#in other words I think Gotham war should be a wake up call for Jason and he should start doing everything in his power to fuck with Bruce

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Yeah, people like to think that (adult) Jason’s snarky, cutting, and unapologetic post crisis characterization and the (mostly) “watered down”, docile personality he’s had from N52/rebirth onwards are irreconcilable, and that the shift was just an editorial decision with the intent of marketing him as a “likeable” hero.

While that last part might be true, have they considered that textually it makes perfect sense that being consistently in contact with an abuser just does that to a person. Wears them down until they feel like nothing but a husk, without any discernible direction or opinions of their own. If it isn’t completely burnt out yet, they (consciously or unconsciously) suppress that part of themselves that thinks independently either for self-preservation or to keep the peace. Considering anyone, even “mentally strong” people could fall victim to mental abuse, it’s actually pretty realistic imo.

[mndvx]

please enlighten me as to how much this episode sucked 🤭 bc from what i'm reading, it was even worse than last week

Turns out we finally found which episode of Titans is the worst!! (So far, at least.)

I have a feeling that the finale will be the most absolute insane pile of dog shit this show has ever had. And it's had a lot lately!! They really baited us into thinking there was a slight chance of it being good with the first four episode. I'm so mad.

Last week was a filler episode. And it was bad. But they really outdid themselves with this one, it's... yeah it's the worst episode of Titans, so far.

The GCPD is incompetent, that we already knew. So it's not really surprising when Random Nameless Cop #4 ends up being easily bought by Jason/Crane after we saw him have a little feely chat with Barbs about someone he knew dying from the fear induced riots or whatever

but before that, Crane sends all of gotham a little fanvid he made in his garage using footage from episode 1, not in any way shot differently, it's just episode 1 intro fight against Gizmo Guys copy pasted with a few flashing random buzz words, like "thief" "con-man" or whatever and him narrating about how the titans are bad guys and the reason why gotham's water is poisoned and says he put a bounty of 500K on the titans dead or alive. We get a little montage of every main character seeing the vid. With Conner and Komand'r spooning together in the living room d'aww and Gar reading up on Lazarus Pits then having a little DCney Prince moment with the bats in the cave before Kory comes in to tell him about the video.

So with that, what does Dick do? First he tells Barbara he's gonna fix this(tm) then he goes back to the batcave (off screen) and i guess tells the rest of the team (off screen) to get into a parking lot or something?? where they get surrounded by dozens of people and like... Fight four of them before Dick tells them to come back??? Also, at some point during this Dick is like "Me staying here, it's a mistake I should be with you guys" and Kory tells him "No! You got a bounty on your head, it's safer" so why is Gar not staying in the cave with him, he's not invincible either!!

Meanwhile, Donna is taking a taxi to get back to Gotham, because I guess she can't teleport anymore, that must've been some of that Purgatory juice that sent her from Themyscira to that other Wayne Manor to save Bruce (who we hear NOTHING about. I mean good, we're not here for him, but she literally just stopped him from kiling himself in another country and now she's on the way to Gotham all alone... That's weird

Same thing about Tim, we saw him come back from the dead last week, but he's nonexistent in this episode. No one, not a single person all titans included, even speaks about him or even vaguely mentions him being shot or asks if he's okay or anything.

and then that random Lydia amazon shows up saying she's been following Donna "for 10 minutes" which is really weird, because Donna definitely was moving for longer than ten minutes, i mean she was IN ANOTHER COUNTRY, so how the fuck did you show up specifically on that road to Gotham just ten minutes ago, CAN YOU TELEPORT LYDIA??? I guess she can because then she slams Donna down and she wakes up in some random woods she calls "The Training Grounds" like it means something. blablabla this is the B Plot i guess? It's dumb, it's pointless. It's Lydia fighting Donna for way too long, some random shit about Lydia's daughter Angela dying and how she's sad or whatever who cares, then telling Donna she has to rise, she was born to lead people etc etc (can you tell how hard they're trying to make a spin off happen?) before Donna can finally go back to going to Gotham (no she doesn't get reunited with the team.)

Dick and Babs meet in a bar for some reason, random pointless and annoying reminiscing about their past before Dick tells her he's gonna turn himself in as Nightwing, pay bail then vanish from Gotham so the people can supposedly keep faith in the GCPD and not turn against them?? idk, if Nightwing vanished like that right after being caught by them, I wouldn't trust them to protect me but that's just me!

Jason and Crane have a weird and cringey chat (again. they had one before as he prepared his fanvid, talking about... Breakfast?? Jason was annoyed and didn't get the point of it, same) and he goes on this rant about how Jason needs to believe in himself and all that, makes him go "Red Hood!! Say it with me! Red Hood!" for like... what felt like at least a whole minute before he suits back up and goes back to being the murderous little shit he CHOSE to be, Molly calls him and asks him to stop he says no i have to </3 (you don't dumbass)

Dick tells everyone his plan, they all eventually agree because that's totally not gonna go wrong 🙄🙄 so they suit up and go to the GCPD to make a little show of their surrender. The cop that was bought out apparently has a lot of friends bc most of the cops present during the thing start acting up and one of them pushes Komand'r first (geoff johns, i'm in your walls with a knife) which is only so Conner can go "HEY BACK OFF 😠😠" before they then start attacking everyone. You already saw Kom gets shot, so yeah... That happens. Con stopped one bullet and stood there just 🖐🏻😠 while another was shot and hit Komand'r in the stomach or something, the most boring fight scene ensues (gar gets shirtless yay! sorry.) Barbara kills the cop who had his gun drawn on Dick and she's later on arrested by Vee for it, which... what the fuck??

so everyone left after the whole boring fight, separating and hiding. Kory and Kom go to a church where Kory decides to use her powers to try and heal the bullet wound that is KILLING her sister, and Komand'r somehow (unconsciously) absorbs all of Kory's powers, which makes Kory mad and go on a whole thing wondering if this was her plan all along, making Kory care for her so she could betray her or something. Komand'r says it's not the case and asks what will it cost for Kory to trust her etc. (honestly this whole episode is badly written, but 🥺🥺 Kory admitted she cared about Kom). then they have another argument, because Kory wants to return to the Titans and help them, but Komand'r tells her they should leave and go somewhere alone the two of them, and that Kory is a queen and was never meant to be fighting a war that's not hers and they then separate because Kory is not going anywhere. Komand'r then leaves, Kory asks where she's going and Kom tells her she's not "the only one with unfinished business" which... what? So yeah, now Komand'r has Kory's full set of powers and Kory is COMPLETELY depowered. 

And then we have a little montage of the city going to shit and full chaos, with Barbara being arrested for killing that other cop. Donna beats up a soldier who wouldn't let her come in Gotham. Because of course she comes back when everything's gone to shit, how convenient.

Gar is all alone in an empty warehouse type of place, after having been shot with a tranquilizer dart while the whole fight in the GCPD happened, (which was like half a day ago, idk how animal tranquilizer work but that must be strong stuff because he's still a little knocked out from it) he sees a raven that then turns into our beloved little Rachel!!! She tells him she found him because she felt his energy, and they have a quick recap chat where he tells her Jason and Crane turned the city into chaos she doesn't react in any particular way, so i guess she knows Jason is evil? whatever. the good thing about this scene is Rachel using her powers!! (and Ryan Potter's abs)

Then we see Dick and Conner on their own, with Conner insisting they need to go out there and help people but Dick being the dumbfuck he is tells Conner they can't, that they need to stay hidden and not be caught, so going back to Wayne Manor is also out of the question. But CONNER IS INVINCIBLE!!!!! FOR FUCK'S SAKE GRAYSON!!!!

And for our last scenes, Jason and Crane are in Wayne Manor. He makes Jason destroy a painting of Bruce and his parents because of course you have redecorate the place now that it's yours, Jason has quick flashbacks of his conversation with Bruce in Crime Alley in the shitty episode all about Jay and angrily stabs the painting like 20 times?? And Crane actually says "Welcome to Crane Manor", it wasn't just the synopsis being cringe!

ANYWAY. TERRIBLE FUCKING BAD EPISODE.

[catxsnow]

TRUTH BE TOLD D.G & J.T.

Request:  Alright homeslice hear me out: dick x reader x jason love triangle. And reader is so oblivious and doesn't realize it. One night they're fighting someone and reader gets hit with like a love/truth spell and BAM angst and fluff galore

Warning: Fluff, Angst, swears

A/N: I hate love triangles but I made an exception just this once. I’m sorry about this ending. 

Also if you don’t know, Klarion is a bratty Witch Boy. Pretty much all you need to know for this lol. Also I love Zatanna, okay I HAVE NOTHING AGAINST HER it was just for the plot. 

GIF not mine

Word count: 4.2k

Damian was tired. He was tired of seeing his brothers so ridiculously pine over you. First off, you were far too beautiful to stoop as low as them. Secondly, they continuously tried to gain your attention that has made them look like narcissistic idiots. Whether it was trying to show of their muscles with some sort of cool move or prove their intellect, they tried everything.

You didn't work with Batman full time until moving to Gotham. It was the occasional team up that got Dick and Jason absolutely infatuated with you. When they heard that you were moving to Gotham for good? Well, they were in the least to say, very, very excited. Even with Dick in Bludhaven most the time and Jason off fighting around the world, it was a hell of a lot easier to see you when they came home.

Much like Bruce and his family, you were just human. No powers, no magic, just someone who wants to see the world a better place. Maybe that was the reason that Batman trusted you so easily - well as much as he trusted anyone. Being human meant that you had weaknesses, a lot of them.

One of those weaknesses included being completely oblivious to people's feelings about you. Most of your life you were cut off from emotions. If you wanted to do a good job of cleaning up cities from crime, you couldn't be distracted by caring for others. Year after year you told yourself it was just part of the job.

Until you moved to Gotham. Becoming part of the Bat-team made you realize that it was okay to let people in, even just a little bit. If the great Batman himself cared for a select few of people, why couldn't you? Damian had become the annoying little brother to you, Tim as well. It was with Jason and Dick where things became more complicated.

The two men had obvious feelings for you - everyone was aware about it except for you. They were allured by your skills, beauty, talents, and genuine selflessness. Night after night they had an endless war of trying to see who you would choose. You hadn't noticed either of their attempts at this, to you they were just being friendly.

This was why Damian was tired of it. You didn't even know about their feelings and yet they still fought about it when you weren't around. Jason and Dick would yell at each other, trying to prove who deserved you more. Bruce and Alfred had to pull them apart before things got escalated nearly every time.

It had been going on for years, and even though they both had been in and out of relationships over the years, it seemed that the end goal was always you.

"I'm getting really fucking sick of this guy!"

It was supposed to be an easy mission, in and out before anyone could even see you. Of course, things had to go wrong. Klarion the Witch Boy had been hiding within the shadows and the second that he laid eyes on you, all hell broke loose.

Objects were thrown in your direction constantly and it was becoming a struggle to continue to dodge them all. There was no way that you could get a clear shot on him with his force field protecting him and his stupid cat. No matter how many explosives and sharp objects you threw his way, there was no chance of getting to him.

It was against your wish that you had to call in for back up. After being on your own for this mission, you were quick to realize that Klarion was far too powerful for you to take down on your own. Bruce and Damian arrived as fast as they could to help you, the others were unfortunately busy with missions and couldn't come to you even if they wished to.

Their entrance had distracted you for only a sliver of a second, but that time was all Klarion needed to cast the first spell he could think of off the top of his head. A red blast protruded from the palm of his hand and went straight towards you. It hit your right in the chest and the force of it pushed you painfully into the nearest wall.

Your head smacked against the cement and black spots covered your vision because of it. As you tried to push yourself up off the ground, you could see Klarion getting away. He wasn't prepared for a fight against Batman himself. Your arms collapsed from below you and you didn't have the energy to even sit up.

The last thing you saw was Robin running towards you with worry on his face.

><

You woke up to bright lights. The small med bay that Bruce had in the cave was always lit up and each time you were stuck there you always wished he'd get different lights that didn't hurt to look at. The groan that you admitted while sitting up caught the attention of those who had stuck around for you to wake up.

Jason, Dick, and Damian were all there waiting for you to recover from the spell that Klarion had cast upon you. They were still unsure what he had done to you, but if you didn't seem to be in any danger from it, at least nothing that would be permanent. They wouldn't know until you woke up.

The three boys hovered over you, watching your every movement. "The last thing someone wants to see waking up is your ugly faces," you joked. The three of them rolled their eyes nearly in sync as they gave you some space. "What happened?"

"Klarion hit you with a spell," Damian informed you. "How do you feel?"

"My headache feels worse than the time that I showed up hungover for patrol with Bruce. Also, I’ve got the weirdest craving for a PB and J," You blurted out. Your eyes were wide at your answer - you definitely didn't mean to say that out loud. "What the fuck. I didn't mean to say that. What did that Witch Rat do to me?"

"We don't know," Jason answered. He glanced between you and Dick. Both of them wanted to hold you in their arms, to make sure that you were safe with them. Neither of them made a move to do so, not when they didn't know what was wrong with you. "Do you feel any different?"

You shook your head. You felt fine. Your body wasn't that sore and you didn't feel sick in any sort of way. Hopefully, his spell was nothing but a distraction to get out of there and not something that would leave you suffering for the rest of your life.

"Maybe we should call Zatanna, she might be able to figure out what he did to you. What do you think?" Dick offered. If anyone could figure out a magic spell, it would be her. Your thoughts immediately went to the time that she and Dick had briefly dated and your mind went sour.

"Zatanna was never good enough for you Dick, you always deserved better than her. She's a liar, and a sneak," you said aloud. This time, your hands physically covered over your mouth from what had just come out of it. There was no way that you intended to say that out loud.

"Whoa, (Y/N)," Jason held his hands up in defense. You were never one to be snippy with other people. There were the time that you got annoyed and flipped on them, but never behind their backs like this. What the hell was going on with you? "Tell us how you really fell," he continued to joke around.

"I feel like sometimes I meant to be alone in this life. That I'll never be good enough to have someone love me because of the things that I've done, the people I've killed. It's come to the point where I don't feel like I deserve to wear this suit because of how aggressive I've become while in it."

You one again held your palm of your mouth. Where did this come from? Why did you just reveal your darkest insecurities to them? Insecurities that you could barely admit to yourself, much less someone else. Even if you did trust these boys with your life, you didn't always trust them with your feelings.

"What the fuck!" you screeched. Whatever Klarion had done to you, it was taking effect. You would never say anything like this, everyone knew that. You were reserved when it came to any emotions, maybe just as bad as Bruce himself. The surprised look on the boy's face had made you feel even more embarrassed for what you said.

The shock quickly turned to pity. They had no idea that you felt that way about yourself. Dick and Jason both wanted nothing more than to just tell you how they felt, to assure you that you were worthy of love. They might not have had the cleanest slates either, but you still deserved to have someone love you.

"Klarion put a truth spell on you," Bruce had joined the four of you. You hadn't even noticed him arrive and wondered how much of that he had heard. Bruce knew that you had killed before, but he also knew how it tore you up at night and that it wasn't something that you were proud of. "You're lucky he didn't kill you."

"Because you think I can't do things on my own, don't you?" You questioned with hostility in your voice. "I didn't mean that. Yes I did. Bruce! Fix this!" You had a turmoil within you. No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself from blurting out how you truly felt, you couldn't do it.

Bruce said nothing else, but nodded once before leaving. As soon as his father left, Damian gained a bit of an evil look in his eyes. Before you could even try to stop him, he had already started talking. Truth spell that you couldn’t resist answering? He was going to have a lot of fun with that.

"Did you eat the last slice of cake and blame it on Jason?" Damian asked. There was no way that he wasn't going to take advantage of this situation with you, but he wanted to start off with easy questions to see how powerful this spell really was. You should have known that he was going to do this.

The list of questions that any of them could ask you was horrendously long. The more you thought about it, the more you really did have to hide from them. You were pretty secretive and without being able to hold back the truth, they could find out everything from you if they wanted to.

"Yes," you told them. Jason's gained a look of hurt at your words. "Damian was holding a knife! What else was I supposed to say. He scares me." Damian looked content with your truth about him.

"When I lost my helmet a month ago, was it you that took it?" Jason narrowed his eyes. It had disappeared only for a day. When he checked the next time, it was in the exact same spot that he left it. For a while, he assumed that he had just been too sleep deprived but the more he thought about it, the more he knew that someone had to have taken it.

"Yes," You told him. "I wanted to see what the tech was like but then I kind of was having fun and didn't want to take it off. I also stole your sweater when I went over too, it's still in my room but I don't want to give it back. And I took the left overs in your fridge and left the note so you would think it was Roy."

Jason scoffed and shook his head at your answer. He wasn't expecting you to admit so much to one question but he was glad that he asked. The things he was dying to ask you, he knew that he couldn't with everyone else there as well. He had to restrain himself from asking, the answers that were just at the ready for him were so tempting.

"Why does Alfred the cat hate you?" Damian leaned his body closer to you. You felt intimidated under his stare but no matter how hard you bit your tongue you couldn't stop yourself from answering again.

"He wouldn't leave me alone so I threw him in the water fountain in the garden."

Dick and Jason couldn't help but laugh at that one. Damian looked furious at your answer but you had paid for your mistake. Cat scratched lined your arms for the next week.

“Do you sleep naked?” Jason raised an eyebrow. The questions were surely going to get a lot more personal and if they weren’t surrounding you, you already would have made your escape. Unfortunately, you felt too weak to push them away and there was no way you could outrun them. 

“Sometimes,” you answered. The truth spell didn’t seem to be quite content enough with that answer and made you spew out more unforgettable words. “Yes, all the time.” 

"Wait, wait," Dick stopped his brothers as they both opened their mouths to ask even more questions. Though there was so much that he wanted to ask you, he knew that it was wrong to do so. "This is mean, we can't take advantage of (Y/N) like this. She has the right to her own privacy."

"Thanks, Dick," you half smiled at him. You appreciated that someone stepped up to stop anything from happening that you would regret.

"But," Dick continued. Your eyes widened at what he was going to say next. You were sure that they could hear the rise in your heart rate and the see the beads of sweat form on your forehead. being unable to hide what you wanted to say made you more scared than half the missions ever did.

Dick wanted nothing more than to ask you the question they had all been thinking: Jason or Dick? He wanted to know once and for all who it was that you cared for more and which one of them had a real chance with you. This back and forth arguing with Jason was tiring him out. He didn't, it didn't seem right to ask you this question against your will.

"You hooked up with Roy when we were part of the Teen Titans didn't you?"

"After every mission."

Between Damian's disgusted face at you, along with Jason wondering how Roy ever managed to hook up with you, and Dick's disappointment, you could tell that this was not the answer that they were wanting to hear. They wanted to know why you had hooked up with Roy rather than either of them.

Truth was, they just never asked.

><

It had been days and the spell still hadn't worn off. Everyone in the manor kept forgetting about your truthfulness. It was the simple, mundane questions that they didn't expect you to be so open about.

How was your sleep? Who forgot to make coffee? Why is there no milk left? You had openly admitted to them that you were on your period and would much rather take a bullet to the chest than go through this every month.

The worst time had to be when Steph asked about her outfit. She simply wanted another woman's opinion and had completely forgot about your open honesty. After that morning she vowed never to ask about an outfit from you ever again. You felt terrible for saying such awful things to her.

Each question got a very snippy, very truthful answer which you felt bad about. Thankfully, no one teased you anymore about asking ridiculous questions about yourself that you weren't wanting to share. Bruce had scolded his kids for being rude to you - you were a guest in their home until all this was over.

Since you were staying there, that also meant that Dick and Jason had decided to hang around as well. Although you were worried they were still going to ask you certain questions, you were glad to have their company. It had been a while since you had spent time with them outside of missions.

The two heroes were starting to lose their patience with each other. Jason wanted to ask you how you felt about them, it was the perfect time in his eyes to ask. There was no way that you could lie about your feelings and they would finally know the truth after all these years. Whoever you picked, would put an end to this war.

Dick on the other hand, saw this as too much of an invasion to your privacy. If you were going to pick one of them you either would have said something already, or weren't ready to admit it. Forcing you to reveal your feelings seemed like something you would hold against them forever.

Which had brought on another fight between the men. They yelling had caught your attention from your room, but it was the loud crash that followed that made you run downstairs to see what the fuss was about.

Damian stood between Jason and Dick, both of which had a vicious look in their eyes. If there was nothing blocking them, you were sure that they would be right in the middle of a fist fight. Damian looked relieved to see you standing there.

"I'm tired of this useless nonsense," Damian scowled. "(L/N), if you were going to date either of them, which on of these imbeciles would you choose?"

That was a question you had been dreading to be asked. Both men played an important role in your life. They were your best friends, your family. Each of them supported you in their own ways and you would always be thankful for everything that that have done for you. But having to pick a favourite? You didn't want to have to do that.

Jason was the kind of person that would stand up for you no matter what. After everything that he went through with Bruce, he knew that he could be a hardass at times. Jason protected you from things that you didn't even realize you needed protecting from. He kept you sane in this crazy world that you lived in.

Dick managed to always brighten your day on the worst lows you had. He had his ups and down in life and he knew how hard it was to get out of those valleys just by yourself. Without him, you weren't sure what kind of endless pit of self-destruction you would be in. He was there for you when you needed him most.

"I..." you stuttered over your words. These past few days, you hadn't had the choice to think about what you wanted to say. Whatever you felt deep within your heart and mind was the only option that you were allowed to say out loud. Now, you felt a relief in your chest, the ability to say whatever you so choose, not the deep, hidden truth within.

"I don't have to answer that," you told the three of them. Jason and Dick had egarely been waiting for your answer, it was all that they wanted to know within the past few years. Who would you pick? You did you think would treat you better. The questions had been on the tip of their tongues all week and it was finally Damian who had caved. "I think the spell's worn off."

"What?" All three of them nearly screeched. This was the one question that they had been dying to ask you and now that they finally did it, they would never get the real truth out of you. They had missed their shot.

"No, there's no way," Dick argued. He looked panicked, Damian had admitted that the two fought over you and now that they got the chance to see what your choice really was, it was taken right from the palm of their hands. "What was the most embarrassing thing that happened to you out on patrol?"

The tightness in your chest that you felt when you had been asked questions didn't appear. You didn't feel the need to blurt anything out either. The spell that Klarion cast on you was finally out of your system, and just in time too. You didn't want to know what would have happened if you had answered that question.

Truth be told, you didn't even know the answer.

You shrugged to answer Dick's question - of course you could remember the most embarrassing things that happened to you, it was engraved in your mind for the rest of your life. Without another word, you grabbed your mug of coffee and headed over to the three of them. You kissed the top of Damian's head - to which he grumbled about it.

Damian left the three of you - there was no way that he wanted to be part of whatever was going to happen next.

"(Y/N)..." Jason trailed off. He didn't even know what he wanted to tell you. He wanted to be honest, to tell you that he loved you since the day that you had told him off. He loved the way that you protected everyone no matter the cost but still ruthless against your foes. He loved everything about you.

How was he supposed to compete with someone like Dick? The golden child. Mr. Perfect. There was no way that you would ever pick him over Dick, so why did he keep getting his hopes up? Why had he fought for so many years for your affection? That was what love was all about, he just didn't know it.

"How long has this been going on?" You asked. For years, you had no idea that they had feelings for you. Dick was the biggest flirt you knew, you had just gotten used to it. Jason was always kind to you, you assumed that he was just being the protective friend over you. All these years you were oblivious to how they felt.

"Years," Dick answered briefly. Just like Jason, he wanted to tell you his true feelings. There was nothing more that he wanted than for you to pick him. But how was he supposed to compete with someone like Jason? You were more like his younger brother than you were ever like him, that was how he assumed that you guys got along so well.

Jason was always the person that you leaned on when things were getting rough. He knew how to make you feel better about the terrible things you had done because he had done just the same. Dick was never able to fully understand the difficulties that you went through, not like Jason. After all these years, why did he keep trying?

You sighed, followed by rubbing a hand down your face. That wasn't the answer that you wanted to hear. After knowing them for half your life, you felt like an idiot for not knowing that they were feeling this way. The answer that you gave them about Roy, their reaction to it, it finally made sense. They weren't disgusted, they were disappointed that it wasn't them.

Back then, when you felt like your heart couldn't be broken and that you would never break someone else's, you would have happily had put either of them in Roy's place. Now? Now, the three of you were adults, vulnerable to heartache and mistrust. You were glad that neither of them had gotten the chance.

"I would take a bullet for either of you - I have taken one," You sat down on one of the stools that sat at the kitchen island. Both of them stood before you, waiting for you answer. The anxiety in the room had never been so high before and for the first time in your life, you felt uncomfortable under their gaze.

"And you both know that I care about you, a lot. That's something that's never going to change," you continued on. "There is no one that I trust more with my life than the two of you... But I don't think I could ever trust either of you with my heart. I'm sorry."

You stood up from your spot on the chair. The heartbroken look on their faces nearly broke you. You didn't want either of them to hurt from your answer. The last last thing that you ever wanted to do was hurt them. You loved them both, it was just never the way that they wanted to be loved by you.

With as much delicacy as you could muster through your shaking hands and wobbling chin, you placed a kiss on each of their cheeks. The men leaned into your touch, soaking up every ounce of you that they could get.

"You know that I love you both," You spoke once more just before exiting the room. Your back was facing them, turning around meant that you would have to put on a brave face and that wasn't something you were sure you were capable of. Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks - whatever friendship you shared with them, it was going to be different now. 

You were all adults, something like this shouldn’t change a friendship that had been lasting for years. Yet, if they had been arguing over you since they were young, you were sure that their teenage mentality of this whole situation would overpower their adult intuition. 

"You deserve better than me, you deserve someone that's going to love you unconditionally. I want you both to be happy, without me."

Truth was, they never would be.

[ultimatetornshipper]

Daminette December Day 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

((Note: If you’re a confused little muffin who saw our ship in the top 100 list and you want to know what in the ever loving fuck we are, feel free to dm me or mention me in a post or even to send an ask. do be warned tho that if u send me hate i will block and report u (and not just to tumblr, to everyone I know who is part of this fandom). our little sub fandom is not a toxic space and no one is allowed to make it one or there will be a fucking war))

And we’re back to our anxiety induced in denial Damian. I love this kid. Tho I do wanna make him slightly more… how do I say this… like cold? I dunno maybe I can bring that in with other people and his interactions. I just wanna write him with his proper grammar and what not and like lbh this boi is already a simp for Mari. But I don’t wanna let things happen too quickly, y’know?

Anyway, maybe I should make the theme of this chapter the fact that he has absolutely no chill. Lmao, I think that’s hilarious ngl. Also I’m just gonna pretend certain things existed back then for the sake of my sanity I can’t keep coming up with words that make sense for explaining what a thing is without saying the actual word because it didn’t exist yet. The hologram in that one chapter was hard enough bruh

Ok here we go, thanks for reading! I hope u enjoy it

Princes and Pedestals

Chapter 7 – Chill

Previous

Next

Damian rolled the ring between his fingers as the morning light filtered through his windows. She’d put the choice in his hands, it was a kind thing to do, smart too. It made sense, if this role was as important as she made it sound it needed someone who could commit to it.

The miraculous was the kind of black that seemed to stretch on forever. It had a bright green paw print on it. He hadn’t put it on yet but from what he could gather it’s kwami would appear as soon as he put it on.

He'd be one of the leaders of an entire Order. He had no idea how big it was. His mother had raised him to lead but that was an entirely different organization. How would Marinette react to that? Could he handle the responsibility?

These thoughts had been plaguing him from the moment he picked up the ring.

But that wasn’t what got to him the most. She was just so… good. She had even agreed to move her entire court to Gotham for his sake. To uproot her entire life and move everyone involved just so that he could stay with his family.

There had to be a catch.

There always is.

He sighed, overthinking everything wasn’t going to help him make this decision.

There was only one thing he could do.

He put on the ring and a bright light caught him off guard. A small floating cat like being appeared in front of him.

“Kid?” he kept his eyes closed as though he didn’t want to see who was in front of him, his voice breaking slightly.

Slowly, the kwami – Plagg if he remembered correctly - opened his eyes. Damian stared at him as disappointment flitted across the creature’s face.

He lifted his brow and asked, “Hope to see someone else, Plagg?”

He chuckled slightly, sadness lacing the sound, “My previous holder, thought maybe I'd get the chance to say goodbye this time,”

Damian frowned, “What do you mean?”

Plagg frowned, “You don’t know about my previous holder? Who gave you my miraculous?”

“Marinette did,” he said, simply, “She actually just gave me the chance to consider the offer of the position, I have the rest of the day to get to know you and make my decision,”

Plagg seemed to consider what he said, he then sat down on the bed in front of Damian. He explained the basics of the miraculous to him, the phrases he needed to use as well as what those phrases would do. The things he’d need as well as what behaviors he might pick up.

“Purring?” Damian said in a disbelieving voice, “You’re telling me I might start purring in my civilian form?”

Plagg cackled, “Yeah, don’t worry it’s not that bad,”

“Tt, what exactly is the purpose of it? In fact what exactly is my purpose? It seems like she has the leadership thing under control,”

Plagg seemed to sober up at the question, he flew up right in front of Damian’s face and looked him in the eyes, “Her job is to lead and look after her court,” his look sharpened and he narrowed his eyes, “Your job is to look after her, your job is to protect her, your job is to see her. Your purpose is to make hers as easy as possible. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll have other official responsibilities and you will rule alongside her, but your real job? Your purpose? You have to help her remember that she’s only human and that that’s okay,”

Damian stared at Plagg, the kwami stared back. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? There had to be something. Some kind of catch.

Before he could grill the kwami, Dick burst into his room.

Damian could see his brother’s clear panic and immediately stood. Dick’s eyes found his, “She’s gone,”

Damian felt himself spiral, memories flew through his mind. All the times he or any of his siblings had been taken. Cass didn’t speak for a month after the last incident. Jason’s “secret" panic attacks had increased tremendously. Tim stayed up for nights on end, only sleeping when he passed out. Damian sparred for hours and hours, hating the feeling of being useless. 

His father and Dick weren’t in Gotham at the time and Selina was helping Harley with one of her ‘projects’.

When they got Steph back after a week, she was so shook up that she kept waking up screaming from nightmares for months.

They all blamed themselves.

“Her kwami showed us a letter she left but someone could’ve faked it to buy time, they’re searching the village,” Jason said, coming into his room, holding a piece of parchment.

Damian barely registered the way Plagg seemed to study his reactions. They needed to find her, it was already afternoon, who knows how far gone she could be?

They spent hours scouring the castle. Before he knew it the moon was rising and they were all gathered in the living room, going over possibilities.

“I’m going to go get Alfred and Bruce, this has been going on long enough, it’s time to call in back up. It’s already passed nightfall and she’s not back yet,” Dick walked out of the room, barely two seconds passed before he shouted something to them, “Guys I found her!”

They were out quicker than a lightning bolt. He ignored his siblings as they all flocked around her. He took her in.

She was wearing a cloak, which Jason quickly took and gave to a passing maid. She wore one of her black dresses. Her hair was in a braid.

But the cloak was dirty, the dress had tears and the braid was messy.

But it was her eyes that got him. The blue irises looked like someone had taken every drop of sadness in the world and left it in them. They were red rimmed and puffy and there were black bags under them.

She’d been crying and she hadn’t slept. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Somewhere along the line, they moved back into the living room. Cass was sitting next to Marinette on the couch and the others were arguing.

Damian couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was here. She was safe. She wasn’t taken.

Cass tapped his arm, he turned to look at her and she started signing. (a/n ok yeah I know that sign language might not have existed but do I really care?)

Get her out of here, she’s tired, Cass signed.

Damian nodded and after asking her permission and scolding his siblings, he escorted her to her room.

Plagg whispered something to her that he couldn’t hear. 

Then she apologized for scaring him and he explained his thought process. She explained that he would’ve been able to know via their miraculous whether she was in trouble or not. He made a mental note to ask Plagg more about that.

When they got to her room he opened her door. She was about to go in but he grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked at him expectantly. He searched her gaze, he had so much he wanted to ask her, why she’d been crying was at the top of that list.

But she looked so tired, and Damian just couldn’t get himself to form the words. Instead he bid her goodnight and went back to the living room where his siblings were waiting.

All eyes turned to him when he entered. He didn’t know what to say. Instead of thinking his words through he blurted out the first thing he thought.

“She didn’t flinch when our eyes met,” he said. They all stared at him for a few seconds. Usually they would’ve laughed at his bluntness, Damian is certain, but there was something about the haunted look on her face that sapped all humor out of the situation.

Jason was crouched in front of the fire. Stephanie sat on one of the chairs while Dick leaned against its armrest. Damian was next to Cassandra on the couch and the five of them sat in silence.

Millions of questions danced through the air, the answers all just out of reach.

Little did they know that they weren’t the only ones with questions.

Outside, three pairs of eyes were watching the oblivious siblings closely.

Damian felt a chill go down his spine and turned towards the window. He walked over and stared out into the forest, he didn’t see anyone but the uneasy feeling wouldn’t leave him.

He closed the curtains.

The smallest of the three chuckled slightly, “She got herself a paranoid one, huh?”

“We need to head back,” the only guy out of the three said to the others.

They nodded and followed him deeper into the forest.

Taglist:

@animegirlweeb @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @forgottenfriends @wolf-for-life @heyitsbugette @f-rget-lt @fusser90

[thelittleredrobinhood]

Oblivion

Hey everyone, sorry I haven’t posted in a while but I’m hoping to be more active now! This is a song fic I’ve been working on for a while. Warning it’s pretty much all angst.

Length: 2,156 words

Song: Oblivion by Bastille

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne

Ratings: Teen and Up

Trigger Warnings: Major Character Death (Canonical), Blood Mention, Kidnapping, Police Mention. If you would like me to add any please let me know!

Summary: Damian lay peacefully sleeping in his fathers arms, Bruce only hopes his peace could last forever. But nothing lasts forever, especially in a life lived on the edge of oblivion.

Damian’s breathing began to even out halfway through some movie Bruce couldn’t name. He was too busy watching Damian, enjoying a moment where his son truly looked like a child, with no walls, no glare, just peace.

Patrol had been rougher than usual, had been for a while now. Slowly but surely Gotham was losing to the darkness within her, no matter how hard they tried. It was as if Gotham had given up, that she knew the war was already lost.

As the voices on the screen grew louder Damian shifted in his sleep. The man knew he should shut it off and carry Damian up to bed, but he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare risk ending the moment of peace his son had found, wherever he had gone behind his eyes.

When you fall asleep with your head upon my shoulder.

When you're in my arms but you've gone somewhere deeper.

As the end credits rolled Bruce finally shut off the TV, picked Damian up and carried him to his room. It always shocked him how light Damian was, that even with all he was capable of, he was still just a kid.

Gently he placed Damian under the covers and tucked him in, just as Alfred used to do for him. Though instead of leaving he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair from his sons closed eyes. He never showed this affection when the boy was awake, he couldn’t. As much as he loved him, he knew his child needed a mentor, not a father. And he couldn’t possibly be both.

So, he found himself in times like these crossing that invisible line. Letting himself care and love, but also worry. His son had been forced to grow up far too quickly and yet had so much growing still to do. And in these small moments, no matter how hard he tried not to, he always wondered if it was worth it.

This was a path that had taken so much from both of them, and one miss-step could cost them what little they had left. But hadn’t they given enough? Hadn’t his son given enough? Because as proud as Damian acted Bruce knew deep down the boy still felt like he needed to give more to make up for his past, to prove himself. That no matter what Damian said, he never felt good enough.

Bruce only wished Damian would know that he was proud.

Are you going to age with grace?

Are you going to age without mistakes?

Slowly Bruce stood from the bed and made his way out of the room. Pausing only for a moment, he took one last glance at his son, then he closed the door behind him.

He stopped in the hall and drew in a long tired breath, slowly raking his hands down his face. It had been a long day, the exhaustion ached in his limbs. He should sleep, but that never seemed to help anymore.

Bruce released his breath with a sigh and began the short walk to the Batcave. An action he had done so many times he barely noticed when he came to a stop in front of the large computer, and began pulling up today’s files.

Though as many reports as he finished, there seemed to be an ever-growing number behind them. He wondered idly if it would ever end; he hoped so. If only for his children’s sake.

He turned for a moment to the glass case behind him. Inside his suit stood proud, the symbol on its chest unmistakable, even when surrounded by the darkness of Gotham. The symbol that kept some awake at night and yet let others sleep soundly.

At first, he had loved the thrill, the freedom of no identity, of no one knowing who he was. No one judging his every move, measuring him up against a man he barely even knew. He was finally free of Bruce Wayne, but then Batman became an identity of its own.

Sometimes he wondered if he was better off without the mask, but the good they do can’t be done in the light. At least not yet.

Are you going to age with grace,

Only to wake and hide your face?

The daylight came and went as if it had never been there at all and Batman once again found himself jumping into the fray, Robin by his side. As the Bat finished off his last thug, he turned to watch his partner. There were still two men left standing, but it was nothing Robin couldn’t handle. Though as Batman watched he couldn’t help but see the boys that came before him.

Dicks energetic grace, Jason’s ruthless accuracy, Tim’s calculating stare. All of them willing to die for this cause, his cause. And in the end, they all will. One way or another this fight will take them all. Whether it’s their bodies in the field or their minds once they leave it, the people they were when this started won’t make it out alive. Unlike himself who doesn’t have a choice.

No matter what happens to him neither Batman nor Bruce can ever change. Both a symbol, one of justice and one of hope, and both far too needed in these dark times. Neither can ever falter. Neither can ever die.

When oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

The night air was cold in his lungs as Batman watched the fight unfold around him. A small group of thugs had kidnapped a little boy from his bedroom window, hoping to make some money.

They were in an old abandoned warehouse, near the port. If you listened you could almost hear the waves, but Bruce had other things on his mind. There weren’t many kidnappers left standing, there had only been six to begin with, but a few tried to make a run for it.

“Robin, fall back and make sure they don’t escape,” he ordered over his shoulder as he threw a punch, knocking the man he had been fighting out cold.

“The police can handle them,” Robin replied, finishing his last opponent and going to help the child.

“Now, Robin.” The tone of Batman’s command left no room for arguments.

His partner sighed but followed orders, turning his attention to the two fleeing criminals. They had barely made it twenty feet, stumbling around in the chaos, their weapons lost in the fight. Robin went for his batarang when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

The kidnapper Robin had just fought had gotten back up and was heading for the child. Disobeying Batman’s order Robin abandoned the escaping men and ran for the young boy.

The thug made it to the child first and pulled out a knife. Thinking quickly Robin tackled the man, taking his knife and lodging it in his shoulder. A non-fatal wound but a painful one. The man quickly dropped to the ground screaming in pain, blood pouring out of his arm.

Robin ignored him and turned to the small boy, who jerked back in fear. Slowly, he undid the small child’s bindings and helped him stand. Batman had finished with the other kidnappers and the police were quickly making their way inside.

After handing the kid over to the cops, Batman and Robin left the scene. Their job finished for the night, though the ride home was made in silence.

The Batmobile came to a slow stop and Damian was quick to leave, ready to put the night behind him when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Robin, you disobeyed my order,” Batman stated, his voice echoing off the cave walls.

“I saved the boy, doesn’t that matter?” Robin aske, turning on his heel.

“Of course it matters, but you also stabbed a man in front of him, Damian.” Removing his cowl Bruce looked into the eyes of his son.

“I had to take him down!” He replied, the anger and frustration clear in his voice.

“Not like that. We can’t do that; we can’t be like them,” Bruce responded, the frustration growing in his voice as well.

“I’m not one of them, stop acting like I am! I don’t need you or anyone else controlling me,” Damian shouted.

After a moment’s hesitation his son turned back around and marched up the stairs, ending their conversation for the night. This isn’t the first fight they had like this and Bruce knows it won’t be the last.

When you play it hard, and I try to follow you there.

It's not about control but I turn back when I see where you go.

With a frustrated sigh Bruce turned to the computer and started on the night’s files. In the corner of the screen, he pulled up the news coverage on what happened. He paused for a moment when he saw the boy reunited with his parents. He truly is proud of Damian, but there’s more to it than that.

The boy is crying, held in his parent’s arms. Robin may have kept him safe but there are more types of pain then physical. The kid had to watch it all up close; that affects people. They are supposed to be heroes, the ones good people aren’t afraid of, but what happens when you’re scared of the good guys, too? What road will that lead him down?

When Bruce says Robin can’t be like the criminals they fight, it’s not that he thinks Damian is evil, it’s that he doesn’t want people to think he is. His son has a chance to be something new, not just the weapon his mother wanted him to be.

He can make his own future now.

Are you going to age with grace?

Are you going to leave a path to trace?

A hand on his shoulder snaps Bruce out of his thoughts, though more than anything he wishes he could go back. Wishes he didn’t have to face reality quite yet. That everything was just as it was then.

Damian lay in his arms again, just as he had the night Bruce carried him to bed, but he wasn’t sleeping. Or maybe he was, that’s how some people choose to rationalize it. But it isn’t rational, it isn’t fair, though what in their lives ever were.

He looked so relaxed. More relaxed than Bruce had ever seen him with his eyes open. He should close them, but he feels frozen in place. Those eyes had been so full of life only a moment ago, now they might as well have been made of glass. But while lifeless they also held no pain. Bruce chocked back a sob; his son was finally free.

A voice spoke behind him, though he didn’t hear the words. The syllables and tones sounded meaningless and foreign, but he knew what they meant. It was time to go, but he couldn’t. The hand on his shoulder grew firmer, the words louder, but he didn’t dare move. His eyes locked on his son, his child. Now forever, just a child.

But oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

The wind blows through the trees, but the sky is clear. No storms or rain, hail or snow. Just the bright light of a new day. A day his boy will never see.

It’s almost ironic, that the one day the sun shines through Gotham’s clouds is the one day no one wants it to. The one day it won’t be cherished. The one day it won’t be remembered, because no one is looking up. Their eyes cast to the ground, to the new stone among the old, to the name engraved upon it. Damian Wayne.

A meaningless name for a meaningless boy. A lie for the people, an act for the world. This name was only a burden to him, an unbearable weight. A brand on his life that forever marked him for greatness. Forced him to surrender himself so that he may be molded into what others wanted. The heir to Bruce Wayne. The heir to Talia Al Gul. The heir to a future of anyone but himself.

No, his son’s true grave lies deeper, under rocks and dirt. A simple glass case, with a small scrap of fabric, a costume covered in blood. A monument to the boy he really was, to Robin. To his hardened eyes and tattered edges. He may not have been free in life, but it was the closest he ever got.

He can only hope the real Damian is remembered, that after everything he’d done, that after everything he fought for, his redemption came. And that the rest will fade into oblivion.

When oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

[fandom-meanderer]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Pt. 11]

Pairing: Batfamily x Batsis!Reader

Part: (11/?) [First] [Previous] [Next]

Genre: General Fiction

Fandom: DC Universe

P.o.V.: 3rd

Word Count: 3,793 Words

Warnings: Language

Further Notes: From now on, I’ve decided that chapters will be longer! I hope you enjoy :D

Eve had proved to be beneficial, the thought resided in Damien’s mind. Thanks to her, he was able to clear a few things up.

First of all, her, his sister, and the others in combat were all a part of a unit known simply as the Brigade. Their roles in battle are determined by the main color of their uniform, black being front-liners and white meaning support. The embroidery further specialized, red being combat specialists, silver being magic, and copper being artillery. Amongst the Brigade, his sister was the Captain, and her right hand was Alexander.

The nation they were in right now was known wholly as Caelum, while their zeroed in location is a small village known only as Hymnal. They were currently at war with the neighboring nation Imperium. From his understanding, the people of Caelum all came from different Earths, while the one they stood on at the current moment was artificial, man-made. But despite that there stood an established government, a monarchy to be specific, and an absolute one at that. The Brigade was at their mercy and, according to Eve, they couldn’t have had a worst ruling family, for reasons unspecified.

Regardless, Damien’s eyes shift over to the blackened window, they’ve been sitting in the house for who knows how long now. He was certain that the land beyond them was scorched even further down that the earth it once resided on. He scratched his head, he came here out of impulse and, no doubt, the others were probably looking for him. He couldn’t stop the wave of guilt that overcame him, but at the same time he couldn’t care less. They were the ones who didn’t understand, it wasn’t his fault, he was doing this for his very-much alive sister, after all. They, for some reason, wouldn’t understand.

—

(Name)’s vision was starting to blur. How long had they been fighting again? How many of the monsters have come? God only knows. (Name) looks over at the forest. There aren’t anymore approaching, but that doesn’t cancel out the ones still fighting. She takes a step back to steady herself, but with the growing casualties, the overlapping dissonances, and the lowering visibility, it was clear that if she stayed on field she would just become a hinderance.

“Captain?” The voice was indiscernible, be it because of sheer exhaustion or the loud howls, it didn’t matter. (Name) felt two steady hands on her arms, holding her upright.

“Don’t worry about me, I’d be fine even if I didn’t want to be,” (Name) musters out. “Who… who are you?” (Name) turns her head, but her vision just continued to blur.

“Damn, you’re in no condition to continue,” the voice continued. He slung her arm around his shoulder and led her to the safe house.

“Captain!” Another distorted voice.

“Sister?”

‘Eve and Damien,’ the Captain relaxed as whoever it was laid her on the floor. Eve kneeled over her and began performing a healing charm.

“I’m heading back out there,” the voice continues.

“Right, I’ll take care of her here, Carter,” Eve says. (Name) groans, and finally blacks out.

“What… what’s wrong with her?” Damien asks. Eve just scrunches her face.

“She’s pushed herself too long,” Eve shakes her head sadly. Damien’s eyes glossed over his sister, or whoever the hell that was. His sister didn’t look like this. His sister wasn’t supposed to be covered head to toe in blood, she isn’t supposed to have a dislocated arm, or a giant gash across her abdomen. His sister would have never worn a military uniform, let alone be the Captain of one. (Name) Wayne would have never step foot near danger, no, she would have run away and called one of them.

And, if rumors are true, she tried to call all of them that night.

“Damien, how long do you think we’ve been here?”

“A few hours?”

“For you, yes, but the Captain has been here since the fight broke out,” Eve frowns. “Which was two days ago.”

“What? That’s impossible,” Damien grunts.

“For you and me, yes, but the Captain is a special case,” Eve explains. She moves her hands to the unconscious woman’s head and rests it gently, a calming light emerging from underneath her palm. “We all arrived at different times, the latest one was Nixon, he arrived just a few hours ago.”

Damien’s mind flashes back to the man who told (Name) to abandon him somewhere and he quickly grimaced. He definitely wasn’t going to get along with him any time soon, and hopefully if things work out, he wouldn’t have to. If things worked out, in just the next day they’ll be back in the manor, as things should be.

“Either way, your sister will be back up in no time,” Eve reassures. “From what the transmissions have been saying, she’s going to make a beeline back to the Capital as soon as she wakes up… She’s been away from her post for too long, and the Royal family is starting to become impatient.”

“Post?”

“Oh, well she is the Captain of the Guard, plus, with what Alex has been saying over the transmission, one of us is going to have to head over to the Kingdom Capital and explain what’s going on,” Eve says. “Carter was going to go before, but the Captain volunteered herself. Knowing her, she’s probably going to take you with her.”

“I see.”

“She would prefer to stay, but with the hoards dying down and with Alex’s mentor coming along soon, the Captain is assured everything will be fine.” Eve quickly retracts her hand as (Name) groaned softly. Slowly, she opened her eyes and pushed herself up.

“Thank you… Eve…” she mumbles. She rolls her dislocated shoulder a bit. “Can you… Can you pop that back?” Eve nods and does as she is told and (Name) let out a satisfied sigh and thanks her.

“Anything for you, Captain,” she smiles. (Name) turns over to look at Damien.

“You and I have a lot to talk about, Damien,” she rubs the back of her head. “And as much as I’d rather rest for a bit more, I’m going to have to cut to the chase. We’re going to the Capital, and you’re coming with me. No arguments.”

“Alright,” Damien bit his tongue back.

“Eve, do you mind?”

“Not at all!” Eve stood up and waved her hand in a circle, a large portal materializing. “I’ll send you updates, Captain.”

“Please do, and be safe.”

“When am I not?” With that, (Name) nudged her head towards the portal and watched Damien enter first, then she followed close behind, the portal closing itself right as she entered.

Damien and (Name) stepped out of the swirling vortex and found themselves in the middle of a technology wonderland. If you can think of it, it’s there. Flying cars, androids, hover boards, holograms, etc. (Name) raised her eyebrow and laughed.

“Welcome to the Kingdom’s Capital,” she says. She digs through her pockets and holds out a small cube.

“Jason… Jason has taken you on his motorcycle before, right?” The name seemed uneasy on her lips.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, this will be the exact same but three times faster,” she smirks. “Try not to get whiplash, Boy Wonder.”

“Do not—” he stops talking once she tosses the cube to the floor and it expands into a large motorbike.

“Climb on,” she says, gesturing to sit in front of her. “Oh, come on. Some knights ride horses, I ride bikes, it’s much more effective.” Damien shakes his head out of his shock and obeys. In a quick rev of her engine, the two sped down the streets of Capital City.

Damien thought he wouldn’t have been so awestricken by the sight, but for some reason he was. He knew they were speeding down the highways, that much was evident by the blurring lines of light that surrounded him, but time seemed to be at a simultaneous standstill, it felt peaceful, as strange as that sounds. He decided to chalk it up to their departure from the previous war zone.

The two come to a slow at a rather run down area, and (Name) helps him off while she recondenses the motorcycle back into it’s capsule. Unlike the marvel of mainstream Capital, this area seemed more familiar, the roads were a bit less kept, there were overgrown plants in some areas, the shops had certainly seen better days, but it felt familiar.

“More like Gotham?” (Name) seemed to have read his thoughts. He only nods. “Yeah, I thought so too, follow me,” she nudges to a bar, and the two walk in swiftly. It was empty, even the barkeeper was absent, Damien looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was only 8:32 am.

“Is it that early?”

“Being in battle really fucks with your sense of time,” (Name) explains. She opens a back door and gestures for Damien to ascend the stairs first. She closes the door behind them and leads him to the eighth floor. After a series of torn wallpaper and stained carpet, they stop in front of a plain looking unit. “Home sweet home,” she kicks open the door and pushes him inside.

“I thought you were the Captain of… whatever it was,” Damien eyes her suspiciously.

“Yeah, I am, but those idiots in the Brigade break so much shit it comes out of my paycheck,” (Name) deadpans. “I’m going to go take a shower, the Queen would have a heart attack if I got blood anywhere in the mansion. There’s some juice in the fridge if you’re up to it. We’ll grab lunch later,” (Name) instructs. She disappears into the hallway and Damien is left alone once again.

He sits on the couch in the small living room and bounces on it slightly, feeling the stiff springs under him, and he looks around the unit. It was nothing like where they used to live in Gotham, even her dorm was better than this, from what he remembered. A true downgrade, and he was certain (Name) would want to come back to the Manor just from comparing it to this alone. He looked out the window, the skyline of Capital in perfect display.

At least there was that one thing worth it in this place. He continues to stoop around and his eyes land on the mantle, the only thing sitting on it was one of his father’s tools, he remembers that Dick had jokingly called it a “batarang.” He picks it up and feels the weight in his hands. Now why would his sister have kept it if she never wanted to go home.

“I made it myself.” (Name) read his mind once again. “It’s not made out of the same metal though, but I figured if I could replicate it I could apply it to other weapons for the Brigade to use.” She walks up to him and takes it from his hand, placing it back to it’s rightful place. Damien looks her over, one wouldn’t have been able to tell that she was just massacring monsters only an hour earlier. Instead, she was in a pristine uniform with a specific emblem etched onto a badge on her shoulder.

“Ready to go, kiddo?” She asks.

“Yeah.”

—

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?” Dick shouts. Tim rubs his head angrily and gestures toward the screen.

“Do you see him on the radar? No? Well, neither can I!” He argues. Jason rolls his eyes.

“Stop arguing,” Bruce sighs.

“Why am I even here?” Jason grumbles. He takes his helmet. “I’m out, this is stupid. He’ll come back when he wants to, and when he’s not thinking like some crazy lunatic.”

“Jason has a point, this isn’t Damien’s first tantrum,” Bruce concedes.

“Jason, Bruce, wait, come on, we should make sure he’s alright,” Dick reasons. Tim turns back to the bat computer and a notification pings. “It’s from an unknown source…”

“What is it?”

“If you want to find your brother, here’s a hint,” Tim recites. He looks back at his two brothers, who just shrug and look back up at the screen. Tim obliges and opens the file. It was a grainy CCTV footage, but the figure centered in it was unmistakable. They watched as Damien ran around the area, asking random people who happened to be passing by, and what not, then a stranger walked up to him and inaudibly told him something. Whatever he said, Damien followed him into the cafe. Then they walked out and into a back alley. Although they were out of sight, the bright light that came from that alley was enough to hint to them what happened.

And so, operation Save Damien is a go.

—

Soon enough, (Name) stopped in front of a building and climbed off.

“We’re here, stay close.”

Damien, at first, trailed behind (Name). They entered into the huge manor, and he quickly found that it existed in a state that was in a stark difference from the technological marvel that was Capital City. Though, a strange thought, it resembled Wayne Manor in some ways. Damien noted that the manor lacked the advancement as the city, but who was he to judge? He just fell into the world a few hours ago.

“Hey, catch up,” (Name)’s voice was softer, more familiar. She stopped to let him walk next to her. “I know what you’re thinking, why does this place look so different from the outside?”

“Yeah.”

“The Queen is paranoid that technology will be the death of them,” (Name) explains. “Which is ridiculous, I mean I get it, but we have the best cyber-security team in all of the Earths, she should just learn how to accept it by now. I can’t wait until the Prince gets coronated, I swear,” (Name) sounded more like she was complaining now.

“I’ve heard the Royal family isn’t the best,” Damien comments. (Name) nods.

“You’re right. The King and Queen are too stuck up for their own good, if they talk to you keep it brief. The Prince is more lenient, you should be fine with him. But do not speak unless spoken to. The Queen is a bitch and the King is a pushover.”

“So why are you talking about them like that?”

“They couldn’t kill me if they tried. And it would be a dumb move on them to get rid of their best playing card.” (Name) stops in front of two large doors. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

(Name) pushed the doors open and they walked into the grand throne room. Before them sat three of the most powerful people in that world and, to say the least, Damien felt the pressure in the atmosphere. It was similar to those few times when he knew his enemies out-skilled him. He found himself subconsciously moving towards his sister.

“Captain,” the King spoke.

“Your majesty.” (Name) stopped a few feet away from the thrones, bowed her head, and put her hand to her heart. Damien followed suit.

“What is that behind you,” the Queen spat. Damien didn’t miss the annoyed look in (Name)’s eyes as she looked up at the other woman.

“My younger brother.”

“I see,” she relaxes into her seat. “Quite the predicament you’ve found yourself in. If he will affect your duties, dispose of him.”

Damien’s fists clenched behind his back, but he said nothing.

“That won’t be a problem. I’ve decided to take him in as my apprentice.”

“Tch,” the Queen turned her nose. Damien suddenly realizes why Jason would be so pissed when he did that to him. “So he’s virtually untouchable.”

“Yes.”

“Give me news on that village,” the King cut into the conversation.

“It’s unsalvageable, your majesty,” (Name) replied curtly. He shifted slightly.

“How many survivors?”

“Five.”

“Hundred?”

“No, your majesty. Five,” (Name) touched her heart again. “Correction, three.”

“My god,” the Queen shook her head. “How could your team, your special operations unit, have failed?!”

“I believe I’ve told you before, your majesty, there have been frequent sightings of a new and much stronger daemon in our midst. Before, we were able to handle up to five at a time on our own, but, for reasons unknown, an entire herd descended upon the village,” (Name) stood her ground and continued to explain the situation, all of which Damien already knew as Eve filled him in.

Damien’s eyes wandered to the Prince, who was silent this entire time. He was watching (Name) with a strange mix of curiosity, confusion, and concern. His head rested on the palm of his hand as he tried to feign superiority, but he held a similar annoyed expression that (Name) had, with his eyes constantly shifting to the Queen, who seemed ready to boil over with rage.

“I see,” the King tapped his foot, the sound bouncing off of the room’s walls. “I take it the situation is being dealt with at this time.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“You are to remain in the Capital until your unit returns, the Royal Family needs top security. These attacks you have been detailing have occurred far too frequently.”

“I understand, your majesty.”

“Dismissed.” (Name) bowed her head again, turned on her heel, and left.

—

“When you called her a bitch I thought you were just exaggerating,” Damien huffs. (Name) pushed his salad towards him.

“Eat.”

“I am, I am,” Damien pouts.

“Okay, now that I’ve figured out an excuse not to get you killed, you’re still on thin ice, Dami. You have to stick with me from now on, no wandering off. And don’t try lying to the Queen, her ability is TruthSeek. It’s impossible to lie to her.”

“Ability?”

“Oh, right. Well, everyone in this world, or at least when we entered, gained something we call “Special Abilities,” basically they’re all unique things we can do. The Queen can tell if you’re lying, the King can cause all of your bones to crush in the snap of his fingers, and so on.”

“What’s your ability?”

“Confidential.”

“Why?”

“We’re in a public space,” (Name) shrugs.

“What about the Prince?”

“We call it SharpShot, but after a few demonstrations, Alex and I are thinking it’s something else. Basically, he is able to always hit his target. He could throw it the other way and it would still find its way to its destination. Alex theorizes that it has something to do about manipulation of space now, but we’re working on it,” (Name) rambles. “Now it’s your turn. How’d you get here?” It sounded more like a demand than a question.

“The morning after you came home, you left again, and for some reason no one remembered that you were ever really there. So I went out to look for you on my own. After that this man in a lab coat came up to me, told me where you were, and took me there.”

“He landed here with you.”

“No, just me.”

“Describe him some more.”

“Gray hair, tan vest, silver pocket watch—“

“Do you remember the watch’s engraving?”

“I do, but I can’t describe it.”

“Can you draw it?”

“Yeah.” Without wasting another second, (Name) grabbed a pen from her pocket and a napkin and handed it to him.

“Take your time.” (Name) drank her coffee as Damien scribbled away in front of her, but truth be told, as soon as he began to draw the head of a dragon she already knew. “The man who took you, his name is Kristoff Hargreeve. He’s the head scientist for Imperium, and also who Alex and I believe is orchestrating the daemon attacks. But I’m curious as to why he would bring you here to me, and not with him.”

“It would make more sense to use me as a hostage,” Damien adds in, (Name) nods curtly.

“Exactly. And it can’t be a distraction, even if I was away the rest of the Brigade are more than capable of handling the war,” (Name) leaned back on the back of the booth and stretched her legs out. “I’ll talk about it more with Alex when he gets back.”

“That name is familiar,” Damien mutters.

“Well you have heard it tossed around left and right,” (Name) chuckles, the annoyed look from Damien makes her laugh even louder. “Geez, kiddo, I’m just kidding. Yeah, he’s the same Alex who I used to penpal.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“He has the picture of me that I sent him, even with the note on the back. And it’s not weird, I have his too,” (Name) shrugs. “So we stuck together, it was easier to have a familiar face in a world of the unfamiliar.”

“Why didn’t you ever come home?” Damien asks. It was clear that they had the ability to traverse the different Earths, (Name) had a feeling the question was going to come up, but she had secretly prayed it didn’t.

“I didn’t want to.” Damien opens his mouth to argue, but is quickly cut off by yet another new face.

“(Name)! Thank god you’re okay!” The waitress bounded up to them and wrapped her arms around (Name). “I was afraid that I’d have to pay Tyler.”

“What?”

“We were betting on whether or not you’d make it back.”

“Oh fuck you two get out of here!”

“Pay up, bitch boy!” She looks over her shoulder at another waiter, Tyler, who rolled his eyes and pulled out a bill. The waitress slides in next to Damien. “This your secret kid, (Name)?”

“No, he’s my brother.”

“Oh my god, he is so adorable—“ the Waitress reaches out to pat his head but Damien catches her wrist before she could move another inch. “And now I see why he’s your brother. Hey, I’m Rebecca.”

“Damien.”

“(Name) and Damien Wayne, huh? Has a nice ring to it,” Rebecca smiles. Her eyes fall on the drawing in front of Damien and she straightens herself, she leans in and whispers only loud enough so that he and (Name) could hear.

“They’re pulling back their forces at Gronder.”

“What? Why would they do that? They have the upper hand,” (Name) mumbles.

“Me and Ty were wondering too, but according to Crys, a huge shipment of whatever was just delivered to their position. It was blue flagged too.”

“Living cargo,” (Name) mutters. “The entire East army is about to get wiped out.”

“If the King deploys you there I will not hesitate to rip his head off, (Name).”

“Please don’t do that.” (Name)’s lips draw a straight line. Then everything started to make sense, the pieces fell together, and Damien was able to pinpoint the exact moment (Name) realized that she had made a mistake.

Tag List:  @loxbbg @holymotherofchickennoodlesoup @ijustwannabecanadian@oneshots-galore @xapham @peqchynero @sono-sakana@theroyalbrownbarbie @audioshoes @allycat4458 @izzy28901 @buchanangaby @gabytodd

[meterokinesis]

Stars as Sharp as Knives

Read it on AO3

Prompt: stabbed

TW: Violence, PTSD, Disassociation

Summary: Tim remembered getting stabbed in vivid detail. The images were horrifying on their own, but together they formed a sick film that played on loop in Tim’s mind. Even after waking up the next morning, and the morning after that, he kept wondering: why am I alive?

Tim remembered getting stabbed in vivid detail.

In a job like this, where you either saved the day or ruined it all, he was used to cuts and scrapes and wounds. He anticipated them even, which the first aid kid he kept in his utility belt could attest to. But getting stabbed that night in the desert was something else.

The sound of steel through flesh. A cruel whisper. Blood, warm and sticky. Sand in his nose and eyes. Cool near-winter wind that ruffled through his hair. Dirt under fingernails. The weight of a body dragged behind him. Brick walls with metal stairs. A soft bed, with downy pillows stained rust.

The images were horrifying on their own, but together they formed a sick film that played on loop in Tim’s mind. Even after waking up the next morning, and the morning after that, he kept wondering: why am I alive?

This was a question he’d been asking himself for longer than he cared to admit. He was alive because no one had managed to kill him yet, and no more. If the universe had its way, he would be dead eight times over. Tim was just lucky, he supposed. But not lucky enough to escape the nightmares.

He remembered while attempting to sleep in the lavish jail cell Ra’s al Ghul concocted for him. He remembered while training with high level assassins, every time they went for a jab at his stomach. He remembered when Tam hugged him, and his reflex was to make sure she didn’t have a knife. He remembered on his first night back in Gotham, when he had to update his medical records to say “Patient has no spleen after a traumatic injury to the abdomen.”

The nightmares were the worst. They played out the scene in gory detail, each time with a new sort of reverence for Tim’s suffering. It wasn’t always the Widower who stabbed him; sometimes it was his father, or Jason, or Damian, or the mugger that killed Bruce’s parents. On bad nights, it was Bruce. On worse nights, it was Stephanie.

The nightmares persisted long after he defeated Ra’s al Ghul at Wayne Enterprises, long after Bruce finally returned and Tim was welcomed home with open arms. No, they lasted for months--every night a sick remembrance.

                                     ____________________

The first time he sparred with Dick after ending Ra’s plot, he used the new skills he picked up at the Cradle. At first they traded blows lazily, wearing down the floor by walking the same steps of a familiar dance. Then Tim dared to spin out--try one little move--and the game was afoot.

Tim didn’t pretend that he was better than Dick--he knew he wasn’t. But he had more range and was the better strategist, so at least their spars were interesting. They danced around the mat, neither submitting. Like all of their practices, it went until someone gave in or passed out. The Waynes never called out.

Dick went for Tim’s shoulder with his escrima sticks, which Tim blocked with his bo staff. By the time he registered the other stick moving toward his stomach, it was too late.

Forgoing all sense of etiquette, Tim roared and swung out with his staff, trying not to relish in the feeling of it connecting with Dick’s head.

“Jesus, Tim, what was that?” Dick’s voice floated from somewhere above. “I know we didn’t specify ‘no headshots’ but it seems like a giv- holyshitareyouokay?” It was then that Tim realized he was sitting on the ground, his head between his knees and his hands protecting his neck. In a way, he looked like the tornado drills they made him do at school, even though Gotham never had tornadoes. His body didn’t feel entirely real, like instead of inhabiting it like always, he was merely borrowing it for a second.

Dick’s voice, no doubt saying something reassuring, murmured in his ear. The words all blended together in a soup of pleasant sounds, one that Tim didn’t even attempt to decipher. Somewhere in the haze, he heard the telltale click of the comms, followed a few minutes later by heavy footfalls.

Bruce’s gruff voice took over for Dick’s soothing one, asking him questions that he didn’t know how to answer. Even if he could, he wasn’t entirely sure his mouth was still a mouth, let alone one that could form words. Instead, his brain gave him a front-row seat for the premiere of his least favorite movie in existence, where Dick stabbed Tim in the abdomen, his face contorted into something evil and totally unlike Dick. The Not-Dick didn’t stop after the first time, of course. Instead the scene rewinded over and over again, like a broken film from a museum about the tragedies of war.

Tim didn’t remember anything past that.

                                      ____________________

Tim woke up in his bed at the Manor, his heartbeat thunderous but slow. He opened bleary eyes to see Bruce sitting in the armchair near his window, reading a copy of the Wendy the Werewolf Stalker comic tie-ins Bart had given him last year for Hanukkah.

“Good morning. Or, should I say, evening. You almost slept for a full day,” Bruce said warmly, closing the book.

Tim didn’t return his tone. “Why are you here?” He demanded, clutching his blankets where they fell on his lap.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” Bruce avoided the question with trained ease, something Tim saw much too often in himself.

“I- Yeah. A little.” He remembered Dick stabbing him, but that couldn’t be Dick, right? They were in the desert, and it would take at least a day to get from the Syrian Desert to Gotham. His hand wandered over to his stomach. No open wounds or bandages, but there was a long scar.

“You disassociated. Do you know what that means?” Bruce asked, and Tim nodded mechanically. “We think that something during sparring practice triggered a trauma response.”

Tim heard the words, but he wasn’t sure his brain was following all the way.

“I’m fine, B. I just freaked out a little. No big deal.”

Bruce leveled his dad-stare at Tim. “Tim, with all due respect, that was not ‘freaking out a little.’ You were curled up in a ball on the mat, refusing to speak to us. When we managed to coax you into a sitting position, you attacked me. We had to put you in a safe hold until you calmed down.”

Tim opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I think we need to talk about this. I understand if you don’t feel safe yet, you’ve been through a lot over the past year. I love you and I want to be here for you, but if a professional would help, we can do that too. Dick knows this guy in Metropolis-”

“No!” The word was out of Tim’s mouth before he could stop it, followed by a torrent of others. “I don’t need a shrink. I’m fine. Can I leave now? Or are you going to keep me prisoner like he did?”

“Of course not,” Bruce said, his voice heartbreakingly gentle. “This is your home, Tim. You can come and go as you please. However, I think we need to talk about-”

“Cool. Later.” Tim rolled out of bed and tugged on shoes and a jacket as Bruce tried to reason with him. They both knew that he could try to keep Tim here, either with logic or the threat of getting grounded, but neither would work. At his best, Tim was tenacious. At his worst, he was stubborn.

Tim traipsed down the grand staircase as Bruce followed behind him. Damian glowered at him from the sitting room, but at least he didn’t say anything. Dick was nowhere to be found. Tim pushed his way out of the manor, a small smile of satisfaction crossing his face when the door slammed and cut off Bruce’s pleas. It reminded him of every bad teen movie he’d ever watched, except the exhausted dad and pushy mom were replaced by Batman. Wasn’t that every kid’s dream?

                                       ____________________

He wandered through Bristol township, avoiding the spots he knew the paparazzi liked to frequent. Wouldn’t that be a million-dollar picture: Bruce Wayne’s high-school-dropout-turned-CEO son walking through the sea of McMansions in converse, a kid’s tracker bracelet, pyjama pants, and Cass’s purple NorthFace.

He was on some cul-de-sac where every house looked the same when he heard the telltale swish of someone following him. He didn’t turn around, just kept up his leisurely pace. Either they’d announce themselves, or they wouldn’t.

He got his answer when a hand snaked over his chest and a body pressed against his back, stopping him in his tracks.

“Hello, Detective,” Scarab whispered in his ear, and Tim’s veins turned to ice. Her hand cupped his face, and she slid around to his front. Tim didn’t believe in God, but he had no doubt that she was Satan incarnate.

“I have a gift for you,” she purred, her hands tracing his sides and back. He didn’t dare respond. “It’s from your friend.”

Tim swore his heart stopped. Ra’s al Ghul didn’t send gifts, he sent warnings. And threats. And death. Which is why he wasn’t entirely surprised when Scarab drove a knife into his chest with a sort of tender ruthlessness. She guided him to the ground, left a ghost of a kiss on his temple, and stepped out of view.

Tim lay gasping on the pavement, trying not to bleed out. His fingertips brushed the bracelet, weakly holding down to send out a tracking signal. If he was lucky, they’d see it. If not, then he’d die. It was that simple.

The stars here were dimmer than the ones in the desert. It was all the light pollution, he knew. Same stars, but an altogether different sky. There was a metaphor there somewhere, but he had lost too much blood to focus enough to find one.

His eyelids felt heavy, and it took everything in him to keep them open. Bruce would be here soon. He had to be. He was Batman, that’s what he did.

As Tim staggered through each breath, he couldn’t help but remark the irony of it all. He’d spent all this time worried about one old wound that he hadn’t seen the next one coming.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Robin’s Requirements Summary: The name’s Robin,” the kid said with Dick’s smirk and Jason’s accent. Bruce felt ice crawl up his veins. He was going to throw up.Robin number three wasn’t human and Bruce didn’t know how keep going after Jason’s death. They make it work (after a rough start). AN: I decided to put up all the chapters I’ve posted of this story so far in proper order on tumblr since some people prefer reading here. Here’s the AO3 link to the story! I update weekly!

Chapter 1

Summer in Gotham was almost unbearable. The smoke and ashes lingering in the air mixed with the heat radiated from the asphalt to create an atmosphere that made it difficult to breathe or even just move in. In-between the tall skyscrapers and the houses squished into spaces much too small for them, you got the closest you could be to the experience of boiling to death without actually dying.

Winter may freeze your limbs, break away one finger after another, but summer’s heat, similar to the blast of an explosion, burned away your skin.

The summer nights appeared to be the much kinder, softer counterpart to the day time for the poor creatures who had to make their way through dark alleys.

It was a farce.

Gotham wasn’t kind, she hadn’t been in a long time.

The coolness of the darkness lulled you into a false sense of security. You were exhausted already, scared of the shadows too maybe if you weren’t used to them, or if you knew what lingered beyond them, but at least death didn’t await you in the sun’s divine punishment.

A logical but wrong assumption.

Grim hunters stalked the dark, waiting for you to slip up, to make a mistake.

Or at least, they used to be there to sink their teeth into you.

For the longest time Gotham had been protected by three guardians, predators, but nowadays you only ever spotted one of them, and if you did, you were better off to slice your own throat, or so they said.

Nobody had ever attempted to deny that meetings with the Bat could get bloody, especially if you provoked him. Still, they didn’t used to look like a war zone, entrails spread over the grey asphalt as empty eyes judged you for all the horrors you committed. The Bat used to be kinder, more forgiving, more understanding.

He wasn’t anymore. He had broken like Gotham had so many decades ago.

He still protected the weak, the needy, the helpless, but he no longer fought for the damned.

Instead of being their ferryman, he brought them directly to hell. It wasn’t death, not yet, but by the time he was done, you would wish for it.

People wondered what had changed right up until the Joker nearly choked on his acid laughter in the Bat’s arms, laughing about little songbirds cut up so badly you couldn’t tell the red of their feather coat from their blood.

It made sense then that the Bat would start to lose control. Everybody knew that the little Robin was off-limits. You try to could hurt and maim him, or break him for sure, these were the rules of the streets, and if he wanted to fly through them, he had to acknowledge them, but only ever as long as the Bat was your actual target.

You did not target Robin, Gotham loved him.

(There was a price to be paid for his death.)

X

“Duke, honey, it’s time for bed!”

“I know, Mom! Just five more minutes!”

Duke Thomas considered himself to be a regular ten-year-old. He loved video games, Star Wars, his Mom’s cooking, his Dad’s jokes, and, above everything, Robin Spotting. It was so much fun to stay up late, hoping to catch a glimpse of that colorful uniform or hear the joyful laughter.

Duke had actually seen Robin once too, on his fire escape. The hero had smiled at him and then put his index finger on his lips, indicating for Duke to be silent. Caught up in his excitement, Duke hadn’t even been able to speak to the hero or do anything but stand at his window, jumping up and down. He had watched as Batman caught up with Robin and the duo had flown away, Robin pretty much glued to Batman’s side.

The alley beneath Duke’s window was dark and dirty, but the heroes had been able to light it up.

And now Robin was gone.

Duke couldn’t believe it.

The police hadn’t said anything about Robin’s disappearance. Duke checked the news every day when his parents weren’t watching him too closely, lest they start thinking he wanted to watch those instead of his cartoons, hoping to hear about something interesting that wasn’t economics. However, the papers had plenty to say about Robin. His Mom called them ‘gossip rags Duke was better off not paying too much attention to’, but he had read them regardless.

The papers claimed Robin was dead, said that the Joker had killed him.

Duke was sure they were lying.

Robin was magical, Robin couldn’t die.

(But the Joker rarely appeared to be human either.)

Maybe somebody just had to remind Robin that he was still needed here. Duke sometimes got so caught up in his thoughts, he forgot to do his homework. It was probably something similar for Robin

“Duke, lights out!” His Dad said when he passed by Duke’s room.

“Just one more minute!” Duke pleaded, not even looking up from his desk.

“Alright, alright.” Dad laughed. “But you have to tell me what you’re writing.”

He entered the room and stepped closer to take a look at the sheet of paper Duke had been writing on, but Duke quickly pulled it to his chest to hide his scribbles.

“No! You can’t see it! It will take away the magic.”

You didn’t show your parents the letter for Santa either, or it wouldn’t get to Santa. Of course, the latter wasn’t real, but Robin was. And honestly, there were rules about this kind of magic – his parents should know them.

Dad just raised his hands in defeat, still smiling in amusement.

“Okay, buddy, but tomorrow you have to share with the class.”

Duke frowned, unsure whether that would be enough time for Robin to get his letter.

“Later,” Duke yielded. “Once I know it worked.”

Dad’s smile softened and he patted Duke’s shoulder.

“Only one more minute, then bedtime. You have school tomorrow and I don’t want to get another call about you falling asleep in class.”

Duke huffed, but couldn’t hide his happy smile. “That was only once!”

“Once enough. Sleep well, kid.”

“Night, Dad.”

Dad walked out of Duke’s room, closing the door behind him so that Duke was staring at the Justice League poster pinned to the wood. Batman needed Robin, so Duke would remind the short hero that he had to come home.

He quickly finished his letter, packed it in transparent cover, and hid it away in his Super Secret Special box. It was actually just a shoebox he had painted yellow and orange and decorated with plastic gemstones, but Duke loved it. Then he turned off the light and crawled into his bed. Duke took his alarm clock from the nightstand and set the alarm for a few minutes before midnight. He wasn’t sure whether twelve o’clock really was the right time, but it seemed very important in a lot of movies, so Duke figured if he had to choose, he might as well go with this time. If he succeeded, he’d maybe write to the police as well, tell them how to contact Robin since the Bat-signal only worked for Batman.

Falling asleep when he was so nervous turned out to be a chore. It felt just like the evenings before his birthday when he could hear the blood rushing through his ears and it kept him awake for as long as possible.

Duke managed to sink into sleep sometime after his parents had gone to bed as well. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d drifted off right until his alarm rang again and Duke woke up startled. Tiredly, Duke crawled out of his bed and put on his socks to minimize the sound he made. He picked put the box and began tonight’s journey.

When he opened the door, he winced at the jarring sound. Even if he tried to be as slow as possible, the door refused to stay silent. Duke halted to listen if his parents still slept. His father’s snoring turned out to be a rather practical way of measuring it. Thankfully, his parents also didn’t wake when Duke stole the house keys out of his mother’s purse. With his box in hand, Duke sneaked out of the apartment and headed towards the stairs leading up to the rooftop.

The air inside the staircase was stuffy, receiving no circulation whatsoever. On tiptoes, Duke walked past the doors of his neighbors, being exceptionally careful when he passed the apartment of Ms. Norrington. She was, in the words of his usually calm and kind mother, a mean old witch, except she hadn’t said witch, but another word starting with a ‘b’ that Duke was too frightful to repeat. The old lady and her ugly little dog always watched Duke and his friend with her mean big blue eyes, especially when they were carrying toys. In Ms. Norrington’s opinion, there was nothing more terrible than children playing and having fun. One of these days, she wouldn’t even wait until Duke had made a sound, she’d just snatch his football away as soon as she would spot him. Therefore Duke needed to pass her without alarming her.

One step, another, a third and a fourth and Duke had done it. Victoriously, he rushed up the remaining staircases to the rooftop. If his parents knew that he was up here, they’d ground him for sure. None of the kids in the apartment block were supposed to go upstairs because the fence surrounding the roof hadn’t been fixed in ages and someone could get hurt or, even worse, fall off the roof when playing.

Duke thought it was stupid. He wouldn’t ever be dumb enough to fall off a house. However, that hadn’t stopped the adults from locking the door between Duke and his goal. But for that purpose, Duke had snatched his mother’s keys. His own keyring only had the keys for the front and backdoor, one for his bike and one for his Cousin’s home. His mother, on the other hand, did possess a key for the top door.

The lock was rusty and the key wouldn’t turn properly when Duke tried to open it. Duke bit on his tongue in concentration as he twisted the key multiple times until finally, after what felt like ages, the door clicked and opened.

Duke slowly closed it behind himself again, as to avoid the wind pushing it into the lock again with a loud BAM! Certainly, old Ms. Norrington would wake from that. Duke would just have to hurry and be finished before she managed to get out of bed, put on her pink shoes, ugly old and gray bathrobe and made it to the door.

Gotham was an ugly city according to the news, but Duke had long since learned not to trust them. Sure, the city could be a bit cleaner, but monuments like the shining WE building or the green Robinson park in the distance were signs that Gotham wasn’t as shitty as people claimed. The breeze here up on the rooftop was quite enjoyable too. They should tell their landlord to repair the fence quickly so that Duke could play Batman and Robin with his friends up here. That would be way cooler than going to the playground. Here they would be up on a real rooftop and didn’t have to pretend the monkey bars were the top of the Crystal Palace. Thinking of his two heroes, Duke reminded himself of his mission.

He looked around for the best spot to put his letter and settled on the water tank. A short ladder was leading up to it and so, with his box secured under his arms, Duke began to climb. He slipped nearly once or twice, but always managed to catch himself at the last second.

Once he reached the top, he allowed himself to sit down just to catch a quick breath. He was working on a schedule after all.

Duke set his box down next to him and took off the cover, revealing his letter to Robin and his most prized possession: a Batarang.

He’d found it in the trash a while ago and ever since he had the supreme right to always play Batman if he wanted to. He hadn’t told his parents about it because he knew they’d take it away, even if Duke didn’t take it outside his room usually. Why would he? He didn’t want it to get stolen by others!

Duke reached for the Batarang and then traced its edges with his fingers. It was still sharp, if he wasn’t careful he’d cut himself.

Duke didn’t have a Bat-signal, but he also didn’t want to attract that much attention. He was sure that if he just scratched something in the wooden surface of the water tank, Robin would spot it sooner or later. With the sharp side of the weapon, Duke began to scratch a big R into the wood. He made sure his carvings were deep enough that they’d be seen from above.

Then, with as much might as Duke could measure up, he rammed the Batarang through his letter into the wood so that it wouldn’t just fly away when left unsupervised.

There, his work was done.

Content with himself, Duke allowed himself to observe Gotham for a little while longer, forgetting Ms. Norrington for a moment. He wouldn’t get a sight as neat as this one again in a long while.

Duke climbed down from the water tank and returned inside. He made it past Ms. Norrington’s door and slipped into his apartment and room, his parents still sound asleep and none the wiser of Duke’s little adventure.

Yawning, Duke pulled his blanket over his head. It was sad that he had to give up his Batarang, but maybe he’d get a new one once Robin returned. And Duke didn’t mind playing other heroes.

After all, now it was really just a question of time.

X

Beneath him, the city was wide awake, even during such late hours. He should probably return to the Cave for tonight, he didn’t have any supplies besides the one lone Batarang. While he was sure that his wit alone would suffice to support Batman, a utility belt filled with all kinds of tricky equipment would be immense support, never mind much more fun.

He was already on the move, heading home for the first time, when Gotham started screaming for help. Her shouts spoke of fear, of a terrified mother scared for her children’s safety.

Somebody was threatening her - who?

Batman wouldn’t approve of it, he was sure, but generally speaking, it wasn’t his job to listen to Batman. He was there to support the Bat and, more importantly, keep Gotham safe. He couldn’t do that from the Cave.

With a wild grin, he jumped from the rooftop, executing a perfect landing on the balcony of the next house. Quickly he moved forward, making his way through the cold September air to come to Gotham’s aid.

He was Robin.

He had been born for this.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Fates Be Damned - fic

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

~~

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

Because this…this wasn’t happening, right?

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

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

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

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

How much he didn’t want to go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dick…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dick…!”

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

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

“G-G-Grayson.” He murmured.

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

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

“I’ve got you now, kiddo.”

~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he hung up.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

“I need to see him.” Bruce growled.

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

“He’s my son, Dick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

It was never stated out loud, or made official.

Damian lived with Dick now. Permanently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

“You’re too giddy about this.”

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

“Too giddy about what?”

Jason motioned to Damian. “Being his dad.”

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

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

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

“Could have just asked him.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dick, it’s been months.”

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

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

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

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

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

“AKA…like a dad.” Jason smirked.

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

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

“Think I should have kept him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And alive.” Selina continued.

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

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

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

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

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

“Pissed.” Cassandra interjected.

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

~~

It’d been ten months.

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

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

Away from his father.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

Dick tried to give a little smile at that.

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

Damian leaned back, stared thoughtfully up at the stars.

Then smiled.

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

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

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

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

“I know you are.”

~~

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

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

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

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

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

Old man tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighed, and looked back at Bruce.

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

Bruce waited, looked like he was holding his breath.

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

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

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

Bruce looked down.

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

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

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

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

Bruce closed his eyes.

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

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

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

Bruce did look up at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Damian.”

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

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

[elareine]

A fool to believe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, mention of war and injury Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Daemons, though they barely feature here tbh, Getting Back Together, Misunderstandings, mention of serious injury, but no details given, Fluff, the lightest of angst, Epistolary Series: Part 3 of foolish, perhabs AO3: /18771535

When Jason Todd is tired, frustrated, angry, happy - in short, when he feels any emotion at all -, he writes a letter. Here are six letters he never sent.

 A letter that was torn up by the writer in disgust at himself:

Dearest Dear Tim,

I know what I’ve done will be a shock to you. I know you will be angry. So am I. As I write this, I am in London, waiting to be shipped out to France, maybe Spain.

However, what could you expect if your father tells me that your family will never accept me us and that we’re over? Of course you choose them. Why wouldn’t you? I understand. But you could’ve at least told me yourself, not through your father! He’s always looked down on me. I could tell he was utterly convinced he was saving you.

I expected better from you. I thought you would at least tell me yourself. Why didn’t you? I don’t understand.

Do you even remember what you told me? How it didn’t matter that I don’t have a family anymore, because we would make our own? Ha.

Was I just a diversion? An amusement because you were bored? Do you not love me?

 Why? I just don’t understand

 Damn it

A letter that was replaced by a terse note of acknowledgement:

Tim,

I see that I have my answer then. I was wondering - hoping, even - if it hadn’t just been a misunderstanding, your father testing me, perhaps, that somehow, you still loved wanted me. But no.

“It is obvious that our visions for the future do not match.”

What vision was that, then? A vision where I am somehow highborn, with rank and income enough to impress your family? Because it can’t be the future we have been talking about, with us together, come what may, for better or worse, in sickness and health, or you wouldn’t have had your father deliver the notice and only write me yourself weeks later.

Could you at least explain yourself? Tell me what made you change your mind? Was it really just the pressure of potentially losing your family? What did I do wrong? I love loved you so much; why wasn’t that enough?

 A letter that Roy found and threw away because it wasn’t legible:

How is it that I still find myself talking to you in my mind? I want to tell you about the people I met here. About General Prince, who is the most amazing fighter I have ever seen and the best person, too.

It wasn’t her fault. Sometimes, the enemy is just too strong.

I made friends, you know. I talk to them. I’m not alone but for you anymore. One of them carried me out of that hell.

And still, I keep thinking I hear your laugh. Or, more likely here, your sarcastic comments. You would have had that coward cowing at his knees…

I’m not making any sense, I know. They fixed me up, we thought, but fever is setting in. My hands are shaking. I just wanted to say…  I miss you very much.

Maybe your father was right. You would have been a widower within a year.

 A letter that was thrown into the fire, unnoticed by cheering sailors:

Dear Mister Drake Wayne,

I would hereby like to inform you that I have just received my commission as an officer. I am navy, now. The General saw how I fought and gave me an opportunity to transfer and buy my commission. I must confess to being very pleased. Not only does this mean a much better income and chance to advance, but I have also always longed to see more of the world than an infantry soldier could.

My new rank also means that I was informed about your and your family’s activities for the Crown, by the way. I cannot escape you, it seems. So there is no need to keep that a secret anymore.

I suppose you wonder why I am writing to you, three years after we’ve broken our engagement. I must admit that there is some curiosity still lingering after that event, that I would hereby seek to satisfy.

Back then, you spoke of different visions for the future. My lower social status, in particular, was objectionable, as you insinuated. What do you think now? Would I fulfil your standards? Or would my birth still speak against me? Am I good enough now?

I am glad to inform you that others do not find me as repulsive. Now, if only I could stop comparing everyone to you and find them wanting. Hopefully, I will find myself married soon enough, so that we both may be spared any embarrassment when I return to Gotham eventually, as I am sure you have found another long ago. Is it the oldest Kent boy? Some wealthy stranger, perhaps, sweeping you off your feet, giving you everything I never could

A letter that would have arrived in Gotham after the writer did, anyway:

Dear Tim,

How are you? I’m doing well, thank you for never asking. It’s “Captain” now. Captured two ships, made money, made the General proud. I was even able to pay her back.

So now it’s back to England for us. I will not leave the navy - where would I go? - but we have accumulated many days of leave, and Roy Harper wants to go to his best friend’s wedding. That’s Sir Roy Harper, now, in case you are wondering, and that best friend is your brother. Small world, huh? He wants me to come along, and I have no excuse to give.

I suppose I should have known that I couldn’t avoid Gotham forever that this day would come.

You told me about Dick and Barbara Gordon. I remember the exasperation in your voice when you spoke of his puppy love and their inability to see how true it ran. There will be no way to avoid seeing each other at this wedding.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I miss you - I can admit that now - but I don’t want to see you. What if you are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? What if six years did nothing but make me love you more?

What am I saying? We both know that my pride and temper will prevail once I see you.

Hopefully, our meeting will show me that I have been holding on to a phantom all this time. My idea of you, that idealized memory tainted by nostalgia for peacetime, cannot possibly compare to reality.

 A letter that the writer left on his writing desk, but that Tisiphone and Lachesis hid under Tim’s pillow for him to find upon waking:

Dearest Tim,

Do you know how many times over the last seven years I have found myself in this exact position? Sitting at my desk, thinking of you, writing a letter that you will never read… Yet today I write with the hope that it will be the last time, for tomorrow, I will stand in front of God and vow to be with you for the rest of our lives.

I do not kid myself that we will never be apart. You have your work, and I have mine. We are both quite stubborn about it, too, which I think we have adequately proved in this lifetime. But I swear to you that I will not let words go unspoken anymore. Everything I write here, I have told you or will tell you, if need be, again and again. I will not see us hurt for lack of communication again.

When I returned to Gotham, I was so angry to see you behaving as if nothing had happened. You introduced me to eligible bachelors - it seems so ridiculous now. What in God’s name ever possessed us to do such a thing?

Still, I knew you better than we both remembered, and I couldn’t understand how you could look so sad even as you were smiling and surrounded by your family. Yet something in me recognized that feeling and echoed it. It’s a loneliness that’s not borne out of a lack of friends or family, but out of want for a heart that calls to your own.

There is, simply put, no one else I could ever imagine spending my life with.

I know what marriage means. I know it means more than just declarations of love and long walks together; that there will be hard times. I swear to love you even when you are in a foul mood or withdrawn; when we fight again and again over the small and big things; when one of us has to leave for long periods of time, and we don’t know when we will see each other again; when one of us wishes the other would just go away for need of some quiet. I will even endure weekly dinners with your family. Yes, even Damian. There, that is a proper declaration of love, is it not?

I started writing this as a way to prepare for my vows tomorrow. Now that I think about it, though, I am reconsidering my strategy. As much as you’ve always secretly appreciated my letters (and you needn’t lie about that - Lachesis told me), public displays of affection still make you blush.

Well. With the notable exception of the day I proposed a second time, of course. You always know just what I need.  

Still. Perhaps you would not appreciate it if I poured out my heart in front of everyone. I think I will keep my vows to the most crucial point, the one thing you need to know:

I love you.

Yours,

Jason

[dontfeedthebabytigers]

You’ve Got So Much Heart: Chapter 5

ao3 link (x)

last chapter (x)

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When Batman was able to retrain all of the cultists and confirm that the package was a misdirect, he went to the rooftop, fists clenched and ready to defend his Robin. The sight of the Joker and Red Hood hogtied with grapple wire was not what he had expected. Only years of expert training kept Batman from displaying his confusion, but he almost slipped and showed his relief when his eyes landed on Robin. His partner sat on an AC unit nearby, a quick glance over didn’t reveal any major injuries, maybe some bruising on his cheek that was already clearing. Robin didn’t move towards him, just sat and watched as Batman walked towards him.

        “Are you okay?” Robin wasn’t the best of keeping track of his injuries, so the nod he gave didn’t ease Batman’s concern. But just asking Robin was good practice for the boy to observe what his body needed.

        “He’s fine.” Red Hood grumbled from where he was tied on the ground.

        Batman glared at Red Hood, at the man his son had become. His eyes landed on the guns that were unloaded and disassembled next Robin, and he looked back over to Red Hood. This time felt more like an accusation than the regular contempt that Tim was familiar with.

“You can’t honestly believe that I would try to hurt him?” Even with all the family resentment that grew a little more potent every day he still felt something for the kid, something hard to place and abstract. Whatever he felt wasn’t easy to pull dissect in his mind, and there wasn’t anybody around in the single bedroom apartment that he was squatting in. So, Tim decided there were better tasks to focus on than whatever mess his family relationships had become.

“What are you doing here, Red Hood?” Batman asked with a bite in his tone that Time was used to hearing by now.

“’You’re welcome for the rescue, Red.’” Tim said with a deep growl that mimicked Batman’s before responding in a peppy voice--- not unlike the one he used as Robin. “Don’t worry about, I live to serve.”

“He can handle himself,” Batman said as Tim wondered how anyone thought that Superman was the sanctimonious one.

“That’s a great policy against that lunatic. Must have been why he was seconds away from cutting the kids throat.” Tim smirked when he saw a little twitch of a frown on Batman’s face. Finally, a reaction. “Don’t feel that you’re still three-out-of-four on Robin’s you’ve failed. Now, I never got the chance to finish high school, but if I’m not mistaken that’s still a passing grade.”

Batman had turned his attention to Robin during Tim’s jab, but the Boy Wonder looked anywhere but the white lenses of the cowl. The bravado dropped for a minute, and Batman went over to Tim and cut him loose.

“Thanks, Old man. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there’s a gang war that needs my attention and thanks to the kid I have to go find some new weapons.”

Tim turned to leave him, but a strong hand grabbed his bicep.

“Red Hood,” Batman’s voice had that weird softness to it that Tim remembered from nights when he had fallen asleep in front of the computer, waiting for his dad to come home.

Every muscle in Tim’s body tensed on contact. He hated those memories and the way they made his gut twist and his trigger finger twitch. The only thing that kept him from ripping his arm out of his father’s grasp was a genuine curiosity of what Batman was going to say.

“Leave the Joker to us.” The Bat said. “Next time, I will have you arrested.”

Typical.

“Yeah, good seeing you too, Old Man.” Tim was about to leave when he stopped and looked at his little brother. “You are okay, right?”

Robin hid his confusion well, but Tim knew he wasn’t expecting any kind of interaction from how long it took him to nod. Tim thought that he may have seen a smile on the kid’s lips, but he called it a trick of the light and shot of his grapple to carry him away.

He was a twisting hurricane of emotions that only got more intense when he ran into Batman and Robin. Nightwing always acted entitled enough when Tim was a child that he could cut himself off and feel little for the loss of their relationship. He didn’t run into Bluejay much--- even after his brother moved back to Gotham--- and their mutual frustrations made up for the tension that had existed when Jason had first taken the title of Robin from him.

Batman and Robin were different. They were a mirror of a happier time, but a cracked and splintered one. Batman was colder now. Thought he had pulled himself together for the de--taloned bird. That ruthlessness only seemed to come back when Batman had to face what Tim had done, the failure he had become.

Tim couldn’t deal with this. He didn’t have the tools to even begin. What he did have was a utility belt and a semi-automatic at ‘home’ that called him. He had the city that killed his blood father and destroyed Tim in so many new and interesting ways. That seemed a good a place as any to start.

Batman, Robin, Bluejay, and Spoiler brought the Joker to Arkham, along with all the Laughing Widows that they could capture. Bluejay didn’t stick around and said something about staying in Jump City for the night, and Spoiler stormed off after hearing how Bruce treated Red Hood. This left Batman and Robin returning home to an almost empty Man. They showered without a word, and the silence was only broken when Bruce caught Dick in an attempt to sneak upstairs.

“Not so fast, chum. You know the drill.”

Dick threw his head back in a dramatic fashion that let Bruce know that not all the performing instincts had been removed from his ward. They went to the Med Bay, where Bruce pulled on a pair of latex gloves as Dick climbed on one of the many cots. Dick pulled off the Gotham Academy sweater--- one that Bruce recognized from Damian’s wardrobe--- with practiced ease.

Bruce got to work testing Dick’s range of motion--- each of his movements televised and in the same order that they always occurred. His ward seemed to be telling the truth when he said that he had no injuries. The light bruising that had been on his jaw was already a pale yellow and would be gone by morning. Physically, his son was okay, but there was something brewing behind his blue eyes.

“That was the first time you faced the Joker in a while. How are you doing?”

Dick shrugged, and other than that motion he seemed indifferent to the events of the night.

All of Bruce’s children had run-ins with the Joker, they ranged from disturbing to unspeakable in their horror. The encounters left his own stomach turning on the best night. He had expected that Dick would be immune to the horrors of the Joker after the trauma he had experienced at the hands of the Court. But the madman had his way of ruining minds. He frustrated Damian, drove Tim to extremes, angered Jason, and, somehow, managed to make Dick wake up in a cold sweat.

His ward would never admit his fear; he didn’t know how. Bruce would worry more if Dick wasn’t so good at bouncing back from the horrific encounters with the Joker. His unshakable optimism was a mystery to Bruce and catnip for the Joker. Maybe he shouldn’t have Robin out tonight, even if it was assumed to be a punishment. Better to be upset for a while then face another criminal intent on destroying his already corrupted innocence. Bruce wondered if Dick would listen to him, or if that would be the last straw. Dick had been a rule-breaker in the beginning, and Bruce was waiting for the day that his ward’s rebellious streak came back.

He would need to consult with the others before any decisions were made about Dick being allowed to confront the Joker. In the meantime, he chose to focus on the nasty bruise that he found on Dick’s shoulder blade.

“I see your nightly activities went smoothly,” Alfred commented on the lack of gaping wounds as he entered the Med Bay with a tray that carried two hot chocolates. “How are you feeling, Master Dick?”

Dick took his mug and held out a thumb up.

“Then there’s cause for celebration. How does blueberry pancakes for breakfast sound?”

Dick beamed at his grandfather that knew that Dick’s all-time favorite was blueberry pancakes.

“Of course, I don’t believe those pancakes would take nearly as delicious when the person eating them is sleep deprived. I shudder to think that any blueberry pancakes might go to waste.” Alfred put all of his Shakespearean training into his performance.

Dick’s sense of theater still needed working on as he was soon staring wide-eyed and worried at Alfred.

“A jest, my lad. However, I must insist you make up for last night with at least eight hours of rest.”

Dick considered, but he soon nodded in agreement.

“Why don’t you head up, chum,” Bruce said, snapping off the gloves and throwing them away. “I’ll join you in a few minutes to lock up the Manor.”

He nodded once, put the sweater back on, and jumped off the table.

Once they were out of his exceptional earshot, Bruce deflated with a curse.

“I take it capturing the Joker did not go as well as I had originally thought,” Alfred said handed Bruce his hot chocolate.

“He separated us, and somehow got the upper hand on Dick.” Bruce took a long drink from his hot chocolate and hoped it would soothe his nerves like the drink had when he was a scared child. “Red Hood was there too.”

Alfred looked down. “I see. How was Master Tim, did he look healthy?”

“He did, just pissed at me for the most part.”

“So, I see nothing has changed.”

“Maybe,” Bruce said. “He saved Dick”

“They were always close.” Alfred smiled as fond memories of laughter from happier times played in his mind.

“yeah, they were.” Bruce meant to say more, as he always did. He had a bad habit of only speaking his mind when it wasn’t necessary or wanted. “I should get up there to him.”

“Best not to leave the lad waiting,” Alfred said, and only when Bruce was near the stairs did he call to him. “Be sure to get some rest yourself, Master Bruce. I would hate if your pancake experience was anything less than sublime.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched in the small smile that he had gotten so good at over the years. He then headed up stone stairs and left Alfred alone as the butler pulled a picture from his breast pocket. It was old, two long creases in it from being folded for years. The photo stayed with him always. The only remaining photo of Timothy Drake that remained outside of the Manor’s attic. He smiled and held on to that sweet sound of laughter for just a little longer before folding the photo and putting it away again.

[camsthisky]

A War Inside My Head

ao3 | ff.net

Thanks to @tantalum-cobalt and @chimaerakitten for looking this over. I didn’t change much but the things you pointed out, so thanks for taking the time to beta! I really appreciate it!

“What if I poke him?” someone murmurs.

“If you do that, he’s going to hit you,” someone else says.

“He wouldn’t hit me. It’s Dick.” The first voice pauses. “And besides, he’d totally poke me, too.”

“No, I’d do it to you. Or Damian, or Steph. But not Dick.”

“Yes, Todd,” a new voice chimes in, though it sounds reluctant. “Grayson would most likely dote on the sight of you drooling on your pillow.”

Someone snickers. “Oh my God. Now I can’t stop picturing it.”

“Shut it if you know what’s good for you, Damian. You, too, Tim.”

The voices are invading his dreams, Dick realizes. He can’t match voices to names or faces, but they sound familiar enough that Dick figures he’s not in any danger. And honestly, Dick’s tired enough to sleep for days.

He just wishes the voices would get the memo.

Someone tuts. “Like you could take me down.”

“I will shoot you.”

“Leave him alone, Jay.”

“And what’s up with that? Since when are you on the Demon Brat’s side?”

“Since he stopped Bruce from throwing out all of my coffee.”

“What—do I even want to know?”

“I thought it might be a fruitful investment. I turned out to be correct.”

Dick forces his eyes open, and he blinks blearily up at the trio standing in the middle of the living room, just inches away from the couch Dick had collapsed on when he’d gotten back to the Manor earlier. None of them are looking at him, and while they’re all being relatively quiet, it isn’t quiet enough for Dick. He’s tired, and as much as he’d normally love for his little brothers to be in the same room and talking and not killing each other, now is kind of a bad time.

He just wants to sleep, preferably without any little brothers interrupting his first rest in over 48 hours.

“If you’re gonna talk, do it somewhere else,” Dick tells them, half his face smooshed against a couch pillow, slightly muffling his slurred words. “‘M tryna sleep.”

Jason doesn’t miss a beat. “Then why aren’t you in your bed, Goldie? The couch isn’t exactly the best place to crash.”

“Wasn’t gonna make it,” Dick murmurs, eyes sliding closed.

It’s quiet long enough that Dick is able to slip back into a doze, and he can almost convince himself that Jason, Tim and Damian have left the room with use of bat-training. Except, he can still feel their eyes on him, and it’s annoying.

Dick makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat, and without opening his eyes again, asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Tim says, but it’s too quick. “Just—what did you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“When you said you wouldn’t make it to your bed.”

Dick sighs, and pushes himself up on his elbow. They’re still huddled, but they look more concerned than amused now—well. Tim does. Damian looks indifferent, but that’s just his usual I’m-interested-and-worried-but-I’ll-never-admit-it expression, so Dick counts it. Jason just looks...odd.

Yeahhhh, Dick’s not touching that look with a ten-foot pole. Moving on.

“I’ve been working a case,” Dick says. “I just finished an’ I’m tired, so if you want me off this couch you’re gonna hafta carry me, ‘cause I’m not moving.”

Tim frowns. “What case?”

“And why wasn’t I involved?” Damian asks, arms crossing over his chest.

Jason doesn’t say anything.

Dick sighs. “A drug dealer made it big in Blüdhaven and worked his way to Gotham, but I didn’t realize he was coming here until I was just about to bust him. Besides, all of you have been busy.”

At least, that’s what they’d told him when he’d requested a movie night the day before he started tailing the guy.

“How long were you after this guy?” Jason sounds interested, which is, again, odd. Jason doesn’t usually care what Nightwing does as long as he stays out of Red Hood’s way. Which Dick had. Or maybe Jason’s just interested in the guy because he’s a drug dealer in Gotham. It seems like the sort of thing Jason would get worked up about, given that at some point Jason had his hands on half of Gotham’s criminal underbelly.

“I was tailing him for two days,” Dick tells him. “And I took him down—” a glance at the clock, “—about two hours ago. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to sleep.”

Dick collapses back on the couch again, ready to drift back to sleep. Hopefully now that their curiosity is satisfied, his little brothers will go away and be nice to each other.

Unfortunately, his brothers have other ideas. They start murmuring to each other, like they think Dick can’t hear him. He’s right here, though, and yes. He can hear every word they’re saying to each other.

“Should we tell him?” Tim asks. He sounds conflicted.

“He’s sleep deprived,” Jason says. “Mr. happy-go-lucky is grumpier than I’ve ever seen him.”

“It’s only two days,” Tim argues. “I’ve gone longer.”

Damian scoffs. “Yes, well he’s not you, Drake.”

“He’s going to find out the moment he turns on the news, anyways.”

“Y’know I can hear you, right?” Dick asks, but then he sighs, cracking his eyes open again. “Why’re you guys even here?”

Tim hesitates, but when Jason and Damian aren’t forthcoming, his shoulders droop. “It’s, uh. There’s been a breakout out from Arkham, and Bruce wants all hands on deck.”

Dick’s rolling off the couch and onto his feet before Tim’s even finished talking. He runs his hand down his face and blinks rapidly trying to get his bearings. Going from lying to standing in two seconds hadn’t been the smartest idea. “Just give me a sec,” Dick tells them.

Tim looks unsure. “Dick—”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Dickiebird,” Jason says, pushing him back down to sit on the couch. Dick can’t seem to put up much resistance, so he goes down compliantly. “We can handle this.”

Dick frowns. “But Bruce said-”

“Bruce also doesn’t know you’re running on fumes,” Tim counters.

“Contrary to what you think, we can handle this without you, Grayson,” Damian says. “Sleep.”

“Wow,” Tim says, and his eyes are wide and completely mocking. Looks like the coffee saving has been forgotten. “That almost sounded like you care.”

“Nonsense,” Damian sniffs. “Grayson would just be a hindrance, is all.”

Dick knows that Damian’s just covering for what he thinks is weakness, but Dick also knows that Damian’s right. After spending the past two days tailing his drug dealer with hardly any sleep, Dick’s worn out. He wouldn’t be at the top of his game, and he’d be sloppy. More than likely, he’d get seriously injured and someone would have to bail him out.

“Right,” Dick says. “You guys go then. I’ll stay and keep Alfie company.”

Jason huffs out a laugh that says that he doesn’t quite believe Dick. “Right, sure. How about this. You stay here, make sure we don’t have to save your ass, and tomorrow night, after we finish clean up, maybe we can have that movie night you wanted.”

“I want to pick the movie,” Damian says immediately, a scowl across his face again. “I refuse to be subjected to another Disney movie. Or another documentary.”

Tim shoots Damian a nasty look. “That was one time.”

Dick laughs quietly, his lips quirking up in a smile. “That sounds nice, Jay. Promise I won’t run off.”

A chime sounds, and Tim pulls out his phone. “Uh oh. B’s down in the Cave, and he’s not happy.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Is he ever?” Jason asks. “I swear, there’s a stick up Bruce’s ass, and nothing anyone does is going to get it out of there.”

Damian tuts again. “Todd, have a little more respect.”

“For who? Bruce? You’re kidding, right?”

Damian sweeps out of the room, and Jason follows him, their argument fading into indistinct murmurs as they head towards Bruce’s study. Tim, though. Tim stays, and he turns to Dick. He looks a little hesitant, but not in a bad way, so Dick waits until Tim’s figured out what he needs to say.

“You’re going to stay, right?”

Dick nods. “I’ll stay. I won’t be much use to you out there.”

“You know, we were worried.”

“About me?”

Tim hums an affirmative. “You’ve been working a lot of cases without us.”

Dick smiles. It’s weary, but genuine. “I’m okay, Tim.” And he is. There has just been a lot for him to do, the same way that Bruce and Tim have both been frantically trying to keep up with everything. “You should go. They’re going to need you.”

“Sure,” Tim says easily, though his eyes tell Dick that this conversation is far from over. “I’ll see you when I get back. Make sure you get some rest.”

Dick waves as Tim exits the room, calling a “Stay safe!” after him.

And then it’s just Dick sitting on a couch, and he’s suddenly very, very awake. Even if he can’t put on his uniform, he still wants to help out. He’ll find Alfred, and he’ll wait for everyone to come back home, safe and sound. And after that, he’ll sleep.

“Do you think he’s actually going to stay?” Stephanie asks as she adjusts her cowl, looking over to where Tim’s fiddling with his bandoliers. “He can be really stubborn when he wants to.”

“He’ll stay,” Tim says quietly. “I think he’s knows that he isn’t up for this.”

“If you say so,” Stephanie says, wishing that she could feel as sure as Tim does.

Bruce enters, cowl up, and it’s all business. “Let’s go,” Batman growls, and then they’re all off, ready to beat in some bad guys’ faces, and Stephanie forces herself to forget about Dick Grayson being too tired to force himself to save the day, to pretend like it’s not going to eat her up inside.

Dick doesn’t even last an hour before he falls asleep again, this time in Bruce’s computer chair.

But even if he’s sleeping, it’s not peaceful. His head feels heavy. There’s a buzz in the back of his mind, and his skull is thumping with every beat of his heart. All in all, a very miserable existence. He wonders if it’s from the sleep deprivation or if this is something entirely different. Maybe he’s getting sick.

“Master Richard?” Alfred calls, prodding Dick back into wakefulness, just like he used to when Dick was a kid waiting for Batman to get back after a particularly nasty nightmare. “Are you sure you would not be more comfortable in your own bed?”

“‘M fine, Alfie,” Dick tells him. “I wanna wait for Bruce an’ the others to get back.”

Alfred looks troubled, but he doesn’t argue. “If you are sure.”

Alfred leaves, off to clean and worry, and worry and clean, and maybe find some time to cook in between, just like he always does whenever anyone goes out ever. But it’s especially hard for him on nights like this, where everyone’s called out into the night, and Dick finds himself in the exact same position.

He hates it, and he can’t understand how Alfred’s managed to do it night after night for so many years. Dick would die from worry alone.

Dick falls asleep—again—to those thoughts, and the next time he wakes up, he’s being shaken, worried blue eyes staring down at him from Bruce Wayne’s face—he’s still in costume, but sans cowl. Bruce’s hand comes out of nowhere and sweeps his hair out of his face. Dick can’t help but lean into the touch.

“Dick,” Bruce whispers. “Bed time.”

“‘S everyone okay?”

“Tim has a scratch on his cheek, and Jason hit his funny bone accidentally when he elbowed a guy in the face.”

“That’s it?” Dick asks.

“That’s it,” Bruce confirms. “No one’s hurt, Dick, so go to sleep.”

Dick scrunches up his face. “I was asleep.”

“Bed,” Bruce orders, but it’s gentle. Nothing like his orders in costume, that’s for sure. There’s this undertone of worry, but Dick still can’t force himself to disobey—he wonders what that says about him. “Now.”

Dick hums in agreement. “That sounds nice,” Dick sighs, his eyes drooping shut. “But I dunno if I can get there by myself.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Bruce is in front of him again, freshly showered and dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. Dick wonders how long he’d actually closed his eyes for, because it felt like seconds. Definitely not long enough for Bruce to get out of the costume, scrub himself down, and throw some clothes on.

Then Bruce is levering him up, throwing Dick’s arm around his shoulder, until Dick’s standing, dead weight against Bruce’s mass. Bruce practically drags him up the stairs and to his bedroom, and Dick thinks he should probably help somewhat, but his feet have decided that they don’t work anymore, because he can’t seem to get them underneath him.

Bruce only stops once they reach Dick’s bedroom. Dick’s still more asleep than awake when his face hits his pillow, and by the time he realizes that Bruce is trying to get Dick underneath the blanket, he’s too far gone to care.

Dick passes out before Bruce even finishes tucking him in.

Everyone’s relieved that Dick doesn’t sneak out of the Cave, but they’re also really worried. Tim, though, he’s not sure what to make of this situation. Because it isn’t supposed to be Dick that’s forced to stay behind because he’s too tired. That’s usually Tim’s job.

But after seeing how tired Dick was the night before, Tim’s not surprised that Dick’s not at breakfast the next morning. He worries his bottom lip, thinking about how Dick got so tired in the first place.

Jason shoots him a look from across the dining table, one that says he knows exactly what Tim’s thinking, and that he better knock it off. Well, tough. Jason might like to pretend that he isn’t attached to this mess that’s their family, but Tim accepted it a long time ago. There’s no point in denying it now.

Damian comes in as Alfred is placing down a plate of omelets in front of Tim. The kid takes note of the people in the room—just Tim, Jason, Alfred—and sniffs in what everybody but Dick would call disdain (Dick would call it concern, but Tim just can’t see it).

“Where is Grayson?” Damian asks, settling in a few chairs down from Jason.

Jason stabs a pancake with his fork. “Sleeping.”

Damian scowls. “Still?”

“He was dead tired,” Tim points out, frowning. “And I saw Bruce dragging him to bed after we all came home. I was going to check on him after breakfast.” He lets Alfred top off his orange juice. “Thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred smiles. “You’re quite welcome, Master Timothy. As for Master Richard, give him a few more hours to sleep off his exhaustion. From what I understand, he’s been under quite a bit of stress lately. He could use the rest.”

Tim frowns harder, Damian does that weird pouting-scowling thing he does whenever he’s worried about Dick, and Jason sighs into his hands. If Bruce were here, he’d be brooding over Alfred’s words, wondering just how much time he should give Dick before he went and sounded the alarm bells.

But that’s Bruce, and while Tim is more than capable of waiting two or three hours before checking in on his brother, he doesn’t really want to. He wonders if it would be so wrong to check on Dick now, and if he’s still in bed, Tim doesn’t really see the harm in slipping under the covers and spending a day lazing about. God knows he deserves it.

So Tim says, “Sure, Alfred,” and makes a mental note to check on Dick right after he finishes his breakfast, ignoring the disbelieving snort from Jason and the knowing look from Damian. He knows that Alfred probably knows that he’s lying, but the butler doesn’t call him out on it, so he’s pretty much in the clear.

They’re all worried, and Dick sleeping isn’t going to deter Tim from checking on him.

Now, to finish this omelet.

Dick’s dreams don’t quite make sense, even with dream logic intact.

He’s not Nightwing, he’s Batman again, the weight of the cape and the cowl and the world sitting on his shoulders. A weight Bruce seems to hold up so easily. A weight that Dick never quite could. But it’s back, and it’s heavy. That’s not the part that doesn’t make sense though.

What he doesn’t get is why there are three Robins, now. Damian and Tim, he gets, but Jason’s put the costume back on, too, and that doesn’t sit well with Dick at all. He doesn’t know why, but it feels wrong.

All the same, he accepts the burden. He accepts the weight of the cape pulling him down deeper into the abyss, the responsibility of watching out for Robin—the Robins—and making sure that they don’t have to do what he made sure Robin was for all those years ago. Bruce isn’t under the cowl, and Dick won’t ask of them the same Bruce asked of him.

They aren’t fighting anybody, but Dick’s covered in blood, and he doesn’t understand why. They’re in the Cave, haven’t left, but Jason and Tim and Damian—all thirteen years old—are looking at Dick like he just killed a man.

And then Bruce is holding Dick’s face between his blood-slicked hands, and Dick’s not sure what’s happening. He just knows that somehow, somehow, it’s his fault.

Bruce pulls back his lips and snarls, telling Dick, “You did this to me. You did this to them,” and over Bruce’s shoulder are Jason and Tim and Damian looking at him like he’s just killed a man, because he did. He killed a man and three kids, and it’s his fault. All his fault.

He’s covered in blood. All five of them are covered in blood, but only four out of five of them are bleeding heavily from bullet holes all over their bodies. And it’s Dick that’s holding a gun. Bruce grips Dick’s face harder. Dick shoots. Again and again and again, and he’s afraid.

And then it replays all over again.

Dick kills his family six times over before he turns the gun on himself.

“Did you know he had a fever?” Damian demands, stomping into Bruce’s study. He looks absolutely thunderous, and Bruce honestly doesn’t blame him, because there’s that clenching in his own gut that’s only there when one of his kids are hurt or ill. When Bruce doesn’t answer, Damian takes another step closer. “Did you know.”

Bruce sighs, dropping his pen and leaning back in his chair. “He was warm last night when I checked on him, but Alfred told me it spiked this morning.”

Damian’s quiet for a moment, staring at the floor. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce admits. “But I’m trying to find out.”

In the end, Dick sleeps almost 13 hours (a few spent with different siblings slipping under the blankets with him, he’ll find out later), and a glance out the window to see the sun streaming through tells him that it’s sometime in the afternoon by the time Dick finally shakes off the remains of unconsciousness.

Barely.

He’s still unbelievably tired, and he really doesn’t want to get up. In fact, it’d just be so much easier to fall back into slumber, and Dick’s eyes fall shut again without his express permission. Before he knows it, he’s dozing.

“Dick,” Bruce whispers, startling Dick into opening his eyes again, and he blinks up at Bruce. It’s déjà vu, Dick thinks, because he thinks that they’ve done this dance once before—only Dick had had a lot less sleep then, because there’d been a lot more confusion.

“Bruce?” Dick croaks, squinting up at his dad. “What’re you doin’ in here?”

“It’s time to get up. You need to eat something.”

Dick frowns, and tries to think through the sleepy haze still clouding his brain. “I don’t think I’m hungry. I had a weird dream and I think it’s making me sick.”

“I still want you to try.”

“There were three Robins,” Dick says, because for some reason he needs Bruce to understand.

Bruce has gone from soft and gentle to unhappy, almost in an instant, and Dick wonders if it was something he’d said. “Dick,” Bruce says, his voice taking on a harsher edge. “You need to eat. If you don’t, I’m going to call Leslie.”

Well, Dick isn’t sure of a lot of things right now, but he’s sure he doesn’t want that. So he levers himself up and blinks against the black dots dancing in front of his eyes. Lots of blinking today, it seems. “I’ll eat,” he tells Bruce. “Don’t call Leslie.”

“Good,” Bruce says, his voice soft again. He grabs a bowl of soup from the tray sitting on Dick’s bedside table and hands it to Dick. He takes the bow from Bruce with shaking hands, but he manages to get more than five bites into his mouth before the urge to vomit hits.

Dick drops the spoon into the bowl. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he whispers.

Bruce is quick. He grabs the bowl, sets it down, and grips Dick’s bicep all within a second, and then he’s pulling Dick to his stumbling feet and leading him to the private bathroom in his room. Dick’s in front of the toilet retching into the bowl seconds later, his stomach spasming painfully.

The entire time, Bruce is there. Rubbing his back, running his fingers through Dick’s hair, keeping up quiet murmuring that Dick can’t really pay attention to right now. It’s comforting, and Dick’s exhausted enough that the eating and the retching are enough to have him leaning his sweaty face against the cool porcelain of the bathtub beside him.

“I don’t feel good,” Dick mutters, because he’s not sure what else to say. He just wants to feel good again. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Stress,” Bruce tells him, his fingers brushing his damp hair away from his face. “You’re stressed out, and your body couldn’t handle it.”

“I’ve been stressed before and it’s never been like this.”

“Your immune system’s weaker because you haven’t been sleeping, Dick. You’ve been running yourself into the ground, and now it’s biting you in the ass.”

“Language.”

“I don’t think I need a lecture on cursing from you of all people,” Bruce says, his voice light and teasing and gentle in a way it hasn’t been in so, so long. Since before Jason, maybe. Or maybe before that, even. It wasn’t like Dick and Bruce had really been on speaking terms when Jason came into their lives, after all.

Dick swallows back the tears threatening to prick at his eyes. “I’m tired, Bruce.”

“I know,” is all Bruce says, and they stay in the bathroom like that for a really long time.

Damian slips into Grayson’s bedroom that evening, and he stops cold. Because Father is lying there on the bed, Grayson curled up into his side, fast asleep, and Damian thinks that maybe he should back up and leave before he interrupts an intimate moment between his father and his oldest brother.

But Father catches him before he can go anywhere, and Damian walks towards the bed reluctantly at his father’s nod.

Damian’s gaze flicks to Grayson and before he can really process the fact that he’s saying anything, Damian asks, “Is he alright?”

Father sighs. “It’s stress. He’s doing better, but Alfred says it’ll probably be another day of sleeping off exhaustion.”

Damian nods, and then hesitates again before asking, “Would it be alright it…?”

“Come here, Damian,” Father says, and he lifts up his other arm, the one not wrapped around Grayson, and Damian takes the offer before it can be rescinded. They stay like that for a while, and Damian can’t find it in him to be humiliated about the position.

When Dick wakes up again, it takes him a moment to understand why he’s so warm. Burning almost. He’s settled against someone’s—Bruce’s—chest, and both his and Bruce’s body heat underneath the covers is almost too much to bear, and it—it’s not something Dick can really comprehend. Because Dick’s curled up next to Bruce plenty of times before, and never before has it been this hot.

“Stop squirming,” Bruce says out of the blue, his voice rumbling in his chest underneath Dick’s cheek, and Dick’s even more confused. Because he isn’t even moving. But then Bruce speaks up again, exasperation clear in his voice, “Damian. Stop.”

“Tell Drake to keep away from me, then,” Damian sneers. “He keeps elbowing me.”

“I wouldn’t if you would stop taking up so much of the bed,” Tim hisses, and there’s a commotion from the other side of the bed that Dick can only really listen to. He’s too tired to raise his head, and he’d had that unsettling dream once again.

It’s almost like feels like there’s something crawling beneath his skin, something heavy weighing down both his body and his mind.

“Shut up,” a new voice says, but this one is from farther away. It’s Jason, and Dick thinks he sounds like he’s sitting at the desk in the corner of his bedroom. “You’re gonna wake Dick up.”

“You’re going to wake Dick up,” Tim shoots back, but there’s no heat behind the words.

“You’re all too late,” Bruce says, amusement in his voice, and Dick finally raises his head to see Bruce looking down at him eyebrow raised. “Good morning, Dick.”

“It’s eleven pm,” Tim protests from somewhere on the other side of Bruce.

Bruce hums but he doesn’t correct himself. Instead he just squeezes Dick a little closer to his comfort and Dick lays his head back down on his dad’s chest, feeling a sudden urge to cry. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s surrounded by his family or if it’s because he’s still feeling sick, but the tears prick at his eyes nevertheless.

“Is he actually awake this time?” Damian asks, sounding skeptical.

“Will all of you be quiet?” Steph cries from somewhere beyond the bed and on the floor. “Me and Cass are trying to sleep.”

Jason snorts. “You’re playing Go Fish.”

There’s silence after that besides a little bit of muffled laughter from Cass, but for the most part the room goes quiet, and Dick feels himself start to relax under Bruce’s hand rubbing up and down his back.

“Go back to sleep, Dick,” Bruce says quietly. “We’ll all be here when you wake up again.”

And Dick, well. He believes Bruce. He relaxes fully, that something underneath his skin settling down for the moment with the knowledge of his family surrounding him, some of them not even an arm’s length away.

Dick falls asleep, and when he wakes up again, it’s to Bruce holding him. To Jason sneaking him worried glances from over by the desk. To Tim crawling from one side of the bed in order to lie on Dick’s other side. To Damian hiding concern behind raised hackles and cruel words only directed towards Tim and Jason and Steph. To Stephanie cracking lame jokes with a full belly laugh. To Cass sitting at the end of the bed resting a comforting hand on his blanket covered foot. To Alfred opening up the door and serving them all breakfast up in Dick’s room.

They’re all here, and Dick, even if he doesn’t feel ready to shake off his exhaustion and sickness and face the world yet, feels safe with his family surrounding him.

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1293

Monday, December 23, 2019

 I'll be working at Comet Comics today which is a good thing because I won't be around all the Christmas goodies at home. Home made cookies and party mix won't be tempting me. I wish you all a Very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. I hope you didn't spend too much. Try not to eat too much. Try to over spread the love and joy of the season.

 Batman #85 - Tom King (writer) Mikel Janin (art) Hugo Petrus (art pages 10-12) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). A very satisfying end to "City of Bane". I liked how Tom left Bruce and Selina. Gotham Girl also gets a nice boost. The 3-page epilogue by James Tynion IV (writer) Guillem March (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) & Clayton Cowles (letters) made me think that the future of this title is going to be okay after the departure of Tom King.

 Once & Future #5 - Kieron Gillen (writer) Dan Mora (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Ed Dukeshire (letters). Duncan is Percival in this story and he's about to get a very powerful weapon to fight the bad knights. I hope his granny doesn't die.

 Legion of Super-Heroes #2 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Ryan Sook (pencils) Wade von Grawbadger (inks) & Ryan Sook (inks pages 11-13) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). One reason that I don't read a lot of super hero team books is because some writers make it very difficult to keep track of everybody on the team and what they're doing. I fear this might happen with this book because there are so many Legionnaires. I like the introduction of Jonathan Kent to the team and him getting a new recruit at the end of this issue made me go "yay". I'm going to stick with this for at least another issue.

 Runaways #28 - Rainbow Rowell (writer) Andre Genolet (art) Dee Cunniffe (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The benevolent Doc Justice isn't as pure goodie two-shoes as he claims. His gnarly plans for the Runaways start to be revealed this issue.

 Batman Superman #5 - Joshua Williamson (writer) David Marquez (art) Alejandro Sanchez (colours) John J. Hill (letters). Can Batman and Superman get past the Secret Six to destroy the tower and satellite that will bring the Dark Multiverse to our world? Hey, they don't call them the World's Finest for nothing. Of course, keeping the Batman Who Laugh's attack secret is going to have consequences. I want to see how Wonder Woman reacts to the boys leaving her in the dark.

 Gwenpool Strikes Back #5 - Leah Williams (writer) David Baldeon (art) Jesus Aburtov & Guru-eFX (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Leah sold me on this self aware comic book character so the next time she writes a Gwenpool story I'll be there.

 Catwoman #18 - Joelle Jones (writer) Joelle Jones (art pages 1-3, 10-11, 16-20) Fernando Blanco (art pages 4-9, 12-15) Laura Allred (colours pages 1-7, 10-11, 16-20) FCO Plascencia (colours pages 8-9, 12-15) Saida Temofonte (letters). This was fun. I didn't know that Catwoman and Zatanna were such good friends. Selina gets a little magical help to fight the creepy Raina Creel. I can't wait to see how it works.

 King Thor #4 - Jason Aaron (writer) Esad Ribic (main artist) Ive Svorcina (main colour artist) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). That's all he wrote folks. Jason Aaron wraps up his Thor run in this epic $5.99 US issue. I can't think of anyone who's better at chronicling a god's adventures than him. The list of contributing art teams to this mighty tome is too vast to include here. Suffice it to say that everyone did an awesome job illustrating this finale.

 Avengers #28 - Jason Aaron (writer) Ed McGuinness (pencils) Mark Morales (inks) Jason Keith & Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Part 2 of "Starbrand Reborn" has Silver Surfer Black, Terrax, and Firelord teaming up to hunt the new Starbrand. The three ex-heralds of Galactus only hang around for 2 pages before Silver Surfer leaves them in his dust to go after Ghost Rider's ride. A lot happens this issue so pay attention. It looks like whoever has the Starbrand might be a bad guy. I hope we don't have to wait too much longer to find out who that is.

 The Amazing Spider-Man #36 - Nick Spencer (writer) Oscar Bazaldua (art) Steve Firchow (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). I didn't read 2099 Omega #1 before this issue so it's very confusing what's happening with Spider-Man and Doctor Doom. I find this kind of tight tie-in very annoying. Bottom line is that Peter doesn't die and Doc Doom goes home to Latveria. The evil Countess's goal of starting a war between Symkaria and Latveria has been achieved. Meanwhile, Chameleon hints at future intrigues. A little incentive to keep reading this title.

 Fallen Angels #4 - Bryan Hill (writer) Szymon Kudranski (art) Frank D'Armata (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). The team's mission to save children succeeds but there are casualties on the good guys' side. We also meet the bad guy and find out what connection it has with Psylocke. This title appeals to me because of the science involved. I think you need at least a university degree to appreciate the whole thing.

 Daredevil #15 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Marco Checchetto & Francesco Mobili (art) Nolan Woodard & Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I can't believe that Wilson Fisk has finally met his match when it comes to being a ruthless criminal. Seeing the Stromwyn siblings in action during their meeting with the Mayor of New York City made me cheer for poor old Kingpin. Meanwhile Matt and Elektra get hot under the collar on a mission to find out who ordered the police to keep out of Hell's Kitchen. I'm so glad to see Elektra back on the racks.

 2099 Omega #1 - Nick Spencer (writer) Gerardo Sandoval & Ze Carlos (pencils) Gerardo Sandoval, Victor Nava & Ze Carlos (inks) Morry Hollowell, Brian Reber & Andrew Crossley (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). 2099 was the non-event of 2019. You could have skipped this entire story and be none the worse for wear. This issue didn't even answer any of the questions I had from reading The Amazing Spider-Man #36. The only thing this accomplished was possibly to set up the return of Miguel as Spider-Man 2099 somewhere down the line again. This has been the most useless Marvel story that I have ever read. If I was a paying Amazing Spider-Man fan I would be royally pissed.

 Suicide Squad #1 - Tom Taylor (writer) Bruno Redondo (art) Adriano Lucas (colours) Wes Abbott (letters). There's a changing of the guard as the new Squad gets upgraded with new recruits. The team is sent against some Social Justice Warriors called the Revolutionaries and lose some members in the fight. Tom's not messing around with the changes. Amanda Waller may be in this issue but she's only there to pass the reigns to a hard ass named Lok. I like Lok. I'm going to keep reading these.

 The Old Guard: Force Multiplied #1 - Greg Rucka (writer) Leandro Fernandez (art) Daniela Miwa (colours) Jodi Wynne (letters). Andy's back on the racks. I started to read this immortal woman's first story but had to abandon it due to the store only ordering subscription service copies. I should seek out the collected trade paperback and read that. I remember I liked what I read of the first story and I like this first issue. And if I don't get to read the rest, I can look forward to seeing the movie in 2020 with Charlize Theron as Andy. Charlize was terrific in Atomic Blonde.

 Annihilation - Scourge Omega #1 - Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Manuel Garcia (pencils) Rafael Fonteriz, Cam Smith, Wayne Faucher &  Manuel Garcia (inks) Federico Blee, Rachelle Rosenberg & Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). This ending was a lot better than 2099 Omega #1. Even though it was your typical "whole bunch of super heroes fighting a cosmic threat and winning because of a huge sacrifice", the story made sense. It still wasn't a story that was worth reading. The only thing I got out of it was seeing characters that I haven't seen on the racks in ages. Hello Speedball. If Marvel keeps shovelling this crap and stinking up the House of Ideas, they're going to lose more readers.

 Year of the Villain: The Infected - The Commissioner #1 - Paul Jenkins (writer) Jack Herbert (art) Adriano Lucas (colours) A Larger World's Troy Peteri (letters). James Gordon is now a minion for the Batman Who Laughs. With Batman helping Superman fight other infected super heroes, Gotham City is vulnerable after the Commissioner releases the inmates of Arkham Asylum. I'm hanging around this story to see how they cure everyone.

 The Low, Low Woods #1 - Carmen Maria Machado (writer) Dani (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Steve Wands (letters). This is the story of Octavia and Eldora, two teenage girlfriends living in a half abandoned coal mining town. The mines are closed and strange things happen. I liked these girls after reading this so I'm going to stick around to see what happens after one of them wakes up next to a dead body.

 Year of the Villain: Hell Arisen #1 - James Tynion IV (writer) Steve Epting (art) Nick Filardi (colours) Travis Lanham (letters). What a poetic title for this 4-issue mini which will end with us finally knowing how the Batman Who Laughs changes the DCU. I'm finding it difficult to get into this story since it doesn't impact a lot of the DC books that I read. I'm curious to see if that changes.

 Klaus and the Life & Times of Joe Christmas #1 - Grant Morrison (writer) Dan Mora (art). I was a little disappointed because this wasn't a traditional story in the sense of having words and pictures. Notice the absence of a letterer in the credits. What we have here are 25 days in December lovingly illustrated. Punch a hole in this issue and you can use it as a calendar.

 Basketful of Heads #3 - Joe Hill (writer) Leomacs (art) Dave Stewart (colours) Deron Bennett (letters). There's only one head in the basket so far but I think another one will join it soon. This is one weird story with a creepy fantasy twist and I like it. I can't wait to see what June does with the axe next.

 Batman Last Knight On Earth #3 - Scott Snyder (writer) Greg Capullo (pencils) Jonathan Glapion (inks) FCO Plascencia (colours) Tom Napolitano (letters). What a terrific finish. I love these kinds of Elseworld stories where the characters are tweaked so that they're new and yet familiar. The Joker's head was the star of this story.

 Marauders #4 - Gerry Duggan (writer) Lucas Werneck (art) Federico Blee (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). I've been undecided about continuing to read this series but the gorgeous Storm cover by Russell Dauterman (art) & Matthew Wilson (colours) made me grab this issue off the racks and now that I've read it I'll add this to my "must read" list. I like the spy element to this title. We've got the Hellfire Trading Company, ex-bad guys now doing good for the mutant community and this issue introduces the White members of the club, who are anti-mutant. Very intriguing.

 Doomsday Clock #12 - Geoff Johns (writer) Gary Frank (art) Brad Anderson (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). The long awaited appearance of Dr. Manhattan happens here. It took two years for this story to be told. A lot of it had me discombobulated because of the mash-up of different universes. This story boils down to Jon/Dr. Manhattan and Superman/Clark Kent figuring out how to save the Multiverse. The cool thing about Dr. Manhattan is that the possibilities are endless. I rarely read a comic book story more than once but I did read The Watchmen three times. The first was when the original 12-issue series came out. The second was when the story was collected in a graphic novel and the third just after Doomsday Clock was announced. I think you get a better appreciation for Doomsday Clock is you're familiar with the Watchmen. I am considering reading Doomsday Clock again when it's collected too mostly because I loved the art.

 Spider-Man #3 - J. J. Abrams & Henry Abrams (writers) Sara Pichelli (art) Elisabetta D'Amico (inking assistant) Dave Stewart (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). With Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man done and The Amazing Spider-Man and Miles Morales: Spider-Man eliciting mehs from me lately, this is now my number one Spider-Man book. I like how they're handling Ben's evolution after discovering his powers. Their use of Tony Stark and Riri Williams made me smile. The new super villain Cadaverous is very cool.

 Harleen #3 - Stjepan Sejic (writer & artist) Gabriela Downie (letters). Wow, what a great origin story for Harley Quinn. This is the best interpretation of the relationship between Harley and the Joker so far. The inclusion of Two-Face was a bonus.

 Wonder Woman: Dead Earth #1 - Daniel Warren Johnson (story & art) Mike Spicer (colours) Rus Wooton (letters). Wonder Woman is awakened in a post-apocalyptic world where the humans have to survive being overrun by monsters. All the super heroes are dead. Well, at least Batman's dead. She saves Camp New Hope (is this a Star Wars swipe?) from the monsters and decides she's going to lead everybody to, you guessed it, a new hope. I liked the surprise appearance of a frenemy and the story is a basic fight for your life journey. I don't think this deserved the larger $5.99 US DC Black format however. It would have sold better in the regular comic book sized format like the DC Black $3.99 US Low, Low Woods.