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soulmate-game · 3 years ago

Note

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #bio!mom Wonder Woman #Bio!mom Diana prince #bio!dad Bruce Wayne #Bio!dad Batman #idk what this is #but it happened #and it’s something

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sexcbatman · 2 years ago

Text

title cigarettes out the window P1 ( P2 )

pairing : jason todd x latino! male reader

summary : jason needed a drink of something strong and boy did he get something that intoxicated him.

warnings : mentions of alcohol, cigarettes, and skin picking ( anxiety )

authors note: its so bad but wtv. also didnt check for grammar so if theres mistakes im sorry, its two am.

Cheeks painted red his fingers couldn't help but twitch as his throat clogged up. Double checking himself with his phone camera he frowned. Why the actual fuck was his hair not working the day he needed it to work. He was due for what he felt like was a date in the next 3 minutes and fuck was he so nervous. You probably didn't even consider it such but Jason did.

After-all, Jason would grasp onto your 'friendly' gestures and treated it like you were absolutely infatuated with him. It was devastating and delusional, due to the fact you were probably straight. Jason was supposed to be straight, thats at least what he thought. Till he came to a realization a week ago that he sure was fucking not.

Straight people don't fantasize about holding hands and whispering poems softly into the ears of there new a-claimed friends. Every-time he read a romance novel he'd often find himself comparing you to the male lead and him to the female lead. Hell he was even looking to find novels with great gay love stories to fantasize and analyze too.

Pawing at his hair as he lost himself in his thoughts he came to realize he was slightly late. Letting out a distrained sigh, his inner corner of his brows rose with stress. He hasn't been this nervous since him and his ex- Artemis got serious.

Adjusting his shirt, he tried his best to look decent. Mostly everything in his closet was either joggers and plain shirts. Except the tailored suits for gala's, but he wasn't gonna wear a full blown suit to a simple 'date' to the mall. You had invited him to come with you to eat and then go around the mall to look for a shirt due to the fact you had a family reunion thing out of town sometime this week.

Putting his big boy pants on his headed into the mall and headed towards the food court. Looking for a place to sit he spotted a two chaired table and took a seat.

You were about 4 minutes late, feet tapping Jason picked at the skin outside of his nail while anxiety filled his chest. Lips pursing he felt like he had the biggest bitch face on.

Once those 4 minutes turned into 30 he felt like he was gonna cry or probably go be rude to bruce to cope with the fact he was probably stood up.

Sighing heavily he felt dumb, you didn't care for him much so it didn't matter to you. To him though he felt so disappointed like he always did. You were his first guy crush and you grabbed that shit by the throat. Shook it around and spit on it.

“Shit, sorry for being like so late.” Your voice entered his ears causing him to pick deeper into his skin.

“it's whatever, don't care much.” letting out a dry chuckle Jason shrugged and stood up taller in his seat.

“You sure ? You look fucking pissed man.. well I mean — that is understandable literally wasted 30 something minutes of your time but I have an excuse.” chuckling nervously you slid into the seat in-front of him.

“Yeah no duh and it better be a good reason.”

“Man you're literally acting like you're my boyfriend or something.” joking around you pressed your keys on the table and let out a airy laugh. “so basically I accidentally hit this guys rim while reversing, he got pissed and I had to like give him my info. Should've just drove away, its Gotham afterall. No one give's a shit about the tiny stuff.”

“Yeah you should've drove off.” ignoring the boyfriend comment he tapped his aching fingers ignoring the way it was throbbing.

“Anyways, what do you wanna eat? They have Chick-fil-a, Chinese, Mexican, burgers, hot wings and omg Korean hot dogs.” grabbing Jasons hand you stared down at his fingers and frowned softly.

“I'll pay for everything so don't worry bro.” lifting his fingertips up to your mouth you pecked them softly.

Brows furrowing inward deeper Jason tore his hand away, now you just had to be messing with him. How could you do such an intimate gesture than call him bro.

“Can I get a burger with a water, and thanks.” brushing his fingers over the hand you kissed his eyes flicked to your face.

You looked embarrassed, eye lashes blinking rapidly he saw you swallow thickly but recover your fallen expression with a smile.

Getting up from your spot you grabbed slid your keys across the table for Jason to hold than proceeded to walk off.

You felt like shit, you were definitely gonna have a slight dent in your wallet from that rim and Jason was mad at you. Maybe he was annoyed by how touchy you were or the way your voice sounded.

Twisting the rings on your finger you sighed and made it to the burger stand. Ordering Jasons usual burger combo and your own you gave your name then slid your card.

You really cared for Jason and didn't want him to leave. You adored him, platonically of course. Thats at least what you thought but you were honestly questioning because he's all you can think about sometimes.

During your day and work all you can wonder is what he's doing at that moment. You also got really fuzzy while thinking of BESTIE scenarios with him. Wait let's back track because this definitely sounds like a crush.

Holy fuck you liked Jason.

Mouth agape you finally made it to the table, eyes staring at a pretty green eyed male on his phone who was twirling your car keys with his fingers. You shook your head but not in disbelief. You could honestly see why you liked him, he was really your type.

From the personality to his little quirks, “Im back jacey wacey.”

Corners of his lip quirking the white streaked male met eyes with you, “Jacey wacey?”

“Thats your new nickname.” giving a wink you blew a kiss that caused him to advert his eyes. Shit maybe you just made him uncomfortable.

“Hey can I ask you something.” placing his phone down along with your car keys on the table he kept eye contact.

“Go ahead, shoot it at me.”

“Are you like into — um guys? I have this friend and he thinks your like cute.” biting into his lip he looked anywhere but you whilst he spoke.

“Yes.I think? I would kiss a guy and date one, so I guess that makes me into them.”

Jason felt his heart genuinely drop to his asshole, trying to control his glee he smiled. “Cool, cool.”

“Does this friend happen to be you?” asking the question you scooted your seat next to his and peered at him closer.

“Yeah, it's me. I think you're cute, adorable, geeky,cute and sexy all the great combinations.” Grabbing his boldness from the closet, he leaned in close and smirked.

Pressing your lips into Jasons, you felt your heart twist and jump with glee in every muscle of your body. Hand grasping at the back of your neck jason went in for a deeper kiss.

Staying there for what felt like eternity you pulled away realizing you guys were in public.

“The spring sun shows me your shadow,the spring wind bears me your breath.” brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear Jason inhaled softly, “You are mine for a passing moment but I am yours to the death.”

“someones down bad already.” leaning into the back of your seat you wiggled your brows.

“It's rosamund marriot watson.” voice soft Jason shrugged,“What do you mean? I literally despise you for playing with my feelings.”

“ok, play with deez nutz instead?”

#jason todd x male reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #latino reader #batfam #x reader #male reader #sexcbatman

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battymommastuff · 3 years ago

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False Reality 1.

Batmom x DC Universe

Prompt: Let's Imagine Batmom is the DC Comics version of Scarlet witch. Let's imagine she lost her entire family to Darkseid. Let's imagine she creates a world of her own to escape from the truth...

John Constantine groans softly when he heard a loud knocking coming from his door. How did anyone find him here? He got up letting out a string of curses.

"What the bloody hell do you want?!?" He yells as he opens the door coming face to face with Zatanna, and Fate. He raised a brow while trying to fight his hangover and search for his cigarettes.

"John, something's happened. Noir has taken a town, I don't know how to explain it. We need your help. She's stronger that us, but with you we could have a chance."

John popped his head out from under his bed with a cigarette in his mouth then lit it, "Noir was one of the most powerful witches I've ever seen. She made Klarion run home to his mummy...you really think I'm going to challenge her. Not likely." He chuckles at the end then started sliding on his coat.

"Do not forget your promise to Batman." Dr. Fate said as he grabbed the Hellblazer's shoulder. John gritted his teeth then glared at Fate.

"We're not going to survive this. Promise me you'll take care of her."

"Yeah yeah I remember that night. Fine, show me to the Noir Witch."

Outside Gotham

John stepped through the portal with Fate, and Zatanna. He saw the surviving members of the Justice League all standing around a table. Raven was the first person to notice the returning members.

"John? You actually came." She said surprised then nudged Wonder Woman who nodded to him.

"So's what's gone on with Hocus?" John asks as he looks down at the table.

"See for yourself." Superman says then the table begins to glow. It showed images that managed to capture of the Noir Witch and her family. John tilted his head then looked to the pulsing field. He walked to the edge of it then reached his hand out for it only for a lasso to wrap around his wrist jerking it back slightly.

"Bad idea John. Whoever goes into it is trapped by it. We've lost several people already."

"The bat is gonna kill me." John mumbles then puts out his cigarette. He didn't keep his promise like he should have. Instead of being there for her when she found out her family was killed by Darkseid, he just left her to cope on her own. Of course this would have been what happened! He failed Batman, and most importantly he failed you.

"Is there anyway we can send her a message? Get her to come out and talk?" He asked looking to the League. Everyone went quiet until the President came up to them. He'd been listening to the conversation, and decided to add his input.

"A missile! Blow her right out of there!" He says frantic while running a hand through his hair. The entire league glared at him while John took a step forward.

"Mate, this is her world she created. The people in there are real people. Not just some illusion. Wait..." He trailed off then walked back to the table where he started looking through the images again. His eyes lit up when he spotted a certain raven haired boy.

"Is Damian Wayne in there?" He asked at everyone. Wonder Woman nodded then showed the last video caught of the two. It showed you with your youngest son driving towards the town you were currently at, "It's him. We can get the message to him." He thought for a moment then pulled out a pamphlet from his pocket. He grinned then held it up.

"Every child loves a vacation." He walked to the edge again then set the pamphlet on fire before mumbling a spell. The hex opened and the ball of fire went through before it closed again.

It moved through the small world then slowly turned back into a pamphlet before landing on the nightstand of Damian who was currently practicing his fighting moves. He frowned when he saw the paper.

A vacation? To Fiji? He love it there! He quickly took the pamphlet and ran downstairs to his parents who were sitting on the couch watching television.

"Ummi, Father? I would like to go to Fiji." He says then hands them the pamphlet. Bruce raised a brow then smiled slightly looking through it. You on the other hand felt rage bubbling in your chest. How dare they?!? Without a word you took the pamphlet and looked through it. A hint of cigarette smoked filled your senses and a smirk formed on your face.

"I will be right back my loves." You say then blow a kiss to your husband and son. Damian frowns looking to his father who shrugged before going back to watching the tv with a smile on his face. Damian tilted his head seeing the smile. Something felt...wrong.

Outside of the hex everyone watched as you left your home. Eventually the hex opened and you stepped through very pissed.

"Hocus! Good to see you love!" John exclaimed then made his way over to you. He gave you a hug which you didn't return then patted your head," Would you be ever so kind and release this town?" He asked.

Your jaw clenches before you grab him by his neck and force him down. He clutches onto your wrist while looking at you with wide eyes," I will tell you this once more. Stay away from my home." You threaten then dropped John to the ground. You turned, walking back into your hex.

"Well...choking doesn't feel so fun anymore. Does anyone have a cigarette?"

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quillsareswords · 3 years ago

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1:20

Damian Wayne x reader

SUMMARY: You're lucky you've memorized Robin's schedule: it might me the only saving grace you've got left.

WARNINGS: blood, near-death

Master List in bio

It's 1:20 on a Tuesday morning in early June.

Gotham never really gets hot, but the humidity suffocates anything that might think that's a relief. You didn't check the weather this evening. You probably should have.

It's 1:20 on a Tuesday morning. He's gonna be here. You've had mixed feelings about knowing his schedule this well in the past, but now it's the deciding factor of your fate.

It's 1:20. That means you've been bleeding like a stuck pig for ten straight minutes, even if it feels like it's been hours. Or seconds. You don't really know anymore. You're getting dizzy.

So you've leaned against the wall. Some little roof access point that stands tall above the gravel covering the rooftop. The brick digs into your shoulder, even through your jacket.

You're starting to think you've gotten it wrong. Or maybe he just didn't show today. Maybe you're out of luck this time.

It was dumb. Stupid to think that you could stop this. Stupid to think you would end any way other than alone.

It was on purpose, after all. Isolation, that is. You pushed and shoved everyone away with a friendly smile and kept them at arm's length, lest they wiggle their claws beneath your mask and expose you for every ugly thing you are.

You're a mole. An informant. Someone who plays every side all at once and somehow manages to stay neutral the whole time. You've been passing tips to the Bats for months now, means be damned. Trust was meager between you, but what little there is is mutual.

You'd hoped it'd be your saving grace. Hoped the side playing would leave you with at least one friend, even though it was the entire reason you're in this position in the first place. You had hoped your downfall would save you.

He appears before you two minutes late. 1:22 in the morning and he's late. He doesn't seem to have noticed you, a few feet away, surveying the street below him like it's his job (and it is), with his back to you.

"You're late, Birdy." Your voice comes quieter and rougher than it should, and the force it takes nearly sends you to the ground.

He spins around at the sound, hand already curled around the hilt of his sword by the time he faces you. He says your name lowly, like a warning, like always. His posture relaxes nonetheless. "You come with useful advice, I expect. The skirmish by the docks sounded quick, but Batman thinks–"

"I didn't know where else to go," you say suddenly, because you already know you aren't going to be conscious long enough for this conversation.

The effort gets you this time. Your knees, shaky as they've been, finally give out. You understand, and you forgive them; they carried you all the way here, after all. Your body turns on the way down, back of your jacket scraping terribly against the brick as your heels slide through the gravel. The noise you make is somewhere between a groan and a cry.

It rips the breath out of his lungs. Your name is in his mouth again as he drops to his knees beside you, gloved hands already pawing at the hand you have clamped around the knife still sheathed into your side.

"What happened?" he demands, and he's reaching for his pager with the other hand. "Who did this?"

You're too focused on the way your first name sounds in his voice. There's something nice about the way he spaces the syllables.

He says it again, all panic and worry, like he hasn't the time to mask it anymore.

You wonder for a moment if it has anything to do with his lingering stares and gruff get home safe's.

But then he's shaking your shoulder and you're wincing because it's bruised beneath the jacket.

"Stay awake, hey, stay with me. Batman is on his way. We'll fix this." There's a pause where he's sucking in a deep breath and you're trying to focus on his voice. "You're going to be fine."

You think it's a little funny. You managed to get all the way here, up a goddamn fire escape, but the moment you think he's got you, you lose all ability to keep yourself upright. You just want to sleep. You want to lay down and take a nice, long nap.

You hate to admit that it just might be because you trust him more than anyone else you know. You've only known him for a few months, but you're sure that you're safest with him. You're safe with him.

It shouldn't be much of a comfort, with Death staring you down like a lion on it's last meal. You won't need protecting if your decline doesn't level out soon. It's surprising what such little comfort feels like when you're staring Death down like a gazelle with an attitude problem.

You don't remember being moved. Or how you ended up in a medical bed with stiff, scratchy sheets and a nearly flat pillow. You do remember hearing Damian's voice, fading in and our with your consciousness. The words are all garbled and quiet, but you know the recall the sound.

Alfred is the first person you see. He's unfamiliar, but he introduces himself and offers you a warm smile and a glass of water. He brings you a bowl of soup and hands you a bottle of painkillers and another of antibiotics.

You fall asleep again, listening to some little body of water just outside the white room you're settled in.

When you wake up, it's to the sound of an argument. Batman and Robin. It's hushed, angry and patient whispers back and forth, but it's an argument all the same. You've heard them bicker enough over the last few months to recognize it.

You can't quite make it out. You hear your name a few times, something about time, something about healing, something about help. Batman finishes it.

Robin swings the squeaky door open a few moments later.

He stops halfway into the room when he sees you're awake.

You wiggle your way up the mattress to lean against the pillows behind you. "Birdy."

He sighs. "You nearly bleed out in my arms and that's how you greet me?"

He doesn't sound quite right. A little deflated, maybe. Relieved? As if he'd been holding his breath before he entered the room, and just remembered how to breathe when he caught your eye.

Course, you can't be sure he caught it at all, with those white lenses.

You cock a shoulder. "I'm sure you've seen worse. I'm sure I'll have worse."

His posture shifts as he crosses the room. He shakes his head. "That's not funny."

"It's kind of funny," you try, throwing the best carefree smile you can manage when everything beneath your skin is so sore. "I'm the one who was bleeding, that means I'm allowed to make all the jokes I want."

"That's an unhealthy coping mechanism."

"So is dressing up in red and yellow and calling yourself a bird."

His shoulders drop again. You think you might see a smile, but he turns his head away too quickly. "You should be more careful. I can't always be there to drag you out of every fire, you know."

You cross your arms, raising both knees to take some pressure off of your abdomen. He takes it as an invitation and makes himself comfortable in the chair beside the bed. He finds a comfortable position with a little too much familiarity. "I don't expect you to. I wouldn't have even been there if I wasn't getting information for you."

"For Batman–"

"Potato, pa-tot-oh."

He goes rigid again. "I never would have asked you to put yourself in danger like that."

It's defensive. Appalled, almost. Offended.

You don't know how to reply. That doesn't seem to matter though, because he's not done.

"And even if I had, I would have gone with you. I would have made sure you had backup, I would have– this never would have happened."

There's a certain distain in his tone that catches you off guard. A resentment, toward you or his partner you aren't totally sure.

He runs gloved fingers through slick black hair. Heaves a breath. Pushes himself to his feet. Falsely composed. "You may stay as long as you need. Alfred will take care of you."

"Where are you going?" It slips out before you can stop it. And perhaps you could play if off as a standard question—you are in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, aside from him—but it's much too quick. It sounds a little too much like don't leave me.

And you know he hears it too, because he turns back around so quickly you wonder if he even considered it. "Patrol. It's Wednesday night." And yet he makes to move to leave.

You nod. "Right. Yeah. You're, uh, what? You're over by the city museum tonight, aren't you?" You want to smack yourself. What are you doing, making small talk? He's got places to be, people to save.

"Yes." The top seal of his mask flexes when he raises an eyebrow.

You nod again. An awkward smile on your lips. "I, uh, I didn't know how to feel about knowing where you'd be most of the week, but I guess I'm glad I do. Saved my skin last night, didn't it?"

He drawls in a deep breath. "Suppose it did."

There's a long pause. You aren't sure if you're breathing, but you're sure he isn't. He looks tense, like he's torn between saying something and leaving, body angled not quite toward you.

"You can always come to me," he says suddenly. He must read something on your face, because he tumbles straight into the next sentence. "Last night, you said you didn't know who to go to. I'm telling you now, you can always come to me. I'll fix it, whatever it is."

His voice is tight. A little unsure, but not in the statement. Like a hiker on a rocky trail; unsure of his footing, but certain in his destination.

There's something else in his words. Something scrawled between the lines in thin, fragile letters. Something deeper than wounds and needing backup.

I'll fix it, whatever it is.

Your heart rate picks up, and the heart monitor reveals your secrets on the screen beside you. What it can't reveal is the way the poor organ soars, throwing itself to the clouds with reckless abandon, completely uncaring of the hard trip back down.

You still don't know how to reply. You'd like to say something witty. A little sarcastic, maybe a smidge mean. He's giving you a glimpse at his heart, beating bloody in his hands, and there's a large part of you that wants to poke it. Nothing too wounding, just enough that he never makes the mistake again.

But you can't help it. There's a much larger part of you that wails, who wants to snatch it from him to shield and cradle, because he obviously can't be trusted with it. Not if he's baring it to you.

The deciding party is the reminder of last night. Dragging yourself up a rusted fire escape, praying to anyone who might listen that he'd be there. That he'd help you. You remember thinking he wouldn't. You remember the thought hanging above you like gravediggers as you settled into a coffin: you pushed everyone away, you don't leave room for those who want to help you.

"Thank you," you attempt, and it comes barely above a whisper. You allow it to be tender. You let it embody the raw little piece of you that utters it; the piece that wants so desperately to let him in. The piece that knew he'd save you. The tender little sliver of soul who still believed you deserved to be trusted and supported. The one who still hopes for meaningful connections, even among your collection of throw-away contacts.

You can see the way he relaxes. The way he melts inside his skin, like he'd been expecting you to poke when you could have. Like it lifts a weight off of him, knowing that you'll trust him enough to come to him in the future.

"I'll be back in a few hours. You should sleep."

You roll your eyes. "Sleep in some weird ass white room I've never been in, surrounded by a bunch if people I barely know. Yeah, I'm sure I'll sleep like a baby."

He recognizes that you aren't entirely serious, but he also recognizes the orange pill bottles on the table beside you. "If Alfred has you on those, I trust you will—no matter where you are."

You chuckle, he offers you the tiniest smile, and then he's gone. Vanished into the rest of whatever strange building he whisked you into.

You should be worried about it. Not knowing where you are, exactly who you're with, who has access to you. But you aren't. And it might be the medication making you compliant, and you'll look back on this in a week and be horrified—or it could be that you've broken all your own rules and thrust all if your trust into the hands of a boy you've never seen without a mask.

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader

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roguestorm · 3 years ago

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I'm not a Jason fan, but I do think the whole point of post-Resurrection Jason is that he does let his anger define him. And Red Lanterns (at least the N52 conception of it) is about acknowledging that anger and how it defines you but using it for a purpose. A Red Lantern Jason story would have him holding tightly to that anger but would also have him using his anger as a guide to give him purpose. (As opposed to RHatO, which is spectacularly directionless and devoid of purpose.)

Side note: I also think that putting Jason in space and out of Gotham is a really good idea because Red Hood is conceived as a Batman antagonist and there's only so far he can move in the antihero space if he's continually up against Batman, especially since when you start like thinking about Batman and Red Hood and their positions critically the whole comic book genre starts falling down around your ears. Jason can't be a Batman character forever; it just isn't sustainable.

But, back to the main point, if you want Jason to examine his anger and his reliance on it and how that may in the long run lead to burnout or lead to him not being able to experience more positive emotions, a Red Lantern story is a great way to do that! You have two or three arcs of Jason using his anger for righteous purposes, and then you start bringing in the question of whether or not it's right and wise for him to have this ring that basically equates rage with power. Does that mean that in his moments of peace, when he's not angry, he's less powerful? Does this encourage him to lean into his anger to the detriment of his mental health? When you run off anger - and you hang with a whole Corps of people who also run off anger - what does that do to your ability to form relationships with people outside that circle? Anger is so central to Jason's character that you're never gonna be able to cut it out completely (and it would be silly to try, as that's one of the things that makes him a distinct character), and if you want to talk about that or reframe it, a story that's very much about anger from the beginning is the way to do it.

I think Jason's anger is very clearly a coping mechanism for the trauma he went through (Lazarus-induced insane rage do not interact), and I think that, in parts, that anger is justified. Villains should not brutally and violently beat children to death for their own amusement, and anger about that can be productive. Anger at injustice generally is something we see in a lot of superheroes, even ones who are very solidly "good" - look at Spider-Man. It's okay to want Jason to be more than his anger, to be recognized as a full character, but ignoring the way his anger has shaped his story for the last fifteen years is only going to result in inconsistent and incoherent characterization. If you want a more fully developed character for Jason, you can't write off that anger. The only way out is through.

#m.txt #I think about Jason entirely too much #Jason Todd #batfam blogging #this is 500 words. if i'd spent this time and energy on my essay i'd be 500 words closer to done right now.

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thr-333 · 4 years ago

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Could you possibly do one where Mari/Mari and marine is/are the daughter/son of the joker?

I actually planned quite a lot for this after you asked but could never get my thoughts to make something comprehensive so I give up here's what I got!:

-Twins are Joker and Harleys kids born before the two split up(and so help me they will split up this story needs gay aunt Ivy)

-As you might know, these two clowns have another kid; Lucy. Harley left Lucy with her sister when she was born. In canon, she thinks Harley is her aunt but I would say in this fic she learned the truth when the twins were also dropped off.

-So the twins grew up in Gotham with their aunt and big sister knowing full well who their parents are; as such they make the responsible choice to suppress every part of themselves that resembles them and constantly dye their hair in an effort to avoid looking like them. You know healthy coping mechanisms. -

-Naturally, Marinette has brown hair with blue eyes and Marion blonde with brown eyes.

-Their personalities are a bit different from Mismatch.

-Marion is still a trickster and a trouble maker but this time around has Marinette fully involved and responsible for his shenanigans. He has a bit of a habit of talking to himself(or singing random phrases), sometimes in the third person; he hates when he does, so Marinette always tells him off. He’s always gets the impulse of dying his hair outlandish colors and will vehemently deny his favorite color is green.

- Marinette is crafty, both figuratively and literally. She’s smart, her mother is a doctor after all she can be manipulative to people that arent her(close) family to protect the ones she cares about. She has a deep-seated fear of becoming a trophy, an object to be put on display like her mother and so dresses the opposite and pushes away her love for fashion.

-They will always call each other Mari but if someone else tries they both answer its a nickname they strictly use for each other.

-In a world where Gotham exists it makes absolutely no sense that Gabriel wouldn't start his reign as Hawkmoth in Gotham(the place with the most negative emotions like geez) so that works out perfectly for the twins becoming heroes(Adrien can move to Gotham or be left in Paris to be kept safe your choice)

-Instead of the twins proving themselves by helping an old man up off the street they go a step further is beating up the thugs that try to rob him(all Fu’s set up of course). When they come home to find two mysterious boxes on their beds they make the only rational conclusion children of the joker would; it’s a bomb!

-Not wanting to get the police involved for obvious reasons they find the security footage(which gets the police involved in a different way) and start tracking down fu to see why he’s trying to kill him.

-And as you may recall at this point in canon Ladybug and Chat Noir are defeating an Akuma, well they're not here they’re off to beat up an old man so thats Batman’s job for the time being.

-The twins get caught up in the fight as civilians and are saved by Batman who immediately recognizes them(you don't think Batman has case files on all of Jokers hellspawn?) so that’s gonna be a problem later but never mind that for now~

-The twins track down Fu, who is wondering why they aren’t out fighting the Akuma. Long story short Fu comes back to the house with them and proves they aren't bombs giving them the miraculous.

-I’m a bit indecisive on the names. I thought Marinette would be Red Bug and Marion Black Cat(yes I know that names already taken I don’t care). But I thought Crimson Bug would work better because then their names would start with the same letters. Then I wanted alliteration like Black Bug and Crimson Cat but that obviously doesn't make any sense since Chats color is green not red-- then I realized it would be completely in character for them to call themselves that confusing everyone in the process so no one quite sure whos name is who(if you wanna write it go with whatever I just thought it could be funny)

-As for costumes Marinette's probably wouldn't be skin tight because deep down she really doesn't want to look like that but more practical armor or less form-fitting at least. Marion's hair turns green when he transforms something he freaks out about and Marinette's turns red(glowing or not either would look cool)

-So anyway they go off to defeat the akuma blah blah blah Batman seeing these two young untrained superheroes can only think of one thing: I have to adopt them. So that’s gonna be fun!

-Anyway they go back home trying to be sneaky and immediately get caught by Lucy: ”Don’t tell Aunty!”-- ”Oh I already know” (her names Delia by the way)

- So now the twins get a support system and a family that will look out for them unbelievable right? This support system immediately threatens Fu making sure he actually trains them and doesn't just set them loose on Gotham.

Anyway that's the end of my semi-cohesive plan and here's a vague outline for the fic:

1. Becoming ladybug and chat noir setting up adoption, and school(Bruce invites them to Gotham academy to keep an eye on the jokers children)

2. First day at school setting up Artemis(and by extension young justice), and own passions, Adrien is also at this school now so Marinette falls, Jason finds out falling in love with Marion

3. Becoming friends with Artemis, convinces them to give their passions a try, Marion runs from hood, some let me adopt you stuff also Jason's spite for Cat Noir

4. Skip a bit of time a few months or so, young justice need help Artemis suggest mari and mari, Marinette has a smackdown with batman about their heritage, at odds with young justice Artemis comes to their defense. Young Justice have an ‘oh’ realization on the job when Marion sings a lullaby to a scared child, now the young justice form the mari and mari protection squad

5. Doing ladybug and cat stuff batman approaches them again this time luring them into adoption with a partnership on finding hawkmoth, Red Hood and cat fight. Marion comes back all huffy and there's a scene with Lucy this time comforting them, Marion goes out to get air runs into hood marion bristles stirring Jason to meet him as a civilian, class come to visit, at odds with lila

6. Doing well at school even made a few friends when the Paris class come to visit completely under lila’s control, lila tries to slander the twins for not worshiping her only to out herself when she tells everyone they laughed at her(the twins never laugh), Jason also drops by further discrediting her, lila tries to throw their heritage in their face but they get support openly working with heroes as civilians, this little section ends quite happily with them being sort of accepted at school and batman tolerating their existence for not attacking the person who tried to make their life miserable

7. Time skip few years out of high school now, ladybug and cat are working well with gothams vigilantes widely considered part of the batfam even if no one knows each other's identities. As mari and mari they are doing good work mainly outside of gotham. Marinette is starting a fashion boutique with a little financial help from Wayne enterprises she also does costume design for heroes and villains, villains mainly because she can't stand their current outfits. Marion quite likes his music but isn't sure how he will feel in the public eye is great friends with Jason and the skip picks up with them officially starting to go out identities unknown. They are still hesitant about their identities in civilian life Marinette starting her business under a false name and Marion cant start his because of his heritage. Jason officially has to admit they are going out to the family is met with grilling by aunt and sister, joy by harley once she tries giving them sex advice they leave, his brothers tease and both are tense about Bruces reaction but he begrudgingly accepts. Are out as ladybug and Cat still snippy with hood but it’s not as bad they are closing in on hawkmoth. Go to hang out with young justice as well they aren't well-liked in Gotham but they’re fine with that(not really)

8. NOW things can go to shit joker finally has enough of them deciding to get a hold of them but I think it should be as ladybug and chat revealing their identities to the world. The twins are terrified rightfully so. Get saved now it’s weird between hood and marion, marion feeling betrayed Jason knew who he was and knew who his father was but still decided to date him and he just can't understand why. Adrien was so scared for Marinette and now they both have to work out why. Gotham is at odds the heroes they admire are born from a villain they fear. Bats are a bit weird feeling like they were tricked while also kind of acknowledging the twins are good people

9. Harassed in their everyday life now the twins go to young justice where they get met with awe for being established independent heros, bats there are acting weird but the twins say something to shift perspective leaving to let them mull on it. Jason tries to apologise saying he doesn't see Marion like that blah blah Marion has a breakdown asking how he can be anything but a villain. Marinette's having whiplash going from loved to hated and still dealing with the trauma of seeing her father. They snap. In public a big ol scene and they get akumatised everyone sees it, it’s on tv. Hawkmoth comes out to get their miraculous the batfam can’t beat him. He’s monolouging probing at their deepest fears when they snap back to reality realizing none of it’s true every part of them has worked to be good people and they are they don't hand over their miraculous beating the akumatizaton and beating hawkmoth while akumatised.

10. They are released from the hospital a few days later, getting hesitant recognition on the streets. It's not thunderous applause but it is something. Their family comes to pick them up, Adrien is crying to Marinette about not scaring him like that(her family took him in when Gabriel was revealed). Marion gets picked up by Jason they patch things over. They get accepted into the batfam and work as ladybug and cat for everything. Marion decides to start playing music and Marinette reveals her face to her fashion brand.

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

I Will be Your Tim Drake for Tonight (1) (Jason Todd/ Reader)

Summary: Preferring to do anything but your physics project, you decide to accepts Tim’s proposal. It’s simple. He does your project, you try to figure out whether Jason Sionis is criminal. Easy, right?

masterlist

A/n: This takes place in a world where Jason is adopted by Black Mask. Inspired by Building Interest by Zoeleo.

The events and characterization in this story are very heavily based on Zoeleo's Long Term Investment series. It is fantastic and I really highly recommend all of her fics.

a/n: For clarification, Reader does have psychic powers but it only lets her sense people's emotions physically. No mind-reading. Her power is more like an overactive sense of empathy which may force her to dissociate into someone else.

There will be violence and mentions of alcoholism (used as coping mechanism for physical pain) and chronic pain.

As for the additional warning, an animal is harmed but it is barely described. I could not bring myself to actual describe it but the aftermath is described.

I also just converted this from an OC so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Without further a do:

Your skin itches as you make your way through the crowd. It wasn't the suit. After all, Alfred Pennyworth was incapable of doing wrong. It was the sea of hands patting your back, petting your head, and pinching your cheeks made every inch of skin want to slough off. Tim owed you. He owed you big time. Then again he's back at the manor tackling your physics project and making sure Gotham doesn't set itself on fire while Batman is on ‘vacation’.

You should be fine. It’s not like Brucie asked you to investigate a suspected criminal who also happens to be Roman Sionis’ heir. Nope, no pressure there. Thanks Bruce. You’re clad in blue contacts, a black wig, makeup, and a stolen suit. As safe as you felt in someone else's skin, you still felt like you were gonna fall over. Maybe it's because you were dumb enough not to bring your cane.

The room was dizzyingly full of people. Your mind goes haywire. Jumping from one mind to the next. Dipping into every emotion it could stick itself into. It was almost overwhelming enough for you to forget about the ache in your leg. You knew this night was gonna be far longer than you could stand. You needed a drink. Or 9.

"Hey, no drinking! You're underaged!" Dick nearly shrieked, plucking your fifth(?) flute of champagne. You wouldn't be in a few months. Really he was being quite unreasonable to the drunk person in front of him. Looking him dead in the eyes, you wave another server over and take 2 flutes of champagne. "I'm fine Dick. I've drunken harder stuff than this."

"No," Dick said firmly snatching the 2 flutes from your hand.

"Big bro pleeeaaasee" You drawl sweetly knowing Dick was a sucker for that move. Dick tries to look unmoved but you could see in the slump of his shoulders that he wanted to give in. "I'm having an episode," The word episode felt strange and wrong but there really was no other way to describe it. "and I don't have any painkillers on me." You added hastily.

"Fiiine-" Dick whines, resolve crumbling to dust. Handing back only one flute of champagne, he scolds: "Just don't get shit faced. We're here on a mission."

"Yes, motheeeer,"

Without missing a beat, you down it, feeling the tearing in your head beginning to fade.

"Jesus, calm down," Dick said taking the now empty flute from you.

You are less than surprised by the fact that he isn't fazed by being called mother at this point. It might just be the alcohol. The Powers might not understand the concept of fun but they sure do have taste in alcohol.

While Dick lectures you on safe alcohol consumption and Babs laughs unhelpfully, You feel the press of another person's mind. The other 2 seem to notice it too. Being pulled out of their reverie, they turn to greet them.

"Target at 2'oclock" Babs whispers but your mind had for some reason forgotten how English worked. Instead, it drifted to the simple mind coming closer to them. Almost too quickly, you dropped down to your knees. Your joints complained but you could feel your mind smooth as you placed a gentle hand on the dog's fur.

The dog whuffs with glee as if to say "Yes! There! Pat there!".

Absorbed in the dog's uncomplicated happiness, you began to piece yourself back together and the pain in your head receded.

" Who's a good girl? You are! You are!"

The dog yips happily. Its smooshed face pressing into your hand. You forget the party until-

Dick coughs clearing his throat, laughter bright in his blue eyes.

You, for the first time, notice the person beside the dog. It was their target, Jason Sionis, stretching out his hand to shake yours.

"Oh- Uh- it's just your dog- She's- Hi, I'm Tim Drake." you shoot up to shake his hand. You notice the patches of scabs and scars on his knuckles. You’re pretty sure Dick or Tim could give him a run for his money if they didn't have makeup on. Though that just might speak more to their-as Damian puts it- incompetence.

Your eyes flicker to Dick momentarily as he tries so hard not to laugh.

"Well, it was nice to make your acquaintance," Jason says flatly as he turns his attention to Dick and Babs for a more coherent discussion. You weren’t entirely certain that you offended him but you were probably close.

You want to say that it's his eyes that you notice first. They were a striking shade of ultramarine, a terrifying facsimile of the ocean. They made you shudder. You would have rather noticed how nicely he filled out his suit. The man was made of muscle under that well-tailored suit. You file the image for further appreciation later. But, unfortunately, you are far too accustomed to checking your brothers for wounds for your eyes to not immediately flicker towards the scar on his face. It takes everything in you not to stare at the scar cleaving down the flesh of his cheek rigging the right side of his face into a permanent grin. Thankfully, he leaves them saying something about having business somewhere else.

Sure, the guy falls into Gotham’s pattern of ruining your face and turning to a life of crime but so far he hasn’t really shown anything concrete. Plus, he’s really nice to his dog. No one that nice to a dog could possibly be the Red Death, Black Mask’s shiniest, and rumored to be his most brutal, new enforcer. Then again, your mother always did treat Anatoli like a king.

"Tim was right. You can act like him. You even got him shoving his own foot in his mouth down pat. Great job. " Dick chuckles patting you on the shoulder jostling you out of your thoughts.

You sigh. "The next time I go undercover I'm going alone. I don't even know why you're here."

"I think you've demonstrated why."

You- annoyed, embarrassed, and feeling the marching in your skull coming back- jab "Alright Fabio , you befriend Mr.Pretty boy-" .

"That's pretty mean eve-"

"I didn't mean it to be mean-"you honestly didn't but you were byelingual at this point. "-I think he's pretty. Scars are sexy and all of that carp. "

"I am very concerned."

"You should be. I'm out of booze and the dog just walked away. " you hissed rubbing the side of your head before stomping off to look for more drinks.

You feel your head jack rabbiting again. The staff had, as per some evil person's request (Likely Dick or maybe Babs), cut you off from the booze. You find yourself wandering around until your feet take you outside. The cool night air and the nearly freezing bricks sooth you warmed skin as you slide against it.

"What? Did you come out 'ere to watch my dog piss?" a slightly familiar baritone voice chuckled.

"As fun as that sounds, I just escaped Dick Grayson. I believe that, in itself, is reason enough to go outside and take in the 'fresh' Gotham night air. " you snark, looking up expecting him to grin at you but was greeted with a look of concern. You’ve seen it before. Your hand almost automatically makes its way to your nose. You felt a thick liquid brush against the pads of your fingers. If you looked at them, you’d likely see them covered in blood.

You shrug and brush your deep red sleeve against your face. You probably didn't get all of it based on the crooked grin on his face.

"Shit kid, they'll think I punched you." Jason chuckles good-naturedly. You know he's not nervous. He’s charming enough to talk his way out of it.

"Relax, Dick will likely say I deserved it if they do think you punched me but that is highly unlikely seeing these episodes are an open secret after I bled on Mrs. Yavorski's satin dress a few years ago. "

"Well, in that case, you want a smoke? Should take the edge off." Jason says it as a joke holding out a pack of cigarettes to you. Everyone knows Wayne kids are good kids.

You, feeling particularly cheeky, take the cigarette between his lip and take a long drag, inhaling and letting your eyes slide close.

He makes a quiet choking noise. Away from the sea of minds, you can feel his eyes on you. Wide and disbelieving. A cocktail of interest, embarrassment, excitement, and delight swirls in his mind. It might have been attraction or it might just have been amusement. You shouldn't be too surprised by the reaction. Tim is quite the knock out even when he looks dead on his feet. His confusion only lasts five seconds before you cough out "Christ, it's just as bad as Bruce said it was."

You hand him back the cigarette laughing and coughing into your sleeve.

"So, did your brother tell you to apologize?" He says, clearing his throat not really looking you in the eyes. You can still see the faint speck of color on his face.

"Well, he didn't say it. He doesn’t really have to and I do have manners contrary to popular belief. Plus! In my defense, your dog is cute. "

"Lizzie is, isn't she?" Jason smiles patting Lizzie on her head. It was a soft gesture. Something you really didn't expect from a supposedly hardened criminal let alone someone raised by Roman Sionis.

You crouch down to Lizzie's level and put your hands on the dog's face. Lizzie happily nuzzles into your hands.

"You have a dog?"

" Depends, does Dick count?"

Jason snorts. "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"Not when I'm drunk and bleeding, no."

"How drunk are you?"

You mime counting. "As far as Dick knows, I'm 1 to 2 flutes drunk. As far as the staff knows, I'm 7 flutes drunk."

"I should probably get you back to your brother then" Jason laughs, pulling you by the arm. You notice for the first time just how big his hands really are.

"No, I-"

Gunshots. Pain. Panic. They ring in equal measure to you as a black van pulls up in the alley.

"Fuck! Box!"

A man in a dark suit crumples to the ground. You recognize him. He was part of Jason's security team. In a flurry of movement, Jason's by his side. You think he's checking the injuries- which in your opinion is at once the smartest and dumbest move you could do in this situation- but he-is in fact-checking for a gun.

Gun in hand, Jason begins shooting at the men.

You think to grab a stray brick or something but you knew your best chance was to crouch low and maybe convince Jason to do the same. But based on the murder radiating from him, that was highly unlikely.

Lizzie runs out in front of them to protect Box and Jason. It goes as well as expected.

Lizzie whines into your touch. The tendrils of your mind desperately trying to keep Lizzie there. You want to scream. Your mind surges trying to dip into someone else but Jason's anger and grief consume you. You want to charge at them, rip their throats out, tear them limb from limb. But it's Jason who does it. His body launches forward faster than you could speak.

The men in masks were just as fast. One of them incapacitates him with a well-placed metal pipe to the head. His whole body hits the pavement with one loud thud. Your breath catches.

"There's two of them,"

"What do you mean there's two of them?"

"The boss said black hair, blue eyes, and a fucked up face"

"Did he say what kind of fucked up?"

"Not really"

You want to squawk about how nosebleeds don't really count. Given, it is bleeding like it’s auditioning to be the next Niagara falls.

"Just take them both!" barks a rough voice from the van.

You think to make a break for it but fast as you are(not really). Your head was still ringing and you couldn't really take them out on your own.

You hold your hands up in surrender. "I'll go quietly. I know the drill. "

The men look at each other clearly confused by your cooperation but not really willing to question it.

They throw cuffs on your wrist and literally throw you into the van like a sack of potatoes. Not that they treat Jason any better. He looks dizzy and pale.

"Are you-"

With a heave, he throws up on "your" shoes. You want to laugh. You really do. You also just want to cry.

Tim is going to kill you. No, Alfred will. If you’re lucky-which you never are- Dick will suffocate you with a hug before they ever get to you.

Maybe just maybe, the kidnappers will do it for you.

Yeah, right.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x oc #jason todd #tim drake #batfam #barbara gordon #dick grayson #false face au #batsis #damian wayne #batfamily x reader #nightwing #dc fanfiction #dc comics

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ty-talks-comics · 5 years ago

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Best of DC: Week of February 12th, 2020

Best of this Week: Pennyworth R.I.P. One-Shot - James Tynion IV and Various Artists and Colorists

Some people think Dick Grayson is the glue that holds the Batfamily together, some say that it's really Tim Drake, but we all know that it has always been Alfred.

Alfred has been by Bruce's side since the day that Thomas and Martha Wayne were killed in Crime Alley. Alfred raised the boy from a young age and watched as he became a hero that Gotham City could truly be proud of. Alfred even got to see Bruce raise many kids of his own over the years and sas there to pick up the slack when Bruce was too injured, angry or didn't know how to talk to them. Alfred was patient. Alfred was loving. Alfred was amazing and will be sorely missed.

Alfred met his tragic end during the recent City of Bane arc and even after that wrapped up, it still took time for the rest of the family to get together and mourn his passing. Bruce has been trying to cope with it all by throwing himself into his Gotham Renovation Project and various superheroics. Barbara’s been dealing with her own issues in the form of a rogue Oracle. Damian has the Titans, Jason is on the outs with the family and Dick (Ric) doesn’t even really remember Alfred.

In the end, Bane managed to do what he set out to accomplish in the first place: He Broke the Bat.

Not only did he break Batman, he broke the entire family as a whole as shown from the very first shot of this book. Eddy Barrows presents us with a pulled out shot, showing a statue of Alfred in the middle of the new Alfred J. Pennyworth Children’s Hospital - a momentous honor meant to save kids just like Bruce. However, this scene also symbolizes the distance between all of the family. Tynion IV does a great job of scripting their inner thoughts as told by an unseen narrator.

Damian, being the one who was there, feels the weight of his disobedience and sees things as his fault. Tim hearkens back to the time after Jason died and fears for Bruce, knowing the darkness inside of him. Jason was told to NOT come, but Alfred had always treated him right and Barbara feels like she knows how to fix things, but who’s to say that she’s in the right mind to do so either? And Ric… well, Ric doesn’t know why he’s there, but he feels obligated.

Barrows does an amazing job of showing the pain through their forlorn expressions and lowered heads. I assume that Adriano Lucas was the one who colored these scenes because they make excellent use of cold blues to emphasize the sadness of the Family. Barrows also does something that a few artists struggle with in distinguishing each of the boys from each other. They each have distinct hairstyles and facial structures and it’s a nice touch for such a tragic event. Soon after, Tim finds a little dive bar for them to meet in and they each bicker a bit before Bruce arrives for toasts and memories.

This book also does an excellent job of showcasing personal moments that we never see between the kids and Alfred. Beginning with Damian, Chris Burnham draws a flashback to one of the first times that Alfred bails Damian out after he disobeys Batman about going out on patrols. Tynion IV and Burnham capture Damian’s early petulance through his childish pouting superiority complex. We see that Damian loved Alfred because he was willing to be patient with the young boy and Bruce was just getting used to having a trained assassin as a son.

Damian is still widely considered the worst Robin, but that idea has long passed its expiration date as the young lad has grown significantly over the years. In the beginning he could have killed anyone and not felt a lick of remorse for it, but over time, thanks to the softening of Bruce and Alfred, the boy has learned to care and take responsibility for things that weren’t even his fault. He tears up thinking that the rest of the family blamed him for Alfred’s death and regrets that he didn’t do more to stop Bane before leaving the bar.

Tim speaks next and Marcio Takara takes over art for Tim’s flashback. The third Robin is still arguably the smartest, but during a hectic fight with Firefly, he leaves some of his gear and Alfred bails him out by sneaking into the GCPD to retrieve the items. It’s very action packed and does well to show that sometimes Tim loses his cool too, but after the recollection, Tim says that he would step in for Alfred if Batman ASKS him to do so. When Bruce refuses, Tim makes a point that this is exactly like how Bruce was after Jason, but this time he has to pull himself through like an adult before he too leaves.

Tim is usually the Robin that’s touted as being the one who saved Batman during his most destructive period. He’s always been the level headed one, but in recent years he’s been put through the ringer. From being kidnapped by an unseen entity and thought dead for almost a year (Detective Comics, 2017), to fighting an alt-future, villainous version of himself (Detective Comics, 2018) and finally reuniting with his Young Justice friends and dealing with the chaos of that (Young Justice, 2019). Tim is tired and even more so of the darkness that shrouds Bruce and the Family.

Jaybird raises his glass to Alfred next and offers a counter to Tim. He says that maybe Batman would have worked out his issues after Jason’s death if a new kid didn’t swing in and just try to relieve him of the pain. Jason has always been the most extreme of the family, but he’s never been above asking Alfred for help. As a street urchin, Jason doesn’t trust most people, but despite this Alfred always thought to check up on Bruce’s second son and tried to bring him back to the side of the angels. Jason never bit, but he appreciated the effort.

He tells Barbara that he won’t chastise Bruce for how he feels because they’re all in that same spot right now, but he does want Bruce to work towards fixing it. Jason knows better than the rest of them what it feels like to have lost (Heroes in Crisis, 2018), but he also knows what it’s like to be there on the fringes with no one there to help.

Batgirl is often lost in the conversations that usually revolve around the boys, but she shouldn’t be. Barbara’s intellect exceeds that of Tim by a wide margin, but that intelligence also comes with an intuitiveness given to her by her father, James Gordon, as they live in the heart of Gotham. Barbara makes the most logical statement about the general fear swelling in Gotham after Bane’s rise and defeat and the lack of trust in Bat themed heroes given everything that The Batman Who Laughs has done. Bruce’s reconstruction project isn’t helping either as it’s just another shiny coat of paint over a city whose problems run down to its roots.

Babs may not have grown up in the mansion like the boys, but Alfred cared for her just the same, effectively being Batman’s first daughter...niece maybe the better description? David Lafuente does the art for her flashback and it’s a more cutesy style with thick defining lines and lots of faraway shots as we see Alfred and Barbara hiking up a mountain just outside of Gotham City. The actions of Killing Joke absolutely still happened and to celebrate the anniversary of Barbara leaving spine rehab, Alfred wanted to celebrate with a hike and a cupcake.Barbara says that they need Bruce to come back and be the person that they all need him to be before she leaves as well.

Finally, we hear from Ric Grayson. The former Dick Grayson was another victim of Bane’s vendetta, getting shot in the head by the KGBeast in an attempt to further hurt Batman. Aside from his Flying Grayson memories and a few scant ones with Alfred and Bruce, he doesn’t remember his life as Nightwing, with the Titans or the rest of the Batfamily and that probably makes this book harder to swallow. Dick has always been the elder brother to each of them and truly is Batman’s voice of reason after Alfred, but Dick is gone.

So Ric, knowing he needs to step up and say something to get Bruce to help himself, asks him to tell whatever story Dick Grayson might have if he were still around. Bruce then speaks up about a time where Dick found out that Alfred had been leaving flowers at the sight of the Waynes murder to celebrate the anniversary of their marriage where Bruce had been leaving flowers on the anniversary of their deaths. Dick tells Bruce that Alfred always wanted to tell him that their deaths had saved countless lives and even the world at times.

It’s grim and kinda dark, but in the grand scheme of things, Ric is right. Batman has given everything he can to the world under his mission of Justice and that never would have happened if the Waynes survived, just look at Batman: The Gift (Batman #45 - #47, 2018). In that timeline, the Waynes did survive and it was a nightmare world where crime was rampant, Dick was crazed Batman like Flashpoint Thomas Wayne and everything was just wrong. Ric may not have known all of tht, but he did know that Alfred was right and that Bruce needed to be strong for him.

Before Ric leaves, he hangs a picture on the bar wall while Tynion IV and Barrows convey the emotional impact of Ric’s act through four panels without dialogue. Bruce looks at the picture and not only can readers feel the tears swelling up in the corners of their eyes, but we almost feel as if Bruce is as well as he stars upon a picture of the core Batfamily with Alfred as the focus between them.

I’m not gonna lie, I don’t know if I’m emotionally ready to deal with a Batman future without Alfred. He’s always been such a faithful companion and foil to our dour hero and his passing has only made Batman that much darker. The cynic in me knows that DC Won’t keep him dead forever, especially with an incoming Crisis that may undo everything from the last four years of storytelling, but at the same time it might not. I think the idea to kill Alfred was a good one to create awesome moments like it did in this book, but who will take his place?

Could this really be Tim’s time to step away from the masks and go behind the scenes like Oracle did? Could Alfred’s daughter, Julia, see a return since she hasn’t been seen since I think All Star Batman in 2016? Will Lucius Fox actually stay in the position as he’s there now in Detective Comics? Who knows?

All that matters is the life of Alfred and the mark he left on our favorite characters.

Also, support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/TyTalksComics

#alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dick grayson #barbara gordon #tim drake #jason todd #dc comics #james tynion iv #eddy barrows #peter j tomasi #comics #comic review

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incoherentbabblings · 5 years ago

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Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (7/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer’s work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Ao3 Link Here!

“Hey…” Tim said, still lying on the floor.

“Dude!” Conner’s voice came through, exuberant. “Bart you were right! He did answer!”

Bart’s high-pitched giggle ran straight through Tim’s bones. It cut off abruptly as he processed Conner’s incredulity.

“Why do you guys always think my plans are bad?”

“Shush.” Cassie’s voice also drifted in. Tim must have been on speakerphone. “Tim… what is going on? Like… is this for real?”

“No way.” Said Conner. “You would have told us. It’s gotta be fake. Weird fake, but fake.”

“…It’s not fake.”

“Pardon?” Bart asked, being awfully polite. “Why didn’t you keep us in the loop? Or are you channeling Batman this month?”

“It had to be real. Like super real. No heroes, no nothing.”

“Bullshit, Tim.” Conner’s tone was fond, but a little exasperated. “Kara’s been on my ass about it too. Some of us have secret ids yaknow. No metas in Gotham rule aside, we could help?”

“I mean… it’s complicated. There’s a bunch of murders recently.”

Cassie sounded worried. “We saw the news the other day. You and Stephanie were shot at?”

“…Yeah. Someone’s targeting brides who wear this designer. Steph and I were trying to make ourselves the next pair on the list… the guy botched it and shot Bishop Sherborne.”

“So… once Batman catches Mr Always the Bridesmaid Never the Bride… then what?” Asked Conner. “No more wedding, I guess. Which – yikes – bud. I’ve seen the stuff online. Some people are being brutal about this whole thing. You have too many fake engagements people aren’t gonna believe a real one after that.”

Cassie piped up again. “Not to mention Steph is gonna be thrown into limbo, right?”

Tim was silent as he listened to his friends. He couldn’t explain. This is why he didn’t tell them. They weren’t doing it intentionally, but they were setting off all his alarm bells. It seemed Bart heard something in the silence that the others did not, and asked, more than a little befuddled,

“Wait… you and Steph aren’t together together for reals are you? ‘Cause, you really should have told us! Like no bachelor party? Really? No me as your best man?”

Conner sounded very affronted when he cut in, “Eh. No. That’s me.”

“You can have a girl as your best man right?” Cassie pondered. “Nowadays? I’d be good at that…”

Tim rolled onto his front, utterly depressed. “I don’t know. Know what I wanted… Know what Steph wants…”

It seemed Tim’s sadness finally clicked in the minds of his friends, and Conner lowered his tone.

“You getting your heart broken bud?”

Tim’s eyes grew wet. “I can’t help her.”

“Help her how?”

Cassie began to shoo the other two away. “Let me speak to him. One to one.”

“I can still hear the phone you know.”

“Shut up, Conner. I don’t want you and Bart butting in.”

“Rude.” Bart chirped, but did as he was told. There was shuffling, and the sound of someone being kicked, but soon enough it was just Cassie on the other side of the phone.

“Can’t help her how?” She repeated Conner’s statement, and Tim heard him huff in the distance.

“We… we both want to be together.”

“That’s…that’s good Tim. Right? So, what’s the issue?”

Tim sneered. She wasn’t making it sound good. They just wouldn’t understand, but Tim continued to try.

“But she… I thought she was in a better place. I thought I was in a better place. But the stress is getting to her. She’s tired of being judged. And that’s all I can offer her.”

Cassie was quiet but full of conviction when she responded, “I don’t believe that.”

“No but…Cassie I’ve never seen her like this. Like she’s three steps away from jumping out the window. And that’s supposed to be me. I don’t know how to show her, that she doesn’t need to be frightened. That other people don’t matter. People just aren’t coming on side, not entirely. Not even her helping Bishop Sherborne when he died was enough. And she’s losing her drive.”

“Could you…” She mused it over. “Have you got an event coming up?”

“The engagement party.”

“No, no. Something smaller. Something about your job. Something you could share with her. Show her she doesn’t need to be afraid to share a life with you. Start small to build back up confidence. Steph’s…she’s a little rough round the edges.”

“She’s from Gotham.”

“Exactly. But the more she does that sort of stuff with you, the more people will get to know her and that squidgy centre you talk about. I mean those engagement photos were beautiful.” Tim burned red. Of course, they had seen them. “And I want her red dress more than life itself, but that’s not her. Not you really either. You both do stuff outside of nightwork… do that stuff together y’know?”

Stephanie had asked him about his work. She had asked several times in fact. She had been on multiple visits to his office, watching as he went through conference calls, reports and other dry white-collar work whilst she sat with her college notes spread around her. She herself had said she was interested in what he did. Tim blinked, a plan coming together.

“…Thank you, Cassie.”

“My pleasure.” She said, sounding smug. “Is she there with you now?”

“No… we… we had an argument. She’s gone to cool off on patrol.”

Conner pinched the phone then. “Not to sound judgy, but man… she’s got a temper. And you said when she gets angry, she gets stupid.”

Defensiveness replaced depression, and Tim’s tone became a warning. “Conner.”

“I’m just saying. Think you should go find her.”

“She’s competent Kon.”

“…Sure.”

It was very difficult to not take an imagined slight to Stephanie as a slight against himself. “What’s that mean?”

“Listen, dude—”

A frantic beeping from his phone interrupted Conner. It was the distress signal of Batgirl, one that she did not ring often, or ever, and Tim’s heart stopped.

No. No. No.

“Have to go.”

“Wait –”

“It’ll be over in two weeks so bear with the radio silence.”

“Huh? Dude don’t shut us out after –”

“Bye.”

And he hung up, then rushed downstairs.

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

She had fallen, because if Stephanie suspected of how she would die, it would be from gravity being a bitch. Some bastard had shot at her, she had jumped to avoid it, then collapsed through the roof – rotten wooden beams giving way under her weight. She had crashed down with a horrendous smack, and likely had a concussion. Her neck had snapped in such a way that left her terrified to move her head. Her leg felt damp. Struggling, she pressed her little beacon. Someone would be on their way soon. Outside the building, she heard that man whooping in victory, trying to figure out a way in.

She was in over her head. She wasn’t paying attention. And now she was in agony on the dirty floor of some shithole in Gotham, a murderous drug lord wanting a piece of her.

Wow, she really was spiralling down.

And somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to blame Tim. He hadn’t caused these issues. He’d been honest with her, given her multiple opportunities to back out. And she had hurt him, in every manner of speaking. Even if he had been putting her under pressure… she didn’t…

She didn’t even blame Bruce, who was only trying to protect people, and entrusting his family to help him do so.

Her issues were hers and hers alone. Maybe she’d never really dealt with them, maybe she’d never really worked her way through them. Maybe she just buried it all. Ignore it, and it will go away.

She wasn’t sure how long she was left alone on the floor, safe from the man outside, but however long it was, it wasn’t enough for her to get back on her feet. Her head lolled on the ground, and she tried to push herself up. Keep moving, that’s all she had to do. She’d been through worse and coped. She only managed to get onto her hands and knees when someone grabbed her blonde hair and ripped her back, making her cry out in shock. Her neck clicked oddly. Her left leg limply dragged across the floor, leaving red streaks behind her, whilst the right spasmed, trying to get a footing so she could kick herself upright and punch the bastard, but her head injury was disorientating her beyond being of any use.

“Can’t believe it’s that easy to take out one of you lot.” The cold feel of a pistol pressed against her jaw. If fired, it wouldn’t kill her immediately. This guy wanted her to hurt.

No. She had to apologise to Tim. She had to… She had too…

She had no time to prepare a snarky comeback, because one of the family’s hook shots had rammed itself into the guys arm. He shrieked, hand dropping the gun and her hair, allowing her to roll away into the corner to get a better look at her leg.

She looked up, to see Tim, fully dressed as Red Robin amongst the rotting rafters, angrier than she had seen him in a long time.

She got caught between sharp relief and guilt. Tim had come for her. Dutiful, loyal, Tim.

Letting her head thump against the floor, Stephanie flittered in and out of consciousness.

Tim, meanwhile, had lost his temper.

He knew he was a bit overprotective of Steph. He also knew she was competent. She had been through a lot with and without him, and as Batgirl had saved Gotham multiple times over. He wasn’t a white knight coming to rescue the damsel, but something feral would be set off seeing her in danger. Didn’t matter if he was fifteen or twenty, someone hurting her, someone touching her, was enough to set him off.

It wasn’t like with Captain Boomerang, where everything was calculated, cold and methodical. Steph was hurt, Tim had the means to make the man who did it hurt.

And hurt him Tim did.

Stephanie watched most of it, not really in the right frame of mind to do anything but watch. She wanted to call for him, pull him back to her. But then she would black out for a moment. When she would reawaken, any chance at orientating herself would be lost from the view in front of her.

Bones were meant to be inside limbs, right?

Tim’s torture continued until Dick yoinked him away.

“That’s enough. Okay? Don’t make the same mistake as me.”

Dick was home? The thought was enough to cause the red to fade, and for Tim to start to catch his breath. His stomach began to drop. He’d done something stupid?

No. Where was Stephanie?

Nightwing had him held in such a grip that was designed to allow Tim to break out if he wanted, but also jolt into him some semblance of what he was doing.

Tim blinked, then wriggled out of Nightwing’s hold. His brother looked more than a little white at the scene before him. Tim’s chest was heaving, and he could feel sweat dripping off his chin. Slowly he turned to see what damage he had done, then immediately looked away. He had done something stupid. And potentially murderous. For her. Again.

Stephanie had somehow pulled herself into a sitting position, one leg laying limply at an angle. She was breathing heavily, trying to control her body’s response to the pain. Her head was tilted, resting on her shoulder, as if it was too heavy for her neck to support.

“Batgirl…” And then Tim was at her side, looking for the injury in her leg. She hissed when he got close, but from what he could see, there was no fracture, only a puncture wound.

“Landed on the crates. Mother of all splinters..!” She felt her eyes rolling around, vision a blur, and grunted to herself. Play it off. It’s not serious. She hadn’t messed up. Not really, not as bad as before.

Her tone was deliberately light, but Tim couldn’t bring himself to smile. He had realised that his hands were wet and didn’t want to pick her up if he was going to smear her in more blood.

“I’m sorry.” She said, taking Tim away from his brooding. “I hit you. I shouldn’t have.” She looked like she was going to start crying, the pain in her leg and head coupled with the guilt seemingly too much. “I don’t want to hurt you and I did. I’m sorry.”

Tim wanted very much to pull back her cowl and stroke her hair, but restrained himself.

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you the way I did.”

“No but –”

He shushed her and she whimpered. Shamefully, he gripped and wiped his hands on his cape, trying to make himself somewhat presentable, then very carefully, very gently, picked her up in a bridal hold. She cried out but reached up to wrap her arms around him.

Nightwing called both the police and an ambulance, staring at the dying man on the floor. Dick couldn’t do anything to help him, too many broken bones to even move him safely.

Tim watched Dick’s face grow cold.

“I’ll take her back to my apartment.” Tim said.

“No, you will not.”

Tim’s temper spiked again, though holding Stephanie he was unable to act on it as he would have liked. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

The signature sound of Batman’s cape fluttering, and the distant noise of sirens approaching, made the potential argument end.

“Nightwing, drive them both back to the Manor. Have Batgirl checked over.”

There was something very odd in Bruce’s tone that Tim wasn’t used to hearing, but it made him a little frightened.

“As said injured party member…” Chirped Stephanie, head craned back and straining her neck. “I feel like… I need a medical.”

“Hurry up!” Nightwing ordered, making his way to the batmobile. “You can drive my cycle but put Batgirl in the back.”

Four hours later, out of her costume and several stitches in her leg from where she had received the mother of all splinters, Stephanie’s head began to clear. She remembered Tim swooping down, and she remembered him hurting that man. Badly. Really badly. All because she lost her footing. All because she was in the wrong headspace to go out on patrol.

She was better than that. She knew she was.

She stayed silent, but when Tim returned to her side, the two stared at each other for the longest time. Neither knew where to begin.

Bruce started it for them.

“Do I even need to say what went wrong tonight.” There was no question in his tone. Just a flat, tightly bound anger that Stephanie nearly whimpered at the sound of. She shook her head.

“I messed up. I let my emotions get in the way and I got hurt when it was easily avoidable.”

If Bruce was impressed by her self-awareness, it did not show. He turned to Tim. “And you?”

Tim said nothing. Only glared. Stephanie pressed her hands to her eyes, she wouldn’t be able to block out the sound of the oncoming argument, an argument that was her fault, but that didn’t mean she was going to watch it.

“Tim.” Bruce pushed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nightwing, who had been sat a little back from the whole scene, piped up. “You know that’s a sack of bullshit Tim.”

Tim’s ears burned red, and Bruce didn’t miss the look of betrayal on Tim’s face at his brother. Seemed like that look was all Bruce was seeing recently.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Tim repeated.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“This is just one more thing in a continuing dangerous trend with you and I have half a mind to –”

“I don’t answer to you anymore!” Tim was turning as red as his uniform, but Bruce would not be moved.

“You’re both grounded until the wedding is finished.”

Ordinarily, Stephanie would have fought back. Bruce was not the boss of her. Even Babs barely counted as a mentor anymore. Not really. She was her own keeper, and Bruce attempting to parent her was just an embarrassing effort at best.

Now, with her hands pressed over her eyes, blind to anyone’s expressions, she nodded her consent.

“Promise.” She warbled.

Tim on the other hand, was in the mood to fight. He was so wound up from the day’s events, with no outlet, that it poured out of him defiantly. His voice cracked childishly.

“No! No, no! She didn’t do anything wrong and her injury isn’t even that bad!”

Dick watched Tim grow increasingly frustrated and frowned. What the hell had he missed the past six weeks? Bruce was going to return in kind with an equal aggression that would only serve to blow the roof off the cave, so Dick decided it was his turn to intervene. He got up and shoved past Bruce, physically grappling Tim and dragging him away from Stephanie. Bruce could cool down for a moment and talk to the crying girl. He’d try to give Tim a reality check.

When they reached the stairs, Tim wriggled out of Dick’s grip, eyes still on Stephanie, but his anger was directed straight at Dick.

“What do you think you’re—”

Dick grabbed Tim’s arm again, shaking him, making Tim look at him. “I think Tim, you’ll be needed to look after Steph. Yeah?”

“I don’t need to be grounded to do that. I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m not being punished for something I didn’t do!” Tim protested, tugging back to remove Dick’s hand from his arm. Dick huffed, feeling Tim was letting his ego get in the way of the point he was trying to make.

“I really don’t care about that. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re both off kilter. Take a break. Look after each other.”

“I am not –”

“Tim look at her!” Dick hissed. Bruce had moved over to Steph’s side, and sat next to her. Tim watched as the two talked.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, voice somewhat softer.

“I… I’m having a bit of a freak out at the moment.” It was an odd thing for her to confess to Bruce of all people, but he seemed to be listening. “The whole… pretending to be in love mission is throwing me off more than I thought it would.”

“Pretending?”

“Oh God…” She moaned. Where did Bruce get off sounding so confused? What did he even think of her and Tim as a couple? Were they that transparent in their pining? “I’m finding it emotionally taxing.”

Always easier to be flippant. Say exactly what you mean, but hide it under a layer of sarcasm as a back door exit in case the sincerity of the statement was called into doubt. Bruce did not doubt her. Instead, he asked her something else.

“Can you keep going?”

“I swore to.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Then Bruce leaned forward, grabbing her wrist. He tugged it away from her face so she wasn’t hiding her eyes. At the look she gave him, so tired and sad, his grip moved down to her hand, and she squeezed back.

“I can keep going.” She sniffed, her bodily pain catching up with her miserable mood. “Not gonna lie, Batman… I feel like I’m slipping back into bad habits.”

“That’s why I said no patrol.”

“I know.”

“You going to listen?”

She nodded. “No Batgirl for a couple of weeks…Promise.”

“At the very least you can catch up on sleep a bit.” It was meant to be reassuring, but Bruce’s claim made Stephanie snort a gentle laugh. “And work on whatever is troubling you.”

Stephanie’s smile faded. “I can try. That’s all I can do at the minute. I’ll fix it.”

“Okay. I’ll get Alfred to give you a painkiller to help put you down tonight.” Bruce looked to Tim, who was in the corner with Dick. He looked equally miserable but chewed his lip and walked back over.

“I want to take you back to the apartment, Steph, if you want me to. I’ll take a couple of weeks off with you.”

She nodded. “I want that. Lemme get my drugs first.”

Bruce’s eyes hardened a little as he inspected Tim, who was stubbornly avoiding his gaze. Their conversation would have to wait. Once dosed up, Stephanie wrapped her arms around Tim’s shoulder, and hoisted herself up so she could hop over to his car.

“Goodnight Bruce…thank you.”

His mouth twitched, but with what emotion, Stephanie couldn’t tell.

When they got back, Stephanie managed to get settled on the bed. Tim promised to stay up with her to ensure she wouldn’t pass out with nobody to check on her. She lay like her limbs were made of lead, her head resting on a pile of pillows trying to support her neck.

“I’ll be okay. Alfred said since I can hold a conversation and my pupils are normal, I’ll be fine.”

“Your pupils are not fine. They’re as big as dinner plates.”

“That’s the painkillers.”

“I know… I just…”

She smiled. “You worry.”

“Yeah.”

She looked down at her hands, wringing them together. Her fingers on her right hand settled on her engagement ring, and she sighed.

“I’m sorry Tim, for everything. The argument and the hitting and me being a brat for weeks…You don’t… you don’t deserve any of this.”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you the way I did. And I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.” He fought back.

“No…not really.” She wrung her hands. “There’s no excuse. I’m better than this… better than my dad.”

“You’re not your father.”

Stephanie nodded in response. He thought she believed him.

Tim, who up until this point had been standing on the other side of the room, moved to sit on the bed. He was facing away from her, but Stephanie could see both of their faces in his mirror. The guilt that was rippling across his face was hard to watch, so she stared straight forward instead, looking at the fat yellow duck at the foot of the bed. Tim saw her do so, and his fingers curled up in the bed sheets.

“Can we get some things out in the open? Like, brutally honest out in the open?”

“Interrogating someone whilst their high on painkillers? Sure. But can I start?” She asked. Tim screwed up his nose and nodded. Stephanie kept her eyes on the duck. “Why did you hurt that man so badly?”

Tim’s palms became sweaty, and he nervously wiped them down his sweatpants.

“He hurt you.” He offered lamely.

“No. This was… this was different.”

“It is related to why Bruce and I don’t get on much in the suits anymore.”

Understatement. She didn’t know what he’d done. She couldn’t know…

“You think you have to be that harsh? Your fighting is getting colder and crueler. I worry…”

“What I was doing before wasn’t working. I’m not Jason. Not that far gone. But I’m not… not the same person I was when I was fifteen, Steph.”

Please don’t abandon me for it.

Stephanie shifted, creeping out from under the covers. She curled up behind him, her sore leg still stretched straight, and then reached around so she could link their fingers. She was smiling a little dopily, and Tim would have found it sweet if he could have gotten the day’s events out of his head.

“Look at us. You’d think we’ve been through some traumatic things the past few years.”

Tim raised his eyebrows at her teasing. “Weird that.”

Steph laughed, though it sounded a little slurred to his ears.

“You know, I figured out a long time ago. Why I love you.” She whispered conspiratorially, begging Tim to play along. Eventually she would conk out, drugs and injuries tiring her out too much to stay conscious, but Tim let her take the conversation off track. Her breath and hold were so warm it was nearly feverish. She had seen him nearly murder a man, but then she had let him pick her up with blood stained hands, and she now held his fingers like nothing was wrong. Maybe the pair of them were beyond help, but Tim couldn’t give up the idea of a happy life for Stephanie. Preferably with him in it but…he wasn’t too picky.

“Why?” He muttered.

“You’re so gentle. So gentle. No other guy I know comes close to it. And, yeah, at first, I was infatuated with you because oh so cool Robin, so brave, so smart… but when you stayed with me despite the pregnancy… I don’t know how to put it… you have a giant brain and a giant-er heart. I don’t care about how well you can hurt people. That’s never been part of it. And I believe you’ve never enjoyed that bit of superheroing. Knowing you had come for me, that made me feel safe, that was all I needed. Watching you nearly kill that man…”

“I panicked.” He confessed. “You’d left on such shaky terms and then your beacon went off and all I could see was red. I was so upset.”

“I was frightened for what you would do. For a second.”

Her stating her worry seemed to almost traumatise Tim. An uncomfortable length of time passed as he worked through what she said in his head. Stephanie didn’t know him. She didn’t love him. Not who he was. Not really. That violence was part of him now. She said she knew him, but with who he was now staring her right in the face, she did not want it to be true.

She leaned closer, her breath a warm whisper against his neck. “I told you. I won’t let you forget. Especially seeing that violence tonight. I promise Tim. That’s not you.”

He choked a little when he responded, trying to play it down and play it off.

“I try not to think about it. The moment I do for too long, I’ll believe Bruce is right to be worried.”

“Nah. He’s just being a dad.”

A long moment of silence passed. Stephanie continued to play with Tim’s fingers whilst she did nothing but think through the day’s events. Finally, she pressed her forehead against the back of his neck, against the burn scar he had received what felt like so long ago.

“Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you love me? Actual quantifiable reasons.” She shifted behind him, uttering more to herself than him, “Gimme an ego boost.”

Tim answered immediately, “Because you’re brave. Because you refuse to accept your lot in life. Because you’re beautiful. Because you came back to Gotham when you had every right to leave forever. Because somehow, after everything he’s done to you, you don’t hate your dad.”

“Don’t like him either.”

She didn’t respond to any of his other points. She was trying to accept them as truth, as Tim had yet to lie to her for all of this hellish two months. But something just prevented her from absorbing it. That wasn’t her. Or maybe it had been.

“Not the same thing.” Tim sighed and leaned back. The way she was sat meant his head thunked on her collarbone. “Steph? You’re a good person. Even if you doubt it sometimes. Reason enough.”

Steph’s breath washed over Tim, smelling of the medicine she had slurped down earlier.

“I hurt you.”

“Remember when I throttled you and kicked you in the stomach?”

“That was different.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m a big boy and can handle an argument here and there. This pity party, Steph… it helps no-one. Speaking from experience here.” Tim’s mind drifted back to his conversation earlier. “I have an idea. Well, Cassie suggested it actually.”

“You spoke to the Titans.” There was a flat curiosity in her tone. It wasn’t aggressive, just resigned.

“They’re getting sick of being ignored. Don’t think embarrassment is going to cut it as an excuse anymore.” Tim watched as Stephanie looked away, ashamed from being chided. “Listen. I want you to come with me to do some stuff for work.”

“What stuff?”

“Tomorrow I’m visiting the community centre down the road. There’s an after-school club for kids whose parents work crazy hours. We funded the renovations and pay a few members of permanent staff. It’s just a fluffy photo op, but you might enjoy it more than anything else I do for my job.”

“How old are the kids?”

“Middle school and down.”

She sat still and thought it through. Tim sighed. “Listen. You once told me that I was going to drive myself mad one day.”

“You are going to drive yourself mad one day.”

“Why?”

She huffed, already knowing what angle he was playing. “Because you worry too much and have overly controlling tendencies when left unchecked.”

“…Yeah. Sure.” He tried not to sound too resentful as she relayed his flaws so dispassionately. “So, where’s Miss “The Only Variable You Can Control Is Yourself”? Huh?” Tim nudged her jaw with his forehead, causing her to grumble. “You do you, Steph. The rest will fall into place. Come with me to this event. Play some foosball with kids.”

She screwed her eyes shut, and Tim watched her at the awkward angle. Finally, her internal battle ended, and she nodded her head.

“It’s another thing for the job if nothing else.”

“I’m not asking you to do it for the mission.” Tim breathed. He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth. “I mean it’s a side perk sure, but I just want it to remind you that you’re not a bad person.”

Stephanie finally pulled away, back under the covers of the bed. Her eyes were wet.

“I’m maybe not a bad person but I am a mess. Don’t know why you put up with me.”

“That’s okay.” And Tim crawled over to her. Being unbearably tender, he pulled all of her hair to one side and began to braid it, hoping it would help her sleep better than her usual tangled mop allowed. A sudden memory occurred to him, and he smiled absentmindedly. “You’re worth a few stomach ulcers.”

She looked at him suspiciously at his weird statement, handing him a hair tie from her wrist as he worked his way down. “I haven’t changed my mind. About what I said. I’m not emotionally ready to be with you. Not strong enough yet.”

“Do you want to be?” He asked, tone light, trying to not pressure her too much. He finished tying off the braid with an exaggerated snap of the elastic.

“With you?”

“Mm.”

“I do, Tim.”

“Then I’ll wait. After this mission is finished, we can… start from scratch again. Take it slow.”

“…I like the sound of that.”

“And in the meantime…” He got under the covers next to her. “We work on one thing at a time. Like a checklist. Number one, sleep and work off that injury.”

“Tim…” She smiled, but it was brittle and fell very quickly. Tim stroked loose strands of hair away from her face, and she shut her eyes. “How do you know I’m not just using you? You could be with someone like Tam right now. Why stay for the promise of maybe?”

“Well, firstly, you don’t have a manipulative bone in your body.”

“That’s a lie.” Her voice was starting to slur. She was growing heavier and sleepier with each moment.

He quickly rebuffed her rebuttal. “Mmm? I don’t know about that. And secondly,” He rested his hand on her cheek. “I don’t want Tam, or anyone else. Just you. I want to be happy. So, I want to stay in Gotham. I want Bruce to get off my case. I want to help people. And I want… I want you. That’s all. Think that’s…pretty standard for a guy in his twenties.”

Softly, slowly, Stephanie had moved closer and closer whilst Tim mused aloud. When they were sharing a pillow, Tim’s eyes drifted down to her lips again, and chewed his own nervously.

“You can kiss me.” She said, tone still flat. “If you want to. For real.”

“…Not good for you. You said. Once.”

“Once.”

But Tim knew she was only saying so to punish herself. He may have been sick in love with her, but he still wasn’t so far gone as to make out with someone who, as far as he knew, was still pretty high on painkillers.

Then their foreheads were touching, and Steph’s hands were burying into Tim’s hair. He felt awfully cruel when he did so, whilst knowing it was the right thing to do, but Tim reached down, under the sheets, and pushed four fingers into her stitches.

She shrieked, rolling away on to her back. Her cry turned into one of laughter, then she groaned, writhing a little under the sheets as the pain in her head and leg sharpened at the sudden movements.

“No funny business madam.”

Breathlessly, she grunted, nodding a little too fervently.

“Sure, sure.”

She was becoming that last stage of manic before the exhaustion caught up with her, so Tim tried to gently press down on her limbs, one by one, hoping to create a reassuring weight to help calm her down.

“Things will be better in the morning. You’ll see.” He laid back down, wrapping an arm around her, essentially making them spoon. His hand reached for hers, and he began to play with her ring. “Wanna take it off? To sleep?”

She shuffled backwards, until the curve of her spine pressed against his chest. “S’okay.” And then she yawned, nuzzling her way into the pillow.

They lay in comfortable silence for a long moment, before Tim reached back to turn off the lights. When his hand returned to hers, she called his name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy to her own ears, as she was half asleep when the thought came to her.

“Tim?”

“Mm?”

“You promise to wait for me? Just a bit longer?”

“Promise.”

She squeaked happily, then promptly began to snore. Gone. Tim chuckled, then closed his eyes.

#timsteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #dc #my fic tag

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diyunho · 6 years ago

Text

The Joker x Reader-”The One That Got Away” Part 1

The terrorist attack targeting Wayne National Bank nearly three years ago left only one survivor behind: Y/N almost died from the injuries, but she was lucky enough to wake up at the hospital days later. It was so hard to cope with the news: on top of losing her eyesight, the young woman lost her co-workers also and strangely enough the one responsible for the entire tragedy wasn’t The Clown Prince of Crime.

“They told me you’re here again,” you smile and there’s no answer. “Are you going to come in or do you want me to bring you something to eat? We’re closing soon, it’s almost 10pm.”

The blind Y/N extends the cane until it touches the recipient of her visit.

“I understand that you’re shy and there’s nothing wrong with it; you just need to tell me.”

“I’m not shy,” the deep tone interrupts.

“So are you coming in this time?” Y/N asks while the man grunts and she correctly guesses he’s getting up from his spot. “Follow me,” you encourage and he pulls the hoodie on his face, steadily walking behind the woman leading the way. “Today we have chicken soup and spaghetti with red sauce. That that I want to brag, but it turned out pretty good,” you giggle to lighten up the atmosphere: you’re aware it’s not easy for some living on the streets to acknowledge they require help.

“Mina!” you shout as you enter the spacious room. “Another portion please!”

“Sure thing!” the assistant’s energetic reply is perceived from beyond the counter.

“You can take a sit at any table, she’ll bring the food shortly,” you let him know and then loudly inquire: “Who else is here?”

“I’m here,” Silvia answers, slurping on her hot soup.

“Me too,” you hear Walter. “I also see Dave, Russell, Angie. The rest I’m not sure,” the 70 years old informs, pointing at the newcomer.

“Hey new guy, you have a name?” Angie licks her fork, digging in the pile of pasta afterwards.

The man is silent for a few moments, then mutters through his teeth:

“Jay.”

“You’re lucky there’s still food left, son! It’s crazy busy all the time,” Dave huffs. “This is the best Soup Kitchen in Gotham, and the lady standing in front of you a true angel!” one of the regulars states with such conviction it prompts cheers from the others left in the cafeteria at the end of the busy day.

“If only,” you laugh amused at the affirmation.

“Here you go; enjoy,“ Mina brings over a bowl of soup and a plate full of spaghetti to the man that’s been lurking around for the past two months but didn’t step into the building until today. Jay mumbles something resembling a “thanks” and by the sounds he makes slurping on the hot liquid one could say it’s very appreciated.

The volunteers would tell you if they spotted him outside the premises and you would usually take food to him, offering a place at a table which he refused; not the first or the last to show restrain when shown kindness.

You’re a bit surprised he decided to finally join the crowd; maybe he doesn’t like being around people.

“Mina, are you ok closing with John and Sandy? I have to open the bakery in the morning,” you explain although it’s not necessary.

“Yes, of course; told you should have went home an hour ago. They’re almost done with the dishes and we won’t have that much left to do after the last guests finish their meal. We’ll be fine, don’t worry. OK?” the young woman gives you a soft nudge towards the door and you feel the ground with the cane, eager to take a shower after the long day.

“Good night then,” you smile,” see you guys soon.”

“Good night!” several voices respond back.

The apartment is just three blocks away, conveniently situated on the top of the bakery you own: “Sweet Temptations” is one of the most popular bakeries in Gotham, slowly becoming a contender for the first position.

Once outside you stop for a few moments to enjoy the silence and the soft breeze on your cheeks before reprising your walk. Police cars alarms start blaring in the distance and you sigh, annoyed: quietness never lasts for too long in this damned city.

You turn left on Glissan Avenue and halt, carefully listening: you could swear you discerned some snickering ahead of you. Maybe not?...

A few more feet and your cane is abruptly yanked out of your hand, almost making you lose balance:

“Hey pretty girl, can I get a kiss in exchange for the stick?”

You straighten your shoulders, frowning:

“Randy, is that you?!”

“Umm…it’s possible,” he chuckles and you feel the air around, trying to find his body.

“I’m exhausted and not in the mood for your crap!” you admonish and want to continue but you get interrupted:

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You know my brother’s an idiot!...Hey…Hey!!!! What the…,” the other young man yells and the noise of a loud punch and broken bone startles you. “Hey, leave my brother alone!!!!...Oh shit!” the turmoil of a struggle and more ruckus indicating a fight make you frantically search for your cell in the purse.

“What’s going on?” you ask, scared at the moans of pain.

“I think he broke my nose,” Randy manages to utter still dizzy from the unexpected attack. His sibling Steve is trying to defend himself from the aggressor, apparently without too much success since the thud reaching your ears indicates he got thrown on the concrete pavement.

“If…if you’re The Batman, I can assure you I’m not in any kind of danger!” you pant, scared about whatever the hell is happening. “I know them, please stop!”

“It’s not…it’s not The Batman…” Randy gags, the taste of his own blood making him nauseated.

“I’m calling 911!” the cell phone is taken out of the bag and Randy shrieks:

“He’s running away…”

“Please don’t call the cops,” Steve mutters, not having the strength to get up yet. “I’m sure they’re not gonna like the fact that two teenagers fresh out of the juvie already got involved into an altercation.”

“I can testify you got assaulted!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t see anything,” Steve groans while his brother helps him up. “They might twist it against us and I don’t want to go back to detention.”

“Me neither,” Randy grumbles, wiping his bloody nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Did you see who it was?” you inquire, placing the phone in your pocket; you sure don’t want to create any more trouble for them.

“No,” the cane is returned to the anxious Y/N. “His mug was covered with a hoodie.”

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

Next morning, 5:43am

The bell dinging makes you aware someone entered the bakery.

“I’m sorry, we’re still closed until 6am,” you announce to the customer while brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“Hello Y/N, it’s me”, the familiar voice makes you smile.

“Good morning Mister Wayne; your box is ready,” you slide the package on the other side of the counter.

“Thank God! I hate early corporate meetings and this amazing stuff makes me wake up a bit, enough to seem like I’m interested, you know?” he soundlessly yawns and you burst out laughing.

“I’m glad it helps. Coffee?”

“Please!”

“The usual?”

“Naaah. Surprise me,” Bruce smirks and watches Y/N quite fascinated as she puts together his drink. Even if she can’t see, she moves with such ease and he takes a remorseful deep breath, wishing he could share his thoughts.

“Here you go Mister Wayne, triple shot. I think you need it today,” you hand over his cup and he takes a sip, smacking his lips in the process.

“This is very good,” Bruce praises your skills because lingering around the bakery for a few minutes it’s so much better that the dreadful meeting he’s about to attend. He takes a big stack of money from the inside pocket of his suit and hands it over to you.

“Are these…are these hundreds?!” you inquire, puzzled.

The lack of an answer confirms it.

“Mister Wayne, you don’t have to do this each time you come in. This is just... a lot again and the total for your box is only 46 dollars.”

“If I want to leave a tip, then I will. Share with your employees,” the stubborn heir suggests because this is how he usually convinces you to accept the money.

You want to protest but he keeps rambling on:

“There are also two checks in there: one for my monthly contribution to your charity, the other one you could say it’s an investment. Entirely up to you of course, but I would love for you to expand your business: a location next to the Wayne Tower would make me very happy. Every time I’m there pretending to be working I could run and get me a delicious treat to make my day better. ”

You blankly stare at him, deciding to speak up.

“Mister Wayne…You don’t have to do this… It wasn’t your fault…”

Bruce is grateful you can’t see his painful grimace at the candid words meant to alleviate the guilt of an event he failed to predict as both the main shareholder of Gotham National Bank and as his alter ego.

“You are not responsible for the lives that were lost. You just owned the bank, nothing more. It was very unfortunate, but please stop blaming yourself.”

He doesn’t comment yet, oddly enough paying attention to Y/N’s advice.

“You might not realize it, but you make this city a better place Mister Wayne; your generous donations truly make a difference. With your aid, my charity allows me to literally assist hundreds of those in need. That wouldn’t be possible without you. Take The Batman too for example; because of him this town is safer: he can’t get rid of all the rotten evil eating away at its core, but his watchful eye is a tremendous boost of hope for the rest of us. One person can’t do everything and he is not accountable for every bad action he cannot stop. You’re not more responsible than he is for the fate of others.”

Bruce sniffles, somehow relieved by the sudden monologue.

“You’re a good man, Mister Wayne. The tabloids might depict you as a carefree playboy, still they should mention your achievements also. Or at least bring up some details about that nice cologne you wear,” you giggle and his body relaxes at the small joke after being tense throughout the whole speech.

“It’s Dior,” he admits with a grin meant to alleviate the seriousness of what you just told him. And Bruce certainly appreciates it since he had no idea how much he craved to hear a confirmation of his own flaw: he is human after all, either as the rich billionaire or as The Batman. “Thank you…” he briefly touches your fingers while taking the box from the counter.

“I meant it Mister Wayne.”

“I know…” he sighs. “Think about the business proposal, OK?”

“I will,” you promise although you are not convinced it’s such a great plan on top of the numerous projects you’re involved in.

“I’ll see you next week,” Bruce promises and exits the pastry shop, abandoning its owner until their upcoming rendezvous.

You feel sorry for him, you really do. You hope what you told him stuck in the back of his mind: remorse is a strong poison Bruce Wayne should stay away from at any cost, especially when he’s in the center of attention due to his social position. Plus, he’s not liable for the tragedy that occurred nearly three years ago, even if he believes otherwise…

You were working as a teller at Wayne National Bank for eight months and that day was nothing special until the shift was almost over. The 25 year old Y/N went downstairs with her drawer in order to go over her daily transactions and make sure there were no discrepancies. Moments later, a powerful explosion shook the building and leveled it out in a matter of seconds, taking down walls and people alike as it sunk into rubble.

The only survivor was you since you happened to be in the vault; the metal crate protected you from the blast and you were lucky the emergency response team dug you out from under the debris in time: Y/N nearly perished and woke up at the hospital days later blind and unable to cope with the news: on top of losing her eye-sight, she lost her co-workers too.

Bruce Wayne felt responsible: he took pride in having the most sophisticated and advanced security system in place, yet nothing is fool proof, including the engineers that built it and sold out the secrets to the wrong people for the right price.

The terrorist attack was claimed by the Triple Star gang, another one of their attempts to take over Gotham in the never-ending battle for the top spot with The Joker. And Gotham’s citizens got caught in the crossfire. Again.

Bruce paid for everyone’s funerals and handsomely rewarded the grieving families along with his public apologies; the media tried to shred him to pieces, dragging his name in the mud again. It all died out once the family members of those killed in the attack sided with the billionaire: there’s nothing more off-putting to the press than dust settling over sensationalism without backup evidence.

You used the share you received from your ex-employer to open the bakery and start the kitchen soup, both venues flourishing under your patronage. Bruce was a constant customer and donor from day one, which aided raise awareness to the point of Y/N becoming some sort of local celebrity: despite her blindness after surviving catastrophe, she found the strength to rise above the shattered pieces of her life and help the less fortunate, which gained her the nickname of Angel of Gotham.

“Y/N,” Shane gets you out of trance, “do you want the chocolate croissants on top shelves today?”

“Yes, by the apple fritters and blueberry muffins,” you answer while the rest of the opening shift brings out the trays with freshly baked pastries from the kitchen.

The bell dings and Andy rushes in, frantically repeating:

“I know I’m late! I know I’m late!”

“AGAIN!!!” almost everyone teases in the same time, the choir urging more clumsy excuses:

“I know, ok? I’m deeply sorry. My car died out!”

“AGAIN!!!” the crew mocks and the poor guy sniffles, flustered to the maximum and you decide to give him a break.

“It’s fine; go wash your hands.”

“Y/N,” Andy halts in front of you. “Mister Wayne’s limo is parked outside and his chauffeur said he wants to talk to you.”

“He’s still here?!” you grab your stick and walk around the counter, heading outside the bakery.

“This way Miss,” the driver holds the limousine’s door opened until you get inside, slamming it shut as soon as you are next to your former boss. But something is off… the man doesn’t smell like Bruce’s cologne.

“Mister Wayne?...” you hesitantly mumble and the weird chuckle makes you cringe.

“Nope. Just rented a limo like his and waited until he left so I can take over. Luckily enough we saw an employee rushing in and he had no clue that the rich, pretty boy is not the one requesting a meeting.”

You panic and try to exit the car but it’s already moving and the door won’t open.

“Calm down, would you? If I wanted to hurt you I would have already done it.”

You exhale, nervously adjusting yourself in the comfortable seat.

“Who are you?” Y/N carefully stirs the conversation.

“A philanthropist interested in bestowing my fortune upon those in need,” the strange snickering comes to an end. “Here’s my business card,” your hands are placed on the person’s face without any warning. “Well, can you guess?”

“Umm…” you gulp, anxiously touching the skin. “Maybe mid-thirties…”

“Wow, that’s pretty good,” the man snorts, somewhat amused. “Go on.”

“Handsome…”

“Nailed it!!” he snarls and it gives you goosebumps.

“Green hair…”

His crazy silver grin diminishes a bit.

“Blue eyes,” and your eyes focusing on his astonish The Joker which is not an easy thing to accomplish.

“You…you can see!” he growls and your hands slide off his face. The King of Gotham had you on surveillance for months before he made contact today and nothing indicated the revelation he witnessed by pure chance.

“I was wondering if you‘ll show up,” your change in attitude baffles the usual emotionless King of Gotham. “Are you interested in money laundering throughout my charity?” you cold tone skips to the main topic. “Others have asked and no, I don’t do that; I don’t care about how much it would put back in my account. Dirty money has no place in my…”

“Says the perfect Angel lying to the world about her handicap,” The Joker sarcastically cuts you out.

“I’m not lying,” you mutter. “My vision comes and goes, it’s a neurological anomaly after the injury I sustained. I was warned that might happen and frankly I don’t have to announce it on TV or to my doctor when I’m blind and when I’m not. It’s easier to deal with it since at one point I might find myself in the blackness forever.”

“Interesting,“ The Joker huffs, crossing his legs. “I couldn’t care less about your sneaky ways; I’m not here to negotiate a deal. I’m here to get what I want. Money laundry will bring you more funds to do whatever the hell you do, help people and all that,” J flares his arms around, done with the charade.

“Yes, I help them and you kill them,” Y/N gives The Clown a mean glare. “Or beat them up for no reason,” you hint at the two teenagers he attacked since you actually saw him do it.

“Somebody gotta keep the balance,” he jokes about it like it’s some kind of funny topic.

“Mister Joker, I am here to help people and that’s it, “an apparent serene Y/N grumbles even if her heart is pounding out of her chest. “Can you please drop me off at the back entrance of my bakery? If I go missing or end up dead, people will notice. My disappearance or demise wouldn’t go unnoticed and you don’t need more unwanted attention, do you?” you play the best card you have because frankly you have zero aces in your sleeve.

The Joker sucks on his teeth, debating upon this dumfounding outcome that didn’t ruin his day; from time to time he loves a good challenge and the opportunity basically jumped at him so to speak. He gets easily bored and shit, this little project isn’t boring at all. Turned out to be quite interesting.

“Hey Frost!” The Joker shouts. “Let’s take McGillivray Street and return this lost Angel to her business. We don’t want a poor blind woman to get lost in this huge city; we’ll consider this our good deed for the year!”

“Of course sir,” the henchman switches lanes and you strive to remain composed because showing weakness could mean disaster while in the company of the unpredictable psychopath.

The limo takes a left and in a few seconds you reach your destination since Frost basically just slowly drove around the block. The fancy vehicle stops and you get out, preparing to bail when The Joker interrogates:

“Who are you really, hm?” J suspiciously squints his eyes.

You bent over to look at him, cautiously choosing your words:

“I’m the one that got away, Mister Joker. The only one.”

He puffs, signaling you to close the door.

“Good for you, sugar. We’ll keep in touch,” and he yanks the door out of your hand since he doesn’t have patience to wait for you to close it.

Oh my God, you think and reprise your stroll, sensing the concrete with the walking stick. What was that?! you shiver, just a few feet away from the back entrance of the pastry shop. How am I… but you can’t continue the argument since a van slams the breaks right by you, five guys quickly running out and pulling you inside.

“Did you see that boss?” Frost inquires, still waiting at the red light while watching the rearview mirror. “It was so fast nobody noticed.”

“It’s them,” The Joker sneers.

“Do we… … do anything?” Jonny throws the option out there for the heck of it.

“Do you have to fucking ask??!!” his boss shouts. “This is my goddamned town, not theirs! I decide who lives or dies, who gets kidnapped and who doesn’t. ME, not the Triple Star gang!!! I am sick of them interfering with my plans!”

“Call for reinforcements and discreetly follow?”

“No, tell the guys waiting to escort us on Andresen Avenue to intercept the van and follow it. We need a plan.”

“Yes sir,” Frost smirks, craving to take on another invigorating assignment since today was quite a dull day.

Back in the van, the men keeping you captive in between them didn’t articulate a single sentence yet. They have no clue you can see so they didn’t bother cover your head with a cloth. You know The King of Gotham is not present but you have to go on with it; what other choice do you have in this dangerous situation?

“Mister… Mister Joker?” you plead. “I’m sure we can…”

“The Joker?!” somebody laughs, finally talking and everyone snickers like it’s the best stand –up comedy act they ever heard. “No honey: this is the competition.” **************

Five days afterwards, 6pm

Everyone at the soup kitchen is eating in silence, the usual cheerful chit chatting absent from the premises: Y/N has been missing for five days, gone without a trace and despite all the efforts, her whereabouts are still unknown.

“Something bad happened,” Mike shakes his head, worried. “I can feel it,” he wipes his teary eyes.

“She wouldn’t just abandon everything and flee…” Clara whispers to her fellow table mates. “I’ve been homeless for a long time and this is the first place I found some real help, you know? Thanks to her I have a job interview next week,” the woman’s voice breaks. “Nobody would give me a chance and she put in a good word; I might have an opportunity to actually…” Clara blows her nose in a tissue, unable to finish her confession.

“We’re in the same boat,” George turns around from the nearby table and his eyes get big when he recognized who the man entering the establishment is. “Holy…”

The Joker is holding Y/N in his arms, both looking like they escaped a war: dusty, ripped clothes and visible bruises to match the unusual view seen by the 137 souls eating there for the moment. You are unconscious and a few people try to get up, startled.

“SIT DOWN!!!” The Joker screams, lifting you higher in his arms.

“Mister Joker, we gotta go!” Frost advises while keeping the door opened; the other goons temporarily blocked the traffic at The Clown’s orders. A few onlookers on the street are already dialing 911 and J is aware he can’t linger, but he won’t ignore an outburst either:

“Tell everyone The Devil brought your Angel back !! ME, not The Batman!!!” the insane green haired man barks. “Not all heroes wear capes, huh?!” he addresses everyone as he places you on an empty bench and hurries outside, taking one last glance behind to see a weary Y/N barely opening her eyes that cannot focus.

And The Joker knows that after the events he whiteness too, The Angel of Gotham is in complete darkness again.

Also read: MASTERLIST

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Wattpad and AO3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #the joker suicide squad #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #mister j #mr. j #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #bruce wayne #batman #dc

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hysterialevi · 6 years ago

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Lotus Final Part (Cure Ending)

From Alfred’s POV

CRIME ALLEY

Gazing at Bruce in a sympathetic manner, I stood under the pouring rain as my rifle trembled in my grip, and I felt the weight of the world crushing my shoulders.

I couldn’t quite tell if it was selfishness, or perhaps just the mere lack of courage...but something in me absolutely refused to kill Bruce, regardless of how much I told myself it was the right thing to do.

Despite knowing everything he’d done this past week, I still saw him as my child...and that was how I’d forever see him, no matter the amount of crimes he committed.

I didn’t plan to allow him to continue his rampages, or let him run free, but I definitely wasn’t going to shoot him either. There had been enough murder in this godforsaken alley, and nothing was going to convince me to continue that tradition.

Death...was the last thing we needed right now.

“...No,” I finally said, shaking my head. “I won’t do it. I will not kill my son.”

Bruce fell silent for a moment and stared at me, clearly surprised by the decision. There was a strange hint of gratefulness in the way he looked at me, but also a tinge of disappointment.

He let out a defeated sigh.

“...There’s a thin line between mercy and cowardice, Alfred,” Bruce scolded. “Someday...you’ll have to let me go. Whether you like it or not.”

I put my rifle away and steadily helped Bruce up from the soaked ground, immediately pulling him into a meaningful embrace once he was on his feet.

“Someday,” I acknowledged, tightening my arms around the boy. “But not today. You don’t deserve death, and you certainly don’t deserve Arkham. We have a cure for you, Bruce. We can bring you back. We can give you a second chance.”

Bruce didn’t say anything in response, but I could tell he was thankful by the way he relaxed his head on my shoulder, and gently shut his eyes. It was unclear whether or not he approved of my choice, and I couldn’t deny that some part of me felt guilty for what he was about to discover once he was cured, but nonetheless, I was just relieved that the conflict between us had finally come to an end.

I held my son even closer, neither of us letting go as Lazarus uttered one last phrase.

“The dead don’t come back, Alfred.”

From Tiffany’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

GOTHAM GENERAL HOSPITAL

Navigating through the hospital’s corridors, I anxiously searched for Blake’s room as doctors scurried all over the place, frantically attending to the other patients who had also been injured the previous day.

Things had been stressful enough in the last few hours, what with Luke and my mother nearly being killed by Lazarus, and the city almost being destroyed...but now rumors were circling around that Blake was also on the brink of death.

Apparently, the man received a number of severe injuries from his fight with Bane -- and even though the Agency was able to save him from the beast -- he still wasn’t looking too good, despite their efforts.

Part of me reminded myself not to worry, considering I knew how strong Blake was...but at the same time, the thought of losing him terrified me. After all, this was the very same hospital where he and I witnessed Avesta’s life slip out of her grasp, and I wasn’t sure if I could go through that type of situation again.

With Alfred always being busy, Bruce losing his mind, Dad being gone, and Avesta getting killed...it felt like Blake was my only friend. The only person who I could go to for some peace and quiet. And now, he was knocking on death’s door as well.

I just prayed he didn’t disappear, too. Life was difficult enough trying to cope with all these other losses, and I didn’t know if I could handle one more life being dropped out of the world.

Slowing down to a halt, I finally reached Blake’s room which was located at the very end of the corridor, right next to a pair of tall windows that displayed quite a magnificent view of Gotham. There were many more people rushing around the city than usual, probably because the threat of Lazarus was gone now, and the sight made me suddenly realize how lifeless this place had been over the past week.

I had gotten so used to walking around dead, empty streets, and passing by buildings that looked damn-near abandoned, that I’d actually forgotten what Gotham was supposed to look like. It just seemed so...strange to see this place functioning like other cities.

But I guessed that was the price of working with the Agency, wasn’t it? My life would never be normal again, and neither would my family.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced at the bouquet of flowers in my hand and softly knocked on the door before walking through, only to find a half-dead Blake lying in a bed which had been neatly tucked in the center of the room.

There were multiple tubes connected to him, including a heart monitor, and judging by the collection of cards and balloons resting on a nearby end table, I wasn’t the first to visit him today. I quietly approached him, trying not to alert the man.

“Blake?” I whispered. “Are you awake?”

The agent’s eyes sluggishly opened to a slit, and a faint smile spread across his face at the sight of me.

“...Hey, Tiff,” he mumbled, lifting his head slightly. “I’m surprised to see you here. Figured the rest of the Agency would--” he let out a series of light coughs, “--would be dealing with Wayne all morning.”

I took a seat next to the bed.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “You and Alfred rescued my family yesterday. The least I could do is pay you a visit. How do you feel?”

Blake chuckled, his laugh a bit strained. “About as bad as I look. Honestly, it’s...it’s a miracle Bane didn’t kill me straight away. I’m just glad he didn’t g-get anyone else.”

His gaze travelled to the flowers.

“What’ve you got there?”

I shrugged, grinning at him. “Just a little something I brought along. But it looks like you have plenty of flowers already.”

“Well, no harm in having a few more.”

Reaching over to the end table, I added the bouquet to the already crowded surface as Blake watched me, clearly becoming weaker and weaker with every passing second. I gave him a concerned look.

“...Are you sure you’re okay, Blake?”

The man nodded.

“...Yeah,” he croaked in a dismissive tone. “I’ve been through worse. Much worse. I’ll...I’ll be okay.”

Despite his optimistic temperament though, it was clear as day that Blake didn’t believe in what he was saying. His expression of content slowly disappeared like a lightbulb going out, and was replaced by the face of a man who knew his life was over. It wasn’t exactly melancholy or fear, or even regret, but rather...a sense of finality.

The manner in which his eyes observed me -- it was his silent way of saying goodbye. He knew this would be the last time he’d ever get to see me, and so he savored every glimpse he got of the world around him, no matter how dull it was.

The folded cards, the vibrant flowers, the vast and sun-drenched view outside the window...he took it all in like a blind man experiencing sight for the first time. It was a moment I wished would never end, but also wished had never even started.

As if he could hear my thoughts, Blake suddenly brought his attention back to me and placed his hand over mine in an attempt to reassure me, just like Avesta did with him before she passed away.

“Tiffany,” he said at last, “the truth is...I’m not gonna make it.”

I frowned. “Don’t talk like that.”

The agent sighed. “Trust me, I’m not any happier about it than you are...but I’m not going to be here when that sun sets. I know it. I can...feel it. And I need someone to accept that, ‘cause these doctors certainly won’t.”

I leaned forward, looking Blake directly in the eye.

“And neither will I. You’re tough, Blake. You know that. When so many other people died this week, you were able to survive. You’re a fighter. So why give up now, when everything’s so close to getting back to normal?”

He didn’t appear convinced.

“Because that’s all my life is. Fighting. Just...one pointless battle after another. Death...around every corner.”

He gazed out the window for a moment, listening to the sound of birds chirping as the sun gradually floated higher in the sky.

“If I’m gonna die, I’d rather go out like this: in a setting of peace, surrounded by people I care about, and accompanied by my good friend.”

Blake turned to me, beaming in a fulfilled yet sorrowful way.

“Do me a solid and make sure Waller knows it’s not her fault, okay, Tiff? The Director can pretend she’s emotionless all she wants, but I know for a fact she’ll blame herself once I...once I...” his voice trailed off, diminishing with the morbid realization of what was to come in the near future, “...well, you know. Just tell her to not beat herself up about it. And you too, all right?”

I gently held Blake’s hand in return, reluctant to come to terms with the inevitable as tears began to gather.

“I...I don’t know what to do,” I confessed, my words slightly shaking. “There’s just so much happening...all at once. First my dad, then Bruce, then Iman, and now you? What am I supposed to do?”

Blake’s expression strengthened with fortitude, and for the first time in forever, he gave me a full smile, still gripping onto my hand as his eyes fluttered closed, and his heartbeat started to wither.

“Be strong,” he answered. “Your family’s going to need you after what they went through. And so is Bruce, now that he’s been cured. You’re all he has left, and god knows Gotham’s not going to support him anymore, so you need to stay strong. Not just for his sake, or for the sake of your family...but also for you.”

I considered what he said and stayed quiet in response, still unsure of how to react to the whole situation.

“Hey. Don’t worry about me,” he comforted, noticing my hesitation. “I’m on my way to see Avesta. This...this is what I’ve wanted all along. It’s going to be okay.”

He let his head sink into the pillow and glanced up at the ceiling, his hand falling limp as he took one final breath.

A permanent look of solace spread across his face.

“...It’s going...to be okay. I...I promise.”

With his last words out in the open, the heartbeat monitor suddenly emitted a dreadful, flat beep and broke the silence, sending me into a state of panic as I realized what just happened.

“...Blake?” I called out, softly shaking his body. “Blake, can you hear me? Blake!”

But it was too late. He was already gone.

Slinking back into my chair in defeat, I mournfully stared at the floor and remained frozen, crushed with grief and regret as the shock settled in.

I couldn’t believe it. He was...dead. He was actually dead. Just like that...within the blink of an eye. And I was still here, the only person who’d ever carry the memory of Blake’s last moments in this world. It felt...surreal. Like a bad dream I couldn’t wake up from.

Blinking away the tears that clung onto my lashes, I rose from my seat and looked at Blake’s motionless body, my ears mindlessly blocking out the monitor’s beeping as the world effortlessly carried on outside.

“Goodbye, Blake,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “And thank you. For everything. I won’t forget you. I promise.”

From Alfred’s POV

A COUPLE HOURS LATER

GCPD

Entering the police station with haste, I eagerly searched for Waller as I snaked my way through the crowds of people, focusing on one thing and one thing only: finding Bruce.

Mere moments ago, I received a phone call from the Director informing me that Bruce had officially been cured, and that Lotus was finally out of his system. According to Waller, the boy had next to no memory of the things he’d done, or what happened to Gotham, and the burden of explaining all these tragedies fell onto her.

While I was ecstatic Bruce was back to his old self, I certainly didn’t envy Waller’s position, and could only wonder how this would affect the man’s mental health now that he was aware of his crimes. The idea of having my son back both relieved and broke my heart at the same time, and I wanted nothing more than to see him in person.

As I navigated my way through the precinct however, a surprisingly familiar face stood in my way and greeted me, closing the distance between us before I could venture any further.

“Mr. Pennyworth,” he acknowledged. “It’s good to see you.”

I stopped in my tracks, shaking the man’s hand.

“Commissioner Gordon? I thought you were in hospital.”

The policeman gestured to the cane supporting him, clearly still in some amount of pain.

“The doctors weren’t too thrilled about me leaving, lemme tell you. But considering how many of our people are injured or...even dead, it just didn’t feel right sitting in place, y’know? I had to be here, especially now that Bruce is cured. It’s my duty.”

I hopped onto the subject. “Speaking of which, you wouldn’t happen to know where Bruce is, would you? I’d like to see him.”

Gordon beckoned me, leading me down a certain corridor as he explained things along the way, limping slightly with each step.

“Of course. He’s in one of the holding cells, and awaiting trial. I think it’ll do some good if you talk to him. He’s...” Jim let out a despondent sigh, “...I’ll be honest. He’s not doing too well.”

I quirked a brow. “How so?”

Gordon slid a fatigued hand down his face.

“Things have been rough this morning. You see, we administered the cure to Bruce as soon as you brought him back last night, and he fell asleep once the drug started taking effect -- passed out for quite a while, actually. When he woke up though...and you’re not gonna believe this: he thought he was still in the lab.”

My eyes sprung open with surprise. “The lab? His memory is that far back?”

“Yup,” he confirmed, “but Bruce had a feeling something bad had happened, just like Montoya after she shot Falcone...” Gordon paused for a little after mentioning Renee, his shoulders slouching slightly with gloom.

He cleared his throat and regained composure, carrying on the conversation as he picked up his pace a bit.

“Waller had to explain everything to him,” he continued. “Listed off all his crimes. All his charges. And then he saw me walk by, cane and everything, and immediately knew he was responsible. I’ve seen some broken men in my lifetime, Mr. Pennyworth, but none quite on Bruce’s level. The man’s destroying himself with guilt. Frankly, I’m not sure if the cure helped or hurt him.”

“Sounds like you disapprove.” I concluded.

“No, not at all,” Gordon corrected. “I’m actually the one who suggested curing Bruce to the Director. It’s just...difficult to see the aftermath. I know Bruce is truly a good man, but now he thinks he’s the devil himself. That’s why I think you should see him. Bruce needs to speak with someone he knows he can trust.”

“And I appreciate you allowing me to talk with him. Though, I’m not sure he might feel the same.”

Gordon pointed ahead and brought my attention to the holding cell he mentioned before, staying behind as I continued on.

“Well, you can ask him yourself. He’s right up there. But be careful. He may be cured, but he’s not quite himself just yet.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Commissioner.”

The man turned on his heel, preparing to take his leave.

“Don’t mention it. Oh, and stick to ‘Jim.”

Wobbling away to another section of the station, Gordon left me alone to deal with Bruce as I slowly approached the holding cells, barely able to contain myself when the boy himself came into view.

Bruce was sitting on a small bench with his head lowered, and I could see him fiddling with his hands -- the type of behavior he always displayed when he was anxious or frightened. His clothes were rather disheveled, and the closer I got, the more I could hear him muttering to himself.

Like Gordon said earlier, it was...rather hard to watch.

Stepping up to the bars, I straightened my suit and braced myself, completely unsure of how this meeting would go. After all, there was no telling how Bruce felt about me now, and I highly doubted it would be as easy communicating with him as before. There had been so much conflict between us, so many mixed emotions. Only lord knew how we were going to get back on track.

Folding my hands behind my back, I adjusted my glasses and cleared my throat, suddenly feeling a bit tentative to start this conversation.

“...Bruce?”

His head perked up at the sound of his name, revealing a pair of anguished, bloodshot eyes. He didn’t appear reassured in any way even though I was there, and it wasn’t too long before his head drooped again, hanging low like a dying flower.

“...You should’ve pulled the trigger,” Bruce condemned, his voice low and vehement. “You should’ve ended it. I don’t deserve to be here.”

Without even thinking, I tried to reach out to my son, only to remember the wall of bars separating us.

“Bruce...” I said, “it’s not your fault.”

That only seemed to anger him more.

“How can you say that?” He fired back. “All the people I’ve killed, all the lives I’ve ruined...this city is a living hell because of me. Dammit, why didn’t Avesta listen to me...? Why didn’t she just kill me like I asked...?”

“Because she wanted to save you.” I explained. Though, Bruce’s mind was difficult to sway.

“Well, I’m here,” he replied bluntly, unconvinced. “But at what cost? Avesta’s dead, the mayor’s dead, Montoya’s dead...and now, they’ve even just received word that Agent Blake has passed away as well. All of these innocent people are gone because of me...and you’re telling me it’s not my fault?”

“It’s not,” I reiterated. “The Lotus virus did these things to you. It turned you into ‘Lazarus.’ Your actions were not your own. I know you would never truly harm an innocent person...and you know it, too.”

But nothing I said seemed to console the boy. If anything, he only grew more dispirited, and I could practically see the motivation draining from him.

“It’s not just about the people I’ve killed,” Bruce admitted. “I’ve also been told that John’s rotting away in Arkham Asylum because I betrayed him. The one person who still loved me is right back where he started because of me.”

I paused. “John’s in love with you?”

“And the feeling’s mutual,” he confirmed. “Though, I doubt John holds any love for me anymore. I’ve ruined it. Just like everything else in my life. ”

“Bruce,” I said, gripping onto one of the bars, “your life isn’t over yet. In fact, your life was torn away from you, and that’s why I decided to give you the cure. Because I believe you deserve a second chance. Because I believe Batman isn’t dead.”

That got his attention.

Bruce’s mouth parted in astonishment, and a sense of atonement took over him.

“You think...I could still be Batman...?” He asked. “Even after all this?”

“Perhaps not in the exact same way,” I replied, “but there are still plenty of people in Gotham who need saving. Since Lazarus was the GCPD’s top priority for so long, other lesser-known criminals have flown under the radar and are still wreaking havoc across the city. What better way for you to make amends than to rescue the very people Lazarus once terrorized? If you could redeem yourself after the scandal about your father, I know you can pick yourself up after this, Bruce.”

As if on queue, a nearby television suddenly began to broadcast the breaking news as police officers rushed all over the station and Jack Ryder appeared on the screen, frantically rambling on about an incident involving none other...than the Joker himself.

“Well, folks, it seems like our moment of peace and quiet was short-lived, considering that Arkham Asylum is now in chaos since John Doe, also known as ‘The Joker,’ has broken free. Numerous injures have already been reported, including one casualty among the asylum’s staff, and according to witnesses, the perpetrator is heading straight for the city. He even left a disturbing recording on an officer’s body camera, baiting the vigilante who has been presumed dead for so long. Warning for the viewers out there: what you’re about to watch is extremely graphic.”

The news switched over to a dimly-lit video as the camera shook with John’s erratic steps, eventually reversing to film the man’s face. He was covered in splatters of fresh blood -- most likely from the casualty Ryder just mentioned -- and his signature cackle was the only thing that could be heard aside from the police sirens blaring in the distance.

John grinned widely at the camera, glaring at the audience in a feral manner.

“Hey there, Batsy...!” He taunted in a singsong voice. “Miss me? Hehe! It’s been a long time since we last saw each other. Not a day goes by where I don’t reminisce about our fun times together. Oh, lemme tell you, things have been awfully dull in Arkham recently. None of the inmates are quite as fiery as you, and the fights I’ve had there pale in comparison to the rivalry between us.”

His tone took a darker turn. “I know you’re out there watching this, Batman. Reveling in your freedom. A freedom that you stole from me! Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did, old pal. You led me to believe we were two threads in the same stitch...and for what? To stab me in the back later on?! Old habits die hard, I guess, huh?”

The camera zoomed in on his bloodied, wrinkled smirk.

“Let’s face it. You and I will always be enemies. A guy like you...could never be friends with someone like me. Instead, you’ll always just be the dark, benevolent vigilante chasing me through the night...and I’ll be the knife in your side. Isn’t that right...buddy?”

A morbid chuckle escaped him.

“Well, you better come catch me quick. You thought Riddler was bad? Penguin? Lady Arkham? None of them knew you like I do. I know just how to press those buttons!”

He let out a hysterical laugh, waving a casual goodbye to the camera.

“We are going to have so...much...fun! ‘Til next time, Batsy...! HAHAHA!”

The video cut off right away, leaving me and Bruce to our thoughts as even more cops bolted out of the station, eager to find the missing inmate whilst phones went off all over the precinct.

Meanwhile, something about Bruce seemed different ever since watching the recording. There was a newfound resolve surrounding him, and his brow was furrowed in determination as he stared at the front doors in thought. I would’ve recognized that face anywhere.

His eyes wandered over to me.

“Alfred?” Bruce said, sounding significantly more adamant than before. I felt my heart grow with excitement.

“...Yes?”

“I need you to find Waller. Those officers aren’t taking Joker down alone, and god knows what he has planned for them. They’re going to get killed! They need help.”

I beamed at him, filled to the brim with confidence.

“Of course. I’ll find her right away.”

“Thank you, Alfred. For everything. I mean it.”

Walking off to search for the Director, I glanced behind my shoulder one last time and smiled proudly at Bruce, my emotions all over the place now that my son was finally back.

“You’re welcome...Batman.”

THE END

Thank you for reading Lotus.

#telltale games #telltale batman #the enemy within #bruce wayne #john doe #joker #batjokes #bruce wayne x joker #juce #fanfic #story

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inappropriatefangirlneeds · 7 years ago

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Gotham s4ep5 “The Blade's Path” Personal Review

“Don´t worry people will talk”

Warning spoilers below

* The Episode in which no one can do their Job without bloody CRITICS. HARVEY BULLOCK thinks he is doing his job freeing the licensed criminals JIM GORDON brought in thinking he is doing his job. Both disagree with each other. “That's above my pay grade, pal. I just, uh, bust the bad guys.” Then there is also ALFRED PENNYWORTH and Jim who still want each other to do their jobs (well). They still are in nagging mode but team up to find Bruce.

* There is a place people named “slaughter swamp”, people made a sign writing “slaughter swamp” on it?! Also those people kill a helpless patient that´s one thing but do they have to be joking jerks about it? Yeah I know some people make jerky jokes to cope ??!?! * SOLOMON GRUNDY approaching guys outside the swamp. What is this Frankenhulk?! The colours of the scene, the “don´t hurt the monster” rhetoric, the children´s (?) song, the fire that all reminds me of Frankenstein adaptions. Weird. * Why is the guy he hit asking “who are you” with his last breath? Is he expecting to report him to the police after he wakes up? That is a question that troubles Grundy, and yeah I get that it emphasizes this issue for the audience but what reason has this guy to ask this?

* BRUCE WAYNE & ALFRED PENNYWORTH have a dispute about who understands what. “I see.” “No. You clearly don't.” // “Taking a life, never mind how justified, will lead you down a darker path than you could ever possibly imagine. I know. I've been down it. You understand me, Master Bruce?” “I understand.” * “It is my FAULT” Bruce is luckily still taking the blame for Alex death, he´s not overlooking his involvement in it. But yeah Alfred & Jim are right it´s still Ra´s who is the murderer.

* ALFRED PENNYWORTH & JIM GORDON are a joy to watch. “Look I am telling you this as a courtesy.” Pretty sure Jim can think of some better curtsies .. someone write this please..... Anyway once Bruce run away to break into Blackgate they team up. Alfred can even make me like the overdone has 500 weapons in places you don´t wanna know about joke enjoy but dear .. that choice of words .. same Jim, same. Alfred keeps up Bruce´s Billionaire Brat Act up by suggesting he might have bribed his way into the prison, otherwise you know .. people might start to think he could have climbed over a wall. The prison guards show them round but just the all the wrong ways. * And you know I´d really like to have seen Jim´s time in Blackgate to have had more impact reflection and introspection wise but I take what I can get they at least reference back to that incident that week and quite well. Jim is like “Hello I´ve been here before” and none of you assholes punched me during that time something is wrong.

* “My Name is Bruce Wayne” that might have gotten him out of breaking into a prison but unluckily the guards are on Ra´s team so that name verhallt wie Schall und Rauch. That attitude of “my name´s gonna buy me free” is insufferable but on the other hand if you have that card why not play it to save your ass. * “You weak foolish boy” You weird freakish mummy .. RA´S AL GUHL gets stabbed by Bruce just like he wanted. The inscription, just as Bruce suspected does not mean the knife is to be used by but against him (“it is intended for the one who has bathed in the healing waters”) just that he is wrong about Ra´s wanting the knife to keep it from being used against him. Immortality is a curse. Ra´s want´s to be stabbed so badly he even threatens the not yet existent loved ones of Bruce. (And that´s Cersei levels cruel that actually gave me chills .. nice) But if this was his plan along I´m pretty sure there would have been easier ways to accomplish that, and I would not have needed to sit through that plot. The talk about an heir falls flat. And his death was strangely anticlimactic. (Okay except that last bit where his lower jaw dropped a bit .. I giggled) I know that could have been to focus on Bruce and the effect this deed has on him. This was not a big boss battle to be the fulminant end of a long fight between two foes no spectacle on purpose because this should shed light on the characters .. but .. it´s Gotham .. I suppose that´s not yet over ..

* BARBARA KEAN & Ra´s relationship should be over before we actually saw it!? Also she seemed to enjoy his company but also expected a reward, of course that´s not a contradiction per se but opens questions. Also just tell me what he gave Barbara! Please let it be something awesome and something she enjoys! Naive? Probably ..

* “Just because you know you're capable of doing something doesn't mean it has to happen again.” Okay but is that JIM GORDON missing the point and projecting?! I still don´t believe that the Virus in Jim´s ear that told him he is a killer actually brought out the worst in him (Jim just isn´t, he´s stepping over bodies if he deems it necessary but he´s not a bloodthirsty killer who enjoys it) rather it voiced a fear he has (stored very very very deep down in him, that doubt he pushes away about his deeds). Which would absolutely explain that line because otherwise he´d just kind of miss the point. The upsetting thing is not Bruce suddenly turning murderous, the upsetting thing is having ended a life. But I see how Jim “criminal´s lives aren´t worth much especially not if weighed against non criminal lives” Gordon might have issues with that concept. * “Now, you may not feel like you're that kid anymore, but I know that you are. One who believes in doing good. In fighting for what's right. Who will do anything to keep the people he loves safe. Nothing that happened today changes that.” And that is Jim Gordon after browsing tumblr and liking that “be the person that you would have needed” post (which is a wonderful one no shade on that).

*“I´m not the hero Gotham needs” BRUCE WAYNE feels guilty about being responsible for Alex´s death and taking a life. He wants to burn his suit. That´s the Bruce Wayne I wanna see! ALFRED (needs another slap with the newspaper) PENNYWORTH can´t let him do that. He claims he was wrong, Bruce can make a difference, the whole thing has become bigger than preparing for Ra´s return. As soon as Bruce feels ready. Well at least he has the curtsy to wait that´s something I guess but that´s the point where Alfred´s guidance crosses the seriously shady line. If Bruce wants to step back you let him and you let him without interfering or paving the way back. * “This will be waiting for you” Uhm yeah, if he still fits into it that is .. kid is growing fast. But the added that Alfred will wait for him too was sweet.

* “Come on, you people have pills for everything!” Yeah I wish. I so wish. EDWARD NYGMA is way to adorable, and funny. Omg those scenes. He is too good. “Fogginess of the mind. Decreased capacity to think ten steps ahead. Inability to solve riddles” Why do I relate with those symptoms. Oh and I really love that for once it is shown that getting stabbed through the hand or something like that hurts like a lot. * Why has Edward´s suit Polka Dot lining ?! * “I´ll even consider a natural remedy” Ed you had three bottles of that in your place! (St.Jonn’s Wort, Echinacea & Ginkgo leaf from N a t u r e ’s Answer)

* I´m not sure if I like that they brought Butch / SOLOMON GRUNDY back but at least the interaction with Ed was entertaining. “I can´t even help myself” * Ed doesn´t want to help him until he sees use for Grundy. I´d really like to see them bonding a bit over the “Who am I” issue but I doubt that will happen. * Grundy calling Ed “smart” was too precious! (And some niceness that´s not manipulative for once) * Ed´s plan: muscle > money > smart ( > memory ) I´m not sure if he intends to keep his promise but I´m quite sure that lying to Grundy about his and Butch´s friendship will come back to bite him in his green ass. * Is CHERRY a cousin or something of JERI? * How, why, does Ed know Cherry´s place? Would he have found a probably underground fight club that fast in his state? I´m assuming no, he must have been there before. Watching ? He looked delighted when entering ..

* LESLIE THOMPKINS Leslie, honey what are you doing? I doubt she would not have gotten a fine nice job somewhere. Why is she in this place. She does not seem to be happy about it even the slightest bit. Nor does she seem to care about anyone´s well being. She´s still a doctor, at least let her keep that part of her identity? Okay I´m in rant mode not even knowing where they are going with her character, let´s postpone that a bit.

* Does anyone know what song it is around 10:50 that can be heard playing in THE ICEBERG LOUNGE ?! It seriously gives me flashbacks to The Stranglers: No more Heroes in 1x15. (Didn’t I have a gifset for this? Have I posted that? Did I make it? Am I imagining things? No I think I totally did something with the no more heroes .. where is it) I think I´d actually like visiting the Iceberg Lounge if that musical theme continues.

*“Numbers Mr. Penn” Am I becoming a fan of Mr. PENN?! I think I am. I´d really like to steal the man´s job though. I know barely anything about statistics but I can learn and I´m good with lists. I can do this. Penguin must like/cherish Penn since he kept him around after losing the crime list to Bruce. Or is this already known? Also did they really name that character Mr. Pen(n)?!

* OSWALD COBBLEPOT & SOFIA FALCONES interactions are a joy! They are even more joy if you just enjoy them for a moment and think they could actually be allies. Their banter is wonderful “100%” “Now you´re just rubbing it in” And I love how Sofia is picking up the Penguin characteristics “send those outlying criminal elements scurrying back under your umbrella” It makes me really think her choice of words with Jim was very deliberate too! * Oswald letting Penn read the “kill Sofia” to do list point was wonderful .. “Add a question mark” * Sofia offers Penguin the support of her name, they shall eat in public. She even got Gertrud´d recipe. Where did she find the recipe ?! How, Where ?! How?! No srsly, I´m usually a fan of just let things like that slide for the sake of enjoyment but that bugs me. * Someone tasting his food like that would only work if he has some magic ability to taste poison (was he someone from Indian Hill .. ) but his face looked too worried for that * Ghost Goulash. Ugh. Oswald is done with the taste of it. Sofia not knowing if he liked it or not was sweet but I did not like his reaction. That´s just so over the top. What is this ratatouille? Also you´ll never get a recipe on spot like that. They would have needed to know where she bought the ingredients and probably used the same pots with greasy patina and in general there´s just so much going on with cooking that can´t be in a recipe and stuff and things. Also there´s just so many ways Goulash can taste. I don´t like it, the scene I mean.

* Sofia visits him at his club again. I did not quite get why door guy let her in ?! “There was only one person in my whole life who ever did things for me without wanting something in return. And that was my mother.” “Then I envy you. My father never helped anyone unless it benefited him. And eventually it drove away everyone who loved him.” This is not only putting her in a light she wants to be in it also doubles as warning that would support Oswald seeking a relationship with her. Actually it´s three things at once. Girl you are so good. And for some reason I like that not so sleek outfit so much better.

* When Sofia first got in the Iceberg Lounge she saw Oswald putting away the Ice from his injury. When she is there the second time she sees him visibly struggling with pain. She offers a massage and advice about treatment laced with another emotional story about her childhood and her harsh father. Moreover she mirrors Gertrud´s singing with her humming. * This is LIZA 2.0 and 50% of me want Oswald to see through this. I found it odd that he would let Sofia see him in pain like that, that he would let her touch and see his injury from which even he himself turns his face away. He has never let it get into his way in the slightest and suddenly he is dropping his guard like that?? So that half of me would be delighted to see that this is already Oswald manipulating Sofia right back! Three steps ahead Oswald from Season 1 ! Then there is 50% of me who would actually be delighted so see Oswald believing that someone can be kind to him. Oswald being able to be vulnerable and open like that. Oswald accepting comfort. Sofia and Oswald as a team would be sweet, I think they could really add to each other, in another time, in another life ..

* Were there umbrellas on his socks ?!

#gotham #gotham meta #gotham s4ep5 The Blade's Path #mine Gotham full episode reviews #gotham language

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