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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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Stalker X Stalker, Part 10

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo

Marinette’s collection of vigilantes in her house was still growing, somehow. You’d think it would stop with just the ones that consistently lived in Gotham, but no.

Nightwing started dropping by whenever he was in town to try and teach her escrima. She wasn’t good with them because she wasn’t used to fighting people up close, but she didn’t really think that that was the reason why they were doing it.

Still, it was fun…

(Except for that one time they’d been heading back to her house and she dropped her phone down the drain and had to beg the rat-person -- she was pretty sure Nightwing had called them Ratcatcher? -- for help. It was very traumatizing. He’d given her a new phone but she was never going to recover emotionally from that day.)

And then, a few days before Thanksgiving, Flamebird had made an appearance.

The reason why was less fun, though.

She’d opened her blinds and stared at him for a few moments. He was leaning against her fire escape, hand pressed to his stomach.

“Hey, Robin, does Flamebird usually do the Napoleon pose?”

“The…? Oh, no, he does not.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I thought so.” She swung her window open. “Hi. Nice to meet you. What happened?”

“Got stabbed.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Okay, yeah, obviously, want to elaborate?”

“Got stabbed in the stomach,” he said, after a second’s thought.

So, no, then. She shrugged to herself and let him come inside.

“Right, Robin, go get the medkit out from under my sink,” she said, pulling a hairband from her wrist and tying her hair back.

Flamebird frowned. “Can’t you just undo everything with your magic?”

“Not magic,” supplied Tikki, popping her head out of Marinette’s pocket.

“FUCK,” yelped Flamebird.

Damian made the quiet clicking sound he made whenever he was about to say something rude but Marinette cut him off with a glare and pointed him towards the bathroom. Damian grumbled a little under his breath but obeyed for fear of being thrown out.

She turned back to Flamebird. “Also, that’s not how my ‘magic’ works. If I’m not involved in a fight…” She made a ‘poof’ motion with her hands. “No miracle cure.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Man, if I’d known that I would’ve just dealt with this myself.”

“Well, it is too late for that,” said Damian, who had come back out with a medkit. “Now, sit down, we will tend to your wound.”

And they did.

(Or, rather, Marinette did. It didn’t matter if she knew, logically, that he already knew how wounds looked and how to treat them, she just didn’t feel comfortable making him help. She sent him off to play with the cat and worked on dressing it. She’d made a mistake here by doing the normal routine while stitching someone up: asking about things they liked to distract them. He said he was an ‘avid reader’, she’d laughed and said that she probably wouldn’t know any of the books he mentioned because she hardly ever read in English, and now she was apparently in a book club. That was on her, she supposed, but it was still a little irritating.)

And that was all the vigilantes. They all came over from time to time. Sometimes they’d see each other and give each other awkward smiles or actively ignore each other, but it became a constant part of her life.

But it all came to a head one seemingly regular day.

She had been walking up the stairs to her apartment with Tim, ten bags of groceries loaded onto her arms and five on his (he was to open the door), and had nearly bumped into him when he stopped suddenly.

“Cass?” He asked, confused.

She raised her eyebrows just slightly. She’d thought everyone knew about each other but, now that she thought about it, because of the scheduling Tim wouldn’t really be around when everyone else came by.

He took Cass’s arrival in stride, though, fishing his key out of his pocket and pushing the door open.

He did not take in stride the fact that Duke, Damian, and Nightwing were all inside her house already. Duke was sitting on her counter, wrapped in a blanket as he scrolled through his phone. Damian was playing with Vanelope. Nightwing was doing stretches on her floor.

“Hey, look, more people that don’t live here,” Marinette said with only a hint of bitterness.

Nightwing glanced up. “You’re out of chips.”

“Already --?!” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Fine. Fine. I got more, anyways.”

Tim snapped out of it. He closed and locked the door quickly before sending Marinette a pout. “Alright, I can get you cheating on me with Cass, but come on,” he half joked.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “If one of the people I’m apparently cheating with is a five-year-old --.”

“TWELVE.”

“-- then I think you have more things to worry about than my serial adultery, darling.”

“... guess that’s true.”

“Also, I only buy groceries with you, so you’re clearly my favorite concubine.”

Duke grinned. “Actually --.”

“Except for that one time I asked Signal to go find ricotta because I’d forgotten it,” she conceded. “I guess he's my second favorite.”

Cass pouted and raised her hand.

“She makes a good case for herself. You’ve both been demoted,” she joked.

Tim was still pouting. Probably has something to do with going from favorite to second favorite. Who knows.

She rolled her eyes. She had bigger problems. Like her food. There were frozens and she was not going to lose her food to something as stupid and useless as the air. She waved him along as much as she could with the bags digging into her arms and started putting things away.

She tipped her head back after a second to squint at everyone. They were awkwardly staring at each other, for some reason… oh, right, they technically didn’t know each other.

“Uh, introductions, I guess. Signal, Robin, and Nightwing, meet my friends. Tim, Cass, meet my annoyances.”

Tim perked up a little at being called a friend rather than an annoyance. Problem solved. Kind of.

He set down his bags and leaned close to her ear. “So, they don’t know you know?”

“Duke does,” she mumbled back. “I’m not going to tell them about it, though, I want to see how long it takes them to notice.”

He snickered. “I can get behind that.”

“Good. You didn’t have a choice in the matter,” she joked, leaning forward to press a kiss to his nose.

She could hear Cass groan a little at the obvious affection and both Duke and Damian cringed. She fought the urge to laugh. It was just a little kiss on the nose, they didn’t have to act like it was scandalous or gross.

But, apparently, it was gross enough for Damian to grab her arm to try and pull her attention away from Tim (and physically pull her away from him, she noted, as she was forced to take a half-step back from him).

“Did you get more of my gummy bears?”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you ask for them? Did you tell me you were out?”

He looked a little put out and she felt bad enough to give up the act quickly:

“Yes, kid, I got you your weird vegan gummy bears.”

He beamed and started sifting through her bags.

She smiled fondly and ruffled his hair, ignoring the knife that was sent her way for the action with practiced ease, then started putting things away.

Everyone except Damian made their way over to help. There were no ulterior motives, they insisted, even as she watched Nightwing slip a bag of chips into Damian’s hoodie for safekeeping and Duke pocket an apple.

At least Cass and Tim were reasonably well-behaved, she thought right before she watched him split an orange with her.

Tim squinted at the three people below him.

Jon had come to visit because a) the no metas in Gotham rule had more or less stopped being enforced due to constant complaints from the Justice League, b) Damian needed friends his age, and c) it was Christmas and Jon was so sure that this year was going to be the year that Damian finally understood the holiday.

And, because Jon had come to visit, so had Conner. The worst part of being an older brother that Tim understood all too well.

But, now, he looked down at the three people gathered at the bottom of the stairs.

They were apparently competing to see who could be the stupidest. Steph was standing on a banister, Marinette was trying to sit on a vertical bo staff, and Conner was doing a handstand on both of their heads. It was a little shaky, what with Steph’s barely restrained laughter and the fact that bos are not meant to be balanced on and Conner trying to do tricks, but they were clearly having fun.

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the entrance to the cave. Did he have a type?

Their comms crackled to life and all three went stock-still, grins wiped from their faces briefly as they listened to see what had happened.

“I am requesting the night off to have an outing with Superboy.”

Bruce gave the grunt that meant ‘fine’.

The three relaxed now that they knew that everything was okay, quickly going back to their game. Marinette had added a surfboard. Steph was struggling with an exercise ball. Conner was slowly taking off fingers.

Tim sighed to himself. Yep. Dumbasses who can only be serious for truly important things -- and, even then, only for a few seconds at a time. That was his type. Someone, please, save him.

It had been a while since Marinette had gone out on her own (with the intention of staying alone, leaving for patrols didn’t count). Really, she normally wouldn’t, but she needed to pick up a piece of fabric she’d forgotten to get the day before and it wasn’t even a meter’s worth. She didn’t need help for that.

Besides, going by herself was much quicker. She was able to go by rooftop as Ladybug.

Of course, going as Ladybug had a risk to it that she didn’t realize until it was too late: responsibilities.

She groaned to herself as she made to jump to the next roof and her eyes landed on a person getting mugged in the alleyway below her.

She looked down at the bag with her fabric inside it and wondered if it was even worth leaving it there while she got rid of the attacker. Most of the time the people mugging people in Gotham were using fake guns. Even if they weren’t, muggings were common enough that most people had little on them and were only slightly annoyed when people tried to rob them. The person below was no exception, it seemed. They scoffed when the gunman poked their back.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” they said irritably.

Wait, shit, she knew that voice.

She squinted down into the darkness and, yep, she would recognize that almost unhealthily pale skin anywhere.

She dropped down into the alley between them and, to her slight surprise, it turned out the gun actually did have bullets in it. A shot rang out. She fell back a step, cradling her shoulder.

The gunman’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to shoot her. It had probably just been a split second reaction.

Unfortunately for him, getting shot really fucking hurts and she was going to take it out on him. Especially since he’d been trying to mug one of her friends. She glanced back at Tim, who was shaking and a little pale, and grit her teeth. Yeah, this guy was fucked.

Eventually, though, the pain in her shoulder, worsened by all the movement, got too unbearable and she rolled off of the mugger. She tied the man’s hands and feet behind his back with her yoyo and, after calling Miraculous Ladybug, called it a day. She’d get her yoyo back later.

For now, she pressed a hand to her ear. “Hey, Signal, I’ve got one for you.”

“You’re joining me for daytime patrols now?” He asked, his voice somehow brighter than the powers he had.

“Nah, just happened to come across…” She considered embarrassing Tim but decided against it when she saw her friend’s face. “... someone getting mugged while out today.”

He huffed a little but she ignored it in favor of relaying the address.

The perpetrator to be taken care of, she turned to the victim. She didn’t know whether the rules applied to people you knew, but she figured she might as well go through with the normal procedure. Tim liked procedure, it might help him.

So, step one: connect with the victim. She unzipped her hoodie and smiled brightly, making sure her eyes crinkled behind her mask.

Step two: check to make sure they aren’t going into shock.

Normally, she was able to skip this step. The miracle cure got rid of it if they had gone into it before the attack… but his eyes were somehow both fixed intensely on her like he was scared she’d disappear if he chanced a look away and extremely vacant.

She took slow, careful steps towards him, hand out to check his pulse.

Once she was close enough, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug. Marinette didn’t quite know what to do. The part of her brain still doing the normal procedure told her to hug back because this was a scared victim that wanted comfort, but the other part was tempted to push him off to check for a concussion… even though, logically, he shouldn’t have one because she had cast Miraculous Ladybug so her arm wouldn’t have a bullet in it anymore --.

Oh. She was stupid.

He’d watched his friend get shot and now he was freaking out. Like people are supposed to do.

She hugged him back, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

“Would you like me to take you home?” She asked.

“My… my friend lives near here,” said Tim quietly, mindful of the fact that the mugger was still within earshot.

She nodded. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

He bit his lip so hard that she worried he’d break the skin and nodded.

She took him home and, with only a brief stop to keep Vanelope from escaping, set him down on the couch. She kept a hand touching him at all times as she gathered the blankets and pillows strewn about by all the visits the bats made. For once, she was glad she never really had time to clean, she didn’t want to let go of him when he was clearly so concerned about her.

Less than five minutes later she’d wrapped them both up as tightly as she could with as many blankets as she could reach. He rested his head against her shoulder, arms loosely draped around her under the blankets. Vanelope settled on their laps and started to purr; she made a mental note to give her a bunch of treats later.

But, for now…

She cupped his cheeks in her hands and waited patiently as he struggled to pull himself together enough to actually be present.

“Darling, I said I wouldn’t go anywhere. I’m not breaking that promise. Okay?”

He nodded slightly, finally releasing his lip to speak: “Okay.”

She pressed a kiss to his nose. A half smile made its way across his face.

“Now, how do you feel about Big Fish?”

He squeezed her a little tighter. “The circus scene is cute.”

She nodded her agreement. “I like the daffodil scene better, personally, but it is pretty cute.”

She turned the movie on.

Tim was sure he was overreacting. Of course he was. She hadn’t died, she wasn’t even hurt any more. It clearly didn’t bother her, he had ‘accidentally’ chosen that shoulder to rest his head on and she hadn’t so much as winced when he had. No, the only worry she had was about him.

So, he should be fine.

But he wasn’t.

She’d been shot and, for a second, he’d feared it would be another Darla situation. And he couldn’t deal with another Darla situation. He couldn’t. He had to believe that he was better than that high school Tim that had let all his friends die. Because if he wasn’t better than that meant he couldn’t have friends and he couldn’t deal with that either.

He didn’t want to be alone again.

No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He could think of a plan, surely. He was a planner, he found problems and he dealt with them. That had been his coping mechanism pretty much since birth and (if you ignore all the workaholic tendencies, independence issues, and General Trauma) it was working out pretty well for him. Can’t be sad if there’s work to do, after all.

Yeah. Work. He was good at work.

He bit his lip.

Alright, so the problem stemmed from his fear of being alone… which wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon. Good coping mechanisms? In this family? Please. Next.

Alright, so the problem stemmed from his fear of her getting hurt.

Simple solution! Don’t let her get hurt!

… not as simple a solution as it sounded on paper.

She wasn’t going to stop vigilantism anytime soon. He wouldn’t make her, and she wasn’t going to do it on her own accord. Even if she decided to at some point Tim didn’t have much hope for it. Every person in the family had tried that already, it never worked. They’d say that it would be fine, that they were going to stop for their mental health or even just permanently end it… but family was family and how could someone sit back and watch family get hurt when they could do something about it?

So, that wasn’t going to happen. What other answers were there?

Well, he supposed that she had left on her own and that was the main problem. If she hadn’t left on her own then he wouldn’t have followed after her in secret and he wouldn’t have gotten attacked in the first place.

But he couldn’t be around much more without it being weird unless he…

He couldn’t…

Could he?

He figured it was worth a shot. And he should ask now. If she said no he wouldn’t have to worry about her thinking him weird, she’d just assume it was a request made while in the middle of shock and forget about it.

He hesitantly let go of his lip.

“Hey, Bean?”

She stopped pretending to watch Big Fish for the sake of giving him privacy. “Yeah?”

“Remember when… I…” He bit his lip, trying to think of a better way to phrase it, but he couldn’t. There really was no casual way to ask. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Can I, maybe, move in with you?”

She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, before quickly shaking her head.

He must have looked pretty put out, because she rushed to explain herself:

"You’re under emotional duress, darling, it wouldn’t be right to say yes.”

He nodded his understanding and it was silent for a bit before he eventually said: “But, if I asked tomorrow… would you say yes?”

She looked at him for a while, her face unreadable, before she gave him a hesitant smile.

“Well, I already said that you basically lived here. I suppose there wouldn’t be anything wrong with making it official.”

#stalker x stalker #timari #timmari #maribat #timinette #shutterbug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake

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squiddybeifong · 3 years

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Can I ask for the batsiblings reaction to Damian pacing so much he wore a hole in the floor? Doesn't have to be a fics, maybe headcanons?

Sorry for the rather long wait. Kinda wanted to make this a fic

Here's the floor pacing fic

On Ao3 here

Alfred hadn’t outwardly reacted to Damian’s obvious lie as to why he had paced the floorboards uneven, but the butler absolutely took action for amending the tripping hazard in the boy’s room. With the floor repairman on the line and a measuring tape in hand nothing was amiss, of course.

Dick had already kept him up-to-date with the gossip about the two Titan birds, so Alfred hadn’t been surprised whatsoever. His position in the family meant that he’d watched the awkward budding romances of most everyone who’d called the Manor home. Damian being frustrated at his feelings for a teammate was nothing compared to a (very grown) Bruce being moody after Selina rebuffed his kiss while ‘on the clock’ or Dick’s increasingly creative attempts at sneaking around with Kori before the ‘no dating metahumans or aliens’ rule had been lifted. Honestly, watching the pun-laden flirting that Steph ladled out to both Tim and Cass on a near daily basis was more awkward than his youngest ward taking his repressed emotions out on the floors.

Unfortunately for Damian, the butler arranged for the floor repairman to show up during the day. Most notably, the repairman arrived at exactly the specified 1:35 p.m., not wanting to be late when called upon to fix anything belonging to Bruce Wayne.

Why Robin had believed that (like everyone else in Gotham) this worker would be fashionably late, he didn’t know. What Damian did know was that he hadn’t heard Grayson open the door. Nor had he heard his brother head up with Alfred and the repairman into his room. And he especially didn’t hear as Alfred slyly mentioned that he believed Dick’s gossip was coming to a head, if the worn path in the floor meant anything.

No, Damian heard none of it. Not when he was busy brushing BatCow and making sure that every square inch of the barn was properly ventilated so she couldn’t possibly overheat in the approaching summer weather. So when the youngest Bat stalked into the Manor, he’d been all but ambushed.

It didn’t take a detective to realize why he’d been pacing so much. Even without Alfred’s confirmation, it was unlike Damian to avoid going back to the Titans early if he could help it. Batman hadn’t looked up when Robin had elected to stay another week when they were in the BatCave, but his siblings sure had. And while Bruce didn’t outwardly ponder about how intense things had to be for Damian to go out of his way to avoid a certain someone, this new information had Dick positively enchanted at the prospect of his baby brother being in love.

“I’m not in love with Raven,” Damian hissed out.

Jason snickered as he reclined in his seat, his face full of mirth at the flustered crack in Damian’s voice. Cass was sitting upside down with her legs resting on the couch’s back, her smile wide as she took in her youngest brother’s irritated, embarrassed body language (nevermind the barest hint of an actual blush on his face when vehemently denying any feelings he had towards his fellow Titan).

Babs’ smile was wide and cheerful as she pointed out, “Who said anything about Raven?” Duke perked up from his spot next to Cass, immediately adding on, “Yeah, Dami. We thought you were just falling for her?”

Steph snorted, “Falling over those footprints in the floor, more like it.”

Tim laughed behind his gulp of his coffee, sleepily (and loudly) drawling out to the blonde, “A Robin and his Raven. Guess you can say they’re a real pair of lovebirds, huh?”

Damian glared at them all, fighting the urge to pinch between his eyes. Why were all the Bats at the Manor? Shouldn’t they be on patrol instead of bothering him?

Jason clicked his tongue and rested his arms on the table. He met Dick’s gaze, saw the way his older brother’s eyes brightened up with mischief and scratched at the streak of white in his hair. Deciding that messing with Damian was by far the most fun he’d have in the Manor that morning, Jason asked, “So, Lil’ D… What’re you gonna get your girlfriend? Can’t come back empty handed.”

“She’s not my--”

Babs interrupted him, nudging Tim with her elbow, “Do not tell me he wasn’t planning on getting her anything.”

Steph lazily rested on the chair’s edge. The blonde leaned over to rest against Jason’s shoulder, her fist pressed to her face. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek; it wasn’t likely she’d be much use for knowing how Raven would want to be wooed. She had heard of her but she had yet to actually meet Damian’s mystery crush, after all. She let out a hum, “What does Raven like? It’s gotta be something personal!”

Damian clicked his tongue as his siblings were suddenly oh so chatty at Spoiler’s suggestion, their unwanted ideas filling the room.

“What if he paints her something?”

“Doesn’t she like old books? Maybe one of those first editions that Alfred was thinking about donating last year?”

“Wait a sec-- Dick, isn’t she goth? B did get that set of obsidian jewelry at the last gala.”

“Hell, if we’re going that route I’m sure Selina has some nice rings somewhere--”

“Maybe something that isn’t stolen, Tim.”

“Just be honest with her.”

The room went quiet at Cass’ simple instruction. Still in her Orphan suit from her early morning patrols and reclining in her inverted spot on the couch, the brunette somehow kept a serious face as she stared at Damian upside down.

Seeing that no one was going to add-on to her suggestion, Cass blew some of her bangs out of her face and shrugged, “You like her for a reason.”

Brown eyes slyly glanced around the room, gratefully falling on Babs as she piped up, “Cass is right. I really don’t think Damian of all people would fall for someone who’s all about dating mind-games.”

Ignoring Damian’s exasperated lie of “I haven’t fallen for her!” in the background, Steph slumped down on the couch next to Duke. Her face was contemplative, “Then maybe we should invite her here?”

Dick let out an excited laugh the same time Tim clapped his hands and grinned at their resident computer whiz, “Babs could absolutely get her up to speed on patrolling Gotham for a bit, right?”

The redhead looked excited at the idea. Pushing her glasses further up her nose before they fell, Babs teasingly asked, “What is it about Gotham and bird-based superheroes?”

Duke shrugged, a hand cradling his chin in thought. “Not sure, but Dami obviously won’t confess if we’re not around to kick him into doing it.”

Jason clicked his tongue at the possibility of the youngest Bat listening to them and raised a brow Dick’s way, “Any chance at all that she’ll make the first move?”

Irritated at the topic, Damian turned on his heel and retreated to the kitchen. Ignoring the chorus of “C’mon, Dami” behind him (and planning on fighting Todd later for the childish boos that the antihero was aiming at his back), Robin set about grabbing some snacks for his pets when he heard two sets of footsteps approach.

He bit back a groan as Dick practically skipped into the room, Cass on his heels. “What now?”

Nightwing let out a laugh at his brother’s sneer, “You do know that we’re only trying to help, right?” He took a few pears from the fridge and handed them to Damian, knowing that they were BatCow’s favorite. Hearing as Cass opened the cabinet doors to find where the rawhide bones and cat treats were stored, Dick pressed on, “I know she already knows me but it might be easier introducing everyone as a segue into talking to her about other things…”

Cass let out a quiet snort at his suggestion. She shook her head and offered a better idea, “Alfred first.”

Dick tilted his head, nodding in agreement a moment later. He ignored the violent way Damian was cutting up the pears and said, “That’ll probably be for the best. Living with the Titans is one thing; we gotta ease her into our particular brand of madness.”

Tossing aside the stems and peeled off stickers, Damian sulked, “None of this is necessary.”

Cass hid her smile with her hand. Dick hummed out, “You don’t want your girlfriend to meet your family?”

“She won’t be my--” Damian couldn’t say the potential title just yet. He clicked his tongue, “Just because you all think I have feelings for her doesn’t mean she’ll reciprocate.”

The older two visibly paused at his words.

Her head tilting in concern, brown eyes studied Robin for a moment. Damian glared at Cass but she ignored him. Dick leaned against the wall, the worried furrow in his brow betraying his nonchalant stance. He spoke out the obvious, “Do you really think she’s not interested?”

“She thinks I’ve been avoiding her--”

Cass shrugged, “You have.”

Damian continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “--so I doubt any feelings she may have towards me are positive right now.”

Dick let out a hum, “You didn’t answer the question.”

Ophan’s suit somehow didn’t shine in the kitchen’s fluorescent light as she crossed her arms, “Yes or no?”

Damian bit the inside of his cheek. It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment as he thought over all the moments he and Raven had shared, the comfortable quiet pauses between crimefighting, training, and avoiding their teammates’ noise. She never seemed to dislike his company, but she was stoic enough that he could never tell if her heart leaped into her throat whenever she noticed that they were alone.

He suppressed a jump as Cass entered his personal space.

Olive eyes were reluctant as she poked his cheek. “You’re not stupid,” She figured it was progress when he didn’t try to swat her hand away, but she couldn’t keep the beam off her face at the boy’s blush. A hint of smugness crept into her voice, “So she is?”

“I don’t know.”

Cass looked to the Manor’s main entrance, knowing that in half a week’s time the entire structure would be full of lights, flowers and who knew what else B’s planners would bring. A spring gala with flowers and enough hidden corners for a pair to get lost in the crowd.

In other terms: the perfect setting for a first date.

She met Dick’s gaze and grinned at the knowing look on his face. His hair nearly fell out of its bun as he let out a whoop, wrapping an arm around Damian. Thoughts of finding Raven a gala-ready dress (and maybe a matching suit) in mind, Dick couldn’t keep the excitement out of his movements.

Ignoring the aggravated yet cautiously hopeful way Damian shrugged off his brother’s arm, Cass clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Only one way to find out.”

#damirae #damian wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfam #my writing #asked and answered #mistkissedmoon #g o d it's been a While hasn't it? but I really hope u like it!!!#but yeah. batfam is gonna batfam if dami's got a crush. a whole lotta teasing at his expense *but* they are gonna try to help #but its bc they loooooooooooove him. he's the baby bat ofc they gotta get cheesy with it #I was thinking of headcanons but this gives me an excuse to write a first date/gala shenanigans so #I figured why not? I've been slacking in producing ridiculous damirae fluff

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alecmagnuslwb · 3 years

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Right In Front of Him - @doubleredweek Day 3

Read on AO3

Roy Harper came back wrong or at least that’s what everyone says.

He died bloody and violent and just shy of being an adult at the hands of a monster that wasn’t even his problem to begin with. Wrong place, wrong time. That’s what they called it. The young son of a billionaire killed by Gotham’s most notorious monster in the hopes of a payout or just for fun. Speedy and Green Arrow were never mentioned, Star City had replacements in the form of Oliver’s other son and daughter in no time to keep their father and the memory of their dead brother safe.

Jason never even got the chance to meet his big brother’s best friend and by the time Oliver Queen had slipped past Batman’s prudish defenses and no one kills in my city rules and avenged his son Jason had already picked up his mother’s bad habit.

Robin couldn’t be a drug addict, Bruce made that abundantly clear. And while Oliver Queen happily sat in prison doing the only thing he could to avenge the son he never expected, but loved all the same, Jason’s father labeled his son a problem.

Oliver got five years, the one and only time Jason can remember hearing about a rich guy using his money to get a lesser sentence being reasonable and justified. He thinks the jury probably wasn’t feeling too bad for the dead psychopath who had been terrorizing their city for decades either.

And then the son he avenged came back, but he came back angry. He’d been angry and vengeful and grateful and a million conflicting feelings that made the once shining bright example of the sidekick into a rogue, an outlaw.

The entire Arrow family still wanted him back anyways, no matter how wrong everyone said he came back, no matter how many lives his bow started taking. He kept his distance though, the rage of the Lazarus pit he’d been thrown in under control but still boiling under his skin.

And then for some inexplicable reason he picked up Jason. Grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him from a prison in the middle of nowhere that he’d quite literally joked and drank his way into and certain death because Dick tentatively reached out and asked him to.

Why Dick didn’t just do it himself Jason could care less.

Roy helped him get clean, helped him get back into the work of being a hero or well as close to one as he could get with a new identity and new suit and didn’t even bat an eye at some of Jason’s poorer choices.

Hell he hadn’t even mentioned when Jason started a brief affair with their teammate, who also happened to be his brother’s former fiancée.

Jason’s never said it out loud, but the broken angry sidekick that everyone wants to take ten steps back from is Jason’s saving grace. His best friend, the closest thing to home he’s had since Bruce sent him packing, quite possibly the love of his life.

And Roy doesn’t have a single clue.

He just loads his arrows and doesn’t know it drives Jason crazy when he slips past him a steadying hand on his lower back. He doesn’t know that Jason twistedly savors when Roy’s hurt and needs to be patched up just so he can get a little closer to his skin. He doesn’t know how much it makes Jason’s unlovable heart clench knowing that he’s the first and only person Roy has let get close since he came back from the dead. He doesn’t see it and Jason resigns himself to what they have, forcing himself to be content with what they are so he can keep him close.

“You should pick up this time,” Jason says frankly tired of watching Roy pace back and forth across their shared loft in nothing but a pair of low hanging sweatpants. He cares too, but he also really needs Roy to take a call in the other room and put on a shirt while he’s there.

“I don’t know if I can,” Roy says finally stopping his pacing. He pulls out a chair at the small rickety kitchen table where Jason is trying to figure out how exactly they’re going to pay rent this month flipping it backwards and sitting in it his arms resting on the back. He tosses his phone on the table the weekly missed collect call shining brightly on the screen.

“Why not?” Jason says looking up from his budgeting that’s giving him a headache. If Roy would just let them tap into the fund that Oliver has set up for him for things other than technical gear he wouldn’t be doing this. But that’s a conversation for another time, right now it’s the phone call conversation that needs to be had. As long as his good behavior continues Oliver only has a year left on his sentence and Jason knows he’ll call every single one of those fifty-two weeks if Roy continues to not pick up.

“He’s in there because of me,” Roy says running a frustrated hand through the floppy red hair on the top of his head scratching a little harder than necessary at the shaved down sides. “No matter what he says he has to blame me for some of that.”

“Roy,” Jason says reaching out and grabbing his hand that’s scratching far too hard and resting it on the table. “Oliver Queen has never been quiet or subtle about his opinions, if he in any way blamed you he would have said it by now.”

Roy sighs looking down at where their hands are still touching. Jason swallows hard once pulling his hand back quickly.

“He doesn’t regret what he did, you coming back didn’t change that at all,” Jason continues on trailing his fingers along the little marks along his inner elbow a nervous habit he’s never quite been able to shake. “A monster who killed you, who would have killed hundreds more if he’d been allowed to live is gone because he had to do something for you. Because he wanted to do something for you, you coming back was just the icing on the revenge cake for him.”

Roy sighs rubbing at his forehead like a headache is coming on. “How can you be sure about that?”

“Because I may have been three sheets to the wind the whole time the trial was going on, but I still saw the news. I saw his face in that courtroom and I know what someone with no regrets look like,” Jason says. He scratches at his elbow one last time before reaching out to place a hand on Roy’s wrist reassuringly. Roy’s not big on touch these days, like coming back made him sensitive to everything, but that rule doesn’t seem to apply when it comes to them much anymore.

“Plus, he calls every single week, and every time Dinah goes up to visit him he asks about you which results in her calling every other week too,” Jason adds on.

“If it was Bruce would you pick up?” Roy counters.

“Fuck no,” Jason says without missing a beat. “It’s a completely different situation and you know it, but nice try with the deflecting.”

Oliver is painfully sincere in a way Bruce could never be. The bridges were burned between he and Jason long ago, a call wouldn’t be anywhere near what Jason would need to think of him as his father again. Oliver and Roy’s bridge however is perfectly intact just a little neglected and in need of some care. It’s just waiting for Roy to walk across it again and whether Roy admits it or not he’s ready.

He doesn’t have the wake up screaming nightmares as much anymore, he hasn’t killed a criminal in months and the rage in him still boils, but only when it’s justified.

Roy chuckles with one of those tilted little half smiles of his. “Caught me,” he says just as the phone rings the familiar number popping up like clockwork. He takes a deep breath and slips his wrist out from under Jason’s fingers before he picks up his phone.

On the other side of the phone Jason hears the tinny robotic voice asking if he’s willing to accept a collect call from Blackgate Penitentiary and for the first time in nearly two years of calls, he says yes giving Jason a small nervous smile as he walks into the other room.

Roy’s not gone as long as he’d thought he’d be, he guesses that even with all the good behavior and the perks of being rich in prison Oliver still only gets so long on a phone call. Jason’s making dinner when Roy rolls out of his room, a shirt blissfully covering up his tattooed and scarred chest now.

“If Ollie is bulking up the way he claims he is in prison he’s gonna be able to kick Bruce’s ass when he gets out,” Roy says walking into the kitchen leaning back against the counter a reasonable distance from the open flame Jason is working over, but still a little closer than needed. Jason’s not complaining about the choice.

Jason chuckles as he stirs the contents of the pan in front of him.

“So it went well I guess?” he says turning down the flame so he can focus his attention on Roy.

Roy rubs at the light stubble on his jaw tracing along the scar that moves from the bottom of his ear to the corner of his lips, one of the many unhealed remnants of the day he died.

“Weirdly well, I mean there’s a lot still, but it was a good start. Thank you,” Roy says reaching out a hand and dragging his fingertips lightly down Jason’s arm a barely there breath of a touch, it’s unexpectedly intimate.

Jason just shrugs ignoring the tingling feeling of Roy’s fingertips against his bare arm. “I basically just told you to suck it up, it’s no big deal,” he says shaking off any gratitude.

“Not just for pushing me today, I just mean for a lot of stuff,” Roy says with a shrug not quite meeting Jason’s eye. He may not be biologically related to Oliver but that sincerity when he truly means something is a tone they share. It’s rare when Roy lets it out, harder for him to let slip through than it is for his father, but it’s there and Jason is grateful every single time.

“It’s nothing,” he says with a smile. “If the messed-up sidekicks don’t stick together I mean who will.”

Roy laughs at that and steps a little closer. Closer than he’s probably ever been before. Neither of them speaks or moves for a moment and for the first time since Roy pulled him out of that makeshift prison he can’t read what’s going on in Roy’s unearthly green eyes. He remembers Dick saying Roy had been hard to read without words even before he came back, how whatever was going on in his head always seemed out of reach, how he was an open book but only when he wanted to be. Jason has prided himself in being able to pick up on everything in every moment up until now.

And then Roy’s expression shifts like he’s made up his mind about something and before Jason can ask what it is Roy’s hands are on his neck and his lips are connecting with Jason’s. Jason responds immediately his hands flailing a little uselessly before they settle at Roy’s waist. The kiss doesn’t last long barely a few beats, but it’s everything Jason has been yearning for. It’s better than any fix he’s ever gotten.

“Sorry, I’ve wanted to do that for so long and I probably should have given you a warning or something,” Roy says when he pulls back trying to put much more distance between them than Jason wants.

“No,” he reassures quickly pulling Roy back in with his hold on his waist. “No, it’s okay. It’s more than okay.”

“Yeah?” Roy asks, quietly vulnerable in the small space between them.

“Yeah,” Jason says smiling. Roy nods and leans back in kissing Jason slow and softer than he ever thought the big bad Arsenal would kiss.

And it’s in that moment that Jason realizes maybe Roy does have a clue.

#my fic #jayroy #jayroyweek2021 #jason todd #roy harper #writersmonth2021

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duketectivecomics · 4 years

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You might've answered this already and I just didn't find it, but one thing that always perplexed me about Duke was how old he was in comparison to the other Batkids. It's obvious he's younger than Dick and Babs, and I pretty sure he's younger than Jason and Cass, and older than Damian, but I cannot tell if he's meant to be Tim and Steph's ages, younger, or older. Could you help me?

You’re all kinds of good here, anon!!! I answered a similar ask abt the Order of Adoption but didn’t dive into specific ages on that post BECAUSE well they didn’t ask lmaooo but ALSO:

Comic ages are very fluid usually! While Years™️ might pass in the canon proper, or while time seems to slow to a crawl, having a character’s age outright stated is something that occurs very rarely for most characters, if at all!

Because it’s always much easier to have a floating age range to work and play around in! It’s easier to keep a character Perpetually 12 or 16 or 25 or mid-40s or- you get the idea. SO, with that in mind. Let’s do our Best to Break Down What Age Duke Might Be Currently A N D how it might interact with the Other Batkids!

(Warning for a Very Long Post, lots of issue citations, and a LOT of comics terminology regarding specific runs/events/continunity. I’m gonna try to keep it as clear/concise as possible ofc but plz keep these things in mind! If you’re not at least marginally familiar with Bat-Comics, you might find yourself feeling a little lost here!)

So from the Zero Year arc we see a common Trend that plays out pretty consistently with Batfam comics: a Life-Changing Event Occuring while the protag is Young™️.

(Batman (2011) #30)

With how Duke is drawn in these particular issues, and given the trends of the past, I’d place him in the 8-12 range. The historic precedent being ofc that that is the same range that canon usually places both Bruce and Dick at for their Tragedies™; the more benign reason being that he... just very much Looks to be drawn in that Range. He’s very clearly an Older/Prepubescent child here.

Fast Forward to his Next Appearance in the Endgame arc and-

(Batman (2011) #37)

He’s definitely older! He’s wiser! And he’s giving Batman a fistbump lmao. Again, no strict age given here BUT, since they condensed each Robin to a Year or Two tops with Bruce (its n52 and its fucked up is what it is), we can assume it’s been at least 4-5 since Zero Year (which would mean if we go off the age range I proposed for that year, then theoretically he could be anywhere from 12-16 here, and I think that tracks pretty well. Not Perfectly and Certainly Not so well with Pre52 continuity ofc, but I’ll talk about that later!)

In We Are Robin, while its not stated Directly In The Text, it IS given as an Informational Tidbit that Duke is 16 (specifically this can be found at the end of issue #4)! (Sweet sweet canon confirmation FINALLY)

We know that WAR takes place Fairly Soon after Endgame (almost immediately, give or take a month or two given that Duke’s been placed in a few foster homes at this point and has racked up Quite A File) now, again id like to remind y’all that while this is a NICE starting point to have, keep in mind that comics are fluid and this may be retconned slightly/ignored in later stories bc Keeping Duke 16-ish is in DC’s Best Interest at the moment. (Having Relatable Teen Characters afterall is a Good Marketing strategy™️. And the longer they can Keep them Young, the Better)

With that in mind let’s take a moment to Highlight the fact that Duke and Damian have crossed paths at this point AND the storylines that have occurred during this year that were meant to be in conjunction with one another!

Because Prior to Endgame, Damian had Died! And just a year (in real, meat-space time) before We Are Robin, he was resurrected and had begun his “Year of Atonement” in the Robin: Son of Batman maxiseries. Midway through both this series and WAR (and, we can assume, midway thru this “Year” for Damian) the Robin War begins/ends and we see at least one major Moment between these two boys who will soon call one another brothers:

(Robin War #2)

Given that R:SoB is followed up VERY quickly by Teen Titans Rebirth (in which Damian celebrates his 13th birthday), we can conclude that Damian would be 12 during this time (well, 12 and 1/2 to play it safe lmao). That being said, this Confirms about a 4yr gap between Duke and Damian! (One Batkid down at least! but he’s the key to the others so put a pin in him!)

As We Are Robin draws to its conclusion, DC was releasing another arc that would eventually flow into the Rebirth Era, by the end of which, Bruce would approach Duke with an Idea (which involves Bruce becoming Dukes temporary guardian & as he states Many Times “Trying Something New” with Duke).

And thus the Rebirth Era begins, and Duke began his Year of training (most directly encapsulated by the Cursed Wheel arc in the All-Star Batman run:

(All-Star Batman #1 (back-up story))

Bruce introduces Duke to a training regimen that Alfred has named “the Cursed Wheel”. It encompasses all the training Bruce and the other bats have undergone and condenses it down into color-coordinated segments that will take Duke a Year to Complete.

It can be assumed that by the End of this Year Duke will somehow miraculously still be 16, despite, again, an entire ass year passing.

There’s one story that takes place mid-year in All-Star Batman, and the Cursed Wheel is meant to be capped off by Duke’s first Official Day as the Signal (in the titular Batman & the Signal ofc) BUT, near as I can tell after this story, Dukes age is not brought up again. So until they DO bring it up either in Batman & the Outsiders or whatever future run Duke becomes involved in, we can assume DC will be working with the idea that he’s meant to be in that 16-18 range from here on out (ie still a minor).

But, dear anon, you might be saying “okay, that’s cool, but how does that relate to my question abt how he falls in with the other Bats?” You’ll have to be a little patient with me here, but I think I may have cracked the code!

Keep in mind I’m gonna be addressing both the Post-Crisis to Flashpoint Continuity (ie mid-80s to 2010 in comics history) and the N52-slash-Rebirth Era (2010-Today). Its generally agreed by fandom and DC alike that these points of rebooting &/or Major Events constitute the era of “Modern” comics, and that everything from the 80s-on might more or less be canon on some level, even if not All of it is.

(Plus, most of fandom usually likes to borrow elements from both eras and much more rarely from stories before it, SO-)

Lets do a quick rundown of how everyone who’s Closer to Duke’s Age, Relates to each other first, age-wise:

Given that Jason was 15 when he died, in A Lonely Place of Dying its established that Bruce had become increasingly reckless since his death, and by the end of the story, Tim has stepped in to fill Robin’s shoes (he states that he’s 13 during this story btw). Pretty soon after, Stephanie Brown is introduced & established to be about a year older than Tim (wish I could pin-point a specific issue BUT, i unfortunately haven’t read any Tim OR Steph-involved comics that predate No Man’s Land... Besides the aforementioned Lonely Place and Young Justice technically, but im working on remedying that soon!)

NOW, during the No Man’s Land event, Cassandra is introduced, and pretty soon into her Batgirl run, its revealed that she’s around the same age as Jason (or at least how old he Would Have Been, had he not died.) Now, given that Jay has an August bday and Cass has a January one, fandom sometimes likes to play around with the idea of one being older than the other (OR even speculating/placing them in an AU as twins/siblings, given that Lady Shiva (Cass’ mom) was a Possible Candidate to be Jason’s biological mother but that’s a Whole Other Thing i wont get into here.)

The point being, Cass, in this era of comics, IS slightly older than Tim and Steph. At Tim’s start as Robin, their ages could either line up like: Tim-13, Steph-14, Cass-15 (being a few months ‘behind’ Jay), then Jason at 15/16 (depending on how soon Tim filled the role after Jay died in April) OR Jason-15/16, Cass-16/17 (in this case she’d be a few months ‘ahead’ now instead)

So brief detour to talk New 52, however! Because Tim, Steph & Cass all got switched around from where DC originally left them prior to the reboot! Now I haven’t read much of them in this era, other than Batman & Robin: Eternal, so my Understanding of their current ages is Spotty at Best. The general consensus seems to be that while before N52, Stephanie had been attending her first year of College (& doing VERY WELL i might add), with the reboot she was set back a few years alongside Tim to a vague Late-Teen state (so 16-18-ish, instead of a Very Clearly Established 18/19). Cass is probably the worst off for this reboot, given that B&R:E basically constitutes her new origin for the new continuity, and does nothing to confirm her age (all I really know is that she’s a Vague Late-Teen too... Probably? Maybe?), given how much they infantilize her, and subsequently how fandom in turn has taken to infantilizing her too, theres a semi-popular fanon that places her Younger that Tim and Steph. And I, for one, propose that we ignore that bc its Weak Sauce my dudes.

Some fans chose to ignore N52 continuity due to this vagueness, and will stick to the ages established before the N52/Rebirth reboots. But its something to keep in mind regardless bc we’re all obviously going to pull from what’s most familiar to us!

But WHERE could we place Duke with regards to them, then? Because them being “Late Teens” is certainly much too vague to work with!

This is Where Damian is the key!

Because Damian is one of those rare exceptions to the Reboot Rule. His story flowed almost seamlessly over from before to after. While he was made a Robin at the age of 10, he continued to grow and learn even after the universe was being rewritten to suit the whims of DC editorial.

If we choose to ignore how everyone else’s ages and origins were swapped around, and stick with the growth that was presented before the reboot, then we can draw some interesting conclusions!

Firstly, though Stephanie also had Died and subsequently Returned, she hadn’t lost much, if any time, from the Ordeal. At the start of her Batgirl run, she is enrolled at a Gotham university and making headway with a more firm foot in the Batfamily (even to the point that she and Damian spend a few issues bonding. At this point in time, Damian is definitely 11, and again, Steph can be assumed to be 18/19 during the course of her run. We’ll assume 18 for clarity’s sake.)

So, then when Damian is 11, now our line up is as Follows:

Dami - 11, Steph - 18, Tim - 17, Cass 19-21 (the range depending again, if you subscribe to Cass being either older/younger than Jason).

WHICH MEANS, If during Robin War Damian is 12 (and a half) THEN We’ve got an age line-up that Potentially looks Like This:

Dami -12(and 1/2), Duke - 16, Tim - 18, Steph - 19, Cass - 20-22 (And Obvsly Jason, Babs & Dick at their varying Older Ages than everyone here)

and im just now realizing i Didnt include Harper in this line-up, but thats bc she’d also throw a big wrench in all this. I’d personally throw her in with being Steph’s age, but I’m pretty sure she was supposed to be either that, or between Steph and Cass (again, since its N52, i believe Cass was/is assumed to be Younger than Steph, but that contradicts the assumed following of pre52 canon that we have for the above line-up, obvsly, and so we ignore that lmao)

All this to say, however, that canon and fandom is what you make of it, and if you want to wiggle these ages around a little, you’re more than allowed! God Knows i usually like to skew the Tim-Steph-Cass age group to be a tad older than this in my own fic writing, and I like to have Duke start as a Robin at 14/15 instead of 16, but that’s just bc I like the dynamic potential it could bring with them being Definitively Older that him, and thus in a more secure place to be Mentoring him right alongside Bruce & the others.

But you might see these age ranges and want to do something Different (say, making Tim, Steph, Cass, & Duke all the Same Age at 17 instead! And that very well tracks with how current comics kinda looks right now!) and you’re absolutely valid to do so! Because again, comic character’s ages are meant to be fluid, not fixed!

And at the end of the day, its all about wanting to see these teen heroes kick serious ass haha

#duke thomas #guest starring:#batfamily #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #randywrites #randys meta #meta #asked and answered #anonymous asks #this was A LOT and i tried to throw some humor where i could #but uhhhh yeah!!! i hope this helps anon!!!#also just realizing its TWO AM WHERE DID THE TIME GO #ah well. Worth It

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years

Text

Hard Lives - Jason Todd x Reader

It was unfair. The whole team seemed to hold a grudge against Jason, for what reason you did not know. He was cocky and arrogant, but he was harmless, to the team at least. He needed more experience, or so Bruce said, but he wasn’t being given it. Dick wanted him and the rest of you teenagers to stay in the Titans base. But it was clear Jason didn’t want to.

You didn’t either, but you were obeying the adults to the best of your ability. If they wanted you to remain put, it was in your best interest to do so.

From the way they treated him he became distant, retreating into his own quarters and limiting his socialisation to talking to Gar.

Jason liked to train. He wanted to be the best Robin he could. You envied his skill, and here you currently were, watching him take out his frustrations in a stick battle with the green haired boy.

Bruce's adoptee appeared to be winning, throwing his stick to the back of Gar's legs so that he fell onto the mat. The vigilante smirked, offering the closest person he had to a friend a hand up.

Gar accepted, shaking it before coming towards the exit, where you were stationed.

"He's not that bad." He told you, suspicious of your hovering.

Perhaps he thought you wrote examining the flaws in Robin's agility, or noticing how he was almost too cocky and confident with his physical ability. But you weren't. If anything, you'd consider what you were doing as admiring.

"I'm not judging tiger." You smirked at the blush that crept upon the meta human's face, watching as he bowed his head and fled to the hallway.

You enjoyed having that affect upon people. You had learnt a lot from those who had raised you. Your mothers as they were known.

Green eyes darted to you. Jason had spotted you. "Don't you have a circus to run or some plants to grow?"

His voice hunted his irritance. He knew that you had been raised by Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, and he happened to hold it against you.

"Don't you have some blue eggs to squeeze out?" You retorted, coming away from the doorway and walking slowly towards Jason Todd.

"Funny." He simply remarked, not moving as you adventure closer. "What is the reason I am graced with your hilarious presence?"

The stick was still grasped in his left hand, since he had swapped it from his right when aiding Gar to his feet.

"Is it so hard to believe that I'm not here to taunt you or put you down like the others do?"

Hank was a criminal for it. He would purposely anger Jason, often ending in both a verbal and physical fight. You'd have thought that Hank, a grown man, would have more maturity than pick on a kid but apparently not.

Rachel made her occasional comments, whether that be away from his ears or not. Even if they were, Jason was well aware that she had a problem with him, even if it wasnt personal.

Kori never really had an opinion of him whatsoever. She had her own problems and it was visible that he was appreciative that she didn't consider him one of them.

Dawn kept her distance, but still stopped Hank from getting too into bullying the teenager. She was mature, not stupid. She was well aware of what Jason was capable of.

Dick always put him down. Telling him he could do and be better. It may have had the intention of being encouragement but it didn't work that way. It made his life even harder, reminding him that he wasn't the only Robin. Maybe he didn't want to be a copy of the Robin that Dick was. Just maybe he wanted to be his own version.

"Yes." He answered, tightening his grip whilst looking you in the eye the same way an enemy would.

It was stupid this whole ordeal was. Harley and Ivy stole you when you were a child from what you assumed to be a loving mother and hard working father. Yet Jason treated you as if it was your fault that you landed in their custody.

The others were nicer about the situation, possibly because you had distanced yourself from those villainous figures, and you were obedient. The same couldn't be said for Jason. He hated all of the rules that were set.

It was fine for him beforehand, when he had the full run of Wayne Manor. He could do whatever he wanted. But this was a base, a training facility that sheltered you all until you were ready to take on the real action.

"For all the time we have been here, I don't recall once doing such a thing." You smiled at him, but he only grimaced at the expression you put on your face. "Tell me if you do, refresh my memory if it's mistaken."

Jason couldn't hell himself, his eyes were trained to roll whenever you tried to be a smart ass. "Is it just a game to you? Why do you pretend to be so nice to me?"

It came blurting out of his mouth and he realised after. He had never voiced such a thing before.

"I don't pretend Jason." You told him, crossing your arms and looking down. "I've heard how hard your life was before Bruce, and I thought I'd cut you some slack. God knows that you need it."

He locked his lips nervously. He usually tried to present himself as proud and cocky, but it seemed that you had set off that switch in him.

"Do you maybe want to get out of here?" For all he knew, you would shove the offer back in his face or laugh at him for actually believing that you were joking all along. But you didn't. Instead you sent him a warm smile, one that you were clearly containing.

"And where do you have in mind?" You asked, knowing that you could trust him. You were a part of the same team, of course you could. If you couldn't have faith in one another, you couldn't have it in yourself.

...

Dick stopped Dawn when he saw her. This place, the past that came with it was a lot for them all to take in. But this was Titans Tower, a home for those who could do good with the bad in them.

"Have you seen Jason and (Y/N)?" Dawn wasnt the first person he had asked. He had yet to go around the rest of the tower, Gar had told him he saw you enter the training room just as he was leaving, but it was now empty.

"Maybe you should check the roof." She informed him. It wasnt meant to bring up their history, but when Dawn and Dick had been together, that had been their spot.

The sky was calming, even if it was under the influence of a storm. It was away from the world, and that was something they needed when being a hero.

He nodded at her, clambering up to where the roof was. And then he saw something he had never expected when he laid his feet on the very top surface.

You and Jason. It was a warm day, and the two of you barely noticed. The pair of you were curled into one another, with your eyes shut and your breathing calm.

This was how he wanted to see the two of you. Acting like teenagers instead of vigilantes in training.

The two of you had had such hard lives you deserved a break, and that was clearly what the two of you were having. Except you were sharing the time, seeing each other in a vulnerable state.

It made Dick feel old. He wasn't that old, but still, you kids were all growing up under their care, finding yourselves and each other.

...

You and Jason entered the dining space, together. Donna raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

Dick smirked at the Robin replacement, noticing how the boy kept stealing glances at you.

"I think you got a little burnt on the roof." Hank laughed at mostly Jason, which made him lower his head and shrink back into himself once again.

"He can't get burnt if he's already smoking hot." You defended him, leaning Hawk and everyone else at the table speechless.

Gar tried to stifle his laugh, but failed. For once he was happy to see you making someone other than him flustered.

And Jason was clearly flustered. His cheeks were glowing coral, and it wasn't due to the sun's beaming rays.

"You don't actually have a thing for him, do you?" Rachel attempted to joke, twirling her fork in her dominant hand.

"So what if I do?" You challenged her. The two of you got along, but you didn't appreciate anyone picking on Jason. It wasnt fair, they weren't even giving him a chance. "Perhaps you'd understand why if you stopped treating him like the shit on the bottom of your shoe."

"(Y/N)." Dick scolded you for your language but you ignored him.

You had let everyone's behaviour towards Jason slide for far too long. Today was the end of it, you'd ensure that. "No." You said to him. "None of you have even given him a chance, except for a few of us. You all look down at him or think of him as some rich spoilt boy. Maybe if you got to know him, or paid the littlest attention to detail, you would see how uncomfortable you all make him. He's human, like most of us in this room. He's done nothing but try and save our asses or follow Bruce's orders yet you still disregard him as the public does to us. Perhaps if you weren't such hypocrites, then you'd see the affect you are having on a teenage boy! "

There was nothing more you had to say, so you left, without eating or looking at Jason once more.

Dick tried to call you back, but instead you went to your room, where you hoped no one would bother you.

....

A fist lightly tapped your door. "I swear to god if it's you Rachel, I will got to the kitchen on a personal vendetta and grab that fork you were using and stab it into that stupid gem on your forehead."

But when you opened it you weren't met with Rachel. It was Jason.

"I hope you're not gonna stab me in the forehead." He sheepishly smiled, and you could only do the same. It was nice to hear him cracking the littlest of jokes.

You widened the entrance of your room, opening it so that he could enter. After he did, you shut it.

"Are you okay?" You were concerned. You knew the opinions of everyone in that room took a toll on him.

"I am after your explosive rant." He grabbed your hand. And then he frowned. "You must be hungry." He concluded.

"I'm fine." You assured him.

"Well we could always go out onto the streets and find some random food cart that serves overly expensive hot dogs." Jason still hadn't let go of your hand, and you didn't mind.

You let him see the warm smile again. "I'd like that." And you did.

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bisexualoftheblade-old · 3 years

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how many wips do you have? like what are they all, and not the number of wips in a fandom? what are all the names?

okay. fuck you. fuck you so much. fuck you.

i’m putting this under a read more cut no one else deserves to see this shit. a lot of these are requests, and for those i will just write out the request itself

Shadowhunters:

domestic polycule fluff with tem, jessa, and will because im not a coward

Supernatural

- hehe hoho i request destiel hehehe

- request 61/? cai cai cai cai i need you to rewrite the destiel scene but yk. GOOD. not like i'm in the know about the spn fandom or anything, it's been years for me. but DO IT

Bright Sessions

- caleb/adam grisha AU

- mark bryant vs. united states aka sue the AM

- caleb/adam college fluff

Umbrella Acaademy

- request 31/? i want a ben and klaus drabble please spare me some brotherly bickering

- AND SO BEGINS NIGHT 4 with request 13/? oooh oooh can i get a raymond and allison playlist??? i think their vibes together would SLAP

- hi there night 2 is technically morning 3 but who's counting not me anyway request 5/? can i get a ben moodboard? gotta rep my tua bb

Percy Jackson

- request 9/? can i get a percabeth moodboard or quote edit?? like god they're the og couple goals take me back to high school cai

- For the 100 follower things :D Jercy getting caught in the rain

- request 29/? a drabble about literally anything to do with pjo. i’ll be happy with anyone and anything i’m love these children

- *somersaults in like I’m a real fancy acrobat* hello ello ello may I request some camp half blood chaos possible involving *does a flip* ✨side characters✨ <3

Penumbra Podcast

- request 52/? drabble about the penumbra podcast. this is for ren bc ren likes it and i don't actually know anything about it. juno? i think? that's the one ren likes. write it for ren

- Tpp ghost hunting / buzzfeed unsolved au

- sad juno smut

- final resting place fic go brrrr

Marvel

- request 6/? i'm going to my roots y'all can i get a spider-man playlist? if not a playlist then i'd honestly be happy with literally anything involving spider-man

- request 15/? i'm going crazy this is recorded evidence of me actually losing it ANYWAY can i get a quote edit for something from iron man? literally anything that man says is gold so cai's choice :D he deserved better in endgame i'm still bitter

- request 42/? do another spidey thing that differs from the other spidey thing

- request 73/? you have Opinions. rant about infinity way and/or endgame. go.

- request 74/? quote edit for deadpool!!

- spideytorch relationship character study

- peter parker as a tired grad student monitoring the young avengers (send help)

Six of Crows

- okay listen i wasn't going to request anything bc i worry about you but also? if you want to/have the time hit me with a playlist for our girl nina zenik

- request 43/? fuckin give me the ending anya should have had. she is alive and with her new son and having a great time

- request 45/? inej moodboard?

- request 47/? will you make literally any meme of your choosing for six of crows?

- request 48/? write a drabble for kaz, my favorite bastard

- okay so i don't actually like nina or mattias that much but i still wanna hear about your thoughts (and also see if you'll change my mind)

- kaz brekker turning 18 fic. birthday party, everyone singing, whole shebang. i need it stat

- religious trauma fic aka i started shipping kaz/alina/inej and i can’t stop

- kaz trauma soup (he has D.I.D. and you can’t prove me wrong)

- my two redacted fics for @grishaversebigbang

- wesper fake dating

- six of crows bright sessions crossover: everyone gets therapy

TMA

- uhh... s1 gang having a nice time? melanie getting to have some Pride™️? some "fun" horror thing?

- request 7/? spare steph and jason bonding? please sir? spare some for a humble child such as myself?

- okay so this was meant for night 3 but i had midterm shit SO this is honorary night 3 let's DO THIS request 8/? i want a moodboard of extremely out of context magnus archives shit like i mean confuse the FUCK out of me i don't go here i know Nothing about it

- request 11/? OKAY so i need tim stoker meeting tim drake now i need my timmy to meet your tim plus i want to see character differences no i'm not trying to create a tim stoker in my head so i can read a's fic while NOT thinking of tim drake whaaaaaat you're crazy

- request 18(i think)/? i need a quote edit of every time within the first like. 15 eps of tam where jon is like “sounds fake but go off” thank u bb

- request 40/? i challenge you to write a tma drabble based only on the episodes i've heard. i'm currently halfway through episode 23

- Jon being lovingly bullied into taking a break. I'm aware this has been written a million times but it is one of my favorite things.

- spiral!sasha AU

- extinction martin go brrrrr

- high school era timsasha. they've both been friends for years, and everyone always asks when they will be a couple. they decide to fake date, to prove everyone wrong and show what a bad couple they would be. turns out that's a bit trickier than they thought

- after sasha comes back, tim is broken. he can't let go, scared that if he looks away for even a minute he'll lose her again. sasha suggests shibari as a way for him to give up control

- sasha pov mag 19 au, sacrificing herself to save the others, knows that if she gives herself up to the not!them it will let the others live

- this is the "tim finds a polaroid of sasha" trope

- early archives days,, long nights in research,,, clothes sharing,, somft. late nights and falling asleep at their desks warm and safe in the other's presence

- two parts: timsasha as kids, each picking a constellation that is "theirs". just soft kid antics. tim at sasha's grave glancing up to see their constellations

- continuing your job’s a joke (you’re broke)

DC Comics

- TIMSTEPH HADESTOWN AU,,,

- my redacted fic for @batfam-big-bang

- request for you to get a decent amount of sleep? serious answer, dickkori, SAL's Venus

- request 4/? timsteph morning after 👀 mayhaps?

- a concept: nonbinary stephanie brown

- teehee hi mom, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but can i request damian angst for your accomplishments 100 followers?

- hi you can ignore my first request if you want, or you can ignore this one. but bls possibly write some bikini ra’s? -the bikini bitch

- request 27/? jay is asking through me for a jondami playlist but tbh i also want it so win win yk?

- "I don't know how to help you but I can help you find someone who does" with bruce and jason? im just craving bruce being a good day to jason for once

- “I am putting you in time out because you need to understand the consequences of your actions.” with steph and jason as dumbass disaster bi best friends pretty please?

- request 32/? timsteph patrol date!!!

- request 33/? timsteph *gala* date? mayhaps??

- request 37/? tim drake drabble but make it Edgy cai

- request 39/? drabble of a prank war between tim and damian

- joyfire cuddly fluff please? or like just any outlaw fluff if joyfire isnt your thing (feel free to add every member of the outlaws, dont feel like u gotta stick with jason, kori, roy i love them all)

- barbara and robin! jason fluff? bonding over books or something?

- request 62/? i need a drabble about the chaotic trio jason, tim, and steph i'm love them ty

- request 63/? batfam x mcu crossover. batfam meets ironfam. give me ALL the cliches. ALL OF THEM

- request 64/? young justice x young avengers - jay cuz idk SHIT about the young avengers

- request 66/? jondami moodboard pls and ty

- request 67/? timsteph moodboard!!!!!!

- request 69/? HEHEHE kinky 😏 i would v much like a timsteph drabble of the almost first time. does that make sense? like i don't want you to go all the way NSFW cuz i know that's against the rules and i'm a rule follower. but like they *almost* go all the way. this could be fade to black or some shit i don't care just make it a lil steamy and have Fun

- i request damian angst! all of it

- hmm... maybe i request? jondami?

- mayhaps,,,,some batfam,,,,,committing crimes? ily be gay do crime <3 - lu

- How about a ficlet with Steph and Cass?

Found Family Bingo Prompts

- no powers au

- tunnel

- first day

- join the club

- hurt/comfort

- experiment

- playing favorites

- hold on

- possession

- 10 o’clock

- singing

- road

- snitch

- curfew

- timer

- fantasy au

- zombie au

- dreams

- campfire

- are you okay

- movie night

- games

- scared

Miscellaneous

- a request: Write A Drabble, Coward

- is it too late to request a moodboard for me?

- request 20/? i’m going off book because i’m in a Chaotic Mood™️ can you just absolutely vibe check me like go off cai demolish me

- request 21/? i formally request that you pick a favorite cai. i don’t care what that favorite pertains to, just pick a favorite something

- request 23/? roast me

- request 24/? can i have a buzzfeed unsolved spoopy playlist but spoiler alert it’s not spoopy bc shane doesn’t believe does this make sense it has been a Day™️

- request 25/50 i want a jake and amy fic make it Soft cai i’m love them b99 is so good

- request 28/? i know nothing about the lord of the rings so make something that will confuse the shit out of me

- request 34/? malvie and jaylos moodboards 😈

- request 35/? a moodboard for the bbb mods!! perceive all of us!!!

- request 36/? moodboard for the tua mods too???? mayhaps??

- request 41/? doctor WHO? idk but i want a drabble of him and the one character i know from doctor who which is rose

- request 46/? make an alignment meme with our group, have fun!!!

- request 49/? i want you to kin assign me a character from every fandom you can/want to. go feral

- request 50!!!!/? this is a special request. the most special request. can you make a bastards tbh playlist? i want our vibes encapsulated. i want us in music form. i want to hear those songs and be like "that's me and cai" and smile.

- requests 51/? i know jack shit about good omens. explain it to me in the most confusing way possible. make me know less by the end than i know now

- request 53/? can you write a mel aesthetic? i'm Curious

- request 54/? give me a list of book recs cai i want some good book recs pls

- request 56/? edit a picture of US together too

- request 58/? oooh can i have a disney edit? like. hm. i just really love disney and i want anything to do with disney. like a quote or an aesthetic or an aesthetic edit i just want disney.

- request 59/? i would v much like a recipe for carbonara. i've never had it but it sounds fucking delicious

- request 60/? ooh hey can i get a makeup tutorial? i know you like makeup, i'm shit at doing makeup. teach me

- request 65/? i need the most emo playlist you can make that vibes with dear evan hansen thank you

- request 68/? i want a superwholock moodboard. this can be serious, with the actual fandoms in mind, or literally what the era felt like. the insanity. the horror.

- request 70/? ooh ooh ooh do you have a good bread recipe?? i wanna get that bread

- request 71/? i want a playlist with the vibes of summoning a demon. please don't ask questions. i don't have answers. and if i do, no i don't.

- For the requests, how about writing something based on a friend?

- request 75/? MMMM i want literally anything to do with natasha, pierre, and the great comet of 1812

- request 76/? i want some healthy recipes. help a girl out

- a feral bbb quote or two?

- you perceive my plant but now I dare thee to perceive mine own visage

- okay this is a two for one request. 1. you did the bee movie script so now we need a shrek two script edit 2. sleep please

- Pansexual mb for my lil queer soul?

- my (probably) final request is just for you to ramble about something, i don't really care what

- HI ILY CONGRATS AS WELL CAUSE IM LATE BUT CONGRATS. could i request a pirates of the caribbean (or just pirates) or whatever you what to do, free range.

- mood board for the beluga whales who got brought to the animal sanctuary in Iceland please?

- 100 follower request: Moodboard for my stuffed cow Oaky?

#cai's 200 #asks #mininacl

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

Text

Shadows of the Neon Lights - fic

Characters: Jason Todd, Damian Wayne Summary: He didn’t know what was more surprising - that someone else had come after him, or that it was Jason Todd, of all people, trying to stop him from killing. A/N: For Patreon supporter Leydy! Happy birthday sweet human, and thank you for all your support and kindness! You’re amazing! This is obviously some time after the Teen Titans Annual 2 confrontation/after Ric and Alfred’s death.

He had the man right where he wanted. A wannabe serial killer who hadn’t found his stride yet, but already killed three sex workers. Each in a different way, so no one had found the connection yet.

But Damian had.

He’d followed him for days, and now he had him next to the dumpster behind the strip joint he was casing for his next victim.

The man was sniveling and crying. Begging for his life as Damian pressed the dagger against his throat.

Damian didn’t care. This bastard deserved it.

So he smiled, and pulled the knife back. Then spun it to grasp it in his fist, aimed it to plunge right into the man’s chest.

One less scumbag in the world.

But right as he began to drop his hand, a gunshot rang out, and the blade shattered in his fingers.

The man shrieked, and Damian jumped back with a curse. He glanced over as the Red Hood strolled out of the alleyway, dramatically blowing the smoke from his gun’s barrel.

“What’d he do?” Jason asked carefully, removing his helmet.

“Killed three women. Staking out a fourth.” Damian snapped. “But that doesn’t matter to you, he’s my ki-”

Jason’s gun went off again. The man jerked once, then collapsed to the ground, a hole between his eyebrows.

“Not your kill.” Jason hummed. “Robin doesn’t have kills.”

“In case you haven’t heard.” Damian drawled, kicking at the now-dead man’s leg as he stepped over him. “I’m not Robin anymore.”

“Yeah, B told me.” Jason shrugged, and that seemed to just make Damian more annoyed. “What’s up with that?”

Damian scoffed, crossed his arms and turned to look down the alley behind him. “Like you care.”

“I do, actually. You’re my kid brother, whether either of us like it or not.” Jason countered. “And even I’m not so stubborn as to ignore the fact that we’ve all been through a lot lately. It takes a toll.” Jason glanced down at him. “And no one’s checked in with you about it all, have they?”

Damian refused to look at him. “You said Father told you.”

“He did. But I don’t take his word for anything.” Jason smirked. “…I do believe him on the you not being Robin anymore, and also going on a killing spree thing, though.”

“It’s not a spree.” Damian hissed. “It’s what needs to be done.”

“But not by you.” Jason argued. “I thought Dickie got you off that path.”

Damian turned away from him completely now.

“…Ah. So Bruce was telling the truth.” Jason murmured. “This really is about what happened to Dick and Alfred.”

Damian didn’t answer. Stared down at the dead body.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.” Jason promised. Then he lowered his voice. “Especially not to Alfred.”

“I was there. I should have done something.” Damian whispered.

“You were tied up and unconscious.” Jason tried, stepping forward. “What were you supposed to do?”

“Fight back. Literally, anything.” Damian returned. “But what I didn’t do then, I’m doing now.”

“Killing them before they hurt too many, or anyone else.” Jason nodded. “In their honor, right?”

“I suppose.”

“You weren’t there for Dick’s situation.” Jason crossed his arms now too. Thoughtfully. “How were you supposed to stop that one?”

“Killed KGBeast when he became a known player.” Damian decided. “He would have been dead years ago, so unavailable to take the mission.”

“Sure, then someone else would have been asked to do it.” Jason sniffed. “And then they might have been a better shot.”

Damian didn’t respond to that. Didn’t move. Jason glanced him over, checked for any injuries or illness. Kid seemed fine at a glance. Just dirty, clothes starting to wear out. A few new holes that probably weren’t there when he started this little crusade.

Jason sighed.

“They wouldn’t want this for you, Damian.” Jason whispered. “Alfred or Dick.”

“Well, they’re not here to stop me, are they?” Damian snapped. His arms were still crossed, but now he seemed to bend in on himself. Hug himself.

“No, they’re not.” Jason agreed. “But I am.”

That made Damian turn around in surprise.

“And yes, before you whine about it, I’m fully aware it makes me a hypocrite.” Jason raised his hands in defense. “But we’ve lost enough this year. Excuse me if I’m not keen on adding you and your morality to that damn list.”

“…It’s what needs to be done.” Damian murmured sadly. “And Batman refuses to do it. That’s why, after all these years he’s been active, Gotham is still a hellhole. That’s why he loses those he claims to love time after time after damn time.”

Jason nodded. “Then I’ll do it. Not you.”

“I’m the most equipped to handle it!” Damian shouted now, stomping back at him. “I’ve been trained to do just this for my entire life!”

“And you shouldn’t have been!” Jason yelled back. “Talia should have protected you. Dick should have protected you better. Bruce should have talked to you about all this before he realized you’d already reached your fucking breaking point!”

“So then what else do you want me to do?!” Damian almost begged, tears welling up in his eyes. “Sit at home with the rest of you and grieve? Keep doing everything I was, like the only two people who ever cared about me weren’t ripped out of my life for no reason?!”

“I want you to slow down.” Jason said, tone instantly softer as he took hold of Damian’s shoulders. “I want you to let us take care of you.”

“Well I want to make sure no one goes through what we have.” Damian mumbled in return, the fight instantly leaving his system. “…What I have.”

“And I get that. I do.” He smiled and gestured to himself. “I mean, hello? I totally understand.” He let his smile drop. “But before we take care of everyone else, why don’t we try taking care of you first?” He paused for a second, squeezed Damian’s arms. “Why don’t we do it together?”

Damian just stared at him. “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure. Totally. So can I.” Jason winked. “But humour me. Just this once.”

Damian glanced down at Jason’s hands on his arms. “…You’re not going to let me go until I agree, will you?”

“You were taught better than to let your enemies get too close, remember?” Jason smiled.

Damian sighed and rolled his eyes. “Why do you care so much, Todd? What does it matter to you what I do?”

“Because as surprising as it may be, I don’t want you to end up like me.” Jason said honestly. A little too honestly for Damian’s taste. “You deserve better than… this.”

Damian looked him up and down. “…No I don’t.”

“A debate we can have later.” Jason laughed. “So, what do you say? Will you come home with me?”

Damian immediately jerked back in his hold, almost tripping over the dead body that Jason practically forgot was there. “No. No way.” He said immediately. “I am not going back to the manor.”

“Slow your roll, kiddo, you didn’t let me finish!” Jason called, reeling him back in. “You know I don’t live at the manor. When I say home, I mean come back to my home. A safehouse outside the city.”

Damian hesitated at that, eyeing Jason warily.

“I won’t even tell B that I found you, or that you’re with me.” Jason promised. “And I know you’re already itching to run. So at the very least, let me take you back to my place, get you a hot meal, a shower, and one decent night’s sleep. Then we’ll talk for real after that. Okay?”

Damian tilted his head, glancing up at the strip club in thought.

And it was a 50-50 chance that it would work. It could make the kid collapse in tears, or convince him to pull out that second knife Jason knew he had hidden on him and stab it into Jason’s throat. But he had to try. He had to.

“…It’s what Dick and Alfie would want you to do.”

To his surprise, Damian didn’t react immediately. Still kept his eyes upwards as he thought. Then, finally, he lowered his gaze to Jason. He blinked slowly, and Jason only now realized how tired the kid looked. Sad.

Lonely.

“Fine.” Damian said quietly after a moment. “I will take your food.”

Jason hadn’t realized his heart was tight with tension until it loosened at his words. He smiled and ruffled the kid’s hair as he stood, sliding his other hand down Damian’s arm until their fingers tangled together.

Damian didn’t even try to let go.

Jason glanced back at the dead man – who did deserve it, Damian wasn’t wrong about that – and made sure there was nothing around the body that would implicate Damian at least. When he saw nothing, he nodded and tugged the kid along behind him in the alleyway.

“Have any preference for dinner?”

“…Anything edible, I suppose.” Damian muttered thoughtfully. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled lightly. Jason smiled sympathetically.

“Well, that rules out anything I know how to cook.” Jason joked. He heard Damian snort a laugh behind him. That was as good a start as any. “So how about we find some nice, greasy takeout instead?”

Damian squeezed his hand, and Jason took that as silent gratitude. A thanks he was too embarrassed to admit. “That sounds perfect.”

#Damian Wayne #Jason Todd

43 notes · View notes

iggy-of-fans · 5 years

Text

Finally there. The last chapter. The epilogue. The long awaited finale with a Raven redemption, Adrian's story, reactions and a lot of fluffy fluff! Over 3000 words for this.

LIFE GOES ON

Bruce stood at his window, overlooking the rose garden in the backyard, gathered with everyone except Damian and Marinette. There was a strong sense of anticipation in the room. As Bruce looked about him, some of the Kwami zooming around the room, he thought back to the events three years ago. Guardian Angel officially joining the Justice League, the great battle of Gotham, and returning of teenage renegade to Paris. He still got chills when he remembered Agreste's statement of events.

The room was quiet for a moment as Adrien tried to think of where to begin. He stared at the ceiling.

"It starts a year before Hawkmoth first appeared. My mother and father and I lived happily together, father was busy at work, but we were all very happy. Sometimes I would hear them shouting, but it would turn to moans not long after, and father told me when I asked once that mother just needed to be loved properly. Then mother disappeared and father searched furiously for her, until eventually she was proclaimed as dead. Father became distant, and I rarely ever saw him except if I messed up or something. So I tried to be the perfect son, but I wanted some freedom, friends, to fall in love like all my animes. I snuck out of the mansion to go to school, and almost made it in when I saw this old man needed help. So my father's assistant caught me and brought me home. But there was a box on my table, and with it I became Chat Noir. I thought Ladybug was my soulmate because how could we not be? Then my father agreed to let me go to school and I became friends with Marinette and Nino and Alya and my childhood friend Chloe was there too. It was perfect. I was a hero, I had friends, I had a soulmate. But Ladybug was always turning me down, and she was allowed to choose more heroes, and she refused to have any fun. And then Lila Rossi transferred and she liked to tell tall tales, but she wasn't hurting anyone. Marinette was just being too hard on her, too stubborn. If she'd just let it go, just played nice, she would've been fine. Lila would eventually get tired of it all. I always had her back and she knew that. Her 14th birthday, Lila told me about Marinette's love for me. Marinette was supposed to wait for me and we would have a magical night. I found her a ways away, and thought she'd just gotten sick of waiting for me, but I made it up to her and brought her home. But two nights later, the police swarmed our home, and were shouting about my father being Hawkmoth, which is impossible, because he was Akumatized! And I was taken in, because Chat Noir was being accused of rape! And Nathalie was supposed to be Mayura! And none of that made sense! So I tried to have them find Marinette, because she would be able to clear everything up. Three days went by when Ladybug showed up, carrying Marinette's dead body to the police. She had a video of my classmates hurting her, hurting Marinette. And she had the power to fix her and didn't. I was devastated. Then Marinette appeared to me. She was as real and bright as ever. She wanted to be with me. And I wanted to create the perfect world for her. Our class would all be friends, Chloe would be nice to her, and Lila would be her best friend, and Marinette would be Ladybug instead. My mother and father would be happy and together forever, and they would love Marinette just as much as me. Marinette was the one who planned everything and told me what to do. But I knew no one else saw her. But I did as she told me, because once I made my wish, nothing bad would ever happen to her again" Adrien spoke with passion in his voice, but his eyes never met theirs.

Batman and Wonder Woman's eyes met. This wasn't their first rodeo with the mentally unstable.

"Do you feel any remorse at all, knowing that those lives you took will forever remain dead?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Ladybug is the only one guilty. She could bring them back if she wanted to."

"The ladybug powers do not work like that. My mother was once a Ladybug. She needs to absorb the negative energy of a magical attack, like with the Demon, and she uses that to rebuild the world. She can not create or bring back life or heal, because when she does it, she is merely absorbing the darkness from their bodies. Otherwise there would never have been ill in Paris. The dead would have risen everyday. Can you not see that? " Wonder Woman asked.

" Marinette would never lie to me" Adrien stated. He was looking to his side, smiling softly. Wonder Woman was especially concerned that he saw her still, even while under the influence of the rope of Hestia, which should break through every delusion.

The interview concluded, it was decided that Adrien Agreste would serve life in a French Asylum, without bail. When his family was contacted, his father was emotionless, his mother just disinterested. She'd always known he'd be just like his father.

Bruce came back to the present when Damian and Marinette walked onto the scene below. Her 18th birthday was just around the corner, and they were planning a family party for her in that very garden. But Damian had asked for a sem-private moment with her. Knowing they'd all find a way to spy on them anyways, he'd told them to just watch from the office. Damian had grown up a lot since meeting Marinette. He was still chaos impersonate, still the calm before the storm and determined beyond anyone else his age. But he was also considerate of other people, he didn't lash out as quickly or as violently. He took the time to get to know his brothers better, and he showed his gratitude to them in small ways, like remembering their favorite bands and buying concert tickets, or simply sitting with them after a rough mission instead of dealing with it alone. The family was closer than ever before. So Bruce smiled with hope when he watched Damian kneel in the grass.

Dick watched as Damian walked into the garden, speaking quietly with his "Angel". She'd grown into a beautiful young woman, her scars had healed, both physically and emotionally with the constant presence of Damian at her side. He proved his love to her with every word he spoke, with every comforting hug. He truly always had her back and there was nothing the youngest Wayne wouldn't do for Marinette. Even forgiving Raven.

Nightwing and StarFire took Raven back to Star City, where they had built a special cage built in case Trigon ever sent his sons to do his bidding. Placing Raven inside, Nightwing paced. He still remembered Guardian Angel's expression as she fell, thinking that it had been Damian. More than that, he remembered watching as Raven ruthlessly ripped the earrings out of Marinette's ears, or the sick smirk on her face. He paced some more, ignoring Korri's worried looks. When Raven started stirring he walked in, expression cold as he stared down at the petite girl. Once, he would have been happy to call her sister. Now though.

"What happened?" Raven asked, looking at the cage around her. His frown deepened.

"How dare you?" he hissed, the snake miraculous still gleaming around his wrist. He was usually the one to enforce the "no kill" rule the strongest amongst the family, but he could feel the temptation to strongly. Raven furrowed her brow, trying to remember what had happened to get her locked up, but could remember nothing past Damian walking into the ballroom with a girl on his arm. She'd remembered feeling slightly crushed that her crush seemed to have moved on, but the next she knew, everything went dark. Now here she was, in a cage to hold her brothers. What had she done?

"What…. What have I done?" Raven asked, her voice pleading. Nightwing felt his anger rise even more. How dare she sit there, looking innocent. He couldn't believe anything she said or did, because really, who would turn so willingly on her teammates. Who would abandon their friends in mid battle and turn around and kill one of them. He didn't believe the innocent act at all. Korri placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to step in front of him but he wouldn't budge, glaring with all the hatred an older brother could feel.

"Damian had just walked in with the new member of the Justice League. I was sad, because… Well, you know I have a crush on him. But then things got dark, and I heard someone saying something, like a whisper. I thought I passed out. What happened?" she asked again. Nightwing was still not buying it. He felt his hackles rise, wanting to get her to confess.

"And you just expect me to believe that?" he growled, his muscles tensing.

"Nightwing! We know how powerful Trigon is! He only just escaped, we have no idea if he left a mark on her!"

"we also know that Raven is more powerful than that. She has him captured. Is it so wrong to believe she just snapped?" Nightwing snapped at Korri, the image would forever haunt him.

"What?" Raven was so confused. Korri wasn't much better, since she had been on the other side of the battle, and with second chance, no one else remembered anyways. Perhaps we should call WonderWoman here" Korri suggested calmly, trying to settle the tension in Nightwing's shoulders. Nightwing wanted to just throw the cage into a deep hole and never look at her again.

A Portal suddenly opened behind them and Robin stepped through. His fox transformation had long worn off, but Nightwing knew he still had it on him. However, instead of turning on Raven and tearing into her, he turned to Nightwing and held out his hand.

"Guardian Angel I'd worried about your emotional stability right now. Hand over the Miraculous before you do something that will haunt you as much as whichever image makes you so angry now. The ability to fix or change a situation can corrupt even the purest of souls, and you haven't been tested to be a permanent holder." Nightwing didn't even twitch, keeping his arms crossed and his face in a scowl. Nobody would even remember if he slid his finger over the bracelet.

"Please Richard. You do not want that on your conscience" Robin pleaded, his face softening into understanding. And really, who other than Robin, and maybe Red Hood, would understand better? He sighed and reached for the bracelet.

"Transform me" he mumbled, and a blue light went up under his other suit. Sass flew right through the portal, a blue blur trying to get away. Nightwings shoulders hunched. He was no better than that blonde idiot and his friends. Robin grasped the Miraculous and reached his other hand on his shoulder. "No one knows what you do about this battle, Richard, though Guardian Angel has a guess she won't share. What you saw was one outcome, one possibility of many, and you prevented the worst. But you are not all knowing about people, and the Justice League has wrongfully confronted Raven once before. Let Wonder Woman question Raven, and take comfort that no matter her answer, it is the truth."

" when did you get so wise, baby bird?" Nightwing whispered, finally relaxing his posture completely.

" Angel told me most of what I should say before I came through. The rest…. I've just had some good influences in my life, I guess"

Nightwing smiled and Robin stepped back through the portal to Gotham. A few minutes later, Wonder Woman stepped through her own.

"Agreste?" Nightwing asked.

"Still in surgery. Oracle said she'd monitor him for me and send me back in time for the questioning. Now, Guardian said you needed my help?" Korri nodded.

"I'm afraid we can't just accept her word at face value right now. We have no idea if what she's saying is true."

Wonder Woman nodded and sent the Rope of Hestia through a breathing hole. Raven easily picked it up and wrapped it around her wrist multiple times and looked up.

" What is the last thing you remember?" Wonder Woman asked.

" We were all in the ballroom, and Damian came walking in with the new girl. He looked so calm and happy and kept staring at her. I was choking a little bit. I'd had a crush on him since he first came to the tower, and… I just wanted to get some fresh air. I couldn't breathe properly and my head was starting to hurt. I kept hearing whispering, and I just thought some of the guests had noticed, but then I just blacked out. I came to and I was in this box" Raven stated, looking concerned. Oracle decided to find footage of the ballroom.

"Found her. Here come Damian and… Raven just grabbed her head. She is shaking it slightly. I'm picking up a rusty red glow from the jewel in her head. And she's back. She changes her outfit around the time Wonder Woman starts talking. But otherwise, there's no change" Oracle dictates over the comms.

"Can you please send Guardian through? We may need her to look at the jewel and drain it" Wonder Woman says. The comms are quiet for a while, before finally another portal opens. Guardian Angel comes through, followed closely by Robin with his katana drawn. Raven groans slightly and reaches for her head.

"Did I steal your sword?" she asks, her eyes wide and worried. Robin merely nodded before looking at his Angel. She takes a deep breath before walking up to the box.

"Please stand as close to grass as possible" she tells Raven. She's weary, and something is telling her not to, but Wonder Woman gives her a firm tug of the rope, and glares at her in warning. She crawls over to glass and shakily stands up, placing her forehead to the hold not with the rope through it. Guardian Angel raises her hand and places it over the glass on her side, and immediately a black aura tries to lash out at her. She flies back against the far wall, and Robin and Nightwing become defensive.

"NO! Get out of my head!" Raven yells, falling back to the ground and clutching her ears. Guardian Angel is on her feet immediately and rushes back, breaking the glass container. She clutches her hands around Ravens and whispers in an ancient tongue, the Guardian Language. A pink glow emanates from their forms and when it disappears, Guardian Angel is passed out, and Raven is barely hanging onto consciousness. The crystal that once held her father, a black diamond in her head, is now pink.

"He's gone!" Raven manages to whisper out, before passing out as well. Robin rushes to his Angel's side and quickly brings her through the portal back to Gotham, while the others all stare at Raven. Now what do they do?

Dick remembered how Raven struggled with her magic after that. It took her months to gain back control, as her father had been slowly corrupting it, and with it, Raven as well. But Marinette never held her in contempt, like Dick had. She forgave her and helped her heal, and Damian meditated with her to help as well. Raven was now Marinette's best friend, and she wholly agreed that she was better off with Tim, who had been by her side, analyzing her magic capability. Their family had grown so strong from her forgiving and kind nature. He smiled as he tuned back in to see Marinette throw herself into Damian's embrace.

Tim was so happy, watching his little brother and his future-sister-in-law on the lawn. The past three years had gone by quickly, with Damian growing up into a strong, pure force for good. He looked down to Raven's smiling face, and knew she felt nothing but content, watching her sister in all but blood be so overcome with joy. Three years ago, no one would've thought that this would be the outcome after the exhausting battle and aftermath.

The destruction cleaned up, the villains in jail, Raven cleansed and only waiting to hear Agreste's story, Timothy couldn't quite rest yet. He went to the detention centre and asked to see the Parisian boys, to hear what they had to say. He'd come alone, but saw no reason for them to lie or try to fight. He still had his transformation going under his Red Robin suit, so he was confident he'd be okay.

"Max Kantê and Nino Lahiffe. I've come to take your statements" he said, funnelling as much authority as he could into his statements. The boys' heads snapped up from where they sat. Max gulped audibly, while Nino just looked exhausted. He nodded and sat up a bit.

"Why did you come to Gotham?"

"I wanted to warn Marinette. Max wasn't given a choice" Nino stated calmly.

"I believe from video evidence that Marinette is dead" Red Robin said. Nino just shook his head.

"I think a part of me always knew, but I just didn't want to think, at first, that one of my best friends would go swinging into danger like that. Then, after Lila joined, it was just easier to believe her. And she hated Marinette, so she couldn't be Ladybug. Ladybug carrying Marinette's body into the police station would've fooled most, but I just always had a feeling she wasn't completely gone. I just… Assumed I guess… " Nino tapered off, looking at Red Robin hopefully.

" Marinette Dupain-Cheng is dead" he shook his head. Nino's face fell and he looked at his hands. He shook and cried. He'd been against Alya's plan to attack Marinette, and hadn't been there. Maybe he could've stopped it. He thought that maybe that was why he'd come. A second chance to be a real friend.

Max looked lifelessly at Red Robin.

"My family was murdered by Adrien. I… I have nowhere to go." He finally managed to choke out. Red Robin nodded, aware of the atrocities committed in Paris.

"What do you want to happen? You both were the reason the Justice League was able to mobilize so quickly. From evidence gathered and statements from Cesaire, we were able to gather that neither of you ever did anything against the law or of your own free will. Kantê, as you said, your family is unable to take guardianship of you, and if you choose to return to Paris, you may be held in contempt from the public. Lahiffe, your family has been made aware, but they are currently speaking to Social Services, as they're scared for their other son's health and safety" Tim said.

"And if we stay here?" Max asked while Nino broke into a fresh wave of tears. He'd never be allowed near Chris again.

"... The Teen Titans have long asked for an Oracle of their own…" Red Robin tapered off, leaving the rest for them to interpret and think about," you'd be under house arrest for a while at least. But… You could do some real good there."

Max nodded after a moment and Nino did too, still too emotionally distraught to do much else. Red Robin smiled.

"You'll be moved to your new residence in a couple of weeks," he said, and turned and left as abruptly as he came.

Max Kantê, now known as Le Donnèes and Nino Lahiffe, now Sécurise, became an integral part of Teen Titan operations and training, often conferring with Oracle on large Justice League missions. It was easy to say that they'd become amazing heroes. Nino and Max were in Paris now, in fact, for the first time since leaving. Nino had earned his right to see his brother again, but didn't want to go alone. They'd been quite emotional when Marinette came to them the first time, and they'd become close friends once again. Things were far from perfect in the world, but right this moment, nothing at all could ruin this.

And done. I hope you enjoyed! I've been reading a lot salt and angst, and I wanted to get this out of my system, and maybe write another, more happy, one soon. I'm afraid there's no tag list for this because like an idiot, I forgot to write it out, but I'll try to add it in post haste

#jason todd #marinette deserves better #ml salt #maribat #adrien salt #richard grayson #maridami #tim drake #Daminette #marinette x damian #damian wayne #Raven #Wonder Woman #marinette dupain cheng #Guardian Marinette #BatFam #Happy Ending

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notquiteaghost · 3 years

Text

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

tagged by @deanwinchestergender, going in chronological order, ignoring notfic and also a specific number, not tagging anyone but feel free to say i did

1. Taako is not wallowing, he is a dignified young elf who has his life together, and he’s definitely not drinking away his sorrows in one of Neverwinter’s apparent bounty of shitty dive bars. That would be pathetic, and he is definitely not pathetic. | unstitch all the shit i’ve sewn, the adventure zone balance, mallet to the head about the unreliable narrator here!

2. The droid is propped up in the corner of the only building on the whole block with a roof. Cassian's never been one to put any stock in the Force, or fate, but something about this feels serendipitous regardless. | it’s great to have this chance to fail, star wars: rogue one, this is the first fic i wrote where i actually went back & tried to cut as many words as i could. cassian is A Man Of Few Words

3. Obi-Wan Kenobi is not like any other CO Cody’s had, not even among the Jedi. Not only does ze treat the clones like people - asks them their opinions, encourages their individuality, tries to get them all addicted to tea - but ze… gets it, somehow. | boy just let me hold you, star wars: the clone wars, oof this sure was the first time i wrote cody i do not like this anymore!

4. The facility is large, stiflingly hot, and covered in varying sorts of dirt and grime. Screams and groans echo through near-constantly. The work is exhausting, repetitive, mindless. | i think i get to keep coming back, star wars: the clone wars, oh do i love me a rule of three

5. The first time Kenobi had made Cody tea after a battle, ze had claimed to have made a full pot on autopilot - I'm having trouble adjusting to no longer having a Padawan, I'm afraid. He likes this particular blend far more than I do - and had practically forced Cody to drink it, for a given value of 'forced'. | our turn to carve windows, star wars: the clone wars

6. Every new batch of shinies gets younger, somehow. | the cost of war, star wars: the clone wars

7. On a statistically significant percentage of missions, both McKay and Ronon are functionally useless. | tearing out the sutures, stargate atlantis

8. It’s early afternoon on a Wednesday, and Jon is sat on the floor of his office. | but i was looking at his hand, the magnus archives, fun fact this fic came from me sitting on my kitchen floor dissociating

9. It’s not like– Barry’s not some sheltered recluse, this isn’t his first time meeting a trans person. Or, y’know, obviously he hadn’t managed three decades of city living without meeting a single trans person, but. Knowingly, this isn’t even his first time knowingly meeting a trans person. He has no excuse for this bullshit his brain has spent the last week spewing. | struggle to breathe / breathe, the adventure zone balance, establishing barry has adhd right off the bat

10. “Jon?” | capable of coming out alive, the magnus archives

11. Jaskier isn’t an idiot. He knows Geralt knows that — has, on multiple occasions, forced Geralt to admit he is, actually, capable and useful and, even, in some respects, smarter than Geralt. | and still i will live here, the witcher, not vagueing anyone at all here

12. Sometimes, Jaskier gets an itch. | gnawing through the bars, the witcher

14. When Geralt is ten, she’s a boy. | come on out and live, the witcher, what we're learning here is i like single sentence hooks

15. “If life could give me one blessing,” Geralt snarls, “it would be to take you off my hands!”

And, well. That’s not the worst thing anyone’s ever said to Jaskier, but it’s definitely the worst thing Geralt has said, and as willing as he is to cut the emotionally constipated idiot a fair amount of slack, when it comes to this sort of thing, Geralt isn’t the only one who’s had something of a trying week. | and come back later for it, the witcher, some bonus lines because the first one here is just canon dialogue, i'm still very proud of my jaskier voice in this

16. The first time Clint meets Daredevil, he’s led on his back on the roof of an apartment building in Hell’s Kitchen, bleeding from several places. | and we are not alone together, marvel, i started this fic like eight times..... got there tho

17. After Jon’s explained he is not, no matter how Martin asks, killing Oliver Banks unprovoked, and Martin’s gotten his sulk out his system, and they’re almost out the other side of the Corpse Routes, Jon asks, careful to keep the compulsion out his voice, “You do know why Oliver woke me up and you didn’t, right?” | shoulder to shoulder, the magnus archives

18. He wasn’t expecting it to be a thing, is the problem. | there’s nothing i wouldn’t do, marvel, this is just something i say all the time

19. Dick jokes, a lot, about being the only reason Bruce still remembers how to talk to people. About breaking him in for everyone else. He was Robin first, and he was Robin longest, and he’s why Bruce took in the others, he’s why Bruce isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. | in my own imperfect way, batfam

20. over a year ago i asked bruce what company policy on transitioning was like and yet this man was still surprised when i came out | to become public, evident, known, batfam

i think of these my favourite is "When Geralt is ten, she's a boy" because it tells you all you need to know & it’s only seven words. this was a nice exercise in realising i do actually know smth abt story structure, also. almost all of these are good as hooks

#yelling at clouds #if this comes up in any tags im sorry

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typinggently · 4 years

Note

So what do you think Feral™ Bruce’s relationship with his kids would be like? Somewhere in my bones I feel that he’d have a better relationship with all of them than in canon, but I wonder what you think! Love your blog, btw!!!

Hello Love!!! Thank you so much for your message! 🥰🧡🧡

I took some time to reflect on this and really think it through, since there are two problems: 1) I only really know about the “fandom favourites”, as in Dick (who I know most about since I used to read the 50s comics as a kid), Jason, Tim, Damian. And thus I felt a little unqualified since I know so little about the girls etc.

2) Rob is 33, which means the Robins would all have to be VERY young. Realistically, I guess, we could assume timeline-wise Jason would’ve died not too long ago? But I’m just going to ignore realism. So, without further ado

Feral Bruce and his Robins

Dick: Bruce adopting Dick makes sense to me, since the grief over his own lost family is so fresh in his mind. He’d lay eyes on this heartbroken child and immediately jump into action. However, due to his age and personality, this wouldn’t have a TRACE of a father/son relationship. Not even close. They’re chaos siblings, with Bruce as the messy rat and Dick as the adoring golden boy. He’s super proud of his older bro and tells others about how cool he is, which everyone 100% buys because it’s Bruce Wayne, of course he’s super cool. They don’t know that Dick’s definition of cool is “he slipped on his own 3 hour old puddle of sprite and did a funny backflip”. Now - as they grow older: I say they’re rather close due to their shared history(&shared grief), and they’re in a way rather similar. Similar fighting styles (both acrobats and very graceful, while Dick is more of a show-off while Bruce is more erratic), similar sense of humour and taste in films etc. I also think they don’t have a dramatic falling out, Dick just fucks off. Bruce is definitely sad about it, but I think he respects Dick’s need for personal growth since he himself isn’t exactly an overbearing cuddly person and most likely shut himself away for a few days at a time in the past. Idk. I think they get each other really well. So yeah, their relationship is def better!!

Jason: Bruce sees a kid trying to hotwire the batmobile and recognises a kindred spirit. Jason pros - he has a lot of that chaotic energy Bruce has. Jason cons - he lacks the grace and self-control. In general, I feel like pre-Joker Jason and Bruce had a rather good relationship as well. Once again not really that father figure thing, though. But Bruce moved up from”chaotic older brother” to “cool older brother” - since he now has a bit of a grip on how to treat teenagers, even though Jason doesn’t take to his rules as well as Dick did (I see many a person interpret Bruce as kind of lenient and clueless, letting the kids run wild and free, and while I agree with the base levels of that, I’m p sure that Bruce in any version is so built on self-control, that he’d impose that on others as well. Strict meal plans, exercises, etc). Jason’s death is a thing I really don’t know how to handle, because Bruce has such a thin skin. Frankly, I don’t know how he’d survive something like that. Grief is terrible and heart-breaking, and I’m not sure how well-equipped Bruce would be. It’s a very, very dark time. Red Hood is another thing. Bruce can barely fight Harvey, so I don’t see how he’d manage to interact with Jason. I honestly think he’d completely pull back from him. I don’t know how they’d heal from that and I’m not sure how Bruce would deal with the core of Jason’s anger. Fighting him is one thing (which he absolutely cannot do), but understanding him and trying to mend what’s broken is another. Very difficult. Very heartbreaking.

Tim: that would just be a mess. There aren’t any real descriptions of Batman, because his contact with civilians/the GPD is minimal and can you trust villains? They say his fighting style is erratic, but can you trust them? Can you believe Riddler, madly gnawing on his hat, when he tells you Batman threw a comically large plush bat at him and then bonked him over the head with a “bat-knocker”?! What I’m saying: Tim figures the “I love the Ritz. I just wish they had soda-fountains. They have the room and people would love it. A fountain of sparkling-cool orange soda in the hall, catching the light and making those nice ambient sounds. That would be glam. What was the question?” - act is an act, but he’s not at all prepared for the actual Feral Bruce Experience™️. He drops himself off on Bruce’s doorstep and holds his whole “I know who you are” speech until Bruce opens the door and the guy is wearing a kilt and a “world’s #1 Bat” shirt, drinking hot beetroot juice and greets him by saying “how the fuck did you get past the sprinklers?” In short - Tim didn’t expect to be the responsible one here. In general, I feel like they’d get along well, still, considering Bruce is so enthusiastic about learning and bettering himself. However, I do feel like his erratic rat-nature would clash with Tim now and then.

Damian: Bruce’s first instinct after hearing he’s a father is to learn how to raise a baby, so he panically throws together a huge pile of Infant Care books from the library, Damian (10+) standing right next to him. That said, he’s very concerned about being a good father figure and raising Damian right. He loves the other boys, of course, but he never really saw himself as their father. This is a new situation for him and he doesn’t feel like he’s up for it. So now he tries to be a good influence, which results in him knocking on their doors at 1:30am all “remember not to drink coffee past midnight!” while holding a pitcher with Earl Grey.

Which brings me to the end note: Bruce is actually a great influence, he’s just not aware of it. He enforces healthy eating habits and a strict exercise routine. He’s got great posture and reminds his boys to sit/walk straight and stretch. He’s very cultured and studious in a very un-pretentious way, setting a great example for the boys.

But most importantly - he’s so true to himself in such an unapologetic way that everyone else feels free and encouraged to be themselves, too. While his eccentric behaviour could be interpreted as self-centred narcissism, he makes it extremely clear that he cares greatly about each and every one of them. He’s incredibly compassionate and they all know that he loves them dearly.

They all learn a lot from him when he’s not looking, and whenever he notices some little piece of evidence for just how much he’s influencing them, he turns into a mess, eating carrot sticks in the kitchen at 2am with big teary eyes while Alfred makes him tea. (Alfred is the real father figure, of course, but he’s insanely proud of Bruce for handling his responsibilities so well and doing so good with his flock of Robins)

I’m very, very soft. Bruce deserves the world. He loves his family a lot, even though he seems to take them for granted or forget about them at times. And they love him, too, although he’s a bit strange.

(So, to make it short: they DO have a great relationship. Just a tiny bit rocky at times, but I feel like this Bruce is less emotionally repressed and thus a lot of issues would fall flat? They know he cares)

#feral bruce hours #DC #im soft soft SOFT

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elareine · 5 years

Text

Misperceptions

Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd (side), Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Tags: Brotherly Bonding, Future Fic, 5+1 Things, Pining, Misunderstandings, Jealousy, Fluff, Guilt, Family AO3: /21199679 Companion to Reasons to be jealous.

Five times Dick was jealous of Tim and Jason’s relationship, and the one time he wasn’t.

One

Dick couldn’t tell you how he ended up here.

Jason didn’t even work with him all that often. They usually stuck to clearly demarcated lines in their cases. The last attempted homicide between them might’ve been a while back by now; that didn’t mean Dick was necessarily comfortable around him, and he refused to apologize for that.

This time, there had been no way to avoid cooperation. Considering everything, it had gone okay. Two human traffickers were behind bars that hadn’t been before, so Dick considered it a win. After the arrests, Jason had suggested a drink, and Dick, not wanting to reject him without reason, had taken him up on it. One or two beers, and then they’d head home.

One beer had turned into fruity cocktails had turned into tequila straight from the bottle. Maybe it was their competitive nature that wouldn’t allow them to back down when the other ordered something, maybe it was the stress of the past few days slash years, but Jason was basically spread all over the booth now, Dick comfortably nestled into the corner beside him, their shoulders touching as they passed the bottle back and forth.

“So, little wing, are you seeing anyone? Or is there a hot chick waiting for the Red Hood in every city by now?” he settled on. That was what a big brother was supposed to ask, right? Never mind that he had to look up at Jason as he said it. He’d never asked Damian that question—but that was a bad thought, and bad thoughts deserved tequila.

Dick took another sip.

“Nah.” Jason took the bottle from him and examined it critically. “Goddammit, Dick, are you trying to kill yourself? How much of this did you drink?”

He was one to talk, slurring as he was. Dick graciously overlooked that fact, insisting: “What do you mean, nah? There’s gotta be someone.”

“Well, yeah, Tim.”

Jason grimaced at his own words, though Dick wasn’t sure why. His head felt slow and fuzzy. “What does Tim have to do with this conversation?”

“I’m in love with him, dickhead.” Jason snorted. “Hah. Dickhead. That’s never not funny.”

Dick had heard that joke about a million times before; he was drunk enough to chuckle anyways.

“How long?” he asked when he’d calmed down. Kinda embarrassing, him not noticing his little brothers dating. Urgh. Phrasing it like that made it sound weird.

Jason shrugged. “Dunno. Years.”

Funny that he was so blasé about that. Dick had pegged him to be the type to remember anniversaries to the minute. Not like Tim really cared about that stuff, though, so it was probably fine.

Now that Dick thought about it, they were sweet to and about each other all the time. Fighting crime together counted as, like, a prime dating activity in vigilante circles. Dick remembered all the times Tim had mentioned he was grabbing breakfast or dinner with Jason.

And it made total sense. Tim was the main reason Jason had calmed down considerably in the killing department, and Jason had been loyal to Tim whatever happened, arguing his side every time, even with Damian. Dick didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before. They were so obviously a couple.

It was unfair, he thought mutinously. Jason and Tim had just seemed to click from the beginning. They were clearly made for each other.

“What the fuck are you talking about. Are you forgetting what I did when I first met him?”

Jason’s voice was both incredulous and ashamed, but Dick wasn’t paying any attention, his thoughts going down a path they had traveled, many times before. Only this time, he spoke them out loud. “You two are so… I just—I just want Damian to—”

And then, to his utter humiliation, Dick broke down in tears.

Fucking tequila.

He didn’t remember anything that happened after that. That was probably a blessing.

Two

Jason was in his late twenties now. It had been almost ten years since he’d returned to Gotham. Dick got drunk with him less than a week ago. Talking to him shouldn’t feel like making polite small talk with a stranger, but it did.

“Yeah, I tend to turn the heater up, too,” Jason was saying, sounding bored with himself. He’d been tapping away on his phone for most of the day. “Tim likes it a bit chilly, though, so I’m getting used to it.”

Dick didn’t take his eyes off the target as he sighed. If only the man would do anything more exciting than sit in an office all day. He mournfully remembered the Mafiosi of his youth, all of which would rather have been caught dead (and in many cases were) than sit in front of a computer all day.

Jason’s phone buzzed again. His brother didn’t even bother to apologize before grabbing it to reply.

“Tim?” Dick finally asked, more to start the conversation again than because he had any doubts.

Jason hummed in agreement. “He needs important mission intel.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “He’s bored at work, isn’t he?”

“So am I.”

“Oh, excuse me, is my company that terrible?” Call him a hypocrite, Dick still felt insulted.

“No, but trying not to talk about the elephant in the room is. You know. Our little tequila evening.”

…Dick had really hoped they could just keep ignoring that. Jesus Christ, go right for the sore spot, won’t you, Jason? Dick had never regretted the bluntness his family was famous for more than at this moment. Well, there had been that time Steph had described ‘pegging’ to Damian after he, being twelve, had asked why Dick was walking so funny after visiting his then-girlfriend… and the time Bruce had given him The Talk again after noticing he was interested in boys… and the time Babs had—okay, maybe this wasn’t even top five, because there had also been that time where—

Jason’s voice interrupted that thought process, which was probably for the best. “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Dick searched his face. Jason looked calm, open, a little bit hopeful—as if he was willing Dick to trust his word.

“Okay, cards on the table, I don’t actually remember what I told you,” Dick finally admitted. “So, uh, please describe the elephant to me.”

Jason hesitated. “Oh. I could forget about it, too, if you like.”

“No,” Dick decided, though he did consider it. Still, he was curious now. And surely it couldn’t be that bad? He couldn’t have been drunk enough to— He couldn’t have been. “Tell me.”

Jason’s phone buzzed. This time, he ignored it, still looking strangely hesitant. “You told me that you’re in love with Damian.”

Dick stopped breathing.

Literally; the ringing in his ears grew louder and louder until he felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “Dick. Dick! It’s fine. You’re fine. No one else knows.”

Dick took a gulp of breath, then another, forcing out: “Don’t tell him.” Then: “Don’t tell Bruce.”

“Never,” Jason promised. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Dick wasn’t so sure about that, but—what choice did he have? Weirdly enough, it was that thought that calmed him down. There was nothing he could change about it now. All that was left was running damage control.

At least Jason had waited until they were alone to bring it up and hadn’t told anyone else. That had to count for something, hadn’t it?

“I haven’t—I never told anyone.” He’d barely admitted it to himself.

“I know.” Jason’s smile was sheepish, but there. “You, uh, made me promise the same thing about fifteen times already.”

Dick groaned, embarrassment finally setting in. “God, I’m so sorry. Fucking tequila.”

“Tell me about it. My head hurt for a whole two days after.”

The target chose that moment to move, and they both moved into instant alert—but it was only to the bathroom. Once the man was typing away at his desk again, they relaxed, and Jason finally answered Tim’s texts.

Then he leaned back on his hands casually and peered at Dick. “So. Damian, huh?”

Dick seriously considered ignoring him, but—it might feel… nice. To talk about it with someone. Even if it was Jason.

“Yeah. I know you two don’t—” Dick gestured with clasped hands.

“Hey, no, Damian and I, we’re good,” Jason reassured him. “Tried to kill each other a few times, laid down some ground rules about how to not insult people the other person cares about, and voila, no assassination threats in months now.”

Something in Dick wanted to protest. Damian was so much more than threats of violence, always had been, and it annoyed Dick to no end that people still held his upbringing against him.

Then he realized how ridiculous he would sound saying that to Jason of all people, and instead settled on: “So you just don’t talk about Bruce and Tim at all?”

Jason shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Huh.” That sounded exhausting, but who was Dick to judge?

“Gotta say I’m a bit surprised, though. Didn’t think you’d go for him.”

Dick tensed, expecting any of the reasons he told himself at night—Damian was too young, too vulnerable, too much his brother—

Jason continued, grinning: “He’s not even a redhead.”

Dick threw his com at Jason’s head, but he was laughing.

Three

Dick unironically loved it whenever a group of bats gathered to work a case (or an Arkham breakout, as it might be.) Sure, there was a lot of bickering happening, but wasn’t that what family was about?

Honestly, it was even better without Bruce. Less tightly run, more fun. Seeing Damian in Bruce’s cowl instead was still weird, though. It wasn’t like Dick himself hadn’t donned it plenty of times. Hell, even Jason had done it once or twice, which had been one hell of a trip for everyone involved.

All of which was a good thing—Damian should have more than being Bruce’s mirror image. Dick was so proud of the way he’d grown into himself, had taken on his own vigilante identity.

However, it was a reminder that the child he had helped socialize, the Robin to his Batman, had, indeed, grown into a man. A man that didn’t smile often, to be sure; one that still liked to keep the world at bay, that trusted few, showed his heart to even fewer.

Something sharp dug into his side. “Earth to Nightwing, Earth to Nightwing.”

Dick started. Fuck. He’d been staring at Damian again, hadn’t he?

With a grateful smile, he elbowed Jason right back. “It’s called thinking, ever tried it?”

“Not your particular kind, no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I occasionally suspect there are fluffy clouds moving behind these eyes and nothing more.”

“Aww, Little Hoodling,” Dick sang, sliding his arm around Jason in a deceptively friendly move, “one day, you’ll be a real boy, too.” Then he moved—or tried to.

It was like trying to flip a car.

Dick tried again. Sure, there was little leverage like this, but he’d been able to flip Damian (who wasn’t that much lighter than Jason, and just as tall) the other day without much effort; why was this so much more difficult?

But Jason didn’t move. “Bit heavier than you remembered, Nightwing?”

Dick made a show of sticking out his lower lip to cover how startled he was. Had it really been that long since he’d been roughhousing with Jason? He could swear it had been a thousand times, but… apparently not.

Dick couldn’t regret getting away from Bruce back then. It had been necessary. But he was glad they now had a chance to move on as a family.

Okay, maybe some people would be a bit more worried about the dozens or so homicidal criminals heading their way disrupting any reconciliations. Dick never had been one of these people. Tim and Jason fought together like a well-oiled machine. As for him and Damian…

Well. They were the best, weren’t they?

Coming back to the cave, high on adrenaline and full of cravings for Alfred’s cookies, had always been one of the best parts of the job for Dick. Add in the all-too-rare opportunity to spend some quality time with Damian… the night, or morning, was looking up.

Jason, God bless him, headed right for the showers. Tim, however, lingered, looking ready to set up camp at his workstation.

“Why are you here and not in the shower?” Dick waved a hand in the direction Jason had disappeared to. It wasn’t meant to imply anything dirty, except it was.

“I need to write a mission report,” Tim protested, true to his little workaholic form. Dick would’ve expected that to lessen a bit now that he was getting some. Though now that he considered it, Jason was a workaholic, too.

“We can do that, right, little D?” Dick smiled at Damian, who grumbled but acquiesced. “Go ahead and have an early night, dude. You look beat.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Damian said, already sitting down and spreading maps on the table. Dick, not wanting to annoy him further when he’d basically forced Damian to stay for the rest of the night, made haste to join him.

When they’d gathered the full picture of the events of the night, he frowned. “What I can’t figure out is: Where did they get those supplies from? There does not seem to be a single origin point.”

“Hmm.” Damian was chewing on a pen again. It was adorable. “Flyover?”

“No planes detected.” Dick rechecked the flight radars.

“Plenty of people know how to hide from our equipment. You said it yourself: Someone paid a lot of money to stir up this much trouble.”

“We would’ve noticed the packages, though.”

Damian nodded, conceding the point. “Water?”

“The river is meant to be well-guarded…” Dick’s voice trailed off, and they both sighed at the same time.

“We should go over the guard postings; check for suspicious activity.”

Engrossed as he way with their discussion, Dick barely noticed Tim and Jason leaving, only calling a cursory ‘Take care!’ after them before Damian demanded his attention again. Eventually, they had to begin writing their reports, though, and Dick concentrated on his laptop to do so. The silence was comfortable, and time flew by.

Damian silently vanished at some point, returning some minutes later with a plate of cookies and two mugs full of steaming hot chocolate. It smelled heavenly.

Dick smiled up at him as he took the mug—his favorite superman one, he noted. “Thank you.”

Damian didn’t smile back, but there was a slant to his mouth that told Dick he was pleased. When the other sat down again, he did so right next to Dick on the bench, their thighs touching. “Show me the surveillance video again.”

“Of course.”

Dick was pretty sure Damian had it on his computer, but maybe not. Not like he was going to deny the opportunity to be this close to Damian. Bruce was away, after all. And even if he checked the surveillance footage from the cave, what was there to see? It wasn’t like he was doing anything untoward, Dick told himself. He just took a little more comfort from being close to Damian than he did when it was any of his other siblings, that was all.

Their heads were bent over the video for almost an hour; neither broke focus up until a new figure entered the cave.

“Morning, Duke.” Dick waved at the newcomer.

“Hi, guys. How was the breakout?”

“Fine. We handled it.” Damian seemed annoyed. Dick didn’t know why; he’d been fine until just now, and he and Duke usually got along well in their own way.

Duke seemed unfazed, merely looking around. “Where’re the reds?”

“They’re fine,” Dick reassured him. “Just headed out already.”

“Let me guess.” Duke’s voice was dry. “They’re feeding each other waffles.”

“I think it’s pancakes today.” Damian matched him in tone, and Dick chuckled.

“Let them have some fun, eh? At least Tim gets fed this way.”

“Too. Much. Flirting.” Duke shook his head and moved to the back of the cave, presumably getting ready for his shift.

When Dick looked up, Damian was staring at him in a way Dick had never seen before. He felt himself flush, wanted to ask—but Duke returned with his uniform and a question about the new batarangs, Damian looked away, and the moment passed.

Four

“If he’s coming to Wayne functions now, we might as well make Jason officially a part of the family again.”

Dick did his best to smile at Tim reassuringly, unsure if this was Tim’s way of floating the idea of Jason being reintroduced to the public as his boyfriend. Playing it safe, he pointed out: “Bruce doesn’t know how to ask, and he thinks Jason will say no.”

“He might not.”

Of course he wouldn’t, not if Tim asked him to. Jason was so whipped. Dick wasn’t kidding himself: If Tim hadn’t been complaining for weeks about having to attend this event, Jason wouldn’t be here. He was even making nice with some socialites to give Tim a break, for God’sGod’s sake.

Dick let his gaze wander over to where he’d last spotted Jason and flinched when he saw that Damian had joined him.

Their youngest had been late; out on a call as Flamebird. Dick was sure it had been important and all that, but he didn’t think it warranted him being deprived of this sight for so long.

If Dick liked seeing him in the batsuit, Damian in formal wear was… The dramatic lines of Damian’s suit, a close approximation of the styles his maternal family favored, made him look like royalty.

The people around him seemed to think so, too. There was a woman at Damian’s elbow, laughing and touching his shoulder whenever he spoke. The man across from him couldn’t tear his gaze away, either, visibly undressing Damian in his mind.

Dick kind of wanted to punch him. Or better, yet: Go over and show them that Damian was supposed to be his, mark him and dishevel him and have him look at no one else; let him do the same to show that Dick belonged to Damian in return.

His hands went to his own throat without any conscious input, pressing into bruises that weren’t there. For cover, he loosened his tie, clearing his throat as if to force himself to breathe normally.

When he dragged his thoughts back to his own conversation, he saw that Tim, too, was staring at the group with hunger in his face. For a second, he felt an unexpected kinship with his brother, the urge to share what was plaguing him growing strong—but no.

He just couldn’t.

“Well, you would know better than anyone else,” he absently pointed out the obvious instead.

“I know that if he keeps throwing Damian to the wolves like that, he won’t live long enough to answer Bruce.”

Dick laughed. “Aww, you know Damian only means his death threats 30% of the time these days. Still, I’ll go rescue him. Coming?”

Tim waved him off, and as Dick advanced on the group, he noticed Jason peeling off. Well, about time. Jason had left Tim’s side for a whole twenty minutes already, surely a new record. Dick had no idea how those two thought they were being subtle.

Even before he began to speak, he felt Damian looking at him.

All attention was welcome to Dick, but being the focus of Damian’s… It was like no one else existed to him but Dick, and Dick craved that feeling more than anything in the world. Damian, he knew, judged everything and everyone. Being regarded like that and still found worthy was headier than any wine.

Buoyed by the feeling, he turned his best smile at the group: “Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen, but I need to steal Damian away from you for a few minutes. Our host has been asking for him.”

Damian nodded gravely, turning to leave immediately. There was a fleeting touch to Dick’s elbow that spoke of thanks for extracting him from the situation.

He himself stayed for some minutes before making his own excuses, vaguely ambling back towards the buffet. It never hurt to look drunker than any of them would allow themselves to be at this kind of event.

The sound of laughter drew his eyes to the dance floor.

Jason and Tim were dancing. If Dick tilted his head at a thirty-two-degree angle and squinted just so, he could call it a quickstep. They looked ridiculous; two very-grown men, twirling each other like they were delicate princesses and giggling the entire time.

And yet.

There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He’s never been someone to hide his love. If Damian were his, he’d want to proclaim it openly and proudly, just like Jason and Tim were doing now.

They never could. Even if, by some miracle, Damian returned his feelings, they were siblings in the eyes of the world. There was no coming back from that.

“They’re making a spectacle of themselves.”

Dick shivered. He hadn’t noticed Damian coming up behind him. Now the warmth against his back and Damian’s low whisper against his ear were unmistakable.

Damian had grown so tall, almost towering over Dick; tall enough that he could rest his chin on the top of Dick’s head, and for one long moment Dick thought he might do precisely that, pull Dick into him by the hips and envelop him so fully—

But Damian cleared his throat and stepped back. Dick swayed on his feet, shame and arousal burning in his stomach in equal measure.

Immediately, Damian’s hand was on his elbow, steadying him with care most would not suspect him capable of. Dick leaned into it gratefully before he knew what he was doing.

Christ. He needed to get out of there.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m not feeling so well,” Dick blurted out, immediately wincing at how obvious a lie it was.

Incredibly, though, Damian let him get away with it. He merely looked over to Jason and Tim, and nodded as if he understood; though what it was he understood, Dick didn’t know. “Do you require assistance? I will call Pennyworth, let him know you are coming.”

Great, and now Dick felt terrible for making Damian worry.

“No, it’s fine.” He smiled, hoping it was convincing. “I just need to get some rest, I think.”

“Take the night off,” Damian ordered. “We will cover for you at the office.”

There was nothing for Dick to do but agree. Maybe a night off would help him get his shit together. Ever since he confided in Jason and found out about his relationship with Tim, his mood had gotten worse. A good night of sleep could only improve things.

Impossible as it was, he felt Damian’s gaze on him all the way home.

Five

“Damian is back,” Tim told them through the coms. “Everything is set up for tomorrow.”

“Alright. Get some sleep, babybird.”

Jason’s voice was so soft. Something in Dick ached, listening to it.

That was the one good thing to come out of this mess: being privileged to see this side of Jason. Dick had to admit to himself that he hadn’t let himself see it before.

Still, he wouldn’t be Jason’s older brother if he didn’t tease him: “Getting all sappy on me, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

The genuine confusion on Jason’s face was hilarious. “Babybird.”

“Oh, that.” Jason tried to shrug it off. “Just a nickname.”

“You’re so sweet.”

Jason grumbled to himself. “Watch yourself, or next time I’ll let you act the loving couple with Damian.”

Images rose unbidden in Dick’s mind. Damian smiling down at him, pulling him into his arms at the reception, pressing a kiss into his neck… And then later, Damian shirtless, looming over Dick, caging him in, looking for all the world as if he wanted to devour him…

Dick swallowed. Maybe Jason had a point.

They got ready for bed in comfortable silence. At least it wasn’t awkward being half-naked around the other anymore. Dick was pretty sure there was a gun taped underneath Jason’s nightstand, but at least he was polite enough to hide it.

They slid under the covers, though neither of them turned off the string of fairy lights that were probably supposed to add to the romantic atmosphere. As it was, lovers staying up all night was exactly the image they wanted to create, so it served their purpose.

Still neither of them slept, too alert to their surroundings. Dick was content to just lie here, maybe doze off a bit, until morning came.

Then Jason inhaled and rolled over to his side. “No, you know what, I’m gonna ask. Why are you not hitting on the brat again?”

Dumbfounded, Dick sputtered: “Because—reasons!”

“What reasons?”

Jason sounded genuinely curious, and it felt like the kind of thing you shared with your brother, or maybe, a friend. The thought lifted Dick up enough to finally voice the thoughts in his head every night.

“He’s a lot younger than me.”

“Always knew you would turn into a cougar,” Jason teased, but there was nothing mean about it. “Seriously, Damian knows his own mind. He’s not underage, or even close to it. Somehow I don’t think you were attracted to him when he was a teen.”

Dick thought of Damian as a particularly gangly teenager and grimaced. “No.”

“Let me guess—realized one day that he’s a man now and boom, there were all these feelings?”

Dick smiled at him. “Was it like that for you and Tim?”

“Not really. I always saw him as an equal, even when I shouldn’t have,” Jason admitted.

Dick sometimes forgot that Jason was only four years older than Tim. When he’d come back from the dead, he’d been a grown man to Dick (and, he suspected, Bruce,) not a nineteen-year-old. Trying to kill everyone and start a criminal empire did that to you.

“You both got over that, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we did.” Was that a blush spreading over Jason’s cheeks?

It was funny. For all that he was encouraging Dick to open up to him, Jason didn’t seem all that used to talking about his own feelings.

“Anyway,” Jason deflected, “I know you fucked people much older than you, so that’s not the only reason. Neither are the murderous in-laws, though they frankly should be. So what’s holding you back?”

“He’s my brother. I know Bruce wanted me to be his brother.”

Jason considered the point. “Are you actually morally concerned, or is it mostly about not wanting to fail in Bruce’s eyes?”

“The latter,” Dick admitted. It was difficult to explain. He considered both Jason and Tim his brothers, yet ne he wasn’t bothered by them dating at all. With Damian, there was a strong feeling of loyalty, similar to that of a family member, but the love itself had changed. And theirs was a peculiar family, anyway. Roy had often joked that dating another vigilante was a little incestuous because of how small a group they were. Maybe it was no wonder that shit was all getting mixed up in his head.

So that was… fine. Weird, but fine. Dick could rationalize that to himself. But failing Bruce? Even after all these years, all those arguments, the thought still made him physically recoil.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but: There’s nothing you could do that would make that man love you any less.”

And Dick could see that hurt to admit, the ‘unlike me’ unspoken but present, so he joked weakly: “Oh, please, we all know Duke’s his favorite.”

Jason looked grateful, but he persisted: “I mean it, though. Why do you regard Damian as more Bruce’s son than the rest of you? Don’t tell me it’s the blood thing, because we both know that’s utter bullshit.”

Dick didn’t have an answer for that.

“You know there’s an easy way to settle this, right?” Jason asks when Dick didn’t speak. Throwing the blanket off, he got up and rooted through his suitcase. Dick watched as he pulled out his laptop and declared: “We’ll just call Bruce.”

Dick sat up in alarm. “You’re going to bother Bruce in the middle of a JL mission to ask about—this?”

Jason shrugged, though he couldn’t fool Dick. His neck muscles were tense. “Damian’s gonna kill me tomorrow anyway; I have nothing to lose.”

“Why would Damian kill you?” Dick felt very lost.

“No reason, Dickiebird, no reason.”

Dick decided to ignore that, and Jason’s amused tone, to focus on the important thing here. “We can’t call Bruce. He’s on another planet, and anyway, there’s no need—”

“Look, you want me to talk to him? I could ask him.”

Dick couldn’t think of a single less subtle thing for them to do. Bruce would know Dick was listening right away, and if not, as soon as he checked their mission log when he returned.

Maybe that was Jason’s point, though. Was he really going to keep hiding this?

Dick took a deep breath. “I’ll call.”

When Jason slid the laptop over to him, he looked almost proud.

It seemed like ages until the connection was set up. Finally, Batman’s familiar cowl appeared on the screen.

“Nightwing,” Bruce’s voice was crackly with static, but the concern was audible. “What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” Dick reassured him. “I hope. Just. Do you have a sec?”

Bruce looked torn. Dick saw Jason twitch and guessed he was tempted to interfere, to tell Bruce this was important. Pity that neither of them could be sure if that would help or hinder.

In the end, Bruce nodded.

It was, perhaps, a good thing Bruce seemed to be pressed for time. There was no way for Dick to prevaricate; he had to come straight out with it: “I think I’m in love with Damian.”

And then he held his breath as he waited for Bruce to lecture him.

Bruce didn’t miss a beat. “I trust you and have no reason to doubt your choice in partners. I trust Damian to know what he wants, too. Please don’t hold back on my account.” He paused. “Just… don’t tell me any details.”

It was a terrible joke, but Dick laughed nonetheless.

He couldn’t be sure, but there was a sound in the background that sounded like an explosion. Bruce looked away from the screen for a moment. “I have to go. Be safe.”

“Thank you,” Dick told him, sincerely.

Bruce shook his head. “Not for that.” The connection closed.

The room was quiet as Dick tried to digest the fact that one of his top ten fears (after, you know, everyone dying) had been laid to rest in the span of five minutes, just like that. What did you even say?

“That went better than expected,” he finally settled on. “Thank you.”

Jason shrugged. “Yeah, look, there are a few trauma points he can’t deal with it—” he pointed at himself, then shaped a gun with his fingers, “but he’s a detective. He knew and had plenty of time to chew it over. That speech was practiced to hell and back. You probably just released him from the misery of wondering how the fuck to bring it up with you.”

Dick chuckled. If it sounded a bit wet still, neither of them mentioned it.

“Also—I like the kid, I do,” Jason said, “but we’re all glad if he doesn’t end up with a civilian.”

It felt different, seeing Damian now that Dick was allowing himself to hope, to want. He had no idea if Damian would even be receptive, had never allowed himself to consider the notion before. When they all met in the cave after the mission had ended, Dick let himself smile at Damian openly, full of delight at being able to do so without wondering what would be caught on camera.

Damian didn’t smile back. He grabbed Dick by the arm, scowling, and told him: “We’re leaving.”

“What about the—” Jason began to ask, but Damian was already dragging Dick away.

Resistance seemed futile. He shot an apologetic glance at Jason, who waved him off, looking way too amused.

It was only when they were alone that Damian let go of Dick, glaring daggers at him and the world, but not speaking. Dick patiently waited him out. Damian would tell him what was eating him, or he wouldn’t. No prodding in the world would speed up the process.

“Why Todd,” Damian finally demanded to know.

Dick frowned. Apparently, Jason’s statement about him and Damian getting along hadn’t been truthful. Well, after all that Jason had done for him last night, and the weeks before that, he wasn’t going to just let Damian question his place. “He has proven himself an able and trustworthy partner on these missions.”

“I’m not talking about the mission,” Damian hissed.

“Then what—”

But now that he had begun, Damian wouldn’t stop talking. “I don’t understand. You were looking at me, and I thought maybe—finally—but then there was Todd, and I don’t want you to be in love with him. He’s going hurt you. What does he have that I don’t? Tell me and I will change it.”

Oh. Oh.

“Damian,” Dick couldn’t help but smile as he reached out to touch Damian’s arm, “I’m not in love with Jason. He’s with Tim.”

Dick hadn’t realized how tense Damian had been until that tension left him to be replaced with hope: “You’re not in love with Todd?”

“I’m not.”

Damian’s other hand rose to cover Dick’s. “Then—”

“Yes.” Dick knew his feelings must have been written all over his face. He didn’t care. “Yes.”

Damian made a sound like a sob and bend down to kiss him.

Dick’s plan: Test the waters. See if Damian was interested at all. Maybe start some slow romancing if there was hope.

Dick’s reality: He was swept away by the force of Damian’s kiss. It was unpracticed, to be sure, but there could be no doubts about the feelings behind it. Damian’s hand on his cheek spoke of devotion, his teeth on Dick’s lip of passion, and his eyes were on Dick’s the whole time, never once looking away.

It was being devoured, and Dick loved it.

And One Time He Wasn’t

Unsurprisingly, Dick didn’t get to do much work that day. Or the next. When they finally emerged from their rooms to debrief with Tim and Jason, he was feeling stiff and bruised in the best of ways. To his surprise, Damian pulled him close as they walked, his hand heavy on Dick’s hip. Dick melted into him, pulling him close in turn.

Now that he had it, Dick didn’t know how he could have denied the two of them this feeling for so long.

Thus tightly wound, they entered the cave—and stopped. It took a second for the image to sink in: Jason was sitting in Tim’s lap, their fingers linked in front of his stomach.

Like so many things with those two, it should’ve been funny—Tim was by no means tiny, but he was considerably smaller than Jason. Instead, it looked right.

Jason grinned at him. “So. We’re together now.”

Dick, still high on the events of the last day, said: “Oh, how nice.” Then: “Wait, you weren’t before?”

Tim groaned and hid his face in Jason’s back, only the red of his ears still visible. Jason, however, didn’t look embarrassed at all, just distinctly unimpressed. “Dick. Are you telling me these two geniuses thought the two of us were dating, while you thought I was already dating Tim?”

Dick blinked. “Tim thought that too?”

“That’s it,” Jason said, “I’m revoking your detective licenses. All of you.”

#elareine writes #damidick #jaytim #all credit for jason sitting in tim's lap goes to scott who comes up with the best things

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dottie-wan-kenobi · 4 years

Note

hi !! uhm so i just saw your lil bingo card thing on Ao3 and i wanted to know if you would write the panic attack on ab Duke and Jason (Duke being the one to have it) thanks in advance love 💕

Here you are! Thank you right back for the prompt, and I hope you like it

Written for the @badthingshappenbingo square “Panic Attack”. X’s are finished, asterisks are requested, and the rest are free!!

---

Duke takes a bite of his ice cream, settling back into his seat. Ever since he first got officially fostered by Bruce, it’s been difficult to go out without the paparazzi hounding after him. He hasn’t been able to come back here, his favorite ice cream place, in months and he’s missed it more than he thought he would. Smiling happily, he scoops another bite off the top. He can’t help but hum at the taste of the fudge topping. He never could afford it before, and though he doesn’t love using Bruce’s money, why not take advantage here? It’s just fudge.

Jason sits across from him, licking absently at his ice cream cone. He’d offered to bring Duke out, saying, “If we’re brothers now, I should probably get to know you, don’t you think?”

And, well. Yeah. The good thing about Jason? He’s still legally dead, meaning that, other than a few paparazzi who are always trying to get pictures of him, there’s a lot less attention on them. Also, when Duke said, “Wanna get ice cream?”, Jason said, “Hell yeah.”

Usually when Duke asks that, it’s to Damian, who has lots of feelings about dairy products.

Anyway, it’s nice to just sit and chill. Jason doesn’t force conversation, but he listens when Duke speaks, and it’s really all he can ask for. (Something they don’t tell you about being brought into a big family? The daily fights for attention. Duke is still learning how to win.)

“How’s yours?” Duke asks, eyeing the Rocky Road Jason had ordered. He’s never had it before, but according to Cass, it’s a family favorite, so he’s curious.

Jason tunes back in, shrugging. “Pretty good. This place is way better than the kind we usually get. How’d you find it?”

“Grew up three streets over. We’d come here every weekend we could afford it.”

“Nice,” Jason says, and he sounds sincere. “You always get that monstrosity, or is it new?”

Grinning, he exclaims, “Hey, tutti frutti isn’t a monstrosity!”

“It’s healthy ice cream. Such a thing shouldn’t exist,” Jason replies seriously. “It’s a freak of nature.”

“Is not,” Duke says. After a quick bite, he continues, “And to answer your question, yes, I always got this here. No one else does it as good as they do.”

“I bet Alfie could.”

“Oh, don’t bring him into this!” Duke laughs.

Smirking, Jason asks, “Scared to talk shit about his food?”

“Hell no! I just. I don’t want to compare that and this.” He doesn’t want to say why—that while Alfred’s food is delicious, this ice cream is more special than any the butler could ever make. This ice cream has good memories of his parents attached to it, and he’s holding onto as many of those as he can. “They’re just—different.”

Jason doesn’t respond for a second, just looks at him. Then he licks at where it’s dripping down his fingers. “I get it. I love his noodles, but nothing can beat box mac and cheese. Me and my mom used to eat that all the time.”

Unsure if he’s allowed to ask—or if he even wants to, knowing from the others that Jason’s mom isn’t someone they’re supposed to talk about—Duke says, “Man, I’m glad you’re around. The others just don’t get it. Gourmet shit is good, but like, yeah, nothing beats Kraft.”

“You should talk to Steph,” Jason says, reaching his free hand out for a fist bump. “She argues with Tim and Dick about stuff like this all the time.”

Duke returns the fist bump, feeling like he’s the coolest kid on the block. Okay, that’s cheesy as hell, but whatever. It’s nice to be around Jason, who’s his cool older brother. Foster brother. Whatever.

Before he can reply, the worker behind the counter turns up the TV in the corner loud enough everyone in the shop can hear it. Where they’re sitting, they have to half-turn to see it properly.

On the screen, one of the local news people is giving a report on the latest Joker toxin incident. It was a few days ago now, and Duke thankfully hadn’t had to help with containing it.

“The last of the antidotes have been administered,” the news person says. “Other than the three deaths which occurred soon after the victims were brought to the hospital, no other deaths are being reported. GCPD is still recommending wearing face masks in the area….”

And okay, maybe there’s a reason Duke didn’t help out with it. It took place right around dusk, when Duke was heading home and the others were coming out. He’d been around when it happened, much closer than the rest. The crazed laughter that had filled the street has been plaguing his dreams the past few nights.

Bruce says Duke shouldn’t force himself to face the Joker. He says it could just make everything worse, and Duke knows now that he was right.

Seeing the accompanying videos to go along with the report, Duke is thrown right back to being a child. To watching his parents get infected, worse than those people were, and hearing as they laughed. His mom’s laugh was loud and she snorted all the time. His dad’s was wheezy and low pitched. Except, that day they were totally different, like something out of his worst nightmares. Maniacal and dangerous and empty.

“Duke?” Jason asks, but Duke hardly hears him. He’s tuned out, the background noise from the shop being replaced by the sound of his heart beating in his ears.The day before he lost his parents, they came here. Mom got cookies and creme, Dad got strawberry, and Duke got tutti frutti. They sat in a booth, and Duke kicked his heels against the seat, too short to reach the ground. Dad got ice cream on his nose, and Mom laughed and she took a picture.

The next day, they were gone. Not dead, he doesn’t think, doesn’t know, but gone. Never to be seen again. Because of that goddamn clown.

Someone takes the cup of ice cream out of his hand, and he hears Jason say, “You’re gonna make a huge mess, so let’s just put that down, okay?”

His chest hurts. He wonders what was going through his parents’ heads when they descended to the sewers, high and insane. Were they scared? Did they think they were going to die? Did they think about him?

“He’s fine, just back off,” Jason says, somewhere, and Duke ducks his head, trying to breathe. Why is it so hard to breathe? It was easy a few moments ago. Minutes? He doesn’t know.

There’s a hand on his back and on his chest, and they force him to sit up straight. His arm gets tucked against a chest, and he can feel it moving up and down. Then Jason says, “Come on, breathe with me, okay? You got this, man. Just do it with me.”

It takes ages, he thinks, to come down. To come back to earth, to his favorite ice cream place, where people are looking at him. Jason is next to him, stooped really low in a position that must kill his ankles, but he doesn’t complain.

Searching Duke’s eyes, he asks, “You good?”

That’s another unofficial rule around the family—no one ever asks that unless it’s serious. Unless they expect an honest answer and won’t take any bullshit. But he doesn’t want to say anything here, not when he can see the camera phones pointed their way. Being spotted is already inconvenient at the best of times, which this definitely isn’t.

Jason seems to understand. He stands up straight, sighing in relief. His ice cream is gone, and Duke doesn’t ask. Just stands with him and grabs his own cup, wanting to get the hell out.

He shouldn’t have come. He should’ve known better. It’s too close to the anniversary, too hot off the heels of the last incident. It’s been so long, he could’ve waited. He should’ve waited.

Jason pulls him outside, leading them right for the car he borrowed from Bruce. They don’t speak as they get in, Jason in the driver’s seat.

“You’re not gonna ask?” Duke says after a few minutes, feeling like he’s going to throw up, either from the attack or the anticipation.

“None of my business,” Jason replies, shooting him a kind look. “If you wanna talk, you can. But it doesn’t seem like you do.”

“I don’t.” And he doesn’t. He wants to go back to his room in the Manor and he wants to pretend this never happened. Wants to ignore the headlines and the concerned looks from everyone. But—”Uh. Thanks. For being cool, I mean.”

Duke winces at how he sounds, wondering if Jason will think he’s some stupid kid now. He doesn’t think he’ll be surprised if that’s the case.

Jason shrugs, reaching out a second later to give a friendly punch to Duke’s shoulder. “That’s what Robins for, you know? Being cool.”

Duke blinks. And then he laughs, and it feels good, cleansing. “Hell yeah.”

#badthingshappenbingo #duke thomas #jason todd #the signal #red hood #batfam #batfamily #my writing #asks #Anonymous

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Describing Stuff

I’ve had this rattling around in my brain for a while, and I’ve got the day off and I’m trying to get used to this ergonomic keyboard I bought, so I figure I’ll write about this for a while.

Recently, I’ve been seeing more examples of really terrible writing where a male author describes a female character, and they seem to go out of their way to make it awkward and creepy and weird. I don’t really feel like quoting any excerpts here, but you can find all sorts of examples on Twitter @men_write_women .

I feel like the common thread with all the ones I’ve seen is this compulsion to describe a woman in exhausting detail. It always seems to boil down to how sexy the woman is, and why exactly she’s sexy, or what flaws she has that disqualify her from being sexy. It’s sexist, because the emphasis is on the character as a sex fantasy for the author, and presumably the reader. If the character has any other purpose in the story, it’s going to be undermined by a 500-word treatise on what her boobs look like. It also insults and dismisses a sizable portion of the audience that, you know, may not be that into boobs.

Writing is about setting priorities. People talk about unlimited creative freedom and building entire universes at the point of their humble quills, and that’s horseshit. Writing is all about deciding which parts of your daydream to keep and which to leave out. You can’t capture every tiny detail of a character, or and object, or a scene. Even if you could, it would take too long to document it all, and the reality is that the reader’s not going to parse that much information anyway. So you have to decide which parts are important and which ones aren’t. And if you blow 1,000 words trying to explain why breasts are cool, you’re sending a message to the reader about what your priorities are. The message is: “I’m horny right now, and my libido is more important to me than this character or your enjoyment of the story.” I don’t think that’s the message authors want to send.

There’s also probably some ego bound up in this. Every excerpt I see on @men_write_women seems to be completely unaware of any of the others. It’s like each writer has deluded himself into thinking he’s the first person to try to describe sexy ladies in print. That, or they think it’s been done before, but never quite right. I sense such an enthusiasm whenever I read these things, like the author is going to pull out all the stops and come up with this literary salute to badonkadonk. And it always ends up looking absurd, because they overthink it. How can they not overthink it? They're trying to come up with an extra-special description of something people see all the time. I’m pretty sure that’s how the word “badonkadonk” was invented, because no existing words were sufficient.

I’m going to talk about professional wrestling here in a minute, but first, let’s class the joint up by looking at the poem “Trees” by Alfred Joyce Kilmer.

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.

It’s that last line that made me think of the poem just now, because Kilmer recognized that he could never hope to recreate the beauty of a tree in mere words. At best, he could only string together a few lines to remind people of how nice trees look, which is an achievement in itself, but it’s never going to be as good as the real thing. If poems about trees can be beautiful, then how much more beautiful a poem is the tree itself?

But look at all the stuff he leaves out. He doesn’t mention the trunk at all, or the rough texture of the bark, or the way the leaves turn color in the fall. That’s because Kilmer wasn’t writing a monograph about the appearance of a tree for space aliens who’ve never seen one. He was making the assumption that his readers were already familiar with trees and referencing imagery they might have seen before.

I think the same trick can be applied to women (or any humans for that matter), since readers can be trusted to know what they look like. I also think it’s safe to assume that the inherent beauty of humans is comparable to that of trees, so a quick, simple description can be plenty.

That’s kind of my approach to this sort of thing. I’ve always struggled with describing things in stories, mainly because I would see these lengthy, detailed descriptions in books, and I thought I was supposed to imitate that and couldn’t really pull it off. But eventually I realized that I didn’t need to, and maybe I’m better off if I don’t even try. One of the stories that clinched this for me was “Gold” by Isaac Asimov. The main character is contracted to make a movie adaptation out of a book, which happens to resemble another Asimov story, The Gods Themselves. The problem is that the aliens in the book are sparingly described, so the guy has no idea where to begin. Through the author character, Asimov defends his own writing style, opting to keep things fairly abstract, and relying on the reader to fill in the gaps.

I could relate to this, because when I read Les Miserables in high school, I couldn’t get past Jean Valjean’s name, because it reminded me of Jean Paul-Valley, the DC Comics character who filled in as Batman while Bruce Wayne was injured in 1993-1994. Try as I might, I could not shake the image of Valjean trudging through the novel in an armored Batman costume. So eventually I stopped trying, and ran with it. I have no idea what Valjean was supposed to have looked like. Victor Hugo might have described him, but I only ever imagined a young man with long blond hair and glasses. Wearing an armored Batman costume.

I’m not sure exactly when I put it all together, but eventually I realized that it’s all theater of the mind, and ultimately the reader is going to imagine whatever the reader wants, regardless of what you put on the page. If you say this guy wore blue and the reader likes red better, they’ll just start imagining it’s red. They may know factually that it’s blue, but you can’t stop them from making that switch. Now, knowing that, doesn’t it seem a bit futile to describe exactly what shade of blue it is? You can pontificate about the profundity of the color blue, and how the guy’s shirt was the color of the ocean on a blustery afternoon off the shore of Maine, but your reader is like “Nah, mate, I like red better”, then you’re probably wasting words.

I’m not saying it’s pointless to specify details. If a reader was completely unwilling to cooperate with your story, then they’re probably not reading it in the first place. But I think writers need to make peace with the fact that readers are looking for cues and stage directions for their imaginations, not immutable details. That’s why it’s so important to prioritize. Take the most important details and get them out there up front, when the reader is most receptive to them. Boob size is not important. If boob size is one of the top three details for your character, then you either haven’t finished creating the character, or you probably don’t actually have any use for the character.

Just to demonstrate what I mean, I’m going to try to write a description of AEW referee Aubrey Edwards, as if she were a fictional character in a story. I wasn’t sure what to use for an example, but I watched All Out Saturday and she officiated the main event, so I decided to go with her. That’s her on the left, but I probably didn’t need to tell you that, since I think we all know how to spot a referee.

Now, first and foremost, if I were writing a story about a wrestling match, I probably wouldn’t bother mentioning the referee much at all. Their whole role in these events is to be as inconspicuous as possible. They just enforce the rules; it’s the wrestlers who are supposed to be the main attraction. I’d probably just keep it simple.

“The referee was a woman, but Dirk Hardcastle paid little mind to her. His main concern lay in the competitors, and which of them, if either was his archnemesis, Tad Plowshare, in disguise.”

Or I might not even go that far, and just use “she/her” pronouns whenever the referee is mentioned. I want the reader to think about where Tad Plowshare is, not the referee.

Of course, if the big twist is that the ref is important, then I have to go into a little more detail, because now she’s in the spotlight.

“It couldn’t be. Dirk knew it had to be true from the way she looked directly at him and smiled deviously. He would recognize that sinister grin on a thousand different faces. But he had already ruled out the officials and production staff as suspects. He had been so certain of this that he had ignored the referee completely, but she was definitely the one. And now that it was too late, Tad Plowshare dropped the act entirely. She pulled off the tie that held her brunette ponytail in place, and removed the black nitrile gloves from her hands. Only moments ago, her expressions and movements had been those of a consummate professional, focused entirely upon adjudicating the match. Her bright red lipstick had been the only sign that she had any sort of personal life outside of her work. Now, as she laughed in triumph, the red on her lips only reminded Hardcastle of the blood of thousands of innocents, which would soon be spilled as a consequence of his failure.”

Maybe I’m laying this on too thick, but the core things I’m trying to convey about Edwards are her no-nonsense attitude, the way she wears her hair in a ponytail, and the red lipstick she wears, which seems to contradict her serious demeanor. I wouldn’t even bother describing her referee uniform, because everyone has a general idea of what those look like. The other night, I found it kind of odd how the stripes on AEW’s refs look wider than what I’m used to seeing, but a lot of wrestling refs don’t even wear stripes at all, so it really doesn’t matter a lot. I’d probably only bring it up if there was a need to mention variations in uniform. Like if she was officiating water polo instead.

What I don’t need to spend a lot of time on is her figure. I don’t see much point in talking about how fat or thin she is unless I plan to have her crawl through a ventilation shaft, and then I could just confine it to “She fit”. And that doesn’t tell you anything because you don’t know how big the ductwork is.

Physical attractiveness is something I try to shy away from, because I figure that’s a subjective thing, and I don’t see much point in trying to cram my own standards down anyone’s throat. I don’t think it does much good to just declare that such-and-such character is attractive; it’s better to have another character do it instead, and that way it says something about both characters. This one finds the other one to be hot. If I want examples of what they find so hot in the other character, I’ll try to keep it vague. “Well, Dirk Hardcastle has a cute chin. What’s cute about it? Who knows? Who cares? The character who’s admiring his chin, that’s who. But why should it need to be explained in greater depth than that.

The handy thing about this approach is that it leaves large swaths of Dirk’s body open to interpretation. He could look like a troll doll and still have a “cute chin”. He could have chest hair or not, be chubby or skinny, and so forth. So if you want to join in the notion that he’s attractive, you can rule in your own type, whatever that is.

I don’t know if that’s making any sense, but that’s how I try to approach it. When I read these long things about knife-like boobs or gentle slopes of buttcracks or whatever, it annoys me because it feels like whoever wrote that was losing a game they never should have bothered trying to play. All they needed to do was have the character who’s looking at this woman be like “Wow, this is the hottest lady I’ve ever seen” or something like that, describe whatever sexy dress she’s got on (briefly), and you’re done. And only do that when you need to. Dirk Hardcastle doesn’t have time to size up all the ladies, not while that bastard Tad Plowshare’s running loose.

#/#//#///#////#/////#writing

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reallyautomaticvoid · 5 years

Text

Calling It: Good Intentions

Chapter 1: Calling It: The Beginning

Characters (in order of appearance): Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Conner Kent, Tam Fox, Bruce Wayne, Ra’s al Ghul

Summary:

Timothy Jackson Drake has been Red Robin for nearly three years now. Ever since he was summarily kicked out of the Batfam (no matter what anyone in the Batfamily said), he’s been taking care of himself. He has his own back and doesn’t need anybody else help, no matter what the Titans may say (and they have a lot to say on the matter). He doesn’t need a safety net when he flies.

Note:

This was inspired by @iphoenixrising beautiful piece, Fractured, which everyone should read because, frankly, it’s incredible. I would also like to thank them for all of the help they gave me when I was starting to write this piece. Seriously, they're a wonderful person who deserves all the lovely thing in their life.

Serene and Gotham do not go together. It was almost peaceful so long as you ignore the racket of car alarms and traffic. It was excellent for Gotham. Anytime there was peace (and Gotham was not on the verge of an alien invasion) was a blessing.

Something to celebrate.

A reason to be happy.

Drumming his thumbs on the concrete roof under him, Red Robin waits in the chill. There was always, always something to do in Gotham. Punching Two-Face in the face? Great. Foiling the latest Joker scheme? Fantastic. Catching Ivy before she releases the latest version of her plant toxin? All in a days work. Hell, usually there were muggers throughout Crime Alley that Red could punch.

Quiet nights, like tonight, grants a sense of false hope. Like Gotham could do this every day. That maybe Gotham could be like any other city.

It couldn’t be.

Red Robin knew that.

The worst part wasn't the boredom (which, don't get him wrong, was fucking awful. Shit, he'd almost welcome a Ra's attack, but that wasn't due until later this week), no it was the stealthy asshat sneaking his way over to Red because, clearly, Tim couldn't see him coming.

“Hood.” Red's thumbs accelerate their drumming.

“Damn, Red, and here I was tryin' ta be sneaky.” Red Hood sinks onto the roof next to Red Robin. Red could see Hood surveying him.

"Next time, leave the steel-toed boots at home then."

Jason snorts. "Ya need a hair cut."

Red ignores Jason. “You know it’s immensely stupid to sneak up on somebody in Gotham, right?”

“Whada ya going do? Shoot me? I'd love to see you try, Babybird.”

Red scoffs as his thumbs continue to play their beat, “oh yeah, I’m the one with a history of shooting people.”

“One time.”

“Three times.”

Red ignores Jason's flinch, too busy shoving his own unwelcome memories back into their black box. One of many. Hood slitting Red's (then Robin's) throat. The hot, dry Arabian desert. The cock of a pistol. Death. Gotham rooftops. Blood. Unknown basements. Pain.

Jason bumps Red, nudging Tim out of his thoughts, Hood forces a chuckle, “eh, the first time was barely a graze.”

For the first time, Tim's thumbs froze as his head swivels around to look at Hood. Tim gave Hood one of his best Red Robin glares which only appears to amuse Hood.

“How in the Hell do you figure?”

Red could tell that Hood was grinning at him under his hood, “yer still breathing.”

Tim shakes his head, suppressing a smile. It had been over a year since Red Hood had last tried to kill him. Well, really tried to kill him. Without the Pit pulling strings.

Enough time passed so Tim 'replacing' Jason wasn't a raw wound anymore. It didn't hurt that Red had also been replaced at this point too. Shoved out of the way to make room for the family. Like Jason. Like Damian. Like Dick. The real sons.

Mostly though, Tim thought Jason finds it more useful to keep Red breathing instead of trying to stab him with a Batarang.

Again.

It's moderately difficult for a person with a slit throat to track the drugs trade in Gotham.

Shaking his head, Red resumes drumming his thumbs. “You have a terrible sense of humor.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s to die for,” Hood snickers more to himself than Red.

Red closes his eyes briefly, resisting the urge to sigh (because, damn it Hood, that shouldn’t be funny, but it was, so fuck you) before asking, “how’s Roy?”

Tim internal wince when he hears Jason swoon.

He’s fucking swooning.

Like a goddamn Disney Princess.

Oh Gods, when did this become Red’s life.

“He’s fukin’ fantastic. No, really Replacement,” Hood continues loudly over Red’s groans, “he does dis thing, with his tongue, dat makes me c—”

“SO, WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU?” Red’s voice came out harsher than he intends in order to cover Jason’s gushing.

Red’s rules for dealing with the Bats:

1. Find out what the Bats want.

2. Give it to them.

3. Get the Hell out of Dodge.

The less time Red (Tim) had to spend with the Bats, the better. It wasn’t like he was a welcome part of the Batfamily anymore.

Hell, the only Bat member Red ever communicated with (outside of the job) was Jason. Even then only on the rare occasion Tim was in Gotham. Red put up with it because if Tim starts avoiding Jason, Hood would go out of his way to find and talk to Red. Or Tim. Either would work.

The Titans were not enthusiastic about having the formerly dead Robin on their doorstep, asking after Red and what kind of beer they had. ("PVR? Shit, Replacement, I thought you had class.")

Besides, it was better this way. Everyone was happier in their designated roles. It's easier than trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Tim is done trying to shove that peg in anymore.

And Red's perfectly fine with it.

“B wants ya ta come ta the Manner for dinner,” Red controls a flinch that Hood graciously ignores. “Alfred making pizza.”

“Can’t. I have to run a trace on a weapons shipment,” Red lies.

It's a white lie, really. The trace on the weapons cargo (a trail Red had been working for fucking weeks now) had long since run cold. Since there were not any criminals out and about, Red should call it a night.

Oblivious as ever, Hood suggests, "do it on da Batcomputer.”

Red stifles a groan. Yes, it made a lot of sense to do it on the Batcomputer. Red hates (and he really, really hates to) to admit it, but the Batcomputer is faster than any setup that he has in Gotham. Plus, it is already hooked into Gotham PD meaning Red wouldn't waste hacking in.

For some reason, the GPD was forever upgrading their systems. It woulda been annoying except for the sense of pride Red got every time he wormed his way back into the database.

Logically, Red should do it on the Batcomputer.

But, returning to the Batcave? Ugh.

For the sake of argument, Red entered the idea of going to the Batcave.

The facts:

1. Batman would be there; that would be…unavoidable.

2. Robin would defiantly be there along with his newest pet. Through the grapevine, Red heard that somehow Robin had convinced both Batman and Agent A that he should be allowed to keep a cow in the Batcave. A cow. And to think, Bats and Agent A nearly had an aneurysm when Red had bring a guinea pig back to the Manner for a science project. It had been in a cage for Heaven sakes, but it had still been a fight to get it through the front door.

Red briefly considered if Robin was keeping the cow (dubbed Batcow for some unholy reason) was being kept in his old workspace before banishing the thought. It wasn’t any of Red’s concern what was happening in the Batcave anymore.

3. Oh fucking hell, Nightwing would be there too, come to think about it. N had moved back to Gotham after the Battle of the Cowl and the ensuing chaos that followed. As far as Red knew, N hadn't gone back to Blüdhaven nor would he after 'Haven had fallen. Nightwing would be inescapable, that is, if N even noticed Red was there. Red started drumming his thumbs again, Gods, he was beginning to sound like an angsty tween. He was twenty, not twelve for fuck sakes.

As much as his stomach yearns for Alfred's pizza, Red didn't want to go through the tedious process of expulsion from the Manor.

Not my place anymore Hood, remember?

"No, I already have all the info synced on my systems. Next time.” The tone that came out of Red's mouth was nothing like his usual tone. It was smooth. Unemotional. Insincere.

If Hood noticed the change in Red's tones, he didn't comment.

* * *

“Where were you?” Dick flips off of the high training bar, landing lightly onto the mat near Jason. Jason fought a grimace at Dick’s smirk. He had never been able to achieve Dick’s level of grace and dat fuckin' acrobatic knew it. And Jason would be damn (again) if that fuckin' asshole didn’t rub it in ta Jason’s face every fuckin' chance he got. Dick strolled pass the Demon who happened to be busy practicing with his katana (and who da fuck's bright idea was it ta give that back ta the kid? Jason, really, really didn't want ta have ta get stitches again) ta invade Jason's bubble.

“Talkin’ ta Tim,” Jason slams his helmet down onto his workbench before starting ta clean his guns.

Each of the members of the Batfamily had their own work area in the cave. Jason’s area near da garage which made it great fer a quick escape. Goldie's has his workbench next ta da mats. Demon Brat's was between Bruce's (next ta da Batcomputer) and Dick's.

The only bench dat had never been touched was fer da Replacement. It stood, damn near gleaming next ta the back of the Batcomputer where the person who was supposed ta be workin' there would have easy access ta da Batcomputer if they (Tim) needs ta repairs it.

Goldie hardly took any notice of what Jason was sayin' ‘cause he was distracted by da Brat. In fairness, it did look like the Demon Brat was tryin' ta hack the practice dummy ta death.

“Oh, that’s nice. Is he coming to dinner?”

“Busy,” Jason grunts.

“Huh, he’s been busy a lot recently,” Dick replies, still starin' at da Demon. “Damian, what on Earth are you doing with that katana? I only gave it back to you because you promised not to hurt anything with it.”

Jason misses da Brat’s response as Dick went over to correct (bicker with) Damian about the katana.

Sometimes, Jason thought, Dick was a fuckin’ idiot.

Replacement—Damn it, Tim, not Replacement (Jason was working on that)— hadn’t been near the Manner for over a year. He hadn’t been near the Batcave in almost half that time.

Yet, neither Bruce nor fuckin’ Goldie seems ta have a goddamn clue about the fucking kid. Sure, they knew what fuckin' CEO: Tim Wayne was doin’. But fuckin' really though, what tabloid didn’t?

Tim though? Ickly Baby Bird though? Dork wonder? They didn’t have a fuckin’ clue. What's worse, neither of them seem ta have a clue dat they didn't have a clue. World Greatest Detective? Shit, they couldn’t see what was goin’ on two inches from their fuckin’ face.

Jason glares down at his workbench. Shit, when had the Replacement—shit Tim— wellbeing been become fuckin’ Jason’s problem?

About a year ago, Re—Tim had gotten Jason’s nuts out of the fire. Not that Jason wouldn’t have figured a way out. He had been pinned down by drug dealers before. Sure, Jason mighta gone in a little hot (and without enough bullets and he mighta been ridin' da pit a bit, but who needed to know that?). He didn’t like drug dealers who would push their crap onto kids. It rubbed 'em the wrong way.

But Tim (fuck yeah, he got his name right)—icky Timmy-wimmy—swung in like it was noth’ and kicked some major ass. He managed to knock all the fuckin’ dealer and tied ‘em up before Jason could say shit.

Then Tim did something that Jason never expected.

He fuckin’ dragged Jason’s sorry ass back ta one of Jason’s safe houses (which Jason still doesn't know how Tim knew about dat one. It wasn't one on any of B's radar) and patched him up before leaving.

“Da fuck you do that for?” Jason slurred.

Blood loss was always a bitch.

Tim shrugged. It mighta been da blood loss, but Replacement- Tim's eyes seemed empty. “Couldn’t leave you there to die, could I?”

Tim left before Jason could respond.

It wasn’t long after dat Jason gave in to Bruce and Dick and started hanging ‘round the bats again.

Jason had expected to see Tim around the cave. After a month of not seeing Tim, he finally cracked and asked the Demon about it.

“Where’s Replacement?”

Dami looked around at him. “Tt. If you’re talking about Drake ,” he sneered the name which made Jason’s eyes roll, “he doesn’t live here anymore.”

"Isn't the kid only like, eighteen?"

Damian stared blankly at Jason. "And your point, Todd?"

Dat was da last time Jason had asked any Tim question ta any of da Bats. He did, from time to time, still yanked on Timmy’s chain, ta make sure the kid was still kickin’.

Alfred's voice pulls 'em from his thoughts as the butler calls them up fer dinner.

* * *

Tim took a deep breath in as he parked his Ducati before entering his Perch.

It had been a long week. If Tim saw one more proposal to sell WE tech to Lexcorp, he was going to scream. Some of the ideas people were having…. Tim had begun to worry about the intelligence level of those who worked for him.

Tim heavily sigh before sliding off his cowl and tunic. He glances down at the rainbow of bruises that were blooming over his torso. No need for (new) stitches tonight. Yay.

Maybe Tam would let him have an easy day tomorrow...? Tim snorts at that idea as he pokes a particular large bruise that's three different shades of purple. He was the CEO of a major company who, on average, spent less than a week a month in the office. So when Tam got him in the office…well, there was lots of paperwork. Tam likes to claim that if he was here more that there’d be less paperwork. Tim disagrees with this. If Tim were in the office more, he would have more paperwork.

Tim finally gets his costume off and pulls on his sweats. Sweats were, in Tim's opinion, one of the best things ever invented. They allow him to feel a bit more like Tim rather than Mr. Wayne or Red Robin.

Tim hums to himself as he left his perch to go up to his apartment.

Unlike his perch (where everything was in prestige condition) Tim's apartment is a disaster. While in Gotham, he was also almost always too busy to clean. After the fourth (or was the fifth?) time Tam had entered his apartment to find it in shambles, she suggested (ordered) Tim get a cleaning service. She even offered to do it herself. Tim had declined the offer because of, well, Bat.

That's how Tim found himself (at three o’clock in the fucking morning) washing his coffee mug before setting up his coffee maker for the morning.

As Tim washed the cup, he debated with himself about whether he needs to sleep tonight when he heard his phone buzz. He glances down to see Conner had sent him a text.

GO TO BED.

Tim grinning types back:

How do you know that I wasn’t snug as a bug in bed and asleep until my phone went off?

Tim sent the message off. Less than ten seconds later (which, crap, that means Con means business), his phone buzzed again.

Because I know you. Go the fuck to bed or you're grounded all weekend.

Tim snorts at that. It isn’t like the metas in the Titans would (could) ground him. He had escape plans for every one of grounding. Although, Raven had threatened she’d poof in his room and take all his Red Robin uniforms. He didn’t want to test that. So Tim texts back:

Fine. Going to bed.

Tim barely gets the coffee grounds out before his phone buzzed again.

NOW or I’m flying over there.

Tim rolls his eyes at his best friend before sending back:

My God, I need to get your cameras out of here. I’m making coffee for the A.M. then straight to bed. Night, worrywart.

As Tim put the finishing touches on the coffee, his phone went off again.

Night, reason why I have an ulcer. Oh, and don’t forget to take your vitamins!

* * *

The next morning at WE was not as bad as he was expecting.

It was so, so, so much worse.

As soon as he got in, Tam grabbed him to tell him that an investor was waiting in Tim’s office. The investor wanted to discuss why his product wasn’t in production yet.

Tim's ears were still ringing as, an hour later, he heads to a board meeting. Trying to get the board to make a decision was like trying to get Bart to slow down. Frustrating and ultimately useless.

By the end of the meeting, Tim wasn’t sure what the meeting had been about or if a decision had even been made. This all happened before lunch.

“You want the usual, Tim?” Tam asks, as Tim was about to reenter his office.

“That sounds fanatics, Tam, thanks.” He gives her a grateful half smile.

Tam hums back. “Oh and Tim, Mr. Wayne requested a meeting with you. Again.”

Tim suppresses a sigh. “What’d you say?”

“That you were going back out of town tonight and I wasn’t sure when you’d be back. Which isn't a lie because I don’t know when you’re going to be back."

Tim rubs his temples ignoring Tam’s glare. A migraine had been threatening to form for the last hour and a guilt trip from Tam was the last thing that Tim needs.

“I promise Tam, when I know, you’ll know.”

She huffs. “Fine then. I’ll get your lunch for you.”

Tim smiles at her. “Thanks, Tam.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t thank me yet. Once Mr. Wayne found out that you were going out of town again he—” but the rest of her sentence was cut off by Bruce.

Bruce coming out of Tim’s office.

Great.

Tim felt his best CEO mask slip into place. He hadn’t seen Bruce since…well, Tim wasn’t sure when the last time that he’d seen Bruce. Let alone been close enough to talk to him.

“There you are, Tim!” Brucie came out in full force this morning.

Great, this is exactly what Tim’s head needs this morning.

“He decided to stop by for a bit. See you in a few, Tim.” Tam shoots him an apologetic look before leaving.

Tam may not know all of what went down between Tim and the Bats, but she did know that it was best to keep them separate if possible or, if not, to get out of the way.

“Bruce. I wasn’t expecting to see you today. How’s Selina?” Tim keeps his voice detached as he processes these new turn of events.

What he wouldn't give for a cup of coffee...

Tim strolls into his office with Brucie following him, the door squeaking shut behind them.

“She’s great! So, son,” Tim suppresses a flinch (not your kid, remember? Just the placeholder between kids. We’re all clear on that, right? Right.). “I didn’t even know that you were in town. I thought you were still in San Francisco.”

“I’m headed there tonight,” Tim begrudgingly informs Bruce. Though neither his expression nor tone changes from the CEO mask. “So, what can I do for you?”

Bruce extracted some files from his jacket (Where did those folders come from? Red did not like not knowing that.) before thrusting them at Tim.

“Can you run the data for me on this case?”

“Not a problem.” Tim flips open the top file.

“Alfred wants you to come for dinner.”

It was a statement. Not a question.

“Can’t, sorry. I’m going to the Tower right after work. Maybe next time.” Tim replies automatically without looking up.

Brucie, however, didn’t seem to notice the tone. He was already on his cellphone, checking something.

“Right then. Next time.” Bruce left before Tim gets a chance to respond. Tim drops the files next to his desk before walking around it and sinking down into his chair. He lightly raps his head against the desk for a minute.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Tim thinks to himself. He tries to make it a point to not tell the any of Bats of his coming or goings. Really, though, it wasn’t like any of them cared.

A voice in the back of his head (that sounded suspiciously like Con) whispers that it must be the sleep deprivation, which didn’t make any sense. Tim had gotten almost two whole hours of sleep this morning. And that's like ten normal people hours of sleep.

It really isn’t Tim’s fault that the police reports that he had been waiting weeks for had finally been put on to the Gotham server last night. Of course, he had to read them last night just to make sure they were the right ones. He wasn’t going to send the Titans, his team, off on a wild goose chase. So, he had read the report and made his own before going to bed last—this morning.

Tim's pulled from these thoughts by a knock on the door. Tam was standing there, holding a carb salad with raises eyebrows.

“Here is the thing you claim is lunch.” Tam crosses the room and places the box onto Tim’s desk.

Tim sniffs, shuffling Bruce’s papers away. “There is nothing wrong with eating a salad for lunch.”

“It’s not the salad itself I object to. It's the fact that it's your only eating a salad for lunch that weird."

“Who doesn’t like salad?”

“Most sane people.”

Tim snorts. “You realize calling your boss insane isn’t a good idea?”

“Tim, if you fired me, then you’d have to do all the paperwork,” Tam smirks at Tim’s horrified expression. “Yeah, I think my job is safe. What did Mr. Wayne want?” She nonchalantly asks.

Tim stiffens at the question. “He just wanted some data.” Tim flips the lid off the salad to see a full family sized salad sitting in front of him. “I think you may have gotten too much.”

“No, I didn't. You'll need the energy. The Lexcorp officials are coming after lunch for an impromptu meeting. Don't worry,” Tam continues at Tim's groan, "I've already told Steve down at Security to run interference." Tam turns to leave. “And I expect all of that salad to be gone by the time I get back mister,” she adds in her best mock motherly voice.

“Yes, Ma’am.” And Tim took an exaggeratedly large bit at Tam’s glare.

* * *

The rest of the day at WE went by relatively smoothly. Tim's even able to get out at a reasonable hour.

Miraculous, Tim had been able to finish the whole salad. Or, maybe it wasn’t a miracle; just Tim failing at remembering to feed himself. Tam was always good at making sure Tim ate. She claims that he was just too skinny and would attempt to force-feed him every chance she got.

Tim hums to himself as he unlocks the front door to his apartment. He was supposed to be at the tower by midnight. For once, he didn’t have to rush to get there or run the risk of being late.

There were even times that Tim thought that his three-floor apartment a little…much.

When Tim had bought it, he'd never expected that all of the space would bother him. Spending most of his childhood alone at the Drake house and then at the Manner, large empty space had never been an issue.

And Tim had been fine with it until he had started to spend more time at the tower. Tim smiles at the thought of the other Titans while dumping his briefcase onto the couch and throwing his suit jacket down too (his mother, or Alfred for that matter, would have been horrified that Tim had just thrown a custom made Armani suit onto the ground, like trash? but, hey, they weren’t here so what they do?). Tim heads down the hallway towards his bedroom, taking off the pieces of Tim Wayne: CEO costume off so he could put on his Tim Drake: Red Robin uniform on instead.

The tie went on the guest bathroom’s doorknob, and the shoes get kicked down the hallway ahead (making a small crashing noise) of him into his room. By the time Tim reached his bedroom, he was just in his undershirt and pants.

Red stills.

Something wasn’t right.

Red looks around, trying to figure out what was misplaced. His eye roved over the neat mess also known as his closet. He really should get somebody in to clean it but who has the time to vet a new hire? His dresser was pulled open with clothing spilling out of it.

Tim did have a ridiculous amount of clothing.

Tim’s eyes froze on his bedside table. There was the usual clutter (empty soda cans, coffee mugs, Chinese food containers, etc.) but there, sitting neatly embedded on top of all of the disarray was a gleaming knife.

A blade used personally by the Demon’s Head.

Tim had only seen that dagger a handful of times before. None of those memories were pleasant.

A bubble of panic began to form in his chest. Shit, shit, shit. I do not have time for this today Ra’s. Tim casually reached towards his distress beacon.

He hadn’t even moved an inch before pain met him.

Tim was hurled forward before slamming down onto his bed by a force behind him.

“Now, now, Detective. We can’t have you spoiling all the fun now, can we?” Ra’s voice came from a spot a few feet in front of Tim where he'd magically appeared.

Fucking hell. I don’t have time for this.

“We wouldn’t want you to call those pesky Titans, now would we?”

“Go to Hell, Ra's.” Tim's voice was somewhat less intimidating, what with the three ninjas smashing into his back and a pillow smothering him.

“Tut, tut. Language, young Detective.” Tim feels the stab of a syringe going into his neck followed by a burning sensation. The world began to get fuzzy. “It wouldn’t do for the next Demon’s Head to insult his predecessor.”

There's a rushing noise in Tim's ears which is only drowned out by the steady beat of his heart. Lights begain to dim. Tim's arms were getting heavery as he struggled to move. Tim give a weak kick towards the person pinning him down wich barely rocks the bed. The world is quickly closing in on Tim.

Before he completely passes the fuck out, Tim manage to say, “What would you prefer Ra’s, Real Housewives of Gotham or Metropolis? Because one of those will be playing on a loop for days before I’m done.”

The last sound Tim hears before sleep overtakes him is of Ra's laughing.

Thanks for reading!

AO3 link here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106355/chapters/42802829

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Conner Kent #Tam Fox #Bruce Wayne #Ra's al Ghul

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whistlemist · 5 years

Text

Take Out Night

Tim did not have time for this.

There was a meeting going on back home with his family. One of the most important meetings they always had that, for the bat-kids, was pretty much life or death. It was always about strategy, cunning, and wit.

It was the family takeout night.

Someone got to pick what the whole family would order, no exceptions, no other fast food, no other options. It took a whole hour meeting of them trying to outsmart each, to impress Bruce so they could get the main prize and tonight Tim wanted Chinese food.

Which means that getting kidnapped wasn’t a good start to this afternoon. With a scowl on his face, he dug his heels into the carpet as the masked man was trying to drag him out of WE. It only worked a little since Tim was small and bearly when over the 110 marks. This might be why he was kidnapped so often because all they had to do to Tim Wayne was toss him over their shoulder.

The heels in the carpet did nothing, he was still dragged along like it was nothing. When they got to the car he looked up at the man. “Listen, I know you ‘re probably really good at this, but it’s family Take out and Movie night and I really want to win the food part, so can I just write you a check and go?”

“Get in the car kid!” The man growled grabbing him by the back of his shirt before forcing Tim inside the backseat, soon the other two men had shown up getting into the car before driving away. “Shut up and I won’t kill you, kid!”

Grumbling Tim crossed his arms eyes closed. Now he had a huge problem. Last few times he had lost to Dick and Jason. Italian food and Burgers where good but he really wanted to eat some Chinese food! It’s not like he could let his chance slip again! Not with Jason and Dick both plotting about some sorta new food, whatever it was called, but he wanted sesame chicken and pork fried rice damn it!

“I can write it right now. I have my checkbook and a pen,” Tim offered and when they said nothing he frowned. “Come on! What teenager has a pen nowadays?! Please….?! It’s a family food ad movie night!”

“I said shut up!”

Sitting back Tim started to tap his foot trying to think of an escape plan that would be simple enough for Tim Wayne. This would have been so much easier as Red Robin. He’d just knock them out before heading home.

Looking out the window he thought about throwing himself out the door but Tim knew that not only was that risky but did he really want to risk getting injured and stuck int he hospital with no food that he had his heart on? Nope! Time to think of something else.

After a few minutes, they pulled into an alleyway. Alright, this could work for him. Maybe just slip away when they weren’t looking. Easy, simple, he liked this.

Suddenly the car came to a stop in the middle of the always. Sitting up Tim looked around confused on why where they just here in the middle of this place where anyone could find them?! Handn’t they done this before or at least looked it up online before deciding to kidnap one of Wayne’s children?!

“Get the other car,”

Oh, they had a second car. Well, points to that. As he was yanked out of the car Tim just went limp, pretending to pass out. If they thought he did maybe they would have some struggle to get him the next car.

Suddenly he was just tossed over someone’s shoulder. Well, that never worked, why would it work now? Despite that, he was ready to figure out how to get home. The sound of something opening let him know that was probably the truck. Still being limp he was lowered down laid on the floor of the truck before it slammed shut.

Opening his eyes only after he felt the car starting Tim crossed his arms looking up into the darkness with a scowl on his face. Alright, now that he was alone there was an unknown window of time. First, he felt around with his hand looking for the strap that was often used in case kids got stuck in the trunk. Feeling around he found nothing.

“Right,” Tim mumbled before moving around to reach down to his watch pressing a button as small light blinked on. Taing off the watch he set it on his chest before moving to reach down to his show. A twist of the heel was made to reveal a lock picking kit. “Alright time to get out of here so I can get my food.”

Taking out the tools he started to mess with the lock moving the tools around trying find the right… mechaizmen…. A click. Ah ha! Carefully he held onto the lid waiting for the car to pull to a stop that way jumping out wasn’t going to cause to harm. Finally, it pulled to a stop peeking out he looked around the streets.

Carefully Tim slipped out of the trunk before moving carefully towards a shop. Going inside he kept down heading towards the back door when the front door slammed open “There he is!”

“Crap,” Tim shot off running towards the back door. Slamming it open he hurried over to the fire escape stairs. Lowering himself at the last moment he jumped up catching the end pulling himself up rushing up the stairs ignoring how his kidnappers struggled to try to get the stairs to pull down. “Sorry, I got to go!”

Getting to the top Tim looked around for an entrance. Finding the door he ran to it wiggling the handle only to find it locked. Now he could pick it but that would give the others time to reach him. Besides he didn’t want to lose his kit, it was brand new!

Going to the end of the building he looked over before humming. Yeah, that would be a perfect place to land on. Now all he needed was the sped. Running back to the end Tim took a breath before running full sped leaping off the building.

The second he got close enough to landing he tucked and rolled before springing back up running towards the door. Not waiting to see if it was locked or opened he kicked it open. No time to waste he hurried down the stairs to before ended up on a ninth floor.

Going out he realized he was in a realtor building. Luckily they had an elevator. Going over he pushed a button waiting. As he stood there Tim tried to fix his suit. It had gotten a bit crinkled with all that drama from work. Pushing the coat down trying to get the lines out e noticed that his phone was missing.

He would have to delete everything on there when he got home. Luckily it had a failsafe on it and if those thugs tried to use it the thing would fray itself out. Still, that was a nice phone! Had all his music on it… oh well, he’d pick up another one on the way home.

The bing, the doors opening as Tim walked in thinking about all his favorite foods he was going to be ordering tonight. Pork fried rice, sesame chicken, Sweet and sour chicken, beef and broccoli, cream cheese wontons, egg fu young, ah, there was much he was going to order and the leftovers he was going to put them in containers tomorrow that way he could eat them for and lunch.

Getting downstairs he sighed before asking the front desk if he could make a call. He called a few of his brothers, Jason, Dick to come to pick him up.

But those jerks! They wanted him to give up his bid to take out! Hanging up on them Tim st his hands on his hips debating on what he was about to do and if it was childish enough to warrant the single e was about to give out.

It was time to be childish.

“You know when you said you it was matter of life and death, I thought you meant actually dying,” Kon said as he carried Tim in his arms towards the Manor. “I don’t think fighting over what take out is life or death, Tim.”

“Have you’ve ever been to my family's take out night?” Tim asked as he held on smiling. He kissed Kon’s cheek. “Thanks for getting here so fast.”

“You screamed ‘Kon, I’m dying!’ of course I got there fast!” Kon said before smiling at the kiss. He held Tim a little closer before moving to fly lower as the Manor came into view. “You know for a place where some of the scariest people live is also one of the most beautiful places.”

“The Manor was in the talk of Home and Gardens,” It was said with pride because, well, yes Wayne Manor was a very lovely place to live and screamed wealth. As they landed on the balcony outside his room Tim gave Kon a kiss on the lips, a chase one but still loving. “Thank you, I’ll text you later!”

“See ya!”

Once showered, dried and dressed Tim hurried downstairs. He would have to grab a phone from the cave, for now, to use until he got a new one. Once he picked one that he liked, copied all his things to the new phone Tim Destroyed the old one.

Running back upstairs he headed towards the kitchen Tim got there in time to see everyone watching the news. At first, he wondered what happened and if this ruined the chance of his food but then he noticed that it was his own kidnapping.

“Well, looks like Drake is fine,” Damian said turned around. “Shame, with you gone I would have been able to beat these idiots easily,”

“Shut up, Satan’s child!” Jason snapped at him as he crossed his arms. “Brat’s right now, it would have been easier.”

“Glad you’re alright, Tim,” Dick grinned going over to hug before pulling back face getting serious. “But it’s time to battle.”

“First things first,” Bruce came over to Tim “Post something your social media so people won’t keep report that you’ve been kidnapped.”

“Right,” Tim said glaring at Dick as the older Robin backed away as they eyes each other up. He took out his phone opening up his app while asking “What game are we playing tonight, Bruce?”

“We haven’t drawn out the games yet,” Walking over to a small bowl that had small pieces of paper folded up into squares. Holding it up Bruce nodded to boys as they all sat down around the island table waiting. Bruce shuffled the papers before holding one up. “First game tonight. Janga. The ten-second rule applies, everyone has that time to make their move, if you miss it, you’re out.”

Tim paused to take a picture of himself flashing a peace sign while added that he was safe at home and that it was thanks to Batman. Yeah, he’s dealing with the press another day. Looking back he was already thinking about how to make his first move, well depending on who went first second and third.

“Second part will be,” Bruce moved the papers again before pulling out another one looking it over for a second. “Calculations.”

Dick frowned slightly, not that he was bad at it but going against Tim? That was going to be a challenge not to mention he could tell that the stakes where high tonight. Tim had an air of wanting to win and it was strong.

“After that, the final challenge will be,” A toss of the bowl before the last paper came out. “Connet four.”

“Tt.” Damian looked at the other three eyes narrowed. It was a simple childish game but placing that game in the mix with them? He knew he’d have to be careful. “When do we start?”

“Now.” Bruce turned around picking up the Jenga game opening it. “You know the rules, last one standing gets food order rights. Now, since we did it youngest to oldest last week, will go oldest to youngest.”

Everyone wast tensely watching as Tim placed his last block on top as the tower wobbled a bit before going back to being still. Once it stilled moved forward quickly eyes scanning the thing as his time was quickly going he got one block out placing it on top before they all paused as the thing wiggled more threating to topple over.

Crash!

“Yes!” Tim shouted throwing his arms up into the air “I win!”

“I’ll kill you, Drake!”

“You lot, so shut it!” Tim yelled as the two of them started to face off only to be ripped again. “Hey!”

“Enough!” Bruce set them down. “Damian, you lost. Alright, let’s move on with calculations.”

Dick was struggling as he answered another question. On the paper there were ten questions, each of them made by Bruce, did he ever put an easy one? No! Not at all so he was trying to get done as soon as possible. If anything he had to be at least second to move on to the next round.

The scrapping of paper, however, was unnerving and he could hear how fast Tim was going. Damn, this was a major disadvantage with this challenge. Tim was a well-known genius and maybe people underestimated Jason but the second Robin was a lot smarter than most people knew.

The hope had been that Tim would have been taken out in the first round but since that didn’t happen he had to do his best to get all the answers right and to finish on time. The stupid timmer was a half hour but he almost cringed when he heard the small ping of the bell in and Tim call out that he was done.

Trying to force his mind to work fast Dick scribbled down his answers as fast as he could. The second bell made him wince as he could feel Jason’s smirk even though he hadn’t looked up. Once he was done he flipped his paper over and smacked the bell.

“Done!”

“Alright, there were two minutes and three seconds left on the bell.” Bruce closed his phone before taking all the papers reading them over. “Tim got every answer right.”

“Of course,” Jason rolled his eyes. “Come on, old man who’s it gonna be me or Dick?”

Taking a minute to go over both the papers Bruce took his time before looking up. “Jason is the winner. Dick, you forgot to show your work on two of these.”

“Noooooooo!” Dick cried laying his head down. “I wanted pizza!”

“F*ck yeah!” Jason yelled standing up before glaring at Tim, his hand patting his hidden gun. “Ready to lose?”

“Like that’s going to happen,” Tim glared standing full height though it did very little against how tall Jason was. “Get ready to be buried twice.”

“Damn, that’s cold,” Jason smirked. “Alright, bring it on!”

The rules were the same as Janga, you have ten seconds to get your move in or you lost. Tim and Jason had been moving their red and black pieces as fast as possible as well as keeping tabs on each other’s moves.

Baby blue eyes and Lazurus’s green eyes glared at each other while they moved their pieces down into the slots as the pieces continued to fall until finally there was only a few moved left. Jason moving one over only he bearly missed the line as it fell into the wrong slot before he could snag it up.

“No! Damn it!”

Without hesitation, Tim put his second to the last piece in before jumping up with his hands raised high. “Yes! I am victorious!”

“Damn it!” Jason hit his fists on the table before sitting back. “Whatever, you got lucky!”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Jay,” Dick laughed as he moved to put the game away.

“It makes you look pathetic, Todd.”

“You were sulking this whole time!”

“Enough!” Bruce yelled as he pulled out his phone. “Alright, Tim, what are we ordering?”

As the Silence of the Lambs played, it was near the end in the Family movie room. In front of them on the coffee table, it was full of Chinese take out boxes. Everyone had their own plate filled with this and that from the place and even got seconds.

Tim was in his chair next to Bruce watching the movie as he slowly ate the late of his food eyes closing a little. Even though the movie wasn’t scary to him, hell they have seen worse. With the last bite of his food, the warm bubbling feeling that had settled in his stomach the second the food had arrived was expanding as he felt relaxed and peaceful.

Shifting more he laid his head on Bruce’s shoulder slowly dozing up thinking about what leftover Chinese food he was going to eat tomorrow. Just before he could slip all the way under he made a mental note that next week he wanted Korean food.

#fan fiction #Tim Drake #family #Batkids

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