#*shoving Dick Grayson out the way* I can treat her so much better actually

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

I could treat her so right actually

[redhoodssweetheart]

Moonlight II

Genre: DC/Marvel Crossover

Relationship: Older!Damian Wayne x Adopted Stark!Fem!Reader

Requested: No (Only a few requests are open, please see pinned post for details)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, swearing, canon typical violence

Description:  You are the adopted daughter of Tony Stark, Damian is the son of Bruce Wayne.  Your two fathers hate each other which by extension should mean that you and Damian are on less than friendly terms.  The issue?  You’ve been dating for little over a year and have been keeping it a secret.  What will happen if your fathers figure it out?

A/N: I actually hadn’t planned on this ending the way it did, but as I was writing it this is just how it happened.  Enjoy! 

Morning light shown through your window the next morning a few minutes before your alarm went off.  Your mind drifted back to the night before with Damian sneaking into your room and inviting you out for an afternoon with his brothers.  Excitement coursed through you at the thought of finally meeting them.  You quickly got up and began preparing for your day, you were almost done when there was a knock on your door.

When you opened it you discovered Pepper standing there with a bright smile on her face, “Good morning honey, Tony and I were just about to have breakfast, did you want to join us?”

You glanced back at your clock and saw that it was only eight thirty, you had plenty of time to eat before going to meet Damian, “Sure Mom.”

You grabbed the rest of your things before joining Pepper.  It had taken you awhile before you had started calling Pepper “mom”.  When Tony had first adopted you, you weren’t sure what he and Pepper wanted.  It had been some time since you had had a family and you weren’t sure what Tony’s motivations were.  Did he just want to look good to the press?  Did he want to ease a guilty conscience?  Did he just actually want a kid?

Then Morgan had come along.  You thought for sure that that would be it for you, they had their own kid now, they wouldn’t want you.  But that they hadn’t treated you any differently and you came to think of Morgan as your own sister.  You were fiercely protective of her and she loved you to death.  She was currently staying with Peter while you and your parents were in Gotham.

Tony greeted you with a hug and a kiss to your temple and began blabbing on and on about the gala the night before.  Your mind drifted to Damian and how good he had looked in his suit.  Then it went to the stairwell and the night before in your room, you only broke out of it when Tony cleared his throat, “Earth to Y/N, you still with us kid?”

You chuckled nervously, “Sorry just got a little lost in thought is all.”

“Care to share with the group?”

You shook your head, “Oh I was just thinkin’ about all the things I want to get done today.  We leave in two days so that’s not a lot of time to see the city.”

“You could always come back later with your friends,” Pepper suggested.  “I’m sure a vacation would be good for you.”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, you’re right, it would be nice.”  You glanced at the clock on your phone and saw that it was creeping closer to nine thirty, you had to be at the park by ten to meet Damian.  You stood and said, “Thanks for breakfast, but I want to go ahead and get a headstart on today.  I’ll see you at dinner.”  You kissed Pepper on the cheek and gave Tony a hug before dashing out of the hotel room.

Tony looked at the door you had just exited from and said, “I don’t think she wants to be around us any more.”  Pepper merely patted his arm and went back to her breakfast.

You on the other hand were rushing to the park that Damian had mentioned.  You were a little worried that someone may see the two of you together, but you honestly also couldn’t care less.  Sometimes you were tired of hiding the truth from everyone.  You loved Damian and you wanted the world to know that fact, but you worried about what Tony would think or do when he found out.  You also wondered if Bruce would be understanding or if he would forbid his son from seeing you as well.

You shoved those thoughts from your mind, you didn’t want them affecting your mood any.  Today was going to be a good day.  And when you made it into the park you immediately saw Damian, he had a baseball cap and sunglasses on trying to hide who he was, but you knew.  You could spot him anywhere.  He had spotted you as well and you noticed a smile growing on his face as you raced over toward him.  Your arms wrapped around him and he gently lifted you off the ground a few inches.

“Hello beloved,” he whispered in your ear before placing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Hi,” you said, a grin stretching across your face.

Someone cleared their throat and you could have sworn your heart stopped.  You had been caught.  It was too good to be true.  “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Dami?”

You looked over his shoulder and saw his three brothers standing there all three of them with amused expressions on their faces.  Damian practically growled at their words.  Knowing that his brothers knew about the two of you made things a little easier.  It was like Peter knowing that you and Damian were dating.  The two of you needed someone to turn to when things were tough.

You had almost told Pepper one day when you and Damian had had a fight.  You needed a motherly figure to go to, but you weren’t sure how she would feel about the two of you together.  She wasn’t like Tony, but would she lie to Tony?  You weren’t sure, so you decided to keep it a secret.

You had gone to Natasha despite never really talking to her.

She was in the training room at the Avengers' Compound and you approached her nervously.  “Nat, could I talk to you for a moment?”

She had paused what she was doing and turned to you, giving you her full undivided attention, “What can I do for you Y/N?”

You rubbed your arm and said, “If I share a secret will you promise not to tell Dad?”

Natasha’s interest was piqued, “I mean as long as you aren’t in any danger then yeah I can promise not to tell him.”

“I’m dating Damian Wayne,” you said and you watched as her eyes lit up.  “Oh God, please tell me you’re not going to use this against me?”

She chuckled, “I promise not to tell him or anyone else.  How did this even happen?”

You launched into the tale of how you and Damian had been sworn enemies, always competing against one another and how it had turned to friendship and then to what it was now.  You told her about the fight that you couldn’t even remember now, and she gave you her opinions.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you all,” you told them with a bright smile.  “Damian talks about you a lot and I’ve been begging him to let me meet you all since you found out about our little affair.”

“They were supposed to give us a few moments alone before ambushing you,” Damian said, his tone clearly stating how unamused he was with his brothers.  “But clearly they didn’t take my feelings into account.”

“You’ve been keeping her to yourself for over a year now,” Dick said, his easy going smile never slipping from his face.  “We just wanted to meet her.”

Tim nodded his head in agreement, “Don’t get mad, Dami.  She’s only here for a few more days and then she’s on her way back to New York.”

You poked Damian on the side, “They have a point, Damian.  I don’t mind meeting them now, we have plenty of time to be alone together.”

He still looked disgruntled but you let the boys show you around Gotham.  They had an SUV with tinted windows to hide who was inside.  The boys were recognizable and so were you.  The five of you would be on the front page of all the gossip magazines by tomorrow and everyone and their mother would know that maybe you didn’t play into the whole feud your fathers had going on.

You could see the headlines now:

Real-life Romeo and Juliet with Children of Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark

Y/N Stark and Damian Wayne Making Headlines as Secret Affair

How Long Have These Star-Crossed Lovers Been Together?

You wondered how long it would take Tony to kick you out of the house and never speak to you again.  It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Tony, he deserved to know.  It was just that you didn’t know what he would do when he found out the truth.  You knew how much he hated Bruce Wayne, and to be fair Tony didn’t think straight on a lot of things when emotions ran high.  He would definitely say something that would hurt and he might regret later.

But knowing your father he would be too proud to admit that he was wrong.

Damian noticed the look on your face and nudged you, “You okay?”

You smiled and took his hand in yours, “Yeah just thinking.”

“About your dad?”  He furrowed his brow, the two of you had had many talks about your fathers and their reaction to the two of you coming clean about how you weren’t really enemies.

You leaned your head back and blew out a breath, “I’m just… worried.”

Damian squeezed your hand and said, “Whenever you want to tell him, I’ll be there to support you.  And if you want to tell Father first we could while you’re still here.  He may put on a show of hating Stark, but I don’t think he’d begrudge you.”

“Damian’s right,” Dick said from the driver’s side.  “Bruce looks like he would be the type to throw a fit and tell Damian to get out, but he’s actually not that big of an asshole.”

You laughed, “You saying Stark is an asshole, Grayson?”

“If he doesn’t I will,” Jason turned and grinned at you making you laugh.  “No offense.”

“None taken, I know my father can be less than welcoming and let his mouth get him into trouble.”  You didn’t have enough fingers to count the times your father had gotten into trouble because his mouth had gotten the better of him.  “I just wish I knew if he would be okay with us.  That he wouldn’t let the feud get in the way of realizing how happy I am.”

Leaning over Damian kissed your cheek.  “So should I set a course for the manor?”  Dick asked.

“It’s up to you,” Damian said.  “Father will be discreet.”

Taking a steadying breath you said, “Let’s do it.”  The boys cheered and Damian once again squeezed your hand to let you know that he would be with you every step of the way.

[consumeconstantly]

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 2

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

It’s now the end of Damian’s first week in Paris, and everything is ready for him to transfer into Francois Dupont. He really thought he had dodged the pointless education bullet by coming to France, but of course his father wouldn’t let that slip. However, if he has to continue getting an education he doesn’t need, he will at least get something productive done during the hours of his experience; he will explore the so-called akuma class that he has read up about. One Caline Bustier’s class, the same class that the Ladyblogger is in. The same class that Marinette is in.

He hopes it’s the same as it was in Gotham, or at least similar enough. He expects his reception to be a little different, since his last name has been changed to Grayson to avoid any unwanted attention. Maybe this means that his classmates won’t try to talk to him solely for the purpose of connecting to his family. That doesn’t mean that he wants to talk to any of them. Unless they’re all like Marinette; his brief interactions with her have been bearable, bordering on pleasant. He doubts her class will be similar, though, judging by the quick sweep that he does on all of the student’s social media accounts and the hours that he’s spent on the Ladyblog. From what he has gleaned, the social situation in the akuma class leaves much to be desired. Lila Rossi, who appeared on the Ladyblog multiple times two years ago in rather ridiculous interviews that have since been taken down, seems to be the crux of the class currently. The rest of the class, other than Marinette, who hasn’t appeared in most of the group pictures that her classmates take for the past two years, seem to have little common sense.

When he walks into the classroom, there is a huddle around Lila Rossi, who sits near the front of the classroom and looks astonishingly bored as her classmates talk to her. The members of the class don’t even look up at him when he comes in, instead looking at Lila with almost cult-like devotion, despite the awful shade of lipstick that did not look good on her-- seriously, who wore orange lipstick on a day to day basis? He spares them a moment of observation, decides that he’s not going to get along with his classmates at all, then takes a seat in the back. There is only one desk that has both seats empty-- or is at least currently unoccupied, judging by the lack of items on it. The desk in question is near the back of the classroom next to an exit. He prefers this to sitting in the front, at least.

Right before class starts, a girl drops into the seat next to him, the one that’s closer to the aisle instead of the exit, but the way that she pauses for a moment makes him think that she typically sits where he is, now. 

“Damian?” 

What luck. Marinette is his seat partner. One of the only people in Paris that he’s talked to that seems to be fairly tolerable. With the added bonus of her being fairly intelligent and able to hold her own. There isn’t much more that he could ask for in a seatmate. 

He is confused as to how such a girl is still in this seemingly god-awful class, but small blessings. He’s not going to complain about having Marinette by his side.

“Oh, you must be the transfer from America.” She pulls out a binder from her bag, sends a quick glance sent to Lila, then settles into her chair. Lila sends Marinette a look that Damian can’t quite decipher, but it’s not unfriendly. “If you want to get acquainted with the school, you can ask Lila or Alya. Lila’s the one with orange lipstick and green eyes. Alya’s the one in plaid with glasses. They’re the class president and deputy this year.”

Damian takes a few more moments to observe the class dynamics, particularly how Lila and Alya interact with those around them. The former holds a blonde boy that Damian is fairly sure is Adrien Agreste, and while he seems accustomed to having Lila hang off his arm, he doesn’t exactly look comfortable either. Lila’s eyes unsettle Damian. They look eerily similar to his mother’s, though there is much less ill intent held within them. Alya looks spineless and clingy, clearly uneducated about topics that she brings up one after another. He can’t hear what they are saying clearly from this distance, but he is certain that the small blonde girl was asking Lila to tell the story of how she saved Jagged’s kitten one more time, even though that story’s years old because Lila’s just so humble and modest and amazing. Surprisingly, Lila turns down the girl’s request, and continues to barely interact with her classmates while she continues to hold onto Adrien’s arm.

Jagged as in Jagged Stone, Damian assumes, and though he’s no fan himself, factoids about the rock star’s life have been shoved down his throat by Tim and Dick for the past five years, so how the hell could he not know that a) the star’s manager was deathly allergic and b) the star said that Fang was the best pet that could ever be and he could never want for anything more. 

“You can tour me around instead.” To be completely honest, he doesn’t need a tour around the school at all; Damian did do reconnaissance before starting this mission. He knows the school’s layout like the back of his hand after pouring over maps and information about Francois Dupont. However, he is particularly interested in the dynamics of the akuma class, and he might as well get insider information while he still can.

Marinette looks at Damian appraisingly. “I don’t know about that, Damian. Lila and Alya are fine at giving tours. You’d be in capable hands.”

“Hands capable of what?” Damian can’t imagine that Lila’s claws are good for anything except skewering people who tried to disprove her seemingly outlandish tales. He almost feels bad for Adrien, then thinks better of it; he doesn’t seem that uncomfortable with Lila, he just doesn’t seem to like her hand on his arm.

Marinette laughs, softly, focusing on the group. She moves her mouth so little that if anyone looks, it will appear as though he is talking to her without response. “Very funny. Seriously, if you want a tour, ask Lila or Alya. I’m really not the best person for the job.”

The teacher comes into the room, and the students slowly disperse back into their seats. 

#

When lunch comes around, Marinette packs her stuff up and gets out of the classroom so quickly, he wonders if she’s not some sort of athlete. 

“You’re Damian, the transfer from America!” Lila puts a manicured hand on his arm, and Damian almost thinks that he sees her lick his lips as his forearm flexes at the unexpected contact. He restrains himself from his initial thought to deck her, but barely.

He takes a deep breath and gets his disgust under control. He can control himself. Alfred and Dick have spent years ensuring that he knows what a normal reaction is to someone touching him. When his eyes aren’t seeing red anymore, he turns his attention back to the hand on his arm. Her nails are the same garish orange as her lips, and it’s the case of the chicken and the egg all over again. No matter which came first, though, the color looks bad on both. Jason will say that Damian can’t criticize the girl because of his own awful sense of color coordination, but there’s a reason why he doesn’t have any color in his wardrobe besides his Robin suit. 

“Come, sit with us.” Orange’s voice is nauseatingly fake.

Damian doesn’t outright refuse, but he does shake off the girl’s hand. She feels too similar to Talia up close. Her eye shape is eerily similar. She must be manipulative and cunning to have such a hold on the class. But, he might as well see exactly what the akuma class is all about.

He is escorted into the cafeteria, pushed next to Adrien, then given a lunch tray that has foods that look decidedly less than nutritious and possibly stale. At Gotham Academy, the food was always prepared by the best, so this is unusual for him.

“My name is Adrien. It’s nice to meet you.” Damian thinks the blond boy is nice enough, but he sounds tired and worn out. 

Moments later, Lila comes back from the bathroom and squeezes herself between Damian and Adrien, looping her arm through Adrien’s and then attempting to do the same with Damian. But his arms are so tightly at his side, that it’s impossible for her to wiggle her hand through. Damian is glad that he trained himself to eat with both hands, and quickly takes up a fork with his left. Her laugh is high and breathy, like she’s changed her voice to sound different.

He has to say that it feels disgusting, because it feels like she’s treating him as some sort of arm candy. For the first time in his life, he actually thinks about his gender and is very glad that he was born a boy. Had he been born a girl, there is no doubt that this kind of situation may have happened more often; Damian knows he’s attractive. His mother and father both have very good genes both look wise and talent wise.

Not even ten minutes go by, and Damian sees why Marinette high-tailed it out of the classroom so quickly. He wishes that he went with her instead, though he gets the feeling that he isn’t welcome to do so. 

The stories that Lila weaves for her life as of late are more convincing than the ones that his classmates have told him of her heroic deeds in the past. Damian can almost believe that they’re true-- helping out with food drives, volunteering with the Red Cross occasionally-- but he doubts the validity of any statement that comes from her mouth after finding the cache of interviews from three years ago. She’s focusing more on friends, she says as she tries to catch his arm again. She leans closer, and Damian can smell the floral perfume on her so strongly that it makes him nauseous. His mother never wore perfume. Nobody from the League of Assassins did. Perfume is something that’s traceable. After he was introduced to Gotham City, all of the women he came into contact with rarely wore perfume and when they did, it certainly wasn’t this floral fruity-fresh fragrance that Lila was drenched in.

She leans on him, and Damian’s pretty sure by the curve of the girl’s smirk and the glint in her eyes that he’s supposed to find the slight touch of her cleavage on his arm attractive. This paltry attempt at seduction is laughable. Even as a nine year old, his mother had him training against attacks like these. He was taught never to give into lust, and after living in a family like the Waynes, girls and boys alike threw themselves at him. If he wants a relationship, physical or otherwise, he can have one. He certainly doesn’t want a relationship with this Lila Rossi. Still, he doesn’t see why she has so much control over the classroom and certainly doesn’t see why Marinette is so excluded from their class. 

It’s the longest hour of his life, but Damian makes it through and nearly flees for the safety of the back seat in the classroom. Nearly, but not quite.

#

By the time Damian gets into the room, Marinette is already sitting at the desk again. She looks up, looks at Lila who has looped her arm with Adrien’s and is smiling at Damian like a cat who got the cream. Damian reads sadness and maybe a touch of concern when she looks at Adrien.

“Lunch was awful.”

“Was it.” It’s phrased like it should be a question, but it doesn’t sound like Marinette is curious.

“You could have told me.”

Her lips purse. She’s copying notes from the last class over again, making them neater and more organized. “That’s not my place.”

“You’re my seat partner.”

“So?”

“Somehow, you seem a lot more morally righteous when you’re out on the streets.”

“That’s different. Paris is Paris; class is class. There’s a time and place for everything.”

From the cacophony near the front rises Lila’s high pitched voice. Damian thinks that she’s modulated it in order to seem more innocent, more believable. “Oh, Adrien, I’m so happy that we’re going to have dinner together with your father tonight.” 

Marinette’s eyes raise from her paper. They search for Adrien. Adrien, whose shoulders are hunched in a way that speaks of tiredness and defeat. Adrien, who has eye bags that even concealer cannot fix. Adrien, who looks down at his hands and refuses to meet Marinette’s eyes and their soft, sad questions. 

Slowly, Marinette’s eyes lower. She blinks at her paper, then continues copying her notes. 

At the very least, Damian is glad that he’s sitting back here with the only sane person in this class. It isn’t like Damian is here to make friends anyways. It might have been helpful, but he doesn’t need other people’s help. He can manage on his own.

#

Scratch that, he could not manage. 

Damian now understands why Hawkmoth had not been captured even though it had been three years since his appearance. Magic is really annoying. 

He reports back to the Justice League that yes, the reports were true and no, he did not think it was a good idea to send anyone in yet and yes, he would continue to work on reconnaissance and figuring out who Hawkmoth was.

Despite three more akuma attacks(of increasing intensity) and hours prowling the internet, clues about Hawkmoth’s identity are few and far between. Early on in his mission brief, he was encouraged to not make contact with the Paris superheroes unless the situation got really bad and not to go patrolling the rooftops as Robin at all. They didn’t want to destress the Parisian heroes who had, at first, asked them for help, and then pleaded with them to not send anybody. All of the lack of information and lack of action gave him undue stress, more so than when he was back in Gotham. At least back there, the high stress situations he encountered would promptly be worked off by fighting a villain, sparring his brothers, or patrolling. He can’t do any of that here. 

The coffee he ordered finally arrives, and he downs it in one shot, surveying the streets in front of him. Parisians are weird. His classmates have one collective brain cell that resides with the orange monstrosity, Lila, and the people he meets on the streets are way too open and friendly for people who have been terrorized by a supervillain for three years. They should be more like the citizens of Gotham-- keeping their heads down, minding their own business. Instead, he’s been approached by countless people as he wandered around the city-- unsurprisingly, mostly from girls sent by a larger pack in attempts to get his number or ask him on a date-- and also by random people who want to cheer him up. What kind of person tries to cheer up random people on the streets? Apparently it’s something that many Parisians have taken to doing, in attempts to prevent more akumas. Damian doesn’t think it’s very successful on that part, and is more just an excuse for people who want to stick their noses where they don’t belong.

Marinette is the only Parisian who was better than decent at holding her own Damian’s seen so far; in the past week, he’s stopped three bag snatchers, two stalkers, and two random fights. It’s surprisingly lively for a city that is plagued by a villain who takes advantage of strong emotions. He asks one of the people he saves why this is so.

“Well, it’s been three years. For the first year, yes, we very much lived in fear. But Ladybug and Chat Noir always come to save the day, and they told us that holding in our emotions is even more unhealthy.” This, a man he saved from his stalker. “That talk came after they fought off a stream of very strong akumas that totalled the city, all because they had been repressing their emotions until the breaking point.”

That is useful information. It definitely explains why the city is the way it was, though with the number of tourists that Paris has, he’s surprised that this hasn’t become headlining news internationally. He finds a few threads on Twitter talking about it, but most people are convinced it’s some ongoing stunt for attention. Apparently there’s a movie out about Ladybug and Chat Noir? Damian knows that Mayor Bourgeois put an initial block on information about the akumas from getting out, but that shouldn’t have stopped the Justice League from getting their hands on information about the situation in Paris. However, the teams that have been looking into the situation since they found out have had very little luck finding anything other than conspiracy theories. If Damian hadn’t seen an akuma battle with his own eyes, he’d have thought he was sent on a wild goose chase. 

Damian feels a cross of pity for the Parisian superheroes and a brief moment of anger at Hawkmoth. From what he’s gathered, the Ladybug and Chat Noir are largely on their own. In that first year, there were a few other heroes in the mix-- a fox, a bee, a dragon, and a snake-- but their appearances became sparse and after a mass akumatization, they never appeared again. Ladybug and Chat Noir definitely stepped up their game in that second year, with Ladybug taking the lead so strongly that Damian isn’t sure that he can call them a pair of superheroes. 

Sure, the battles end more quickly with Chat Noir there, but there are plenty of occasions where he doesn’t show up at all and other fights where he stays out of the battle entirely. Oftentimes, in the second year, both heroes looked extraordinarily tired and peaky. Then, something had changed, and Ladybug no longer seemed to be bothered. That was when Chat Noir started staying out of more and more battles, and the few times that he showed up, he always ran off first. Their media appearances, which had been rather heavy in the first year, dwindled down to a few periodic and important announcements. Other than that, they never gave more interviews to smaller blogs, like the Ladyblog. He has to say that he’s not surprised; even though Alya has taken them down, Lila’s interviews were still riddled with lies and she had posted them. Ladybug must have felt that the blog's integrity decreased. 

All of this meaningless information leads him nowhere. The Ladyblog and several other news sources have contemplated Hawkmoth’s identity and purpose, but they all seem far fetched. Motivations include everything from world destruction to believing that this is all just a ploy to get Ladybug and Chat Noir media attention. There’s not even any concrete conclusion on Hawkmoth’s gender, though the majority opinion holds that he is a man.

He sees Marinette from the coffee shop windows. It’s amazing that this girl seems to be everywhere all at once. She always ends up near the akuma attacks, but he never spots her during them, which is curious. There’s only so many reliable places to hide. Today, she’s facing down some adult while holding a child behind her. The lady looks furious, red-faced and spittle flying. In contrast, Marinette looks calm and cold, and addresses the woman cordially, though not with respect.

A crowd gathers, but as in all things that might be dangerous, they form at a distance, with phone cameras at the ready. Damian joins them and watches the situation unfold.

“He’s my child. I get to decide how to discipline him.” The lady is wearing an expensive looking suit that is a little over the top. Her hair is perfectly coiffed, and her handbag costs at least two thousand dollars. 

“Even if he is your child, that doesn’t mean you can hurt him like this. Mademoiselle, I suggest that we go to the police station now.”

“I don’t have time for that. This brat already cost me an hour of my time to pick him up from school because he was misbehaving, and I have to get to the office now.” The lady hisses, draws closer, ready to push Marinette and grab her child. Marinette side steps, pulling the child behind her. 

“You’re a mother. Make time for your child. We are going to the police station, Mademoiselle, or I will call the police here.”

“I am one of the head managers of Silverstein and Company’s Paris branch. You are just a teenager. You have no place arguing with me over parenting tactics.”

“I am only a teen,” Marinette conceded, “But even a child knows when something is wrong and should be stopped. And abusing your child, Mademoiselle, is very clearly wrong.”

Marinette brings out her phone-- she must have the station on speed dial. Now, the woman approaches Marinette with a heavy hand, ready to slap her. The kid is hiding behind Marinette and quivering, very much afraid of his mother. He’s holding Marinette’s hand so tightly that Damian can see her fingertips have begun to turn blue. 

Damian figures this is as good a time as any to intervene, so he puts himself between Marinette and the lady. Marinette backs up a little more, bends down to the kid and pats his shoulder. 

“It’ll be okay,” Marinette says to the kid soothingly. She seems like the type to babysit. Good with kids, creative enough to keep them out of trouble, but with enough of a backbone to make sure they grow up right. 

The police show up in record time, and Damian wonders whether Marinette has Special Privileges that make officers show up more quickly. It would make sense, since she always seems to be getting people out of trouble. Too bad she seems too much on the side of the law to ever become a vigilante. The world could use more people like her, active in helping others.

The four of them are instructed to go the police precinct; the woman says that she’ll take her car, and looks expectantly at her child, thinking that he’ll come with her. Marinette pushes the boy even further out of the woman’s view and meets the lady with a glare. 

“Do you mind if we ride with you in the back, Officer?” 

The three of them pile into the back of the cruiser, and Damian feels like this is some sort of twisted irony. He’s sent many a villain to jail, but he himself has never been in the back of such a police car. In the back of a high security one, once, when he was on an infiltration mission, but the back of such a normal one? Never. It’s an interesting experience to say the least; there’s mesh between the officer and themselves, and no way to get out from the back themselves. It’s also decidedly hot in the back, with plastic seats and no air conditioning. 

Marinette is cooing at the child now, who is gripping her hand only slightly less tightly. “Don’t worry, Renee, we’re going to make sure that you don’t get hit like that again.”

The kid’s eyes are glassy, then he’s all tears, and he’s crying into Marinette’s shirt. She just pats him on the back, slowly, and lets him cry it out. It’s very different from the approach that Batman, the Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin take with their victims. Most times, they just let the victims be ushered wherever the police need then to be, and then, they never see them again. Damian justifies this with the fact that fundamentally vigilantes and regular people are different. It makes sense that Marinette has a more human touch to her. She’s not wearing a bodysuit. It’s all Marinette, and that makes the whole situation more powerful.

It only takes a few more moments for the boy to cry himself to sleep. 

“I want to file with Child Protection Services.” Her voice is soft, low. She speaks carefully so as not to wake the kid up. 

“Yes, we should file with CPS, but if this is just a one time thing there’s not really much that we can do about this.” The officer sounds sad, like he’s dealt with situations like this before.

“As long as we have proof that this isn’t a one time thing, we can make sure that Renee doesn’t go back with her unless he wants to?” There’s a flash of steel determination in Marinette’s eyes, and it almost makes Damian uncomfortable. It’s the look Barbara gets when one of them get really badly injured. 

“Yes, but that kind of proof is hard to get.”

“I see,” she says, like she really does see all of the situation and knows exactly what needs to happen next. She says it like she’s going to make Renee’s mother go to jail if it’s the last thing she does.

They arrive at the precinct, and Marinette carries the boy like its nothing. Damian offers to help, but he’s shaken off. Renee is already asleep in her arms, after all, and she doesn’t want to risk waking him up. She’s sure that he's tired, after all this. It’s a curious thing, how softly and lovingly she looks down at the boy, even though Damian suspects that Marinette has never met the boy in her life before this fiasco.

Their party arrives more quickly than the mother, so they take seats in a small office, Renee still on Marinette’s lap. She’s now scrolling through her phone, assessing whatever’s on her screen with a clinical eye. Damian pulls out his phone as well. To be honest, he’s not quite sure what he’s doing here. He only stepped in at the last second, though he doesn’t have any real complaints about being here. His father would say it’s an experience, and his siblings would joke that he finally ended up in the hands of the police.

When the lady arrives, she looks nothing like that woman he saw on the streets earlier. She looks every inch a professional. Her makeup has been touched up, and there is a smile plastered on her face that screams dealing with an unpleasant situation. 

“I’m so sorry about that,” she says to Marinette like she’s an old friend. “You know how it is-- sometimes it’s really hard to keep a level head with all that goes on in the city. I was so scared for my little boy-- I heard there was an akuma attack near his school, and rushed out to get him, but he wanted to stay with his friends.”

Marinette has a polite smile fixed on her face as well. Her face doesn’t show the slightest bit of reaction to the lady.

“Kids, am I right?” The lady tries for a joke, tries to sway Marinette and the officer and Damian to her side. “So just let me pick up Renee here, and I’ll bring him back home.”

The lady reaches for Renee, and Damian stops her because Marinette has both her hands full with Renee, who has woken up with shuddering sobs. 

“Officer, is it possible if Renee can wait outside of the room while we talk? Surely there’s somebody who can watch him out there.” Her voice is still kept soft and soothing. She looks at Renee and smiles, doesn’t bother looking at the rest of her surroundings. “Is that okay, Renee? Do you mind waiting outside for a little?”

The little boy nods, and he is swept up by some other person who works at the precinct, and then it is only the four of them in the room.

The lady looks frustrated, but she keeps her mouth shut as the officer goes through the proper procedures that they must follow, and that CPS is getting involved. 

“But officer, there’s no need to get CPS involved. I take very good care of my darling Renee. He gets to go to all the classes he could ever want to and I love him very much. I’m so sorry that he got bruised. I’ll make sure that it never happens again.”

Marinette’s hands are carefully laid on her pants. Her fingers are splayed open and the entirety of each palm rests on her thighs. A gesture that makes her look relaxed, were it not for the slight tremble that Damian detects. She is holding her hands in that position so tightly that Damian has good reason to believe that she is withholding herself from hitting the woman. 

“Madame DeVries.” Marinette’s voice is clipped. “CPS must be involved. I insist. It’s very clear to me that this is not the first time that you have hurt Renee, nor will it be the last.”

“How can you say that?” The lady wails. She is an okay actress, but not able to fool any of those present in the room. “I love my darling boy. I would never hit him. Never!”

“Regardless of whether this is the first time you hit him, there are more ways to hurt a person than just physical abuse. Renee’s fear of you makes it clear that you have induced some sort of psychological trauma on him.”

The lady’s face contorts into a sneer when she realizes that nobody in the room is on her side. “You have no evidence. You can’t accuse me like that. I’ll call a lawyer.”

“Go ahead and call a lawyer, Madame. I think that would be for the best. Don’t worry about the evidence. There’s plenty.” She turns to the officer. “Please call someone from CPS here. I don’t want Renee going home with her until the trial is over.”

“You can’t do that to me.” The lady is standing now, towering over Marinette and trying to intimidate her. “I have a reputation to uphold. You will not sue me for child abuse. You cannot.”

“Any parent who truly cares for their child would care more for their child’s well being rather than their own reputation. I wonder what that says about you, Madame. There is no reason why I can’t sue you and too many reasons that I should.”

She lowers herself to Marinette's ear, whispers in soft tones that she’s certain will not be caught by any recording devices. “You will not take me to court, or I’ll make sure that you are blacklisted wherever you want to work. You underestimate how much power I have.”

“Madame, please move away from me. I was only going to attempt to remove Renee from your custody, but please be assured that I will now pursue you for threatening a minor, abusing a child, and whatever other charges that I can come up with. I will refuse to settle. The trial will go public, and the reputation that you care so much about will be ruined, even if you win.”

Celia Devries’ face shifts to an almost cattish grin. It looks like she’s won. “Please, I understand that you’re distressed, but I haven’t threatened you at all.”

Marinette simply pulls her phone out again and plays back a recording of the exact threat that Celia just made to her. 

She splutters. “I never agreed to be recorded! It’s illegal under French code.”

“Madame DeVries, when you come into the precinct, you agree to being recorded. This recording might be from my personal phone, but it is still within legal jurisdiction. In addition, the code is different for gathering evidence against a crime. Everything that is said and done in this office can be disclosed during trial, and there are cameras and voice recorders in here. Please, return to whatever you had to do, and you will be served your court orders soon enough.” Damian is impressed. Has Marinette done this before? She’s too prepared to know this just by spending a few minutes on her phone.

Celia pales, then storms out of the room, frightened that she’ll say something else that will incriminate herself. 

“At least Hawkmoth has already filled his daily quota,” the officer jokes. 

“There’s that much, at least,” Marinette smiles, but there’s something frigid behind it. 

“You’re always getting caught up in something,” Damian says.

“I really am. Some day I’ll become a recluse.”

“And let the world’s horrors move without you?”

Marinette shrugs and all of the tension that was holding in her hands and shoulders dissipates. 

“Since this is a child custody case, it will be the government against Mademoiselle DeVries. The two of you can come to testify, and if there’s any evidence that you have, you can go ahead and give it to me now. If you want to sue her for threatening a minor, you can do that as well; I’ll get you in contact with a lawyer.”

“I don’t have any evidence.” Right now, at least. When Damian goes home, he’ll do a little digging about the woman, see what he can find. 

“I do. I was recording the whole encounter on the street, and I also have several eyewitnesses who have recorded as well. Let me send them to you.” Marinette fiddles with her phone. “And if it’s possible, I think it would be a good thing for Renee to talk to a psychiatrist. In the interim before he goes home, who will he be staying with?”

“He can choose to stay with his next of kin, or can stay in a  temporary foster home.”

“Please email me the date that I should come in to testify, and give me the lawyer’s contact information as well. I’ll email him any additional evidence that I can get.”

“I’d like the email address of the lawyer as well.” Damian might only have a moral conscience because his family beat it into him, but Renee seems like a sweet kid. He’s willing to help.

They’re out of the precinct in another half hour, after Marinette pulls the person from CPS in so they can talk to Renee about what’s going to happen next. The kid takes it surprisingly well, saying that he doesn’t want his mom to get hurt, but that he’s excited to see his Nonna and Nonno again. Marinette tells him that he can contact her any time he wants to talk at her cell phone number, and if he ever wants him to visit, just call.

#

All the buzz of the world seems to die down when they get out of the precinct, and Damian asks whether she’s done this before. 

“I haven’t done anything like this before, but I’ve certainly dreamed of it.” Her eyes look off to a distance. “Abusive parents are the worst.”

“Yours?” Damian can’t imagine this girl’s parents as being abusive, but he should have known better to believe that. Just because someone is stable and competent doesn’t mean that they have a good family-- just look at him and his brothers. They’re competent and stable on good days.

She gasps and looks shocked, verging on offended and embarrassed. “Of course not! My parents are both very sweet people. I love them so much-- I can’t believe I gave you that idea! No, I was talking about a friend’s parent. Anyways, thank you for stepping between me and that woman. You always seem to help me right when I need it.”

Damian doesn’t really think that Marinette needed his help much in any of the situations that he’s seen her. He doesn’t mind the false gratitudes, though it does irk him that he’s never actually helped her. Odd, considering that what little morality he had mostly pertained to life threatening situations, and Marinette’s issues were more in line with everyday annoyances. “And yet you refuse to help me out with Lila.”

Her face immediately sours. “Like I said; class is class. It’s different at Francois Dupont.”

“And why is that?” 

“If you want help catching up or something, I don’t mind helping you outside of class, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s better for you if you’re not seen with me.” Her hand is tight on her purse.

At the risk of feeling like a whiny child, Damian asks again. “But why shouldn’t I be seen with you?”

Marinette sighs, heavily, then looks around at the people on the streets, almost like she’s looking for somebody. “Let’s just say that Lila and I have come to an agreement. The rest of the class isn’t the fondest of me, and if you’re seen talking with me, that will be bad for both of us. I don’t want any problems.”

“Tt. I see.” It seems as though he will also spend some time tonight looking into the history of his class. 

[ladyanput]

Seeing Green Ch.1

Well, I would like to thank @ozmav for the awesome idea for the entire AU and @realrandomposts for inspiring me to finally write this story as well as editing it alongside @zebrabaker. Enjoy, my little darlings!

~~~

It was supposed to be a lovely trip. A fun trip to America, to be shown around a multimillion dollar company that branches in every corporation known to man. Marinette had stayed up countless nights, putting together plans, balancing a budget with Miss Bustier, everything! But there she stood, staring off in the direction of the long departed bus. She hugged herself tightly, as the cold winter air ruffled her clothing. 

They.. They had forgotten her. Left her behind, while they all went off to tour Wayne Enterprises. Without her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat before glancing down at the small purse at her hip and into Tikki's large, worried eyes. She forced a carefree smile, and winked at the kwami.

"Well, Tikki, I did say I wanted to see more of the city. What better way to see it than to walk? It's only a thirty minute walk, it won't be too bad." Marinette widened her grin as she began her trek to Wayne Tower, shoving down the hurt that gripped her chest. Everyone must have been too excited to notice her missing, that was all. She was sure they had realized their mistake, and was waiting for her to catch up. No doubt about it.

As she began walking, she felt those tears rise up again. She dashed them away before any of them could fall. She couldn't lie to herself. It just brought even more pain when the disappointment set in. And it always did.

…

Damian Wayne was not having the best of days. He had woken up late. He rarely woke up late, but being up until four in the morning did not help him with his sleep schedule. So he leaned back into his seat, watching the world go by as his driver took him towards work. He was required to be there, since a class from France was coming to see what they were all about. It felt like a waste of time to Damian, putting on a decently hospitable visage for a bunch of annoying teenagers that could barely speak English, and then dealing with any of the girls trying to flirt with him, because he had the powerful last name of 'Wayne'.

He wished he could change it to Kent some days, to have everyone leave him alone. 

But, alas, his life would never be so simple, now would it?

As soon as the driver pulled up to the company building, Damian bolted out of the car, only to be slammed into by a flurry of pink. He tensed ever so slightly, grabbing who he now saw was a girl, steadying herself before she could fall flat on her face.

He glanced down and gazed into the bluest eyes he had ever seen, and his mind froze. He stared at the girl, with her dark hair, pulling back into a tight ponytail, and a splash of cute freckles across the bridge of her nose..

Cute. Cute was the perfect word for the girl, especially when her lovely face went crimson and she began sputtering apologies in French. But then tried to struggle for English.

"I- I am so sorry, I was in such a rush to catch up with my class, I wasn't watching where I was going!" She stuttered out, her dainty hands pressed firmly against his chest. 

"It's alright, I wasn't watching where I was going either." Damian found himself smiling down at the red faced girl, before removing his firm grip from her shoulders, and taking a step back. "I'm guessing, by the French, that you're a part of the French class that's going on the tour today?"

"Er... Yes, my class left without me, I guess they were so excited for the tour, they left early." The girl smiled at him, and Damian felt like the air had left his lungs. She… She was as beautiful as an angel. He watched as the girl fidget under his gaze, her blush only seeming to get worse. "Do you work here? As an intern or something?"

"Um.. Yes, I work as an intern here. My older brother is going to be leading the tour today. We should probably get inside, before you get left behind by your class." Damian held out his arm to the French girl, who gladly took it, and they strolled inside. "I'm Damian, by the way, it's nice to meet you."

"Marinette. The feeling is mutual."

…

The last thing Marinette was expecting to see was her class standing in the lobby. But there they were, faces filled with annoyed expressions, as Miss Bustier was clearly arguing with the receptionist and the woman standing beside her.

"Please, the students came all this way to enjoy the tour. It's not nice to just keep them standing around, they're going to get tired." Miss Bustier begged with the receptionist, while the younger woman beside her crossed her arms.

"Miss Bustier, with all due respect, you are an hour early. You and your class arrived here early, without calling in advance, and Mr. Grayson is not yet here to give you the said tour, because, as I just stated, our tour does not start for another HOUR." Evangeline Bourbon hissed through clenched teeth, her violet eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Speaking of your class, where is Marinette?"

It was then Bustier blinked in surprise, before glancing back at her gathered class. Immediately, Lila's eyes welled up with tears, and she began sobbing loudly into her hands.

"This is all my fault! Miss Bustier was so kind to try and get us through this tour, because my precious Damidear invited me on a date tonight.." She cried out, before bursting into more dramatic sobs, causing Evangeline and the receptionist to exchange glances and roll their eyes. Ah, the pains of being a teacher's assistant. "A- and now Marinette is trying to slow us all down, because she's jealous of me being in a relationship!"

"Actually, I'm right here." The entire class turned to see Marinette walking up, arm in arm with a tall boy around their age, dressed in a trim charcoal suit, his black hair smoothed back, and his green eyes so sharp, they could pierce your very soul. "I'm so sorry I'm late, no one told me we were leaving early."

"Maybe because nobody wanted you here." Alya grumbled under her breath, before sharing a smirk with Lila.

"Well, since everyone is here, we can all wait for Mr. Grayson." Eva spoke up quickly, cutting off any reprimands Miss Bustier was about to send Marinette's way. She strode over to the duo standing at the entrance, drawing all eyes to her. She was a lovely woman, tall and curvy, with long shiny brown hair and impossibly violet eyes. Eyes full of kindness,but took no bullshit, something that became quickly apparent when she became Miss Bustier's teaching assistant last year. "Marinette, are you okay? Who's your friend?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Miss Bourbon. This is Damian, he offered to escort me to the group, if you guys had taken off without me." Marinette ignored the harsh glares being sent her way by her classmates, before smiling up at the TA, the only ally she seemed to have at school. "But thank you.. For not starting without me."

When Eva smiled, Marinette felt herself relax a bit more, before letting go of Damian's arm, not realizing how tightly she had been gripping it.

"Well, I suppose now I can get out of your hair. Thank you, Damian." Marinette felt her cheeks heat up as she finally stepped away. When he smiled at her, she felt a familiar fluttering in her heart that she hadn't felt in so long… And his eyes were so green, so much greener than Adrien's.

"Marinette, can you please stop eye fucking the guy, before you creep him out." Alya spoke up, her voice echoing through the lobby, causing all eyes to focus on Marinette. There were a few snickers and Mari felt her ears burn. "Wouldn't want to scare him off, like you did with Adrien!"

That caused the class to burst into laughter, while Marinette felt a stab at her heart, instantly taking a large step away from Damian. 

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.." She whispered out, as shame and embarrassment curled in her gut sharply. She watched as a furious expression crossed over his face, and he looked as if he was about to yell.

"Hey, so you must be the group I'm giving the tour to. My name's Dick Grayson, nice to meet you all." Marinette turned towards the voice, her guilt only eating away more as she quickly darted away from Damian. He hated her, thought she was a freak. Just when she thought she could make a friend, Alya had to open her mouth and ruin it all. She held back tears as she glanced up at their tour guide, a tall, handsome man that gave everyone a kind smile. 

"I'm sorry. And thanks again.." Marinette whispered as she glanced back at Damian, who seemed rooted in place, staring at her. "I swear I wasn't looking at you in that way. I'm really sorry."

And she scurried off to join her class as they began their tour, leaving a dumbstruck Damian staring after her.

…

"You should have seen how her classmates treated her! Father, why did you let such a horrible class to come here?!" Damian whirled on his father, as they stood in his impressively large office. Bruce sighed as he saw the blazing fire in his son's eyes, so like his own, then began pacing again. "I trailed behind them for a bit. You should hear what this one girl keeps saying! How she's dating me, how she's such best friends with my brothers, Dirk Greyjoy, Tim Todd, and Jackson Drake!" 

"... I wasn't aware that they behaved in such a way.. If I had known, I wouldn't have invited them." Bruce stood and glanced out his massive window, staring out at the city of Gotham, as he pondered. "Well it's too late now. We'll have to keep a close eye on them, they'll only be in Gotham until the Wayne gala, then they will be back to France, and none of our concern."

"Father… I feel protective of Miss Dupain-Cheng." Damian felt his cheeks heat up at his father's surprised look. But it was true, something about those large blue eyes drew him. "She.. Brings out my Robin instincts. She's being bullied, she's.. She's all alone."

Damian could feel his father staring, trying to read his thoughts, his expression, but he kept on a neutral mask and his body rigid. 

"... Damian.."

"I must be off now, Father. I have duties to attend to." Damian turned on his heel and promptly left before his father could say another word. He didn't stop until he was all the way down in the cafeteria, where the French class was currently having their lunch.

He spotted Marinette immediately. She was sitting all alone, far away from the class who seemed to be swarming around that brown haired girl who had been sprouting bullcrap about him earlier. As he walked by that table, he decided to listen in.

"I called my Damidear, he completely understood that I'd be a little late for our dinner tonight, but he's just so understanding and sweet, saying he got us reservations to the best restaurant in town! I'm thinking he might propose to me tonight!" The girl gushed, as others around her ooh'd and ahh'd at the fairytales she was sprouting. The entire thing just made him want to go over and shake the girl. Who the hell would get engaged at seventeen? Only idiots, that's who. He rolled his eyes and continued on his way.

"Hey, Marinette." Damian smiled at the girl when her head snapped up at the sound of his voice, and those eyes widening, making her look like a deer in headlights. As she began to get up, he reached out and took her hand, taking a seat across from her. "Please, don't run. Listen, what that girl said earlier, I know it isn't true. I... I was actually curious if you wanted to get dinner with me tonight."

He watched the wheels turn in Marinette's head, before that beautiful smile, though more shy, lit up her face. 

"I- I think I would, Dami. That would be really nice."

"Actually, she means no."

Damian watched as Marinette tensed at the voice, before glancing up at a furious looking blond boy standing next to their table, his green eyes blazing.

"She doesn't go around with pompous windbags."

…

Marinette couldn't believe that Adrien had just said that. She was on her feet in seconds, fury flickering through her, but she quickly stamped that flame out.

"Adrien, apologize! There was no reason for you to speak to Damian like that!" She whispered harshly when she grabbed his arm to pull him away. Her crush for the boy had died three years ago, when he kept insisting to never rock the boat with the whole Lila affair.

"You never apologized to Lila for trying to out her, why should I apologize to a guy who's clearly trying to get into your pants?" Adrien asked promptly. He turned back to Damian, puffing out his chest, making Marinette shake her head. "She's not going on a date with some sleazy guy she just met this morning, so I suggest you back off."

"'Agreste, stop it!" Marinette shoved him the hardest she could, sending the model stumbling back a few steps. He stared at her in shock, never before had she lashed out like that, never before had she looked at him in such disgust. Mari shook her head once more, then turned to Damian. "Listen.. I'd like to have dinner with you. But, please, don't feel the need to go all fancy, okay? I think you're a sweet guy, so you've already impressed me enough."

"A- alright then! I will pick you up at seven then?" Marinette felt herself blush more when Damian smiled, making him all that much more handsome. 

"Sounds like a date!" Her cheeks heated up more and she beamed. In her glee, she didn't catch sight of Lila glaring her way, scowling as she plotted a perfect way to ruin that date for Marinette.

[spacesuitsforemergency]

I Hate Myself for Loving You

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You and Roy Harper hated each other, ever since you met. Who knew a dog and an 8 year old would make you realize your true feelings for him.

Pairing: Roy Harper x Barton! Reader

A/N: Scott and Clint’s friendship inspired by Paul Rudd and Jeremy Renners friendship. I’m really happy and proud of how this came out.

“I really don’t see the point in training with them again.” You mumble as your dad practically drags you down a hallway.

“It’s good exposure to others’ styles!” Your dad, the one and only Clint Barton, A.K.A the mighty Avenger Hawkeye, insists. “Besides, Oliver’s a great archer, and Roy and Artemis have different styles than you.”

“Roy and Artemis have sticks up their asses.” You roll your eyes.

“Be nice.” He scolds as you finally reach a large, metal door. “Use your manners, don’t kill anyone. And ask before you take any food.”

“Dad, that rules more directed at you.” You poke his chest.

“Nope, remember when we got invited to Wakanda last weekend?” He reminded.

“They really should put up a sign that says ‘reserved for royalty’.” You shrugged.

You tap your foot impatiently while your dad puts in the code, and it flashes red. He grins nervously at you and tries it again, punching the dial pad when it’s wrong again.

“Having technical difficulties, are we?” You tease him.

“No!” He pouts. “Ollie must’ve given me the wrong code. Let me call him, this will all be resolved.”

You lean against the wall and yawn as your dad talks to Oliver on the phone, then punches in another code. This time it lights up green, and you’re let in.

You follow your dad inside, peering around. You hadn’t been to this facility before, they had come to yours before now. It was a cave of some sorts, but definitely technologically advanced. You see a few heroes your age you recognized from the news, all still in their costumes. Your eyes land on Roy Harper, the most infuriating man on the face of the planet.

“Oh great. You again?” He sneers down at you.

You glare at him and start to charge at him, but your dad ruins your fun and grabs you. You try to pry him off and kick him, but he doesn’t budge. Roy gives you a smug grin that you wished you could wipe off of his stupid face, and you notice the other two archers next to him.

“Sorry about her.” Your dad laughs awkwardly. “She’s a little...aggressive today.”

“I am not aggressive!” You finally kick him in the shin and he drops you, clutching it in pain.

“You are so grounded for that!” Your dad snaps.

“Clint, nice to see you made it past the door.” Oliver chuckled. “And Y/N, please excuse Roy’s comment. He also has some...behavioral issues.” Oliver narrows his eyes at the boy.

“I was just saying.” He shrugs.

“Can we get on with this, please?” Artemis crossed her arms in annoyance from behind Oliver.

“Yes, we should. Follow us.” Oliver says.

Your dad and Oliver strike up conversation and start nerding out over...whatever. You didn’t pay attention, your focus fixated on Roy.

He was strutting ahead of you, head held high and that stupid smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes, glaring daggers at the back of his head.

“So what have you been up to?” Artemis asked you.

“Nothing much. I kicked Falcons ass last Friday though. That was fun.” You shrug.

“No way.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Um, yes way.” You playfully nudge her. “I’ve got in on video, I’ll show you after this torture session.”

“Are you two hens done clucking yet?” Roy asks, stopping at another room.

“Are you done being an asshat?” Artemis sassed back.

“Let’s watch the language, please?” Oliver sighs.

“What? I said hat.” She deadpans.

“Hawkeye and I will demonstrate, then how about we have a little competition?”

“Yeah, whichever one of you gets the most targets gets to...not run 50 laps!” Hawkeye announces.

“Well that’s stupid.” You scoff. “Don’t you know my stamina is not quite up to par lately?”

“Well maybe it would be if you woke up for training on time. Steve has been trying to tell you-“

“If the sun isn’t up, I’m not up.” You cross your arms.

“Oh, so you’re lazy as well as annoying?” Roy raised an eyebrow at you.

“I’m gonna-“ You lunge at him, but he ducks out of the way and you fall on your face.

“Ooh.” Everyone that saw that graceful move winced.

“Wow. So you’re lazy AND bad at aiming.” Roy tsked. “I don’t know if you understand the concept of an archer, but those are some essential attributes-WOAH!” He shrieks when you grab his ankle and tug him down. “Ouch!”

“That’s what you get for mouthing off again.” Oliver shakes his head as your dad pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Get up, losers. I’m ready to beat both of your asses.” Artemis hauls both of you up.

You and Roy glare at each other during the entire demonstration, not paying attention when the pro archers announce the rules and guidelines. You both race each other into the training room, and he growls when you beat him inside.

You bolt after each other as you jump through the course, shoving the other out of the way as you try to hit the target first. He laughs loudly when you miss the first one, then yelps when you shoot an arrow at him, grazing his hair.

“Hey, watch it! I just got it cut!” He whines as you shoot the target.

“Your precious hair is fine, I barely got it.” You rush ahead of him as he loads his bow, aiming for the target in front of you.

You quickly shot an arrow as his nearly hits the target, knocking it out of the way and hitting a bullseye. You turn to give him a cocky grin, yelling when he kicks you out from under your feet. He runs past you, but not before you grab his calf and bring him down with you once again.

“Idiots.” Artemis rolls her eyes as she stomps past the both of you, now wrestling each other on the floor.

You both watch with hopelessness as she hits the very last target, perfectly shooting the center. You groan and flop back down on the floor, dreading the laps you’d have to run. What was even worse, was that you had to run them with Roy. Stupid, arrogant, idiotic Roy Harper.

You had known the guy for exactly 3 weeks now, and you already hated him. You hated how he thought he was better than you. You hated how he smirked at you all smugly. You hated how he was actually really hot. He was buff and surprisingly a good shot. You will never say that though, his ego was clearly way too high for someone his height.

“Artemis, go treat yourself to some down time. You two ding dongs, get running!” Oliver shouts over to the two of you, still sprawled out on the ground.

Roy sighs as he gets up, and offers you a hand. You slap it away and get up yourself, and he raises his hands in surrender. You both get started on your laps, and on your 32nd one you’re about ready to pass out. You groan as you hold your head, feeling dizzy and faint.

“Can’t handle some light running?” Roy comes up behind you, grinning at first before he notices you’re sweating and your pupils are dilated. “Hey, are you okay?”

You respond by blacking out, and he quickly catches you in his arms. You drift in and out of consciousness as he yells for help, your dad and Dick Grayson rushing over to you. Your dad says something, but it’s echoey and indecipherable to you. Roy holds a water bottle to your mouth, helping you drink a few sips.

“...yo. Y/N, wake up.” Your dad lightly smacks your face. You blink a few times, slowly sitting up with Roy and Dicks help.

“That is the dumbest way to wake someone up.” You groan.

“You good?” He asked. “You didn’t drink enough water today, did you?”

“I had...some.” You mumble.

“Y/N!” He scolded.

“I got distracted!” You defend yourself. “It’s not my fault Lucky kept barking at me to take him for a walk!”

“You need to rehydrate yourself.” Dick says. “Your done with laps for the day.”

“Yes!” You grin as your dad helps you stand up. “Maybe I should be dehydrated more often.”

“No!” They all yell at you.

“Alright, Alright.” You mumble, trying to blink black spots out of your vision.

“I think we’re gonna head home.” Clint tells the others. “Thanks for helping her, Roy.”

“Sure.” He acted like it was nothing, but the voice in the back of his mind was telling him to worry and panic.

Roy watches as your dad leads you out of the cave, and he plops down onto the couch. He stared blankly at the tv, which was playing some horror movie Wally and Dick had put on.

He totally wasn’t worried about you at all! And he definitely didn’t freak out when he saw your eyes roll back in your head. His heart obviously didn’t drop when you passed out into his arms. He wasn’t concerned about your well being in the slightest. He hated you! You were annoying and you thought you were the better archer just because your dad was a famous Avenger.

“Dude, you good?”

“What?” His attention snapped back to reality, seeing Dick and Wally staring at him, Artemis, Megan and Kaldur snooping from the kitchen.

“Bro, what is wrong with you?” Wally laughed at him.

“Nothing!” Roy glared at his fellow red head.

“Your face is red, you’re sweating, and you’re bouncing your leg.” Dick blinked at him.

“He’s got the L word!” Wally sang, zipping over to Roy and slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“I don’t have time for this.” Artemis shook her head and left, Megan and Kaldur walking over.

“The L word?” Megan asked.

“Shut up, Wallace!” Roy hissed before he could even open his mouth.

“Dude, you’re crushing on Barton?” Dick snickered.

“Isn’t he a little old for you?” Megan asked.

“The other Barton.” Kaldur whispered to her.

“Ohhhh!” She said. “You guys didn’t know that?”

“You knew?” Wally asked.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dick asked.

“I do not have a crush on Y/N!” Roy stood up defensively. “You guys are stupid!”

“Roy and Y/N, sittin’ in a tree.” Wally sang, much to Roy’s annoyance.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Dick joined in, Kaldur chuckling and Megan just wondering what they were doing.

Roy rolled his eyes and stormed off, trying to block out their idiotic singing. He would deal with those punks later, but right now he had a lot of thinking to do.

•

“Wait, they’re coming here?” You trail behind your dad as he goes to the kitchen. “I thought only Uncle Scott and Cassie were gonna be here tonight!”

“Yes, for the football game, dear.” He sighs, patting your head teasingly. “I told you this last week. Now clean up the dog toys.”

“I get why Oliver’s coming, but why does Roy have to?” You complain, ignoring your dads order. “Can’t he watch it by himself? I would say with his friends but it’s hard to imagine he has any.”

“Y/N, he’s coming. And he’ll be here in 20 minutes, so pick up the damn toys.” He says, sternly this time.

You roll your eyes at him but oblige, picking up Lucky’s toys that he leaves everywhere. Once your done you rush to your room, making sure you look presentable.

Wait, why did you care? You hated Roy. He was an arrogant asshole, and a total dick. You hated how slick and charming he was, you hated his stupid smile and wanted to smack it off his face. His smile was dashing and gorgeous, but it made you furious. No, you didn’t really hate him. You hated how he made you feel. Vulnerable and...ew, giddy. You weren’t into all that lovey-dovey shit, no matter how many romcoms and chick flicks your father forced you to watch with him.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the doorbell ring, and you hear Cassie happily saying hi to Uncle Clint. You check your appearance one more time, before walking out.

“Y/N!” Cassie runs towards you and hugs your legs. “We brought chips and salsa!”

“You did?” You smile as you kneel down to hug her properly.

“Well, half a bag of chips and what’s left of Hope’s salsa.” Uncle Scott shrugs, holding said bag out of Lucky’s reach as he jumps up. “So I hear we’re meeting some fellow archers?”

“Yup, my friend Oliver and his old protege.” Your dad nods as he tosses Scott a can of beer, and tugs Lucky off of him. “And Y/N’s arch nemesis.”

“What’s an arch nemesis?” Cassie asked, her innocent eyes peering up at you.

“Nothing, Cass.” You ruffle her hair, and she just shrugs and wanders over to your dad. “Uncle Clint, do you have any paper? Daddy forgot it.”

“Of course we do, come on.” Your dad leads her to the laundry room, which is in the back of the kitchen.

You notice your Uncle Scott grinning at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. That was never a good sign.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing.” He takes a sip of beer.

“Scott...” you warn.

“You don’t actually hate this guy, do you?” He asks.

“No, I do.” You shake your head. “He’s inferior in every sense of the word.”

“Mmmmhmmmm.” He pursed his lips, that evil glint never leaving his eyes.

“Uncle Scott!”

“Fine! Okay, I’ll drop it.” He chuckled in amusement.

It’s silent for a few moments.

“Is he cute?”

“Scott!”

Then the doorbell rings, and dread washes over you. You suddenly get a little anxious, now nervous about how the night was gonna go. Your Uncle Scott goes to the living room and turns on the tv, peaking over the edge of the couch as you open the door.

“Wassup, man?” Your dad shouts from the kitchen.

“Wassup, dude?” Oliver walks past you, Roy awkwardly following behind.

You shut the door and begin the usual glaring match with Roy, but quickly drop it when your dad carries pizza boxes to the living room, Oliver behind him with soda, beer and chips. Lucky runs over when he smells new people, immediately jumping up on Roy in excitement. Roy lets the dog sniff his hands, but jumps back when he barks at him.

“Ha! Even the dog doesn’t like you!” You laugh at him.

“Oh, haha, very funny.” He says sarcastically as he nudges Lucky away from him with his foot.

“Lucky, come on, boy.” You giggle, taking pity on Roy and pulling your dog away from him, then pat his head. “Good boy, protect us from the scary man.”

“Wow, you’re just so funny tonight.” Roy says dryly, despite the grin on his face. He goes to join the guys on the couch, while you lead Cassie and Lucky to the dining room.

Your dining room is connected to the kitchen and entryway, giving you a view of the back of the couch and the tv. You listen to Cassie as she draws and tells you about her dads latest adventure. Your eyes keep drifting to Roy, even though you can only see the back of his head, and part of his face when he occasionally turns to talk.

“Who’s he?” Cassie whispers to you, even though they would never hear anything you said over their cheering, complaining and hollering.

“That’s Roy.” You tell her. “I work with him sometimes.”

“Is he your partner?” She asks. “Like Daddy and Hope?”

“Kind of, Yeah.” You nod. “Well, actually, exactly.”

“So is he your boyfriend?” She asks innocently, and you nearly choke on your soda.

“Um, I guess not exactly. No, he’s not my boyfriend.” You shake your head, clearing your throat of soda.

“Really? But you looked at him like Hope looks at my daddy.” She says.

“What? When?” You ask. You feel sort of ridiculous, defending yourself against an 8 year old, who barely understood the concept of love in the first place.

“At the door. When Lucky attacked him.” She giggled, reaching down to pet the dog, who’s laying under her chair and staring up at you to beg for food. “Hope looks at daddy like that all the time.”

“Does she, now?” You raise an eyebrow, tossing Lucky the rest of your pizza crust.

“Yup.” She nodded, turning back to her drawing.

You look back over to the guys, smiling in amusement when your dad and Oliver cheer, Roy and Uncle Scott groaning. Roy stands up, grabbing empty pizza boxes and soda cans. You quickly turn back to Cassie as he makes his way over, pretending to have been listening to her the whole time. Lucky growled as he got closer, but you ordered the dog to ‘stay’, and thankfully he did. You didn’t need to deal with your dog biting Roy or anything.

Roy tried not to look at you as he passes, he has to remain inconspicuous. He steals a few glances while he stuffs the pizza boxes into the trash, smiling softly as you laugh at one of Cassie’s stories. He’s surprised you’re so good with kids, since all he knows is your guys’ little rivalry attitudes. It’s actually really cute, your kind and gentle smile makes his heart skip a beat.

You look over at him when you realize he’s been standing there for a few more seconds than he needed to, making eye contact with him. It takes a moment for him to realize he had been caught, clearing his throat and quickly rushing back to the couch, keeping an eye on the growling retriever. You turn back to Cassie and you both giggle. Even the little 8 year old understood what just happened.

“What’s so funny, back there?” Scott turns around to see his daughter and non-biological niece grinning at the back of Roy’s head.

“Nothing.” You both sing, and you turn to signal Cassie to be quiet. You both giggle again when Scott stares at the two of you in confusion.

After the game is over you say goodbye to Cassie and Uncle Scott, then start to clean up. Your dad and Oliver are still chatting away, so it was looking like Roy would also be staying for awhile, since Ollie was his ride.

“Need help?” He asked after he got bored of listening to the two men talk about physics and shit.

“Uh, I guess.” You shrug as you pick up the drawings Cassie made, then gather all the blank paper. “Just grab the trash from the living room, I’ve got this covered.”

“Cool.” He nodded, before doing as you told.

You both clean everything up quickly, then it’s awkward silence again as your mentors blab on and on about arrows, coffee and hero business. Lucky is on the couch, watching the both of you over the back of it. It’s actually quite funny, his eyes fixed on Roy, which made him uncomfortable that a dog was giving him a death glare.

“We have a dart board and pool table in the basement.” You suggest after awhile. “Little competition?”

“Anything’s better than listening to the two grandpas over there talk about taxes.” He agrees.

“Hey! We are very interesting people!” Oliver snaps playfully.

“No killing each other! I’m not driving anyone to the hospital if you decide you throw a dart at the others face!” Your dad shouts as you lead Roy to the basement door.

“I promise!” You call over your shoulder as Lucky barrels over, running downstairs before you can grab him.

“Oh great.” Roy mumbles as you shut the door and take the lead. “Is your dog gonna jump me as soon as I get down there?”

“Lucky’s harmless, you big baby.” You tease, flicking the light on and seeing Lucky had claimed his spot on the couch.

Your basement was pretty big, you and your dad had turned it into, essentially, a man cave. You had a bigger tv down here, and a smaller couch. On the other side of the room there was a pool table and a display rack, where you kept bows and arrows that were either your dads old ones or collectibles. On the other side of the room there was a stereo system that lined the wall, which sat on top of shelves of CDs, vinyls, and mixtapes. The carpet was a hideous red, which your dad insisted looked good. Yeah, maybe in the olden days, pops. Lastly, across from the pool table was a dart board mounted to the wall, Robin Hood: Men in Tights posters on either side (which Scott has gotten as a joke).

“Dang, cool place.” Roy said as he looked around the large room.

“Thanks. It’s mostly my dads stuff from the 80s.” You say. “Y’know how adults are about that stuff.”

“Oh yeah.” He nods.

“Now, ready to get your ass beat?” You grin, picking up the box of darts.

You play 3 games of darts, to which he won and made fun of you over. You had started up the stereo, playing your dads 80s rock mixtape to fill the moments of silence. Then you began to play pool, making quips and laughing if the other missed.

You watched as he lined up his cue, lips pursing and eyes narrowing in concentration. You watch his muscles flex as he prepares, catching yourself totally checking him out. You blush to yourself, thankful he was too focused on beating you to notice.

“Yeah, good luck winning now.” He says cockily as he straightens back up, smirking down at you smugly.

“Thanks.” You flick his nose, before lining your cue up.

You carefully calculate how this will end, grinning when you find the perfect angle. You cheer in victory as you pot the 8 ball, winning the game. He throws down the cue, as you gloat to him. You drop the cue as if dropping a mic, singing that you won in his face.

“Alright, I get it.” He pouts, despite the amused smile making its way to his face.

“So who has the better aim? Who’s better than you? That’s right. Me.” You boast, playfully shoving his chest as Joan Jett starts singing from the stereo speakers.

“You know, you should learn when to shut up.” He growls under his breath.

“Excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow.

Your eyes widen when he pulls you forward, crashing his lips into yours. You stiffen at first, completely stunned. You quickly get over it though, grabbing the sides of his face to bring him farther down to you.

He backs you up, then taps the back of your thigh to silently signal you to jump. You hop up onto the pool table, making it so he doesn’t have to lean down so far to kiss you. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, the other squeezing your thigh as you wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands move from his face down his torso, your hands sliding up his shirt and pressing against his abs. You part your lips to deepen the kiss, both of your tongues fighting for dominance. You feel him smirk into the kiss when he wins, but you don’t feel the need to particularly care in the moment.

Suddenly he jerks back, and at first you think he changed his mind or you did something wrong. Then you see Lucky, who had woken up from his nap and seen what looked to him like Roy attacking you. He tugged at the hem of Roy’s jeans, effectively knocking him to the ground. You doubled over in laughter as your dog climbed on top of Roy, nipping at his arm, which he had held up to block his face.

“Are you just going to sit there or are you going to call off the hound?” He asks desperately, trying to push the large golden retriever off of him.

“Lucky! Lucky, down boy.” You wheeze from laughter, gesturing for the dog to come to you as you jump down from the pool table.

You continue to die of laughter as Lucky happily bounces over to you, Roy slowly getting up and brushing himself off. You pet your dog, laughing so hard you snort when Lucky growls at Roy.

“What is going on down there?” You hear Oliver shout down the steps.

“I told you no murdering each other!” Your dad reminds.

“I don’t think Lucky likes Roy!” You call up, trying to hold back your laughter, since your sides were starting to ache by now.

“Lucky! Come here, boy!” Your dad calls in his ‘puppy voice’. Lucky bolts up the stairs, probably hoping that meant more leftover pizza crusts.

“Roy! It’s time to go!” Oliver yells.

“I’ll be up in a minute!” Roy shouts to him, then turns to you.

“Are you okay?” You giggle at him.

“Fine.” He mumbles, making his way towards the stairs. “Uh, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” You nod, watching him head up the stairs. Then you rush after him and grab his hand. He turns back around and you tug him down by the collar of his shirt into another kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you so that your body was pressed against his.

“Roy!”

“I’m coming!” He breaks the kiss, yelling at his mentor, annoyance evident in his voice. He turns back to you, voice and expression softening. “How about I pick you up tomorrow? No interruptions.”

“Sounds great.” You smile up at him.

He gives you one last kiss, before going upstairs. You grin and giggle to yourself in happiness as soon as the door closes, then fall onto the couch. You grab your phone out of your pocket, excited to tell your Uncle Scott about the amazing night you just had, and the date confirmed for tomorrow.

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Batman: War Games - Worst Comic Event Ever? Probably!

I had so many fucking thoughts about this trash fire of an event comic, guys.

War Games might genuinely be one of the worst things that have ever happened to comics. It's riddled with horrific art, bad writing, bad treatment of beloved characters. The few attempts at brevity, goodness, or even relief are frequently undercut by homophobia, rape jokes, transphobia, and sexism.

As a fan of multiple of the storylines which were interrupted to produce this all-time low in comic event storytelling, and a fan of characters who were fridged, character assassinated, or otherwise shoved aside in favor of a narrative where Batman shoves aside his family and is more convinced than ever that he is right and blameless in the events that happen... it was awful.

Detective Comics #796 might just be one of the only worthy reads in the entire book: Stephanie Brown comes to blows with Zsasz in her time as Robin, and the art is good, Bruce expresses concern and care for her, and in that issue, we can almost see what could have been a better story, where the two of them learned and grew together.

(More below the cut)

A highlight that I did not expect, however, was the Batman 12 Cent Adventure by Devin Grayson, which was probably one of the most empathetic perspectives into Steph’s mind at the time, and clearly showing how she had been set up to fail. Through this book, we see the set up for the War Game, in a much more detailed way than we saw pretty much anywhere else throughout the book, and we also got a brief history of the Bat Family told two ways—the way that Steph knows it, and the way that we, the reader, know it actually happened, because Steph doesn’t know most of the family’s secret identities, and is in the dark about some of the fundamentals.

What can I even say about Steph’s treatment in this comic that hasn’t already been said, that isn’t part of the narrative of War Games? Maybe I could mention the horrifically porn traced torture drawings. The way that the torture is clearly stylized as sexual assault. The way that Steph is insulted, belittled, and poorly treated, even beyond the torture and fridging. The way that this was supposed to be how her story ended. As a fan of Steph, it was horrible to read. I cannot emphasize enough how new fans seeking Steph content, should avoid this series. Reading Detective Comics 796 and her issues as Robin in Robin and Batgirl… and just… never pick up War Games properly. Don’t be like me.

The Robin issues by Willingham were… fine, if frequently sexist, and continuing the comics tradition of treating male sexual assault as harmless or a joke (Tim is forcibly kissed by a fellow student, and is cheered on for it, despite having made clear to Darla that he is already in a relationship. Later, he ends up taking her on a pseudo-date for hot cocoa. There were a few nice moments squeezed in; Tim at one point says that Stephanie and Bruce had a good relationship and brought a levity to the role that was good for Bruce… right before claiming that her making Bruce joke wasn’t that big of a deal because the joke was “rudimentary.”

Catwoman was decent enough; I’m a fan of Brubaker in general, and the bits where Selina got to bond with Steph, do her own thing, and protect the East End were lovely… but so many of the infamous torture panels occur in this book that it’s hard for me to say that these issues were worth reading.

Orpheus and Onyx though… hoo boy. Onyx had some fun moments throughout the series, being battle buddies with Cass, chatting casually with Deadshot, and things like that. But in the end, the overwhelming awfulness of Batman coercing a black vigilante into becoming a gang leader, and then the vigilante being murdered, and his face literally worn as a mask, was bad. Bruce getting Orpheus to become the leader of the Hill Gang also undercuts his own argument that he had never intended to implement the War Game to give himself control over all of Gotham’s organized Crime… because he had put Orpheus where he was specifically to control one gang already. Orpheus was done so dirty, and he and Onyx deserve to get to come back and be treated better.

Batgirl had some nice individual moments when the story focused on Steph and Cass’s relationship: Cass desperately searching for her best friend and the last time the two of them met was absolutely heartbreaking, but the rest of it was generally just more of the same, constant fighting, and it’s her sections that get to feature the transphobic joke, on top of the sexism that permeates this entire event. Cass doesn’t get too much to do in this story, which is a real pity, since I think her book was one of the strongest from this era.

Nightwing was infuriating for the simple fact of when in the Nightwing the story takes place: barely after Nightwing’s assault at the hands of Tarantula. Tarantula is given a heroic story here, protecting young children who had been recruited into gangs, and even being appointed one of Batman’s top lieutenants in the crisis. She’s referred to as Dick’s stalker, but this is treated as a joke, and she touches him and flirts with him constantly, and the only negative consequences are that Oracle becomes jealous and insults both her and Dick.

Oracle is treated generally pretty poorly in this story, snapping at everyone, insulting Cass and Dick, and while some of it could be understandable given the situation, it’s kind of annoying that so many of her early appearances in the series are playing her up as a jerk. But in the end, Babs comes through in what would be, in any other story, a brilliant ending concept, but instead ends up being undercut by the rest of the story. Trapped in the Clocktower by the Black Mask, with Batman coming to her rescue, Batman is so furious about the War that he no longer cares if he lives or dies, and is even willing to kill the Mask. To pull him out of it, Babs activates the Clocktower’s self-destruct sequences, forcing Batman to chose between vengeance and his purpose as a hero, saving her life rather than killing the Black Mask. What undercuts it, though, is that Bruce’s rage is made out to be not about the destruction that the Mask has caused, or even about Stephanie Brown, who was tortured and is dying in the hospital, but instead, about the failure of his plan. So… nearly good, I suppose.

And Leslie. Leslie is right up there with Steph and Orpheus in terms of horrible treatment. DC has never been good at understanding pacifism. Leslie yells at Cass for saving her life, constantly claims that superheroes do more harm than good, and denies Steph life-saving treatment. The character ends the series exiled to Africa, with Bruce telling her never to come back, a character who was functionally his foster-mother, and one of the most important older women in the Batman books.

War Games is emblematic of some of the worst Batman writing: the character is pig headed, cruel, and even abusive, but we are told by the narrative that he's smarter than everyone, so they should just deal with it. Repeatedly characters try to call him out on his behavior, but he tells them to stop whining and deal with it, and even when his actions backfire, it’s portrayed as a tragic inevitability that he is not held accountable for.

And the ending goes out of the way to explain that it's not his fault that beloved character Stephanie Brown died, not really, it was because mean old pacifist Leslie Thompkins was overtaken by the "Batman is blameless" virus and decided to deny a girl medical treatment. Batman declares that what happened was a war crime, and there must be war trials, but in the end, he fails to take any responsibility for his own actions, and inflicts massive amounts of trauma on the entire city.

In short? Don’t read War Games!

[foxydivaxx]

TOP 10 DC YOUNG HEROES THAT DESERVE BETTER

I have noticed something and that is that the younger heroes do not get as much love as the older generation and are often stuck in their shadow and often times, do not get their own stories. I personally think it is unfair hence why I titled this post the way I did.

This young kids are as awesome as the older generation yet I feel that there is this conspiracy against them. These are the ones that suffered the most. (Note: All the young kid heroes have suffered enough at the hands of DC’s writers tbh)

10 Donna Troy

This lady is very underrated and part of the frustration regarding her has to do wit her confusing backstories. Like seriously DC, make up your damn minds?! Who is Donna Tory?! In case most of you aren’t aware, she is the second Wonder Girl after Diana (that is if you follow the Silver age mentality) But if you ignore the Silver age, that would make her the first Wonder Girl. Let’s not talk about New 52 that turned her into a bloodthirsty Amazon, a similar mistake they made with all the Amazons during that era. 

9 Blue Beetle

This guy has a very interesting backstory and powers but for some reason DC sometimes does not know what to do with him. He was ok in Teen Titans but he lost all the steam he got come New 52 just like the other kids.

8 Cassie Sandsmark

A victim of bad writing alongside her fellow Wonder Girl Donna Troy. DC almost always make this one the bitch whereas in Young Justice which was responsible for fleshing her out, she was portrayed as a much nicer levelheaded person. Her run with Teen Titans (her earlier one by the way) was actually good and decent until they butchered her character with unnecessary angst following Superboy’s death and turned her into a bitch not just Post-crisis but also throughout most of New 52. 

7 Static

One of my favourite black superheroes. Got introduced to him via that cartoon of his years ago and also I read some of the comics. Seriously he is underrated and needs to be pushed more.

6 Roy Harper

There is nothing more insulting than DC recently killing Roy off and in a very brutal way. Like come on DC, you can do better than that? What is the propaganda against the younger generation? Plus Roy was actually getting better for crying out loud. 

5 Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain

I put this two together for one good reason; why did DC decide that it will be good to undo the character development they got and then shaft those two aside and then reinstate Barbara as Batgirl plus de-age Barbara? Could their shipping agenda have something to do with this? If that is the case, then that is fucked up. I have nothing against Barbara but she was much better as Oracle. Stephanie and Cass are awesome Batgirls and valuable members of the Batfamily in their own right but DC almost always forgets about them especially Cassandra.

4 Starfire

Speaking of Barbara, there is one other female that could do with some more exposure and character development and that is Dick Grayson’s other ex Starfire. She has spent enough time on Earth so why keep on writing like a fish out of water? By now, she should understand Earth’s customs well enough plus she can be a badass lady in her own right. Why drag her down and try to make her dumb bimbo when she is a very intelligent lady?

3 Wally West

Don’t get me started on this guy. He is an awesome guy for crying out loud and this is how DC treats him?! Like seriously they are dumb asses!! Wally is such a fan awesome character and I love reading stories with him not just for the humour but because I enjoy the bond he shares with the other heroes.

2 The Robins

All of them (gonna add Stephanie here folks) have been through hell. There is Dick whom DC are trying to force us to rename Ric after he got shot and lost his memories (Fuck you DC!!) There is Jason who is currently mentoring Damian and the two doing some not so nice things (Where did all that character development go?!) And there is Tim who is stuck in a limbo at the moment because they do not know what to do with him. Oh let us not get started with Stephanie and the injustice that she suffered. The quality of comic book writing has declined sharply and it is really frustrating and annoying. 

1 In short every former and present Titan/Teen Titan/Young Justice member

Every single kid that has been a part of these teams have all suffered some sort of decay at the hands of the writers. That is why most fanfiction stories are often times better than the trash DC shoves down our throats. 

[ivedonestranger]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Teen Titans (Animated Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson/Raven Characters: Raven (DCU), Robin (DCU), Victor Stone, Garfield Logan, Koriand'r (DCU) Additional Tags: Action/Adventure, Magic, robrae - Freeform, Angst, Humor Series: Part 2 of Candy Series Summary:

Who would have thought a choice could lead to so much pain?

--------------------------

FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13299019/2/Raven-s-Wish

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022185/chapters/46219351

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The evening was warm but not in an uncomfortable sense. It was just a few notches below muggy, which felt comfortable with just the right amount of breeze. The raging heat of summer would descend on Jump City shortly, but for now, Raven was enjoying it. It was better than the tower right now. She had another minor bout of whatever was plaguing her and Robin was being overprotective. Raven grimaced at the memory of them raising their voices over the disagreement of her going out on patrol. She, of course, won the argument but her love was not happy.

Since the level of crime from super villains had dropped considerably with interest moving to other portions of the country, the Titans had gone from double patrols to single patrols allowing for a mixture of being approachable by the citizens and also for more coverage. Back at base, Cyborg was on camera duty but silent in her ear.

Raven floated down the dark streets wrapped in the shadows of her cloak with the orange street lights catching the gem on her forehead once in a while. All that was left on the street were the young men and women on dates hurrying their way home and the criminal nightlife coming to the surface. Of course, the low criminal lives were staying in the shadow. She had already seen a few people wearing gang colors see her floating down the sidewalk, turn pale, and disappear quickly back into the alleys.

The story of what she had done to Doctor Light many years ago had permeated through Jump City, which made ordinary people unsure about her and the non-super powered criminals scared witless. Even now she could sense the fear from a few of the guys standing on street corners trying not to look like the pimps they were. T street was the home of much of the city's scum preying on the poor who could not move to better places. Their very own Gotham Wards. This is where she had decided to patrol.

“Almost like you’re looking for a fight,” Cyborg had commented when she handed in her itinerary for patrol.

“They deserve protection like anyone else in Jump City,” Raven answered evenly as she opened a portal to make her way to the city.

“Sure it is,” he waved her off as he had started the cameras. “just try not to beat them too senseless.”

One rather horribly dressed man with white, sallow skin had not seen her coming down the street and was yanking a scantily clad girl with too much makeup around. Raven narrowed her eyes as the other pimps were smart enough to clear the road. She alighted right beside him.

“Listen here, you dumb whore, when I tell you to----” he noted that the girl’s eyes had gone wide and whatever color that had been in her face was now gone. He turned to see the cloak there, and his face broke into a sneer.

“What do you fucking want?” he growled at her, shoving the woman aside.

A smirk crossed Raven’s face, hidden in the shadows of her cloak. This moron had no clue who she was. Raven turned to the girl who had taken three steps away from them.

“Go home,” her voice came out laced with magic and power. The girl did not even argue or look back at the man who tried to stop her. She had already been fleeing down the road.

"Who the hell do you think you are messin' with my product," he growled shoving at her. Raven let him touch her cloak and gave to the push. It would have been so easy to snap that arm.

“Is that how you treat women?” Raven asked with a growl letting the anger she had been keeping down come to the surface.

"I can treat them any way I want to ‘cause that's how it works out here," he said again. His tone had changed, which meant he noted her voice was that of a woman.

'Go ahead, get cocky,' Raven thought to herself darkly. 'Give me another reason to beat you to a pulp.'

“What are you doing out here so late, sweetie?” he said reaching out to tug down her hood but Raven moved her head slightly, making him miss. “You looking for a new pimp to help you get some cash?”

“Lassiter!” screamed a male voice from down the street. “What the hell are you doing?”

Lassiter turned to gesture to the mystic Titan who still had not moved.

“Got a new bitch here thinking she can tell me what to do.”

“You FUCKING moron!” the man yelled back. “That’s Raven!”

“Raven?” Lassiter asked with a shrug. “Who cares what her name is?”

“Raven of the Titans you ass-hat. Run before she rips your arms off!”

Lassiter's head snapped back at the name of her team, and she could see the realization sinking in of the situation he was actually in. He moved, but only a step when Raven unleashed her soul self, the black tendrils exploding out from under her cloak tangling him up and slamming him on the ground. It picked him up again and slammed him against the alley wall before letting him fall to the ground.

“I have a particularly nasty dislike for people in your line of work,” Raven seethed.

The pimp crawled back through the alley desperately trying to put distance between himself and the dark sorceress that was hovering closer, her white eyes burning brilliantly in the blackness of her hood.

“Pppp..p…...ppleaseee,” he whined.

"You've got a choice," Raven growled at him. "You walk right now to the JCPD and confess your sins to them, or I shall drag you to the pits of hell where you can meet true monsters."

“I’ll do anything!” he pleaded sense the oozing presence of her demon half.

“You better because I know what you smell like. I’ll find you if you fail your end of the bargain.”

Without any other comment, the man went sprinting down the alley vanishing. She set herself back down and allowed the power around her to dissipate. She felt in a better mood and doubted the criminal would actually turn himself in.

Looking about, she found that she had gone quite a distance down the alley and into a little culdesac of doors and backways, a hidden neighborhood made up of the buildings around. Not usually a safe place for an average person unless you knew what you were doing. She could see the closed stands and the signs that life did live here away from the bustle of the main streets. A few homeless shacks had sprung up, and there was a burning barrel deeper in the catacombs of alleyways.

“That was quite an amazing display of control,” a soft voice spoke to her from her right.

Raven's head snapped around to see a decently dressed man in a gray button-up, brown slacks and a teacup with saucer in his hands. She detected the scent of a strong cinnamon tea coming from his cup. He was sitting on the back steps, the light shining out from his home illuminating the darkness. Raven could make out the tight dark curls of his head and distinctly middle eastern voice.

“That anger though, it must get the better of you sometimes," he continued taking a sip and seemingly ignoring the fact that a sorceress was standing in front of him.

A pang of irritation shot through her. This was the first time that anyone normal human had not even flinched or showed no emotion of the fact of what she was and what she was capable of doing.

“Tea?” he offered. “Might want to talk about that anger?”

Raven gave a growl in response and floated on and up, leaving the man where he sat. She glanced down and found that he had not even bothered to look up and watch her go. He had simply gone back to his tea and the little book that sat on his lap.

Landing on the 9 story building and finally being out of the stench of the alley, she basked in the moonlight and breeze that blew over the rooftop. Of course, there were taller buildings, but they formed a tunnel allowing the breeze to cleanse her pallet. Who the hell was he? Why did his presence throw her off so much?

She wanted to resist the urge to peer over and look again. Raven did not want to look like she was the one bitten by curiosity. It was the tinkling laugh that reached her ears. So familiar that it brought a light blush to her cheeks. Floating over to the edge, Raven leaned over just enough to see down and saw her.

Her pink hair was done up like two horns, the purple dress, the black choker around the lovely gray throat. How could she ever miss the familiar profile of Jinx?

"Miss Jinx," the man said, standing and putting the book in his pocket. "Hopefully you did not come to any harm?"

"Sorry I'm late, Mister al-Salehi," she said, extending her hand. He took it, gave it a shake, and then kissed the top of it. Raven felt a flare of jealousy but repressed it. She had no room to go down any of the feelings she had for Jinx. Robin, of course, knew all about it as they sat down in their first week and talked extensively of the pinkette and Raven's relationship with her. Robin was such a wonderful man who listened with no judgment. He knew she was bisexual and had feelings for the hex witch at one point. Robin was her love now, but sometimes the strange ache would sneak up when she wasn't paying attention.

“Please come in, my dear, we have a lot to cover,”

Criminal mischief. Jinx was back in town and planning illegal activities.

“Raven to Cyborg,”

"Wha…! Oh! Raven. What's up?" Cyborg came back, confused.

Raven narrowed her eyes though he was not there to see it. “You were asleep, weren’t you?”

“No comment. What’s up, girl?”

“Jinx.”

“What about her?”

“She’s back in Jump City. I stumbled on to a criminal meet up with someone in an alley.”

"Tracking your location…. You're near Seven Devils Alley. Not a great place to be Raven. Got a lot of magic users who are known to live there."

“It’s quiet at the moment. If she’s in town, Her team has got to be here. HIVE might be planning something here.”

Cyborg hesitated, and Raven huffed with impatience.

“What?”

“Didn’t she like...go straight or mercenary or something?”

"Mercenaries are criminals too, Cyborg," Raven growled.

“So, what’s the plan then?”

"I can't get in right now without a plan, I think we need to get this place set up for stakeout. We might be able to stop them before it starts."

With that, she flew up into the night sky and made her way back to her patrol route, trying not to think of the blueberry scent that haunted her dreams.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Friends Don’t Lie - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Talia al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Damian Wayne Summary: It’s what friends are for. A/N: This is purely platonic. Damian doesn’t know now, but probably finds out eventually about Jon’s meetings with his parents and Clark, and has just never been so embarrassed in his entire life. But also never felt so warm and fuzzy inside about it either, so. Jon’s sort-of mission is a success. Kiddo just wants people to be nice, dang it.

~~

He told his parents he was going to Damian’s. He told Damian he had to stay home and finish some homework.

So no one would miss him. No one would even realize he was gone until he was back, so. He was golden.

Despite everything Damian had told him about his past, and the place he grew up – no one attacked him when he arrived. The assassins, in fact, kneeled as he passed, already in block formations that created a singular path for him to follow.

And – he wasn’t scared. He surprised himself. He wasn’t scared of the woman he was going to see, even with the last time he saw her. The only time he met her. When she threatened her own son’s life because it amused her, tried to drag him into a situation he wanted nothing to do with.

He wasn’t scared of Talia al Ghul.

If he was honest with himself, he actually thought she was kind of cool. Strong and smart and fierce, a little like his own mom.

(But his mom was way cooler.)

She was waiting for him in what looked like a throne room. More assassins were in here, but just a few. Guards, Jon guessed. Not like Talia couldn’t easily hold her own, obviously.

She wasn’t sitting in the large, red velvet chair, but rather standing in front of it, arms clasped behind her back, watching him approach.

“I won’t take it easy on you because you’re a child.” She warned as he stopped in front of her. “Or because of who your father is.”

“That’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to.” And then a little smile, mostly for himself. “Damian sure doesn’t.”

Talia gave a little nod, as if that was the right answer, and Damian might have been punished if Jon had said otherwise. “And to what do I owe this visit?”

Jon twisted his lips in thought. “…Damian, I guess.”

“My son sent you?”

“No, I’m here for Damian.” Jon attempted. “To defend him.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Talia admitted.

“You called him your weapon.” Jon said simply. “And I’m here to tell you that he’s not. He’s not your weapon or anyone else’s. He’s not a weapon at all. He’s a person, and I’m going to make sure you and everyone else treats him like one.”

“Is that so?” Talia asked with amusement. “And I’m assuming your father will be helping you in this venture, correct?”

“If he wants to, I guess.” Jon shrugged. “Really, I’m just talking about me, Miss…uh…Damian’s Mom. I don’t really care what anyone else does. Damian is my friend, and I’m just trying to make sure no hurts him anymore. Especially people he cares about.” Jon paused. “…Especially his family.”

Talia raised her eyebrow in question, mulling over his words for a moment. “Damian is my son, and I will do to and with him what I please.”

“Not if it hurts him, you won’t.” Jon countered, just as calmly. Just as determined. “But anyway – I’m not here to fight you, Miss Talia. Not today. I actually need to get home soon to finish my homework so I can go hang out with Damian. That way, I didn’t actually lie to anyone to come here, you know? I just…wanted to tell you, is all.”

“Well, your words have been noted.” Talia said simply. “I will let you leave now, but I will not be so kind next time we meet, Mr. Kent. Because the next time we cross paths, I will probably kill you, regardless of any pleas by you, your parents or my son. Are we clear?”

“Sure.” Jon shrugged again, then smiled brightly, like what she just said was funny. “If you say so.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just gave her a quick wave, then turned and flew from the compound.

Talia…didn’t quite know what to do with that.

~~

He heard the car long before he saw them coming down the tunnel. If he was honest, he didn’t much care about the Batmobile – he liked the planes Damian’s family flew much better.

When the car appeared, he didn’t look towards them, just stayed where he was with Titus, looking through the memorial cases, at the uniforms of those who had died, and the old styles of costumes none of them used anymore.

Batman and Nightwing didn’t see him when they exited their vehicle. Their chatting voices only died off when they reached the platform, and saw him moving around Damian’s case.

“Jon?” Dick asked curiously. “Everything okay? Where’s Damian?”

Jon shrugged. “Upstairs, I guess. I don’t know.”

Dick glanced at Bruce, who was already frowning. “What do you mean you don’t…”

“I didn’t come here to see him.” Jon cut off. “I’m here to see you.”

“Us?” Dick asked, utterly confused. Then repeated: “Jon, is everything okay?”

“Well, when I say you, I mean Mr. Wayne, but I guess you can count too, Dick.” Jon clarified, shoving his hands nonchalantly into his sweatshirt pockets. “And yeah, everything’s fine. I just have a question.”

“O…kay?”

“How come you don’t protect Damian better?” His gaze had shifted to Bruce, then, looking far too much like Clark for either of their liking. Serious and angry and doing everything in his power to keep it under lock.

Dick heard Bruce’s grunt before he spoke, and knew already this wasn’t going to go well. “I beg your pardon?”

“He’s always getting hurt because of you, and always recovering alone because you don’t stay with him.” Jon snapped. “And then he goes out and it happens again, but he acts like it’s all fine and it’s all normal. And in case you’ve forgotten, Batman – it’s not.”

“What happens to and with my family is none of your business, Mr. Kent.” Bruce hissed back. Dick immediately elbowed him in the side, giving him a glare of his own. “So perhaps you should run back to your farm before I call your parents.”

“Damian is my friend, so yeah, what happens to him is my business.” Jon took a step towards Bruce, determined not to be ignored. “And you know what I think? I think he does all this, I think he throws himself into these awful and terrible situations just so you’ll notice him. So he can protect you, and impress you and then. Then maybe you’ll love him.”

Tension filled the air immediately. They all heard the leather of Bruce’s glove tightening as he balled his hand into a fist.

“Batman, why don’t you love him?” Jon whispered sadly. Then he looked at Dick, face desperate and angry. “Why don’t either of you love him?”

“We do.” Dick tried. Bruce immediately spun away, stomping over to his computer. “But Damian…it’s complicated.”

“It’s not.” Jon shook his head. “My parents love me. And when I’m in trouble, they come after me. When I’m hurt, they stay with me, and take care of me.”

“Damian shows he cares through violence.” Dick offered, but to Jon it sounded like the start of an excuse. “He shows he loves someone by jumping in front of them. By…by dying for them – and trust me, Jon, I know what that’s like.”

“So why don’t you do the same for him?!” Jon countered harshly. ”Because I do. I have. I’ve jumped in front of him right back. I’ve yelled at him for the stunts he’s pulled to protect me.” And he paused, seemed to think over his words. Dick could tell he didn’t want to say them, that they were maybe too cruel, but they spilled out of his lips. “And I refuse to leave him like you did, Nightwing.”

Dick didn’t respond. He didn’t get angry. Because Jon was right, and Dick hated himself every day for it.

“That’s all he wants.” Jon sounded sad now. “He just wants you to stay with him. He just wants anyone to stay with him. And…maybe care for him too.”

“We do.” Dick murmured mournfully. “We do, Jon. It’s just…” And it seems all he could say, and he hated that too. “Complicated.”

“For you, maybe. You’re his brother, but you raised him, so he feels like your son, but you want him to build that same kind of relationship with Mr. Wayne and not get in the way. Blah, blah, blah. I know that. Damian knows that. He’s emotionally stunted, not stupid.” Jon waved off. “I still think you could try harder, Dick, but – I get it. Complicated, sure.” He shifted his wave towards Bruce. “But it’s not complicated for him. He’s his father. Damian is his son. It shouldn’t be hard for him to show that he loves him. At all.”

And Dick tried, honest he did. Had his mouth open to retort and defend and everything, just…nothing came out. Jon was…kind of right.

“Damian tells me you do, that you do love him. But I don’t believe him. And frankly, I don’t think he believes himself. He’s just trying to convince himself.” Jon sighed like he was the disappointed adult in the room. “Just say ‘I love you’ Mr. Wayne. Or ‘I’m proud of you’ or something. Don’t just leave him hanging. That’s how he gets in these situations. That’s how he gets hurt-”

“Jonathan.” Bruce cut off coldly. Jon stood a little straighter. “Do you and Damian have a case you’re currently working on?”

“I-.” Jon started. “…No. We don’t. I told you, I came here to talk to y-”

“Then I’m going to ask you to go home.” Bruce said, not turning around. “And I’d appreciate it if you only came here when you’re with your father or with Damian. Not alone. This isn’t a playground.”

Jon glanced at Dick, who shrugged apologetically.

“…If you don’t want him, you could just say so.” Jon whispered, almost in a pout. But Bruce and Dick heard him loud and clear. “I’m sure my parents…my mom would adopt him. And I wouldn’t mind having another brother.”

“Jon.” It was Dick this time. “Don’t…Just don’t, okay?”

“…I just want him happy.” Jon returned sadly. “I just want him to know how loved he is, okay? Because I can only tell him how much I like him so many times without annoying him, and I know it’s not just me.”

“I know.” Dick smiled. “I know you mean well, Jon, just-”

“Goodbye, Jonathan.” Bruce called, ending the discussion. Dick nodded, putting a hand on Jon’s shoulder and pushing him gently towards the exit.

Jon frowned as Dick released him and looked back at Bruce and Dick for just a moment. Then squared his shoulders and began walking away.

If Batman wasn’t going to do what he asked, then Jon would just make sure it happened all himself. Even if that meant making Damian Wayne, Damian Kent.

(Or Damian Prince, or Damian Grayson, or, god forbid, Damian Queen or Damian Luthor.)

“Goodbye, Batman.”

~~

He heard his dad coming up the stairs, and sighed. Didn’t move, though. Just stayed lying on his bed, feet on his pillow, comic book held up above his face.

Clark knocked before opening the door anyway. He was smiling, in jeans and a tshirt. “Hey, Jonno. Want to go flying?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, you busy?”

Jon flipped a page of his book. “No.”

“Oh.” Clark repeated. “Then why don’t you want to go? You love flying.”

Jon didn’t look at him. “Because I’m mad at you.”

He didn’t have to look at his father to know the grin had dropped from his face. “How come?”

“Because you’re punishing Damian for something he didn’t do.” Jon returned.

“Yet.” Clark answered immediately, knowing exactly what Jon was talking about. They’ve fought about it before. Multiple times. “Something he hasn’t done yet. And Jon, I understand he’s your friend, but I’m just trying to take precautions-”

“Would you do the same for him if Tim Drake said I was going to kill him one day?” Jon snapped. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Because I know you.” Clark sighed. “You’re my son, I know you’d never-”

“Yeah, well I know Damian would never, too!” Jon found himself yelling as he sat up, and threw his book across the room. “You’re only saying this because you know how he grew up. You know what his mom made him do and you’re blaming him. You know how Bruce is and are assuming Damian will be the exact same and maybe worse.”

Clark watched the book flutter to the ground and sighed. “Jon…”

“Save it.” Jon snapped. “You’re not going to change my mind, and I’m not going to change yours. I already figured that out. But I’m going to protect Damian from people who mistreat him, and that includes you, Dad. Okay?”

“I don’t-”

“Just be nice to him, Dad. You don’t know what he’s had to go through. What he still has to go through. And if being nice to him is so hard for you, based on some stupid future theory, then at least try to do it for me.” Jon sighed, like he was the exasperated parent. “Oh man. Having to tell Superman to be nice. What a life I lead.”

And that wasn’t entirely true. Clark knew exactly what Damian had been through, and the instincts forced upon him that he still struggled to control. Bruce mentioned it every time the two talked about their sons – which was more than the boys knew, of course.

Still.

“I’m…sorry I’ve been so rude to your friend. You’re…” And it was hard to say, even for him. Even with the circumstances he was about to mention. “You’re right. I’ve been a jerk to him on…potentially false pretenses. He’s done nothing but try to protect you, especially against this future messenger in Tim Drake, and I’ve done nothing but been suspicious of him.”

“Too busy judging him on something he might do – something we don’t even know the actual details of – to be grateful for what he’s already done for you.” Jon scolded.

“I’m sorry I upset you too, son.” Though I’m not sorry for trying to protect you, Clark didn’t say. “Anything I can do to make it up to you? And Damian?”

“Not right now. I don’t want you anywhere near him, Dad, if I’m honest. If he’s going to protect me from his crazy family, it’s only fair I protect him from mine, too.” Jon hummed. He didn’t mention that he let Lois near Damian still. But that’s probably because his mother was on his side about this, and she’s told Clark so on multiple occasions. “Try again in a few months, maybe I’ll be less mad at you.”

“Okay.” Clark sighed. But then, ever hopeful, “Still no flying today, though?”

“Not today, Dad. Sorry.”

“Okay.” Clark repeated. After a moment: “…Are you headed to Damian’s soon?”

“After I finish this issue.” Jon explained, standing up and sulking over to the book he’d thrown. “Damian lent it to me, actually. Did you know he reads comics? For the art he says, not the simplistic stories. He wants to have a discussion on it, like we’re in school.” Jon snorted a laugh. “He told me his favorite thing to do these days is discuss Mom’s investigative pieces with her, and the current state of journalism. That’s actually the only reason he came over last time – to hang out with Mom, not me! Can you believe it?”

“No.” Clark felt a faint smile on his face. “I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because you won’t let yourself.” Jon laid back down on his bed. “Because you won’t give Damian a chance.”

Jon reopened the comic, and Clark got the feeling he’d been dismissed.

~~

“What are you smiling about?”

Jon blinked at the screen, and the menu of the video game the two were playing. The Fortress of Attitude – as Damian refused to call it – was warm, and cozy. They didn’t have a case tonight, or a mission. Just. The Manor was too empty, and the Metropolis apartment was too full. They just wanted a night away from their family, and this was the perfect place.

They’d each planned to go to the fortress alone. But here, they’d shown up at the same time. Funny how that worked.

“Because I just beat you on this level? Again?” Jon smirked. Damian rolled his eyes, shook his head. “What, I can’t smile for no reason?”

“No. Only psychopaths do that.” Damian hummed, drinking his water.

“Well, I’m not a psychopath.” Jon promised. “And I’m smiling for no reason.”

“Nerd.” Damian snorted. He put his water bottle down, picking up his controller to scroll through the menus and start a new round.

Jon laughed and shoved his shoulder. Damian smirked back, but didn’t look at him, just reached blindly for a piece of pizza. But that was okay. He was calm and relaxed, a complete 180-turnaround from when they were in public. In uniform. With their dads.

“…Damian?” He found himself whispering.

“Mhu?” Damian said through chewing.

Jon’s smile widened. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Damian did look now. Confused for a moment, panicked for even less than that. Then smiled himself. Swallowed his bite and stared Jon dead in the eye.

“I’m…glad you’re my friend too, Jonathan.” Damian admitted, sounding almost like he was surprising himself with the statement.

And for a second, they just smiled at each other. Then Damian pressed a button, and the two went back to their video game.

[zombiesbecrazy]

Hit, Strike, Throw

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

Written for DickBabs Week - Day 7 prompt - sparring

ao3

“Okay, show me what you’ve got.”

“You have to stand up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

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

“Clichés are classics for a reason, Babs.”

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

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

“You were going easy on me.”

“Only a little.”

“An attacker won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a little exciting.

“Dick…”

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

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

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

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

“I can give you that.”

“I’m not going to ask you to wait.”

“You could.  I’d be good with it.”

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

“I think I might wait awhile anyway.”

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

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

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

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

“Such a drama queen.”

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

[happyk44]

“Bruce, he broke himself for you. He changed himself for you! When are you going to suck it up and tell him that you fucking give a shit about him outside of Robin?” Jason pointed an angry finger at him. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of Damian trying to seek your approval by hurting himself because it’s the only thing he knows how to do. You always said you want better for us, better for him, and yet-”

Jason cut himself off, shaking. Finally he found his voice again, his nerve. “And yet you do nothing to fix him. You just rode in on Dick’s coattails and pretended like he was your masterpiece. He’s not. He’s Dick’s. And if you want him to stop being reckless, then maybe remember this. The League told him he had to be the best and forced him to take risks, do things that could kill him, and praised him for doing those things.

“He’s not doing it because he’s stupid. He doesn’t do it around Dick because he listens to Dick more, but because Dick’s made it clear that’s not how to gain his approval. He’s doing it because that what he knows to get someone to tell him he did a good job and that’s all he fucking wants from you. So get over yourself and fucking tell him that, instead of shouting at him about the mistakes he made and then telling him he did good on the times he does stupid shit and doesn’t break his arm.”

As he stalked away he wasn’t expecting Bruce to whirl around and catch him by the arm. This wasn’t their first fight, especially not about Damian, and whenever Jason walked off, Bruce let him.

“You don’t think I’ve tried,” he growled, grip tightening on Jason’s arm. “You don’t think I didn’t figure that out? He doesn’t listen-”

Jason swung around, wrenched his arm out of Bruce’s grip and shoved him back. “Fuck off, Bruce. He listens. He listens to everyone. Me, Dick, Cass, fucking replacement. He listens. He does what you tell him to do. He pays attention. And he makes stupid mistakes because he thinks he’s right, because that’s what the League drilled into his head.”

Gesturing widlly, his hands balled up into fists so tight his fingers were numbing over, he snapped, “You treat him like they did. You feed him. You put clothes on his back, a roof over his head. And then shove him out into a bad bad world, tell him to run free and still somehow keep him contained because you don’t trust him-”

“He doesn’t trust me!” Bruce shouted back. “If he did, he wouldn’t question-”

“SHUT UP!” Jason yelled, about ten seconds from knocking Bruce a new one. “You don’t give him a reason to trust you! He doesn’t understand you! You tell him that the League was bad, the way they used him was bad and then treat him the exact same way! HE’D DIE FOR YOU AND YOU DON’T CARE.”

Bruce froze, his whole body stilling as Jason’s words echoed through the Cave.

Jason drew back, panting. He rubbed his jaw. “Bruce, you fucking need to get it through your head. Damian wants you to love him. He wants you to treat him like you treat Dick and Tim and Cass.” Like you used to treat me. “But you don’t and that makes him think he’s doing something wrong so he goes back to what he knows. Do a reckless thing, survive and it doesn’t matter what bones you broke, how many times you were stabbed, how close you are to actually dying, someone at the end of it is going to tell you how proud they are of you.

“And that’s what you do. You send mixed messages. You shout at him that he fucked up, that he shouldn’t have broken his arm, his leg, his fucking collarbone, like you suddenly remembered he’s a kid, and then turn around and tell him how glad you are that he got the bad guy anyway. He thinks this is what you want from him, Bruce. And if you actually fucking knew that, you wouldn’t be standing here telling me that I’m wrong. And Damian wouldn’t be in bed trying to figure out the best way to continue training without breaking his arm even further.”

Jason grabbed his jacket off the control panel and slung it over his shoulder. “Make up your mind. Be a dad to him or let him go do his own shit without you. Because I’m tired of watching him break himself for someone who hasn’t even told him that he loves him yet.”

--

Damian tried to angle his arm in the sling just enough so that he could flick to the next page of his book. A knock at his door caught his attention before he could. He squeezed his eyes shut, wished his arm wasn’t broken so he could pinch the bridge of his nose, and snapped, “Pennyworth, for the last time, I’m fine. I don’t need anymore-” The door eased open and he stopped. He closed his book around his thumb and sat up. “Father.”

Father stood in his doorway, eyes unreadable, just like Mother’s. It was always baffling how they could be so similiar and yet so different.

“Can I come in?”

Damian shrugged. “You already opened the door,” he muttered, looking down to the colouful cover of his book. He wasn’t really in the mood to be shouted at.

Father settled down on the edge of the bed, back to Damian, and Damian relaxed. Good. Whenever Father did this, it meant he was going to say something emotional, not something cruel.

He rarely, if ever, looked Damian in the eye when he was going to say something along the lines of “I’m proud of you”. That was one of the differences with Mother.

“Damian, I don’t want you to do that again,” he said quietly. And Damian frowned.

“What?”

“Next time, I don’t want you risking yourself like that again.”

Damian scowled. “He was going to get away! Everyone else was occupied. Was I just supposed to let him run free and go reform his gang again?”

Father shifted, just enough so Damian could see the side of his face, framed annoyingly well in the low light. “Damian, you could’ve called for support or-”

“I don’t need support. I can fight one pathetic excuse for a mobster on my own and-”

“You got shot!”

“-I’ve done it before.” Damian narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t hear you complain the last time I did it. And if you’re going to berate me about this again, wait until Pennyworth pumps me full of drugs. I don’t need to be screamed at when my body is already doing that.” He reopened his book and steadied his eyes on the first line.

He read nothing. The words wouldn’t process. 

Father frowned, his arms tensing as his fingers gripped at Damain’s sheet. “If you know you’re going to get hurt, then why-”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” Damian snapped, his book falling shut again. “If doesn’t matter so long as the plan succeeds, so long as I succeed. Which I did. He’s in custody.”

“And you’re in bed with a broken arm, recovering from two bullet wounds.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I could say the same for you on a number of occassions, Father. Do not be a hypocrite.”

“You’re a child. It’s different.”

His fingers tightened on the edge of his book. “I believe I made my stance clear so if you’re going to just complain about me, go do it with Drake.”

Father didn’t leave, just stared at him with those stupid unreadable eyes and a thin lipped grimace. Finally, he shifted around enough that his thigh was half pulled up onto the bed and he could face Damian fully. “You look like your mother.”

Damian stilled. Then scoffed. “Impossible. She created me to be you.”

The dig was clear.

This is your fault.

He felt childishly pleased with the quick scance of pain that blurred through Father’s eyes and then annoyed when it vanished too quickly.

“Maybe,” Father said at last. He pushed back Damian’s hair. “But you still look like her.”

“What exactly is your point?” He cocked his head. “Is this your way of telling me you want me to be a girl?”

Now Father looked offended. “Damian-”

“Because I’m quite pleased with being a boy and you said you had no issues with it when Mother dropped me off here the first time.” He looked back at his book, reopening it, determined to ignore Father and read. “She cares too much for me to be left alone with an imbecile not caught up on gender.”

Father licked his lips, frowning low. “She’s told you that?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Of course. She tells me she cares for me all the time. Every letter, every accidental meeting, she wants me to remember that. I think she fears I’m forgetting my roots.” Absentmindedly he rubbed his sling-casted arm against his abdomen. How could he though?

Father rubbed his thigh. “Damian-”

Damian squeezed his eyes shut. “Father, I’m not in the mood to discuss my mother. Please come back when I’m drugged and won’t remember it.”

Sighing deeply, Father rose to his feet, unsteadily bouncing on the heels. He was acting like Grayson.

Or perhaps, it was that Grayson acted like him.

Damian had never seen his father so out of sorts before. Tired? Sure. Exasperated? Of course. Angry? Definitely. Concerned? It was his default face when it came to any of them.

Uncomfortably awkwardly nervous?

No.

“Damian,” he started again, turning to face Damian. He cleared his throat.

“Just spit it out already!” Damian huffed. “You’re beginning to annoy me and broken arm or not, I will shove you out of this room, if I must.”

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m just. I’m trying to let you know that I... that I care about you, Damian.”

“I know that already! You say it every time I hurt myself.” He coughed low and Father’s deep timbre fell out of his mouth. “Damian, I just don’t want you to get hurt again. Despite what you may think, I care about you and caring means I can’t take it when you’re injured. Even so, I’m happy that you got the insert-madman-of-choice but please do not do this again.” He gestured loosely with his good arm. “It’s a pattern at this point. And you already said it earlier.” He pulled his book back into his view and looked back at it. “You don’t need to say it again.”

Father stared at him. “Oh.” His voice felt faint. “Well alright then.” He cleared his throat. “Um-” He looked around the room, like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

Leave, Damian thought. Just go.

He didn’t.

He settled down on the edge of the bed again all the way at the edge to the point where Damian couldn’t even graze him with his foot.

“My parents told me that they cared for me all the time,” he said. Damian frowned. What? “And I said it back all the time. And I said it on my own without prompting. And then they died and I was scared.”

“Okay?” Damian tried to remember what Grayson and Colin and Brown said about empathy. “I’m... sorry?”

Father shook his head, his back tensing. “I was scared of telling people I loved them because it felt like a promise to stay. And they didn’t. So I stopped.”

Damian closed hsi eyes, feeling exhausted. “I don’t really understand-”

“I love you, Damian.” Father stood to face. “You do know that?”

It was on the tip of Damian’s tongue. Of course, he knew. How could Father be so ridiculous to think that Damian wasn’t aware he cared.

But the lie wouldn’t fall.

He swallowed it and shook his head. “No. I was not aware.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve never said it. And you’re not like... like Drake or Todd. You’ve never made it clear.”

“I’m sorry,” Father said. He walked over to Damian side and pulled himself onto the bed, his thigh pressed warmly against Damian’s side. “I should’ve done better with you.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” 

Damian shook his head. “Love is useless. Mother loves you but that means nothing. She won’t stay with you. She won’t stay with me. Grayson loves me but he still left me when you came back.”

“And my mother told me she loved me and she died.” Father patted Damian’s knee. “Just because someone leaves, doesn’t mean they care about you any less.”

“I know that,” Damian snapped. “It’s just pointless to echo it if you’re going to.”

Father nodded slowly. Damian didn’t like the look in his eyes. This was going to turn into a thing, into a talk.

Damian hated Father’s talks.

Finally Father leaned back and eyed him. “Why did you think I didn’t love you?”

He looked at Father. No lies, he thought. “You told me. After you came back. Ivy’s poison. It made people reveal truths uncontrollably. You got hit with it and like all the others, when it faded you forgot what you said to me. And I said you didn’t say anything to me, which was a lie.” Damian cast his eyes down. “You said you couldn’t love a monster. I accepted that. I moved on.”

“Damian-”

“You said you only took me in because I was blood. I already knew this. You said you took me back because you thought I’d kill Grayson. Because you wanted to monitor me. Because you didn’t trust me. I accepted it.” He rubbed his thumb over the expanse of the book’s cover. “Why would I assume anything had changed?”

“I didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter. It was your truth. Even if it was old.” He bit his lip. “You knew I was alive and let me stay with the League after Mother took me back. You didn’t really care until Grayson fixed me and even then it wasn’t enough for you.” He shrugged. “I assumed nothing would be.

“But then you brought me back and I thought maybe things had changed. And then I realized it was a window of opportunity, not anything real. If the same thing had happened with anyone else, if it’d happened with Todd, you would have done it as well. There wouldn’t have been hesitation.”

“I didn’t hesitate,” Father cut in. “I wanted you back.”

“So did Grandfather.” Damian licked his lips. “I know what I am, Father. You don’t need to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending anything, Damian.” He leaned over and kissed the top of Damian’s head. “Don’t ever think I am. I love you so much.” He brushed back Damian’s hair. “When Jason died, I was devastated. When you died, I was destroyed. And then I got him back and I got you back and everything was different but it felt better.” He stroked the side of Damian’s face softly. “And then I heard the gunshots last night and I couldn’t find you among the crowd and I panicked. Because I can’t lose you again.”

Damian frowned. “What did you do?”

“A lot of stupid things,” Father admitted quietly and the image of a dozen broken bodies paving the way to Damian flooded back to Damain’s mind. Cain had been with him when they’d grabbed Damian after he’d finished with the mobster.

He’d assumed...

He’d assumed they were her fault. It was characteristic of her, when she was concerned about the others, to hurt a little more than need be, to fall back into old patterns.

He’d never considered that it might’ve been Father.

“I thought that was Cain.”

“Yes, I realize that. And some were. Most of them...” Father closed his eyes. “I’m not losing my son a second time. It was miserable when I lost him the first time.”

Damian shivered.

It was like when Grayson laughed and slung his arm around Damian’s shoulders and whispered in his ear, “This is why I love you, Damian” after some scathing remark Damian had uttered about the clown at the fair.

And Damian didn’t understand it.

He still didn’t understand it.

But he laid his book down on his lap and grabbed Father’s hand with his good one. “I’ll try to do better. Next time.”

Father nodded. “Thank you.” He slid off the bed to his feet and leaned over, kissing the top of Damian’s head, hands cupped warm around Damian’s cheeks. It was a weird gesture but Damian had seen it before. Other parents. Other children.

Other families.

He relaxed into and almost missed the comfort of being held as Father stepped away.

“I was wrong, by the way,” Father said, stilling at the doorway. “Back then. I made a mistake not seeing you as you as are.” He leaned agains the door and glance back at Damian. “I'm sorry.”

Damian shook his head. “It’s fine. I was a monster, I know that.”

“You were a child. A better man would’ve recognized that.” Father ran his finger over the wood. “And a better man did. And I’m grateful for that. I can’t imagine not having you in my life, Damian. And I can’t think of what would’ve happen to you if you’d stayed with the League. When I do, I..." He swallowed thickly. “I regret letting them keep you in the first place. The things I could’ve prevented if I told Talia, she couldn’t take you back.”

Damian thought about the scar that stretched from his abdomen to the top of his shoulder. The darkness of it against the rest of his skin. The way Grayson reacted so poorly to it.

The way Father looked at it the first time Damian changed in the Cave.

How he twitched when Damian told him how he got it in the years after the first time they’d met.

Devastation, Damian realized.

That was what it was in his eyes that night.

Damian’s finger brushed over the spot where it started and shook his head. “I’m here now. That’s what matters.”

Father smiled. “Good point.”

AO3 || Commission Info || Tip the writer!

[raybyanothername]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain Additional Tags: Batfamily (DCU), Sibling Bonding Summary:

Short drabble of the Batkids attempting to clean the manor for Alfred.

Cleaning Teams

"Alright you crazy sons of b-"

Dick cleared his throat. Jason huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Batman. Sons of batman, is that better?" Jason gestured out, arms wide. Dick nodded, smiling. "Good." Jason turned back to the troops, hands on his hips. "Alright, you crazy sons of batman! I want this manor Tip-Top when Alfred gets back from London tomorrow!"

Jason and Dick stood on the top of the grand staircase, glorious leaders of the batkids assembled below in the foyer.

The aforementioned troops didn't even blink. Tim yawned and leaned heavily on the mop in his hands. His head was inches - if not centimeters! - from face-planting into the damp rope head.

"Pennyworth did not request our assistance in preparing the house for his arrival," Damian glowered, arms crossed over  his chest.

Beside him, Stephanie snorted, "Cleaning the house before he gets back is meant to be a kind gesture, Dami." She ruffled his hair, "A show of our appreciation."

Damian's teeth snapped at Stephanie's fingers. Her hand quickly retreated. And then immediately patted his head when Damian turned his attention back towards Jason.

"That one is on *your* cleaning squad," Jason pointed a finger at Damian (from the safety of the staircase) and an annoyed glare at Dick.

"This is gonna be fun, Dami, I promise!" Dick grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Tim glared at him, groaning at the mere sight of energy.

"You know I hate saying this…but I agree with Damian." Tim stood up straight, nose scrunched up, "Alfred's particular about how things should be cleaned. He may not want us touching stuff."

Damian looked up at Tim, eyes narrowed, and then turned to face Jason and Dick on the stairs. "I withdraw my complaint," Damian sniffed, chin rising.

Tim rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Unlike the demon brat I was actually on patrol last night too, so if you need me, I'll be in bed." He was half way up the stairs when Jason grabbed his arm.

"You can be on my cleaning team," Jason offered with a smirk, "We'll finish faster than Dick and Dami for sure."

Dick watched Tim's eyes narrow. They all knew the resident middle child could see through Jason's ploy, but beating Damian was very tempting…

"You will not!" Damian scoffed, feet stomping as he took each step up the stairs towards Tim, "Grayson and I are the superior team!"

Tim's eyes narrowed and Jason's hand dropped from his arm.

In the foyer still, Duke leaned towards Stephanie and Cass, who were already ignoring the brothers, "Should we…should we do something?"

"Nope," Stephanie popped the 'p' and grinned at Duke. Cass just smiled. She cleared her throat. Jason looked up, but Dick was busy pulling Tim and Damian off one another. "Since there's three of us, we'll take the cave, kay?"

"Sounds good," Jason gave her a thumbs up and the Batgirls quickly dragged Duke through the clock before he could remind everyone that they'd all inventoried the supplies before Alfred left.

-.-.-

"I can't believe you forced them to work together," Jason grumbled as he stood atop a ladder carefully shinning the crystals on a chandelier.

Dick huffed from below, face covered in grime from the fireplace, "They have to learn how to-"

"Get away with murder?" Jason interrupted, he snapped his rag in Dicks direction, "That did not work super well for the people in the tv show."

"Jay…" Dick sighed, "It's our job as their big brothers to help them. Our duty!" Jason snorted. "As long as they don't break anything, we'll be fine."

As if to mock him, a crash echoed down from the second floor. Jason turned on the ladder to face Dick, lips quirked, "Pretty sure there's a better chance of Harley getting back with the Joker."

"I'm telling Ivy you said that!" Dick snapped back as he headed out of the ballroom to search for his younger brothers.

Jason slid down the ladder and headed towards the cave. He'd given them enough time to snoop through the lockers, and he'd bet money Steph had found whatever hoard of goodies Tim kept down there.

"If Alfred kills me for messing up the house, I'm gonna die with chocolate in my teeth!"

Oh well, he could always blame it all on Dick.

Another crash sounded from upstairs, this time followed by some yelling, some growling, and what was definitely a yelp from Dick.

Jason ducked through the clock, "If you haven't found the junk food yet, I'm revoking your Bad Robin Card Stephanie!"

"Screw you, Jason, I found it an hour ago!" Steph yelled back, half cackling, and Jason swore under his breath. He rushed down the stairs to be greeted by Steph shoving his favorite Hostess treat into her mouth in an obscene manner.

Jason narrowed his eyes, "You're a cruel woman." Stephanie grinned, chocolate visible on her teeth and her cheeks stuffed.

"Cass saved you some," Duke told him, gesturing towards a Hostess box sitting beside their resident ballerina. Her fingers were drumming a tune on the side of the box. Duke chuckled nervously, "Not sure what the price for them is though."

-.-.-

When Dick finally wrangled Tim and Damian into their separate rooms - he didn't *exactly* ground them… - he was suddenly struck by how very quiet the house was.

"That cannot be good…" Dick sighed and shook his arms out before going in search of his other siblings. He hadn't stretched before he pulled Damian off of Tim and he was not about to make the same mistake twice.

"Hey Dickie-bird!" Jason waved, a ho-ho in his hand, from atop the dinosaur in the cave. Dick froze, jaw dropping.

From the base of the dinosaur Steph yelled, "Do a flip!"

"No!" Dick gestured wildly, but either Jason couldn't hear him over Stephanie and Duke's cheering or - much more likely - Jason ignored him. Either way, Dick watched with wide eyes as Jason jumped from the dinosaur's head.

Jason made two full rotations, which wasn't bad considering his experience, and even landed on his feet. A loud 'crack' ruined his perfect score.

"Alfred is gonna kill me…" Dick pulled a hand down his face as he watched Cass hand Jason a Hostess box.

-.-.-

If you liked this fic and are feeling generous: https://ko-fi.com/raybyanothername

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Masks - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Summary: The masks were infectious. He was too late for everyone else, but he would not let them infect Damian too.  A/N: I wrote this on a plane and in the middle of the night in airports. Poorly edited on a lunch break. I need so much sleep it’s silly. I meant for this to be much more metaphorical but, oops. Hahahaha.

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There was a rap of knuckles on the window, and Dick found himself already smiling as he moved to let his guest in.

"You're early." Dick hummed, shoving the pane upwards, watching Robin scramble through.

"I'm prompt. There's a difference." Damian clarified. "But I was finishing up a case with Superboy nearby. Seemed a waste to go all the way home and come back later."

"That's true." Dick admitted, pushing the window closed, spinning towards the room and gesturing towards the sofa. "You hungry? I don't have much but I'll make you something. Go make yourself comfortable."

He turned away before Damian responded, but assumed he gave his typical silent nod. He hummed as he went into the kitchen, searching the cabinets for easy treats. After a moment, he heard Damian sit down on the couch.

He found trail mix, and felt a welling of pride at himself in his own chest. Trail mix was the ultimate Damian food, in his opinion. Fruits, nuts, all that healthy stuff - with just a pinch of chocolate. Small bites he can graze, or do the silly kid tricks with, while he worked just as tiredly as his dad to save a city he was slowly starting to refer to as home - but still filling enough that Dick didn't have to worry.

But when he twisted back towards the room, he couldn't help but frown. Dick had told him to get comfortable - to himself that meant take your shoes off. In Damian's case, maybe lose the cape and mask too, at least.

But the child was in full uniform still, sitting rigidly on the sofa, fists tight and battle ready as they sat against his legs.

And it felt...wrong.

"Damian?" He asked softly. Damian's face scrunched in confusion as he looked up at him. "You okay?"

"...Yes?" Damian answered, though was clearly unsure why he had to. "Are you?"

But Dick wasn't sure what to say. Because he didn't know why this sight worried him so.

Maybe because he's been having such mental crises lately about his family in this life, about being a vigilante in general himself. Maybe it's because Damian was so young, and had already been through so much, and they all kept failing him more as he got older. Maybe it was because Dick knew Damian felt safest with him, but even now that didn't let the boy feel safe enough.

But no. That wasn't it, he realized.

It was because of Bruce.

Because Batman had consumed Bruce. Bruce barely existed anymore, and as much as Dick loved him, he'd known that since he was a child. Since before he made Robin. The cowl was the real man, and Bruce was the mask. Bruce was the ghost, had died when he was eight.

And these masks had taken over the others too. Jason, Tim, Barbara. They weren't them without them. Dick never noticed until it was too late, but soon they'd probably be just as bad as Bruce. Maybe even worse. Maybe they wouldn't exist outside the masks at all.

And the same was happening to their youngest too.

He felt safer in the mask. Hated himself so much he'd rather be a faceless hero than look at himself. And the mask not only hid his face, but any tells to his emotions too. His needs, his traumas, his vulnerabilities, his weaknesses. He was a good kid with all of those things of course - a great kid, Dick knew. But he could hide that behind that mask. Be mysterious, an urban legend, behind that uniform. Damian could disappear, fade from existence, just like he always wanted.

Just like Bruce. Just like Tim, and everyone else.

Dick had survived this, but barely. It was part of his funk now. But with his friends, with Kory and Roy and Donna - and even family like Cassandra and Damian himself - he'd survived the masks. He was still more Dick than Nightwing. Than a former spy, Batman and Robin.

He was still Dick.

And he'd already lost Damian. More than once, even. He wouldn't lose him again, not even to Robin.

"...Grayson?" Damian pushed, though remained on the couch. Dick blinked, but still didn't say anything. Instead moved forward, placing the bowl on the coffee table as he knelt in front of his brother, staring worriedly up at him. "...What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Dick smiled awkwardly, lifting his hands. "...May I?"

Damian glanced between his hands and gave an indifferent shrug. Dick took that as a yes enough, reached up and carefully peeled the green mask away from Damian's face. Exposed the bleary sea green eyes it hid, along with the dark shadows underneath them.

"Satisfied?" Damian droned sarcastically, keeping Dick's gaze nonetheless. "It's actually me under here."

Dick didn't smile at the barb, though. Focused on the lowered eyelids, Damian's rapid blinks to clear his misty eyes.

"...Damian, when was the last time you slept?" Dick asked instead. "Or even took a night off from all this? Went and saw a movie or something?"

Damian raised an eyebrow. "What does that matter?"

"Damian, please."

There was a moment of silence as Damian held out, but eventually he huffed a sigh. Looked away.

"A few days ago." He glanced back. "What? This was a large case. If it makes you feel better, Jon hasn't slept either. It's not just me this time. And Father has been awake much longer, so..."

Dick made a mental note to call Lois in a few minutes.

"As for days off," Damian hummed. "Well. What do you think I'm doing here?"

And that was right. They'd made these plans months ago. The circus was in town, and he'd invited Damian to go to the show with him. The kid had agreed to, even with the stipulation that he'd stay the night in this tiny, old apartment.

"Damian..."

"Oh, save the lecture. I'm too tired to-" He cut himself off, realizing his mistake. Still, though, he was his father's son, and ignoring the obvious was his specialty. "...I don't want to hear it. If that was your plan for my coming here to spend time with you, then I'll just go home."

"No, no, I wasn't." And Dick found himself grabbing Damian's hands and clinging to them as if his life depended on it. And hey - maybe it did.

Regardless, no more masks. No drowning in the cape. No disappearing identities for urban legends and silly monikers.

Not for this little boy.

"I was just going to ask." He smiled, even as Damian stared down at their hands. "Would you be heartbroken if we skipped the circus?"

Damian's eyes flew up in alarm. "But...you wanted to go."

"Sure I did." Dick laughed. And his heart swelled a little at the thought - Damian couldn't care less about the circus. Was only here because Dick wanted to go and wanted to take Damian, and despite the preconceived notion, Damian cared tremendously about things like that. "And now I want to order a pizza and watch crappy movies with you all night."

And despite his want - near need - to put Dick's happiness above his own, he saw Damian slump in relief.

"...I don't need a rest." Damian whispered. "I can still go to the show with you. I'll just...drink some coffee."

"You're thirteen. You don't need coffee." Dick grinned, squeezing Damian's hands. "What you need is to be cuddled in a blanket, junk food, and a night to just be Damian."

And just like Dick feared, Damian looked up at him, ocean eyes nervous, and whispered, "And what if I like being Robin more?"

"Robin's lame as hell. I don't want to hang out with him." Dick countered. "I want to hang out with my super cool little brother Damian, who I don't see enough and am very sorry about that."

Damian looked away, embarrassed. "...I didn't bring anything to sleep in."

Because he was going to go on another patrol after the show, and just so happen to take all night to do so.

Good thing he and Bruce taught him to break promises at such an early age.

"You know I keep clothes for all you siblings in the hall closet. Your shelf is the third down. Sorry you share it with Tim. Grab yourself some sweats, I'll find the number for the pizza place."

Damian hesitated as Dick drew his hands back, then nodded and scurried away. Dick laughed, shook his head, and stood, pulling out his phone to call Lois.

(Lois, of course, already knew her heroic son's state, and was in the process of calling Bruce to inform him of Damian's. She had the exact same worry as Dick, and had decided to have a calm, no-costume family night herself, dragging Clark back from the Watchtower with a well-placed, borderline-threatening phone call.)

When he'd finished his call, Damian was reemerging from his room, in an oversized hoody (an old one of Dick's) and oversized sweatpants (a hand-me-down from Jason's, which were originally a hand-me-down from Dick.) He made a beeline for the sofa, and retook his perch. Less rigid this time, though. Let himself sit back and melt into the cushions.

And when Dick sat next to him, Damian immediately curled into his side, like it was the only place he wanted to be.

"I want peppers on the pizza. With pepperoni." Damian demanded as Dick flopped an arm around his back. "And I'll accept pineapple if you wanted it. And breadsticks."

Dick smiled, ruffling Damian’s hair as he stared down at his open, unmasked face, dialing the restaurant.

"Sure thing, kiddo."