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candlemouse · 7 hours ago

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Chapter Seven! Steph throws Tim a baby daddy reveal party <3

Tim Drake’s Guide to Post-Mortem IVF and the Consequences of Teenage Parenthood

Gen; currently 11k words, 3/? chapters

Tim accidentally creates a baby out of his and Kon’s DNA in grief. He keeps this a secret until he can’t, and then pivots onto the story that he’s “babysitting.” With a family full of detectives, it’s a story unlikely to last.

Read on Ao3! Excerpt under the cut

Look, Tim hadn’t wanted to become a father at seventeen. It had just kind of…happened. One moment he was trying to clone his boyfriend back from his death in some grief fugue state, the next he was slumped over the test tubes crying about said boyfriend, and then by some act of providence, his tears and Kon’s DNA had mixed to create the beautiful baby girl he was currently rocking to sleep.

Lila had Kon’s curly black hair and his bright shade of blue eyes, but the rest of her features—nose, mouth, chin—mirrored Tim. Not like a clone, because she really wasn’t a clone. Kon wasn’t either. A true clone would just be one person’s exact DNA. Lila had both Tim and Kon’s DNA, and it mixed together in the normal way it should.

If anything she was simply a test tube baby with extra steps. Post-mortem IVF.

Even though she was an accident, Tim had fallen in love immediately. First off, she was the only experiment that worked, and he had run out of DNA. So, she was the only thing he had left of Kon.

With Bruce gone, it was a bad time to have a baby, but eventually, the crisis settled. With Tam’s help, he cared for and kept Lila a secret while following clues and dealing with the League and the Council of Spiders. He found Bruce, yanked him out of the time stream, and got to say I told you so to everyone.

But, Kon stayed dead.

And everything was still so up in the air, Tim didn’t feel like it was the time to drop the bomb that he had whipped up a baby with his dead boyfriend’s DNA and was now a teen dad (a boyfriend they never really even knew about—because they didn’t even know he liked boys).

And without Kon here…Tim didn’t really want anyone to know. Because he wanted to share the news of the baby with Kon first. Which was fucking stupid because he was dead, but Tim had a hard time with the irrationality of grief.

Even Tam didn’t know the parentage of the baby, because of this stupid mental block that Tim had. She only knew that it was of the utmost importance to keep the baby hidden and safe. And once they had returned to Gotham, Tim told Tam he had returned the baby back to her parents so Tam wouldn’t worry or ask more questions.

Before telling anyone about Lila, Tim needed to wait for Kon to come back—or for his mind to accept that Kon was never going to. Whatever came first.

Unfortunately, two months since returning to Gotham, neither had arrived and so Tim still hadn’t told the bats. He barely showed up to the cave, and limited his Red Robin outings. (Thankfully, by the time they returned to Gotham, Lila had started sleeping through the night. But, he still had a baby monitor in his utility belt and a constant feed of sound, so he could run back whenever she needed something.)

He still sent in his case work to Bruce and he still worked for Wayne Enterprises—just from home—and it usually all worked out.

Until it didn’t.

Tim’s phone began to ring, and he fished it out of his back pocket with one hand as he continued rocking Lila back and forth. He rolled his eyes when he saw it was Bruce’s number, and slotted it in between his neck and ear so his hand was free to cradle Lila. “Hello?”

“We need you to come in to the cave,” Bruce’s voice came across gruff, halfway to his Batman register.

“Uh, no,” Tim answered. “Just send it to my computer and I can review whatever you need.”

“It’s physical evidence.”

“Take pictures.”

“Tim,” Bruce said, exasperated. A voice in the background asked after him, probably Dick.

“Look,” Tim said. “I’m busy.”

“You’ve been busy for weeks.”

“Yeah.” Tim had stopped rocking Lila in his concentration on the call, and her eyes fluttered open. Her lips pouted and her eyes glassed over. “Oh no. Can I call you back?”

“Tim? What’s—”

Lila’s loud cry cut off whatever Bruce was going to say.

“Shh,” Tim soothed, trying and failing to rock her back to calmness. “Come on.”

“Is that a baby?” Bruce asked. Excited voices joined in the background, too muffled for Tim to discern.

“Uh, yeah,” Tim said. Lila cried louder. “I’m babysitting. See, I told you I’m busy. I meant it.”

“He’s babysitting,” Bruce said, presumably in answer to the peanut gallery of vigilantes in the cave. A chorus of muffled questions rose in response and Bruce grunted. “Dick wants to know who you’re babysitting for. And for how long.”

“Well, that’s none of his business—or yours, for that matter,” Tim snapped. Lila cried more, maybe at his tone, and Tim scrambled. “Lila, sweetheart, shh. Shh, it’s okay.”

“You can bring Lila with you to the cave,” Bruce said. “Alfred can take care of her. Give you a break.”

It was a tempting offer, but there was no way Tim was about to hand her off to anyone. Even being in a different room caused his chest to tighten and his lungs to shrink. Patrol was hell enough. If he came to the manor, she would be strapped to his chest as tight as a missle.

Tim didn’t answer Bruce, focused on whispering comforting words to Lila. Bruce spoke again. “We’re having lasagna for dinner.”

Now, that paused Tim. Alfred’s lasagna? That almost made it worth it. He’d been around the manor a handful of times in the past six months, but never long enough to stay for dinner because he had needed to get home to Lila. But if he brought her this time…

Tim did need a break.

He loved Lila, but there was only so many blowouts and hours of crying he could handle before getting a little frazzled. It’s not like the bats had to learn about her parentage. He was just babysitting, to them.

“Okay,” Tim said. “I’ll be over in four hours.”

“Two,” Bruce corrected.

“Five. Or never,” Tim asserted. It would give him time to bathe her, do tummy time, second feeding, diaper change, and nap time before heading over.

Lila finally calmed down again, her cries quieting to soft whimpers. Tim pressed a kiss to her forehead, and stroked her nose to soothe her to sleep.

“Fine,” Bruce grunted. “Four.”

With that, Tim hung up.

Continue reading on Ao3 here!

#tim drake #bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #timkon clone baby au

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candlemouse · 1 day ago

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The Cue from Hell

cw: violence, death, mentions of sex + quick a/n note after the chapter is finished

summary: the daggers celebrate callie’s birthday, only for it to go horribly wrong. OR the daggers find themselves to be in a slasher movie

word count: ~5.2k

Day 1 : Trouble in Miramar

Natasha Trace sat across from Detective Kazansky, hands folded neatly in her lap while her leg bounced anxiously. Officer Kerner leaned against the door that trapped them all in the interrogation room, watching them. There was a pitcher of water and two cups that took their respective places in the middle of the table that separated the pilot and detective.

“Alright, Ms. Trace, I’ll cut to the chase. Your squadron has recently been connected to the murder case of Callie Bassett, and I’ll be honest, we don’t have enough information to pinpoint what’s happening or why the killer targeted your group specifically.” He paused to organize papers in his folder, then flicked his eyes up to meet hers. “What I want to know is if you, or any of your squad mates, have information that would be useful to us.”

Natasha shifted uncomfortably in her seat and twiddled with her thumbs. Her head was hung, eyes staring at her lap. Everything happening has weighed down on her and being the first person to be investigated was not helping in the slightest. She opened her mouth, only to shut it, struggling to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

“Ms. Trace?”

“Sorry, Mr. Kazansky,” She responded quickly, voice wavering. She glanced up to meet his gaze, it wasn’t cold, just firm. Wanting to understand. “I’m just— this whole thing is terrifying. It’s hard to wrap my head around everything. My friend was killed, detective.” She choked back tears.

“I understand, but we need your account of everything happening. I know it’s scary, but whatever information you can give us will be useful in conducting our investigation.”

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The Dagger squadron had just finished up a day at the base and have settled into the Hard Deck for drinks and some friendly competition, whether that be playing pool, darts, or hell, even a drinking game between the guys.

Hangman and Coyote were currently over at the dart board while Fanboy and Payback gathered around to play 9-ball. Rooster was oddly absent while the others went out for a dinner on their own, celebrating Halo’s birthday on their own.

Natasha handed an extra cue stick to Bob with a smile. “9-ball, Bob. Let’s rack ‘em.”

Bob hesitated, wiping off the peanuts from his seat, but happily obliged. He gently knocked his shoulder into Phoenix’s and nodded a quiet thanks.

Fanboy had just finished racking the balls as Bob took his spot at the other end of the table. Payback took the diamond from the table and haphazardly tossed it onto a nearby table. “You any good, Bobby?”

He watched Phoenix roll her eyes and pull out a quarter from her wallet. “I, uh, like to think so.” He said with a small smile.

“Alright, now on a related note, Bob, heads or tails?” Phoenix asked, to which he answered: “Tails.” She nodded and flicked the coin up into the air. Once it landed on her palm, she looked at it.

“Damn it,” she muttered. “Thought you were lucky. Payback, Fanboy, it’s your shot.”

“Hell yeah! Get ‘em up, Payback.” Fanboy whooped, patting his friend on the back. Payback returned the gesture and fist bumped his WSO.

Reuben bent over the table and slid the cue between his fingers, glancing over to Fanboy with a smirk carving itself onto his face. He didn’t say anything, but he closed an eye and drew the stick back before he sent the cue ball flying towards the number 1 ball with an effective crack.

The balls scattered and he stood back up, watching them. Fanboy was just as enamored by the sight, just waiting for one to sink. Sadly for them, none sunk. Both men’s faces fell and groaned, but conceded nonetheless.

Bob stepped back, letting Phoenix make their first shot. She rounded the table, finding a good angle to shoot from. It took a minute of quiet concentration before she leaned down, pulling the cue stick back.

“Phoenix! You didn’t invite us?” Hangman’s drawl dragged her from her thoughts, and she scowled up at him as she took her shot. “I’m wounded, really.” The clacking of resin hitting each other told her she hit her mark anyway.

“Well, you and Coyote seemed too busy with your own game to come join. Would’ve extended the invite if you seemed interested, Bagman.” Phoenix retorted, standing back up.

“Hangman.” Jake corrected.

Phoenix smiled. “Whatever.”

“We sunk one.” Bob noted, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. Natasha’s brows furrowed and her head whipped back around to count the number of balls on the table. They did in fact sink the number three ball.

“Hm, seems like y’all ain’t too bad.” Jake said, casually leaning against the side of an old jukebox, drink in hand. Bob was already lining up his shot from behind Natasha as she mirrored Jake’s position. “I can count on him to help me out… can’t say the same about you, Hangman.”

A chorus of “ooooh’s” came from Payback and Fanboy while the latter giggled like some little kid watching a drama. Coyote clapped his hands together, smile on his face trying to resolve the tension. “Alright, so uh, we’ll play whoever wins. Right, Hangman?”

“Sound’s good, Coyote.” He said, rolling the stupid toothpick between his teeth. Phoenix scoffed and turned back to see what Bob was doing. The poor man had his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth, squinting his eyes while he tried to drown out the commotion around him.

She turned back around to Hangman, glancing around the bar and crossing her arms. “Where’s your little boyfriend, Bagman? Did he get too tired of you?”

“Oh, har har, very funny Phe.” Jake’s voice was flat as he rolled his eyes. “No, we’re actually very much attached to the hip, most of the time. Roo’s jus’ not feelin’ too good.” He said, then snapped his fingers as if he just had a revelation. “Oh, did he not tell you? That’s a damn shame.”

She stared at Hangman, letting out a scoff. After Bradley and Jake got together, they entered that weird obsessive honeymoon phase and haven’t left it after two years. Finally, the crack of cue balls hitting one another resounded through their small half of the bar.

Payback sighed melodramatically, shoulders slumped. “I don’t think we’re gonna win this one, Mick.”

“Eat shit and die, Bob.” Fanboy groaned, lightly shoving the other backseat pilot. It was all in jest, but Mickey truly seemed upset. The man hated losing, apparently.

Bob chuckled, said a quiet apology, then took a sip from his Mtn. Dew. “Nat, did you want to hit?”

“Nah, you got that one.” She responded, shooting him a smile over her shoulder.

“This is so unfair, you guys shouldn’t be allowed on the same team.” Fanboy complained, sinking back into a small barstool behind him and wiping a fake tear from his cheek.

Hangman rolled his body off the jukebox, positioning himself in front of it. He inserted a couple quarters that shook loose from his wallet and punched in an old ‘70s rock song, snickering. “Maybe just get better, stop bein’ a sore loser.”

“This is why you never get invited to my parties, you eyesore...” Fanboy mumbled, petulantly. He had his arms crossed like a child who didn’t get their way. The game of 9-ball had been long forgotten when it was clear that Payback and Fanboy had no shot of winning. “Speaking of— “

Jake whipped back around, looking genuinely taken aback, almost upset. “There’s parties?”

Javy’s gaze flicked between Mickey and Jake, silent for all but two seconds before he was practically doubled over with laughter. “Oh, my god.” He had to take a moment to compose himself, but he got there. “I always thought you were too busy to come out.”

Jake’s mouth was on the floor now, “Is that why he comes home late some nights?”

Natasha had to turn away to hide her snickering. Even Bob hid his face behind his soda can. “Okay, well, apologize and I’ll think about inviting you to the one I’m hosting tonight.” Mickey stuck his tongue out and looked a bit smugger than before.

Jake scoffed stubbornly. “Absolutely not! Suck my dick, Garcia.”

“That’s reeeaaallly not sounding like an apology. Also, I don’t want RooRoo’s sloppy seconds, but thank you, though.” Fanboy shrugged with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

Jake stood there, abandoning his drink on the top of the jukebox to place his hands on his hips. Coyote nudged his side and said, “C’mon man, just apologize it’s not gonna kill you. Besides, it’s Halo’s birthday. You don’t wanna miss that.”

He stared at Coyote like he had been personally attacked, mouth gaped. “You’re a damn traitor.” Jake grumbled, lightly shoving his friend away from him but eventually turned back to Mickey. “Fine, I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm,” Mickey tapped his index finger to his chin, debating. Even though it didn’t sound convincing, it had been the first time most of them had heard Jake apologize so, “Sure, what the hell.” He yielded, jumping up from his seat to give Jake a pat on the back.

“Party’s tonight at, uh,” he checked his watch. “Nine o’clock.”

30 minutes from now.

“Shit, I gotta go get everything ready!” Mickey scurried out of the bar, weaving in and out of the different patrons, apologizing profusely. He forgot his jacket.

“I’ll just bring it to him later.” Bob mumbled, throwing the jacket over his shoulder.

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Mickey’s House

By the time nine rolled around, Harvard and Yale were already at Mickey’s helping him set up, Callie was in the living room, connecting her Bluetooth to the speaker. Everyone except Jake and Omaha were there, but he was absent from tonight’s escapades because of some vague family issue. Jake ended up showing with Bradley 15 minutes after the party got into full swing, a case of his own beer in hand along with a small present box. There were some civilians that Mickey had invited, but only a couple looked familiar to Natasha.

Snacks and drinks were messily set around a table, and she poured whatever the mixture was into a red solo cup— something sweet with a nice after burn. Music filled in the spaces where chatter couldn’t, it was loud enough to be heard but not too overbearing as to where a person had to shout over the bass.

Callie saddled up next to Natasha and knocked her shoulder into hers. Nat returned the gesture and leaned her head onto Callie’s with a small smile growing onto her face. “I know I said it this morning, but happy birthday, babe. Where’d you guys go for dinner?”

“They actually made some shòutáo at home; it was incredibly nice, honestly.” Callie said with a little flourish of her hands. “Logan and Brigham were very proud of themselves.” She chuckled.

“I bet they were.” Natasha replied, bringing her drink up to her lips.

Mickey had been making his rounds, eventually spotting the two women conversing. “Callie, Callie! I got a cake for you!” He called out to her. Once he got in front of them, he grabbed Halo by her shoulders and shook her before dragging her away. “C’mon, Phe! We’re all singin’!”

Nat could just see how red their friend’s cheeks had gotten, but she followed after, dragging Bob up along with her. Brigham had pulled this two layered cake from the fridge, trying so very hard to keep it steady until he was able to slide it off of his arms. Jake, surprisingly, had pulled Callie to the side to give her the gift. From what Natasha saw, it looked like a small jewelry box, but before she could comment on it, Mickey had already lit the candles and turned the lights off.

They sung happy birthday for Callie, cheered when she blew out the candles, and partied for a couple hours more. Bob, Reuben, Yale, and Harvard left between 10:00-10:45, then the random stragglers left around 11. Jake suggested watching Friday the 13th for the rest of the night, primarily because he and Bradley were drunk off their asses and didn’t feel like going home.

“I dunno.. I don’t really like horror.” Callie shrugged. Jake and Bradley gave her an incredulous look, even Javy chimed in. “But it’s all fake, I mean, c’mon Cals. You can’t be that scared. We fly jets for a living.”

“Okay, sure, but that’s different.” She argued.

Jake angled his body towards her in a way that Bradley wouldn’t be uncomfortable, “How? Like, honestly—“

“If she doesn’t want to watch a scary movie, we’ll put something else on. It’s not that big of a deal.” Nat said.

Bradley shrugged and put in his own two cents, “Friday the 13th isn’t even that scary, any other horror movie would be so much better.”

Halo grumbled, but threw her hands up in surrender. “Whatever, but this is because Hangman got me a really nice gift, not because you guys are essentially calling me a chicken.”

Natasha raised her brow, “Callie, you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” She huffed, sinking down into the couch and taking a swig from her hard cider. Even if she didn’t agree, Mickey was already putting the movie on, and soon enough, the sounds of crickets and a group of young campers were singing ‘Down in the Valley’.

Four minutes in and Natasha was already scoffing at how stupid it was. Sure, it was the ‘80s, but damn. It looked bad.

Fanboy apparently was in the same boat, because as soon as Mrs. Voorhees killed the first victim, he was already complaining. “Claudette and Barry are so stupid.”

“Mick, it’s a movie.” Bradley massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, but the first rule of any horror scenario is to not have sex!” He argued, shaking his hands towards the tv screen like it was going to try and argue back. “Sex always equals death. I mean, look at Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, The Cabin in the Woods?” He was starting to count on his fingers now. “All have the same phenomenon of ‘sex signals death.’ Need I go on?”

As soon as Mickey was done talking, both Jake and Natasha cut in simultaneously. “No—“

“No, Jesus Christ. You’ve made your point.”

“I know I did, that’s why you and Bradshaw are not allowed to be alone in my house.” Fanboy said, which prompted a chorus of groans and a pillow straight to the face, courtesy of Jake.

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Halfway through the movie, most of the Daggers fell asleep on the couch. Jake, Bradley, and Javy took up one side of the sofa, which was some miracle because this was three grown men Natasha was looking at. Callie had started to clean up the kitchen while Nat worked in the living room. Mickey was too close to passing out, so they let him be for now.

Callie turned on the sink to start cleaning the dishes before she turned to Nat and said, “The movie’s not even scary, it’s actually a lot worse than I originally thought.”

“Yeah, but that’s an ‘80s film for you.” Nat brought some trash over to the bin, throwing everything out. She went to say something else before the lights flickered once, then twice, then went completely out.

Following the power, the water had shut off and she didn’t hear much aside from a bit of clattering dishes. “Callie? You okay?”

“Yep, peachy… uh, do you have a flashlight or something on you?”

“I have my phone.” She said, pulling it out from her back pocket. She turned it on and pressed a button, giving them both some light to work with.

“Okay, well… do we wait a minute or two, or do we try and fix it?” Callie asked.

Natasha crossed over to her friend and set her phone down on the counter. “Well, Fanboy’s dead to the world, so we’ll wait for another minute and then go try and fix it. If it doesn’t work, we’ll just go home.”

“Sounds amazing.” Halo said, voice flat. She shuffled on her feet awkwardly and took the gift out that Jake had gotten her from her pocket. “Y’know, I didn’t think the asshat had it in him. Getting a gift for someone that isn’t Bradshaw or Machado, I mean.”

Natasha laughed softly, grabbing her phone again to shine the light over to the four men, dead to the world, before placing it back down. “Yeah, honestly, who knew Bagman actually had a heart.” She said, brows raising to her hairline.

Callie shifted to face her, taking the bracelet out from its casing “Can you put it on for me?”

She plucked the golden band from Halo’s hand, “Of course.” The smallest of smiles graced her features, and as Callie stuck her hand out, she clipped it onto the last chain, squeezing her friend’s hand. “Alright, let’s go check on that piece of shit breaker.” She said, clapping her hands once.

Natasha walked over to Mickey, shaking his shoulder lightly. She continued to do so, increasing the intensity until he spooked out of whatever sleeping state he was in previously. “What the hell, Nat?!” His words were still the slightest bit slurred, but he managed.

“Your power’s out. Cal and I are gonna go fix it— or break it some more. Your choice.” She shrugged.

Mickey groaned and threw his head back onto the cushioning. “Okay, uh, let’s… not do that, actually. I’m.. coming.. just give me a minute.” He sat there for a moment more, looking like he was contemplating life’s choices.

He rubbed his eyes and finally pushed himself up, immediately finding the mass of men on the couch. “How the hell did they manage that?”

“One of life’s greatest mysteries, Fanboy. C’mon let’s go.”

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They’re Crazy

The trio stood outside, phone in hand, hunched over and staring at the breaker for what felt like an hour. The fog was dense, but the night provided a nice chill that didn’t come often. Crickets chirped and the wind pushed an old swing along, letting it creak and groan under an oak tree.

Fanboy had his head tilted to the side, looking at it as if it was the first time he’d seen such a contraption, Callie was messing with the switches, and Nat was just… holding the phone. Mickey rubbed his eyes, “I’ve never actually had to do this before.”

“Remind me why you own a house again?” Natasha asked, raising her hand higher to shine the light into the box.

“I don’t know! It’s nicer than an apartment, and I really just don’t want to live on base.”

Callie sighed and rolled her eyes, leaning in closer to inspect the switches. “Does this really matter? I just want to go back inside.”

“Why? Did Mrs. Voorhees scare you that much?” Fanboy snickered, wiggling his fingers towards her.

Callie gave him a sharp glare, slapping his hand away. “Uh, no. It’s like one in the morning, and it’s fucking cold. I want to go back inside.” Mickey raised his hands in mock surrender, and backed away. “Okay, okay, damn. Sorry.”

Silence settled between the three for a minute or two, and after some more switches being flipped, Callie gave up. She threw her arms in the air and stepped away, “Can you check to see if the power’s on?”

“Mmhhmm, I got ya.” Fanboy trotted off, throwing a wave over his shoulder.

Both women waved back, then returned to looking at the breaker. The slamming of the old porch door rang out into their silence.

Nat put her hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes to try and find something that could possibly be there. A soft rush of air came from the right of them, sounding like someone trying to breathe through an oxygen mask. She stood back and peered over Callie’s shoulder, who also appeared more alert than before.

“Mick, is that you?” She called out, shining the light towards the front of the house.

No response.

Natasha closed the breaker and stepped closer to her friend. The breathing was only getting closer. Heavier. Steps that weren’t theirs became more audible, crunching leaves and stray branches beneath the shoes.

“Mick, this isn’t funny.” Natasha chided, grabbing onto Callie’s arm and turning to leave. “C’mon let’s go. He’s being stupid.”

The back porch opened and closed. “What‘s not funny? I’m right here, y’know.” Mickey huffed, appearing from the back porch. He got down two of the three steps and paused, “Lights still aren’t working, but— why do you two look like someone just shit your pants?”

Natasha stopped in her tracks, Callie followed suit, just a step behind. “You’re not—?”

Another crunch that sounded far too ominous to be normal floated towards their ears, and then another. Closer and closer. The breathing wasn’t present until it was right up on their necks.

Natasha couldn’t breathe, even though she wished she could. She felt frozen, like the presence behind her was far too strong to let her feet carry her away. Callie was in the same boat, but Fanboy… sweet, still somehow tipsy Mickey was folded at the waist.

“Oh, c’mon, Javy.” He laughed, “That’s real mature of you, trying to scare the birthday girl after she refused to watch Friday the 13th. Ha ha, very funny, but we have bigger things to worry about.”

Natasha finally turned around to be met with a pilot’s visor, too dark to make anyone out from underneath. She flinched back, sweeping her gaze over the figure. The person wore a flight suit, unmarked, no patches.

Her heart sank down to her ass and she finally had the mind to start backing up, trying to tug Callie with her. “Cals, come on.” Nat’s voice was urgent, but the woman was paralyzed. “Callie.” She tried again, tugging on the sleeve of her shirt.

The pilot wasn’t staring at Natasha, but at Callie, like she had some sort of debt owed. “Callie, let’s fucking go!”

That seemed to drag her out of whatever trance she was under. Callie stumbled backwards, getting caught by Nat, before they started to scamper back towards the house.

Mickey grabbed onto her free hand and ushered both women onto the porch. “Javy, this isn’t fucking funny! Get your fat ass head out of that stupid helmet and get back inside— or better yet, go home, asshole.”

The figure just stood outside, watching. Mickey scoffed and shoved the girls inside, slamming and locking the door behind him. “Fuckin’ jackass.” He muttered, pulling down the blinds just enough to check the kitchen’s windows.

Through the fog, not one shape could be defined or made out. No one was there.

A toilet flushed and door shut cautiously somewhere in the hallway, like someone was trying to be quiet. A phone’s light flicked off and Coyote padded out of the hallway, stretching his arms mid yawn.

“Dude, what is your problem?” Mickey accused.

Javy looked around, confused, then pointed to himself. “My problem?” His brow raised. “I, uh, didn’t know I had one, Fanboy.”

Natasha felt sick to her stomach. This wasn’t right.

“Mick, that wasn’t him...” Callie whispered, voice hoarse.

“Wasn’t who? Can someone fill me in on why you three look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

A knock, or perhaps it was more so of a thunk, sounded towards the front end of the house. All four turned in that direction and suddenly everyone’s throat had closed up. Not one thought, breath, or swallow threatened to fill that silent void.

Not even a minute later, another clank came from the right side. Like a shark circling a tank.

Natasha turned her phone on and dialed 911.

It rang.

Rang some more.

Once more might do the trick if she prayed hard enough.

A sweet sounding voice on the other line had finally connected, “San Diego 911, state the address of your emergency and exactly what happened?”

Natasha let out a breath that was becoming painful to hold, shoulders slumping the smallest amount. “We’re at, uh… 10041 Loquat St, 91911. There’s someone outside of my friend’s house, um, stalking us, I think.”

Javy finally seemed to understand the situation, moving around the house to make sure any windows and extra doors were locked.

“Can you describe the…” Any other words dissipated into thin air as a car alarm started to go off. She placed her hand over her heart as if she could will the muscle to stop from beating right out of her chest. Jake and Bradley were still fast asleep on the couch.

Whatever words that went into one ear and out of the other were somewhat easy to fill in. “Someone is outside, they haven’t said anything, but they’re circling the house.”

“Ma’am, do you know what they look like, or… what’s going on? You’re going to have to tell me what’s happening, hon.”

“I just told you what’s happening!” She shouted through a whisper, pacing along the kitchen’s outline. Callie stood in front of her and pulled her into her arms, brushing her fingers through Natasha’s hair. “Someone in a flight suit and HGU-68P helmet is disturbing the peace? I don’t fucking know. Please, I just— send someone.”

“Alright, ma’am… I’m, um.. dispatching an officer your way. It’ll take about thirty minutes, so please stay on th—“

The line went dead with a swift click.

Natasha raised her head and looked at the group of Daggers. A sinking feeling was settling into her chest, worse than before. “An officer should be here soon.”

Fanboy looked out the window again then withdrew, grabbing two knives. “Mickey, what are you doing?” Callie asked.

“I’m not just going to let this asshole torment us like some fucking toys for his entertainment.” He handed the knife to Javy who took it with a blanked expression. “It’ll take an hour for the police to get here, and even then, he might be gone by then.”

“Go upstairs and hide somewhere. Maybe a closet. Don’t come out until we tell you it’s safe, alright?” Javy said, pulling Nat in for a quick side hug before doing the same for Callie.

“Be safe.” Nat whispered, taking Halo by the hand and leading her upstairs. She made sure her steps were light, taking extra caution to avoid the stairs she knew that creaked even the slightest bit. Downstairs, she heard the soft voices of Javy and Mickey waking the other two up. She glanced behind her and squeezed her hand. “It’ll be okay. We’re gonna be fine.”

They entered the first room on the right. It was a bit cluttered, old boxes were stacked together next to the bed, but it gave them more opportunities to hide. Callie closed the door behind them, sliding down until she hit the floor. “I can’t believe this shit.” She whimpered into her hands.

Natasha joined her, locking the door, just for extra precaution before wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“We fly fighter jets, Nat. Fuck… I can’t be scared of some stupid ass kid in a pilot’s getup.” Callie wiped her hand down her face.

“You’re right, we’re in dangerous situations all the time, but we don’t deal with this kind of shit.”

The car alarm had finally shut down, and they were left with the overwhelmingly loud chirping of crickets.

“I’m scared.” Halo whispered.

“I know.”

Wind filtered in from the window across from them sending a new chill down her spine. Natasha huddled into Callie, and for a moment she listened to the men’s chatter from downstairs while she stared at the somber sky, trying to count the stars that weren’t even visible.

The next soft wave of wind hit her like a freight train. No other windows were open. Noise had dwindled to nothing. A door opened just to be shut immediately after, followed by Fanboy’s “Come and get it” taunts.

They were in the house. They’ve been in the house for some exorbitant amount of time.

An undesirable mixture of fear and dread crawled up her spine. “Cals.. we can’t stay in here…”

Callie looked mostly unaware, turning to Natasha and asking, “What? Why not?”

The closet door squeaked open, like on some sadistic cue, and the girls stood as quickly as they could, but the pilot was faster. They took two long strides over to Natasha, gripped her throat, and slammed her head against Callie’s.

The collision sent her staggering back onto the bed, coughing and holding her throat. She swore she saw blinding white while stupidly trying to regain her footing and composure.

Callie was struggling to defend them both, wrapping her arms around the throat and pulling the pilot back. Both of them thrashed around the room, knocking into things before the pilot crushed her into a wall.

A punch flew, then another crash, then nothing. Natasha’s vision was going in and out, but she was trying, damn it. The pilot had grabbed Callie in some way she couldn’t distinguish, and the shink of a knife being unsheathed hit her ears.

Another impact sounded, sending a harsh, gut wrenching exhale of air out from Callie, like she was trying to scream but couldn’t get it out no matter what she did.

A thud to the floor hit heavy and Natasha refused to acknowledge whatever happened because that would just make everything all the more real.

The pilot turned back to her and she lurched onto her feet, still unsteady. “What the fuck do you want from us?!” She sobbed.

The figure didn’t respond. Of course it didn’t. “We called the cops!” She tried, choking on her own words.

They grabbed her by the arms and yanked her closer, bashing the front of the helmet into her head like some sort of barbarian. The collision was enough to form a crack in the visor.

Her field of vision was swiftly tunneling into nothingness, and she hated herself for how quickly she was failing, but there was not much more she could do.

She was shoved back towards the door, knocking into the hardwood. Falling to her knees, Natasha finally flicked her gaze up to Callie, chest bloodied and forming a small, viscous puddle on the carpet. Callie shakily reached to grab onto the pilot’s boot, only for her hand to be stepped on and dragged up to her feet.

The one word that carried over to her ears was a broken, gasping, “Help,” and God, she wished she could. She heard the agonizing tearing of flesh from a blade, another hopeless gasp, and a final thump to the ground.

Callie Bassett was dying, bleeding out, and she didn’t do anything. She couldn’t.

Natasha slumped to the ground from trembling arms that couldn’t withstand her weight. Her eyes fluttered shut with tears streaming down her cheeks and her stomach was twisting and turning in the worst imaginable ways.

The harsh rapping and banging on the door behind her slowly drowned itself out, garbling any and all shouts from the Daggers who were finally trying to kick the door down. She tried to call out to them, to move, or to at least unlock the door before another blow to the head forced any consciousness to seep from her body.

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quick note: if i continue the story, most chapters will start with testimonials from each surviving dagger. ALSO all titles are derived / referenced from the Scream score, which is the main inspiration for this au. i love u scream. thank you so much for reading this mess of a story <33

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candlemouse · 2 days ago

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guys what if they kill me at work today

#this is why I have a specific morning playlist that has loud hype music ONLY. any hint of emotion and I will start thinking these things

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candlemouse · 9 days ago

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Chapter Six!

Tim Drake’s Guide to Post-Mortem IVF and the Consequences of Teenage Parenthood

Gen; currently 11k words, 3/? chapters

Read on Ao3! Excerpt under the cut

If anything she was simply a test tube baby with extra steps. Post-mortem IVF.

Even though she was an accident, Tim had fallen in love immediately. First off, she was the only experiment that worked, and he had run out of DNA. So, she was the only thing he had left of Kon.

But, Kon stayed dead.

Before telling anyone about Lila, Tim needed to wait for Kon to come back—or for his mind to accept that Kon was never going to. Whatever came first.

He still sent in his case work to Bruce and he still worked for Wayne Enterprises—just from home—and it usually all worked out.

Until it didn’t.

“We need you to come in to the cave,” Bruce’s voice came across gruff, halfway to his Batman register.

“Uh, no,” Tim answered. “Just send it to my computer and I can review whatever you need.”

“It’s physical evidence.”

“Take pictures.”

“Tim,” Bruce said, exasperated. A voice in the background asked after him, probably Dick.

“Look,” Tim said. “I’m busy.”

“You’ve been busy for weeks.”

“Yeah.” Tim had stopped rocking Lila in his concentration on the call, and her eyes fluttered open. Her lips pouted and her eyes glassed over. “Oh no. Can I call you back?”

“Tim? What’s—”

Lila’s loud cry cut off whatever Bruce was going to say.

“Shh,” Tim soothed, trying and failing to rock her back to calmness. “Come on.”

“Is that a baby?” Bruce asked. Excited voices joined in the background, too muffled for Tim to discern.

“Uh, yeah,” Tim said. Lila cried louder. “I’m babysitting. See, I told you I’m busy. I meant it.”

“Well, that’s none of his business—or yours, for that matter,” Tim snapped. Lila cried more, maybe at his tone, and Tim scrambled. “Lila, sweetheart, shh. Shh, it’s okay.”

“You can bring Lila with you to the cave,” Bruce said. “Alfred can take care of her. Give you a break.”

Tim didn’t answer Bruce, focused on whispering comforting words to Lila. Bruce spoke again. “We’re having lasagna for dinner.”

Tim did need a break.

“Okay,” Tim said. “I’ll be over in four hours.”

“Two,” Bruce corrected.

“Five. Or never,” Tim asserted. It would give him time to bathe her, do tummy time, second feeding, diaper change, and nap time before heading over.

Lila finally calmed down again, her cries quieting to soft whimpers. Tim pressed a kiss to her forehead, and stroked her nose to soothe her to sleep.

“Fine,” Bruce grunted. “Four.”

With that, Tim hung up.

Continue reading on Ao3 here!

#tim drake #bruce wayne #dcu #timkon #timkon clone baby au

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