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13uswntimagines · 3 years

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Protective Mamas and cuddle time (Kellex x Little!Reader)

Request: More kellex x little reader? Maybe reader gets badly injured and kellex takes care of her?

Author’s Note: IDK how i feel about this one honestly. Im going to apologize because I don’t think it’s really on par with the others, but i hope you guys enjoy it. It me up with questions and asks because they're super motivating.

You took a deep breath, wiping the sweat away from your forehead, your eyes glued to the opposite of the field where Kelley and Abby had just stripped Jessie Fleming of the ball.

Canada was always a particularly difficult and physical opponent and today was no exception. Your kit was stained green from the number of times you had already hit the ground and it wasn’t even halftime yet.

Kelley looked up at you, and you nodded in response, beginning to casually move upfield and away from your defender. You watched for a second, waiting for the signal, and once you saw it, you took off upfield.

Your defender was too far behind, and completely confused by your sudden change in direction. You glanced over your shoulder just as Kelley crossed a beautiful ball right towards you.

It seemed to float over you. You probably could have waited 3 seconds for it to land right at your feet, but you wanted to prove a point. You wanted to show off a little. You rushed forward and leaped for it.

*****

You were very confused and entirely unsure of how you had gotten yourself into this position. You blinked up at the sky groaning. The light hurt your eyes. It was mean for the sun to interrupt your nap. That was why your mommies always made sure to close the blinds. They never made you wake up to bright lights.

You tried to move your arm to cover your eyes, only to have it stopped by a warm hand.

“Hey babe, you need to stay still alright?” Alex said, her face appearing upside down in your line of sight.

Her face seemed to sway above you and the headache kicked in. It felt like you were falling, even though you were pretty sure you were laying on the ground.

It was terrifying.

“Wha appended?” You tried to ask. Your eyebrows furrowed at how slurred it sounded and how difficult it was for you to get them out.

Alex brought her hand to your cheek, lightly running her finger along your lips. She could tell you were slipping. “Shh babydoll,”

You tried in vain to lean into her touch, to wiggle just a little to be closer to her. Just the little movement caused pain to flare up in your hand and all the way down your side. Kelley also appeared above you, gently pushing your shoulders to keep you on the ground.

“Mama, it hurt,” You whined, tears coming to your eyes as you again tried to sit up and squirm away from the medic who was now kneeling on your other side.

“I know, but you gotta let Lena help you,” Kelley said, carefully pinning the arm next to her on the ground so you didn’t try to bat the medic’s hand away like you had last time. You whined loudly.

She shared a look with Alex. The team didn’t like to share who exactly amongst them was little with the world. It helped them to protect you and maintain some form of privacy. With you dropping, there was a good chance it could have the rest of the littles on the team dropping too (a disastrous situation that they would very much like to avoid).

Your girlfriends also didn’t like that you were in enough pain to send you crashing down into little space either. You were a tough cookie, so it had to be pretty bad.

“Hey Y/n can you tell me where it hurts?” The green-eyed medic asked softly, using the voice she would use if her own little one was hurt.

You squinted. Your ability to verbalize your thoughts was slowly dwindling as you sank deeper into little space.

Alex ran her thumbs over your cheek again, trying to help you stay grounded enough to answer. “Come on babydoll, you gotta tell her so she can help you,” Kelley added, rubbing your arm.

“My head an my tummy,” You mumbled.

Lena nodded at you, very carefully lifting up your shirt to take a peek at the bruised skin. She shook her head at your girlfriends and motioned to Vlatko that you were definitely gonna need to be subbed off the field. “Ok kiddo, we’re gonna get you off the field and get you all fixed up alright?”

“Mama come?” you asked as they loaded you onto the stretcher, still very out of it.

“Mama and mommy have to stay here, but Aunt Becky is gonna go to the back with you while we get you checked out,” Kelley said, kissing your forehead, and brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

It wasn’t even halftime yet and the team only had 3 subs to use. All three of you couldn’t leave the field, no matter how much Alex and Kelley wanted to go with you.

“Otay,” You said, your voice very far away.

“We’ll come to check on you right after we finish,” Alex added as they moved you off the field.

Both women watched you go, shaking their heads to try and get themselves back into game mode instead of worried mama mode. Big you wouldn’t be happy if they lost because you had to get taken off the field.

****

“Alright darling, let’s get you all comfy,” Kelley said, opening the hotel room door and holding it so Alex could carry you inside.

The game had ended with two more goals (one by Alex and another by Christen) both of which happened to go right past the defender whose sloppy playing had gotten you taken off the field. And the ride back to the hotel had been quiet and uneventful. Frankly, the hardest part was getting you cleaned up and changed out of your practice kit and into something a little more comfortable for the bus.

You had tried to be cooperative (a testament to how much pain you were in) but between the nausea from your concussion and your bruised ribs you weren’t that much help. Though the skin-on-skin contact in the shower had soothed you a little.

“Baba?” You asked sleepily into your mommy’s shoulder, lisping around the pacifier in your mouth.

“Yeah babydoll, we’ll get you a bottle,” Alex hummed, kissing the crown of your head and sitting on the edge of the bed.

It was rare that you were this little. You usually hovered around 3 and a half or 4, and typically preferred sippy cups to bottles. They didn’t mind you were younger today, it made you more cuddly.

“Alright kiddo, Batman or Nasa?” Kelley asked softly, swatting in front of you and Alex, holding up both sets of footy pajamas. Little you hated to sleep in sweats.

You peeked out from your mommy’s shoulder, squinting at your choices. The NASA one was cool, it had a little hood that looked like a space helmet, but the Batman one had a cape.

“Batman,” You mumbled after a few seconds, going back into your favorite hiding spot. Your girlfriends shared an indulgent smile.

Alex gently rubbed your back, before bringing a hand up to carefully remove you from her neck. “Batman it is, let’s get you changed,”

You tensed but allowed her to coax you back out. You let out a low whine as Alex helped you turn around in her lap. That whine got more insistent when Kelley encouraged you to lift up your hips so she could bet your sweats off. The small movement caused your ribs to ache and burn. You wiggled away from the pain, only making it worse.

“Easy baby,” Alex said into your ear, a hand moving to rub little circles on your belly to help calm you. They both waited for you to stop squirming before they very quickly finished helping you change. “there we go,” Alex hummed as Kelley finished pulling up the zipper and passed you your favorite stuffed dinosaur.

“You cuddle with mommy and I’ll get you your bottle,” Kelley said, lightly throwing your cape over your face and earning a little giggle (followed by a whine when it hurt your ribs to laugh as a glare from Alex).

“Uddle wit mommy,” you nodded, letting Alex maneuver you back to get under the covers and into a more comfortable cuddling position.

Alex smiled softly at you, helping you to tuck yourself back into her taller form and get Roary situated next to you before pulling up one of your favorite movies on the television- Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

Kelley rolled her eyes at the opening chords of the movie. The three of you had watched it so much that she could probably (and would probably because you liked it) quote the whole thing word for word. She pulled the bottle of milk from the microwave, shaking it and testing it on her wrist to make sure it wasn’t too hot.

“There you go darling,” Kelley said, hanging you the bottle and climbing into the bed next to you. You shifted a little, making sure that both you and Roary were comfortable (and that he wasn’t blocking your view).

“Tank you,” You murmured, proud that mommy didn’t have to nudge you to remember your manners.

“You’re welcome,” Kelley smiled, kissing your forehead. You wiggled again, and Alex rolled her eyes. Trying to keep you still for the next however many weeks was going to be a nightmare.

“Shh, baby just relax. We’ll take care of you,” Alex said, helping you shift and bring her hand to the back of your neck. She rubbed little circles onto the skin and very gently combed her fingers through your baby hairs.

It only took her a few minutes to have your head dropping further into Kelley’s shoulder and your eyes slipping shut.

“Wove mama and mommy,” You said already half asleep, lisping around your pacifier.

“We love you too baby,” They said together. They loved you more than anything and they were going to make sure you didn’t rush your recovery.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #kellex x reader #kellex imagine

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dukethomas · 3 years

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Summary: Duke’s parents recover and come home. Written for Duke Week 2021 Day Six: Family Bonding.

I was going to write something angstier for this prompt, but it actually turned into just the comfort part of hurt/comfort. Sometimes I need a good cry about something good happening to characters I love.

Also read it here on AO3!

His parents were back.

His parents were back, and Duke could cry and cry and cry forever. He sobbed into his mom’s shoulder for who knows how long when he saw them. His mom pat his back—he was taller than her now—and murmured to him, “It’s okay, baby bird. We’re here.”

The use of the nickname he hadn’t heard since he was in elementary school made him sob harder.

His mom and his dad were, were okay, their mouths weren’t contorted into unnatural grins and they didn’t carry that gleam of hatred and they said they were so sorry and they loved him so much and wow, hadn’t he grown up so much—he turned out to be the spitting image of his mother, didn’t he think?

Duke didn’t think he’d ever stop crying.

“I missed you,” he blubbered. “I missed you every day, I swear, I tried so hard to find a cure or something—”

His dad smiled at him, softly, tears in the corners of his eyes. “And you did. We’re right here, Duke. You brought us back.”

He had to call Jay to pick them up, because his parents no longer had licenses and Duke didn’t trust his hands to not shake in the full force of his joy.

In the days that followed, Duke didn’t go out as the Signal. How could he? This all felt like a fever dream; he’d been wanting this for so long. If he didn’t spend every waking moment with his parents, he feared they could revert back to what they were, and it would be a dream after all.

Jay took a few days off of work, and Duke called in sick for a few days at school. The Thomas family glowed with genuine grins, because they were whole. They spent the time catching his mom and dad up on what they missed, and having fun playing games or going out the rest of the time. To his dad’s chagrin, Duke had gotten much better at chess, but no one could beat his mom at Monopoly.

Then life came crashing down around them. Jay had to go to work, Duke had to go back to school, and his parents needed to begin a new chapter of their lives. Unbeknownst to Jay and his parents, Duke skipped his first day back at school to chase down a string of thefts he’d read about in the news.

He could never stay away from Signal for long. Gotham needed him, needed all the help it could get.

It wasn’t a difficult case, by any means. Mad Hatter was about as subtle as a barge. Still, Duke embraced the thrill of hunting them down, as the trail of clues led him right towards a newly opened costume store, Wonderland Haberdashery.

Again. Subtle as a barge.

“What are we waiting for?” a man dressed as a giant white rabbit complained.

The dormouse next to him shushed him loudly. She hissed, “The boss’ signal.”

Duke took that as his cue. He launched into action, running forward with a well-timed punch to the rabbit’s face. “You’ve got one right here.” (Those jokes never got old.)

He let himself loose, using all of his training as well as his own metahuman power to demolish his way through the storybook-themed goons. He couldn’t fight the grin on his face; he was having too much fun. His heart reached a thunderous frenzy in his ears and he loved every second of it. These guys couldn’t touch him.

When the time came to knock out Jervis Tetch himself, Duke obliged with glee. He’d just finished tying him to the wall when his phone buzzed with a notification.

It was three, school was over, and he should be heading home. His parents should be home.

His parents were home. It still felt surreal.

He ran into Jay’s apartment and kicked off his shoes faster than he ever had when doing a superheroic change of clothes.

“Hey Mom! Hey Dad! I’m home!” he called. When he heard no response, a chill went down his spine, and he rushed to the living room. There, his parents sat on the couch, fixated on the TV. The news channel was on, talking about an altercation at—oh.

It was talking about him.

“That’s you,” his mom said without turning back to look at him.

A wad of bile as large as a stone formed in his throat. He knew Bruce probably had contingencies for if anyone guessed his identity. Deny it, prove that he was in school, get a shapeshifter to pose as Signal in the same room as him. But he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Yeah.” He couldn’t, he wouldn’t lie to his parents. “Are you upset?”

He’d imagined this scenario many times. What would his parents say about his vigilantism? He was risking his life every time he was out there, and no parent would want that, but he was helping Gotham. He was helping Gotham’s people, just like they had taught him to do.

“Let me take a look at you,” his mom told him, beckoning him towards the couch. Duke listened, sitting in between his mom and dad. His mom cupped his face with her rough hands, and he leaned into the touch. “It’s dangerous,” she murmured; Duke squeezed his eyes shut.

A firm arm reached around his shoulders, holding him tight. His dad. “But you’re happy,” he said.

Duke nodded, his chin trembling.

They dwelled in a moment’s pause, until he was being hugged from both sides. Duke opened his eyes to see his parents with faint smiles. “We couldn’t be there for you,” said his mom, “but you found yourself.”

“I did,” Duke whispered, crying for the millionth time this week. “I did.”

“We’re so, so unbelievably proud of the person you’ve grown up to be, baby bird. We just wish… we just wish we could have been here to see it happen.”

His parents laid down some ground rules. No more skipping school unless he had all his assignments done and he had straight A’s. He had to be home for dinner, and after sundown he was off his shift. He could join night shift with the other Bats only twice a week in a limited capacity, and he had to go to sleep before midnight on school nights. And he would tell Jay his secret.

That had been the hardest one. Duke could barely get the words out, suddenly filled with shame for not telling Jay earlier.

But as it turned out, Jay already suspected it. “I’m no genius, but you’re disappearing constantly. I can never find you. Wayne takes you out of Gotham all the time. That’s not just an internship, Duke.” His jaw hardened. “But don’t think that I’m going to be the cool cousin now and let you break any of those new rules your parents set. Safety first.”

Duke rolled his eyes and hugged him. “Love you, man.”

“Love you too, rascal.”

He had to let Bruce know. He’d been keeping in touch with Bruce throughout all of this, but sparingly. He got the vibe that Bruce was keeping his distance out of respect for him and his parents.

Well, no more of that. Duke shot off a text to Bruce to let him know he was coming, then pocketed his phone. “Hey, Mom? Dad? You wanna ride with me on my motorcycle to Wayne Manor?”

He wouldn’t have actually done it (it was too big of an identity risk), but it was worth it to see his parents’ briefly stunned looks before his dad started chasing him with a noogie at the ready.

Jay drove them all to Wayne Manor. His mom and dad walked out of the car tentatively, scrutinizing their surroundings. Duke fidgeted with his shirt, wondering what they thought. For all intents and purposes, this was his home, if only for a little over a year.

Duke rang the doorbell, ready to greet Alfred, but it was Bruce who opened the door for once. The way he held himself struck Duke. It wasn’t extravagant and flighty like Brucie, nor grim and tense like Batman. Duke’s family were some of the very few to see Bruce Wayne as he really was, without a persona.

“You took Duke in while we were… unavailable,” his mom said before Bruce could say hello.

“Yes,” replied Bruce calmly, wearing something on his face Duke didn’t often see. Vulnerability. Anxiety .

His dad held out his hand. “Doug Thomas. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of our boy.”

“It was a pleasure.” Bruce shook Duke’s dad’s hand. “Duke was a delight to mentor and guide. I’m glad he has you both back.”

Duke grinned. “He says I’m a delight but he didn’t think so every time I snuck out of the Manor to track down a lead.”

“You were supposed to be on bed rest.”

“And I rested, in a bed, after I solved the case! I do it every night when I sleep—that’s working overtime on bed rest, Bruce.”

“And you won’t be pulling any of that with us, young man,” his mom told him in a stern tone.

Duke quickly made his eyes as wide, pleading, and innocent as possible. He would never, he was about to say, when Bruce told them to come in.

“A better man than I expected him to be,” his dad said once Bruce had moved far enough he wouldn't hear. His mom hummed in agreement. “And Duke, you felt safe with him?”

Duke snorted. “Define safe.”

“Smartass,” Jay muttered, behind the three of them. He’d been through the tour already. He had a begrudging respect for Bruce, but he wasn’t impressed.

“And who taught me to do that, ever since I was a little kid?”

Duke yelped as he dodged a smack from Jay. “I’m fragile, don’t hurt me!”

“You’re not fragile,” said the amused voice coming from down the hall. Cass, here because Duke asked her to be. Because he wanted his family to meet his family.

“Oh! Mom, Dad, Jay, this is Cass.” He dragged them over to meet her. “She’s like… she’s my sister.”

Cass nodded, observing Duke’s family. “Good to meet you.”

At his parents’ confused glance, he told them, “When you were gone, I made new friends, but I also found new family. Cass isn’t your daughter or Jay’s cousin, but she’s my sister.” In his chest, he felt a weight alleviate, one he hadn’t even been aware of. “Wait until you meet Damian. Remember how I always wanted a baby brother when I was a kid, but you guys kept telling me that I was enough of a handful?”

As he kept introducing his parents to the family he made, he felt a warmth grow within him, tickling his ribs, infecting his lungs. It was like he couldn’t do anything but beam from ear to ear, now that he had almost everyone important in his life gathered together. (He would introduce them to Izzy, Riko, and the rest of the Robins soon.)

His family had been shattered, but Duke had picked up the pieces and created something new. And it could never be the way it was, but that was okay. Duke was happy with his family the way it was now.

His parents were home; all his family was home. Duke couldn’t be happier.

#dukeweek2021 #duke thomas #doug thomas #elaine thomas #dc #batfam #crys writes #this doesn't actually have..... a plot. but that's okay <3 #me writing duke and his parents: so how do normal people without my specific parental issues act

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prettyyoungandbored · 3 years

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Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Nine

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: None

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho, @claudiahxrdy (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Bruce’s fingers ran through Demetria’s black hair, tucking a strand behind her ear before his fingers slid softly down her jawline.

She was fast asleep, her head resting on his chest, their legs intertwined. Her breathing was gentle, heart beating slowly against his. Her jacket was draped over her like a blanket. His arms wrapped around her protectively.

After having their way with each other, they’d put their clothes back on with the intention of driving back home, but exhaustion overwhelmed them and instead they opted for sleeping on the floor.

Bruce felt relief wash over him, knowing that he didn’t have to hide from her nor did he lose her in the process. His eyes fell to her stitch on her forearm. The scar would forever be a reminder of his carelessness and he would never forgive himself for as long as lived.

Her eyes fluttered open, a tired smile forming on her lips.

“Morning,” she mumbled, nestling her head closer to him as she basked in the warmth of his body.

He kissed the top of her head, pulling her close to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, but nothing some asprin can’t fix.”

“I have a bottle in the top right drawer. I also have aftercare stuff for stitches in my desk if you need it. I’ve had to stitch myself multiple times.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “You do it yourself?”

“Alfred helps.”

She hummed. “I’m getting you a blanket to keep in here. Maybe a pillow too.”

He chuckled, his lips hovering over the top of her head. “I don’t need it.”

She lifted her head. “But I might.”

“Who says I’ll allow you back in here?” he teased.

“I can make myself very useful to you.”

“You’re always useful to me.”

She rolled her eyes, lying her head back down. “You know what I mean.”

His fingers circled her back as he rested his chin on top of her head. “Dem?”

“Yea?”

“Are all your panic attacks like that?”

She glanced up. “Like what?”

“Like how it was last night?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never had one that intense before. They vary in severity, but usually it’s manageable.”

He closed his eyes, cursing himself even more. He knew he should’ve been there. “What can I do for you when you have them?”

“Just ask me what I need,” she shrugged. “I’ll usually tell you if I want you there or if I want space.”

“You promise?”

“I do.” Her fingers reached toward his hair, running through it. “I appreciate you asking.”

She pecked his lips before stretching her arms carefully, aware of the stitch on her arm. “How the hell did we fall asleep on the floor?”

“I think we were both just were too tired to care.”

She got up, helping Bruce up off the ground. She threw on her jacket. “By the way, how the hell did you and Rachel survive that fall?”

He chuckled. “I’ve jumped off higher buildings. That was nothing.”

She cocked her head. “You live in a penthouse.”

“When you’ve been at it for as long as I have, you get used to it.”

“So you’re not going to tell me?”

He smirked, resting his hands on her forearms. “I don’t want you jumping off buildings.”

She scoffed playfully. “Fine, keep your secrets.” Then it dawned on her. “Speaking of which, does she know?”

“Rachel? Yeah, she does.”

“Anyone else?”

“Lucius Fox. He helps come up with the tools and the Batsuit. All this you see in here is his handy work. As for Rachel, I rescued her a long time ago.”

Demetria nodded understandingly. Bruce put his hands on her hips, pulling her close to him. “I should’ve told you sooner. I just wanted to protect you.”

She gently grabbed his hands. “Be honest with me here, were you really ever going to tell me?”

“I was hoping I could step down before we got married so that I could tell you when it was over so you wouldn’t worry. I realize now how foolish that was.” He paused. “I threw the fundraiser for Harvey because I believe he’s what Gotham needs and deserves. He’s better than Batman. I want him to continue so that the Batman can leave and I can begin my life with you.”

She couldn’t bring herself to be too mad at him, realizing his intentions were nothing but good. She also cursed herself for ever doubting him.

“Well first, know that the right time to tell me anything is when it happens,” she told him. “Second, don’t get me wrong, what Harvey’s done for the city is great but he’s not you. You should be proud for what you’ve done for the city.” She pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek. “I want you to know that if you don’t want to give up Batman, that’s ok. If you feel like you’re done, then that’s ok too. What I don’t want is to be the reason behind your decision.”

He shook his head. “You’re always my reason. Demetria, you’re everything to me.”

Her lips curved into a small grateful smile. “Just know I’m here and I’m proud of you and that you’ll always be my hero.”

‘I’m proud of you.’ Four words filled him with a sense of security he hadn’t felt in a long time. No, he never searched for glory or praise when it came to his Batman or personal duties, but Demetria’s support meant the absolute world to him. He knew his luck and he’d be damned if he pushed it any further.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his thumb wiping her bottom lip.

Her hands moved to wrap around the back of his neck and his hands wrapped her cheeks. “I love you too.”

He leaned forward, his breath hitting her lips for a moment before his lips brushed up against hers.

His kiss was gentle, but with meaning, just like his declaration. If both had their choice in life, they would choose to stay in the moment forever. To stay trapped in the most meaningful kiss that made the world and its problems around them disappear.

Demetria slowly pulled back and rest her head on his chest as his hand rubbed her back. Her eyes shifted over to the computer screens, curiosity filling her eyes.

“So what exactly is this for?” she questioned, motioning her head toward it.

Bruce looked at the computers. “Helps with tracking.”

“Tracking what?”

“Anything and everything.”

She turned her head to him. “Including me?”

His hands were shoved in his pockets, slight embarrassment painting his expression. “Two times. Tops.”

She leaned forward, a playful smirk on her lips. “You’ve spied on me twice? When?”

“First time was the anthrax scare.”

“And the other?

“Huge drug deal happening in the basement of your apartment building.

She hummed, the memory coming back to her. “Ah, yeah. That was a fun time.” Her eyes then widened. “Wait a minute. You called me that night...and you...you asked-.”

“For you to spend the night,” he finished. He nodded. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“So that's why you made me stay at your place for the entire weekend?”

He cracked a smile. “Made you? I seem to recall you not fighting me on it.”

“I just thought you were needy.” She looked back over at the computers. “Would you teach me how to use the system?”

“Why?”

“I want to help you.”

His smile faded. “Demetria, I told you I don’t-.”

“I’m already involved, Bruce. Besides, I’ll stay in here and this is a safe enough space for me. Plus, I worked in journalism. I know how to dig deep and find out things.”

“I thought your job was to get people on shows?”

“We had to do background checks and in-depth research.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Look, I can’t jump off buildings or fight, but I can help with hacking and with research and that’s just as useful to your work as the physical stuff is. Think of it as me

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to fight her. She’d had a point - she was already involved. She was also helpful with the tip from last night. Maybe she could be an asset.

“How do you know to hack?” he questioned, cracking a tiny smile.

“I know people,” she shrugged casually.

He shook his head. “We’ll try it on a trial basis.”

She perked up, her smile widening. “I promise I won’t disappoint.”

“I see you now know our little secret, Miss Gallagher.”

Demetria and Bruce looked over to see Alfred carrying two to-go coffee cups. He made his way to the couple, offering the first cup to Demetria.

“You’re a lifesaver, again,” Demetria thanked him as she took the coffee. She took a sip, the taste of caffeine, half-and-half, and sugar welcoming her.

She watched as Alfred set down the other cup on the desk as Bruce turned the computer systems. Suddenly, the pitch black screens turned to looped videos of The Joker. From security cam footage to his video from yesterday, his presence graced the screen and caused shivers to go down Demetria’s spine.

The memory of the way The Joker’s eyes pierced in to her in the moments before he slashed her flashed in her head. She exhaled, shaking it off so Bruce wouldn’t see.

Just when a distraction was needed, her phone rang. She dug into her jacket pocket to find it was her mom calling.

“Oh shit,” she mumbled.

She walked to the other side of the Bat Cave and pressed the green button. “Hey Mom.”

“Thank god you’re alright! I had Henry calling me at midnight in hysterics, saying you were attacked and hospitalized - I could barely sleep last night!”

“I know I should’ve called-.”

“Thank god for Alfred! Alfred called me from the hospital to keep me and Henry updated. He even called this morning to say you were sleeping in and that he and Bruce had you taken care of.”

Demetria made a mental note to thank him for keeping her mother at bay.

“And Bruce! My god, the poor thing!” her mother went on. “I mean, he got lucky he was only locked in the closet, but it could’ve been so much worse. Thank god the rat guy came in when he did.”

“His name is Batman, Mom.”

“ I called Harvey to check on him and he said Rachel was attacked too?”

“Yeah, The Joker threw her out the window-.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Mom, she’s fine. Batman saved her.”

She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. This was the absolute last thing she needed.

“That’s it! I’m coming in tonight.”

Demetria’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not! You are not coming to Gotham!”

“Demetria, do not fight me on this!”

“Mom, I need you to stay where you are. Now is not the time to come here.”

“I need you to be safe.”

“I am safe. They’re increasing security at Bruce’s place as we speak.”

“What about Harvey?”

“He’s untouchable. He’s going to be fine.”

Her mother sighed in defeat. “Alright, but I want a phone call everyday. You hear me?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And if this continues, I want you, Bruce, and Alfred on your way here or I’m coming in.”

“Fair enough. I promise everything’s gonna be ok. Just do me a favor and keep Henry calm and updated. I’ll call him later.”

“I will. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Demetria hung up, shoving the phone back into her pocket. She made her way back to Bruce and Alfred who were staring at the monitors.

“Targeting me won’t get their money back,” Bruce said, his eyes glued to The Joker’s face on screen. “I knew the mob wouldn’t go down without a fight, but this feels different. They’ve crossed a line.”

“You crossed a line first, sir,” Alfred pointed out. “You squeezed them, you hammered them to the point of desperation and in their desperation, they turned to a man they didn’t fully understand.”

Bruce turned away from the monitors. “Well, criminals aren’t complicated, Alfred. We just need to figure out what he’s after.”

The case that held his Batsuit rose from the ground as Bruce stared at it.

“With respect Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man you don't fully understand either,” Alfred suggested. He made his way toward Bruce, Demetria watching him. “A long time ago, I was in Burma, my friends and I were working for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of the tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit. So we went looking for the stones. But in six months, we never met anyone who traded with him.One day I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away. “So why steal them?” Bruce asked with a slight shrug.

“Because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

As Alfred walked away, Bruce and Demetria looked up at the screen at the Joker’s face.

============================================

Back at the penthouse, Demetria sat in the living room watching GCN’s coverage of the deaths of Police Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb and Judge Janet Surillo. Both were murdered - one poisoned, the other blown up in her own car. Both deaths were believed to have been conducted by The Joker and by the city’s mobs.

She couldn’t help but wonder if what had happened to her last night was premeditated. One of the henchmen singled her out to The Joker, referring to her simply as “her.” Perhaps she was on the list for round one of victims.

It dawned on her that by confirming her friendship with Harvey in her editorial, she set herself up to be a target.

She shut off the TV and began pacing the room. What if the orphanage was next or GCN? What if they were going to blow up her old apartment building with everyone in it? What if they were going to try again?

She cursed herself for writing that damn thing. If only she had just let it go, she wouldn’t have gotten herself involved.

She ran her hand through her hair, when she turned her head over to see her laptop.

That’s when she thanked God she was smart enough to befriend some of the IT people and researchers at GCN.

She grabbed her cell phone and went through her contacts, before finding the name she needed. She dialed the number.

“Harvey, are you at the office?”

“Yeah, is everything ok? Are you alright?”

“Is Grace at the office?”

“Of course.”

“I need you to let go on an errand for me.”

*********************************************************************************

That night in the Batcave, as Bruce suited up in his Batman outfit, Demetria sat at the desk setting up her new laptop.

“And what exactly did you tell Harvey you needed a new laptop for?”

“I spilled water on mine,” she answered, her eyes not leaving the computer. She clicked a key. “There we go! Now if you need me to hack into a place, I’m ready to go. I’m also logged into the scanner and can hear everything, but that’s not as fun.”

“How do you know which security cameras the buildings use?”

“Most places have the same system,” Demetria explained. “At least that’s what I was taught.”

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets,” Bruce noted.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “There’s a difference between my limited knowledge of hacking and you being Batman.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Are you going to be ok in here?”

“I have a blanket and pillow and I’m wearing my favorite sweatpants so I would say so.” She eyed his computers. “I’m still working on figuring out those systems but I should be ok.”

His hand touched her cheek. “It won’t always be like this. Soon, you’ll have me all to yourself in bed all night.”

“And I cannot wait, but for now, focus on getting home safe and without a scratch.”

“For you, absolutely.”

He put on his cowl when Demetria said,” “Scanner is already reporting a shooting at West Point apartment on 78th. Gotham PD is on their way. Checking for security footage now to see if it’s the Joker.” She looked over her shoulder. “Better move along.”

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman fanfic #the dark knight #the dark knight fanfiction #christian bale #christian bale x reader #bruce wayne fanfiction #bale!batman #the joker

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 4

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh

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

Marinette almost missed Hawkmoth. Sure, she ended up extremely emotionally repressed, but hey! At least her opponent was stupid, at least she never had to fear losing.

But, yeah, that was why she didn’t notice the fact that chloroform was on the floor. That was way too smart for a villain, in her opinion. Wasn’t Joker supposed to be insane or something? Why wasn’t he completely stupid like Hawkmoth had been?

Those were her last thoughts before her vision blacked out.

She blinked her eyes open one time while she was being transported, but… it wasn’t enough. Her head pounded, her limbs felt like lead. She tried to pull one of her arms away from the five goons carrying her around -- she giggled at how much effort they were going through to keep a half-conscious person down -- but it was too weak to even break their grip. She wasn’t going to be getting out of the situation anytime soon.

She rested her head back against the chest of whoever was carrying her head.

Her eyes fluttered shut without her permission.

It took a while for her to be able to open her eyes again, and when she did she was almost tempted to close them. She was tied up with Red Robin, hanging upside down over a vat of acid. Decidedly not a good situation to be in. Maybe she could ignore it for a little longer…?

She buried her face in the neck of Red Robin’s suit, using the cool material as a kind of cold pack to try and soothe her pounding headache.

… wait... Red Robin!

She had a bit of protection because of her mask covering her mouth and nose and miraculous immune system, but he was a human and both his mouth and nose were uncovered! Shit!

Marinette pulled back as much as she could to check his face and see if he was okay and then cursed the domino mask blocking his eyes from her view. What she could see wasn’t good, though: the skin of his face had broken out into hives where he had come into contact with the chloroform. Ouch.

She tried just poking the good parts of his face with her nose to get him to wake up, but clearly that wasn’t working. Alright, new plan.

“Red Robin?” She whispered.

Nothing.

“Red Robin Red Robin Red Red Red Red Red…”

She was pretty sure she was doing this annoying thing right. She didn’t have siblings, how could she know?

Wait wait wait, what was that one thing that his siblings always said to him?

“Reeeeed Robin, yum~.”

Not even that got a response? Damn, he must really be out of it.

Time for drastic measures, then.

She tipped her head back as far back as it could go and then slammed her forehead against his. This evoked a lot of swearing from both parties. Apparently, headbutting people doesn’t help headaches.

When her head stopped ringing as loudly, she peeked her eyes open. “Sorry, checking to see if you were alive.”

He gave about as much of a nod as he could. “It’s… I understand why you had to do it.”

She gave a tentative smile. “Right. Still, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, then glanced down to see what they were working with. He bit his lip anxiously. “Ah, that’s not good,” he said after a few moments of consideration.

She rolled her eyes because, yeah, obviously. She didn’t say that aloud, it wasn’t productive, so she said: “I’m going to squirm. See if you can free your arms a little?”

“Do you think I have some kind of gadget in my gloves for every situation?”

“Don’t you?”

He hesitated. “I mean… yes, I do have something that could help us out of the ropes, but we are kinda over acid right now. How fast is your reaction time?”

She tipped her head from side to side with an awkward smile. “Not great.”

“Then maybe we should just wait for backup --.”

“Do you think they’ll get here before Joker does?”

“... you’re right. Start squirming --.”

“Wow, you two hate me that much? I’m hurt,” a voice cooed.

Marinette jumped out of her skin. She craned her neck to glare at Joker for scaring her…

And immediately regretted it. Why was his face not attached to his skull properly? Did he cut his own face off? Who even does that? Ew.

Red Robin scowled at him. “I can’t say we were all glad to hear you were out.”

“Red Robin...” she warned.

“Wow, not even old Batsy was happy to hear the news?”

“Nope. Didn’t say anything, actually.”

Joker’s smile wavered. “He didn’t?”

“Um, Red,” she tried again.

“Nothing,” he confirmed. “Not. A. Word.”

Joker didn’t seem to know what to do about this information. Batman wasn’t even paying attention to him? What was the point, then?

Marinette was also concerned about what was going on, but for a completely different reason. She leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Why are we trying to anger the psychopath?”

He gave as much of a shrug as he could while tied up. “If he’s talking he’s not trying to kill us.”

“And what if he gets angry enough to kill us?”

“He probably won’t.”

She winced. “Okay, I really don’t like your use of ‘probably’ there --.”

With both of their hands forced behind their backs, the only comfort he could really give was pressing his good cheek to hers. It shouldn’t have worked, but apparently life or death situations mess with your emotions.

“Just… trust me?” He pleaded quietly.

She sucked in a deep breath before turning to glare at Joker, who was still having a crisis over the fact that Batman didn’t care as much as he did. Well, she guessed that she had to take out her headache on someone. Might as well be the bitch in ugly clown makeup.

“You know, I don’t even understand why people are scared of you.”

Joker frowned and turned to look at her. “What?”

“I mean, I get why Poison Ivy is feared, I get why Mr. Freeze is feared… I even get Penguin and Riddler since they both have a high enough intellect to make up for their lack of powers… but you’re just… some guy.”

Joker gave her a cold look. “I could kill you.”

“So could a particularly determined cow, you’re not special.”

Red Robin snickered. She smiled, a little proud of herself for making him laugh.

Their grins were wiped off their faces when the rope holding them up dropped.

It caught them again dangerously close to the acid. Red Robin was a few centimeters from getting a new haircut. Marinette wondered, morbidly, whether her suit would go with her if she disintegrated.

“Not going to kill us, huh?”

“... well, I did say probably,” he mumbled, his face a little red.

She swallowed thickly. “If we live, I’m going to kill you.”

“Fair. Want to mess with him if he’s going to kill us anyways?”

“... yes.” She whipped around to glare at Joker again. “I mean, honestly, why aren’t you dead yet?”

“We don’t kill,” supplied Red Robin.

She grinned. “Sure, and I get that. I’m also not fond of murder... but is every citizen in Gotham just agreeing to not kill him? Does Batman spend all his time making sure that civilians don’t do it? Why hasn’t anyone seen him on the street and just tried to run him over?”

“... I mean, Robin hit him with the Batmobile once.”

“See?” She grinned. “And don’t even get me started on Punchline and your goons, Joker. How did you find so many people loyal to you?”

“I love him!” Said Punchline defensively.

“... sweetie, if you want a pasty white guy with green hair just watch 2016 Jacksepticeye.”

Red Robin nodded. “At least he’s kind of funny sometimes.”

“If you need the guy to be evil, how about the evil alter ego he made… what was he called?”

“Antisepticeye.”

“Ha, you’re a fucking nerd,” Marinette teased.

Red Robin blushed (or maybe that was just the blood slowly rushing to their heads from being upside down for so long) and pointedly ignored her: “Look up Antisepticeye. It’ll probably be healthier for you.”

Punchline didn’t have a retort for that. Marinette was deciding that was because she was considering it, not because she probably didn’t know who Jack/Antisepticeye was.

She pushed on: “And, hey, you goons don’t have to give Punchline over there the glory. Stab your boss. C’mon, it’ll be cool. Doubt he’s paying you more than whatever bounty is on his head, anyways.”

“If you’re going to rally henchmen maybe you shouldn’t call them ‘goons’,” suggested Red Robin.

She pouted. “But ‘goons’ sounds cuter.”

He opened his mouth to retort but she’d never know what he was going to say because, at that moment, Signal and Robin came busting in through the skylight.

Tim relaxed when he heard the glass shatter. Whether Marientte’s henchmen rallying had somehow worked or their backup had come, it at least meant that Joker and Punchline were distracted from wanting to murder them.

He struggled to crane his neck to see what was going on.

Oh. Damn. Damian was back from his angsting on the weird murder island? And he was here? Nevermind, he’d prefer Joker and Punchline. Damian was never going to let him live this down.

Speaking of Damian, a weight jumped onto their ropes and the three vigilantes became a pendulum. Tim grit his teeth tightly and Marinette let loose a long string of swears as their headaches worsened.

But, apparently, the world wasn’t done with them. Damian sliced the line at the highest point and they went flying across the room. Tim was the unlucky one on the bottom when they hit the ground, which he doubted was an accident.

Damian left them to deal with things on their own from there. Least he could have done was cut them free with his katana, but Tim supposed that was too much to wish for from the youngest brother.

He rested his head back against the cool floor for a second. He could feel Marinette stretch across his shoulder to do the same. They sighed in relief. This was the closest they had come to treating their headaches and wow was it nice.

But, frankly, resting in the middle of a fight isn’t a great idea. So, they wriggled around on the floor until he was able to flick open the tiny knife in the index finger of his gloves and cut the rope binding them without, y’know, cutting one of them instead.

Freedom! What did they do with this newfound freedom, you may ask? Scratch their heads. Turns out chloroform sucks for many reasons and one of those is that it’s a major skin irritant.

He also vomited. Thank god they’d been freed. He’d been only a few seconds away from throwing up on Marinette. He felt especially bad about that when she peeled a hand from her itching to hold his hair away from his face.

The fight was over soon enough. Duke and Damian came over to watch the two of them attempting to peel their skin off layer by layer.

“Pathetic,” chided Damian.

“Don’t be a dick --.” Marinette cut herself off, her hand flying to her mouth. “I swore in front of a baby.”

“I’m twelve!”

“Exactly: a baby.” She reached out and cupped a very affronted Damian’s face in her hands. “Look, you still have baby fat! You shouldn’t be fighting crime!”

Tim couldn’t tell if she was messing with Damian for being rude to them or if she genuinely saw him as a little kid. He wasn’t going to correct her. She’d remember he was a gremlin soon enough.

Damian wrenched his face from her grip. “If I hadn’t come you two would have been burned in acid.”

“Please, we all know Signal probably could have dealt with this entirely on his own,” Marinette waved him off.

Duke rested a hand over his heart like he was touched.

Tim rolled his eyes and pulled Marinette to him, resting his head on top of hers lazily. “We should get a checkup at the cave. Chloroform has… not nice effects and we both rolled around in it a little while fighting.”

Duke and Damian both winced, but Marinette didn’t seem all that concerned.

“I’ll be fine. My immune system is enhanced by --.”

Duke clapped his hands by her ears as loudly as he could. Neither Marinette nor Tim were particularly happy about it.

“Behold: a headache, one of the main symptoms of chloroform. Your face also has some red streaks, so don’t even try to deny that the chloroform is affecting you.”

“I take back my praise, I’ve decided I hate you,” she murmured, massaging her temples.

“I just remembered that I need the siren on my bike on to tell all the other bats we’ll need them at the cave...”

“Wait, no --.”

Marinette glared at Black Bat and Spoiler. The batboys had left the infirmary area for her own comfort and that was nice of them but she would really prefer if she hadn’t had to come at all.

Now she sat in some of Black Bat’s pajamas and one of Spoiler’s spare masks as they inspected her.

Her nose scrunched as Black Bat drew blood from her arm.

“This is dumb. I don’t need this.”

“We’ve been told. Humor us?” Spoiler said and, though Marinette couldn’t see her face from where she was, she knew she was rolling her eyes.

“I would if you were actually funny.”

“I think we can definitely put her down for irritability,” commented Spoiler.

Black Bat nodded and dutifully wrote it down. Traitor.

The cool metal of a stethoscope was pressed to her back and she cringed.

“Deep breaths.”

Marinette complied, however reluctantly. Might as well get all this bullshit over with as soon as possible.

… she was regretting that decision, now, though.

She gave Batman a cold look. “You can’t keep me here.”

“You need to stay so we can monitor your state overnight. You could have asphyxiated.”

“But we didn’t,” complained Red Robin, who looked just as annoyed about this as she was.

“We have lives, B,” she said.

“You weren’t going to do anything other than patrols tonight, don’t act like I’m tearing you away from something important.”

“The protection of the city is important,” Red argued.

“Neither of you would be much help tonight in the state you’re in, anyways.”

Red Robin stuck his lower lip out in a pout. Marinette gave her best puppy-dog eyes.

Batman wasn’t moved. “If you need something, Agent A will provide it.”

She blinked, eyes returning to normal in her confusion. “Who --?”

He disappeared into the shadows before she could finish the conversation, something she was, unfortunately, getting used to.

Marinette scowled at where he had last been.

Maybe she should have expected this, maybe if she had been less out of it she would have. They had given her pajamas when she’d had clothes and insisted on cleaning her old ones ‘for chloroform’. The checkup might have been a genuine checkup on her state, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered what the results were. She was always going to end up staying the night in the cold, dingy cave filled with bats.

She sighed and laid back against the stone floors. She heard Red Robin groan and looked up to see he had been locked out of the Batcomputer for the night. He leaned back in his chair and mumbled curses.

She giggled at his distress and, despite himself, a tiny grin poked at his lips.

“Want to race to see who can hack into it first?” She suggested.

He raised an eyebrow at her under his domino. “Think you can win?”

“Considering I don’t know that much about hacking, I’m going to say probably not.”

A wide smile spread across his face, now, and he waved her over. She took a seat on the desk beside the keyboard and he started teaching her everything.

Most of what he said, while technically heard, wasn’t exactly understood. She couldn’t concentrate. It was the first time she had seen him in anything but his vigilante suit and she decided that that was a crime because he looked so cute in the Batman-themed pajamas. Furthermore, the way his long hair was pushed back by a headband to keep it out of the green paste spread over his face to alleviate the chloroform’s rash reminded her of a spa day in all those movies.

And then there was the smile. It made her heart flutter in her chest because she was so used to his grins but this was just a genuine smile. He looked so passionate about the intricacies of cyber crime. She was almost sad about the domino hiding his eyes because she wanted to see the way they lit up while he explained different ways viruses could be accidentally downloaded to devices.

Basically, she was a mess for this random cute guy she worked with. She had never seen him so casual and at ease and it felt far more intimate than it maybe should.

She rested her head on her hand, nodding along as he talked about data encryption versus decoding.

Well, maybe a forced sleepover in the Batcave wouldn’t be so bad...

Tim was suffering a lot more than he would ever admit, and only a small part of it was due to chloroform.

He was going to be having a sleepover with one of his idols and he was going to be spending a large amount of the time trying not to throw up. And she could totally tell, too, why else would she be watching him so intensely? Someone kill him, please. He was so glad he had a secret identity because he didn’t know how he would manage if she thought Tim Drake-Wayne was a loser.

Granted, she was going to think Red Robin was a loser... but at least he had a second chance as Tim.

He rested his chin on the back of his chair. He had hacked into the Batcomputer already but it was a relatively dull night out on patrols and he wasn’t eager to be yelled at for showing Marinette some files on top of already hacking into them when he wasn’t supposed to.

“Wanna do something?”

She grinned. “Is there anything to do here other than train?”

“... nothing approved.”

She tipped her head to the side. “And of the things that aren’t approved?”

He matched her grin. “Well…”

And that was how he ended up setting up a movie projector in the cave so they could watch Groundhog Day. Marinette had taken to making them a pillow fort.

Duke stumbled down the steps, half awake, and raised his eyebrows at them from behind his domino. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that they had made and took a long sip before sending the two of them a wary look. “Do I want to know?”

Marinette didn’t look up from her and Tikki’s base construction. “Dunno. Do you want to watch Groundhog Day with us?”

He frowned. “Isn’t that the one where that guy in a time loop stalks his co-worker until he knows enough to make her fall in love with him?”

“Just say you don’t like romcoms and go,” Marinette irritably.

“I’m fine with romcoms, it’s just… a little messed up that he uses the knowledge he gets from being in a time loop to ensure she falls for him?”

“It’s a story about self-improvement,” Tim said, sending his brother a glare. “He grows as a person until he is worthy of her love.”

“Him learning about her is part of his arc. He starts off selfish and he ends it with a deeper appreciation for other people,” agreed Marinette.

Duke held his free hand up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Enjoy your stalker movie.”

“It’s not a --,” Tim tried to argue, but Duke was already heading back upstairs.

He huffed a little and finished setting up the computer and projector, then took a seat in the pillow fort. She poured each of them a cup of coffee, put a straw in hers to maintain her identity, and then took a seat beside him.

He took it from her with a bright smile and turned on the movie.

She rested her head on his shoulder as the happy-go-lucky music started up.

Unfortunately for them, they didn’t manage to stay awake for all that long. Duke had drugged the coffee pot.

Marinette shifted awake a while later and promptly decided that being awake sucked.

Nothing about her current situation sucked, of course. At some point during the night they had fallen asleep and now she was laying half on top of Red Robin, clinging to him like a koala. He didn’t seem all that upset about it, though, with his arm wrapped around her and his face buried in her hair.

Unfortunately, the time on the bottom right of the Batcomputer’s screen told her she didn’t have much time to enjoy it.

She started the slow process of extracting herself from him. Getting the arm off of herself was easy, getting his face away from her head was much harder (this wasn’t helped by the fact that the paste on his face had stuck to her hair).

There was one scare where she thought he was going to wake up. She pushed herself off of his chest and he took a long breath in. Marinette froze, watching his lips tighten… and then he turned over in his sleep.

Oops, apparently she’d been suffocating him a little in her sleep. Sorry, Red.

Well, at least she was free now.

She slipped out of the pillow fort and glanced at the time again.

Even less time to do what she needed. Because that’s how time works.

She sighed and called Tikki over with a tiny wave of her hand, walking over the edge of the railing. She looked down at the abyss that stretched many feet below.

Tikki couldn’t have looked more disapproving if she tried.

“It’s just a little insurance,” Marinette signed.

This didn’t make Tikki any less upset with her, but she hadn’t really expected it to. She signed for her transformation. She tied herself to the railing with her yoyo as a precaution and then hooked her legs around the railing.

And down she went.

She flexed at an awkward angle, flashlight in her mouth, and stuck a tracker to the bottom of the platform.

And, really, she wasn’t intending on using it. Like she said, it was just insurance. They had drawn blood from her earlier and she knew for a fact that it wasn’t necessary for chloroform inhalation. The only reason that made sense for that was that they wanted to check and see if she had inhaled some but they already knew that so… what did they want with her blood?

She was willing to bet it had something to do with her secret identity. And, hey, she didn’t particularly care if they knew her identity, she trusted them, but if it ever got out because of them revealing then who the bats were would be 1) revenge and 2) a good distraction.

“Hey --?”

Thank the kwamis she had tied herself to the railing because she’d been surprised enough to let go of the platform.

“Shit, sorry!” Said Red Robin.

She pulled herself back up onto the platform with his help and then collapsed on the cool stone. She spat the flashlight from her mouth. “Fuuuuuuck, don’t do that again, please.”

“Sorry,” he said again. Then he glanced back at where she had been and, momentarily, his lips pulled into a frown. “I gotta ask: what were you doing?”

“Hm?”

Shitshitshit.

“Oh, I wanted to see if there was anything down there or if it was just for The Aesthetic.”

“Why not just use your yoyo to go down?”

She shuddered. “The flashlight barely did anything. Would you want to go down into that darkness with no clue even how far down it goes?”

He seemed to accept the answer. “It’s an old iron mine. No one uses it anymore, though.”

She nodded her understanding.

She pushed herself back up to a sitting position and looked at him.

“The bats don’t get back for a while and we’re still on lockdown, so… want to do something?”

Damian was the first one to get home. Apparently he had broken a leg on patrol. This was fine (well, maybe he shouldn’t have been driving himself, but whatever).

What was not fine was that he had promptly decided to be an asshole.

Tim and Marinette had been playing Minecraft on the Batcomputer and, like all younger brothers, Damian asked to play.

And, like all older brothers, Tim barely looked up from his controller to tell him: “No.”

Damian looked to be on the verge of a meltdown.

Marinette sighed and sent Tim a tired look. “Red, don’t be mean. He’s just a kid. There’s more controllers, we can just give him one.”

“But…” He started. Damian was a terrible partner to play Minecraft with because he never helped out with anything except for the farm.

However, Marinette was looking at him expectantly. Tim bit his lip, considering.

Damian looked between the two of them and a wicked grin spread across his face and oh no.

Damian took a seat next to Marinette and gave her puppy-dog eyes (a real feat, considering the fact that he was wearing a domino and therefore his eyes were invisible). “Miss Ladybug, can’t you please make him let me play?”

Marinette gave Tim a tired look. “Red, c’mon, just for a bit.”

Damian smirked a little but, by the time Marinette turned back around, he had schooled his face back into a pout.

She handed him her controller. “You can have mine. I’ll find another for myself.”

The two watched her leave and Tim sent his younger brother a glare. “I can’t believe you would embarrass yourself this much just to play a game.”

“Anything to annoy you, ‘big bro’.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but then Marinette came back and all he could do was send him a glare behind her back.

Damian retaliated by sitting himself on Marinette’s lap. She looked down, amusement making her eyes crinkle, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. Damian smirked and stuck his tongue out at Tim.

That little shit.

And it continued on for hours while the three of them waited for the rest of the bats to come back. Damian would cling to Marinette in some way and he would become the bad guy for glaring at a child. He was seriously considering breaking the No Killing Rule for this kid.

Finally, though, people started coming back and apparently Damian thought it too embarrassing to do such a thing in front of more than just the person he was trying to annoy because he clambered off her lap to play just a little bit away.

Bruce was the last one to come in and he looked at his kids with the patented Batdad Glare because they had managed to drag Steph into playing with them (without much effort) and Cass into watching (with much more effort). Which meant that there were currently five family disappointments. Yay them.

Tim smiled innocently. “What? We got bored. Maybe you should let us out so this doesn’t happen again.”

“I’m keeping you here for your own safety.”

Marinette and Tim both groaned.

“I have work to do.”

“Me, too.”

Bruce didn’t relent because he was a stubborn asshole.

But that was fine. They really hadn’t expected them to. Tim glanced at Marinette and she twirled her index finger against her flat palm, the sign for ‘start’.

One flash and smoke bomb later, the two of them were running as fast as they could to his bike. He grinned as he helped his giggling friend get on and hopped up himself. Arms wrapped around him tightly and her face buried in his back. They tore out of the cave, giggling all the while.

#stalker x stalker #maribat #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #theyre paranoid bastards your honor

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Ok, but how would the Shadow get along with Superman?

I'm gonna try something a little different with this ask, because I couldn't really find the right words to answer it the way I usually do. So instead I took the more complicated route and ended up writing a fanfic of sorts, about potential interactions between these two I could think of.

I don't think I'll make a habit out of answering replies through fanfic but, I don't know, something about this question kinda demanded from me a different type of answer. I never wrote Superman before but I do need to get back to writing.

So here you go, the Shadow - Superman fanfic I wrote to answer this. Hope you enjoy.

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They were not friends. They were not enemies. They had their separate worlds to watch over, and rarely did they cross each other. Rarely did they meet under desirable circumstances.

The Shadow, as Superman knew him, was not a part of Superman's world. In more ways than one.

Clark knew that he was a man who was mainly active during the 1930s and 40s, that he had been a crimefighter active in the United States during that time, that he has some connection to Bruce and other heroes he knew, and that he has an associate related to Lois named Margo, but somehow, Clark could never find him on his own accord.

Even when he time traveled to said period, he could never find him. Lois and Margo share a bloodline, but Lois does not recall what exactly of what sort, not even under Clark's machines. When he asked some of The Shadow's associates, they could not recall him, and Clark knew for a fact they could not have been lying. Some of them existed in this world but with "ordinary" lives, and others didn't.

Although he seemed to come from an alternate world,there were times when The Shadow appeared to have history in this world as well. Real, tangible history, that seems to be willed out of thin air and to dissappear when Clark goes looking for it. Even Bruce seems to not remember him, and Bruce's the one who seemed to have spent the most time in his presence.

He couldn't quite say he looked fondly on his meetings with The Shadow, if he could be honest with himself. He was cold, remote, harsh and manipulative. He murdered criminals without remorse, something that even he admitted had soured his relationship with Bruce, and terrorized those he fought to a much greater extent than even Batman, who Clark already thought was going too far at times.

Clark knew he was not an evil man, he was certain of the compassion within him that thundered to protect the innocent, but Clark could hardly be certain of how much he knew about him in the first place. Clark, who could see through crowds and make a shopping list out of what each person had eaten for breakfest that morning, could not identify The Shadow's face through his mask, could not see what was behind his eyes.

Clark is extremely aware of the standards he must adhere to in order to operate as Superman, the ways in which he must be held accountable as someone operating above and within society. He understands the importance of his friends and allies that can stop and defeat him, the family he must look after, the reputation he must uphold, the control over his powers and a lifetime of experience in holding himself back. At times he was even grateful for the existence of Kryptonite as a desperate measure. He knows that Bruce goes through a lot of measures to keep himself in check as well.

But he knows little about The Shadow, who works for him, why they do so, who can hold him accountable, who is going to help him when he can't help himself. He worries about what his world must look like, to create a man like him, brainwashing people and gunning down criminals in the streets while laughing. How much good can such a man do if this is what his approach to justice looks like? What is the toil that such a grim approach to life has taken on this man's life?

He knows that overthinking is one of his worse flaws, but Superman can't help but dwell sometimes on the worlds he cannot save, on those that must take on such realities. He only wishes he knew how to find The Shadow of his own accord and try to bring peace to the man, even if he knows better than to assume peace is what he's looking for.

It is the nature of Superman to never stop trying to bring everyone to a world beyond death, darkness and sorrow, and to blame himself for those he cannot save even from themselves.

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It was a well-known fact that The Shadow always worked alone. And like most known facts about him, it was not entirely accurate.

The Shadow strives to cultivate the image that he's alone, untouchable, that all who work for him do so because he forces them to. That he always tells those he saves that their lives belong to him, that they are trembling slaves to a monster sniffing blood in gutters.

Distractions, lies, smokescreens he must create, to allow his agents to operate as spies, and spare them from the wrath of the police and the criminal underworld alike, too busy hunting a legend to notice the flesh and blood people working under their noses, people they would otherwise be all too happy to neglect or stomp on.

Misdirection, the secret of any magic trick. The true secret of The Shadow's invisibility.

There are days where the only positive thought in his mind is that his agents cannot join him wherever he goes.

The success of The Shadow depended heavily on the vast networks of agents and allies he'd gathered over the years, people from all walks of life who trusted him and had chosen to join him. Every courageous move, sacrifice and pivotal role they played was carefully recorded in his files, and never forgotten. They had skills and capabilities The Shadow did not, and The Shadow was proud to see the ways in which they would cultivate those into the betterment of the world around him.

And though the bridge between them was unassailable, though his ways and actions were secret and mysterious to them and they could never know more than he allowed, they received constant signs of The Shadow’s appreciation of their reliable cooperation, and at many points The Shadow had made said bridge less unassailable for their sake.

But they were not his friends. His allies were distant and occupied with fights The Shadow could assist, but not fight for them. His agents were subordinates rather than equals, expected to play the necessary parts and leave the scene for their own safety just as quickly. His friends were few, and often dead. And when it was the moment of danger, The Shadow fought alone. The protection of others came above all else, and on field, although they were expected to think and strategize for themselves and work together, The Shadow's word was final.

There could be no distractions, no hesitations. Those had cost him more than enough on the battlefields of the Great War, mistakes he would never repeat again. The sacrifice of companionship, his own personhood and self-preservation is an acceptable loss for the sake of those he must protect.

There are occasions when The Shadow is forced into circumstances beyond what logic and physics should allow, and in some of those occasions, Superman had been involved in them. There are occasions also where he has to work side by side with other vigilantes, and sometimes, they also include Superman.

He couldn't quite say he looked forward to working with Superman. His arrival almost inevitably carried chaos into the inner workings of reality. The existence of an omnipotent being able to crack planets with a footstep and liquefy crowds with a gaze, held back only by his human personality, was a danger that thankfully did not exist in The Shadow's own world, but was a worrying prospect regardless.

Few of his experiences with aliens and superpowered warriors could be said to be positive ones, and a lifetime of knowing the evil in the hearts of men had taught The Shadow how easily even the best of intentions and the most solid of morals could be corroded and destroyed. It didn't help matters that this being was also a public crusader and celebrity passing judgement on criminals, even while secretly holding a private dimensional prison to throw them into should they be sufficiently dangerous. Someone completely unstoppable and unaccountable, even to death itself.

The Shadow understood Superman to be a good man, a moral man who had been raised well to be the best he could. The Shadow respected and treasured the existence of those like him, men and women and everything in between that could breathe in the sun and uphold mankind, while he dwelled in the underworld to make sure those more like him would not rise to attack them.

But whatever the rewards of these partnerships, he was glad when they were over. His work requires full control. He cannot tolerate the loss of it.

Others can dream of better tomorrows and work to make them happen, his is the task of clearing the darkest paths so others need not tread them.

Hope, light and comfort are noble gifts, but they are not his to give.

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The first time they met had been the result of Vandal Savage's Hypertime Collider, a trap designed to keep Superman running circles through the timestreams, cycling through alternate versions of himself. He had landed in the 1930s, somewhat depowered, in a world where some allies of his existed, but superheroes were nowhere to be found (although some people reacted in terror at him, shouting "IT'S DANNER! HE'S COME BACK TO KILL US!", the significance of which was lost on Clark).

He had met a woman named Margo Lane when looking for this world's Lois, telling her he was a farmboy from Kansas lost in the big city looking for a friend with the same last name. Margo didn't recognize anyone named Lois, and Clark could tell she was only pretending to believe his story (even though it was true, in a sense), but through her, he met a tall, gaunt and hawk-like millionaire by the name of Lamont Cranston, a name Clark recognized from an old radio show Jonathan used to listen.

He had an idea of who The Shadow was. An old detective from a radio show or pulp magazines, sure, Superman's been to worlds he used to think were fictional before, some people still think he's as real as Santa Claus (who was going to join him and the Easter Bunny for checkers next Sunday).

Their conversation of platitudes was cut short, as it wasn't long before the Hypertime Collider was soon transporting him to a different time period, but before he was ejected, he remembered the moment their conversation ended.

Shortly before he could feel the Collider breaking and warping time and space in a chokehold around him, he remembered an eerie silence fall on the room. Though his hearing senses in this world were diminished, he could still pick up minute sounds from miles away, and it was a strange sensation to hear the sound of nothing. A sound that did not exist but silenced everything around it with deafening precision, a sound that Clark had not heard even in the deepest recesses of space, when he could still hear his body's metabolism at work. For a moment, though he did not need it to survive, Clark worried his heart had stopped working, for he could not hear it.

It surely was the Collider's effect at work, he reasoned.

But in that brief moment, whatever surprise he expected to find on Cranston's expression was nowhere to be found. Instead, scattered shadows slashed across his face as the air around him changed and he closed his eyes. He was still wearing Cranston's face when he opened them, and once again, they did not match his face.

The last thing he remembered before his ejection was a voice that cut through the air and the meters separating them, that sounded like a python hissing in Clark's ear, from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"This is not your world."

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The second time was in another dimensional sojourn, this time of his volition.

Having borrowed a portal from Cyberwear Enterprises, Clark was rehearsing a speech intended for the Reginellian people of the Bohren System, one he was expected to give through blinking in reverse morse code, and in order to ensure the atmosphere of their planet would allow them to hear him, Clark intended to pay them a visit. But instead, he was transported somewhere else.

Before he could properly register the time period and location he had landed, he had encountered The Shadow in the middle of rescuing a steamship on fire from sinking.

He was clinging to the side of it unseen from the panicking passangers, drilling bullet holes to the bottom of the ship so it would fall to the side and steer clear from a passing fireworks yacht. He was holding a rope attached to a nearby tugboat with one hand, and with the other he was clinging to the boat's window. The tugboat was moving outside of the steamship's range, and as it moved, it would drag The Shadow and tilt the steamship as he gripped it, just enough to prevent the steamship from colliding head-on with the coming barge.

The tugboat had three men within it, one piloting it and two holding on to the rope that The Shadow had attached, working along with The Shadow to try and pull the steamship. One of these men had a missing eye and was dressed in aviator gear, presumably the pilot of the autogyro atop the tugboat. The other was a tall, muscular black man in suspenders, who dwarfed the pilot in both size and strength.

The strain of their pull could dislocate The Shadow's arms at the very minimum, if not outright kill him, his plunge would carry him 20 feet into the water and potentially under the sinking steamship. Still, they pulled with grim determination, although the boat driver had his eyes closed, and Clark recognized the Yiddish mutterings coming from his mouth as a desperate prayer.

Though they did not see him, these men were extremely thankful when Superman had blown out the inferno with a single breath, and pushed the boat all the way necessary for it's passangers to land on the barge safely, and rescued The Shadow.

Of course they knew the Chief was gonna pull through, he always does.

If The Shadow was thankful for Superman's interference, he didn't show it. In the second he had regained enough strength to talk, he rattled off dozens of names, of passangers in the steamship that had been bruised, by either the flames, the panicking crowd, or the criminals that The Shadow had stopped. People that needed to be taken to medical assistance faster than the ambulances could carry them, of family members that had to be contacted.

He did so without looking at his rescuer, for he remembered Superman, who expected his presence in this timeline to have been erased after he'd destroyed the Hypertime Collider.

Nothing indicated it hadn't been.

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Their most recent encounter was the outcome of an accident where Vandal Savage had trapped Superman in the Arctic and rebuilt his Hypertime Collider, in the hopes of contacting alternate versions of himself so they could all gain Superman's powers and conquer their worlds.

One of said versions was hunted by The Shadow through the portals. The adventure ended rather quickly as the Savages all turned on each other in their tried-and-true method of solving problems with large rocks, but amidst the chaos, a final burst of energy had granted The Shadow a temporary access to Superman's powers.

Thoughts passed through Clark's head of the last time Bruce had accidentally gained access to Superman's abilities, and how despite his best intentions, Bruce couldn't help but overestimate his own ability to wield said powers responsibly. Of how many times he's come across iterations of Bruce who've gained superpowers and used them poorly or tyranically.

He thought of how often he needed to reign himself back, and of the man in black who stood before him, with eyes like thunderstorms ready to break.

The ways in which he is like Bruce, and the ways in which he is decidedly not.

But before Superman could take any sort of action or even ask how he was feeling, The Shadow turned around silently and started walking, straight in the direction of the Fortress of Solitude.

Upon reaching it, he took the million-ton key from beneath the rug that spelled Welcome in a million languages, opened the door, and walked straight into a high security anti-Superman cell within it, designed specifically as a desperate measure against rogue Kryptonians, only stating Superman was going to have to watch him so he couldn't escape.

Clark had never even told him about the Fortress.

He stayed there for the next 12 hours, as Superman ran tests on him to ensure his body wouldn't be negatively affected by the transformation. Clark chose not to remark that some of the bone-deep injuries he had spotted on The Shadow's body previously had healed, as he knew it wouldn't take long for him to acquire new ones after this was over.

They talked briefly at points, and for much of it, The Shadow assumed the façade of Cranston. Sometimes he remembered to breathe and blink, things he forgot to do with startling ease once he no longer needed them.

Clark understood it to be a diplomatic gesture, a façade over the untameable and fearsome Shadow who was frankly unnerving to be around. Even a kind gesture, an effort to address Superman as a man asking for help. Not different than how Superman would prefer to be Clark Kent in order to approach people and ask questions and say things that Superman could never say.

There was a discomfort, of course. There would always be one between the two.

Still, Superman took it as a victory when, after the 12 hours were over, he heard that familiar hiss, with equal intensity but no aggression or even contempt, spell out a "Thank you", as he turned around and was unsurprised to find The Shadow no longer there.

They were not friends, they were not enemies, they belonged to different worlds. They were opposites in their battles for truth and justice.

But truths are often opposite. It is a truth that not all opposites are opposed.

Truth is often as chilling as it can be comforting.

#replies tag #superman #the shadow #clark kent #lamont cranston #my writing #i gotta start putting more of my writing out there and idk i just felt like i had to answer this question this way #i don't question what my brain tells me to do anymore

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ships-bynoa · 3 years

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The Titans are almost back, bitches. aka 3x06

Guys, literally every time the titans are together-or even paired up-the episode gets ten times better, but in 6 episodes there is simply not enough Kory and Gar. I can easily forget that when I’m basking in the episode they are in, especially when they’re giving us family dynamics.

Kory:

“You’re not mad that I left. You’re mad I came back.” Kory’s face tells us Blackfire is right on the money, and who would know her better than her sister?

So, Kory, oh boy. Our girl is on edge. She is slowly unraveling and is super vulnerable and raw with Kom around and little sister is going to exploit it and her guilt, which I think she’s carrying a lot of. So far their dynamic has been fascinating because there’s so much to read between them and so many accusations being flung back and forth, from both. From Kory; you sense guilt and even contempt and from Kom there’s envy and resentment, but also there’s a sense of idealization for her older sister, too, which of course, with younger siblings, there always is an element of that. And as an older sibling, there is always an unspoken and sometimes spoken responsibility placed on them for their younger siblings. Parents often don’t realize it, but they can create a lot of tension within siblingships by assigning roles.

They remember home and family very differently, which is often the case, too. Kom was often thrown in the pit and to that, Kory attributes her sister’s constant rebellion as the reason, and yet, Kory herself was a bit of a rule breaker, sleeping with her guard, Fiddei.

Kory was being suffocated by the laws and customs of her home planet; one could say she rebelled by going on a mission, to escape her duties. Home did neither of them any favors because while one rebelled because she did not fit in, the one who did fit in was dying inside, surrounded by little robots and becoming one herself. Being told what to eat, wear and who to love or be friends with is yikes.

I was thinking Kom began her game of manipulation in the bunker, but she really started before that when she sent Fiddei to bring Kory home when she probably intended to kill him all along. After all she would’ve castrated him if she’d had the chance to for sleeping with Kory in the first place. Shortly after Fiddei’s death, Kory flamed out. No powers. Emotionally wrung out from the news her family was dead and now the culprit is here. These two know each other very well and know exactly how to get underneath each other’s skin. Right now Kom is getting underneath Kory’s and our girl is losing patience fast.

I’m wondering when exactly Dick will tune into Kory’s anxiety-ridden state and step in to support.

Ultimately, I just want to see what truly happened to the girls on their planet and how we have the versions we have now. Like, Kory said to Rachel, “No one is born good or bad, we are defined by our choices.” I get the feeling Kory has given Kom so many chances to make a different choice and has become disillusioned, meanwhile Kom believes nothing she does will give her the respect she feels she deserves anyway, so she may as well blow shit up, figuratively and literally. At least then she’ll have Kory’s attention.

Gar:

Gar losing it on Dick was so cathartic and yet he could’ve gone much further, considering Dick abandoned him last season to go jail and hallucinate Bruce. It ultimately led to Gar (and Conner) being kidnapped and experimented on by Mercy. It’s actually all the adults fault this happened, but as the leader promoting his family everywhere he goes, he needs to keep his eye on the ball. He would know if he spent five minutes at home with them that Gar is struggling. Last season Gar was #OperationSaveTitans and this season he’s #ThisFamilyIsDying. He’s doing what the adults should be doing, or at least leading the charge on it. He’s the glue, but who will hold him together?

He’s carrying too much emotional responsibility and Dick’s dismissal, because he is fully locked into Gotham and being Batman, makes me mad. Get your head in the game, Grayson. Gotham is going to eat your family while you retread the nostalgic steps of your past.

We all know Dick’s not good at expressing himself emotionally, though he’s usually forced to express something when talking to or being confronted by Kory, so I was proud of him for giving Gar the floor to speak. I just wish Gar spoke about himself, but then again, he needs more time and consistent offers to be heard. I’m happy Dick followed up the conversation up with a bonding/training session. There was definitely pride in Dick’s face because Gar really has come a long way in this group, but he needs MORE SCREEN TIME. I’d like to see the two of them out in the field together the way we’ve seen Kory this season with Gar and Conner.

I wonder if Gar losing control is the start of all his trauma bubbling up to the surface, will being in Gotham, hunting down a friend be too much?

As a side, has the CGI tiger face gotten worse?

Kom (and Conner):

First thing’s first, what music are we thinking Kom listens to? Probably the kind of music she can break your tailbone to, like, Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole and Jay Z, or Prince, Jimmy Hendrix, Stevie Nicks and Led Zeppelin? Rihanna?

Kom is absolutely a villain this season and if she isn’t, what a waste that’ll be. A mastermind at mind games (see, her picking up the chess piece), who is going to drum up Kory’s paranoia and anxiety around her being there. Trying to kill her suspicion by guilt tripping her while simultaneously being a do good-er to the group, feigning interest in helping the Titans to earn her way in, a tip from our boy, Conner.

She says she wants acceptance and I believe that’s absolutely true, but she doesn’t know how to get that without using power, so she’ll continue to covet acceptance through and with power because according to Kory, she’s always been a climber. Add to that, being born the cursed child and the only royal member born without the gift of fire, something that differentiates them from the common folk, being too frail to participate in the same games as Kory, having a speech therapist be her only friend while being the object of ridicule and you have a villain origin story nicely set up.

I really enjoyed Conner and Kom’s exchange. The boy lit up when he spoke about seeing his family happy and it made me light up. He’s so genuine and has a big heart and Kom is going to take advantage of it, that’s not to say she won’t develop real feelings for him, but she can like him and still use him.

Conner’s “you have to earn your way into the family,” is perhaps an internal and personal struggle he has from sharing blood with Luthor. I think it may come from an insecure place because he was made a titan as soon as he woke up and no one questioned it, but as he’s only half of superman, he’s constantly trying to prove his usefulness for good, which losing Hank has rocked, leaving him vulnerable to Kom’s recognition for his otherness. Their otherness.

She gave us insight into her mind, but also she has likely seized an opportunity to use the vulnerability against Conner and to her favor by making him her kindred. Outcasts. Will she gain influence over him? He’s still young and learning, and trusting, too.

Her interest in him felt layered, ignoring the ugly customs of sex servants, she was also observing Kory’s relationships and ranking them in her sister’s life. Her being able to determine who may have Kory’s interest (which Kory gave away with her vulnerable display of worry over Dick’s welfare in front of Kom) will surely come into play at some point, right? After all, Kom did kill Kory’s last lover/royal guard. This may be me projecting. LOL.

Romantically, I’m waiting to see how they play it before I decide if I like it or not, but so far, they have a nice chemistry. Friendly.

Dick (and Barbara) :

What a lovable dumb ass.

I was so happy Kory lost it on him and called him on his lone ranger shit, at least when it’s her, even when he’s being an idiot, he’s still listening. “Let’s go.” and I thought it was hilarious that he tried explaining himself, but when Gar called him out, he got all huffy with, “Excuse me, young man.”

Gar asking Kory not to have words with Barbara over Dick getting shot was so funny because Dick’s face seemed to ask the same when she asked how it happened. We love a protective Kory. I’ll be looking at him when it’s his turn to reciprocate.

I don’t like him dismissing their concerns about his personal safety and how it affects them, it’s like he’s learned nothing after running off alone to battle Trigon, or rather has unlearned his lessons of S2. I’d like to see some more permanent emotional growth from him by this season’s end. In his current state, he’s not an exuding leader. He can’t be when he’s still wrapped up in Bruce and all things Gotham. He’s not tuned into Kory’s anxiety, or Conner’s grief and insecurity, or Gar’s emotional burden.

He’s started making it up to him, but he has much to do in taking Gar’s concerns and emotional needs seriously.

I’m not even going to try and work out the timeline between Barbara and Dick and Dick and old Titans in San Fran and S1. But it doesn’t bode well that Dick’s dream with Barbara ended in a nightmare.

I wish they’d never did the whole Dick and Dawn relationship in S2 because they’re basically repeating some of the beats in showing us how they don’t work as a couple, only his relationship with Babs makes a lot more sense even though I don't care. Dick has unfinished business with that relationship, Bruce and Gotham and I can only hope he’s wrapped it up for good by this season’s end. I want to see relaxed, smiling and happy Dick in THE PRESENT. I still Babs will be the one to notice and point out Dick's feelings for Kory.

Barbara (outside of Dick) is being downplayed a little, no? Dismissing Dick’s suspicions about Jason when he arrived, showing no knowledge of Jason’s visits to Crane and then taking the bait and moving Crane after he got a light beat down. A commissioner who was also a very capable vigilante is tricked by a recording and goes to meet “Bruce” on her own. I really enjoyed that she could hold her own and the fight scene was really good, but it was a bit baffling that she fell for that ruse. So far, she’s not entirely good at her job.

Dick’s a distraction in his own right and her feelings clearly get in the way, which is why she keeps asking him to leave the precinct and Gotham; because she’s pining a fantasy and he’s ruining it. Lastly, I really like the way Savannah plays Barbara.

Why’d they do that to Tim?? :(

Overall, it was a better episode and I enjoyed it more than latter episodes, but they’re not quite there yet for me. I’m still waiting for Team Titans.

#dc titans #kory anders #koriand'r #stafire #gar logan #beast boy #dick grayson #nightwing #conner kent #superboy #noa posts

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

Text

Favorite color

Ever since he was born, his world was filled with colors, a beautiful rainbow at his fingers. He’d look down at them at night, or when his parent’s leaving made him want to cry, or when a horror story told by a classmate in the playground scared him half to death, and find comfort in their silky touch and bright hues.

He was seven when he learned the meaning behind them. And the blaring lack of red signaled the first, but not last, heartbreak of his life.

Blue, green, purple, black… and bright yellow. A teacher, a missed opportunity, a first love, life and death… and friendship. No eternal love for Tim, it seemed.

Well. He hadn’t really expected any different. Who would love him forever, when his own parents didn’t?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He had forgotten it, and it escaped his notice for many years. Until one night, following Dick Grayson as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, when he noticed his purple string moving in synch with him. Pointing towards his hero, the boy who had given him his very first hug that night at the circus. His First Love, his Not Meant to Be.

That night, Tim packed up early and went home. He just couldn’t stand the red uniform contrasting sharply with his purple thread.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Dick left, he thought maybe now he could go back to his old habits, to run the streets looking for flashes of the new robin without the baggage of avoiding to look at his own hand.

No such luck.

The green made a whole lot of sense when news of Jason’s death reached him, tough.

It wouldn't be the last night he’d cry himself to sleep, holding the frayed ends of his fated Almost.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Becoming Robin was both easy and painful. Comfortable, because the blue string pointing him towards Bruce meant this was always supposed to happen; heartbreaking, because it took a kid dying. Because Tim might not have a romantic soul mate, but his hands, that had made a green string break to grant him access to the blue path, were stained red nonetheless.

Wearing Robin’s red, with all the hurt and bad memories it carried, felt like a subpar punishment.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Meeting his Yellows almost passed his awareness. In the middle of a crisis, every adult missing, no mentor to guide him, he couldn’t exactly spare a thought for the kids looking shellshocked at him, each other and their hands.

After, when Young Justice was officially formed, he firmly avoided looking at Bart, Superboy and Wondergirl. Their eyes followed him, pleading, but he’d learned no good ever came from strings that weren’t red.

And the red in his soul wasn’t from love.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Despite himself and his best efforts, they grew closer. Life or death situations had that effect on people, after all.

His own reluctance, which had in turn provoqued Kon’s anger, Bart’s dejection and Cassie’s confusion, slowly began to crumble. He was helpless in the face of their unrelenting friendship.

The strings grew shinier, stronger, healthier, the yellow a stark contrast to frayed (dead) green, cold blue, distant purple. Scary black.

Tim still despised the rainbow in his fingers, but… he could maybe withstand the sparks of yellow he’d catch from the corner of his eye, knowing just who were at the other end.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It wasn’t exactly team training. Greta, Anita, Cissie, Slobo and the others didn’t join them, for whatever reason. It was always the four of them, leaning on and learning from each other.

When Kon’s strength frustrated him, when the world around him seemed to be made of bubbles and sea foam, Tim stayed late at night every weekend to help. Every spare moment directed towards coaching him, again and again, through exercises he had to come by himself (Clark was no big help, here), until exhaustion made his muscles tremble and Kon’s anger had burned out from frustration to soft acceptance that he just wasn’t like the rest. Until he could hold still and let Superboy trace the side of his jaw with a careful finger, and exchange proud little smiles when his face remained unbroken.

Bart being raised by video games had the expected outcome; he had little to no practical, day to day life knowledge. He was the closest living thing to a Looney Toon. Which was fun and good when crime fighting, his crazy ideas often saved their ass last minute, but unacceptable if integrating him into society was to be considered. So Tim would take him out, hand in hand so he didn’t forget himself and ran on his own, to leisurely stroll down busy streets, arcades, schools, libraries. Talk to people in parks and visit recreational centers, barter with street vendors and ask the little boy selling flowers on Jump Street how his mother is doing. Whatever Tim could think of that would soften Bart’s cultural shock.

In that regard, Cassie was a godsend. With her own attentive mentor, and raised like a normal girl until she obtained her powers, she was the most well balanced member on their team. Tim had started to feel a little restless (how can he help her, how can he convince her to stay…), when he noticed her frustrated, sad face whenever Donna was mentioned on Tv, when any reporter or older hero compared the two Wonder Girls. Familiar as he was with imposter syndrome, Tim would rest his arm around her shoulders and turn to the rest of the team, loudly reminding everyone to ‘speed up guys, Cassie here’s already done with her training routine’ or slump tiredly against her while complaining about ‘how immature they are, I can’t deal, thank God you’re here to remind me competent people do exist’.

It was familiar, to help them along. To nudge them forward and watch their backs as they went, firmly making their way towards being the awesome men and woman he knew they’d become. Lending a hand here and there, working on steading their foundations, so he’d be remembered fondly when they inevitably took off and went on with their lives.

He was used to that, to looking for ways his fated people would want him around. Being a good brother to Dick, an eager student to Bruce (a good mourner for Jason).

What he wasn’t used to was reciprocation, though.

Tim had learned how to fly from the best, from Dick Grayson himself.The boy with no powers that looked at gravity and laughed, sayed “thanks, but no”. But there were some things only a true meta could experience, ways to move his body just so, to take advantage of wind currents to either speed or slow his movements. Kon also visited him in Gotham, unknowing or uncaring about its meta restriction, risking pissing off Batman himself just to spend time with Tim.

There was Bart, kind, cute, friendly Bart, who would stop eating and playing around to drag Tim to the training grounds and run laps around him, as silently as he knew how. Making Tim used to fighting against someone quicker than him, lighter on their feet. To count incredibly soft steps even when they made no sound, and use other senses to pinpoint exactly where the next hit was going to come from. And after they were done, there was always a warm smile and some sweet treat (always different, as if Bart was determined to figure out Tim’s preferences by trial and mistake), the new knowledge and delicious prize worth the dirt in unmentionable places.

As stated before, Cassie was an absolute godsend. But it wasn’t just because she was easier to deal with than the rest. Or because she understood the pressure he had on his shoulders, being raised in the shadow of two incredibly renowned heroes. When Tim’s position as leader had been taken away (after Bruce’s plans for taking out the league became known, and ‘what if he has the same for us’), she took him aside. Hugging him, promising him the team’s anger was going to pass, that she could see why those contingencies might be necessary, that even if she was officially in charge, she’d always defer to him when it mattered. Her trust in him and his heart was unshakable, firm as the arm he’d put round her when self doubt arose its head.

(It wasn’t supposed to be this way; if they reciprocated, they didn’t owe him, and then how was he supposed to keep them close? To convince him to stay, to love the boy with loveless fate?)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jason was unexpected, but Tim couldn’t hold it against him. Even there, bleeding out in the Tower, he felt… at ease.

His predecessor was back. Bruce’s son was back. The prodigal Robin had returned, by some miracle. Tim’s shift had come to an end; even if he died here, he had succeeded in keeping Bruce sane, and now that the real deal was in town, Jason could take over and everything would go back as it should have been. Everyone (B, Dick, Babs, Alfred) would be happier. Maybe they’d mourn him, for a bit, but with such a joyous occasion as a beloved one returning home, it wasn’t like grief could stay for long.

Someone yelled, near. Warm hands shaking as they touched his face infinitely careful, small fingers intertwined with his in a very familiar hold, a strong and slender arm around his back as he’s being held in a half hug. Cries, pleas, demands.

And while nothingness claims Tim, drags him to a well of black, yellow still clings to his eyelids. A touch that keeps him warm even though unconsciousness is supposed to be so cold.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Death and life. Damian.

Tim can see the first one, what with all of the brat’s attempts to end him. It’s the second one that has him stumped.

He knows not all strings go both ways. His purple one, for example; even if Dick was Tim’s first love, everyone and their mother knew Babs’ was his. Dick had a string pointing towards Tim, but it was a mentor-student one. Same as the one he and Bruce shared. Jason, too; Tim’s side of the string was the green of Almost, while the former Robin’s color was black (Tim taking his place as Robin, and being the only one in the family offering his hand again and again despite his murderous actions, was in some poetic sense the death of an old role, and the birth of a new family dynamic).

Damian, though… Well. He was almost sure they had the same color for each other (how else to explain such dangerous rage), but really, unless the kid was willing to share, it was only suppositions for now.

His only comfort remained the three beams of light, of a yellow almost golden in its healthy shine.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Tim changed his suit following Conner’s death, everyone thought it was an homenage. A way to pay tribute to a hero that was his closest, dearest friend. A way to never forget (as if he could, ever, with the lifeless line of pale beige, once yellow, dangling from his twitching finger).

They weren’t wrong, but it wasn’t just that.

Red had always pained him, in a deep, almost forgotten place. A thorn on his side, scratching against his heart. For the longest part, yellow had filled him to the brim, until hurt and yearning had no place inside him. With Kon’s warmth missing, red bleed in the place between Cassie and Bart, despite their best efforts to close ranks and keep it out.

Their sad eyes followed him during the funeral, knowing what the color meant to him. Just how much he was hurting himself, right now. But, lost in their own grief, there was little to be done.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By the time Tim got the call about Bart, he already knew.

He ignored the ringing phone, holding a sobbing Cassie in his arms, both desperately clutching at their only remaining yellow string.

Between the two of them, color like blood seeped.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Every so often, when Ra’s voice in his ear became too familiar for comfort, where lines draw in sand begane to erode and blur, he’d raise his hand, eyes locked on the three yellow strings, and watch as Cassie’s moved, disappearing end pointing always in her direction.

He was fairly sure that, wherever she was, she was doing the same. Reminding herself he was alive as well, hadn’t left her behind.

Her absence from his life was necessary, finding Bruce a priority, and the red of his new suit (his new name) was proof of just how deeply it all ran. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t yearning for her lighter color.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They were back, and he was hiding.

He wanted to run to their arms, hug them and never let them out of his view, far from where he could protect them (keep them). He wanted Kon’s hand on his face, delicate despite his strength, un-trembling when Tim’s own would softly join it on his check and held it there; Bart’s fingers between his own, too steady and constant for the boy who didn’t know how to sit still; Cassie’s arm on his waist, his own on her back, as they shared the weight of the world in their shoulders.

And because he wanted so damn much, he couldn’t do it.

He was covered in red. His first love discarded him, his Almost died so Tim could have his Teacher, his Life and Death was so heavily focused on the last bit… his hands lacked red, but oh, how much he leaked of it in his soul.

He couldn’t let them die again, be stained by his twisted fate; even if it meant he could’t hold them close any longer.

Letting go was more painful than holding on, but he was used to it by now.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They find him. Of course they do; even without Kon’s senses, they all have beams of gold pointing them towards him, like Dorothy’s yellow brick road.

Tim knew it, was ready for it. And as such, had prepared the words that would push them away, to where it was safer.

Or so he thought.

“We are not leaving you.”

“Who cares about fate? You are ours, Rob.”

“It’s been long enough, Tim. Time to come home, we are done waiting.”

He denies them, shakes despite his usual iron clad control over his body, heart wrenching painfully at their decided expressions.

“You don’t understand. I’m Red Robin now. I’m not… I’m no good for you.”

“I could literally snap your back with the flick of a finger, shut up with that ‘I’m dangerous’ bullshit.”

“Yeah, even Bart could be dangerous given the right circumstances, you aren’t the only one here to watch for. It doesn’t mean shit to us.”

‘

“That’s right, I- wait, what do you mean ‘even Bart?”

“Not the point, Imp.”

They don’t get it. He takes his mask off, wants to give them a good look at his eyes, to read his emotions there and finally realize what’s wrong about him.

“Almost all my strings have something to do with death, or were touched by it. Don’t you see it?” He raises his hand, despite knowing they can’t see his strings, only their own. “I have no red here, only blood. I can’t… I’m not safe to love. I’ll never be loved.”

Kon snaps, something he had rarely done since their Young Justice days, hands on Tim’s shoulders, seemingly torn between shaking him and pulling him close. The latter wins.

(As it always does)

“This is love, you idiot! WE love you!”

Tim chokes on something (saliva, his own breath, emotions). Gasps, tears coming to his eyes unbridled.

He feels two pairs of arms joining the first one, a cocoon of warmth and unconditional love forming around him.

Bart’s sad eyes watch Tim from under Kon’s hug. “I don’t have red either, Rob. Romantic, platonic, filial… who gives a fuck”, he shrugs, before hiding his face against the red of Tim’s uniform. Uncaring of all it represents for him or perhaps doing his best to defy it.

Cassie just holds them all in the circle of her own embrace, forehead to the back of Tim’s head. Her hold is the tightest, and he just realizes- she lost all of them, didn’t she? To death and grief, all too far to touch, and now that they’re back in her arms, there’s little chance of her ever letting go again.

“Love has more than one form, Tim.”

He shudders in the middle of this weirdly emotional dog pile, and thinks. About Bruce and Dick’s pride when they successfully taught him something new. Of Jason’s reluctant smile when Tim first tugged him along to some joined patrol, sneakily edging him closer to the family with every interaction. Of Damian, who would often look down at his own hands (and Tim would honestly kill someone to know just which color the young boy had for Tim) and then at him, with something like hope in his green eyes.

He thinks… yeah. And this one…

(He gives up, closing his eyes and snuggling deeper into Kon’s chest, knees buckling but staying up thanks to his three rays of sunlight holding him in place between them.)

This one’s shape might just be his favorite.

#my writting #core disaster week #day two #Red string of fate #tim drake #kon el kent #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #jason todd #angst #you've been warned

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Six Eggs in the Nest

Bruce returns from his trip through time to discover that not only had his kids grown, but so had his family. An old face had reappeared in his absence.

Part of the Six for the Age of One AU

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

“How are you feeling?”

…

“Come on, Bruce,” Clark sighed. “As subtle as it might be, your heart rate still changes when you wake up.”

Bruce grunted, not opening his eyes.

“Good to know your trip through time didn’t affect your language skills.”

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing of note on the League’s front,” J’onn reported and Bruce finally opened his eyes to see the martian was looking over Bruce’s vitals.

“Just business as usual,” Diana agreed from the doorway.

Bruce turned to Clark, who was sitting in a chair next to Bruce’s hospital bed. “Gotham?”

Clark gave a soft smile and answered the unasked question, “The kids are fine. They’d be here, but I guess Ivy and Freeze got into a fight just as they were about to leave and Penguin tried to use the distraction of the fight to move cargo or something.”

“I checked in with them just before you woke,” Diana said before Bruce could get worked up. “In Oracle’s words, I threw Harley at Ivy and Nightwing, Signal, and Corvid smashed Freeze’s helmet so that fight’s basically won. Batwoman reported that her team had taken down Penguin and were supervising the cargo’s transport to the evidence locker before heading in.”

Bruce nodded, relaxing. “I’d assume Batwoman is Stephanie. Nightwing… Dick?”

“Yeah,” Clark said, looking smug. “And Corvid is Damian. Tim’s going by Ghost Bat now.”

“When you disappeared, they all stepped up to become heroes worthy of your legacy,” Diana said. “You would be proud of how strong they’ve been.”

“I am proud.” He simply wished he’d been there to see them through the transition. “How long was I gone?”

“A year,” J’onn said, apologetically and Bruce nodded.

That was longer than it had been for him, but not by too much. A year though…

He’d missed most of the kids’ final year of high school. He’d missed their graduation. He’d missed helping them sign up for college.

Was Duke enjoying his literature studies? Did Stephanie go through with her plans to start the pre-med track or make good on her jokes about taking a year off? Was Damian able to decide between a business or veterinary medicine major? Had Tim figured out what he wanted to do? Did Dick change his mind about not continuing school?

And little Carrie was still so young. Would she even remember Bruce?

“What’s the cover story for Bruce Wayne’s disappearance? And Batman’s?” Bruce asked, pushing the rest down. “I’ll need to figure out how to spread out my appearances so no one becomes suspicious.”

The three shared a look and Bruce’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not that simple,” Diana said slowly.

“I’ve been standing in for Bruce Wayne with Timothy’s help,” J’onn said. “It was Duke’s idea. Richard had taken up your mantle, but he wasn’t able to convince those who really knew Batman so I was going to pretend to be you until enough time had passed that we could fake your death without it being connected to the change in Batman. Then Timothy and Damian found evidence that you were alive so we’ve kept up the ruse.”

Bruce nodded. It was a good idea, even if Bruce didn’t exactly feel comfortable knowing the martian had been impersonating him for so long. Something else caught his mind, though. “If Dick is Batman, why is he also going by Nightwing?”

“Dick was Batman for a while, but… someone else is Batman now,” Clark said, uncertainly.

“Who?”

“We don’t know. The children won’t tell us,” Diana said. “They’re as stubborn and secretive as their father.”

“About six months ago Batman just… changed,” Clark explained. “We didn’t notice at first since Richard was still the one showing up for Justice League stuff, then Nightwing appeared in the news. It was pretty obvious Nightwing was Dick. We thought that maybe he was setting up his own hero for when you came back, but Batman was seen working with Nightwing and all the rest of the boys. He’s also more…”

“Vicious?” J’onn offered. “And dramatic, but in a grim way. His fighting style is firmer as well, in a way Dick couldn’t manage no matter how much he held himself back. His Batman is more genuine than Dick’s. To the point that, from what we’ve gathered, those who realized he had replaced you already think you’re back.”

“We tried asking Dick the next time he came up for a meeting, but all he’d say was that he wasn’t ready to see us,” Diana added. “Clark went to Gotham -”

Bruce glared at the kryptonian.

“I know, I know. Your kids caught me within minutes and Stephanie gave me a lecture you’d be proud of. And don’t act like you’re not burning with curiosity. Do you even have an idea who it could be?”

“Did you find out anything?” Bruce redirected and Clark shook his head.

“I couldn’t see much because the cowl is as lead-lined as you always had it and he got out of there fast once Stephanie intercepted me. He was tall and broad like you and what skin I saw was fair, so he couldn’t be any of the boys.”

That… didn’t add up. Who would the boys have trusted with Batman? “I need to get home.”

All three looked like they wanted to argue, but J’onn unhooked him from the monitors.

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

The cave was empty when Bruce teleported in, though the still-warm cup of tea next to the Batcomputer’s keyboard and the lit-up screens showed that Alfred had recently been monitoring the comms before stepping out for a moment.

“- anything yet?” came Robin’s -- Nightwing’s -- voice when Bruce hit the button to unmute the main comm line.

“Wonder Woman said he was still unconscious when she checked in,” Oracle answered.

“Batman, Batwoman, and I will be at the cave in a minute. The two of us can head up immediately and report back,” Ghost Bat offered.

“Speak for yourself,” Batwoman huffed. “You can hang around Wonder Woman smelling like a sewer all you want, but I need a shower.”

“You will wait for us or I will give all your sweatshirts to Goliath as nesting materials, Ghost!” Corvid snapped.

“Nah, Goliath can do better than G’s hoodies. Besides, he’ll just go steal some from Metro. I’m pretty sure half the ones he’s got now are clone boy’s anyways,” laughed a voice Bruce didn’t recognize. Batman’s, he assumed. Something about it nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it. He was sure he knew the person though. Was he altering his voice for the suit like Bruce did? It didn’t have the growl, but maybe he was just making his voice deeper. If his voice was higher…

Bruce was torn out of his musings by a snarl. He turned to see a large groenendael stalking towards him. Behind the dog was a massive pillow with five other dogs atop it. A Great Dane was stretched out regally at one end, wagging his tail but otherwise not paying Bruce any attention. A lab and a pit bull were flopped over each other limply in the middle, fast asleep. A German shepherd was standing on the other end, just as alert as the groenendael without the aggression. A Chihuahua was similarly eyeing Bruce from her spot tucked under the Great Dane’s chin, kept quiet and still only by the larger dog’s presence.

Bruce wasn’t surprised the dogs had invaded the cave in his absence. He could only hope Goliath and Wiggles had continued to be cut off in their separate portions of the cave and Alfred the Cat hadn’t been allowed to torment the bats.

He knelt and held out his hand. “It’s alright, Jane. It’s just me.”

The groenendael quieted at his voice and continued approaching him. The closer she got, the more relaxed she became until she was close enough to cheerfully lick and nuzzle at his hand as an apology for growling.

“It’s okay, girl. You’re doing a good job protecting the cave while everyone’s out.”

Ace was at his side in an instant to sniff him over for injuries and nose his neck in a greeting Bruce easily returned. Titus yawned and turned away as things calmed down, which allowed Ami to leap to her feet. She gave two quick yaps at Bruce, then stomped over to curl up on a corner of the pillow. Haley and Hazel slept on.

A moment later the roar of an engine echoed through the cave, heralding the arrival of the Batmobile. Bruce’s spot was slightly hidden from the vehicle bay, so he had the chance to observe the three that climbed out.

Batwoman’s suit wasn’t too dissimilar to the one Barbara had donned during those two short years she’d held the mantle. All Stephanie had altered was swapping out the red on the bat, belt, cape lining, and wig for her signature eggplant.

Ghost Bat’s suit was black, sleeveless, and made from the same lightweight armor Tim and Dick always used. A grey bat was across the chest, the color matching his gauntlets. He wore a cape and cowl like Batwoman’s, though the cape lining and wig were grey. The wig was also cut short to match Tim’s chin-length locks instead of Stephanie’s chest-length curls.

Batman’s suit, at first glance, looked exactly like Bruce’s. On closer inspection, though, it appeared thinner, closer to the medium bulk armor Damian and Stephanie used. There were also knives hidden across the suit and the cape was shorter than Bruce kept it. His build appeared to be just as Clark described, but Bruce knew the suit enough to tell it was making him look broader in the shoulders and the boots’ soles were altered to make him look shorter. Bruce estimated him to be a few inches taller than himself and around Duke’s width. The visible portion of his face was a pale beige, distinctly different from Dick’s olive tone or the other boys’ darker skin colors.

“- soft and roomy!” Ghost was arguing. “It’s no different than you stealing Bruce’s!”

Batman shot him a perfect Bat-Glare, as the kids called it. “I don’t have any of his sweaters!”

“That’s because after you steal them, Alfred always washes them and puts them back in B’s closet,” Stephanie snorted, pulling down her cowl. She gave him a wink when he turned the glare on her. “Just because you only wear them to bed doesn’t mean we don’t notice. Also, Tim’s stolen horde isn’t just Kon’s. He also got some of mine, Cassie’s, Duke’s, Damian’s, and yours in there. Dick’s and Cissie’s aren’t baggy enough and Bart’s are scratchy. He’s also got one of Kori’s because he took it thinking it was Babs’ and now he’s too embarrassed to give it back.”

“STEPHANIE!” Ghost shouted as Batman snapped, “Is that where my green hoodie went?”

Stephanie snickered as she turned to head deeper into the cave. Her eyes caught Bruce’s and she froze.

“What’s wrong?” Batman asked and he and Ghost followed her gaze.

“Kids,” Bruce said after a moment of trying to figure out what to say.

Batman stiffened and Stephanie smiled. “Hey, B.”

Ghost shot forward, but stopped just before he reached Bruce, looking like he was barely holding back from throwing himself at Bruce.

Bruce took the decision away from him by pulling the boy into a hug. He pulled down the cowl to press a kiss to the top of Tim's head as the boy started to shake slightly with silent tears.

“So B’s here,” Stephanie said and he heard her voice echo through the comm in Tim’s ear.

“What!?”

“He’s supposed to be resting on the Watchtower.”

“Of course they couldn’t keep Father contained.”

“We’re on our way.”

“You’re here,” Tim whispered and Bruce pressed another kiss to his head.

“I am. I’m so sorry for being gone.”

“Tim’s the one who found you,” Stephanie said as she walked up. “Or, well, he’s the one who made it possible for the JL to find you.”

“I heard. I’m so proud.”

“Damian helped,” Tim muttered, burying his reddening face further into Bruce’s chest.

Bruce rubbed his back for a few seconds, then pulled away so Tim could pick up the Chihuahua nudging up against his ankle. He made sure Ami was helping Tim calm down before nodding at Stephanie. However, he soon found his gaze shifting back to the unknown factor.

Batman was still standing where he’d been the last time Bruce checked. He looked frozen in place, only his hand having shifted so that it could rest on Jane’s cheek. The groenendael was staring up at him as she licked and nuzzled at his wrist and hip in an effort to draw him back from wherever he was, though Bruce doubted he could feel it through the suit.

She must have realized it too as a moment later she stood up on her hind legs with her forepaws on Batman’s chest so she could lick at his chin instead, snapping him out of it enough that he looked away.

It was then that Stephanie glanced over her shoulder to see what Bruce was staring at. “Shoot.”

“What?” Tim asked, tucking Ami to his chest. He looked at Stephanie, then Batman, then his eyes shot to Bruce. “Oh. Crud. We really meant to do this slowly.”

“Are you two going to introduce me?” Bruce grunted.

His eyes were still on the stranger, but he could see both eighteen-year-olds open their mouths to respond. Before they could, Batman nudged Jane off and reached up to pull down his hood.

Bruce’s breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, Dad,” Jason said, running his fingers through his black and white hair.

Ace nudged Bruce’s side, just under his ribs.

He took a breath, then another.

“What part of do this slowly didn’t you get, Jay!”

“We all know he wasn’t going to rest until he figured out who I am. I’m just ripping off the band-aid.”

“This isn’t my Earth,” Bruce said.

The three shared a look and Tim pressed into Bruce’s other side. “It is.”

“My Jason is…”

“Dead?” Jason finished. “Yeah, it, uh, didn’t take. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Not the time, Jay!” Steph sighed. “Come on, Old Man. You look awful. We’ll explain once you’re sitting down.”

Bruce’s hands itched to grab Jason. To grab him and pull him close and never let him go again.

He kept his hands to himself as he followed the kids to the meeting table. They had just enough time to get settled when the elevator dinged and Alfred stepped out with a fussing Carrie in his arms.

The butler took in the group, then gave Bruce a pointed look. “You are meant to be resting.”

“I had to check on the kids.”

“Of course you did.” Alfred came forward to deposit Carrie into the arms of her honorary grandfather then set a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Master Bruce. We’ve all missed you.”

Bruce nodded and looked down at the toddler.

She blinked up at him before smiling and poking his cheek. “Boosie back!”

“Yeah, Sweetheart, I’m back,” he said, voice hoarse.

Three motorcycles shot into the cave, the boys on them quickly jumping off. Bruce set Carrie on his knee as he took in his rapidly approaching sons.

Nightwing’s suit was similar to Ghost Bat’s, though his had sleeves and he had just a domino in place of the cape and cowl. The suit was black with a cobalt V across the chest that resembled a bird. The wings stretched all the way to the shoulders then ran down the sleeves to end at the tips of his middle and ring fingers. The blue color carried over to his domino mask and the trim of his boots. A pair of escrima sticks poked out from behind him and black pouches were connected to the waist of the suit like a built-in utility belt.

Corvid’s suit was black with a matching utility belt and carried the same moderate bulk Damian preferred. A long, hooded jacket sat over the suit, sleeveless and colored sapphire with white trim. It sat open, revealing the white outline of a bird stretched across his chest. The suit was finished off with a black domino mask with equally black lenses and tall emerald boots.

Signal’s suit looked the same as it had when Bruce was sent away, and Bruce took comfort in the fact that not everything had changed.

Stephanie ducked down for a quick hug, then removed her daughter from Bruce’s lap so she wasn’t crushed when Nightwing threw himself into it a second later.

“You’re so stupid for running off from the Watchtower, but I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, holding the boy close with one arm as he reached out to grab his youngest’s hand.

Corvid squeezed back as he glanced over Bruce, then let go and left to take a seat.

After giving Bruce a quick hug around Nightwing, Signal went to grab his own seat as well. He pulled off his helmet and looked pointedly at Jason before turning back to Bruce. “Guess it’s storytime, huh?”

“You couldn’t even keep it a secret for five minutes?” Damian tisked after he’d removed his mask.

“He was ripping off the band-aid,” Tim mocked.

“We all know how obsessive B gets when someone puts a mystery in front of him,” Jason huffed, throwing his hands in the air.

“It is something you’ve all inherited from him,” Alfred hummed as he began to set cups of tea in front of everyone except Carrie, who got a sippy cup of warm milk.

Dick squirmed around so he could remove his mask and accept his cup of tea, then made himself comfortable in his father’s lap.

“You’re getting too old for this,” Bruce teased, wrapping his arms around the eighteen-year-old, and Dick shushed him.

“Where should we start?” Stephanie asked.

#batfam #batman #bruce wayne #Jason Todd #Robins are the Same Age AU #fanfiction #64ao1

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thevindicativevordan · 3 years

Note

Any thoughts on Grant Morrison's Action Comics run? Beyond T shirt-and-jeans Superman being great.

That whole run reinvigorated my love of the character.

There have been numerous thoughtpieces about New 52 Superman, how he worked and how he didn't but these two entries really do a great job of summing up why Morrison's take on Superman was great. Morrison laid the foundation for a new generational Superman that DC completely fucked up and ran into the ground. I'll always be bitter about that, even if I had tapped out of reading the New 52 Superman books by the end due to how bad they got. Editorial and their idiotic mandates were what screwed over the potential of this take in my eyes.

Now I get that it wasn't to everyone's taste, but I cannot fathom how anyone could ever claim that Pre-Flashpoint Superman was better. If you liked Byrne's reboot better, your guy already got rebooted after Infinite Crisis. For someone like me who really enjoyed the Johns/Busiek era, that era's potential got spoiled after Johns & Busiek left, with New Krypton imploding and the awful Grounded taking it's place. When you get to the point where the best Superman book is the one starring Lex Luthor, it's time to reassess the franchise and figure out where the hell it went wrong.

Which is exactly what Morrison did. For this new Superman, Morrison mined all the best ideas of every Superman era to really give what I consider the ideal "base" for Superman. They also took pains to address common criticisms about Superman, working to correct his pop culture image. People have been complaining that Superman is "too perfect", "too unrelatable" for a long time, so Morrison addressed that. They gave Superman his balls back, and let him reacquire that Golden Age edge he had originally.

There are a lot of complaints you can make about Morrison's Superman, but I don't see how you could accuse this guy of being "flawless" or "bland". He definitely had a personality that you could describe, love him or hate him. Compassionate, but not a pushover. Clearly holding himself back, but unafraid to occasionally let loose. Flaws that were patently obvious, Clark had a temper here that could get him into trouble. There was a real showcase of anger here, of Superman being furious at the way people were treated by the rich and powerful, then doing something about it that I ate up.

I read this run just as I was coming into my teens and it hit perfectly for where I was in life. Did not want a Superman who would smile and tell me it gets better, I wanted a Superman who looked you in the eye and told you he felt that same anger, and then encouraged you to go out and do something about how you felt. That was what this run delivered in spades, and it expanded what I believed could be done with Superman.

While it totally blew my mind to see Superman acting this way the first time I read Morrison's Action Comics run, in retrospect it really isn't that different from how Superman has acted even under Byrne. One of the few traits I've seen carry across Superman incarnations in the comics is that he has a temper underneath that affable nature. "Don't tug on Superman's cape" as the old song goes. This run simply elevated that to the forefront of the character again, for the better in my eyes given I believe "Wrath" is Superman's Deadly Sin.

In fact, one of the strongest features of this run is that Superman gets actual character development over the course of the run, analogous to what Batman underwent in Morrison's Bat-Epic. While the Bat-Epic was merely Morrison re-canonizing Batman's entire history, and applying a retroactive character development storyline that culminated in Morrison's current Batman work, their Action Comics run had them attempt to craft something similar for Superman from scratch. What that meant was Morrison attempting to draw on the most important traits of every Superman era and incorporate those into this new take. So Superman had the Golden Age temper, compassion for the oppressed, and cockiness. The Silver Age supergenuis, proud scion of Krypton who cherished his Kryptonian nature, member of the Legion of Superheroes, and participant in stories that weren't afraid to get weird. Superman's wrestling with his place in the world, the importance of Clark Kent, and making journalism a key part of the character strike me as all being hallmarks of the Bronze Age. From Post-Crisis we got that Clark views himself as human and loves his adopted parents, considering them as equal to his birth ones.

One of the big frustrations for me with the endless origin stories for Superman, is that so many of them follow a predictable and stale formula where Clark puts on the suit and is essentially ready to go. Doesn't interfere with human affairs, is modest and humble, restrained in usage of his powers, it's like Clark has meta knowledge of what he "should" be, despite that he shouldn't have any foreknowledge of what a "superhero" should look like. He operates the same way at the start as he does in the modern day, and that's really boring to me. This Superman, because of the difference in powers and attitude, operated extremely different from his "present day" incarnation. Dangling Glenmorgan over the edge of a building isn't something a fully powered and mature Superman should do, but it works great to make his early days different and exciting to read about, it makes returning to that era something you can do different storytelling with. This run is the only time where I really cared that Superman is "supposed" to be the first superhero, because figuring out what that means here is a big part of how he develops.

We all know the common complaint that Superman is "too powerful" and that "nothing can hurt him" (funny how Thor never gets hit with those accusations), so Morrison made sure to show that this take on Superman could be beaten even if he could never be defeated. Events conspired to force Clark to use his brains as well as his powers to overcome the challenges in front of him.

Examples include him using his heat vision to fry Lex's equipment and escape the military, using his rocket ship to defeat Brainiac, and rallying the population of Metropolis to banish Vyndktvx. Not to say that Clark never used his brains before to win, but this run was very upfront and in your face about how important Clark's intellect is to triumphing over his foes. Can't take seriously the complaint that Superman is too overpowered when Morrison constantly showcased how even a very powerful Superman could get his shit wrecked by his Rogues.

Another example of Morrison addressing criticisms is Kryptonite. A lot of people poke fun at how convenient it is that pieces of Superman's homeworld follow him all the way to Earth. Isn't that a bit of an asspull? So Morrison made Kryptonite the power source of Superman's rocket, giving it a perfectly natural and believable reason both for it to end up on Earth, and for Lex & the military to get a hold of it since Pa Kent gave the military the rocket. That's still my preferred explanation for how Kryptonite ended up on Earth.

It also provides a better explanation for all the different Kryptonite variants. DC can handwave away the different types as a result of Lex experimenting or the different "forces" on Earth such as magic or the Speed Force or whatever creating the different variants. That to me is much more believable than Kryptonite travelling all across the galaxy yet still ending up on Earth somehow.

There have also been a lot of complaints about Superman's villains, and Morrison diligently set about reworking them. By far one of my favorite aspects of the run, was the villain revamps. Nimrod felt like a clean revamp of Terra-Man, making him into Superman's Kraven the Hunter struck me as a patently obvious route to go, wild no one has followed up on that or used him since. Metallo felt like a good synthesis of Johns take of him as an Anti-Superman weapon, and the sympathetic aspects of Corben's origin that are always there, I liked that Morrison didn't make him a total bastard before his transformation like Johns did. Brainiac got some sympathy added to him in that the collected worlds that were already marked for damnation, thus he was "saving" them in a fashion. Clay Ramses embodied toxicity as a wife-beater even before becoming Kryptonite Man, and I thought his backstory was a great way for Clark to still deal with "real" issues via a manner he could punch. Ramses is still the best take on Kryptonite Man. Vyndktvx felt like the greatest realization of the threat Mr. Mxyzptlk could pose should he decide to get serious since Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?, plus I'm a sucker for stories where superheroes fight the Devil. Drekken and Superdoom took the only interesting aspects of Doomsday (his ability to evolve and that he can kill Superman respectively), and were much more interesting characters.

And oh my God, speaking of Superdoom, that part of Morrison's Action run has aged like fine wine. I don't know if they caught wind of DC's plans for the character, or if they were just prescient, but everything that Superdoom is playing on is still sadly all too present. What Superdoom is as a character is a condemnation of what DC keeps doing with Superman: killing him off or making him evil.

When you realize what Superdoom (demand for a more violent and "realistic" Superman) and Vyn (WB/DC) stand in for, it makes the frustration Morrison is channeling much more palpable. Those two plotlines are all DC can think of to do with the character, returning to those again and again. Endlessly attempting to recapture the high of Batman and Doomsday beating the shit out of Supes in The Dark Knight Returns and Death of Superman. Overcoming these two obstacles is Superman's greatest challenge as conceived by Morrison, because both are out to corrupt and ruin the very idea of him. It's not just a physical death he faces, but a metaphysical one as well. Sadly it's a threat Superman just can't seem to lick in the real world, with more and more takes on "Evil Superman" coming.

Lois and Jimmy are great here, because Morrison actually made the investigative journalism aspect of Superman important. Lois is an active participant in the story, trying to break in to the base where Clark is being held by her father, competing with Clark for stories (I love how Morrison writes the banter between the two of them), and generally being classic Lois. Jimmy though benefitted from being positioned as a peer rather than as a kid in comparison to the two, something I wish the comics had carried forward. It looks like My Adventures With Superman is going with that interpretation at least, so I hope others do as well. Jimmy being Clark's roommate really adds to their bond, and I wish we had gotten more stories with that status quo.

Investigative reporter Clark Kent was so actively used here that it feels jarring reading other Superman runs where they tend to downplay and ignore it. Following Clark as he travels to different areas of Metropolis and actually interacts with people, instead of hovering above them as Superman, makes him feel human. Watching Clark actively pursue stories aimed at bettering peoples livelihoods, and seeing how those stories crossed with the superheroics, was one of my favorite aspects of the run. It's one unfortunately few other writers seem all that interested in, especially the New 52 writers who followed Morrison (I know editorial probably bears a lot of blame for that though).

Besides all that, this run was a lot of fun! The Legion of Superheroes showed up, their connection to Clark restored, and they got to play a big role in Clark's adventures! Krypto the Superdog! Martian colonies! Memorizing all of medicine, Superman performs a lifesaving operation! Lex using a "bullet train" to knock Clark out! 5-D imps! Rampaging robots from beyond! A Phantom Zone Halloween story! John Henry Irons suits up as Steel and kicks ass alongside Clark! Every Superman Rogue teams up to try to kill him, but Lex Luthor saves his life because that's a privilege he reserves for himself! Showcasing their trademark love for the Supermythos, Morrison took us on a tour of Superlore that demonstrated the depth and width of what could be done with Superman. Meanwhile the backups by Sholly Fisch excelled at giving us smaller, more human stories about Superman (the one where Clark meets Pa again via time travel "after" Pa has died always gives me a lump in my throat to read).

Ultimately this didn't get to be the foundation for the next generation of Superman stories as it deserved. Johns made New 52 Superman the scapegoat in Doomsday Clock for a lot of storytelling choices he did over in Justice League, something that pisses me off to no end. You want to tell me that this guy "didn't relate" to people, didn't inspire "hope"?

Like hell he didn't. This guy was Superman in every way that mattered and he deserved better than to be framed as the scapegoat for all the stupid decisions DC made about what to do with him. Greg Pak was able to do some great work with this version after Morrison, and just like how Gene Yang got a redemption work starring Superman, I hope to one day see Pak return to the character. Would love to read a Black Label Superman story by Pak that follows his take on young Superman.

All wasn't lost however. Against all odds, and Rebirth trying it's damndest to sweep everything under the rug, it looks like parts of this era have actually survived to the current Infinite Frontier era. With Morrison being heavily involved no less, both as an ideas guy and as an actual writer.

Superman & the Authority is explicitly Superman coming full circle back to the attitude displayed by his young counterpart under Morrison. Janin has outright said that the costume Clark wears here is reminiscent of the t-shirt and jeans era of Superman, and this book so far feels saturated with an energy level from Morrison I haven't seen in their work for hire since they left Action. Reaching old age and realizing he never really delivered on the high ideals of his beginnings, it's Superman putting together a team to hopefully succeed where he couldn't alone. Scathing in how it criticizes the superhero status quo, this has been extremely entertaining to read. Wish Morrison was writing 12 issues with this team, and that ultimately it will be up to PKJ to deliver on the potential is a drawback (although I've loved PKJ's Action run so far), but I'm glad to see DC finally treating Morrison and their ideas with more respect than was shown during Rebirth.

Jon meanwhile feels like an even more explicit attempt at redoing New 52 Superman. There's the updated new suit, designed to appeal to a new generation with it's streamlined look. Positioning Jon as a Superman who wants to tackle the "real" issues, with Taylor explicitly comparing him to Golden Age Superman which as I mentioned was an era Morrison tried to reincorporate into their reboot. There's the Legion of Superheroes connection which played an important role in Morrison's reboot. The rumors about Jon's sexuality are interesting, hinting that DC is willing to go outside the box with him in a way they never would with Clark. I'm excited to see what kind of Superman Jon ends up becoming, if he can deliver on the promise of the New 52 Superman all the better.

This run deserves to be remembered and to have the lessons it tried to teach respected. Probably my favorite mainline run on Superman, I hope more people come around to liking it as time goes on.

#superman #grant morrison #action comics #new 52

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octalove · 4 years

Text

The Menu

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader has been looking for Red Hood for months. A small risk takes her right to him- but it’s not what she expects.

TW: Light description of gore.

“Nothing?” I asked, surprising myself at how nervous I sounded.

“Nothing yet, Batgirl.” I twisted my lip. I know Oracle didn’t resent me for taking up the mantle- we’d talked about it. Several times. Long talks, over coffee and finger sandwiches. She was proud of me, and I of her, and that was that. But a sort of guilt had settled too deeply to be wiped away, as I now wore the bat on my chest, and she wore a headset in its absence.

“He’s good at this, you know. Don’t be surprised if we don’t catch him red handed.” If Nightwing hadn’t sounded so serious, I would’ve thought it was a purposeful pun.

Honestly, though, I wasn’t expecting to catch him. Red Hood had eluded us for months while simultaneously managing to usurp the entirety of Gotham’s underground in a matter of half a year. Anyone that wasn’t under his thumb was chained to concrete at the bottom of Cape Carmine. All except us.

The man himself was evasive, but his goons were anywhere crime was- that was to say, everywhere. Two nights previous, we‘d run into some- Nightwing, Red Robin and I. We were doing well, naturally, but somewhere along the way, a man abiding prison rules had slammed his balled fist into my temple, and taking advantage of my disorientation, had pinned me on the cold warehouse floor and growled vulgar things into my face. Only a moment, before Red Robin speared his dull-end staff into the man’s sternum, taking his breath along with his ability to speak. He’d never admit it was for the sake of poetic justice.

Tonight, it was dark. I felt something, stirring, like the fight had knocked something off the shelf within me. Batman called it instincts- said I had strong ones, but somehow in between praises never managed to trust them the way I did. We were in Otisburg- location of the last reported sighting of our slippery, red-helmed target. Of course, I knew he was long gone, if he had really been spotted at all. We were watching empty streets, and I felt fervid restlessness trembling beneath my skin at the idea of that. I let dead air pass for a while. Quiet. Peace.

Finally, I stood. They wouldn’t notice if I went dark for a moment; I was similar to Batman in that regard. Contrast to him, however, I trusted my instincts, where he didn’t. And my instincts were telling me to slip away from Otisburg before he could stop me.

Nowhere in the north was there a place so dark and venomous as Gotham- and nowhere in Gotham was there a place so evident of this fact as Crime Alley. Nestled in the concave ruins of an old slum district, an unsavory black dread had settled in every street corner, juxtaposed, not complimented, by the titian and auburn neon lights burning of the bars and strip clubs. A smokescreen of choking smog evoked the feeling of being watched, and the scent was even heavier than that of the smoky ports. A slow, swaying song played from a radio in the warehouse, broken occasionally by a radio host’s grim report of politics or the death of someone no one seemed to know, or care about. A few men sat around, some paced, gripping their weapons. None looked completely relaxed. They were inconspicuous, henchmen that could’ve belonged to anyone. But they didn’t belong to just anyone. I watched for a minute, draped in the deep shadows of the exposed rafters.

He was the worst of them. I’d seen the crime scenes he left behind. Yellow tape usually prepared me for anything- expect the worst, that’s what Nightwing said. Expect the worst thing you can imagine, and you’ll usually find it’s at least not that horrible. Red Hood always managed to exceed the expectation. Do things beyond what I was capable of imagining. Human flaying, blood let corpses, decapitated heads with the teeth pulled out, scalping with dull blades. Gouged eyes and hastily extracted entrails. To those he deemed worthy of some modicum of mercy, two bullets sufficed. Those he didn’t want found never were. I’d only ever seen him from afar- or in pictures and security footage.

His footfall was heavy- weighed down with armor and his myriad of deadly weapons. Nothing about the way he walked seemed hesitant or unsure. I wondered if he was well-planned and methodical, or let a natural aptitude for improv carry him.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” He muttered, voice scrambler sharpening the sound.

“Red Hood, Sir.” One of the men returned acknowledgement. He inspected a gadget of his for a minute; it was obscured from my hiding spot.

“Hey, I got a question,” Despite the chilling robotic drag of his helmet, his voice had a distinct northern lilt. Of course, Batman had already deduced that he was probably a local. “Where the hell’s Hoffman? He fought the bats a couple nights ago, yeah?”

“Uh- yes, Sir. He’s over there.” Something told me Red Hood already knew he was over there. A man pulled himself from the shadows. Familiar face. I knew it well. I’d gotten a good look when it had been a couple of inches from mine.

“Red Hood, Sir.” He said, glancing around. God, he looked just like a child who’d been called into his parents room with no idea of what to expect. Red leaned back against a car that didn’t appear to be in operating condition.

“Heard you got it pretty bad.” He said, tone mystifyingly even. Hoffman shrugged, rubbing at his chest.

“I also heard you managed to get little Batgirl on the ground.” He said. This was followed by a jagged laugh. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in ya, Hoffy.”

Hoffman relaxed a little, and the first man grinned, clapping him on the back. I scowled, feeling gross. I wondered how many other people heard what had happened to little Batgirl. I wanted to go home and shower. Again.

“Yeah, she’s feisty. But look at you- still in one piece.” Hoffman looked like he’d just won the county fair. Red straightened and sighed, brushing a bit of dust from his pants. “Unfortunately, not for long.”

A pistol disappeared from his holster and reappeared in his hand, and in a hair-trigger span of time, a bullet had gone through Hoffman’s stomach. He made a sickly grunting sound as he went backward, and downward. A panicked, involuntary shuddering yelp escaped him as his hands went to the wound.

“I don’t fucking like creeps.” Red sighed again, glancing around nonchalantly, as if he was pondering something. “You can fight Nightwing and his merry band of who-the-fuck-cares all you want. Hell, you can take it right to Batman if you’ve got some ambition in ya,” He pulled back the hammer, aiming it at Hoffman on the ground, who whimpered something that sounded like ‘please’.

“Batgirl,”

Bang.

“Is off.”

Bang.

“The fucking.”

Bang.

“Menu.”

Bang.

Stomach, kneecap, crotch, head. In that order. Blood seeped from the body, appearing black in the dim light. Thick as oil as it outlined his body like a moat, rippling with the still-twitching muscles. I’d forgotten how to breathe. Every wide pair of eyes in the warehouse followed him.

“Who else was there?” He asked. The first man sputtered, blood dotting his drained face.

“I- um- I don’t- Jimmy, I think. Jimmy Murillo. And Rufus Harding!”

He grunted. “Then I gotta go pay a couple visits.” He turned to leave, but before he did, his boots scuffed the rough cement, and he turned on his heel, gesturing at the man with his gun.

“Hey- just for professionalism’s sake- remind me again,” He tilted his head. “What’s Batgirl?”

The man swallowed dryly. “Off- off the menu, Red Hood, Sir.” Red chuckled and gave a satisfied nod.

“Good man.”

#batman #batfam #batfamily #red hood #jason todd #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #batsis #batsis x batfamily #batgirl reader #batgirl #batsister #batfamily imagine #bruce wayne #oracle

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