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batarella · 4 years

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3 birds 1 stone - chapter 9

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: The first part of this chapter includes the whole scene of how the reader lost her leg, and it does get pretty violent and explicit. I also have to warn that the cause of the accident can get pretty heavy and heartbreaking. This series, as it isn’t already obvious enough, is just about as frustrating and angsty as other love triangle stories there are.

WORDS: 11,923 WARNINGS: violence, building caught on fire, 3rd degree burns, bone fractures, survivor’s guilt, heartbreak, death

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

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‘Falcon Saves the Commissioner’ ‘Gotham Times’

‘The long beloved heroine has stolen the hearts of many as the vast criminal ring in the undergrounds of Gotham City has once again been interfered. Commissioner James Gordon, who had been reported missing the past two days, was kidnapped from his own home by the masterminds of Harvey Dent and Oswald Cobblepot, also known as Two Face and Penguin respectively. The City of Gotham has been in the state of panic since reports first arrived and a search party taking place in different parts of the city.

However, hope has since been restored and the safety of Gotham no longer as compromised as the vigilante Falcon, with the help of her known crimefighting partner Red Robin, had swooped in and saved the Commissioner, who was held captive at the top of Gotham Plaza. Reports of the heroine literally flying to the rescue, with her trademark wings helping her glide all the way from the building opposite the scene of the crime, have astounded the citizens with her will and bravery.

The Commissioner has thanked the crimefighting duo for their rescue and has been released from Elliot Memorial Hospital Monday night. No severe injuries have been reported and he has since returned to work as the head of the Gotham City Police Department. Gotham has joyously thanked the heroes, especially the young Falcon, for their service to the citizens. They continue to patrol the crime-ridden city and have grown increasingly popular, with the people calling them the fearless heroes we don’t deserve.’

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“You made the headline!”

Red Robin probably shouldn’t be on his phone reading some news article when two other things were happening right then. One, the runaway that was speeding so recklessly was down the wrong lane and would have definitely hit a few headlights if it hadn’t swerved and narrowly missed a few pedestrians, and that if you weren’t to catch them, it might mean another night of painfully waiting for another robbery to happen just to catch these fools. Two, none of your hands should have been free enough to hold a damn phone at all, not when you and Red Robin were heavily relying on a single grappling gun each to hold your weight, flying past the empty skyscrapers as if it were any leisure.

“Tim, put your phone down!”

“I’m serious!” You both reached a rooftop and already you were on the way to the next one. The car frantically swerved again, this time almost running into some pizza truck. “People love you.”

“Maybe because I’m the only bird in the family who actually has wings,” you snorted.

And at that, you lived up to your name.

You, the Falcon, grappled up a nearby tower and ignored Red Robin’s cry. You were fast, and in such little time you’d reached the top, the cold mist breezing your lips like newly melted ice rode up to your skin. And when you did, you let out your wings.

Then you soared.

Maybe if you weren’t in some high-speed car chase, you’d have closed your eyes and enjoyed the slow, stagnant hover, when you weren’t descending just yet. You’d either fly even higher up in the sky, your ears thanking you violently in the process, when you’d shift your wings and stay in this calm, where you weren’t moving up nor downward. It was then when you felt that peace, as if miles away from the nearest conundrum.

You tilted to the side when you felt that slow descent, and below, you saw Red Robin frantically trying to catch up with you.

You laughed, then dove down, right to where you saw the worn-out red car was heading for, at an intersection where dozens of other cars would have been hit.

You pressed into your communicator. “Tim. I think he’s heading for the docks.”

“I think this is a hoax.”

“You think their boss is trying to give us the goat they’d sacrifice?”

“Might be part of their plan to distract us.”

You shifted your wings, then you landed onto a rooftop rolling to keep your balance, then you were running, Red Robin at your side.

“We’ve got the lead. Wait for them by the boardwalk.”

“Copy.”

Red Robin went over to the fishing port, all the way over to the other end, and you jumped over the ledges, swung by a lamppost, and let your boots completely obliterate this shed’s skylight to break your fall. Knee on the ground, and the room you were in eerily silent, you peeked over the door to see what was outside.

They’d be here in a few seconds.

There. A post holding up the phone wires. You grappled up to the top, crouched over, and waited for the car to drive over to the corner.

And these idiots slowed down, thinking they’ve lost you.

At the sharp turn, you leapt off to the post as if gravity was nothing you’d fear. And with your boots, your wonderful, padded boots that made you jump over larger heights and not hurt even your toes when you landed so harshly, dented the car’s roof and you had to hold tightly onto the metal just so you wouldn’t be thrown off by the sudden swerve.

Then it was Red Robin’s turn. From over to the fishing port, his grappling gun fired right into the roof of the car, and it shattered the windshield right where the driver was at. Left. Right. Then Left again. The driver was going nuts, and you only had so much time. You took out the one at the passenger seat and Red Robin the driver. From out the side windows, you shattered the glass, pulled them out from their collars, and got out of the car just before it crashed into the boardwalk.

And it wouldn’t have been pretty, with it drifting off the slippery wood and not stopping until the vehicle finally fell over the edge onto its untimely death deep in the ocean floor.

By then, you had the two robbers flat against the drenched cement, faces to the dirt and their teeth forcibly gritting from how hard you were both holding them down.

“Fuck!” The one beneath Tim growled. “Alright, alright, you got us!”

“We surrender!”

“Then it shouldn’t have to hurt so much when you tell us who you’re distracting us for.”

“What?!”

You slammed the noisy one’s forehead against the road.

“You know what he means,” you whispered.

“We don’t know about no distraction!”

Red Robin got out his bo staff and pressed it against his skull, just enough to hurt his temple.

“I told you. It shouldn’t have to hurt so much. Doesn’t mean I won't do it.”

Your knee holding down his back, you pressed it harder down his spine until you heard a yelp.

“Talk!”

“I told you! We don’t know nothin’!”

“What don’t believe that.”

The one beneath Tim was shivering down his toes. “Some guy on the phone told us about the bank and promised us a car and some guns if we give him a cut! That’s all I fuckin’ know I swear- ah!”

Tim held his face further down against the ground.

“Does this guy on the phone have a name?”

“I don’t know! Swear! Seemed sketchy and all but who are we to pass up on a free car?!”

You looked at Tim. A distraction still seemed likely, otherwise whoever hired them would have just robbed the bank himself with his own goons instead of hiring some amateurs who thought that 1994 Honda they probably stole from a junkyard was something they couldn’t pass up on. That or their boss was even more stupid than they were.

You grabbed your guy by the neck, hauled him up, then growled to his ear.

“You must be stupid to think we’d believe that-“

“Piss off if you don’t!” He dared scream at you, then you rewarded him with a smack of your knee down the small of his back.

“Who hired you?”

“We don’t fucking know-“

“Falcon.”

Red Robin’s finger was up to his ear, and he was staring intently at the ground. Batman.

“We got our answer.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “No need for these guys then.”

“What the fuck do you mean -“

With one swift move, you grabbed them both by the hair and slammed their faces together, teeth clattering to the ground, and they lied unconscious. Tim went on to listen to Batman bark orders at him while you tied them up by the lamppost and called the police.

Tim nodded at you, pointing to his ear. You tuned in your communicator to listen to their line with Bruce.

“…About ten robberies staged. High and low profile. It gave Lynns and his men time to set fire to three fire departments all over Gotham…”

“Lynns?” you said. “Garfield Lynns?”

“Firefly.”

“I’ll send you all the coordinates. Signal, Black Bat, and Spoiler. You three handle the one in Bristol. Robin, Batgirl, and I will take Otisburg.

“Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Falcon. You four handle the fire in Cauldron. The fire goes on for two blocks.”

“I’ll send you all the coordinates,” Batman told his team. “I expect a call afterward.”

His way of telling you all not to die, to promise him that you wouldn’t die, that you’d be alive by the end of it so he’d yell at you for an hour over the smallest things you missed.

You heard everyone voice out their nods at Batman, then you and Tim grappled up to the tallest portside shed nearest you, then you were heading for the coordinates.

“Looks like we’re alpha team for once!”

You felt your heart joyously leap when you heard that familiar voice. Cheery and bright. Already, you felt that rush to work even harder than you were expected to.

You pressed onto your communicator when you jumped across a narrow gap between two buildings.

“We’re not exactly team alpha, Nightwing.”

“Well. There are four of us. And we’re handling the biggest fire.”

“Batman’s always alpha,” you laughed. “Maybe he’s handling the most important fire.”

“You can't possibly think there’re arson cases more important than the others?”

“It depends on what’s on fire,” Tim interrupted, and you shot up a tower and let the air take you to what you could now see was a large black cloud in the distance, spanning across almost the whole avenue and growing as tall as a plaza-wide mushroom.

“I see it.”

“I see it, too.”

Another voice. Deeper. Muffled.

“You there, Red Hood?”

“Well, hey there, pretty bird.”

Even in the air, gliding between the concrete jungles of the city, you managed to roll your eyes beneath your mask. You could tell Tim let out a groan, which you heard from your communicator.

“It’s Falcon, you ass.”

“Nah,” Jason laughed. “I like pretty bird.”

“Falcons aren’t very pretty.”

“Yeah,” you heard Dick’s voice again. “But you are.”

The lack of response from both Jason and Tim’s line told you Dick had blocked them off just so he could say that.

Your feet landed onto the concrete of the building just a few more minutes away, and you had your lip too harshly bitten. Maybe it was from the impact on your soles. Maybe because that rush up your skin at Dick’s remark made you want to leap even further off the edge of that building.

You fled to the site. Jumping. Running. Gliding. And at the sounds of screams, sirens, alarms, you went faster.

Tim had caught up to you. Poor thing was panting, and he rushed up to your side.

Then Nightwing came into view, also running across the gaps of rooftops just a few yards away. Black and blue suit, still as light as day even under the moon’s not so generous shine. You smiled at him.

All the way over to the other side, on the roads underneath, you heard the harsh thunder of a motorcycle battling the cries of the uncontrolled flames. Red Hood wheeled up so he could drive past a blockage on the road, which you hadn’t known was from Flynns or the police themselves, but people were surrounding it, and at Jason’s warning, they made way for him to drive past the blockage, actually leaping with the vehicle in the air until his wheels slammed onto the cement.

You could do this. Two. Maybe even three blocks worth of fire.

If it weren’t from suspicion from a hallucinogen or some mirage from how large the fire had become, you could have sworn you saw three duplicates of Firefly, aiming their flamethrowers at the many windows of wood, stone, and steel.

“Firefly has goons now?”

“Seems so,” Nightwing said. “You guys got a plan?”

You and Tim stuck your grappling hooks onto the last rooftop’s ledge and jumped off the building. When you were on the ground, on the street right in front of the fire department that had your skin, eyes, and hair feel like it was burning down to your bones, Nightwing landed gracefully on your side, and Red Hood carelessly drifted on the road, jumping off his seat to join the rest of you and assess this rather difficult situation.

“There are people still in there,” Red Hood said. “I can see them.”

“We have to go save them first.”

“Firefly’s men-“

One of them, who had a fucking jetpack identical to the crazed pyromaniac’s, hovered over the four of you standing on the side of the road, and it was going for the next building.

“About fifteen civilians inside.” Red Hood finished his scan.

“I’ll save them,” you said. “The rest of you take care of those flies.”

“Absolutely not.” Nightwing’s voice was stern. Not something you wanted to argue with. “You need someone to go with you. None of us should be left alone.”

“I’ll go with her.” Red Robin, always your partner, stepped to your side. “We’ll take care of the people. You and Jason fight off those fireflies.”

Jason clicked his guns. “Promise I’ll play nice.”

Dick eyed Tim. A solid, knowing glance, then he turned to you.

“Be careful.”

“You, too.”

“Everyone.” Tim picked up his Bo staff. “Move!”

Your wings wouldn’t be of any use. Not when you’d have to work in a building aflame. Your wings weren’t very fireproof. So with your skintight, cape-less suit looking similar to Dick’s, you and Tim both flung yourselves up from windows and lampposts until you reached an entryway that didn’t burn you at first contact.

You scanned the place. There. A few rooms away. Two bodies huddled together. You went straight for the door until Tim grabbed you by the back of your suit and pulled you away.

Just in time, before a wooden beam from the ceiling came crashing down the burnt foundation, tearing a hole on the floor where you were standing just then. You stiffed. “Thank you.”

“I said be careful.”

Tim then expertly jumped over the beam, on top of the fallen debris that had fallen to the floor that wouldn’t crumble under his weight or would burn his palms when he pushed himself up, spinning in the air to get across the room. You followed right behind him. If you ignored the smoke you desperately tried to keep off your lungs or your skin about to be burnt off, it wasn’t so different from your vault back at home. You were faster, swifter. Your feet were off the ground for a few good seconds and the rush that went with your movements both cooled down your skin and made the fire around you worse. You caught up to him and soon you reached the end of the room seconds faster than he did.

Red Robin nodded, already trying to pry the door off its damaged hinges when he landed. You helped him.

“Dick-“ he grunted. “-taught you well.”

“Thanks.”

The door broke off, and you surveyed the room. The two bodies. Still breathing. But barely. You and Tim went up to them and he covered their heads with his cape.

“Come now,” you said, and you realized one of them must have been ten years old. He was shivering. The other, not much older.

You and Tim got them out of there and not a patch of their skin had to be burnt off. Hopefully, it’ll be the same for the rest.

Then you went in again. In that building alone, there were three more people inside.

Tim broke down a door with his foot, then you vaulted yourself up on beams to reach places Tim couldn’t, and you came out with a five-year-old girl in your arms. She’d been hiding under her bed. Not the brightest idea. But apparently, fire drills need to be done even at this age.

“Tim,” you coughed through the growing smoke. The poor girl was unconscious but breathing. You covered her head with Tim’s cloak. “Why are there so many kids?”

“Orphanage.”

You wanted to skin Firefly’s burnt flesh. Alive.

An orphanage just a block away from the fire department. And still, it was torn down in flames. You helped the kids out, then went on to the next building.

This one was burning so much more than the last.

The fireflies were here.

As you and Red Robin reached the window, the only available entryway, the wall to your left exploded from the other side and Red Hood broke down that very wall with his weight, landing on his back with the worst profanities that would even make Satan blush spurt out of his mouth.

“A LITTLE HELP HERE?!”

Tim got his staff, and as the menacing, horribly burnt creature flew into the room, a mock-up of wings strapped to his back and even more flames spurting out of his jetpack almost completely obliterating the floor underneath, you used what was left of the wall to your side, pushed both your feet against it so you were flying sideways, then your foot slammed on his head. With him stunned, Tim tore his staff right against his jetpack, unlatching it.

Then you flung it across the room so Jason could shoot at it, exploding before it even reached the ground.

“Where’s Dick!?” you asked.

“Third floor.”

Almost as if on cue, the ceiling above you collapsed, and with the boards and slabs of wood that fell through, a body landed painfully on its back. You ran to the site, looking up. Dick was there.

“Nightwing!” You screamed. “Be careful before you hit someone!”

“Sorry!” Then Dick disappeared.

“Where are the civilians?” you asked.

“Over there.” Jason pointed at a hallway. A quick scan told you the bodies were all over the place. In different rooms.

The windows behind you suddenly burst into flames and eventually detonated. You shielded yourself. Tim and Jason to the ground. When you turned around, another one of Firefly’s goons had their thrower pointed right at your face.

“Falcon!”

You leapt out of sight just in time, and you used the beams to fling yourself up, at the destroyed wall that had now let the colder air in.

A risk, but you took it valiantly. Just like a vault. Nothing different from a vault. You ran, hands to your side, let the wind take you. And you only wished the floor was stable enough, because wishing was all you could rely on. You ran. Then you flipped and your hands were to the floor, placing all your weight to your palms, spinning. Then it was your feet again.

Just at the last ledge, in your true gymnast fashion, your hands pushed you further up in the air, as high as any human could jump up to, then you spread your wings when you reached the peak and soared, right at the combatant that shot his eyes up at the sight of you flying straight at him.

You grabbed him by the throat, wings entangling with your own, then you were a flying mess in the air. His jetpack was already malfunctioning, and you directed it to land straight back to the floor where you came from.

But as soon as you got him back on the ground, the firefly had grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you down so overwhelmingly strong, you needed Tim to smack his head and throw him all the way over to the floor.

“We can't handle these guys alone.”

“But-.”

“Even Jason here’s having a hell of a time.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason snorted. “I’m fine. I’ll try to hold these guys off. Go save everyone.”

He then shot the fly’s jetpack with his explosive bullets, and the light detonation threw him towards a wall.

“Jason!”

“He’s still fucking breathing!”

You panted, the surging nerves, the numbness of your fingertips still there. Jason took care of the fly and hauled him out of sight.

“Come on.”

You went to the rooms, broke down the doors and walls almost with just your foot alone. Two. Three. Four people. A college student. A lone middle-aged man. And in a room far too small for anyone to possibly, humanely live in, a single mother cradling her baby she didn’t even know was still alive. So close to having the smoke take over her lungs, you grabbed the baby with one hand, her arm over your shoulder with the other, then she limped with you as Tim held a small child in his arms, carrying them all out to safety.

The fire was getting worse, and from above, you heard Dick’s screams from being thrown around above you.

You won't have much time before this whole building gives out.

Then, just as you thought you’d cleared the last room, you heard a cry from one of another one of the rooms, the one at the farthest end that had no scans of a body just minutes ago. Now, you saw there was.

And the body was too small for you to notice the first time.

You turned up your scanners, really looked around, for anything else you might have missed. Anything small.

Shit. Another. To the other end of the hall. It looked like an adult, curled up in the corner of his room under a table. Why would he hide under a table in a fucking fire!?

“Falcon!” Tim came up to your side. “You see anyone else?!”

“One there. And another on that side. Let’s take that one first,” you nodded at the door with the child behind it.

“No. There’s no time.”

You both dodged a piece of a ceiling that had fallen in just a foot away from where you stood. Dick. Being mauled too close to death just above you.

“I take him,” Tim said. “You get the child.”

“Tim, I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Another piece of wood from the ceiling. Gone. The wall near you had burnt to a crisp, which made it hurt less when Jason was flung to the ground by another firefly just where the wall used to be.

“We don’t have time to come back for both.”

“And if we don’t, we die!” you said. “I can't leave you alone, Tim.”

“Everyone should be saved. I’ll be fast, then I’ll be right there with you. I promise.”

Tim pushed you to the door, and already he was on the way to the end of the hall. “Be careful!” he screamed at you. With your fists clenched, hoping this wouldn’t backfire on him anytime tonight, you rushed for the child.

“You fucking mosquito son of a bitch!” Jason yelled as his guns went into this uncontrollable frenzy. All over the walls, the floor, anywhere. Just so he’d finally put that flying bastard to the ground. It shot its thrower at Red Hood’s face and so narrowly did he dodge the flames.

He rolled on the ground, eyed the attacker like it was a bomb to defuse. Another shot from his flame thrower, just one good shot, and there will be no other way for him to turn to but even more fire, and it’ll possibly collapse the whole room.

So Red Hood shot at his gun, at his arms. Finally, he got it to drop the weapon to the ground.

Jason grabbed the firefly by the throat as soon as he’d shot down his jetpack, and he flung him across the other side of the debris to trap him, the barricades, to the hallway of rooms where you’d gone into. He stays there long enough and he’d definitely catch on fire. And even if it didn’t, he needed it to be kept away. There were more flies for him to take care of. And they were, quite literally, flying towards him like moths.

A thud, coming from the ceiling above.

Up a floor, Dick wasn’t handling it any better.

Nightwing smashed his escrima sticks against a firefly’s temples, then gave it just enough voltage to stun him. He kicked him off his body, smashing his back against the already charred wall that broke upon impact, but it didn’t take him down. Not yet. Just his ability to fly.

The firefly stood up, snarling much like an animal, then clicked his thrower to point it at Dick. He was leaping, swiftly and gracefully around the smoke-infested debris just to not get burnt.

Dick was finally close enough to grab him by the collar, flinging it over his shoulder, smashing his body against the weakening ground.

But the firefly was too strong, and not long after, he had Nightwing choked to the floor. He had him held down. Dick landed a hit to his face, or what he could see of his face through the mask, then the firefly hit him back. Another. Another. Each time, the floor started to break underneath.

Outside, all alone because he insisted, Tim had safely made his way through the flames.

Always. Every night, by your side. You never left it. Not when it meant his life. Tim was outside, cape to his nose, and he left the building so he could take the nearly unconscious man to the safety grounds away from the smoke. But when he’d come back, pieces of wood had fallen in the hallway where you’d go into and had barricaded the way. You were on the other side. He’d left you alone.

Alone, amid the worst fire you’ve ever had to work through, you coughed out even more of the smoke, tears in your eyes, then broke down the last door in three slams against your shoulder. You were weak, flailing, your chest twisting at the heat and the smoke. But you do not fall. Instead, you push yourself further. Harder.

But it wasn’t anything at all you thought you could handle. You didn’t think you’d be alone in the room where the fire had started. The epicenter. The one so fully engulfed, there was almost no place at all for you to walk on.

You grabbed the child’s unconscious body. He might have been dead by then. He felt lifeless. But as you were on your knees, you almost could not stand. Your weight was too much, and the fire too close to your skin. For a moment, when the pain in your throat and chest came to the very worst, your body started to give out.

At that moment, three things happened. Three things that should never, ever have happened at the same time.

One of the fireflies, the one Jason had thrown right at you and had trapped behind the barricaded debris, picked himself up and saw you from out the hallway. You heard him growl despite the scorching flame.

The ceiling, already so charred, broken, burnt, mists of wooden shards falling right down to your hair. The fighting that went on upstairs was causing it. You couldn’t stay there long. You had to get out before the ceiling collapses. Fast.

And, on top of all that, with the fire that grew worse, your chest twisting, a child almost lifeless in your hands, you were alone. No one was there to help you.

You gained enough consciousness to push the last of your strength. You could do this. You knew you could. If you could just hold on a bit longer, with the child in your arms, and go out the same way you came in, it’d be fine.

But just as you pulled yourself up your feet, the firefly was lunging straight for you.

The child was dead. A boy of six. You were sure of that when something so much larger and stronger than you, that very man who no longer looked like a man, who looked more like a burnt corpse dressed as a moth without wings, lunged at you and grabbed you by the neck. You dropped the child’s body, and the way its limbs were so twisted when he hit the floor, it almost hurt as much as when you were slammed against the wall.

Flashes of red, white, yellow, and even black, the color that scared you the most when it came to circumstances like these, it was all you could see past the gritted teeth that exposed themselves so horribly to you when his mask had been taken down. He was wounded, yet he had the strength to do this, to squeeze your throat so rigidly that in the matter of a few minutes, at least to you, it lasted a few minutes, you were as blue as the night sky. A horrible color when it came to skin.

You wanted so badly to scream, but even if you did, it wouldn’t be of any use. You were alone. And with so much holding you back from just being able to breathe, you couldn’t hear a thing. Not your limbs squirming about, not the man holding your throat crying to let out the smoke from his own lungs, not the fire nor the collapse of the walls. No one had found you yet, and your bones and muscles alike had barely enough will in them to do so much more than just flailing so meagerly. Your lungs, your neck, your throat. It wasn’t enough that you were choking on smoke and debris, his clutch on your flesh gripped on as if none of the flames had any sort of effect at all.

Then.

Then there was the ceiling.

Whoever was up there, he was getting beat up. Hard. And it was making it break even worse. You felt the wood’s dust fall to your eyes. You had to move out of the way, but you couldn’t. No one to help you. No one to help you flee.

Just before that horrific flashes of black and surprisingly inviting, riveting flashes of white overcame everything else your eyes could still pick up, just before that tightening in your neck became less of a pain and felt more of a descent, a slow, painful descent, it all stopped.

You could see color. You could see the flames. The charred wood. The scattered cement from the walls. You could hear it all again. That scorch. That rage. The screams from the onlooking civilians. And the pain was gone. You could breathe. There wasn’t a hand on your throat any longer.

And it all lasted not more than a second. Half of it. A quarter of it even. Still, you felt it, not knowing it might have been your last.

The ceiling above you collapsed.

So did the wall you were being slammed against.

Huge slabs of wood, beams for support, floorboards from the level above, it all came crashing down as if apologetic for the delay, because they weren’t unforeseen. They were expected. You just didn’t get to move away in time.

It hit the firefly’s head the second the first slab tumbled down, and the rest of it followed. With how you fell, and the wall behind you breaking as well, your back was on the floor. But that wasn’t what hurt. Not even a little.

No.

Not when a sizable wooden beam in flames, one that held up the ceiling before it collapsed, fell in and crushed the bones of your leg.

You’d never forget it.

You never thought it was possible for there to be so much pain, not even when it was necessary. And a lot of the time, all the time, in fact, it was necessary. This time, it must have been. It must have been for a purpose. To defeat a foe. To save a life. It had to be.

Because the way that immeasurable weight hit your shin, breaking your tibia in half and twisting it in a way that was far too horrific for any onlooking eyes, you saw it. You saw everything. And God, have you never seen anything so horrifying before.

Then the flames from the beam had spread to your leg. Your suit. Your flesh. That, you felt for a short, agonizing few seconds.

Then, the pain from the burn completely disappeared. Your skin had gone.

Your scream right then, a deathly, ghostly scream, was the worst thing that could have ever heard in your life.

And that scream was what saved you. Otherwise, no one would have known you were there.

Otherwise, not Red Robin, Nightwing, nor Red Hood would have found you, even when it was far too late.

“FALCON!”

“Y/N!”

“NO!!!”

-----

Even in such a drug-induced, near unconscious state, you were aware.

Even with your eyes closed, and your brain playing lighter, less heartbreaking scenes for you to go over in your sleep, you were aware.

Even with everything being nothing more than a blur, the sounds, the lights, the chattering included,

Somehow, you were aware.

You were aware enough to know you’ve been here, on this very bed, for more than a week, and that since then, you haven’t opened your eyes, much less muttered even a syllable for anyone to hear.

You were aware that there were people around you. Sometimes just one, two, mostly three. Three men? Unclear. Often, lots of times, there were more. Different color hair. Different voices. Some sweet. Some deep. Some roughed up and husky. Some nothing more than a whisper.

All of them bearing the same guilt, pity, sadness.

You were aware things weren’t looking so good. Not with a cast over your neck, when you couldn’t even turn to your side when the bruises hurt as much as a tight squeeze. And because of that, when you did manage to open your eyes to some extent, you couldn’t see what went on below your waist.

And judging from what you could see on the ceiling, the murmurs around you, the occasions when you could see the looks on the visitors’ faces, straps holding up your elevated leg, you knew it couldn’t possibly be what you’d expect.

You weren’t awake yet. But you knew where you were. You were aware of what happened. Sometimes you could hear the voices so clearly you felt so close to just talking back. But that couldn’t be, because you were unconscious.

Damn everything.

Damn it all.

Why couldn’t you just be asleep enough to not witness any of this at all?

The last thing you saw, before your eyelids were weighed down by some unimaginable force, was the slightly matted window on the door where you saw Tim’s head facing his brothers’. They were talking.

You couldn’t hear what they said.

But if you could, it wouldn’t have made things at all better.

Tim couldn’t keep his eyes away from you, looking into that window to save his own life and watching you get lost in this illusion of peace, this illusion that taught the people around you that nothing was screaming at all, when in fact you hadn’t stopped screaming since that beam fell. He saw the cast, no longer the shape of a foot, and it hurt all the more to keep seeing it absorb itself into reality.

Jason was right beside that door. He visited just as much as the rest of them. Them being Tim and Dick. But he couldn’t look at you. Not for a second. He hasn’t even turned his head at your direction for more than what he needs to. And he rarely needed to, so he pressed his back against that white wall and let his weight slump him down. He hasn’t talked much. He hasn’t spoken at all.

Dick stood in front of the two, facing the door. He had his arms up to hug his chest. He did not sleep. Not for many nights. He was as bad as Tim now. His once so mesmerizingly bright eyes now stared so dimly and emptily at the white paint, he must have thought to say something, anything, to let out what everyone was thinking right then.

But instead of a word, the first word that day, he ended up catching Jason’s eyes, who glared back the minute he caught Dick watching him for too long.

“The fuck you looking at?”

Dick shook his head, then he let his attention get drawn away yet again by the floor.

“Fuck,” Jason mumbled, then his hand was too harsh on his hair. “Fuck this. I’m tired.”

Dick scoffed at that. “Go ahead. Go home and disappear for three weeks.”

“I meant that I needed to sleep after staying up the past thirty hours, shithead.”

He didn’t face Jason despite him and his nerves popping out of his skin like he desperately wanted to squeeze his eyeballs out of his sockets.

Tim, on the other hand, didn’t even do so much as look at his brothers when he heard them bicker. He just stared at you, how silent and peaceful you looked. Still unknowing.

“How…” Tim swallowed. “How did we let this happen…”

Jason watched the dark corner of the opened supply closet nearby. Dick turned his head the other way, eyes seemingly closed as he listened to the cart being wheeled right past them. That, the scent of ethyl alcohol, the chilling white paint, the flush of cold, and the beeping sound coming from somewhere down the hall, it was all anyone could sense, especially when in so deep in thought.

“We should have… I should have-” Tim finally brought himself to look away from the window. “I should never have let her out of my sight-”

Dick pulled on his shoulder. “Tim-“

“Don’t tell me it isn’t my fault.”

“But it isn’t your fault.”

“I said don’t tell me that!”

He swatted Dick’s hand away and placed his deep into his hood where no one would be able to touch him.

“You think that, too,” Jason chewed on his cheek. “Don’t you Dick?”

“Don’t I what?”

“Blame him?”

He was probably so close to just lunging at Jason just then but he didn’t. Not here. Dick just snarled at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You do,” Tim said. “I know you do. You look at me and Jason like we’re poison.”

Jason shrugged. Dick didn’t know what to say. “Like you two don’t look the same at me.”

“Admit it,” Jason stood from the wall. “You blame us for what happened.”

“I never fucking said that,” Dick growled.

“Good,” he said. “Because so do I.”

“You blame us?”

Jason had his teeth gritted so much they would have broken.

“We all blame something. It’s too hard to admit. But none of us should have to,” Tim whispered. “It was an accident.”

“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if not for us.” Dick chewed on his knuckles, and Jason stood taller, sighing and raising his hands like this ‘point proven’ sort of gesture.

Tim looked back at you again.

“She’ll never forgive us.”

“She wouldn’t have to,” Jason said. “She’ll blame herself.”

“That makes this even harder,” Dick hissed when his teeth dug into his flesh too much. “She has to blame us. At least. It’ll be better for her.”

“Maybe she should be blaming us because we are to blame.”

The silence that followed after was sharp enough to cut glass. Tim grabbed all the hair in his head and pulled, grunting, hissing, gritting his teeth, letting the tears slowly seep.

“Tim-“

Tim laid against the wall. He wasn’t as tired as the two. Staying up for two days wasn’t so much as a change for him. So he had the energy to cry, while Dick and Jason could barely hold themselves up, no matter how much they looked like they wanted to break down themselves.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tim held his head. “I let this happen to her. I left her alone-“

“Tim, you have to stop-“

“Are you convincing him that it wasn’t his fault, Grayson?” Jason stammered. “Or are you talking to yourself?”

“Jason, will you just shut up-“

“You wanna live in this delusion?” He cried. “Go ahead. But you're not doing anything better for him.”

“I am trying to make sure our brother doesn’t beat himself up for something he didn’t do

“And what do you know about what he did? You weren’t there. You were all the way up on the third floor not having a clue what went on.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Todd?”

“You know what. I’m saying this,” he raised his arms and turned from Dick to Tim, then back again. “I’m done keeping silent. That beam fell on her leg because you were up there making the goddamn ceiling fall in.”

“You son of a bitch-” Dick pushed Jason’s chest.

“She even told you to be careful up there,” Jason said. “You didn’t listen.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?!”

“So you’d know you’re not the only one who knows all that.”

“And why is that, huh?” Dick stood him off, chin up high. “Why’d you bring that up? To lighten the weight on your chest? Tell yourself it wasn’t just your fault and that fucking firefly you threw right at her?”

Tim had been silent since Jason mentioned the wooden beam, but by then, his face had shot up and he was staring at the two squaring off.

“You might as well have handed Y/N right into his clammy hands. You threw him over that barricade he couldn’t escape from. Right after you told her you’d keep them off.”

Jason looked like he could break stone with the ghostly look he gave his brother.

“I didn’t fucking know she was there.”

“Then where else would she have been? You told her to save everyone in the building. And you knew she and Tim needed your help keeping them off.”

Jason shoved Dick in the chest. “You don’t think I fucking know that you-“

“Wait.”

Tim’s voice stayed soft, though it was solid. When he looked up at his brothers, faces flushed and just as full of shame as it was so full of rage for the other, Tim stuttered.

“You two caused this to happen?”

What should have been apologies, or mutters, reasons, excuses, fights to be right again, convictions for their truths, perhaps even lies, Dick stared back and his mouth fell shut. Jason got his hands off him, placed them on his sides. He was silent, too.

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

For once, Jason looked at Dick and it wasn’t so murderous.

“Dick-“

His big brother. The one closest to him. He should have been the one to tell him everything. He might have expected this from Jason. But not Dick.

But they had the same silence, the same guilt-stricken, awfully dark, hooded eyes.

Dick started. “You didn’t… You…” He looked around to make it easier. “You were taking all this harder than the rest of us.”

“Clearly, so should you!”

Tim has never raised his voice before. That wasn’t even much of a scream. But his voice cracked, and there were tears at the ends of his mouth.

“Tim-“

“I thought I was the only one to fucking blame,” Tim stammered. He wouldn’t say this. Not when he was calm. Not when it didn’t involve you. He was always so quiet. The one at the corner finding a place to take a nap. Not the one to accuse. To point fingers. To lash his anger out on others.

“I almost went fucking insane the past week. Now you tell me you two were the root of it all?”

This shouldn’t have to be what he felt. This was just his own guilt taking control. He wouldn’t burden others with such blame to lug around.

“Listen, I-“

“The beam that fell, and that fucking goon that held her down from escaping-“

“Tim, it still would have been a hell of a lot better if you were there,” Jason said.

“If you weren’t there at all, none of this would have happened!”

“Oh!” Jason cried. “Okay. It’s all my fault because I did exactly what was agreed on by the team while you left her alone when she shouldn’t be?!”

“Jason -“

“Everyone knows Y/N almost never leaves your side in combat. She always had you. She was better as your protector, which means she’ll never willingly leave you alone.”

Tim’s tears had fallen to his chin. It was too much out of his control. Too much out of anyone’s control.

“I swear if you don’t shut up right fucking now-“

“You’ll what, Grayson?!” Jason pushed Tim aside and eyed Dick down. “Fine. Blame me. If it does you any better, salvage whatever light she’ll see you in, give you more of a fighting chance with her, huh?”

Dick never looked so badly like wanted to tackle Jason to the ground. He never told Jason about you. He shouldn’t have known, but of course, he knew. “You can't possibly allow her to look at you like you cut off her fucking leg-“

Tim was giving Dick that same look. Dead. He was dead to him.

“This has nothing to do with that-“ Dick pushed him back.

“You caused that fucking beam to fall that snapped her bones and burnt off her flesh-“

“Because that fucking firefly you lead to her held her down! She could have escaped!”

“I told you-“

“You didn’t know where she was?!” Dick cried. “She wasn’t anywhere around you. She only could have been in one fucking place. Behind the barricade. In the apartments. You knew she was there. Maybe you thought you killed that firefly when you threw it off. Maybe you thought it wouldn’t reach her. Or, maybe, you just didn’t care. You didn’t think about how she’d be able to handle it. And even if it did cross your mind, you probably thought she could fight it off on her own!“

“Don’t you fucking tell me what I thought in the middle of a fucking fire.”

“Then don’t patronize me ‘cuz I didn’t have fucking pillows around when I got mauled by a bug and not break the ceiling! Or Tim for thinking saving a life was worth risking their own!”

“WELL THEN, I hope you two think it was fucking worth it.” Jason pointed at the window, at the sight of you so motionless on the bed.

“If I didn’t know how much of a pain in the ass you are when your guilt is eating you up, Jason-” Dick stuck his finger against Jason’s temple and he pushed it aside. “I wouldn’t let you hear the end of this.”

“Is this a threat, Grayson?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“Dick, stop-“

“Stay out of this, Tim.” Dick pushed him aside, and Tim shoved him back even harder so he’d hit the wall. Even Jason looked surprised at him.

“I’m not a kid, Dick.”

Even more so would they have fought, right in that very hallway in Elliot Memorial, if not for Bruce Wayne stepping out of the room, only in his sweats, and he shot every single one of them the dirtiest look.

He blamed himself, too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here so much. Not when you weren’t one of his adopted kids, not when he had to sit in that room for hours with your own parents nearby, crying, wondering what happened, not having a clue who their daughter even was.

This wasn’t the first time. Even when you weren’t his child, it was the same as when Babs got shot in the spine.

He never let himself hear the end of it. Bruce blamed himself.

Bruce blamed himself for ever trusting Dick, Jason, and Tim to make sure you’d be ok.

“She’s awake.”

The three of them stood still, staring back at Bruce who couldn’t give them a colder look. One so full of hidden resentment, one he tried to hide. But it was all clear, even from those two words alone. He might as well have spelled it out for them.

‘You are all to blame. All three of you. Even if just one of you wasn’t so careless, this wouldn’t have happened.’

He might as well have said that. He should have said that. They needed that kind of reality being thrown right at their denial. They needed that push.

When he left, already it had shifted.

They were going to have to face you now, actually look at you in the eye, and you wouldn’t have to be told. You already knew why this all came to be. There wouldn’t be any use in an argument, evidence, technicalities, bickering. All that shoving and yelling. It’ll all be for nothing.

Because at the end of the day, no matter how much the brothers wouldn’t want to accept this kind of spilled blood anywhere near their skin, it’ll always be true. The only person they blame the most, more than the others, will always be themselves.

Dick, for not even thinking of being so careful with the collapsing floor, even after you told him to. He should have taken it to the second. Maybe on the street.

Jason, for letting that firefly loose, because he was too confident you’d be able to handle it on your own.

And Tim, for not just letting you go alone, but insisting that he not go with you even when you pleaded. Because he thought he’d stop at nothing to save as many lives. He didn’t think about you.

Being in the midst of fire won't cut it.

Dick broke the silence first.

“I’m sorry…”

Tim and Jason couldn’t look at him. Jason faced his own feet. Tim at the door. His face was soft. No longer so rageful.

Tim spoke next. “I’m sorry, too.”

This was about as much affection, affection as it was, that they’d ever shown each other. Jason tried to brush it off by rolling his eyes, keeping his face out of view so no one would see his face trembling.

“Yeah… sorry…”

This was all there is. Guilt.

They can blame whoever they want. It’ll all stem back to their own self-blame that was chipping their flesh away like maggots.

Tim took the first step to the door, heading into the room, and Jason and Dick followed right behind him.

They couldn’t go anywhere near you. Not like this. Not even when they were the boldest. They couldn’t. The cowards they were stood the farthest, lined up a few feet away from the foot of your hospital bed.

They couldn’t possibly face you, not when just minutes after you’d woken up, already your cheeks were soaked and your cries eerie and painful. Your eyes were swollen, neck held back with a cast.

Barbara held you in her arms. Barbara. Of course, it would be Barbara. The only one in the family who knew what it was like to wake up in a hospital and so suddenly lose a bodily function, something so simple as to walk, and not be able to do it just like everybody else. Not being complete anymore. Not be whole.

She was a few of the lucky ones to find that clinic in Africa that gave her that implant. You, on the other hand, probably won't be so lucky.

You. You woke up in that bed, and you didn’t have to hear anything from their conversation outside. You knew exactly what they talked about. You were aware. You didn’t have to hear any part of it or even see the expressions they bore.

That moment you sat up, just enough so you could see just how much damage had been done.

Your right leg had burns. Red marks, scattered all over your skin and ones you knew wouldn’t heal so lightly. You’re to see them for the rest of your life, and you’ll never escape it. The burns went all the way down your toes.

But not even that worried you. You couldn’t care any less about your skin. At least, you actually still had toes on your right leg.

The left one.

The left leg.

You didn’t have one anymore.

You had two thighs.

You had two knees.

One shin, one calf behind it.

Five toes at the end. Burnt as they were.

And the other.

Nothing. Air.

A stub. A useless, ugly stub, sticking out just three inches from your knee. You couldn’t even feel it sting, not when you could obviously see just how much had to be cut off.

Then.

You screamed again.

From a few feet away from the foot of your bed, Tim was in tears, wanting so badly to come to your aid and hold you. Jason looked smaller, despite being the tallest in the room. Right then, he shrank himself from the shame. And Dick. He was shaking. For once, he didn’t know what to do.

Barbara’s soft arms held you so tight, but none of it could muffle your cries.

-----

Could one blame you?

If they’d just known the whole story?

Even after two years, two horrible, spectacular, overly eventful years that passed by all too slow and too fast,

Even after you’d gotten over the nightmares that came and went when you couldn’t sleep without feeling that flame surge past your flesh,

Could you even blame yourself? For not knowing who to trust? To open up to?

Could anyone blame you for being so god-awfully confused, now that you admit to being confused, and so indecisive? For not knowing what, or who would bring you to that eventual happiness?

Could anyone blame you for wanting some kind of release to let all this go, and find that release as yet another option to oblivion? Could you blame yourself for being so desperate, stupid, so careful, just to allow yourself to move on, at the same time convince everyone else that you had?

The only thing you had for yourself after all that were your paints and canvases. They could only have done so much.

But now, with you in front of the Wayne Manor’s staircase fixing up the last of your canvases on a presentable easel, it had gradually felt like it was, in fact, enough.

Tonight, at almost six in the evening, you’d set up twelve of your newest works, the best you’ve ever made. Gotham skylines. Portraits of unknown faces. Hillside landscapes. Action shots you’ve taken from around the city and copied.

You fixed the last one, just as Bruce came up to the foyer with an outstretched smile the moment he saw what you’d fixed. That man rarely smiles.

He eyed them all, more carefully this time, paying attention to detail. You explaining those details when he didn’t catch them. You explaining each of your pieces. Him nodding approvingly.

“This will be a great for everyone, Y/N.”

A smile. “Thank you.”

“And it’ll be amazing for the children most of all.” Bruce kept his eyes on the portrait of an unknown woman with beautiful dark skin. “Will you really give everything away?”

“Everything,” you said. “I won't keep a cent. This is what the auction’s for.”

Bruce beamed at you with so much pride, probably just as much, maybe even more, than he’s given his own children.

Not long after, he left and had Alfred help you out with putting everything back in your satchel. You were smiling. You hadn’t stopped smiling for a while.

You placed the first easel and canvas back into the bag that you’d laid in the staircase just as you heard rumbling footsteps coming from directly above. And just as you thought they’d get nearer, they stopped.

You looked up, and it wasn’t anything you hadn’t expected, nor prepared for.

Dick, however, looked surprised in the least. His hand on the railing caressed the gentle wood as well, motionless the moment he caught your eye. You were calm, serene, and somehow, that smile didn’t even leave when you met his gaze.

His mouth parted open, and by then you didn’t want to just stand around. You nodded at Dick, silently, then you went back to the second easel.

“This dastardly thing,” Alfred muttered. You laughed and started to walk over to him, if not for Dick and his strides longer than yours.

“Here, Alf.” He helped the old man with the knob. It folded right away. Alfred rolled his eyes. “I can take it from here,” Dick said.

Alfred raised his hands, landing harshly at his sides. “I never could work any of those contraptions.” You found yourself feeling warmer at that sight of how gently he’d helped him and handled the knobs. You worked in silence. He did, too. He did not speak. Neither did you.

But even after such a high-strung chain of events, and the drastic way it all had to culminate, with you right back to where you started, there wasn’t at all a feeling of torment, awkwardness. Sure, it wasn’t all the same. You weren’t as close. The laughs felt a bit off. You didn’t hold his hand anymore and maybe you didn’t let your gazes linger for too long when he was so brightly lit by the sun or even just a single bulb. But you were friends. You were there. It was more, so much more, than how it could have ended.

You twisted the knob for the last easel, crouching down, but the base wouldn’t stop hiking up from the ground. You pulled your hair back, squinted, then as a shadow blocked your light, you looked up. Dick was there. He was smiling at you and he held the top of the easel down so it wouldn’t move when you unhooked the knob.

You smiled at him. Softly. Sweetly. He smiled back at you and it kept with the current of that growing peace. He held the easel, and you the canvas, when you went over to your satchel to stick it inside.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You placed the satchel at the side of the staircase, away from the steps. Dick watched you with his head down intently. Then when you made your way up, hand on the railing, you heard him speak just when you thought he had nothing else to say.

“I’m watching Bruce Almighty tomorrow morning.”

You turned to face him, and that bashful grin made you want to chuckle. You allowed yourself to.

“I’d love to join you.”

Another nod, silent, then you went up the stairs. You heard him go to the parlor.

Peace. This must be it. Peace.

Four months of peace, since any other incident happened. This was what you needed. Time to think. A chance to know what things were, what you were.

Because all there was that replaced that hurricane beneath your chest was this bright, breezy whirlwind that instead cooled down those very thoughts.

You reached Tim’s room, knocked three times, and stepped in immediately taking off your sweater.

Tim was leaning against the headboard and had his laptop resting uncomfortably on top of his lap.

“Tim,” you groaned. “You're not working are you?”

“Nah. Among Us streams.”

You snorted and picked your phone out of your pocket, scrambling to his side. Tim shifted, giving you some room, then when you settled beside him, he laid his head on your shoulder. He kept his eyes on his laptop and you made sure he didn’t change so much as a tab. Four months of seeing his sleep schedule back on track, his coffee a tenth from before, and his workload split in half, it calmed you to see him this way. It even made his skin glow.

As he kept his eyes on the screen, you pulled out your phone, with that expected twinge of disappointment when you saw you haven’t a message, the same for so many weeks.

You opened your texts anyway, just to make sure.

You: ‘Hey. It’s been a while. Call me?’ (12 weeks ago)

You: ‘Jason. It’s me. You didn’t change your number again, did you? (11 weeks ago)

You: ‘I guess you did. I’ll keep texting anyway. No one’s heard anything from you in so long.’ (9 weeks ago)

You: ‘Hey. Call me? We heard it got bloody in that raid yesterday. I hope you're alright.’ (6 weeks ago)

You: ‘Hey.’ (2 weeks ago)

That was it so far. You didn’t want to bother him. He didn’t want to be bothered.

But, just today, you let yourself annoy him. Even for just that day in August.

You: ‘Happy birthday, Jason.’

Peace. With everyone. With yourself.

You needed those months to know what it was like to not have any of them at all. To just be a friend. Not a lover.

You let your head fall on top of Tim’s.

A few hours later, you jumped at a ring on your phone. You glanced at it, eyes squinted. It was almost midnight.

Jason: ‘Thanks.’

So much of a smile, and a gentle spike up beneath your chest, when you stared at that message for so many minutes. Partly to let that warmth linger. Mostly out of surprise.

Peace.

You knew there was peace.

But peace did not mean fulfillment.

You still couldn’t tell anyone what you needed, what would hurt less, what choice you were supposed to make.

Because it wasn’t about that anymore.

This was you. This was time for yourself. Four months of not even pining or thinking about boys, working on your pieces, not mulling over your unrequited love or your broken heart or your broken memories or that sheer memory of what happiness used to mean to you. You never needed that. It was you, and every unfortunate event that life had forced into you, that made you so confused.

You still couldn’t make a choice right now, but you weren’t confused anymore. It wasn’t about what you needed, and you didn’t need any of them. Those four months told you so.

But you did want to have love. Eventually. Soon. One that lasts.

Eventual happiness, the ones that can only come from loving and being loved by another, from family, you knew could only be found within them. Dick, Tim, and Jason. You knew it was one of them. For so long as you could think, you knew you couldn’t find that kind of happiness elsewhere. You couldn’t imagine loving another.

Which means, with the peace you had in you now, calming the once tyrannic tides you’ve been forced to reckon with, you knew your heart was there, with one of them. The challenge will be to find out who.

And from now on, you knew you had to choose, and actually think about who to choose, and no longer will it be about whoever lessens the pain, to give in to pressures, to the overwhelming declarations, the to release that pent up whatever’s. This time, in your state of peace, you will figure out who you loved and will stay in love with for the rest of your life. Solely. Wholeheartedly.

You will choose for love.

No longer to just go with the tides.

The tides, you realized, had been there since that very night. That night you had to get your left leg amputated because so much of your flesh had been burnt and your bones were beyond repair.

The tides, you realized, had stemmed from not just your hatred for yourself, for that blame that inevitably crowded your already populated mind, but had stemmed from their guilt. All three of them, because of how much they blamed themselves and how much they let it destroy them just as much as it destroyed you. Because of that, of how they let their resentment for each other and themselves get the better of them, drive them to do so many things they wouldn’t be so proud of, which made that start of the year so hellish. It was all of you. Your anguish for yourself. Their resentment for their self-blame.

Dick not knowing how to treat you right after, treating you differently, treating you like you couldn’t care for yourself. Almost getting married, then later not. Spending too much time with you, then not making a move. You assuming what was worst, then so suddenly, him pouring out his heart just before he was asked to leave town and not see you again.

Jason keeping his distance, staying away, not even calling in the holidays when he wasn’t around, and only ever calling any of you when he absolutely had to or felt like it. Knowing what his brothers felt, and knowingly inching himself closer to you when he saw you hadn’t chosen either just yet. Taking advantage of your vulnerability to quench his desires. Almost using you to get back at them. Then breaking your heart.

Tim trying too hard to make it up to you, buying so many of your paintings even when it wasn’t so necessary when he knew you wouldn’t decline. Confessing his love that night after Dick’s wedding, when you hadn’t a word to say back. Confessing his love for you again, kissing you on Christmas Eve, even after how much he’d hurt you before. You unknowingly choosing him, only for him to make that decision for you and drive you away, even when he thought it was best.

But then, of course, there was more. So much more than just that.

These vicious tides, caused by a disturbance, an accident that wasn’t so often deemed an accident, were not alone, it not for the chilling breeze that went with it, the moon that pulled them that was silent and beautiful, the shoreline that remained unmoving, warm to the toes when it needed to be. The rustling of trees. The ones that surrounded the tides, overpowered them.

Dick not wasting a moment when he saw you upset, filling so many of your days with the kind of contentment you could never bring to yourself. Never missing the littlest things that so much as caused a smirk up your lips, and bringing those details to life to earn that smile. Supporting you the most, with your passion for artistry, your hobbies, the things you loved to do, he pushed you to do. Watching you, caring for you, giving you everything you wanted all for the sake of seeing you happy, even when he should or shouldn’t. Even when you were never his to begin with.

Jason knowing exactly what it was like to be you, understanding that, letting you know that he understood, that you weren’t alone in any of this at all. Knowing he didn’t have much of a chance, stopping himself from falling in too deep for his own sake, but not when it was you who needed him to fall. To at least be with him. Giving you that solitude, letting you know that he, too, wanted to treat you well, wanted you to feel just as beautiful as he thought you were, even when it pains him in the end.

Tim loving you from the moment you met. That sweet, fairytale love story of when you were friends first, and his love that grew from that. Best friend turned lover. Your love story, how you came to be, could all be a novel on its own. Caring for you, staying even after a relationship that hadn’t worked out the first time, knowing you needed him more than anything and anyone there could possibly be. Your partner as heroes, your partner now. Albeit friends or lovers. It didn’t even matter. And after then, even when he loved you so much, still kept your best interests in mind, only ever thought about what was best for you, or what he thought was best for you, all for the sake of you no longer being hurt the way you used to.

That was what surrounded that cruel tide that pulled you back miles away from the shore you just wanted to land on. That tide. That night. The guilt. The blame. The loss. The regrets. Those were the tides, and everything else, it was beautiful.

So now, what will it be? Other than to place it all to the side, forgive that night for what it did to you. move on. No longer will you let it pull you with its current. No longer will you let it get in the way of your happiness. Of their happiness. No longer will you let its lingering darkness settle for too long before it settles for good. No longer will you let the loss of your damned leg cause the loss of your whole life and happiness.

Because of course, they weren’t to blame. Blaming yourself, or someone, would mean they were solely responsible for the penalties that stemmed from what they did, intentional or not. They weren’t responsible. Not even a bit. For what else would it be, other than an unfortunate arrangement and timing of events, something far beyond the control of even the strongest deity. That if the same things done were done differently, would at all be the same. No, they weren’t at fault. They weren’t to blame.

And if you did believe that they were, even in the slightest, then it would be why you’ve been how you had been, how you just couldn’t know, or admit to yourself, who you were to give your heart to. Why you couldn’t open up, afraid that somehow, deep within your own crevices, you hadn’t forgiven them.

But it wouldn’t matter. You have forgiven them, at least now, if they had done anything at all that was to blame. And you didn’t think so. You couldn’t bring yourself to think so. Not when you no longer let that loss be the cause for further pain than it’d already rooted.

No longer, not with who they were, and how they loved you.

Dick, who always had to love you from afar, and never let that love falter despite it being so painful and tempting.

Jason, who had to fight against that love thinking he hadn’t a chance at making you as happy as he knew you could be.

And Tim, who won your heart the first time and gave you these wonderful years as a soul who couldn’t be more perfect beside yours.

They were selfless, gentle, caring young men, who’d bend the world for you if they had to.

One of them, you were sure, will ultimately, wholly, have your heart.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

A/N: The next parts definitely won’t be as heavy as this one, but to those who stayed behind and leave the loveliest comments, know that I’m here at all because of you guys 🎉

MAIN TAGLIST:

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur, @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @damned-queen-of-gotham, @idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @get-loki, @everyday-imfangirling, @comic-nerd-dc, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @egdolan, @xemiefx, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @mythicbitchx, @lucy-roo, @roseangel013bf, @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, @pinkforest05

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 54

First

~~~

The lady’s watch beeped.

Marinette grinned as she pushed herself off of the couch. She dug into her bag and handed over a wad of cash. “Thanks, Linda.”

“Of course.” She watched the woman count it and then put it in her pocket. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Nah, I’m going to see my better therapist.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Harley lets you give in to unhealthy coping mechanisms, that doesn’t make her better.”

“Lalalalala! Not listening!” Said Marinette, ducking out the door.

“Right! Don’t forget your homework! Five more good things about yourself!”

“Oh nooooooo you’re too far away I can’t hear you!”

Linda groaned. “Ladybug, please.”

She sighed and stopped. She turned around, flashing a small smile. “Fiiiiiine, I’ll do it.”

“And they can’t have anything to do with how you help others.”

Marinette cursed. “I should have kept walking.”

“Too late! Have a good week!”

She spun on her heel and threw a wave over her shoulder. “You too!”

“And tell Red Robin to stop by!”

“Will do!”

She hummed lightly and ducked into an ally. “Spots off,” she said. She opened her jacket pocket and let Tikki fly in. She’d stopped using her purse to hold the kwami a few years back when a guy had attempted to steal it and she’d nearly given away her identity trying to get it back. Besides, she never had to open her pocket, so there was no stress when she was paying for something.

She pulled a normal yoyo from her pocket and started playing with it as she walked out the other side.

Marinette glanced up and grinned as she spotted the familiar yellow and black outfits. Signal, Orphan, and Queen Bee had recently started doing daytime patrols. Crime had dramatically decreased since, and Bruce was more than a little bitter that he hadn’t thought about it.

She gave a tiny wave and grinned when they sent some of their own. Marinette had given up on trying to keep the fact that she was friends with pretty much every vigilante in Gotham a secret. It turns out you don’t have to worry about people coming after you to hurt your powerful friends when they are, in fact, afraid of said powerful friends.

She heard her phone go off in her pocket and grinned. Also, the publicity was amazing for her business. That was also good.

She grinned and opened a portal under herself, dropping into the Siren’s living room.

“Hey, darlin’,” said Harley, who was far too used to this by now to even blink.

“Kid’s here?” Asked a Catwoman from the kitchen.

“No. I was talking to the plants,” said Harley sarcastically.

Poison Ivy glanced up from watering her plants. “Hilarious. But please do, they grow better when you talk to them every day.”

Catwoman sighed. “Whatever. What do you want to eat, kid?”

Marinette plopped down on the couch. “I’m not a kid. I wasn’t even a kid when you met me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!”

“Then why don’t you tell us your identity to prove it?”

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Catwoman. “Do I look like I’m under eighteen?”

“Do I look like I’m older than thirty?” Catwoman retorted. When she saw the small smirk forming on Marinette’s face she quickly cut her off: “Don’t answer that.”

She huffed. “Think about it. It’s been ten years, do you really think I was eight when we met?”

“Who knows. Human kids all look the same to me.”

Marinette groaned. “I’m not -- you know what? I don’t care anymore.”

“You do, though,” cooed Harley.

A scowl made its way onto her face. “Whatever. Can I use the misty-thingy?”

Poison Ivy handed it over and Marinette spritzed Catwoman. The woman hissed and batted it away.

“I’m choosing dinner,” she said dangerously as she disappeared to the kitchen.

Marinette fought between the instincts to laugh and curse, handing the spritzer back to Poison Ivy. She rested her head on Harley’s lap and smiled to herself as the woman started to braid her hair.

“We still on for that raid on Sunday?” Asked Poison Ivy.

“Sure. I’ll see if I can get Red Hood to go.”

Harley laughed. “I’m sure Batman wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

“Has that ever stopped him before?”

“True, true.”

Catwoman emerged with what looked like a burnt brick. She dropped a plate of it onto Marinette’s lap.

“Eat up, kid.”

She went a little pale as she stared at the food in front of her.

“Well, you see, about that...” She opened a portal under herself and disappeared.

She heard a click from her earpiece and flicked it on.

“Right, found one. Looks like a normal mugging,” said Jason.

“Location?” Asked Damian.

Jason gave his general area and sighed. “Right. I’m heading in.”

She listened in on the fight as she hopped from rooftop to rooftop.

Ever since Dick had taken up the Batman mantle (Bruce had, for the most part, retired), he’d made a few changes to patrols.

The first thing he’d done was make it mandatory that they communicate when and where they were getting in fights and transmit the audio. There had been the usual amount of backlash that arises when the bats are asked to do something for their own good, but they’d stopped complaining that it wasn’t necessary when Tim had walked into the manor for coffee with a knife sticking out of his side.

(She was pretty sure that he’d done that on purpose, but whatever.)

Next, he’d set up rotations so people actually got sleep some nights. They switched between two teams. The first (and best) was made up of Jason, Marinette, and Damian. The rest of the time it would be Dick, Tim, and -- occasionally -- Bruce. Most criminals opted for nights with the second team. She never could figure out why --.

They heard the click of Jason’s gun and Dick’s voice cut in: “Don’t kill them!”

Jason scoffed. “What’re you gonna do if I do?”

“I… Mari, tell him not to kill them.”

“Jason --,” she began.

“I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“-- is a grown adult who can make his own decisions.”

She could practically feel Jason’s smirk as Dick cursed.

“Damn, why are you so easy to buy? I’ll... um…”

Bruce cut in: “I’ll build a starbucks in the room next to yours.”

Her eyes widened. “Jason, if you pull that trigger I will never talk to you again.”

“You wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

“Try me.”

There was a short silence and then the click of a safety turning back on. Jason mumbled about how it wasn’t fair, along with a lot of other colorful things.

Marinette, however, was grinning.

She slipped into the house and yawned.

Damian looked up from where he was petting Chaton on the couch.

She raised her eyebrows. “Not even gonna detransform?”

He sunk into his hooded jacket. “It’s comfy.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Whatever, give me my cat back.”

“He’s our cat.”

She huffed. “He’s my cat. Give him back.”

“Why don’t we let him choose?”

She scoffed lightly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not while you’re still Kitten.”

“I told you to call me BatCat!”

“And I told you that I’d rather you beat me to death with a spoon.”

He stuck his tongue out at her and detransformed. They set the cat between the two of them and made cooing noises.

Chaton went to Damian without even sparing her a glance.

“Traitor,” she murmured.

Both of their phones went off and they checked them.

Ah. The Thesmartones chat. It included Riddler and every bat except for Dick

The partners both groaned and opened the chat.

Riddleboye: Can one of you test my new escape room?

Her phone blew up and she glanced at the different chat. Whohastodoriddlersriddlethistime.

Queenbee: Not it

Therealdamianwayne: Not it.

Bruecbrucewayne: not it

Redhoodiewastaken: not it :)

Brucesfavorite: not it

Coffeeismygirlfriendmarinetteismywife: Not it!

Imsurroundedbyidiots: Not it

She groaned when she realized she was the only one who hadn’t done it yet.

Notsleepingwasaconsciousdecision: i hate you all

Damian had the audacity to laugh. She sent him a tiny glare and kicked him in the side. He cursed and she was only saved from his wrath by the cat currently resting on his stomach.

She went back to the original chat.

Notsleepingwasaconsciousdecision: im free monday night

Riddleboye: Thanks!

Notsleepingwasaconsciousdecision: its fine see you then

She raised her eyebrows as she stepped into the room and saw Tim awake, clicking away at his laptop. This wasn’t exactly new (far from it, really) but it was still sometimes, somehow, surprising.

She changed into her now well-worn hoodie and crawled into bed. She picked up her newest project, a new costume for Red Hood, and started stitching.

He wrapped an arm around her and drew her close so he could type.

She rested her head against his chest. She stitched in time with his heartbeat.

Her eyes glanced over his screen and she sighed lightly. “No information yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope, still don’t know how to help lower his cortisol levels back to normal. There’s nothing on it.”

“Yeah, it’s almost as if no one else on Earth has Scarecrow’s problem.”

This earned an eye roll. He closed the many tabs on cortisol inhibitors and pulled up a spreadsheet for work. “It’s always ‘reduce stress!’ and ‘take fish oil!’ and other things that we’ve already tried.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing else we can do. We just have to hope that his therapist can help him work through it.” She blinked. “That reminds me: Linda said that you need to see her.”

“But I don’t have to see her again until Wednesday!”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Thurs -- actually…” She checked her phone. “Friday. It’s Friday.”

Tim cursed. “So, that’s what I forgot.”

“What, the week day or the therapy session?”

“Both.”

She rolled her eyes.

He pulled away slightly for a second to grab his drink and then handed her a coffee. “Behold. Just the way you like it.”

A blush rose to her cheeks as she took it from him. “Oh, sweetie, you shouldn’t have!”

“Don’t worry about it. I was already making some for myself and yours isn’t hard to make.”

She grinned. “It’s going to be easier to get from now on. I told you I could get Bruce to buy us a coffee shop.”

He huffed and rested his chin atop her head. “Shut up.”

“Eloquent.” She teased. “Anyways, I think I’ve achieved favorite kid status.”

Tim laughed. “Please, bean. You’re not even his favorite daughter. Remember that time he bought Cass an entire police station’s equipment?”

She rolled her eyes and set down her project so she could cross her arms over her chest. “Shut up.”

“Eloquent,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face.

She laughed and tipped her head back to press a kiss to his lips. “I’ve decided I’m getting a divorce.”

He finally set his computer down, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. “You wouldn’t. You love me.”

She smiled and reached up, cupping his cheeks in her hands. “I do.”

Marinette pulled him down for another kiss.

~~~

Holy shit. It’s over.

Right, I’m going to get sappy for a minute so if you don’t want that then I would like to just thank you for reading! You can stick around if you’d like and if not then I hope you have a good life! <3

Okay, now for the emotions stuff.

For context, I’ve been writing a book for the better part of three years. Writing a book is... hard. Shocking, I know. But, in all seriousness, I’m not even halfway through.

I was getting really burned out on writing, and one of my creator friends suggested I do a ‘break project’. I didn’t want to jump into another book but I wanted to keep writing, so I said ‘fuck it I’ll go back to my roots fanfiction it is’.

I’d been reading a lot of Daminette lately, so I decided to put my own spin on the ship and write a cute fluffy fanfiction of around 30k words. Ha.

But, seriously, this project has been really therapeutic for me. It’s showed me that I can actually write a decent story, that people enjoy my writing, that I don’t need to go back and change things constantly...

This was kind of supposed to be a one-time thing and then I was going to disappear, but I found myself actually enjoying writing fanfiction.

I don’t know.

The plan is now to continue. I have another fic that I’m currently plotting out. It won’t be daily uploads, because each ‘chapter’ is going to be an arc in itself and I don’t want to rush that. I’m not going to give too much of it away, but it’s another mlb x dcu crossover so stick around if you want some of that.

Since I’m still in the planning phase and all the chapters are going to take ages, I’m opening up requests. Feel free to submit a prompt. Or ask me questions if you’d like. I’ll answer in 2-3 business months.

With love,

‘Olivia’

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru @spicybelladonna @ultimatetornshipper @cute-angi @blu-raydisc

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #satisfied #maribat #red robin

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Robin and Red X

Just a silly thing I wrote for @animemangasoul. Hopefully this makes you laugh a bit, hon! No edit whatsoever.

The titans were having a difficult time reconciling their easy going, funny, sure of himself leader with the hot mess in front of them.

“Uhh…”Wally, the bravest of them all, places a careful hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should… call your dad?”

Robin turns to look at him so fast it almost looks like his neck broke. Beast boy screams, turns into a rabbit and jumps into Raven’s arms, because the sound that came from Rob’s mouth wasn’t human at all.

“If any of you call Batman, I’ll personally ensure living hell for everyone in the Team. This is MY case!”

Wally hastily retreats, hands up in a surrender gesture.

“Okay, okay! I’m just saying, chill. This Red X dude has been giving us all too much trouble, maybe Bats could point us in the right direction or…”

They think Dick said ‘no’, but it was more of a demonic screeching.

“But we’ll respect your wishes! Because you are our friend!”, and you scare us shitless, he added in his mind.

Roy signaled at Wally, the moment Dick turned his back to them again. Something like ‘are we calling the Bat anyway?’, to which Wally replied ‘I don’t have a death wish, fuck no’.

They never really get around to capture Red X, but no one dares to bring up asking Batman for help again. The mysterious anti hero keeps kicking all their asses each and every time they face him, always having a countermeasure for their specific powers or abilities, but honestly? He’s not as scary as an unhinged Dick could be, so they’d rather fight him than wait for bathed breath for Dick’s revenge if they went behind his back to solve the case with his old mentor.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Jason hasn’t inherited the Robin cape from his predecessor. Dick wasn’t happy, seeing a new kid using his suit without permission, when he himself apparently hadn’t been ready to let it go.

But Jason wanted to be Robin. Needed it. All the good he could do… the people like him he could help… This was his chance of doing right. Of proving the world (proving himself) he was not like his father, a complete and utter trash that belonged in the dumpster that was Arkham. That he, a street rat, could be a hero.

So he fought for his right to the mask, even if he sometimes felt the itch to go wild and do his own thing. Because honestly, being Robin was awesome, but having Batman constantly breathing down his neck? Yeah, not so much.

So when Dick, now Nightwing, approached him one afternoon while Bruce was out on business, he was both weary and desperate for some distraction.

Which was exactly what the dude provided.

“What I’m going to show you”, Dick starts, slowly, after he’s checked there are no ears on them, ”it’s Robin’s secret. The only one we manage to keep from Batman. What our ancestors saved for us, our legacy.”

“We are the only two Robins, dipshit.”

“Shut up this is a formal process. Do you wanna know or not?”

“Just… tone down the roleplaying.”

“Fuck off, that’s the best part.”

Curiosity trumping annoyance, he watches as Dick places a briefcase in the coffee table where he was doing his math homework.

“This right here, it’s all the information, anything you ought to know about our mantle’s most important endgame. This is Robin’s never-ending mission. Our Moby dick. Red X.”

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

When Jason approached Tim with the briefcase, Tim’s first thought was ‘he’s going to bribe me’- an automatic response after working on Wayne Enterprises for months now.

The second was ‘he has someone’s head there hasn’t he. Am I going to be an accomplice? What crime was this, and can I hide it from Bruce?’.

The third and final ‘maybe I should ask him first’.

His -thankfully sane now- predecessor reached the little nook where Tim had tucked himself, in hopes of staying hidden from Damian long enough to enjoy the mannor’s wifi without having to stand his bitching. He sits cross legged in front of him.

“So. Give me all you have on Red X.”

This was… unexpected, but not unprecedented. The family tends to think of him as a convenient alternative to some criminal wikipedia sometimes.

Obediently (because then he’ll get to go back to his research sooner), he rattles out what little he could scrounge on the antihero. It was, admittedly, not much; any younger hero had not heard of Red X, as he’d been dormant for some years now, and the older ones were forbidden to talk about him by Dick himself. The first Robin had claimed ownership of the antihero, and anyone caught working on his case without his permission would find themself with their life turned around in the most inconvenient of ways before they could even finish burying the evidence. With Bruce taking a neutral stand on the matter, merely respecting his son’s wishes, no one was willing to risk the fury of someone with Batman’s resources and knowledge.

Except, apparently, Jason, because he was opening the briefcase and turning it in his direction.

“Let me tell you a lil story, that Dickie shared with me some years ago. I wasn’t a good predecessor for a long time ‘ere, Timmers, and I wanna make it right by properly passing this on. The true legacy of Robin; the mystery of Red X.”

“I… I’m not Robin any longer”, he blurted out, though his fingers twitched to touch the contents of the briefcase, to go through all that juicy, sweet treasure.

“Doesn’t matter. Dickie gave Robin without your permission, but this… this only I can pass on, just as you can only pass it to the brat when yer ready. No one can take this away, or Dickie loses the claim he has on Red X.”

Jason opens the briefacase all the way, then.

Tim drops his coffee.

Suddenly, there was something way more important. As unholy as it sounded.

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

When Damian was invited by Drake to their own private ‘bonding night’, he was weary but hopeful. He’d been trying to fix their bond for some time now, so he could not ruin this chance, as suspicious as it sounded.

So they watched a movie, ate vegetarian pizza (Damian felt emotions when he realized Tim knew, paid attention) and complained about their older siblings and their role as Robin.

“It’s just… a heavy burden”, he admits. If someone can understand his feelings, it’d be Timothy after all.

“I get you. There’s also the matter of Dick’s and Bruce’s expectations on you.”

“I have to be perfect for them, all the time. The smallest mistake and… I could lose my family. But I feel so trapped…”

Tim’s hand found his and squeezed it. When Damian looked up, the older teen had a compassive look on his eyes.

“I might have the solution for that.”

As if he had planned this (perhaps he had), Tim retrieved a briefcase from under the couch they were occupying.

“Dick gave this to Jason, and he to me. Now, I’m passing this on to you.”

Damian tilted his head, a bit confused.

“I.. am already Robin.”

Tim smiled and pushed the case closer to him.

“This is even better. The freedom to the bindings that come with the suit. Open it.”

Curious, still weary but unwilling to lose any ground he had gained with his brother, he obeyed.

And promplty dropped it to the ground.

“What is this?!!”

“This”, Tim smiles, cheshire-cat-like, “is the Red X costume, and all his toys. Including, but not limited to, a perfect holographic devise, to use to make people think you are fighting Red X, to clean your name should anyone suspect the truth. I’ve been using it all this last few months, to…”

“Ruin my life?!”, he yells, because it’s not a secret Red X had came back from dormancy to utterly fuck with Robin, taunting him and beating his ass at every turn. It had been doubly frustrating, because everyone refused to speak about the antihero to him, so he had no information on the man to hunt him down properly.

“Chill. I just.. needed to vent a bit. And this suit helped me, which is the entire purpose of Red X.”

“I...don’t understand.”

Tim placed the briefcase in the coffee table and inched closer to Damian.

“Dick created the alias back in the day, when the pressure of being a perfect Robin became too much and he just… wanted to fuck shit up. Unwind a bit. He couldn't do it as himself and lose all the respect from the other heroes he had managed to amass, so he needed a scapegoat for it.”

Damian felt a tug of interest in his gut. He tried to surreptitiously look at the briefcase.

“Being Robin is tiresome. It’s too heavy a burden. Always perfect partner, always a goodie two shoes… Red X allows you to go wild, be gay-do crime sort of thing, without meddling from any other hero in the community. Burn a warehouse. Use the rocket launcher B has under lock and key. Fuck whoever dumb crimefighter you dislike the most up. Stir shit whenever you feel life’s been too quiet. Let go and have fun... Damian, aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you just want to go ape shit?”

His fingers were digging into the suit before his older brother could even finish talking.

#my writing #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #red x #robin #nightwing #red robin #red hood #batman #crack #just crack guys #no plot #batbrothers #Batfamily Fanfic #my writting

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whereflowersbloom · 4 years

Text

Special Mission

Friday evening finds Raven sprawled on the floor of one of the empty rooms in the Titans Tower. Dick had given them permission to convert one of the rooms into a hang out spot since it wasn’t being used for anything else, and tonight the female Titans joined forces with a little help from the guys, to transform it in the biggest, softest, ultra-cozy pillow fort in existence. Tonight was an special occasion. Mar’i was staying over tonight for the first time.

There’s a mountain of pillows, a few bean bag chairs, and soft blankets in light colors covering every inch of the floor. A couple board games are stacked to the side, such as: Chutes and ladders, Race to the treasure, The floor is lava, which isn’t practical if you are playing with a speedster, half-kryptonians and other meta humans, if you asked Rose or Tim. Not too far from there is a television and gaming system Jon and Beast Boy set up. Gar brought some games Mar’i enjoyed last time she visited.

There are a couple of bedsheets hung overhead to give off the effect of a tent, soft fairy lights in pastel colors strung along the edges with adjustable brightness, illuminating the enclosed space. It was Rose’s brilliant idea. The new Titan member claimed to be not good dealing with children but proved to have a gift for decorating.

As soon as Raven stepped inside the room, she thought it definitely contrasted if compared with her room, designed around a dark colors palette. She was completely positive the little girl would like it though. Truth be told Raven was tired and wanted nothing but wrap a blanket around herself and sleep for the next two days. The only thing keeping her from doing it was just little Mar’i standing close to her and looking at everything with wide dreamy eyes, her bare toes wiggling into the softness of blankets. She let out a high-pitched, girlish giggle. The mission tonight was to make certain Mar’i was entertained and safe her first night away from her parents. Piece of cake.

The half-alien girl liked soft and cute things, Raven has noticed. It’s not hard to when she had spent the entire time running her little tanned hands through the fluffy blanket she had been given, wrapping it tightly around herself, calling herself a purrito proudly, needless to explain it was something Beast Boy had taught her.

It was rather enchantingly adorable Raven admitted, a smile curving her lips, meanwhile Donna was snapped a couple of pictures to send to Jon, who immediately replied with endless crying emoticons, unfortunately he was away on a mission with Damian. Quickly Jon sent a text saying they’d probably be home after dinner. Raven was sure Jon showed the picture to his partner, so Robin made proper arrangements to make sure he was at the Tower before his niece’s bedtime. Damian would never acknowledge it, but he secretly relished Mar’i’s attention and adoration.

Mar’i isn’t looking too happy now, she’s looking around as if searching for something or someone, and Raven wonders what went wrong. She replayed the events of the day. Rose entirely disregarded the planned, detailed schedule Robin left for Mar’i’s Grayson visit, declaring it was bullshit and it was time to be spontaneous and have some fun. They all agreed.

They played some of the board games, setting some elementary unbreakable rules, no cheating or using powers. Donna braided the girl’s long dark hair into something overcomplicated but cute. Karen had suggested to watch Netflix, the platform contained a variety of shows appropriate for children. At the end Mar’i had chosen to watch an old cartoon called Adventure Time, that had all of them looking attentively at the television with the same rapt attention all five year olds have, Donna was even gasping and cooing along with Mar’i.

Raven had zero experience babysitting children. They did save children on daily basis, citizens, not her friend’s children. The interaction was limited, this was different to a whole new level. The first time Kori and Dick brought toddler Mar’i, Raven was a bundle of nerves. Thankfully Kori patiently taught her everything she needed to know to look after a child.

And because she’s a organized person, who is little by little becoming a part-time babysitter apparently, she’s fully aware of the the importance of keeping to a schedule as closely as possible. It was also something Damian had repeatedly reminded all of them.

They’re halfway the second season, waiting for the girl to wind down before bed with little success. Raven immediately noticed she wanted something so she patted the little girl’s back, soothing her anxiety away.

“Is there anything you want, Mar’i?” Raven asked in a whisper.

Little Mar’i looked at Raven with teary eyes, tugging her shirt down. “Mar‘i wants Dami.” Oh it made sense. She was looking for a familiar face. Someone that reminded her of his father. Family.

The little girl clung to Raven, clutching onto the fabric of her shirt, she was burying his face in her chest. She obviously missed her parents. But Damian was on the mission with Jon, she doubted they would be back before dinner.

Raven chewed on her lower lip and tries to explain the situation to the five year old. “Damian is away fighting bad guys, like your dad but he will be back after dinner.”

The girl shyly rose her head, the slightest hint of hope sparking in her eyes. “He’ll be back? Really?”

“He promised and Damian always keeps his promises, right?” She smiles warmly at The little half-alien. Thinking of way to stall time before Damian and Jon get home.

Mar’i shook her head, she was wearing a pink dinosaur onesie, curled up on herself, hands in loose fists pressed to her chest, and an apprehensive little frown on her face. “But Mar‘i wants Dami now.”

Raven needs a workable emergency plan. Mar’i hadn’t shown signs of Starfire’s powers but she couldn’t risk upsetting a five year old and unintentionally awake them. This called for backup, a momentary distraction.

Hey Mar’i, would you like to play with someone else?” Raven asked gently, and the girl chewed on her lip and looked down and away. “Do you want me to call Conner?” The Titans pushed and it’s worth it, Mar’i’s head snapped back up to her, glowing green eyes wide with hope, before she looks away again. “I want to play with flyboy.”

“I already texted him. He’ll be here any mi-“ Rose waved her phone at them with a pleased smile on her face only to be abruptly interrupted before Faye could finish speaking.

The door to the room slammed open, making them all jump and jerk their heads towards it. Raven is surprised but already has her shield up, protecting Mar’i who is behind her, her heart hammering in her throat. It took her thirty seconds to recognize the bold invaders.

“What’s wrong with Mar’i? Rose said it was a red code.” Conner urgently demanded, standing in the doorway, a completely destroyed door beyond repair next to him, his electric blue eyes shifting around wildly as if looking for a threat, body braced in a battle stance. “Dude, You didn’t have to destroy the door.” Beast boy appeared, an annoyed expression on his face.

Raven blinks several times, recovering from the shock faster than everyone else, processing Conner’s words. Red code. She gave Rose a reproachful glance.

“What? Could have been one.” Rose said indignantly, and shrugged uninterested. “She wants to play with you, Supernerd.”

“Oh. That’s the emergency?” Conner said in surprise, and straightened up, his face embarrassed, turning red. He shifted a little in place, looking away from them, rubbing at the back of his neck self-consciously. “Um. Sorry for barging in like that...and breaking the door.”

“Well prepare for trouble.” Gar said with a wide smug smirk on his green face, standing next to Conner, elbowing his partner’s side. “And make it double.” Conner mutters playfully. Well, at least the dynamic duo would keep Mar’i entertained buying them time.

Karen broke the tension by laughing. “Damn Kon-El, that was faster than I expected.“ The rest of them started laughing a little too to shake off the nervous energy in the room. It’s not the first time Conner jumps to action and damages the building, but it’s kind of unsettling to have the intensity of Conner usually reserved for criminals and other threats turned on them. Conner kept apologizing nonstop until he locked eyes with Mar’i.

“Do you like the Superheroes, Mar’i?” Conner said smiling at her and instantly wanted to smack himself, of course the kid liked them, her parents were heroes and the rest of her family. He was still getting used to interaction with children. What would Clark do?

The small girl nodded enthusiastically in reply. “Mar’i likes Titans. I’m going to be like mommy and daddy!” She exclaimed, bounding in excitement. Well, at least Conner had managed to break the shell.

He climbs over the mountain of pillows and blankets and sits down on Mar’i’s other side, and the girl immediately scoots a little closer to him, gripping the hem of his baggy shirt, which has Superman’s distinctive Symbol printed across the chest. Conner instinctually put a hand down on the floor behind her back, giving her more space to press against his side. “Why don’t you tell me what you did with the girls today and after Gar will let you ride him while he’s in his dinosaur form.”

“Mar’i watched Totoro and Adventure time and played Race treasure.“ She spoke struggling with the difficult words and looked up at Kon-El, her eyes shimmering with eagerness and excitement.

“Hey! Don’t talk for others.” beast boy complained, looking at him with squinted eyes.

“Come on, BB. Do it for Mar’i.” The little alien approached Gar, opening her arms for a hug. Looking at him with expectant green eyes. “Dactyl.” She kept muttering the word over and over, tugging at Gar’s pants insistently. Gar’s lips turned up ever so slightly, slowly. He looked at her with unsure eyes, and it compelled her to offer a sunny charming smile. When she did beast boy’s face softened, and his shoulders relaxed as he sighed in defeat. “Pterodactyl got it.” He shape-shifted into the flying dinosaur.

They spent around an hour playing ‘catch me’, Mar’i sitting on Gar’s back, Conner flying around the room carefully not to destroy anything else. After ten minutes playing, Donna joined following Raven and the rest of the girls. It was their only chance to act like children, the childhood some never had the opportunity to experience, letting it loose, enjoying at their hearts content. Mar’i was truly a blessing. They decide to take a break when Raven noticed her phone is vibrating. She automatically answered.

“Robin here. Mission was a success. No damage or casualties to report.” Damian said quietly into the phone in his ear, observing the traffic slither along below. “What is the status?” Damian asked tentatively. Part of him was concerned what could happen if he left the Titans looking after Mar’i while he was away. He didn’t doubt Raven was skilled and intelligent, capable of handling the situation. Perhaps he was too alarmed for nothing.

“Under control. We are about to have dinner. Mar’i did ask for you though.” Raven whispered faintly, chewing in her cheek.

Damian took a shaky breath and didn’t hesitate to reply “I’ll let Jon know we are leaving right away. You’re in charge, Raven.” There’s a long silence before Raven realizes Damian hung up. She ran her fingers through her hair. Nothing could Damian Wayne. “It’s time for dinner everyone.” She announced loudly, quickly pulling her attention back to Mar’i.

Everyoone walks towards the kitchen and discussing what they would like to have for dinner: Gar and Conner pizza and she heard Mar’i mention pancakes and mustard.

~~~

That night, dinner was fun. After a few minutes, everyone’s chatting cheerfully, Conner loosened up enough to joke around ever so slightly. He was cautious still, of course, but so was Raven, watching closely Mar’i, she was her responsibility. She seemed to be comfortable with all the Titans. Conner warmed her dinner with his heat vision, making her look in awe. Raven scolded him saying it wasn’t necessary to and it was dangerous. Everyone else laughed merrily. Conner didn’t speak too loud like some of the others, and he wasn’t intimidating, like Damian. There were only few people who could see through Damian’s tough facade. Raven liked his gentle and kindhearted soul. She was sure Mar’i could see them too. When they are almost finish they heard the sound of footsteps approaching. And they were home.

“Where is Mar-Mar? Uncle Jon is here.” A high-pitched voice resonated in the Tower. Followed by a ‘shut your mouth, Kent. You aren’t her uncle.’ Mar’i tilted her head curiously.

"Dami here?" The girl asked, bouncing a little. She cheered when Raven nodded, smiling, thoughts of her uncle Dami whereabouts disappearing from her mind as he walked in, picking her up carefully, she wrapped her small arms round his neck and buried her face in his chest. “Dami.”

“I am here Mar’i.” Damian pats her back affectionately, placing her right on his lap. Damian promised to read her stories until she fell asleep. Jon stood beside him, claiming it was her turn to play with Mar-Mar, and how unfair Damian was being to him, but Damian refused to let go. He had a promise to fulfill and he kept his word.

~~~

It’s dark and comfortable. Raven delighted nights like these the most, when everything feels quiet and unhurried, no drama to deal with. When she can lay down with Damian and just breath, taking comfort in each other’s presence without the need to fill the silence with conversation. It was a much needed break after a long day. Damian for someone who's so tightly packed with muscle, his solid chest, makes an excellent pillow, she decided. A pillow who was currently running his hands through her dark hair. “Did you miss me?” Raven asked teasingly.

“I’d rather be here enjoying your refreshening and warm company than Kent’s” Damian said smugly, voice already rough with sleep. The low sound rumbled through Raven and she finds her mind shutting down without her consent. They were both exhausted.

“It isn’t the same when you aren’t around.” She murmured quietly. Her eyes fluttered, body relaxing as tense muscle melts into jelly.

The door creaked and Damian half twists, lifting his face to look at the door, finding Mar’i in the doorway, standing there in her pajamas, looking unsure and a little scared. “Uhmm. Mar’i wants to sleep with Dami and Rae.” Raven immediately softens and moves making space for her.

“You wanna join us, Mar’i? Come here, it’s snuggle time.” Raven pats the bed, the gesture makes the girl realize it was a sign to get into bed with them.

She pulled the door shut behind her and quickly crawled on the bed, slowly wedging herself under Damian’s arm between Raven and Damian.

“Are you okay?” Damian asked worriedly, sitting up a little. Ready to jump to action if she needed anything. He learnt he couldn’t let his guard down not even when he was relaxing with his soon-to-be girlfriend.

“I couldn’t sleep. I want to watch tv.” Mar’i whispered, her eyes on Damian as if asking for permission. Damian nods approvingly.

“Anything special you want to watch?” Damian questioned, looking over at his niece, as he gets up to get his laptop, placing it in his lap, lifting an arm and putting it over Raven’s shoulders so she can lean back more comfortably and have that little extra space. Mar’i half turns and scoots into a more comfortable position, stretching her tiny legs. “Kiki’s delivery service.” She instantly answered with enthusiasm in her voice.

“Good choice.” Raven grabbed a blue blanket she brought from their new fort room, unfolding it over the three of them.

Mar’i watched the movie with undivided attention, eyelids slowly drooping as the movie flies by until she falls fully asleep pressed against Damian, who was breathing steadily, sleeping peacefully. She felt safe between Raven and Damian, protected, it reminded her of her parents’ warmth and love for her.

~~~

The next morning Damian wakes up to an empty bed. That was not what he excepted. He gets up slowly, mouth uncomfortably dry and with a dull headache from sleeping more than usual. He looked at his phone it read ‘9:00am.’ Tsk. He overslept that was strange but considering how hectic the last weeks has been. It was a possibility his body was suffering extreme fatigue.

Blinking blearily, he made his way downstairs, he stopped when he hears voices from the living room and debated to just say a quick greeting to everyone on his way to the kitchen, or focus on his objective, Raven and Mar’i, but startlingly he gets caught with his mouth half open to speak at the scene in front of him.

“Why is my precious niece floating on a broom?” Damian asked skeptically, not sure of it was a dream or his mind was hallucinating. He finally rubbed the tiredness out of his penetrating keen eyes, watching as Mar’i weightlessly sat on a worn broom, both hands wrapped tightly around it and smiling widely, excitement in her growing green eyes. Raven’s has one hand on the broom, controlling it. So it was real. He reason if she was with Raven she was safe.

“I am a witch like Rae.” She squealed breathlessly.

“Mar’i, I’m not.” Raven shuts her mouth, sighing softly. “You’re a witch. Yes.” She had no idea how Dick and Kori had the energy to deal with the unstoppable hurricane Mar’i Grayson. She supposed it was something she’d find out one day, she told herself. Her violet eyes glancing up to Damian for a second.

It’s here @chromium7sky @andthendk @ravenfan1242 @quoth--the--raven @deep-in-mind67

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pop-culturereference · 4 years

Text

Up High

Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson

Relationship: Damian Wayne and Tim Drake

Summary: After KGBeast shoots Dick, Damian is angry. He even contemplates killing KGBeast. Good thing Tim is there to talk him down. (Even if Damian was tempted to kill the KGBeast, he would not actually do it. idk what DC was thinking with this arc in Teen Titans.)

From the tallest building in Blüdhaven, the city was completely different. Damian sat, dangling and swinging his legs, as the sun rose and shone off of the water in the bay. Up close, Damian knew, the water was murky and clogged with bobbing debris, but the glint of the sun hid that from him when he saw it from all the way up here. It was quiet; the noise of the streets didn’t reach up here—the workers cleaning the streets, the screeching of the metro, the shouting.

Grayson had taught him to love places like this. Up high, everything was different. Grayson had called it “a clearer perspective.” He’d told Damian, “I come up here to re-orient myself. You know, Robin, when you’re down there, everything is so up-close and you’re right in the thick of it. The buildings are taller than you, you get shoved and pushed in the crowd, and the streetlamps are just bright enough to show you all the rats crawling out of the sewers.” He’d taken off Batman’s cowl then, and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s the same thing with being Robin. You have to look at it like this. That way, instead of showing you the rats, the streetlights are like stars.”

Damian had scoffed. At the time, he didn’t believe anything Grayson told him: he wasn’t Damian’s father; his father was dead, and Grayson thought he could replace him. Now, though, he felt like Grayson’s words had seeped down into his bones.

That was good, because Grayson probably wouldn’t be saying any more of that; it was Damian’s duty now to hold onto as much of him as he could. Just after Damian thought he had his brother back, KGBeast had shot him in the head, and he was gone again. That was what brought him up here: he needed a clearer perspective. He itched to kill KGBeast. It scraped at his every thought. He couldn’t go a day without rage crawling in him.

How was any of this fair? First, Damian had died. Then, he came back to life, but Grayson was dead. They’d been reunited and things had miraculously worked out, and Damian had been almost ready to believe that the world was a genuinely good place. But after all that, after things aligning so well, finding hope, KGBeast had ruined it. Grayson deserved better, and KGBeast deserved worse.

Damian kicked his legs harder against the concrete of the building. Above the city like this was the perfect place to make his choice.

Grayson was the one who’d taught him the value of life. He would be disappointed in Damian if he killed the KGBeast. Damian could already picture the look: Grayson standing sternly with his hands on his hips, but sadness and pity in his eyes. Grayson would never make that look again. Grayson was no longer Grayson.

Something had to be done. The world was unfair, and Damian wasn’t going to wait for it to take away the only good things he had left. Grayson was gone and Ric wouldn’t care; Ric didn’t even like Damian.

Earlier that day, when they were finally allowed into the hospital after the surgery, Damian planned to tell Grayson about the animals. He always liked hearing about them; he would smile, ask questions, and try to ruffle Damian’s hair, so Damian hoped that it would distract him from the possibility of forced retirement from Nightwing.

“I am teaching Ace how to open doors, he is progressing very quickly. He now fetches my blades for me, even when my door is closed. It was a brilliant-”

“Look. Kid. I’m sorry, I don’t know you, I don’t know your dog, and I don’t care. I’m not Dick. I need you to leave me alone.”

“Do you remember Pennyworth? Last week, he caught Alfred, the cat, in the-”

“What part of leave me alone don’t you understand? I. Don’t. Know. You. I can’t babysit, God, I’m strapped to a hospital bed! Get! Out!”

Damian had stormed out and come directly to Blüdhaven to get above and away from everything. The tear tracks on his face had long since dried, but he didn’t think he could face everything yet, so even as the sun rose, he stayed. The sunrise was beautiful but cruel. He couldn’t start another day with his family, he could never adjust himself to Ric in Grayson’s stead.

The world was horrible, and killing KGBeast wouldn’t fix the damage he had done, but the world would be slightly better with him gone. Damian was already a killer; he’d killed more people than he could count, not that he’d ever bothered to keep track. One more wouldn’t make a difference.

When the sun rises above the waterline completely, he thought, I’ll leave, and I’ll track him down and kill him.

Until then, he looked out over the city and tried to find what Grayson saw.

Damian could almost hear him saying, Don’t worry so much about it, Little D. The point is to not worry.

“Tt. Nonsensical as always,” he replied to the voice in his head. Then, “I,” he started. He quickly looked around, just to double check that he really was alone up here. “I miss you already,” he whispered. He felt the beginning of tears and snot, so he sniffed and blinked until they left.

When the sun left the water, he stood up and turned around to leave, only to see someone else on the other end of the roof.

“Damian,” Drake called.

“Turn around and jump off, Drake,” Damian called back. He stood with his arms crossed. Had Drake followed him there? Was he going to lecture him? Did his father send him?

“I just talked to Dick,” Drake said, walking closer. That gave Damian pause—did Grayson send Drake? “He told me to leave him alone.” With every word, he stepped forward and he didn’t have to yell so loud to be heard. “And, he told me that he sent you away and that he wasn’t a damn babysitter.”

Drake sounded bitter, so for once they had something in common.

“Tt,” is all Damian could say, unable to even come up with an insult for Drake.

Drake sat down where Damian had been sitting just barely watching the sunrise and patted the concrete next him, motioning for Damian to sit. Damian did not.

“Dick loved to climb up high,” Drake said. “I think it made him feel at home, plus, he always said something about perspective.” He heaved a sigh and craned his head back to look at Damian. The sun glistened off tears in his eyes. “You and I both know that the Dick we saw today was not Dick. One day, he may make it back to himself, but for now… I think it’ll be a bit.” He pulled one leg to his chest and let the other dangle off the edge as he continued, “I know he loved you a lot. I can’t figure out why- I’m sorry, forget I said that last bit. What I’m saying is, even though we haven’t ever gotten along, I want to try. For Dick.”

“Tt.” Damian took a hesitating step toward Drake, then lowered himself down to sit next to him. He refused to look at him, though, eyes on the horizon. Drake moved to pat his shoulder, but Damian grabbed his hand and twisted. “If you try to touch me again, I throw you off.”

“Ha! So endearing. I see now why Dick likes you so much.”

After that comment, they sat in silence for a while. Drake swung his legs like Damian was doing earlier, so Damian very pointedly did not kick or swing his own.

“You know,” Drake said, glancing at Damian from the side of his eye, “I don’t think I ever quite understood Jason until today. Dick was shot, and Bruce does nothing? Weak. Doesn’t Dick deserve more than that, after everything?”

“My father-” Damian starts, defensively, but Drake doesn’t stop at the interruption.

“Then, I realized, I get it. Bruce is right. If we went and killed the KGBeast, that would just continue a cycle of violence. It would just go from generation to generation. Bruce passes it to us, just like Talia passed it to you.”

“My mother-”

“Changing the world isn’t easy, Damian. Especially for us. It always starts with little things like this. If we killed KGBeast, why don’t we kill every criminal? It would be unfair to only kill criminals who only hurt us personally.”

Damian agreed. If he killed the KGBeast, he would have to kill most criminals he met. For the sake of justice and fairness.

Drake sighed and turned his head to Damian, trying to look him in the eyes. Damian still refused to look back, gazing out over the city.

“Not every criminal, not even every murderer, deserves to die,” Drake said. “I stick by this more than ever. I need to, for Dick. God, Damian, when you first showed up, I thought you were hopeless and that we either needed to send you back to Talia or lock you up. You had killed people, and, sorry, but you were an insufferable brat.” He huffed a short laugh. “Still are sometimes.”

“I will push you off.”

“Wait, Damian. Listen, for once. It took years to convince me. Dick kept telling me that it wasn’t really your fault and that I just had to give you a chance. I never really did, and I’m sorry for that.” He took a deep breath. “That’s his legacy. His legacy is you. He loved you and was so proud of you, Damian. And he was right. I hate to say this, but I just needed to give you a chance. What do you say? Will you give me a chance?”

“Tt.”

Drake laughed, a little teary. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

They sat in silence as the sun climbed the sky and the shadows shortened. Damian still itched to kill the KGBeast, but maybe that wouldn’t be justice after all. He had been just about to leave and hunt him down when Drake showed up, but now, he’d thought better of it.

“Drake,” he said.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need babysitting. Tell that to Grayson when you see him next. And, also tell him that... he was right about perspective.”

#damian wayne #tim drake #fic #batfic #batfamily #dc #dc comics #please comment lol

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red-winters · 4 years

Text

*Batfam fic-recs

*Some are Tim Drake Centric

**Some links are not working in mobile (and ONLY mobile) for some reason? And some titles that were bolded in the original post are ALSO not displaying on mobile correctly. Idk what to do about that, but you can still look up the fic, I guess.

The Bat’s Crest - livierambles

Note: I will always keep recommending this fic. It’s epic, thrilling, and hilarious and sometimes angsty. Also, everyone is confused, including the ones doing the confusing. Maybe especially the ones doing the confusing. Also, some Tim and Damian bonding, which is always nice.

Summary: Tragedy strikes the hero community when Bruce Wayne commits a crime so heinous even the best start asking for blood. However, as the heroes try to recover from the hit and carry out justice for their friends, a random assortment of people start acting oddly, including the current Speedy Tim Drake, a child hostage in Gotham, and a young man from an unremarkable circus amongst others. All of them seem intent on saving Bruce Wayne from the grasp of the Justice League for no apparent reason, going as far as betraying their previous allegiances.

Unknown to the Justice League, these people are equally confused. Clearly they're stuck in another dimension, but how do they get back? How did they even get here? Who else is stuck in this world? And how long will Tim's patience last? Back home, the Bat was a planetary symbol that struck fear in the hearts of criminals. In this new world, it has no meaning, save for the handful of stranded souls.

In the Shadows - Kieron_ODuibhir

(shortened) Summary:

“I’m not like you.”

The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.”

Chirp - AmariT

Summary: Every piece of the signal Tim unlocked revealed more locks, and by the time he broke through the last one, he was already mentally rehearsing his many upcoming talk show appearances. 'Yes,' he told the interviewer, 'it was difficult for me, a ten-year-old genius, to break open the worldwide alien conspiracy. That's why it took a whole hour.'

When the crackling audio started, he expected some weird alien language. Maybe squawks and high-pitched squeals mixed with musical woofs. Maybe they wouldn't talk at all, and images would beam directly into his mind. Maybe they'd talk in practiced English with a Midwestern drawl like their other resident alien.

Instead he heard a low, guttural voice growling out of his computer speakers. "Robin," it said. "Are you in position?"

A Better Cage - Mangaluva

Note: I was absolutely DELIGHTED to see a Young Justice Crossover with the Justice Lords (Earth-50) from the animated Justice League series, which is near and dear to my heart. I admit I haven’t really had much time to hunker down and read this, but even skimming, it’s an intriguing piece of work. Also, Justice Lords.

Summary: Wally's grateful to have woken up at all, really. He just doesn't know what to make of the world he's woken up in. At least they want to find a way to his world as much as he does, if not exactly for the same reasons...

Common People - AmariT

Note: The Bat boys are all Bruce’s blood sons, but it still feels very much like a found family. I haven’t really read everything in this series, but I feel the author has an amazing grip on all the characters. Lovely and heartwarming.

Summary: His whole life, Jason’s mom had told him his dad was Bruce Wayne, but he’d never been dumb enough to actually believe it. They lived in a rundown, one-room apartment in the worst part of town, and in every single picture he’d ever seen of that rich bastard he was wearing a suit or sipping champagne worth more than everything they’d ever owned.

But if he wasn’t Bruce Wayne’s kid, then what the hell was he doing sitting outside the man’s office in Wayne Towers?

Red Robin and the Hood - momoejaku

Note: Haven’t read this in a while, but it made an impression. Though it’s a fic set during the Red Robin arc, it very much is about both Tim and Jason. Plus, it fleshes out the Pru and Z a bit more, too.

Summary: Bruce Wayne is dead. Superman brought back his body, and the family mourned him, holding a quiet funeral in secret so that the legacy of Batman could live on. But not everyone has been able to put him to rest.

Reeling from the loss of Bruce, his identity as Robin and his trust in his family, Tim Drake sets out on a personal quest that will take him across the world to prove what he knows in his heart: that Bruce Wayne is alive.

Though intending to make his way alone, Tim reluctantly accepts help from his predecessor, Jason Todd, who knows from personal experience that death is not always as final as it seems.

Together, they are Red Robin and the Hood.

Liminal Spaces - Calamityjim

Note: Skimmed this only since I’ve been busy, BUT it does look well-written, and I’m always a sucker for alternate dimension/dimension travel intervention-type of fix-its. It’s a very specific trope.

Summary:

Bruce's habit of collecting strays is not limited by dimension.

When Young Justice Batman comes across an angsty, seemingly abandoned by his Batman Tim Drake, he decides to step up to the plate and parent the crap out of him.

Little Bird’s Vengeance - KatHarkness-Katara

Note: Crossover with Avengers. Awesome fic with Tim and Jason and some Outsider POV (via the Avengers) of these dimensional stragglers. I think Tim’s team shows up in the later chapters, too. If you’re reading on mobile, it’s still very much worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version.

Summary: Why is life never simple? Red Robin's ended up worlds away from home once again, and now what's he to do? What do the Avengers want from him; do SHIELD have another agenda; and is there any way back? Pre-New 52. No slash. Rated for inevitable language/violent themes.

A Displaced Red Robin - dragonprincess1988

Note: Worth reading despite FF.net’s horrible format and abundance of advertisements in the mobile version. Well-written fic! EMOTIONS! I love them. Younger Dick Grayson is adorable, Tim is a competent fixer-upper for other people but not so much himself. He’s kind of angsty and making YJ Dick want to keep him (and YJ Bruce, too, if you read between the lines). On the plus side, seems like he’s making good friends with Young Justice Roy. This fic was written before certain episodes of YJ came out, though, and the fic reflects/will continue to reflect that. Still, I give it five stars.

Author’s Summary: Tim gets transported to the cartoon Young Justice world, and he's not sure he knows how to deal with it. Attention: If you want to know about Artemis or people from Tim's world the final note on my profile is for you. Also, a special thank you to angel-gidget over at Tumblr, who made the wonderful cover art for this story.

The Till-then From the Ever Since - Keiron O_Duibhir

Note: Fandom classic. Definitely a must-read for Batfam fans, in my humble opinion.

Summary: It began, or seemed to begin, with Jason.

Usually that would have meant something in the order of fire and explosion and probably at least one gunshot wound, but for once (as Tim said, sourly), it wasn't actually Jason's fault.

The Wayne Family Ghost - pupeez4eva

Note: Please read this. Especially if you’re sad or anxious or just have time. I couldn’t stop laughing. It’s my go-to cheer-up fic. Absolutely hysterical.

Summary: In which Bruce realizes that having a legally dead son, who regularly hangs around the family, might be slightly problematic.

Bloodline - chibi_nightowl

Note: Complicated family dynamics, this time centering around Tim, Selina, Bruce and, surprisingly, Damian. Jason and Dick make an appearance as supportive big bros, too. It works. Take a read, it isn’t that long.

Summary:

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.”

Tim blinked. “My what?”

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

Talon!Tim AU Series by keeptogethernow

Note: Found family, from a different angle. Cool fic and well-written.

Summary of Tso’ape Mumbichi, first in the series: Ten years ago, two people made a deal with the devil--unlimited funds in exchange for their child. And now it's time to pay up. But there's no way to ensure that the child will cooperate.

Shutterbug Series by goldkirk

Note: Exactly what it says on the tin! Found family.

Summary:

Tim Drake is thirteen, runs the famous BatWatch blog that has spiraled hilariously out of control, has absentee parents that suit his purposes just fine, is training himself to run the streets at night, and is doing absolutely peachy, thank you.

Alfred and Jason disagree, and get Dick and Bruce involved in figuring out their weird next door neighbor kid’s life. Everything goes uphill from there.

Thursday’s Child - anthalogia

Note: Well-written and has found family and Tiny!Tim? Automatic win.

Summary:

He’s not the first child with nowhere else to go that Bruce Wayne has taken in. Dick Grayson was the first and the most high-profile – because no one would have thought Bruce Wayne was interested in ever raising a child, let alone the orphaned son of circus performers – but Jason was maybe just as much of a shock to society for being a street kid who came out of seemingly nowhere. Tim Drake is ordinary by comparison – his parents died in a plane accident. He can’t think of anything very special about him except that he met Bruce a few times when his parents hosted parties to keep in touch with Gotham society.

Or, tiny Tim Drake is adopted by the Waynes a little earlier than scheduled.

We’re Not Driving (How did we get here?) - TimTheToaster

Note: Short and sweet, a little angsty, and then very sweet.

Summary:

Tim stared at his phone, as if that would change what was on the screen.

Dick Grayson @FlyingDGrayson

It took some doing, and in some cases a little blackmail, but we've finally got the whole family together for a movie night! #WayneManor #movienight #familytime #schedulingisanightmare

15 minutes ago

Take It Back Now Y’all - TimTheToaster

Note: And Tiny!Jason has made his appearance. Also, Tim, I am begging you to please take care of yourself—ah, Bruce has made his appearance. Interesting. Also, I gotta say this author is good.

Summary:

There was absolutely no way this sunshine was from Gotham in April.

Not possible.

Which meant, Tim was no longer in Gotham, in April.

(In which Tim finds himself in the past, and tries to do the right thing. It's more complicated than he'd like.)

Takes a Little Time, Takes a Lotta Twine (To Get Us Back Together) - TimTheToaster

Note: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, beginning of reconciliation, and brotherhood. A satisfying, cathartic moment during the Red Robin arc to soothe your heart.

Summary:

Tim was in Gotham.

Tim had pretty specifically been avoiding thinking about Dick as much as possible for the last few weeks.

For the last year, really. No need to open that can of carnivorous worms.

Dick had other plans.

Everybody’s Heard (Bird is the Word) - TimTheToaster

Red Robin Era ANGST, but like, deliciously well-written. Also, protective Dad Bruce is always epic. Light bashing of Green Arrow and BC, though. But considering the situation (in this fic), kind of warranted.

Summary:

5 times Batman heard other heroes talking about his wayward brother,

And 1 time they were talking about his son.

A Choice to Make - scorbusfics

Note: fresh and interesting premise! Cool world building, too.

Summary: They have to choose. Dick and Bruce have to choose one person each to save, and one to disappear through the door.

“Send one of us,” Dick says fiercely, not for the first time. His face is dark and angry and desperate, eyes flicking from brother to brother. “Send one of us instead. I won’t choose.”

“Neither will I,” Bruce says.

But Tim knows.

Secret Places - RenaRoo

It’s ANGST, but the author knows how to use it well. Also, Jason’s line at the end killed me. Damn.

Summary: Tim Drake goes missing. The search to find him begins.

#fic recs #batfam #tim drake fic rec #batfam fic rec

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itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Family

So here’s the newest installment in my batman series :) I’m super excited for this one, especially with the response from my last two stories. I’m so used to using sites where the community is dead lol. This is very refreshing and motivating. I already have four out of the seven chapters written out!

There's a Web That You Have Wove pt. 1

The one good thing Halley Wilson could say she’d taken away from her father was the ability to function on a minimal amount of sleep, a skill she’d never really had to put in action up until recently. The months flew by as she grew accustomed to her new life in Gotham City and she soon found her body adapted to the schedule she found herself repeating day in and day out that would be overwhelming to any other regular civilian.

She couldn’t believe it’s already been nearly six months since she took up Bruce Wayne’s offer to become his newest crime fighting protégé. The time flew by as she spent night after night pounding her fists into the scum of Gotham’s underbelly. Although she wasn’t nearly as popular as Batman, or even Robin, she’d already started making a name for herself. People started whispering her name, criminal’s starting to turn the other way if they saw her jumping from building to building.

It took some training to learn how to fight less lethally, learning that it was okay to pull back some punches here and there. It was tough for her at first, her first instinct always having been to take down her target as quickly and efficiently as possible. But she knew she if she wanted to work for Batman she had to adhere to his rules. Justice, not vengeance, he always said.

She grumbled, staring down at her textbook as she remember him repeating the phase last night on patrol. He hadn’t directed it to her, rather his other sidekick, Robin. Halley remembered the agitation Jason felt as Bruce laid it out for him once again as they reached the Batcave after another vexing night. Their weeks’ worth of tailing a smuggler had been thrown out the window and even Halley could help but feel some short of way towards Jason for screwing it up. She did believe though that Bruce went a little bit too far when he decided to bench Jason for the rest of the week.

They had followed their guy to an abandoned apartment building, and after a few painstakingly boring hours of recon for the two teens, who’d been itching for a little action, Batman decided it was time for them to make their move. They leapt to the opposing building, sneaking in from above and quickly and silently began clearing out the complex.

There were a couple dozen of guys and what appeared to be hostages, confirming that Batman’s hunch was correct; this was one of the safe houses for who people in Gotham merely called Stan the Pimp. His name made it pretty obvious as to what his career choice was and normally Batman wouldn’t interfere, leaving minor (minor to Gotham’s standards) for the cops to deal with. But when he caught wind of Stan taking his trade further, dabbling in adding children to his line up, Bruce knew the Batman was needed.

Jason showed a particular fire during their little raid, jumping ahead of Batman and Nightshade once they came across the room filled with the missing kids. Nightshade tried going after him but Batman ordered her to stay with the children until the police came, Alfred already sending out a signal for Jim Gordon of their location. Nightshade held the room, immobilizing anyone who tried to enter the room with her poisoned darts. They were non-lethal of course, but naturalizing agents she and Bruce cooked up, her wanting to start incorporating her name with her whole gimmick. If Batman could put the word bat in front of everything he owned, she could have a couple of poison darts here and there.

It wasn’t until the ride home in the batmobile did she realize something was wrong between the two. Batman was usually stern and quiet after a long and successful night, but there was something off about him. Especially the look he gave Jason when he took a seat in the front next to him. When they arrived back home it was than when her feeling was proven correct. She thought she’d be the one struggling to take it easy on the criminals of Gotham, knowing how kill a person in at least a hundred different ways, but she’d yet to have an incident of going overboard.

She had learned however that Jason was an entirely different story. He had no limits, Bruce’s lessons still not drilled into his head somehow. He pushed Bruce’s buttons as hard as he could, always seeing how far he could go in a fight. He hadn’t come close to killing someone yet but whereas Bruce fought to solely subdue, Jason fought to send each criminal he punched to the hospital. Which was were their guy ended up last night.

“”You shattered his collar bone!” Bruce had shouted as they began to settle into the Batcave.

Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes as he ripped his domino mask off. He saved those kids lives that night, he didn’t care if their captor was now knocked out in a prison hospital bed. “He’s a child trafficking-pimp. I didn’t think I had to prop up some pillows before taking him out. He was going to shoot me.”

Halley watched the pair, Bruce moving to almost get in his face. Halley looked at her feet, giving them a moment as she excused herself to get changed out of her costume. As she walked to the changing area the Batcave had, she overheard Bruce’s strict voice, “We needed him. Not all the kids were accounted for! He would’ve talked, but you put him into shock.”

Halley played back the conversation, completely not focusing on the words coming out of her teacher’s mouth. She’d remembered Jason’s discouraged face he wore all morning and couldn’t help but feel bad. As Alfred tried talking to Bruce about last night’s disaster, Halley had tried talking to Jason as they walked the halls into their first class but he just shrugged her off and said he was fine. She hadn’t seen him since, hoping that he hadn’t skipped and get himself into more trouble with Bruce.

Slamming her textbook close as she heard the bell ring, she began shoving it into her backpack. She was starving and wanted to get to the cafeteria as soon as possible to try and beat the lines. Her pathway out of the room was blocked immediately though and she groaned, looking up to glare at who prevented her from exiting the classroom. Inwardly groaning again and mentally rolling her eyes, she tried plastering a fake smile on her face, but she was too tired to try that hard.

In front of her stood Sam Bennet, the girl she had shadowed when she first started at Gotham Academy. The black haired girl smiled at her widely, holding her phone up for Halley to see. The vigilante looked at the screen, unsure what she was looking at. It was some Facebook event page. Sam proceeded to excitedly point to the screen, opening her mouth to talk, “I tried inviting you to this but I couldn’t because we aren’t Facebook friends.”

Halley bite the inside of her cheek as the girl spoke. She tried walking again, and the girl followed. Ever since she saw Dick dropping off and picking up her and Jason from school a few weeks back, Sam had been practically begging without verbally asking to become friends with Halley. She’d tried with Jason but Jason wasn’t as polite as Halley, and kindly told her to fuck off. The crush she had on Dick was unbearable now, and even someone as polite as Halley had noted her patience was running short with all the pestering.

“I don’t have a Facebook.” Halley muttered, hoping that the girl would finally get the hint. Alas, she pressed on, not skipping a step and keeping up with the brunette.

“What? How do you survive?” Sam gasped appalled. She waved her off after she was done gaping. “Regardless, I wanted to invite you to the party I’m throwing this weekend. My parents are going on a skiing trip and I’ll have the whole house to myself so you know, party!” She laughed obnoxiously, already taping away at her phone again. “I’ll text you the address, you can head over around seven!”

Halley rolled her eyes, as the girl looked at her phone. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, angry that the girl had managed to get her phone number. They’d been paired up for a presentation in their English class last mouth and they had to exchange numbers in order to keep up to date on their progress with the project. She nodded, having no intent on going but didn’t want to give the girl anymore reason to carry on this conversation. Halley sneered at the back of Sam’s head as she walked away, throwing a wave back at her.

Turning down the hall, getting closer to the cafeteria, she nearly screamed when she was pulled backwards and into a classroom. Jerking her arm away as the door closed, her eyes looked enraged as she looked up to face her kidnapper. Her gaze turned into a glare as she saw Jason standing in front of the door, closing it and locking it.

“What the hell, Todd.” She growled along with her stomach; she just wanted food.

Jason smirked at how miffed she was and crossed his arms against his chest, with a roll of his eyes. Taking a step back he reached for his backpack he left on the empty teacher’s desk. Unzipping it without a word he pulled out two brown bags, the familiar logo softening Halley’s face while bringing a smug smile to Jason’s.

“Caroline’s?” She gasped, taking the bag he outreached for her. Opening it she found herself a burger and order of onion rings from what had become her favorite diner in Gotham City. Dick often brought her and Jason there whenever he was in town. Popping an onion ring in her mouth she nearly moaned at the greasy treat before narrowing her eyes back at Jason. “Don’t tell me you skipped to go get this?”

Jason merely reached into his own bag and pulled out his own meal, leaning against the desk with a shrug. Halley gave him a disappointed look before letting her backpack fall to the floor. She watch him as he took a giant bite out of his burger, signally that they were apparently eating in the abandoned classroom. He was probably hiding from the principal and didn’t want to get caught with the food. Letting out a sigh, she moved to take a seat at one of the desks, too hungry to argue with him about it.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, stuffing their faces with the unhealthy foods, trying not to think of the look of disappointment Alfred would be giving them if he saw what they were eating. It wasn’t until she was halfway done with her burger did she look up at Jason again. He sat on top of the desk, clearly still upset about last night as he barely ate his food. She gulped down the last few bites that were in her mouth and lowered the burger.

“Are you okay?” She sighed, breaking the silence.

Jason nodded, even though they both knew he was lying. He was still extremely hurt by Bruce benching him yet again. It was like Bruce was regretting letting him be Robin at this point by the amounts of times he took him off the field. How did he expect Jason to learn anything and get better if he was constantly stuck in his room and not out by his side like Robin should be?

It wasn’t even just that. Jason genuinely believed he wasn’t doing anything wrong. These were criminals they were dealing with. Murders, rapists-, psychopaths. Why should they go easy on them? They didn’t deserve to be let off easy, especially the low-lives they dealt with last night. They were dealing innocent kids and they were lucky that only one of them got off with a shattered collar bone.

“They were scum.” Jason hissed, putting the burger in his bag, not hungry anymore as he thought back to the terrified faces of those kids.

“I agree with you.” Halley nodded, doing the same. She pushed the bag out of her way, letting her arms rest on the desk. “They deserve a lot more than what they got.” She agreed, but once she saw Jason’s eyes already getting fired up she trailed back a bit. “But, Bruce is right. We’re no better than them if we start killing every person we fight. Take it from me, I know what it’s like to kill someone, it’s not the greatest feeling in the world.”

Jason bit his lip, trying to think before he spoke with her. He’d been surprised with how much they actually got along since she came back from to the manor. Once she got comfortable and opened up more, Jason couldn’t help but look up to the girl and respect her. She was amazing on the field. Batman was still Batman, but he’d never seen someone fight quite like she did. Her movements were swift, almost fluid, seeing as she didn’t have a lot of muscle mass compared to someone like himself or Bruce, or even Dick; she had to think of other ways to take down stronger advisories. It was like time almost slowed down with how fast she could knock someone off their feet as she could hyper-analyze their movements and match them in a split second. She knew just how to take someone down with one look, and always knew how to react when the situation was growing sour.

But even with all of that he couldn’t help but feel some sort of animosity towards her. She clearly out shined him when it came to a lot of things. Batman never had to chastise her for not following orders or for going out of line. Once Bruce taught her his ways, she was the star student, which only pointed out Jason’s flaws more and more with each patrol. He couldn’t help but think she’d make a better Robin than he ever could and that thought hurt. Being Robin was all he had and now he just had to sit back and watch as Bruce turned to her over him more and more. Jason knew it wasn’t the girl’s fault but he was who he was, and being bitter about it was a natural given.

“I’m not talking about killing anyone, I’m talking about why the fuck am I going to go easy on someone who sells kids like they’re sex dolls?” Jason spat, flaring his arms out. He tensed, seeing Halley cringe at his bluntness, her face looking flustered. He let out a long breathe, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, it just really ticks me off, you know? This city is a shit show and I just don’t see us truly helping.” He paused, looking at her softly. She nodded, pushing him to keep going. Letting out another sigh, he did. “It’s just a constant cycle, we catch the bad guys, they get put away; then they either make bail or get busted out and then it just repeats, over and over-, what good are we really doing?”

Halley frowned, agreeing with him completely but still felt conflicted. She also agreed with Bruce; they weren’t killers and who would they be if they started to be? They were supposed to be better than them, they were supposed to give Gotham something good to believe in. But Jason was right, their system was flawed. She noticed that within her first few nights patrolling the streets as a string of murders haunted the East End. They caught him of course but he only lasted a few weeks in Arkham before escaping. Their culprit had been Victor Zsasz, and his methods of killing had been a little more horrifying than Halley would care to admit. In her many years of being paid to kill people she’d never seen anything quite like the mess they walked in.

Frowning deeper, seeing Jason now staring out the window blankly, she made a decision. She’d talk to Bruce tonight about her concerns and she’d stick up for Jason’s actions last night; it’s not like anyone else did.

#Jason Todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x oc #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #dick grayson #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x sister!reader #Dick Grayson x batsis #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman fanfiction #batman #BatFam #batbros #Batsis

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meterokinesis · 4 years

Text

Caged Birds Still Sing

Read it on AO3

Prompt: explosion, kidnapping, tearful smile

Summary: Tim's been kidnapped before. He doesn't know if he's getting out this time.

It had been three days since Tim had been kidnapped by the League of Assassins. This time was significantly less nice than the last, and then he’d been missing an organ.

He was in the same lavish rooms, with their silk sheets and gilded mirrors, but the lock on the door had been changed. Where Tim had once been allowed to come and go, he was now stuck here. The door locked from the outside, and the only other point of escape was the large balcony, where iron bars arched overhead. He was a Red Robin in a golden cage.

Meals came at regular times. A crossword puzzle came with his breakfast, and on his second day a copy of War and Peace came with lunch. He’d been stripped of all his trackers and gadgets when he got here, which had been replaced with the silks of the League.

Tim was well acquainted with kidnapping. Having been the only heir to the Drake fortune, he had been kidnapped twice as a child, once when he was three and once when he was eight. He didn’t remember much, other than the shrieks of police sirens when he’d finally been found. Once he started as Robin, the kidnappings began in earnest. He was never gone for longer than a night or two, and Bruce always saved him. He was Batman, that was what he did.

So Tim bided his time, sipping ginger tea and doing crossword puzzles and reading Tolstoy. Soon, Bruce would come.

On the fourth day, Tim received his first visitor. He was on the balcony, taking his breakfast under the bright desert sun. He looked up to see Ra’s al Ghul, the reflection of his jewelry practically blinding against the shadowy backdrop of Tim’s chambers. Tim took another bite of toast.

“Hello, Detective,” he drawled as Tim squinted up at him.

“Oh, hello,” Tim said quietly. “Have you made up your mind on whether or not you’re killing me yet?” Ra’s didn’t laugh, but Tim didn’t expect him to. He wasn’t known for his sense of humor.

“See, there’s only so many reasons you’d keep me here,” Tim continued. “You don’t need intel, because you already know everything about us. You don’t need money, because you’re richer than God. I’m either here because you want to trade me for something, you need me to code, or you still want that heir.”

A venomous smile spread on Ra’s face. “Clever boy.” The words stilled Tim, his toast abandoned on his plate. “Now, follow me.”

Ra’s swept out of the room and Tim followed, keeping sure to hold his head high. His mother would be proud. Even being led to his doom, he wouldn’t let the facade fall. As they walked through the Cradle, Tim refused to meet the eyes of the assassins that milled about. He could feel their gazes tear at him, but he let the wounds pile up.

Ra’s study was incredibly simple, but nice all the same. It looked like an older version of every board member’s home office. Tim despised it.

Ra’s gestured for him to sit in one of the stiff chairs, and Tim complied. The head assassin remained standing, his fingertips brushing over the manuscripts that lined the walls.

“I feel as if we know each other well enough by now, Detective. You spent quite a bit of time with us before you decided to defect. You know that I do not play, I win.” Tim stared ahead, trying his best to keep his face blank.

“So, here is what you will do. And you will do it, Detective. You will notify Batman that you are turning in your cape to work for me. You will tell him not to search for you.”

Tim cleared his throat. “And if I don’t?”

Ra’s smirked, as if he expected the question. “Then I will instruct the assassins following your civilian friends to put bullets in their skulls. I don’t believe Mr. Fox will appreciate losing two of his daughters in one day. I know Commissioner Gordon wouldn’t be a fan. Nor Ms. Ives.”

Tim nodded shallowly. “So it’s them or me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Why exactly do you want me so badly? Why not Damian or Bruce?”

Ra’s laughed darkly. “Because your spirit will be so much more fun to break.”

___________

That night, when he was safely back in his beautiful cage, Tim began his letter.

Dear Bruce (and Dick and Jason and Babs and Cass and Damian and Steph),

Since my return to Gotham, something has been missing in my life. I’ve decided to come back to the League of Assassins in an attempt to solve that emptiness. This is of my own volition. Do not come looking for me, I do not want to be found. I love you all.

Always yours,

Tim

He fell asleep watching the moon shine through iron bars, wondering if this is how every criminal he ever put away felt.

___________

It took two days for Ra’s to start giving Tim tasks around the Cradle. Small ones, mostly filing. Some putting pieces together. It felt as if even with all of Ra’s power over life and death, he didn’t know much about order. Tim slogged through the work, waiting for time to tick down. He fixed small loopholes and backdoors and monitored agents in the field. It was easy work, at least when Tim forgot about the trained killer hovering just outside his door.

At night, he scratched out notes on the pages of Tolstoy. Short snippets, like “I’m sorry” and “Thank you” and “I always loved you.” They’d never see the light of day, but they made him feel better.

During his free time, he fixed the computer wiring and did odd electrical tasks around the Cradle. It was as if no one there knew how to use a soldering iron. As much as the menial tasks frustrated him, they kept his hands busy and kept Ra’s off his back.

___________

Rescue came two weeks after Tim Drake was kidnapped. He was in the main hall when the alarms of the breach sounded. Assassins streamed around him, all headed to their respectful stations. Tim headed to the control room.

The control room was small and filled with screens. A skylight gave the tiniest bit of natural light twenty feet above. Tim busied himself with the controls, monitoring the cameras and putting the last minute details on his plan.

Rapping came from the skylight, and Tim looked up to see Steph waving at him. He hesitated for half a moment, then nodded. She shattered the glass and rappelled down, landing with a quiet thud.

“Tim, here,” she whispered and pressed a comms unit into his hand. He nodded and placed it in his ear.

“I need all of you to listen to me. You need to leave,” he began, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“We’re not leaving you-” Dick butted in, but Tim cut him off.

“You have to. If you don’t, civilians die. People we love die. I-I can’t let that happen.” Stephanie placed a hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off. “I have a plan, but I can’t pull it off if you’re here.”

“We’ll let you take point on this, Red Robin.” Bruce’s low voice calmed the nerves racing through Tim’s veins. If Batman said it would be okay, it would be okay.

“You have three minutes to evacuate,” Tim finished, then slipped the comm unit out of his ear.

“Tim…” Stephanie whispered, reaching out for him. This time, he let her hold his hand, running his thumb over the seams of her gloves.

“Hey Stephie,” he murmured, trying his best to muster a smile. “You have to go, okay? You have to be a hero. For me.” She shook her head, opened her mouth to say something, but he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Go,” he urged, and she nodded. With one last squeeze of her hand, she was grappling back through the skylight. He watched as she disappeared, and tried not to let his heart break too much.

He readied the plan, fingers flying faster than he could remember ever doing before. Hands trembling, he placed the comms unit back in his ear just as it crackled to life.

“We’re all out, Red Robin. We’re a kilometer away, in one of the nearby caves. What’s your ETA?”

Tim smiled shakily. “I’m afraid I won’t be joining you. The Cradle’s undergoing self-destruction. I set up the protocol while Ra’s thought I was doing busy work.”

“Tim, you can’t be serious.” For the first time in years, Tim thought he heard fear in Bruce’s voice. “We can still get you out.”

“Someone needs to make sure it goes through with no interference. If Ra’s wants me so bad, he can have me.” Tim suddenly became aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Thank you for saving me. Thank you for loving me. Now it’s time to let me save you.”

Despite the layered protests in his ear, Tim pressed the figurative big red button. As tears stained his face, he smiled. At least he would go out saving people. That’s all he had ever wanted to do.

The numbers ticked down on the screen. 8… 7… 6…

“I love you,” Tim rasped.

3… 2… 1…

The world went white, and then there was nothing.

#whumptober 2020 #my writing #tim drake #kidnapping tw #explosion tw #ra's al ghul #bruce wayne #dick grayson #stephanie brown #batman #nightwing #batgirl #red robin

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schweeeppess · 5 years

Text

Jason was the one who discovered Dick was missing, and damn him Dick just threw all of Jason’s careful planning out the fucking window.

He hadn’t figured it out because Dick had missed a meet up, or because Dick wasn’t answering any imaginary calls, or because he was in Blüdhaven and hadn’t seen Nightwing around.

Nah, he’d figured it out because—for whatever reason Jason couldn’t even begin to fathom—he’d gotten an e-mail from the Iceberg Lounge, inviting the Red Hood as a guest of honor.

An e-mail.

It was ridiculous the amount of time he’d sat there, staring at the screen and debating on showing up or not. He wasn’t one to make decisions lightly, and there was a lot to consider in the invite. If Jason showed up, he’d be intermingling with the heart of Gotham’s criminal dealings; he’d have quite the chance at assessing high-level threats and the ones there wasn’t much to worry about.

On the other hand, was going really worth it? The Iceberg Lounge was a high-class establishment. Jason hated dressing like he had people to impress, and he would definitely need to impress the crowd that hung around the Lounge.

He’d decided there were several ways to impress people, and as a result was sitting at the bar of the Lounge in his uniform, helmet resting in his lap and domino ever-present to conceal his identity. Jason was pointedly ignoring the stares he could feel on his back and the whispers of his name he kept hearing, very patiently waiting for Oswald to show up and explain just what the fuck he was doing that warranted an invitation to Red Hood.

Being drunk wasn’t ideal, so Jason didn’t touch the glass he’d been handed five minutes into his wait, instead cataloguing criminals he could identify as targets and possible competition, picking out the worst of the riff raff and the easy ones to crush.

Eighteen minutes into the wait, Jason stood up and picked his way around the Lounge, a few onlookers stepping aside when they noticed his approach, and others sneering or turning their noses up a little at him. Jason spoke to persons of interest and people he was already planning on erasing from the world, warning both parties subtly and being a little sterner with the weak ones. He wanted to avoid spending resources on such petty and unimportant matters, so fear was his solution.

By the time a built guy in a tuxedo Jason had labeled a guard-slash-escort approached him with a, “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Hood,” Jason had half the guys he’d spoken to pissing their pants, and was finished with that step in his plans.

For him not to laugh in the guy’s face took an incredible amount of willpower, so Jason was very proud of himself for not commenting as he threw a peace sign over his shoulder and walked with Mr. Shades Indoors to Look Cool.

Mr. Shady for short.

“I’m a busy man,” Jason said, once they were in a hidden elevator, arms crossed as he stared up at the lights in boredom. He wasn’t really lying, as in, at all. These days Jason had quite a bit on his plate. “Cobblepot better have something worth my time.”

Mr. Shady nodded once. “We understand M—”

“Call me ‘Mister Hood’ one more time and you’ll find your kneecaps missing.” The kids of the Alley called him Mister Hood, and only they could. He needed to remember to get them to call him Red or something the next time he saw them.

Mr. Shady swallowed nervously, and Jason cracked a smirk as he lifted the helmet over his head and put it on.

Mr. Shady continued. “We understand, sir, and rest assured; what Mr. Cobblepot has to offer will definitely interest you.”

Jason turned his head to face Mr. Shady and raised a brow, which Shady couldn’t see, and drawled, “An’, if I may ask, just how do you know what I would be interested in?”

He didn’t get a response as the elevator doors parted and Shady gestured him forward.

Rolling his eyes, Jason walked out of the elevator and again let himself be led by Shady, who was wiping his palms on his pants. He didn’t have to memorize the path they were taking since it was just a straight line to a door and therefore didn’t even consider bothering to.

Ah, simplicity.

Shady unlocked the door with a keycard—really, Oswald? Keycards?—and held it open for Jason, who growled in irritation. He could open a goddamn door for himself, thanks.

Regardless of his irritation, he stalked through the doorway and entered a large room. It reminded Jason of a prison courtyard, with seats all suspended above and around a cage in the center of the room, many of the seats already occupied by familiar faces that Jason did not like seeing.

Shady led him to his seat—front-row and with a very good view of the cage—and was quick to leave.

Jason scowled at he sat down, propping his feet up on the railing in front of him and crossing his arms. He firmly ignored the fact that Harvey Dent was in the seat to his right, and that Roman fucking Sionis was to Dent’s right.

Only one person was between Jason and the man he’d been harassing. The incredibly powerful, rich, and no-nonsense man that Jason had shoved nonsense and frustration upon.

Roman seemed busy talking on his phone—business call, if the audio receptors in Jason’s helmet were working correctly—so he hadn’t noticed Jason’s presence (he hoped), and Jason thus forced himself to catalogue the rest of Penguins “esteemed” guests.

Mario and Alberto Falcone, Carmine’s sons if Jason’s intel was on the money (which it was), were sitting with Tony Zucco and Sal Maroni, a seating arrangement Jason was sure was intentional. The Maroni family and the Falcones were notorious rivals.

Hopefully they’d make the evening a little more interesting than it was going to otherwise be.

Aside from them, Two-Face, Roman, and who would appear to be fucking Jonathan Crane, there were no other big names Jason could see, and honestly that Scarecrow had shown up meant that whatever Oswald had was actually worth showing up.

Then he’d seen Edward “Eddie” Skeevers, and things got even more interesting.

Oswald’s little auction was now much more serious, and much more intriguing, and Jason wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be concerned or excited. The inner Robin in him said concerned, but it also said a general ‘what the fuck are you even doing here, you should be kicking their asses and carting them off to Blackgate’, so Jason wasn’t sure it had much credibility. The inner Lazarus in him said excited, but it also said to rip everyone’s throats out and display their corpses like trophies, so it also had no high ground.

Jason was met with a conundrum and warring emotions.

“How much longer is Oswald going to keep us waiting,” Dent growled, and Jason hoped he’d been talking to himself because he didn’t react at all.

I feel you, Harv, Jason thought to himself. He was a patient guy—had done stakeouts that lasted at least eight hours without moving a muscle in any and probably any weather one could imagine—but this was a senseless waste of time. Jason was extremely busy nowadays, and even if Cobblepot hadn’t cared about his agenda he would have taken Eddie Skeevers’, Black Mask’s, Two-Face’s, and Scarecrow’s into consideration.

So if he was trying to get himself killed, he was doing a spectacular job of it.

And Jason would know.

Harvey glowered at the fenced in cage and leaned forward, muttering, “I give ‘em three minutes, then I’m leaving.”

Then plotting murder, Jason’d bet.

Luckily enough, Penguin chose then to make his appearance on the stand beside the cage, waving his cane at some guards who disappeared behind double doors hidden in the walls around the circular area around the cage, then looking up at his invited guests and smiling hideously.

God, that guy was ugly.

“Cobblepot,” Eddie said, the first to speak up. “This had better be worth my time.”

“Yeah!” Harvey yelled, and Jason mentally spat curses at his volume. No need to fucking yell, jackass. “I’ve been sittin’ here for too long for this to be somethin’ dumb.” Thank you for lowering your voice.

Roman hung up on his call, and Jason felt his shoulders stiffen, but he didn’t dare move. He kept his gaze on Cobblepot.

Penguin raised his hands placatingly, and said in that disgusting voice of his, “Calm, friends. Believe me when I say that what I have to offer is more than worth your wait.”

“I dunno, Ozzy,” Jason drawled, deciding to risk Black Mask making this whole deal hell and lowering his legs so that he could lean his forearms on his knees. “I’m a picky guy. You’re lucky I even showed up to this freak show.”

Oswald clearly didn’t appreciate Jason’s mouth, but Jason didn’t care. He was who he was, supervillains and mobsters be damned, and he wasn’t gonna change anytime soon. They could kiss his zombie ass.

“I suppose I am,” Cobblepot flatly retorted. “At any rate, the bidding starts at fifty.”

“What the fuck could you possibly have gotten your paws on worth fifty thousand dollars.” Ah Roman, speaking the words on everyone’s mind before they could.

Bastard.

The two guards returned dragging someone between them, then tossed the person in the cage and on the solid concrete ground carelessly, closing and locking the door behind them as they took up their posts beside it.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Jason breathed, immediately on his feet, hands on the railing as he leaned forward to make sure he was actually seeing who he thought he was seeing. “Fucking, Nightwing?”

And it was him. The dumbass, too fucking happy, always upright on his feet, irritating piece of shit older brother of Jason’s. He was just lying there, not obviously injured but not stirring at the same time.

Concern and fear reared its traitorous head and sucker-punched Jason in the gut. He felt like he was gonna hurl.

Oswald smiled that disgusting smile of his again.

“The bidding starts at fifty.”

“A hundred,” Jason barked, all his careful planning with his money out the fucking window. Fucking fuck, Dick, you just had to let yourself get caught.

The Falcones stood at the same time, and Alberto bid, “A hundred fifty!”

Fuck.

“Two hundred!” And oh-ho, Harvey seemed like he felt compensated.

Jason couldn’t afford to keep bidding, he really, really fucking couldn’t, but God damn Richard John fucking Grayson.

“Two seventy,” he called, forcing his tone lackadaisical and his body language indifferent as he eased back into his seat, crossed his arms, and kicked his feet back up. This situation was more than stressful, and Jason hated Dick Grayson with everything in him, tapping his finger on his bicep to try and relieve some of his anxiety.

“Three hundred,” Roman finally tossed out.

Jason swore a blue streak under his breath.

He tried, “Three eighty,” but was quickly overbid by the Maroni representatives with four hundred.

The price was far too high for Jason to be able to continue bidding. There was nothing he could do but watch as his brother was auctioned off like an animal, nothing he could do but sit and observe.

For the first time since his return from the grave, Jason felt completely and utterly helpless.

And he hated Dick for it.

Jason stayed throughout the duration of the auction, long enough for Eddie to out bid everyone with a price of seven hundred thousand dollars. Nobody was willing to pay that kind of cash but him. Jason couldn’t afford to pay that kind of cash. He just didn’t have enough money to spare—he didn’t have any fucking money to spare.

Oswald jutted his cane at Skeevers and said, “Sold, to the trafficker with deep pockets!”

Everyone gradually trickled out, but Jason was the first to leave, already in the elevator by the time Cobblepot had finished his sentence.

When the doors slid shut and Jason was safely out of view, he slammed his fist into the metal wall, denting it a little, stinging pain racing up his arm as a result of his idiocy. He ignored it and pressed his hands to his face and screamed in frustration.

Not only had Jason just lost Nightwing, he’d lost him to a professional trafficker, importer, and exporter. International, if Jason had his facts memorized correctly.

He couldn’t try to steal Dick away from Eddie, because the guy was a pro. He knew what he was doing. Jason couldn’t steal Dick away from Penguin, because Jason was not prepared at all for a fight of that magnitude, and it would take him at least a full day to get the intel he’d need to take Cobblepot on if he wanted to win.

Dick could be anywhere in the world in under ninety-six hours.

Jason had under four motherfucking days to figure out who Eddie was going to sell him to, what he was going to be transported on, when he would be leaving, and where he was going to go.

The estimated ninety-six hours would start in about three, so Jason had three hours to prepare for all the information gathering he was going to be running himself ragged for over the next forty-eight. That gave him a total of ninety-nine hours to work with.

As he walked out of the Lounge, his brain was flying to scrape together some sort of plan, and Jason mourned the loss of sleep for the foreseeable future.

“Fucking hell, Dick,” Jason muttered, swinging a leg over his motorcycle and starting it before tearing through traffic.

He had a plan he needed to formulate and a dumbass brother to get back.

---

@a-dreamed-dreamer won a fic, and hoo boy! this one’s gonna be multi-chap y’all, and PLOT TWIST It’s not Jason and Dick centric. *cackles*

hope you enjoyed :D

#my writing #my work #my fanfiction #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #part one of a multichapter fic #oh wait #i meant chapter one #*cries* im so goddamned tired #*sobs quietly*#why am I like this #*I can't think of tags*#*I can't think of things period*#***I broke my brain***

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spartanbunjase · 4 years

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Yesterday was Evil Author Day but I wasn’t in any state to participate. So, have some of my WIP today!! They are all Jason Todd centric and I can tell you now that only one of these is guaranteed to be completed as it’s a christmas gift for my little sister (Belfire on A03).

Cantains: domestic violence, soulmates, bad parenting, different pairings, angst, fluff, good parenting, drug addiciton and recovery, LGBT+ couples, straight couples, trans characters, torture, good siblings, happy, character death (only mentioned).

1: As Catherine lay on the floor in a small pool of her own blood she could only feel utterly helpless watching Willis’ belt land on her son again and again. She wanted to get to him, to curl protectively around Jason and keep him safe, but she was too injured and knew she could end up dead if she intervened. Being dead would just put Jason at Willis’ mercy more often. The man wasn’t the same as the one she’d fallen in love with during her time at Gotham Academy. He’d been funny, carefree, adventurous, and handsome. Now, consumed by alcohol and drugs, he was a monster. He ran with criminals and regularly used Catherine to pay off his debts. Their current argument had resulted from her coming home and finding Willis about to use Jason’s body as payment. It was something he’d never done before, she knew from the utter terror radiating off her son as she’d stepped into the room. It was something she refused to let Willis ever put her son through. To Catherine, he’d thrown away any claim to their sweet six year old boy the second he laid a hand on him when the boy was four. Eventually Willis grew tired and stormed out the flat, probably to apologise to the dealer and convince them to return once Catherine was out of the flat. She wasn’t going to give him that chance. She was done letting him hurt her or her son. Jason was her world, he was the reason she’d cleaned up her drug habit and gotten a job as a bus boy at their local diner. Dragging herself up so she was standing, Catherine carefully made her way over to her son. He was bleeding from the welts and wounds across his back while she could already see a black eye forming. Catherine bent down slowly and gave Jason’s shoulder a gentle shake. He gave a pained whimper but didn’t move until he could clearly see it was Catherine and not Willis. “Come on baby, we’re getting out of here.” Catherine’s heart broke further as she saw the resigned look on her son. She’d promised him they’d leave so often but they’d gone back, he was clearly unwilling to believe her any more now than all the times before. She helped him onto his feet and led him to the door. It was only once they were out on the street that he spoke, “where we going Mama?” Catherine hadn’t thought that far ahead but as she watched Sparky their dog helping support some of Jason’s weight it hit her like a bolt of lightning. “We’re going to your grandparents. They’ve never actually gotten to meet you and they can keep us safe.” She saw Jason’s hand hold tighter to Sparky’s fur as he kept his gaze on the pavement. “Don’t worry baby, they’ll take Sparky in too.” The odd trio eventually arrived at Doc Thompkins clinic. Catherine knew she couldn’t walk Jason all the way across the city to the affluent neighbourhoods and Leslie had been trying to convince her to leave Willis for years. She had no doubt that the woman would help her and her family escape him. Catherine pushed open the door and ushered her son and their dog through to the waiting room. A nurse looked like she was about to refuse the dog until she caught sight of Jason and Catherine. The kind woman immediately moved the trio to a clinic room and went to get Leslie. “Jason, Catherine, what can I do for you today?” The Todd family had known Leslie since his birth. Her free clinic had helped them through when they’d been unable to treat Jason during a multitude of childhood injuries and illnesses. More recent years had led to the clinic treating the results of Willis’ temper and Leslie trying to help the woman and young boy escape. Catherine let her eyes travel over the room, constantly vigilant and fearful of Willis finding them. Finally sure they were safe she let her gaze lock onto Leslie’s. She’d never met the woman’s eye before, always too afraid of what she’d see reflected back at her. “We need help. My parents live in Bristol and I’m hoping they’ll take us in. They never liked Willis so hopefully they’ll let me back home now they see I’m done with him for good. At the very least, I hope they take Jay.” She was met with a calm patience that was pure Leslie once the woman got what she wanted from a situation; and in this case she had. “Auntie L, Mama said I’m going to meet my abuelos but I’m scared.” He had moved slightly closer to Leslie as Catherine had spoken and gave her sleeve a gentle tug. “They won’t be like Willis will they?” His voice was so quiet that Leslie knew Catherine would have missed the question due to the distance between her and her son. She felt a sudden urge to wrap the small, undernourished boy up in her arms and never let harm come to him again.

****

2: There isn’t much Jason can remember from his time as Robin. He can remember being friends with a handful of the younger heroes; most of them have since kept their distance. Returning from thirteen months of torture (and being declared dead) with different morals than your mentor and arguing with them in the Halls of Justice will strain some friendships…even if it has been over a decade since he was found in the abandoned wing of Arkham by the kid who’d replaced him. A few however had stuck around, stayed by his side, and aided his journey through the turbulent recovery of PTSD. Billy Batson had been overjoyed to have his friend back, to have back the one person who understood the Gotham foster care system and how fucking backwards it all is. He’d been one of the first people to visit the manor on hearing of Jason’s rescue; cheating his way past Bruce and Alfred with his magic just to see his friend. He’d remained; understanding the argument for what it was, a damaged boy begging his father to save him from his nightmares. During those early months Jason hadn’t remembered him, but Billy never held it against him. He used it as a chance to rebuild, to start fresh. They’d both changed in those months and he understood what violence could do to even the best of people; and to Billy, Jason had always been one of the best. His brother, Dick, fell into that selection of memories for Jason where he knew they’d had good times together but only the feelings remained. Only the lingering scent of happiness, childish wonder, and excitement remained. The memories themselves had been burned, beaten, starved, and just generally tortured away. The man was seen as the perfect older brother by the other members of the caped community (and even by Gotham’s press). For Jason, in the past decade, he’d been anything but. He’d only ever tried to push the family’s moral standpoint onto a person who quickly (and easily) reverted into that same terrified, scarred boy they found under the asylum just from mentions of his captor. Dick focused on keeping the other new siblings safe and happy. If that meant ignoring the second oldest of the Wayne children; well then, all the better as far as he was concerned. The oldest of the Wayne children understood, and had even studied, PTSD. That meant shit all when it came to applying it in practice. When it came to applying all he’d learnt for his roles as Robin and Nightwing he fell short of the legacy he created. Within a year of Jason’s release from Joker, Dick had certainly lived up to his name. The relationship between the two was frostier than any suit Victor Fries required. For the teenager the family got back, got into the safety of his old room, it was as it had been when he’d first been given Robin. As he didn’t have the visual memories to go with the positive feelings he’d attached to his older brother during those first couple of week it became increasingly easy for Dick to trigger a panic attack, or as was more common between the two, an all-out violent attack. Jason’s dreams, even during his time under the old asylum, occasionally give him flashes of green light, of shapes seemingly made out of thin air glowing in neon green. He’s been told that Kyle Rayner used to be a friend. Two young heroes finding themselves in roles with previous occupants helping them to forge a friendship. He’d kept his distance when he’d heard his friend was back. He’d pushed him further away once he saw the lack of recognition in those bright blue eyes. In the end he went so far as to cut contact with the teen completely once he saw the drastic changes during the nearly explosive argument with Batman. For where one had risen up to become an Honour Guard within the Corps, the other had fallen to a murdering anti-hero. One person however, had never slipped his memories. One person had always managed to keep an steel grip on his limbic system. While the Joker had tried desperately, along with help from the other Arkham inmates, to wipe every ounce of hope from Jason he failed to realise one thing. He failed to realise just how far, just how deeply, hope ran for the second Robin. The one person who the clown never managed to taint or use against him, was the one person that only a few of the hero community knew he knew. When the lights in his cell would go out, Jason would dream of flowing blonde hair. When Harley would try to convince him that she and the clown were all he had left, Jason would let his heart fill with a snorting laugh never letting the sound past his lips. When each of Batman’s main enemies took turns on the six month anniversary, Jason drew from the strength sun-warmed hands that used to clasp his with while running through the fareground. When Joker finally showed Jason the photos to prove he’d been replaced, the teen filled his mind with blues and reds of the one person who’d never replace him. Who, as it turns out, was the only person who didn’t replace him. With everything the Joker did, with everything the Joker had left him to deal with upon his release, it was Kara Zor-El who gave everything and reminded him that his faith in her was justified. For months the Wayne family had struggled. They’d struggled to fit their second child back into the family. There was the unconscious violence that accompanied trying to wake him from his night terrors. Often resulting in wounds ranging from a simple punch to a stab. The deep-seated fear and hatred of most of Gotham’s Rogues made them tiptoe around him when talking about the family business. They refused to ask, to understand, just why he resented the middle son of the Wayne house but could tolerate Duke, Cassandra, and Damian. In the end, the only solution to be found actually found them. Kara had heard Jason’s night terror start one evening not long after returning from a space mission with the Titans and hearing the news of the second Robin being found. Relief had flooded through her to her very soul. For ten months she’d searched, scanned all of Gotham multiple times with her x-ray vision and listening for any sign of him. Unfortunately there was just too much lead in the city. Too much interference for her to find him before being summoned for a three month off-world mission. She’d never forgotten the sound of his heartbeat though; of the changes it would make when he was happy, nervous, or just itching for a good fight. That first night back on Earth; when she heard the sudden changes, the increase in pace, she tuned into the almost silent whimpers he was letting out. Kara flew the fastest she ever had, abandoning the mission de-brief she’d been ordered to, and tore through the Manor like a Bat out of Hell (or an Alien invading). The alarms had been blaring. Batman and the kids were pulled away from patrol, all racing home with worry clogging their chests for the elderly butler and damaged boy left alone. Each of them had expected great hordes of people intent on harming the two members of the Wayne family who were seen as the weakest. Instead they returned home to a grandfather silencing them all and making them watch the scene he had been taking in peacefully prior to their outlandish entrance. Kara had made it up to Jason’s room just as he’d started to scream and thrash about. His limbs were still in casts, much of his body still in bandages or dressings of some form as he’d only been free a handful of days. The shock of black hair and familiar heartbeat moved her faster still. Within the blink of an eye one scared but joyous teen had pulled the other distressed teen into her arms. Almost as soon as her overly warm hands came into contact with his sweat-damp skin, Jason’s eyes flew open. He cut off a scream as blazing ocean blue eyes met overjoyed sky blue. Sun golden blonde hair framing the face like a halo. The hope. The strength. The only love that he’d managed to hold onto for thirteen months was finally back in his reach and so he allowed his body to sink into the warm embrace. It was the first night that the family discovered just how close the two sixteen year olds really were. Dick had long suspected that they were friends. Bruce had always avoided commenting, refusing to admit that both of his children were close with Kryptonians (even if one was a clone). As they stood watching they saw how quickly Kara calmed their wayward bird. Her fingers never stopped carding through his hair as her other hand was clasped as tightly as he could manage due to the bulky cast and pain. She was rocking him slightly, quietly singing a Kryptonian nursery rhyme.

****

3: Everyone was born with a mark, a mark that matched in design and placement with the person you were meant to have a deep relationship with. Be that platonic or romantic. Everyone that is except Jason. His mother had always told him it just made him special, that he would form deep relationships with anyone special enough to be in his life. Instead he spent his life forging relationships only to have them ripped away. There was his mother losing her battle with cancer. His best friend getting caught up in one of Mad Hatter’s schemes and never making it out. Then there was the father he’d found one cold night in Crime Alley. Jason thought he’d finally found what his mother meant all those years ago. He now had a grandfather, who he spent countless hours cooking and debating literature with. He had a father who taught him how to fight beyond that of street fighting but also helped him laugh again. Best of all he now had a brother who would take him skiing and help him prank their adopted father. Alas it wasn’t to last. Each of those relationships was destroyed by the one who wished his soul mark matched Jason’s father. The Joker took Jason away from Bruce, from the family he’d found. A crowbar here. An explosion there. It all came crumbling down in the Magdala Valley. One quick resurrection, a few years training, and one failed attempt at revenge later found Jason finally managing to rebuild those bonds lost to him at fifteen. It was what led to him chasing a behemoth of a man through Gotham trying to save Deula Dent. She was the daughter of the Joker from another Earth and, although she was related to a version of the man who’d killed him, he wasn’t about to let her die. Unfortunately, he wasn’t successful but it did lead to a very interesting set of circumstances for the twenty-two year old. With Donna Troy, a woman he’d once considered a sister, and Kyle Rayner at his side he found himself travelling through the multi-verse. They’d been to countless versions of their own planet. They’d met evil versions of themselves and their mentors. They’d gotten caught in Victorian Gotham. They’d even ended up on multiple Earths where they were the opposite gender to how they presented. It had been a tiring journey. Jason had found himself having a small crush on the Green Lantern accompanying them. Flirty banter was met with fierce resistance. Kyle, for reasons Jason still didn’t understand, seemed convinced that he wanted Donna instead. Now Jason wasn’t picky. He was attracted to a person regardless of their gender, or even if they were human. To Kyle it just meant that Jason was even better placed to scoop Donna out from under him. As the trio, along with their Monitor Bob, landed on Earth-11 it became apparent that they’d ended up on another Earth where the genders were reversed. A fight was clearly happening and so they set off to help in the hopes that Ray Palmer may have been somewhere nearby. Jason’s combat boots pounded through the streets. His breath was coming harsher than usual as an unexpected pain was shooting up his left arm. It had started as soon as they’d breached the atmosphere. The only way he could describe it was as if someone was stabbing him between the radius and ulna over and over again. His arm was held protectively to his chest as nothing he’d done had relieved the pain. He’d twisted his wrist and shoulder around. Simple stretches had turned more and more complex. Nothing was working. A green construct lit up the sky, quickly being followed by the Lantern creating it. Jason’s gaze lingered on the woman in question and the pain subsided slightly. Kicking his body into action his legs pulled him towards the battle faster. “If you’re going to act like children then you’ll be treated as such.” The female Green Lantern said while scooping up some of the Amazon warriors. Jason will deny it to his dying day but that was the moment he felt his heart skip a beat and love start to bloom in his heart.

****

4: When the news of the massacre at Sanctuary broke throughout the hero community Jason felt horrifically guilty because he felt such relief. A few weeks before it all happened Roy had been speaking with Waylon about entering rehab. He’d been intending to go to Sanctuary as it was set up by the Trinity for all those in the community that needed help. However, the archer didn’t want to be in the middle of nowhere or too far away from Jason. The ginger archer had raced into Gotham two months prior to save the stupidly impulsive ass of a crime lord. As soon as he and Jason were back together they had a massive talk about how their relationship parted last time. It soon became clear that Jason’s own insecurities had wiggled their way so far into his brain that he pushed Roy away. Once they’d finished their talk they quickly fell into their old routine. The relationship was moving as if they’d never been apart for over a year. They were able to support each other but Jason was able to see that Roy needed more help than he could provide. As the case with Suzie Sue was drawing to a close they started to talk about Roy’s options. Sanctuary had been top of the list, until Roy realised just where it was located and more importantly how little was located around it. In the end, with the help of Oliver, they were able to get Roy into AtoT Centre in San Diego. When Oliver heard that Roy was struggling again he managed to step up and help. He knew that the level of help Roy would need was clearly above what he could provide if Jason was struggling to help him. With this in mind Oliver offered to foot the bill for any length of stay Roy needed, along with helping Jason rent a flat nearby. The AToT Centre were able to fit Roy into one of their San Diego drug rehab homes that house six patients. He agreed to a ninety day stay so long as Oliver refused to tell him the price. Jason agreed with Roy’s instance as he knew that if Roy found out that it was $65,000 for the initial thirty days and then $2,000 for every thirty after that he would have refused to go to such a highly rated place. They allowed Roy to keep his phone so he could be in contact with both Jason and Oliver, which settled all three men. Roy had been at the centre for fifteen days when the news of Sanctuary broke. He had received a text from Wally telling him that he was okay and had made it out. Unsure of what the text had meant he’d immediately phoned his ex-mentor and (trying again) father figure. The blonde archer had gently told his son how the patients at Sanctuary had been attacked and that the current suspects were Booster Gold and Harley Quinn. He also reassured Roy that Wally had managed to get away fast enough, running straight to his Aunt Iris in Central City.

****

5: There were a few things people could expect to find on the streets of Gotham. Bristol had people who spewed money and corruption all in the same breath. If you wanted to get your rocks off, or buy some, you’d head to the East End. Joker goons could be found roaming around Amusement Mile while a couple of the buildings around the Solomon Wayne courthouse were decorated in two halves both on the inside and the outside. One of the things that you wouldn’t expect to come across is a literal goldmine. Jason learnt all of this while he still had a home near Crime Alley. It’s something that has been drilled into him even more during his six years on the streets. So, it comes as a massive surprise to the fifteen-year-old when he finds The Batmobile parked in the alley. He had three tyres off when two shadows fell over him. Glancing up a jolt of freezing cold fear shot through the underweight teen. He’d slipped into a fighting stance naturally, his tyre iron held tightly in a white knuckled grip. When you grow up in the Narrows you have no choice but to always choose fight over flight. He’s shocked out of his fear by a deep throaty laugh. “The fuck?” Slips out before Jason can clamp his mouth shut. Of all the reactions to someone booting your tyres he’d never heard of someone laughing. “You’re a spunky one aren’t you.” Robin, now Jason’s had a chance to take in the recognisable costume, said with the same level of amusement in his tone as Batman’s laugh. He glanced over at his mentor and Jason took in the silent conversation they had. The Bat crouched in front of the small, dirty street kid. “You want hot food and a warm bed? If so, we know someone who owes us one.” Throwing up an eyebrow, Jason takes a step back. His stomach is desperately empty. His mind is fuzzy. His adrenaline from the theft is waning and he knows he can’t hold the tyre iron up much longer. “Ya wouldn’ wanna help some’n’ like me. I ain’t normal.” His thick accent makes them pause. If you weren’t raised in the area, then there is always a slight difficulty in translation. It’s made a bit more difficult for people to understand Jason as his Narrows accent is also intermingled with a Latinx twist from his Mámá. It was something he’d heard his whole life. Don’t mind Jason, he’s not all there. Don’t worry about the kid, he ain’t normal. Fucker, all I do for you and you can’t act like all the other boys. Jason knew, after hanging around with the same group of lads since he could walk, that most young boys dreamed of being Robin. They talked animatedly about how cool it must be to wear the red, yellow, and green while kicking the shit out of people. They all lusted after Batman and Robin’s sometimes partner Batgirl. None of the other teenage boys Jason grew up with wanted to be Batgirl. None of them dreamed about how empowering it must feel to pull on those four-inch, purple boots and not have them holding you back from doing the same things as Batman and Robin. “Well we’re not normal either.” Robin chuckles. “No normal people dress up like we do and fight crime.” Jason had to admit that the sidekick has a point. In the end his overwhelming need for sustenance crowds out any other nervousness he could be feeling, so he reluctantly agreed. Jason helped them put the wheels back on as best he could with his hands shaking. He could blame the cold. He could blame the hunger. He could blame the two heroes of Gotham helping him more than he was helping them. In actuality, the reason his hands were shaking was the knot of Narrows fuelled anxiety over the chance of them finding out just how abnormal he was. It takes Jason a week to figure out that Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson are Batman and Robin. He spends a few days coming up with a plan to get them both to admit it. Both men are underestimating how sneaky and clever the street kid can be so don’t see everything coming together until it’s at its conclusion. They both try to play it off. Try to pretend that Jason hasn’t guessed it all correctly. Try to pretend that Jason hadn’t caught them in the lie. In the end they tell him everything because Alfred cuffs them both upside the head. The trust both men show Jason in opening up about their pain. The very events that triggered their need for the mission, cements something in him. It solidifies the tentative strands of trust that was between them. The fact Dick was so willing to come to him when he woke up a few nights later with nightmares of falling so he had someone to sit and watch crappy 80’s movies with. The fact Bruce tells him exactly why the Batmobile was parked in Crime Alley that night, the significance of the date. It all goes towards helping Jason realise that maybe these three people are the very people he needs to talk to, to trust in. Even with all that swirling around his mind. Even with all the little ways they’re showing him they want to be his family. The fear engrained in him from years of his father and the other men around the Narrows keeps his mouth shut. He fights through each day, just as he always has; only now the fight is different. Whereas before his fight was for the basics needed to survive. The hunger. The cold. The general desperate need to make it to the next day. Now his fight is different. He has food. Warmth. Safety. He has people who check in on how he’s doing, how he’s feeling or settling in. He has people who care. Now the fight is to keep how he feels about his own body, mind, and soul from spilling over and corrupting one of the first good things this city ever gave him. The dark of night, when Jason knows for sure both Dick and Bruce are out and Alfred is in the cave, is the only time he lets his mind wander into the Fort Knox style vault he keeps his dreams of being more like Batgirl and less like Robin. It’s the only time he lets out the complicated rubber band ball of thoughts and anxieties to try and sift through them all. It’s the only time he willingly thinks about the two people who had started trying to help him untangle all he was feeling.

****

.It had been ten years since Jason returned to Gotham, ten years since Ra’s had dunked his lifeless body into the Lazarus pit to bring Jason screaming and clawing back into existence. In that time things had changed greatly, but not Gotham, Gotham remained the seething hub for all criminality in the country. Jason had long ago given up on ever thinking that Gotham could change, it just seemed to attract the worst of humanity or ever worse, spawn it. Still Jason vowed to continue fighting just on the off chance that Gotham might one day see the light.Jason flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fading light, a singular point of dulling light against the encroaching black of Gotham’s night. The almost permanent blare of police sirens echoed through the streets and up into the skies, only serving to remind Jason just how far they hadn’t come since he pulled on his first pair of green pixie boots. He clambered to his feet, resting his arm on the head of his favourite gargoyle and looked out over the city, wondering where the night would take him. Suddenly his com sparked into life. “Batgirl are you receiving?” Batman was a staple of Gotham now, one of its defining characteristics, even if his mission had failed on every aspect.Still Jason found it difficult to hear Batman speak, knowing that Bruce no longer held the mantle. Batman had fallen to Damian a few years back once Damian had aged into the role, filling the shoes of his father had left empty when he died. There had been a time before Bruce’s death that he and Jason stood apart from each other, separated by their moral compasses, but ultimately in Bruce’s final moments he had made up for all the bad blood between the two of them. Captured once again by the Joker, Jason had found himself in a similar situation to his first death, only this time the Batman arrived early.Bruce had beaten the joker to the ground whilst the bomb counted down, seconds remained when Bruce attached the grapnel line from the Batwing to Jason’s harness point and sent the Batwing soaring off into the sky. Fire and death consumed Bruce and the Joker, the more powerful nature of the bomb vaporising any trace of the hero and villain. When Jason came to in the Batcave he remembered Bruce attaching the cable to his waist and the words he spoke to him. “I’m sorry Jason but I won’t let him take you again. I know we’ve had our troubles, mostly because of my stubbornness, but know this now. I love you.” The family had accepted him back with open arms but Jason struggled to come to terms with his father’s death for quite some time.“I’m receiving Batspawn, I’ll be operational in twenty, see you at RV foxtrot.” Stephanie Brown may not be the first or the strongest Batgirl, but in Jason’s opinion she was the best. They had both come from similar backgrounds and had bonded over their shared life experience, add in to the mix that Jason aged differently that other humans thanks to his dip in the pit and they were roughly the same physical age now so they had unofficially made themselves siblings. Steph’s voice sounded different to Jason, he wasn’t hearing it over his com unit. He craned his neck round and sure enough there she was, stood silently behind him.“Why’d you always have to sneak up on me like that?” Jason mumbled grumpily. “Holy shit someone’s in a bad mood!” Jason had caught her off guard, their relationship a lot more playful that this current interaction. “Ahh fuck, it’s the eighteenth ain’t it?” Steph asked to which Jason simply nodded his head. Bruce’s anniversary always sucked for Jason but for some reason this year, their seventh without Bruce, was hitting Jason harder than before. Steph sidled up behind Jason and wrapped her arms around his chest, he rested his spare arm on top of hers, enjoying the warmth coming from her. “You wanna talk about it?” Steph asked gently as she released her arms and climbed around the other side of the gargoyle.Jason pulled out another cigarette and lit it in rapid succession. “Naa. Don’t even know what to say really.” As Jason exhaled a stream of smoke shot into the night air, the sky now more black than it was red. “Well why don’t you come with us on patrol tonight, we think we’ve got a lead on Pyg.” Jason simply pointed to a rooftop that was several stories lower than their current position, on top of it was the partially strung up body of a failed dollatron and next to it in a pool of his own blood and brain matter was Pyg. “Jason, did you?” Steph looked over at Jason and saw him waving around a sniper rifle that she hadn’t noticed before. “Okay then, well that throws my night wide open. Wanna go get something to eat, ya know, after getting changed?”Jason took a long drag on his cigarette, considering Steph’s idea. “Yeah alright, let’s just wait until Gordon’s boys turn up to collect the bodies.” Jason said flatly. “Cool, I’ll let Bats know we’re offline tonight.” Steph activated her com. “Batgirl to Batman, you receiving?” There was a moments silence before the channel sparked to life again. “Receiving.” Damian replied tersely. “No need to go ahead with the sting tonight, I’ve got eyes on Pyg and I don’t think he’d going to be hurting anyone else ever again.” Steph tried not to giggle but she knew how much Damian hated vague reports.“Goddamn it Batgirl, was this Red Hood again? He’s there with you now isn’t he? Hood what have you done; you know that isn’t how we do things. How many times did father have to tell you!” Jason pulled his helmet fully off and hit the power switch. “Fuck he sounds worse than Bruce did sometimes.” Jason quipped before taking a long drag on his cigarette then flicking it once more into the night. “Hey at least you don’t have to work directly with him, I’m stuck with the little brat!” Steph laughed but Jason knew she was serious. After Bruce’s death Damian had become even more zealot in his quest to become his father and claim his blood right, the cowl.“I’ve told you before, you’d be more than welcome on the Outlaws. Personally, I think Artemis would like it more than I would, she’s crushing on you hard dude.” Steph smiled and laughed, it was good to hear a more upbeat and jovial tone to her brother’s voice. “As tempting as working with my brother and finally getting myself a girlfriend is, I belong in Gotham. Besides, someone’s got to keep Damian in check since Alfred quit; although I don’t blame him.” Steph sighed then snapped into another chain of thought. “Oh Alfred sent me a message the other day, asked me to ask you about Dick?” Jason looked curiously at Steph, throw off by the bizarre question.“Why doesn’t he ask Dick himself, his number hasn’t changed?” Jason asked but Steph gave him that look that only younger sisters can give their older siblings. “You know you’re the only one from the family that he speaks to anymore. He even stopped sending birthday cards to Alfred last year. We’re all worried about him, this self-isolating behaviour can’t be good for him.” Steph now looked worried and Jason supposed he could understand why. Bruce’s death had hit Dick hard too and he’d left America all-together not long after the funeral. He now lived in Europe with Wally and their six adopted kids. He was happy but done with the lifestyle, shutting out all aspects and now, apparently, all the family bar Jason.“He’s okay, spoke to him today for an hour or so. He’s feeling pretty shit like me, but Wally’s got Iris looking after the kids and they’ve gone for a holiday out of the country together.” Steph smiled at hearing Dick was okay but was then distracted by movement on the other rooftop. Gordon, and handful of unis and the CSIs had arrived to cordon off and catalogue the scene. “Come on then.” Steph said to Jason, trying to be as upbeat as possible. “Let’s go eat!”

#Jason Todd #Batman #Batfam #Arkham Knight #Kara Danvers #DC fic #my writing

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slightly-nerdy-rambles · 5 years

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Robstarweek Day 1: City-Sitting (Prompt: Wayne Manor)

Heeere we are, it’s Robstarweek! This is the first year I’ve gotten to participate, and after seeing some of the great writing and art that’s come from previous years I am pumped. These oneshots will all be crossposted to my fanficition.net account under the collective title “Stardust in Her Hair (Robstarweek 2019)” if anyone wants to see them there.

For day one, “Wayne Manor,” I was both intrigued and a little intimidated by the kind of material I’d be tackling. I’m not exactly a Batman expert (or as well-versed in the greater DC franchise as many people here in general), but I do enjoy expanding on the universe connected to the Teen Titans animated series. I’ve been meaning to tackle something related to the ‘verse’s Justice League, Batman and such for a while now, and this prompt gave me a great excuse to do so. It’s actually based on a concept that I’d already been playing around with, and now that I’ve written something for it there’s a pretty good chance that I’ll come back sometime to turn it into a full story.

I should note, a lot of my inspiration for characterization and such here (especially when it comes to Penguin’s personality) comes from animated series The Batman.

City-Sitting

Ragged laughter echoed through the still halls of the Gotham Bay Art Museum. Penguin strode down those halls, as he far too often did, like he owned the place. He wasn’t bothered by the nighttime security systems – his trained birds had already taken care of that – but he couldn’t help but wonder why the museums around here always saw fit to tempt him.

Well, their loss was his gain. With Batman away on Justice League business, Penguin stepped with an extra note of confidence into the newly expanded Ancient Wonders exhibit. It didn’t take him long to find his prize: an elegant – and, more importantly, priceless – sculpture of the Egyptian hawk-headed god Ra.

With a nasty little grin, he approached the statue and reached over its barrier. “Too easy,” he muttered to himself.

As if in defiance of that statement, a small disk flew in and burst at his feet. Smoke billowed out around the would-be thief, sending him back with a startled yelp.

“You didn’t really think we’d leave Gotham unprotected, did you?”

Penguin started again and turned at the sound of that voice. The smoke was thinner here, and through the haze he was able to make out a familiar but long-absent form, already clutching his bo staff.

“Well well, if it isn’t the little bird-brain come back to the nest,” Penguin drawled with a smirk. “I was expecting the other brat, but with Daddy Bat gone this won’t be a problem either way.”

Robin gave his staff a little twirl and showed off a smirk of his own. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”

Well, Penguin was done talking. With a flick of his wrist, he pointed his trick umbrella forward and shot off the explosive tip. Robin was forced to step back and shield himself with his cape as it burst against him, giving Penguin a chance to turn around and grab the sculpture through the thinning smoke. In another moment he had his umbrella’s copter mode running, and he quickly rose up past the costumed teen.

Ha! It really was too easy. Those chumps over in Jump must have let Robin go soft.

There was a flash of green light, and his copter mechanism exploded.

Penguin had just enough time to think that he should seriously stop tempting fate before he slammed hard onto the museum floor, the statue of Ra rolling harmlessly out of his grip. Robin stood over him and pressed his staff against the dazed villain’s chest, keeping him down while he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Meanwhile, a purple-clad girl that Penguin had only ever seen in newspaper images flew into his range of vision and swooped down to pick up the statue.

“I thought the Penguin was one of your mentor’s most troublesome adversaries,” the girl commented as she checked the statue over for damage, nodded in satisfaction, and placed it back on its pedestal.

Robin glanced back at her, that stupid smirk still on his face. “He is when he doesn’t get too cocky. You should have seen him the first time Superman was in town.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Robin had to keep himself from laughing as he relayed the story back to Batman.

“I barely had to do anything but distract him while Star got into position. I think that might be the fastest Penguin’s ever been taken down!”

The voice on the other line hummed in thought. “Good work, but don’t get too comfortable,” it finally said. “That only worked as well as it did because he wasn’t expecting an enemy who could fly. Now that you’ve used up the element of surprise, the news of who’s here is going to spread through Gotham’s underworld and you can bet the next criminals will be ready for you.”

Robin fought back a scowl – as much as he wanted to just take pride in this victory, Batman was right. He glanced up at Starfire, who was flying several yards ahead of his cycle as they traversed one of the many secret tunnels leading to the Batcave. She remained silent, though whether she was leaving him to his conversation or simply didn’t have a comment he wasn’t sure.

“I know,” he said at length. “We’ll just have to be ready for them too.”

“This isn’t a vacation, Dick. Don’t think I didn’t notice your choice of partner.”

Now Robin did scowl down at the console on the R-cycle. “Is that seriously what you think is going on here?!” he snapped. “Starfire’s my teammate, Bruce. I didn’t bring her along as a date, I brought her because of how well we work together.” He fixed his gaze ahead and revved up the cycle, bleeding off some of his frustration into the increased speed. Day one in Gotham and he was already missing his home and the rest of his team.

Maybe it was that acceleration or maybe Starfire deliberately slowed down for a moment, but suddenly she was keeping pace at his right. She said nothing other than a tentative, “Robin?” but the concerned look she gave him told him she was ready to mediate if need be.

Meanwhile, a sigh sounded through the other end of the line. “…I suppose I know that,” Bruce admitted. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt out there. Either of you.”

Robin grit his teeth, but his frustration was already starting to drain away. “I know,” he muttered.

The tunnel opened up then, into a vast cavern that Robin hadn’t seen in far too long. “We’re here,” he informed the console as he slowed to a stop. “I’ll update you again later.”

The Batcave hadn’t changed as much as he had expected. The main computer had been upgraded, of course, and the trophy area had a few new additions, but everything still felt so… familiar.

Of course, that wouldn’t mean much to someone who had never seen the place before. Robin couldn’t help but smile at Starfire’s low gasp as she rose slowly toward the ceiling, rotating this way and that to take everything in.

“I take it you approve, Lady Kory?”

Both young heroes looked over to find Alfred waiting for them on the upper floor. Starfire grinned and flew over to alight next to him.

“The Batman’s base of operations is most impressive,” she said with a small incline of her head. “Thank you again for hosting us during our stay.”

Alfred’s lip quirked into a small smile of his own. “Of course. Any friend of Master Dick’s is welcome here.” He turned on his heel and started making his way toward the exit into the rest of Wayne Manor. “Right this way, please. I took the liberty of bringing your bags in, but I will need to ask that you change into civilian clothes once you are inside. One never knows.”

Robin played a little at the edge of his mask as he followed the other two through the entrance into the Manor proper before finally peeling it off. It felt almost wrong – he’d been doing the full-time hero gig for so long now that he was used to only removing his uniform in his own private quarters. Getting called by his birth name on a regular basis again was also going to take some getting used to.

Robin – Dick, now – was pulling his gloves off when he finally caught up to Alfred, Starfire disappearing ahead of them. “’Lady’ Kory?” he asked the butler, one brow raised.

Alfred merely shrugged. “I know I won’t be able to use it if company comes by, but it seemed sufficient given her… unique station.” The corner of his lip quirked again ever-so-slightly, in a smirk that Dick doubted anyone who didn’t know the man well would notice. “I suspected that you would both object were I to attempt the more appropriate ‘Highness.’”

Dick scowled. “I still can’t believe you guys knew she was a princess before I did,” he grumbled.

Alfred strode forward. “Master Bruce’s associates include several high-ranking extraterrestrials, and this is hardly the first time their duties have taken them off-world. I would have been more worried had he not known.”

Dick snorted and shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. He had to admit, it did feel good visiting Gotham again… even if he and Starfire had been called away to deal with Penguin before they’d even gotten to the Manor.

Speaking of Starfire, she reappeared a few moments later in casual clothes and one of Cyborg’s holographic rings. She had remembered to stay on the ground while in her civilian wear, but still she seemed to almost glide over the floor. He suddenly found it very hard to take his eyes off her.

“Your k’norf- Your guardian’s home is beautiful, Richard,” she commented with a warm smile.

Dick returned it, and without thinking he blurted out, "So are you."

Immediately he felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he started stammering, “Uh… What I mean is… I guess you’re right.”

Star – Kory? – giggled a little behind her hand, and a lightly impish smile appeared on her face. “Do I make an attractive human?” she asked, twirling once to show off her disguised form. It wasn’t far too different from her true appearance – human-toned tan skin and hazel eyes, longer eyebrows, and a smattering of freckles that Cyborg had said would break up her face shape, but that Robin suspected he’d really added just because he could.

“Of course you do,” Dick replied, smoother this time. “You’d look great no matter what disguise you wore.”

Kory blushed a little at the compliment, but after a moment she looked around the living area again and her smile softened. She let out a contented sigh.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Kory made her way to a plush armchair and sank down into it, turning to face him again. “I am glad that we can visit your old home for a time, even if it is to watch the city while your mentor is away,” she replied. “I know he has his reservations, but I believe we can still have some of the fun here when we are not working.”

Dick snorted and strode over to her, resting his arms on the back of the chair when he reached it. She craned her head to look up at him, a hint of that playful twinkle still in her eyes.

“Bruce is just protective of the people he cares about,” he said. “And sometimes that protectiveness comes out as kind of harsh. It took me a while to realize that.”

Kory smiled again. “He reminds me of Galfore, in some ways. In any case, I believe I will enjoy Gotham.”

Dick snorted. “Don’t get too comfortable. Batman didn’t get his reputation by dealing with petty criminals all the time.”

For a moment, all mirth in his partner’s face vanished and she became dead serious. “Of course,” she said earnestly. “I would not let my guard down just because I wish to appreciate the positive aspects of the city.”

Dick chuckled. Of course she would take a mindful but positive approach to their mission. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. She giggled.

“Need I remind you,” Alfred’s dry voice broke in, “that removing your mask alone does not constitute civilian clothes.”

Dick jolted and looked down at himself, finally remembering that he was still wearing most of his Robin costume.

“Uhh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, I’ll go and change now.” He started off for his room, flashing Alfred an apologetic smile and offering Kory an awkward wave. She waved back, her expression impish again.

As he passed by Alfred, the older man held out a hand to stop him for a moment. “I wanted you to know that I took the liberty of preparing a separate room for Lady Kory,” he said. “I hope this was not done in error?”

Dick’s face screwed up in confusion. “No, why wouldn’t she need…” He trailed off as he saw that tiny hidden smirk on Alfred’s face again.

All at once he realized what Alfred was trying to imply, and his face went beet red with embarrassment. He made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat and pushed past the butler, praying that his girlfriend hadn’t overheard.

#Teen Titans #Robin #Starfire #robstar #robstarweek #fanfiction #writing #prompt #Alfred is the best DC superhero

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msephy · 5 years

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Upbringing chap 8/?

And here is chapter 8 :)

There should be 13 or 14 chapters in total.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Cross-posted to AO3

Earth 53 - Jason Todd

Speeding through Gotham alongside Bruce was all kinds of wrong. First of all because if felt right. Of course. Damnit, and damn him, and damn the original him, and… Fuck.

Now wasn’t the time to think about how fucked up Jason’s life was. Now was the time to find a lost Robin. Or Damian. Or whatever name he used.

“Nothing on the North side, either,” Dick (Robin) (this was going to be confusing) said in his ear.

He’d received his own earpiece right after jumping into his gear, Dick slipping it to him as he accompanied them to the Batmobile, explaining he’d use the cameras to help them out.

His gear had been washed. Not the armor, but the clothes. Nobody had touched the weapons. His guns were still there.

This whole thing was confusing.

“Thank you, Robin,” Bruce answered, his voice tight, without even slowing down. Of course he wouldn’t.

“What his codename?” Jason asked, mostly to distract himself from the worry churning at his belly. Probably for nothing, too. Damian was though, his own remarks notwithstanding.

“Who? Robin?”

“Obviously not, I heard that one. I meant the kid. Younger kid. Whatever.”

“Ah. Shadow.”

“Of fucking course,” Jason grumbled. “At least it’s not a bird.”

“I tried to make him chose Crow, but it’s already taken,” Dick babbled in his ear, his good humor hiding badly is own worry. “Or Blackbird. Or Nightbird.” Jason snorted. “Or Starling. He threw a fit at that one. Or…”

The enumeration stopped abruptly. Jason and Bruce froze in a same movement. “Robin?” Bruce called, ordered. Jason felt his spine straightened.

“Not Damian,” Dick said. “I mean Shadow. But I spotted something.”

“Elaborate.”

“Please,” Jason mocked. Bruce glared at him.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Dick was saying. “But I think it was Talia.”

Jason swore. Then swore again when he saw Bruce relax. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s bad news.”

“She wouldn’t hurt Shadow,” Bruce said with the assurance of the unaware.

“Are you fucking kidding me? She’ll obey Ra’s, whatever the cost.” Jason argued. Then he frowned. “What she can do is find a loophole and make sure things go the way she wants them to anyway. She’ll obey the letter of his words, not the meaning.”

“You think she showed herself on purpose.”

“I think that no camera would have caught her if she hadn’t meant it to.”

“But what could Ra’s possibly want from Damian?” Bruce exclaimed. He’d never sounded so much younger than his counterpart.

Jason shrugged. “The same he’s wanted from the start. I mean. Why else would he have allowed Talia to keep him? If he didn’t order her to have him to start with.”

Bruce winced visibly despite the cowl. Looked like it was a sore point.

“Anyway, we’d better find out if Ra’s is around before he possesses Damian or something.”

“Ra’s wouldn’t hurt Shadow,” Bruce said pointedly.

Jason stared. But he seemed to mean it. “Are you a moron?” Jason asked, unbelieving. “Ra’s is a criminal. Him not behaving as destructively as the Joker doesn’t give him a pass. You of all people should know that!”

And Jason couldn’t believe he was the one who had to say it. God knew how often he’d secretly hoped Bruce would give him a pass. But no, no, that was reserved for beautiful, dangerous women.

Jason inspired, trying to calm down. “Besides,” he managed. “I wasn’t pulling that out of my ass, that’s what Ra’s actually tried to pull off, in our world. I don’t have the details, only as much as Drake told me.”

“More birds?” Dick whispered, Jason assumed, in his ear only, because Bruce didn’t snap back at him. It really wasn’t a good time. Yet the joke loosened something inside Jason; something bad, that had been growing since the morning and which retreated suddenly in the depths of his feelings.

Jason relaxed. Bruce, on the other hand, was so wired you could have broken stone on him.

“Where did you see her?” he finally asked Dick.

“The Bowery, next to the flower shop.”

Bruce fired his line and Jason followed. It was too early for the Demon Head to want Damian’s body. No?

Please let it be too early.

###

Earth 1 – Jason Wayne

Jason got out of the shower feeling invigorated. They hadn’t made a full patrol, just half, allegedly to discharge Bruce a bit. The only thing Jason didn’t know was if Dick had taken the patrol as excuse to observe him, or if he’d observed him as excuse to actually discharge Bruce a bit.

Either way, they’d had fun without tiring themselves so much.

Jason sat down at the computer and started updating the files, checking on the latest updates from GCPD and some information sent by Oracle.

“Who is this Oracle? They’re amazing,” Jason said absentmindedly when he heard Dick get out of his own shower.

“Bruce allows you to use the batcomputer? I wouldn’t have expected him to.”

“I didn’t really give him the choice. Checking what I do will take him less time than doing it himself. I log all the details, to make sure of it.”

Dick snorted, sitting on the table. Jason raised his eyebrows. Dick made a face. “You’re not Alfred.”

“He’s old and cleaning after you boys all the time.”

“I’m not getting anything dirty! Also, you are barely older than me.”

“Still older.”

“Jackass.”

“Love you too.” Jason blinked. “I mean,” he laughed. “We barely know each other. But clearly, we both have siblings.”

“Clearly,” Dick echoed. Then he sighed.

“He’ll be back,” Jason assured him. “I don’t intend to stay here and I’m pretty sure your Bruce wouldn’t leave one of his sons in another world, even the prodigal one.”

“How is your world? Is he going to be alright?”

Jason shrugged. “It’s pretty much similar to this one. Very nice way to guilt me into giving you intel, by the way.” Dick grinned. Jason smiled. “In any case,” he continued. “I think my Gotham is a bit better off than yours, but there are still dangerous people out there. Bruce – my brother I mean – won’t let your Jason get hurt, though.”

Dick darkened. It looked like his Bruce had let his Jason get hurt. It happened, in this kind of life. Jason would rather not know the details.

“So, Oracle?” Jason asked to distract him. “Who are they?”

“Oh.” Dick blinked. “It’s Barbara. She doesn’t help, in your world?”

“In my world, she’s busy studying law and determined to become a cop. Can’t say that Jim is delighted, but I think he’s secretly proud.”

“A cop? Babs?” Dick seemed to think about it, then shrugged. “I guess I always thought she had too much of a tendency to find trouble to follow that path.”

“Oh, she still does. She kicked Luthor in the balls once.”

“And she survived?” Dick marveled.

Jason grinned dreamily at the memory. “She was pretending to be drunk at the time. He had to let it slide.”

“Oh god, I wished I’d been there.”

“It was very satisfying,” Jason confirmed, smiling broadly. “Especially since, you know, we had an informal meeting right after. I plucked some of Lex’s feathers. He was very offended. And had a hard time sitting.”

“You do business with Luthor?”

Jason shrugged. “We’re mainly competitors but his R&D department does have some significant advancements that we can’t ignore. Mostly it’s not with LexCorp directly but one of his subsidiaries. He does own a lot of them. Isn’t it the same here?”

“I guess so. Clark is the one who handles him, mostly.”

“But in regard to WayneEnt?”

“You’ll have to ask Tim,” Dick shrugged. “He’s the brain of the operation. I merely show up on galas or support one specific project from time to time but handling the day to day of a business that huge? That’s not for me.”

“No, I guess it’s not,” Jason said, thinking about how the younger Dick from his world struggled to even learn to sit down for classes for more than an hour.

“You’re thinking of who to throw to the wolves in your own world?” Nightwing laughed.

“I doubt it will be you. Damian, maybe, if he settles when growing up.”

“Is Bruce the one with all the kids?”

“I didn’t think accepting Talia’s offer would be a good idea,” Jason smiled, before realizing it was a mistake. Nightwing’s head titled slightly. Ah, well. It didn’t really matter, if someone from another world knew about his bitterness.

“She seduced you both?”

“We seduced her back. We went to train to the League together, Bruce and I, or rather,” Jason laughed, “I refused to let Bruce leave by himself. To be honest, I loved it.”

“And Talia, too.”

“It doesn’t matter much. She wasn’t going to leave her life for either of us, and neither would we. It was a moot point.”

“Mhm. Sounds like I’m not the only one who should take more care of myself.”

Jason sighed. “I guess you aren’t.”

#byme #my fics #jason todd #jason wayne #bruce wayne #upbringing #batfamily

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 53

First

~~~

Marinette took in the weird strap on Joker’s hand and raised her eyebrows. Whatever it was, it had to be bad, because Damian wasn’t even trying to struggle out of his grip. It looked like one of those hand buzzers that people sometimes use to shock their friends, but it had to be deadly. Did it electrocute? Was it poisoned? She hoped she wouldn’t find out.

Whatever it was, none of them could do anything before Joker showed them what it did.

“Nice of you to drop in,” said Joker, motioning to the window they’d crashed through. “Now, if I could just glass-k you to drop your weapons and step back.”

She glanced at Jason.

He reluctantly began digging into his pockets and dropping weapon after weapon on the ground. When he got to his guns his hands hovered over his waist for a good few seconds. A confused expression passed over his face, only to quickly be replaced by vague annoyance. He must have dropped one while fighting Dick. He sighed and dropped the one he still had.

Marinette looked at her utility belt and bit the inside of her cheek. She reminded herself that Joker didn’t actually know that the miraculi were in there, so as long as he didn’t go through her pockets it would be fine. She carefully set it on the ground (she didn’t want a smoke bomb to go off and startle Joker when she didn’t know what his weapon did) and then set down her yoyo as well.

They took a few steps back.

Joker smiled, though that wasn’t new.

“So… wanna monologue?” Tried Marinette. Jason sent her a look and all she could do was shrug. They needed time to think out a plan.

Joker paused to think, then nodded. “I’ll have to do something while we wait for Bats to fly on over, I suppose.”

“Batman is coming?” Asked Marinette, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep! Because you’re going to make a distress call! Right now!”

Jason winced and brought a hand to his ear. “Hey, uh, Bats… good news and bad news. Good news is: we found Joker! Bad news is: we found Joker!” He said their location and then let his hand fall to his side.

Marinette tried not to let it show on her face that anything was amiss. Jason hadn’t actually transmitted anything; she hadn’t heard double like she usually did, which meant that he hadn’t actually pressed on his comm. Hopefully Joker wouldn’t kill anyone until Batman showed up, because it would likely be a few hours before he checked up on all their locations and realized something was amiss. That was good, maybe they’d have a plan or something by then.

Joker gave a cold laugh and then launched into his monologue: “I’ll be honest, I would’ve never dreamed that you would have managed to betray me like that.”

What? He’d never met Ladybug before, and why had he said dreamed like that --?

Marinette’s shoulders tensed. “You knew?”

“Oh, yeah. Figured you were bugged the day you came in. You never had that ‘one bad day’ that usually turns criminals, I can always tell, and your appearance in Gotham was too soon after Ladybug’s to be coincidence.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together and she glanced at Jason, who looked just as shocked and confused. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“I considered it, but where’s the pun in that?”

He pressed his hand closer to Damian’s neck. Damian went completely rigid (save for the rise and fall of his chest, which was getting faster and faster with each breath).

“Besides,” continued Joker, as if he hadn’t just threatened him, “I figured that I could mess with you a bit, break you a little, see how that affected Bats. I really didn’t expect you to kill that clerk, but it was very convenience that you did.”

Everyone in the room frowned confusedly.

“You know, convenience? Like a convenience store? Instead of convenient?”

“Ooooooh,” mumbled Jason.

“Anyways, all I was trying to do was get you to go against your morals. You were already on your last little piece of sanity, I figured that robbing a store would be enough. But then you killed someone! Cut them in half, even!”

“Can we stop talking about it?” Marinette hissed, her voice high. She could feel tears forming in her eyes at the memory and she was not about to cry in front of Joker.

Joker gave a humorless laugh. “Sure, sure, of horse. I was hoping that I could break you down enough to kill Bats like I tried with Red Robin, but this time it was supposed to work.” He gave what he must have thought was a pitiful sigh, but it sounded more like an asthmatic’s wheeze. “Tragic, though. You hardly ever came and it was only four months, not nearly enough to work with. I had to change my plans.”

“To…?” Prompted Jason, who was shifting around anxiously.

She met Jason’s eyes. Where was Cass? The only two allies they could possibly have were her and Dick but, apparently, neither of them were in any position to fight. Dick was barely stirring now, groaning from his place on the floor, and Cass was apparently still incapacitated somewhere.

Joker thrummed his foot on the floor impatiently. “The plan is murdering all of you in front of your father, but where is he?”

“Getting here takes time,” assured Marinette, sweat beading on the back of her neck.

They weren’t going to be getting any help. She couldn’t do anything without Damian getting hurt and letting him die was the last resort… but did she have any other options...?

“Yes, yes, I suppose that’s true…” Joker sighed. “Where’s the rest of you? I heard more people fighting earlier, are they still around? Thanks for wearing each other out, by the way, really makes my job easier.”

Marinette winced. “Why would we tell you anything? You’re going to try and kill us anyways.”

“Because you’re deciding whether everyone dies quickly or slowly,” said Joker, pulling a gun from his pocket and pressing it to the side of Damian’s head. “So, Joker venom or gun? Which one?”

So that’s what that hand thing was. It was even worse than she thought.

Tears finally spilled over her mask and she hugged her jacket around herself. She had no clue what to do. What was right in this type of situation?

She looked at Jason anxiously. He looked just as lost as she was.

Joker’s smile dropped and she felt her skin crawl. He hadn’t made any bad puns or jokes for a while now, and now he had even stopped smiling? They were screwed.

“I’ll give you five seconds before I get to decide! 5…”

Marinette bit her cheek so hard she tasted blood. If he was going after everyone then should they take the longer route so Duke, Cass, and Tim could get away --?

“4…”

Jason was looking at his gun. Would he be fast enough? Not enough to make sure Damian didn’t get hurt but maybe he could get a shot off before Joker could hurt anyone else --.

“3…”

She met Damian’s eyes and he gave her a weak smile and looked at her yoyo. ‘Fix this’. She really wished he wouldn’t rely on her ability so much, she didn’t know if she could win --.

“2…”

No! She needed more time! All she wanted was more --!

“1!”

She opened her mouth to speak and Jason made a mad grab for his gun --.

A gunshot rang out.

Blood splattered over Damian and Joker slumped on top of him. He gave a strangled yelp and pushed the body off of him, quickly scrambling away.

She looked at Jason and frowned. His hands were a good few inches away from his gun, so who…?

Then she realized Jason was looking at something, his face slack with shock.

She followed his gaze to Dick, who was still pointing one of Jason’s guns at where Joker’s head had been.

“You are not taking another brother away from me.”

Dick let the gun clatter to the floor and took a few shaky breaths, burying his head in his hands.

Marinette’s eyes flickered between Dick and Damian. They both were obviously not doing well. Dick had done something against his morals. Damian had almost died again. Really, it was no surprise that they were both freaking out.

Jason ran to Dick’s side. Good, then he would be taken care of.

She pulled off her leather jacket and handed it to Damian. He frowned as he took it.

“Um…?”

“It’ll… cover the blood,” she mumbled, motioning to the red coating his back. “Bats can’t find out.”

He nodded and pulled it on. She pulled the hood over his head and pressed a tiny kiss to his cheek.

“Jason was right, it really is always you two. I’m starting to think that maybe it’s more that you’re both idiots that jump into dumb situations than luck, though.”

He gave her something between a smile and a wince.

“Yeah, you’re the one with all the bad luck,” he said, giving her shoulder a small shove.

“And I throw myself into dumb situations. It’s the worst of both worlds.”

That earned a laugh. Yay!

Their eyes fell onto Joker’s body. Ah. Not yay. She swallowed thickly and looked away.

“Cataclysm,” whispered Damian, leaning down to press his hand to the corpse.

It disintegrated until all that was left of Joker was a red puddle and the memories of his horrors.

She glanced at where Jason was slowly pulling Dick to his feet, an arm over his shoulders. It seemed that Dick had gone into shock. She sighed softly.

“Dami, go help? I’m going to grab everything.”

Damian looked like he wanted to argue, but then he nodded and ducked under Dick’s other arm.

Marinette went to work grabbing her things. She reattached her utility belt and tucked away her yoyo, then she worked at attaching everything she could to her waist. Whatever she couldn’t get to stick she ended up scooping into her arms.

She walked over to the door and held it open for the others.

The four left the warehouse in silence.

A few buildings away she stopped. She took off her miraculi and heard a curse from a nearby rooftop as Duke and Tim’s cage disappeared. After a few seconds she saw two heads hesitantly peek over the edge. Relief washed over their faces when they saw they were okay, only to quickly be replaced by anxiety when Joker was nowhere to be found. The two hopped down and joined their walk.

She pulled her earrings back on and transformed. She didn’t need to get spotted and have Marinette Dupain Cheng to go trending on twitter again.

She felt Tim’s arm wrap around her waist and blinked. She hadn’t even realized she was shaking until he was pulling her close to his side to hold her steady.

About a block later, Damian pointed his finger down an alley. After a few seconds, Cass emerged. She seemed mostly fine, with only a few scratches on her face and clothes and messy hair. She reached behind herself and pulled until a cat let go of her outfit and she dropped the stray. She sent Damian a glare so harsh that Marinette felt a bit intimidated even though it wasn’t aimed at her.

For a while all that could be heard was their footsteps.

“So... is he…?” Began Duke.

Marinette gave him a nod.

“Who did it?” Asked Tim, his grip tightening somewhat on her waist.

The four who had been there tensed up and looked at each other. What were they supposed to say? The truth? Dick was already looking dead inside, she doubted he could deal with everyone looking at him like he was a murderer --.

Jason grinned. “Me. Who else? I’m not letting any of you guys have something like that on your consciences.”

Dick gave his brother a grateful smile, tiny as it was.

Marinette glanced at Cass, who looked somewhat stunned. But she didn’t call anyone out on the lie, just continued walking.

“Can you fix it?” Asked Tim.

“Nope, I used my lucky charm for my fight with you and Duke. Even if it hadn’t disappeared when I took off my earrings it wouldn’t have revived Joker.” She actually didn’t know if she was lying. There was a reason why she hadn’t said miraculous ladybug despite them all being hurt: she hadn’t wanted to test it. Now, though, all the lucky charms she had used that night were all gone. It was definitely irreversible “He can’t come back.”

Silence stretched over them again as it sunk in.

Marinette was the one to break it: “So it’s really over...”

“Not really, there’s still a lot of organized crime for us to go after. It’s Gotham, there’s always something going on,” said Duke.

“Bane’s still out there,” said Tim.

“And Mr. Freeze,” muttered Damian.

Jason sighed. “Don’t forget Two-Face.”

Damian grimaced. “Or Ra’s Al Ghul.”

“Clayface,” said Duke.

“Magpie,” offered Cass.

Even Dick joined in with a whispered: “Man-bat.”

Marinette held up her hands to quiet them. “Okay, okay, now you’re making people up.”

“Nope!” Said Jason, giving a small smile.

“Oh! Forgot one: Red Hood counts as a Rogue, depending on who you ask,” Damian piped up.

Jason’s smile dropped into a scowl. “Shut up,” he complained, leaning around Dick to swat his younger brother in the back of the head.

Damian clicked his tongue and gave him a hit back.

Big mistake.

Everyone came to a stop as Damian and Jason began running around a very annoyed and very tired Dick. The oldest tried, and failed, to bring order by grabbing them and pushing them apart, but he was easily the most drained by the night and just ended up getting a few stray punches thrown at him.

Duke and Cass started placing bets on who would kill who first.

She felt a smile rise to her face despite everything that had just happened.

“It’s okay now. It’s over,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

Tim pulled her closer and rested his chin on top of her head.

“It is.”

~~~

For the person who asked, Damian cheated while fighting Cass and set some stray cats on her. She couldn’t bring herself to hurt them

Epilogue timeeeeee

Taglist

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #satisfied #maribat

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thingr1 · 6 years

Text

Weighing One’s Worth (1/2)

Rating: T

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt.

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne.

Preview: There was a beat of tense silence, during which Tim could feel the youngest Wayne's gaze boring into him, taking in the scene before him. He lowered the gun, an admittedly useless gesture: Damian had already seen him.

Then, "What are you doing?"

Cross posted: FFN and AO3 (1-15-16). (A/N found on both sites)

Prequel: Of Milkshakes and Marathons. (Not necessary to understand story.)

Second Chapter: Here

Sequel: Focus on the Fallout

So you thought you had to keep this up 

All the work that you do so we think that you're good 

And you can't believe it's not enough 

All the walls you built up are just glass on the outside

~"Healing Begins" by Tenth Avenue North

There were good nights. There were bad nights. There were somewhere in between nights. There were great nights. There were horrible nights. And then there were nights when you really began to wonder if it was really even worth the fight at all.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Everyone copes with things differently. Tim? Well, he typically ended up curled up in the tiny space between his bed and the wall, cynically considering his options. One of which included a handgun tucked away in a shoebox under the floorboards.

A handgun that now found itself hanging heavy in his hand.

There were definitely other, less violent ways to end it all. Downing a couple pills, braining himself on the bedside table, slitting his wrists and bleeding out on the bathroom floor... But Tim didn't need any more time to think. Nothing was faster or more efficient than a bullet to the head. It was also less painful, though he tried not to think about the selfishness of that.

Not to mention the irony of using a gun, the start of Batman's career and, in essence, the beginning of Red Robin's.

Tim had thought it through. He had never been one to rush into something, especially such a life-changing—he held back a snort—decision as the one he was about to make.

The best part? No one even knew what Tim really felt.

Because Tim was an expert liar. Actually, better than expert. It came as naturally to him as breathing. He supposed that should probably disturb him, but it didn't. It happened to be a very useful skill in the face of nosy coworkers, friends, and relatives. Lies were nearly always easier to face than the truth.

Hiding his true feelings was one such lie. Facades and masks defined him, his true emotions corked tightly within a bottle inside, never ever to see the light of day; only the waning moonlight filtering through the curtains of his apartment, or, at the moment, his Wayne Manor bedroom. This practice of falsehood had extended to himself, almost so he was convinced he was okay; that he could handle the horrible stress and pain that was life.

He remembered the time when he'd hated the lying involved with the mask: to his father, to his friends, wanting nothing more than to give them a straight answer for once. But now...

Well. There comes a time when even the best liars start to crack.

And if Tim was being honest (haha), he lied to himself as often, if not more frequently than he did to his friends and...family.

Could he even call them his family? Sure, it was all down on paper, but just like blood, ink wasn't what made a family family.

His fingers ghosted over the safety mechanism, hesitating before flicking it off.

Replacement. Pretender.

At least Jason knew what Tim really was.

Tim had practically forced his way into this secret life in his desperation to be Robin after Jason's death. He had never been Robin; not really. He had been (still was) unwanted and unchosen. The outsider in Bruce's hand-picked family. Why should he even bother sticking around if no one had ever really wanted him in the first place?

A harsh laugh escaped his throat. After all the pain, all the danger, all the narrow escapes brought on by patrolling the streets of Gotham, the mighty Red Robin was going to go down via a handgun by his own volition. The irony.

Rock steady, he raised the gun barrel to his temple, the cold tip pressing against his scalp. He couldn't fight this feeling anymore. It was better for everyone this way. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his finger around the trigger.

"Drake!" called a familiar voice, shattering the previous silence as Tim's room door flew open (hadn't Tim locked it?) and slammed into the opposite wall. Before Tim could overcome his shock and slide the gun under the bed, footsteps echoed across the room.

"Grayson is..." The pompous voice trailed off, a tiny shadow stretching along the wall pausing at the foot of the bed as its owner halted his footsteps.

There was a beat of tense silence, during which Tim could feel the youngest Wayne's gaze boring into him, taking in the scene before him. He lowered the gun, an admittedly useless gesture: Damian had already seen him.

Then, "What are you doing?" Damian asked carefully, cynically—uncaringly.

"It's...it's not what it looks like," Tim managed, cheeks flushing at being caught by the brat, of all people. Well...the brat was better than Bruce or Dick. At least Damian wouldn't try to stop him. "Go away."

"It looks like you're about to do something either profoundly smart, or ridiculously stupid," Damian said, completely ignoring Tim's last statement.

"And why would you care?" Tim countered, finally glaring up at the smaller boy.

Crystal blue eyes stared down at him, not a single emotion crossing the 10-year-old's face. He didn't respond.

The minutes ticked by, Tim's initial discomfort being overcome by anger at Damian's lack of response. "Look," he snapped, "my business is my business. You can stay or go away, I don't care. But staring at me won't get you anywhere."

No reply. Well, he'd given him a chance.

Damian watched him in continued silence, eyes narrowed as Tim double-checked the safety was off, raising the barrel to his head.

Briefly, Tim wondered if this was really appropriate to be doing in front of a 10-year-old. He immediately dismissed the thought. This was a baby assassin who'd been killing since birth and who'd been not-so-secretly wishing Tim's demise since the day they'd met. To him, this would be a show.

Why not go out entertaining the brat? If he couldn't satisfy his peers, why not the son?

His finger tensed on the trigger.

"Stop."

Tim flinched at the sound. It wasn't quite an order. Damian almost sounded...young. Like his age, for once.

"If you're insistent upon doing this," Damian said, tone deceptively flat, "you'd better have a good reason, Drake."

Tim blinked. "It's not that simple."

Damian folded his arms over his chest. "I've got time."

Surprised, Tim hesitated. The truth pressed up against the lies, squeezing under his skin and begging to be set free. But after all these years, could he really just let them go? "No one would notice if I was gone anyway," he murmured, bidding for time.

Raising an eyebrow, Damian said, "Care to elaborate?"

Before Tim could make up his mind whether to actually answer the brat or not, his mouth decided for him: "From the beginning, Bruce never chose me as his Robin. I had to force him to take me on, to give me a chance. Heck, even Dick didn't want me to be Robin. I had to earn the right to the role."

Tim ran a hand through his hair, taking a shaky breath. "In a way, I was proud. Dick and Jason became Robin because Batman picked them, trained them, taught them everything he knew because he wanted to. I proved myself to him, showed him I could do everything...well, nearly everything that Dick and Jason could do and live to tell the tale. But that came at a price: Bruce refused to accept me completely as his partner.

"To him, I was—am—just an expendable asset, another soldier in his endless, self-driven crusade. I don't think I ever made the rank of equal in his eyes. Not like Dick and Jason did."

Impassive blue eyes stared down at him. Tim imagined he heard the brat mutter under his breath, "That's not true," but Tim was already launching into his next justification, unable to stop the flow of words now that he'd finally loosened the cork on his pent up emotions.

"I'm just a packhorse. The one in charge of all the projects nobody wants to do. Even as I sit here, the work keeps piling up. I just can't deal with all this anymore. Patrol, Wayne Enterprises, the Teen Titans, Bruce's cases..." He closed his eyes, pressing the palm of his free hand into his eye, fighting back the overwhelming pressure of panic squeezing his heart. "Too much. Nothing I do is enough, never satisfy anyone, never good enough. I can't..." He huffs, breath hitching slightly on the intake. "As you've kindly pointed out on multiple occasions, no one will even notice when my incompetency is gone."

Out of breath, he glared at the 10-year-old mulishly. "And why am I telling you all this? You never wanted me to exist in the first place."

Damian made no move to either confirm or deny that fact. Not that it mattered. Tim could practically see the gears turning in his little head as the demon attempted to drop the blame on someone else.

"Nobody will miss me much," Tim said matter-of-factly, hammering the final nail in his own coffin. "I mean, they might be sad for awhile, but they'll get over it."

There was a tense silence, two pairs of blue eyes glaring stoically into each other.

"Father will mourn you till the day he dies," Damian stated flatly, startling Tim at the sudden interruption from the formerly impassive boy. "Grayson will go crazy with guilt and grief, berating himself for not being a better big brother before he falls apart completely. Todd will blow a gasket and murder every criminal in Arkham. Cain would distance herself and spend years trying to figure out where she went wrong. Pennyworth's heart would break into a million pieces—again." The young hero fixed Tim with a glare worthy of the Bat. "And I would hate you for destroying our family with your selfishness."

Tim swallowed thickly, hesitating. "You already hate me," he offered weakly.

Damian tutted. "What does my opinion matter? You have won the affections of Grayson, my father, and a whole team of young superheroes. Not to mention Cain and Todd. What do you think the latter two would do if they caught you like this?"

Tim winced at the mental picture.

"Especially Superboy," Damian added. Then, not quite an afterthought: "Even I don't actually hate you."

At that, Tim shot him an incredulous look.

"That much," the baby assassin corrected.

Their eyes locked, blue on blue; one pair challenging, the other stubbornly stoic.

Tim huffed. "Fine." He allowed the barrel of the gun to drop, swinging it to face the wall. "Funk over. You can go now."

"Give me the gun, Drake."

Tim blinked. "Why?"

Damian snorted. "If you're truly not planning on blowing your idiotic brains out the moment I step out of this room, then give. Me. The gun."

Tim hesitated. It couldn't be that simple...could it?

No. It was too late. Damian already knew, so if Tim didn't go through with this he'd run the very high risk of the rest of the Bats finding out. Tim didn't think he could stand that; he could practically see the disappointment in Bruce's eyes as yet another of his soldiers failed his mission...

Almost absently, he buried the gun barrel back into his hair. His finger tensed on the trigger.

Missing nothing, Damian's eyes flared. "Very well, Drake," he announced imperiously. "If you're going, you're going to have to take me with you." Before Tim could blink, a knife was in the child's hand, the gleaming tip pressed against Damian's jugular.

"If you refuse to believe everyone—and I mean everyone—will miss you, think of what my father and Grayson would do if they saw me dead," Damian challenged. "And don't think for one second I won't go through with it if you dare pull that trigger, Drake."

Of all the ways this could have gone down from the moment Damian walked through the door, Tim would never have thought of this outcome in a million years.

Tim blinked slowly.

But no. Damian still stood before him, the razor sharp knife pressing dangerously into his own neck, an almost wild glint in his eyes.

"Because people will miss you, Drake," Damian continued in a strange, almost choked tone. "I only have Grayson and father. But you...you've got actual friends and family who love you not because of what you can do, but just because you're you. And that's good enough for them."

Blinking rapidly, Damian's eyes seemed to be shining a little brighter in the lowlight.

"They accept you for who you are, and when you make a mistake, they forgive you," he continued with a barely noticeable sniff. "They cry with you when you are sad, and laugh along when you are happy. If that's not love, then my interpretations of the concept are inaccurate. And I am never wrong."

"Damian," Tim sighed shakily. "You don't know what you're doing. Put the knife down."

"No, it's you who doesn't know what you're doing, Drake," Damian growled. "If you die, everyone is going to shatter with you. And if the only way to make you see sense is to threaten my own life, then so be it."

Tim stared. And then it clicked. "You're trying to guilt trip me," he realized.

Damian smirked savagely, a sick, twisted little smile that had no place on such a young face. "I refuse to let you break this family," he said levelly. "It's the only family I have left. So you remove your fingers from that gun, and I'll drop the knife. It's that simple."

Tim hesitated. The gun suddenly seemed very there in his hand; the solid weight of the warming barrel pressed against his head and tickling his scalp, the pad of his finger wrapped around the trigger. He became aware of every breath in his lungs hissing through his larynx to his nose, of his heart beating slightly faster in his chest. All of his body parts functioning as one in a beautiful creation for the sole purpose of keeping Tim alive.

Doubt crept in at the edges for the first time since he'd made his life-changing—ha, still funny the second time 'round—decision. Maybe...maybe this wasn't the answer he was looking for.

Staring up at Damian, Tim could swear the demon's lower lip was trembling slightly. "Go ahead," the boy challenged, steel blue eyes sending him a silent challenge over the glistening edge of the knife digging into his skin. "Prove how much of a coward you are, Drake. Do it."

Blood pumping through his veins, hairs on the back of his neck bristling at a phantom chill, sweat trickling down his forehead, sweater rubbing irritatingly along his collar bone...

The family would be devastated at another death, especially if it was at Tim's own hands rather than an actual Gotham villain. After all, yourself wasn't supposed to be included as a "flight risk."

Damian was right. Tim was a selfish coward. Selfish to believe that his death would affect no one, that his work would take care of itself if he were gone. A coward because he was desperate enough to try and take the easy way out rather than suck it up and face his mountain of problems.

Maybe...maybe he didn't have to go through life alone.

If Damian, of all people—the one who'd tried to kill him when they'd first met, the one who threatened to murder him on a weekly basis, the one who daily insulted Tim's very existence—was trying to talk him out of it...

He cared. To some degree, the one Tim was sure hated his guts cared whether Tim lived or died.

And at that moment, Tim had never felt more alive.

Almost numb, his grip loosened on the weapon, fingers shaking as his muscles mushed into jelly.

Before he'd dropped it hardly an inch, the gun was snatched from his hands, the former assassin snapping open the cartridge and emptying the bullets onto the floor with one quick motion. With a look of utter distaste, Damian tossed the weapon into the corner, along with the knife that had somehow slipped past both Bruce's and Alfred's scrutiny.

Silently, Damian dropped to the floor at Tim's side. What he did next took Tim a moment to process: the Bat's son scooted closer, leaning forward and pressing his cheek against Tim's chest, even as one arm snaked around Tim's middle to grasp firmly at the fabric of Tim's sweater.

Tim stared. Damian...was cuddling?

The bundle of assassin huddled at his side radiated heat, slowly warming against Tim's side. He hadn't realized how cold he was until the little furnace decided to crawl up next to him.

It was...nice.

"Don't kill yourself," Damian whispered, so low Tim could barely hear him. "I would never forgive myself."

Not Dick. Not Bruce. Damian would never forgive himself.

"You've been spending too much time with Dick," Tim managed weakly.

"Tt. Just shut up and go to sleep, Drake."

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Batfic #My fic #old fic #Batman (comics)#Angst #Hurt/Comfort #sort of #Depression #Suicidal Thoughts #Suicide Attempt #r1fics #RascalJoy #rascalsoldfics #Where the Healing Begins (Fix You)

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