#like something would be put on the news about some crooked cop and jason would just stare at dick to the point of uncomfort

[neuro-psyche]

I like to think that when Jason was resurrected and was a part of the family again and what not, when he found out that Dick was a cop he would simply ignore him whenever work was brought up. Like full on, middle of conversation, would just get up and leave. It was infuriating! But Jason stood on BUSINESS.

Like Jason grew up in Crime Alley, and was a child criminal because that was just survival. There’s absolutely no way little baby Jason didn’t call a cop a pig at some point, right?

And of course he wouldn’t call his big brother a pig, but he made it very clear he didn’t approve of his career. When Dick quit the BPD, Jason made it a big deal. Bought a cake. Threw a party. It was a big deal to him, even if he had a shit-eating grin the entire time.

[klemen-tine]

Please Please Please (Mom! Reader x Batfam)

Don't prove I'm right~ I love that song so much. Anyways! Not extreme Yandere, but part 2 will have some. This is just the setting up for it. Also, while writing I won't lie, I forgot about Damien, so he will have a lot of showtime in the next part. FYI

TW: Cheating, slapping (Reader slaps Bruce), Reader also throws something at Bruce.

In now way do I condone partner violence. no matter how mad you get, you should never hit or throw something at your partner.

In case you have never heard this song before, first of all who are you? Secondly here is the link

@Rosecentury 

@Problematicreblogger

@Kurai-hono-blog 

@Lunaluz432

@testishere

Y/N had put her life on pause for Bruce and his hero complex. She is a top-model. A supermodel that is still being asked to do photoshoots, make guest appearances, and dominate the runway despite her time away from it. The strict workout regime was still her daily exercise, and she still was conscious of what she ate. Age had not affected her the way it has to some of her friends because Y/N lived to be a model. 

Yet, she had put that on the backburner for her husband and kids. She forced her attention onto the scarred and vibrant children that her traumatized husband brought in like strays. Y/N raised them, alongside Alfred. It’s because of them that their sons and daughters did not turn out as crooked as Bruce Wayne. A man that was full of jagged and sharp pieces, piercing the skin of whoever got close. 

E/C eyes rolled nearly out her socket, taking a sip of the morning coffee and waiting for her youngest to come down. She ignored the nervous glances being sent her way from her sons, and instead pulled out her phone to look for a familiar contact. 

“None of you have anything I need to be here for, do you?” Tim and Jason quickly shook their heads, and Dick gave a nervous smile, “Not really… although it would be nice if you stayed here though.” Y/N raised a delicate eyebrow, and a sharp smile formed on her lips as she pressed ‘call,’ “Ah, don’t worry Dickie, I’ll come back. I’m just going on a trip.” 

The person answered, and before they could start spewing curses, Y/N greeted them, “Hey, Jackie! It’s Y/N.” 

“Y-Y/N! What’s going on?” 

“Remember those gigs you were telling me about?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Book them.” The boys stood up while her manager on the other line sputtered in excitement, “Really?! Oh my gosh Y/N this is so exciting! Which ones do you want? I know you want to stay close to Gotham -heaven knows why- but I can find some in-” 

“All of them.” 

“...what?” 

“Book all of them.” Jackie hummed, “Some are out of the country though.” 

“Even better! Pack your bags Jackie, we are gonna be gone for a while. Bring Stella too, I’ll pay for both of your tickets and lodgings.” Jackie was stuttering, “The-the first gig in a week is Venice, Italy! Is that enough time for you to-” 

“Let's leave tonight.” 

“Tonight?!” Everyone screeched, and Y/N gave her sons an annoyed look, “Yes, tonight. Let's enjoy Venice like when we were young, and show Stella around. I’m sure the two of you could use a vacation anyways.” 

“....Y/N, is everything okay?” 

“Peachy. See you tonight.” Y/N hung up, and threw her phone on the opposite end of the couch, continuing to sip her cup of coffee as the news reporter continued to talk about Batman and his risky rendezvous with Catwoman. The perfect love story. 

The pursuer and the pursued. The cop and robber. Batman, the man of justice, and Catwoman, a thief. 

Her jaw clenched, and her fingers tightened around the handle of the mug. The air around her was full of jitters and Dick was basically vibrating with worry, Jason focused intensely on his phone, and Tim was drinking even more coffee. 

“Um, mom, are you… is this…” Dick was fumbling, trying to find the words, and Y/N smiled, “C’mon on Dickie. It’s been a while since I went on the runway, or even in front of a camera outside of Gotham. You’re all old enough now, it’s fine.” 

“What about Dami?” Y/N smiled sadly, “Dami will be fine. Hell, today I’ll have him help me choose the jewelry and clothes that I will be packing.”

“You’re gonna have him help you pack your bags to leave?” Tim wondered, and Y/N flinched out how terrible that sounded, “Not like that. It’s a trip. A fashion trip and a girls trip.” Jason scrunched his nose, “Ma, fucking Bruce just go caught cheating and was broadcasted across the NEWs, and you’re now leaving for a trip. Do you think Dami will understand that?” 

Y/N took a sip of her coffee, “He will. It’ll be a conversation but it will be reiterated as many times as he needs to hear it. Plus, it’s not like you guys can’t call me.” Damien came stomping down the stairs, dressed in the Gotham Academy Uniform, and Y/N threw on a smile that would have had actresses crying, “Dami! I need your help today, so nevermind school.” Green eyes blinked in shock, his gaze taking in every one in the room before landing back on her, “Are you needing my assistance in packing?” 

“Only for a trip. So there’s no need to pack everything.” Damien nodded, “Fine. I will assist you. You have an abysmal amount of jewelry and some of them are simply deplorable.” Y/N chuckled, “Thanks Dami.” He went back up the stairs to change, and Y/N turned back to the NEWs where they were finally talking about something different. 

Sighing, Y/N stood up from the couch, “I’ll be in my room packing if anyone needs anything.” Silence followed her, and once she was out of earshot, Dick proceeded to panic even more. 

+++

She’s in Greece now. After spending a week in Italy, a week in Iceland, two weeks in France, and now four days in Zakynthos, Greece, she knows her vacation time is limited. Y/N has been using Bruce’s card to pay for the three luxury hotel rooms, one for herself (obviously), Jackie, and Stella. She’s used them for the plane flight in first class, the first class train ride, the yacht to get to this island, the fancy dinners, shopping sprees, any time that she needed to put money down she was using his card. 

Bruce is a billionaire, he doesn’t care and Y/N is also a billionaire, but this is her way of being petty. Why would she waste her money? 

A delicate eyebrow raised at the man in the mirror, followed by two of their sons and a butler dressed in a Hawaiian shirt. 

“Lady Y/N, it is great to see you.” 

“Hey Alfie, vacation looks good on you. I highly recommend the mimosa’s here, none of them have been bad.” 

“Hi Ma, you look relaxed.” Jason walked further into the room, taking a seat on the plush chair and grabbing a grape, and tossing some to Dick. Their oldest son smiled and waved, “C’mon mom, I know you’ve been here before, but you could at least try and look like a tourist.” Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling lovingly and flicking her hair over her shoulder. She leaned close to the mirror again, rubbing sunscreen on her face and massaging it into her skin. 

Her husband made his way a little closer as the family spread out in the room. Jason sitting in the chair, Dick on the bed, and Alfred standing near the door. Y/N sneered at Bruce through the mirror, “Bringing the kids to see you get humiliated is something I would have never thought you’d do.” 

Bruce sighed heavily, and Y/N wiped her hands on the towel and sipped her mimosa. Piercing blue eyes, filled with exhaustion and guilt, met hers, “Y/N, how much longer are you scheduled for?” 

“Hmm, for a while Bruce,” She pretended to think, “After all, I’ve been wanting to get back into modeling now that most of the kids are becoming independent, and what better way to announce to the world that I am back than a hard launch.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at her, “Will it be my card you’ll continue to use.”

“Of course! It's the least my darling, idiotic, and hormone-rivaling-a-teenager husband can do after that stunt, right?” The room got colder and Dick sat up straighter at the tension between his two parental figures. Y/N has always had a sharp tongue and quick wit, one she used on Bruce a lot. Rarely ever was it aimed to be hurtful though. 

“Y/N, temper.” Dick’s jaw opened and Jason made an exaggerated gasp. Alfred looked pained as Y/N whirled around and seethed at Bruce, “Temper? Temper?! Who the hell are you to tell me to watch my temper when you can’t even control your own hormones? 

“If you wanted to see my temper you just had to fucking say so!” Dick turned to Alfred, trying to see if there was anything he could do, but at the resigned look the man gave him, the oldest son choked on a noise, “This is a new side of mom.” 

“Lady Y/N has always had a temper, one that rivals Master Bruce.” She looked like a puffed up cat while Bruce was cowing like a dog with puppy eyes, “When they were younger, she would put even the adults in their place.” Her hand grabbed the now cold coffee pot, and Dick feels like it was only because Bruce was used to stuff being thrown at him and catching things that he was able to grab the projectile before it landed on the walls and carpet. Alfred raised a brow, “Sometimes that temper bleeds into other things.” 

Their mother was seething in front of Bruce, looking like a bull and was ready to charge into a china shop. While Bruce may not be as delicate as one, Dick has money on Y/N still doing a lot of damage if she were to charge. Metaphorically and physically.  

“Y/N, please.” Bruce tried again, only to see her get more angry. His hands were up in a placating manner, and Y/N held her own hands tense and ready to swing if he came closer. 

“Y/N, it genuinely was an accident.” 

“ ‘it genuinely was an accident’–” She mocked, purposefully making her voice annoying “-fuck off! Like your tongue going down her throat is an accident. Didn’t know that could happen!” Y/N looked around again for something to chuck, while Bruce closed the space between them inch by inch. 

“What’s next? Are you going to trip and accidentally find yourself between her legs with your pants down?” Jason and Dick blanched at the imagery. 

“Over a decade of marriage, of me playing the perfect ex-model-arm-candy wife for Bruce Wayne just for you dressed in a fucking furry suit to go and makeout with another fucking furry! 

“Like! I know we weren’t in this for love, but there. Are. Still. Standards!” She enunciated each word with a swat of her hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

“I still have standards! You don’t see me making out with anyone else do you? Even as I’m playing Supermodel Y/N, dressed to the millions and making everyone drool, I don’t go making out with them!” 

“How could Batman, of all persona’s you wish to play, do that? I expected that from Brucie, not Batman, defender of Justice or whatever bullshit you spew when dressed in that gothic suit.” 

Bruce sighed, “Y/N, it was bad timing.” He gave her a hard look, “Justice and this are different. You cannot compare the two.” The man knew he messed up once the words left his mouth and he closed his eyes in regret. 

Jason saw the slap coming and he braced himself for the impact it would have. Bruce didn’t catch it, despite him being fully capable of it, and when it landed everyone winced at the sound and the red mark. 

“Well this is my justice. Now go away. I have a photoshoot to get ready for and you are just pissing me off!” The hand print was immaculate. One that had Jason biting back a laugh and Dick looking horrified. Y/N whirled back around to face her vanity, where all her jewelry laid on the surface, and her attention was focused back on picking which one would go with her outfit to the shoot. 

Jason whistled when Bruce turned around to face his kids and Butler, “Good hit Ma. You should hit the other side to even it out.” Y/N gave a laugh, picking up the pearl earrings encased with gold, and she continued to pick out a necklace. 

“Jay, help me out here please.” Rough hands replaced her’s, and green eyes met furious E/C though the mirror. Using the safety of her son’s larger frame to hide herself, Y/N slowly let herself crumble a little bit. Jason could see the anger, hurt, and sadness that was slowly turning the sclera red from holding back tears. There was a subtle shake in her shoulders and the trembling of lips, but Y/N held it together. She was holding onto it by the seams, desperately waiting for the man causing her pain to be gone. 

When the gold clasped, Y/N reached over for her large hat and sunglasses, “Enjoy the beach. Alfie, you especially should enjoy this vacation. Don’t let this  stupid, untrustworthy, and manwhore of a furry disrupt it.” With that, she slammed her hotel room door on her way out, and they all listened as her heels clicked down the hall until they were out of ear shot. 

Alfred glanced at his ward, “Well, I am not one for violence when there are disputes between partners, but I will say that one slap was well deserved, Master Bruce.” The man sighed, slightly rubbing his cheek, “I think the last time she hit me that hard was when we were in grade school.” 

“She put all her body weight into that.” Dick glanced at the hand print, “Woah, I think you can see the ring too.” Jason whistled, and Bruce closed his eyes and took deep breaths to keep himself steady, reflecting on the conversation and where exactly he messed up. 

“I think this is the third time she’s slapped me…” 

“Fourth, sir.” Bruce nodded, remembering the third time. Jason raised an eyebrow, “I only know of the time you were both 6, and you said something mean so she hit you.” Dick pouted, “I know of the one in Middle School, when you were once accused of touching her butt.” 

Alfred raised a brow, “The third time was when she dropped you off at the manor after a long night of drinking and you—” 

“Thanks Alfred, there’s no need to tell that story.” Bruce’s cheeks were now flushed from embarrassment rather than the slap on his cheek.  Y/N truly has seen him through it all. When he got into fights in school, it was always her eyes he sought out after each one. Bored E/C eyes, framed by thick lashes and elegant eyeliner, always watching with a blank expression. Bruce Wayne rarely phased Y/N L/N. When he was younger, he noticed how his last name made people stumble or stutter when talking to him, allowing him to say whatever he wanted. It did nothing to Y/N, who met his gaze and taunts head on with her own witty comebacks that stuck at parts of Bruce that had him fumbling. 

He can remember his dad, Thomas Wayne, laughing when he caught Y/N’s sly comeback directed at Bruce after he said something about her dress. Y/N’s own parents looked mortified. 

Y/N L/N-Wayne was a flame that never wavered. It’s what made her successful at modeling, and a supermodel in her first two years. That flame is what had photographers, stylists, fashion designers, and make up artists still call her up, begging for her to come back. A force of nature that had only paused for Bruce and their children. 

“C’mon, Y/N. Even you can see the benefits of this.” The woman raised her brow at a younger Bruce, who was smiling at her. 

“Your life does not pause, and now with the Wayne name as yours, your options are endless.” 

“And what about you?” 

“This means I no longer have to play as a playboy in public and everyone will stop asking me to marry them or their daughters.” Y/N laughed, “Nah, you’ll still get them. They’ll just now be whispered behind closed doors.” 

Bruce smiled, “The standards of a regular marriage will still apply. Obviously not the sex part or anything, but everything else will. Think of it like living with roommates.

“This will work for the both of us, Y/N.” The woman smiled into the rim of her cup, red lips leaving an imprint on the glass. 

It took him five tries for her to finally agree. There might have been some manipulation on his side of things, but he got that ring on her finger, and 2 months later she was walking down the aisle in a wedding dress that was deemed ‘The Dress of the Century.’ She was beautiful, even more so than usual. 

Dick glanced at him, “So, what’s the plan?” Bruce sighed, “Just make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” 

++++

It took 4 months for Y/N to come back to the manor. Within those 4 months, one of them were always with her. Switching off when they hit a new city, and each one had tried their charm on having her come back to the mansion. Bruce was going crazy, therefore Batman was more brutal than usual, and that the meant the other birds had to pick up the slack when it came to emotions. Bruce had all but shut down every other part that wasn’t Batman. 

However, nothing returned to normal once she was back. Her and Bruce were rarely in each other’s presence, and she refused to see or do anything about Batman. Y/N was trying to remove herself from Bruce Wayne completely, and no one liked that. 

Bruce and Y/N may claim that they were never in love, and that they only married for convenience. However, Dick will always remember watching Bruce and Y/N dancing in the main hall of the manor. He was hanging onto the chandelier, not yet noticed by either, as a song began playing and they both began dancing. 

They had been dressed in casual clothes, which consisted of dark blue jeans and nice tops and shoes. Dick’s young eyes watched as the two of them swayed and twirled around each other, Y/N laughing at the whispered words Bruce would share, and the stern man relaxing for the duration of the time. 

They were far from the perfect couple. Their parenting styles were different, and it took a while for Y/N to warm up to Dick. She was never cold or malicious, but just like Dick and everyone else, she was lost. However, it was her awkward arms he sought after when he had a bad day, or when Bruce got on his nerves. It was her eyes he always seeked approval for. 

When she caught him hastily packing, dying to get away from the man that had his rules tighter than the Robin suit, she helped. Y/N had folded his clothes, snuck a bottle of Smirnoff and Titos into his luggage, because moving required at least two bottles of alcohol, and she hugged him goodbye. 

Every member of this family has a memory tied to Y/N. A gentle one. 

Damian had kind memories, where Y/N smiled at him for no reason. She did not expect perfection, and one time she stated how she wished Damian would fail sometimes. It was something that had him seething and jumping to defend himself, but Y/N laughed, “Failure is our best teacher, Damian. What better time to fail then when you knwo you have people willing to help you up?” 

Jason remembers peeking on Y/N when he was younger. Watching through the cracks of the door as she and Bruce swayed to music, laughed at old memories, or simply sat around each other and read a book. Sometimes, he’d catch her trying on her jewelry, or reorganizing her perfume. Every now and then she would go through her closet and donate clothes she no longer wanted or needed. 

He watched how Dick, would seek her out whenever he and Bruce argued. When Jason finally allowed himself to be wrapped in those arms– arms that always had Bruce looking ready to sacrifice everything, that had Dick relaxing, and Alfred smiling endearingly– and he can see why they did so. It's different from Bruce, because Bruce makes you feel protected. In Bruce’s arms, Jason knows that there is almost nothing that can harm him. 

In Y/N’s embrace, Jason feels at peace. There’s no need to worry about protection because he’s in a place that does not need it. When he dances with Y/N, to their song nonetheless, there is nothing that can ever disrupt the moment. Y/N stares at him with adoration, just how she does with Dick, only her attention is on him. Him! A street rat from Dowry, Crime Alley, and he has the attention of the woman that is Bruce’s equal in the highest social circles. 

Those soft E/C eyes, that always stared at them with warmth and love, stared back at him through the mirror. He and Tim, because Timmy loved her just as much as he did, watched as Y/N emptied another glass of the Rose, and how the exhaustion from all the shows, photoshoots, flashing cameras, and the ordeal with Bruce seeped into her bones. 

“Hey Ma, let's get some sleep.” Jason walked closer, carefully minding the scattered jewelry that looked more expensive than any of his weapons, and Tim, who was forever on the same wavelength as Jason, scampered over to the large bed and lit the diffuser. 

Y/N hummed, running her hands through her hair, before tilting her head back and looking at Jason once more, “You both shouldn’t be here. I can handle this myself.” Y/N never liked it when any of the kids saw her less than presentable. She was always dressed in nice clothes, with nice jewelry, and makeup even at the manor. It's one of the worries of being a model, she had told Dick, always scared that the nosey paparazzi will catch you at your worst and share it with an even crueler audience. 

Jason had once confided in her about Willis Todd, and how he hated it when she drank in front of him. Whether it was scotch or champagne. 

After that, Y/N always drank in her room. 

The thing is, that Jason knows Y/N wouldn’t ever hurt him. She’s not like Willis who purposefully seeked out to hurt someone smaller. Jason knows that no matter how mad she got at him, she wouldn’t do anything (unlike what she would do to Bruce).

This is why, despite all the trauma he has with alcohol and people being intoxicated, he can confidently move the bottle away and the glass. Noting how both were empty. 

Tim strolled over, and gave a small smile through the mirror, “I’ll brush your hair, Mom. Then you should sleep.” Y/N tried to wave him off, “Don’t bother. I can do it myself. You both should go.” She sluggishly reached out for the vintage decorated paddle brush, only for Tim to snatch it before she could. 

“I want to do it. Besides, if it bothers you, think of it as me returning the favor.” The confused look Y/N gave him had him smiling patiently as he stood behind her and gently began to brush the locks of hair. Y/N sighed, “This is embarrassing. My kids should not be taking care of me.” 

“I’m an adult.” 

“CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well. Taking care of you when you are in a low spot is the least I could do.” Lord knows how many times Y/N has cared for them at their lowest. When Tim believed that Bruce was stuck in the Time Stream, Y/N didn’t seem all that confident in it, but she still believed him and helped him narrow down locations. She kept the press busy while he went out and searched. 

He heard later that she refused to talk to Dick when she found out they wanted to put Tim in Arkham. She shook her head in disappointment when Dick told her that Damien is now Robin. Tim always thought Dick was a bit stupid on that part. Parading Damien, a child from another woman, around and in front of Y/N nonetheless. Yes, thankfully Y/N warmed up to Damien and vice versa (although for Damien it took longer),  but that could have gone bad in so many ways. 

“Still my kids.” Jason pulled a chair next to her, so they could all be in the view of the mirror, and in a rare show of affection that is only reserved for Alfred and Y/N, he rested his head on her shoulder as Tim continued to work the brush carefully through her hair. Y/N’s shoulders sagged and her back hunched a bit, and for the first time in a while, Y/N let herself look how she felt. Exhausted. Utterly and completely exhausted. 

Tim can see the dark circles under her red rimmed eyes, and the way her skin looked duller than usual. Granted, she finished a long gig, working tirelessly for months posing, getting dressed up, and traveling around the world to forget Bruce’s infidelity. 

‘Standards,’ she said in response to his excuse. Tim isn’t stupid to believe that neither Bruce or Y/N have feelings for the other. He’s seen it. It's in the way that Bruce concedes in arguments, or the flowers and necklaces he buys her when he’s apologetic, how the harsh glare that was directed at Tim when he first became Robin eased the moment Y/N pulled the boy close to her. Acting as a shield and sword for him. 

Her message was clear, and Bruce decided to read it. 

Y/N on the other hand lessened Bruce’s stress when he was CEO, the breaks from brooding to dance in the main hall to their song, or even acting as the sound of reason for him. She keeps him tethered to Earth, never letting his thoughts stray too far from reality. 

They may not be in love, but they still liked each other. Enough so that Bruce went along with her whims, just how she does with him. Enough so for Bruce to chase her across the world. Looking at it, perhaps Bruce was the one in love. 

“Jason, can you pass me the scrunchie?” He grabbed the silk scrunchie from large hands, and began braiding his mom’s hair. 

“You guys are being so silly,” Y/N huffed, and Jason beamed at her, giving her a boyish smile that he never shows anymore, “Anything for ya, Ma.” She subtly shook her head, a smile on her face as she looked back into the mirror. 

“Is this still about Bruce?” Tim kept his eyes on the braid, but from the tension in her shoulders, he hit the jackpot. Y/N brought her hand up to rub her forehead, “That idiot…” 

“Join the club, Ma.” Y/N took a deep breath, “He’s so stupid. It’s one thing to kiss another woman, which is fine. Do what you want to do, it’s not like we married for love.” A glare formed on her face, “But to get caught is another thing. Fucking idiot, he can only think with his hormones like a teenager. Even Dami isn’t like that, thank god.” 

Tim tied off the braid with the silk scrunchie, watching Y/N get heated again, “I hate him.” Except it was said with no bite, and the way Y/N’s lip wobbled had Tim hearing other words alongside the ones she mumbled. Jason leaned into her, offering her comfort while Tim watched from the reflection in the mirror.

Y/N to Tim was what Janet Drake had failed to be. He learned a lot from both of them, and it helped that both women were huge players in their social circles and socialites. They both taught him how to play with people’s perception of someone. Only Janet taught him to keep a straight face and not show emotion, while Y/N taught him that with a correct smile and a well placed chuckle, someone can be eating out of the palm of their hands. Both women approached the world with different weapons and tools, and both women used and taught them to him. 

Only Y/N also knew when it was time to put down the mask and become a reliable person for Tim, while Janet continued to only be Janet to Tim. 

He loves them both. Except, with Y/N he felt that if she were to ever leave him the way Janet did then he would have no choice but to follow and bring her back. Wherever Y/N goes, Tim will follow. 

“Boys.” Jason and Tim snapped their attention to the door, and Bruce was standing there, menacingly longingly. His face in an unusual expression, but one he’s worn a lot throughout the time Y/N was gone. An expression all the boys have gotten to know. Tim escaped, saying goodnight to both parental figures, before leaving for the cave. 

Jason pecked Y/N’s cheek, whispering good night and glaring at Bruce, “Don’t fuck this up old man.” To which Bruce sighed and nodded, closing the door after Jason. For the first time in months, it was just Y/N and Bruce. Alone with each other’s company and Bruce knows that if she could, she’d probably be strangling him right now. 

With great hesitancy, one that he could never show as Batman, he sat on the bed about a foot away from her. 

“I paused my life for you.” Y/N glared into blue eyes, “I paused almost everything, for you. For your mission. For the children you brought into our home, without asking me about it beforehand, may I remind you. I love them, and don’t you dare twist that, but I would have liked to have been consulted about it first.” Y/N didn’t want to be a mother. It was never in the cards for her, and yet here she is having more children than she had ever dreamt of. 

She loves them. She’d die and kill for them, but they were never in the cards of life she wanted dealt to her. 

“I paused so much, just for you to go and.. And… and do that.” Bruce winced at that, and Y/N felt happy that he did. Gritting her teeth, Y/N turned her attention to look at the fire. The heat of it reminds her of her own rage and the coldness she feels when in the presence of Bruce. 

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and bit back a groan, “And once I start getting my life started again, having fun, going on the runway and magazines, here you come storming back.” 

“You looked like you needed the break.” Y/N shook her head, “Did you know, that that is one of your worst habits. Always making yourself out to be the hero.” She took a glass of wine and watched the liquid swirl in the glass, “Of course, you let me have that moment. Of course you were thinking of me, and my happiness. How kind of you.” 

Bruce sighed, watching her sip the alcohol that left a red stain on her lips. He can remember the first time he saw her in red lipstick. Shockingly, it was in-person and the red made her skin look warm and teeth appear even whiter despite the knowledge that red lipstick can make your teeth look yellower. It was a beautiful shade, matched by her dress. 

She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even as time progressed and she and he got older, Y/N remained beautiful. Defying the laws time and age as she remained ethereal. Unfairly so. 

Bruce had wanted to preserve that beauty, in the same way that many tried to preserve the flowers from the garden and the expensive smelling perfume. He wanted nothing more than for Y/N to continue smiling and for the fire to remain bright. 

To do that, he had to stay away. He could not allow himself to love her, because if he fell then he would drag her through the mud with him. Yet, here he is on the other side of that cold look, one that had him hesitating. That kiss with Selena was terrible timing all around. She had caught him in a moment of weakness, and someone just so happened to be there at the worst moment to catch it all. 

Staying away proved to be ineffective when here she is drinking wine with red-rimmed eyes and anger in her brows. 

“This marriage was never one for love, but there are standards. Ones we talked about beforehand.” 

“I know.” Y/N pursed her lips, tilting her head to the left and watching Bruce with distrustful eyes. The man sighed heavily and he sat in front of her, taking his own glass and pouring himself some wine. He didn’t like this type of wine, and from the very small scrunch in her nose Y/N didn’t like it either. 

The more he stared at her, taking in her still youthful features and eyes that burned bright, the more he could feel his emotions rising to the surface. Feelings and emotions he long tried to bury, but never quite succeeded. He had hoped that kissing Selena would just prove that he is only missing her as a sexual partner, and it only confirmed for him that he was in love with her. 

He is in love with Y/N L/N-Wayne. His kids are in love with Y/N. Alfred loves Y/N. The whole Wayne family, extended and all, are in love with this woman. This woman has nothing to do with their vigilantism, but instead reminds them that they are also normal and exist outside of masks and costume. That they are human and not shadows of the night. 

That they are the Wayne family. 

God, he loves her so much. So much. She is his weakness, his strength, his everything. The fancy cufflinks that are only brought out for special occasions, the expensive wine cracked open for celebrations, the pearl earring worn for the best performances. Y/N is the treasure of the Wayne family. 

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, slowly inching his way around her, testing the waters to see if she would shake him off or hiss at him. When there was no sign of that, he tightened his hold only slightly and pressed his forehead into her shoulder, gently laying a kiss on the joint, “Like I said, it was an accident. She caught me at a bad time, and I wasn’t expecting her to do that.” 

Y/N released a heavy sigh, and Bruce hugged her tighter, “I swear. It wasn’t consensual.” She rubbed her forehead, and Bruce watched how the lines slowly faded and melted back into her skin. Y/N never wore exhaustion well, which was why on mornings she had early photoshoots, she would sleep in her room instead of Bruce’s. She always woke up when he would stalk in and climb under the sheets with her. 

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance. Let me take care of you the way you should be.” Y/N chuckled at that, “Careful Bruce, keep saying stuff like that and I might start to believe you have feelings for me.” Ice blue met E/C, and Y/N hesitated for a moment. Something chilling going down her spine, “I guess, I should start saying it more often then.” 

“Bruce…” He pecked her cheek, careful of the fire he was playing with, and carefully watching her reactions. His arms encircled her tighter, and he kissed her shoulder. Bruce watched, and observed how the tension slowly left her and reluctant acceptance came across her face. His arms tightened, and Bruce fought back a smile. 

“Ever the charmer,” She mumbled. Bruce huffed a laugh, and Y/N shook her head, “If I catch you with your mouth on anyone else’s but mine, I’m going to sick the kids on you.” An image of four rabid dogs, followed by a few more, filled his mind. Bruce grimaced as he remembered the tongue lashing he got from everyone, “Noted.” 

Y/N chuckled, and Bruce smiled, throwing his weight back on the pillows, bringing Y/N with him. His arms still tight around her waist, and a promise on his lips. 

‘I’ll never let you go again.’ 

________________________________________________

Not super Yandere, but it is getting there.

[theodorecanaryhood]

Family extension

First fic will feature Dick and Second will feature Jason.

Dick Grayson x female reader

Was a long night for Dick on the streets of Bludhaven, he’d just finished up on patrol taking down a group of thugs, Two Face followers and also some petty criminals.

All Dick wanted to do right now was get into bed with you and hold you all night. He wanted to do that every night for the rest of his life. He wanted to be with you, forever.

Dick walked in through the front door after changing on his way home. He took a breath as he reached into his jacket pocket that was hanging up, pulling out a black velvet box. Smiling to himself.

You were in the kitchen with your back to him pouring hot water into a mug, making a cup of tea when Dick put his arms around your waist and kissed the top of your head.

‘Hey, how was patrol?’ You smiled as you leant into his embrace, smelling a hint of sweat from him.

‘Good but I’m tired’ he replied as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

‘Want some tea?’ You asked, Dick shook his head.

‘Just wanna get into bed, what are you doing up this late anyway?’ He asked as he walked over to the counter. Your back still turned to him.

‘Couldn’t sleep, hypothetical question, the girl you’re seeing is throwing up and is late for her period’ you say as you turn around to face Dick, with your cup in your hand, your eyes widening at the sight of Dick on one knee.

‘Y/n, will you marry me?’ Dick asked,

‘I’m pregnant’ you spoke almost simultaneously,

‘What?’

‘What?’ You both spoke at the same time, Dick staying in one knee, you staring at him then at the ring.

‘Yes’ you said with a smile

‘Awesome’ Dick was still a little shocked by your news to say something better in response, but he put the ring on your finger and then stood to hug you.

‘I love you both’ Dick whispered in your ear, you hugged him tighter

‘I love you too’ you kissed him hard, putting your cup down and grabbing onto Dick’s face to hold him closer while kissing him.

Jason Todd x Male Reader

You and Jason had been friends for about 3 years, then became a couple a year ago.

You had decided in a whim to get married, eloping and then returning as Husbands. This was new for Jason as he wasn’t the type to settle in. However, he loved you so deeply that he couldn’t think without you. His everything.

You worked as a cop and while on shift this one day you came across a neglected 1 year old, you arrested his Mother who was selling and making drugs in her home, while the Father of the child was in a street gang and really bad news.

The little boy had to get out of that house before he wound up like one of his parents or worse, but you couldn’t help yourself. You fell in love with the little boy. Who just seemed so happy and innocent.

‘Are we sure about this?’ Jason asked you to break the silence, your fingers intertwined with his. You looked him in the eye.

‘Yeah, definitely, but if you’re not ready’ you said with a smile.

Jason shook his head, he knew it would break your heart to walk away from the little baby boy only for him to go in the system.

‘I wanna do this, with you’ Jason smiled as he leant in and kissed you softly.

‘Mr Todd’ a blonde lady spoke coming out of the office, you both stood up.

‘Yes’ Jason said with a smile. The Lady looking a little confused at first, realising you were together.

‘It’s time for the interview and meeting with baby blue’ she spoke with an accepting smile.

Baby Blue is what they were calling him as that was all he had at the time he was found by you, a blue blanket. You weren’t sure of his name as the Mother never gave it.

You and Jason had decided on calling him ‘Zachary Alfred Todd’, and it seemed very fitting.

…

After you had your interview with the adoption agency, had done an assessed interaction time with Zachary. It was time for the adoption Lady to test your parenting skills. As adopting a one year old is harder than an older child.

Jason having been adopted himself knew of how the process went, yourself having more experience with kids than Jason. It was a fitting match.

…

The day to take home your son, Zac, finally came and you were both smiling brightly as your little boy came out with you. Holding his Dad’s hands.

Walking down as a little family you couldn’t wait to show him off to the world, but first take him to see his new home. A loving home. Also later meeting his Uncle’s and Grandpa Bruce.

‘You know you two are my world?’ Jason said to you spontaneously as you entered the car, you sitting in the drivers seat while Jason strapped Zac into the car seat.

‘I know, I love you Jay’ you smiled, Jason sat next to you as leant over giving you a kiss.

‘I love you more Angel’ Jason beamed as he then kissed you again.

Driving your Husband and Son home

[northoftheroad]

Recommeded reading for Dick Grayson / Robin and Nightwing

This is an updated repeat of a couple of lists with reading recommendations with Dick as Robin and Nightwing (Pre-Flashpoint) that I've made earlier. But since I wrote them as answers to asks, the posts don't have a headline, and I find that they can be easy to miss (for me, when I want to look something up...) So I thought I might as well make a new, single post of them.

The stories are in what I imagine would be an in-universe chronology. They are from all periods, ignoring that the Golden age stories and Silver/Bronze/modern age stories have at times been considered two different universes. Most of them are stories that, at the time of their publishing, were canon and in continuity. None is explicitly Elseworld, so you can certainly imagine that they have happened ;-)

To be honest, not all of these comics are examples of great storytelling. Older superhero comics, for instance, are definitely something else compared to modern comics, for better and for worse. I've picked some because they are "the first time" or significant in some way (e.g. the first time Dick was almost killed, when Bruce has to fight to keep custody, an infamous fight between Dick and Bruce, the most well-known different origin stories, panels that are often quoted); others because they have a cute or fun moment. I have also included some books that I don't like myself but are well-known.

Storytelling has changed a lot since Dick was Robin. Back in the Golden and Silver age, with very few exceptions, comics were stand-alone short stories. In later decades, it's usually arcs that span at least a couple of issues and some stories have consequences for years.

Dick has been an active team member since the 1960s, and he has arguably been at his best in some team titles, but I still don't have a lot of team books here. I find it difficult to, off the top of my head, recall any "special Dick issues".

Obviously, these are very personal preferences, and the list is based on what I've read and remembered best.

Robin the Boy Wonder. Detective Comics # 38 (The original origin story. There has been maaany more since then – I've made a list just with origin stories....) (1940).

Batman: Year Three. Batman # 436-439. (An origin story where Dick spent some time at a nice orphanage before he came to Bruce.) (1989)

Robin Annual vol 2 # 4. (Another origin story, where the Gotham authorities remove Dick him from the circus, and he is put in the Gotham City's Youth Center. Not my preferred but it's well known.) (1995)

The Gauntlet. The Batman Chronicles #1. (The test before Batman let Dick start out as Robin.) (1997)

Grimm. Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #149-153. (A story set when Dick is new as Robin and still uncertain about his place. For a while, he wants to leave Batman and stay in a children's underground paradise.) (2002)

Robin: Year One. (Traumatic events during Dick's first year as Robin. He was nearly beat to death by Two-Face. When Bruce said he was not permitted to continue as Robin, Dick ran away because he didn't think there was a place for him at the Manor any more.) (2001)

The case of the honest crook. Batman #5. (1941)

The Batman plays a lone hand. Batman #13. (The first time Bruce ended the Batman and Robin partnership and left Dick to take care of himself.) (1942)

Robin studies his lessons. Batman #18. (1943)

Bruce Wayne loses the guardianship of Dick Grayson. Batman #20. (1944)

Clay. Batman Black and White #6. (2014)

Don't know where, don't know when. Batman Black and White #1. (2013)

Dick Grayson, author. Batman #35. (1946)

The Clocks of Doom. Star Spangled Comics #70.

The man Batman refused to help! Star Spangled Comics #88.

A birthday for Batman. Star Spangled Comics #91.

Robin, the Boy Failure. DC #145. (Dick gets amnesia, and Bruce tries to get him to remember that he’s Robin, without telling him outright.) (1949).

The killer-dog of Gotham city. Star Spangled Comics #100. (1950)

The trial of Bruce Wayne. Batman #57. (1950)

Race of the century. DC #157. (1950)

Dick Grayson, detective. Star Spangled Comics #111. (1950)

The strange costumes of Batman. DC #165. (Dick’s first time as Batman.) (1950)

The robberies in the Batcave. DC #177. (1951)

Partner for Batman. Batman #65. (1951)

Batman II and Robin, junior. Batman #66. (1951)

The plainclothes Robin. Star Spangled Comics #112. (Batman forbids Dick from going out at as Robin; he finds creative ways to use it in other ways.) (1951)

Operation Escape. Star Spangled Comics #124. (1952)

The new team of Superman and Robin. World's Finest Comics #75. (With Batman out of commission, Robin teams up with Superman. Batman is a bit apprehensive about Dick’s joy.) (1955)

Batman, jr. DC #231. (1956)

The grown-up Boy Wonder. Batman #107. (1957)

The last days of Batman. Batman #125. (1959)

Robin's new boss. Batman #137. (Dick wants to leave Bruce and get into a new partnership. Bruce is very distraught indeed.) (1961)

Robin Dies at Dawn. Batman #156. (Batman gets PTSD after participating in an experiment and he has to hang up the cowl becuase he is endangering Robin. Doctor Simon Hurt, who became a main villain when Grant Morrison wrote Batman, is the nameless doctor in charge of the experiment.) (1963)

The Olsen-Robin team versus the Superman-Batman team. World's Finest Comics #141. (1964)

The thousand-and-one dooms of Mr Twister. The Brave and the Bold #54. (The first team-up of Robin, Kid Flash and Aqualad – the first step towards the formation of the Teen Titans.) (1964)

Teen Titans: Year One. (A retelling of the origin of the Teen Titans. The original version was told in Teen Titans vol 1 #53 from 1978, the last issue of the Silver/Bronze age comic book.) (2008)

Midnight raid of the Robin gang. DC #342. (1965)

The Round-Robin death threats. DC #366-367. (1967)

Batgirl breaks up the dynamic duo. DC #369. (1967)

The Nemesis from Batman's boyhood. DC #370. (1967)

Batman! Drop dead… twice. DC #378-379. (1968)

Geometry. Superman #700. (Dick goes out as Robin on his own, against Bruce's order. Superman has to fish him up out the harbour...) (2010)

Menace of the Motorcycle Marauders. Batman #202. (1968)

Operation blindfold. Batman #204-205. (1968)

Angel… or devil. Batman #216. (1969)

Prisoners of the Immortal world. World’s Finest Comics #200. (Dick had moved to Hudson University by now. Together with Superman and a pair of brothers, he's transported to a different world.) (1971)

Daughter of the Demon. Batman #232. (First appearance of Ra's al Ghul, who kidnaps Robin from Hudson as a test to see if Batman is worthy of Talia.) (1971)

Vengeance for a cop. Batman #234-236. (1971)

Night of the Reaper. Batman #237. (1971)

Earth - the monster maker. Justice League of America #91-92. (A story with characters from both Earth-One and Earth-Two, including the adult Robin from Earth-Two who is a member of the Justice Society of America.) (1971)

How many times can a Robin die? Batman #246. (A criminal sets out to revenge himself on Batman by setting up murders of lifelike Robin dummies; since he has kidnapped the real Robin, Batman can't know if the killings are the real thing.) (1972)

The return of the Flying Grayson. Batman #250. (1973)

Color me deadly. Batman #316. (1979)

The Iron solution. DC #487. (1980)

The Man in Black wears Green. DC #493. (1980)

The Lazarus Affair (plus). Batman #331-335. (Another story with Talia and Ra's al Ghul, but also about generation gaps and slum buildings. Robin is angrily opposed to Bruce being with Talia because he doesn't trust her; he seeks out Catwoman to help.) (1981)

Yesterday's heroes. Batman #339. (1981)

To kill a legend. Detective Comics #500. (The Phantom Stranger transports Batman and Robin to a parallel Earth where they have the chance to stop that world's Joe Chill from murdering the Waynes.) (1981)

Who is Donna Troy? New Teen Titans #38. (Dick helps Donna Troy, Wonder girl, to find out where she came from. A great detective story.) (1984)

The Judas contract (when Dick becomes Nightwing). The New Teen Titans # 39-40, Tales of the Teen Titans #41-44, Annual #3. (1984)

Nightwing Year One. Nightwing vol 2 # 101-106. (I honestly don't care much for this story, but it's good to know that it's one of several retellings of how Dick became Nightwing.) (2005)

A Little Nudge, in the Robin 80th Anniversary Special. (An alternate take on Dick leaving Robin to become Nightwing, where Bruce and Dick don’t split on hostile terms – Dick is just a bit annoyed. It is very unclear in what timeline, if any, this is supposed to fit, but I like it a lot better than the Post-Crisis/Pre-Flashpoint versions.) (2020)

Trivial Pursuits. New Teen Titans vol 2 # 32. (A nice breather, when the Titans try just to relax together. It goes as well as can be expected.) (1987)

Wrath Child. (A story from when Dick was fairly new as Nightwing.) Batman Confidential # 13-16. (2008)

Batman # 416. (First post-Crisis meeting with Jason Todd) (1988)

The Cheshire Contract. Action Comics Weekly # 613-618 (Dick helps Roy find his daughter.) (1988)

The New Titans # 55. (Dick learns about Jason's death when the Titans return to Earth after a long period in space. He goes to Bruce to talk and what follows is the infamous scene when Bruce hits Dick, says he should never have had a partner and tells Dick to leave and leave the keys with Alfred.) (1989)

Batman: Year Three. Batman # 436–439. (Flashbacks with a retelling of Dick's origin, during Bruce's third year as Batman. In the "now", Dick tries to reach out to Bruce and Dick's parents' murderer is about to be set free.) (1989)

A Lonely Place of Dying. Batman # 440-442, New Titans # 60-61. (1990)

The New Titans # 65. (Tim turns up at Dick's place to learn what it is to be Batman's partner.) (1990)

Total Chaos. (In issues of Deathstroke the Terminator, New Titans and Team Titans.) (Mirage, a woman from an alternate future and who has illusion casting powers, takes the form of Starfire and sleeps with Dick, who is shamed by his team members for being unfaithful to Kory, even though this is rape. So, an important fact to know but not something I would recommend to read.) (1992)

Knightfall Prodigal (Dick's first longer stint as Batman. And he takes care of Tim and the Manor on his own!) In Batman #512-514 and three other titles. (1994-1995)

Nightwing Alfred's Return (Kind of fun, when Dick seeks out Alfred, who left Bruce's service because Bruce wasn't taking care of himself, in London.) (1995)

Nightwing vol 1 # 1-4. (I don't love this, but it is a milestone in that it's the first Nightwing solo series, Dick momentarily decides to leave the hero business, and gets his by now classic fingerstripe suit.) (1995)

Like Riding a Bike. (Donna checks up on Dick.) The Batman Chronicles # 7. (1996)

(Nightwing vol 2 began in 1996.)

Nightwing vol 2 # 6. (Tim and Dick talk and fight crooks.) (1997)

Nightwing vol 2 # 12-16. (Batman pays a visit and Dick makes his custom made car.) (1997)

The Flash plus Nightwing. (Dick and Wally on vacation.) (1997)

Then & Now. Teen Titans vol 2 #12-15. (The original four Titan boys find themselves fighting their past selves.) (1997)

Nightwing vol 2 # 25. (Tim and Dick talk and ride on train roofs. Dick has decided to become a cop.) (1998)

Detective Comics # 725 (A heart-to-heart between Bruce and Dick.) (1998)

The Technis Imperative. JLA/Titans #1-3. (1998-1999)

The Titans (1999) # 2. (The start of a new Titans team, Dick tells Superman to give them some room.) (1999)

Nightwing vol 2 # 32–34. (Dick at the Police Academy.) (1999)

Nightwing vol 2 # 35–39. (On a mission from Batman: To take control of Blackgate Prison. Afterwards, he recuperates at Barbara's when her place is attacked.) (1999-2000)

The Titans (1999) #15–16. (The original five Titans try to work out some difficulties.) 2000.

Transference. Batman: Gotham Knights #8-11. (2000)

Nightwing vol 2 # 45-46. (The Hunt for Oracle.) (2000)

Action Comics # 771. (Nightwing and Superman hang out and work together – what's not to like!) 2000

Gods of Gotham. Wonder Woman # 164-167. (2001)

Nightwing vol 2 # 52. (Yet another example of sexual assault when Catwoman kisses Nightwing, in an effort to make Batman jealous.) (2001)

Nightwing vol 2 # 54-58. (Blockbuster, Nightwing's main adversary in Blüdhaven, hires an old enemy of Dick's to deal with the vigilante: Shrike. A character from Robin Year One.) (2001)

Matatoa. Batman: Gotham Knights # 16-17. (Bruce adopts Dick.) (2001)

Who Is Troia? The Titans (1999) # 23-25. (A visit from the Titan's children from the Kingdom Come universe.). (2001)

Retribution. Batman: Gotham Knights # 20-21. (2001)

Nightwing vol 2 # 64. (Nightwing as Santa's elf.) (2001)

Bruce Wayne: Murderer and Bruce Wayne: Fugitive (in several titles). (Dick refuses to believe that Bruce can be a murderer and it causes friction with for instance Tim. Also, a big fight between Dick and Bruce when the latter says he is going to abandon his Bruce identity.) (2002)

Nightwing vol 2 # 75. (Flashback's to Dick's early years with Bruce. Plus the first appearance of Tarantula (Catalina Flores; a controversial figure in Dick's history, she straddled the line between vigilante and villain.)) (2002)

Hush. Batman # 608–619. (# 615 for Dick, but it might be confusing only to read one issue.) (2002-2003)

The Obsidian Age. JLA vol 1 # 68-75. (The Justice League members disappear, Dick leads a new team for a few issues. In # 73, Bruce is quoted: "The only time I ever feel pride is when I look at Nightwing. Sometimes I think he's the only thing I ever did right."). (2002-2003)

Titans/Young Justice: Graduation Day # 1-3 (Donna is killed. Dick is devastated and declares that the Titans are finished.) (2003)

Nightwing vol 2 # 80-83. (Deathstroke is in Blüdhaven to kill someone close to Dick. Bruce asks when he will quit the force, Dick wants to stay as a cop, but when he saves Amy Rohrbach, she recognizes that Dick is Nightwing and fires him.) (2003)

Nightwing vol 2 # 86. (Dick, forced to rest after being injured, solves crimes on America's Most Wanted and drives Barbara up the wall.) (2003)

The Outsiders vol 3 # 1 (Roy talks Dick, who dissolved the Titans after Donna's death, into leading a new team, promising they will not be a family.) (2003)

Nightwing vol 2 # 87-100. (Definitely one of the darkest periods points in Dick's life pre-Flashpoint. Tarantula breaks up him and Barbara. Blockbuster destroys his circus, his home and kills people just for talking to Dick. Tarantula kills Blockbuster and Nightwing is too exhausted to prevent it, and afterwards, he has a panic attack and she rapes him (# 93). Not necessarily something I would recommend to read, but fans discuss it a lot.) (2003-2004)

The Outsiders vol 3 # 11 (Roy is angsting about going back to the hero business after narrowly surviving being shot to death, sparring and heart-to-heart with Dick follows.) (2004)

Under the Hood. Batman # 635-641, 645-650, Annual # 25. (2004-2006)

Supergirl (2005) # 3 (Supergirl has a huuuge crush on Nightwing... ) (2005)

Silent partner. The Outsiders vol 3 # 21-23. (Dick goes ballistic when he realizes Batman has been funding the Outsiders, Roy admits Batman has been feeding him information. Only it wasn't Batman – it was Deathstroke in disguise.) (2005)

DC Special: The Return of Donna Troy  # 1-4. (2005)

Nightwing vol 2 # 107–117. (Dick leaves Nightwing, starts working for the mob and trains Deathstroke's daughter. I think the author has some kind of resolution to the crisis Dick had gone through the last years in mind, but Infinite Crisis got in the way. Blüdhaven is destroyed in a nuclear explosion.) (2005-2006)

Infinite Crisis. (DC had planned to let Dick die, he is central to the story even if he's not very visible.) (2005-2006)

Targets. Nightwing vol 2 # 125-128. (Dick hunts for a day job in New York and gets buried alive, which leads to some retrospection on his behalf. There's also fights with a guy with a weaponized armour.) (2007)

The Brave and the Bold # 15. Nightwing and Hawkman. (Deadman, inside Hawkman, says that Dick Grayson is the one guy that every crimefighter trusts.) (2007)

Outsiders: Five of a Kind – Nightwing/Boomerang. (It ends with Batman telling Dick: "Go back to the good fight, Dick. Leave the bad fight to us.") (2007)

Freefall. Nightwing vol 2 # 140–146. (Dick starts freefalling as a new hobby; Bruce is not pleased. And he gets a new daytime job, as a museum curator. Oh, and there's Talia al Ghul, too.) (2008)

Robin # 175. (Some fun panels with flashbacks with Dick and Tim.) (2008)

Superman/Batman # 55. (Batman has got Superman’s powers while Superman loses his. When Batman starts to get out of control, Nightwing tries to stop him.)  (2009)

The Great Leap. Nightwing vol 2 # 147–151. (Two-Face wants Nightwing to save a life.) (2008-2009)

Titans (2008) # 10. (Dick leaves the Titans because he needs to go back to Gotham and "take care of my other family." (2009)

Nightwing vol 2 # 152-153. (That time when Ra's al Ghul called Dick detective. And Dick packed up and left New York to move back to Gotham.) (2009)

Batman # 682. (Just for the line about how Dick made colour come into their monochrome lives ;-) ) (2009)

Detective Comics # 85, Batman # 684 (Dick mourning Bruce) (2009)

The Secret Six # 9. (Some of the members of the Secret Six feel they should be the new Batman.) (2009)

Battle for the Cowl # 1-3. (2009)

If you don't mind reading comics that are not in the main comic universe, there are also a lot of fun reading in comic books that are tie-ins to Batman The Animated Series, and in Batman '66 which builds on the tv show from 1966. There is also Dark Victory from 1999–2000 ��� and tiny Dick is adorable in Batman/Scarecrow: Year One from 2005. Dick has about two panels in Darwyn Cooke’s DC: The New Frontier from 2004, but I think it’s kind of worth reading just for those. 

[mirrerover]

High on the Fumes

“Straying a bit far from the nest, Dickiebird,” Jason says. He’s got one hand shoving his mask back up into his hood, revealing just his mouth and the sharp line of his jaw, while the other digs in the pocket of his leather jacket, fishing for cigarettes. A beaten-up carton gets waved in Dick’s general direction, offering a cigarette Dick never accepts. Not like this. Not in the Nightwing suit, at least.

They’re currently overlooking Crime Alley, seated on the edge of the roof, legs dangling off the side. Jason hadn’t seemed surprised when Dick had dropped down next to him on the ledge. But Red Hood wouldn’t be Red Hood if Jason didn’t know the coming and goings of the various vigilantes creeping on Gotham's rooftops at night.

“Ran out of bad guys my side of the pond,” Dick says in the easy way he says lots of things. The patented Grayson charm. “What can I say—I’m just that good.”

That actually pulls a laugh out of Jason. A genuine one. One that has his mouth stretched apart in a smile that makes Dick think beautiful.

“No criminals in Blüdhaven. I knew moonlighting as a police officer would be bad for you. Six months on the job and they’ve already got you on their payroll.”

“Thought you’d be proud of me for lasting as long as I did.”

“Sure thing, Princess.” There’s a fancy Zippo in his hand now, one Dick has never seen before, lighting the first cigarette of plenty to come. Dick wonders if Jason lifted it off some crook he left for dead. “You probably broke some departmental records. Most Blüdhaven cops are on the take before they’ve even stepped off Academy grounds.”

Dick chuckles the way you chuckle when watching your own house burn down to ashes, all your mortal possessions still inside. Blüdhaven is a corrupt cesspool with no fast and easy fix. Maybe not even a slow and difficult one—and she’s all Dick's. He stuffs the thought somewhere deep and hidden and eagerly shifts his eyes to Jason so he can forget. Just for a while.

It’s hard to read Jason’s face, hidden in the shadows of his hood, but the body language is clear; no apparent stiffness or major sore spots. Jason looks relaxed, if not a little tired, fingers nimble when they lift the cigarette to his lips. So the bloodstains aren’t his own.

“Slow night?”

Jason shrugs. “Petty criminals, mostly.” His lips tighten into a harsh line. “Some creep who thought he could set up shop and play pimp. Fuck that. My girls work for themselves.”

His girls. And that, Dick thinks, is the difference between Bruce and Jason. Bruce has his villains, his meta humans, and when that well runs dry there’s the League. A galaxy full of nemeses for him to fight.  Big players and even bigger stakes. Abstract concepts of freedom and peace, and the liberty of dealing in absolutes. Jason has his people. The concrete reality of kids not being cornered by predators and sex workers keeping money in their own pockets. And his people love him. Prefer the Red Hood taking an iron pipe to the face of their abusive ex-husband, their kid’s drug dealer, or the rapist next-door, to the untouchable Bat Symbol high up in the sky.

Maybe Dick’s been staring too hard or maybe Jason can tell he’s thinking of Bruce because the next time he speaks, he’s extra crass: “I need a cock so far up my ass I’ll be seeing stars, a good meal, and a shower with better water pressure than the usual geriatric-taking-their-midnight-piss nonsense that’s rife this side of the city.” He sucks long and hard on the cigarette, posture thoughtful, before releasing the smoke in a slow exhale. “Not necessarily in that order.”

Dick snorts. Maybe there’s more than just the one big difference. “That really something you wanna yell off the rooftops? Thought you were some big bad crime lord.”

“The fuck's that s'posed to mean, Big Bird?” Some might assume that toting around eight severed heads in a duffle bag once would make it hard to take the moral high ground on anything. Dick knows for a fact that Jason doesn’t really give a shit about either morals or the high ground but it doesn’t stop him from taking both and making them his bitch. “Think I’m weak for taking it up the ass? How ‘bout you dial back on the homophobia, you bigoted prick.”

It might be more impressive if Dick was a little less familiar with Jason and his rage. Jason doesn’t settle his actual grievances with his words. This is foreplay.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Little Wing. Got the best thighs this side of the equator. Ain’t nobody calling you weak, babe.”

“Don’t you forget it, asshole.”

Dick hums, lowering himself onto his back, arms stretched high above his head. There’s a weird serenity to being verbally abused by Jason as the Eastern sky is starting to brighten. The sound from the street feels distant and Jason feels so close, their thighs mere inches apart. When Dick lets his head rest on his arm, Jason’s broad shoulders fill up half his vision and he knows if he buries his nose between his shoulder blades it’ll smell of leather and smoke and sweat.

Jason twists his torso towards him. “Were you even listening, Fingerstripes? Just told you I want a cock up my ass before the night is through. Need me to grab a pen and a piece of paper and spell it out for you?” Jason gives a depreciating grunt. “And Daddy dares to say that you’re the smart one.”

“Jesus, Hood,” Dick teases. “Can’t tell if you’re trying to go for seductive or insulting.”

“Shows how shit your instincts are. I’m doing both. You turned on yet?”

Dick shrugs good-naturedly, arches his back and gives Jason the Grayson smile, blinding, crooked, winning. “Little bit.”

There’s another laugh, another smile. Another beautiful in Dick’s head. Then Jason’s lying down beside him, shoulders brushing, and voice bleeding a warm: “thought you would be, you big slut.”

When Jason finishes his cigarette he kills what’s left of it on the concrete. Wordlessly lights another. The new Zippo burns big and bright.

Dick lowers one arm, carefully drags his fingers across the busted knuckles of the hand holding the lighter. Sometimes, those hands will leave red streaks on Dick’s skin and Dick won’t know if the person it came from is still a person at all. And he thinks Jason painting him with blood should probably bother him more than it does. But it’s hard sometimes, between the night job and the day job and the things he sees during both. Between Bruce, who puts principles before people, and Jason, who puts people before Bruce, is Dick, who doesn’t want to choose between either, who wants to have both—but let’s Jason mark him up with the blood from Gotham’s criminals, anyway. So, maybe he’s made his choice.

"Make me a coffee tomorrow morning," Dick says, Jason's hand warm beneath his own. "With those fancy beans. From that specialty shop where they roast and grind the beans on the spot and you watch them like a hawk 'cause you're both anal and a snob."

"Just the coffee?"

"Just the coffee."

"You're one cheap fucking lay, Boy Blunder."

“Only for you,” Dick says. "The Bat family discount.” Dick wonders if there’s a little something special in those cigarettes when that doesn’t get him punted off the roof immediately. The vicious elbow stab to the gut seems rather mellow.

“Asshole,” Jason murmurs under his breath. The vitriol dripping off that single word makes Dick honest-to-God giggle, chest feeling light like flying.    

He thinks they’ll stay here a little longer. Maybe one or two more cigarettes—all Jason. Dick will smoke after. After the sex, and the shower and the sleeping and the coffee. Long after the morning is gone. When Dick has been stripped of his suit for hours and Jason the same for his mask and guns. Then Dick will sit naked in the afternoon sun on Jason’s windowsill, grab that Zippo and smoke.

One cigarette. Just then.

----------------

@wethatake I wrote a thing. Can you believe it? I sure can’t

[alcalavicci]

1988 interview with Dean. This is a really good one and helps bring more of his life into perspective. Note: the newspaper originally censored his swearing, but I’ve put it back.

Guthman, Edward. "Dean Stockwell: Third Time's a Charm." The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California), August 14, 1988.

“Six years ago, Dean Stockwell's acting career had turned to dust. Reduced to playing parts in unreleasable, made-in-Mexico movies that now make him cringe, Stockwell decided to chuck it all and get out of Hollywood.

“Along with his second wife, Joy, Stockwell moved to Santa Fe, settled down under the wide New Mexico sky and applied for a real estate license. He even placed an ad in Daily Variety to announce his exile: 'Dean Stockwell will help you with all your real estate needs in the new center of creative energy.'

“Stockwell never sold a house; he didn't need to. Instead, almost as soon as he'd relocated, things started happening to the former 1940s child star. It began with a small part in David Lynch's 'Dune,' and escalated with an important supporting role in Wim Wenders' highly regarded 'Paris, Texas.'

“Moving back to California to cash in on his fortune, Stockwell acted in 'Beverly Hills Cop II,' 'Gardens of Stone,' and 'To Live and Die in L.A.' He also played a cameo role, as Howard Hughes, in the newly released 'Tucker: The Man and His Dream.' And in 'Blue Velvet,' David Lynch's American nightmare, he delivered a chilling cameo as Ben, a waxlike, sexually ambiguous drug dealer.

“And now, at 52, Stockwell says he's found 'the favorite role I've had, by far.'

“The picture is 'Married to the Mob,' a dark, romantic comedy by Jonathan Demme ('Melvin and Howard,' 'Stop Making Sense') and Stockwell plays Mafia don Tony 'the Tiger' Russo. Wearing an Al Capone fedora and full-length vicuna coat, Tony is a rich, sardonic, larger-than-life character -- the kind Stockwell has never had a chance to play until now.

“Opening Friday at the Galaxy and UA the Movies, 'Married to the Mob' has been touted as Demme's first shot at a genuine box-office winner. Set in Long Island, New Jersey and Florida, it stars Michelle Pfeiffer as Angela DeMarco, a young Mafia wife who tries to start a new life when her husband, Frankie 'the Cucumber' DeMarco, is pumped full of lead during a hot-tub tryst at the Fantasia Motel.

“When Stockwell's character isn't ordering hits, drug deals and the dumping of toxic waste, he's lusting assiduously after the gorgeous widow. Meanwhile, bumbling FBI agent Mike Downey (played by Matthew Modine) is jumping through hoops trying to shadow Angela and 'catch Tony with his pants down.' Instead, he falls in love with Angela.

“During a recent luncheon interview, not far from his central California home, Stockwell spoke about the film, about his new happiness as the father of two children and about the bizarre trajectory of his long career. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and slacks, wearing a Panama hat and drawing first on a cigaret, later on a cigar, Stockwell emanates prosperity and calm.

“'I don't know why I was unemployed so long,' he says, reflecting on a fallow period that started in the '60s and lasted the better part of two decades. 'The only thing I can figure out in my own mind is that, for some reason or another, I was being made to wait until a certain time in my life when my talent would reach its full maturity and fruition.'

“Ironically, he says, he felt just as equipped 10 years ago to do the work he's doing now -- 'only I couldn't get fucking arrested.'

“Today, Stockwell sees harmony in the fact that his new success coincides with the arrival of two children. His son, Austin, will be 5 in November, and his daughter, Sophia, turns 3 this month. Inordinately proud and protective, he refuses to allow his children to be photographed, and also requests that the town in which he and his family reside not be named. (There were no children from his first marriage, to Millie Perkins, which lasted from 1960 to 1962.)

“'I want to make a lot of money and I want to put it away for my children,' he says. To that end, Stockwell has been snapping up job offers. 'A lot of people ask me, "How have you been able to choose these wonderful things you're doing? Have you been very selective?" And I have to tell them, "I haven't been choosing what I'm doing." Things have been coming and I've been accepting virtually anything that's come.'

“Stockwell's ambition is so great that, for the first time in his life, he actively pursues aspects of his career that he once shunned- interviews, for example.

“'My entire motivation in life is my family,' he says. 'I don't need to get an award. I don't need recognition. I've had that already. What I need is to provide. The best way I can provide is to be successful, and the best way I can be successful is to take advantage of all the things at my disposal to achieve that, one of which certainly is press.'

“Take a look at the young Stockwell, specifically the version that emerges from old magazine and newspaper interviews, and you meet another person altogether.

“Robbed of a normal childhood, Stockwell had made 22 films by the time he was 15 -- including 'The Boy with Green Hair,' 'Kim,' 'Anchors Aweigh,' and the Oscar-winning 'Gentleman's Agreement.' Working nonstop, he had a privileged life that millions of children probably envied, but he loathed it nonetheless.

“The son of show-business parents -- his father, Harry Stockwell, was the voice of the Prince in 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,' and his mother, Betty Veronica, was a former stage dancer -- Stockwell made his professional debut at 7. It all happened by a fluke: when Stockwell accompanied his older brother, Guy, on a Broadway audition, the casting director took a liking to both boys, and cast each one. The play, aptly enough, was called 'Innocent Voyage,' and it led to an MGM contract for curly-haired Dean.

“From the beginning, the pressure on young Stockwell was intense. His parents had divorced when he was 6, and when his father defaulted on child-support payments, Dean reluctantly became the family provider. Over a six-year period, he averaged three to four films per year.

“At home, he says, 'There was a lot of friction... I was getting all the attention, but I hated it. [Guy] couldn't appreciate that, because he wasn't getting the attention. He had all these friends, his peer group, that he took for granted. I had none and I resented him for being able to live that way. I was fucking lonely.'

“When he was 13, chained to a seven-year contract, Stockwell was described by one magazine as 'a young rebel who despises acting and resents every moment it takes from his fleeting boyhood.' Many years later, Stockwell told columnist Hedda Hopper, 'Child actors exist in a sort of limbo between childhood and maturity and belong to neither. Adults take them too seriously and other children are either awed or hostile. A child actor can find friends in neither group.'

“Finally, Stockwell fled Hollywood when he was 16. He cut off his curly locks, started using his real name, Robert Stockwell, and for the next five years roamed the country, working menial jobs and disavowing his true identity. 'People that might have known me from seeing my films knew me as a young child,' he remembers. 'Now I was 17 and I wasn't that recognizable.'

“Around the time of his 21st birthday, Stockwell was pushing papers as mail boy to a Manhattan plumbing firm. 'Of all the jobs that I'd had in those intervening years,' he remembers. 'I think I hated that worse than anything. I came to the realization I had no training at anything. My primary education was very skimpy, very poor, and happened under the worst type of conditions. I was literally at the mercy of the world.'

“Most of Stockwell's childhood earnings were squandered by crooked accountants, he says, and he knew that the tiny sum being held in a trust wouldn't last forever. 'So I thought, "What am I gonna do? Well, let's go back and attack this [acting career] again, and see if I can do it a little more on my terms."'

“What followed for Stockwell was a brief but impressive 'second career.' He starred in the 1959 film 'Compulsion,' based on the Leopold-Loeb case of the '20s, and won a joint acting award with Orson Welles and Bradford Dillman at the Cannes Film Festival. He played the lead in the 1960 film of D. H. Lawrence's 'Sons and Lovers,' and in 1962 scored the plum role of Edmund Tyrone in Sidney Lumet's film version of 'Long Day's Journey Into Night,' holding his own alongside Katharine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson and Jason Robards.

“Stockwell was winning the best parts, but found his attention drifting elsewhere. What was happening, he says, were the first signs of the '60s youth revolution. 'It captured my imagination as much as anybody's. And it represented to me -- I can see this in retrospect -- something in childhood that I had missed: the freedom and loving being alive, without responsibilities and work and having to report to the studio every day, and deal with fans and interviews and shit that I hated when I was a kid.'

“So Stockwell called his agent, said, 'I'm not workin',' and dropped out once again. When he tried to come back three years later, though, 'I found it very difficult, 'cause I'd been out-of-sight, out-of-mind.' What followed was a long period of marginal employment: He found some TV work, took parts in low-budget trash ('The Dunwich Horror') and occasional oddities (Dennis Hopper's 'The Last Movie') and co-directed a film with musician Neil Young ('Human Highway') but often just didn't work at all. At one point, he went 18 months without a job.

“Today, along with his buddy Hopper, Stockwell is enjoying a major career renaissance. And with his starring role in 'Married to the Mob,' he says, he's never felt more confident.

“'I knew before I started the film that this character was going to work in spades,' he says, adding that Demme, as director, deserves credit for taking a risk with such offbeat casting. Instead of picking Peter Falk, Vincent Gardenia or another ethnically identified actor to play the Mafia don, he went with Stockwell (who is actually half-Italian on his mother's side).

“Demme's inspiration occurred on a flight from Los Angeles to New York, when he opened a copy of the Hollywood Reporter. Stockwell had just changed agents, and in order to announce the fact, had taken out a full-page ad. Demme saw the picture, and instantly recognized his Tony.

“Weirdly enough, Stockwell made another film immediately prior to 'Married to the Mob': a Canadian feature called 'Palais Royale,' due for an October release, in which he plays a character almost identical to Tony Russo.

“'It's very curious,' he says. 'For all my years I'd never had a role like this come my way, and here it was twice. The Mafia don in New York, the Mafia don in Toronto, both of them colorful and charming and also threatening. And I just thought, "What am I gonna do? It's the same character." So I decided to do the same character in both those movies.'

“To take the coincidence 'one nauseating step further,' Stockwell says he's also got a part in the recently completed 'Backtrack,' Hopper's next film. This time he plays a corrupt mob lawyer, dropping the Italian accent for a generalized East Coast sound.

“It would be difficult to find a film actor who's busier than Stockwell at this moment. And it would be difficult to find anyone whose job history better illustrates the vicissitudes, serendipities and insecurity of a Hollywood career.

“Looking back on his misfortunes -- at the career that he was forced to accept as a child, and the humiliation he felt when he couldn't maintain it as an adult -- Stockwell says he's not bitter. 'When you reach your maturity, I think it behooves you to accept the fact that it's absolutely futile and fruitless even to speculate on changing anything in your life. All you can do is get embittered. So I accept everything that's happened as part of my life, and try to push it in a positive direction from the moment right now.'”

[foreverlogical]

As much of the political world went into an uproar over Donald Trump floating the idea of delaying the November election, inside the president’s orbit, his Thursday morning tweet suggesting just that was seen as something far narrower and more strategically focused.The president isn’t really trying to delay the vote. He is trying to preemptively delegitimize the likely results.Two administration officials and another individual close to the president say that what they saw Thursday morning was the most recent tantrum—“frustration,” as one of the officials put it—of a president in search of a scapegoat in case he’s denied a second term. None of these sources said they were aware of any serious effort to trample the clear constitutional guidelines and delay a presidential election.“He is terrified of losing this one,” said the person close to Trump. “I have heard him say more times than I can count how insane it would be to live in a country where the people could possibly prefer this guy, Joe Biden, over [the president] and think that this buffoon could be a better leader than Trump.”Asked at his press conference Thursday about the tweet, Trump said “it doesn’t need much explanation” before launching into a lengthy assertion of claims that there would be widespread fraud in the election due to the use of mail-in ballots, relying heavily on reports of delays and irregularities in New York City’s primaries. “I just feel, I don’t want to delay, I want to have the election. But I also don’t wanna have to wait for three months and then find out the ballots are all missing and the election doesn't mean anything,” said the president. “That’s whats gonna happen… smart people know it. Stupid people may not know it.” “Do I want to see a change? No,” said Trump, when pressed on whether he actually meant to change the election’s date or if he meant to sow doubt in the outcome. “I don’t want to see a crooked election.”Will Trump’s Voter-Fraud Rage Backfire?Even if Trump’s tweet about delaying an election—an act for which an army of legal scholars noted Trump lacks the authority—was just a bluff, it underscored a reality that isn’t much more reassuring: The president and his allies have been busy for months sowing doubt about the credibility of an outcome in which Trump isn’t the victor. And they’ve done so through increasingly baseless, self-serving means, including by directing tens of millions of dollars in advertising, multipronged legal action, and nonstop messaging, towards attacking the practice of voting by mail.On Thursday, following the president’s morning tweets, Trump’s lieutenants made clear that that was Team Trump’s primary concern: turning voting-by-mail, a well-established and fairly common practice in American elections, into a convenient bogeyman. “The president is just raising a question about the chaos Democrats have created with their insistence on all mail-in voting,” alleged Hogan Gidley, the Trump campaign’s national press secretary. “They are using coronavirus as their means to try to institute universal mail-in voting, which means sending every registered voter a ballot whether they asked for one or not.”Across town on Capitol Hill, the president hitting the send button on the Thursday tweet sparked a time-honored reaction: Republicans ducking and claiming they didn’t see it. For those who copped to looking, nearly all pointed out that Trump lacked the authority to follow through on his presumed threat. Others suggested he was merely joking. “I don’t know how else to interpret it,” Sen. John Cornyn (R-TX) told The Daily Beast. “All you guys in the press, your heads will explode and you’ll write about it.”But on the question of whether Trump’s words served to sow discord over the trustworthiness of the election, a familiar split developed, with lawmakers close to the president validating his stated concerns about mail-in ballots, and his critics expressing fear that Trump’s tweet was posted in earnest. Asked if she was concerned that Trump’s tweet would undermine public trust in the election, Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-AK) quickly said yes. “I think that we should all be working to shore up the faith in our electoral system,” Murkowski said.And Sen. Marco Rubio (R-FL), acting chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, which has formally warned against undermining trust in U.S. elections, told The Daily Beast he wished Trump hadn’t said what he did. “He can suggest whatever he wants,” Rubio added. “We're going to have an election, it's going to be legitimate, it's going to be credible.”Even a co-founder of the conservative Federalist Society expressed horror at Trump’s tweet. “Until recently, I had taken as political hyperbole the Democrats’ assertion that President Trump is a fascist. But this latest tweet is fascistic and is itself grounds for the president’s immediate impeachment again by the House of Representatives and his removal from office by the Senate,” Steven Calabresi wrote in an op-ed for The New York Times. Fox News Analyst: Trump’s Election Tweet a ‘Flagrant Expression of His Current Weakness’Many Republicans were content to sidestep questions about the impact of Trump’s words on the public’s trust in elections. Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-SC) responded by saying that Trump was raising legitimate concerns about mail-in voting. But he also expressed confidence in the electoral process. “I feel like we’ll be ready to go in November, and we’ll have a free and fair election,” said Graham.While Trump’s main objective may have been to seed doubts about the outcome of the election, the fact that he expressed it shows the erosion of bulwarks against authoritarianism, according to lawyers and scholars. They warned that those safeguards depend in large part on Republican condemnation. The fact that they weren’t, said Jason Stanley, a Yale philosophy professor, poses an urgent threat to U.S. political stability, particularly as Trump “surges” federal agents into what he describes as Democratic-controlled cities against protesters he conflates with terrorists. “Republican leaders have to denounce this. Trump is testing the waters, like he always does,” said Stanley. “The worry is that after multiple presidential elections in which the minority party won and governed in a way untethered from its electoral support, American democracy is seriously challenged.” Legal scholars agree that the law provides no authority to the president to delay an election, but instead leaves that power in the hands of Congress. In 2014, a Congressional Research Service report assessed the prospect of delaying an election due to a “sufficiently calamitous” terrorist attack. It concluded that while the Executive Branch held “significant delegated authority regarding some aspects of election law, this authority does not currently extend to setting or changing the times of elections.”But the Trump years have provided routine lessons about the fragility of American institutions as bulwarks against authoritarianism. Jameel Jaffer, executive director of Columbia University’s Knight First Amendment Institute, said that beyond the illegality of delaying the election, it was significant that Trump believed he possessed the power to delay it. “There’s a difference between saying, ‘He’s not allowed to do this’ and saying, ‘He won’t do it,’” Jaffer said. “That’s what’s most disturbing here, not the possibility they come up with a colorable argument, but that the president will act in spite of the absence of any colorable legal argument.” A Justice Department spokesperson did not reply to a query about any recent guidance its Office of Legal Counsel has offered on the issue. During Tuesday testimony to the House Judiciary Committee, Attorney General William Barr said he had “never looked into” whether the president could override statutes establishing the date of the presidential election. Barr also demurred when asked if he committed the department to noninterference in a contested election outcome, saying merely, “I will follow the law.” Several prominent Trump allies—including some of his chummiest advisers and most hardened legal defenders—dismissed the notion that he could or would push the election back. In a brief phone conversation, celebrity attorney and Harvard Law figure Alan Dershowitz, a member of the defense team during Trump’s impeachment trial, said, “The answer is clear: only Congress can change the date of the election. A president doesn't have the authority… Of course, any citizen has the right to ask Congress to make a change, but I can’t imagine that they would do that.”But others close to the president kept the door propped conspicuously open. Testifying on Thursday morning, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, an attorney, said about presidential authority to delay an election, “In the end, the Department of Justice, others will make that determination.” Stanley, who authored the book How Fascism Works, said the presence of federal law enforcement in American cities rendered it “a dangerous time” for Trump to “raise doubts about the election in case he loses.” He noted that in Portland, agents from the Justice Department and the Department of Homeland Security “went and did what Trump wanted them to do” while using the language of counterterrorism and counterinsurgency to justify suppressing protesters.  Vigilante violence tied to the election is also possible in the event that Trump disputes the outcome. Armed accelerationist elements like the Boogaloo Bois, a meme-turned-militant movement, seek a civil war or a race war. In Louisville over the weekend, opposing armed militias assembled at a rally for Breonna Taylor but avoided violence. Historically, “it’s very familiar when you have a militarized force used to going after foreign enemies and then allowed to operate domestically to separate citizens from noncitizens, and now the worry is they’ll be sent against protesters and demonstrators, and all of this is worrisome ahead of the election,” Stanley said. “Unfortunately, this is on the Republican Party, and unfortunately, the Republican Party has not been acting like a party in a democracy for quite some time.” Read more at The Daily Beast.Get our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.

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[batfamily-trash]

Dangerous Love

Could you do a imagine of batboys falling in love/having a crush on a villain (crush/love is mutual)? please

a/n: About two are not full on villains sooo, yeah. Requests/asks are open. You want to be tagged? Send me an ask!

Αγάπη μου = Greek for ‘My love’

Dick Grayson:

Diamonds were your weakness. Not because of their worth but because of their uses. People underestimate the use of diamonds. You would steal them to make diamond blades for your knives and diamond bullets. Why? Simply because they were stronger. The stronger your weapon the better. The only problem was that you had accumulated quite a record over the years, and you also caught the attention of a certain Boy Wonder.

The same year Nightwing decided to show up in Bludhaven was the same year you began your mini-crusade of killing bad guys. And he did not like that. The first two weeks after you popped up and he managed to catch you was spent on fighting. The next three months were spent on fighting and flirting. The rest were spent on flirting.

It was amusing, especially when he would get visitors from Gotham. His siblings wondered why he wouldn’t just arrest you, but after spending a whole hour around you they understood why. Honestly, if you weren’t all up for stealing diamonds you would’ve been kidnapped into the batfamily. Built during that time you developed a crush on him and he developed one for you. That wasn’t good for either of you.

After a new villain showed up in town he asked you for help and you accepted. Best mistake ever. Mistake because you fell even more in love with that idiot. At the end of the mission, the both of you confessed your obvious love for each other and everything was good in the world. Well kinda, Damian doesn’t like you one bit but who cares. Not you two.    

Jason Todd:

Honestly, you had one of the best and worst jobs in the world. The best because you had an empire. The worst because cops were always on your a**. Not only were the cops on your a**, but vigilantes and so-called heroes were always trying to catch doing something crooked. What were you? A crime lord. In Gotham City. Not the best place to be a mob boss right now.

You’ve had multiple encounters with the Bat himself, but your favorite encounters were with Red Hood. No matter how many times he’s had to take a shot and kill you, he just wouldn’t. That goes for you too. The both of you would ‘crash’ into each other, yell, threaten, actually shoot but miss on purpose. Was it love?

You thought it was just him annoying you. You didn’t believe in love, not after the time the boy you thought you loved broke your heart. And Jay? What did he think it was? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he ‘likes’ you very much. He even asked you out. You thought he was joking until you actually showed up and he was at the destination holding a bouquet of flowers.

Multiple dates ensued. Eventually, all good thing must come to an end. Batman found out about you and Jay dating and he put a stop to it. The both of you went back to being enemies, but that didn’t stop either of you.

Tim Drake:

What do you call computer hacking? A hobby you shouldn’t engage into, but still do anyway! You were what you called yourself a “cyber hero” or something like that. You would hack into rich people’s accounts and either keep it or donate it. Which is why you should consider what you call yourself. Red Robin also thinks that.

You crashed into Red Robin when he was still… Robin. You were trying to hack into Wayne Enterprises cause rumors were flying around that Mr. Bruce Wayne was hiding something of value, and Lex Luthor was willing to pay anyone who could get him the thing.  You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize Tim hacking into your server. When you did notice he was already getting access to your laptop’s camera.

You still haven’t forgiven him to this day. He figured out your location and your identity, but you also found out his so… yeah. Over the years, you and Timmy Turner would have mini cyber fights that other hackers found interesting. I mean there’s a website on the black web dedicated to placing bets on who was going to win/lose and if you two would end up together. Lex and Bruce were also betting.      

You had to admit you had some….. Special feelings for Double R. And he returned those feelings. The two of you would have been together two weeks after your first encounter but Tim was too worried about Bruce approving and he was still with Steph, and you weren’t one to do relationships. It’s just a little crush, right?

Damian Wayne:

As a child, you were trained to feel no emotions, no feelings, nada. So when your boss introduced you to her kid you had to admit he was cute. Then again you were kids. Damian, on the other hand, thought of you as an annoyance but as the years passed the both of you developed feelings for each other. These feelings were foreign to you.

An attack happened and Damian was sent to live with his father. That still didn’t stop your feelings for him or his for you. Six years later, on a mission in Gotham, you crashed into a certain birdie. Obviously, you knew who he was but he didn’t know about you or the mission so you decided to tease him for a bit. After a while, he caught on to your little game and the tables turned.

  Five minutes later, you were pinned to the wall and Damian’s face was an inch away from yours. Oops.

“You know n/n your fighting style hasn’t changed since we were kids,” Damian said taking your mask off.

“How would you know, Αγάπη μου? We haven’t even fought,” you said leaning in. Just as you two were about to kiss, someone showed up.

“Ahem, last time I checked we arrested the bad guys not kiss them,” Tim said taking out his bo staff.

You rolled your eyes and softly pushed Damian away from you, “Tell that to Catwoman and Batman. I’ll be seeing you soon Αγάπη μου.” With that, you ran off the roof and left behind a confused Red Robin and an extremely flustered Robin.

“Uh, why did she call you ‘my love’?” Tim asked.

“None of your business Drake!”

“I hope you realize she just killed a guy…”

“Dammit, Drake I know!”

[leelee10898]

Chikara: Itami (4/?)

Summary: Ellie has been saved, but how will the events of the attack effect her? Meanwhile in California, the brotherhood makes another move. The word Itami, roughly translates to pain.

Catch up HERE. As always if you'd like added to the tags, let me know. Also I apologize in advance, tumblr apparently hates the read more feature stil....

Raiting: Mature. Series contains Violence, language, death and Lemons..

Compton, California….

Ximena slipped out to her red SUV, she had it painted to try to throw the brotherhood off her trail. The night Jason was arrested she took off for Compton. An old friend had a house she could crash and lay low for a while, the only person who knew her whereabouts was Colt. With him showing up she would need to put some effort in relocating again, keeping the trail Cold. A quick trip to the 24 hour market for some groceries and she was headed back to her safe house. Not a soul in sight she slowed to a stop at the sign and signaled right. Suddenly a car with no lights came out of nowhere plowing into her car, sending it spinning around 3 times before coming to a stop.  

[[MORE]]

Ximena hit her head on the window, her body jostled around from the collision. She tried to turn the engine over to no avail. Fuck she growled, reaching for her baseball batt she kept tucked away in the back seat. She could make out two figures stepping out of the vehicle  behind her. She quickly assessed her surroundings, her only vantage point was her car stopped crooked, her passenger side a blind spot. She carefully climbed into the passenger seat, quietly opening the door and slipping out.

"Hester warned us about her, she's tough. Stay alert." She heard one of them say as she stayed hidden in the shadows. Come on. Come on. Just a little closer. she thought to herself. "The doors open, she's gone. Check the alley." The other man spoke, as she heard footsteps approaching. Lucky for her, he passed by where she was standing. Once he turned to leave she jumped out from behind the dumpster, swinging the bat at the man, he hit the ground with a thud. She took off running towards her car, the other man on her tail. He lunged at her, grabbing her waist. He was larger than her, not giving her much advantage she struggled against the man finally wriggling free. "You son of a bitch." She swung her arm, the man ducking and landing a blow to her side.

Ximena clutched her side, fire raging through her veins, "big mistake asshole." She reached out grabbing the thug by this neck, bringing her free hand up to punch him in the jaw. The man struggled against her as She backed him up against the wall, pushing him up against it with force, knocking him out cold.  Rushing to her car she climbed in the passenger side, settling behind the wheel. "Come on. Come on." She grunted turning the key, as the engine sputtered. She noticed the other man emerging from the alley way, wielding a baseball bat. Finally the engine roared to life, the man jumped in front of the car, ximena clipped him with the passenger side,  sending him flying backwards.

She picked up her phone, frantically searching for a number.  "Colt. Its ximena, i'm on my way to you.. and your plan, I want in."

New York……

Ellie laid in the hospital bed, still unconscious. The nurses and doctors had left the room, leaving only Nick and her. After answering numerous questions by hospital staff and the cops, he was finally given permission to see her. When Ellie told him she was leaving the party, he was so caught up in the fact she put him in the friendzone, then worry about her safety. After a moment to compose himself, he mentally reprimanded himself for allowing a beautiful girl like herself to walk home alone, and so he set out to trail behind her. He only found her as she darted into a dead end alley, a figure following behind her. By the time he had reached her, she laid barely conscious as he grabbed the assailant off of her, and beat him until he passed out. He called 911 reporting the incident, and Ellie and the assailant were taken to the hospital.  

He was able to get into her phone and give the hospital her dads number. His memory reaching back to the image on her wallpaper, the boy with the leather jacket, dark hair and eyes, his arm wrapped around her waist. He knew he must have been something special to her, the fact made him a little jealous.  He stood next to her bed "Ellie, I need you to wake up. I need you to be ok." He spoke as he noticed her hand started to move. Slowly she opened her eyes, an audible gasp escaped her as she began to panic. "Ellie. Ellie, hey its ok you're ok." She looked over to Nick, relief and confusion on her face. "Nick? Where. Where am I? She whispered. "You're at the hospital, do you remember what happened?" She nodded her head, lifting her arm that was free from wires and iv lines to the back of her head.

"The brotherhood." She whispered.  Nick snapped his head to look at her "what did you say?" A nurse walked in "oh miss wheeler, glad you're awake. Im Nadia, I'll be the nurse taking care of you." She walked over assessing her. "Well everything looks good, however they do want to keep you overnight for observation. And there is a couple police officers who would like to speak to you." Ellie nodded as the nurse left the room, a minute later tow officers walked in.

"Hello miss Wheer, im officer grubbs. This is officer Davis" he motioned to the man standing next to him.  "we would like to ask you a few questions about what happened."

Ellie began to tell them how she had left a party to walk home by herself, when she was followed and cornered in an alley and then attacked by the man. "I see, and do you know the person who attacked you, had you ever seen him before?" Ellie shook her head "No. He said that Jason Shaw sent him to get rid of me. I have never seen him before tonight."

Officer Davis approached her "Had you been drinking at this party?" Ellie looked at the officer shocked.  "I had one cup of punch, hours before I left the party."

"So you're saying your judgment could be clouded by Alcohol consumption. " Davis smirked slightly.

"No. I'm saying that man followed me into an alley with every intention to kill me." Ellie bagam to tear up, frustrated by the turn of events.

"Kill is such a strong word. Were there any witnesses? The way we're told is you two have a history and your jealous boyfriend here stepped in while he was trying to save you."

"Davis!" Officer Grubbs warned.

"No. That's not what happened at all. I don't know him." Ellie sobbed.

Nick stood up from his chair "Hey, that asshole was attacking my friend.  He's the one you should be grilling, not Ellie."

Davis laughed out "ok casanova, calm yourself."

"I'm sorry miss wheeler if this had upset you. I have your statement, he will see a closed circuit judge." Grubbs spoke with a soothing voice.

"What. What will happen to him?" Davis gave her a  wicked smirk, Grubbs more sympathetic.

"He will be charged with assault, however he already has someone trying to post bail."

"B- bail? No. No no no, He's working for the brotherhood. Jason Shaw sent him to kill me. Check the FBIs wanted list, you cant let him go." Ellie sobbed out.

Davis gave her a smirk and walked out the door, in that moment she knew he was in their pocket. Grubbs walked up placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Im sorry Ellie, the best advice I can give you is to file a no contact order against him. I wish there was more we could hold him on." He gave her a sad smile and walked out the door.

Ellie began to panic, Jason wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted, revenge on her for taking him down. "My dad. I need to call my dad." She tried to get out of bed. "Hey, hey calm down Ellie. The hospital called your dad, he's on his way here." Nick assured her as he wrapped his arms around her small shaking frame. "Ellie, it's going to be ok. It's all going to be ok." Nick assured her in a soothing voice, calming her down. Something about the way he spoke was so familiar and she realized it was the same reassuring, soft tone Colt took with her it made her heart ache.

They sat there like that for a while, until the nurse came in telling them they were moving Ellie to a bed in the main hospital and Nick had to leave. That night Ellie struggled to find a good night's sleep, she tossed and turned until exhaustion took over.

Jason looked at her,  a maniacal smile that bared his teeth, chilling her to the bone. "I told you Ellie, Do as I say and nobody gets hurt. It's a shame you didn't listen."  Colts limp body sat hunched over in the chair, clinging between life and death. She tried to scream but her voice failed her, instead she sobbed out a pleading cry as he sauntered over to Colt. "Please. Please no." She managed to get out. "Such a sweet, innocent little thing still.  To bad that delicate skin is going to be your undoing. Say bye bye to lover boy." Jason lifted his hand pulling the trigger.

"Colt….." she Jerked up in bed, screaming as a constant flow of tears streamed her face. She looked around the room,  still in the hospital, alone. No Jason, no Colt, just her completely and utterly alone. The events of the past day wearing her down, He was supposed to keep her safe,  he told her going to Langston would keep her safe and it didn't. He failed to keep her safe, and he failed to do what he promised he would, Love her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft rapp at the door. A petite brunette nurse peeked her head in. "Ellie, Its early and we usually don't allow visitors at this hour, but someone wants to see you." Her eyes landed on her dad, he quickly crossed the room throwing his arms around her.  "Oh Ellie. Oh thank god you're ok." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Im ok. She flinched, her body sore from the attack. "If something happened to you Ellie, I don't. I don't know what I would do."

"Im alive." Her tone with a hint of harshness to it. She was angry at Colt for his failed promises,  it wasn't until her father came that she realized she was angry at him too.

"What's wrong Ellie? You seem a little angry." Her dad pulled back, sensing her tone. She sat there, silent for a moment he expression unreadable. "Why didn't you tell me Jason wasn't in jail?"

Her dad, caught off guard by her question doubled back. "Ellie…"

"Dad! Why didn't you tell me?" She demanded.  She was angry, much more than she thought.

"I. Was just trying to protect you." His voice soft, maybe a hint of shame in it.

"Right, because I'm this delicate little flower that everyone thinks cant handle the tough stuff." She scoffed.

"I wanted you to focus on school. The farther you were from this, the safer. " her father reached for her hand, she pulled it back quickly. "Well, look how well that worked out." She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty tired dad. I think im going to get some rest. You should go get some sleep too. I'll see you later."  Her dad looked at her with a sadness that screamed heartbreak but he nodded anyway. "Ok. Get some sleep, I love you Ellie." He leaned over giving her a soft kiss. "Love you too, dad."

Once the door closed she tossed herself on the bed.  Jason's words from her dream running through her head. Too bad that delicate skin is going to be your undoing. She was soft, everyone seen her as a softie who needed saving, who couldn't get the job done. She was weak, meaningless and useless and that had to change. As she laid there she felt the darkness creep over, no longer would she be weak, useless, the girl who always needed saving. She wouldn't allow Jason to pull her puppet strings anymore.  he was going down once and for all, and she was going to be the one to do it. No matter what it took.

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[builder051]

Mike & Co story arc: part 1

This is going to be a 5-parter?  Maybe?  Something like that.  Nowhere near as long as Hildur and Pierce’s storyline, but still decently extended.  The episodes will move among different characters’ POV, and Mike, Jason, Colby, Ash, and Hannah will all be included.  There will be a little bit of illness/emeto, but it’s going to be mainly plot.

WARNING FOR EATING DISORDER CONTENT.  It kind of features in this part, but it’s going to be vague and kind of glossed over throughout because it’s not the main focus of this arc, but it’s definitely a thing that affects all of these charas, whether directly or indirectly.

Also, a warning for an obscene amount of cursing.  This girl is by far my most foul-mouthed character.

_____

Everything’s fine.  Everything is completely and totally fine.  Her grades are good.  She’s not being forced to go home for spring break.  There’s plenty of new stuff to watch on Netflix.  So why Mike goes into the 7-11 and buys out a display of Hostess Cupcakes is beyond her.  Nothing’s weighing on her mind.  She hasn’t been in a fight.  The urge just hits like a ton of bricks and she’s suddenly powerless.

She hasn’t done this in months, and maybe that’s why she’s so out of practice in saying no to herself.  Mike holds the plastic shopping bag in the crook of her elbow and swallows the first cupcake in two bites.  She reaches in for another, and self-hatred flares up in her ribcage.  That feeling’s more familiar.

Mike finishes the sweets by the time she finishes the walk to the campus.  She crumples the shopping bag and lobs it into the trash outside the humanities building, then shoves inside.  It’s after five on a Friday, so the hallways are deserted.  That’s a good thing.

Mike pauses to take a long drink from the water fountain, then ducks into the bathroom to get down to business.  She feels weird and shaky and a little guilty to be doing this again after being clean for so long.  But post-purge guilt still beats holding onto the calories.

It’s like riding a bike; the technique comes back quickly, and Mike’s at the sink washing up within minutes.  Her eyes are read and teary, and they’ll probably stay that way for half an hour or so.  At least she’s on a college campus, so she can blame smoking pot.

She dries her hands with a paper towel, then uses it to wipe her mouth.  Now that the deed’s done, she’s exhausted.  The tremor she felt earlier has crept permanently into arms and legs, and she knows it won’t go away until she falls asleep or eats something for real.  And that’s definitely not going to happen any time soon.

Mike wants to go home.  There’s no reason to loiter around campus anymore; her classes are all done for break.  She can practically hear her bed calling from across town.  Some music, some TV.  Maybe a little ibuprofen/Unisom cocktail.  That sounds nice.

But Jason and Colby are probably home.  They are more often than not, and it’s way too early for them to have retired to the bedroom.  They’re probably sitting at the kitchen table right now, wondering where the fuck she is, because that’s all they seem to do.  If she wants them to stay out of her business, she can’t go home yet.

Mike considers sending out an exploratory text message, a simple hey what are you doing?  But if anything’s going to get her caught, it’s that.  She never initiates contact.

Mike shoves her phone deep into her pocket and starts a circuit around the campus.  If she goes out behind the Humanities building and walks the paved loop around most of the main thoroughfare, she’ll kill an hour and another couple hundred calories.  Mike wraps her arms around her midsection and slaps her feet hard against the sidewalk.

She wishes she could refocus, just snap her fingers and immediately place some other fixation in her brain, at least temporarily.  Bile and chocolate still coat her back teeth, and Mike isn’t sure if she’s disgusted or thrilled.  She wishes she had a cigarette.  But it’s cold and windy out, and it probably wouldn’t stay lit anyway.  Just like she can’t stay normal.  

“Why’d you do that?” Mike spits under her breath.  “Why’d you fucking do that?”

She can’t come up with a good answer.  She just felt like it.  She gave in.  She fucked up.

If she was talking to Colby, he’d say it was ok.  It’s ok to fuck up and have a setback.  She can just try to do better tomorrow.

Mike guesses she can.  But it doesn’t make her any less stupid today.

Jason would tell it like it is.  He’d give Mike a good disappointed head-shake and tell her to go fuck herself.  Or just eat food like a normal person and not throw it back up.

Then she’d ask him how he knew what normal people did.  The possibility of an argument would be too good to resist.

“You don’t know what normal people do either,” Mike huffs to herself.  “Not everybody thrives on conflict like you, bitch.”

She would’ve clocked herself in the face with that comment if the choice had been anywhere near logical.  The desire to hit something is rising fast.  There’s a dilapidated storage shed coming up a few feet off the path, and Mike steps onto the soggy grass and slams her fist into the dented door.  It produces a hollow sound, and the whole shack seems to shudder even though the punch is weak.

Something perks up in Mike’s brain as adrenaline starts to flow, and she hits the door again.  She assumes a sloppy boxing stance and jabs right and left and right again.  Her knuckles start to hurt, and somehow that makes her laugh.  She switches to battering the door with the heel of her hand.  It creaks as if it’s going to give way under Mike’s meager strength, and in her mind, it’s fucking hilarious.

If she manages to break down the door, is there going to be some kind of junker lawn mower inside?  Mike’s suddenly keen to find out.  The pseudo-boxing match is making her tired, so she readjusts and rams the door with her shoulder.  Pain lances down her arm and across her back.  She’s too bony to throw her weight around without hurting herself.  But it doesn’t keep her from trying again.

Mike backs up a foot or so and throws her hip and elbow into the shed.  She feels something give way, and she knows she’ll only need to smack the thing another couple more times to force the door open.  She takes a second to catch her breath and swallow bitter saliva before she puts her back into it again.

“Hey!  What are you doing?  That’s university property!”

Mike looks over her shoulder to see two campus police officers hurrying toward her.  “Fuck,” she mumbles.  She should run for it.  But she’s so close to forcing the shed open.  She doesn’t want to stop.  She can’t stop.

Mike butts the side of her body into the door one more time, and the latch breaks off the door with a crunch.  She falls sideways as the door swings open under her, but before she hits the ground, one of the officers has his hand wrapped around her arm.  “What do you think you’re doing?” he barks.

She got the door open, but it’s not like it proved anything.  Now she’s stuck here with two cops, and she might have been committing a crime.  She has a feeling explaining the truth is going to get her nowhere.  I had to do something to distract myself from the fact that I’d just broken a 4-month clean streak from my eating disorder probably isn’t going to hold water with the police.  Like she’d willingly speak those words anyway.

So she does the next worst thing she can think of.  Mike draws her free arm back and aims a punch at the officer’s jaw.

“Whoa, calm down,” the other cop says, moving his hands in a shushing motion.  “We just want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” Mike grunts.  She manages to get her feet under her.  The officer holding her arm doesn’t have much on her in height, but he’s heavy.  His belt and tucked-in shirt hold a substantial beer gut.  She bets he hits the Hostess cupcakes pretty hard too.  Mike can barely look at him without being disgusted.  She gathers her remaining strength and socks him in the stomach.

“Ma’am, I need you to put both hands up.”  The fat officer tries to manhandle her around to face the shed’s outer wall.

“Let me go,” Mike grunts.  “Don’t touch me.”  She continues to struggle.

“We just wanted to have a chat,” the other cop says, reaching for Mike’s flailing hand.  He has red hair like Ash, and the thought of her old friend makes her want to knock him to the ground.  She doesn’t have a reason to hate this officer.  She doesn’t have a reason to hate Ash, either.  But the violent feelings don’t stop coming.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”  Mike thrashes her body, and the fat cop’s arm comes around her waist.  He isn’t holding her tightly, but panic strobes in her brain, and she feels sick.  She wants to run.

“You want to get booked for resisting arrest?” The red-headed officer asks.

“I don’t want anything to do with anything,” Mike spits.  Her head is growing foggy.  The peeling paint on the outside of the shed blurs before her eyes.  One ear is about ten times heavier than the other, and she tilts badly to one side.

“Stand up straight.  Put your hands behind your head,” The fat cop says.  “This is the last time I’m gonna ask.”

Mike might’ve complied.  Or maybe she wouldn’t’ve.  She doesn’t get the chance to decide, though, because vertigo suddenly takes precedence, and she doubles over to retch against the wall.

“Hey, alright.”  The fat cop lets go of Mike’s stomach and grips her by the back of her shirt instead.  “This for real or are you just playing?”

Mike gags and manages to choke, “I’m fine.  Leave me alone.”  She takes one stumbling step away from the officers and almost falls.  She claws at the side of the shed to hold herself upright.

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.  You can sit down, cool off a little,” the red-head offers.  He puts his hand on Mike’s shoulder in a way that’s half-comforting and half-threatening.  She jerks away and covers her mouth with her hand.  She throws up anyway, and it’s mostly chocolate mixed with some snot and bile.

“Fuck.”  She thought she’d gotten it all back up.

“Ma’am?”

“Shut the fuck up.  I’m not going with you!”  The force of shouting makes Mike lightheaded, and she stumbles again.

“Are you going to faint?”  The cops look at each other.

“Just leave me alone,” Mike mumbles.  The words are getting harder to form.  Her vision swirls, and it only makes the dizziness worse.

“We’re gonna get you some medical attention, ok?”  The fat cop puts his arm around her waist while the other one talks into a walkie-talkie.  Mike catches the wordambulance.

“Don’t take me…” she chokes out.  They can’t take her to the hospital.  They can’t.  She won’t stand for it.  She’ll run away.  She’ll let Jason drive her home.  “Call my brother.”

“We’ll call him when we get to the ER,” the red-headed officer reassures.  “They’ll help you out with whatever’s going on or whatever you took.  Then we’ll get in touch with your family…”

Mike wants to burst out laughing again.  They think she’s high.  She wishes she was high.  But she’s already out of her mind and her eyes are red, so there’s probably little difference.

“Fuck you.  I’m alright.”  Mike makes one more effort to get away.  She’ll escape the fat cop’s partial embrace and run.

But she can’t even get on her feet.  Mike lists sideways and everything goes dark.

[nanyoky]

I missed wednesday cuz I was at work until 1am and then yesterday i was tired and needed a bath BUT IT’S TIME FOR SOME HOKEY GREASER NONSENSE BITCHES

oh thanks god Juggie’s narration is back. i didn’t realize it at the time but the more i thought about it last episode the more anxious it made me

holy shit did toni sleep over?! i mean- WITH him??? i should wait to get all the answers before i clutch my pearls shouldn’t i

awwww man- she switched her ringtone

walking by a graveyard in the fog during this conversation because this show is a GIFT

penelope is a fucking monster but she’s being a very stupid monster right now does she not remember “QUIETLY and with my BLESSING”

also nice to see third degree burns heal in like a week and leave zero scarring that’s chill i guess

cheryl’s “EVERYTHING’S FINE” and smile is the exact thing i’ve been doing at work lately so you know she plannin shit ((disclaimer: i’m just looking for a new job because i hate mine nothing this dramatic i promise i’m not going to beat someone up with a girlband or send a serial killer after them))

of course toni just couch crashed i mean i knew it but also i was pearl clutching a bit cuz the kiss was one thing but we all know jug and betty haven’t boned down yet and so i’d be wagging my finger at him if he rebounded THAT hard before cooling off and getting all the facts

okay so they fooled around a bit but toni is bein hella mature about this good girl

“more into girls anyways” WOOP THERE SHE IS

“people at the farm are going to help polly disappear for awhile” UM UM UM I DON’T LIKE THIS. I DON’T LIKE THIS AT ALL. I WANT TO GET OFF NOW PLEASE

of course they see jughead and toni talking at pops but SURPRISE the literal lines they are seeing but not hearing are “so girls in fuzzy sweaters and lipgloss right?” “RIGHT. yes. agreed. what about pastel converse? cutest thing in the world right?” “totally. right up there with cheerleader outfits.” “damn i love girls.” “same.”

omg the three different conversations happening at this neighborhood watch meeting i love this

“bughead is no more?” kevin once again the audience’s solid gold pov character but what about joaqvin i really want someone to say that just so i can see kevin’s eyes lift exasperatedly to the heavens

there’s a whole STORY that people KNOW about the mugshot everyone shut up hiram bout to DRAG

“some gangmember on the southside...” goddammit reggie why are you like this

**side note: i’ve been worried about my professional prospects recently but this week i had a dream that reggie (unclear in the dream if it was the character or the actor?) was rubbing my shoulders and assuring me that i would find a great job soon and everything would fall into place, so i’ve been rather fond of him lately, even if he is a trashbag hot mess

“what does it matter not all serpents are drug dealers” archie bringing his classic “too little too late” damage control in god love’m but he’s so ineffective at least you’re pretty hun

JOOOSSSSSIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE god her big beautiful eyes have so many FEELINGS and EMOTIONS i can’t even look at her

told you this “jughead writes for the school paper” plot was going to last all of two seconds

oh lord mayormackers, papa keller. why you two this way.

*delicate cough* nice how they make sure a black cop arrests toni so we know this isn’t at all racially motivated profiling *sips tea skeptically*

okay i kinda thought veronica was reading that something was up with betty’s outburst but maybe i was wrong. or she’s just got too much going on right now so she’s taking it at face value at the moment and sussing things out later

“The Sugarman” is both cringy-hilarious and TERRIFYING as a drug supplier name

archie has got to give jughead some more hints than “you should maybe talk to betty” because yes it’s not his place to explain everything but also we are BARRELING towards a shakespearean misunderstanding at about 800million miles per hour

cheryl serving LOOKS once again i love this. love her hat. her glasses. the fact that she’s clearly supposed to be sunbathing but she’s in FULL SHADE. LOVE this. LOVE her.

i can’t see the title of her book i’m just assuming it’s wuthering heights or flowers in the attic- only options

they make sure there’s a guitar in the andrews’ living room to remind us that archie does music sometimes still

“i’m upset with you for doing drugs but i know that was probably an isolated incident for you. what about jughead are you checking in with him to make sure he’s not making a habit of that kind of thing? how are your friends son i’m asking for their sake because i care about them as not to assess what kind of influence they are on you” fred is just so incredibly DECENT it’s overwhelming

their having a PARLAY with a RIVAL GANG and jughead being the king’s son CARRIES WEIGHT i am OVERWHELMED MY FRIENDS

So Tall Boy is the king regent now, with the true king in jail and the crown prince too green to take real responsibilities. i don’t ahve any speculations or comments i’m just translating gang culture into a language i have more experience with carry on-wait no i do have thoughts- so joaquin was like- the king’s own squire right? is that a coveted position or sort of an accidental “you have nowhere else to go and your young an impressionable and unlikely to stand up to me here help me shove this body of a kid your age into a freezer” kinda thing i have QUESTIONS about how the serpents operate and the slices of relationships we have seen so far

okay i am getting a STRONG byron vibe from this ghouly fellow

there is just- SO MUCH happening in this scene. first off- tall boy uses words like “parlay” and wears two earrings and now he’s lit with soft orange candlelight he is a literal pirate right now i’m having so much fun

then mr. nell’s-hair-texture-but-somehow-better-also-wearing-an-open-kimono-because-i-am-lord-george-byron and his.... whole deal. is he wearing GAUNTLETS with his OPEN KIMONO and SKINNY JEANS?! GOD I LOVE THIS SHOW

ALSO. tall boy just stood up to say some bogus “this is war” nonsense and there’s a ram’s skull hovering just over his shoulder in the shot HAHAHAHA SUBTLETY.

i was just going to say we haven’t seen cheryl PROSTRATING HERSELF IN GRIEF over jason in awhile but here she is looking at old photos surrounded by red carpeting and iron candelabras bless

oh man. i dunno but the more time passes the more solid the “sheriff keller is crooked” theory is. just they way they cut from cheryl looking at the drawing of the sugarman to the sheriff at the diner i just oh dear. oh honey. i want to believe you’re just spineless and ineffective. for kevin’s sake. don’t hurt kevin any more by having his dad be either a drug smuggler or a serial killer. OH GOD HE JUST SAID “ONE QUESTION” I AM UPSET. could be a red herring almost seems too easy but STILL. 

“there isn’t a sane excuse. so tell me the insane one” knew veronica was too smart for this deception she reads people well and knows betty atta girl way to be the anti- version of a character put in this trope

“Girl i would have given nick’s name and then happily treated myself to a facial” veronica poppin in as the audience’s mouthpiece while kevin is off duty

yasssssss beronica is BACK my friends i missed this are they going to break into someone’s car and definitely make out after the scene cuts like last time please say yes

yes 911 send help it’s the year of our lord 2017 and part of me is still a lil bit into skeet ulrich and i can’t tell how much of it is 90s nostalgia and how much is fp’s hot but deadbeat dad vibe

also fp’s prison number is 24601 because these lit references CAN’T BE STOPPED SON

also i’m sorry i’m going to say SO MUCH ABOUT THIS SCENE because this is my JAM you guys. the tired king helpless to stop the uprising of his people who he once thought loyal but now is seeing just how quickly he can be forgotten GOD there is so much henriad in here i can’t handle it season one was act I without the politics and solely focused on the familial tension with the warrior king favoring the company of the rough upstart over his own intellectual son ((obviously very different characters, but from jughead’s pov, it had to have hurt that fp basically abandoned his real family for the serpents and had little sidebars with joaquin every other second), but now this season is fully into the politics the rebels are merging with the scots and it’s all hal i mean jughead can do to offer himself, the combat-green prodigal son, as a prize fighter compromise GOD I LOVE THIS SHOW

also he called the ghoulies “fops” that byron vibe is def deliberate

he has to say “crazy retro” to excuse the fact that the rest of this episode is (presumably) just going to get stylized as hell for zero in-world reason and 100% because these creators know we all love greaser aus and a show that brings our time period aus to life will have our hearts pretty much forever

speaking of i only went looking for fic for this show once and it was to check to see if there was a kevin/joaquin grease au and i want you all to know i’m disappointed in all of you

cheryl’s outfits are KILLING this episode dead

“i never told you those stories” oh my god. oh my god. i’ve said it so many times before but when this show does subtlety right it REALLY does it. because there is barely direct discussion of cheryl and jason being abused as kids but holy shit do we all know clifford and penelope were abusive as fuck or what

reggie is constantly ducklipping i honestly can’t even tell if his mouth is naturally like that or if the actor is HILARIOUS oh reggie. oh darling. rub my shoulders again that was a nice dream.

these two are over the top but in a delightful way they’ve solved the “flirty asshole persists after disinterested hottie” trope by making all reggie’s flirtations about HIS OWN BODY rather than josie’s which eliminates what makes that trope so skeezy and now instead we’re all just having fun right we’re into this i’m into this they pretend it’s all drunk hookups and eye rolling in public but behind closed doors they have a lot of cute giggly fooling around and even some sweet snuggles

god even this rando drug dealer is beautiful why is everyone so pretty

Oh god core four not in a good place in byron’s sexpot cave right now

yes juggie offering up people’s (including your own) LITERAL HOME is a great plan i mean i say including your own because we’re clearly supposed to see this as self sacrificing because the trailer is all jughead has but HE’S NOT THE ONLY FUCKER IN THE TRAILER PARK IS HE JESUS CHRIST

“Sharon” hahahahahaha i hope the black hood swaps his testes and eyeballs

also i think his face has healed too? what is in the WATER in riverdale?????

also too lets get real again a sec i’m really glad we’ve finally dropped the rape bomb because it’s a word that’s been absent from the dialogue so far and it needed to be said

I hope pop pissed on his fries

YASS GREASE MONKEY BETTY WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR IT AND WE FINALLY MADE IT WE DID IT GUYS

overalls. i’m kinda mad that no one was on board when i tried to make them cool in highschool and now apparently according to riverdale costumers they are A Thing

yass cheryl claws out i dont actually have anything worthwhile to say i just love my trash gothic eris daughter

this is possibly my fave veronica outfit holy shit it is so..... me.

also typical fucking parent reaction to sexual assault: “these things happen.... unless it’s to my own daughter then it’s inexcusable”

hermione and hiram be like “babe i’mma interrupt you real quick before you admit you’re a psychopath to our daughter” “thanks babe”

kevin fully acknowledges the hotness of byron which reminds me that the creators are clearly trying to get us all to forget about joaquin by throwing all these ethnically ambiguous pretty boys who dress like they’re in a band at us and it’s not working i tell you it’s NOT but i’m a little offended by how easily they keep pegging My Type like goddammit why am i so fucking predictable

byron’s hair every day is like my hair on like my best hair day of the year god i hate him

again i’m not much for cole sprouse face-wise but the all black is a DAMN good look on him everyone should just be in all black ft. leather jacket all the time it ups your hotness by at least three points

god i love how there is zero explanation for everyone’s adorably retro outfits to fit with the cars GOD i love this show

omg cheryl clearly channeling miss lana with another KILLER outfit god the girls are just KNOCKING IT OUT OF THE PARK in the wardrobe department this ep actually no you know what? the whole production design crew was having the time of their fucking lives all episode and i want to take a moment to thank each and every person on that crew for the tremendous job on such a fun episode theme

if cheryl and toni don’t bone down i’mma be cross

is byron’s second zayn malick? ((that’s the one i’m thinking of right? i don’t go there))

cheryl renders all sexualities meaningless with dem shorts

oh god jughead barely containing his glee while archie shrinks in terror in the passenger’s seat is such a Big Mood

that was... such an archie solution. poor boy. good boy. dumb boy.

hmm betty seems like she doesn’t recognize the name she doesn’t sound shocked or scared i was sort of suspecting someone we know

this is the BEST way dark!betty could possibly go holy shit man i was not about that plot line in season one but now i’m HERE for the good girl owning her darkness with agency not in a sexy goodgirl gone bad for our viewing pleasure kinda way but in a genuine way in which she has full ownership and control over herself fuck me this is some GOOD SHIT PREMIUM STUFF

OH DANG did not suspect that one. makes sense tho right.

oh no.... fred.... we know where this leads... nooo....

LODGES GOD. LODGES. FRICK.

dammit black hood.

Episode scorecard (i keep forgetting to do this):

# of sick beat drop rhythmic editing moments: One that i counted- the drop/reveal of the sugarman’s identity

do I still miss joaquin: yes

episode hair mvp: Cheryl all around, but particularly her lana del ray headband and swoop

episode outfit mvp: four way tie between cheryl’s sunbathing outfit, cheryl’s black dress with the embroidery and choker, cheryl’s lana del rey outfit all together, and veronica’s plaid pencil skirt/lace up back top number that is like a better version of one of my most iconic outfits and i’m real jealous. honorable mentions to toni, betty and jughead at the race, as well as bryon’s ghouly den kimono ensamble, betty’s overalls, hermione’s “oh no so tragic to hear about this car accident” outfit, penelope’s extra af lace collars, cheryl’s patterned pants and many more this was a good episode for clothes.

cast and crew mvp: production design was having the time of their fucking lives in this one and it paid the fuck off. the costumes as mentioned above, but also environments like thistle house interior and the ghouly hangout really stood out with their detailing and strong genre motifs. standing ovation team. beautiful work.

[derekhaleimagines]

The Crime Blogger

Tags: @the-shewxlf, @megant22, @sexywolfsfordays, @houseofrahl, @sterek-basically, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @misshinehou, @unbreakablevoices, @champagneblues, @mixed-up-fangirl, @juliaspnlover, @cineyou, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @fallenangel-13x, @urwarriorangel, @bless-my-demons, @lunaskyhunter, @arkhamirwin, @fangirlnerd101​, @m-a-t-91​, @meanwhilesmiley​, @edithambroreigns​, @from2016

Word count: 2958

Author’s note: I cannot begin to say how really incredibly sorry I am. I want to apologise for abandoning this blog for such a long time. Thankfully, I had a lot to do, which at least kept me focused on something else than Him. I could write odes about what has been happening to me during these months, but I’m planning to do that somewhere else. Namely, on another blog, so that I can hopefully help others who are in a situation they think can’t solve, or one that’s taking over their life.

Warnings: none (mentions of corpses, but nothing explicit)

Betas: I didn’t send this over to my Pack because I wanted to post this asap, but the list of them is here nonetheless: @i-am-a-misguided-misfit, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @mixed-up-fangirl, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @fallenangel-13x, @the-shewxlf, @b-chocolatelover, @from2016, @safiac, @random-fandom-fangirl2112​

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The judge was wrong – what he believed to be a mere intuitive leap was a conclusion based on careful observation. Also, I am in the position to announce that the bullet was indeed fired from a Sig Sauer X-5, for having had the opportunity to take a glance at the corpse myself. Therefore, the murder weapon was rightfully named in the court. The police should be looking for it instead of wasting their time engaging in the mind game the murderer set up for them to play.

It weren’t until my partner, Stiles, informed me about this blog. Turned out, it has been following quite a bit of our cases – the worst part however, was the fact that whoever launched this blog was able to pinpoint the important facts and come to the solution days, or sometimes even weeks, before we did.

This is the first post that I had the fortune to come across, and after reading these short, yet pithy lines, I gave myself some time in my office to skim through the rest. Then, following the instructions given to us, we searched for the pistol, only to later catch the killer, too. The case was solved within a week, thanks to that blog.

After then, I made it a habit to always check what was written there, and it never ceased to help me get to the end of my cases faster than I could initially do. The only mystery was this person’s method to always know about all of the evidences first-hand. I had no idea how he was doing it, and I’m still clueless to this day.

. o O o .

My current issue involves a man who has managed to outsmart everyone so far. Among his favourite habits are golf, taking photos, painting, reading, leaving a sign at the scenes of his homicides, chess, and poker.

The latter is the reason why Stiles and I are attending an annual celebration of one of the casinos in Los Angeles. There are more people here than usual, and our profiling colleague, Lydia, said that our man would never let down such an opportunity to shine his talent. Hence, me and Stiles are to play cards, all the while looking for clues as to who could be the interpreter.

After about two hours of poker and Black Jack, I opt to get a drink before continuing the subtle investigation. I spot Stiles at table 29, seeing how much he’s focusing on the game. I scan the room – I can immediately choose from the abundance of seats when a collective shout and a round of applause are paid to one of the players at table 47. Without a second thought, I race to get one of the two vacant seats with masked excitement.

To my biggest surprise, the person everyone applauded was a woman, presumably in her mid thirties; she’s wearing an outfit that reminds me of fifties’ fashion, and with her short blonde hair, blazing red lipstick, long lashes and perfect eyeliner, she looks like Marilyn Monroe herself. Only the trademark mole is missing from her face.

Upon noticing that I’m watching her, she sends a crooked smile in my way, before asking, “Are you here to play or to stalk?”

The people around chuckle at her remark; unconsciously, the corner of my mouth twitches as well, and I request for cards. It doesn’t take me long to realise how good she is. It’s no hardship for her to collect nearly all of the money from the table – after approximately an hour, only three of us dare to still play with her; two men, whose names I learnt to be Jason and Chad, and me. Jason is very good at poker, but not nearly as good as Jane, the woman who resembles Monroe.

Then something clicks in my brain as Alice is shuffling the deck for another round; our killer is exceptionally good at poker. In my mind, I automatically start planning the scene of arresting her and taking her with me to the interrogation room. I was too biased until now to do so much as even contemplating the idea of the murderer not even being a ‘he’, but a ‘she’. Under the table, I warn Stiles with my phone via an SMS, then act as though I did nothing and just keep playing.

The game is far from over when Stiles arrives and stands behind my chair. Jane takes a glance at him, and they exchange a long look with each other – suddenly, she announces it has been enough for her and she proceeds to leave, swiping her chips from the table before standing hastily. As she swiftly disappears behind the crowd, I throw in my cards too, and we follow her with Stiles.

We barely manage to catch her at the entrance. Out of mere chivalry, I refrain from clicking handcuffs on her tiny wrists in front of all these people, but instead I do hold on to her arm with a firm grip. As we lead her to our car, she tsks at me, “You got the wrong person, agent.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask while masking my surprise. How on Earth could she know we’re detectives? She couldn’t have seen either of our guns nor our IDs or cuffs. So how...

“You two are clearly from the police. Add the fact that your current subject is an avid poker player and you get a supervised party in the casino. Wasn’t a difficult leap,” she explains. It sounds logical, but I can still not grasp how she figured out our true identities, nor why she left the party so suddenly. Asking her, I get the following response, “You’re an idiot for a detective,” she says. “Your stance says everything. Then there’s the fact that your bust holster is available from under your suit – not obviously, but if someone knows what to look for, it’s clear.”

“And you apparently know what to look for,” I interject, only to get a disapproving look from her as she twirls around, halting in front the car, facing me.

“If you’re not interested in my inductions, you could might as well let me go,” she retorts. Submissively, I shake my head to sign her I’m not intend to do that until she explained everything to me. A short pause follows, but she goes on nonetheless. “Next, your hands; the skin is calloused where your gun puts pressure on it, and your index finger is flat because you always pull the trigger with that. You approached the table that allured you with the most solid potential of finding the murderer. Conclusion: you’re a right-handed cop who’s gone undercover to catch the poker player killer.”

“Not as stupid as it would make you think at first glance, huh,” Stiles speaks up, shaking me out of my sudden stupor after being unveiled. Her perfect red lips pull up in a smug smirk as she comments, “Paramount mistake to be biased by societal rules.” Jane turns to me then. “Can I go now? Obviously I’m not the killer you’re looking for. Furthermore, you’ve just granted him the perfect opportunity to escape, plus you’ve just told him you’re chasing him.”

I have never felt so stupid in my life as I’m watching her stride away in her high-heels.

. o O o .

The next scene of murder I’m directed to occurred at a hotel near a golf paradise. While Stiles converses with the CSI members, I take the testimonies of some of the people around here – namely the manager of the hotel, a maid who noticed the tragedy first, and the brother of the dead.

From the manager, I get the list of all of the suspicious men who rented a room. Stiles joins me, the brother and the maid, saying, “The CSI is certain it was our man.” The maid snorts under her breath, albeit she does that so quietly that I’m not sure if it was only me or she really did laugh just a moment ago. Looking at her innocent face – the short ginger hair curled into adorable locks, the huge green eyes, the smattering of freckles, the pouting lips – I abandon the idea of her making fun of the situation.

Later that day, I find a new post on the blog.

The police suspects the Poker Killer, even though it is clear as the Sun that it was committed by the victim’s brother. The Poker Killer is a showman, therefore he would never allow himself to ruin a scene by allowing people to see the corpse first, then his signature – he always shows us the signature first, then the body. Always. There hasn’t been an exception, so why would there be now? Also, the brother was more invested in what was going on the TV, and he had a smudged red spot on the back of his neck that he apparently didn’t notice whilst changing clothes and removing the most telling evidence.

. o O o .

Again, the blogger was right.

I’m still clueless about his methods, and I have no idea how he knew about the scene or where did he get so close to the brother to notice that tiny red spot on his nape. At first, I thought it was someone from the CSI group, but I haven’t seen any of them before in my previous cases.

So who is the mysterious genius, then?

. o O o .

Two months later, we find a major suspect, and we visit the jury to get an order to look around in his flat. Stiles shows the paper to the landlady, while I’m already on my way to the room of our supposed murderer. In front of the door, I hear faint noises of puttering inside, so I grab my gun before raiding inside. The noises are switched by a pair of high-heels clicking towards me, and within seconds, a young woman appears.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, lowering my weapon to which she didn’t even seem to bat an eye. I tuck the pistol back into my holster, giving further questions, “Why are you here? Who are you?”

“Natasha Karenina,” she answers with a mild Russian accent. She approaches me, only to hand me her business card. I roll my eyes.

“An investigative journalist?” The deceiving tone cannot be disguised in my voice. Natasha is opening her mouth to add something to the conversation, but Stiles appears, and her attention zeroes in on his figure. For the time being, I survey her; she has long black hair that she’s wearing in a perfect pony tail, her royal blue eyes are raking over Stiles, and she’s wearing a light grey skirt suit with a white button-up.

“Why are you here?” I ask again, earning her undivided focus once more.

“I could ask the same,” she answers, moving her sight up and down on me, “but it’s obvious. You’re here because you think it’s the Poker Killer’s flat, aren’t you.” She put it in a questioning phrase, but I have a feeling she wasn’t actually asking anything. She was stating.

“How did you–” starts Stiles, but she cuts him off fast.

“Never mind. The fact of importance here is that this isn’t where our murderer lives.” I assume she noticed the confusion on both of our faces, because without us having to urge her, she goes on, “It’s enough to take a glance at his bookshelves. We know our killer loves to read, but here, you can only see dust covering all of the thick books that are here in the living-room.” While speaking, she gestures towards said room, and enters it. Stiles and I follow. “There’s also some random stuff put in front of the books. Thus, this man wants to look smart, but would never take the time to actually sit down and start any of these prints. However, if you take a look at his bedroom,” she says, once again going to the place she’s talking about with us hot on her heels.

“You can see on his nightstand that there is a thin book about parenting. There are framed photos of his daughter and him, but the only piece in which the entire family can be seen was taken at least two years ago. What does this say to us?” She turns around to look at us, giving us a chance to add something to the story, but we both remain silent. Natasha rolls her eyes at us before going on, “That he and his ex-wife divorced within the last two years. There are no toys, albeit the girl’s age tells us that she would still require such things. A playing room is also absent; hence the girl lives with her mother.

“Our killer doesn’t have a family, he’s intelligent, loves photography and art, however, there are no signs here of any of them; there’s no dark room, no objectives, just one single camera that usually amateurs choose – not quite the taste of our man, is it? Then the painting hobby: there aren’t any brushes, sheets... nothing. I can’t even smell paint in the air. He doesn’t have a separate room where he could work on his pictures. If this man were to be as bright as the Poker Killer, his thick books wouldn’t be eaten away by layers of dust.”

“Amazing,” Stiles blurts, clearly astonished by the girl. I’m not less impressed, but at the same time, something is crawling around in my mind that I can’t shake off. Something that tells me I’ve seen this before, something like...

“You,” I say before I could stop. Natasha looks at me, and that’s the final evidence that I needed to be sure about my theory. “You’re Jane.”

“Jane?” she asks, trying to act nonchalant and puzzled by the name, but I caught sight of her nerve twitching under her cheek.

“You know what I’m talking about,” I declare confidently, enjoying that for the first time, I have the upper hand, and not her. “I know that sight – you looked at me with the same eyes that night, when I joined your table at the poker party. Then you asked if I was just going to gawk at you or actually play.” I have to admit that her ability to disguise herself is also worth of a generous applause, not only her poker skills, but I would never let her know this.

As soon as she inhales a long breath, I know I got her.

“So what?” she barks at me, dropping the accent and clearly annoyed at having been uncovered. Stiles is blinking at us, eyes commuting between her and I. “I’m after this guy, of course I follow him wherever he goes.”

“You looked older back then,” I point out, only to earn another eyeroll from her.

“Of course. You couldn’t expect me to show up in front of a murderer without any disguise protecting me, could you?” Driven by a sudden idea that pops up in my mind for a second, I can’t resist asking,

“Have you heard about the crime blogger?” I hope she could help me find whoever is running that site. Her answer comes with the same tightness from before.

“No.”

Granted, she’s mine.

She knows about the blog, more so, knows who the author is. And now I know the answer, too. I can get her admittance to my being right with just one single, simple question. “How come someone as good as you is ignorant to such an infamous blog?”

Natasha blows out a long breath, apparently giving to me.

“So, who are you really?” I ask.

. o O o .

Not a week later, we catch the Poker Killer.

Stiles and I elected to involve her in the case instantly after meeting her for the third time, as she later informed us. She told us that her real name is (Y/N) Holmes – it made me question whether she changed her name at some point in her life to a really fitting one, or it was a great coincidence by life that a woman, who possesses the observational skills of Sherlock Holmes also bears the same name as him.

In her real appearance, (Y/N) let us know that she was the maid where the fake killing occurred, from which I concluded how she was able to always get her evidence directly from the crime scene; she always wore a disguise, that’s why no one ever noticed her.

. o O o .

One evening, in the office, after only two or three colleagues are present with us, I approach her – she’s standing in front of the window, eyes raking over the street, particularly paying attention to the people walking by. The ‘Visitor’ tag is hanging on her button-up, the jacket of her skirt suit is neatly spread on her arm, while in her other hand, she’s holding a cup of steaming tea.

Without paying a glance at me, she says, “I know what you want to ask me.”

“Then I guess it’s unnecessary for me to request you to join us as a consulting detective.”

She snickers, sips the last drops of her tea, then shakes her head mildly.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” she says. “I meant the other thing. And the answer’s yes. I want to go on a date with you, Derek Hale.”

As she looks into my eyes, I can’t help the grin that finds its way to my face. I hold my arm out to her, which she accepts, then allows me to lead her out of the HQ of the FBI.

[loxare]

Harm

Chapter 5 - Run In 2 and Invading Eggplant

More than a thousand miles from Bludhaven, Wally West was doing dishes. Linda was out doing a report on the new rail system, Jai and Iris were at a friend's and Wally had the day off. So he put on the news for background noise and made supper, a nice lasagna that was currently in the oven. (Well, three lasagnas.) He mostly focused on getting cheese off of the grater, only catching snippets from the TV.

“...and the mayor had this to say...”

“...a minor fire that could have been...”

“...still standing thanks to the Flash...”

“...other news, it appears Red Hood is back in...”

Wait, what was that?

“...more than two months of silence, criminals have started dying in Bludhaven, in methods matching some of Red Hood's previous victims. Red Hood, for our viewers who are unaware, is a vigilante of the worst kind, killing criminals instead of leaving them to the judicial system. It is unlikely he will leave Bludhaven, but it has happened once before.”

“Kind of makes you grateful to the Flash, doesn't it Karen?”

“It sure does Al.” The segment ended, but Wally had already left the kitchen.

He was halfway across the country when his phone alarm went off. Making a quick dash home, he pulled the lasagna out, left a note for Linda and the kids, then ran out again. Then ran back in to grab his costume.

Wally ran around Bludhaven for an hour before stopping to rest. He'd already refueled several times, at that hot dog vendor Iris had gone to last time she'd been here, but now his legs were tired. So he sat on a bench for a few minutes. He was just about to get up and start his search when his phone rang.

Iris's exuberant voice greeted him when he picked up the phone. “Hi Dad! I saw your note and I think I can help.”

“You're not allowed to run to Bludhaven.” She had tried, several times while Red Hood had been missing, but he'd always caught up to her. Wally knew his daughter was worried, but Bludhaven was dangerous and he didn't want her anywhere near it.

“I wasn't going to,” she said in that tone of voice she used that said she had totally been thinking about it, “but I'm in contact with a bunch of kids in Bludhaven, and they keep track of Red Hood. But first you need to tell me what you need to find him for.”

Wally shifted, uncomfortable. “I'm not sure. I haven't really thought about it.”

“Are you going to punch him or throw him in jail or leave him tied up for the cops?”

“No!” As bad a criminal as Red Hood was, he had saved Wally's daughter. And while he would take anyone else in regardless, there was something about Red Hood that made Wally feel like it wouldn't be worth it. “No, sweetie, I just wanted to talk to him.”

“Mmkay. I trust you. But if the other kids start freaking out, I'm not talking to you for a month.” Wally would take that threat seriously if he thought she could actually go through with it. There was a minute or two of silence, followed by keys clicking, followed by more silence.“The kids say he was last seen heading west on Blue Line North. Probably heading for the rail yards. He's going by rooftop, like the Bats do, so you'll find him up there.”

“Thanks Irey.” Wally smiled as his daughter signed off. He'd bring home some chili dogs for her.

He zipped off, running up a wall. At his speed, jumping the gaps between buildings was no sweat, and the roofs were almost as good a track as the street. He just had to be careful not to make too much noise. It wouldn't be good to startle the people trying to sleep in the rooms below him.

Wally had just passed the Littleneck bridge when he saw the distinctive red helmet, attached to the much less distinctive jacket and jeans. Red Hood was headed for the edge of a roof, jumping with a familiar flip and landing in a roll, using that momentum to get back on his feet and keep running. “Like the Bats do” indeed. Wally hadn't seen anyone outside the Gotham heroes who could do that so smoothly.

Racing ahead, he slowed down so Red Hood could see his approach. And see he did. He landed on another roof and came up in a defensive position, low to the ground with one fist raised in front of him, the other dropping to his thigh holster. Not touching it, Wally was pleased to see, but close enough to have the gun out in half a second if needed.

Not that it would ever come out fast enough if things got dicey. But Wally was really hoping that they wouldn't.

“I come in peace.” Coming to a stop with his hands raised and open was the best he could do to diffuse the tensions right now. “Seriously, I promise, I'm not here to take you to jail or anything. I just wanted to thank you.”

Red Hood twitched in surprise, but it was minuscule, controlled. “Thank me?” His voice was more than a little surprised.

“Yeah, for helping my daughter out that one time.” By this point, Wally was four steps away and Red Hood had nearly relaxed out of his crouch. Not fully relaxed; he would still be able to react if Wally pulled anything. “You bolted before I could thank you properly, so I'm doing it now.”

He let out a snort, which sounded weird through the voice modulation on his helmet. “What, and me being a mass murderer doesn't bother you?”

Wally crossed his arms, thinking. “It does, and next time I see you, I'll definitely take you in. But I promised my daughter I wouldn't, so today I'm not going to. I mean, I wasn't going to anyways. I really did track you down so I could thank you.”

“Huh.” With a quick shift in balance, Red Hood moved into a stance that looked completely at ease, but one Wally knew would still allow him to react fairly quickly. “Well, you're welcome. Gotta say though, you're the first person over the age of eighteen to thank me for anything in the past few years and it's really weirding me out.”

With a laugh, Wally leaned on an air conditioner. “Yeah, Iris said you didn't have many adult fans, even in Bludhaven.” Wally had been following that story, kind of. The months that Red Hood was gone – probably in the hospital – following Superman's uncharacteristic beat down, the violent crime rate had gone way up. The theories went flying, the crime rate was only up because Red Hood brought more trouble with him, like most capes did, that crooks were taking advantage of his absence to rule the Bludhaven underground, that the gang war that had started in the Projects had only happened because Red Hood killed the top brass in both and blamed the other. Which... that last one was probably true.

Red Hood snorted again. “Nope. They liked me for about a day and a half, and only to use as fodder against your Justice League.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. That particular media fallout had been brutal. “Sorry about that by the way. The media ripped you apart putting us back in the public's good books.”

“No problem. Not the first time I've been tossed under the bus. Oh, and by the way, you told me your daughter's name a minute ago. Isn't that supposed to be secret?”

Wally laughed again. “It would be, if she hadn't told you already. If I hadn't told you mine over the phone. I suppose I owe you another thank you.” For not spreading it around.

A careless shrug from Red Hood. “No reason to give you hero types more reason to come after me.” He didn't mention that if he did get arrested, he could use the information to bargain for his release, or get special treatment from other inmates. And if he did get arrested, but still kept quiet, jail would be hell on Earth. Every inmate would be gunning for that information. Wally didn't know what Red Hood would choose, but he would have to make sure the League had precautions put in place for both.

Because someday, someone would arrest Red Hood. Some hero would decide enough was enough and take him out. Or fail, bringing more heroes to Bludhaven to avenge his or her defeat. Honestly, Wally was surprised it hadn't happened already. “True. You're probably walking on thin enough ice in the community as is.”

Red Hood nodded, then gestured in the direction he'd been heading before Wally had stopped him. “Nice chat and all, but I was headed for something.” Wally gave him a look, which Red Hood noticed, of course. “Nothing lethal, probably, so don't get your tights in a bunch. There's a bunch of people in a warehouse planning on robbing a charity, so I'm going to break all their arms.”

Wally grumbled. “That's not much better.”

“Better than the charity getting robbed. The money from that goes to helping women in abusive situations, and it's one of the few clean ones in the city.” Red Hood shoved one hand in his pocket, the other lifting to wave goodbye. “If you're not going to stop me now, better take off. Some media dog might paint you as complicit otherwise.”

It was tempting, to run up and stop him. But he had promised Iris. And Red Hood said he wasn't going to kill anyone. Still. “Maybe only break one arm each?”

“We'll see Flash. Run along home before your daughter comes looking for you.”

Two days later, when Wally caved and looked up the arrest report, he spit out his coffee. Half of the potential charity robbers had both of their arms broken. The other half, one each.

Jason's night had been going pretty good. Right up until he saw some kid try and stop a mugging. With any other age group, he would be applauding the citizen for taking initiative. Good for them! But for whatever reason, the kids in this city thought it was a good idea to copy him and try and bust drug rings. He really needed to have a talk with them about that. And if that talk made him a hypocrite, well, at least he wasn’t a hypocrite with a bunch of dead kids on his hands.

For now though, he needed to stop this blonde kid from getting stabbed. Again.

He landed on one of the thugs, eliciting a startled “Shit! Fuck!” from the blonde girl. The man who had been getting mugged was busy cowering in the corner and probably couldn't be startled if Jason tried. He had to admit though, the girl was pretty good. Even with a deep cut in her shoulder, she was taking out thugs like it was her job. But her fighting style was more city dojo and less Bat-trained, so she was probably just some kid.

Finally, all of the thugs were lying on the floor groaning. The mugging victim had scarpered a while ago, so it was just the two of them standing. Jason was looking through his belt, and the girl was holding her arm and looking awkward. “Well. This was fun. I should probably g-”

“Crap.” Jason looked up at the girl. “Sorry, I forgot to restock my first aid stuff.” He crossed his arms as he thought. He'd been planning on taking the girl to a well lit rooftop somewhere, but without his first aid, that was not an option.

“No, really, I could just go.” She was from Gotham. Lower Gotham, judging from her accent. It was nice to hear again.

Jason frowned and walked a bit closer. “You have a hole in your shoulder. And trust me, those bleed a lot.” He sighed. “Look, if I take you back to my place to patch you up, are you going to rat me out to the cops? Because I just moved in and I like it.”

She snorted. “Pft. No. But really, I'm fine.”

Jason pulled off his helmet so she could see him raise an eyebrow at her. “The nearest hospital is a half hour walk, and trust me, you'll bleed out long before then. It's a five minute swing to my place, so come on. I promise I won't assault you if that's what you're worried about.” It was a legitimate concern, and if he thought that was the problem, he would just go to his apartment and bring stuff back. But she hadn't reacted when he'd moved closer, so he'd rather not risk her bleeding out while she waited. Still, he held out his hand and waited for her to take it. When she did, he pulled her in close and told her to hold on tight.

Five minutes later, they were at his apartment. He dropped her on the sofa – leather and black, so blood wiped off and didn't stain – then went to the fridge for juice. “Drink that, you'll need the fluids,” he said as he grabbed his medkit from behind the couch. Not a good idea to keep it too far away, especially when he couldn't find the energy to walk to the bathroom and back. The girl had already peeled off her coat. Luckily, she was wearing a tank top, so she didn't have to take off her shirt as well.

“So,” he ventured as he injected some pain killers into her arm, “what's your name?”

She seemed a little reluctant to answer, but eventually she said, “Steph. Stephanie Brown. What's yours?” Something about the name sounded familiar.

Jason just smiled, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the antiseptic. “Red Hood. But you can call me Red.”

Steph sat quietly for a few minutes while Jason worked. And while he worked, he started thinking up all the fun ways he was going to utterly destroy whoever had hurt this girl. She had almost as many scars as he did, and it looked like they were the result of torture. Recent too. Not much more than a year, year and a half.

“Is it true you were the second Robin?” She asked finally, breaking into his plans. “I mean, it's cool if you don't want to tell me.”

Jason tugged the last stitch through and tied off. “Yup. In the flesh.” He grabbed some bandages from his kit and started wrapping her injury.

“Hm.” She waited while he secured the bandages, using the excess as a sling. “I'm not here for long, just visiting for the weekend. Not really how I planned to spend it.”

“Yeah, getting stabbed will normally knock out your weekend plans.” He sat back, pulling her coat back on and buttoning it over top of her arm. “That's what happens when you try and fight crime without being ready though. I really need to sit you kids down and have a chat with you.” Jason sighed. The Red Kids, the ones who tried to copy him, do what he did, normally scattered when he jumped down. They knew he didn't want them fighting, but they refused to listen to his reasons why. “Oh well. Problems for another day. Do you have my number?”

She shook her head, so he grabbed a card from his belt and handed it over. Then she grabbed a pencil and his note paper from the coffee table and wrote her number down on it as well. “So you can call me. And make sure you do call me. I'm from Gotham, I know how you people work.”

Jason snorted. “Sure thing.” If it was an emergency.

Steph just rolled her eyes and stood up, pulling on her coat as she did. “Are you going to take me back down, or do I have to take the stairs?”

“No, the stairs are being renovated. I'll take you down.”

He put her down on the ground and then followed from the rooftops to make sure she got home safe. And then he went home and plugged in his flash drive for the first time since the hospital.

AN: Sorry this took so long! For more Flashes in Bludhaven, this chapter is your friend.

Oh hey, it’s that flash drive again. Weird. I wonder what he’s looking up on there? Mystery.

Read and enjoy you wonderful people! Loxie out!

[addicted-to-dc]

Jason Todd/ Red Hood X Reader- No Grave Can Keep Me Away From You

I kinda got carried away………

—————————

You punched the last crook in the face, breaking his nose in the process.  He collapsed onto the ground and clutched his nose, mumbling utter nonsense about how much his medical bill is going to be.  He stayed down, making your job easier, and allowed you to continue to beat the pulp out of the goons that continued to swarm through your old client’s facility.  He had decided to send you on a suicide mission to save someone, and you decided that his ass belonged in a grave for what he did.  He didn’t do that much to you, but he sent you to become a mindless slave.  There had been hundreds of men and women that were affected by this, and you would love to erase all of the things you saw from your mind.  He was sick in the head to sum it up, and it was now your job to kill his ass.  Once your last opponent fled, you made your way to where your client was holed up.

“Phil, you son of a bitch, where are you?” you hollered and stomped into his almost empty office.

You followed the sound of muffled sobbing and found Phil huddled under his desk, a gun clutched in his hand.  He gasped when you pulled him out from under the desk and shoved him against the wall.  You took the gun from his hand and pointed it directly in his lap.

“Hi, Phil,” you greeted, cocking the gun.  “Funny seeing you here.”

“(Y/S/N), wha-what are you doing here?” Phil stuttered out.

“You know why,” you growled. “How many people do you have to involve in your sick game?!  Do you realize what you have done?!”

He whimpered and continued to sob against the wall. You rolled your eyes and moved the gun until it was directly on the side of his head.  His sobs grew louder and louder until a familiar voice spoke behind you.

“Let him go, (Y/N).”

You pulled the trigger and watched Phil’s body drop to the floor, “You know, you’re always the one who says our names during hero work. So Batman, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to put an end to all of this,” Bruce stated.

You laughed, “You could have done that if you saved me from that psycho.”

“You know I did my best to-”

You interrupted him by ripping your mask off, revealing your scarred face, “THIS IS WHAT YOU DID TO ME!!  I followed every single one of your orders, even when I was grieving over my parents’ and Jason’s death!  Look where that got me!  I’m done following your goddamn rules.”

You pulled out a lighter and lit it, watching the horror appear on Bruce’s masked face.

“(Y/N), please come home,” Bruce begged.

“Hell no,” you laughed once again. “I’m not going through all of that again.  Do you realize what I went through to survive through all of that?  After I escaped on my own, I told myself to never trust you again.”

You dropped the lighter on Phil’s body and threw down a smoke bomb, causing Bruce to back away and pull his cape over his mouth.  You ran towards the window and collided with the glass, causing millions of pieces to fall after you.  You knew you were at least 60 stories above the ground when you saw someone soaring on a line heading towards your way.  You grabbed your grappling hook and shot it at the nearest building.  The figure was about fifteen feet away from you when you swung out of the way, landing on one of the smaller buildings. You landed and discarded the grappling hook, knowing that the figure was right behind you.  The figure was male and wearing a red helmet.  What really caught your attention was the red bat symbol under his leather jacket.  You stopped running and faced him.

“Did Batsy drag another poor soul into his conquest?” you asked the stranger, chuckling at his confused demeanor.  “Trust me, you’ll get more broken than you are if you trust that guy.”

The man continued to stare at you, not even moving an inch when you started walking towards the edge of the building.  

“See you around,” you smirked and disappeared from his view.

He couldn’t believe it.  You were standing there, right in front of him, alive and…. different.  Obviously your face was scarred, and you ditched Bruce, but your attitude had changed.  He watched as you left him standing dumbstruck on the roof, and he remained there until he saw Bruce swinging his way.

—————–

“It sucks man, I literally love her so much I don’t find other girls attractive anymore,” Jason explained while pacing around Roy’s workshop.

“Then go talk to her, idiot,” Roy said and continued to tinker with his latest contraption.

“Yeah, let me walk up to her and tell her I’m alive?  That’s going to be a great conversation,” Jason snorted.

“Dude, do you want her?”

“She’s all I want,” Jason admitted.

“Then go get her!”

“How am I supposed to find her?  She’s running around with a new persona and gadgets, plus she seems different.  When I saw her, she didn’t even care if I saw her face, she didn’t even try to attack me, and I know something bad happened to her while I was gone,” Jason added.

Roy sighed and set his screwdriver down, “Jason, all you need to do is find her and talk.  You can’t just go moping around like Romeo when Rosaline rejected his ass.  You need to go find your Juliet.”

“You’re really comparing my life to that tragedy?” Jason asked.

“That’s the only example I could think of!” Roy defended himself.  “Stop stalling and go!”

“Fine, but we’re not done with this conversation,” Jason grumbled before exiting the room.

“He’s totally whipped,” Roy chuckled and resumed his tinkering.

——————

You were finishing off a rapist when you saw him again, Red Hood.  After your first meeting, you did some digging on the guy and found out that he was with Bruce, but he definitely didn’t follow the bat’s rules.

“Hey stranger,” you smirked and pulled the trigger.  

The body fell onto the ground, blood already seeping from the fatal wound.  You turned around and saw that your gut was correct, the Red Hood was standing right behind you.

“What brings you to the dark side of town?” you asked and leaned up against the brick wall, not a hint of remorse in your system.

“I was looking for you,” he replied.

You smiled, “Do I have to ask why?”

Jason chuckled lightly, “Let’s get out of here before the cops arrive, and then I’ll tell you why.”

“Sounds a little risky, but I’ll bite,” you yawned and pulled down the fire escape ladder.

You climbed it until you reached the top of the building.  When Jason stepped onto the roof, he knew you wanted answers.

“We’re away from the scene, now why do you want to talk?  It’s not everyday a vigilante doesn’t want to talk with his fists and have a nice conversation with another, but mentally unstable, vigilante,” you said and sat on the edge of the building.

Jason sighed and took off his helmet.  You looked at him in confusion, but it soon became fear when he peeled off the domino mask.

“No, you can’t be real,” you whispered and backed away from him.  “It’s been a hallucination, it’s only a hallucination.”

Jason watched as you kept backing away from him and pulling at your hair, but ran to you when you were going to fall off the building.  He sat down and held your face in his hands.  He took off your mask and saw the (E/C) eyes that once bore into his with happiness, but they were faded, as if you had the life sucked from you.

“(Y/N), it’s me,” Jason said and pulled your gloved hands onto his face.  “It’s me.”

“How?” you quavered.

“No grave can keep me away from you,” Jason said.

You let out a laugh, a real laugh, and smiled.  For the first time in years, you actually felt at peace with yourself.

Jason smiled and stood up, taking you with him, “Do you think take out would be a good reunion food?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his lips to yours, “I think it’s perfect.”

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

So before I started taking prompts (which can still totally be sent in) I asked @silv3rclouds-with-graylining to give me one. He asked for some more college freshman!Damian that I did whilst admining for @whore4batfam and wanted it with a freaky friday twist. It got a lot longer than I planned but here it is.

“So how’s school going?” Damian rolled his eyes behind his mask, not that Todd could see since he was across the room and Damian was, well, wearing his mask.

“It’s fine. Going well,” he responded to his brother through the comms as he crouched behind a museum display. The thief, some D-lister Damian couldn’t even remember the name of, was carefully removing the ancient necklace from its case. “On my count. 3… 2… Now.”

Suddenly the Red Hood leapt from his own hiding spot and yelled, “Hey jerkface! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Damian went barreling into the thief and knocked him down onto the smooth tile floor, the necklace dropping from his grasp and skittering across the floor. Damian easily pulled the zip-ties from his belt and secured the man’s wrists and ankles for the police. “Nice going Demon Bat,” Jason chuckled as he sauntered over.

“-tt- Aren’t you missing a letter? Thought I was the Demon Brat.”

“Nah. Considering you’re nearly my height you don’t really qualify as a brat anymore.”

Damian rolled his eyes again but didn’t bother hiding the small quirk of his lips. His relationships with his brothers and most of the other members of their community had improved over the years. Which is why he was surprised but agreed when Jason asked for his help for the night.

Getting up he walked towards where the necklace had fallen. Jason had as well and both brothers bent to pick it up simultaneously. “No!” the crook shouted at them but it was too late, both boys had already grabbed the necklace.

“What’s your problem?” Jason asked and Damian knew that under the helmet he had a single eyebrow raised.

“I- what- dammit!” The man yelled.

Damian looked back to his brother who just shrugged, put the necklace in an evidence bag he pulled from somewhere before dropping it back into the case. “C’mon, cops will be here soon.” Together they grappled back out through the museum’s skylight to head home early. They had to get Damian back to school tomorrow after all.

Jason stretched, still laid out flat on his back in bed. The night before had been nice, stopping that robbery with the kid then special tea and cookies for the returning vigilantes from Alfred. Damian was being driven back to school today so patrols last night had been cut short in order to enjoy aforementioned tea and cookies before bed. He finally, blearily, opened his eyes and spent another minute or so staring at the ceiling before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing. That was when he noticed something was wrong. This wasn’t his bedroom, not the one he used as a kid or the one he used when staying at the manor now. He realized with a start this was Damian’s room and what was worse, he was Damian.

Flinging the door open he sprinted down the hall to his own room and began pounding his fists on the door. “I’m coming!” and some mumbled curses came from inside. Said by his own voice. The door swung open and he saw himself standing there in shock. “Todd?” Damian asked. All Jason could do was nod before Damian began cursing some more.

The noise had drawn the attention of the manor’s other occupants and Dick had opened his door across the hall from them. “What the hell are you two arguing about at… 6:30 in the morning?”

“I’m him!” Jason yelled at the same time Damian said “Todd is me!”

Dick blinked at them slowly, shook his head and turned back around to flop down on his bed. “It is too early for this. Go make to bed until you two start making sense.”

Jason exchanged a wild look with his brother before the two rushed into Dick’s room. “Dickhead! Get up! We have a serious problem here!”

“Grayson I demand you assist us at once!” Damian had managed to roll Dick onto his back and the eldest now stared up at them in confusion. “The necklace! Todd! The necklace from last night must have had some sort of mystical properties.”

Jason nodded, “That must be why he freaked when we both touched it.” Jason glanced back down at Dick who was slowly managing to process this information.

“What… Jay?” Dick addressed what appeared to be Damian before turning his attention on the other boy, “Dami?” They nodded. “Well crap. The one time Zatanna actually goes off world.”

“Are you saying we’re stuck like this?!” Jason cried as Dick pushed himself upright again.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to talk to Bruce but if it was really magic that caused this then there’s not much to be done until we can get ahold of someone who knows what they’re doing. Damian began a long string of curses in a plethora of languages. “Damian. Language.” Dick scolded and led the way from his room.

Damian scoffed, “But you never tell Todd to watch his language.”

“Yeah well, Jason’s older than you.”

“Not if I’m him,” Damian responded smugly.

Dick blinked and seemed to flounder at this. Jason could not stop laughing. “Ok. New rule, nobody curses. In any language.”

Bruce chose that moment to exit his bedroom, as they passed no less. “What’s this now?”

Dick gave a mischievous smirk before pointing at Jason, “Looks like Dami? Actually Jay.” He then pointed to the other boy, “Looks like Jay? Actually Dami.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed but he only gave his usual “hmmph” in reply. The trio made it to the kitchen where they found Alfred and Cass making breakfast and Tim nursing a coffee. Jason got a wicked idea, running up behind Tim he grabbed him in a headlock and gave him a noogie with a loud “Timbo!” in his ear.

Tim wildly flailed his arms, “What the hell, Damian?! Get off!”

Jason laughed and flopped into the seat next to him, receiving a look that meant Tim was obviously doubting his sanity. “Do not blame me for Todd’s ridiculous actions,” the real Damian drawled from where he leaned against the fridge.

“What? No. Please no. Not again,” Tim groaned into his mug. “I need more coffee if I’m dealing with this crap.”

Cass just grinned, “Knew it was you. Whole time.”

“Well thanks for not being a spoilsport!”

Cass gave him a salute before turning back to the stove. Bruce sighed as he dropped into his seat at the head of the table. “I just checked, Zatanna and Constantine are both in some pocket dimension and with each other so who knows when they’ll be back.”

“What about the necklace?” Damian asked as he took up his own position at the table. Dick, Cass, and Alfred following right behind with the food.

“Police custody by now. And I don’t want to tamper with something we know nothing about.”

“So where does that leave us?” Jason asked as he snagged some bacon.

Bruce sighed, “I hate to say it but, stuck. You’ll have to go about acting like each other.”

Damian’s eyes widened and his whole face went pale. “No. That cannot be. Father, I have classes! Midterms are coming up! Todd cannot just take my place.”

“Normally I’d be offended that the Demon Bat would think I’m not smart enough but I am not going to college as him. No way. I got my degree a year ago now. Online. This is not going to work.” Jason informed the table.

“C’mon Jay. You can handle it,” Dick said with an encouraging smile.

“Nope. This is serious. I do not want to be responsible to turning Damian’s GPA to crap.”

“Thank you,” Damian said, dead serious.

“I realize this is not ideal but it will only be for a few days.” Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, a surefire sign that he was done with hearing any arguments. Jason sighed and stabbed his eggs a bit too aggressively.

A few hours later Jason found himself sitting on the bed in Damian’s dorm room, a detailed list of instructions in his hand. He was trying to remember the tour that Damian had given them during family weekend when the kid’s roommate walked in. “Hey Damian. How was your break?”

“Uh. Ok. Yours?”

Jack blinked at him, “Good. You feeling ok?”

“Yes. Why?” Jason consciously tried to mimic Damian’s speech patterns.

“Because normally you say something like ‘it was adequate’ or ‘sufficient’ or something like that,” Jack said with a grin.

Jason just shrugged, “I find my family exhausting and am rather tired.”

“Ok, whatever man. Guess that means we’re not playing Mario Kart tonight.”

“What?”

“Seriously Dam? It’s Mario Kart Monday! Your head must be messed up from all that Gotham smog. You get whacked over the head and kidnapped again?”

“Apologies. I must be more out of it than I realized.”

Jack just chuckled as he continued to put his shirts away. “Don’t worry. Get some sleep. I can make fun of you for it in the morning.”

Jason went to roll out of bed the next morning and just about died when he realized that he was roughly six feet in the air, Damian had lofted his bed and Jason had forgotten about having to be the kid for the next couple days. He made it to the ground without incident and grabbed Damian’s shower caddy before heading to where he remembered the bathroom was. He reviewed the list of instructions after the shower and went to where he had a fuzzy recollection of the dining hall. The food was good but nothing like Alfred’s and he was glad for Damian’s anti-social tendencies as he was able to eat his omelet in peace.

He checked the campus map that he had pulled up on his phone and went to find his first class, Environmental Science 101. He only took two wrong turns and still ended up being the first one into the lecture hall where Damian had told him he was expected to sit in the second row, fifth from the left. Jason found his seat pulled out Damian’s notes and books and fished through his bag for a pencil. He then put headphones in and flipped his hood up like he’d seen his younger brother do a thousand times but didn’t turn on any music. The room filled up around him and soon enough the professor walks in and starts class. Jason dutifully took notes and was pleasantly surprised to find he was enjoying himself. After an hour and a half the class left out and Jason went to find the next building.

After a week Jason found himself enjoying his time at college. Damian’s classes were interesting, his friends were nice and didn’t seem to mind Jason’s reluctance to join conversations, and the time off from patrolling was just fantastic. He was almost sad when he got the text Friday afternoon saying that Zatanna had been contacted and the necklace attained and someone would be picking him up in a little over an hour to pick him up. He packed up some clothes and the belongings he knew Damian would want back and went to wait outside. He bumped into Jack on the way, “You going home for the weekend?”

“Yes. Father has a charity event and I agreed to go.”

Jack nodded, “Ok. Have fun.”

Dick was the one who came to pick him up, a goofy grin on his face. “What is it?” Jason growled as he climbed into the car.

Dick shrugged but the smile never moved, “Oh nothing. Just imagining how much fun you must have had being Damian all week. Oh, and that Damian somehow worked out the logic that whenever he swore it was technically you so he racked up roughly $700 worth of swear jar charges for you to pay upon your return to the manor.”

Jason glared and muttered, “I’m so going to kill him.” The drive to Gotham was filled with Dick’s mindless chatter and constant changing of the radio station. Finally, they pulled up to the manor and Jason practically flung himself from the car. “DAMIAN!” He bellowed as he plowed through the front doors, “I AM NOT PAYING FOR YOUR SWEARING!”

“Oh my. I am never anything less than amused when you lot call me,” Zatanna smirked, standing in the middle of the living room holding the necklace in a white gloved hand.

“Can we just get this over with?” Damian grumbled from where he sprawled himself out in the recliner.

“What do we have to do?” Jason asked the magician as the rest of the family loitered around the edges of the room.

“Just grab the necklace at the same time,” the magician informed the two brothers.

“That’s it?” Jason asked incredulously.

“It seems too simple,” Damian agreed.

Zatanna just shrugged, “That’s it.”

They shared a glance and each held out a hand which Zatanna dropped the necklace into. Simultaneously they caught it and…

“I don’t feel any difference.” Jason said, still as Damian.

“It takes some time. Get some food, go to bed, you’ll wake up as yourselves. Now if you don’t mind letting it drop to the floor.” From there she picked it up, placed it in an evidence baggie that she passed to Bruce before waving and disappearing.

“Well then,” Jason said to the empty air. “I’m getting food.”

They did as Zatanna suggested and woke up the next morning, in his own bed. He smiled, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Damian stretched and peered around his own room for the first time in a week. He got out of bed and went about his normal routine. The rest of the weekend passed without incident, unless you counted the various normal squabbles that broke out between the manor’s inhabitants. Sunday night saw Bruce finally driving Damian back to school. He let himself into his room and collapsed onto his desk chair. “Hey Dames. How was break?”

“Don’t you mean how was my weekend?”

Jack shook his head, “I’m not an idiot. I know that was your brother. Now tell me how your break was and we’ll go back to pretending like we both know you’re normal.”

Damian blinked at his roommate but shrugged and told Jack how his break was.