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noodleswithsoba-blog · 4 months

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Earth 3329's Batman.

So, who wants to know about my Batman? I know, I know real original story ahead but here's the deal...

He's pretty different, based off the Burton movies mixed with the 2022 Batman, kind of a dark Gothic-Cyberpunk vibe. Also this is probably going to be a massive post.

"Every day I put on that suit, keep my stick at my side, and for what? Just to fall over and over. But I always get back up, because of one truth of this world... everyone needs a little hope and if I'm that hope, then it's worth every fall."

Quick Facts.

Name: Grayson Thomas Wayne.

Birthday: 10/27. (A few days before the anniversary of the start of the Long Halloween.)

Special Ability: Nine Lives. Grayson can come back to life nine times, after the ninth he has no more, however whatever killed him before is remembered and sometimes leads to resistances.

It's main weakness is the fact he remembers how he died every time, if it was particularly traumatic it'd have a deeper impact.

Hair Color: Black.

Eye Color: Green.

Relatives.

Bruce Wayne. (Father.)

Selina Kyle. (Mother.)

Richard 'Dick' Grayson. (Adoptive Older Brother.)

Jason Todd. (Adoptive Older Brother.)

Tim Drake. (Figurative Older Brother/Adoptive.)

Barbara Gordon. (Sister-in-Law.)

Damian Al Ghul/Owlman (Half-Brother.)

Relationships.

Page Monroe (Ex-Girlfriend.)

Pamela Isley (Current Girlfriend.)

Backstory.

The son of Bruce and Selina, young Grayson Thomas Wayne (Named after his big brother and paternal grandfather to highlight the expectations on his shoulders.) was born with Cerebral Palsy, which hampered his training quite a bit, but he was still eager to learn because who wouldn't when your dad is BATMAN? Of course when he became Robin he mostly stayed back with the Batmobile and helped investigate crime scenes and rarely got into fights.

Selina taught her son how to steal things on the side, definitely a mom that'd be protective but still try to have her son grow up a bit by taking on a little more at a time.

As a Robin, Bruce's rogues understood that Grayson couldn't really hurt them, but in this case he turned out to be a pretty sweet kid. Arkham was hell but at least he'd try to make things a little more comfortable for the inmates.

But there was one that didn't like the baby bat, one that wanted to play an even deadlier joke against the Bat and Cat...

The Joker. He took out one Robin, he's 1-3 on the Killed Robin board so the cute little prince of Gotham would have to do. So one night, he caused a huge crime spree, drawing away both Selina and Bruce, the fourteen year old Grayson, eager to prove himself had tracked down the Clown Prince of Crime and was just about to send the location to Oracle when he dropped off the grid.

When they found him he was barely alive, dying soon after and being buried... until he dug his way out and went to bed, scaring the daylights out of Alfred and the rest of the family.

Ever since then, the Bat-Family as well as the Wayne family imploded. Grayson could barely look at the Robin suit without flying into a panic attack, losing his desire to help Gotham. Selina thought it'd be best to divorce Bruce and get their child out of Gotham. In no small part blaming her complacency in the fact that their son had difficulties and still made him a Robin.

They moved to Seattle, Washington. Bruce slowly gave up on being Batman, Gotham slowly rotting further.

Becoming the Bat.

The matter of Grayson becoming Batman is because of a downward spiral after losing Pamela and not processing his grief well at all. While the Mission isn't as important, it all starts as an investigation into Jason Woodrue, who he was suspicious of back in Seattle, but now really wants to find out why he did that to Pamela.

It's also a culmination of all the years he's tried to run from his destiny as the next Batman, so this is all just a burden he has to bear now because he's too far in.

As we'll see with my Superman, this is the opposite of his case.

Personality.

Grayson became a very quiet young man. He could ACT like he's happy or not having issues but in a moment whoever he's hiding it from would see into him.

He very much wears his emotions on his sleeve. Even after what happened to him he still makes an effort to not let it defeat him. He's nervous in big social groups.

He's very soft spoken and doesn't like confrontation, owing to the fact that Pamela and Page were much more outspoken than him and he'd often retreat inside his own head.

But before that, he was outgoing and happy. Almost like he loved everything about being in Gotham and caring about it. Dick and Tim used to remember how eager he was to go out and help.

A lot of the Old Guard of rogues like the Penguin, the first Ivy, and Harley Quinn remember him as a sweet kid that really would get eaten up by Gotham.

He'd talk with them and of course none of them would actively try to hurt him. Mostly because Batman was nearby at all times as little Robin asked Mr. Cobblepot or Miss Ivy about how their gadgets and powers worked.

Grayson was never angry at Harley though. She wasn't there when he died and she probably wouldn't have changed Joker's mind at all. She does shove herself into his life as his 'Auntie Harley' and keeps an eye on him...

Which he finds really sweet but embarrassing because Harley tells Selina EVERYTHING about what he's doing and all that.

He absolutely adores cats, especially ones that wobble because they remind him of himself and he has a way with them because his mom does.

He and Bruce also loved listening to old radio serials like the Gray Ghost and The Shadow, so Grayson implements the tactics of The Shadow into his common Batman kit.

He'd be a drama kid if he wasn't railroaded into being Batman.

While being the Caped Crusader... Grayson is the definition of rage and efficiency. He has to be mindful of his limits and his Batsuit is armored in such a way to protect himself.

So imagine him fighting with a stick and metal claws and a whip, he's a blend of Batman and Catwoman with a bit of Nightwing.

He's also very measured and calm when not fighting. Often as to not scare civilians and unnerve villains when he's skulking towards them wanting to beat the tar out of them.

Well, that's his LAST resort. He tends to go for mind games rather than straight fisticuffs but can handle himself if desired. He doesn't have much of a Batgrowl, more like a soft, gentle monotone.

He does have a lot of gadgets in comparison to his father. Some more to make Batmanning more accessible. He does have his own Batmobile and that's pretty much it for vehicles.

His relationship with the GCPD is hostile. He doesn't care about them considering he has access to their records, and again, Babs is out of town but tries to help.

Meanwhile Gotham's falling apart at the seams by the time he returns.

As Grayson Wayne the Playboy... there isn't one. He has Ivy, or Page. He's happily partnered with either one of them and they're basically the talk of the town.

Even though he's highly introverted and his social battery is nonexistent, Pamela tends to chase them off with a glare, while Page would whip them all into an excited crowd as she regales them with glamourous tales to help Grayson get away.

Love Interests.

Back when Grayson was younger, he was a real hit with the uppercrust of Gotham, being the Prince of the City had it's benefits. Of course, there were several people who wanted to take advantage. None moreso than former actress Gloria Monroe and her daughter Page.

Gloria wanted to marry Page off to the Waynes as a backup plan if the acting didn't work out.

Of course, Page initially didn't want to be there, until she saw Grayson go into the manor's library for a little social battery recharge with his wobbly cat, Wells.

Page was a child star, a rising sensation in the entertainment world, being a riches to rags back to riches story in GOTHAM was a big deal.

But with Grayson? She had a friend who never saw the actress and saw the girl underneath. Over the next few months, she would remember every day with him fondly as she slowly began to fracture, clinging to him and wanting him to stay with her.

Until one day he broke up with her. Telling her that he was leaving Gotham. Yet she still held feelings for him, and little did she know for a while after he did too.

She has a very good memory for dates and often reminisces on the days where she was beautiful, the days where she had a wobbly cat and the heart of the Prince of Gotham.

There's a theme of getting back what you lost before with Page. Echoes of Sunset Boulevard, too. Constantly trying to stay relevant, to stay beautiful, to stay as she was before.

She's the first person the newly returned Batman saves. Page and Grayson reunite and she's on the very edge of snapping after losing a job and being rejected from new ones for not being what they wanted.

As a further partner, Page would be a pretty capable partner considering Mean Seasons, and this versions acting skills. Plus she'd appreciate her Gracey's efforts to reform Gotham with her as his spokeswoman.

She still would wear her mask if she gets overwhelmed or scared.

Pamela Isley met Grayson at a college party. Both of them being intense introverts but she was outspoken and very strong-willed. Something the quieter, softer Grayson needed help with regaining. Pamela also was a botany student, very intelligent and successful.

She was also intensely against all forms of authority, and would easily, easily be ACAB and maybe an Anarchist. Ironic considering that her boyfriend used to be a Robin.

Although nowadays Grayson would agree with her on a lot of points. She ended up radicalizing him.

Grayson steadily forgot about Gotham with her. Saw the light and saw getting better as a possibility. For himself, and to be a better man for her and his family.

However, the experiments that she was undergoing to protect the plants she loved and by extension protecting him from the wider world because he was one of the only people who saw her as more of a person other than her family killed her.

But like Grayson, Pamela rose again. Her goal is to tear down the corruption of Gotham, and make a garden in its place, to be the salvation of the planet as well as the idea of being alone with the people she loves completely safe.

Of course Dr. Woodrue's goal was to precisely make an embodiment of the Green to combat humanity's expansion and grasp immortality. And while Dr. Isley finds it cruelly ironic that her daughter went down the same road...

Pamela sees it as a new opportunity. If only she could stop thinking about Grayson and see it through to the end. She's extremely antisocial towards other people and only still loves Grayson because he respects her autonomy and adores her for who she is.

Also during parties she scares people off. As Ivy, she's a very hostile person to whoever or whatever is getting in her way, but she helps Grayson because they have a similar goal. A better Gotham.

The only reason WHY she goes to these galas is to make people wildly uncomfortable. Also picking out more targets for her partner to take down, it's a whole system.

Also she absolutely has various plant monsters throughout Gotham just waiting for a citywide threat even though Grayson harps on it.

#original character #oc x canon #fanfiction #dc universe #pamela isley #page monroe #batman

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pyrokinesis · 2 years

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obssessed with what if idea of bruce and talia staying married and raising damian together—imagine the chaos, imagine all the love spread, imagine the comedy.

like if we're doing math and we're setting this in post-crisis, when damian was born, bruce was still in his early 20s and by now he already had 14 year old dick grayson,

so imagine dick, by now adopted for 2 years and robin of circa a year and half, finding out bruce and talia gotten married, and then few months later they're expecting a baby, like he's been the only child for all 14 years of his life, suddenly he has to be a big brother, and i think it'd create tensions at first, with the baby being biological child and his dislike of talia,

but then after a while, dick comes to bruce and talia's bedroom bringing them both breakfast in bed while talia is reading a book and bruce is dead to the world because idiot batman, and talia is a bit confused but dick goes on and on about how while she isn't his favourite person, her health and the health of the baby come first so he'd decided to be the best teenage older brother ever, and so he bonds with both talia and bruce over getting manor ready for the baby, and whenever he's with the titans he gives them updates about his baby sibling and rants how they'll have to visit ra's after the baby is born and he can't stand the man's ego

spring turns into summer and one night in august talia goes into labour, and bruce, the overachiever in worrying, calls half a league to witness his baby being born and when talia's obgyn announces it's a healthy baby boy, both dick and bruce jump into clark's arms, and alfred and ra's are awkwardly congratulating to each other

damian is a happy and a spoiled baby, with both being very loved and very rich, but because his whole family tries their best, he slowly grows up in a fine boy, a chaotic toddler who climbs his father like a tree and yells at his papa, a whiny toddler who cries when his mama says they can't visit the kent farm and their cows this weekend, and a happy toddler who takes naps with his teenage brother

now imagine the chaos when one autumn night bruce leaves to honor his parents he finds himself in the crime alley and instead of spending the night remembering his parents' murder, all memories he has of that night is of the small angry orphan, and when he comes home alfred and talia are waiting for him and he doesn't even wait before telling them about this boy he met and talia is curious about the child that made bruce forget about his own parents

as soon as ma gunn was sent to prison, bruce's begging talia to adopt the kid, talia can't you see he made me laugh on my parents' death anniversary, he called me a boob while trying to steal the tires off batmobile, we need this kid, and talia, trying to be rational, asks if he can take care of another angry and traumatized orphan while taking care of a 3 year old and fighting crime in his free time and bruce of course promises, and the moment talia and jason meet you can feel the love between them and when damian approvingly climbs jason like a tree it's settled their boy is theirs

and then dick, a literal 17 year old who left the role of robin, needs to meet this kid and he's still at odds at bruce because they've been fighting about general things, bruce not wanting dick to fight crime after he almost died and dick wanting to be taken seriously as nightwing now, and bruce wanting dick to have a uni degree, and it's what it is

dick isn't sure of jason at first, mostly cause by now jason has started his training as a robin, but damian likes him, and if damian, and even talia like the kid, dick would live by his name and that'd be the worst—cue to the waynes becoming even bigger family

because of talia and bruce having mostly alright marriage, jason wouldn't probably rush into ethiopia and he'd talk to talia who'd come with him and when they'd meet sheila she'd try to be nice but then she'd smell a trap and together she and jason would definitely beat up joker and put sheila behind the bars—jason's pretty not okay because another mother figure in his life traumatised him, and by now all members of the family except bruce regularly go to therapy

family is a bit shaken but when batman finds their neighbors the drakes dead and almost dead it's an instict for bruce and talia to offer themselves as a foster family to the little boy drake—cue comedy once again because everyone is trying very hard not to spill abiut their nightlife, even damian who is four years old, but then it all hilariously falls apart when dick catches tim trying to get into batcave and then the old clock doors open and jason comes out the batcave and it's just crickets

#listen i spent too much time thinking about this don't even ask why #bruce wayne #batman #talia al ghul #ra's al ghul #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #robin #nightwing #damian al ghul wayne #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #postcrisis batfamily au

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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Stalker X Stalker, Part 10

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

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

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

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

Still, it was fun…

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

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

The reason why was less fun, though.

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

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

“The…? Oh, no, he does not.”

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

“Got stabbed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“FUCK,” yelped Flamebird.

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

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

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

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

And they did.

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

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

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

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

“Cass?” He asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“TWELVE.”

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

“... guess that’s true.”

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

Duke grinned. “Actually --.”

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

Cass pouted and raised her hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickered. “I can get behind that.”

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

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

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

“Did you get more of my gummy bears?”

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

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

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

He beamed and started sifting through her bags.

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

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

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

Tim squinted at the three people below him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce gave the grunt that meant ‘fine’.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, shit, she knew that voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. She was stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, for now…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She turned the movie on.

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

So, he should be fine.

But he wasn’t.

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

He didn’t want to be alone again.

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

Yeah. Work. He was good at work.

He bit his lip.

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

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

Simple solution! Don’t let her get hurt!

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t…

Could he?

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

He hesitantly let go of his lip.

“Hey, Bean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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batarella · 3 years

Text

3 birds 1 stone - RED

Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

WORDS: 7791 WARNINGS: Sexual Content, Mentions of Trauma

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | BLUE | YELLOW

-----

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

- Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

You:

“Y/N?”

On peaceful days should there be chaos to be expected. With peace does not come promise. A flower with blooming red petals would eventually wilt, despite all else telling it not to. That same blooming flower would die the same from other natural, unnatural causes, like a wind too strong for it to hold onto its stem or a butterfly that came too late for its pollen.

But when peace was current, something you could see right before you knowing it wasn’t to last, it wasn’t much because of the artist you were why you’d resort to capturing that peace onto your canvas and make it last forever.

Two artists, that was. Someone joined you in your endeavor that day. Not so much of a student as he were a companion. An equal, perhaps.

Damian didn’t let his squinting eyes from where he placed the tiniest round brush on, the fabric that turned blue at his touch. You merely hummed at his call of your name and didn’t look to him as well.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Two easels set up at the manor’s back porch angled just right for most of the city skyline to be seen. It was far too small to be the focus, but everything else, the valleys that surrounded it, the actual forests going against the concrete ones, if you managed to get it right, you might want to keep this one for yourself.

Your thoughts complete left all that matter, however, when Damian asked you, “It’s a question about sex. More than one actually.”

“Oh.”

Not what you thought.

You might have had a lymph node in your neck, but still you nodded.

“Alright then. What do you want to know?”

He was painting the clouds. Didn’t even look the slightest bit uncomfortable. Good, you guessed.

“How old am I supposed to be before having it?”

Some wordless mutter rolled out your tongue at that. Eventually, the answer just came right out of you.

“Other than being of age, it really depends if you’re emotionally ready for it, Damian. If you know you’re not ready, nothing should push you to do it.”

“How do I know when I’m ready?”

That same calmness, the one that steadied your often shaking hands, allowed you to create the perfect cone for one of the hilltops at the horizon. You marveled over it for a while.

“When your doubts are encompassed with everything else,” you said. “When you know about what comes after.”

A dimming yellow sun, over at the far end. It was that sun, you told yourself, that was making those words fall of your lips. And not at all this series of resurfacing memories.

“When you meet the right person,” you told him.

You saw from your side eye how that remark made Damian stop with his brush. He set it onto its holder, placed his hands on his knees. “Other people don’t wait for that last one,” he said. “Do they?”

“It’s always different for a lot of people. Sometimes, they could only ever do it with people they love. Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter.”

“When I have sex with someo-“

You gave him a dirty look.

“When I’m a lot older,” he scoffed. “And I want to engage in the act of coitus.”

“Coitus?”

“How do I know they’re right? They’re the right person at that moment, then suddenly the next, they’re not.”

You reached over his easel to grab his brush, handing it back as you pointed at a raven that landed on one of the trees. It urged him to continue.

“You ask yourself then. If things won’t go the way you’d have wanted with that someone, would you regret ever doing it with them at all?”

“Obviously,” he snorted. “I wouldn’t want to waste my time.”

A bright smile, just as you settled the green of the wilting grass. Not so much was it green as it were this brownish orange, with it still cold enough for you to wear a sweater this uncomfortable when you’d have wanted your hands free.

“Is it really this…” he did some kind of motion with his hands. “…milestone in your life that’s supposed to be so important?”

“Wow, you’re really asking the right questions here, kid.”

That nickname made him snarl, back to his canvas. It took you a while, having to look to the sky for some kind of answer that wasn’t going to mess his head for the rest of his life.

“I used to think it wasn’t,” you said. “Sometimes, it’s only as important as you make it. It’s all up to what you believe.”

You turned your brush over just the right circle, which made of the red petals of a rose on one of the bushes that first greeted the day after months of a long winter.

Then there was this sinking. Something within.

“But your first time, at least. It should be with someone you love,” you said. “You’ll find that a lot of things will be easier for you.”

He seemed satisfied with that. Thankfully. He didn’t look so traumatized just yet.

Then he asked you one that no longer was so easy to think about.

“Was your first time with someone you loved?”

And you thought, with how everything suddenly weighed, not just your head or your hands but the whirring air, the leaves that danced along to it, the flowers still so young into their bloom, the misty clouds, the light, the brush on your hand and the paint on its tip.

What wasn’t so heavy, that is, was your voice.

Because if anything surprised you that day, more than the questions and the apparent peace, was how easily the answer came out of you.

Easy, because it was true.

And it was true, because when you lied, your clammy hands would be stuck to your back, shaking just as much as your eyes would be frantic and searching for something that wasn’t there.

But your voice was as light as your hands were calm and dry, your eyes fixated on the beautiful sight of the city and nothing else.

“Yes,” you said. And with it, came a smile that lasted for days.

Jason:

Two thousand dollars sounded a lot more inviting after a failed drug raid, not so much after the seeing all the evening gowns and diamonds and Bruce using his almighty charm with investors in sharp-needled stilettoes.

He did not, for his own sanity’s sake, want to sit through any of it, not even for a whole inheritance from the enterprise. Nope. Not even ten million dollars was worth putting on this god-awful suit poking through his neck like a knife, a jacket supposed to fit but had popped off one of the buttons, and of course, his hair. Swept back. Ruled over by mounds of gel and whatever it was the rest of his brothers had on. They all looked like elves in a Christmas workshop assembly line with the red tie over his chest.

Whatever trouble would happen, they’d call him. Now that they’ve blocked off his room, however, he came to not much resort.

The manor’s pool, to his luck, was unguarded. Unused for the last few months, but still clean.

Whatever silence was, and whatever silence could be, it was just that when he shut the door behind him, not bothering to latch on the lock, and turned on one of the lights, the purple and blue ones that shone from underneath the pool’s floor, like some magical lake that would speak to him in rhymes, maybe hand him a sword floating on a lily pad, but not even that was enough to impress him. As if anything impresses him still.

He stood by the poolside, hands in his suit pockets. Audibly he cursed that he forgot to bring a cigarette pack, but even that thought didn’t last long enough to bother him too much.

Jason stood there, right by the water, and watched the lights change like they told much of a story.

Something. Anything, to intrigue him.

Anything to make him feel again, to interest him, to cry out to him and actually hold his attention long enough for it to not be whisked away from his mind by his own hands because thinking or feeling was too much work.

But even those very lights, that didn’t seem so bright at all, were silent. The same silence for so many months.

He wanted noise. He wanted to hear again. But nothing, nothing was loud enough for him anymore. Someone could be screaming into his head and so much of it would disperse before it even reaches his ears at all, much less his brain. It wasn’t that he was being dumb, though that would be quite the reason.

But it was that nothing was bright enough anymore.

No one was attractive, or intriguing, or entertaining. Not by a mile.

Nothing. He cared about nothing.

Everything, all except her.

And it had to be just that, no room so bright, no smile so true, then when it was with her.

He hated the truth, perhaps just as much as he hated the rest of the world. The only thing he didn’t hate was someone he couldn’t even be with, much less love. But here he was.

Some noise from the door he came in from. He should have locked it. Now someone else was here.

More so did he wish that when he turned and saw who it was.

“Here?” Y/N’s shoes against the empty ground. That, he heard. Fuck him. “Really?”

“They closed off my room.”

She looked really pretty, lipstick on her already red lips, jumpsuit dragging along the tiles and her hair down her back. And she didn’t stop walking until she was right by his side, much to his dismay. Still, he didn’t move. Though god forbid he allow himself another look after the first one.

“You’re just gonna stand here and stare at the water?”

“Better than that shitshow outside.”

“Every party’s a shitshow for you.”

“Finally, one of you caught on.” He shifted his arms as if he had a drink he was holding, which he didn’t. He needed one badly.

“Then why accept the job?” she shrugged. “You could have just said no.”

He didn’t expect her to look at the water like it were at all interesting.

But suddenly, the lights from underneath didn’t seem so dull anymore.

Because even having to swim through the lavas of literal hell, I’d leave the comforts of isolation if it means you’d be anywhere within the room.

“Two thousand dollars,” he said.

“Ah.”

Everything did get easier to understand, once he stopped with the moping and the denial and actually allowed that stupid little voice he hated to speak up loud enough so he’d listen to it.

“Maybe you’re right,” she laughed. “The water actually is a lot more interesting.”

Right then, he allowed himself a second, subtle look. At her face. The thin straps over her shoulders that laid so well against her skin. Her hair she’d purposely made unruly but still styled enough to be classy.

The next thing to notice were her hands. They weren’t shaking, though they weren’t unmoving either. Her thumbs were rubbing over the backs of her palms, much like fidgeting her fingers would as if she were nervous. But there shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about. Nothing he could see, at that.

But after a look at her hands, it was her eyes that told him the whole story of her trailing thoughts, thoughts that maybe she didn’t know about as well.

Three years since she’s last stepped into a pool, since she’s felt that much water around her, dance along every bit of her skin when she’d push through the waves and move about as if she were floating, or flying, suspended from the ground and not have a string to hold her up.

She wanted to. He could see that. But it was doubtful that she’d admit to that. She’d never admit to that, not when it would only cause so much disappointment when she’ll ultimately cower away.

But her wanting to swim made him want to swim.

Some first step. To have someone to help her. He could be that someone.

Not even thinking for himself anymore. Jason was off to the benches at the side, and had taken off his tie and slid it off his neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, just as he took off his suit jacket.

“I’m going in.”

She looked at him like she would to a troll that had climbed out of the sewers, though it wasn’t much out of disgust as it would be of disbelief. At least, he hoped it was. That wasn’t even to matter. He’d taken off his dress shirt before he even realized what he was doing at all.

Not something he’d do so suddenly, but then again, some of the most stupid things he’s ever done the past year were all for her sake. This didn’t surprise him at the least, not even the fact that the more rational part of him was watching him move like some hamster in a wheel stupidly trying to run away.

“You’re gonna swim?”

He unbuckled his belt. “Mind turning around?”

Her eyes flashed wide open, and she did as told.

Jason took off his pants, his shoes, everything save for his boxers. This wasn’t so stupid. It shouldn’t be.

He stepped into the pool, one foot first, then he slid in. He wanted to feel the cold. He wanted it to go against his heat and make him feel something and actually overwhelm him. And it was just that, that very feeling he’d long craved, when he spread his arms and let the water seep into his flesh.

Then he found himself smiling, just as he looked up and caught Y/N watching him do all that, lips between her teeth and beaming back so wonderfully bright, every part of him ached for that sight to last so much longer.

He sat back, waved through the water, inviting her even when he wasn’t asking her, telling her that this is all okay, that she was ready.

A million voices were screaming at him that none of this added up to just about every thought he could muster, that it wasn’t in him to just jump into the water, half naked and alone with the woman he loved. So many asking him what the hell he was doing, that all this was going to scare her away.

But it was, in fact, in him to know what went on in her head, as she longingly looked at the pool like it were so much more than that. It was in him to know that there’s so many more steps in this staircase of healing, to being that very person she’d sought out to be, away from the incident, who she no longer was, and never has been.

Jason swam over to the side of the pool, at the side where she stood.

And with that, a smile so beautiful, she crouched over and set her legs to the side so she could sit on the ground. Her hand was too near from where he laid his arms, but he didn’t reach for it. He just watched as the droplets that fell from his skin onto the ground nipped at her fingers.

“Is it cold?”

His voice was low and husky. “Yeah…”

“Is it nice?”

Jason looked to the wall behind her and laughed. “The water’s great.”

She hummed.

Her hands. Something about them. He couldn’t look away. Like they were so much more than her soft fingers and her gentle touch. With his chin buried onto his folded arms, he kept looking.

Not from her hands that were reluctantly reaching for the water’s surface, shy, bashful even, like it would sting her if she inched too close. Y/N stretched out her fingers and touched it, enough to drench just the tip of it, then she twirled it about to create wonderful ripples that waved to his body.

Jason reached over to hold her wrist, stopped just in case she were to pull away, but she didn’t pull away.

Y/N’s eyes were on him, just as silent and curious, and he felt her relax.

He led her hand further into the water, deeper, colder. He felt the hair on her skin stand, bumps over her pores. She was breathless, over something so small. He pulled gently enough until the water reached up to her elbow.

Then the smile he earned out of her, the love he so wanted to earn as well, it was all he could see, with her toying with the water and swerving it about. Right then, he could hear everything. The droplets that danced, the splashes against their skin, her subtle laughter, her teeth over her lips. He heard it all, and it was beautiful, so much more than songs or tunes played by the most skilled hands over piano keys.

If he could just let himself watch her, for longer than he hoped, he’d fall deeper in love than the depths he’d already fallen into, and had tried, relentlessly, to escape from, but couldn’t. Denial didn’t help much, but neither did admittance. He was stuck. And if only things weren’t so hard, he wouldn’t dare complain. Not when that very woman he loved was this beautiful.

She drew her hand away, her other one soothing the damp skin and ruining her jumpsuit with the water, which she didn’t even care about.

He wasn’t even thinking anymore. His heart open and his mind shut off. From how she sat, her ankle was exposed, and it was close enough to the water to feel the splatters but not enough to get wet.

Still, without a word, Jason cupped his hand, drew a bit of water up to the surface.

Then he played those drops right onto her skin, close to her feet where her shoes were strapped around. She clenched her toes at the cold, but she seemed to have liked it. He did it again, the droplets falling from his fingers, until her skin was stiff from the air so cold with it drenched.

That’s when she sighed, went on to stare at the little waves he’d created.

“I want to go in.”

He backed away from the pool side, waved his arms about to show her further that it was safe, and wonderful. Then he nodded at her. “If you think you’re ready…”

He saw her throat hitch, but it wasn’t out of doubt.

“I’m ready.”

He didn’t even have to try so hard to show her that everything she was going through, right then, he knew every second of what it was like. His face was soft, his look on her was soft, every bit of him had to be soft for this to be easy on her.

Then things weren’t so soft anymore when she started pulling down her straps from her shoulders. He gulped.

“Could you uh,” she twirled her finger around, motioning that he turn the other way. He did.

It was, both to his fortune and of not, that the wall in front of him was a mirror, reflecting all that went on behind his back. Everything in him stopped, even the blood down his every vein, and with that he watched as she exposed her temple of a body, one he’d worshipped and cherished and made feel every ounce of a sensation there could be, and continue to dream about even with her no longer being there.

But she was here now.

You:

The hardest to take off weren’t the straps on your shoes.

But all you ever had to know, was that the one you were with, the one you were hopelessly in love with, was there to help you through all of this.

“Do you, uh,” Jason coughed. “Need some help with that?”

You knew he was watching. If you actually didn’t want him to watch, you would have gone to the other side of the pool and took off your clothes where there wasn’t a mirror in front.

“Yeah,” you said.

As his eyes laid on you, relaxed, calm, just as you remembered he once watched your body so bare, with just a strapless bra over your chest and seamless panties, what contrasted the very cold that stemmed from the water was the burn underneath your flesh, the burn in your chest, the burn on your face and every nerve ending there was. Every nerve ending.

Suddenly you were limbless when he swam over to you, right in front from where you sat at the poolside, and his fingers were on the skin of your thighs, both of them. The water from his skin, falling and absorbing into your own. A sensation in itself.

You unlatched your leg, and he pulled it off and set it to your side.

Now, you were bare.

Jason was looking up at your eyes, however, and not at anything else. Not at the parts so incomplete. Not on places so ugly. As if you were so beautiful. And from that look alone, you started to believe that you were.

One at a time.

With his hands held out, you let him take your right leg, the one covered in burns and healed stitches, but still with toes and skin at all, and carefully, laid it into the water.

It was cold. Colder than even ice. But god, was it so heavenly.

Now, the other.

Jason, from what you could tell, tried not to look nervous just as you were, but you both smiled, and that was all there is to it to make you step into that very threshold once so frightening.

Your left leg, ending just three inches below your knee, dipped into the water’s surface.

You were here.

You were free.

You could feel the cold, the water, the waves, and the rush up to your head.

“Take your time,” Jason breathed, and his voice was all the more wonderful with everything else you could feel.

Any more, and the tears might start to defy your efforts.

He was as gentle as you knew him to be, and with that, it urged you on. You wanted to be the freest version of yourself. You wanted to be in the water with him, and hold him.

“Jason-“

“I’m here.”

You slid off the poolside, and he was there to hold you up before you could even think to move. His warm hands were so different from how cold the water was, but as equally burning as the heat that spurred everywhere else. They held your waist, and you did not want them to move away at all.

“It’s okay,” he said, with his grip still strong. “I’ll let go only if you tell me to.”

So you didn’t tell him to.

Your hands, already they found their ways resting on top of his shoulders, holding onto him a lot firmer than you actually needed to. Your right leg touched the floor. Your left one waved about in the water. You looked down. They were there. They were alright. They didn’t sting, nor hurt, nor did you feel so exposed that you’d never want to step into any light again.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you frantically nodded, still looking down at the prettiest lights that shone beneath you and Jason’s feet.

You were laughing. “This is so great…”

“It is…”

With you so distracted marveling over the water, he thought you wouldn’t notice if his hands rubbed over your waist, circled them tighter, enough for his fingers to rest delicately on your spine. He was holding you so tenderly, yet you could feel how much he was holding back. And you just went on pretending not to notice.

“I want to go there.”

You pointed at the middle of the pool, where the lights were centered on, littered about to form this spiral that stretched out like a firework that burst into the sky.

“Alright,” said Jason. “Hold on, okay?”

You nodded, and again that wonderful sensory outburst that were supposed to overwhelm you, but didn’t, when Jason led you both to the center of the pool, the waves flowing against your flesh and skin. Oh, was it so beautiful. The water, touching your every bit, it was so much more than you remembered, and so much better than you’d have imagined.

As you reached that very center, and with you having to take in both the feel of this flight, the breath that had escaped you, the lights, ones you had to watch from afar, were now beneath and around you, like you stood right in the core of a star that exploded, a supernova, right at the flares and the burst of light and sound, just as it was on your flesh.

You were swimming on stars, on clouds, on a bed of petals so sweet. You were afloat in this wonderous space, the sun so close but not burning you with its light. There were tears. Wonderous tears. Ones you couldn’t hold back with your heart in full and your chest in this tug that pulled it in all directions. You splayed your arms out, and tilted your head back, enough for your hair to be dipped into the water. And you closed your eyes. Everything. Everything. This was everything.

You looked back up, and no one, not even the moon itself in the midst of a dark sky, had ever looked at you the way Jason did.

Oh god, how you loved him.

Then that music, one that was playing so sweetly the moment you stepped in, it blurred out when you circled your arms around his strong neck.

He kept with his promise and went on to keep holding you so close, closer, until your chest met his so solid, all the cold from the once freezing water was whisked away.

Fingers tangled onto his hair, breaths battling as they met in the space in between, a space that shouldn’t have been there at all. His own hands trailed down to your hips, further down until it made you jolt.

Then your legs were around him. You were flying, so high up in the sky not even the clouds would reach you.

He pushed back your hair.

You didn’t know at what point your lips had met, your warmth uniting into one, single flame, but everything was so much of the speed of a moving picture, that none of time, nothing of the sort that wasn’t him and him alone, ever even mattered anymore.

Jason:

What was it called, when something unfolded before you, and everything happened so fast even when you’d try to make it slow, flashed into this bright, white light, and suddenly you couldn’t move, nor say anything to protest?

That wasn’t even much to think about anymore.

Everything was paced, so slow, slow enough that he could feel every movement she made, every flick of her fingers, every sound that escaped her lips. It heightened to so much more than it actually was. Those months, where he no longer felt even just a splinter, now all those feelings collapsed into the now.

He was kissing the world, his world, and so much of her beauty manifested into this glorious flow. He was hungry, digging into her skin as if there were more to be undone. His lips were no different. Over her lips, her jaw, her neck, licking over her shoulder and back over to her lips where she tasted the sweetest.

She did not hold back either, and he didn’t want her to. She pulled on his hair enough to make it hurt and so perfect was that pain, the growl that came out of him so animalistic, even more so did he starve. Starve for her. He wanted to taste every bit of her.

And so he did, pushing her to the edge of the pool and turning her around so no longer could anything restrict his shaking touch, on every part of her that would spark a fire engulf larger than the one within his chest. He pushed himself inside her, over and over until it hurt.

He couldn’t hold back, couldn’t hide behind this mask of gentleness any longer. For that same gentleness and touches so soft, only could be when his efforts to conceal what his desires truly manifested into, and it comes with deep want, so much lust, fire that burns, skin being drawn in red by the hungriest nails and teeth that dug into flesh. His hips started to hurt, so did his hands. It was starting to hurt her, too, with there being marks on just about every sweet spot there was. But it was just those marks that pushed them both further into fulfillment.

His name, Jason, the most beautiful thing to ever escape her lips, his hands holding her still, holding her neck and squeezing just enough to let her know that only he could ever give her that perfect mix of pain and gratification so immense, that only he could touch her and make it last, and for the whole of the night, his name was the only thing she could ever cry out.

You:

Oh.

Oh, was it all so wonderful.

The strain, the pull of every muscle, the purple marks on your neck, the bruises on your hips, the aches down your cunt, and every bit inside you, still with the many releases, bursts of avalanches and numbs that faltered into lingering buzzes, and eventually this humming that continued like some song you couldn’t remember. Wonderful. Magical. Even if you could think straight, which you couldn’t do much with what happened, you couldn’t describe it with enough justice.

You’ve never slept so well in so long, your head up far beyond the clouds, into space and the stars above, the gas giants that make you even lighter. With not even gravity to pull you down, you were soaring up above.

In some idealistic perfection, a world without the cruelties you knew all too well, it would be that you’d wake up, satisfied at that, to a bed that wasn’t empty, next to a man you loved whose body was filled with the deepest scars, and that would have been the end to the story and all else, the chaos most especially, would cease.

But as it were as cruel as it were kind enough to grant you that moment of bliss, you woke up, still with the sky so dark, and your arm outstretched for a naked body no longer there, but instead you found that very body already with his clothes on, moving as quiet as he possibly could outside the bed.

“Jason?” you sighed, then you sat up holding the thin sheet up to your chest.

Jason was startled. Wasn’t expecting to wake you. Or that, he was trying not to.

“Why are you up?” he asked. He was in a hurry.

And his face, from what you could read, it told you everything you needed to know.

“Are you leaving?”

Again? You wanted to say.

But even if you did, his response wouldn’t have changed. For the better, that is. Because he didn’t have much a response at all.

“Go back to bed.”

“What’s going on-“

“I’m sorry.”

He zipped up his pants, put on his jacket and just like that he was headed for the door.

His face was too grim and blank for him to leave with intention to come back. His hands were too fast reaching for the door. His voice, too low as if he were hiding something from eventually spilling. No. He was leaving. And he wouldn’t want to be found. Not after that look he just gave you before he opened the door.

You took all the sheets and reached for his shoulder. Already, you were shattered. Already, the weight had befallen, on your arms and your chest. He was so stiff that even to just turn, it was hard for him to do.

But you held his face, really held him so he wouldn’t dare pull away. The air had been sucked out of that very room and so much of your body would have broken apart, fallen to the ground and no one would be there to pick them up.

“You don’t have to leave,” you whispered, pushing your forehead against his so your breaths would meet again. “Please, be with me-“

“Y/N -“

“What did I do?” You met his eyes.

“Nothing. Please. We’ll talk about this later-“

“When?”

He sounded so solid, so unaccepting of anything to be hurled at him.

“I have to go-“

“You’re not coming back, are you?“

“I said we’ll talk about this.”

“Don’t walk away from me-“

He didn’t even let you finish.

He was strong, and he never used that against you. But that time, he did. He grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you off him. In less time than you would have hoped, he was gone.

The man you wanted. The one you loved. The one you chose.

Wouldn’t choose you.

Another of the hurt, that descent, when you’ve slipped into this hole so familiar yet the pain wasn’t something to get used to. Tears on the sheets, broken, so many of them spilling out of you and onto the floor, your skin, the bed.

You can’t shatter again. You can’t break any more.

This was the choice you made. No one told you it was all going to be easy. That all this would be handed over just as you called the moment you wanted it. No. Not with him.

Go after him.

Tell him everything.

Go after him.

You grabbed everything you got, put on your clothes and rushed out that door before you were even fully awake enough for your eyes to adjust to the light. Straight down the stairs, out into the garage where you knew Jason parked his bike. He wasn’t there. He already left.

So you took one of the keys that were hung on the wall, started up one of Bruce’s many cars and drove out of that manor.

You weren’t going to let go. You’d chase him if you had to.

You knew this would happen, the moment you realized you loved this asshole. You saw this coming. And you were prepared.

You were as fast as if you flew, if you were no heavier than a speck, a particle that would let even the flap of a butterfly’s wings change its course and move so fast, no one would have seen it.

You called him. As you drove and reached the city, you did not stop calling. Five. Six. Ten times. He didn’t answer.

Once you reached his apartment, seeing that his bike wasn’t where he’d parked it, you called again.

At the fifteenth call, he picked up.

“Jason, for the love of god-“

Your hands were shaking as it held the wheel, and nothing, not even the rain pattering onto the windshield would have calmed you. Everything happened just as fast as the rest of the night went on. And here you were, at the end, and you tripped just as you saw that very end of the dark tunnel.

“Y/N…” he said. And his voice a lot softer than it had been just then.

“Please, just talk to me.”

“We’ll talk. I promise you, we will-“

“I want to talk to you now-“

“You think you know what you want,” he said. “But you don’t. Give it time. You’ll change your mind.”

You slammed your fists against the wheel and the horn blew under the impact.

“You said you’d never make decisions for me-“

“If this is your decision, you need me to make it for you.”

So close. So close to driving away and leave him for the rest of forever.

But it wasn’t close enough.

You turned to the screen right by the car’s dashboard, pressed onto the button to turn on Bruce’s many trackers. There was a red dot.

‘No,’ you whispered. ‘No, you won’t.’

Jason:

“I’m sorry…” he pleaded. “I’m so sorry… but I promise you. Everything will get better.”

Up a rooftop, where he thought she’d never find him. It was hard to ignore the quake in his voice, his hands, how every word he spoke was like driving a knife down his throat, neck, and chest.

“No,” she screamed, and her cries hurt more than that very knife ever would. “It won’t. You’re a coward. What are you gonna do? Leave for another four months?”

“That’s not true.”

“Tell me it is!”

“Y/N.”

He let the skyline distract him, the buildings that soared up, higher than he could ever stand, then locked his eyes onto one of them so they wouldn’t defy him and break apart.

“Whatever it is you think is going on, it isn’t. I already told you how I felt. Why didn’t you just lis-“

Of course, she’d find him.

To be frank, even if it were one of the other safe houses he’s picked that wasn’t on any map of the city, she was bound to find him. He left her at Wayne Manor, for fuck’s sake.

The minute he heard her footsteps, coming in from entryway, he stopped talking, breathing even, and put his phone down. Trackers. Of course. Bruce had five of them on him at least.

He turned around.

“You actually fucking followed me-“

“Why?”

She wore the same thing from that night, the same suit he’d lustfully watched her take off, straps down those very shoulders, baring herself. Her hair, up in this beautiful mess, makeup no longer there and her face beautifully bare. Still a sight, she was, a sight he no longer wanted to get lost in.

“Why is this so hard for you-“

“Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?“

“Because, I-“

Every word out of him, a fire that couldn’t be put out. Flames uncontrollable, and his breath nothing but encouraging winds.

“Because you’re gonna wake up one day and realize I’m not any of my brothers… I was the one who never stood a chance,” he said. “No one would think you’d want me, out of the many other things you could have had. One day, you’re gonna realize that I’m not what you wanted-“

“I love you-“

God, it was everything he ever wanted to hear.

“You had Dick and Tim. They’ve loved you for so long… And you’re actually choosing the one guy who doesn’t?“

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

Another step forward from her. Another step back from him. He can’t stand too close or all this would be as close to the world’s slowest, most painful death.

“Nothing could have pointed you to me. Everything was telling you to-“

“For fuck’s sake, stop listening to everything else and just listen to me.”

A struggle at that.

But he’s never been so cold.

It wasn’t even from the wind from such a height, if there were any at all. But he was shivering, his teeth were gritting. Everything he said, he didn’t even mean. And all the more was it excruciating to hear himself say it all.

But he could listen. Even if it’d hurt. He’ll listen.

She was crying. To just reach over and hold her hand. He couldn’t even do that.

“Three years ago,” she whispered into the cold night air. “I was at the manor. Two weeks out of the hospital. I was just learning how to walk again but that day was hard on me. I couldn’t make a step. I was on my bed, and I was just staring at the ceiling because I couldn’t get out of it.”

It pained him all the more, when he knew nothing of what was to come to him, that all this was going to catch him before he’d even realize what it was.

“You never visit me at the manor but that day, you were there. I don’t even remember what for, but you stopped by and you caught me reading A Christmas Carol because it was the one book in my room that I actually liked. Because I couldn’t go down to the library and get more, and I didn’t want to ask from anyone.

“We ended up talking about Dickens. I didn’t know shit, but I remember you talking about him like he was your uncle and I just listened to you. I told you I liked reading his books. You said you’d bring me more when you’d come back. Three days later, you did. You got me Great Expectations.”

Great Expectations.

Why can’t he remember this?

“You left, and I read it that same night. That’s when I found a quote that you highlighted.”

Jason took a step back, away from her.

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

Everything. Everything that devastated, all suddenly came to place.

“The book was new. Store bought. The tag was still there. You bought it for me a day after you visited. Then you read it yourself and highlighted that quote.”

“How did you-“

“Remember that?”

She ignored the streaks down her skin, the droplets that fell down her neck.

“It was just a quote,” she shrugged. “It easily could have been nothing… but if I think of it differently now, it all makes so much sense.”

If he took another step back, he’d fall over the ledge.

He should have done that, now that she had walked close enough for him to get so lost into her face.

“If you loved me then,” you whispered. “Did you even know about it?”

This. This was worse than a fall.

He closed his eyes and everything fell through. The tears. The sobs. Everything. Because he did love her then. He’s always loved her since. But to admit it was close to writing his own death sentence.

This. This was death. And he’d happily jump back into that abyss.

“I didn’t want to believe it…”

You:

You reached for his face and for once, he welcomed it.

“If you tell me to leave right now,” you swallowed. “I’ll leave. I’ll never look for you again.”

Even if it hurts, even if I’ll have to live without you. If it’s what you want, I’ll let you go.

His hands found your wrists but it was to hold you, not to pry you away.

“Do you love me?”

It wasn’t in his words.

It was how he said yes that made you soar past the birds and the thin air from above.

It was when he finally took a step forward, to hold you in place, to keep you from falling apart and keep you so close, that acceptance of what truly went on, the love you’ve long known about and continued to believe in, even when he didn’t believe in it himself. It was there. It was what moved you. You could have fallen in from one of the many spaces above and still, you would end up in his arms.

“Of course, I do…“

Just as the sun rose, to greet you both into this morning anew. So new a life, waiting for you to come welcome it. And you welcomed it with the widest arms. He kissed you, so tender and real. Up where the city could see you, where you wanted to be seen, only to be with him.

Epilogue

Jason:

One box would have been enough for his clothes. He didn’t have much anyway. But as it turns out, leather jackets aren’t exactly as compact as he’d liked.

“Where do you want me to put these?!”

She was in the bathroom. He saw her peak her head out from the door to look at the jacket he was holding up.

“I set up a new closet for you!” she cried out, then she went back to brushing her teeth. “It’s beside mine!”

“Got it!”

He took the boxes of clothes, set it just outside the closet which he’ll definitely get into after he deals with everything else. Moving wasn’t something he liked doing, even when he’s moved around a single city so much before his lease would have allowed him to.

But, this new apartment, her apartment, covered in paint and canvases and rags all over the place that nipped at his neat freakiness he’d soon have to overcome, he might actually stick around.

“What about this!?”

He held up his box of books.

“I emptied a shelf for you, too! It’s next to my sketchbooks.”

“Sketchbooks, sketchbooks…”

Her sketchbooks were all over the fucking place.

He found that shelf, at least. Just enough for all his books. That is, if the paint cans above wouldn’t collapse.

“Do you clean up even just a little?”

“Shut up. It’s organized mess.”

“It’s always organized mess with you artists…”

“What?!”

“Nothing!”

She stepped out the bathroom, in nothing more than just a thin shirt and pajama shorts, then she watched him fumble with the last of his boxes.

“And, uh,” he coughed. “Can I put these somewhere?”

The look on her face, playfully annoyed as it was pleasantly unsurprised, she wanted to laugh that he’d resorted to storing his whole arsenal of weapons in a single cardboard box.

“That floorboard over there,” she pointed. “I loosened it up for you.”

“You’re a doll, pretty bird.” Jason put the box on the floor, ran up to her and grabbed her by her thighs, hoisting her whole thrashing body up his shoulder.

Her screams turned to laughter, then he spun her around, slammed her into her own bed like it was a wrestling ring and held her down with a headlock.

Everything he’s ever thought how this would have ended wasn’t so much of a fraction of how it went. Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

This was how it ended.

And he never wanted it to end.

-----

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venialsun · 3 years

Text

to begin with, take warning (2/3)

[read on ao3]

1 | 2 | 3

When Damian found his way to his first class of the day, having missed something called homeroom and the first ten minutes, the instructor shook his head playfully and made Damian introduce himself and explain what he had done over the summer. He could not say he had spent the past few months traipsing across the globe, hanging out with killers and thieves, and dying more often than not as he tried to escape the oppressive feeling that had descended upon Gotham after years of tragedies and increasing catastrophes. So he said he spent some time with his mother’s family on their private island, which was close enough, took a seat at the back of the room, and listened to his classmates reconnect with old friends and talk about their vacations and holidays with an increasing sense of annoyance.

The rest of the morning classes were no better. The teachers would guide the students through introductions and some small talk, go through their syllabus, and sometimes begin a lesson that Damian was entirely bored by. A few of his classmates tried to speak with him, asking him questions about his family, about himself, and smiling welcomingly at him, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk about that can of worms. He was not sure what he would say, how to spin his life into something half-truthful yet still benign. He’d never had to before. The rest of the students ignored him, and he was more than happy to ignore them right back.

By lunchtime, he was contemplating leaving and telling his Father he was done with this whole experiment. But Yanez’s yellow slip burned in his pocket, and Damian was not one to give up so easily. He would make it through the day, if nothing else.

The technology atrium was between the main academic building and the arts auditorium. A squat addition to the main building with walls made of glass and supported by steel beams, it stuck out like a sore thumb against the dark slate stones and high neo-Gothic arches and spires of the rest of Gotham Academy. Damian glowered as he neared and realized this was not only the technology atrium but, according to the placard over the main entrance, the Kenneth H. Wayne Technology Atrium.

Of course.

Inside, rows of computers and long tables encircled a central desk where a young woman sat typing at a laptop. She looked up as Damian approached and asked, “What’s up?”

Damian fished out the yellow slip and showed it to her. “Principal Yanez assigned me community tutoring or whatever.”

She took the slip and scanned it. “Already? Dang, kid, what’d ya do?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. Hold on. Let me pull her notes.” She busied herself clicking and scrolling, then paused. “Oh, wow. I see. Well, hi, Damian. Glad to have you. I’m Miss Daisy.” She handed him back the slip.

“Daisy?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Well, Miss Daskalakis, but I got tired of all you runts mispronouncing it.”

“Miss Daskalakis,” said Damian, exactly.

Daskalakis smiled. “That was pretty good, actually. Okay, in about ten minutes, we should have some of the PSAT and SAT kids show up for their first prep. Make yourself comfortable at one of the tables, eat some of your lunch, and when they show up I’ll introduce you and explain the rundown.”

“Lunch?”

“You brought something to eat, didn’t you? Or you can go pick something up at the cafeteria.” She glanced at her laptop. “There’s still time, and since it’s the first day, there’s no rush.”

Damian hesitated. “Principal Yanez said I was to report here.”

“We’re not going to make you skip lunch, Damian,” said Daskalakis. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. Here, what do you want?” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll message my assistant to bring you something. He should already be at the cafeteria.”

“Anything vegetarian,” he said.

Daskalakis gave him a thumbs up. “Got it.”

He went to sit at one of the long tables. Surreptitiously, he pulled out his phone to figure out what in the world the PSAT and SAT were supposed to be. He was puzzling his way through the most confusingly worded, backwards maths questions he had ever read, when the door opened. Damian glanced up and froze.

The red-headed boy at the entrance to the atrium also froze, eyes wide like he had seen a ghost.

“Colin!” called Daskalakis. “Hey, this is Damian. Thanks for grabbing lunch.”

“Colin,” Damian said.

“Damian,” said Colin Wilkes. “Oh, my god. Damian. Dude!”

“Do you two know each other?” asked Daskalakis.

“No,” said Damian, at the same time Colin said, “Yes.” Then Colin said, “No,” at the same time Damian said, “Yes.”

“Cool,” said Daskalakis, dragging out the oo. “Cool, cool, cool. Can you guys figure that out? We have, like, five minutes.”

Colin approached and deposited what looked like a rice dish with vegetables in front of him. “Um, this is for you. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you a taco bowl minus the taco.”

“Thanks,” said Damian, accepting the not-taco bowl.

“So.” Colin sat across from him. “Long time no see, huh.”

Damian snorted. “I’ve been busy,” he said.

“No shit. Your family has been freaking out for like the past six months, saying you’re missing and Robin went rogue or something. Then the old Robin came back. The Titans restarted. Then there’s video of another Robin sword-fighting crime all over the world. I assume that was you. Dude, I thought you were dead.”

“To be fair,” said Damian as he opened his taco bowl and mixed the ingredients, “I was. A couple of times. Doesn’t seem to stick.”

Colin laughed. “Your mom?”

Damian chuckled, startling himself. “Something like that. Though the first time was a few years back. I was—gone—for nearly a year, and my Father resurrected me with alien magic.”

“Sick. I remember that,” said Colin. “You dropped off the face of the earth. Didn’t come by the orphanage anymore or sneak out with me for patrols. People were saying Batman went crazy. I thought you just decided you didn’t want to hang out anymore.”

“I—” Damian spooned some rice into mouth. Chewed, swallowed. Colin looked at him throughout, unrelenting. “I didn’t ignore you deliberately. And then after I came back, things were so…”

Colin waved a hand and unwrapped a greasy slice of pizza. He took a bite. “It’s cool, man. You literally just told me you’ve died multiple times. Plural. I can get over my hurt feelings. Seems kind of trivial in comparison.”

Damian frowned and ate some more rice. Colin ate his pizza. Then Damian set his fork down, resolute, grip tight on the handle. As evenly as he could, he said, “I apologize for not being a better friend to you.”

“Whoa.” Colin’s eyebrows shot up. His expression pinched with worry as he searched Damian’s face. “What happened, man?”

Damian swallowed.

Then the door opened again, and an older boy—sixteen or seventeen—peaked inside and asked, “Is this SAT prep?”

“Sure is,” said Daskalakis from the central desk. She stood and indicated Damian and Colin to follow her. “Come in, come in, I’ll set you up right over here.”

Damian stood. “Later,” he said in an undertone. “I’ll explain later. I promise.”

“Okay,” Colin agreed. “But if you disappear on me again, this time I know where you go to school, so there’s no use hiding.”

“Have you known me to ever hide from anything?”

Colin smirked and said nothing.

Damian’s face felt suddenly warm. “Shut up,” he said. “We have work to do.”

•

Surprisingly, tutoring his fellow students was not the disaster he thought it would be. There was some initial skepticism from the upperclassmen about being tutored by a fourteen-year-old, but after Daskalakis declared him “a genius prodigy or something, according to Yanez,” that eventually quieted. It helped that though the PSAT and SAT problems and questions were simple enough, the wording and specificity grated on him, and soon he was insulting the intelligence of the College Board and standardized tests in general. That endeared him to the upperclassmen, and afterward the rest of the lunch hour passed without trouble.

Colin sidled up next to Damian as he gathered his materials to leave and showed him a crumpled-up piece of paper. “What’s your next class?” he asked. It was his schedule.

“Physical education,” said Damian. He had already memorized his own.

“Oh, really? Sweet. Me, too. We’ll go to PE together. I met Coach Freeman at the orientation. I think you’ll like her. What about after?”

Damian listed off his afternoon classes: physical education, then biology, then ancient rhetorics, and ending with a free study period. They shared no core classes, only homeroom, lunch, and physical education. Colin teased him for taking the honors track, and Damian started to complain that the classes were not interesting let alone challenging. But then he got sidetracked by wondering why Colin was somehow not in the honors track but still Daskalakis’s assistant for community tutoring (which, Damian insisted, was a dumb idea for punishments and an even dumber name). Colin laughed and explained he mostly helped with the younger kids. He said he was good with them, thanks to all the practice he’d had helping the nuns wrangle traumatized orphans and foster kids while growing up in the orphanage.

“After all that, spoiled rich kids are easy,” Colin said. He nudged Damian in the ribs. “It’s why we’re friends.”

“I thought that was because we both liked beating up on creeps a little too much,” said Damian, wry.

Colin grinned, and for a moment his face seemed to take on the grisly severity of Abuse—Venom-distorted and menacing. “That too.”

Physical education—“Just call it PE, dude,” Colin said—was a bore, more than Damian had anticipated. After changing into their gym uniforms and the requisite round of introductions, Coach Freeman set them on an obstacle course made up of rubber tires and colorful ropes. Damian was not impressed. But he remembered what his Father had said about damaging school property and refrained from destroying the so-called obstacles as he passed his struggling classmates and returned to Coach Freeman.

“What now?” he asked. To his frustration, he had hardly broken a sweat.

“Excuse me,” said Freeman. “Why aren’t you on the course?”

“I’ve finished it.”

“You’ve finished it?” Freeman checked the stopwatch hanging from her neck. “In slightly under six minutes? I don’t think so. Did you take a shortcut?”

“No,” said Damian. “It was easy.”

“Right. Well, if it was so easy, then hop to it. Do it again,” she said. “And this time, I’ll be watching you.”

“Weren’t you already supposed to be doing that?” asked Damian, but he did not argue further and restarted the course. It was better than doing nothing and standing around like an invalid, anyway.

This time he forced himself to go slower, aware he had done something abnormal. But it wasn’t his fault he was above this child’s play. He jogged the 100 meters to the start of course, climbed up the wooden incline, jumped down, belly-crawled under the mesh ropes, alternated jumps between tires then between wooden slats, climbed the rope to ring a bell, balanced across the too-wide beams, swung from bar to bar, and finished off by climbing over three wooden walls of increasing height. At the last wall, he paused and pulled a girl who had been struggling for the last two minutes up and over. Then he jumped down and high-fived Colin, who had finished his first runthrough. Going slower had forced him to focus the strain on his muscles, and the burn in his body and clarity of mind was starting to feel comforting and familiar.

He jogged back to Coach Freeman. “Shall I go again?”

She clicked her stopwatch and stared at it. Then she stared at him. “Slightly under eight minutes,” she said. “What’s your name, son?”

“I’m not your son.” He crossed his arms. “And name’s Damian. Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne, huh?” Freeman grinned. “Well, Mr. Wayne, Gotham Academy’s happy to have you. What’s your poison?”

“Pardon?”

“Your sport, Mr. Wayne. Your sport. Everyone’s got one. And if you don’t, not to worry. The Academy’s got a team for everything. You’ll be attending the end-of-day assembly, correct?”

“It is mandatory,” said Damian.

“Perfect,” said Freeman. “The main teams will be doing showcases there. Scope them out, see what you think. General tryouts are in two weeks, and I expect to see you there.”

Damian grimaced. “Do you now.”

Freeman nodded. “Sure do.” Then her attention drifted; her nose scrunched, she blew her whistle and screamed across the field, “You two, under the mesh! Keep your hands to yourselves! No one needs to see all that!”

•

The rest of the day passed quickly. He ran the course twice more, for the hell of it, alternating between pausing to help a classmate over a particularly difficult hurdle or shouting at them to hurry the hell up so Damian could finish already. He got used to the rhythm of it, the formula of general teacher attention interspersed with student social-play. By Ancient Rhetorics, he was an old hat at describing his incredibly fun island adventure halfway across the world and not scowling whenever anyone bemoaned their envy at the life of a rich socialite without responsibilities or true problems. He had even managed to hold a few short conversations with two or three of his classmates, though for the life of him he could not remember their names. A day of nothing but introductions had thoroughly fried his brain and prevented him from retaining anything more complicated than Jessica—because there did seem to be an awful lot of Jessicas.

His phone buzzed as the early bell rang and he merged into the streaming crowd of students heading for the auditorium for the back-to-school assembly.

It was a message from his Father:

Dinner tonight.

He frowned and tapped out a quick reply.

“Hey, Damian, over here!”

Damian looked up. Across the auditorium, Colin was surrounded by a group of teenagers and waving him over. Damian approached, pocketing his phone as he went. Then he paused and groaned when he recognized the small girl with yellow hair ribbons hovering excitedly between Colin and another group of older-looking students.

Fuck it. Damian ducked behind some large boys in jerseys and helmets—not hiding, per se, just utilizing his extensive array of evasive maneuvers to achieve a desired outcome—but it was too late. She had already spotted him.

“Oh my crap! Damian! You’re here?!”

Damian sighed and accepted his fate. With as much dignity as he had left, he emerged from behind the football team.

“Of course you two know each other,” he muttered.

“Huh?” said Colin.

“It is you!” exclaimed Maps Mizoguchi. “Olive, look who it is!”

From the group of older students, a girl with platinum blonde hair glanced over and, seeing Damian, scowled. “Oh,” said Olive Silverlock. “I did hear a Wayne was coming to Gotham Academy. Weren’t you expelled already?”

“You’ll find I’m hard to get rid of, Silverlock,” said Damian.

“Yanez is a softie, of course she let you back in,” continued Olive, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Hammerhead would’ve rather died.”

“You guys know each other?” asked Colin, looking concerned and glancing between them.

“No,” said Damian and Olive, at the same time Maps said, “Heck yeah! We’re all friends!”

“Doth mine ears deceive me? Did I hear Wayne—as in billionaire, more-money-than-I-would-know-what-to-with, bordering-on-unethical-wealth Wayne?” An older boy with sunglasses popped up behind Damian and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Good sir, might I interest you in—”

“Remove yourself from my person at once before I break your arm.”

The boy held up his hands and stepped away. “Got it, got it. No touchy. I can respect that,” he said. “So, Wayne, how do you feel about acquiring some fireworks for your own personal mischief?” He tilted his sunglasses down, conspiratorially. “At a discounted price, of course. Us trouble-makers have to stick together, y’know.”

“Quit it, Colton,” snapped Olive.

“Yeah,” laughed Colin. “That was Damian being nice.”

“You associate with these people?” Damian asked.

Colin shrugged. “I’m a part-time member of the Detectives Club.”

“Pizza club,” corrected Maps.

“The what.”

“Nerd club that solves school mysteries and shit,” said a girl from Colin’s group of younger students. She waved. “Hey, I’m Jess. Nice to meet you.”

Another fucking Jessica.

“Damian,” said Damian, putting up a hand in greeting.

This started another round of introductions and names he immediately deleted from his memory. Who knew Colin was so popular? It was the first day of school; he had not thought it was possible to align yourself with so many friends so quickly unless your name was Dick Grayson.

Slowly, both groups of younger and older students shuffled forward to their seats, helped along by the half-hearted encouragement of manic-looking adults. Somehow, Damian found himself squished between both groups, Colin on one side and Maps on another, as they chatted across him about summer and clubs and the teachers they already hated. Sensing an opportunity Damian told them of his run-in with Headmaster Hammer that morning, which triggered another round of commiserating laughter and louder complaints about what a hardass Hammerhead was—for they called the headmaster Hammerhead. Olive and Maps were the only ones to defend him, citing his one-man defense of the Academy when Joker had tried to take over the city two years ago.

“So?” said Damian. “Joker’s a bitch. He tries to take over the city all the time. That’s not impressive.”

By which a stuffy-looking blond boy in the row behind them became offended, scoffing, and Damian begrudgingly felt his respect grow for Colin’s friends as they immediately dog-piled on the boy for his shit opinion. Then no one could agree who of the Gotham rogues wasn’t a little bitch. And the argument devolved from there until Olive said Batman was a little bitch, too. Everyone laughed.

The lights dimmed. An off-key note rang out as the school band warmed up, and Headmaster Hammer and Principal Yanez stepped on stage.

Slowly in fits and starts, the auditorium quieted, and the assembly began.

next ->

#spades #fic #damian wayne #colin wilkes #olive silverlock #maps mizoguchi #dc

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fancyfade · 3 years

Text

so ive been debating editing chapter 3 on my fanfic to make 1 scene line up more from canon. (chapter 3 is this one, where the characters deal with the aftermath of battle for the cowl, Tim finds out Damian’s Robin, and Dick and Damian move to the penthouse)

I’m debating making the Tim finding out Damian’s Robin scene a little more canon compliant along what happened in Red Robin (link) for a few reasons, the main of which is in the scenes that I’m writing next (like... chapter 47 lol), Tim and Dick do have to talk about what transpired when Dick made Damian Robin. Potential reasons for change

In my fic Tim kind of just left on his own without a push, but I’m not sure if Tim would have left on such bad terms if there wasn’t the complication of Damian antagonizing him and him feeling as if Dick was picking Damian over him (even though in the comic we saw Dick trying to de-escalate and get Tim’s back, it still felt that way to Tim)

I dislike the way some of this was handled in the comic and I can’t really comment on it in my fic if I just retcon it out

it seems fair-er I guess if Tim is allowed to have flaws just like Cass and Damian and Dick all have flaws in this fic. i know many tim stans think otherwise, but punching a ten-year-old victim of child abuse in the face out of anger is wrong.

the con side is obviously this involves Damian getting hit and that kid has been through so much already. I’m really trying to figure out how it works with character dynamics vs like. give the poor kid a break-ness.

anyway if I did decide to replace the current chapter 3, this is what it would be replaced with (only the first scene, the second would be the same). If you are a reader of the fic feel free to leave your comments. I would do an “oh and I edited chapter 3″ note before the relevant stuff was mentioned if I go through with this, I wouldn’t like expect everyone to know what happened. Some of the dialogue is not like exactly like in canon (cuz thats boring and also to match with what I wrote the first time) but the feeling/ beats should be similar

Gotham’s finally had a bit of lull in the violence, and Dick is just wondering how he’s going to do this.

He’s accepted that Damian’s his responsibility – seeing the kid shot in the chest made that perfectly clear, as much as he would’ve liked it to be otherwise. He felt like he was way too young to be watching out for a kid in any capacity other than cool older brother, especially a kid who’s as difficult to get along with as Damian. He was a great fighter, of course, and he knew it – Dick’s not sure he’s ever heard the kid be humble about anything. To make things worse, Dick feels like he’s constantly stuck in the middle between Damian and the kid he actually views as his younger brother – Tim, who Damian tried to kill. Evidence in point:

“Robin?!” Tim asks once he’s gotten back on his feet and Dick's explained his plan – away from Damian, who's still recovering from surgery.

“You made Damian Robin?!” Tim asks again.

Dick sighs. He’s in the cave, in a Batman costume he feels doesn’t fit right at all with the cowl off, and Tim’s still in his regular clothes. He has no idea how to explain this to Tim – no idea how to make him feel like he’s not being replaced. Dick never wanted to be the one doing the replacing – he remembers how much it hurt to find out that Jason was Robin from the papers, and that was after he officially stopped being Robin. Tim never quit – and Dick’s not about to make him – but he has to come home to the guy who tried to kill him getting his name.

“Tim, I know this looks bad, but Damian needs this.”

“Remember when we thought Bruce was going to retire after Crisis?” Tim asks. “Batman and Robin was supposed to be us. You and me. Not you and the psychopath that tried to kill me.”

“Tim, you’re not my sidekick, you’re my partner – ” Dick takes a step towards Tim with his hand out, prepared to offer sympathy, but Tim shakes him off angrily.

“Obviously not!”

“And Damian needs me way more than you do. If we don’t keep an eye on him, he’s going to kill again.”

Tim scowls intensely. “That should really not be an endorsement for being Robin, Dick! He’s a killer! He belongs in jail!” Tim swallows a little and then lowers his voice out of shouting range. “Dick, he didn’t try to kill me because he for some reason thought it was the only way to stop me from doing something bad, as far as I can tell he just wanted to replace me. We’re talking about someone with absolutely no sense of right or wrong.”

“Of course he doesn’t have a sense of right or wrong. He’s a ten-year-old child who was raised as an assassin from birth!”

“Lots of our villains have really sad or sympathetic reasons for doing crime, that doesn’t mean we team up with them.”

“Are you serious?” Dick asks. “This isn’t the same, Tim.”

“How not?”

“Well for one,” calls Damian's voice from the stairs, and Dick can't help but cringe and think not now – “I'm a lot better than them.”

Dick's cringe only intensifies when he turns around to see what Damian is wearing. His new Robin costume.

Tim's hands clench into fists the instant he sees Damian. Dick knows he has to de-escalate things quick before Tim and Damian have another fight.

“Damian,” Dick says, trying to keep himself carefully neutral-sounding. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

Damian lifts his head up slightly so his nose is in the air, and walks down the stairs almost normally. There's only a little hesitation in the twist of his torso, a little stiffness of his right arm.

Either he's zoned out of his mind on painkillers or depressingly good at masking his pain for a ten-year-old.

“Please,” Damian says. “I was trained in the League of Shadows. Do you really think an over-the-hill ex-Robin could put me down?”

Tim's fist clenches further, and so Dick says, letting a bit more urgency slip into his voice, “Damian, shut up. Now.”

Damian puts his left hand on his hips and looks intentionally at Tim. He adds, “I'm not Drake – ”

He's barely got the word out before Tim leaps forward and punches him in the face. Dick's out of his seat, grabbing Tim to hold him back, who is still distressingly struggling against him, like he wants to keep up the assault despite the fact that Damian fell to the floor.

“My name is Tim Wayne!” Tim shouts as Dick is still holding him back.

Damian gingerly sits up. Dick prepares to release Tim, prepares to stop Damian if he has to, if he decides to get revenge. But he doesn't. He just briefly braces his right side with his left hand before wiping the blood off his face.

“I let you get that shot in, Drake,” Damian says, again dropping intentional emphasis on Tim's original last name.

As he does, Tim struggles forward.

“Tim, back off!” Dick says, because Tim still isn't cooling down –

“I want you to feel good about yourself,” Damian continues.

Tim seems to relax his stance slightly, so Dick, possibly in an error of judgment, lets Tim go. But Tim doesn't try to attack Damian again, he just shakes Dick off and starts stomping away. “You want me to back off? Fine.”

He's going for the exit.

If he leaves –

Dick can't chase him. He's not sure that he can leave Damian alone –

“Tim, wait!” Dick says, taking a step forward. “Bruce is gone. But I still need you.”

“For what?” asks Damian and damn it is there anything this kid isn't going to try to ruin?

“Shut up, Damian,” Dick says again, even though as far as he knows he's just going to wind up pushing Damian away too –

And Tim leaves.

Dick turns to look at Damian. The kid's already back to his feet, like nothing happened, and Dick takes a step forward to inspect the injury – though he's really more worried about the gunshot wound than Tim's punch. Both Tim and Damian had wound up injured pretty badly during the chaos that gripped Gotham in the rumors of Batman’s death. As his new and not-improved version of Batman, Jason had tried to kill them both, which Dick is way less than pleased about. He’d been kind of hoping that they could talk Jason down, but this seems like a line he doesn’t know if Jason can ever un-cross. He shot a ten year old in the chest.

Damian grabs Dick's wrist as he reaches out.

“Are you all right?” Dick asks.

Damian scoffs. “You're worried about Drake? I've been hit harder sparring my mother.”

“I was thinking about the gunshot.” Alfred had said the primary damage was blood loss and a punctured lung (well, traumatic pneumothorax, but Dick knew what he meant) and given the kid a minimum of four weeks downtime to heal.

It's hard to tell due to the domino mask, but Damian adopts the position of a kid who's rolling their eyes, head slightly tilted to the side with a loll. “It's not enough to impersonate Batman, now you want to impersonate my mother?”

Dick doesn't know how to approach the mother thing, so he doesn't even try. He just explains the logic for being Batman – (and there is logic behind it. It's not like he wanted this). “Someone has to step up and convince Gotham things can get back to normal,” Dick says. “And serial killer Batman wasn't going to cut it.”

“Did you at least take care of him?” Damian asks.

Dick knows that Damian isn't actually worried about Jason's wellbeing, so he says, “Do you mean 'did I kill him'?”

“Tt. Obviously.”

“Obviously not.”

Damian presses his lips together in a thin line.

Dick might as well get this out of the way now. He's going to have to sometime. “Alfred wants you out of the field for four weeks.”

“That's preposterous!” Damian shouts, and as he shouts, he coughs. He rubs his chest quickly and then glowers at Dick when he sees him staring.

“Damian, you could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Jeez, doesn’t this kid have any sense of his own mortality? Though, Dick supposes, growing up around Lazarus Pits and a centuries old grandfather might make that impossible.

“I’m not a fool, Grayson, I know I’m not capable of healing instantaneously. I’ll take a break for one week,” he offers, like it’s a huge concession on his part.

“Four weeks,” Dick says.

“What about you?” Damian asks. “Didn’t you get injured?”

“Not as badly.”

“Are you taking a break?”

“Someone needs to convince Gotham that Batman’s not dead,” Dick says. Also, he doesn’t want to take a break. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Losing Bruce. Failing Tim.

“Tt. Then I don’t need one either. I’m younger. I heal faster.”

Dick actually has no clue whether that’s true, because he’s not a doctor, but he knows that people usually say kids heal faster.

Dick swings his arms a little, trying to feel them out. They’re still stiff, and as they move, a jolt of pain shoots through him. Even when he’s not moving, his shoulder is still sore. He knows that he might get injured going into the field like this and that it’s not a smart decision – last time he went into the field while still healing, he wound up blowing his secret identity to Blockbuster.

He decides that at least if he’s going into the field, he won’t tell Barbara and Alfred about it. Okay, so that’s probably not the smartest of his plans. Most plans that you have to hide from people who care about you aren't smart.

“I’ll take a week long break with you,” Dick concedes. “And we can see how fast you’re healing.” The second part is a lie, of course. He's not going to supersede Alfred's orders on medical matters.

Dick sighs a little. He figures that while they’re both on bed-rest duty, though, he can try to figure out how to set things up so they can operate effectively once they get a clean bill of health.

“How do you feel about not living in the manor?” Dick asks.

“Kicking me out already?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I wouldn’t be living here either,” Dick says. It’s true. He’d rather not feel like he’s living in all of Bruce’s old places, wearing Bruce’s old costume, … replacing him, essentially. He needs a place he can clear his head.

“Where would you live then?” Damian asks skeptically.

Dick shrugs. “The penthouse, maybe. Bruce already made a bunker nearby, so we could operate out of there pretty easily.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Why do you keep saying ‘we’?”

Because you are ten and not ready to live on your own. But Dick just says, “Well, you’re Robin now, right? That means you’re pretty much obligated to team up with Batman.”

“Batman isn’t here, Grayson. He never will be again, no matter how much you play dress-up.”

Charming kid. Like Dick didn’t already know that.

“You know I operate effectively alone, right?” Damian continues. “I don’t need to be hand-held and babysat like all of Father’s previous partners.”

Dick figures that it’d be a jerk move to remind Damian he just almost died and therefore really shouldn’t be on his own. Instead, he says, “Well, Alfred’s staying with me, so unless you want to get all your food and clean the house by yourself, you have to put up with me.”

“Tt . I don’t need a servant. I’ll just eat at restaurants.”

“On who’s money?”

“In the event of his death, my father’s assets should have transferred to me. His blood son.”

Oh boy. Dick rubs his face. “Does this have to be a thing, Damian? No one’s doubting your capacity to take care of yourself but I think it’d really be easier if we were operating out of the same building. “

A long silence on Damian’s part. “Fine,” he says eventually. “I’ll allow you to stay at my penthouse.”

My penthouse. Of course. But Dick takes it. “All right,” he says. “Let’s move in.”

#idk even #to my followers #my fanfic #dc comics #dc fanfic #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Colony of Gotham (7/7)

The Colony of Gotham is an urban legend that is whispered about in the dangerous city. It’s said the Colony is a family of demons and spirits that stalk the night, hunting for the souls of the guilty.

When Bruce became Batman, he’d never intended to be mistaken for a demon. He was happy to lean into it, though, and as he gained his partners – as his family grew – they all followed suit.

First Part ~ Previous Part

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

Once Tigress had escorted Flash and Young Justice to the Watchtower and had calmed everyone down, she explained that the Colony was not, in fact, malevolent.

She told them that the family was simply territorial of the area they protected. Their actions had just been them making their point in their typical chaotic and playful way. She and Flash had encountered some of the Colony the night before and after assuring them they would continue to keep their business out of the city, the bats and birds had agreed to a truce. The Flash's kidnapping was just Flash wanting to get in on the joke. He was meant to show up that night with a figurative olive branch from the Colony, but then Young Justice had rushed in and the Colony reacted in kind by capturing them. They then informed Flash so he and Tigress could return them. The team was reprimanded for rushing in without backup and Flash was given extra monitor duty as punishment for his trick. He accepted it graciously, having expected it.

When they made it back to Gotham, Dick explained Damian’s past to Artemis and Wally. The latter was not pleased to discover the young boy he’d been teasing and calling cute for years was an assassin.

“He might be a former assassin, but he’s still adorable.”

“No, Dick, you don’t call people who can and will slit your throat if you upset them adorable. You could have warned me! I nearly died!”

“A lot,” Jason added from off to the side where the rest of Dick’s siblings were watching the show with popcorn.

“Damian wouldn't have actually killed you,” Dick argued.

“Maybe just maimed you a little. But hey, you heal fast.”

“Not helping Tiny Jay,” Dick hissed as Wally pointed at Tim and nodded.

“Maimed! I could have been maimed! Just because I heal fast doesn’t mean getting maimed doesn’t hurt!”

“Dami never meant to kill. Dami only meant to maim or seriously injure,” Carrie croaked from right behind the speedster, causing him to jump with a shriek.

“No voice filters in the manor,” Dick huffed at her before turning to his siblings as a whole. “Guys, please stop traumatizing my partners!”

Artemis, who until this point had been pinching the bridge of her nose, looked up with a murderous expression. “YOU STARTED IT!”

When Bruce and Selina returned from their honeymoon, the kids explained what had happened.

Bruce would never admit it, but he was proud of how the kids handled the situation. They ensured the other teams wouldn’t interfere in Gotham and limited the amount of information that got out about them to people who were already trusted. That said, he would have preferred they had taken the situation more seriously, which he made sure they knew.

No matter how amusing the recordings Barbara had shown him of the heroes’ reactions were.

He also would have preferred no information got out about them, but he knew it was only a matter of time for those who did find out. Young Justice was just a little too invested in Tim’s wellbeing, not that he was complaining, so they were sure to notice something eventually. As for Wally and Artemis, he’d been waiting for this since they’d found out the family’s other secret.

Selina had bet the engagement announcement would happen first, but he knew Dick wouldn’t have agreed without all secrets coming to light first.

He was a little less forgiving of the rest of the kids taking this as permission to tell their friends.

He wasn’t too annoyed with Damian as Jon had already suspected there was something different about the family (he was too much like his mother) and he mostly excused Stephanie and Bette seeing as Cassie already knew, which meant they were more likely to mess up in the group chat. He didn’t say anything to Barbara, partly because she wasn’t really his (no matter how much he cared for her) and partly because she’d somehow managed to convince Hank and Dawn she was still a demon.

He did have talks with Dick, Jason, and Carrie though. Kory might have been a friend of the family for longer than Jason had been a member (as Dick had been quick to point out in his defense), but they hadn’t been as close since the breakup. Artemis Grace tended to be a wild card in regards to her loyalties and her team had a looser grasp on the law then most others in their business (Jason took offense to this, of course, even if he didn’t object). As for Traci, they simply didn’t know her (No, Carrie, a two day round trip does not give you plenty of time to know a person. No, I don’t care if you managed to convince her you were a demon. Barbara’s situation is different!).

There was a bright side to this, though. The mix of information that the heroes had ended up causing a few amusing situations.

One such situation came up a few months later when Tim, Stephanie, and Bette were hanging out with their friends at Mount Justice. Bette offhandedly mentioned to Cissie that Damian’s mother was part of “the League” right before the three Gothamites got called away. This resulted in Cissie, who thought the Robins were human, gossiping with Roy, who thought Robin was a demon, about how “Batman totally knocked up someone in the JL and Robin’s the result.” This resulted in Oliver, who’d been eavesdropping, ending a League meeting by asking if anyone knew who’d spawned the Bloody Robin. The information reached anyone even remotely connected to the League within twenty-four hours.

The Colony just sat back and watched the accidental chaos, obviously.

The most common theory was Wonder Woman, though no one was willing to suggest it anywhere she might hear. One of Hawkgirl’s past lives was also a popular theory, and she was horrified when she realized she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t true.

It came to a head when the Titans decided to have a get together of current and former Titans and Teen Titans. Guests were allowed, so Kory and Roy invited Artemis Grace and Bizarro. Assuming the event would be boring and wanting to either have someone who would lighten it up or be bored with her, Artemis only agreed to come if Red Hood came too. To the horror of everyone not in the know, Kory not only agreed, but decided to extend the invite to all the younger members of the Colony.

Nightwing and Robin arrived first with Tigress and Flash, the older bird arm in arm with Tigress while the younger was sitting on Flash’s shoulders. Both gave too wide grins as they waved at the Titans and Teen Titans who were already gathered. Robin dropped limply off Flash’s shoulders and hit the ground in a roll before running off to drape herself over Thirteen.

Batgirl, Hawkfire, and Lark arrived next with Cassie and Donna, to the latter’s obvious discomfort. They were quickly joined by Cissie and Kara as Donna went off to greet her friends. Batgirl took great joy in disappearing and reappearing around the room, while Lark took great joy in selling her out every chance he got since he could always see where she was. Hawkfire was equally thrilled to use the voices of anyone who got near, having made sure to study up on as many people who’d be at the party as possible so she could mimic their voices.

The rest of Young Justice arrived shortly later with Superboy, Corvid, and Robin. The last surprised most of the people who’d already been there, until they realized Robin was no longer at Thirteen’s side despite many being sure she’d been there only a second before. Throughout the party Robin seemed to disappear from Thirteen’s side, only to reappear across the room at Superboy’s within a second. Some even swore they’d seen Robin in two places at once, but no one was ever sure. Meanwhile Corvid’s speech pattern had him sticking close to a member of the Colony or Kory so they could translate for him.

No one was exactly sure when Black Bat and Bluebird arrived. They were simply there, hovering around some of the others or hidden off in a corner. No one ever seemed to notice Black Bat come or go between groups either. She always seemed to just be there.

Pythia had been there from the beginning, but she mostly just kept to herself, watching and listening through the cameras, until Hawk and Dove arrived. Then she whispered at them through the nearest speaker. This meant the two mostly stayed off to the side on their own, but neither felt any need to complain.

Roy, Artemis, Bizarro, and Red Hood arrived after the party was already in full swing with no reason for being late other than a joke from Roy about being fashionable. Red Hood had a similar experience to Corvid, though Kory could not translate for him while Artemis and Bizarro could. Artemis had placed a comm into her ear for the occasion, but not even the Colony could explain how Bizarro managed to always know what Red Hood was saying.

Despite the Colony’s eccentricities, the party went smoothly.

Until someone brought up Robin’s heritage, at least.

The Robin with Thirteen snickered when she heard and disappeared into the shadows. Corvid, who had also been near, shook his head and let her slip under his cape as he headed towards where Kon and Lark were talking.

The debate began to spread until Beast Boy huffed and turned to Bluebird. “So who popped out the demon spawn?”

The room fell silent and a few people gave him terrified expressions before glancing at the Colony. The shapeshifter squirmed, not having meant for his voice to be as loud as it was.

The thing was, every Robin had been referred to as a demon spawn at multiple points in their lives, and Black Bat had had the title thrown at her a few times too. As such the group couldn’t help themselves.

With eerie synchrony, Dick, Stephanie, Bette, Duke, Damian, and Carrie all answered, “My mom.”

Most noticed that Jason, Tim, and Cass had all answered as well in growls, trills, and sign language respectively, which only added to the confusion or horror everyone in the room was feeling.

Those who knew the group to be the Wayne family and associates were confused about why they had all answered, and why answer like that as they had thought their friends had separate mothers. Didn’t they? Those who knew they were not actually demons were also thrown by how the group had managed to speak as one.

Meanwhile those who knew nothing were terrified as they came to the incorrect conclusion that a member of the Justice League had somehow managed to spawn most of the Colony without anyone finding out.

The Colony refused to say any names, but otherwise most of them were happy to answer questions about their mother. This really only managed to confuse people more, however. Especially when people would get conflicting answers. That was near always, really, as Nightwing was describing his mother; Red Hood was describing Catherine Todd; Corvid was switching between his mother and Selina; Batgirl was switching between her mother, Kate, Selina, and Talia (the middle two purely for the amusement and the last for the looks she’d get from Robin whenever he caught her at it); Hawkfire was describing her mother; Black Bat was just gesturing for Bluebird to describe her own mother; Lark was describing his mother; and both Robins were describing Selina (though Damian would later state it was purely for the consistency with his fellow Robin).

It was only after the party when the Colony, Young Justice, Tigress, Flash, Starfire, Artemis, Arrowette, Supergirl, Superboy, and Thirteen retreated to the cave that anyone got a real answer.

“Oh, Dami’s mother is from the League of Assassins, not the Justice League. There must have been a mix up somewhere.”

Surprisingly, this did not bring relief to anyone. Especially when they found out his mother was none other than Talia al Ghul.

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

One calm day, Artemis dragged her partners down to the cave’s sparring mats so she could see what Dick could do firsthand. He did not disappoint as he quickly pinned Wally.

“Well, this explains why Jade seems to like him so much,” the speedster muttered from his place facedown on the mat.

Artemis frowned as Dick sat next to their boyfriend, patting his back. “Wait… Oh my God, Dick! You sa-Is tea code for getting your butt kicked by my sister?”

Dick looked up with a sheepish grin. “No, tea is code for kicking your sister's butt.”

“You…”

He shrugged. “In her defense, she wasn’t expecting someone with my level of training. The fight would have been much closer if she had been.”

Wally looked up with wide eyes. “Hold on, she actually tried to kill you then?”

Dick gave Artemis a look. “You probably should have told her we were together. She thought Wally had cheated on or dumped you. I thought it was actually kind of sweet, really, but Bruce was ticked when he found out and I think Jason was considering hunting her down.”

Artemis threw her hands in the air and marched off. She dug her phone out of her pocket.

“‘Ello?” Jade’s sleepy voice answered.

“You tried to kill my boyfriend!”

“Oh, you found out about that?”

“Why didn't you tell me he could fight? And well enough to defeat you.”

“You didn’t know? Why did you think I approved? I don’t approve of the speedster and he has powers. He really needs to learn how to fight without relying on them.”

Artemis could admit she had a point on both fronts, but wouldn’t admit it. “Dick’s sweet and charming. I swear if he had a superpower it would be making friends. I just thought he’d made you like him.”

“Yes. By being a competent fighter. Although if he’s going around bragging about defeating me I might need to teach him a lesson, being brothers with an al Ghul or not.”

“Wait, you knew about his brother being Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson too?” Artemis choked.

“You really need to pay more attention to who you’re dating.”

“Who’s dating the brother of an al Ghul?”

Artemis blushed. “Is that Roy? Are you two still together?”

“It’s complicated. And before you freak out, we were just sleeping when you called. Actually sleeping.” Quieter, likely from holding the phone away, she heard Jade say, “Artemis is. Her little Gotham squeeze has league connections.”

“Jade,” Artemis hissed.

“League. You mean Damian? Of course he’s… Hold on!” There was some static and then Roy was talking directly into the phone. “I’m coming to Gotham.”

“No.”

He came to Gotham. He showed up right on the porch of Wayne Manor hours later looking more excited than she’d seen him in years.

“Please tell me Damian Wayne is who I think he is,” he said as soon as she marched up to where he was waiting outside. “Please tell me he is because I need to know if everyone has been freaking out thinking Robin’s the kid of Wonder Woman when he’s actually Talia al Ghul’s spawn.”

“Please tell me you didn’t ditch my sister to come here,” she shot back, glancing around to be sure her sister wasn’t hiding in any shadows.

“She took off after we had morn-”

“Nope. Shut up.”

“So is he?”

Artemis glanced over her shoulder to see Wally and Dick watching. Dick shrugged and she sighed. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m not ruining it. So Jason is Hood.”

“Yes.”

“And Dick is -”

“Yes.”

“This is amazing.”

“If you get yourself shot don’t come crying to me.”

“I’d die happy. You haven’t heard the things Ollie and Dinah have been saying. This is the best inside joke I’ve ever heard and I hate you for keeping it from me.”

“I only found out after the Titan party last week.”

“That’s an entire week where you kept me out of the loop.”

“You want to come in for food or are you going to go track down my brother?” Dick called.

Roy shrugged and they started for the door before his eyes widened and he glanced between the three. “So that stuff about Flamebird?”

“He was just messing around to tease Wally and freak out the League. Just like everything he and his family have done since Zatanna dragged them into the spotlight. That’s how I realized he was Nightwing. They are exactly the same level of troll.”

“I love everything about this.”

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

“Are you sure?” Dick asked.

“Absolutely not,” Wally said, but grabbed the blood bar Dick was holding out anyway.

“If you don-

“We’re fine,” Artemis said, grabbing her own bar. “Wally’s just whining like usual.”

“I’m just saying, we have no idea how this will affect me.”

“Duke’s a meta and he was fine.”

“He’s not connected to the Speed Force.”

Dick reached forward to grab Wally’s bar. “You don’t have to -

“I want to,” Wally said, jerking the bar away, grabbing Dick’s hand with his free one. “I do. I’m just nervous.”

“As per usual,” Artemis teased and kissed the speedster's cheek. Dick stepped closer and she kissed him as well before pulling the wrapper off her bar. She met their eyes, then took a bite.

She began to sway as she finished it so Dick helped her over to the bed. All the while Wally tossed his bar between his hands. He pulled it open and frowned down at it.

Dick pulled him to the bed once Artemis was settled. “It’s alright if you want to back out. Neither of us would blame you.”

Wally shook his head and sat down. “I want this, I do. I just can’t stop thinking about what could go wrong. Like, what if my body already burned through whatever it is that’s supposed to turn me.”

Dick cocked his head and slipped into his lap. He leaned down to nuzzle Wally’s neck, earning a sharp intake. “I can bite you while you eat it. Then your body won’t have time.”

The speedster shivered and swallowed. His free hand came up to card through Dick’s hair as he gave a quick nod.

Smiling, Dick peppered a few teasing kisses across his jugular before biting down.

Wally shivered again and melted into Dick for a moment before bringing the bar up and taking a bite. He finished it off quickly as Dick pulled away.

“It doesn’t taste like blood,” he said with a frown, tossing aside the wrapper as he licked his lips. “I don’t know what it tastes like, but it isn’t blood.”

“That means it’s working,” Dick said.

“Really?”

“You think Stephanie would have downed an entire bottle of blood by accident if she could taste it the same way a human does?” Dick pressed a kiss to the corner of Wally’s mouth. “Blood has a special flavor to us unlike anything else.”

Wally hummed and kissed Dick until his mind started to fog up. Dick helped him lay back then covered him up when the fever took him.

The bird took a moment to just stare down at the two, his thumb brushing the band on his left ring finger.

It was made from strips of black and gold titanium twisted together with rubies peaking through the cracks. It matched the one on Artemis’s hand, gifts from their wonderful fiancé.

Dick gave both a quick peck then left them to rest.

Things were sure to get crazy soon enough, especially once the announcements went out, but for now, Dick would revel in the calm and the feeling of family.

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

Vampires’ animal forms:

Artemis: North American cougar

Wally: Vizsla dog

#batman #batfam #colony of gotham #fanfiction

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withthekeyisking-writer · 4 years

Note

What’s a Batman story you wish someone else would write for you instead of writing yourself??

Gotta tell you, I got super excited when I got this ask, because there are so many things!! That I would love to see happen!! That I’ll never get around to writing!! So uh, strap in because this is gonna be a big ol’ list :) I’m gonna organize these so that it starts with gen ideas and then switches to darker ones (otherwise, really in no particular order). Also, because it’s me, many of these are Dick-centric.

1. First up is a Batfam Hogwarts AU, but with the specifications that Dick is a Slytherin, Jason is a Ravenclaw, Tim is a Slytherin, and Damian is a Hufflepuff. Skalidra actually made an amazing post about this that I agree with so fucking much, and I want a fic that does this justice.

2. Batbros are actually blood bros. I know there are a couple of these already out there, but not the way I picture it in my head, so here you go: Bruce knows about Dick while the kid is growing up, visits the circus any time it’s in town, takes Dick out for ice cream & shit like that, but Dick thinks this is just some family friend his parents like him hanging out with. It’s not until Mary and John fall that Dick learns the truth about his parents. For Tim – Janet never really wanted a kid, so when she and Bruce sleep together (up to you to figure out why) and got pregnant, she was like “okay brucie as soon as this pops out you can keep it” which, once Tim was born, Bruce did. Jason can go so many ways, so up to you!

3. Transgender Dick!! Yes, these are already out there. Yes, I want so many more! Give me the struggle of coming to the realization while amongst Gotham’s high society. Give me extra supportive Bruce or a Bruce that just can’t wrap his head around the concept and absolutely fails to be in any way a good parent of a trans kid. Or take the extra step and give me a non-binary Dick!!! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one of those, and as an enby individual, I really would love to.

4. Jason as a teacher. Do whatever the fuck you want with that, but I want to see Jason teaching literature. Still in the superhero world, no alternate world where Batman isn’t a thing. I want a Jason who’s been Robin and died and come back and been Red Hood and is a teacher.

5. I had a dream about Dick being a clone, and then an idea popped up behind it: In the Young Justice cartoon world, the Light makes another clone of Superman. But this time, the human DNA they used to stabilize the Kryptonian part isn’t Lex Luthor’s DNA, but Batman’s! That Superman-Batman clone is Dick. While Conner gets rescued by the YJ team, Dick (or whatever title CADMUS gave him, like how Conner was just called “The Superboy”) isn’t found, and is trained to fight against the team of young heroes as the Light’s weapon. Dick gets captured eventually and Bruce&Clark find out about their clone baby. Throw in some Superbat if you feel like it, or just Two Bros And A Baby. Either way, I would kill for this.

6. Ok you know how at one point or another Damian, Jason, and Cass were all members of the League of Assassins? Well, what if there was overlap? I want the three of them working for the League and knowing each other. I don’t know if this even works out at all but I just think this would be kinda cool, especially if it includes Bruce finding out about Damian or about Jason being alive and gaining a daughter along the way.

7. While we’re on the subject of League of Assassins, all four of the boys work for the League!! Do with this what you will, I merely present the concept to you.

8. Secret Agents. Just…just give me them as spies. Pls.

9. Dead Robins Club that ACTUALLY INCLUDES DICK BECAUSE Y’KNOW HE DIED. It’s a pet peeve of mine, when people write these kind of fics and include Tim and Steph (neither of which actually died) but not Dick, even though he did die for at least a couple minutes. Please stop ignoring Dick’s trauma guys, I beg of you. There’s one amazing fic between Jason, Damian, and Dick, and I want so many more of stuff like that.

10. Greeks/Roman Gods AU where Dick is the God of Death and king of the Underworld instead of the springtime god. There’s a really great jaydick fic out there that has this, but it’s abandoned, and I rally really want more of a Dick like this.

11. AU in which Bruce is the youngest member of the Justice League, and is still the badass leader he is in canon. No one in the League knows the truth, but it’s not like Bruce ever said I’m in my 20s or older, he just. Never mentioned he just graduated high school and is working on his accelerated bachelor’s degree.

12. A fic that addresses the fact that Dick has, in canon, been buried alive. I might one day write this, but I have a lot of projects that I do know I’m going to write, so this is wayyyyyyyyyyyy down the line, long enough that I’d be very happy to see someone write it instead. Bonus points if it’s a fic about Dick and Jason, and the fact that Dick killed Joker also comes up.

13. Tamaranean!Dick. And I actually have a whole word/plot for something like this that I’m never gonna write so if you wanna do this hmu I have THOUGHTS

Ok boys and girls and enbys we’re about to hit the dark shit so turn back if you don’t want to have to read it. You’ve been warned.

14. Ancient Rome AU in which Bruce is a senator and owns his robins as slaves (gladiator-wise and otherwise) who try to earn their freedom but Bruce likes using them too much (both for himself and in gaining control over others, like sending one of them to seduce somebody to gain leverage or steal something or what have you) and so he keeps changing what will gain them their freedom.

15. Auction fic where Dick is drugged and kidnapped and auctioned off to a bunch of villains. Yes, fics like this exist. Yes, I would like Many More.

16. Brusladick where Bruce has some Bad Thoughts about Dick but can’t bring himself to act on them, but he wouldn’t mind letting someone else do it, and who better than Slade Wilson, who absolutely wants to fuck Dick. So Bruce sets up a camera in the room and gets off to all the hard shit being done to Dick, but Slade breaks their agreement a little and tells Dick that Bruce is watching.

17. In an ABO universe, Dick is an omega. The world is pretty modern overall, of course there will always be some level of sexism but it’s not a large issue. But there’s this far-right terroristic-type group that thinks omegas are just good for ding as they’re told and being bred and have made it their mission to “fix” omegas who think they deserve equal rights, and they get ahold of Dick, sending a video to Bruce saying they’re return Dick when he’s better. For some reason Bruce and Co can’t find Dick for a long time, and by the time they do Dick’s severely traumatized and been conditioned into obedience and submission towards alphas.

18. In the Young Justice cartoon world, while Kaldur is undercover in season 2, an interaction with Deathstroke reveals something horrible about Nightwing’s past, and Kaldur has to act like hearing these graphic, awful things about his friend. After it’s all over, he goes to Dick and mentions Deathstroke saying something and Dick kind of shuts down and says like “How many people heard what he said?” There is a twitter thread between me and a friend on this very subject if you need inspiration ;)

19. Something based on this amazing art

20. Bruce is hella abusive. Dick lets himself be Bruce’s outlet so he won’t hurt the others. This, of course, comes to light. Yes, shit like this exists. But I pose you a question – is there ever too many? And has it been done by you yet?

21. Brainwashing. Just, give me brainwashing. Turned against your family, used and mocked by your enemy, kneeling “willingly” at your enemy’s feet. Bonus points for all kinds of abuse.

Well, that’s my list!! Go off and do great things for me! Thanks for the ask!!

#anon ask #ask #writing #batman #fanfic question

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mydeardeath · 4 years

Text

To belong with (6/8)

Whole series on tumblr (to belong series tag) or AO3

---

At first, it had seemed to be a good idea. Take Tim with him to do groceries shopping. Let him pick whatever he wanted, what he had missed. But seeing Tim pull another bag of candy into the cart made him regret his decisions. Part of him hoped that this wasn't what Tim usually ate, that he was just going for that junk because he had lacked food when he was... away. But Damian suspected that it was just what the other considered food. He was quite appalled. He knew that Tim wasn't the best cook. But that! Damian was quite horrified. Good thing that Tim had him now.

Damian had to restrain himself for throwing it all. Who could have imagined that courting would be so hard? Maybe he should invite Bart too. He was Tim's friend as well and a speedster. He would make all this junk disappear in a matter of seconds then he would show Tim what real meals were like and how amazing he was at making them. Damian pulled out his phone to tape a quick text to Conner, one eye still on Tim. He was still so scared of losing him. His heart had jumped in his chest when he had lost sight of him earlier. Tim hadn't been far, just in the next aisle. But still, Damian preferred to have him where he could see as much as possible. Tim had been taken away from him once. It could happen again. For all he knew, the ones that had taken Tim in the first place might want him back. There was no certainty that Tim was safe, that they would leave him alone. And Damian wasn't going to let that happen again.

He quickly caught up to Tim, receiving a little smile when he asked if he wanted anything else or if he was ready to leave. Tim was oblivious to Damian's feeling, his fear of having Tim disappear once again. He was just enjoying being back in Gotham. Being free after all this time. Because even if it had not been years but weeks for Tim, it was still a long time being prisoner.

***

Preparing lunch didn't take long considering there wasn't much cooking to do. It was good working in tandem with Tim even for such a simple, domestic task. That not something Damian had imagined he would be doing. He had shared a few nights with other people. Nameless people, he knew nothing of. He had not cared to create a romantic connection with anyone. It was kind of illogical. He had loved Tim, but they had never been together. Most people had seen his feelings for Tim as a simple crush, then they had seen it as an unhealthy obsession. And maybe they had been right. He had been a kid back then. He had started to spend time with Tim had the end, had started to know him. But that wasn't enough to form a true relationship. He could admit to himself that he had been born on a childish caprice. Thing is, Damian never had closure. He was given hope that one day he would have the chance to prove himself worthy of Tim's attention. Maybe, in the end, Tim wouldn't have been able to return his love. Maybe Damian would have grown out of his infatuation for the Omega. There was no way of knowing what might have happened. Damian never got his opportunity. All he could do was wonder "what if?". That thought had held him back for years. Now he would get his chance. He would take his chance with Tim. Whether or not he would be successful didn't matter. Well, it did matter a bit. But Damian could accept not getting him if that choice was theirs and not the outcome of outside forces.

For Tim to make a choice about their future, he first needed to get his life back. Damian didn't want to share his return with the family quite yet. He was still mad at them. It didn't stop him from knowing that it needed to happen. He couldn't keep Tim locked up in their apartment. Of course, Tim would end up attracted by Damian if it was only the two of them. Whatever had happened to Tim had been traumatizing. Damian had been the first familiar face he had seen in weeks, the first safe place he had found. If he kept Tim away from the other, the Omega would become dependant of him. No matter how much he desired him, that wasn't the way he wanted to get him.

He was informed of Tim's friends arrival just a minute before they were at the door. He had put a satellite in place to inform him of their movement. Tim was excited to see them. They were his friends after all, but Damian could tell that he was also anxious. He had preferred being warned in advance and not have them suddenly banging on the door.

Tim's hands had started trembling when Damian had told him they were almost here. The youngest Robin had taken them into his own, gently squeezing his hands to make him understand that he was here for him.

"I will get it" Damian let go of Tim when the doorbell rang, maintaining eye contact as long as possible before turning to his guests.

Kon was here with Bart as well as Cassie. Damian hadn't thought of inviting her. He hadn't wanted to crowd Tim with multiple people from the start. The invitation to Bart was solely for the junk food that needed to disappear. He should have guessed that it would have been hard to have the two of them without her tagging along. Not that he minded her company, he just hoped that it wouldn't feel overwhelming to Tim. Maybe that would prepare him for their family.

"Damian", they saluted him, "so why did you needed us here?"

"I don't need you. He does." Damian made a vague motion behind him even if they could not see Tim from the threshold.

Conner was confused. He had not expected anyone else to be here. Damian didn't hang out with that many people. He had made some friends within the Titans but most of the time he was the one that came to see them. When he was in Gotham, he was either alone or with his family. Kon didn't imagine that Batman was waiting in the living room. Damian would have rather went to the manor than invite him over. It was way too calm for Dick and his daughter to be here. But there was someone here. Now that Damian had said that he wasn't alone, Kon could clearly hear another heartbeat not far away. One that seemed oddly familiar. One that brought back memories from years ago.

Kon rushed past Damian without a word, leaving his flabbergasted friends in his wake. In less than a second, Kon stood before Tim. Or someone that looked exactly like him at least. But it couldn't be. Tim was dead.

Kon knew that Tim had tried to clone him when he had died. Maybe he had kept trace of his works and Damian had found them. Kon knew what Tim had meant to Damian. The youngest Robin had never seemed to grow past his lost. He had never heard of him dating. Yes, he had a few flings. But one night stands weren't close to a relationship. Maybe Damian had broken down and decided to create a new Tim.

But as he was thinking about that, some part of him couldn't shake the feeling that this was the real Tim. He knew one or two things about clones. He had learned to recognize them. One of the easiest ways was listening to the heartbeat. That not something you could simply replicate. You could learn, but it was a long process. And, unless Damian had records about the rhythm of Tim's heartbeats, he would not have been able to get it right just by pure luck.

They were used to people coming back to life. Him. Bart. Damian. But six years was a long time. And the man before him didn't look older than the last time he had seen him. He had not been raised from the dead and waited years to return to Gotham.

Yet, somehow, this was Tim standing before him.

Kon didn't waste another second before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

"I may be civil to you now, Superboy, but if you hurt him when he has just come back to me, I will make you chock on kryptonite."

Kon released a bit of the pressure he had put on Tim, apologizing quietly to his friend.

"What the fuck?" Cassie nearly yelled. She and Bart had been following Damian into the room. They hadn't been able to get a clear look on who Kon was hugging, the other person almost disappearing under Kon's form.

They hadn't known why Damian had asked for them. Kon's reaction had raised even more questions. They hadn't known what to expect. But Tim wouldn't have been their first idea. Nor the tenth.

Bart and Cassie hadn't been exactly enthused to answer Damian's invitation. Yes, he was somehow civil now, but he had yet to be anything close to friendly to them. They were glad that Kon had convinced them to come. This was the best surprise they had had in forever!

For a long time, none of them said anything, simply joining in the hug while Damian watched from a few feet away. Bart was the first to pull away.

"Have you always been this short? I don't remember you being that much tiny. But I was shorter back then. Probably why I didn't notice. Wow, and look at this babyface. You are so cute. How come I never noticed you were so cute." Bart was gushing, even attempting to pinch Tim's cheeks.

"I am not cute" Tim spluttered, offended. He had always been one of the shortest in the family. He was roughly the same size as Cass and taller than Damian. But Damian had been 12 years old, so he hadn't meant much. It was expected that Damian would grow but Tim had thought he would too. He knew he would never have the same bulk that Bruce and Jason had, but he could have hope for a late growth spurt. Seemed like Bart had had one. Cassie too, even if on a smaller scale. They had all been teens the last time he had seen them. While he was still one, his friends had grown into adults. He had missed so much.

"Hey, are you okay Tim?" Cassie asked him gently.

"Yeah. I'm happy to see you guys." He smiled faintly. He couldn't quite hide his sadness. He should have aged with his friend. Experience the start of adulthood with them. How many things had he missed in their lives? They would probably tell him everything but he would never get to experience them, and that hurt.

"Ow, Tim. We are so happy to have you back." Cassie smiled at him.

"Yeah, especially if you want back in the team. Imagine, with his adorableness, villains will stop fighting right away. Make our jobs easier." Bart joked.

Tim gripped his arm and threw him on the grounds.

"I see why you would need an easier job, you're getting slow kid flash." Tim teased him, earning laughs from his former team and a proud smile from Damian. He may not have returned at his highest form, but he could still kick some ass.

#timdami #damitim #to belong series #part 14

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redjaybathood · 4 years

Text

Jason Todd Week Day One (February 16, 2020): Time Travel | Family

Characters: Jason Todd, Damian Wayne

Rating: PG-13

Notes: I have unshakeable need to fix the shit of all the unncecessary deaths in canon.That’s how I’m doing it

"You ever thought not to do everything your father says?"

The voice ambushed him. Damian had expected to be caught, but not so soon after going over the Gotham's border, and not by him.

"Hood. I thought you to be quite busy brainwashing kids to come helping your family."

Hood scoffed. "Most of the kids I train are way older than you, except Babe in Arms. If anyone doing any brainwashing, it's probably her. I'm not really doing anything with them, really, except look out they don't get too traumatized before reaching majority. You know, like someone should have done for us."

"Us? There's no us, Hood. Anything you have experienced was your own doing. You just like to shift the blame to others."

Damian struggled with the trap but couldn't reach his knife. Hood planned it specifically for him. Did that mean he was working with Bane? Did Bane know about his father's plan?

He asked about it, sneering.

"Ouch," Hood said, clasping his hand to his chest. "And here I thought you at least try to keep an open mind about me. Seeing how you thought I sold you out, and I didn't. Then you thought I am the Leviathan when it turned out, I am not."

He shrugged.

"Oh well, fortunately for you, I don't care what do you think. When I heard what happened, I was so mad. I kinda wanted to strangle you a little. You, coming here, alone, trying to play Bane and that another lunatic who calls himself your Grandfather. You know they keep Alfred hostage? Of course you don't. Batman says jump, Robin asks how high, and not about where he's going to land. So, when I got over it, I thought, here I am, looking out for kids that I met six months ago, and here's a small angry child I should have kidnapped when I saw him the first time. I should do something! So here I am, doing something. I'm here to save you from unnecessary trauma. Here how it is going to go..."

***

Hood's plan worked to some extent. But Damian still had nightmares. He saw the face of Pennyworth every time he closed his eyes. His expression just before his neck got broken. His lifeless body after.

He kept thinking about it. He wasn't traumatized by any means! His psyche was stronger than Hood's, it would take more than watching his family member die to break it. Yet, the image haunted him. So - so much for Hood's self- proclaimed desire to help him.

The day of memorial service came. Hood was truly an actor of a great talent, so Damian didn't feel bad about never trusting him. He lied so successfuly! It was as though he really blamed Damian for being the reason of Pennyworth's demise. It stung, a little, because deep down he was deeply aware how close he came to that. But what bothered him even more - neither father nor Barbara tried to explain the circumstances. Perhaps, they thought Hood didn't deserve an explanation. But maybe it was because Damian didn't deserve it.

It made him think about other things for a change.

After the service, he came up to Hood, who was staring at the Family portrait.

"Lovely picture," Hood said, looking as it was anything but.

Damian didn't have patience for his usual bullshit.

"You wanted to kidnap me when you first saw me. To save me," he said. "But you shot at me instead."

Hood looked at him from behind his atrocious glasses.

"Yeah, I did. But when I shot at you," Hood paused, and Damian finished the sentence in his head, I wasn't in the right mind. Because with Hood, it was always excuses. But then Hood continued, "It wasn't the first time I saw you. It was a little after I got shoved in the Pit, I think. After the second or third teacher I killed, and I came back to Talia for new recommendation. You were a toddler back then. Talia didn't like me spending time with you, not that I blame her. So it's no wonder you don't remember."

Hood cleared his throat and looked away, busying himself with clearing his glasses. He froze, suddenly.

"Wait, how did you know?"

Damian frowned.

"You told me, just before," Damian lowered his voice, "just before you and Devour switched Pennyworth for a clone."

Hood hmmed.

"Make sense. Veritas for clones, Devour for teleportation. Did I have anyone else with me?"

"If you count your toy," Damian sneered.

Hood didn't look embarrassed at all, more excited.

"Pup Pup?"

"Of course you named it, too."

Hood smiled. "Actually, my friend did. Or he named himself, I don't really remember. Nevermind. Thanks," Hood moved to the exit. He stopped and turned back to Damian for a second. "Also, if you ever decide you want to be kidnapped by me? There's a spot on Generation Outlaw roster."

"I have a team," Damian said.

But he will think about it.

#time travel #Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #fic #Jason Todd Week #fix-it #I hope how Jason saves Alfred is clear but if not #please message me and I will elaborate in the next instalment

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runnfromtheak · 4 years

Text

fanfic author’s tagging game (yay!)

Thank ya darling for tagging me!!!! @boyblunder-thedarkheir!!!!!

AO3 Name(s): LostandLonelyBirds aka RUNNFROMTHEAK

Fandom(s): Primarily Batfamily (so, Dick Grayson) and Young Justice (along with DCU obviously, but I also dabble into Miralculous Ladybug, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, and MCU (none of which I will ever seriously write for? Idk man).

Number of fics: 22 I will admit to (how do you have so many, my dear @boyblunder-thedarkheir? What is your secret?)

1. Fic you spent the most time on: Are we talking writing or thinking about writing, cause those are two very different answers. I spent the most time writing this bitch of a fic I’m working on right now, and the most time thinking about the two latest installments of my main series, Death is But An Illusion (aka How Could He and How Could It Be). I agonize over every goddamn detail with Dick’s anger, Jason’s Jason-ness, and every person’s every move and word. I am a mess, and I’m going to be murdered if I don’t update them soon. I am not sorry about that XD

2. Fic you spent the least time on: You Came Behind Me Secretly and Shattered Every Piece of Me (There's Blood On My Hands) aka my pick-your-own-canon clusterfuck of Dark!Dick Grayson and Dick Grayson being traumatized and tortured with no comfort (Some of them are so fucked up I question my own mind). I take less than an hour to write 80% of them, cause they’re short, and they very rarely take any time to plan. Fun and easy!

3. Longest Fic: At present, he had a chest full of heart and a body full of scars (pain became the only way that he could ever learn) is my longest, but the fic I’ve been hinting at on my other tumblr, @lostandlonelybirds is easily double the length (why do I do this to myself? Why am I like this?) the long boi (named one, not the one I won’t shut up about) is easily my best fic at the moment, and I’m so excited to write a sequel whenever I get the chance.

4. Shortest Fic: With Bated Breath and Pain You See (We're Nothing More Than Memories) technically, I have one shorter than that, but it’s a collab that wasn’t my original idea so I’m not counting it :)

5. Most Hits: You Came Behind Me Secretly and Shattered Every Piece of Me (There's Blood On My Hands) why do you people like this trash-fire so much? I don’t understand

6. Most Kudos: How Could He which does not surprise me.

7. Most Comment Threads: Technically, How Could He followed by the trash-fire AU title thing I’m too lazy to type again, but I’m gonna love on this one: Just Close Your Eyes (No One Can Hurt You Now) because it’s my baby, and it deserves it okay?

8. Fave Fic You Wrote: Ooo we are doing a top five.

5. How Could It Be (Jason is precious and sad and Dick is oblivious, and I love one-sided pining wayyyy too much)

4. How Could He (I put my life force into this stupid fic, so ofc it’s here)

3. I'm Scared to Live But I'm Scared to Die (I'm Numb Inside) (the suicidal boy, major trigger warning)

2. I See Things That Nobody Else Sees (And It's Slowly Killing Me) (the only fic I’ve ever written from Cass’s perspective, and definitely one of the creepiest and most fucked up. Bruce does not look good here)

1. he had a chest full of heart and a body full of scars (pain became the only way that he could ever learn) (so ummm Bruce doesn’t look good here either? RHATO #25 if DC wasn’t cowardly and let Dick react how he actually would, aka fuck Batman is the new motto)

9. Rewrites?: Fuck. All my older ones? Everything? Who knows.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

Let’s do two. I’m nice.

First comes from How Could It Be:

“You loved him,” Donna says, ignoring his barb. “You loved him, and no one’s seen you or heard from you and I’m concerned, damnit.”

She punches his shoulder roughly, and he’s reminded of her strength, no matter how small she seems in her dead best friend’s sweater.

“I’m fine. Peachy-keen. Couldn’t be fuckin’ better. Honestly, you should be more concerned with Replacement, don’t think he’s slept in—”

“Jason.” Her voice is firm, even as her eyes swim with tears and she holds her arms tight to herself, breathing in the well-loved item’s scent. Jason wonders when Dick wore it last, if Donna had taken it from his abandoned Gotham Penthouse or his Chicago Apartment. He wonders if he’d left it draped over the couch, like the natural disaster he was, or if it had been folded neatly in a drawer.

For someone who prides himself on not being sentimental, Jason suddenly wishes he had something of Dick’s too.

“I’m here because I care, and because if Dick was here, he’d be doing the same thing I am.”

“But he ain’t here,” Jason snaps, “Is he?”

Donna’s head falls, and he feels like a giant jerk. He just… reacts poorly to that name, hasn’t heard it spoken since the transmission and subsequent funeral, since the guy he’d had the hots for since wearing the scaly panties had his mask ripped away and his life taken in front of Bruce’s eyes (who, to absolutely no one’s surprise, failed to save his son).

In the aftermath, no one said Dick Grayson’s name, always Nightwing, or some inane nickname the superhero community had for him. Last time he said it was to Damian, a failed attempt at comfort. But even Jason’s form of mutual grieving had been better than any of Bruce’s shit ideas. Bastard immortalized the ripped costume from his own son’s corpse (not that it had been the first time) and hadn’t even had the decency to give it a plaque (No ‘Good Soldier’ or ‘Good Son’, just a bare glass case with a bloody suit). Which… was weird. Jason was far from B’s best friend, but even he noticed something seemed strange, off, just not quite right. Like the funeral he didn’t speak at, like the breakdown none of them had witnessed beyond a one-off rage fit

“B, what the fuck happened down here?”

The Batcave was a disaster, dents glaringly obvious in several vehicles and a large spiderweb crack across the Batcomputer. Bruce closes the screen down, but Jason manages to catch a spiraling eye.

“Nothing, just…”

Bruce looks at the spare Nightwing costume none of them had taken down yet, still clean and ready for use (too bad its owner died and would never wear it again).

“Dick?” Jason questions, and the way Bruce’s eyes snap to his face is almost suspicious, almost enough to arouse concern.

“Yes. I—”

Jason sits next to Bruce on the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I miss him too, Old Man. Don’t mean you need to be an ass about it.”

A memorial next to Jason’s own, but Dickhead’s is empty and broken from Damian’s fists and grief, and Jason’s is just gone. No one told him why, it was just gone.

Kind of like Dick.

He wonders if Bruce would have told him if the video hadn’t been broadcast, if he would’ve told anyone. B did love his fuckin’ secrets.

“No,” she whispers, and he can hear the tears in her voice, can feel her grief as keenly as his own. It’s palpable, tangible, “He’s dead, and I’m alive, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

And then, to Jason’s mounting horror, she starts crying openly.

…..

Second comes from my one I’m working on rn with Stray!Dick called I See Sunset In Your Eyes (I Hate This Part Right Here)

“Come on,” Wally says with a pout, dragging an overly amused Jason and Dick with him through the karaoke bar doors. “Donna and Roy are waiting for us, and Dick had to take forever to primp.”

Dick shrugs with a grin.

“Beauty takes time, time I can tell you did not take.”

Jason snorts, and Wally glares at him.

“At least I don’t take five hours to finish getting ready.”

“At least I can last longer than five minutes.”

“Ouch!” Roy butts in, throwing an arm around Jason and Dick’s shoulders. “Claws are out tonight!”

“Speaking from experience?” Jason asks, eyebrow raised.

Dick smirks without comment, sauntering past the group towards the table Donna’s lounging at.

“Hey gorgeous twin of mine,” He greets with a kiss to her eyes. She smirks, rolling her eyes at him.

“You’re just stroking your own ego with the twin tacked on, Wonder Boy.”

Dick bumps his shoulder against hers.

“Can’t I stroke both our egos?”

“You can stroke mine,” Wally mutters, turning red when Stray winks at his phrasing. Jason and Roy both facepalm, groaning. “Not what I meant guys!”

“Why Kid Idiot,” Dick replies, hand on his heart, “I had no idea you could be so forward~!”

Wally glares, waving over the waitress.

“Round of shots, on this dick,” he jerks his thumb at Stray, offering up his fake ID. She doesn’t bother checking it, probably because this is Gotham, and they were all in uniform. “Whisky, please.”

“Trying to get me drunk?” Jason jokes. It is, after all, his first big outing with the Titans for non-mission reasons. Stray had practically dragged him out of the Manor with a wink at Alfred and a middle finger for Bruce, saying that Jason needed to have fun outside of books.

Jason knows better than arguing with Dick Grayson-Kyle when he wants something, Stray trained him well.

“Of course, Batboy,” Roy replies, “It’s not a Titans outing if Stray is fully dressed and everyone’s sober.”

Dick shrugs.

“You’ll have to get some real liquor in me if you want me to do anything like last time.”

“Last time?” Jason asks, looking to Donna for an answer. Dick snorts. You get near naked one time…

“Boy Blunder ended up in just his boxers in a dancing cage drunk of his ass. Everyone thought he was one of the strippers, and he made, what, three-hundred dollars in bills?”

“Five-hundred,” Dick replies proudly, offering the waitress a twenty as she came back with their drinks. “Keep the change, darlin’!” He adds with a wink.

She flushes, making Jason frown.

Stray, of course, notices this and elbows Jason.

“Don’t get jealous, Blue Jay, it’s not becoming.”

Jason does not blush. He doesn’t, and that’s the hill he will die on.

“I’m not. On an unrelated note, pass me a shot.”

Jason is the master of changing the subject, Stray thinks sarcastically, passing him a shot and downing one of his own.

“Five bucks says alley cat blacks out,” Roy says smugly as Dick makes a face, the way he always did with heavier liquors. He glares at the redhead, who shrugs unapologetically.

Donna eyes them both speculatively, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Twenty says he gives a lap dance before he blacks out.”

Roy snorts.

“I’ll take it,” and to Dick, “Don’t do it, for me.”

Dick bats his eyes innocently.

“Lil’ old me? I would never do something so…” He trails a finger down Roy’s chest, making him swallow roughly. “Scandalous.”

Donna grins victoriously as Roy groans, trying and failing to hide his excitement.

“I hate you. I hate you both.”

Tagging whoever sees this, I suppose?

#dcu #dick grayson #my writing #stray!dick

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damian-dreamz8442 · 5 years

Text

5x’s Someone Used the Mom-Arm on Damian, +1 time He Did

A bit screwy when it comes to following the canonical timeline but you know what? I do what I want!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some angsty, mostly fluffy, just a bit of batfam fun starring my favorite baby bat! Might be a tad OOC but it’s my first go with all these lovelies and I haven’t gotten the hang of them yet. Give me tiiiiime.

(Really hecking long. Did not mean for it to be so long. I am so, so sorry.)

Jason worked alone. It wasn’t that he was broody and in denial like a certain someone - not mentioning names - he actually had a reason to work alone. He didn’t go on nightly patrols to keep up appearances. He didn’t drive around in a heated, leather interior, Jason mobile. He didn’t even have a butler who knew first aid.

Jason’s missions were dangerous, and often times traumatizing. You can imagine why he would be on edge when a freaking ten-year-old with an attitude showed up on the rooftop of one of his stakeouts.

“Absolutely not.” Jason hissed, grabbing Robin’s shoulder. Damian turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “Tt, please. You have no say in the matter.”

“Like hell I ‘have no say in the matter’. You’re going home right now or, so help me, I’m tying you to that A/C unit. Don’t you have homework? Or normal ten-year-old activities to attend to?”

“This mundane drug-cartel stakeout is an activity fitting for me, my age having nothing to do with my abilities.”

Honestly, would it kill the kid to use some contractions? His full-word responses were giving Jason the impression he was a robot and not his “baby brother”. Speaking of family...

“Where’s Batman? Isn’t he supposed to be looking after you?” Not me? Damian looked away, and it sort-of almost broke the shriveled remainder of Jason’s heart. So Bruce was still a moron. Good to know.

“Alright kid, stay close.” Jason tried not to notice the way Damian visibly brightened, and then did his best to by hyper-focused. He no longer was suspicious of Damian being a robot. He was just a kid.

Suddenly, there was movement. There was movement in the warehouse owned by a notoriously dangerous drug-cartel that wasn’t supposed to be making any moves for a few more weeks. Of course they had to move up their schedule. Of course Damian had to fight with Bruce tonight and warrant Jason’s pity. Of course Jason was an idiot, as Damian was already off like a shot.

Jason sprinted after him, using every curse he knew - he knew enough to keep rambling them until he was close enough to snatch Damian by the scruff of his neck.

Setting the fighting ball of fury back on the ground, Jason assessed the situation - Dick would be so proud. “Alright, we have to go check it out, but be quiet.” Damian geared up to rush off again before Jason even finished his sentence. Without thinking, Jason’s arm lashed out, it would’ve clothes-lined the kid if they weren’t so close together. As it was it caught Damian in the chest and he let out a whoosh of air, both arms wrapping around Jason’s. He looked up at him, almost-glaring.

“Quietly, and together.”

ii.

Dick did not like to admit it, but he’d never been the greatest driver. When he donned the cowl, worrying about learning to drive the batmobile hadn’t been his biggest concern. In fact, it wasn’t even on his list of concerns. It wasn’t even on his list of concerns for another time concerns.

“I’ll drive.” Damian, the adorable little gremlin announced as they put on their costumes. Dick looked up, looked at Alfred’s incredulous expression, and then back at Robin.

“Absolutely not.” It should’ve gone without saying that Damian was far too young to drive a car, not to mention the batmobile. It had missile launchers while most cars had seat warmers.

“I can drive.” Was this a serious argument? Damian was making his way to the vehicle and Dick worried that if he didn’t say something soon the little boy would just hop into the driver’s seat. “No. No! Damian, I will be driving.” Dick rushed to put on his other boot, stumbling to catch up.

Dick was wondering if maybe he should’ve let the kid drive. Damian could barely see over the steering wheel, but he’d probably be a better driver than Dick.

The batmobile unintentionally drifted another corner, nearly going up onto the sidewalk. A white van of gun-toting penguin goons got further away. Dick was white-knuckling the steering wheel, Damian was seething silently.

Dick could do this, he could.

Suddenly, the van lurched to a stop at the edge of the harbor. Dick had been too focused on keeping the car on the road, he hadn’t noticed the asphalt change to wood. He slammed on the brakes, car skidding on damp wood. Why was everything in Gotham always damp?

Dick’s arm shot out protectively, clamping across Damian’s chest. He knew he was wearing a seatbelt, but couldn’t help the need to make sure he was ok and not flying face-first through the wind screen.

When the car finally stopped, the brothers shared a look. Damian shoved Grayson’s arm off him with a glare.

“I think maybe I should drive.”

iii.

Cass looked up from her book only because the noise in the other room had reached a volume where it was impossible to focus on anything else. She didn’t bother hearing the words, just the voices. Ah, Tim had come home. And he was already fighting with everyone’s favorite gremlin, Damian.

Bruce wasn’t home yet, Alfred was as busy as always, and Duke was probably still at school. Wait, it was a Tuesday. Duke had tutoring today - he’d gotten involved in a mentorship program with younger kids at his school. The other boys would not stop teasing him about following in Bruce’s footsteps, or how they wouldn’t be surprised if he brought home his own Robin. Cass was proud of him.

That did not change that two of her other brothers were arguing at the top of their lungs and making it impossible for her to read, or reflect on her other family member’s achievements.

She got up and approached the living room without making a sound, stopping in the doorway. Damian and Tim were yelling, Tim’s arms were in the air, Damian’s cheeks were turning a frustrated shade of pink. She was about to say something diffusing when she saw it. She knew the signs well, was trained to watch out for them. Trained to do them herself.

Damian squared his posture, leaned on his dominant leg, and slid his left foot out no more than an inch. Tim was still in full swing. Cass shot forward faster than Damian could. She could not bear the thought of hurting her baby brother, but her arm shot out instinctively.

Damian, who had been in mid-lunge for Tim, was caught square in the diaphragm by Cass’s unmoving appendage. He let out an oomph and fell back onto the carpet. Tim started in surprise, taking in Cass’s sudden appearance.

“Wow, thanks Cass!” He said, but Cassandra had no use for words. She took in Tim’s casual body language and relieved expression. Then she looked at Damian. He was still on the floor, it had already been five seconds - his average stand-up time. His whole body was tense, controlled, not coiled. He was looking at the floor, his face was still red.

Oh. Oh no.

Cassandra’s stance fell and she crouched in front of Damian. He eyes were welling with tears. Maybe she should’ve listened to what Tim said in that argument.

Tim noticed Cass crouching, staring. “Uh, Cass...?” Too late, she’d already bundled the boy in her arms and stood. Tim took a step back, arms coming up to shield himself from the inevitable next move. He waited for Damian to attempt to break away from Cass, to lash out kicking and screaming, maybe even biting.

To everyone’s surprise - except Cass, she was never surprised - Damian curled into his sister’s shoulder. She nodded at Tim before moving to leave.

“No more fighting.”

iv.

Bruce was finally settling back into normal. Well, nothing in Gotham was normal, especially if you were secretly the most well-known vigilante in the city. But, normal to him.

He was no longer ‘dead’, Dick was no longer ‘dead’ and visitng Gotham regularly, Tim and Duke had settled in to living together with their littlest brother and, oh yeah, he’d gotten Damian back. After months of work and tireless efforts, he could finally hold his baby boy in his arms again. He could ruffle his hair in passing, compare school photos to his own as the boy got older, and bundle him up in a hug when he had nightmares of him being dead.

And Damian was here, with him. He wasn’t going to be another Jason, another loss of a beautiful soul. He was sitting right next to Bruce on the couch, pencil skittering across a page of his sketchbook.

Still, it hadn’t been long enough for Bruce’s fears to dissipate. In fact, he doubted they ever would. He would be over-protective of Damian for the rest of his life - even if the young man didn’t want it.

Breaking the silence, there was a bang at the window. Damian started before setting aside his sketchbook to go check what it was. It was probably Alfred - the cat. Still, images of horrible things went through Bruce’s mind.

Talia, there to steal Damian away permanently.

Assassins, back to finish the job.

Even just a robber taking advantage of a large house smelling like money, who had the element of surprise and a gun.

Bruce was up before his brain knew what his legs were doing. His arm lurched away from his body, stopping Damian in his tracks. The poor boy walked right into it, rubbing his ribcage with a puzzled expression.

“I’ll check.” Bruce offered as explanation for the offending appendage, leaving Damian by the couch and pulling back the curtain. Bruce finally let out the breath he was holding at the sight of the fluffy cat on the windowsill.

“Slow down, don’t rush into things!” Tim hissed, firing his grapple after Damian. He could see the yellow underside of Robin’s cape land on a building ahead of him.

Tim was more experienced at Gotham thugs, he didn’t blame Damian for not noticing it. Damian was young, and probably trying to prove something to Tim. He was obsessed with proving his worth. He didn’t take the time to smell the air.

The standard Gotham smog was thick with the smell of burning gasoline. There were promising tendrils of smoke from the building diagonal to Damian. The building he preparing to grapple too. Oh geez.

Tim ran, he was just fast enough to stick out an arm and block Damian from running forwards and leaping off the edge of the building.

Damian ran right into his arm. Tim had been expecting him to barrel through it for some reason, maybe because he was so good at fighting or had such bravado. Instead, he reacted the way all eleven-year-olds did. He was knocked back with a grunt, nearly falling over.

Tim blinked at the strange display of childish behavior as Damian stuck his arms out to regain his balance. He hadn’t even exerted any force on Tim’s arm. His glare after that display lacked any heat, and it was kind of adorable.

“Damian, pay attention.” Tim gestured at the on-fire building. Suddenly, there were sharp popping and cracking sounds from the smoky warehouse. Tim’s full attention was on it now, and he pulled up the specs of the address.

It was an old office building but had been abandoned after one of Joker’s attacks damaged the structural integrity. There were signs and bars on every doorway marking it for demolition. He looked over and saw Damian was already doing a read for heat signatures.

He was, for once, proud of his brother.

Then Tim noticed something on the specs. The building had an old built-in heating system, attached to a gas-powered generator on the third floor. Hoo boy, it was going to blow.

After a rather loud bang, Tim acted. For once he didn’t plan out every bad thing this next action could cause. He lunged, using the arm that had still been hanging in the air slightly in front of Damian to grab his little brother and pull him against his chest. He then ducked and pulled his cape around them. Before Damian could recover from the surprise, the building exploded.

Tim could feel debris bounce off him, though not much. Heat bit at his ankles. Nothing broke through his cape barrier. One hand braced on Damian’s head, he tucked the boy suffocatingly close. Damian didn’t move until the blast had dissipated.

When it had, Damian shoved hard on his brother’s chest and made a display of brushing himself off. Tim didn’t miss how Damian’s attention was actually on him, quickly assessing him for any injuries. He had none.

Tim was proud of his brother, for a second time.

+ (vi.)

Damian did not get along well with most of his siblings, so when the opportunity arose to spend time with one he had actually grown to respect, he took advantage of it. Alfred’s suggestion had made him excited in a way that Mother would’ve thought shameful. Damian did his best not to think that.

He was nearly bouncing in the backseat of the buick, looking out the window without actually seeing.

Duke and Damian did not get along when they first met. However, Duke made it clear he was not Robin, nor trying to replace Damian. He was useful in a unique way. He fit in at the manor. He respected Bruce, he even seemed to respect Damian.

Damian wasn’t so sure he was liked by Duke, but respect was enough. At least, it used to be.

If respect were enough, would he be listening to Alfred’s show tunes on his way to pick Duke up from school?

They pulled up to Gotham Academy to see Duke walking out, the bell having just gone. Damian nodded at Alfred’s timing. One of his favorite things about the man was how he always managed to have perfect timing.

Damian found himself getting out of the car, dangerously close to waving at Duke. Duke saw him and... was that a smile? Damian let out a breath of relief - he’d momentarily been afraid Duke would not be happy to see him.

When Duke reached him, they were interrupted by a group of teenage boys yelling at them. It took Damian a moment to realize they were yelling at him.

“Duke, I thought you had too much self-respect to get in a car with some spoiled little rich kid!” Yelled one. Rich? Yes. Spoiled? Well, only recently.

“The brat’s probably illiterate since he’s too much of a coward to go to school!” Damian knew several languages and was already 3 grades ahead. Couldn’t they think of any better insults?

“Little arabian bastard, did they actually do a DNA test on this one?” Ok, that one stung a bit. Damian was preparing to get back in the car and bristle, perhaps vent to Grayson later. He was not prepared for a low growl to come from Duke.

“How. Dare. You.” Thomas hissed. Damian turned back to look at him, he was positively seething, fists clenched at his sides.

“Come on Duke, why hang out with the petty little brat?”

Duke lurched forwards and Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he actually preparing to defend him? Damian copied a move he’d learned from the rest of his family to diffuse a situation.

He stuck out his arm, though it only caught Duke in his middle, he looked down. Successfully diffused. Damian was impressed with the immediate effect.

“They are not worth it, Thomas.”

Duke nodded and followed Damian into the car. Then he grinned.

“Back there... you... did you just mom-arm me?”

“What-arm you?!”

Alfred restrained laughter the rest of the way home at Damian’s facial expression while Duke explained the reasoning and use behind the ‘mom-arm’.

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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Um... /post/188248925631/dick-and-damian-dont-love-each-other-more-than Explain, please. Also curious about your opinion on the Dick and Damian being the mirror of Bruce and Dick, especially things like That scene in Nightwing #20 and fanon's heart nut material that is Dick being Damian's father figure along with brother.

LOL that was a goof post that basically is just another way of me saying “stop making the Batkids have favorites, let them all love and appreciate each other just in different ways.” With the fact that Dick and Damian tend to interact with each other more comfortably than with their other siblings not being proof of favoritism, but rather just...a lot of the same things and experiences appeal to them in very similar ways, so they have plenty of available bonding activities at any given moment.

Like I see them both as adrenaline junkies in a way that say, Tim perhaps isn’t....like Tim isn’t afraid to do any of the things he does as a vigilante, of course, but he’s a more cerebral character, more of a thinker, happy surrounded by computers and data and investigation files as much as anything else...whereas Dick and Damian I both see as very physically oriented people, they like action, danger and excitement that gets their blood pumping and adrenaline going, like....on its own merits.

So they’re like “HELL YEAH, LET’S DO THE THING” when the thing isn’t always the most....logical course of action, but hey, at least they’re not gonna be bored, lol. Y’know?

As far as Dick and Damian mirroring Bruce and Dick....I both agree and disagree with it.

I disagree in the sense that canon and fanon frequently views them as an INVERTED mirror of Bruce and Dick, with Dick as the happy Batman trying to cheer up the brooding Robin Damian, as opposed to when Bruce was the brooding Batman cheered up by his happy Robin Dick.

Because I think that devalues Bruce and Dick’s VERY early relationship, the inception of it, the foundation of their bond....and perhaps ironic given how critical I am of Bruce and his badly written or acted upon parenting a lot of the time....I think this perception of Bruce and Dick undercuts some of Bruce’s BEST times as a parent to Dick, specifically.

Because Bruce WASN’T just a dark, brooding Batman for most of the time Dick was Robin, historically speaking. Before the late 70s/early 80s, which was also around the time they started transitioning Dick out of Batman’s sphere and into his own role as Nightwing and most associated with the Titans, like....before all that, Batman tended to be as silly, tongue in cheek, and yes, even cheerful, as he was at times dark and brooding. Like, in pre-Flashpoint stories that trace back to Dick’s early years, Bruce SMILED, even when in the cowl. He laughed, he joked, he called Dick by personal endearments. He was PATERNAL and affectionate.

And given that in pretty much every version of his origin story, and like....in logical view of the events that unfolded in it....Dick himself did not START as a cheerful, happy go lucky Robin without a care in the world. He was traumatized, he was grieving. Depending on which origin you go with, he had massive trust issues, in all origins he has abandonment issues....early Dick Grayson had a darkness every bit as much as anyone else, because he was a lost and grieving child trying to find his way in the world with his usual support, lifeline, the familiarity that had defined so much of his early life in the form of his parents, his friends, his circus....like all of that was gone, and he had to start over in terms of finding things good and worthwhile in a world that had taken all of that away from him.

And it was Bruce who helped him do that. Who was HIS light, HIS brightness every bit as much as people tend to credit Dick with being his, if not more. Like, I would argue that it was NEVER that Dick made Bruce lighter and happier by simply being himself and always being cheerful and joking. More accurately, I’d suggest that it was more that Dick made Bruce lighter and happier by giving him reason to make a conscious CHOICE to be those things...for Dick’s benefit, specifically, so as to help steer Dick away from becoming a replica of his darkest and most brooding self, by setting a more carefree, light-hearted example for Dick to look at and use to help decide how he wanted to shape himself and what he wanted to shape himself into.

So the irony is, I think Dick and Damian are MORE of a mirror to early Bruce and Dick than people actually deem them to be. That they weren’t actually an inverted mirror, with Dick always playing the role of the cheerful inspiration that brightened his counterpart’s demeanor. I see it as Dick occupying the exact same role Bruce did in Damian’s life, leading him by example, out of his own personal darkness, the way Bruce had once done for him...no matter what differences came between them later in life.

The part where I DO think they’re actually an inverted mirror of Bruce and Dick, is in the paternal bond between Dick and Damian, that fandom highlights so consciously. Its not that Bruce wasn’t paternal, as I said earlier. Its more that like....there was always that slight distance or buffer (that grew as Dick grew older) that came about because of the uncertainty between Dick and Bruce as to what they actually were to each other, what label to use for each other....friend, brother, partner, father/son? And I do firmly believe that as the adult and guardian, it was Bruce’s responsibility to take the lead in establishing what they were to each other...or at least, what they COULD be, if Dick wanted it to be.

Like, I mean, the popular take is that Bruce never adopted Dick as a kid because he didn’t want to replace Dick’s father in his eyes. But like, there’s all of one story in pretty much their entire history when Dick ACTUALLY says anything like that himself...and its back when he’s like, ten or eleven, and they’re trying to keep him in Bruce’s custody and so like, a judge is forcing ten year old Dick to like....put a label to them himself. And Dick is many things, but presumptuous on his own behalf has NEVER been one of them, so I have super negative feelings towards that always being pointed at as why Bruce didn’t adopt Dick as a kid and saying see, it was for Dick’s benefit because he was just doing what Dick wanted....like, no. An orphaned kid who lost everything once, has massive abandonment issues, and ended up taken in by a billionaire who gave him more than he could have imagined....like that kid is NEVER going to be the one to push the envelope and say “hey this isn’t quite enough for me, could you please also adopt me, Bruce, even though you’ve never given me any clear indication that this was okay with you or something you even wanted?”

Like. Its just not realistic. Or fair to put that on the kid, to be the one to open up that avenue for exploration. This is why people who foster or adopt older kids are HEAVILY stressed to make clear to the child like....what their OPTIONS are. Like if they foster them initially, its not presuming anything about the child’s wants to just....make it clear that hey, if this is ever something YOU want, we would be very much open to adopting you and changing our dynamic accordingly, but if not, that’s fine too.

Kids just aren’t going to have the confidence to ASK for that. They’re just not. Especially when they come into the relationship with the kind of emotional baggage and familiarity with total upheaval that Dick had.

So my point being....I don’t think it was ever truly that Dick wanted to not be adopted, or expressed or hinted at that in any way. I think its more likely that Bruce projected his own wants on Dick, based on the fact that he initially identified with him and his circumstances so much, seeing himself reflected in Dick’s tragedy when losing his own parents. I think Bruce’s hesitancy to raise the issue of adoption when Dick was a kid was far more likely to do Bruce assuming Dick wouldn’t want that....because Bruce projected himself into DICK’S shoes, and based on THAT, operated off of what HE would have wanted as a kid....which was to NOT see his parents replaced in any real way, even though Alfred of course was very much a paternal presence throughout his later childhood.

So its not even that Bruce didn’t want to adopt Dick either - I think he very much did. He just told himself that Dick wouldn’t possibly want that, because Bruce couldn’t imagine have wanted that himself when he was Dick’s age, in Dick’s situation. And so Bruce held back from ever really raising it while Dick was a kid, because he was afraid he’d only get rejected if he did....again, just based purely on his personal assumptions and history.

The irony, for me, and why I see this as an inverted mirror to Dick and Damian’s bond....is that I think once Dick was in Bruce’s shoes....he did the EXACT SAME THING BRUCE HAD DONE....just in the other direction. He, just like Bruce had with him...projected himself into Damian’s shoes, and based his decisions off his assumptions about what Damian wanted or would want....which were in turn, based on his memories of what HE had wanted when he was the one in Damian’s position. Which was for Bruce to fully act like a father to him, to not hold back or hesitate or be afraid to step into that role.

So because of that, Dick tried to avoid what he saw as responsible for so much of the distance between him and Bruce - that hesitancy to establish a clear relationship and bond that left no real doubt how either felt - and so he in contrast all but threw himself into the paternal role with Damian...also using it at the same time to hide from his own grief and other issues stemming from Bruce’s death as well as having to be Batman. He EMBRACED being there and available as an actual father figure to Damian, if Damian made moves in that direction - which of course Damian inevitably did, because he was a kid desperately in need of affection, and here Dick was offering it freely and openly.

I think this additionally played into why Dick was so resistant to believing Tim about Bruce - it wasn’t that he didn’t WANT Bruce to be alive or that he didn’t trust Tim or WANT Tim to be right....it was that on some level, because of what he saw as so crucial to being for Damian’s benefit, and to avoiding making the same ‘mistakes’ with Damian that he felt Bruce had made by holding himself back from him at times, emotionally....Dick couldn’t afford to see himself as a placeholder in Damian’s life. Especially not without any guarantees that Bruce actually was alive or could come back....let alone how long that would take to happen. If he did that, accepted that, it would be all to easy to put off establishing that firm presence and role in Damian’s eyes for longer and longer....until one day he might look up and years might have passed and Damian was sixteen and pissed off and moving out because he didn’t know what he was to Dick and Dick was afraid to tell him, because he was afraid of replacing Bruce in Damian’s eyes.

So I think on some level, Dick just couldn’t allow himself to believe Bruce might come back, because if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to commit to what he truly, honestly felt Damian needed him to be, for Damian’s sake.

With the end result being that strong father/son seeming bond between them....and Dick not having ANY clue how to handle it when Bruce DID ultimately come back, and he probably went in his head....oh shit, I fucked up, I replaced Bruce in Damian’s eyes, or at least made it weird or difficult for them...I gotta get 1000 miles away from here STAT, otherwise I’ll fuck things up for them more and they’ll never have the father/son relationship I want them to have and they deserve to have, and it’ll be all my fault. And PS no this does not have anything to do with my devastation that I went all in on this whole ‘treating Damian like my own son’ thing and now I can’t do that anymore, I have no real claim, that’s not my place and I gotta just make my peace with Bruce occupying the role I came to want and love having myself.

*Shrugs* So yeah. All of that.

Oh and also....it does feed my ire on the ‘treating Dick like he’s only sorta Bruce’s son because of the smaller age gap between Dick and Bruce and how young Bruce was when he took Dick in’ front. Because Dick and Damian have just as small an age gap and Dick was pretty much just as young and Damian just as old as Bruce and Dick had been, originally...

And yet notice how fandom has NO trouble characterizing Dick and Damian having an almost father/son dynamic even WITH Bruce still present and even WITH them only having occupied those roles in each other’s lives for a year.

But meanwhile, Dick raised solely by Bruce from ages 8 through the end of his childhood, and some people still can’t wrap their heads around how they could possibly be TRULY a father and son to each other because this reason or that one?

Meh. Sounds fake. Hard pass. LOL.

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