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twistedtummies2 · 2 years ago

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Good & Evil - Villains

Welcome to Good & Evil: A Study of Heroes & Villains. I’m discussing different forms of heroic and villainous characters, different types of protagonists and antagonists, and providing examples of them each from various sources. Last time, I talked about the basic Hero archetype. So it only makes sense we follow up the most basic form of protagonist with the most basic form of antagonist, the Villain. Now, when I say “Villain,” I’m not talking about sympathetic villains, or noble villains, or other villains who you can feel sorry for or even greatly agree with on some level. They’re actually going to be a different category. I’m talking about VILLAINS, with a Capital V. These are the bad guys, plain and simple. These are the characters who do terrible things usually for no good reason at all. Sometimes they’re seeking money, sometimes they’re seeking power, sometimes they’re seeking retribution of some sort…sometimes, they’re just seeking sick pleasure. Whatever the motive and whatever the goal, the Villain is a truly despicable character, with little to no redeeming values to them as a person…and, oddly enough, we often love them for that exact reason. While there are some villains who are designed and rightfully notorious for being “Pure Monsters” - characters the audience reviles and loathes and wants to see punished with all their souls - I often find the best villains are those who can be described as characters we love to hate. It’s a fine line between the two, not easy to define, but I think most people agree that the most wonderful villains are those who, despite being such deplorable creatures, are somehow intriguing and even fun to watch. Sometimes it’s because they’re humorous, sometimes it’s because they’re so imposing, but no matter what the reason, they are eternally fascinating. But why? Why do Villains capture us with the same fervor Heroes do? Indeed, for many people - myself included - Villains are usually MORE interesting than the heroes they face. What makes us feel so drawn to these denizens of darkness? To answer that question, let’s look at a few “Capital V Villains” I feel typically exemplify this idea.

We’ll start this run with a character that many people on my page should be familiar with: Maleficent, from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty. In her initial appearance, Maleficent is not a terribly complex villainess: she is the Dark Fairy, an evil entity of spite and cruelty. She has no compunctions with placing a DEATH CURSE on an INNOCENT BABY just because SHE WASN’T INVITED TO THE FREAKING BIRTHDAY PARTY. Without getting into all the potential lore and politics involved, which I know fans LOVE to play with and theorize, that’s still a remarkably cruel and petty thing to do…but the extremes she goes to in the story, treating this simple snub like an act of war, are part of what make her fascinating. Maleficent is cold and heartless, but there are indications of something almost sad about her under the surface: she genuinely cares for her pet raven, Diablo, seeming horrified when the Three Good Fairies take him out, and treating him with a kindness and fairness she shows no other creature in the story. It’s also indicated that, under her malevolent facade, she’s actually somewhat lonely: “Maleficent doesn’t know anything about love, or kindness, or the joy of helping others,” one of her enemies points out. “You know, sometimes I don’t think she’s really very happy!” None of this excuses her actions, of course, but it creates an intriguing mystery about Maleficent, and it’s the mixture of mystery, intensity, and the sheer aesthetic power of the character - along with the equaled power of her voicework - that makes her so interesting.

On the note of mystery and empathy, as well as my favorite villains, let’s talk about arguably the greatest supervillain of all time, the Joker. Batman’s arch-enemy is a notorious poster child for a character who does terrible things basically just for the sheer Hell of it, yet remains enjoyable despite this. And keep in mind, the Joker’s crimes are some of the most heinous and horrible of arguably any fictional character: he beats a young boy to a pulp, till he’s on the brink of the abyss, and leaves him to die in an exploding warehouse; he shoots a young lady through the pelvis, paralyzing her for life, then takes photos of her naked body to help torture her father and try to drive him crazy; he shoots a police woman trying to save a number of innocent babies he’s planning to massacre through the head for really no good reason at all; the list goes on and on. As if the crimes themselves weren’t bad enough, many of these actions have far-reaching consequences, and while some of these characters eventually overcome the mental and physical wounds the Joker leaves behind, the scars themselves never truly fade.

What makes the Joker so fascinating is a combination of several elements. One is the fact we don’t really know his true past; in the comics, at least, his true origin has never been firmly established. And even with the more tragic depictions of his history, they do not excuse his hideous actions in any way. Another element is his philosophy, which becomes disturbingly easier to empathize with as time goes on. The Joker sees the world as a dark, cruel, chaotic place; he believes that goodness is false, that justice and morality are a bad joke, that all the things people conventionally value and desire are complete and total nonsense. So he openly gives up rationality and ethics, embracing madness and sadistic pleasure with gleeful abandon. While his evil deeds are hardly laudable, the bitterest amongst us can unsettlingly see where he’s coming from. His dark sense of humor is the last big point: the Joker is a character who makes you enjoy awful things right alongside him...then you stop and realize what you’re laughing at, and you wonder just what’s wrong with you, in turn.

On the note of philosophy and empathy, some villains use this as a smokescreen. The audience is fully aware that they are terrible people, but the character is able to use such things to their advantage, making themselves seem better than they really are. Perhaps the most popular example of this is Emperor Palpatine from the Star Wars saga. Palpatine doesn’t exactly hide his evil: he dresses in a dark hooded cloak, has creepy yellow eyes, and so on. But he’s an exceptionally crafty manipulator: he uses his advanced age as a blind, making people believe he’s not as dangerous as he really is, and knows how to appeal to the better nature of other people. He toys with Anakin Skywalker’s emotions, turning him to the Dark Side with sinister ease; he paints himself as someone seeking peace and order, when really, all he wants is power and death. He’s able to fool people using words of goodness, steadily gaining power through diplomatic means, but he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He makes himself seem empathetic to the world around him, making it harder for people to know the true monster he really is till they experience it firsthand.

Some villains are deceiving in other ways; they don’t really try to justify their actions to the world, but they still manage to trick the audience or other characters around them. The Major from Hellsing is, at first glance, not the most dangerous of dastardly demons. In a world of vampires, ghouls, monster hunters, and so on, he is - at least at first impression - not only deceptively human, but deceptively unthreatening. He’s rotund, not especially tall, nearly always wears a jolly smile, and often behaves more like a merry gentleman than a cold-hearted animal. He’s not even a very good fighter! However, under this unimposing surface, the Major is the single most evil and most repugnant creature anyone could ever meet: a warmonger of the highest order, he wants nothing more than to spread carnage and bloodshed, simply for its own sake. He doesn’t want profit or power out of it, he just wants to see war happen because he LOVES war. He wants to see people fight and die and struggle and suffer for no other purpose than its own bloody existence. A meaningless, brutal war that has no real reason to happen other than for him to, quite bluntly, get off on it. And while he has no great powers of his own, his charisma and intelligence allow him to make such a thing happen with frequently gory consequences.

Of course, some villains are neither empathetic nor deceiving in any way, shape, or form. Freddy Kruger - the main antagonist of the “Nightmare on Elm Street” series of horror films - is, to be blunt, a sick freak with no redeeming qualities at all, when you really look at him. He is utterly unrepentant in his villainy, and his crimes are some of the most hideous and gut-sickening sorts of all time. He’s a former child killer, and a presumed bad seed, “the bastard son of a hundred maniacs.” After being rightfully destroyed by his victims’ families, he refuses to die, and becomes a dream-traveling monster who enjoys tormenting his victims before sadistically and gruesomely axing them off. He has no regrets, no major ambitions, no real cause to fight for: he is evil and cruel and vicious just because he wants to be, and does not even have the courtesy to look nice while he’s at it. A monster from top to bottom, inside and out, plain and simple. So, we ask again…what makes all these characters, and so many more, so fascinating to us? Why do we dress up as them for Halloween or Comic Con? Why do we write books about them, or create theories about them? Why do we reinvent them, time and time again, and get so excited when they pop up? Well, there’s one thing all five of these characters - and many more like them - have in common: they ENJOY what they do. No matter what they’re doing, no matter how wicked or perverse, the villains we love to hate have a BLAST doing what they do. They laugh, they smile, they crack jokes, they prance around…they get so into it that it’s hard not to get into it with them. They can be funny in how they play with their victims, they can be endearing in how they revel in their sins. But why is THAT then? Why do we find that enjoyment of evil so attractive? Ultimately, I think the reason is one that many have suggested in the past, so it’s nothing you haven’t heard before. It is, however, nonetheless true: the villains we love-to-hate appeal to us because Villains, in general, represent the dark side of humanity. Just as Heroes are emblems of all the good things we wish humans could be, Villains show us all the bad things humans could be. They are the people who not only give into temptation, but embrace their inner monster with a passion and zeal that is honestly hard to find in the real world. Whether they make us shudder or make us grin (or somehow do both at once), Villains are the inner evils we all know we could be capable of if we just let go of our inhibitions. That’s why actors find them fun to play, why writers always enjoy conjuring them up…and why you can even end up forming crushes on them, if you’re mad enough, I suppose. In short: Villains are essentially the reverse role models of Heroes, a reflection of the beast that lurks inside every human heart. They are the clowns that kill, the godmothers that curse, the warriors without a cause, the devils who rule…the nightmares we never want to forget. Lucifer Bless Their Hearts.

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blackkatmagic · 4 years ago

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BRUCE/KIT?? HELLO 991 YES ID LIKE TO REPORT AN ATTACK BC I JUST ABOUT TRIPPED WHILE READING THIS AND ALMOST KILLED MYSELF

THATS SO UNIVERSE BRAIN KAT WE DO NOT DESERVE YOU

“Did you know,” Kit says, “that you have sharks in here?”

The boy on the dock startles with a yelp, almost overbalancing from his perch on top of a crate. With admirable grace, he manages to catch himself, then scramble back up before he turns, wide-eyed, to stare at Kit like he’s never seen a Nautolan before.

Well, Kit admits. He probably hasn’t. This planet is most definitely very deep in the Unknown Territories, and the odds of Nautolans besides Kit making it this far are slim. But just yesterday Kit ran into a man calling himself Killer Croc, and surely he doesn’t look all that much stranger.

“Who are you?” the boy blurts.

Kit cocks his head, amused by the bristling. “My name is Kit,” he offers, and raises one webbed hand, wiggling his fingers. He did actually decide to come close for a reason, though, and he offers, “There are several dozen sharks in the harbor right now, all fitted with some kind of control collar.” Deciding that coming any closer is probably a bad idea, he tosses the collar he was able to wrestle off one of the sharks up onto the dock at the base of the crate. “It seems like a public safety risk, letting them—”

“Robin!” a voice cries, loud and alarmed, and Kit catches the flicker of warning in the Force half a second before something slices across the surface of the water. He dives instantly, and the thing misses the top of his tentacles by a hair, thudding into the post holding up the dock with sharp edges. Kit eyes it, then the surface, and ducks back under the boards. He surfaces silently, just as the person who yelled lands with a thump.

“Jay, you okay?” the young man asks, worry as bright as a beacon. “That thing it threw—”

Kit rolls his eyes. It indeed.

“He was saying something about sharks in the bay,” Robin says, and there's a light thump as he drops onto the boards above Kit's head. “And control collars.”

There's a pause. “He put sharks in the bay?”

“Not him,” a new voice says, and Kit glances up as another mind joins the two younger ones. Human, he thinks, though most people here seem to be. Focused, and calculating, and wary, but with a touch of something desperately bright underneath, like a light against the dark clouds. “Joker.”

“Batman!” the older boy says, relief in his voice. “Is there a way to get them—”

“Aquaman is on his way,” Batman says. “Nightwing, grab the collar. There might be a way to turn the signal off before anyone gets eaten.”

Kit tips his head, considering. The sharks here aren’t intelligent enough for him to speak mind-to-mind with them, but…he can likely follow them easily, from the land or from the water. And it sounds like the person controlling them is doing it for nefarious purposes, like he’d thought. Kit should likely put a stop to that.

“What about the sea monster guy?” Robin asks, and Kit can practically see him wrinkling his nose. “He told us about the sharks. Is he just trying to screw with the Joker?”

“Probably,” Batman says grimly. “We’ll focus on the Joker and then look into him. Robin, with me. Nightwing—”

“I'm going, I'm going,” Nightwing says lightly, and there's a huff, then three running steps and a leap. From beneath the dock, Kit watches his long, twisting leap carry him to the next pier over, and it makes him smile just a little. Very Jedi-like, he thinks, and ignores the ache it brings. He rests a hand against the soaked wood, tipping his head up, and just catches the edge of a long, dak cloak sliding over the edge.

“Robin,” Batman says quietly. “You're okay?”

“Yeah, B,” Robin says, and Kit can feel his grin. “I got three of the Black Mask’s goons, too! They're tied up in that warehouse back there.”

“I’ll call Gordon,” Batman promises, humor threading his tone, and Kit can hear the creak of a gauntlet, the touch of leather on cloth. “Good work, Robin. Let’s go.”

Ah, Kit thinks, smiling to himself over the sound of feet moving away. So that’s how it is. Padawans don’t precisely translate beyond the Jedi, but—well. This is likely something close.

He gives it a moment to be sure they’ve left, then slips back down into the murky water, wrinkling his nose a little. The water here is very polluted, but—something to address later, after the sharks. Maybe the potentially Neti woman he saw railing against polluters on the shore the other day would be willing to help him.

#help it doesn't have a title #brucekit #crossover #jason todd #kit fisto #bruce wayne #dick grayson #i almost want to call it the shape of water BUT #i will refrain #soulwork #there that's a title it's FINE #Anonymous #kat answers

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whetstonefires · 5 years ago

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in the shadows

hey guess who has two thumbs and just spent 5 hours straight writing another batman AU?

Batman wasn’t a person.

He faked it very well. When the League gathered, the line of his mask against pale skin looked natural and human, a little more perfectly fitted than the Flash’s but not quite as perfect as Green Lantern’s, which was an energy projection and not a real object and thus lay against his face flawlessly, without shift or gap.

His mouth didn’t bend into many expressions and his body language wasn’t voluble, but the emotive gestures that he did make were pretty normal. The rare smile seemed honest. He had a heartbeat, perfectly steady. His shadow (almost) always matched the shape that was blocking the light.

The stories that came out of Gotham, about the Bat—those could be exaggerations, born of terror and manipulated perception. Clark, of all people, knew how much you could convince people to believe things that weren’t real, because they made a better story. Even the scraps of photography and film showing a towering thing of black fog and long fangs could have been some clever trick with projectors.

The fact that Superman couldn’t see through his suit just meant it was well made.

He’d had to pool his observations with Diana and J’onn before he’d been sure he wasn’t imagining things. But Martian Manhunter knew shapeshifting, and said the block against his mind when he tried to touch Batman’s thoughts did not feel quite human. And Superman knew what posing as human looked like. And Wonder Woman knew truth, and its absence.

Batman wasn’t human. Which wasn’t the problem, of course.

The problem was that he was pretending he was. Pretending it rigorously in a situation where there shouldn’t be any need, unless he had something worse to hide. Pretending it in a way that overlaid on a certain inhuman predatory grace began to look very dangerous indeed.

Superman could see both things in him now, watching narrow-eyed through a roof into the room where Batman bent over a child’s bed, cape swirling up larger and darker than he let it get around them. The man and the hungry creature, flipping in and out of focus, neither ever gone but superimposed, like a trick picture that was two things at once.

Knuckles ghosted over the boy’s cheek, claws turned inward, and the child sighed softly, and sunk deeper into sleep. Batman’s heart wasn’t beating, but Clark could monitor the child’s vitals easily from here.

Batman drew his hand back, and tipped his head up—looking back at Superman as though the roof was no more a barrier to his perceptions than to Clark’s. Waited a beat, as if making sure his attention had been noticed, and then passed soundlessly between the other beds to the window, slid it open, and launched himself out through it and up onto the roof.

He didn’t bother to restrain himself to even a plausible approximation of human limits, now. The arm he reached up to the edge of the roof to pivot himself up by was too long, and his shoulder rotated further than it should have been able to, and he landed with impossible soundlessness in a billow of cape that was far, far larger than any cape that only reached to his heels should have managed, and which faded out at the edges into shadow. He knew he was found out.

Superman took the obvious invitation, and sunk down to join him. It was better, sitting like this, facing the same way on the ridgepole of a two-story building. Batman hadn’t hurt that child, that he could tell. There was no need to make this a confrontation.

“I don’t understand why,” he said at last. Out of deference for sleeping children, he kept his voice soft—he would have worried about a human being able to hear it, but now he knew he didn’t have to worry about that with Batman. “Why go to so much trouble to deceive us? We haven’t kept secret what we are. Not from you.”

Alien, alien, user of alien weapon, magical princess…

Batman sighed. He spoke almost as softly as Clark had, and his voice sounded the same as ever, except for the fact that a human voice couldn’t get this quiet without falling into a whisper. “I’m not like you.” He turned.

He’d let some of the details of his human mask fall away—what must have been the exhaustively rendered texture of skin, the flakes of dry skin on chapping lips, a crease at the corner of his mouth that had suggested he scowled or smiled more, outside of his costume. There was no pretense of a jawbone, under the skin, though the jawline externally hadn’t changed. The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.”

“You’ve visited that kid every day for weeks,” Clark said. “Why?”

Batman stared at him. “How long have you known?”

“Batman…”

“You’re confronting me now because you’re worried about my intentions toward Dick. He changed your mind about something. Ergo, you’ve been sitting on this for a while. How long have you known I wasn’t real?”

That was such a bizarre choice of words Clark almost skipped answering the question to chase it down, but he held himself back. This wasn’t a story, and Batman wasn’t even a hostile source so far, if it had been. “Wonder Woman, J’onn and I pooled our observations about four months ago, in April. We were pretty sure by the time we finished comparing notes.” He shrugged. “I suspected something a long time before that, but it’s hard to say when it started to be more than…a feeling.”

“A feeling,” Batman echoed. “Yes, it would start there.”

“So?” Superman prompted. He had liked Batman. He was the last person who could insist that someone hiding the truth of his own nature was reprehensible, though the sting he’d felt about it was an uncomfortable reminder of how much most of his friends would resent him, if they knew the truth. So he’d meant to let it lie, until Batman chose to trust them, or gave them a reason not to trust him. “Why have you been visiting…Dick?”

It wouldn’t be suspicious on its own—well, not very suspicious, all things considered, in context—except that Batman had changed, around the same time. Diana said his presence seemed deeper, Clark thought he seemed to be having trouble staying within the outlines of his human mask. J’onn agreed that he seemed somehow more powerful.

Batman stayed silent a long time. Eighteen heartbeats from the boy below them, slower than those of his peers because he had an athlete’s conditioning already and was more deeply asleep than most of them. At last, the being beside him confessed, “He’s carrying me.”

“What?”

“You noticed I’m stronger now,” Batman said matter-of-factly, in a way that almost managed to cover up emotion. “That’s his doing. I was…fading, when you met me. Not up to capacity. I’m not really meant to exist that way.” He glanced over at Superman again, as though evaluating his reaction, and Clark wondered if he had really needed to do that—if he really only saw out of his eyes. J’onn could make eyes anywhere he wanted some, but he needed them to see. Batman seemed somehow less constrained by biology than that.

“Is it hurting him?”

“No! No. It…shouldn’t.” Batman ghosted a sigh, voiceless, inhuman as the wind. “I don’t know that it’s good for a child to be around me. But I’m not…taking anything from him. I’m not…feeding on him, if that’s what you think.”

It was what Clark had feared. And probably anything that would eat a child would also lie about it, but Batman was his teammate and very nearly his friend. So it was reassuring to have it so firmly denied. He’d come braced for only a little and no lasting damage and he said it was fine.

“Please,” he said. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I suppose I have to.” Batman tipped his head back, to look up at the few stars that smudged themselves visible through the red blanket of light-polluted smog overhead. Clark could make out more of them, even with his ordinary visible-light vision, than a human could have. He wondered what Batman saw. “Will you tell the others for me? Your little conspiracy?”

“Not Green Lantern and Flash?”

“Hal and Barry can figure me out on their own.” That dry sense of humor was the same, even if it was bending amusement onto a mouth that could no longer pass as human.

A breath Clark suspected he didn’t need was drawn. “A different little boy made me up,” Batman said. “Bruce Wayne. You can look the story up in the newspaper archives.

“It was a little over twenty years ago, in Gotham. A mugger shot his parents in front of him.” Another slanted glance, and then he looked away again. He certainly acted like he needed his eyes to see. “It wasn’t more terrible than things that happen to a hundred other people every day, really. But he was the right kind of terrified and angry, in the right place, at the right moment…the police reports all say he tackled the mugger from behind, and got lucky that the man hit his head. But it was me. I took him down.”

He raised his face back toward the smudged stars. “I was such a small thing, then. If that vengeance had been enough—the killer taken in and sentenced, brought to justice—I would have faded away again. Things like me are summoned and dispelled that way all the time. Or he could have taken me back into himself—the danger was past, it wasn’t a chronic part of his existence, so I would have reintegrated, probably, and not hung around rising up to protect him for the rest of his life, and probably disrupting it in the process.”

That amused quirk to the horizontal slash of a mouth, again. “But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He clung. He brooded. He wanted to protect everyone. And I grew.” Bittersweet and fond. “I grew until I really could help. Until anyone could see me, any time I liked. Until I was solid enough to get in half a dozen fights in one night without my blows starting to go right through the enemy.”

There was no way Batman was letting him know these things about how he worked, when he wasn’t holding back, by accident. They were being given.

“Where’s Bruce now?” Clark asked. Knowing it was probably a painful topic, but hoping to hear it was some rule of magic out of a storybook, that only a child had the right kind of belief to sustain a projection of this nature. That Bruce Wayne had grown up and moved on and had a career and a family, and perhaps didn’t remember that Batman was something he’d made.

Batman’s eyes closed, and vanished completely into the black of his head. He’d kept unspooling all the while he’d been talking, Clark realized, and the gouts and folds and flame-like flickers of his cape now sprawled over more than half the roof, leaving a great circle of open space around Superman himself, and a broad open route away from Batman, as though he couldn’t just go straight up if he wanted to get away. The billows of it had now collapsed in on themselves. His voice, when he spoke, was hushed and solemn, but calm. “He didn’t make it to sixteen. He died tackling a gunman who’d been holding up a corner store where he happened to be, buying junk food he wasn’t supposed to have. The cashier fumbled the register key and bent over to pick it up, and the man panicked and started shooting. Bruce saved lives, that night. But he didn’t survive. Because I wasn’t there. I was away protecting other people, like he’d asked me to.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. Inadequate as always, but more so, when he’d pushed for this truth and didn’t even understand enough to know how to offer comfort. He reached out to offer a comforting, boundary-respecting brief pat on the shoulder, like he might have when he had less idea what Batman was, and his hand hung still in the air, as the face Batman turned toward him was human again, so abruptly that even to his accelerated visual perceptions it looked like some sort of glitch.

“This is his face,” Batman told him, and the grief that hadn’t been in his voice before was worn on it, in the pull of the mouth and the bend of pain around the blank white eyes. He looked like he might cry. “The way he would have looked. He never…grew this far, but…”

“In memory of him, then,” Superman said, soothing, and was able to deliver the pat on the shoulder and withdraw. It sounded like Batman was in some ways the only surviving part of Bruce Wayne, and as such had every right to his appearance, but he clearly didn’t think of himself that way, and it wasn’t Clark’s place to try to alter his self-concept, or even make comment when he’d only just been introduced to it. “That seems appropriate.”

Batman shrugged. It looked very human, except for the way the cape parts of him reacted. “I knew it best.”

Had he held the memory of his…creator’s face in his head, updating it carefully to how he would have looked with every year or month that passed? That couldn’t be healthy. It also might be unavoidable, considering Batman’s origins.

“You went on protecting Gotham, afterward?”

“What else would I do?”

“And you joined us. When Starro came.” Batman nodded, as though that was only obvious. Clark supposed it was—when you were a supernatural entity created to protect human beings, why would you not answer a call to band together with other superpowered beings to save the world? “Why did you pretend?” he asked. “To be…”

“Human?” Batman asked. He snorted in derision, either at Clark’s inability to choose a word or his own deceit. “It wasn’t the first time. I talk to the police like this, sometimes. Witnesses. It reassures people, to be talking to a…person.”

That was the same reason J’onn made himself look more human, even in blatant green—it wasn’t entirely unlike why Clark kept his own life as Clark, why Superman didn’t wear a mask. “But why…” He’d gone to such lengths, to maintain the façade. Human jaw and teeth, sculpted solid to catch X-ray vision behind flesh he’d carefully made permeable to it, when even now with the image of Bruce Wayne’s face restored he wasn’t bothering. Consistent physical proportions. Always running close against the edge of normal human limits, of strength and speed and length of jump—not hanging back, but not throwing himself onto the front line either, contributing as much with tactics and analysis as actual combat. “Why try so hard to convince us?”

Batman shrugged. “I wasn’t holding back that much. I told you. I was fading. I was never meant to last. Once it turned out the team wasn’t a one-time thing, I still didn’t want to go through the whole…process of revelation.”

“But you’re doing it now.” Clark found he was grinding his teeth, because he was putting together a picture he didn’t like. “Because. Now you’re expecting to survive.” Batman had been dying. He hadn’t thought it was worth the stress of being honest with them, because he hadn’t expected to exist long enough for their relationships to matter.

Superman glanced down through the roof at the sleeping children, and one child in particular.

“I wasn’t there in time to save his parents, either,” Batman said, and Clark knew that feeling—all this power and yet you could still arrive too late, and be too little. But Batman was defined by that feeling, founded upon it almost, so it probably struck him deeper. “But I was there afterward. I protected him from the followup attacks, meant to stop him testifying about the sabotage he’d witnessed.

“And he clung to me, whenever I came…I do try to comfort them, especially when it’s children, but usually they’re at least a little bit afraid. He wasn’t. And he didn’t have anyone else to cling to. They wouldn’t let his parents’ friends in to see him more than once, and then they left town. And then, after I came to tell him that Zucco and his men were taken care of for good, when I left I felt the distance opening…I realized I was…his, now.”

There was a strange, wondering ache in the way he said it that made it easy for Clark to repress his own discomfort with the idea of anyone belonging to anyone else, and of something that looked like a grown man asserting an intimate personal bond with an unrelated child. Batman was supposed to belong to a child, it was how he’d been made, and he’d expected to die by inches in the absence of the one who’d made him, and now he suddenly wasn’t. This little orphan was the most precious thing in his world, that was plain, and to Clark at least it was equally plain that he felt a deep guilt at replacing the boy who had been his world before.

He wondered, suddenly, if Batman had ever been this honest with anyone in his existence. Had he been this open even with his Bruce, or had his need to protect led him to put on a front, and conceal every uncertainty?

The pale smudge of Batman’s face was still and remote, and his voice was nearly calm, but the darkness of his cape had spilled out over the whole roof now, and it was gently writhing. The route out for Superman, opposite Batman’s main body, had shrunk to the merest footpath. Was that there out of instinct, or a more conscious courtesy?

“You don’t have to leave that,” Superman said quietly, flipping his thumb toward the corridor of open shingle and beam. “I know you aren’t trying to trap me, and it won’t anyway.”

The path snapped shut almost instantaneously, and a little of the strain in the atmosphere faded—Batman had been holding himself back from encircling him completely only with continuous effort. Why? Did he naturally expand to fill the available space? Or was expanding in the form of the cape an expression of emotion that was uncomfortable to suppress, in the same way it was hard to sit still when you felt anxious, or hold your tongue when you got mad?

His teammate’s whole torso was turned away, now, and this too was easy to read—shame at his own inhumanity. In front of Clark, of all people. But then, Clark made it look easy, didn’t he? It even was easy for him, when it came to things like looking like he fit in.

J’onn should have been the one to come. But it disconcerted him not to be able to pick up anything Batman did not intentionally share—Clark didn’t think he’d learned to read human body language yet, beyond the most obvious things—and Batman had been known to use fire.

“It didn’t seem wise to seem to be trying to threaten you,” Batman said flatly, into the night.

“Thank you,” said Superman, because while he didn’t mind at this point, it would definitely have made him uncomfortable earlier, before Batman had made himself so vulnerable. “Could you, do you think?”

A sidelong look. “You’re less invulnerable to magic,” Batman said. “Probably.”

Something to keep in mind. The Flash was the only teammate he had now that he was reasonably sure he could take three falls out of three. Maybe they could start practicing against each other, if they could find somewhere they could risk making a mess on that scale. Sparring—he and Diana had tried it out, gingerly. If Batman wanted to stretch out his re-expanding powers in a secure environment…

“Do you have any plans, going forward?” Now that he had a future to plan for.

“I have someone who helps me,” Batman replied. “Bruce’s guardian, after his parents died. He wanted to leave Gotham, after…but he stayed. To try to help the city, in Bruce’s memory. And to keep an eye on me.” The amusement this time was bitter. “We don’t really get along. He thinks Bruce died because of me—that I made him feel invulnerable, and then didn’t protect him. He’s projecting. But I suppose that’s what I’m for.”

Clark made a face; he didn’t like the idea of people being for purposes. Even people who’d been made. This wasn’t the time to argue about it. “But he helps you?”

“He helps.” Batman glanced down, toward Dick’s bed, as though once again he could see through the roof. “I’m trying to get him to agree to take Dick in. He did a good job with Bruce, even if he doesn’t think so.”

“Will that be the best for Dick?” Clark asked, as neutrally as he could manage. He could tell Batman’s intentions were good, but he didn’t know if putting a child entirely within the influence of a supernatural being that had latched onto him, without an external line of support, was a good idea. On the other hand, putting him in the care of an adult who would know he wasn’t delusional could only help. And Clark could be the outside support, if necessary—not that he wasn’t under Batman’s influence himself, but he wasn’t within his circle of it the way this Alfred seemed to be, resentment or not. The resentment might be the most dangerous part.

What part of this train of thought Batman sensed, he couldn’t tell, as his comrade only retorted, “It can’t be worse than here!”

A group home with four beds to a room certainly wasn’t the best environment, but surely he couldn’t be here much longer. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“He doesn’t get much privacy. He agreed to meet with Alfred last time he ducked into a closet while I was there, so now Alfred’s the focus of the plan.” Batman sighed again. “He’s so brave,” he said fondly. “It worries me. I wish he were somewhere safe.”

The wild impulse rose to offer to step in, to take the role of legal guardian if this Alfred wouldn’t. Clark sat on it. He didn’t want a child, he wasn’t equipped to care for a child, CPS would be able to see that perfectly well in a single reporter in his 20s living in a one-bedroom apartment in a somewhat run-down building. He didn’t even live in the same state, and child placement was handled on a state-by-state basis so even petitioning for custody would be horrifically involved, never mind obtaining it. Also, he had a secret identity to protect.

He couldn’t always help. The hardest lesson in life, and one he had to keep relearning.

“So your plans are…to get Dick into a safe home environment.”

“And keep him alive,” Batman affirmed. Quick, and firm, and almost not obvious about what a vital goal this was to him. Keeping this child alive, the way he’d failed to keep the one before.

“Of course.” Clark nodded. If everything he’d been told was true—and he thought it was, it felt true—then there was no need for the League to intervene. Gotham was probably safer than it had ever been. “Can I meet him, sometime?” Partly to do his part as an outside support network. Partly because he was curious, to meet this child who’d been able to reach his hand into Batman’s chest and close his fingers around his heart.

Batman glanced over, and then seemed to relax. Even the endless piles of his cape seemed suddenly to behave more like ordinary fabric. “I passed, then?”

“What?” Oh. Of course he’d known. Clark had hardly been sneaky. “Yes.”

“Not that I know what you were planning to do if I hadn’t.”

Clark didn’t know either, other than get Dick away of he seemed to need it.

“All of this is off the record, of course,” Batman added. It was a testament to how distracted Superman was by Batman’s problems that it took a long second for him to realize the potential implications of that choice of words, and read in Batman’s posture and the way his cape had developed hooks of tension in some of its folds that they were entirely intentional.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“You attended a press event in Gotham two years ago. You still feel like you, no matter how you dress.”

“Well.” Superman tried to shake the sudden tension out of his shoulders. Batman was a good detective and data analyst, that hadn’t changed with the rest of it. He’d certainly tracked down the name of the gentleman from the Planet. “I guess that’s fair. And of course it’s off the record. I won’t even tell J’onn and Diana anything but the basics without your permission.”

“Oh.” Batman clearly hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

“You have a right to your privacy.” Clark thought back over his own approach to the whole situation and said, with a gentleness born somewhat of guilt, “You are a person, after all.”

“I’m really not,” Batman said, corner of his mouth ticking up just slightly to underline the easy irony in his voice. But the great spread of cape had fallen into easier, more geometric wrinkles, and Clark was beginning to learn to trust that over what he said with his borrowed face. Though he could almost definitely lie with the cape part of himself, too, if he needed to.

“Don’t…” His tongue flickered across the back of his teeth; be brave, Kent. “Don’t talk about my friend that way, huh?”

#hoc est meum #my fic #batman #imaginary friend batman #world's finest #somewhat to my surprise #protective batman #inhuman batman #superman #people talking on roofs

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alchemist-of-altoids · 1 year ago

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Okay but imagine this:

They have three kids. A daughter, and then a twin boy and girl. I’ll say they’re about a year and half apart. They let the Batkids pick their middle names, so long as they all agree and the name isn’t a dumb joke. Of course they float around some stupid names, but they don’t go through with and of them. The eldest daughter is Annika Mary Kyle-Wayne, (after Selina’s friend (I’m pretty sure that she was made up for The Batman but I like it), and Dick’s mom) and the twins are named Thomas Jack Kyle-Wayne (After Thomas Wayne and Jack Drake) and Martha Catherine Kyle-Wayne. (After Thomas Wayne and Catherine Todd)

Now, naturally these kids would all have favorites. Besides Alfred, because he’s everyone’s favorite by default. (Dick called dibs on naming a kid after Alfred back when he was still 9 so Alfred wouldn’t let them name any of Bruce’s after him. Afterall, Master Grayson did indeed call dibs) But I imagine Annika’s favorites would be Dick, Damian, and Tim. She literally wants them all the time. She loves watching Dick flip around. She giggles at everything Damian does and absolutely ADORES his veritable menagerie. And s whenever she’s sleepy she wants Tim. She falls asleep on top of him and he can’t help but fall asleep too. Then the twins are born. Martha is a daddy’s girl in the same that Thomas is a mama’s boy. Martha loves her daddy, and her other two favorites are Jason and Cass. She loves dancing with Cass and watching her spin around so gracefully. Jason probably held her more than anyone else. Everytime he saw her he would just scoop her up and she LOVES it. Her first word was Jay. Meanwhile, Thomas basically clings to his mom nonstop. For that first month, pretty much the only other people who can hold him for more than 10 minutes without him crying are Steph, Duke, and Barbara. He quickly takes after Steph’s type of humor. From the moment he can walk Thomas is waddling around after Duke and he wants to be Signal for Halloween basically every year. This is not helped when they discover Thomas is a meta with powers VERY similar to Duke’s. And Barbara can get him to sleep like no one else. He seemed to have taken to insomnia early on, and he would just sit with Barbara and watch her work.

Don’t get me wrong, these people are human disasters and have no idea how to interact with babies. ESPECIALLY ones that are part of their family. Because literally none of them have ever had the experience of having a literal baby sibling. But these babies are getting all of them to take better care of themselves. Dick realizes that Annika has started bottling up her feelings and hiding injuries like him, so he stops doing that. Jason sees Martha start being rude to people for no reason, so he tries to find healthier ways to communicate. Tim can’t NOT fall asleep when Annika is on top of him and he sleeps through nights because of it. He’s pretty much only drinking coffee because he likes it now. He doesn’t even complain (too much) when they switch him over to decaf. Steph sees that Thomas starts to distance himself from everyone else, and realizes that she’s been acting like she wasn’t adopted into the family years ago and starts to mend that. Damian sees Annika playing with one of swords and realizes that maybe he needs to keep those locked up and start practicing more restraint. Everytime Bruce lies about his condition or gets too worked up or any of his other millions of bad habits Martha just cries until he stops doing it and holds her. Duke realizes that Thomas is doing the same thing he does, waking up at about five or six in the morning and then not going to sleep until one or two in the morning and realizes that he needs to stop doing double patrols. Duke also helps Thomas (and by extension himself) understand that just because he’s a meta, doesn’t make him any less part of the family. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and using their power is only natural for them. Barbara takes way more breaks and gets away from screens WAY more often now that Thomas is always around. Selina and Alfred are so grateful to these babies for inspiring the Batfam to get healthier.

This didn’t even get into the INSANE skill kits these kids would have and not even realize were unusual to have. I’ll probably write that later bc that was actually the thought that sent me down this rabbit hole but it’s getting late and this is already long enough.

The BatKids when Selina’s had the baby are so confused. Like…. They have no idea what to do with a sibling this age. They’re used to them just…. Spawning fully formed one day. No introduction period, just bam, sibling number seven, eight, nine, whatever.

They’ve never had an introductory phase where the sibling isn’t able to run around in spandex already. How do they interact with them????? They’re scared they might break the baby.

Bruce and Selina just let them bumble through it because it’s adorable and also hilarious revenge for the weird shit the kids have done in the past.

#dick grayson #nightwing #batfam #batman #red hood #stephanie brown #batfamily headcanons #duke thomas #damian wayne #red robin #jason todd #tim drake #selina kyle #bruce x selina #bruce wayne #cassandra cain

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sketchnskribbles · 3 years ago

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No Set Destination

Chapter 1: Back… To The Future! [AO3]

“Talking”

Thoughts

“[Raptor Speak]”

[Raptor Morse Code]

Altered Timeline: Emmett’s universe, where the movie takes place.

Original Timeline: Rex’s universe, where his origin/series of events take place.

Genre: Adventure, Humor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Character(s): Emmett Brickowski, Rex Dangervest, Lucy Wildstyle, Batman, General Mayhem, Benny (Astronaut Blue), Metalbeard, Unikitty, and Good/Bad Cop

Pairing(s): Altered!Emmett/Altered!Lucy, Batman/Queen Whatevera, Rex/Original!Mayhem, Original!Benny/Original!Lucy

Disclaimer: I do not own Lego Movie/Lego Movie: The Second Part. However, this is my own personal fanfic that I am merely using these wonderful characters for. This is mainly for my own enjoyment but I am sharing it so that others may enjoy it as well.

Any possible future OCs used for world building are my own and you must ask permission before using.

This is, indeed, an AU. While I do like to stick to as much canon as possible, I may change some things for the sake of the story; don't hesitate to talk to me if there is any confusion.

Otherwise enjoy!

ALTERED TIMELINE; UNDAR

“It’s over Rex. Emmett’s never going to be you”

The words stabbed into the rough explorer like knives, as he slowly sat up to view his past self and his former love. They looked on at him with compassion.

Ugh.

There shouldn’t be such a thing as compassion for a monster like him. He knew what he’d become; a slave to hate and revenge.

“But you could be like him.” Lucy took a step forward. No matter how tough Wyldstyle liked to believe herself to be, she was still so mushy. Perhaps that's why she was so attracted to his past self. “You don’t have to be the bad guy.”

Yes he did. If he wasn’t the bad guy, then who was he? Just some nobody. He no longer deserved the right to be “The Special”.

“You could join us.” Emmett reaches out, speaking his own agreement with the ex-rebel.

“ I— I can’t…” Rex stood up fully, he could already feel the tingling down his body and into his limbs. The Flux Capacitor had been the only way to keep himself stable within this time period and in control in the event of this very possibility… him failing. It was the reason he’d kept it on his person. Why had he been so stupid as to show them it?! Stinking arrogant prick, he’d become!

Now… he didn’t even know what was going to happen to him, only the assumption that he’d probably stop existing.

“What do you mean?” Emmett frowned, thin eyebrows furrowed into worry.

“She came back for ya’. You're never going to turn out like me, which means—” he grunted, the tingles were turning sharper. It felt similar to when one cut off blood circulation. Not fun. “—I’m never going to exist.”

“Wait, wait, no!” Emmett took a couple steps forward but was halted any further by Lucy.

Rex gave out a strangled laugh as his right arm began disappearing. So, his theory was correct. He was going to truly, well, die. Man, were kid’s imaginations hardcore or what?

“”Look, I told— I knew it! Look, I'm back-to-the-futuring. Totally called it.”

“What’s “back-to-the-futuring”?”

“It’s a classic movie older kids get to watch. And now... it’s happening to me.”

Stupid Finn. What the heck? Killing his best-made-character-yet off? Not cool.

“C’mon, take my hand while you still have a hand to take!” His younger self sounded a little desperate, pulling against the restraining hands of his awesome "Very Special Best Friend". How freaking typical of Lucy to take advantage of his feelings and lead him on. Couldn't even properly call Emmett her boyfriend, like she did for Bats. How gullible he was back then to not realize it. He couldn't put more thought into, else he'd just be drawn back into the nigh inconsolable anger that had taken over his life.

“...That ain't how it works, kid.” He’d just wind up taking both his selves with him and that wouldn't be good.

“Rex!”

“It’s okay, I'm proud of ya’. You’ll grow up to be better than me.” And he truly believed that. This Emmett will turn out far greater.

Good for him.

Rex oddly felt calm despite this being his last moments. At least, he was feeling calm until the construction worker made what he would later call a really dumb move.

Emmett, in a rare show of stubbornness, ripped out of Lucy’s hold and sprinted at his Vest Friend. The Special wasn't planning on losing anybody today. Not even his rough, bad guy of an older self.

The other two froze in shock and unfortunately regained clarity too late.

Rex, by this time, had already lost both his legs and found that he really couldn't move. Like he was a stuck point in the space of reality.

Darn it Finn, Bianca… what the heck are you two up to?! Rex let out a low growl.

Lucy gave chase but Emmett had already dived for Rex with his best war cry, tackling the adventurer. The construction worker and what was left of his Vest Friend hit the floor. Hard.

It effectively knocked Rex out cold, as the back of his head had taken most of the impact, but neither Lucy or Emmett noticed in the fight to pry the Special off the now more quickly disappearing raptor trainer.. It was as if whatever force taking away Rex was aware that Emmett had latched on, and before Lucy could fully comprehend they were both just… gone.

The master builder collapsed onto her knees, staring at her now empty, shaking hands. She stayed in her horrified trance, even when those that she considered her family eventually found and surrounded her.

Questions like “Where’s Emmett?", “Wyldstyle, are you alright?”, and “Did we win?” Surrounded her. They shook her shoulders and tried to snap her back into reality but none of that worked either. She was too focused on the fact that they were gone. She’d failed.

She’d failed.

Those words made something snap and the last thing she remembered before passing out in silent tears were arms raising her up and moving her away. Soft murmurs of comfort and confusion blanketing her as she latched on to whoever held her.

———————————

ORIGINAL TIMELINE; UNDAR

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...aaaaaaa...aaaa...aaah…?”

Emmett’s throat felt hoarse as he held onto his Vest Friend with a death grip. Slowly, he opened one eye after another as he sucked in deep breaths. His heart was beating so fast.

Why had he thought latching onto someone who was disappearing was a good idea?!

When he finally focused on his surroundings, he found that… they really weren’t so gone after all. Huh. Although they weren’t in the same place. Instead of being under an oversized dryer or within a rather colorful cavern, they were out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but an overhang rock nearby.

Other than that, Undar looked exactly the same, except—

“Lucy…?” He winced, his voice cracked from his totally-not-girly screaming earlier. The ex-rebel didn’t answer. She wasn’t there. Maybe they really were dead?

“No, no, no. This can’t be right. This can’t—” Emmett stood up and nearly tripped over Rex’s reattached legs. “Ow, what?!”

His eyes widened, just having noticed his Vest Friend being fully, well, together. He also noticed that Rex wasn’t conscious.

“Oh no, Rex! Buddy, are you okay?!” The construction worker crawled up and shook his older self lightly. Shoving just a little bit stronger, when he was given no response. “Oh boy…”

What was he gonna do? No Lucy, no Rex, no… anybody.

Alone.

Wasn’t this what he was trying to avoid?

Emmett leaned away from the explorer and sighed, running a hand down his face tiredly. This had already been a long day. Had it only been a day? Maybe like a couple, or perhaps even a week. Overall, it had been long and weary.

A double decker couch would be really good about now, too. It would be comfy to lay on, at least. Too bad the last one he’d made was on the Rexcelsior…

The construction worker blinked, then jolted in realization. The Rexcelsior! He could get some raptor’s to pick them up. Surely Rex had some type of communication device to keep them in touch?

The Special reached for the many, various pockets that made up his older counterpart’s vest. Most seemed to include items that Emmett was sure were some type of dangerous. From knives to grenades, Rex had them, and all with his favored color scheme.

His nose crinkled. Geez, what did he need those for?! Had he been carrying them the whole time? The man’s Master Breaker punch was honestly explosive enough, as was his temper.

Finally, Emmett latched onto what looked like a walkie-talkie. It seemed a little outdated, considering all his other tech, but right now Emmett couldn’t care less.

He wasn’t nearly as alone as he’d thought!

With a crackle, he managed to bring the communicator to life.

“H-hello? Cobra? Ripley? Uh, o-other raptor’s —oh gosh, I’m sorry about forgetting all your names but I’m kinda freaking out right now! Is anybody reading me?” Static was all that could be heard. His grip on the device tightened. “Hello, Emmett here! I-I really need some help about now —Rex’s hurt! I think it’s his head. Kinda, ha, kinda scared to check it… don’t want to mess up and jostle… anything…”

The Special slowly let his hands, walkie-talkie and all, rest in his lap as he frowned in the distance. Static filled his ears but it went unnoticed as all his recent failures filled his mind. It seemed lately, all he could do was get in the way of everyone else —including his own self!

Ever since they managed to end Lord Business’ reign of “perfection'' he'd… just gone back to being ignored and set aside like he wasn’t good enough. Even his friends had started to not believe that he was capable of truly taking care of himself in Apocalypseburg. They would go so far as to take turns in chaperoning him around. Which he honestly hadn’t minded then, considering it meant hanging out with his friends!

It wasn’t until he met Rex that he’d begun to see just how much the people he’d begun to view as his family seemed to baby him. Seemed to believe he wasn’t “tough” or “strong” enough to do what they did in protecting their home.

He’d felt… so useless when that came to his attention. Which was probably what Rex was going for. Keep Emmett interested in staying with the raptor trainer, where he was “more wanted”, than in staying with “those who would just hold him back and keep him weak”.

Funny how both parties seemed to want the same thing and proclaiming how “it was best for him”, just with different methods. It seemed they had forgotten that he’d been alone and taken care of himself far longer than he’d known any of the others.

Except for Rex. Rex was him. Technically they’d known each other all their lives, right?

The communication device sprung to life, startling the Special into nearly dropping it. Static-filled growls and snarls came out from the speakers, sounding viscous as ever.

“[Emmett we read you! This is Jack, current Acting-Captain of the Rexcelsior. Did you say the boss is injured? Have you at least checked his vitals?]”

“Uh, so… funny thing…”

“[Yes…?]”

“I really don’t know what you’re saying.”

“[That’s wonderful. Look, just sit tight and we’ll get a lock on your location. Hopefully it won’t take us too long to reach you. Captain Jack out.]”

The walkie-talkie crackled then fell silent, leaving Emmett to listen only to the slight wind of the desolate planet.

He debated picking it back up and speaking again but figured that he’d gotten his point across; while he didn’t understand raptor, he sure knew that they understood english. Rex was constantly having conversations with his scale-y crew.

Man, though, a raptor space crew was so cool. Emmett still was a little star-struck on that, despite the whole recent adventure he’d had.

After a few moments, the man sighed. With nothing left to do but wait and watch over his older self, Emmett began to whistle.

He tried his best not to think of how he was beginning to feel heavier.

———————————

ORIGINAL TIMELINE; SYSAPOCALYPSTAR SPACE PORT

Within the walls of the newly made space docking port, a 1980s-something-space-guy was literally floating off the walls in glee. Everything was so fresh and new! And with plenty of spaceships too. Though there still didn’t seem to be enough for the man and there, probably, could never be.

He just couldn’t help it, he LOVED space vessels with an undying passion!

Which is why the couple of friends that he came with found the excitable astronaut cleaning and shining every vehicle in sight. The pink cat with a unicorn horn and the cyborg space pirate, an odd sight against the uniform lines and colors of the station’s decor, were chuckling at their blue-suited pal. It was always so nice to see him so happy; even if he was almost always happy.

He was just normally down and, well, blue at this time of the year. Normally they all were. It was the week that finally brought peace from the five year invasion through the uniting of Apocalypsburg and the Systar System.

It was also the week Emmett died.

The thought caused a frown to come upon the sea captain’s face, though he didn’t allow Unikitty or Benny to take notice. Instead, he turned away and toward the monitors that messages and updates came in for the Space Port’s staff. He vaguely recalled being told what it was called but couldn’t find it in him at the moment to think about it.

Instead his mind brought up this current week where everyone else would celebrate the union of two people and the peace that followed it. The week that the group of Masterbuilder friends spent, instead, in mourning for their Special.

At least, that is what they had done the last four years.

Now, they figured it was time to move on. Emmett wouldn’t have wanted them to be mopey. So, they weren’t going to be any longer. This year they were going to join in on the week-long celebrations. celebrating for their people and their Special Masterbuilder, who had never once failed to bring joy to their lives when he was alive.

A small red light came to life near one of the keyboards. It blinked in alert at the pirate.

“Ey, Benny… is yonder light ‘posed ta do that?”

“Huh?!” The astronaut broke his focus on the spaceships! and turned to his friend. “Light? What ligh— OH, that light! The station must have intercepted a message.”

Unikitty and Metalbeard shared a look. What did a space port need to “intercept messages”?

“Why is your communications station intercepting other people’s space conversations?” The cat tilted her head, a confused smile on her face.

“Yes, matey. What be any need, a’ our’s anymore, of interceptin’ messages? We ain’t fugitives no more.”

Benny had enough sense to feel embarrassed. They were right, of course. It wasn’t necessary but… Old habits were hard to get rid of.

“It’s only for safety purposes.” He defended, scratching the back of his neck as he slowly floated back to the ground. “And it only catches messages with keywords that I had input into the system.”

He walked over to the monitors and began typing away.

“Like what? Parties and rainbows?!” The cat had stars in her eyes as she skipped over to Benny. The pirate slowly came up right after, still a bit apprehensive.

“No…,” Benny, having sat down in one of the chairs, swiveled around to face his friends as they came up to him. He was waiting for the triggered words and message to load, “it’s more like things like “bombs”, “injuries”, and—”

“Emmett?”

“What?” Both the men blinked as the pink princess gazed in shock at the screen.

Benny turned back around at the monitor and Metalbeard leaned over.

KEYWORDS FOUND:

EMMETT

FREAKING OUT

HURT

The keywords struck fear into the three and Benny, noticing that the communication was still live, quickly butted in. They were greeted to frightening snarls of a beast they didn’t quite recognize.

“[...current Acting-Captain of the Rexcelsior. Did you say the boss is injured? Have you at least checked his vitals?]”

“Uh, so… funny thing…”

“[Yes…?]”

“I really don’t know what you’re saying.”

There was a lull in the conversation as whatever was growling seemed to stop in shock or realization.

The three Masterbuilders were beginning to figure that whoever was making the animalistic noises were probably some type of alien species that they hadn’t yet met. Else their… words would have been translated by the communications station.

That didn’t seem to matter too much to them at the moment, though. Emmett was alive! That was his voice speaking clearly within the live transmission.

“[That’s wonderful. Look, just sit tight and we’ll get a lock on your location. Hopefully it won’t take us too long to reach you. Captain Jack out.]”

And he was in trouble.

Their response was immediate in sending out word of what they had discovered to the rest of their friends and making preparations for takeoff.

——————————————

ALTERED TIMELINE; THE REXCELSIOR

The bridge was in controlled chaos as the crew of extinct reptiles ran to and fro in tandem to get ready for take off.

Acting-Captain Jack watched them from overhead, awaiting the navigation team behind him in locking coordinates. They were, unfortunately, having a hard time finding Rex’s signature.

The raptor swiveled and tilted his head in the direction of Snake Eyes, head of the Navigation team. It seemed the silent reptile was staring down one of his underlings, who was spewing out excuses left and right.

“[W-we can’t get a reading on the boss! It’s as if he doesn’t exist.]”

Only a sputtering rumble could be heard from Snake Eyes. Scars on his neck were accentuated by the flashing red lights and klaxon blare that Rex had insisted on during times of emergency. Something about needed drama?

The raptors really didn’t care, save for the fact it made their Alpha happy.

The disfigured predator snapped at his subordinate a couple times before tapping one of his long hunting claws in morse code, like the boss had taught him.

[Are you telling me that you believe Emmett a liar?]

“[No, no! I didn’t— I didn’t mean that! I’m merely saying—]”

[When you call Emmett a liar, you are calling our Alpha one too!]

“[I’m not—]”

[EXCUSES!] The scarred Navigations Officer snapped again, this time much closer to the poor raptor’s neck. Too close.

Captain Jack turned fully and decided it was time to intervene. He whacked the Navigation Lead with his tail

It stung but it got the normally level-headed reptile’s attention.

“[Enough, Snake! I understand that everyone’s on edge but there is no reason to treat a brother in such a manner.]”

[Yes, Captain. I was out of line, forgive me.] The scarred raptor bowed lowly, tail flicking in shame. Without prompting, he turned to his subordinate. [I apologize, brother. Can you find it in you to excuse my poor behavior?].

The raptor relaxed, relieved that the tension wasn’t near as thick as before.

“[You’re forgiven. We’re all not at our best, considering the situation. We should be trying harder…]”

[No, I know for a fact you are trying your hardest —I trained you. We are just not searching in the right direction.]

“[I agree.]” Jack nodded. “[May I make a suggestion?]”

[Please.]

“[Try our timeline.]”

“[...What?]” The lower ranked raptor blinked. That couldn’t be right! What other timeline? They went to the past, didn’t they? He should know, he helped bring them there.

He looked between his higher rank in worry when they shared a look.

[You think that…?]

“[No, I know. This is Rex we’re talking about, of course he broke it.]”

If Snake could chuckle properly, he would have. Instead he settled for giving Jack a sharp, toothy grin.

Masterbreakers were too much.

[Obviously, he broke the Flux Capacitor. It does make sense that, since we knew we were going to be altering the past, we’d make a completely new reality.]

“[Exactly.]”

The head of navigation turned to his team.

[Set course for our Alpha’s original time and place. Make certain that it is the original timeline!]

A chorus of roars were his acknowledgement that they would get right on task.

________________________

ORIGINAL TIMELINE, A COUPLE HOURS LATER; UNDAR

He couldn’t exactly remember just when it became hard to breath and it felt like gravity was crushing him. His throat was dry and his eyelids were heavy.

He had luckily managed to drag Rex and himself near that rock overhang, allowing them just that little bit of shelter but… he wasn’t certain how much good that would do for them.

It was okay… everything was okay… the raptors were just minutes away.

Yeah.

Emmett smacked his lips together, trying his best to swallow, as he slowly succeeded against the violent weather and swiveled his head to look at Rex. His gaze was unfocused, roaming over the explorer’s rough features. His rough, older features.

The construction worker’s eyes closed shut.

He was getting so tired…

But he needed to stay awake. He— he needed to… needed to take care of his Vest Friend. The Special’s hand found his older self’s arm and squeezed with what little strength he had left. He lost the battle with unconsciousness a mere few moments before a spaceship landed not too far from them.

___________________

A/N: Hmmmm, I wonder who got to them first?

#lego movie #lego movie 2 #Emmett Brickowski #rex dangervest #lucy wildstyle #masterbuilders #fanfic #fanfiction #lego movie fanfiction

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fan-written · 4 years ago

Text

You have my sword

Warnings: this is maribat crack!fic

"One can't just walk into Paris and take the miraculous."

She didn't see who said it, her size too small while in her Miraculous form, but she did bear witness to the chaos it caused within the Justice League. Superman yelled loudly at Superboy. Batman watched from his corner while his protege Robin called for attention. Arsenal and Red Hood spoke over Aquaman and Green Arrow. The glow of Wonder Woman's lasso shown in the middle of the quickly gathering group.

It was a disaster, much like Chat's pun's, but at least some of those were funny. There was nothing humorous about this. The yelling only brought memories of the terrified screams of her people. The peacock feather pendant almost glowed with power the longer they argued. Ladybug wouldn't be shocked if the two Miraculous were tied together even now.

"I will do it!" Her own voice surprised her.

The shouting slowly stopped the more she repeated it. "I will do it. I found the peacock, I can find the butterfly."

Finally they were all seated again, looking at her. "I watched, ran, while my city burned around me. My family is still missing. My people are still dying! In spite of all of that I found this," she gestured to the pendant with distaste. "I was drawn to one, I'll be drawn to the other. Though I doubt my ability to enter unseen."

A member of the Young Justice team stepped forward, steadily meeting her eye. "I will help you with that, I have Magics Hawkmoth hasn't seen." Zatanna said.

"By my life or death, I will protect you." Robin dramatically knelt in front of her. She tried not to be offended, but it was a near thing. "You have my staffs."

Artemis stepped forward and spoke, "And you have my bow."

"And my speed." Kid flash growled out next to the archer.

"I do not trust the miraculous, little one." Aqualad walked towards her with the remainder of his team behind him. "But if this is the will of my teammates, Young Justice will see it done."

"Ladybug's not going anywhere without me!"

"Chat!" She could only blink in surprise at the appearance of her partner.

Batman glowered at him. "Indeed, not even a private meeting can separate you."

"We're coming too!" Rena Rouge yelled while she and Carapace ran down to stand at her side.

"Besides," Carapace began, "you need people of intelligence for this sort of mission, quest, thing."

Rena snorted and poked him and Chat in the sides. "Well that moves you two out then."

Batman looked them over with a critical eye. They were young, the youth of tomorrow, and they were all ready to leave their mark on the world. "Very well then. From now on you shall be the Fellowship of the Teams."

"Great!," Chat Noir cheered. "Now where are we going? Are you waking up now Ladybug?"

Ladybug blinked at him. Then felt her shoulder shake.

"Ladybug, wake up."

Her bleary eyes opened to Chat's face inches from hers. The credits to the movie they had watched were rolling in the background on her phone and the night had gotten colder around them.

"You okay, bugaboo?"

"Yeah, just a weird dream." She yawned and stretched. Her back ached from sitting on the hard rooftop for so long, but she wouldn't wish it away. Her and Chat needed the moment to themselves. They were becoming few and far between lately.

"Hey Ladybug," she looked up to find him in the middle of picking up their leftover snacks, "do you think our meeting with the Justice League will work out?"

Ladybug thought it over, her dream coming back to the forefront of her mind. "I think so. I have a good feeling about meeting the Young Justice team."

#maribat #young justice #crack fic #lotr crack fic

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justcourttee · 4 years ago

Note

So you are one of my favorite writers for the Maribat Fandom and this is litterally like just on the edge getting ready to dive into barely there territory. . . but imagine Chloe "Queen B" Bourgeois deciding that Roy Harper is her future husband because he is the only one her age with the potential to even hyphenate Queen. She /will/ get her title in her civilian life if she has to drag Roy to the courthouse herself. Cue shenanigans and chaos friends to lovers lol

You’re so sweet and I hope I did your prompt justice. I love the Roy X Chloe energy and this is just something I could picture cannon Chloe trying. I hope you enjoy! @risaxtitan

The Future Mrs. Queen

The day Oliver Queen announced to the world in that fated press conference that he was adopting Roy Harper, the younger boy had no idea how much his life was about to change.

He was still floating on Cloud 9 as he stepped off of the stage and into the crowd where his friends awaited him.

“Dude, congrats! It’s like all official now!” Adrien clapped him on the back, causing him to stumble forward a little.

“It still feels unreal.”

“Tt, it’s not like your his blood son, but I suppose this will be a good opportunity for you.”

Roy cocked his head to the side as he tried to debate if Damian was congratulating him or not. A small smack echoed following an ‘oof’ as Marinette’s bright smile entered his view.

“I’m so happy for you Roy! Conner, Jon, and Wally wanted to come with us, but you know how it goes. Always a mission somewhere.”

Roy shook his head, the smile still plastered across his face.

“It’s fine Mari, it’s not like today was the real thing. This was just a press conference. They were there when we officially signed the papers and that’s what matters in my book.”

“So, like, is your last name officially Queen now?”

Roy’s attention snapped to his left where a familiar blonde stepped out from behind Adrien. She fiddled with the ends of her curled hair, her mischievous blue eyes locked onto his. Certainly if a beautiful girl like her had told him her name, he wouldn’t have forgotten it.

“I suppose so. It’s officially Roy William Harper-Queen.”

Her smile was blinding as he nervously reached back to rub the back of his very warm neck.

“Oh Gods, we are so dense! I’m sorry Roy! This is my friend Chloe Bourgeois! Adrien was supposed to introduce you two earlier, but we all got separated in the crowd. She’s a big fan of Oliver Queen, so when she heard my dear friend was getting adopted by him-”

“I just had to come.” She stepped in front of Marinette, reaching forward to grab his hand. “Did you know that I tried to legally change my name to Queen? But my mother wouldn’t let me! She’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Something about it wouldn’t be good for my modeling career or whatever. But now, you can help me with that! Can’t be bad if it’s my husband’s last name.”

Roy stumbled out of her grasps, his entire face matching the red on his head.

“Hu-husband? Girl, we just met. You can’t go around saying things like that!”

Chloe waved off his embarrassment as her blinding smile pulled into a mischievous smirk.

“Like it or not Roy Harper-Queen, you will be my husband, even if I have to drag you to the courthouse myself!”

“Yeah right blondie.” He couldn’t help the stutter in his voice as he hid behind Damian’s chuckling figure.

There was no denying how attractive she was, but he would be damned if he let a pretty blonde step in and seal his fate.

“Maybe not today, but you’re going to love me Roy Harper-Queen, just you wait.”

The flip of her hair felt like a slap across his face as he watched her retreating figure dragging Marinette with her.

“So like, Can I be your best man? I know that you’ve known the other’s longer and all, but like we are always hanging out together! That has to count for something.”

Adrien’s wide eyes and pout earned a slight chuckle from the redhead as his eyes trailed back to where his friends stood.

“Sure Agreste, I’m sure everyone won’t mind one bit. You might have to fight Tim-”

“Tt, is that supposed to be a threat?”

Adrien and Roy shared a look before bursting into laughter. Roy slung his arms around the two boys as they headed off into the crowd. He wouldn’t see Chloe for another couple of weeks, but that didn’t stop the blonde from monopolizing his every thought.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“C’mon Arsenal, you really going to let your ass get beat by a little girl?”

Roy sneered as he pushed himself off the matt for the third time that day.

When Dick asked if he wanted to train with the Batclan, Roy was over the moon. Batman hardly let anyone into his special training spot without him being there. He didn’t think twice when he put the motorcycle in park outside of Wayne Manor. He already knew what to expect, Dick’s flexibility, Stephanie’s strategy, Damian’s rage. What he wasn’t expecting was to see a certain blonde and his two friends.

“She’s not beating my ass Stephanie, I just don’t want to hurt her.”

Dick had a hard time holding back his laugh as he leaned on Marinette for support. A hand shot into his line of view as he accepted Chloe’s helping pull him the rest of the way to his feet.

“C’mon mon chéri, your face is pretty too, but it’s not going to make me pull my punches. Give it to me, cherry.” She sent a wink in his direction as she set up for another spar.

If you asked Roy later, the red in his cheeks was from the anger at being called a cherry, but anyone could see the blush betraying him.

Chloe darted forward, dodging his first swing before smacking his butt.

“HEY!”

Roy pushed himself out of her reach as Stephanie and her shared a fist bump. There was no way he was getting out of training alive. He needed a way to finish this as quickly as possible.

“Blondie, what if we make a bet?”

Chloe raised her eyebrow at him, encouraging him to continue as she set herself back up in the circle.

“The next one of us to pin the other gets to pick the next hang out spot. I know it’s your turn in the rotation, so if you win, nobody will put a restriction on your choice.”

Her eyes glistened dangerously as a collective gasp sounded behind them.

“Hey, Roy, are you sure you want to do that? She-”

“Shut it Agreste. The boy has named his terms, no restrictions for me, or he gets to steal my turn. I’ll gladly accept Ginger.”

A sudden shift in the atmosphere was easily noticeable. Inadvertently, a shiver went down his back as every hair on his body stood in high alert. Her first strike was quick, he barely lifted his arms up in time to block it before she had hopped backwards, ready to hit again.

He thought he was the one holding back before, but clearly he was underestimating. Here she was, no longer holding back, toying with him as if he was nothing more than her prey. It was a bit terrifying.

Just as he extended his arm to try and make contact, Roy suddenly found himself on his back, her knee at his throat.

“God, when did you even knock my feet out?”

Her eyes were dancing with humor as she slowly stood, offering her hand to the boy below.

“We tried to warn you, my friend. Chloe doesn’t do competition, she destroys them.”

Adrien offered his hand as well and together the two blondes heaved him to his feet. Marnette shook her head solemnly as she and Dick mock prayed for Roy’s fate.

“So, no restrictions huh? That means overseas is fair game.” Chloe placed a hand gently on Roy’s shoulder sending a chill down his spine. “Guess tomorrow, we are going to Paris, France. Richard, is there a Zeta-Tube that does overseas?”

Dick finished his mock prayer before sending a nod in her direction.

“Perfect. Marinette, tell your little gloomy boyfriend and Timothy that we will be taking a day trip tomorrow, to the city of love.”

She sent a wink to Roy as she stepped out of the rink to grab her towel. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t ignore the racing in his heart all from one little comment.

“You are falling so hard, my friend!” Roy flinched as Dick threw his arm over his shoulder, sharing a fist bump with Adrien.

“I am not! I barely know her! We’re like acquaintances, at most she’s just a friend.”

Adrien stiffened as he bit back his laughter.

“Just you wait, after tomorrow, you’ll be questioning everything you know.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Roy was indeed questioning everything, like his sanity, as he stepped out of the tube and onto the tallest platform of the Eiffel Tower. Taking a quick step back from the edge, he found himself pressed against the cool metal.

“Isn’t it like illegal to be this high up?”

Chloe’s giggle filled the air as she smacked his arm lightly.

“Of course it is, for normal people that is. We can’t just have everyone using the Zeta tubes ginger.” Her fingers curled into his hair as she gave it a light ruffle.

“Tt, man up Harper. Even if you fall, it’s not like you’d hit the ground before someone here saved your sorry ass.”

A small ‘oof’ echoed from where Damian stood as Marinette stepped out of the tube.

“You didn’t even hear what I said!”

“True,” she shrugged, a smug smile pulling at her lips. “But I assume you were making fun of Roy.”

Damian huffed under his breath as he snaked his arm around her waist, drawing her into his side. Roy was never sure how someone like Damian could have landed a sweet angel like Marinette, but if it meant he had a constant guardian angel, he could care less.

“Where’s Adrikins?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to be a third wheel and neither does Tim.’”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the sparkle from the new information.

“Looks like it’s a double date!” She gripped Roy’s arm pulling him from his safety. “You wouldn’t leave me alone to those two annoying lovebirds would you Harper?”

Roy gulped nervously as his eyes darted between the couple and the blonde hanging off of him. With a sigh of defeat, he nodded, allowing her to pull him closer to the edge.

“I hope you’re ready Harper because if you survive today, there’s no way you won’t fall for me.”

Without warning, Chloe used all her strength to push him off the platform. The scream caught in his throat as the wind rushed past him. Some first date! Here she was trying to kill him within the first five minutes!

A flash of yellow flew past him, catching his attention briefly before an arm yanked him out of midair. This time, the scream managed to slip out, but instead of fear, he felt instant relief as he flew through the air pinned to Queen Bee’s side.

“There was an easier way of doing this Chloe!” He tried to shout over the wind but it felt useless. The only indication that she might have heard his pleas came from the sideways smile she flashed him as the came to a halt in an alleyway.

As his feet touched to ground, his legs instantly gave out. On his hands and knees, Roy reassured himself that this was safe, in solid ground. Moments later, a flash of pink blinded him as Marinette and Damian landed in front of him.

“What’s wrong Harper? You look a little green. I thought that was Oliver’s color.”

Roy’s middle finger only seemed to fuel the egotistical smirk Damian bestowed on him.

“If that was too much, I can’t wait to see how you handle the rest of the day.”

His eyes widened as he tried to imagine what could be worse than freefalling a few hundred feet from the highest structure in Paris. Little did he know, he would soon get his answer.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bourgeois.” He tried to keep his voice steady as he offered his hand to her, but the condescending stare made him want to crumble.

“What do you expect me to do? Shake your hand? Honey, you may have been adopted into money, but you are not money. I do not touch any person that is worth less than I am.”

She turned her back briskly as Roy slowly dropped his hand, unsure of whether to be insulted or not.

“Mom, Roy is my friend, can’t you be nice?”

Her mother’s cold glare rested on Chloe. Roy had no idea how she managed to stand her ground. He wanted to crumble for her.

“You are lucky I let you into my workshop after you have missed the past three fittings. When I said you could move to America with the Marianne kid, I expected you to still make time for the business. Should I begin looking for your replacement?”

The tension between the two of them was deadly. Roy wanted to step in, tell her mother to back off, that Chloe was a hero who didn’t always have time for fashion, but somehow, he figured it would only make it worse.

“No mother, I am here now am I not? Let us work quickly so that I can return home.”

Her tone was icy as she stepped forward, holding out her arms for her mother to remeasure. Roy shifted from foot to foot as he held back his tongue. Her mother commented on her weight gain, complained that she was going to begin to fat to be her model anymore. She commented on her studies, or lack of, and on her being a class d hero compared to Superman.

It was to quietest he had ever seen Chloe Bourgeois.

“If that will be all mother, Roy and I have to meet up with Damian and Marinette.”

Her mother waved her off. Not a single love you, not even a real goodbye. Roy was sure his face matched his hair by the time they had set foot back into the streets.

“So, Mari’s parent's house isn’t too far from here. Wanna swing over?”

It was as if a switch flipped. Back was the flirty social butterfly that he had gotten to know over the past couple of weeks.

“Chloe.”

“C’mon carrot top, swinging really isn’t a bad way to transport. It’s quick and effective.”

“Chloe.”

“Don’t be a chicke-”

“Chloe.”

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he knew what she was trying to do.

“Chloe, why do you let her treat you like that?”

Her lips were pressed into a tight line as she turned, taking a step away from the building.

“Chloe, you don’t have to pretend that it didn’t happen. I’m not going to tell anyone, it’s just, the Chloe I saw in there is nothing like the one I’ve come to know.”

“Well, maybe all you know is a lie.”

Her voice was quiet as she took off at a brisk pace down the street. It took Roy a second to process before he took off after her. Gently, he pulled her arm until she came to a stop once more.

“Then let me get to know the real Chloe. After all, I can’t marry someone I don’t know!”

She laughed half-heartedly at his joke, her smile weak.

“She isn’t very good with her emotions and neither am I. I know that she cares, hell, she wouldn’t let me explore this hero side of me if she didn’t think I had potential. But she always puts business first. I never wanted to go into business with her because she can’t separate family and employees. But I need the money. Daddy won’t let me touch my trust fund until I am secure on my own.”

Roy nodded, a number of things falling into place.

“Why don’t you work for Oliver or Bruce like the rest of us?”

Chloe shrugged, her fingers absentmindedly reaching for his.

“They have offered before, but I really feel like the way to her heart is through the family business. I know she wants to leave it to me one day and if I abandon it now, she might reconsider, and honestly, that would hurt her more than me. She’ll never say it to my face, but it would mean the world to me if I could be her legacy.”

A moment of silence passed, and then two as Roy admired the determination that crossed her face. Somehow, it made her more beautiful than she already was. He hadn’t even noticed how close they had gotten until a soft cough snapped him back to reality.

“Well, we only left you for like two hours. Is this a new development?”

Marinette and Damian shared a smirk as Chloe dropped his hand as if it was burning her. She tried to pull up her scarf, but it was too late. The red on her cheeks were burning, matching his he was sure.

“I don’t know what you are referring to Dupain-Cheng. Let’s head back to the tower. A certain blonde must feel my wrath.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Roy laid in bed that night, his thoughts kept wandering back to that moment.

She was so close, her lips were so close, so full, so red. They were drawing him in and if Marinette hadn’t stopped them..

“Ughh,” he buried his red face into his pillow, willing his pounding heart to still.

He rolled over to where his phone sat, the dark screen bugging him. Not a single text from her after they returned, not even one from Marinette or Damian teasing him. Reaching out, he lifted the phone toward his face.

Clicking on his photos, the most recent one lit up his entire screen, sending his heart into another fury. Chloe had borrowed his phone, leaving several adorable selfies that he only found a couple hours later.

Not that he wanted to admit it to anyone, but maybe he could admit to himself that just maybe, he was already head over heels for Chloe Bourgeois.

Just as he moved to place it back onto his charger, a text message pinged.

‘Still awake carrot top?’

Roy couldn’t help the smile that tore across his face.

‘Depends. Whose asking blondie?’

‘You’re ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Now open your window, my arm is getting tired.’

Instantly, Roy shot up as he opened his window. Looking around, he couldn’t find her. He was ready to close it when his instinct told him to look up. Sure enough, Queen Bee sat dangling, motioning for him to move out her way.

With one great heave, Chloe swung into his room, dropping her transformation before her feet even touched the ground.

“Miss me that much?”

The sound of his own voice was foreign as his wide smile was certain to leave his cheeks sore in the morning.

“Oh don’t get full of yourself Harper. I just wanted to thank you for today.”

“Mhmm, this seems mighty personal for a thank you.” He took a step forward, his stomach flipping multiple times.

“I may have also wanted to see you. After all, no text, no call. How is a girl supposed to feel after you almost kiss her?”

She stepped forward closing the gap between them, the smirk on her face as graceful as ever.

“I could say the same thing about you. Running off to another man after spending a day in the city of love with me?”

Hestitanly, he raised his hand to cup her cheek, basking in the feeling of how soft her skin felt against his palm.

“Harper, I want to be to future Mrs.Queen, so what do you say? The courthouse is still open in Paris, we can go right now.”

Roy couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. Gently, he stroked the side of her cheek, admiring her every feature. Leaning forward, he heard her breath hitch in her throat right as their lips were a mere inch apart.

“How about we start with a first date? A real date?”

Chloe’s warm breath tickled his lips as his pounding heart awaited her answer.

“I suppose Mrs. Queen will have to wait, I’ll pick you up, tomorrow Harper. Be ready.”

Just as quickly as he leaned in, she lept back, already calling her transformation. Racing to the window, she looked over her shoulder, blowing him a kiss before slinging away. Hesitantly, he approached the window, watching her retreating figure, his heart still racing a million miles a minute.

It started off a soft chuckle, but it soon grew. With a grand smile, Roy returned to his bed, his thoughts all centered around one blonde. Marriage was sounding less and less like the scary thought he had when he first met her. He wasn’t sure the exact moment that it sounded so good, but he didn’t care.

After all, Chloe Harper-Queen had a nice ring to it.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb

#maribat #chloe x roy #miraculous ladybug

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starry-bi-sky · 4 months ago

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@bianca-hooks123

YOU ARE VERY SWEET TY FOR THE COMPLIMENTS (I always love seeing you in my activity feeds btw)

ignore how long it took me to reply i had a hectic week and weekend and replying to posts takes a lot of mental effort compared to reblogging them jhladsf

ALSO YES I WILL NEVER PASS UP AN OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE DANNY A LONG-HAIRED PUNK AND GIVE HIM PIERCINGS. It is law. I must do it. In some way or another he wILL have long hair or an alternative style.

He swept Kon off his feet with a cock-eyed smile, a pair of blue eyes that could swallow you whole, and some very, very well-timed humor. For the following week that Danny is in Metropolis, he's consistently texting Kon, and vice-versa, or walking around the city with him.

Lil Damian is maybe just a taaad angry about his brother's attention being elsewhere, but he's (steadily developing into) a clingy six-year old and Danny makes it up to him for it by showing him the new places that Kon brought him to, going to places Damian wants, and spending extra long time with him during their Arabic-English learning sessions.

On another note, I have less written thoughts and moreso doodles I did yesterday inspired by this au. THat's. Literally just how I imagine Phantom's ghost form (in this specific thread) looks (post-clone revelation) and Danny.

Never not gonna pass up the opportunity to give Danny a scarf if I can. They're cool :] and it adds a little flare. It leaves a little particle trail of stars behind him when the scarf moves, and when he's stagnant they kinda just float around him. It's also got a hood, but I hate drawing hoods so by the powers vested in me, I've decided that he can just summon the hood out of existence whenever he wants with a single flick of his hand when he motions pulling it up.

It does the batkid shadow blob thing where it casts his entire face in shadows, other than his eyes and, sometimes, his mouth whenever he smiles. Creepy mfer. As he deserves :]

He does indeed, have a forked tongue. It's green. I was this 👌 close to giving him a tongue piercing for the extra flare. Kill Kon a little bit more while I was at it. His ears are a little longer/sharper as Phantom and tend to move/pin back/prick up/swivel around when he's listening to things. As Danny, his ears are shorter and have the same range of movement as a human.

I like to think he eventually has this little travel-sized satchel thing strapped to his other thigh or his waist, close to his thermos, and it's basically just a small portal into his lair. He can reach into it and pull anything out so long as its in his lair. Bottomless pit bag-lite.

I also like to imagine he develops a habit of frosting over/hiding mirrors after finding out he's a clone when his identity issues get especially bad. But that's neither here nor there.

Danny, meeting Batman as Phantom: *spiderman point* THANKS FOR THE ANXIETY DISORDER, YOU FUCK. Batman: ????? what Danny, refusing to elaborate: *disappears*

Danny's a total teaser though. Btw. Like he can't handle being flirted with but goddamn is he one mean flirter. Even if it's sometimes unintentional. He takes his natural witty banter, amps it up by eleven, and watches Kon's face turn pink like a lion watching a gazelle limp across the savanna.

One of the times Kon makes a comment on his eyes, it's to say, through a stammering voice: "Jesus-- you have eyes that could swallow a man whole." after Danny said something vaguely flirty and then watched him intently.

Which, it's not the first time someone's commented on his eyes -- even before his accident, strangers and teachers used to say that he had the brightest blue eyes they'd ever seen. They were creepy; pretty; unsettling; boring into you. A random fortune teller at the mall who was somehow even crazier than his parents, who reeked of burned wood and cheap incense, pointed at his face and ominously slurred that he had the eyes of a ghost.

(He was six at the time, and never forgot about it.)

-- it's one of the few times it's said with an uncontrollable, flustered smile and a dark blush on the commenter's face. It's one of the few times it's said as a compliment, and it's so different and so bizarre compared to the usual things he hears, that Danny tumbles straight into loud, belly-laughter. He catches his breath long enough to stumble out a confused; "Th- thank you?" that flushes Kon's face an even darker shade of red, and tilts him into more laughter.

Which, Kon is one to talk, Danny could say the same about him.

Kon knowing about the ghost stuff in Amity Park. If only for the interaction of him visiting Danny for the first time, watching a fight break out from across the street in the local tech store (Technus got out) and after the fight ends, Kon goes, mostly to himself; "I didn't know Amity had a villain problem."

Danny appears beside him suddenly, his hair even messier than usual, holding a venti-sized cup of expresso (he terrifies the newbie baristas at the nearby starbucks, they all know him by name), and sporting a brand new shiner around his eye that, when questioned, says he "forgot to duck" and then doesn't elaborate on, and blandly states: "Most don't."

Whenever he's on call with Kon, Danny complains about the ghosts like one complains about the weather. Which isn't out of the norm for cities with villains and heroes, Kon's heard all about it from Tim (and he's done it himself), but it's a little different hearing it from a 'civilian' perspective.

Kon: how long has this been going on?? Danny, sprawled over his beanbag chair and painting his nails, Damian is Elsewhere: going on about threeee--? Yeah -- wait-- yeah, no, three years now. Almost four. Danny: Ghosts began popping up at the start of my freshman year, and they've become a constant ever since. Danny: It's a pretty big shock for newcomers since Amity does a fantastic job of keeping it on the downlow so we don't tank tourist sales, and most people usually keep touch on places like Metropolis, Central City, Star City, etcetera... since that's where the more legacy heroes are. Kon: huh Danny: yeah, I would've warned you beforehand had I known you were going to visit, *half-hearted glare* but late is better than never I suppose. Danny: take your time processing. Dames needed a minute too when he moved in with us, but he's been acclimating really well to... well, everything. So if a six year old can process the reality of ghosts, I'm sure you can too. Kon, sarcastically: wow, thanks.

Also Kon asks about Phantom, and Danny is thrown for a loop for a minute. Not because Kon's asking about Phantom -- it quickly rings for him that ofc Kon would ask him about the guy fighting off all the ghosts -- but because he is abruptly made aware of the fact, that talking about himself is fucking weird.

People don't ask Danny Fenton about the Phantom. Nobody is going to ask the ghost hunter's kid who runs away at the first sight of a ghost about the ghost kid. Especially when his parents explicitly state every chance they get how much they despise the ghost kid.

So the first time Kon asks about Phantom, Danny opens his mouth to respond, and then goes "oh what the fuck". Because trying to describe himself without being too descriptive or all-knowing about it is hard, and also just weird in general.

He rubs his neck and makes an uncertain noise, and goes; "Hhn, I'm not really the person to ask about that, Connor. I don't stick around ghost fights long enough to see him that much, and my parents would ground me until I died if they found out I was hanging around him at all."

(which is actually sorta based in canon! when the GIW were investigating the area during the Gregor episode, they went to the Fentons and told the parents they had reason to believe that their son was friends with the ghost kid. Maddie and Jack looked visibly upset by this, and when Jack called for Danny, he used the all-too-well-known parental tone of "you are in SO much trouble, young man")

Then he shrugs, and settles back into his chair, "Phantom doesn't really stick around after ghost fights anyways, from what I've heard. He's pretty shy; doesn't really talk to the living."

I am thinking about these two SO much

Over 900 prompt

Okay I love the Danny is a clone of Batman aus but I've never seen this done.

Danny and Kon dating and Then Danny learning his parents cloned Batman thinking he is a ghost only to find out he isn't and kept Danny as their kid.

Just think of the hilarious reactions

Caue this immediately popped into my head.

Kon: *muffled screaming into Tim's couch*

Tim: ....you good?

Kon: danny is the clone of Batman

Tim: ...

Kon: I'm the clone of Superman

Tim:...

Kon: AND WE ARE DATING!

#more rambling from starry #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #clone danny #i hc that (at least this version) danny's drastic wardrobe change is practically a direct result of finding out he's a clone.#identity crises and all. he was slowly growing a blasé attitude to gender and stuff post death but finding out he was a clone just.#expedited the process. lol. lmao even. which yeah i mentioned in my initial reblog but. i felt like extrapolating more on it ajlshef #he was sticking his feet in the water and was somewhat starting to explore stuff out of his usual comfort zone. and then clone reveal was #him basically doing a cannonball straight into it right after. went thru a whole explorative stage before settling into his current style #best part about clone aus is the inevitable breakdown danny has over finding out a huge chunk of his life is a lie. like WOW. THATS NO GOOD #anyways i would like to apologize for the amount of doodles that has phantom sticking his tongue out i was experimenting with expressions #and also just really wanted to give him a forked tongue. i wasnt initially going to share that last one but i suck at front profiles #and it turned out fucking AWESOME and so i had to share it. even if i feel vaguely mortified about it #also the fourth one is a reference to that great british bakeoff dude. 'started making it. had a breakdown. bon appetite' except in my #heart of hearts i just knew i had to make danny say 'bone apple teeth' instead. like that's totally something this dork would say #these two are MAD flirting w/ e/o even after they start dating. the flirting doesn't stop. it actually just gets worse. danny makes it a #game to see how red he can make kon blush. he is also very physically affectionate and touchy. can and will drape himself over kon if #given the opportunity. kon calls him a cat and then just carries him around. which is great because 5/10 danny mAY just pass out #Kon: how much coffee have you had today | danny: you dont want the answer to that hotstuff. | kon: naptime then *lays on him*#kon has to figure out a way to ask danny why tf his pulse is so slow compared to the normal person #danny is 90% positive kon is a meta. kon is also 90% positive that danny is a meta. they are both not that far off and also Wrong

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Don’t Call Me That (pt. 1)

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Aftermath of torture, healing, and sex in later chapter hehe

Word count: 9000

Summary: The new Robin and Batman stumble upon a cell in Arkham Asylum that was occupied by a very much injured, and very much still alive Jason Todd. Bringing him back, Bruce realises that Jason is unstable and keeps him locked in a room in the mean time. Reader helps Jason get used to being around another human being once more, and finds herself falling deeply with the damaged Jason.

A/N: This was meant to be a one-shot, but I realised that it's a bit too long, so I'm splitting it into two chapters. Here's whatever I wrote so far. Psst, the sex will come later! I think this has got to be the most favourite one-shot I’ve written so far!! I’m addicted to this story, and I hope you guys will like it too! Let me know!

Masterlist

Kofi

Ao3

The light was getting dimmer and dimmer the further you strayed from the main building. The walls cracked, wallpaper peeling back to reveal brick and concrete. The air was getting thin, and the smell.

Rat piss, sewage, and that suffocating damp humid smell that reminded you of dirty laundry- except it filled the whole Old Wing of Arkham Asylum.

“Do youreally think the security breach was sourced from here, Batman?” you voiced out your doubts.

He was walking next to you, his steps hardly making a sound. “We need to make sure. Half of the East Wing’s cells were suddenly opened automatically. There is a main powerframe in the Old Wing that someone could have damaged.”

“Someone, as in..?”

“Not sure. Joker has been in his cell for the past 19 months since he broke out two years ago.”

You ignored the way his voice cracked at the end.

Two years ago, before you were involved with Bruce Wayne and his fight for justice, Joker had broken free, got hold of Jason Todd, your predecessor whom you had never met, kidnapped him, tortured him, and then killed him. After sending a video tape of his Todd’s death to Bruce, he went and created a drug that made people go crazy and kill each other. Bruce caught him then, broke half the bones in his body, and then threw him back in the asylum.

“Why did they stop using this wing?” you asked, your voice echoing back to you.

The two of you were walking down a corridor, with cells on either side. Each cell had a metal door with a rectangular slot at the top of the door to peek inside and another longer slot in the middle for passing inmates food. Some of the doors were opened ajar, nothing inside but old beds and overflowing toilet bowls, some were locked shut.

Your heart was racing. It was like you were in a horror movie. You stepped over the empty gas canisters and toilet paper that was strewn all over the floor of the corridor, walking around a rusty old wheelchair and made sure to follow Batman closely.

“Abandoned when a riot broke out five years ago,” he answered, “Something about hauntings.”

“Hauntings?” you widen your eyes.

“These are superstitious folk,” he explained, “The riot took a dozen lives. Violently. Some nurses got tortured. Rumour has it that this wing is haunted.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” you declared, though you felt chills run down your spine anyway.

“Indeed. Some of the security guards say they’ve heard screams coming from here. None dared to approach.”

“Screams? Please, I’m sure it’s just the-”

A crash came from one of the cells. You jumped so violently in shock that you tripped over a catheter on the ground. You and Batman looked at each other for one second, and then he raised his finger to his lips, making sure you kept quiet.

Nodding, you followed behind him as he investigated the cell the sound came from. He slid open the viewing window of the door, and despite the darkness you saw his expression twist to one you’ve never seen before.

Horror.

He took out a small explosive from his belt and attached it to the door. A small boom, and the door swung open. Batman rushed inside, and you were hit with the worst smell you’ve ever experienced. It made you gag, your eyes tearing up.

It smelled of blood and human feces and urine, and something that was decomposing, like the big trash bins lined up behind one of those dank alleys, overflowing with a week’s worth of disposal.

The cell was bigger than the others, and it didn’t have a bed. Only a toilet and a wooden chair that was toppled. Batman was next to the chair, kneeling on the ground over something, unmoving, as if frozen in spot, his back turned to you.

“B?” you whispered, “What is this place?”

There were scratches on the walls, some in blood. Little bones were tossed in a corner, lying in what looked- and smelled- like dry vomit.

You walked over to him, slowly approaching with caution. As you got nearer, your vision became clearer.

He was kneeling over an unconscious man wearing your Robin uniform.

Now, it was your turn to be horrified.

The uniform was tattered, cape dirty and stained with bodily fluids. The man?

Scars and dried blood littered his face and arms, his dark hair matted and sticky. He was obviously large, his frame almost as big as Bruce’s, yet you could see that he was malnourished, his cheeks slightly hollowed, his skin hanging loosely over the remains of his muscles.

And he was still breathing.

***

Alfred, Bruce, and you stared in silence at the man on the bed, now clean and hooked to an IV. None of you had said a word since you got back. Alfred was rigid the whole time he cleaned and examined him, with Bruce shadowing him closeby. You could do nothing but stand back, waiting for an explanation.

Now you were in the infirmary, the steady beat of vital signs machinery annoyed you.

“How is he alive?” Alfred broke the tension with a small whisper.

“There were small animal bones in his cell,” Bruce said with a strained voice. You knew he was doing his all to keep it together.

“Goodness,” Alfred responded, “But- the video-”

“Must have been a fake,” Bruce said, his voice now cracking, “I should have known. I should have- I- oh, God.”

Without warning, Bruce crumpled to his feet. You have never seen him like this. He was always strong, stoic, and he never let his emotions show.

The sight of him burying his face in his hands in anguish- it scared you.

“It’s not your fault, Master Bruce,” Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, “You couldn’t have-”

A grunt came from Jason Todd as he stirred awake. All three of you snapped your heads to him. You saw the way he opened his eyes, blinking at his surroundings as he tried to register where he was. Bruce rushed to his side.

That was his mistake.

Jason Todd started screaming.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” he roared, sitting up and crawling out of bed, ripping the IV from his hand.

“Jason-”

“NO!” he yelled, “YOU’RE NOT REAL. STAY AWAY!”

His voice was deep and hoarse, like someone who had been screaming his whole life.

“Jason, it’s me,” Bruce tried to slowly approach him. He was on his feet now, though he stumbled getting there. His expression was wild, his mouth downturned into a scowl, his eyes darting from Bruce, to Alfred, to you, to the bed, to the whole room, like a wild animal cornered.

“This is real?” he growled a question.

“Yes, son,” Bruce assured, “This is real. We found you. Please, lie back down. You’re hurt.”

“You’re… real?” his voice broke halfway.

“Yes, I’m real,” Bruce’s voice was the same.

Then, Jason let out a laugh. A loud, haunting, hysterical laugh that was absent of humor.

“Good.”

He jumped at Bruce and tackled him to the ground, his fingers around Bruce’s neck. You reacted quickly, rushing over and kneeing him in the face so that he let go of your Bruce and stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly and set his eyes on you.

He proceeded to attack you, but before anything, Bruce had him restrained, wrestling him to the ground.

“Jason! Calm down!”

“NO!” he shouted, “NO! NO! IT’S YOUR FAULT. IT’S YOUR FUCKING FAULT. DIE! DIE!”

He trashed about with surprising power, trying to get Bruce off him. Bruce got his arm around Jason’s neck, and you saw him clawing at his arm, attempting to break free. The younger man’s movements got slower, weaker, as Bruce cut his oxygen supply and eventually knocked him out.

Bruce carried his son to the bed.

“Alfred, please sedate him,” he instructed. “We’ll move him to the cell downstairs. He’s too unstable to be here.”

“Are you okay?” you reached out to your adoptive father.

“Yes,” he nodded, “He’s surprisingly strong.”

“He’s a survivor, Bruce,” you smiled at an attempt to comfort him, “I can’t imagine what he’s been through, but he’ll get through this.”

“I hope so.”

***

The cell Bruce had in the Batcave was less like a cell, and more like a room. It was a large square box with four walls and a roof on one side of the Cave, with high end security. It had double doors, each requiring a registered thumbprint to enter. Bruce had built it in case he needed to hold someone hostage there. The outer layer was made out of lead, and you wondered what had gone through Bruce’s mind when he added that feature. The cell even had a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, and a sink.

This time, though, he made sure the room with white interiors looked more comfortable for Jason. He put in a double single bed with fluffy sheets and pillows, a whole bookshelf full of classic literature, a cupboard, a desk and chair complete with a table lamp.

Jason was still sedated when all of you moved him to the cell. He had been sedated for a while so he wouldn’t wake up and rip off his IV. You helped lift him up, and found that he was heavy, heavier than you had expected him to be.

Then, Bruce went to the Batcomputer and switched on the security camera inside the cell and watched as he slowly regained consciousness and went all ballistic again. He toppled over the shelf, the chair, the desk. Threw the books around, ripped out the pages, punched the walls, and was screaming.

“Let me go!” “Fuck you!” “I’m going to fucking kill you!” were some amongst the many extremities he shouted at the camera.

And you watched as Bruce stared into the screen showing his broken, damaged son.

***

“He’s quiet,” you pointed out when you walked over to Bruce at the computers. It had been a week of watching Jason scream and thrash about in the room- which was a complete mess.

“Yes, he has been that way for a few hours now,” Bruce frowned.

You saw from the screen. Jason was just sitting down in one corner of the room, staring into space.

“Well, at least he didn’t throw the food down the toilet bowl this time,” you shrugged and sat down next to him. Alfred would bring a tray of warm soft foods and set it on the tray of the rectangular food delivery hole of the second, internal door.

Out of spite, Jason would take the food and throw it down the toilet before returning it empty. This time, you saw that it just sat there on the tray, untouched.

“I was thinking,” Bruce mentioned, “Of bringing in Dr. Leslie or Dinah. He is familiar with both of them. They could help with putting him on medication and giving him psychotherapy.”

“Yeah, for some reason,” you began, “I don’t think he’ll take that so well.”

“I… don’t know what to do.”

You stayed silent for a few moments. The past week, you saw Bruce in a light you had never seen before. Emotional, vulnerable, helpless. You appreciated that he trusted you enough to reveal that side of himself in front of you.

“Let him calm down a bit,” you suggested, “And maybe… Maybe I can help.”

“How?” he frowned.

“If you bring in Leslie or Dinah, he’ll know in an instant what you’re up to,” you explained. “And maybe it’s too soon for therapy. I think right now he just needs to get used to being around another human being.”

“Hmm,” Bruce considered, “Okay. We’ll go with your idea. How will you do it?”

Your heart swelled with joy. You loved it when he acknowledged you.

You waited a couple of days before trying it out. The whole while, Jason was just sitting down in his corner, silent and unmoving.

Nervously, you approached the first door on the external side of the box, pressing your thumb to the digital square on the wall and hearing it beep in approval. You opened the door and closed it behind you before approaching the second door.

You took a deep breath, felt for the taser on your belt, and then pressed your thumb on the second door.

The first thing you saw when you opened the door was Jason scrambling to his feet in surprise, his eyes vigilant. You lift both your hands up in surrender.

“Not here to hurt you,” you said slowly, “Just here to chill.”

He narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion.

To prove it to him, you sat down on the floor by the door, and took out your book. Heart beating in your chest, you tried to calmly open the book and stared intensely at the words, not reading anything.

In your peripheral vision, he just stood there, stiff and still like a statue, staring at you, analysing you. You had expected him to attack, but ten minutes passed, and he was still there.

Then-

“What do you want?” he croaked, voice harsh and gritty.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, eyes not leaving your book, “Just chilling.”

A momentary pause.

“Leave.”

“No,” you simply said, turning a page.

“Why are you here? Did he send you?” he demanded.

“No. I just want to read in silence, if you don’t mind,” you rolled your eyes.

You wished you could see his expression.

Another five minutes passed, and he didn’t say anything else, or do anything else, but stare at you in caution.

After an hour, you got up and left, leaving a very confused Jason Todd in his cell.

***

You continued that routine for the next three days without exchanging a word with Jason. He would just stand there and glare at you for an hour while you pretended to read. On the fourth day, however, there were more than just a few words exchanged.

“You again,” he growled at you as you entered.

“Hello,” you smiled warmly.

“What do you want from me?” he barked.

“Nothing,” you repeated, “I just want to-”

“Chill?” he cut you off, “I don’t fucking believe you. I don’t trust you. What is he planning? Is he trying to mock me?”

“Mock you?” you responded, taken aback, “Why would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jason grit, “He’s done worse. He just wants to see me suffer.”

“What?” you frowned, “No. He just wants to help you.”

“Well, he’s too late for that,” he spat.

“Look-”

“Get the fuck out. Don’t come back.”

“He thought you died,” you tried to explain, “Jok- He got sent a video. Of you getting shot. Dying. He didn’t know.”

“I don’t care,” he fumed.

“He loves you, Jason,” you said softly.

Then, a light flickered in his eye. “What did you call me?”

“Uh, Jas-”

You choked on your words when Jason suddenly had his hands around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs. You didn’t have time to react, scratching away at his arm helplessly.

“Don’t call me that,” he growled.

You were going to reach for your taser, but then he let you go and went back to his corner. You sucked in a deep breath, eyes watering.

You ran out-

-and closed the door behind you to lean against it, trying to get your breath back.

“Are you okay?” Bruce worried, approaching you fast, “I’m sorry. I should have waited out here instead of at the computers.”

“I’m fine,” you panted, “He didn’t hurt me. Just scared me a bit, that’s all.”

“This was a bad idea,” he frowned, “We should stop-”

“No!” you hurriedly denied, “No. It was my fault. I didn’t know. I said his name. He didn’t like it and reacted to it, that’s all. I won’t say his name next time.”

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

“Bruce, please,” you insisted, “I want to help him. Please, let me continue.”

You looked at your father’s blue eyes, full of concern. “Okay.”

***

Despite the scare he gave you, you were ready to enter again the next day. There was something about Jason Todd that made you feel like you owed it to him to help. Maybe it was plain pity, or maybe it was the way that his eyes had a flicker of hope when he realised he wasn’t imagining things.

The digital screen beeped in approval as it registered your thumbprint, and you pushed open the door. Jason was already standing, muscles taut, ready to spring at the first sense of danger.

You didn’t say a word, but just smiled at him and sat down where you usually did, pushing over the fallen books and torn paper on the floor to create a little space for yourself.

Trying your best not to look nervous, you opened your book and stared at the words again.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he grit.

“Yeah, well. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want to get rid of me, my dude.”

“I’m not your dude,” he said in disgust.

You looked over to him and smirked. “Whatever you say.”

And you continued to pretend to read.

After several minutes, you heard a heavy sigh coming from Jason. Out of the corners of your eye, you saw him give up and slump back onto the ground, his knees up to his chest. He leaned his head back against the wardrobe and closed his eyes.

And for the first time in his presence, you found that you were actually reading.

***

You continued for a month. Entering and sitting down for a couple of hours to read before going back out. Sometimes with few exchanges of “Good morning” or “Miss me?”, mostly going unresponded. Sometimes he would sit down and glare at you, or stand up and glare at you, or sit down and rest his head and close his eyes. Always from a distance.

The first time you started picking up the books and rearranging them back onto the bookshelf, he looked like he was about to burst a vein in his temple.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“I’m cleaning up,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Don’t.”

“What are you gonna do, choke me again?” you rolled your eyes.

You could almost hear him seething in his corner, vibrating in anger.

The next day you came back, the books were back on the floor, strewn everywhere.

But every time before you left, you would still rearrange them back.

Sometimes you would bring in food with you, simply leaving the tray on the desk. He did eat a little, but never when you were around, and never more than a few bites. He ate only to survive. In fact, the more you went to see him, the more you started to notice the little things.

His bed was unmade, the sheets pulled back and covers thrown about. But you knew he had never once slept in it. He never changed his clothes either. It had started to bother you, because he never showered, and his body odour was getting quite distinct.

His eyes were sunken and dark, his hair was greasy and messy, his facial hair overgrown. You wondered if Bruce left a razor in there for him. It was probably a bad idea.

One day while you were sitting down and reading, Jason was in his corner, curled up and eyes closed, Alfred entered the first door and slid in a tray of food from the compartment of the second door. You got up to take it, feeling Jason’s eyes on you as you walked. But instead of setting the tray on the desk like you usually did, you put it on the ground next to you as you sat and read again.

That day, the menu was pumpkin soup with toast. Alfred had always kept the food light and easy to digest. You picked up a piece of toast from the plate, dipped it in the soup, and ate it while reading.

“Are you eating my fucking food?” Jason fumed from the distance.

“Someone should,” you bit back, dipping the toast back in the soup and continued to eat.

“Stop it.”

You looked over at him with challenging eyes. “Why should I?”

“It’s my food,” he insisted.

Jason hardly ever talked to you. In fact, that was the most words you’ve heard him say in a couple of weeks. He was possessive over his food, apparently, which didn’t make sense because he hardly ever ate.

“But it’s not like you eat it,” you argued, curious as to where this would take you, “I’m making sure it doesn’t go to waste.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, and then shifted slightly closer, leaning in towards you. “Give it to me.”

You pretended to consider it for awhile. “No.”

He growled.

“Come and take it if you want it so badly,” you challenged.

Immediately, you regretted it. Because he got up, and walked slowly towards you, looming over you like a predator watching its prey. Your heart started to beat faster in your chest, your palms started beading with sweat.

He then crouched down and snatched the piece of toast from your hands, taking the tray away and walked back towards his spot on the floor. Setting the tray down, he immediately started to ravish the soup and toast, his eyes never leaving yours the whole time.

It was the most he’d eaten ever since he arrived.

“You shouldn’t eat too fast,” you warned, “Your stomach’s not used to that amount of food yet.”

“Watch me.”

He cleaned the bowl in three minutes as you stared in shock.

***

“Who are you?” Jason asked out of the blue.

It was your sixth week there. Six weeks of sitting down in silence and hardly ever talking. Occasionally cleaning up after him, just to see the room messy again. Occasionally trying to spark up conversation, only to be greeted by silence. But that time, it was him who started it first.

You told him your name, still pleasantly surprised at his engagement.

“I don’t give a fuck what you’re called,” he spat, “It doesn’t explain to me who you are.”

Frowning, you closed the book. You wondered if it was a good idea to tell him that you were Bruce’s newly adopted daughter. Would he feel betrayed? Jealous? But if you didn’t and he found out, wouldn’t that be worse? Plus, you didn’t want to lie to him.

After all, you were trying to help.

“Bruce adopted me a year ago,” you explained, “I’m officially his adopted daughter. I’ve only recently been Robin. When we found you, it was just my second month.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, his jaw clenched. “Typical. Lose one toy, find another one to play with.”

“I’m not a toy,” you defended heatedly, “He… saved me. I owe him.”

He didn’t ask, but you knew he wanted to, so you continued anyway. “He found me at a bid. A human trafficking bid. After my parents died, I ran away from the orphanage. I got kidnapped. After finding out I was a virgin, they organised an event to see who would bid the highest to own me.”

It seemed like Jason’s expression didn’t change, his mouth still in a scowl. But you saw the way his eyes softened. It was a good idea to explain, after all. He must have drawn conclusions that Bruce had replaced him with you shortly after his death.

“Batman crashed the party right before I was about to get sold off for… Five thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars,” you scoffed, “I guess that was how much I was worth. Could you even buy a car with that? I’m not sure. Maybe a used one.”

“Anyway, I was quite shaken up. He took pity on me, I guess. Maybe it was my puppy dog eyes that made me look so pathetic that he decided to take me in. Mom always said I had a pathetic look,” you shrugged, “That’s who I am I guess. Now I’m in my last year of highschool. I turn seventeen in two months! I'm only a year or so younger than you. You don’t have to get me anything, of course. It’s cool. I never really cared much for birthdays anyway.”

You tried to lighten the mood, but all you saw was Jason’s unchanging expression. You guessed that was as much as he was willing to say that day, so you got up and started cleaning again despite knowing he was going to just mess it up.

***

He did mess it up again, but what shocked you that day was not the mess, but the fact that he was actually on the bed. The bed was still unmade, and he was sitting unnaturally upright, but still. It was progress.

You sat down on the floor and read your book. After five minutes, he asked, “What’s the book about?”

Trying your hardest not to look surprised in case he took it the wrong way, you answered, “A brief history of mankind. From evolution, to the agricultural revolution, to the current day.”

He just blinked at you in response, and you wondered when was the day that he had stopped glaring at you.

You tried to break the ice. “Bruce put all the books he thought you might like on the shelf. I’ve noticed that they’re mostly classic literary novels. You like those, huh?”

Not a word.

“I never really could get into those. I tried, but it’s not my thing, you know? Or maybe I started with the wrong book.”

He closed his eyes instead of answering you.

Sighing, you decided not to push it, and went back to your book.

About fifteen minutes passed. And then-

“You like science and shit?” he spoke up, his eyes boring into yours.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, taken aback by the sudden question.

“Start with Jules Verne. Twenty thousand leagues,” he told you, then closed his eyes again.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

Silence.

***

“Why do you sit there?” Jason asked you two days later.

“Huh?”

“Why do you sit on the floor when there's a desk?” he repeated in annoyance, like an underpaid customer service worker at the mall.

“Well, I didn't want to intrude on your space,” you told him.

“You being here already intrudes my space,” he rolled his eyes.

Jason was more relaxed now. He was actually leaning against a propped pillow on the bed, one knee brought to his chest, the other leg crossed over it.

And he was reading a fucking book.

“...so you can sit anywhere you like. Doesn't make a difference,” he continued.

“Then can I sit on the bed next to you?” you teased lightly.

You had expected him to glare at you in contempt, to tell you to fuck off or get out, or even not respond to you at all. So you were very much surprised when he said what he did.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Despite trying your best to act neutral, your jaw dropped. You quickly recovered, and cleared your throat nervously, standing up and slowly walking towards him. Jason shuffled a bit, going upwards against the wall at the head of the bed.

You slowly sat down at the foot of it, still maintaining some distance from him for his sake. Bringing your bare feet up, you crossed them and leaned against the wall the bed was pushed against.

Getting comfortable, you opened your book and started reading. For two hours, you and Jason Todd sat on the bed next to each other, reading with no other sounds except the occasional rustling of a page being turned.

You closed your book once you were done, but before you could get up, he asked in a small voice. “How long was I… There?”

The way his voice was shaky, the way it came out in a harsh whisper, and the fact that it had taken him seven weeks to ask- it tugged at your heart.

“Two years,” you said objectively, making sure no emotions leaked into your voice.

“And he thought I was dead the whole time?” he grumbled.

“Yes.”

“That's why he never came?” he choked out.

Fuck, you tried not to let your tears fall.

“Yes,” you whispered back.

“World's greatest detective, my ass,” he snorted.

“He's killing himself over this,” you told him softly, “I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Like what?” he demanded, looking at you with anger, with red eyes pooling with tears.

“Vulnerable. Clueless. Breaking down and crying next to you while you slept,” you elaborated. “You may not forgive him for now, and that's understandable. But Bruce? He’ll never forgive himself. Not in a million years.”

“Please leave.”

You didn't argue. You didn't hang around to clean up. You left immediately, because of the way he said his please, like someone who was tired, so tired. It was the way he told you to leave, it wasn't out of anger or spite. It was out of desperation. Because he was looking away when he told you, refusing to let you see the tear that fell on his face that you saw anyway.

***

“What are you looking at?” he grunted. “Close your mouth. You look like an idiot.”

You snapped your mouth close, not even aware that it was ajar.

The room was exceptionally clean- cleaner than when you cleaned it yourself. Jason had properly made the bed, fitted the sheets and folded the covers. The torn pages of paper were gone, and on his shelf were all his books, neatly arranged.

In alphabetical order.

Yet, Jason was still smelly, and he still hadn’t changed his clothes despite the wardrobe full of fresh t-shirts and pants.

“You clean up better than I do,” you grumbled, sitting at the foot of his bed carefully.

“That’s because you’re useless,” he snapped.

You tried not to smile despite his insult. The bickering was fun, and it showed that he was more familiar with you now.

Trying to push it a little further, you narrowed your eyes at him and started sniffing the air loudly.

“You smell,” you told him.

“If you don’t like it, leave,” he bit back.

“There’s hot water in the shower you know,” you reminded him, “You could go shower. I’ll wait right outside.”

“What for?” he eyed you suspiciously.

“For moral support!” you grinned, holding two thumbs up.

And whaddaya know?

He snorted a laugh, and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, “You really stink. You’d give Killer Croc a run for his money with that stench.”

“If you don’t like it,” he leaned closer towards you, “Leave.”

“Ugh,” you grunted. And then, you had an idea. Probably a bad idea. He would probably murder you.

You stood up and announced, “I’ll be right back.”

After ten minutes of running around the mansion looking for items, you finally came back with a bucket, a sponge, and a fluffy towel.

“What the hell are you up to?” Jason demanded, sitting upright.

“If you won’t go to the shower, then I’ll bring the shower to you,” you grinned triumphantly and went to fill the bucket with warm water from the shower. You set down the filled bucket on the floor and motioned to Jason.

“Well, get on the floor.”

“What?”

“I’m going to give you a bath, and if you stay on the bed, it’s going to get all wet,” you explained, “So get on the floor and take off your shirt.”

He stared at you with bewilderment in his eyes, and then suddenly let out a bark of laughter. “Why on Earth would I listen to you?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to splash all this water on you, and you’re going to have to sleep in a wet bed,” you threatened.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he bickered.

“Fine, I’ll bargain with you,” you said, “If you listen to me, I’ll tell him to turn that off.”

You pointed to the single security camera at the top corner of the room, always switched on, watching and recording.

He clenched his jaw, contemplating your tempting offer.

“Fine,” he conceded, and slid to the floor, taking off his shirt.

You smirked.

“If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked,” he smirked back.

You really didn’t expect him to mess with you like that, and in result, you felt your cheeks heat up.

“N-no,” you denied, “I- you just stink.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you kneeled in front of him, bringing the bucket of water closer. You took the sponge and soaked it, but before you pressed it on his skin, you just realised the situation you put yourself in.

That close to Jason, with him looking up at you and waiting, you gulped. Because his body wasn’t as bad as you thought two years of starvation would have caused. Sure, he was definitely skinnier than he should ever be, and his muscles were barely there, but his overall frame, the structure of his body was still large.

You finally pressed the sponge against his rising and falling chest, not meeting his eyes. The warm water spilled from the sponge and trickled down his chest, onto his stomach. You moved your hand in a wiping motion, cleaning the sweat off the surface of his skin.

Scars littered his body, healed cuts of various sizes. Some were burns, some were bullet wounds, and some were the crescent shapes of bites.

You moved the sponge to his arms, wiping down the contour of the remaining biceps he had left, going under to wash his pits, then going down to his forearms, which you noticed had long rough scars running down from his wrists to the crook of his elbows.

Your chest tightened.

Despite the hell he went through, you still thought he was beautiful.

You felt your breathing start to quicken.

Moving to his stomach next, you noticed that the water had seeped into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, making it turn dark, making it stick to his skin, stick to the long cylindrical shape of his-

“Your pupils are dilated,” he pointed out.

Your eyes snapped back to his.

“Wh-what- I wasn’t- they’re not!” you sputtered angrily.

He looked at you with an odd expression. Well, any expression that wasn’t a hateful glare was odd, you supposed. But his eyelids were droopy, the corners of his mouth relaxed and not tight.

It looked like he was actually enjoying it.

“You don’t find me disgusting?” he whispered.

You frowned at him in question, bringing the sponge up to wash his neck. “Well, you smell a bit gross. But by the time I’m done with you, that’ll be gone.”

“No. I meant by me. My body. My face. You don’t think I’m disgusting?” he said in a voice so small, you could barely make out the words.

His body made you think things, but none of them were disgusting. In fact, if he looked like that now, you wondered how his body must have looked like before, when he was healthy. You glanced at his face.

He had scars there too. One at the corner of his upper lip that made him seem like he was permanently smirking, one across the bridge of his nose, another long one that cut from his temple down to his brow, barely missing his eye. And you didn’t even count the smaller ones, silver little lines that were scattered all over his skin.

His cold blue eyes had scars in them as well. Not physically, not literally. But when you stared deep into them, you could almost see how truly scarred he was, and that scar had nothing on the ones you could actually see.

“There is no way that I could ever find you disgusting,” you told him earnestly.

He stared at you for a while, and then looked away to the side. You soaked the sponge and wiped his face, pressing it to his cheek. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he allowed you to travel up to his hair, wetting it, going behind his ears, and back to his nape.

With a plunk, you dumped the sponge in the water and then opened the cap of the soap you had brought.

In an instant, Jason recoiled from you, “No. No soap.”

“Just a little bit?” you pressed.

“No soap,” he insisted, pushing your hand away, “It smells too strong. Makes me sick.”

And suddenly, it clicked.

The reason why he left his room in a mess, the reason why he didn’t sleep on the bed, the reason why he never showered or changed.

Because it was all too much.

The sudden change from a disgusting, smelly, rat-infested torture room to a clean, proper, neat environment with a warm bed. It was too much for him, and he wasn’t used to it yet.

He wasn’t used to being clean.

And the smell of a perfumed body wash would most definitely be too much for him.

“Okay,” you nodded, setting the soap down. “Then I’ll wash you up one more time, is that okay?”

He nodded, still not looking at you.

You were back at his face again for the second time, and then you cupped his cheek, using your thumb to feel the roughness of his overgrown facial hair.

“Do you want me to help shave you?” you asked.

“No way in hell would I ever let you come near my fucking face with a razor,” he scoffed.

“Fair enough,” you mumbled back a reply.

Once you were done, you took the towel and wiped him dry, trying your best to avoid looking at his crotch because you knew his pants were absolutely soaked through. You got up and went to the wardrobe to take a fresh pair of pants- a black sweatpants this time- and a white t-shirt. You set them on the bed, and took the bucket to the bathroom to throw away the contents.

Once you were done, Jason was already changed into his new pants, and had just finished putting on his t-shirt. He looked much better, fresher, and-

“You smell way better now,” you chuckled.

“I did what you asked,” he said, “You better make that happen.”

He gestured to the camera with his thumb.

“I will. Promise,” you smiled, picking up his stinky shirt and wet pants before heading out.

***

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bruce grumbled.

“He’s not an experiment, or a criminal, Bruce,” you argued, “There’s no reason for you to keep surveillance on him that way. He deserves his privacy.”

“It’s about safety. His and yours,” he explained, “I wouldn’t know what’s going on in there while you’re inside if the camera is deactivated. I wouldn’t know if he’s- if he’s hurting himself.”

“I trust him, Bruce,” you insisted, “And he trusts me too! Look at what happened! He let me give him a freaking sponge bath!”

Bruce frowned in contemplation.

“He’s finishing his meals, he’s reading, he’s actually having conversations with me,” you listed, “He’s improving. Fast. Next thing you know, he and I could be best friends.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “But next time you go in, you’re bringing a panic button with you.”

The panic button you kept whenever you went for patrol was so that you could trigger a silent alarm to Bruce if you were in trouble.

“Okay, that’s fair!” you nodded your head excitedly, watching him as he pressed a button on the keyboard, switching off the camera in Jason’s room. The last thing you saw on the screen was Jason lying down on the bed, sleeping soundly.

***

“Okay, so,” you announced, standing up while you opened the plastic bag, “I got you a few things.”

Jason was on the bed, but proceeded to get up on his feet and tower over you. For some reason, he had started sitting or standing closer to you.

“I got you unscented shampoo and body wash,” you looked into the bag, naming the items you got, “Unscented shaving cream, and an electric shaver! You can’t hurt yourself with this, so Bruce agreed to-”

You looked up and gasped slightly at the closeness of his face to yours. You didn’t realise that he had stepped over so close to you that you could almost feel his warm breath on your face. Almost.

He took the plastic bag from your hands, his skin brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, it gave you goosebumps. He turned around with the plastic bag now in his hands, leaving you in shock.

That is, until he started taking off his shirt.

“W-woah!” you called out, “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my clothes,” he simply said, now not wearing a shirt.

“Why?”

“Because I want to shower,” he looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. “Why? Wanna join?”

“Wh-wh-j-join?” you stuttered, “Uh, no thanks. I’ll just. Leave you to it, then.”

You turned to leave. Then-

“Wait.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning back around to look at him, trying your best to maintain eye contact.

“Is that… diner in Gotham Village still around?” he asked quietly.

“The corner one on Vincent Street? Sure, it is,” you tilted your head in curiosity, “Would you… like anything from there?”

“The burger,” he said gruffly.

Your mouth widen into a smile. It was the first time he ever asked for anything, more so food. “Fries?”

“Sure.”

“Milkshake?”

“Yeah.”

“Chocolate?”

“Strawberry!” he looked at you as if you were crazy, and then disappeared into the toilet.

“I’ll be back in an hour!” you announced, skipping out in joy.

Vibrating with excitement, you opened the door to Jason’s room, not expecting to see a totally different man in his bed.

No, it was still Jason, but fuck.

Fuck.

He cleaned up well.

Finally showering after eight weeks, Jason Todd had transformed into an almost different person. His uncut hair that poked his eyes was no longer greasy. In fact, it had a slight bounce to it now.

He changed his shirt into a light blue V-neck, and most significantly of all, he shaved

Now you could see the way his angular jawline was cut into a shape as if some Greek artist sculpted it, the way his pink lips stood out against his milky skin - lack of tan from being kept indoors for so long, the way his cheekbones highlighted his facial structure.

And as if you didn’t think of it before, you thought about it again.

Jason Todd was a freaking hottie.

“Uhh, uhmm, uhhh,” you said, stunned and fully aware of the way your face was probably flushing.

He let out a chuckle, and walked towards you, reaching out to take the bags of food from your hand. All the while you were stunned in silence, unsure of how to react to the changed man.

“Anyone home?” he snapped his fingers in front of you.

“Uh, yes, sorry,” you shook your head, “I, uh, didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

“Expect what?” he set the bags on his desk, reaching in to take a fry. “Me to look so good?”

You were sure your ears were burning. “N-no! Not at all. Not that you don’t look good, but- uh- I mean- fuck!”

“I don’t understand you,” he took out the food and arranged them on the table. “My scars are more obvious like this.”

“I think your scars are sexy,” you blurted out.

He blinked.

“Uh, I mean!” you tried to backtrack, “Ugh, fuck it, let’s just eat!”

You took your own burger and went to sit on the bed.

“No food on the bed!” he barked.

“Okay, dad,” you rolled your eyes, settling with sitting on the floor.

To your surprise, Jason took all the food and put it on the floor in front of you, and then sat down opposite you.

Discreetly, you watched as he took the first bite.

He closed his eyes, chewing slowly, savouring the taste in his mouth. It was as though he was passionately making out with his burger, caressing the bun with love.

Smiling to yourself, you ate yours in silence, letting him appreciate the intimate moment he had with his food that he must have thought about while being forced to live on rats.

***

“What’s that?” Bruce asked curiously.

Ever since he switched off the camera in Jason’s room, he had been more agitated- or as agitated as he could get. He kept on asking you what you did, having you report back to him, demanding every little detail on his son’s wellbeing.

“My laptop,” you answered, “I was thinking we could do something different today. Maybe watch a movie. He’s missed out on so many.”

“A laptop,” Bruce hummed, “Do you think he would like one? To occupy his time? Or a television? Or a phone? Or- a tablet? Or-”

“Woah there, cowboy,” you chuckled. Bruce seemed desperate to provide Jason with anything he wanted. Maybe as a way to push the guilt away, maybe as a way to reconcile.

Or maybe he was just being a father who wanted to spoil his son.

Whatever the reason was, you thought it was extremely sweet.

“He’s only now just getting used to being in a clean environment,” you explained, “All of that may overstimulate him, and I don’t want him to revert back to how he was.”

“I see.”

“But I’ll ask, okay?” you said, heading to the room. “We’ll see how he handles a movie.”

You opened the door to see Jason sitting on his bed with his legs spread in front of him, reading a book.

“Hello,” you greeted.

“What’s that,” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“My laptop!” you told him excitedly, “I thought maybe we could watch a movie today.”

“Movie?” he frowned, crossing his legs to make space for you on the bed.

“Yeah,” you sat down in front of him, “I’ve got a whole terabyte of illegally downloaded movies and shows. We can choose one together and watch, if you’d like?”

He contemplated for a while, eyebrows drawn together while you opened your laptop. “Fine.”

“Yay!” you cheered, “Okay, so what do you like to watch? Action? Drama? Thriller? Comedy? Or… Romance?”

“Put on your favourite movie,” he stated.

“What? Nah, you can choose something you’d like to watch,” you declined, “I’m cool with anything.”

“I want to watch your favourite movie,” he deadpanned.

You purse your lips. “Okay, sure. Scoot over.”

He propped two pillows up against the headboard of his bed and moved to the side so you can squeeze in between him and the wall. At first, you were not used to being in close proximity with him, and you wanted to give him personal space.

But after a while, Jason himself had sat next to you closely, stood in front of you or behind you closely- so close that the skin of your arms would brush against each other, or in this case, the heat of his thigh against yours as you balanced the laptop on each of your thighs.

The next surprising thing that happened, though, was when he put his arm behind your shoulder so casually, that anyone would have guessed it was a thing he did on the regular.

You were taken aback by his advances, but appreciated that he felt comfortable with you. It was such an accomplishment considering everything that happened, so you leaned into him snuggly.

You clicked play.

And then, he came in close to you, brushing his lips against your ear and said in the lowest whisper that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“If this movie sucks, I’ll kill you.”

It wasn’t a threat, you knew it wasn’t.

But the heat on your neck from his breath when he whispered to you, the low tone of his voice-

You couldn’t help but clench your thighs together in arousal.

***

“I wonder if he’ll be okay,” you thought out loud.

“I’m so jealous that you’re the only one who gets to see him. When can I go?” Dick whined.

“Two weeks is a long time,” you ignored Dick, “Bruce, is the phone offer still available?”

“Of course,” Bruce said, cutting his steak as silently as he walked. “I already have one. It’s on my desk.”

“That’s great!” you scooped up mashed potatoes.

“Seriously, though,” Dick pressed, “It’s been like what, five months? I want to see him.”

You looked across the dining table to meet your older brother in the eye. It was rare that Dick came over and had dinner with everyone, but his visits had been increasing ever since Jason got back.

“We can’t risk overstimulation, Dick. The only reason why he probably accepted me so easily is because I wasn’t part of his old life. He hasn’t even mentioned anything about… you know. And he hasn’t brought you or anyone else up.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, “It’s just- he’s my brother.”

Those last three words spoke volumes. A simple fact that carried so many emotions. Sadness, relief, longing, regret.

Dick was really special. You got the younger sibling treatment from Dick as well, and you only knew him for a little over a year. Even then you had formed such a bond with Dick Grayson you knew you wouldn’t have with anyone else in the world.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine his relationship with Jason, and how painful it must be to find out his little brother is alive but not allowed to see him.

“He just needs more time and space,” you said, “But he’s getting better, Dick. Much better. Even making jokes and teasing me. You’ll know once he’s ready. And I don’t think it’ll take too much longer.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, haven’t you?” Dick narrowed his eyes at you. “Like, every single day.”

“Well, yeah, he’s probably bored,” you shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

“A little birdie told me that you gave him a sponge bath a few months ago,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

You looked at Bruce accusingly, in which he responded with a simple, “Alfred.”

“He wasn’t showering at the time, and he stank like hell,” you explained.

“Sure, use that as an excuse,” he grinned, “Have you seen him shirtless since then?”

“Why?” you asked a little too defensively, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Nothing,” Dick laughed, “I wanted to ask about his progress. Health wise.”

“Oh,” you calmed down, “Well, Alfred has him on a high protein diet now. He’s definitely filled up since then.”

“Filled up,” Dick winked.

“Grow up, Dick!” you snapped.

After dinner, you went to Bruce’s desk to pick up the smartphone and brought it downstairs to Jason’s room.

“Two visits in a day. A late one, too. What’s the occasion?” Jason mused when you came in.

“I have something for you,” you sat at the foot of his bed.

“Is it my birthday?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, “We got you a smartphone. It has internet access and my number. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. In fact, it’s switched off. I’m gonna leave it here on the shelf. And if you don’t want it, just ignore it.”

“Why all of a sudden?” he eyed you suspiciously from where he was sitting at the top of the bed.

“Well,” you started, “I’m going to be away for a couple of weeks. On a trip with my friends. Sort of a post-graduation celebration. And I thought that since I won’t be here to keep you company, you might like to… you know…”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Talk? Text? Call?” you winced at your own awkwardness. Why were you even nervous? “I mean. You’d be bored so at least you have internet. If you want, of course.”

“Are you implying that I’d miss you while you’re gone?” his lips turned into a smirk, “Or are you the one who will miss me?”

“Neither!” you huffed, “I just thought that you might want some other form of entertainment besides books.”

“I was locked away in a cell for two years without food, water, books, or the internet,” he scoffed.

“And look how great you turned out,” you bit back sarcastically, before realising what you had said. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“Jesus, calm the fuck down,” he complained, “It’s fine. You don’t have to be careful with me, I’m not a fucking baby.”

You knew that, but at the same time, you still couldn’t call him by his own name.

“Okay,” you nodded, “Well. I’m leaving in the morning. I’ll be back on the tenth.”

You glanced at the digital clock on Jason’s desk. It was one of the most important things in his room. It allowed him to keep track of the time and day- imperative to keeping one’s sanity in check.

“Tenth, twentieth, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” you reminded him, “You do know that we’ve unlocked the door a couple of weeks ago, right? You’re free to go anywhere you want.”

Everyone had deemed him more or less stable. He wasn’t going to hurt himself or anyone else unless provoked or triggered, so Bruce decided to leave his doors unlocked, but Jason has yet to step outside.

“Doesn’t make a difference,” he mumbled, lying back down to face the ceiling.

Deep down, you knew what he meant.

It didn’t make a difference if you left the door unlocked, or threw him out of the room. Because at the end of the day, Jason was still being imprisoned by himself.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader #jason todd reader insert #jason todd #red hood #robin #dc #dc comics #batman #batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth

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flashfuture · 4 years ago

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hi!! re: your tags on a post not too long ago—what do you mean by dick’s previous love interests not respecting him? i haven’t read a whole lot of his stuff and tend to avoid romance-heavy plot lines in general, so this is 100% a genuine question and not me trying to start anything i promise, it’s just that i’ve seen dickb4bs and dickk0ry shippers in the past claim it’s sexism when people dislike his partners?

Ah well DC are big brain and they think peak humor is the boomer meme of the nagging wife.

So basically Dick and Kori were an absolutely fucking amazing couple. But then there was the issue of Mirage where she pretended to be Kori and tricked Dick into sleeping with her. Which is r*pe. Dick was slut shamed and victim blamed for this. DC has an absolutely awful track record with male victims of sexual assault. Ollie was always victim blamed for happened to him. And Dick they didn’t even acknowledge that he was assaulted. As well they had Dick sleep with Babs before the wedding I think. And that is so ooc it’s not even funny.

And when Dick started dating Babs they slowly chipped away at his skills to prop Babs up. And I’ll say it again if you have to tear down another character to make one look good you haven’t proven any skill. Character A just got butchered for no reason and Character B stayed the same. So Babs started mocking Dick for a lot of things. And it carries over into modern stuff. Where she’s the big brain and her dumb himbo boyfriend. Dick Grayson is not a fucking himbo. He’s smart as hell and dangerous as hell.

So they write Dick wrong to make him the butt of the joke. No one is laughing with him, they’re laughing at him. You see it in the newest Nightwing comics where Babs is there to make sure the reader knows how silly Dick is.

The issue is with the writers being incapable of writing a het relationship well. Literally, the best ones I can think of is Dinah/Ollie (though Gail Simone and Judd Winick tried their best to fuck that one up) Big Barda/Scott Free, Clark/Iris, Barry/Iris, Wally/Linda (but DC keeps fucking my Flashes)

So yeah DickKori got a bad rap because the writers want to over-sexualize Kori so then it’s like she and Dick were only sexual and I just- they were gonna get fucking married. And I literally could care less about DickBabs except that it contributes to the character butchering of both Babs and Dick by the way. Because when Babs is mocking Dick she just looks like a bitch. They reduce Babs over and over again to Dick’s ex-girlfriend.

So uh yeah those are my thoughts. People do indeed like to throw around sexist the same way they like to call Gail Simone a feminist because she thinks men are bad. She’s also the ally who says read this book because it’s got a gay character and that is about as surface level as you can get🤷‍♀️ I mean sure call me a sexist cause I don’t think the woman nagging and mocking a man all the time is a very good relationship dynamic. Lol yeah when people say that a lot of the time they’re just angry you don’t like their faves. As long as you aren’t you know actually being sexist (which really is not that hard to tell) then it’s best to ignore them.

I’ve got some scalding takes on characters who are there just to be women for the sake of having a het love interest. They’ve certainly evolved Babs since then but every time she’s with a batboy she gets snapped right back into that box of 60s housewife. I’ll never exactly ship Babs with any of the Batboys because she was made to be Bruce’s love interest and keeps getting shifted around to fit with each and every other batboy.

It is usually best to avoid Dick romances as the writer just uses the women to cause him more man pain cause of course they do. DC is traditionally written by men and lots and lots of white people. These people are older who have older views of relationships based on what was on TV but it’s still lame.

For example, there is always the age-old Babs and Kori fight over Dick storyline that absolutely no one wants to read. Women being pit against women over a fucking man??? Seriously? And if I see one more writer claims the only woman Dick has ever loved was Babs I’ll scream. It’s the tiniest smoothest brain take I have ever seen.

Bea was lovely the cherry on top of the Ric mess. She was adorable and fun and she really cared about Dick as a person. I miss her. Which is I think the post you were talking about? Idk I can’t remember what I tag where lol.

I think to derail for a quick sec the reason so many people turn to same-sex relationships in fiction is that the relationship between two women and two men will almost always be more developed than whatever het thing is going on.

Dick is much much closer to Roy, Wally, Garth, and Joey than he ever was to Babs. Now DC is retconning that Dick and Babs were childhood friends. But they still imo have no chemistry outside of they both work with Batman and ones a girl ones a boy.

Kori and Dick had real chemistry they were trying to both find freedom and safety within one another. The writers didn’t constantly have to hammer home that they loved each other or have random thought bubbles to try and make some connection happen. They just did happen.

Anyone who knows me knows I am not the biggest Babs fan. However, I’ll still protest the unfair treatment of any character. I don’t have to like a character to not want them to be butchered by bad writing. Like confession time I don’t even like Jason that much but I talk about him all the time because I want him to have a good story. So to me DickBabs is directly connected the butchering of both characters and it just doesn’t work.

so yep rambles on top of rambles. I’m not character bashing here just to make it clear. And I am a little bit relationship bashing but more so writer bashing.

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bubblyani · 5 years ago

Text

Bail Out: 04

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi-Chapter Series

Chapter 04: Thank You

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 9000+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: This ended up longer than expected. But no regrets at all. I appreciate all the feedback I received so far from all of you. Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter LIST

The apartment remained still with silence, unchanging even with your own entrance. You certainly had many reasons to be thankful for that night. You were alive, you were safe. A taxi finally was kind enough to bring you back home. Yet, being grateful for that kindness was the last thing on your mind. Especially after what you secretly witnessed that night.

No wonder the skin over your left wrist was noticeably red, and stung with pain. Clearly the obvious response, when you have pinched yourself from disbelief countless times during the taxi ride. With the apartment all to yourself, you felt enough freedom to piece every puzzle together. You took in a deep breath.

How was it possible that Bruce Wayne, is Batman? And more importantly, how did you not even notice?

The thought kept running through your mind on a loop. Even when you slumped on the couch, even when you carelessly you kicked your shoes off. Where did they go flying? You simply did not care. The dress pants comforted your legs as you sat cross legged.You scoffed with disbelief.

The reasons for your defense were valid. You would gladly shout them from any rooftop. He was clever, he knew what he was doing. He was never fully revealed, and the understanding of light and shadow had assisted him in concealing himself amidst the darkness and the faint city lights that shone. Even paying attention to his voice, he had concealed himself in every possible way.

Should this not be a happy surprise for you? You thought. Bruce Wayne, the man you admired, the man you had secretly fallen for, was indeed The Dark Knight. The caped crusader of Gotham City, safeguarding it to the fullest of his capabilities.

But at that very moment, it came to your realization that the glory and the pride of it, was certainly not what you were focused about. That was definitely not the reason you felt your heart clench, breaking into two. Definitely not the reason you felt your nose grow sour, your eyes well up with tears. For that was just it.

How dare you not consider the darkness behind that confident smirk of his? How dare you not empathize with the man, constantly haunted by his past personal loss, victimized by the criminal underbelly of the city ? The man who seemingly and eventually was driven by his personal vengeance and pain to rid the city of all crime whichever way possible? All in the form of a vigilante? The man who still may be silently concealing his pain, burden and struggle all his life, whilst carrying such heavy responsibility on behalf of all others?

How could you not consider that side to the man you had fallen for? How could you be so insensitive?

You tasted the salty tears, whilst they trickled down like a waterfall. The guilt forced your face to contort with exaggeration as your heart gave out, and you broke into sobs. You sobbed loud, and with no shame.

A part of you was tempted to wonder why must you weep so much for him? Could this be real love? Even unrequited, could it still be so? Was that the reason for your heart to save such generous space inside, just for you to store in the purest form of all love, affection and concern, all for Bruce Wayne?

As your shoulders shook uncontrollably, as you felt the unavoidable stream of snot exit your nostrils, the difficulty of setting this man free from your heart was evident. Forgetting him would be impossible. Even more so now. For now, your love for him had increased in hundred folds. From now on, he would always be in the center of your affections somehow, for always. Even if he would never consider loving you back.

If he only knew how grateful you were to him every single time. If he knew of your sheer willingness to do anything in your power, just to him help him return somehow. Just to ease his pain one way or another.

The sudden vibration over your left thigh, caused you to shift your focus elsewhere. Sniffing, you pulled your phone out of your left pocket. You gasped.

But it was a gasp of happiness. It exited involuntarily from your lips the moment you laid eyes on the screen. The moment you read the message that caused you to chuckle, feel your heart warm even further, and cry out even louder with emotion.

"Hey! I'm HOME !”

Allison's voice boomed with the door opening. However her voice instantly quieted the moment she found you on the couch, bawling holding the phone. Overwhelmed with emotion, you did not seem to care of her discovery.

“Sweetie…” Allison murmured worriedly, closing the door slowly before taking a few steps, "Whats wrong?”

Looking at her, the tears kept flowing as you wondered. Was it your place to let her decipher the entirety of your tears? Or was it your responsibility to do was right? And reveal only that truly mattered? You chose the latter instantly.

“Lillian had the baby…” You said, mid-sob, “And it’s a girl…” you added, smiling as you bawled without limits. Never had you cried this way in simply ages. Allison covered her mouth with surprise. “Oh my god…” She began, however furrowing her eyebrows soon after, “Didn’t think it would make you this emotional but this is great…why you crying?” Her curiosity did not leave her. “I’M JUST HAPPY!…” Your sobs grew even louder. “Awww Sweetie!” Cooing with affection, Allison certainly felt maternal at that moment when she proceeded to comfort you. And you were not lying, you really were happy for Lillian. Exhilarated and relieved of her safe delivery. No wonder your tears suddenly had a diverse taste. No wonder your sobs grew so much stronger.

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Alfred Pennyworth stood strong and silent, permitting the container floor to lower down, and descend in to a large concrete chamber. The entire ceiling of said chamber hung low, illuminated with white fluorescent lights.

Walking past the Bat Pod parked in the middle, he found Bruce Wayne. He found him standing by the CCTV monitors and keyboards, with one hand pressing an ice pack over his right cheek, while the other held the black cowl mask, the one which seemed to be broken and had lost all its glory.

Suffice to say, there was indeed more to the eccentric billionaire than meets the eye. In the form of a secret identity, that must be protected at all cost, for the sake of this city: The Batman.

“Why are you doing this, Master Wayne?”

Alfred inquired, forcing Bruce to turn his head.

“Fixing my face?” Bruce answered back with another inquiry, his bare torso revealing fresh bruises, “Well, you know why, Alfred”

His stoic face unchanged, the older man took the ice pack from Bruce’s face.

“You know me well enough, to know that was not what I was asking…” he said, urging the young man to sit down, “Why are you so adamant on saving this one woman?” He kept inquiring, subtly keeping the ice pack over bruise on his cheek.

“She’s an innocent civilian…”

Taking the ice pack away, Alfred shot him a glance.

“Many innocent civilians get hurt all over the city, Sir” He stated, keeping the pack on the table, “However, you’ve been making sure she was of out of harm’s way, ever since you met her…” he said, grabbing a thin tube of medicine. “I wasn’t so successful, to be exact…” Bruce answered, grunting as Alfred dabbed the cooling gel over his cheek. “Nevertheless, you saved her, every single time” he said, “…and at a cost too…” Bruce did not reply, for he knew Alfred was right.

Ever since her presence entered his life with a ‘bruising’ reputation, Bruce Wayne had a feeling this woman had left the territory of safety, especially when she angered one of the most powerful men in Gotham City. Thus, ever since then, her safety was all that seemed important to him.

“Did Fox send you the tracker?” That inquiry rang in his memory so clearly. The inquiry he made to Alfred on the night of the Annual Charity Dinner. Fixing his bowtie, he accepted the small, black box from the butler’s hands. “Following someone, Sir?” Alfred questioned, putting his hands behind his as he stood smartly. Tilting his head, Bruce smiled: “More like, keeping a watchful eye…” he answered.

Bruce was careful, and inconspicuous. Little did anyone realize the sole reason for his attendance at the Dinner was for the safety of one woman. The tracker being in the shape of a pen, Bruce did not have any difficulty whatsoever to put it into her handbag. Certainly no difficulty, when he found her quite intoxicated at the VIP guest room in the Hotel.

And what a relief the tracker was placed. If not, the opportunity to rescue her from a group of muggers that night would have never been possible.

Although success was in his grasp, the guilt that soon followed took over him like a fever. Savior he can be, but never keen on playing stalker. In fact, the guilt overpowered sleep that night. Thankfully, other than guilt, he also had her wallet. An adequate excuse to visit her indeed. As luck would have it, she was always so cooperative involuntarily, providing him ample time to take the tracker out of her bag while she clumsily put her shoes back on. Surprisingly, her magnetic conversation and sense of humor tempted him to linger a little while longer, which provided him with some interesting information. And he would be lying if he did not enjoy it.

“Working Late, Sir?” Alfred’s curiosity was justified when he phoned him today. Especially when Bruce Wayne decided to stay back at work.

“Something like that…” Bruce answered, to which the butler chuckled from the other side of the line. “That will be a surprise, even for Mr. Fox”

His decision was all worthwhile, when he managed to rescue her once again from a much more dangerous form of attack early tonight.

“Nevertheless you saved her…every single time” Blinking the flashbacks away, Alfred’s current words echoed in his ears. Bruce sighed.

“Petty as it was...She stood up for me, Alfred” He replied hoarsely, getting up, “It’s not like I had many people standing up for me in my life…” he continued, as he stared at the several screens before him, one played the ‘The Bruiser’ viral clip on loop.

“Being Bruce Wayne, didn’t exactly open doors of trust or loyalty with many people around me” He said, “But she just…” pausing, he took his time before continuing, “…acted so recklessly, just for all that…just for me…”

Hands rested in his hips, where the elastic waistband of his pants hung, “And I feel like…I owe it to her…” his voice grew soft, “...especially when I have a feeling of who was responsible for all those attacks”

The security staff apprehended her on the video, while she hung her head low in embarrassment. The sight of it made him breath deep.

“I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to her...” Bruce said firmly. Alfred could do nothing but smile softly.

“Something tells me this is more than you just being a Good Samaritan, Sir…” He said. All the sudden, Bruce chuckled quietly, turning to him. “I’ll let you be the judge of that…” he replied, shaking his head.

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As the two empty bottles rested on the coffee table, you watched Allison come over to you, proudly holding on to two more beer bottles that she got from the fridge. Taking one from her hand, you smiled sheepishly.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” You slurred jokingly. Squinting, Allison threw you an appalled look in such dramatic fashion. “Me?” She asked, “NOOO!!” she replied as she sat on the other corner of the couch, “Sweetie, We’re celebrating, remember?” “Yes! We are…” nodding, you cried out loud, raising your bottle to the air, “To LILLIAN’S BABY!!” Allison’s bottle joined in unison, which followed with cheers and whoops. A huge sip from the chilled bottle brought you comfort. “Ahhh...she’s gonna be a cute, cute baby…” you breathed, staring lovingly at the wall, “…with chubby cheeks and all…” you added, pinching your own cheek. Suddenly, you heard Allison begin to snigger. “What?” You inquired, looking her way. Keeping her bottle on her stomach, Allison lazily permitted her legs to lie over the coffee table. “Just..” She began, “I’m gonna miss this place when I finally move out…” An emptiness hit you on the heart in a flash, forcing you to turn to her. “You’re gonna leave?” You breathed. Glancing at your concerned expression, Allison’s smile disappeared. “Sweetie…” she said, her eyes catching your own, “I'm not expecting you to let me stay here forever…” taking a gulp from her bottle, she continued, “And besides, I owe you so…much…money” Shaking your head, you waved your hand fiercely with dismissal. “Ah! Fuck it” You replied, sitting back to stare at the wall again. Allison’s expression grew cold. “Sweetie…” her voice lowered, “You should be living in a fucking penthouse by now” “Mid grade penthouse…” you corrected her, still looking away, “…the better ones are too expensive" you muttered softly to yourself. “Whatever…” Allison replied, her gaze still on you, “But instead…you’re stuck here in this crappy apartment...with me-” “How dare you?” You inquired in a dramatic British accent, finally looking back at her, “This is cozy-” “Will you let me fucking finish?” Holding your hand out in defense, you slowly nodded. “Sorry….” You muttered, to which Allison sighed. “I’m gonna pay you back…”she promised with resolution, “And you’re gonna get out of here…” a smile appeared on her face, “You deserve a good life. You’re too good to me, Sweetie…” she said, rubbing your arm with affection, “We never should have been at the bar that night.” Silent, you took another sip. Allison sighed once again, looking at the window on your side. “You never should have stood up for me” she added, her deep voice echoing in the room.

Recollection of that fateful day she mentioned was inevitable. That day was your birthday, two years ago. Newly promoted to Senior Manager, the idea of celebrating both your birthday and promotion together with Allison seemed perfect. Celebrations did not necessarily require a group of people, in your opinion. Your ideal night of celebrating was nothing fancy. Fueling oneself with intoxication at the bar would soon be followed by a jam session at the karaoke bar. And food was definitely in the plan. You loved your Korean Barbecue. But when a Loan Shark dropped by the bar in search of Allison, you had a feeling those epic plans had to take a rain check. Surrounded by thugs, he exuded fear. “Allison, baby…” His drawl made your skin curl, addressing your friend, “You’ve been keeping me waiting long enough…I need my…money” he growled in procession. Debt, you disliked that word. Unfortunately, Allison was knee deep in it, with interest as well. Her partying personality definitely did not encourage her to be responsible as you were in life, and this was proof. His threats of violence and possible death were akin to sharp shooting bullets. Unwilling to remember this night bathed in blood, your intoxicated self became Allison’s bulletproof vest. “Sir! Sir! SIR!...” standing bravely in front of your roommate, you slurred out loud, “Worry no more!” your assurance was dramatic, making his eyebrows furrow. “We got your money...” you claimed, to Allison’s shock, “All I ask you is…” you paused, in all seriousness, causing everyone in the bar to hold their breath in silence: “Do you take Checks?” As you wrote off the amount, you wrote off your chances of moving into a better apartment, and a better life. Yet, you were far from regretful.

“Well!” you said, shaking that memory away as you were intoxicated with chilled beer, “No one was gonna ruin my birthday with my Bestie!” Your words were filled with pride, and every word was said from the heart. “You said the exact same thing that day…” Allison said, making you look back at her. Emptying your bottle with one last swig, you moved the bottle from your hand to the table. “And I still mean it…” you assured. Allison’s eyes, they grew warm. Warm to the point they shone with tears. Slowly standing up, she began to walk over to you. “Ali, what’s with that look?” You inquired, as she sat right next to you, “Wait what are you-Ahahah!” With your giggles, it was certainly too late to answer, when her tight hug surprised you. “Awww Sweetie…” Allison cried, her tone muffled with her face pressed against your hair. “Ali…” you began, as your giggles paused, “I think I'm gonna hurl-” “What? Eww! ” Allison yelled, moving away as if she touched fire. Only when she saw you guffaw, did she realize there really was nothing to hurl. “I’m kidding! I��m kidding...come here…” You giggled, pulling her pouty self over for another hug, “Awww…..What would I do without you, Ali?” And right you were. Life was just so much richer, with your best friend beside you.

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Unknown Number

Those two words stared at you from the phone screen in your Recent Calls. Whilst walking down the lobby of Wayne Tower the next morning, you were relieved no hangover haunted you .Which left you ample time to let him haunt you instead. The elevators seemed to be surprisingly busy today, forcing you to stand in front of one. Still staring at the phone, you could not help but wonder. Would that number still work if you were to contact him somehow? This strange curiosity made you restless. For you longed to act one single urge: Thank Him. Selecting the ‘Message’ option, you mindlessly began to form a text:

Thank you for last night

Your eyebrows were raised. Maybe the wording should not end so ambiguously. In fact it seemed too perverted. You scoffed, never did you expect of considering sending ‘a text’ to Batman himself. The mere idea was simply ridiculous. But, did not hurt to try. Pressing the backspace button a few times, you stared at the only words that remained:

Thank you

Finally, you smiled. With your thumb twirling around the screen, you typed away to complete it:

Thank You again.

Taking a deep breath, your thumb moved over to send, only to be responded with the following message:

Cannot be Sent.

Shaking your head slowly, you sighed. Of course, it could not be sent. It was an unknown, untraceable number for a valid reason. Bruce Wayne was smart, thus you respecting him even more. It was a failed attempt, yet you commended yourself for taking a step of bravery. Ding! Seemed your focus had taken you further enough to ignore all that surrounded you. For the sound of the elevator tempted you to finally look up from your phone. A gasp left you, when the free elevator was in the midst of closing with just one woman inside it. “Wait!” You cried out, “Stop!” You said, running towards the door. The woman however, stood still with a cold stare whilst the doors fully closed before her. Leaving you behind. Embarrassed and annoyed, You huffed. “Rude” You muttered under your breath with a sigh. It was certainly one of those unfortunate days you would encounter a bad egg. Not that rude folk were rare in Gotham. It was certainly the opposite. But still, Wayne Tower had only a few. Just before you could wallow in it, the other elevator luckily opened up to your rescue a few seconds later. Heading to the 8th floor, you felt your luck had changed back. Life gifted you a second chance. But the moment you finally stepped out of the elevator, it was clear it was playing a prank of you. “Ma’am…Can I help you?” You called out confidently, addressing the woman who stood peeping through the main door with suspicion. The same, cold woman who deprived you of the elevator earlier. The moment she turned, you spotted the Visitor Name Tag on her, standing at the same height as you did. Her loose, brunette hair reached up to her shoulders, framing her rectangular shaped face. Her entire presence, it exuded confidence. And simultaneously, her aura exuded an impression you just could not stand. “Ah!” She said, nonchalantly. Her tone was simply too casual, given the fact she just was rude to you earlier, “You work in HR?” “Why else would I be here?” You replied, suddenly aware of the sass that included in your tone. Too late, it was out of your control. However, she smiled. “Then perfect…”, her plump lips revealing a perfect set of teeth in between, “I’m Clara Bennett…” as she extended her hand: “Your new HR Consultant” Taking her hand for a firm shake, you silently prayed for Lillian’s support to hover over you like a guardian angel.

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The moment Clara Bennett set foot in to Wayne Enterprises, Lillian Foster’s absence was noticed. Assigning a Consultant to oversee the process in the HR Department seemed quite sudden, and frankly very offensive. Especially since no form of corruption or disruption of operations had occurred in the recent past. You were clearly at fault here. It was evident that this could be the company making amends with Henderson Incorporated by making an example out of you. Such a shame it had to be for a you could not professionally take credit for. Being the first day without the presence of the Head, a Departmental Briefing was in order. But with Clara’s appearance, you were hesitant to carry forward.

“No please…” Clara insisted, politely, “Please proceed. I’ll be more than happy to listen in…” Her introduction was made, formalities met as everyone gathered around the Oval Table in the Conference Room. Though she flashed her smile, you could not help but feel a sense of threat by her. This was not the type of threat in relation to appearances or the usual nonsense. Granted, she was a beautiful Mixed, Hispanic with attractive features and a confident personality. But it was the coldness that was brought along with it that sent signals of warning to you. Yet, then again, this could possibly be your first impression whispering you in the ear and poisoning your mind.

“Right…” You began, “…moving on to other matters. First of all..." wearing a huge grin, you continued, "The news is true...Lillian did have her baby. And it's a girl..." The cheers and applause that followed could make anyone wonder if you just announced the score of a NFL match. Happiness was infused in your system. No matter what, it was a relief to observe everyone’s love and respect for Lillian. It certainly proved the strength and effectiveness of her leadership. Something you aspired for have yourself. "Yes, we should all be very happy that they are both safe and well..." you added, chuckling out loud as the applause continued, "But now, on to business..." The crowd quickly grew silent. Pride came over you to have that effect on them. "As I recall...there were some tasks that were pending from Lillian's side, which I hope everyone was patient with… " you eyed all those who sat, who collectively nodded, "But Good News, before she left, she had given her decisions after discussing with Management...” you declared, opening your notebook, “...and I will update them all point...by poin-"

A loud cough. An unpleasant one exited Clara’s lips in interruption, causing all heads to turn. You looked her way in a flash.

"Ms. Bennett...Are you alright?" You asked, concerned. Clara nodded, with her hand on her mouth. "Yes...carry on..." her answer may have been polite, yet her smile seemed restrained. Ignoring it, you looked back at your colleagues. "As I was saying..." You paused, "What? why the smiles..." You inquired, for all of them merely smiled at you with excitement. Inciting laughter as he raised his hand like schoolboy, Greg cleared his throat before he responded: "If I can speak freely...” he said,”...and If Clara doesn’t mind ...” he looked at her, who kept her tight smile preserved, “It's just strange for us to see you doing this Briefing instead of Lillian..." Chuckling back, you nodded in agreement. “I know..." You said, "Believe me, it's weird for me too..." You added, maintaining eye contact with possibly everyone you looked at, "But I hope we all can get through this time working harder than before..." With your years of experience, you were skilled in maneuvering your voice into the seriousness that was required for a pleasant persuasion, changing the aura in the room to a more understanding one. Many nodded in agreement. "Okay..." you said, proceeding to look at your notes "Regarding the Counseling Team Idea making Monthly rounds....” cheerfully, you clasped your hands together, “Good News! Mr. Fox loves the idea...It's a GO!" Your cheer and enthusiasm had translated into a few cheers amongst the group who seemingly had suggested, while the others were quite impressed. "Great Idea everyone..." Your smile expanded, giving thumbs up to the younger colleagues, "This is why we need more younger minds in this department-”

Another cough. A longer, irritating cough filled the room. With no surprise whatsoever, you turned to Clara. And this time, it felt quite personal. "Do you need a cough drop or something, Ms. Bennett? Cause I can personally get you one..." "No…No don’t mind me..." Clara shook her hand, "Please carry on with your...uh..." she paused, shooting a glance at the table, then yourself, "…briefing..." as her smiled died for a split second.

Though anger bubbled within your core, a smile was all that you could maintain. The show must go on. You resumed the Briefing, providing the updates necessary. You were hell bent on effectiveness and speed, making sure no man was left bored or uninterested. Thus, leading to a successful finish.

"Ms. Bennett...”

Clara turned, upon hearing your call. With the rest already vacated, the conference room was left with no one but the two of you, “May I speak to you in private?"

Looking around, She nodded. With the door open, your hands remained folded as you stood before her.

"The little cough stunt...", you began, smiling, "I know what that means...“ you said, although your smile was nowhere close to friendly, “...something is definitely not sitting right with you..." you raised your eyebrows, "Am I right?”

You were no fool. You would rather trim the hedge before the worst. Though Clara opened her mouth, no words escaped. Ultimately chuckling, she put her hands on her hips, looking right at you:

"Look...” she began, “I don’t want to be the bad guy on the very first day but...." "But?” you inquired, showing your palms, “Please, I would really appreciate your feedback..."

The tension was high, and so was your impatience. Clara simply shrugged. “I'm just….” pausing, she sighed, “...a little disappointed in your communicative skills as a leader..." You froze. "Oh...." You muttered monotonously, "I see..." Confused, you folded your arms again, lost in mid-thought as she began to leave. Only a few seconds later, it suddenly hit you.

"Wait a second..." You uttered, forcing her to stop, "In what way exactly?" You inquired. Suddenly her opinion had affected you more than one had realized. Clara looked at you as if you were a science project, difficult to comprehend.

"You're too...." She said, eyes squinting “...amiable..." her answer seemed resolute, "...and that shows weakness..."

The moment she finally left the room, you had never felt so insulted. In all your years working in Wayne Enterprises, no one in Management had criticized your skills in this manner, not even Lillian. What on earth did she just observe, for her to make that sort of assumption?

The heavy, hurried footsteps of Greg approaching the Conference Room shook your from these toxic thoughts.

"Boss..." He panted; You turned to him in shock as he continued:

"We got a problem!”

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Arguments and disagreements, a usual element in the average universal workplace. And mediating said disagreements was definitely a skill you were trained for from the beginning.

But to stop actual altercations? You would have to think twice on that.

Making your way down to the lobby with Greg by your side, a huge crowd was in your sight in the middle of the lobby. When security calls in to say an HR colleague was involved, no one would have blamed your impatience as you made your way through the crowd to the front. You gasped:

"Oh my god...Is that Caleb?" You cried to yourself.

Caleb Brown, one of your juniors, was never a troublesome kid. An innocent new recruit, he impressed you always with his patience. Yet for some unexpected reason, there he was, standing head to head with another staffer, hands tightly on each other’s collars.

"Gentleman...” Your voice was calm when you addressed them, “Come on...Whatever this is, let’s settle this like adults-HEY HEY!”

Calmness was difficult to maintain, for the atmosphere grew violent. Caleb met the floor in an instant when the other stronger young man pushed with him anger. Kneeling next to him, you held him by the shoulders.

"Caleb...” you breathed, “You're okay-HEY! Caleb NO!..." Your reflexes acted out in a flash, restraining him when he attempted to get back up in defense. Embarrassed, he looked at you, "Why not?” he hissed, “You fought back when Henderson talked shit about Wayne! " Your face tensed. Touché, Caleb! “That's nothing to do with this..." you answered curtly and quietly. “But why can’t we fight back when this jerk talks shit about us?" Caleb asked, louder than expected, amplifying the conversation. Caleb’s opponent, seemingly not from your department , laughed out loud.

“What did I tell you, everybody? Like Senior, like Junior, right?” He slurred out in the voice of an entertainer “Why am I not surprised about this Bruiser bitch?”

The curious buzz grew louder. Your cheeks heated up, uncomfortable to the fullest. The fact The Bruiser reputation kept following you like a shadow was more than you could take. Regardless, that man’s attitude was far from professional. “Alright… ENOUGH!” Your thundering voice sliced through the buzz, shushing the entire crowd. Aggressive may be, yet full of control.

“I don’t know what exactly happened between the two of you...” your voice grew calm with expertise , “...but this is not the professional way to do things…And you!” you exaggerated, pointing at the rude young man, “That was certainly not the way to address anyone here…let alone your superiors…” You continued, as pin drop silence ruled the lobby. Taking a deep breath, your gaze turned deadly, “This is very disappointing....Both of you…upstairs for Mediation…now!”

Pointing towards the elevator, you watched the two young men follow Greg upstairs. With the crowd dispersing, the fear in the atmosphere was evident more than ever. As much as it assisted you, it frustrated you as well. Could this actually mean the Bruiser reputation was taking a bigger toll on your career at Wayne Enterprises?

You sighed heavily, the moment you saw Clara within your sights, standing next to the Elevator, with possibly a judgmental look on her face.

So much for a professional first impression.

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“Ted!” You said, answering the phone, “How did it go?” With the mini altercation yesterday in needing of a resolution, you were desperate for assistance. Being the current leader of HR, it should have been your rightful place to take unbiased charge of the conflict resolution. However, with Caleb involved, your participation was simply a symbol of biased treatment. Thus, Ted Hawthorne from Legal was called in to undertake the Mediation. And from his tone, it was clear it went well.

“Well, thanks to this little fiasco…” Ted replied, “…we managed to do some good after all…” “Mind elaborating?” You inquired, sneakily watching Clara engage with the junior staff outside your office. “The other junior guy…” Ted continued, “Leonard Attwell…He was drunk at the time, hence the badmouthing and the altercation” “What on earth?…” you gasped, “Those are so many violations altogether…” “Exactly, so long story short…we caught a bad apple…” “Thanks so much for coming in, Ted” you replied, sighing with relief, “Now we can finally start the formal process on him…” “No problem, kid” Hanging up, you kept watching Clara making her rounds. With the incident she witnessed yesterday, it would not be surprising if she was on her personal mission dig dirt on you and the department itself. Shaking your head, you proceeded to skim through a few Survey Reports. The moment the phone rang once again, you were pleasantly surprised by the sight of the extension. “Hey! Jessica” you answered cheerfully, “How are you?”

 “Hey! uh…” Jessica’s response echoed in your ears,“It’s Mr. Fox. He wants to see you” Your eyes widened. “Shit…” you muttered inaudibly, as your eyes closed shut with desperation.

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Lucius Fox, was never the unpleasant person in your eyes. Ever since he was promoted to CEO a few years ago, he certainly displayed an unorthodox and humble quality to the most powerful position in the company. Yet, his wish to see you caused some concerns. Given your recent troubles at work.

“Thank You, Jessica…” Addressing his assistance at the door, he guided you into his office, “Please take a seat”. he said, as you both sat down. It was indeed an honor to be in his presence once again after a while. “You know…” he began, “ I realized I remember you from somewhere…” “Sir?” “Ah yes! ” he smiled, the velvet voice soothing your ears, “Weren’t you the Manager who recommended that Restaurant? When Dr. Kim visited…” “Oh…right…yes” You nodded, shyly.

Few years ago, when Fox was just the Head of Applied Sciences and Mr. Earle was CEO, you had dropped by one day to acquire certain clarifications on a project that required HR approval. Except when you did, you had stumbled on to Fox conversing with an Elite Group of Scientists from South Korea. Greeting them with the little Korean you knew, Fox was pleased when you even went out of your way to recommend your favorite Korean Restaurant at the Diamond District to them.

Fox laughed out loud, surely reminiscing that moment himself. “Fantastic Barbecue meat…” he exclaimed, “And the Soju* helped them improve their English.” He chuckled, “I have a feeling that night really strengthened ties between us” As much as you wanted laugh and share this merriment, concern took over your thinking space. “Mr. Fox-” you began meekly. “You must be wondering why I asked you up here...” Fox began, to which you nodded, “More or less, yes” Smiling, He took his glasses off. “I wish to thank you for diligently working on behalf of Lillian...” You smiled shyly. Being a kind gentleman, he contained a reliable sense in him. And still in charge of the Applied Sciences Department, a part you wondered if he was ever in relation to Bruce Wayne’s secret activities. “And er…” he went on, “…regarding the assault incident with Mr. Henderson-” Suddenly your heartbeat increased with panic. “I know” you nodded frantically, prepared to face the gallows “…it was highly inappropriate-” “Quite the contrary…” Fox replied, “Personally I believe that man needed to be taught a lesson…” You never intended to drop your jaw, yet it did. Fox smiled. “…but then again… that opinion will not cross these walls” he said, looking at you. Chuckles from both sides soon followed.

“Of course…” you agreed, pointing at yourself, “ HR…confidential…” imitating closing your mouth as a zip, “It’s safe with me” you added, nodding. Given his pleasant nature, you wished you had known him better before.

“Speaking of Confidential…” Fox began, bending to his side“…there is another reason I called you up here…” he said, opening a drawer, “A favor, more like…” Now highly curious, you leaned forward:

“Sir?”

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

“Okay...Breathe!” You muttered to yourself, as soon as the doors of the elevator opened. When Lucius Fox requests you to take a certain black box over to Bruce Wayne’s penthouse, you could not refuse. Personally, you did not want to either. Yet, it raised one burning question.

“Why me?” You remembered inquiring in an instant, genuinely curious. Clasping his hands together, Fox smiled. “I’ve heard of your talent...”He said, “…with confidentiality...even from Ms. Foster. And so I don’t think I can trust this with anyone else but you...”

Pressing your pink lips together, you returned to the present as you stepped into the Wayne Penthouse. Ever since the fire that broke out at Wayne Manor, all were aware that Bruce Wayne stayed at his penthouse.

The click of your heels were louder than usual. And it was quite strange. “Mr.Wayne? Hello?” You cried out, looking around “ Anyone here?”

To your disappointment, no one seemed to occupy the place. Yet that certainly did not forbid you from your breath being taken away, for it was Bruce Wayne’s home. The penthouse was indeed gorgeous. And gigantic, of course, the he dream home you aspired to have. Maybe a tad bit fancier but nevertheless, you were awestruck. Putting your handbag and the other bag on the marble kitchen counter, your feet guided you around with your hands behind your back.

Fascinated by the loud clicks your heels emitted, you were suddenly urged to vocalize a number of distinct sounds.You snapped your fingers, eagerly listening to the effects that bounced back. Impressed by the sound effects, you felt at ease. You were entranced to the point to of imagining yourself to be the owner of this wonderful residence. In your mind, you were the hostess, surrounding yourself with guests of all classes and colors in your evening party. Smiling at your imaginary guests, you raised your imaginary champagne glass:

“Good Evening Everyone…Thank you so m-” “Ahem!”

You quickly spun to find an elderly gentleman standing behind you. Dressed smartly, he seemed quite familiar. Embarrassed, you chuckled nervously: “Sorry just that…” you muttered, “The acoustics here are just…bonkers” That was your defense, and it was very weak. Your inner self cringed hard.

However, the older gentleman smiled. “Couldn’t agree more, Miss…” he replied, “Bonkers it is…” Chuckling, you stood straight. “You must be Mr. Pennyworth…” You said, extending your hand out to him. Holding it, he shook it firmly, “Please call me Alfred…Miss-” You offered him your name. “I was asked...” you began, walking over to the counter, “...by Mr. Fox to deliver this to Mr. Wayne.” You said, pulling out the black box from your bag, “... But since he’s not here, I guess I could entrust this to you” “I will make sure Mr. Wayne gets it” Alfred said, taking it from you. Though relief washed over you, it did not feel like the time to leave. “To be quite honest...” you paused, folding your arms “I don’t know why Mr. Fox even entrusted me with this in the first place…” You said with honesty. With the same small smile on his face, Alfred put the box inside his jacket. “Perhaps you are highly gifted with the power of Trust…” He pointed out. Chuckling, you tapped your foot. “No wonder I do this job…” “Would you like some tea?” Your eyes widened with surprise as Alfred suddenly asked, “Would appreciate the company” Moved by his amiability, you smiled brightly, “Sure, why not”

Sitting by the marble counter, you willingly offered to serve him the tea in return, pouring it and fixing up with milk. Given the look on his face, it was safe to say Alfred Pennyworth enjoyed being treated. The conversation that took place in between consisted of your work history at Wayne enterprises, and his own history with the Wayne family. You were more than fascinated.

“...and I’ve been looking after Master Wayne ever since” Alfred said. Stirring the tea with a small spoon, you beamed. “Wow! Mr.Wayne is so lucky…” you began, “..to have someone like you by his side all this time. I’m glad” you added, sipping your tea. With your recent, secret discovery about Bruce, You meant it in every way. Alfred chuckled. “I’m finding it quite difficult to believe you’re the one called ‘the Bruiser’ in the news” “Ah!” Setting the tea down on the counter, your eyes averted his gaze. “You saw…” “I’m afraid I did” Taking another huge sip for courage, you looked over at Alfred. “Now I that I have your attention Alfred, I just gotta ask” you said, keeping your hands over your lap gracefully, “ Did my...little stunt upset Mr.Wayne?” You inquired, “ I really hope I didn’t give him a bad impression” You realized how concerned you were. His expressions were subtle, Alfred’s. Thus, his response was difficult to decipher. Setting his own cup and saucer on the tray, he turned his gaze to you.

“I know it is not my place to say, but I certainly don’t think you did” He answered. For some reason, the fact that the closest person to Bruce Wayne thought this way, brought a sense of assurance to yourself. You smiled fully.

“You’re too polite, Alfred” You murmured gently. Tilting his head, Alfred was curious. “And what makes you say that?” “Cause …” you paused, eventually smirking “...you’re British” A weak line, yet both of you could not stop chuckling.

“Would you like a biscuit, Miss?" 

“Why yes, thank you…”

Biting into a soft buttery cookie, happiness coursed through you like the air into your lungs. It certainly felt a privilege to feel comfort in Bruce Wayne’s home. In Batman’s home? No! In Bruce Wayne’s home. You saw Alfred look down.

“Going to a birthday party?” He asked, pointing at the wrapped box that hid inside a shimmery paper bag. Giggling, you looked at him.

“Funny enough, it’s something close…”

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

Unpopular opinion it way be but, you had nothing against Hospitals. Nothing bad nor good, you were simply neutral to them. Even the smell never bothered you. Once you acquired the necessary information from a friendly administrator, you walked through the hallway over to the area of the hospital rooms. Excited you were beyond all measure.

However, the excitement was suddenly cut off when your phone rang. It was a number you had not saved.

“Hello?” You answered with confidence,“Yes, this is she...who is this?”

“Uh…this is Blake....” a male voice answered back, “Officer John Blake...”

The speed of your walk began to decrease. You remembered this voice. In fact you instantly remembered his face. The face of the officer who had to apprehend you that fateful Friday night.

“Oh wow...Officer...” you began, thoughts suddenly turning blank “Umm...” Truthfully, you were speechless. Suddenly, multi tasking seemed so difficult as you were trying to scan every patients room you passed by.

“Ma’am...are you okay?” Blake inquired through the line. Stopping on your tracks, you sighed.

“I don’t know...am I?” Your own responsive inquiry seemed dramatic. “I’m sorry Officer...” You sighed, “I normally don’t have the cops calling on me like this...” Concerned, you continued, “I feel like Gotham PD is now under the assumption that I’m up to no good all the time ...” you said as you continued to walk in long strides.

“Oh trust me...” he chuckled but seriously at the same time, “We know you are not...” “Pardon?” Now your curiousity grew even more. Clearing his throat, Blake seemingly decided to avoid going further. “Would it be possible to schedule a meeting tomorrow?” he asked, “It’s urgent.” Finally stopping in front of one particular room, you felt your concentration shift somewhere else. “Sure, Officer…” you breathed, “ Come by tomorrow whenever...” “Thanks...” Hanging up, you smiled brightly at what you saw in the hospital room. You smiled at the beautiful woman sitting on the bed, cradling a baby in her arms. Feeling your attention on her, she caught your gaze. Holding the baby close to her, she smiled: “Look, baby....” she whispered, “Guess which Aunty is here to see you?”

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

If chance had permitted, You would have gone to see Lillian the very next night after giving birth. But with her own family members crowding her room, she insisted you visit her the day after, giving ample peace and quiet for the both of you to freely converse. And also, for you to fawn over her baby girl.

“Awww honey…you shouldn’t have…”

Lillian said, opening your box to pull out a pair of comfy pajamas, while you were busy holding the precious infant in your arms. You adored the way her big eyes looked into yours. As you held her, you wished for all your love and energy to flow into this little human, giving her enough strength and confidence to start a life as any amazing woman should, comprised of self worth and self love.

“As long as you like it, Lillian…” you said, looking at your Boss. Even without makeup, she still looked so beautiful. “She looks like you, you know” you pointed out, giving the baby to her. Looking at the little one, Lillian tilted her head in doubt. “Mom says she’s got Mark’s nose though…” “Huh!…” you muttered, looking up in mid-thought, “…maybe…” “Eh!” Lillian replied, as you chuckled together. Your smile did not seem to fade, sitting on the chair next to the bed. Finally, Lillian looked at you in all seriousness. “So…how’s the Consultant?” Sighing heavily, you took your shoes off. “Difficult…” you said, “It’s like Life just decided to put someone right in my face, just to question my every move…” you used your hands in exaggeration, “and…Get this! She says I’m too amiable for a leader…” you added, making Lillian furrow her eyebrows, “Apparently it…” you took a breath to raise your voice, “‘shows weakness’ ” imitating Clara with air quotes. Lillian laughed out loud. She was one of the very few people who laughed at your jokes and adored your expressions. Come to think of it, her display of appreciation was quite similar to Bruce Wayne’s. Oh no! The mere image of his amused expression warmed your heart once again. This man, seriously. You breathed deeply. The baby cried, moving her arms about. Cradling her effortlessly, Lillian looked at you with a smile. “Well…” she began, “ If your job is to eat a frog, it’s best to do it first thing in the morning” Pausing, she anticipated your own response. Suppressing a smile, you leaned forward as you continued it for her: “And if it’s your job to eat two frogs,” you quoted, coming to realization, “ it’s best to eat the biggest one first…” you said nodding, “Mark Twain…” you stated. Lillian chuckled. “Atta girl…” she said, clapping her thigh with one hand. You shook her head, smiling. Lillian would always throw all these trivia at you throughout the years, you finally ended up catching them. A heavy feeling silently entered your heart, forcing you to sigh deeply. “Ever since that incident with Henderson…” you said, rubbing your hands together, “I feel like my life is going through some changes…” you clasped them together, “I can literally feel it…It’s insane…” you added, crossing your legs. Lillian merely shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows?” she said, “Maybe you are going through something…” she continued, “Something important…” That just caused you more pressure. What exactly was important? Was almost getting killed twice have something to do with it? Which led you think, why were you even targeted that way? But you did not want to go down that rabbit hole of curiousity. Not now. “Excuse me, Ma’am?” A middle aged man knocked on the open door, capturing both of your attention, “I got a special delivery for a Ms. Foster….” Dressed in a gray jumpsuit, he read out from his clipboard: “…. from Mr. Bruce Wayne” Your eyes widened. Lillian merely scoffed in disbelief. “What could he possibly brin-Oh my God!” She exclaimed, the moment he brought in a huge box on a handcart. With a dropped jaw, you stood up in a flash. “A Stanley’s Deluxe Baby Crib.” You breathed, clutching your chest, “That is one expensive crib” “Please, let us know when you head home, Ma’am. Mr.Wayne has already paid the Delivery and Installation Fees for the Crib” the man said politely, as you took the clipboard to sign behalf of Lillian. Getting up from the bed, she held the baby as she looked at the box with shock. Once you watched the man leave, you looked over to catch Lillian’s happy expression. “Never knew Mr.Wayne would be this generous…” you said, to which Lillian laughed joyfully. “Well, if this is how he’s gonna thank me for working 20 long years here, then I’ll take it…Ooooh look at this, baby! This gonna be your bed…Thanks to Uncle Wayne!!” she was gleeful, running her hand over the box. Chuckling, you felt nothing but peace at that very moment. Lillian deserved this. And you were relieved Bruce Wayne felt the same.

Leaving her to rest, you walked out of the room, when the phone vibrated. Taking a good look, you involuntarily found yourself sink down to one of the waiting chairs in order to process what you just received. A text message.

Did Ms. Foster like the gift? This is Bruce Wayne, by the way.

Smiling so brightly at the screen, you were in complete disbelief of what you read. Never did you imagine Bruce Wayne to text. But also, with all sorts of online Messenger applications that now existed for phones, you never expected a classic phone text in this day and age either. With both your thumbs ready, you formed a response.

Pleasure to make your acquaintance on text :). And yes, she loved it. But how did you know?

Pressing send, you got up, pleased to even receive a text of the sorts as you resumed to walk. Except the phone vibrated once again with his response.

Alfred.

You beamed. His answer made perfect sense for you did disclose to Alfred of your plans. While walking, you replied soon after:

That’s kind of him.

You wrote. Except before sending, you were tempted to write further:

But, wait! How did you get my number?

Now standing in front of the hospital elevator, it did not take long for the phone to vibrate once again.

Alfred.

Liar, you thought, chuckling. But his effort to be inconspicuous was what you appreciated highly. His own humor as well. The elevator opened and even closed after a minute. Yet you did not leave. For you just kept staring at your phone. There he was, Bruce Wayne, the man behind the mask of Batman, forming something as simple as a text connection with you. When you longed to connected with the Dark Knight, this gets handed out to you in a silver platter. The only difference being, him not really knowing what you actually knew. However, a part of you wondered if this was the opportunity you should grasp before it could slip out of your fingers forever. Taking a deep breath, your thumbs got to work:

Thank you again Mr. Wayne

With confidence, You pressed send. Along with that message, you sent out your full gratitude not only for the man who bailed you out, but also for the man who saved your life twice. And when the phone vibrated once again, it was certainly the icing on top to a surprisingly lovely day.

You’re welcome.

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

The moonlight filtered over the huge, open balcony in the exquisite mansion without any discrimination. The waves of the swimming pool below reflected on the older man who stood by the edge of the balcony, sipping a glass of whiskey in his silk night robe. Even in his lonesome, he could not find a shred of happiness to fill his face. How could he, when he always fueled himself with hate? Born into privilege like any one in a rich family, Erik Henderson was the type to be spoiled rotten, and grow cruel in the process. Growing old in that privilege, he certainly perfected getting away with anything. He had the wife, the son yet he was never fulfilled. For all he wanted was power. That also included power in the corporate world. For example, dominating his rival: Wayne Enterprises.

Though his nose was healed, the embarrassment he faced that fateful Friday night by the hands of a mere nobody, still lingered in his mind much more deeper than a scar. Inhaling through his teeth aggressively, he stared at the sky, delving into his hate in silence.

“You called?”

Startled, Henderson spun around to face a dark figure hidden in the shadows. With it’s robotic and undecipherable voice, it finally forced Henderson to calm himself down upon recognizing the figure.

“Jesus!” he spat. “Could you stop doing that, Alpha?” “Occupational hazard, I’m afraid…” the voice replied, nodding in apology. Gulping down the drink, Henderson slammed it on the drink trolley. “Two times…” he said, showing two stubby fingers, “Two fucking times…and still you couldn’t kill her?”he snarled angrily, “WHAT DID I PAY YOU FOR?” “Correction…” Alpha replied, politeness balanced, “You only paid a fragment of what was promised, Mr. Henderson” Huffing in anger, the old man rubbed his temples. “At first you said a simple mugging job would do the trick…” he said, “And when that didn’t work out, I at least thought the sniper and your assassin would finish the GODDAMN JOB…” He scoffed in disgust, “But all of them were no match for her. Not with that Batman in the way…” with his hands on hips, he turned around, “I forgot that bastard was around…” he muttered to himself.

“Perhaps, I can step in instead…” Alpha’s reply made him turn back. The moonlight merely highlighted the outlines of the figure dressed in dark camouflage attire. The way it had disguised itself, deciphering its identity was a dead end.

“Given my observation…” it began, this is becoming much more interesting than one expected…” folding its hands, it continued, “Only with your generous payment, of course…”

Grunting in acknowledgment, Henderson pointed at Alpha.

“As long as you can get rid of her…” he demanded, “No HR bitch from Wayne Enterprises is going to insult Erik Henderson…and keep on living!”

——————————————————

Chapter 5 HERE

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officialthiamlibrary · 4 years ago

Note

Got any canon fics set post 6B?

Here you go! A mix of older fics and some within the last month, I hope you’ll enjoy them!

Ocean Front Property and Yoda Wisdom by Diary (Teen | Complete | 1.3K) Tags: Frenemies, angst and feels Summary: Post-canon. Theo has issues, Stiles cares about Liam, and these facts interconnect. Complete. A Peek Inside: “I still don’t like or trust you. Okay, I never will. But you’ve been good for him. And I gotta admit, seeing you in love is an interesting thing.”

Hold Me. I’ve Lost My Anchor. by SterekShipper (General | Complete | 5K) Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, there is a second fic that follows this one Summary: Once again Liam and Theo had been in a fight. There was nothing unusual about that. It happened all the time. It was a natural part of their relationship. This fight however, had a different ending. A Peek Inside: It was just a fight. There was never a reason. Not really. Their relationship consisted of bickering and playful jibes. A bond had formed the night of the hospital. The night Theo had faced the Ghost Riders head on, fully intending to sacrifice himself. All to save him.

Stones by cherrysprite (General | Complete | 2.6K) Tags: First kiss, Theo introspection Summary: Theo begins to find his place as a normal nineteen year old with an accidental rock collection. A Peek Inside: One day, he sees a man sitting outside that said cafe, playing his guitar softly while people walk past without a second thought. It’s one of the more jarring parts of Theo’s detachment, he realizes. If he were normal, he would be able to grasp how people managed to pick up on hobbies and skills. It was like Mason and his love of reading, Corey and his talent with writing, and Liam spending his weekends playing lacrosse or working out. He just always finds himself perplexed at how they’d each figured out that what they were doing was good to them.

in the hospital after the war by snaeken (General | Complete | 1.5K) Tags: Summary: "I can wipe the blood off my own face, Liam," he snarks, mainly because he doesn't know what else to do; because it's comfortable, familiar, as far as the two of them are concerned. He doesn't pull away though. "I know. But I want to." Liam looks up at him, ocean blue eyes boring into his own. Theo's breath would probably catch, if he was breathing at all. "Let me." A Peek Inside: The hospital is, well. A bit like the aftermath of a warzone. Doctors and nurses and deputies everywhere, armed with handcuffs and body bags, making arrests and treating the wounded; Theo's own wolfsbane-laced bullet wound in his shoulder was treated by Deaton, while Liam regrouped with his pack and had his own wounds treated by Argent.

it’s you, sweet baby by axebastard (Teen | Complete | 1.9K) Tags: Pining, getting together Summary: In which Theo eats a s'more for the first time and Liam isn't quite as subtle as he'd like to be. A Peek Inside: Theo blinked, one corner of his mouth twitching. So Liam was inviting him somewhere. On purpose. He didn't know whether to feel honored or suspicious.

To Take One’s Pain by Endraking (Teen | Complete | 2.5K) Tags: Minor character death, angst, sick children Summary: Liam wanders the Hospital as he does a sweep. Memories come back to him about Theo since the chimera hadn't been seen since Gabe died and Monroe fled. While walking the halls, Liam learns something that will change his perspective about Theo. A Peek Inside: Liam walked the halls of Beacon Memorial Hospital. It wasn't that long ago that it was a battleground and not a place for the sick and injured to heal. Memories of those times, memories of hunters killing supernaturals, memories of the Riders, memories of the chimera and the Dread Doctors pull him to wander the halls. He's not a patient though he would garner a little less attention if he put on one of the hospital gowns. The lights were dimmed, something the hospital did either to save money or remind some of the more active patients that it was indeed nighttime. He moved down one hall to the next, walking up the stairs and repeating the process until he makes it to the roof. Then he hopped into the elevator and repeated. He was making sweeps of the hospital, but it wasn't from any present issue but his worry over his stepfather. Doing sweeps in the preserve was one thing but it was almost too easy for the pack to forget that things attack the hospital regularly and Melissa and Dr. Geyer were right in the line of fire. That brought him to the halls, but his mind was a million miles away as he wandered to the morgue

i know all sorts of things i don't believe by eneiryu (Explicit | Complete | 80K) Tags: Post finale, Theo Raeken centric, getting together, pack dynamics Summary: So, anyway. That’s how Theo becomes pack-mom to Scott’s merry band of supernatural misfits. A Peek Inside: Scott gets this narrow-eyed look like he knows what Theo’s thinking, but humors him regardless, “I was hoping you’d agree to stay here, help protect the town.” (...) “Okay,” Theo blurts out, cutting him off before he can speak, suddenly irrationally afraid that Scott‘s going to take it back, say nevermind, forget it, “Just until you find Monroe, right?” Scott nods, still looking perturbed but thankfully silent, “Okay. I’ll stay until then.”

you want me to hold your hand and kiss it better? by xxDreamFilledEyesxx (Mature | Complete | 3.9K) Tags: angst and feels Summary: Set after the Teen Wolf series finale: After taking Gabe's pain away, Theo thought Liam might be glad to see that he cares, so why has he been acting so strange? A Peek Inside: A few feet away stood Melissa, her face covered in pity for the life the boy on the floor had lost in a war that wasn’t his to fight. Theo's heart skipped a beat as his gaze turned to the person standing next to her. Liam.

Sun Is Up, I’m A Mess by IThinkWeHaveAnEmergency (General | Complete | 5.1K) Tags: College, mutual pining Summary: Liam transfers to San Francisco State and on his first day, runs into a face he hasn't seen in a long time. A Peek Inside: Liam steps closer to the man he hasn't seen in almost two years, his campus security guard uniform clear.

A Chimera’s First Heart by Auddieliz09 (Mature | Complete | 22K) Tags: Mild smut, first kiss Summary: Theo wouldn’t go so far as to say that everything is perfect in the months after the War, but, for him, it’s just about as perfect as his life can get. However, when someone from his past shows up on Scott's doorstep, Theo's life takes a new turn. But will it be for better or worse? A Peek Inside: When they left the hospital that night, Liam had looked at him in a way he never had before. Like he was seeing Theo for the first time without his past hanging over him. He was seeing Theo for the man he was trying to become. A man worthy of being his friend, maybe more. Theo became an official ally to the pack and began to hang out with Liam and his friends.

five punch knock out by I_write_fanfiction_sometimes (Teen | Complete | 2.4K) Tags: 5+1 Summary: Five times Liam asked what he was doing, and one time the answer was 'being happy' A Peek Inside: Theo squeezes his eyes shut and barely holds back a groan. Mint foam drips into the sink from the handle of his toothbrush and burns around the edge of his mouth. Of course it had to be Liam. Fucking Mason wouldn’t ask questions, he’d just walk right back out. Somehow though, Liam has decided he wasn’t scary.

Change of Plans by never_love_a_wild_thing (Teen | Complete | 69K) Tags: Fake relationship, light angst Summary: When Hayden breaks up with Liam minutes before his very public proposal was planned, Theo steps up to save him the embarrassment of being rejected in front of the pack. In order not to disappoint their Alpha, Theo and Liam decide to carry on faking their relationship until they can think of a good way to end it and keep everybody happy. In which Theo is crushing hard and neither of them plan things out well enough (or at all, really). A Peek Inside: Theo opened his mouth and then shut it quickly. He had argued with Liam over Hayden too many times to think that it was worth it anymore. “I just think that you should maybe figure out how she feels about it before you go and ask her to marry you in front of your entire pack,” he said.

Only you can look at me the way you do by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee (Explicit | Complete | 57K) Tags: Smut Summary: But Liam knows that tonight's gonna be one of the nights where he caves in and he doesn't care. A Peek Inside: They hadn't turned up anything so why not blow off some steam and then check back later? Scott'll never know the difference.

The Truth Will Set You Free by tabbytabbytabby (Teen | Complete | 1.6K) Tags: Light angst, misunderstandings Summary: Theo realizes he has feelings for Liam, but before he can tell him he sees Liam with a girl from his class and assumes they're dating, and that Liam could never be interested in him. He makes a decision to help himself find some peace, but first, he needs to tell Liam how he feels. Liam's response surprises him. A Peek Inside: A normal morning in mid-March, standing in the Geyer’s kitchen, watching as Liam tried and mostly failed at making pancakes. He’d stood there with pancake batter all over himself, looking sleep-rumpled and adorable and the thought just struck Theo so suddenly.

The Curse of Batman and Robin by songbvrd (No Rating | Complete | 10K) Tags: Bodyswap Summary: Liam and Theo are friends. Sort of. They live together and spend a lot of time together, but they also fight. Constantly. When a body swapping curse leaves them having to pretend to be each other, shenanigans ensue. A Peek Inside: It never lasted, because as annoyed as he was by Theo, he did also like him. He would never tell him that, god forbid the already painfully egotistical chimera get another boost on his account.

The Big Bad Chimera by OTP_fandom_shipper (Teen | Complete | 643) Tags: Fluff Summary: Theo falls asleep on Liam's shoulder, so he takes a picture. Needless to say, Theo is not very happy and wants it deleted. Que the "wrestling" session in the living room. A Peek Inside: Theo arrived back at Liam’s around 5:00. The beta’s family had been gracious enough to let Theo stay with them after they found out that he had been living in his truck. He did get a job not too long ago since he had graduated high school and wanted to make his own money. He was saving to get a place of his own. Theo didn’t want to stay too long with the Geyers.

Touch my neck and I’ll touch yours by voices_in_my_head (Mature | Complete | 7.3K) Tags: Pornstar Theo Summary: ""And you, Theo, what did you do during the week?" Scott asks, clearly trying to bring him into the conversation, which no one has done aside from Liam (they talked about the new The Good Place episode, because surprise surprise, Theo got addicted to Netflix once he found out what it was) and Corey (who actually seems to enjoy Theo's presence and Liam knows they've hanged out just the two of them. Which he obviously is not jealous about, pff, why would he be? Corey has a boyfriend. ... And Liam isn't interested in Theo that way, obviously.) Theo smirks before answering, to which Liam's heart does a slight jump, hoping that no one noticed or, if they did, will be kind enough to pretend otherwise. "I did a porno."" A Peek Inside: Liam isn't entirely sure how he feels about it. Theo seems to really have turned a new leaf, and Liam is pretty sure he would have died in the hospital if he hadn't been there, but he also can't forget the way he played them all, the way Liam almost killed Scott because of him.

#fic recs #fanfiction #canon future #post season 6b #mod: mary #mod: tara #otlansweredask

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