#Talia will go along with whatever Jason says because | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thisiswhereikeepdcthings · 2 years ago

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Dick was trapped by fairy hunters after his parents were killed for their wings. Fairy wings are an underground business like the dark web it's very illegal because well murder. Detective Gordon was actually the one who found the Dick in a sting operation. They originally were going to send it into foster care but Bruce decided to take him in.

One day Alfred Bruce and Dick were having a picnic a little ways away from their home. They notice something trying to grab food when they turn their backs. But it is the forest so they just chalk it up to wild animals. They keep coming back to the spot every now and then and stuff keeps going missing and dick being a child comes up with conspiracy theories. I mean it's the same thing every time, so one day he decides to hide in the bushes and see if he can catch whatever is stealing their food. Instead of some wild animal it's Jason and he ends up grabbing Dick to take along with him. Of course Alfred and Bruce go after him and find a cave with all the missing food. Seeing as how Jason is a child they decide that they can't really leave him out here so they take him with them.

And Jason does actually die, have you ever heard of a forest burning down becoming back better? Yeah well that's kind of the idea of Jason's native people. Once it gets older he starts becoming more interested in fire, specifically burning himself with it. Alfred being as knowledgeable as he is tells him what's going on and what Jason is trying to do. They don't want that to happen even if they realize it's probably necessary so they try to keep him away from fire for as long as they can. Though one stormy night Jason ends up getting at the house without anyone noticing. By the time they do a lightning bull has already struck him down The only thing you can hear says agonizing screams his ash is mold into the ground before they can even do anything. So trauma yay!

Tim doesn't get adopted immediately at first he just kind of like a neighborhood kid. He always says that his parents are busy and sometimes forget about him so he likes to hang out with Dick. Soon enough they realize that he's basically staying over at their house almost all the time. He even kind of has an honorary room of sorts, eventually he admits that when he said his parents forget about him sometimes he means all the time. So much so that they forgot to take him with them when they were moving away. Of course everyone realizes that's not exactly true but they don't say anything and decide that Tim's room is permanent.

Cass was seen lurking around the mansion. (Which is kind of like in the countryside but more forestry) at first it's hard to tell what exactly it is, until Tim tells them a story. The reason he started hanging out with Dick is because of something that happened with him and Cass they used to be friends. One day she brought him deep into the forest and well she attacked him she's a Wendigo so she's kind of cannibalistic. Eventually she came to her senses before she did any bad damage to Tim but well Bridges were already burned. So soon enough they all believe that she's coming back to finish what she started. Truth is she just wants to apologize for how things ended up that she really didn't mean to and that she hadn't eaten in a long time and she just couldn't help herself. Under the supervision of dick Cass takes Tim to the place that she goes meant to show them it's a beautiful cave with a gorgeous waterfall. It takes some time before Tim fully trusts being around her alone but it happens eventually.

Meanwhile somewhere far away, Jason ashes have kinda flown through the wind before landing in someones backyard. That someone is Talia Al ghul, Jason believes that she is his new mom. The reason for this is because he sees Bruce kissing her so braces his dad so that must mean she is his mom right? Well by the time he gets his body to fully form back Bruce has gone back home from his business trip. Leaving a pregnant Talia, no she doesn't quite know it yet. While going and plucking some flowers she ends up pulling something that is actually growing from Jason's head. She's confused as she believes that a creature like him she didn't really be here. At first she is thinking of sending him off to an orphanage or something along those lines but well she bonds with him obviously. However Jason's body hasn't fully formed mainly his vocal cords, so he can't really communicate why he is comfortable with Talia. She just thinks that Jason has grown to like her. And Jason assumes that Bruce is just on some business trip with Dick and Alfred and that he'll be back. He doesn't really remember anything from the night of his death.

Damian is soon born nice and healthy and considering he has wings starting to portrude from his back she knows who the father is. So she grabs Jason and Damien and goes to find Bruce. She knows that there's someone in the forestry secluded area that is Gotham. Jason whose memory is coming back and fuzzy bits is perfectly fine with this. Soon enough they meet Bruce Talia introduces him to Damien and Jason reunites with the rest of the family and welcomes the new additions.

Jason's relationship with the family is actually pretty fine as he has no bad blood with them. He wanted to kill himself so he doesn't really blame anyone for his death so he's a lot friendlier and has a better relationship with Bruce and Tim, even if he teases him a bit about replacing him.

Duke is found in and a similar way like Dick. An underground auction that was found out by commissioner Gordon. Honey finds Duke Gordon jokingly suggest that Bruce adopts him because he has so many kids and Bruce calls his bluff. So now that they have Duke!

Oh and Tim meets Stephanie a couple years before Jason comes back. He was just kind of hanging on the field and well there she was! And that's kind of the gist of the AU there's not much of a story after this. It's kind of one of those AUs that's just one shot material

Also sorry if they're a typos I typed most of this with speech text.

Sounds fun!

#batfam au

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mangoisms · 1 year ago

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Heyy it's yj anon

With my midterms officially over, I can finally make time to read again. Thank you for the help with No Man's Land; I'm not well-versed with storylines prior to the 2010s unless regarding specific characters...but I'm working on it.

I initially started off as a Damian fan and only read stories that pertained to him and Talia (it's been rough). I read Red Robin on a whim after seeing some of my Twitter mutuals speak so highly of the series, and I absolutely loved the storyline (minus the last few issues; I also hate how Tam was treated. It was fairly iffy throughout the run, but it was further emphasized in the final issues; there is so much to say about the entire mess that was love interests, but that's for another day). The art style is nice as well, I understand why people are so fond of Tim during that era. Though I figured with no prior knowledge of Tim's character, it was a rough place to begin understanding his characterization. So, I started reading some of his older material, and it's been very interesting!!! I just started Robin 93, but Young Justice has taken up a majority of my attention. The silliness of the first issue with dumb gags about nuns in a station wagon filled with explosives, Tornado finding the trio so annoying it brought forth whatever humanity was left in him...I just couldn't stop scrolling. Safe to say, I am fairly invested in Tim (and Bart, he's just so younger-cousin-coded it's endearing), I plan to go back and read his Robin run (along with Impulse) once winter break allows me the time to properly read and analyze.

I haven't been following you long, so I'm unsure if you've answered this question prior, but what initially got you into Tim's character? (that wording sounds a little off, sorry.) But besides that, I hope you're doing okay and that midterms have been going well! Midterms beat me to a pulp, so I hope all is good on your end lolol

oh man i’m sorry this is so late! i had wanted to get around to answering this when you sent it but i got distracted. glad to hear your midterms are finally over! mine are too, thankfully T_T and of course! happy to help!

red robin was an interesting run… tim is Quite Annoying there and his relationship with tam (and um. women in general there) was a bit Eh. i used to like it but i think that was just the pretty art influencing me LMAO by now it’s just Meh especially because of the way he treats tam and steph and just generally acts. but again you are right that it is a Rough Place for his character. though i would also say that were it not for the grief and general dramatics of the situation, it’s probably reasonably honest? for his character i mean but that’s just me hehe. you’ll see some hints of it in robin 1993 i think but young justice 1998 really helps soften some of it just because it is a more light-hearted one! it’s definitely a lot of fun! i need to pick up my reading for it again tbh but i’m torn between that and reading for diana.. alas

oooh what got me into tim… initially i didn’t like him! i was into jason when i first got into dc and my exposure to tim wasn’t great… i got more accustomed to him through fics but it’s always been a bit grudging on my end LMAO, more of like a ‘i can fix him’ type of situation or at least one where his flaws—because he has Many—are highlighted and confronted. or sometimes assumed to have been taken care of, which is an assumption i welcome when it comes to my own fics. that is a large part of why i like him actually—that he has sooooo many issues. i’m veryyy critical of him HAHA it’s kind of why i’m turning away from whump fics regarding him, just because i’m like… he is not an angel compared to the others LMAOOOO so… yeah. it’s reluctant. and honestly these days </3 he annoys me LMAOOOOOOO it’s weird i know but. he’s like a chew toy to me

ANYWAY thank you sm for this ask!!! hope you’re doing well!! take care of yourself!!!

#i knowww it’s weird considering i’ve written like almost 100k for him #BUT in fairness. Things have changed since i was writing those fics #anyway. yeah. thank you for this again!!! hope you’re doing well!! <3 #inbox #anonymous #should probably come up with a tag for you… perhaps…

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zorilleerrant · 1 year ago

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people complain about the fandom making any given Bat character's parents abusive, and how that has Some Implications when you do it to that character, but like -

people have Bruce's parents be cold, distant, unloving, with unstable tempers constantly turning on him, secret bigots, people who never wanted a child, or people who tried to have other people raise him entirely, and say he forgot because he was too young and he ended up keeping only the very best memories.

people have Dick's parents be intentionally part of whatever secret cabal, grooming him, emotionally manipulating him and withholding praise, intentionally training him to one day be an evil villain, and he didn't figure it out until later, after their deaths.

people have Jason's dad be an abusive husband and father who takes out his frustrations with his low quality of life on his son, and his mother be too high to ever look after him, with other adults in his life just looking to exploit him.

people have Tim's dad beat and traffic him, and his mother constantly try to get rid of him, even going so far as to hire people to stage an accident, or they just leave him alone for months at a time with no access to help or support.

people have Steph's dad lock her in torture boxes from babyhood, forcing her to answer riddles in order to get fed and intentionally scarring her to make sure she remembers answers, and her mother laugh at her or claim it never happened.

people have Cass's dad never spend time with her and leave all her training to other people, and every time he gets near her radiate hatred and disappointment, and be glad when she runs away so he doesn't have to deal with her anymore. they have her mom sadistically torture her or attempt to, and want to kill her out of jealousy and bitterness.

people have Damian's mom completely abandon him and bring him out only for show, or revel in pushing him past the breaking point and even to his death over and over again, and invent stepfather OCs just so they can abuse him.

people have Helena's dad/stepdad molest her and her mom either totally ignore it or abandon her, sometimes even abandon her on the streets when her dad gets bored of her.

people have Babs's mom regularly beat her, or forget her so often she has chronic health problems as a young child and has to be legally separated and taken to her dad, and then they have his partners (canon or OC) continue to abuse her.

people make Alfred's parents so scary that he joined the military hoping he would die rather than go home to them, or ran away to a totally different country to hide from them. people make Selina's parents sell her as a baby. people make Kate's dad beat her and blame her for her mom's death. people make Talia's dad constantly beat and overwork her while he screams bigoted vitriol at her day in day out, and her mom abandoned her to it. people make the never or barely mentioned parents of any random side character and make them severely emotionally abusive, moderately physically abusive, and then sprinkle some financial or social or religious abuse on top, then make them homophobic/transphobic.

you guys I think the Batfandom just has a lot of people who don't get along great with their parents

#look i said something

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sassysadisticsarcasms · 2 years ago

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DPxDC Crossover Prompt/Headcanon

I’m not opposed to the idea of Jason being a halfa... I’m just of the opinion that full ghost Jason works so much better mainly because the halfa version has a great deal many plot holes.

The main one being the fact that Jason is just dead. He is literally corpse par crowbar. Dropping him a pool of liquid death is not exactly going to bring back an already unalived individual.

Here’s were the DP crossover aspect comes in.

Instead of being ground zero for the formation of a catastrophic evisceration of spacetime and becoming the perfect split between two dimensions like Danny, Jason is just kind of kurplunked into some nice ol’ ectoplasmic sewage as a premade, prepackaged corpse.

Basically, what I’m imagining is when Talia tosses ded Jason into the Pit he just kind of... sinks. I imagine the viscosity of ectoplasm being less water-like and more like that one episode of Myth Busters when they swim through maple syrup.

Talia is just watching Jason slowly sink into this extremely viscous, stick liquid like shit, shit, shit, shit, because, yuck, syrup don’t like hair.

For the sake of prosperity, lets say Jason was already going to form into a ghost. Not only does his non-consensual sewage dive speed up the process of him becoming a ghost, it also locks said ghost in his corpse. The Pit was essentially so sludge his ghost was like ‘meh’ and decided path of least resistance.

This turns Jason into an undead something-rather, up to the writer’s deliberation. (I’m very disinclined towards zombies due to a certain traumatic event during my childhood, so preferably not that.)

From there the writer can really just go whatever angle they want. Maybe the zone spits him out back into Gotham, maybe lady Gotham comes for him, or Danny comes along and is like that’s not right.

I would like to say, he has a book obsession instead of that nasty revenge crap. Let my library boy be an antisocial bookworm goddamnit! This is my hill and I will die upon it like Danny’s childhood!

#jason todd #bruce wayne #batman #robin #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #ghost writer #the ghost zone #lady gotham #lazarus pit #dp headcanons #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #talia al ghul

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redrobbingabank · 2 years ago

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Batfam in a Bakery

Alright I’ve been working at a bakery for a month and a half now so I’ve begun envisioning a scenario where the Batfam must go undercover and work at a bakery.

Jason is the chef. He wakes up at one in the morning(a.k.a. finishes patrol) and comes in to make some of the best food. He makes a lot of recipes he learned from Talia in the League, lots from Alfred, and a few from his mom. Once the boss attempted to tell him that that wasn’t what they served. Jason just glared at him until he went away. His stuff sells better anyway. He’s also lowkey stressed the entire time, and if anyone brushes past him he will SCREAM.

Tim was told that he gets free coffee and. Oh boy. He took advantage of that. Like, at least a pt of coffee is consumed solely by him every day. The worst part is that it’s not even good coffee. No one else can stomach it, but Tim shows up and pours it into like a gallon sized metal water bottle while everyone watches in horror. He really hates talking to people, though, and there’s enough of them that sometimes he hides in the back and does case work. If someone tells him to do something he’ll do dishes, but if he’s forced to serve people he has the best customer service facade.

Dick steals snacks because he forgets to eat, and makes Tim eat snacks because he also forgets. One time, he tried to help Jason. This lead to Jason developing Alfred-like sense for when another Wayne tries to touch a cooking utensil. Dick got flipped over Jason’s shoulder when he tried to grab a whisk. He’s the one Tim and Cass ask to get the plates down for cause they’re too short.

Damian is too young to legally work. He hides out under the guise of Jason’s ‘cute little brother’. To help, he has taken on the duty of guarding the kitchen from Dick’s help attempts and Tim’s occasional sabotage attempts. He regularly asks Jason to make treats for him to give his pets. If he manages to stop someone in a particularly funny way, Jason will do so. Damian has also beaten up a customer who made a racist remark towards him. The others did nothing but sit and watch...well Jason kind of picked up a knife, Cass stood threateningly behind him, Tim quickly found the guy’s social security number and ‘borrowed’ thirty grand, Steph cheered Dami on, and Dick tripped him on his way out.

Because she doesn’t talk much, Cass generally just works on keeping the place clean or filling orders that were called ahead for. She’s also got a knack for frosting cookies. Sometimes she enlists Damian’s help, and the two of them can decorate insanely fast. People will swear that she doesn’t exist and the shop is cleaned by magic because she’s just Like That. In fact, some people will return just to see if they can find her. People say that they’ve had their coffee topped off and never seen a thing.

Steph runs customer service point along with Dick. She has a good memory for faces, so anytime she recognizes someone connected to the case they’re working, she signals Tim to note it and get whatever information they need. While getting ready to open, she’s gotten really attached to arranging the display to look pretty. Tim has caught her pouring out his gross-ass coffee multiple times. She also likes taking out the trash and recyclables because, according to her, it’s too hot to be inside for long amounts of time.

Extras:

The floor near the sink where they wash dishes is Slippery. Like, take whatever you think slippery means and multiply it by ten. Add two. That’s what it’s like. They have ALL gone down. When it happened, Dick had to go home and climb on the chandelier to reassure himself that he could still be called an acrobat. Tim and Steph have both busted stitches falling. Everytime he’s fallen(6 and counting, Tim’s started trying to film it), Damian has let out a string of swears that make Jason break down laughing and Dick hyperventilate. Cass, of course, is the one exception. She can run on that floor.

Dishwashing water: Jason and Cass will make it so hot that you can see steam and handle it fine. Tim and Dami use the same, but they’re just trying to look cool(the water temp you use for dishes does not in fact make you more or less cool) and can only be in direct contact with it for five seconds or less. Dick and Steph use cold water. They have, several times, tried to quickly wash their hands with the steaming water and every time has led to them falling over because they jumped on the Death Floor. Jason has sprayed Dick with the hot water. Steph has sprayed Tim with cold water. Damian has sprayed everyone with the hot water. When he did it to Cass, no one knows what happened, but when he got back to the Manor, he was soaked.

#batman #BatFam #batfam headcanon #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #dick grayson #steph brown #cassandra cain #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #batfam au

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i-aint-even-bovvered · 2 years ago

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I mean, it wouldn't leave my head last night. Here are the thoughts that pretty much kept me awake last night, and since I can't get them out of my head, I shall inflict them on all of you.

This turned out very long, so I'll put a cut after the points about Jason's childhood, because I shall not force you to read the sad bits.

And also I don't feel like putting all the explanations of the Jewish stuff in this post, so if you don't know a term, you can either ask me or Rabbi Google.

I think Jason is the only batkid who decides to convert after being taken in by Bruce. Everyone else likes participating in some of the holidays with Bruce (especially the food), but Jason is the only one actually interested in converting

After reading all the Jewish texts Bruce has in his library (or at least, the ones written in English) (it doesn't take long), he asks Bruce if he can go to shul with him.

Jason loves the tunes of the prayers, even though he can't follow along. He also loves the attention from the old women he meets at the kiddush who put too much milk in their low-quality tea and pinch his cheeks and say he has a "shayne punim," whatever that means.

Bruce cringes a little, remembering when he got that treatment on shabbat mornings, but it also reminds him of going to shul with his mother, so it makes him smile.

After going a few weekends in a row, he asks Bruce to get him some textbooks on Hebrew, so he can learn to read the prayers.

A few weeks later, he approaches Bruce in a panic, because, you see, he is TWELVE! He needs to go through the beit din right NOW so he can have his Bar Mitzvah!

This confuses Bruce because when did his kid learn about conversion? (Bruce does not know what texts he has in his library)

They go through with it as quickly as possible because Jason is just TOO EXCITED to finally be Jewish! The mikveh feels like waking up for the first time.

He goes to Hebrew school and engages with their lessons so much that the other kids fondly start calling him "Rav Jason." He wears it like a badge of honor.

He chooses his Hebrew name as Yaakov Pinchas because he wants to have his Hebrew initials match

Bruce does Not Cry at Jason's Bar Mitzvah. The whole League has been invited, and if anyone saw Bruce cry, no they didn't.

He gives Jason a Jewish funeral. That's what he would have wanted. He lets everyone see him cry, here, for the little boy who only wanted to be a full part of Bruce's family.

Dick doesn't know how to mourn in the Jewish faith, but he does his best approximation of sitting shiva at his own apartment in Bludhaven.

Even in the addled state of digging himself out of his own grave, there is a part deep inside Jason that recognizes the rocks on his headstone.

Before he has his memories back, Talia sometimes hears a weak voice chanting prayers from the mouth of a boy who has forgotten what they mean but remembers the comfort.

The Lazarus Pit is nothing like a mikveh. It burns like the explosion that killed him. But he is awake.

He justifies his killing of criminals saying it is pikuach nefesh. He is saving others through their deaths. He doesn't care about his own soul. He has already died.

The rocks on his grave feel hollow when he finds out he's been replaced. He can find no pictures from the period after his death where Bruce has a beard. Did Bruce even mourn him at all?

(He doesn't know that Clark took over as Batman during the period of shloshim.)

When he comes back to the family, he stays away from going to shul. He doesn't know how he could handle it.

He decides to go back during the High Holidays. It's crowded, then, so he can keep his head down and hope no one recognizes him.

On certain nights, he patrols around the shul as Red Hood because he knows the type of people who would attack it live in Gotham.

There are certain nights where the men of the community also keep watch outside. They invite Red Hood in for a drink. Jason is hesitant to take off his helmet and go inside, but he accepts.

If the younger men in the group notice that they've invited Rav Jason to have a glass of scotch, no one mentions it.

Thinking about... Jewish Jason Todd

#Jason Todd #Jewish Jason Todd #Jewish Batfamily headcanons #Batfamily #Batfam

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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The Brother's Keeper

A Dick Grayson and Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, References to Past Abuse

Author's Note: Another story edited and re-posted! Enjoy! -Thorne

Despite having not lived at the manor for almost a decade, she still knew every hallway and room like the back of her hand, every sound was a familiar net of reassurance she could count on. The hum of the hidden wall closing behind her, the creaking of the third step from the top that they always avoided, the clicking the bats above made. She descended the steps into the cave, balancing the heavy manila files in one hand, the other holding two protein shakes, knowing her father probably hadn’t consumed nutrition in at least a few hours since he called her.

Her eyes fell on him where he sat at the Batcomputer; he’d changed out of his suit and was in a pair of joggers and a long sleeve shirt. She walked over, setting the files down beside the keyboard. “Here’s the files you asked about, dad. I alphabetized them too…and color tabbed ‘em but that’s not important.”

He glanced at her with a warm smile before nodding and turning back to the screen. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you doing so.”

She leaned an arm on the back of the chair, propping her chin on his shoulder as she stared at the screen. “New antidote for Scarecrow’s toxin?”

“He’s synthesized a new formula, so I need to make a new antidote in case anyone gets gassed,” he replied, tapping at the screen until the numbers were apparently in approval with whatever he was thinking about—who knew.

She hummed, taking note of the lack of noise. “Where’re the chuckle-heads?”

He chuckled and tipped his head towards the locker room. “They put their suits away and went to change.” She nodded again and patted his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the room.

When she got there, she didn’t see them, but she could hear them harking on one another in the locker room, and she moved in that direction. She stepped into the room and took in the image of the four of her brothers standing in front of the mirrors in their underwear, pointing at each other like they were shocked to see the other.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked, unblinkingly.

Their heads shot up and they saw her; Dick greeted, “(Y/N)! What are you doing here? You usually don’t come to the manor.”

(Y/N) shrugged and stepped inside, taking a seat on one of the cool metal benches. “Dad needed some files over a few previous encounters I’ve had with galactic enemies. And me being here brings me back to my original question.” She gestured to them with a wave of a hand, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you guys in your tighty-whities?”

They snorted, and Jason turned around. “We’re comparing scars.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’. “Of course, you are.” She paused for a second and observed them. “Who’s got the gnarliest one?” Immediately, they pointed at Damian who simply motioned to his chest, and she looked at the faded scar that rested over his heart.

A frown instantly drew her lips, and Damian, being ever so vigilant, caught it and shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, sister. You tried to save me.”

She met his eyes and murmured, “I didn’t try hard enough.” She glanced at Jason, seeing the scars line his chest, her voice just as soft. “For either of you.”

Jason’s lips pulled downwards, and he walked over, sitting on the bench beside her. “The fact that you tried is good enough for us, Queenie.” He reached out, patting her head.

She sighed and shook it off, giving them a smile before she turned to Tim. “Any on you Nerd-bird?”

He grinned and turned around, running his hand along a scar that rested along the left side of his ribs. “When I fought Ra’s, he got me right here.”

(Y/N) looked at it, then leaned back, a curious look in her eye. “Other than dad, aren’t you the only person he’s called ‘detective’?” Tim gave her a firm nod and she pulled a grin, nodding at him. “Look at the Nerd-bird kicking all our asses in the game. I’m proud of you.” He gave her a sheepish smile and she turned to Dick. “We’ve all had brushes with death, but I don’t think you have a lot of noticeable ones. Which is surprising because out of all of us, you’re the most reckless.”

The others laughed while Dick glared at her, then he shrugged and showed his back, and they saw faint white lines that resembled lightning strikes. “When Wally came back out of the speed force, he accidentally shocked me. Of course, it wasn’t enough to damage me severely, but it’s here.”

They looked at him once more, then Tim tipped his head to the side. “What about you, sis? You’ve been doing this longer than we have. Do you have any good ones?” (Y/N) looked at him before pulling off her jacket and pulling off the tank top she had on. She stood up, walking to the mirror and staring into it.

She pointed to one that lined across her left breast. “Even covered by my bra, you can see how badly this one was.” She paused running a hand down it, gaze far. “When Jason died, I got into it with Joker some time after.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to Jason’s, who’s were wide with shock. “I beat him worse than dad did, but he left me with this one before I did.”

“I…didn’t know you did that, Queenie.”

“Of course not Jason. I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) pointed to a patch that rested on her right hip. “Took a bullet for Tim a few years ago.”

“That was when Deadshot was running around, right?”

She nodded, answering his question. “Mhm. They say he never misses. But that day, he did.” Her hand moved and she touched a curved scar that ran down her neck. “After you died, Damian, I found Talia and we had it out.”

“What happened?” he questioned curiously.

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror and frowned. “She and I gave each other a fair share of wounds…but I think the ones I gave her hurt more than the ones she gave me.”

“And those were?”

(Y/N) looked back at her reflection and stared at herself. “The infuriated words of a grieving sister.”

Silence enveloped the room and after a few moments, Dick pointed to a particular scar on her back that ran down the length of it. “How in the world did you get that one?”

She looked over her shoulder and reached behind her, fingers brushing over the raised, jagged skin that had sealed unevenly. “On my back?”

Dick snorted and nodded. “The only one on your back sis.”

She went silent for a moment then she admitted, “…Tarantula gave it to me a few years ago.”

No one noticed the way Dick froze for a split second at her admittance, and Jason asked, “Why did you and Tarantula get into it?”

Her eyes met Dick’s for a flash before she looked at Jason. “She killed an informant of mine and I got even with her.”

“Looks like she rocked your shit, Queenie.”

The others laughed, save for her and Dick, then (Y/N) muttered darkly, “I beat Catalina Flores within an inch of her life that night.” Her statement brought their laughter to a grinding halt, and she continued. “Hell, I almost killed her. But I didn’t.”

Damian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why not? It would not be the first time you’ve killed someone.”

(Y/N) rolled her shoulders and moved back to her clothes, pulling on the tank top and jacket before turning to him. “Because then she would’ve gotten of scot free, and she wouldn’t have to live knowing what she’s done.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed and he followed Damian, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers. “Not to be nosey, but the way you’re talking about her almost seems like you’ve got a vendetta against her. And I mean like, me to Bruce vendetta.”

(Y/N) met his gaze before reaching down and tossing his muscle tank to him, then passing the others their shirts. “The informant she killed was a good friend of mine. There was…a lot of fury.” She paused, meeting Dick’s gaze once more. “There still is.”

The others simply stared at her before pulling on their shirts, and she looked at them. “I’m gonna get dad to go out and eat somewhere with me. You guys go on out and start working on him, would you?” The three nodded and started towards the door, (Y/N) following.

She was almost out of the door when Dick’s voice reached her quietly. “…(Y/N)?” She paused, turning around, and looking at Dick, who wore an unreadable expression; he glanced up at her, his eyes searching as he inquired, “Was there another reason that you two fought?”

“Me and Catalina?” He nodded and she shrugged. “There might’ve been. But the immediate fight was about my informant.”

Dick stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “…You didn’t start your informant network until I donned Batman.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back and leaned against the door frame, eyes narrowed as she mentally picked his words apart as only an older sister could. “What are you getting at, kid brother?”

He fell silent all at once, but when he finally found it in himself to bring his eyes to hers, she saw such pain in them. “Did you fight her…because of me?”

“No,” she immediately replied, firmly and confidently.

Dick’s eyes widened momentarily, but he looked down and nodded. “I see.”

She kept staring at him, then cleared her throat and turned, grabbing the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stopped, murmuring, “Dick.” He glanced up at her, but she faced forward and said, “I don’t know what happened to you in Blüdhaven all those years ago, and frankly, it’s none of my business.”

Dick’s heart sunk at her words, but then she looked over her shoulder, a solemn tone matching her stance and gaze as she affirmed, “But I am your sister…and I run the best damn informant network this side of the galaxy.” She paused, her words taking on an underlying tone. “There isn’t anything that happens in Gotham and our sister city that I don’t know about.”

Something passed between their eyes and she declared, “I am the family keeper. And I will always be the safety net that catches everyone when they’re in their darkest hours. When there’s something you can’t handle, I will for you.”

Her words made his eyes shine with unshed tears and she gave him a faint smile and a wink before she stepped out of the locker room, leaving him sitting alone, his thoughts drifting back to the rooftop in Blüdhaven.

***

She walked across the floor of the cave to see her father standing there, Jason and Tim hanging off his arms and Damian around his neck; he wore the expression of a tired dad and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Having fun, dad?”

He shifted slowly as to not knock one of her brothers off and glared at her. “This is your fault.”

“Guilty as charged father dearest! But it’s food time! Let’s get street tacos.”

Jason grunted at her and shook his head. “No, let’s get gyros!”

“Gyros are disgusting, Jason.”

His features contorted in something only described as an insulted disbelief and he declared, “Just because you don’t like limes and lemons, does not mean gyros are gross, (Y/N).”

“We’re not getting gyros, Jason,” she shot back.

“What about Chinese food?”

(Y/N) looked at Damian and nodded. “I’m down for tacos or Chinese.”

“Can we stop and get some shawarma?”

“Tim, which part of tacos or Chinese sounded like shawarma to you? It’s one or the other. Take your pick.”

“But last night was pizza night! And if I eat Chinese or tacos, I’m going to eat more carbs than I need!”

“You do need more carbs, twig-boy.”

“That was mean, sis.”

“Truthful. I mean how have you not been snapped in half yet? You look like a toothpick.”

The others laughed at her comments, and Bruce looked at her. “Where’s Dick?”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the lockers. “Still changing.” She motioned to the stairs. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait on Dickie.” They nodded, and she watched her father trudge past with her three brothers hanging off him.

A smile crossed her lips and a few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her. “Where’d everybody go?”

She turned around and nodded to the stairs. “Told them to go ahead and get ready.” (Y/N) had barely made it up the first ten steps when she felt Dick stop beside her, and she glanced back at him. “Dick? You good?”

He gazed up at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She gave him a knowing look and said, “I didn’t do anything, Dick.”

“You did.”

“Agree to disagree.” They stared at each other for a second then she tipped her head to the stairs. “Let’s go get some food, kid brother.”

He nodded and started climbing the steps beside her. “I don’t tell you enough, sis…but I love you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “God, you are so sentimental.”

“It’s one of my perks.”

“More like a curse…but yeah…it is.” She paused and he stopped beside her, and she reached over, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you too, little brother.” His arms wound around her, and they shared a moment before she patted his back. “Alright. Let go. I’m done being overly affectionate.”

He laughed, letting her go and she walked up ahead of him. He kept his eyes trained to her back, and he remembered something she once told him.

The two of them walked silently down the twisting and turning garden path, following the little white concrete plates that made the trail. Dick looked up from his hands, calling out to the older girl in front of him. “(Y/N)?”

She hummed in response but didn’t look at him. “What is it, Dickie?”

“Why won’t you let me walk beside you?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “Because I’m protecting you.”

His head tipped to the side and he stopped walking. “But were at the manor?”

“And something could always happen. I’m in the front, so that if something comes, I can protect you while you run.” She turned around and looked at him. “One day you’ll be old enough to walk beside me instead of behind me.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he jumped excitedly. “When! When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind!”

(Y/N) giggled at her little brother and reached out, holding his shoulders to stop him from jumping up and down. “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore…you can walk beside me.”

“When will that be?”

(Y/N) pulled her hands away and spun back around, continuing her walk. “When it happens…you’ll know.” It was all the answer she gave the young boy, but he continued following her, still behind.

Dick blinked, the memory flashing away as fast as it had come, and he saw her back once more; he called out to her. “When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind?”

(Y/N) halted, mid-step and she glanced over her shoulder, a faint smile playing her lips as she replied, “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore, you can walk beside me.”

“And when will that be?”

She huffed a laugh chuckled at him before she turned back around, though she paused just as she was about to cross the threshold and peered back at him. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to that one, sis.”

(Y/N) shrugged and turned back around, declaring, “Then I guess you still need me to protect you.”

Dick watched her disappear into the manor, listening as she got into the argument that her brothers were bickering about with each other, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah…I guess I still do.”

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remakethestars · 4 years ago

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Being Batman’s Daughter Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Listen, Robin. At their core, people are cowardly and self-serving. Trust no one until you know them. And even then, never completely.❞

— Bruce Wayne, “The Lesson Plan”

TRIGGER WARNING: Plant murder. Mentions of drugs/tranqs (stopping dealers), violence/physical harm, broken bones (knee cap), limb dislocation (shoulder), (Jason’s) death, smoke, waterboarding/drowning?

Headcanon masterlist.

You know how every teenager has that paradigm shift because as much as they love the people around them, they’ll never know the inner workings of your psyche? And they realize they’ll never truly be known? And it makes them feel really lonely?

Yeah, you never come to feel like that because you know Bruce digs so far into everyone around him he probably knows you better than you do.

Honestly, he probably reads your diary. At least, he reads the fake one you hide under your mattress. And the second decoy in the A.C. vent above your dresser.

If you’re as paranoid as Bruce, you probably don’t have a diary, and the aforementioned “decoys” are just to mess with him.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was practically your Bible growing up.

You’re torn between giving yourself the tactical advantage of being underestimated & being non-reactive, which — besides giving you the lioness role in the lion–gazelle dynamic — gives you the advantage of having time to think carefully on the repercussions before speaking.

Because, as Sun Tzu said in chapter seven, verse twenty-one, “Ponder and deliberate before you make a move.”

Seeing as Bruce and Damian both have eidetic memories, I’m guessing you do too.

Which means you totally read the dictionary when you were young and whip our big words nobody’s heard of.

Bruce always assured you it’s okay to be scared. As a matter of fact, like he told Dick (seen in flashbacks in “The Lesson Plan”), he taught you to “Let terror embrace you. The better you know fear, the better you can use it against others.”

And we all know Bruce is the paragon of using fear against people.

Take that, Scarecrow!

(See, I chose that gif because earlier in that move, he displays a fear of bats, & in that scene, he summons them to use as a distraction and walks through them completely unperturbed. No? Okay, I’ll see myself out.)

You started into the vigilante business young, a little bulge under the back of Batman’s cape that made the rest of the Justice League in the meeting think Bruce was host to an alien parasite until your little mask-covered eyes poked up over his shoulder.

The League’s known you since you were young, so they kind of all see you as their niece. That just quadruples the amount of people who are overprotective of you.

Eventually, in your tweens, you think enough’s enough and start out on your own — being underestimated may be an advantage, but it’s getting ridiculous — and you tackle unsolved cases.

You set up various safe houses around the world for your own disposal (using the zeta tubes) and anyone who sees the inside of one in an emergency is always surprised. You don’t really understand why; what serious vigilante doesn’t have secure, state-of-the-art safe locations scattered across the planet?

Sometimes, it gets you into danger, but you always get yourself out of it. If there ever comes a time you can’t, well, you’ve got a direct link to Batman, and if communications fail, you can always yell for your Uncle Clark at the top of your lungs.

If the latter ever comes to fruition, you ask Bruce if he’s disappointed you had to call for back-up or that you called Superman instead of Batman, and he says, “It takes a strong person to admit when they’re weak, [Y/N]; if anything, I’m proud of you. Besides … you’re not the only one who yells for Uncle Clark when they get in over their head.”

Your training entailed hacking and mechanics, so you like to fix computers and sell them on the internet Hugh Jeffreys style. It started out with Macs from the dumpster behind Gotham Academy and turned into a surprising side hustle. Large portions of your profits go into either savings or funding your extracurricular activities.

You’re using a MacBook that’s running Linux and an iPhone 4 that’s running your own program.

At some point, your phone falls into the wrong hands, and someone asks why it has such high security. You deadpan and say, “I have three older brothers.” No further explanation required.

One such solo case led you to a ring of drug dealers working in a small town outside of Gotham. You made some tranquillizers and heavy-duty smoke bombs and busted out your shinobi-iri training.

After sliding on a mask covering the bottom half of your face that filtered out smoke, you set all of the bombs off at once in the ventilation system, filling the building and using the infrared in your domino mask to sedate everyone before the cops arrived so no one got hurt (because there would inevitably be a firefight if the cops got involved).

You never go into a situation expecting to go hand-to-hand with someone; you always have a plan to take our your targets quickly an efficiently.

One night, when you’re working on a cold case in Gotham, you stumble across some intel that Poison Ivy’s been stockpiling chemicals and is going to wipe out all human life on Earth.

Luckily for you, Bruce’s paranoia is hereditary; you just happen to carry some white kryptonite in your belt, so you won’t have to go all the way back to the cave to obtain some.

You type out a quick debrief on your wrist computer in case you end up needing to send out an S.O.S., pop on your bottom mask to filter out spores or pheromones she might send in your direction, and bust out your shinobi-iri training again.

Of course, you try the peaceful approach, explaining to Ivy that you agree with her on the tree-hugger front to build rapport (T.B.F., who doesn’t?), but it comes to physical confrontation. You kill every vine that comes your way with a quick punch from your kryptonite ring, toss an expanding polyurethane foam bomb (see Batgirl #38) at her feet, and manage to get an inhibitor collar on her.

Gordon takes her away, and by the next morning, it’s on the news.

“You took down Ivy by yourself?” Bruce asks when you come down for breakfast.

“… Yeah,” you say after a moment, expecting a tongue-lashing.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. She didn’t get a hit in. And before you ask, I had a contingency set up in case things went sideways.”

“… Good job.”

Your dad has the article framed in the batcave, which is the bat-equivalent of having your drawing on the fridge or getting a sticker back on a test.

You’re fighting a grin for the rest of the day.

It bugs you you can’t tell anyone why you’re so happy, so you visit Dick in Blüdhaven while he’s on patrol and give him a play-by-play. You even get a hair-ruffle!

Deathstroke targets you at some point. One of Batman and Nightwing’s worst villains, and he targets you because he knows they love you. You’re the smallest bat at the time, the weakest; he thinks you’ll be the easiest to take.

Boy, was he wrong.

He was trained by the League of Assassins, so you know dropping a smoke bomb’s not going to give you cover (and his mask probably has infrared). His brain processes faster than yours, so tricking him is improbable. He’s probably done enough research on you to know you favor foam bombs and has fast enough reflexes to dodge before they go off.

And he’s jammed your comms so you can’t call for backup. You’re worried he’s got kryptonite on him and will hurt Superman if you call for help.

It’s just you and him.

He has enhanced stamina, so he tries to wear you out. You maintain distance to avoid taking damage and wearing faster.

You always admired Tim for his ability to plan ahead (see, like, the entirety of the Red Robin comics). He doesn’t know how he does it; he just does. He can’t really teach you, so you just watch and learn.

You realize your fight with Slade is just a matter of managing the distance and immobilizing him, so you strike. You duck behind a pillar or grab onto a railing or something and shoot him through the thigh with your grappling gun, reeling him in. He, of course, draws his sword or a knife to cut the line, but you’re already throwing high-density expanding polyurethane bombs.

And, just like that, you’ve single-handedly taken Deathstroke.

It sends a clear message to the rest of the Gotham villains, Blüdhaven’s villains, the League of Assassins — don’t mess with the bat’s little girl. She can hold her own.

Now it’s time for you to come up with another plan to take him down; you doubt the same method will work twice, and you’ve just made a very powerful enemy.

As Wonder Woman’s said, “Do not mistake a desire to avoid violence for an inability to deal with it.” You might go into most situations with a plan to take down your opponent already in motion, but when it comes to an all-out brawl, you’re perfectly capable and don’t pull your punches.

You’re working on an unsolved case in Blüdhaven (Dick’s got enough on his plate) when you get an S.O.S. from the aforementioned along with the feed and recording from his mask. You listen to the mission briefing while you ride back to the cave and then the audio from the Young Justice mission. They got jumped by the League of Shadows in an abandoned factory, and Talia’s trying to coerce Damian into joining the League or whatever.

The usual dropping some smoke bombs and tranqing everyone isn’t going to work on thirty armed League assassins who were trained to fight blind, so you load up on polyurethane foam bombs and call Jason and Cassandra.

The three of you take out the guards outside before splitting up and taking either end of the building (Cass stays with you). You meet in the middle, in the room the team’s being held in.

You highjacked the speakers, so they’re blasting AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” upon Jason’s insistence. You wanted Zayde Wølf or Alice Cooper’s “Hey, Stoopid,” but big brothers will be big brothers.

Jason pops them with rubber bullets from above to slow them down for you while Cass demolishes them and you drop foam bombs, slinging your signature custom shuriken, bonk them over the head with Tim’s staff you picked up along the way, dislocate their arms, or shatter their kneecaps.

You and Jason get a couple slices from swords that got a little too close, but it’s nothing compared to what you’ve had before.

When the fighting’s done and the building’s quiet, the team’s, like, “Who the heck are you guys?”

And Dick’s, like, 😏 “They’re our siblings.”

Speaking of siblings, you’re older than Damian, and as such, you take upon yourself the honor of teaching him all things pop-culture.

“I have a lot of amazing older siblings. I want to be a good big sister.”

First things first, you give him one of your refurbished e-waste phones and take him to Target to pick out an OtterBox or a LifeProof case or something that’ll keep it safe in the pocket of a vigilante.

Vigilantes are always coming to you when their phone’s broken anyway; you’ve got a stack of spares you’ve repaired.

Then you help him set up a Spotify account (follow me at @remakethestars 😉) and try to help him find his rhythm.

Poor child’s never had Oreos before, so you drag a pack of Double Stuffs out of the cabinet and a glass of milk and show him the best milk-dunking method you know.

You think about handing him a cookie and telling him to waterboard it until the bubbles stop coming up, but cookie-dunking is something every kid does; it’s sacred, and you don’t want him to associate it with violence.

You show him how you and Alfred feed the bats in the batcave.

And you show him Vine compilations and your favorite shows and movies and as many classics as you can, and you put up with him pointing out the inaccuracies and calling them stupid.

Every time he doesn’t get a reference, you write it down so you know what to show him later.

If anything ever happens to you, Damian finds your list and makes it his personal mission to watch/read everything on it. It makes him feel close to you.

You build a relationship with him that’s similar to his and Dick’s, and he comes to you with things he might not be able to come to anyone else with.

Plus, since you live in the manor still and he doesn’t want Bruce to think less of him, it’s you he comes to after a nightmare.

If you know Alfred has pictures of him curled up in your side, you ask him to send them to you. Not for blackmail purposes; just to have.

You’d never use the need of comfort or the sharing of emotions against him because (A) it’s perpetuating toxic masculinity and (B) you don’t want him to think it’s wrong or confirm any of the stupid “strength” things the League of Shadows taught him.

You gave him a stuffed cat that looks like Alfred (the cat, not the butler) with some of your perfume spritzed on it. He verbalized his revulsion when you gave it to him, but on nights he has a bad dream and you’re not home, it brings him comfort.

Titus comes to get you when Damian’s upset.

Even when he’s not with Damian, he seems to know. Pets are like that.

You’ve learned to trust Titus’s instincts. Damian thinks it’s suspicious when he’s feeling down and you just happen to call.

You never realized it until a long time later, but Ace was acting weird the day Jason came back from the dead.

And he was acting weird the day Jason came back to Gotham too. He ran to the door and began barking. Alfred swept security, but nothing seemed to be off. The whole family was on edge that day.

You were the reason Jason knew he wasn’t completely forgotten; he spotted you through a café window, and you were wearing his jacket.

Visit my headcanon masterlist.

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bigskydreaming · 2 years ago

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And here’s another thing:

I haven’t been nearly as active on here the past almost-a-year as I’ve been in years prior to that. And I am working on changing that, but there’s a marked difference, and it plays into how much I’m reblogged and my posts passed around, compared to in prior years. And I’m aware of that, but I’m trying to do better about being AWARE of that.

Because I’m not oblivious to how my own posts have impacted fandom over the years, for I am a vocal and persistent....person. Yeah, let’s go with that word. And its not like I think most of my posts were wildly off base now or anything like that - I like to think I’ve always been fairly good at making known when I think I made a wrong call or said something I didn’t mean or regret after thinking about it. But I am in a space now where I’m a lot more particular about how accurate or nuanced I am about various takes, especially ones that dig into the heart of the themes and stories that drew me to a lot of my fave characters in the first place.

However, lengthy, earnest rambles about thoroughly informed takes on every angle I see to a particular character interaction or story - when I tend to see a LOT of angles, and actually try to as my goal - let’s be real, these kinds of posts just do not take off and garner notes and reblogs to the same degree that punchy soundbites, aggressive defenses or accusatory call-outs about others in fandom do.

Not to mention...as much as shitposts or tongue-in-cheek jokes that are the extreme opposite of nuanced.

Sooooo.....its a bit......naive, sure, let’s go with that word, for me to expect that the posts I’m trying to be more thoughtful about these days, actually outpace the shitposts or un-nuanced jokes. And if I actually want the former to be more representative of my views than the latter, well, it doesn’t work to act like both kinds of posts are innately predisposed to be met with similar receptions.

All of which to say this is just kinda a personal blog maintenance post about how where my actual posting interests lie right now and why I’m trying to be more about the former than reactively posting stuff along the latter lines. And its A-Okay to ask me to clarify my position if the take I seem to be sticking with is decidedly lacking in the Nuance Department.

(Don’t get me wrong, I’m not taking a Vowing of No More Jokes or like, changing my sense of humor, lmfao, and I’m not saying that asking for clarification is always going to reveal a different layer or position. I’m one hundred percent interested in walking back that Dick and Talia stance to add more thoughtful dialogue to the conversation about them, but I’m equally clear that nah, that Jason post from the other day represented me accurately the first time around, even with tongue-in-cheek jokes included.

Its a case by case basis and thinking that yeah I definitely get it wrong some of the time doesn’t innately mean I’m gonna be like yeah no, mea culpa every time I get pushback. So....that’s not going to be A Thing. Just saying: This isn’t a promise that saying “I don’t like what you said” is gonna get me to disavow whatever I said that you don’t like, lol, it just means that if you’ve got a specific point of contention, I do want to take a second look at stuff I said to make sure I actually like what I said there, even in hindsight.)

Anyway, personal blog maintenance post was posted. Here endeth the post.

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dailycass-cain · 2 years ago

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Thoughts on DCeased: War of the Undead Gods #4

DCeased: War of the Undead Gods #4 has the Cass back at last (she last showed up in #1). So I get to talk about this series again.

I have to say other than ONE subplot not getting teased in this series so far (where is my Talia/Steph finale dagnabit from DCeased: Hope at World’s End), I am enjoying the utter unpredictability this finale has gotten. You have this large intergalactic army taking out worlds and spreading the Anti-Life virus.

The heroes of Earths 1 & 2 attend a galaxy meeting on what to do with the anti-life army destroying life around the universe. The Guardians of Oa solution is well... even in another universe the blue guys are such goddamn dicks (what happened to you Ganthet? You used to be the cool chill Guardian).

I mean you could explain it away given Ares is to blame for “heightening” everyone’s aggression (seriously is he also the god of trolling? besides wars).

Whatever is the case, I like that instantly a certain group of heroes (including a certain someone) raise their voice to this stupid plan of the Guardian’s.

I just love the pose here given to Cass along with just the lightning being held. If anything, I'd kill for a story of Mary showing Cass how to better use these powers. The reverse of DC Unkillables of Cass/Shiva teaching her to fight.

Speaking of DC of Hope At World’s End I feel like this universe needs one more series AKIN to it but this time focusing on the bits between the Unkillables, Dead Planet, and events prior to this one. There's still so much to mine in material in between these stories.

Like how's Punished Jimmy Olsen now seeing Superman as is? Is he still moody? Is he wearing all-black and inner monologuing still? Rose raising her/Jason’s kid? Damian/Cass being the only Bats left (unless Steph is alive via Laz Pit). Harley/Ivy? Ace being the only speedster in the universe (though most save two are in the Speed Force). Speaking of the speedsters in the Speed Force: how are they? What about villains? I’d love to see the Cyborg Superman investigating the Anti-Life virus given his death wish agenda. What of a former Anti-Life possessed being? What’s it like to be in their heads? So many characters to see that still to be seen.

If there's any negative I can have for this particular series is just the sudden quickening in pace it takes with this issue. I feel like next issue bad stuff is gonna go down next issue and LOTS of faces we love are not gonna walk away.

Is this a red flag that Cass will die? Possibly. The whole "god" portion of Darkseid and the fact that Mary/Cass have the powers of the gods. Just makes me think they'll lose it and get ravaged or sacrifice play together.

But the red flag this issue for me is writer Tom Taylor spending time with Alfred and I just get the sense that the death flags are coming for Damian first. Just something about the way the scene is staged between him and Alfred.

It has that mood to me SOMEONE amongst these two isn't seeing the other again alive after this. Doesn’t help either that Alfred has a nightmare of Bruce, Tim, and Dick asking him, “WHY?! WHY DID YOU MURDER US?!” Revisiting that and the dialogue from this and later between Alfred/Damian just suggests to me something BAAAAD is gonna happen to Damian. That and one of the Earths is boned for sure.

But we’re another month away from #5. Until then, I will enjoy the awesome moments we got this issue with Cass. Like Cazzam doing this to Kilowog:

I mean just everything of Cazzam in general with this series leaves me all giddy and happy as heck. Because of that, I ain’t gonna spoil the remaining half of this book. I'm not going to spoil the later twists this issue takes. But gosh darn am I 😮at what occurs at the end. This is up there with Anti-Life Plastic Man of terrified. Even if said character hasn't DONE ANYTHING YET.

Overall, I still think DCeased is Tom Taylor's lengthy DC work. I enjoy his single issues of Injustice more, but from the beginning to currently? I'm still loving this series. I can't wait to see where this goes. Good or bad ending for all. I'm here for this ride.

But the added bonus of Cass being around thru this series helped even more of that enjoyment.

Now if you excuse the other half of me as I await #5...

#cassandra cain #dc comics #psuedofolio #did the glorious spoiler warning

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bluegarners · 4 years ago

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hiya @viceturtle! I finally got it done! Here is your Bad Things Happen Bingo request with Dick and Jason; you can also read it on ao3

What Have I Done?

It’s a lot. He’s not going to lie.

Dick was dead for eight months. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. It was a fact that they were all forced to deal with, all forced to live with. Dick was dead and there was nothing any of them could do about it. And for a time, Jason had held onto the small belief, he’s not going to call it hope, that Dick had somehow managed to pull through. That even despite the beatings, the torture, everything before and after it, Dick had managed to pull through and come out of it all alive.

But he hadn’t. That was the thing, at its core. Dick died.

Jason knows what it is to be dead. To be beaten and left to die. To struggle and still search for a way out of the shit hole you’re suddenly in and cling to that light, that stupid, stupid promise in the back of your head that screams, Help is coming, just hold on a little longer, that forces you to keep struggling, keep surviving, keep hoping for a way out despite the circumstances. Jason knows and it absolutely sucked.

He died and then clawed his way out of his own coffin. One of his fingers is permanently misshapen, wood chips and metal piercing through his stiff and cold skin. He’s got scars all over his body to prove that he died, to prove that he was beaten with a crowbar, messed around with like he was just some dummy, some thing that could take a beating and then some. Up and down and across and lined; the scars are all over him and he died.

And Dick died too.

In those eight months, Jason felt more connected to his deceased older brother than he ever had before. A deep and twisted connection over a shared death, a similar fate so convoluted it makes Jason sick to think about sometimes. His murderer is still out there. Jason has to live with that fact and even though it’s not fine and things would be so much easier without that psychopath, Jason gets it. Sometimes. Gets the moral code, the compass, that shrouds Batman and his little followers.

And he’s trying. He is. He made an effort to try and do the right thing when Dick died because suddenly, the role of older brother had fallen onto him and even though he doesn’t have a good relationship with Tim or the recently resurrected Damian, or anyone for that matter, there was still that recognition that it was all on him now. He was the eldest. He was the one to look towards. Not look up to, no, he will never claim the title of a role model, but now he’s the oldest, the most experienced, the next in line when one just can’t go to Bruce about shit going on.

The point being is that he did try, put in more effort than he probably should have, to stepping up to the plate and taking a swing at being better. At being the eldest of the entire brood and not fucking it up horribly. He switches to rubber bullets and smoke pellets. He keeps his excessive violence reserved for only the worst scum and even then still attempts to steer clear from Batman’s territories. He takes care of the Narrows, rekindles a sort of friendship with Tim, doesn’t fight the literal child that lurks in the Cave, and avoids confrontations with Bruce altogether.

It works and it’s good. He steps up, frankly owns being the eldest, and he’s fine. He’s fine with it. He’s still got his reputation intact, Red Robin isn’t terrified of his presence any longer, and Robin doesn’t pull a sword every time they spot one another. So what if he slips up occasionally and gets carried away? They’re just rubber bullets, weapons all the same, and they’re no different from getting hit with Batman’s fist (which Jason knows, from experience, hurts like hell) or getting swung at with a large knife.

He had a thing going on, is what Jason’s trying to get at, and then Dick showed up.

Dick. Richard Grayson. Who died eight months ago after he was tortured by the Syndicate and had his heart stopped by Lex Luthor. Who they had a funeral for. Who they mourned for. Who Jason had attempted to fill the gaping hole he had left behind.

Who Jason thought had died.

Betrayal is a word Jason feels like he could apply to a majority of his life. Betrayal from his parents, his poor, poor mother who just couldn’t muster up enough fucks. Bruce, Batman, for getting him into the vigilante life, for letting him wear that damn costume and get himself blown up for all his efforts. Talia, for restoring his mind after he was supposed to be dead. Bruce, Batman, again, for letting his murderer walk around like it was another Sunday, any other day, just a nice, normal day for a stroll like he didn’t just kill Bruce’s own son-

Yeah, Jason feels like he has liberal use of betrayal. It’s just an old song he hums sometimes and lets others join in occasionally.

But there was an unspoken code, a silent right-of-passage, when it came to being Robin. A mutual understanding of sorts. You don’t back-stab another Robin. Ever. You don’t lie, cheat out, betray a fellow Robin. There were too many shared experiences when it came to being Batman’s, Bruce’s, Robin and that ultimately revolved all back to trust and knowing that things were still the same despite all these years. Being Robin was both the best thing to ever happen to someone and also the ultimate death sentence. You don’t just get to be Robin either. You’ve got to earn it, to prove yourself, to show that you can take it all on, to keep up with Batman and the ever changing and violent Gotham.

So, when Dick shows up with an apology on his lips and the expectation of being welcomed home after all this time, Jason punches him square in the jaw. It’s surreal, a part of him thinking his fist will just phase right through the man’s face, but his knuckles connect and if the sound of his fist against Dick’s jaw isn’t the most satisfying and cruel thing he’s ever heard, Jason doesn’t know what is.

It’s agony, nearly, to see the red blossom on his older brother’s cheek because, holy hell, that means it’s all real. That Dick is really alive and not still buried in that weed covered yard with decaying roses scattered on top of it. Dick is alive and Jason is furious because he’s supposed to be dead and Jason already tried so hard to fill the other man’s impossibly huge shoes and he was doing a damn good job at it. He likes to think so, at least.

But who cares, right? Who gives a shit when Dick is back now and it was all for nothing? Everyone can just go back to their normal routines now that the star player is back and they don’t need a fill-in like Jason to stick around. All that effort, all that time, all that trying all summing up into one big, Surprise, I’m not dead, from the man of the hour himself.

Jason avoids Dick after that. The man said he wasn’t staying long, just “checking in” with everyone like he was just on some business call for a few months and not dead.

And that’s the root of it, Jason thinks. That’s what really gnaws at him because Dick is treating the whole situation exactly like he was on some extended vacation and just forgot to tell anyone where he was going. Not like his absence literally turned their entire world upside down. Not like the loss, the emptiness, that literally echoed everywhere Jason went was consuming and terrifying. In those eight months, Jason had to toe the line between being the eldest and maintaining his identity as Red Hood, and that’s where Jason truly felt close to Dick. Felt like he finally got what Dick and Bruce’s arguments were about so many years ago, this constant war of wanting to be better, wanting to have freedom, wanting to stay yourself when there was a constant war of others trying to get you to fill a role that you don’t want.

Finally, Jason felt like he had some other important connection to his elusive older brother that had nothing to do with the man that housed them, only for it all to be thrown across the room and into the trash.

To keep it simple, bare-bones, really dumbed down, Dick lied. About being dead, of all things. Jason can get behind needing to lay low after all that, being stripped of your identity on live television wasn’t exactly great for their kind of lifestyle, but to just leave? To go out on some mission and leave the rest of them out to dry like that? No warning, no hints, no notes, nothing? God, at least Jason made an appearance. Granted, not the best sort of re-introduction, but at least he wasn’t trying to hide.

To say the least, Jason is hurting. The anger faded along with any sort of need to prove to Dick that he had stepped up when he left. Now, he just feels… shitty. In a way, this is what he had been half-way expecting. No one stays dead in this business. There is always someone with a back-up or ex-machina to save the day and bring back a fallen hero, villain, whatever. But there had just been something so final, so human in Dick’s death. In that moment, seeing the mask ripped off, seeing his brother’s face on T.V out of context, away from the normal flashiness that was being related to a billionaire, it had scared Jason because that was his brother, Dick Grayson, world’s most annoying man in the universe, on T.V; beaten, bloodied, bruised, and humiliated for everyone to see.

He’s always been jealous of how clean and clear Dick’s eyes looked. Just a simple and rare shade of blue, obnoxiously bright and searching. Jason’s mother used to say he had his father’s eyes, a muddy mix of blue and green. He’s never liked his eyes, but there was always something so attention grabbing with Dick’s. Seeing them on T.V, wide and blood-shot and bruised to hell; the blue was out of place and humanizing in a way that Jason just couldn't describe because it was simply Dick Grayson there. Not Nightwing. Not a hero. It was just Dick Grayson, world’s worst older brother ever, looking lost, defiant, and defeated all at once.

And that hurt.

The man is like some nasty disease that won’t leave him alone though. Their first meeting was two days ago and Jason is trying his best to ignore the knife in his chest, not literally, when Dick shows up. Just outside the Narrows on the roof of a bodega, Dick appears from where ever the fuck he’s been and walks over to Jason. It’s a cue, Jason knows, when thunder rumbles in the distance and if he were a bit more into literature, feeling a bit more melancholy for his freshman year of high school, Jason would say that a storm is coming for the both of them, not just Gotham.

Dick walks with his hands in his pockets, stuffed inside an old brown jacket that looks well-used and well-loved. Jason’s never seen the jacket before. Must’ve gotten it on his extended vacation. A part of Jason knows that Bruce was in on it too, that Bruce probably deserves just as much anger he’s dishing out towards Dick, maybe even more, but Jason’s tired of trying to play nice and get along. Dick is the one in front of him now, right here on a Wednesday night with the glowing, neon advertisement for Coke singing behind their heads and a run down, twenty year old convenience shop beneath their feet.

Dick is here and now when he should be dead.

Just like Jason should be.

“What do you want?” he asks, the metallic tin of his voice modulator diminishing some of the threat. It’s a known fact that Red Hood guards his territory with a viciousness rivaling a rabid dog. Outsiders aren’t welcome. Never welcome.

In contrast, Dick is mask-less. Civilian. Same clear blue eyes from eight months ago that were sealed shut the last time Jason saw them. A dark bruise stains Dick’s right cheekbone, the shape of knuckles and betrayal. It’s a good contrast.

“I came to say goodbye,” the other man answers, stopping just short of six feet in front of Jason, “and that I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. I really am,” he insists when Jason remains silent. “Things just… happened too fast. It killed me to be away from you all for so long. I wanted to tell you, I did-”

“Really?” Jason interrupts lowly. “It killed you, huh?”

Dick sighs, a hand coming up to brush through his hair. “That’s not what I meant. You know it’s not.”

“I don’t know, Dicky. Times are changing, you know. One minute, you’re the star pupil, and the next I’m your backup. And now,” Jason shrugs, letting his hand come up to rest on the holster he keeps on his hip, “I’m not so sure about that.”

Dick is eyeing Jason like he’s looking at something he doesn’t like. Something that’s leaving a bad taste in his mouth. But that’s just something he’s going to have to deal with, isn’t it? Suck it up buttercup, and all that.

A laugh erupts from Jason as he truly takes it all in. “You know,” he chuckles, nothing humorous causing his mirth, “you really had me there for awhile. I bought you flowers, went to your funeral, dealt with all that shit, and yet here you are. In the flesh.” He laughs again, fingers curving steadily around the grip of his gun. “I think I liked you better dead, Dick.”

The older man frowns, brow dipping into a neat crease. Not a single wrinkle on his perfect, tan, not dead face. “The situation was unavoidable,” he says, like he actually believes a word he utters. “Batman needed a guy on the inside. The, hm, circumstances leading up to that set it up so that I could be that guy. It wasn’t exactly my choice to stay dead, Jay.”

“Names,” Jason snarks, that same anger he felt two days ago rearing its ugly head again. “You know, you say you didn’t have a choice, but I think there’s a clear distinction between dead and alive, don’t you? It might just be me, who knows because fuck if I do, but I think a warning woud’ve sufficed. A fucking warning. ”

Something must click in Dick’s head as his frown deepens. His hands are out of his jacket pockets now. They’re both tense.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says. “Maybe another month. Two at most. When I get back, I’ll try and…” Dick trails off there, as if searching for the right words, but Jason doesn’t have the patience for him to find the right way to say the same bullshit he’s already heard before.

He’s so tired. So, so tired.

“We were fine without you,” he snarls, relishing in the way Dick’s eyes widen at the claim. “The world doesn’t stop turning just because you decide to go off on a little adventure. Newsflash, asshole: None of us need you. You can’t come back here and expect everything to fall back to the way things were just because you decide it’s time to show your face again.”

“I was doing what I thought was right,” Dick snaps back. “Look, I’m sorry you had to step up and be a decent person for once-”

“And there it is,” Jason growls, unholstering his gun. “You think you’re so much better than me. You’re just so goddamn smug you can’t even see your own mistakes. What, is my being here just too inconvenient for you? Can’t make all the little hero-worshipers fall back into line like they used to?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. I did what I thought was best for everyone and I paid the price for it.”

Jason lunges, cutting the feet between them into inches. “What was best?” he yells, swinging with one fist and aiming with the other. “Who the hell are you to decide that?”

Dick retaliates, pushing away Jason with a kick that connects to his armored chest. It’s barely a glancing blow though and he’s charging forwards again, squeezing the trigger as a shot rings off into the air, missing Dick’s foot by a few centimetres. Another crack of thunder resounds in the distance and a bolt of lightning cracks open the dark sky. Dick rolls away from Jason’s tackle, on the balls of his feet and ready to jump away again.

“I didn’t come here to fight you,” Dick tries, widening his stance. “I just came to, god, I don’t know, Jay. I didn’t ask for this!”

“Cut the bull,” Jason says, raising his gun again. He’s got it trained on Dick’s mid-section and even though a part of him knows he’s not going to take the shot, another part of him has his finger itching towards the trigger. “None of us asked for any of the fuckery that comes our way, but we deal with it, right? I’m dead, you’re dead, the brat’s dead, we’re all dead!”

There’s another crack of thunder, one that brings the rain with it. It pours, instantly drenching the pair, and a sheet of gray divides them. There’s surely something poetic about it, the divide that surrounds them both, but Jason’s not one to dwell long.

“Well, I’m not dead anymore!” Dick screams through the rain. “I am alive! I’ve been dead for eight months and I don’t want to fucking be anymore! I want to come home, Jay. I am alive. Goddamnit, I am alive!”

“So why didn’t you tell us that? Tell any of us that? All of this, that’s on you , Dick. You want to know why there wasn’t a big fucking parade for you? Why no one was fighting over the chance to be the first one to get to shake your hand? It’s because we don’t trust you anymore. No one fucking wants you near them because that’s how badly you fucked up.”

He must strike a nerve because Jason sees something crumple on Dick’s face.

“I didn’t- I didn’t want to leave you guys, Jay. God, you’ve got to believe me on that. I had no choice. It was either I leave and do this for Batman or-”

That same anger rises up again. Anger from different directions, different thoughts, but ultimately because it’s about Batman. Always, always about Batman. What he wants. What he needs you to do. Because if you don’t do it, and someone dies, it’s your fault. And Dick has always been the suck-up, the one to come when called, because even after all their spats and all these years of silence between them, Dick was still a Robin first and goddamnit if Jason doesn’t understand that. He hates that he understands that need to please Batman, to do what he asks in the hope of just some tiny ounce of praise or acknowledgment, but Dick is a grown adult. He’s not Robin anymore.

None of them are.

Dick takes a step forward and Jason squeezes the trigger, feeling the recoil in his wrist as Dick freezes, the bullet breezing right past his armpit. His eyes are wide, finally taking the weapon in as it is, and there must be some realization going off inside Dick’s head because now he’s the one charging in, stance low and shifty, and Jason’s on the defense now. His finger is still on the trigger, just barely, and he’s raising it to aim again when a flying round-house knocks the gun from his hand and fist drives under his chin. It disorients him a bit because, damn, he didn’t actually expect Dick to fight back, Jason was trying to get him to go away, but now they’re both serious. They’re both dangerous.

It’s a no-weapons brawl, just fists and dirty kicks and the rain is still pounding away against the bodega. The rain has plastered Dick’s hair to his skull and Jason is grateful for his helmet because it’s clear the water is making it difficult for the older man to see. He takes advantage of this, striking down with his elbow on Dick’s trapezius and quickly hooking his left foot around his ankle. It works for a split second, Dick thrown off and unbalanced, before Dick is tumbling down and using his own momentum to pull Jason down with him.

They’re on their backs now, rough and cold cement bleeding through their jackets, and the neon Coke sign flickers in and out as thunder continues to roll and shake the world.

“You should’ve stayed dead,” Jason snarls, taking a jab at his older brother’s face. “You should’ve never come back.”

Dick frees one of his hands from underneath the massive bulk of Jason’s suit, palm striking the sides of his helmet. “Take off the godamn hood and say that to my face,” Dick pants, shoving one of his knees into Jason’s side. “Look me in the eye and tell me you want me dead, Jay. Tell me you want me dead. ”

Another bolt of lightning splits the dark and its image refracts against the many puddles, and for a moment, the light sears into Jason’s eyes. He flinches against the burn and it’s enough hesitation for Dick to take the unguarded moment and flip Jason, crouching with one knee on his chest and the other digging into Jason’s forearm. They’re both breathing heavily, exhausted both physically and mentally, and he doesn’t bother to stop his brother as Dick reaches down and shoves the helmet off of his face.

Their eyes meet and Jason squints up at clear blue. Yeah, he hates that color. Hates it so much it feels like something ugly in his stomach, coiling and clenching. They’re both frowning but Dick just looks resigned. Jason hates that too. Now that he has the chance, he can see new scars on his brother’s face. New, finer lines and white and pink discoloration.

Funny how eight months can make someone look so much older.

“I wish you had stayed dead,” Jason finally says, hating himself all the more for it. “I wish you had never come back.”

Dick stumbles off of him and there’s a thin trail of red leaking from one of his eyebrows that keeps getting washed away. Jason doesn’t even remember hitting him there, but he must’ve been excessive. Must’ve over-done it. Just another thing he’s managed to fuck up. Check it off the list.

He sits up, feeling the ache of a sore back and numerous bruises, and watches as his brother leans heavily against the poles of the advertisement. The rain only seems to come down harder, bouncing off the yellow stained bodega roof. He gets to his feet slowly, careful to keep an eye on the slouching man, and treads over to pick up his helmet. His gun is closer to the bright neon sign and when he gets near enough, Dick looks up, something horribly heavy and sad, settling into his face.

“Okay,” is all he says, nodding once. “Okay, Jay.”

Dick reaches into his jacket pocket once more, fiddling with something, but Jason’s too preoccupied putting his helmet back on to really pay attention to it. They’re done fighting. Done with whatever all of that was. His hair is soaked, his jacket is going to have a layer of mildew on it in the morning, and Jason is tired. Beat. He can’t find the will-power to truly be bothered with anything else.

This is his territory so he’s not technically fleeing, but that’s what it looks like. Tail between his legs, off to lick his wounds, Jason’s sure that’s what Dick is thinking (he knows that’s not true, he knows this, and he’s got a little secret screaming, pounding away in the back of his skull, but Jason’s too burned out to deal with it, to address it). He walks to the edge of the roof with his back turned on his older brother, his alive and breathing, long lost brother, and jumps off, sliding down the fire escape and landing on the grimy streets below. His boots squelch in the rain, and there’s water logged into his socks, but Jason ignores it in favor of staring ahead. Refusing to look back.

Here’s the thing about being a Robin that everyone who’s been one before knows.

You rely on each other. There’s no codependency, not really, but there is a certain degree of reliance on past and current Robins. Robin is the inspiration. Not Batman. Batman doesn’t inspire little kids to go out in the night and get punched in the face and witness cruelty so awful you have nightmares for years after. Batman doesn’t inspire light and forgiveness and mercy; that’s all Robin’s doing. The bright colors, the chatter, the youth. That’s all on Robin, the little child weapons they are, and the shared experience of being that for Batman is a bond that runs so much deeper than blood. Thick and interwoven and relied upon so much more heavily than a simple crest or uniform.

And here’s that screaming secret that vibrates inside Jason’s skull: he’s happy Dick’s back. That Dick’s alive. At the end of the day, Dick was the first Robin, the first light, and having him snuffed out was a world that got three shades darker, bleaker. It was Dick’s Robin that truly gave it the twinge of hope all the Robins after carry with them; he was the model, the mold, they shaped themselves after. Him being dead changed that perspective for the worse because the first Robin made it. That’s what was so important, what tips the scales for the confidence of all Robins after. Dick made it. Survived being Robin, survived past Robin, and became his own hero.

Dick outlived being Robin and that was the ultimate goal. To survive.

So him dying was the last straw but now that he’s back, alive, everything was going to be okay again. Yeah, they’re all still messed up from it, there’s going to be a lot of trust built back up again, but they’re Robins for Christ's sake. Thicker than blood, stronger than a crest, relied on more than Batman. And maybe Jason’s being sentimental, still trying to be more eloquent than his sophomore English education allowed him to be, but God, he’s trying. He’s trying so hard despite the ache that wears down his bones and the fire that consumes his brain.

That’s why he gives in. Turns around. Looks back. Does what he thought he was too stubborn to do, but things change and-

The neon sign is brighter. No, that’s not right. There’s another source of that eerie, glowing light and Jason’s eyes widen as he sees a person step through it. Another figure, broad, muscular, unfamiliar, and they’re heading straight for Dick. His brother. Who is still leaning against the advertisement poles. Who’s not doing a damn thing to avoid the stranger that’s fast approaching.

Soreness and fatigue forgotten, Jason starts sprinting, boots pounding against the pavement as he cranes his neck upwards to watch the stranger continue to advance.

“Dick!” he yells in warning, drowned out with the rain. “Dick, move!”

He slams into the fire escape, hands scraping up the ladder as he hauls himself three steps at a time, chest heaving and heart beating wildly. He slips, losing his footing, and Jason grunts as he feels the pull on his shoulder and his knees bang into the sides of the bodega. He pushes on though, gripping the metal tightly and finally reaching the top.

He’s pulling himself over, gasping and searching, and he sees the man tugging Dick closer to the strange light, what Jason thinks must be some sort of portal, and before he’s even gotten a leg over the edge, his right hand is scrambling for purchase on his gun. He takes aim and fires without a second thought and curses aloud when it jams.

“Dick!” he yells again, throwing the useless weapon away and falling over onto the roof. “Stop! Stop! What’re you doing?”

His brother just trudges on though, bicep gripped by the stranger that continues to drag him closer and closer to the pulsating light, ghoulishly pink and saturating the air with an ominous buzz. Another flash of lightning illuminates the sky and Jason trips over himself in his haste, crashing into the slick cement. He whips his head up, too far away, too late, as the stranger disappears fully into the portal, Dick just a few inches away.

“Wait!” Jason cries, still attempting to rise off of his knees. Damn the rain. Damn the weight of his grief. Damn it all, get up. Get up. “Dick, stop! Stop!”

The rain is loud though and there’s a divide between the two of them, mixes of gray, pink, and red light. His brother half turns, watching as the younger stumbles towards him, and Jason can’t hear anything, can hardly process what’s even happening now, but Dick’s lips move in what Jason thinks is, Goodbye, and Jason screams, lunging as his brother fades into the light.

He falls, smashing into the cement once again as he fails to reach for his brother’s hand, and lands where the portal had just been. He lays there on his chest, heaving and attempting to breathe through his helmet, but it’s too hard, too suffocating, and Jason rips it off and flings it as far away from him as he can. His hands clench into fists and he fights back the urge to cry as he slams his fists into the roof. Bam-Bam-Bam.

Something cracks in his knuckles and Jason stops at the pain, shifting back and hanging his head between his knees. There’s a vicious burn in his eyes, his ugly, muddy green eyes, and Jason swipes at them furiously.

“We just got you back,” he whispers through gritted teeth. “We just got you back, Dick, and you, you just-”

A clap of thunder rattles the thin poles of the Coke advertisement as its lights finally flicker out. The night is dark without its glow and Jason is left in obscurity.

“What have I done?"

#bad things happen bingo #what have i done?#Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Spyral #Agent 37 #Red Hood #viceturtle #fanfic #my fic

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years ago

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Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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