#but then of course jason starts doing these things on accident instead of a purposeful ploy

[havendance]

Finally returning to my version of the AU where Jason lives because Dick dies:

Let's get this out of the way: this is not an AU where Dick dies in Ethiopia instead of Jason. In fact, in this AU, no one makes it out to Ethiopia at all. 

I'm still doing my NTT reading, but we're going to mess with the timeline somewhat. Jason is benched because of the whole Garzonas incident, but before he can run off to Ethiopia and get himself killed, Dick Grayson dies. 

The Titans aren't in space because that complicates the timing and logistics and whatnot, so instead, let's say, hmmm, Brother Blood did it. 

Bruce takes the news extremely poorly of course. Jason is now benched indefinitely because Bruce expresses his emotions through being controlling. Bruce also proceeds to go and try to boss around the Titans and take down Brother Blood. The Titans, who are also mourning their friend and have little love for Batman, don't take kindly to this. The following clusterf*** of a situation leads to Brother Blood manipulating circumstances in his favor so that he gets away with killing Dick, somehow. 

Following that disaster, no longer having the outlet of action, Bruce begins to sink into despair. He fights crime by rote and the mix of rage and despair his grief takes means he doesn't particularly care about the condition that both he and the people he fights come out in. 

Meanwhile, Jason is also upset. He and Dick had their rocky moments, sure, but they still had something that was almost brotherhood. He's upset that Dick is dead and guilty because part of him thinks he should feel worse. He fights with Bruce in the aftermath (words only, not blows) over the way Bruce is handling it: the way that he benched Jason and is pushing him away. Bruce responds by doing this even moreso. Jason in turn responds by purposefully avoiding Bruce. It's quite some time before they're in the same room as each other again. 

Tim is in school when he hears about Nightwing's death. For maximum angst, lets say that he died on live television while Brother Blood arranged things to either look like he was only acting in self-defense after the misguided and out of control Titans attacked him, or that it was a tragic accident that he tried and failed to stop. Maybe he fell to his death.

Tim also takes this poorly. Nightwing was his hero. His nightmares come back, his grades start to drop. He sneaks away from boarding school to attend Dick Grayson's funeral (mostly a closed, private ceremony, but he hides in the back) and again to visit his grave after one too many sleepless nights, leaving a copy of the picture of them at the circus.

(I know A Death in the Family takes place in the spring, but we're putting Dick's death in the fall in this AU for school year timeline purposes.) 

The school calls Tim's parents about this and they're so worried about it that they decide to cut their business short and come home early. This would've been a good choice on their part if this weren't also a 'Tim joins the Batfam AU'. As it is though, I need to make Tim an orphan somehow and they both die in a tragic plane accident, or maybe in a car crash on the way to the airport. 

This devestates Tim even further and he becomes very depressed :( 

But back to Jason. Frustrated with Bruce and his own roiling emotions, Jason decides to cope with his grief in the traditional (very healthy) bat way by putting on a mask and fighting crime. Since Robin is still benched and Jason is still avoiding Bruce, he puts together a new costume. It's probably very emo and edgy with lots of reds and blacks; he calls himself, hmmm, let's say Corvus (Latin for crow) to stick with the bird theme. 

While sneaking out at night to dispense vigilante justice, he runs into none other than the Huntress! 

Helena can see some of herself in the kid, in the way he fights like there's  something trying to break free, the way they share similar ideas about what Justice sometimes entails. And besides, he's a kid, she doesn't want anything to happen to him. So she takes him under her wing. 

With her coming off of a two year hiatus, he's got nearly as much experience as she has. Helena can offer a certain maturity and more life experience. Jason, in turn, knows more about detective work. (He was trained by Batman; She's self-taught) 

Jason confides in her that he wants to kill the man who killed his brother. Helena's torn because, on the one hand, that was what she was after. That was what she did. But on the other, Jason's a boy. He's still young. She was an adult when she did it. She knew what she was getting into. She doesn't know if Jason does. 

(Also, I think I've heard that Jason having mommy-issues were a thing? Maybe play with those?) 

Tim, meanwhile, is in foster care probably, but has definitely been transferred to the public school system and has ended up in none other than Helena Bertinelli's English class. 

(He doesn’t know that she's a vigilante and is too depressed to find out.) 

In the habit of sneaking away to visit Dick's grave, he runs into Jason once. 

He met Dick once, he says when Jason asks him why he's there. It's kind of stupid, he admits, he didn't even know him, so why does his death hurt so much? 

I'm going to borrow an idea from scintilly's one dick & tim au now and say that there's that one corrupt Drake Industries executive who's embezzling money and framing a 13 year old orphan for it. Tim is too depressed to really clock when the police start asking pointed questions, but Helena is getting a bad feeling about how the cops keep pulling him out of class to question him. She begins to investigate and Jason joins her. 

Jason and Helena uncover what's going on and this somehow culminates in a cool action sequence where Huntress and Corvus have to save Tim from a hitman that the exec sent after him or something, idk 

The important part is that, when everything's done, Tim gets a good look at Huntress for the first time and has just enough adrenaline flowing through his brains to make an intuitive leap. 

"You're my English teacher," he says. 

When pressed why, he admits that he was her meeting with Jason once after school. (He doesn't name Jason, he gestures at Corvus.) When asked why he knew it was Corvus, he's like "Well, you used to be the new Robin." 

Jason takes offense at being called the new Robin (he's been doing this for two years!) and also wants to know how Tim recognized him out of costume. 

Tim clams up. When pressed, he starts crying and rambling about quadruple somersaults and how everyone who could do them are dead and Jason eventually pieces that together with what he remembers from that one time he met Tim at Dick's grave to figure out what's going on. 

And if he knows Dick's ID and he knows Jason's then... "Do you know who Batman is?" he asks. 

Tim, still crying, nods. 

Jason swears. Well, they can't just leave him alone after all of that can they? 

I can get a fostering license, Helena says. 

Jason shakes his head. I know a guy, he says. 

Is your guy Batman? she asks. 

Jason's like, you don't know that. 

(It is Batman) 

So they drop Tim off somewhere safe until things can be finalized. (Tim makes many promises about how he isn't going to tell anyone anything) and Jason goes off to talk to Bruce for the first time in forever. 

While all of this has been going on, Bruce has continued to self-destruct: he's constantly coming home beat to hell, the GCPD are whispering about maybe taking down the giant bat spotlight they unofficially have on the roof, etc etc. 

Jason hasn't been in the same room as Bruce in over two months because of grief and also the whole hiding the fact that he's been sneaking out as an unsanctioned vigilante thing. When he finally seeks out Bruce to talk to him about Tim, and sees how bad of a shape the man is in, he breaks down. 

Look, Jason's been going through a lot and that's his dad who looks half-dead. Jason doesn't want to lose a father as well as a brother. 

They finally get to have a heart to heart where Jason talks about his feelings and admits what he's been getting up to. Bruce listens and remembers that he has more than one son and promises to try and do better by Jason. They hug. It's all very sweet. 

Then, when that's done and Jason remembers why he went looking for Bruce in the first place, he's like, "So, uh, there's something else..." 

Congratulations, Bruce! It's a boy! 

So Tim becomes fostered by Bruce Wayne, Jason goes back to being Robin, and slowly things get better. 

Jason continues to go hang out with Helena, and Tim stays as a student in her class. They all hang out together sometimes and Helena shows Tim how to use a crossbow. 

Reusing one of my old ideas and going with Tim becomes Robin during No Man's Land when he and Jason run away into the restricted zone as Batman & Robin 2.0, only in this version they also team up with Helena during it. 

I also feel like Tim's Robin costume should integrate the color blue in it somehow to honor Dick. 

Ummm, skip forward some to get to the part of this AU I was originally thinking about (making fanon Jason & Tim about Dick & Tim) 

Dick Grayson is resurrected somehow by Brother Blood. Unfortunately, this means that he is brainwashed and evil. 

(Part of me wonders if this should be a mainly Teen Titans story since Dick died under the Titan's editorial) 

Anyway, Dick, probably called something edge like "Bloodwing" or something, is sent to kill Robin. While attacking Tim, he sees the picture of him and his parents with Tim at the circus and it causes the brainwashing to crack.  

Instead of killing Tim, he kidnaps him and brings him back to Brother Blood's cult. They proceed to have a very bad time together and probably develop a codependent relationship between brainwashing sessions and cult stuff and, idk, other whumpy stuff. 

The rest of the Teen Titans show up and save the day. Dick and Tim get deprogrammed. There are lots of tearful reunions between Dick and his friends/family. 

Happy endings (until the next major event that is) 

#jason todd #tim drake #helena bertinelli #the cooler gotham antihero #my au ideas #jason lives dick dies au #carthago delenda est #dc #bats + birds + affiliated

[our-happygirl500-fan]

You know the whole Baterang to the throat thing that causes a lot of discussion in the fandom? I think Bruce might not have been aiming for the throat

It ricochets

This point in comics Bruce has been through a ringer Steph's died, Barbara and Jim have left, Leslie betrayed him and he's had to send Cass and Tim away and now Jason is back but for revenge so Bruce isn’t at his best and I think Bruce threw the Baterang in a moment of panic and either over or undershot which ended up with well that.

This moment causes a lot of debate but I don't see it as “Bruce harming Jason to save the joker” the way a lot of fics paint it I see it more as he'd been aiming for Jason's arm or something to disarm him but overshot and it’s kind of like a symbolism of their relationship. 

 Which is basically Bruce takes an action to stop Jason from going down a path that he thinks will end up hurting Jason, but ends up hurting Jason in the long-run.

Like when he discussed taking away robin from Jason (because he thought Jason needed time to deal with issues that were becoming more prevalent) which only ended up making Jason feel insecure about his position in the Wayne household, contributing to why he so desperately pursued a stable parental relationship in his biological mother.

Bruce knows that if he gives in and kills the Joker he'll never stop killing we've seen timelines that prove that and I think Bruce also thinks the same of Jason that if Jason kills the Joker he won't stop at all so it’s not that he’s saving the Joker but that he’s trying to save Jason but Bruce ultimately misunderstands Jason’s needs and winds up hurting him.

Bruce is trying to save Jason from what he sees as a downwards spiral, but he ends up hurting him not just emotionally, but physically, and in the most extreme way possible. It's like an even darker echo of how trying to bench him as Robin led to his death.

Bruce has spent YEARS haunted by the memory of Jason’s death his death fundamentally changed Bruce's entire character Alfred said that Jason's death affected Bruce more than his own parents death.

In Underworld Unleashed it's revealed that his greatest desire is to have Jason back, in Hush he talks about how he wanted to put Jason in the Lazarus Pit and how he believes Jason knew he always loved him, and in As The Crow Flies we learn that his greatest fear is Jason coming back as an enemy and then in Under the Red Hood he gets Jason back (his greatest desire) but as an antagonist (his greatest fear) and moreover his belief that Jason 'knew' he loved him is WRONG.

Jason's insecurities from before his death combined with the perceived betrayal of Bruce not avenging him have led Jason to the point where he genuinely believes Bruce doesn't care, and in Jason's eyes, killing the joker is the only way Bruce can prove that he does but instead, in that moment, Bruce's attempt to diffuse the situation backfires.

Bruce misunderstands what Jason needs in that moment like he misunderstood what Jason needed at the start of Death in the Family it's just the ultimate representation of their constant emotional feedback loop. They trap themselves in a cycle of fighting because Jason can't read how Bruce really feels and Bruce can't read what Jason really needs and in that moment both those things are true, with Jason not seeing that Bruce truly cares anymore, and Bruce not knowing how to properly deescalate the situation and show Jason that he still cares.

It's extremely easy to read the batatrang throw as purposeful even though I wholly believe it was accidental but if that moment was explored more, I'm positive that Jason would believe it wasn't an accident, and would view it as proof of his already held view that Bruce doesn't love him anymore after all, that could have killed him, symbolically disowning him in the most extreme way possible.

Heck in Jason's appearance in Green Arrow (2001) Bruce had thought Jason might have died again! Before Jason turned up to mess with Mia.

The thing that's tragic about Jason that actually leads to a lot of his own suffering is that Jason doesn't really know what a healthy relationship looks like so I'm not sure when his actual 'last straw' would be.

Jason is the kind of person who sees love and acceptance as entirely circumstantial. He believes he must /earn/ love and acceptance, i.e. by being Robin, rather than it being inherently given.

A huge piece of understanding Robin Jason is understanding how much he lacked proper support systems back then. School was his only connection to his kids his age, and he didn't benefit much from that connection, his life was essentially: manor, school, Robin, repeat.

Jason loved school, but his school life was also pretty depressing. Jason kept to himself, he didn't have the time to participate in extracurriculars even when he wanted to and his peers didn't view him very positively. Jason was also really isolated from the rest of the hero community, there was his stint with the Titans, but it was pretty brief. He was also penpals with Kid Devil, but for the most part, he just had Batman.

The lack of support is actually one of the reasons I give for Jason and Steph dying in universe since they were the two Robins without support systems outside of Gotham. When Bruce was a jerk Dick and Tim could be like 'fine I'm going to go hang out with the Teen Titans or Young Justice' but Jason and Steph could only be like 'oh no' plus Bruce would deliberately try to take away Steph's support systems that she did have multiple times like when he ordered Cass to stop training with Steph.

But that's besides the point, I wouldn't be surprised if Jason confused being Robin with being accepted in the manor so when Bruce threatened to take away Robin from him, he might've seen it as his only proper support system being taken away from him, his world felt rocked back into instability once again.

When you look at it like that, it's very easy to understand why Jason sought out his biological mother. He had a hope that Sheila would offer him that stability once more, and that he'd get support and trust and unconditional love.

And that’s what make it all the more heartbreaking to me he came to this woman seeking love and gave her his greatest secret and she repaid him with a horrific death.  Jason’s death is one of the saddest to me because there’s no high stakes 'he died saving the world stuff' he’s just a kid who wanted a mom and got killed for it.

DC’s habit of taking away who he was is so detrimental to his backstory as the Red Hood because the transformation from someone who tried being kind and who did give it their all being killed for it and coming back like ‘no more’ is so much more interesting than ‘we always knew this would happen’.

Robin disobeying orders is nothing new. If that was the core of why Jason died, then any Robin disobeying orders should never be put in a positive light, but often it is. Jason (and Steph) were just the ones unlucky enough to emerge dead and judged for it instead of alive and praised for it.

Jason died because he was a child who just wanted to be safe and loved.

So many times Robin disobeying orders saved lives it’s nothing new and Jason had a pretty solid reason, the story of Jason Todd should be portrayed as the tragedy not make him some warning sign.

This is why I always hated the victim blaming after Jason & Steph's deaths because they died doing what if it had been Tim or Dick a Robin would be praised for, like take Steph for example we've seen constant stories of Bruce firing Robin, them going off on their own & Bruce realising he's wrong & taking them back but when Steph goes off on her own she dies the only reason Jason & Steph died is that the writers forced them to fail where they would have allowed the others to succeed.

But anyway back to my point the thing about Jason feeling like he had to earn love is why he was initially so hung up on the idea of Bruce 'replacing' him when he came back to life, he viewed Tim being robin as Bruce /transferring/ his love for Jason to another person, rather than seeing that Bruce could love Tim while still loving and missing him.

The reason Jason sought out his mother after Bruce benched him as Robin was that he viewed Bruce benching him as Bruce rejecting him and latched onto the idea of finding someone, i.e. a birth mother, who is supposed to give /unconditional love/.

The fact that his birth mother REJECTED HIM and then played a hand in his murder undoubtedly affected his attitude when he came back, if even his mother didn't want him, and then Bruce let the joker live and replaced him, then, in Jason's eyes, OF COURSE Bruce doesn't care and as mentioned previously Jason didn't really have any friends in school or the hero community, believing that the only real close personal connection in your live, someone you spent all your time with, had forgotten about you and rejected you is bound to mess a person up.

#DC comics #jason todd #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #dc

[miss-choco-chips]

The dangers of sugar coating

Dick tries to give his little brother nice things (and fucks up), Tim is paranoid (and too tired to think clearly), and Damian thinks they might actually be a good team (while they plot Santa Claus’ downfall).

(Beacuse @animemangasoul and I decided we’ve been too rough with Tim lately, so I tried to give him some batfamily fluff. Somewhere along the way I fucked up and ended with this. No edit, pure crack)

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

-Before I tell you anything, you need to promise me you won’t get mad.

The Bruce of ten years ago, new to parenting and oblivious to its dangers, would have done his best to emulate any ‘How to be a good Dad- guide for new, utterly lost fathers’ book. Now, though, tired after raising Dick to semi-adulthood and still hurting over Jason’s… Jason, he knew better. Life had toughtened him up.

So he didn’t raise his eyes from his newspaper, and gave into the urge of sipping his coffee before humming under his breath. Not even the slightest show of acceptance over those terms.

If Dick was asking that, instead of hiding whatever this was or dealing with it himself, it meant the situation was either out of his control, bound to make its way to Bruce eventually, or both. 

Probably both.

-Come on, B, just promise you won’t get all passive aggressive bitch on me. I did it for the greater good...

Another hum.

However, Dick has spent the same amount of time learning under his guide than he had raising him, so the younger was bound to develop some of his own tactics.

-...and I did it because Tim obviously needed it, so…

Warning bells ringing in his mind, Bruce gave up and shoot Dick a look. He didn’t seem overly guilty, so whatever this was, it probably wasn’t irreversible. But he was also shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously, so… there was a catch here.

-What did you do?

-You didn’t promise.

-I won’t take your allowance away, but I may yell. It depends on how convincingly you make your case -compromise, he had learned after many, many mistakes, was as good a plan as any. 

-Deal -then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid:- I might have made Tim slightly more neurotic than he was. On accident.

The bells turned into firefighter’s sirens. 

-What did you do?

They have had the fifteen year old living in the mannor for a few weeks at most. They couldn't possibly have already broken him, right?

Right?

Dick winced, but sat down by Bruce’s left (the side closest to the dining room’s window), which meant this was the only issue, but a hard to explain one.

-You see… We were talking, bonding over childhood memories and stuff, and… you know how christmas is just around the corner, and I asked him about Santa. I mean, obviously he doesn’t believe in that now, but the thing is, he never did.

-He’s too smart for that -growled Bruce, impatiente to get to the point and figure out just how much damage control would he be doing.

-No, his parents were too shitty. They were never there on Christmas, so no gifts under the tree unless he put them there himself, and whenever that happened, it was because his parents sent them and he wrapped them himself. Also no surprises, because he was the one asking for specific stuff. And I got a little sad, because how can a kid never believe in Santa? Like, come on. It’s part of the concept of childhood innocence. So...

Bruce waited a few beats, but Dick didn’t follow up. See, this was the moment where his parenting books would suggest waiting until the kid was good and ready for sharing his thoughts. But, since this was his younger child at stake here, he couldn't allow himself the luxury of letting a single second go.

-And? -he prompted, as gently as he could, trying not to spook Dick into abandoning ship.

-And I sort of… convinced him that Santa was real. Like, a full out super powered meta whose purpose in life was to bring joy to all of us. I texted Barbara and she planted some old looking reports on the batcomputer about it, to give credibility to the lie. I even drew parallels with Batman being thought of as a myth outside of Gotham to support the ‘Santa is real, people just don’t believe in him’ thing. And, after some hours of convincing and with Babs’ help, he bought it. So now, if Tim approaches you about it, you better back me up, because otherwise you would be ruining the last vestige of innocence Tim might still keep. Downside, though, Tim is now holed up in his bedroom searching the deep web for any Santa related info he can get his nerdy little paws on.

Silence in the room. Dick blurted out a goodbye and jumped out of the window. Bruce didn’t get up to check if he had landed safely on the other side. He probably had. 

Tired, he looked down at his coffee. Black, just like he needed it now.

He should have stopped at zero children.

----.----

Cassie watched, with no small amount of unholy glee, as Tim thoroughly convinced both Kon and Bart of Santa’s existence. One a clone with little social understanding and the other from a very dark future, they were unsurprisingly easy to convince.

This was the kind of hilarious shit that made being in a superhero team worth it. All the life and death situations were balanced out by this kind of drama-like absurdity.

Even better was Tim’s completely fucked up perspective on the matter.

-So you’re saying Santa is not only real, but a deranged psychopath? Who’s probably both a pedofile and a mind controlling scumbag? -Kon tilted his head, both confused and esceptic.

Cassie did her utmost best to keep a straight face while nodding along, as if everything Tim had laid down in front of them made perfect sense. 

-I thought it was stupid, too. But Dick showed me evidence, old reports, both handwritten and digital, and I found footage of Santa sneaking into the Manor when he was still young, deeply buried in the Batcomputer mainframe.

-Couldn’t that video be, you know… made up? -Bart asked, frown unusual on him firmly in place.

-If it was anywhere else? Sure. But this is The Batcomputer we’re talking about. Why would Batman have that kind of thing there? It was too heavily protected to be placed there as decoy for anyone hacking, not like they could ever get over Oracle’s firewalls. Besides, what reason would Batman have to invent this? I’m fifteen, I don’t need the ‘Santa fantasy’. The only believable answer is that Santa is real and very dangerous, and some people have taken his name for capitalism’s sake and made a holiday out of that and some religious backing, to get more people roped up into it. The true mastermind is obviously hiding somewhere out there, and the Christmas propaganda is merely a means to get funding for his devious plots.

Both metas hummed thoughtfully, Superboy even crossing his arms as he examined the pile of photos and papers Tim had laid out in front of them. Bart was nodding, hand cupping his jaw. The looked dead serious.

Cassie wanted to excuse herself to use the toilet (lead lidden because this was Gotham, specifically Tim’s secret place, so of course it was super-proof) so she could laugh her ass off, but the temptation of seeing this trainwreck to its fiery end was too strong. 

It was taking up all of her amazonian training to keep her straight face, though. Diana would be so proud.

-I even searched the deep web for Santa related crimes, and looked up his name in disturbing forums. You wouldn't believe what some people, serial killers and rapists both, do using Christmas as a theme. I couldn't sort through it all, it was that sick.

Kon looked utterly disturbed- So what do we do now? Christmas is just around the corner!

Bart got up and started pacing back and forth- We need to hunt this dude down. Christmas is about goodness and family! We can’t let this, this… psychopath ruin it! Think about the children of the world!!

Oh god, this was getting even better.

-But how? The man sounds like a velocist of some kind, I mean, running and leaving gifts everywhere in the world in the span of a few hours? How are we even gonna catch him?

-Maybe if we dress up as Elves? -Cassie couldn't stop herself from suggesting, voice choked in her effort to be serious, but most likely interpreted by the boys as clogged up on rage- From what Tim wrote here -she raised a paper from the pile, hand shaking- it looks like they are his mind-controlled slaves. If he thinks we ran from his captivity, he might take us to the North Pole with him to brainwash us again… Oh, but I probably shouldn't dress up, so you know, I can be back up if he manages to catch you three…

-That’s a great idea! -Bart’s skinny arms wrapped themselves around her neck, and she took the chance to hide her face in his mane of hair, corners of her mouth twitching up.

-Should I also record it? -she asks, almost begging- In case people don’t believe us later, when we have to explain why we imprisoned Santa.

-Yes, I think that might be wise -Tim conceded, eyes scanning his papers again.

Thank the gods. That tape was going to be Cassie’s most precious treasure forever.

-I think he has a way of controlling people’s minds too. Like, parents and stuff. And then he makes them be the ones to give his children gifts in his name, as a way of gaining their trust. Sick fucker.

-So you think it’s a kinky thing for him?

-Kon, he literally categorizes kids as ‘good’ or ‘naughty’. 

-You are right, we need to stop this bastard.

Cassie loved her boys so, so much. She also owed Dick Grayson the biggest high five.

----.----

Red Hood was just lighting up a cigarette when he saw Red Robin making his way to his rooftop. Cursing, he dropped the entire thing and kicked it away. The brat knew Jason smoked, but Dick had been on his ass lately about being a good brother, and he still felt kinda bad about trying to kill the kid twice, so he was actually trying to set a good example. 

Besides, out of the two possible little brothers to take under his wing, he certainly drew the lucky ticket, because while Dickie had gotten stranded with the pompous brat, Jason had the all around good kid circling his radar more often than not. Like, Tim had broken him out of prison, a little after Jason had done his best to end his life; he couldn't get more forgiving and nice than that. It certainly beat making a murder League child let go of his katana on a nightly basis.

-I need your help.

He blinked. While they certainly had worked cases together in the past, they were always preluded by some kind of smalltalk,  little banter, at least a ‘hello’. Not this straight to the point bullshit.

He had the urge to take out his guns, to protect them both of any threat following Red Robin here. He refrained.

-What’s the matter, babybird? What’s wrong?

Tim looked almost frazzled. The cowl was hanging around his neck, just a domino preserving his identity, and his hair was a knotted mess. Disveleshed was too little a word for his state.

-We need to make a plan to catch Santa Claus before Christmas this year. His reign of terror must end. It’s still not too late.

Yeah, okay, he might need that cigarette after all, to hell with Dick’s bitching. Besides, how bad of a influence could that be, when this kid was obviously already on some kind of drugs? Like, Santa? Really?

-What… do you mean?

What followed was an hour long rant on the dangers of a super powered, evil version of the myth that Tim had somehow cooked up on his mind.

Was this real? The kid looked far too distraught for a joke.

-… Does Nightwing know about this? -whatever ‘this’ was- Bats?

Tim shook his hands frantically. Jason was legit getting worried.

-N was the one who told me about Santa -there, he knew this smelled like a Golden Boy trademark fuck up-, but he seems to be under his spell. Bruce as well. They tried to convince me he is some kind of good-hearted samaritan. Jason -he stated, breaking the no names during patrol rule, a show of just how deep into the rabbit hole he was- you wouldn't  believe what I found on the deepweb. Joker’s yearly special seems tame in comparison.

That, Jason could believe. But he was also fairly sure you could type about any word in the darkest side of the net, and find half a dozen kinky or deranged things that matched. Santa-temed crimes? More likely than anyone would believe. Real life Santa doing the deed? Not so much.

Tim had been too young when Dick lied to his face, most likely. And nowadays, the young vigilante was running on three hours of sleep on a good week. And it wasn’t even too far fetched to believe, on their line of business, specially when dealing with metas and supervillains day in and day out.

Still…

-Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Santa isn’t real -he told him, slowly, hands raised as if to touch his shoulders but not daring to actually make contact. Tim looked so manic he might actually nerve strike him.

The icy blue eyes were hidden under his mask, but Jason knew from the way he tensed that Tim was terrified.

-He got to you, too -he whispered, almost too softly for him to hear. Then, without giving Jason the chance to inquire further, he turned tail and disappeared into the night.

....

He really needed that cigarette.

----.----

When Drake told the family he was taking Damian under his wing for a case, everyone seemed so happy he couldn't just shoot the other man down. Besides, reluctant as he was to admit it, Red Robin was the superior detective in the entirety of the team, so there would be rewards for taking the blow to his pride and working with him.

He expected to be directed through some easy case, maybe a little puzzling but not too challenging. Or be sidelined while Drake worked through things, so he could learn by example.

This, though, this he hadn’t foresaw.

This case was way more serious.

-How come Father has allowed this depravancy to continue?! -exclaimed Damian, hands gripping the sheets of information tightly- This ‘Santa’s’ influence has been permitted to cement on too many people already! And it keeps growing!

-I know. Fuck, I know. But I can’t get anyone to help me. My team knows, but sadly we aren’t enough. Bruce and Dick don’t believe me, and neither does any other hero I contacted on the matter. It’s just like when B was missing in time; they either think I’m crazy, or try to sugarcoat things, like they would with a baby.

Damian snorted, disbelieving. Whatever his opinion might be on his predecessor, he at least knew to trust his insight in a case. Grandfather himself had recognized his genius on that field.

They were on Drake’s perch, his center of operations outside of Batman’s influence. He would never admit it out loud, but if Damian ever needed his own batcave, it would be just like this one. 

Now, the long table in front of him was completely covered in information, case reports, photos taken from live footage, deepweb forums’ conversations, history books…

-And you say this… monster, targets children?

-I mean, he brainwashes the parents too, but that seems like a plot to both increase his economic funds and to gain the children’s trust.

-How are you so sure they are his objective?

-The parents tell their children Santa is ‘always observing them’, and ask if they ‘have been good’ that year. If they aren’t perceived as obedient, Santa leaves them coal, which incentives them to do their best to change that by next year’s christmas. 

-Maybe the coal and gifts have mind control devices, or some magic?

-My thoughts exactly.

Damian frowns even deeper. He’s glad Drake is taking his detective training seriously, but if father himself is being deceived, he wonders what can the two of them (plus Drake’s team) do.

-What about Todd? Red Hood is proclaimed as Saint Protector of Children in Crime Alley, after all. He certainly has opinions about this ‘Santa’ person. 

Timothy shakes his head- He got Jason too. I suspect he’s been under his control ever since he was a child at the manor. 

-So, we are alone in this.

-Essentially, yes. Thankfully, not everyone celebrates christmas. Some religions flat out forbid it, so we won’t have as much ground to cover when we lay out a trap. We could choose a close by location and plan around it. 

He nods, back straight with purpose. He -and Drake, he supposes- would be freeing Father and Grayson, along with the rest of the victims, from this madman’s control. Maybe even Todd, if he has the time.

-I’m with you on this endeavor, Drake.

-Good. Remember we need to act natural in front of the family. If Santa catches wind of what we’re doing, he might focus his efforts in getting to us. 

Damian wants to say to let him come, he would show him why it's a bad idea to mess with his family. But Drake is, admittedly, the superior detective, and it seems he’s been working on this for a long time now. Damian will defer to his judgement this one time.

Drake’s superior knowledge and Damian’s unrivaled training might be what’s needed to orchestrate this ‘Santa’s’ downfall.

They will be a good team, he thinks.

#My writing #Tim Drake #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #core four #Dick grayson #Bruce Wayne #cassie sandsmark #kon el kent #conner kent #bart allen #jason todd #Damian wayne #this is just crack guys #Tim thinks Santa is out to get everyone #he's a tired boy okay #no edit #tw: mentions of child abuse #nothing graphic just Tim doing typical comic book research

[goldandbluesmiles]

Unwavering.

Summary: Bruce has a near-death experience and becomes a guest to some familiar figures.

Ao3

Part of my btafam flufftober2020

Note: Written for a prompt by @bane-rights-writes Hope I did it justice! Also tagging @fictionalguystalker cause they asked. Hope you enjoy!

Unwavering.

That's how they described him.

It didn't matter if he was Bruce, Batman, or even Brucie. A father, a son, a friend, a hero, a businessman and or an airhead. Unwavering, or some synonym, always came up in a conversation when describing him.

Batman was unwavering in his support, in his justice, in his ideals.

Bruce was unwavering with his faith, kindness and dedication.

Brucie could hold a room at the edge while tipsy on champagne.

Unwavering. That's what it was.

The hero was unwaveringly steadfast. The father was unwaveringly devoted. The son was similarly loyal. The businessman was dedicated to a fault. The airhead was always reaching out, whether it was good for him or not. The friend was always there, even when you weren't aware.

Unwaveringly. That was just how he did things.

At least, that was how it had been.

And then Robin fell and Bruce lost his baby.

These days Batman was violent. The hero had started to disappear in smoke. The father had become distant and the son was barely there enough to say a word. The businessman was becoming a mess and the party boy everyone knew had retreated into a shell. The friend had disappeared and Bruce Wayne seemed to be walking empty.

The man knew he had to do something, he knew he was hurting them, all of them. He knew his son would have been ashamed.

He just...The darkness was just so much easier.

xxx

Batman should have seen the hit coming but he was tired and angry and not thinking straight.

Joker goons. All dressed like their psychotic master.

Batman hadn't been paying proper attention, he had slipped, maybe by accident and maybe on purpose but he did slip. When the thug behind him came with a lead pipe, there was no one there to watch his back.

If he had stayed awake, he would have felt that pipe, and many more, beating into him. He would have heard Agent A's voice begging him to get up and then promising to rescue him.

Instead, he was already far far away.

xxx

Bruce woke up slowly, almost like he was emerging from still tar. The first thing that came into view were treetops, a little bit of blue sky peeking through.

Getting his bearings right, Bruce gingerly sat up. Looking around he could see that he was in a place with a lot of trees and on further analyzation a very familiar place with a lot of trees.

The woods behind the lake house.

Bruce remembered running out here once and getting lost. The sun had been setting, the winter evening turning frigid and he had been so scared that he would never find his way back to his parents again.

His father had found him though, had picked him up and held him close and shushed him all the way back to the lake house. There, his mother had also hugged him and they had all sat down to drink hot chocolate by the fire.

It was one of Bruce's earliest memories.

In the present, he got up and started to walk in the lake house's direction by memory. He had taken the path so many times, some alone and some with his boys, that his feet knew where to go by their own volition.

As he neared the edge of the woods, he heard the sweet sound of a child's laugh. A very familiar laugh.

Hurrying so much that he was practically running, Bruce quickly made his way to the edge of the woods and froze.

From where he was standing, he had a clear view of the back porch.

A steady beam of sunlight seemed to be falling on the building. On the porch, there was a small round table for three with lemonade and biscuits. Just off the porch, there was a woman dancing with a young boy, both their laughter mixing together though the child was much louder.

"Mom," he whispered, scarcely believing his eyes and ears, "Jason,"

"Yes, son," murmured a voice from beside him, "It is them,"

He whirled around and nearly dropped from shock.

"Dad," he said softly

Thomas Wayne stood there in all his glory, full head of hair, bushy mustache, vibrant blue eyes and the suit he had been wearing on the night he had died. Not looking a day over, thirty-six.

"Hey, Kiddo,"

Bruce sobbed and practically collapsed into his father's arms. Thomas held him close, gently shushing him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

"It's alright, Bruce. It's alright,"

"Dad," he whispered

"Dad!" called out another voice

Bruce jerked out of his father's arms just in time to catch a small bundle flying toward him. He hugged his son close to him, holding him so he was being crushed to his chest.

"Jaylad, Jay, my baby," he cried, "You're here Jason, you're here,"

"'Course I'm here, ya big boob. Stop ya whinin' and hug your ma,"

Bruce smiled and still holding on to his boy, he turned to Martha Wayne. His mom gave him a soft look before engulfing him in her arms.

"Oh my boy," she murmured, "How you have grown. Alfred did a wonderful job with you,"

"Yeah," he murmured into her shoulder, "Yeah. He did,"

"Come sit," she told him mas she pulled away

Bruce swung Jason onto his back making the boy giggle and shriek. They all headed toward the table where Bruce kneeled in front of his son.

"I'm so sorry, Jaylad," he whispered, "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough,"

Jason tilted his head in confusion.

"Dunno what you're sayin' Bruce," said Jason, "I'm gonna grab another glass,"

With that, the boy turned and ran inside.

"Come sit," said Thomas, gesturing toward the table

"So, tell us," said Martha as they sat down, "How have you been?"

"That's a long, complicated story, mom," said Bruce

"Tell us,"

He started from his teenage years, narrating his school experience, good and bad, an edited version of his travels, his time as Batman, adopting Dick, adopting Jason. Somewhere between all that, Jason had come back and climbed into Bruce's lap. It was a little awkward considering that Jason wasn't as small as he used to be when he was a young boy but Bruce made it work. He wasn't about to let his son go.

Bruce ended his story before he got to the part about Jason's death. If his boy wanted to ignore it, he would too.

"Colourful life you've had," said Thomas

"Yes, it has been," said Bruce smiling down at Jason, the sunlight starting to make him drowsy.

"I think you still have many years to live that colourful life," said Martha, voice even so gentle

He held Jason close, though the boy didn't seem to notice, staring off into the distance.

"I want to stay,"

"You don't belong here," said Thomas

Bruce could feel his desperation clawing at his insides.

"But I- I really wanna stay, Dad," he said

"Jason," his mother said gently, "Come here,"

Bruce tried to grab the boy but he sprang away from him and straight into Martha's arms. She stood up and took him off the porch, where they started to dance again to a tune only they could hear.

"You have to go back," said Thomas

"But why?" whispered Bruce, "It's so peaceful here,"

"But isn't there someone else waiting for you,"

Someone else.

Bruce

That sounded like-

Bruce, please.

Oh god.

I still need you, B.

Dick

I'm so sorry Bruce. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'll be better.

Nonononono. Dick.

"Go, son," murmured Thomas, "We'll be fine,"

Bruce stood up and bolted from the table. Jason waved to him as he ran by an ad he stopped long enough to give him son a hug.

"I love you," he whispered to him

"Run along, ya big boob,"

Bruce ran back into the forest where he had woken. As he went past the trees, they seemed to disappear, turning into wisps of nothing.

Bruce, please wake up.

The darkness seemed to be growing around him but Brue didn't care. He kept following the voice.

I love you, B.

Out of the darkness that had not surrounded him, a small beam of light appeared.

Dad.

"Dick,"

xxx

Dick had lost track of how long he had been sitting there, saying things as if they would bring Bruce out of his comma. Alfred was hopeful. Leslie had taken off the oxygen when Bruce had started breathing on his own, telling them that it was a good sign. However, it had been five days and the man still hadn't woken up.

Dick had barely left his side alternating between telling him funny stories and begging for him to wake up. After the first day, Alfred had put his foot down and made a schedule for him so he could take care of himself. According to said schedule, it was now time for him to get up and take a walk in the garden.

Not wanting to upset the man, especially when he had so much on his mind already, Dick started to get up, squeezing Bruce's hand as he did so.

Except for this time, Bruce squeezed back.

Dick stilled. had he imagined-no there it was again.

"Dad," he said, "Dad,"

Bruce stirred and his eyes fluttered open.

"Dick,"

Dick could have cried from relief.

"Yes, yes it's me, B," he said

"Dick," Bruce repeated, eyes coming to focus on him

"Yeah," whispered Dick, squeezing his hand, "Let me just call Alfred,"

Alfred was called and came down as fast as he could. He checked the man over and deemed him fit and fine.

"Don't you scare me like that again, my boy," said Alfred

Bruce, who now seemed much more present, smiled, "I'm sorry, Alfie,"

"Hmm," murmured Alfred, "Well, I have some calls to make and I am sure you two would like some time alone,"

Dick sat down and took Bruce's hand again.

"You really scared me, B,"

Bruce looked at him for a few moments and then smiled sadly.

"I haven't been a really good paren have I?"

Dick stilled, "No, Bruce I didn't mean- I mean I'm an adult now and-"

"Dick," he murmured squeezing his hand gently, "I know I haven't been great. I'm gonna change that,"

"You were grieving," said Dick

"So were you," returned Bruce, "I should have listened to you. I'm going to change some things now. I'm gonna talk to Dinah and get help and I'm gonna get better and I will try harder to be a better dad. I promise I will try,"

"Wow," said Dick, tears springing up in his eyes, "Must have been some hit to the head,"

Bruce smiled and pulled him in for a hug.

"You have no idea," he sid into Dick's shoulder

Dick didn't know what that meant and at the moment he didn't care, he was just glad to be hugging his dad again, feeling light the first time in months.

xxx

Batman, Bruce, Brucie Wayne.

The father, the son, the hero, the friend, the businessman and the airhead party boy.

Take him in any form and the man was unwavering in his own way.

He hadn't been for a while though. Not since his little bird fell and he lost a son.

But maybe, just maybe, with a little motivation and a little more help, he could be again.

Just maybe.

#flufftober2020 #bruce wayne #Jason Todd #batman #batdad #dick grayson #unwavering

[rawritzrobin]

Angel Amongst Bats Chapter 4

Title: Angel Amongst Bats

Pairing: Jason Todd x Stella Covington (My OC)

Warnings: Cursing, past major character death, a little bit angsty, fluff.

Summary: Tim spills the beans as Stella finally gets the answers she is looking for.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

A/N: Yes, I am aware that Renegade was Dick's character. But I liked the name for Jason instead (:

Chapter 4: Answers

Stella stared at Tim’s outstretched hand for a few seconds.

She was confused at the gesture. What did he mean by nice to meet you? They have been friends for years. Just then, it hit her. If she really died when she was a teen in this world, she never would’ve met him.

She shakes her head, rubs the back of her head with her left hand and shakes his right hand with her other hand. “Stella! Sorry. I kinda forgot where I was for a second there.”

They shook hands for a few seconds and pulled apart.

“Alfred. Do you mind if I steal Stella from you for a while?”

Alfred smiles down at Tim. “Of course not.” He nods in Stella’s direction. Stella smiles nervously.

“That is, only if you want to.”

“Of course!” Stella was more than willing. Maybe Tim would finally tell her why everyone is avoiding her questions about Jason in this universe. She stepped behind Tim’s wheelchair and wheeled him towards what she knew was Tim’s favorite place in the manor.

Once they were settled deep inside the gardens of Wayne Manor, Stella took a seat on one of the many wicker chairs surrounding them. It was a nice sunny fall day. There was a chill to the air, but that just made the sun more welcoming. Stella and Tim both stared into the beautiful greenery around them for a few moments. The silence was welcomed.

Stella was the first one to break the ice.

“So. You said Jason threw you off a building? Care to elaborate?” Stella asked curiously. Her elbows resting on her thighs and her chin resting on her hands.

Tim chuckles. “Do you want the full story that leads up to that? Or just that part of the story.”

“What do you think?”

“Well I can’t give you the full story since I joined the team late. But I can tell the things I have heard. It all started when you died.”

Stella nods. It was still weird for her to hear that she was dead in this universe. She was dead and yet life goes on. The world continues to function without you. It was surreal.

“Jason blamed Bruce. He kept repeating over and over again that he should have went for you first. It was already too late by then. And well, after the funeral, Jason sort of snapped. He left the manor one night and broke into Arkham.”

Stella listened intently, leaning closer to Tim. He went on.

“He took the Joker from his cell, and broke him out. Jason ripped the tracker in his arm off so that made it impossible to track him. It took them nearly 2 weeks to find him. By that time it was too late. Based on what they found it looked like Jason tortured him for a few days before leaving him to die, drowning in his own blood.”

Stella covered her mouth with her hands in shock. Jason hated the Joker, but she could never imagine him torturing Joker until he died. But then again, he had Stella to calm him down when he lost his temper. She wondered if he could really pull that off if she was the one who died that night. She thinks back to the day she tried to take her own life, how empty she felt without him.

Yeah, she could see Jason snapping the same way she almost did.

“He disappeared for a few years after that.” Tim continued. “That was when I joined. I only heard stories about what happened. I never even met him at that point. A year in we ran across a string of murders. Each as violent as the next. The only thing connecting them was the fact that they were all drug dealers. We didn’t put two and two together until one day we caught him, in the middle of killing Black Mask.”

Stella was silent. Her brain still trying to comprehend everything Tim has told her so far.

“He was wearing a black motorcycle type helmet. Called himself ‘Renegade’. It wasn’t until we caught a sample of his blood off Black Mask’s corpse that we realized it was him. The first time Dick and Bruce confronted him Dick ended up with a broken leg and Bruce nearly came home in pieces. Ever since then he’s just been sort of around. His latest victim was the Penguin.”

Stella gasped. “What?!” She asks.

Tim sighs. “Yeah. After that he sort of took over Gotham as one of the big crime lords. We tried to talk to him. One by one. But he wouldn’t listen. Well, when it was my turn he was furious. Called me ‘replacement’ before beating the shit out of me, and throwing me off a building. And well, here we are.” He says gesturing to his wheelchair.

At this point Stella was at the edge of her seat. She wanted nothing more than to return to her own world. Hearing such stories about the man she loved, even in a different dimension, was heartbreaking.

“The fall severed my lower nerves from my vertebra. I landed directly on the side of a trash can. The pain was excruciating, at first. But then everything went numb. Doctors are trying to find a cure, but I know better. I’ve actually gotten used to this by now. I kinda hated patrol anyways. I would much rather be on the computer supporting the team you know? Like a sort of watcher. Or…”

“Oracle.” Stella finished.

Tim smiles, “Yeah. Thats a good codename actually. Might have to take that one from you.”

“Well it’s not mine to take. You see back in my world…” Stella goes on, telling Tim the details from her world.

The two talk for hours. Exchanging stories from their own world. Stella tells Tim her Jason’s story. How he died, came back to life, and went mad before finally settling down with the Bat family once more. She told him how the Tim in her world was currently donning the name ‘Red Robin’. How the Joker in her world took away Barbara’s ability to walk..

Tim listened intently. Taking in every story and noting every difference between their worlds. Little did they know, Bruce was also listening in from the Batcave, through a few bugs he had planted in the garden.

By the time Stella was finishing her part of the story, Dick, Barbara, Damian, and even Alfred were gathered around the Bat computer. Barbara shivered at the Joker story, Dick pulled her into his arms.

“And that’s that. I was actually waiting for Jason to get back from patrol when I was sent here. By who and how I still don’t know. And believe me, even though my Jason seems a lot less violent than yours, there’s a running list of people who would love to get revenge on him.”

Stella lays back on the chair she was sitting in and sinks in. Closing her eyes, she slowly takes in everything Tim has just told her. So Jason did exist in this universe. He was just a psychotic murderer who was also a crime lord, but he also kills bad guys. Not to mention the fact that he has tried to murder each and every member of the family. Even Alfred apparently.

Tim studied her. To him she seemed like just your average girl. He couldn’t believe that this was the girl Jason went on a murder rampage for. She seemed so, normal. Sweet even. How did Jason land a girl like her? What was their story?

Stella sits back up. “Wait. So now that I have the full story. Can you tell me why Conner seems to despise me? By the looks of it he never even met this worlds version of me.”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, he blames Jason for what happened to me. I have told him over and over again that Jason’s not in his right mind, but he still wants to kill him. I guess to him, knowing that you were the reason Jason snapped, he blames you for what happened to me.”

Stella raises her eyebrows. “First off, I am not the same Stella in this world, though she does sound cool. Second, it’s not like I did it on purpose. And third, IM NOT EVEN FROM THIS WORLD! And it’s not like I wanted to die!” She screams as she crosses her arms in and angry puff.

Tim smiles at her sheepishly. “I know. But he’s been extra protective of me ever since it happened.”

Stella wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Im guessing you two are dating in this universe too?”

Tim blushes. “Yeah. Is the Tim in your world with Conner too?” He asks.

“Pftt. No. They both have the hots for each other. But they’re both too proud to admit anything. It will probably take a life changing moment for those two to get together. Like..”

“Like the accident that brought Conner and I together in this world.” Tim finishes.

Stella looks at Tim sadly. “I’m sorry.” She looks down at her feet.

Tim rolls his chair closer to where Stella was sitting. He places his arm gently on her shoulder. She looks up.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not any of our faults.”

“Except that stupid clown.” Stella mutters under her breath.

Tim sighs. “Yeah.” He says as he turns to face someone. “Hey Alfred.”

Stella turns around to see Alfred approaching them. It was then she realized the sun had set, and it was already night time.

“Master Tim, Bruce is looking for you. Something has come up and they require your help.”

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x OC #Stella Convington #Red Hood #DCU #Alternate Universe #Fanfiction #iwritethings #alfred pennyworth #Tim Drake #Renegade

[smells-like-ink-and-fire]

Innocence died screaming, honey I should know

Here’s the thing: For all his talk of Gotham being a life-sucking, happiness draining shithole, leaving it had never been truly an option on Jason’s mind. It was his shithole of a city goddammit, the grim dirt streets he would die on. It was his home, the blood on his veins. This city had its claws deep into him, and leaving, especially leaving never to return, had been simply impossible, did not compute to him.

Especially now, that Jason was getting along better with the Bats these days. He still didn’t, and never would agree with Bruce regarding his no-killing rule. But things were better, or at least he thought they were. His presence was expected and even accepted. There were some awkwardness and silent nobody knew how to fill, but there were also jokes and eating junk food together after patrol. Sure, there were a lot of snippy comments but he made those too, gave as good as he got, and Bruce still didn’t quite trust him, not to the extent he did with the other, though that was just a given, he had made peace with it, he still killed, after all, a little suspicion was an acceptable price to pay for it.

Self-righteous, holier than thou bat.

Still, there was an uneasiness on his chest whenever the pointed looks got too much when they would start questioning his actions and his plans like he hadn’t been trained by the world's greatest detective like the rest of them and League of Shadows on top of that. Forgetting that Jason had effectively taken control of the East End in less than two months, and without any of them noticing.

The good parts didn’t lessen the rage-hurt out when Barbara sneered at him, acting like he couldn’t be trusted in the field, like the fact he had issues, that he cared about the victims because he had been one made him incapable of being rational, turned him into something that was eternally compromised. Like he was a mindless raging monster, who would shoot to kill at mere provocation.

He had been, once, fresh out of those green waters, traumatized, angry, afraid, and replaced. He had been a child, too, didn’t that count for something?

Their veiled accusations of insanity, that he had a problem, that needed to be handled like he was a fucking dog, the angry gremlin claims that he was unhinged and the only reason that they kept him around was to keep an eye on him, it all made Jason feel queasy, made him feel less than human.

It made him wonder how truly welcome he was. Was he welcome or they were just trying to appease their guilt and keep a loose cannon from the streets?

But there were undoubtedly good things too. Moments that made it worth it. His relationship with Steph and Duke, and surprisingly, Replacement was getting better, even though the first two were not around as much as he would like. The nights they had spent chewing off some of the undoubtedly brilliant but assholes teachers while demolishing mountains of homework had been fun, and Replacement-Tim was quite a sass master, now only if he could convince the kid to take a step back from WE so that he wouldn’t have a heart attack before he could drink legally.

Replacement, however, was why he was here. Here being diner on the border of the Bowery and Robinsonville, The Raging Duck, a new place that Golden Boy wanted to try, make a family bonding experience out of it, Jason was sure. Replacement had twisted his way around with words in a shape that made it impossible for him not to come. His saving grace was that Jason had already made clear that he couldn’t stay long, under the pretext of having to verify that month payments collection from the Bowery.

Which was goddammed good thing because this whole outing had been a mistake. The last couple weeks had been rough, with the stress of studying and writing applications for his master degree, the couple of murders that almost led to a gang war between the Falcone and the Russians,  plus a decoy staged by the Riddler, as his newest scape plan, that had taken too long to crack leading to an accident that had killed three people and would have killed a lot more if Jason hadn’t said fuck and put bullet holes on some goons heads. This in turn led to an inevitable argument because of Batman's continuous incapacity to see the necessity of his actions while on some level recognizing that was the only poss0ible decision meant that tension had been higher than usual.

Therefore, putting everybody in a room together was definitely not the best idea, Dickie! The last ten minutes certainly proved so, what had started as an easy-going conversation about their early on mishaps of the field, which included a hefty number of stories where the main theme was “And then I said Fuck Batman – With varying degrees of success” that had started as a split-second change of subject in order to avoid a fight breaking out, had turned into passive-aggressive attacking Jason. The worst part was that Jason wasn’t even sure they were doing on purpose.

Did the even realize he was sitting right next to them? Or was he just a ghost?

“… and then the fantastic Robin fell three stores down only to be needed to be saved by the incredible Spoiler! So, listen to me kids, if you’re going to say fuck Batman you should at least be sure there is something to break your fall before you jump.”  - Steph finished the story with a flourish, going back to her waffles.

“That was a level of stupidity that I wasn’t aware that you were capable of Replacement. Really, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.

“Please, as if you weren’t the first one to ignore an order just to fuck with B, Jason. There’s a list. The Incident with the Falcone. Killer Crock latest scape. The entire shit show that was last week. – Tim shot back, mulish, poking at his fries

And every single of those missions was a raging success.

“Which is the one involving Babs, back when she was still BG, you know the one she always mentions, because I don’t know what you did dude but she’s still pissed at you for it.”

“Oh, I know! Bruce forced them to work together on that one, it was a drug-smuggling operation that involved kids. Jason jumped in instead of waiting for her signal. Needless to say, it did not end up well. Babs was so very pissed.”

Yeah for the assholes that thought using kids as drug mules was a good idea. BG was just made the street rat had a better plan than her

“Is that why warehouse 25F is a gory, burned-out mess?”

“Nah, that came later, during that corruption case that nearly put the Comish in the hospital. Or maybe it was the one involving that Nazi Arts dealer?”

“Is there a difference? They always end up in unnecessary explosions. Todd’s need for dramatics and overuse of force are well documented”

Because you can talk about overuse of force, demon spawn.                    

“Robin. Less explosions. Trying to help. Hurt.”

“Yeah, he was trying to help Cass, nobody is denying that the thing is Jason desire to be a little shit and prove Batman wrong is way stronger than his drive to help people, and even though there were far less explosions back then, both he and innocent people have gotten hurt.”

How you’d know? You weren’t around back then Dickface.

“So, we can agree that it’s basically a Pavlovian response for him at this point. Your stubbornness and desire to say Fuck Batman no matter the consequences have been able to surpass death Jason, and if that it’s not a feat, I don’t know what is. Congratulations, really!” – Steph summarized.

He had been holding up fine until that point but he just didn’t have the strength to it anymore, every word out it Tim's mouth felt like the blow of crowbar shattering his ribs, chocking on his own blood because a Batarang slashed his throat. He felt faint. He felt dangerously close to crying.

“I have to go.” – Jason got out of his chair.

“Jason…” – The pitying and yet reproachful note on Dick’s voice made his skin crawl.

“I said I couldn’t stay very long. Some of us have stuff to do. You know criminal empires to run, places to blow up, kneecaps to shoot.” – He doped a twenties bill on the table.

“Todd. Cease being childish. Just because you are unable to accept your failures, and the fact that you were incompetent and arrogant enough to be captured by an enemy does not mean you should incapable of accepting constructive criticism.”

“Not being childish gremlin. I do have a criminal empire to run. And I do take constructive criticism, preferably from people who know what the hell they are talking about. You know people that are more than the “blood sons” of people that are greater than themselves. Noise midgets, not so much. Bye.”  – Jason out of the dinner before any of them can reply.

See you never again.

He doesn’t know how he gets back to his closest safe house. It’s a reasonably good one. He likes this one. He focusses on the things he likes. Hardwood floor. The light green paint. On the things, he doesn’t. The shitty heating. The fact that the cabinets doors don’t shut all the way.

Breaths. Slowly. In and Out. Counts to three hundred. Breaths again.

The tears still prickle on his eyes. His chest feels hollow. His throat is dry. He doesn’t have the strength to move from where he’s sat on the floor, his back against the door. Going a few rounds with Deathstroke had hurt less. It certainly never made him want to crawl under his bed and stay there until the world forget he existed. Of course, Slade had also never blamed for his own death.

Even though his own father had. Reckless, overly aggressive, incapable of following orders, loud-mouthed Robin that got what he deserved, Bruce had said. Maybe not to his face but he had said it. Then again it had been his fault, hadn’t it?

He takes a few more breaths, tries to push his emotions back, locking them deep, and walks to the fridge, pours himself a glass of water. Drinks it. His mind goes back to the conversation. The glass shatters in his hand.

“Oh, fuck!”

He goes to the sink, to clean his hands and throws the broken glass into the trash. Lucky there were only some minor cuts that don’t need stitches even if they hurt like a bitch.

Take that universe!

Still, he wraps them in bandages since he doesn’t fancy cleaning blood out of his sheets. Sleep, however, doesn’t come easily that night, and the time he doesn’t spend tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position to follow to try to fall back asleep in, he spends waking up from dreams that leave him feeling like he’s constantly falling, sharp terror waking him each and every time.

There is no rest for the wicked though, and so he takes off by late morning and goes to check o on the rest of the gang, makes sure Antony is running things smoothly. All in all, it’s pretty boring, with enough paperwork to make a bonfire, but it does the job of taking his mind out the things for a while. Patrol is uneventful, which is a welcome respite, and Jason doesn’t do much more than stop a few muggings and beating up some creeps.

During that time, he keeps an ear out for the bats, especially Dick since he’s not anywhere near the mood to listen to another of the boy wonder lectures about how “Damian is just a child; you shouldn’t take what he says seriously”, especially those came with the addition of being delivered in that tone that screamed, “even though he’s right”. But he must have gone back to his turf because he sees no hair nor hide of him or any of the others.

The next two nights are very much a repetition of that first one, with little sleep and little action, so much so that a paranoid and exhausted part of him gets a bit terrified and so he ends up calling Roy just to hear the genius talk about whatever crazy project he’s been working on lately. If the redhead has any idea why Jason is calling him at four in the morning, he doesn’t comment on it and simply talks until his friend's breath has even out.

This way when the sun comes up the next day, Jason drags himself out of bed and heads straight to the shower, the cold water helps ground him back into his body. Still feeling like shit but at least knowing the difference between dream and reality he eats his breakfast while checking his messages and it’s more than a little bit shocked to see a text from Bruce asking, as in there is an actual please in it if they can talk about a possible case with a few crossed wires. There’s even an invitation to stay for dinner alongside with it, which makes him wonder if Bruce hit his head a little too hard the other day, or if Alfred finally made good on his promise of finding a drug that made him less emotionally stunned.

No matter the cause, the message leaves him hopeful enough that he answers with a yeah, I’ll be there by five.

He arrives at the Manor door fifteen minutes past five, just in case, greeting Alfred with a smile that the old butler easily returns. They make some small talk as the older man demands him to at least drink a cup of tea before heading down. Still, they part at the entrance of the cave and Jason takes those final steps alone.

“Sup, old man?”

“Jason.” – Bruce answers, his back turned, typing at the bat computer, probably filling some reports.

“C’mon B, you’re the one who called me unless of course, you somehow have been possessed and that please was you asking for help, in which case, give me a second and let me call the Martian Manhunter, you gotta give a bit more of information.” – Jason kept his gaze on Bruce’s back, his breath steady, he was not rambling thank you very much!

“There been some talk about an escort service in Diamond District that works as a front from money laundering. I think you might know some of the girls.”

“Little bit out of my way. Maybe you should check with Cat.”

Bruce’s eyes were shining, and the line of his mouth meant that he was finding it funny and Jason was filed to the brim with a wave of warmth and nostalgia. It made him feel like a kid again, it made him like Robin again, like magic.

“Maybe we should.”

“Oh gross! Let’s go back to the ever-existing cases of corruption and gross old man please?”

“Isabella McGarvey”

“Know the surname. Any relation to Ophelia McGarvey?”

"Her older sister I believe, records show that she moved from the East Side two years ago but didn’t take her sister with her because she was a minor…"

Most of the afternoon passed that way. With the Batman and the Red Hood checking financial records, discussing disappearances and police reports in an amiable tone, full of teasing.  It was a welcome change of pace being the one providing the answers to all-knowing Batman for once. So, he took his time explaining the inner workings and the shady dealings of the Alley, preening at the attention and the approval, something he would deny until his second dying day.

Perhaps the only dark spot in the otherwise bright day was the fact that Jason kept purposely having to avoid looking at the southeast corner of the cave, at the glass cage that seemed to hover over them.

Refusing to acknowledge that some part of Bruce would always believe he was dead

“There maybe be a loose end might be worth exploiting but I don’t know how long that window would be open: There was a shooting, a few days ago, near the Bowery and Robinsonville, no cameras, three dead, the assailant left no evidence behind.”

“Don’t know what to tell you Bats, last time I was there I was with your kids, didn’t hear anything, neither did mine. I mean, I could ask but this is Gotham, murders are pretty much the norm. Unless those guys are part of something bigger, I got you nothing.” -  Jason shrugged, already calculating the possibilities of why this is relevant and coming out with nothing.

Damn all-knowing paranoid bat.

“They were. Trafficking ring. Middleman.”

“There is no trafficking ring in the Alley”.

Of that he’s certain.

“There is not. Because those men were killed before they could take anyone. But they were known for it, and they were asking the sort of questions that could ping on your radar.”

“Well, I haven’t heard anything. I’ll make sure to pay more attention, update some protocols.” – Jason answered, already planning to investigate it.

If they were acting as a middleman for someone roaming around then that someone would send more to scoop the territory out and he would be prepared when they came, regardless of what else could be there. There were no trafficking rings in Alley.

“Or maybe you did and decided to take care of it your own terms”

The abruptness of the question was so earth-shattering that he took a few steps back to regain his balance.

“Jesus Christ Bruce if are gonna accuse me of murder you could at least have the decency of start with that. No, I did not kill them. If any of mine did I haven’t heard of it. But as far as I’m concerned is no great loss.” - He succeeds at sounding nonchalant and enraged, hiding the fact that the question felt like a bucket of water, leaving his cold and shaking.

So, this is why Bruce actually called, so he could question Jason about his latest failure, his latest disappointment in Bruce’s eyes. Of course, it was, and he was a fool for ever thinking otherwise. For letting himself hope that Bruce was trying, that he wanted to rekindle the relationship they had when Jason still wore those green panties.

“Where were you at 2:30 in the morning, three nights ago?”

“What?”

Please god, everything but this. I can’t do this again

“At the time of the murder, where were you?

“In a dinner with your kids.” – Jason’s voice was nothing more than a whisper as if all the air had been pushed out of his lungs.

Why you don’t believe me? Why you don’t trust me?

“Damian said you left early, earlier than that, because he got home at 3:00. It takes at least half an hour to get here from there.

“Safehouse a few blocks away, then. Sleeping. Bruce, please”.  – Jason was begging now, voice raw and full of hurt.

“Can you prove that?”

"The hell is wrong with you?!? I already told you: I. DID. NOT. KILL. THEM. When have I ever not taken credit for the people I’ve killed?"

“What’s going on?”

And of course, because his luck could not be worse, that was the Perfect Grayson coming down the stairs. He could feel the headache forming behind his eyes. He did not want to deal with this shit right now.

Was it too much to ask for the ground swallow him whole?

“Nothing! Bruce’s just spent the last five minutes pointlessly accusing of murder! Can you get the fuck out so we can continue discussing it?”

“You were near the scene of the crime, you have a motive, the means, and a history.”

“Wait you killed someone?”

“No! Keep up, Bruce is just being a dick, you know like you usually are.”

“Is a valid concern”

“Is a piece of shit that is what it is!”

“Can someone please explain?”

“Bruce thinks I killed three people after I left the dinner the other day.”

That what you did after you left? It’s that what you meant by shooting kneecaps? Jay… I know that you were angry but this…

“Jesus Fucking Christ Didn’t I just say its bullshit?”

“You said that?”

“It was a joke”

“You have motive, means, no alibi and now your brother is telling me that you left because you needed to shoot someone. What do you want me to believe?”

“THAT I WOULDN’T LIE ABOUT IT!”

“If you were planning only to main them, if your anger got the better out you, as it has before if you did it out impulse, and is trying yo hide it.”

“You know what Bruce? You’ve already made up your mind so I will do us all a favor and get myself out. You can’t trust me? Well, I can’t trust you. From now on there will be no bats at the East End. If you are seen, you will be shot. That’s how trigger happy I fucking am!”

He pushed passed Dick and Bruce, the world was tingled with pit green glow, his ears were roaring, no sound, only rage, and loss. Every step he took was calculated, his breath was short, measured. A of violence ready to blow up at the mere provocation held together only by the barest threads of sanity and humanity and the training Ducra had given him. Roy’s voice babbling at him. Kori’s booming laughter. Kyle ridiculous art. Donna’s everlasting sass and warmth.

Somehow, someway he made home without turning Gotham into a bloodbath, and the relative he felt at activating the security protocol was fastly overtaken by fear. He hadn’t had an attack like that in over three months. Hadn’t let the Pit burning so strong in his veins in so long. Hadn’t felt that disconnection to reality since his early days out of the Pit.

Just the idea of what could have happened in case he lost control made Jason grab the nearest bucket and puke. He stayed there, pressing the palm of hinds to his eyes, heaving.

It didn’t matter, because it didn’t happen.

His phone rang, and if it was anybody else calling, he let go straight to voicemail, but it was Talia’s ringtone and she didn't call jus for kicks, so he presses answer.

“If I told you I didn’t kill a man would you believe me?” – Jason blurts out before he can stop himself, red coloring his cheeks as he realizes what he just said, cursing himself for his stupidity.

“Of course. Why would…I see.” – Talia’s face goes from neutral to confusion and finally anger in a matter of seconds. – “Your father does not know you at all Habibi, and that, rest assured, is entirely his fault. He’s too caught up in the image he made of you to be able to see you as truly are.”

“Batman being a stunned idiot, who can look past his own reasoning of the world? What an earthshattering idea T! – Jason says sarcastically trying to cover up his earlier emotional outburst. -  Anyway, got a reason for calling?

“Do not play coy with me, Jason, it’s unbecoming. Regardless, I do not believe Gotham has done you good. Moreover, I do not believe your father's actions towards you have been in any way helpful to your recovery and growth.”

“What are you? My therapist?”

“I would not be against for you to see one, but I would not force you either. Your choices, as always, must be your own. Besides is my understanding that to be effective therapy must also involve privacy. Another thing that its unlikely to come by if you are to remain here.

“Gotham needs me. The Alley needs me, God knows the Bat can’t handle this shit, they don’t care and even if they did the Alley would never trust them” – It wasn’t as much a rebuttal as it was an excuse

“They do, but you are of no use to them if you are constantly emotionally compromised by the rash and thoughtless actions of those who do not understand you and do not seek to. Loyalty is a gift that must be not be given lightly and they make ill use of yours while reaping the benefits of it. Perhaps it’s time for them to learn how to much you do for them. The absence does make the heart grow fonder.”

“You’re telling me to leave.”

“I’m telling take a step back. You’ve done tremendous work, but there’s more to you then violence. The petty criminals and drug dealers and the pimps are all properly terrified, your minions are capable enough that they can keep your operation running without your direct involvement. Rest. Recover. Come back when you are ready. Besides, you do have your master’s degree to consider, don’t you?”  - Jason blushed, Talia wasn’t one to give compliments that she didn’t mean, and she did have a point, but…

But what? What did he truly have here? It had taken less than ten minutes for Dick convince Bruce, based on nothing more than a few throw away words Jason had said when he was angry and hurting, that Jason had killed a man and once that decision had been made no amount of evidence would make Bruce turn around in his favor. The others probably already knew what had happened and just as likely had decided to stay away from him from now on. After all, if he couldn’t take a little teasing without blasting someone’s brains out then he was certainly no better than the crazies in Arkham, to them.

What Talia was offering has the peace of taking a walk without being judged by the path he chooses to walk on, let the dust stele until bygones were bygones and he could look at Dick’s- Holier-Than-Thou face without breaking every single bone in it.

What did he have to lose that he couldn’t take back later on?

“You do realize that this will take quite a bit of work and resources, right? – Jason could almost see that pleased little smile of hers spread on Talia’s face.

“You do realize who you are speaking with don’t you Habibi? Let’s get to work.

#first chapter #Criminal Minds #Jason Todd #fanfic #Im so nervous #Go check on AO3' #Im sorry for the delay #Spoiler: Jason is a Sad Boy in this #But he'll get better #Xover #Spencer Reid shows up in the next chapter #Worry not #im very proud of myself #ive written

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Dead Ivy | Chapter One

CHECK IT OUT FROM THE START | AO3 LINK

Beca could feel the soil beneath her fingertips. It was soft, freshly overturned, and in a way, comforting. She was careful not to let her knees touch the ground- not privy to the dark stains that would splay against the fabric. The tree stood tall above her, stretching its large oak branches towards the pluming blue sky. A nice summer breeze tussled her hair, and she was sure that if she breathed in, she would smell freshly cut grass and chlorine from the neighbor’s pool.

The treehouse had long since been torn down to make room for her mother’s garden. Something that stood at the end of the fenced in yard. For a while, she grew tomatoes and zucchini. Beca could still remember the first red bulb that poked its head from the dirt. They made a salad from store-bought spinach and divided up the little thing, no bigger than a golf ball. It was still the best tomato that Beca had ever had.

She sighed at the hand that squeezed her shoulder gently. Her father smelled of aftershave and bourbon. His tie wasn’t fastened all the way to his white button down, and he had strung his suit jacket over his arm. He held a sad look that was shielded by the sun as Beca squinted at him. She pulled herself to her feet, feeling the age of her aching bones as she stepped back from the large oak tree and stared up at the branches.

“Do you remember when I fell out of this tree and broke my arm?” She asked.

Her fathers’ eyes crinkled at the memory as he gave her a sad smile. She had needed him to run beside her when he first took the training wheels off her bike. She had needed him when she learned how to drive and took out the Johnson’s mailbox. But when she dropped from a higher spot in the oak tree and felt something audibly snap, it was her mother that came to the rescue.

She had been clipping up sheets to the clothesline, claiming that the summer air was always better for stuff like that. A beautiful woman that would beam endlessly and cradle Beca in her arms with her stormy eyes and eerie calm. Beca needed that right now. Needed it to get through the handshakes and the hugs. The baked goods and casseroles that people deemed necessary when something like this happened.

“I do.” He chuckled wearily, “I got a call at work that something had happened. You scared the hell out of me that day, kid.”

Beca snorted at the nickname. She and her father had gotten along significantly better since she moved out on her own- took up a place and a prominent career across the country in Los Angeles of all places. She had, of course, taken time off work to come back for the funeral. To pull into the sleepy little Georgia town with a giant oak tree that shook in the summer breeze. She squinted at the bark, at the carving so crudely made by a grooved pocket knife.

C + B FOREVER & EVER

The second half was etched in different handwriting, something more elegant and thought out. It was funny, really. When they were kids, it was easier to think about the future in terms of relationships. Of course, they would always be with one another- they wouldn’t fathom being apart. But then college. Careers. Plane rides. Marriage, kids, and divorces. All inevitable. All anything but forever.

“She still lives around here, you know? Owns a little café in the far side of town.”

“That so?”

He grunted and sniffed away any feeling that still leaked in his voice. No one would question them for standing out here- but they still felt obligated to go back inside the old farm style house with the wrap around porch and the honeysuckle bushes. Beca didn’t know how he could still live here. “Yeah. You should pay her a visit while you’re here. I bet she’d like that.”

Beca simply nodded and let the tips of her fingers trace of the words that had been weathered over time, but they were still there. They had stood the test of time, unlike her treehouse. Unlike the little plants of tomatoes and zucchini that had rotted away to decaying vines that stretched like deadened ivy up the side of the fence.

“Right. Well, we should probably go back inside. The quicker we talk to everyone, the quicker they can go home and mourn their memories.”

It was a grim thing to say, but it was the truth, so her father let the words die in the air before sliding on the suit jacket to cover up the sweat stains against his dress shirt. She let her hand fall and looped it around his arm like he was escorting her down the carpeted floor of a chapel on her wedding day. Instead of white, she dawned black, though. And so, did he.

She thought that drinking and sadness walked hand and hand. It was why the only two bars in town did so well on any given night, and if things were bad, any given day. The other place, the snake eye, had karaoke on Friday nights and Beca didn’t think she was well equipped to listen to TLC, so she chose The Red Sun instead.

There were repurposed Christmas lights strung against the bottom of the counter, hot to the touch. A low rock ballad cracked over the loudspeaker. She wasn’t sure if the jukebox that changed light settings every few beats actually had a purpose or if it just ate up quarters. Either way, Beca Mitchell was in her own world.

She tilted her head back and let the bourbon burn on the way down. A nice and subtle sting that washed the taste of stale crackers out of her mouth. It was the only thing in her stomach- despite the spread that was now packed with tin foil in the fridge. Her father was drinking too, she was sure, at home in his study. The house was too quiet for her, though.

Beca felt a twinge of guilt in her gut.

She had ignored the last call from her brother. She was in the middle of the meeting, and at the time, the buzzing of her phone sounded louder than anything else in the world. She flushed instantly and clicked the side of the device before staring back down at her notes and sunk further into her seat.

He had died the next day, she had forgotten to call him back. A car accident and a drunk driver. Which, she supposed, defeated the purpose of being here- in this stupid some-hazy bar with nothing but time on her hands. She considered switching her flight to something earlier. But then reconsidered as quickly as the thought entered her mind. Her father needed her, at least for now.

“Beca Mitchell?” The voice startled her, it broke through the garbled focus of the next song. She blinked a few times and turned her head to the side. Stacie Conrad. She looked older, wiser even, but maybe that was the glasses. The smile on her face aged her, but in the best way. Still impossibly attractive, and confident, it seems. “Is that really you?”

“As I live and breathe.”

She winced at her use of words, but Stacie didn’t seem to notice as she quickly wrapped her in an awkward hug, Beca still half-sitting on a bar stool. Still, she craved the embrace and hugged back naturally.  

“God, how are you?” She pulled away, “That’s a stupid question… I mean, as well as you can be, I hope.”

Before Beca could answer she lifted her hand in the air and signaled the bartender, the woman busied herself with preparing Stacie’s usual and pouring another sour edge of bourbon into Beca’s glass. She wasn’t sure if she would drink it or not, but she appreciated the sentiment behind it. Stacie settled into the seat next to her.

“I’m doing fine,” She finally managed, earning a detrimental look. “As well as I can be.”

The bartender set two glasses in front of them and Beca wrinkled her nose at it before focusing her attention on Stacie, the way her own drink looked like radioactive fluid. It was always the fruity things that packed the most punch. Not the gritty glass that she would be nursing for the rest of their conversation.

“I’m sorry to hear about him, you know.” Stacie finally said after a beat of silence.

Beca simply nodded. She was numb to the situation at this point. Her whole body felt like a lead pipe. She and Jason didn’t get along too well. He traveled the world and she resented him for that. But they played nice during the holidays and smiled for family pictures. He got divorced young, married even younger. It still ached her whole entire being.

“You and most of the town,” Beca chuckled dryly, begging for a change of subject. “I haven’t seen you in what? Eleven years?”

“Twelve. God, we’re old.”

She was thankful that her high school friend could take a keenly dropped hint. The two of them encircled the same click during those years. It was better than giving in to the southern tenacity of it all. They would smoke behind the bleachers and drink if they were feeling lucky. They usually were.

Beca caught a glimpse at the wedding band that took over Stacie’s finger. It was simple, not overstated with large diamonds. A simple one that was surrounded by two smaller stones. She smiled “You’re married now?”

She took another gulp of her fruity drink and hummed in response, instinctively twirling it around her ring finger. She got a goofy grin on her face and twirled slightly to make eye contact with Beca. Sure, she had seen the social media posts. The cute announcements and the picturesque scenes.

“Happily, at that, we invited you to the wedding, you know?”

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“S’alright,” Stacie said with a beaming smile “Rose loves the panini press.”

Beca scoffed and picked up her glass, chancing a sip of the molten liquid. It hissed as she swallowed, and she blinked away the residual prick of pain that collected behind her eyes. Stacie glanced behind her at the group of girls that she had come in with- doctors like her, she supposed. They all had that tired professional look that the woman beside her carried.

“Listen, uh, how long are you in town? I’d love a chance to catch up in a setting with better lighting.”

“A couple of weeks, at most. We have to settle his estate.” She grimaced at the technical term. “I’ll be around.”

“We’ll catch up, promise?”

She gave Beca a squeeze on her shoulder and a sympathetic smile, but she didn’t say it again and Beca was thankful for that. She watched as Stacie went to the four other colleges that were in her inner circle. They all asked questions and cast wary looks her way- she lifted the glass and gave a smile before turning back to the bartender. She was cleaning out a glass and eyeing her.

“Promise,” Beca mumbled, tipping her head back the rest of the way, finishing the glass of bourbon she hadn’t even ordered.  

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Bechloe #fanfiction #pitch perfect fanfiction #pitch perfect

[chibinightowl]

The Adventures of Sir Timothy Drake

Link to Chapter One

Chapter Two: The Dragon’s Lair

The next morning, Tim was still in a daze, reeling from the events of last night. A dragon. The horned man with the stunning blue eyes was the human form of a dragon.

Said dragon was currently rustling around in his cave, trying to decide what books to bring with for his trip to Tim’s home. It was also pretty apparent he was trying to figure out where his newest acquisitions were supposed to fit into the massive collection as well. To be fair, Tim was in awe over the library, because it truly was a library and one that likely rivaled even those of the massive universities he’d heard about in the lands to the south. It made his own few bookcases seem pitiful by comparison.

“You have wings somewhere,” Tim finally spoke up after about half a candlemark’s worth of pondering where they are and how displacement worked. “You can fly back here at any time to read, you know. In fact, you’ll probably want to after spending a week with my mother.”

“Your mother is an ant,” Jason retorted, hefting a massive tome down from a stone shelf to flip through it briefly before putting it back. “In my real form, they’re too small for me to even notice.”

“True, but I’m sure even an ant can get under your skin somehow.” Tim tried to stop watching the dragon pack and instead turned his attention to the cave. It was hard to call it a cave when every single item in it spoke to comfort and luxury. For one, the hard rock was polished smooth so that it gleamed in the magelights dotting the walls in little recessed alcoves. No torches were allowed in here, not with all the books. Because that’s what this dragon’s hoard truly contained. Books.

Tim decided he could happily spend the rest of his life here if it weren’t for concerns at home.

But something else he observed was that the furnishings were of human size. Plush chairs, chaises with pillows and blankets of soft fabrics, even tables and goblets all suited to the human body. Considering Jason’s bibliophile tendencies, it made sense considering his books didn’t exactly come in dragon size. The thought of a full-sized dragon trying to read one of these books, even the massive one Jason had flipped through, was ludicrous.

Tim settled against the wall and continued watching. He’d abandoned his chainmail upon waking earlier (sleeping in it wasn’t something he favored, but he’d been sharing his campfire with a dragon) and replaced it with a plain tunic and leggings, but even still, he stank of steel and iron. Unlike most of the knights of his acquaintance, the smell didn’t appeal to him. Nor did wearing armor, which was his preference when he could get away with it.

He spoke up. “It doesn’t look like you need me around for the moment, so I’m going to wash up in that stream I saw outside.” Tim drew himself upright to leave but the dragon turned and gazed at him quizzically.

“Why?”

It wasn’t the question he was expecting. “Because I stink of chainmail I no longer need to wear.”

Jason smirked, an expression Tim was becoming all too used to seeing on his handsome face. “No, I meant why the stream?”

Now it was Tim’s turn to return the look with a wry one of his own. “Where else am I supposed to take a bath?”

The dragon’s smirk morphed into a grin. “I have a bathing chamber here. With warm water.”

It was tempting. Very tempting. “How many buckets would I have to fill?”

“None.”

“You have my attention.”

It turned out that the cave wasn’t just one cavernous room full of books. There were side tunnels cleverly hidden from plain sight, one of which Jason led Tim down, lights appearing as they passed and dimming behind them. This particular tunnel sloped downwards until it opened into a brightly tiled room with a shallow pool for water, everything subtly lit with more magelights. Tim was instantly curious. He’d seen a room like this when he was in Kandor accompanying Lord Marshal Gordon on his many diplomatic missions. He and his best friend, Prince Kon-el, had even spent a very enjoyable evening in one, but the pool had already been full by the time they arrived.

Jason strode to the far side of the tiled pool and twisted something on the wall. Water started pouring in from two different sluice gates. Tim gasped and raced over, sticking his face in as close as he could to see how it worked. “It’s siphoning off from somewhere, isn’t it? Is it above us or below? If it’s below, what kind of pressure makes it rise?”

“I should have let you bathe in the stream. Fewer questions.”

“I believe your marriage proposal hinged on your desire to teach me,” Tim retorted without even thinking.

The dragon laughed at that. “So very true. Well, come take a gander at this.”

Tim tore his attention away from the wall and Jason placed his hand in the slowly rising water. A glow emitted from the center of his palm and light streaked out, tendrils tapping submerged tiles and lighting them up, first red, and then tapering into a deep blue that tinted the water. There was more to it than just color as the previously cold water started steaming from the influx of heat. Tim wasn’t sure if he was more intrigued by how the dragon’s fire worked underwater or if the tiles were charmed in some way to generate heat and different colors. Or were they insulated and the light activated them in some manner to retain heat? Too many questions, not any answers. He should do something about that. “Are the tiles glass or stone?”

That wasn’t quite what Tim wanted to ask, but the dragon’s reaction was worth it as he gaped and almost fell into the rising water, he was laughing so hard.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he finally said when he recovered his breath and his balance. “I show you magic and you ask about the tile.”

Tim shrugged because he’d been called worse things. “I went with the practical. I was tested for the spark years ago and didn’t have it.” Mages were rare and his father’s family had a few, so it made sense for him to be tested. He’d wanted it so badly as it would have been an escape from his home.

“There’s more than one kind of magic,” Jason offered, rising to his feet. “You know, it’s occurred to me we don’t need to go rushing back to your homeland. Let’s spend a few days here, get to know each other, and I can stimulate that brain of yours even more.” He winked at the last part, to which Tim could feel his ears heat up.

“S-sure,” he stuttered. “Works for me. It’s not like anyone is expecting me home right away.” If at all. Dick would be though. The older knight had been devastated when he’d heard what kind of quest Tim was being sent on, vowing to follow after him on his own until Tim made him swear on his daughter’s life that he wouldn’t follow. Mar’i was his world and he wasn’t beneath using that fact to wrangle the vow out of his oldest friend.

“There’s towels and soap over there,” Jason pointed at the opposite side of the pool. “And a basin if you want to rinse off before soaking.”

Tim knelt and trailed his fingers in the water. It was warm, but not overly so. “Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Eh, no need. You stink of steel and horse.”

“If I never have to wear chainmail again, I’ll die a happy man.” With that, Tim rose and walked away, the sound of the dragon’s deep laugh echoing in the chamber.

He soon discovered there was more to the room than just the tiled pool. It all spoke to riches beyond his ken, but also to science and engineering that made him want to spend much more than just a few days here. As he stripped down and rinsed off in an area clearly designed for it (including a clever little grate in the floor for the water to drain), Tim hoped there would be more visits here in the future, if only to figure out how to replicate something similar at home. Even the baths in Kandor were filled by bucket and heated rocks were used to maintain the temperature.

At the same time, he wondered why exactly Jason was putting himself out like this. He was the son of a duke whose only real worth was what was between his ears. For the first time, he was with someone who appreciated him for that rather than what he wasn’t. There were a few exceptions, of course, but his friends weren’t the ones who offered to marry him.

It was exciting and clearly the reason why his natural inclination to sit back and observe was going to the wayside.

The worst of the road dust and grime rinsed off, Tim turned to the pool to refill his basin and stopped short.

Jason was standing on the edge of the recessed tile, holding full basin of his own. He was also as bare skinned as he was. Tim swallowed, not having expected the dragon to accompany him into the bath. He tried not to stare, but it was a battle not to, what with all the lightly tanned skin, muscle he never was able to pack on, and the tattoos. There were two intricate patterns that wrapped around his arms, over his shoulders, and disappeared onto his back.

At least Tim had an excuse to stare now. “Those are impressive,” he offered, picking up his basin to walk around the dragon. “Are they significant in any particular way or do you just like the designs?”

He was proud of how he managed to keep his voice steady and eyes above the waist. He was no stranger to casual bathing with other men (namely Dick and that was an exercise in will every single time to not accidently on purpose brush up against him; his wife Kori certainly wouldn’t appreciate it either).

Tim knelt and refilled his basin, feeling eyes on him the entire time. Apparently, the courtesy he was extending wasn’t being returned to him. There wasn’t much to see, he thought as he rose. Pale skin, a few scars, only one of which had much of a story behind it.

Turning, he caught Jason still watching him intently. Fine then. Tim didn’t see much point in hiding his own budding desire when it was clear there was at least some reciprocal interest in return, even if it was just for his brain. “Something wrong?” he asked as he walked back to the rinsing area. He set his basin down, picked up the soap and a damp cloth, and started to wash.

“You are the strangest human I’ve ever met,” Jason finally returned. “I normally only find your women attractive, but…”

Tim looked over his shoulder at the man and tried to hide his own grin, but failed miserably. Jason looked so confused even if something below his waist didn’t seem to have any doubts whatsoever. “Remember, you were the one who to proposed to me,” he replied. “I honestly have no preferences when it comes to the gender of my bed partners, but if you’re only into women, then we better get things figured out fast because I refuse to be celibate for the rest of my life.”

But Jason was shaking his head in disagreement before Tim even finished. “No, no, that’s not it in the slightest. Human women and elven men tend to be my go-to’s for when I’m feeling frisky. You’re the first human man who’s managed to do this to me.” He gestured to the one spot Tim had been very politely trying to ignore.

Rather than stare, Tim returned to washing up. “Well, if it’s won’t be a bother then, would you mind getting my back?”

In a flash, there was a dragon kneeling right behind him. He could feel the heat radiating off him even before a long-nailed hand plucked his soapy washcloth out of his hand and started running it up and down his back. “Are you usually this forward?” Jason asked, his hot breath tickling the hairs on Tim’s neck.

“No, not usually,” Tim said after a moment. There was just enough pressure being applied on his shoulder blades that he wished he dared ask for a massage to relieve the tension in his muscles. “But since it’s rather obvious you’re interested too, I don’t see any point in hiding it.”

“You’re taking all the fun out of seducing you, Sir Knight.” Tim shivered as warm lips ran over the sensitive skin of his neck, curving around to the side as Jason lapped his way down. He instinctively raised a hand to run his fingers through Jason’s hair, but encountered a horn instead.

But it was Jason who shuddered at the touch and nuzzled in further, wrapping those large and tattooed arms around him. Tim melted against the warm body and didn’t let go of the horn. Instead, his adjusted his grip and lightly ran his fingers up and down the bone. “Lower,” Jason groaned, his voice rough with desire. “Grip the base.”

Tim did as he was told, but took it one step further when something else prodded him from behind, inspiring him to further lengths. He gripped the base of the horn and carefully ran his fingers through Jason’s thick hair, rubbing at his scalp. The dragon moaned, long and low as though the air was being dragged from his lungs. His arms tightened around Tim and he buried his face against Tim’s collarbone, teeth dragging over the skin, wrenching a gasp from the knight.

“By the gods,” Jason swore and yanked his head away from Tim’s still questing hand, his breath ragged. “No one does that. Ever.”

“Why don’t they?” Tim asked, dropping his free hand to the bare skin of Jason’s thickly muscled thigh. The skin under his palm quavered as he grabbed hold and took advantage of the position to rock against the hard length prodding his lower back. “Seems to me that you like it. A lot.”

“I usually wear a glamor when I go out into the world,” the dragon admitted, his breathing rough as Tim continued pressing against him. “People don’t see my horns, or my eyes. My hands.” He raised one and waggled his black tipped fingers in emphasis.

Tim used the freedom and his soap slicked body to spin around and face Jason. He met those glowing blue orbs, much darker now as their little game of cat and mouse dragged on. “I understand if you feel the need to wear one around others. But when it’s just you and me, please, never have it on. You’re stunning the way you are.”

Words became a thing of the past as the dragon surged against Tim, trapping him between his strong thighs and holding him securely in his arms. A mouth crashed into his and Tim found himself lost in blue fire, so vibrant and gods-be-damned dark and sinful that he never wanted to find himself without it again.

~*~*~*~*~

Later, much later, Tim rolled over on what passed for Jason’s bed, a collection of cushions, pillows, and blankets, all in rich and fine fabrics, some of which he’d never even seen before. He rubbed a smooth silk between his fingers and pondered what manner of creature the thread was spun from. It was silk, just not of the same type he was familiar with. Next to him, Jason lay flat on his back, a tattooed arm flung dramatically over his head and the rest of the blanket Tim was fingering barely touching his hips. The dragon looked like some kind of fallen angel as far as he was concerned.

An angel he’d just finished riding into that sweet oblivion. Tim can’t say he regretted it at all. Besides, Jason was the one to taunt him in the first place about his oh-so-human stamina.

“Fuck your parents,” Jason spoke heatedly, his eyes still shut and not moving an inch. “I’m keeping you and that’s that.”

“I sincerely doubt that dragons hoard people,” Tim chuckled and dropped the fabric, opting instead to grab another blanket and pull it around his bare body.

“My den is a fucking library,” Jason snorted in response. “Do you really think I care?”

“Perhaps once you realize you have to feed me, unlike your books.” That was something he’d need to address soon considering his last meal was breakfast. In the darkness of the cave, it was impossible to determine what time it was. The finely wrought clock he’d spotted earlier was in the main cavern.

Jason waved a hand, brushing the thought aside. “You’re mouthy enough you wouldn’t let me forget.”

Tim let that one go and instead stared up at the polished rock above him. A couple of magelights were lit near the ceiling, providing a dim twilight for him to see by. Jason’s eyes must be able to see in other light spectrums, perhaps like the dwarves or even the elves to an extent, because it was bordering on too dark for him. The main cavern was brighter.

He muffled a sigh, recognizing what he was doing. Mundane thoughts covering for the deeper, heavier thoughts he should be having. What was he doing? He’d left home to kill a dragon and here he was in bed with him instead. Which was a much better alternative to be sure. Now he just needed to figure out what to tell his parents when he returned home with a fiancé.

“Would you stop that?” Jason growled and rolled over, his blue eyes glowing faintly under his cracked eyelids, peering out through dark lashes. “I can hear you thinking from here.”

“Really?” Tim queried, tugging his blanket tighter around him. “Are you a mind reader then?”

Jason snorted again and the scent of smoke wafted through the small space between them. “No, but I heard you sigh. Besides, I know what it’s like having a brain that just won’t shut off. Why do you think I read all the time?”

“Brain food,” was the first thing Tim came up with, which made them both laugh quietly. “It’s hard,” he admitted. “I have the worst time sleeping. The only time I ever seem to is when I’m too exhausted to do anything else. And even then, sometimes it doesn’t work.”

“I’ve read something about that,” Jason replied. “An elvish healer, I think. I’ll see if I can find the book for you.”

Elvish was a language Tim would sell his soul to learn fluently but now wasn’t the time to admit it. He was already indebted to the dragon enough. “Thank you,” he said, remembering his manners before it was too late.

“So, what are you thinking so hard about?” Jason reached out a long-nailed hand and ran his fingers through Tim’s own black hair. He relished the tender touch even if it didn’t garner the same reaction as it did from Jason.

“About home,” Tim admitted after a heartbeat. “About how Mother and Father are going to react to everything. And honestly? About whether I should finally step up and send them packing. It’s high time they stopped interfering with my life and you’ve given me the means to do it.”

Jason’s grin was sharp and all kinds of jagged as his lips peeled away, revealing sharp teeth that no human mouth would ever have. “Where are you from, Tim? I’d like to know exactly whose lives I’m about to disrupt for being assholes to such a treasure.” His fingers tightened, tugging at Tim’s hair before loosening just as swiftly.

Treasure. Jason thought he was a treasure. It wasn’t the typical endearment Tim was used to hearing, but it made sense, coming from a dragon. “My full name is Timothy, Viscount Jackson, son of the Duke of Drake.” He waited for it, as that last part was bound to get a reaction.

The dragon didn’t disappoint. Jason laughed so hard he had to roll onto his back so that the sudden burst of flame he breathed didn’t burn Tim or the bedding. As it was, he left scorch marks on the ceiling. “By the gods,” he gasped, smoke filling the air around them. “That’s just too fucking perfect.”

“I’m glad I amuse you.”

“A Drake sent to kill a dragon,” Jason chortled, still smoking around the mouth. Tim scooted away, his eyes starting to water.

“I’m glad you find it so funny as my mother made it sound like it was my god given duty to slay a dragon and live up to the family name. Not that my father ever killed a dragon either.” The smoke was getting to be a bit much, so Tim got up, hiding a slight wince as his legs protested the movement. “I’ll be outside, getting some fresh air.”

In the main cavern, Tim rummaged through his saddlebags to grab his dirty laundry, figuring he may as well take care of that while he was at it when Jason joined him. “Sorry, I lost control there. I cleared out the room already, so you shouldn’t have issues breathing.” He sounded sheepish, which, coming from such a large man, was rather endearing.

“It’s all right,” Tim said, his lips quirking in a little half smile. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air and I’ll tell you all about my parents.”

“Oh, joy.”

~*~*~*~

#chibinightowl writes #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #JayTim #Dragon!AU

[zombiesbecrazy]

Hit, Strike, Throw

Summary: An afternoon in the cave has Barbara anxious to show off her new and improved escrima training and Dick anxious about something else.

Written for DickBabs Week - Day 7 prompt - sparring

ao3

“Okay, show me what you’ve got.”

“You have to stand up.”

“You’re sitting. I should be sitting.”

“If someone is going to attack me, they aren’t going to do it down at my level out of some sort of skewed sense of honour.” Barbara folded her arms across her chest and stared at him with a look that she hoped was at least a little threatening. “So, stand up.”

Her glare must have been at least somewhat effective because Dick popped to his feet, standing up straight and gave a little salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you really just ma’am me, Grayson? Honestly? Prepare to have your ass handed to you.”  Barbara takes off her glasses and sweater and tosses them on the desk. “Bring it.”

He nods and disappeared into the darkness of the cave behind them, leaving her alone in the center of the training room.

During her time as Batgirl, Barbara had never really taken to weapons training the way that Dick or Jason had.  She had learned the skills and felt comfortable with plenty of weapons in her hands, but hadn’t really found a style that she wanted to permanently adopt. She had found that her strengths had laid more in aikido, krav maga or other martial arts where she could use her opponents’ strength against them instead of brute force, keeping her hands free for holds and grabs. She could still use those defensive moves, but without the use of her legs she needed to find a way to attack back. Just because she wasn’t active in the field any longer didn’t mean she couldn’t be prepared to act if needed; if something were to happen when she was at home or just going about her daily life. Again.

Training with Richard Dragon was vastly different than her training with Bruce had been. Sort of reminded her of the Karate Kid with a wax on, wax off vibe with her learning the moves, but no actual sparring yet. Three weeks in and while she felt that she had made leaps and bounds she was getting a little antsy about not having a chance to test herself. Once Dick had heard that she was primarily practicing escrima, he wanted to see her in action and she jumped at the chance for some actual sparring, hence the afternoon in the cave while Bruce was out of town.

She waited for Dick’s first move, hands folded in her lap, trying to simulate being caught unaware. Trying to pretend that there wasn’t a vigilante lurking in the shadows about to sneak up and attack her. Surprisingly she heard him off to her left before she saw him, a scuff of a foot, and she moves her hands quickly to the armrests and snaps her sticks out of their hiding spots and grips them firm.

Dick rushes at her head on and she swings with a smooth double arc.  He dodges out of the way, but she makes contact on his thigh when she reverses her left stick through its last path while spinning the right back into the neutral pose.

“Nice hit. Good balance of finesse and power.” He raises his arm to block a right swing, but she flips the stick, jabs the handle into his outer elbow and smiles when he grunts at her strike.  “And the ma’am? Totally not an insult. It was the glasses. They make you look all sexy librarian.” He darts around her chair and drops down to speak directly beside her ear in a low tone. “Like if I dog ear a book or don’t whisper, I’d get in so much trouble.”

“You’re trying to distract me.” Barbara brings both arms above her head to try and hit him while he stands behind her, but her contact doesn’t hit her target, and he’s back in front of her in a blink, eyeing her like prey in their cat and mouse game.

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

She’s watching his feet trying to follow his hakbang, his footwork patterns, to figure out where he is going next but not surprisingly he’s being sporadic and not following anything specific that she’s learned so far.  She may be using escrima techniques but he’s all over the place, mixing and matching his styles to try and throw her off. “Really? Librarian? Such a cliché, Hunk Wonder. What’s next?  Cheerleader? I expected better from you.”

“Clichés are classics for a reason, Babs.”

In the end, Barbara didn’t actually take him down, but she thinks that if they were using actual escrima sticks and not the training ones, she would have been able to force to drop him to his knees a couple times.  There had been a nice jab to his ribs that had both winded him and left him with an impressed look, and she was happy to see that her seated position could actually be a bit of an advantage; even someone as skilled as Dick had a hard time landing blows to her torso and the lower center of gravity was more difficult to target than a typical standing foe, but she had to pay closer attention to head shots. With a little more experience and practice, she’d be able to defend herself a lot more than she had thought was going to be possible.

“You’re getting really good. I wasn’t expecting you to use a redonda strike when you got me in the ribs.” Dick says as he rubs his side and Barbara smiles.  It was a nice hit and she knows he’s going to have a bruise from it.

“You were going easy on me.”

“Only a little.”

“An attacker won’t.”

“I wasn’t going to go all out, true, but I am slightly more experienced than the average thug.”

“We are regularly attacked by ninjas. You can’t hold back.”

Dick sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He’s use to her Type A personality requests, wanting to be the best at everything she does.  “We’ll work our way up to ninjas, Babs.  I was going at ‘above average mugger’ level. You’ll get there quick if Dragon is training you.”

“You didn’t even try to knock me out of my chair. I’m working on this awesome floor move where I take you down at the ankles and then give you a black eye before you even know you are on the ground.”

“I… can’t.” Barbara opened her mouth to protest, but Dick held his hand up with his eyes pleading with her to stop.  He looked embarrassed, but didn’t look away. “I know I have to when we’re sparring so you can practice, and you can handle it but… not yet. I’m sorry if that sounds, I don’t know, condescending or ableist or something, but I’m not ready to do that to you. Yet. Please.” He flushed pink. “Give me a little more time to get my mind around it and then I’ll be able to do something like that. Promise.”  

Barbara nodded, because she understood where he was coming from. Dick had been pretty great since her ‘accident’ (she hated calling it that because a Joker attack is never an accident, but it was the simplest word for it), not walking on eggshells and treating her the same as before, but he was overdoing it. He went out of his way not to shove what she couldn’t do in her face, even when it was painfully obvious. He was pushing so hard insisting that she could do anything that she used to do, maybe just a little differently, that he was having problems putting her into a vulnerable position on purpose. He still needed to accept that things had changed; she could accept that he needed more time on this.

She went over to the desk, grabbed their water bottles and her glasses and returned to where Dick was now sitting on the couch near the sparring mats. She handed him the bottles and glasses while transferred herself to sit beside him. It was still a little clumsy, but she was proud of how much better she was getting at it. When she was settled, Dick grinned and carefully placed her glasses on her nose, and then his hand moved to rest in her hair. She winked at him and he groaned in response.

There was a slightly tense silent moment between them and then Dick took a deep breath and started rambling. “It’s not just the glasses. I mean, they are sexy, but I think you’re beautiful all the time. And smart, strong and all round badass. I think about you all the time.” His eyes shift off hers and look at where his fingers are gently playing with her hair. “You know that I’m in love with you, right?” he asked softly.

Barbara had suspected that he had had a crush on her for a while.  There hadn’t been a catalyst that she could remember but there seemed to be a shift in his words and movements around her; like a pulse that she hadn’t noticed before until it was right there in front of her.  

It was a little exciting.

“Dick…”

Interrupting her, he rushed on. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m not expecting you to. I just needed you to know.” He looks back at her again, a little hesitant but with a determination that she finds herself drawn to. “If it’s out in the open, I’m going to be less stressed about whether I’m acting weird around you or not. Now at least you’ll know why I’m acting like a dork.”

“You’ve always been a dork.” She wishes that she could knock her knee against his, like the way she did when they younger and being chastised by Batman for being silly on patrol or when they were watching the sun come up from Brown’s Bridge. Pivot. She leans her shoulder into him a little bit instead and she immediately feels him reciprocate the pressure. It stirs up the butterflies and feels warm deep in her stomach.

“You know what I mean. I feel clumsy and shy about it, but I’ve decided I’m not going to try to hide it either. It is what it is and you deserve to know. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” Dick reached down slowly and tentatively took her hands in his, as if he was worried that she’d pull them away, but of course she wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that.  She squeezed his hands in return and he visibly relaxed, letting out a long breath and the tension flowed from his shoulders.

“I feel it too.” She whispered and a smile kept onto Dick’s face.  Not his patented Robin grin, but a small lopsided one, one that was genuine and sweet and purely Dick Grayson. “This thing, between us. It’s not just you.” Barbara didn’t want to use the L word like he had, even though she knew that’s what she was feeling. That had been building for a long time. “I’m not ready. I’m doing better but this,” she leans forwards touches the rims of her chair beside the couch gently, “this has changed a lot things and I’m still figuring them out. Both about me and about life. I need a little more time.”  

“I can give you that.”

“I’m not going to ask you to wait.”

“You could.  I’d be good with it.”

“But I won’t. That isn’t fair to you. I don’t know how long it will for me to be ready, and I don’t want you to miss out on something great in the case that maybe I’ll never be ready.” The words made her nervous to say out loud, but he was right about not keeping secrets. She couldn’t keep this one from him or herself.  The rational part of her brain told her that she’d be ready to date again someday, probably sooner than she thought, but a voice kept whispering in the head ‘but what if you’re not?’ and she couldn’t ignore that doubt completely.

“I think I might wait awhile anyway.”

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

“Not unless you know how to stop taking my breath away.” His eyes widened and he covered his mouth with his hand and Barbara tried to contain a giggle but was failing pretty badly.  “Wow. That was awful. I’m so embarrassed for me.” Her giggles grew into full grown belly laughs and she hears Dick’s honest laughter joining hers.

“That’s one of the cheesiest things you’ve ever said. And I’ve heard you say things like ‘jumping jillickers’ un-ironically.” Dick’s eyes flick upwards for a second, almost as if he’s rolling them at his younger self. “But I think you’re right. Imagine how much worse that would’ve been if I didn’t know how you felt. You probably would have grappled off into the rafters.”

“Yeah. Would have dropped a smoke bomb first too. You know, for the aesthetic.”

“Such a drama queen.”

“It’s hard to not be overly dramatic when you grow up in a circus and then taken in by a guy who dresses up like a giant bat.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking from the bottles and listening to the sounds of the cave until Barbara nudged him again with her shoulder. “Thanks.” Dick raised an eyebrow. “For the workout. I needed that.” She locked her eyes on his. “And the other part too.”

“No problem. Thanks for not laughing at me and my moon eyes. Much.” Dick pulled out his phone and checked the time. “It’s still early. Want to go upstairs, watch a movie and see me get flustered when I sit too close?”

“Only if there’s popcorn so that our fingers might accidentally touch in the bowl and then we can both awkwardly pretend to ignore it.”

“Deal.”

#dickbabs week #dickbabs week 2017 #barbara gordon #dick grayson #batfic #I love these nerds #sparring

[upontheshelfreviews]

I expected this movie to have a few votes from those who remembered it as kids. I never expected it to win by a landslide. Lesson learned: never underestimate a nostalgic kids’ movie from the ’90s.

Once upon a time, David Kirschner, producer of An American Tail among other things, took his daughters to the New York Public Library. This visit inspired him to write a story about a fantastical adventure that would get kids excited about reading. The result was The Pagemaster, a 1994 box-office bomb that would go on to develop a cult following among children like me who grew up watching it. Animation historians tend to lump The Pagemaster in with the likes of Thumbelina or Quest For Camelot: 90s features that tried to coast off the success of Disney’s Renaissance films yet failed to match their caliber. But actually, trailers for The Pagemaster played in theaters and on home video a good four years before the movie was released…it was still in production for most of that time so the amount of influence Disney had on it is up for debate, but the point remains. I’m willing to bet what played a major part in its delay was the myriad of problems that cropped up during the filmmaking, from David Kirschner suing the Writers Guild of America for not receiving the sole story credit he felt was owed, to the plot being rewritten in the middle of the animation process, which is never a good thing. I’ve also heard stories about Macaulay Culkin being a diva on set, but knowing what we know now about his abusive father explains a lot so I’m not holding that against him.

And here’s another fun fact I dug up while doing my research: apparently Stephen King of all people wrote the treatment for The Pagemaster, which certainly explains the film’s more horrific elements. Does this means this movie is technically part of the King multiverse? I can see Richard hanging out with The Losers Club on weekends and trying to avoid killer clowns and langoliers in his spare time.

Though it was released under the 20th Century Fox banner, The Pagemaster was the first of only two animated films created by Turner Feature Animation, an off-shoot of Hanna-Barbera founded by media mogul Ted Turner. In hindsight, it’s not surprising that Turner had a hand in this children’s flick with an educational message. Let’s not forget the last animated project he invested himself in was all about teaching kids environmentalism in the cheesiest way possible.

But unlike Captain Planet, does The Pagemaster hold up after all these years? Will it get kids sucked into the magic of reading? And how long can I go without forcing in a Home Alone reference? Read on and find out.

The opening credits fade in over clouds swirling into foreshadowing images while the stirring main theme by James Horner plays. Say what you want about this movie, Horner’s score emerges smelling like a rose, easily the best thing to come from this film. Disney’s even used it for some of their trailers. Also, when you take the bulk of the cast into consideration, it’s astonishingly appropriate that the man who scored The Wrath of Kahn provided the soundtrack for this feature.

The ominous call-forward clouds are part of a nightmare that our protagonist, a typical 90s nerd named Richard Tyler (Macaulay Culkin) startles awake from. He crawls out of bed and overhears his parents (Ed Begley Jr. and Mel Harris) discussing their son’s neuroses. See, it’s not enough that Richard is a nerd; he’s also afraid of everything that casts a shadow. His room is plastered with safety precautions, he studies all manner of deathly statistics to the point where he can recite them at the drop of a hat and is considered a general buzzkill by all who know him, especially his father. This is where we come to our first bump in the road, and it’s not just that Richard acts in a way that no kid would, not even scaredy-cat kids like Chuckie Finster: it’s the moral they’re trying to set up.

The Pagemaster’s original screenplay was about a boy who didn’t like reading and learned to love it, but there were many rewrites during production that altered it so it’s about Richard learning to overcome his fears through the power of books. That makes the point rather redundant – why teach someone who’s already a bookworm to love books? I argue that it’s about snapping Richard out of his obsession over statistics and panic-inducing facts that are holding him back from living a fulfilling life, and finding courage and meaning from beloved stories instead. Not a terrible lesson, but one that could have been communicated better. In fact, such a moral would be much more suited for today; with the constant stream of news updates through the internet leading to anxiety over everything, turning away from devices for a while and finding solace through well-written fiction is a decent message. And I’m not saying that kids today shouldn’t be aware of big issues our planet faces – look at Greta Thunberg – but if you’re suffering from borderline pantophobia, then maybe seeking some escapism through print (and also finding a therapist) is a good place to start.

Mr. Tyler is building his son a treehouse in order to help him get over his fear of heights. Richard, of course, refuses to have anything to do with it and states some statistics about ladders and household accidents. He then unwittingly hits his dad in the head with a bucket which causes him to have an accident and fall out of the treehouse, thus proving his point. Honestly, I’d have more respect for Richard if he did it on purpose just to validate himself. What a grade-A troll he’d make.

Eager to get his son out of his hair, Mr. Tyler tasks him with picking up some nails from the hardware store. Richard takes his bike, both covered in so much superfluous safety gear that he looks like he’s ready to go policing in a sci-fi dystopia.

“I am THE LAW!”

And yes, you read that credit correctly. Joe Johnston, director of The Rocketeer and the first Captain America movie directed the live-action segments of The Pagemaster. From what I’ve gathered, he’s not too pleased to have his name attached to this project. I suppose he’s upset that he couldn’t have his credit changed to Alan Smithee.

On his way into town, Richard passes some kids riding their bikes off a construction ramp. They try to goad him into joining them and call him chicken when he doesn’t, just in case you didn’t catch what his character arc will be. Richard continues forward, and if you think Maurice’s trip to the fair went south in Beauty and the Beast, then you haven’t watched this movie. Lightning strikes the power lines, he’s forced through a tunnel where the lights explode in succession after him, and he gets lost in a dark, creepy park during a storm. I’m almost tempted to say the movie is trying to kill him.

Richard crashes his bike in front of the most ominous library outside of a Ghostbusters movie and seeks shelter there. The only person inside is eccentric old librarian Mr. Dewey, played by Christopher Lloyd. He constantly interrupts Richard to guess what kind of book he thinks he’s looking for all while getting very dramatic and dangerously close to the young boy. I laugh at it because of how over-the-top Lloyd’s acting is, but uncomfortably so. As a kid, I thought he was being very wise and passionate about the stories he looks after, but as an adult, it’s hard not to look at this scene and call stranger danger on it.

Mr. Dewey directs Richard to a phone where he can call his parents, gives him a library card if he feels like checking a book out, and casually points out the big green exit sign should he decide to leave. Richard wanders through the library until he comes across an awesome-looking mural in the rotunda depicting scenes from Moby Dick, Treasure Island, Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde…umm, Dragonslayer, I guess, and a wizard who bears more than a passing resemblance to Mr. Dewey.

This is why we need more funding in our public libraries, folks.

Richard slips on the wet floor and knocks himself out. When he comes to, paint from the mural gushes to the floor, turns into a dragon-like blob and chases him through the library, turning anything it touches turns into a painted background. The blending of computer and traditional animation for the dragon is surprisingly excellent. It’s plain to see that a lot of work went into this one creature. When I can’t tell where the hand-drawn animation begins or ends, that’s a good sign.

Ultimately the dragon catches Richard and transforms him into an animated character – no, not a character, an illustration, says someone from the shadows. That someone is the master of the animated literary realm Richard’s been transported to, keeper of the books and guardian of the written word, The Pagemaster (also voiced by Lloyd).

Do you think he trims his beard by cutting it or by stitching it up and binding it with leather and glue?

This animated version of the library is where all the stories ever written call home (though Horner’s score is what really sells the wonder of the moment). Here, books are, quite literally, transports to another world. Open a book and characters, creatures and objects from that story emerge from them. The Pagemaster demonstrates this by summoning a fairytale giant and the Argo from Jason and the Argonauts just for show. Richard’s more interested in finding his way home and the Pagemaster tells him that he must pass three tests in order to reach the Exit. He sends him off on his quest with a word of advice: when in doubt, look to the books.

Richard is swept up on a book cart and crashes into his first comic relief sidekick for the evening, Adventure, a cantankerous sentient book who acts like a pirate and is played by Sir Patrick Stewart. Stewart is one of the finest actors of the stage and screen and a damn good human being (seriously, look up his speeches about domestic violence) but I’ve noticed that when it comes to animated films, he tends to skew towards the…not so good ones. Not only did he turn down roles in Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, but for every Prince of Egypt, there’s a Chicken Little, Gnomeo and Juliet, Legends of Oz: Dorothy’s Return and Emoji Movie that proudly boasts his name. It’s mind-boggling and frustrating to hear such talent reduced to voicing shit.

Not hyperbole.

The best thing I can say about Adventure is that at least Stewart sounds like he’s having fun playing him. I should know, getting paid to talk like a pirate is the best job ever.

Adventure changes his tune when he sees Richard’s library card and offers to help the boy if he checks him out from the library. He tells Richard to go up a ladder to get their bearings, but Richard refuses on account of his acrophobia and prattles off some of those annoying statistics. Adventure tries to change his mind about climbing by opening 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and unleashing the giant squid, which is like helping someone overcome their fear of flying by shooting them out of a cannon.

The squid throws Richard in the air but he’s rescued by another living book, Fantasy (Whoopi Goldberg). Fantasy subverts the warm fairy godmother stereotype she’s modeled after with her frequent bouts of sarcasm and stubbornness; whereas Stewart is playing a role, Whoopi is pretty much playing herself. Under normal circumstances, Fantasy would use her magic to poof Richard to the Exit, but since she’s outside of her section her powers are considerably weakened. Regardless, she also promises to help Richard if he takes her home with him. Fantasy and Adventure butt heads over who’s going to be second banana to our protagonist. Adventure insists he’s the only one who knows where they’re headed and gets Richard to open up The Hound of Baskervilles, with predictable results.

The Hound chases the trio until they jump through a bookcase into the horror section, full of spooky graveyards and assorted Halloween detritus. The Exit Sign appears through the fog but leads them to a massive and obviously haunted mansion that they must pass through in order to proceed. Richard rings the bell, which knocks the final member of the team, Horror (Frank Welker), into his arms. Horror’s my favorite of the bunch, at least he would be if I had to pick one. For one thing, with all the fairly big names in the cast, it’s refreshing to hear a veteran voice actor playing one of the lead roles. Horror’s the least like the genre he represents, a sweet dimwit who just wants some friends. I don’t know, maybe I just have a soft spot for lonely ugly-cute marshmallow characters.

Speaking of, the designs for the books aren’t exactly appealing with large faces plastered right on their spines and little arms and legs sticking out of their lumbering square bodies. Horror’s look, however, comes the closest to working since he’s modeled after Quasimodo and isn’t supposed to be Mr. Universe if you catch my drift. He even gets some moments of good wild animation, especially when he’s “describing” what frightens him.

But one line, one solitary bit of dialogue has always stuck with me: “Horror always has sad endings”. It’s a shockingly deep statement that sums up the tragedy of his situation, and also why I’ve never been that big on the genre. The monster’s dead, everyone’s safe, you think it’s all ok, then BOOM. It pops up again, slaughters every character you’ve grown to care for and sets up a neverending chain of watered-down sequels and reboots.

Fantasy assures Horror her world is a place of happy endings, and Richard allows him to come along for the ride. The group ventures into the mansion, which looks perfect as far as haunted houses go. It’s caught somewhere between traditional Gothic and German Expressionism with its impossibly high ceilings, winding staircases, cobwebbed cracks in the walls and looming shadows. The team then meets the mansion’s owner, Dr. Henry Jekyll, played by…Leonard Nimoy?!

Fascinating.

It goes without saying that Nimoy is magnetic as both Jekyll and his wicked counterpart. He encapsulates the madness and depravity of the latter with a cackle and a single line, and he plays the former with a warm air of wisdom and sophistication (the fact that he serves his Hyde potion in a martini glass should clue you in on that trait). It makes me wish we got to see Nimoy play Jekyll and Hyde in a more straightforward adaptation before he passed away.

Though maybe he already did…

Adventure is ready to help himself to some of Jekyll’s cocktail but Horror knocks it out of his hands and the spill burns a hole through the floor.

So the Hyde formula’s secret ingredient is xenomorph blood. Who knew?

Richard and the gang are too late to stop Jekyll from drinking his concoction and he undergoes a harrowing transformation into his evil alter-ego, Edward Hyde. And hoo boy, did this scene reopen a can of worms. Imagine you’re a five-year-old enjoying this fun little animated escapade of talking books and magic and then this gets all up in your face.

“My name…is…”

“…Mister HYYYYYYYDE!!!!!”

All this to say even after all these years, Mr. Hyde still kind of puts me on edge. I remember my dad taught me how to use the fast-forward button on the VCR just so I could rush through this part. I even wished for and made up a kind of video player where you could skip entire scenes for the sole purpose of avoiding Hyde’s reveal.

I’m still waiting on my royalties.

Hyde attacks the group but Horror accidentally saves them by dropping a chandelier on him.

Hey, wrong story!

Horror gets tangled up in the chains and is about to be pulled through the floor along with Hyde. Fantasy begs Richard to save him but he’s too scared to. He doesn’t even try to weasel out of it by saying he has bone spurs or some other lame excuse, he just stands there and shrugs as one of his friends is about to die. Our hero, ladies and gentlemen. I know Richard’s supposed to learn courage over the course of the movie but not even attempting to try is pretty low. It’s not like there’s any danger in the situation or a possibility that Hyde will pop back up again; the freak’s too busy dragging Horror down, laughing maniacally in the dark as he anticipates pulling one helpless victim to their doom along with him.

Can’t sleep, Hyde will eat me…

Anyway, Fantasy has enough and rescues Horror herself. As for Hyde, he goes down the hole never to be seen again.

Now that I’m more familiar with the stories featured in this movie more so than when it was released, seeing them come and go rather quickly without diving into their essence is disappointing…but perhaps that was intentional. Maybe by leaving these sequences fairly open-ended and giving us the most basic of recaps, the movie is encouraging kids to check out the books themselves and come to their own conclusions about how and why these are timeless, fascinating tales.

Or at the very least, they could pick up an illustrated abridged version. Try getting a six-year-old to sit through the complete Moby Dick.

You’re a prodigy, Matilda! You don’t count!

After fleeing Hyde, Richard and the gang run into some possessed books – in other words, they’re haunted by ghost stories.

They evade the spirited tomes and had things worked out differently, they would have immediately had a perilous encounter with another famous literary horror character, Frankenstein’s monster. Poor Frankie M. made it to the poster and a few promotional picture books but not the final film. It’s not clear why he was cut; maybe the director felt the sequence was running long or he got worried the kids watching this would be too scared by this point. Frankly, anything that comes after Hyde pales in comparison. You could throw the worst of Lovecraft our way and it still wouldn’t be half as terrifying as he was.

The team makes it outside, but are trapped on a high vine-covered wall. Richard is too scared to climb down until the Pagemaster possesses a gargoyle to give some on-the-nose words of encouragement.

Careful, Richard. The last time I saw a gargoyle like that, it didn’t end well for the person grabbing it.

Richard Tarzans his ways to safety, and everyone celebrates their escape. The sun rises, clearing the way to the ever-elusive Exit Sign and Adventure’s home turf, a beach stretching into the open sea. Out on the ocean, they come across the crew of the Pequod. They’re searching for the white whale Moby Dick at the behest of Captain Ahab, voiced by George Hearn.

Hmm, George Hearn playing an overly dramatic psychopath hellbent on bloody vengeance? Can’t imagine where they got that casting idea from.

Ahab spies his quarry off the port bow and the color scheme dramatically shifts into a fiery red while the mad captain’s eyes glow and he turns into a Frank Miller drawing.

Lift your spearhead high, Ahab! Hear its singing edge!

I don’t know why they went with this abrupt change in hue, but frankly my dear I don’t give a damn. It’s a visual representation of Ahab’s unhinged thirst for violence teetering on demonic possession that just looks really cool. Also, like Nimoy before him, Hearn makes the most of his screen time, giving a stirring rendition of some of Ahab’s immortal lines.

…Then Moby Dick pounces on top of him and kills him and his crew instantly.

But Moby’s not done dicking around yet and he smashes Richard’s boat too. Richard and Adventure latch on to some driftwood, but it looks like Fantasy and Horror didn’t make it and there are sharks closing in.

The good news: they’re quickly rescued.

The bad news: they’re taken prisoner aboard the Hispaniola which is under the command of Long John Silver (Jim Cummings) and his crew of cutthroat pirates.

Well, calling them cutthroat is generous. The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything are more threatening than these guys.

With catlike tread, upon our foe we steal!

Also, one of the pirates is voiced by Robert Picardo and…do you think David Kirschner just wanted to make one big Star Trek crossover movie but the execs shot it down so he turned it into this cute family flick starring cast members from almost every iteration of the franchise? Like, Picard and Guinan are banished to another dimension inspired by various Holodeck fantasies thanks to a resurrected omniscient Commander Kurge (just another one of Q’s little tests for humanity) and are tasked with protecting a young boy, the son of Henry Starling, who’s the key to defeating him as they find their way back home. They wind up in a desolate corner of the universe where they meet Spock, who’s been working on a top-secret formula that will supposedly make human urges easier to differentiate in important decision-making. But plot twist! It’s really Evil Spock the whole time, and his formula will purge all good from those who consume it! They escape, desperate to warn this dimension’s Federation of Evil Spock’s plan but run into an insane Dr. Berel and are later captured by The Doctor, who has rebelled from his programming and taken up piracy along with a renegade band of Romulans. I’m no Star Trek aficionado, but this is something I’d like to see!

Silver takes away Richard’s library card and forces him and Adventure to join his treasure hunt on (where else?) Treasure Island. But like in the story this is based on, the pirates are enraged to learn that the treasure has already been looted and they mutiny against Silver. Before things get ugly, Fantasy and Horror arrive to save their friends. It turns out they didn’t drown after all due to Horror discovering his hump is hollow and they floated to shore on it.

Then there’s a fight scene where Horror and Fantasy take out the pirates using goofy slapstick. It isn’t too bad, but it doesn’t touch Muppet Treasure Island in comedy. Richard also stands up to Silver and gets him to back off, which earns the old sea dog’s respect. This makes this sequence the most faithful of all the quick adaptations we’ve seen thus far, essentially turning Richard into a stand-in for Jim Hawkins and having him go through an abridged version of his arc. It would have resonated more, however, if we spent more time with the plot and characters of this story, so we’d really feel something when Richard asserts himself. The Pagemaster is a scant seventy-five minutes, but with all the possibilities for expanding upon these different novels in this format with the kind of story they’re trying to tell, this could be a ninety-minute film at the very least. The movie even teases this with some cleverly woven-in shoutouts to other famous works, like Edgar Allen Poe’s Raven appearing in the haunted house, or Richard staggering under an oversized copy of Atlas Shrugged. I wish we could see those tales as part of the plot proper, but they make this literature-based world feel more all-encompassing and less like they’re merely covering the basics, for which I’m grateful for.

Adventure, who got sidelined at the start of the fight and is miffed about missing the action, storms off on his own. This is where the movie sidelines the main plot for a substandard “jerk with a heart of gold learns not to be a jerk to others” subplot. Horror tries to cheer up Adventure and admits he idolizes him, but Adventure bullies and scares him away. Shortly after, Adventure finds Richard’s library card washed up on the beach and returns it, but Fantasy forces him to look for Horror and apologize before they hit the road. He finds him being tied down by the Lilliputians from Gulliver’s Travels. Now Gulliver’s Travels could technically be classified as an adventure story, but really it’s a witty satire in the guise of an adventure. I wonder what we could have gotten if the movie explored other stories that mashed up the genres featured here with ones like mystery or sci-fi or drama. I want to see how Sherlock Holmes, Tom Sawyer, Captain Nemo, and Lizzie Bennett would react to this kid from the future and his three sentient books running around their stories! Or what about ones where the elements of fantasy, horror, and adventure overlap each other? Think about it, A Christmas Carol is both horror and fantasy, The Princess Bride is fantasy and adventure, The Call of Cthulu, A Wrinkle in Time and anything by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett combine all three. I’m sorry I keep going off on these tangents, but the concepts this film presents deserve more exploration than what we’re given.

Adventure rescues Horror and the two reconcile. Fantasy’s wand lights up, indicating that they’re getting closer to her territory and the Exit. Just to be sure she’s got her magic back, she tests it out by turning Adventure into –

Your very confusing nightmares for the next month, ladies and gentlemen.

Everyone traipses through the jungle into the fantasy section, which goes a bit beyond your average picture book in terms of design. Though the movie’s backgrounds and colors are a bit murky, each world has a distinct visual style. The fantasy realm is like if Arthur Rackham tangoed with Eyvind Earle. It’s not Sleeping Beauty levels of gorgeousness, though it’s close.  But once again, the magic of this scene comes from the music. Instead of more instrumental backing, however, we get the movie’s main tune, “Whatever You Imagine”.

I unironically love this song. I’ve said before I’m a sucker for 90s pop ballads and this one is no exception. It’s all about using the power of imagination to follow your dreams and shape the world into a better place, and is complemented by the visuals: some fairies that are rotoscoped in a way that they look like living embodiments of the electricity balls you find at Spencer’s appear and dance on Richard’s palm. There’s a second decent pop song in a similar vein over the end credits, “Dream Away” sung by Lisa Stanfield and Babyface, but “Whatever You Imagine” is my favorite of the two.

Yet, nice as this part is, it’s difficult to overlook the shortcomings. You thought the horror and adventure parts of the movie were rushed? What little we see of the fantasy section is limited to a minute and a half of the song before hurtling into the climax. On top of that, the only representations of fantasy here apart from the fairies are nursery rhymes (with Mother Goose and Humpty Dumpty making five-second cameos), generic familiar fairy tales (most of which, including Rapunzel and Cinderella, also joined Frankenstein’s Monster on the cutting room floor), a faun that looks like it was kidnapped from Fantasia, and a yellow brick road as a shout-out to The Wizard of Oz. I get this was a few years before Harry Potter revolutionized the genre, but no love for Lord of the Rings? No Peter Pan? No Narnia? No Earthsea? No Discworld? Not even Dr. Seuss? And if it’s because they’re sticking with public domain works then they really dropped the ball. I’ve got five words for you: King Arthur, Lord Dunsany, ETA Hoffman, George MacDonald, and any culture’s ancient mythology.

Then again, perhaps it’s for the best that the more recognizable fantasies stay out of this feature. Look at our heroes and tell me they’d survive a minute in A Song of Ice and Fire.

Richard spies the Exit on top of a mountain, but Adventure wanders into a “cave” and accidentally awakens the final boss: a monstrous fire-breathing dragon.

“Now you shall deal with me, O Prints, and all the powers of Hell!”

Fantasy summons a magic carpet ripped from her own pages to save Richard and fly them all to the Exit. But the carpet gets singed and crashes on the mountainside, scattering our heroes and causing Fantasy to lose her wand. Richard makes it to the summit but he realizes that in his haste he’s left his book club behind. Adventure decides to face the dragon alone to give Horror and Fantasy time to escape, and this is where we get the culmination of what’s supposed to be Adventure and Fantasy’s belligerent romantic tension throughout the movie and the one truly funny line of dialogue.

Unsurprisingly, the dragon roasts Adventure but he just gets covered in ash and acts like he got bopped on the head instead of burning up like a real book would. This is the fantasy section and a kid’s cartoon on top of that, I’m not gonna argue about the logic. Richard finally finds the courage to go save his friends, but first, he takes a sword, shield, and helmet from the crumbling skeleton of a dead knight.

For his sake, he’d better wash his hands fifty times after this.

Wait, that red cross on the shield….oh my god, it’s the dragon and knight from The Faerie Queen!!

All right, let me explain what this means and why it’s a big deal. The Faerie Queen is one of the most revered examples of classic fantasy literature, a collection of six epic poems detailing the adventures of King Arthur expy Prince Arthur aiding knights representing the Twelve Private Virtues on his journey to rescue and marry the titular fairy queen Gloriana. The story of the Red Cross Knight is about Arthur helping said knight fight a dragon to save his lady love. More importantly, it’s about the knight learning to overcome his insecurities while being waylaid by outside forces symbolizing negative influences and slay the monster himself. It’s not hard to see the surface parallels in his adventure and Richard’s. So, point to the movie for subtly including a well-known tale and weaving it into the main plot. I take back what I said about it overlooking the obvious public domain fantasies.

Richard charges in ready to kick some reptilian butt. Unfortunately, he manages to do an even worse job confronting the dragon than Jon Snow and it eats him in one bite. But our hero merely gets the Jonas treatment and winds up trapped inside the dragon’s stomach, which conveniently holds a number of undigested fantasy books. I guess the dragon must be a voracious reader.

Recalling The Pagemaster’s advice, Richard searches through the books to find something that can help him escape. In a bit of on-the-fly ingenuity, he unleashes the titular plant from Jack and the Beanstalk. He rides the plant up and out of the dragon’s throat, grabs his buddies and carries them to the mountaintop where the gates of the Exit are now open. Once inside, they find a very familiar face.

“I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL SOUNDTRACK! PAY NO ATTENTION THAT COMPOSER BEHIND THE CURTAIN!”

No, of course not. Instead, the Pagemaster appears to greet them. It turns out he’s been guiding Richard through his perils the whole time. Richard is not unreasonably pissed that the seemingly wise and benevolent sage took the Glinda approach of leading him into danger just to teach him a lesson. The small tirade he goes on is honestly refreshing. You don’t see many heroes call out the mentor figure on their trickery.

But all implications aside, the Pagemaster brings up an important point: what would have changed for Richard if he was whisked home just like that? Without the chance to grow, he would have stayed the same cowardly, friendless boy. To back this up, the villains Richard faced appear in the cyclone and proudly remind him of his triumphs. He made the right choices in the face of evil. He looked danger in the eye and kept moving forward. He stood up to others without hesitating. Even the dragon returns to salute Richard in its own way. There’s something rather awe-inspiring about these great literary characters returning to congratulate him for facing their challenges. It might not seem like much at face value: what practical use would there be in overcoming fears of things you’d never come across in the real world like pirates or dragons?

The thing is, most literary characters aren’t just there to move the plot from Point A to Point B, but are also a conduit for symbolizing qualities both evil and benign that enhance their stories. In The Pagemaster, as well as in their own tales, Jekyll and Hyde, Ahab, and Silver represent varying levels of obsession and fear. The dragon is especially notable for the latter in this regard since it is the culmination of Richard’s fears and how he views the world as a terrifying, dangerous place beyond his control. It’s the last thing that appears in the opening credits before he wakes up from his nightmare, and is also the form the paint blob takes when chasing him. The dragon was even supposed to appear continuously throughout the film, following Richard and his friends causing trouble for them. That aspect was cut from the final feature, though it left some conspicuous plot holes, namely how Adventure apparently lost his sword somewhere offscreen then finds it in the dragon’s mouth before he wakes it. The most important thing to take away from this, however, is that Richard doesn’t slay the dragon but instead finds a way to overcome it by moving past it, showing how he’s accepted there are things he can’t always control or avoid and chooses instead to move past his fears. If I may borrow some words Neil Gaiman often attributed to G.K. Chesterton, we don’t read fairytales to learn that dragons exist, but to learn that dragons can be beaten.

Richard, having realized how much he’s grown from his adventures, is finally ready to return to the real world. The Pagemaster sends him back along with the books, who turn into ordinary volumes. Richard wakes up on the library floor with Mr. Dewey standing over him in a totally-not-awkward-at-all manner. He remembers his promise to check out the books, but Mr. Dewey takes back Horror and tells him he can only take two home.

Wait, two books?! Only two?? The last time I went to my local library, they let me check out ten! I’m sure the rules are different depending on each district, but I’d say any self-respecting library that would want to maintain a child’s interest in reading would let them borrow a minimum of three books at a time. This seems like a strange last-minute obstacle that serves no real purpose other than making Mr. Dewey look inexplicably pedantic.

Anyway, Mr. Dewey can tell Richard’s upset that he can’t keep his promise to Horror and allows him to take all the books with him just this once. Richard passes by the ramp from the start of the film and makes the jump on his own, proving that he really has changed. It would have been more cathartic if the bullies from before were there to see it, but I suppose the writers felt this had to be something Richard would do more for himself than for anyone else. And I like how once he sticks that landing and does a positive spin on his dour catchphrase, the street lamps knocked out from the storm all light up again, showing all’s right with the world. Later, Richard’s parents come home after searching for their son all night and find him asleep in the treehouse, no longer afraid of anything.

Well, he’s still scared of Old Man Marley, but he’s taking it one step at a time.

Mr. and Mrs. Tyler let him stay up there, and once they’re gone, Horror, Adventure and Fantasy come to life once again as animated shadows on the wall and revel in their happy ending.

And that was The Pagemaster. As a young kid, I adored it. Nowadays it’s a bit of a guilty pleasure for me. It’s technically not a good movie, but it’s brimming with creative ideas, a few moments of cleverness, some nice visuals, has a good voice cast, an excellent score, and it evokes plenty of nostalgia. I just can’t bring myself to hate it. I also saw a lot of my younger self in Richard, a lit nerd prone to anxiety who found comfort and friendship in the books we traversed through and fantasized about having similar adventures. That, I think, is what really drew me into The Pagemaster back in the day. Plus, as far as an animated children’s film about a geeky kid going into classic tales with a talking book goes, it could have been much, much worse.

No. Just…no.

In case you’re still wondering if I thought this film succeeded in its message, well, it did make me want to read more, but I already loved reading when I was a child so that might render the point moot. I admire the idea of not laying out everything that happens in each story so as to get kids invested, but that being said the segments could use some beefing up to maintain interest and flesh out the characters more. Frankly, I think the whole concept of The Pagemaster would work much better as an animated series than as a movie. Maybe that was what Turner Animation was going for; if the film was more successful, they could create a spinoff show where the characters explore a new story each week that ties into some kind problem Richard is facing. Think Reading Rainbow meets Tales From the Book of Virtue. Now that Disney technically owns this movie, I’d love to see them develop something like this. Their track record with animated television has been stellar since Gravity Falls. Put this project in the right hands and they’d have another hit.

You know what? Call me out on it all you want, but The Pagemaster gets a three out of five. Watch it if you’re curious or just feeling nostalgic, and be sure to pick up a good book afterward.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this review, please consider supporting me on Patreon. Patreon supporters receive great perks such as extra votes for movie reviews, requests, early sneak-peeks and more. Special thanks to Amelia Jones, Gordhan Rajani and Sam Minden for their contributions, especially at this time.

Considering the theme of this review and the timing of its release, I’d like to leave you with a bit of a positive endorsement: If you’re like me and you’re looking for something to do while in quarantine, especially since all the libraries are closed where I am, I recommend Project Gutenberg and LibriVox. Both offer ways to enjoy beloved pieces of great literature that are largely in the public domain and discover fascinating obscure ones too, and it is completely free. No accounts to sign up for, no monthly payments, just years of classic books online only a click away. I listen to many of them while working or if I need to relax. I hope it’ll help take your mind off of any fears or stress, and I’ll see you tomorrow when movie voting recommences.

Screengrabs courtesy of animationscreencaps.com

April Review: The Pagemaster (1994) I expected this movie to have a few votes from those who remembered it as kids. I never expected it to win by a landslide.

#1990&039;s #20th century fox #2D animation #90&039;s #90s movie #adventure #animated #animated feature #animated movie #animated movie review #animation #animators #book #books #captain ahab #cartoon review #christopher lloyd #classic literature #david kirschner #dr. jekyll #dream away #edward hyde #fairies #fairy tale #Fantasy #film #film review #frank welker #frankenstein #george hearn

[ageeksnerdyworld]

Life of the Party

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, College Professor, Random College Students

Word Count: 3,340

Trigger Warning: Swearing. Drinking. Violence. Blood/Blood Mention. Party Scene. Fight Scenes. (Well, kinda sorta on those last two...)

A/N: Continuing with that AU of college-age Damian. This one takes place before to the first one while Damian is freshman. I’m not really working with any sort of chronical ordered plot with this AU. Just writing one-shots from the random ideas that pop into my head. In hindsight this probably could’ve worked better with a different villain but I digress. Also, I apologize in advance for the messed up tenses; I’ve never been good at keeping them the same. English translations are at the very bottom.

Summary: While attending his first semester at Yale University Damian leaves class, one day, after a long and rather pointless lecture. But, as he leaves, he accidently runs into another student. After talking to each other for a while the other student seems to take a liking to Damian. But Damian is very suspicious of his new colleague. Then the young man invites Damian to the only thing life never trained him for; a college frat party.

XXXXX

He sat in the very back row of the lecture hall. Usually he would sit in one of the front rows, but, today another student sat in his seat. It wasn’t his seat necessarily since they did not have assigned seating but it was definitely his seat. He had sat in the same exact spot from the very beginning of the semester.

He swears muttering under his breath; “.وخزة. الكل”

He stares at the back of the redhead man’s head; mentally burning a hole in the guy’s curly head of hair. He didn’t know the guy’s name but he knew several things about him from just a half of a semester of sharing a classroom. Last name was Janus, thought he was the center of the universe and he had the bad habit of chewing on his pen caps. Above all he knew that he hated the man and found him rather annoying. Despite all of this there was still something familiar about the young man but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“And that’s a wrap for today, folks,” the professor said.

He let out a sigh of relief and packed up his books. As he walked out of the lecture hall he made two-second eye contact with his English professor. The professor was a rather elderly man with wispy white hair, faded blue eyes and a wrinkled face. The man was definitely senile and would go off on tangents in the middle of his lectures. He made it his personal mission to get the man fired, but, tenured professors don’t get fired for anything less than sexual assault. And there was no way in hell that he would do what was required to accuse the man of such an act. So he had to continue suffering until the semester ended.

Lost in thought he mindlessly walks out the door, and into the hall, and runs straight into the redhead.

“Colin, I…”

Damian’s apology stopped short when the redhead turned around with a shocked look on his face. His skin was somewhat pale and his face was thin. Not the thin chiseled look but the complete opposite; an almost a sickly thin. Eyes were the color of the sea on a stormy night; an unnerving dark blue. A few curls fell onto his forehead and he brushed them off with a hand. With that sweeping motion Damian noticed that the roots of Janus’, seemingly ginger, hair were actually a very dark black.

“My name isn’t Colin.”

اللغة

Realizing his mistake he apologizes for the mix-up. Explains that he thought the man in front of him was someone else he knew. Then remembering his manners he extends a hand and introduces himself.

“Deepest apologies for running into you; I was distracted. Damian Wayne.”

“The name’s Janus. Jude Janus,” the fake redhead says as he shakes the offered hand. After letting go the two young men begin to walk together and smack talk their professors. Soon they decide to make their way to the dining hall for a quick bite to eat. Jude spoke with that stereotypical douche bag rich guy voice at first, but, as soon as they were alone he dropped the inflection.

“You can drop your act, too,” he says with a knowing smile.

Damian shoots him a confused look; “I do not understand what you mean. I am not acting.”

Jude raises an eyebrow; “But, the way you’re talking? It’s like you’re a fucking book or something. That can’t be how you really talk; it has to be a front.”

“English is not my first language.”

“Oh, I see. That makes sense. ... You’re really a Wayne, then, huh?"

“Of course I am,” Damian says with a scoff.

Jude explained that he was the heir to a cosmetics company that his great-grandfather started in World War II; or something like that. He wasn’t interested in family history enough to get the full story. His interests were more along the lines of lacrosse, girls and good times. When they reached the dining hall they entered together and sat at the same table after getting their food.

As they eat Jude asks Damian to tell him all about life as a Wayne. But Damian was a lot smarter than that so he changed the conversation to the number one thing on Jude’s list of interests. Specifically about the first time he played the game. His dark eyes light up with excitement and he begins a very long tangent of his first time.

Halfway through their conversation Jude invites Damian to a party.

Something isn’t right here, he thinks. Something isn’t right at all.

But, instead of politely denying his new acquaintance’s request, he smiles and agrees to attend.

XXXX

He didn’t know what to do. Jude invited him to a party at his fraternity house later that night. Sigma Alpha Epsilon was in hot water after recent events when a student claimed the fraternity declined entrance to black women. Everything surrounding the fraternity was surrounding that tidbit of news. But that was the least of Damian’s problems.

He sends a text to the first person whose name popped into his head and he hoped that they would actually help him out.

Whaddya need Half-Pint?

An acquaintance invited me to a party at his fraternity.

Oh? You met someone? Is he tall, dark and handsome? The man of your dreams? Also for future reference, Short Stop, they're called frats.

This is serious, Todd! And besides you know that I do not like people in that way.

Jeez, learn how to take a joke.

But, I seriously believe that he may have ulterior motives.

Treat the party like any other mission, then, McNuggets.

How many times do I have to tell you to stop mocking my height?

Well, you’re wasting your time and mine, Munchkin-Man, cos I ain’t stopping.

!الأم لحنة

That was very rude of you to say, Small Fry.

Don’t get your panties in a bunch.

Just go to the party and tail the guy. Figure out what he’s really up to and nab him; easy as pie.

Jason sends him the three separate text messages; one after another. Damian sighs and rolls his eyes after reading the last one. He begins to pace his dorm as he types his response.

That’s easy for you to say, Todd. I’ve never done anything like this. This is nothing like a gala.

You got that right. ;)

I do not understand the purpose of your winking face, Todd. Back to the matter at hand. What am I even supposed to wear to an event like this?

Well, what kind of party is it?

Costume. Costumes that represent your true self, according to the host himself.

I got it!

Jason rapidly texts Damian back with exactly what costume he should wear to the party. When he reads the text his green eyes go wide with shock. He immediately texts back a firm refusal. But then Jason texts him back a chicken emoji followed by a question mark. When Damian doesn’t respond he sends three more.

Just trust me and wear the costume.

Damian stops his pacing and looks towards his bed. A small black duffle bag sits on the floor underneath it; completely hidden from view. He bends down and pulls the bag out but does not open it. As he stares at it he quickly texts Jason back before he can send more mocking chicken emojis.

What if someone puts two and two together? What am I supposed to do then, Todd?

Wow, didn’t think you’d give college kids that much credit.

They’re Yale students, Todd. Even the most moronic student in attendance is a million times more intelligent than you are.

Trust me.

XXXXX

Damian nervously walks up the steps to Sigma Alpha Epsilon. He’s going into completely uncharted territory by going to this party, but, he needs to do it. This Jude Janus person is not at all who he is claiming to be. Everything about him was fake; from his hair, to his voice, right down to his “this is the real me” attitude. When he approaches the door he recites the pass phrase to the meathead student acting as bouncer.

“Most people hide behind masks; I do not.”

The meathead nods once and opens one half of the large wooden double doors.

The frat house is filled with students in costume. Looking around he sees that many of the people took the criteria seriously and wore outfits that represent their true selves. And then, just like every costume party, there were the young women and men who wore costumes that barely passed for articles of clothing. As Damian walks through the house, compliments are shouted out to him from the drunken partygoers. With each new shout Damian crinkles his nose in disgust and quickens his pace.

“Yo, yo, yo! Boy Wonder in the house!”

“Ohmigod! I never knew Robin was so sexy!”

“Aw, dude! Sick sword, is that real?”

People are drinking and smoking all around the house. Two girls dance topless on a table in the living room while some guys start to pick a fight with one another. As he passes the staircase near the rear of the house he notices two guys are racing each other down the stairs in laundry baskets.

He angrily whispers under his breath; “غبي سخيف أسهولز في حالة سكر”

Shaking his head and already regretting his decision Damian makes it to the kitchen but he remains on the outskirts. And being held upside-down over a keg, in a fully black suit, is none other than the man he came to see. Everyone around him is counting how long Jude can remain like that and Damian does not understand the appeal. Nor does he see the point. When Jude’s mouth is full of beer and he begins to spit it out the two buff frat guys let him down. The other people in the kitchen simultaneously make sad noises as he walks away from them and over to Damian.

“Damian! You made it!”

“I believe I did tell you that I would be attending.”

Jude smiles and claps Damian on the back in that universal sign of male camaraderie.

“I thought you said this was a costume party, Janus. You don’t appear to be in the proper attire.”

“Oh but I do, and I am, my friend,” he says with a villainous smile.

He pulls something from his pants pocket. Unfurling the rolled up cloth for Damian to see he reveals a thick mask made of black leather. With a smile on his face Jude puts the mask on and it molds to his visage perfectly; as if it was made for him. Damian’s assumptions are confirmed by Janus’ action of donning the mask and he hides his smirk.

“I knew you were never who you claimed to be.”

He reaches for the sword that rests at his back but before Damian’s hands can grasp the hilt fists are flying at him from all directions. Without time to grab his sword he begins to fight off his attackers with his bare hands. But the sheer number of men and women attacking overwhelm him. He fights for as long as he’s able and yet he is defeated by the mob of partygoers. They strip him of his sword and remove his hood before pushing him to his knees. The mob holds him in place so that the man in the mask can speak without interruption. The man bends down so that he is eye level with Damian.

“Oh, do tell, Boy Wonder. How did you figure it out?”

“Jude Janus? You couldn’t have picked something more obvious. A mere child could have figured you out.”

Taking the insult for what it was the man curls his fingers into a fist and punches Damian hard in the mouth. Blood collects inside his mouth from the repeated blows and the punch from the masked man. He spits the blood out, the blood falls onto the young man’s shiny black shoes, and Damian smirks.

“Don’t give yourself any credit, Sionis; I knew everything from the beginning. Everything about you is a complete falsehood.”

Sionis finishes wiping the blood from his hand. He looks at Damian with his dark eyes; “Looks like you've got me all figured out, then, tell me something. Have you figured out why I’m here, yet?”

Damian doesn’t answer him.

He laughs; “Ha! I knew you had no idea!”

“Well, then, how about I tell you my story; the story of Henry Sionis?” he asks with a smile.

“My mother was a face model named Circe Robinson. She worked for Janus Cosmetics; a company owned by Roman Sionis. They fell in love, like people do sometimes, and became intimate; they even got engaged. But when Roman screwed up, and made a bad batch of makeup, a bunch of women were badly disfigured. Circe broke off their engagement and hid the best she could. She gave birth to me in secret. When dear old Dad reinvented himself and built The False Face Society he found me and mom. Well, he found mom first...”

“And he forced her to wear a mask coated in the same tainted makeup that disfigured the other women. She was rendered completely mute and blank because of it. I know.” Damian interrupts.

“Dad made up for all of that by raising me,” Henry continues ignoring the interruption.

“He taught me everything I would ever want to know about the criminal underworld. He made me this mask on my eighteenth birthday when he gave me control of his empire in case death came for him. It works just like an old mask of his; controlling the minds of the weak-willed. But when The Bat arrested him and threw him in Arkham he gave control to one of his lackeys instead. And I owe it to him to show him that I’m more than worthy to follow in his footsteps.”

Henry commands one of the partygoers to grab him a drink and one of the people holding Damian leaves the horde. As he pauses in his tale to drink Damian takes advantage of the moment to check if he can move his left arm. It moves just enough and he smiles to himself.

“I’m rebuilding the False Face Society with the most weak-willed people; drunken college students. And then Dad will have no choice but to give me control of his empire. I will rebuild the FFS so that it’s even stronger than before. And you’re going to help me, Damian Wayne. Or should I say Robin?”

“Robin is the real you, is it not? That’s why you donned the whole getup tonight, right?” Henry says shooting Damian a knowing look.

Damian grits his teeth in anger. “All of this to impress a father who doesn’t love you?” he scoffs. “You’re even more pathetic than I first thought.”

Henry smiles; “Two of Gotham’s founding families finally coming together in a way such as this? It’s the perfect irony. Not to mention some sweet, sweet, revenge for Bats throwing dear old Dad in Arkham.”

“You forgot something, Sionis.”

“What’s that?”

“I am not weak-willed.”

Damian retorts as he punches the frat boy next to him, who holds his sword, in the gut. The skinny young man falls to the floor with a light thud. Despite still being under Henry’s control many of the partygoers who held him down back away from fear. Damian turns around and takes on the meathead who was the bouncer next. A jab to the abdomen with the hilt of his sword, and an uppercut to the chin, then the man lay on the floor; out cold.

The bigger they are the harder they fall.

He’s careful enough to not land any potentially fatal blows to these students, but, their varying states of drunkenness does not make it easy. Holding back most of his strength Damian soon subdues a good amount of them. Sionis’ mind-control device, which hides somewhere inside his mask, does not work on those who are incapacitated so he is down quite a few minions.

Damian notices he has a clear path to Henry and he takes it.

Flipping over a beefy frat boy who tried to bum rush him Damian cuts down a large papier-mache effigy of Yale’s mascot Handsome Dan. The bulldog effigy falls onto the beefy frat boy and two skinny girls; knocking them out. Sionis notices that Damian cleared this path and tries to make a hasty escape by running through the frat house. Seemingly escaping Robin, by rapidly turning the corner near the staircase at the back of the house, Henry laughs.

But, he is not so lucky, just as he turns the corner Damian stands in front of him; blocking his path.

Damian grabs Henry and turns him around; holding the blade of his sword to Henry’s throat he removes the mask. Moans and confused groan-like noises fill the frat house as those who were still under Sionis’ mind control begin to come to. Holding the man’s hands behind his back Damian leads him out on to the lawn. A squad of cop cars awaits their arrival. Damian reveals that he made a call to both campus and city police before he arrived at the party. After he leads Henry into the back of a cop car Damian hands the evidence he gathered on Sionis over to a policewoman.

“You Bat people sure work super fast. Thanks, kiddo,” the woman says with a nod.

“Make sure he doesn’t get anywhere near the mask. He’s virtually harmless without it. I recommend transferring him to Arkham from whatever jail he gets thrown in; they know how to deal with people like him.”

The female officer thanks him again and Damian nods silently to her before she leaves to question the partygoers. Then he walks back over to the car holding Sionis. He raps his knuckles on the window pane. Henry rolls his eyes in annoyance but rolls the window down anyway.

“You never stood a chance; this was over before you even started, Sionis. But do not be discouraged, I’m sure you’ll see your father in Arkham very soon. I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

“After all, Black Mask is the real you, is it not?” he adds with a smirk.

Damian walks away and turns his attention back to the frat house. Most of the partygoers had already spilled out onto the lawn in their confusion. Those who were outside were beginning to be questioned by the police. As he walked around he listened in on the routine questioning. Questioning that was as routine as the police could’ve asked; having never dealt with anything, or anyone, like Henry Sionis before. Not a single person remembered anything that happened during the party. And almost every single one of them couldn’t even remember how, or when, they got there. Damian reassured some of them that they would be safe and those he spoke to said they felt safer already knowing that they would have a Bat to watch over them.

After escorting a few students, who still did not feel safe, back to their dorms Damian made his way home.

Grappling across the rooftops of the university, and looking down at the campus below, Damian smiled. There was something about the way things looked at night that was vastly different from how they looked during the day. And Yale, like most big cities, had a magical look about it at night. Damian was happier in this moment than during most of the time he had already spent attending the university. Whether it was because he could go on being himself since no one remembered Sionis revealing his identity or because he could still be Robin if the need arose he wasn’t sure.

But one thing was definitely certain; he was going to make the most of it.

~~~~~

Translations:

Dog-- الكل

Prick-- وخزة

Shit-- اللعنة

Motherfucker-- الأم لحنة

Stupid fucking drunk assholes-- غبي سخيف أسهولز في حالة سكر

#dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc alternate universe #alternate universe fanfic #alternate universe fic #alternate universe fanfiction #damian wayne #dami #robin #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne fanfic #damian wayne fic #jason todd #jaybird #red hood #damijay #ageekwrites #fanfic #fanfiction #title is meh #but i hope y'all like this #i worked really hard on this #and it turned out pretty good #i'm proud of it so...

[angel-gidget]

5 Proud Mama Fics

... Per Category. Here they be, mateys. Faves from my own fic writing history.

THE INFERNAL DEVICES

1. What the Waves Can’t Provide I did Merman!Jem & Will and got away with it. ‘Nuff said.

2. The Wheel Ms. Tessa Gray-Carstairs is but one of many passengers aboard the RMS Titanic. In the end, her story is no more and no less remarkable than all the others. (I like ripping out people’s hearts and stomping on them.)

3. Isolated Incident An accident in Henry’s lab forces Tessa and the others to make some adjustments. (The time after CP and before CP2 came out was a magical and hopeful fandom limbo for me. And this captures much of the feeling of why.)

4. Undisclosed Desires Brother Zachariah is Tessa Gray Herondale’s one constant, and widows—sometimes—get lonely. (The time after CP2 was a torturous time in which I had been given so much of what I had begged for, but in ways that made me want to scream and turn back the clock. This kind of captures the angst of THAT.)

5. The Thread That Lines in Silver Five symptoms of Jem Carstair’s “illness,” and how Tessa soothes them all. (Honestly, if I could only pick 1 TID fic, this would be it. Romantic, sexy, and 100% much-needed Jem POV.)

DC COMICS

1. This Simple Life Somehow Gordon ends up fostering/adopting Jason Todd. (I didn’t realize when I wrote it that it would strike as much of a chord with people as it did. I still randomly get compliments on it. So that makes me happy.)

2. Converse in Enmity An AU in which Gotham is the last city standing against the Amazons. (I can’t believe that the timing as I read this fic actually matches the feeling of emotional progression that was in my head when I wrote it. High five, me.)

3. Barriers to the Soul Tim/Tam crossover with The Chronicles of Narnia. Narnia was always a place where sons of Adam and daughters of Eve could find their potential. In themselves and in each other. (A crossover of these two very different things still sounds weird when I say it out loud and yet, my story forces the two fandoms to gel in my brain. Apparently, it worked for other people too.)

4. Untouched Cass didn't save Tim. Pru did. But not so punctually. A drugged-up Tim is left to contemplate his overall exposure to physical contact in the last several months while a furiously terrified Tam Fox attempts to care for him. (As much as I love Tim, I don’t do his POV too often. This time I did, and it was fun and rambly.)

5. Waiting for What Will and Won’t Past Tim/Cassie, Kon/Cassie, mention of Tim/Tam. Cassie has a lot to reconcile when loved ones return from the grave. (Okay, so the one reconciling stuff was me. Way before nu52, I was just trying to deal with the fact that the ships I had started sailing in my fave Kon’s absence were about to be broken by canon. So this was me working through it.)

I am also curiously proud of angsty dark sh*t I've written for MISCELLANEOUS fandoms...

1. Last Living Standing {Lost in Space } Robot always said "Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!" But perhaps, instead of shouting "danger," he should have been whispering "tragedy." (I am so PROUD of this angst monster. That has like zero audience. Bc nobody remembers Lost in Space at all. Ah Well.)

2. Habit and Salvage {Inception} Arthur knows that in a job where the line between dream and reality blurs, the difference between murdering someone and setting her free is likely to grow murky. Arthur/Ariadne. (I loved the pairing and dabbled with the idea of full-on becoming part of the fandom, but it never went beyond this fic. Still like it tho.)

3. Nightmarish Stasis {Anita Blake/Harry Potter crossover } Fill for the promt “Nightmares.” A young wizards gets lost all too far from his home dimension with no one but the local vampire executioner to take him under-wing. Pre-series for Anita. Post-series for Harry.

4. Ash  {DC Comics, Tim/Cassie } aka A previously untitled request for wonder bird angst. Includes nostalgic comic!Young Justice references.(Whoops, another DC one. But this is angsty enough to file here, methinks, as my DC stuff is often less angsty than my other stuff.)

5. Reflections on Reflection {Paranormalcy} Lend usually sees himself pretty clearly... provided, of course, that he can see himself at all. (okay, so this one isn’t THAT dark, but still… this was mostly written for one friend in particular who loved the Paranormalcy series to death. It pleased her. So it fulfilled its purpose. But if you’ve ever read that book, you will probably enjoy the character sketch of Lend.)

#fanfic #fanfic rec #gidgeblog #the infernal devices #tid #jem x tessa #tim drake #tam fox #cassie sandsmark #wonderbird #timtam #tim x cassie #tim x tam #upagainstabookcase #@truthhoneyandashes #ask box #jason todd #inception #paranormalcy #lost in space #harry potter #anita blake #crossover #crossovers

[mavwrekmarketing]

WASHINGTON A guy who not long ago ran a white nationalist-friendly website now outranks the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff on the National Security Council.

Perhaps most revealing about the 10-day-old Donald Trump presidency: The announcement of White House aide Stephen Bannons elevation was nowhere near the most controversial thing that has happened thus far. Trump has insisted, despite obvious evidence to the contrary, that as many as 1.5 million people attended his inauguration. He has claimed, with no evidence at all, that as many as 5 million people voted illegally in his election every single one of them for his opponent. He issued a statement on Holocaust Remembrance Day that omitted any mention of Jews.

And at the close of business marking his first week in office Friday, he signed an executive order banning people from seven Muslim-majority countries from entering the U.S., without running it past the departments that would implement it. The ensuing disarray brought swift rebuke from several federal judges, blocking parts of the order at least temporarily.

Well, no surprise there, right? Its disruption and chaos, said Thomas Mann of the liberal-leaning Brookings Institution. And its all centered on Donald Trump and his acolytes in the White House.

On Saturday, Bannon was elevated to the National Security Council and its Principals Committee even as the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Director of National Intelligence were removed as permanent members of that influential committee. They will now be invited to meetings on those occasions when issues on the agenda concern them.

Bannon previously ran Breitbart News, the conservative website that aligned itself with Trump starting in late summer 2015. He was among Trumps top political aides during the final months of the campaign.

Neither Republican President George W. Bush nor Democrat Barack Obama had put a political aide on the NSC, to avoid the appearance of mixing politics with national security.

Douglas Lute, former ambassador to NATO under Obama and a deputy national security adviser under Bush, said he was puzzled by Trumps decision to put Bannon on the NSC. I found it a little peculiar, he said.

How much actual influence Bannon has there, Lute said, will depend on how the paper structure Trump signed Saturday winds up playing out in real life in the coming weeks and months. Well have to see how this works, he said.

This executive order may do more to help terrorist recruitment than improve our security. Republican Sens. John McCain and Lindsey Graham

White House press secretary Sean Spicer did not respond to a Huffington Post query about Bannons role on the NSC. In an interview with ABC News, Spicer said Bannons background as a naval officer made him a good fit.

That explanation, though, did not impress Brookings Mann. He called Bannon someone who is mainly known for being a former Breitbart head and a white nationalist, not a national security expert. Its breathtaking, Mann said. The heads of defense and intelligence are not relevant to national security concerns, but the presidents political strategist is?

During his 18-month campaign, Trump wore his complete lack of government experience as a badge of honor. He bragged that his record as a billionaire who ran 500 separate businesses would help him fix the countrys problems in a way that no all-talk, no-action politician could.

Yet those boasts, which both high-ranking Republicans as well as many of his supporters at campaign events cited, contained fundamental exaggerations. While Trump tried to convey the impression that he led a gigantic, diversified global enterprise, in reality his Trump Organization is far more modest. Many of those hundreds of businesses are actually limited liability companies created for a single specific purpose owning his personal jetliner, for example, so as to shield the parent enterprise and Trump personally should it be involved in an accident.

His financial disclosure documents instead portray more of a family business that primarily collects rents from those playing golf at his courses, from those staying at his hotels, but most of all from those licensing his name for use on their own buildings.

And that family business mindset appears to have carried over into the White House, where Trump has installed his son-in-law as a senior adviser and has come to rely on a small group of aides for nearly everything of consequence.

Everyone ought to be screaming to high heaven…. This is how a democracy slips into an autocracy. Thomas Mann, Brookings Institution

Its unclear how involved Trump himself has been in the details of his proposals. During the campaign, he boasted of being correct on issues without any need for analyzing them. In an August campaign rally in North Carolina, Trump mentioned how in an interview he was asked about NATO. And I dont study it, he said. Im a business guy.

Despite this, he said he gave good responses. Theyve actually changed NATO because of what I said, he said.

Even Republicans on Capitol Hill have started to express worries about the way Trump and his White House staff have set about their work.

It is clear from the confusion at our airports across the nation that President Trumps executive order was not properly vetted, said Arizona Sen. John McCain and South Carolina Sen. Lindsey Graham in a joint statement Sunday about Trumps immigration order.

They added that the hasty process of drafting and signing the order without review by the relevant agencies will actually give jihadists a propaganda boost. This executive order sends a signal, intended or not, that America does not want Muslims coming into our country, the statement said. That is why we fear this executive order may do more to help terrorist recruitment than improve our security.

Bloomberg via Getty Images

President Donald Trump holds up a signed executive order in the Hall of Heroes at the Department of Defense on Jan. 27.

Trump, for his part, defended the order in his own statement and then lashed out at McCain and Graham personally on Twitter. They are sadly weak on immigration, he wrote. The two Senators should focus their energies on ISIS, illegal immigration and border security instead of always looking to start World War III.

Mann said the Republicans relatively muted response so far is misplaced, given the radical changes Trump is implementing.

Everyone ought to be screaming to high heaven. This is not a time for anyone to be saying lets give the president a chance to get his government in place, he said. This is how a democracy slips into an autocracy.

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