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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

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Picture Perfect

AYO! its me back with more content for the second time this week while i ignore my other wips again. this is a lil gift for @queen-o-leen who i promised wholesome content for! I hope you like it!

Timinette/Timari Oneshot 1.9K words (not related to my other timari oneshots)

Summary:

“Tim spends a nice day in a park in Paris and takes a picture of a pretty girl.

He somehow gets an almost date out of it.”

no warnings this time. completely family-friendly. I know i surprise myself with this one too.

without further ado

He would be the last to admit that Jason was right and that time away was what he needed at this point in life but it can’t be ignored that, for the first time in possibly three years, Tim was having a wonderful day. He was having a wonderful week actually. After one too many unsuccessful cold cases and the simmering anxiety of off-world missions, his family, primarily Jason, for some reason, demanded that he take some time off and away from his unusual brand of normal. How that meant being sent across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris of all places, he wasn’t entirely sure. Alfred probably had a hand in that decision given that, as part of his forced vacation, Tim was not allowed to actually plan any of it. Him. Timothy Jackson Drake. The guy who stalked and manoeuvred his way into Batman’s house and team. The guy who tracked and found said man when the universe thought he was dead but was actually drifting through time. Yeah, Tim was not pleased about being led blind on his vacation.

At least Paris was a nice city. And he brought his camera. He figured he could use this time to get back into old hobbies and what better hobby to start up again in the city of love than photography? He’s taken pictures of every tourist attraction worth visiting by his second day and began to take candid shots of people and animals. Would Damian like the animal pictures? Maybe, if they came from someone who wasn’t Tim. Is he going to try and give them to him anyways? Absolutely not. He liked his liver where it is, thank you very much. They would serve as great bribing material however. But that’s a thought for another day.

Right now he was working on capturing what could possibly be described as the stereotypical outing with friends. He’s sitting along some bushes near the entrance of a park and staring at a group of teens his own age hanging around. He spots a brunette with thick curls of hair animatedly speaking with a guy in a vibrant cap. She’s waving a camera herself, and he appreciates her taste in equipment. Her eyes spark with fox-like mischief while the cap guy has a peaceful aura about him; like an old turtle. Next he sees a blonde, her hair is in a ridiculously high ponytail and she’s in a deep conversation with a red head off to the side of the whole group; her words are rushing out of her and she’s a buzzing bee with excitement. Another blond is in the area, but he sits in a broad patch of sun possibly napping with an open book on his chest. Very cat-like Tim supposes. He barely pays them more than a second of thought however. No.

His focus is on the quaint beauty directly in his line of sight. She’s poised up against the giant tree trunk with a sketchbook in her lap and pencils surrounding her. Her hair hangs by her shoulders in twintails and it’s a colour so dark it seems to absorb the shade of the tree. She’s scribbling furiously on the page before her and her tongue is slightly peaking out to the side. Her forehead is creased with stress lines and her shoulders hunch slightly over her frame. She’s the vision of deep concentration and dedication and Tim would be a fool not to capture her. He’s gotten wide shots of her companions but now he wants to focus on her.

Looking through the lens of his camera he zooms in on her profile. When his camera focuses, he spots a constellation of freckles across her cheeks, barely there, almost blending in with her complexion but Tim is nothing if not hypervigilant. He goes to take another photo when a bug flies into view. It’s a ladybug. It lands precariously on the tip of her nose and it’s just the thing that breaks her out of her work-induced trance. Tim is watching her now, long forgetting to click the shutter. Her eyes cross as she stares intently at the black-spotted creature and its presence seems to amuse her. She’s giggling to herself, as if sharing an inside joke with the bug and reaches a slim finger to swipe the insect gently from her nose. She inspects it and smiles a smile so soft that not even a feather could compare. He feels like an intruder. More so than one who takes pictures of cute strangers in public.

Coming back to his senses, he takes another picture, the final picture, and lowers the camera from his face. He looks back at his temporary muse and finds that she is already looking at him. Her head tilts in confusion. Apprehension. Possibly a bit of fear. Which is valid given that Tim was pointing a camera at her from across the public park. What should he do though to quell her fears?

He felt his face lift into a grin; he didn’t need to look at himself to know it was awkward and forced. A shrug of his shoulders and a flimsy wave of the camera in his hand was the only thing he did. Before he could begin to stumble over himself in apology, however, she surprised him. With a cautious hunch, her shoulders brought up to her ears, and an embarrassed smile to match his own, she slowly flips her sketchbook around and he comes face to face with, well, his face. It was a portrait of him. She had drawn a portrait of him. And she was showing him. Feeling embolden, he flips his camera to show her the screen but she’s too far away. He gets up on unsteady legs, cramped from his uncomfortable position, and begins a slow stride towards her. She meets him in the middle.

“Hi.” He barely speaks those words. They’re more like an exhale or a sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind the drawing.” Her voice is high and light. Like a spring breeze. She’s daintily waving at him and he sees that her fingers are rough, and calloused. Unexpected but he finds it rather charming. Before he could get another word in, she’s off like an engine. “I just saw you there, and you had your camera so I figured you were taking pictures of us and thought that if you were then you wouldn’t mind me sketching you in kind but I should have asked and I’m sorry for breaching your privacy—”

“Wait, slow down.” He fears that if he hadn’t interrupted her when he did she would run out of oxygen. Did she even breathe during her spiel? A voice in his head, that sounds like Cass, utters a soft ‘pot, kettle’ and okay, he sees a lot of himself in her mile-a-minute style of speaking.

“No need to apologize. I’m flattered, truly. You were right, I was taking pictures of you. And your friends!” he hastily adds that last part. He turns his camera so the display screen faces her and he feels himself hold his breath in anticipation.

A blush rises to her cheeks, red like the ladybug that interrupted her. He quite likes that colour on her. His eyes drift to the sketch and he’s further impressed by her skill. She has an eye for detail. He notices a bird in the background. It’s a robin. That piques his interest and lights a flicker of fear within him.

“May I ask,” he begins slowly, unsure of what that little addition could mean. Did she know? How could she? Was his identity compromised?

“Why did you draw a robin in the background? It’s lovely but I’m curious,” he finishes. He’s going to play dumb until he has more information. She seems taken off guard by the question and raises her shoulders to her ears again in an embarrassed hunch.

“Well,” she starts, but she seems unsure and the words die on her tongue. She tries again.

“I just saw it fly by and then it landed behind you. So I thought ‘why not?’ and drew it. It seemed fitting.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye and now he felt kind of felt like a jerk for baselessly accusing some random girl. Of course it was just a coincidence. This bat-paranoia was going to be the end of him one day. It’s by sheer miracles and luck why it hasn’t already.

“Oh, no worries. It just surprised me because it’s my favourite bird.” Right. Lie to the pretty French girl. But what else could he do? Tell her the truth?

“Then it’s a cool coincidence, huh?” She seems encouraged by that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, pure luck on your part.”

“What?” She seems more startled at that than Tim thinks she should be but before he can think deeper into it she speaks again and he would be a fool to not give her his undivided attention.

“Why did you take a picture of me with the ladybug? If you don’t mind me asking.” That stumps him because, to be honest, he does not know why himself. It just felt right. So he tells her as such.

“Well that would be another coincidence because ladybugs are my favourite insects.” She gives him a full smile alongside that statement and the brilliance of it almost blinds him. He wants to capture that smile for eternity.

The thought strikes him. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows by the Friday of next week he’ll be flying back to Gotham where it’s business as usual and Red Robin won’t have time for commitments and puppy love. But right now? Right now Tim Drake is on vacation with a week and half left and all the time in the world to entertain the idea of a spring romance. Making the decision, he goes for it and takes the chance.

“I was getting a bit hungry. Do you know anywhere that’s good to eat at?” It’s an offer, open to interpretation. If she just lists some place, he knows where her interests lay. If she offers to escort him somewhere, then she’s taken the bait for exactly what it is, an invitation for more; whatever more is. He hopes she takes the bait.

“Yes I do actually! My parents own a bakery just outside the park.” Her enthusiasm is uplifting and the offer of a place so personal is a good sign in Tim’s book. “Let me show the way, and I could join you if you would like.”

“Perfect. That’s wonderful. It will be my treat since you’re going out of your way on my account.”

“Nonsense. Like I said, it’s my parents’ bakery. They’ll be more than happy to give some complimentary snacks.” She loops her arm around his and begins to drag him to the park gate. She’s strong and her grip is firm and Tim feels lightheaded at the ease with which she pulls him. He can’t help but be swept up in the tides that is this girl.

“I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.” He offers his name, something he should have done at the beginning.

She looks back at him over her shoulder and he’s caught up in the oceans of her eyes. They’re alight with joy.

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

They’re almost by the bakery now, he can smell the fresh baked goods from here, and he can’t wait to sit down and get to know this girl better. Maybe get her number by the end of their lunch.

Yeah. Tim was having a wonderful day.

#timari #timinette #maribat #ml x dc #family-friendly content #who would have thought #tumblr dont fucking try me

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

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Virtual Sleepover

Read Virtual Sleepover on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 4 - Internet Friends

Quarantine had been rough at Wayne Manor, but for Tim Drake, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a bright light through it all. Tim was getting ahead of himself, though. The story of Marinette Dupain-Cheng started on March 20th, 2020. Panic over coronavirus was sweeping the nation. Bruce had gathered all of the members of the Wayne family into the dining room to explain the new rules of the house. No one was to go in or out. Groceries would be delivered to the house. There would be no superhero outings for at least two weeks. Tim didn't think his family would be able to survive, trapped in a house together.

So to preserve his sanity, Tim turned to the internet. There were hundreds of cold cases that he had put on the backburner and hundreds of forums and websites dedicated to solving cold cases. Tim turned to the most popular website and started dumping information, hoping for someone to show up and work through it with him. That's how Tim met Marinette. @MarinetteDC showed up on his page with a friend request, a wide range of technical knowledge about textiles and designs, and about seven different theories on a murder case Tim considered all but unsolvable. Her sleep schedule was just as chaotic as Tim's and she also drank a near-inhuman amount of coffee. Marinette Dupain-Cheng enthralled Tim. And when the chaos of his house threatened to make Tim lose his mind, Marinette became his lifeline.

"Can you hear me?"

Tim nodded. "Yep!"

"Nice!" cheered Marinette. Tim relished the opportunity to see her face, even if it was through a zoom call. "So what do we want to do first? I don't have class until Monday, so we have the whole weekend ahead of us."

"I think we should start with the iconic sleepover classic: truth or dare," suggested Tim.

"Alright. Truth or dare, Tim?"

"Dare." Tim was confident in his abilities to pull off any stunt she might come up with. However, his confidence started to fade as he watched a devious look grow on her face.

"I dare you to bake a batch of cookies - any kind of cookies you want - without using a recipe."

Tim blinked, trying to recall the last time he had baked. Besides a few times helping Alfred out in the kitchen, Tim wasn't certain that he had ever used the Wayne Manor kitchen for anything other than brewing coffee and heating frozen pizzas. "Could I have a new dare?"

Marinette shook her head, the grin on her face demonstrating exactly how much fun she was having, watching the panic in Tim's eyes. "I'll give you one hint on how to make them, but only one, so use it wisely."

Tim groaned, unplugging his laptop from its charger so he could move it to the kitchen. "I'm not actually certain I know all of the ingredients in cookies. Or how long you bake them for. I feel like an hour is probably too long, but I feel like half an hour might not be enough time."

On the other side of the screen, Marinette tried to stifle her giggles but was unable to keep them all in. "No offense Tim, but this is going to be a disaster. I can't wait."

Tim let out another groan. "Must you torture me?"

"How about you keep the laptop camera pointed towards the oven, that way I can tell you once something starts to burn?" Marinette joked.

Tim knew that she was teasing, but honestly, he knew he could use all the help he could get. Still, he wanted to preserve at least a little of his dignity. "Very funny," Tim said sarcastically, setting the laptop down on the kitchen counter.

"Start with ingredients," Marinette advised.

"What all goes into a chocolate chip cookie..?" mused Tim. He got out the flour, white and brown sugar, eggs, butter, vanilla extract, and three different types of chocolate chips that Alfred kept stocked.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

Tim cast a wary gaze upon his ingredients. It didn't seem like enough, but at the same time he couldn't figure out what he was missing. Tim sighed. "I'm ready to use my hint. Tell me what I forgot."

"You forgot to get out the salt, and more importantly, the baking soda," advised Marinette.

"Can I have a second hint?" asked Tim as he gathered his two missing ingredients.

"That depends on what you're asking," teased Marinette.

"I'm going to start listing measurements, and you tell me if it's too much or not enough."

Marinette pretended to think it over before replying, "I'll do it, but only because I want the cookies to come out edible, not because we're friends or anything like that. There are no friends in the Dupain-Cheng kitchen," said Marinette, her voice filled with faux seriousness.

"Lucky for me, these cookies are being made in the Wayne kitchen, and we're all very nice here, and we don't let Tim burn his cookies."

Marinette giggled. "You have a point there," she acquiesced. "Start listing your measurements."

Tim grabbed the measuring cup and starting approximating. "Two cups flour?"

"That will make about five dozen cookies."

"One cup of each type of sugar?"

Marinette shook her head. "You'll want a 3/4 cup of each."

The rest of the measuring process proceeded smoothly, with Tim guessing measurements of fluctuating accuracy (he correctly guessed that he would need two eggs, but his guess of a half-cup of baking soda led to Marinette questioning whether he had ever been in a kitchen before). Once Tim got the cookie dough mixed, spooned out onto a tray, and put in the oven, they resumed their game of truth-or-dare.

"Your turn, Marinette. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Tim tried to think of a good question to ask. "Since you've now seen how abysmal I am in the kitchen, I want to know one thing that you're terrible at."

Marinette scrunched up her brow. "It's nowhere near as bad as you're inability to crack an egg-"

Tim winced a little, remembering the painstaking process of digging out fragments of eggshell after he completely shattered it in his attempts to crack it.

"-But I have really bad depth perception. I trip over every little crack in the sidewalk. I'm probably the clumsiest person you'll ever meet."

Tim chuckled. "And here I thought you were perfect."

Marinette grinned. "Almost perfect. Truth or dare?"

"I'll pick truth this time, and hopefully avoid being humiliated again."

"I'll go easy on you this round. When was the last time you lied, and what was it about?"

Tim combed back through his memory of the past week, trying to pick out the last time he lied. "I think it was yesterday morning. Dick asked me if the coffee I was drinking was my first coffee of the day. I said yes, but really I hadn't slept that night so I just decided to arbitrarily count my start of the day at the time I would have woken up had I actually gone to sleep."

"So how many coffee's had you had yesterday?"

Tim shrugged. "Since midnight? Probably three or four. I've gotten away with a lot more coffee since I modified the Keurig in my room to stop making so much noise."

"I'm lucky," said Marinette. "My parents sleep so far away from me that they can't hear my Keurig."

"Truth or dare?" asked Tim, continuing the game.

"Truth."

"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done because you had a crush on someone?"

Marinette flushed red, and Tim immediately knew that this was going to be a good story. "Once I accidentally sent a text to my crush so I stolehisphoneanddeletedthetext." Marinette rushed the last few words, so fast that Tim couldn't quite make them out.

"What was that?"

"I stole his phone and deleted the text before he could read it. In my defense, I made a lot of questionable decisions at that age."

Tim burst out laughing. "How old were you?"

"I was thirteen," admitted Marinette.

Tim couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity of her claims. "You couldn't have asked him to borrow his phone and deleted it then?"

"I was in panic mode. It was between steal his phone or destroy his phone."

"Those were your two options?!" exclaimed Tim.

Marinette blushed even more furiously. "It's your turn. Don't expect me to go easy on you this round. Truth or dare?"

Tim kept up the trend. "Truth."

"What was the worst thing you did at thirteen?"

Tim thought back to his days as Robin, and the many, many stories he could tell. In the end, he settled on one that Jason still brought up when he needed leverage over Tim. "It's not as bad as phone thievery, but it's still a pretty funny story, looking back on it. You know how I have two older brothers, right?"

"Dick and Jason," Marinette confirmed.

"Well, one night I managed to convince Dick to let me drive Bruce's favorite car. Now, keep in mind, I had never actually driven a car before. Surprisingly, I wasn't that bad at driving. I made it home without incident - that is, until I tried to park the car back in the garage and accidentally crashed into Jason's motorcycle. For years after that, Jason used the threat of telling Bruce about my little car crash to keep me in line."

Marinette snorted. "You think that borrowing a phone to delete a text message is worse than borrowing and crashing a car?"

Tim shrugged. "It's a matter of opinion. Truth or dare?"

With a roll of her eyes, Marinette said, "Truth."

"What's one thing you would never tell me?" It was the sort of question that could only be asked during a game of truth or dare. In Tim's opinion, it was this sort of question that made the game worth playing.

Marinette pouted. "I don't like that question."

"Too bad. The rules of truth or dare state that you have to answer it."

"Fine." Marinette looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Just as she turned back to face her laptop, her face lit up. It was evident that she had an answer. "Usually I let people learn from their mistakes in the kitchen. However, I will now tell you - because I have to - that your cookies have been in the oven for too long. They're going to start burning if you don't take them out soon."

Tim jumped up to get his cookies out of the oven. They looked a little burnt, brown rather than the golden-brown that Alfred would make, but they still looked edible. "I'll accept your answer, but only because you saved my cookies."

"Now that your cookies are done, do you want to finish up our game of truth or dare?"

"One last question," decided Tim. "And I'll pick truth, to make it easy for you."

"What's the biggest secret that you've currently keeping from your family?"

After Tim's last question, he had expected Marinette to follow it up with an invasive question. Luckily, her question had a very simple answer.

"Easy question - my friendship with you."

Marinette looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Most of my friendships begin through the connections they have to my family. Because of that, I've never really had serious friendships that my family wasn't actively involved in."

"It's not because you're ashamed of me, right?" Marinette sounded unsure of herself. Insecurity was a side of her that Tim had never seen before.

"Of course not," Tim assured her. "You're the best friend I could have ever asked for, Marinette."

"Good, because you're not getting rid of me that easy. I still have a lot to teach you about baking. I think we might try cupcakes at our next sleepover."

Tim laughed. "We'll see about that." He had no doubts that there would be sleepovers to come, and shenanigans involving baked goods to go along with them.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #MaribatMarch2021 #timari #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Tim Drake #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

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cetaceans-pls · 2 years

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9-1-1, I’m The Emergency

Batfam | Dick, Jason, Alfred, Assorted Gothamites

A spell gone wrong leave Jason and Dick stranded and alone in the middle of the night down by the docks.

A daisy-chain of well-meaning Gothamites fumble and stumble their way into getting them home in one piece.

@sparkypantaloons I thought I was on time for your prompt of ‘ambulance’, and turns out I somehow blanked out the entirety of November 10th.... Nevertheless, please enjoy!

Dick comes to with a splitting headache, and that queasiness in the gut that usually implies that a migraine’s coming for you after a night of inebriation spent forgetting that you’re a fully adult male who’s cracked 30.

The thing is, Dick doesn’t remember drinking, not in a ‘went so hard it all blacked out’ kind of way, more in a ‘I was definitely in the middle of hot pursuit of a rogue magician across the wilds of Gotham’s rooftops and what the hell happened then’ kind of way. He keeps his eyes closed and his breathing even, trying to figure out where he is and if he’s in any danger.

There’s no sound of a fight, or any indication that he’s going to wake up to a tense, terrible situation. There’s that sharp Gotham breeze coming through, bringing with it too-early frost and the stained leather smell that pervades the docks regardless of the number of fancy microbreweries that have popped up. Dick cracks one eye open and quietly surveys his surroundings, and yeah, it’s just a small back alley. A quick glance around at storefronts and the colours of the brick lets him know that he’s behind the fancy butchery that sells ‘organic rabbit’ that they source by lowkey poaching in the woods behind the Manor. Damian’s been campaigning to have them shut down, and by this point every single one of them’s driven down to the area to let the little guy stomp up and down the boulevard handing out flyers about how terrible the butcher’s practices are.

Safe, ish. No villain worth their salt would attempt an assault in such an uncool location. Say what you will about the rogues here, and there’s a lot of truly unflattering things you could come up with, but there’s no doubt the whole damn lot of them are stuffed more full of flair than they are of sense.

Dick carefully sits up, hand going to his back to reach for his staff so he can get on with it and look for Jason who’d gone out with him that night, and instead finds himself looking at his hand.

It’s a dead giveaway that something’s incredibly wrong. There’s not a lot of hand for quite a lot of man. Come to think of it, the ground looks awful close for a man who’s almost 6 foot sitting up.

“Not again,” he groans, and his voice comes off high and uncommonly sweet.

How is time such an immoveable concept everywhere but here?! Bruce and Tim have been zapped into magic on previous occasions by Circe, who comes round maybe twice a decade to cause trouble and magic people, but the guy they were going after on behalf of Zatanna was just supposed to be some two-bit guy who was using magic to give him an edge at horse racing.

No one ever said he could turn back time, which seems like an enormous oversight.

A groan distracts him from his irritated thoughts, and a moment later young, young Jason, the youngest Dick’s ever seen him, pops out from behind a garbage can, absolutely swamped in his leather jacket.

Dick feels slightly hysterical laughter try to push its way up and out of his throat; something about seeing Jason this small, face round and hair jet-black, has Dick wanting to tuck him under his arm and growl at anybody who comes within a hundred yards of them.

Oh, shit, this must be the Bruce Instinct. See some grubby kid in some dark alley somewhere and you just go abso-fucking-lutely feral.

“You all right, Jaybird?”

Jason takes one look at him, and then rubs his face with a (chubby! little!) hand. “Guess it was only a matter of time before the rest of us got fucked like this, huh. Magic is just the fucking worst.”

Seeing a cherubic face, and cherubic really is the best way to describe how round and red-cheeked Jason is in this sharp autumn night, swearing like there’s no tomorrow is quite a treat. “The next time the magicians ask us for help, I swear I’m going to ask for a deposit-”

Dick doesn’t get to get into what it is he’s going to ask a deposit for, because the backdoor to the butcher’s opens up and a young man ambles out holding his breath and a bag of gently leaking trash. He doesn’t see them at first, because it’s a dark alley and they’re both really really good at going very, very still, but their faces are bare (thank fuck for helmets and masks that couldn’t keep up with their size change, oh my god) and it’s that Bruce Instinct that is maybe inherent in a lot of Gothamites;

See a small kid in an alley and just go a little bit feral. The man instantly drops the trash, rushing towards them all in a tizzy, hands up and swinging like he’s torn between pulling them to tuck under each arm and holding them up and away to show he’s no threat. “Hey, kids,” the guys says, and oh, man, he’s young. Younger than Tim, probably not old enough to drink yet, even. There’s the general scruffiness about the chin of a young man doing his best to grow a beard but his body plainly refusing to co-operate, and his thick, curly hair’s doing the greasy-lanky thing that happens at the intersection of hormonal imbalance and the youthful optimism of believing whole-heartedly that you’re going to look good while your hair grows out.

Jason and Dick just stare at him with twin unblinking stares, which has him looking even more uncomfortable. “Shit, uhm. Are you lost? Are you hurt? Where are your parents, uh, buddy?”

Jason and Dick turn to look at each other, because wow. It’s rarely been so clear that someone grew up without any siblings, adopted or elsewise.

Dick decides to take the lead on this one, because the poor kid’s probably not going to deal well with adult-Jasons stuffed into wee-Jason Jason. He turns back to the man, and lets his lower lip quiver violently. The body, luckily, remembers, and his eyes start filling up at an alarming rate. “W-w-w-where’s my daddyyyyy!” he wails, tears rolling down his cheeks, face held to the exact right angle so that the yellow street lamps highlight just how dramatically he’s weeping. “M-m-me and m-m-m-my brother c-can’t find him!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he hears Jason muttering under his breath, but Dick’s dedicating himself to this role. It’s hard for them to have just run away, with their clothes twelve sizes too big and their kit far, far too heavy for them to pick up. All they have is this, but Dick’s pretty good at this.

“I just wanna go ho-o-o-o-o-me,” Dick cries loudly, and is a little worried he’s laying it on too thick. He hadn’t exactly had the most normal of upbringings, and in a travelling circus no one has time for tantrums so doesn’t have the most experience with all of this. Jason’s rough-living on the streets wouldn’t be helpful, either, when what they’re aiming to portray is ‘helpless’ and ‘incompetent’ with a side of ‘spoiled’.

The guy looks like he’s on the verge of tears too. “I’m the closing shift, Chrissie should’ve been here and she would know what to do, she has three sisters, but all you got is me, and-”

Oh, no, oh no, oh, Dick didn’t mean to drive the poor kid into a panic attack. He thinks about going cold turkey, pausing the tears on demand, but that might freak the boy out even more.

Luckily, Jason’s already determined that this is a situation that needs salvaging, and before Dick could think about his next steps Jason’s already at the guy’s elbow, tugging on his sleeve authoritatively.

“Hey, mister, it’s okay. My brother’s just kinda a crybaby. Can we borrow your phone to call our dad?”

“My phone!” the man says, face lighting up. “I have my phone!”

They’ll just call the specific number for when they need an Agent A pickup, pretend that their grandpa is the one coming to fetch, and this’ll be a very minor blight on a life full of big ones. Dick winks at Jason from behind the hands rubbing his face, and Jason just rolls his eyes at him.

Everything could’ve gone so well, could’ve gone down so easy, if Not-Beard hadn’t pulled out his phone like he’s pulling out a miracle, and immediately dialed 9-1-1.

The call operator was almost as startled as they were, really. It had started out so regular.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello, hey, hi. Uh, first time calling this number, so, uhm, what should I do?”

Chartreuse very professionally doesn’t sigh. “Your name, your location, and your emergency sir.”

“Hi! I’m Miguel, I’m at Iberico Butchers’ at, uhm, 12th and Merryweather. The place that that Wayne kid handcuffed himself to last week in protest of, uhm, bunnies. I was closing down for the night, and I found two kids, and they’re crying, and I don’t know what to do. Please help?”

Well. An interesting case where no one is currently getting hurt. It’s about as good as good gets for Char. “Stay calm, sir,” she says, and it’s a warmer, calmer tone. “Are the children all right? Are they hurt?”

“One of them keeps crying, and I, I think he has a lisp? If that’s a concern? The other one’s fine, I think. Should I get them indoors, or something? I can grab them some jerky.”

“Not unless a hurricane’s coming that I don’t know of, sir.” Char looks around, and the other night staff aren’t handling calls either. It’s a slow night, and she can spend a little more time on this than is reasonable. “Could you put me on speaker, so that I can get some information from them, sir?”

“Oh, just Miguel is fine, ma’am, thanks for helping out. Give me a sec-”

There’s a click, and she assumes she’s been put through. “Hey, sweetheart,” she says the way she says it when little Ruby’s sick with whatever the hell it is is going through daycare this week. “Me and Miguel are here to help you. Can I get your name?”

There’s a scuffle and people-moving-around noises, before a polite little voice pipes up. “Hi! I’m Richard, and I’m,” a pause, “8 years old?”

“Hi Richard,” she says, struggling to not be charmed by an 8-year-old apparently struggling to count to 8. It’s a testament to the failure of the education system, please focus. “How about you give me a number to contact your parents, yeah? Then I can send a police officer to come pick you up, and we’ll get you home, how about that?”

“All cops are p-” goes another young voice before it gets abruptly cut off, and then Richard’s back on again sounding breathless.

“Sorry!” he says cheerfully, “I fell on my brother. Also, my dad says I should never get into a car with a policeman. Can I just hang up and call my daddy, please?”

Chartreuse can hardly blame the kid for the good amount of caution he’s taking vs. GCPD, and frankly she’d rather call for an Uber than risk this, but the call’s being recorded and she’s not being paid just a little above minimum wage to go her own way. “No can do, kiddo, you’re my responsibility now.” She checks the roster for the night shift, and spots a familiar name. “Hey, Richard, how about this. How about, I call my friend Glenn, and he’ll go over for a wellness check. If you’re doing okay, he’ll give you a ride home with his ambulance. If you’re really good, he’ll even let you blast the siren.”

There’s a whispered conversation, quiet and furtive except for Miguel’s voice in the background going “I don’t know, this Glenn guy sounds pretty nice, I can’t take you both home on my bicycle.”

They spend a few moments more arguing, until the other kid comes through. “I’m Jay,” this one says. “Glenn’s an actual nice guy? He’s not going to be an as-, a butthole to me and Richie and Miguel?”

“Cross my heart, Jay,” she says. “You’ll love him, he’s six foot six and gives hugs like you’d imagine a bear gives hugs. And if he’s mean to you, I’ll beat him up myself. He’s married to my sister, so if he’s naughty she’ll really let him have it. Sound good to you, little guy?”

This time, there’s no heated discussion. “Yes please, miss. Thank you.”

Chartreuse breaks into laughter, and waves off Sam sending her a funny look from the other cubicle. “Tell him Char says hi, okay Jay?”

“I’ll remember, miss, promise.”

Glenn’s been a paramedic for a good long while, and has seen all sorts of injuries and characters.

Somehow, pulling up in a back alley to a strange threesome of two tiny big-eyed boys and one nervous looking teen with spots on his chin warring with where a not-beard is coming in ranks near the top of the weirdness.

There’s something deeply unnerving about thow steady the stares are from the two kids, thinks Glenn. It’s definitely like something from one of those movies, the ones where a family adopts a kid with dark hair and big eyes and then she kills them in the night because she’s secretly 42, or something.

“Hey, guys,” he says, sticking his head out the window. “I’m Glenn. Someone in need of a wellness check?”

The kids both give him really cute salutes, and okay, this is how all those families got suckered into picking the demon kids. Sorry, Ruby, daddy might not make it tonight.

(It’s like some sort of weird instinct, that if you see a kid lost and scared in an alley in Gotham, this spectacular shithole, you have to protect them, tug them behind your back and keep ‘em safe, you just gotta.

Wonder if other cities have the gut feeling too, huh.)

He bangs the outside of his door. “All in then, kids. Which one’s Richard and which one’s Jay?

“I’m Jay and I call shotgun,” the shorter boy calls out, already running for the passenger’s side door.

“I’m Richard, and I’m his brother,” the taller one says, trotting along after his brother.

“I’m Miguel,” the remaining boy says, looking as different to the other two as night and day, but equally as sweet. “Uhm. I don’t have any brothers.”

(Wow, you become a dad one time, and suddenly anyone under the age of 21 is fair game, holy crap-)

Glenn looks at his watch. “Awful late at night to be cycling home, Miguel.”

The boy goes a little red. “The closing shift pays extra,” he says extra quiet, shuffling his feet.

“Kid, don’t I know it.” After all, there’s a reason why Glenn’s out here driving this thing at half past midnight when there’s a sleep-deprived missus and a baby out there. “C’mon, I’ll lay some paper down and you can ride in the back with your bike. I’ll drive you home, okay?”

Miguel looks a little unsure, but then Jay and Richard stick their head out the window, smooshing Glenn to the side. “C’mon, Miguel, c’mon, c’mon, let’s go!”

That’s convincing enough to have Miguel to laugh and agree, and after Glenn helps him set up in the back and they all squish together four in a row in the front, they agree:

Get the (little) kids sent home first, then Miguel.

It’s a great plan, but it’s a surprise to half the ambulance, yeah, when ‘home’ for the boys turns out to be-

Alfred opens the door, and is faced with too-young Master Richard holding the hand of of a boy who is quite literally shaking in his boots. Too-young Master Jason, meanwhile, is having a great time sitting on the shoulder of a giant of a man, legs kicking out against the paramedic uniform.

“Hi grandpa!” they both chirp, and it’s about all the context Alfred needs to just go a little crazy.

“Boys!” he says, admonishing and every inch the concerned grandparent. “Oh, we’ve been so worried. Your poor dad is combing the streets looking for you.” He opens his arms, and both boys barrel into him, pressed up close enough for a 10-word mission brief and a quick check that outside of this surprise de-aging, they’re all right, they’re fine.

Alfred holds both boys close to his body, instinct wormed in right into the bone after decades of dealing with Master Bruce. He looks at their hapless rescuers gravely. “I cannot thank you both enough, misters-?”

The big paramedic laughs. “I’m Glenn, and I’m just doing my job, man.”

The young man’s voice cracks a little but everyone’s too polite to say anything. “I’m Miguel, and I’m sorry I couldn’t drive them back, I don’t even have a car.”

“You were nice!” Jason pipes up from Alfred’s side. “Didn’t even complain when Richie was all gross and crying and snot-nosed!”

The boy gives them a tremulous smile. “He wasn’t that gross,” Miguel says weakly.

“He was very gross,” Jason says gravely, and oh, Jason always was such a loving handful of a child. Alfred tuts, and gently baps the back of his head.

“Nevertheless, thank you to you both. I will call my nephew to tell him his children have been found. Serves him right for planning an impromptu trick-or-treat in the middle of November. Could I tempt you with a quick meal? A snack perhaps?”

Glenn shakes his head, looking spectacularly cheerful for the hour of the night. “I gotta get Miguel here home, and then head back to the hospital. They’re gonna have my head if I don’t get back to the hospital soon, I’m pushing my luck as is.”

“Oh, sir, I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Alfred says with absolute, unshakeable confidence.

“If you say so,” Glenn says, grinning. He drops to a crouch, almost level with Jason and Dick. “You two don’t go running off on your dad again, okay? Don’t be stressing your grandpa out like that.” He holds his hands up, and gets a Hi-5 from each of them. “Good boys.”

“Your grandkids are really cute,” Miguel says to Alfred, and he’s awkward but he’s smiling like he can’t help it, and Alfred almost wants to have him take a seat and make him some waffles with a mug of tea done right for him.

“They are a handful, but they are wonderful. Thank you both again for all your help tonight. Please, if you ever need help with anything, Wayne Manor will always be here to assist you.”

Miguel and Glenn look at each other, bonded over the course of this weird, weird night, and they both just smile back at Alfred. “Don’t worry ‘bout it man, we’re just glad to help. Have a good night now, okay?” Glenn says, making his way down the front steps. Miguel nods next to him, and shyly waves at the boys as he follows after.

They both stick their heads out the ambulance to wave their goodbyes, and then ambulance slips off, into the quiet dark.

Alfred, Jason, and Dick remain unmoving on the doorstep.

“Busy night, sirs?”

“Pretty busy,” Dick says, half laughing where he’s slumped into Alfred’s side. “Given that we woke up after getting knocked out by magic in an alley, though, it turned into a pretty decent night.”

Jason thunks his forehead against Alfred’s other side. “Being a kid sucks. I’m so sleepy.” The thunk has turned into a nuzzle. “The guys were nice, though. And some lady called Char, from when Miguel called 911.”

“I’m eager to hear more about what happened, sirs,” Alfred says quietly, brushing through their hair. “But I think I must insist on bedtime, and we’ll figure out all the rest of it in the morning.

And if for the next few years things just persistently go calmly, gently well for Glenn and Char and Miguel and even wee baby Ruby, well.

The most powerful magic in the world might damn well be Alfred, when he finds himself indebted for services rendered to his charges (full-sized or not).

a/n: sparky i only just realised that you request your au for remembrance day, but i whole ass forgot that today was the 11th, so please bear with me. a massive deadline got shifted on me and i’m in shambles, so the stories are gonna be even more chaotic than usual, somehow :’)

#batfam #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Alfred Pennyworth #nanowhalemore #whale writing #idk why this is what came to mind when i was thinking about what to do re: ambulances #and if i was less tired i would be really into expanding on the new lads #but i am indeed tired and behind on work #nov21 shaping up to be a mess what else is new lads

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batarella · 3 years

Text

3 birds 1 stone - BLUE

From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

WORDS: 7785 WARNINGS: Sexual Content

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

Dick:

It was concerning how at the moment he stepped into the narrow elevator, he wasn’t the least bit surprised at the pile of animal shit at the corner. It wasn’t until the doors closed when he noticed it, or rather his nose did, and he had to clog his nostrils just so he doesn’t pass out on the floor.

“Gar!?” he yelled just as the doors opened. No one was there, save for Raven with a book sitting at the couch. She didn’t glance at him. “Gar, I swear if you took a shit in the elevato-“

“That wasn’t me!”

Gar’s voice came from the kitchen, panting and occupied with something unruly. Then he heard plates falling to the floor, breaking, then there was a whimper. Not one that came from a human.

“Then who was it!?”

His question was soon answered, when a dog, a brown-furred mutt, sprinted out into the living room with a strip of bacon lodged in its teeth. “Gar!”

“I told you!”

Gar came out of the kitchen with a leash that had been ripped. “It wasn’t me!”

“You brought a dog into the tower?!”

“It was hungry!”

The mutt had finished off the bacon and headed straight for Raven’s lap. She gave it a scratch under its ear.

“Not on the couch,” Dick said.

“But Dick-“

“You’re not allowed on the couch either,” he told Gar. The boy murmured something Dick couldn’t hear, and after a second, no longer was he a boy but a green parrot. It squealed against Dick’s ear before it flew to Raven’s book.

“Jesus-“ he rubbed his ear. “I’m not in the mood.”

“SQUAWK-,” the parrot said. “WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?”

Having some coherent answer to that would only cement it as some grueling reminder. Hell, even thinking about it hurts more than the coward’s way out of pretending the past year never even happened. But then again, here he was, back in the Titan’s Tower to escape from the love of his life he could never be with and force himself into this infernal damnation of having forever to get over her. Here. Thousands of miles away. Where he’d only have his thoughts to battle and nothing else.

But all he said was: “Nothing.”

Dick should have told her, at least. Given her that kind of closure instead of his current disappearing act without so much as a note or a text or even a notice memo at the manor’s announcement board, which Alfred insisted with there being eight kids around.

But being away will be good. For her. For him. The first step to moving on. And with that, cutting all ties. Make it hurt less for both of them.

Maybe not all ties. He’ll have to go back to Gotham soon enough. But at least he was trying something. Not like the past five, six, seven years. God, has it really been that long?

She was probably over at Tim’s office, or Jason’s apartment doing whatever. Thinking about it won't do him any good. Doesn’t mean he subconsciously won’t.

It was apparent, and out into full consciousness, when he pulled out his phone and saw her name in five missed calls, with voice messages she’s left behind. A whole lot of minutes of them, too, it seems. She’d called while he was on the plane.

He could listen to them. Hear her voice one last time. Let his mind trail away. God, he was pathetic.

Dick put it up to his ear, his other hand stuffed to his pockets as he went out to the tower’s highest balcony so at least the air wasn’t so stuffy and he wouldn’t choke so much.

He wasn’t even nervous when he heard her speak. “Hey, Dick.”

A plane. A helicopter. Some folks over at the apartment building nearby partying it out. At least he’d have something to look at. He was exhausted, too. It was eight am over at Gotham. Shouldn’t have taken the overnight flight.

“You weren’t at the manor. I tried calling there first. I wanted to see you. Call me when you get this?”

He might. After he listens to the four other messages she’d left behind.

“Hey. I know it’s only been an hour. But please call me.”

Another one.

“Dick, where are you? I hope you didn’t change your phone. or I’ll look stupid leaving all these messages behind, which I’m not about to stop doing. Call me. Please. No one knows where you are but no one’s panicking either. It’s worrying me.”

Next one. From another hour after. He’d been gone a little over ten hours since he left. If Bruce didn’t have a tracker on him, they’d have called the police by now. But he highly doubted Bruce would take the time to announce his little trip to the West Coast to everyone in the house.

“Dick, if this is you ignoring me, you’re doing a hell of a good job at it. Did I do something?”

He heard her huff over the phone. No one else seemed to be around her.

“Please, I just wanna talk. Call me.”

The last one. Sent just four hours ago, which meant she’d been awake at four in the morning.

And, on top of that, the last one was five whole minutes long.

A call to tell her she was dating Tim again? Explaining how there are no hard feelings? Catch a movie sometime? An ass of him to think she’d be that cruel, but he was jetlagged and exhausted and the smell of dog shit still hadn’t left, which could be explained because that mutt had made a home just a few feet away from where he stood.

Dick played the message despite all that. Even if she called to tell him she’s getting married. He’d answer it.

“Dick…”

He could hear the rain, sheets shuffling under her feet.

“I’m sorry…” she said. “I… I probably took too long… I guess, if you’re ignoring me, you still deserve to know. I hope you get this message. I’ll tell you now, I guess. So you won't have to respond if you don’t want to.”

Tears. He could hear her wipe them off her skin.

“I kept you waiting for… I wanna say months but it’s a lot longer than that. Years… God, and I didn’t even see it… I took too long trying to figure this all out for myself, and you just kept waiting for me. No one should be worth waiting for that long.”

He was laughing as if it were one of her god-awful jokes. Funnily enough, it was worth it. Even when it sent him nowhere in the end. All that waiting was worth it. Somehow.

“Which is why I don’t blame you. Because you shouldn’t have taken this long. I thought even if I took another few weeks before I’d have enough courage to finally ask you to be mine, you’d still be there waiting for me. Selfish as it is, but I guess that’s your fault, too. Spoiling me and whatnot. Now my expectations for men are out of hand. Sorry.”

She even fucking laughed all the while he could hear her biting back her sobs. If he were there, he’d hold her by the shoulders and squeeze the fucking sense back into her and tell her yes, I did wait for you, and I’d wait for you for a hundred more years if I had to but I know you love someone else and-

Wait.

Backtrack.

What the hell did she just say!?

“I mean, I’m…” she continued, completely ignoring his panic. Was there a rewind on this thing??? “The past two days all I did was read your letter. Over and over again, trying to find something I could have missed. I memorized it by now. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry. I know it’s all so complicated, but I can't stop thinking that if the timing had just been good to us the past few years, all this would have been so different.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, is she actually saying she-

“I’m so sorry, Dick…” she sighed. “I kept you waiting. But even if… even if you’re not anymore, I already made up my mind. I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love yo-“

Something hit the back of his knees.

Which, unfortunately, with him not in some defensive stance, caught him in a rather vulnerable position.

And with that, Dick tumbled off his feet, almost fell off the railing, and failed to catch his phone from slipping right off his hands.

“NO!”

“DOWN BOY-SQUAWK!” Gar the parrot cried and followed the obnoxiously unruly dog running around the terrace. “SORRY, DICK!”

The dog kept running around and almost crashed to his feet twice with it being too fast even for Gar's supposedly swift wings, and if he wasn’t so frozen and horrified, watching his phone descend from almost a hundred stories above ground, he would have grabbed that mutt by the neck.

“GAR, I SWEAR TO GOD-“

“I’m sorry!” He turned back into a human and caught the dog. “It was him!”

“My fucking phone just fell over the railing!”

“Want me to go get it-“

A car alarm. He could hear it even from above. Or Gar did. Because he went to look over and caught sight of his phone breaking a car’s windshield below. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“I have to…” Dick pulled on his scalp. “I have to go call her.”

“Call who?!”

“Give me your phone!”

“I don’t have a phone!”

“Give me Raven’s phone!”

“She talks to people with her mind,” Gar twirled his finger against his temple. “She doesn’t need a phone!”

“Just get- UGH!”

He stormed back into the building. “Where the hell is everyone else!?”

“They’re all out of town!”

“So it’s just you and Raven in here?! Without adult supervision!?”

“Why do you think we got a dog into the building?!”

Said dog stuck his tongue out at him like it was just so awfully adorable.

“Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok.” He can do this. He can calm down. “I have to go back. Or call her at least.”

“You’re going back to Gotham now?!”

She said she’ll wait. But to hell with keeping her waiting. “Yes. I do. I’m going back now. As soon as I can call her and tell her I’m on my way-“

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Raven didn’t even look up from her book, legs up on the couch as seemingly relaxed as if the whole wreck of a home they lived in wasn’t a mess at all.

“Next flight to Gotham’s in an hour.” She levitated an apple to her mouth and took a bite. “And the one after that’s in two days.”

“Two days!?”

“Airline shutdown. Some strike is happening,” she pointed at the TV playing the news. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“God fucking dammit-“

“Good luck.” Raven took another bite.

Of course. Of course, this would fucking happen.

But, fuck, he didn’t know if he should just leap out the window to keep up now that everything he’s ever wished for had finally come to be. Because, to his own beliefs up in the clouds, he could probably fly with just the flap of his measly arms.

Y/N chose him.

He left for the elevator, just before Gar stopped him for leaving his wallet, then he was sprinting his way back to the airport.

You:

“I already made up my mind,” you said to your phone as if there were anyone else on the other line. As if he was there, listening to you. And that in a few seconds, he’d respond.

“I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love you, Dick.”

Quite haunting how easy it was for those words to just roll off your lips, because as much as you thought all this to be so complicated and difficult, it was the easiest thing you’ve ever had to say.

At four am, alone in your studio with all your lights off and your sheets in an unkempt mess. You stuck your knees so close to your chest, trying to conceal at least some kind of warmth against you. But even with it so easy, it didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting.

“I can't,” you stuck your palm to your forehead. “I know things are so hard between us… and this past year is just…”

You breathed, longer than you’d hoped, just to get enough air into your lungs just so you wouldn’t collapse.

“God, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore. It all just… It feels like it’s too late. Everything went so wrong between us and I can't stop but think maybe it’s the world saying we’re just not meant to be,” you swallowed. “And the scary thing is… I don’t even care.”

The blue rose you painted, staring back at you once so bright, but as the passing days of you still wondering if were brave enough to do this at all, it had dried up and was now blank, patronizing even, that maybe it just wasn’t right, even when you wanted it to be.

“I don’t care if it’s so complicated, I want you…”

On the bed, just by your feet, you locked your eyes onto Dick’s beautiful handwriting, some that had been smudged with the sweat from your hands with the paper now crumpled up after all those months of reading and rereading.

You closed your eyes.

“You sent me an awfully painful, heart-breaking letter,” you said. “This is my awfully painful, heart-breaking reply.”

‘I usually just say all this in my head. That’s when I get poetic. Sometimes I write it down. Most of the time, I try to paint them. I think of galaxies and meadows and skies and flowers and all that, metaphors as they are, but I’ll say everything I’ve got. Right now. Because you deserve to know that all those years of you thinking nothing could ever go how you wanted, that it could end being just that.

Dick:

“Hey.”

Hands on the counter, the attendant looked startled at the least.

“I need a ticket for the next flight to Gotham.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, after taking a while to look at Dick’s handsome yet frantically uneasy face. “You just missed it-“

“I know, I know, I missed the last one.” The one that left just five minutes ago because of fucking California traffic. “But I need to get on the next one. Please.”

“All flights from San Francisco after the next hour are canceled I’m afraid.”

“Any connecting flights? Anything that leaves before that?”

“Sir, I-” she stretched her fingers. “I’ll look for something.”

His fingers, tapping onto the counter until the tip of his nails started to hurt.

“The best option’s a connecting flight to Denver, then to New York.”

“New York!?”

“Then there’s the railway transits to Gotham. I can book you a ticket for that, too.”

From a seven-hour flight to a seventeen-hour trip with layovers and a crowded train.

But as soon as he heard best option he pulled out his wallet quicker than when they told him his rent was three months overdue and that if he weren’t to pay the doorman that very instant they’d evict him.

He rushed to the first plane, closed his eyes, and prayed she hadn’t said anything in her voice message too important for him to miss out on.

‘The universe, or whatever it is out there that has a say in all this, they didn’t make it easy for us at all. If they did, we would have met long before we went too far into this mess. We were friends, sure, and you have no idea how much I value our friendship.

But I guess not even that friendship’s strong enough for us to deny what’s really going on. And that’s why it’s all so hard. I can't even look at you without thinking about kissing you, or holding you, or touching you. I can't hold your hand without wanting to never pull away. I can't even be in the same room with you and not stare, even when you’re just reading a book or talking to someone else. You are… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re just as beautiful within, which is why it was so easy to love you, and so hard to keep it in.’

You:

Morning. Eleven am at that. You slept before the sun was up, at least. But you were up all night.

Nothing. Not a call, not even a text from him.

Everything shattered, and you were still half asleep. The next thing you did, and the next thing to do, was wrap yourself up with the thickest layer of your blanket and hide in the dark, even with it such a lovely day.

Another message wouldn’t be such a good idea if he still hadn’t opened the last five, which seemed highly unlikely with him gone for almost a day now.

A day. It had been a day.

But nothing on GCPD’s notices reported a missing person’s file of an utterly gorgeous, half-Romani hunk of a man in any of their websites. You called the manor, again. Still, there was nothing.

Twelve at noon. All you had for lunch was a bagel from three nights ago. It stuffed you, at least.

You sat at your dining table and stared at your phone.

If there was a moment for so much love to come crashing at once, it would all have been too great for that to be possible.

But the moment you realized it was there at all,

A few weeks ago. Steph’s birthday.

A party at the manor. It wasn’t much. Just a little get together with everyone at the parlor.

Everyone was talking, laughing, and frankly you wished you’d joined them. It looked like fun.

But instead, you were looking out the window, at the gardens white with melted snow and winds strong enough to knock the leaves out the branches. But you couldn’t hear any of that, which made it peaceful. It was the trees that danced, birds instead of planes that hovered over the sky, not a star above but perhaps it was because it was so full of clouds. It looked cold. Cold always looked so beautiful when you were looking out from the warmth of the inside.

Dick walked up to your side, just a reasonable distance away so he wouldn’t touch your shoulder, but close enough that you’d smell the jasmine from his neck.

“You’re just gonna stand out here and watch the glass fog up?”

You remembered laughing, probably at something else he’d said after that.

“It’s pretty when you look hard enough.”

And all the while, he didn’t pull your arm and drag you over at the crowd. He didn’t tell you to join them, to loosen up and have fun or have a drink or in any way stop you from what you were doing.

He just stood there and joined you, instead. Ditched his family. Didn’t even speak much.

He stood there because he wanted to. Because you staring out the window was more interesting to him than a whole crowd of kids doing whatever.

When he balled up his fist, covered it with his sleeve, and wiped the window right in front of you to rid it from the fog so you could see the gardens clearer, you knew you loved him.

Such a small act that was, but it was the finality of everything else that built up to that moment.

Then, you remembered what you told him last night, in a voice message that lasted way too long and sounded far too painful.

‘I don’t regret what I had with Tim… but I do regret not saying anything the past four years when I had the chance. You were there. You were there and I could never have had it any other way. When we’re not trying so hard for everything to be alright, everything’s at its best. I’m not even your girlfriend, and already I think about every minute I spend with you and laugh before I’m off to bed. I think about your jokes way too long than they should ever last. And your smile, god your smile, saying that that it’s all I could ever think about wouldn’t do it any justice. You have drawn out the ugliest laugh out of me that never should have come out of any human in existence. And frankly, I’m glad you do. Because just when I thought I could never smile again, you made me the happiest I could ever be.’

Dick:

Of all days. Of all times.

His survival rate at that point, rushing through Denver Airport with just a fifteen-minute layover period, with his shoelaces undone, probably wasn’t one he should have relied on. He was starving, but he had the appetite of a mammal in hibernation with the horrible airplane food costing a hundred dollars and everything else taking too long to prepare.

With just thirty seconds to spare, he fell to his too-narrow coach seat, shuffled along so his large ass-damn this cursed asset-would fit through the aisle and breathed just as the air hissed into the cabin after they closed the service door.

Head against the back of the seat, eyes up the ceiling, at the smoke that blew in through that gap outside the overhead locker, he ignored his dried skin, his dry mouth, his feet that were close to standing on a thousand knife tips, his eyes so close to just shutting out, his wallet painfully thin with this whole trip costing the equivalent of a round trip to Shanghai, and his whole body about to collapse. He hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours. It didn’t look like he was ever going to sleep at all.

And he hasn’t even called. God, what was she doing at home? Is she okay? Is she eating okay? Is she worried about him, staring at her phone wondering what she did wrong when she was nothing less of a perfect creation of all the gods that existed, an angel the earth didn’t deserve?

He really, really had to call.

Someone just sat next to him. A child. And next to him was his mother, who just put down her phone from a call.

“Excuse me.” Dick put on his award-winning smile, pretended he wasn’t sweating his balls off or that he was in any way close to psychological death, and hoped he looked the part as well.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I, uh, borrow your phone? I have to make a call. It’s sort of an emergency.”

“The plane’s about to take off.”

“It won't take long. I promise.”

He probably didn’t look as charming as he’d hoped. His hair was a mess not even a bird would settle into. The woman looked at him quizzically, up and down, and shrugged. Like it was handed to him on a silver plater, she gave him her phone.

The aircraft was about to take off. He only had so long.

He called Y/N’s number that he didn’t even know he memorized and settled back. It started ringing.

“MOM!”

The kid beside him. He was tugging on his mother’s shirt.

“MOM, I’M BORED.”

“We’re in a plane,-“

“I’M BORED. I WANNA PLAY ROBLOX-“

“Not now, we’re in a plane. Sit down.”

“GIVE ME YOUR PHONE-“

“That man has my phone.”

Fuck.

Y/N, fucking pick up.

“HEY, GIVE ME MY MOM’S PHONE BACK-“

“Kid, I hear ya. But you have to give me this one-“

“GIVE ME THE PHONE-“

That kid, a chubby one not older than six, stood up from his chair and was wild enough to grab Dick’s hand away from holding the phone up his ear. If he weren’t so desperate, he would have let him have it.

But god almighty, he’s never been as desperate as a starving man in a desert.

“Kid. Just one minute.”

“NO, GIVE ME!”

The mother put on a sleeping mask and faced the other way.

“KID-“

“GIVE ME MY PHONE-“

Back and forth, both grabbing onto the phone and the kid having the strength he did not at all expect, they ended up wrestling it out in the cramped-up economy seats until the kid was screaming out his ears.

He’s never looked so ridiculous but jokes on everyone else if they thought he could care less.

“Excuse me.”

An attendant, bags under her eyes and giving both of them, not just the kid, a dirty look.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the other passengers have complained about the noise. I’m gonna have to ask you to take your seat.”

“NO!” the kid screamed.

“DID YOU JUST BITE ME!?” Dick cried out.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”

“I NEED TO CALL SOMEONE!”

Dick grabbed the phone off his hands, palm to the kid’s face to stop him from reaching out to his outstretched arm. “Don’t you have some kind of coloring book you can give him?”

The attendant smiled, albeit forcefully, and walked back over to the back of the cabin. The kid did not stop trying to grab it off Dick’s arm.

She gave the kid a bag that probably had books and crayons and whatever stuffed inside. It looked so old. It had to have been in storage for the past ten years.

But as if some miracle heard him, the kid shut up, took the bag, and settled on his seat. Then he was as quiet as a mouse.

Fucking finally.

He held the phone up his ear and closed his eyes, fingers easing the tension on the nerve on his forehead.

“And sir?”

The attendant smiled at him. It didn’t look so much of a smile as it was a death threat.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to turn off your mobile device.”

To say he wanted to squeeze the life out of everyone in the whole aircraft, including himself, wouldn’t cut it.

And he didn’t even have it in him to protest.

“Hello?”

Her voice. At the other end of the line. That word was all there is to it, the only thing he heard.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes, counted to three, then ended the call after just two seconds.

The next thing he heard, for the next three hours, would be the screams of the child at his side, kicking on his seat like a fucking soccer ball.

‘That call from a year ago. The one about Kori. Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin. I overreacted. By a mile. Did some stupid shit to make up for that guilt and masked it over as another heartbreak when really, it was me refusing to have to go through all that again. I had to see you with that woman when I was in love with you for three years. Of course, it hurt. But I shouldn’t have an excuse. It was so stupid. Just thinking about it makes me want to break. I’m so sorry about that, Dick. I know we’ve already been over that months ago, but I just want to clear everything while I still can. God, I don’t even know if you’d listen to all this. I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I put all the blame on you when I had my share of mistakes. A whole lot of them. I’m sorry. I love you. And I’m sorry.’

You:

Hung up after two seconds. All you heard on the other end of the line was breathing and huffing, and nothing else. Whoever it was, they’ve been calling the past two minutes, just as you stepped out of the shower. And you almost cracked a rib flying from your bathroom to your kitchen table with just a towel around you, hoping to see his name on the screen. But alas, your luck just wasn’t at its peak.

You put your phone down, still with nothing to do, nothing else you could think of doing, than to just wait on that seat, stare at your phone, and hope Dick hadn’t hurt himself going after some goon alone the night before. Still no missing persons report. Nothing from the rest of the team, either.

Maybe just once more. You could call him. It wouldn’t annoy him too much. It had been hours since the last one.

You called, put the phone up your ear.

No ringing. It went straight to voice mail.

You opened your mouth, thinking you had something to say.

But you didn’t have anything to say. Not anymore. Not after you poured your whole heart out on the last one and now your throat was as dry as your palms were sweating.

You put your phone down, facing away from you, then you sank to your arms, burying your crumbling face away even with no one to see you.

‘That’s why I hate myself for not caring if this was difficult. Because I know, somehow, that’s it’s all still gonna be worth it. With you. Just thinking about the things we’d do, you’ve been the light of my life, the one person I look for not just because I need it, but because being with you makes so much of my day, every day that I see you. I look for you in crowds. I turn to your face when I want to look at something pleasant. I stare at doors, constantly hoping you’d be the one to walk in. I seek out for your voice, call you even when I know it’s a bother, find the most ridiculous excuses and the most stupid questions just so I’d have a reason to stand close to you, to have you talking to me, wanting all that everyday. I’ve never met anyone like you, Dick. I’ll never get used to you, and there’s no way in hell that I’d ever get tired of you. And maybe that’s the price to pay with all this being so hard. As complicated as it is, the troubles aren’t half the worth of the happiness it comes with.’

Two flights, three within the past thirty hours, jet-lagged far beyond a night’s repair, and his stomach in so many knots that even the bag of peanuts from the plane was too much to digest. And it wasn’t from poisoning or hunger or whatever it was. Everything in a whirlwind, one he can't even track.

He got to New York before it was dark, and he wanted to kiss the floor.

But he wasn’t at Gotham yet. This trip wasn’t over.

And if it weren’t for the half a million people crowded over at the airport, he would have been in Gotham right at that second.

Past the crowd, fumbling and running for whatever life he had left that wasn’t a spirit descended into something infinitely better than this, he made it over to the other side of the terminal, with his pits sweating his shirt off and his legs made of cooked chicken drumsticks and dough.

He got to the railway station, over at the attendant behind the counter.

“Excuse me,” he panted, and just like the one at the San Francisco airport, it startled her. Except now, there was no using his charm or his looks when he looked like he crawled out of a swamp.

“To Gotham,” he said.

“Ticket?”

He reached for his wallet, hands shaking so horribly it was worrying if he hadn’t known it came with his mind being as much of a mess as a wrecked ship from the 1800s.

And all the more did they tremble, down to his sorry knees, when he opened every flap there was on his wallet to find every pocket empty.

No.

No. no. no. no. no.

He searched his pockets. His jacket. His pants. His fucking shoes. If he had a hat he’d probably look into that too.

Nothing. Not a stub. A tiny stub that would have easily been blown by so much as a gust from a fan, let alone running a marathon in three airports in a single day.

“I,” he swallowed. “I seemed to have lost my ticket.”

Yeah. He wasn’t getting out of this one. The attendant looked at him and snarled like the annoyance he was.

“All the trains are sold out. And I’m afraid you can't board the train without a ticket.”

“Ma’am, I really, really, have to get to Gotham-“

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to step out of the line.”

Like every force in the universe was out to get him.

“Do you have a phone? A payphone at least? I really need to call someone-“

“Sir, please step out of the line.”

“Please, ma’am, there has to be some way you can squeeze me into one of those trains-“

The attendant waved at someone behind him.

Two security guards were at his side before he could even turn around.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” he huffed. “You guys don’t happen to have a phone I could use?”

Both guards ignored him, set him aside against a pillar.

And, with the excruciating exhaustion finally crashing into this one blow to the face, he stuck his back against the column, head up to the ceiling, then fell on his ass.

God, what does he even say to her after this?

If he actually gets to talk to her, that is.

“Final call for boarding!”

That light. One, single light. Or two, if he focused his eyes. The headlights from outside the revolving doors, from a bus that just opened its doors. It was a light, because it had GOTHAM in bold letters pasted onto its windshield.

And a line of people stepping inside. Kids and adults, old people alike.

He sat up from the floor, hungry, tired, and in pain.

But this was all going to be worth it. Every minute of this.

He just knew, that one last push, after this tormenting, inferno of a day, would all come to an end he’d dreamed about since he first laid eyes on her that day at the Wayne Manor’s library.

Dick got in line outside the bus, told the conductor he’d pay when they get inside. And after he did, he had just a quarter in his wallet to spare. No one sat beside him. The others were at the back. The one across was fast asleep. He couldn’t call her.

He’ll just have to hope, that whatever worries she had waiting for him to come up, that she’d forgive him enough for all this to end the way he hoped it would.

Three hours on a bus.

Didn’t even sound like it was remotely a long time.

The moment he took his seat, the bus doors hissed closed, and the air so silent, so did everything else calm.

He’s waited so long.

But he just had to wait for another three hours. In a bus. Then he’ll see her.

He closed his eyes.

‘I don’t even know why I rambled so much about all this being so complicated.

Because even if I had to walk up to the sky, I know there’s a galaxy waiting for me at the end. You are worth it. You are worth everything. I’ve never been so obsessed with anyone my whole life. You are, with my whole heart, my greatest love. And you are so beautiful that I never want to look at anything else ever again. And I never thought I’d get know beauty the way I do when I talk to you. You are everything I could ever want. And so much more.

And that pain, that hurt we both had to go through after all those years. That pining and waiting, and the heartbreak just because I was too stupid to understand that it didn’t have to be so hard after all, it doesn’t even matter, when at the end, I get to be with you.

I’d go through all that again if it means I can be with you.

You are the man I’ve dreamt about since I could first dream, and I’m lucky enough to have you in my reality. It’s you I want, Dick.

So I’ll wait for you. As long as I have to.

I love you so much.

Please, for the love of God, call me.’

You:

That message.

The longer you stared at your phone, the more you wondered if it was the right thing to do at all.

It was four am. You were tired. And worried.

And it was four am now, a whole day after.

Not a single call.

You’ve done it this time. You tripped at the finish line.

You were selfish enough to keep that man waiting for so long hoping he’d keep going, just as he had been for years.

And now, this is what you get.

You have yourself alone, in your apartment, one you haven’t cleaned in a week, and your heart in the same shatters as it often had been.

Your phone rang. You weren’t so excited to pick it up. Rightfully so when you saw it was just Bruce.

“Hello?” you said, your weight against the table’s surface, also surprised that it hadn’t broken.

“Y/N,” Bruce said. “I heard you were looking for Dick.”

“Mhm?”

“Sorry I haven’t called. Anyways, the last location I can point him to was at the Titans Tower in San Francisco.”

Okay.

You’ve had your heart broken before.

But it wasn’t just that that had broken right then.

Everything else, every bone, every bit of flesh there was, it was this numbing buzz you couldn’t even fight.

“What?”

Just then, someone knocked on your door.

And it wasn’t just a knock. They were pounding against the wood.

The ringing in your ears hadn’t even subsided, and you were breathless, muscles stiff. You just let the pounding go on until you heard Bruce hang up on the other line.

Life didn’t even give you so much as a second to process all that, of what he could be doing there, who he was with.

Your walked to the door, and without looking into the eyehole, you unlatched the lock and opened it.

Some glitch there was if all this were nothing but a simulation.

But it was as if the last five minutes-no-the last two days hadn’t happened at all.

Dick never looked like such a mess.

But, nonetheless, the way you stared at him was as if he was as beautiful as he ever was.

Everything that had broken, the moment you looked into his eyes, had fallen right back into place, into an entity far stronger than any quake could knock it out of.

Dick shut the door behind him.

He grabbed your face.

Then he kissed you. Without words. Without letting so much as a speck of time, however it worked now that it’d stopped, pass and waste away.

Dick:

Whatever she told him in that message he never got to hear, everything she ever had to say, the instant he felt her kiss him back, it was like every word flew out of her lips. How she wanted him. How she chose him. How in love she was with the mess of a human being he could be. How all the trials they’d been forced to go through, all the misunderstandings and the fights and the long months of this troubling, awkward place they wanted nothing more than to climb out of. He got all that with the way her lips molded so wanting and harsh, pressed so hard against his dried, chapped pair that have never witnessed anything more beautiful and so awfully perfect.

No more time to be wasted.

Not another second.

He had her. He finally had her.

He got the girl.

Not a chance that he wasted so much as another second.

He pushed her against the wall and the gasp that came out of her wasn’t at all out of pain, but at the sheer desire that had sparked at such impact that only knocked her into the same place he’d long settled in. And he could just feel, how much she wanted so badly to speak, to tell him what was raging in her head that was as much of a mess as his. But they’ll talk. Eventually. After.

All he wanted, right then, was to have her. Love her. Love her. To send her off to some paradise that long surpassed oceans and mirages and heavens that stood on clouds, to culminate that seemingly endless torture into a reward so great, that to say it would have been worth it would be so much an understatement. To play every instrument there was and let the song resonate into her body, and make it last for the rest of his life for so long as he could touch her. All that, he was going to give her tonight. Tonight. Right then and there.

Grabbing her legs up to his hips, her hands pinned to the wall above her head, it was too much of a flash for him to rush into this beautiful thing that shouldn’t be rushed at all. But he couldn’t slow down if it meant that he lives. Even if he died right after, he just couldn’t hold back.

He was pushing himself into her and the sounds that he earned out his lips were more than any songbird could cry out. After just having her against that wall, he finally got the sense to take it to the bed. It was dark. Not a light was on. And it was raining outside the one window she had near the bed and just the streetlight outside was enough to make him see her face. Dick placed her on top of his lap, on which she enjoyed herself to her own pace. Her hips were like waves, the ocean that rocked about, and the stain on his pants that she’d left behind was just as wet as so.

At that moment even she didn’t want to wait and talk any longer.

He took off her clothes, lied back.

Then he hoisted her up so the sweetest part of her body was just hovering over his mouth, her strong, beautiful legs, one of skin and the other of metal, on either sides of his head.

You:

You were made of gemstones. You were shimmering.

Of diamonds and rubies and emeralds, of the most precious rocks that could be found on every soil on earth.

Everything. That pain. That darkness. All the troubles and hardships, the disputes and every tear you’ve ever had to shed. Gone. Gone when he drew out this wonderful melody of sensations from his sweet, sweet tongue quivering you to every core. You were rocking, shaking, trembling, barely keeping yourself up. Not long after you screamed, and like the skies heard you it screamed back with a thunderous roar.

Then Dick shed his own clothes and moved inside you, rolling your hips with your two bodies now this one, beautiful entity, like you were holding his hand, just as you did right then, as you both ran through the darkness of a cave that has long haunted you, with creatures and bats and ghosts flying about, just to reach the end that was a light so close and so bright, you chased yourselves, chased that very light.

And once you reached it, that blinding, flashing white light that shone with this painful, glorious sting to every bit of your flesh, to say you found that end would be wrong. It wasn’t an end. It was this continuous, tantalizing aroma that would last a lifetime. It was beauty. You felt beauty. And it was in ripples you couldn’t see. A blur you couldn’t comprehend.

You had so much to tell him and ask him about.

But just as that wonderful night showed you, you had the rest of your life to do just that.

Epilogue

Dick:

Life could only ever be so cruel.

But life gives its niceties. Sometimes, to the people so used to it that they take it for granted.

But it’s even more so of a nicety when it’s the people who’ve long deserved it.

Not to say he deserved the world, but it was just that he’d gotten. From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

Watching her from his car’s driver seat, from where he had a perfect view of her looking at the wondrous scenes flash by outside the window. It was even more beautiful, more than ever before, now that he could take just a second off his time from the steering wheel just to kiss her.

Just a little over six months together. Never has there been anything so rewarding in his life. A rainbow, ten of them at least, that filled what was once this depressingly grey sky. He always knew it’d be worth the world. But even he surprised himself.

When they parked the car, got out into this wide, orange field, a farmland just outside of Jersey with a valley at the farthest end, the only thing that battled the brightness of her smile was the sun itself.

“It’s beautiful, Dick.”

Her voice, even more so.

He set up her canvas, all her paint, and her brushes. They found a spot on the grass that was clean enough for them both to sit on. She didn’t use her easel. Instead, they both laid on this plaid red and white sheet over the grassy soil, her using her own knees to hold it up. And Dick sat beside her, watching her as the hours ticked. Without looking away, no longer ashamed when she’d catch him.

Just before the last of the sun had set, he pulled out from his pocket a ring, one with a diamond a shape of a white rose on top.

He got it a week after they got together.

Her face, her lips wide open as she realized what came in front of her, then he asked her to be his. Forever.

She said yes, just as the sun fell.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

it’s a fucking metaphor!

Titans 3.08

i’ve finally gathered the mental and emotional resources to do this thing, so let’s go! as always, i’m typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. on watching this opening scene, i was thinking back to how gar was in s1, or even the early bits of s2. the way he idolised the others, particularly dick, and his readiness to go along with whatever they said, and the way he practically bled the need for acceptance. and here he is now, openly defying dick, fully open to and aware of the flaws of the people he loves and admires, knowing he is accepted no matter what and extending that generosity elsewhere. it’s a remarkable bit of character growth that’s... sort of blossomed in the background and so rewarding to see and acknowledge.

1.25. i guess what i really love about this conflict over how to respond to jason--as clumsily as it is sometimes written--is how their histories and individual traumas inform each character’s reaction. dick is torn between his guilt over what’s become of jason and his drive to do what batman had essentially given up on doing: he is motivated to track down red hood at all costs but there’s a sense that he’s not completely sold on the idea that the only way to stop him is to kill him. (he might go the comics route and try to put him in arkham? god, imagine if the season ended with jason in arkham.) kory’s never had much of a connection with jason in the first place, and jason has done one of the worst things he could do in her book: track and kill a member of her newfound family and is threatening to kill more.

and gar... sure. look. the idea of jason and red hood as separate entities appeals to him; that red hood emerged when jason was drugged to the gills by scarecrow and lost his usual inhibitions. gar’s struggled with what he becomes when he’s pushed to his limits, too--he did rip open that experimenting scientist with his teeth way back in 1.07, after all, and he was brainwashed by cadmus in s2 into becoming a literal monster. he needs to think, to know, there’s a dichotomy, a line that can only be crossed under extreme duress or by outside influence.

and he says--and we say--that he was accepted back into the titans in spite of what he’d done, but was he really? gar’s always struggled with his footing in this group; relegated to the caretaker, the tech guy, the gatekeeper, and sometimes punching bag even though everybody’s paying lip service to how much of a family they all are. perhaps gar reaching out to jason and offering acceptance is aspirational on his part: perhaps this is the effort he hoped the titans put/or will put into getting gar back, even when it would seem like he’s too far gone.

1.5. anyway my point is that i don’t think it’s worth discussing this in terms of right/wrong decisions because all of their reactions make a lot of sense given their backgrounds/personalities. gar is doing a fine job here of tracking down jason’s friends and trying to find him that way, but we the audience know that jason is ultimately going to end up an anti-hero/eventually-hero character, so with that knowledge in mind we know that gar’s reaction is the right one. it’s knowledge that the other characters don’t have, so to judge them on it is... uh, unfair.

1.8. also, molly is awesome, yay!

2. dick and barbara flirting over the phone is so cute! i love to see this side of dick: lighter, peppier, willing (even if somewhat reluctantly) to put his mission aside to go out on a date with his girlfriend. and i love how easy this makes his dynamic with kory too: it’s all very domestic and utterly delightful.

(also, re: the water leak in barbara’s office--you’re saying GCPD could afford fancy-schmancy table-wide touch screen computers and evil-lair lighting but needs its frickin’ commissioner to catch leaking water from above her desk with mugs and fishbowls????)

2.2225. this is probably a teeny tiny thing and i’m not sure i want to bring it up at all BUT. the fact that dick feels compelled to lie to barbara about not liking fancy gala food and eating something more substantial before the date? not a terribly great sign, though i wouldn’t call it a red flag per se.

“this from a man who forced his students to eat cauliflower crust pizza...”

3. so.... conner and kom are a Thing. huh.

in theory i really like the idea of them bonding over an innate alien-ness and longing for a place they could really belong. both of them are alien twice-over: conner a mix of kryptonian and human, practically generated in a test tube, and kom being somebody that was born different and rejected by her own people, now stuck on a planet dominated by an entirely different species. i even like them exploring this bond physically. i guess it’s the sense of... uneasiness around what we do and don’t know about kom that makes this scene land slightly left of centre to me. i think titans, especially through s2, has cultivated in its audience a sense of distrust even until the final episode, just in case somebody vital to the season is suddenly revealed to have had ulterior motives (i’m even low-key suspicious of leslie). i really want to see this kom-conner dynamic play out but the anticipation of watching the other shoe drop is sucking out the enjoyment.

4. for fuck’s sake dick, gar’s not your gatekeeper.

TIIIIIIIIMMMMM \O/

4.5. i love this nod to tim’s origins in the comics, the way he just comes in and lays out all his evidence and makes it clear to dick that he needs tim’s help as robin. the fact that he was there at the flying graysons’ last performance, he was obsessed with their acrobatic moves, and was observant enough to connect those moves with that of robin and later nightwing... all of this came together to put him where he is right now.

(i also love how he can’t contain his giddy excitement when talking about the day dick grayson’s parents died... to dick grayson. even if dick weren’t nightwing, that would be a deeply uncomfortable thing! yet tim can’t help himself, and i love him for it.)

4.8. it’s a testament to how much dick’s caught off-guard that he can’t come up with a better response to tim’s allegations other than “uh... he stole my moves! as you know, no two gymnasts in the world are allowed to do the same moves. now, let me escort you out while pretending poorly that i’m not at all shaken by this...”

4.9. i’ve talked about this before, but i find the logic around secret identities in this universe utterly fascinating. the titans don’t make much effort in keeping their identities secret: everybody seems to know that kory is starfire for instance, or that gar is beast boy. dick grayson is seen hanging out with kory a lot, especially at crime scenes. it won’t take a lot of sleuthing to find out that the titans are currently camped out at wayne manor, and to put two and two together.

my theory was that superheroes and villains have become such an integral part of daily society that it’s almost not worth it to seek out their secret identities, or that it’s just not a big deal anymore. like politicians or diplomats, not everybody bothers to look into who exactly their local politician is, but the people who know just... know. it’s a sort of unspoken social contract.

tim’s broken this contract by confronting dick about his identity, and dick’s not ready to deal with it. not entirely.

look at him! *pinches his cheeks*

5. ngl, it was quite satisfying to see jason knock the scarecrow out like that.

5.5. i guess... the question of jason’s culpability is always going to be a thorny one and would make for a great courtroom drama spinoff. there are a number of factors to consider: jason’s personality, the rough circumstances under which he grew up, his undoubtedly stressful transition to being robin, bruce wayne being... well, bruce wayne, never feeling accepted by the titans and having most of them turn on him, being roundly defeated and almost killed by deathstroke, alfred’s death, a fuckload of ptsd, his violent death, crane’s manipulations, coming back to life, crane plying him with a drug. but there is no easy line to draw between any of these factors to his actions. i think it would be a disservice to jason’s character to attribute his actions entirely to these things and rather irresponsible to do so. i think jason has to reckon with the fact that when he took crane’s drug, he wasn’t reckless and chaotic like the thugs he gave it to; the planning that went into hank’s death was meticulous and the way hank died--dawn essentially tricked into pulling the trigger that blew her lover into bits--is so drawn out and cruel.

5.75. it’s occurring to me that crane might have given jason a placebo. maybe jason’s dependence is psychological, and he’s externalised his fears in such a way that he believes crane’s drugs literally wipe them out, however temporarily.

in any case, the boy needs (more) therapy.

6. “he walked like robin...” fuck, tim

“gait recognition sweep” god, this show. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry. hey, once we’re done doing this gait recognition thingy, can we get a goddamn plumber in the house??? or move the commissioner’s desk so that sewage water isn’t dripping on her head or the million dollar touchscreen desk???????

6.5. oh no dick!!!!!! i am delighted that you got hurt but i feel ashamed about it! that looked like it really hurt!

he’s really not having a good time of it, is he. from being shot by a sniper to slamming at full speed into an suv, he’s got to be really fucking battered by now. and that’s just the physical side of it.

“can you believe that just over a week ago i was sitting in san francisco eating cauliflower crust pizza and feeling good about myself for the first time in five years...”

7. kory’s having visions again! now that she’s figured what they are, do you think the show’s just dropped justin? it’s curious that HPG hasn’t been brought up in a while after featuring relatively heavily in the beginning. hmmm.

8. dick’s in hospital but... he looks remarkably whole for someone who took a spill like that. you’d think he’d at least have a bruise to show for it. on the other hand, i love that the first thing he says is ‘i need to call home’. reminds me of season 1 dick and his clumsy attempts to explain away his found family as an ‘alliance of necessity’ or some bullshit. what a long way he’s come!

*gasp* dick’s hallucinating again!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m doing the dick’s hallucinating dance! can you believe that we’re carrying over these huge honking issues unearthed in season 2 onto season 3? can you believe?!!! all that time and effort i spent talking about dick’s mental health from last season has not gone in vain!!

... ahem. anyway. more on this later.

“hold on barbara, i think kory gave me the number to this therapist that she kept calling Hot Psychiatrist Guy...”

9. just an interlude to say that i’m barely halfway through the episode and i’ve already written 2k+ words... ugh. i’m going to try and be more concise.

10. man i fuckin love it when titans goes all out with its weird mindscapes and i’m extra glad that kory’s the focus this time. is that baby kom or maybe a secret sibling that neither of them knew about? was that lady luand’r? and is this place where kory was circling where the secret sibling is? it’s all very intriguing.

(if justin turned out to be that sibling... we’ve a real luke/leia situation on our hands.)

11. aw, i knew that nice security guard was going to die, but it still hurt to see him go :(

12. this show is so bizarre. like i get the mindscape as a narrative device, but jason using sex workers to try and vocalise his guilt about killing hank was just weird. like. i have to use tamil, sorry: idhulaan yaaru pa room pottu yosikara??? some things just can’t be translated into a second language.

i guess one way to interpret jason’s reckoning with what he did to the titans as a sign of him coming off crane’s drug, but i think it’s more to do with the disillusionment of realising that he was a mere pawn in a more sinister plan, and not, as he thought, a player in control of his destiny, rising to the purpose of liberating gotham of its fears in a way batman never could. along the way, he’s done some truly irreversible damage. it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

13. another hallucination! it’s really intriguing that it’s a young dick(?), younger than we’ve ever seen him, wearing an early-era robin costume from way before he even became robin. (this is also interesting in that it gives credence to the idea that ‘robin’ is an identity that dick created entirely on his own, and as a possible homage to his family.)

“old road, old house... it’s all gone.” i wonder what it all means.

13.5. it’s entirely likely dick’s hallucinating because of a brain injury from the accident, though just hallucinations without any other focal neurological deficit is unusual. he might’ve been microdosed with fear toxin at some point, though i wonder when... did jason do so after dick’s accident? did he get dosed at the factory from last episode?

it’s also possible it’s a continuing manifestation of dick’s issues from last season--which, if you remember, he never told anyone about and therefore never properly addressed. maybe he was hallucinating bruce wayne in a psychotic episode accompanying an acute stress reaction and maybe that’s what’s happening now. nobody’s denying that he’s under an extraordinary amount of stress right now. another way to look at it is that this is how he externalises conflict that he can’t bear to suppress anymore; if in s2 halluci!bruce manifested his insecurities and self-loathing, then these hallucinations... something to do with his fears, no doubt.

yet ANOTHER way to look at it might be: rachel is reaching out to him through their, well, psychic bond. after all, they were able to use that bond unconsciously last season to get the titans back together; maybe rachel has learned to gain a degree of control over it in themyscira and is sending across warnings? it’s all very intriguing.

anyway:

“i hear you skipped over the discowing suit in your evolution to nightwing... how could you??”

14. can you imagine, gar did all the work of reaching out to jason via molly and jason wants to meet dick? smh.

14.5. “i’m just a regular guy doing regular things” he says, standing at the opening of a secret old tunnel, like a secret person doing secret things, confronting someone who can now officially be called his stalker. neither of you guys are ‘regular’

14.8. ‘my dad was a cop and he taught me how to investigate’ - hmmm. i guess they’re trying to Explain Tim but i don’t think that’s really necessary. so he’s smart and he’s obsessed with batman and robin--that should be enough, imo.

15. that scene with scarecrow and his mother was... wow. i’m just laughing here helplessly, because what the hell? for a while i thought it was an extended dream sequence and i’m still not entirely sure that it isn’t...

anyway. i still love that titans is happy to throw out its plot in favour of extended character-exploration sessions.

15.5. it seems to me that this scene with crane and his mother (i have no idea if there’s anything in the comics similar to this) serves to move forward this season’s theme of harmful legacies and how parents can damage their children in the name of their mission. in a way it’s been the underlying message of the entire show but we’re really seeing it being reinforced this season. the titans, serving as a foil to scarecrow, are using the damage to rebuild themselves and actually work through their issues together, instead of spiralling further and further into the morass of their issues.

other than that... god, that scene was painful to watch. i can’t say i like this version of scarecrow or how this actor plays him at all.

16. i wonder what’s jason’s play here. i think he’s smart enough to realise that the titans aren’t going to just forgive him and let him be a titan again after what he did, and that dick agreeing to it is just a bid to pin both him and crane down. maybe it’s a ploy to trap them, get back on scarecrow’s good books so that he can have the drug again. who knows.

17. i absolutely felt dick when he said “we’ll bring him in and then re-assess the situation.” what the fuck else is he going to say? the priority is to get him.

so kory and dick are both hallucinating while potentially trying to rehabilitate their murderous siblings. CONFIDE IN EACH OTHER ALREADY

18. TIM NOOOO! you beautiful, reckless fool!

18.25. just to quickly address it here because i know it’s been brought up before: i think it’s perfectly justified to not have conner take tim to the hospital via superspeed because a) i don’t think we’ve seen conner do that with anybody so far and b) it’s probably not a good idea to submit tim’s body to that kind of stress without knowing what it would do to him. the paramedics with actual equipment and experience would be there in a few minutes, so on a risk assessment, i would say dick and conner absolutely made the right call.

18.5. i guess we won’t know what jason really intended to when the titans came to the pump to see him, but this is definitely going to set a big wedge in his relationship with crane. then again, crane got what he wanted--using starfire’s powers to blast through to the underground pipes--so jason can argue that this is exactly what he was working towards, too.

anyway, mortal peril, hallucinations, murderous family members, creepy visions and robins sprouting left and right. time to get rachel and donna on the scene, i think.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #garfield logan #dick grayson #koriand'r #jason todd #tim drake #jonathan crane #conner kent #komand'r #aaaaah this is 3k+#*collapses in a heap*

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

Text

Favorite color

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No such luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Death and life. Damian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Between the two of them, color like blood seeped.

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

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

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

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

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

They were back, and he was hiding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so he thought.

“We are not leaving you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘

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

“Not the point, Imp.”

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

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

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

(As it always does)

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

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

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

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

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

“Love has more than one form, Tim.”

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

He thinks… yeah. And this one…

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

This one’s shape might just be his favorite.

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

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flashflashhundredyarddash · 3 years

Text

okay my idea for a batman v superman movie rewrite i just spent a shower’s worth of time thinking about, indirectly inspired by @asilentguardian posts about his rewatch. also note i havent seen bvs probably since it came out and barely remember ANYTHING about it let’s go

so idc about plot someone else can worry about it lets focus on the THEMES. the big, overall message we explore in this movie is the parent/child relationship and how that affects people, particularly superheroes. the specific theme we want the movie to convey is that the reason superheroes fight and can provide hope for people is because of the loved ones in their life.

so we start with that scene of batfleck in metropolis as its being destroyed. he’s driving through downtown and we see that he keeps trying to call someone but it keeps going to voicemail. “this is dick grayson, i can’t answer the phone right now-” bruce hangs up, tries again, gets voicemail again, etc. finally he’s forced to abandon his car and trek through the wreckage on foot. so he’s running towards the center of the destruction, a big plume cloud engulfs him, he’s looking around, BAM rans smack into a preteen. it’s jason. jason tells him dick told him to find bruce, but dick stayed back to help. when they reach where dick is (a library or museum??) bruce and jason get there just in time to watch dick drop off a kid, run back into the building, and watch the building fall on top of dick. boom, end scene.

now we’re back in the present, bruce has clearly lost it. very aggressive/willing to torture people, but hasn’t killed. alfred tells him off about it, says he’s going too far, tells bruce he still has another son, in case bruce has forgotten. as soon as alfred leaves we get a scene of bruce destroying some shit.

idk wtf clark was doing in this movie so let’s give him more or keep his scenes with his mom where he bonds with his mom and talks about his dad or whatever idk. clark’s whole thing with his parents ties in nicely with the theme so we don’t really need to change anything apart from just digging into those more. maybe dealing with his decision to kill zod to juxtapose with bruce’s struggle to keep himself from killing? clark is able to kill zod to protect his family bcus zod was a threat that would not be able to be contained with clark’s resources, but clark is not the type of man who would keep killing for the sake of killing. it was a stressful moment in his life but clark knows not to go over the edge. bruce’s struggle is that he knows if he kill a criminal, he won’t be able to stop.

lex luthor. i kind of liked that they made an Artistic Choice for lex luthor bcus i get it. the general version of lex luthor is like. evil billionaire which doesn’t give him a lot of depth so we’ve got to do something with him for this movie. so what we do with lex’s backstory is that we keep the abusive father angle, so what lex would do, at night, is that he would pray for god/anyone to save him or grant him powers so he can save himself. i THINK there are some continuities where lex and clark went to high school together so we do that. as an adult, lex figures out who clark is and he gets upset specifically at clark because since clark has super awesome hearing, he would have been able to hear lex begging for help as a kid, but clark never did anything. personal grudge there.

so we’re ramping up to the actual fight. i don’t remember what lex’s plan was so we can keep it or rewrite however we wish. bruce is ramping up to kill supes bcus supes killed his kid, supes is ramping up to try and stop batman bcus batman is acting fucking nuts. lex is drinking champagne on a yacht, i guess.

bruce is going back and forth on whether to kill superman, alfred gives him another talk. bruce stares at his little batch of kryptonite. he’s about to lock it up, turn away from his quest when boom, flashback.

this was from right before the metropolis fight. bruce is about to enter the room for his board meeting, but dick stops to talk. jason is chilling nearby playing minecraft on his phone you’ve seen kids. dick and bruce scene where we get the pure essence of bruce and dick’s relationship. they’ve clearly been fighting for a while and their relationship is tense but they both want to work on it and they both clearly love each other a lot. dick says he’s gonna take jason to go bond with him, then beat, dick clearly thinking of something, then dick gives bruce a hug and calls him dad.

closeup on bruce’s reaction, clearly shocked and overwhelmed. choked up but trying to hide it, he says bye to dick, gives jason a hair ruffle. goes into his meeting.

present time. can see in bruce’s eyes he’s fucking IN IT now. LET’S GO KILL SUPERMAN MOTHERFUCKERS.

we’ll keep the martha scene i like it its fine it works. maybe for the villain we have lex, like, merge with zod or something?? something fucked up. redesign the appearance too make him actually look cool idc. wonder woman comes in and kicks ass like always.

okay so bvs ends and clark is dead AWW. i don’t remember the end of bvs so here we go. quick scene, bruce gets home, clearly exhausted, and we see jason in his room reading or working on smthng. bruce walks in and sits down with him and they start talking, jason is clearly happy about it. shot of a picture of bruce, dick, jason, and alfred on jason’s desk.

clark’s funeral scene. martha and lois grieve together. martha expresses how wrong it is to bury a child. maybe lois and bruce have a convo? maybe lois is pregnant fuck it let’s go all in. she makes a joke about setting up playdates and bruce is like i am Incapable of providing any emotion support you need in this moment because i am So Bad at human emotions and lois is like oh i know i just enjoy watching you squirm. then the scene with bruce and diana where they set up the justice league movie. bruce is like yeah killing people is wrong bcus kids are the future, i guess. diana is like yeah rock on, man. shot of the dirt rising off of clark’s grave. boom end movie.

#batman #batman vs superman #superman #bruce wayne #clark kent #the burd squawks

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dykesbat · 3 years

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okok songs from my bruce playlist + reasons

first love / late spring by mitski

“and I was so young when I behaved twenty-five / Yet now I find I’ve grown into a tall child… Please hurry, leave me, I can’t breathe / Please don’t say you love me / Mune ga hachikire-sōde”

pretty self-explanatory! bruce is emotionally immature and just. yeah i feel like he oftentimes does feel the same as he did in that alleyway yknow. maybe he’s realizing the depths of how immature he is right here in the moment of recognizing that the person he finds himself loving right now is also someone he could potentially lose. i think of bruce as someone who loves a lot. maybe here he’s acknowledging how the price of loving is the possibility of pain.

everybody lost somebody by bleachers

THIS ENTIRE SONG BROOOOOOO

“It’s this dream I keep having where I’m begging / Just to give myself a break / But there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to wake up and remember it / I wanna wake up and remember”

Bruce being an avid dreamer is a pretty popular concept n idk I think the concept of his dreams diverging from the nightmares of his loss to a dream of him acknowledging that he’s mourning and wanting the world to stop or like. him having a nightmare where the only coherent words he remembers after waking up is just his internal “i’m so tired” but maybe its survivors guilt maybe its just the desperation to hold on to whatever he can of the people that he lost maybe he's just trying to hold on to all the good and the good memories are just. so intertwined with the pain of loss. but he doesn’t want to let go of it

“I think pain is waiting alone at the corner / Tryna get myself back home, yeah / Looking like everybody / Knowing everybody lost somebody... A reason I see myself in a million faces / A reason I can't stop it all from changing / So come on, motherf*^&r, you survive”

i think these lines can be used to represent him turning his pain into his efforts for making gotham better. basically just. redirecting the love into the city and the people rather than only mourning. obv it would be his entire mission after his parent’s deaths. and for canon continuity reasons—since it's a bit more hopeful maybe it's after jason’s death and after tim comes around? idk i imagine bruce remembering his parents and remember jason around the manor hallways and on the city rooftops. the whole “trying to get myself back home” can be like home = the person lost or just. literally bruce trying to put in the effort to dragging himself back home for (himself? tim? alfred? hmm.) n the other lines are just. him seeing himself in gotham and seeing worth in human life. it connects to his compassion and his no-kill-rule and his empathy and his taking in of his children. and like yeah he can’t stop it all from changing he can't prevent every death but he’ll try to. the survive line is also pretty self-explanatory.

garden song by phoebe bridges

“I don't know when you got taller / See our reflection in the water / Off a bridge at the Huntington / I hopped the fence when I was seventeen / Then I knew what I wanted”

ok so I'm thinking. him talking abt dick in the first few lines. probably after reconciling with him after they've been enstranged for so long and he’s feeling regretful for the mistakes he made there while thinking of their past times together. maybe he took younger dick to a place he went to when he solidified his plan to train abroad?

“And it’s gonna be just like my recurring dream / I’m at the movies, I don’t remember what I’m seeing / The screen turns into a tidal wave”

do I have to explain.. avid dreamer bruce,, the movies,, the dream ending terribly,, gn!

“I don’t know how, but I’m taller / It must be something in the water / Everything’s growing in our garden / You don’t have to know that it’s haunted”

idk how to explain it? but just. bruce growing up in a manor that suddenly feels larger than it ever did before. n it feels like he took his parents ghosts w him and left whatever his childhood was back in that alley. and part of him can pick out what he felt on that day. and so much changed and he’s grown? he’s grown older than his father ever was? and he doesn’t know how that's possible?

class of 2013 by mitski

“Mom, can you wash my back / This once, and then we can forget / And I’ll leave what im chasing / For the other girls to pursue…. Mom am I still young / Can I dream for a few months more”

ok no he is not financially struggling n i will b honest this is a self-indulgent song to maximize relatability <3 but my decision to put this song was also based on the idea of him just. missing him mom so muchhhh?? maybe a dream? maybe the aftermath of fear gas? who knows but here the “forget” will just be for his parent's deaths. I imagine this to be somewhat akin to the mask of phantasm monologue he has at his parents grave. (spoilers for that: he’s basically asking his parents for forgiveness for potentially abandoning his oath of bettering Gotham as Batman). last line makes me #$%^&*( just. hnnnnnnn imagine him waking up blurry eyed and brain fogged and he’s just grasping onto the false belief of his parents still being there n clinging on to the comfort of his pre-crime alley childhood before he truly wakes up.

sick of losing soulmates by dodie

okok this is on my bruce + romance playlist too bc it reminded me of batcat and bruharvey. it can also be interpreted as his fam ig? but I feel like that doesn’t apply for most of the song.

“God knows what I would be if you hadn’t found me / Sitting all alone in the dark… What the hell would I be without you / Brave face talk so lightly, hide the truth… Cause I’m sick of losing soulmates / So where do we begin / I can finally see you’re as f$:$:&ed up as me / So how do we win”

I just think. that. Bruce would have abandonment issues. first four lines can be taken for all three (batcat, bruharv, the family) interpretations. the truth being hidden doubling both as his identity as Batman and just. the fact that he loves them lol (batcat, bruharv). last three lines lean towards bc and bh but personally they reminded me more of bat cat (probably bc ppl always say they’re so similar). basically I feel like this song could signify their fears of losing each other in whatever way that means (romantically, platonically, death) bc they both care for each other so much and impact each other so muchhsuagdj but at the same time it feels like its bound to end badly. (ofc it doesn't. whether or not they like. break up from a romance or have a falling out between friends i’d like to think some time after they heal they become reconnect n their relationship w each other is stronger and so alike what it was before but different bc its just. so much healthier this time. and to copy and paste from my thoughts on my other playlist: bruce crashes at selinas house sometimes and she makes the him catsit for her bc she thinks it’s funny when he complains abt her cats and calls them mean names and then gets a picture of bruce knocked out cuddling them like 30 m later courtesy alfred)

#ok to rb but idk how coherent this is 😭😭#bruce #dc comics #hi i made this playlist a while back and wanted to spill some Thoughts abt it #it has like 25 songs though so im not gonna go through them all esp since a bunch are just. self indulgent jsalkhd.#literally so many lines from these songs could apply to the version of him i think of n i am losing itttt #long post #mutuals feel free to ask for the playlistttt

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peppersonironi · 3 years

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Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter 2

Next chapter for my Duke Thomas Big Bang fic is up!

(Once again, a hearty thank you to my betas @queerbutstillhereand @theycallme-ook)

Read On Ao3

It was four am on a Friday morning, a week after Duke had decided he’d had enough of Bruce’s - and the other’s - incorrect opinion of him.

It was so early in the morning, that the main group of bats had been trickling back from patrol over the past hour or so. Stephanie and Cassandra had arrived first, followed by Jason ten minutes later. Then Tim had gotten back from his route with Harper, and Kate and Bette had stopped by for a bit (but eventually left for their own homes). Dick came home next, and Bruce had returned last with Damian.

Everyone was in varying states of winding down, with Stephanie at one end of the spectrum wearing silk pajamas, a fluffy robe which Duke was sixty-seven percent sure was Bruce’s, and bright pink bunny slippers Duke was positive were Dick’s. On the other side, Bruce hadn’t even pulled off his cowl, and was sitting down in front of the Batcomputer to work on a case.

Though Duke thought that Tim deserved his own category, dressed in a strange combination of disco track suit and kevlar body armor, and was hunched over three cans of energy drinks and a quart jug filled with espresso shots.

Duke leaned down to double check that his boots were laced up - one time he hadn’t, and had then proceeded to trip and fall into a garbage pile. Not. Fun.

He looked up, however, when Bruce clicked open a case file. So did everyone else, as if drawn by some invisible force.

They all clearly saw as Bruce hovered his mouse over a link which had been typed in sometime while the big bat had been away. The only hint to what it could be was the note reading “New Evidence.”

Bruce grunted in what for anyone else would be an exclamation of curiosity and went to click the link.

Which clearly went to YouTube.

In unison, all the bats’ eyes widened in realization. You see, in a family such as this one, pranks abounded. So they all had painstakingly memorized that series of letters and numbers.

They all knew what it meant.

Suddenly, the Batcave lit up with the dancing form of one Rick Astley. It was everywhere. On the several large monitors that made up the Batcomputer. The various screens spread across the caves. Everyone’s phones somehow were affected. As well as the X-Ray machine in the med bay, which was showing a skeleton dancing.

Bruce jumped up, rage full on his face. “Who did this? Make it stop!”

No one answered, all too frozen in shock at what had happened.

“Who…” Dick whispered from beside Jason, “Who would be that brave?”

“Yeah,” Jason whispered back, “Rick Rolls were banned at the 2015 family reunion after you played it two hundred and thirteen times in a row.”

Dick grinned, “those were good times.”

The two eldest boys began to bicker, Jason complaining that Rick Rolls were a part of the war crimes banned by the Geneva Convention, and Dick saying he “liked it: so there.”

Meanwhile, the song was reaching the chorus, and the other bats finally began to react. The three girls were dancing on top of exercise equipment, popping bottles of sparkling cider - or was that champagne? For their own sakes, they should hope it’s the former - they had pulled out of what seemed to be thin air.

Damian was in the corner, trying to get Titus to dance to the music - though he glanced around every so often to make sure that no one was noticing his moment of fun.

Tim was still nursing his collection of drinks like an alcoholic nursed a bottle.

Bruce was practically foaming at the mouth by that point.

“This is NOT FUNNY!”

That, of course, made everyone just start laughing harder. In the corner, Steph started to do the macarena completely off-tempo from the music. Cass seemed to be chugging the cider that Harper was pouring into her mouth.

Just then the holographic training simulations lit up, and Rick Astly began making his way across the cave, dancing all the way.

Bruce glared up at the semi transparent form of the singer, as if trying to force him into submission.

“T-pose to assert dominance!” Jason called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Yeah, that’ll totally work, B! Trust us!” Dick called as well.

Bruce took a moment to turn his head and glare at the two former Robins, who only smiled like the angels they clearly thought they were.

The image was not aided by the two giant stuffed swordfish just pulled from Jason’s utility belt.

“En guarde!” He cried, and tossed the one in his left hand at Damian, who had been trying to reassure his dog that the giant man wasn’t real.

The thirteen year old screeched, but caught the four foot long fish by its fin.

“This is animal abuse!” He cried.

“It’s not abuse if it’s dead!” Jason countered, and attacked the youngest bat with a passion.

As the duel progressed, Cassandra tried to raise her hand and gurgle out a bet on who would win, but began to choke on the liquid.

Harper cursed as she tossed away the sixth bottle of cider and tried to give Cass the heimlich maneuver.

Dick, meanwhile, pressed a button on one of the many consoles spread around the cave, and several stripper poles came out of hidden storage via hydraulics. He grabbed the nearest one, and began to dance.

“I THOUGHT I DISABLED THOSE?!” Bruce bellowed, as Dick began a twirl.

Stephanie, however, didn’t seem nearly as dismayed at the sight of the poles. She herself smacked a button next to her, and several disco balls dropped down from among the stalactites to join the fun. She then began to morph her macarena into an epic macarena. A few flips here, and a few pantomiming choking your enemies there. And a whole lot of randomly throwing glitter bombs at, well, everywhere.

But especially at the nearest authority figure.

Damian tripped over a bucket during his fight - apparently left over from Alfred’s earlier cleaning spree - and the soapy liquid spilled across the floor.

But, of course, them being the bats, Alfred didn’t use normal soap.

Huge bubbles began to farm from the liquid, the longest almost three feet in diameter, and rise up to the cave’s ceiling. The suds spread around, eagerly began to mingle with Stephanie’s glitter.

A solitary bubble, relatively small, floated over to Bruce’s head, and popped on one of his cowl’s ears. He was not amused.

*****

Five minutes later, everyone was lined up next to the Batcomputer with heads bowed in either shame or disappointment.

Bruce walked up and down the row, the perfect imitation of a drill sergeant. His glare matched as well.

“This is an outrageous breach of protocol,” he was saying, “the Batcomputer is not a toy, nor something to use for your own amusement. It is a serious tool-”

“Then why’s it called the Batcomputer?”

Bruce froze and whirled on Dick, who had chosen that inopportune moment to speak up.

“Because you were nine years old and saying no to you would have gotten me a meltdown.”

“It seems to me, Bossman,” Stephanie began, tenting her fingers in an attempt to act serious (the effect was strange combined with her bathrobe and slippers) “That you are perfectly happy to let Dick get away with things. But in this situation, with women present, you are strangely cold. This shows blatant sexism on your part and in this essay I will-”

“That’s enough, Stephanie.” Bruce cut off as a round of snorts and giggle erupted from the group of bats.

“You do realise that no one here is going to speak, right?” Jason asked, “You did teach us to resist torture. And - pardon my french, Alfred - but you are no fucking way close to the level of torture I’ve gone through. Namely waking up to Batcow sitting on top of me.”

“Are you commenting on her weight?” Damian demanded, glaring daggers at Jason.

“I said no such thing.”

“ Boys .” Bruce demanded, rubbing his temples. “Jason is right - not about Batcow’s weight - but I’m not going to get any of you to talk willingly.” He paused and made eye contact with every single bat present, trying to reach into their souls.

“Therefore,” he continued slowly, “I’m giving you one last chance. Otherwise: No one gets cookies from Alfred for two months. ”

The shock was immediate. Alfred’s cookies, of all kinds, were worth more than gold in the Manor. The ability to not have them? And for two months? Bruce truly was a cruel hearted tyrant if he was willing to go to such lengths.

Duke gulped.

“Fine, then.” Bruce said simply when no one answered. “I guess we’ll just have to check the security footage of the Cave.”

Why didn’t Bruce think of that earlier? He clearly wasn’t trying to give the kids an easy way out.

Bruce stalked over to the computer and began to furiously type at the keys, pulling up the footage for the past few days. The group watched in a tense silence as Bruce rifled through the multiple recordings, searching for the culprit.

“AHA!” Bruce grunted, upon finding a specific time stamp. There was a figure emerging from the shadows. He paused and then slowed down the video so they could all see who it was.

There were several gasps as the figure came into the light, looked around, and made his way to the computer. They had shown their face, not even bothering to hide.

Everyone whirled to Duke, then back to the screen.

“No way,” Harper whispered under her breath.

Because the person on the footage, who was now adding the link to the case file and hooking up bluetooth speakers, was Duke Thomas himself.

Bruce’s eye twitched.

There was a general consensus among the resident vigilantes in the cave at that time: Duke wasn’t going to live to tell the tale.

Duke felt uneasy under their scrutiny, unsure of what to do. This was his plan, after all. To be seen differently. But so far the lack of accusations or uproarious debate was disconcerting.

He looked up at Bruce, awaiting his reaction. Bruce didn’t meet Duke’s eyes.

“Hrn,” he grumbled angrily instead and whirled on Tim. Said teenager was barely standing up straight - well, he was leaning on Steph heavily - and blinked wearily around the cave. He didn’t seem to understand what was going on.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed for a long moment before he whipped around and furiously began to mess with the playback settings on the footage. Everyone stood still, not daring to move while Bruce grumbled under his breath.

Finally Bruce straightened and pointed dramatically toward the screen.

“There,” he grunted out, and everyone subconsciously leaned a little bit forward.

They didn’t see anything different from before, though Bruce’s finger did bring their attention to one of the bats that flew across the upper left hand corner. A few seconds of footage later, and yet another bat flew across in a similar pattern. Not exactly the same, so it wasn’t really out of the ordinary. Lord knows the bats would randomly fly out and into their hair much more than necessary.

“Note how the figure is disturbed when each bat flies across the screen,” Bruce said in the same voice he used when talking about a case - cold, impersonal, and yet like he was giving a college lecture.

No one spoke, not really sure what to say. I mean, what was the correct course of action when your father figure suddenly refuses to accept reality, and is grasping at the most unlikely of straws?

“I know this technique anywhere,” Bruce said more to himself than the line of vigilantes. He turned, completely passing over Duke, and set his sights on Tim.

“Timothy Jackson Drake,” Bruce growled, stalking forward, “What possessed you to doctor this footage?”

Tim didn’t respond, only mumbled incoherently and leaned onto Steph some more.

Bruce was furious, bearing his teeth as he spat out his response: “Now is not the time to use the anti-torture training I’ve given you.”

Tim nodded slowly and draped his arm on top of Stephanie’s head.

“You should know better than this,” Bruce began, “pranks are strictly forbidden in the cave, as you very well know. And in addition, I taught you better at framing than this. You choose a victim that could actually be considered as a suspect. Trying to pin the blame on Duke was your undoing - he would never do something like this.”

Duke cringed slightly, as the rest of the bats glanced Duke’s way. All were a mix of confusion and awe.

This … was not how this was supposed to go. No, screw that. That was an outrageous understatement. Things ‘not going according to plan’ would have been Jason randomly blaming Harper for the mess on no grounds - or maybe Bruce not bothering to check the cameras, opting instead to just ground everyone.

But blatantly ignoring evidence and then lecturing someone completely unrelated? No, this was too much. It couldn’t be real. This was some kind of scare-tactic wasn’t it? Duke was too much of an adrenaline junkie to be bothered by the usual ‘hanging upside down over a busy road’ schtick.

But then Bruce moves on to possible culprits Tim could have chosen instead - did he seriously think that Ra’s Al Ghul would Rick Roll them?! - and Duke lost hope.

“Uhh, Bruce?” Duke asked after the ten minute mark.

The Dark Knight turned and faced Duke.

Duke scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think I could head out for patrol now? It’s getting light out, and since you’ve clearly got this covered… I thought I could scoot out?”

Bruce was nodding before the end of Duke’s request. “Yes, go. I’ll deal with Tim. You don’t need to worry - you won’t be blamed. It clearly wasn’t your fault.”

Duke nodded slowly, and covered his disappointment with a small smirk. “Thanks, B.”

He jogged over to the edge of the platform and dropped down beside his Signal-Cycle. A routine mounting, a quick putting on of his helmet, and he was off.

Duke was scowling as he left, wondering what on earth had gone wrong.

*****

“Did you see that smirk?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Did he blame Tim on purpose?”

“How, though? To make such a tactical move -”

“It would have taken a shit ton of planning.”

“Can we get back on the fact that Bruce was fooled?”

“Or who fooled him?!”

#duke thomas #duke thomas big bang #batfam #fanfiction #my fanfiction #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #harper row #cassandra cain #damian wayne #batfamily

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is-it-art-tho · 3 years

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Summary: What happens when two of the most emotionally damaged members of the Batfam are tricked into spending quality time together?

Damian and Jason have complicated histories when it comes to family and revenge, but a Father's Day card could help them start to work through it.

____

“You didn’t have to come,” Jason pointed out, trailing his fingers along the wall of greeting cards.

Damian scowled at a New Year’s card with a drawing of Superman on the front being pulled into the air by a balloon over the caption Up, up, and away to a new year! It was infuriatingly nonsensical. Why would the alien need a balloon if he could already fly?

“Pennyworth insisted. And I was under the impression that this was going to be some form of surveillance operation. It seems he didn’t find it necessary to disabuse me of that notion before we left.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the pleased slant to Pennyworth’s mouth as Damian had gotten in Todd’s car. The younger boy had assumed it was because Alfred would get to have the house to himself for the afternoon. Now he suspected a much more nefarious motive.

Jason chuckled. “Played by the old man, huh? Anyone who thinks Bruce is the master manipulator hasn’t met Alfred.”

“Tt. I wonder what I have done to upset him.”

“Hm?” Jason plucked a card from the wall and skimmed it. He chuckled at whatever it said.

“Pennyworth must be fairly irritated to have set this up. Obviously he knows how we feel about each other.”

At that Jason raised an eyebrow, putting the card back in its slot and grabbing another. “Oh yeah?”

“Of course he does.”

“And how do we feel about each other?” There was a subtle lilt in his voice; Damian could see the older boy fighting back a smile.

His jaw clenched. “Stop acting like a fool. You know the status of our relationship.”

“Thought by now you’d realize it’s not an act. I really am just an idiot.”

Damian scrunched his mouth together, but continued with forced calm. Meanwhile a woman pushed her cart past them slowly, clearly eavesdropping as she pretended to examine the envelop options.

“We are colleagues. That is all. Otherwise, we stay out of each other’s way.”

“Right,” Jason agreed as he flipped open yet another card. This one had Green Lantern grinning on the front and saying something that Damian couldn’t see around Jason’s fingers. “Why do you think that is?”

“What?”

“The whole ‘staying out of each other’s way’ thing. Why is it like that with us?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, I’ve got actual beef with Bruce, Dick-wing, and Replacement. Or at least, I did. You, on the other hand,” he glanced at Damian now. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Damian echoed incredulously, his voice grating under the strain of keeping it at least somewhat moderated. “Since the moment we met, you have made it abundantly clear that you want no part of me. Most of the time, you refuse to even look in my direction. You set the terms of this relationship, and I have accepted them. That, Todd, is my deal.”

Damian’s face felt hot, and it took more effort than it should have for him to slow his breathing. The nosy woman was openly staring at them now.

Jason blinked at him, his eyebrows arched in surprise, then looked back at the wall of cards. His expression reverted into something smooth and inscrutable, but his ears had gone red.

“Hm,” was all he said in response, exchanging the card in his hands for yet another.

Damian, on the other hand, felt as if his head might pop, and Jason’s lack of reaction was only making it worse. Now on top of being inexplicably angry, he was also embarrassed. Compared to Jason’s calm, he looked like a child throwing a tantrum in a store.

He was also embarrassed that Alfred had tricked him into coming here for a reason he apparently did not understand, and that Damian had also apparently misinterpreted something about the dynamic between him and Jason. All this time Damian had thought he’d understood the rules of engagement between them. Now it seemed as though he had been mistaken; that fact burned in his stomach like acid.

But Damian knew what he saw. He had not made up the aura of revulsion that had initially wafted off of Todd in waves whenever Damian had come around. He had not imagined the surreptitious glances of rage or disgust, the loaded silences between them. And he would not let Todd try to make him think that he had. As if all this time he’d been playing make-believe like some foolish child.

“What are you even doing?” Damian spit. For the first time, he noticed that Jason was looking at Father’s Day cards.

The older boy offered a delayed and distracted, “What?”

“What are you doing?” Damian repeated slowly, emphasizing each word.

Jason looked at the card in his hands before looking back at Damian, the blush in his ears intensifying. There was an edge in his voice when he retorted, “What’s it look like?”

“It looks like you’re browsing Father’s Day cards, which is odd seeing as how you don’t have one.”

Jason recoiled, and Damian relished the wild fury that flared in his eyes – the break in his vexing calm. The younger boy found himself bracing for a physical attack; the others would never be so reckless in public, but from what he’d seen of Todd, this boy was careless and unpredictable enough to launch into an all-out assault right here in the pharmacy.

But then the fury faded into something barely restrained, and he muttered,“You’re lucky you’re still just a brat and that I don’t pummel children.”

“I am not a child,” Damian snarled, trying not to cringe at how utterly childish that response sounded on his lips.

“You’re an infant. And I’m sick of looking at you. Go wait in the car.”

Although he wanted nothing more than to do just that, part of Damian despised the fact that it would now look like he was taking orders. He stood there, weighing his dignity against his overwhelming desire to be elsewhere, until he caught the flash of ire in Todd’s eyes again and decided that the consequences of his defiance would not be worth whatever satisfaction he might glean from it.

He stalked out of the pharmacy, ignoring an employee’s too-bubbly farewell as he slammed open the door and marched toward the old, definitely-stolen Jeep in the lot. It wasn’t until he yanked on the locked passenger door that he realized he’d forgotten to get the keys, and he threw his head back and screamed a curse that would have turned Alfred to stone.

There was no way he was going back inside now, so he found himself sitting on the curb, his arms crossed tightly around his knees as he glared at the asphalt.

A few minutes later, he heard the chime over the door, then the crunch and shuffle of boots on pavement followed by the sound of the car doors unlocking. He got in without a word and glowered straight ahead.

Beside him, Todd got in empty-handed and started the car, but they didn’t move right away. The following silence felt like a precursor to something, and Damian was glad he hadn’t yet put his seatbelt on. Adrenaline bubbling up in his chest, he slid his hand over to unlock his door, ready to make a quick exit.

At last, he chanced a glance in the older boy’s direction, expecting to find unbridled fury and perhaps even murderous intent. While Todd did still looked incensed, his unnaturally green eyes burning a hole in the windshield, he also looked oddly wounded and confused. The expression was enough to distract Damian from his escape plan, and he paused with his hand on the plastic nub of the lock.

Jason muttered something, and Damian asked, “What?”

“I said ‘I don’t hate you.’ I mean, I do – I did. But it was never personal.”

“That doesn’t make any–”

“Would you just shut up? I know, okay? I know it doesn’t make sense. Just let me–” Jason exhaled loudly, running his hand over his face as he tipped his head back into the seat.

When he spoke again, it was with his eyes closed and his hand still resting over his mouth. “I’m trying to communicate. Just work with me, all right?”

“Tt.” But Damian fell silent, allowing the older boy to continue.

Jason at last let his hand drop, his eyes slipping open so that he was staring at the stained and scuffed cream-colored ceiling. “When I first met Tim, it was like I’d been punched in the face. I don’t know how much you know about me and my… history, but even when I was Robin, Bruce and I never completely agreed on how we should handle things. We got along most of the time, but we argued a lot. He thought I was too aggressive, I thought he was too soft. He thought I was impulsive and reckless, I thought he had a stick up his ass.”

He paused. “Butt. Don’t tell Alfred I cursed in front of you. Anyways, we were just so different. The poor kid from Crime Alley and the billionaire CEO. It shouldn’t have worked, but when it did, it was great. And when it didn’t…”

Todd paused again, his gaze becoming distant and… pained, Damian thought. Not a sharp, lancing pain, but something dull, like an old bruise.

“Then I died and I came back and there’s this new kid– the new Robin. For some reason, I’d gotten it in my head that Bruce would just retire the role all together after me. As if he cared enough to do something like that.”

He smirked, but there wasn’t an ounce of joy in it; it was a sour twist of his mouth that reminded Damian of poison.

“So, there he was. Robin 3.0. And he was good. Like really good. I was a good Robin, Dick was a good Robin, but Replacement.” Todd shook his head in rueful appreciation. “The kid is a genius. He’s like a mini-Bruce. Even Dick was never like that. Apparently he even figured out the whole secret on his own when he was like fourteen or something?”

“Thirteen,” Damian corrected quietly. He, too, often found himself impressed by Drake’s mental acumen, even if he’d never admit it aloud. Damian was sharp, but he’d had to work for years to get like that; for Drake, it just came naturally. Watching him solve a puzzle was like watching a prodigy at their craft. There were connections that Drake could make that Damian knew he never could, no matter how many years of training he got under his belt.

“What are you getting at?” he asked, perhaps more sharply than he’d meant to.

“I’m saying, that when I first met Tim, I hated him. Like really, genuinely hated him. But it wasn’t him that I was pissed at. It was what he was. He was everything I never was and could never be.”

“Smart?” As soon as Damian said it, he regretted it. He could never figure out why he was like this, always throwing barbs even when he didn’t really want to. It was like a reflex, and he again braced for the equally reflexive response he expected from Todd.

Instead, the older boy barked a laugh. The sound was as genuine as it was sad.

“Yeah, that. But mostly, when I saw him I saw someone who was more like a son to Bruce than I ever was. And a way better Robin. They just fit together. Rich kid to rich kid. Like puzzle pieces. Then I met you. My worst effin’ nightmare.”

Damian bristled. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

“I hated Tim because he was like Bruce’s actual son. How do you think I felt about you?”

Any quick retort died in the younger boy’s throat. He swallowed and frowned at the glove compartment. “I fail to see how my biological relation to Father has anything to do with you.”

Jason sighed. “It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. But I look at you and Tim and even Dick and all I can think is, ‘I bet Bruce would kill for them.’”

He chuckled wryly. “Jesus, it sounds even more effed up out loud.”

And again, he lapsed into a heavy silence, this one so cold and absolute that Damian hardly dared to breathe.

After some time, when it was beginning to feel as if Jason wouldn’t speak again, Damian cleared his throat and said, “Obviously, I was not there when you had your… incident.”

Jason scoffed, perhaps at Damian’s choice of words, and it rankled him, but Damian continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

“But I have heard stories from that time, and the time shortly after. From what I understand, your death was not insignificant. It nearly killed him.”

Jason seemed to be working hard to maintain his sardonic grin; he was failing. “Is that what they told you?”

“It’s what I’ve gleaned. And after living with Father for several years, I don’t doubt that it’s true.”

“Tell me something,” Jason said, his eyes searching Damian’s thoughtfully. Any trace of humor, false or otherwise, was gone from his expression. “If someone killed you tonight, what would Talia do?”

Damian stiffened but said nothing. He knew the answer and he knew that Todd knew as well. His mother would be enraged by his failure, for certain. She would talk grandly about how Damian was no longer her concern since he’d chosen to be with Father, but the same day she would unleash utter destruction upon everyone responsible. She would lay waste to them and their families and salt the earth at her feet. His killer would know the full wrath of the League of Shadows, and the last thing they would see would be the tip of his mother’s blade.

Damian knew this implicitly, but the knowledge did not inspire any feelings of love in him the way Jason apparently suspected. The younger boy did not feel flattered by this assurance. If anything, it made him sick.

“Father does not grieve in blood,” Damian said at last, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. “He isn’t like us.” Damian didn’t know if us meant himself and the League of Shadows, or him and Jason. Perhaps both.

He’s better, is what he wanted to add, but instead Damian continued, “And vengeance is not always love.”

He thought again of his mother. The same woman who would wage a war on his behalf had also nearly killed him dozens of times herself. The fact that both of these things could be true at once still made his head spin.

Jason gazed out the windshield for a moment before offering a simple, “Hm.” It would have sounded dismissive, but Damian could see the consideration in his eyes.

Outside, the sun was tipping into late afternoon, and shadows were creeping longer and longer across the ground. Damian watched two birds dance together in the air. At first it looked like they were fighting, but then they landed side by side on a powerline, so close their wings were nearly touching.

His finger worried at the plastic lock as he built up his nerve.

“I don’t hate you either,” he offered, and he was grateful that his umber complexion a least somewhat camouflaged any flush that might be creeping into his face. Even staring out his window, he felt Jason’s eyes on him.

“You should.”

“I don’t.” He took a breath. “Where I come from, love is earned. Every day you must prove yourself worthy of it and every day is another opportunity to lose it. The slightest failure could cost you everything.”

He forced himself to continue quickly, outpacing the memories he felt rushing to meet him. “That is the mindset I arrived in Gotham with. My first few years with Father were marked by that conviction. It made sense to me. Dick and Tim are worthy combatants. I understood why Father would offer them his affection. But you… All I knew of you was that you had failed.”

At that, Damian’s head swiveled to look at Jason, realizing too late how his words must have sounded. The older boy was rigid, but he didn’t look angry.

“I didn’t mean–”

“I get it. It’s okay.”

“No,” Damian insisted sternly. “It is not. I was raised to believe that to die in battle was the ultimate failure. But that was wrong. Like much of what I learned back then.”

When Jason didn’t say anything, Damian continued, “I heard stories about how you were when you first returned. How you hurt Father and the others over and over again. I know about Father’s attempts to reach out to you and how you turned your back on him for years.”

Damian could feel the temperature around Jason dropping, as if the older boy was turning to ice at Damian’s side, but he continued, feeling now as if he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. The words flowed out of him, unfiltered and unrelenting.

“Your grievances against him were so numerous and severe, it didn’t make sense to me that he would still love you. And yet he did.

“Meanwhile, I live in constant fear that I will inevitably prove them right. That I’m not worthy of…” Damian’s nail carved into the hard plastic of the car lock as the words hitched and stuck in his throat. He swallowed.

“Who?” Jason asked quietly.

“What?”

“Prove who right?”

My mother. My grandfather.

Everyone.

Me.

“That’s not the point,” Damian answered. “I resented you and your unearned love and and how absolutely oblivious you seemed to be to that blessing. Even now, it is clear to me that you fail to recognize how fortunate you are.”

A few years ago, Damian would not have been able to say this without lacing the words with venom. Now he was able to say them plainly, though something in the center of his chest still ached.

“You know it’s not like that with you, though, right?” Jason confirmed. “That whole earning and losing love thing– Bruce would never make you do that. You’re his son.”

“As are you.” Damian forced himself to look Jason dead in the eye then, and Jason held the gaze for a beat before looking away, his ears once again going red.

“You do not see the way Father looks at you,” he explained. “It is like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.”

Jason was speechless for a second before muttering, “Whatever you say, kid,” as he put his hands on the wheel and backed out of the parking spot. When they hit the road, the older boy switched on the radio, and Damian was grateful for the blanket of sound to quell any further discussion.

He sunk into the seat then, oddly exhausted, and turned around in time to watch as the two birds on the wire took off towards the clouds.

*********

“Just admit it. You killed him, didn’t you?” Tim asked, leaning back on the rear legs of his chair. “You finished the job.”

Damian’s eyes flicked up from his book to glare at the boy across the kitchen table. This particular joke had been going on for over two weeks, and while Tim’s attempts at humor were never amusing, this one was particularly grating since it also managed to twist Damian’s guts into guilty knots.

No one had seen or heard from Jason since he had returned Damian to the manor after their disastrous pharmacy outing, and now all the younger boy could think about was everything he had done wrong. He never should have been so transparent; he never should have been so cruel. In retrospect, he could concede at least that much.

Damian typically preferred to apologize with his actions rather than explicit words, and he’d thought that he had managed to convey that while he and Jason were in the car together, but perhaps the older boy had not seen it that way. Perhaps he’d been waiting for a formal apology, and now that so much time had elapse, they had finally fallen below even the status of colleagues – not quite enemies, but certainly no longer allies.

Damian straightened in his seat, setting his shoulders. If that was the case, then so be it. He was the last person who would ever weep over a burned bridge. The loss would be inconvenient – Todd had proven himself a useful aid in the field at times – but it was not as if they had ever been particularly close or worked together often. If Todd wanted to move on, then Damian would do the same.

He returned his attention to his book, but after a few seconds of rereading the same sentence over and over, he slapped it on the table with a frustrated sigh and took a sip of his lukewarm tea.

There was distant knock at the front door followed by some muffled conversation between Alfred and whoever the other person was. A moment later, Damian shouted as a plastic bag rocketed into the side of his head and fell to the floor. He whirled toward the source, but all of his rage evaporated into blank shock when he saw Todd leaning in the doorway, a fading bruise on his cheek and a butterfly bandage over his eye.

“You like those, right?” he asked.

Damian blinked down at the bag on the floor. Reese’s cups.

He nodded.

“Good. You and I are patrolling together tonight, got it?” Jason’s tone was decisive, leaving little room for disagreement. Two weeks ago Damian would have bristled at it, but for once, he felt he was reading the older boy correctly, and for all Jason’s gruffness, Damian was certain that this was not an order, but a request.

He nodded again, and Todd’s mouth twitched at the side.

“Wait, you disappear for two weeks and come back with free candy?” Tim exclaimed. “Where’s mine?”

“Get your own, Replacement,” Jason shot back, disappearing back through the door and shouting, “Bruce! C’mon, I wanna kick your ass in pool. Sorry, Alfred…”

Damian ignored Tim’s dumbfounded stare as he bent to pick the candy up off the tile. His chest suddenly felt warm and buoyant, and he lingered out of sight below the table for a second longer than necessary as his lips curled into a tiny smile.

#damian wayne #jason todd #jason todd and damian wayne #whump #emotional hurt/comfort #the boys just gotta talk it out #robin #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #batfam fanfic #batfam fanfiction #batfam #red hood

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yourbooksname · 3 years

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Batfam disney film headcanons

Normal Disney

The Little Mermaid

- Damian finds Eric ‘likeable’ - its because Eric is practically Dick Grayson

- Bruce accidentally reveals that young Dick had a crush on Ariel and the others tease him mercilessly

- “Seriously, Dickhead, every redhead you’ve ever seen?”

- Dick grumbles but has a gleam in his eyes as he stares at the screen during part of your world

- “Is she serious? Surely one who has studied this much knows what feet are-”

- “Demon, shut up”

- They say Grimsby is a knock off alfred

- “Oh, please, knock-off means it bears some resemblance. I surely hope other than the accent you all see no relation of him to me.”

- They all kinda love Ursula, in their own special way

- Steph is dancing around, if you could call it dancing, dragging cass with her (who is smiling the whole time) during under the sea

- Jason leans back and, with a cruel smile on his face, exclaimes that “this is the best song” during les poissons

- Which causes an uproar from most of the others

Aladdin

- Everyone tiptoes around it, and then steph makes one joke and suddenly its constant jason jokes

- “Is crime alley this musical?”

- “Would you all shut up? *mumbling* I didn’t even have a monkey”

- “Who’s your Jasmine, aladdin?”

- “Tt, statistically speaking based on time spent together, it’s that buffoon Harper”

- Jason is an inch from killing them but none of them really care at this point

- Once they caught him humming one jump ahead while cooking and they will never ever let him live it down

- “steph I swear if you keep playing the Gilbert Gottfried version of WAP over iago-”

- Rajah appears, and it’s too late for them to turn the movie off before

- “Father, I would like a bengal tiger.”

- Most of them are clearly having a great time during friend like me

- Jason brings up the talent of Robin williams

- and damian says “who”

- Jason turns, bewildered, and decides he’s going to force him to watch every single robin williams movie until he finds one he likes (It’s Jumanji, surprisingly. Dick likes Mrs. Doubtfire, Tim loves Good Will Hunting, Jason loves Dead Poets Society, Bruce is partial to Good Morning Vietnam, Steph loves Aladdin, Cass loves Hook)

- They have a moment of silence at the end for robin williams

Lilo and Stitch

- The family likes to joke Damien is stitch

- “A violent” “but loveable” “little gremlin...”

- “Tt, if we’re assigning roles, then Drake is that contemptuous redheaded girl”

- ‘Listen brat-”

- Duke shuts them up by saying that “this is the most ohana family i’ve ever seen in my life”

- Cass wants to learn how to spit fire

- Steph is fully on board, and so is Jason

- Damian wants to watch

- Alfred is about to have a heart attack

- But Damian does enjoy the movie, as it reminds him of his acceptance among the bats - not that he’d tell them

- Surprisingly, this movie also means a lot to Jason and Dick

- even if they don’t say it out loud

- they watched it together when Jason was young; and the sibling relationship in the movie moves ‘em both - and Jason can enjoy some quality Elvis

- However awkward, they’re nicer to each other after each viewing, and on a bad day they both get emotional during the movie (one more than the other, openly anyway)

- That cannot and will not stop Jason from messing with the bats/breaking the rules the next day on Patrol, and when Dick or Bruce confronts him, yelling “Ohana, bitch” and jumping off the building

A goofy movie

- Similar to Lilo and Stitch in terms of bonding, it brings Bruce closer to the boys

- but especially Jason, because Jason

- is Jason

- and would def. be the one to object the most to a road trip

- They make an uneasy but loving eye contact during ‘Nobody else but you’

- Dick LOVES powerline, tell me i’m wrong; this bitch knows all the dance moves to both Stand Out and Eye to Eye (and the perfect catch, technically)

- Tim thinks the movie is worth watching just for Bobby (”you would, nerd”)

- Steph insists it has the best looking Pizza in any movie ever

“LOOK AT IT”

“We’re looking steph”

“LOOK HARDER”

Pixar lightning round

- Toy Story

- It’s been banned at Wayne Manor

- Not because they don’t like it

- But because Jason objects to Randy Newman

- And Dick attempts even MORE death-defying stunts on Patrol, claiming he’s “falling with style”

- A bug’s life

- Dick likes it, it reminds him of the circus,

- but other than that none of them really care too much about it

- Toy Story 2

- Often referenced whenever a family member breaks their arm (”NOW I CAN’T GO TO COWBOY CAMP”

- Jason says “Hey look, it’s bruce” every time zurg is on screen and Bruce is sick of it

- Once, an argument broke out during ‘When she loved me’

- “Oh, Sarah McLachlan”

- “Who?”

- “The one singing - she does those stupid ASPCA commercials”

- “Stupid? It is advertising to aid animals subjected to cruelty. You’re the stupid one.”

- “Brat, shut up, it’s a commercial.”

- “Do you support animal cruelty?”

- “What?! I-”

- “Go ahead, take it out on me. I am glad Alfred and Titus are not here as I know they would be your primary target, monster.”

- So they’ve stopped watching the movie

- Monsters inc.

- Jason always wants to watch it

- he used to love watching it with Roy (who, unbeknownst to anyone except Jason and Kori) would cry at the ending thinking of Lian

- It’s also just hilarious

- Finding Nemo

- They think it’ll teach Bruce to be less overprotective

- They were wrong

- He hovers even more

- Which prompts steph to walk up to a warehouse on a mission yelling “look at me, i’m gonna go touch the butt”

- when Gil came on screen someone said “look, it’s deathstroke” which prompted a chuckle out of everyone

-The Incredibles;

-They all recognize the irony of a superhero family movie, but enjoy it nonetheless

- Once, Jason pointed out how similar Syndrome’s origin story was to Tim

- everyone was a little rattled, and were grateful Tim decided to persist to good

-Cars

- “Wow”

- “WOW”

- “wow”

-Ratatouille

- Tim and Barbara both love it

- They admire the work being done almost methodically

- Jason and Alfred enjoy the cooking in the movie, as they are both avid chefs

- Damian also admires the film, though he called the plot “ludicrous” he likes the music

- They have to force Dick out of the destroyed kitchen as he yells “anyone can cook!” the next day

- Wall-E

- Cass loves this one - especially as it’s mostly told through body language

-It inspires Tim to start a new ‘Go green’ wayne manor initiative

- Damian will watch the first half but insists the movie loses its quality when the humans arrive

- Up

- Damian wants a talking dog

- Dick’s favorite pixar movie, probably

- He loves the beginning, and the soundtrack, and the house flying, and Ellie

- Once Tim got him a grape soda pin and he wore it for weeks

- Brave;

-They tease Dick more (redhead)

- The girls love it

- At least one person tries to do a scottish accent with every viewing

- Inside Out

- Dick was sobbing by the end

- Cause this mans does nothing but bottle up all emotions other than joy

- For the people around him

- He gets the support from his family that Riley gets and suddenly everyone’s emotional (as emotional as Bats can be, I suppose)

- Coco

- Jason sings remember me in spanish often when he thinks no one is around

- They watch it on Halloween and Jason laments how young him probably would have gone as Miguel for halloween with the hoodie his mom gave him; however it wouldn’t fit now

- throwing him a Dia De los Muertos celebration (yes Jason is latino fight me)

- He appreciates it, begrudgingly, but gets emotional when he finds a new red hoodie up in his room, not knowing who its from

- It becomes his new favorite pixar movie

______ If you have more movie ideas please let me know because i’m loving doing this

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scaryscarecrows · 4 years

Text

Bat-recs

Y’know, for fun! Add your favorites; we were all new to this hell at some point, maybe this could be useful for someone.

Batman: Gothic

This was actually the second one I bought; it came across my table when I volunteered at a used library books organization. Two bucks. Immortal murderer? Haunted underwater monastery? Generally freaky? Sign me up! NOT RECOMMENDED FOR THE WEE BABES, we got child murder, mentions of sexual assaults, and a literal head in the trash can. Poor Bruce. This story put him through the absolute wringer and I want to hug him.

The Cult

Also freaky! Bane says he broke Batman. Bane broke Batman a few years LATER; Blackfire...jeeze, man. (So far, two for two on the whole ‘immortal evil religious figure’. Hm.) Psychological horror out to HERE, and there’s a couple of pages that just WORK so WELL, when Robin!Jason finally finds poor Bruce. Also not for children, here there be a lotta bodies. And rats. And Bruce being...uh...well, we don’t need to talk about that now.

Scarecrow Year One

MY FIRST AND FAVORITE. (Ahh, evil religious individual! But not immortal this time.) Jonathan Crane’s backstory-one of them-with bonus Batdad content. Sean Murphy's sketchy artwork works really, really well for, well, Scarecrow, and Baby Crane is a little cutie. Protect him at all costs. Eh, if you or your kid’s a frightened type, the swarms of attacking crows might be a bit much, but there’s no corpse-stacks or child murder this time.

Li’l Gotham

Tired of everything hurting? Say no more. Tooth-rotting fluff is HERE. Batfamily getting along. Damian loves his mom and she loves him back and I am HAPPY ABOUT IT. This is what you’d think DC is like all the time, based on fic. Worth having for when they inevitably ruin something else. The same team has since done Once Upon a Crime, which is also precious.

White Knight

Did I see ‘Sean Murphy’ and smash the preorder? Yeah. Do I decree that this Ivy design is the best Ivy? Yeah. Elseworlds/Black Label, so he’s free to deconstruct Batman...and Batman’s proclivity for destroying Gotham in the pursuit of one asshole. (I feel a little called out, given my driving in Arkham Knight.) Has a sequel, and I’m waiting for the TP, but I’m sure I’ll love it just the same. Harley’s looking good here, guys; she is taking no shit AND she’s not being treated as a bimbo. She has brains and she’s not afraid to use them! Eh, mild nudity and violence, but barring Jason Todd’s standard woes, I’d rate it about the same as SYO in terms of ‘will this traumatize my kid?’

Under the Red Hood

1) No kids. There’s a bag o’ severed heads lovingly detailed like, five pages in. Red Hood ain’t Batman, a fact that he would like to make very clear.

2) THE SASS. THE SAAAAAAASS. EVERYBODY IS A SNARKY BASTARD AND I LOVE IT ALL. Well, almost all. I will grant that the animated film fixed my one big grievance with the ending. :) Seriously, though, ‘oh, my goodness gracious! I’ve been bamboozled!’ is golden and I’m WAITING for that line to make it to screen. Don’t be cowards, DC.

Haunted Knight

Everyone’s gonna rec The Long Halloween, as well they ought, but Haunted Knight-same team-is also great. Scarecrow’s design is...I’m torn between loving it and wanting to yeet it into the sun, but it works for him. This is a short story collection featuring Mad Hatter, Scarecrow, and and a Bat-ified Christmas Carol.

Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth

OKAY. This is sort of like The Long Halloween in that it’s frequently considered ‘required reading’, but I do legitimately enjoy it; it’s very, very, creepy. THIS is where the Arkham Asylum game takes a lot of its inspiration; the Rogues do not go to Batman. He goes to them. This also establishes Arkham’s history. I will say that you should pick up a newer edition with the annotated script included (most of them have it now) because there’s a LOT of symbolism in the art that you might miss, and knowing it really adds to the experience. I’d totally teach this in a psych class, though. Or an English class. It’s great. Bonus for everybody having their own style of dialogue: Joker does not have speech bubbles, for instance, Bruce is black and white. Really gives you an idea of how they talk. It’s also nice that most of the Gallery gets some page time, even if they don’t talk; Scarecrow, for instance, has no dialogue, but he doesn’t need it. His presence is enough. Hard R-rating for scary images and implied childhood sexual abuse.

The Animated Series

Yup. Start here. START. HERE. Every major rogue (and several obscure ones) gets an episode in the limelight, Bruce is at his absolute best-that perfect combo of ‘gettin’ real tired of your shit, Villain of the Week’ and the compassion that’s gone missing lately-Harley looks great (and, y’know, LIKE A HARLEQUIN), and although it is kid-friendly, it doesn’t treat the viewer like a kid, so you can enjoy it as an adult. (You’re a lying liar who lies if Baby Doll’s episodes didn’t make you teary-eyed. It’s okay. There’s no shame to be had.) Bonus: Dick Grayson is a little ray of sunshine compared to Batman, but that’s not all he is and the writers remembered that. :) And, well...

Iconic.

The Arkham Series

These are almost the animated series for a more mature audience (complete with a lot of the same voice casting!); murder is now allowed to be confirmed. If you’re intimidated by the comics, this is also a good place to start. Again, all the major rogues and a few lesser-knowns get some time to shine, the characterization is working (Bruce is not here for Joker’s shit, but he can still take a minute to calm down a panicking guard), and yeah, I love the designs.

Look at my baby. THAT is legitimately frightening. 10/10, would run from again. Bonus: not only do we get Alfred, we get three whole Robins AND Oracle. That said, while the games give you PLENTY of options to go ‘I’m Batman’, Bruce takes almost none of them, so you have to do it. You gotta. It’s the law.

EDITED TO INCLUDE

Gotham County Line

Batman deals with the psychological guilt of not being able to save everyone, and there are...zombies. Sort of. Amazingly, Scarecrow is nowhere to be seen, yet Bruce does admit, straight-up, ‘I’m afraid’. Me too, Bruce. Me, too.

10/10 for creep factor here. I went into this unaware it was possible to be scared of Alfred. It is. It is possible. I am a changed woman now. Nothing really...comes of it...but I swear, I turned the page, and this was waiting for me:

Mommy...

Also unsettling; the hanged man in general. A+ unsettling artwork, I’m sure that guy will haunt me. Added bonus: Zombie Robin Jason popping in to save Bruce’s bacon, because he is a good boy, and Zombie Waynes being proud parents. I did not expect the Feels Crowbar...but it was a nice surprise.

#bat-recs #these are my personal favorites #the ones I'd definitely grab if my house was on fire or something #batman

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Robin’s Requirement’s Chapter 1 / 2

In which Bruce is not okay, Jason is dead and Robin #3 is magic, literally.

He woke up to pain. Ants crawled over his back, nails dug into his wounds, and the weight of the sky pressed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. Bruce supposed it said a lot about himself that he didn’t even bother to look at the time or the bottle he picked up from the nightstand before a handful of pills disappeared down his throat. His bedroom was light already. By Bruce’s estimation, it was around eleven, maybe even twelve.

He’d been out late last night, hunting down what he thought might be Scarecrow’s new supply chain and he hadn’t been back in the Cave before six or so. He hadn’t been anywhere close conscious when the Batmobile had arrived home. Alfred must have gotten him out of the suit and into his bed.

Bruce couldn’t even recall the last time he hadn’t just fallen asleep in the Cave’s med bay. It was just more practical. Why bother going upstairs (going past that room) when Bruce could also just stay in the Cave. Alfred brought him food and everything else Batman needed was down there either way. He had no use for the life upstairs.

The painkillers kicked in.

It didn’t get easier to breathe.

Atlas’s burden didn’t lessen.

Bruce sat up and observed his surroundings. He was still in the manor, that much he could tell from the view out of the window, but he wasn’t in his bedroom.

Going by the clear view Bruce had of the pool, he was in a room on the west side, the other side of the manor. Getting him here while he was unconscious must have been a lot of work, it was a much longer walk from the Cave to the west side.

Alfred should have just left him downstairs.

Bruce pushed the soft blanket off himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He had to hand it to Alfred, he’d prepared the good stuff for him. Last night’s beating had been harsh and Alfred usually disapproved of Bruce taking their experimental pain killers with his other meds, but there was no other way Bruce could keep going. He had to move forward for as long as he could until his body finally gave out and Bruce was allowed to go.

Bruce stood up and used the bedpost to catch his balance. He remained like that for a couple minutes, or so it felt, then headed for the chair standing next to his bed and picked up the red bathrobe hanging from the back of the chair. Slowly he put it on, keen on not aggravating his wounds any further. He might not be able to feel the pain anymore, but that didn’t mean his injuries wouldn’t let him bleed out.

His bandages were still a pristine white at least, no blood sickering through. Bruce walked over to the door. If he remembered last night’s investigation completely, Scarecrow would meet his new benefactors tonight at the docks. Bruce should check the place out beforehand, bug it too maybe. He used to be faster than this. Tracking down a villain, especially Scarecrow, had never taken as long as it did this time. Perhaps he should force the Arkham staff to chip their inmates, it would undoubtedly make life easier for everyone involved.

Bruce reached for the door handle, only to pull back his hand in the last moment as the door opened and he came face to face with Alfred, who was carrying a tray with a breakfast in one hand and a suit with the other.

“Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted, pushing past Bruce into the room, acting completely oblivious to the fact that Bruce had been attempting to leave.

It would be one of those days then.

Scowling, Bruce stood at the entrance, refusing to move. He had crucial matters to tend to, he couldn’t indulge Alfred now, but he wasn’t about to storm out of the room like an upset teenager throwing a tantrum.

“I’ve prepared a light breakfast for you. Peppermint tea and vegetable soup. You will finish this bowl and then get dressed.”

Alfred set the tray on the small table and put the suit - the Brioni. Bruce didn’t know what for. He hadn’t worn a suit in half a year, maybe longer.

“I’m not going out today, Alfred,” Bruce said. “I have a case.”

“You always have a case,” Alfred replied, a sharp edge to his voice.

Bruce narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “So? They’re important.”

“Beating a group of men so badly they could die on the way to the hospital is important? The morning papers sure had some interesting things to say about that.”

Bruce could feel the fires simmering beneath his skin. Alfred didn’t know, he hadn’t been there, hadn’t had to witness-

“They didn’t die. And you didn’t hear what they were planning to do to that kid,” Bruce replied.

“No, I did not, but I believe I know you and you are not doing yourself a favor spending twenty-four hours a day dressed as a bat.”

“You don’t understand, I-”

“Nearly flatlined thrice beneath my hands yesterday. Had you arrived at the Cave even just a second later, you would have been dead. I made a promise to your parents. You wouldn’t die on my watch and I refuse to support any matter that gets you killed any longer.”

At the end of his speech, Alfred was breathing heavily. His words echoed in Bruce’s mind.

Flatlined.

You would have been dead.

All of it would have been over. Just like that. No more fighting, no more struggles, no more nightmares, he’d just-

“The board of Wayne Enterprises is holding a meeting concerning the plans to begin rebuilding the Narrows,” Alfred continued. His breathing evened. “Many of your board members oppose it, and as the acting head of the company, you should attend if you want a say in how the project goes. Lucius is already busy discussing the Kane Chemical deal in Metropolis.”

With those words, Alfred turned around, marching out of the room and leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts.

Bruce hadn’t been to WE in a while. Lucius had it handled. He did well, negotiating contracts and deals and kicking out a whole lot of ignorant people and hiring some of the recent college graduates. Bruce had kept an eye on things, somewhat. He trusted Lucius, and besides, if he didn’t have to look after WE, he had more time to spend on the streets.

But the Narrows… That project had been going on ever since Bruce had taken over the company. It never moved forward because so many who could afford to live well protested against it.

Bruce sighed and sat down at the table. It was just one meeting, he could do it. Use the time to re-energize at the office so he’d be prepared for tonight. Bruce reached for the spoon and began to eat the soup.

It tasted like cardboard.

His plan had been to get in and out of the building as fast as possible using the back entrance and private elevator, but that didn’t work out. Someone spotted him in the garage and within minutes the whole office knew that Bruce Wayne had shown his face in public for the first time since the-

In a while.

The elevator had been full of over-eager people, all trying to subtly catch a glance of Bruce Wayne, hoping to discover which online article had managed to grasp Bruce’s character the best.

They’d see a non-interested man typing away on his phone, dressed in an elegant suit wearing shoes worth more than their salary, a Rolex watch, and a high color hiding away anything scandalous or exciting.

A secret affair, the newspaper would scream in the morning. Out all night partying again!

And if someone in heels managed to spot the make-up he had put on, they’d expect a hickey.

Nobody would think of bruises and stab wounds, ribs showing through.

Bruce Wayne, the ideal man.

Batman wanted to kill him.

He was glad when the elevator pinged and Bruce could finally escape the awkward space. The meeting had started ten minutes ago, so he was late, but not outlandishly so. It wasn’t like the board wasn’t already used to Bruce never being on time. The past decade had been filled with hasty emails, changing schedules, running into meetings late or having to leave early because he had to go to school for-

His office was on the same floor as the conference room. He passed it, and his secretary Caroline’s desk. The red-haired woman looked up in surprise when she saw him, but didn’t move from her spot.

He’d gotten plenty of cards in the past, but Caroline’s was one of the few he had actually bothered to read and reply to. Usually, her daughter would be sitting beside her right now, coloring in her art book, but Monica had started school in September.

Bruce nodded at Caroline, then moved towards the conference room. He opened the glass door and was greeted by the sight of Lucius looking one more sentence away from jumping straight out of the window.

“-and it’s not like anything worthwhile ever gets out of the Narrows!”

Sharp nails dug into the palm of his hands. Bruce wanted to throw a punch, make something, maybe even himself, bleed. He shouldn’t have come.

“Nothing worthwhile.”

The words were out of Bruce’s mouth faster than he could think. The noise made all heads turn to him, surprised faces stared at the man caught in-between the entrance.

“Mr. Wayne!” Gerry Thipson startled and immediately began to sweat.

Good.

He must be aware of how out of line his comment had been.

“We weren’t expecting you,” Thipson continued, glancing at his fellow board members.

“The funding of this project is very dear to me,” Bruce said and closed the door behind himself.

The seat at the end of the table was left vacant, Bruce’s usual absence even more present. Bruce purposefully took his time getting there, enjoying how Thipson started to shrink in his own seat.

“Never mind its importance for our city. Wayne Enterprises has always worked to improve every part of Gotham - and the Narrows need it more than every other part.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair and folded his fingers together.

“The district is criminally underfunded, the schools hardly have enough money to pay the teachers, never mind buy equipment for the students. If we’re not going to change anything, nobody will, and we’ll lose even more bright lights in those streets. Or do you think differently, Mr. Thipson?”

Thipson sat up straight as if he had heard his name at roll call.

“Of course not, Mr. Wayne. But the numbers-”

Bruce stared at Thipson. Numbers. Really.

Did he know how many homeless lived on those streets? How many children had to skip school. How many had died-

“Wayne Enterprises is a transnational cooperation that can afford to pay us quite handsomely and I certainly don’t need another yacht this year if it means getting a handful of kids through High School, or do you?”

There existed no word capable of grasping how much Bruce wanted Thipson to say another word disagreeing with Bruce. He itched for a confrontation, for a fight. But Thipson and all the other board members stayed silent, some of them smiling while the majority was carrying their rage on the tip of their tongues.

Trash.

Maybe Bruce should show up at WE more often again. Just often enough that he could chase these people out of his company, out of Gotham.

“I thought so. Well, then, Lucius, how far are we actually with the Narrows Project?”

Lucius being looking through his papers, handing a couple of them to Bruce. The man’s brown eyes lingered on Bruce’s frame and for all his exhaustion, he looked relieved.

“We started with purchasing all the abandoned buildings down Napier street, but we haven’t started tearing them down yet.”

Lucius kept going, and every disgruntled sigh was met with a glare. Bruce would pay closer attention now to the people he had hired. He was well aware of what a mighty opponent greed and hubris were (and how much you pay for it) and he wouldn’t let it continue where he could and should prevent it.

By the time Bruce returned home, the afternoon had already come and gone, as, despite summer’s long-lasting heat and days, autumn quickly made itself known with its early evenings and cold. He had loosened his tie in the car and thrown his jacket on the passenger seat. The pain killers had worn off halfway through the meeting and Bruce was fairly sure he was bleeding through his bandages.

He parked the car in the garage and made his way up to the Cave entrance. He could redo his stitches and bandages by himself and he really didn’t feel like entering the manor again. Today’s trip to the office had been more than enough. Alfred was undoubtedly preparing dinner already. He’d have to eat it by himself, Bruce didn’t think he could stomach it. Nausea had been flaring up every once in a while and only water and herbal tea had actually stayed down.

At the touch of a button, a strategically placed bookcase opened to reveal a hidden passage. The manor had many of these secret paths built into it. His father used to tell him that they had been constructed for emergency evacuations or swift servants that shouldn’t be seen. It had been easy enough to add another entrance to the Cave to these passages.

Bruce rarely took the main entrance to the Cave nowadays. It was ridiculous anyway, sliding down a pole like a child.

As usual, the Cave lit up as soon as Bruce stepped inside and all electronics powered up. It didn’t take them longer than one uniform change to be up and running. Time, Bruce knew, was essential. One second too slow and you watch your life-

Bruce headed for the med bay. He took off his shirt and while the bandages were still a neat white at the outermost layer, taking that off revealed red fabric. With iron discipline, Bruce unwrapped his whole torso and then used the bandages to put pressure on the bleeding wound as he fetched himself needle and thread. Combined with another dose of painkillers, sewing the wound shut was much easier than going to WE today. Bruce examined the wound below his ribs and scowled. It would most likely scar and he wasn’t sure he had the patience to deal with Alfred’s disapproval once he noticed.

Once he was finished treating himself, Bruce took his seat in front of the computer, reviewing the information he had gathered in the past weeks. He already knew the deal would go down at the docks tonight, but he’d been unable to pin down which one of Scarecrow’s minions would be there for the exchange. They were all probably on the other end of seriously dangerous. Scarecrow hadn’t been out of Arkham for long, which meant he hadn’t had the time to train his minions properly or earn enough cash selling his Fear Toxin to Gotham’s underground. All his hired goons were going to be too scared of Scarecrow turning on him to actually risk their lives for the job.

Bruce continued researching the meeting place, relistening to the audio files he had acquired while getting stabbed in the ribs. He replayed them once, twice, and nearly a third time, but his common sense stopped him. There was only so much you could gather from such a short exchange as he had listened to.

Satisfied with his gathered intel, though it would have been significantly better if he had gone out this morning too, Bruce headed for his suits. He walked past the Case and for the first time since he had put it up, he didn’t freeze up but could continue his path.

It felt like progress, or something similar enough to it.

He did a quick inventory for his utility belt, restocking batarangs and knock out gas, then changed into his suit and got into the Batmobile. Out of his rear window, he could see Alfred entering the Cave.

Bruce didn’t stay long enough to see what kind of expression the butler made.

Batman left the Batmobile parked down at the shores of one of the rivers running through the city. It was hard to spot it there, but the car could still reach him fast enough if needed. He had another two hours left before the deal went down, which gave him enough time for another small patrol.

The City Hall district was known for its white-collar crimes, nothing Batman could really reach with his fists. Nevertheless, it was never as silent as tonight. It made Batman frown, discontent settled deeply in his chest. Gotham was never silent or calm or peaceful. This ugly city couldn’t rest, not even for a night and yet…

There was something in the air Batman couldn’t pinpoint and it put him on edge.

As the time of the deal drew closer, Batman crossed the rooftops over to the docks, checking out the area. After checking that nobody interesting was lingering outside of the warehouses, Batman began heading for the right one.

The hired goons he had spied on had said they’d meet up at the very end of the long strip, in one of the warehouses the big families used to cover up their drugs. Scarecrow didn’t usually deal with the crime families, choosing to pick less dangerous targets. He must have been desperate for money. Finding a way into the building was easier than Batman had expected, so he searched for a strategically smart place to sit and wait.

It took roughly an hour before anyone showed up. Expensive suit, cheap cigarettes, and slicked back black hair - Maroni’s youngest, his friends carrying two bags. Money, it had to be.

Maroni didn’t work with any of Gotham’s proper villains. He regarded them as rude annoyances with no honor to speak of. This must be a solo trip of the youngest then - was he trying to steal his older brother’s spot as the heir or establish his own leverage?

Batman didn’t have to wait for long for the next group to arrive. As expected, Scarecrow didn’t show up with many people, merely two guards wearing gas masks.

“Scarecrow,” Maroni began to speak. “I thought we had an agreement.”

“We did,” Jonathan Crane replied. “I’m just not going to stick to it. Now!”

Far quicker than Maroni’s boys could raise their guns, Scarecrow’s men threw modified smoke bombs their way, releasing the fear gas.

Batman put on his rebreather, covering his mouth, and jumped down from his hiding spot. Maroni began to scream once they spotted him. They still had their guns and it was too late to neutralize the effects of the gas, he had to work quickly.

Batman rushed in, grabbing the first one and breaking his arm. His gun dropped to the ground. Then he reached for the next one, shattered hand. Number three he knocked out with a punch to his right temple. Maroni himself he pushed to the ground face first, kicking away his gun in one swift move.

“Batman! Get him!”

Scarecrow’s men both jumped Batman at the same time, far too skilled for random street thugs. Maybe Scarecrow had had more cash hidden than Batman had assumed.

The Rogue in question, meanwhile, was getting away with the cash.

Batman snarled, but he couldn’t shake the two attackers away quickly enough. He’d lose Scarecrow and there was no telling what he’d do with so much cash.

Then, red blurred at the corner of Bruce’s eyes and something threw itself at Scarecrow. The man crashed to the ground, money going flying.

He tried to get up again but was stopped by a kid, dressed like a traffic light, jumping on his back.

His rebreather must have stopped working, Bruce thought. He’d inhaled some of the gas, he must have.

“You- you’re- You’re dead!” Scarecrow screeched. “The Clown said so! Who are you?”

The kid shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way.

“The name’s Robin,” the kid said with Dick’s smirk and Jason’s accent. Bruce felt ice crawl up his veins. “Always has been, Straw man.”

He was going to throw up.

#dc #dc comics #lego batman #bruce wayne #tim drake #Alfred Pennyworth #fanfic #robin's requirements

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bluerene · 5 years

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RobStar Week #1 - Wayne Manor

Hello friends. Please allow me to quickly and suddenly resurrect my online presence with a week of robstar goodness, followed by an onslaught of miscellaneous content + a loooot of fics that should’ve been published ages ago. The bitch is back! She is also about to board a plane and has not proofread this one bit, so please excuse the ugly errors.

As always, feedback is loved.

Enjoy!

Wayne Manor (ft. implied BatCat justice bc it’s what we deserved)

It had been twenty-two years in the making, but finally, the day had come.

Dick tugged at the collar of his suit and huffed, tilting his wrist upwards to check his watch. Two hours till takeoff.

That was how he had been thinking of it anyway. The whole event felt more like a formality than anything else; marriage was just the legal definition of what they already had. Often enough, he forgot they weren’t husband and wife.

He glanced around the room and smiled; Alfred had really outdone himself this time. Dick brushed his fingers along the row of lilies that lined the entryway, admiring the splash of pink roses that stood out amid the white flora. Their saccharine smell lingered in the air as he walked on through the room, studying the impressive set-up.

They had chosen to host their wedding at Wayne Manor, which was gorgeous and private and comfortable. With graceful vaults and arches that curved into a smooth dome and made the polished marble floors gleam in the glittering sunlight, the ballroom was easily the most elegant waste of space Dick had known in his house. And, it was finally being put to use the way it deserved.

Alfred had thrown himself into preparations the moment he’d heard. Even in his old age, he was a force to be reckoned with- he had florists ready, caterers selected, a decorating committee arranged, and invitations delivered within days. Thirty-six hours before the ceremony, he had marched in with an army of specialists and had set to work on the hall.

It had been divided up in such a way that the service, reception, and dinner would all be hosted within a few feet of each other. From the thick maple doors of the entryway, she would walk in, fiercely beautiful as ever. She would make her way past the rows of chairs towards a trellis made of fine gold, twisted with flowers and leaves. Posts would be in line with its sides, thin gossamer curtains tied with ribbons from wall to wall, effectively cutting off access to the space behind. After they kissed, the entire party would pass through the curtains and into the garden, where they could immediately enjoy the reception, while the bride and groom snuck off to change into clothes better suited to dinner and dancing. At the end of the night, they would bid their goodbyes and steal away into the night as they had for the past twenty-two years.

Dick had envisioned this moment for half of his life in different ways. The bride used to change, often switching between the various women in his life at the time- but as time went on, the vision became clearer and more obvious. It could only be her. She’d always been there, a shadow flitting in and out of the window, playing with fire fearlessly.

Something probed his arm gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Does it remind you of ours?”

He smiled and drew her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her palm.

“In the best ways. Al really pulled this one together brilliantly.”

His wife sighed, intertwining their fingers.

“It is worth it. Their happy ending is long overdue.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, “it’s about time. How’s the bride looking?”

“Like a million of the dollar bills,” Kori replied cheekily, “truly, you may never have eyes for me again.”

He laughed and cupped her cheek, taking in her appearance. His eyes lingered on her full lips, the glimmer of happiness in her electric eyes, the slight pink flush that ran from her cheeks to her collarbone. Her hair had been pinned up into an intricate bun, stray curls framing her face. She was a vision in the soft gold gown Selina had asked her to wear as one of the bridesmaids.

“I don’t think I could ever have eyes for anyone other than you, beautiful.”

Kori beamed and slid her free hand to his chest, gripping the lapel of his suit jacket to pull him into a sweet kiss. Her mouth moving achingly slow against his while he fought to remind himself they were in an unconcealed, public space.

She pulled away and giggled, smoothing out the fabric she had crumpled.

“Your restraint is impressive, my love.”

“It had better be,” a deep voice resounded from behind them, “as I recall, you two are already married, so I doubt there’s much more you can do at a wedding that you haven’t done before.”

“You’d be surprised, Dad,” Dick said cheerfully, “but I’m not looking to upstage your night, so let’s leave it at that.”

“Hello k’norfka Bruce,” Kori said eagerly, hurrying to press a kiss to her father-in-law’s cheek, “you look very handsome! How are you feeling?”

Bruce patted her shoulder affectionately, a rare smile lighting up his face, “like I should have done years ago. You look lovely, by the way.”

“I was just telling Richard to reserve judgment until after the bride has arrived. Selina is truly...indescribably wonderful.”

Dick didn’t miss the dreamy look that crossed his father’s face.

“And the flower girl? As radiant as her mother?”

He didn’t miss the way his wife blushed at those words either.

“Provided she does not ruin her dress again, Mar’i will look perfect,” she replied with a sigh, glancing at the doors, “in fact, I believe it is time for me to check in on her. Please excuse me, k’norfka Bruce. Richard, I will see you before the ceremony.”

Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets and watched her leave.

“How are you feeling, Dick?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? It’s your wedding, after all.”

“It’s about time, don’t you think,” Bruce replied with a grin, “I made her wait twenty-two years.”

“I’m still amazed by that, y’know. Star and I tied the knot...what, six years after we started dating. I can’t believe it took you guys this long.”

“Well we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Only because Selina was boss enough to propose.”

“I would’ve proposed when the time came!” Bruce said indignantly.

Dick snorted, “Yeah, in 2068, when you’re too close to death to fear commitment.” He glanced around the room, gaze falling on a nearby satin pillow, “Is the ring-bearer going to show up today?”

“He’ll pitch a fit, but yes. The kid’s a fan of Selina. Plus, he misses you.”

“The devil? Inconceivable,” Dick muttered.

Bruce cuffed him on the back of the head, “He’s your brother.”

“So is Tim, but you don’t see him slicing me up in ‘training sessions’. Speaking of, where is he? Why am I the only one here?”

“Jason plans on popping in during the reception. Tim’s bringing Stephanie so he’s at her house. Alfred is with Damian.”

“That’s not what I mean. Why am I the only one here, now?”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably, and rubbed the back of his neck, ”You’re the first, you know. I’ve always held the others up to you, even when I shouldn’t have. You were a brat, but you were also my first son. I wanted you to be here for that.”

“Dad.”

“No jokes, I’m serious.”

“I am too.”

“Well...good.”

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence, eyes fixed on the rows of chairs and the trellis directly ahead.

“So…”

“Hit the bar? A couple of pre-wedding drinks?”

“Is that what Garfield and Victor did with you?”

Dick laughed as he lead his father out of the hall, “Are you kidding? They wouldn’t let me near the mini-bar. Said they would beat my ass if I was tipsy at my own wedding.”

“Clearly you’re not concerned about me.”

“Nah. First, Silena is more than capable of sobering you up with a single glance. Second, you’re Batman.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m pretty sure Kori would do the same if you’d stumbled down the aisle. That woman can pack a punch.”

“Do I detect a hint of fatherly pride there, Dad? Are you finally coming around to your daughter-in-law?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, nudging Dick with his elbow.

“Knock it off. You know I respect her and care about her. She’s a fine young woman. I couldn’t have chosen better for you if I’d tried.”

Dick softened, “I was kidding, but...thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that. She loves and admires you so much. And she tells Mar’i stories about you all the time. She won’t let me ruin your image even a little.”

“She gave you the home you needed, didn’t she?” Bruce said quietly, “Your relationship with me and this house and everything you had turned away from was different after she came into your life.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, clapping his hand on his father’s shoulder, “my home is wherever she goes. And she always seems to know what I need when I need it. That’s why she cares so much about this place.”

“I’m sorry for all the shit I gave you in the beginning, you know. I think it pushed you to be strong and decisive, but I am sorry if it hurt you.”

“Not gonna lie, I was pretty pissed for a while. But Star always understood. Always gave you the benefit of the doubt.”

“She’s a special girl.”

And Dick could have gone on about how perfect his wife was - how incomparably sweet and passionate and fiery she could be. How strongly she fought for their family. How lovingly she accepted everyone into her heart.

But he simply nodded and raised his watch to check the time, grinning at his father.

“How about that drink, old man? Push away some of those pre-wedding jitters?”

Bruce’s lips twitched in amusement, but Dick still caught the happy creases around his eyes.

“As long as Alfred doesn’t catch us, I’m game.”

“Afraid he’ll kick your ass?” Dick teased, swiftly dodging a well-aimed slap upside the head.

“It’s my wedding day, son. I get a free pass. I’m looking out for you.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Dick chuckled, “you always do.”

#its robstar week bitches #the tags vanished when i posted this idk #selina kyle #bruce way #dick grayson #koriandr #robstar #batcat #batman #catwoman #robin #starfire #blue writes #blue is exhausted

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nightwingwhatdidisay · 5 years

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“it goes like this”

Here’s my contribution to RobStar Week Day 6: Children (which is more like a cameo hehe)

Summary: they’ve got superpowers, and you’re not talking about starbolts or ancient incantations

(Or: a look into Nightwing’s train of thought)

ao3 version ~ ff.net version ~

A/N: I’ve been taking these prompts pretty loosely and I hope that’s alright with everyone. Also it’s definitely RobStar but note that this fic covers a lot of ground with Robin and the other Titans so if that’s not your thing then by all means I’ll see you on day 7 for some classic RxS fluff

It goes like this.

The morning light ebbs and flows through her hair like waves of fire, and you wonder how you got on with life before she started sleeping in your room, because waking up to this—a glorious configuration of golden skin and red hair and bright green eyes tangled in the sheets—seems like the only correct way to start the day. Her hand snakes out of the blanket and she runs her thumb across your jaw. There are fifty emotions on her face, and because you’ve been with her for some time now, you know she’s about to tell you something sad, and intimate, and honest.

“I believe leaving Tamaran was the worst thing to happen to me.”

That’s a new one.

“Really?”

She nods. “Because it was home. And now I’m here and Earth is home. I can no longer be in either place without missing the other. I fear I am going to spend the rest of my life in a state of yearning, regardless of where I am.”

This is a dilemma because you can’t relate. There’s no “yearning” going on when you think of where you grew up. Gotham is more of a ghost you can’t shake off than it is anything else. But then Kory takes your fingers and brings it up to her lips, and you’re reminded that right now she’s not looking for someone with answers. She’s looking for you, here, sharing the same pillow and breathing the same air while she chips at raw, unorganized thoughts bit by bit. For her this is good enough, and she deserves more than good enough but it’s only morning so there’s time to make it up to her.

And that’s important because Kory’s kind of the most beautiful thing in your life right now and it has nothing to do with her face or her body and everything to do with the life force thrumming inside her, pure and ferocious, and her vulnerabilities and her trust and her kindness that have all miraculously stayed alive despite everything she’s been through. They’re the foundations of the safe house you’ve been building for yourself inside of her.

You’ll have to get out of bed eventually. You both do. You have a team to lead and she’s got to play her part in it. But for now, you give yourself a pass to be selfish, and you cup her face into your hands and you kiss her so deeply you don’t even know who is breathing for whom. And that’s how you let your day begin.

Sometimes you can’t even stand to look at him.

But you’d rather Garfield not know that, because it’s not his fault. So you take the mug of coffee he’s offering you like it’s no big deal and you lean back against the counter, pretending the way he hums commercial tunes while reading the back of the cereal box doesn’t make your heart ache.

You’ve maneuvered the big brother thing with Jason and Tim in the same style Bruce maneuvered fatherhood with you: with an awkwardness beyond measure and heaps of crippling self-doubt and a whole lot of mistakes to seal the deal. So sometimes Garfield terrifies you. Because there’s a brotherhood going on and you rank on his list of role models, and you just don’t want to fuck it up. You’ve seen what it’s like to have a kid so lost and disturbed it got it himself killed. Or the way grief can come down on everyone like a grenade. You know guilt in all its shiny forms, and the insidious way it unravels you with thoughts of what you should have said and what you could have done to keep that boy alive.

Garfield is nothing like Jason. But you’re not really interested in taking any chances. Because behind a screen of lame jokes and false bravado is someone who’s had a childhood much tougher than he lets on. Gar’s got the concealment of pain thing down. And if his powers have taught him anything, it’s how to adapt, how to get from one form to another in order to survive. That’s resiliency, and Garfield’s got it in spades.

He’s growing into something spectacular, and just please, please don’t fuck it up, Dick. Because you’re tired of lost potential, and you know you won’t claw your way out of darkness if it happens a second time.

Gar’s reading the nutritional value of Fruity-O’s on the side of the box and you can’t stop thinking how decent he is. There’s a leader inside him, he doesn’t even realize it yet. You’ve been waiting for the right time to start a new type of discussion with Gar, one about change and the future of the team and your intentions of making him a bigger part of it. Maybe the right time is today. So you stand there, rehearsing it in your mind.

“Dude, you ever wonder how calorically dense a booger is?”

Maybe not today.

Raven’s got hawkeye vision because there is no other reason for you two to be sitting this far away from the mark. The distance is the span of the whole food court and the little girl looks like a tiny blip in a sea of Jump City consumers.

The mall as the venue is your idea, because it’s best to not make a scene, but you’ve tagged along in case things go sour since you never want Raven to be dealing with shit alone. Maybe it’s because she’s been inside your head, or because she’s got the bases covered with father issues and toxic vices and you can both struggle together, but for whatever reason, Raven knows you better than anybody. Better than Bruce and Alfred and Babs and Donna. Even better than Kory.

Maybe it works both ways, because you know what she’s thinking right now.

“They start them young, don’t they?”

The mark is barely a teenager, with a gaunt face and empty eyes and she’s scrawny and pale in a way she shouldn’t be. And there’s a story somewhere but all you need to know is that the system thoroughly failed her, and when people are that desperate and alone and marginalized, they tend to seek salvation in darker places.

Like a Trigonic cult, and Raven’s committed to not having that happen.

Because it’s against the rules of Raven to believe there’s nothing you can do to help those who’ve spiraled into darkness. Raven believes everyone—everyone—is redeemable. And here’s where Gotham rears its ugly head and mucks it all up for you, because you don’t know if you agree. You think you’ve seen irretrievable people before. But Raven’s got a faith in humanity so fierce it can shake your own beliefs and that’s also why you’ve tagged along. Because you want a revelation.

Raven looks at you. “Do you think people notice when I’m around?”

“I notice when you’re not. Does that count?”

“What if I’m not enough to change her mind?”

“Let’s find out.”

You see it well up in her face, the self-doubt. And suddenly she’s rambling to you in a quiet voice about how maybe she‘s not the right person for the job. It should be you. It should be Starfire. It should be someone with an actual joy for life to sell and I can’t do it, Nightwing and I’m too unengaging and Why do I feel like something’s missing in my life without you guys and you guys don’t feel the same about me? and Everything’s swirling away and I’m swirling apart—

Raven’s getting a little hysterical, so you grab her hand.

“I think it’s about time you save that girl.”

She takes the first step forward. And you’re mentally throwing all the strength you have at her. Raven doesn’t realize how much you’ve made her well-being a priority in your life. That you had secretly vowed long ago to keep her around forever.

The team is sitting on a gold mine with this guy and it’s like nobody notices but you.

The end of the day hits and Cy’s got the foresight to wrangle you all up into the T-mobile, and before you know it you’re at the pier, watching Kory explain to the children on line for the cotton candy vendor not to be startled if it disappears in their mouths. Garfield’s got Raven by the arm, dragging her towards the Tunnel of Love with a sadistic gleam in his eye, and you just take it all in, amused out of your mind to witness Cyborg dip into the booth of a very, very pretty fortune teller.

Cyborg’s ironically the most human out of all of you, because he doesn’t forget to relax and if he sees you neglecting yourself he’ll shove relaxation down your throat as well, because he’s a no-man-left-behind kind of guy. Cy’s way passed dealing with his pain and that’s what makes him a success story. Maybe one day you’ll get there too.

Cyborg leaves the booth with a smug smile and the fortune teller’s number. He walks towards you, giving a subtle gesture of victory and you go in for the fist bump, grinning ear to ear. “Please don’t tell me you gave her the ‘I see your future and it’s me’ spiel.”

Cyborg looks at you like you’re not making any sense, and points to himself. “Look at me. You think I need a pick up line with shoulders like these?”

You can’t get enough of him. Of any of them. Because they’ve got superpowers, and you’re not talking about starbolts or ancient incantations. You’re talking about Starfire’s kindness and Garfield’s resiliency and Raven’s faith and Cy’s confidence and you know you’ve got to deliver too. You’ve got to make all this worth it for them. Because for some godforsaken reason the universe sent you a family you don’t deserve and you have no intention of giving it up anytime soon.

Starfire runs up and kisses you. She tastes like cotton candy, and you realize you finally have an answer for her. You want to tell her to stop seeing home as a place, and start seeing it as a group of people who have her heart. That way, no matter where everyone ends up in the future, every stretch of space between one loved one and another won’t seem so terrifying.

A few years ago you came to this city because you were running away from something. And look at you now, drawn in like a magnet.

You breath in rhythm with all of them, and it’s kind of everything.

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