#anyway yeah. i need to read gotham central

[laufire]

as I read green arrow '01 I've been going through mia's simultaneous cameos in other runs, and that's how I found out about this little arc in gotham central #33-36, aptly named "dead robin".

the story starts when they find the corpse of a young boy dressed in a high quality robin costume, with the tools to match, prompting the cops to wonder if he's the real robin, aka tim (who has a cameo here and there). at the end of the second issue a second dead boy appears, proving this was no accident, but that in fact they're likely facing a serial killer. a third boy (third robin) is saved just in time before the end. the man behind it turns out to be a journalist obsessed with costumed vigilantes, who wanted to be "part of their world."

what drives me insane about this is the timing. because if you look at the publication dates, this story arc started right after jason unmasks himself before bruce in batman #641, and it finishes around the time utrh picks up again (you know, after that little detour where bruce ~investigates steph's death just so he can be exonerated from it, at the cost of character-assassinating another female character).

just imagining that while jason was back in gotham doing All That, this was all happening, with bruce clearly going berserk during it (entering arkham and assaulting every immate, breaking a cop's nose, scaring the living crap out of the perpetrator... and I know it's simply about lack of synergy, but it's interesting to me to think that for all of that, he -rightly!- must've not suspected jason).

as I said. insane asñflkjdsf. I can't wait to use it in fic.

oh, and, please, behold (click for better quality):

anything to say, bruce?

[themyscirah]

Some portrait doodles I did during my flight today

[ragingbookdragon]

I’m Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 7

Batfamily x Batsis Story

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author’s Note: Anyone order a part seven? Cause I got a part seven for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Ever since the meeting that night, she’d gotten more letters from her family than she’d ever received in twenty-one years. Not that she decided to read them. The first line from Dick’s letter was, ”I never wanted you to leave because of me. If only I’d known…”. She couldn’t keep reading, and she wasn’t sure if it were from guilt, sadness, or anger, but there was something there that she didn’t want to face.

It didn’t stop there though. They kept coming even if she tacked a return to sender on it and sent it back. She’d even labeled one and written, ”Stop writing me.” but that didn’t stop them. Wally texted her every other night on top of the letters and she wanted to strangle him through the phone.

She knew though, that if she could keep holding out for three more months, she’d be home free. Wherever home was at this point. Every city she kept thinking about had some type of vigilante and there was nothing that didn’t; eventually she decided on Coast City. Somewhere warm and sunny, and as far from Gotham and Central as possible.

Of course that little voice in the back of her head just kept telling her to talk to them, but she was going to be as stubborn against it as possible—but time was dwindling, and so was her resolve.

***

“Ophelia, have you seen the extra bag of espresso beans? I can’t remember where you put them the other week.” She waited for a response. “Ophelia?” she turned and frowned. “Why did I accept the manager’s position when I can’t even round up my workers?”

She walked out of the storage and wiped her hands on the rag at her waist. “Ophelia?” A giggle sounded at the counter and when she walked out, her eyes went wide at the sight.

Jason was leaning against the counter with that smile he used to use on the models at the galas. He smiled at Ophelia. “Tell me, what do you make better, the cappuccinos or lattes?”

“Well, I make a —”

“She makes a mean ‘get in the back and find my espresso beans’,” she grunted and both of them jumped.

“Melisandre!” Ophelia stuttered, pale cheeks flushing pink. “I thought you were in the back.”

“I was. Think you can go find the coffee beans you put away?” She shot Ophelia a stare that screamed ‘scram’ and the girl nodded, hurrying to the storage room.

“Aww, why’d you run the cutie off, Melisandre?” Jason queried. “I was going to ask her out on—”

“Can I talk to you?” she interrupted, voice barely containing her seething rage. “Outside.”

Jason shrugged and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Sure, but be careful, people might get suspicious.”

She grunted and walked outside, listening to him follow and when the door shut, she turned around and hissed, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just getting coffee.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Jason. We both know that’s a load of bullshit.”

His eyes narrowed and he noted, “You’ve really gotten comfortable using foul language. You know that, (Y/N)?”

She glared at him. “What. Do. You. Want.”

“You won’t answer our letters,” he shrugged. “Didn’t have a lot of options to talk.”

“And showing up at my job is the better option?” she griped.

“It was that or your house, (Y/N). Take your pick but you can’t have both.”

“Well, maybe my silence is supposed to be the answer to those letters. Did you think about that?”

“I did,” he nodded. “But after the third letter being rejected, I decided to go big or go home.”

(Y/N) growled. “Go home.”

Jason smirked. “No.”

“I’m not fucking joking here, Jason. I don’t want you coming here. Ever.”

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,” he retorted then stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “You don’t wanna talk willingly, fine. I’ll make you talk to me. And if I have to show up here every day, I will.”

“No, you won’t.”

Jason cocked a brow and tightened his grip. “You wanna bet? Because I’m not Dick and I’m sure as hell not Bruce. I don’t have a day job to get to.” He smirked. “I can do this all day.”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek and thought for a moment then sighed and yanked her arm away. “Fine. Come to my apartment after five. We’ll talk there.”

“Thank—”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she interrupted coldly. “I’m agreeing for one meeting and then you fuck off back to Gotham City and leave me the hell alone for good.” She spun on her heel and started back for the door when his voice reached her, tired and pained.

“Do you really hate all of us? Do you really hate us like you make yourself think you do?”

(Y/N)’s feet felt like lead and she stopped, gazing at the glass door. “I don’t know, Jason.”

“Then let me help.”

“You can find the apartment on your own. I know you’re good at looking for homes.” She slipped in the café door, leaving him standing there shocked and hurt.

***

Sure enough, a minute after five o’clock, her doorbell rang and she called, “It’s open.” The door opened and shut, and she looked up from the little kitchenette, watching the way Jason walked into her apartment, gazing around the empty living room.

“Shit, do you live in a home or a prison cell?”

(Y/N) grunted. “Nice quip. Come up with that by yourself?”

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as she prepared dinner. “What’re you making?”

“Chicken marsala,” she replied. “You’re here to talk. Start talking.”

“Are you going to be a bitch like you were the other night or can I ask about life in Central the last three years?” she shot him a glare, warning him, but he paid it no mind. “You going to school?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I go to Central City Community College. Take classes all week at different times.”

“What are you studying?” he asked.

“For now, general studies, but I’m minoring in political science.”

“Planning on a four year after you graduate?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Her hands stalled for a moment. “I don’t have the money for a big school to get a bachelors.” Shaking her head, she chopped up the vegetables. “Figure if I can get a job in the area, I can scrounge up enough to start the process though.”

“Might take years,” Jason noted, and she nodded.

“Yeah, hard work usually does.” (Y/N) glanced at him. “What’s Cassandra like?”

He blinked, evidently not expecting that, though he recovered and smiled. “She’s great honestly. Kicks ass better than anyone I know.”

“Even Batman?”

Jason huffed a laugh. “I’m sure she could wipe the floor with each of us if she decided to not hold back. Her mom’s Lady Shiva and her dad’s David Cain.”

“I don’t know who they are but I’m assuming from the tone that they’re not exactly the best parents in the world.”

“No…they’re not.” He agreed. “David didn’t teach Cass how to speak so she’s been mute all her life.”

“I’ve heard the few interviews she’s given,” (Y/N) replied. “She’s very eloquent when she does.”

“Shakespeare’s influence. And probably Emily Dickinson.” He smiled. “I leave her a lot of books to read so I can be her favorite.”

She snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like you.” Sliding the cast iron skillet into the oven, she sat at the crappy metal dining table, Jason taking the seat on the other side. (Y/N) scratched at the table. “Does Bruce like her?” she questioned lowly, and he nodded.

“Loves her like she’s his own.” He her with cautious eyes. “Just like he loves you.” Jason watched the emotion flash across her face, quick as lighting, a deep sorrow, then she was humming.

“Well, that’s good then.” She cleared her throat and looked at the clock. “How’ve you been? I hear a lot about Outlaws.”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah, that’s my band of renegades. Me, Roy Harper, and Koriand’r.”

“Remind me, those were Speedy and Starfire, right?”

He snorted. “Arsenal and Starfire. But yeah, close enough.”

(Y/N) got up and pulled two glasses from the cabinet before going to the refrigerator and getting the lemonade. She poured them both glasses and sat back down. “How’d you manage to wrangle two of the Titans into your posse?”

“Kori willingly tagged along, and Roy won’t leave me alone,” he griped, sipping his lemonade.

“Mmm…and how does Dick feel about you stealing two of his exes?”

Jason choked on his drink, spilling it on the table and down his chin. “That’s not—” he coughed. “That’s not what that is.”

“Uh huh, sure it’s not.”

“It isn’t,” he glowered.

“Riiiiiiight,” she drawled out with a grin, then took a sip and set her glass back down. “Figured you’d get Cass along with you. she seems like she’d be fit for Outlaws.”

He shook his head. “Nah, she’d be better off with Tim and his Young Justice weirdos.”

“She non-lethal?”

“Mhm.”

They dwindled into silence until the timer went off on the oven and she pulled the skillet out and set two plates on the table. “You’re gonna feed me?” he asked as she handed him a fork.

(Y/N) scoffed. “Duh. I’m a bitch, but I’m a bitch with manners.” She smiled sweetly. “But you have to leave afterwards.”

“Mmm…can I crash on your couch?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Figured I’d try anyways.”

They ate in silence, occasionally speaking about their lives the last three years, and when the food was all gone and the lemonade drunk, he sighed and reclined in the chair.

“What?” (Y/N) questioned and he shrugged.

“Dunno…I’d like to do this again soon.” His teal eyes found hers. “It’s been too long since we were together.”

“Tread carefully,” she murmured, looking at the wall and he sighed.

“Sis, talk to me,” he begged. “Even if it’s just to tell me how much you hate me, just talk to me.” She didn’t respond and he sighed again, standing from the table. “Thanks for dinner.”

“…I hate that you all put Gotham and every civilian before our family.” Jason stopped dead in his tracks and turned, gazing at her, though she didn’t tear her eyes from the wall. “I hate that the only time I felt like anyone paid any attention to me was when we were at galas and even then, the attention was just for show. It didn’t matter because all anyone wanted to do was get the hell out of the manor and go on patrol. It didn’t matter because I wasn’t like any of you. I wasn’t a part of the real family.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hate that I spent more nights sitting in a dark and silent manor than spending them with my family. I hate that I never had a normal family growing up where we’d go for ice-cream after school and attend school performances. I hate that I got stuck with a bunch of siblings hellbent on giving every piece of themselves to the world and they couldn’t take one night off to have a family night to save their lives. To at least pretend to be normal.”

(Y/N) finally took her eyes from the wall and he felt his heart tighten as the tears slipped down her cheeks and she breathed, “I hate that I was born Bruce Wayne’s biological daughter and I’d give anything and everything I have to be someone else’s daughter and sister.”

Jason’s mouth felt dry, and he didn’t have single thing to say to her and she whispered, “Is that what you wanted to hear, Jason?” she blinked. “Because that’s what I feel every morning I wake up.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and she cleared her throat, wiping her cheeks.

“Yeah well, I’m three years passed sorry.” (Y/N) nodded to the front door. “You should leave now.”

Jason nodded but his feet didn’t move. For a moment, he couldn’t move them, then he sucked in a breath and started edging back to the door. When he neared the door, he pulled it open and paused, looking back at her. “(Y/N)?” she didn’t answer but he said it anyway. “I love you. More than you’ve ever known.” He sighed and stepped out, closing it behind him.

(Y/N) buried her face in her hands and sobbed alone at the dinner table.

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

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[redjaybathood]

War Games

Batgirl (2000) #55. Some notable moments:

- I may be wrong, but I think this is either the first time, or one of the rare instances where Cass displays unsatisfaction with the way she's addressed by Barbara:

- Cassandra saying to Steph "Go home" when they're in the middle of the biggest shitshow to date - I mean; I am not sure if No Man's Land would qualify? Cult, maybe - does not make sense to me, unless her previous "Where's Spoiler?" was just her being very, very concerned for Steph. Otherwise - it's all hands on deck situation. So is that what it is? Cass being more scared for Stephanie than concerned about Gotham?

Next issue is Catwoman (2002) #34

Selina and Jason have some overlap in ethics.

there areReading Catwoman is pretty uncomfortable tbh, even if she isn't written by Tom King. As you can see from the panel above, and there's plenty of things like that.

That's it, central panel is just literally full-body shot of Catwoman in a striking pose, except headless.

There's some more but panels, I won't post more of it, but you get the gist. Like, she's doing exactly zero sexual stuff, I guess I don't get the need to draw her like that. The last time I was as uncomfortable was when I read RHATO N52. It does get better as soon as Selina is with other women - Leslie, Stephanie. She's Selina, not Catwoman, if it makes sense.

Nobody is having a good time but Stephanie is straight-up crushed by guilt. God. And she's really, you know, self-blaming here. And I mean, yeah well she did set up the meet, but she killed nobody. Plus, come on, we know already that Black Mask is behind this. If wasn't then, it would be another meeting set up by him, where he successfully makes a dog bite dog, and the gang war ensues anyway.

[ethelphantom]

Prompts? Uh Okay not a romantic pairing but what about Mari and the Central City Rogues like the ones from the arrowverse e.g. captain cold heatwave and golden glider or maybe for a different prompt what about mari and the batfam but following the old crossover cliche of falling into another universe/dimension through an akuma or something

Alright, so. I’m not familiar with the arrowverse like, at all, so you can have the latter one. This certainly took me a while, oops. Also there are no romantic ships in this, just things happening (and no, I don’t know what said things are. Don’t ask.)

Ao3 || Second part

This is Maribat – don’t like; don’t read

__________

A scream and what felt like an endless darkness later, Marinette found herself standing on the roof of a tall building in a strange city. She was rather certain that it was even taller than the Eiffel Tower.

It was only then that she realised it was windy but not cold, and that made her check what clothing she was in because not many of her outfits she used during the summer could hold cold out very well. And yeah, she was in the Ladybug suit. Goddamnit. She was in a strange city with no means of returning, and the fact she was transformed meant there was an akuma running rampant in Paris.

The day could have certainly gone so much better.

It was also the middle of the night right now and that certainly didn’t help because that meant she would not be able to find anyone to help her all that easily. Yeah, indeed, the day could have certainly gone so much better, but it seems fate didn’t like her enough and was intent on making it go downhill and straight to hell.

She could probably ask Tikki if she knew how to get home from here.

Then, just as Marinette was about to throw her yoyo and swing around to see if she could see someone to ask them where in the world she was (preferably untransformed) or to at least try to figure out the place herself, she heard someone landing behind her with a loud thump. Marinette whipped around fast, meeting the… well, certainly not their eyes . All she really saw was someone with a god awful red helmet in her opinion no one should actually wear unironically, a leather jacket and… was that a giant red bat on their chest?

Good god.

Soon enough, someone in a red skinsuit and a black cowl (how old was this person? Marinette got the vibe of maybe an eighteen-year-old but the cowl made them look like fourty) landed next to them. Scowling. Of course. That was definitely what she fucking needed from this day.

Seriously, fate? It was bad enough finding yourself in a strange place in the middle of the night, random people in masks and fucking capes and angry at something (her?) really wasn’t needed.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get here?” the one in a helmet asks her, in English. How fun, she’s not even in France anymore. Hopefully she’s still in Europe, but she isn’t holding her breath. The area is too weird for the Great Britain and the person’s accent sounds more American than British. Their voice is modified, but Marinette estimates them to be a little over twenty. It’s not that hard to guess. Probably. They walk closer to her and—

Oh god, did they really need to be that tall? It was like watching a crane, like, the kind you use in the construction sites. To be able to look them where she thinks their eyes might be, she needs to actually look up.

“Well. I certainly don’t know how I got here, but I think I should blame the latest fashion catastrophe of Paris that Papillon calls an akuma. I am Ladybug, the superheroine of Paris who’s both way too young to do this and has got no idea where she is so if you could be so kind as to tell where I am so I can see if my teammate could get me back home, I’d be very happy to get out of your hair.”

She’s pretty sure that was how you said it in English anyway. If otherwise never, she’s certainly overjoyed right now about the fact she took extra English courses in school. It made communicating a lot easier.

“Since when has Paris had superheroes? Hey, Replacement, when was it you or B were in Paris the last time?” the helmet head asks the smaller person behind them.

“Two weeks ago, I think? We had a meeting there. Why?”

“Were there any superheroes or villains or some shit like that there?”

“Not as far as I was aware, no. Well, other than Emilie Agreste’s horrible fashion sense, that is.”

Marinette could feel colour draining from her face. This couldn’t be happening. Where had that akuma thrown her? “Mm. Agreste is alive?” she asked with a strained voice.

“Yes, yes she is, and she is one of the most known actresses in the world, as well as the wife of one of the most liked fashion designers. And it very much seems you are lying, miss Ladybug. You a new villain? Or a meta trying to be a hero? Because let me tell you, you won’t get far here in Gotham.”

The helmet head’s voice turned borderline threatening (although after Hawkmoth and all the akumas, her idea of “threatening” was rather screwed so she wasn’t too sure) and they stepped forwards as she backed away, her hand already placed on her yoyo to throw it if she needed to get away. Surely enough, the second helmet head’s body jerked weirdly towards her, she threw out her yoyo to the nearest thing it could be wrapped around.

“Goddamnit you fucker—”

And then there was a sharp, stinging and burning pain in her knee, as though something had hit her hard. Her hand slipped and she fell helpless to the ground, hitting her head. It took her a lot to be able to force herself on her knees, supported by her arms.

“…Did her suit deflect the bullets? What the fuck. How did that even happen?”

They’d shot her?! What the hell was wrong with this place?

“Magic?” Mari suggested, wincing as she tried to move her knee. She picked up her yoyo and flicked it open, trying to contact Chat so he could get Kaalki and get her home. She couldn’t stay here, wherever she was.

The problem was, the idea that Emilie was alive and there were no superheroes or supervillains in Paris was frightening. If that was true, then there was a big chance she would not be able to contact Chat, or anyone, really.

The yoyo just made a long sound of not being able to contact anyone, taking away all Marinette’s hope with it. She slumped right back down, barely able to support her weight and cried. Even being Ladybug couldn’t stop her. The only reason it couldn’t connect was if she wasn’t in her world anymore. And if that wasn’t a scary thought, Marinette didn’t know what was.

“Hood, do you think there’s any chance she’s telling the truth but she’s just from another universe? Like, an alternate one. I can’t really notice signs of lying in her so either she’s the best goddamn liar I’ve seen in a long time or she’s telling the truth. It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve seen alternate universes,” the one with the cowl and the cape says, tired, and Marinette can’t remember when was the last time she just wanted to hug someone and cry against someone this much if she didn’t count the times Chat basically sacrificed himself and died in front of her eyes.

(Seriously, that cat really did not know how to take care of himself. He better learn while she’s here because otherwise Paris will have no one to save them.)

“But that… That means there’s no way I can get home,” she murmurs and feels her transformation fall away as she sobs hopelessly. She knows she hasn’t used her lucky charm and she certainly didn’t call it off, so Tikki must have decided it didn’t matter in this situation.

“Oh Marinette,” Tikki says and caresses her cheek as well as she can with those tiny paws of hers before she presses her forehead against Marinette’s. Marinette can’t help the tears that fall from her eyes as she lets Tikki try to comfort her, completely oblivious to the helmet head freaking out behind her.

“Holy shit that is a fucking child and I just shot her in the kneecap? Hell, if that suit hadn’t been there I swear that would’ve crippled her and oh fuck she’s crying. What do I do now? What have I done?” There’s a clatter of guns and other stuff before they’re kneeling next to Marinette but not touching — very polite of them, because they don’t know what her boundaries are and it’s not like she’s bleeding or something that would require the contact regardless of what she likes. Regardless of the fact they just shot her, she thinks they are rather nice.

“I’m so sorry kid. I didn’t— God, yeah, no excuses here, it’s become a reflex and I didn’t realise you were a child. How old are you anyway? Eleven? Twelve?” Then she sees a red helmet on the ground without its wearer and all Marinette can guess from that is they took it off. She’s not looking at them to find out whether they’re wearing another mask under it or not though. She doesn’t think she’d be too surprised if they were.

It was… a little strange how their voice goes from angry and threatening to this soft voice that tries to soothe her. Marinette definitely appreciates it as it does bring her comfort. Tikki shoots a glare at the helmet head (well, helmet-less head at this point) before she flies to them, picks their hand up and lets it go only when it’s above Marinette’s shoulder that’s definitely not closer to them.

“The least you can do is give her some kind of a hug if you don’t want me to ruin you for hurting my bug,” she hisses, and weirdly enough, they comply immediately. To be honest, Tikki can be kinda scary when she wants to so it isn’t that surprising. Maybe. Probably. Possibly. Whatever. The hug is kinda awkward, like they haven’t hugged people much in years, but that’s fine. Marinette melts into it anyway and now she doesn’t need to support her weight anymore so she goes limp. They don’t seem intent on hurting her anymore and also she can trust Tikki to take care of her should something happen so she doesn’t care too much.

She can feel the stare of the other person on her, not sure what she should expect from them. When they do open their mouth though, it’s nothing she could have guessed, because: “Hey you know what, Hood? She looks like a Wayne and if she’s not from this world, it technically makes her an orphaned superhero child with traumatic past. Do you think B would take her in until we figure out how to get her home?”

Marinette perks up at that and turns to look at the cape person. She knows she’s gaping but it seems neither mind. “Wait. You’re going to help me get home?” It’s just a little sad how excited she gets over the idea of two complete strangers helping her after said strangers seemed ready to take her down at any given second just moments earlier but this is not her Paris — this isn’t Paris at all — and she doesn’t need to play the role of a mature and responsible heroine right now.

“Uh, yes, obviously? You’re not supposed to be here and I’m sure you’d like to get back home,” helmet head says, and god Marinette needs better names for both of them but it’s kinda awkward at this point. Well, helmet head has used Replacement (and isn’t that just a bit rude, Monsieur Helmet Head, be more respectful and learn some manners, please) of the cape person and cape person called helmet head “Hood”. Like, what hood? She can’t see any hoods here, especially not on their person.

Regardless, Marinette just straight out beams and throws herself first into the helmet head’s arms and hugs him like it’s no problem at all before she scrambled up and hug attacked cape person as well. “Thank you so much!” And oh, maybe Cape isn’t that old after all because they’re only a little taller than she is. Maybe they’re around sixteen?

Helmet just stares at her. “I— How did she manage to do what only Nightwing can? Like, I can’t remember anyone managing to hug you that easily — aside from Spoiler and Black Bat maybe — in like, years.”

“Same right back to you, dear Hood, right back to you,” Cape replies, a little tense as Mari is still hugging him.

The name “Nightwing” takes a moment before it registers in Marinette’s brain. Wasn’t that the name of that one superhero in the comics Alya loved to tell her about? The one that ended up being Chat’s sexual awakening a bit ago?

Oh my god.

“Wait, Nightwing? You don’t happen to be the Red Hood — where’s your hood though and yes I’m going to critique your style, that’s kinda my job as a fashion designer — and Red Robin — you, on the other hand, what is that cowl supposed to be? Make you look fifty?”

And yes, apparently she managed to recover from her shock because there she is, sassing two people like she knows them very well. Or like they were Papillon because she was rather tired of his shit.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, it turns out the akuma threw me into a fictional universe that I only know about because of my friends who kinda made me read and watch as much as humanly possible during the summer and there are actually comics about you in my world. I also probably know your identities because of that. Do you think you could contact Wonder Woman and ask if she knows anything about the Miraculous because if she does, that could be one way to send me back home. Her mother was one of the Ladybug successors, right, Tikki?”

“Yes, Hippolyta was one of my first holders indeed. Not the first, but one of the first. It would be nice to see her or her daughter after such a long time even if they weren’t necessarily my Bug and her daughter.”

Both the Red Hood — Jason Todd, she’s pretty sure of that — and Red Robin — definitely Tim Drake — are staring at her bewildered. It’s a little amusing. Then she remembers her knee as she takes a step wrong and winces again, falling to the ground. Tikki rushes to her side to soothe the pain, but Red Robin is nearly as fast as he picks her up. “Well. Since you apparently know who we are — though I’d like to have confirmation of it first just in case —, I think we should take you to Agent A for check up,” he says, trying to be as gentle as possible with her.

“Yeeahhh, about that, can we please leave out the part where I shot a child? Or at least heavily emphasise the fact I did not realise it in time? N is going to have my head — as though I wouldn’t do it myself for the same reason — when he hears about it, and you know it’s worse to have N disappointed in you than to have B disappointed in you. He looks at you like you kicked his puppy and stole all his cereal and is ready to relive the memory of his parents’ death and I can’t take more of it so soon,” Red Hood says, looking torn between flinging himself down from the roof without the safety of his grabble and just burying his face in his hands right there.

It’s kind of amusing.

“Yeah, I get you. Let’s see if we can avoid it, and if not, then we just explain the story — or let her explain. That sounds like a good idea, she didn’t look too furious with you after a while there,” Red Robin snorts, and Marinette can hear and feel the rumble in his chest before he can hear the actual sound in the air. “So. Will you help me convince B to take her in?”

Red Hood turns the helmet — and no, she’s never going to stop needing to mention that all the time — in his hands a few times before putting it back on. “Well. I kinda want to say no because of the probably eternal grudge I have with B, but yeah, she’s way too sweet to stay with me considering the stuff I do on the daily, and B definitely has the space for more kids, and there’s not really a way to put her with anyone else considering we do need to send her back at some point. It would be too problematic,” he finally says and pulls out the grabble. “You gonna carry the girlie or let her do it herself? It looked like she knows how to with that yoyo of hers, even if I’ll never understand how it can support her weight that easily or how she can shoot it with such pinpoint accuracy.”

That having been said, Red Robin turns back to look at Marinette. “Well? Do you think you can grabble — or swing, however you call it — yourself with us to where we’re going with that knee? Grabbling with you would be a little more difficult but not impossible so you can say you can’t if you need to.”

Marinette shakes her head. “I think I can manage. The suit eases the pain anyway. It will help if you only let me down after I transform though? And you might want to close your eyes because I’ve been told the light is rather bright to other people?” she says and as soon as she thinks Red Robin has closed his eyes, she calls to Tikki with “Tikki, spots on!”

After she was done, she let Red Robin put her down as she tested her knee. Yeah, it kinda stung but it didn’t hurt, per se, so it was fine. She would survive, probably. Hopefully.

“Let’s go before I regret this,” she huffed and played with the yoyo, waiting for the Reds to make a move. When they did, she followed.

Okay, so maybe the day wasn’t going so badly after all. It was rather fun swinging in a new city with two people she only knew as fictional characters.

…Marinette wondered if she was a fictional character in their world and now she really needed to find out as soon as possible.

oOoOoOoOo

Bonus:

“Who— Tim, who is this and why are you bringing her here while you and Jason are still in full costume sans the masks? Since when has either of you used the front door anyway. I know very well you two are part of the family that literally cannot use front doors to save their life because crawling in through a window does not give you time to reflect on your bad life choices and make you want to turn away as fast. And what is this tiny child doing here in the first place?”

Tim smiles brightly at Bruce who is in the Batsuit for some reason. Why was he inside the manor in the Batsuit to begin with? He has absolutely no right to nag about it to him. Absolutely none. “Do introduce yourself to him,” he says to the tiny girl (that is not that tiny compared to him but he’s just happy she’s still shorter than him) in front of him while still keeping a hand on her shoulder like a proud big brother showing his sister around or a parent showing his child around. It’s a bit weird to be honest but Tim can’t find it in himself to mind too much right now. It’s too much fun being able to mess with Bruce without actually messing with him.

“Hello Monsieur Wayne—” Bruce gapes at her and it’s so much fun to see, “—I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the only daughter of the best bakers in my Paris, as well as the superhero of my Paris. I’m also from an alternate universe where this world is a fictional verse and that kinda has me knowing everyone’s identities. It’s nice to meet you.”

Tim laughs — actually, genuinely laughs and he can hear people falling over inside the manor before hurrying to them and looking at him like he’s sick. It makes him laugh even more. He pushes everyone aside and drags Marinette inside, waiting for Jason to follow him. He does, eventually.

“So. Hey Bruce, here’s a ‘tiny and young Tim Drake comes in for the first time without his parents and with an older Bat’ - situation all over again for you, except this time there’s no older dead Bat that has her here and it’s, in fact, the older Bats who want her in. Jason and I like her, let’s adopt her. She even fits the black hair-blue eyes - theme your kids seem to mostly have going on. She’s even a superhero and knows all our identities, she’s a great addition to the family. If you won’t take her in, I’m going to do that myself—” because regardless of the fact he was not old enough, money could do hell of a lot things in this city,  “—and she’ll still come over here because then she’s family. Or, we could get Jason to adopt her and then you’ll want to take them both here because you’re not sure if you can trust either of them enough. Your pick.”

The flabbergasted expression painted on Bruce’s face that could be seen even with the cowl was totally worth all of this. It took a lot to not laugh at Bruce’s expression after Tim’s analysis. Jason did not possess that strength, it seemed, because he did burst out laughing at Bruce.

“Fine. We’re sending her back as soon as possible, though.”

In the end, they did not end up sending her back as soon as possible and figured out a way for her to come by whenever she wanted, and for them to go to her world to meet her when they felt like it.

(None of them had been able to avoid falling in love with the sweet girl and deciding she was a part of the family, their daughter or sister.)

______

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life

[pineapple-qween]

Super Twins!

Relationship: Batfam x Reader

Summary: Twins with strangely incompatible powers are spotted in Gotham and we all know what happens with Bruce and orphans.

Key: Y/N= your name, N/N= nickname

—————————————-

So there I was, minding my own business, flying through the lovely night air when a flipping boy ran into me. Or I guess flipped into me.

I can most defiantly say that he was just as surprised as I was as expressed in his eloquent, “What the hell,” as he returned to the world below me.

As much as I wanted to float there and laugh at the flipping boy, who was effectively getting himself back on course on the roof tops below, Clayton was waiting for me at the park and I couldn’t let him down again.

I guess I should tell you about myself.

Clayton is my twin brother, older only by 3 minutes which he loves to hold over me. And if you couldn’t tell, me and my brother have superpowers. I got the cooler power, I can control the air, but Clayton probably got the more practical power, he can control the ground. Our mother quickly abandoned us when she figured that out, because a baby that can float and one that can disappear into the ground? Yeah, easy to put us up for adoption. After six years of foster homes and orphanages, everyone got sick of the two of us and they planned on separating us, so we tunneled out. Clayton took me and we began roaming from city to city, staying alive and staying together for the past 10 years.

By the time I got to the park, I saw Clayton waiting next to one of those statues that I guess is modern art, but looks like a hockey stick with picture frames hot glued on, I digress.

“Y/N! I was starting to get worried about your dumbass.” Clayton grabbed my arm as I finished my descent and pulled me towards the middle of the park. “Gotham isn’t Central City, it’s way more dangerous! You could get shot or something.”

“As I fly through the air?” I gave him a snarky smile and he slapped my arm.

“Remember what I told you about Batman before we left? I heard that he flies and so do his partners. They could catch you and do who knows what.” He started to open the tunnel to the cavern where we would be staying before we moved to our next destination.

“I think I scared them more than they could scare me,” I scoffed thinking back to the flipping boy.

Clayton halted in his tracks, spun around and grabbed my shoulders. “You SAW one?”

Slightly uncomfortable I said, “Yeah, there was a guy who flipped into me and as he fell onto a roof top he said something like ‘That damn’, but I guess that could’ve been ‘Batman’,” I shrugged. “He couldn’t have gotten a good look at me and there’s no way he could’ve followed me.”

I was wrong.

Clayton and I heard the sound of a car screeching to a halt, as we turned to look at the source, a small boy, with what I guessed were katanas, flipped in front of us with swords pointed in our faces.

“Identify yourselves,” he yelled.

Before I could ask if his mom knew he was out past his bedtime, I recognized the taller boy behind him.

“Flippy boy? How did you find me?”

Clayton looked at me then to flippy boy and smacked his forehead. “You idiot...That’s Nightwing.”

“Who?”

The little boy scoffed. With a devious smirk on his face, he asked, “You don’t know Nightwing? Ha! Did you hear that Red Hood?”

A voice from behind me let out a low, but loud chuckle. “Yeah, I heard, demon.” The man walked around us to join the other two. “How’s that feel flippy boy?”

Flippy boy, or I guess Nightwing, let out an annoyed groan, “Come on man! B will be here in a minute. Can you just let it go until we get home?”

When the three began to bicker, I noticed Clayton giving me that sideways glance, the same one he gave me when we had to ditch the Flash a year or two ago. I grabbed his hand and slowly we began to slip into the earth.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep, gravely voice advised.

Barely shin deep in the ground, my brother quickly shot us back to the top and we tensed up, afraid to turn and find the one person we knew wouldn’t let us go so easy.

Batman, THE Batman, walked between us and, with one look, stopped the bickering match those boys had gotten into. “Now,” he faced us and his look made my hairs stand on end, “Who are you two? And no lies. I don’t have the patience for it.”

Clayton looked at me and I nodded.

“I’m David and this is my sister Ellen, we’re just passing through. We’re on our way to visit our aunt in Maine.” The lie was easy. Clayton had said it only a million times, but this time...he almost seemed unsure.

The look on Batman’s face didn’t change. I couldn’t help but feel like he was reading our entire lives while we just stood there. Then finally, “I said no lies.”

Clayton began, “I’m not-”

“My name’s Y/N and this is my brother Clayton. We’re orphans. We’ll be out of Gotham by Friday,” Clayton smacked my arm and looked at me incredulously, “What! He wasn’t gonna just let it go. Right?”

Red Hood laughed, “She’s right.”

“Orphan’s, huh,” Nightwing shifted uncomfortably, “B shouldn’t we, you know... help them?”

Batman seemed to ignore him. “And you two have superpowers?”

Clayton sighed dejectedly, “Yeah. She’s air. I’m earth.”

The smaller boy sneered, “Air? Earth? Tt-tt That sounds stupid.”

I scoffed, “It’s not like you have any superpowers. Do you, kid?”

I watched as a blush quickly spread across his face as Red Hood began cracking up. “No! But...but....”

“That’s what I thought,” I stuck my tongue out at him and turned back to Batman, which sort of ruined my moment. “How did you find us anyway?”

“Nightwing called out his location after his encounter with you in the sky, he tailed you best he could until we could catch up in the Batmobile. Then we just projected your trajectory to the park and found the fastest route.”

“Oh.” I was still confused.

“They followed you until they realized you were going to the park,” Clayton simplified.

“Ah.”

Batman return to his silent staring. Clayton’s grip on my hand tightened. I knew what he wanted me to do, but I was afraid. I was afraid of what Batman might do to us, but I couldn’t let my brother down. In that moment, I could feel every particle in the air that surrounded us and I told them to spin, fast. As we stood there, the wind picked up speed.

Nightwing gasped, “What’s happening!”

Before anyone could answer, the wind became a miniature tornado and I could feel the familiar sensation in my gut as I was losing energy, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it much longer. Clayton started to drag us under, knowing I would only be able to keep up the storm while I was surrounded by the air, he made quick work of getting us under the earth.

Once we made it to our hide out, Clayton let me collapse onto the ground. He slipped off his shoes and took a minute to feel the vibrations of the surface world. “They’re still up there. I think the kid is stabbing the ground where we sank.”

I tried to catch my breath, “Buh-Batman. He won’t just let us...go.”

“I know.”

“We can’t stay under...forever.”

“I know.” I could hear the exasperation in his voice.

“What...are we gonna...do?”

“I don’t know yet! Let me think.” Clayton’s face scrunched up the way it always did when he was planning his underground adventures. I could see how aggressively he was processing the information he was getting from the surface through his feet. “They got in the Batmobile, I can feel the way the car is going, but not for long. We should follow it.”

“What! Why in the world would we do that?”

“Stay right under their noses, and then I’d always be able to keep tabs on them. Come on. You know what we need to do.”

I groaned and got to my feet. “Yeah, yeah. Hop on.” Clayton got onto my back. “Damn, you way a ton.”

“Shut up and let’s go!” He opened the tunnel and I began to speed us along the path of the Batmobile.

After at least a solid day underground, I got hungry. 

“Clayyyy! Come on! I’m starving, let’s surface, please!”

“N/N, stop it! If you ask one more time, I will fight you.”

“But...CLAYTON! I’m hungry!” I dramatically clutched my stomach and flopped onto the ground, writhing around for a minute before:

“FINE! Let me check the surface before we just waltz up into where ever Batman goes when he’s not in the city.” Clayton took off his shoes and began to sense the surface.

“Wait, we aren’t in the city anymore? Where are we?”

“Shh!” He stood there for a moment. “We’re under some kind of cave, which you know messes with my senses. I can sense bats, but I don’t know if any people are above us.”

I shoved him aside and grabbed his hand, “I do not care. I’m hungry and I will begin to eat you if I don’t get food in the next minute. So let’s go!”

Clayton sighed and we began our ascent to the surface.

And where we appeared, I think everyone was confused.

Clayton and I suddenly appeared in what I would have thought to be a meeting. Only the things was...this wasn’t any ordinary cave and they weren’t any ordinary people. Also who holds meetings in caves?

There sat a middle aged man with black hair and striking blues eyes, but his eyes weren’t what I was focused on. It was the Batman suit he was wearing that looked way too real. He sprung to his feet the minute we were fully surfaced. “How did you get in here?” Even his voice was too perfect to be an imitation.

The way Clayton’s hand went slack in mine clued me into the fact that I’d be the one doing the talking. So I started with the perfect opening, “Buh-Buh-Batman?”

“You two!” The words came from the young boy who had a liking for swords as he was holding one currently, and it was aimed at my face. His green eyes held this horrible hardness that a kid should never have.

“Uh, yeah. It’s us...again.” I shifted awkwardly, squeezing my brother’s hand in hopes he’d regain his words. “So...this is a nice cave you got here.” Which wasn’t wrong, it really was a cool cave, and I had stayed in a lot of caves so I should know. “Got a real nice...uh...ambiance to it.”

The cave looked less like a cave and more like a basement, if you had to make a comparison. It had a computer the size of a projector screen on one side and an entire armory on the other. Stairs wrapped into the rock and led up to an unknown location. There was a giant penny and even a T-Rex, if you could believe that! Sat at the table in front of us was the middle age man, the boy, two other younger men, a teenage boy, two teenage girls, a young woman, and an older gentleman in a nice suit. (It was a big table.) Beside the older man and the young woman, they all were in some sort of dark costume.

The teenage boy spoke to the man in the Batman suit, “Uh, do you know these guys?”

“We followed Y/N to the park the other day when she was meeting up with Clayton,” he nodded to my brother who was still limply staring at them.

The young woman took out a tablet. “The ones with the powers, right. Uh...here’s the body cam shots!” She showed what I assumed was a video to the rest of the table.

“You did that?” The blonde girl stared at me wide-eyed. “You created a tornado?”

I felt myself begin to blush. “Uh, yeah...I did.”

“Awesome...” She leaned back in her chair with a wonder filled expression on her face.

Batman marched over to where we were standing. “You never answered my question.”

“Right, how we got in here. Well...” I glanced at Clayton who seemed to finally be coming to his senses. “He’s probably the better one to tell you.”

Clayton basically explained how his powers work and how we tracked the Batmobile to the Batcave, what the rest of them called it, and how we were hiding out underground to hopefully avoid a confrontation like this.

“So...are you gonna kill us?” Clay pulled me closer, he always did that when he got protective.

Batman stared at us in shock for a minute before regaining his composure. “Kill you? God, no. We don’t kill.”

“Well...” the young man with a white streak in his hair began.

Batman sent him a glare. “We don’t kill.”

“Alright,” the man conceded.

“Oh thank god.” Clayton relaxed his grip on my arm. “So, what are you going to do with us?”

My stomach made a sound like a dying whale.

The older gentleman stood and walked over to us. “First,” he said with a British accent, “we will feed the both of you.”

The food was better then anything I have ever had in my life. Fresh pizza, bread sticks, and clean water. Clayton and I scarfed it down until we were full, something we hadn’t been in years.

“You’d think they’d never have eaten,” Damian, the green-eyed boy, scoffed.

“Well, we don’t really have money and places notice if more than a little food goes missing,” Clayton said as he ate his fifth bread stick.

Dick Grayson, or I guess Nightwing, asked,“So you two really go from city to city, doing what exactly?”

I took a break from chugging my water. “Running from social services. Two more years until they’re off our tail and we don’t have to worry about being separated anymore.” I started on my fourth slice of pizza.

Dick looked at Batman, who is none other than Bruce Wayne, with a weird sort of sad expression.

“But don’t worry! We got it under control, we’ve been doing this for ten years.” I gave him a lopsided smile. Dick’s sad expression deepened.

“Well, I understand what it’s like on the streets.” Jason, the man with the white streak, rustled my brother’s hair and sat down next to him.

Clayton flattened his hair, “You do?”

“I was on the street before Bruce took me under his wing to be Robin. He caught me stealing the wheels off the Batmobile.”

I busted out laughing. “You stole the Batmobile’s wheels! That’s amazing.”

Bruce was smirking, “Yes, but he didn’t get very far.”

They began telling us stories about themselves. How Dick became the first Robin. How Tim figured out who Batman was. The time when Stephanie basically forced herself into Batman vigilante gang. Why Jason calls Damian demon. Barbara’s stint as Batgirl and now her job as Oracle. The boys worked together to explain Casandra’s story, but she would just shake her head and laugh to herself. Alfred told stories about a younger Bruce.

Clayton and I sat and listened and laughed and, for the first time, I knew we both felt safe. Clayton made no effort to disappear and I didn’t want to fly away. 

By the time they seemed to run out of stories, I could feel the way my eye lids grew heavy and the yawns came more frequently. Bruce offered one of the rooms in his home for Clayton and I to stay in for the night. We hesitantly accepted, after ten years of sleeping on dirt and rocks, I almost was afraid to sleep on a real bed and enjoy it’s comforts, but Clayton was more accepting of the idea. Alfred lead us up the stairs that disappeared within the rocks and through a hole covered by a grandfather clock.

The house was not a house, but a gigantic mansion. Each room seemed to be bigger than the last and the hallways look like they went on for miles. The first floor of the manor was larger than any orphanage my brother and I had ever been in, and that wasn’t including the movie room and the kitchen. I would peak into rooms we passed, each one making me more in awe than the last. Once we reached the second floor, Alfred took us to an unoccupied bedroom.

“My apologies, this is the only room currently available. If you wish to stay longer with us, I will gladly empty out one of the rooms being used for storage.” Alfred gestured for us to enter. “If you need anything else, please let me know. The bathroom is the first door on the right, the closet is the second one and has spare blankets if you need them. Have a good night.” He closed the door behind him, but we didn’t move.

The room was probably three times bigger than any room we’ve ever stayed in and we’ve always been forced to share a room so they always felt smaller, but this room was amazing. The far wall was just windows over looking an enormous garden. The bed was queen sized at least and covered in the softest looking comforter I had ever seen. Clayton was the first one of us to move, and he made his way to the bathroom.

“Y/N, there’s a full sized bathtub and a shower in here.”

I made my way over to the bed, sat down, and stared out the window. The mattress’s softness welcomed me to lay down. “This bed is so comfortable.”

Clayton joined me on the bed. “Did you hear what Alfred said?”

“About staying longer? Yeah.” I thought about it for a moment. “It’s too good to be true, right?”

“Gotta be.”

“No way a man like Bruce Wayne would want two super powered street rats, right?”

Clayton yawned, “No way.”

I listen to him turn and settle into a comfortable position. “This is too good to last, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm...”

I heard Clayton’s breathing settle into a rhythm and I knew he was asleep. I tried to get comfortable too, but the worries filled my head. I laid there and stared out over the garden, afraid that when I woke up, we would be back underground and this was all a dream.

I wandered out of the room and down the stairs. I made my way to the back of the house and found myself in the gardens. I walked around before I found a nice bench in front of a fountain. Lost in thought while staring into the water, I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching where I was sitting.

“May I join you?”

I jumped three feet high, literally, but then returned to the ground when I realized it was Bruce.

A blush radiated across my face, “Mr. Wayne, sorry. You startled me.”

He chuckled then gestured to the bench, “Care to sit?”

I nodded and we sat together. We sat in a comfortable silence for what felt like forever before he spoke up again. “Can I ask why you’re sitting out here and not asleep?”

“Uh...I don’t know. Not tired, I guess.” I felt the skeptical stare burn into my skin. I sighed, “It’s too good to be true.”

“What is?”

I gestured to the manor behind me then the garden around me. “All of this,” I limply gestured to Bruce, “You. Your kindness.” I could feel my throat getting tighter and the burning behind my eyes. I let my head fall and my hair cover my face, so he couldn’t see my weakness. First lesson you learn as a street kid, show no weakness.

Again we sat in silence until Bruce broke it. “I can say I don’t know what it is like to live day to day. Without someone who cares about your well being-”

“Clayton cares about me,” I snapped. The tears spilled down my cheeks as I glare at him.

“Right, sorry. I meant an adult who can actively provide for both of you.”

I scoffed, “Adults don’t know how to care, all they want is the government paycheck they can get by doing nothing.” I saw his expression, a mix of hurt and sadness. I felt my own face soften, “I’m sorry Mr. Wayne. I don’t mean to take this out on you.”

He gave me a sad smile, “Please, call me Bruce. And I understand. While I’ve never been in your situation, you’ve heard the stories my kids told you. I want to help.”

“You wouldn’t want Clayton and me. We aren’t worth the trouble, especially since we’ll be on our own in two years anyway. We can take care of ourselves until then.”

“But what if you didn’t have too?”

“What do you mean?”

Bruce chuckled softly then looked me in the eyes, “I would like for you to join our family. It’s not perfect by any means, but we all look out for one another. You wouldn’t have to keep moving around and you and your brother wouldn’t have to worry about being separated.”

I stared deadpanned at him. Bruce Wayne had asked me if I wanted to join his family. I waited for the “just kidding!” or the “I can’t believe you fell for that!” but it never came.

“You- you’re serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“No strings?”

“Only that you occasionally help out on patrols, your guys’ powers could be really helpful.”

“I’ll- I’ll have to ask Clay...”

Bruce patted me on the shoulder, “No need to make a decision tonight. Go get some rest, we’ll talk more tomorrow.” And with that he stood up, gave me a soft smile, and walked back towards the manor.

[bats-birds-n-butlers]

1. The grime under your boots

AN: look i know this is gonna be a bit jarring since theres like, no familiar names in the first few parasbut pls trust me on this one. Welcome to Batfam Inheritance AU ~Leo

Lene forgot to bring her umbrella. Again.

She was tired of waiting for the rain to slow. She was tired of being reminded that the library was closing soon. She was tired of watching snails slither with a kind of cautious intelligence that seemed as if they were going to steal your wallet when you weren’t looking. As the warm glow of the library dulled and extinguished, Lene felt a sudden tremor up her spine from the cold. Another bolt of lightning sliced across the blanket of black cloud, and the roar of a hunting tiger chased after it.

“ ‘Scuse me, are you all right?” a woodsy voice murmured.

Lene started, then slowly peered up at the lanky teen boy holding out his dripping umbrella away from them. What was his name? Wong? Gareth Wong? That guy in school who raps to himself because everyone learnt to ignore him?

“Oh, um, I’m alright, thanks,” her eyes fell to the concrete again. Odd, she didn’t think weirdo rich kid Gareth Wong would catch her cowering in the shelter of a library building.

Gareth dropped a lopsided smile right on her shoes. “Ahh, your’re Magdalene Johnson, right? If you don’t have an umbrella or don’t feel safe walking around now I can walk you home.”

Lene’s eyebrows drew together automatically. “Uh, its fine. The roof is leaky anyways. It would be no better than if I walked around without an umbrella.”

“Oh my God, I- a leaky roof? It’s all right! You can stay over at my house for the mean time. I hope the roof  can get fixed soon.”

“No, really, its fine…” Lene felt her eyes welling up. Stupid Wong, stupid rain, stupid Lene.

“You could catch a cold though! OK, hold on. Lemme call my brother.”

Lene bit the sleeves of her thin cardigan to keep from whimpering. She could hear some tapping noises, then, “Yo, Damian, there’s a classmate here who doesn’t have an umbrella and has a leaky roof. You think she can stay over a while until the rain stops?”

A brief pause. “I’ve got an umbrella though, I can walk her. Wait- what, no she’s not my girlfriend I just ran into her just now! ….Hmm sure, I’m at Gotham’s central  library. Thanks, bro.”

A warm hand hovered over her shoulders unsteadily. “See, so my big bro Damian’s picking us up in about a couple of minutes, don’t worry, yeah?”

Lene let a small growl loose from her teeth. “Sure sure, Big Bucks. This is embarrassing as hell, I hope you know that.”

Surprisingly, Gareth Wong laughed. “Not to worry, being youngest of the Wayne adopted household means being at the receiving end of most of the ridiculous pranks. Did I tell you about that time Tim stuck gum under all of my shoes? You probably heard all those weird squeaking sounds from me two weeks ago. I only found out last night, haha.”

Lene lifted her head a slight bit. Gareth raised his eyebrows in a grin. “Not the worst though, but Tim’s the most subtle at pranking and I’m the slowest to figure that kind of stuff out.”

“Your family seems fun.”

“Sure, I guess. Most you gotta fear is a grandpa with a Bri’ish accent chewing you out on using the dishwasher to heat up leftovers.  But it’s a lot of fun, I promise.”

An abrupt honk. A sleek Mercedes poised on the grimy streets of central Gotham like it was on a runway.

“That’s Damian. Come on, now, you can’t be stuck here forever.”

Lene took a deep breath, forced herself to swallow her remaining tears, and hurried under Gareth’s umbrella to the alien-like first-class car.

-

“Hmm,” A leonine man surveyed Lene from the driver’s seat.

“Oh yeah, Damian, this is Magdelene Johnson-”

“Lene is fine-”

“Sure, Lene. And this is Damian. Don’t worry, he might look scary but he’s really just thinking about whether we should adopt a pet chimpanzee.”

THE Damian Wayne raised an eyebrow. “I much prefer the idea of a coyote, you know. This isn’t really the best climate for chimpanzees. Nice to meet you, Lene. Gareth never shuts up about your writing skills.”

Lene was only vaguely aware of her mouth being left slightly ajar when Gareth rebutted, “You’ve never seen her essays, have you? They’re competition standard!”

“I- uh no, I’ve just been reading a lot-”

“Don’t downplay yourself, Lene-”

“OK, enough harassment. if I end up in a car accident with Two-Face it’s Gareth’s fault.”

“OK but legit though, why didn’t you enter the National Writer’s Challenge? My essay didn’t make the cut from Mrs Roth.”

“Because I was trying not to fail math?”

“Oh, I can also help out with math if you’d like. Straight As my whole life, entered and won the New Jersey Math Olympiad 2nd place.”

Lene’s eyes drooped from the crying done moments ago. At least being in a car was much better than returning to the abandoned lot she hid in in the nights. She shuddered. “You guys sure about letting me in tonight?”

Damian’s smooth voice cut over Gareth’s eager babble of words. “Absolutely. The Wayne household is always there for those in need.”

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

Title: from dust, arisen Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne (also ft. Dick Grayson and Tim Drake) Summary: When Jason is fifteen, he almost dies. Now, he grapples with the life he still has. (Jason Lives AU) (ao3)

I...got tired of opening this periodically from my incomplete Google docs over the past two years so...here we go. Will (maybe, hopefully) turn into a series of vignettes. Timeline is intended to make as much sense as possible but...comics. 

When Jason is fifteen, he almost dies. It takes half a year to recover fully, his breath rattling against broken ribs and raw throat. He was protected, mostly, from the blast and has only minor burns, but his right arm is broken and so is his left leg, his shoulder dislocated, he needs stitches in multiple places, and he’s covered in bruises. He has a concussion, too, but he’s alive, and he almost wasn’t.

He’s confined to his bed for weeks. Bruce and Alfred hover. Dick’s there sometimes too. He feels suffocated, near the end, but mostly he’s too exhausted to care.

When he starts getting bored and antsy, Dick brings over video games and movies and little 5lb weights.

“I can only use my one arm,” Jason tells him mournfully. “The right one is already smaller. I can feel it.”

Dick makes a face at him as he wiggles the fingers on his left hand. Says, “Well it’ll just have some catching up to do when you get that cast off.”

“And 5lbs are for babies,” Jason adds.

“Guess you’re a baby,” Dick says and sticks his tongue out him.

Neither mention he’s still sore enough that he can’t lift even the 5lb weight for very long.

But he can handle a control with his cast, so Dick tosses him one and they race cars and beat up bad guys and aliens and shoot terrorists. Dick even, Jason swears to God, brings him over some dumb as shit Harvest Moon game.

“For when I’m not here,” Dick tells him. Because when he’s not here Jason reads a lot, but there’s only so much you can read, and he alternates between being restless, bored beyond imagining, and, well, kind of depressed.

(Jason beats it and saves his damn stupid farm three times before his bed rest is over; his cows love him.)

Mostly Jason is just glad Dick isn’t looking at him like he might still drop dead at any minute, all furrowed eyebrows and blank faced like Bruce or downturned, concerned lips like Alfred. Dick laughs and jostles Jason’s shoulder, gentler than he would ordinarily, but at least he knows Jason isn’t going to fucking break.

Jason gathers that Dick is staying at the Manor again but he’s still fighting with Bruce. They rarely visit Jason at the same time, and when one comes in, the other gets all tight and excuses himself after a few minutes. Jason suspects they’re fighting about him.

He doesn’t ask. Dick doesn’t say anything.

They don’t talk about what happened.

********

Jason begs Bruce to let him back in the field for a month. He gives it some time, after he’s up and about, goes to his physical therapy when his casts come off, but Bruce still says no. No. Flat. That’s it.

Jason trains harder. He knows he’s not 100%. He knows he’s chubbier, slower, that he’s out of practice.

He knows Bruce doesn’t trust him anymore.  Not after…

It only takes a month for him to get fed up with being left behind. He sits in the Cave as Batman leaves, pretending to look at the notes of the case Bruce has left him. A consolation prize, he rolls his eyes. Something shiny to distract him.

He waits a half an hour, and then gets ready. He realizes, quickly, that he doesn’t actually have a Robin suit anymore. He flinches, thinking about fabric being ripped from deep wounds, from its tattered remains Bruce didn’t know he’d seen.

He shakes his head and regroups. There’s always one of Dick’s old costumes. Jason’s…not sure he’ll fit in any. His weight has fluctuated so much over the past several months, as he weaned himself off pain meds, got his appetite back, sat around unable to do anything, threw himself back into his work-outs as soon as he could, got told off for working too hard when he was still in recovery.

Besides, Dick has always been slender. At fifteen, Jason isn’t done growing, but he’s already almost as tall as Dick and a little broader.

He could always go out in his civvies and a mask, but—

--the Joker can’t take Robin from him.

Batman actually falters when he sees Robin. Almost gets hit in the jaw for it, but recovers in time to duck. Jason jumps. They’re only some low level thugs. Small fry. He could have been helping all along.

He tells Batman so. Batman just looks at him for a long time. Long enough Jason wants to fidget, but he doesn’t. He holds his head up, clenches his jaw. Defiant. He can wait out Bruce.

Batman turns and walks away. But he doesn’t tell Jason to go home. Jason follows.

He guesses it’s a start.

********

“He’s stuck in that moment where he almost didn’t get to you in time,” Dick tells him seriously.

He’s come to Dick’s apartment because Batman is suffocating him. He swoops in when Robin doesn’t need him to, nearly breaks the jaws of thugs who so much as say the wrong thing to Robin, follows him too closely. Jason’s going to go insane.

He’s turning sixteen tomorrow. He almost didn’t make it.

Dick shakes his head. “You know how he doesn’t let go of things. I think part of him is going to live in that moment forever.”

Jason’s learned about watershed events. He wonders if Ethiopia is theirs. His and Bruce’s.

“Why are you packing?” he asks abruptly, because he’s interrupted Dick. “Are you moving back home?”

Dick looks guilty, fiddles with the shirt he’s holding bunched up in his hands. “Not exactly. I’m going back to New York.”

To the Titans.

“Why?”

Dick shrugs. “It’s time,” he says. “And I’m failing anyway. Waste of time to stick it out.”

“You’re smart,” Jason snaps. “Fuck, Dick, you’re a detective. How are you failing?”

Dick gives Jason a look. A little surprised at his venom. Jason is too. Finally, he says, “Not all of us our cut out for the college life, kid. Maybe I’m squandering an opportunity I’m lucky to have. But I can’t sit in class all day and not focus on a case I’m working. Or fall asleep because I was out late the night before and was only able to half-ass my homework in an all-nighter.”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he won’t look at Dick either.

Dick adds, “Anyway, Bruce is driving me crazy, too. Need some space.”

“You didn’t have to come back,” Jason says hotly. His face feels hot, too, and tight.

Dick reaches out and touches his shoulder. “You know,” he says, thoughtfully, when Jason looks up at him. “It’s not really the Titans if there isn’t a Robin on the team.”

********

Jason turns sixteen and Alfred bakes a cake and Dick comes over because he hasn’t left yet (because he maybe kind of sort of hasn’t told Bruce he’s dropping out yet either) and Bruce is looking at Jason in a way that he never has before (at least not where Jason can see) and Jason feels warm for the first time since Ethiopia.

********

He has to repeat tenth grade. Alfred suggests, gently, homeschooling for the year, but Jason’s missed enough time.

******** “I didn’t die, Bruce!” They’re on opposite sides of the living room from each other and Jason is yelling, his fists clenched, his face splotchy red. 

They’ve been going at it for a while, the room hot and Jason hot, when he finally says it.

Bruce draws up short, and the room chills, and Jason suddenly feels deflated. He clenches his fists, adds quieter, “Stop acting like it.”

Jason doesn’t give him a chance to walk away first. He storms up the stairs to his room. He packs a backpack and leaves through the window. He takes the motorcycle and makes it to New York before morning.

Dick doesn’t ask, but his mouth tightens. He feeds Jason leftover pizza and lets him sleep in his bed. Jason snags a few hours, but he wakes to Dick’s hushed, tense voice speaking into a phone.

“No I don’t—obviously—well, I--,”

He gets up and pads over to where Dick’s hunched over on the couch, throws himself on the ground, leans back on his hands and looks up. Laughs a little to himself at Bruce being the one to do enough talking that Dick can barely get a word in edgewise.

Dick looks up and gives him a stressed little half smile. Mouths Bruce, as if Jason doesn’t know. Jason rolls his eyes to tell him obviously. Dick holds out the phone questioningly, and Jason shakes his head. He doesn’t feel as angry and restless as he did earlier, but he’s not ready to talk to Bruce just yet.

“Sorry, B, he’s still asleep. Yeah, we’ll just hit the City some tomorrow. He’s fine, I promise,” Dick sounds a little annoyed. “Go to bed, I’ll call later.”

Jason kicks Dick’s ankle in thanks and feels a little bad about how exhausted he looks. No one else is here, not even Kory, and Jason wonders if he really interrupted Dick in anything important. A local case or something.

Dick just raises his eyebrows at him. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck, no,” Jason says because he knows Dick won’t reprimand him for his language, like Alfred. And also because he really, really doesn’t.

Dick shrugs. “I’m going to bed then,” he says. He stands up and stretches.  Adds, “You should get some more sleep. I’ll take Kory’s room.”

Dick’s as good as his word to Bruce, and he takes Jason sightseeing in New York. They do the standard tourist things—see the Rockerfeller, the Plaza Hotel, the Brooklyn Bridge. They rent bikes and ride around Central Park. They sit on a bench and eat ice cream and look out at across the water at the Statue of Liberty.

(Jason turns down going to Ellis Island. He’s had enough family history to last a lifetime.)

Dick buys him bagels and pizza and soda and presses cash into the hands of the homeless they pass. He stops and talks sometimes, and Jason watches him. Envies how charming he is, how easy it all seems to come to him. Jason’s sixteen, and he’s not uncool, but he’ll never be Dick Grayson.

They go out into the city that night, as Nightwing and Robin.

The New York skyline is different from Gotham. It’s not their city.

Jason goes back to the Tower early. “So,” Dick says, mid-morning Sunday, over breakfast. Jason’s actually a little impressed with his scrambled eggs; they’re not Alfred level, but they’re pretty decent. “So,” Jason says back because he feels like Dick is evaluating him. Searching him for something. “So,” Dick repeats, rolling his eyes. “You can stay here as long as you want, you know--,” “But,” Jason prompts. “But,” Dick agrees, “I think you should give Bruce a call.” “I’m gonna go back today,” Jason says. He pushes his empty plate away, runs a hand through his hair. “I just needed some space.” Dick smiles sympathetically. “I get it,” he says, Jason tries not to let himself get pissed off because he knows Dick does, knows he and Bruce have spent too many years fighting for Dick to not get it but- -but he didn’t almost die. Because he’s fucking perfect. He didn’t screw up like Jason did. He doesn’t have Bruce breathing down his neck because he can’t trust him. Jason doesn’t say any of that, but somehow, Dick reads it on his face. He leans forward and Jason resists the urge to lean back. “Remember what I said before?” he asks. “About letting go?” Jason nods. Dick’s not helping. “Sometimes, and I know I’m a hypocrite for saying this, but sometimes, you do too.” Jason gets home after Bruce has gone on patrol. He lets Alfred feed him dinner, does a few rounds with a punching bag, showers, and goes to sleep. He wakes up in the dark, red numbers on his clock flashing 4am, a hand brushing the hair out of his face. He almost flinches away, but some part of his brain recognizes that it’s just Bruce and he relaxes. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Bruce says, his voice a rough whisper. “’Sokay,” Jason says. He shifts, sits up a little, blinks blearily at Bruce. The fight from Friday lays between them. Bruce doesn’t apologize, but he pulls Jason into a  hug, holds him close. Jason doesn’t apologize, but he snakes his arms around Bruce and squeezes back.

********

He notices the Drake kid tailing Batman and Robin, snapping pictures of them, before Bruce does. He doesn’t see the kid every night, but when he does, he makes sure to do an extra special kick or flip just right or pause a little longer. It’s not posing exactly, but it’s nice to be appreciated. (And Jason won’t lie, he likes the attention.) Also  he’s a little curious to see how long it’ll take Batman to notice. Wonders if he already does and is ignoring it for some reason. It’s not like the kid ever lingers for long or isn’t as sneaky as possible, but Batman is, well, Batman. Jason finally gets a chance to talk to him about a month after he first starts noticing him. Jason’s by himself because, after their fight, he and Bruce are trying this new thing where Bruce lets him go off solo. At least a little bit. Because Jason’s sixteen now and not a kid and he’s not going to— The kid is startled when Robin drops down in front of him. He stumbles and Jason has to reach out to keep him from falling. “So what?” Jason asks. “Journalism class? You the next photographer for the Gazette?” The kid flushes and says “Oh my God” and “I’m sorry” and “Do you think he’ll be mad?” He’s stuttering over his words, and Jason finally takes pity. Says, “Chill out, I don’t care.” He sits down, swings his legs over the edge of the building, leans back on his hands and looks up at the kid. “Your parents know you’re out here?” He hesitates, then admits, “They’re out of town.” “Oh,” Jason says. He gets it. “Just for work,” the kid adds defensively. “They’ll be back.” Jason digs around in his belt and offers the kid a granola bar. He hesitates then takes it. After another moment, he sits down too, away from the edge. Jason leans back on his hands and looks at him, appreciates his mask lets him study without coming off as creepy. Kid’s scrawny, shivering in an overpriced jacket, can’t be older than 13, a giant ass camera hanging around his neck. He breaks the granola bar in half and offers the bigger one to Jason, who takes it. “What’s your name?” Jason asks finally. “Tim,” he says back. Glances up quickly, then back down. Back up again and blurts, “I’m glad you’re back. I wasn’t sure you would be.” Jason doesn’t say me too or me neither, but he wants to.   “You look familiar,” Jason says. “Have we saved you before or something? That why you president of the fan club?” “No,” Tim says absently. “But I’ve been to some galas at Wayne Manor.” There’s a pause where Tim’s eyes widen and Jason stiffens. Then Tim scrambles to his feet saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and Jason leaps up and grabs his arm, demanding, “Who are you and what do you know?” They both still and Tim draws in a deep breath. He lets it out and Jason notices he doesn’t look scared. Nervous, maybe, a little, but not scared. He says, “I figured it out. Who Batman is. A few years back. Well,” he backtracks, “I figured out who the first Robin was and then…everything fell into place.” Jason doesn’t admit he’s a little impressed. He lets go of Tim, sure he isn’t a threat and won’t run. Asks, still a little suspicious, “How’d you do that?” Tim gets this little half-smile on his face and he says, “The quadruple somersault.” “Yeah?” Jason asks. “How’d you make the connection?” “I watched two of the only three people who could do it die,” Tim says. Jason does some quick mental math and says, “No way in hell you remember that.” Tim huffs. “Well, I do,” he snaps. “It was one of the best days of my life. I was with my parents and they managed to let me meet up with the Flying Graysons before the show. They took a picture with me. I didn’t forget.” They’re quiet for a long moment. The moon is almost directly overhead, bright and full. “Are you going to tell him?” Tim asks finally. He slides a glance sideways at Jason, who doesn’t know if he means Bruce or Dick. Jason shakes his head. “Not yet, at least.” “I should go home,” Tim says, but he’s looking down, scuffing his toe across the roof, so Jason says, “Yeah, me too.” They start to part ways, but Tim turn again. “I really am glad you’re back,” he tells Jason. “He was…different without you. It was kinda scary. Batman needs Robin.”

******** Jason can’t get that out of his head. “He was different…it was kinda scary.”  He turns the words around in his head over and over again, until he can’t sleep, thinking about it. He asks Alfred about it, after two days of thinking. Sidles up to him while he’s making sandwiches and soup for lunch. Bruce has to go in for a WE Board meeting (“On a Saturday?” Jason asked horrified and Bruce shrugged. “Guess it’s important. And I maybe missed it on Wednesday.” He winked and was gone.) He takes the knife without a word and starts to cut the sandwiches so Alfred can stir the soup. Tomato basil. “How was Bruce,” he asks abruptly, keeping his eyes focused on the sandwiches, “when I was hurt?” Jason hears the spoon stop stirring, can feel Alfred still next to him. A moment later, the spoon picks up again, slowly. It’s another moment before Alfred clears his throat and says, “He took it very hard. We all did.” “Oh,” Jason says. He keeps looking at the sandwiches even though he’s finished cutting them. He looks up when he feels Alfred’s hand on his shoulder. Alfred is looking at him with fondness and sadness and something else Jason doesn’t know what to call but it fills him up so much he feels tears pricking at his eyes. Alfred cups his face and his hands are warm and wrinkled and soft despite all the labor he’s put into this house over the decades. He says, his voice low with purpose, “You are very dear to him. To me. To Master Richard. I hope you know that.” Jason nods and Alfred lets his hand drop. Gives Jason’s shoulder a pat and says briskly, “Now let’s see about lunch.” He doesn’t ask Dick because he thinks Alfred has sugarcoated or lied to him. It’s only that, he has said very little and he loves Bruce differently than Jason does, the same way he loves Jason—they’re not blind spots, per se, but there’s some sense of duty, some sense of needing to protect. Dick is quiet for a long time when Jason asks over the phone. Jason starts to get antsy, wishing he had gone in person to see Dick, to ask. Finally, Dick answers, almost reluctantly, “He was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. I thought—for sure, I thought he’d—you know.” Jason does know, but it makes him furious Dick won’t even say the Joker’s name, won’t say what Bruce wouldn’t do. “He would have deserved it,” Jason says savagely and is surprised out of his anger when Dick agrees, quietly, “Yeah. He would have.” There’s a long pause and then Dick adds, “But it wasn’t just him. B was…it was to everybody. A petty thief same as the Big Bads. It was like—it was like he really did. Lose you. And I didn’t—I wasn’t enough, then.” “Oh,” Jason says.

********

Jason doesn’t see Tim again for a while, worries he scared the kid off. He stays true to word, doesn’t tell Dick or Bruce, but he does keep an eye out for him.

When he doesn’t see him as Robin, Jason starts looking for Tim in school. He isn’t actually sure they go to the same one, it can’t hurt to keep an eye out. He doesn’t see him around the high school classes, and, remembering how tiny the kid is, Jason slips into Gotham Academy’s lower school during lunch and spots him right away.

Tim flushes when he notices Jason zero in on him, but he keeps walking with his nerd friend, determinedly ignoring Jason. Jason doesn’t like being ignored. He saunters over and slings an arm around the kid’s shoulder.

Tim’s flush deepens, but he says, almost valiantly, “Uh, hi?” He waves his friend off when he looks concerned and then shoves his hands in his pocket, like he’s trying to make his tiny self even smaller. “Can I help you?”

“Just haven’t seen ya around in a while,” Jason says. He tugs Tim outside with him and adds, “Let’s have lunch.”

********

“Why are you spending so much time with the Drake boy?” Bruce asks one night. They’re in the Cave, still in tuxes from some charity thing Bruce has thrown. Alfred will be mad if he knows, but he’s upstairs, cleaning.

Jason shrugs. “Just a friend. He goes to my school. ‘Sides, everyone else at those things is boring.”

“Not me,” Bruce says and Jason yawns extravagantly. “Especially you.”

********

He wants to tell Dick first about Tim because it’s Dick who helped Tim figure it all out. When he calls to see if he can come up for a weekend visit, though, Dick is distracted, sounds off.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jason finally demands and Dick sighs. Says, “I’m leaving the Titans. I guess I’m moving back to Gotham for a bit.”

It’s good timing, Jason thinks, and immediately feels guilty. He tries not to feel giddy about Dick being back. Tries not to worry about Nightwing, who’s lost teammates and just sounds tired lately.

“To the Manor?” he asks and Dick says, “God no. At least, not permanently. I just…need some time.”

“I have a secret to tell you,” Jason says. “When you get back.”

“I don’t know if I like the sounds of that,” Dick says and actually laughs.

******** Dick takes to Tim right away and Jason tries to squash down any jealousy boiling up in him. It’s not Tim’s fault they’ve come into Dick’s life at different places.

******** Bruce finds out with Dick and Jason both playing mediator, but he seems more impressed than angry, a concerned furrow etching into his brow.

“His parents aren’t home a lot,” Jason tells him, as if Bruce hasn’t noticed the kid sitting in his kitchen, doing homework and eating Alfred’s cookies on a near-daily basis.

******** He watches Tim spar and they way he pores over notes Bruce leaves for him when Batman and Robin go out, and he calls Dick the next day. Asks, “How did you know?” He’s woken Dick up and all he gets is a muffled, “Whu?” “How did you know?” He repeats, more insistently. “How did you know when it was time to move on?” “From what?” Dick asks and Jason lets out a frustrated sigh. “From Robin, asshole,” he snaps. “How did you know?” “Oh,” Dick is quiet for a minute. Then, he says, “I think if you’re asking, you already know.”

********

Jason was fifteen when he almost died. He was fifteen when he took back Robin, sixteen when he and Bruce started figuring each other out again.

Jason is seventeen today, poised on the edge of growing up. He’s seventeen and he is giving Robin away. Tim’s hands tremble when he takes the proffered uniform.

“But it’s your birthday,” he blurts, and then, “Are you sure?”

Jason glances at Bruce, suddenly glad he’s run it by him the night before instead of letting it be a surprise. Bruce doesn’t smile exactly, but there’s something encouraging in his eyes, reassuring, and Jason says, “Sure I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You’re ready.” I’m ready.

“What will you do next?” Tim asks, voice softer, almost reverent as he gathers the Robin uniform close to himself.

Jason shrugs, but he’s grinning. “I have a few ideas.”

He does, too, scribbled down, sketched in a notebook. Because he is seventeen and he did not die and the world is open before him and he is ready for the world.

[quillsareswords]

Rooftop

Damian Wayne (fluff/angst)

Requested (anonymous)

Prompt List // Masterlist

   Your first encounter with the infamous vigilante had taken place at the top of a building. You had been sitting on the edge of the apartment complex your father owned, reading by the bright light of the full moon overhead. It was a surprisingly clear night, so you had decided to make the most of your rooftop access.

Robin’s first encounter with you had been on the roof of some apartment complex in the middle class of Gotham. He had been beginning his patrol with routine checks around a neighborhood, when he found a girl about his age perched at the edge of a building.

   When Robin came along on his patrol, he had startled you with a loud, “What are you doing?”

You turned around to see who it was, part of your fearing it might be someone looking for trouble. When you found someone you had never met personally before, but had seen on the news more times than you could count, you allowed yourself to relax just a little. You held up your book. “Reading, obviously,” you snarked.

   He released a silent breath, eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance. You didn’t seem to be up to anything remarkable, so he decided it best to ignore you and continue on his way. And after a quick check over the edge of the building, he did.

   Your second encounter with Robin had happened a few weeks later. You had just walked out of Barnes and Noble, new book in hand, when the sight across the street grabbed your attention. A building was on fire.

   Robin’s second encounter with the girl from the roof was brief. He had been barking orders to the fire department as he charged back into a burning building.

   He turned to look over his shoulder, to scold the head of the fire department when he caught your eyes instead.

   Your mouth hung slightly ajar, out of surprise. Your hand tightened around the plastic bag you held, when you caught the white lenses of Robin’s mask. You found yourself distantly wondering what color his eyes might be as you turned back down the sidewalk, wishing silent good will to whoever had been in the building.

   Your crossed paths with the masked hero once again, later that week. This time, you were walking down to the little convenience store on the corner. You were doing your best not to turn around and look at the owner of the heavy footsteps behind you. You had a plan, of course, but the plan didn’t involve looking at him.

   Robin found you again later in the week, as he was making his rounds. You were walking along the sidewalk at night, unaware of the tall, bulky man stalking behind you. He dropped into the alleyway a few steps ahead of the man.

   You spun around at the sound of a scuffle on instinct. The man who’s reflection you had caught in a window a few moments before was now gone, but you could hear something going on in he alley you had passed.

   A few moments ticked by, and suddenly Robin emerged. He closed the space between the two of you, standing only a few feet in front of you. You didn’t waver under his gaze. “Why would you walk around alone at this time of night?” he asked. “You would have been in a lot of trouble, had I not seen the man following you.”

   You narrowed your eyes at his accusation. “Firstly,” you snapped, “I have a switchblade in my pocket than I am more than capable of using, had it come to that. Secondly, I had a fine plan.”

   He didn’t ask what you plan was. It obviously would have been a weak and futile one anyway. “What is you name?” he sighed.

   “Why?”

   He rolled his eyes, even thought you couldn’t see. “I’ve seen you three times in the span of a month. I’m curious.“

   You crossed your arms. “It’s [Y/N]. Now I need a Snickers bar and a gallon of milk, if you’ll excuse me.” With that, you spun on your heel, and marched off toward the illuminated building.

   The fourth time you met, had again been on the roof of your father’s apartment complex. This time, you read your book by the light of a battery powered camping lantern. It was cloudy and a new moon, which made it the only light on the roof, which made you very easy to see.

   He had found you there, and approached you a little more loudly this time, so not to frighten you.

   You turned around at the sound of his boots striking the cement roof. You pulled out one earbud, allowing the quiet music to fight against the air to be heard.

   He came to stand next to you, staring down at the book in your lap, hands on his hips. “Alone at night again, are we?”

   You almost smiled. “I’m not really a people person,” you stated. “Besides, I’ve still got the switchblade.”

   He paused there, considering you carefully. You were sitting at the very edge of the building, Indian-style, with a book in your lap and a light at your side. You were still looking up at him. “What are you reading?”

   You marked your place and closed the book, holding it up for him to see. “H. G. Wells’ The Time Machine.”

    He took it from your hands and examined the cover. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered what else you’d read. He handed it back to you. “Interesting.”

   He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t quite ready to take off yet. So, he asked, “What are you listening to?”

   You paused, listening to he lyrics still playing through your remaining earbud. “Cleopatra by The Lumineers.”

   He bobbed his head, filing the name a way for later. A persons music taste says a lot about them.

   “What do you listen to?” you asked. It was actually something you had wondered about.

   Then, something on his belt lit up, and he lifted his hand to his ear. “Robin.” He paused, eyebrows knitted together, before speaking again. “Understood. I’m on my way.”

   You were admittedly confused by the disappointment you felt.

   He turned to leave, but stopped before he got very far. “Classical,” he finally answered your question, before shooting off a grappling hook and swinging to a building somewhere behind you.

   As days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, you began running into each other more and more often. Sometimes it was planned, sometimes it wasn’t. Your street had become one of the main routes he took every night he was on patrol. You had become close,and you were one of the few people he would consider a good friend. You had stopped going to the roof to read, and had started going to the roof to read while you wait for him.

   Somewhere in between exchanging music and book tastes and chattering about your days, feeling for one another began to bloom along with the winter flowers you mother grew in planters by the rooftop door.

   It had been a regular Thursday night. You’d told him all about the teacher you were sure had it out for you at Gotham Central, and you’d listened to him grumble about one of his brothers (none of which had names to you) deciding it was a good idea to test his patience.

   When his communicator went off, you adverted your eyes to the street below you. Thanksgiving was drawing near, so there were plenty of people out buying food and decorations and doing early Christmas shopping. You no longer listened to the conversations he held with whoever it was on the other end of the line. Sometimes it was Batman, sometimes an unnamed character he seemed to trust.

   “I’m sorry to cut this short,” he said quickly, practically scrambling to get up from the edge of the building, “but there’s an emergency-”

   “Yeah, of course. Go,” you gave him a forgiving smile, offering a wave as he rushed to the other side of the building.

   You watched him go, just as you did most nights he visited you.

   You weren’t sure what it was tonight, but something was wrong. Maybe the stars were out of line, or maybe there were a few too many cars on the road, but something had a uneasy feeling boiling in your chest.

   You decided to stay there a little longer. Maybe there would be a car accident, or something else to give you a reason to set off the little alarm stick in your pocket. A gift from Robin, or course. Anytime you triggered it, someone would be there, he’d assured you.

   Minutes ticked by slowly, dragging up and down your spine, leaving needle pricks of stiffness in their wake.

   You jumped when you heard it. A gunshot, loud and clear, tore through the air. You turned sharply when you heard it, followed closely by another. You knew it was coming from the direction Robin had gone. Someone started shouting, and three more fired off rapidly.

   You stood up and jogged to the other edge of the building. You didn’t know what to look for, with so many builds everywhere. Suddenly everything was silent. You strained your hearing, listening closely for anything, anything, that might indicate that he was hurt.

   You had dismissed your feelings for him as little more than a crush. It’d be gone in a month or two, you’d told yourself. But the shake in your breath and the fear twisting your stomach told you otherwise.

   You were being stupid, you told yourself. He’d be furious if he found out. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to turn back to the fire escape as you moved down the alley. The hood on your jacket was pulled up, and your hands were stuffed in your pockets, but you pace was anything but casual.

   Your eyes slid down the intersection of alleyways as you passed, hoping that nothing would be there. You made it to the street behind the apartment complex without finding so much as a trash bin, but the same could no be said for the alley beyond the builds across the street.

   You had planned to stop there. That was as far as you were willing to go on just a hunch.

   However, the universe had other plans.

   “Robin!” you all but screamed, bolting down the alley behind another apartment building. You slid dropped to your knees next to him, avoiding the puddle of blood pooling from under his side. You felt tears singing your eyes immediately, hands hovering above him. He wasn’t unconscious, and you knew, because the you you could see was wide open, staring at you with a level of panic that shook you to your core.

   Half of his mask was gone, torn off and laying on the ground off to the side. His suit was cut and torn in places along his arms and torso, smaller amounts of blood drizzling out of the minor wounds. You attention was drawn to the bullet wound torn through the side of his abdomen.

   You knew you’d said you wanted to see his eyes, but this certainly wasn’t how you pictured the moment.

   He reached out suddenly with a shaking hand, taking a tight hold of your wrist. Your heart was hammering so hard in your chest that you wondered if he could hear it over his own.

   “What do I do? What do I do?” you asked frantically, shifting in his grip until you were holding his hand. He shook his head and started coughing. You hadn’t known you could be any more panicked, until you realized he was coughing up blood.

   If your we shaking before, your body was experiencing an earthquake now. Your eyes skimmed over his body several times, trying to think of anything that was going to help.

   Finally, like a beacon of hope bursting through a dark fog, your gaze snagged on the communicator laying a good foot away.

   You released a shallow breath and jumped up, his weak grip on your wrist sliding off. As soon as you had it, you returned to his side and got back down on your knees. With one hand, you started putting as much pressure as you could on the wound.

   He groaned lowly, his face screwing up again in pain. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, fidgeting with the device you held in your other hand.

   You’d seen him use it enough times, and you had used enough walkie-talkies to know the basics of how to work it. You turned it on in a rush and pressed the panic button. For good measure, you dug out the trigger stick in you pocket and set it off. You released another breath when both the screen on the communicator and the light at the top of your trigger blinked red.

   Now you used both hands to apply pressure. The bleeding was slowing down, you could tell that much, but Robin’s breathing was becoming more labored than it had been.

   Your eyes flicked back up to his face. His eyes were still wild, but he seemed at least somewhat more relaxed. You met is intense stare and tried to smile for him through the tears in your eyes. “You’re gonna be okay,” you assured, trying to sound more sure than you were. “You’re gonna be fine.”

   You stared down at the bustling street, filled with people who were blissfully unaware of the girl watching them carry out their nightly activities. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, sitting parallel to the cement lip you sat on.

   You had been in the exact same spot for going on three weeks now, every single night. Even the ones you knew weren’t his nights.

   You hoped that maybe one of the other vigilantes would come. Maybe they’d tell you that he was okay, or maybe they would tell you he wasn’t. At this point, you decided, anything would be better than not knowing.

   “What are you doing?”

   You almost fell off the ledge when you heard him. You steadied yourself quickly, head whipping over to see if was really him. “Don’t you know how cold it is out here?”

   The grin stretching your cheeks rivaled the Grand Canyon in size as [E/C] eyes locked with white lenses. You leaped to your feet and sprinted across the roof. You would have knocked him over when you finally reached him, had he not caught you both as your arms wrapped around him. You were already fighting back tears, but your dams broke when his encircled your waist.

   You buried your face in his shoulder, hoping to muffle your words enough that he wouldn’t hear you. “I thought you were dead.”

   He let out a breathy chuckle, resting his cheek against the top of your head. “You have so little faith.”

   You laughed a little at that and finally pulled away, blind to his longing for your touch, but not to your own. You sniffled and looked him over. “How are you feeling?”

   “Alright, I suppose,” he rolled his head to the side and avoided your gaze, though for all you knew, he was still staring at you from the corner of his eyes. His next words were so quiet, they were almost lost to the wind. “Better, now that I’m here.”

   Your cheeks immediately flared with heat, and now you were certain that you weren’t suppose to hear that. You did your best to hide how flustered you now were, hoping to play off your red cheeks as a cause of the low temperature and the wind. “Glad to hear it.”

   He sighed deeply, straightening himself again to meet your eyes. You took his gaze head on. “That was extremely dangerous, [Y/N]. You shouldn’t have come looking for me.”

   Your fluster was dissipating fast now. You crossed your arms. “Well, it’s a good thing I did, or you might not be standing here.”

   “I’d have been fine-”

   “Really?” you challenged sharply, arms dropping to your sides, hands suddenly balled into fists, images of his bleeding body flickering through your mind. Fresh tears threatened to spill over, and they weren’t of joy. “Because the last time I saw you, Red Robin was dragging me back home while the other one was trying to keep you breathing!”

   You expected his temper to flare up, for him to get defensive. You’d seen it enough times, and you tried to avoid it, but you weren’t wrong. “I thought you were dying, Robin.”

   Instead, he took a step back and leaned against the door that lean back down into the building. He remembered. He was barely conscious at the time, but he remembered. If he thought about it hard enough he could still hear you muttering reassurances to him while you waited for help. He could still remember catching a glimpse of Tim doing all he could to get you out of the alley. He remembered seeing you race down the alley the moment you’d seen him, and he remembered the terror in your eyes. He remembered.

   He wasn’t about to admit it to you, he probably never would, but he, too, thought that night was going to be his last.

   He wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at your shoes. He had never been so unwilling to look someone in the eyes before. He knew you were crying, he didn’t need to look at you to know that. He could hear the strain in your voice.

   It took a few long moments, but he finally gathered the courage to speak. “How long have you been waiting?”

   To do what? For his return? To find out what it felt like to kiss him? To know who was hiding under that mask? To tell him how you felt? “Weeks.”

   He swallowed thickly. He could imagine you sitting on that ledge, night after night, waiting for him all alone in the cold air, with no comfort but the noisy street below you. Your parents wouldn’t have offered your any: you’d told him before that you didn’t want to tell them about your friendship, for fear that they wouldn’t let you see him anymore.

   Your book was nowhere to be seen, which meant you’d been up here with nothing to distract yourself.

   The thought left his chest with a dull ache and an anger at himself that he could barely manage. He should’ve sent one of his brothers to tell you that he was fine, and that you didn’t need to worry. He could have sent one of them to get you, bring you back to the cave so you could see him.

   Of course he had his brothers checking on you, but he’d never thought to have them tell you anything.

   “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, still refusing to look at you. “I should have . . . I should have done something.”

   You shook your head, reaching up with both hands to wipe away any tears that hadn’t dried already. “No, it’s . . . I’m over reacting.”

   Now he was the one shaking his head. “No, you aren’t. You thought I was dead, and I did nothing to indicate otherwise, when I should have.”

   You sighed and crossed your arms, this time more to find warmth than anything else. “Well, it isn’t like you owed it to me. We’re just friends,” you muttered, with a bitterness you wish you would have stopped. You’d said it in such a way, it was obvious you wanted more. You prayed he hadn’t caught it, but when your eyes finally wandered back to his, you knew otherwise.

   He looked stricken. He didn’t move at all. You would have thought he wasn’t breathing, if you couldn’t see his every breath turn a pale white in the air.

   You looked away, squeezing your eyes shut. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just-”

   You couldn’t finish your statement when you felt his gloves cupping your face. They were rough, his gloves, but the warmth seeming through from his skin more than made up for it. Your breath caught in your throat when you realized how close you were. His lips were barely an inch from yours. This close, you could just barely see through the white lenses. You could see his eyes, searching yours just as much as you were searching his. Searching for a reason to stop.

   Trouble is, neither of you found one.

   Most of Damian’s brothers knew how difficult it is to keep their other identities a secret from the ones they love. However, what none of them will ever understand, is how much infinitely more difficult it is to keep you actual identity a secret.

   The obvious answer to the problem is to simply come out and tell you, isn’t it?

   Incorrect.

   You had only ever spoken down on wealthy people, if you weren’t plainly indifferent (thankfully, the Waynes fell in that category) about them. He knew for a fact that you weren’t the kind of person to decide on the spot if a person’s wealth defined them. It was more than likely you would still love him just as much when he told you as you had when he’d kissed you on the roof.

   Still, he hadn’t told you. Three months had gone by, and he still had yet to tell you so much as his initials. You knew his dog’s name, and his cat’s name, and you had finally been to the Batcave, but you did not know your boyfriend’s name.

   He had his reasons, you and you knew that. It wasn’t because of his insecurities (even if they were a part of the reason), it was because it was dangerous. If his enemies somehow got to you, they would discover very quickly that you really didn’t know who he was. It would put you in less danger.

   However, even he could see that you were growing tired of not knowing who your were kissing goodbye on rooftops or who you were letting into your room through your window, even if you weren’t going to admit it to yourself.

   What you would admit, however, is just how you surprised and concerned you were, when you opened the door to the roof at sunset, book in hand, earbuds in, prepared to sit patiently and wait for his arrival, only to find him already there, pacing back and forth in the middle of the roof. You apprehensively pulled your earbuds out, eyebrow quirked.

   He was muttering to himself, something you knew to be something he only did when extremely focused, and perhaps nervous. He did it while sketching on occasion. After a full minute ticked by and still, he hadn’t noticed you, you decided to make your presence known. “Robin?” His head snapped in your direction. “Something up?”

   You had just closed the squeaky metal door when he crossed the roof, as rigid as you’d seen him in a long time.

   “Damian Wayne,” he blurted out, arms crossed, as he tried to look composed and calm.

   You blinked at him, mouth hanging ajar. It took you a good minute to process anything. “What?”

   He paused for a moment, jaw tightening. “My name.”

   You blinked again, before you realized what was happening. “Oh, you’re-” you stopped, eyes narrowing as you thought on it. “You’re Damian Wayne?”

   He nodded, and you almost expected him to pass out, seeing as you haven’t seen him breathe since you opened the door.

   “As in, Bruce Wayne’s son?”

   Again he nodded, but this time, he reached up and peeled off his mask.

   You had only ever seen his eyes through the lenses, save for the night you found him bleeding in the alley, so you liked to think you were within your rights to be taken aback. The vibrancy of the blue-green alone about knocked the breath out of you, but the intensity within them was a force in its own right.

    “Jesus,” you breathed.

   You could visibly see him tense with your reaction. “Are you . . . Are you disappointed?”

   You shook off your shock at the quiet regret in his voice, hands rising to rest on either of his arms. “No! No, no! I’m just,” you paused, closing your eyes and shaking your head. To his surprise, you started laughing. “Robin- Damian, you just scared the shit out me!”

   He looked confused, but his hands came to rest on your hips. “What do mean?”

   “I thought you were about to break up with me or something,” you laughed. “Then you start spouting off words that didn’t make sense, and then you show me the pretties pair of eyes I’ve ever seen! Give me a second to recover!”

   Damian let out some kind of laugh, though it sound more like a sigh. “Here I am, practically bearing my soul, and you’re making jokes,” he grinned at you and hung his head, trying to let off some of the tension at his shoulders.

[daringyounggrayson]

hold me (i’m falling apart) part 2

Summary: The aftermath of Dick’s confession and how they survive moving forward.

(part 1)

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“There’s always a choice.”

“It’s not like you were the only person I didn’t tell.”

“Like that makes it better?”

“I’m sorry, okay? I was just trying to do what was best for the mission.”

“Was it worth it?”

Dick used to look at Wally and think he didn’t deserve him, but in that “how did I get so lucky?” kind of way. Now he looks at Wally and knows he doesn’t deserve him, but in that “how can he stand to look at me?” kind of way. The kind that makes his empty stomach churn. Wally yells at him after he finishes, and it’s not enough. He knows he hurt people—he knew he would before he did it—but dealing with it is something he could never truly prepare for. He doesn’t bother mentioning that it wasn’t just him that came up with the plan because it doesn’t matter at this point.

He expects Wally to leave after that. Break up with him, cuss him out, punch him even. But Wally doesn’t. And that makes it worse.

No. Instead, Wally glares at him and shakes and goes quiet. He re-stitches the wound on Dick’s stomach and fixes him dinner before he says he’s going out. Dick is told to stay put. And for once, he listens. He crawls into their bed and cries. He doesn’t deserve to break down, not after what he did and the pain he caused, but he does anyway because the look Wally had in his eye was enough to push him over.

About an hour later, he hears Wally come home. He opens the door to their bedroom, probably just to make sure that Dick didn’t run off. He stands in the doorway, just watching him. Eventually, Dick sits up and looks at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch.”

It hurts. But he deserves it. He deserves so, so much worse.

Dick wakes up early the next morning and finds that sure enough, Wally slept on the couch. He doesn’t wake him up. He leaves a note on the coffee table letting Wally know he went to Gotham to check in. He knows Wally will be mad, but there really is a lot of work to be done. Taking last night off put him behind, and he can’t afford to fall even further behind.

When he gets home later that evening, Wally is there. The couch is being used as a couch again, but the pillow and blanket are still close by. He wonders how long he’ll have to sleep in that cold, empty bed.

“Where have you been?” Wally asks, and Dick doesn’t know if he’s relieved or terrified that he’s speaking to him.

“Um, I went to Gotham to check in on how things went with Riddler last night, then I went into the station for a few hours before heading off to the Bludhaven base. I did some training with the Team, and then I caught up on some files and tried to track down Kaldur, Artemis, and M’gann.”

Wally clenched his fist but doesn’t comment. Instead, he says, “I want your case files. Everything you’ve been keeping since this little scheme of yours started.”

Dick swallows. “Okay.” He puts his bag down on the counter and pulls his laptop out. He doesn’t open it right away, just rests his hands on it, frozen. A beat passes, then he turns his head halfway towards Wally and says, “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“Seriously, Dick?”

He bites his lip but doesn’t look away. Because this is important; they’ve come so far, and they can’t risk it all blowing up in their faces when they’re so close.

“No, okay? I kept your little secret for you.”

Dick nods, holding back the “thank you” that Wally doesn’t want to hear. He opens his laptop and inserts a USB. He walks over to Wally and sits down on the couch, but not next to him (half on top of him) like he normally would. He opens the necessary files and hands them over to Wally. “This is our communication record, and then the other files are Kaldur’s log, the intel he’s retrieved, records specifically about the Light and their partner, the Reach, the Team’s interactions with Aqualad, and then all of the precautions taken to keep this a secret.”

Wally scrolls through it wordlessly, and Dick just sits there, unsure of what he’s supposed to do with himself. Wally side-eyes him every now and then, but other than that—nothing.

He kind of wishes Wally would just yell at him some more.

“Have you eaten today?” Wally asks, but there’s no concern in his voice. It’s still anger, and Dick thinks his actions might have made it permanent.

Dick has to think. He doesn’t think—wait, yes, he had a protein bar that Alfred had handed him when he left the Manor. But that was hours ago, and that probably explains the dizziness Dick’s experiencing at the moment. “Yeah.”

“What?”

“A protein bar, a few hours ago.”

Wally scoffs but doesn’t have to say anything else for Dick to kick into action. He pushes himself off the couch, mumbling an “I’ll find something in the fridge.” as he does. Wally doesn’t say anything verbally, but there’s this sense of “you better” that hangs in the air.

Wally spends the next hour and a half reading through the files, and when he finishes, he doesn’t say anything. Just closes the laptop calmly and slides it onto the coffee table. He stands, looking almost dazed, and announces that he’s going on a walk, that he needs some air. Wally clearly went on more than a walk, though, because he’s gone for almost two hours. He comes back with windswept hair and flushed cheeks. He has a paper bag of takeout held in one arm against his chest, and he doesn’t even tell Dick to come to the table, just gestures at him impatiently. They eat in silence—Dick chewing slowly as he watches Wally out of the corner of his vision, waiting for him to snap at him—and it’s not until they’re halfway finished that Wally finally says something.

Wally lets his fork drop with a clatter and looks up at Dick with an angry expression. “Has it ever occurred to you that Kaldur might be playing you too? That he’s a triple agent?”

Dick glares at him, already getting defensive. “Kaldur wouldn’t—”

“He almost killed you!” Wally yells as he stands, eyes wild.

Right. The explosion. Dick lets his shoulders drop; he can explain this. “It was all in the flash drive. He knew we would have to pursue to make it look legit, and that’s exactly what happened.” Dick stays seated, tries to remain level-headed and calm. “But he gave us time to get out. We just—we got caught in the debris field.”

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“The cave is—was—just a place!” Now he’s standing, and his defensiveness is turning into anger. “Worth sacrificing if it means advancing the mission,” Dick huffs. There are tears building up in the corners of his eyes and he so wishes he was wearing a mask. “Look, I’m sorry you lost all of your souvenirs.”

“Are you serious?” Wally shoves him back into his chair. “I don’t care about that junk; I’m worried about you!”

Oh.

Oh.

oOo

The next afternoon, Dick sees Wally come out of their room with a bag slung over his shoulder.

Shit.

He quickly sits up from his lying position on the couch, but he can’t bring himself to stand up and move towards him. “Wally, please don’t leave. If you need to be away from me for a bit, I get it. But I’ll go. You don’t need to.”

“I’m going to Central. Bart and Barry asked me to come over, and I’m planning on staying there tonight. Either Barbara or Tim will cover Nightwing’s patrol route. I told them to stop here first for a debriefing and to check in on you since I won’t be here.”

“Wally, I’m fi—”

“Can we agree that you’ll stop lying to me?” Wally snaps. “At least for the rest of the week?”

Dick pushes himself deeper against the arm of the couch.

“Do you have any idea what you put us through?” Wally continues. “What you put me through? Just because you don’t care about what happens to you doesn’t mean I don’t. And after everything that has been happening—or not happening—you are not putting me through losing you. So, you’re taking a few days. Clear?”

Dick nods, eyes glued to the floor because he can’t bring himself to look at Wally.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

oOo

After two weeks, things significantly calm down. Wally and Dick are sleeping in the same bed again, and Dick is able to do vigilante work without Wally’s gaze threatening to kill him. They’re not back to normal—still tense, hurt feelings and arguments lingering in their air—and Dick is starting to realize that they won’t be for a while. He knew that going in, but he didn’t realize just how long “a while” was going to be until now.

When he gets onto the apartment’s fire escape after Bludhaven patrol that night, he sees that the lamp in the living room is on. He crawls in, surprised to find that Wally isn’t there studying. He does that sometimes, most nights if he can. He’ll stay up studying while he waits for Dick, just to make sure he gets in okay and that nothing is wrong. It’s not really something he used to do, but—he’s worried. He thinks Dick is doing too much and it’s like he’s waiting (preparing) for Dick to slip up. Dick’s kind of waiting too.

“Everything go okay?”

Dick jumps. He’s off his game. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Sorry.”

Dick waves him off, starts taking off his suit. “How long have you been standing there?”

“I was in the kitchen and heard the window open.”

“Oh.”

“Are you still heading to Gotham?”

Dick nods. “Yeah, just need to change.” Wally’s still watching him, he looks like he wants to say something. “What?”

Wally shakes his head. “Nothing, forget it. Just—be safe tonight, okay?”

“Yeah.” Dick looks at the worrisome bags under Wally’s eyes. “Get some sleep.”

Wally nods, a silent promise. “Are you coming home tonight?”

“Probably. I’ll text you either way.”

“Okay. Night.” Wally waves at him and heads for the bathroom.

Dick heads to their room to change into his Batman uniform, not wanting to waste time going to the Cave to change. He wasn’t expecting a kiss or a hug, but still, not getting one makes him feel hallow.

Wally’s still in the bathroom when Dick leaves, and he hears the shower running. He leaves through the window again, still not feeling like himself but feeling less empty now that he can focus on night’s plans instead of his and Wally’s fragile (but healing) relationship status.  

But within two hours he’s inhaling mouthfuls of Joker gas and he can’t get enough oxygen in. His laughter is filling the room, blocking out all of his other senses. He’s choking on the sound, stomach contracting so painfully he wonders if it’s still possible to pull Wally’s stitches. Joker’s getting away, and by the time his vision fades out, he’s still alone. All alone.

oOo

When he comes to, there’s a needle in his hand and a nasal cannula in his nostrils. He turns his head to find Alfred. “The others okay?” Dick asks, and damn, his throat hurts.

“Both in good health, Master Dick. Miss Barbara went home shortly after you were stabilized, and I sent Master Tim up to bed about an hour ago. You, on the other hand, received an unusually large dose of Joker gas.”

Dick grunts in approval. His chest and stomach definitely hurt enough to prove that. “Joker?”

“Recaptured and being moved back to Arkham as we speak. And thanks to your efforts, he wasn’t able to release his venom upon the rest of Gotham.”

Right, Dick had set it off in the warehouse. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to get to Joker fast enough, so he shot down the hot air balloon and released the gas in the warehouse, hoping the gas wouldn’t travel too far out of the lot’s vicinity. It had just been him and Joker in there; no harm done.

Calculated and hopeful as the plan was though, Dick had to admit, it was still reckless. Effective yes, but reckless all the same. Wally wouldn’t be pleased. “You didn’t call Wally, did you?”

“Why, of course I did,” Alfred says, raising an eyebrow like he doesn’t know Dick and Wally are . . . tense. “Once you were stabilized, I called Master Wally to fill him in on tonight’s escapades. I told him you were stable but that I would like for you to stay here for observation. He’s on his way here from Bludhaven now.”

“He’s driving?”

“Yes, he did,” Wally’s voice sounds through the Cave.

“Ah, Master Wally.” Dick didn’t even hear him come down the stairs. “Can I get you something to eat? Or perhaps a warm beverage?”

“I’m good, but thanks, Alfred,” Wally says, smiling, turning the keys in his hands.

“Very well. If everything is alright, Master Dick, I shall take my leave.”

“I’m okay, Alfie.”

Alfred nods, standing up from the chair at Dick’s bedside. He pats his shoulder once, and then he’s gone.

Wally doesn’t speak until Alfred’s footsteps become inaudible. Then he sighs, looks at Dick and says, “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure, actually. After all, you can be worried about people you don’t love. He does it all the time as Nightwing. And you can definitely be mad and angry with people you don’t love. After the betrayal that Dick put Wally through—after he made Wally mourn one of his best friends—well, Dick wouldn’t blame him for hating him. “I love you, too.”

“You just—you scare me sometimes, babe.”

Wally hasn’t called him that since their big argument, and it feels so amazing on his ears.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because what else can he say?

“It’s who you are,” Wally tells him, walking closer. “This is your life, and no matter how much I hate it sometimes, I can’t ask you to give it up. Or the things that go with it.”

Dick’s heart is racing from the uncertainty of not knowing what Wally will say next.

“But I can tell you that I’m always here for you,” Wally says, grabs Dick’s hand tightly in his own. And Dick squeezes it back, clings to it like the lifeline it truly is. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still pissed and I don’t think I’m ever going to be happy with how this played out, but—” Wally shrugs “—it’s a tough situation, things are complicated. And I know this has to be hard for you, too. So, I’m here for you, and I’m asking you to let me be there.”

Dick tugs on his hand, pulls him into a hug. It feels like home. “I miss you,” Dick tells him, whispers to him.

“I miss you, too,” Wally says back, and Dick knows he means it.

“This is almost over, I promise.”

Wally nods, breathes him in. “Good. Just don’t die, okay?”

oOo

For the first time in a while, Dick is able to keep his promise to Wally. But Wally doesn’t return the favor.

He feels like someone punched a hole through his chest. He’s on his knees somewhere in the Arctic, right where the love of his life just vanished.

“Wally!” Dick chokes out in this broken voice that he can’t recognize.

“He wanted me to tell you,” Barry is saying, his hand resting on his shoulder as if that can keep him grounded.

“No.” He can’t listen to this, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening; Wally wasn’t even supposed to be here. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“He wanted me to tell you that he loved you,” Barry finishes, and he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, too.

Dick leans into Barry, letting himself sob, not caring who’s watching. It hurts too much, this is too much.

He doesn’t know how long he’s there, but at some point, numbness starts to mix with the pain. He ends up at the watchtower. Batman is there in front of him.

“Wally,” Dick sobs, leaning into Bruce.

Bruce wraps his arms around Dick and holds him tight, but they’re not the arms Dick needs. Bruce knows that, Dick thinks, but those arms are also the only thing holding him together. He’s shaking so hard, and without those arms, he thinks he’ll fall apart and shatter (and maybe that would be best, maybe then he could be with Wally).

When Dick's shakes and sobs finally let up, he feels numb and wrong and like part of him (all of him) is missing. Before he has time to reflect on that, Bruce rumbles, “Let’s get you home."

Dick lets himself be led out, he lets himself be taken back to the manor. He changes into sweats and an old t-shirt. He lets Bruce tuck him into bed and smooth out his bangs like he used to do when Dick had nightmares as a kid. He closes his eyes and lets himself be taken away by those same nightmares he used to stay awake to avoid back then, hoping that, by some miracle, they’ll replace this nightmare.

Because the light in his life is gone, his home is gone. And it’s his fault. His fault.

[firesoulstuff]

Comic Accuracy

Here I am for Day 3 of Captain Canary Week! For AU day I let my little sister take the reigns a bit, as I suck at thinking of AU’s, so I pulled up a list found here on Tumblr and asked her for a random number and letter. I have to say, I really like what she picked!

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15550620

“I swear if it reaches one-hundred today, I’m going to pass out.” Sara remarks, pulling her blonde hair over her shoulder while Leonard sets to work on lacing up her corset for her.

“They’re saying it might,” He tells her, even though she already knows. “Drink water.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She says, brushing off his concern. After working at Six Flags in the heat of summer for three years she has learned to keep herself hydrated during her shifts, especially since playing White Canary forces her to dress head to toe in leather.

It’s during heat waves such as the one they’re caught in the middle of now that she misses her old days as Black Canary, back when her costume had been nothing more than a corset and tights. That old suit had been one of the coolest costumes in the park, literally, but it also had the drawback of attracting more perverts than any other. Rip, the park manager, had let the first two incidents of her slapping a guest who got a little too handsey with her slide, but after she sent the last creep to the hospital he had no choice but to retire the costume and reposition her.

“Try wearing the parka,” Leonard’s chiding voice teases as he finishes lacing her up. She smirks as she turns around to face him, hooking her wrists around his neck and pulling herself in close.

“Like your street clothes are much better?” She taunts, knowing perfectly well that even in the worst of the July heat he will still choose to wear long sleeved shirts and jackets.

He smirks back at her, hands grabbing at her waist as she leans in for a kiss-

“Guys!” The whining voice of none other than Raymond Palmer interrupts them just before their lips can actually meet, and turning with an exaggerated sigh Sara sees their friend opening his own locker and looking like a kicked puppy.

“Comic accuracy,” he complains. “Come on, Captain Cold and White Canary don’t even meet in the comics.”

Sara smirks at him while Leonard makes a show of rolling his eyes before turning around to grab his parka and goggles off the bench.

“Well it’s about time they did,” Sara says, an evil smile crossing her face as she looks over to Leonard. “Maybe I’ll take a walk over to Central this afternoon.”

From the corner of her eye she can see Ray biting his tongue on that one, evidently needing all of his self control to keep from nagging them about “comic accuracy” yet again. The park has three big superhero areas; Metropolis, Gotham City, and Central City. All characters who hail from those three places in the comics are supposed to stay in their designated cities, while the rest of them are supposed to stay around the Hall of Justice in the center of the three. The problem is that the area where the Hall of Justice is located is a twenty-foot radius at best, and there are usually three to five alternate characters on a shift. So, sometimes when foot traffic is slow, they’ll take turns wandering into the other “cities” in order to stretch their legs.

Her work here done, and needing to get to her station for actual work, Sara closes her locker and leaves the dressing area with a smirk.

She doesn’t actually end up wandering in Central City. Partly because the nice weather brings in a decent crowd of park goers and so she has to actually do her job, and partly because she spends her entire shift working with Ray and she’s pretty sure he’s watching to make sure she doesn’t go crushing any little kid’s dreams.

Personally she doesn’t understand what he’s so worried about, it’s not like she’s going to just walk up to Leonard in the middle of work and start making out with him.

Anyway, it’s the end of her shift and Amaya has come to relieve her, so she heads off to the locker room. It isn’t unusual that she beats Len here, as The Hall is a lot closer than Central, but today is an exception. She sees him coming from the opposite direction so she decides to wait for him in front of the wooden gate that leads to the employee’s only section of the park’s property.

“You’re on time,” she remarks as he gets closer, a teasing grin on her face that he soon matches.

“Wasn’t waiting on Barry this time.”

Ah, that makes sense. She leans in and gives him a quick kiss on the lips, barely a peck really, but she still hears a sharp intake of breath that definitely does not come from him.

Pulling away he looks just as confused, and slowly the two of them turn their heads to see a little boy, probably about nine or ten years old and wearing a Flash t-shirt, gawking up at them.

Thank God Ray isn’t here.

List that I used can be found here

[sassyshoulderangel319]

Notes: I run @centralcitygirlingotham and this is a “deleted scene” from the story going on over there. By deleted, I mean, “I’m expanding on the story so the READERS know what’s going but Tally isn’t going to post about it.”

Yawning, I pushed the door to my apartment open. Smacking my lips with my mind focused on what to stick in the microwave for dinner, I didn’t notice anyone else was in my apartment until a hand closed over my mouth from behind.

“Don’t scream,” a familiar voice said in my ear.

I rolled my eyes, realizing who it was. “Do I ever?” I tried to say. But it was muffled by his glove so it sounded like, “Oo uh uh-uh?”

Red Hood let me go. “Huh?”

“Do I ever?” I repeated.

I heard him snort through his helmet. “Yes you have, once or twice. Not recently though.” He had his other arm across his abdomen, under which blood was seeping. I gasped. “Sumpthin’ wrong, sweetheart?” he asked.

“You’re bleeding!”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?! Oh my word! Sit down! Take your shirt off. I’m gonna clean it out.” 

Red Hood eased himself onto my vinyl floor and slowly worked himself out of his suit top. I helped him slide it off his arms and threw it off to the side. I grabbed my First Aid kit and started to clean out the cut, trying really hard not to vomit. I hated blood. My own on my fingers was fine (nail biter life) but gory wounds like this made me lightheaded.

Hood chuckled at the look on my face. “Queasy, Tal?” he teased.

“Little,” I admitted.

He laughed. “You’re adorable.” He coughed as I pressed a little harder.

“Sorry,” I apologized.

He shook his head. “‘S fine. Mind if I take this off?” He gestured to his helmet. I shook my head. “Thanks doll.” He leaned his head up just enough to release the helmet with a pssshhh! and freed it from his head. He wore a red domino mask underneath it.

My hand froze where I was holding a damp towel over his wound.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Oh my gosh---Jason?!”

He swore. “How’d you know it was me?”

“You think I can’t recognize my boyfriend’s face because his eyes are covered? The white streak in your hair alone is a dead giveaway!”

“Nn... Yeah. I guess you’re right. You might as well find out now. Speaking of dead giveaways. I was dead once.”

“WHAT?!” So much about Gwen saying Jason Todd died when we were around fifteen making so much more sense.

“Yeah. I was Robin Number Two. The one that the Joker killed.”

“Oh. So now that I know it’s you and you’re getting delirious from blood loss you’re just gonna tell me everything?”

He shrugged from his position lying on my floor. “Might as well. You deserve to know. If you’re going to be in a steady relationship with me, honesty and communication are vital. Secrets aren’t good for relationships. ‘Sides, you’re almost bizarrely trustworthy. Like, I could have told you this the day we met for the first time and still believed you’d keep my secret safe.”

I paused. “...Thanks.”

I finished cleaning and dressing his wound and went back to my bathroom to grab some painkillers. I only had mild ones because I rarely got injured and my dehydration headaches were never bad enough to need anything stronger, but I handed him a few anyway before fetching a glass of water. “Thanks babydoll,” he said, accepting both and taking the pills I offered him. “I feel better already.”

“Try not to get slashed next time, yeah?” I suggested. “Now that I know it’s you I’m going to worry even more.”

Jason put a bloodstained, gloved hand against my face. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’ll be fine. I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know. But people shoot at you, Jay!”

Jay shrugged. “Yeah. Well. Their aim sucks,” he said, trying to sit up and grunting in pain. I helped him upright, biting back my my protesting because I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“So... back when we met at the Gala. That really wasn’t our first meeting,” I said. “Our first meeting was that night you sat next to me on the roof the day after I moved here. You sang Bad Blood under your breath like you didn’t want me to hear it.”

He chuckled and used my shoulder as a handhold to push himself into a standing position. “That’s right. I tailed Nightwing the night before and saw him chilling with you and wondered who could possibly make him stop his patrol to sit on a fire escape with a kid.” He smirked as I got to my feet. “Turns out you’re older than you look from afar---” I jabbed him in the shoulder with my elbow. “---and really calming to be around. Even listening to Taylor Swift and reading Dracula.”

“Wait. If you’re the second Robin and Nightwing was the first...” I mused, knowing that Nightwing once was Robin from Nightwing telling me. “Oh my word. Is Nightwing Dick?”

Jason chuckled. “You’re too clever by half, Tally Star,” he said. “Yup. Dickiebird is Nightwing.”

“So... Bruce is Batman, Tim’s Red Robin, and Damian’s Robin. I’m guessing Cassie is... Orphan?”

“Not Batgirl?” Jason teased.

“Heck no. Batgirl’s a redhead. Cassie’s hair is black. Also different heights.”

Jason snickered. “You’re so smart, Tal.”

“Just because I know it’s you under the helmet and I’m familiar with your family,” I said.

Jason shrugged again and put his suit top back on. “You would have figured it out eventually. You’ve been suspicious of it since before we started dating, back when you overheard me and Dick talking about the fact that you’re a civilian the first time you came to the Manor.”

“Oh. I didn’t... know that you... knew I was there.”

“That’s because you didn’t know that I was trained by Batman.”

“Good point.”

“You’re freaking out significantly less than I thought you would,” Jason said as I helped him fasten his suit back up.

“Dude. I’m from Central City where we’ve got metahumans. And I currently live in Gotham. I’m surprised and also astounded that I didn’t figure it out earlier. And yeah I’m scared and worried about you now that I know, but I also trust you. I feel like I’ve reached the point where it’ll surprise me, but it won’t freak me out.”

Jason glanced out my window. “I should go,” he said. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay. And Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“Be careful.”

He winked at me. “Just for you, princess.”

[jewishaxelwalker]

Driving Faster, Windows Down

It’s that Lyft driver AU I said I’d write back in 2017, finally finished after 10 months. Also available on AO3.

It was an abnormally slow Friday night.

Axel’d been driving around aimlessly for a while, patiently waiting to be pinged for a fare, but no one was biting. Keystone had a good public transit system, and its people were abnormally obsessed with cars, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t tourists out there that’d rather take a Lyft than a taxi. Maybe they just hadn’t made the switch from Uber yet. Like come on, read your Facebook sidebar sometime.

His phone made a noise, and Axel jumped. It was just Joey calling, so he put him on speaker.

“You’re on with Ron.” He deadpanned, and on the other end of the line, Joey snorted.

“Dead night?”

“I’d get more action in a graveyard, dude.”

Joey laughed out loud, and Axel pulled into a Shell station. No need to roll and waste when he wasn’t getting fares to fill his gas tank. He and Joey chatted for a bit about the usual junk; Axel’s online classes were inane, Joey’s brother was still bugging him about moving to Gotham so he could use him as a free babysitter (”Seriously dude, how the hell is your niece so cute? Jack is as pug-ugly as they come.”), Kesha’s Instagram feed, the Combines having yet another fantastically losing season-

And then his phone pinged with a ride request. Three blocks away. Single passenger, some shitty little motel not a mile from the airport.

“Gotta go, man. I think I’m about to be some flight attendant’s ride of triumph.” He hated the other term. Getting laid was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Oh, sweet. If she’s hot and heading to Gotham, I’ll be on the next flight.” Axel shook his head, switching the bluetooth back to his Google Play. Hitting on customers was how Joey’d gotten dismissed from his last two jobs. He loved his best friend, but thinking with his dick was gonna get Joey killed someday.

And failing to pay attention to who he was picking up was going to get Axel killed. He didn’t even glance at the passenger notification until he’d pulled into the motel parking lot. He was expecting a blonde Cindy or a brunette Sharona, not a redheaded Owen.

“Axel?” The guy asked as he climbed into the back seat, and Axel swallowed hard.

“The one and only.” Owen grinned, and there was a slight chance Axel gunned it a bit too hard on the way out of the parking lot.

Axel liked driving for Lyft because he got to meet a lot of new and interesting people he could subject to his musical taste. Yeah, some of his passengers were hotter than others, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be getting the Indie Girl Kitchen treatment.

“You got any preference, or can I just put on whatever?” He asked, flicking through his playlists as they waited at the light. Owen frowned.

“Maybe something chill? I’ve been stressing out of my mind for the last two hours, and I don’t want to look like a psycho when I get there.” Axel immediately flicked over to artists. Fuck the playlists, Owen was getting The Valley. Yeah it was a breakup album, but it was also the best thing he’d heard all year and it relaxed him like nothing else.

Owen sank back into his seat as the album started. Axel wondered if he should interrupt what was clearly going to be a pivotal moment in his life with small talk, but Owen beat him to it.

“Is it a slow night or something? You were there less than three minutes after I called for a ride.” Axel shrugged, glancing up at the rearview mirror. Owen was watching him intently.

“It’s always slow in this town but yeah, tonight was dead. Pretty much the only people that use Lyft are teenagers with no cars and tourists. Driving is a huge thing in Keystone.” His eyes wandered to the mirror again, but Owen was looking out the window now. “Where you from?” The accent had a northeastern touch to it, but Axel couldn’t quite place the state.

“Oh, uh, Gotham. But if tonight goes good, I’m probably gonna end up moving here.” Owen cut himself off by sticking his index finger in his mouth, chewing on the nail. “Hey, can I like, vent something? Taxicab Confessions style?” Axel nodded, not wanting to interrupt what was bound to be an excellent bit of wordvomit. “So uh, my foster mom died two weeks ago.”

“Holy shit man, I’m sorry-“ He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, berating himself. No more outbursts. “But go on.” Owen bit his lip, staring down at his hands.

“My foster mom died two weeks ago. I mean, I’m 23, I’ve been on my own for a few years now, but we still kept in touch. She raised me from when I was 8. She was my mom. I was in her will and everything. What she left me was, uh, well aside from some money and a few of her things, she left me the ability to find my dad. My biological dad. He’s been living in Keystone for like ten years now, and she tracked him down ages ago when she found out that he’d been looking for me. She told him that I was healthy and happy and not to fuck up my life by coming into it unless he meant to stay and raise me.” They were lucky for the traffic. Some Kinda Wonderful slid into You Can Cry Tomorrow, and Owen cleared his throat.

“I can turn this off, if it’s bothering you.” Axel offered, but Owen just shook his head.

“No, I like it. Anyway, I got in contact with him last week. He told me he’d book me a flight as soon as he could, because he’d been waiting years to meet me. Which leads to today. I told him not to pick me up at the airport, that I’d meet him for dinner somewhere, and I’m kinda freaking out? I don’t even know what he looks like. I mean, what if we look nothing alike, and he loses it because I look like the mom I’ve never met? What if we look a lot alike and it turns out I’m gonna age like shit? And those are just the petty, superficial fears!  Like, what if his family has a history of cancer or depression or erectile dysfunction or something?”

Axel started when he realized that Owen’s question didn’t seem to be rhetorical. 

“I think it might be a good idea to just breathe, Owen. Start with the simple stuff, like how you both probably loved Pacific Rim, then get down to the medical histories.” Owen was looking at him again, his mouth quirked in a crooked little grin. “What?”

“I totally loved Pacific Rim. I lost my shit when Cherno Alpha got taken down by Leatherback.” Axel could fall in love with this man. He could. Owen wasn’t protesting The Valley and remembered details about Pacific Rim. It didn’t hurt that he was hotter than the surface of Mercury.

He selfishly hoped that the traffic would keep up the glacial pace. It didn’t, of course, and they were at the restaurant less than a song later.

“I’m sure your dinner will go fine. And if it doesn’t, just call for a Lyft. I’m pretty sure I’m one of like six people driving tonight for the whole city, you can vent again.” Which wasn’t an exaggeration, Lyft just had not taken off in Keystone the way it had in places like Gateway City and Metropolis. Sometimes when he was strapped for cash, Axel crossed the bridge into Central and got fares there. They had a different center of industry, after all. Owen was smiling again, actually smiling, and it felt like his heart had crawled up into his throat.

“I’ll keep that in mind. And, thanks man. For the ride and. Yeah.” Owen reached out, snagging his hand and giving it a little squeeze. He left behind a $10 bill. “Hope I get you again sometime.”

After Owen left, Axel lurked in the area until after midnight. No pings ever came. It was disappointing, but it also meant that Owen and his father had peacefully reconnected, which was nice. He turned off his active status and drove home.

***

A few weeks passed and slowly, Axel began to forget about his handsome passenger. School let out for summer, which meant fares by the dozen. His grades came back eventually, and as he’d expected, he’d aced everything. Joey’s brother finally wore his best friend down.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually moving to Jersey.” He complained one night while they packed up Joey’s half of their apartment. Jack had paid Joey’s part of the rent for the next six months, more than enough time for Axel to find a new roommate, but still.

“Moving back to Jersey,” Joey reminded him. “And me neither. But Janice has had to travel a lot for work lately, and they don’t want Becky to be raised by some nanny.” 

“You better come back to visit.” Axel grumbled, shoving the contents of one of Joey’s drawers into a box a bit harder than necessary. “So I can show off how awesome my new roommate is.”

Joey went quiet, the clacking of DVD boxes coming to a slow halt. “You already found someone?” Axel sighed.

“Dude. I haven’t even put out an ad yet. I’ve got six months of walking around naked without someone yelling at me to get some damn pants on to savor, first.”

They laughed, and Joey pulled him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss the hell out of you, Ax. Now c’mon, my flight is in two days, and we’ve still gotta get all this shit to UPS.”

At least one upside to this moving business, Jack was footing the bill for everything. Which meant that Joey’s few boxes of possessions that wouldn’t fit into his plane luggage were making it to Gotham in style.

All too soon, it was time to make their way to the airport.

“Don’t let the new guy do anything weird to my room.” Joey said. “And you lay down the fuckin’ law in regards to all prog rock.”

“Yes to Yes, Rush can suck dicks in hell.” It had been literally the first thing Joey had said to him two years ago, when he’d shown up at their apartment, looking to rent the other room. “You call me when the plane lands, okay? Like, from the runway.” They hugged again, and Axel felt his spine pop a little when Joey lifted him off the ground.

As soon as Joey was through his gate, Axel turned his Lyft notifications back on. He was already at the airport, after all, and it wasn’t like Jack was throwing in money for groceries. Within seconds of making it to his car, the app pinged with a ride request. The name made him blink, a grin spreading out onto his face.

Owen M is requesting a ride.

He met Owen back at the same terminal he’d just left, taking note of the pair of huge canvas duffel bags. The dinner with his dad must have gone amazingly well.

“Axel!” Owen was all smiles when he hopped out of the car to help him with his bags. “Man, you really are the only Lyft driver in this city, huh?” Axel snorted.

“Nah, my roommate needed a ride. He’s moving back to Gotham, to be closer to his family.”

“What a coincidence, that’s exactly what I’m doing here.”

When they stood side by side to shove everything into the trunk, Axel noticed that he was a good foot shorter than Owen. Yowza. 

Don’t pull a Joey, you’re good at this driving shit.

As they left the airport and got onto the highway, Axel wondered what he should say. Should he ask about Owen’s flight? The route he was taking wasn’t leading to the motel, but to a residential area. He was probably going to be staying with his dad while he looked for an apartment. In the end, it was Owen who drew first blood.

“I looked up that album you were playing when I got back home, it was really killer." 

I need to call my mom, because I’ve met the man I’m going to marry.

“Yeah?” He said instead, feigning casual. “Which songs did you like best?”

“Wellll...the cover of that Donna Lewis song was somehow earworm-ier than the original, but Blue Heaven Midnight Crush definitely did the most for me. The rest of the songs were so sad, when you actually listened to the lyrics. But that one, it’s so hopeful. I like songs like that.” Giving random strangers mixtapes was weird, right? It was definitely weird, calm down. “Oh, so in case you couldn’t tell, I live here now. My dad is putting me up until I find a place of my own.”

Thank god, a change of subject.

“You shouldn’t have too much trouble, plenty of people out there are looking for roommates.” A glance in the rear view mirror showed that Owen was watching him intently. “What?”

“Didn’t you just ship your roommate off to Gotham?”

Bad idea bad idea bad idea.

“Yeah, well. You could probably find a better part of town to live in-” Owen grinned, and Axel’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough to dent it. “I don’t even need to put out an ad for a couple of months, his half is paid up for a while.”

Mercifully, they soon pulled up in front of an unassuming apartment building not ten blocks from his own. Owen caught his eye in the mirror again, then glanced away.

“Hey, maybe this is weird but, would you mind if I gave you my number? It could be cool to have a local to hang with that isn’t my dad.” As if on cue, a tall-ish, pudgy man with auburn hair rushed out of the building, practically ripping the driver-side rear door open.

“Owen! I got th’ day off after all! Did yeh flight get in early?” The man had an accent that was definitely not from around here.

“This is your local?” Axel asked, eyebrow raised, and Owen laughed.

“He’s lived here for like, a decade. He knows which Denny’s is the good Denny’s, and that’s all that matters.”

“No such thing as a good Denny’s.” Axel and Owen’s father said, practically in unison, and Axel groaned, head thunking to the steering wheel. I’ve been set up.

“Friend of yers, Owen?” The older man asked curiously, looking Axel up and down as he got out and popped the trunk. “Bit young, innit he?”

Axel huffed as he helped Owen drag out one of his insanely heavy duffels. “I’m 20. And what the fuck is in here man, a dead body?”

“Close, it’s the bones of the guy that took me to the airport back in Gotham.” Owen was cheeky, when he wasn’t anxious. That was. Definitely dangerous. “So...your number? That way I can just throw you gas money next time I need a ride somewhere.”

“I knew you had ulterior motives. Everyone only wants me for my sweet wheels.” Axel replied dryly, but he grabbed a marker from his center console anyway, scribbling his number on Owen’s wrist. Owen grinned down at him as Axel kept hold of his wrist a few seconds longer than necessary, and that’s when his father reasserted his presence. 

“And I’m George!” He said, a bit too loudly to be casual. “Folks called me Digger. And you are, boy that’s bound to be ‘round for tea at some point?” Owen snorted, lips clamped shut to keep from laughing.

“Axel.” He was good at parents, parents always loved him. Other people’s parents, at least. “I’m one of the two Lyft drivers in town. I actually live like, two miles from here.”

That admission sent Digger off on a spiel about some restaurant in the area that had kicked him out last year, and Axel suddenly realized why he’d had a prickling feeling of familiarity this whole time. “I was there for that!” Digger stopped himself mid-sentence, jaw going slack. “Yeah, you got kicked out of Marcela’s at like, one in the morning after you tried to fight the waiter and he totally-” Kicked your ass, Axel didn’t say, but the sentiment hung in the air regardless. “I’m uh. Gonna go. I think I have another ride.”

He didn’t, but it sped up the process of getting Owen’s bags out of his car. Axel drove around aimlessly for a little bit afterwards, his phone off in the passenger’s seat. He only turned it on again once he was in his apartment, and it immediately rang.

“Dude I’ve been calling for like an hour I almost hopped back on the goddamn plane.” Axel sighed, flopping down onto the couch, kicking off his shoes. 

“I miss you too, buddy. How’s that glorious Gotham smog?”

“Like a party in my lungs and everyone’s throwing up. Why was your phone off?” The sigh was deeper this time, and Axel thunked his head against the arm of the couch a few times.

“Remember that guy I told you about, from a month back? Well...” As he spilled out the story, Joey helpfully laughed at him. Multiple times. “Hey, shut up. Unlike you, I don’t make a habit of chasing down every warm body that turns my head.”

“Yeah but also unlike me, you’ve dated like, half a person in all the time I’ve known you.” He had a point. “And does it really count as a date if the guy leaves the theater halfway through to-”

“Point taken!” Axel yelped, frowning at the continued buzzing in his ear. “Were you blowing up my texts, too? I’ve got like ten.”

“Don’t look at me, you know my fingers don’t like texting.” It was true, Joey had hands the size of Axel’s head. Which meant- 

“Oh my god he’s been texting me almost this whole time, what do I do.”

“Depends, there an unsolicited dick pic in there?”

“Joey! Also, no.”

Sorry about that, my dad can be...a lot :( But I promise he’s lonely and weird in a good way.

I honestly didn’t think you were 20, btw. I was convinced a fetus had somehow conned its way into the DMV.

That was a joke.

Shit you probably don’t text and drive. Which is good, don’t text and drive.

It’s wild that it’s only like 7pm. My body is convinced it’s later. I mean I know Keystone and Gotham are only an hour apart, but this city goes to sleep earlier.

Do you wanna get something to eat? I don’t start my job until Monday, so I have like three days to kill and I want to explore things.

The city, I mean.

Oh my god I’m just blowing up your phone like some kind of desperate creep I’m so sorry

If on the off chance you haven’t blocked me, I’m walking over to the park we passed on the way to my dad’s place, to bang my head against a tree for a while

“...wow, he’s a loser.” Axel snorted but honestly...yeah, he kinda was.

“He’s a cute loser. And he likes my music.”

“Keeper.”

“Definitely. I’ll call you tomorrow, Joey. I’ve gotta go save some trees.” Just as he was about to hang up, his friend got in one last jab.

“So when he eventually moves in with you next week, turn my room into a game room so I don’t have to think about you two fucking in there.”  There was a click as Joey disconnected, and Axel covered his face with his hands.

***

The park, funny enough, was only two blocks from his house so instead of wasting gas, Axel grabbed a hoodie off the hook by the door and walked over. He was halfway there before he realized that the jacket he was wearing was one of the ones Joey had shrunk in the wash and left behind. Still didn’t fit him right.

By the time he’d made his way past the last few joggers and couples out for a nice little nighttime stroll and spotted Owen, the taller man was fully laying down on a bench near the small playground, messing with his phone. Moments later, Axel’s own phone buzzed.

I’m by the playground, because I’ve knocked down every tree in the park.

“Yeah, I noticed the path of destruction on the way over.” Axel said as soon as he was close enough, and Owen visibly jumped.

“Jesus! I didn’t think you’d get here that fast! Or at all, really. I was pretty sure I’d basically destroyed the chance of you ever wanting to see me again by sending you fifty texts in under an hour.” Axel shrugged, perching on the very edge of the bench until Owen got the message and sat up properly.

“Man, don’t even worry about it. I’ve screwed up at least one thing a day, every day, my entire life. I’m like a unicorn! Of failure.” That caused Owen to laugh, and Axel grinned to himself. “So what caused you to flee into the night this soon after coming to town, huh?”

Owen coughed, looking down at his feet. The playground was covered in tire mulch, and it looked like some of the bits had made their way into his boots. “So uh. As it turns out, my dad has been seeing someone for a while, and it’s serious enough that he wants me to meet her and her kids sometime this week, because they’re probably going to end up moving in together within the year.”

Yikes.

“Wow that is. You weren’t kidding about your dad being a lot, huh?” Owen grimaced. “Don’t tell me it gets better?”

“The woman he’s been seeing is my biological mom."

Well, holy shit.

Owen ended up spilling the story over the course of the next few minutes, about how his dad and mom had dated briefly years ago, she’d gotten pregnant, and her family had forced her to cut off all contact with Digger and put the baby up for adoption...only for her to run off with a man they absolutely hated (but who was, by all accounts, basically the best guy ever) a few years later. She and the other guy had gotten married, she’d given birth to a pair of twins, and then a few years after that, the guy just up and dies on her. She and the kids bounce around the States for a while, finally settling down across the river from her shitty family that, despite everything, still want to be in her life and get to know her sons. She and Digger ran into each other at the supermarket a couple of months before Owen contacted him, and-

“He didn’t even tell you that your mom was back in his life?! Man, that’s about twenty times the legal limit on ‘a lot’.”

“To be fair-” Axel made an angry little noise, and Owen winced. “To be fair, she’s the one who’s scared as hell to meet me. I mean, she was like, your age when she gave me up. Then she just turned around and started another family without bothering to even try and find me. Dad says that Meloni, that my mom, she’s felt guilty for the last 23 years. Because I’ve been out here all this time, becoming a person, and she doesn’t know anything about me.” There was a little hitch in Owen’s voice there, and they both got very still. “Ah, shit. Ah, geez man I’m-”

“Parents ain’t shit sometimes, even when they’re trying their best.” Axel said quietly, reaching over to hold onto Owen’s elbow. “I uh, I’ve kinda been on my own a while, too. I moved in with Joey like, three months after I turned 18. And, and my situation ain’t anything like yours, but I get it, you know?”

Owen propped the elbow Axel wasn’t holding up on his knee, resting his cheek on his closed fist. Go on, then, his eyes seemed to say in the reflection of the dim lights that were flickering on around the playground. Tell me a story, weird boy. 

The summer before his senior year in high school, Axel’s mom found out Axel’s dad was banging one of his coworkers. They filed for divorce later that same month. Dad moved out, and mom and Axel spent the entire school year selling off or hiding anything valuable he might try and take in the divorce proceedings. They sold the house and split the money down the middle. Dad, now living with his coworker (soon to be fiance), told Axel he couldn’t live with him. Mom, who was planning on taking off for middle-of-nowheresville, Iowa to stay with some cousins, told him that he was welcome to come along, but she’d understand if he wanted to stay, as he’d been accepted to a couple of in-state colleges. He couldn’t afford to go to them, but he also didn’t want to leave the only city he’d ever known.

He stayed. He got a million different shitty jobs. He found a good roommate after one or two bad starts. He enrolled in online classes. He managed to save little odds and ends here and there, enough to do some fun shit, like buy the albums he really liked on vinyl like some kinda hipster, and see a couple of movies a month in the theater. He could afford Netflix, so long as Joey paid for their joint Hulu account. He wasn’t living the dream, but he also wasn’t just straight up surviving. He had a life.

“And then one day, I picked up this weird ginger from a shitty motel by the airport, and here we are.”

Owen was quiet for a while, just watching him and processing. Finally, he spoke.

“When do you turn 21?” Axel blinked.

“Uh, April 17th.” Owen scowled. “What?”

“Well this just means you’re gonna need to wait outside or in an alley or something while I buy liquor, because I think we both need a drink right goddamn now.”

***

In the end, Axel managed to convince Owen to just meet him back at his apartment with his booze. The walk from the park to the closest liquor store should take about half an hour for someone who doesn’t know the area and is just going off their phone’s GPS, which gave him a solid hour to turn the half-empty wreck that was his home into something presentable.

Joey was, of course, in hysterics.

“You’re telling me that not only is he coming back to your place after the two of you had a heart to heart in a public park, but he’s planning on bringing alcohol, which you’re actually planning on drinking?! Was it me? Was I the one holding you back from reaching your true potential? I’ve been gone like half a day and you’re already on the track to getting hella laid.” 

“I’m not gonna get laid.” Axel protested, throwing the boxes they’d never gotten around to taking to the homeless shelter into Joey’s room, as well as the small stack of empty pizza boxes from his goodbye party the week before. “We’re gonna watch a movie, I’m gonna try not to hate beer for once, maybe he’ll crash here. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Dude...it took me like a month to get you to tell me the deal about your folks. This guy just levels the right look at you and you’re singin’ like a canary. You’re gonna have one beer and just throw yourself at him.”

“So then I won’t drink, and we’ll just watch the various Jurassic Park movies until we fall asleep.” The couch pillows were shitty, so he grabbed a couple of his own (one which was shaped like BB-8, the other that was shaped like R2-D2) from his room, as well as a blanket from his closet, just in case.

“We don’t have any of the Jurassic Park movies on- oh my god you’re gonna use Netflix.”

“Uh, obviously?” Axel replied, triple checking to make sure that there wasn’t any random embarrassing junk in the living room. “Why?”

“Axel. You’re gonna Netflix and chill. I’m so proud of you, my baby bird is finally leaving his nest.”

“You’re the worst friend I’ve ever had.” There was a knock on the door, and Axel froze. “I gotta go, he’s here.”

“There should still be condoms under the c-” Hanging up on Joey had never felt so good.

***

“Okay but like, what I wanna know is, if they clocked the T-Rex going like 30 miles an hour in the last movie, and she couldn’t catch a jeep, how come she can’t catch a single one of these people running away from her on foot in this one??? She’s been hunting wild for years, get your head in the game, girl!”

Axel might be a wee smidge drunk.

In his defense, Owen hadn’t come bearing beer, he’d brought whiskey. Whiskey with honey in it, that tasted amazing with the coke he had left in the fridge. He’d had almost an entire Flanigan’s cup already. Next to him on the couch, Owen laughed. He’d lost his boots during the second half of the first Jurassic Park, and currently had his legs slung over the arm, the bottle he was drinking from on the floor. He was using one of Axel’s stupid Star Wars pillows so that his head was propped up enough for him to actually see the TV.

“Jeff Goldblum is a shitty dad.” He said, words muffled a little by the way BB-8 was pressing against his cheek. “Also doesn’t he have like, three kids? I thought he said he had three kids. Where are the other two?”

“Safe, somewhere that’s not an island filled with fucking dinosaurs!” Axel yelled that last part, causing his downstairs neighbor to throw something hard at the ceiling. “Sorry, Mrs. Oberman!” He went to take a long sip from his cup, finding it empty. “Oh...shit...I should probably like. Get some water. You want some water?” His legs buckled as he tried to stand, sending him toppling back down to the couch with a surprised yelp. BB-8 slipped out from under Owen’s head as he laughed at him some more, reaching over to pat Axel on the arm.

“Chill, young padawan. Gimme your cup, I’ll get you some water.” Owen didn’t seem to have any trouble sitting up and walking around, the bastard.

“Why aren’t you drunk?” Axel demanded, taking his cup back with a frown. Owen just shrugged.

“I’m twice your size and give my liver regular workouts?” A good point. “You wanna pause this hot mess and go to bed?” Axel frowned. It was barely past midnight.

“You gonna be okay getting home? It’s late, and all.”

A look passed over Owen’s face, something that later, after a few aspirin and a shower, Axel would be able to identify as nerves. “I was actually thinking maybe I could...crash here? I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, promise.”

“If only all my dates were so nice.” Axel said dryly, then yelped in a very different kind of surprise. “Joking! Okay cool, goodnight!”

But again when he tried to stand, his legs refused to cooperate only this time, he fell directly into Owen’s lap, sitting sideways on his knees like some kinda princess. 

I’d like to die now please.

As though it was his default reaction to everything, Owen laughed.

“Hey hey, I’m not the kinda guy that expects multiple bases on the first date.” He was teasing him. Making fun of him. Awesome. “First base is perfectly fine. I’m honestly just happy to be up at bat.”

Or, maybe not.

“Was this a date?” Axel asked. He couldn’t rightfully tell, but his eyes felt huge. Disney-esque, even. Keep on the lookout for singing bluebirds, and shit. Owen didn’t stop grinning, though he did shake his head.

“I kinda wanted it to be like, the precursor to a date? Hang out, see if there’s more than just that ‘oh shit he’s cute’ vibe. And then my dad had to. Y’know. And it got real heavy real fast and-” Owen snapped himself out of his rambling before he got too far into it. “Anyway. Yeah. You’re cute, and you’re funny, and you’ve got good taste in music and movies. And I wanna know more about you, like what kinda toppings you like on your pizza, and where your ideal road trip destination would be, and what you look like when you get kissed senseless. But like I said,” Owen tilted his head just so, pecking a short kiss on the end of Axel’s nose. All of his freckles felt like they were glowing red-hot. “This wasn’t a date, and I like to think I’m the kinda guy that can wait until the first date to make a move.”

Oh. Oh, good lord. Oh man.

“O-Owen,” Axel started quietly, even as he felt his face get pinker and pinker. “I uh, I like black olives and sausage and extra cheese. And I wanna go to California some day, maybe check out Joshua Tree and Disneyland and LA, but hit the Grand Canyon and Vegas and Four Corners on the way there. And you uh, you already kissed me once, so like, maybe..?” He let out a nervous, helpless little giggle.

Owen snorted.

“What’s your last name?” He murmured, palms hot against Axel’s hips.

“W-Walker.” Axel stuttered, squirming when one of Owen’s thumbs found a ticklish spot on his side.

“Mine’s Mercer.” Owen replied, leaning in and pressing his lips a little too firmly against Axel’s. His scruffy little goatee was itchy, where it rubbed against his chin and lower lip.

Later, Owen would confess that he’d been trying to think of something suave and cool to say before kissing him. That he’d been worried that Axel would laugh at him, or hate the way his mouth felt, or a million other tiny anxieties that crawled through his brain whenever he got the opportunity to be with someone. Later, Axel would confess that he literally had no standards, because this was the first time he’d ever made out with anyone and if you asked him, Owen had done fine.

“Did we Netflix and chill?” Owen would ask the next morning, after they’d fallen asleep on the floor in a tangled heap of blanket and limbs and novelty pillows. And Axel would groan in return, from a combination of the intensity of his hangover, and Joey being right about something.

“Romance is dead.” He moans. And Owen would just laugh, kissing his forehead.

He disagrees.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Coldwave au idea: Lens life is better (dad is dead, mom stayed, etc) micks life worse. Their 1st meeting isnt big event for Len now but Mick is obsessed. Stalks him for right moment to have Len forever. Nabs Len. Makes Len his. Dark happy ending

I am so sorry, anon. I promise I will write you something nice and dark at some point. But I tried three times and every time I tried, it got fluffier and fluffier and fluffier until you have what you see below.

ao3 link (i.e. Harley Quinn fic 2)

   ———————————————————————————–

Lewis Snart is a corrupt cop with a sideline in Family work.

He’s also an incompetent thief, relying on suggestions from his nine year old son to fix his plans, but he refuses to admit such a thing. And so it is, when Len unexpectedly falls sick with a flu that robs him of his voice, he shrugs and does without.

He fails.

The Families have no patience for failure.

Lewis Snart is gunned down in his own house, before the horrified eyes of his son and his infant daughter.

Len’s foster home - both his and Lisa’s, a kind-hearted couple who fell for her golden curls and couldn’t bring themselves to tear her away from her sobbing elder brother - makes him get so much therapy.

That’s probably what makes him decide to become a shrink, really.

And that, in turn, is what leads to -

Well.

Everything else.

“- and that’s why I need your help,” Len concludes.

The woman in front of him looks utterly bewildered. Len’s not sure why; he thought he’d been perfectly clear.

“Should I start again?” he offers.

“Please do, mister,” she says, raising a hand up and pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, wait a sec. I gotta few preliminary questions, stating off with how’d you find out where me and Ivy were hanging out, anyways?”

“Really good fertilizer has a higher toxicity rate than normal soil,” Len explains. “I got the last two geological surveys, which Gotham gets with startling regularity; this was the only place that changed. Next question?”

“So that’s how Bats keeps finding us,” she mutters crossly. “Damnit, Ivy.”

“Maybe if you suggested she start a few new gardens each time instead of focusing on just one?”

“She doesn’t want to leave her ‘babies’ alone for that long. Second question: what in hell made you think that finding me ta ask for help was a good idea?”

Len blinks at her. “Why not? I have a problem and I need assistance from a colleague, and - as I said - you have the most expertise in -”

“I’m Harley Quinn, sweetie,” she interrupts. “I’m a supervillain.”

“What, and you stopped having your PhD as a result?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve had my license revoked,” she says helplessly.

“Don’t mean you got a lobotomy and forgot it all.”

“Fair enough,” Harley says, clearly giving up on convincing him. “So, yeah, start again, I wasn’t listening on account of thinking you was nuts. What’s your issue again? And why am I the best person to help you?”

“Okay,” Len says. He wouldn’t be as good a shrink as he is if he wasn’t patient and willing to go over things multiple times. “I’m a licensed psychiatrist specializing in severe disorders among the criminal population -”

“Same as I was,” Harley agrees.

“Yeah, and also like you, I specialize in self-identified supervillains.”

“Tell me you didn’t get a job at Arkham!” she exclaims, horrified.

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Len assures her. “I work in Central City.”

“I guess that’s better…”

“Debatable. At least Gotham has an asylum, even if it is Arkham. We just have Iron Heights regular wing and Iron Heights supervillain wing. Not ideal for therapy, even once they’re out.”

“Out?”

“Iron Heights is something of a revolving door,” Len says. “Again, much like Arkham, but more urgent in the exit strategies. Honestly, in my view, it’s all for the best that they get out; most of my patients are definitely not being helped by confinement in a frankly abusive situation by people who don’t understand their particular needs -”

“No kidding,” Harley replies enthusiastically. “Even Arkham doesn’t care, it’s more about tryin’ ta keep ‘em from society than it is about actually taking care of ‘em and trying to make 'em better -”

“Exactly,” Len exclaims, nodding. He knew she’d understand. “The interaction of the superhero culture with the particular neuroses of these individuals results in -”

“- an entirely new pathology, necessitating by definition a different form of treatment -”

“This is why I came to you,” Len says, pleased.

Harley paused, flushing a little. “Well, I guess I do still take somethin’ of an interest. So you treat supervillains?”

“I actually have a rather unorthodox approach,” Len says. “Central City supervillains are often using their supervillainy to work through deep-seated issues - one is dealing with the loss of a younger brother he built much of his identity around, another is a clinical narcissist, yet another is a diagnosed pyromaniac with anxiety issues…”

“Yeah? You getting anywhere with 'em?”

“Actually, yes. In contrast to the traditional approach, which emphasizes care in a clinical setting - one that many of them reject rather, uh, forcefully due to various traumas in their pasts - I’ve taken an alternative approach of working on their issues in their own setting.”

Harley pauses mid-nod. “I know that’s a pretty common technique for patients in regular treatment, mixing with them in their own environments and whatnot,” she says cautiously. “But for these guys - ain’t their own setting supervillainy?”

“It is,” Len says steadily.

Harley holds out a little longer, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” she says. “How’re you treatin’ 'em?”

“They’ve created identities as supervillains, and they want to be recognized as supervillains,” Len explains. “It’s important to them. They form entire coping rituals around it. So I meet with them on their own level, acknowledging and respecting them as supervillains.”

“Won’t that require, uh, you being a super, too?”

Len shrugs. “I explained my approach to the Flash - he’s our local cape - and he’s real reasonable about it. We staged a few fights, couple of thefts -”

“Wait. You’re a supervillain?!”

“Technically I’m just engaging in a police-approved therapeutic roleplay with -”

“What’s your name? Have I heard of ya? Tell me I’ve heard of you!”

“I mean, it’s possible -”

“Alias, now! I’m tired of being the only shrink supervillain.”

“Captain Cold.”

“Holy crap, I have heard of ya! You’re the - oh, man, the Rogues! The Rogues are your patients?”

Len nods.

“How?!”

“I 'rescued’ them from prison. Technically, I’m acting as a guarantee for their parole officers -”

“And ya keep 'em from killing anyone.”

“Exactly. And I work with 'em in the meantime. I’ve made a lot of progress - Pied Piper is actually transitioning to working with the heroes on a regular basis, he’s actually dating a cop now and he’s dealing with his internalized self-hatred in a much healthier way -”

“Nice,” Harley says, offering her hand for a high-five. “That’s much better; if Ivy or Ozzie asks what I was doing, I can just say supervillain meet-up.”

Len frowns. “Are they restricting your access to non-supervillain acquaintances?”

“No, no, nothing like that! We’re just dealing with a small infestation of Owls - don’t worry about it; you don’t want to get involved in Gotham’s shit. No one does. Anyway. Tell me about the problem.”

“It’s not really - he’s not - it’s not a problem, really.”

Harley’s eyebrows go up pointedly and she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“Mick Rory,” Len confesses. “Heatwave, our pyromaniac - diagnosed, as I mentioned, and working with a traditional shrink as well as with me. He’s working real hard on getting better, but it’s tough – it’s a long-standing issue. He’s had the pyromania and anxiety since childhood, and then his parents died in a fire and he got blamed, and then things went downhill from there, so you can imagine the rest.”

Harley nods. “Sounds knotty,” she agrees.

“He’s making plenty of progress, though,” Len assures her.

“So what’s the problem?”

“He’s – well. He’s developed something of a crush on me,” Len admits.

“Ooooh boy.”

“No, it’s - it’s not like that. It’s cute. He tries to stalk me sometimes.”

“Stalking ain’t cute, buddy. Trust me.”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s, like, he hides behind lampposts. He pretends to be reading a newspaper, like that hides his face at all. Stuff like that, it’s absurd. And if I ever tell him not to follow me, he doesn’t.”

“So you haven’t asked him to knock it off generally?”

Len hesitates.

“Yep, that’s what I thought,” she says. “So lemme stop you right where you are: no. Don’t do it. Falling for a patient isn’t just ethically wrong, it’s - well. It’s a bad idea. Trust me.”

“That’s why I came to you, actually,” Len says. “You being the ultimate expert in HQS and all.”

“HQS?”

Len coughs.

“…tell me that don’t stand for Harley Quinn Syndrome.”

“If you don’t want me to tell you, I won’t. Won’t change it, though.”

“Oh jeez. I can’t believe it. You know, when I wished on my twenty-first birthday candle to go down in the history books, I ought’ve been more specific.”

Len shrugs sympathetically.

“So what do you need advice in? How not to fall for your patient?”

“That,” Len says grimly, “or else I’m gonna need to give you a referral so that he won’t be my patient anymore.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Harley says. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Harls?” Mick says into his phone. “You got a minute?”

“For you, sweetie, definitely,” she says. There’s the ripping sound of duct tape and the yelling in the background turns into muffled shouting. “What’s up?”

“I don’t wanna bug you if you’re doing something else…”

“Nah, no business or nothing. Spa day with the Sirens, fucking up some bad guys, but the girls have got it covered. Talk to me, baby. You sound upset.”

“I think I’ve done it again,” Mick says sadly.

“Gonna have to be more specific, sparky. Lit a serious fire? Went mano-a-mano with the Flash? Decided to blow up a building?”

“I kidnapped Len and moved him into my basement so we could be together forever.”

“Mick!”

“I left the door open, though,” Mick says earnestly. “I didn’t want him feeling confined or nothing.”

Harley face-palms. Mick can hear it. “Well, that’s something,” she says. “You know he loves you, right?”

“I know he thinks he does…”

“That’s just your anxiety talkin’. He’s dating you because he wants to be with you. S’why he referred you ta me. Tell me, did you at least leave him the key, too?”

“What key?”

“…didn’t you lock him up?”

“No! You know how Len feels about being stuck and unable to get out of places.”

“So you kidnapped him, took him to your basement, and…left him there with the door open and not tied up?”

“I made him dinner, too?”

“…you know what? I’m gonna call this progress. Now, I need you to go sit down and write about what your day was like so we can try to identify what led you to this decision…”

[reactingtosomething]

Reacting to The Old Guard

She Is Not In Any Way Playing

The Setup: It’s our first Reaction to a comic book! And it’s not from the Big Two! Written by Greg Rucka (Wonder Woman, Gotham Central, Black Magick) and drawn by Leandro Fernandez (Punisher MAX, The Incredible Hulk, Deadpool & Cable) -- a duo who previously collaborated on Wolverine and Queen & Country -- The Old Guard is about (mostly) immortal warriors who can trace their lives back through Napoleon’s attempted invasion of Russia, the Crusades, and the conquests of Alexander the Great. They’re led by Andromache of Scythia, but you can call her Andy.

Andy’s fought and fucked, loved and loathed her way across thousands of years and at least six continents, and she is tired. So when a seemingly routine rescue mission goes way off the rails, and just a few hours later her team learns that -- contrary to what they’ve believed for a century or two -- they’re not the last immortals left after all, Andy has to find out if she can still surprise a world that she didn’t realize could still surprise her.

Kris, who briefly studied ancient military history in college, really liked Rucka’s Batwoman: Elegy and his webcomic Lady Sabre & The Pirates of the Ineffable Aether, so when he learned about The Old Guard he asked Marchae -- a BIG fan of Rucka’s Lazarus -- if she’d want to react to it.

Two spoiler notices below, but until the jump it’s just first-issue stuff.

KRIS: So we’ve both read some Greg Rucka before

I don’t think I’m an expert, but I’m fairly aware of at least the range of his work

MARCHAE: I am a HUGE fan of at least one of his comics!!!

KRIS: And he seems to be One of the Good Ones re: male feminist writers

MARCHAE: YES I absolutely agree and spent even more time thinking about that as I read The Old Guard

and this notion that I have about “super heros”

but also I like some of the things he examines in his works, at least what I’ve read

KRIS: Oh good I think we’ve all wanted to hear more from you about your theory of superheroes, so definitely feel free to get into that when it’s relevant

MARCHAE: LOL

I definitely will talk more that’s for sure - and especially since I’m reading Jessica Jones at the moment

KRIS: Also I really like how distinctive most of the faces in this are, just wanted to say that upfront although I am not super qualified to discuss the art

MARCHAE: So I’ve spent some time making connections between what I’m currently reading , a traditional comic, versus the indie books

Neither am I - but the art is gorgeous

KRIS: OH and for our readers who may not be super into comics (yet), maybe we should say how we’re reading

I’m using the Comixology reader on their website, in Guided View mode

MARCHAE: And I use an app from my public library called Hoopla

I also use  a guided view mode - however I definitely prefer hardcopies

KRIS: I like Guided View a lot, although occasionally you lose some of the impact of splash pages, and there are very rarely (but especially with older comics) sequencing errors

ANYWAY sorry tangent

MARCHAE: I am reading newer ones mostly, it definitely feels more cinematic to me reading it electronically.

I like it a lot especially for fast paced ones like The Old Guard

like an action film

KRIS: But I wanted to just get it out there that there are good accessible digital ways to read comics, which is often more affordable, and also for some reason Amazon is selling a bunch of Marvel comics at massive discounts

Yes! Thank you for getting us back on track -- the action layouts here are great

MARCHAE: Affordable and FREE!

and you’re welcome!

I am a newbie to comics- I’ve only been reading them for a year maybe less - and I am obsessed with how much I can relate to them from a screenwriting perspective in terms of sequencing and layout. In this weird abstract way. This was one of the best one’s I’ve read in a while in terms of the pacing with layout - and I love it. I actually started re-reading the book just to gawk at the art etc

KRIS: Oh you should check out Rucka’s web comic Lady Sabre and the Pirates of the Ineffable Aether [see above] -- it was like the equivalent of a page or so twice a week, and Rucka’s script for each entry was included

MARCHAE: **GASPS**

KRIS: I always mean to really break down and study a comic book or two but just like with studying TV, I end up being too lazy, and just hoping I’ll absorb lessons through sheer osmosis

MARCHAE: LOL -

I have studied the dialogue

I think more closely than anything

although I really need to study their structure

KRIS: That’s interesting

I would not guess that most comics writers do dialogue as well as Rucka

MARCHAE: It’s something about these short bursts of dialogue that kind of flow with the quick images we get that makes sense to me… I’ve read a couple that I really prefer

KRIS: I’m interested in how comics people obviously think in “shots”

MARCHAE: Revival is good and so is Alex and Ada … it shouldn’t come as a surprise that they are super character driven

KRIS: and I think a lot of screenwriters don’t

MARCHAE: YEAH

KRIS: or aren’t necessarily really well trained to

MARCHAE: It is fascinating when you think about because there are SO MANY correlations between the two

because as screenwriters and movie makers we end up having to think like comic writers when we get to the storyboarding portion of the work

which i guess is more of a production function

but

KRIS: Right, it should be super obvious, and we do get TOLD to think in shots but there’s still such a division (at least in our film school experience) between learning to write and learning to tell stories visually

MARCHAE: I feel like with comics the action - even  in some of the not as good ones I’ve read is all about taking you to that next shot

EXACTLY!!!

KRIS: Honestly this is one of my very favorite parts in the whole book, just as a visual storytelling beat:

MARCHAE: I was grateful that I had the experience of reading comics at least near the end of my time in school… i did take a lot of lessons from the comics

OHHH

tell me why

KRIS: I think a lot of the impact for me was in the guided view

The panel before this is Booker trying to talk Andy into the mission: “He says there are kids involved, Andy. Kids.”

Then in GV you get everyone looking at Booker, and you can linger on that panel

MARCHAE: The guided view makes a tremendous difference!

it feels like a moving image

KRIS: Then the next panel makes you sort of realize that it’s not really “everyone” looking at one person, but Joe and Nico looking back and forth between the new guy and the boss

although I guess you don’t get the “new guy” information until later

MARCHAE: Exactly

KRIS: Yes! The movement is there, and can have this weird interaction with how long you can linger in a single shot

But I guess what I like about this page is how the visuals help establish the relationships even without Andy’s exposition

MARCHAE: And i feel like you should be able to tell the story without the words

some of my favorites were the panels without words period

I especially love the first few pages

KRIS: Yeah, and in a nutshell that’s what comics writers are trained to do and what a lot of screenwriters (including me!) are often too precious about their own dialogue to internalize

MARCHAE: its just a few bits of inner dialogue

(side note your dialogue is beautiful!!!)

KRIS: Yeah but I didn’t become a playwright

MARCHAE: YESSSSSS

KRIS: ^That spread is so amazing and efficient

MARCHAE: YESSS  and YESSS

those were my favorites

oh my word and its just pretty

KRIS: It’s not even a really dense two-page spread by any means and there are only like 30 words on it

But it tells us so much about Andy

MARCHAE: I’m looking at it now on my device and its in guided view - so it shows up as each individual panel

YES!

KRIS: Right

MARCHAE: and I’m hooked from the beginning and that’s what I think makes this story effective and invests you in it

Rucka does this with my favorite comic - Lazarus

also

KRIS: She’s a warrior, she’s been around forever, she’s bi, she’s tired, she doesn’t have a lot of meaningful human connection in her life

MARCHAE: And we get that quickly

and efficiently

KRIS: and obviously the sense of repetition

in her day-to-day (century-to-century)

MARCHAE: thats been going on for centuries

[SPOILERS throughout below]

KRIS: Oh sorry did you want to say more about Lazarus

MARCHAE: It’s okay -

I was just going to say that there are some definite similarties between the two books

Specifically just the idea of strong female protagonists who are capable and leaders

and also the notion of these women dodging death

All. the. time!

I thought it was interesting to have read and to be a HUGE fan of both books now

and think critically about what he means to demonstrate and also why i consider the woman he portrays more heroic than other “heroes”

that was a long rant LOL

sorry

KRIS: And there’s a quietly great line in chapter 2 about how everyone just defaulted to Andy being the leader because she was the oldest, so it was obvious

MARCHAE: Yes I remember that

KRIS: And I haven’t really thought about this, but it’s interesting and I’m assuming very deliberate that the oldest and the youngest leads are the women

But so matter-of-factly

MARCHAE: Yes - I did note that and remember being worried for Andy and what it meant later on in the series

and also the conflicts that we could expect to see in the future books

I think it’s smart  honestly and kind of this mentorship that also gets to happen between the two women

we know that historically women have a difficult time finding mentors so I guess it is great to see it demonstrated in this medium

I think we’ll eventually see some bickering between the two , but ultimately a respect which is also not often depicted in other medium as much as I feel like it should be

KRIS: I’ll save it for a little later but I did screenshot that great (affectionate) bickering toward the end

MARCHAE: YES!

KRIS: We often write these in a way that sort of assumes the reader knows at least generally what we’re talking about but maybe we should try explaining a little about at least the main character relationships here

MARCHAE: That’s true - especially considering this is our first time reacting to a comic book

KRIS: Oh my god wait I just want to show this page transition I didn’t pick up on in Guided View

MARCHAE: I was trying to find a good article that listed the main concept with characters (mostly because I need to know how to spell andy’s real name)

KRIS: The color palette!

MARCHAE: It’s beautiful I liked these panels

KRIS: They only say Andy’s whole name twice but it’s not the same both times!

MARCHAE: I have this weird way that I read them… 1. for story. 2. art with story 3. only with art

KRIS: Oh interesting

MARCHAE: even the layout is nice

KRIS: I’m not much of a re-reader (or re-watcher) but I should be

MARCHAE: I don’t generally - but because I am so used to reading “regular books” I have to almost get the story then go back so I can appreciate the art with the story

then just the art cause #pretty

KRIS: Oh man I sidetracked us again

OK so

Andy!

MARCHAE: its okay really theres is a lot here to talk about actually!!!

Yes, Andy short for Andromeda?

I think

KRIS: I THINK Andromache is what her name is supposed to be, since that’s what the Comixology store “logline” uses

MARCHAE: YES

KRIS: and that’s what Booker calls her

MARCHAE: I was all off LOL

KRIS: but when she tells Nile an issue or two earlier, she says Andronika

which I’m assuming is just a continuity mistake on someone’s part

MARCHAE: I am now curious if it changes with the time

KRIS: and maybe a reprint will correct it

MARCHAE: like each century she modifies it?

yes but she’s centuries old

and most important

KRIS: But I got the sense that we were given everyone’s “true” name at least once

MARCHAE: Immortal - she can’t die - at least she’s not able to right now

KRIS: So “Andy” is her modern day shorthand and maybe in the 1800s it was something else, but Andromache is her birth name

MARCHAE: yeah! that’s my deduction at least

KRIS: So Andromache means “battle of a man”

(I think Andronika would mean something like victory of a man?)

MARCHAE: I love your to the minute, on the spot research!

KRIS: Well Andromache I knew because I briefly studied Greek in undergrad and have always been a little bit of an Ancient Greek Stuff nerd

What I’m not sure of is in what sense “battle” is being used

MARCHAE: are the names from the same era?

I guess it could be two fold

KRIS: Like, is it a battle as in an event, or is it in the sense of “she’s got fight like a man”

MARCHAE: Oh i was going in a different direction!!!

wow

yours is probably more appropriate LOL

KRIS: Andromache is at least as old as the Odyssey

MARCHAE: I was thinking more of “battle of a man” - as in battle against one’s self

KRIS: Oh interesting

MARCHAE: like man against man conflict which i suppose is fitting considering that she’s somewhat immortal

KRIS: oh I meant the Iliad -- Andromache is the wife of Hektor

MARCHAE: OH YEAH

Also thinking of “battle of a man” to mean battle of time and life

we always want to live longer, better, never die

KRIS: I don’t know much at all about Arabic so I don’t know how old Joe’s real name is, etymologically speaking

MARCHAE: and here Andy is wanting to be done

I loved that scene where introducing himself

KRIS: Yeah, that’s pretty classic

MARCHAE: and we get to Joe!

So I am checking an article and [the Newsarama interviewer] says Andy’s real name is Andronika

https://www.newsarama.com/33272-rucka-joins-the-old-guard-with-queen-country-artist-fernandez.html

(also side note I feel redeemed and a bit smart that he mentions some of the themes I pointed out and made similar comparisons! )

KRIS: OK skimming now

“John Wick meets Highlander”

That’s pretty great

MARCHAE: Truth!!

KRIS: Oh Black Magick I should link to that [see above]

MARCHAE: I haven’t read that one

KRIS: Anyway where were we?

MARCHAE: Ok we have digressed again! I guess a brief synopsis of the main characters

KRIS: Right right

So we have this 4-person mercenary team

MARCHAE: Right and they’ve been connected FOREVER it seems like

KRIS: Led by [Andronika/Andromache?] Andy, who is literally biblically old

MARCHAE: Well it doesn’t seem like - they have been together for ever

KRIS: Then Nico and Joe (Nicolo and Yusuf) who met during the First Crusade, so 1090s

And presumably they linked up with Andy sometime between the Crusades and the Napoleonic Wars, when we get Booker

MARCHAE: There is a lot of history here

KRIS: And there’s this stuff about how when a new immortal dies for the first time, other immortals (maybe within a certain range?) start having dreams about them

MARCHAE: and that’s how they are introduced or at least made aware that they will be meeting someone new? did I read that correctly

KRIS: Yeah

MARCHAE: HA - I misread your text LOL

I literally rephrased what you said LOL

KRIS: Andy had to figure it out the first time it happened, like the dream doesn’t spell anything out for them

MARCHAE: They are often killed or incredibly injured during their battles and they heal themselves which is how they discover ultimately that they are immortal

for a spell at least

KRIS: Oh there are some GREAT “match cuts” in this

There’s a really good one in the Nico/Joe origin story

MARCHAE: OH YEAHHHHHH

KRIS: 

But that whole sequence is great

MARCHAE: I loved the twist there

KRIS: So yeah sorry for our readers my mental leap isn’t obvious, but this is preceded by a couple pages of Joe and Nico during the Crusades repeatedly killing each other

MARCHAE: I sent over a few screen shots hopefully they will come through…

The book definitely has a distinct aesthetic that’s for sure

KRIS: It’s mostly serious but lightly comic, like they just don’t question it, like okay yeah I guess I’ll just kill you again

Oh getting your screenshots now

Yes the faces (again)! You can see the modern Nico and Joe even under all the facial hair

MARCHAE: you mentioned my idea of hero

KRIS: Yes

MARCHAE: and your point “it’s mostly serious but lightly comic”

that’s the thing… saving lives/the world is a serious thing

these people have real problems that are connected usually to slightly dystopia ideas of our current world

I feel like with more mainstream comics we are in some alternate reality all together and the people are trying to be funny and trying to save the world and trying to be cool…

I feel like in Rucka’s books (and also a few other’s I read) it’s rooted in something that i can grasp and their problems are real

so in this text it’s when does my suffering end

in a book like lazarus it’s why won’t my family love me

and it’s not in this over the top let me fly all over the place and shoot missiles out of my hands kind of way

it’s serious

it’s business

KRIS: But I think tonal variation is a good thing

for the genre and the industry

Like a lot of the recent DC movies are SUPER SERIOUS on a surface level, but they’re not necessarily handling ideas in an intellectually rigorous way

MARCHAE: I absolutely agree I guess in a world I could see myself being saved by someone who is more similar to Andy than say Captain America

I think that’s the thing I like is that it is this exploration of more complex ideas in these types of comics and I feel more connected to the work

it’s more accessible

KRIS: And even though the Marvel movies are lighter, and not SUPER thematically driven, they’re relatively smart about the thematics they do include

See I think most people would say Marvel’s tone is more accessible

But I think you might mean accessible in a different way

MARCHAE: LOL hence the mega fafillion dollar industry

KRIS: Like you’re looking for something concrete to latch onto

MARCHAE: I think I agree with you there - I want a take-away

KRIS: And I think the Iron Man tone is more “here is a world that speaks the language you speak with your friends” in a generalized sense

MARCHAE: I can give you that…

the more mainstream comics make the business of saving the world seem less serious

I also am a lover of drama and heavy topics so I think there is also the attraction - these people don’t always feel like they have be “on” to me

they are trying to make it

and that I can relate to!

KRIS: I think that’s because “saving the world” isn’t REALLY what they’re about, though, to the extent that they’re about something

I think at some point, maybe with all four of us, I do want to talk more about the difficulty you have with comedy

MARCHAE: It’s like an intervention LOL

KRIS: No! Well maybe a little. But it’s so ingrained for you that I think I also just want to understand

Maybe when we eventually return to Sweet/Vicious, which I still really want to do

MARCHAE: comedy is truly a challenge for me with the exception of a few - but even those make a larger statement in my opinion!

we do need to finish S/V

KRIS: I’d also like to see you and Keely talk about comedy

ANYWAY

We should talk about Nile

MARCHAE: that might be fun - Keely and I have talked about why I like her brand of comedy best…

OK NILE

KRIS: So Nile is an American Marine

in a Female Engagement Team in Afghanistan

MARCHAE: I absolutely adore her

she’s the “youngest�� immortal

KRIS: So at first I didn’t realize she didn’t know she was immortal

For some reason I assumed she had abandoned the team at some point

MARCHAE: OHHHH

KRIS: But then she becomes our (great) audience surrogate

MARCHAE: Which is why I like her - she’s new- but it’s clear she’s competent

and is legit just trying to understand “what the heck is going on here”

KRIS: Yeah, and she gets to push back a lot when Andy is like “don’t worry about it”

But never in a way that sells out either of their characters

I feel like so often the “new one” is obnoxious

or the “old one” is a tired “Asshole with a Heart of Gold” trope

MARCHAE: Agreed! it is very organic and you can believe in them… but also it establishes what the relationship can be

I also think that because we know that eventually these people run out of “changes” to live - I almost felt like we are operating on a clock

ticking clock*

it ramped up the tension for me when reading  - my mind was legit going a mile a min.

KRIS: And it’s this female friendship that never really leans on “the women! they are alike and get along because they are women!” but also doesn’t completely pretend gender doesn’t matter

Oh man that freaked me out when Andy shot herself to convince Nile

I was like “WHAT IF THIS IS THE ONE, ANDY WHAT ARE YOU DOING”

MARCHAE: YESSS

Because she doesn’t know when the one will be

that’s what makes me nervous about this entire series …

KRIS: The moment when they find Booker [temporarily] dead was amazing to me

MARCHAE: like antsy and I like the characters so it’s worse LOL

KRIS: Andy’s narration is like “he’s the youngest, if he’s really dead it would be so unfair”

And we’re trained to THINK that means “unfair because he was so young”

But then there’s the reversal of “unfair to ME (Andy)”

MARCHAE: Right! But he isn’t young at all - none of them are except for Nile

it kind of plays with your mind when you put into context that one of them is 5000 years old? did I read that or am I making that up - either way it’s insane

But there is also this entertainment of how in real life we all want to live forever, Andy is ready to kick the can

KRIS: Yeah in the last issue Andy says she’s over 6000

so the others are ALL babies compared to her

MARCHAE: yet they don’t ACTUALLY live forever at all

geesh i was off by 1000 years

good googley-moogley

KRIS: haha

So we get what becomes, by a little bit, our central relationship between the oldest woman in the world and the youngest woman on the team

MARCHAE: I love that! LOVE LOVE LOVE IT!!!

KRIS: although the book really does manage to make all the relationships pretty robust

Nico and Joe are our romance, and where a lot of our humor comes from

MARCHAE: The majority of it actually… and they are some deep relationships

KRIS: Andy and Booker obviously have a lot going on because of her dependence on his tech savvy and then The Twist

MARCHAE: (but this isn’t unusual for Rucka which is why I’m #obsessed and why he was my entrance into comics)

KRIS: I loved how the running joke of Andy’s inability to learn new tech ends up becoming a totally serious, really important story detail

MARCHAE: It actually does and it runs through the entire story

it’s smart and well thought out and incredibly problematic in our current world

KRIS: Only tangentially related but I really like how well the body language is rendered in this panel:

MARCHAE: and intentional on the writers part and what I’d imagine- if I were a 6000 years old hero - a real real problem

KRIS: Here’s a better one for the “joke” aspect

MARCHAE: LOL

KRIS: If you had that panel out of context it would be totally relatable for a lot of people

MARCHAE: she is so clueless - and it’s funny

KRIS: Although maybe with relatives who don’t look as young as Andy does

MARCHAE: Oh god I know all too well!!!

It’s also funny because she’s so on top of it in every other area of the job

I want more of her backstory too - I am so curious - I’ve already downloaded the other book

KRIS: which other book?

I love her

MARCHAE: I misread - I just looked and it doesn’t exist LOL

😟 sad face

I was curious about what your thought were about the exploration of being immortal

or mostly immortal

KRIS: I mean personally I still find the idea of death terrifying, maybe because I’ve never really dealt with it yet

So I’m kind of in the “yes we should try to become immortal” camp most days

And I tend to feel that the idea that immortality would ultimately be boring or soul-crushing is kind of a self-serving one, to make us feel better about mortality

BUT

I think this is a really good exploration of it

MARCHAE: interesting!

KRIS: The speech Booker gives to Nile about why she shouldn’t contact her family is really really good

MARCHAE: and kind of sad I loved it (not because it was sad, but because it was good)

KRIS: And Andy’s ultimate epiphany -- she doesn’t want to die, she wants something to live for again -- is really simple in the best way

And it’s also really sad, and I think mostly unremarked upon, that it takes Booker betraying the team for Andy to realize that the team is what she has to live for

MARCHAE: yeah…. she’s incredibly melancholy to me and I like that she’s wanting to push again

they are her family

KRIS: And it’s great that part of how Nile pushes the change in Andy’s mindset is very specifically “millennial” -- she’s always hustled, she’s worked a bunch of jobs briefly and picked up a bunch of random skills

in a way that’s convenient to the plot but doesn’t feel TOO Convenient

MARCHAE: Exactly - I could believe and buy into each and every single character

KRIS: Everything about Nile is like, That’s So Real

MARCHAE: I wanted to be on the team by the end of it

even the emotions that Andy experiences

there is a lot of hurt …maybe that imitates from the page

A lot of it is in her inner dialogue, the panel placement and the colors

but you feel for her

and you want her to win and win hard

KRIS: So hard

It was amazing to me that they actually fit a Booker redemption arc into this

and it works because of Andy’s feelings

MARCHAE: they do! A lot rides on the protagonist here - And what I think is amazing is that she carries so much of the tone for what we experience over the story - because of her we are able to buy the rest of them

I think if we had been led by anyone else it might not have been as effective

KRIS: It’s very successful at being clearly led by one character but still having a really strong “ensemble” feel

And that first issue and a half have to do so much heavy lifting to establish the team relationships so we buy the motivations when they spend most of the rest of the story separated

MARCHAE: It really is amazing from a storytelling standpoint

I could see the movie adaptation as I was reading it

Its so well crafted

KRIS: I think this arc could actually work as a feature

MARCHAE: (have you read lazarus?)

KRIS: and not lose much detail

Not yet

MARCHAE: (KRIS!!!!!! THAT IS A FEATURE WAITING TO BE MADE)

(BUT KRIS READ IT STAT!!!)

And it would be beautiful to shoot those period scenes

KRIS: It would

(I just love the face drawing so much in this book)

MARCHAE: they are much more expressive than others  - I feel like other books Ive read are more sketch like

?

KRIS: This sequence was VERY cinematic too

Not in a spectacle way but just in a general visual storytelling way

with the elevator door

I feel like a lot of superhero books don’t bother making faces distinctive

MARCHAE: That bugs me too - I think it’s why i started reading them three times

KRIS: It can get especially ridiculous when people don’t bother drawing Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne differently from each other

The one issue I can think of in The Old Guard is that in the first issue, it wasn’t super clear to me that Joe was a man of color

And I feel like Andy’s skin tone was also a little variable, but it’s more or less obvious that she’s supposed to be from Somewhere In the Mediterranean

MARCHAE: I  didn’t entirely register that either until he said his name

I can agree with that too

I also get the impression that Nile is also likely a POC as well

KRIS: Nile for sure read to me as a black (or possibly multiracial) woman, I guess the color was just off in the first chapter

MARCHAE: it was refreshing to see a more diverse group of characters that’s for sure

KRIS: Oh shit my mistake I guess the Scythians (Andy) are of Iranian/Central Asian descent

Yes! Which was why I was so glad Joe turned out not to be white -- at first I was like “hmmm this is an oddly white book for someone as woke as Greg Rucka”

MARCHAE: OH NO WAY!! (Re Andy)

KRIS: I really should have known that from like freshman year classics courses

MARCHAE: You are much more well versed than I am in historical references  and I definitely don’t have a tremendous breath of the classics

KRIS: I guess we should talk about the action

It’s almost funny that we haven’t, much

This is very much an action story

MARCHAE: There is so much action that’s for certain and I LOVE IT

KRIS: And all of the set pieces are distinct

MARCHAE: I love seeing it on the page, the pacing of it, how the panels are set up and YES the set pieces!!!!

KRIS: Which is definitely something superhero comics struggle with

Guided View is GREAT for these layouts

MARCHAE: It works beautifully and makes the work fly

KRIS: There have to be some good interviews out there with comic artists about how that’s influenced their approach in the last several years

MARCHAE: like the action legitimately in this comic soared off the page in my opinion I wanted to be in it

that’s really interesting I’ll have to take a gander

KRIS: I do have to say, I wished Andy’s axe had come back

MARCHAE: YES! She’s fierce!

theres a cover where she’s flailing that axe

She’s powerful

the look on her face

even and her posture

I LOVE THIS IMAGE

KRIS: For our readers, that variant cover is by Nicola Scott, Greg Rucka’s collaborator on Wonder Woman: Year One

Yeah even though I’ll tag this as a spoiler post I won’t include the axe sequence, everyone should have to go read the book to see it

It’s short but awesome

MARCHAE: Its so unapologetic and that makes me happy as a woman!

(re the axe photo)

but to talk about action

I really liked this and how it looked!

KRIS: so good

The other standout for me was the Crusade battle -- the use of silhouettes in the night scene

MARCHAE: it reminded me of the old school batman TV show but also has this frantic feel to it like if you are in the room - the images move almost

KRIS: And the use of the BANGs in the background instead of within most of the panels is really interesting

MARCHAE: OHHHHH that’s a great one too

KRIS: literal background noise

MARCHAE: it reminds me of sound

AHHHH YESSSS!!!!

visual cacaphony

which i suppose is a bizarre pairing of words but the best i could come up with

KRIS: It conveys the chaos but also leaves the actual action layouts clear

MARCHAE: nothing is left to confuse the reader - which when I was a newer reader of comics was always confusing

KRIS: Oh here’s that great banter scene:

MARCHAE: these comics are new user friendly

KRIS: Definitely an advantage of indie books

MARCHAE: I like that one - laughed a few time reading this book like legit noise came out which doesn’t happen terribly often

KRIS: I mean I get it, if you’re writing Big Two characters, you want to reference the stuff you grew up with, it can’t be an easy balance to make it accessible to new readers and rich for longtime readers, but still, you can’t blame people for having trouble getting into most recent Marvel or DC stuff

Yeah I guess a way to describe how humor works best for you is that in a scene like this it’s like, cathartic?

Or it’s a release valve

You like it as punctuation, not as the baseline

MARCHAE: I can read it now but I tried starting with Hellboy and was like ABSOLUTELY NOT!

KRIS: Oh that’s interesting because isn’t Hellboy indie? Was it that you jumped into a late story arc?

MARCHAE: I am not sure… if it is… All i know is that it was a challenged to follow on the page

I think I started at the beginning?

Also YES! in regards to humor!!! It’s kind of like a sigh 😊

KRIS: I only know the movies but I’d believe it’s just a weird-ass book as a first comic

MARCHAE: I do not love humor as a baseline - ever generally

LOLOl

it was not a good first jaunt I didn’t finish it and sold it back and the comic book store owner was like what do you like - we chatted and he handled me Lazarus

and I’ve been hooked on the comics since and they all have the same tone save one that I like called Alex and Ada

We’ve digressed again

KRIS: yep

I’m just grabbing a link for Alex and Ada to put into the post [see above]

MARCHAE: yeah its drastically different in tone from what I generally read - but the characters and story were pretty good!

Also an Image comic if I’m not mistaking

KRIS: Yes

MARCHAE: Yup!

KRIS: (For readers: Image is a publishing house like DC and Marvel, but all of its books are creator-owned and independent of each other, rather than company-owned characters in a shared universe)

MARCHAE: Correct! The ones I’ve read seem incredibly character driven to me and tend to be more focused on themes and ideas

What else are we missing - I feel like we’ve covered so much with this one trade!

?

KRIS: I was just gonna ask you that

We haven’t really talked about the villain but I think that’s okay

Don’t want to spoil everything

We really want you to read it yourselves, everyone!

MARCHAE: I really hope people read this one!

Along with the others we’ve recommended!

KRIS: It’s very accessible if you’re new to comics, the art is clean and you won’t have trouble following it, and Greg Rucka is arguably one of the most acclaimed writers in comics right now so I promise it’s not a risky buy

although MM did you get it from the library, you said?

MARCHAE: I did using the Hoopla App but I will probably eventually buy it for my collection (I do have a comic collection and I keep them in plastic!)

KRIS: Should we talk about the ending? I can add another FOR REAL MAJOR SPOILERS warning around here

[the VERY END is briefly discussed below]

MARCHAE: Can i just say I was absolutely sad when it ended

I was mad indeed

but yes let’s

KRIS: I really liked it

MARCHAE: I think I just wanted the book to keep going LOL

KRIS: Oh for sure

But there’s just a lot of great storytelling in those few pages

Even just that first page in Malta

MARCHAE: And it really is a hero saves the day type deal and shows Nile and Andy working collaboratively

again the art is beautiful (I just sent another image let me know if you get it)

KRIS: Just got it

Yeah it’s such a hero shot

MARCHAE: The entire team really comes together!

KRIS: And the use of light is great

MARCHAE: (sent over another one)

KRIS: Yeah I don’t think I’ll include that in the post for spoilers’ sake but it’s a great page

I think the “zoom out” makes it

MARCHAE: but even the quote at the end is amazing: “ Soldiers live and wonder why”

and it perfectly encapsulates what this story is about thematically

why do they - survivors guilt

the desire to move forward and be better

the desire to end something peacefully and in your own time

KRIS: Glen Cook is a fantasy author you might like -- maybe check out The Black Company

MARCHAE: but you do want this story to keep going and be with these characters for much longer than the trade allows

I WILL!!!

KRIS: Someone’s adapting that series for TV, I forget who but I think for one of the premium cable channels

More great body language:

MARCHAE: http://deadline.com/2017/04/eliza-dushku-star-the-black-company-series-adaptation-david-goyer-im-global-1202076367/

There are so many interpersonal nuances in this book it was fun to look at

KRIS: I like that Nico is very clearly ignoring Joe here -- no word balloons, but it’s obvious that this is heated

and classic Andy not wanting to deal

MARCHAE: he’s turned away from him entirely

KRIS: (I love that I can say “classic Andy” after just five issues)

MARCHAE: LOLOLOL

she’s so unimpressed by the entire situation

probably mentally sighing

KRIS: So what do you think of the punishment?

MARCHAE: its kind of devastating I think for Booker - It also makes me curious about what time feels like for these people

KRIS: Yeah

MARCHAE: What does 100 years feel like when you’ve lived a fafillion years already

KRIS: They have no friends besides each other

You don’t even really get the sense that Booker sleeps around the way Andy does because the team is a liiiiittle bit judgey about it in #1

MARCHAE: LOL they kind of are!

and it would just be complicated - we see that with Andy and her relationship

it reminds me of the first book of a series i like called the discovery of witches

just that idea of engaging in a relationship with someone who is mortal you’re constantly reminded that you are too much - and that the person you are with will never be enough for you because they will perish

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8667848-a-discovery-of-witches

(the text is now being turned into a major television show)

KRIS: I really love that the last two pages have no dialogue

It’s not a long epilogue at all but it also doesn’t feel too abrupt because those last two pages are a really well done kind of fade-out

MARCHAE: it’s incredibly effective - just as much as the opening which had very little dialogue

KRIS: I mean, just to really drive this home for everyone, not that I think anyone missed this, but THE LAST LINE OF THE BOOK IS “you’re alone”

And it’s so simple, it’s not a Dramatic! scene at all, it’s so understated, and that’s why it lands so hard

Andy’s not a Dramatic! person

MARCHAE: and you absolutely know she means it and is not in any way playing with this man

KRIS: ANDY DOES NOT PLAY

MARCHAE: Almost like I’ve worked to hard to get us here  - I’m disappointed and i hate to do this but it has to be done

KRIS: It’s so good

This will probably not be our last comic Reaction. Marchae really hopes you read not just this but other Rucka work. In the meantime, follow us on Twitter!

[avengerdragoness]

Capable [Jason Todd x Reader]

Requested by anon: “Wow these angst prompts are already breaking my heart Hmm, I'm in a Jason mood so how about Jason with prompt number 3″ Requested by anon: “Could you do a batfam x reader with number 3 and 17 Like she's a new vigilante and everyone is super overprotective (plus she's dating Jason so he's even extra protective)”

Prompt 3: “Despite what many think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.” Prompt 17: “You’ll die and I can’t watch the person I love die.”

A/n: I think this is number foouur? Of the angst prompts? Idk but here it is. Hope you guys love it!

**By the way thank you @kamuithedragonlord for reading through this for me! You’re awesome!! <3

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Your bike screeched as you quickly pulled it into the cave. Kicking the kick stand down and swinging your leg over when idle. Anger and frustration rushed through your nerves as you stormed farther into the cave. Hearing the roar of the batmobile and the other’s bikes not far away. You threw your biker helmet off along with tearing off your mask, doing so while hearing them all pull in behind you.

“[F/n]!” Jason yelled as he pulled his bike to a halt, pulling his hood off. Turning to him you growled, “GO TO HELL! All of you!” eyes turning to the rest of his family standing there.

“[F/n] will you just listen? Come on!” Jason rushed over and grabbed your arm in order to stop you from storming off any farther. Yanking your arm away you whipped around to look at him, “DON’T fucking touch me!” Spitting venom at him.

You are straight pissed. Having started helping Bruce and the others after you began to date Jason. You used to live in Central City where you were affected by the particle accelerator. The dark matter had heightened all of your senses making you an amazing fighter. You worked as a vigilante in Central City helping team Flash before moving to Gotham due to your normal job relocating you. Barry had talked with Bruce allowing your continuance as [s/h/n] in Gotham. You met Jason when you moved and you both hit it off, once learning of each other’s identities, he and his family became extremely protective. Which ended with them stepping on your toes. Something Barry and the rest never did in Central City.

This is why you’re so pissed. You had been tracking this drug trafficking ring for weeks, it was your mission, your information, your bust. But the moment you went to make a move the Batfamily swooped in and took the whole thing down, leaving you to hang out to dry. They took the entire thing over so fast you didn’t even to take down a single person.

Leading to the current situation to you glaring daggers at your boyfriend. “I don’t want to fucking talk about it Jason! That was my bust! My mission! And you all just hijacked it! I swear you make me feel inferior on purpose!” Screaming at him. Jason was taken aback, he had now idea this was how you felt.

“[F/n]” he said, taking a step toward you. “I swear if you take another fucking step closer to me” threatening as he stopped.

“[F/n] we weren’t meaning to make you feel inferior, we just were going to help.” Tim tried to explain their reasoning but you just shook your head, not bothering to make eye contact with him. “Tt, [L/n] it’s not like you could’ve handled that yourself anyway.” Damian crossed his and you shot a glare at him scoffing. “Last time I checked neither could you, you’re still training for a reason demon brat.”

“[F/n] we just didn’t want you to get hurt is all.” Jason tried to reason but it only made you feel worse. “Oh really? Because I don’t see you all running off to Bludhaven when Dick has a mission, or when you’re tracking down Black Mask. Despite what many think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself. And if you can’t see that then being here, being with you Jason, it was all a mistake. And I’m done making mistakes.” Growling before turning your back and walking out of the cave.

You felt angry tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you stormed up into the Manor. Pulling on a jacket to cover your suit you were about halfway out the front door before you felt a grip on your arm, making you stop midstep. “[F/n]” Looking back to see Jason.

“I’m sorry” he tugged your arm to make you face him. “I never wanted to make you feel inferior. I just worry about you. If you go out there and take this all on alone, you’ll die and I can’t watch the person I love die.” He cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping away tears you hadn’t noticed were escaping your eyes. Though you were frozen because of his words, “You love me?”

Jason also realized what he said, allowing a smile to grace his face he nodded. “I do, I love you so much and that’s why I always want to step in, because if you ever got hurt when I could’ve prevented it, I couldn’t live with myself. I promise to not step on your toes anymore, just please, don’t leave me. I need you.” You could hear the strain in his voice. Just the thought of losing you made his heart clench in his chest.

Sniffling before letting out a sigh, “I love you too Jay.” He beamed before connecting his lips to yours in a soft kiss. “Want to get out of here?” he asked while pulling away to rest his forehead to yours. You nodded, whispering “Yeah, I’m tired.” Jason turned and grabbed is jacket from the coat rack, zipping it enough to hide the emblem in his chest. Taking your hand he leading you out of the manor and to his bike.

On the ride to your apartment he memorized the feeling of your arms around his waist and your head resting on his back. He allowed a small smile, thinking about how lucky he is. But also realizing how close he came to losing you tonight. That realization made him decide one thing, he will never allow himself to come that close to that line ever again.