#and he sees Jason now as just the embodiment of that failure rather than a living person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crypterion-moon · 3 years

Text

Tiamat: Rise in Shadow p.1

Summary: His name used to be Tim, once Robin, then Red Robin, then everything just turned Red. Now he’s a shadow of the young man he used to be, not even a shadow. A monster with the face of Timothy Drake Jackson that loved to sleep with strangers and kill when it suited him.

But his time is coming and he must make his choices or be swallowed up by the past, not even his newfound family can save him from that.

Tags: Vampires, a bit of angst, supernatural

A/N: This chapter was written and not corrected, so apologies for the amateurish writing and typos but AO3 already has this so no point in trying to change anything now

Movement beside him, the bed suddenly bereft of a presence shifted Tiamareshka awake. Far too early for his taste. He cracked open one lazy eye and saw the light seeping through. He promptly shut it again. Any point in the day was too early for Tiamareshka , he had never claimed to be a morning person. Unluckily, the person next to him was and work was very important for humans in this society. The sounds of pants, shirts being pulled on, belt buckles being done and a clear thud of the hone on the dresser reached his ears, it felt refreshing to hear such domestic sounds. To not work and earn your living is a failure in the eyes of your mother and father, to not contribute to society is to be a burden. Nothing to do with Tiamareshka though, he planned to laze around in the stranger's bed for while longer. At least until night falls again. He rolled over on his side, his arms curled up at his chest and facing the wall, he muttered something unintelligible, which comes out in a soft groan. The bed dipped again, this time Tiamareshka could feel lips trailing and kissing their way down his body, from his curled shoulder along each rib, the blanket that covered the lower half of his body was lifted as the man planted a few soft, lingering pecks on his hip.

“Morning beautiful.”

Tiamareshka let out a soft moan, just to tease, “Mmmm, don't you have work today?”

“I wish I didn't.”

Tiamareshka smirked, his body curled up slightly more, raising his hips slightly higher for some more kisses which his partner for the night happily obliged, his hands stroking along his legs and slipping in between Tiamareshka 's pale thighs.

“Will I see you again sometime?”

Tiamareshka hummed with approval, “Same place after dark.”

“Okay,” the man grinned nibbling playfully at Tiamareshka 's ear, “I'll see you soon.”

Tiamareshka listened to the rustling of clothes, and the closet. He heard the man leave the room and pick up his keys for the bowl in the hallway, and the door clicked shut.

He thought about letting himself turn a bit, just some black smoke so he could return without having to physically get up and walk, his body ached deliciously though. Last night was fun and satisfying in one go, though the man was far too tender for his comfort. The idea was that it would just be a once off, non-committal thing where the two of them could have fun but it seemed more like this guy was looking for something more but wasn't aware of it. Tiamareshka wriggled about under the covers and took in the scent that clung to the bedsheets, the scent of another human was so addictive. Such a sweet man but rather desperate and lonely, it would be a shame to kill him, even by accident.

The smell and presence of humans, was almost too much in the small space that was this seedy club, and Tiamareshka loved it. He could taste the energy flowing and permeating the air. His hunting place, his one stop for a bit of fun and food.

The hip-hop trance mix that pulsed around the club was a bit on the obnoxious side but not totally intolerable, the laser light that swirled around the floor was quite irritating so he'd settled himself on the other end of the place where a warm light filled the bar and lounge area still in view of the dancefloor. If it wasn't such a popular place with good choices, he wouldn't even bother coming here.

Sitting at the bar, Tiamareshka glanced over each face, searching for an acceptable companion for the night. As his eyes scoured over each face, they would sometimes meet with another and often, they would stare and blush. Unable to tear their eyes away, Tiamareshka could send them the most devilish look and they'd quickly hide or look away in embarrassment. He'd know when they looked back at him when they thought he'd turned his gaze. People were so easily tempted even when he wasn't trying. Look in their direction in a certain way and it's hook, line and sinker.

It was so much fun fooling around with them, especially the dumb ones but only a few were worthwhile.

And tonight, the pretty lady in with the shiny jacket should make a nice meal.

She was healthy, energetic and indeed very full of life...as well as herself. Stupid woman, vain and overestimating, her body screamed for attention, for men to worship her because she deserved it. She'd put down and humiliated a lot of people for her own gain. Tiamareshka had avoid looking any further or he'd be turned off by such a rotten soul. For now, he was hungry.

One wild night proved fun though it left the woman almost completely drained but he always made sure not to let that happen, Tiamareshka was careful about that. The consequences weren't pretty.

What he wasn't prepared for was the woman talking and making noises in her sleep, which irritated Tiamareshka from sleeping that he had to leave the apartment complex. He slipped out through the window, leathery wings unfurling and soared noiselessly up towards the sky. Tendrils of black wispy smoke slithered out from beneath his skin and around his body, solidifying and materializing as clothing, conveniently. He smirked and he continued to soar over the city before settling on one of the buildings that had a nice domed tower to it, perfect for a resting place. It was annoying having to leave so soon. At least it was a beautiful moon night.

His breath ghosted in the chill air which blew softly across his skin as Tiamareshka laid down on the metal. He stared up at the and watched the city moving and breathing angrily down below, Gotham was always such a miserable place. The embodiment of filth, probably no better than the city of Sodom though that may be exaggerating. It had a protector after all. He wasn't sure if it was the city that made Batman that grim icon or the other way around. Perhaps it was that vicious cycle. Tiamareshka could remember the way Bruce moved, silent and imposing, promptly followed by a young boy in yellow, green and red, laughing at the world. With no pants.

Tiamareshka smiled wryly. Thinking of Batman and Robin brought back so many memories, the good and bad, they both made his heart ache, what's left of it any way.

He turned over and tucked his wing against himself. He'll sleep them away, just for a little while before he moves on.

There's blood on his hands, on his face, in his mouth. Red all around him, pooling at his feet. But he isn't looking, it's his hands he can't tear his eyes away from. Tiamareshka 's hand, didn't look like a human's anymore. The fingers were long and protruding from them were long black claws and they were all red, saturated in warm liquid. It comforted him and horrified him at the same time, like coming out of a high. Not his blood, he looked up. Across from him were corpses, the dead, cooling bodies of his friends, the league and Dick?! Bruce!! Damian...oh god oh god, who did this? He looked around and saw no one, no one else but him and...Jason.

But the man wasn't wearing a mad deranged smile like he remembered once, it was a look of horror and pure fear. His hands were clean.

Why was Jason looking at him like that?

Suddenly, the Red Hood turned away and walked, Tiamareshka tried to get up and follow but he was stuck, unable to move. He called out to Jason.

“You monster.”

Tiamareshka woke up to the cool air rapidly warming as the sun rose up over the cityline. Damn, he didn't think he'd sleep the whole night away, it was dawn and he wasn't prepared to take on the full glare of the sun. He was lucky he didn't run into the bat, or the bird for that matter. That would be beyond awkward. He slinked away under the cover of the sun's shadow. He settled down again in his favourite spot, fatigue taking over again. He cursed internally at that damn dream, it always deprived him of rest no matter how long he tried to sleep. He suspected the longer he was in it, the worse it would make him feel and right now, he felt like he hadn't slept in three days. It reminded him so much of his sleepless vigilante days it was almost funny, almost.

“Tiamat.”

A voice whispered to him where he hid, sheltered from the sights of passers-by, high behind the golems of Gotham. Tiamareshka stirred from his curled sleep, listening to the multitudes of voices hissing and sighing inaudibly in the background. The space before him twisted and warped with dark energy. Then a figure stepped out from the swirling mass and onto the stone. Greeting Tiamareshka with a wide, crooked smile.

“Petrakar.” The boy responded with a half giggle, his coal black, tight suit rippled with his body.

“Still fooling around? I know you were overly serious before but this takes the cake.”

Tiamareshka snorted with contempt, he almost wished he'd ignored the sly bastard but he wasn't bothered with moving. Instead he let his tail answer for him, swatting at Petrakar with an impatient flick. Of course, it did nothing since he was only a mirage and it passed through his wispy form like it was just smoke, distorting Petrakar's image only briefly before it settled back in place.

“Someone's moody today.”

“Did you call just to annoy me?”

Petrakar sat down beside a curled up Tiamareshka and reached over, brushing stray strands of hair from his face. As much of an illusion as it was, the boy still felt very real and right there, though his touch felt more like breaths than anything physical.

“You've been seeking out human comfort frequently as of late, have the nightmares returned?”

“...They have always been there, sometimes they're not as bad but then they get louder, clearer, like I'm living it all over again. It happened again last night, when I left early.”

Petrakar said nothing for a long time, the sound of their breaths drowned out in the city's hum. Tiamareshka considered sleeping right here while he could feel Petrakar's presence. He could ask him to stay for a while while he rested but seeing as he wasn't truly here in the flesh, no doubt he was occupied. It pained Tiamareshka to acknowledge how much he needed contact, companionship to chase those damn nightmares away. He felt weak and helpless against himself, he could feel that part of him mocking at him for such dependency, letting it slowly eat him away.

It was all his fault of course, your fault your failure murderer murderer demon monster, Jason can't even look at you now, not even Alfred.

Tiamareshka gasped in shock, clutching at his breast in pain. Petrakar still at his side reacted accordingly prying Tiamareshka 's fingers from his chest and holding them.

“Stop, don't let it get to you again. Come on, Tiamareshka , stay with me.”

Can't here, can't see, only the thing inside trying to claw it's way back out, take over again. Your fault their fault unwanted, they abandoned you, it's only natural to make them pay, make you pay, watch the world burn, let's do it.

Look what they did to you.

“Look at me!”

Tiamareshka was gasping for air, suddenly seeing Petrakar again. He wasn't aware of the tears in his eyes. All that act, all those disgusting nights with endless streams of face, voices, praises but he wasn't beautiful. He was damned. Trying to claw his way out of hell.

Petrakar looked at him with eyes that mirrored his, his suffering, Tiamareshka 's own pain, they all had suffered, had to so they could be together this way, but he, she told him he wasn't ready yet. When?

Petrakar leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his lips, breathing for a minute, “Something is coming your way, Tiamareshka , and it's nearly your time.”

Tiamareshka sat up legs bent behind him as he searched for meaning behind those words, Petrakar's rust colored eyes gave nothing away, “I don't understand.”

“Thing's are going to change.”

Tiamareshka dipped his gaze, completely losing the mask and being that confused, over-analyzing boy he once was, serious and curious all at once. Robin, not Robin. Petrakar smiled a little sad smile and began to fade from sight, his ghost hands still caressing Tiamareshka 's face, “I hope for the better,” Tiamareshka said.

“We all do.”

#vampire!tim #incubus!Tim #vampires #angst #fanfic #fantasy #alternate universe #dc #dcau

2 notes · View notes

eng2100 · 5 years

Text

blog 02 - the hero’s journey and the monomyth

prologue - the monomyth

the big 3 points:

There is a spiritual world that exists in tandem with and parallel to the physical world

The ultimate goal of the physical (mortal/normal) world is to connect to the spiritual world.

The truth is both explored and defined by the universal human experience of the monomyth.

1 - the call to adventure

01 the call

The call to adventure, called “the inciting event” in modernity, is more or less “the thing that happens that makes the hero do the thing”. According to Campbell, there are two major aspects of the call to adventure:

The call is a crisis of some sort; danger, or at least some form of urgency, is inherent to the premise

The call must change the protagonist’s energy from being “inside” of their community to “outside”.

02 refusal of the call

Although not a feature in every story, refusal of the call is a feature of many myths, representing the danger inherent to resisting change and progress. The protagonist’s refusal of the call is often self-punishing-- Campbell cites the case of Daphne and Apollo, in which Daphne’s refusal lead to her fate as an inanimate object. (I don’t really agree with this take, but I’m just the middleman.)

03 supernatural aid

The protagonist will meet a mentor character, though not always supernatural, they frequently are-- characters all the way from Gandalf to Hermes feature in this role. This character represents the protagonist’s destiny, and serves as a comforting, reassuring figure.

04 the crossing of the first threshold

The protagonist, in the good company of their mentor, comes upon the “threshold guardian” who stands at the precipice of the protagonist’s progress into the great unknown. Two key aspects of the threshold guardian are:

They are usually tricky-- if not outright deceitful, they are at least not what they appear.

They are wise about the dangers that await the hero.

05 the belly of the whale

After passing through the first threshold, the protagonist enters a “womb-like state” of change and rebirth. The hero is swallowed up (sometimes literally!) by the darkness beyond the threshold. Brutally, this can signify the annihilation of the self by the self, but it can also signify transformation. Commonly, the hero is assumed to have died during the belly of the whale.

2 - initiation

01 the road of trials

The hero, passing the first threshold and the belly of the whale, must face a labyrinth that tests them spiritually. The obstacles and figures are often symbolic. Campbell’s number one focus is the monomyth’s connection to the human spirit, and the road of trials is perhaps the aspect of the journey in which this shows the most.

02 the meeting with the goddess

We start to get into Freud stuff here, which sucks. No one likes Freud, but Campbell seems to ascribe to his theories. The goddess represents not only femininity, good and bad, but also a sort of universal “wholeness”. The goddess may be good or evil, and is no matter what, in some way, both. The goddess helps the hero to a new type of being.

03 woman as the temptress

It keeps getting Freudy...So, in some fucked up sense, by entangling with the goddess, the hero takes the role of his Father, which leads to his revulsion towards the mother-goddess. To be honest, this is the part I understand the least.

04 atonement with the father

EUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH, so it’s still Freud-y, and I’m going to do my best to relay to you what is being said. The Father is kind of a rival character and he inflicts punishment on the hero for transgressing against the father’s power. Accepting the Father involves a measure of self-annihilation in the manner of the first threshold-- in this phase of the story, the hero must accept that the universe is both good and bad.

05 apotheosis

To be really concise, this is the hero reaching enlightenment.

06 the ultimate boon

The hero is rewarded for his long journey with some sort of Ultimate Prize. The spiritual subtext is that the hero isn’t looking to steal the grace of the gods and goddesses, but rather attempting to accept it-- sometimes trickery is employed to get to this end.

3 - return

01 refusal of the return

We’re close to the ending, but there’s often a component in which the enlightened hero refuses to return for some reason-- an example given is Buddha, who doubted that the world could understand his newfound enlightenment. In some myths, the story ends here-- the hero is left to their bliss.

02 the magic flight

Assuming the hero decides to return at all, there is usually some kind of harrowing escape that can be either comic or tragic. A notable example is the journey of Orpheus out of the underworld-- he looks back when he’s instructed not to and loses the wife who he had been there to save as a result. The emphasis of the magic flight is on human failure rather than divine failure, but ultimately the magic flight still results in fulfillment.

Other notable examples of the magic flight include:

Jason with the Golden Fleece

Izanagi, who had to flee the underworld in similar fashion to Orpheus

Gwion Bach of Welsh mythology fleeing giants

Morgon-Kara of Siberian origin

03 the rescue from without

Sometimes, our embattled hero needs a little help. The Campbellian implication of this section is the realization that all things are in fact, divine, and thus an extension of the hero’s own divinity.

04 the crossing of the return threshold

The hero achieves a sense of internal unity as they cross the threshold back into the “normal world”, bearing with them the gifts and knowledge brought back from the divine. Often, the world isn’t ready to hear what the hero has to say such as in the case of the Irish hero Oisin or in the classic tale of Rip Van Winkle. The goal is, ultimately, to advance the world, and change is usually met with resistance.

05 master of the two worlds

The ultimate goal of the hero and of the myth is the unification of the normal and the divine-- the hero, now enlightened and representative of both side of the figurative coin, is in the best position to unite the two worlds. The primary takeaways from the master of two worlds are:

The literal truth of the myth doesn’t matter-- it doesn’t matter if it happened in real life or not-- what matters is the spiritual, universal truths contained within that help us to deal with trials in our own lives.

Thus, the journey is not a “singular event” but resonates throughout time.

Therefore, the symbols within the hero’s journey are not literal-- they are not the message, only the language in which the message is communicated. In this way, the symbols are both fluid and transcendental.

Individuals who surrender their failings, fears, and human limitations-- and by extension, their individual needs-- thusly become vessels for spiritual and religious fulfillment.

06 freedom to live

The hero’s journey exists to reconcile the needs of the individual with the “universal will”-- the mortal and the divine. The hero themself then comes to embody the universe in constant change, yet ever present.

epilogue - conclusions

Campbell lays out his intentions pretty clearly in the prologue: the monomyth and the Hero’s Journey are endeavors that seek to connect the mortal with the divine and spiritual. They are quests for meaning and enlightenment that transcend the boundaries of culture and time to create a sort of universal story structure that sees itself repeated in the human subconscious.

Do I agree with all of it? Not really. I find Freudian-lens dealings with conceptualization of gender to be pretty trite at best and pretty reductive and dismissive of many cultures’ unique relationships and definitions of gender while simultaneously being very misogynist at worst. Campbell has certainly done his research and he backs up his thesis with a significant amount of text, but in the end, art is deeply subjective.

Campbell attempts to be as objective as possible, but in the end, he was still a white guy examining these cultures at a distance. The Hero’s Journey holds water and is certainly an important piece of academia, but like all critical theories, I would regard it as a tool in a vast toolbox at your disposal rather than an infallible story structure.

0 notes

dylan-hague · 7 years

Text

Chapter 9

July 4th, 2017. 2:35 PM.

Although he was quite open about how little he valued holidays due to his upbringing, Damian had to admit that he had something resembling respect for Independence Day. Not the celebration of it, mind you, no. All the ruckus of proclaiming how great America was, and the sheer quantity of things they can cover in red, white, and blue, and that unholy cacophony called “country music” blaring from every radio station was far too obnoxious for his tastes. But Damian had a deeply rooted respect for anyone who displayed real patriotism; from the men who came together some 241 years ago and risked everything to establish a brand new nation, to the men and women who took up arms today to serve overseas for the sake of their homeland. Damian knew what it meant to devote your life to something greater than yourself; being a member of the League of Assassins meant that, if it came down, you would give your life for the League’s ideals… which Damian felt were wholly different from the ideals of his grandfather. Damian didn’t necessarily share all of Ra’s Al Ghul’s beliefs– which in part made him glad to be done with the Assassins altogether– but he did truly believe that the symbol of the League of Assassin’s stood for something more: it stood for the hope for a better world. In like manner, Damian believed that a soldier in America’s military could fight for the values that the American flag embodied, rather than for the agenda of whatever political figurehead they put in charge of America’s government. Not everyone agreed with the policies of the last president, and not everyone agrees with the policies of this one. When it comes down to it, loving your country means loving the things your country stands for, not loving the people who run it.

Damian’s train of thought was interrupted by a hand grasping his shoulder. He looked up to see the face of his father looking down at him.

“Hello father,” Damian said quietly, placing a hand on top of his. “I heard you were planning on paying a visit sometime soon. How are things in Gotham?”

“Gotham is Gotham, Damian,” Bruce said in a low voice. “It always will be… Alfred says hello, by the way.”

Damian smirked. “Alfred the butler, or Alfred my cat?”

“Both,” Bruce replied with a wink. They laughed for a moment, and Bruce gestured for Damian to sit. The both of them sat down on the couch, and Bruce let out a sigh. “Damian, I wanna talk to you about Garfield.”

Almost immediately, Damian’s expression darkened. “There’s… not much left to say,” he replied. “I let my emotions get the better of me, and my friend got hurt because of it. That’s on my head.”

“You’re right. It absolutely is.” Bruce reached out, putting a hand gently on his son’s arm. “But you can’t let that guilt eat at you.”

“I clearly need to change, Father,” Damian protested calmly. “If something is threatening my friends, it’s my responsibility to stop the threat before it affects someone I care about. I won’t lose again. You never fail, so what excuse do I have to let myself fail?”

Bruce stopped for a moment, looking into his son’s eyes, the same tired blue eyes he saw in the mirror every day. Damian didn’t just want to be a good Robin, he wanted to be a good Batman… he wanted to be his father.

“You think I never lose?” Bruce said, almost whispering. “Son. I lose plenty.”

Damian paused, a look of confusion on his face. “… what do you mean?”

“You’ve read every report on every case I’ve had. Think about it… I let Red Hood fall off that railing all those years ago, and he became the Joker. I didn’t act soon enough to rehabilitate Harvey Dent, and now he’s all but lost to Two-Face. I didn’t make sure Quinn recieved psychiatric help soon enough, and she wasted away with the clown for years…” Bruce paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “I let Jason die… I let Stephanie die… Damian, I let YOU die.”

“Father that isn’t–”

“Yes, Damian, it is. You think I’ve never failed because the bad guys always end up locked away at the end of the mission. But the truth is, I’ve been dealing with the repercussions of my failures every day since the day I first put on the mask when I was twenty-six. I’ve been dealing with not being able to protect the people I love since I was eight years old. And I’ve let it consume me in the past… after Jason died, I became a danger to everyone around me. It wasn’t until Tim showed up that I realized how out of hand I’d gotten. And when… when you died… you can ask anyone in the League. I lost it.”

Damian looked on as his father spoke. All this time, he’d never considered… but it was true.

“I’m not saying that failure is okay. We strive to do the best we can.” Bruce looked into his son’s eyes again. “What I’m saying is that no matter how hard you try, sometimes you’re going to lose. What’s important is to not allow your losses to consume you.”

They sat in silence, looking to one another for a good four seconds. Slowly, Damian slid closer, and laid his head on his father’s chest. Bruce wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. They didn’t say another word, but volumes could be written in the air between them as they gathered strength from one another.

July 11th, 2017. 11:13 PM.

Damian sat typing away at his computer, chronicling the events of the past week. Thankfully, the past seven days had been rather quiet in Jump City, so Damian was a able to finish up much earlier than usual. Just as he was standing up from his desk to get some much-needed shut-eye, there came a knock upon his bedroom door. Shaking off the tiredness from his eyes, Damian shuffled over to the door as it opened, and there stood Tara Markov on the other side.

“Hey…” Tara waved awkwardly. “Can I come in for a minute?”

Damian smiled and gave a little nod, rubbing his eyes as the girl walked into his room. The door shut behind them, and Damian sat back down in his desk chair, gesturing for Tara to seat herself on his bed, which she did.

“I just, uhh…” Tara scratched her head as she looked for the words. “I never actually said thank you for, y'know… saving me when Gar tried to kill me back in April. If you hadn’t been there when you were, then I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Damian assured her. “Especially considering what happened next.”

“Hey,” Tara interjected, “don’t go blaming yourself for what happened to Gar. You did what you had to do to keep us safe. It’s not your fault.”

“It IS my fault, though,” Damian sighed. “But I won’t let it get the better of me. I’m working on dealing with my mistakes. I promise you, I’m gonna keep doing my best to keep you all safe.”

Tara smiled as she got up from where she sat. “Thanks, Dame. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tara turned to walk out the door, but Damian held up a hand.

“Hold on a second, Terra…” Robin stood up from his chair. “There’s something I need to see.”

Tara seemed to freeze up as Damian approached her. He came up behind her and pulled her hair out off of her neck… and he froze. There, at the base of her neck, sat a small device. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he probably never would have seen it. But there it was… barely distinguishable, but Damian instantly recognized the symbol: a circle, half-orange and half-black, with a slit of white on one side. Damian grit his teeth as he stared down at the symbol of the man who murdered his grandfather…

“… Deathstroke…”

Damian put a firm hand on Tara’s shoulder. He loved Tara, but Deathstroke was one of the most dangerous men on Earth. He needed answers, and he needed them now.

Tara turned slowly to meet Damian’s gaze. What caught Damian off-guard was the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed for a moment.

“Tara, what’s going on…?” Damian put his arms around her waist, unsure of how to respond.

“… Please… Damian, please help…”

#damian wayne #batman #bruce wayne #robin #tara markov #terra #teen titans #dc #dc comics #justice league vs teen titans #jlvtt #dcamu #Teen Titans: Fireworks #dc fanfiction #teen titans fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

crypterion-moon · 5 years

Text

Tiamat: Rise in Shadow

“Something so broken can never be fixed, it can only become soomething else”

Tim Drake is dead, and in the ashes of the boy that was once Robin, Red Robin and a Wayne, a new entity arises. Tiamareshka, Inferno of God, Dark Angel of Death among the Hyeshath, the dark, shadowy people that walk through worlds in search of the guilty, the vulnerable and the dying. It feels like an eternity since he came to be but the nightmares of a dead boy still haunt him and his sympathy for man wanes.

But a change is coming, a new world puts him in with the heroes again, and Jason, the last Bat left finally catches up.

A/N: Dark, Angst, Gore, Explicit, Supernatural Element, Witchcraft, Swearing, Slow burn, Multiple crossovers

Movement beside him, the bed suddenly bereft of a presence shifted Tim awake. Far too early for his taste. He cracked open one lazy eye and saw the light seeping through. He promptly shut it again. Any point in the day was too early for Tim, he had never claimed to be a morning person. Unluckily, the person next to him was and work was very important for humans in this society. The sounds of pants, shirts being pulled on, belt buckles being done and a clear thud of the hone on the dresser reached his ears, it felt refreshing to hear such domestic sounds. To not work and earn your living is a failure in the eyes of your mother and father, to not contribute to society is to be a burden. Nothing to do with Tim though, he planned to laze around in the stranger's bed for while longer. At least until night falls again. He rolled over on his side, his arms curled up at his chest and facing the wall, he muttered something unintelligible, which comes out in a soft groan. The bed dipped again, this time Tim could feel lips trailing and kissing their way down his body, from his curled shoulder along each rib, the blanket that covered the lower half of his body was lifted as the man planted a few soft, lingering pecks on his hip.

“Morning beautiful.”

Tim let out a soft moan, just to tease, “Mmmm, don't you have work today?”

“I wish I didn't.”

Tim smirked, his body curled up slightly more, raising his hips slightly higher for some more kisses which his partner for the night happily obliged, his hands stroking along his legs and slipping in between Tim's pale thighs.

“Will I see you again sometime?”

Tim hummed with approval, “Same place after dark.”

“Okay,” the man grinned nibbling playfully at Tim's ear, “I'll see you soon.”

Tim listened to the rustling of clothes, and the closet. He heard the man leave the room and pick up his keys for the bowl in the hallway, and the door clicked shut. He thought about letting himself turn a bit, just some black smoke so he could return without having to physically get up and walk, his body ached deliciously though. Last night was fun and satisfying in one go, though the man was far too tender for his comfort. The idea was that it would just be a once off, non-committal thing where the two of them could have fun but it seemed more like this guy was looking for something more but wasn't aware of it. Tim wriggled about under the covers and took in the scent that clung to the bedsheets, the scent of another human was so addictive. Such a sweet man but rather desperate and lonely, it would be a shame to kill him, even by accident.

The smell and presence of humans, was almost too much in the small space that was this seedy club, and Tim loved it. He could taste the energy flowing and permeating the air. His hunting place, his one stop for a bit of fun and food. The hip-hop trance mix that pulsed around the club was a bit on the obnoxious side but not totally intolerable, the laser light that swirled around the floor was quite irritating so he'd settled himself on the other end of the place where a warm light filled the bar and lounge area still in view of the dancefloor. If it wasn't such a popular place with good choices, he wouldn't even bother coming here. Sitting at the bar, Tim glanced over each face, searching for an acceptable companion for the night. As his eyes scoured over each face, they would sometimes meet with another and often, they would stare and blush. Unable to tear their eyes away, Tim could send them the most devilish look and they'd quickly hide or look away in embarrassment. He'd know when they looked back at him when they thought he'd turned his gaze. People were so easily tempted even when he wasn't trying. Look in their direction in a certain way and it's hook, line and sinker. It was so much fun fooling around with them, especially the dumb ones but only a few were worthwhile. And tonight, the pretty lady in with the shiny jacket should make a nice meal.

Turns out she was quite well off, her apartment was well decorated and nothing displayed seemed to be on the fake or cheap side. A few glances around and it was apparent that she was actually a finance worker of a company, and not a very honest one at that, but at that moment, Tim really couldn't care less. She was healthy, energetic and indeed very full of life...as well as herself. Stupid woman, vain and overestimating, her body screamed for attention, for men to worship her because she deserved it. She'd put down and humiliated a lot of people for her own gain. Tim had avoid looking any further or he'd be turned off by such a rotten soul. For now, he was hungry. One wild night proved fun though it left the woman almost completely drained but he always made sure not to let that happen, Tim was careful about that. The consequences weren't pretty. What he wasn't prepared for was the woman talking and making noises in her sleep, which irritated Tim from sleeping that he had to leave the apartment complex. He slipped out through the window, leathery wings unfurling and soared noiselessly up towards the sky. Tendrils of black wispy smoke slithered out from beneath his skin and around his body, solidifying and materializing as clothing, conveniently. He smirked and he continued to soar over the city before settling on one of the buildings that had a nice domed tower to it, perfect for a resting place. It was annoying having to leave so soon. At least it was a beautiful moon night. His breath ghosted in the chill air which blew softly across his skin as Tim laid down on the metal. He stared up at the and watched the city moving and breathing angrily down below, Gotham was always such a miserable place. The embodiment of filth, probably no better than the city of Sodom though that may be exaggerating. It had a protector after all. He wasn't sure if it was the city that made Batman that grim icon or the other way around. Perhaps it was that vicious cycle. Tim could remember the way Bruce moved, silent and imposing, promptly followed by a young boy in yellow, green and red, laughing at the world. With no pants. Tim smiled wryly. Thinking of Batman and Robin brought back so many memories, the good and bad, they both made his heart ache, what's left of it any way. He turned over and tucked his wing against himself. He'll sleep them away, just for a little while before he moves on.

There's blood on his hands, on his face, in his mouth. Red all around him, pooling at his feet. But he isn't looking, it's his hands he can't tear his eyes away from. Tim's hand, didn't look like a human's any more. The fingers were long and protruding from them were long black claws and they were all red, saturated in warm liquid. It comforted him and horrified him at the same time, like coming out of a high. Not his blood, he looked up. Across from him were corpses, the dead, cooling bodies of his friends, the league and Dick?! Bruce!! Damian...oh god oh god, who did this? He looked around and saw no one, no one else but him and...Jason. But the man wasn't wearing a mad deranged smile like he remembered once, it was a look of horror and pure fear. His hands were clean. Why was Jason looking at him like that? Suddenly, the Red Hood turned away and walked, Tim tried to get up and follow but he was stuck, unable to move. He called out to Jason.

“You monster.”

Tim woke up to the cool air rapidly warming as the sun rose up over the cityline. Damn, he didn't think he'd sleep the whole night away, it was dawn and he wasn't prepared to take on the full glare of the sun. He was lucky he didn't run into the bat, or the bird for that matter. That would be beyond awkward. He slinked away under the cover of the sun's shadow. He settled down again in his favourite spot, fatigue taking over again. He cursed internally at that damn dream, it always deprived him of rest no matter how long he tried to sleep. He suspected the longer he was in it, the worse it would make him feel and right now, he felt like he hadn't slept in three days. It reminded him so much of his sleepless vigilante days it was almost funny, almost.

“Tiamat.”

A voice whispered to him where he hid, sheltered from the sights of passers-by, high behind the golems of Gotham. Tim stirred from his curled sleep, listening to the multitudes of voices hissing and sighing inaudibly in the background. The space before him twisted and warped with dark energy. Then a figure stepped out from the swirling mass and onto the stone. Greeting Tim with a wide, crooked smile.

“Peter.” The boy responded with a half giggle, his coal black, tight suit rippled with his body.

“Still fooling around? I know you were overly serious before but this takes the cake.”

Tim snorted with contempt, he almost wished he'd ignored the sly bastard but he wasn't bothered with moving. Instead he let his tail answer for him, swatting at Peter with an impatient flick. Of course, it did nothing since he was only a mirage and it passed through his wispy form like it was just smoke, distorting Peter's image only briefly before it settled back in place.

“Someone's moody today.”

“Did you call just to annoy me?”

Peter sat down beside a curled up Tim and reached over, brushing stray strands of hair from his face. As much of an illusion as it was, the boy still felt very real and right there, though his touch felt more like breaths than anything physical.

“You've been seeking out human comfort frequently as of late, have the nightmares returned?”

“...They have always been there, sometimes they're not as bad but then they get louder, clearer, like I'm living it all over again. It happened again last night, when I left early.”

Peter said nothing for a long time, the sound of their breaths drowned out in the city's hum. Tim considered sleeping right here while he could feel Peter's presence. He could ask him to stay for a while while he rested but seeing as he wasn't truly here in the flesh, no doubt he was occupied. It pained Tim to acknowledge how much he needed contact, companionship to chase those damn nightmares away. He felt weak and helpless against himself, he could feel that part of him mocking at him for such dependency, letting it slowly eat him away. It was all his fault of course, your fault your failure murderer murderer demon monster, Jason can't even look at you now, not even Alfred. Tim gasped in shock, clutching at his breast in pain. Peter still at his side reacted accordingly prying Tim's fingers from his chest and holding them.

“Stop, don't let it get to you again. Come on, Tim, stay with me.” Can't here, can't see, only the thing inside trying to claw it's way back out, take over again. Your fault their fault unwanted, they abandoned you, it's only natural to make them pay, make you pay, watch the world burn, let's do it.

Look what they did to you.

“Look at me!”

Tim was gasping for air, suddenly seeing Peter again. He wasn't aware of the tears in his eyes. All that act, all those disgusting nights with endless streams of face, voices, praises but he wasn't beautiful. He was damned. Trying to claw his way out of hell.

Peter looked at him with eyes that mirrored his, his suffering, Tim's own pain, they all had suffered, had to so they could be together this way, but he, she told him he wasn't ready yet. When?

Peter leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his lips, breathing for a minute, “Something is coming your way, Tim, and it's nearly your time.”

Tim sat up legs bent behind him as he searched for meaning behind those words, Peter's rust coloured eyes gave nothing away, “I don't understand.”

“Thing's are going to change.”

Tim dipped his gaze, completely losing the mask and being that confused, over-analysing boy he once was, serious and curious all at once. Robin, not Robin. Peter smiled a little sad smile and began to fade from sight, his ghost hands still caressing Tim's face, “I hope for the better,” Tim said.

“We all do.”

Tim's head was ringing, and it was damn annoying as well as slightly painful. It took a whole lot of effort and will to just open his eyes with his whole body screaming at him for the abuse. Not the first time, he told himself, had worse happen to him on Batman's watch. And then he realized there was a possibility he wasn't alone. His eyes shot open and he lifted his head enough to give the surrounding area a quick scan around before dropping back to the ground, face first of course. He felt as if he got kicked in the head by a horse, which was a close enough comparison given how hard he was hit. Fortunately it seemed like the Blight Hounds didn't seem to make it through or were dropped off elsewhere, hopefully somewhere far away, like a different dimension. He was about to seduce and kill a young man who would later become a gang leader as he'd been told by Oriviane, one of the oracles. Though it had nothing to do with Tim or the wraiths what his destiny would have been, his name was listed. He would die sooner or later. It would have just been another night of ending someone's life with pleasure until they were suddenly ambushed by those damned monsters. Ambushes weren't all that unusual though it served to be a pain in the ass having to kill his targets before they ran off. Tim was always prepared for these moments and it wouldn't have been a problem if his psyche as well as his powers didn't decide to fluctuate right at that moment. It earned him a swat to the face from one of their malformed paws, and they were strong, if not smart.

“Damn, I hope they didn't scratch me,” Tim grunted, as his fingers came away wet with blood.

He glanced at his surroundings, a thick but not unruly gathering of trees blocked much of Tim's field of vision like a forest, preventing him from seeing too much farther, but he could hear a the low drone of activity, human activity just beyond the edge of the spot where he stood. Tim followed the sounds, noting how oddly neat these trees were spaced almost as if...he reached the end to find wide open spaces filled with people either picnicking, strolling or playing, and beyond that was a city. Its buildings jutting up unpleasantly over the foliage. His portal navigation had landed him in the middle of a park in god knows where, again. In fairness, it was a stressful moment, trying to open up a door while fending of mutant mutts and no doubt, they must've been scattered over other realms. He really needed to get the hang of this before it sent him into somewhere much more unpleasant.

Strangely, as he kept passing through the thick growth of trees he could hear the sounds of civilization cars and voices, not too far away and as it turned out, he’d reached the edge of what turned out to be a reserved patch of forest. Now he was staring from under the shade, normal civilians passing by going about their business. At least he was sure he wasn’t on some god-forsaken hell. He was about to move forward when a sudden explosion erupted about fifty meters away. He flinched back into the cover and watched intently. Through the throngs of screaming people, a figure emerged from the wreckage, large and imposing and an awfully familiar at that. It was Bane. Still duped up on Venom.

“Come out you spineless cowards, come out and face Bane!”

Good lord he was obnoxious as ever. Watching him thrash about like a child throwing a tantrum was almost comical. He took out a substantial chunk of the cement ground throwing it about, thankfully most of the crowds had retreated but he was posing a serious threat to bystanders. For now, it seemed that the only damage he was intent on doing was to the surrounding inanimate objects, smashing to be exact, unimpressive really. Then the drugged up criminal fixes his gaze on some unfortunate man on his way to work. Tim grinned. Perfect, he had some stress to work off. Just when he had taken a step out, suddenly Bane was ambushed. Teenagers sporting colourful sets of powers and abilities. One of them, a green skinned boy morphed into a bull charging Bane relentlessly and recklessly. A young blond woman with a bow joined in, notching and releasing arrows effortlessly with near perfect aim. The flashy one dashed in to deliver a series of, flimsy punches. When it comes to Bane, nothing short of a strong punch will affect him, but somehow, Tim could feel that was merely to add to the distraction, just as predictable in his technique as always, no matter what version of him was out there. Smart but predictable. Now he could never understand why Bruce found him challenging Tim stopped, his gaze snapping aside. Something bigger was coming his way.

As soon as the thought passed, a large black and blue jean mass came flying in, crashing into Bane with a loud thump and crack that definitely was the sound of a few broken bones. The villain was sent flying back from the impact while the recent addition to the fray watched with a triumphant expression, back straight, floating in the air with the symbol on his chest on display. A Super. The sight of the S brought memories, slamming back into Tim.

“Hey Broody.”

Kon smiling as he hovered over him making terrible jokes about his height, his personality being not as colourful as his costume. Fighting together with their teammates against extraterrestrial terrorists.

“You know he doesn’t mean that.”

Kon comforting him over his arguments and fights with Bruce and Jason. Hearing Kon’s voice beg him to come home again and again until he couldn’t hear him any more. And when he finally opened his eyes, he was holding Kon’s head in his bloody hands. Tim doubled over gagging, holding himself steady grasping a thorny vine that grew along the trunk of the tree, his hand so tight around it the thorns pierced skin and blood ran down his palm and the vine.

“Damn it, not now, keep it together...” he fought to keep the memories suppressed. Just then a giant crash spooked him out of the lapse and he looked up in time to see a huge Gorilla in a stupid hat flattening down everything In its way, with a machine gun to match. Following behind were what looked like a few hired goons, of course, why not. Bane always made sure to be stocked up on henchmen and backup. This was however turning into a bit of a joke and Tim was getting bored of watching.

“Robin!” A slight figure leaped out of nowhere at the command, unleashing a whole arsenal of batarangs and smoke pellets. The flying pieces of metal successfully took down a portion of the goons while the pellets burst, enveloping the area in thick smoke. No one can see through it accept for Superboy but they had definitely planned this enough not to require visibility. Tim’s suspicions were confirmed when the green shapeshifter charged right into the smoke, audibly knocking out more of the hired guns, both Robin and the archer jointly disabled the remaining men caught in the smoke. Bane could be heard roaring over the commotion, Gorilla sniffed and grunted. Suddenly, Superboy and a girl with a familiar symbol dived in, tackling the two. The team’s hard hitters best suited for tanks like Bane and the Gorilla. Tim guessed they must be this world’s Teen Titans, which meant he had to be careful who he came in contact with. After a whole load of punching and kicking, the two villains were finally down, disappointingly enough, how boring. They began discussing something together possibly about whatever mission they were on while the blond with the lasso and the speedster began tying everyone up. Just then the farthest man lying just a meter of where Tim was hiding got up and started sprinting off into the woods. Tim watched the man as he made his escape into the darkness, soon noticed to be by the teens, his lips stretched into a sinister grin. He sat back on his haunches, preparing for the chase.

“Let the hunt begin.”

“We have a runner,” Nightwing sounded slightly fed up, his tone coloured with annoyance as he watched the last of Bane’s hired gun run of to the woods. No one could blame him, since it’s been a long day and no doubt, going to be a long night for him in Bludhaven, the wicked never sleep. So the team started off after him as the heavy hands came to take the criminals away for locking up. Kid Flash was definitely the fastest but not the brightest, and in an environment like a forest, odds were that he’d trip up or spend the whole day searching high and low for the man, so it was a good thing he wasn’t here or he’d run off not knowing where he was going or running into. Beast Boy had the right idea though, as a hound, he had the escaper’s scent. So they followed him into the thick growth. Finding him was actually harder than they thought, he had no tracker so all they could really rely upon was Superboy’s senses and Beast Boy’s ability to track as an animal, even then Connor couldn’t see past all the trees with his vision and Garfield lost his scent a few times.

“He must be in the deepest part of the forest by now,” Artemis said.

“Keep searching, if he’s going back to base this could mean finding the ones responsible for the meta-trafficking,” Nightwing ordered.

“He could be headed towards the docks, it’s the quickest and closest way out,” Robin said, it made sense and Nightwing agreed, it was the only other place that anyone could find a way to get off the island. As they got nearer to the docks, Superboy stopped all of a sudden, his teammates stopped as well.

“Superboy, what’s wrong, is-” Wondergirl began to say when he shushed her, his ears picking up whimpers and sobs and some frantic words that were to muffled for him to hear properly. But he could tell which direction.

“Over there,” he said, facing in the direction of the sound just off to the side to where the docks were, .

They followed Conner to what looked like the deepest part of the forest when he faltered and bent over looking shaken.

“What’s wrong,” Nightwing asked, checking him over with concern.

“Someone screamed and it wasn’t any scream, I mean a real scream,” Connor looked up and around, panicked, “I can’t hear him anymore.”

With this disturbing reveal, Nightwing and Robin both took off in that direction, with the others following after Superboy had recovered. Beast Boy was in the lead again, with the scent strong this time and they ventured on before Garfield started yelping, then, the smell hit them hard, the smell of blood and urine.

“Oh my god,” Artemis let out a hoarse whisper.

Everyone stopped, their mouths hanging open in shock. The corpse lying before them was definitely their runner, but he wasn’t going to be answering questions or going anywhere but the morgue. His limbs stuck out at odd angles like he was flailing about so much they were arranged haphazardly, his uniform was ripped open and so was his throat. The chest area bore several gashes. Right arm ripped off and legs punctured. He looked like he’d been mauled by a savage animal except, no animal can make such clean cuts as the ones on his chest, the claws must have been thin, needle like. His mouth hung agape with terror and he must have been scared enough to wet himself with the darkened patch on his pants mixing with the blood that was now seeping in, staining the grey a darker shade.

“Wha- who could have done this?!” Cassie gasped. Nightwing took a tentative step forward, he’d seen bad things in Gotham but never something like this here. Something had made it’s way on the island. He looked back to see Robin had also followed his movement but he seemed to be on the verge of getting sick, he was too young to witness something like this. Nightwing didn’t want to baby him. Working as Robin alongside Batman meant being in the middle of things like this but still...he glanced back at the body. This was too horrible.

“You guys, go back to HQ, call Batman, tell him we’ve got an issue, possibly something worse than the crisis at hand,” he ordered the rest of the team, “Robin, look at me, I know it’s going to be hard but go back with them, take the rest of the day off.”

“But I-.”

“Listen to me, Tim, I’m not putting you off missions because I think you’re not up for it, but I’ve had something like this happen before and it isn’t something you can just shake off, take it from a guy who tried winging it,” Dick gave him a wry smile, “Go home you earned it.”

“Can’t I just stay at HQ, keep me in the loop?”

Both Nightwing and Robin looked at the tattered remains, “I don’t think it’s exactly safe there right now.”

A/N: I’m mostly caught up on Ao3 if you want to read the rest without waiting for me to post it up on tumblr it’s here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/13341468/chapters/30542415

#tim drake #jason todd #young justice #my ocs #hyeshath AU #dark #this is really dark #crossover

3 notes · View notes