#And then get snacks because Alfred is a good host | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yall-imhere · 2 months ago

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Batman - Study in the Scarlet Gallery (Batman/Bruce Wayne x Fem!OC) Part 1

This is the first time I posted a short story on Tumblr, I usually post on Wattpad but when I saw one of my favorite Batfam fanfic writers's main platform is here, and I made a Tumblr profile to read more of her works. Then I wanna try posting here too :) for a change of scenery.

Synopsis: Third year as Batman, Bruce come to a mystery that hits closer to home. And one that Batman alone cannot solve -- he will need to be both Batman and Bruce Wayne to find out the truth that Gotham has buried for the past six years and is being pulled into the light by a mysterious woman seeking vengeance.

The first time Bruce Wayne met Sienna Fallbrook was during a gala at the Fallbrook estate for an art gallery charity; the patriarch of the family, Sheldon Fallbrook, was a fan of the arts and often hosted his charities in the themes of artworks. At that time Bruce was young, probably six years old, and was normally left at home with their family butler, Alfred, whenever an invitation is extended to the Waynes but this time Sheldon Fallbrook insisted on having the boy over by telling the Waynes, “it’s about time the little ones get to know one another, get to know the business – we won’t be alive forever, you know!”

While it wasn’t a strong reason to have young Bruce Wayne into the gala, it was what Sheldon added that changed Martha Wayne’s mind in the matter: “My little girls will be there too, Rebecca and little Sienna.”

“I think it would be a good idea, Thomas,” Martha told her husband.”We should let Bruce meet other kids his age.”

Bruce frowned at that statement. Not too long ago, his childhood friend, Thomas Eliot, became distant to Bruce after the latter promised him that Dr. Wayne can save both his parents from their injuries that they got from an accident, but in the end it was only Eliot’s mother who survived and Thomas Eliot hated Bruce for giving him such hope. Since then Thomas Eliot hasn’t shown himself to Bruce and refuses to reach out again. Or maybe it was because of Thomas Eliot’s mother, who became more recluse after the accident.

After that there weren’t many kids that Bruce hung out with. Though he was quite popular in school, given his looks and name, he was more of an introvert and would rather be in the library reading books.

It took Martha a few more convincing arguments before Thomas finally looked down at his son and asked, “do you want to go to the gala, Bruce?”

Bruce looked at his father and then saw his mother’s sincere smile. This was for him. What she was doing was good for him. No mother would want to hurt their child, right? Besides, his parents never made him do what he didn’t want to. Unless he was grounded for breaking house rules.

“Do you have snacks at the gala?” Bruce asked Sheldon directly.

The three adults laughed wholeheartedly, and Mr. Fallbrook said, “why yes! And what snack would you want there?”

Bruce thought long and hard before answering, “those small cheeseburgers, like what Alfred makes me at home!”

Another laugh.

“Well, I can’t promise it’ll be as good as the ones the good old Alfred makes, but I can get a couple of little cheeseburgers for you,” he made a small measurement with his finger and thumb. “Alright, kiddo, see you there. Rebecca and Sienna would be happy to see you!” Then Fallbrook said to his parents, “and don’t forget your checks. It’s still a charity event after all.”

The night of the gala, Alfred helped Bruce prepare – helping him into the new suit his parents had custom-made to fit him perfectly. It was in the shade of dark blue (Martha thought black was a little too serious for a child), with a matching bowtie, shined shoes, and –

“Flowers?” Bruce wondered when Alfred placed the boutonniere on his left breast pocket.

“A boutonniere, Young Master Bruce. It’s a common accessory for formal events, and tonight, you are going to one.”

Bruce sighed as Alfred fixed the white carnation flower on his chest and let the man finish his work. “Do you know the Fallbrooks, Alfred?”

“Not intimately, Sir. Just the basics.” Meaning whatever everyone has seen on the papers. The founder and faces of Fallbrook Conglomerate. One of Gotham’s rich and powerful families, but not as rich and powerful as the Waynes; the Fallbrooks were not part of the five major families that built Gotham, they grew their wealth during the mid-18th century during the Industrial Revolution, and during the war Fallbrook Industries – as it was called then – supplied the weapons during the wars.

Then there was the family. Sheldon Fallbrook, a true-born Gothamite and the current head of the family and CEO of the company, married to a Spanish-heiress whose family thought Gotham was their next venture but ended up eaten by Gotham’s corruption.

It was Sheldon Fallbrook who saved them when he married Laura Alegria and took their company under the Fallbrook’s. Aside from gaining a place in the hospitality and entertainment industry, the union gave the couple two daughters, Rebecca and Sienna Fallbrook. Two girls who were around Bruce’s age with the former being his age, and the latter a couple of years young.

Two girls.

Though he never had anything against girls, he remembered the girls in his school and the things they do for “fun”. He wasn’t quick to judge but Bruce wasn’t “into” those types of things.

His face must have given away his thoughts because Alfred chuckled, pulling him from his train of thoughts, and said, “You better learn how to hide what you're thinking from showing on your face, Young Master Bruce! But do not worry, I’m sure you’ll get along with the Fallbrook girls. You’d be surprised, you might find a friend at this gala. Just keep an open mind.”

“Alright, Alfred,” Bruce said and got off the step he was on to help the butler with his height.

After a goodbye to Alfred, and reminding him to get some rest, the Waynes drove off to main Gotham – specifically, Gotham Heights. One of the places in Gotham that had less crime-rates. With their wealth, the Fallbrooks would have been able to purchase land at Bristol, on the mainland and the outskirts of Gotham, away from the crime-ridden city, but they chose to be at the heart of it all.

Fallbrook manor was large, much like the lots in Gotham Heights. Its brick fences are high with spear-like gates to keep away tempted robbers, and inside was a large garden with a road that leads to the manor that had a mix of Georgian and a Spanish villa architecture. Thoman commented that the Mexican villa theme happened when Laura Fallbrook nee’ Alegria moved in, and Martha noted how she would love to have those smooth stucco and stone exteriors for Wayne Manor too. It made Bruce laugh as his father sighed loudly and he saw his mother wink at his direction jokingly.

Entering the Fallbrook manor, the Waynes were greeted by the other guests who were close by, all shaking hands with Thomas and Martha, and saying hello to Bruce. Despite not wanting the attention and the urge to hide behind his mother, Bruce kept his facade and greeted the strangers with a good evening. Not long after, the hosts finally came to see them and greeted the Waynes with such familiarity. Sheldon Fallbrook happily patted Thomas at the back, while Laura Fallbrook greeted Martha with a kiss on the cheek. They spoke for a while until the couple took notice of Bruce, and Laura called someone’s name to “bring the girls”.

From the crowd, a woman – Laura’s lady-in-waiting – came with two girls holding her hands. One was taller than the other but both shared traits, such as their facial traits, olive skin, and physique. One would think they were twins if it weren’t for their age, the only thing that sets them apart were the shades of their hair – Rebecca, the eldest, had a lighter shade of brown, while Sienna, the youngest, had a darker shade – and then their eyes – Rebecca had her father’s brown eyes, while Sienna has her mother’s green eyes.

“These must be the girls,” Martha greeted them fondly. The eldest had no trouble with happily introducing herself, but Sienna. Sienna was a bit shy. She avoided eye-contact and she spoke softly when she said hello.

She seems much closer to her father as Sheldon knelt down to her height, not caring if he got dust on his trousers, and held his daughter’s hand as encouragement. “How about Bruce? Have you said hello? Come on, doll, I’m sure you remember him?”

Sienna looked up to him and said, “yes,” before hugging her father to hide her face. It made the grown ups laugh.

“I think someone has a little crush,” Laura jests.

Sheldon sighed in defeat when Sienna refused to let go of him. “I was hoping if she met some new faces she’d take a step from her shyness, but I guess she’s still in that stage.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll pass,” said Thomas. “So, when does the auction start? I saw the pamphlet – I can’t believe you put your Gentileschi collection for auction, Sheldon!”

“Well, it’s all for the cause – the money here is set to rebuild the East Side. Fix some homes, make shelter, and establish a public hospital.”

“Anything to help Gotham.”

“Speaking of, the auction will start in a couple of minutes. Please, mingle while you can, I’ll just settle this little one. Hey, Bruce, you can hang out with Rebecca here while the grown ups go to the boring party later. We got the theater here all set up for you kids.”

Bruce nodded and thanked Sheldon before the man left with Sienna in his arms, and his wife leaving with Rebecca. As the family left, though, Bruce saw Sienna raise her head from her father’s shoulder and looked at him. Her face was all red as she waved hello to him. Seeing her effort, Bruce returned the gesture with a smile.

~*~

The theater room of the Fallbrooks wasn’t as big as Wayne's, but it was cozy with soft chairs that were too big for a child and swallowed him whole, and there was tons of food on their own side tables.

When the auction was about to start, Bruce was beconned by girls’ nannies to be brought to the theater to watch a movie. He went willingly and was dragged along by Rebecca, while Sienna held the hand of their nanny and walked a few steps behind. Bruce would look back just to check they were still there, and whenever he would Sienna would look away.

Rebecca sat at the center, wanting to be close to Bruce, while her sister trailed to her other side. She went on and on about the movie they were going to watch, but Bruce only nodded but the information flowed right through his ears. When the movie began, Bruce was already half-through his popcorn, so he took one of the mini-cheeseburgers and had some iced tea.

Half-way through the movie he noticed someone’s shadow moving. It was Sienna. The girl whispered to her sister about going to the bathroom, when she was going to ask their nanny, they found the woman fast asleep. When Rebecca did not offer to go with her, Bruce did but the eldest Fallbrook sister said Sienna knew her way around the manor. So he lets the little girl go.

That is until he noticed the youngest Fallbrook putting mini-cheeseburgers, fries, and cookies to the cloth placemat as a bag then left. A snack on the way there? Was the bathroom that far?

He doubts it. Bruce saw the bathroom on their way to the theater and it was just a few steps from the room.

Making an excuse to use the bathroom, Bruce quietly caught up to Sienna.

He was right. She wasn’t going to the bathroom. Instead, she went through different paths, and Bruce made an effort to keep up with her pace.

For a five-year-old with short legs, Sienna Fallbrook was fast.

They passed the doors of the room where the auction was being held, he even heard the hammer being pounded as another painting was sold.

Then he came to the gallery. The large hall had scarlet doors with gold knobs, a red carpet and there they were…

The Fallbrook family’s Gentileschi collection, all in golden frames.

And at the very center was the youngest Fallbrook sitting in the middle of the red carpet, her neck craned up as she looked at one of the paintings while eating the cheeseburgers.

“What are you doing here?” Bruce spoke up as he approached her.

Sienna jumped in his presence. She looked around, hoping no one else was there, and sighed in relief when it was just him.

“They’re going to sell them now,” Sienna spoke softly, disappointment in her voice. “The paintings.”

“Don’t you want to sell them?” Bruce asked. He sat beside her and looked at the painting she was staring at. It was a brutal looking painting with two women holding down and beheading a man while he was in bed. It sent a shiver down Bruce’s spine, and – though he won’t admit it – gave him a fright. “Is this your favorite?”

Sienna nodded. “Mother doesn’t like it… but I do.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just do.”

“Doesn’t it scare you?”

Sienna shook her head. “I don’t want him to sell this painting. But they can’t sell the paintings without it.”

Bruce frowned. “Maybe you can ask the person who buys it to let you keep it for a while.”

“Dad said that’s not how business works.”

“Is that why you came out here? To look at it one last time?”

Sienna nodded, she then offered him more mini-cheeseburgers and some fries. Bruce thanked her and took one mini cheeseburger. “Also because I watched that movie a hundred times now. Becca likes it too much. What about you?”

Bruce made a face. “I don’t like it either.”

Sienna snickered and then laughed. Her laugh, and the sight of her smile was infectious that it had Bruce laugh as well. They stayed at the gallery for some time until they had fallen asleep – a food coma.

Their parents found them, right after the auction, asleep against the wall. Snacks on their laps. And the children snored softly. It was late, and according to one of the staff, Rebecca has retreated to bed right in the middle of the movie too.

When the parents were to pick them up, Bruce and Sienna woke up and apologized for being in the room. They picked up their food, handing it over to one of the staff standing with their parents, and were about to say goodbye when Bruce asked: “Mr. Fallbrook, who bought that painting?” he pointed at the one they were looking at earlier.

“I believe it was the Waynes, Sir,” one of the men spoke.

“Do you like it, Bruce?” Martha asked, though she was concerned that her son was looking at something so brutal and horrific.

Bruce turned to Sienna, who was frowning, “can we… can we not take it just yet?”

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked, worried the boy found the painting a bit scary. Since he was a baby Bruce was scared of a lot of things. Even the sound of bats flying around made him cry back then.

“It’s Sienna’s favorite painting.”

The shock on their faces was mostly at the fact a little girl likes a brutal looking painting with two women decapitating a man. “I – uh…” Thomas was at a loss for words, even Sheldon couldn’t conjure anything.

Sienna then tugged on Bruce’s blazer and said, “it’s okay… you can have it. But can I see it sometime?”

“Of course, you can, Sienna. You’re more than welcome to visit it at our home,” said Martha. “Now, it’s getting late, and you two need to go to bed. I bet you fell asleep because of all the sliders you ate.”

“What are sliders?’ Bruce asked.

“You mean the baby-cheeseburgers?” Sienna added.

The name made Bruce snicker. “Baby-cheeseburgers?”

“Yes, what do you call them?”

“Mini-cheeseburgers.”

“Baby-cheeseburgers sounds better.”

Bruce shrugged. “Thank you for tonight, Mr. Fallbrook.”

“Anytime, boy. Anytime.” Sheldon messed with his hair.

Turning to Sienna, Bruce was about to hold out his hand – just like how his parents would greet and say goodbye to their guests – but felt it was off to do so. Instead, he looked down at his left breast and saw the ruffled carnations, he took them from his breast pocket and handed it to Sienna. “Thank you for… being a good host,” he said shyly.

Sienna, turned deep red and accepted the small flower. “Thank you for… coming here tonight. See you at school?”

“But we��re not in the same class.”

“Oh… right.” Why did she have to be younger than him? Sienna thought. If only she was a bit older now.

“I’m sure you both will see each other on campus,” said Martha. “Come along now, Bruce. Sienna needs to get to bed, and so do you.”

“Bye,” Bruce said and left with his parents. He made one last look at the girl’s direction and saw her waving at his way again.

~ Many Years Later ~

Standing at the Fallbrook scarlet-doored gallery, Bruce remembered the time he and that little girl sat there for hours just to look at the painting, which he later learned was called “Judith Slaying Holofernes” by Artemisia Gentileschi. He was just around six years old then, if memory serves him right, and Sienna Fallbrook was the first friend he made again after his and Thomas Eliot’s fallout. They became thick as thieves after that night, then tragedy struck the Waynes.

Bruce’s parents were murdered in Crime Alley, and Bruce isolated himself from everyone around him. Sienna tried to approach him, but he only yelled at her to “get lost” and “never show her face to him again”. She never did – she tried to, but with them both going to Gotham Academy it was hard to not run into each other.

Remembering all those years made Bruce sigh deeply and rub the bridge of his nose. A mannerism he developed whenever he thought of the things he foolishly did in his youth.

He wondered if, for a moment, if they both stayed friends. Would she be there at his side now, reminiscing the time they fell asleep on that corner, staring at the painting? Would they still be friends despite his sudden disappearance years ago for his training to be the persona of fear and justice in Gotham? Would he have told her about his other life as a vigilante?

Probably not.

But all those what ifs only dampened his mood further as he remembered where Sienna Fallbrook was, and it pained him that they were out there – enjoying the wine, eating fancy food – while she was… no one knows where she was now. According to Alfred and the Fallbrooks, Sienna never recovered after her father’s death, she isolated herself and started to act differently. They decided to take her away from Gotham, a change of scenery to help her grieve, but a few months into her stay in Spain (with their relatives there), Sienna disappeared. They searched and searched, but no traces can be found of her and she was presumed dead.

When Bruce heard the news, he found himself heading to his family’s gallery where the Gentilleschi painting hung, thinking about the little girl he befriended because of that painting, and the tragedy that came to her. And the fact – until now – he wondered why she loved this painting so.

“Bruce!” Rebecca greeted him with a smile.

“Rebecca, how are you?” Bruce smiled back.

“Oh, you know how tiring these things are.”

“And I thought you were the life of the party?”

“This party though?”

“Not your style?”

“No. But I do enjoy the grandeur.”

“Well, you and your husband did a good job.”

“Have you chosen what piece you’ll be taking home tonight?”

“I’m still deciding between the Goya and the Varo.”

Rebecca had her arm around his and brought him to where the two paintings were. “You can always take both.”

“That would be greedy of me.”

“It’s a charity, Bruce!”

“By the way – what kind of charity is this, I’d like to know what foundation is hosting this –”

Before Rebecca could answer, a man appeared with open arms and said, “why it’s the Sheldon Fallbrook foundation, Bruce!”

It was Warren Lawford. Rebecca’s husband, and the current head of Fallbrook Conglomerate. Bruce was never a fan of Warren. He wasn’t one to judge people on first impressions but when Bruce first met Warren Lawford at one of the parties his uncle Philip Kane hosted on his return from being gone for three years, he didn’t like him. And even more when he saw Lawford in one of the Wayne galas treating Alfred with no respect. When he told him off for his behavior, all Lawford said was, “of course, Gotham’s golden boy, Bruce Wayne, the poster boy of the servants and the oppressed. Come on, stop the act of being chummy with the help –”

That earned a punch across the face. After that, all of the invitations were only for the Fallbrook women and not Warren.

And Bruce wouldn’t have come tonight if it weren’t for the case he was currently trying to solve. The one that he got a few days ago from Jim Gordon, when a reported breakout in Arkham happened. It was the Riddler who got out, and some other patients. Batman was able to capture most of the criminals but the Riddler is still in hiding.

He has to give it to the man, the Riddler was good at staying out of his radar.

But weeks after the Arkham breakout, there was a crime that required Batman’s help.

He could still remember the sight of the still living body sitting on the leather armchair, upper-body wrapped in white cloth that made them unable to move, and a pipe with a thumb-sized hole being the only source of air from the duct tape that was wrapped around the man’s face – who they later identified as one of the security guards in Arkham, Lyle Bolton – and written on their face with a red marker was: OPEN YOUR EYES, GOTHAM!

Then pinned to the man’s shoulder, using a nail gun, was an envelope that had records of using excessive force on the patients, and corruption, which Arkham Asylum decided to bury.

“That’s a bit excessive,”, muttered as he cringed at the sight of the nail pinned to the man’s shoulder.

“The perpetrator didn’t want to do serious damage,” Batman noted as he inspected the wound. Lyle was now knocked out on the chair due to the pain, and was still breathing.

“Didn’t want to do serious damage –” Jim raised a brow at him.

Bollock agreed. “ the perp nailed the message to the guy’s shoulder and I’m pretty sure it went through the bone too.”

“Yes, but aside from that, they didn’t hit any arteries. They wanted to inflict paint. Excruciating pain. Pain that would last a lifetime. But not kill,” Batman pointed out.

“I’ll add that to my list of ‘ways to hurt but not kill people’,” Bollock muttered.

“ Anything else that was left?” Batman continued.

“Yes. The perpetrator left this,” Jim walked towards the open floor and used a UV light to show the message written with black spray paint:

You give me away by taking me. And I shall take, and take, and take, and take Until I find ideals that the Lady stands at the mooring. Bolton is the first, and he won’t be the last. Beware the trinity of sea, air, and land. For justice will come to you that befits your crimes.

2456, 2663 – 0505xx

Finishing the message, Batman turned to Jim, both knowing who they had in mind. But…

But something wasn’t right.

“They sure do have a lot of paint to write something this long, and patience too,” Bollock noted.

And skill, Bruce thought. The precision in the release of the paint and how the words flowed showed expertise.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Jim said to Batman.

“He is the only person that’s not yet been found, and riddles are his M.O.,” Batman said. “I’ll handle this, Jim, something just doesn’t add up… I’ll leave Mr. Bolton to you.”

“Sure,” Jim sighed as he saw the medical team try to remove the duct tape. That’s going to hurt. “I’ll make sure to get these papers escalated. Bolton just lost his luck this time… say, keep me posted on the –”

The Batman was gone.

“I hate it when he does that…”

After looking into the copy of the reports about Bolton and the message, Batman realized the numbers were a location. Specifically, Fallbrook’s manor, and the numbers at the very end was a date. The very date of Fallbrook's charity event. Batman informed Jim of the findings, and Jim tried to reason with the Fallbrooks to cancel the event but stubborn and proud Lawford said something in the lines of, “the show must go on” and “I’m not afraid of some riddle”.

He should be, Batman thought then. He doubted Lawford could answer one of Riddler’s childish games.

But Batman agrees with him. They still did not know the perpetrator’s motivation for the crime, and they needed to understand why and what this person has against the Fallbrooks to attack the gala. And why let them know.

Back in Fallbrook’s gallery and Warren talking about the Sheldon Fallbrook charity, Bruce made an excuse to get himself away from the man and started to look around. While it was satisfying to see Warren Lawford be dismissed by Wayne in front of the people he gathered with his loud voice, he did have work to do for his alter-ego.

The six-line riddle ran through his head, but after a while of trying to figure it out in the Bat-cave, it was Alfred who pointed out the answer to the first line –

“Revenge,” Alfred spoke, catching him by surprise. “The riddle on the first line, it was on last Sunday’s crossword puzzle. Oh my, has the Riddler ran out of riddles that he has resorted to stealing from the Gotham Gazette’s crossword?”

It’s when it hit him. The six-line riddle was made up of riddles.

“You’re a genius, Alfred,” Bruce said as he got to work. And he was sure to have heard the man say, “why, it’s one of the many qualifications for this position – a working brain.”

It was both a message and a riddle – all mixed up to make it look like it was one riddle.

“The first two lines – you give me away by taking me: that’s vengeance. Then the second line repeats four times. Meaning the person will have her revenge four times on four people.” He skipped the third line and proceeded to the fourth. “Bolton is the first, and he won’t be the last – Bolton was known for his violence against the patients in Arkham.”

“Then he must have done something to have the Riddler do such horrific and… painful,” Alfred winced as he looked at the image of the duct taped head of the security guard. “Way to extract revenge.”

“But this isn’t the Riddler’s work. This isn’t his M.O., he’s not one to beat and duct tape someone’s face and leave them breathing through a pipe. Someone is posing as him – using his Riddles to get me and the GCPD off their back.”

Now, Bruce was looking through the galleries, trying to find the answer to the other clues. The third and second to the last line was ominous to him, but he was sure of the last. The truth will come out, and has a feeling that he could find that in Fallbrook manor.

What was the family hiding? It was hard to believe that the once-happy and innocent Fallbrook family is tied to this vengeance seeking criminal. Everyone’s a suspect until proven guilty. Everything is possible. Those were one of the things he learned in the past three years.

~*~

The auction began and Bruce has yet to find any clue to the riddle. He was forced to sit down with the others and go through the many paintings on the screen and watch as people bid on each piece. When the Goya came to view, Bruce decided to opt for that but then it happened.

The image where the Goya painting of Saturn eating his children was replaced by the image of another painting. It was a painting that he did not see in the collection, and it was painted by a fellow Gothamite. The painting was of Lady Gotham on Gotham Harbor that was worth about a five million dollars –

A glitch on the screen, and the lights.

Many gasped and were starting to panic.

And then…

The lights remained lit and the screen now showed the painting was shown – the actual one – and on the canvas, sprayed with red paint, were the words: the one thing that Gotham doesn’t have.

Many gasped at the vandalism and even more when they realized what was being shown was a live feed and there were security personnel running the room trying to capture the perpetrator there. But it wasn’t long when those same security guards were thrown across the room and a figure appeared. An individual with average height, possessing a muscular build, wearing a black and green form-fitting bodysuit with a striking blend of futuristic and tactical elements, with a high collar and is armored at the upper-part of her body while still having style.

Their perpetrator was a woman.

She finally faced the camera.

Her face was covered with a black and green mask that Bruce guessed also serves as a gas mask and night-vision, since she threw tear-gas in the room. Then she spoke at the camera, her voice modulated with a techno-vibe, “You know where to find me.”

“Go after her!” Bruce heard from the front. Warren Lawford has commanded two of his friends to head to the location.

And so did Batman.

~*~

The doors to the gallery were locked, and Warren, along with his two friends – Armand Lydecker and Gunther Hardwicke – and the security present were trying to kick down the scarlet doors of the gallery. Its smooth red wood was now scratched, chipped, and ruined with the make-shift battering ram they made with one of the mahogany benches there. While they battled with that, Batman saw another opening.

Rather, Bruce Wayne did.

Bruce knew Fallbrook manor a little intimately with the numerous times he’s visited Sienna when they were children. She showed him the passages that she learned while exploring the place. The scarlet gallery had a high-ceiling – one that reached the roof of the third floor, and within its walls there was a passage from the dumbwaiter when he goes in, and stops at the third level, the left side panel would open which would lead to the walls between that had, what they thought were old stairs but were really just the wooden foundations to the false window atop. Giving him a view of the entire gallery.

“I would always come here to hide whenever Rebecca is being mean to me,” Sienna told him then.

“Why here?”

“Because Rebecca doesn’t like dirty things and she’s afraid of heights.”

“And you’re not?”

“No… I like it here, I can see everything.”

And young Sienna was right.

From the false window, Batman could see the entire gallery and has a view on who he was up against.

There she was. Clad in black and green, the woman sitting in the middle of the tear-gas mist, only the longer Bruce looked at the mist it wasn’t tear gas it was –

Batman knew that smell.

Shit!

Batman quickly took out his gas mask to prevent himself from inhaling more of Poison Ivy’s hallucinogenic gas. But the people beyond the door didn’t know and in a few minutes they’ll be inhaling this poison soon. He needed to get to his perpetrator.

Jumping out of the false window, Batman glided down and kicked her at the back, sending the woman across the room. Despite the mask, Batman knew she was shocked at her attack. She probably didn’t know about the false window, he thought.

“So, you found my little note?” the woman got up.

“I gotta admit, you almost got me convinced with the Riddle.”

“Well, I wasn’t really trying to get Eddy’s thing but gotta make things interesting – you know? Gotta make sure the idiots know that it’s for them.” She walked around, nonchalantly, her hands on her back. Batman kept an eye on her hands that toyed by her belt satchel. “But I guess I gotta dumb it down a bit.”

Batman frowned. “So, you know the Riddler, and I guess Ivy too.”

“Ivy, yeah, she shared some tips to keep my plants from dying in my cell. Eddy, oh, he’s leading group therapy – oh, you don’t know? Yeah, The Riddler’s doing a fantastic job, by the way, keeps everyone on their toes and delusional. But, hey, who am I to judge costume-wearing criminals, am I right?”

“You’re from Arkham.”

But who? He got all of the escapees but for Riddler.

“I’m sure you’re wondering now who? Who else did the Big Bat forget in his naughty list?”

“Who are you?” He asked, cautiously.

“You’ll find out soon enough – hey, Bats –” a whistle “-- my eyes are up here!” He lost sight of her hands and she threw a few small-explosives in his way. Batman used his cape to cover himself.

Wrong move.

She came at him, kicking him down. If it weren’t for his arm that was above his head, he’d be knocked out now with the force she had. But that wasn’t all, she quickly maneuvered over, twisting her body, to angle and kick him from the inside with her free leg. Batman went down with an aching jaw.

“Good kick,” he muttered.

She came at him again, this time with a retractable staff. Batman rolled over to avoid the hit, and jumped to his feet. She was fast, he noted. Nimble. She knows how to use her physique against his own and her punches felt like a metal bat being held by a professional. He couldn’t find an opening, she was smart to keep her distance from him, knowing she doesn’t stand a chance if he grabs her. But she wasn’t giving him enough room nor time to reach for his utility belt for one of his gadgets.

Unlucky for him.

There is one thing he noticed. She’s keeping the fight away from the paintings. Quick on his toes, Batman snagged whatever he could find in his utility belt – a batarang – and threw it in the direction of the paintings. As he expected, her gaze followed the weapon and he grabbed the staff, pulling her by the collar, then head-butts her. The woman fell down. Normally a person would look at their attacker but her gaze was in the direction of the batarang that was pinned to the wall, just a few centimeters from Goya's painting.

“My eyes are up here,” Batman mocked her and was about to grab her, but the woman swept her legs across the floor, tripping him and went to grab her stuff.

But he was faster.

From his utility belt, Batman pointed his electric charge gun at her and fired.

The woman groaned in pain, wincing but she wasn’t crumbling down. She even grabbed the wires of his weapon and pulled it off her. Turning to him, she said: “Yeah, that doesn’t work for me anymore.”

The door was broken in.

“FREEZE!”

“GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!”

“HANDS IN THE AIR!”

It was GCPD with the Fallbrook and Lawford security, Jim was leading them all.

The woman turned to them, letting go of the electric wires, “which is it?”

Guns are fired and the woman quickly threw a smoke bomb on the ground. The last Batman heard is a grappling hook, the gadget zipping up, and the window crashing. It took a while before the smoke cleared and there was just them.

“She got away,” Batman muttered, glaring at the direction of the broken glass.

GCPD officers started running back to their cars, hoping to chase her, but Batman didn’t hear any vehicle leaving the grounds. She found another way out, but where?

“She got you too?” Jim said to him. “Oh shit, she really did get you – ”

“She’s got a good kick,” Batman commented. “And she seems to be a big art enthusiast.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She didn’t damage the paintings. All of the paintings here have bullet proof glass to protect them from external elements,” Batman pointed at the works. “The vandalism she made was on the glass. That’s why she threw that poisonous gas.”

“Poisonous gas?!”

“It’s gone now.”

“Good, but I think she left something for us too,” Jim pointed at the cracked windows. Another message, this time written with a black marker. “Guess she was in a hurry?”

He finally saw it. The message writing on the wall:

Finally solved it? See you there at –

There were numbers – a date and time, Batman guessed. Then at the last line, it says:

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

~*~

“Anna Karenina.”

“Pardon, Sir?” Alfred asked.

In the Bat-Cave, a few days after retreating for the night with an aching jaw and a head full of questions, Bruce went through the messages left by the woman – who the GCPD started to call ‘Vandal’ – the photos that he got from his recording were shown on the screen, from the first message written on the floor, then the vandalism on the Lady Gotham painting, then on the window.

“The last line on the latest message. It’s a line from Anna Karenina – the first line. Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Everything that’s happened – the first message, her agenda – it seems personal towards the Fallbrooks. Also, Lyle Bolton, and the fact she knows the Riddler and Ivy, and the fact she mentioned her cell in Arkham, it means she’s from Arkham Asylum but aside from the Riddler, I’ve captured all of the escapees.

“I’ve checked with Jim and the records at Arkham for any of their patients. All of them are checked in but for Nygma.”

“So, she’s a ghost,” said Alfred.

“Yes.”

“Then shall we move to the other clue that was left by our Ms. Vandal?”

“Until I find ideals that the Lady stands at the mooring,” Batman read the line. Then he opened the vandalism on the painting’s glass, “the one thing that Gotham doesn’t have.”

Bruce studied the work on the glass closely, then cursed, and let out a breathy chuckle of annoyance. “I can’t believe it – the answer was already there and I didn’t see.’’

“Sir?”

“The Lady standing on the mooring – the one thing Gotham doesn’t have – justice. The very thing that Lady Gotham represents. She’s looking for justice,” he got up from his seat. “And she just gave us her next location. What time is it, Alfred?”

“Nearing midnight, Sir.”

“I don’t have time, I need to go to Lady Gotham, now!”

~*~

Taking the jet, Batman arrived at Lady Gotham in the least subtle way. No point in being subtle when they were expecting him. He landed the jet at the bottom of the statue and then looked up. There at the pommel of the scale, he saw a flash of light going on and off in a certain pattern –

Welcome, Bats!

Grabbing his grappling hook, Batman shot it up to give himself a boost to have enough power to fly himself up to the top and glide down smoothly on the pommel. It was only the light programmed to set the precise timing between turning on and off for the message.

“Took you long enough.”

There she stood, on top of Lady Gotham’s head in full-clad armor but for the goggles she wore the other night. Her shabby pixie-cut hair flying with the strong winds, one side was shaded with a bald spot near the temple.

Electroconvulsive therapy.

With the type of scarring it explains how she became immune to the electric charge gun he fired at her.

“I can read you like a book,” she spoke. “I can see what’s going on in your mind right now – you’re thinking, she’s from Arkham but there’s no records of her. Not even the redacted ones the warden hides in his safe. And I’m sure you’ve been wondering what the last two lines mean?”

“Actually, I was thinking about the boat you used to get here. Fancy. And not yours.”

“It’s a rental.”

“Really? And what are you paying for?”

She hummed in thought. “The Lydeckers and the Hardwicke wouldn’t mind, especially when it’s the one that kept their sons from getting hypothermia getting here.”

Hostages?

An alarm was sound, it sounded like one of those cheap digital alarms.

“Look down, Bats.” He did and below him, lying on each of the scales were Armand Lydecker and Gunther Hardwicke, both beaten, bound and gagged, and taped on their chests were folders. On Hardwicke’s chest, the folder had the large message saying: WHITE LIES, and on Lydecker’s chest the folder read: DARK SECRETS. “So, who will it be, Bats? You wanna rip off my mask or do you save Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum before they get blown off by the wind?”

Batman, quick on his feet, went down to save the two men before they got blown off by the wind. He first went to Lydeckers, taking him under his arm, and before he could get to Hardwicke, the man was blown over at the next gust of wind.

“NO!” Batman had Lydeckers under his arm and swooped down, causing the man to faint as they freefell. With his free hand, Batman called for his jet and had it open to catch Hardwicke, and then dropped Lydeckers in before launching his grappling back to the top to see the woman had fled.

The boat.

He sees it, heading to Miagani Island. He can make it, all he needs is a good run and a jump.

Gliding with his cape, Batman flew towards the fleeing boat and when he was hovering above, he closed his arms and his cape to glide kicked Vandal off the helm. She let out a yelp of pain as she crossed over the deck. A dislocated shoulder, he guessed with how she clutched her arm close to her.

“I fucking hate that cape, I hope one day you get sucked into a plane’s propeller,” she groaned in pain.

“That’s a graphic image…”

“What, you prefer banters kept PG?”

“I don’t have time for this! Give up now – you’re obviously hurt! You need medical treatment!” Both physically and mentally, he wanted to add.

“Not until I see the end of this… no justice that Gotham can offer will ever make up for the past six years in that hell hole. You’ll find your answers soon, I just hope Batman is strong enough for both of you… Bruce.”

What? She knows his —

BOOM!

The front of the boat exploded, and right before his eyes, Vandal jumped off the yacht, disappearing into the cold waters of Gotham Harbor.

Another explosion, and before he was caught, Batman jumped off and grappled to the closest boat he could find before he froze. The explosion caught the attention of the GCPD, not long, the closest patrol units came and so did his jet.

No matter how loud the sirens were, it faded in his ears as his mind was clouded with only one thing: she knew who Batman was.

#batman #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne #gotham #dc universe #fanfiction #fanfic #dc fanfic

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ear-worthy · 2 months ago

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Bad Movies Rule Podcast: When Bad Films Produce A Good Podcast

Here's the irony surrounding podcasts about movies: 125 major films are released every year, a number that has decreased over the decades. Yet, there are tens of thousands of movie podcasts. The attraction of doing a movie podcast is easy to understand. Recording and releasing a movie podcast doesn't require a degree, certification, or even extensive knowledge of films.

The setup that has dominated this genre for years goes as such: three dudes in their 20s who were in a fraternity get together over some IPAs and try to be funny while discussing movies. Fart and tit jokes fly, and movie criticism is perhaps secondary to having a good time.

A few of the best movie podcasts include Filmspotting, hosted by Adam Kempenaar and Josh Larsen, which has produced shows since 2005, Verbal Diorama by Em, and Every Single Sci-Fi Film Ever by Ayesha Khan.

Every once in a while, however, a podcast crashes through its own trope and succeeds where others have failed. That movie podcast is Bad Movies Rule.

This excellent movie podcast began in September 2021 and has 170 episodes in the can. The show's premise - unique because it focuses on bad movies like The Razzies - foes as such: "We're a bunch of blue-collar folks that talk about all the movies that don't get enough love. We give out awards to each film and try to determine whether they are actually bad, good-bad, or straight-up good! We hope you will enjoy being part of our group and hanging out with us." This twist on a familiar trope usually separates a podcast from the crowded podverse. Bad Movies Rule is a solid example that found a unique premise and executed its essence with superb discipline. The podcasting team of Bad Movies Rule continues: "We are a group of friends and filmmakers who started a sketch comedy group back in 2005 in Chicago. "That eventually turned into a string of independent movies from 2006 to 2010. We approach talking about films from the standpoint of having made them (on a much smaller scale), and can commiserate with some of the challenges. Bottom line - we love movies, and many of the movies we love wouldn't be called good by the common arbiters of quality (critics/award shows). "We've all gone on and started families, but this podcast became a way to get the band back together and bring in some new friends as well." Understanding who's talking during an episode is a problem except for the most faithful. I listened to ten episodes and was still a bit fuzzy on the shifting lineup. Apparently, the podcast has James Hauser, Joe Goratowski, TWO Ryans - Mattila and Mueller, somebody named Bob, and the lone female named Jen.

Despite the musical chairs hosting situation, the group mesh well together with minimal talking over one another, and each person is free to display their comedy chops, film analysis acumen, and social commentary. Let's face it. Dissecting any form of art that's bad is much more fun than, say, trying to define the genius of the Mona Lisa or a great film like Rear Window by Alfred Hitchcock. The format of the show is simple yet effective. The team's chosen bad movie is dissected scene by scene, with plenty of comedic interludes and caustic comments throughout the scene-by-scene review of the film. At the end of the episode, the team gives out awards for overacting, bad acting, and underrated performances with names for actors that exemplify that skill. For example, the bad acting award is named for Steven Seagal, who, I agree, maybe one of the worst actors of all time. Can we also add Chuck Norris to that list? Some of my favorite episodes include the January 2, 2024, show about Jaws 2. In the episode, the co-hosts imagine what the film would be like if Arnold Schwarzenegger played one of the teens trapped in the raft and in danger of becoming a shark snack. With their talents on full display, all the co-hosts break out their "Arn-old" impersonations, and, as TV Guide used to write, hilarity ensued. In the Tremors 3 episode on December 22, 2023, the co-hosts ridicule the silly six million-dollar budget, which the producers seemingly wasted on a few special effects, as the co-hosts poke copious holes in the ludicrous plot and reuse of the footage from earlier films in the franchise to save money. The episode from March 2023 on the 1986 film Cobra with Sylvester Stallone is a can't-miss. It's Stallone with a matchstick in his mouth, which doesn't help his muddled diction and sunglasses that he wears day and night. In a welcome departure in January 2024, the show actually reviewed an excellent movie—Predator —which was a special preview of the first episode of their Patreon-exclusive show, Good Movies Rule, which originally aired on June 1st, 2023. What I like about this movie podcast include:

The co-hosts have a genuine affection for one another

Unlike some movie podcasts, the co-hosts raise the level of wit and humor above that of the middle-school level.3. The co-hosts invest their time in studying and assessing these bad films and explaining why they are so bad.

The show had a "good nose" for bad films that were ripe for the peeling.

The awards they give out for acting in these flicks are both silly and well-scrutinized. Plus, making fun of Putin's buddy, Seagal, the actor, is deliciously satisfying. What I also like about the show is that the hosts do not take themselves too seriously. This comment is on their website." From the beginning, we've been very honest about the quality of our show. You can listen….but it's not good" Check out Bad Movies Rule. The movies are often so bad, and the podcast is so good.

#podcast #movies #movie review #comedy

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hintofelation99 · 3 years ago

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Whenever they get mad at Bruce they all go to Jason’s house and end up building a pillow fort just to make him jealous. This totally happens

Oh totally, and they make a show of checking IDs at the the door. If Bruce tries to come they check his ID and turn him away giving him one off two answers:

Not on the list

Too old

They love giving him this one when he knows that Alfred’s already in the fort.

This tradition started when Dick was a kid. One day he was really upset with Bruce so he made a pillow fort in the foyer and banned Bruce from entering. Surprisingly Alfred backed him up on it and didn’t let Bruce into the foyer. Because of this Bruce could only use the back/side door(s). Which isn’t bad, but it is a constant reminder that there’s a vengeful little gremlin in the house just itching to ruin your day. While Dick was executing a militant occupation of the foyer he started to invite others to join him. First he invited Alfred, then he invited Wally, then he invited Clark, then Diana, then Oliver, and so on until the entire Justice League was camped out in the foyer of Wayne Manor. Eventually Alfred put an end to this. The pillow fort was put away, Bruce apologized, and the JL thanked Dick for being a good host. And that was that.

Until it wasn’t.

A few months later there was another fight and another fort, this time in a guest room. It becomes a cycle that continued until Dick moved out and made Blüdhaven his new pillow fort (except instead of pillows and blankets he had a barren, desolate apartment). And that’s the, no more passive aggressive pillow forts. Right? Well… no.

One day Jason accidentally breaks an expensive vase, he’s terrified that Bruce will be mad, that he’ll act like Willis. So he runs. He runs away to the only person he knows who can keep him safe from Batman, he runs to Dick. In typical Jason fashion he tries to play tough, act like he’s not scared, but Dick sees through the act. Of course Dick doesn’t say anything, he lets Jason keep his mask of bravery. And he does this the only way he knows how, by making a fort. Together he Jason build a safe space where no one can hurt them and they spend the entire night there. Eventually Dick texts Bruce and Alfred and tells them what’s going on. The next morning Bruce is asleep on the floor outside Dick’s apartment. Waiting for Jason to feel safe enough to come home. After a long talk and a lot of encouragement Jason feels safe again. It’s an eye opening experience but it brings them all closer together, especially Jason and Dick. Jason will always think of it as the night that he and Dick became brothers. But more importantly it was the night that Jason learned the art of the pillow fort.

After Jason died Dick stopped making pillow forts. He was an adult with an apartment to escape to he didn’t need to build an escape anymore. And besides, the one person he wanted to build with was gone. It was pointless. Then one day he met the kid without a childhood, he met the independent and much too mature Tim Drake. At first Dick would just do silly and childish things, encourage Tim to act his age.

One day Tim seems upset. His parents extended their trip, he screwed up a case, and he fell asleep during a history test. Bruce is pissed about the case and test so he benches Robin, aka Tim’s one escape from his empty house. As Tim’s leaving to go spend another night alone he passes Dick, instantly Dick picks up on Tim’s mood. So, instead of going to help Bruce, he goes to his brother. He and Tim go back to Drake Manor and build a huge pillow fort. They spend the entire night talking, sharing stories, eating snacks, etc. By the next morning the two feel much closer and Tim feels lighter. Once again pillow forts become a tradition.

Later Tim will introduce Cass to pillow forts, Steph excitedly helps. Then Steph and Dick teach Damian. Then Tim reintroduces Jason to pillow forts. One day Dick even sees Damian teaching Duke the best fort building techniques. And suddenly Bruce had a gaggle of children who build passive aggressive pillow forts instead of actually addressing their emotional issues.

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emptymasks · 3 years ago

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It’s finally happening! After saying I wanted to do this for months, I’m finally going to be hosting streams for non-English language musicals. Every one of these musicals has English subtitles on (apart from a couple that are in English). I have a little FAQ here about the streams, but essentially anyone is welcome to join, you don’t have to know anything about musicals or have interacted with me before, and there is a text chat you can take part in if you want but there’s no pressure to.

This is the link to the room: https://kosmi.app/nrs5nx. It is open now and will continue to be open, so please don’t misbehave in there between streams. You don’t need to make an account to join, but it would be best to do so if you want to join in the chat as without an account you’ll just appear as ‘anonymous’ and several anons will make the chat confusing. There may be music playing when you join because I’ve set up a little playlist to play if anyone shows up to the stream early you can just chill for a bit with me and some music.

I’ll likely start the video up to 10 minutes after the scheduled time for anyone who is just setting things up or slightly late, but I won’t be hanging around for people for ages. Once the stream starts I will stop it in the intermission for 10 or so minutes for people to get snacks or drinks or toilet breaks. I’ll get everyone to check in when they come back and once everyone seems to be back I’ll start act 2, sorry in advance if I start act 2 and you’re not back yet, it’s hard to keep track of everyone if there’s a fair amount of people. You can still join in at any time during the stream, the room will not be closing once the video starts, I just won’t be rewinding the video for you.

I have seen a number of these musicals before and some are my favourite musicals, but I haven’t seen a lot of them before, so I can’t speak as to the quality of some of them, but at least a good amount of them I would recommend. Almost all of these are original non-English language musicals, I did put a couple of productions of Jesus Christ Superstar in here that I love and haven’t had the chance to watch all the way through yet (Amstetten Austria 2005 which is still performed in English, and 2014 Sweden). (And I definitely didn’t just add them because I love Drew Sarich and him as Judas in Amstetten 2005 and I think he’s amazing and my favourite Judas and I just want other people to fall in love with him as well). I’ve also tried to put some trigger warnings down but I haven’t watched a lot of these, but the ones that I know contain anything to do with suicidal themes I have noted.

If you want more info on European musicals while I do post about them here I also run @europeanmusicals and you can check that blog out and the posts tagged with #masterlists if you want the information posts. I have this general introduction post that I am still working on remaking into a video essay for Youtube.

The streams will happen every Saturday at 11pm UK time, which changes from BST to GMT at the end of October.

Week 1: Tanz der Vampire 2011 Berlin Production

28th of August 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: German Cast: Drew Sarich (Graf von Krolock), Amelie Dobler (Sarah Chagal), Anton Zetterholm (Alfred), Veit Schafermeier (Professor Ambronsius), Kai Hüsgen (Yonie Chagal), Goele de Raedt (Magda), Marc Liebisch (Herbert von Krolock) Summary: Professor Ambronsius and his young assistant Alfred are on the hunt for vampires and stumble upon a small village. They suspect that the villagers know more about vampires than they let on, and soon discover there is a castle in the woods where the vampire Graf von Krolock and his son Herbert live. While staying at the inn, Alfred meets Sarah, the innkeeper’s daughter, her father being so overprotective that he keeps her locked in her room every day and every night. Sarah longs to escape her life and has been secretly conversing with Krolock for some time. She’s no damsel in distress, she’s attracted to him and what he offers and so she sneaks out of her home and goes to his castle. Alfred is convinced she has been kidnapped and he and the Professor go to the castle to rescue her. Things I love: Music by Jim Steinman!! Who you may better know as the song-writer of ‘Holding out for a Hero’ and ‘Totale Eclipse of the Heart). Canon lgbt characters: Graf von Krolock is very hinted at being bisexual, tries to seduce both a female and male character and mentions a past male lover, and his son Herbert is gay. And dance sequences! Amazing dance sequences!

Week 2: Elisabeth das Musical 1992 Original Vienna Production (Proshot)

4th of September 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: German TW: themes of suicide, depression, anxiety Cast: Pia Douwes (Elisabeth), Uwe Kröger (Der Tod), Ethan Freeman (Luigi Lucheni), Viktor Gernot (Franz Joseph), Andreas Bieber (Rudolf), Else Ludwig (Sophie), Christa Wettstein (Ludovika/Frau Wolf), Wolfgang Pampel (Max) Summary: The musical follows the life of the Austrian Empress Elisabeth ‘Sissi’, but with a supernatural twist. Her obsession with death grows as her mental health declines, as Death falls in love with her and tries to convince her to kill herself so they can be together. He watches her from her marriage to Kaiser Franz-Joseph in 1854 to her murder in 1989 at the hands of the Italian anarchist Luigi Lucheni. (None of that was a spoiler, you find out she dies at the end in the first minute of the musical). Things I love: Mental health: In particular both Elisabeth and Rudolf suffer from anxiety and depression. LGBT+ characters: death can be seen as genderfluid or non-binary, in the original production and vienna revival has scenes where he presents as male and later female, and the original actor has described him almost genderfluid in interviews. death aims to seduce both a female and a male character, and rudolf is shown as being bisexual.

(I’ve put both this version and the revival for the first two weeks. I love the original, I think Pia and Uwe are perfect in the roles. Every Der Tod/Death is different and Uwe plays him beautifully inhuman and mysterious and I find that lacking in some performances. However, the 2005 cast is still good and Serkan Kaya as Lucheni is the best and it has some extra songs. If you only want to watch one of these I recommend the following stream of the 2005 revival, but I’d really recommend watching both of them).

Week 3: Elisabeth das Musical 2005 Vienna Revival (Proshot)

11th of September 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: German TW: themes of suicide, depression, anxiety Cast: Maya Hakvoort (Elisabeth), Máté Kamarás (Der Tod), Serkan Kaya (Luigi Lucheni), Andre Bauer (Franz Joseph), Fritz Schmid (Rudolf), Else Ludwig (Sophie), Johann Ebert (Young Rudolf), Luzia Nistler (Ludovika/Frau Wolf), Kerstin Ibald (Gräfin Esterhazy), Sigrid Brandstetter (Helene) Summary: See earlier summary.

Week 4: Rudolf: Affaire Mayerling 2009 Vienna Production (Proshot)

18th of September 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: German TW: themes of suicide, depression, anxiety Cast: Drew Sarich (Rudolf), Lisa Antoni (Mary Vestera), Uwe Kröger (Taaffe), Carin Filipčić (Marie Gräfin Larisch), Claus Dam (Franz Joseph), Wietske van Tongeren (Stephanie), Kai Peterson (Moriz Szeps), Dennis Kozeluh (Edward, Prince of Wales), Robert D. Marx (Graf Gyula Andrássy), Sasha Di Capri (Georges Clemenceau), Martin Pasching (Wilhelm II), Kathleen Bauer (Mizzi) Summary: Based loosely on the book A Nervous Splendor: Vienna 1888-1889 by Frederic Morton. Based on the life of Rudolf, Crown Prince of Austria and his extramarital relationship with Baroness Mary Vetsera, as well as touching on his strained relationship with his father. Their deaths in 1889 at the Mayerling hunting lodge have long been believe to be the result of a murder-suicide pact, though some historians still debate this. It doesn’t include his equally strained relationship with his mother, in fact Elisabeth makes no appearanceat all.

(I thought this was fiting to put after Elisabeth as it’s about the same Rudolf, the same historical figure as who’s in Elisabeth).

Week 5:��Rebecca das Musical 2011 Stuttgart Production

25th of September 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: German Cast: Christina Patten (Ich u/s), Jan Ammann (Maxim de Winter), Pia Douwes (Mrs Danvers), Kerstin Ibald (Beatrice Lacy), Carl van Wegberg (Jack Favell u/s), Matthias Graf (Frank Crawley), Isabel Dörfler (Mrs Van Hopper), Oliver Heim (Ben), Giles (Raphael Dörr) Summary: Based on the novel of the same name by Daphne du Maurier. The second Mrs. de Winter (credited as ‘Ich’ (German for ‘I’) in the musical) falls in love with Maxim de Winter and the two quickly get married and she moves to his large estate in England, Manderly. She soon learns that all Maxim’s staff loved his first wife, Rebecca, and find her quite strange. Non more so than the housekeeper Mrs. Danvers, who’s devotion and love to her former mistress seems to go beyond that of a housekeeper, and seems to talk as if Rebecca’s ghost was in the air around them. As time progresses the nature of who Rebecca was and how she died starts to come into question.

Week 6: Notre Dame de Paris 1998 Original Paris Production (Proshot)

2nd of October 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: French TW: sexual assault Cast: Hélène Ségara (Esmeralda), Garou (Quasimodo), Daniel Lavoie (Frollo), Bruno Pelletier (Gringoire), Patrick Fiori (Phoebus), Luck Marvil (Clopin), Julie Zenatti (Fleur-de-Lys) Summary: Based on Victor Hugo’s novel The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Quasimodo, a hunchback who spends his life hidden in Notre Dame, falls in love with the bohemian girl Esmerelda, but she is in love with Phoebus, the fiance of Fleur-de-Lys. Meanwhile, Frollo, the priest of Notre-Dame, feels uncontrolled and violent desires for Esmerelda. This musical has a much darker tone and ending than the Disney one (Random fact, according to the Guinness Book of Records, had the most successful first year of any musical ever.)

Week 7: Mozart das Musical 2015 Vienna Revival (Proshot)

9th of October 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: German Cast: Oedo Kuipers (Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart), Mark Seibert (Prince-Archbishop Colloredo), Franziska Schuster (Constance Weber), Thomas Borchert (Leopold Mozart), Barbara Obermeier (Nannerl Mozart), Ana Milva Gomes (Baronin van Waldstätten), Brigitte Oelke (Cecilia Weber) Johannes Glück (Emanuel Schikaneder), Jon Geoffrey Goldsworthy (Graf Arco), Stefan Poslovski (Fridolin Weber) Summary: Based on the life of composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The musical starts with Mozart leaving the employment of Prince-Archbishop Colloredo and travelling through Europe, and focus on his relationship with his wife Constanze, his friend a collaborate Emanuel Schikaneder, his sister, his on-and-off employer Colloredo, and his deteriorating relationship with his father.

Week 8: 3 Musketiers 2003 Original Netherlands Production (Proshot)

16th of October 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: Dutch Cast: Bastiaan Ragas (D'Artagnan),Tooske Breugem (Constance), Henk Poort (Athos), Cees Geel (Porthos), Rein Kolpa (Aramis), Pia Douwes (Milady De Winter), Stanley Burleson (Cardinal Richelieu), Ellen Evers (Queen Anna), Christo van Klaveren (King Louis XIII/Theatre Leader), Bart de Vries (Lord Buckingham/D'Artagnan's Father), Ids van der Krieke (Rochefort/James) Summary: D’Artagnan wants nothing more than to be a musketeer just like his father, but his father disproves. After his father’s death, D’Artagnan decides to find his destiny and sets of to Paris, where he accidentally encounters Athos, Porthos and Aramis - three of the king’s most loyal musketeers. Meanwhile, Cardinal Richelieu plots to turn the King Louis XII and Queen Anne against each other as he wants to wipe out the Huguenots (Protestants) and keeps Milady de Winter under his thumb as a spy. D’Artagnan falls in love with Constance, the handmaiden to the Queen, and is entrusted by her with a mission that takes him to England. The two vow to see each other again. Athos tries to move on from the ghost of his past love, but perhaps she not a ghost after all.

Week 9: Jesus Christ Superstar 2005 Amstetten Production (Proshot)

23rd of October 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: English TW: suicidal themes Cast: Steven Seale (Jesus Christ), Drew Sarich (Judas Iscariot), Kudra Owens (Mary Magdalene), Rob Fowler (Pontius Pilate), Tom Tucker (Caiaphas), Eric Minsk (Annas), Pehtom Quirante (King Herod), Ronnie Vero Wagner (Simon Zealotes), Ivo Chundro (Peter) Summary:

Week 10: Dracula the Musical 2008 Graz Production (Proshot)

30th of October 11pm BST/GMT+1 Language: German Cast: Thomas Borchert (Dracula), Lyn Liechty (Mina Murray), Jesper Tydén (Jonathan Harker), Uwe Kröger (Professor Abraham van Helsing), Caroline Vasicek (Lucy Westenra), Eric Minsk (Renfield), Lucius Wolter (Arthur Holmwood), Rory Six (Dr. Jack Seward), Robert D. Marx (Quincey Morris), Marion Furtner & Stefanie Tydén & Bucky van Zijl (Dracula's brides) Summary: A retelling of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Jonathan Harker, a young lawyer from England, travels to Translvania to meet with Count Dracula. However, the Count notices a picture of Jonathan’s fiancee Mina Murray and becomes obsessed with finding the women in the picture. (Originally a Broadway musicals, but it was re-written for it’s St Gallen production and then re-written again with extra songs for the Graz production.)

Week 11: Demon Onegin / Onegin’s Demon 2016 Original St Petersburg Production

6th of November 11pm GMT (UK will have left daylight savings time) Language: russian Cast: Ivan Ozhogin (Eugene Onegin) Summary: Based on the 1837 Russian novel Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin. In 1820s St. Petersburg, Eugene Onegin is bored of his life of balls, concert and parties. When his wealthy uncle dies, leaving him a fortune and an estate, he moved to the countryside. He soon discovers this new life is not what he thought it would be, and struggles to emphathize and relate to his new friends and neighbours. He is selfish and cold and lives to regret his blasé rejection of a young woman’s love for him and his careless incitement of a fatal duel with his best friend.

Week 12: Der Graf von Monte Cristo 2009 Original Swiss Production (Proshot)

13th of November 11pm GMT Language: German Cast: Thomas Borchert (Edmond Dantès), Sophie Berner (Mercédès), Fernand, Carsten Lepper (Mondego), Christoph Goetten (Gérard von Villefort), Karim Khawatmi (Baron Danglars), Dean Welterlen (Abbé Faria), Kurt Schrepfer (Jacopo), Daniel Berini (Albert Mondego), Barbara Obermeier (Valentine de Villefort), Ava Brannan (Vuisa Vampa), André Bauer (Morrel) Summary: Based on the 1844 novel of the same name by Alexandre Dumas. Edmond Dantès is set to be happily married, but is fasley accused of treason, arrested, and imprisoned without trail on a grim island fortress. While in prison he and a fellow prisoner Abbé Faria work out that he was set up by his friend Fernand Mondego, who is secretly in love with Dantès’ fiancee, his crewmate Danglars who is jealous that Dantès got promoted over him, and the magistrate De Villefort, who sent him to prison knowing he was innocent because the true criminal was his own father. Dantès plans to escape, return home, and take his revenge.

Week 13: Mozart L’Opéra Rock 2010 Original Paris Production (Proshot)

20th of November 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Mikelangelo Loconte (Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart), Florent Mothe (Antonio Salieri), Claire Perot (Constanze Weber), Melissa Mars (Aloysia Weber), Maeva Méline (Nannerl Mozart), Solal (Leopold Mozart), Yamin Dib (Count Rosenberg), Merwan Rim (Innkeeper/Clown), Delphine Grandsart (Cäcilia Weber), Estelle Micheau (The Diva), Jocelyne Sand (Anna Maria Mozart), Mathias Jung (Colloredo/The Stranger), Patrice Maktav (Lorenzo da Ponte), Jean-Michel Meunier (Fridolin Weber/Joseph II), Marjolaine Piémont (Josepha Weber), Laurie Peret (Sophie Weber), Nuno Resende (Gottlieb Stephanie) Summary: Based on the life of composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It starts with Mozart leaving the employment of Prince-Archbishop Colloredo and travelling around Europe, just as Mozart das Musical does. However, this musical focuses more on Mozart’s time in Vienna and his relationship with fellow composer and rival Antonio Salieri, while also looking at the relationship with his wife and his father.

Week 14: Roméo et Juliette 2001 Original Paris Production (Proshot)

27th of November 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Damien Sargue (Romeo Montague), Cécilia Cara (Juliet Capulet), Tom Ross (Tybalt), Philippe D'Avilla (Mercutio), Grégori Baquet (Benvolio), Eléonore Beaulieu (Lady Montague), Isabelle Ferron (Lady Capulet), Réjane Perry (The Nurse), Sébastian El Chato (Lord Capulet), Jean Claude-Hadida (Friar Laurent), Frederic Charter (The Prince), Essaï (Paris), Serge Le Borgne (The Poet), Anne Mano (Death) Summary: Based on the Shakespeare play of the same name. An age-old fued between the Capulet and the Montague families erupts into bloodshed. A group of masked Montagues decide to show up to the Capulet’s ball, where Romeo Montague instantly calls in love with Juliet Capulet, who is due to marry her cousin Paris.

Week 15: Jesus Christ Superstar 2014 Swedish Area Tour (Proshot)

4th of December 11pm GMT Language: Swedish TW: suicidal themes Cast: Ola Salo (Jesus Christ), Peter Johansson (Judas Iscariot), Gunilla Backman (Mary Magdalene) Summary:

Week 16: The Last Trial 2016 Russian Production (Proshot)

10th of December 11pm GMT Language: Russian Cast: Evgeny Egorov (Raistlin Majere), Elena Minina (Crysania), Andrey Lobashov (Caramon Majere), Vera Zudina (Takhisis), Alexey Tolstorkorov (King-Priest), Irina Kruglova (Tika), and Anton Kruglov (Dalamar) Summary: The dark mage Raistlin Majere seeks to descend into the Abyss and overthrow his mentor, the dark goddess Takhisis, and take her place as a god. To achieve this goal, he recruits his twin brother Caramon and the innocent cleric Crysania into helping him. But when Raistlin falls in love with Crysania, his bond with Caramon begins to deteriorate, and Takhisis begins to taunt him about his shortcomings, how high of a cost is he willing to pay to achieve godhood?

Week 17: Les Dix Commandements 2001 Original Paris Production (Proshot)

18th of December 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Summary:

! Skipping two weeks as both Christmas day and News Years day land on Saturdays !

Week 18: I Am From Austria 2019 Original Vienna Production (Proshot)

8th of January 11pm GMT Language: German Cast: Iréna Flury (Emma Carter), Lukas Perman (Josi Edler), Elisabeth Engstler (Romy Edler), Andreas Steppan (Wolfgang Edler), Martin Bermoser (Richard Rattinger), Dolores Schmidinger (Elfie Schratt), Matthias Trattner (Felix Moser), Karim Ben Mansur (Pablo García), Martin Berger (Rainer Berger) Summary:

Week 19: 1789: Les amants de la Bastille 2012 Original Paris Cast (Proshot)

15th of January 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Louis Delort (Ronan), Camille Lou (Olympe), Rod Janois (Camille Desmoulins), Roxane Le Texier (Marie Antoinette), Sébastien Agius (Maximilien de Robespierre), Nathalia (Solène), Mathieu Carnot (Lazare), David Ban (Georges Jacques Danton), Yamin Dib (Auguste Ramard), Charlie Loiselier (Sonia Ben Ammar/Morgane Rouault/Elisa Bergomi/Eva Baranes), Philippe Escande (Louis XVI), Tatiana Matre (Yolande de Polignac), Guillaume Delvingt (Jacques Necker), Cyril Romoli (Charles X of France) Summary: Set in France during the rule of King Louis XVI, a found revolutionary named Ronan wants to take down Paris after his father is killed by a nobleman. When he arrives in Paris, he encounters and falls in love with Olympe, an assistant governess to the children of Marie Antoinette. But can their love endure as their classes collide and they are separated, determined to find each other again.

Week 21: Le Roi Soleil 2005 Original Paris Cast (Proshot)

22nd of January 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Summary: Based on the life of King Louis XIV of France. The musical follows Louis from when he is first consecrated King at Reims until his marriage. The musical focuses on Louis’ many relationship with Marie Mancini, an Italian emigrant without nobel birth and his fall in battle that leads his people to believe he is dead, and the fights and opposition his family, the court, and the church have to him wanting to marry someone not of nobel birth.

Week 20: Elisabeth das Musical 2002 Essen Production (Proshot)

29th of January 11pm GMT Language: German TW: themes of suicide, depression, anxiety Cast: Pia Douwes (Elisabeth), Uwe Kröger (Der Tod), Carsten Lepper (Luigi Lucheni), Andre Bauer (Franz Joseph), Jesper Tydén (Rudolf) Summary: See earlier summary.

Week 21: Roméo et Juliette 2004 Hungarian Production (Proshot)

5th of February 11pm GMT Language: Hungarian Cast: Dolhai Attila (Romeo Montague), Szinetár Dóra (Juliet Capulet), Szabó P.Szilveszter (Tybalt), Bereczki Zoltán (Mercutio), Mészáros Árpád Zsolt (Benvolio), Csengery Ottília (Lady Montague), Janza Kata (Lady Capulet), Náray Erika (The Nurse), Csuha Lajos (Lord Capulet), Földes Tamás (Friar Laurent), Németh Attila (The Prince), Homonnay Zsolt (Paris) Summary: See earlier summary.

Week 22: Elisabeth das Musical 2004 Budapest Production (Proshot)

12th of February 11pm GMT Language: Hungarian TW: themes of suicide, depression, anxiety Cast: Janza Kata (Elisabeth), Szabó P. Szilvester (Der Tod), Földes Tamás (Luigi Lucheni), Bereczki Zoltán (Franz Joseph), Dolhai Attila (Rudolf) Summary: See earlier summary.

Week 23: Roméo et Juliette 2010 Paris Revival (Proshot)

19th of February 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Damien Sargue (Romeo Montague), Joy Esther (Juliet Capulet), Tom Ross (Tybalt), John Eyzen (Mercutio), Cyril Niccolaï (Benvolio), Brigitte Venditti (Lady Montague), Stéphanie Rodrigue (Lady Capulet), Ida Gordon (The Nurse), Sébastian El Chato (Lord Capulet), Frédéric Charter (Friar Laurent), Stéphane Métro (The Prince), Arié Itah (Paris), Serge Le Borgne (The Poet) Summary: See earlier summary.

Week 24: Le Rouge et le Noir 2016 Original Paris Production (Proshot)

26th of February 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Summary: A French comedy musical based on the novel The Red and the Black by Stendhal. Set during the reign of Napoleon Bonaparte, it tells the story of Julian Sorel’s life in France’s rigid social structure that has now been restored to what it was before the French Revolution. Julian attempts to rise socially beyond his modest upbringing through a combination of talent, hard work, deception and hypocrisy.

Week 25: Cléopâtre, la dernière reine d'Égypte 2009 Original Paris Produciton

5th of March 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Summary:

Week 26: Adam et Ève: La Seconde Chance 2012 Original Paris Production

12th of March 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Summary: A retelling of Adam and Eve. Eden is a major city populated by humans. Solus is about to annonce the marriage of his daughter Lilith to Adam, a general-in-chief of the soldiers of Eden. The end of his speech is interrupted by the rebels, lead by a man called Snake, who have been driven out of the city walls by Solus’ rule. Adam and the other soldiers fight them, but Adam’s attention is captivate by one of the revels, Eve. As Adam and Lilith prepare to say their vows, the revels intervene and Eve convinces Adam to go with her. Solus and Lilith are enraged, and are determined to get Adam back and punish Eve and the other rebels.

Week 27: Ein Wenig Farbe (A Touch of Colour) Original 2018 Vienna Production

19th of March 11pm GMT Language: German Cast: Pia Douwes (Helena) Summary: A musical with only one character, Helena, a trans woman, who recounts her life.

Week 28: Artus Excalibur 2014 Original St Gallen Production Proshot

26th of March 11pm GMT Language: German Cast: Patrick Stanke (Arthur), Annemieke van Dam (Guinevere), Mark Seibert (Lancelot), Thomas Borchert (Merlin), Sabrina Weckerlin (Morgana), Alexander Bellinkx (Ector), Robert Johansson (Loth), Kevin Foster (Sir Gareth) Summary: Based on the legends of King Arthur. Uther Pendragon lusts after the beautiful Igraine and makes a deal with the wizard Merlin to magically disguise him as Igraine’s husband so he can sleep with her. Igraine becomes pregnant with Uther’s child and dies giving birth to him. Merlin names the child Arthur and takes him away to be raised by Sir Ector. In his anger, Uther violates his daughter Morgana before banishing her to a nunnery. Years later after Uther dies, Merlin places the sword Excalibur in a stone and says whoever can pull it out is the next true King of England. Arthur goes to the stone with his best friend Lancelot, and manages to pull the sword from the stone. Arthur now has to deal with suddenly being King, learning his childhood was a lie, the threat of his jealous half-sister, and falling in love and the betrayal it will bring.

Week 29: La Légende du roi Arthur 2015 Original Paris Production Proshot

2nd of April 11pm GMT Language: French Cast: Florent Mothe (Arthur), Zaho (Morgan le Fay), Camille Lou (Guinevere), Charlie Boisseau (Lancelot), Fabien Incardona (Maleagant) Summary: Based on the legends of King Arthur. The musical opens with members of nobility trying to pull Excalibur from the stone, but in the end it is Arthur, a young groom in the service of his adoptive brother, who pulls the sword free. The Kingdom turns their nose up at the idea of a King from lowly birth, but when Merlin reveals Arthur’s true lineage as the son of the last King, some refuse to accept the rule of an illegitimate royal child and declare war.

Week 30: Der Besuch der alten Dame Vienna Boot

9th of April 11pm GMT Language: German Cast: Pia Douwes (Claire Zachanassian), Uwe Kr ger (Alfred Ill), Ethan Freeman (Klaus Brandstetter) Summary: Based on the play The Visit by Friedrich Dürrenmatt. Claire Zachanassian is an enormously wealthy older woman who returns to her hometown with a terrible bargain for the townspeople. She wants them to kill the man who got her pregnant and then abandoned her. In exchange she will give them all enough money to revitalize the decrepit town.

I may find more musicals with English subtitles and more people may make and upload ones with English subtitles so just because the list ends here doesn’t mean there won’t ever be more streams after this. (There’s been 2 updates so far.)

I cannot believe how much time this is lasting?! So, if anything happens in my life that means I can’t still host streams in 6 months time please don’t get angry at me and understand I cannot see that far into the future.

If anything happens that means a stream can’t happen one week, everything will be pushed back one week. If this or anything else happens that effects this schedule I’ll post about it and tag it with ‘#emptymasks musical streams’

Taglist: @tanzderwhat @ladysapphire928 @du-gehoerst-nur-mir @into-the-stratosphere @sloanedestler @me-another-fangirl @ami-fidele @sirona-art @octaviangrey (i cant tag you, i’m guessing you have your privacy settings so people can’t tag you) @smilingwoland @the-weird-dane @ringwraith100 @kisstheghouls @ashadeintheshade @senna-things @aphaea21 @calebara @senna-things @kreepykittyreturns @gaymelie @gothic-aesthetic-gal @freshbloodandgothicism

#starting with tanz because its fun!#tanz der vampire #elisabeth das musical #mozart l'opera rock #retj #rebecca das musical #musicaledit #mozart das musical #rudolf affaire mayerling #dracula the musical #dracula das musical #3 musketiers #mytext #non english language musicals #emptymasks musical streams #european musicals

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mariska · 2 years ago

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i was in pain and overheated and bored out of my mind last night so i got very high and brought a bunch of snacks up to my bedroom and decided to watch a back to back double feature of my two separate Frankenstein and Bride Of Frankenstein vhs tapes that i have in my bedroom and first of all: awesome movies im very happy i finally got to see them in their entirety for the first time!!

and second of all. dude. my copy of 'Bride' is a much much later vhs re-release (with a very cool alternate slip case cover that i love looking at 😍) so at the beginning, maybe for the sake of similar spooky black and white horror vibes, there was this teaser trailer for 'Psycho' hosted by Alfred Hitchcock that felt like it went on for 10 mins but it was probably less because as mentioned. i was very high and also shoving chips into my mouth. but it was played very straight like a behind the scenes almost 'true crime' kinda thing where he was giving a tour of the Bates' house behind the motel and being like 'the mother's room....the kitchen....' etc etc. and the whole time the trailer is, on purpose, very minimal with like background sounds. and i am falling directly into a very obvious jump scare trap completely un-aware because of my Altered State. so im laying down just like. hypnotized by Alfred Hitchcock going on and on about each room in the house and what happened there and then hes like.

'and the bathroom....what happened here, well....you'd have to see it to believe it!' or something like that and he yanks the shower curtain back and of course Janet Leigh is there SCREAMING at the TOP OF HER LUNGS as the trailer finally does the loud orchestral string/background music from Psycho and man. that 50+ year old trailer for a movie i've seen like 10 times at least fucking GOT ME DUDE. i watched both movies with a pair of headphones plugged into my tv since it was late and i didnt want to make a bunch of noise in the house from the speakers so when they did that scream jump scare with the loud music it was like IN MY EAR LMFAO. i almost threw my bag of chips at the tv out of fear

that was a good trailer dude. fjksgsshshjssjkdfnskdh they just. they just dont get me like that with the new ones these days

#im gonna try to find it im sure its probably on youtube or something

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ur-favorite-queer-queen · 4 years ago

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Protect

For Maribat March day 18 theme protect

Master List

“DEAREST BIG BROTHER! I’M HOME!” A female shout came from the foyer of the manor.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Babs, Steph, and Cass were hanging out in one of the many rooms the manor held. Alfred had just walked in with a tray of drinks but froze at the sound of the voice.

“THE HECK!” Was shouted by the same voice followed by Damian’s voice shouting,

“WHO ARE YOU!?!?! HOW DID YOU GET IN!?!?!”

Alfred was out of the room in an instant. He was not sprinting but he might as well be with how fast he was walking. The batkids immediately followed after him.

They walked in on a sight none of them will ever forget. Literally, Jason had taken a picture. A strange woman who looked like a female, miniature version of Bruce had Damian’s precious katana and seemed to be taunting him with it.

“Miss Marinette!” Alfred called and got both the woman’s and Damian’s attention.

“Alfred!” The woman replied, running over and giving him a hug, katana still in her hand.

“Wait, Aunt Nettie?” Dick spoke up, walking over to the pair.

“Little Wing! Wow, you got so much bigger since the last time I saw you.” She responded, giving him a hug.

“Wait, wait, your Aunt Nettie?” Jason asked, crossing his arms.

“Aww, Little Blue Jay, you don’t remember me?” She shot back, crossing her arms as well.

“Blue Jay, why is that familiar?” Jason muttered to himself, not quietly enough since everyone heard him.

��Aunt Nettie, you only visited once when he was here.” Dick reminded her.

“Oh, well that will explain that. Also how many more kids did Bruce adopt? I thought it was only the 2 of you, the Drake kid, and his bio kid.” She questioned, motioning to each child she remembered.

“The only other kid he adopted is Cass, Steph and Babs are family friends.” Dick clarified.

“Babs, the first Batgirl correct?” She asked, turning to the girl in question. Everyone froze at that, this girl who was apparently Bruce’s sister knew who they were.

“It’s fine guys, she’s known since the beginning of his time as Batman.” Dick assured.

“Yep, speaking of my big brother, where is he?”

“Master Bruce is currently at a WE meeting, but he will be back in time for dinner.” Alfred answered for her.

“How come father never told us about you?” Damian voiced, glaring at her and looking like he wanted to attack her again. Probably because she still had his katana.

“I rarely visit nowadays and he’s probably still upset after last time.” Marinette smirked, like she had won some sort of battle. Noticing she still had his katana, she handed the blade back to Damian.

“Last time?” Tim hesitantly echoed.

“How about Miss Marinette shares the story in the living room? I can bring snacks.” Alfred offered, Marinette looked like she was about to say something but Alfred beat her to it, “You bond with your nieces and nephews, I will be fine.”

“Come on Marinette! You can tell them about how you helped train Bruce! Oh did you bring any kwamis with you?” Dick rambled, pulling Marinette with him into the room they were hanging out in before her appearance.

Once they were all seated Tim started the conversation, “So I’m not hallucinating, you are actually Bruce’s sister.”

“Yes, Bruce is 3 years older than me. I know that he is Batman and you guys are the bats and the birds.” She calmly responded.

“What did Dick mean by you helped train Bruce? And what is a Kwami?” Babs continued.

“Kwami are basically magical beings, kinda like gods, that are bound to jewels called miraculous. Since I’m the guardian I protect these jewels. I trained Bruce by helping my old mentor from Tibet train him.” Marinette explained.

“What happened last time? And why don’t you visit often?” Damian asked, carefully hidden curiosity in his eyes.

“Back in my first year of highschool, Bruce was very protective of me. Like very protective. No boy he didn’t approve of, which meant I could never talk to a single boy, could get within 10 feet of me without him present. Asking me out, out of the question. Pretty sure this one guy, Adam, wanted to ask me out but Bruce interrupted before he could. I never talked to him again after that. I got pretty tired of it so I signed up for the foreign exchange program and went to school in Paris.”

“Wait,” Steph interrupted, “Bruce was an overprotective brother?”

“One of the worst kinds. I’m sure if our parents were still alive he might’ve been worse than my dad.”

“What importance does this have to the questions?” Damian sneered, annoyed that he wasn’t getting any answers.

“Hold on I’m getting there. So anyways it was in my sophomore year of highschool at Paris that a supervillain attacked. He called himself Hawkmoth, he used the butterfly miraculous to transform people into his puppets by using their emotions against them. I didn’t think much of it since it didn’t concern me, my host family agreed thinking it wouldn’t last long. But when I got to my room there was a little box sitting on my desk and that’s where I found the ladybug miraculous. The most powerful miraculous besides the cat miraculous. I told Bruce, he wasn’t too happy about it, but there wasn’t much he could do. So much happened in that amount of time that I don’t think I could summarize it all before Bruce gets back but just know that in that span of time I met the current guardian. Hawkmoth gained an ally who used the peacock miraculous, Mayura. Also a miraculous that could manipulate emotions.

After I and my partner had defeated Hawkmoth and Mayura, sometime during my senior year, we revealed our identities, dated for a few months before I ended things. Then I went back home and Bruce was getting ready to go on his soul-searching journey to be trained by masters or whatever and I suggested he be trained by my mentor who was in Tibet. I went with him, we trained for a couple of months before he left. I decided to stay in Tibet to train to become the next guardian. Eventually my mentor died and gave me guardianship.

Then I returned to Gotham and Bruce had adopted Little Wing over there. So I stayed here for a while before I decided to go around the world doing guardian things. Bruce didn’t like the idea but there wasn’t much he could do. I ended up catching up with an old friend of mine on one of my travels and we started dating before I came back here. That’s when I met Little Blue Jay for the first and last time.

Before you guys had gone on patrol I tried to ask Bruce to give my boyfriend a chance but he didn’t agree. I’ve always been his little sister in his eyes, I think he couldn’t handle the fact I had grown up. Nasty words were exchanged between us and I haven’t returned since. In the end me and him didn’t work out but I couldn’t bring myself to return, until now at least.”

“Why now?” Damian immediately pressed once she finished her explanation.

“Dusuu was missing Alfred. It has been like a decade or something.” She remarked, pulling out a peacock shaped brooch.

“Didn’t you say that the peacock miraculous was evil?” Cass signed, raising an eyebrow at the brooch.

“No, I said it was used for evil. The miraculous are technically neutral, can be used for good or evil. Depends on who is wielding them.” Marinette bit back, as a flash of light emitted from the brooch. Suddenly a small floating peacock creature stood in front of Marinette.

“Is that a kwami?” Steph asked.

“Yes, this is Dusuu, the peacock kwami of emotions.”

“Hello! It’s so nice to meet you!” Dusuu chirped, “Where’s Alfred?”

“I am right here Dusuu. It is lovely to see you again.” Alfred spoke from the doorway, holding a tray of snacks and drinks.

“Alfred!” Dusuu cheered before flying over and hugging the older man.

“In all honesty Bruce doesn’t sound like the best brother.” Jason pointed out.

“I know it may seem like he’s a shitty brother, and at the time I totally thought he was and still is, but I know where he’s coming from. Bruce was always the more reserved and protective out of the 2 of us even before what happened to our parents. I think our parents' death solidified his need to protect me from anything and anyone. And we all know how horrible Bruce is at showing his emotions so I know his heart was in the right place. Plus, we’ve had years to cool off, I’m sure we can have a mature conversation now.” Marinette explained, a fond smile gracing her lips.

Faintly in the distance they heard Alfred say, “Welcome home, Master Bruce.”

“That’s my cue!” Marinette said before bolting off in the direction of the foyer.

“Alfred something’s off, what are you not telling me?” The second those words left his mouth a weight connected with his back, arms wrapped around his neck and a familiar,

“HEY BIG BRO!” Was registered by his ears.

The weight slipped off his back and as he turned around he was met with the familiar sight of his little sister. “Marinette.”

“Bruce.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“I thought-”

“That I was mad at you.”

“You didn’t visit for 10 years.”

“Life got busy.”

They stood in silence for a minute.

“I missed you.” Marinette whispered, so much different from the girl that was telling them a brief summary of her life. She seemed so much more vulnerable uttering those words than when she had revealed why she hadn’t come back in the first place.

Turns out that was the straw that broke the camel’s back as Bruce wrapped Marinette in a hug as tears slipped from his eyes. They could hear him whispering over and over again, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did all those years ago.”

It was weird for them all to see, including Dick who knew how much Marinette meant to Bruce. Bruce kept his emotions so closed up, master of the stoic face, but here he was breaking down in front of the all. Here he was crying and apologizing.

“I believe we should leave them alone for now.” Alfred spoke up heading for the dining room. They followed. Later Bruce and Marinette would join them, a little red-eyed with their cheeks tear-stained, but small smiles on their faces.

It was then that all the batkids knew that they would be seeing this ‘Aunt Nettie’ much more often.

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Look at that, I’m super late again! Nothing new, I think day 14 was a one time thing unfortunately.

I’ve seen a ton of fics where Marinette was Bruce’s older sister but what about where she’s his younger sister? Bruce would so be an overprotective older brother.

I hoped you enjoyed this! I’m planning on making a part 2 of this for ‘contest’. So stay tuned!

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #protect #little sister marinette #big brother bruce #part 2 will be contest

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kimberly-spirits13 · 5 years ago

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Batsis HC Compilation

1. Being the Artist/ Sensitive Also Kinda Scary Wayne Daughter HC (lol):

Warnings: Depression and anxiety mentions

· You were the first biological child of Bruce Wayne

· Well as far as you knew lol

· You were younger than Jason, but a few months older than Tim

· I suspect that if you were in the family business as long as Dick or so you’d have some issues

· Those would include but not be limited to depression and possible anxiety

· There would be happy days but it would still go downhill after a few days

· On the days where it was worst, everyone would pile in for family movie night

· Secretive person and would probably be quite and sarcastic

· Since you were living at the manor your entire life, you would’ve lived to see Jason’s death and it really hurt

· If you were a musician, I suspect that Alfred or Bruce would have walked in on you at the piano or something playing a terribly sad song about it or just emotions and they’d cry

· Something like the song “Beautiful Scar” by Alicia Moffet (sad one btw like omg)

· If you were a writer or an artist, just pieces describing everything symbolically

· Going back to the musician, there is a music room in the manor in my mind so I suspect that there are times where Bruce or one of your older brothers will carry you into your bedroom if they find you asleep

· You find it hard being a Wayne and all seeing as it’s like everyone around you is fake

· That led you to hanging alone a lot which concerned Bruce

· “Y/N, why don’t you go to the party you were invited to? It’s a beautiful day for one.” He said one day finding you reading in your bedroom.

You looked at him solemnly, “All my friends are fake and want me for money and clout.” “I don’t try to go out with them much if I don’t have to.” *Que protective batdad*

· The library is your home as well as the gardens

· Now public and patrol is a whole new story

· Riddler is your favorite villain because he starts good conversations

· Sometimes the villains have in fact questioned your health to your older brothers

· Riddler: So, does it concern you that Y/S/H/N seems to openly hate life or is it just me?

Nightwing: We all hate life, she just does a little bit more

Riddler: ...okkayyyyyyy

· You sometimes make very violent threats on patrol which lead to some interesting conversations in the vans back to jail

· The paps are literally scared of you

· You have given the famous Wayne glare but on level 1000, billions of times

· Very sarcastic answers to some questions

· When people on the internet come for anyone you love you shut them down asap

_______________________________________________________________________

2. Being the Business Woman

· You showed interest in the business for a while but never really total want to take over WE

· No, you wanted to leave that for Tim

· The boy deserved it anyways

· Instead you started taking extra courses in business and such in middle school and worked your way up

· While you didn’t like galas, you did try and make connections

· You went to either an Ivy Leauge or Oxford or something

· Then Wharton

· After that you were on your way

· If you already had a business it was booming but now it’s “extra booming”? idk but you get the idea

· HuGE

· Bruce was very proud and made that clear in interviews

· Your company works closely with WE

· Asking B for advice

· Paparazzi doubling down on coverage for you since now you’re bigger than ever

· Hosting you own galas

· You either have a big house and rooms for everyone or a penthouse with the same situation

_______________________________________________________________________

3. Being Bruce’s Favorite

· You have the best relationship with Bruce out of everyone

· He takes you out on father/ daughter lunch or dinner dates which is pretty fun

· He would never openly admit that you’re his favorite

· Taught you to drive

· If you ever need advice you go straight to him

· Best birthdays ever

· You go and visit him at WE and he lets you hang in the office

· There’s a secret fridge stocked with snacks

· Dad/ daughter patrol

· Read you stories as a child

· Legit might still if you ask

· You sit in his office to do homework

· Has come home to you spinning in his office chair

· Shopping sprees

· Interviews

· Very protective on patrol when it comes down to being in a ton of danger

_______________________________________________________________________

4. Being the Metahuman

· I’m thinking that you would have gotten your powers from a mission gone wrong

· It was probably involving magic or something and you were seriously injured

· I think that it would be fitting to be able to control darkness and things like shadows

· Everyone was freaked out including you

· You begged not to be sent away knowing what he thought of metas

· He promised that he wouldn’t and just had someone over that would help you

· Lots of tests at first and you kinda just lived in the Batcave for some time just incase

· After that you changed your costume a bit to fit to the power theme

· The villains were straight confused

· “Bats what happened to your kid? Why is she scarier now?” ...”it’s complicated”

· You know how in Young Justice, Robin had that creepy laugh?

· It was like that now but then shadows came out of the wall

· Everyone is pretty sure you made a few street criminals and Black Mask’s goon pee their pants

· Best Halloween fun on patrol now

· You scared Joker once

· The powers do sometimes take a darker turn and you had to learn to control that since it did come from a maliciously used magic

· “I can smell the fear off of you, clown.” You smiled and walked around him, shadows in the room, darkening your presence. “Uhhh Batsy, I don’t like this one anymore.”

· Hanging out with more Metas

· You and Duke are like best friends

· Gotta figure it out with someone am I right?

_______________________________________________________________________

5. Being the Author

· Your father does have presence everywhere, but you don’t like to think that that is the reason for your success

· I could imagine you being a true crime or just mystery writer

· Maybe even fantasy/fiction

· Jason helps you write them if you ever get stuck

· All of them go to your book signings and sometimes it’s embarrassing but also funny

· You love that they support you

· Care packages from Alfred when you’re on book tours

· There are typically also some more things tucked inside from everyone

· Staying up with Timbers

· Your room is probably really aesthetic just sayin

· Gardens and library is the beesstttttt

· Sometimes for books, you take your time on patrol and as a superhero even if you still do it as inspiration

· Everyone is like HoW Do ThEY COmE uP WiTh ThIS

· Hehe

· If you’re moved out I can imagine you have a really cool apartment or house

· Cozy and open

· *aesthetic*

· One time, Damian did a book cover for you and so since he actually wouldn’t let you pay him, you took him on tour with you

· You helped him make that his side hustle lol

· Alfred has all of your books in the library

_______________________________________________________________________

Okay so I could NOT sleep last night and was up till 6 doing this, I don’t mind adding onto it and I’ll totally take requests for this. I do hope that you guys liked this.

1K notes · View notes

bluegarners · 4 years ago

Text

“Dick has an overdose at a gala, hurt/comfort” ~ anon

~oOo~

He forgot to take his meds this morning.

Dick blows out a frustrated breath because that means he’s going to have to rearrange his entire cycle in order to not double dose. He always takes Zoloft in the morning with his breakfast and protein shake, and then the rest of the day goes smoothly and he can go to bed without the lingering worry of whether or not he remembered to do something. It’s an ingrained part of his routine and Dick is kicking himself for having forgotten to do it today.

The little yellow-tinted pill in his hand mocks him of his absent mindedness. The entire day had thrown him off of his usual planning, the not so gentle reminder of tonight’s charity gala for leukemia causing him to flit about in an attempt at getting his very much not used suit dry cleaned for the evening. Alfred would probably feel the need to strangle his first grandchild if Dick showed up with a wrinkled suit smelling of dust and disuse.

That wrench thrown into his day leads him to where he is now, staring down the pill in his hand and holding a glass of water in the other. He could always take his meds tomorrow so his routine wouldn’t be thrown off so drastically, but even the thought of doing so makes his hands feel clammy for skipping an entire day. He promised his psychiatrist he was going to take these things more seriously and he wanted to at least start that off by regularly taking his prescription. It had been working, so far, and Dick really didn’t want to fall into the bad habit of “skip-days”, so with one fluid motion, he was swallowing the pill and gulping down water.

Tonight was going to be fun at least. Even with his flighty day and the hassle it was doing things he should’ve done the previous week, Dick was excited to go to a gala for once. It was one of the rare occasions where Bruce had managed to convince all of his wayward children to go, and it had been far too long since Dick had spent some time with all of his siblings. He saw Damian at least once a week, Tim as well, but Jason had been a struggle to get a hold of and Cass and Duke were always busy with their own responsibilities. Not that Dick wasn’t busy as well, but in his book, there was always time for family.

Dick walks out of the bathroom, feeling slightly more pleased with himself for following through with his promise, and quickly walks to the garage where most of the family had already gathered. Had it not been for the fact that Cass and Duke happened to be staying at the Manor that week, Dick would have driven by himself to the banquet hall, but as it were, he was going to make every effort possible to squeeze in as much time as he could to be with his brothers and sister.

A slight problem arose though, as fitting eight total people into one car, driver included, was a tight fit. However, living with a billionaire had numerous perks, one of which being that they could choose from a variety of overly expensive cars and limousines and tonight, Alfred had chosen a classy black limo with leather seats and a cooler filled with bite-size cucumber sandwiches and bottled waters because, “In all of the many years of hosting galas, the Bestout family has yet to figure out how to properly serve a banquet.”

Slipping into the passenger seats, Dick was slightly giddy at the sight of both Damian and Duke already munching on a few of the snacks Alfred had prepared, Tim typing away on his phone and Cass curiously peering over his shoulder. They all looked dashing in their respective suits, and Dick reached out to lightly pat the head of the youngest, careful as to not disturb the neatly gelled locks of hair.

“Richard,” Damian acknowledges, a stray piece of bread clinging firmly to the side of his mouth. Adorable. “Where is Todd and Father?”

Before Dick has a chance to reply, Bruce and Jason step into the garage, Bruce’s hand latched firmly onto the third oldest’s shoulder. Dick can hardly hide his grin as Jason huffily plops down into the seat next to him, obviously still miffed at being forced to go to the gala. Bruce follows shortly after, taking his place besides Cass and in front of Dick, reaching into the cooler as well to retrieve a sandwich.

“Shall we proceed, sir?” Alfred calls from the front, the small window dividing the driver from the passengers a perfect view of the butler’s unimpressed eyebrows. “Or should we wait until the gala has ended to arrive?”

“Yes please. Sorry, Alfred.”

With that, they roll out of the Wayne Manor grounds and begin the short drive to the Bestout Charity Auction. Dick, personally, had no money to bid with and no intention to do so at all, but Bruce’s pockets went deep and they had already planned on what pieces to bid on and who to out-bid. Tim had made the bet that their “rivals” would attempt to out-bid the Waynes this year, and Tim was nothing but prideful on keeping the Wayne name free of that sort of blasphemy. He had done the math, was probably reviewing it on his phone at the moment, and had estimated that they could easily bid away about seven million dollars on a singular piece tonight if things went according to plan.

Money. Old money at that.

He feels a small tap on his shin then, and looks over to where Cass is gazing at him. She quirks her eyebrow, holding out her right palm and twisting her left middle finger against it. He nods, giving her two thumbs up and saying, “I remembered, don’t worry.”

She smiles, satisfied, before going back over to whatever Tim was doing on his phone. The rest of the ride is mostly silent, Dick basking in the presence of his family, until they finally pull up to the entrance. They are precisely thirty minutes late, fashionably so, and Jason is the first one to exit, followed then by Bruce, Cass, Tim, Duke, Damian, and lastly Dick.

Immediately, they are met with the flashing of numerous cameras, a couple shouting out questions or beckoning them to look their way for a good shot. Bruce indulges in a few of the requests, stopping for a few seconds, before hurrying up the steps, his many children following just as quickly behind. Entering, they are greeted with a high vaulted ceiling with a singular ornate chandelier hanging down as the centerpiece and a few other light fixtures to highlight the entrance.

Despite the initial grandeur, the charity gala is relaxed. Formal casual wear was allowed and encouraged upon, which basically meant one didn’t need to come dressed like they were meeting the Queen of England and could come in simple slacks and dress shirt, and for this reason and this reason alone is how Bruce managed to convince six of his children to attend. No one liked galas. Well, no one except Duke who was highly fascinated with how the rich and prim lived compared to the grittiness of Wayne Manor.

As Alfred had lamented about, the Wayne family was late, perhaps an hour or so from the initial invitation arrival time, and all eyes were on them as they entered the banquet hall. Cocktail hour had just begun, and it was a matter of moments before a chorus of simpering, “Brucie! Over here!” began and Jason and Duke disappeared to look for the bar. Tim meandered off to find a few familiar faces, and Dick, Damian, and Cass were left standing near the entrance.

For a second, Dick regrets his decision not to force himself to eat one of the cucumber sandwiches Alfred had prepared as his stomach rolled around unpleasantly. His medication didn’t require a meal to be eaten with it, but again, he had been thrown off his normal routine and that usually included some food.

He feels a nudge into his side and glances over to where Cass is smirking at him.

“I know, I know,” Dick groans, slumping slightly. “Alfred warned us, but you know I don’t like cucumbers. I’m just- yeah, I’m just going to go find something that doesn’t look like old cheese. Either of you coming with me?”

He extends a hand pleasantly, bowing over and winking at both of his youngest brother and sister.

“Unlike you,” Damian drawls, absently checking his fingernails, “I took sound advice when it was given.” He glances upwards, eyes narrowing as he finds his target. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it would appear that Father is in need of assistance.”

Dick watches the youngest Wayne march astutely towards a struggling Bruce Wayne, broadcasting a small amount of distress as yet another slightly drunk (already?) woman leers at him through false lashes.

“Cass?” Dick asks hopefully, turning back towards her. “My most wonderful and elegant sister, will you come with me?” In truth, Dick was the tiniest bit hesitant to go over to the buffet style table by himself, no doubt going to be swarmed by the Gotham elite youth once he was alone and miserable once he took in the shallow presentation of foods.

But his dear sister is nothing but sweet and ruthless, smiling prettily at him before walking off in the other direction, most likely to find Jason and Duke at the bar. Cass didn’t like alcohol, but she knew how to order a Shirley Temple all the same.

With a sigh, Dick begins the trudge over to the long horderves table, snagging a flute of strong smelling champagne on the way. He didn’t really like champagne truthfully, more of a white wine kind of guy himself, but it gave off the impression that he was relaxed and confident even if he was mentally preparing himself for food disappointment. He’s right, well, Alfred is right, as his gaze travels mournfully over the plain and overly dressed finger foods. Was it really just that impossible to serve a nice plate of cheese and crackers with some fruit? What in the world was foie gras entier anyway?

A hand slides smoothly over his shoulder as Dick contemplates if the horderve is an organ or not, and he steadily turns his head to meet artfully decorated brown eyes.

“Well if it isn’t the elusive Richard Grayson,” the woman says, letting her hand fall from his shoulder to his elbow. “It’s been a while since I saw you at one of these.”

Another hand brushes against his shoulder, and he turns his head the other way to meet the eyes of the exact same woman on his other arm.

“Tristy is right,” the other, same?, woman coos. “It’s been too long, Richard. Tell me, where have you been? You haven’t been avoiding us, right?”

It finally clicks into place as Dick looks back and forth between the identical women. The Thoreau sisters. Identical twins. Heiresses to the Thoreau Parts manufacturing company. Their entire net worth was close to five hundred million and the sisters were notorious, perhaps even more so than “Brucie Wanye”, for bringing home exploits and one night stands.

“Good evening ladies,” Dick says simply, dialing back the charm he usually reserved for the elderly elite of Gotham. “It’s been awhile since I last came to one of these auctions, but tonight is for a good cause. Of course I would come.”

The two sisters titter lightly, hands flying up to cover their arched grins. “Oh yes,” maybe Tristy says. “The auction is surely going to be a smashing success. At least with a man like your father bidding tonight, and that man is nothing but generous.”

The sudden innuendos leave Dick feeling slightly off footed. It truly has been too long since he attended one of these galas, and he’s out of practice at maneuvering around seduction attempts such as these.

“Oh hush,” the other sister snaps, tapping Dick’s bicep twice to get his attention back to her. “Do you plan on bidding at all?” she asks charmingly. “My sister and I have our eyes on a sculpture by Vasconcelos and it would break our hearts if your father also had plans to bid for it.”

Dick shakes his head, bringing his flute of champagne upwards to take a sip. He decides he does not like the taste of carbonation. “No, I can’t say I have plans to bid on any one particular item tonight. However, I can promise you that Bruce has no plans to bid on any sculptures, so you will find no grievances with him I hope.”

“How gracious,” possibly Tristy practically moans, leaning into Dick’s side. “You know,” she whispers, eyes flicking back and forth in mirth, “If you’re not planning on bidding at all, there’s a private study somewhere. Once the bidding begins, we can just,” she leans in closer, practically licking Dick’s ear, “get out of here.”

A cold feeling begins to settle in Dick’s gut, his composure quickly melting away as he struggles to keep on a pleasant smile. Has it always been like this? When was the last time he actually attended a gala? He can’t remember being harassed like this, much less so soon. They just arrived and already someone’s trying to take him to bed. Is that all he looks good for? Why is it so hard to just have a normal conversation? This is supposed to be a family day, and yet here he is, separating himself from them all because he can’t control his cravings and really this harassment should’ve been expected because Gotham didn’t call Richard Grayson Bruce’s imprint because he had to get the “playboy” tendencies from somewhere if not genetics, so really he’s fine and just making a big deal out of nothing.

This was normal. Right.

Lost in his head, Dick realizes too late that it’s been far too long since he’s said something aloud. Tristy, or whoever it is that’s to his right, is frowning at him, a mean looking sneer adorning red lips. The other sister, he just doesn’t know her, is looking at him with something akin to disgust as well though slightly better hidden.

He clears his throat. Clears it again. His throat feels funny. “Look, ladies,” Dick says, “I’m flattered, I really am, but I’m not looking for anything right now. I’m sure you’re both lovely, but I think I’m going to… yeah, I’m just going to go find Bruce. You know how he gets when he’s had more than a couple glasses,” he tries to chuckle, tapering off when neither of the women join in. “Have a good evening.”

Extracting himself from their manicured hands is more difficult than he thought it would be, their insistence at keeping him cornered to the table making him more nervous. The ice in his stomach pinches unpleasantly, and Dick finishes off the champagne to place the little flute on a passing waiter’s stand.

The lingering stench of overpriced perfume has him feeling nauseous, and Dick looks around for one of his family members. He spots Jason and Duke still at the bar, seemingly content at just sipping and observing, and Dick makes the move to walk towards them when the room tilts slightly. He stumbles, hardly even that, and rights himself in less than a second. He looks down, frowning when he sees nothing that might’ve tripped him up.

“Richard,” a voice calls out, and Dick turns to see Damian making his way towards him, Bruce trailing slightly behind.

“Hey, Dami!” Dick gushes, his unease melting away at the familiar faces. “Meet anyone interesting yet?”

The boy huffs, crossing his arms. “If by interesting you mean intelligent, then no. Not a single person here is capable of holding a conversation before spouting some nonsense. It should be considered cruel.”

“I hear you there,” Dick sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Is it just him, or is the banquet hall extremely bright? The Bestout’s should consider investing less in chandeliers and more in good food. “Did any of the art pieces catch your interest?”

Another huff. “No,” Damian replies. “Modern art holds no value. I find nothing special about three dots in the center of a large canvas. If anything, it is a waste of material.”

“Bruce?” Dick asks. “What about you? I just ran into the Thoreau sisters; they said they were going to bid on that, uh, what was their name again… the Vasconcelos sculpture.”

Bruce grimaces at the company name, looking more closely at Dick. “No, nothing was to my taste. Alfred has asked me to bid on a tea set supposedly owned by Queen Anne. It is… vintage?”

Dick nods, willing himself not to laugh at Bruce’s idea of something vintage. “Nice. I’m sure Alfred will be excited to add it to his collection. Have, uh, any of you guys seen Tim or Cass at all?”

“Cain left,” Damian says simply. “Brown invaded the gala about ten minutes ago and coerced her into ditching. Drake is most likely stuffing himself into a corner.”

“Oh.”

A waiter walks by just then and Dick snags another champagne glass. He takes two sips, feeling some of his anxiety from earlier rise up again. Tonight was supposed to be a family night, or at least one as close to it as it could get, and already Cass had left? He doesn’t blame her for wanting to be with Steph, he remembers how infatuated he was in his first relationship, but he already felt the tell-tale tug in his heart that told him he was lonely.

“I’m going to go find Tim,” he announces, patting the top of Damian’s head and giving a squeeze to Bruce’s left shoulder. “Have fun you two.”

They wave him off with little else, and Dick looks around the hall for the middle child. As his gaze travels from table to table, he can’t help but feel as if all eyes are on him, catching his gaze with each flicker. Taking deep breaths, Dick takes another sip, meandering slowly around the perimeters of the already established social groups. He catches bits and pieces of conversations, most if not all having nothing to do with tonight’s auction, and Dick begins to tap his fingers restlessly against his outer thigh. Why does he feel so anxious?

Someone bumps into him rather rudely, causing Dick to stumble again, but when he turns around to semi-glare, there is no one around him. The lights in the hall are blinding and Dick can feel a headache begin to form at the front of his skull. His breaths are suddenly very loud and Dick becomes all too aware of just how many people there are. At least two hundred and all of them seemed to be staring at Dick.

Someone else brushes up behind him, and Dick quickly turns around to confront them, because come on, that’s not a nice thing to do. There is no one there though. No one was even near enough to touch him and Dick feels sweat begin to trickle down the back of his suit.

What was he doing again? Right, right, searching for Tim. Tim was always calm, he’s sure he’s got to be around here somewhere.

“Richard,” a voice sing-songs to him. “Oh, Kathy, he’s right over here. My, my, thought you could give us the slip, hm?”

His grip on the glass of champagne tightens slightly as one of the Thoreau sisters slithers her way in front of him. He didn’t want to talk to them. He wasn’t feeling well. They didn’t make him feel comfortable and Dick really needed to find Tim.

“You don’t look so good, Richy,” Tristy, Kathy, whoever, whispered. “Are you feeling alright? Had one too many to drink it looks like.”

The other sister laughs. “We only left you for twenty minutes. Missed us that terribly? How sweet.”

One of them grips his bicep again. Turns his chin so he’s facing her head on. The other one falls out of his line of sight. He thinks he’s seeing triple though because the twin in front of him is slowly separating into two, faces flickering back and forth and failing to align with the center.

“Maybe he’s tired,” she says, voice distorted and far away. “Finish that off and we’ll all go find somewhere to lay down, hm? Somewhere… private.”

The flute of alcohol is pressed gently into his lips and Dick automatically begins to drink from it, the liquid sliding down easily. It leaves a sour taste on his tongue, and huh, that’s weird. It didn’t taste like that before. He really does hate the taste of carbonation.

Hands on either side of him push him forward, his feet dragging and shoes all of a sudden much too big for his feet. The glass is taken from his trembling grip, a whisper of “Wouldn’t want you to drop that,” letting his decisions elude him. The smell of sharp chemicals assault his nose and Dick feels his stomach roll. He thinks he might vomit.

Even though he keeps his face to the floor, the bodies beside him guiding the way, Dick can feel the stares, the eyes, that bore into him. The pressure leaves his chest heavy, feeling as though he’s slowly sinking into the red carpet below. The red shifts and melts like wax beneath his polished shoes, pooling and coiling around his shoelaces and reaching towards his ankles.

It smells like blood.

The red turns into a dark gray suddenly, fuzz turning into slick tile and the hands that gripped onto his biceps earlier now trail towards the hemline of his pants. He jerks, neck craning upwards and hands fumbling to push the invasion away. He’s simply shushed though, hands restraining his own and Dick feels like he’s been shot when he realizes he can’t get his legs to move properly.

He’s shoved towards an open door way, tripping and falling over himself as any semblance of coordination leaves him. It’s brighter in this room but everything keeps swirling together. Vertigo slowly weaves its way around his head and soon, there is no difference from up and down, left and right, sister and sister.

Nails dig into the sides of his cheeks in a harsh and fervent grip, and Dick feels like throwing up when he sees nothing but the swirling vortex of a flesh colored void. It spins faster and faster and Dick has to look away, but the sight of himself in a mirror is no better because that has to be him that’s standing there pressed into a stone counter but at the same time it can’t because he left that all behind.

He left Spyral behind. He escaped. He was home. They couldn’t control him anymore and yet- and yet.

Another blank flesh void stares back at his turned head. No visible features to recognize himself by. A smooth canvas that twists and churns and leaves him faceless. He is nothing once more.

Something breaks inside of him and Dick feels a sob erupt from out of his chest. He’s just so confused and scared and lost and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He doesn’t want to go back to Spyral. His mission was completed, he had done everything Bruce asked of him and even after enduring throughout all of that, Dick feels that desperate yearning for his father.

He wants Bruce. He’s so scared. His head hurts. He can’t feel his legs anymore. Everything keeps colliding into everything and he can’t even recognize his own cries because even that sounds like it’s a lifetime away, all the way back in Gotham, but instead he’s stuck here and he doesn’t even know where here is anymore because Agent 37 isn’t allowed to ask questions, that’s not his place, that’s not his place, he’s not allowed-

“Wow,” a voice breathes into his ear, “you’re even pretty when you cry.”

And Dick doesn’t really know when it started raining, but his face is wet and the person is right, he is crying and it’s raining so hard and he doesn’t completely understand why or how but he does know he doesn’t like the hands that keep fumbling with his belt. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want her. He should say something. He should say something, but his mouth won’t move and he just lays there and takes it because that’s all he’s good for right? That’s why Barbara didn’t want to see him anymore because he’s just an awful person that just takes it and please, please, please stop.

“Are you afraid of spiders, Richard?”

Of course he’s afraid. He’s terrified. He’s even more afraid of the dark and the dark contains many, many scary things. Things like a calloused hand reaching out to smother him, to choke him, to kill him. Things like a bright red pill shoved into his mouth, things like a bomb attached to his heart, things like the heat of the metal on his back as the chaos consumed him, destined to watch, destined to die, destined to be smothered over and over again. Bright red pill. Rough hands. Bright red lips. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

Dick vomits.

~oOo~

“Mister Wayne?”

Bruce looks up from his phone, a smartly dressed waitress staring at him. “Yes?”

She holds out a folded napkin to him and Bruce takes it from her hesitantly. He stares at it before glancing back up. “I don’t understand.”

The woman gives him a half-hearted shrug. “I was only told to give it to you, sir. I don’t know what it is. Excuse me.”

With that, the waitress turns back around into the throng of people that wave her over for drinks. Bruce looks down at the napkin, putting away his phone quickly as he unfolds it. It’s a note, hastily written in smudged black, similar to a crayon. Perhaps some sort of makeup applicator. Bruce doesn’t give it much thought though as he reads,

Find your son.

And isn’t that a great way to get his heart to stop? His first instinct is to look wildly about and start dashing around in search of his, holy shit, five sons he brought along to the gala. Bruce stops though, forces himself to take three deep breaths and count to five, before calmly beginning to make his way to the entrance of the banquet hall. It was easier to see everyone from that position and it was crowded enough so that he wouldn’t immediately be singled out once again.

As he walks, he stares at the napkin note, trying to decipher who exactly sent it. It was a woman’s hand writing, he’s sure of it, but the intentions behind it could be anything. Ransom? A threat? A simple warning that one of his sons was much too drunk to care about public decency? Either way, being passed an anonymous note wasn’t good and Bruce felt his gut clench in apprehension. He tries to think of everything that’s happened throughout the night so far.

Damian had remained mostly by his side, a good defense to have on hand whenever one of the socialites got a bit too grabby. Jason and Duke had remained a pair by the bar from what he'd heard, challenging other young adults into dart games and shot pyramids. Tim had steadily been making his way through old friends, chatting with a few and periodically texting Bruce to ask what the bidding was at.

(Alfred will be happy to know that he now had one more tea set to add to his collection)

And Dick… well, Bruce honestly hadn’t been keeping secure tabs on him. He’s trying to be a better father to adult Dick Grayson. Privacy and space had been something Dick had last emphasized on, the “mother-henning” as Dick liked to call it, overbearing and un-welcomed. When his eldest had mentioned his run in with the Thoreau sisters, Bruce had been concerned and looked for signs that his son was uncomfortable or something worse. As usual though, Dick had merely grinned and carried on like it was nothing and perhaps that was all it had been at the time but now with this note, this damn napkin note in his hands, Bruce could feel the suspicion slide into him like water.

“Father?”

A hand tugs on his right sleeve and Bruce finds himself sighing in relief as his youngest appears in front of him. Scrutinizing his son, Bruce finds nothing obviously wrong with him, hair still perfectly in place and a permanent frown etched upon his brow. His suit is still stain, spill, and wrinkle free and Bruce clasps a heavy hand onto Damian’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asks, keeping eye contact.

“Of course,” is Damian’s curt reply. “What happened?”

Wordlessly, Bruce hands over the napkin to him, watching as his son’s frown deepens. “I shall gather Todd and Thomas. I will return shortly.”

Damian’s small figure disappears into the crowd easily, leaving Bruce standing by himself at the front of the hall. Pulling out his phone again, he quickly types out, Come to the front of the hall. Urgent, and sends it to Tim. He types out the same message and sends it to Dick as well and contends himself for the wait by tapping his foot against the red carpet.

A minute barely passes before he spots Jason’s broad figure moving through the crowd, and the tension in his gut only increases as he counts the heads moving towards him. One, two, three, four…

“What’s going on?” Duke asks as the four boys gather closely. “Are we, uh, needed?”

Bruce shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Damian showed you the note?”

“What note?” Tim demands. “Bruce, what’s going on? Is something- oh,” he trails off, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as he reads the scribbled napkin. Tim turns his gaze to begin counting, and the same realization dawns upon him as he finally looks at Bruce’s grim face. “Where’s Dick?”

“I’ll call him,” Jason is quick to offer, pulling out his cellphone. He dials and holds it to his ear as the rest of the family watches. “Voicemail,” he grimaces, staring down at the device as if it had personally offended him.

“We’ll split up. Jason, you’re with me. Duke, Tim, Damian, you three will go towards the east end, Jason and I will take west. Keep your phones on,” Bruce orders, checking his own ringer as he does so. “Ask around to see if anyone has seen Dick. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, so remain cautious. Understood?”

A chorus of “yes” is the motivator for the split and like liquid, they flow back into the crowd seamlessly.

~oOo~

He’s alone.

Or, Dick thinks he is. Well, now that he’s thought about it, Agent 37 is never alone. There’s always someone there, watching him, waiting for him to fail. But Nightwing works alone in Bludhaven. He’s discovered that he doesn’t like team ups much. Partnerships always end in the rain and he doesn’t like the rain. He doesn’t mind it so much when Batman’s cape is shielding his face but the rain is still pelting his cheeks and it smells like acid.

It smells like acid and metal. It sounds like endless whirring too, constant noise when all he wants right now is quiet. He wants to reach out and smother whatever it is that’s making the noise but his limbs are gone, he can’t move, he’s been restrained once again and that damn red pill, or maybe it’s tinted yellow this time, he can’t be sure, there are just so many pills, so many pills, it’s all keeping him down and dead.

He feels his stomach convulsing again and he gags, unsure if anything actually comes out. There’s red on the floor, it always comes back to red, why red, and it gathers around in his vision, slick along the white void below him. A part of Dick is glad he can’t move because he fears that if he were to even breathe, the void below would capture him and turn him white and twist his nothingness into something even less than all of it.

His lungs stutter and his eyes roll back into his head for a moment. For a brief second, he is gone in the bliss of blackness. It’s not for long though because the need to cough erupts out of him and he has to open his eyes and see what plague is clawing its way from his mouth. His jerking disturbs the void and Dick can feel the blood in his veins freeze because he’s not supposed to move. He’s not supposed to make a single sound or else it would get him but he’s just so dumb, he’s just so incompetent, and now the void knows he’s here, now the void is going to get him and he’s so scared.

He blinks four times. He counts in his head. Two, five, one, two. Dick doesn’t think that’s right. He isn’t sure.

The void is angry though. He can tell in the way the ground shakes and the colors scream at him. He wants to move away and cover his ears but his arms don’t exist anymore, how could he forget, how could he forget, and he feels his eyes burning like he’s on fire and his brain is also screaming at him now and there are hands on his shoulders and no, no, stop, please stop, he doesn’t want this, he never wanted any of this. He’s sorry. He’s sorry.

The void grasps him and pulls at him and Dick’s eyes are wide open and he wants to scream at the void’s face because he doesn’t know who they are, he doesn’t know where he is, and there’s no comfort in the cold, there’s no love or warmth in it’s embrace and he’s so tired and his chest hurts and he’s having trouble actually seeing anything now because he’s just scared of the dark and everything is getting quieter and doesn’t anyone have a nightlight he can use so he can fall asleep a little less scared?

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Bruce doesn’t know what exactly he was expecting when that waitress handed him a napkin. He doesn’t really know what he wanted to happen when he asked his children to split up and search for the lost one. Of course, the goal was to find the eldest, find Dick Grayson safe and sound and just doing something silly like back flips off a stairwell so Bruce could come and save him from embarrassing himself further. Okay, yes, Bruce knows exactly what he wanted to happen.

But this wasn’t it.

It wasn’t Mister Dower slyly implying that Bruce’s eldest son was a clone of “Brucie Wayne’s” habits. It wasn’t the news that the Thoreau sisters had left in a hurry. It wasn’t a bellboy directing him to a private room that had been left ajar. And it wasn’t walking into a pitch black study only to hear wet retching and rattling from the adjoining bathroom.

He’s bursting through the door before he’s had the time to process it all and he feels as if all the wind in his lungs have been knocked out because there he is. Here is Dick Grayson, his son, his eldest, convulsing, bleeding, vomiting, shaking, dying, alone.

It’s second nature, done without a thought, and Bruce is kneeling down, stripping himself of his jacket and folding it, taking Dick by the shoulders and turning him on his side and placing the folded jacket beneath his head. Dick’s eyes are rolling, unseeing, and his face twitches and jerks and it’s terrifying, and Bruce looks away to stare at his watch and counts and counts and counts.

It’s scarcely thirty seconds before the jerking stops and Dick goes stiff, like every single muscle in his body is clenched in anticipation.

“Bruce,” Jason begins, and he sounds unsure and out of place and Bruce curses at himself for having momentarily forgotten about him, “Holy shit.”

Bruce says nothing and continues to stare at his watch because he knows the seizure isn’t over, he prays it is but he knows it’s not, and Dick begins to convulse again and Bruce’s heart is beating so fast he isn’t sure if he can feel it anymore.

“The others are on their way,” Jason speaks up again. “I’m calling 911. What should I tell them?”

And usually Bruce is faster than this, better at processing, but it’s all so sudden and this is his son that’s laying in front of him, shaking and heaving in front of him, that it takes him a few seconds to come up with an answer. “Tell them,” he tries, mouth dry and god how much longer is this going to last? “Tell them that we need police and an ambulance for,” Bruce clears his throat; two minutes now, five becomes dangerous, “A possible assault and drug overdose.”

There’s lipstick smeared on Dick’s collar, his tie is undone, his belt buckle unclasped, pink indents on the sides of his jaw, lips tinted blue, and a mess of vomit splattered down his shirt. It smells sour and pungent and it’s the color of old brandy. Blood weeps from Dick’s hairline and Bruce startles himself with the thought that, had it not been for the note, Dick could’ve died and no one would have known.

No one would have known.

Finally the seizure stops and Bruce can feel his fingers trembling as he cradles his son’s head to fully rest against the tile flooring. Three minutes and fifteen seconds. Too close. Too close.

“Move! I demand to see Richard!”

“You can’t, not right now. Bruce is helping him but you have to stay out here.”

“Jason, what the hell happened to Dick?”

“Bruce thinks he got roofied. Whatever was given to him was too much.”

“Did… did anything happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Todd, I swear to you, if you do not move this instant-”

Bruce can’t focus on their conversation anymore, too entranced by the way his son breathes. They’re short, shallow gasps, like he’s panting through a straw, and Bruce reaches out a hand to rub his eldest’s upper back. He doesn’t move from his position, kneeled firmly as if in prayer, and maybe it is like a prayer because he needs a miracle right now. Bruce needs some guidance, some reassurance, and he hasn’t prayed since his parents died, but a little part of him is sighing and repeating those long forgotten words over and over again.

Abraham, Issac, and Jacob; Sarah, Rebekkah, Leah, and Rachel.

Dick does not stir from where he lays, eyes flickering behind closed lids. Bruce thinks he’s conscious, the flighty rhythm of his heart giving his blankness away, but the stillness in which his son lays allows a vine of terror to eclipse around his heart.

Grant him a r’fu-ah sh’lei-mah, a complete recovery.

His mother used to whisper prayers into his ear when he was younger and sick, fever-ridden constantly and just so tired. She would sit by his bedside, hold his hand, and pray for him in the silence of his room. Bruce was too young to understand what it meant. Too young to really grasp the concept of salvation, of hope found in religion. Now that he’s gone so long without it, Bruce thinks he still doesn’t grasp its weight, but the familiar words roll around in his head and leave the tightness in his chest with company.

But the comfort is like a blanket draped over your head when you were a child, on some level convinced it could protect you from the monsters in your closet and the kidnappers that surely tap on your window. The monsters are real though, the kidnappers are grabbing at your feet, and Bruce can feel his heart pounding away with the realization that he truly could have lost Dick. That Bruce had been in the exact same room, in the same vicinity as his eldest when he was drugged. When he was… assaulted. Possibly. Maybe. Bruce clings to those uncertainties.

And he’s got ideas. Theories. Conclusions. A list of suspects.

With those, Bruce also has punishments in mind. Vengeance. Retribution. But the situation at hand is more pressing than the thoughts that bang against his skull.

Dick’s eyes fly open, a cough that sounds more like a gag jerking his body. His arms stagger against his sides, feet kicking out with the force of his hacking, and Bruce merely lets his hands hover. He wants to touch him, to ground Dick, but the hesitation in his actions leave him barren of any sort of presence. Dick keeps coughing, getting louder and more forceful with each measly breath he manages to suck in, and his lips are beginning to turn blue and his face a bright red and Bruce doesn’t know what to do right now, doesn’t know how to help because he’s so afraid to touch him, to help him, when all he’s done tonight is ignore him and let this whole thing happen because he’s a horrible father-

“Richard, stop it!”

And then Damian is falling to his knees beside Dick’s heaving body, also fumbling for an answer and scared and all the things Bruce feels right now.

“Stop it, Richard! Stop it right now!” Damian demands, but his orders fall on deaf ears because Dick won’t stop coughing and gasping and shaking and he’s not having another seizure but that’s what it looks like and then finally, Bruce reaches out a hand and holds his eldest still, willing for something, anything, to happen to get Dick to stop.

“Son,” he implores, practically begging, “Dick, you need to calm down, okay? I know you’re scared and confused right now, but everything is going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Take a deep breath, Dick. Breathe.”

Finally, something seems to register for Dick because he’s craning his neck around, eyes wide and searching even as he continues to retch out his lungs. Bright blue eyes, beautiful and robin egg blue, catch Damian’s and Bruce can see recognition light up onto his face. The relief that Bruce had felt blossoming in his chest at the sight is quickly smothered when tears gather in Dick’s eyes, a weak sob wrenching its way in between coughs.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dick moans, delirious and broken. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“Richard, breathe,” is all Damian says, reaching out to grab at one of Dick’s flailing hands. “Please.”

Bruce doesn’t know if Dick actually understood what Damian was saying, or if he even recognized any one of his brothers that stood around him, but one moment, Dick is retching up a lung, and the next, he’s silent and holding his breath. The coughing stops but Dick is going slightly purple in the face and before Bruce, Damian, anyone can do anything to get him to open his mouth again, Dick’s eyes roll up into the back of his head and he drifts.

His head thuds softly onto the white tile just as the paramedics arrive and Bruce thinks he might need an ambulance too with how quickly his heart beats and how hot the blood in his veins feel.

The rest is a blur.

~oOo~

Many things happen in the few hours that follow.

Dick is promptly swept away on a stretcher, paramedics checking pulse count, setting up an IV, and other things that anyone hardly has the mind to pay attention to. By then, the entire banquet knew something was wrong, along with a few reporters that whipped out their cameras and began snapping pictures in earnest.

In a move that is sure to get him on the front pages, Bruce snarls at a few of the reporters, threatening them in mannerisms that suggested he might just break their obnoxious cameras. Jason follows a similar pattern, actually reaching over and knocking away one of the invasive reporters when they got too close to the ambulance, and the youngest is not far off in doing the same before he is ushered away and into a waiting private car that would escort them to the hospital Dick was being taken to.

Only Bruce had been allowed to ride in the ambulance on the way over, and the four brothers had sat in tense silence during the ten minute drive. Tim had been almost absurdly quiet during the entire ordeal, typing away at his phone and absently chewing on one of his fingernails. No one comments on the bad habit, all of them guilty of doing something in a similar fashion, and when they arrive at the entrance, Bruce meets them there where he tells them that, for now, Dick appears to be mostly fine.

His vomit and blood were being tested at the moment for a tox-screening, a toxicologist named Dr.Ruth informing them that Dick wasn’t in life-threatening danger anymore. The “anymore” bit startles them all and it is explained to them that, because Dick appeared to have eaten nothing that night and drank nothing but champagne, there was little else in his system to digest whatever drug was given to him. It all went straight into his nervous system, which is what caused the seizure.

Bruce manages to secure a larger medical room for all five of them to squeeze into and forty minutes later, Dr.Ruth returns with a clipboard in tow. Results are in.

“Mister Wayne,” she begins, making sure to keep an even gaze with the older man, “You said you believed that Richard may have been purposely drugged tonight?”

Bruce nods.

“Is Richard taking any drugs right now? Recreational or otherwise?”

The implication sends a strange stab of anger through Bruce, rising up from his seat to challenge the doctor about her accusations. “Richard has never-”

“Actually,” Tim interrupts, finally speaking, “he does.”

Bruce looks over, shock peppering his face through the way his mouth twitches and his jaw clenches.

Tim rushes to defend himself. “No, wait, what I mean is that Richard takes a prescription. He’s not doing, like, hard crack or something like that.” He holds up his phone as if it contains every single answer to life. “Cass- our sister- told me that Richard didn’t take his anxiety medication this morning. He took it before going to the banquet tonight.”

“Do you know what he was prescribed?” Dr.Ruth asks, scanning through something on one of the papers.

Tim checks his phone again. “Uh, Zoloft. 40 milligrams once a day.”

“Okay,” she hums to herself, satisfied with the answer. “That explains it then.”

She clicks her pen, setting down her clipboard and turning to face all five of them in the room. “Richard’s screening came back just a few minutes ago, but there were a few discrepancies that didn’t match up exactly. From what the labs tested, Richard was given a dosage of about 250 milligrams of ketamine, on which he overdosed, but an additional drug was also found in his blood and from what you said, young man, it would appear to be Zoloft. That medication, in addition to not eating anything and consuming some alcohol, was what caused such a bad reaction.”

She glances behind her again, checking her clipboard. “Now, Mister Wayne,” she addresses Bruce, “In your witness statement, you said that Richard appeared to be having hallucinations?”

“I don’t believe he knew we were there with him.”

Dr.Ruth nods. “Victims of large overdoses on ketamine typically experience hallucinations, similar to a bad LSD trip or otherwise. Sight and sound become warped and the person under the influence often doesn’t understand what’s going on around them.”

“What about,” Duke begins, nervous and quiet, “What about the, um, the other test? Did- Is Dick okay?”

The doctor smiles, happy to give fortunate news. “Yes, the test results came back negative. Other than a few scratch marks on his face which have been cleaned, Richard is fine.”

A collective breath releases over the room. Dick was going to be okay.

“Once the nurses have finished checking your son over, you��re free to take him home,” Dr.Ruth finishes, collecting her things. “Someone will be with you shortly to escort you to him.”

“Wait,” Jason calls out, “That’s it? You’re just going to send him away?”

The doctor looks back at him, sympathy lining her sad smile. “Well, there’s not much else we can do. Keep an eye on him, make sure he drinks plenty of fluids and try to give Richard some dry foods. If anything happens or Richard’s condition worsens at all, please bring him back and we’ll do what we can.”

And with that, Dr.Ruth opens the door and leaves.

~oOo~

The nurses tell them that Dick needs to stay for an additional hour or so, just until he’s coherent enough to answer some well-being questions and to finish the IV bags they’ve given him. All five of them have managed to cram themselves into Dick’s small room, the man in question awake but quiet. He’s coherent enough that he seems to recognize them all individually, and no longer seems to be hallucinating, but he wears a grimace that tells of discomfort. Dick has yet to say anything since waking up.

His eyes are distant, staring listlessly towards the ceiling and trailing from light to light. Bruce is sure the action is somewhat painful, but he doesn’t make a move to distract his son from whatever he’s thinking.

It’s been a long night, for all of them really, but none as long as the night Dick Grayson has had. Bruce is told that Dick spoke in private with one of the nurses and an assisting officer about some of the things that happened during the banquet. Bruce doesn’t pry though. He knows better than to go sticking his nose into something so fresh, something so invasive. He trusts that Dick will speak when he’s ready.

Whenever that is.

There’s a knock at the door before Dr.Ruth walks in again, hands folded neatly in front of her as she enters. There’s no clipboard with her and a lightness in her posture is telling of good news.

“You’re all clear,” she says warmly, stepping up closely to Dick’s cot. “I just need you to sign some release forms and you’ll be on your way. Do you have any questions for me?”

She directs the question towards Dick, whose gaze travels slowly over to the doctor. He licks his lips twice before asking, “What do I need to do after I leave?”

“Hydrate,” she answers, mentally going through a checklist. “Lots of fluids. The charcoal is going to absorb a fair amount of liquid in your system, so keep an eye out for water consumption and bowel movements.”

“What… what about medication?”

She frowns at that, lips pulling down slightly. “Well,” she starts, “I would suggest keeping away from them for the next twenty-four hours. Are you in pain? Do you feel like you need something for it?”

Dick is quick to shake his head. It jostles him and he closes his eyes briefly, be it from pain or disorientation is something indiscernible. “No, no. Not hurt or anything. I take some, uh, prescriptions though. From my psychiatrist. Everyday.”

“I see.” Dr.Ruth is quiet for a moment before, “Try to wait as long as possible. If you absolutely need to, go ahead and take them but be careful. You won’t be in any serious danger but it’s always better to be cautious after an overdose.” She turns to Bruce then. “He’ll need to be somewhat monitored over the next few days. It’s not very common, but symptoms can linger.”

After another pause in which no one speaks up, Dr.Ruth smiles and bows her head slightly. “I’ll have someone bring those papers by soon. Tell one of the nurses if you’re having trouble walking, Richard, and we can get a wheelchair brought to you. Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

No one continues to make a sound as Bruce fills out the paperwork, insisting that a wheelchair be brought when Dick only manages to take a few steps before his legs begin to shake. Dick makes no comment on it, only half-heartedly glaring at Bruce as he sat down heavily into the plastic seat. The walk out of the hospital is quiet too, Duke along the way muttering that he was going back to his cousin’s place for the night. Alfred meets the remaining boys at the front, leaning forwards to bring Dick into a small hug before releasing him and helping Dick get into the car he brought.

When Damian hands Dick a water bottle, Dick accepts it silently, lightly patting his little brother’s hand before taking a singular sip from the bottle. He doesn’t drink from it again.

When they arrive at the Manor, Jason is the first one moving and is quick to pull out the ramp they have for when Barbara visits. Dick is tense as they roll him into the Manor, finally putting his foot down when Bruce suggests that one of them carry him up to his bedroom. It’s a slow process and it twists Bruce’s heart in a way he can’t quite describe as he watches his eldest struggle up the flight of stairs, using both the railing and Damian as meager supports.

Dick pushes open the door to his dark room and makes no comment when everyone follows him in. He all but collapses onto his bed, exhausted. They all just simply breathe for a minute, taking the time to truly process everything that’s happened that night. Somewhere in the Manor, a bell tolls and the electric clock on Dick’s nightstand reads two in the morning. They’re all still in their suits, still in their tight dress shoes, and nothing seems quite real yet. The black out curtains are clasped together tightly, as if their belief in maintaining the illusion and reality of darkness is all that’s keeping the peace.

Damian is the first one to move this time, peeling off his jacket and kicking off his shoes to sit beside Dick’s sprawled form. They don’t exchange words, but Dick shifts and allows Damian to get closer, a hand reaching up to finally destroy the carefully combed locks of hair, stiff with gel and pomade. Dick sighs and this release is what prompts the others to move as well, Jason plopping himself at the foot of the bed to lean against one of the banisters, Tim choosing to sit on the floor and rest his head against the side of the bed frame, and Bruce pulling a chair closer to be within reaching distance of Dick.

It’s quiet, calm, and the proximity is just enough to be reassuring. Comforting in a way that doesn’t demand physical touch but soothing enough to provide warmth. It’s nice.

Dick speaks first. It’s an apology.

“I wanted this to be a family night, you know?” he confesses into the stillness. “I didn’t mean for… any of this to happen.”

“We know, Dick,” Tim says, equally as quiet. “It wasn’t your fault.”

There is no response to that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asks, voice gruff but kind. Gentle in a way that betrays his outward appearance.

“I don’t know,” Dick says. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” is all Jason responds, easy and light. The dark hides many secrets. He will not be the one to unearth them.

It goes back to silence after that and soon enough, Dick’s breaths are even and his eyes are closed. Slowly, the boys disappear one by one back to their rooms, allowing themselves to recover as well from the experience. Damian falls asleep by Dick’s side and Bruce tenderly picks him up, cradling the boy’s head onto his shoulder, and carrying him to his own room.

When Bruce returns, Dick is sitting up and staring at him. He’s nervous. Bruce takes a deep breath in for his own nerves and sits back down into the seat. They stare at each other for a long time, the eye contact neither uncomfortable nor helpful. It’s a waiting game, one that doesn’t need to happen, and Bruce breathes in again.

“How are you, son?” he asks, gaze heavy as he takes in Dick’s haggard appearance. The hospital had given him a scrub shirt to replace the one he had thrown up on and the texture crinkles as Dick shifts in place. His eyes go back to wandering around, drifting from Bruce’s face to the comforter around his legs.

“I’m tired,” Dick whispers, hands flexing and clenching. “And a little freaked out,” he adds, eyes flickering to Bruce’s and then darting away again. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful. I… I messed up.”

Bruce sighs, slowly and deliberately telegraphing his movements as he reaches out to place a hand over Dick’s fidgeting one. Dick is still tense, hand clenching into a fist as Bruce just lets the warmth of his palm linger.

“You did nothing wrong,” Bruce begins. Pauses. Backtracks. “Everything that happened tonight wasn’t your fault. Whoever did this… that’s their fault. That’s their doing. Not yours. Never yours.”

“How did you find me?” Dick asks, deflecting. He’s always been good at that.

“I was given a note.” The napkin had been taken away as evidence earlier. The phantom hot weight of it still burns a hole in Bruce’s coat pocket. “It told me to find you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” Pause. “I’m glad they did though. I was… worried. Worried of what had happened to you. Dick, look at me please.”

Instantly, Dick’s eyes snap to his and again, Bruce’s heart twists in a way he can’t describe. Sadness? Resentment? Melancholy? Regret? He doesn’t know.

“I’m sorry I let that happen to you,” he says firmly, reaching out with both hands to grasp at Dick’s. He grips them tightly, holding them together like they’re praying. This is now twice in over a decade. “I am so sorry, Dick. I wasn’t there when you needed me, but I’m trying to be better. I want to be a better father to you, son. You mean more to me than you will ever know and the thought of losing you scares me.”

Dick nods sharply, once, twice, and his face falls into apathy as he processes what Bruce has said. He doesn’t reach out to hold Bruce’s hands as well, but the fact that he hasn’t removed them is enough to reassure Bruce that he’s doing at least one thing right.

“It,” Dick says, voice barely a whisper, “It scares me too. Losing you. Losing anyone. Dying.”

He swallows audibly and sweat trickles down his brow. Bruce wants to insist that Dick go back to sleep or at least drink some more water, but he refrains from doing so, too afraid to remove his hands lest he lose Dick all over again.

“When I was...” Dick trails off, swallowing again. “While I was hallucinating,” he restarts, “I saw, no, uh, I thought I saw a lot of things.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, buddy,” Bruce reminds him, tapping his index across Dick’s knuckles. “It can wait.”

Dick shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m okay.” His voice cracks slightly as he says that. Bruce ignores it and Dick seems grateful.

“I thought I was dying again,” he rushes out, as if to force the words before he can take it back. “All these bad things, things from the past that I didn’t want to remember, were suddenly all happening again and I-I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where I was, what was happening, who I was with half the time, and I couldn’t move, Bruce. I couldn’t move and it all just happened.

They wouldn’t stop touching me and it scared me. I was terrified and then suddenly I was alone and I really thought I had died. I thought that I had died and then Damian was there and-and I thought he had died again and I couldn’t, couldn’t handle that, Bruce.”

“Dick, breathe. Breathe. Damian is safe. You’re safe. Breathe in for me, buddy, that’s it. You’re okay. I promise.”

Dick nods again as if trying to convince himself that he’s safe now. That he’s home and everything is okay and there are no ghostly hands that cover and touch him. He tries, but he’s tired. The fear rests idle and Dick can feel it scratching at his throat. It’s been six hours hours since everything happened. Only six.

“I think the worst part,” Dick admits, strained and hushed, “was that I was alone.”

Bruce squeezes his son’s hands together, the pressure meant to be grounding. “I’m sorry,” he says, meaning it with everything he has.

Dick only shrugs his shoulders, a shuddering breath escaping him. He looks at his father’s hands, the gnarled knuckles and thin white scars that grasp his own destroyed fingers. The contrast of the touch compared to the appearance is comforting in a way that reminds Dick of their early days as Batman and Robin. Before Nightwing. Before Agent 37. Before everything else. It is a testament to their struggles, their crooked fingers and half formed nails from broken bones and relentless pursuit. Their hands hold the weight of a thousand punishments, twice more punches, and countless conflicts and battles.

Their hands are the evidence of their survival though. Their victories against death.

Two thin stitches that hold together the cut just below his hairline are another piece of the evidence. Another testimony to Dick’s endeavor for endurance against the odds. There will be a pink scar to commemorate tonight, and in a year or so, there will be nothing left but a faint white line.

Tomorrow, Dick will wake up, eat breakfast, and carry on about his day. It will be normal because it has to be. There is no other way to move forward, and Dick will swallow his pills with the same grimace and remembrance of hot metal and red lips. Maybe in a week, he’ll tell his therapist about tonight and they’ll suggest another coping strategy that Dick’s already tried but he’ll try again because he has to.

For now though, in the silence of his childhood room, decorated with pictures of the circus and framed photos of his found family, with black out curtains that never move to let the light of day peer through and a noisy vent that sometimes drips from condensation; for now, Dick can indulge in his fears and his worries as Bruce holds his hands.

There will be police reports, prosecutions, scandals, interviews, testimonies, and so much more later. Right now though. Right now, Dick lets himself breathe and accept the fact that things aren’t fine and that he needs help. Dick lets himself squeeze his father’s hands and blink away tears, finding relief in their hold.

He’s not okay, but tomorrow he will be. He has to be.

108 notes · View notes

fishfingersandjellybabies · 5 years ago

Text

Fates Be Damned - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Selina Kyle Summary: Batman Incorporated was waging war against Leviathan. But Dick would be damned if he let Damian become a casualty to this fight. A/N: A fix it for Batman Inc. 4 from like five years ago!!! Because I’m clearly up with the times. Bruce’s starting dialogue is from that issue. I don’t want to call this a hurt/comfort fic, because it’s not a happy ending for everyone, and I’d be interested in anyone thoughts on the ending I chose because it’s not a ‘everything tied up neatly’ kind of ending like I tend to do. Anyways, this all happens over a year as hinted at. Alfred was away in the last part, and he is still in constant contact with Dick and Damian. Dick and Damian keep up their training, though really do enjoy not being vigilantes. No, Damian does not take Dick’s last name. Batcow and Goliath, of course, come with them to live in the ‘burbs, and the family visits often. Bruce does too, eventually.

It felt like someone shocked him. Or maybe slapped him, or just said the sky is falling.

Because this…this wasn’t happening, right?

He looked to his brothers, to Tim and Jason, and saw his own near-revulsion mirrored on their own faces.

So it wasn’t a dream. Or a miscommunication.

Here they were, in the middle of a goddamn war, all hands on deck. And Bruce just told one of their ranks, just told Damian – little, mostly innocent, eleven-year-old Damian – that he had to leave the life he chose, the life he loved, and go back to his mother, the one who hurt him more than anyone in the world.

And Damian’s face is wrecked. Dick had never seen this child cry, but here, there were tears in his eyes, and terror in his voice, as he tried to reason with Bruce, explain how much he gave up, how much he did. Just to belong, just to be loved by his old man.

How much he didn’t want to go.

But Bruce… Jesus Christ, Bruce just shook his head.

“If you don’t, Gotham, the world, will be plunged into chaos. And you, Damian…” Bruce sighed, like he was disappointed. “You’re going to be responsible…”

It was out of his mouth before he thought about it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dick snapped. Damian jumped in surprise, and Bruce turned so quick he may have given himself some sort of whiplash.

But any surprise Batman had immediately disappeared. “Excuse me?”

“He’s eleven, Bruce.” Dick hissed, balling his hands into fists. Damian had looked away now, stepped forward and grabbed Bruce’s cape to regain his attention, plead his case. “He’s eleven years old, your fucking son, and not only are you blaming him for this mess, you’re going to force him to go back to Talia?”

Bruce’s shoulders slumped. “Dick, you don’t understand…”

“The woman who put him through hell for most of his life?” Dick’s fury rose with every word, and he could feel his muscles start to shake with adrenaline. “The woman who put a fucking hit out on him, and you’re going to send him back to her?!”

“Dick…”

“No. No.” Dick started shaking his head. In his periphery he could see Tim and Jason glancing at each other, Damian still trying to take back Bruce’s attention. “You know what? No, I’m done. Because I let you take him back, I let you break up our partnership and regain guardianship even though I knew, deep down, it was a terrible idea, for both him and you. I let you uproot him and isolate him. I even let you abandon him for your rendezvous with Selina, or any time you felt the need to play Brucie Wayne halfway across the world.”

He stepped forward now, his breathing heavy as he got into Bruce’s face.

“But you must think I’m a goddamn idiot if you think I’m going to let you sacrifice him just because you and Talia can’t get along, and got the whole world involved in your stupid spat.” He poked Bruce in the chest now. Over and over, to emphasize his words. “Damian is innocent in this, and for you to have the audacity to blame him…” Dick bit his lip, and shook his head. “The needs of the many don’t outweigh the needs of the few. Not here. Not with your own fucking son, Bruce.”

“Dick, if there was another way you know I’d-”

“I’m done listening. I’m done being your soldier in this. I’m done letting you hurt him, for nothing.” Dick growled. Without waiting for a reply, he shoved past him to where Damian was standing, and scooped the boy up into his arms. “I’m taking him, and we’re going into hiding until this garbage is finished. I’ll help run computers with Oracle, and ping the communicators when I’m online.”

“Dick…!”

“I’m disappointed, Bruce.” Dick glanced back, just once, holding the back of Damian’s head. “You’ve made better plans in worse situations. And the one you settled on here, to save the day, was to sell your son back to the demon?” He narrowed his eyes. “Shame on you.”

Damian didn’t argue as Dick moved towards the door. Just wrapped his arms and legs as tightly around Dick as he dared. His breaths were shallow and hiccupped, and Dick could feel the tears splashing away from his cheeks.

“G-G-Grayson.” He murmured.

“I know.” He whispered, kissing Damian’s head. He couldn’t tell him it was okay. Because it was a lie, and Dick couldn’t do that to him. Not right now. “But I’ve got you.”

Damian dug his traumatized, trembling fingers into Dick’s neck.

“I’ve got you now, kiddo.”

Dick had been right, in the end. Bruce did come up with a better solution.

The world was saved. Talia and her army were dealt with. Blah, blah, blah.

That’d been about a month and a half ago, and it was still Dick’s kitchen table in a tiny rented house away from any city that Damian sat at every morning to eat his breakfast.

Bruce had called a week after the battle ended. Told Dick about the final fight between him and his once-lover, the injuries sustained. How everyone, from family to communities, were coping with the aftermath.

Dick listened politely, waiting for the real reason for the call.

“So…yeah. Everything has been settled. Talia won’t be bothering us again for a long time.” Bruce huffed, trying to be nonchalant. “You can…bring Damian home whenever it’s convenient for you.”

Bruce couldn’t see it, but Dick smiled. A sneering, cold, angry smile. “Who said I was bringing him home at all?”

And then he hung up.

Damian had been in the room during the call, drawing in the corner and taking pictures on his phone of his dozing pets. He’d heard everything Bruce said, just as he heard everything Dick said.

So when Dick tossed his phone on the table and looked up, it was no surprise that Damian was staring at him.

“What?”

“You…” Damian tilted his head thoughtfully. “You’re not making me go back to Father?”

Dick blinked as he leaned back in his chair. “Do you want to?”

Damian’s eyes lowered, his lips twisted in thought.

“…No.” He decided, looking back to his art. “I…after what happened, I…don’t think I’m ready to see Father yet.”

“Okay.” Dick smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

Dick turned on the TV. Damian went back to drawing.

It was no surprise when the Batman showed up at his door in the middle of the night.

“Took you long enough.” Dick muttered dryly when he answered the door with crossed arms. Stephanie, Batgirl, stood sheepishly behind him, clearly not wanting to be there as his partner.

“I need to see him.” Bruce growled.

“Well, he’s sleeping.” Dick smirked. “So how about you call again in the morning and make an appointment.”

“He’s my son, Dick.”

“Yeah, well.” Dick shrugged. “Maybe not anymore.”

And Dick knew Bruce well enough to see the hit that was coming, and block it.

“Oh, going to break into my house and beat me up?” Dick laughed, even as Stephanie tried to get between them. “Where was all this concern during you and Talia’s little tiff, hm?”

Before the fight could continue, there was a harsh whisper from further into the house. “Oh, will you two knock it off?”

Bruce hesitated, and glanced over Dick’s shoulder to find Tim standing at the mouth of another hallway. “If you two wake him up, I’m kicking you both out. He has a test in the morning and needs his rest.”

Bruce blinked, allowing Stephanie to push him away from Dick. “Test?” He looked at his eldest. “He’s in school?”

“Well he’s not getting private lessons from Alfred anymore, so I enrolled him here.” Dick pretended to dust dirt from his shoulders. “He’s still struggling with being a child genius and making friends, so Tim comes by and helps tutor him sometimes, since he knows what that’s like.”

“…This wasn’t a permanent move, Dick. For either of you.” Bruce scolded.

“Yeah, well. Maybe I decided it should be.” Dick spat. “He doesn’t need to be Robin, he doesn’t need to be out there on the streets like that anymore. And…maybe I don’t either. Haven’t thought about Nightwing once since we moved to the suburbs, if I’m honest.”

“Domesticated? You?” Steph snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s wild, Steph.” Tim called from behind him.

Dick shot her a warm grin, but Bruce cut their own small moment off. “I want to speak to my son.”

“Well, A, I’m also your son and you’re speaking to me, so. You already have.” Dick mocked. “And B, you’ll talk to him when I say you can. Which is not right now.”

Bruce tried one of his tactics, pushed into Dick’s space and glared down at him. “He’s not your son, Dick.”

Dick shrugged, keeping his sneer. “Maybe he actually is.”

Dick smoothly backed away. “You’re welcome to a drink, snack or nap while you’re here. And if you don’t want any of those, then you can just get the fuck out, I guess.”

“Dick…” Tim sighed as Dick stood next to him.

Dick smiled. “You play host, Timmy. I’m beat. Mind if I hit the hay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just disappeared down the hall behind Tim.

Later, after he’d entertained Bruce and Stephanie, and gave them a little more insight into Dick and Damian’s new life – Dick’s job at a youth center, teaching each other how to cook, Damian’s friends – Tim checked on Dick before heading to the guest bedroom himself.

Dick wasn’t in his own room, and that didn’t surprise Tim at all. He sighed, turned to Damian’s room, and found Dick in there, all but octopus-wrapped around Damian.

Tim frowned at the escrima stick his sleeping older brother still held at the ready, though.

It was never stated out loud, or made official.

Damian lived with Dick now. Permanently.

It was one of those things that everyone knew, but no one talked about, at least, not in front of those involved.

Dick’s friends quietly texted each other about it. The Justice League murmured amongst themselves when Bruce wasn’t on the satellite. The rest of the Batfamily did what they could to just bridge the gap.

Bruce was more closed off than normal, and he talked about his eldest and youngest less and less. Even their codenames of Nightwing and Robin were like forbidden words.

There were cases with their uniforms in the cave now. And Batman’s other partners found him staring at them often.

Dick and Damian didn’t patrol anymore, and Robin and Nightwing hadn’t been seen since the War of Gotham, and the fight against Leviathan.

Most people thought they were dead. No one corrected them.

But Dick and Damian seemed to have traded their gauntlets for gardens. They walked the dog around the neighborhood every night. They meal-prepped, had movie nights, attended the local neighborhood block party.

To their neighbors, it was a single young father and his son. Just some normal folks with their not-quite-normal pets, trying to get away from the city life, and the darkness of Gotham. The father was charismatic and handsome. His son a bit aloof, but polite when approached.

They didn’t talk about their past. Didn’t talk about things like the boy’s mother, or any other family. They came from Gotham, that’s all anyone in town knew.

And they were happy, that’s all anyone in town knew, too.

Jason watched him for a few moments, slowly taking a gulp of his beer. Then, he slowly lowered his bottle and smacked his lips thoughtfully.

“You’re too giddy about this.”

Dick looked up from Damian, who was sleeping against his side. The child had fallen asleep after the three had had dinner, and continued to curl into Dick’s side in his slumber as the sun lowered behind the horizon.

“Too giddy about what?”

Jason motioned to Damian. “Being his dad.”

Dick blinked, and then fell into a huffed laugh. “I’m not his dad.”

“I bet he’d beg to differ.” Jason murmured. Paused to look at Damian himself. His chubby cheeks and long lashes. How small he was. “…If you didn’t want to give him back to Bruce in the first place, why did you?”

“I thought it was best for him. He’d always wanted to be with Bruce. It wasn’t my place to keep him from that.” Dick hummed, glancing back down to Damian himself, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

“Could have just asked him.”

“I also didn’t think I was ready to be a dad. It was a lot, that time Bruce was gone. Being Batman, raising him…” Dick shrugged. “I wasn’t doing that great of a job, despite what you all apparently think. And he deserved better.”

“And now after everything that’s happened, do you regret what you did?” Jason asked. “If you could go back, would you have kept him with you instead?”

“…I don’t know.” Dick sighed. “Maybe. If I knew Bruce was going to be this much of a prick, then yes. I would have kept him as far away from Bruce as humanly possible.”

“Well, better late than never on that last bit, right?” Jason snorted. He let the laugh die off as he took another drink of his beer. “You ever going to speak to him again?”

“I speak to him now, Jay, you know that. Just not…you know, frequently.” Dick defended. “But I know you mean in regards to Damian, and…no. I want to talk to Damian about it first, but I don’t think he’s ready.”

“Dick, it’s been months.”

“Yeah, and Bruce was trying to give him away forever.” Dick nearly spat. A sore spot still, Jason assumed. Though he wondered if it was a worse sore spot for Dick or Damian. “It’s…a lot to deal with. You were there, you saw how Damian reacted.”

“Yeah, he cried. Never seen that before.” Jason admitted. “Has he talked about Bruce at all?”

“In passing, and…coldly. Very detached.” Dick’s brows furrowed. “Doesn’t call him Father anymore. Just Bruce. Sometimes even Mr. Wayne.”

“Harsh. Does Bruce know that?” Jason asked.

“Tim knows, and I’m betting he’s mentioned it to him.” Dick explained. “But, I digress. It’s not something I want to push him on. I just…want to be here for him instead. In the interim, whenever he’s ready. Stuff like that.”

“AKA…like a dad.” Jason smirked.

“Shut it.” Dick laughed. “…What’s your thoughts on all this?”

Jason took another drink from his bottle, picked up his phone and read a quick text message. “I think Bruce was a piece of shit, deciding that was the only option for ending that stupid battle.” He placed his phone back down. “And I think you did the right thing by getting Damian out and as far away as possible.”

“Think I should have kept him?”

Jason thought a moment more. “…Yes.” A quick sniff. “And I think you should have gotten him out of the life. You getting out too was just a bonus, I think.”

Dick smiled warmly. “Thanks, Jay.” He inhaled. “I thought I’d miss it more, being Nightwing and all that, but.” He looked down at Damian, ran his hand up and down Damian’s arm. Damian just burrowed deeper into his side. “I don’t.”

“They say having kids changes you.” Jason reminded. “And this time around, you aren’t trying to juggle seven hundred different things. And you’re not grieving.”

“True.” Dick mumbled, staring down at the boy in his arms. “…I hate Bruce for what he tried to do.”

“We all do, I think.” Jason offered. “Damian’s a shitball, but…he didn’t deserve that.”

“Do you think Bruce understands that yet?” Dick asked.

“…I don’t know.” Jason admitted. “It’s hard to tell with him.”

Dick nodded, then slowly leaned his head against Damian’s, looking at Jason with a soft smile.

“Thanks for stopping by, Jay.” Dick hummed. “I really love when you do.” Then a laugh. “And Damian will never admit it, but he does too.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s what’s family is for, and all that shit.”

Dick laughed and closed his eyes. Jason just took another drink.

“…Do you blame me?” Bruce, not Batman, asked, though his cape waved softly behind him. Cassandra and Tim glanced at each other, then to Bruce’s back, as he did not face them. Selina tilted her head. “Do you hate me?”

“Hate, no.” Selina hummed. “But blame? Well, Bat. What you almost did was terrible. Would you blame us if we did?”

“It was…” Bruce looked down at the streets below them. “I didn’t think I had another choice.”

“But in the end, you did.” Selina reminded. She looked at the younger two heroes, gave them an encouraging smile. They didn’t return it. “You found another solution that didn’t threaten your child’s life.”

“It was…” Cassandra offered. “A…poor choice.”

“And the only reason we don’t hate you is because Dick stepped in and stopped it from happening.” Tim added. “He saved Damian…and if he hadn’t gotten in your way, this conversation would be going very differently.”

Bruce closed his eyes, swayed slightly in the wind. “Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry?”

“We’re not the ones you should be apologizing to.” Selina sighed. “You know that, Bat.”

Bruce didn’t open his eyes. “…Do you think he’s happy?”

“I know he is.” Tim almost hissed. It was harsh and angry, but controlled, contained. Businesslike, and so very Tim. “He’s probably happier than he’s ever been, which is funny to say since you broke his heart and he’s still trying to put those pieces back together.”

“And better,” Cassandra cut in. “He is…safe.”

“And alive.” Selina continued.

No one spoke after that, for just a moment. Let those words – happy, safe, alive – linger between them, and float through the air into the Gotham night.

“…I miss him. I miss him and Dick both.” Bruce whispered. “Am I allowed to?”

Selina walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re allowed to have emotions, Bruce.” A smirk, just for him. “In fact, we’re all pretty sure a lack of emotions is what got you here in the first place.”

Bruce tried to smile back to her. It didn’t feel right.

“…But to answer your question.” Tim exhaled, like he was exhausted. “No, we don’t hate you. We’re mad-”

“Pissed.” Cassandra interjected.

“-but would we be standing here if we hated you?”

It’d been ten months.

Ten months of Damian living with him, away from Bruce – and they hadn’t talked about it. Not once. Not even a mention, or a second.

It made him anxious, worrying about what might be clouding Damian’s brain, but it also made him happy. Because Damian seemed freer here, outside of Gotham, away from the costumes.

Away from his father.

He smiled so much out now. Laughed out loud, let himself feel.

And as much as he knew they needed to talk about it, Dick just didn’t want to wreck that.

But still – the tension of the topic was palpable. And Dick didn’t want that to get worse.

So it wasn’t his plan to talk about it right now, as they lay in the backyard, resting against Batcow, gazing at the stars above them.

But as he watched Damian pointing constellations out to his dog between them, the words just slipped out.

“I’m sorry.”

Damian looked up at him, confused. “For?”

Dick just kept staring at his charge, his voice quiet. Mournful. “For what Bruce did to you.”

Damian’s creased brows smoothed. He glanced down, reaching out to pet Titus’ head, and shrugged.

“I wish it didn’t. I wish I could have stopped him before he ever said anything.” Dick whispered. “I wish I didn’t have to take you away.”

“But I’m glad you did.” Damian interjected immediately, eyes fierce when he met Dick’s eyes once more. “Who knows where I would be right now if you hadn’t.”

Dick tried to give a little smile at that.

“…How are you feeling, though? Are you doing okay?” Dick asked. “Are you…happy?”

Damian leaned back, stared thoughtfully up at the stars.

Then smiled.

“Happier than I’ve been in a long time.” Damian decided. “A very long time.”

Dick allowed himself his own grin then, then shifted to pull Damian into his side and kiss his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dick murmured into his hair. Damian merely shrugged again. “…Well, if you ever do, I’m here, okay?”

Damian looked up at him. His face was open and his smile was bright.

“I know you are.”

The manor was quiet, that was the first thing Damian noticed as he stepped in the front door. Quiet and dusty.

He didn’t take off his shoes, didn’t plan to be here long, just looked around as he made his way towards his father’s study.

The house was so empty, he could hear the scratch of a pen from down the hall. When he reached the door, the noise was almost deafening.

He stood there, though, for just a moment. Collected himself, inhaled. Then pushed the door open.

Bruce was at his desk, proofreading some sort of document for Wayne Enterprises. There was the shadow of a beard around his face, and his hair was messy. He looked tired, but not Batman tired.

Old man tired.

He looked up at the movement of the door, and his eyes widened as he registered who it was. He learned back in his chair, braced the armrests like he was about to stand, but Damian held up his hand to wave him off.

“I’m not staying.” He said quickly. “Just…wanted to stop by.”

“…What are you doing here?” Bruce asked quietly. “In Gotham, I mean.”

“Grayson is having lunch with Gordon.” Damian hummed. “I asked to tag along, said I wanted to see a friend too.”

“…He doesn’t know you’re here.” Bruce concluded.

“No. But I will tell him later, when we’re finished.” Damian nodded. He hesitated for a moment, looked around the room, at the art and style. He didn’t feel any sense of nostalgia, though. Didn’t miss this place at all.

He sighed, and looked back at Bruce.

“…Father.” The word sounded strange, he hadn’t said it in so long. “I know we haven’t talked or seen each other since…since that day.” Damian started. He could see the pain in Bruce’s eyes immediately. The guilt. The regret. “Both through my own choices and Grayson’s interventions.”

Bruce waited, looked like he was holding his breath.

“But I just want you to know that I forgive you.” Damian said plainly. “I forgive you for what happened.”

Bruce watched for a moment, then slumped. “You don’t have to.” He whispered. “I know I don’t deserve it.”

“Debatable.” Damian shrugged. “But that doesn’t change anything, not from my perspective. I forgive you.”

Bruce looked down.

“So don’t…feel guilty. It’s okay.” Damian offered. “I...want you to be happy.”

“I’ll be happy when you come home.” Bruce admitted, not looking up. “…I miss you.”

Damian didn’t seem to expect that response. Blinked in surprise, then looked guilty himself.

“I feel that I am home.” Damian murmured. “With Grayson.”

Bruce closed his eyes.

“And I apologize for that, I know it’s not something you wanted to hear.” Damian sighed. “But…I’m happy to extend an invitation to you. To visit whenever you like.”

Bruce didn’t open his eyes. “Dick won’t like that.”

“I’ll get him to come around.” Damian paused then. “He won’t say it, but he forgives you too, or at least is in the process of it. He was only upset because your decision was not what he felt was best for me, and that’s all he wants.”

Bruce did look up at that.

“He just wants what’s best for me. And I’ve found that the life we’ve adopted since we left is that.”

“That’s…good.” Bruce forced himself to admit. “I’m glad. For you and Dick both.”

“Thank you.” Another hesitation. “And thank you for everything you’ve given me thus far. I appreciate it more than I can ever say, even with our last meeting what it was.”

Bruce flashed a grim smile. Thank you for introducing me to Dick, is what Damian wouldn’t say.

“…But I better get going. Like I said, I can’t stay. And I actually do have a friend I’d like to visit.” Damian ended. “…It’s good to see you…Father.”

“You as well, Damian.” Bruce stood. “Thank Dick for me. For protecting you when I should have.”

“I will.” Damian promised. Stopped again, like he didn’t know what to do next, then merely gave a quick wave. “Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodbye, Damian.”

Damian nodded, and disappeared back into the hall. Bruce didn’t follow.

Just sat back down, and hid his face in his hands as he heard the front door close.

#Damian Wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson

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alfredosauce50 · 6 years ago

Text

Who’s the bad guy? (2p + 1p America x reader) 11

Wordcount: 2,182 The reader is referred to as she/her

"Allen, get your ass up! We're gonna go shopping!" You shrilled, slapping your hands all over the big lump under the blanket. Ever since you woke up at around eight this morning, the energy coursing through your veins hadn't subsided. That was obviously because you were an early bird unlike Allen and you loved visiting department stores despite never getting the chance to go on a worthwhile shopping spree in them.

Low groans were muffled against the covers and the man resting under them only rolled around in it to tighten himself in a tighter burrito. "No... 5 more minutes, please..." He mumbled, rubbing his cheek against the pillow. After spending so much of your time with this man, you've come to learn that he loved to sleep in to nearly noon when he didn't have anything planned in the morning. The thought of this bad habit hit you and made you sigh frustratingly.

When his nest of fiery red hair peeked out and pooled around, you dug your hands in them and gave it a good ruffle. "Al, I'm gonna sit on you and squash you with my fat if you don't get up this instant." You threatened with a taunting smile tugging at your lips. He let out a soft chuckle and with that said, he did not bother to move a single muscle. "Go on, do it." He thought with mischief manifesting onto his features in the form of a smirk.

Narrowing your eyes with a scowl, you jumped on him and squeezed your limbs around the shape of his body under the blanket. He let out a grunt and feigned hurt. Those noises made in protest silenced when he rolled onto his back, however. As you enveloped yourself around him like a boa constrictor, he snaked two arms around your neck and pulled you close much to your surprise. Noses pressed together and eyes locked, he held you in this intimate position for a few moments forcing you to stare right into his lazy, half-lidded gaze. He turned his head and brushed his lips against your cheek before giving it a light peck. "I'm up, baby." He moved his warm lips against your skin as he spoke, sending chills to shake through every inch of your body from the feeling. You inhaled sharply and bashed him on the head repeatedly. "Let me go, idiot!" You hissed with a little bit of pink tinting your cheeks. He responded by tightening his arms. "Not till you gimme a morning kiss. You know how much I hate waking up early." He whispered with his brows knitted together. You grumbled something under your breath. Darting your eyes over to the clock standing on the bedside table, it read 9:32AM. You grabbed that while carefully avoiding the prickly potted cactus sitting next to it. Holding it in front of his line of vision for a good second, you then hit his head with it. "It's not early, Al. It's half past nine already." He rubbed his forehead. "And that's pretty early for me. It's all about perspective, dollface." He replied, cupping a hand behind your neck. "Now give Allen some sugar." You rolled your eyes at him and sighed in defeat. You couldn't really escape his iron grip and decided to go along with his whims to stop wasting time. You could be already out there shopping for a nice dress, but no, he was still curled up in bed. Leaning in to give his cheek a quick kiss, he released you and smiled contently. Stretching his arms, he screamed to wake himself up. "I'm up!" An hour later after breakfast was served for the late-riser, the two of you jumped into the backseat of Alfred's car to get to the shopping districts of New York. Even though visiting boutiques and shopping in them were new for Allen and you, you were far more enchanted by the products offered than he was. Of course, if you showed him a good place to have a smoke and beer, he would be all over you. That was not the case this time however, so he just found himself following along after you in a shop filled with glamorous and glimmering fancy dresses. Alfred figured that his cousin's suit could wait until last; it would not take as long. Everything inside was well-lit with the chandeliers dangling from the tall ceiling, brightening up the whole expanse of mannequins and gushing women with dancing arrays of light. The air was also laced with a sweet, feminine scent of perfume, filling you with delight at the pleasant smell. The host of the party let out obnoxious laughs as he watched you browse through the store like a child in a candy store. Under those lively explosive laughs hid a sinister smirk inside, something that manifested in his mind because he knew what he was doing was going to win you in his favour. "This party is gonna be a freakin' blast! Just pick whatever you like because you'll look great in anything!" Alfred exclaimed, patting you on the shoulder. You turned to him with a light blush but smiled brightly at him nevertheless. Your chest was swarmed with warmth once more when he flashed you another one of his toothy grins; those million dollar smiles always managed to make your heart flutter. "Thank you again, Alfred. I honestly cannot express how grateful I am." You gleamed. "Haha, no worries dudette! Just as long as we have fun, am I right?" He nudged you in the shoulder. The blonde bent over so that his mouth would be in level with your ear. The indifferent face of Allen's grew alarmed when he spied the movement from the corner of his eye, twisting over to you two with an enlarged vein on his neck. Gritting his teeth and seething through it, a hot fiery trail burned behind his footsteps as he neared his cousin. "I know you haven't experienced a lot of what we're doing together, but I'm happy to be your firsts for all these things." He whispered, his hot breath entering the shell of your ear to send shivers down your spine. Ripping yourself away from him, you slapped him on the shoulder. "What the hell, Alfred?! It sounds weird when you put it like that!" You hissed under burning cheeks, unaware of the third presence who just joined. The man you conversed with did know, however. Allen knitted his brows together and frowned deeply, unable to fathom the anguish boiling inside. He was already furious at what Alfred said to you, but the reaction you gave him tore at him even more. As you continued to slap Alfred around on the shoulders, he flickered his eyes at the onlooker and narrowed them slyly. The redhead just tore his gaze away and walked off, not wanting to stare any longer into those calculating pools of icy blue. He completely avoided Alfred from that moment on. He was unable to bear a second in his presence and instead just kept close to you. The only time he scraped together the will to utter anything to him was when he was purchasing a suit for the night, a quiet word of thanks before he disappeared into the fitting room to change into the formal attire. Slipping off his bomber jacket after giving himself a good look over, he let the rest of his clothes drop to the ground before he slipped on a crisp white dress shirt. He buttoned that up to feel as if he was being choked but kept everything on for the sake of looking good. After he fastened a belt around his pants, he tightened the dark blood red tie around his collar. Once that was done, he needed to stop himself before he reached for the jacket so he could take a good look at himself. Allen pursed his lips and nodded in approval at his hot reflection. "Oh shit." He mouthed. "I look like a hot businessman." Never mind a hot businessman. This man was a lady killer with the jacket on. He threw on the suit jacket to finish the look, but only slowly to savor a pivotal moment in his life where he would be wearing something formal for the first time. As if the whole vicinity was put on mute, his surroundings were plunged into a suspenseful silence as he shot his arms through the armholes. Pulling down on the ends to straighten it up, he brushed the non-existent dust off his shoulders and grimaced at his reflection. "Oh shit yeah, Allen. You lookin' like a fine snack." He gave himself finger guns. He continued to stare at his front profile for a good ten minutes before he started twisting and turning to get a good idea on how he looked from all angles. Every single degree out of 360 earned the Allen seal of approval. Snickering to himself as he enjoyed his little alone time of self-admiration, the playful smirk curling at his lips faded once his visage wandered back to his neglected bomber jacket splayed on a velvety black chair. His gaze fell down to the small mound of clothes at his feet this time, which consisted of his tank top, jeans, and dog tag. He then glanced back up at his reflection and frowned. Unlike before, he was glaring at the clean white shirt and invaluable suit jacket. It wasn't like he looked terrible in it, but he looked terrible in it. This was ridiculous. The infamous street rat wearing high-end fashion? This unprecedented event was thought to be impossible and the fact that it was taking place right here mocked him. He licked his lower lip and shook his head with a sigh, a dark shadow consuming his features the longer he stared at himself. "Fuck Alfred." He growled lowly. He was already suffering enough by living on his turf in a world of luxury, but now he had to wear this? No matter how much he complained, this was bound to happen. Why? It was your love and fascination for all things glamorous and his own tendency to stick to you like glue. Even so, he blamed his cousin for throwing these useless parties and spending his money without a care in the world. Rolling his eyes at the sound of his explosive, obnoxious laugh echoing in his mind, he clamped a hand over his face and rubbed it to relieve some of the emotions of anguish. It was something that he held pent up in his system for the past few weeks and it was driving him on a road to insanity. Clenching his hands over the frame of the mirror, he glowered at himself with a glint of death. "There better be alcohol." *** Allen was already intoxicated with melancholy when he stepped out of the limo that brought the group to the destination. Ignoring the blinding flashes of cameras from paparazzi on the sidelines, he trailed behind the couple that was you and Alfred with not a trace of emotion showing on his exterior. You clung onto the blonde with a dazzling smile at the cameras that tightened on you both. Albeit a little overwhelmed, you felt significant for once. It was a feeling you never experienced before but you came into good terms with it immediately. As Alfred dragged you off to meet all the faces of cooperations who had more money than God, a mountain of sparkling glasses came into Allen's sight. Inside the large hall that had ceilings stretching up to the sky, there sat his only a bit of salvation amidst hundreds of insignificant party-goers. His prayers were answered with alcohol, and a hell of a lot of it. Gallons upon gallons of champagne drew him to the long table of refreshments to where he gawked at with delight. Liquid gold it was in its finest form. He didn't hesitate to start chugging the supply of drinks offered to the guests and was slowly exhausting all beverages. In exchange for everything he consumed, his logic and coordination were swapped for impaired vision and judgment. Collapsing into a nearby chair with his face flushed bright pink, he was knocked out cold after consuming more than ten pints of it. He was given weird looks because of it, but the spotlight soon moved onto a small group of finely dressed men with their faces hidden under dark masquerade masks near the entrance. "Sirs, this is not a masquerade party. May I kindly ask you to take them off as a security precaution?" One of the burly guards asked. The shortest one of the group peeled his mask off to reveal piercing magenta eyes. Pulling a Beretta out of his pocket, he cocked it and trained it in between the man's eyes enlarged with shock. "How's this for a security precaution?" He growled, his finger pulling the trigger. Blood splattered onto the wall behind as an ear-splitting explosion echoed throughout the grand hall.

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a-writing-bear · 5 years ago

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[PruCan] Chapter 11: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/48552656

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ��Keep Reading’ - Ao3 version is formatted, tumblr version is not. Ao3 is recommended.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU: College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature: Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.) WITHIN THIS CHAPTER - Mentions a lot of Weed. Unwanted touching (just mentions but slightly uncomfortable)

10 pm was a good time to arrive at a party, they decided. Vanilla milkshakes always made Matthew feel better- however maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have one after that coffee from earlier, and especially considering he was about to jacked up. Oh well. That’s something I'll deal with tomorrow. The Dutchman and himself had been on their way to Matthias & Lukas’ house, music-making his head pound already and feeling antsy over the prospect of more socialising. They had made very little conversation as the Mattie drove- only vaguely keeping attention to Tim’s random commentary and occasional directions. The Nordic couple had been renting out some house in the suburbs with 3 other students- very obviously avoiding living anywhere near the student dorms or the student housing as they liked to prevent interaction with the rest of Himaruya Academy; when you were hosting smoke outs and various amounts of overzealous drinkers and gambling, you tend to want to avoid the loud crowds. These events were closed doors, invite-only per se. Nothing like Alfred’s big bash parties that turned the university dorms into the likes of open summer festivals. They had only just touched the gravel of the house pavement when Matthew was hit with the familiar whistle of a certain Cuban man who had recognised their red car.

“EYYY LUKAS, TIM AND MATTIE ARE HERE.” the Cuban accent used to make Matthew shiver but was meaningless once he learnt Carlos was very straight, and if evidence needed planting then Carlos already on the porch with some girls he didn’t recognise and was flagged to go in after a friendly wave as he was too busy flirting to give Matt and actual hello. Tim had followed behind, loosening his tie as they sauntered up the door, only to have it ripped open by an unimpressed looking face of the shorter man known by Lukas.

The Norwegian seemed to raise his eyebrows to see that they both arrived together, usually, it would always be Tim first before Matthew came coming in. “Hej. Earlier than usual. Matthias is already down in the den with Jack.”

Tim had disappeared into the kitchen, making haste to avoid the heavy drinkers that surrounded the living room and especially avoid that Russian dude that seems to be pouring what looked like half a bottle of vodka into his cup. Meanwhile, Lukas had offered to stash away Matthew’s precious hoodie in the closet as he made their way down to the basement. The hypnotising dragging voice of Tame Impala's Kevin Parker grew louder as Matthew's sneakers hit the staircase floorboards down into the dreary but comfortable den. Jack must have picked the music, but I can dig it. Already he could smell the stink of imported kush, the haziness of what seemed like a spiked stream flowing around- only placated and diluted due to the small basement hopper window that let the smoke out. Matthew kicked off his sneakers at the bottom, already enjoying the vibe- or perhaps already being affected by secondhand smoke. Matthias had opened the basement bathroom to double steam the first few sessions of weed but it proved worthless as there seems to be a continuous stream of smokers mingling in and out of the den. Matthias was a tall blonde mess, a big optimist who wore long shirts under brightly coloured tees- a stark contrast to the bland wardrobe that Lukas wore (Opposites do attract I suppose) and the Danish guy was laying belly up on some very tacky shag carpet, at the feet of Jack who was lazed around on some beanbag, bong in his lap haphazardly.

“Oi Mate- bout time you showed up, I was getting bored. Where’s Timtam?” Matthew shrugged and sat cross-legged right near the dazed Dane’s face.

“Don’t call him that, he’ll throw a fit. What’s this? Yours or Tim’s?”

Jack snickered, the Australian clearly buzzed on something, “Buddy if this was Tim’s hooch I wouldn’t be sharing with goldie over here” he pointed and laughed as he listened to Matthias whine in offence. To be fair, the guy did go through more weed than Jack and Matthew combined so it was a fair enough statement. Matthew leant back, arms behind him as he dug his hands into the soft and a bit scruffy faux fur of the carpet- Matthias was giggling high about something and had pushed his head into Matthew’s lap.

“Hold kæft! I’m not that shit! Fuck Mattttt where’s Tim?”

“Upstairs I think- please pass the bong Jack” Matthew carefully stroked the hair that weaselled its way into his lap, he didn’t mind touchy stoners, he was the same whenever he got a hit- he just wished the big couch wasn’t full of clothes so he wouldn't have to sit on the floor. Just as he had the glass bulb in his hand Tim had marched in from upstairs, throwing a bag of chips and lots of biscuits into the beanbag next to Jack. Matthew tutted as Matthias apologised about not having those maple cookies he liked, whereas the Australian was more pleased to see some recognisable red liquorice. The green-eyed man had pulled out a pipe and dragged the spare beanbag to be behind Matthew, and it was not long before all four of the boys had taken a few hits and became a bunch of giggling messes.

“So whattya been up to mate?”

“Maybe he finally went back to Canada or something right Mattttt?

“Ahaha yea seen any geese or something mate?? Shit, we should have gone- BC bud hol-y” the conversation seemed disjointed and Matthew was already too far gone to think about going back to Canada. He notes that yeah, it’s been a bit since he’d come for a smoke out, and he didn't answer as he was too preoccupied with the stem of his bong and the noise of shouting celebrations of poker players upstairs.

“Schatje has a new uh...gig” Tim snorted, he, however, was definitely less jacked than the 3 who seemed to light up at the sentence.

“Oooooooo who be it?? Who is it, Mattie?” Matthew let out a wail of disapproval at the conversation, Tim was supposed to be his friend yet he’s pushed him into a corner of answers.

“Some dude..guy...fucking cute- uh Gil..red eyes oof real red...shiny eyes.” his mind wandered as he let himself lean on the edge of Tim’s beanbag, Matthias had already stumbled off the floor, excited and eager to hear like some high school girl. Jack had his eyebrows raised and the singlet wearing man moved closer from his position to meet Matthew’s rosy expression.

“Wow, Matties got the giggles for someone huh? Hah Timtam good luck mate.” Tim avoided any eye contact and instead focused on his pipe and refilled it with some mary jane from the communal bag nearby. An indignant noise came out of Tim as he growled at the stupid nickname.

“Wait- Gil? Gilbert? The band shirt guy? Isn’t he the one who got wasted at Francis’ big blowout last time” Matthias mentioned, arms waving and dismissed as he continued to squirm along the floor.

“Oh Gilllly boy, mates with uh Antonio or something, that bitch?”

“Fuck I don’t know...he listens to uh...mom jeans too ya know- fuck me.” the two laughed at Matthew’s comment but didn’t push for more- it’s been too long since Matthew had shown interest in someone, who were they to question. Especially not while they were all getting smoked. Tim looked disinterested in the topic anyway and was more concerned with tangling his fingers in Matthew’s strawberry blonde hair as the Canadian had sat between his legs. God fuck cuddles were nice. Matthew's voice broke out into more wailing as he sung along to Snowy Dunes. The music was soothing. He hoped there was more.

The music melted out into something he didn't quite recognise: “Who the FUCK put Queens of stone age on the queue?” Jack complained. ah fuck. he agreed over the change in the artist. shame, he quite liked Snowy Dunes more than Queens of Stone age At some point, Lukas had dragged his very giggly boyfriend upstairs and Jack had been huddled in a corner snacking by himself. Matthew didn’t know what time it was but he’d wiggled his way from his scarf-wearing friend and clambered up the staircase, laughing at the terrible decor on the walls- he could paint better graffiti than the shitty art pieces the house owners had displayed. He didn’t realise how he’d find himself on the couch near Ivan and some other foreign sounding students. Ivan was cool. Weird. Haha, I V A N. fuck ‘ee van.’ who names their kid Ivan anyway? Doesn't get more Russian than that. Shit ice hockey. Russian players are always so grabby. Man, I’d kill for some Cheetos right now.

There were about 10 people in the room- and some Matthew only recognised by name. Everyone here barely attempted to talk outside of this safe house. What happened on Saturday nights never got passed the lawn, it was an unspoken law. Matthew always wondered was that because of the copious amount of shagging that happened? The excessive card games or maybe the fact that all these people were just kids who can’t bear to go to the bigger parties. Matthew couldn’t decide. He couldn’t even figure out why he was here. Why was anyone here? Why are we still here? Just to suffer? He laughed at his inner joke.

The teen’s mind wandered in circles and had been offered a drink by some Finnish kid he recognised as Lukas’ housemate. The music up here was incessantly blasting rock- something that he’d love if it wasn’t so dizzy. He melted further into the couch, barely turning to watch the poker match of some guys a few meters away. Matthew liked this house. Even with people here, it wasn’t suffocating. He could feel someone touching his hair again. Hosers. Why always my hair. The fingers started roaming his shoulders...and his thigh. Suddenly Matthew felt more sobered as he shuffled away and tried to find a pillow to hide behind. He felt woozy and extremely giddy despite his anxiousness to escape anymore touching. He stood up throwing the pillow outside and went hunting for some water. He didn’t want to feel this light anymore. Not now. Matthew couldn’t remember feeling this light and heavy all at the same time. And suddenly, he just couldn’t remember a lot of things. There was a lot of loud singing. He laughed.

---

Alfred had been dropped off at his dorm building at around 9:20 pm, and by 9:30 he’d launched his discord chat and set up his microphone so that he could huddle on his bed without having to jostle his laptop so much later. The blue-eyed American had only one reason to not be out partying like he usually did with his cousin Francis, only one other reason why he was studying with his brother and one other reason why he hadn’t been chasing up local girls and guys

“Hey, Keeks!”

His voice rattled with poorly disguised joy as his Japanese friend had picked up. Alfred and Kiku had hit it off foundation year, and while it was upsetting that eventually, the black-haired beauty had to transfer back to the other campus, Alfred had made it his job to stay in contact. Kiku was a genius. On par if not smarter than Alfred and that was considered high praise. The two shared stories, For the Asian man it was only just the start of the day so Alfred accompanied him through his breakfast as they shared concepts for different additions to each other’s current project. Robotics has always intrigued Alfred but there was no secret that his wonder had not been merely just been present because of the technological prowess that his crush displayed.

“Alfred-kun. I thought you said you had something with your Brother tonight.” Kiku’s soft voice filtered through the screen, he knew all about Alfred’s personal life and was under the impression the call was cancelled for some family bonding.

“Nah, dude. He’s out with his not-boyfriend. I don’t know what he’s up to. Probably exchanging spit or reading together again.” Alfred Sighed. Knowing his boring brother, he was just watching some movie with Tim again. He’s probably just sleeping.

#prucan #HWS Canada #HWS Prussia #SoftSpokenCalling #prussia x canada #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #Axis Powers Hetalia #hetalia world stars #Hetalia Fanfiction #hetalia fandom #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #APH Canada #APH Prussia #Multichapter

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thereifling · 6 years ago

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Batman and the JL: JL Christmas Party at Wayne Manor (aka 4am Fast Food pt. 2)

Alfred pulled the turkey from the oven. He breathed in the fresh scent sighing in satisfaction. Before placing the tray on the stove, the front door rang. Taking off the oven mittens he hastened to the door.

“Heya Jeeves!” Wally West stood outside tightly wrapped in a large coat and holding several pies. “Am I late?” He asked allowing himself in.

“On the contrary, you are early.”

“Woah, that never happens.” The red head laughed looking around for the kitchen. Alfred shut the door, keeping the December air out of the house, and ushered his guest to the living room. “So, where’s Bruce?” Wally inquired handing off his coat.

“Master Bruce is currently on patrol but will return shortly.” Alfred took the pies heading towards the kitchen. “Dinner will be served once everyone arrives.”

“Man, I’m so hungry I could eat a buffalo.” The front door rang again. “I’ll get it!” Wally rushed back swinging the large oak open to reveal Clark, Diana, and J’onn.

“Merry Christmas!” Clark beamed. The three of them trudged in carrying several bags and platters of food.

“Happy holidays Wally.” Diana undid her coat placing it on the rack with the rest of theirs. She gazed passed him frowning. “Where’s Bruce?”

“Master Bruce is currently on patrol.” Alfred suddenly appeared making Wally jump. He took the bags and the pie in Clark’s hand.

“It’s ma’s pie!” Clark exclaimed. “And here, let me take some of that.” He followed Alfred back to the kitchen. Diana, J’onn, and Wally made their way to the lounge settling in the cushions. They sat there in silence, feeling very awkward. Diana swore she saw Wally speed around the house several times but continued twiddling her thumbs.

“Is it not customary-” J’onn suddenly spoke up. “-for the host to be present when his guests arrive?” Wally laughed at that.

“It is, but we’re talking about Bats here.”

“I do wish he could take one night of rest.” Diana sighed

“Yeah well, he better get here soon, I’m starving!” The speedster flumped down on the couch beside her with a huff. Diana smiled sympathetically towards him.

“Perhaps we should help the process further and head to the kitchen?” J’onn suggested.

“Hey everyone!” Clark’s voice abruptly hollered from the hall. “I hear the car coming in from the cave. He’s here so we can eat!” Wally hadn’t run that fast in a very long time.

Bruce laid another sample on the flask peering into the microscope. Coming out of the car he hadn’t bothered to remove the cowl and immediately set to work. Bruce had been working tirelessly for the past three weeks to get this sample and a new burst of determination bubbled up inside. Setting a new flask in, footsteps could be heard coming near.

“What is it Alfred?” Bruce deadpanned, still gazing into the microscope.

“Sir, your guests have arrived and are patiently awaiting your presence.” There was a hint of condescendence which made Bruce look up. What did he forget now?

“Guests? I don’t recall inviting anyone…”

“Your Christmas Eve party sir, with the founding members of the Justice League.” Alfred informed with a cock of his head. Bruce inwardly groaned.

“I don’t have time right now.”

“Sir, I insist that you head upstairs and be courteous to your guests.”

“Alfred, I’m busy.” Bruce exhaled. “Can’t Dick entertain them?” Alfred erected himself raising an eyebrow at that.

“Master Richard is out with miss Gordon as he will be unable to tomorrow since we are having Christmas with the entire family. These are your guests and friends whom you invited for today.” Bruce jabbed a finger at him.

“I did NOT invite them over! You and slap happy Clark planned this while Diana practically had me pinned down. Now I have work to do and it cannot wait.” Bruce grew more serious. “I got a sample of the toxin.” Alfred’s eyes widened slightly.

“Oh my.”

“Yes.” Bruce turned back to the glass vials. “I finally acquired Sanders’ poison. I need to find a cure before she infects more people. I’m waiting for the results right now.”

“As you wait, perhaps you could grace your associates with your presence.”

“Alfred-”

“A half hour, sir.” The two men stared at each other, a battle of wills. Bruce glared daggers into the old man. Alfred was giving him the look, one he has so far not been able to beat. With a sigh, Bruce removed his cowl and headed towards the changing room.

“I’ll be up in five minutes.”

“Very good sir.”

When Bruce finally came up, having changed into a t-shirt and cargo pants, Shayera and John had just arrived. Wally practically forced them in their seats and seemed ready to throttle Clark for demanding to say grace before digging in. Bruce grimaced at the display of food. There were at least ten pies, several unidentifiable casseroles, pork, turkey, all forms of potatoes, a couple cakes, and many more sugar infested delicacies. He couldn’t eat most of it, not if he wanted to double his workout for the next week. He observed the rest of the guests and their lack of needing a restraint. Clark had a moderate portion, far less than he could handle, Wally had half his food stuffed in his mouth while simultaneously pouring more onto his plate. Bruce sighed, thankful that the others brought meals. Poor Alfred. At the far end of the table John and Shayera were flirting again, and that’s when he noticed Diana had been placed next to his spot. Nice try Alfred. J’onn ate very little more interested in his conversation with Clark. They were discussing tomorrow’s plans for Christmas. Bruce sighed again. These were all his friends, perhaps his only ones besides Jim. He could take a half hour off for them. A smile tugged at his mouth, resigning his fate to the party.

“Diana, would you please pass the salad and the Greek dressing?” She beamed back at him.

“Here you are.”

“Thank y-” The bowl clattered on the table the moment he grasped it. Salad splattered across spreading all the way to Clark on Diana’s right. The room went silent, all staring at Bruce. He glared at them and began to pick up the pieces along with the sudden appearance of Alfred.

“Sorry Bruce.” Diana whispered as everyone picked up their conversations again.

“It’s all right.” He finished retrieving the last piece.

“I will be back with more.” Alfred informed and promptly disappeared. Bruce nodded to him and reached for his glass. The way his hands shook did not escape him. Bruce flexed his other hand under the table. His muscles were stiff and achy. The past couple of days must have caught up to him making it act quicker. He growled to himself, taking a sip. He saw Clark eyeing him, a look of concern. Bruce mouthed I’m fine to only have the Kryptonian roll his eyes.

“So, presents or a game?” Wally jumped up. They had finished eating and were now sitting in the main room. The speedster pulled several board games out of his bag handing them to Clark.

“Oh!” Diana exclaimed. “I have heard of Scattergories, it sounds like fun.” She pulled it from Wally’s hand looking it over.

“I’m in.” Clark nodded towards the box. J’onn, John and Shayera agreed as well. “You playing Bruce?” He turned to the billionaire. Bruce was slumped in a leather chair by the gigantic glittering tree.

“I don’t play games.” He huffed.

“You play chess with me.” Shayera smirked.

“Chess is a strategic and mind building tool. I play enough games with the Riddler and Joker as it is, I don’t need another.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” Wally shrugged, helping Diana unpack the box. Bruce sunk more into the chair. He hadn’t been feeling good since dinner and the constant noise was stabbing his head forming a headache. The chair felt amazing as his energy seemed to drain with every moment. His head swam. It felt heavy as he leaned against his hand on the armrest. Bruce checked his watch grimacing at the time. An hour over what he promised Alfred, but he just couldn’t will himself out of the chair just yet. Clark had asked him if he was all right several times and received a plate in the face when he tried to x-ray him. He was such a worry wort.

“Yes! More food!” Wally cried. Alfred walked in with a tray of snacks placing it on the coffee table. Half of it was gone by the time anyone else got to it. Wally only stopped because of John’s glare.

“Bruce, would you like some?” Diana inquired. Bruce stared off out the window, he couldn’t look at it, feeling nauseous.

“No.”

“Bruce, you hardly ate anything at the dinner.” Diana frowned, becoming concerned.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Clark joined in. Bruce clenched his jaw, this was getting annoying. He needed to keep up appearances, but their constant asking was really irritating.

“I’m fine! See!” He grabbed some sort of pork and onion from the tray and plopped it in his mouth. He immediately regretted it. Nearly gagging, Bruce ran to the nearest trash and let it go. He heaved losing his lunch from earlier, but even when it ran out it didn’t stop. The convulses continued making him cough occasionally. He dry heaved until his throat hurt and sweat coated his face. A hand was on his back, rubbing circles. Clark’s soothing voice spewed comforting words. After what felt like an eternity, Bruce sat back on his knees gasping. Clark continued rubbing circles until he caught his breath again.

“I’m okay.” Bruce rasped.

“Looks like it.” sarcasm dripping from Clark’s voice. Bruce turned up to see Alfred coming towards them. They were the only ones in the hallway, the others giving the dark crusader is privacy.

“Master Bruce, are you all right?” Master Bruce was getting really annoyed with people asking that.

“You have a fever.” Clark frowned feeling his head. “Did you catch the flu?” Bruce swatted his hand away dismissing both their concerns and stood up. At least he tried to. Bruce’s shaky legs immediately collapsed under him and he grasped the trashcan for support. His headache was turning into a migraine and his chest burned. It had begun.

“I need to get to the cave…” Bruce rasped starting a new fit of coughing.

“I think you mean upstairs to bed.” Clark chided. Bruce ignored him, attempting to get up and succeeded, even if he was leaning on the wall.

“Master Bruce, now is not the time to be stubborn. Healing requires rest.” Alfred held one of his arms urging him towards the stairs. The billionaire resisted forcing his way to the clock. He returned to the living room full of leaguers who all watched on in concern. Growling at their looks, he turned the clock hands opening the secret door. Bruce’s chest suddenly flared up like it was on fire. He grasped it with a groan falling to the floor again.

“Bruce!” Diana cried, catching him before he hit the floor. The rest gathered around in distress. “Bruce, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“I…need to get, to get to the cave…” He began to cough again, clutching his burning ribs. Diana bit her lip trying to decide what to do. She stopped suddenly reaching for his neck.

“Bruce, what’s that?” In place of his veins were a purple venomous color snaking up his body. She noticed that they had curved down his left arm more numerous and black in color.

“No!” They all swiveled around meeting a distressed Alfred. “You bloody idiot! You did not, did you?!”

“It…it was the only way…” Bruce murmured, still clutching his chest. He eyed his butler daring him to argue.

“What did he do? What on earth is going on?!” Wally burst out.

“Bring him downstairs post haste!” Alfred commanded motioning Diana towards the clock entrance. Without question she picked up Bruce and flew down in a blur.

“Alfred, what’s going on?” Clark calmly asked. Alfred huffed setting towards the stairway down.

“I will explain in the cave.”

Diana gently placed the dark knight down in the medical bay. The coughing had returned, and he squeezed his eyes shut clutching his chest. His face was so stricken in pain that tears were streaming down his face. Diana tried to remain calm, but she didn’t know how long for. Bruce was in pain, a lot of it. She rubbed his back whispering that it was okay, but a lump settled making it harder. Alfred suddenly appeared with the rest of the league at his heels. They crowded around the still hacking vigilante growing increasingly worried. The purple veins had reached his jawline.

“Listen.” Alfred demanded. “I am sure master Bruce was planning on being more coherent for this segment, but that does not seem to be the case at this moment. I will need your help.” The butler revealed no emotion on his face, but Diana was certain she heard a tint of irritation in his voice. “For the past three weeks a serial killer known as Jessica Sanders has been spreading a toxin all around Gotham. The poison has no known cure and leaves no traces after death. Master Bruce has…has, well, injected himself with the toxin in hopes to procure a cure for the next victims.” Alfred faltered clenching his fist. “This is beyond my medical experience, if you all wo-”

“Way ahead of you Jeeves!” Wally hollered from beyond in the lab room. J’onn moved towards the now limp form of Bruce, eyes glowing.

“I know Batman will not appreciate me entering his mind, even for his information on the toxin.”

“But he was being an idiot anyway.” Clark smirked, eyes turning to x-ray. Diana placed a hand on the butler’s shoulder.

“We’ll save him Alfred, I promise.” Wally zipped by them, taking a syringe, and drawing blood from the patient.

“Only bats would poison himself to get out of a Christmas party.”

THE END

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