#AND DICK'S GENTLE HAND IN DAMIAN'S HAIR!! THEN DAMIAN FULL OUT CIRCLING HIS ARMS AROUND DICK!!

[batbabydamian]

Jorge Jimenez C2E2 2024 Commission!

[iphoenixrising]

DickTimWeek2021 Day 2

** Day 2: Time Loop | Jealousy | Stray AU

Welp. Time to break some hearts.

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows. 

“Did you see that thug punch himself in the face?”

“That’s the right way to get out of an ass beating by the Batman.”

Tim, still in Red Robin, doesn’t even bother, just lets his knees buckle so he can slide down to the floor and laugh until tears are rolling down the dominio still plastered on his face.

He’s riding the concussion train with 

(J)

Josephine and she’s not as bad as some of them are. 

Dick at least tosses the gloves and gauntlets before hauling Timmy’s bruised ass up off the floor, throwing the arm around his shoulders.

“C’mon, you butt. Really Timmy, just laying here in your suit? Alfred would be appalled.”

“S’why I don’t go to the Manor much anymore.”

“Ooh, I’m telling. You’re going to be in so much trouble,” as he gets Tim down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Y-You can’t! You’re the oldest! Dami’s supposed to be the tattle-tale!”

“Nu-uh. As the oldest, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

And does he tell on Timmy? You bet your ass he does.

It’s nice when Alfred can look at someone else in the family with extreme disappointment.

Tim comes by the Manor the day Alfred video chats him, shuffles down to the Cave behind the butler and absolutely sticks his tongue out at Dick’s smarmy grin.

**

His apartment is a literal mess and Dick can’t be bothered to do much more than flop on the overstuffed couch with a groan. 

Still in his uni from the day shift, he’s too bruised and battered and tired to even think of suiting up for the night. He’s been running himself ragged for two months, the day and night shifts blending together along with the usual bullshit of daily human life, and he desperately needs a night of terrible television, junk food, and snuggles.

Like he’d been reading the room, Timmy walks out of his bathroom, towel around his shoulder and hair just this side of damp.

“Hey, you made it home in one piece.” Tim’s long fingers in his hair literally pulls a noise out of Dick he can’t ever remember making.

“Yeah, I drove down because you looked like death warmed over when we talked last weekend. Luckily for you I went grocery shopping, did a few loads of your laundry, and cleaned up a little so you don’t have to worry about housework.”

“I love you. Have I told you that recently? Like, so, so much–” is muffled by the couch cushions, but he thinks Tim can probably still make it all out.

“Mmhm, I know,” and the gentle scratching against his scalp doesn’t stop, and Dick goes a little boneless with it. “I even brought my Roku so we can binge watch terrible television while you eat something more substantial than cereal. Alfred is going to be so proud of you.”

A pat to his head and Timmy is off, slinging his towel on the rack, turning on the shower again to make sure it’s nice and hot for all those bruises and contusions.

He’s no-nonsense about picking up his previous mentor and best friend, literally stripping him down and manhandling him in the shower after a low whistle at the span of blue/black across Dick’s chest and ribs, the scrapes across his back and shoulders. 

The first aid kit tackle box makes an appearance because Tim plans for literally everything ever, and Dick finds himself sitting on his sink wearily while his injuries are meticulously treated.

He knows he eats something super tasty with meat and vegetables, his belly full, before Tim pulls him down on the couch and lets Dick lay against his chest, between his legs to sleepily float while watching God-awful B-movies.

It’s the most relaxing weekend he’s had in a while.

**

Dami sneers at Tim, arms crossed over his chest, the expression on his face begging Tim to try to deny it.

The third Robin however, is looking over at Dick with horror that the big secret is finally out in the open.

“Th-that isn’t– it’s not–” Tim fumbles desperately, “he’s been my big brother forever, that’s it!”

“Tt. Grayson may be painfully oblivious, Drake, but the rest of us are detectives. Even Todd knows of your feelings and he rarely even comes to the Manor!”

Tim’s soul literally leaves his body.

Dick blinks, completely taken back, mouth open without anything coming out.

Damian raises his eyes skyward and prays for patients dealing with these two. “What I am saying,” he tries, he really is trying here, “is that you two must cease and desist this pointless–” vague hand wave– “pining for one another. It is getting to the point of absurdity. I demand you two either discuss your need for one another or take this ridiculous mooning elsewhere. The rooftops of Gotham is no place for this,” another hand wave, “utter nonsense.”

Tim’s mouth goes dry, subtly backing away to be closer to the Ducati’s waiting for tonight’s ride. He’s pretty sure he has enough energy left in his shaky knees to hop on one and be the fuck out of the Cave before his face literally bursts into flames.

But, well. Dick was Batman.

His strategic retreat is stomped into the ground by acrobatic leaps and a very well done joint lock to keep him from immediately taking off.

Dami scoffs at them on his way up the winding staircase. He stops Pennyworth on the way and turns the butler to return back into the Manor proper, citing those two needed time to figure themselves out.

**

After several weeks under deep cover, Nightwing wearily hacks into Titan’s Tower and makes his way through the maze of hallways until he hits a hidden panel. 

Tim is sleeping on his desk, only one empty coffee mug at his workstation. Even dead in his boots, Nightwing can take a second just to look, just to sigh, just to enjoy how much every inch of this boy is his.

He journeys down the hall, flips the bed covers up, carries his sleeping partner in and tucks the blankets around him, a quickly there kiss to the top of messy, too-long hair. A shower in Tim’s perch literally makes everything in life a little less awful and exhausting, not enough for him to do much more than crawl in bed against Tim’s warm body and snuggle up close.

He gets breakfast in bed and blue-violet eyes looking at him with fondness rather than awe, gets coffee flavored kisses and a slow-paced back rub that continues down to his thighs and calves and feet. Later, he gets a date night in a nice restaurant and a sweet San Fran club scene for dessert. He gets to let loose and hold Tim’s body against him, to play them both until the gazes are intense and the low key UST between them makes other people on the dance floor give them space.

**

Witty banter is a primary weapon against megalomaniacal bad guys of any flavor. For some former Robins, it’s an art form.

Over the years, they’ve cultivated their dip and distraction to bounce off one another like a well-oiled vigilante machine. 

It should have been a standard take-down because it’s not one of their more dangerous, deadly villains. It’s not one of the Rogue Gallery baddies. It’s not one of the mobster families, not one of the super powered groups come to call. It’s not someone with hordes of thugs and deadly science waiting to take them down.

It’s a simple B&E, just Nightwing talking it up to draw gunfire while Red Robin is creeping up from behind to get the last laugh.

It’s one of a thousand times they’ve done this. 

It’s a guaranteed win.

It’s the last hour of patrol before they get to go back to Red’s penthouse and snuggle together, eat and show, probably have some fantastic sex before passing out.

The .45 shell, however, cuts through the suit, between armored plates. 

Going after the running baddies is automatic, taking them down, zip ties, and viola. They’re ready for GCPD to pick-up, all kinds of gift-wrapped.

When N finally realizes Red isn’t with him, isn’t answering comms, isn’t waiting for him on the roof, he goes back inside. He hits up B for a ride in the big car in case he missed –

– anything.

The pool of blood around Red Robin is more than he can afford to lose, and Nightwing has been in the vigilante life for over twenty years, has been official with Red Robin for a little over two, has personal experience on how his Baby Bird can take a mostly-fatal beating and still keep moving. He’s seen Tim come close with the Clench, with horrifying injuries, with any of the many bad guys they fight holding him hostage.

Nightwing has seen him perform literal miracles.

And tells him so the entire time he’s got Red Robin up in his arms, carrying him through Gotham’s skyline to the waiting car, falling in with Red on his lap when the familiar hatch slides back, the tourniquet already applied before he even shot a grapple. The struggling pulse is enough of a concern to get it together.

And even if they all gather to strip off the suit, and now it’s on to get vitals back to an acceptable range. Even if the Bats cry overhead, even if the equipment is top notch in the Cave, even if Dick is still talking the whole time, and Alfred is keeping a cool head and Bruce is gripping a hand and Damian is standing at the ready to hand implements and Cass is biting her thumbnail while she hovers and Steph is moving from empty space to empty space around the gurney –

The consistent beep of the flatline cuts through it all.

**

The Titans make it for the service. 

Each of them make a point to hug Dick for as long as possible, holding on tightly.

Bruce is silent and stoic, a little boy again when he has to watch someone else he loves being lowered into the cold, unforgiving ground. Another Robin taking a piece of his heart to the afterlife. 

Steph is red-eyed, a ghost moving around to individual circles, listening to stories she might not have known. 

Cass grips the coffin with bruised knuckles, her whole body wound tight as a string ready to snap. She doesn’t move the entire service, is already convinced leaving him to his own devices caused this whole thing. She doesn’t blame the thugs or Dick or Bruce. She blames the boy that never understood how much it all means.

Duke Thomas is back in Gotham, taking leave from the Outsiders to be here for the family that took him in after the Joker drove his parents insane. He hovers in the doorway to welcome mourners, direct them toward the book to sign-in, talks about Tim Drake with regular humans and other metas in disguise, accepts condolences with his throat tight and his eyes watery. He makes sure Dick has a bottle of water after the first hour, pats Damian’s shoulder, grips Bruce’s arm, weaves an arm around Cassandra’s back to give her a squeeze, obediently looks at the old pictures of Tim on Steph’s photo roll when she’s overcome and has to see that smile again.

In the back, Jason Todd wears dark shades and a clean black suit. Roy Harper is beside him, a hand on the broad back to keep him grounded, to keep the Pit rage at bay. If anyone knows how far Tim and Jason had come over the years, it’s the former Red Arrow. If anyone knows how much agony Jason is in at this moment, at another fallen brother, another Robin gone, if anyone had held the Red Hood while he screamed and cried and broke the utter fuck down, it’s Roy Harper.

Damian Wayne hovers right by Grayson’s side, silently supporting his first Batman, his first brother. Whenever Dick’s eyes start going hazy, glazing over, Damian gently grips a wrist to bring him back, allows fingers to lace through his own and tolerates the tight squeeze that obviously assists in grounding the oldest Robin. 

(Later when the night is crowding grief-stricken Wayne Manor, Damian will be the one to open Grayson’s bedroom door, lift the covers to crawl in behind him, to wind both arms tightly. He will be the one to take the onslaught of grief, to be soaked in tears and snot, to listen to the broken, hoarse voice, to make soothing hums that ultimately mean nothing.)

Alfred Pennyworth quietly talks with the funeral director about the arrangements. Of course Master Timothy would want to be laid to rest with his parents, and the family appreciates all the support and ease of process as the deceased was an important part of the Wayne family. 

When he gets a phone call, he firmly verifies the name on the tombstone is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne Grayson.

**

Exactly four days after the service, the Flash is staring at him helplessly, gripping Nightwing’s arm tight, “please, please, Dick, don’t do this. You can’t think this is the answer!”

He can barely hear Wally with the absolute destruction going on around them, the machine they’d inadvertently stumbled upon (which is a lie, Nightwing had been looking for it and the Flash basically caught him red handed). 

“You know you aren’t going to be able to stop me.” Standing between the glowing portal and Wally, debris from overhead crashing down on them at intervals, Nightwing is at his peak stubborn, “no matter how fast you are.”

“You don’t understand what’s going to happen,” Wally yells desperately as the vacuum starts pulling at Nightwing’s other arm, pulling him into–

–the Speed Force.

“You don’t have the lightning, Dick, you won’t be able to get yourself out, and I won’t have any way of tracking you!”

The small smirk as the machine’s panel starts going haywire, lights blinking and readings off the charts, makes Wally’s heart clench hard in his chest, makes him try to dig in his heels, makes his stomach tremble.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve already done this, Wally. And I’ll do it as many times as it takes until I change everything.”

The pellet Nightwing palmed before the Flash grabbed his hand goes off the same time the machine hits the highest ratings and a low boom is followed up with an intense swirling suction, pulling the heroes closer to the portal’s surface.

The light grenade goes off without a hitch and the Flash has no choice but to let Nightwing go.

**

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows. 

[powerosewaterpuff]

yk so i was watching bmw (boy meets world :) ) while procrastinating an essay so oF COURSE i decided to write some more of my reverse robin au (that pertains to jason being the oldest of the batkids w/ him and dick growing up together) except fLUFF bc i cannot handle angst rn (oR cOulD I wE wiLL nEvER kNoWwwW)

oh and disclaimer there may be several medical inaccuracies so please feel free to correct me :)

jason often gets night terrors, ones that can get particularly awful when bruce goes on an overnight business trip. so one night bruce is in new york after being forced into it by lucius, with dick being adopted for some time now. dick was awake because he was having trouble sleeping, for no real particular reason in all honesty. he heard a short yell though, coming from the room next to him and he dashed over, tripping over his blanket and still gripping zitka tightly. he knew that he wasn’t supposed to fight yet, but he doesn’t really think about that as he yanked jason’s door open.

he then saw his brother laying on his side, turning back and forth, breathing heavily looking so visibly pained it was hurting dick. he rushed over to jason, his eyes darting around because he just didn’t know what to do. taking his chances he tapped jason’s shoulder gently, and he already felt like it wasn’t the right move but he sucked it up and tried again, only this time to some result. jason shot up, gripping on tightly to dick’s arm, his eyes hazy and unfocused and his chest heaving.

dick remained still, only slowly trying to push jason off of him and back into his bed. jason’s grip didn’t let but he laid back in bed, squeezing his eyes tightly as if he was trying to push away everything he had just witnessed. dick took this as an initiative to gently climb into bed, as jason fell back into a less violent but equally as stressful sleep. he placed zitka next to jason, who still hasn’t let go of his arm, and awkwardly sat up in bed, almost acting as a protector. slowly, dick began to doze off, feeling a lot more comforted in his brothers prescence then he had been in his own room.

jason on the other hand, doesn’t remember much of that night, as he rarely fully remembers any of his night terrors (only the scars they leave behind), but when he wakes up at the ass crack of dawn with a few fragments of something he would prefer not to remember, he puts it together rather quickly. he guessed it would happen, and he could’ve told bruce and he knew the guy would drop anything in a heartbeat, but that pissed him off, more so then it justifiably should. he wasn’t a child and he hadn’t been a child for a long fucking time, and it was stupid that he couldn’t deal with a single night without bruce. jason then turned onto his side, disgruntled with a new found rage directed at himself that he might take out on someone else, when he found dick, sleeping at an awkward position.

he was leaning on the headboard, but was slumped down and drooling a bit, which would have been hilarious blackmail material on any other given day. but today, jason felt a pit in his stomach. the only rational thought that his mind could conjure in its fear muddled frenzy was please tell me i didn’t hurt dick, pleasepleasepleaseplease. he quickly checked over dick’s face, cupping his checks and looking for any signs of a bruise. he had given bruce a particularly nasty one earlier in his tenure at the manor, after bruce attempted to restrain him while he was having a night terror so he could avoid hurting himself, instead jason kicked him in the jaw. he even felt bad about it the next day, which was an odd surprise for him at the time.

after checking over dick hasilty, he could see he wasn’t all that hurt, even though if he looked hard enough he could see inklings of nail shaped markings in dick’s right arm just under his shirt sleeve. jason felt a bit of bile rising up, as he gently shifted dick into a better sleeping position, and pulled the blanket up to his chin and slipped a pillow underneath him. dick opened his bleary eyes, mumbling jason’s name in question, and squinting his eyes. jason rolled his eyes but nodded, “yeah, it’s me. now sleep–why’re you shaking yer head? you don’ wanna sleep? too bad.” jason pressed another pillow onto the side of dicks face in a teasing attempt to smother him to sleep, but dick only proceeded to giggle, and snuggle closer to jason, who had sat up already. jason tossed the pillow to the side after a few seconds of play fighting, dick was going to be too sleepy to remember this break in the ‘teasing older brother’ façade. so, he ran his hand through his little brothers hair and laid back down, tracing soft circles into dick’s scalp absentmindedly. and feeling a rush of gratitude that bruce had brought this little circus boy into his life. he really didn’t know what he would do without his little brother. (needless to say, dick became a constant comforter in jason’s night terrors).

jason blames dick for everything. if a vase got knocked over, it was a dick. if the tv wasn’t working, dick had been playing with the satellite. if his phone was missing, dick stole it to play games. if his sweater had a stain, you better bet it was dick. the boy in question, of course, adamantly denies these facts and does have a way of persuading bruce (he is the golden child after all, jason could testify to that), but bruce also knows both of his boys are annoyingly good liars. so every incident is treated like a little miniature crime scene, and it never fails to make jason howl in laughter at dick explaining how he couldn’t have possibly used up jason’s shampoo because he has his own washroom with his own shampoo and so w h y jason w h y would i steal your shampoo. (jason’s usual response is a deadpanned ‘why wouldn’t you’, and that just gives bruce another headache as the two bicker on and on and on.)

the pair of them usually go biking together, and it’s usually quite tranquil to start. until dick makes a sly comment that jason’s old bones must be so tired from cycling, so why not take a break? jason snide reponse is how the fuck are you touching the pedals with your stubby ass legs. that’s really all it takes for them to delve into a full on biking race. it never really ends well, but the two always come out rolling in laughter so whose to complain.

dick thinks real housewives of beverly hills is better then new jersey, and jason is adamant that new jersey is superior in every shape and way. the two agree that atlanta is the absolute winner no matter what though.

jason is dick’s english tutor. and it’s safe to say that it’s an experience. dick already knew a fair amount of english growing up, his father had been a wonderful teacher but it wasn’t exactly up to gotham academy standards apparently (jason knew the feeling) and his accent was still quite prevalent to have him be considered an esl kid, so jason ended up being his tutor once dick started going to english class at school and after his time with an esl instructor. jason, who has an untapped passion for literature that not many can match, is absolutely dedicated to teaching dick, because fuck man this is genius! genius, dick! and dick isn’t exactly a fan, but he does secretly think jason should be a teacher, he’s better then any of the teachers he’s had that’s for sure (his father would’ve really loved jason too, that was also for sure). and dick is considering buying him a little briefcase with his little initials on it. ((it happens, and jason tries really really hard not to cry))

bruce is absolutely that parent that secretly takes pictures of every single moment possible. he isn’t a photographer, in any sense, but he likes to capture natural moments, and he has a series of pictures dedicated to the one trip him and the boys took to Barbados where he started this habit. he wasn’t and still isn’t a big fan of beaches, they’re hot, crowded and just too much for bruce to feel any kind of comfortable in. he remembers sitting under a floppy beach umbrella, feeling the knot in his chest sit heavily on his heart, fire ants scurrying across the underlining of his skin, burning under the side stares of those passing by. it wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of dick riding on jason’s little shoulders, as they trotted around waist deep in the clear ocean water, that the fist squeezing his heart like the rotten fruit it was began to ease. he glanced down at the camera that alfred had subtly slipped into their bag after dicks insistence, and lifted it up to fiddle with it slightly. then raised it up to take a swift picture. capturing jason mid laughter as he leaned back, in a joking attempt to shake dick off who was in the middle of a yelp but had entrenched his hands in jason’s mop of curly hair. it was hilarious imperfect, but bruce would not want it any other way. not at all.

(jason found it once. he saw the picture at the corner of his eye sitting by the keyboard of the ‘Batcomputer’ ((dick was so shitty with names, thank god he didn’t come up with flippy man as his code name )), and he hesitated for a moment before hastily grabbing it. examining it with an unexpected amount of gentleness, he rubbed his thumb against the glass above dick’s hands in his hair and felt something snake around his heart. slowly and methodically seeping into it until he felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe. then he heard damian trotting down the stairs as he explained the details of his anthropology class to dick who was hopping down behind him. jason shoves the picture back and grits his teeth together to ignore the sting that was absolutely not in his eyes)

aAAAND THATS ALL!! i’ve had these in my notes for a while so it’s relief to get them out there hehe so i really hope y’all enjoy ive legit been falling in love with this reverse au bC THERE IS SO MUCH POTENTIAL U G H IVE NEVER BEEN EXCITED TO WRITE SHIT UNTIL NOW SO Y A Y FOR INSPIRATION

Y A Y :)

[litrally]

Be Enough

Summary: Damian knew he wanted to live up to the legacy he was given--he just had no idea hearing that he'd failed to do it would hurt so damn much.

Damian’s foot whirled out to the side, his heel connecting with the thug’s temple and making him drop like a rock. He ducked under another’s flying fist, jerking his head up to strike the man under his chin, throwing him off balance before slamming his fist into the side of the man’s head.

Damian’s body was aching, and though he would never admit it, his strikes had grown the slightest bit sloppy over the course of the fight. There were about 20 bodies dropped on the floor around him, but there were still another 10 men circling him, looking for an opening to with which to take him down. Damian vaguely noted the small puddle of blood that had pooled beneath his feet--actually, it probably had to do with the dull ache that was spreading across his lower back that made it a little hard to breathe each time his torso moved.

His comm crackled to life in his ear. “Robin,” Grayson’s voice came through as Damian ducked under another fist flying towards him. “I’ve located Crane, but he’s dispersed the toxin throughout the building. I’m going to start locating it.” Dick paused for a moment. “Unless you need backup.”

Damian rolled his eyes, despite having to fight to keep the breaths that were now coming out in gasps as even as possible. “I’m fine, Batman. I don’t need your assistance.”

There was a long gap before Grayson responded. “Are you--”

“Get the toxin out,” Damian snapped. “There are lives at risk and I don’t need your backup to take out a few thugs-for-hire.”

Damian could hear Dick’s tired sigh through the comms. “Alright. I’m on the roof of the building. I’ll work my way down towards you. Try not to die before I get there. Batman out.”

Damian took a deep breath, dropping low to sweep out the legs of the man in in front of him, trying his best to ignore the pain that took over his shoulder the second he was forced to put any weight on it. Inhale. Thug number seven hit the ground. Exhale. Only three left. He could do this. If only to avoid the humiliation that would undoubtedly prevail if he needed Grayson’s help.

Grayson had done enough for him. Training Damian and letting him work under him as Robin, even though Batman was his birthright, Damian grumbled to himself. But still. Grayson had taken him in and dismissed the incompetent fool that was the last Robin despite having no reason to do so, and Damian found himself working towards every expectation Grayson set. He preened at his praise, a reaction his mother would have killed him for, but Damian realized how much he enjoyed those encouragements; a hand squeezing his shoulder in approval or a grin and a nod when he finally mastered the move he had been working on for weeks--he had grown soft under Grayson’s guidance, yes, but Damian wasn’t entirely sure he disliked it.

Damian’s mind wandered enough about being torn between wanting more of the affection he had grown accustomed to with Grayson and screaming at himself for the weakness that he didn’t notice one of the men sneaking up behind him. He struck the temple of the one in front of him and watched him drop like a stone, but he barely held in the grimace when the last one came up behind him and struck him in the back, directly atop the bleeding wound he already had there. Damian whipped around and took the man down in two moves, but he stumbled as he did so. The world tilted dangerously, and a sort of black fuzziness overtook his vision as he struggled to right himself. Some subconscious part of him noted a faint hissing in one of the corners of the room, but Damian couldn’t do more than tap his comm before the world went black.

Dick was disarming the fourth gas canister when he heard Damian’s comm activate. According to Crane’s confession before Dick knocked him out and left him handcuffed to a flagpole on the roof, there were five canisters throughout the building that had to be taken out before the gas had the chance to overtake the vents. Dick’s hand crept up to his own comm, holding it down as he tried to understand the situation on Damian’s end. “Robin?”

Silence met him at the question. “Robin, are you in need of assistance?”

Something in Dick’s chest jumped at the lack of response, his jog as he approached Damian’s floor broke into a sprint.

Dick gaped at the scene that greeted him. Approximately 30 men scattered throughout the room, all of which covered in varying degrees of injuries but none of them, he noted with no small amount of relief and a little bit of pride, lethal. But his mood immediately faded as he noted the crimson-clad form slumped in the corner of the room.

“Robin?” he asked somewhat hesitantly, before noticing the slight green tinge that had taken over the air surrounding him. “Shit,” Dick murmured under his breath, noticing the vent a few feet from Damian that was releasing the dense smoke that was probably the last of the fear gas he had been unable to locate. Dick shoved a rebreather between his teeth and pried open the vent cover as fast as he could. As far as he could see, all of the thugs were still too far away to be affected, but Damian...Damian would probably be spending the night in the med bay of the cave.

As Dick worked, Damian’s quiet whimpers began to take over the heavy silence of the room. He didn’t seem to be moving much, likely due to the growing puddle of blood that Dick was trying to ignore for the moment, because if he thought about it too long he’d scoop Damian up and run him the cave as fast as he could, fear gas be damned. But Dick kept his composure, clipping the last wire on the canister to ensure no more of the gas would be released and tapped a few buttons on his gauntlet to redirect the building’s airflow outward.

Dick made his way over to Damian and gently pressed his fingers to his throat to check his vitals. He was still whimpering and his finger’s had began twitching as well, the only reason he likely wasn’t full out thrashing being that his body no longer had the energy for it.

Dick’s finger’s went to his ear. “Agent A, I need you to prep the medbay. Robin’s been gassed, and I can’t tell if it’s a new strain or one of the ones we have an antidote on hand for.”

“Understood,” Alfred’s voice came through. “Do I need to prepare any supplies for you?”

“No,” Dick replied, carrying Damian to the batmobile parked just outside the building. “I’m fine. I’m leaving with Robin now. ETA about 25 minutes.”

“Alright. I shall have everything ready for you when you arrive.” Alfred said.

Dick kept glancing over at Damian as they drove home, every twitch and mumble pulling his attention from the road. But Damian was remarkably...calm for someone on fear gas. It should have been reassuring, but something about it made Dick’s insides twist painfully.

Alfred was already jogging over before the car came to a full stop in the cave. Dick lifted Damian with an arm under his knees and the other behind his shoulders, careful to avoid jostling the long slice that ran laterally across his lower back. Alfred started an IV as Dick laid him down.

“I’m putting in the antitoxin for the latest strain we have on file,” Alfred said, slowly pressing down on the plunger inserted into the IV tube. “But he seems to be having some sort of delayed reaction to it, so I am not confident it will work.”

Dick pulled his cowl down, running a hand through his hair as Alfred began to dress the number of wounds covering Damian’s body. God, he looked so...small. So young. What the hell was Dick doing taking him out into the field and leaving him in a room with thirty men?

Alfred glanced back at him, seeming to take note of the anxiety in Dick’s stance. “Go take a shower, Master Dick. Master Damian is stable for now, and I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Dick opened his mouth to object, but a look from Alfred had him turning on his heel and tossing the cape from his shoulders onto the chair in front of the batcomputer.

By the time he came out, Alfred was packing up the medical supplies and Damian was tucked firmly beneath the blankets kept in the medbay, looking borderline peaceful. Dick pulled up a chair and settled near Damian’s head.

“I’ll go upstairs to go prepare for tomorrow’s activities. You’ll be staying here, I assume?” Alfred asked.

Dick nodded, too tired to respond verbally. Alfred squeezed his shoulder gently as he passed by. “Let me know if you need anything,” he murmured. Dick nodded again, then leaned his head back against the chair, keeping his eyes on Damian. He made it almost an hour before falling asleep.

Damian shot up in his bed, his head sweeping frantically around the room to try and take in as many details as possible. Grayson was seated in front of him, and Damian tried to bring himself to his feet, but he found something pinning him down, like he was tied to the gurney. He didn’t like it--it made him feel caged. Boxed in. Too vulnerable.

Grayson stood and strode towards him, something about his gait making Damian far more nervous than it had any right to. Grayson’s stance and demeanor always reminded Damian of a cat--dangerous when it needed to be, yes, but light and gentle. But this...this Grayson reminded him of a wolf.

“What the hell were you thinking with that fight?” Grayson hissed, leaning forward in a way that had Damian unconsciously scrabbling backwards towards the edge of his bed.

“I--” Damian began, but Dick cut him off. “How the hell have you managed to stay alive this far? Why did Talia even bother dealing with you? You clearly didn’t inherit of her skills,” he scoffed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

Some part of Damian flinched at that, but he rallied, even if the words came out in a whimper to his own ears. “My father was--”

“Your father,” Dick said, turning away from him with a humourless laugh. “Don’t even get me started on your father.” Dick turned back towards him, holding Damian’s gaze and spitting the words like venom. “Your father would be so disappointed in the way you turned out. You’re a pathetic excuse for Robin, and you’re not worthy of the cape you wear across your back. You are not worthy,” Dick repeated, “of anything.”

Damian began pulling at the invisible bonds tying him to the bed, every single word striking him like a knife to the chest. “You’re wrong,” he said, fighting to keep his words stable and yet still hearing a slight wobble to them as they spilled form his lips. “You’re wrong. You--You said--”

“I don’t give a damn what you think I said,” Grayson hissed, bringing his his face close to Damian’s in a lethal whisper. “I hate you.”

Damian wasn’t sure when the tears started spilling from his face. The words had struck something in him, something far deeper than what he had thought he was capable of feeling.

“You...” Damian’s voice came out small, even to his own ears. “You don’t mean that?” The phrase should have been definitive. Strong, Yet it came out as a question. God, Grayson was his partner. Damian should have known his true feelings like his own.

“I hate you,” Grayson repeated, his teeth grinding together in absolute loathing. “I hate you so. Damn. Much.”

Damian’s quiet tears of shock had changed into full out sobs. “Nonono wait, please,” he gasped in between whimpers. “I’ll--I’ll do better. I swear. Please, just, please don’t say that. Please don’t mean it.”

Grayson’s gaze remained fixed on him. His lip curled in distaste, and he only looked more disgusted with Damian’s pleading. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a Wayne or an Al Ghul. It was mistake taking you in. You’ll never be good enough to be my Robin, and you’ll never be worthy of anything your father left you.”

Damian’s vision blurred, no longer taking in anything around him. His world was fury and shame and exhaustion, but most of all, utter disappointment in the fact that he knew that everything from Grayson’s mouth was true. So he lost it completely. He sobbed and shook and screamed and begged Grayson to take him back. To let him prove himself as someone worthy of everything he had been given.

But Grayson’s face was like stone: utterly immoveable and ruthless. So Damian just went on pleading.

Dick jerked awake to the sound of the heart rate monitor spiking. Then he noted the alternated sobs and whimpers coming from the previously silent body asleep beside him. He pushed himself to his feet immediately checking over IV lines and oxygen masks before realizing, shit, the fear gas must have kicked in.

He touched Damian’s shoulder gently, trying his best to pull him out of whatever nightmare scenario that had him sobbing out in his sleep, trying to ignore then painful twist in his chest every time he heard some variation of “Grayson, please, I’m sorry!”

It took almost an hour of shaking Damian’s shoulders and yelling his name before his eyes flew open. Dick glanced at the clock and did the quick calculation in his head. The toxin should be more or less out of Damian’s system by now, but the haunted look in his eyes seemed to say differently.

“Grayson,” Damian began, his voice hoarse and raw from the events of the night. His eyes were red and puffy, and tear tracks ran all over his face. “I--how long was I unconscious?”

Dick looked at him cautiously. “A few hours. Actually, I think the sun will be up soon.” Dick fell silent, watching Damian try and slow his breathing again before continuing. “Are you alright?”

Damian stiffened, and Dick started frantically running through everything he’d said and done since picking Damian up that might have elicited that reaction.

“I’m fine,” he replied, though the utter exhaustion in his tone seemed to convey otherwise.

Dick turned away for a moment (and could have sworn Damian almost deflated at the action) but returned almost immediately, holding out a water bottle.

Damian reached out to take it, and if Dick didn’t know any better, he could have sworn his hands were shaking he slightest bit. Dick settled himself on the bed near Damian’s legs, crossing his arms and watching silently as Damian sipped slowly at his water. As he twisted the lid back onto the bottle, Damian opened his mouth to speak again, his eyes never wavering from some invisible speck on the floor.

“Do...do you hate me?” Damian asked, his voice wavering the slightest bit and Dick could have sworn something in his chest cracked at the question.

“No, of course not, Damian,” he murmured, trying and failing to ignore the way every muscle in Damian’s body relaxed at the response.

“I know I’m not an easy person to take care of,” Damian began, still refusing to make eye contact with Dick. “And I know I don’t live up to the legacy that father left behind. And I know I’m probably not good enough for it, but--”

Dick cut him off by wrapping his arms around Damian’s shoulders and tugging him against him. Damian’s breaths began coming out in harsh gasps and he was crying again before he could really register what had happened.

Dick shut his eyes and began rubbing soothing circles around his back, letting Damian ride out the emotional effects of the fear gas for as long as he needed to. After a few minutes, Dick started talking again.

“Your father,” he said, “left me some really big shoes to fill. And honestly, I’d be lying to you if I said that you weren’t one of the most difficult parts of that.” Dick felt Damian tensing up against him at that again. “But,” he continued, “You’re one of the best parts of it too.”

“I was terrified to be Batman,” he admitted, his voice sounding more vulnerable than Damian had ever heard it in the weeks they’d worked together. “But somehow...somehow having you with me, to train and to work with, made it a little better. Damian, you gave me something real to work for, something I could look at and watch grow when every single thing Bruce did seemed too big for me to handle. And that is why,” he continued, his voice shaking the slightest bit, “you are an amazing Robin.”

“I’m not saying you’re perfect,” he added with a soft laugh, “but your dad would have been so proud of you. Like I am. So no, I don’t hate you.”

Damian was crying in his arms again, but these tears seemed different than the ones from before. Dick stroked his hair and held him close, even when his shoulder became damp from Damian’s tears, and didn’t move from there until Damian pulled away just enough to look him in the eye.

“Thank you, Grayson. For all of it.”

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 12

The next waffle was perfect, crispy golden and almost a perfect circle, with beautiful melted pools of chocolate dotting the surface, with two almost perfectly in the Eevee pattern’s eyes, and Jason passed it over to Steph’s plate as he chanted a few Latin prayers, grinning as she burst into cackles at his terrible imitation of a priest. He’d utterly butchered the old prayers, but eh, it wasn’t like he was practicing anymore, and it made Steph laugh, so he still felt it was doing right by a God he’d long since stopped believing in.

“Oh god, you’re Catholic, aren’t you?”

“Eh, technically I’m a Resurrectionist—” She snorted at that, loud and adorable and perfect (everyone always looked weirded out, and Jason had, early on, always done his best to snort the same way. Weird dead Robins had to look out for one another.) He snickered in response. “But yes, I’m a former Catholic. Used to go to St. Maria’s as a kid, before Father John cleaned the place up.”

“…And the chanting?”

“Look, we only fucked up one waffle! Gotta bless it before shit goes south again.” She laughed at that, bold and happy and loud, and he planted kisses all over her face before turning back to the waffle maker and getting it going again. Glancing back over his shoulder, Jason grinned to see Steph holding up a fork with a triangle of waffle, topped with whipped cream and one of the raspberries she’d washed up, and he took the offering with a nom, groaning as the concoction melted in his mouth. Chewing, he gave her a thumbs up, already planning on making one for himself, and she chuckled, spraying on whipped cream and tossing on raspberries with abandon, then diving right in.

“Ooohhhhh this is soooooo good.”

“And somewhat healthy, that’s the lowfat whipped cream and everything’s organic.” He grinned after swallowing his mouthful of heaven, mouth watering already as he watched the waffle maker count down with hungry eyes; together, they switched off and a half-dozen waffles for each later, plus bacon and eggs, they were settled on Steph’s tiny couch and snuggled up close, groaning over their shared food babies. Jason had tucked a warm blanket over them both, because the rain coming down outside was just a little chilly for his tastes, and her apartment was…definitely on the list to be reno’d.

“…mmm…”

“Hmm?”

“This is really nice, Jay…”

“Yeah it is…” He murmured, tucking her head into his shoulder and pressing a kiss to her forehead, scarred fingers gently playing with a long curl of her hair before shifting to comb through the rest of her curls, making her purr against his neck.

“Ohhhh yes…please don’t stop…” He chuckled and shifted just a little so that he could bring his other hand up; with both hands, he started working on the knots in her neck and shoulders, on up into her scalp and back down, careful to comb away her soft curls so that they didn’t tangle. Steph melted into his chest, all the tension from the week just falling away as they snuggled to the song of rain and thunder outside, and Jason hummed softly as she whimpered at the release of one particularly bad knot in her right shoulder.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah…fuck…been hurting there for a while now…”

“Why didn’t you say something?” She snorted softly, then sighed.

“You know how everyone is…”Do yoga, work it out, or just deal with it.” Jason heaved a heavy sigh himself at that, wincing.

“Touché, not being a part of the daily Batdrama made me forget about Bruce’s general masochism about pain and aches. Well, tell ya what; whenever either of us is hurting, how about we either work on each other, or go see an expert? I’ll foot the bill.”

“Yes, please. I’m…well, I don’t know how to massage someone properly? I’m guessing you learned from Alfred…”

“Talia, actually, and Nyssa while she was part of the League. Ra’s thinks it’s stupid, because it’s a ‘women’s weakness’ or some bullshit, but Talia and Nyssa both used massage as a tool, among their subordinates and with one another. And me, I guess, I was the odd duck out; most of the men were under Ra’s, while Talia’s personal guard was exclusively female.”

“She knew you, though.” Jason smiled at that, sad at the memories, and nodded, kissing her cheek now as Steph shifted up to meet his eyes. He normally didn’t like making a lot of eye contact with people, hence the hood, but Steph…it was different. Like Nyssa, in a way…Talia I never did, because she would take that as a challenge, but Nyssa and I grew to be good friends, and it was…easy with her. B always thought I was interested in her, but no; she’s just a familiar soul, I suppose. Steph, however, was even easier; there was always something in her gaze that reminded him of his own reflection, and he was sure that could be psychoanalyzed into oblivion, but he wasn’t gonna go that deep.

“She did. Damian…probably doesn’t remember all that well, but I was basically his babysitter for Talia for the short time I was there; she trusted a Robin, even one as much a zombie as I was at first, because even with the Pit madness, I was…well. Protective.” She smiled a little, and he smiled back, stroking her cheek now. “I never shoulda left him there, but…well…”

“You did what you could.”

“Yeah…and Talia was fine with me kiting off; taking Damian would have gotten me killed again. I’m just so glad she turned him over to Bruce…”

“Me too. It’s…B’s not the greatest parent, but he’s really working with Damian, which is huge given the crap he’s pulled with all of us.” Jason chuckled at that, nuzzling her cheek, and she kissed him softly, settling against his side. He tucked her close, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders, and rubbed her lower back now, grinning as she melted back into his shoulder.

“I think Damian reminds him of Dick, in a lot of ways, just more aggression, like me. So, instead of Tim, who’s learned, like Bruce, to control all his emotions in one clean, collected package, he has a Robin with attitude and a whole lotta baggage again, and he’s having to jump through hoops that he could largely train out of both Dick and I. Fortunately, Damian’s just as stubborn as B, and it’s kinda great that he’s been able to force some changes of his own.” Steph chuckled at that.

“Like Batcow, Alfred the Cat, Titus…”

“Fuckin’ Goliath, and lemme tell you, Demon Kitty was not on the list of potential pets B was willing to consider.”

“Which was why Damian just brought him home and didn’t care.” Jason snickered, laughter rumbling through his chest, which made Steph snuggle in more, much to his delight.

“Yup, and the look on B’s face is one I’ll treasure forever.” She giggled, and kissed him again, and Jason melted into the kiss, groaning when her hand started rubbing up and down his neck. He rolled a little more onto his side so that her arm didn’t cramp, and let out a full body sigh, snuggling around her. “Ohhhh baby you don’t have to…”

“I want to, Jay…tell me if I do something wrong?”

“I doubt you will, but yes, if it comes up…fuuuuuuuuuuuck oh hell yeah, right there.” He almost whimpered when she started scritching his scalp, nuzzling her hair with a moan of relief. It was better than sex, in a way; this was…grounding, and comforting, and more intimate. “Ffffucksofuckinggood.”

“This is for making me waffles, you amazing, wonderful, glorious man. I’m not sure I’m ready for sex yet, so hairscritches are at least a decent substitute?”

“Sosogoodbetterthansex.” He mumbled out, and she giggled again, shifting him so that he was facedown in the pillows and Steph was straddling his hips, working her hands up and down his back over his teeshirt, and Jason just went limp, eyes rolling with relief as his scarred muscles were carefully worked free of kinks and knots. Steph had said she hadn’t a clue, but she was gentle on his back, not pressing too hard, nor was she too light on the scars; her hands were softer than his, less callused, and so the gnarled skin over each old wound didn’t tense or ache from too much sensation. She mapped out his back with care, and with a sigh, he reached a hand back and patted her thigh.

“Babe, don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re not a genius, because that is amazing.” He could almost feel the brightness of her smile, and he chuckled as she leaned down to kiss his shoulder, purring at the warmth of her body on top of his. “Seriously.”

“I’m so glad…I hope your scars aren’t hurting?”

“Definitely not, not even twinging like usual from the rain…How about you?” She sighed a little, snuggling in closer, and he craned his neck around, worried. “Babe?”

“I’m…a little achy, but it’s in weird spots…I don’t wanna be gross…” She murmured, nuzzling his shoulder, and he gently rubbed his hand up and down her thigh, ignoring the awkward position.

“…It’s not gross if it’s things that hurt.” He murmured, and she shifted back, letting him turn and face her, green eyes earnest. “Cramps? Period? I can run out and get you whatever you need?” She blushed, shaking her head, then nodded, then sighed, and he gently drew her back into his arms, tucking her between his legs and wrapping the blanket around her, snuggling her close. “The scars Sionis gave you too?”

“…Yeah. I…Look, this is gonna be…really fuckin’ gross, but when he tortured me…he…he didn’t just limit himself to my stomach and breasts…” She murmured, gulping a little, and he closed his eyes, swallowing back the sudden rage. “He didn’t put the drill in me, thank fuck for that, but things are…kinda fucked up down there. And yeah, it’s my period going, so it’s just…extra gross…” Steph blushed bright red, and he gently stroked back her curls, eyes soft, patient. “…I have to wear the disposable underwear that old people use…”

“…Oh sweetheart, that’s okay. Does it work?” She glanced up, eyes brimming with tears, and he gently kissed her brow, her cheek, her nose, her lips, brushing soft kisses all over her face, but she nodded, one lone tear overflowing. He gently brushed it away, cupping her cheek. “Then that’s all that matters to me. I won’t be grossed out, I won’t be upset. Hell…when you do see me naked, you might run away. I’m…not exactly in great shape down there, either. Missing one of my balls and my dick ain’t the straightest.” He followed that with a fake grin, still embarrassed, deep down, but she saw right through him; Steph shook her head and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“If Roy and the others didn’t care…I won’t. Besides…” She huffed out a laugh, and he felt a real smile touch his lips again. “It just means we can be fucked up together. But…thank you for not being grossed out anyway. It’s…you’re the first person to know besides B and Leslie…and B only knows because he hacked the hospital records. And you’re the only person who’s…probably ever gonna see them, which…I’m fine with.” He smiled at that, and she smiled back, kissing him softly. “So long as you intend to keep that proposal available.”

“Baby, it’s all yours; hell, we could go out one of these days and get a set of rings.”

“…You really want a set?”

“Fuck yeah I do, I wanna be a kept man.” The snort she gave was absolutely adorable, and Jason grinned wide at that, feeling their previous good mood return finally, and Steph kissed him, full and happy and perfect, before snuggling back into his chest.

“…So, kept man…could you rub my lower back again? Cramps are hitting me hard…” He placed his hands over her hips, gently rubbing and warming the area, and Steph sighed, dropping her head onto his shoulder, the tension bleeding out of her limbs. “Fuck…thank you…”

“So welcome, sugar…Wanna watch something mindless?” She smiled, and as Jason grabbed the remote, she let out a soft sigh, snuggling in closer, and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead once more, running his hand over her lower back and keeping her safe and warm.

Yeah.

He really loved Sundays.

[witchsblackfox]

Escape to The Circus

Chapter 25 (couldn't think of a title)

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

Damian was in the study reading through his father's books. The grand father clock chimed it was only seven thirty but it felt like midnight. With a sigh he decided to go check on his little sister. She looked pretty upset with herself if she's awake I'll take her do the bat cave to practice. He thought closing the book setting it down on the table and head toward the stairs. A thump was heard just in the hallway above.

"Cass." He ran upstairs hearing a sound of whimpers and finding a bluenette curled up into her knees breathing heavily. Damian gently touched her shoulder feeling her body freeze in place no longer shaking or breathing. "Are you okay?" Her eyes were glazed over tears welled up clearing the dazed look. She uncurled herself and pushed herself into him crying into his chest. Damian was a little confused by the small woman. This woman who is a mute circus performer, or was. This woman who is attractive and confident that she has all of them crazy for her. This woman who can switch to evil in a second if something Malcore is around. Now she is just crying apologizing into his chest holding onto his shirt as tight as possible. Defeated he softly stroke her back sitting on his toes to rock her.

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize. It's alright Mari." This continued for a little bit longer until he heard footsteps coming up the steps. Swiftly he slipped his arms underneath her legs, lifted her up as a princess, then took her to his room for some privacy. He set her down on the bed and grabbed his desk chair to sit in. "Want to talk about it?" She wiped her eyes off with the sleeve of the jacket then curled up under it almost disappearing. He expected her to close herself off but she moved her arms out of the jacket to talk.

'I keep hearing things. Voices all over the manor. not your family, but others. My head hurts when I try to remember anything. I feel like I'm stuck in a dream and I just can't wake up. When you said the circus disappeared, I remembered. I thought it was all a dream I was watching through a mirror. I'm sorry." She was looked so tired as she spoke. Damian began to get annoyed with her apologies but he got up and just hugged her.

"I'm not good with this, but we are trying to help you. Dick, Tim, Jason, and even Alfred are trying to help Selina find a cure for what that Asshole Malcore did to you. There is no reason to apologize besides, we all became monsters at some point in our pasts. So we don't blame you at all." The words escaped him but it seemed to help her. She relaxed into his body and pressed closer to him. "Can you tell me what you heard before I found you?"

'I don't remember much, just people fighting, a doctors voice, then a pain in my chest.' She signed giving Damian a pinch on his arm to explain the pain. The man gasped yanking his arm away.

"Ouch. Okay. Well your okay now right? Alfred he left yours and Cass's dinner wrapped and in the kitchen if your hungry. Her eyes shimmered excitedly and climbed off the bed with a wiggle. Damian smiled watching and watched her run out of his room down to the kitchen. "Geez, how do I keep getting the weird girls."

                                         øøøø

Down in the batcave, Batman decided he and Red Hood should go out to patrol leaving Dick, Tim and Alfred to work. Selina walked in from the mouth of the cave before the batmobile runs her over.

"In a hurry much?" She meowed walking toward the boys.

"He's in a mood since Marinette and Cass came back." Tim said focused into the beakers.

"Marinette is back? When?! Can I go see her?" Selina jumped all over the boys hoping for a yes.

"She might be asleep already. Her and Cass didn't come down for dinner. Tim and Jason came up with a way we might be able to save to Mari." Dick said as the skinny woman hugged him. She was so full of energy.

"What is it? Don't keep me waiting." Selina let go and hovered around Alfred. He moved over to let her see what was happening. Next to Tim were two vials of blood, the pills (separated from poisoned and regular pain killer) from Marinette's medication, and the serum from Ivy. Tim took two drops of the blood on a clear circular dish. Crushed the poisoned pills into fine powder. He then sprinkled a little of it onto her blood watching as her blood suddenly multiplied? How could it multiply? Suddenly the blood turned green and evaporated. "Well....that is not right. She'd be dead by now."

"But remember she has the Lazarus water in her, so even so she can't die from blood loss." Alfred said. Tim took a drop of blood onto a slide now and slid it into the Bat computer.

"Computer, analysis the substance." Tim ordered, The screen flipped to a microscope view showing what is on the slide and added notes and circles to the screen telling the team what was there.

"This is a blood sample. In the blood holds the Lazarus pit, Erythroxylum Coca, Hoodia Gordonii, and Cubozoa venom." The computer said.

"Yes we know that already. What else is there that is effecting the blood?" Tim and Selina both said.

"Unidentified Source. could be magic." Oh Bruce wasn't going to like that. "Not Metahuman." The computer said once more then turned off ejecting the glass disk for Tim to take. Tim was close to ripping his hair out.

"So, we are back to square one." Dick said falling into the chair.

"Maybe we just need fresh blood." Selina looked back and forth between the three men and waited for a response. "Did you try Ivy's serum on the old blood?"

"Yes and it just got rid of maybe one or two of the bad cells which just multiplies back." Tim said.

"What we need to focus on is getting her off the meds. The blood we have turned brown like they should but they haven't shown any oddities until we added the meds." Dick said rubbing his eyes They were down stairs for hours.

"Maybe Ms. Kyle is correct. Why not get fresh blood and see how it looks, reacts to the poison, and the cure completely. then maybe find a way to break the control on her mind." Alfred said bringing the sad woman to a smile. She pulled her right arm down and mouthed yes then wrapped her arm around Alfred's heading upstairs. Tim and Dick just blinked and followed to make sure Selina doesn't wake up the girls.

"Speak of the devil! Mari." Selina ran to the woman at the counter with a fork in her mouth. Mari quickly removed the fork and hugged Selina. "I missed you. let me look you over." She did. She stripped the jacket off of Marinette's body, finding new bruises along her neck and arms. The old bruises on her shoulder and left arm are no longer there a relief to the men to see. Marinette quickly covered herself back up with the jacket and faced Selina.

"You look good. Marinette I need a favor." Marinette watched waiting. "I need a little bit of your blood. Can we get some?"

"Not a lot, just a small vial full. This will help us find a cure for you." Tim said stepping over and laid his hands on her shoulders. Marinette looked hesitant then opened her mouth.

"Will it help me remember?" Her voice was soft yet rough sounding. Selina covered her mouth about to cry from the sound. Tim spoke to answer.

"It may not but our friend Harley might be able to help." Marinette nodded then turned on the stool to face the marble top.

"Okay." She sighed slid her arm out from the jacket sleeve and held it in the air. Alfred grabbed a towel to place under her arm along a needle and small vial for Tim. Dick stood beside Alfred as Tim and Selina stayed beside Mari and watched Alfred prick her finger giving it a gentle squeeze to pour into the vial.

                                         øøøø

Mari pulled out her right arm so Mr. Pennyworth can draw blood from her. When she looked at her arm however, she found two unknown bruises sat on her right wrist and in the crook of her elbow with little prick holes. She eyed her arm curiously but turned her attention to the man's hand coming close to hers with a needle and prick it. It didn't hurt again which always unsettled Mari, but she was getting use to it. This should make it easier to be Ladybug I won't have to worry about hurting when I fight. The thought startled her making her flinch while Mr. Pennyworth squeezed her finger. Where did that thought come from? Ow... my head. Once He was finished he placed a bandage on her finger and she yanked it back to rub her head.

"I bet you want to know what is going on. They are not going to cure you, they are looking for a way to kill you. Your immortal now Marinette." The dark voice spoke. As Mari opened and closed her eyes a dark shadow stood behind Mr. Pennyworth moving his hands around the mans neck and just smiled with its bright red eyes.

No your wrong. Stop it leave him alone. They are not trying to kill me. They are trying to destroy you. Now go away! Marinette was upset and she didn't realize she moved her feelings to her face until everyone were backed away from her. The shadow moved away from the elder man and chuckled disappearing back into the shadows. She turned blinked then looked around finding everyone with a concerned face. Frick...

'I'm sorry.' Marinette hopped of the stool and left the kitchen walking outside toward the garden for fresh air. The night was peaceful there at the Manor. She walked through it finding a stone bench with a gargoyle sitting beside it. 'Mind if I join you?' She asked the statue and smiled sitting beside it on the stone bench looking up at the semi starry sky. I just want everything to just stop. This shouldn't even be happening.

"Honey come back to me. Come on baby I love you." Marinette looked around hearing the same female voice from Selina's apartment.

"Hey there Bugaboo." A black cat stepped out from under the bench stretching with a yawn then turned to look at Marinette. She got up petting the gargoyle then walked down the path following the cat. "This way my lady." She stopped in front of a wall of roses. The roses were housing several butterflies and moths. The black cat walked up to Mari purring and rubbing at her ankle. She leaned down picking him up, staring at his bright green eyes a familiar sense almost made her cry. He raised his paw up to her mouth earning a soft smile and a kiss on his pad. Marinette gave him a small hug then walked closer to the flowers looking at the solid white moth almost as big as the moon.

"Bye bye little butterfly." Marinette backed up looking around for the sweet voice then back to the moth it flapped its wings flying away toward the moon. She remained staring at the moon for a bit longer then decided to lay on the grass with the cat and watch the sky fill with butterflies.

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

@starry-bi-sky @zebrabaker @wuvpancakes @18-fandoms-unite-08 @weird-pale-blonde-person @vivilakitty @novicevoice @northernbluetongue @luciferge @krispydefendorpolice @nomiegnome @persephonebutkore @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @magicalfirebird @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @dorkus-minimus @dur55 @disneyfoxuniverse @caffeinetheory @drarryismylife101 @shamefullove @yuulxd @moonlightstar64

[rocket-roach]

Shadows We Know

request from everyone’s favorite fandom mom and queen of knowledge who i admire very much, @fuyunoakegata 

I wanted to write more of this and I think I definitely will at one point, because I love all the boys in this fic and I feel like there’s a lot more for me explore in this story.

ANYWAY. without further ado: here’s dick, jason, and tim dealing (and struggling) with their father and losing someone else very important

Word count: 2133

He’s always had nightmares. They just got worse after his parents were killed. Then they were catastrophic after Bruce died.

Tim running around the manor while he hunted for the ghost of their father didn’t help any.

Patrol had been quiet. Damian didn’t complain as much as he used to, even with Tim’s return to the manor. It had been months since Dick had fired Tim and started the youngest as Robin. But it was nice to have Tim back. Even if he was quickly and drastically reducing the amount of espresso in the house.

His mind was flying. Tim was back, but Jason had been spending nearly every waking hour in Crime Alley. Dick had gone there to bring him home. But the sight of Jay leaving sacks of Big Belly Burger on the fire escapes and at the entrances of the cardboard lean-tos, he left him alone. It didn’t feel right to ask him to come home then. Jason was still healing, and he didn’t want to force open those wounds.

He laid in his bed, aching to go across the hall and ask Bruce for help.

But that was what crazy people didn’t, wasn’t it? Ask the dead for advice. He wasn’t crazy, he rationalized as he slid his feet into the Superman slippers on the side of his bed. He was just out of options. Dick padded across the hall. Bruce’s door opened with its usual soft groan.

Lit only by the full moon outside, the massive master suite was spotless. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the desk, the bedside table, the dresser, or even in the bathroom. Finding the room to his liking, he sat on the bed and laid down. Bruce’s grey comforter was just as fluffy as the day he left it. The former acrobat wiggled underneath it after a beat, wrapping it around himself in a cocoon of warmth.

Dick fell asleep moments later.

He was standing under the big top, the spotlights aimed at the platforms above. His parents stood on the far right one, waving their hands as an invisible crowd cheered loudly. On the left, stood Bruce. He was shouting, Dick could tell from the way that one vein was straining on his forehead and how the tendons on his neck were taught. But he was making no sound.

He was trying to stop the Dick’s parents from leaping. He finally caught sight of Dick in the ring, and Bruce’s glacial eyes pinned him to that spot.

 Over the roar of the crowd, Dick heard Bruce say four words.

“Crime Alley devours children.”

John and Mary’s bodies hit the ground with two wet thuds.

Dick shot awake in his father’s bed, his hair soaked with sweat and tears and snot covering his face. Songbirds were heralding the new day outside of the bay windows, and bile rose in his throat. Dick charged to the bathroom; his hands gripping the porcelain bowl as he vomited. Alfred had started knocking on the door. Dick was too busy dry-heaving over the puke to answer. Then he felt a gentle hand smoothing his hair away from his face.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said softly. “It’s alright, sir. You’re okay.”

“I saw him, Al,” Dick finally said. “in my dream.”

Alfred tried to muffle his groan as he joined Dick on the floor, but from the worried look Dick shot him, he hadn’t been successful.

“Should we move to the bed?”

“I’m old, Master Dick. Not an invalid. Do you want to tell me about the dream?”

“He said something really weird. He said, god, what was it?” Dick bit his lip as he thought. “Oh, that’s right. ‘Crime Alley devours children.’ That’s pretty off the wall, even for him.”

“He might be onto something,” a deep, smoke ruined voice said from the doorway. “Three of the kids under my protection have gone missing within the past three weeks.”

“I came to tell you Master Jason was home,” Alfred spoke.

 They were in the cave after breakfast, with Damian sticking close to Dick’s side. Tim was in the evidence corner, muttering to himself as he putzed with various spoils of intergalactic battle. Jason’s hands kept going to the front right pocket where a pack of Camel blue cigarettes sat, his lighter just barely visible.

“A lot them move down there because they know it’s a favorite spot of ours. I tried scarin’ em off at first, didn’t want them running into any of the usual assholes who hang there. But that only encouraged them. Three weeks ago, 17 kids were living in that alley. As of this morning, there’s only 14. At first, I just thought they’d moved to a better place in the city. But there’s this one kid, Jules Adams. Told me all about how she saw a shadow with fangs take Colton Taylor. He was the first kid who vanished. Then told me that she heard Hank Giaccione yelling about fangs. She told me that, and when I brought her a coffee this morning--”

“You gave a kid coffee?” Tim asked.

“Quiet, Tim. The adults are talking,” Jason waved him off. “Anyway, I brought her coffee and donuts, but Jerome said she vanished just before sunrise. Jerome said he saw giant sharp teeth dragging her down the alley.”

“You’re like four years older than me,” Tim griped.

“We’re supposed to believe that shadows that have teeth are stealing street rats, Todd?”

“I came back from the dead, in case you forgot. I basically raised you.”

“You did not!” Damian shouted.

“Then who wiped your ass when the other ninjas wouldn’t?”

“The ninjas didn’t want to wipe his ass?” Tim asked as he emerged from the evidence corner with a time gun. “Jesus, how much did you poop?”

Dick intervened as Damian began turning beet red. “We’re getting off topic,” He wrapped an arm around Damian, drawing him fully against his side. “What do you think it is, Jay?”

“Sounds like some witchcraft stuff to me,” Tim interjected as a yellow blast of energy blew out of the barrel of the gun. A bat who had been unlucky enough to be downrange suddenly exploded into a giant bat, to which Tim noted: “Huh, guess they really are evolved from Megachiroptera. How ‘bout that.”

The next round fired was neon green, and a very startled and confused bat crashed into the nearest cave wall.

“Tim, stop shooting the bats.”

“I need to figure out how this thing works,” Tim muttered as he wandered back to the evidence corner.

Jason watched as Tim’s mop of messy hair vanished around the wall.

“Is he still looking for Bruce?” Jason asked once it was just the three of him.

“He’s still convinced that he’s not dead.”

“I mean, the boss man thought I was dead. So, did you, Dick. If there’s anything this family is really bad at, it’s staying dead. Anyway, I thought it was witchcraft like Tim did. I talked to Swamp Thing while I was down in Florida vising Roy and he said it didn’t sound like any magical being he’d ever heard of. Then I was thinking about it; the shadow only comes out at night. There’s no report of a shadow with fangs appearing during daylight. I don’t think it’s witchcraft. I think it’s just some psychopath.”

 Dick’s dreams were worse that evening. He was back in the big top. His parents and Bruce were standing in the same spots they were the night before. But the crowd was a writhing mass of black, twisted shadows roaring for a jump. A whip of the black shadows rocketed from the nosebleeds, connecting with Bruce’s back. He was shoved off the platform, his face as stoic as ever as he plummeted down. Feet away from the dirt, he turned his head and looked Dick in the eyes.

“The shadow knows,” He said before his neck broke.

 The next night found Red Hood, Robin, and Batman perched on the various run-down buildings that guarded Crime Alley. Beneath them, kids dressed in ratty old clothes both too large and too small for them scrounged about in the alley for scraps of food. They were all quiet as they watched. If the kids knew they were there, they didn’t acknowledge them. For that, the assembled bats were grateful. It helped them in their hunt. Hours passed. They switched buildings. Ate some Jokerized burgers. Damian beat Jason in four games of rock, paper, scissors. Jason gave Damian a noogie. Dick had to remove a shuriken from Jason’s side.

They did this for 6 days straight.

It had been a week since Jules disappeared. Jason was becoming frantic. The shadow would strike again tonight, he was sure of it. He could taste it like he could taste the staleness of the cigarette he was currently plowing through.

And Dick was nowhere to be found. He’d been trying to hail him all night on the comms, even going so far at one point as to send one of the kids to the police station to turn on the signal. There had been no response.

“Hood to cave,” he murmured. “Tonight’s the night. I could really use some backup. Or, whatever.”

“You know, you’re really bad at asking for help,” Tim responded, the sound of his grapple firing over his comm. “Bats can’t make it tonight. Robin said he had a bad night. He’s down for the count; or at least till the knock-out gas Agent A gave him wears off.”

“Jesus,” Jay breathed. “That bad?”

“He nearly clocked Robin. He’s in a bad way. Don’t worry about briefing me, I’m all caught up.”

Jay noticed one of the cardboard boxes was now leaning to the right, when it had been drifting left towards collapse at the beginning of the evening.

“For the record,” Jason said as Tim landed to his right. “I believe you. I don’t buy it that Bruce is dead.”

The white covered eyes of Tim’s cowl narrowed as he watched his older brother. “Do you really?”

“Speaking as a former dead person myself, yes. Now, I think our perp is down there. Let’s move.”

 The next morning found Jay and Tim, sitting at the table covered in bandages and brooding. Dick joined them. He had dark circles under his eyes which only made the paleness of his face stand out. He sat in his usual spot, to the right of the head seat. None of the boys said anything. They just sat. Alfred entered quietly, serving each one their favorite breakfasts. Chicken and waffles for Dick. Pancakes buried underneath breakfast sausage, bacon, and hash browns. Eggs benedict with a side of yogurt and strawberries for Tim. Cheese stuffed kaek for Damian, with a nice cup of tea.

They ate in silence.

Damian’s plate remained untouched.

 Alfred left the room to go retrieve Damian for his morning repast.

Jason sighed. He really wanted a fucking smoke.

Tim finished his yogurt. He needed to get back to finding his dad.

Dick swallowed a bite that was too big. He wanted his dad to be alive again, so he could get some sleep.

“Master Damian is missing.”

“There were 14 kids this morning,” Tim jolted in his seat.

 Dick decided that he was going to fight off sleep until he could find his youngest brother. It didn’t feel right to see Bruce in his sleep while his son was missing. The bats tore apart Crime Alley, asking every kid for help, taking every piece of evidence. Any criminal unlucky enough to mouth off to Batman that night got a taste of their own teeth.

“It’s almost as if he’s back,” Red Robin whispered to Red hood.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Hood responded.

Eventually, they end up in the Iron District. The snarling of the Batmobile echoed through the derelict buildings. All the clues and evidence they’d collected in their fear and rage was leading them to the original Wayne Enterprises factory. Where their father’s wealth had been quintupled during the industrial revolution.

All the signs were pointing them to the smoke stacks that loomed higher than any others in that area.

The car drove through a loading dock, then straight to the center of the building where the stacks sat. They were out of the car before it was completely still, charging towards the man-sized opening at the bottom of the middle one. Dick charged in first, Tim right on his heels. Jason checked his guns, then stepped through.

 A long haired, very bearded, Bruce Wayne was leaning against the wall with a regular tenant of Arkham Asylum unconscious at his feet. He held a bruise covered Damian in his arms. Those glacial blue eyes were filled with fire.

“He brought me back,” Bruce whispered.

[autumnhobbit]

Dying without company

“You know,” Jason croaks hoarsely, his throat tight with pain and his chest burning from the effort of speaking, “in our line of work, no one expects to live forever.” He pauses to gulp for air that burns as it goes down, and he clenches his eyes shut at the pain the effort causes him–and at how his headache is being exacerbated by Bruce banging against the bars of the cage they’re locked in, roaring threats at their captors. He doesn’t seem to be hearing anything Jason’s saying��he just keeps slamming his hands against the metal frame surrounding them. Jason’s not even sure if he’s speaking English. His posture is wound tight, and anyone even half-sane who saw him this way would turn and run the other direction as quickly as possible.

Jason’s never been sane, though. Plus, there is the small matter of the shrapnel embedded in his chest and stomach–and, more pressingly, the holes the shrapnel left. He’s been trying to put pressure on them since a few minutes after he got them–the first few heartbeats after the rocket launcher fired were nothing but white noise and terror and painpainpain–but his hands are shaking and it doesn’t seem to be doing much good. There’s slippery, sticky blood all over his hands, drenching his uniform, and the few times he’s chanced glancing down at his body he’s only been able to scan the shredded skin, flapping muscle, and the slight darker color of an organ before he’s looked away. He licks his lips, swallows blood and grimaces. But he clears his throat slightly and goes on. “And look, I know I’ve never been a safety-first kinda guy–” A spasm in his stomach makes him clench his eyes shut, keen deep in his throat. “–but I kinda…” he pants, breathless, gives a half-hysterical laugh through his teeth. “…I thought I’d at least make it to thirty.”

It occurs to him, after a long moment of just trying to catch his breath after speaking, that it’s quiet. He chances a glance at Bruce, and blinks when he sees the man just standing there. He’s still clasping the bars, shoulders hunched and so tight Jason can practically feel the rage wafting off him.

Though on second thought, maybe it’s not rage. There’s blood welling up in Jason’s throat, and he can’t stifle a whimper at the sensation. He gags, and then goes into a coughing fit that has him lurching up off the floor slightly, his whole body burning from the inside out and blood everywhere and—

“Shhh.” Something strokes his hair, comforting and gentle. “Breathe, Jay.” There’s another hand on his back, holding him up and rubbing smooth circles. The voice is tense but soothing and reassuring, and Jason finds his gasps growing slower, easier–though he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. His vision comes back slowly, colors bursting into his view in painful light. Bruce’s face, cowl still firmly in place, is above him, the man’s jaw tense in worry. He gently eases Jason’s head down into his lap, cups his face with a gloved hand and carefully wipes the blood from his cheek, his mouth. Jason sighs, leans into the touch and closes his eyes, and Bruce’s hand freezes on his cheek.

“You’re not going to miss out on thirty,” Bruce says, and Jason almost smiles, because Bruce’s voice is as firm as ever and the guy has a desperate need to deny reality.

“I…” he gulps. “I missed you, you know.”

Bruce stiffens further, if that’s even possible.

“Even when I was so angry, even when I hated you, I missed you so, so much, a-and it hurt so damn bad–”

“Jay.” Bruce sounds desperate.

“I just.” Jason’s eyes are burning viciously, almost as badly as his lungs, and he sobs once, the sound choked and odd-sounding from lack of air. “I just want you to know that I did hate you…but I still loved you, too. I…I still…”

“Oh, Jason,” Bruce says, fast and hoarse. His hand slides carefully but fiercely into Jason’s hair, pushing the tangled curls back behind his ear. “I love you too. You know that.”

Jason swallows blood. He does know, and he can hear the pain in Bruce’s tone that reveals how much his doubt hurts, but he can’t help it. He’s always been a cynical son of a bitch. Dying hadn’t changed that before, and it wouldn’t again.

He’s really starting to not feel good. Well, he’s been feeling pretty awful for a good long while now, but now he feels really bad. The pain in his torso—and especially in his stomach—feels deep-seated and intense and pulsing. It throbs in time with his faltering heartbeat, and he feels dizzy and lightheaded, like he’s going to fall over even though he’s lying still. Like he’s going to float up out of his head at any second. Though that might partly be because of the heat—he’s sticky and sweaty and yeah it makes sense that he would be feverish. Puncture wounds and intestines didn’t go well together. He’s probably screwed even if the others get here. Which they probably won’t. He wishes he could accept that fact with a little less desperation. He really doesn’t want to die without getting to say goodbye…and maybe even having them just be there, where he could see them. He imagines it must be awful to watch someone you love die right in front of you, but he reserves the right to think that dying alone is worse. He’d never been so utterly petrified in his life as when he’d died. As utterly weak. All he could do was lay there and cry as he slowly suffocated and wished that Bruce was there.

Bruce is here, now—and probably getting more than a little panicked that he’s spaced out, if the faint pressure on Jason’s face is anything to go by. And Jason’s grateful, he really is. But sue him if he wants the others, too. Even if he hates seeing Dick cry. It always makes him want to cry, too. He doesn’t know if Tim would cry. Maybe. Damian, who the hell knows. Cass would be upset. He thinks maybe she would be the worst.

He faintly feels like he’s being manhandled, and at first he thinks this is it; not in small part because he feels like he’s moving far more than he would be in reality from just being rolled over and tugged upwards. But then his chest hits Bruce’s and the breath leaves him from the pain. Huh. He wasn’t sure he was actually breathing. He supposes that’s a good sign.

“—You can’t do this again, Jason,” Bruce’s voice fades back in as the ringing in Jason’s ears eases off a bit. He rocks back a bit, dragging Jason along. Jason can feel Bruce’s arms around him, supporting him with a tension he knows all too well. “I don’t…” Bruce’s voice breaks, and Jason winces at the first of his hitched sobs. “I just got you back. I don’t want to say goodbye again.” I didn’t want to the first time, Jason hears. “I don’t want you to go.”

Jason takes that in, limp in Bruce’s lap, stuck staring at the collar of Bruce’s suit from where he’s lying, cheek is pressed against Bruce’s collarbone, held there by his dad’s gloved hand cupping his face. Bruce does know that changing position would only help if his lungs were full of blood, not his stomach, right? Jason doesn’t particularly want to go now, either, but…. “Y-You do know that isn’t,” he has to stop to gulp for air, half-laughing a bit at himself and the awkwardness of this situation, “exactly up to me, right, Dad?”

Bruce buries his face in the top of Jason’s head as a response, and Jason just lies there and breathes, listening to Bruce’s shuddering breaths as his tears wet Jason’s hair.

Jason winces. He can’t really move—no strength to—and he can barely feel his face, let alone his limbs. His whole body feels oddly numb…except for his stomach, of course, which is still throbbing with burning pain. He swallows. “…Dad?” He whispers.

Bruce freezes, and only a split-second later Jason’s eased down a bit, his head against Bruce’s forearm so that Bruce can look at him. Jason’s heart seizes a bit; Bruce’s face is streaked with tears. He wets his lips. Bruce probably won’t take this well, either. “Promise me you’ll cremate me. A-As soon as I’m dead. Promise me you won’t bring me back.”

Bruce’s whole body shudders faintly. “What….what are you talking about–”

“You can’t,” Jason wheezes, starting to cry. He doesn’t know why the thought suddenly occurred to him, but now it’s all he can think about, a pressing, real fear that’s a vice around his failing heart. He can’t do it. He can’t be pulled away from his dad’s arms to drift off into emptiness again, only to wake up screaming as his body is torn apart to put it back together. He can’t have his mind like that again. He can’t do it. He just can’t. “I don’t want to do it again, B, please. Promise me you won’t try to get me back, please, please just let–” he chokes on blood and snot. His stomach is probably in shreds now, based off how it feels, and more tears spill out at the thought of it. “Just let me go.”

A gloved hand on his cheek. “Shhh, Jason, calm down, please hold still–”

“Promise, B!”

Bruce hefts him back up again, and Jason feels a big hand cradling the back of his head. “I–” Bruce swallows, crying too. “I p-promise, Jason. I–I won’t.”

Bruce is crying too hard to speak, and so’s Jason, but he still tries to flop his numb arm up towards Bruce. Bruce catches it, pulls Jason’s hand in against his chestplate, to his heart.

Bruce lifts his head, and Jason thinks he hears something. Maybe the dull boom of an explosion. The others, maybe. Hopefully.

“Please,” Bruce whispers, into Jason’s ear. “Please wait.”

It kind of seems like Bruce said that uncertain of whether Jason could still actually hear him or not. It’s okay. He heard it. And he’ll try. It didn’t make a difference last time. But he’ll still do it. Bruce orders most of the time, and Jason still tried to obey, when it made sense. When Bruce asks…Jason tries.

(Ao3 link here.) [For @camsthisky's content war.]

[valiantvigilant]

Compromised [Part 2] (Dick Grayson x Reader)

hello everyone! This is Compromised Part 2! If you haven’t read Part 1, you can read it here (Hopefully this link works, if not please let me know!!) Well, I hope you enjoy! I apologize for this taking so long to be posted. I had a lot of shit going on in my life that wasn’t very good, but things are better now! I went on vacation and it really helped me relax and unwind so I could heal! Now that I’m back, I decided it was time to finish and finally post Compromised Part 2 haha! _____

Dick Grayson didn’t like waking up to an empty bed. Normally, you would be there, warming up the other half of the bed with your body heat. But, today when he rolled over and woke up, the right side of the bed was cold. He frowned and got up, his joints popping as he stretched. He looked down at his phone on the nightstand and picked it up. Unlocking it, his thumb instantly went to your contact and hovered over the call button. - You were packing your bags, Jason accompanying you. The two of you sat in the living room as you picked out what you wanted/ needed to bring. Simultaneously, you had the file on Danilo Carrera pulled up on your hologlove. “What’s this Danny guy like anyway?” Jason asked as he folded his clothes. “He is a total creep. He kept touching me and flirting with me,” you reply in disgust. “I don’t regret punching him in the face one bit. I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.” “I’m proud of you (N/N),” Jason said with a grin. You roll your eyes and smile back. You were about to say something back when Dick’s contact came up on your screen, indicating that he was calling you. You pursed your lips and decided to answer the call. “Hello?” “(Y/N)! I, uh…hi.” He began awkwardly. “I woke up and you weren’t next to me…” “Yeah, I stayed at the Manor last night,” you reply. “I figured…” There was an uncomfortable silence before he broke it again. “I h-heard that you and Jason have a flight to an island near Santa Prisca.” You raised your eyebrow at the fact that he stuttered. Dick hadn’t sounded this nervous since he first asked you out back when you were teenagers. “Yes, we do.“ “If it’s okay with you, I was wondering if I could…come say goodbye before you go.” You chewed the inside of your cheek as you took in that sentence. “Sure.” “R-Really?! I’ll be over soon!” He said hurriedly and hung up. You sighed and ran your fingers through your (h/l) (h/c) locks. “Even with the way he acted yesterday, you still give him your entire heart. Just as you do every day.” Jason comments with a side smile. You turn and look at him, giving a soft one in return. “He’s the love of my life, even if he did act like a complete asshole.“ - Dick Grayson drove anxiously to the Manor, clutching the ring tightly in his right hand. He felt so nauseous right now, his palms were sweaty and the stress was building again. He wasn’t used to this feeling, not at all. Dick was accustomed to stress, but nothing like this. He took a deep breath once he pulled up and exhaled, slipping the ring in his pocket. Alfred opened the front door, greeted him, and then told him that you were upstairs in your room. Dick thanked the kind butler and headed directly to your said location. He took another shaky breath and knocked on your door. You had just finished double checking your room to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything when there was a knock at the door. You opened it to see your boyfriend, a weak smile on his usual cheery face. You figured it was all the stress he was under. You know from personal experience that stress can throw patience, empathy, logic, and control right out the window to be forgotten. You allowed him in and shut the door with your foot, giving you two some privacy. As soon as the door shut, he instantly began spewing apologies from his mouth. ”I’m sorry,“ he croaked out pathetically. “I’m so so sorry. I ruined everything last night. The mission ended up in shambles because of me and now you and Jason have to risk your lives to go to Santa Prisca because of my mistake. I’m so sorry, please forgi-” You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck in a warm hug. Stunned by the sudden embrace, Dick wasn’t quite sure what to do at first. However, he quickly snapped out of his little trance and hugged you back, almost immediately sinking into your figure. Pulling away from him for a minute you look at his face and see the dark circles and pale features. You put a hand to his cheek and rub your thumb under his eye. “What’s up with you? You haven’t been yourself lately,“ you ask gently. All your annoyance and disappointment because of his actions, vanished as you saw his stressed state. “I’m just so…overwhelmed,” he mumbled. “Bludhaven is becoming more and more of a mess, that case is tied into that, I messed everything up, and…” his voice trails as he thinks of the circular object in his pocket. “And?” You question. He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. But, I’m just so…done (Y/N). So stressed out. It’s making me feel sick.” You ran your fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes in relief. He loved it when you did that. “You do look quite pale. Maybe you should take a little break, love.” “I can’t. I need to protect people, and be there.” “My dear, you already do so much.” You replied. “Bruce is right. You need to get yourself in check before going out into the field again. You’re emotions are all churned up. It isn’t healthy to keep going like this.” He pulled away from you, his eyebrows knitting together. “I knew you would side with him. I know, I compromised the mission. I fucked up. It won’t happen again.” You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest. “We can’t take the risk of that happening again. Not when Black Mask and now Bane are involved. It’s too unpredictable.“ “Whatever (Y/N)! It’s always been about the mission with you anyway,” he snapped. Your eyes widened and you gave him a look of hurt. “That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” You say, becoming somewhat agitated. “You are working yourself to the bone Dick, you are loosing control of your emotions left and right. This is not normal.” “Don’t tell me what I need to do and not do (Y/N)! It’s my body and my life! I’m an adult and can make my own decisions!” He growled. “Perhaps you should start acting like an adult instead of a rebellious teenager!” You yelled back. The two of you glared at each other, the stare being full of fire and anger. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. “Look, obviously you have some shit you need to deal with right now. So, it’s good that I’m going away on this mission. It’ll give you some space,” you say, calming down. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark locks. “I’m sorry (Y/N)…I just…you’re right. I do have a lot on my mind,” he mumbled. “Of course I’m right,” you tease with a wink and a grin. You took his hand and the two of you made your way to the Batcave where Jason was waiting for you along with Tim and Damian. Bruce was at work, and Alfred was upstairs making lunch. (He had wished you and Jason a safe mission while you came down.) “Well, boys,” you state. “We will see you in a few days. Hopefully.” You engulf Tim and Damian in smothering hugs, which ended up in them two arguing over who you loved to hug more (besides Dick). You chuckled at their bickering and shook your head. “Okay, well if you two dumbasses are done arguing, (Y/N) and I have to get going.” Jason cut in. “Plus we all know that she loves to hug me more!” “No way Todd! She definitely loves to hug me more than you and Drake. I am best after Grayson,” Damian said, puffing out his chest. “Pft! As if!” Tim said sarcastically. “Boys, boys. After Dick, I love you all equally!” You assure with a laugh. Looking down at your watch, you realize that your flight was going to leave soon! “Alright, I’ll see you guys soon!” You give Tim and Damian one last hug before you turned to Dick. He engulfs you in a tight squeeze, burying his face in your hair. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you too.” The two of you parted and he pulled you in for a passionate kiss (which had Tim and Damian gagging.) Dick put a hand to your face and rubbed small circles onto your cheek. You could sense the worry in his blue hues, so you gave him a gentle smile to calm them. “Don’t worry Bird Boy, I’ll come back to you in one piece,” you state with a wink. He lets out a small, nervous, laugh. “I won’t let anything happen to her,” Jason piped up. Dick and his brother locked eyes and the eldest sent a nod his way. He wanted more than anything to go on this mission with you. It’s not that he didn’t trust his brother…he just wanted to be by your side. He always was by your side, and you his. That’s just what you guys did. You were Dick and (Y/N), Nightwing and (Y/H/N). You were a team. You gave him one last kiss before you and Jason made your way to the zeta tubes. “(Y/N)! Wait!” Dick called out just before you walked in. You turned around and looked at him. “Hm?” He had the ring clenched in his fist and he opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. “Dick? Are you okay?” “I…I have something important to ask you when you get back,” he finally spoke, internally kicking himself as soon as the words left his mouth. “Oh, alright,” you reply with a crooked grin. “I’ll see you soon! I love you!” With those words, you and Jason disappeared with your bags. Dick sighed and put the ring back in his pocket, running his fingers through his hair in a stressful manner. “Grayson, you are pathetic,” Damian stated flatly. Dick whirrled around and glared at the youngest sibling. “I have to admit, the Demon is right Dick. That was just sad. Why don’t you ask her already?” Tim stated. “I don’t know! It’s just been plaguing my mind lately, and especially with last night’s mission and all the other crazy shit…I just can’t do it. I know, it’s sad and pathetic. Believe me, I’m aware.” “You better ask her soon, she is gonna find out eventually, whether you tell her or not.” Damian commented. Dick sighed once more. “I know.” - The flight to the safe island near Santa Prisca didn’t take long. (The perks of Bruce having connections got you two a faster flight.) From there, you guys took a motor boat to Santa Prisca, and the mission began. You and Jason were dressed in your hero uniforms and had placed comms in your ears before splitting up. You swiftly made your way through the thick jungle terrain and to the warehouse that Bane and Danny would most likely be in. Batman had said they received a tip that Black Mask would be here and they would finally conduct their business. You made your way to the roof of the building and wriggled into the air vents. “Red, I’m entering through the ducts. What’s your 20?“ “Garage number 3 was open because of a recent exportation of drugs which was to be shipped to…” his voice trailed. “Bludhaven, Gotham, and Metropolis. This apparently is bigger than just the Bat’s territory. I’m downloading and transferring the delivery schedule to you.” “Copy that,” you reply, pulling up the computer that was built into your hologlove. The information was downloaded and your eyes skimmed over the delivery schedule before receiving other files from Jason. An update map of the facility was one of the files, which you were grateful for. You had a lock on Jason’s location and scanned the map for a save rendezvous point. “Down the hallway, to the left of this room is a storage room. It’s right below me and it appears to have not been open for quite some time. According to its contents…in there are old vials of venom. The former formula it appears. It’s going to be sent to be destroyed two days from now,” you state. “Meet me there.” “10-4, (Y/H/N).” You quickly and quietly made your way through the vents to the room. Slipping down into the said place, you landed quietly on your feet. Jason soon entered the room as well and walked over to you. “What’s the plan (N/N)?” He asked. You pulled up the map and information of the facility so the two of you can see. “Well, there is a storage room down at the other end of the hall that contains the new Venom formula. We need a few samples of that, so Bats or Red Robin can analyze and break down. Now, down at the opposite end of the hall I’m going to go out on an educated guess and assume that this room is where Black Mask is having a meeting with Bane,” you explain. “One of us needs to get the Venom and the other needs to get evidence of this meeting,” Jason stated. “Precisely.” “You’re definitely are lighter on your feet than I am. I’ll get the samples while you eavesdrop.” “I planned on being the eavesdropper anyway, especially with your habit of always causing a scene,” you tease. You could practically sense his eye roll as he punched you playfully in the shoulder. “Alright, I’ll catch up with you soon.” “Stay safe, Red.” He sent a nod your way as the two of you exited the room in silence, going your separate ways once more. You followed the map until you were outside the room in which the meeting between Bane and Black Mask was supposedly being held. You looked around and found an air vent and wormed your way into the ventilation systems like before. You pulled up the computer on your hologlove, quickly hacking and disabling the motion and heat sensors. You smirked and crawled to where a vent was in the back corner of the room. You could hear the voices of Bane and another man speaking in Spanish. “That girl really did a number on your face, eh, Danny?” Bane said in his native tongue. “That bitch will pay, next time I go to Gotham I’ll hunt her down,” the voice of Danilo Carrera replied, tone full of spite. You held back a chuckle as you remember how you broke his nose. “You don’t even know her name,” Bane continued. “I wish I did…she asked a lot of questions. She was beautiful though, too bad she has a husband. God, the things I would do to her.” You scowled at his words, your face crunching up in disgust. “Focus, Mask is supposed to be here any minute now.” You silently pried open the vent and placed a small camera in the corner of the wall. You closed the vent and linked your hologlove to the camera. On the screen came a clear view of the room. You snickered internally as you saw Danny’s nose all taped up. A few minutes passed before Black Mask finally entered the room, two of his assistants following, a female and a male. “Gentlemen, it’s nice to finally be able to discuss things in person. Our last meeting was unfortunately interrupted, I apologize,” Black Mask stated as he took a seat at the table across from Bane and Danny. “Some bitch and her husband caused a scene,” Danny said in an annoyed tone. “Yes, my men are working on trying to track them down.” “If you find the girl, I want to get my revenge,” Danny mumbled. “That isn’t the objective here,” Bane hissed in Spanish. He turned back to Mask. “Ignore him, we came here to talk about business. Not some girl who happened to get a good punch on him.” “I completely understand his desire for revenge. If we find her, she is all yours.” Danny’s lip curled up into a sinister grin. “Anyways, back to business like you stated. You have shipments of your new Venom formula ready for Bludhaven, Gotham and Metropolis, correct?“ “Yes, the shipments should arrive by morning.” “Excellent. Once in Gotham my people can do a little experimenting with it with some of the drugs, chemicals and technology we have. If all goes smoothly, more supplies and things will be sent for you to make more, as long as I get fifty percent of the profit you make from this new formula.” “Fifty percent?!” “I think fifty percent is a sufficient cut for me, considering I’m now your number on supplier for things so you can make your Venom,” Mask said cunningly. Bane grit his teeth in annoyance, then took a deep breath. “You drive a hard bargain Señor,” Bane said, clearly annoyed. “You have a deal.” Mask smiled wickedly and the two shook hands. He opened his mouth to say something more when a huge rumble shook the building, almost knocking you over. Thankfully you didn’t, or you would’ve fallen through the loose vent. “What the hell was that?!” A man burst into the room and spoke in rapid Spanish, too fast for you to translate. Bane cursed as he heard whatever the man said. You pressed your finger to your comm. “Red, what’s your ETA to the storage room.” You question. “Busy. Can’t talk.” He grunted back, the sounds of fighting in the back ground. Shit. Jason must’ve caused that explosion and blew his cover. He really does enjoy causing a scene…although I was considering blowing up that shipment of Venom before it left for the States…perhaps he beat me to it. We need to get rid of the rest of it though. At least what they have already made would be destroyed until we need to analysis on it. You thought. You helplessly sat there, monitoring Jason’s location from your hologlove. Unable to do anything, for it would blow your cover as well, you tried thinking of ways to get out of here. You had gotten all the Intel you needed to confirm Mask’s and Danny’s relations with Bane, and you had gotten several files from them. You hoped, Jason got the samples. The door to the room slammed open and you saw through your camera, Jason being dragged in by three men, seven or eight others following. He was tied up with rope and was bleeding from several areas. He looked up at Bane from behind his red helmet and you could tell a sneer was on his face. “Ah. One of the Bats Birds, came to visit my island.” “Uh…sir…the shipment headed to leave tonight was destroyed..” one of the men said awkwardly. “What?!” Bane roared. The man when to repeat himself but Bane punched him in the gut, sending him to his knees. “You’ll pay for this Red Hood,” the Santa Priscan man snarled. Jason chuckled, wincing slightly. “Looks like your little drug plan got delayed. How unfortunate,” Jason said sarcastically. “Mr. Hood, you always seem to have a way of fucking things up!” Mask yelled slamming his hands on the table. Jason laughed again. “Oh, I know.” Mask walked over and kicked him in the head and stomach. He saw a large wound on his chest and knelt down, sticking his finger in it. Jason let out a small cry of pain. “These men can have a go at you, but once their done, my partner and I will make sure you aren’t here to fuck things up ever again.” Your eyes widened at this as your mind raced for a plan. Suddenly, an idea popped into your mind. You went to your hologlove and gained access to the systems again. You swiftly shut down the power in ths building and set it to come back on in about a minute. Lifting the vent silently, you began your plan as the lights went out. “What the hell?! What now?!” Mask said angrily. You grabbed your camera on the way down from your hiding place and ran over, starting to take down each of the men easily. Reminder to thank Bats for the teachings on the ‘Element of Surprise’ and the nightvision upgrades in my mask, you thought to yourself as you took out the last man. Bane and Mask stood in the dark, confused on what was going on. You had about twenty seconds before the lights came back on so you untied Jason and started to pull him along. “He is escaping!” Mask yelled. “Not off my island he isn’t!” You shoved Jason through the door and just as you were about to go, the lights flicked back on. You turned around and saw Bane with a small knife in his hand. Before you could process, he threw it and it stuck right in your shoulder. You let out a scream of pain, and Jason grabbed your hand, pulling you through the door way. The two of you ran, twisting and turning down hallways. “Are you okay?” You ask, panting because of the pain and adrenaline. “Just a scratch,” Jason replied, clearly lying. “You?” “Just a scratch,” you state with a smirk, gesturing to the knife in your shoulder as you reached over and yanked it out. “Looks like Bane is getting interested in toys that are a bit more lowkey,” you muttered as you put the small knife in your utility belt. “We need to get out of here.” “No shit Sherlock!” “No, we really need to get out here. Possibly within the next three minutes and…twenty five seconds.” Your eyes widen. “Did you do what I think you did?” “If what your thinking is ‘plant a bomb that destroys the rest of the new Venom except the ten vials I have in my utility belt,’ then yes.” You smirked again, letting out a laugh. “Funny, I was thinking of doing the same thing.” “Perfect. Batman isn’t gonna be happy when we get back, is he?” “Probably not. So much for strictly recon.” “We never listen to that rule anyway.” You looked behind Jason and yourself and saw men, and Bane running after you. More of them burst out of rooms, guns in hands and they started to shoot. “Things are getting hot in here (Y/H/N), any ideas on how the hell we are gonna get out of here?!” “Down this hall, make a left then a right. It was your entry point. From there we can run into the jungle and head to the motor boat,“ you state. “Slight problem. My entry point was destroyed.” “That’s our only option. Everywhere else we will for sure be cut off and put in the blast considering the rest of the Venom is near by where we need to exit.” You state as the two of you follow your directions. Garage number 3 was no longer there, just as he said. Flames were everywhere from the explosion and debris were mangled and jagged. You two continue to run, although slower because of your wounds and the fire. “We aren’t gonna make it past the blast zone in time (N/N)!” “Just keep running!” Fire and smoke swirled around you, bullets whizzing past your ears due to the terrible aim of Bane’s men (which you were thankful for.) You two made it to edge of the jungle before a searing hot force slammed you forward. Your body was flung and impacted the ground in a harsh manner. Rocks and sticks scraped you and your body screamed in pain. You looked around, everything was fuzzy and chaotic, your vision was blurry and you couldn’t find Jason. Screams of people could be heard behind you, though it was muffled due to the ringing in your ears. You stumbled and tried to get to your feet, but no avail. The blood loss was finally taking it’s toll and you collapsed on the ground. Looking up to the sky, the last thing you saw were the stars before darkness enveloped it’s blanket around you. - The last thing you expected to happen after this mission, was for you to wake up in a hospital bed in the Batcave. Although, you weren’t all that surpised, considering the events that took place. However, let’s just say, the light stung your eyes when you woke up and you were not happy about that. You cracked your eyes open and saw the white popcorn ceiling. You squinted and sat up, wincing slightly as you looked around. The heart monitor next you beeped and you looked down at your arm and saw an IV sticking out of it. Then it all came back to you. The mission. The explosion. The flames and the knife wound in your shoulder. Saw your uniform ripped and cut in certain places so you could be bandaged. You looked to your right and saw your beloved boyfriend asleep in a chair. Your eyes softened at his exhausted looking state. Behind him was a cloth curtain and you felt curiosity well up inside you. You bit your lip to prevent from wincing loudly as you slowly slipped out of the bed. Taking the IV with you, you looked at yourself in the mirror that was in the room. Your shoulder was bandaged up as well as your head. There was a bruise on your cheek and a few stitches under your right eye. That’s definitely gonna scar, you thought. You walked over to the curtain, peeked your head in, and saw Jason laying there. He was bandaged up as well, an IV in his arm too. He looked up from the book he was reading and his eyes filled with relief. “Thank God you’re awake. I was sure Golden Boy was gonna have a heart attack.” He said sitting up more. You took a seat on the chair beside his bed. “What the hell happened? How did we get here?” You questioned. “After the explosion, I, in my partially conscious state, was able to get the two of us to the motor boat and on to open water. I was able to send a distress signal to the Bat Computer and here we are,“ Jason explained. “Does this mean I owe you one?” You ask. “Maybe. But, I’m glad you’re alright. Dick almost had my head on a platter because the Alfred thought you might not make it…you were unconscious for four days.” “Damn…” You murmured. “Well, I’m okay. I’ll make sure he doesn’t try to kick your ass.“ The two of you exchange smiled before you walked back to your bed. You look at Dick, a soft smile going on your face as you brush a few stray hairs from his. You take the spare blanket from the foot of the bed and drape it over his shoulders. When Dick had gotten the call that you were seriously injured, he had been in your shared apartment in Bludhaven. The call made shivers run down his spine and he dashed into the bathroom to vomit. The thought of you possibly dying made him sick and all the stress and worry he had been feeling came crashing down on him. On the morning of the fifth day of your (lucky) recovery, he felt his heart jump into his throat when Alfred had came up to his room to tell him you were awake. The raven haired boy didn’t hesitate to make a run for the Batcave. And there you were, doing some basic yoga stretches as some light ‘training.’ Your shoulder hurt like a bitch, and your torso was all bruised and cut up, but you did what you could to get up and get your blood flowing. You never did like to sit around, even when not injured. He made his way down the stairs and you turned around, hearing his footsteps. Before you could open your mouth and say anything, he wrapped his arms around your frame and held you to his chest. His eyes filled with tears of relief, and he couldn’t help but let them fall. You felt him tremble as you hugged him back, his tears hit your neck and you felt pangs of guilt and empathy. You rubbed his back lovingly, and pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands. Wiping the tears from his cheeks, you gave him a warm smile. “I told you I would come back to you in one piece,” you stated. He let out a laugh and sob mixed together, his glossy blue eyes staring into your shimmering (e/c) orbs. “I love you,” he chokes out. “I love you too.” “I told you I had something to ask you once you came back.” “Yes, you did. What is it, my love?” You ask zealously. He took a deep breath, getting himself together. “I love you. I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. You are the most beautiful girl, in the whole world and I…I want to spend the rest of my life with you.“ He gets down on one knee and holds the glimmering ring out to you. Tears instantly fill your eyes as his continue to do so. ”(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?“ A smile broke out on your face, one that was wider and brighter than the sun. “Yes! Always, yes!” ______ I apologize for the ending being so…eh. Ugh I’m sorry.

[secondgenerationnerd]

I’m here

Author’s note: Welp. This happened. I loved writing Damian with his daughter in the last fic, so here’s another one featuring his brothers! Not much else to say. Enjoy!!!!

         As rain pounds against the apartment windows, Damian finds himself stupid with numbers. Quarterly reports are worse that ninjas. Worse than zombies. Worse than his mother…Ok they aren’t that bad, but they’re pretty damn close. He rubs his face in frustration. He needs a break…

         There’s a sharp knock at the door. Damian frowns. Who the hell would be at his doorstep at 12:23 am? Damian is silent as he moves to the hall closet. From behind a locked, false wall, he pulls out his katana. He checks the peephole before letting out a groan. Of fucking course. Sheathing the sword, he opens the door,” What the hell are you doing here?”

         “Good to see you too, baby brother,” Jason ruffles Damian’s hair.

         “Todd, I’m 24 goddamn years old. I am not your baby brother,” Damian scowls.

         “You’ll always be our baby brother,” Dick teases. Tim lets out a snort.

         “Why are you here?” Damian asks.

         “Bruce said we should check on you.”

         “Father suggested you three dumbasses come check on me? Why?”

         “Well, Irey’s on that mission and you hate quarterly reports. So, as your big brothers, we come bearing pizza and booze.” Jason hold up a bottle of whiskey and two large pizzas.

         Damian hesitates. He could use the company, even theirs, and the pizza smells amazing. But he’s also aware of Asha sleeping down the hall…

         “You can stay, but wake up my daughter and I skin you alive,” Tim is already getting plates and glasses. The four brothers dig into the pizza. Damian rolls his eyes at the meat lover’s pizza Jason got,” Todd, I know you aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, so allow me to say this slowly. I. Am. A. Vegetarian.”

         “You are. We aren’t,” Jason grunts,” So how’s Daddyhood? You miss mommy?”

         “It’s been good. Asha’s almost potty trained. She and I went to the park the other day. She wanted to see the ducks.” Damian smiles at the memory. His beautiful little girl had held his hand, insisting she walk ‘ba ma selp’ as she put it. Asha had thrown an entire bag of duck feed into the pond, one tiny hand full at a time,” And of course I miss my wife, Todd.”

         “Things I never expected to hear ‘The Heir to the League of Assassins and the Cowl of Batman’ to say: My wife, almost potty trained, I took my daughter to the ducks.” Damian throws a pillow at Tim.

         “Asha still running around like a looney toon?” Dick asks.

         Damian chuckles,” Of course. She is her mother’s daughter. How’s Mar’i?”

         “Busy. We haven’t really talked much the last few weeks.” Dick doesn’t say more. Mar’i has been on Tamaran, for the first time since she was a child, trying to figure out who would rule once she came back to Earth. The brothers talk about recent villains and old missions. Damian would be lying if he said this wasn’t enjoyable. The storm outside rages on, temporarily forgotten by the four brothers. A loud BOOM of thunder and crack of lightning makes the building shake.

         “BABA!” A high-pitched voice shrieks. Damian’s already down the hall by the time the others have registered their niece’s terrified voice. Quick to follow, Dick, Tim, and Jason run to Asha’s room.

         “Shhhhh, you’re ok, lightning bug. Baba’s here. I’m here,” Damian holds his crying daughter, rubbing her back,” It was just the storm.”

         “Scawy. Woud.” Asha cries.

         “I know, I know,” Damian walks around the room, speaking softly.

         It always confuses his brother to see how kind and gentle Damian can be. They know he’s changed since he came to live with them, but it’s still strange to remember the little boy he was. Asha’s sobs fade to soft hiccups. Damian coos to her in Arabic, pressing soft kisses to her dark hair.

         At 18 months old, Asha West-Wayne is already a beauty. She has dark chocolate curls and big green eyes. A tiny button nose and beautiful smile. Warm caramel skin with freckles if you get close enough. She clings to her father, cheek pressed to his shoulder.

         “Do you wanna come sit with Baba? Huh, lightning bug?” Damian asks. Asha nods. Damian waves his brothers away to the living room. After changing Asha’s night diaper, he joins them. Asha looks at her uncles, then buries her face into Damian’s shoulder.

         “Why are you being shy, pretty girl?” Jason asks, tickling the bottom of her foot as they pass. Asha kicks him.

         “No,” She pouts.

         “How did you already manage to turn your kid against me, Wayne?” Jason’s slightly annoyed. Usually, for whatever reason, kids loved him.

         “Who said I did anything,” Damian laughs. He moves around the kitchen, expertly making a bottle of warm milk with one hand. He speaks warmly to Asha,” Wanna show your uncles your new words? Baba.”

         “Baba.”

         “Loves.”

         “Wubs.”

         “Asha.”

         “Asha.” Asha looks a little pleased with herself. They even see her smile a little when Damian kisses her cheek. Damian carries her over towards the couch, bottle in hand.

         “Here we go, my love. Let’s sit down, ok?” Damian stretches out on the love seat, Asha laying on his chest, holding her bottle all by herself. Damian smiles down at her. They’ve never seen Damian so happy or so at peace than with his daughter.

         “Ok, so you aren’t a crap father,” Jason grunts. Damian rolls his eyes. He absentmindly plays with Asha’s curls. The little girl’s long, thick lashes start to slide shut when another crack of lightning startles her.

         “Baba!” Asha buries her face in his shirt.

         “It’s ok. It’s just Mama.” Damian soothes her,” That’s the sound Mama makes when she runs, remember?”

         “Mama no hewe,” Asha tells him.

         “You’re right. Mama isn’t here. She’s saving the world. But every time you see lightning? That’s Mama running to check on you. And the thunder that follows? Mama’s saying hi,” Damian holds the toddler close, rubbing small circles on her back. At the next crack of lightning, he says,” Hi, Mama.”

         “Hi, Mama,” Asha parrots. Each time, without hesitation, Damian says the words and Asha repeats them. She falls asleep in her father’s arms not long after that. Damian doesn’t bother getting up. He’s happy just like this.

         “Ok, you’re a great father, you little shit,” Jason admits begrudgingly. Damian smiles at this.

         “Thanks,” Damian adjust Asha a little so he can cover them with a blanket. His face grows somber,” I don’t want her to grow up the way I did.”

         “Dami- “

         “I mean it, Grayson.” Damian looks at them,” I don’t want my daughter worrying about legacies. I don’t want her thinking she has to work herself to the point of exhaustion to be worthy of my attention. I don’t want her growing up thinking love is only for the weak and stupid. I don’t want her to think her worth is defined by her accomplishments.”

         “She won’t- “

         “I won’t let my daughter grow up thinking love has conditions,” Damian looks down at her,” she deserves more than that. She deserves everything.”

         His brothers aren’t sure what to say. They’ve never heard him speak this passionately about anything. But the fierce look of love he gives his daughter says more than his words.

         “You know you can’t be better than us at everything,” Tim informs him, trying to break the tension.

         “Stop making it easy for me than.” Damian’s tired. They can all tell. Dick gives the other two a look. Jason grabs the booze and left-over pizza.

         “We’ll see you tomorrow, Dami.” Dick tells him. They all give their little brother a wave before leaving. The door slams behind them, waking Asha a bit.

         “Baba?”

         “Shhhhh, go to sleep, lightning bug.” Damian knows he isn’t going to make it to bed. He doesn’t mind. It’s Saturday. No work. He can spend all day with one of his favorite girls if he wants

         “Asha.”  She’s half awake, but he still understands her,” Asha wubs Baba.”

         Damian smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head,” and Baba loves Asha.”

         With that, Damian falls into a dreamless sleep. How could one have nightmares with a daughter like his?

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar” 2/3 - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary : The Joker kidnapped you over a week ago, and your family is starting to really panic. Chapter 2/3. 

Warnings : Violence, because we’re talking about the Joker here...Hope you’ll enjoy it as much as the first part ! Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :).

FINISHED SERIES : PART 1, PART 3 

my master list blog :  @ella-ravenwood-archives

______________________________________________________________________

A few hours after your capture, you finally met him. For real. And it was the most terrifying thing you ever lived. 

A wall opened up on the side of the bedroom, and Harley Quinn entered first. Her face was swollen, all sort of shades of blues and purple. Some green around the chin. Black around the eyes.  And behind her followed the clown. 

He pushed the ex-shrink out of his way brutally, and she tripped and fall with a loud thud. He didn’t pay attention to her at all, circling around you like a shark. 

You held your breath in, he was getting closer. 

Harley was still on the floor, not moving, and though she was crazy and tried to kill your husband multiple times, you couldn’t help but feel pity for her. You knew she genuinely had a mental disorder, she wasn’t a complete psycho, a wild dog with rabies like the Joker. You knew she was helplessly in love with the clown, and in return, he was nothing but abusive...You just felt so sorry for her. 

But only for a few seconds, because now, the Joker was so close to you that you could feel his breath on your face...

-Hello there. 

His voice wasn’t pleasant. At all. Bruce’s voice was gentle, deep and low, you would give anything to hear it now...But all you heard was his nasal and irritating voice. 

You didn’t say anything. His eyes narrowed. 

-A polite and distinguish woman like you should greet me in return. 

You stayed silent. He smiled, and it made you shiver. 

-Oh, that’s sexy. You shiver at the mere sight of me. I knew we’d quickly get along. 

You made a face of disgust at his misinterpretation, to make sure he understood that no, you didn’t shiver because he aroused you, but because he freaked the Hell out of you. But apparently, according to the Joker, a grimace of disgust was the equivalent of a love declaration, as his lips suddenly crashed on yours. 

You were so stunned, that you didn't react at all when he planted a bruising kiss on your lips, his tongue trying to enter your mouth, his teeth biting ruthlessly your bottom lip...But you quickly regain your senses, and bit him, hard, as a reflex. 

He swore, in pain, taking a few steps back from you...and then he just laughed. Laughed, laughed and laughed, and you felt tears welled up in your eyes, more scared than you ever been. 

-I like a woman with character !! Oooh we’re gonna have fun (Y/N), so much fun ! I’m going to...What is that ? Are you cheating on me ?

He was showing the love bites Bruce left on your neck the night before. 

You shuddered, understanding Harley’s words. “You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar”...Somehow, somewhere in his deranged mind, the Joker had decided that you were his. That you and him were “an item”. It froze your blood. Oh my God....

For years you heard stories of that damn clown going on around Gotham. Everyone talked about him as if he was the Boogeyman himself. No. As if he was worst than the Boogeyman. Worst than the Devil. And he was the only one that Bruce always refused to speak about...Which was saying a lot. There were urban legend that kids told each other around a camp fire, about The Joker coming in the darkest of night, to take them away, drag them with him to whatever Hell he lived in... 

This time, he came for you. And given the effort he put in recreating the bedroom you had back at the mansion, you couldn’t help but think he carefully planned everything, and that you’d never get found...You felt like even your Batman couldn’t do anything this time. 

-No one, NO ONE, abuse my trust and get out of it without a scratch. Ooooh (Y/N), you shouldn’t have done that. We’re gonna have fun, so much fun. Well, at least, I will. I promise. I’ll try and make it enjoyable for you though...

And on those words, he grabbed your hair harshly, pulled on them with force tilting your head back, kissed you again (you wanted to vomit)...and slowly took a sharp and dirty knife up to one of the love bites. 

You held your screams in as the craziest and most psychotic man in Gotham City started to cut out your skin, carefully making sure that no trace from Bruce’s love remained on your body. No trace at all.

************

Bruce was going crazy. A week. It had been a fucking week since your kidnapping. And he had absolutely no lead. Not a single clue. 

For seven days, he desperately roamed the city every night, looking for any intels, brutalizing and plain torturing dozens and dozens of people that might have an idea of where the Joker went...But they all had the exact same answer : 

-There’s nothing you can do to us, that he won’t do, but ten times worst. Hit us all you want Batsy, even if we knew where he was, which we don’t, we wouldn’t say anything. Because your treatment is better than what he’d do to us.

Gotham’s hospitals were overcrowded with low life criminals and other nut jobs. 

Your children were as panicked and desperate as their father, and none of them had much sleep since you were taken. Dick had to carry Damian back home today, as the boy fell asleep, unable to stop himself. 

Alfred forced them to get some rest, and after a lot of yelling and anger, they were just too exhausted to argue anymore, and they all fell asleep in the bat cave. Damian was curled up next to the bat cow, Tim was asleep on his computer’s keyboard, Dick and Jason were back to back, arms crossed, done resisting sleep. 

But there was one Alfred couldn’t convince, or tire out...Bruce. He was determined to have no rest until you were safe. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t bear it...He couldn’t even bear the mere thought of loosing you. So he kept going, fighting his exhaustion fiercely. 

If you died, he would never be whole again. 

***************

You resisted for them. You were strong for them. 

Only the thought of your husband, of your children, and of the butler you came to call “dad” kept you alive. 

Harley never came back in your cell, but the Joker was there almost every hour of the day. You could feel his touch lingering on your body when he wasn’t. 

If you counted it right, it had been a week. A week of abuse of all sort. A week of trying to get out. A week, getting weaker each minutes. A week, and your Bruce still wasn’t there...For the first time in your life, you started to think he really wasn’t coming. Your heart faltered...

The door in the wall opened, and you raised your head with pride. Your eyes full of hatred met his crazed ones. 

-Oh my oh my oh my. Always so...full of dignity. I like it. Now (Y/N), what shall I do with you today ? 

*******************

It was Damian who found her. He was patrolling around the city weakly, the thought of his mother between this maniac’s hand refusing to leave his mind, when his path crossed hers. 

Harley Quinn. 

She looked pathetic. More than usual. When she saw him, she didn’t even try to run away or anything. On the contrary. 

-Robin. Ooooh Robin. Take me to the Batman, I have informations. Important informations. About Bruce Wayne’s wife. 

*********************

It took everything in Bruce not to punch the woman as she came in. Just because she was with the Joker the night they took you away from him, he wanted to punch her. He often felt irrational emotions when it came to you...jealousy over someone who had no chance with you, anger over people who disrespected you...Genuine murderous thoughts toward the one who helped your kidnapping, and was standing in front of him as if she was the most innocent woman in the world. But he didn’t hurt her in any way, he knew it wasn’t totally her fault. She was sick. 

It took everything in Dick too. And in Tim. And Jason. For the same reason. 

When he saw her, Damian hadn’t been able to resist...And Harley had a fresh black eye. He tried to make her talk about his mother’s location, making her understand he would go to any ends to find her...but she refused to say anything if it wasn’t to the bat himself. 

He covered her eyes, and took her to the bat cave. 

Bruce didn’t even let her time to adjust to the bright lights around her. 

-Where is she ? 

Harley didn’t answer. Dick, with a voice full of anger that didn’t resemble him at all, said : 

-Answer us Quinn, where is she ?! Is she alright ?! 

Tim, usually very calm and collected, just like Bruce, grabbed her by the collar and was about to become violent when...

-Wowza. Calm down boys. Do you think I’d willingly follow Batsy Jr over there if I didn’t wanna talk ? 

-How can we trust you though ? 

Jason raised a good point, that in the heat of the action, the others didn’t even think about. 

-Oh you can trust me alright. Ok, I’m a pathologic liar and the voices in  my head tell me to shut up and take you in the wrong direction and stuffs, but...really, you can truuuuust me. 

Alfred, bless him for always being the voice of reason and having the good ideas, went to take a lying detector from the accessories’ cabinet. Bruce thanked him, and shook his head to take his worries, anger and fears out of his mind. He had to regain his composure, he had to calm himself down, or he could miss an important clue. He couldn’t let his judgement be clouded, your life was at stake. 

Hooked on the machine, Harley started to talk. And not a lie came out of her mouth. She wasn’t like the Joker, she wasn’t able to control her emotions, so if she actually was lying, they would have known. 

-I came here to tell you. I miss my Mister J. He hasn’t touched me once, not even to hit me since she’s there...He didn’t even notice my absence. So...Here I am. I’m going to tell you.

They were waiting, shifting around impatiently. 

-First, she’s alive, not quite alright though haha.

It didn’t make them laugh, quite the contrary, and Harley gulped loudly. 

-She’s...Not in the best shape. But alive. I’ll show you where. 

-Tell us. 

-No, I’ll show you. 

-You really think we’re gonna fall for that ?

-You do, or you won’t see her ever again. Believe me. And from my understanding, she’s not just Bruce Wayne’s precious little pet. 

-She’s not a pet !! I’ll kill y...

-Robin, contain yourself ! 

His father’s strict and calm voice took Damian back to reality. The Batman turned to the Joker’s ex-girlfriend : 

-Alright Harley, we’ll follow you. But if you try to pull any of your...

-I won’t. If there’s one time in your life you can trust me Batsy, it’s now. I want my Mister J’s back, and I won’t until that woman’s out of his life. So now, untie me, get me out of your man cave, and follow me. Because I know where she is, and I’m not sure she has much time left, Mister J tends to get bored easily with his obsessions...

****************

In a cell that looked exactly like the bedroom you shared with Bruce, you were laying in the same king sized bed you had home. But it wasn’t home, it was Hell...The bogeyman took you there. No, worst than the bogeyman. The Joker. And you weren’t sure you could take it for much longer... 

To Be Continued, final and last part up some time next week :D. 

[renaroo]

The Directive

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Canon-typical violence & language Pairings: BabsDinah, CassBrenda Rating: T Prompt: ( @shobogan​ ) Answered! Though if I want to get more specific, @renaroo pls write me an epic cross-generational adventure featuring at least four Batgirls in which Dinah and Babs are married, Cass saves Brenda through time travel shenanigans, and Steph mentors Nell.

A/N: This one TOTALLY got ahead of me but I now adore this universe and would love to expand upon it more someday bc SAGE YOU HAVE SUCH GOOD IDEAS and I’m here to serve. 

Bruce’s death struck something in her that Barbara was not aware could be shook anymore. 

Not after she had been in the line of work she was for so long. 

The dismantled Birds of Prey, the death of the Batman, the flight of so many new and impressive Bats in Gotham that she barely knew what to make of it all. 

She was, loathed as she was to admit it, loathed as she was to allow it to hurt her any further, emotionally compromised. 

Barbara needed to pull in rank. She needed help. 

She needed to protect her legacy. Because legacy -- Bruce was right in that regard -- legacy was all they truly left behind. 

Dinah opened the door. She was at least ten minutes earlier than Barbara had assumed she would have been, even using the JLA transporters. Barbara should have known she would have been -- should have known Dinah. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dinah said, coming to Barbara’s side. “I know I’m part of the Network, I know that I’m supposed to be out there helping the chaos, but... But I had to make sure you were okay first. God, Babs, I remembered the gang wars and what happened to you and the watchtower and--”

Barbara wrapped her arms around Dinah’s neck, breathed in her hair. It had been too long -- they had let themselves be apart too long. 

“I need help, will you help me?” she asked Dinah without warning.

“You know I will, Barbara,” Dinah responded without hesitation, her own arms wrapping around Barbara’s shoulders. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“I need you,” Babs said, tears streaming down her face. She pulled back enough to look Dinah in the face, to cup Dinah’s chin in her hands. “I’ve made more mistakes in my life than I would ever admit, Dinah. But the biggest was letting you walk away -- not from the team. From me. From us. And I need you. God, I need you.”

Dinah’s hands tenderly found Barbara’s face, thumbs brushing away the tears. “You have me. You’ve always had me.”

It was mourning, it was emotionally compromised, it was human, and it was one of the people in her life who made her the most human that Barbara kissed that night, that she proposed a new life with that night. 

Of course, there was her other proposal as well. 

She was surprised when she learned that Cassandra was building her own Network, almost a rival to what Barbara had already established. Perhaps, more surprised than she should have been. 

Cassandra had earned her stubborn streak from Barbara herself. 

Alfred walked down to the cave alongside Barbara for most of the way, but he had many things to attend to -- official Wayne family business, dealing with Tim’s injuries, coaxing Dick, managing that Damian child that Barbara only knew in passing. 

If there was anyone in the world Barbara may have trusted Cassandra’s well being with after she lost the one man she saw as a father after what Cain had done to her, it was Alfred. 

But it wasn’t about what other people could do for Cass.

It was about what Barbara should have been doing from the beginning. 

“Cass,” Barbara announced herself, though she knew Cass had heard her come in and made a point of not turning away from the multiple computer screens before her. 

That was most certainly a pointed gesture. Just as it was a pointed gesture that Cass was refusing to remove her full face mask. 

“Helena wants to send her thanks for helping at the harbor,” Barbara continued. 

“Okay,” Cass answered, using the cursor to click on the Huntress’ file on the screen. 

Barbara stared at Batgirl’s back and wondered why she had let things get to that point to begin with. 

“That’s not the only reason I came,” Barbara continued lowly. “I came to check on you. Because I’m worried about you. You were... fairly ruthless out there tonight. That’s not like you.”

Cassandra might have been one of the most powerful fighters Barbara had ever met, but she was marked by her gentleness, by never taking things a step too far. 

That was not the Batgirl who had been on the streets that night. 

“Have you let yourself cry yet?” Barbara asked. “Have you let yourself... Are you taking care of yourself?”

At that, Cassandra quickly spun her chair to face Barbara. She was still using the full facemask as a shield, a barrier between them. 

That had never been its purpose before, but Cass had grown to hide behind it. She must have gotten that from Bruce. 

“Why do you care?” she demanded bluntly. “Why are you... here!?”

There were many answers that Barbara could have given, but she was only interested in giving the truth. She pushed her chair forward, closer to her former protege, to her friend, to her... 

“I’m here for you,” Barbara said, her own tears welling. “I’m here because I love you, and I’ve not done enough to show the people I love that I love them. And now one of them is gone and he’ll never hear directly from me what he meant to me. And I regret it. I regret that I have to trust that he could see it in the woman I grew up to become thanks to him. I hate that I drove you away so that you don’t even have that from me.”

There was silence, and then, reluctantly, Cassandra reached up and pulled off her mask.

Her hair was a mess -- sweaty and sticking up at all ends. Choppy, like she had cut it herself recently to fit better in her mask. It was something that Barbara used to do for her back in the day. Her face was wet, which was a testament to the flow of her tears since the mask was at least partially absorbent. 

But the real testament to Cassandra’s pain was in her eyes. The red rimmed, the bloodshot, the sniffing nose. 

“He was my... my dad,” Cass said, reaching into one of the front pouches of her belt and producing a crumpled sheet of paper despite the shaking of her whole body. “He... This says it. My-my copy.” She then buried her face in her hands. “Still can’t-can’t read all-all words. St-still so... so du--”

“Shh,” Barbara cut her off, moving fast to rush forward and catch the crumbling girl, let Cassandra become a puddle in her lap. Barbara rested her chin on Cass’ head and slowly rubbed circles on her back. “Shh, never say that. Never say that.” She squeezed her own eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Cass. I’m so, so sorry, Cass. I can’t go on without us being okay again. I can’t let yo go on not knowing how much I love you. Do you hear me? I love you, and I’m sorry you didn’t know.”

“I love you, too, B-Barbara,” Cass hiccuped into Barbara’s shoulder. “Love you, too. C-Can’t make... can’t make Network -- can’t make legacy without you.”

“Neither can I, Cass,” Barbara assured her in soothing whispers. “We’ll do it together. Just like we always should have.”

Helena stood in the Cave. It was the first time she had been there, aware of what home it rested beneath, given the so-called honor of being a guest in its halls. 

“Is this a guilt thing?” she asked Barbara and Dick as they walked her from the carport toward what seemed to be a hall of encased costumes. “Because I don’t really feel like honoring someone’s complex today.”

She would have much rather spent her Saturday sleeping in. She had spent every night and almost every day working on keeping Gotham safe in the aftermath of-- well...

There was a look that passed between Dick and Babs, the kind that read volumes between friends who had known each other a long time.

“Wouldn’t know,” Dick finally answered with a shrug. “It’s part of his will.”

Helena didn’t have to ask whose. Didn’t want to even if she hadn’t known. 

“Here we go,” Barbara explained, waving to the case she had stopped in front of. 

For a moment, Helena didn’t get it, but then her eyes drifted to the suit. The emblem. The shape of the mannequin which wore it. Her look hardened and then she glanced from side to side -- they were in a lane of Batman suits. Those worn by Bruce over the years, some that were worn by his temporary replacements. 

And in the middle was the one she had made herself what felt like so many years ago. 

Not the one repurposed for Batgirl. 

Hers. 

The one she wore when Batman disappeared at the beginning of Gotham’s No Man’s Land asylum. When she was the only Batman to be found. 

Without thinking it through, her hand came up and she touched the glass. She wasn’t sure what the feeling was in her chest -- but it was pride and it was hurt. 

Turning back, Helena looked directly to Barbara first and foremost. “What is this?”

“Rebuilding a legacy,” Barbara answered. “And making sure all the right people are honored for it -- are still a part of it if they choose to be.”

Helena remained unmoving, waiting for more to be revealed. 

“Bruce left in his will that he didn’t want me to be Batman, that it could die with him,” Dick explained, arms crossed. “But those of us who have taken up for him in his absence before know that can’t be true. Batman and Robin can never die. So I’m ready to bear that responsibility... but to do it my own way. And to ask, respectfully, of all the previous mantle holders before me if I can have their permission to do so.”

Taking a breath, Helena tried to keep her head on straight. “I... Well, I think the record shows that I was always about defying Bruce when it came to style points,” she replied. She then looked to Barbara. Looked to her friend. Because there was more to the puzzle, still. “What are we doing here?” she asked, figuring her response was more than enough to give Dick whatever permission he was looking for. 

“Dick’s methods are going to put him in the city more, he wants to utilize the resources Bruce had stockpiled there,” Barbara answered, folding her arms before her chin. “It’d be a waste for something as technologically lavish and as important to all of our histories as the Batcave itself to go to waste.”

Helena’s smile grew. “You’re going to give me more toys from this collection, aren’t you?”

“You do like toys,” Babs replied wryly. “Also... I’d like to take the opportunity to let you know that Dinah and I are engaged.”

“That,” Helena responded with a wave of her hand,”is by far the least surprising news of this night.”

The wedding was not a wedding. It was a union.

Barbara’s dad, Helena, Cassandra, Charlie, Sin, Lian, and Roy were there. Dick texted them congratulations near immediately, but what with the move, the cowl, and the newly orphaned Wayne, he had difficulties of his own getting to the courthouse. 

It took a lot of tough upper lip for Barbara to not take it personally that Tim didn’t come. But she knew he was suffering in ways the rest of them could only imagine. 

Their honeymoon was not a honeymoon, it was a recruitment drive with Zinda at the proverbial and literal wheel. 

She handed her assignments to Helena, Cass, and Charlie as they left. Dinah put them in charge of watching Sin. And then behind their backs made sure that Sin understood she was in charge of watching the three of them. 

“I saw your list,” Dinah said in the middle of kissing every inch of Barbara. “You know that Cassandra is going to go against it and invite who she wanted all along.”

“I trust Cassandra, even when we don’t see eye to eye,” Barbara replied, entwining fingers with her wife. “Helena’s responsible.”

“Helena also will do what she wants and invite who she wants,” Dinah argued, finally getting to the line of Barbara’s jaw. 

“You’re right,” Babs smiled. “But that’s the Legacy more than anything, isn’t it? Doing what your gut says is right no matter who’s in charge and disagrees with you?”

“As long as you’re self-aware,” Dinah laughed warmly into Barbara’s ear before locking their lips. 

It was the best night of her life, with her high strung anxieties for once melted away by the trust she felt for each and every person around her. 

It was a Legacy, not a Network. But it was a network of trust.

The least surprising person to be picked up while they were gone was Stephanie Brown.

She had been Spoiler then Robin then Spoiler again. 

At the moment, she was standing off to the side in Barbara’s Batcave with her full mask still on and Cassandra standing firmly by her side. As if Cass’ presence was needed to show the act as one of defiance. 

“We’ve never gotten off on the right foot, have we, Spoiler?” Barbara asked as Dinah went and had her reunion with Sin. 

“I get that a lot from people who wear funny ears on their costumes,” Stephanie replied. “I’ve been training with Huntress and Batgirl for a whole week. I trained with Robin and Batman before...”

Before was a difficult but necessary place to leave that sentence. 

Cassandra was unmoving, eyes set on Barbara intensely. 

Barbara did not miss the very deliberate way that she was not wearing her costume. 

“You’re serious then,” Barbara said, folding her fingers together on her lap. “What was Helena’s opinion?”

“Yes,” Cass said without hesitation. “Before we even... started. It was yes.”

Of course it was, Barbara should have gotten Cassandra and Helena to work together sooner. They were almost a hivemind when it came to instinctive readings on people, fighting Barbara back when she needed to be fought back, and giving her migraines in the process. 

But it wasn’t about them. It was bigger than that. It was even bigger than Stephanie Brown. 

Steph tilted her head and looked questioningly at Cass. “Wait, yes to what? I thought we were doing this whole Birds of Prey outreach thing, right? Same as what Huntress is doing right now with Misfit and Catwoman and Question--”

“You’re more important,” Cass said without hesitation.

Stephanie looked back to Barbara, apparently not pleased with Cass’ penchant for being cryptic. 

“Stephanie Brown, we’re not simply working with the Birds of Prey,” Barbara informed her. “If you would like to do only that, you will continue working with Huntress and Black Canary, Misfit and the rest. You can do so as Spoiler or any identity you determine suits you best now that we’re in a time of everything about Gotham being Reborn.” Barbara dipped her chin down, looking steadily at Stephanie from over the rim of her glasses. “But, if you’re willing, Cassandra has chosen you for a deeper level entirely. For being a part of all of our legacy. To be a part of something more intimate.”

Folding her arms, Stephanie tried to seem nonchalant but she was almost shaking with nerves. “Do I have to be adopted by someone? That seems to be everyone’s MO lately.”

“You just have to answer a question Cassandra has for you,” Barbara replied, nodding to her daughter.

Cass looked at Stephanie with such meaning, such emotion, it prompted Spoiler to pull back her hood and mask. 

“Cass?” 

“Stephanie,” Cass began, “will you be... the new Batgirl?” 

Shocked, Stephanie dropped her mask. 

There was a tense silence, and then the girl let out a whooping scream before leaping at Cassandra and giving her a bear hug, lifting her off the floor and twirling around with her. 

“Only a thousand times yes!” she cried out. 

Barbara and Cass exchanged soft smiles. 

It was Phase One. Their legacy was moving forward. 

It had been too long since Barbara had sparred with Cassandra. 

She was fast she was good, but she went easy on Barbara. And that was her downfall. That was when she had Dinah bring Sin in and them both take her on. 

“Girls, girls, we’re family,” Barbara reminded her adopted daughters as she pulled out her eskrima. She smirked at them both as they got into stance. “That means we never hold back.”

Sin made the mistake of leaning too much on Cassandra’s lead. Cassandra made the mistake of being too soft toward the woman she saw as her mother. 

Barbara knew all too well that she wanted her girls to live with even the toughest fighter on the streets agains them. They both hit the mats at the same time. 

“Wow,” Sin managed, rubbing her jaw. 

Cass got to her feet in one motion and narrowed her eyes. She was mad because she had lost. 

Barbara couldn’t help but smile. 

Good. 

“Stay back,” Cassandra warned Sin before lunging forward toward Barbara.

“Okay?” Sin asked while Cass and Babs erupted into a flurry of attacks and motion. 

Cassandra had no weapons. Barbara was in her chair. They fought dirty to make up for the things they lacked, and that was exactly what Barbara wanted. 

Her Legacy was going to be stronger than her. Better than her. And her family was going to be thrice that.

“I want you to sign up for ballet,” Babs managed to grunt out in between hits. 

Cassandra pivoted and moved into her next attack. “I don’t want--”

“It’s not what you want, Cassie,” Barbara admonished. “It’s about what’s best for you. You may be mine and Dinah’s daughter, but you’re also one of the Wayne heirs. You’ll be expected to have a more public persona, and I also want you to do something that’ll make you happy.”

For a moment, just a moment, Cassandra left an opening. “You did... ballet.”

The next thing Cassandra knew, she was on her back on the mats again with Barbara leaning over her. 

“And we’ll do it again together,” Barbara said to her happily. “Because you need to be a civilian, Cassandra Wayne Gordon-Lance. And you also need a new costume and name now that Stephanie’s almost through bootcamp. And unfortunately, Batwoman seems to be taken.”

“Didn’t want to be anyway,” Cass said, sitting up and hugging her knees. Her brows knit together as she rested her chin against her knees. There were tears welling up in her eyes. “Was... was supposed to be Batman.”

Barbara felt her heart break. “Oh, Cass... you... there could be two, if you want to--” she stopped as Cassandra made a point of shaking her head. 

When she looked up, Barbara realized that Sin had been silently moving toward them all that time, her own eyes filled with tears. “Sisters,” she said, also getting Cass’ attention. “I am to be Black Canary. But I love you more. Please take my new name instead if it make you happy, Sisters. Please. You can take it and not cry, that would be enough for me.”

Cass’ mouth hung open in shock at the selflessness of the action before she reached over and pulled Sin into a giant bear hug, rolling with her on the mats. “You make me not cry. You make me happy, Sister,” Cass said over Sin’s giggling. 

Babs watched them with a soft smile before Cass came to a stop and looked up at Barbara meaningfully. “Ask Huntress,” she said. “I want to be... The Bat.”

With a small huff and a smile, Barbara shook her head. “No, Cass. You can ask her. When you go to tutoring tomorrow.”

Stephanie came back to the cave with a hollow look to her face and a noticeable tremor in her arms. She carried herself toward the lockers all the same and slumped onto the bench in front of her locker. 

But whatever energy she had used to get herself to that point seemed completely gone by the time she made it that far and she couldn’t manage to even pull more than her cowl off. 

If Barbara had needed the evidence that the new Batgirl was crying, she got it. 

Barbara, in truth, had been waiting for one of these nights, and she hated with everything in her that it was only Stephanie’s third night without Cassandra at her back.

“Oh, Steph,” she soothed, coming to her side. “We can’t save everyone.”

“I know that,” Stephanie said, rubbing at her face to get rid of the gross sobbing. “I know that. But I always... I hope... if I’m good enough--”

Not letting even a single other word out of her, Barbara pulled Stephanie into a tight embrace. “You are good enough, you’re Batgirl,” she reminded the young woman fiercely. “And when you wear that costume you are bigger than yourself, not just because of the women who came before you, but because of the person you have forged yourself to be. And we all believe in you.”

“Babs...” Stephanie sniffed. 

“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” she assured Stephanie. “I’m trying to run too many systems, too many people at once. The world needs Oracle, but so does the League and the Titans and Birds. But my family, my Batgirls, deserve Oracle most of all.”

“You can’t be everywhere,” Steph attempted to argue.

“I can,” Babs assured her. “But I make things a mess, get overstretched.” She looked up to Stephanie meaningfully. “How’re you doing in classes?” 

“I don’t see how that’s--”

“Because if you’re paying attention in the you may have noticed a new classmate of yours came in later in the semester than usual. Her name is Wendy Harris,” Barbara explained. “It’s going to be your new job to bring her in.”

Wendy took to cipher like a fish to water, and it wasn’t long before she joined Stephanie and Cassandra in joking around on the job. More Stephanie than Cassandra, of course, but it wasn’t long before Wendy was able to monitor both of them from patrols on opposite sides of town at the same time.

All with Sin sitting patiently in her lap and asking a thousand questions per night about her sister’s progress. 

“Sorry if she’s annoying while you’re working,” Dinah attempted to apologize as she sent Sin off to bed. “She’s taken a real shine to Cassandra, both being adopted super badasses and all.”

“Are you kidding?” Wendy had answered, rubbing tears from the corners of her eyes. “Speaking sister-to-sister is one of the things I look forward to the most with this job.”

Barbara was taking a break from her own servers to drink what was left of her most recent cup of coffee and watch the scene unfold from a distance. A distance she shared with Leslie Thompkins. 

“You know that Cassandra has tendencies to be more like Bruce, God bless his soul, than almost anyone I have had the pleasure of meeting,” Leslie said. “And I’ve had more than a hand in raising and evaluating the Boys over the years.”

“I do,” Barbara said, raising her mug to her lips again. 

“And you’re aware that closing people off, punishing herself -- that comes as part of that package,” Leslie pressed.

“I’m aware,” Barbara said. “No one fought with Bruce harder than you, except maybe me, Leslie. I know what my daughter needs.” She looked to Leslie with a knowing smile. “She needs what I learned to need when I was just the same -- a team, a family. And that’s what we’ve built here out of the Legacy. Everywhere she turns, even when Bruce is not there, even when I’m not there, she knows there are a dozen more people who are. They need her, and more importantly she needs them.”

Leslie nodded. “Thank you for helping with Wendy Harris.”

“Thank you for everything, Leslie,” Barbara replied. “And I mean that.”

It’s after ballet that Cassandra insisted that they get some tea and relax together. It was something that Barbara couldn’t refuse, considering that getting Cassandra to start ballet to begin with had been like pulling teeth. It was the least she could have done to humor her.

Dinah was holding Sin’s right hand, Cass holding Sin’s left, and Charlie bouncing around and talking about, or rather complaining about, the lack of capes on recent new superheroes in the magazine rags. Stephanie argued about the lack of Bats despite the magazine’s supposed Gotham base. 

It was downright domestic in downtown Gotham, and something that Barbara never thought she’d be a part of. 

“Oh, here’s the place -- it opened up in that store I was considering getting to start up my floral business again,” Dinah announced, pointing to the cafe. 

“Alright, let’s hurry in, get something to warm us up,” Barbara said, trying to motion for the girls to usher forward. 

“Just wants to get back to work,” Cass sniggered, picking Sin up to carry her once Dinah released Sin’s other hand. 

“Someone has to work around here,” Barbara defended, leading the way into the cafe. 

“Welcome to Brenda’s Cafe! The special today is--” the woman behind the counter looked up and dropped the handful of mugs that were in her hands, breaking them against the counter. “Cassandra!?”

Everyone stopped at the cafe’s entrance and looked in surprise at the woman. 

Some of them got used to being recognized around the city -- Barbara’s face was known by every cop in Gotham county, as was Dinah’s thanks to her own father. Stephanie had various friends from high school and college. 

When Cass was recognized, it was always Miss Wayne. And it never carried the familiarity that the cafe worker was giving Cassandra.

Fortunately, Cassandra did not drop Sin, but her shock was shared all the same.

“Brenda?” she asked. “But... Blüdhaven--”

“I thought you...” this so-called Brenda continued, walking around the counter, eyes widening. “My god, it’s really you!?”

Cass put Sin down and immediately the two collided into an embrace, tearful and emotional beyond anything Barbara had seen from Cass in years. 

Sin moved to Dinah’s side and tugged on her coat. “Sister is happy?”

“Very,” Dinah replied before looking smugly toward Barbara. “But Babs isn’t. What’s the deal?”

Barbara couldn’t help her frown. “Not that I’m turning into my father--”

“Which you totally are,” Dinah snickered.

“But she has tattoos,” Babs pointed out to the roarous laughter of her family around her.

It had been years. Years since Barbara took the step to grow her personal Legacy, her personal family, and nurture it the way it had always deserved.

The way she had always deserved and never allowed herself to feel that way. 

Cassandra had not looked as nervous on her wedding day as she had then right then. Meanwhile Sin was trying out designs for a new Black Canary outfit. 

Stephanie, according to the monitors, was pulling in through the third cave system. She liked taking the long routes as Nightwing those days, it seemed. Scenic and showy for the new recruit. 

“Never knew,” Cass said, chewing on her knuckle. “Never knew he... had a daughter.”

“I put the dots together,” Barbara said sympathetically, reaching a mug of tea Brenda had made for them toward Cass. “John Robinson’s daughter, like her mother, goes by her mother’s maiden name. Little. And she has been a Batgirl fan her whole life -- since the moment she heard stories of the heroic young woman who fought to the ends of the world to save her father’s life.”

“Failed,” Cass said, not accepting the tea. 

“Not how I see it,” Barbara pointed out. “As for your pick...?”

“Tiffany,” Cass said, looking to the other monitor as Charlie and Dinah came through the Manor -- to Damian’s eternal chagrin. The young Fox girl was curious and full of energy. “Smart. To have more than one at the same time.”

“Being Batgirl isn’t just about independence or worth,” Barbara said calmly. “Our directive -- the Legacy’s directive -- is to ensure that young women who make the selfless choice to put on our emblem, to better our city, to avenge the innocents who are harmed, receive the vital support and training they need to do so.” She looked proudly at the woman her daughter had become. “That’s what the Birds of Prey is. That’s what the Legacy is.”

Cass smiled proudly back. “We’re Batgirl.”