#nightwing has blood lipstick

[propheticpanickingnerd]

Vampire nightwing convincing nightwing to be a vampire or something

Actually i didnt even read the vampire comic i was just listening to There Are Other Ways from the Epic Musical and had thoughts

I will actually read it when i eventually get the courage to, while that doesn't happen, here you go sexy guy doing things

Here you go if you wanted a close up of the guy

Struggled doing the bird

Loved doing the lipstick and the blood

Duality of man or something

[vikingpoteto]

Red Robin under the spotlight

Read on AO3 

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Relationships:  GEN. Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake

Summary: Red Robin and Red hood are basically urban legends, no one is sure they're real. That is, until there is a picture of the two of them grinning at each other on Gotham Gazette's front page.

________________________

Tim Drake is having… a day. 

Stuck in his office for the afternoon, he is praying for nightime to come soon so he can put on his suit and vent his frustration by beating up some unsuspecting criminal. He’d known being a CEO wasn’t particularly fun, but he didn’t expect the board of directors to be babies for so long. 

He skims his proposal for what feels like the hundredth time unsure of how to make it clearer that that is the best course of action for their investments. The fact that he is only 18 should not trump his very solid, data-based arguments. 

So he’s already in a bad mood and praying for a distraction when his office door swings open and Tam Fox storms in.

“Timothy!” she shouts. 

He feels like he's about to learn he should be careful with what he wishes.

“Hey, Tam, I missed you too?” He tries.

Behind her, his secretary makes a helpless gesture as if trying to communicate she tried to stop Tam. Tim gives the woman a tired smile and makes a dismissive gesture.

Ignoring that, Tam slams the door closed and repeats for emphasis: “Timothy.” She pushes an iPad into Tim’s chest. “What is the meaning of this?”

Raising an eyebrow, he takes the iPad and looks at the screen, noticing he’s staring at a Gotham Gazette article and… Tim’s heart stops.

The headline screaming at his face says RED DYNAMIC DUO? by Vicki Vale and beneath it…

“Oh god,” Tim whimpers.

Beneath the headline there’s a picture of him and the Red Hood. 

Or, well, Red Robin and Red Hood. They’re sitting on the fire escape of one of the abandoned buildings in Jason’s territory and both are seemingly at ease. Too at ease. There are two BatBurger bags at their side and their fingers are intertwined. Red Robin is staring at their joined hands with a wide smile. Fucking hell. Tim always makes a point of never smiling in front of anyone when he’s in his suit, he has a reputation to protect. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that Red Hood isn’t wearing his helmet, because it emans his open grin is visible as well - and thank god  Jason has the habit of wearing a domino under his helmet. 

Who the hell took that picture? How the hell did they go unnoticed by both Tim and Jason?

He then starts reading the article, every word feeling like a punch to the gut. 

Gotham City has seen its share of vigilantes over the years and, unlike public figures such as Superman, they prefer to keep to themselves, making many people wonder whether they’re even human. As a shot captured by an amateur photographer that chose to remain anonymous, we find out at least a pair of the many Gotham “heroes” are closer to us than we thought. 

The vigilante known as Red Robin Gotham's patheon of heroes a couple of months ago and little is known about him. He’s been seen working with the likes of Batman, Robin and even Batgirl, making us all think he’s one of the good guys. It seems like Red Robin’s circle of friendships doesn’t include only Justice League members, though.

The Red Hood, the man so tenderly smiling at Red Robin, is a notorious mob boss whose territory's size, GCPD especulates, rivals Black Mask’s. Red Hood wanders between both criminal activities and a violent brand of justice and, while he's been seen working side-by-side with heroes like Nightwing, a hero that since has only been seen in Bludhaven, no one can claim to have seen the Red Hood so comfortable around one of the bats of Gotham

The two young men were pictured in a tender moment. Could this mean that Red Robin is straying towards villany? Is the Red Hood is considering changing his ways? Or, perhaps, are we facing a pair of starcrossed lovers, separated by different set of morals, but still unable to stay away from one another? 

Tim makes an inhumane sound. The words  star crossed lovers  jump from the screen, burning his eyes and making him wish he was going over a dumb business proposal still.

“Well?” Tam demands. “What is that, Tim?”

“I don’t know, Tam,” he answers, his voice weak. “What on earth- How the hell… Oh, god .”

“Why were you hanging out with the Red Hood?”

“Stakeout,” Tim says simply.

“Why were you on a stakeout with the freaking Red Hood?”

At that, Tim recovers enough to feel a bit miffed. That’s the same tone she had last year when Tim was working with assassins and he gets offended on his brother’s behalf. Even if, you know, said brother had also been somewhat related to the assassins in question. In the past.

“Hey, Hood is not as bad as the news make him look. Sure, he’s not exactly clean, but he’s a valuable undercover agent and…”

Tam makes sounds of a woman whose white Valentino bag had liquid lipstick spilled in. “Does that mean you  are  dating the Red Hood?”

“What? NO!”

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. God, what a mess. 

“He’s my brother,” he says. 

Tam looks like she goes through the 7 stages of grief in a very short time and, honestly, Tim feels for her. He likes Tam a lot. She is smart and strong and the poor girl has had to deal with so much since she and Tim became friends.

“Are you telling me… that Dick Grayson…”

“No, Dick’s not the Red Hood.”

She stares at the picture again and then at him. “This isn’t Duke or Damian, Tim.”

“You’re right. It’s a long story. I can’t tell you, though. I trust you but Hood’s identity isn’t my secret to share.” 

Tam closes her eyes and breathes in and out slowly. After all the crap she had to deal as one of Red Robin’s friends, a stranged brother that happened to be a crime lord (an anti-hero, really) wasn’t that far fetched. She didn’t know much about the Drakes because Tim didn’t talked about them, so, for all she knows, Red Hood could be Jack’s or Janet’s bastard child. Although Tim can figure her theories, he doesn’t try to explain anything. Whatever she works out is better than letting her know Red Hood is Bruce Wayne’s son brought back from the dead.

“Fine. You’re not dating a criminal. You’re a criminal’s brother.”

“I mean… if you think about it, I’m a criminal too.” He smiles sheepishly under her glare. “Being a vigilante isn’t exactly something I can put on my resume.” 

Shaking her head, Tam checks the picture again. “What were you even doing? Because it looks like you’re holding hands and finding it hilarious.”

“We… hm. We were thumb wrestling.”

She stares at him, her expression empty of any emotion. Tim cringes.

“Look, not everything is death traps and high risks, alright? Sometimes stakeouts get boring!”

“You were laughing your head off because you were having a thumb war with the Red Hood,” Tam deadpans.

“Hm. Actually the thumb war wasn't that funny, that was him cheating. I was winning so he kept talking shit about Dick’s past to make me laugh and lose focus.”

Tam finally sits down and she looks at ceiling as if she’s considering all the life decisions that lead her to this moment. At this point, Tim knows she’s just being dramatic, because knowing Red Hood cheats at thumb war for certain isn’t more shocking than the time she met Tim. 

“The thumb was isn’t important now, though,” Tim says. “ This  is a huge problem. Hood’s gonna be in hot water if people think he’s  friends  with a hero.”

He refuses to use the word lovers, because ew. Sure they’re not related by blood, but… ew. Tim  sees  him as a brother, damn it.

“Well, I’m afraid there’s not a lot we can do now,” Tam says apologetically. “The article’s been up since this morning. Even if we have them take it down, it’s already out there. #RedDynamicDuo is trending on Twitter.”

Oof. That’s… oof.

Tim intertwines his fingers and glares at the tablet in front of him as if waiting for the puzzle to solve itself. He knows it won’t, so it’s up to him to fix this. His burnt out brain suggests calling Bart and asking him to run back in time and stop that cursed thumb war. His practical brain has half a mind to call Oracle and see how much online evidence she can get rid of. He has to contact Gotham Gazette and threaten them into not putting vigilante’s identities at risk by posting such pictures, although he doesn’t hold high hopes for that course of action. What he needs now is a bigger scandal, although he fails to think of something more dramatic than Red Robin and Red Hood being buddies…

Right as he’s starting to feel a bit forlorn, his phone buzzes on the table. A picture of Dick smiling flashes on the screen and Tim allows himself to perk up for a moment. Dick for sure will be able to help him.

“Dick!” He picks up, full of hope.

Tim is greeted with cackling. Dick’s cackling.

He groans. “Richard.”

“AHAHAHAHA O-oh god, you… aha... b-baby bird, you… HAHAHAHA--”

Tim isn’t paid enough for this. He hangs up.

“Can you help me with this?” He asks.

“Don’t I always?” Tam quirks an eyebrow.

Smiling tiredly, he stands. “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. Can you take care of… you know… day job stuff?”

“I guess. Good luck with your… your family thing.”

 THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert: *insert game of thrones joke here*

In the hood: Go fuck yourself, Stephanie

spoiler alert: not judging u bro he hella cute

WonderWing: steph please

cassandra cain-wayne: ?

send me a Signal: they’re talking about that picture of Hood and Red holding hands cass

yumm: were NOT holding hands

cassandra cain-wayne: I print that picture.

In the hood: W H Y ! ?

cassandra cain-wayne: cute :) 

spoiler alert: she right and she should say it

In the hood: Steph, turn on your location. I just want to talk.

yumm: stephanie I hv pics of u sleep drooling on me from that that 1 patrol dnt test me

spoiler alert: shut up red dynamic duo

 Tim hates the internet.

Barbara is kindly trying her best to muffle the online reaction, but there is only so much she can do without outright deleting people’s tweets. Tim knows for a fact that that would only cause a bigger uproar, so he asks her to settle for burying mentions of them under a fake algorithm. 

He has yet to think of gossip hot enough to top the rumors, but he doesn’t think even his fake engagement to Tam last year received so much attention. A glimpse into Gotham’s elusive heroes’ personal lives was too exciting to let go quickly.

When he walks into his apartment, he wants nothing but to take a hot shower and a nap. He knows he can’t, though. 

As well as he knows he isn’t alone. 

He plays it cool, walking in as though he doesn’t notice the person in the shadows. He drops his keys and phone on the nearest table as he would normally and turns around too abruptly to allow a reaction, his fist connecting to… someone’s palm.

“Nice reflexes, Baby Bird,” Jason says, quirking an eyebrow as though mildly impressed.

Tim groans. “Would it kill you to use the door?”

“It might, better not risk it.”

“It shaves five years of my life span every time I come home and you’re waiting in the shadows. Of all of Bruce’s habits to pick up…”

Jason simply shrugs. “So… what’s up,  honey? ”

“Ew, don’t say that,” Tim groans.

Keeping his nonchalant facade, Jason lets himself fall into Tim’s couch as though he belongs there. Tim heads to his room to change into more humane clothes.

“I’m assuming Dickie shared the news already,” Jason says.

“He couldn’t stop laughing long enough to say anything,” Tim replies from his closet. “Tam was kind enough to show me, though.”

“Tam… is that your ex-fianc��e? Hmm… The news sure keep shipping you with everyone, speaking of which.”

Grumbling the whole time, Tim puts on a purple hoodie he might or might not have stolen from Stephanie and that he wears whenever he’s stressed. He wears that hoodie a lot. Heading back to the living room barefoot and feeling slightly more prepared to deal with the situation, he says:

“I’m assuming you aren’t here just to hang out.”

Jason gives him an unimpressed look. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Tim blinks once. Twice.  No, it can’t be that… “ Everyone thinks you’re a rat.”

“Bingo.”

And this situation keeps getting better and better. Red Hood is feared enough that he can get away with hanging out with the goody two shoes every now and again and keep his rep. Being caught eating burgers and giggling with a hero was a whole new animal. 

They have to assume Hood’s safe houses were compromised as well. The point of having many hideouts is that you’re never left with nowhere to go, but even Jason wasn’t prepared to have everyone in his territory turn on him. That and they all had been raised and trained to be paranoid. It was too big of a risk to assume he’d be safe in a known place.

“Crap,” Tim mutters. 

“I considered ditching Gotham and spending some time with Roy instead…”

“But that would be as good as a confession. You’d never gain their respect again,” Tim completes for him.

Jason nods. 

The only silver-lining about this situation is that this is Jason. Granted he isn’t too angry to think, Jason is practical and willing to do what’s needed, even if it’s annoying or if it makes him uncomfortable. Tim likes working with him because of that.

“You know where the extra blankets are,” Tim says. 

Because, of course, if Jason can’t be at his own place and he can’t be with Roy and Kory, he’d crash Tim’s place. The manor isn’t really an option for him and Tim doesn’t blame him for that. 

“The plan of action?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure out.”

Jason sighs. “I’m going to punch something in your Red Robin cave.”

“Be my guest.”

 Damage control is necessary, of course, especially for Red Hood’s safety, but there is something bothering Tim more. He opens the news and studies the picture. It’s a damn good shot, almost looks like it was staged. He closes his eyes and tries to remember that night. In order to take that picture, the photographer would have to be in of of the buildings across the street and they’d have to be good enough to go unnoticed not by one, but by two highly trained vigilantes, one of which had his senses enhanced by the Lazarus pit. 

He messages Babs quickly for more info on whoever sent those pictures to the news, but not even Oracle had managed to track them yet. It sounds like the photographer walked into Vicki Vale on the street and handed her the picture, because there was no digital footprint of such interaction.

Without any more ideas, he puts on his suit and heads out, glad that is patrol night. Perhaps punching criminals will give him some clarity.

Tim is nowhere near closing any of his cases and Gotham is unusually quiet because of course the criminals would choose tonight of all nights to be chill. The night Tim needs a crime. That’s why he’s more than a little thankful when a crackling sound in his comm lets him know someone’s trying to send him a message.

“Hey, hot stuff,” a familiar voice calls, “I have an underground gambling den to dismantle tonight, you want in?”

Red Robin smiles. “Is that a date?”

“I don’t know, is it? I don’t want Red Hood coming after me.”

“Batgirl.”

She laughs shamelessly. He hopes Barbara isn’t listening. Although the alternative would be Wendy listening, and he doesn’t know which one would be worse. Steph’s sense of humor isn’t for everyone and while, Tim doesn’t mind their inside jokes and got used to her eternal flirting, he feels as though those should remain between the two of them only.

“I’m serious, though,” Steph continues. “I don’t think backup is needed per se, but I miss fighting criminals with you. Plus I figured you could use a punching bag or two.”

He grins. He just  really  loves Steph. 

“Send me the details. I’ll meet you there.”

Turns out it’s a pretty standard burst for them. Gambling den covering a massive drug operation, because this is Gotham. Why wouldn’t they use an illegal thing to cover another more illegal thing? That sounded like a great idea. 

He finds Batgirl waiting for him on top of a building. She simply smiles and points at the shady alley down the street. 

“Gentlemen first?” she offers. 

“It’s your case.”

With a nod, she dives towards the ground and Red Robin follows her closely, frowning in confusion when she doesn’t dropkicks any windows. Instead, she casually strolls towards the back of the alley where a suspicious metal door that could easily go unnoticed if it didn’t scream CRIMINAL ACTIVITY HERE. Batgirl knocks at the door and gestures at Red Robin to stay away.

A slit on the door slides open and a confused crook tries unsuccessfully to see who’s there. With both vigilantes’ out of his line of sight, the poor bastard has no option other than opening the door to check. Batgirl swiftly pulls him into a headlock as soon as he walks into view and Red Robin’s grinning face is the last thing the man sees before the pressured applied makes him pass out.

Red Robin doesn’t figure what Steph’s plan is until she cuffs the unconscious bouncer and stands straight, offering her arm.

“You’re so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes, even as he takes it.

“Shush, you think I’m awesome.”

That he does. Especially when the two of them climb down into the basement turned illegal cassino with their arms locked as if they’re a couple. It’s cartoonishly comic how long it takes everyone to realize Red Robin and Batgirl are standing on the entrance, looking around at the 50 different illegal activities happening at once. 

Not as comic as when Batgirl shouts over the music: “Please, don’t stop on our account!”

The gamblers sober enough to freeze in horror. 

“Before we start, anyone wants to just give themselves in?” Red Robin offers.

That’s when guns start firing and all hell breaks loose. 

 The night ends, as it would, with Batgirl and Red Robin walking home a trio of strippers. The women weren’t to blame that their work environment was less than ideal and they certainly didn’t need to be left tied up waiting for the GCPD like the mobsters Steph and Tim beat up tonight.

Red Robin wanted to just watch them from the top ot the buildings and make sure they got home safe, but Batgirl insisted they walked alongside the women. Their costumes don’t look completely out of place near them and Red Robin doesn’t know what to think of that.

For a second, he thinks he hears someone behind them. Everytime he turns around, he finds nothing but an empty alley, so he shrugs if off as him getting hit tooo many times.

While Batgirl excitedly chats with two of the women about their future employment - one of them is in this line of work just to get by, the other genuinely enjoys sensual dancing as a form of art but wishes she could work somewhere better - when the third of them discreetly detaches herself from the group to walk closer to Red Robin.

She still looks tense and guarded, her arms tightly wrapped around herself and Tim wishes he had a jacket to offer her. The way she sideeyes him says she wants to say something, but is too nervous to start. Not wanting to betray his persona, he simply waits, trying to appear as non threatening as possible.

“Thanks a lot for savin’ us, Red Robin,” the woman says finally. “I can’t believe I’m meetin’ ya.”

He gives her a small smile. “I’m just glad you’re safe, ma’am, there’s no need to thank me.”

“I just wanted ta say… I get ya.”

Red Robin tilts his head to the side. “Ma’am?”

“The thing with your man. Must ta’ be hard dating the Red Hood. I know how it is.”

He was… He was getting sympathy from a stripper with bad taste in men.

“There’s nothing gross between Hood and I!” He lets out before he can help himself, his voice a little louder than intended.

The other women startle at his outburst and turn to him, wary. One of them reaches for what is clearly a pocket knife that she thinks is cleverly hidden in her bra.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, ma’am, just… Batgirl, I believe you’ve got things from here. I’m taking off.”

She gives him a concerned look, but ultimately nods. Under Batgirl’s and the three strippers perplexed glares, Red Robin grapples his way out of there.

 Tim wakes up around noon feeling as though he was hit by a truck, as he does when he sleeps longer than three hours a night. He slowly sits up and looks around his messy room, wondering how come he’s feeling so miserable. The smell of food stirs him into some sort of alertness.

Right. He’s not home alone today.

Yawning and scratching his belly, he forces himself to get out of bed. He know that the longer he stays the more likely he is to slip into a coma, his body demanding compensation for years of sleep deprivation. Tim drags his feet towards his kitchen where he finds one of Gotham’s most dangerous vigilantes humming to himself as he makes breakfast. Or Lunch. Brunch. Whatever.

“And here I thought I was the family’s zombie,” Jason says in lieu of good morning.

Tim grumbles something about his brother being too comfortable in Tim’s kitchen, but he doesn’t dare complain. Jason is probably the only person that uses Tim’s stove and one of the perks of having him over is that he does cook. A lot. 

The one disadvantage about having Jason over is…

A knife lodges itself on the counter in front of Tim when he tries to reach for the coffee pot. Tim didn’t even see him throwing it. He glares at his brother.

“Food first. Coffee after,” Jason says. 

“I’m too nauseous to eat, I just woke up.”

Again without breaking eye contact with the pot he’s stirring, Jason blindly reaches for a package of crackers casually left on the counter and hands it to Tim.

Tim makes sure to give him his best rebellious teenager glare before grabbing the stupid crackers and sitting down to eat them. Stupid Jason with his stupid boredom. Tim had forgotten Jason goes into full mom mode when he has nothing else to do and that he’s particularly obnoxious about Tim’s eating habits.

“I consume the necessary calories,” Tim mumbles over his cracker.

“Okay, Damian.”

Tim throws a cracker at him. Jason easily dodges without looking, which is kind of annoying.

After that, the two brothers fall into comfortable silence. Tim knows Jason wants to talk about their plan of action, but he knows Tim is nowhere near awake enough to hold a conversation. Besides, Jason doesn’t like being bothered while he’s cooking anyway.

By the time the food is ready, the crackers worked their magic and Tim no longer feels as though his stomach is ready to puke out its emptiness. He grabs dishes he hadn’t used in quite a while and sets the table for the two of them. The brothers start eating in silence, Tim slowly recovering his sense of self - no wonder he goes for so long without sleeping, he takes too long to reboot when he does - and Jason mindlessly scrolling through his phone. 

Then something on the small screen makes Jason choke on his food. 

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Hm… Timmy, you may wanna take a look at this.”

“What?” Tim takes Jason’s phone. “Oh, for fuck’s sake !” 

It’s another news article. The picture is fortunately less detailed, just a red and black silhouette against Gotham’s sky that may or may not be Red Robin standing over one of the many gargoyles. The text, however.  

RED ROBIN MAKES HOMOPHOBIC REMARK AND SHOCKS ADMIRER

Gotham’s newest vigilante busted an underground gambling den last night. Despite his heroic deed, his words after the fact were less than commendable. When questioned about his relationship with the Red Hood by one of the women he rescued, the hero allegedly said that there’s “Nothing gross between him and Hood.”

“Personally, I was shocked,” said the woman in question, Krystal Math, 25  years old. “Red Robin became my favorite hero when I heard he also has a dead-beat boyfriend. I was starting to finally see myself in one of those bats, you know? I couldn’t believe when he said being gay is gross. Never meet your heroes, I guess.”

   THE BIRDNEST

WonderWing sent a screenshot.

WonderWing: red robin is cancelled for homophobia, pass it on

Robin: Good. It’s about time we rid ourselves of him.

Cassandra Cain: Little brother does not approve gay rights? :(

yumm: im literally bisexual

spoiler alert: he avoiding the question

in the hood: #redrobinisoverparty

yumm: I hate this fucking family

 Tim hasn’t stopped pacing around the room since he read the most recent article. Those were his exact words by the letter, meaning someone had been listening. He doubts Krystal, bless her heart, was the one going to the news with his “homophobic remark”. 

Having basically given up on getting Tim to calm down, Jason is the one to get the porch door open for Steph. Because apparently she’s been learning from Jason and acquired his hatred for front doors. Steph knows how Tim gets, so she promptly ignores him and gets comfortable on the reading chair to check the article fully.

“This is nuts,” Steph says. “We were being careful. I made sure of it.”

Tim believes her. Batman and Robin are basically public figures at this point, even if they don’t interact with civilians if they can help it. Red Robin and the Signal were heard of and spotted around the city, but not a lot of people really  know  of them. Red Hood was basically a urban legend until recently and Black Bat sill is. Batgirl, however, is known for being a people hero. 

She was, back in Barbara’s time, stopped for a bit with Cass, but Steph embraced the old tradition whole heartedly. She would walk people home late at night to make sure they were safe, wave at little girls in the bus, talk to kidnapping victims until they were under heavy blankets handed by the police. Steph was extroverted and charming and she used that fully as Batgirl like she never could as Spoiler. That being said, she and Barbara always made a point to avoid pictures, security cameras and whatnot. If there was a hero good at hanging with civilians while unnoticed by the media, that hero was Stephanie Brown.

Tim’s phone is buzzing. He ignores it in favor of stomping around some more. 

“Well, something must have slipped your watchful eye,” Jason says, shrugging.

Steph glares at him. “Mine, perhaps, but are you implying someone went unnoticed by Oracle?”

“Well, someone obviously did,” Tim snaps, tossing his phone at the couch in frustration. “What happened after I left, Steph?”

“Nothing,” she says honestly. “I walked the ladies home. Krystal was a bit miffed but she didn’t say anything, so I thought she was just a shipper upset that her OTP wasn’t canon.”

“You think she went to the news after?” Jason suggests.

Steph frowns. “Why would she? She didn’t look like she had media connections exactly.”  

Tim’s phone, that bounced off the couch and fell with a soft thud on the carpet, continues to explode with texts. He sighs and stops to pick it up and finally answer them.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Jason argues. Then turns to Tim: “You should look into her. I’m gonna check other possible sources.”

“Hm-hum, just a second,” Tim mumbles, typing furiously. “Damian is being a nightmare and asking for help on a case.”

“Wack. Are you telling him to solve his own cases instead of using your intell to impress Bruce?”

Tim glares at Jason.

“Really? C’mon, Timmy, we’ve been over this.”

Stephanie gives them a puzzled look. “You’ve been over… Dami being a nightmare?”

“Jason says that whenever someone is mean to me I should reply by attacking them where hurts the most,” Tim explains.

“He knows all of our weaknesses and he has the quickest thinking,” Jason says, frustrated. “The least he should do is stand up for himself with that knowledge!”

"Kinda rich coming from the guy that tried to kill him," Steph says, quirking an eyebrow.

"Steph," Tim scowls. "He didn't know me then and the pit rage--"

"Timmy," Jason cuts him off. 

Tim sighs. "Besides now I could off him in 20 different ways if he tried any of that shit again. There. Happy, Jason?"

"That's my baby brother."

Steph smiles at him. “You know what? You’re onto something, Jaybird.”

Tim interrupts his walk of worry again to smile a bit. Something about Stephanie and Jason agreeing on something is immensely satisfying.

Still, on the matter at hand, Tim says, “If I go off on Damian, Dick’s gonna get mad…”

“Then go off on Dick as well,” Steph promptly suggests.

Jason high-fives her. “Atta girl. Besides if Dick doesn’t want us to tell Damian to fuck off he has to work harder on teaching him not to be a little shit. Everyone here has a tragic backstory here and we all know Damian goes too far sometimes.”

Tim shakes his head again. “Regardless, Damian’s case will have to wait. We’re gonna go with your plan, Jay. And Steph…”

“Wow, no way, José. I’m just here as an eyewitness. I don’t want to get involved with homophobes and end up shipped with Jason or some shit.”

Tim glares at her. “I was going to offer you some of our leftovers, but since you’re not interested, that’s fine.”

While Jason laughs and Steph protests, he proceeds to look for his laptop, hoping this isn’t going to be a dead end. 

 “This is a dead end,” Tim declares.

From what he can find, Krystal wasn’t even paid for her impromptu interview. Apparently Vicki Vale showed up at her place to confirm the veracity of a story that she heard God knows where. 

Dick is in Bludhaven, but he insisted on facetiming them when he realized his brothers were struggling, even if he mostly just made worried faces from Tim’s phone as Tim, Jason and Steph exchanged notes. As a rule of thumb, Tim doesn’t involve his siblings in his cases since he became Red Robin, but this is definitely an all hands on deck situation. Tim isn’t desperate enough to get Bruce involved, but he’s getting there. Especially when Dick says:

“Babs couldn’t find anything in Vicki’s email or phone. She’s double checking all of Vicki's sources, but so far it’s been no good.”

“We could always get Vale and hang her by the ankles on top of some building until she talks,” Jason suggests. "Let's go old school on her."

Everyone ignores Jason. Tim stands for another mug of coffee. Dick lets out a frustrated sigh. Steph keeps watching all of them from the couch, where she’s been lying down and tossing gummy bears into her mouth for the past half-hour. 

When no one acknowledges him, Jason sighs and stands. “Alright, this’ been fun. I’m going to patrol.”

Dick frowns. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“He can’t vanish,” Steph says. “One thing is crashing Tim’s place to make sure he won’t get ambushed in his down time. If Red Hood goes AWOL he might as well admit he’s working with the Batclan.”

Jason nods. “If I don’t do my job, next thing I know Black Mask takes over my stuff.” 

“Can’t have Black Mask taking over his stuff,” Steph agrees.

Dick glances at Tim as though expecting him to disagree with the plan. Tim lets out a defeated sigh. “He’s right. Just… make sure to find a safe place to change into your gear so no one sees you. If there are any safe places, that is…”

Jason rolls his eyes. Tim knows he’s going full Robbie Downer mode, as Jason likes to call it, but he can’t help it. It’s not often that he finds himself without any ideas. He  should  have been able to solve this already. Since nothing comes to mind, he starts imagining unrealistic scenarios in hopes that they’ll give him some insight outside of the box.  AU in which I was never shipped with my brother by some nosey reporter. AU in which I went out Damian instead of Jason that night.

Tim groans in frustration. “Why did it have to be Jason? We could get away with me having a thumb war with literally anyone. If it was Batman out there, this wouldn’t be that much of a problem.”

“Maybe if you hung out with all your brothers and not just Jason there wouldn’t be as many rumors about you and Red Hood,” Dick mumbles.

Tim glares at the phone. 

“Really? You wanna go there? You wanna talk favoritism, Richard? Because you’ve been favoring Damian for-freaking-ever.”

“Drag him!” Jason cheers. 

“Tim,” Dick says, looking genuinely upset, “I love all-”

“Save it,” Steph cuts in. “We all have favorites Dick, there is no use denying it.”

Because Dick’s eyebrows are knitted in confusion, Tim clarifies: “Bruce’s favorite is Cass, yours is Damian, Jason’s is… I don’t know, his guns. Steph is my favorite, unfortunately. Steph’s favorite is Cass, Cass’ favorite is Duke, Duke doesn’t have favorites, he’s the only good person in this family, and Damian’s is also you.”

Steph nods. “You did it! You broke the Bat Family dynamics to its bare essentials!”

“And that is why Tim is my favorite. After my guns,” Jason adds.

“Jason, we do not rate our siblings.”

“That’s why you’re in last place, Dick.”

Ignoring Dick’s enraged noises, Tim sets his mug aside. “I’m going patrolling, even if today isn't my turn. Solo this time. Hopefully Red Hood and Red Robin being separate out there will help the rumors die down a bit.”

No one has a better idea - Tim’s least favorite sentence - so that’s what they do. 

 It’s another infuriatingly quiet night.

Red Robin stops a couple of muggings, scares the crap out of some drug dealers. At some point, he considers contacting Poison Ivy and asking if she has any corrupt CEO she wants help with. He could, you know. It’d stop Ivy from killing someone and on his last run with Harley Quinn she did let slip that Tim was Ivy’s favorite Robin. 

He almost falls mid swing at the memory, thinking he might be onto something, but then he remembers Harley hadn’t particularly recognized Red Robin as the third Robin. She was just ranting about how the new tiny Robin had no sense of humor and Ivy missed the last one. Besides of course Harley Quinn wasn’t feeding Vicki Vale some BatFanfic. Tim’s brain must be really burnt out if that’s the best hot take it can come up with. 

It’s almost 3am and he’s taking a pair of muggers that can’t be much older than Tim to the police. He’s about ready to call if a night when someone shouts:

“Red Robin!” 

He looks on instinct and his stomach drops when he sees Vicki Vale running towards him.  Crap.

“Red Robin, can I get a statement?”

He keeps walking. He’s just one dirty alley away from GCPD, otherwise he’d just tie the stupid muggers to his back and would use his grappling hook to get out of the situation, grapple safety be damned. The muggers gingerly attempt to hide their faces as the reporter runs to them swinging a digital recorder. Vicki acts as though she can’t see them.

“Red Robin, what do you have to say about the rumors of your relationship with the Red Hood?”

The rumors you created?  Red Robin quickens his pace and the muggers trip over themselves. He stares straight ahead, pretending he doesn’t notice the woman basically running in heels to keep up with him. 

“Are you ashamed of it? Is it because he’s a criminal or because he’s a man?”

Red Robin wonders if the muggers would walk the rest of the way and turn themselves in if he asked nicely.

“Don’t bother, lady,” one of the muggers says. “He’s a nasty bigot.”

The other mugger  nods and the two of them are wearing matching pouty expressions. Now Tim just feels bad. He didn’t become a hero for the recognition and he’s not in the business of doing PSAs like Superman, but he doesn’t want the strange socially woke criminal youth of Gotham to think they’re being arrested by a homophobe.

“I have no problem with two men in a relationship, I’m bisexual,” he tells the muggers. “Still, I’m not dating Red Hood. Just because I’m bi it doesn’t mean I’m dating every male vigilante I run into.”

At that, the two crooks look mildly surprised and suddenly they seem to feel a bit better about being arrested. Would you look at that. 

Red Robin delivers them to the police, painfully aware that Vicki Vale is nowhere to be found anymore. He feels like he’s going to pay dearly for being too prideful to let himself be mistaken for a heterosexual person. 

 Lo and behold, Twitter, on that very same morning.

@Gotham_Gazette:

Red Robin hints that he might be bisexual. “No, I’m not dating the Red Hood, just because I’m bi it doesn’t mean I’m dating every male vigilante,” said the hero on the rumors about his relationship.

        @dgraysonman hints??? he literally said he’s bi smh

        @stephssss wow only the male vigilantes? biphobic. let red robin date batgirl too

        @babsgeez be gay do crime, be bi serve justice

        @thomascommaduke no cops at pride, only Red Robin using a bi flag as cape.

“Timmy…” Jason starts.

“Don’t. Just leave me alone to die.”

“That’s fair, have a nice day.”

 At this point, Tim is surprised Bruce hasn’t intervened. As unaware of social media as Bruce can be, he’s always on the look for anything that might compromise their secret identities. Tim pulls two all-nighters in a row doing detective work and still makes no progress on his search for the person that sent Vicki that picture and overheard his conversation with Krystal. He fully expects Batman to jump him on his next patrol and give him a lecture.

When he comments that to Jason, he gets a confused look in response.

“You didn’t get a lecture? Bruce was the one that told me first. I had to hear about being careless for 20 minutes before I got home and could take off my comm.”

Tim frowns in confusion. Bruce had talked to him once or twice after the news got out and he didn’t comment anything on it. 

“That’s Batman’s psychological profiling,” someone suggests. 

Tim almost jumps out of his skin when Steph casually walks into the living room with a bowl of chips. 

“What are you doing here? And are those my clothes?”

Steph shrugs in the sweater that clearly doesn’t belong to her. “Jason and I are doing movie night.”

“Movie night,” Jason mocks. “She’s been here for the past two days. Did you seriously not notice, Tim?”

Tim’s jaw drops. 

Steph sighs and her expression turns guilty. “Fine. My mom is out of town for the week and Jason is a better cook than I am. Is it a crime to bum off your ex-boyfriend and his bizarrely talented in the kitchen brother?”

Before Tim can say anything, Jason interrupts: “What were you saying about Batman, Steph?”

She heads to the couch and starts looking for the remote, her feet propped on the coffee table. “B knows Jay will just shrug it off and deal with the consequences, hence the need of a lecture. If he annoys Jason, he’ll stop and reflect on it, even if out of rage. He knows Tim’s already overthinking and working his butt off to fix it, so he doesn’t want to add any pressure.”

Both Jason and Tim stand in dumbfounded silence.  Since when does Steph know Bruce so well?

She raises her gaze when the quietness stretches and quirks an eyebrow at them. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Hm. No. That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing,” Jason admits, if a big begrudgingly. “That’s annoying though.”

Steph simply makes a dismissive gesture and pats the sit beside her. “Tim, you need a break. Wanna join us?”

Tim hesitates. On one hand, the fact that Bruce trusts him that much is a tad touching… and knowing it makes him feel he has to solve this as soon as possible. On another… it’s kind of annoying that Bruce knows him so well and yet doesn’t think about offering any assistance. Tim is not stubborn enough to refuse a helping hand when he’s on a pinch.

“You’re not going to solve anything if you’re hallucinating from sleep deprivation, Timbers,” Jason points. “Besides we’re watching Avatar.”

“Fine,” Tim says.

If for nothing else, just to prove to Bruce that he’s  not an overworker and he can slack off in the absence of a parental figure.

Tim falls asleep in the middle of the second episode. Steph and Jason vow to take him to bed once they’re sure he’s completely out, but they only last until the end of the first season. The three sleep soundly on the couch for good eight hours and regret dearly when they wake up with necks too sore to fight crime for at least a day.

 Consequences. They always come.

Almost a week goes by in which the rumors are but an annoyance to Jason and a source of stress to Tim - but almost anything can stress Tim if he tries hard enough, so that’s not saying anything. Jason is still staying at Tim’s, but he’s considering going back to his own place when they go for three days with no new article and nothing unusual has happened. 

Until it does. 

It’ a rainy night Tim is going over reports for the next WE meeting when he hears a noise coming from the balcony. His stomach gives a familiar twist when he recognizes Batgirl hunched over the weight of one Red Hood. 

He rushes to her aid, already feeling nauseous. There’s no blood in sight but whatever happened must be serious if Jason is willing to let Batgirl give him a piggyback ride. Tim lets them drip water all over the floor and, in his panic, has half a mind to appreciate that Batgirl’s boots have enough traction that she doesn’t slip.

“What on Earth…”

“The most ridiculous thing,” Steph bables as she and Tim drag a very dizzy Jason to the couch. She then starts ranting so fast Bart Allen would be proud. “He was doing his thing as usual, but some of his people turned on him and there was an ambush and so many flipping people against one poor Hood and good god that guy shot his helmet at point-blank which,  damn , that was so stupid, of course the freaking helmet is bullet proof, it just ricocheted and…”

“Steph, calm down,” Tim interrupts. “Jason, can you report?”

When he gingerly attempts to take off his helmet, Steph takes over and undoes the safety measures before carefully removing it. There is a dent on the back part where he had been presumably shot. 

“Hm,” Jason grunts, squinting even behind his domino mask. “Ambush. Shot. Concussion. Very concussion. Ankle hurts? Prolly not broken, tho. Also stabbed?”

Tim nods. “Steph, get the medical supplies. Where’s the stab wound, Jay?”

Jason points to his thigh and there is an improvised bandage keeping him from losing too much blood. Considering how well done it is, Tim figures it’s Steph’s work. He nods and starts checking his brother’s vitals and making sure there aren’t other serious wounds.

When she comes back with the supplies Tim needs, Steph has her cowl down and a somber expression. She turns off the lights for Jason’s sake, the only source of light left on being the lamp near where Tim is already ripping off a piece of Jason’s pants to have better access to his wound. Steph sits by Jason’s side and grabs his hand, much to Tim’s surprise. He’s too busy taking care of the stab wound to ask, but he doesn’t have to. Steph breaks the silence:

“I’m so sorry, Jason.”

Jason gives her a confused look. “You saved my ass?”

“Yes, but…” Steph sighs and turns to Tim. “Babs is with the Birds of Prey tonight, so I was on my own. I was messing around with my comm frequency when I accidentally got into Jason’s. I heard the mess and it sounded like he was in trouble so I panicked. I went to get him and… Well, if there was any doubt that he’s working with the Bats, there isn’t now. It was too obvious that I was protecting him.”

Jason squeezes her hand. “Hm. Pigs.”

“Right. Then the police arrived and instead of leaving right away I stopped to make sure Jason wasn’t bleeding to death. More than a few cops saw me patching him up.”

Tim sighs. Well, shit. 

“It’s not your fault, Steph,” Tim says. “I mean… he literally wears a bat on his chest. People were bound to find out it isn’t just to stick it to Batman.”

“Is too,” Jason mumbles.

Tim ignores him. “The situation isn’t ideal, but we all prefer people knowing Red Hood is associated with the Bats than him being dead.”

“I died before.”

“We know, Jay.”

“Do not recommend.”

“We know, Jay.”

Steph fidgets a bit, still looking guilty, but ultimately nods. Tim is about to start stitching Jason’s wound closed when she says: “There’s more. You, hm, you know Renee Montoya?”

“The one valid pig,” Jason says. “I like her.”

“She was there. She helped a ton keep the other cops away from us before we could escape,” Steph says. “I think she wanted to check on Jason and…”

Tim stops moving. He knows Montoya, worked with her before and she’s a nice woman. That being said, she doesn’t have any connections to Hood. Why would she… Oh. The gay rumors. Damn wlw/mlm solidarity.

“What happened?” Tim asks, already fearing the worst.

“Hmmm, we’ll tell you, but I’m concussed, so you have to promise you won’t be mad.”

“Jason.”

Jason sighs. “Well. She asked about our relationship and… Hm. I might have told her we’re brothers.”

Tim stares at them. Steph is cringing and Jason is too out of it to care. At this point… Tim starts laughing, making the other two - even the concussed one - frown in worry.

“Aw, man,” Tim says between chuckles.  “What the fuck, am I right? I’m too old for this. Who cares? Not me! Fuck it. Fuckety fuck fucky-fuck.”

“I think we broke him,” Steph whispers even as Tim resumes stitching his brother.

They went from not-sure-if-real to a freaking cop knowing about their family in the span of a week. Tomorrow #TimDrakeIsRedRobin could be trending on Twitter and Tim wouldn’t care. Not anymore. Let them come.Literally everyone in his friend circle is a vigilante, a hero or a criminal at this point, he doesn’t even care about endangering anyone.

 It takes actually two days for it to hit the news. He’s alone in his office when Tam texts him a link to Gotham Gazette online. Judging by the lack of other words, Tim figures she’s cutting ties with him again.  

The newest article has no actual pictures, but a sketch of Red Hood standing with his guns pointed at the viewer and Red Robin standing behind him, his face only partially turned. The thing looks more like superhero fanart than an official sketch, but that never stopped Vicki Vale before.

 VIGILANTE FAMILY? by Vicki Vale

Red Robin, one of Gotham’s many masked vigilantes, was cause of intrigue recently. Many  people noticed the hero doing his work around Red Hood’s territory, something not even Batman dares on the regular. Speculation turned into a craze of theories when both red-themed vigilantes were caught sitting on a roof sharing a meal from Batburger and many thought perhaps there was more than your regular vigilante team up. 

Turns out the hero and the mob boss aren’t lovers, against popular belief. When questioned about the nature of their relationship, Red Hood snapped and confirmed one of the less popular theories: the two men are, in fact, related. “Red is right and he should say it,” said Red Hood to a bewildered policewoman. “Of course he’d say it’s [REDACTED] gross, he’s my little brother.” When asked about the conversation overheard by our reporter, the policewoman in question refused to give any more details and requested to remain anonymous.

It’s hard to be sure how such development came to be. The Red Hood has been active in Gotham for years as a mob boss and, more recently, a vigilante and ally to Gotham’s bats. While Red Robin is a newer vigilante, could it be that he was trained by the Red Hood? And how do the two brothers fit with Gotham’s oldest vigilantes? Unlike his older counterpart, Red Robin has been often spotted working side-by-side with the likes of Batgirl and Robin, making some question whether Red Robin is distancing himself from his criminal brother. However, sources spotted Hood being aided by Batgirl more recently. Could it be that his former sidekick is bringing Red Hood closer to the side of justice? More on the Red Twins as the story develops.

 THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert: RED TWINS

WonderWing: R E D  T W I N S

send me a Signal: ~ * R E D T W I N S * ~

in the hood: uhhhh my bad?

yumm: dis is great

yumm: now im hoods stranged sidekick

yumm: i fucking hate u jason.

in the hood: hey, if you didn't want to be my sidekick you should've picked another color

yumm: screw u u dont own the color red

in the hood: I was born first

yumm: u died first 2

WonderWing: Tim!

spoiler alert: oof 

send me a Signal: wow Tim that was too far

in the hood: I’ve never been prouder to be your brother I taught you so well Timmy

send me a Signal: … I stand corrected. I sometimes forget everyone in this family is clinically insane

 “Hey Tim. There is discourse about you and Jason now.”

Tim lets out a whimper. 

“So apparently some people still ship you two. But those people are being cancelled because shipping incest is problematic.”

“Steph, are you planning on going home? I noticed you took one of my drawers.”

“There’s fanart of you two.”

“I don’t want to see it. That'll scar me for life."

“I’m DMing it to you. By the way there is civilian Red Robin fanart and for some reason they made you blonde.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I guess it’s more fun to ship people with different hair colors. Should we dye your hair?”

“Why.”

“That way when you finally hook up with Co-”

“Finish that sentence and I kick you out of this apartment for good.”

 With the cat out of the bag, they start doing different damage control. 

Red Hood is now openly working with the Bats, so Steph and Cass dismantle Hood’s former safehouses around Gotham which mostly means getting Jason’s books and bringing them to Tim’s place. Jason suggests the places should be converted into something useful for the neighborhood, such as libraries or a community center of sorts, so Tim starts working on what needs to be done by WE to make that reality. Tim also makes sure Bruce pretends not to know Jason is using a lot of money illegally acquired to getting himself new hideouts.

They dance around the topic a lot and nothing is really said until Steph brings it up. Steph, whose mother returned days ago. Steph, that definitely doesn’t want Jason to leave, because apparently she suddenly has a new favorite ex-Robin. Steph, that is currently eating homemade waffles in Tim’s kitchen, even though Tim is 83% sure she didn’t sleep over last night.

“Why doesn’t Jason just moves in?” she asks.

When neither boy replies immediately, she continues:

“I mean, it’s more practical, isn’t it? Tim’s place is already secure, he has a hero hideout downstairs and you two already work together all the damn time. Tim’s office can be converted into a room for Jason, because, let’s face it, I spend most of my free time here and Tim never uses it. I once saw him take his laptop with him to the bathroom and then return to the kitchen table instead of using the office. We wouldn’t even have to take the shelves, because Jason would fill them.”

They exchange a look. 

“You know, she’s right,” Tim says. He shrugs like it’s no big deal, really.

He isn’t nervous at all while Jason stands there, his expression unreadable. It’s not like he enjoys way too much having his brother around and got way too comfortable with having a roommate and a half (if you count Steph) on the past weeks. Tim doesn’t care, he’s cool like that.

“I mean. I guess having you as a roommate beats living alone,” Jason finally says.

Tim fails to hide his grin. “We can start working in turning the office into a room this weekend.”

Jason smiles back and messes his hair. 

Tim’s first theory is that Steph wants Jason off the couch so she has an official place to sleep, because apparently Jason’s cooking is that good.

His second theory is that she noticed how happy Tim is to finally share a house with family. The Wayne Manor had been home for a while, sure, but despite Alfred’s best efforts the place wasn’t the coziest. It wasn’t the same as sharing an apartment with a brother, bickering about sharing chores and openly discussing their night jobs before shifting the conversation to a video game they want to buy. Sharing actual meals and making sure one another wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch.

Tim decides to stick with his first theory, after all it’s easier for Steph to make Red Twins jokes if Jason and Tim are under the same roof. 

 Even without new gossip, the idea of vigilante brothers is too interesting for the general public to let go. Tim and Jason start acting mostly in the shadows and having no interaction with civilians at all and they’re still the topic of Gotham’s variety shows and online discussions from time to time.

Because they don’t slip again, Bruce has yet to bring up the subject with Tim, but the mystery remains. Who listened to all those conversations and how? Tim keeps expecting the other shoe to drop, to get a message demanding ransom for their secret identities, something,  anything , but nothing happens. Nothing freaking happens and he’s never been this frustrated.

That is, until, it happens. The ultimate betrayal. 

Dick’s next visit coincides with the time Cass is over for the week. Because Bruce is secretly a sap in the wrongest way, he suggests they all go patrolling together. Such great family time. 

Despite their initial protests, they must all be the same kind of freak, because they all agree. They split up soon to cover more ground, but keep their comms on so it still feels they’re all in a big menacing group. 

Red Robin is somewhere near the crime alley when Nightwing announces he noticed some of Two Face’s goons getting into a building. He checks his wrist pad for their locations and notices Nightwing isn’t that far from where he is. The next closest person is Red Hood.

“I’ll take care of it,” Nightwing says over the comms.

“Negative. Two Face himself might be there,” Batman intervenes. “Wait for backup. The Red Twins--” And he stops himself as though realizing what he’s saying.

“Batman!?” Red Robin gasps in a betrayed voice. 

Nightwing is already having a laughter fit over the comms almost drowning the sound of Bruce’s disappointed sigh.

“I’m sorry, Red,” his father says and he even forgets to use Batman’s scary voice. “Nightwing and Batgirl have been saying it so much that-”

“Save it,” Hood groans. “And stop laughing, Jerkwing!”

The worst part is knowing that, even if he solves the mystery, the Red Twins thing is probably going to follow him to his untimely death. 

 Tim all but lost hope when he gets an email from Barbara. “To my favorite Red Twin” says the subject. He groans, but opens the email, because one does not simply ignore a message from Oracle. Then he almost drops his phone. 

Attached there is a grainy picture of a young woman talking to Vicki Vale. The image had certainly been enhanced digitally as it’s probably from a shitty security camera, but you can still see the woman’s face clear as day. She looks like she’s handing Vicki something, her shoulders tense and her expression wary. The body of the message is, most likely, the woman’s personal info. Her name is Lisa Harris. She is 27 years old. She lives somewhat close to Jason’s territory. And, most importantly, Babs added to the end of the message:

The picture is from the night before the Red Twins article ;) Vicki didn’t talk to anyone other than her coworkers and our pal Lisa on that night.

Jason comes out of his room when Tim trips on the coffee table in his hurry to stand. “What’s up?”

Tim hands him the phone. Jason’s eyes grow wide. “I don’t care about subtlety. We’re both going after this chick.”

“Agreed.”

“Should we wait for Steph? She’s gonna be mad that we went when she’s in class.”

“Jason, Steph doesn’t live here.”

“Doesn’t she, though?”

“We’re not waiting for Steph. She’s not involved.”

“Aight, but when she’s bitching I’m gonna say I remembered her and you said no.”

 They leave their bikes behind first for stealth sake, but mostly because the place they’re going isn’t that far from their place. Tim shivers at the thought of someone so dangerous living near him. He wonders what kind of information Lisa might have gathered and for how long she’d been watching them. Is she a new enemy? Perhaps a member of the league?

The shitty building she lives in doesn’t suggest that. It’s just another grimy Gotham apartment complex that didn’t age well. The place they’re looking for doesn’t have a balcony, only a useless fire escape so rusty it would probably crumble under any sign of flames. It’s a perfect hiding spot, because nothing suggests a villain lives there. It’s just a building, home to many underpaid bachelors, nothing too suspicious about it.

Red Robin reminds Hood of that before they nod to each other and split. Jason goes into the building with a ton of confidence, for such a big guy trying to go unnoticed. Tim uses his grapple to reach the right window, not trusting that fire escape for even a second. 

The window is open and he finds himself looking at a place not that different from the one Jason lived before moving in with Tim. Mismatched furniture of the living suggests whoever lives there didn’t have money for fancy decor or that they don’t mind how the place looks. However, something about the place looks… well, lived in. It doesn’t look like a criminal temporary hideout, but rather someone’s place.

As he hesitates, a woman walks in. The woman of the picture, Lisa Harris. Her long blonde hair had been tied in a knot on top of her head and she’s getting ready for bed, if her oversized T-shirt and pajama pants say anything. She’s holding a bowl of cereal.

She reminds him of Steph and that causes him to hesitate for a second. What if this girl is innocent? Their evidence is circumstantial. Maybe she just happened to talk to Vicki Vale at the wrong time.

That hesitation costs him dearly. The woman appears to feel his eyes burning the back of her head. She glances at the window and their gazes meet.

Crap. 

Lisa inhales sharply and drops her cereal bowl. Before he can reassure her of anything, she’s bolting for the door. He pats himself in the back for his backup plan, because just as she opens the door she runs right into Red Hood’s chest. Lisa stumbles backwards, her expression horrified.

“Knock knock?” Hood quips.

She lets out a squeak and guilt makes Tim wince. Once again he opens his mouth to tell her they’re not here to hurt her when she… vanishes. 

She simply disappears right in front of their eyes.

“Shit, she’s a meta,” Hood hisses. 

Red Robin’s thoughts fly a thousand miles per hour, finally making the conexions he stupidly missed for so long. Of  freaking course.  He was so used to dealing with a bunch of idiots in colorful costumes and assassins and whatnot he hadn’t taken in consideration that ninjas aren’t the only exceptional enemies they face. And if his theory is correct. 

“She’s still here,” he says. “If I’m right, she can turn invisible. That’s how she’s been listening to private conversations.”

A soft gasp follows his statement and Hood is moving almost as fast as Red Robin’s insights. An invisible woman is still solid and her clumsy footsteps are still audible, so on the moment that follows Jason seems to embrace air. 

“No!” She cries out, flashing in and out of sight for a few seconds.

“Careful,” Red Robin warns.

Hood is wearing his helmet, but Tim knows him well enough to know his brother is glaring at him as if saying  duh?  

Lisa tries to stomp on Hood’s feet, she squirms and grunts, but he doesn't budge. Apparently invisibility is her only power and she looks terrified.

“It’s okay!” Red Robin hurries to say. “We’re not going to hurt you!”

She turns her frantic gaze to him. Her brown eyes suddenly become watery. 

Shit.

“Hood, let her go,” Red Robin says. 

“Seriously?”

“Yes. You’re not going to try to escape again, are you, Lisa? We just want to ask a few questions.”

He wishes they had waited for Steph.

Lisa hesitates, paralysed, but slowly nods. Her eyes never leave Red Robin once their gazes met, not even to check whether Hood is going to let her go or not.

“Hood,” he calls again. 

Groaning something about being too trusting, Jason lets her go. He is gentle about it, too, making sure to let her feet touch the floor carefully instead of simply dropping her. Regardless, as soon as she’s left to stand on her own legs, her knees give in and she drops on the floor. At that, Tim can tell even Jason is hiding guilt behind his helmet.

He shakes his head to regain focus and crouches in front of the woman. If at this point they just apologize and leave, they’ll have traumatizes this poor woman for nothing.

“Lisa Harris,” he starts. “That’s your name, right?”

She trembles when he says her name and that should have been the first red flag. He blames it on the stressful situation and moves on.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he says. He keeps his expression empty, even if he again can tell Jason is cringing at the understatement. “No one here is going to hurt you. We just want some answers. Is that alright?”

Her hands are balled tightly on her lap as though she’s making a lot of effort not to move them - perhaps to punch them, defend herself? But again she doesn’t look prone to start a fight.

“You’re him,” she whispers, her voice heavy with… something. It almost sounds like affection. “You’re really the Red Robin. In my room.”

That  red flag is harder to ignore. He is about to check for other shock symptoms when Hood calls.

“Hmm… Red? Are you seeing that?”

He follows his brother’s gaze… and his chin drops. On the wall opposite to the door hangs a giant corkboard. On the corkboard, held by black and red tacks there are dozens of Red Robin pictures. Some blurry, some taken from so far that you can barely be sure it’s really Red Robin or not, the infamous picture of the thumb war (demon horns had been disturbingly scribbled on Jason on that one) and… He doesn’t have words. 

“You’re my hero!” Lisa claims.

“Is he? I couldn’t tell,” Hood says.

Red Robin punches his knee, which is all he can reach from where he is, and turns his attention to the woman in front of him.

“Lisa, for how long have you been following me?”

“Since you saved me,” she says. “Well… Hm. You didn’t save me. But you stopped a heist at the Central Bank a couple of months ago and I was there. I could've died without you.”

Aw, crap on a stick.

“Do you… do you know who I am?”

“You’re Red Robin,” she repeats.

“He’s asking about his identity behind the mask.”

The way she glares at Jason doesn’t suggest she had been shaking in fear moments ago. “He’s Red Robin,” she insists. “I don’t need anything else.”

“If you don’t know… how do you have so many…” Hood gestures vaguely at her creepy corkboard.

“I did detective work,” she says and glances at Red Robin as if expecting a pat on the back. “I noticed you always go on patrol on mondays, wednesdays, fridays and saturdays. Then if I wandered around long enough… It was just a matter of hard work and bit of luck, really.”

Damn. Now that Tim thinks about it, the one time he went on patrol spontaneously was also the night Vicki Vale found him by coincidence rather than magically knowing what happened. 

“Fuuuuck,” Hood groans. “I told B patrol schedule was a dumb idea!” Then, in a deep growly voice, “ It’s a matter of efficiency Hood, don’t be paranoid. Who’s paranoid now, Batloser?”

“Not the time, Hood.”

“Right. Proceed.”

Red Robin sighs. “Why did you sell my pictures to Vicki Vale?”

At that, Lisa looks suddenly ashamed. “I.. I’m sorry. I thought… I thought you were  involved  with  him  and I panicked. I thought… I thought seeing what it would do to your reputation would make you see that he’s not good enough for you.”

“Rude.”

“Hood.”

“What? She is.”

“I was trying to learn more about him, you know? I was. When I found out he was your brother, I realized you had no option, right? Family is family. I even told the news again to clean your record.”

So he had a stalker. A stalker concerned about his love life, no less, that’s… great. Just great. Of all the scenarios he considered they’d have to face, this is not one of them. Before he decides what to do, however, Lisa speaks up again. 

“You sound so… nice.”

Tim stares at her in confusion, unsure whether to thank her or not. Regardless, she didn’t sound like she was complimenting him.

“I mean… aren’t I supposed to be?”

“No! I mean… you’re… you’re dark and brooding and serious and you don’t waste time with civilians unless forced…” She frowns and Tim figures she’s thinking about the night with the strippers. “You’re… the night.”

Jason snorts. Tim punches his knee again. “Lisa, I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of Batman, not me.”

Her expression twists in such fury both vigilantes prepare to restrain her, but instead of directing her anger at them, Lisa scoffs.

“Don’t  get me started on Batman! All that crap about being mysterious and working alone? Then he joins the freaking Justice League? Just… Batman, in the middle of a bunch of rainbow wearing clowns. And then… all those freaking kids. Why does he have so many kids?”

“Lady, we ask ourselves that everyday,” Tim admits.

Lisa is wearing the same expression Krystal had when Red Robin denied his relationship with Hood.

“I’m sorry, Lisa, I’m grateful that you admire me, but you can’t keep following me like this.”

Her eyes teary again, Lisa swallows dry. “Clearly, if you’re  sorry  about it.”

They can’t exactly take her to Arkham for taking pictures. Tim feels less bad about the whole thing when the woman stands and starts telling them in a  very loud voice  to get the hell out of her house.

“Fine,” Jason says, heading to the corkboard. “But I’m taking this.”

“Take it,” she shouts. “I don’t need it anymore. You’re  just like Batman!”

And that’s how Red Hood and Red Robin find themselves standing in the middle of a dusty hallway, Hood with a conspiracy board under his arm. 

Well, that happened. 

 In the end, Steph  was  furious about them going to the stalker’s house by themselves, but there was not a lot she could do except doodle on every picture of the stalker board. 

There must be something very wrong with their sense of humor, because their text group becomes a mess of jokes about the stalker Robin being stalked. At that Tim has no problem exercising Jason’s lessons in holding grudges and refuses to help them with any of their cases unless they stop it. The thing is that all of them find the whole thing hilarious.

All of them except Duke.

“Give it a while,” Tim tells him. “You’re the most recent acquisition to the family. In due time your idea of funny will be just as warped as ours.”

“Hm. When was the last time you slept, Timmy?” Duke asks.

“Tuesday.”

“Today is Tuesday.”

“Hahahaha yeah.”

“... Jaaaaasooon! Come over here! Tim is going into The Ring territory! Do something about it!”

Bruce doesn’t find it funny either. He isn’t happy that there’s a deranged meta he didn’t know about, but Tim thinks that was the least surprising part of the whole ordeal. He reckons a lot of metas doesn’t want to be a hero or a villain, they’re just regular people that live regular lives and happened to win in the metagene lottery. 

Or… well. In Lisa’s case, not so regular.

And that’s why upon hearing the story for the first time, Bruce  completely freaks out. He starts considering possibilities from scaring the woman as Batman - “That’s a terrible idea, dad, you heard she likes that shit,” says Dick over facetime - or having her arrested - “Father, having bad taste in men is hardly a crime. She has yet to do anything to harm Timothy” Damian helpfully reminds him - and finally to fill out a restraining order - “For who, Karen?” Jason snaps. “Red Robin? Or you want to walk into that nut job and tell her she’s not allowed near Tim Drake-Wayne?”

Long story short, it’s chaos. Tim has had enough of a crazy night, so he sits back near the training area of the cave and sips the tea Alfred made him. Bruce is doing Tim’s stressed out circuit, pacing back and forth around the cave while his children follow him - Damian is holding the phone higher than his head so Dick can talk to Bruce at eye level - and they try to talk him out of doing anything stupid.

Most of them, anyway. It looks like Duke is definitely looking into the possibility of a restraining order.

Cass detaches herself from the mess and heads towards Tim. She looks calm, as Cass always does, and some of that calm transfers to him. When she takes a seat by his side, he smiles at her.

“Okay?” she asks. 

Tim shrugs. “Weirded out, mostly. I’ll be fine.”

She points at her then signs Tim’s house as a question. She’s asking him if he wants her to come over.

While Cass is one hell of a bodyguard, Tim thinks of Steph, who’s most definitely playing with his video games back at home, and of Jason, whose schedule mostly matches Tim’s, hence he is, more often than not, at one shout of distance. Tim can’t think of any place that feels safer than his home right now.

“I’m fine. Jay and Steph are taking care of me. I’ll just have to be twice as careful during patrol,” he says.

Cass nods, satisfied. She gives him a forehead kiss and leans against his side. The two of them watch their family yell at each other for the next ten minutes, matching serene smiles on their faces.

 Bruce settles for keeping Lisa under occasional watch. 

Barbara stalks her online and finds that Lisa has left a Red Robin fanclub (Tim did not know those existed) and closed all of her threads on the Red Robin subreddit (Tim knew about those, but kept his distance), making it seem that learning that Red Robin is just a polite-ish kid really killed her love. 

Bruce says he’ll keep tabs on her because he know she’s a meta, it’s not like he’s being overprotective, he totally knows Tim can take care of himself, really. 

Other than that, Bruce is way too happy about Jason’s new living arrangement. He even  almost smiles. 

 Tim… is fine. The whole thing is creepy, for sure, but he finds out that his siblings making so many jokes about it makes it easier to handle. Yay for their unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

He doesn’t think he will ever be okay with media, though. It’s annoying enough that he has to deal with reporters as Tim Drake-Wayne, he definitely doesn’t need the attention as Red Robin. 

Luckily for him, his siblings help him with that too. One time he’s wrapping a gang bust with Nightwing when a reporter comes running towards them, begging for a few answers. Red Robin cringes inwardly realizing there are no close buildings to use his grapple, but before he can say anything, Nightwing squeezes his shoulder. 

“Go, Timmy. I’ve got this.”

Tim smile. “Thanks, Dick.”

And he leaves the silent and swift way only a Bat can do. 

 Things are great. As great as they can be in Gotham, at least. Tim wakes up at 9am - an early time for a vigilante, but he got at least 5 hours of sleep, so that’s something - and heads to the kitchen. He finds Steph (who still swears she doesn’t live with them) and Jason bickering over pancakes they’re making. Smiling to himself, Tim mumbles a good morning and starts washing the dirty dishes from last night.

The peaceful morning is interrupted by Steph’s phone buzzing. She use a paper towel to clean her hands before checking it and…

“Uh… Timbers?” she calls.

He freezes, the pan he’s washing suddenly forgotten. “What now?”

Steph is trembling with contained laughter when she hands him the phone. Duke just sent her a link to a news article. Tim clicks and finds himself staring at the headline RIVALRY BETWEEN HEROES? followed by a clear picture of Nightwing and a blurry shot of Red Robin.

The article follows:

After dealing with an infamous gang of contrabandists that operated near Gotham’s harbor, Nightwing and Red Robin went their separate ways without much courtesy. Despite the short collab, it appears that Red Robin didn’t appreciate Nighwing’s help, his farewell words being a sarcastic “thanks” followed by calling Bludhaven’s hero a “dick”.

Tim raises his eyes to the other two. Steph is hiding her face into the crook of Jason’s neck, her shoulders still trembling a bit. Having read the article over Steph’s shoulder, Jason is biting his lip.

Tim deadpans: “This is the funniest shit that ever happened to me.”

The three of them explode in laughter and they cackle for a good minute, until the three of them are breathless and their cheeks hurt.

“I-I want to print that and frame it,” Steph manages between giggles. “Let’s hang it on the living room.”

“Good… ahaha… Good work, Timbers,” Jason says, smiling wide. “For that, you can have extra pancakes.”

Tim is still grinning when he goes back to his dish duty. Maybe being under the media attention isn't so bad after all.

[iwritethat]

Dick Grayson: Meeting Your Heroes

A/n: Bit random but I thought it was a cute idea.

>>>>——————————>

Ever since you’d discovered he was Nightwing, your boyfriend was simply underwhelmed by your lack of enthusiasm or any reaction at all regarding his vigilantism. Like his family had discussed when he brought up the ‘issue’, this was the best case scenario - not only had you stayed with him, you didn’t make yourself apart of that side of his life, it was simply as if nothing had changed. Which, to every hero, was the ideal outcome for confessing their alias to their significant other.

Dick on the other hand decided he required a reaction, he’d made it a secret competition between you two. He wouldn’t hide anything, if you asked a question then he’d tell you about his night in full detail if only to get something from you. Or least a reason as to why you were so collected with all of this.

It started when he climbed through the window one particular night, crimson decorating the right shoulder of his costume as he captured the light of your living room.

“Babe you’re covered in blood!” Your tone held some concern, yourself standing to meet him by the kitchen counter with a glass of water in hand.

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine.” Dick replied rather cooley, acting rather proud that he’d miraculously returned home with only a few minor bruises.

“Oh great, so it’s some strangers blood you’re dripping all over my carpet.” Your sarcastic playful remark knocked him back down to Earth, the man completely miffed that you weren’t phased by the gore he’d brought home with him nor repulsed by it. In fact you had the audacity to joke about your carpet of all things.

He’d have to try harder.

.

“The Penguin escaped Arkham again tonight, not too much of an issue but that old crow still packs a punch.” Was the first thing you heard when your boyfriend returned from patrol, freshly showered and changed he collapsed on the sofa moving between your legs to wrap his arms around your waist and simply rest his head on your abdomen. Instinctively your fingers soothingly carded through his raven hair as he released a hum of contentment at your touch alone, your other hand still shifting through the channels.

“That idiot still using his damn umbrella, with that annoying spike at the end to stab at you like some sort of fencing duel?” You casually questioned, gaze still focused on the TV but Dick noticed the way you jabbed the remote like a sword to complement your words as a visual representation. He wasn’t even sure if you realised you did it.

“Yeah, it totally rained on my parade.” At your boyfriend’s terrible pun, you flicked your attention to him with a raised brow, Dick had taken note as he watched whatever programme you’d settled on but you responded with a pun of your own.

“Straight to the point I suppose.”

This caused him to chuckle a bit, maybe he didn’t need a reaction from you, you’re willingness to take his lifestyle in stride truly didn’t require this competition of his. Your openness about it made it easier for him to relax, to share moments like these with you.

.

And so he settled on keeping you informed on his vigilante side job just as much as he did on his usual one. Contest set aside.

“Harley Quinn and the Suicide Squad are back in action, keeps them in line somewhat I guess.” Grayson commented as you both walked into your apartment that evening after your date.

“Agreed, I always said she’d be better without the Joker. Glad she took my advice, and Ivy is a much better match.”

“Ivy? What?” He looked puzzled, watching as you placed your keys on the coffee table reaching for an envelope beside them.

“Yep, my girls are dating! Surprise my love, it’s good news though at least I think so.” You gleefully stated, handing over a letter sealed with a prominent scarlet lipstick mark.

“To my favourite (S/h/n), the best there ever was cuz Bats put me in Arkham.

Hope everything is okay with you sugar, I told ya I was doin alright now I’m back on my feet and out of that crazy place and Ivy has my back. Broke my phone on my last mission but I’ll drop by soon or call ya (Y/n), whichever comes first.

Love, Harley x”

.

It was eerily silent after your boyfriend read the letter, his brows knitting together as he looked between you and the parchment a couple of times with failed attempts at making conversation. Instead simple gasps emitting from his lips which you found endearing.

“(S/h/n)?! You’re them?!” His sudden excitement startled you, his sapphire irises lighting up more than you thought possible.

“I was, but I retired. Wanted to make a life for myself outside of the vigilante game y’know.” You shrugged it off unbothered, the contrasting response to a giddy Dick Grayson who gazed at you like a lovestruck teenager.

“No way! This is the best day of my life! I’m so glad I finally get to meet you - I have so many questions!” He places the letter down on the counter, pacing the kitchen with his hands in the air and a variety of gestures accompanying his cheerful tone.

“Uh... Dick...” Your voice and expression mirrored that of confusion, believing he would already know about your past.

“I don’t think you understand, I had the BIGGEST crush on you and it sucked that I only got to work with you like twice. No matter how many times I tried to get Bruce to track you down so we could recruit you to one of our Teams, he wouldn’t allow it and I couldn’t find you myself either. And yet here you are in my apartment!” His hands grasped your shoulders, words tumbling from his lips like he hadn’t processed them much to your amusement.

“You’re dating me... in our apartment...” Your voice displayed your humour, dazzling smirk gracing your lips as you emphasised the facts.

“...”

As if this information had just registered in Dicks brain, you tilted your head slightly as you spoke with a genuine smile.

“Earth to my boyfriend - hello?”

“Holy crap, I sleep with you.” It was a mutter of disbelief, any quieter and you wouldn’t have heard it but you smugly answered anyway.

“Yes. Yes you do.”

“This is - I don’t know what this is - a dream come true! (S/h/n) is my significant other, I’m the luckiest guy in the world, I mean I knew that already but now - I love you even more (Y/n) and I didn’t think that was possible.” The excitement practically radiated from his form and he wasn’t really sure how to process this development - going from crossing his arms to gesturing toward you and shaking his head with an unyielding grin.

“Oh my god, you’re fangirl-ing. I have a fangirl, this is unreal. I can’t look at you right now let alone anything else Dick.” You facepalmed, hiding your obvious devious smile behind your hand as you desperately tried not to laugh at his behaviour.

.

It was silent once more, you still being surprised by how much Nightwing admired you, although back then he’d have been Robin. The original boy wonder had a crush on you, how sweet.

“Do you still have your suit?” It was out of the blue, Dick more serious about this inquiry.

“Wha- no!” After playfully punching his shoulder you responded, the male feigning pain but matched your smile.

“Aw, we could’ve taken a picture together in our suits. Talk about goals.”

“What a tragedy.” Sarcasm, you simply couldn’t help it as you rolled your eyes.

“It all makes sense now, why you didn’t give a damn about me coming home a mess. You’d seen it all before, probably done it yourself. You know about major criminals and asked about their strategies and gave your own advice, heck you even have personal ties to Harley Quinn! Wait, did you get stabbed by Penguins umbrella? I feel like I should’ve noticed this sooner actually...” The last statement held a hint of sheepish embarrassment, Dick rethinking over the signs he’d glossed over during your relationship.

“Lightly prodded. And considering you were trained by the worlds greatest detective then maybe? But in your defence I made sure all evidence of my past was gone.” You happily reasoned, wrapping your arms around his waist as you stepped toward him.

“Exactly! You seem like a normal civilian except from the casual ‘oh cool’ when your boyfriend tells you he’s Nightwing.” He returned your comforting embrace, placing a kiss to your nose in the process.

“I knew that fudged you up!”

“It didn’t... I just wanted you to swoon a little, I mean have you seen me in that suit? But you didn’t even bat an eyelash...” Now you could tell he was joking with you, tone somewhat seductive as he smirked knowing you did find him attractive both in and out of his Nightwing suit.

“Oh? I’m sorry, but aren’t you supposed to act cool in front of your hero crush?” Was your cocky reply, pulling back from his embrace with sass in your tone.

“You have a - on me. As in me?” Dick placed a hand to his heart as he asked, sincere with a degree of surprise.

“Duh.”

“I have to call my brothers! Tell them that (S/h/n) has a crush on me!” Once more his voice filled with what can only be described as sheer joy, quickly kissing your lips before reaching for his phone whilst you crossed your arms with a sigh.

“On Nightwing, but sure go ahead fangirl.”

[popculturebuffet]

Comics Corner: Child’s Play #1 “Night of the Living Doll”

S

Happy days before Halloween everybody. While I have an X-tra Spooky treat planned for the day itself, I thought i’d start branching out from X-Men Comics (though that will be my primary focus), with a comic i’ve been dying to read since I found out it existed: The Child’s Play mini series from innovation comic, one of only two series and 10 comics overall starring your faviorite murder doll and mine: Charles “Chucky” Lee Ray. Also contains a slasher off to see who would win between Chucky and some classsic killers because the comic put the idea in my brain. Wanna Play? Then join me after the cut. 

WARNING: This review contains scenes of Gore. While I did try to cut it down being a horror comic about a slasher villain, this was inevitable, Discretion is advised. 

Child’s Play is a horror franchise I absoltuley love. While i’ve procastinated on seeing the DTV sequels, not that I think their bad i’m just a forgetful mess sometimes, and Seed, because no amount of Jennifer Tilly or intresting gender identity issue stuff will compensate for me having to watch Chucky masturbate, I have followed the series for years, afraid to watch it because I wasn’t a huge horror fan at the time and Chucky scared the shit out of me as a kid. Eventually I realized that despite my fear I loved the franchise for it’s thoroughly interesting killer, entertaining kills, and at it’s best great stories and at it’s worst so bad it’s good royalty. Even the Don Manncini, creator of the series and writer of every film and director of three, disowned remake is pretty good if thoroughly it’s own thing.  So naturally a Mini-Series taking place between 2 and 3 that may fit neatly into continuity, this is my shit and i’m so happy to finally read it. 

For the lapsed and unintiated, the Chucky/Child’s Play series, the original anyway the remake is it’s own thing and has it’s own backstory, follows Charles Lee Ray, aka Chucky, a serial killer who in desperation to get away from the cop perusing him after his partner ratted him out, used his vodoo knowledge, because every serial killer knows voodoo apparently, to put himself in the nearest vessel, a doll. The rest of the backstory can be covered as we go as the first issue does a really good job of organically explaning it for the unaware. Granted I don’t know if most non child’s play watchers would be intrested in this comic but it’s a nice gesture. 

This mini comes to us from innovation entertainment, a 90′s publishing company that made tie in comics for a number of things, and from writer Andy Mangels who also wrote Innovation’s Nightmare on Elm Street comics, which Linkara has covered in detail if your curious and which i’ll probably cover myself at some point, especially since this issue made a strong impression on me.  Speaking of which, the mini as mentioned takes place between the second and third films, both of which have their own adaptations that i’ll cover eventually, but I felt the original story was more appealing. As far as I can tell there have only been really three bits of media outside the franchise, not counting the aborted video game: A , from all accounts, terrible endless runner game, this mini series, and another mini series from Hack/Slash creator and former Nightwing Maestro Tim Seely, as well as a crossover between Hack/Slash and Chucky from Seely. And having read said crossover and found it excellent and feeling just like the movies in regards to the little shit, I hope to find the mini one day and share it with you lovely people. But even if I had i’d probably be covering this one first since chronological order combined with the fact it seems that mini dosen’t fit into canon anymore and this one might. Now the exposition is out of the way let’s get to the good stuff. 

Since I didn’t really cover the covers in my first two X-Men reviews, and feel I really should going issue by issue it just hadn’t occured to me, let’s look at the cover. It’s decent, kinda a parody of old horror comics covers or old horror movie covers and a nice start to things.. although frankly I would’ve preffered the splash page instead. 

I love it. It’s a nice little gag, and while the blood splatter is partly nonsensical and looks like Chucky just killed a guy to splatter some extra blood about to make his collection look more badass.. though given who we’re dealing with it wouldn’t suprise me, so it dosen’t really detract. That being said being a burgeoning horror fan and having seen films from most of these franchises and knowing enough about those I don’t from other reviewers reviews, i’d be remiss if I didn’t speculate about if Chucky could win against these other titans of terror. PLACE YOUR BETS BITCHES, IT’S A SLASHER OFF. 

Chucky Versus Micheal Meyers: He’d stab him for the love guru. Easy joke aside the horror of haddonefield does have size and strength, even in his old man version from the recent movie and upcoming sequels, over Chucky and while I thought this would be easily him... Chucky has him in speed and agility. He could climb that fucker and stab him up and down, shadow of colossus style, until even Micheal would have to buckle over, or just as likely set an elaborate trap like 2k18 Laurie. Micheal has some intellegence and a Chuck’s own drive not to give up, but that won’t save him from an opponent who’s faster, smarter and just as piss angry stubborn. Chucky wins.  Chucky Versus the Creature from the Black Lagoon: Chucky. The creature is strong but chucky’s craftier and would poison a lake just to kill a bastard.  Chucky Versus Jason: Tough call. Like Micheal, Jason is slow.. but he’s also 20 times more durrable, stronger and way more likely to get Chucky off him. He’s also more likely to use the environment meaning even if I vastly prefer Chucky, it’s a more even fight and more likely to go in Jason’s favor, as any trap Chucky set would likely get walked off. Jason wins.  Chucky Vs The Phantom of the Opera: Not really a traditional slasher and I don’t really know the version that is or the version that isn’t to be frank, but it seems like Erik could take chucky in cleverness and ruthlessness and combined with having home field advantage, i’m calling advantage Erik. He wins.  Chucky Vs Dracula: Okay 1, make this a movie yesterday Mancini and 2, this is a tough one. On the one hand Drac has mist, a horde of brides, wolves and transformation. If it’s home court, Chucky’s gonna die, especially if the count simply uses his brides to seduce him as Chucky is kinda easy that way. But in the US? Chucky is an onry bastard and Dracula has a ton of weakness, so I could see Chucky loosing round one then coming back to kill the bastard at dawn and anyone dumb enough to defend his coffin. Plus Chucky isn’t alone having Tiffany and the ablity to split himself among good guy dolls, so I could see Chucky creating another army of himself to do a suicide run on Drac’s castle. It’d hurt but Chucky is a vengeful dick. Chucky wins. Seriously Mancni get on this.  Chucky Vs Freddy: Depends on the setting: In the Dream World, it’s likely Freddy as he can throw Chuck off guard by giving him his body back or using former survivors, while in the real world it’s Chucky’s turf but Freddy still has knife hands with more reach than his lumbering opponents, so even with prep I expect Chucky to eat that one, so I give it to Freddy. But honestly I prefer Don Mancini’s ACTUAL pitch for a crossover he’s trying to get happening: Chucky and Freddy meet up, and actually admire each other’s style but realize that two killers in town will dry up all the victims so they wage a dirty rotten scoundrel’s style looser leaves town contest: whoever chops up the most teens by dawn stays. I want that yesterday too.  Chucky Vs Xenomorph: If it’s a facehugger as shown, Chucky, it probably woudln’t be able to bond with him and he’d stab it. But a proper showdown.. xenomorph. It matches Chucky’s speed, ferocity and while not as intelligent is still far stronger and just as ruthless.  Chucky Vs Leatherface: Chucky. While Leatherface has the better weapon and matching speed, Chucky can outthink him. Chucky wins but while I haven’t seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre, against the whole clan Chucky probably woudln’t win.. but would probably throw in with them long enough to survive since he’s a murderous bastard too and as long as he dosen’t have to join in dinner, it’s essentially his MO with help and family. He’d probably grow to either love them or get annoyed enough to kill em all.  Chucky Vs  The Tall Man: Tall Man. The Phantasm Ball is just too powerful and Chucky too vunerable and stubborn for a teamup.  Chucky vs Pinhead: Pinhead. I may be too squeamish for hellraiser but he’s FAR above Chucky’s paygrade.  So overall it’s 4 to 6 with Chucky loosing, but he still put up a far better fight than you’d think. And for funsies before we move on to the actual meat of the comic at long fucking last.  Chucky Vs Ash: Ash. Ash is dumb sometimes sure, but he’s just as stubborn, has dealt with being accused of murder before so framing him won’t work, and unlike the Slashers he’s got a shot gun, which while chucky can dodge, I could see Ash pining him. Dumb dosen’t mean he isn’t clever. However I do want to see the hyjinks that would insue so please, Mancini, do this one if you either can’t get freddy or if you can after that. Please? Okay so with ALLLL of that out of the way, let’s dive in. 

We open on the above, what’s left of Chucky after Child’s Play 2, being reforged into a fresh body. It’s exactly as pleasant as you’d think. 

Maybe he just says that because the sight of him with lipstick gives grown men heart attacks. 

See? Unsuprisingly, that’s one of my faviorite Child’s Play moments. Or maybe he just needs a pair of fresh eyes to stop being so hetronormative. 

I do love this bit, it’s a nice bit of comedy that dosen’t feel too broad and fits right into the franchise, even before the outright horror comedies. And now for you ladies and gentleman and other’s pleasure...LIVE NUDE CHUCKY!

Granted Bride would later retcon in a penis, but given he’s in a third body by then. Or maybe it’s the fact his body gets more human the longer he’s in one, so maybe he grows one or fused a strapon to himself. I dunno. I’m not an expert in Chucky’s Penis. That’s Don Mancini’s job. So Chucky puts some pants on, because wether it’s because you love somebody or want to stab them silly, you put your pants on for them, and wonders if he should wear something more inconspicuous before realizing he’s a 3 foot animate doll.. he’s always going to be conspicuous, another inspired bit of comedy. This is something I like about the issue: Regognizing how ludicrious the two sequels at the time were, Mangels leans into the comedy a little, but without overriding the horror, as you’ll soon see, somehow correctly predicting the direction of the franchise. But chucky made a mistake.. the last page showed him triggering an alarm by accident and well. 

As you can see in a neat stylistic choice, the siren blares over the entire page as Chucky makes a run for it and a mysterious observer sees a slight against god running about, decides cool and follows. He accidently slams into chucky in another funny bit. He offers a ride and while Chucky balks at this weirdo, said weirdo points out that how’s he’s going to outrun the cops otherwise and Chucky reluctantly gets in. And it says something if the guy with a bigger body count than a heart attack still has reservations going with you. The teen says Chucky reminds him of a kid who was in the papers for claming a doll killed some people and his mother who backed up the story, was suspected to have did it and put her in an insane asylum, or as this little shit calls it “Electro-Shock Pallace” as someone who himself is mentally ill, and afraid of asylums and lives in a world two decades removed where mass killings happen often and are often pinned on mental illness, fuck this twerp and I can’t wait for his commupance. Chucky sets him straight. 

See this is why I didn’t jsut do a big infodump on everything right up front, the comic does a good cjob recapping child’s play 1, and 2 isn’t relevant to the plot aside from the intro. They explain things quick and fast and chucky himself gives a good chunk of the film’s backstory pretty quickly once he and shades here get back to his house. 

This is also interesting as even the films haven’t really gone into how Charles Lee Ray felt as he became a doll or if he was conscious when Karen first got him. There’s more of course, and while it’s not necessary to this story, Karen does show up in this series, so i’ll fill you in on where the story went from there, as well as what Chucky left out or wasn’t there for. Here we go... Karen Barclay was the struggling mother of young Andy, who wanted a Good Guy doll for his birthday. Karen, not having much, found one second hand... Chucky. Chucky started manipulating the young kid, offscreen though that just makes it more unsettling even if the mystery of if Chucky’s real or not is kinda pointless when we saw a guy explode himself into a doll. I also like the nod that Chucky knows about as much as the fans do as to why their was a mega explosion. He first kills Karen’s best friend and Andy’s babysitter for the night, which Andy blames Chucky. No one belivies him.. which is understandable.. what’s not is when Chucky kills next, having andy take him to his acomplice’s house and blowing it up, NO ONE seems to question why a little child blew up a known criminal, how he knew where the house was, or why, when the previous crime was done in the home with motive, he killed some random guy. I do love this film but this bit feels especially dumb on the cops part not even bending a LITTLE. But this isn’t a review of the first movie so let’s move on.  Andy is comitted, which as sad as it is to see an innocent child thrown in an institution does make at least some sense so they can find out if he’s really seeing things or not, and Karen returns.. and finds that the Good Guy dolls don’t come with batteries, yet Chucky has been talking like any other toy. As a result we get one of the best scenes in the franchise history if not it’s best, and really, as much as I try I can’t do it justice. Though if you can’t watch in short he does an exorcist when she checks the batteries, she threatens to burn him, and he reveals himself. In long... it’s worth a watch. 

Chucky runs for it, Karen tries to tell Mike who dosen’t belivie her.. until Chucky comes for him. Chucky then heads for Dr.Death, his vodoo 101 teacher, who refuses to help him viewing him an abomination but stupidly left a vodoo fetish of himself around and you can guess the rest. He reveals Chucky can only transfer to the first person he revealed himself too so he heads for Andy with .. this. 

Mancini had to know what he was doing right? Right? Anyway. Karen and Mike find a dying Death who tells them to aim for the heart and who his target is. Andy dodges Chucky and escapes the Aslyum heading home where we get a final confrontation between the Barclay’s, Mike and Chucky, which is damn good and ends with Andy burning the fucker with a badass response to his claim of being his friend to the end “This is the end friend”. This dosen’t quite finish him but a shot to the heart, with Mike to blame, kills the bastard.. for now. Now we’re all caught up, let’s get back to the story. 

Dipshit has called his friends to see Chucky and as seen above, Chucky is wondering why he shoudln’t kill the guy.. but Dumbass has a good point for once: his one friend is studying magic, presumibly at Durmstrang since Hogwarts dosen’t tolerate that kinda shit, and could help summon dr. death to see if they can fix his situation. Granted Death viewed him as an abomination and wanted nothing to do with Chucky, but he might let something slip or have no choice and it’s better than the nothing Chucky has to go on. Chucky gives exposition to Fuckwit’s friends and claims he killed Dr.Death in self defense, which isn’t entirely innacurate and Steaming Bowl of Elephant Piss suggests holding a seance. But one of his friends, Burt, who seems to be the only one to see Chucky for the red flag he is, calls an audible and Chucky grumbles off while they talk in private. 

As you can see, Fuckbucket sets the intellgence standard for his group. However their not SO obnoxious that it distracts from how horrible what’s about to happen will them will be. Except shitty shitty bang bang. Since It’s hard to remember all of the dead meets names i’ll be calling the girl Molly Ringwald, Burt by his name since he’s being sensiable, the moron drinking his own blood Edgelord, and Numbnuts MCGee my current barrage of creative insults. But yeah none of them take Chucky as a threat seriously, which is a nice little meta commentary on how most people think they could take Chucky, even though the guy is nigh unkillable, smart and fast and stronger, if not heavier, than him being a doll would make you think. Burt is the ONLY one here who seems to think harboring a serial killing doll is a terrible idea and thus the only one I respect. And “Most LIkely To Run Into A Wall” has the genius observation seen above where he asks “we’re helping him why would he hurt us”... when he’s already threatned to kill him and has no use for any of them once he has any info they can scrape up, with Burt pointing out even if their sucessful they’ll be responsible for more killing. Sadly he’s outvoted. Seriously while I do like Mangels, I question his opinon on teenagers and horror fans, especially given his long screed about the horrors of the world at the front of the issue and how his comics horrors don’t compare to racisim or homphobia, though the latter is a nice touch considering this was the early 90′s and some horror audiences could be homphobic morons, when the horror fans he portray are a darwin award of the decade winner, a moron who cuts himself not because he has serious issues with depression but to drink his own blood, a witch who goes along with their stupidity, and ... one likeable guy who’s coded as a wuss but is the only sane one here. 

So morons r us, plus burt and chucky, call Dr.Death’s spirit forth in a very moody and atmospheric scene. Naturally it goes GREAT. 

Dr.Death’s form dissolves terrifyingly and awesomely and our morons, and Burt,  are left, literally since they turned the light’s down in the dark> Burt is freaking out and has shards of crap in him thanks to all this.. couldn’t of killed fuckaround could you John? Burt is lead to the bathroom, while Fuckwit and Edgelord head downstairs, Fuckwit heading further down to check the breakers since the power is out for the whole house while Edgelord actually says something smart and wonders what they ALL shoudlv’e been thinking about: Where’s chucky? He has a response in this AWESOME looking panel. 

And here’s where the it dosen’t undercut the tragedy bit comes into play. Sure these kids are kinda dumb.. but most teens are, and they might not belivie he actually killed peope or even if they did, think they can take him as foolishly stated. They had their whole lives to become better people, and Mollly Ringwald and Burt seemed like decent enough people while Edgelord was probably going though a phase. Dum Dum Dumbassigan dosen’t really get a huge repreive but the point is NONE of them deserve to die and they aren’t dialed up to obnoxious, except assface, to be that unsympathetic. Their being stupid sure, but again MOST TEENS ARE or will at least be easily talked into doing something that all common sense says should kill them. And sadly in David, aka edgelord’s case...

Yeah it took a while but I had that gore warning for a reason. And he then decides to fill David with knives. I also stopped calling him edgelord because well. .look at it. The death is horrifying, well drawn and only made worse when Chucky decides to play “pin cushion” and fill him with knives off screen. His next target is sadly my man burt. He does complain A LOT and while a little whiny, given he’s covered in cuts, about to die and was the ONLY ONE here to excercise caution.. yeah he has a right to be. And then.. this happens to Burt in the bathroom...

Yup, THAT just happened. But I like it a lot.. it’s done with style, humor.. but not without horror either. A nicely done little parody. Molly, or wendy as the comic calls her, wonders around the Darkness for a bit.. and then finds David’s corpse.. which I own’t show as holy shit it’s as graphic as it is horrifying. And given what I showed you of his death earlier, that’s saying something.She tells an approaching Moron to stay back.. and well..

In order....... I am so angry at that first panel “I don’t know what happened here....” I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE. 

BITCHCAKES, YOU LET A SERIAL KILLER INTO YOUR HOUSE WHO VANISHED ON YOU AFTER A SPOOKY GHOST TOLD YOU TO KILL HIM OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES. WHAT IN THE STAR SPANGLED, CHERRY COATED MARSHMELLOW FUCK DID YOU THINK HAPPENED.  Second, while I get her logic, Fartnugget isn’t capable of working out basic sequence of events let alone killing a person.  And finally.. there is no amount of gifs that can convey how happy I am at that last panel. 

Wendy goes mad from the shock and Chucky, whos’ been lurking under the table this whole time with a Freddy Glove, strikes. 

It’s no “welcome to prime time BITCH”, but I think Freddy would dig it. Naturally, the glove dosen’t kill her but she snaps her neck.. and then chucky , of all things, calls the police. 

I’ll not explode with rage again btu the david’s dead line tempted me, as HE JUST KILLED YOUR FRIEND OF COURSE HE DID. As for his threat... Chucky is unimpressed. See this was his plan. At least once they stopped being useful. Gee who could’ve predicted that? Chucky has decided to frame ponytailed idiot for it, a real brilliant way of going about things, and to me WHY Chucky is such a threat. Even if you beat him, if you don’t have proof.. he still gets you locked up and then comes back stronger than ever. This ending also actually helps with a plot hole some might have with the series. 

Chucky dosen’t leave fingerprints. He MIGHT as he turns more human, bud odds are he dosen’t, thus it’s easy enough to frame whoever’s left.. though it was neat to see him do so intentionally. Truck Nuts breaks down, Chucky flees and we end on a teaser for the next issue as some mysterious Doctor has come to Karen Barclay with promises to help go after Chucky. But that’s for another day. For now our story is done. There’s also a page for a “Stuck On Chuck” contest, with the winners getting to be in issue 5. Just bringing that up so if I ever get there, I won’t have missed it. And with that we finally close out. 

Final Thoughts: 

This issue is excellent. I was expecting something slightly cheesy and not great, and while there are narmy elements: the commentary on horror being a media scapegoat seems out of place and as I made abdundantly clear on second read the lead is insufferable. His fate is still tragic, but he’s such a moron I can’t help but feel he brought it on himself, but his friends aren’t so obnoxious that you don’t feel bad when they do die, a mistake full on horror movies make too often. The kills are gory, as shown there’s some nice visual flair here and there, and chucky is drawn amazingly, especially for the time. There’s an awkward shot here or there but for the most part the artist really captures him well. This comic is a hidden Gem and if your a fan of the films or even just the first one, I strongly recommend it, or if nothing else as I haven’t gotten to the rest, this issue.  If you liked this review, feel free to like or reblog, and if you want one like it for the issue or graphic novel of your choice, just pm and slip 5 bucks into my paypal and i’ll get right on it as soon as the first week of november. Until then, i’m your friend to the end. 

[letgraysonsheart]

The Cats Cradle

Selina just wanted to steal a pretty diamond, instead she finds a dying bird.

A/N: This fic has an alternate ending posted separately (spoiler alert! it’s the more happy one),you can read it on tumblr hereI also have to say a massive thank you to @liathgray who listened to all my rambling about the fic and helped me with editing, grammar and the title! also thanks to @schweeeppess for advice on how to post this mess.  

She is careful as she makes her way through the empty street. There has been yet another Arkham Breakout. Most people have already vacated the grim and dirty main road of Gotham. Smart people. Selina didn’t catch all about what had happened. The blonde news-lady with the pretty lipstick had said something about the Riddler with a dash of Scarecrow. Fun.

For her, it had been the perfect timing.

The Gotham Historical Museum had managed to get their hands on a very special, and very big, diamond. She has had her eyes on it since they first announced on TV that they would be showcasing it in the main hall. The owner had been bragging about it on Gotham Today of all things. How someone had willingly loaned it to a museum in Gotham, she could not comprehend. Rich people and their carelessness, she could only shake her head over it. Then use it for her own gain, of course.

The guards of the museum might be on high alert because of the breakout, but she isn’t worried about them. Their training is.. not that great. They’re only middle-class men only trying to make a living, and she is a master of her craft. It seems the museum never learns to hire better guards even after all the break-ins. Maybe that is the very reason they can’t afford too.

It’s an especially gloomy night in Gotham. The fog laid over the city is like a thick blanket, and there’s no clear sky in sight.

It is almost a dream come true, a perfect heist. Her only worry is Batman, who has a knack of turning up out of nowhere when she least wants him too. The fog is a favorite weather of his to practice his over-dramatic entrances. She has put all her trust in the breakout to slow him down enough so that he will arrive only for her to have already snagged her prize.

Through the fog, she can just barely see the majestic wooden doors of the museum. It is quite a wonder that the museum keeps rebuilding. Especially in that same expensive and historical style. She has lost count of every time it has gotten ruined in some attack or intrusion. There’s been quite a few. Another reason they can not afford better guards, even after gracious donations from Wayne Enterprises.

It seems like the battle has already been in this particular street. There is a crashed and abandoned car, and parts of the pavement are broken or missing. There is, thankfully, no pools of blood, it would be a shame for her boots to get dirty. She isn’t wearing those that work well with anything wet, like water, or blood.

There is nothing to be heard either, besides distant rumbling. It is in no doubt some rogue ruining some building, and Batman trying to stop them, which means she is alone for now.

She wonders what Bruce will say once he sees the news of the stolen diamond. Hopefully, it will be after he has put the escaped villain back into their cell. When everything has quieted down. Her little jewel theft will not be covered in the news as much as the Arkham Breakout, yet she has no doubt the bat will get ahold of it anyway. He has a way of knowing about all crime that happens in Gotham. She is still trying to figure out exactly how he does it.

Bruce will know it was her, but he won’t come after her. They have an understanding of some sort. She has, after all, been in his kitchen sipping tea with Alfred Pennyworth. Whatever it is they have, must have been going on for years by now. Since Batman had his first Robin, running around in small green shorts and pixie boots. He would not break their weird relationship now unless she did something unforgivable. Something which she is not planning to do, she would rather avoid the wrath of the bat.

There is not a person in sight, but Gotham is covered in fog tonight, so that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone hiding somewhere. Her goggles do help a little though as she slips them on and secures the strap. The tech in them makes things a tiny bit clearer.

She goes to cross the street and head towards the back of the museum. It is so pathetic-level guarded that she’s considered sending the poor museum some notes for consideration on how easy it is to break into.

A horrible sound interrupted her trek, freezing her in place. A pained gasp, a sound she wishes she didn’t recognize. A sound she wishes she hadn’t heard so many times before, enough times to know what it is. It sounds like a dying animal. It’s a dying human.

Her eyes linger on the vent she was planning to use as an entrance into the museum. She thinks about all the money the diamond will give her. Funds that will go to help that family she has hoped to help out for a while now.

Another pained sound, more like a sob, comes from the alleyway on her right. She walks up to it and tries to peer in, but she can’t see anything through the dark and the fog. Even if she squints, the only thing she can make out is some lumpy form on the ground a couple of meters away. It might be a body, but she isn’t sure.

She sighs and gives the museum one last longing look as she starts walking into the alleyway. Maybe it will be some criminal that she can make a fast process with. Perhaps a civilian she can call an ambulance for and then disappear again. That is if the hospital even has any ambulances that aren’t already in use considering there is a breakout.

After all her time on the street, she’s sure to have her back against the stonewall of the apartment building at all times. She doesn’t feel like being bothered by some low-life ambushing her from behind right now.

Her foot hits something, and she steps over a bag of trash. The lump she had seen before. It’s rather concerning that her mind had initially jumped to the conclusion of it being a body instead of abandoned garbage.

Whatever had made the sound is further into the alleyway. She knows because the person is obviously trying to be quiet, and failing. They must have heard or seen her coming, could have been when she had rustled the trash by accident. Their breathing has picked up and they’re shuffling around.

What first falls upon her eyes as she walks into the dead-end of the alley is the unconscious body of some goon. The man is still breathing, but bleeding from a head wound and not giving any sign of waking up any time soon. It looks like the wound is superficial, so whoever hurt him had no intent to kill. They had only wanted to incapacitate him. Yet she does not envy the killer headache he in no doubt will be sporting once he wakes up. For good measure, she slips out a pair of spare handcuffs from her bag and secures them on him.

She lets her eyes travel to the corner, where the apartment-building meets the brick wall ending the alley. There is someone there, sitting, no, leaning, against the wall. A black arm with blue finger-stripes laid protective over their stomach.

It’s one of the bat-brats. None other than Nightwing, the first one of Batman’s proteges.

He is making some awful gurgling sound. When she moves closer she can see that there is blood dripping from his mouth and chin down onto his chest. It’s slicked onto the arm he is holding over his abdomen too. He’s practically sitting in a puddle of it.

She could leave him, considers it for a second - he isn’t her responsibility. The bat himself, or any of his annoying sidekicks, are most likely already on their way. She could leave, and finish her job in time to pop by some fast food shack for a late dinner.

As she steps closer, just to look, she tells herself, she steps on something. It crunches under her foot. She curses herself and her own lack of awareness. She is supposed to know better. The sight of the usually smiling Nightwing so beaten and broken has rattled her more than it should.

When she crouches down, she sees that what she’s stepped on is some kind of electronic device. With closer inspection, she can see it’s a com-unit. She has seen Bruce use it to call off his kids often enough, those times when they have met on rooftops without really planning too. She has even seen him throw his own off in a haste the few times they have made it to his bed. This one, in contrast to Batman’s black one, carries a blue earpiece. It was probably already broken before she stepped on it. There is certainly no saving it now.

Crap. There goes her diamond heist. She can’t leave the kid here not knowing if he has called for back-up or not. If there is one thing she can not be responsible for, it’s Nightwing dying. That is one of those things the bat would never forgive.

A painful sounding cough brings her attention from the com-unit back to the former Boy Wonder. He is trying to cover his mouth with the hand not cradled over his stomach, but blood is still bubbling through his fingers. Internal bleeding. He’s in the eleventh hour. She has no idea how long he’s been there, judging by the amount of blood he’s lost - too long.

He is slumping over, about to fall down onto the unforgiving ground. Without thinking, acting on instinct, she is moving, running. She catches his shoulder before it hits the pavement, and lowers him down.

At first, he’s resisting, he may be fearing that she is someone who’s come to hurt him. A bat in peril, no matter which one, is something many criminals dreams of stumbling upon. His attempts to escape from her grip is shaky and feeble. He wouldn’t have stood a chance against the weakest of low-life criminals.

“It’s just me,” she hears herself saying as she pushes her goggles off to rest on the top of her head. She hopes the younger man will calm down once he can see her face.

Half of Nightwings domino mask is missing, and a blue eye blinks open to look at her. He furrows his brows in confusion.

“Selina?” he stutters, and she uses her sleeve to dry some blood off of his chin. Her boots are already a lost cause. They got seeped with blood the moment she stepped in to save the boy - which he still is, just a boy - from crumpling to the ground.

“D-did Bruce-” his words are interrupted by yet another harsh cough. He spits more blood, it lands both on himself and the pavement.

“Did Bruce send you?” he asks again, once his breath has calmed down enough from the coughing fit. There’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes. She knows it is a hope that Batman knows what has happened. A hope that his dad is coming. Perhaps a newfound hope that he will survive this.

She smiles sadly at him and shakes her head. If Dick is as bad off as he looks, the skin not covered by blood stark white, and Bruce knew, he would have already been there.

“I was in the neighborhood, tending to other business,” she settles on replying. If the situation was any different, if Richard wasn’t half-conscious and bleeding out, he would be prodding her about said “business.” The boy has always been too curious for his own good.

When he was younger and still Robin, he had been a teen filled with crude remarks. He would always question her. She had thought his look on the criminal world naïve, he saw it like everything was black and white. Why the bat never had corrected it, she hadn’t understood.

Back then, Dick had not understood the relationship between his mentor and herself. Most likely because she was a known criminal. It could be he still didn’t understand now, but how he looked at her had still changed. There was no venom in his eyes anymore whenever they would stumble upon each other. That’s including that time they’ve never spoken about when Selina had come stumbling out of Bruce’s room at around 4 am. At the same time, a drunk and underage Dick had stumbled up the stairs to his room. They had looked at each other, nodded, and then gone their separate ways.

Besides, that was before the Bat had all the other little bratlings. Before Dick had stepped up as his own hero and as a big brother to the newer bats. It was before a lot of pain had come to the bats’ makeshift family. Before Richard’s eyes had been forced open to reality despite Bruce’s attempts to shield him from it.

Now, Dick’s eyes are slipping shut. His blinking is slowing as if it takes too much energy to keep his eyes open.

“No falling asleep,” she says as she shakes him by the shoulder. She feels bad when he winces, but his one visible eye opens once again, looking a bit clearer than before. She knows she needs to keep him talking, at least until the bat shows up. If he does.

She doesn’t wanna think about what will happen if Batman shows up too late and finds her leaning over his dead son. She can’t think about him not showing up at all. She doesn’t want to live in a world where Nightwing is dead, again, either. Both for the world’s sake and for Bruce’s.

“Can you list your injuries?” she asks instead of voicing her fears and to grab Dick’s attention again.

“Hmmm..” Dick starts, and it looks like he is struggling to find words.

“Concussion,” he says, after half a minute, and Selina can’t help but snort. It earns her a small bloody grin from the teen, and she counts it as a win.

“I messed up my leg, it hurt like a bitch at first, the pain has dulled now though,” he continues. It’s the longest sentence he has said since she found him. She looks at his legs and oh - yeah. She had missed it in the worry of oh god he is coughing up blood but his right leg does not look good at all. It’s wrangled in a way she didn’t think a foot could ever be. It will be a long time before Nightwing is up and walking again, if ever. She doesn’t tell him that.

“Anything more?” she asks switching topic, knowing he has missed something quite vital.

“There is also a bit of a stab-wound in my abdomen. Maybe some internal bleeding,” he says, pretending it’s no biggie. The waver in his voice tells Selina otherwise. The boy is worried too. “That doesn’t hurt too much either anymore” he continues. Now he doesn’t even bother to hide the shakiness in his words.

“I guess that’s not a good thing,” he looks up at her as he says it and she is surprised by how coherent he looks. Their eyes meet. God, there are visible tears in the eye not covered by the domino. Selina is not prepared to deal with that.

She opts not to say anything, again, she doesn’t know which words to use. So instead she tries to pry his arm away from the stab-wound. She needs to take a look at it, and then apply more pressure. Dick’s arm is weak, and there is barely any resistance as she lifts it up off the wound.

It ‘s.. not pretty. Far from. It looks deep, no surprise considering how the kid has been coughing up blood. Luckily there doesn’t seem to be anything left of whatever inflicted the wounds still in there. It hasn’t stopped bleeding, though it’s not going as heavy as it looks to have been earlier. She has no idea if that is good or bad. Good right? The blood is staying inside? Or does it mean there is too little blood left? The uniform around the wound is torn. Unnatural pale skin is shining up at her from where the blood has yet to get to. Usually, Dick is one of the tannest in his family with his darker skin and all.

She drags her leather jacket off her shoulder and puts it over the stab-wound. She’s going to miss it, it was a personal favorite. She’ll make the boy wonder buy her a new one if he survives this. When. When he survives this. Dick gasps at the sudden pressure, both arms clawing at her to stop her, but they are still too weak. Selina thinks to herself that it’s good the boy still feels the pain because then there is still hope.

“Can you manage to hold it there, while I take a look at your leg?” she asks and doesn’t wait for an answer before putting both of Richard’s hands over the jacket again.

“Apply pressure,” she commands when his hands just fall limp over it. She sees the muscle tighten in Dick’s arms, and she figures that is as good as she is going to get.

She takes one look at the leg and knows she can’t do anything with it. It’s twisted in an off-putting way. If she were to rip off the tight costume covering Dick’s leg, which by some miracle is still intact, she knows she would be looking at bone. The suit is probably the only thing keeping the bleeding in. It should be set straight and held secure, but she can’t do any of that here. Not alone. Especially not when Dick is barely awake and coherent as it is. The risk of sending him into shock, or him bleeding out even faster, is too big.

The risk of Dick getting any lasting nerve damage is one she is willing to take, as long as he survives. She hopes the boy will agree, as daring flips off of rooftops and acrobatic moves fills her thoughts, and moves away from the leg.

“It is bad, isn’t it?” Dick asks when she settles beside his upper-body again. She puts her hand back on the jacket covering the wound and leans over to apply more pressure. He grits his teeth when she puts her weight on it. She only nods, not one for sugar-coating anything.

Silence, or as much silence as Dick is capable of with his rattling breath and badly concealed whines, falls over them. She is thinking of something to say, to keep Dick’s attention on her. Dick is shaking. The temperature has been falling steadily for the whole night, and it doesn’t seem to be stopping. Even her, with her suit fully intact, is starting to feel the chill. Could it be that some ice villain had broken out of Arkham too? It wouldn’t surprise her.

“Do you have a way to contact Batman? Or anyone else?” she asks. She refuses to believe that the com is the only way of contact Bruce has given his little sidekicks. Maybe she should have asked about it when she first arrived at the scene, maybe Bruce would already be here then. It is too late to think about that now.

“Emergency beacon,” Dick rasps. “In my belt, it should have gone off automatically when my vitals dropped. My hands..” he once again has to stop to cough and his concentration is slipping. “My hands… too much blood, too slippery,” his sentences aren’t really sentences anymore. They are more like mumbled words, each one sounding more painful to say then the next. It’s so wrong. Dick is usually always talking, he’s known as the chatty one of his family. He always seems to be teasing his siblings or taunting whichever villain he is facing. Dick is one of the few people she has ever seen without a glimmer of fear tease Batman.

She looks at his utility belt, there is blood where Dick most likely had tried to find the emergency button. If it had gone off or he managed to push it, someone must be on their way. Then there’s someone who knows that Dick needs medical attention, stat. Someone who will relieve her of this awful duty she has stumbled upon.

There is a faint blue light coming from under a shield in the belt. She sees it when she tips her head slightly sideways, parallel to Dick’s upper body. The light is only visible when looking downwards towards the feet of the wearer.

“Is it the one glowing? A blue color?” she asks. Dick says something, she can’t decipher it.

“If it’s..” he starts, “it’s blue?” he asks instead. His brows are once again furrowed.

She nods, “yes.”

“Shit,” he whispers. He leans his head back, and he looks up at the sky which still is nothing but fog.

“It’s.. not..,” he mumbles, his eye is closed and the single lens of his domino that’s left has become a thin slit.

She taps his face, rather hard. His eye blinks open again, although they look too hazy.

“Huh?” he asks.

“The emergency beacon, it’s blue. Does that mean it hasn’t gone off?” she asks, dread filling her stomach. Dick doesn’t have much time.

“Emergency?” is Dick’s answer, he looks confused, resembling more the young boy she once knew and not the man he has become.

“Blue means safe,” he then says, confusion still evident on his face. He looks like he is barely awake, his skin is cool to the touch when she taps his face again when he looks to be drifting off.

“Your emergency beacon, we need to turn it on, now,” she tells him when he looks up at her. She gives him as much of a stern look that she can muster. He needs to hold on long enough to tell her how to activate it. Then she has at least done everything she can to save the boy.

“Dad will be here,” Dick says, his one visible eye half open. He doesn’t seem to completely be with her anymore, and she doesn’t know what to answer his little statement with.

She regrets not taking Bruce up on that emergency com-unit he had offered her a few months back. She had been too afraid to say yes, even after all these years. Coms are too easy to trace. Too big of a commitment.

“Dick, your emergency beacon, how do I activate it?” she tries to keep her words clear, hoping they are filtering through Nightwings ears. One thing at a time, she tells herself.

“‘’s jus’ a button,” Dick mumbles, head lolling a little to the side. She grabs both sides of his face and forces him to look up at her.

“Which button?” she asks, but there is no response. Dick blinks up at her, but it looks like he isn’t actually seeing her.

“NIGHTWING!” she yells and shakes him a little, not even sorry for jostling him and the pain it causes. His eye focuses on her again, he blinks.

“Where is the emergency button?” she asks, not losing eye contact.

“Beside the l’ght, just - small,” he whispers, a drop of blood escapes the corner of his mouth and makes its way down his chin. She regrets it, but she has to let go of Dick’s face. Has to let their eye-contact go.

She looks at the utility belt. With the help of the claws on her gloves, she manages to pry the protective shield covering the blue light off. She pushes her goggles down again, and they help her get a closer look. There is, in fact, a small button placed half a centimeter from the little light. She pushes it in, hard.

For one too long second, her heart is in her throat.

The light switches to a glowing red.

“Hey, it’s red now, that means it’s activated, right?” she asks, still examining the little beacon. It’s a steady red, not blinking, just like the blue light had been earlier. There is no sound emitting from it. Then again, on the battlefield, anything playing sound might attract unwanted attention.

She looks up at Dick’s face again when there is no response. His head is to the side, mouth slightly open, and his eye is closed. His arm is completely limp now, laid over the leather jackets weak attempt to stop the bleeding from his gut.

Dread is filling her stomach. It starts at the bottom of it and fills up her lungs and throat and makes it hard to breathe. For a few seconds, it feels like too long, she is frozen. She wishes she had turned earlier, gone the other way, followed her original plan. Then she wouldn’t be sitting here. There wouldn’t be a bleeding and limp Nightwing by her side. Her maybe boyfriend’s oldest son would not be dying in front of her.

She puts two fingers on his neck, between the gap of the high-necked Nightwing suit and his chin. There is a pulse, but even her whose only medical knowledge comes from the street can feel that it is too damn slow. When she stares at his chest she can see that he is still breathing. His chest is still moving up and down, if only ever so slowly. It is too shallow, the movement too small.

She doesn’t know what to do now. This isn’t the first scene like this she has seen. People have died in front of her before. She has seen people laid dead and forgotten on an unforgiving ground too many times before.

But this is a kid she watched grow up. A once ten-year-old who she teased for his choice of uniform. A twelve-year-old she ate ice cream with, while they waited for Batman to show up. A teenager barely turned sixteen who she taught about sexual harassment when Bruce was lacking the emotional understanding to do it himself.

She knows she shouldn’t move him, considering his injuries, his bad leg, but she can’t let him lay there either with his head resting on a pillow made of dirt and asphalt. Medical reasons be damned, he is not going to die thinking he is alone.

A whine escapes his lips, even if he doesn’t wake up when she grabs his shoulders and drags him onto her lap. Both of them are damp, from both the moistness of the fog and all the blood which should’ve been inside Dick’s body. The inside of her jacket, still laid over Dick’s wound, is dark, filled with blood, and doing little purpose now. The wound itself is barely bleeding anymore. She does not want to think about what that means.

She softly hushes him when another whine escapes his lips. She uses her teeth to drag one of her black gloves off, and combs her now naked fingers through his hair, away from his face. The hair has grown stiff and matted because of all the blood and grime.

He is still breathing. His poor heart is still beating, desperately trying to pump blood through his system. The skin of his hand feels too cold when she touches it.

His breath hitches. His face falls. It goes slack. The furrowed brows ease.

Her heart feels like it is going to burst out of her chest. She holds her breath.

He takes a shuddering breath, and so does Selina.

Now he is completely limp in her arms, more so than before. He isn’t tightening his muscles in pain. His body feels more like jello than muscle and bone. When she looks at his face, the pained grimace is gone.

He is slipping.

She looks at the red light on his belt, which is still attached around his body. She wants to take it off, it’s digging into her hip. It can’t be comfortable for Nightwing either to be laying on it. But she knows the bats. They have their traps, especially on their weapons. She is not up for an electric shock, even if she could probably manage to dismantle it if she had the time. She has seen Bruce do it often enough.

She wonders why the damn emergency beacon hadn’t gone off in the first place. Nightwing’s vitals must have been far from good before she even arrived. They have only deteriorated since. She cradles him a little closer as a gust of wind follows the alleyway and sends chills down her spine.

When she lets her head dip back, and stares up at the sky, she can see that the fog is finally lifting. The night sky is almost peeking through.

She hopes she will see the blur of a cape up on the rooftop.

There is nothing of the sort.

She uses the glove she took off to wipe the blood off of Dick’s face. Half of the domino mask is still on. With gentle movements, she manages to peel it off. There’s no point in him wearing half a mask anyway, anyone who knew Dick would recognize him with only one eye covered. The area where the mask once sat is red and irritated. Some blood has seeped in under it while it was on, and now it’s dry and crusted. She wipes that away too.

She looks down at the young man’s face. He is still handsome, even when pale and supporting a busted lip and a darkening bruise on his left chin. He would have made a great cat if he wasn’t already a bat and Selina liked to have sidekicks. His jaw is sharp, and his body lithe and smooth while still muscular and strong. She thinks his Nightwing uniform resembles Catwoman’s more than Batman’s. The play on his body he uses is much like her own, she has thought about it many times before. It had been one of the reasons she had agreed to sit down and have that talk with him, all those years ago. Plus, watching Bruce squirm had just been too amusing

She and Richard could have been a good team if faith was different. She could have molded him quite nicely.

He is so young. She wonders how Bruce, who she knows sees all the little bats as his children, can let them do this. How can he let them run around, risk their own life, on a daily basis? How many will have to die before he puts an end to it?

Then again, none of the bats ever seems to stay dead.

If she is too loose Nightwing tonight, she hopes he isn’t the exception to the rule. Or do they all only get one resurrection? She doesn’t know the laws of death, who works in more mysterious ways than Batman himself.

Dick is deathly still in her arms. She would be sure he was dead if she didn’t have two fingers on his pulse. It is a miracle that he is even alive, considering the blood-loss he has suffered. But then again, Bruce has always complained about how stubborn his eldest is.

She hopes he gets the chance to complain about it again.

The roar of a powerful motor a couple of blocks away makes Selina tighten her grip on Dick. She tries to scoot them both backward further into the shadows, to safety. The man from before is thankfully still unconscious on the floor. She does not want to deal with some enraged criminal while Nightwing is still dying on the ground.

Dick was lucky before, when the only one all his not so subtle noise attracted was her. They might not be so lucky if someone else were to stumble upon them now.

A heavyset of boots falls from, seemingly, the sky. When she looks up from the alleyway floor, it’s into the glass visors of the Red Hood. Before saying anything to her, he is turning the man she found in her entrance to the alleyway over. He kicks him slightly as if to make sure he is out.

“Better to be on the safe side, right?” the Red Hood’s metallic voice says while turning to look at her again.

She knows that the Red Hood is supposed to be on the good side now and that it’s Jason Todd under there. She knew him, at least kind of, back when he was Robin. It was before he died and became.. whatever this in front of her is. Still, she is unsure. She has never been one to throw trust around. He must sense her hesitation because the next thing he does is reach back, behind his head, and with a swift click take off his helmet.

“I got the emergency alert,” he says when she makes no move to speak first. He isn’t looking at her face anymore though, or at her at all, but at the man still lying limp in her lap. His brother.

He steps forward and crouches down in front of them.

She lets her grip slacken a little, to let Jason get a good look off his dying brother.

“They got him good, huh?” he whispers.

“He’s lost blood, a lot of it, and his leg-” Selina says. Jason’s eyes move from the drenched leather jacket to Dick’s broken foot. “- his leg’s ruined, plus he’s got a concussion,” she continues.

“His breathing hasn’t been right since I got here. Jason,-” The Red Hood flinches when she uses his real name, and she files it away for a later time.

“He’s going to die,” she says.

Jason shakes his head, “Bruce is on the way, he won’t let him die,” he argues. Funny, because she is pretty sure Bruce was too late to save Jason. Then again, Dick had only a few minutes ago said something along those lines himself. He must have known he was on his deathbed as he proclaimed his belief in the bat.

Yet a glimmer of hope fills Selina, even if she doesn’t want it too. Bruce, Batman, is on his way. He is going to save Nightwing, do what Selina couldn’t. She won’t have to bear this much longer.

With help from Jason, they lay Dick down between them. Some irrational part of her wants to keep on holding him, just in case Dick slips away. But Jason wants to look over Dick himself, wants to be sure of what he’s dealing with, and Selina cannot deny him that. Instead, she settles on holding one of Dick’s white, almost blueish, hands tight in her own.

-

Dick’s heart stops beating one minute and thirty seconds before Bruce arrives.

When Batman runs into the dirty alley, the sky is clear above him and the moon is providing him with a pale shimmery light. The first thing he sees is Jason. And then - Jason, desperately trying to revive his older brother. Dick.

There is no sight of Selina, who had left the moment Richard’s heart stopped. Bruce didn’t even know she was there until Jason told him later.

-

Four weeks later, and Selina has heard nothing. She’s unsure if that’s good or bad. There hasn’t been anything in the underworlds rumor mill either. No one has seen or heard from Nightwing. She can’t say she’s surprised. There have only been wild guesses about the vigilante’s sudden disappearance. Nothing real or from a believable source.

The bat-sightings have been scarcer than normal too. She knows they’ve been doing their usual patrols though, minus Nightwing. She’s seen them. Every time she’s spotted them, she hasn’t been able to muster up the courage to confront them.

There hasn’t been anything on Dick Grayson either, besides a small notice of him traveling abroad. She hasn’t seen anything on the rest of the family either, besides the usual gossip tales of romance and heartbreak. If only real life was that easy.

Now she’s standing up on a rooftop, their rooftop. It is still a couple of hours until the sun will start to make its way up.

It is an olive branch if there ever was one. She is in his territory.

She hears Bruce before she sees him, the ruffle of his cape, the sound of his boots as he walks over the rooftop. He isn’t trying to hide, he wants her to know he’s there. She wonders if he’s trying not to spook her? It’s funny, as she is the one who initiated contact.

Selina doesn’t turn to look at him as he walks towards her. He comes up and stands by her side without a word.

They stay like that, looking over Gotham, for a couple of minutes. The moon is shining just like how it did when the fog lifted that night.

“You left,” Bruce says, finally breaking the silence.

Selina finds the power to look up at him. He has the cowl on, but even with his face half hidden, she can see that he looks tired. His uniform looks a little worse for wear like it hasn’t been on his mind, or anyone else’s, to patch up the small rifts in it.

“There was nothing more for me to do,” she answers because it is the truth. She could not bear to sit there and do nothing, and only look on as Jason Todd tried to revive his only older brother.

Her stomach hurts with a pain that doesn’t come from anything she’s eaten. It fills all of her. She wants to ask, to know. The teen has been on her mind too much the last few weeks. She has to ask now, or she will never have the courage again.

“The boy?” she is suddenly all too aware of how quiet it is. How it is as if even Gotham is holding her breath, waiting for Batman to reply.

Bruce shakes his head.

Selina feels sick as she tries to force the tears away from her eyes. Some part inside of her knew that it must have gone like this. Still, she had held onto a sliver of hope. The hope Jason Todd had given her, hope in the caped crusader, in that he would arrive on time. She grips the railing off the roof, her hands hidden under her new pair of gloves. Her last ones had been drenched by blood beyond saving. Just like Richard.

She almost wishes she hadn’t ever asked. It would be better living in uncertainty until the news broke for the rest of the world, rather than being told by Bruce himself like this. By Bruce, and his broken voice.

“Only the family knows,” Bruce says. It is obvious he is working very hard to keep his voice unemotional and detached.

“Did he say any-, what was, I -,” it’s painful to hear Batman stumble over his words.

Selina wishes she had something meaningful to say to him. That Dick had proclaimed his love for his family or found the words to make his death easier on everyone - but he hadn’t. His death, like most deaths in their line of work, was filled with pain. His last moments awake had only been filled with desperation to survive.

“I.., he just.. said where the button for the emergency beacon was,” she says. She’s surprised when she manages to keep her voice steady.

Even if she knew Dick when he was Robin in his childhood and early teen years, she had little to do with him once he grew up into a man. Still here she is, crying over his death.

“He.. he did ask if you sent me, to get him, when I arrived,” she adds as an afterthought, unsure if she should say it or not. She doesn’t know if it will do more bad than good.

“The vital-reader, in his suit, it malfunctioned. It.. broke, while he was fighting, judging by the timestamp it stopped transmitting,” Bruce’s voice is filled with bitterness. “I didn’t even know how bad it was before I got there, and all that time he just… laid there,” his voice comes close to cracking. It hurts to hear this. It hurts to hear Batman unravel.

She thinks about telling Bruce that his son wasn’t alone. She wonders if she should tell him that she held his son in his last moments. That even if his family wasn’t there he at least must have known that someone was there. Someone held his hand as his heart stopped.

Maybe she should tell Batman that his son had faith that he would arrive on time. That he held on to the belief, even as his life was slowly ebbing out in time with the blood pouring out of his gut. That Dick had still, at a point where he must have known he was going to die, believed his dad would come for him.

She can’t bring herself to get the words out. It hurts too much, and she doesn’t know if it will help Bruce anyway. Bruce has a way of turning everything that happens into something that was his fault, his mistake. It would be too easy for him if Selina were to tell him some of Dick’s last words now. She doesn’t know how to say it in a way he will understand.

It seems to be a theme with the two of them, never finding the right words.

When it becomes clear to Bruce she has nothing more to say, that she has no more comments on how much Dick suffered in his final moments, the man leaves. He jumps over the ledge, grapnel gun in hand, and once again disappears into the night.

A dark cloud covers the moon as Selina makes her way down from the rooftop. Her new boots make almost no sound as she moves down the stairs. As she slips into the shadows again, it feels like Gotham is suffocating from holding her breath waiting for the first Robin to come back.

-

ALso@liathgray explained the title like this; “cats cradle has been associated with innocence vs corruption and situations that become increasingly complicated” and i just found that very very perfect and fitting

again, theres an alternate ending available on tumblr here 

[opheliawillowbrook]

Let the Record Show

A/N: So as stated, this fic has been written to provide closure to the infamous arc brought about in Nightwing #93 in which (if you are unaware-so spoilers!) Nightwing is raped by Tarantula (Catalina) after the death of Blockbuster because, (if you think like Devin Grayson) why the fuck not, right? Thankfully for those of you reading this, I don't. But in any case, my friend (Embrlee Frith) and I have discussed this arc in-depth and thought it (aside from most untactful) very poorly handled. Which is a shame since there really were some good bones to discuss, not just about rape, but also male rape victims in our society and the aftermath that all victims of sexual assault and rape survivors go through. However, as most of you are probably aware, DC and Devin Grayson sorta dropped that ball and refused to pic it back up. Though, to be fair, Ms. Grayson, being, well-Ms. Grayson, did try and clarify the scene by referring to it as "non-consensual sex" which is probably the most accurate example of an oxymoron one can bring to fruition, but that's a subject for another time. But given the sort of "mishandling" of the canon, I was commissioned by our lovely Ms. Frith to cover this subject matter and try and bring some closure to this event for both the reader and the character.

I'd also like to apologize to anyone offended by my words of Ms. Grayson. I'm clearly not a fan of her work (as I'm sure I've made it very clear) I just think as a writer this subject matter deserved far more respect than it got and this is my attempt at providing that.

I Also recently re-edited this story and hope the changes help make it feel finished. Please let me know what you think :) I also found a great song to go along with this fic. It's called "They're Not Horses, They're Dead Unicorns" by Bayside. So if you like a little music with you reading, you might enjoy it!

So if you're still reading this, I'd like to thank you. Let me know what you think and let's see if we can put this ghost to rest now, shall we?

As Always, With Love

-Ophelia

“She was a termite, Eating away at my roots. I was just a lost soul, who needed a home, I was filling, a void, with you.” --Bayside

He sat in a dark corner of the crowded bar at a small table by the foggy window. This was far from how he'd normally spend an evening, but tonight was far from a normal night. It had begun to rain over Gotham, the air thick with its dewy metallic scent. It almost smelled like blood—like her . He looked down at his half empty beer bottle, a little distressed that he was three drinks in, and the edge still wasn't off.

Drinking was always something he'd avoided, something he looked at as unnecessary and otiose, but in the wake of the past year, he'd built something of a tolerance to it. It was all he could do to cope at times. He didn't consider himself an alcoholic; he mostly only had a drink or two, but he still wasn't proud of the fact it was something he required now, that it was the only thing that came close to washing away that bitter taste.

It had been a year since he'd lost everything he'd worked so hard for. A year since he'd lost friends, his city, and the thousands of innocent lives within it. But worst of all, he'd lost a significant piece of himself, and he blamed himself for all of it. All because of one night, one choice and her.

The thought of her was nearly enough to make him sick as he downed a sip of beer to try and flush her foul taste from his mouth. However, the cheap beer and whisky was not enough to drown out the bitterness—that rotten taste he could just never get off his tongue. It was like he'd unknowingly bitten into a spoiled piece of fruit, only to find its sweetness was replaced with decay and maggots. He could still feel the invasive parasites crawl beneath his skin every now and then. At just the right moment, with just the right touch, or the right set of words. The feeling always left him feeling dirty, and no matter how hard he scrubbed or scratched, her touch would never wash off him. He'd wear her mark for the rest of his life.

What was worse was that he'd never told anyone about what had happened to him; he himself had a hard time believing its validity. In his mind, he tried to tell himself that what he thought happened was nothing of the sort. That the trauma of watching a man die was the reason for his physical and mental discord. Or at least that's what she'd told him.

Still, it never mattered how many times he tried to talk himself down, or how many times he tried to tell himself that what happened, hadn't happened at all. He could still never get that bloody taste out his mouth. He could even taste it on the air.

"I would have never pegged you as the drinking alone type," he heard a familiar voice say.

He looked up to find a single blue eye staring down at him, her lily-white hair draped around her black leather jacket.

"Rose," he said in a genuine shock, "what are you doing here? Why aren't you with the Titans ?"

"Yeah, about that," she said, taking a seat next to him, "that wasn't exactly hooking up. So I'm currently between jobs right now."

"Okay," Dick replied perplexed, "then what are you doing here?" he asked, entertaining some guilt that she'd gone out on her own. He was after all her mentor.

She shrugged somberly. "Well, I just found out that the closest thing I had to a best friend died…"

"Eddie…" he said ruefully, recalling that Tim recounted the incident, but he hadn't mentioned that Rose left the team. "I'm sorry."

She gave him a weak smile and stole a sip of his beer. "Don't be. Eddie died a hero, and in my book, he couldn't have gone out like more of a badass." She paused a moment, clearly remembering her friend. If anything, she was sad for herself, but refused to admit it. A lot like him.

"But with that being said," she added, "I'm here to drink my feelings and have a meaningless hook-up… Care to help a girl out, Grayson?"

She smiled at him coyly. He'd like to have thought she was joking, but he knew she wasn't. If Rose Wilson was anything, she was brutally honest, and he respected that.

"I can help you with the first half of your missions of self-destruction, but you're on your own with the latter."

"Eh, it was worth a shot," she shrugged, "but it's your loss."

"Somehow I'll live."

Sadly enough, part of him wanted to take her up on her offer. The idea of losing himself in another for a few hours was a tempting way to momentarily ease him of his current torment. However, he knew once the sheets were dirtied and the sweat was dried, he'd be right back where he began. Rose was also a little too young for him, and he didn't feel like adding statutory to his already stained morality. Though it seemed to be the least of her worries. But if nothing else, she'd make good company for his misery.

He ordered her a drink, mostly because he knew that if he didn't, she'd find someone else who would. And he'd have much rather been the man feeding her alcohol than one of the many seedy low-lives who'd jump at the chance to hinder the autonomy of a pretty 17-year-old girl. Not that Dick worried about Rose's ability to take care of herself. He knew she was more than capable, but if breaking one rule prevented her from making a horrible mistake, then he didn't see the harm in it.

The two sipped their beers and talked about their losses and gains. Though somehow they felt their losses were what made them who they were.

Dick took notice at how much Rose had matured, she'd oddly grown up a lot in the past year. She was still very much the same: Hot-headed and unpredictable, but she'd begun to understand how to use those things to her advantage. Dick couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. At least he'd done something right.

They both finished their drinks, and when Dick glanced up to the bar to get a second round, he froze.

It's never gonna stop...

Rose noticed his sudden shift, his face paused, his eyes staring blankly ahead.

"You okay?"

He snapped out of it and looked at her. "I have to go."

He took out his wallet and threw a couple bills down on the table, hurrying himself to leave. But it was too late, she saw him.

She stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to fix her drink. She looked like she were dressed for a funeral, as though she were burying her third husband. Her black dress was low, showing off the prominent curves of her breasts, her lips painted red, like they were stained with his blood. But it didn't matter how pretty she looked. For beneath that low black dress and behind that lipstick smile she flashed at him, he could see just how ugly she truly was.

Suddenly it was like the world stopped turning and the ground fell from beneath his feet. He was back in that moment again, like the scar had been ripped open with a dull knife, the blade delving deep into his dignity.

It's never gonna stop...

"Dick?" He could hear Rose's voice, distant, like she were 100 miles away. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know..."

He took off, practically running out the door, pushing past the crowd of people until he was out in the pouring rain. It was as though he couldn't breathe, like his lungs had filled with a toxic smoke, smothering him in with past he just couldn't shake. He could feel the rain hitting his face, a sensation he'd once found clean and refreshing, only now it felt like an affliction, like a cancer burning into his skin. Convicting him with the sins he'd committed, and the ones committed against him.

Rose had immediately run after him, knowing something was deeply wrong.

"Dick! Dick, wait!" Rose called, her platinum hair looking grey beneath the foggy rain. "Are you okay—what happened?"

He didn't stop, he just kept moving, not sure what to say. "I just need to go home, Rose."

It was a terrible excuse, but it was the best he could come up with. Plus, what could he really say? He couldn't even admit the truth to himself, never mind a teenage girl who held him in such high standing.

"It's okay, you can tell me," she urged, but he still wouldn't stop. "It was that girl, wasn't it?"

He stopped. The rain beating down on him like it had in that very night a your ago.

"She did something to you, didn't she?"

He turned, at a loss, not even sure what to say, but before he could speak, he saw her again.

She'd stepped out of the bar, just under the overhang, looking out at him through falling sky. He stared at her for a minute, part of him wanting to show her how badly he hurt. How deeply that scar through his heart ran. But another part of him was still too afraid to even look her in the eye. For a moment he thought she'd try and approach him, but she didn't, and at first, he couldn't understand why. Then it hit him. And no, it had nothing to do with melting Wicked Witch of the West style.

Rose...

She had now locked her eyes on the woman beneath the overhang, keeping herself from the damp air.

Dick wasn't sure what would come next. Part of him wondered if Rose would, well, pull a Rose and throw a right hook across Catalina's face. Or if Catalina would say something in an attempt to dismiss the younger girl. Something he knew wouldn't go over well.

However, Rose surprised him. She turned her scowling face away from the woman in black and walked toward Dick.

"Come on," she said over the percussion of rain. "This place will let anyone in, we're better off at your place."

The whole speech was a jab at Catalina. She didn't need her mentor to tell her anything, she already knew. Like she could smell that primal fear radiating off him, or possibly even something about the way that woman looked at him. Her smile gilded with something predatory, hungry for self-satisfaction and the taste of blood on her tongue.

Rose took him by the arm and led him away, the rain still pouring down around them. It's humid smell rising from the flooded pavement beneath his feet. Dick could still feel her eyes on him, a feeling of shame ricocheting down his spine as he was whisked away by his own protégé, the old one merely watching as she did so. He'd faced murderous mad men, violent Metahumans, and bloodthirsty demons, but somehow, a simple human woman was the greatest monster he'd ever faced. A woman he could have easily overpowered, yet somehow couldn't. The thought left a deep wound in his masculinity, like he failed as a man, like maybe he'd let it happen. These poisonous thoughts were something he'd become accustomed to ever since Catalina had taken matters into her own hands.

By the time they made it back to Dick's apartment, they were both soaked to the bone. He could feel the filthy rain collecting along his jaw and dripping heavily from his chin as he unlocked the door. Rose noticed his hands were shaking and he cursed at himself as he struggled to steady them. He finally got the key into the lock and turned it, looking around before entering the safety of his home. They entered the reasonably sized studio apartment, and Dick flicked on the light. He closed the door behind them, locking the knob, deadbolt, and key chain. Rose, of course, thought it was a bit overkill, but given his reaction to the woman at the bar, she'd have done the same thing.

"She's really got you on edge," Rose said, pulling off her soggy coat. "Who is she?"

"No one."

"Well, then she's a whole lot of no one ." Rose grimaced. "I'm sensing "They're Not Horses, They're dead Unicorns," vibe?"

"Something like that…" he sighed, wiping the rain from his brow, "only in the darkest context possible."

"What do you think she wants?"

He looked up at her. He hadn't really thought of that. It had been a year since he'd seen her last, since he just walked away and never looked back. She got what she wanted, why would she come back now?

"Fuck," he huffed blankly and sat down. His mind digging up an old thought he'd once had, one he prayed wouldn't come to fruition.

Rose could see the lost look in his eyes and the disparity quaking in the space where his heart used to be. This was nothing new to her. Whatever he lost, he'd lost it before they'd met. Only now she was beginning to understand what that was. She could now see just where that jaded and cynical nature came from, exactly what cracks left him shattered. Unlike many, she was actually about to see exactly what slipped through those cracks, exactly what had been taken away from him.

"I take it whatever she did to you, you're not over it?"

He looked at her with an ill expression and ran his hand through the fringe of his damp hair. "I don't know if I'll ever be over it," he said ruefully. That was the closest he'd ever come to admitting it, to saying it aloud.

Rose looked down, that was all she needed to hear. He didn't need to say more.

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

He glanced up at her and smiled at a loss, but also for the fact that she didn't laugh at him, that she didn't seem to judge him for it. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do," he admitted. "Some days I can live it, then come days like this, where I can barely get my shit together."

She could understand that feeling, knowing how it felt to want to shed the scars that bind you, only you can't help but be who they've made you.

"You can talk about it if you want."

"Thanks," he said, and smiled falsely, "but talking about it is something I'm still not quite able to do." He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, like it were they that had betrayed him. "I just don't understand it completely. And honestly, I just wanna forget it ever happened."

"But your body won't let you."

He nodded painfully, almost feeling like he had to vomit. He had to change the subject. "Sorry I ruined your night."

Rose smiled and shrugged nonchalantly. "No big deal, you probably saved me from making a poor life choice."

"That's probably true," he conceded with a nod.

"Yeah, seriously. Once my brain tastes alcohol it's like it's go time! Let's make some fucking mistakes! And see how quickly you can ruin the life you work so hard for..." she broke into a slight giggle. Rose was often amused with her on sense of humor.

Dick shook his head, well aware that Rose Wilson and alcohol were not meant to be in good company with each other. That girl could do a whole lot of damage and end up with one hell of a hangover. But he laughed anyway.

"But hey, now I can technically say I went home with Nightwing. I got braggin' rights now."

He shook his head at her shit-eating grin, realizing she'd probably use that to piss off daddy . It would also do little for either of their dwindling reputations, but he had bigger problems to worry about.

"I know you don't wanna talk about it, but I get the feeling you think she found you," Rose said. "Is she capable of that?"

Unfortunately enough, she was. She was an ex-FBI agent, after all. She probably knew exactly where he was this entire time and he never even thought to look behind him. But truth be told, he didn't want to know. It was easier if he didn't go looking for her in every shadow that haunted every corner.

"Yeah."

"Do you think she's been following you?"

He didn't want to think of that either, but he wouldn't put it past her. "Yeah, and it wouldn't be the first time."

"Jesus." Rose scowled. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"A year ago."

"So what's she doing, slinking up from Hell for some fresh air, thinking she'd just drop by, say hello?"

Dick grimaced. "I'm honestly really afraid to find out…" The look on his face hardened, consequence tying his tongue.

"Oh…" She paused a minute, thinking about how devastating that would be. To have something so heavy thrust upon you; forever tied to the person who'd already taken so much. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, and I really hate to say this, but there's no way she'd look like that if she'd dropped a fucking kid like three months ago."

Dick looked up at her. Only Rose would say something like that.

"I mean her tits would be like on the floor," she added crassly. "She could take a fucking eye out with those puppies, and I should know."

He glared at her, not sure whether to scowl or laugh. On one hand, her banter was oddly amusing, and on the other, he had a really hard time accepting humor in that moment. But maybe that was his problem.

"Rose, I know you're just trying to help, but if you could stop talking about how hot Catalina is, that would be great."

"Hey, I never said that walking gash was hot, I just said her fucking boobs could have their own gravitational pull," she corrected. "Life's not fucking fair, man," she added referring to her own humble cup size.

"Yeah, it's not," Dick accorded coldly, and he couldn't have agreed more.

His life had literally become one horrible montage of one bad thing after the next, and it all started the second she showed up. In the beginning, he actually felt guilty for feeling that way, like it was somehow unfair of him to blame her for things that came of his own volition. But with time, it simply just became part of his coping mechanism. Catalina equaled death, devastation and rape, and he just couldn't see past that. He liked to think if he'd just never met her, or if he'd just thrown her ass in jail when he had the chance, that everything would be different. Maybe nobody would have died, and that Blüdhaven would still be standing today.

What was worse, and the thing that ate at him the most, was that he'd willingly invited her into his life. He'd delivered himself like some naive lamb to slaughter because he'd actually once felt sorry for her. That's what it had always come down to. She had a shitty life, it wasn't her fault. If he had just been a better man, or a better mentor , she wouldn't have turned out like that. It didn't seem to matter that she was a grown woman and should have known better, he still made excuses for her. But now, he couldn't excuse that she was stained in his blood and the blood of others, and he couldn't do shit about it. Catalina was literally like a flesh-eating bacteria to him. A termite eating away at his body and soul.

"You've never actually confronted her, have you?" Rose asked, once again pulling him into the now.

He sighed and shook his head. "Not really—no. There was so much going on after it happened and I was still kinda in shock. She told me I wasn't thinking straight and that the trauma I'd experienced made me look at it that way. I believed her because I wanted to, but as the shock wore off and I began to see how far she'd burrowed into my life… I knew I was right."

He seethed a moment, that foul metallic taste overcoming his mouth.

"She was literally taking over my life, acting like she'd done nothing wrong—acting like she belonged with me. I couldn't take it, so I left."

"That's when you started mentoring me…" Rose said, having a rough idea of the timeline.

Dick looked up, it really was ironic. He'd been so badly burned by one protégé, and the other was the only thing keeping him from crawling out of skin.

"Yeah, you turned out fine, though."

"Yeah, because of you," Rose urged. She owed him everything. Without Dick Grayson, who knew where she'd be. "Without you, I could never be a hero."

He looked at her fondly, but he knew she didn't feel like one. He didn't feel like one either.

"Y'know," Rose began, "sometimes you gotta take your pound of flesh and just walk away."

"I'm really not one for revenge, Rose."

"I saw the way you looked at her, Dick," she said, sitting next to him, "like if you could kill her and get away with it, you would."

He didn't say anything, but that was exactly how he felt, only he knew it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't fix him.

He rose from the couch and walked to a drawer, he opened it and took out an old shirt, throwing it over to Rose.

"You should change out of those wet clothes. There's a laundry room downstairs if you wanna throw your stuff in the drier."

She caught the shirt and nodded. "Yeah, there's no way in Hell I'm leaving you alone tonight. Not with Psycho Bitch on the prowl."

He smiled. "Wanna order a pizza?"

"You paying?"

After that, the two talked about why Rose left the Titans, and why she felt she didn't really fit there. They talked about Eddie, and how Rose had asked him to leave with her. That was a little painful.

Rose asked how things with Barbara were going (they were supposed to get married, after all.) However, the answer was nowhere. Apparently Dick was having a hard time functioning in the relationship, specifically because Barbara was always so micro-focused on everything he did. From what she understood, that was nothing new. Barbara had a reputation for being a little unforgiving, especially when it came to Dick. And Rose could totally understand why he didn't feel comfortable opening up to her about what he'd been through. He wanted her to see him as strong and competent. He'd probably feared she'd think he were exaggerating, or scold him for being too trusting with Catalina in the first place. And though his fears weren't necessarily warranted, she understood why he felt that way. Nobody wants the love of their life to see them as damaged.

He apparently tried his hand at a few other relationships, but nothing really seemed to fit. Everything just seemed uncomfortable, and in some cases, much like with Barb, they just didn't have the patience for his newfound affliction. It's like everything just felt so disconnected.

His concept of touch was altered, and not the violent sort, the intimate kind. Little gestures made his stomach sink, especially if he wasn't expecting them. There were times when a woman he was deathly attracted to would lean in, and he'd pull away without a second thought. It had just become instinct. Even something as simple and comforting as a hug had become a perversion of itself. He hated how things of such simple kindness now held such rue and disdain. Things that once breathed of love and strength were now among the things he feared most. It was like the ties to his humanity were cut clean from his bones.

Dick looked at the time to find the hour was far beyond late, and he was beginning to feel it as well.

"I think I'm gonna turn in," he said. "You can take the bed."

Rose shook her head. "No, I'm good with the couch. Unless, you wanna share the bed with me," she said with a sly grin.

"No offense," Dick said, and smiled, "but I'd rather take the couch. Nice try, though."

"What can I say, I'm not a quitter."

"And I admire that, but you're off-limits."

She smirked at him, as if his comment gave her some vague validation. "Yeah, but if you change your mind, the offer's still on the table," she added mischievously. "But for real, I'll take the couch. You're much taller than me, it's not really fair to make you sleep on it."

"You're not making me, I'm offering."

"And much like my offer, I'm not taking yours."

"Okay, then," Dick said, picking up a pillow. "Oh, and Rose…"

She turned and looked over at him questionably.

"If you pull that shit you pulled on Tim, I'm gonna kick your ass."

He threw the pillow at her and she smiled, actually looking a little embarrassed.

"Um, I plead the fifth," she replied, catching it. "But, I will say that I was absolutely shit-canned that night and my crowning achievement of the evening was that I didn't die."

"Sounds like you made some fucking mistakes."

"Oh, you know it."

"Night, Rose," he said, crawling into bed.

"Night, Deathwing."

He rolled his eyes. "I hate that name."

"I know."

He didn't get much sleep that night. For even in the still silence, his brain would not shut off. His body desperately ached to shut itself off, but this primal force would not allow it. He lay in bed, just staring at the ceiling, shuffling through the thoughts and fears. Counting the losses, wondering if there was anything gained through any of it, but he just couldn't seem to find anything.

Rose was fast asleep, curled up in a ball on the couch. He took a deep breath, both out of loss and boredom.

He couldn't help but wonder where she was then, where'd she'd been. If she'd been there this entire time, and he just hadn't seen her until now. What did that say if she had?

He finally found the word that he'd been searching for. The word that best described the vile taste in his mouth. The one that brought validation to the feeling he'd been struck with when he'd noticed her dressed all in black.

"Violated," he whispered into the darkness. That's how he felt—how he'd felt ever since the moment she'd touched him. Everything she'd done after that, and even before, was a violation of his life, his morality, his body and above all—his sanity.

He wondered if she'd even seen it that way. If there was one thing wrong with Catalina, it was her moral compass, but he couldn't see that as an excuse any longer. He couldn't accept that she just didn't know any better. If anything, that made it worse.

When the morning finally came, Dick had managed to snag a few meager hours of sleep, but it was better than nothing. He got up, showered, and made some coffee, the smell rousing Rose from what he could only describe as a near coma.

Lucky little bitch.

She stretched out on the couch like a lazy house cat who wanted her belly rubbed, but she wasn't so lucky.

"It lives," Dick said, bringing her a cup of much-needed coffee.

She smiled tiredly, sleep fresh in her eye. "Yeah, there were a few hours there where my soul was like, I should probably go …"

"Well, then consider this coffee the rejection notice to your DNR."

She took the mug and thanked him, taking a generous sip.

"So where you off to from here?" he asked, heading back behind the counter.

She shrugged. "Not sure yet. I'll probably just wander around until something sticks."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll revise the game plan," she replied flatly. "Or maybe retire to Florida and die."

"You're kinda young for that," he laughed.

"When has age ever stopped me?"

He raised a brow. "Good point."

"What about you?" she asked. "What's next for Nightwing? "

"Breakfast." He took a carton of eggs from the fridge and a package of bacon. "You like bacon, right?"

"Uh, yeah," she replied, stretching again. "Anyone who doesn't can't be trusted."

"That's what I like to hear. Eggs scrambled?"

"Sure," she laughed, rising from the couch and leaning against the counter.

He noticed the shit eating grin on her face, he had to ask. "What's so funny?"

"Um, I'm wearing your T-shirt and you're making me breakfast, and the best part is, I didn't even have to blow you."

God, she has no filter, he thought. If that was her way of flirting, then at least one would always know where they stood with her.

"Well, I hate to ruin your little school girl fantasy, but would you mind beating the eggs?" he said, handing her a bowl and a whisk.

She smirked and opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off at the pass. "And do not say what I know you're about to say."

"Oh you're no fun—I'm only kidding."

He laughed. "Rose, we both know you're not kidding."

She smiled coyly. "Guilty, but what do you want from me? At least I'm fun—unlike Kara. Now that girl's got a serious problem. You should see her Pinterest page. It's fucking creepy, and so is Cassie's…"

"I don't even understand what Pinterest is."

"Keep it that way, I wish I had. Girls get uber creepy on Pinterest." Rose paused a moment. "Speaking of creepy. I can only imagine what Cuntberry's Pinterest page looks like."

"Now I'm really happy I don't know what Pinterest is."

They went on to make breakfast and eat, continuing their banter, going on about old teammates and who was where. Dick offered to clean up while Rose took a shower, not that she needed an excuse to skip out on the cleanup. When she was done, she got dressed and ready to head out.

"You need anything," he asked, walking her out of the building, "like money or—"

"Thanks," she said, cutting him off, "but I'm good. Plus with a face like this, free alcohol won't be in short supply."

"I meant like... for food and a place to stay." He scowled playfully.

"I'm fine, my mom left me some money. So I'll be good until I figure out what the hell I'm doing."

"Well, I think you should go back to school."

"I have my GED, that's fine."

"A degree would better," he replied, pushing the door open. "You're a smart girl, it would be a shame to waste that."

"That coming from the boy who dropped out of Hudson University ... and became a cop."

"Hey, I got great benefits with that job."

"Yeah, 'cause being a trust fund brat doesn't pay, right?"

He pushed her playfully, and she punched his arm. "Ah," he whimpered, forgetting how strong she was. "So violent."

"Like you can't take it," she said, stepping out on the sidewalk. "So I guess this is me…"

He shrugged looking back at her and stepped out the door. "So where you staying?"

"Shitty motel, other side of town."

"Sounds swanky."

"It's kinda charming… if you like crime scene tape, the smell of burnt cigarette ash and a gratuitous amount of prostitution."

"Sounds a lot like your childhood."

She burst out laughing as if she didn't laugh she'd cry. "Sadly true. Lord only knows the damage I've suffered at the hands of my parents."

He smiled, reaching into his pocket, and took something out. "Here," he said, holding a pre-pay phone. "My number's already programmed in it. If you need anything, let me know."

She smiled gratefully and took the device. "Does that also include—" she began mischievously, until Dick stopped her.

"3am booty calls—no."

"Damn," she sighed. "Worth a shot though. And thank you… for putting up with me and my nonsense."

"Well, your nonsense actually helped me get through a pretty tough night so��� thank you."

"Well, if you need anything, I'll probably be around later."

"I'll keep that in mind." He smiled.

She began to turn, but stopped and turned back to him. "Y'know how you're always telling me to not be so hard on myself and that I shouldn't be dwelling on the past because I can't change it and all that shit?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, vaguely."

"You should do the same," she replied. "You can't change what happened, but you can be stronger for it."

He looked at her a moment. She may not have been without her faults, but she really did possess a heart of gold. And he couldn't have been prouder of her.

He pulled her into a hug, slightly taking the girl by surprise, but she quickly relaxed into it.

"Thank you," he whispered. "It's nice to know I did something right."

She smiled against his shoulder. "You saw the good in me when I couldn't, I thought you deserved the same," she said, then finally pulled away. "Well this has officially gotten far too sappy for my liking. I'm off like a prom dress, Grayson."

"Bye, Rose!" He waved. "And be good!"

A smug expression fixed on her face. "I can make no such promise," she droned, "but for you, I'll try…"

He watched her leave, hoping she too, would find her place in the world. It would be a shame if she didn't. When she was gone, he turned to go back upstairs when a thought crossed his mind. A thought that raised the hair on the back of his neck. He looked around, it was like he could feel her , like he knew she was there, but he just couldn't see her.

I'm just being paranoid, he thought. I need to stop thinking about this.

He grudgingly shook off the feeling and headed back into his building. When he reached his apartment, he dug into his pocket, and his heart dropped.

"Damn it," he hissed, realizing he'd misplaced his key.

It wasn't really that big of a deal, he was more than capable of breaking into his own apartment. He just didn't really feel like doing it. He looked around, and noticed an old bobby pin lying on the floor, not far from where he stood.

"Perfect."

He picked up the pin and bent it back, he'd have the lock picked in no time. He placed his hand on the knob and inserted the pin, but before he could go to work on the lock, he realized the door was unlocked.

He froze. "No, it can't be…"

He turned the knob with an unsteady hand and slowly pushed the door open. He peeked his head in, looking around to see if anyone was there. He finally found the nerve to step inside. Part of him actually contemplating calling Rose and asking her to come back.

Fucking man up, Grayson , he thought, silently scolding himself, especially since a year prior this would have been nothing to him.

He looked around, nothing seemed to have been touched or out of place, everything was just the way he'd left it… except for one thing.

His eyes fell on his pillow; there was something lying there, something that just didn't belong. He approached his bed, slowly, readying himself for anything that came his way in that moment. Deep down, he hoped he was just over-exaggerating, that maybe Rose had left it there for him. But any hope of that was dashed when he peered down at the envelope and saw her handwriting, scratched across the white paper in red.

Mi Amor, it read as he picked it up, a vile mix of anger, fear, disgust and bitterness pressing into his flesh as he held it.

She was here…

His knees buckled and he collapsed, too overcome by the thought that she'd been in his home. That she could, and did, actually take that security away from him. How could she? Did she actually think this tactic was romantic? Or was this simply just a power play? How long had she been waiting for him to leave? She had to have been watching him.

He felt sick and threw the letter down, scrambling for the waste basket, his body violently purging the contents of his stomach. He dry heaved a few times, his breath tight, his heart pounding in his throat. His face was hot, everything was hot.

He tried to focus, and pull himself out his current state of duress. "Think of something else…"

But he couldn't. And the truth was, that was what she wanted. She didn't want any other thought to cross his mind, she wanted that space for herself. She wanted to consume him.

He sat there a while, forgetting about time, his mind just completely racing until it finally grew numb. Everything went numb.

He resented it—feeling like a victim, but he was one, and he hated her for it. He hated how weak he'd become and how easily he crumbled at the mere thought of her. He hated that she'd infiltrated him and festered in his mind. That she was the source of such rotten memories, each one decaying as he slept, the infection spreading through his consciousness and destroying his sanity cell by cell.

He looked down at his hands, flashing back to an image that had burned itself in his mind, one that made him recoil. He could see her face through the billowing shadows and the silver flecks of rain, her eyes cast down on him. Through the still frames, his quaking hand reached up to stop her, but failed to do so, his objection falling on not a deaf ear, but an ignorant one. He felt empty, like he'd died, his heart ceasing to beat, but somehow, left watching from his empty shell. Like a cage with a dead bird inside.

Now, in that very hand, he held the letter, nearly forgetting it was there. He didn't want to open it, he didn't care what she had to say, or how she felt, or how fucking crazy she was. None of that mattered, she'd already taken too much. She could kill him for all he cared, at least then it would be over.

He pulled himself together and tore the envelope open. He took out the piece of fine paper, a faint scent hitting him like a ghost he was far too familiar with. It was her perfume, an odious blend of mahogany and teakwood. It was slightly musky and wreaked of her cruel brand of femininity. The smell was enough to force his flesh to crawl, his hand aching as his eyes flashed with the loathsome image of her shadow in the rain.

He took a heavy breath and unfolded the note, the same red ink staining the purity of the pale page, his stony blue eyes growing grey as the storm rolled in.

To my dearest Amor, Mi Tesoro,

(And if that wasn't enough to induce vomiting...)

It's been far too long, I know. My time away from you has been nothing but agonizing. I tried—I really did—to stay away like you asked of me, but… I just couldn't. And to be honest, if I could find a way to tie you to me so that you'd never leave me again—I would. No one could ever love you the way I do, or as much as I do, Mi Amor.

As for the last time we saw each other, I forgive you. I know you were in a dark place then, and I'm hoping you'll let me help to ease that pain. I would die for you, I hope you know that.

I'm sorry to contact you like this, but I cannot stand the thought of you rejecting me in person—not again. I want to start over with you, I want things to be different between us. Please meet me tonight at the bar. After seeing you last night, I can't wait any longer. I don't know what I'll do if you don't show… Please just give me this one thing.

If for whatever reason you decide not to show, just know I love you with my dying breath, and know I always will…

Todo Mi Amor, Catalina

Her words read like sugar laced with cyanide, delusional and so far removed from the suffering she'd caused. Like she'd come back to rip what was left from his half-empty chest. The letter still hung in his hands, the red ink somehow disturbing to him. Granted, the whole gesture was disturbing to him. She'd violated his privacy, his home, his body, and written down every word of it as though it were love. And maybe it was-the deadly kind .

He looked again at that last line, those deathly sweet words bring him back to one moment.

It's never gonna stop…

And, indeed, it was never going to stop.

He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes, trapped in grief. He just didn't know what to do. He tried running off, he tried sending her away. He'd literally had her locked up and thrown away the key, and still, she somehow managed to slither her way out of that. What could he do now?

He finally removed himself from the floor and made sure every window and door was locked up tight. He immediately ripped off all his clothes and took another shower in a feverish, angry fashion, the water so hot it nearly blistered his skin, and remained that way until it finally ran numbingly cold. But he still felt dirty.

He got out of the shower and looked at his worn face in the mirror. He felt as though he'd aged about a thousand years, yet he was trapped in the body of a twenty-something year-old man. A shell of who he used to be. That foul taste still sour in his mouth, mixing with the sick taste of bile. If only she were like old gum to him, momentarily sweet, but tasteless, something he could spit out and forget. He did his best to brush away the putrid flavor, but like so many nights he'd endured, he just couldn't rid himself of her aftertaste.

He didn't bother getting dressed, he just crawled into bed and lay there, wishing he could sleep, but such a mercy was not granted to him. As the hours passed, he thought about the yesterdays: The long sleepless nights, the following days after Blockbuster's death and what came of it. Each frame passed by him like a fog, like ghosts without names, aimlessly moving through him. Their cold hands removing pieces of him and burying them beneath wilting flowers where they'd lie forgotten, rotting away into nothing.

After a few hours of silently wasting away, he looked at the time. It was a little after 5pm. He was hungry, but he didn't really care, mostly because it didn't matter what he ate, he'd still taste her.

His phone rang, startling him. He missed the days when he wasn't so jumpy. Now if someone so much as touched him, his skin would crawl. He didn't want to bother getting it, but knew if he didn't, it might raise some concerns on the other end. He just hoped it wasn't anything important. Or better yet, he hoped it wasn't her.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he heard Rose say, "whatcha up to?"

Lying in bed contemplating killing myself. "Nothing, thinking about making dinner. You?"

"Eating dinner, and binge-watching Dexter. "

"That sounds… like a weird combo…"

"Yeah, this show makes me hungry, as do most things, really."

Dick shook his head. She really did take after her uncle Wade.

"So did you just call to tell me about how watching a serial killer dismember other serial killers makes you wanna polish off a second plate of ribs, or did you actually need something?"

She giggled a moment, but then got back to the matter at hand. "No, I was calling to see how you were. Y'know, that whole song and dance…"

He smiled vaguely, but felt guilty. He didn't want to lie to her, but that was exactly what he was going to do.

"I'm fine, Rose. You don't need to worry about me," You have enough to worry about…

"You sound a little…" She paused, trying to find a delicate way to put it. "Y'know, like you're thinking of going down the street instead of across it." Well… delicate for her.

He sighed. "It's not like that."

It kind of was.

"Anything I missed?"

He looked down at the letter. "Nope, just still a little shaken from last night, that's all."

"Y'know, if you want me to, I can come over…"

Part of him really wanted the company, but the other part of him didn't want to drag her in any deeper than she was. "I'm fine, Rose. I'm still trying to figure shit out."

"I know," she replied. "I just know how hard it is when the very thing that emptied you is out there and you know it."

She may have been young, but she knew a lot about betrayal, abuse, and heartbreak. Though in Dick's case, heartbreak wasn't at all the right term. It was more like having his heart cut out.

"Do you think if I confronted her," Dick asked cautiously, "it would be a bad idea?"

There was a pause from Rose's end, and he could hear her breath hitch slightly. "No," she finally began, "I think if that's what you need to do, then you should do it." There was conviction in her voice. She understood all too well. "But Dick…"

"Yeah."

"If you do, just know that it will probably end badly. You never really know what you're capable of when someone who's hurt you that deeply is standing right there in front of you… You might not even know what she's capable of."

She wasn't wrong. Dick could think of one particular moment where he'd come dangerously close to bludgeoning Catalina to death. His outburst frightened him. He'd never before been that angry or volatile, and the fact was, in that moment, he wanted kill her.

Maybe I shouldn't go…

"But I understand that maybe you need to face her, let her see what she did to you. Let her know what will happen if she ever tries to do that to you again…"

He took a deep breath, he'd never really gotten the closure he needed. He was too wrapped up in everything else. Not to mention, part of him was still in denial, trying forget it ever happened. But it didn't matter how many times he told himself it was a simple "misunderstanding," or how many times he tried to chalk it up to guilt, it still happened, and it happened to him.

"So what do you have on the agenda tonight?"

He could hear Rose click her tongue, and she replied, "I was gonna polish off a third plate of ribs," she joked, "but if you have a suggestion, I might be down…"

"I was thinking of getting a drink… "

A few more hours had passed. Dick had gotten dressed and finally left his apartment, which took more effort than he liked to admit. However, it helped to know that he wasn't going into this situation blindly or alone.

The rain from the night before had dissipated, the air cool as the wind blew over his shoulder. The street was unusually quiet for once. It was peaceful, but unnerving, much like the past year. Hopefully that meant something—something good.

Each step took a little more persuasion than the last, each muscle recalling the touch of her cold hands, the stink of the rain and emptiness that followed all of it. The only thing that drove him was the notion that this might lead to the end. That whatever followed tonight was for the better. He just hoped, silently prayed it was true.

He finally approached the bar, and that uncomfortable feeling grew tighter in chest. It reminded him of how he felt after he'd lost his parents. The loss and uncertainty colliding together like the harsh winds and rains of a hurricane, leaving a lifetime of devastation in its wake.

He paused when he got to the door. Part of him wanted to turn away and just forget about the whole thing. However, he wasn't sure what would happen in the fallout if he did. He took another deep breath, and pulled the door open. The bar wasn't overly crowded, unlike the night before. The table by the window was open, and he sat himself down like he'd never left. He looked around, trying to get a better sense of his surroundings. Rose was already sitting in the back corner, polishing off what looked like a Mai Ti, the poor guy next to her probably striking out. She glanced over at Dick with a sly grin, and bit into the cherry left in the boozy remnants of her drink.

Yeah, the poor bastard's not getting very far with her.

Dick looked around. Catalina was nowhere to be found, and part of him hoped it would stay that way. But he knew he wouldn't be so lucky, she'd show eventually, and if she didn't, he didn't even want know what would happen then.

A period of ten, then twenty minutes went by. Rose was already finishing her second drink and chewing through her second guy, while Dick hadn't even taken a sip of his beer. He heard the door open and he looked up, a cold wash of fear running straight through his veins. She looked over at him and smiled, disturbingly, as if nothing were amiss. Like she couldn't even see that he was practically crawling out of his skin.

She went straight to the bar, happily flirting with the bartender who remembered her. He fixed her a glass of red wine and poured a few fingers of whisky. The whole time Dick glared at her, noticing her lip color was the same, her frame now covered in a form fitted black coat. He heard his phone vibrate, and quickly checked it.

Rose: Something tells me Tits has your whole funeral planned out on Pinterest.

He shook his head and replied: Seriously, she looks like she's dressed for the occasion too!

"What's so funny?" he heard, and looked up. There she was.

She set down her wine and pulled out her chair, placing the whisky in front of Dick.

"I thought you could use this," she said, pulling off her coat and sitting down.

"I think I'm good," Dick replied, pushing it away. "I remember the last time I accepted a drink from you."

She was still wearing black, this dress being a little different from the last, but cut just as low and shamefully short. Once again, she looked like some rich trophy wife burying the husband she killed.

"So you do blame me for that ?"

"You got me shit-faced and tried to make me marry you," Dick scowled, "how is that not your fault?"

Catalina smiled as if nothing were wrong. "I didn't come here to argue, Mi Amor, I—"

"DON'T, call me that ," Dick snapped angrily.

She glared at him, nearly speechless. "I've always called you that—"

"Well, I don't want you to," Dick growled. "I never did."

"Like I said," Catalina continued cautiously, "I didn't come here to argue, I came here to talk."

"You have five minutes and that's all you're getting from me."

She lifted her wine and fraughtly sipped it. "So I see you're still upset with me."

"You could call it that, yeah."

"I thought giving you time would help, I guess I was wrong." She peered down at the drink she'd bought him, still untouched. "You're really not gonna drink that?"

"No," Dick replied coldly, "I don't want anything from you."

She looked back at him, insulted. "I didn't know what I was doing then, okay? I was just as lost as you were."

"Really, because it felt like you were leading the way. Leading me right off a damn cliff."

"Because you let me," she asserted. "You did the moment you got out of my way."

His stare hardened, and for a moment, he almost saw red. "You bitch," he hissed. "You still want me to believe that it was my fault . You still want me to feel guilty for what you did."

"I did what needed to be done." She lifted her glass again. "I did what you couldn't."

"Because it was wrong. "

"Sometimes a little wrong can serve a great right." She smiled at him, like she didn't feel anything. "I know you have a hard time seeing that, it's why I did what I did. So you didn't have to."

"So what, you want me to thank you?" Dick asked bitterly. "That's what you want, isn't it? Because if I thank you, then I own it, right?"

"No," she replied with a chill, and placed her glass on the table. "I wanna know it was worth it."

"I've given you enough, I'm not giving you that too."

"You really believe that?" she asked, wounded. "You haven't given me nearly what I've given you."

Dick laughed patronizingly. "You're a liar. The only thing you have ever done is take, Catalina. And I don't know what else you want from me, but I have nothing left for you to take."

Her face softened, but he wasn't sure why. "I don't know what you mean… but heartbreak can bring out the ugliness in all of us."

He thought he was going to lose it.

"Heartbreak?" he questioned. "Fucking heartbreak!"

"Keep your voice down, people can hear yo—"

"No, Cat," he declared, leering at her, "you didn't break my heart, you ATE it. That way I could never get it back!"

She grimaced. "I don't understand where this is coming from, Mi Amor. I would never intentionally hurt you like tha—"

His hand fell on the table with a slamming percussion. "Then why did you fucking rape me, Cat?" Dick hissed, so that only Catalina could hear him.

Her brow creased as she leaned in. "What the hell…" She was speechless, a little taken back. "What are you even talking about? I would never do such a thing to you..."

"The rooftop, Cat! What, you don't remember? Was me telling you not to touch me just a minor inconvenient detail to you?"

"We went over this," she reasoned, hushed, "you were in shock, you didn't know what you were saying—"

"Then why the hell would you think it'd be a good idea to fuck me then?"

"There is no need to be vulgar. I—"

"Vulgar," Dick laughed. "I'm sorry my choice of words is making you uncomfortable—I mean you raped me, so I guess I owe you some sense of decency, right?"

"Stop saying that—it didn't happen like that."

"Yes, it did," he insisted. "You fucking raped me and you do it every time you sit there and act as if you're entitled to a part of me—to a part of my life . Or when you act like it's me—like I'm the one with the problem!"

"Because all I've ever done is love you and you've given me nothing!" she spat, her face beaming red.

"So you fucking took it, you bitch," he seethed, his voice poisonous.

"You never appreciated anything I did for you," she hissed. "I almost spent my entire life behind bars for you!"

"For what you did, in my name," Dick corrected. "How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?"

"Loved," she replied with a warning, like it was some end all-be all. "I did it because I love you, because I saw how much you needed me, how much you needed me to do that for you . And you let me. Tell me that isn't love ."

He was honestly frightened. He could see that deep in her eyes she believed what she was saying. That she thought by killing Blockbuster, it would make him love her, but it didn't. It only pushed him away, and she couldn't let go of that.

"You need help."

"I need you," she countered. "I love you more than anything, and I can't live without you ."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Dick asked. "Because I'm not falling for it, not this time."

"So what? Blockbuster's death is a stain on your conscience, but my life, what—not so much?"

Dick looked away from her, he knew she would probably play this card. The truth was, he would care if she did something to hurt herself, especially to spite him—it terrified him, in fact. But if he played into it, she'd win, and he'd never be free of her.

"No, of course I'd care, but if you really loved me, you wouldn't leave me with that guilt. That would destroy me, and you know that. How is that love?"

He could see her blood practically boiling. He had her cornered logically, she wasn't getting out of this one.

Lucky for her, she didn't have to. The bartender approached them, standing behind Cat and looking at Dick as if he were the bad guy.

"If there's a problem here, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," he said, obviously addressing Dick.

He looked over to the man, he was just doing what he thought was right, rescuing the damsel. Dick would have done the same if he didn't know any better. But still, it made him sick that everyone would assume she was the victim—that she actually thought and acted like the victim.

Dick pushed out his chair when Catalina turned and raised her hand.

"There's no problem here," she said calmly, "this is just a simple misunderstanding ."

She looked over at Dick, she wanted him to agree. Only he wasn't interested in doing what she wanted—not anymore.

"It's okay," he said, letting his eyes drift down to Catalina, "I was getting ready to leave, anyway."

The Bartender looked over at Dick as though he were one lucky son of a bitch, and smiled at the Catalina. "Well if you need anything, just let me know."

Yeah, wait till she bites your apple, hero, Dick thought a little bitterly as the man walked back over to the bar, his eyes still trained on Dick like a hawk.

Dick began to rise from the table, but the black widow protested. "We're not done here."

Dick looked back at her warningly. "I am."

She sneered from across the table and stood up as if to block his exit.

"Well I'm not."

Dick looked back at her, a little intimidated, not so much for the fact that she was standing in his way, but for the fact that if he even touched her he'd probably get his ass thrown in jail, and she knew that.

He peered over her shoulder to see Rose stand up, ready to kick "Tits" into next Tuesday if need be. Dick looked back at her, visually telling her to stand down. He couldn't allow her to take the fall for him—as much as she wanted to.

Catalina noticed his line of sight and looked behind her, a thick scowl casting over any beauty left on her face. She trained her sight back on Dick, the scowl taking on a mocking expression.

"What? Not man enough to face me without your little pet ? Nice, Dick."

Like she had any right to talk about pride or strength. She didn't know the first thing about being strong or brave. He needed to let her know that.

"You're the one who's jealous of a 17-year-old girl, but if you really must know, she replaced you, and she's ten times the hero you could ever dream of being, Catalina. You'll never be anything to anyone."

Out of anything he said, that seemed to hit her the hardest, but he wasn't sure why. Was it because he'd replaced her, or was it because he valued the replacement more than her? Or was it because he took away her validation as a hero?

She looked down bitterly, and made a fist. "Fine," she growled, "if that's how you feel, fine! But this isn't over…"

He didn't like the way she said that, but regardless, he let her continue.

"…Not by a long shot," she continued harshly. "So when you're done playing with little girls , I'll be waiting."

She leaned in as if she were going to kiss him, his lips hardened and cold, but she only smiled mockingly, hoping whatever stains she'd left on his soul would fester one last time. She placed her fist in his hand, her smirk deepening, feeling him writhe at the contact, but he still held his ground. He felt a small piece of paper fall into his palm and she closed his fist around it, holding her hands around his. He knew she was aware that he could do nothing, that's why she was doing it. He leered at her with a burning hatred, but that was all he could do. For now.

"Until then, Mi Amor."

He watched her walk out the door, the bartender still glaring at him. He wanted him out, and Dick was happy to oblige.

Rose finally moved from her corner, trying to mask the fact she was nervous for him, but covered it smugly.

"Ready to go?" she asked, and he nodded.

Within moments, the two were nearly out the door, but not before one last outburst.

"Wait," the frat boy who'd bought Rose a few drinks said, "you're going home with him? He didn't even buy you a drink!"

Rose looked back at the guy like he were wearing a helmet or something. "Yeah, last time I checked, buying a girl a few drinks was about as binding as a pinky swear. Stop acting like you bought me a lobster."

Dick shrugged at the guy, as did the bartender. Yeah, it sucked, but hey, home girl owed him nothing.

"Ready to go, Rose?"

"Like a prom dress."

And with a roll of the bartender's eye, they left.

They walked outside, the wind blowing a little harsher now. The sky above was clear, the stars managing to shine over the cityscape despite its dull radiance lifting into the air.

Dick admittedly felt a little freer, like some of the weight he'd been shouldering was alleviated, the space in his chest aching less. He'd said everything he needed to say to her, even if she wouldn't own up to any of it. He wasn't stupid, he knew she'd never acknowledge her wrongdoings, but it would have helped if she had. He may have even held some hope for her, but he knew now he should have never placed such a fragile thing in her hands to begin with.

"So was it worth it?" Rose finally asked, uncertainty bleeding from her eye.

Dick took a breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm not fixed, but I'm better. And that's a good start."

Rose smiled weakly at him, she knew what it was like to feel that way. Just always short of whole.

"Yeah, it gets better with time."

Dick shuddered at the thought. Time was something that had become unbearable to him, to think it could actually help mend his wounds, seemed a little deceptive.

"I hope you're right." He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder blade, guiding her down the street. "Thanks again. I don't know if I could have faced her without someone I trusted to back me up."

Rose smiled coyly. "You trust me?"

"Yeah," Dick said, and looked at her oddly. "I wouldn't have pushed for you to be a Titan if I didn't. What makes you think I don't?"

Her eyes fell on the ground. "Cause no one really does. Eddie did, but he's gone now. You just never really said it, so… I don't know—I guess I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't…"

He stopped and turned to face her. "Trust is something that you shouldn't have to say out loud, Rose, it's just something you feel. I trust you because at the end of the day you wear your heart on your sleeve and you don't bullshit anyone. I know you think you're not a good person, but you are, and deep down, you just want people to see that. You're a hero because you want to be a better person, and when you help people, you do it because it's right, not because you're looking for a favor, or to be favored."

"That's because you haven't received my bill yet, Grayson. You've racked up quite the tab, too," she joked, trying to get the focus off of her. "I'm kidding, by the way."

"I know. Humor is how you deal with crazy shit, it's that or anger. I'm glad you're turning to the former."

"I learned that from you," she said softly. "I saw how much you were hurting, yet you still found a way to make light of everything. I thought I'd give it a try."

"I'm glad you did."

They reached her Harley and she turned to her mentor with a sentimental half-smile. "Well, it's been real, but like every great adventure, my time here has come to an end."

"Yeah, I'm really gonna miss you. I'm shocked you haven't made a sexual innuendo all night."

"Well, it didn't seem appropriate given the circumstances, but, I found out the age of consent is 16 in the state of New Jersey… So y'know, if you wanna make out with me before I ride off into the horizon, I'd be cool with that."

Dick smiled and shook his head. "I'm aware what the legal age of consent is, and no, no offense."

"You and your morality, Grayson," she said, picking up her helmet. "Maybe I'll have more luck with your brother."

"My brother?"

"You know, the guy with the red helmet, what's his name?"

"Oh… Jason," Dick said, less than enthused, "he comes with a lot of baggage."

"And you don't?"

"Touché."

"Well, I'm gonna head off now," Rose laughed. "No more psycho stalkers, okay?"

"I'll do my best," he said with a smile. "No more letting creepy guys buy you drinks."

"I let you buy me drinks."

He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Please take care of yourself, Rose."

She looked up at him and nodded. "I will, I promise… Deathwing."

"Okay, now get the hell out of my city and stop calling me that."

As he watched her go, he realized he finally understood. Understood why Catalina, a self-centered, ego-driven narcissist wanted to be a hero. It had nothing to do with helping humanity, or even making one life better. She had no need for that, it was all about power. Everything she did, every move she made was self-serving or a display of dominance. Killing Blockbuster, that was simply her playing God, forcing herself on Dick; that was taking what she wanted, but couldn't have, and she'd just reminded him of that. She couldn't leave him until she'd had the last word, till she'd sunk her fangs in him one last time to poison him. She just had to take away his power. Well, not anymore. If she wanted to act like an insect, he'd just have to crush her like one.

She waited, a glass of wine in her hand. She took as sip and looked down at her phone, recollecting the call she'd received. She was a bit shaken when she heard his voice, her heart teetering on its tipping point. He told her he was too rash, that he let his anger get the better of him, but he was ready to talk now. Ready to hear what she had to say. That he couldn't wait. She'd smiled at that, she knew he'd come around, he always did.

Without a second thought, she gave him her address and invited him over, telling him she would make it all better and left him with that.

She took another sip, her anticipation pumping through her veins, the heat of the wine mingling with her blood. She'd been waiting an hour, though it felt like a decade, but that hour was nothing compared to the lifetime she'd spent waiting for him.

A knock rapped at the door, and her heart skipped a beat. Her breath hitched and she placed her glass down on the table and went to the door, taking a moment to check her makeup and fix her dress. She composed herself, taking a moment to quell her near giddiness. She finally opened the door, doing her best to display her most convincing bedroom eyes and found him in their fabled stare.

"Mi Tesoro," she said, sickeningly sweet, "I knew you'd come."

He smiled at her subtly. "You gonna invite me in?"

"Oh, of course, Mi Amor," she said huskily, "you're always welcome."

She shifted out of his way and he stepped inside. He took a quick look around. Her apartment wasn't big, but none of them were in that neighborhood. He should know—it was his neighborhood, after all.

"So tell me, darling," she began, closing the door, the faint click of the lock following, "why the sudden change of heart?"

He looked over at her and shrugged nonchalantly. "You were right, I was just upset. I wasn't being fair to you… I'm sorry ."

She smiled, flashing a hint of victory. "I forgive you," she said, walking toward her prize. "Now why don't you let me heal you, Mi Amor." She placed her hands on his chest, a sinful look in her eye. "I promise, baby, I'm gonna take good care of you now."

He brought his hands to her face and smiled, cradling it as she closed her eyes, leaning in to seal her prey's fate. Only Dick had other plans.

His hand slid to the back of her neck and his face hardened to stone. His grip on her became cold and tight as he suddenly conjured an unnecessary amount of strength. Channeling every ounce of hatred, every violation, and every last bit of fear he held for her. He threw her, face first, into the high table beside them. She collided with the object with a violent force, the tempered glass surface cracking, and her wine glass shattering as it hit the the tile. She collapsed to the floor, blood pouring from her nose and into her mouth. She lifted her head, her body still in shock, as a rough hand tangled itself in her hair and pulled her motionless body around to face him.

He knelt down, hovering over her with an infuriated look in his eyes. She tried to look away from him, but he gripped her jaw and forced her to stare in his direction. She was going to hear this, whether she wanted to or not.

"If you so much as cast a shadow in my fucking direction, I will finish this job," he growled in a low voice. "As far as I'm concerned, you're dead to me, Catalina—and I never wanna see your fucking face again! Got it?!"

She whimpered a little and nodded, but refused to cry in front of him, as though she could keep some sense of dignity if she didn't.

"Bitch," he huffed in her face, a faint spray of saliva hitting her cheek with a hateful breath.

He released her heartlessly and got up, storming out of her apartment as quickly as he'd struck her. She heard the door slam shut, cutting the last tie left between them. She flinched at the sound, like it hurt, and began to cry. She was finally afraid of him; she didn't have any power left to play. She had lost him, for good this time.

Dick threw on his hood, stepping out onto the street and into the cool night air. The wind had subsided and for the first time in a year, he felt his stomach calm. He didn't feel the need to look over his shoulder anymore. The bleeding in his chest had finally quelled.

He couldn't change what had happened to him, and he couldn't change what happened in the wake of it all. But he could change who he became as a result of it all. He knew he wouldn't be cured overnight, but he knew, in time, he'd be fine again. He could move on now. He could finally breach the surface and breathe—he could live. And for that, he could find enough strength to embrace the tomorrows and move out of the yesterdays.

The air somehow smelled sweeter—cleaner, even. Like the smoke had lifted, and the fires burned out, no longer hindering his senses. He could see beyond the rubble to a path beyond the ruins. He took a deep breath, taking the cold air in like it was the first time he'd ever done so.

Clarity, he thought, feeling the ground beneath his feet again, the world indeed still there. He wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't waiting for some unspeakable thing to pull him into its undertaking. No. For the first time in so long, he was free of her. Free from her hold and presence, and more importantly, free of her memory.

He couldn't taste her anymore.

[krysalla-archive]

cicatrix

relationship: dick grayson x reader word count: 787 warnings: mentions of blood summary: cic·a·trix. /ˈsikəˌtriks/. noun. the scar of a healed wound. It's hard not to worry about Dick Grayson. He has a dangerous job. And too many times has he gotten hurt, but you'll always be around to count his scars.

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His heart beats like a drum when you lay your hand over his chest. The once smooth flesh is now littered with scars; it’s nearly impossible to lay your hand against his skin and not feel the raised flesh that have gone almost red. Most have faded, from when he was young and reckless, from his early days of being Robin. Those ones are smaller, not so serious as the ones that are newly healed.

Dick’s breathing hitches when your fingers trace over a knitting of skin that runs from his left shoulder blade down to the front of his right hip. He nearly died receiving this one.

Each one is a testament to just how dangerous his job is. Sometimes, in the dead of night, when you curl against him, you whisper to him, that he’s damn near invincible. Heroes never die, they are never hurt. That’s what you know, what you knew when you were young. But now that you’re older, it simply isn’t true. And it’s made even more real, that no one can live forever, when Dick comes back, bloody and broken from fights in the dead of night.

You heart shudders at the thought of waiting for him all night, only to wake up to the news saying that the infamous Nightwing had died in some battle, taken by surprise by some fool with a gun.

You remember the call for this scar. Your nails scrape gently across the tight skin of his belly. There had been a panicked voice on the other line, telling you to come to some sleazy joint in the middle of downtown Gotham.

That was the first time you’d met his father.

There were others there, packed in the small room, and you vaguely knew of some of them. Donna was really the only one you knew. She was the first person Dick introduced you to. You, in some pit of your own jealousy and insecurity, had thought they had been an item- maybe even still one with how they interacted, until you had seen her with a woman- an alien- beautiful beyond all means, looking at her with stars in her eyes, looking at her with love.

Leslie had ordered everyone out of the room, doing what she could with what she had, after all it was a clinic she ran, not a hospital. Bruce and you had been allowed to stay. You helped where you could while Bruce sat, holding his son’s hand and pressing his forehead against the top of it.

He had lost one son before, he couldn’t go through that again. Dick barely talked about the boy who died too young, too tragically.

You never wanted to know what exactly had happened, but when Leslie peeled back a damp cloth laid against his abdomen, you nearly vomited on the spot.

Thirteen hours, five phone calls and one off the books surgeon who asked no questions about the man who was laid out, nearly eviscerated on his operating table, with a recognizable suit cut up and tossed on the ground.

His blood stained your hands like your favorite lipstick against the collar of his one nice dress shirt. You hadn’t been able to wash it off in one try.

He presses a kiss to your temple, pulling you out of your thoughts- he’s always been good at that- knowing when you needed to come back, that you shouldn’t be left to think so hard and so long, that nothing good could come of it, having seen, first hand, the doubt and worry, the anxiety and headrush it causes you. Dick smiles gently, his index finger curled beneath your chin and tilts your head up.

“You need to stop admiring the art. Even I need to sleep.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to sleep.”

“That’s selfish,” Dick presses his forehead against yours. He smiles when he hears the soft breath you exhale, your shoulders going slack and leaning into his body, “Maybe, I want to sleep.” His breath is warm against your cheek, and you squirm at the feeling, nose scrunched up and fingertips dig into his skin. Your fingers trace across his shoulder blade, the bump of his scar, although a painful memory of how he gained it, it calms you, because he’s here. He’s still here with you.

“You know,” you open your eyes, finding the bright blue ones that had enraptured your attention since the first time you had spotted him, “I don’t think you would mind too much.”

He scoffs and shakes his head slightly, only earning him your nose rubbing against his, but maybe he wanted that. He’s always been so affectionate, “That’s not true.”

“Prove it.”

“I will.”

[juminsswife]

Some simple RFA headcanons

Jumin: -loves when his s/o wears red lipstick-not nearly as kinky as people think he is -has no idea what curly fries are -fave animal after cats are fish, which is why he has them in his house -when he’s super stressed you may catch him standing there staring at the fish with a dead look in his eyes -knows the sesame street theme song by heart (this one is kinda canon lol) -was deathly afraid of the character big bird as a toddler and would cry when he saw him, but grew out of it quickly -got teary eyed at mc and V’s wedding -once asked jaehee to bring him a popular flavor of donut so he could try it. when she put the glazed donut in his hand, he stared at it for about 20 seconds as it started to melt on his fingers before looking up at her and saying blankly, “It’s gross.” -but he secretly ate it later anyway out of pure curiosity  -doesn’t care much for TV but has somehow seen the fullmetal alchemist series and he actually really enjoyed it, but nobody knows this -Was once offered a laffy taffy at work, to which he replied, “No thank you. I must not laugh at work.” -he said this with an impassive face in attempt to make a joke. -it did not make his employee laugh. -likes pizza but has only tried the fancy, healthy gourmet version his chef makes for him -gets along surprisingly well with young children

Zen: -Loves playing with his s/o’s hair idly. like he’ll be turning a random lock of her hair in his fingers when they’re next to each other even though his own hair is long enough to do that  -is used to getting compliments so they don’t surprise him EXCEPT when his s/o compliments him, it still makes him blush because he knows she’s not saying it to suck up to him, it’s an honest compliment -has never been to the beach or seen the ocean in real life, but he thinks it would be a really romantic setting for a date -cried when his first child was born -is okay at cooking but TERRIBLE at baking even in a toaster oven he somehow always burns it -last one in the RFA to get married -he describes his eye color as “bright ruby” -loves watching plays as much as he loves acting in them, and has written drafts of plays of various genres and themes -loves Mexican food -has been cutting his own hair for 4 years now to save money -a big fan of Beyonce  -has seen Phantom of the Opera 7 times already and owns it on VHS

Jihyun: -can’t sleep in complete darkness, so he actually uses a night light -he used to visit the aquarium with jumin when they were kids -not too keen on PDA but he does have a habit of kissing mc’s hand in public and often holds her hand -doesn’t care for horror movies, but they don’t scare him either -loves rock music, and piano paired with electric guitar -is terrible at playing instruments -doesn’t like bell peppers -eats cheerios bc he thinks they really do help with cholesterol  -its really difficult to make him angry, and when he does get angry it can be hard to tell because his face will be really calm and he still might even be smiling -jumps a lil when he hears someone curse in public (LOL) -loves the desert and uses it as inspiration for his paintings a lot -can speak the most english out of everyone in the RFA except for Saeyoung, who knows 18 languages -was never called by his name (Jihyun) by anyone except MC, including Rika. -doesn’t know much about memes but he likes Kermit the frog -grows a lot of flowers, herb, and vegetables in a backyard garden, where he spends a lot of time in with a giant sun hat like a really cute old man -has that super beautiful, charming Chris Traeger-esque smile that can convince anyone to say agree with him, but this doesn’t work on the RFA since all the talking is done in chatrooms or the phone and they know him too well

Saeyoung: -scared of butterflies -Elizabeth 3rd actually REALLY likes him and Jumin lowkey hates it so much -tried to hold a seance for the internet famous cat Tama, a calico cat who worked as a station master at the Kishi station railroad in Japan before passing away -really good at diy, he and mc do a lot of random and possibly crazy science experiments in their house  -once pranked mc by acting upset and then telling her he was pregnant and she was the father, mc actually believed him for a solid 9 seconds -current password for his front door has to be spoken in an accent like Shrek -can dance perfectly the entire song “Catallena” by orange caramel -he and mc rarely fight but when they do disagree on something he’ll talk to her in another language just to get on her nerves. it makes her laugh but also stuns her bc it reminds her of how freaking smart he is bc he knows 18 diff languages -on the other hand when she’s mad at him she won’t call him Saeyoung, she’ll call him Luciel, and on the rare occasion where she’s really pissed at him, “Seven Zero Seven.” -Loves the song Rocketman by Elton John -forgets to take down holiday/seasonal decorations for months after the holiday has passed

Yoosung: -is actually really good at coming up with lyrics on the spot and rapping them to a beat -has a really tiny sneeze -has the prettiest eyes in the RFA -quit LOLOL for the most part, only plays it here and there when he has free time now -likes kpop, specifically 2ne1, and was disappointed when they were disbanded -he forgets that he’s not naturally blonde a lot -loves couple items and having matching clothes/items with his s/o. he really wants to do a whole matching coord one day -Took full responsibility for Rika after she was finally placed in a center to take care of her mental health, is really supportive and visits her whenever he can so she knows she’s not alone -somehow always manages to win at carnival games no matter how rigged they appear to be -Favorite superhero is Nightwing -wants to buy his s/o an engagement ring from Tiffany and Co. and is saving money for it -wanted to be a pilot as a child but gave up that dream when he was older because he was afraid of heights -has written a 42 chapter long fanfiction based on the world of LOLOL. His penname is not his real name, so no one knows he wrote it except for Seven, who never mentioned it out of kindness. The fanfic has over 2000 reviews and is known famously in the LOLOL fanbase for how well it was written -can’t handle the taste of coffee no matter how sweetened it is, it always still tastes bitter to him

Jaehee: -loves sushi -sometimes forgets that she doesn’t actually need glasses to see -the walls of her house are covered in post-it notes with reminders of stuff she needs to do, whether its for work or for personal -likes growing her hair out but it gets tangled really easily and has to be combed through at least once every day so she’s always cutting it a bit here and there -designed the uniform for her cafe herself -has low blood pressure -owns a lot of watches bc people constantly gift them to her -wears really low heel shoes bc she’s terrible at walking in them -Has a habit of sticking her pens behind her ear and then forgetting they’re there -doesn’t like pet names -Was never really good at art or very creative as a child and it effected her self-esteem -can’t draw anything more complicated than stick figures, but somehow is pretty good at latte art -the number one thing on her wish list is an ebook reader, and to have enough free time to read a book on it -played the flute well in high school but never really liked it -has seven alarms set up in her phone that go off everyday for different reasons -is the most fearless at catching bugs or spiders than anyone else in the RFA -doesn’t have a pet bc she’s afraid she wouldn’t have the time to care properly for it, but if she could have one she would like a snake, turtle or small reptile

[tessatechaitea]

Detective Comics #951

The Terrible At Putting Lipstick On Gang is back in Gotham!

After discussing MAN pLaNeT, a tumblr account that began following me, this happened:

Is this a joke? Sometimes (most of the time? Perhaps all of the time?), I fucking hate the Internet.

This issue begins with Shiva torturing a man. It happened three months ago, so the guy is probably already dead. But he's not dead due to Shiva killing him! Oh no! She's a lot like Batman in that she's never killed anybody.

See? They all die from natural causes. Usually blood loss. Never mind the cause of the blood loss, nosy.

Once Shiva realizes the Colony no longer operates in Gotham City (thanks to The Batman and his obsessive need to control everything in the city), she decides it's time for the League of Shadows to move into Gotham. The League of Shadows are a secret organization that everybody thinks is an urban legend. James Tynion IV got the idea for them when Scott Snyder told him his idea about the Court of Owls. James Tynion IV was all, "Oh, um, yeah! I had the same idea! But instead of the Court of Owls, they were the League of Assassins!" And Scott was all, "That is already a thing." And James said, "What did you hear? I said League of Shadows! Duh!" Three months later in Gotham, Batman admits that if he had to fight Cassie Cain, he'd lose. That's because Batman talks too much. He's practically riffing like Nightwing when he battles compared to Cassie's focus. Also, she's apparently better at all manner of fisticuffs than everybody else in the world. Except maybe for Azrael after he's sublimated masturbating by praying to God. Batman has been working with corrupt Mayor Hady to make Gotham a better city. Mayor Hady turned over a new leaf. That means he realized he could make more money being honest than corrupt. But apparently it was too late because he's now been pinned to a wall by Shiva. She made sure to use swords with hilts that look like bats and then to alert the police so that Batman would be framed for the murder. James Tynion IV got that idea by reading every single comic book that's ever been published ever. Oh no! The good guy has been found near a dead body. He must have done it even though he's never killed anybody before ever! Although the cops thought he did about fifteen thousand times, it always turned out he was innocent. But this time, the cops are all, "We knew it! The Batman finally killed somebody! For real this time, probably! Let's kill him with our guns!"

I guess Batman only wears his Kevlar suit on days ending in "Bane."

Batman goes to see Jacob Kane in Guanotanamo Bay to find out what's going on. Jacob is all, "The League of Shadows! The League of Shadows!" And Batman is all, "Oh stop it. We already had one secret organization that nobody believed was real which turned out to be real. What are the odds there's another one?!" Batman shuffles away from Jacob Kane muttering, "Who's the World's Greatest Detective anyway? I am, dammit! I'd totally know if there was this thing called the League of Shadows. I'd be all up inside that thing! If it existed, it would be purchasing Plan B pills right now because I was so far up inside it! Fucking Jacob Kane. Thinks I'm fucking Honey Wheeler or some shit. I'm Goddamned Trixie Belden, bitch!" He's interrupted by Batwing who has some news footage to show him. A couple of newscasters were interrupted discussing local nonsense and Internet videos that went viral two weeks ago by Joker toxin. They laughed themselves to death and everybody applauded when they realized those puffed up arrogant newscasters who thought they were local hot shit celebrities were dead. It looks like The Joker but Batwoman cautions Batman. This is just what her father said the League of Shadows would do! Cause chaos in the most obvious way possible! Next, they'll probably go around asking people stupid riddles!

"Not to mention readers wouldn't stand for such an obvious retelling of the Court of Owls story!"

The Bat Gang hear about a riot in Neal Adams Park where a lot of people are laughing and punching each other. They head out to help the victims but when they get there, they realize the rioters are just pretending! They pull weapons and attack the Bat Gang. If the League of Shadows wants to remain anonymous, this seems like a weird way to go about it. This is exactly what a League of Shadows would do! Batman is totally going to believe the myth now. The Ranking! -1! Mostly it drops in the rankings because this story was called "Unleashed." I think I've discussed — many, many times! — how much I hate comic books using that word. Along with all of the other derivative and cliché bits in this story, it warrants a drop in the ranks.

[sexstoriesforinstantboner]

Nightwing/Poison Ivy

N = Nightwing

Ivy = Poison Ivy

(Sooo I accidentally lost the first part of this rp. Sorry.)

Ivy: I audibly huff and dramatically roll my eyes, "Well look at that. You finally learned how to shoot strait. I should get you a medal or something". I quickly wrap vines around your ankles and wrists, tying them behind your back. I slowly step forward until my plump lips are only centimeters from your ear. My hands caressing your ripped chest as I whisper, "what do you say we take this fight somewhere more... Secluded. I'd love to show you a few of my new tricks"

N: I grimace, struggling to no avail against your vines. Your curious hands feeling my rippling muscles flexing and contracting. I let out a groan of exhaustion as I try to catch my breath. “What do you want Ivy?” I ask, furrowing my brow doubtfully. “Why don’t you just kill me now? That’s what you want isn’t it?”

Ivy: "Aw, c'mon Nightwing, you know I like to play with my food before I finish it. You never learn do you?". I lean in for a light kiss on the cheek, my red lipstick leaving a faint imprint. Your eyes begin to flutter closed as my fiery hair and emerald eyes blur in and out of your vision. Effects of the small dose of poison setting in. "Don't worry hun, it's not enough to hurt you. Now you be a good little boy and take a nap. I promise to give you a treat when you wake up..."

As you fade back into consciousness you feel tight restraints around each of your wrist holding you to what feels like a cold concrete wall. Your feet, while firmly on the ground, are also in restraints. It's dark in the room from the thick black blindfold over your eyes, but you hear the clicking of my heels coming toward you. "Ah, goodmorning sunshine! I believe I had promised you a treat. Are you willing to accept?"

N: My head darts around the room frantically, as my hands clench into fists. I pull as hard as I can against them, but to no effect.“What do you want from me Ivy?” I grit my teeth, “you’ll regret leaving me alive for too long.” I snarl, still feeling weak from the poison. My muscles visibly flexing and tightening in my tight suit.

Ivy: I grin at your obvious struggle, enjoying how helpless you are despite your magnificent strength and power. "Let me make my intentions perfectly clear. I'm going to take your blindfold off only for a moment. You are not allowed to say a single word. If you do, there WILL be consequences". My fingers caress your lush hair as I fiddle with the knot and slip off your blindfold. I take a step back, putting my pointer finger up to my mouth, indicating you to keep quiet. I begin running my eyes up and down your toned muscles, taking my time as I eye fuck the hell out of you. I make sure to hover over the important bits before fixing my gaze directly on your confused puppy dog eyes. I flash you a wicked smile as I begin to pull my skin tight body suit off of my huge perky tits. They slightly jiggle as they settle into their natural placement on my chest. The only covering is two small ivy leaves just large enough to cover my obviously hard nipples. Inching the suit down my tiny waist, I slowly turn on my heels and bend over slightly to give you a complete veiw of my ass as my skimpy clothes fall to the floor. Revealing a tiny leafy thong only covering my crotch. I walk back to you and rest my oversized tits on your constricted pecks as I put your blind fold back on. "Tell me Nightwing. Are you going to be a good boy and listen to me or am I going to have to punish you?"

N: I clench for a second, my face turning notably red under the blindfold. I open my mouth, getting ready to say something, but I bite down hard on my lip. You feel my heartbeat accelerating from the sensation of your tits pressed against me. I try to shift nervously, and blurt through gritted teeth, “what are you playing at Ivy?”

Ivy: I gently cup your face with my left hand and lovingly rub your temple, still fully pressed up against you, "It should come as no surprise to you that we've been trying to dominate each other for years. This little game of tag has me bored. Its time we own up to how we really feel about each other. You've been quite tempting in that tight suit of yours and I've been imaging us in situations like this for years. Don't tell me you're backing down from a challenge. It's not like you to be so intimidated". My hand trails down your torso in swirls giving your nipple a quick rub before reaching your growing bulge. I stroke it fondly, not to aggressively, just enough to tease you

N: My legs tighten up, shaking in your vines as I wince. My bulge eagerly growing from your soft touch, throbbing in my suit. My breathing becomes shaky, my arms still pulling at your vines desperately. “I-Ivy... I...”

Ivy: "Shhh". I place my pointer finger over your quivering lips, "Don't struggle sweetheart. Let me do the talking". Suddenly, I let go of your hardening cock and step back, licking my lips seductively at the sight of you. "First, I have been dying to rip that suit off you all night. You might wanna hold your breath. This will sting a little". I summon a rose bush near by to my hand, the stems coiling around themselves forming a tight handle-like shape that easily fits in my hand. Once the handle has formed, three long stems come shooting out from the base, adorned in medium sized thorns sharp enough to leave a mark. I grip it in my hand and firmly crack my newly made whip on the concrete floor as a warning shot. I notice you visibly jump at the loud ricochet sound, the sweat on your brow dripping. I take a heavy step towards you with my clicking heels, increasing the anticipation. Then another. And another. Untill... CRACK! the razor sharp thorns tear three huge rips into the torso of your outfit, exposing your glistening pecks and chaotically panting chest. I made sure not to draw blood, only light pink welts begining to form. "Now tell me, do you want more or are you going to beg for mercy? Now will be your only chance"

N: I gulp, slowing my breath, “You don’t scare me.”

Ivy: "Hmm, I knew breaking you wouldn't be easy. Lets see how long you can keep this up". Without warning I give you a swift whip to your right arm. Then your left arm, and one down each leg. I analyze the state of your body and decide I've given you enough punishments for now. I drop my torture device and walk up to you again. I breathe heavily over the marks I've given you, my moist breath causing the pain to increase ever so slightly. "You've been such a good boy, Nightwing. I hope you know you are mine now. And I don't claim just anybody". I remove the remaining shreds of clothing, planting kisses along each pink flesh wound as I went along. I stared in awe at your naked body, the evident muscle and powerful build. Most importantly, your huge throbbing cock dripping with precum standing erect, waiting for me to please it. I lift your chin up and plant a romantically passionate kiss on your lips (without the lipstick this time), I enjoy the sensation of exploring your mouth, feeling your tongue play a game of tag with my own. Eventually I let go of you and bend down to my knees, smirking at you, only inches away from your obviously frustrated cock. I flick my tongue over your juices, lapping up your delicious precum and playing with it in my mouth. The taste of you turns me on even more as I suck on your tip. Swirling my tongue around your huge throbbing cock, my plump lips can barely get around your enormous girth. I let go just for second to add, "I give you permission to face fuck me. I can be your toy too". I resume my previous position and slam my mouth as hard as physically possible against your massive cock. Your tip grazing the back of my throat with every single thrust

N: I buck my hips as much as I can, moaning softly under my breath, my cheeks a flush shade of red as I take guilty pleasure in your warm wet mouth. Beads of sweat start to form on my body, slowly rolling down my toned muscles. The irresistibly sweet taste of your tongue still covering mine. I clench my fists, in complete disbelief that poison ivy is throating my cock.

Ivy: My ears perk up at the scattered words escaping your mouth. "Slow down?", I think to myself... "Hell no. Not my forte". I pick up the speed and make slurping sounds as I suck back and forth, lavishing in the glory of your massive cock in my mouth. I feel you clench against the vines still restraining you against the wall and I wonder if we should take this somewhere a little more... accessible from all angles. I firmly pin your hips against the wall. Stopping my movements all together and staring into your confused eyes. "Nightwing? Would you do me favor? If I untie you, will you fuck my tiny ass hole until I can't feel anything anymore? I need you inside me. Right now"

N: My body trembles, my heartbeat synchronizing with the uncontrollable throbbing of my dripping cock. I swallow hard, my entire body feels like it’s on fire. I nod slowly, forcing my muscles to relax as much as I can make them. I breathe heavily, those words ringing through my head nonstop. Fucking Poison Ivy? I-In her... ass? Right here? The thought was almost too much to bear. I-I need to.. I want to. I have to. The words manage to escape my lips, “yes, i need you. I need you right here and now.”

Ivy: I see the gears moving in your head, contemplating the question I had asked you. I bite hard on my lip, pleading within myself that I had done this right. That you'd want me as much as I have wanted you. I sigh in relief when I hear you say yes. Despite my current dominatrix behavior, my eyes light up like a little kid. I hurriedly wisk away the sturdy vines holding you down and slip your blind fold off. I take your wrists and kiss them where pale pink rope burns had begun to form. "Now it's your turn, hot shot. Bend me in any shape or form you please. I'm all yours" flashing you a quick wink

N: Before you finish the sentence, you’re on the floor, lying on your back. You didn’t even feel your feet leave the ground. Your arms are firmly pinned above your head with my steel grip. Plant a multitude of kisses on your neck and chest, slowly tracing my tongue down to one of your nipples. I sink my teeth into it, biting and suckling on it while you nearly melt under my grip. The tip of my cock rests directly on your clit, throbbing and rubbing as I thoroughly tease your breasts. “How do you like it?” I taunt, gyrating my hips. Not giving you a chance to answer, I reach to my belt, then grab your ankles. I push your legs up, pressing them into the ground behind your head. As you begin to get fed up with being moved, you realize, that youre no longer able to. 3 jet black gadgets restrain each of your limbs to the concrete. I run my hands down your thighs, my fingers dancing across your ass cheeks, before giving them a swift spank

Ivy: I yelp from the sudden movments and before I realize whats happened I'm already tethered to the floor. My face morphs from utter confusion into complete amazement. "Hm, I'm impressed, I guess old dogs can learn new tricks" I stick my tongue out at you in a taunting fashion. I am suddenly aware of the pressure of your tip pressing into my already wet clit. I struggle to gain some friction to no avail. I find myself panting and tensing up in complete need of your cock inside me. "Nuh-nuh-nightwing? Pl-please?... Please fuck me"

N: I thrust, pretending to miss, as my cock slides against you repeatedly. I smirk at you, blushing, “must have been the poison..” I tease you. I push my tip into your pussy, forcing it as deep as I can. The heat and tightness from your pussy causes my legs to tremble slightly. I start to pound rhythmically, overwhelming you with the sensation of my massive throbbing cock stretching your pussy. I tilt my head back, moaning loudly as I increase my speed. Beads of sweat flying into the air from the sheer force of our fucking. The primal desire and the strength of our bodies combining to make some incredibly passionate sweaty sex.

Ivy: I still manage to roll my eyes at you while feeling the pleasure of your entire length rubbing against me. My tight hole constricts around your huge cock, I feel myself being stretched to capacity as your warm pulsating cock slams into me. Shivers run up and down my body from head to toe. Your cock penetrating the deepest parts me combined with your scent drives me crazy. I start panting and moaning as the speed increases. Desperately gasping in air in between breathes from the sheer force of our deep fucking

N: I bottom out, thrusting in balls deep, as I stop to catch my breath. I press a button on my wrist, releasing all of your restraints at once. I pull my cock out from your pussy as I stop to look at your face, red, sweaty, and contorted with pleasure. “Well, they don’t call me Dick for nothing.” I purr as I climb on top of you. I grab the back of your neck, playing with your hair as I bring my lips right in front of yours, “don’t poison me this time..” I blurt out before interlocking lips with you. The taste of your shaky breath, and your warm sloppy tongue drives me nearly mad. I grip my shaft, redirecting the tip to press firmly against your twitching asshole. I pull my mouth away, looking into your eyes, with a soft expression you’ve seen only once before. I deeply blush again, going in for another kiss.

Ivy: I can't help but smile into each of our kisses, unable to hide how undeniably cute I think you are. I notice your soft features and warm eyes staring into me and I know I will never forget this. The way you look at me like I might actually mean something to you. Your cheeks flush a shade of pink and I can't help but reciprocate the gesture and lightly tug at my own lip. We resume our passionate kiss in a failed attempt to hide what had happened. Your hard cock finds its way to my pleading ass hole and with a renewed vigor to please you, I simply ease out of the kiss, find your eyes and give you a tired smile with a slight but avid nod. Politely asking for what we've both been wanting this whole time

N: I slowly, but firmly push my cock in, penetrating your painfully tight ass. I bite my lip hard, pushing it in deep, so my sweaty balls press against you. I let out a whimper as you tighten your ass for a moment, your hole begging, milking my cock. I give a deep sigh, steadily picking up the pace as my heavy cum filled balls slap against you. I stare into your piercing emerald eyes, completely enthralled, but not from one of your tricks. The warmth and sweat from both of our bodies churns into a horny musk of vigorous sweaty anal pumping. The ecstasy taking over my body as I no longer have control over my pounding. Faster and faster my cock plunges in. Tighter and tighter your sweaty hole massages it. My eyes flutter between yours, and your lips. Enticing me for another sloppy tongue sucking kiss.

Ivy: Fuck, I'm gunna cum. My ass whimpers as you enter me. Stretching the walls of my hole as far as physically possible. Your massiveness fills every little crevice inside of me. I practice squeezing my ass even harder every beat you pull out, trying to milk you dry. Our bodies a hot mess of primal instinct and all-consuming lust. I grab both sides of your face with my free hands and pull you into me, passionately kissing you with the last ounce of brain power I have left. My tongue sloppily swimming through your mouth, our body liquids mixing, and limbs slamming into each others as if we were made for this

N: I groan, my cock throbbing faster than before, my muscular arms shaking as I wrap them around you. I focus on your delicious taste, whimpering into your mouth as your ass takes the last of my stamina. I pump my cock in one last time, letting out a long moan as my tongue plays with yours. My balls tighten up as I clench my entire body, constricting you with immense force as you feel my cock erupt. Stream after stream of thick hot jizz sprays from my swollen tip into your tight hot ass. Load upon load fills you to the brim, leaving you with the warm sensation of my cock pulsing, pumping you full of my love. I pull my lips away so we can both breathe. I collapse on you, my face on your neck, and my cock still leaking cum deep inside you. “I-Ivy... I missed you.” I say exhaustedly, smiling and giving your neck a long smooch.