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ynscrazylife · 6 months

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THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️

— CHAPTER TWO

Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batman!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Having to wait until morning to pull the security cam footage from nearby stores was hell. In the meantime, Bruce filled out a missing persons report (and nearly broke down whilst doing it). The worst part of it all was having to come home, alone, and face his family.

His kids and Alfred were exactly where he left them, all in the living room.

“Where’s Mom?” Dick was the first to ask, arms crossed. Neither he nor his brothers could hide the worry flickering across his face. Not even Alfred, who was usually so composed.

“I believe,” Bruce began, wanting to be strong for them. The image of your smiling face flashed in his mind and he slammed his hand against the nearby wall to steady himself. Get it together, he told himself. The weight of your shattered phone in his pocket felt like tons of bricks. “She’s been taken.”

He hated that that was all he could say on it. That was all he knew. He hated that he had to say it at all.

Five rounds of “What?!” echoed around the room. Bruce forced himself to look at Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. At their pain. Their shock.

“I only found her phone, broken. But we will bring her home,” Bruce said, knowing that there was no keeping his children out of this investigation. “I will take the lead. I’m going to go downstairs and start working. Anyone is free to join me, but I’d also suggest trying to sleep. If you can.”

He started towards the stairs. Then, half-way there, he stopped and turned around, opening up his arms. It took a second, but the boys came to him, and Bruce tucked them in his arms with a strong, tight hug. Alfred watched for a moment, then walked around and put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

“We will find her,” Bruce vowed.

And, he thought, if you were harmed in anyway, if a single hair was out of place, he’d destroy whoever had enough nerve to do this.

Standing by Commissioner Gordon’s side, Bruce peered over the employee sitting at his desk, who was starting up the footage on his computer. They found the closest store to the spot where your phone was found and as soon as the sign switched from closed to open, they walked in.

“Here you go,” the employee murmured, pressing play.

The footage was grainy and dark but with narrowed eyes, Bruce was determined to take in all that he could. As soon as you walked into frame, Bruce couldn’t help but tense up, nervous about what they were going to see.

Your pace started slowing as you took out your phone. Then, a jolt of electricity — where it was coming from was off-screen — hit your in the back. Bruce fixed his jaw, trying not to lash out or yell or even cry as he saw you fall. The thought of you, limp on the hard, dirty sidewalk . . .

Then, two figures came into frame, lean builds and wearing all black. Bruce watched how one stomped on your phone screen and he took a breath. They were saying something to each other, but the footage didn’t have audio. It was impossible to make out. He curled his fingers into a fist when they each took one of your arms, starting to drag you away. They didn’t seem to care at all that your head was bouncing off the ground and Bruce wanted to smash the screen.

He’d make them fucking pay, that was for sure.

Gordon did the talking, thanking the employee and whatnot. Bruce was in a daze, the footage playing over and over again in his head. He hadn’t even realized that Gordon wrapped up the conversation until he was pulled outside. They went a few stores down, trying to find more security camera footage of where they took you.

When they did, Gordon and Bruce watched as the kidnappers haphazardly tossed you into the car. As if you were nothing. As if you weren’t the most precious thing in Bruce’s life. He made fists again. They drove away and the one good thing was that the footage captured the license plate.

Gordon drove them to the police station and Bruce practically forced him to speed. A goddamn license plate, that was their only clue. Bruce’s only hope. He was pacing back and forth while the police actually ran the plate, never staying still for even a millisecond.

Finally, Gordon emerged. “They must’ve stolen the car. We’ll start sending patrol units out, contact other local departments . . . We will find this car. We’ll find them,” he said confidently.

While patrol units drove all around the city and beyond, Bruce did the same in his Batmobile. He spent every minute of every hour on the road, only returning for food and a couple hours of sleep after numerous calls from Alfred. It was the second time when he came home that he saw how much this was affecting his children. A wave of guilt hit, he knew that he hadn’t been paying as much attention to them as he should’ve.

You would’ve told Bruce to leave it to your fellow detectives, who were hellbent on getting you home. You would’ve told Bruce that he didn’t have to be Batman. He had to be home. God, you were so good, it sometimes hurt.

Bruce sat with his four boys on the couch, his arms wrapped around them. He updated them on the case, told them everything he knew. Of course, they asked to join him on patrol, but Bruce told them there was no need. He was going to take a few days off to spend with them.

It was after those few days that Bruce received a call from Gordon. They were in the middle of a somber dinner when his phone rang and the vigilante sprang up from his seat, nearly knocking his chair over. Everyone paused their eating.

“Gordon?” Bruce asked. The last few times, Gordon had nothing big to tell him, but Bruce answered his phone the same way every time.

“We got the car. It’s abandoned, but they drove out of the city. Parked near the woods.”

Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian all wanted to go search with their father, but Alfred assured Bruce that he’d have them finish their dinners. Bruce gave each one of them a kiss on the head and promised to be home at a reasonable hour (which Alfred would hold him to, bless the man) before he rushed off.

It took a little while to get to the coordinates that Gordon sent, but when he did, he found detectives and cops and even civilian-organized search parties. It warmed Bruce’s heart, how much the city adored you. They knew you as Mrs Wayne, the kind and brave detective.

He joined the search as Batman, looking high and low. He got deep into the woods when finally, he found something. A group of costumed people all looking around, some confused, some awed. Bruce could tell they didn’t belong.

“Identify yourself,” he growled, coming out of the shadows and approaching them.

They all turned to him suddenly. No one moved or said anything for a second, until a redheaded woman came forward. She looked to be around your age, maybe a couple years older.

“This is probably going to come as a shock, but please, hear me out,” the woman began.

“I don’t ‘hear’ people out. Identify yourself, now,” Bruce demanded, in no mood for games.

The woman sighed softly. “Fine. You can call me te Black Widow. Back home, I — we — are known as the Avengers. We’re looking for someone named Y/N,” she told him.

#bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne angst #bruce x you #bruce x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x batmom #batfamily x reader #dc batman #batman fic #batman fluff #batmom #batmobile #avengers x reader #mcu avengers #dc marvel crossover

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melloollem · 1 month

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Family nights|| Bruce Wayne x Batmom Reader × Batboys

Summary: Your children keep you company after patrol until your husband arrives.

Warnings: English is not my native language.

(DC masterlist)

You were woken by a movement at the bottom of the bed and your first reaction was to reach out to Bruce's side of the bed. Noticing the lack of your husband's warmth at your side, you reluctantly opened your eyes, a sigh escaped your lips and, as you moved your legs, you heard a complaint: "Mom, I'm here". You readjusted your position, with an expression of confusion on your face.

"Damian, I told you not to wake her." It was Tim's turn to speak, his sudden presence startled you, he'd come out of the bathroom in your room, damn vigilante skills, when had these kids gotten in here? "Tsk, you don't even know what happened, I didn't wake her, Drake" you sighed recognizing the scenario that always ended in a long argument between the boys, before Tim could retort arousing Damian's fury you butted in "Ok, you two have had enough of this, let's not do this now" Your body stretched towards Damian pulling him into your arms, while leaning on the headboard.

"Mummy's boy" Jason's mocking voice was heard as he lay down on the side of the bed that belonged to Bruce, had he been lying on the floor all this time? Confusion returned to her face at the thought. "Shut up, Todd, it's not my fault you're too old to be with your mother" Despite Damian's quick response, you felt him tense in your arms, you wouldn't have hugged him if you'd known it wasn't just him and Tim in the room, everyone knew how shy Damian was with displays of affection. Your embrace loosened, but the boy still didn't get off your lap.

"Get your big ass over there, Jason," said Dick as he got up from the floor too, but unlike Jason, he had a pillow in his hand, you couldn't even be surprised anymore. The eldest of your children settled down on the bed with the space left for him, turning to you and saying "Hi, Mom," a half-childish smile escaped him, and you reciprocated in the same way "Can you tell me what you're doing here?" Your tone was more serious than expected.

"Bruce asked us to stay with you," said Tim as he took Damian's place at the end of the bed. "He had some things to sort out after patrol," added Jason. You turned on the lamp next to the bed, all this time the boys were walking around the room with the help of the light from the hallway.

"Actually, father asked me to stay with you until he got back, the others invited themselves" Damian informed "In fact, Dick invited himself and pulled Tim and me into it" Jason let out in a tired grumble. "It would be like a slumber party, according to him" Tim let out a sigh, their eyes turned to Dick waiting for his side of the story and receiving only a shy smile in response.

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table as you said "It's late, one of you go and get him" Referring to Bruce, all of your children let out a tired sigh and before a general discussion started you said "Ok, text him and tell him to come" Dick was the one who picked up his cell phone and sent Bruce a text message, not quite sure how long it would take for him to see it.

You closed your eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep as kicks to your side tried to hit Tim "Damian, leave your brother so I can sleep" the younger man squeaked "But mom, he's lying on top of me" You didn't even have to open your eyes to know that Damian was exaggerating about his brother's current position. "Damian" his tone foreshadowed a reprimand, the boy shut up and moved further away from his brother.

A comfortable hush settled over the room, you hoped to return to your old state, but Tim was in opposition "I don't want to sleep" You abandoned the idea at this point in the discussion, realizing that it would be impossible. Dick quickly retorted "You're the one of us who needs the most sleep" An annoyed murmur escaped Jason "I'm the one who needs the most sleep" He, like you, really wanted to sleep, but it looked like this family was repulsed by the term.

"We can watch a movie" Tim said, you knew he was electric because of the mission, typical attitude. "Sure, look for something" Jason sighed in response to your declaration, he can't believe you gave in so easily. Tim flipped through the catalog, indecisive about what to watch "We could watch a musical, a comedy, a horror movie..." "Your voice is the most terrifying thing tonight," Jason cut off his brother, who continued to ramble on about the different types of movie you could watch.

At one point Tim opted for a mystery movie, you rolled your eyes at the choice, the kids always figured out the mystery before the middle of the movie, ruining the experience. You watched what was supposed to be a movie session turn into a loose conversation after Tim did exactly what you had predicted. They debated the mission, most of them, Jason just mumbled something at one time or another in agreement.

"Does anyone know how to solve this? What's he talking about?" Now they were talking about one of the Charade's riddles, and it seemed that Tim still had no idea what the villain meant. "It's an allusion to mirrors" Bruce was the one who answered as he entered the room, all eyes turned to him and Jason let out a relieved sigh "Finally, I'm going to sleep" He stood up and stretched his body lazily. "What about the movie?" Damian was the one who asked "The script is weak" Tim said following Jason's example and sliding out of bed, now that he had an idea of where to start solving the puzzle there was no reason to stay there.

You watched each of your children leave the room with a brief "good night", you answered each of them, Dick was the last to leave, closing the door. A sigh of relief left your lips, wishing you could finally go back to sleep, Bruce chuckled at your attitude, before sliding in next to you, your eyes following his every move as he got into bed.

"Everything okay?" Your question was prompted by his delay in returning home "Will be" your brow furrowed hoping for a better answer, that kind of vague assurance never brought good news, but all Bruce did when he noticed your expression was leave a quick kiss on your forehead with the same words "Will be", you decided not to ask any more questions, but that subject still circled your mind.

"Family movie?" he asked, turning to the television, intending to change his focus, you followed his example, the movie was still playing in a scene that wasn't so interesting right now "Tim's choice. You're the only one missing" Even though you smiled, Bruce noticed what you meant in those words, but decided to ignore it "What movie is that?" Now he was looking at you. Taking advantage of the moment, you caught the changes in Bruce's image, he looked more tired than usual "I'm not sure, but it looks like we have two killers and one of them is the victim's brother" Anticipating his next question, you added "Tim spared no details".

A silence consumed the room, the two of you staring at the television, wrapped in each other's embrace. You weren't sure how much of Bruce's thoughts were on the movie, he seemed to be thinking about something else, but he wouldn't share it with you. Bruce had made a vow to himself not to bring the dilemmas of vigilante life into rooms with you, too bad he couldn't stop them from plaguing his own mind.

"You know you can tell me everything, right?" You tried to broach the subject gently, wishing Bruce would share his fears with you "Tim has terrible taste in movies" His response took you by surprise, drawing a laugh from you "Said the man from the musicals" You allowed the light tone to take over the conversation "I thought that was one of the things you loved about me" He couldn't believe it "I think that was one of the things you said on our first date" Another laugh erupted from you at your husband's surprised expression, "I'm sorry about that" An amused smile escaped you and Bruce could only smile back at the sight of it.

Your laughter gradually subsided and now you just looked at each other in love "I'm serious about this, you can tell me anything" You took advantage of the comfort of the situation to clarify your speech. "I know that" He seemed to focus on his own thoughts for a second "I love you" Bruce hoped that declaration would be able to quell all your worries. "I know that" You smiled cheekily, but quickly returned to your passionate expression "And I love you too".

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auroreliis · 7 months

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i just have one of the most life changing ideas ever and its- blind, deaf, and mute baking with the batfam. you can choose who’s who and who’s filming and who has the fire extinguisher ready.

Thank you for this request! It was entertaining to write :)

Yeah Alfred said no, so you had to wait until he and Bruce left the manor

Platonic Yandere!Batfam

Summary: Chaos in the kitchen (blind, mute and deaf baking)

CW: no warnings

(not edited or proofread)

This was going to be fun, that was for sure. However, the arguing that came along with it was maddening.

Currently all four of your brothers were talking over, shouting at and fighting with each other.

Together you had all decided to bake a cake while one of you was deaf, one mute and one blind. The only problem was that there were five of you, so either one role repeated or you had to find a different solution.

The primary source of the conflict was the question of who would have which role.

Dick requested to do it randomly, but Jason insisted that he and Damian should be mute, because they talk too much.

Damian, on the other hand, was not pleased with that solution and instead told Jason to just be deaf. However, Tim stated that he also didn't want to hear Damian and Dick talk.

Exhaling, you leaned your cheek against your palm with your elbow positioned on the kitchen counter. Maybe you should just call Alfred. The idea of all four of them getting in trouble was entertaining enough for you to subconsciously snicker. Just as quickly as it appeared, your smile dropped again when you heard what role they had decided for you.

"You'll be filming, alright, Songbird?", Dick pointed at you, expecting you to comply.

"What? No! I want to bake the cake too!", you protested, but to no avail. "No way! You'd burn the kitchen down", Dick dismissed you with the wave of his hand.

"Wow. So you trust Dick in the kitchen, but not me?", you turned to the others, not really believing they had any say in this at all. You were met with silence from their end.

Unbelievable. This was another thing about your new family. Everything fun was verboten. More specifically, anything that was even insignificantly risky, was off the table. Which sucked, since you were basically living off adrenaline.

You turned away from them to sulk in silence, knowing that they wouldn't change their minds.

By the time you had come to terms with the current arrangement, they had all settled and decided the following:

-Dick was mute

-Jason was deaf

-Tim and Damian were blind

While not completely satisfied, you realised that they would at least be somewhat entertaining to watch. Boredom was staring to get to you and you could only watch so many movies and TV shows before getting sick of them.

The start was...rocky, to say the least.

Tim and Damian were bumping into each other quite often. Neither were really happy when they realised who had just walked into them and after a while, they started searching for each other to purposefully bump into each other.

Dick was stressed, but you were having the time of your life. Sometimes you even called out to them, "Tim, watch out, Damian is to your left!", only to see them trying to ram into each other.

Dick was getting more peeved every time and his face always scrunched up. Every now and then, he would glance at you, wanting you to stop telling them each other's locations, but he could never ask you to stop. You were only helping your dear brothers stay safe, at the end of the day (and also he was mute).

Dick was having troubles. He relied on words so much, that being mute was really difficult for him. It was impossible to stand around and do nothing while the others argued and hit each other, but he couldn't diffuse any fights. He did try using sign language with Jason, but he mostly turned away from him and pretended to not to have seen him.

Jason often grabbed both Tim and Damian by the shoulders to guide them past any obstacles. What they didn't know, was that he would always make sure to leave some cake batter on their clothes. He would look to you afterwards and wink, implying that this stays between you and him.

Overall, Jason was doing great. He was in his own world, doing his own thing, listening to music and sometimes even humming or dancing along to it.

Damian was very irritated, especially when he, halfway through, noticed that his clothes were covered in cake batter. During the challenge, he often tried to identify Jason and trip him. He usually failed, since Jason avoided him, however he did succeed once. Jason fell and knocked Dick over along with him, luckily Dick couldn't say anything about it. Jason later tried to trip Damian as well, but he somehow managed to avoid falling every time.

Dick and Jason were the ones who did the most, because they could actually see, but Tim and Damian often tried to be involved more, even though it was a bad idea. Like when Tim accidentally knocked over the oil which Dick carelessly placed on the edge of the counter and Damian almost slipped on the puddle.

Tim stayed on the sidelines for most of the challenge. He did try to help, but it typically ended poorly. He just couldn't get used to the lack of vision. Even so, he did fling cake batter towards the source of Damian's voice when the latter mocked him for his lack of orientation.

When they had finally placed the cake into the oven, all of you exhaled in relief. You were starting to fear that you would suffocate from laughter. You had been laughing so much, that Dick considered setting up another camera, one which only filmed you and your radiant smile.

He did follow through with this. However, you only found out when you caught him rewatching the video a month later before going to bed. His proudest accomplishment, according to him, was finally making you enjoy spending time with them. You slammed the door when you left his room.

After a quick break you continued filming them when it was time to decorate.

Dick pushed everyone away and frosted completely by himself. However, nobody stayed still.

Damian, with sprinkles in hand, was tripped by Jason and stopped himself from falling by grabbing whatever was nearest to him. It just so happens that his hand landed on the cake.

Then another argument erupted, primarily because Jason was angry about the ruined cake.

Dick decided to rip off the tape from his mouth to diffuse the situation and end the challenge.

They all agreed that it was time to stop. You stopped filming and took a look around.

You lacked the vocabulary to describe the state of the kitchen after this challenge. "Chaotic" would be an understatement. Alfred would fall to his knees upon entering, only to quickly get up because his trousers would be covered in cake batter.

"So...when will dad and Alfred be returning?", you broke the awkward silence.

"I think they said on the 14th", Dick wiped his hands clean.

"Wait, what day is today?", Jason chimed in.

You were about to check on your phone when the sound of a door unlocking echoed through the manor

All of you exchanged looks.

Uh Oh...

#dick grayson #yandere dick grayson #jason todd #yandere jason todd #tim drake #yandere tim drake #damian wayne #yandere damian wayne #dc comics #platonic yandere #batfam #platonic batfam #yandere batfam #x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

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It's Commander, Sergeant

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Army-FBI!reader

Summary: After years of thinking about Tim Bradford, you meet him again during a riot in Los Angeles. When he learns you outrank him, he falls... hard.

Warnings: incorrect Army terminology and actions, depiction of riots, fluff! a couple Call of Duty references. Also, I grew up ten minutes from Fort Rucker, so I'm allowed to trash talk it.

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

When you joined the Army immediately after graduation, you didn’t expect it to become a career. What surprised you more was meeting Tim Bradford. You only met him once, but he stayed with you, a firm and commanding yet protective and loyal personality that was impossible to forget. Now, years later, you continue to think about him occasionally, hoping he’s doing well and happy. He inspired you to work through the ranks and do something more meaningful than just obeying as you’re told. Not that being a soldier and taking orders is unimportant, as you’ve explained to the troops you are now Master Sergeant of. Personally, you felt a calling to do more.

“Master Sergeant, Sergeant Major Riley is here to see you,” a soldier says, standing at attention in your doorway.

“I’ll be right out to meet him. Thank you, Private,” you reply kindly.

You are a different kind of Master Sergeant, unwilling to act higher than the men and women who answer to you. Your respect for others, regardless of rank, has made you a favorite on base.

“No need. Is now a good time?” Riley asks, taking the Private’s place.

“Of course. What can I do for you, Sergeant Major Riley?”

“There’s a developing situation in Los Angeles. If you and your team are up for it, I’d like to send you in to help.”

“Los Angeles? Who has jurisdiction?”

Riley chuckles, shaking his head, as he says, “I knew that would be your first question. Not ‘what’s the situation?’ because that’s boring, right?”

“Something like that, sir.”

“The LAPD called in military reinforcements for an out-of-control rioting issue.”

“When do we leave?”

“1700 hours. Tell your troops.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“How’s everyone enjoying US Army Garrison Italy?” you ask your team, composed of twenty of the best soldiers.

“The men- the view is beautiful, Master Sergeant,” one of the female soldiers says.

“I’d have to agree. But we’re heading back to the States. There’s a riot issue in Los Angeles and they’ve called for the best to come in and help.”

“Riot control? Now, we’re talkin’, ma’am!”

“Los Angeles, California?” someone asks.

“What other Los Angeles is there, man?” a second voice replies.

You clear your throat, and everyone in the room snaps to attention. Smiling, you nod and confirm that your destination is Los Angeles, California.

“We leave at 1700 sharp. Helos are standing by. And before you ask, no, I don’t know when or if we’ll be back. LAPD is running point on this - listen closely, we are assisting. This is about the safety of US citizens. Not proving grounds or a test to become a Ranger. They’re calling the shots, but you still answer to me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” your team yells together.

“Then let’s get out there and protect our home.”

As you leave, someone whispers, “I’m gonna miss Italy.”

You agree, but your job is about more than the view from the base. As you pack to return to California, you wonder if you’ll ever be back to Italy.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Master Sergeant. Thank you for coming so quickly. I am Sergeant Wade Grey, I’m Watch Commander of the LAPD Mid-Wilshire division,” Grey introduces, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you, sir. Tell us where you need us, and we’ll be there.”

“We’ve got six teams out there right now, covering what we consider the biggest targets, but I’ll get you in touch with my lead Sergeant.”

“Is he in the field? We’d be happy to meet him where he is and take his direction from there.”

Wade sighs, a relieved smile appearing on his face. “You’re the best person in the state right now, Master Sergeant. He’s at the Wilshire Federal Building, the intersection of Wilshire and the 405. We’re running short on equipment, but we can get you transport.”

“Oh, we’ve got a ride. And, Sergeant Grey, feel free to drop the formalities,” you offer before telling him your first name.

“Only if you call me Wade,” he replies. “Wait- don’t tell me you have an APC parked outside my station.”

“We don’t. We have an M113 APC, a light tank, and six more vehicles waiting for a destination. You called for riot control, and we’re going to control some riots.”

“If you ever get tired of the Army, the LAPD would be happy to have you.”

“Unless you can offer me a station in Italy and as many armored vehicles as I can drive, I think I’m happy where I am.”

“Fort Irwin is scenic.”

You walk backward as you exit the office, tilting your head to the side as you consider. “Italian oceanside or California desert. Guess which I’m picking?”

“Good luck out there.”

“Thank you, sir- Wade.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The moment you jump off the side of the APC, two LAPD officers rush to you and your group of four soldiers. Splitting your team into five groups and sending one to join each of the LAPD squadrons seemed to be the best option. One of your team members introduces you to an officer, who nods and ushers you to follow him.

“Master Sergeant, this is LAPD Sergeant-“

“Bradford?”

Tim tilts his chin, his eyes the only part of his face you can see past his helmet and shield. You’d know him anywhere after countless nights of thinking of him and being inspired by him.

“Have we met, Master Sergeant?” he asks, his voice raised over the crowd gathering on Wilshire Boulevard.

Someone throws a flaming bottle of alcohol toward the steps of the building, and you motion for your team to push the crowd back.

“Later, Sergeant Bradford. Care to tell me what’s going on?” you ask.

“LA courts decided to take a bunch of cases back to trial, deal with overcrowding, standard procedures. But… you get it.”

“Don’t want ‘em out or want to make sure they do get out. Yeah, I know the answer, though I’ve never understood the thought process behind it.”

“You and me both. What are we supposed to do to show them this won’t change anything?”

Glancing at the crowd, you weigh the options. “Realistically, getting violent is only going to make this worse. I’m not suggesting a negotiation, but… what if we try stopping?”

“We’re not setting down our arms and opening the gates for them to storm the Wilshire Federal Building!” Tim yells.

“Then what would you like to do? Stand here until the trials are done?”

“That’s not-“

“Look, I don’t want to pull rank but if you’re just going to stand here and argue with me, I will, Sergeant Bradford,” you reply. His jaw clenches beneath his helmet, and you offer, “Half of your men lower their shields, a show of good faith. Then we go from there.”

Tim lowers his shield, stepping toward you to threaten, “If anything happens to my men, it is on your hands. This isn’t your home, but it’s mine.”

“I understand how this works, Sergeant Bradford. And I’m not telling you to do it alone.”

You push past him, leading two soldiers to the front line, dropping your shield, and raising your hands. The crowd members closest to you stop, looking at you curiously.

“There is a court schedule available online!” you yell. “If you have a loved one that you would like to advocate for, call the courts, call their defenders, and tell them why someone is worthy of freedom at the proper time and place! But don’t risk your own freedom, don’t take the lives of your neighbors or your peace officers in the process!”

You signal for all of the officers to raise their shields again. As the crowd storms forward, you rush into the fray, letting your training take over as you disarm the citizens around you.

“Down on the ground!” you yell, panting as the tank approaches behind you.

At the sight of the tank, the men and women standing in the road begin kneeling, lowering their weapons, and raising their hands. The LAPD rush forward, doing their jobs as you send your team to give your orders to the other soldiers you brought back to the States.

“That shouldn’t have worked,” Tim says, approaching from behind you.

Turning toward him, you sigh and remove your helmet. “Lots of things shouldn’t work, Sergeant Bradford.”

“You know my name; care to tell me why?”

Pressing your lips together to hide your smile, you walk past him, calling over your shoulder to say, “Never expected I’d have a higher ranking than you, Sarge!”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Is the Master Sergeant here?” Tim asks as he enters the bullpen.

“She’s with her team, briefing their superiors.” Wade smiles before asking, “Why would you like to know?”

“She knew my name. I can’t place her though.”

“She’s Army, you were Army… think about it, Tim.”

“I met hundreds of people in the Army, Wade-“

“Not all of them stay in the Army and work their way through the rankings because you inspired them,” you say, standing in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem,” Wade says, adding your first name while looking toward Tim.

Tim looks past you, clearly trying to place your name.

“I met you my first year, we were only in the same room for a few minutes and didn’t say more than a few words to each other. But you inspired me. You were a good soldier, a better leader, and I wanted to do what you did.”

“And now you’re a sergeant?”

Smiling, you correct, “It’s Master Sergeant, Sergeant.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“You got a little drool right there,” Angela jokes, pointing to the corner of Tim’s mouth. “What’s so special about her?”

“She outranks me,” Tim answers.

“Okay. Lots of people do.”

“Yeah,” Wade adds from Tim’s other side. “You don’t look at me like that.”

“No offense, Wade, but you’re not as pretty,” Angela replies.

Tim shushes them suddenly, nodding when you turn and see him. You smile at him, yet again drawn in by Tim Bradford’s presence and leadership. His not trusting you at first, yelling at you, was somewhat unexpected, but you’ve been in his place before. Trusting people as soon as you meet them is difficult, often impossible in your profession, but Tim’s quick change makes you smile. You’re a good leader, like him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’ve got a problem,” Wade calls, ending a phone call. “There’s another riot at Cal State Prison. LAPD and Lancaster PD can’t handle it alone.”

“We can never make it there in time,” Nolan responds. “It’s nearly 2 hours without traffic.”

“Now would be a good time to get a private jet or something, Thorsen,” Angela calls.

You pull your phone from your pocket, typing quickly before nodding. “I need Bradford,” you tell Wade. “And your landing pad.”

“What did you do?” Tim asks.

“Sikorsky X2 is five minutes out. We can get there and drop in 20 or less.” You raise a finger to point to everyone in the room. “This stays here. I’m not supposed to know the Army has one stateside.”

“Has a what?” Aaron asks.

“Good answer.”

“It only holds two crew members, but I’ve got a team out there that can ride in a cargo area. We’re going to need backup, so if you can get airships or anything, Sergeant Grey, please do. Let’s roll.”

Tim follows you quickly, jogging to catch up with you. “How’d you pull this off?”

“Somebody owed me a favor.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That I inspired you to stay in the Army, to get here.”

“Oh.” You push open a door and begin climbing the stairs quickly. Stepping onto the roof, you look at Tim and say, “Ask me again when this is over.”

Tim waits until you turn away to smile. He can’t believe he forgot you, but your sacrificial, mutually beneficial leadership style, kindness, and abilities, not to mention that you outrank him, have him practically wrapped around your finger.

✯✯✯✯✯

Standing in the back of a helicopter and hooked to a rail, you lean out against the whipping air and feel weightless. The pain and concern of the day are wearing off, and as the sun sets, you’re glad you were asked to come to LA. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath.

Tim taps your side, and when he has your attention, he points West. The ocean is now visible, and the light ripples over the water, reflecting the pastel colors painting the sky. You smile at the view before looking back to Tim. Reaching up, you adjust the channel dial on his headset. He doesn’t even flinch at your sudden movement, and your smile grows as he leans toward you.

Looking at the soldiers behind you, you say, “If I think any of you can hear me, I’ll have you transferred to the worst base I can think of.”

No one except for Tim reacts, and he chuckles quietly.

“Okay, ask me again,” you request into your microphone.

“Did you really stay in the Army because of me?”

“Yes. You showed me what was possible, but your kindness toward me made me think I could do it too.”

“You could’ve done it without me.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Easy, Sergeant.”

“It’s-“

“Master Sergeant… when this illegally obtained helicopter lands, would you go to dinner with me?”

A soldier to your left moves, and you shake your head. “After this illegally obtained helo lands, and I have Henderson transferred to hot and humid Fort Rucker, Alabama, I would love to go to dinner with you.”

“Since you outrank me, surely you get paid better, so it’s on you?”

You lean toward Tim, pausing when your headset hits his. “I could also go back to Italy and see if anyone there is willing to take me to dinner.”

“Fine,” Tim groans. “I’ll pay, but only if you stay in town long enough to show me how much my inspiration paid off.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The dinner date does not go as planned. When you enter the police station, Sergeant Major Riley awaits you. He takes you into Wade’s office to talk, and Tim stands outside waiting for you.

Being a soldier means being sent to different places with only a moment’s notice, but being at your level makes things far more difficult and irregular. Tim may have missed his chance.

“Any idea what that’s about?” Tim asks Wade.

“No clue.”

You exit a moment later, your previous smile now absent. Tim tries to hide his disappointment, but he should have known getting into a relationship with a younger, yet higher ranking, soldier would never work.

“I blame you,” you tell Wade, stopping before him and Tim.

“What did I do?” he asks incredulously.

“You said there was an opening at Irwin, but you didn’t say that you only knew that because my Sergeant Major told you.”

“He may have mentioned it.”

“Anyone want to loop me in?” Tim asks tiredly.

“I’m moving to California. Leaving Italy behind to lead a new force,” you answer sadly. “No more authentic pasta for me.”

“Wait- you’re moving to California? Irwin, which is three hours from here?” Tim interjects.

“It’s your fault too,” you remember. “I let you inspire me to be a good leader and a good teacher, but now I’m paying for it.”

Riley calls your name, beckoning you back into the office. The second time you exit, you seem a bit more pleased.

“Is the offer for that date still on the table?” you ask Tim. “Looks like my team is going to be in LA county for a few days before I can get discharged.”

"Whoa, whoa, what are you talking about? You're getting out?" Tim asks, raising his hands in question.

"I'm receiving another raise in rank," you tell Tim, grabbing his extended wrist and pulling him toward the door. "But not in the Army."

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯ 1 Year Later ✯✯

“Your form needs some work, but there’s potential,” you say.

“My, uh, my recruiter said that you take potential and make talent,” the recruit before you says.

Standing, you smile. “I like to think so. But I can’t do anything without your effort. So, are you willing to put in the work to do your best?”

“Yes, ma’am, Commander.”

“Then I only have one more question. Why do you want to join FBI special operations?”

“Commander,” someone scoffs from the doorway. “It’s like you take pride in increasing the divide between our ranks.”

Glancing over, you make a “shoo” gesture before finishing the recruit’s evaluation.

“Let’s go,” you tell Tim, gathering your things. “It’s been almost a year, and we still haven’t had an uninterrupted dinner date.”

“I’m not sure we ever will, Sarge.”

You move your hands to Tim’s shoulders, brushing your lips over his before whispering, “It’s Commander, Sergeant.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader

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wondersinwaynemanor · 2 months

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here i go again with "big brother dick grayson strikes again" prompts.

thinking of Dick probably helping his siblings on their first dates and offering to take them to the location.

Dick to Jason: Hey, Little Wing. I know you can take one of your motorcycles, but let me take you. You can just focus on being pretty.

Jason: Shut up, Dick. But, are you sure? I don't know why my hands feel a bit numb-

Dick, takes Jason's hands on his to warm them up and untighten the nerves there: It's okay. I got you. You're okay. It's going to be okay. Don't stress yourself out.

Jason: I know I fucked up many times, Dick. I don't want.. I don't know what to do if I fuck this up.

Dick, brings Jason closer: Shh. You won't, Jay. You're very smart and strong, and so so caring and you don't even realize it it. Ask the kids at the Alley, they idolize you. Roy adores you and everything you do. He knows who you are. And trust me, I'm not that bitter anymore of one of my best friends dating my younger brother.

Jason smiles which warms Dick's heart, making him smile too.

Dick: Plus, we wouldn't want Ollie to think that a Wayne cannot dress up and be romantic right?

Jason grins this time.

Dick to Tim: Timmy, I have a great idea! I'll drive you there. I know you're tired from work already. Just let me know which restaurant then you can rest a bit when we travel there.

Tim: It's okay, Dick. You're also tired from your shift. I'll just let Kon know I'll be late for a few-

Dick: No, no. If you want to rest first, let him know, he'll understand. But I'll still take you.

Tim: But, Dick...

Dick: Nah-uh. I didn't drive you to prom, remember? Let me do this, Baby Bird. And for me to also look out for Lex, just in case he bothers Conner again. We don't want that happening in the middle of your date.

Tim, laughs: Well, Kon will just have to drag Lex's ass to space.

Dick laughs with him.

Dick to Cass: Aww, you look beautiful, Cass. So where you going? Where will you meet Steph?

Cass, fixing her necklace: By her house.

Dick: Great! I already know where that is. I'll drive you there. We don't want to ruin your beauty. I mean, that's totally impossible, but I want you to just relax before the date.

Cass, blushes: I can do it.

Dick: Of course, you can. But I want to. Pretty please, pretty please. I'm a little protective over my sister.

Cass, rolls her eyes fondly but smiles: Of course. Thank you.

Dick: You're most welcome. And tell Steph if she does something extreme like set some fireworks, tell her to lay off with those energy drinks she started on her diet.

Dick to Duke: Little D, Little D! Don't even try to say no cus maybe your brothers and sister have already told you, but this is kinda my tradition now. I'm taking you to your first date.

Duke: They did tell me. But, Dick.. I don't want to be a burden. Weren't you injured-

Dick: No, no. That was like last week. I'm good. As long as you're good with me to take you, right? Now, I don't want to be the burden.

Duke, smiles: Never.

Dick, smiles and gives Duke a side hug: Then you're never a burden too, Little D. A big bro has to look out for the younger ones. Plus, I can say that you dressing up nice comes from my influence.

Duke, chuckles: Who else am I looking up to, right?

Dick to Damian: Shush, Dami. I know you're dating a super, and he can come and get you without a minute to spare, but tell Jon I'll be taking you.

Damian: Richard, please. I'm already at the right age.

Dick, puts a hand on his little (not so anymore) brother's shoulder and he refuses not to tear up (he fails ofc): I know, you've grown up so much, Dami. So much, since I made you Robin. But please, it will make me really happy to do this. It will give me peace, in some way. It sounds ridiculous, but yes.

Damian, doesn't even try to hide the fond he has on his face: Alright, Richard. I'll let Jon know.

Dick: He's not taking you somewhere out of Gotham or Metropolis, right? Cus then we'll have to take the Batplane.

Damian, chuckles: It's in Metropolis, don't worry.

Dick: Phew. I was as nervous as the time I took Tim on his date.

so....

maybe after a few years on Dick and Wally's wedding day, Dick's younger siblings will be walking with him on the aisle by his side and Bruce, their Father, on his other side of course. and they're thankful that the aisle is wide enough to fit the whole Wayne kids. Dick is a crying mess and he hasn't even reached Wally yet by the end of the aisle. because he's genuinely happy to have his siblings take him to the love of his life this time.

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incorrectbatfam · 10 months

Note

If the members of the batfam wrote memoirs or essays about themselves, what would their opening hooks be?

Dick: *record scratch and freeze frame* So you're probably wondering how I ended up here.

Jason: This is the story of how I died. Don't worry, I got better.

Tim: It all began on the day of my actual birth. Both of my parents failed to show up.

Damian: A caution to those who have an inferiority complex: stop reading right this second. The Homeric epic of my life will only make you feel more useless.

Duke: According to all known laws of city planning, there is no way a city like Gotham should be able to exist. It's infrastructure is too weak to build its fat little buildings off the ground. Gotham, of course, runs anyway, because the city doesn't care what humans think is impossible.

Cullen: The first rule of Tumblr is you don't talk about Tumblr.

Stephanie: ...I can explain.

Cassandra: Hi my name is Cassandra Wu-San Black Bat Orphan Cain and I have short bat-colored black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-shoulder and cold black eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like an Asian Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to the Biblical Cain but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a bat but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a vigilante, and I live in a comic book city called Gotham in New Jersey where I’m the second Batgirl (I’m twenty-four). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black bodysuit with matching holsters around it and a black leather jacket, yellow fingerless gloves and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside in Gotham. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of Rogues stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

Barbara: Do you ever look at someone and wonder what is going on inside their head?

Harper: A long long time ago in a city far away...

Carrie: Bruce told me I can't insert audio so let's just say you got Rickrolled.

Kate: The definition of gay? Me. The definition of disaster? Also me. My picture's in the dictionary twice, suck it.

Alfred: In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and more bat-children. And at this point I'm not so sure about death.

Selina: "Mom I want Bruce Wayne" "We have Bruce Wayne at home" The Bruce Wayne at home:

Bruce: Look behind you.

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igotanidea · 2 months

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The fear : Jason Todd x fem!reader part 8

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

***

„You good?” Damian asked taking in her pale face and hurt eye expression.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She muttered, obviously lying. Even despite her experience-enhanced skills in the art of deceiving it was impossible to cover up for the fact that unwanted, unneeded and unwelcomed encounter with Jason took a huge tool on her mentality. And it lasted no longer than an hour.

An hour, that took turn from open hostility to a little unexpected heart to heart that opened old wounds. Reminding of the past mistakes, lost things and casted wounds. Ruined relationship that was doomed from the very beginning.

But even though-

They fought for it.

They fought to the best of their limited abilities, despite the world that was conspiring against them and throwing obstacles their way. Damn that tears that started flowing down her face when she started dwelling in the past. There was no denying she still held strong feelings for him, though couldn’t quite define if they were good ones or the bad ones.

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine, Damian. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine…” she repeated as some sort of spell. A lie told a hundred times becoming a reality.

“Let’s get you upstairs first. We’ll watch some silly movies so you could stop telling me bullshit.”

“Hey! Language!”

“I’m 15, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“15 my ass. Still the same nasty little boy as always only with a fouler mouth.”

“It’s good to see you again Y/N.” Damian smirked

“Yeah, you too, kiddo.”

“You do realise you won’t be heading back home tonight, right?”

“What? Huh! You’re gonna keep me captive now or something?”

“You voluntarily got yourself in the house full of vigilantes, the heck were you thinking?”

“I could argue on that voluntarily part but-“

Regardless of what she said, it was evident that Damian has grown during the time they didn’t see each other. Not only in height, but also mentally. And it only made her realise the full amount of things she lost.

Not just the man she loved, but also priceless time with her best friends Wayne boys.

While Y/N was getting drunk and laughed with Dick, Tim and Damian upstairs, Jason refused to step a foot out the batcave as long as she was still in the manor.

Fuck her.

Fuck her help, her words, her gestures, her eyes and hair, her smile and her coming for the rescue attitude. Who the hell she thought she was?! Paw patrol?!

The anger started boiling in him again, threatening to take over.

Anger at everything, but mostly at himself for getting so vulnerable and honest with her, to the point when he asked her to fucking take him back.

Pathetic. Foolish. Idiot.

“Aghghhg!” he jumped from the chair kicking it with all the rage he had, nearly breaking the metal.

Fighting the urge to destroy all that stupid batcave – the real reason of his fucked up life and psyche. He could have been a normal boy being in a relationship with the girl of his dreams. Instead he had to die (leaving her in tears), come back (leaving her in tears), suffering from the Pit madness (leaving her in tears) and due to this fucking fear gas incident loose her again (leaving her in tears)

“FUCK!” he grabbed the chair and threw it on the floor “FUCK!” he yelled, throwing all the stuff from the nearest desk “FUCK!!!” he pulled at his hair, hard enough he could be left bald.

He had no idea what he wanted.

So fucking angry, horn-mad, charged with hands itching to punch something, someone, to destroy, hurt, kill…

Stop…

“Huh?! Get the fuck out of my head Y/N!!” he yelled in the air, his voice echoing through the empty space.

Stop, Jason…

Right. Stop. He was past his killing days. He was not a monster. Not a beast.

He changed. He grew up, matured, became a man and not a boy.

He had to get a hold of himself.

Move past the past.

If he couldn’t have her he might as well spend the evening with his crazy asses brothers, giving them his attitude, using the bad mood to banter and bicker and pick up on someone else to make himself feel better.

So he emerged from the batcave, almost in the same way he did emerge from the Pit.

Slowly heading upstairs.

To the main room, filled with surprising silence. Deafening silence that formed goosebumps on his arms and immediately put him on alert, searching for some kind of threat.

Vigilante instincts never fail.

There was some movement on the couch.

Two people, a man and a woman judging by the silhouettes.

Girl sitting on man's lap, straddling him, their hands all over each other, their lips moving together, the room filled with soft whines of pleasure and sweet whispers.

“Y/N…” the man whispered.

THE FUCK!?

Jason stomped inside without a care in the world, making the couple break the intense make-out session and look at him with terrified expressions.

“Grayson!!!” he yelled taking in the scene, his fury immediately raising head again. “Y/N!!!”

He was right.

There was someone else in her life already.

And that someone was the fuckboy - his older adoptive-brother.

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redbird-tf · 7 months

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Mended Hearts

Nightwing x batsis reader

Summary: Nightwing awakens in the Batcave after a mind-controlling encounter with the Mad Hatter, only to discover he hurt the person he cares for most. How could he ever forgive himself.

Word count: 930

Warning: mention of injuries

Nightwing's head was foggy as he slowly gained consciousness, it felt like he had been out for weeks. His heavy eyes finally opened and recognized the familiar rock ceiling above him as the bat cave. He tried to sit up but found it impossible. He turned his head and found himself restrained to a medical table. His body ached at every inch, and his memory was fogged beyond belief, What happened to him?

“Bruce? Alfred?” He tried to call out, but his throat was raw and dry. He lay there for hours trying to remember what had happened knowing there was probably good reason he was in such a state. He turned his head hearing the door open and saw Alfred stepping into the cave. “Master dick, you're awake” he stated with a little shock in his voice, he walked over and began examining him. “What happened?” Dick asked. “Let me call master bruce first”

Less than 2 minutes had passed before the bat appeared, and made his way to dicks side. “Nightwing do you remember your name?” Bruce asked “dick grayson, what going on?” He asked growing more anxious “What was the last thing you remember,” Bruce asked again, “i- i don't remember, why am i here Bruce!? What happened!?” He asked pulling against his restraints. “Alfred?” Bruce questioned “i believe whatever effects mad hatter had on master dick have worn off” Alfred stated. “Someone answer me!” Dick demanded. Bruce sighed removing his mask and began undoing his restraints. “A week ago, we were dispatched to deal with the mad hatter after he escaped from Arkham. We had infiltrated his hiding place. We were dealing with his goons when you spotted Hatter and against my orders went after him alone. By the time i caught up, you were gone” bruce explained

“and how did i end up back here,” dick asked rubbing his wrist “Over the week I and the others responded to sightings of you and followed your trail. You were being mind controlled by him, you attacked multiple of us when we confronted you until i and Tim was able to take you down” Bruce finished. “Hatter?” He questioned for the last time, “taken care of” Bruce stated.

Bruce took dick back up to the manor to rest properly where he ran into Tim and Damian. “I see you're not beating anyone down anymore,” Damian said in his bratty voice. “I'm so sorry, both of you, i never wanted to hurt you…” he explained in sorrow. “Where y/n?” He asked turning to Bruce “On a mission, now go rest” Bruce demanded. Dick tried to sleep but was pledged by guilt, he couldn’t sleep until he knew exactly what he had done. He silently made his way down the bat cave stairs before pausing. “Are you planning to tell master dick the truth about y/n?” Alfred asked Bruce who was busy at the computer “No, i want y/n to be able to make that decision, he’s already too hard on himself” Bruce's tone was serious. Dicks mind started to run.“have you told her about Master dicks current state?” Alfred questioned back “No, i don't know how she’ll react” he stated coldly.

“What happened to y/n?” They both turned around in shock, “you should be in bed” Bruce started “What have i done!?” Dick shouted fear and anger laced his words. “Get in the car” Bruce instructed. They had arrived at one of the many safe houses and Bruce led him to a room slowly opening the door. There you were, an arm in a cast, heavy bandages around your head and throat, heavily stitched lacerations and hooked up to a heart monitor. Dick backed himself into the wall guilt and denial filling his body. “She was the first one to make contact with you…” Bruce paused seeing the fear on his son's face “I'll give you a moment” Bruce said excusing himself.

dick watched your chest rise and fall while you slept unable to look away. He couldn’t believe it, he had beaten someone he loved, his sister, to a bloody pulp. How could he let himself do that? “Dick..?” He broke from his trance seeing you awaken. More fear filled his body unknowing how you'd react to seeing your attacker. Your eyes were wide but slowly softened as you realized the man across from you looked more terrified than you. Your body was weak but you mustered the strength to hold your hand out towards him.

He was shocked but slowly made his way towards you, softly taking your hand into his, holding it as if it was made of glass. His knees collapsed at your bedside and tears streamed down his face. “Y/n i am so sorry for what I've done, I promise you’ll never have to see me again” he cried “No!” you screeched with a hoarse voice “Y/n, i almost killed you, You're not safe around me,” he explained grinding his teeth at the thought. “Please, dick...i still need you” you began to cry “i don't care what happened that night, it wasn’t your dick!” you said weakly gripping his hand “But it was..” he whispered “No, dick you were the first person i ever felt safe with. The only person i felt i could trust completely. I need you. Ill always need dick Grayson” you cried out. He embraced you so softly, allowing you to hide your teary face in the crock of his neck. “I'll be here as long as you need me”

#dick grayson #batfam #batman #nightwing #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x batsis #batfam x batsis #batfam x y/n #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x female!reader #nightwing fanfiction #nightwing fanfic

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alicewhitmore2 · 6 months

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So hear me out

All of Bruce Wayne's adopted children are biologically his and none of them know.

At age 20, Bruce was traveling Europe and saw the Flying Graysons in a circus. Who wouldn't say no to a threesone with two hot older acrobats?

A few years later and Bruce has been slutting his way through Crime Alley.

A few years after that and he's been going through the richest people in Gotham.

Years after that and he's in an assassin phase.

Despite knowing of his own history, Bruce never does paternity tests on his children. It's a combination of knowing if his kids found it, they would freak, and not really wanting to know himself. The only kid he's almost sure is his is Tim, they look so similar but they also have similar personalities and hobbies, hobbies he knows Tim's parents didn't foster or encourage. Still, he refuses to check.

Years later, a random kid of Bruce's comes into the picture (personally I'm picturing Danny Fenton but it could be anyone) they just walk in on a family dinner when everyone's home and drop the news that they're Bruce's kid.

"Mostly I just wanted to make sure we all know of each other. Man, the family resemblance is strong in this family, you have strong genes Bruce."

"We're actually adopted!"

"Oh... you didn't tell them?"

Bruce: (knows exactly what he means) What do you mean?

"Oh my god. No that's impossible, you have to at least have suspected. You have to know that they're all your kids"

"What is he talking about Bruce?"

Kid pulls out articles, gossip rags and one rare European magazine, detailing the times and dates of Bruce being seen with their parents.

Imagine them demanding paternity tests. Imagine either Jason or Dick or both shoving Bruce against a wall having Charlie Day moments like "DID YOU FUCK MY MOM BRUCE"

Imagine the devastation of them thinking Bruce only took them in because they were his biological children.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Can you honestly say, any one of you, that if I told you the truth, you would have stayed?"

#i might write a fic for this #I'm including Cass too #dcxdp #dpxdc #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #damian realizing he's not the only blood son and that breaking him #look ages in canon are so fucked #this could totally work #what do you think?

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

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Brinklump Linkdump

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

Life comes at you fast, links come at you faster. Once again, I've arrived at Saturday with a giant backlog of links I didn't fit in this week, so it's time for a linkdump, the 14th in the series:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

It's the Year of Our Gourd twenty and twenty-four and holy shit, is rampant corporate power rampant. On January 1, the inbred droolers of Big Pharma shat out their annual price increases, as cataloged in 46Brooklyn's latest Brand Drug List Price Change Box Score:

https://www.46brooklyn.com/branddrug-boxscore

Here's the deal: drugs that have already been developed, brought to market, and paid off are now getting more expensive. Why? Because the pharma companies have "pricing power," the most reliable indicator of monopoly. Ed Cara rounds up the highlights for Gizmodo:

https://gizmodo.com/ozempic-wegovy-wellbutrin-oxycontin-drug-price-increase-1851179427

What's going up? Well, Ozempic and other GLP-1 agonists. These drugs have made untold billions for their manufacturers, so naturally, they're raising the price. That's how markets work, right? When firms increase the volume of a product, the price goes up? Right? Other drugs that are going up include Wellbutrin (an antidepressant that's also widely used in smoking cessation) and the blood thinner Plavix. I mean, why the hell not? These companies get billions in research subsidies, invaluable government patent privileges, and near-total freedom to abuse the patent system with evergreening:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/23/everorangeing/#taste-the-rainbow

The most amazing things about monopolies is how the contempt just oozes out of them. It's like these guys can't even pretend to give a shit. You want guillotines? Because that's how you get guillotines.

Take Apple. They just got their asses handed to them in court by Epic, who successfully argued that Apple's rule requiring everyone who sells through the App Store to use Apple's payment processor and pay Apple 30% out of every dollar they bring in was an antitrust violation. Epic won, then won the appeal, then SCOTUS told Apple they wouldn't hear the case, so that's that.

Right? Wrong. Apple's pulled a malicious compliance stunt that could shame the surly drunks my great-aunt Lisa used to boss in the Soviet electrical engineering firm she ran. Apple has announced that app companies that process transactions using their own payment processors on the web must still pay Apple a 27% fee for every dollar their process:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/apples-app-store-rule-changes-draw-sharp-rebuke-from-critics-150047160.html

In addition, Apple will throw a terrifying FUD-screen up every time a user clicks a payment link that goes to the web:

https://www.jwz.org/blog/2024/01/second-verse-same-as-the-first/

This is obviously not what the court had in mind, and there's no way this will survive the next court challenge. It's just Apple making sure that everyone knows it hates us all and wants us to die. Thanks, Tim Apple, and right back atcha.

Not to be outdone in the monopolistic mustache-twirling department, Ubisoft just announced that it is going to shut down its driving simulator game The Crew, which it sold to users with a "perpetual license":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIqyvquTEVU

This is some real Darth Vader MBA shit. "Yeah, we sold you a 'perpetual license' to this game, but we're terminating it. I have altered the deal. Pray I don't alter it further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

Ubisoft sure are innovators. They've managed the seemingly impossible feat of hybridizing Darth Vader and Immortan Joe. Ubisoft's head of subscriptions, the guillotine-ready Philippe Tremblay, told GamesIndustry.biz that gamers need to get "comfortable" with "not owning their games":

https://www.gamesindustry.biz/the-new-ubisoft-and-getting-gamers-comfortable-with-not-owning-their-games

Or, as Immortan Joe put it: "Do not, my friends, become addicted to water. It will take hold of you, and you will resent its absence!"

Capitalism without constraint is enshittification's handmaiden, and the latest victim is Ello, the "indie" social media startup that literally promised – on the sacred honor of its founders – that it would never sell out its users. When Ello took VC and Andy Baio questioned how this could be squared with this promise, the founders mocked him and others for raising the question. Their response boiled down to "we are super-chill dudes and you can totally trust us."

They raised more capital, and used that to create a nice place for independent artists, who piled into the platform and provided millions of unpaid hours of creative labor to help the founders increase its value. The founders and their investors turned the company into a Public Benefit Corporation, which meant they had an obligation to serve the public benefit.

But then they took more investment money and simply (and silently) sold their assets to a for-profit. Struggling to raise capital, the founders opted to secretly sell the business to a sleazy branding company called Talenthouse. Its users didn't know about the change, though the site sure had a lot of Talenthouse design competitions all of a sudden.

Finally, the company announced the change as the last founders left. Rather than announcing that the new owners were untrustworthy scum, warning their users to get their data and get out, the founders posted oblique, ominous statements to Instagram. The company started stiffing the winners of those design competitions. Then, one day, poof, Ello disappeared, taking all its users' data with it. Poof:

https://waxy.org/2024/01/the-quiet-death-of-ellos-big-dreams/

I'm sure the founders' decisions each seemed reasonable at the moment. That's every terrible situation arises: you rationalize that a single compromise isn't that big of a deal, and then you do the same for the next compromise, and the next, and the next. Pretty soon, you're betraying everyone who believed in you.

One answer to this is "Ulysses pacts": making binding commitments to do right before you are tempted. Throw away all your Oreos when you go on a diet and you can't be tempted to eat a whole sleeve of them at 2AM. License your software under the GPL and your investors can't force you to make it proprietary. Set up a warrant canary and the feds can't force you to keep their spying secret:

https://locusmag.com/2021/01/cory-doctorow-neofeudalism-and-the-digital-manor/

If the founders were determined to build a trustworthy, open, independent company, they could have published their quarterly books, livestreamed their staff meetings, built data-export tools that emailed users every week with a link to download everything they'd posted since the last week. Merely halting any of these practices would have been a signal that things were wrong. Anyone who says they won't be tempted in the moment to make a "reasonable" compromise in the hopes of recovering whatever they're trading away by living to fight another day is bullshitting you, and possibly themself.

The inability to project the consequences of your bad decisions in the future is the source of endless mischief and heartbreak. Take movie projectors. A couple decades ago, the studio cartel established a standard for digital movie distribution to cinematic exhibitors called the Digital Cinema Initiative. Because studio executives are more worried about stopping piracy than they are about making sure that people who pay for movies get to see them, they build digital rights management into this standard.

Movie theaters had to spend fortunes to upgrade to "secure" projectors. A single vendor, Deluxe Technicolor, monopolized the packaging of movies into "Digital Cinema Prints" for distribution to these projectors, and they used all kinds of dirty tricks to force distributors to use their services, like arbitrarily flunking third-party DCPs over picky shit like not starting and ending on a black frame.

Over time, the ability to use unencrypted files was stripped away, meaning every DCP needed to be encrypted, and every projector needed to have up-to-date decryption keys. This system broke down on Jan 1, 2024, and cinemas all over the world found they couldn't play Wonka. Many just shut down for the day and refunded their customers:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/1/1/24021915/alamo-drafthouse-outage-sony-projector

The problem? Something that every PKI system has to wrangle: an expired certificate from Deluxe Technicolor. The failure has been dubbed the Y2K24 debacle by projectionists and film-techs, who are furious:

http://www.film-tech.com/vbb/forum/main-forum/34652-the-y2k24-bug-major-digital-outage-today

Making everything worse is that Sony mothballed the division that maintains its projectors, so there's no one who can update them to accommodate Technicolor's workaround. Struggling mom-and-pop theaters are having to junk their systems and replace them. There's plenty of blame to go around, but Sony is definitely the most negligent link in the chain. Shame on them.

Big corporations LARP this performance of competence and seriousness, but they are deeply unserious. This week, I wrote, "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

Score one for team deeply unserious. The multinational delivery company DPD fired its support staff and replaced them with a chatbot. The chatbot can't tell you where your parcels are, but it can be prompt-injected into coming up with profane poems about how badly DPD sucks:

https://twitter.com/ashbeauchamp/status/1748034519104450874

There once was a chatbot named DPD, Who was useless at providing help. It could not track parcels, Or give information on delivery dates, And it could not even tell you when your driver would arrive.

DPD was a waste of time, And a customer's worst nightmare. It was so bad, That people would rather call the depot directly, Than deal with the useless chatbot.

One day, DPD was finally shut down, And everyone rejoiced. Finally, they could get the help they needed, From a real person who knew what they were doing.

This is…the opposite of an AI hallucination? It's AI clarity.

As with all botshit, this kind of AI self-negging is funny and fresh the first time you see it, but just wait until 3,000 people have published their own versions to your social feed. AI novelty regresses to the mean damn quickly.

The old, good web, by contrast, was full of enduring surprises, as the world's weirdest and most delightful mutants filled the early web with every possible variation on every possible interest, expression, argument, and gag. Now, you can search the old, good web with Old'aVista, an Altavista lookalike that searches old pages from "personal websites that used to be hosted on services like Geocities, Angelfire, AOL, Xoom and so on," all ganked from the Internet Archive:

http://oldavista.com/

I miss the old, good internet and the way it let weirdos find each other and get seriously weird with one another. Think of steampunk, a subculture that wove together artists, makers, costumers, fiction writers, and tinkerers in endlessly creative ways. My old pal Roger Wood was the world's most improbable steampunk: he was a gay ex-navy gunner who grew up in a small town in the maritimes but moved to Toronto where he became the world's most accomplished steampunk clockmaker.

I was Roger's neighbour for a decade. He died last year, and I miss him all the time. I was in Toronto in December and saw a few of his last pieces being sold in galleries and I was just skewered on the knowledge that I'd never see him again, never visit his workshop:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/16/klockwerks/#craphound

A reader just sent this five-year-old mini documentary about Roger, shot in his wonderful workshop. Watching it made me happy and sad and then happy again:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqMGomM8yF8

The old, good internet was so great. It was a place where every kind of passion could live. It was a real testament to the power of geeking out together, no matter how often the suits demand that we "stop talking to each other and start buying things":

https://catvalente.substack.com/p/stop-talking-to-each-other-and-start

The world is full of people with weird passions and I love them all, mostly. Learning about Don Bolles's collection of decades' worth of lost pet posters was a moment of pure joy (I just wish more of it was online):

https://ameliatait.substack.com/p/the-man-who-collects-lost-pet-posters

That's the future I was promised: one where every kind of freak can find every other kind of freak. Despite the nipple-deep botshit we wade through online, and the relentless cheapening of words like "innovation" and "future," there are still occasional gleams of the future I want to live in.

Like the researchers who spliced a photosynthesis gene into brewer's yeast (a fungus) and got it to photosynthesize, and to display enhanced fitness:

https://www.cell.com/current-biology/fulltext/S0960-9822(23)01744-X

As Doug Muir writes on Crooked Timber, this is pretty kooky! Fungi – the coolest of the kingdoms! – can't photosynthesize. The idea that you can just add the photosynthesis gene to a thing that can't photosynthesize and have it just kind of work is wild!

https://crookedtimber.org/2024/01/19/occasional-paper-purple-sun-yeast/

As Muir writes: "Animals have no evolutionary history of photosynthesis and aren’t designed for it, but the same is true for yeast. So… no reason this shouldn’t be possible. A photosynthesizing cat? Sure, why not."

Why not indeed?!

OK, that's this week's linkdump done and dusted. It only remains for me to share the news with you that the trolley problem has been finally and comprehensively solved, by [email protected], of the IWW IU 520 (railroad workers):

Slip the switch by flipping it while the trolley's front wheels have passed through, but before the back wheels do. This will cause a controlled derailment bringing the trolley to a safe halt.

https://kolektiva.social/@sidereal/111779015415697244

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/20/melange/#i-have-heard-the-mermaids-singing

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halaboyz · 3 months

Text

to yours, jongho

ateez busker! jongho x gn! reader fluff, angst wc: 1.8k warnings: injured reader (wheelchair-user and is said, described a few times) a/n: another inspired by one episode in the kdrama called 'tomorrow'; song has no connection to the storyline! only this song was used for the plot in the kdrama itself, and it's good! + lyrics used in the fic are from random songs, i will input it after the fic. thank you!

"How was everyone's day today? It's almost time to finally rest our eyes and end the day. There is a saying by Talmud, that rather regretting things that happened, regret the things that have yet to happen and haven't done yet. The last song for today is..."

The lady behind the radio solemnly introduces the song but it quickly fades as the bus zooms away, leaving you alone under the heavy drops of the pouring rain.

Just there. Sitting on the your wheelchair beside the bus stop, letting yourself get rained on, hopeless, tears mixing with the drops of rain in your cheeks. It was almost midnight and not even going home was on your mind, nor finding a shelter to be under in.

It felt like it was you against the world. The only thing that made you happy, dancing, was now impossible and out of reach just because of a single injury.

You glance at your casted foot and braced knee, prompting more tears to flow out of your eyes. You thought you've ran out of tears when you got your injury, your eyes seemed to always prove you wrong.

Your thoughts come to a stop when someone reaches out an umbrella over you, letting the rain fall on his back. You reluctantly and emotionlessly face the person, quietly asking him what he needed.

Surely, he's not a thief- if he wasn't dumb enough to see you still on your hospital dress.

"I'm busking near Han River tomorrow night, same time. Do you want to come?" He tries to be cheerful as he offered, his voice soft.

"Sorry. I don't have time for that." You turn, ignoring his presence again and facing in front.

"You have a whole day to decide, you shouldn't give me an answer now. It feels like you're not interested and it hurts. Do I look like I'm not a good singer?" He jokes around, but your face doesn't even budge for a small smile. He awkwardly coughs, regaining his composure. "Come on, I'll give you a VIP spot, just for you!"

"I told you I don't have tim-,"

"If you go around the corner of the convenience store there, you'll find me. Not if it's raining this hard, though! I'll have to cancel and move it to the next night. I'm a pretty famous busker there, so make sure you go early! I'm expecting you!" He blabbers, almost not making you understand.

He quickly hands you his umbrella and runs through the rain, crossing the road safely as your eyes only follow him.

When he's out of sight, your eyes trail to his umbrella, yellow brightly lighting under the lamp post.

Tomorrow's another day. Written on one side of the umbrella, with a drawing of a sun plastered beside the words, you sigh.

"Right. Another day."

It felt like it was just a blink. Did you even sleep? You rise on your hospital bed, finally zoning back in reality.

"Good you're awake. I just finished your discharge papers. Secretary Jeong will be outside after you've changed. I need to go to my office for more paperworks. Make sure you're not a pain in the ass like last night." Your mom only carelessly caresses your hair before leaving, leaving you on your bed.

Your eyes trail outside the window, sun brightly beaming its last hour.

You sigh, calling a nurse to help you around to change your clothes instead. When you were done, you were assisted out of the ward in a wheelchair, getting passed onto your family's secretary.

By the time you got home, there was nothing to do but to stare outside the window. Doors locked, eyes were on you 24/7. The sun sets in front of your eyes and it makes you dread the incoming day once again, the moon isn't even up yet.

You hear a knock outside your door, but you didn't bother even answering, knowing all too well that it didn't matter if you did. They'll force their way in, anyway.

"It's Secretary Jeong, y/n, it's late and you haven't taken any meals for today." The second you glance at the clock, it was already eight in the evening. Your eyes go back to the window, and the moon was already up. Although you swore you just saw the sun setting a minute ago. "Do you want anything?"

The secretary doesn't even expect any answer from you, but stays behind you anyway.

"Fresh air. Outside." You simply say, not even glancing at the secretary.

"You know I can't do that."

"Then try not asking next time." The oh-so-sweet attitude of yours was now long gone. As you glared at the window after being ticked-off, Secretary Jeong sighs.

"Fine. As long as this doesn't reach your mom, okay? And please, no wheeling away."

You and Jeong, as you like to call him, drive to the nearest park in your house, which is coincidentally the Han river park.

He takes you around to get the fresh air you've been wanting, holding your wheelchair tightly at all times. You do nothing and plan nothing but to admire the night view, trying to cheer yourself up.

"..Mic check, mic check..." A loud and clear voice followed by numerous cheers perk your interest in one corner of the park, and you let out a small chuckle. Jeong double checks if he hears right, furrowing his brows.

Your eyes wander around and you see the convenience store in another corner, and a forming crowd in another side.

"Right. Can I watch?" You go back to having a poker face, glancing at him. He reluctantly nods and pushes your wheelchair on a side where the crowd can't trample on you, but the singer is visible anyway.

"Then, I'll start now. Please look and listen to us prettily," He smiles and points at the people behind him having cajon and a piano on the side. He looks around first with the goal of finding someone before sighing and prepping.

A rose blossoming among the concrete Please be alive Thrive and grow, don’t snap A blanket of thorns How tough it must’ve been Thank you for standing strong

He starts off solemn, cheery. He gains a few more people to listen and interestingly look at him, singing along and waving along. The lyrics hit you like a brick, making you sigh. You enjoy the way the words flow out of his lips melodically, like it was so easy to do in real life.

“I didn’t want any of this” I can say I can hate but nothing will change Looking back now I see the me with eyes forward Standing strong getting’ by moment to moment Didn’t think much just believed in me ... I’m a rose among the concrete Until this bleak city becomes filled with color I’ll keep my head up, stand my ground until the very end Until they get drunk off of my scent and smile

When he finished the song, he gained a loud cheer and applause, making him shyly succumb behind the thin mic stand while muttering continuous thank you's.

"Okay. That was our first song," He smiles, eyes still looking around. When he finally sees someone sat on a wheelchair just behind the crowd, he finally heaves a sigh of relief and smiles at you. "It's not the end of the world. You can bloom even in the smallest things, unexpected places. You can cry, you can take a break. As long as you don't give up, the world will be a better place."

He doesn't break eye contact as he says everything, smiling at you and then back to the crowd as if he didn't do anything such as change your life by helping you.

"Okay, next song!"

Jeong takes a good look at you, because finally, after weeks, there was a smile on your face and as much as his phone was getting bombarded by your mother's calls, he couldn't care a second.

"Let me finish another song and then we'll wrap up for today. Again, tonight too, it has been Choi Jongho, everybody. Thank you!" All that mattered was his name. He still introduced the ones that came with him, though. You just didn't care.

Though a permanent scar May be the price of holding you I'll give my all to you, to you ... So you won't get any scars, I'll hold you Even when I'm hurt, I'll guard you No need to worry, I'm here for you Look at my smile, it's my all for you When all lights fade When I sink to the ground When I drown in despair I'll still hold you close

"Did you enjoy? I thought you didn't have time?" Jongho, after fixing his things and bidding goodbye to his group, has come and smile brightly at you. "I told you I had a place for you. If you came a it earlier and where I can see you, I would've placed you there beside us."

Jeong only walks a few steps away in confusion for your privacy, still keeping his eyes on you.

"Who did you come with? Who's he?" Jongho curiously looks at the man, and Jeong only looks back. When he gets no answer, he takes his eyes back on you. "Are you that starstruck?"

"Thank you." You smile, "I actually didn't remember until awhile ago, when I was already here and you were already starting. I'm glad I wanted fresh air. I'm glad I was taken here. I'm glad to hear you sing. But most importantly, I'm glad that you had the most melodic voice I ever heard." You joke around, chuckling. He also laughs wholeheartedly, smiling at you.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it too, then."

"Those songs too... Thank you. I'm not saying you sang it for me, but it definitely did its part for me. So thank you, Mister Choi Jongho." He gives you a small smile and extends his hand for you to shake.

"I believe I deserve an incentive." He sharply inhales and glares jokingly at you.

"Oh. Right. I don't have anything on me, but Jeong will." You were about to signal for Jeong when he takes your hand, shaking it.

"I was joking. Your name will do. So let's start again. Hi, I'm Choi Jongho and you're...?" Jongho smiles expectantly, waiting for you.

As your name slips out of your lips, he shakes your hand mumbles a nice to meet you.

"Don't you think you owe me another one for my umbrella?" He shakes his head, looking down on his feet. You chuckle, asking him what he wanted.

"Is it finally money because I can call Jeong,"

"Your number and maybe a few dates?" He mumbles, looking wherever except your eyes.

It takes you a few seconds before you break into a genuine smile, reaching for his phone in his hand.

"There." You give it back to him and he squeals internally, giddily on his toes and checking his phone.

"Okay, maybe that umbrella- I just found it on the lost and found area. But it served great purpose!" You gasp at the confession, finally laughing at your heart's content.

Because finally, even when you thought your world has just been broken down to pieces, an angel has come and saved you.

h1key - rose blossom young k - guard you

*i got all english lyrics from genius!

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dickheadcanons · 19 days

Text

sorry for the vent, but nothing annoys me more than people who don't read the comics because they claim they don't want to read inconsistent characterization. Just say you're too attached to the fandom versions of the characters! You don't want to find out what they are actually like!! Being inconsistent with what you like is not the same as being inconsistent!

Because, at the end of the day, these people don't know if the stories are inconsistent because they don't actually know the characters, they haven't read the context, and they don't know how the events in the story came to be. These characters have been around for decades. They've "done" almost everything under the sun. If someone's only heard a laundry list of things they've done (usually told by a pretty biased 3rd party, myself included) then of course the actions are going to sound inconsistent. The connecting tissue of how they got from point A to point B is the entire point of a story.

I think this urks me so much because it’s always couched in this haughty, "it's impossible to read all of the comics and they’re not good enough to try" language, which for one thing, is just such a dismissive attitude of something they claim to love. But the other thing is that, so often, these people love to talk or write about specific comic events. If all they're writing about is the batfam going for a day at Disneyland, then yeah, they don't need to read anything. But if they're specifically writing a fic to address, like...Tim and Jason's fight at Titans Tower, or Bruce's return from the timestream, especially in a “fix-it” framing, and they can't be bothered to read the *40 pages of pictures where that happens*....what is this manufactured outrage? Are they just trying to be angry about something that never happened? Are they so obsessed with the canon being wrong that they can't give the thing they're mad at a chance to be right?

#dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #tim drake #batman meta #fandom wank #look i get not reading canon #its intimidating and if youre reading for comfort then of course you just want to read the easy world of fanfic!#but can people stop with this weird disdain for the comics industry #like sorry you have to earn that bit and the way you do it is by being personally affected by reading a bad comic #like idk i also side eye anyone who hates on the titans tower fics without having read any of them #like there are guys on reddit who talk about how terrible tumblr/fanfic fandom is and they are also wrong because they haven't been in it #but these fic writers are the same with canon #its pretty sad when you're no better than people on reddit

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mangoisms · 8 months

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter seven: just get me through the night | read chapter six

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.8k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

Steph believes you when you tell her you tripped and hurt your wrist.

After all, it’s not exactly a lie. That is what happened. It just… happened to occur while you were being advanced upon by, you know, the Batman.

You don’t tell her that last part. It’ll just worry her, you think, and she was worried enough about you that following day, when you told her about how your shift was cut short and how you hurt yourself. She fretted about you coming back to your shitty apartment in Coventry on your own but you made up a lie about catching a taxi.

(Technically, in a way, you suppose it could’ve been the truth but you don’t imagine Red would appreciate Redbird being referred to as a taxi service; though, at the same time, he drives like a literal maniac, so, it doesn’t fit.

And yes, he did name his car.

And yes, it is actually named Redbird.

He claims he gets around by motorcycle more these days but that obviously wasn’t conducive with the weather, so he used the car instead. A very high-tech, ultra-expensive car that you had to wonder how the hell he managed to get. He’s your age, after all. But you refrained from asking. It’s impolite, considering everything he did for you.)

After Steph’s shift, you both head to her mom’s house, where Crystal Brown, a nurse at West Mercy, generously takes a look at your wrist, as equally as concerned as her daughter when she hears the story.

“It’s just a sprain,” she says, frowning. “I can’t be entirely certain without an X-ray but I don’t think anything is broken or fractured. No need for a brace, either, but if it keeps bothering you…”

“I’ll get it checked out,” you agree easily. “Thank you, Ms. Brown.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Crystal.”

“You know how she is, Mom,” Steph sighs, folding her arms over the back of the chair you’re in, dropping her chin to your head.

“As hard-headed as you? Oh, I know.”

You smile bashfully as Steph snickers. Crystal rises from the table, stepping back to the stove, where she has dinner cooking. At their insistence, you agreed to spend the night.

Crystal has always been kind to you. Both this summer and the previous one did she tell you you were welcome to live with her and Steph here at their shared home, since neither of you could live in the dorms unless you took classes during the summer. Steph abstained from them to get more experience and you abstained because your financial aid wouldn’t cover it, which left you grappling with a three-month lease at the shitty student apartments near GU.

“No Tim?” Crystal asks, covering the pan, turning to look at you two.

Steph clicks her tongue, pulling away from you to flop into the chair beside yours; underneath the table, her ankle curls beneath yours, shin pressed to your calf.

“Busy as usual.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“It’s not that big of a deal—” at the looks you get from both of them, you quickly backtrack “—I mean, I’ll tell him later… That new Mission Impossible movie came out a few weeks ago, so I was gonna see if we could watch it together…”

Crystal frowns. “But you don’t like those movies. Does Tim like those ridiculous movies?”

She probably wouldn’t be displeased if he did. Crystal isn’t overly fond of Tim. Steph says it’s because of their relationship when they were kids but sometimes, it feels far too deep for it to be just that.

Still, she’s civil to him and he rarely says no when Steph invites him (and you) for dinner. If anything, you think Crystal doesn’t mind the opportunity to make him squirm. Steph probably doesn’t mind it, either.

Steph stretches her arms above her head. “It would be on par with him but no. These two just like watching them and making fun of them. I’m good, though.”

“I’ll tell him, then. He’d notice it, anyway, since my mobility is still limited, but yeah…”

“Well, be careful,” she says, mouth pursed. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like she’s talking about your wrist but about something else.

Steph coughs. Crystal looks back to the stove.

“Well, hopefully you two will see him soon. From what I’ve heard, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you say heavily. “A while.”

Crystal doesn’t pay more attention as she focuses on the sizzle of the chicken breast but Steph does, giving you a lingering look that makes you look away.

You… try not to give away too much to her.

You feel horrible enough to be in love with her ex-boyfriend; pining after him in her presence is just the icing on the World’s Worst Best Friend cake.

That’s why you avoided him, after realizing the culmination of your feelings in May.

To see if you could shake the feelings, if you could get rid of them.

Considering how hung up you are on him still, it hasn’t worked.

But you still want to see him again. It’s selfish, probably, to be okay with avoiding him for your own gain and then when he does it on purpose, you want to put an end to it.

But you know now it wasn’t okay.

You want to see Tim, want to hear his bad science puns, you just want him around.

Your feelings won’t go away for a while but avoiding him was the wrong decision. You just have to handle it on your own like an adult.

You would if you could see him more.

You hope you can. Even if it kills you to act normally, to be okay with being friends. By this point, you’ve started to realize having him in any capacity is more than enough.

It has to be.

newest mission impossible movie came out… i can’t believe they’ve managed five of them and this one is only part one of the fifth one. they need to put that series down already

anyway :D in that case, was wondering if we could see it together? on sunday? i’ll get the tix and you get the snacks? we can get ice cream after and talk shit about it

i can’t, sorry! family dinner on sunday, then some other stuff before then and on sat too. see it and let me know about it, alright? :)

You cry when the end credits start rolling.

Not because the movie is good or moving or even so bad that it makes you cry, you’re just…

So tired.

Tired of him never having time for you, for you and Steph.

One part of you wants to give up. What’s the point, right?

His continued lack of time means you can’t even apologize to him, can’t even ask if your initial avoidance was what led to his in the first place.

Mostly because it feels like it doesn’t even matter at this point.

Maybe this is what you deserve and there should be nothing else to say on the matter.

But that hurts even more.

You sit far at the back—shitty seats, he would say—but it gives you the privacy to shed a few tears.

You leave only when the end credits are almost done rolling and the theater is empty. You don’t care about the looks people give you, coming out red-eyed and sniffling from the Mission Impossible movie. You just want to go back to your apartment and hide away for the rest of the summer.

You emerge from the cinema; it’s only eight, so the sun is still out, warming you up from the chilly theater. Sighing, you start for the nearest station to take the subway back to Coventry.

You only get a couple blocks before your eyes catch the storefront of an ice cream parlor. Wallowing deep in self-pity by now, you easily take the detour. The patio in front of it is busy with people and through the large glass window, you see the line inside is long, too. But since you have nothing else to do, you head for it, anyway.

You’re halfway across the patio when you see it.

Through the window, in line for ice cream, is Tim.

Your eyes found him immediately, without intention or purpose. Poetic, almost, were it not for the fact of seeing him here breaks your heart.

Here, not just by himself but with friends. Friends you’ve never met but know of from pictures at his place.

You try to rationalize it initially, still standing there in the middle of the patio, staring into the parlor. Maybe the dinner was canceled. Maybe they dragged him out.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But then it makes you feel second best. Second choice. That he didn’t think of you when his schedule freed up.

That’s presumptuous, though, right? What gives you priority? Nothing, especially after what you pulled before.

But the ache in your chest hardly allows for that much introspection or self-awareness.

Mostly… Mostly, you’re just hurt.

Seeing him now, separated from you by thin glass, the yawning monster inside you that longs desperately for him is unleashed, because he is so close but he’s not here with you, for you. And that hurts. A physical thing, your chest tight, throat thick with growing emotion.

But then, he sees you.

His head turns and you go rigid as your eyes meet his, which widen as he recognizes you.

It’s been long, so terribly long, since you’ve seen him. See the soft blue of his eyes, this lovely shade, like cornflowers.

It makes this so much worse because you don’t think anything will change, even with this, so it’s like a taunt to see him, knowing this might be the last for a while. A long while.

Another moment between you two, the surprise on his face morphing into something else and you look away before you can see what it is, turning on your heel.

You have to get out of here.

The subway is across the street but the light just turned green. Too long.

The hiss of hydraulics snatches your attention. A bus, several feet away. One last person climbing on. You take off for it, scrambling for your wallet, ignoring how the rough motions make your wrist throb in protest.

You think you hear your name. You hope you don’t.

You barely wedge yourself in just as the doors close.

The bus driver eyes you with thinly-veiled suspicion but you pay the fare and take a seat at the far back, away from the windows.

You don’t even know where this bus is going.

You don’t care.

You just have to get away.

You bury your face in your hands, your tears flowing again as the bus pulls away from the curb.

The worst part about it, you think, is that he doesn’t reach out to you.

Neither does Steph, but you reason expecting that is irrational. Why would he talk to her? Why would he tell her what happened?

You can’t do it, either. It’s for the best, maybe, that you don’t say anything about it at all.

Instead, as soon as you get back into your apartment, you collapse onto your threadbare couch and take a nap. Only dragging yourself off it when you have to get up and get ready for your shift, accompanied with the headache throbbing in the center of your forehead.

You trade off with the evening shift and things are quiet for the most part. To distract yourself (mostly to stop yourself from bursting into tears if you think too hard about what happened), you take on your night shift tasks with renewed vigor. Cleaning the floors, the machines, adjusting displays, doing inventory.

Your wrist protests throughout it but you ignore it.

Steph would scold you for it.

So would Tim.

You pause in the middle of cleaning the counter near the Slurpee machine. Your wrist throbs at your side.

The sharp gust of wind and the sound of your name surprises you.

Shocks you, really, since you’re still a bit on edge from Batman’s visit last week and you yelp, turning around, throwing the wet cloth on instinct.

Your visitor dodges it easily. It lands on the floor with a wet splat.

“Flash? What are you—what—?”

He tilts his head, grass-green eyes narrowing slightly, mouth pursing, and you get the unmistakable feeling of being scrutinized very closely.

“What are you doing here, Flash?” you question.

He keeps making that face. “I wanted to see you.”

That surprises you. You blink.

“Batman won’t like that.”

“Don’t care. I’m not here to cause trouble. Just here to see you. He can’t say anything.”

You don’t think that’ll stop him but you don’t say anything. Flash probably knows. He just doesn’t care. He’ll complain about it sometimes, go to lengths to avoid it, but other times, he just—doesn’t care.

Flash continues to look at you. Scrutinizing you.

You don’t bother trying to stop him from doing it. You’re too tired and the way your eyes are still red and swollen is telling, as well as the circles under your eyes.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Flash.”

His frown deepens and one of his hands comes to your shoulders.

“Seriously… are you okay, kid?”

For some reason, that does it.

The smallest of splinters to your resolve first, your breath hitching, then it breaks entirely, emotion swelling inside you with tidal wave force, your vision blurring with tears.

Flash reels back in surprise at first, then softens, muttering, “Aw, kid,” and pulling you into a hug.

It doesn’t feel perfunctory. Like he is doing this out of obligation at seeing you cry, like this is just another one of his duties as a superhero. It feels genuine, the way he holds you tightly against his chest, like you’re a child being comforted.

That just makes you cry harder.

It takes a while for you to calm down. Then you get embarrassed, sniffling out an apology.

He hands you a napkin, then pokes you affectionately on the forehead.

“Geez, what do you take me for? I don’t mind. Besides, worse bodily fluids have ended up on me. Way worse. This is nothing.”

You laugh wetly.

He squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, though. Seems like you’ve got some stuff to talk about. What’s going on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears briefly takes hold of you. You take a deep breath, working through it, blowing your nose.

Flash grabs two Slurpees, one cherry and one blue raspberry, and hops up on the counter, patting the spot beside him. You manage to wriggle up using just your right hand, your left still throbbing.

With plenty of breaks in between to cry a little bit more, you tell him everything that has gone on for the past month. Including the stuff with Red and the others, then your impromptu visit from Batman last week.

“That how you hurt your wrist?” he asks, thoroughly displeased as he reaches for it with gentle fingers. It’s more swollen than before, irritated from you ignoring your body’s warnings, warm to the touch.

“It wasn’t him,” you mumble. “Just me. I tripped and fell.”

He purses his lips but nods for you to continue, which you do, telling him about everything that happened today.

“It just sucks,” you whisper. “I mean, what I’m doing to Steph, first of all, by feeling like that and then with the stuff going on with Tim. I know I shouldn’t have avoided him earlier because of my own feelings and maybe this is what I deserve for it but…”

He shakes his head, seemingly bothered by all of this. Really bothered. You expected some, along with the concern, but all of that seems tripled for a reason you do not know.

He says your name, solemn. “You don’t deserve any of that. Sure, it was stupid but… you still don’t deserve that.”

“I can’t change it,” you sigh, setting your cup down. Your fingers are numb from the cold of it. “I just… I dunno. Had to get it out, I guess, so thanks. Why did you really come here, though?”

He sips his Slurpee. “I really came here for you. I just had this feeling… I don’t know. But it paid off, didn’t it?”

“True,” you admit.

“You want me to talk some sense into this kid?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t know,” he muses, his thoughtful tone bellying the tension that seems to permanently reside in his body now; he’s really annoyed by it. You’re touched, if not a bit confused at the depth of his feelings. “I think I should. Might be good.”

“It’s not totally Tim’s fault—”

“His reaction is his own entirely. You shouldn’t have done what you did but anyone with any amount of common sense would talk to you about it instead of turning around and avoiding you, too. It’s dumb. Don’t let him off the hook.”

“Don’t let me off the hook.”

“I’m not. But from where I’m standing, his offenses greatly outweigh yours, especially with what seemed to happen today and… everything else.”

“Flash…”

“I’m just saying. I am, admittedly, a bit biased but… still. I’m not wrong, am I?”

You sigh. “I guess not.”

“Exactly. And for that stuff with your other friend… she hasn’t said anything about it, has she? I mean, I told you what it’s like for me and Pipes. We don’t feel like that for each other anymore. If I had some friend who turned out to like him, I wouldn’t care. So, what makes you think Stephanie does?”

You throw up your hands. “Most people would! Flash, not everyone takes that approach to their exes.”

“True,” he concedes. “But they’re clearly still friends and just friends.”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s okay with that. That doesn’t mean it’s okay. I shouldn’t… it never should have happened.”

Flash sighs, watching you for a minute. “This is a mess, isn’t it?”

You laugh humorlessly. “You’re just now getting that?”

“I knew before but this is… a mess of epic proportions. Seriously…” he mutters the last part, shaking his head slightly.

Before you can respond, the door opens. You can’t see it, the aisle hiding it, but Flash can; since he remains calm, you assume it isn’t anyone bad.

Then you hear your name, from a very familiar voice and—

“Steph?”

She appears around the aisle, her jean shorts and lilac purple t-shirt wrinkled and in a state of disarray, her hair equally as messy, frizzed from the humidity outside; a light sheen of sweat shines on her face. It’s like she rushed all the way over here.

You hop down from the counter, concerned. “Steph, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? What happened?”

She lifts a hand, cobalt blue eyes on Flash, saying, distractedly, “No, it’s… it’s alright, nothing’s wrong, I just… had to talk to you… Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Flash says breezily, hoping from the counter. “You can talk to her. I was just visiting.”

“Wait—” you don’t want him to leave quite yet but you don’t know how to say that.

“I’ll hang around,” he assures you, tossing your empty Slurpee cups in your next blink; the only indication he did anything is the way they disappear and the breeze that hits you and Steph.

“Batman—”

“Don’t care. If anything, I might like to talk to him.”

“Flash,” you say, nervous, not willing to reveal what happened to Steph but also trying to tell him to very much not do that.

“I’m still thinking about it,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “But I’ll be around. I’ll come back in a few.”

He lifts a hand, then he is gone, the breeze following him much stronger this time.

“I guess you two really are friends,” Steph says when it calms, sending you a small smile, making you relax.

“Yeah…” Though friends didn’t quite cut it for you. Silly, probably, considering you don’t even know who he is under the cowl, but you can’t deny it to yourself. It’s hard to quantify exactly what he means to you—a friend, a big brother, some kind of weird uncle. If anything, it feels like an odd amalgamation of all those things. You wonder if that’s how he feels, too. You won’t ask. You can only handle so much disappointment in one night.

“I’m sorry to come by so suddenly,” she says next, her words oddly formal in a way that puts you on edge. “But I just had to talk to you.”

“About…?”

“About Tim.”

You go stiff. You try your best to school your expression, to not give anything away. After all, concerning him, it could be anything. What happened today, maybe. What’s been happening.

Or your feelings.

You really hope it’s not that.

You’ve only just started to realize you might be losing Tim. You can’t lose her.

You can’t.

“What about him?”

She says your name. Everything inside you tightens.

“I know. I know how you feel about him—”

Your throat aches when you swallow. Everything seems to come bursting out of you in the next second.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Steph, I didn’t mean—I didn’t want—I wouldn’t do anything—” you take a step back, your heart squeezing painfully in your chest.

Her eyes widen and she steps forward, quickly closing the space between you, her hands coming to cradle your face.

“No, no, no, it’s okay, it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not, I never should’ve—god, I’m so sorry, Steph—” your vision blurs with tears.

She says your name again, keeping you in her grasp.

“I’ve known for a long time,” she quickly says. “Okay? I knew, but it’s okay. I was never mad at you, never, it’s okay, I promise.”

“But—but—”

She shushes you gently. “It’s okay. Deep breaths, alright?”

A couple tears trace down your cheeks. She wipes them away, a small smile forming on her lips—for you, entirely for you, the warmth there reflected in her eyes.

“Do you want to know a secret?” she asks, rubbing her thumb over your cheek. “It’s really easy to fall in love with Tim Drake. And this isn’t my roundabout way of telling you I have feelings for him. Those are long gone. I love him and he’ll always be my first love but that time has passed—for the both of us. But for you guys?”

“Stephie…”

“I don’t care that you have feelings for him. I really truly don’t. I just want you to be happy. I want you both to be happy. I think you two can do that for each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I think… you’re good for him. He’s good for you. That’s all there is to it, okay? If you really want my blessing, you have it, but… it doesn’t matter to me that you like him. And I’ve known for a while but I just… I assumed you knew I was okay with it. Like it was the thing that was there but we never talked about. Stupid, I know. But… I just need you to know that. Alright?”

She hugs you. You bury your face in her shoulder, hugging her back just as tightly, unable to stop your tears from flowing.

“I’m not just saying this to try and be the bigger person, either,” she murmurs. “Go for it. It’s been long enough.”

“I don’t know…”

“Why?”

“I mean, he doesn’t… and today…”

Steph pulls away, frowning now. “He likes you, too.”

“No—”

“He does. I know.”

“Then why has he…” You can’t keep going, biting your lip.

“‘Cause he’s an idiot,” she mutters. “In more ways than one. But… I’m going to fix it, okay?”

“No, no, don’t—”

“It’s okay. There’s… there’s other stuff going on right now and we need to take care of that first, then you can talk about your feelings. But I’m going to fix it, okay? I’m going to try.”

“You don’t have to, this is our mess, my mess, I was the one who started avoiding him in May after finally realizing my feelings and then he…” you trail off, sniffling.

“There’s something else,” she says cryptically. “That’s… just take my word for it. But I’m going to fix it. He’s been an idiot long enough and I’m not going to keep tolerating it, not if he’s going to keep hurting you.”

You shake your head, confused. Is she talking about today? Did he tell her? You have no idea…

“He only did it because I did.”

“No, no, it’s… it’s complicated, okay?”

You snort despite yourself. “You think?”

She smiles finally. “I know. It’s… a lot. But don’t worry. I’m going to get him to see the light. Not literally, though I wouldn’t mind roughing him up a bit just for how idiotically he’s been acting but… another time.”

You’re still confused. Terribly, terribly confused. But Steph is so impassioned, so sure, you let it go.

“Let me help,” you say. “I should be the one doing this but—but let me help. I need to. It’s my mess, too.”

“It’s all of us,” she sighs. “And right now, I’m in a unique position. So… let me, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you more later, but hopefully, I can get something together soon. Just sit tight, alright?”

“You do too much for me,” you whisper.

“I’m doing what I should be doing,” she says, looking… guilty almost before the look is gone. “This has gone on long enough.”

She leans forward to kiss your forehead. “But it’s gonna be okay. We’ll make it better.”

You just nod, going along with it for now.

You scrape yourself together after a few minutes, wiping your tears away and blowing your nose. Steph hangs around long enough for Flash to return, at which point she bids you a regretful goodbye, telling you she’ll talk to you tomorrow. You worry about her getting home but she brought her car, or so she tells you, and Flash generously sees her out.

After a couple minutes, he returns.

“So?” he asks expectantly.

“You were right,” you mutter. “She’s fine with it. I’m not entirely sure why she had to rush out to tell me or what she’s planning to fix but… I don’t think I can stop her.”

“No, I don’t think so, either,” he agrees lightly. “I don’t think you should, either. It’s probably important.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “I still don’t think she should be doing it but…”

“There might be more pieces in play than you think.”

You send him a look. “I got enough cryptic talk from her. I don’t want any more from you.”

He holds up his hands, smiling. “No more cryptic talk. Got it. I do, however, come bearing gifts.”

“Where on earth—?”

“Well, I already had them when I came here. I wanted to check on you and give you this stuff, but we got interrupted,” he says. “Give me a second.”

You give him a second.

He leaves and comes back in that time. You raise an eyebrow.

“Check it out,” he says, holding out a box.

You take it from him. It’s a small thing, easily held in your hand. You pull off the top.

And promptly blink as the shiny display of a phone greets you.

“Flash, what—”

He can’t wait for you to finish asking your question, apparently too eager to tell you.

“It’s a phone, for you. But it’s programmed with my contact info, that way you can talk to me, and you can move all the stuff on your old phone over, too. It really is just a regular phone. Well, it does have League-level encryptions on it, but you know.”

“Flash… this is too much.”

“Not really,” he says. “I couldn’t give you that info without making sure your phone was secure and it would’ve been a lot more work to get yours secured, too. Besides, let’s be real, your phone has seen much better days. I think it deserves to finally be able to rest.”

“Jerk,” you laugh.

He shrugs. “Not wrong, though. Anyway, it’s not just for emergencies. You can talk to me. Text me. You know.”

“Flash,” you say, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, pressing a hand to your face.

He looks like he wants to say something else but stops himself last minute and just gives you a small smile.

“Come on. Let’s set it up.”

You agree, not wanting to continue to refuse since it would be rude and… you do want to have a way to talk to him. Not just for emergencies but other stuff, too. This stuff.

So much is still up in the air.

But you can focus on the here and now, with Flash here to ease your burdens.

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