#a whole flock of protective Waynes

[clockwayswrites]

Birb in the arms. Part 24

Masterpost, CW: mention of blood, dissociation, panic attack

“I liked this sweater,” Danny bemoaned softly as he watched Alfred’s startlingly sharp scissors slice through the knit.

Alfred hummed sympathetically, but didn’t stop in his butchery of Danny’s clothing. “A lost cause from the blood if not the wings.”

“Right.” Danny tightened his hands around the mug of tea he had been presented with shortly after he’d been sat down at the kitchen island. He should drink it, he knew, but the adrenalin crash was hitting him hard right then and the warmth of the mug was comforting.

Danny held back a flinch as Alfred started on the dress shirt.

If the wings… stayed, Danny would have to figure out clothing to accommodate them. That would be a pain. He didn’t want a whole new wardrobe.

“Arms out now,” Alfred ordered.

Danny listened, mostly because it was easiest to, and the remains of his dissected clothing was pulled off and taken away. Danny hunched forward and returned his hands to the mug. Alfred started to methodically, but gently, to clean a away the blood.

“Fortunately, the skin seems remarkably well healed around the wings. Do you normally heal swiftly from their emergence?”

Normally.

As if he normally had wings.

As if this was just a thing that happened to him.

But it was, wasn’t it? Or it was now. He just had wings. That was a thing.

This is what he was now.

More dead than alive.

Always dead.

There was a warm hand on his cheek.

He was much more warm now. The blanket wrapped around him might explain that. Or the hot water bottle that he was practically curled around. Or the person he was leaning against.

Whoever he was leaning on was talking.

The steady, calm flow of words rumbled under Danny’s other cheek.

He could fall asleep like this. He shouldn’t though, part of him thought. He should… shouldn’t he be doing something? He tried to pay attention to who was talking. There were more people in the room, Danny realized, but who he was resting against was doing most of the talking in a steady, rhythmic sort of way.

Danny knew he should be worried about where he was and what just happened, but he wasn’t.

He just snuggled closer to the warmth.

The voice paused, chuckled, and then asked something as the thumb swept soothingly across Danny’s cheekbone.

Danny made a little noise of question.

“Maybe not so with us, then,” the voice said.

Oh, it was Bruce.

The wings.

The attack.

The boys!

Danny jolted up. He didn’t get far with the arm wrapped around him, tucked carefully under his wings that struggled against the blanket.

“They’re safe. Damian and Tim are right here with us. You kept them safe.”

“Please do not injure yourself,” Damian said, voice a little soft, almost hesitant.

It was enough to still Danny.

“We’re okay. You just, um, had a bit of an episode in the kitchen,” Tim explained.

“You dissociated,” Bruce clarified. He had a book in the hand that was around Danny and he closed it quietly to set aside. He must have been reading to them. Bruce cleared his throat almost hesitantly. “We thought it best not to leave you on a cold kitchen floor.”

They were in a living room of some sort, Danny realized as he became more aware of everything around him. He was struggling to get his normally quick brain kicked into gear. Once again he was aware he should be worried about things, notably the fact he was apparently basically in Bruce Wayne’s lap, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be concerned right then.

“Much warmer,” Danny agreed, words a soft mumble. “Everyone okay?”

“Everyone but yourself,” Damian said with a little scowl that made Danny smile. That only made Damian scowl harder. “Clearly you are not equipped to take care of yourself. You will stay here for a few days.”

“Damian,” Bruce said as a mild reprimand that didn’t mean much with the way his arm tightened ever so slightly around Danny.

Danny just chuckled and let himself close his eyes again. “I’m okay, chickadee. Just tired.”

“You were tired before the attack,” Tim pointed out over Damian’s indignant noise.

“Mhum.”

“Is… I mean,” Tim said in a start and stop. “I just think that’s why Damian is concerned.”

Danny chuckled softly. Obviously only Damian was concerned.

“This is not humorous, Fenton!” Damian snapped.

“Damian,” Bruce admonished back.

“It’s okay, know he’s just worried,” Danny said around a jaw cracking yawn. With quite a struggle and Bruce’s bracing hands, Danny got himself sitting up and facing the boys.

They occupied opposite ends of a sofa. Damian tucked into the corner with a vicious scowl on his face. Tim, on the other side, kept glance between Damian, Bruce, and Danny all while trying to look like he wasn’t looking.

“I was tired even before the attack,” Danny said. He rubbed at his forehead, trying to pull his scattered thoughts together. Bruce’s hand was still bracing him up between the wings. “There’s… a few weeks a go, there was an incident I ended up in the middle of. I was exposed to some of Ivy’s pollen and apparently that and who knows what else triggered a… change. In me. And my… meta status? Powers. State—in the state of what I am.”

Tim looked at Danny a little more directly as he asked. “Did you know before it? That you were a meta?”

“Lab accident when I was fourteen,” Danny said with a wry smile. “I’ve known for a lot of years and while I won’t pretend that it was easy at the start, everything had settled into a balance. So, for things to change so drastically out of no where… I’ll be honest, I maybe have been struggling to cope with it some. It’s not that I find it funny or don’t recognize that it’s a concern, Damian, I just sometimes have to laugh about it.”

Damian assessed him with narrowed eyes. “The wings are new.”

“The wings are new,” Danny confirmed. “I’ve already spoken to my doctor about it, one that’s been looking after me since I was fourteen, and we have thoughts but not many answers. This…”

Danny sighed and looked down at his hands. He flexed his fingers. The small feathers that had covered his hands were gone. The talons back to nails (though maybe still a little sharper than they should be). The wings were still heavy on his back.

“There’s a lot of unknown in this,” Danny said, “and that can be scary. I didn’t think that I’d have any more changes to deal with, not at this age. When it was first triggered… the transformation was fully into a bird but giant. I’m really, really hoping that was an outlier. We think it was but…”

“None of this will change your place at work,” Bruce assured Danny. “W.E. is firm in its support of meta.”

“And we aren’t scared of you,” Tim added quickly. “We have meta friends. I mean, I can’t say I won’t have questions like how functional are the wings or stuff, but, um, that’s just how I am.”

Danny chuckled lightly. “I get that. And I once things are a little more… stable we can answer some of those. Right now I’m just trying to manage.”

“Then you will stay here,” Damian insisted.

“Damian…”

“It is easier to manage troubles if you are not alone,” Damian continued, “or so my family is always trying to convince me.”

“It would be easier if you didn’t have to worry about cooking or things, wouldn’t it?” Tim added with a set of puppy dog eyes that Danny was sure got Tim everything he wanted when he was little.

Danny smiled softly at the boys. “I don’t want be a burden or bother to you all. This isn’t your issue.”

“Tch,” Damian sniffed. “We were not your issue today, but you still protected us and in doing so caused this episode. Us providing you a space to heal is the least we could do.”

“Damian is right,” Bruce said, finally adding his thoughts to the argument. “We owe you so much more than that, and having you around would not be a burden or a bother. Take at least tomorrow off and plan to stay through Sunday. You can see how you feel then. And besides, the rest of the children come over through the weekend. They would pout if they missed you.”

“Grayson’s pout is rather unbecoming,” Damian agreed with such a somber air that Danny knew he was going to say yes eventually.

“Alright… thank you, I’ll say for a few days. I will need some things from my place though.

“Oh, make a list,” Tim said, pulling out his phone to type away on. “Jason can grab them on his way in. He’s really good at picking locks.”

“Tim,” Bruce sighed wearily, but with a deep fondness under the sound.

Danny just found himself laughing again. What a family this was.

[bruciemilf]

Bruharvey but Harvey desperately has to impress single parent Bruce Wayne's flock of protective kids.

OHH, I think both Harvey and Two Face acknowledge that, while Bruce loves all his children dearly and needs all of their blessings, they can be bribed one way or another;

Harvey's a whole mafioso that robs banks on the regular. He becomes the personification of " daddy's money."

Dick? All the gym equipment he can imagine.

Damian? Lifetime access to the Zoo + petting privileges.

Tim? His own coffee shop.

Cass doesn't ask for anything besides her dads happiness and safety, but Harvey buys her a ballet studio cause she's his princess

Duke? Again, doesn't ask for anything. " I'm frankly offended that you think my honor and love has a price, --"

" So you don't want your own Batmobile?"

"...Hold on. Let's talk."

But. That being said. There's one child whose word reigns supreme over everyone else's. The one lounged on Bruce's lap like an evil cat.

Jason.

He can't be bought; Or flattered. Or impressed. Or be reasoned with.

Let's face it, the guy who masterfully bended an entire criminal network on a rebellious whim has little reason to value your word over his.

Harvey tried everything. A library cropped straight out of beauty and the beast. A fully paid college tuition for creative writing and English literature. Sending Tim to Mexico.

Nothing.

"Well," Harvey looks at Alfred while downing his 4th glass of whiskey. Jason had just BIT HIM after he tried petting Bruce's hair, " If I made YOU like me, this should be nothing, right?"

Alfred looks at him as if he's a particularly stupid puppy.

"...You like me, right, Alfie?"

" You're breathing, aren't you?"

[ladytauria]

🙋 hi hello i would like to know more about brucatherine, and also wingfic please 👀

ofc!!

jaytim: jtw2024 wingfic

wingfic is a fic i've been meaning to write for... a *while*. when i saw "wing" as the day 1 prompt for jaytimweek i,,, was like. "might as well!"

i. haven't started it yet.

well that's not true, i DID write the first line for a separate ask game. but, um. other than that i haven't started it xD

it's very loosely based on this fic for the Lucifer Netflix show.

the very basic premise is: jaytim + wingfic + touch-starved. the slightly less basic premise is:

everybody has wings. wings are high maintenance, and so people tend to have their flocks assist in grooming them. this doubles as a social/bonding activity.

jason, however, does not have a flock. he gets by with showers and his own hands, and it's fine. it's fine. his feathers are a little messy and maybe not as well-oiled and protected from rain as they could be, but---whatever, he's getting by.

and then <3 he breaks a blood feather (/pin feather) <3 which is fine, yknow, normally. but it's in a spot he can't reach, and there's the potential for it to keep bleeding. so he needs someone to help remove it.

the only person in gotham that he trusts is tim. and while removing the feather, he also offers to help jason groom his wings. things get... emotional <3

brucatherine: "I just want your hands on me."

this one is based on a prompt from @deepwithintheabyss, who also offered me another ship, but like. i've read all the bruce/catherine fics in the tag, so... i might as well write one xD

i only have a little bit of writing for this one, BUT i came up with a whole meet-cute premise for them dfghj:

They met in a bookshop. Bruce, having newly taken in Dick (12), was looking for parenting books. Catherine was buying a birthday present for Jason (7). At the register, she fell just short of buying the books she'd picked out, and Bruce covered the cost. She insisted on paying him back, and since Bruce didn't want her money, she invited him over for dinner.

It goes well despite Jason's wariness, and they have a few more meet-ups. Bruce asks her for parenting advice. She didn't recognize him as Bruce Wayne at first, but eventually puts it together and feels foolish. He assures her.

They slowly fall in love, and finally, Bruce asks her on a date.

by the time the fic starts they've been dating quietly for a few months <3 here's the beginning:

Some days Catherine can’t quite believe this is real. It feels like something out of a fairy tale, or the romance novels she loves. A billionaire who falls in love with a woman on the verge of destitution, whisking her off her feet. He has been nothing but good, and kind, and gentle; everything Cathy has always wanted. Most importantly—he treats her son well. Jason, her sweet boy, has been so distrustful, rebutting many of Bruce’s attempts to bond. Bruce is patient. Understanding. He treats Jason with the same consideration and compassion that he gives to Dick… and to her. That’s why they’re here now.

[ wip ask game ]

[daemonoferror]

I completely forgot about my "theory" (it's more of an analysis tbh) and I'll probably write more about it when I'm home and able to play the game again!

But basically I looked up the meaning of a ram, and the first result said it was a strong leader and protector of it's flock. That seems to not only fit Enoch, but the whole Scarlet family.

Oue family is clearly made up of leaders. We're the ones who founded the town, we're in control of the town's economy, police station, and politics (or you could say we're the reason the political system is so weak in Scarlet Hollow. Tabitha says we have a dog mayor because everyone knows our family's already in charge), and we run the coal mine.

Protecting family is also a big value to a lot of Scarlets. Enoch was assumingly trying to protecting Eddie by keeping her away from Charlie, Pearlanne was overprotective of Tabitha dating anyone, and now Tabitha is protective of us from danger.

I wonder if it's a family heirloom. I know a lot people have talked about the Scarlets doing some kind of ritual, and making a deal with a demon, and I think the biggest assumption is that it was to keep the mine running, or for greed. But maybe the deal has more with protecting the family, and keeping our place as leaders?

Of course I have to point out that chapter 4's carving had a ram on it in the bottom left corner (yes i got it from the livestream, the entire team is reacting to my analysis now LMAO)

With how central Enoch has seemed with the past couple episodes, it's interesting that if the ram symbolizes him, he doesn't get his own carving. Instead the ram's tangled up with a bunch of other creatures. Maybe this is like the Gravity Falls cipher, and certain characters are connected to each one.

I'm not confident I can tell what each is- going from the top clockwise it looks like a woman (maybe representing medusa, the lion's tail in her face looks like a snake), a lion, a merman, a cow, the ram, the devil, and a goat.

The cow, ram, and merman are all I feel confident on though.

If a different person represents each creature, and Enoch is the ram, maybe Tabitha is the goat, since she can choose to take the deal in chapter 3, and that's carving is a goat, and she's keeping a goat at the house. Chapter 3's carving could also mean Eddie or Charles is the goat, but they or the prisoner could also be the merman, since all of them mention the outer banks.

I feel like Sybil and whatever possess Wayne/created Reese should be involved too, but I'm not sure how they place. I'm also not sure if certain Scarlets get their own place in the carving or if all the Scarlets are represented by the ram. Maybe I'm just way off :D

But I think the carving is representing who all is responsible for whatever is happening to Scarlet Hollow.

[galaxymagitech]

Collapse

Summary: In the early days, he is alone. He has not been himself since he was nine years old, has always defined himself by the past and those around him. And he is alone, so in the early days, he is no one.

Warnings: Borderline suicidal thoughts (as in, idk if it counts or not, but...here's a warning)

Prompt Used: Collapse (Jan 3-4)

In the early days, he is alone. He has not been himself since he was nine years old, has always defined himself by the past and those around him. And he is alone, so in the early days, he is no one.

Daytime is an inconvenience. He sleeps through most of it, whenever possible, crawling to bed an hour or two after dawn and waking in the late afternoon. Somehow, he still finds time to fill out reams of paperwork, wading through legalese and statistics and reports. At meetings, he makes the same suggestions again and again. Eventually, they are implemented, but the progress is always slow, so painfully slow. Since he returned from abroad and made his proposals, the Wayne Foundation’s projects have always in “planning” or “development.” It’s been a year, and no one has been helped.

Evenings pass in a haze of faked inebriation, or occasionally true inebriation. He tells himself that it’s always the former, though. He tells himself that his mind is still sharp, that he’s still vigilant, but—well, everything seems to slip by. A smile pinching painfully at his face, a blur of well-dressed vultures, the buzz of high-society conversation, still smiling, lipstick against his cheek, laugher light and high like a flock of incessant birds, the taste of champagne on his tongue, smile, smile, smile.

Night is when he drenches himself in darkness and fights the demons of the city. It’s the sickening crunch of bone, his bone, his opponent’s bone, it doesn’t matter. It’s a signal in the sky, calling him to another battle in the unending war. It’s laughter, visceral and real, snaking its way under his skin and eating him inside-out. His knuckles bleed. When he improves the gauntlets to protect him, he finds he misses the feeling.

In the early days, this is his whole world: the Waiting, the Cover, the Mission.

They say that Batman hides in the shadows, that he sees everything and lies in wait, ready to leap into action. This is inaccurate. He is a man, and far from omniscient. And he cannot hide in the shadows.

In Gotham, you cannot see the stars, and the moon—the moon is often covered by smog. They say that Batman banished the moon, or the Owls stole it so they could have it all to themselves. Or it fled, ashamed, that night in Crime Alley when the Waynes fell and the Wayne Foundation fell with them. The smog is another thing he has tried to fix with the Foundation, and another project where he has been told he must wait. And so, the moon is hidden.

There is light in the buildings, but all too often, he walks too far for that light to reach. He moves in the darkness.

He had hoped to cast a shadow over the criminal element. But Batman cannot cast a shadow without a light.

So in the early days, he is simply a lonely man in the darkness, striking at enemies he cannot see until dawn breaks and he is forced to retreat.

One night, he stands over a madman, breathing far too heavily to catch his breath. There is a smile painted and scarred on the man’s face. This is another victim of the city, the hungry city which takes and takes and takes and never gives.

Visions of ballrooms flash through his mind. Ceaseless, meaningless chatter. A flute of champagne chilled beneath his fingers. He is sick of pretending.

There is a bullet in his calf, and a slash where the Joker’s knife cut through his Kevlar armor, and his head is ringing, ringing, ringing. He thinks he hears church bells in the distance, but he can’t tell how long they chime. They might just be in his head. This might all just be in his head.

His knees buckle and he hits the cobblestone street, jarring the gunshot wound. He grunts in pain, but doesn’t allow himself anything more.

If he stays here, he wonders, will he just melt into the city? Thomas and Martha Wayne are legends, their names plastered on buildings and charities, their names whispered at galas, their names on a list of the dead. It feels dirty. They ought to be silence, now that they’re gone, because the silence is ringing in his ears like the bell.

He doesn’t want his name to ring through the city. He doesn’t want it to be a tragedy in the papers. He doesn’t want to be a story or a legend. He wants to melt into the cobblestone along with his blood. He wants to disappear.

But he has never gotten what he truly wanted.

His injuries burn. Fire seems to radiate through his body.

Focus on the pain. Focus on how it hurts, how it spreads through his body in waves, how his muscles twitch with exertion. Don’t think about anything else. Stay awake. Stay out of shock.

Walk. One foot in front of the other. Boots on the cobblestone. Blood dripping to stain the streets. He will not die in Crime Alley, beside his parents’ corpses. He will not be a headline for people to performatively mourn. He will not be an argument over where to perform the funeral or who officiates, a mourning split in two, a mismatched burial out of sync.

So, he stumbles to the Batmobile, and then he drives. He takes off his gauntlets and stares at his knuckles, white as he grips the wheel, as if that will keep him alive, as if that will make him real. When he steps into the cave, he remembers that Alfred is in England. He remembers that he is alone.

Up the stairs. One step, then another. This is alright, he thinks. His blood flows onto the polished wooden floorboards, but it isn’t cobblestones. He has always struggled so hard to survive, but he thinks maybe he can die here, alone as he lived, as long as there are no ghosts. His funeral will not matter after he is dead. He will not have to read the papers. Time will pass. It always does.

No more. He can’t walk any more. He collapses onto the floor and doesn’t try to get up. Consciousness slips in and out. Death can’t feel too different from life, he thinks. Darkness, without light, and he hasn’t had light in so long.

Time passes. Darkness creeps in.

There aren’t any shadows.

***

He wakes up 58 hours later, clean bandages over stitched-up wounds, tucked underneath a warm duvet. It is a stormy day, as always, and too overcast to see the sun. His curtains are open anyway.

The tea on his nightstand is bitter; Alfred must be disappointed. He cannot bring himself to care.

He remembers, now. Alfred was returning early due to the weather conditions. It’s a stroke of luck, though he can’t quite decide if that luck is good or bad. It is 1 pm, according to his clock, which means that it is time for the Waiting. And after that, the Cover. And after that, the Mission. And after that, the Waiting. Again, and again, and again. Inescapable.

This war cannot be won by a man fighting in the dark with no shadow at all. But he is unable to provide a light.

He will not win, but he cannot help but fight as long as he lives.

He had expected to die. But staring at the grey sky and sipping over-seeped tea, he doesn’t think he doesn’t think there’s much of a difference, anyway. He is simply an unknown soldier, fighting a war alone, unaware that it has already been lost. He is a ghost in an alleyway, kneeling over his parents’ corpses, unable to move on. He is a revenant, dead already, dead for years, only a phantom of life left in him.

He is nothing.

Nothing, unless he can find a light.

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

Killer Croc was politely knocking on the doors of Wayne Manor.

Alfred opened the door.

“Wow Bruce.” Croc smiled awkwardly. “How long was I in the sewers? You’re a lot older than I remember…”

“I am Alfred, Master Bruce’s butler.”

“Master Bruce, huh? I didn’t know he was into that kind of thing.”

Alfred tried to hide his look of pure disgust. Bruce, coming down the stairs, noticed.

“Waylon!” Bruce gave his shiniest smile. “What brings you around these parts?”

Killer Croc gave a soft smile- as soft as one can get when they’re a massive crocodile man. He showed Bruce an absolutely massive reptilian egg. “Bruce… I want you to meet our child”

Bruce looked down at the egg. That was his new child. He gently took the egg from Waylon and cradled it in his arms. It was warm.

“Master Bruce, a word?” Alfred glared at Bruce a bit.

“Make yourself at home, Waylon. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Bruce was led away by Alfred.

At that moment, Dick Grayson backflipped down the stairs. “Do I have a new sibling?” He asked.

Cass, who Waylon didn’t notice sit down beside him on the couch, nodded.

Dick smiled. “Can I hold them?” He asked. “I’ll be gentle! I’m great with babies!”

Waylon frowned. He didn’t want to hand his egg over to some rambunctious child. “No.” He said.

Dick pouted for a moment, but quickly realized the Crocodile man wouldn’t budge. “Alright. What’s their name gonna be? Do you know if they’re a boy or girl yet? Do you have baby clothes picked out?”

Waylon sighed, resigning himself to being bombared with questions by Bruce Wayne’s most hyperactive son.

Meanwhile, Alfred pulled Bruce into a more private corner of the mansion. He couldn’t keep this conversation secret from the entire family, especially not Tim, but he could at the very least keep things private from Waylon.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred scolded, “Once is an accident. Twice I can forgive. But three times?”

Bruce looked like a child brought to the principals office: scared, helpless, pathetic. One would never suspect that he was Batman.

“When has this specific scenario happened before?” Bruce defended.

“Damian. Helena.”

Bruce deflated at the name of his lost daughter. After rouges threatened Selena Kyle and the baby Helena Wayne, Selena faked her own death and vanished with the baby. Bruce hadn’t seen either in months.

“Look, Master Bruce, all I’m asking for is you to use protection. What kind of example are you setting for your children? And while I appreciate how lively the manor has been, there has to be some limit to the number of children you take in.”

“Really, Alfred? These kids need me. I’d rather give up Batman than not be there for my kids. I’d give every penny I owned for them.”

“Perhaps you should consider it.” Alfred said. “Either way, what do you want to do with Waylon and his child.”

“Our child.” Bruce corrected. “They can live with us.”

“Waylon Jones is a criminal. You’ve fought him before.”

“What am I supposed to do, Alfred? Abandon my kids on the street?”

Alfred sighed, knowing Bruce would never be content to just provide child support. “I suppose there’s still room in the manor.”

Bruce gave Alfred one of the rare genuine smiles he reserved for his family. “Thanks, Alfred.”

They went back into the parlor. A flock of Bruce’s children had gathered around Waylon. Damian had his hands in his pockets- a sign that he was gripping his hidden knives. Jason was currently holding the egg. Cass was cuddled into Jason’s side. Dick was trying not to glare jealously at Jason, and failing. Steph had made a hat for the egg, and was currently making a variety of egg costumes. Tim was at the top of the stairs, pretending to read a book while he spied on the family.

“Right, well I should get back to the sewers.” Waylon said.

“Waylon,” Bruce said, “you don’t have to go back there. We’d be glad to have you here, in the mansion, as part of the family.”

“Gee, I’m touched.” Waylon said. “But no thanks.”

“You’re just going to go back to living in a sewer? When you have a whole mansion you could live in?” Jason asked.

“The sewer is my home. I like it there. I wouldn’t be happy anywhere else.”

“You can’t raise a child in the sewers.” Dick protested.

“I can, and will. The kid is going to grow up as a scary mutant crocodile monster- would you expect him to grow up anywhere else?”

“When a mansion is an option, yes!” Dick argued.

Waylon growled. “You won’t lock me up in this house. I won’t let you.”

Bruce remembered that Waylon was still an Arkham patient- mentally unstable, violent, dangerous.

Bruce was all for allowing people freedoms, but letting Waylon do whatever he wanted would mean Bruce’s kid would grow up in Gothams sewer system, probably eating human meat.

Bruce couldn’t let that happen.

“Waylon, you can’t live like that, especially not with a child.” He looked at the Crocodile Man, trying to speak to the man, and not the Crocodile. “Please, Waylon, let us help you.”

“I don’t need your help.” Waylon growled. “And neither does my son.” Waylon snatched his egg back from Jason, ripping off the hat. “Goodbye, Bruce.”

Killer Croc stormed over to the doors of Wayne manor. He ripped the heavy wooden doors off their hinges.

Robin stood in the entryway, staff at ready.

Bruce noticed that Tim was no longer in the room.

“Out of my way!” Killer Croc roared, swiping at Robin.

Robin dodged. “I’m not letting you endanger a child, even if it’s your own.”

Killer Croc let out a terrifying roar, far too mad for words. The egg was cradled in his arms, the only gentle thing about the monster.

“Hand over the Egg, Killer Croc.” Another pair of Robins flipped into the scene, this time from within the manor. Killer Croc was surrounded.

Waylon attempted to run for the gates of Wayne Manor. One of the Robins hit him in the gut, just barely cutting off his motion.

The other two used their grappling hooks to try to tie Killer Croc’s legs together.

Waylon roared in pain, the grappling wires cutting deep into his skin. He swiped at the Robin in front of him again, but this time, the strike was blocked with Robin’s staff.

Robin attempted to strike Killer Croc once more, but Killer Croc grabbed the staff and threw it across the lawn.

Killer Croc felt a weight settle on his shoulder, before a tingling numbness spread over his arm- the arm that was holding the egg.

Black Bat had pounced onto his shoulder, and hit him in the arm with a powerful paralytic.

Completely out of his control, Killer Croc’s arm relaxed, dropping the egg.

One of the Robins dove forwards, catching the egg before it hit the ground.

Killer Croc roared in fury. He crashed to the ground, the paralytic spreading to the rest of his body.

Batman came forward from within Wayne Manor, taking in the sight of Killer Croc beneath three robins and Black Bat.

Perhaps the paralytic was messing with his mind, because Waylon would swear that Batman almost looked… regretful.

Batman, but most of his rouge gallery are Bruce Wayne’s exes.

Batman, but he keeps finding more biological kids he had with villains.

Batman, where Playboy Billionaire Bruce Wayne truly is a playboy, and in fact has fathered a true quantity of children. He chose “seduce for information” a few too many times.

[lily-drake]

So I have this bio!siblings Dick and Marinette idea that I love yet will never write so I'm gonna toss it to you. Mari is two years old when she is taken the night the Grayson's died and is sold overseas, she is found/saved in Paris and is later adopted by Tom and Sabine. She often dreams of people 'flying', strangers cheering, and a boy who takes her to see the elephants. She's a natural at gymnastics and other acrobatics tricks (swinging around as Ladybug is like breathing sometimes)[1/2]

Somehow, someway they find each other again, torn between them meeting at Haly's Circus thats traveled in Paris (Marinette felt pulled to it and Dick (along with his family) is in Paris for business and hears it in town) they meet by the elephants or as heroes where they both pull off a move their parents did in the middle of battle. Dick knows she has to be his Mari and Marinette feels like she knows him from someplace (sorry if this was long I've tried shorting it like four times)[2/2]

Birds Of A Feather Flock Together

Marinette loved her mom and dad, she especially loved her older brother.  He was always with her and helped her whenever she tried to mimic him when he was doing his stretches.  He took her to the elephants, Zitka was her favorite.  She was so big and pretty, and Birdy would put her on his shoulders so she could touch her better.  Mama and Tata were so nice as well, they would pick her up and twirl her around.  She often watched them in the air and she was absolutely awed by them, and her brother when he too would join them in the sky.

Dick loved his baby sister.  She was a small ball of sunshine and always followed him wherever he went, but he didn’t mind.  She was so small and cute, and precious, he did everything in his power to make sure she was safe and protected.  She had the cutest smile and the prettiest laugh.  And when he did tricks for her she would clap her tiny hands and giggle, and if she was standing she would jump up and down and it always melted his heart.  He would often be the one to carry her around the circus and let her see the animals, and it was so adorable!  The animals also seemed to just adore her and would let her pet and snuggle with them, he had so many pictures of her and the loins.  He thought it was the most amazing thing when the lion began to lick and clean her.  He would read to her, color with her, and when she had a nightmare he cuddled her close until she fell asleep again.  She was his baby sister and he loved her so much!

Marinette didn’t understand what was happening, first her parents were soaring through the sky, then they were falling, but that wasn’t right.  She didn’t understand what had happened, but she remembered the noise, and as she stared she felt something cover her face and everything was black.

Tony looked down at the tiny girl and grinned.  This would serve those circus freaks right, they should have taken his offer when he asked them peacefully.  While the whole circus was in a frenzy he left with the tiny girl and met with one of the traffickers he knew would pay him handsomely, especially for the tiny girl in his arms, and handsomely paid he was.

Dick searched for his baby sister, but she was gone.  He kept telling the cops that she was missing, that he needed to find her, but they wouldn’t listen!  He needed his sister, he needed to make sure she was okay, he had to protect her because she was all he had left now.  Tears were pouring down his face as he sobbed, and without his knowledge Bruce Wayne was watching him, and that he would change his world completely in the near future.

All Marinette saw when she woke up was darkness, when she tried to move she found her hands couldn't move from behind her back, and she was in a hard confined space.  She didn’t understand, she felt like something was moving forward, but nothing was pushing her.  Her breath grew short because she couldn’t find her Birdy.  Where was Mama and Tata?!  What happened to them?  They fell, but they were alright, weren’t they?  The moving stopped and she listened, and some door opened and there were other scared whimpers, but from where?!  Where was she?!  Someone was picking up whatever she was in, and it was ruff because she kept hitting the side, and when she yelled out there was a lot of yelling and it scared her and the shaking got worse and she hit the sides so much harder and her wrists hurt!  She was quiet after that, she didn’t want to get hurt again.  They placed her box down and waited in the dark quietly, but the more she waited the more tears fell down her face because she wanted her family.  She wanted to play with Zitka and cuddle the lions, and twirl with Mama, get another piggyback ride from Tata, and color with Birdy.

She didn’t know how long she waited silently crying, but something was moving again and she could hear water, and she began to cry.  Sobs wracked her body, and somebody kicked her box and began to yell at her again, she bit her lips and tried her best to quiet her sobs because people only yelled like that when they were mad.  She didn’t want to get in trouble, she didn’t want someone to be mad at her.  She couldn’t stop crying, but she did quiet her sobs.

Marinette didn’t know how long it had been, but she was hungry and tired.  She was moved around a lot, and she didn’t know where she was anymore.  But soon she heard sirens and she didn’t really understand.  But there was a lot of noise, people were speaking a strange language and it sounded pretty.  Suddenly the box she was in opened from the top and light, even though it was so dim, burned her eyes.  She curled up and there was a voice above her yelling at someone else around them.  The person’s voice was so soft and gentle, but she could not understand them!  Why couldn’t she understand, where was she, where was her family?!  Someone was holding her, they were hugging her, and the hug was so warm and gentle.  Marinette’s eyes filled with tears and she sobbed as red and blue light surrounded the place she was in.  She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew she was safe.

Marinette didn’t know her last name, she didn’t know her parent’s real name, and no one in Paris claimed her, they never thought of checking outside of France.  So they put her in the foster system where she stayed with Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng, and that turned out to be more permanent than the couple originally thought it would be.  They loved the little girl, she seemed so shy, but once she was comfortable she was a ball of joy and light.  They couldn’t bear the thought of ever having to part with her.  So they didn’t, and as Marinette got older, she simply thought that they were her biological parents.  But at night, there were blurred figures in her dreams that flew like birds.  She marveled at their skill and she just felt so drawn to them.  There was a boy, she felt so connected to him, and she felt so much love for him, but he didn’t know why.  She dreamed of animals and bright lights and colors, people cheering and clapping.  There were others too, but they weren’t as important as the animals and the three flying figures that haunted her dreams the most.  So she grew up with these dreams, but she never told anyone about them because she felt like they were very important, and no one needed to know about them.

When she expressed her interest in gymnastics Tom and Sabine agreed to them and encouraged her as she learned.  But it all felt so natural, so familiar, but she couldn’t place why.  The bar was her favorite, she felt so free, like she was soaring with the people in her dreams, and it felt like they were so proud of her.  So when she became Ladybird and she soared through the air with a grace so natural she felt like she was a bird, she felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.  Ladybird, she didn’t know why that name felt so right, but it did, so she knew it was perfect for her.

Marinette is now 18, and she still hadn’t been able to end Hawkmoth’s reign which angered her as it blocked Collegés she would be able to attend.  Lila and the d*ed school probably also wrecked her record as well with all of the bullcrap that they’ve put on.  The school was corrupted, but she only had a few more months and she would be free of it.  As she was walking she looked over and felt a pull as she stared at a circus tent in the distance.  She had learned through lots of time and mistakes of the importance of following the pull.  There was something of great importance there, she just knew it, so she had to follow it.

The Batfamily had been wandering around Paris, France investigating the claims that had come from here many months ago.  It turns out that the mayor had been illegally hiding and blocking the news from reaching outside of France.  He was corrupt and definitely did not have the people’s best interests in mind as he destroyed buildings and couriers just because his spoiled daughter said so.  They would take care of him soon enough, but first they had to investigate the claims.  Dick nearly squealed when he saw Haley’s Circus was in town and dragged his family with him.  There was a small pang in his heart as he remembered his tiny little sister, and how she disappeared.  Batman had tried to help him, but they couldn’t find anything, and Dick had grieved for her, figuring that she too had been killed.  But they never found a body, so maybe she was out there, somewhere.  He hoped, prayed that she was okay and that she wasn’t being hurt or trafficked.

The circus was full of people and he went around to see if he could find any familiar faces.  There was a girl in dark blue jeans and a black and pink sweatshirt standing in front of the elephants with a look of awe and recognition.  He walked up next to her and happily looked up at the elephants as well.

“First time being this close to them?”

He asked, startling the girl.  She quickly turned to him, guard up and he gave her an awkward and apologetic smile.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, no, it’s fine.  Was lost in thought I’d all.”

She said relaxing slightly and turning back to the large animals.  Her voice was soft and gentle, and it reminded him of his mom’s weirdly enough.  Her eyes also seemed so familiar from the small glance he got.

“So…”

He said in a drawn out questioning tone.

“So what?”

She asked.

“Is this your first time being so close to them?”

He asked again.  Her brow scrunched up in confusion and what seemed to be pain.

“I….don’t know.  It should be, but I feel like I’ve seen them like this before.”

Dick hummed and smiled, Zitka was still one of the main elephants, and that made him so happy.  He missed her, she was such a beautiful animal.

“What’s your name?”

He asked casually.

“Marinette.”

She replied happily.  Dick’s breath was caught in his lungs and…it must be a coincidence.  It had to be.  But as he leaned forward and looked at her features he wasn’t so sure.  She had the same blue eyes as him, slightly lighter though, she had black hair, and her eyes were the same roundness of his Tata’s, but had the roundness of his their mama’s.  Tears welled in his eyes, and he had to know.  He needed to know, because if this was fake…he didn’t know what he’d do.

“Um, weird question,”

He began trying to keep his voice calm and even with all of will power,

“But ummm, are you adopted by any chance?”

Her parents had told her that she was adopted a few months ago, now that she was an adult and could do what she wanted.  They still loved her though, and they said they would support her no matter what she did.  They even told her what had happened to cause her to be adopted.  She had been trafficked, but she was too young to remember much and nobody came to claim her or posted missing posts for her.  She stuffed her hands in her hood’s pocket’s and looked at the ground,

“Yea, I was really young though so I don’t remember much about my old home.”

“Do you know how old?”

“My parents said I was about 2.”

Tears fell from Dick’s eyes when he heard that.  Because this was no coincidence, there was absolutely no way it could be.  This had to be his sister.  There was no doubt about it.

“I had a sister that was taken away from me when she was 2.  Her name was also Marinette.”

She picked up at that and turned to look at him suddenly, and he continued.

“I used to take her around this exact circus, she always loved the elephants and especially the lions, always snuggled with them.”

Pieces of her dreams came to her, and the blue eyes of the young boy that haunted her dreams showed up, the eyes that looked so similar to the man’s in front of her.

“In fact, she would be 18 today, I missed so much of her life and I can only pray that she’s safe.”

“Birdy?”

The words slipped through her mouth before her mind could process what she said.  The man’s eyes glimmered brightly and she was suddenly encased in a big warm embrace.  Tears fell down the siblings face as they embraced only to be ruined by Damian who marched up to the two and demanded,

“Grayson, stop flirting and show me the animals like you promised.”

Dick sighed, but refused to let go of his sister.  He cringed at the fact that he thought he was flirting with his sister.  Ew!

“Not right Damian, I’m reuniting with my family.”

Marinette’s heart warmed at that and distant memories of hugs just like this filled her soul and made it sing with joy.  She may not know her brother, but she knew that he cared for her, and that was all that really mattered at the moment as she stood next to the familiar elephants with her brother —who was far too tall, why didn’t she get a growthspert like him— and basked in his warm embrace.

Next

[lady-literature]

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette

Okay so,, I have this AU in my head, right? (not surprised) and I’m lacking any real direction for it (still not surprised) but it basically goes like this:

Marinette moves to Gotham.

She’s drawn there for whatever reason and the kwami are saying something about balance and being a Guardian and her sacred duty and something but Marinette isn’t really listening. She’s too busy trying to find a shop front where she can open a bakery without having to worry about getting mugged every time she steps outside.

Chloé comes with her, obviously, because they’re friends and Chloé has a business degree she puts to good use actually running Mari’s bakery and online boutique while Mari gets to bake and fuck around basically. Adrien, Luka and Kagami are not there, but that’s mostly because they travel too much to settle down and keeping an empty apartment in Gotham is just asking for trouble.

Kagami is a world-renowned fencer and Luka travels the world for his music company. Not touring, but soaking up cultures and ways of life so he can make soundtracks to movies and tv shows. Providing the background and life to a film is more his style than touring the world ala his father, Jagged Stone.

Adrien is having the time of his life being Kagami’s trophy husband. He has no pressing responsibilities he doesn’t take on for himself and he gets to fuck with the world’s elite with little to no consequences. He spends most of his days donating far too much money to charities and orphanages and then causing minor scandals that land him on the cover of magazines.

He has much the same kind of ‘dumbass with a heart of gold’ persona to the media as Bruce Wayne does, only without the playboy bits.

(There is a wall in the back of the bakery, where Chloé and Mari carefully cut out and frame every headline and ridiculous picture Adrien has. He is very much delighted when he learns about his ‘wall of fame’.)

Anyway, Marinette finds herself with a bakery not overly far from crime alley, much to Chloé’s chagrin.

(“What do you mean it ‘just felt right’?! I swear to kwami, DC, you’re going to get us robbed and sold into slavery.”)

They do not get sold into salvery.

In fact, despite their less than stellar choice of locale, they do pretty well for themselves. The only problems they have (according to Chloé) is the army of children Marinette accidentally attracted.

When asked, Marinette tells everyone that it was an accident. Meanwhile, Chloé, standing behind her, will shake her head and insist there was literally never any other option for them the moment that first kid came in looking to nab some cash and a few pastries.

Mari lives by the phrases, ‘kindness breeds more kindness’ and ‘do unto others’ and all that other nice person shit. Chloé just lets Mari pseudo-adopt her strays and makes sure that they don’t steal anything too important in the time it takes her to gain their loyalty.

The kwami stay staunchly out of any arguments involving the kids (and eventually the homeless all along their street and every working girl in a five-block radius). They do so with a special brand of amusement that never means good things for either of them. (After all, the last time the kwami looked that amused, they moved to Gotham.)

The first kid is named Serrure, as Marinette comes to learn over the next month after he returns again and again, getting closer and closer like a feral cat. Other kids come during that time, all of them too small and too thin and too guarded for Mari's tastes. She wants to wrap them all up and tuck them into bed but she can’t. She has to be patient, has to be gentle. These kids are just as likely to bite her hand as they are to accept help.

Serrure becomes an almost permanent fixture at the bakery after that first month. Mari’s not quite sure what she did to get through to him, but she did, she supposes. He can’t be much older than eleven and looks nine, but after getting settled, she and Chloé discover this little slip of a boy is just as mischievous as Trixx and has all the dramatics of their favorite black cat.

The kwami, when talking about him, only refer to Serrure as Loki, even after Marinette scolds them for it. She eventually gives up trying to correct them, it’s not like Serrure talks to them anyway(yet)((that she knows of)).

There’s an apartment above the bakery, which is where Chloé and Mari and all her strays that grow to trust her enough live. It’s three bedrooms, and at first, Mari just buys as many bunk beds as she can fit into the spare room and calls it a day. The kids feel safe in her home, which isn’t too surprising. Everyone thinks the bakery feels safe, feels like home or comfort or whatever else eases their minds.

And Marinette should hopes so. She certainly put enough time and effort and magic and energy into the wards around this place for that to happen. To protect her and the children and all her strays that no one else will help.

But, she eventually amasses too many kids to fit into the one room. Chloé throws a fit about having to share with Mari again—“I had enough of that in university thank you very much”—but she relinquishes easily enough.

Mari buys more bunk beds, and Serrure has taken to sneaking into her room to curl up in her bed anyway, and sometimes the smaller kids who have nightmares will come in and pile on as well.

(There are only a few that Chloé will allow to do the same with her. It is considered a high honor and breeds a playful kind of jealousy that Chloé finds amusing. Mari scolds her for pitting the kids against each other.)

That only lasts them another two months.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Chloé tells her one day before the kids wake up. Mari is at the stove, cooking and baking for a small army while Chloé balances the books. “There’s not enough room for us all, DC, and the only reason someone hasn’t come barrelling down on us about the abundance of children is by the grace of your absurd amount of luck.”

“Well I can’t just kick them out, Queenie! What do you want from me?”

“Either we need to buy more real estate in this city—which I’d rather not do—or you open up the grimoire and start building pocket dimensions. I know you can. I’ve read the chapter.”

Marinette looks at her. “That is such a bad idea.”

They do the idea.

And then Mari adds about a thousand more wards to the bakery, carved into the wood and counter and anything that’s a permanent fixture. Doorways become particularly ward heavy, what with them being the entrances and exits to the hidden realms and children’s’ rooms.

The apartment above the bakery isn’t quite infinite but it gets pretty damn close some days.

This also means, of course, that all the kids definitely know about magic now. Some of them—Serrure—have known about it for a while she knows, but it’s different now. The kwami followed her around most of the time and she doesn’t keep them trapped in the Miracle Box like Fu did, but now that the kids know, they don’t bother staying hidden.

The children, at least, love them and the kwami adore them with all the ferocity a god can give. After Chloé gets over her ‘ew children’ phase, she throws herself into their education (on top of actually running the businesses Mari keeps, mind you). She has the help of the kwami, who act as personal tutors to the children, and it’s not long before the kids start to joke about her being the Principal.

(Some tried to call her Warden, but that joke didn’t last long.)

Marinette has also been telling the kids bedtime stories ever since this started. Old stories of the Guardian and Chosens who fought back the darkness, she shares all she knows of the Orders history with these kids and it’s not until Wayzz points it out to her does she realize what she’s doing.

“Ladybugs are known for renewal. It is no surprise that you are rebuilding what was lost.”

Rebuilding the Order using children was certainly not her intention but, well. She supposes there’s no place safer for her kids than what is shaping up to be the new Miracle Temple. It’s the only haven where they can learn to harness their Gifts and powers, it’s the only place where they can be surrounded by others like them without being thrust into superhero-dom.

Context: about a month into this whole circus, Marinette had realized there was a significant—almost all of them really—amount of metas and Gifted in her little hoard of strays. Which is… odd. Especially with how few metas there are in Gotham.

She had asked the kwami about it, and they have that amused look again. “You are their guardian.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re their guardian. True, you are the Guardian of us, of the ancient ways, but you are a guardian at your soul too. You protect what is yours, and they are yours whether you realise it or not. The children can sense that, so they flock to you.”

And, huh. She supposes that makes sense but that’s also really kind of strange and weird and she doesn't want to think about that anymore actually.

So things are… fine, Marinette supposes. The bakery is doing well, and she has about two dozen-plus helpers running around underfoot to help tend to the customers or run to the store or help in the back with the baking. And every kid of hers has new clothes, their street things thrown out for being too ragged and replaced with something fresh made by Marinette’s own hands.

She embroiders little fairy wings into the clothes normally, because that’s what her cloaked wards look like most times and the kids like it and its technically the logo for the bakery and there’s a million reasons she does it.

It is, perhaps, her first mistake.

(“It was certainly not your first,” Chloé will snark one dayin the future.)

Because now Marinette has an army of magical children learning to wield their powers and not fear them and they’re all wearing what can be considered her insignia and uh oh, it looks a lot like Mari is some sort of up and coming mob boss who uses kids and prostitutes and the homeless as runners. People on the street start calling her the Pixie, start referring to Chloé—her second in all things just as Chat had been her equal—as Wasp, as Yellowjacket, as the Unseelie.

(They cannot seem to pick a name for her, but Pixie is all but engraved in stone. Mari is not sure who coined it, and she doesn't think she wants to know.)

The first time the whole situation is brought to her attention, she punches the idiot who dared even imply such a thing so hard she knocks him out.

Because look. The kids are hers right? And she watches out for the people near her, makes sure the working girls are treated as well as they can be and offers the homeless extra food and a dry place to wait out the storm. She offers her hand and gives them all a place to rest, to eat, to exist without expectations or consequences.

She does that because she’s kind, because it hurts her to see people in need, to see them suffer, not because she’s hoping to gain something from it.

The fact that most of them repay her in gossip or information or bend her ear about the newest goings on in the corrupt elite or filthy underworld is strange, yes, but it’s nice to know what’s going on in the city, she supposes. And one time, Kathy, who works on the corner of Brookes and Gilmore, warned her of a drug raid that saved her an unnecessary trip to the police station so it’s not like it doesn't have it’s uses.

But mostly, Mari doesn't really think about all the information that’s unintentionally or otherwise passed onto her. She remembers it all, because it’s rude not to listen when people talk to her, but nothing comes of normally.

Not until Serrure—now twelve and well versed in the magic of illusions and glamors and knows almost as much about this city as her or the Bats—bursts into the bakery one day and grabs Mari away from the front counter right in the middle of a customer ordering. She should, perhaps, be a little angry at that but Tony, one of the older boys and just shy of sixteen, steps into her place almost immediately, so.

And then Serrure speaks and everything is pushed aside in favour of the next words to fall from his lips.

“Someone took Sophie,” he says and she nearly sees red.

After Serrure, Sophie has been here the longest. She is the youngest of them all, only seven, but oh so clever and kind and while she looks nothing like her, everyone calls her Mini-Mari. If Serrure is her beloved first son, Sophie is her treasured daughter.

She’s out the door in the next moment, storming her way to their base. She has Sophie and a handful of extra kids back by sunset, a little frightened, but no worse for wear. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, besides making sure that the idiots who dared cross her never do so again, but word gets out.

Soon, her kids and teens and adults begin giving her more than just information, they begin giving her problems. Ones she’s meant to fix because she’s Pixie. She’s safety, she’s protection, she’s the one the people start to turn to for help.

And enter stage left, one Jason Todd who’s all snark and charm and smiles wrapped up in a nice leather bow and tall enough that Mari likely could climb him like a tree. If that was something she wanted, she guesses.

(She wants. She just won’t admit.)

He becomes a regular at the bakery and befriends most of her kids.

Mari’s wary when he first takes an interest in them. They’ve been hurt and a lot of them are still adjusting to being safe and it doesn't matter that this man is hot enough to burn, if he steps even a toe out of line with her kids she’ll make him wish he was never even born.

But, she stops worrying eventually. The kwami like him well enough, but seem to think something’s odd about him—but its Gotham, who isn’t strange?—and both Serrure and Sophie take to him like ducks to water and they’re both good judges of character.

There’s a certain intuition they both have that reminds Marinette just a bit too much about herself and pure magic. Not for the first time does she wonder if they got such strong magic from their parents or if it cropped up in them randomly, fostered by fortune and chance and the magic that’s so deeply seeped into the bones of her bakery it’ll be here long after she’s gone.

And, okay, so she was a little right to be wary because Jason was mostly there to investigate her. Far too many people respect her and are loyal to her and she has a veritable orphanage in her pocket and also Harley and Ivy like her and it just- it doesn’t look good right?

But Jason’s a good detective and it doesn't take him long at all to see that Mari is just as sweet and kind and loving as she appears to be. Not long after that, Red Hood declares Pixie and all of hers, under his protection. She, of course, is more than capable of taking care of her and hers, and the underworld knows this, has seen it, but he does it anyway.

The news, of course, gets back to Mari and she is… confused. Why would the Red Hood do something like that? She’s heard talk of him being sweet on kids, but to claim her? They’ve never even met.

Bonus points for Jason being there when she’s told about it. He kind of raises his eyebrow at her because, huh, that was fast, and then spends the next few minutes talking up the Red Hood to her much to her utter bafflement.

He actually keeps doing that too, talking up the Red Hood. Mari thinks he has a crush on the man for the longest time because of it. Until he reveals he is Red Hood, then she just wants to punch his stupidly handsome face for being such an idiot.

Shit happens from there and things go down and the two spend a couple of months dancing around each other and intentionally and unintentionally ruling the criminal underworld and at one point Marinette definitely punches Bruce and Batman in the face—separately, much to Jason’s unending joy—and she also definitely adopts Duke/Signal as well because that poor boy needs to know he’s not alone.

And it’s just them being domestic and badass and lowkey raising an army of children and falling in love while the kwami and the kids and Chloé are all in the background just yelling at them to get together already!

Which, they do. Eventually. After all the secrets come out and Jason knows about the magic and Order and meets Mari’s other friends, ie Kagami, Luka and Adrien who are all intimidating for wildly different reasons. And Mari finds out that Jason died and came back (which earns him the nickname firebird btw) and that he was a Robin once upon a time but is now Red Hood and oh my kwami it all makes sense now.

Jason confesses like three times via classic Victorian romance novel quotes because he’s a fucking literature nerd but it’s not until he basically spells it out for Mari does she really understand. it’s all very sweet and heartwarming and then the pair duck into one of the empty pocket dimensions they have lying around and aren’t seen for three days.

(No one really goes to look for them tbh)

Chloé definitely teases them about early honeymoons and things but besides the two being even more ridiculously lovey-dovey than usual, life goes back to normal. Or as normal as it gets for them. 

And they all live happily ever after the end.

[reiven2017]

Delicate steel.

Chapter 5

The knuckles on Damian's hands turned white as he gripped the steering wheel with force and the artificial leather under his palms creaked pitifully.

He sat in his car for 40 minutes and could not and did not want to think, his body did not obey commands while only her smell was in his head. The smell of his steam.

He used to think that the torment was not knowing if his true mate existed in the world, but now, when he knew that she was there and lived somewhere nearby, Damian was going crazy and realized that he was ready to burn in Hell just to see her. To feel her scent again, dispersing the blood in his veins. The smell, with the help of which he felt alivefor the first time in all 17 years.

At first, having felt a strange smell and an inexplicable reaction of his wolf, Damian did not know what to think, believing that this was just an idiotic joke of his brain. He had been so used to loneliness for many years and already seemed to have reconciled himself to his fate and experienced panic, realizing that the wolf was glad to smell a couple. To tell the truth, Wayne didn't know why he was afraid, this was all new to him and he had no idea what to do with it.

Wayne didn't know what this new feeling was when he caught himself thinking that he was angry after learning that Grayson met his couple first.

The guy gripped the steering wheel with a new force, anger and something else burned his body from the inside, when he thought about Richard's hands touching his mate, his eyes saw his mate, he spoke to his mate and heard her voice, and Damian was forced to be content and rave only with a barely perceptible smell.

He was ready to personally interrogate Grayson, as long as it took and even more until he compiled a complete list of all the people he had met this week. Time, place, description of a person all this, he is ready to knock it out of him by force if it becomes necessary.

The very next day it became clear who she was. More precisely, almost nothing has become clear now. Dick, exhausted and tired from the endless questions of the evil Alpha, suddenly dug out a strange incident on the road from the depths of his consciousness. He did not remember anything important and valuable, except that the girl had strange, bright hair and he helped her with a panic attack. He didn't know the face or the name, and he didn't remember it.

The information about her attack caused Damian's parents to worry, but he dryly ignored them, turning only one thought in his head about hair. The next day, his people were already scouring the city and the search continued until now and Damian did not know a week or less had passed since that moment, but his patience was dangerously exhausted and the guy did not know how much longer he would hold out in ignorance of where his mate was.

Rumors that the heir of the Wayne family finally had a couple scattered like a flock of birds, and after the rumor reached the neighboring flocks. Damian was congratulated by other wolves, asking about how soon he would bring his mate to the pack, and he just waved away their questions, asking himself the same question.

His family called him crazy. He saw only her, his wolf felt only a couple, and this sometimes became dangerous.

Occasionally, at night, the guy woke up from the fact that he felt someone else's emotions. It happened insanely rarely and felt intangible and so far away that Damian began to feel that he was really slowly going crazy. Sometimes he stopped understanding what he was feeling, and for someone in whose veins Alpha blood flows, it was disastrous. Wayne was still a fucking Alpha and the concern for his mate was becoming very problematic for his affairs.

All this made him restless, anxious, nervous, and he hated it.

Now the guy was standing on the side of the road, the engine of his car was not turned off, and his phone was bursting with calls and messages. His cell phone screamed again, pulling him out of the bottomless world of emotions, reminding him of what Damian was doing and was going to do, as his thoughts went to the damn ass as soon as he felt the echoes of other people's emotions again.

This time, it was something remotely similar to fear and it made his wolf howl in despair that he was not there at that moment to protect her. Damian tried not to think about anything bad. Just the thought that something irreparable had happened to his mate and the guy couldn't restrain himself from growling.

Wayne blinked stupidly, trying to normalize his vision, looking at the windshield of the car, but his gaze disappeared somewhere in the distance. He followed the drop of water running down the glass with his eyes and shuddered sharply, returning to reality. Damian took a deep breath, trying to start reacting again and grabbed the phone with an uncoordinated movement. He saw a couple of missed ones from his father and Grayson, and his brain finally began to convulsively return to reality, trying to start working again. He was driving to the pack council when the guy was overtaken by the emotions of his mate and unable to cope with it, Damian was forced to pull over to the side of the road.

They even washed about his mate, made him weak and Damian became disgusted with himself and his pity. He was fucking Wayne, a fifth-generation Alpha, and he shouldn't have been sitting around melting like a stupid boy dreaming of a girl.

The thought made him frown. He sent a quick message to his father that he would be there soon and threw the phone on the back seat, rubbing his face. Damian was no longer going to be driven by emotions and behave like a madman in love. He doesn't even know who she is, and already breathes unevenly at the thought of her. It was insanely stupid for Damian.

The guy growled angrily and pressed the gas pedal harder than necessary. He still has a question about the pack council, and if Damian doesn't show up there during this time, his family will raise the issue of his execution.

                                                           ======

At the same time, on the other side of the city, Raven was once again asking how she had allowed herself to be persuaded to do this, standing in front of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city and frowning listening to the muffled music coming from the half-broken windows.

These five hours in her life were the most intense in her entire history and Rachel was afraid to think what would happen next. She barely fought off Rogers with a wardrobe of indecently short dresses and won her right to stay in shorts with a T-shirt and a jacket. Roth wondered where Amy had gotten these dresses and if Mrs. Rogers knew about their existence. After slipping through the window in her room, she and Amy found themselves on the street, where, according to her, a taxi was waiting for them. The car was really standing a few houses away from Rach and she allowed herself to be seated in a rather muddy-looking car, clutching a knife in her pocket all the way, and then she was happy to stay in the car after seeing the place where the party was taking place.

Rachel had never been to a party before and was not eager. She had a list of what was bad and what was good, and the parties just related to the terribly bad. She knew that this was bad, partly because it was at one of the parties at the age of 16 that her mother met Rachel's father, Traygon, and became pregnant. She also did not like a large crowd of people who were under the influence of alcohol and carnal desires and she herself had never had a love for this kind of event and she had a hundred and one reasons why it was just a terrible idea.

But she was still standing there, giving her hoodie to Amelia, who was shivering in her dress.

-" How would you like to go home and forget the way here? " Rachel drawled warily as she dodged a drunken crowd of teenagers.

She looked at Amy, who was trying to force a smile, but her eyes were just as uninspired looking at the gloomy building in front of her.

Rogers tangled herself more tightly in Raven's sweater, casting a brief glance at her, trying to distract herself from the darkening facade of the building and the growing sense of fear. It was the first time she was so far from home, and if it hadn't been for Raven, who agreed to go with her, Amelia would never have decided to do this.

- "I didn't know you had so many tattoos. " Rachel smiled dryly.

"More than twenty...I think. I've never counted them.

"Do they all mean something to you?" Rachel frowned, thinking about the answer to the question. She didn't want to lie to Amelia, and lying was never her strong point, but it would be better for both of them if they were just stupid drawings without meaning and without what was hidden under them.

- "no. Just pictures." she smiled.

- "Cool. Amy's distant reply sounded." The girl nodded in the direction of the warehouse. -" I think so...should we come in? Michael...he should have been there a long time ago." -" I prefer to stay here. "Rachel caught the girl's reproachful look and just shrugged.

But Amelia Rogers wasn't the one who hesitated for a long time.

"Raven?" Amy said, glancing at the building, and Raven's name sounded questioningly on her lips. Roth looked at Amy for a few seconds, her thoughts were still against this whole terrible idea for the sake of one stupid boy, but she perfectly saw the love in the girl's eyes just at the mention of his name and smiled encouragingly at her, gently squeezed Amelia's hand.

Even if Raven had a certain fear of the party, strangers and the unknown, now...and even before that, she will not be able to say no when her hand is squeezed as the only support.

And Rachel Roth was the one who thought about others, much more than about herself.

Amelia nodded, a smile bloomed on her lips, and after returning the hoodie to Raven, she proudly walked to the warehouse, blowing a kiss to her friend. Rachel only quietly grinned after her, catching up with the girl and not noticing how wild, red-flushed eyes looked at her from the shadow of the forest surrounding the warehouse, and the toothy mouth stretched out in a cold snarl.

                                                    ======

From the first moment they entered the warehouse, the thundering music deafened Rachel and she hovered in space for a second, trying to orient herself. There were neon signs everywhere, music and smoke, and Raven counted about ten couples kissing as she and Amy walked down the corridor and shyly covered her eyes with her hand, at the sight of not just kissing couples. Rogers snickered maliciously at Rachel

's reaction.

- "Shut up." Raven grumbled, still half covering her eyes with her hand.

She learned early what sex is because her mother saw fit to tell her about it at an early age and Rachel sometimes hated her for it.

Raven didn't know if it was related to Angela's pregnancy or if it was just her parenting method, but she remembered closing her ears to her mother's words, blushing in every possible way. Even now, having already a driver's license and a mental disorder, Rachel never considered herself old enough and ready for this, without ceasing to be embarrassed and it was quite stupid in her opinion, but she couldn't do anything about it.

She grimaced, feeling annoyed when some left-handed dude blew cigarette smoke in her face, continuing to follow Amelia down the corridor. She didn't know if the girl had been here before, but of the two of them, Rachel thought that Rogers knew what she was doing, so she just followed her.

The music grew louder and minutes later a massive door appeared at the end of the corridor, and behind it a huge room. The sharp smell of alcohol and something sweet hit Rachel's nose, sharpening her senses and she had to admit that the club looked much better inside than outside. It was a large, spacious room, in the center of which was an improvised dance floor, a DJ booth and hundreds of people, covered with music and alcohol. At the end there was an iron staircase and Rachel followed it with her eyes, paying attention to the fact that there was something like a second floor on top, where the party guests were. To her right was a large neon-lit bar, to which Amy dragged her through the crowd, grabbing Rachel by the arm.

She barely caught Amelia's words to the bartender over the loud music, but the next minute Raven was staring in disbelief at the machine in her hand, in which an amber liquid was splashing.

- "Is it necessary? "- she said and felt Amy roll her eyes almost to the ceiling, standing with the same glass and smiling provocatively.

-" Yes, especially for a boring ass like you. "Raven looked doubtfully at the glass again, completely sure that it was something alcoholic. Probably not once in her life had she stood and breathed so close to alcohol and did not even expect to drink when she agreed to a party, but the amber liquid in her hand aroused her curiosity. Rachel had no idea what the hell was in her glass and it did not cause confidence, although she trusted Amy, but her cheeky side of character began to take up and Rachel tried to sniff the drink, catching the mocking look of the bartender. It made her pride growl.

- "How about something else and non-alcoholic?"

"Oh, my God, Rachel, just drink this!" Amelia shouted, trying to shout over the loud music and drained her glass in one gulp. Raven stepped back, and after a few seconds she couldn't breathe as her throat burned and her lungs filled with fire as she tried to breathe. It was bitter, sharp and hot, but Rachel hummed to herself when the first sensations subsided and a pleasant sweet taste was felt on the tongue. It was a sharp contrast and it seemed to stop the time inside her and Raven caught herself that she liked it. The corners of her lips lifted in a satisfied grin and she defiantly licked her lips, collecting the remains of the drink, seeing how the young man behind the counter nervously swallowed.

Sometimes Rachel did it before she thought about it, but alcohol inspired her with confidence that previously she would not have had enough for this. Amelia watched this scene with the pleasure of a mother for her child.

- "Why didn't you tell me earlier about the magical effect of alcohol on you? I would put it in your lunch every day." - she drawled mockingly, replacing their drinks. Raven shrugged, twirling the glass in her hands and drank without hesitation. She felt her brain beep a warning signal to her, but ignored it and heard Rachel call sharply. She barely managed to leave the glass on the counter before Ro was dragged back into the crowd.

- "Let's go dance."

- "What about your adventures with Michael? " Raven finally remembered their main goal.

"That's why we're going to dance, Rachel...I saw him near that column." Amy whispered conspiratorially in her ear and led them to the one Raven Colon understood. They squeezed in between the flow of people, slowly dancing to the music Rachel tried to concentrate, the alcohol hit her well in the head, but she continued to wander with her eyes in the direction where Amy was nodding. Then she saw him, a dark brown-haired man with gray eyes, vaguely known to her from her friend's love stories as Michael. He seemed to be playing football...or not, and that didn't interest Raven much.

"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked.

-" Push us off. Amelia's immediate response came, and Raven's eyebrows shot up in surprise when it sounded like a well-thought-out plan from Rogers ' mouth.

- And?

-" Now we will pass by him and you will accidentally  stumble and push me into him. " Amelia dictated, and shot Rachel a furious look. "Don't you dare miss."

- "And he will save you from meeting the asphalt like a prince?"

- "Exactly."

- Okay. - if it hadn't been for the two glasses she had drunk, Raven would never have agreed to such an adventure, but now she found it somewhat funny.

"If you do it right, I'll get you some more of those cocktails." Amy smiled cheerfully.

"Oh, this is definitely getting interesting."

                                                           ======

Raven leaned against the bar, irritably trying to wipe off her beer shorts. Some drunk idiot decided to flirt with her without being able to connect even two letters and stumbled, overturning the contents of the glass on the girl. Her head gradually began to spin, and her vision became blurry and indistinct, and she felt her body relax and get drunk, making her pliable and sluggish, and Rachel suddenly frowned.

Oh, yes, Rachel Roth, keep digging your own grave.

Rachel grimaced irritably, rubbing her face and returning the remnants of her mind, she was determined to get out of here before it was finally too late. She would have done it much earlier if it hadn't been for Amy, who, as expected, fell into the arms of her prince and flew away from Raven on the wings of love, forcing Roth to hang out near the bar, ignoring her anger at her friend.

She was angry at Rogers for just leaving her, but at the same time she was worried about her. Amy hadn't been in her field of vision for a long time, and Raven tensed her eyebrows on the bridge of her nose. Theoretically, Amy was with Michael, which means no one else could threaten her, but Rachel was the one who knew what girls in love could do and it covered her with a wave of nervousness. Maybe she was exaggerating, or maybe it was the effect of alcohol on the brain, but panic slowly rolled up to her throat and Raven rushed into a bunch of dancing people with a clear goal to get her friend away from here.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but a sharp sense of danger and panic didn't stop leaving Raven and she wasn't sure if it was just because of Amy.

Rachel suddenly found herself barely breathing as she scoured the building in search of a friend and her gaze involuntarily stopped on the man.

He was there, standing in the darkest corner of the opposite wall and his eyes were incredibly glowing when the man looked directly at Raven and she felt a herd of goosebumps run through her skin as soon as she could recognize in his dangerous and cruel smile, the local leader of the football players and her nedo-rapist Jonathan Wild.

He was looking at Rachel and only at her, and when he caught her eye, he grinned caustically. Raven swallowed hard.

Fuck.

The fear for her friend faded into the background. Now Raven was beginning to fear for herself. She didn't know what Wilde was capable of, but the fact that he was right here and right now, watching Rachel with fierce eyes made her doubt that it was an accident and her body froze with fear and Raven didn't know that it was possible to sober up so quickly.

She watched as Wilde moved in her direction, waving away everyone who got in his way, and this pushed Rachel to take a few frightened steps back. She needs to run. Right now. Her eyes carefully and warily slid around the room and Raven clung to the green sign "exit" under the stairs, and without wasting a minute rushed there. She felt like vomiting was rising in her throat from sudden movements and convulsive brain work, but she continued to confidently make her way to the exit through the crowd of people.

Grabbing the door handle, she forcefully pulled the iron door, literally falling out of the building, covering her mouth with her hand and leaning over the cold iron railing, spat the bitter taste of alcohol on the asphalt. Her head was buzzing, her hands were crumpled, and the fabric of her black shorts was soaked through with beer, viciously sticking to her body and she opened her eyes wide, staring into the forest.

Damn Data with its solid thickets.

Rachel tried to figure out what to do next. She had no idea where she was and was going to bite off her finger from anger that she didn't pay attention to the road when she and Amy were driving in the car. Her phone, of course, was happily left at home. And who could Raven call when her parents had already had their third dream, believing that their daughter was sleeping in her room with a girlfriend.

Amy. Raven could only guess where this woman had gone, but at least she was sure that she had a phone and money with the prince and urged herself to calm down mentally, her problem with the ferocious Wild hung over her a danger sign and Rachel had to move away from the building a few steps, I hope that she was able to break away.

Several long minutes passed, Wilde did not appear, but her nerves were on edge, Rachel stopped breathing, then inhaled sharply without taking her eyes off the iron door. The music continued to be loud, and Raven knew that no one would hear her screams from here. She shuddered.

Don't you dare think about it, Rachel Roth. You made it. You ran away. Well done.

In the next minute, her blood cooled and stopped, and her mind completely refused to accept what was happening. Raven heard a branch snap at her side and she heard a growl. A wild, bestial and dangerous growl, not capable of being made by a person. She swallowed hard, her muscles stretched into a rigid string and she did not remember how she turned around, meeting the gaze of three pairs of eyes. Wolf's eyes.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

all this tlk of dc being shitty is getting me down. give us ur top 5 FAV batfam moments wen stuff wznt as terrible ! wut made u start loving them !

You know what? I’m going to take this a step further, because thinking about favorite moments got me thinking about a lot of things, and yeah, let’s talk about good comics things. 

In fact, I’m going to do this in 3 parts and if you (any of you) read it and want to keep this going, make your own post answering these three questions (then maybe go tag some people to keep it going): 

What got you into comics

What are 5 of your favorite moments in comics

What are some other miscellaneous things you love about comics

What Got You Into Comics

I tell this story often, but I had a weird adventure into comics. I got an advanced digital copy of the first Grayson trade about the same time I was working at a library that got single issues of Batman (as a promotional thing DC may have been doing at the time? I don’t think we paid for them because they came randomly and sometimes in large bundles) so reading through Grayson made me go “wow I’ve missed a lot” then I flipped through a copy of Batman trying to find some Context as to what was going on and hit this panel 

It wasn’t the story, I had absolutely no idea what was going on (so much so that I tore around the library trying to find all the single issues of Batman we had at the time) but instead the realization that Bruce Wayne, Mr. I Work Alone not only had 1 Robin but a whole flock of them and there was one, very small child, who called him Father. 

It was both a puzzle and that moment where you’ve adopted a character even though you know nothing about them, and it was brilliant. 

Top 5 (or more) favorite comic book moments

1. The Hug. You know, the one. 

2. The other Hug, the dad one. The Dad went all the way to Apokolips to save his son and almost died doing it one

3. Also one of my absolute favorite things done in a comic is the way that Gleason parallels Batman and Robin #18 with issue #40. There’s a part that’s shot for shot lonely, sad, grieving Bruce to happy dad who has his son back. It’s so good? It makes my heart so happy:

4. That time Dick stormed the LoA because Talia and Deathstroke took control of Damian’s body and he was all righteous fury and just protective anger (because that’s his kiddo!!):

5. Like all of Batman & Robin Dark Knight vs White Knight? Because it’s just them being happy partners and solving crimes. Bruce is back at this point, but has left them to take care of Gotham and they do such a great job. It’s fascinating, because they have the freedom to just be them? Bruce is back so Dick no longer has to have that hanging over him and he can be even lighter than he was before. It’s A+ 

Also it has these two scenes

The heartfelt one:

And the one that makes me laugh every time:

3 (or more) other things you just love about comics

1. That joy that comes from sitting down and reading a really good trade. Like when I sat and read all of Black Mirror in one sitting, or Gates of Gotham, or even Batman Year One. There’s something about getting sucked into reading a good mystery or just a good story and loving it. 

2. I used to love reading solicits and being excited about what the future stories might end up being. Because let’s be honest, covers and solicits are all hot air and lies, but they’re still enough to have made me spend hours wondering what was going to actually happen. 

3. I love talking about comics, not in a complaining kind of way, but just discussing them. I’m doing this book club thing with some people where we read older comics and then sit and talk about them for a while and I love doing that. Even when stuff happens in them I roll my eyes at, it’s fun to just sit down and talk about them. 

4. I also love discovering new comics. Like when I finally sat down to read Justice League Dark? I loved that thing. It’s all the crazy magic systems and spooky things I love in other stories and to get that but with superheroes heck to the double yes. 

5. Tied with that, I’ve been trying to pick up at least one indie comic every time I go into my LCS so I can discover more. There are like?? So many more things out there than just tights and capes and there’s so much good stuff, if I had unlimited money I’d get just about everything just to try it. 

[this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms]

I Don’t Know

This is like angsty and trashy but my brain was like hey, write this down now. And I wanted something with Bruce being a dad... •.•

Dad Bruce Wayne x Reader

You were sitting on the roof of a tall building, looking out into the horizon. From where you sat, you could see all of what Gotham had to offer. It was late afternoon and you could see the sun setting behind the clouds that blocked her. There were a few rays that peeked out, like the sun was trying to make sure everyone felt her, even if it was just for a little bit.

You were up there thinking, about anything and everything. About where life was taking you and if you were heading down the right path. If there was a path to be heading down, sometimes you just didn’t know if you were heading anywhere. Sometimes if felt like you were just going through the motions and not actually living.

There was so much weight on your shoulders of all the potential you were supposed to live up to. Sometimes it just got so overwhelming that you’d shut down and put yourself on autopilot. There were times when you needed to tell someone, often coming close to, but never doing so. Baring your soul wasn’t exactly something that was easily done in your family. No, you were more of the bottle it up and hope it doesn’t explode. Even when Dick offered his shoulder to lean on or lend an ear, you couldn’t find yourself to speak your worries. Mostly due to the fact that even if he was the most open in your family, there were things that even he still hid away.

It just... made you feel safer to hide your feelings rather than let them be known. Being a Wayne was so much harder that you had expected. And, like Damian, you’d been born into the family so you could never truly escape. You could go away, take a vacation and clear your head but eventually you’d have to come back. Come back to the trying to one-up your brothers. To the galas and parties you had so much and were forced to attend, when you’d much rather be in the comfort of your room.

You were just stuck in an endless loop of pretending to be someone you weren’t. In an endless loop of not knowing who you are or what you’re meant to be.

“{Name},” A soft voice said behind you, interrupting your thoughts.

His voice was firm and fatherly, and you knew who it belonged to. “Hey B.”

Your own voice came out as soft and shaky, and you instantly regretted your choice of words. You almost never called him B, it was always dad or father when you’d impersonate Damian. You only ever called him B or Bruce unless you were trying to distance yourself. It was easier to call someone him by his name and draw a line between the two of you.

You heard his footsteps draw nearer and soon he was sitting right next to you, feet dangling off the ledge of the building. You didn’t dare look his way as he stared over at you. No doubt his eyebrows were furrowed in concern, a frown on his face, eyes searching for an idea of what was wrong. If you looked at him, you knew you’d break down in front of him and let everything come out. No, you couldn’t do that, you’re supposed to be strong. This was something that would pass soon enough and you’d be back to yourself; whoever that is.

“How’d you find me?” You asked.

“Tim tracked your location to here,” He answered. You only hummed in response, of course you should’ve known that your dear older brother tracked you down. “Don’t be mad at him. When you didn’t come home, we go worried. Damian was about ready to put on his Robin suit and tear the city apart to look for you.”

He chuckled at his own words and you managed to crack a smile of your own. Oh that little brother of yours, so protective of you. “That sounds like him, overprotective little brat.”

Your words held no malice to them, they were lighthearted and teasing. Because they were true, he was an overprotective little brat, but for good reason.

“You came alone, why?” You asked.

You had expected the whole flock to come for you, each wanting to know why you were up here alone. “When I saw where you were, I thought it was better if it was just me who came. You’re not the only one who’s come up here.”

You looked at him for the first time, raising a brow in confusion. He looked away, looking over the city that he called home. There was a smile on his face but it wasn’t cheerful or happy. It was a smile that carried a lot of weight to it, that carried the weight of the world. You understood then that he was speaking from experience. Seeing your father in such a vulnerable state didn’t help the tears that threatened to spill.

“What’s on your mind, {Name}?” He asked after a few moments of silence.

The question weighed heavily on you, you weren’t sure if you should let your worries be heard or not. But this was your father, the man who vowed to protect you from anything and everything. You could tell him what was wrong.

You took a deep breath and looked back over at the city in front of you before speaking. “I don’t... I don’t know who I am. Or who I’ll be. I don’t know where I’m going or if there’s anywhere to go. I feel like I’m just floating through life.”

“And why is that?” He asked, pressing further to really get your feelings out.

“Because I’m not special,” You whispered out. Before he could say anything, you continued. “I’m not a good fighter like you all are, I can’t go out and do the things you do every night. I’m not a genius like Tim, I can’t solve cases like him. I’m not the golden child like Dick, who’s charming and amazing at everything. I’m not skilled like Damian and Jason, I can barely hold my own in training. I’m just... average.”

Your voice came out hushed and shaky, and there were tears in your eyes that threatened to fall. It hurt to see you like that, so fragile and lost.

“You don’t have to be any of that,” Bruce replied and you cut him of before he could continue.

“Well then who am I?” You questioned, voice strained from trying to hold back.

The tears were flowing out now and you struggled to contain your sobs. The grip in Bruce’s heart only tightened at how broken you seemed to be. And he was at a lost, because he didn’t know what to do or say. He wasn’t sure what words you wanted to hear or what the right answer was. He felt so goddamn useless not being able to bring your aching mind at ease. So he did what he could do in that moment, he spoke his truth.

“You’re {Name}. The sister who puts up with four boys who do nothing but annoy you. And yet you never complain about it, instead you join in on there antics. You’re the one who refuses to sleep until her family is back safe and sound. Who tends to our every wound and cries at even the smallest scratch on us. You’re the daughter who’s worked hard at everything. Who’s at the top of her class and has done so many good things of her own. And most important, you’re the light at the end of my tunnel. The one who reminds me of what it is I’m fighting for. To make sure the city is safe for you.”

Your lips trembled as soft sobs escaped past them and the tears continued to flow out. You were gripping the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, as you listened to every word. Words that were starting to resonate deep inside you. A hand on yours made you let of the ledge and look over at your dad. Who was still wearing that same weighted smile and looked at you with equally weighted eyes.

“I can’t tell you who you’ll be or where you’re headed, because I don’t know. But I can say that it towards something great and amazing. I know there’s a good future waiting for you. And one day you’ll look back at this moment and wonder why you ever had any doubt. You’ll be okay, {Name}. And I’m here, your brothers, Alfred, to help guide you. It may not be today or tomorrow, but you will get there.”

A loud sob flew past your lips as you found the comfort you so desperately needed in your father’s words. You moved closer to him so you could bury yourself in him and finally let out everything you’d been holding in. He was right, you may not know who you are now, but you would figure it out. You didn’t know where you’re going but you’d get there with the help of your family. You weren’t alone in this, no, you were far from alone.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

What Dogs See - fic

Characters: Titus, Krypto, Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, bits of others Summary: Dogs see more than we think they do. A/N: A gift for @mayleebaby28! Thank you for being such a supportive, unconditional and kind human being! I hope everything is going well for you and yours and know you are so loved and appreciated, especially by those furbabies. Also sorry if this is jumbly and not good, ugh! You deserve better D:

From the second he saw him, Titus loved him.

The man had talked to him on their way to the house. Warned him.

“He’s a little…prickly.” The man said with a chuckle. “An attitude that…I still don’t know how it fits in his little body.” He sighed. “But…he’s good, deep down. I know he is.” Then almost bitterly. “Dick tells me he is. I wish…” Now a sigh. “Why can’t I see what Dick has?”

But when he saw the boy, in a big dark, cold place, scowling and alone, wearing silly clothes, he knew.

This was his boy.

His to love, his to protect. His forever.

The boy – Damian – scoffed when the man presented him. Said something about being indifferent, barely looked at him.

But then Titus followed the boy up to his bedroom. Watched as he prepared for sleep and laid down. Without any command, or the boy even looking at him, Titus walked silently over to the bed, and laid his head on the mattress.

Damian was facing away from him, but Titus waited. Only huffed a breath once.

I know what you’re doing. I’ll wait as long as I have to.

But eventually Damian rolled towards him, and let those silent tears Titus already sensed drop freely. Titus licked at his face, licked those tears away, and just rested his head on Damian’s when the boy hugged his neck tightly.

Yes. This boy was his.

~~

Krypto met Jon when he was born. He was in the room. He helped Kal-El tend to his wife, tend to his baby.

And when it all settled, when Lois was asleep, and the baby was clean, Krypto just couldn’t stop staring.

This child was beautiful.

A perfect mixture of his parents, of a human and a Kryptonian. Of two worlds, two universes.

The baby squealed in amusement as he tugged absently at Krypto’s ear, and Krypto felt like it was the most important moment in the history of every universe ever created.

He would protect this child. This miracle. But not for Kal-El, not even for the memory of Krypton.

For himself.

Kal-El muttered apologies as he removed the newborn’s fingers from Krypto’s ear, and he almost whined at the loss. Instead, he trailed after the father, watched as he put the baby in a crib, and then curled around its base. Even when Kal-El called to him a while later for some food, Krypto ignored him.

His watch started now.

~~

Damian was his life, to the point he didn’t care to learn about any of the other humans around. He recognized them of course, but beyond that could not care less.

So it was frustrating, when sometimes Damian went places that he couldn’t go. He’d pat Titus’s head, sneak a kiss when the one he called Father, or Batman, wasn’t looking then chase after the man like a shadow.

It was even more frustrating when Damian would return covered in blood or bruises, or unconscious and being carried by that man.

Titus hated it, hated the man for it, actually. Growled at him when he returned with Damian in this state. At least until he realized it wasn’t the man causing his Damian pain, and that he was just upset as Titus was about the predicament.

He also learned over time that his boy only seemed to come home injured when he put on the heavy, bright fabric. So, one day, when the man and Damian were resting, Titus went through those lockers, sniffed out his boy’s uniform, and ripped it to shreds in his teeth.

Damian wasn’t happy with him when he discovered what Titus had done. But Titus noticed a smirk of satisfaction on both the Batman’s face, and the old man with the mustache.

These terrible moments had a small upside, though. When Damian was injured, the mustached man always demanded he rested for a long time. Tucked him into bed and forced him to stay there. During these long times, Titus lounged next to his boy, head on his leg and Damian’s fingers scratching at his ears.

Quiet and safe and with his boy. Sometimes the men joined them, sometimes not. Sometimes Damian used Titus as a pillow, and sometimes Titus would curl around him like a barrier between him in the world.

He just wished these times came when his boy wasn’t hurting, too.

~~

He’d seen the universe. He knew the galaxies – many of them – and all the beautiful, wild secrets they held.

But nothing was as magical, or as breathtaking, as Jon discovering something new.

The way his face lit up the first time he saw a butterfly. His laugh the first time he jumped in a puddle. His gasp the first time he saw blue and yellow paints mix to create green.

It was the most amazing sight, every time. No matter how many times it happened over the years.

And when Jon discovered his powers, his heritage – Krypto was sure that there were literal stars in that boy’s eyes. He hooted and hollered, jumped into the sky and did a lap around the barn’s roof.

But when Jon swooped back down, tried to take Krypto on this first flight, Krypto took the chance to give Jon another first.

Before Jon could grab him, Krypto jumped into the air himself, swirling and spinning playfully away. He watched with a grin of his own as Jon’s violet eyes widened, and slowly, a gap-tooth smile spread across his cheeks.

“My dog can fly!”

Jon immediately flew after him, and they began a skyward game of tag. Jon laughed the whole time, and it was absolute music to Krypto’s ears.

To think – Kal-El was once the last of Krypton. The last hope of an entire race. An entire planet. An entire universe, light-years away.

And now, here’s Jon too.

Learning and growing and the best of them all, here was Jon too.

~~

His boy was strong. Cunning. Genius. A warrior.

But that was not Titus’s favorite part of Damian. His favorite part of his boy was how kind he was. How thoughtful. How he looked at the world around him like everything was new, smiled when he found something beautiful. How he tried to recreate it in his drawings and in his music.

His least favorite part, though, was how much his boy hated himself. And he knew that. He knew that from the day he met him. So he always stayed close. Gave Damian all the kisses, love and protection he could, every time he saw him. Every time he could.

But it wasn’t enough, and sometimes that hurt. He could see it, when Damian separated himself from his family when they were all together. How he blamed himself for things that were not his fault. But worst of all, how he didn’t feel worth anything, or deserve anything.

Like the nights he came back in that colorful costume alone, limping and bleeding. How Titus would try to lick his wounds and Damian would shove him away. How the old mustache man would offer the same, and Damian would snap sharp words at him instead. All but crawl to his bedroom and close the door even to Titus, and allow himself to suffer in silence. Suffer alone.

Or the times Titus would see the man yelling at him. Scolding him. And maybe sometimes it was deserved. Titus would see the mustached old man nodding when it was. But other times it wasn’t, and the mustached old man would furrow his brows and hold his hand over his mouth.

But even if it wasn’t deserved, Damian would not fight back. Not like he was capable of. He might have a little attitude here and there, but generally allow the hateful words to wash over him. Allowed himself to believe them.

The moments with the one frequently called Tim were bad. They would yell at each other, and insult with a purpose. Sometimes it would come to blows, and Titus would do all he could to separate them. Pull Damian back by his clothes. Growl at Tim until the other backed away with his hands raised in surrender.

And then when everything settled down, Damian would retreat. To a corner or the cave, to his bedroom, sometimes down a wandering path around the manor. And he’d repeat what Tim said to him. Repeat it and lament about how correct his brother was in his awful assessment.

It broke Titus’s heart. If only Damian could see how wonderful he was. How lovely. He deserved nothing but kindness, and Titus still did not understand why he did not get it from everyone around him. Why he did not see how much he deserved it.

But his boy could not understand his barks or whines. Just whispered “It’s okay, boy. Everything’s okay,” even when it so clearly absolutely wasn’t. So Titus did the only thing he could. Followed Damian when he tried to disappear, and stayed at his side when no one else would.

Maybe that was why Titus knew how kind this child was, because Damian only seemed to allow himself to be when no one else was around. When no one could see it. Maybe that’s why he always snuck off to be by himself. It was the only time he thought he could be himself.

You are not alone. You can be yourself. Titus would say loudly in his head, hoping against hope that maybe somehow his boy could hear him, or sense his words.

You are not alone, and you are loved.

~~

Krypto would do anything for Jon. Anything.

He’d destroy worlds for him. He’d change the climate. He’d tear another being limb from limb if they so much as looked at him wrong.

But he realized, over the years, that there was one thing he couldn’t fix. One thing he couldn’t do.

Jon was lonely. Krypto couldn’t fix that.

Jon was a good kid – a nice kid. Too nice, some said. Too naive. And instead of those traits flocking the people to him like, in Krypto’s opinion, it should – it brought out the bullies instead. Got him teased and mocked, and shoved into lockers.

And Jon tried to handle it on his own, he did. He’d take a deep breath, fix his glasses and smile. That’d just get him teased more.

On most days Jon could shrug it off. But not all. There were some days he’d come home and go straight to his room and cry. Other days he wouldn’t make it into the house at all. He’d hit their long driveway, or just pass the barn. Krypto would bark a hello, and Jon would hide his face in Krypto’s fur and collapse into tears.

He never believed the hateful words. Of course not, Clark and Lois raised him to be smarter than that. But he had no one else to lift him up. No one else to hold him in these darker moments. And this wasn’t something he could talk to his father about. His father was Superman - what kind of loser would that make him look like?

So he suffered alone, sometimes in silence.

And oh, Krypto tried. Would like Jon’s face raw if he could.

Even if you have no one else, you have me. You will always have me.

Jon never heard him, of course. For all the brilliance of his powers, animal translation was not one of them.

So Krypto did was he could – which here, was not much. No amount of laser vision or super strength would do anyone any good. So he’d whine a little, in solidarity with his cub, and laid with him until the tears dried, or his boy was able to smile again. Let himself be a pillow, a teddy bear, or just a plain shoulder to cry on if he needed to be.

You will always have me, he’d always try. Maybe one day Jon would hear him. Maybe one day Jon would know.

Always.

~~

They were meeting someone new today, and Titus was shocked when the man said that Damian could bring him along. Damian seemed to be too, and the smile remained on his face until they jumped into the car and took off.

The drive was long, and took them out into the countryside somewhere. Titus didn’t mind. He spent the whole time sitting with Damian in the front seat, making him laugh and getting his ears scratched by Damian and the man both.

It was nice.

They arrived at what looked like a farmhouse, and immediately, Titus smelled something interesting. He hopped out of the car and immediately went on alert, wrapping around Damian’s legs. Damian just snorted, and pet his head again.

Suddenly, the door to the farmhouse slammed open, and a large man appeared. He greeted them as he walked down the steps, followed by a woman and child, and then another dog.

Krypto locked eyes with Titus immediately, and a silent truce was formed. Don’t threaten my family and I won’t threaten yours.

Titus remained wrapped around Damian, even as Krypto did the same for Jon. Titus hadn’t paid that boy any mind, not until the woman pulled him forward and introduced him to Damian.

His first thought was: This boy is so sad.

Krypto watched Damian with the same intensity, and took in his posture, his crossed arms, his gaze off to the side of the conversation at hand.

His first thought was: This boy doesn’t like himself.

After the introductions, the adults moved towards the house, leaving the two children alone. So Krypto and Titus stayed with them too.

The boys stood staring at each other, but the dogs approached, sniffing.

“Why does your boy not like himself?” Krypto asked immediately.

“He does not believe he is good enough, that what at, I’m not sure. And he has no one in his life to tell him differently. Though I suppose they don’t realize they need to.” Titus explained. “Why is your boy so sad?”

“He does not have many friends, probably because he has to keep many secrets from the children around him. He struggles to cope with the loneliness sometimes.” Krypto glanced up to Damian and Jon, when Jon sounded like he raised his voice. “…They do not appear to like each other.”

Titus looked back, gave a small scolding yip towards Damian. Damian didn’t seem to hear him. “They don’t.” He looked back to Krypto. “But you know?”

“Hm?”

He looked back at the boys. “I have a good feeling.”

“Funnily enough, so do I.” Krypto agreed. “I just…get the sense this may be the best thing to ever happen to either of them.”

“Perhaps,” Titus thought out loud. “Perhaps with each other, maybe they won’t be so sad and lonely anymore.”

“We can only hope.” Krypto nodded. “Our boys deserve better than that.”

“That they do.” Titus hummed. Jon and Damian appeared to be mid-argument, so Titus barked loudly, making them both jump.

They went quiet as they looked towards their dogs. Damian narrowed his eyes in warning to Titus, but then glanced at Krypto. “…Your dog is beautiful. What breed is he?”

“Uh…a mutt I think.” Jon mumbled sheepishly. “Do you know yours?”

“Le Grand Danois.” Damian said proudly. Jon just stared. “…A Great Dane.”

“Cool.” Jon smiled. “…Can I pet him?”

“I suppose.” Damian sighed. “Only if I’m allowed to pet yours.”

“Sure! Krypto loves belly rubs.” Jon exclaimed. “Don’t you, boy?”

Krypto barked and flopped over. Damian laughed softly as he rubbed his hand over his ribs. Titus graciously accepted Jon’s chin scratches.

As the boys pet the other’s dog, their conversation picked back up. Not into argument this time, but rather a simple conversation about dog toys.

Jon rambled slightly, seemingly thrilled to actually have someone to talk to. Damian smiled as he spoke too, not trying to hide his true, gentler nature.

The dogs looked at each other and grinned.

They finally found exactly what – and who – their boys needed.

[allyvampirelass29]

Murder at Cripple Creek

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

A boomtown swimming with ghosts Dead eyes can't hide Their hedonist living Drinking, debauchery and sinning Scarlet ladies having babies But a whorehouse is not a home Trading flesh for coin Tempting patrons, at the sacrifice of your boy Little Charlie grew up in the hellish dark The sins of the mother Scarring the son's heart Murder brewing in this simmering fleshpot Oh Hateful Harlot, Mother Manx Is is to your neglect and bitter thanks Your baby boy, molested, and you can't protect Your little dreamer from the wicked world you wrought for him Blood on a beautiful boy's hands But the only thing murdered here Is his innocence. Sending his rapist and that lustful bitch Back to hell Charlie, Charlie you're not a villain You had to save yourself.......

Is...... anyone alive out there? It's been days, and I'm still sobbing, my heart desolated by the roiling emotional turmoil, my ignited rage murderous. I don't know about you guys, but...... I'm an absolute wreck. WHY are you DOING this to me, NOS4A2!?!? After the brilliant turn of last week, the sleek sophistication, and glamourous entrapment, "Cripple Creek," was a backhand strike, a blatant violation that I never saw coming, and I spent the entire episode, quivering, sobbing, pleading desperately behind my hands plastered over my face, watching between my fingers, helpless to stop the punishing abuse My Charlie suffers in two different timelines, his bruises of an abused childhood mingling with the fresh wounds of now, as he is tortured, beaten and berated by Bing Partridge!!!

I hated this episode. I HATED it. There, I said it. But I think you're supposed to, I think that was the sole purpose of this traumatizing ordeal. However, as far as Bing (GO TO HELL YOU FILTHY BASTARD) is concerned, the writer's motivation seems drastically convoluted. If this was supposed to be Bing's Big Epiphany, his "redemption," (Ughhh seriously?) This episode fails miserably in accomplishing that. And if this episode was meant to do, what I had predicted back in Season One, cement him as the actual villain of NOS4A2, making him the more immoral evil, be his rise in notoriety, his coming of age as it were, into the monster he was always going to be, giving Charlie and Vic someone to unite their hatred against, it fails to do that too. The biggest misstep of the series, after so elegant a triumph, I'm going to drown my sorrows in ice cream, and try to forget that any of it ever happened. Close your eyes, and think of Christmasland........

I audibly groaned when we opened onto Bing at the Lake House. After so much needless repetition in an otherwise FLAWLESS episode, I REALLY did not want to relive Bing's point of view of the siege, unless it was him getting shot by white knight Chris McQueen over, and over, and over........ Thankfully, the rewind didn't last too long, but I was having NONE of his, "Are you there, God, it's me, Bing Partridge," moment!!! On his knees in the graveyard, (Why...... why are we in a graveyard?) Bing appeals to the heavens, proclaiming his own innocence, asking God to show him what he should do next. I snickered coldly, the whole thing melodramatic, and absurd, as he cries, "I've been so good!!!" Secretly, I was fantasizing about Buffy SLAYING his creepster ass in the graveyard, beating him bloody, before staking him in the heart with a witty saying like, "It's been a gas, Bing, but I get the last laugh!!!" Alas, alack, no such luck. His appeal to the heavens was answered not in divine intervention, but with bird droppings splattering in his mouth, which of course, translated in Bing-A-Ling Logic to, "Kill the FIRST person that tries to help you, bury him in the freshly dug grave, and take his keys!!!" It's PRAYING Bing, you dolt, not preying!!!

While the side quest FINALLY explains how Bing was able to catch up to Charlie and Wayne, after previously believed to be on foot, not to mention shot, which would have been IMPOSSIBLE, supernatural car not withstanding, it's altogether unnecessary. It was the less than scenic route to get to last week's blood-curdling cliff hanger, and I really think we could have done without all the maudlin hullaballoo, and picked right up from there. Also, it creeped me out BIG TIME hearing Bing Partridge say, "Hidey holes," because that's what I called them last week, when Charlie was adorably telling Wayne about his hiding places. "Look at you with your hidey holes, Babe!!!" Needless to say, Bing has ruined that phrase for me FOREVER!!!

"Charlie, Charlie, telling lies, soon he will be crying cries......" A chilling foreboding that was like ice in my veins........ I was definitely crying cries...... I literally WEPT with this horrid little rhyme, and even still I was so naïve, unprepared, for the gut-churning horror that waited in the shadows of a broken little boy's murdered childhood, and the degradation of the beautiful soul that survived it. It's one of the most grueling, and disturbing things, I've ever watched, and like my Darling Boy, strapped to the chair, enduring forced interrogation by gassing, brutal beatings by Bing's homicidal, ham-fisted punches, and some....... deeply unsettling sexual innuendo, I felt like I was the one getting tortured.........

I did utterly enjoy Charlie's feigned relief, as he uses that silver tongue, in valiant effort, to slip his way out of this sickening predicament. "Bing, My Dear Fellow, thank the stars! I thought you had been done in by those wretched McQueens!!" Charlie gasps, thankfully, knowing full well he'd left Bing behind to die, and for good reason. Any other time, this would have worked, Charlie would have used his coaxing charm, and Bing's oafish gullibility, twisted them into a breathtaking manipulation, weaving the lie that he had no choice but to leave him behind, and Bing would have eaten it out of the palm of his hand, because he wants that badly for it to be true. But Bing watched it happen, his face falling, as Charlie sped off without him, and he's DONE playing. Charlie's pleas fall on deaf ears, as Bing drugs him for answers, revealing the fatalities of every single one of Charlie's former accomplices, and with the finality of one apocalyptic truth....... Bing descends into a frenzied, foaming madness.

"Cripple Creek," is the double edged sword that none of us were meant to survive. Switching between the stabbing scenes of Charlie's withering assault, his lifeline to The Wraith, cruelly severed, and the slicing violation of his childhood self, his innocence massacred before our very eyes, our bleeding hearts never stood a chance. I always knew that Charlie's childhood was going to be horrid, downright Dickensian, devoid of magic and light, unloved by his drunk, whore mother, but I had no idea the HELL this beautiful boy endured at so tender an age, forever scarred, betrayed by the one person he trusted, respected, desperately in need of a father figure, only to be exploited in the most heinous way. It's a MIRACLE My Precious Love can even function as an adult, much less still manage to find wonder and beauty in the world, clinging, clawing to hold onto his ember, his remnant of pure light that persevered in a life of darkness.

The inexplicable joy at seeing a young Charlie Manx, aged 11 or 12, tapdancing on stage, along with the giddy marvel that this young actor looks just like our leading man in miniature, is short-lived, as a stranger takes an uncomfortable interest in him....... I don't know how, maybe it was the intent way he watched him dance, or the way he touched his shoulder a little too long, but I knew........ I KNEW this man was going to sexually abuse Charles, I felt it gnawing in my stomach, instantly unnerved, and I hoped with all my heart, my first instinct was wrong....... I'm devastated to say........ it was not.

Not only does this manipulative pedophile Son of a BITCH molest my baby, he first uses him to persuade other boys to flock to his house, knowing full well how much the young ones look up to Charlie, as their leader. He wins Charlie's favour and trust by befriending him, and giving our little darling the one thing he wants more than anything else. Escape. Escape from the vulgar, gratuitously sexual environment, that no young boy should have to endure, a chance to make money, have an honest, respectable living. A chance to have a father figure, a man to look up to, learn from, and take him under his wing. The shop owner offers all of that, with a crooked smile, the charade falling dangerously away, as he knocks back a shot glass, eying our boy, and then says in the cruelest, most chilling voice. "You've earned yourself some fun........"

Thankfully, NOS4A2 was not overly graphic in this lewd portrayal, but the innuendo was enough to make me ugly cry, and seethe, as this sweet child is violated by someone he admires so much, realizing in horror, that he led all of his friends to be mishandled in this same disgusting manner, like lambs to the slaughter. But our brave little Manx was NOT going to let this sin go unpunished, and I clapped, cheering him on, as he uses his sled, now tainted by its means of acquisition, to kill the shopkeeper, dark fire flashing in his eyes, blood splattering on the shot glass, and I've never been so happy, or nervously relieved to see someone die.

His mother comes to him, and instead of crying, and taking her boy in her arms, stroking his dark curls, soothing his fear, and assuaging his guilt, she just scoffs at his accusation, the picture of apathy, and places the blame back on him. "You knew too, Charlie!!!" You WHORE-ABLE Mother!!! Your son was just sexually ASSAULTED, and YOU DARE make it his own fault, like he'd turned a blind eye, and therefore deserved to get raped!?!? Charlie might not have killed her, if she'd actually had a maternal bone in her body, if she'd done SOMETHING, shown any sign of regret or compassion, but she doesn't, and I feel nothing but proud as he finishes her off too. Her death was surprising, given the admonishing way Charlie talks about his mother, creating the impression that she'd been a bane on his existence his entire life, and yes, as a writer, I wanted to see more of a direct conflict between them to make that defining moment that much more satisfying, but as a viewer, I was just grateful she was dead, and Charlie was free. The only murder perpetrated, the only death I mourned at Cripple Creek, was that of Charlie's innocence, his childhood slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Bing continues to torture Charlie in the present day, my chest shuddering with every thrown punch, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. What was the deafening truth spoken that sends Bing Partridge into a flailing rage, you ask?

"Christmasland is for children. We are special...... That's why we can't go......."

Charlie was never going to take Bing to Christmasland. All that this poor dope had lived for, dreamed of, for eight years, amidst his conning his way into dentists' offices, and offing mothers, and it was always a lie. I had suspected it the entire time, especially after the mention of a, "special feast," but what SHOCKED me the most, was the unimaginable heartbreak of Charlie's own deepest secret coming to light, and as Bing draws it forth, it's like drawing blood. In spite of being the architect of his lifelong dream, and greatest solace from a life full of abject misery, Charlie doesn't think he deserves Christmasland, because he sees himself as ruined........

I broke down sobbing, that pain, that anguish, that he's so long carried with him, ripping through me, and I'm tearing up even as I write this, remembering....... Charlie denying himself his own dream, seeing himself as a ruined article that might profane its pure vision, is a tragedy that I can't come back from. It's a sorrowful, aching confession, and yet somehow it explains so much, and in this, his greatest pain, his darkest secret, I felt intimately closer to him. At last........ we see why Charlie never stays long in his Christmas kingdom, why he's so focused on the next child, and the next, sacrificing time with his own daughter, because they deserve Christmasland, and he doesn't. Always the courier, never the partaker. Christmasland is for children, and Charlie Manx never got the chance to be one.

The searing pains of his past still guide so much of who he is today, placing a strict emphasis on propriety in every aspect of his person, in manner, speech, and dress, because he was robbed of his dignity as a child. I also, FINALLY, after two seasons, understand why he turns the children into vampires, a contradiction to his love of them, that has remained frustratingly elusive to my grasp. Charlie's childhood was taken from him, brought to a vulnerable, violent end, and by turning the Lost Children, theirs becomes eternal. They never have to grow up, and lose that purity, that innocence. I also realized, that by giving them their bite back, they are able to defend themselves, meaning no one can ever hurt them again.......

There was so much awful going on, so much inflicted misery, and disorienting chaos, that I was sure I'd heard wrong when Bing decides on an even more dehumanizing method of torture. Did Bing just...... call Charlie a BITCH!? I shook my head, but there it was again, and at this point I'd HAD it. Somebody give me a GUN, I will WASTE this SICK BASTARD myself!!! The skeevy sexual threat against Charlie felt like overkill to me, utterly ridiculous, a cheap shot at adding dramatic effect, especially in the face of his childhood shame. Bing has exhibited absolutely no inclination of...... swinging that way, as it were, before, and yeah they kind of threw in last minute that he'd done this to Mike's father, offscreen, but I don't know WHY he would do that, especially given his particular affinity for Mike. Charlie, himself, pointed out that there was no indication in the Graveyard of What Might Be that Mike needed saving, or that his father deserved punishing. It's awkward, and disturbing, and there seemed to me no method in this madness.

"If I'm a monster....... who deserves to die....... You deserve so much worse." BAM. Hell yeah, Babe!!! Thank GOD, Charlie's quick enough to convince Bing that he too is a monster, and we are spared any further asinine innuendo. Bing, after these series of unfortunate events, beating, berating, and threatening Charlie with rape, suddenly, deus ex machina-esque has a change of heart, and an epiphany that comes a LOT TOO LATE!!! We're both monsters, we BOTH deserve to die....... What we're doing is WRONG. Was I happy when Bing urged Wayne to go, and tell a police officer that his mom is Vic McQueen? Yes. Do I believe he did it out of the goodness of his heart, and has finally seen the light? Freaking HELL NO!!! Bing, after losing Christmasland, has nothing left to live for, and this is his way of giving up. If I can't go to Christmasland, Wayne can't go...... and he decides a bizarre murder/suicide in The Wraith is his final act of redemption.

Before they even showed the car crusher, I was already sobbing profusely, losing my freaking mind, because I had figured out exactly where Bing had taken Charlie.

"There's going to be two less monsters in the world........"

Meaning to crush them both, and kill the Wraith irrevocably, Bing puts on his mask, and presses the button. At first Wayne laughs, and thinks it's a game, his inner vampire child coming out, but when it hits him that Charlie's in actual danger, he realizes he has a choice to make....... Save Charlie Manx, or let him die, and go home safe to his Mom and Lou.

"No, My Boy, this isn't a game, it's time to play, Save Father Christmas!!!"

Charlie calls out frantically, coaxingly to his young charge, and I loved that so much, my heart overwhelmed with emotion. Yes, Wayne, PRETTY PLEASE save Father Christmas!!! A lot of people despised him for what happened next, screaming at Wayne for his choice, even calling him a stupid kid, but I, myself, felt even more love in my heart for that already dearly cherished little lad, as he smiles, and slams down on the button, halting the crusher, and saving Charlie from imminent death.

It's a profound moment, the abductee choosing to save his kidnapper's life, and many cried out strongly against it, but you have to understand....... Charlie Manx has become so much more to Wayne than the scary face in his mother's paintings. Here is a man that has shown genuine interest in his life, his hopes, his dreams, who has treated him gently, fussed over him, concerned, and who has come to love him like a father. Couple that with The Wraith's effects on Wayne, slowly tying the two of them together, it makes perfect sense to me, how this unexpected bond has formed. Yes, had Vic been there, herself, he would have chosen her over Charlie in a second, but when faced with the reality of letting Charlie die, our tender-hearted Bats just couldn't do it.

"Do think of me at Christmastime, won't you?"

CHARLIE. LIKE. A. BOSS!!!! The single greatest moment, and brightest scene in an hour of plunging darkness, is definitely Charlie, snapping back into his delectably dark, unrivaled perfection (although, I must say I still found him incredibly dashing in his distinguished grays) charging Bing Partridge, murder striking in his wild, smouldering eyes, stabbing him, with a reveling whisper, twisting the knife, with this most PERFECT line, that gave me wonderous, reverberating chills!!! I also LOVED how Charlie glowers in his lumpy face and says, "You were never special." DAMN that's HOT!!! My only grievance with an otherwise ENTHRALLING moment, was that inexplicably, yet again, CHARLIE DIDN'T KILL BING!!! Charlie has KILLED for so much less, and while he did offer a vague explanation about prison being so much worse for Bing than hell, it felt like hell frozen over that Charlie would ever let Bing live. I know this is the writers wanting to keep Bing around to creep another day, but MY GOD, hang that Partridge from a pear tree, and HAVE DONE already!!!!!

This was an especially dark episode, but there were flashes of some really beautiful, albeit fleeting moments, first with Wayne and Craig, and then with Millie and Cassie, though the reoccurring theme, the common thread, did seem to be Innocence Lost. I was startled with the The Wraith's sneaky trick of causing a child to forget their parents the longer they are in the car, and BLESS YOU, Craig for helping your son remember his mother, and fight the transformation!!! He tells Wayne that Vic's favourite movie was Jaws, and Wayne tells him that her favourite holiday is the 4th of July. (Which is really cool, because it's my favourite too!!!) This slows the Wraith's effects on Wayne, and becomes a very special moment between father and son, as they fight to keep Vic's memory alive.

"How do you know my mom?"

"She was my best friend."

More overwhelmed sobs, because apparently I haven't cried enough this episode!!! Craig decides not to tell Wayne that he's his father, but our little Bats is ingeniously clever, and I think he's going to figure it out before long!!! Another mini heart attack comes with a second lost tooth. The suspense of Wayne's slow turning, mirroring the tender emotion in this scene was fantastic.

Millie and her mother have a similar moment, and I thought that was BRILLIANT of her to introduce Vampire Millie to her former human self. The two play with dolls, and human Millie talks about how she can't wait to go on a date, and have adventures when she grows up! It's such an endearing scene, and also incredibly sad, as the pale, gaunt shell of Vampire Millie envies her bright, and bubbly human counterpart, seeing the hope and innocence that she's so long been bereft of. "She's me...... Who I'm supposed to be." Cassie explains that her father's sad fantasy is depriving Millie of the gift of growing up, and explains that there's nothing Charlie Manx fears more than a woman with her own mind, and that's the LAST thing he wants his beloved daughter to become. A woman that would eventually leave him. More tears. Poor Millie. Poor Charlie!! Can I just give everybody a hug!?

"Cripple Creek," lingers like BAD Dream, and all I want to do right now, is curl up with Charlie Manx, hold him in my arms, stroke his cheek, soothe him with the tenderest hands, and softest words, tell him he's beautiful, and that he deserves Christmasland, and the world, that he's not ruined, but PURE!!! This was my least favourite episode in the entire series, and just like, "The Gas Mask Man," will be skipped indefinitely in the re-watch, but like I said, it endeared Charlie even more to my heart, and I feel fiercely protective over him, over that goodness that still glows in his dark eyes, despite lifetimes of feeling unloved, and in ever-present pain. All I ever wanted in Season One, was a glimpse into the past that crafted my mysterious and refined vampire chauffeur, and this entire experience, My Darlings, is an exercise in, "Be Careful What You Wish For..........."

[psychovigilantewrites]

Jason, Not Him

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 5758

Ao3

Summary:  Jason feels like his older brother Dick wants his girlfriend. Too bad. Dick can't have you. You're Jason's and he's going to make sure Dick understands that.

A/N: Hey guys! Taking a break from Red Who and decided to write this short smut up instead. This has tags for voyeurism, semi public sex and Jason being all possessive. 

Masterlist

Dick got everything he wanted.

He was the golden boy, the first Robin, the responsible one, the leader.

Jason? Jason was the Universe’s bitch.

It wasn't hard to love dick. Dick had girls swooning over him ever since he was a kid. Now that he's all grown up, of course even more women would flock to him.

Dick also had a face that you knew you could trust. He was sensitive, friendly, warm, and open with his feelings.

Jason was the complete opposite. It wasn't that he wasn't a looker, but you'd need to have a specific type to like someone like Jason. People would fall in love with Dick the minute they saw him, but for Jason’s case, they'd need to see him every day to really appreciate his subtle good looks.

Jason wasn't as friendly and warm as Dick, too. Neither was he open with his feelings like Dick was.

But did Jason hate Dick? No. On the contrary, Jason loved him. He was Jason’s older brother after all, and Jason respected him. He was skilled, he worked hard. Jason had no problem admitting all of that.

And you know what? Jason never tried to overshadow his older brother. Jason never tried to get Bruce to love him more, to get people to tell him he was the better Robin, to steal his girlfriends, to snatch his best friends.

Was there a sense of jealousy that he felt? Yes, from time to time. Who wouldn’t be occasionally jealous of their perfect older brother?

But Jason would never act out on it. If Dick wanted something, he wouldn't fight him on it.

But you? Jason would fight Dick to the death if it meant that he got to keep you.

You were the only thing that Jason truly wanted, loved, appreciated. You were what pulled him from whatever dark place he was in and guided him to be the happy and content man he was today.

Dick couldn't have you.

But oh, did he want to.

Jason knew that Dick was the flirtatious type- even with men. Dick never realised how much he had an effect on people. But the way Dick tries so hard to make you laugh, to comfort you, to be kind to you. Jason didn't like it.

He knew that the way Dick looked at you was not the way he looked at anyone else.

Dick looked at you with a sense of intense longing, an emotion that Jason knew all too well.

He looked at you the way a pained ex-boyfriend would look at their loved one with somebody else. The sad smile, the big round eyes, the slump of his back that said he was emotionally exhausted from loving you too much.

Jason didn't get it.

Dick could have anyone else, and he had everything going for him. Why does he need to want you?

Jason was the one who grew up with you, not him. Jason was the one who accompanied you when both his and your parents were high as kites, not him. Jason was the one that continued to be your best friend after Bruce took you in, not him. Jason was the one that convinced Bruce to train you as well, not him. Jason was the one who seeked you out and comforted you after he came back from the dead, not him. Jason was the one who fell in love with you from way back then, when you were both in Crime Alley, not him.

You starved together, picked pockets together, survived together.

Dick didn't understand what the two of you have been through. It was the only thing about his brother that he hated. If it was anyone else but you, he wouldn't have felt the need to spite Dick so much.

But it was you, after all, so Jason needed to make sure Dick knew that he wasn't about to let you go so easily.

*** Ding dong.

Jason made eye contact with Dick, who looked up at him over the kitchen counter, wide eyed.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

“No, I’ll get it,” Jason replied.

Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick, as Dick’s own became increasingly wider. They stared at each other for a moment, like a cowboy stand off, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Dick suddenly scrambled over in the direction of the main door, and Jason hurried after him.

“I said I don’t mind getting it, Jason!” Dick yelled over his shoulder, running through the dining room.

“No, please, let me!” Jason chased after him.

Both of them zoomed past Alfred, who was setting the dining table, shouting, “Really!”

The two of them approached the large, wooden, grand door of the manor, reaching out for the handle at the same time, and pulled it open to reveal you, slightly shocked and staring weirdly at the two panting men in front of you.

“Hey, babe,” Jason breathed, and swooped in for a peck on your lips.

“Hey, Jay,” you greeted back, “Hi, Dick.”

Dick just winked at you, leaning against the door frame, making you giggle slightly.

“Come in,” Jason suddenly scowled, moving out of the doorway for you.

Jason noticed that you had raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift in attitude, and he immediately gave you back an apologetic smile.

He saw you take a deep breath and smiled, “Dinner smells amazing. Where’s everyone?”

“They’re all helping out in the kitchen, but I think you can go straight to the dining room. Everything’s just about done,” Dick answered before Jason could open his mouth.

He gave Dick a glare.

“Okay, then,” you beamed at Dick, heading straight towards the dining room.

Jason didn’t have to show you around, because the manor was almost as much your home as it was his. You have been coming over ever since he was adopted. You trained alongside him under Batman after a year he was Robin, since he told you and you wanted to be included too.

But mostly because Jason felt bad if he were to abandon you to live on the streets, unprotected, when he was eating three hot meals a day served by a butler. Jason always felt like he needed to take care of you. But he wouldn’t be able to protect you from the people on the streets if he was busy with Batman. So he talked to Bruce and demanded that he trained you as well.

You proved to Bruce that you had what it takes. You were very smart, and strategic, and Bruce saw that you had a lot of potential. Although, it took longer for Bruce to train you, since you didn’t have basic fighting skills like Jason did.

That’s because it was always Jason that protected you in the streets.

When Jason had died, you were still under training.

When he returned, you were a well trained, extremely skilled, and brutal vigilante.

The manor was your second home. Jason made sure of that.

So why were you beaming at Dick like he was the one who was with you all those years?

“Hey,” you suddenly appeared close to Jason, making him jump at your sudden touch, knocking him back to reality. “You okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he forced a smile, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groaned, “I love it when you all get together and cook.”

“I know, princess, that’s why I invited you over,” he grinned.

“That’s bullshit, Todd,” Damian entered the dining room from behind you, “Father said that she’s part of the family, so she has to be here for anything and everything anyway. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Why hello to you too, Dames,” you smiled at the youngest Wayne. Jason knew you were extremely touched by what he had said, but knowing you, you didn’t show it. You were similar to Jason in that aspect. “Want to give me a hug?”

“I’m fourteen, not five,” he huffed, pulling out a chair from the long and polished mahogany dining table that was set with fine china and silver cutlery. Jason saw Damian blush slightly.

And apparently, so did you, because you whispered to Jason, “I think he has a crush on me.”

“Yeah, him and the whole damn world apparently,” he grumbled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Here-” Jason pulled out a chair for you.

Before you could sit down, Bruce walked in. You politely greeted him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, like you would your father.

If Jason was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t blame Dick or Damian, or anyone really, for falling in love with you. Jason knew you best after all, and he knew you were irresistible.

He loved your smile, your pretty face, your sexy body. He loved the way you laughed out loud at a lame pun or cried over sappy chick flicks. He loved that although you were kind, you were still suspicious of others until they proved themselves to you. Growing up on the streets did that to a person.

And he knew that everyone else saw you as this brutal, tough vigilante who doesn’t hesitate to fuck shit up- but Jason? Jason couldn’t help but remember you as this skinny, hungry girl with the red nose who would come running to his apartment window from the fire escape stairs whenever your parents fought.

He knew you best, and because of that, he felt like no one else deserved to be with you.

Least of all Dick Grayson- who never knew what it was like to hate the world.

Dinner was casual, as usual. Having you around made it feel like it was complete.

But Jason noticed that Dick kept on giving you glances from across the table, offering you gravy, passing you the butter, trying hard to make you laugh with his stupid fucking puns.

The stupid puns you found so funny.

Now you were talking to Dick, about some show. So Jason put his hand on your thigh. You jumped slightly, cutting off what you were going to say.

Dick narrowed his eyes at Jason.

“-uhm, yeah, I think you’d like it,” you continued, face suddenly going red.

“Well, I always watch whatever you recommend, you know that,” Dick smoothly flattered you.

“Speaking of shows, I brought some DVDs for us to watch later if you guys want to..?” you glanced at everyone.

“Ah, sorry. I have to finish up some blueprints,” Tim apologized, “I really would have loved to, though.”

“That’s okay,” you waved a hand in dismissal. You understood very well how Tim was occupied with work.

“I have a history paper to finish,” Damian groaned, “Unless-”

“No,” Bruce scolded his son, “Unless you want to sacrifice patrol night.”

“No,” Damian slumped in his seat.

“And you, Bruce? Or do you have Batman stuff?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, “Sorry.”

“Well, I know Jay has nothing to do. How about you, Dick?” you looked at him hopefully.

Jason made a point to stare at Dick, giving him an intense “Don’t you dare” look.

Dick blinked once at Jason, and then turned to you and said, “I’d love to!”

“Yay!” you clapped your hands, “Just the three of us then. You guys would love it, it recently just won-”

Jason didn’t hear what awards your movie won, or how many times it was nominated- he was too busy stopping himself from punching his older brother in the face.

So there Jason was on one end of the sofa, and Dick on the opposite end. You were sandwiched in between them.

The movie was on, the room was dark, and you were concentrating intently despite it not being the first time you were watching it.

But you were the only one watching the movie, because Dick was stealing glances at you, and Jason was just glaring at him, practically daring him to make a move on you.

Jason did feel bad for not paying attention, though, since you were so excited. He made a mental note to watch it later.

Jason just couldn’t take it. Dick wasn’t even hiding the fact that he liked you. He needed to do something about his brother’s intentions.

“Hey, princess, you cold?” Jason whispered in your ear, stretching his arm behind your head to rest on the back of the sofa.

“A little, but it’s okay,” you whispered back, not taking your eyes off the screen.

“Then come closer,” he replied, pulling your waist with his other arm, to bring you closer to him. He saw you blushing slightly, letting out a small giggle.

He pulled the blanket that was hanging folded on the sofa arm and threw it over the two of you. He felt you cuddle up to him, more comfortable now there was a barrier to block Dick’s view of the two of you.

Jason waited patiently for about five minutes before he proceeded with his plan.

He leaned over to you and started nibbling on your earlobe, kissing your neck, sucking, licking, pulling, biting. All the while letting his hand on your waist rub up and down underneath the blanket.

“Jason!” you hissed at him, “We have company.”

“It’s just Dick,” he whined, “Dick doesn’t mind. Do you, Dick?”

Jason looked up at him. Dick stared, his jaw clenched.

“Whatever,” he managed to grit and then turned back to the screen.

“See, babe? It’s all good,” Jason continued his oral assault on your neck.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should go- oh,” you were suddenly cut off by the surprise you felt when Jason slipped his hand from your waist to underneath your skirt, brushing on your panty covered clit.

Jason didn’t hesitate to start rubbing, feeling your panties getting wetter and wetter by the second. He himself was getting hard.

Jason knew you had a little kink for voyeurism that you didn’t want to admit. He knew your search history, and he knew that you loved it when he watched you touch yourself.

He went a step further and pulled aside your panties, rubbing his finger up and down your wet folds. He smirked when he felt you part your legs.

Jason rested his chin on top of your head so he could look at his older brother, who obviously knew what was going on.

Dick was looking straight at the screen, but his hands were in fists on his lap, and his jaw clenching and unclenching. Jason slipped a finger inside your dripping, tight, and warm hole, eliciting a small moan from you.

Dick’s head snapped to the two of you with that sound.

Jason continued to pump his finger in and out of you, curling up at your sweet spot. Fuck, he was hard. And it wasn’t only because he had his fingers inside of you.

It was that he was finger fucking you in front of Dick, claiming you, making him watch him do things to you that Dick never would be able to.

He loved seeing his brother livid as he fucked your pussy with his now two fingers.

You were oblivious to the exchange. You were still pretending to watch the movie, even though your pants were loud and your moans were hardly subtle. Even though the sound of your wet pussy could be heard.

Jason felt your walls grow tighter and tighter, knowing you were about to cum, so he sped up, not giving a fuck that the violent movement of his arm was slowly slipping the blanket off.

You gasped, and then clamped your mouth with your hand, your eyes tight shut.

He watched Dick watch you cum, smirking to himself.

And then Dick left.

Jason was slowly pumping you, bringing you down. Once you were grounded, Jason took out his fingers, and then licked them, savouring your sweet taste.

“Oh my god,” you whispered frantically, “Oh my god, do you think he noticed?”

“No, you were good at hiding,” Jason lied, winking at you, “He just forgot he promised to help Bruce with something.”

“Did he actually say that?” you looked at him, worry in your eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear?” Jason cocked an eyebrow.

He felt bad lying to you. But he had to. He had to man up and show Dick who you belonged to.

“No, I didn’t,” you realised, “Wow. That was- wow.”

Jason kissed you on the temple, “You enjoyed that, babe?”

“Yeah,” you giggled, “I didn’t think having someone there that might catch you would make it so exciting.”

“Knew you were a voyeur,” he pinched your cheeks.

“Shut up!” you groaned, embarrassed, “Hey! Were you even watching the movie?”

“No,” Jason admitted guiltily, “But I promise you that I’m going to watch it soon, okay?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I promise!” Jason insisted, “I couldn’t help it. I missed you.”

“We just saw each other last night during patrol,” you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to touch you, baby girl,” he told you, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few days. I miss making you scream my name.”

You blushed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jason started.

“What?”

“What do you think of Dick?” he cringed internally, mentally slapping himself for sounding so desperately insecure.

“Dick?” you repeated in surprise, “He’s great. I mean, he was there for me when you weren’t… alive. Tim, too.”

“Yeah, no, I meant like,” Jason hesitated, “Looks wise?”

“Jason, are you asking me if I find your brother hot?” you started to break into a cheeky grin.

“So what if I am?” Jason huffed defensively.

“I think he’s a good looking guy,” you said truthfully, entertained by your boyfriend’s sudden question, “But so is Tim. And Damian. And you. It’s like Bruce adopted all of you solely based on looks. Except Damian, of course. Bruce has himself to be proud of.”

“So you think Dick’s good looking, then?” Jason grumbled, ignoring everything else you just said, “Of course you do.”

“Jason,” you sighed, “Yes, I think Dick’s good looking, but only a blind person wouldn’t think that. Look. I didn��t fall in love with you because of your looks- although that played a major factor too. You wanna know how I fell in love with you?”

Jason just pouted at you.

“Because of this,” you poked a finger at Jason’s forehead, near his temple and slightly into his hairline, “It’s not there anymore because of the Pit, but you used to have a small scar there. You got it because some asshole in the alley cut you with a blade. You were defending me. He was going to hurt me.”

Jason now looked at you, softening his expression. Yes, he remembered that. If he hadn’t jumped in front of you in time and blocked the strike, the man would have slashed your neck.

“And this,” you bunched up his shirt, revealing his chest.

“You like my bod a lot, huh, princess?” he smirked.

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” you rolled your eyes, “Here, here, and here.”

You poked three of his ribs.

“You cracked your ribs in three places because you got beaten up trying to pickpocket some brute. We weren’t starving that night, but I told you that I wanted to have a milkshake,” you softly smiled at the memory, “So you went and tried to get some money for me.”

Jason remembered that all too well. The two of you couldn’t have been older than ten. You had a sad look in your eyes when you said that you never tried the famous strawberry milkshake at Jackie’s diner. Jason never tried it too, but his heart broke when he saw you look like that.

Jason never told you, but after he came back from the hospital, his dad had beat him again while he was still injured because he got into trouble.

“That’s my point, Jason,” you explained, “I didn’t fall in love over some shallow thing like your good looks or sexy body. That’s not love. I fell in love with you every single time you had a new scar or cast on you- any stupid injury you got because you were trying to look out for me.”

Jason looked at you and took everything in. Your eyes were wide and watery, conveying every single emotion that he needed to hear from you.

“So get over Dick, okay?” you comforted him.

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded and gave you a warm kiss.

He never doubted your love for him. Nor your attraction. Even if he did, it was all gone now. But the problem still remained. Dick was still looking at you, Dick was still wanting you. And Jason still needed to show Dick who you belonged to.

***

Jason fucking hated Gotham.

The high crime rates only showed how many scum of the Earth lived there- and the stats were definitely lower than reality.

Reality is that the big crime bosses were wealthy families with old inheritance, passed down from generation to generation. Their families were the ones who built Gotham up- not unlike the Waynes themselves.

The stats never mentioned the rich. They were safe in their own mansions and yachts. No, it was people like Jason that received the bad end of their organized crime. They were the ones who hired the petty criminals to do their dirty work. And violence just bred more violence.

And what happened to the ones who couldn’t defend themselves in midst of all that chaos?

Jason happened. You happened. Two starving children with shitbag parents trying to make it day by day, exchanging what little they could afford with each other in dark alleys similar to the one Jason was overlooking from the roof then.

Jason glared down at the empty alleyway, and then turned to grapple to another, higher rooftop.

There, he strutted to the edge of the roof, leaning on a raised cement ledge that was as tall as his hips, overlooking the zooming traffic on the street below.

It was sort of peaceful, Gotham at night. Despite the increase in criminal activity, he hated to admit that he thought the city was almost beautiful when the sun goes down.

He glanced at the building on the other side of the street. He saw a movement there. Through his helmet, he zoomed in his lenses like a pair of binoculars, and saw Nightwing.

“Hey,” a voice came from behind him all of a sudden which made him jump slightly.

He turned and saw you strutting towards him in your tight, black vigilante suit, wearing a black domino mask with white lenses to protect your identity. The suit stuck to your skin at your arms, legs, and ass. Your abdomen was protected by kevlar that was sewed fashionably well onto your suit, still accentuating your breasts and the curve of your waist.

Jason loved your suit.

He glanced back at the building across the street, and seeing Nightwing was still there, cocking his head to one side and looking at the both of you curiously.

An idea popped into Jason’s head.

He rushed to you, taking off his helmet in the process. He still wore a domino mask similar to yours underneath, with special white lenses as well.

“What are you up t- mmpf,” you couldn’t finish your sentence because Jason had grabbed your face with both his hands and attacked your lips with his.

While he was prodding his tongue at your mouth, he swiftly pressed a button on the earpiece in his ear, tuning him into Nightwing’s frequency, so he could hear everything that was happening.

“Woah, Jay,” you flushed, “What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Take off your mask, I want to see your eyes,” he panted at you, ripping off the mask from your face. The real reason was that he didn’t want you to see Dick from across the street. Dick was invisible to the naked eye from that distance and dim lighting.

“Babe,” he groaned, and kissed you again, pulling your hips into his own and grinding his now half hard cock on your stomach. “Baby girl, I need you.”

“Now?” your voice rose a pitch , “Here?”

“Why not?” he grinned, “It’s not like anyone’s here. Besides, you like it a little bit public, don’t you?”

You turned a shade red when he mentioned that.

“So you up for it?” he asked you.

You looked him in the eyes for a few moments, and then gave him a tiny, shy nod.

The moment you agreed, he lifted you up in a fireman’s carry, and walked over to the edge of the roof, facing Dick, who was still watching the two of you from that distance.

Before setting you down on the ledge, he gave your latex covered ass a slap, drawing out a moan from you.

“This ass is mine,” he spoke out loud, giving you another spank. He was addressing Dick, who was now standing up erect, hands curled into fists.

“Jason,” he heard Dick’s voice in his earpiece, “Stop.”

He ignored Dick and set you to sit down on the ledge, facing him. He gave you another searing kiss, relishing the taste of you while looking for the hidden zipper at the front of your suit. He zipped your front down and down, all the way to your belly button.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “Don’t you wear a bra out on patrols?”

He grabbed a fist full of your right breast and squeezed.

“The kevlar breastplate is enough support,” you explained, “I don’t need to wear a- ah!”

Jason had attacked your nipple with his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it while his hand massaged your other breast.

“Your tits are so fucking amazing,” he choked, “I always can’t get enough of them.”

He then licked your skin from the valley of your breasts all the way up to your neck.

“And the taste of your sweat is intoxicating,” he exhales.

“You’re being descriptive tonight,” you giggled.

Jason stood up straight and said with a sudden serious expression on his face, “I just want you to know everything I see, smell, taste, feel, and hear. I want you to know what you fucking do to me. I want you to know how I fucking worship you.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” your breath hitched at his words, and you pulled him in for another kiss, “Fuck me, Jason. Please.”

“Fuck,” he growled, “Get out of that suit and bend over. Put your hands on the ledge. I want Gotham to see your tits.”

“What the fuck, Jason,” Dick’s voice appeared in his ear again.

While you were busy taking off your suit, Jason glanced again at the building and zoomed in to Dick’s face. Jason could see his jaw clenching and unclenching, the fury in his scowl.

Yet, Dick still didn’t look away.

You were naked now, and you bent over, showing your ass to Jason, and unknowingly revealing your tits to Dick. Jason unzipped his pants and took his hard, leaking cock out, already extremely sensitive to the touch.

He lined the tip to your entrance, teasing you a bit and rubbing your leaking juices all over his cock. You moaned again softly.

Jason looked at Dick, and gave him a shit eating grin, and then plunged himself into your wet tight hole. The both of you groaned at the feeling.

“Fuck,” you bit your lips.

“Don’t hold back, princess,” Jason breathed, “I want you to be as loud as you can. I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Fuck!” you moaned louder when Jason slipped his cock out and then thrusted in again, bottoming out.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, “That’s my good girl.”

You whimpered.

“Are you ready, baby?” Jason asked you, not needing to clarify. You knew how he fucked. And you were always ready for it.

“Yes, Jason, please!” you cried.

Jason put both his hands on your hips, and then started pummeling into you like a fuck machine.

You gripped the ledge tight, and started screaming in pleasure.

“Fuck, your pussy always feels so good,” he panted while drilling into you.

Jason could imagine Dick’s view. He’s fucked you doggystyle in front of the mirror before. He knew how your tits would look like as he fucked you from behind- and it was a damn amazing view.

The adrenaline and ecstasy that Jason felt made him almost forget about everything.

“She’s fucking mine,” he accidentally roared before realising his mistake.

“I’m yours, Jason,” he heard you sob, apparently oblivious to his slip.

It made Jason bolder.

He stopped fucking you and you took out his cock from your pussy with a pop, making you whine in protest.

“Put your feet on the ledge, baby,” he ordered, “Squat on the ledge. I want to show off your cunt.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he added when you looked back at him in worry.

He lifted you on the raised ledge, and snaked his arms around your waist, balancing you while you spread your legs in a squat.

Jason silently thanked his genes for making him tall enough to be able to fuck you in that position. He pushed in his cock and groaned into the crook of your neck, and then started to thrust up into you.

He let one hand down to your pussy and started circling your swollen nub with his finger while he continued to drill you.

“Fuck!” you screamed, “Jason! Fuck that feels amazing, don’t stop!”

“Whose pussy is this, baby?” he gave you a light slap on your clitoris, making you automatically clench on his cock even tighter, feeling the waves of electrical pleasure spark through his body.

“Yours, Jason, this pussy is yours,” you sobbed, completely giving into him.

“That’s right. This. Pussy. Is. Mine,” he slapped your cunt with every word.

“You’ve made your point, Jason,” he heard Dick grit in his ear. He chuckled into your neck at his victory. Jason knew that voice. It was the sound of his older brother breaking.

“Jason, please,” you begged, “I need to cum, please.”

“Okay, sweetheart, cum with me,” Jason started to thrust faster into you and rubbing your clitoris faster and faster. He felt you tighten around him, eliciting a long groan from him. The walls of your cunt was massaging and squeezing his shaft, his head was pushing against that spot he knew you made you go wild.

“Jason! Fuck, Jason! Jay! Fuck!” your screams and cries and sobs turned silent, and he felt your pussy flutter on his cock.

At the same time, Jason felt his peak approaching, heat spreading from his toes and black spots started to cloud his vision when he finally regained the sense to take his cock out and spill his cum all over your back in pulses.

You immediately fell back onto him from the ledge, legs weak. He caught you in his arms and chuckled into the hair on the top of you head, giving you a kiss there.

He pushed the button in his ear to disconnect the frequency with Dick. He made his point already.

Feeling suddenly exposed, you hurriedly put your suit back on and leaned into Jason’s chest in an embrace.

“That was amazing, baby girl,” Jason sighed, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, that was pretty awesome,” you grinned, “So where is he?”

Jason froze.

“What?”

“Dick, where’s Dick? Wasn’t this all for him?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You knew?” Jason gaped.

“Of course I knew, I’m not stupid,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jason sputtered, “I shouldn’t have- I just wanted to- fuck, baby, I’m so-”

“Shh,” you held a finger to his lips, “I know you. You couldn’t just ask me to do this, what with your emotional constipation. I’m the same, remember?”

“Still,” he let out a breath, “I should have asked.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled sweetly at him, “You didn’t want to seem insecure. I get that. That’s why we’re together.”

Jason pursed his lips in worry, thinking how on Earth did he deserve such an amazing human being like you.

“Now where is he-” you put on your mask and started looking around, “Ah, there he- oh.”

You suddenly turned your head back, blushing furiously.

“Wha?” Jason looked over and zoomed to the building where he saw Dick leaning on the roof door to the stairwell of the building, his cock in his fists, furiously jerking himself off in obvious anger.

“I can’t blame him,” Jason chuckled, “We gave him quite a show.”

He saw that you were still blushing, your eyes wide.

“Babe,” he started slowly, tilting your chin up to look him in the eye, “Do you like the fact that my brother is jerking off to us fucking?”

“What? No- no, of course- no, he’s your-” you stuttered.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jason coaxed you, “Come on, I know you like it when I watch you. I know you just like being watched. That’s okay.”

“Really?” you anxiously asked.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s Dick. As much as I hate him for wanting you, I trust him not to do anything. That’s why I was fine with showing you off to him. I just needed to claim my territory,” he gave you a wicked grin.

“I guess,” you said, unsure.

“You’re okay with me doing that just now? You’re not mad?” Jason asked again.

“No, I’m not. Like I said, I enjoyed it. I just- I just feel bad for enjoying it, you know?” you bit your lip.

Jason pulled you into another embrace, breathing in your scent.

“Don’t be. It’s who you are. And you know what? I like showing you off. You’re someone everyone wants but can’t have, because you’re mine,” Jason told you, “But only to Dick, though. I’m not sure if I want a stranger seeing you naked.”

“I wouldn’t want that too,” you agreed, “It’s fine because it’s Dick. I feel bad for him, though.”

“He deserves it,” Jason grit.

“He can’t help his feelings, Jason,” you frowned at him.

“I know, I know,” Jason sighed, “But I couldn’t help but claim you, as well.”

You smiled at him endearingly, the smile Jason loved so much.

“Don’t worry about it, Jay,” you pecked him on the lips, “It’s us against the world, remember? You and me. Always have been, always will.”

“Yeah,” Jason kissed you back, “Just you and me.”

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Hands Curled Like Talons: Chapter 2

... things got busy, okay? but WE'RE BACK

A Mouth Full of Blood A Soul Full of Sorrow A Face Full of Scars The Bitter Taste of Graveyard Dirt A Golden Haired Ghost A Different Game ‘verse Previous Ao3

Stephanie Brown sat in a corner of the Bat Cave, and her hands shook as they lay on her thighs.

The Cave was crowded, packed tightly with vigilantes of all stripes. Cassandra was there, Duke by her side, occasionally turning her eyes towards Steph, as if to make sure that she was still there. Duke had brought Steph a glass of water, an hour ago, and she had drunk it to placate him, like she had eaten the sandwich that Alfred had brought her twenty minutes ago. It was a hollow motion, but it provided them reassurance that she was, in fact, alive.

She did not have the heart to tell them that Talia had once told her that she had been catatonic and still would eat and drink and fight.

Tim was across the room next to a man known as Batwing, with Tam Fox, who he was trying hard to pretend he wasn’t dating around Steph, as a strange form of acknowledgement for the connection that had once existed between them, going over footage of Steph’s apartment, looking for clues.

Dick Grayson and Damian and Colin were standing next to Bruce, arguing about something that Steph probably should care more about than she was.

Barbara Gordon, flanked by Dinah Lance, a woman that Steph remembered dearly from those golden days as Spoiler, but who probably had not spared a thought for Stephanie Brown in years, held court in a corner, speaking on a headset, directing the Justice League and her Birds of Prey, ensuring that the rest of the world did not fall apart, even as Gotham fell into chaos.

There were others in the Cave—Katherine Kane, Selina Kyle and her unfamiliar protégé, Helena Bertinelli, Onyx, a woman with blue hair who she had never seen before, another woman with no face in a blue trench coat, and Jason Todd—but she was numb to all of them. They might as well have been passersby on the street, for all that Stephanie Brown absorbed them.

Perhaps she should be grateful, that so many had rallied when Nell was in danger, even if none of them were here for Nell, and certainly not for her. Bruce and Barbara and maybe even Cass had called them, and they had come flocking, to seek the little lost girl. It was an impressive force, that they had put together, and they stretched out further, into the rest of the world, with them being only the tip of the spear point.

If a force like this had existed, all those years ago, would she have survived those fateful three days at the hands of Roman Sidonis?

Old scars, scars that not even the Lazarus Pit had healed, throbbed with old pain, and she closed her eyes against it, trying her best to stop from shaking until she fell to pieces.

Her very bones felt as if they had been transformed into ice. Goosebumps crawled along the length of her skin, despite the heat that was produced from all of the bodies in one place.

Nell Little was gone, and statistics danced behind Steph’s eyes whenever she blinked. Statistics that told her that Nell was dead. Beyond that was a further dread, a dread that went back to a children’s rhyme that she had chanted in time with the slap of a skipping rope on concrete.

“Speak not a whispered word of them / Or they'll send The Talon for your head.”

What could she have done, to bring this tumbling down upon them?

If the Court was real, they had evaded the eyes of the Bats since at least Stephanie Brown’s middle school days. Why had they chosen now to reveal themselves, to risk the wrath of the Batman and all of his followers, to take a single little girl who was under theirs, and more specifically her protection?

“Stephanie?” A familiar voice pulled her out of her reverie, if not her numbness.

Kara Zor-El stood before her, her face a strange expression of concern.

On autopilot, Steph tried for a flirtatious smile, but it felt flat and dull on her face, and only deepened the lines of worry on the other woman’s face.

“Supergirl,” she said. “How’s Metropolis?”

“Better now that you’re not in it,” Kara said. Her eyes were an inhuman shade of blue—Superman and Superboy were the same way. Her hair was a paler blonde than Steph’s had ever been, not quite platinum but not Steph’s golden waves that she had once been so proud of.

She was gorgeous and whole and wonderful and her eyes were full of real worry, despite the dig.

She was everything that Stephanie Brown was not, in short.

Stephanie Brown was dangerous, and Kara knew this. She had known this since that first night in Metropolis, when she had kissed her. She had known this when Stephanie had pulled out a fistful of Kryptonite and ran away. She had known this when she had come to the Cave, after Bruce Wayne’s death, and found the woman here, tension humming through the air.

Now…

Kara could remember Scarlet. She had been young, and worried for Stephanie Brown, and small. Scarlet had been in Metropolis, that day on the rooftops; that day of fire and kisses that bruised.

And she was missing.

Stephanie Brown met her eyes, and Kara’s heart skipped a beat. Stephanie’s heart beat almost lethargically, but Kara knew better than to be fooled. It was shock, of sorts, and a sort of shock that Kara had seen before.

Nell Little was missing, and Stephanie Brown was going to destroy herself over this.

Kara had been wrong, before. She had been so sure, back in those early days of the truce with the rest of the Bat Family, won after the Battle for the Cowl, that the truce, that peace, that uncomfortable compromise, would shatter into a million pieces, because Stephanie Brown would not accept limitations, would not last long under the shadow of mistrust, under the weight of all of that painful and loaded past.

She had been wrong.

Stephanie Brown, the Red Hood, had stayed. She had stayed when Bruce had returned, she had stayed through thick and thin, through good times and bad…

But none so bad as this.

Stephanie Brown was on the verge of falling apart or exploding, and Kara wasn’t sure which one was more dangerous.

The rest of the room was watching, keeping an eye on her, because she was one of them, even if she didn’t want to be, even if they didn't want her to be. Stephanie Brown, with her messy golden locks, sheered short for convenience, with her scars and her leather jacket, was one of them.

But she might not be, after all of this was said and done.

Stephanie Brown was like fire. She was dangerous and destructive, beautiful and deadly, and she consumed everything around her, whether she meant to or not. If she exploded, it would be outwards, and the collateral could be the entire city… or everyone around her, including Kara.

Kara was not used to being hurt, not here, in this world.

She wasn’t good at staying away from dangerous things.

“Did you see anything?” Stephanie said, her voice surprisingly steady as she met Kara’s eyes.  

“No,” she said. She had spent hours looking, on Barbara’s request. She had scoured Bludhaven too, searching for any hint of these Talons and Owls and especially of Nell Little. “They must have used lead, wherever they took her.”

Stephanie Brown closed her eyes, and took a breath so deep and so long that Kara worried it might shatter her.

“Of course,” she whispered. She pivoted on her heel and stormed up the stairs, throwing her leather jacket off as she went, leaving her helmet behind.

Kara followed her, drawn by some instinct that she could not quite place.

The steps up to the Manor felt longer than usual, dragged on by each beat of Stephanie Brown’s heart. Kara could have raced up them, of course, but she kept pace, staying only a few steps behind Steph, each step just loud enough to let the Bat know that she was here, that she could say something if she wanted to be left alone.

Stephanie said nothing at all, and Kara kept following.

The Cave had been too small, too full of people, to deal with the explosion that was rattling around in Steph’s ribcage.

There was a room, purple and soft, a room for a child that was never going to come back, a child that had been buried in the ground, and Steph walked towards it, ignoring her silent, Kryptonian companion.

Nell Little was gone, because Stephanie Brown was a failure. She had brought this down upon them, somewhere, somehow. She had angered the Court of Owls, had awoken a fairytale, a nursery rhyme, and now it was war.

How many wars was it now, wars for Gotham, had she soaked her hands in? Her first rampage, her second brutal reign as the Red Hood, the Battle for the Cowl, and now this? A War of Owls, a War for Gotham?

She had brought the sky falling down around them, and surely, eventually, the other Bats would finally admit what they all already knew; that Stephanie Brown was cursed, and outsider to them and their ways, and that she would never be one of them again, if she had ever been in the first place.

The scream that was building in her throat pressed against her lips, threatening to bubble over, but she held herself back, biting her tongue before the taste of blood filled her mouth, and she gagged.

“Do you think this is a game?”

“Stephanie?” Kara asked, and Stephanie grabbed the nearest vase and vomited.

The taste was foul but Stephanie gripped the vase with both hands so tightly that she thought it might break, breathing heavily as her shoulders shook, the tears threatening to break loose.

Nell was gone, and Nell was in the enemy hands, and Nell had run right into a trap, and they weren’t going to find her.

The vase was taken out of her hands, and a glass of water was pressed into it.

“It’s not your fault, Stephanie,” Kara said, and those alien blue eyes of hers were full of kindness as Steph drank the water.

It was kindness that Steph did not deserve.  

Kara Zor-El had been a convenience, back in Metropolis. A useful team-up to take on the Black Mask’s expanding operations into Metropolis, to try to draw him back in to Gotham, where he felt safe, and where Stephanie could be sure that she could reach him.

The team up had been a convenience, because Kara was bulletproof and didn’t ask too many questions, and everything else that had followed had just been… natural. Kara was beautiful and funny and clever, and Steph hadn’t had a single regret, even if it had ended in literal flames.

Kara didn’t know, not really. She had watched the buildings go up in flames, but she hadn’t seen the true depths of who Stephanie Brown was, or know what she was really capable of. She hadn’t seen her shoot Tim Drake through the leg in order to kill one of the Mask’s men. She hadn’t seen her beat him to a bloody pulp, only stopping because Cassandra Cain had intervened.

She hadn’t seen Stephanie Brown bring down a roof on her and Bruce’s heads, just in the desperate hopes that she might kill the Black Mask with them, not caring if either of them had lived or died, as long as she had gotten her vengeance.

Kara did not understand, even if she thought she did, what exactly Stephanie Brown was.

Maybe none of them did, downstairs.

Stephanie Brown was no hero, was not the girl with a laugh and a purple cloak that had gone into the ground. She was not Robin or Spoiler, she was nothing but the tattered and bitter remnants of that girl, and what was left was a killer, a monster.

She still was the woman who had nearly beaten Tim Drake to death with her hands, because he had dared to take on the weight of her crimes for himself, who had ran away from everyone who had ever loved her for fear of what would happen if she allowed them to see her.

She had pretended for months upon end, trying to be something she wasn’t, trying to create the illusion of someone who could, maybe, be a hero again one day, but now, Nell was missing, and Stephanie was under no pretensions about how this had happened.

“It is,” Steph whispered. “If I hadn’t—”

“Stop that,” Kara said.

“Stop what?” Steph threw out her pain towards Kara, sharpening her words like the knives that she no longer used, because Cassandra Cain had asked her to stop, because Cassandra Cain was still trying to build her dead best friend up out of the scraps that was Stephanie Brown. “Stop knowing what I am?”

She stepped closer to Kara, throwing aside the empty glass.

“I’m a killer. I don’t do that anymore, but that doesn’t change what I am.”

“You—”

“I can’t bring them back,” Steph snapped. “I came back, but they don’t get to, and maybe that’s good for most of them, but there’s no way that nobody I killed could have changed, could have been better. Why do I get to live and they don’t? Why do I get to change, and they don’t? Why do I get a second chance, Kara?”

Kara opened her mouth.

“I’m going to get Nell back,” Steph said. “One way, or another. I’m going to get her back. And who knows? Maybe I’ll back down that hole again. Maybe I won’t. But I know that I’m done. After this? I’m done.” She closed her eyes.

“There’s never going to be enough to fix what I did.”

She was never going to be Stephanie Brown, the Girl Wonder, again. She was never going to be young and full of a joy that tumbled outward, boundless, swinging across rooftops. She was never going to be Spoiler again, full of a youthful righteous rage and a fierce and persistent knowledge that she was helping people.

Maybe she had once been that girl, who had been Cassandra Cain’s best friend, Tim Drake’s girlfriend, Bruce Wayne’s Robin, Crystal Brown’s daughter, but she was nothing but a spiteful shadow of that girl. She had taken everything any of them had ever given her and crushed it beneath her feet in the name of her vengeance.

She had been dead for days before they found her body, and she had never forgiven them for that, and the entire city of Gotham had paid, because she had been unable to accept that they had limitations, that they had been unable to avenge her, that they had been too… good to compromise like she had, to put her killer’s skull beneath the barrel of the gun, to take that decision into their own hands.

Stephanie Brown had been unavenged, and so the entire city had paid, because she was selfish and angry, and she would have robbed them of their greatest protectors in the name of her revenge. In her desperation to kill Roman Sidonis, she could have killed Batman, would happily have done so, if it meant that the bastard had just been dead.

The girl who was Robin had ran straight into a monster’s arms, believing herself to be helping, and it had been the thing that killed her. Her trust in Batman, her attempt to do right, had killed her, had led to her being six feet beneath the ground and clawing her way up through graveyard dirt.

What was left after the graveyard, after the Lazarus Pit… that wasn’t Spoiler, wasn’t Robin, wasn’t anything that any of them could recognize, not really.

What Stephanie Brown was now, was a killer and a monster, and nothing could ever change that.

When she opened her eyes, Kara was gone, and Stephanie Brown was standing alone in a hallway, with a shattered water glass at her feet.

The room was full of whispers and the rustling of feathers.

Nell Little kept her eyes tightly shut and kept her breathing even, terrified of giving any hints that she was awake, when she didn’t know where she was.

“She’s old,” one person said.

“Not too old,” another said. “You were older.”

“She fights well.”

“Yes.” A hand, gloved and strange, brushed against Nell’s forehead, and her eyes flew open without her meaning to, but it was only in time to catch the barest hint of a black, eyeless mask and the tail end of a feathered cape.

Nell Little sat upright, and her cape was missing.

There was a room, filled with children, all staring at her with wide, strange eyes.

The room felt like a room in a movie; large and concrete, the sheets thin and scratchy, the blankets grey and worn, the lightbulbs protected by cages.

They had taken her armor and her cape and her mask, leaving her in the tank top and leggings she wore beneath them. At the foot of the bed she was in, lying atop the covers, there was a folded set of clothes; grey and blue in color, the same clothes as the other children wore.

There were five others in the room, one in each of the beds.

They all stared at Nell, but did not get up.

“Hello,” Nell said. “I’m Scarlet.”

The one right across from her looked at her with wide, panicked eyes, and held a finger to her lips.

Nell frowned and got to her feet.

There were no windows, in this room that was not quite a cell. It was small, with the six beds almost pressed against each other, the ceiling just high enough that if Nell stood on her toes and reached, she could not quite reach the caged frame of the lightbulbs. The seam in the wall that marked the door was not quite invisible, and it resisted all of Nell’s attempts to push or pull it open.

A hand wrapped around her wrist, and Nell pulled back, yelling.

All five of the others had followed her, their eyes strange and wide, eerie in their silence.

One of them, a different one than before, pressed a finger to his lips, staring at her with wide, amber eyes.

Nell jerked her arm out of the grip of the girl who had shushed her the first time, glaring at all of them.

“Who are you?”

This time, all five of them pressed their fingers against their lips desperately. The first girl, with tangled hair that might have once been red, but was now dull and limp, pointed at the door, then held her finger up to her lips again.

“They’ll punish me if I keep talking?” Nell guessed.

All five of the others nodded.

They were strange, these children, with their matching clothes and scared eyes. Nell was not quite the oldest of all of them—there was a boy, one who had done nothing to distinguish himself, but whose hair was the longest of any of them, who looked to be her age or a little older.

“Do they punish you?” Nell whispered. If it was just her, she could take it. Steph had taught her to be strong, had given her the tools that she would need to take it. If it was just her, she would scream and batter at the doors and when they came to punish her, she would make them fight for every inch.

But Steph would come for her, and so she wouldn’t risk the others, even though they were strangers, just to make herself feel better.

The others nodded, all of them looking down, and Nell took a deep breath, and nodded.

Relief shining in their faces, the other children took her hands and led her to the bed furthest away from the door.

The smallest of them all—the last boy, who looked to be seven years old, with straw colored curls—climbed beneath the bed, and returned, carefully cradling in his arms a handful of treasures.

There were two feathers, a handful of small steel balls, a shard of mirror, and two equal sized lengths of a wooden pole.

The boy offered Nell these eclectic items; the toys, Nell realized, that they had to play with, in this small room.

Nell, unsure, selected one of the poles, and the girl with limp-red hair took the other one, and enthusiastically raised hers, motioning for Nell to come forward.

The three boys took the balls and feathers and set up a crude game of marbles, while the last girl, the one with black hair and freckles that were fading, took the mirror and sat on the bed, staring at the door.

Nell stared at this scene, unsure of what to make, of these strange children in this strange room, before finally lunging forward with her stick to combat the other girl.

She parried easily, with a fierce grin, and as she grabbed Nell by the wrist to pull her forward, a whisper carried from her closed mouth to Nell’s ear.

“My name is Carrie,” the other girl whispered, and Nell’s eyes widened as she continued to spar, a strange kind of hope kindling in her chest at this tiny sign of rebellion.

[ao3feed-timdrake]

Frightening, But Not Afraid

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2LZI6xZ

by snackbaskets

When the family is hit by a new strain of fear toxin, safety is in numbers. Unfortunately, three members of the flock are still out there, afraid and alone. Bruce may not be the best at comforting his children, but apparently, he can let his wings do the talking.

((aka, the classic fear toxin hurt/comfort but with a splash of the classic wings-make-u-feel-safe hurt/comfort))

Words: 9337, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne, the whole fanmily boys

Relationships: its big family hours lads, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Duke Thomas & Bruce Wayne, minor/can be friendship jayroy and birdflash

Additional Tags: Wingfic, Schmoop, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Autistic Bruce Wayne, as always, Family Fluff, Family Feels, Batfamily Feels, daddy!Bats, Tim Drake-centric, Stephanie Brown-centric, Duke Thomas-Centric, bruce has dummy huge wings and his kids think its safe instead of scary

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2LZI6xZ