#should say jason and steph are still only like 1 to 2 years apart in age here

[oifaaa]

hot take the only bat who both could and WOULD do the red hood thing better than jason is steph, partially because he thinks it's hilarious and secretly bails her out of whatever trouble she gets in that she can't handle solo. tim hates it, tries to out-hood them for a week, and immediately cringefails himself straight to jail. or the hospital. or both.

Ngl thought we were still talking about this in a reverse robin setting to begin with and it just sounded so cute like

[intriq]

Letters - Alfred

after the reader's death, in a time after part 1 and before part 2, the batfam receives therapy and as part of their therapy, they write grief letters to you, the reader.

Italics are used to represent smudged words due to tears

‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎┌──═━┈━═──┐

Dear Little Moon,

I hope you’ve been… well. I hope things are doing better for you, certainly much better than they were a few months ago.

Better than how things have been for me, at least.

The others don’t stop by the manor much anymore. Cass sticks to your old bedroom, Duke seems to wander aimlessly, Jason and Steph seem to visit your grave just as much as Tim and Barbara have lately.

But most of all, Bruce is always in his study or in his room, and Dick? He hasn’t come around once since you’ve died. I’ve only overheard he’s been locking himself inside his apartment in Bludhaven.

Everyone thinks he’s punishing himself for your death, and he certainly is. But if anyone should be punished for your death, I’d say it should be me.

I.. I was the one that pulled the trigger, after all. The one that took you away from this world, as dark as Gotham may be.

You always did find a way to be some sort of light for everyone around you, even when you were a child. I always wondered how you could appear so happy all the time despite how often you cried because of your nightmares.

I spend most of my time keeping busy. Cooking meals Bruce won’t eat, cleaning again and again. Sometimes spend a few hours out of my day looking through pictures of you.

I remember how, on your tenth birthday, you wanted to go to the zoo. The one that recently opened in Metropolis, specifically.

You’d even practically begged for Bruce to come with, and I can still remember just how often you’d dragged him around to see all the things you wanted to see. While he may have seemed unamused, he was certainly happy to keep you entertained.

I even remember how long you spent looking for a gift for Bruce’s birthday that year, too. His sixteenth birthday and you wanted to make sure it was a gift he’d really like.

Truly it didn’t quite matter. He would’ve liked anything you got him, even if it was some toy from the store or anything else you quite liked at that age.

I keep most photos the manor has up of you in my room now. Ever since your funeral, ever since your death, no one’s been really able to walk in through the manors front entrance.

When they do, they usually sit there for a few minutes and stare at those photos. Or just shut their eyes and briskly walk past.

Do you remember all the times we’d spend in the manors kitchen when you were younger? How often we’d make something- anything- to make you feel better?

I certainly do.

I remembered how often you’d get at least something everywhere. Whether it was flour, sugar, or even eggs, you always managed to make a mess. But that’s fine, because I could never tire out of cleaning those up with you.

I would give anything, in fact, to have to clean up flour or cake batter off the kitchen floor at some random hour in the night again.

I would give anything to come downstairs to the manors kitchen and see you baking because you were stressed over school or something at work. I would give anything to have to wake you up in the morning because you slept through your alarm.

I’d give anything and everything to be able to talk to you again, my little moon.

But I also wonder if you’d resent me. Do you hate me, for having to kill you? Do you hate me as much as I hate myself? Would you ever be able to forgive me for what I did one day? Or would you tell me that it was okay, that I did what I had to?

I so desperately wish that things could be different. I want them to be. You used to jokingly say we wouldn’t be able to do function as a family without you, and truly? You were right. We can’t function. Much less look each other in the eyes.

The family dinners you used to love so much have been dwindling. Becoming less and less often, with less and less of the others showing up. But I think it’s because they can’t help but stare at your empty seat when they do.

I still sometimes forget you aren’t here for dinner anymore. Still make your favorite dish, set up a plate just for you in your seat, only to be reminded. I think that’s why Bruce doesn’t eat outside of his study now.

Bruce feels like he failed you. Jason, Barbara, and most of all, Dick, too. But if anyone failed you, it was me. I could’ve tried to look for other options before killing you, but I didn’t.

Even though the question of “what could we have even done” is there, I can’t help but think I could have done something different. Something that didn’t have the outcome of me having to watch you, my child, get buried before me.

There are so, so many things I still wish to see. I want to see you grow up more, see you achieve all the things you dreamed. But now I won’t even have that chance. You won’t even have the chance to one day see Damian graduate, which is something I know you were excited to see. Nor will you get to see Cassandra graduate, either.

They’ll probably still have a seat reserved for you anyway. Right in the front row. I’m positive they’ll still mention you in their graduation speech, just as the others did.

I’m sure they will remember you for a long, long time. I know we will all remember you for a long time. You are nowhere near as replaceable as you used to think you were.

It’s a fact that you aren’t replaceable to me, either, my child. My little moon.

-Alfred Pennyworth

‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎└──═━┈━═──┘

[bigskydreaming]

Hey, any comic recs to ensure that I get Dick Grayson character right? Other batfam included, if you're willing. I'm trying to make sure I don't write a character completely ooc, because that drives me up the WALL when I read that. However, since I dubbed you the #1 Dick Grayson person, I thought I'd ask you to make sure I do him justice rather than a smear campaign or something lol! Thanks! ALSO TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT THE TITANS SHOW! That's all xD

LOL thanks I appreciate it, but while I’m good for the rants, for actual comics recs I would go to the likes of @northoftheroad, @hood-ex, and @nightwingmyboi because they’re a lot better than I am at knowing where to find specific stuff and comprehensive reading lists! I tend to jump all over the place in terms of my go-to comics for Dick.....I’m always on about Robin: Year One but I’m like eh Nightwing: Year One is pretty trash tbh. I prefer pre-Flashpoint continuity overall but I did enjoy some of the early Nightwing Rebirth stuff and before that the pre-Forever Evil New 52 stuff had some good beats. But for the most part, my favorite Dick Grayson tends to be him as a member of teams like the Titans....he shines most in ensembles, I think, because his strengths ultimately are that like...he gets people, he knows how people work, and he knows how to get the most out of the people he’s with, how to make people gel and get in sync and become more than just the sum of their parts.

(Speaking of nightwingmyboi, haven’t seen them posting in awhile, anyone know what they’re up to? Hope everything’s okay!)

Which brings me to the problems with the Titans show. There’s a lot I like about it - Anna Diop and Ryan Potter in particular - and a lot I was never gonna like about it - I’m heavy on the Ugh why must Dick Grayson be a cop ever why is that a thing make it stop. And so while I don’t think Brenton Thwaites does like, a bad job with the role or anything, there was always kinda a ceiling on how attached to or invested in his take on the character I was ever gonna reach.

But Season 2. Oof. Let’s talk about Season 2, and how so many of the problems with it are identical to the problems that surround Dick in the comics, but also aren’t limited to just his character or DC and just as equally show up in all kinds of media. Like, I could have (and probably did) offer an identical rant about the role of Scott McCall in TW’s S5.

The problem is one I’ve kinda taken to calling in my head “The Ensemble Lone Wolf Effect.”

This is when writers have a character they nominally want to be part of an ensemble....but that they repeatedly go back to the well of “this character should however spend most of their time on their own, or are more natural on their own, or just wants to be on their own, or also sometimes they just deserve to be on their own cuz they suck for Reasons we decline to specify.”

But its that thing of wanting it both ways....believing a character honestly NEEDS to be a loner or off on their own for the sake of their story, but also still wanting to utilize them as part of an ensemble, not willing to actually MAKE them a solo character, and so it kinda creates this never-ending feedback loop wherein they pay lip service to the character being part of an ensemble, but that’s never really on display, which creates a lot of unnecessary conflict among characters that’s to NONE of their benefits.

(And honestly in the comics, you could apply this to pretty much all the Batfam at times...not just Dick. They do it with Bruce ALL the time, they’re doing it with Damian right now, did it with Tim with Red Robin, Jason most of the time he’s not with the Outlaws and Cass most of the time she’s not with Babs or Steph or the Outsiders. As well as Babs herself at times).

Basically what I’m talking about here is like....so much of the drama in S2....and specifically the parts that most every fan I saw had issues with....came about not organically, because it made sense for the characters to behave that way, but solely in order to launch a specific plot, that the writers clearly wanted for S2:

And that was Dick Grayson off on his own, at his lowest, facing his demons on a solo journey of self-discovery the writers clearly deemed necessary before he could find himself as Nightwing and rise to his most heroic self.

Now the thing is....this isn’t inherently a bad plot or a problem. The problem lies in how they went about it.

Because rather than looking at the overall story and saying okay, that’s what we want to do with Dick Grayson, that’s what we want for HIS story, now how do we get that and where do we take it from there, rather than looking at that as just a STARTING point, and engineering a plot that grows OUT of that.....

The writers just started out by viewing that as an ENDPOINT, and reverse engineered a way to get Dick TO that point first and foremost....at the expense of so many characters who then basically turned on him and held him solely responsible for the things many of them also had a hand in....purely to get him off on his own and isolated.

But that was never necessary!

Because Dick’s character contains multitudes when it comes to guilt and self-blame, everyone knows that. He never needed anyone else to blame him for what happened to Joey because he blamed himself. So the second they conceived of the plot “Slade wants revenge for something Dick at least blames himself for”.....they had all the ingredients needed for Dick to decide proactively that the best way to protect everyone was to put distance between him and them, that he should try and hunt down Slade on his own, solve this between just the two of them.

And that should have been the STARTING point, for that narrative journey of self-exploration, not that journey resulting as an ENDPOINT in and of itself from Dick being FORCED into a kind of isolation by the others all blaming him.

Because now see what ripple effects result:

Now, the other characters are just as able to focus on their own individual storylines as they were in the show, with the additional concern of wanting to ACTUALLY find Dick and figure out what’s going on with him or tell him they still want to help....without this in any way needing to distract them from their own storylines, practically speaking, or cut into Dick’s narrative alone-time, because as part of the equation you ALSO have Slade, who has his own wants and agendas, not to mention tactics. And Slade’s perfectly capable of and willing to work with others, or utilize the long game, or engage in a game of cat and mouse as a distraction...there are numerous ways that you could engineer a plot FROM these motivations that allows him to keep the rest of the Titans distracted and even targeted individually, without allowing them to group back up with Dick or Dick to even know that they’re in danger and that his attempts to avoid that backfired.

You want the characters isolated and divided? The PLOT can do that for you. You don’t need the characters to do that to themselves.

IMO, most if not all stories are meant to advance characters, first and foremost. Take Characters A-Z and leave them different from how you found them. Move them to a different position in their lives as much as anything else, from where they began. The goal is character DEVELOPMENT.

What this means, in my book, is that the plot should serve the characters, NOT the other way around. The plot should grow FROM the characters and what they would or would not do....the characters should never have to be forced to FIT INTO a plot.

That’s backwards.

There shouldn’t be any need to reverse engineer a certain starting point, characterwise.

Just like....start the plot, plotwise....and from the moment you first introduce a single plot element, prioritize how would the characters react and BUILD from there.

The only engineering you should need to do is how to get to an eventual END point....which is still all about the forward momentum, not backing your way into anything.

Its one thing to have an endgoal for your plot, a point in character or narrative development that you want characters to reach. But its all about perspective. About keeping that what you’re working towards rather than something that you like, have to reach before you can even really BEGIN.

Which is what Titans S2 did. The real GOAL of the season in terms of Dick’s storyline, was his solo journey of self-discovery. But there’s a million different ways they could have LAUNCHED that journey, without it having to be the forced and contrived outcome of events and character decisions that literally only existed to initiate a journey that never required a forced initiation.

And so all this narrative energy gets utterly wasted and expended on stuff that it just flat out doesn’t need to be spent on in the first place....instead of just putting that same energy to use building forward-facing storylines for ALL the characters, that don’t require contrived spats of disharmony when the goal of such moments isn’t even the disharmony but rather just that they’re kept apart, the end RESULT of the disharmony.

Imagine what S2 could have built if instead of wasting time, characterization and energy on getting to a point they could have simply started from if they’d simply looked at it that way and chosen to just....start. If they’d applied all that to building across the board, everyone’s story in service to their own character first and foremost, no tangled feedback loops making characters regress or cycle through the same behavior or narrative positionings over and over again in order to not get in each other’s way or cross paths at a time when the show didn’t want them to cross paths....because rather than make all these characters work at cross purposes, they’re all on the same page, they still want the same things....you’re simply engineering from their own natural characterizations and organic decisions and reactions, ways the PLOT can be utilized as a TOOL, to keep them moving forward in their own respective chapters, WITHOUT their characters having to be bent out of their natural shapes or forced into niches that don’t really suit them, just to keep them, PREVENT them, from more naturally or organically making a choice or action that would ‘get in the way’ of the plot.

Bottom line......the plot is supposed to be there to advance the characters, because the characters are what we come to stories for. The characters are who we invest in, relate to, ROOT for.

The characters aren’t there to advance the plot. We’re not here to yell yeah, I really hope the writers do whatever it takes with characters, no matter how backwards or unnatural it seems, just to get that sweet sweet and oh so specific ending we want that is in no way dependent on how invested or not we ACTUALLY are in the characters by the time it arrives, in order for it to actually be effective or not!

Lol. Y’know?

So yeah, that’s my biggest gripe with Titans so far. I’m still eager to see what happens between Kory and her sister, and although I’m not thrilled it seems to be becoming Batfam Straight Outta Gotham rather than like, Titans: The Show, I admit I am curious about what take they’ll go with for Babs. As I still pretty vividly recall that weird as hell Birds of Prey show the CW or UPN or WB or whatever it was at the time did for one season, where Babs was honestly not terribly adapted despite the show otherwise bearing like, zero in common with any existing DC property or character (do not even get me STARTED on their takes on Dinah and Helena, no, blehrrible, those were bad, those were like super bad)....anyway, I’m kinda curious even if it wouldn’t have been my choice for what direction the show should take. Not that I have a specific one in mind, just, yeah. And I also kinda would not hate if we got a new Roy Harper now, to replace the not!Roy of Arrow, because I don’t know him, no seriously, who is that, its not Roy Harper.

[itzagothamcitysiren]

Welcome to the Family

I’ve always struggled finding someone who I think would make a good Damian. I love the voice actor from the DCAU, and even the kid who did the voice in the Harley show lol, but live action wise I’ve never really settled on a kid I’d think would do a really good job.  I’d love to know everyone’s own fan casting and who they would think would make a good Damian. :)  

Mother’s Day pt.2          

  Damian couldn’t stop himself from watching the whole scene play out in front of him, cursing Drake as he knew that this was his plan all along. Drake wanted to rub it in his face no matter how hard he would deny it when Damian confronted him on it later. The bitter taste of the sweat was all Damian could taste as he slowly began to peel off his costume after a long and tiring night of patrolling Gotham City. His eyes darted from person to person, trying to keep the sudden annoyance down in the pit of his stomach.

           His father stood off near the batcomputer, slowly getting ready to call it a night, overlooking some files. His father had his cowl off, the tiredness of a long night out in the city showing on his face. A little ways away stood his sister, politely excepting the water bottle Alfred was now handing out to each of them. He started to head towards the pair to retrieve his own but halted. Drake approached them, clearly hiding something behind his back, underneath his cape. He turned around, simmering but kept listening as Drake began to speak.

           “Hey, staying the night?” Tim cleared his throat as he approached Halley, a hint of hopefulness reaching his voice.

           The girl chugged her water bottle, capping it off with a sigh. The cold liquid felt good running down her throat. Placing the near empty bottle on a nearby desk she turned to give Tim her full attention. With a smile, she leaned up against the desk, her muscles sore. “Nah, I have to head to the library first thing tomorrow, finish up my term paper.”  

           “I can help you. Use the library here,” Tim frowned, offering his help. He hadn’t seen his sister as much as he’d like over the past few months. She’d been busy with her last year of college and the internship she started this year at the Gotham Gazette.

           He did get to see her two weeks ago but that didn’t really count. He’d never gotten to meet the Robin before him, Jason Todd, but Halley spoke very fondly of him. They had grew extremely close he learned and she was absolutely devastated when the Joker killed him six years ago. And for the last couple of years, Tim would accompany with her to visit Jason’s grave on his death day because she could never bring herself to handle going alone.

           “As much as I would love that, it’s actually a study date.” She bit her lip, looking at her feet.

           “Wow, like a date, date?” Tim was taken aback, almost looking proud at the older girl. All the years he’s known her, she’s never been one for dating or having interest in anyone.

           “Yeah, we’re going to go to this café; the one on fifth, the one you said had really good coffee muffins.” She nodded, still timid about the date itself. She hadn’t been on a date in six years. It felt weird, but Dick told her it was time to start moving on and Dick had never led her astray before so, she was going to try. Jason would want her to anyway, she kept telling herself.

           “Well, I hope you have a good time. And actually get some work done.” Tim chuckled. “Well since I won’t see you in the morning and it’s technically the tenth right now, here you go,” Tim said, pulling out what was hidden behind his back.

           Halley looked down at the items that were being outreached to her, her eyes already getting watery. Tim really didn’t understand how much this stuff meant to her. Glazing over the card, seeing it goofily decorated with glitter and cute little doodles, Halley couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. She thought it was adorable. Opening it up, she read what he wrote inside, chuckling more at the little stick figures of Nightshade and Red Robin. Inside it read:  A mother is the person you can always call to see how long chicken can last in the fridge.

           Shaking her head at him she moved to the other item he handed her. It was a medium sized box wrapped in wrapping paper with little cute cartoon pugs and an oversized purple bow. Putting the card in between her armpit, in order to not drop it, she tore the wrapping paper apart, letting out a squeal, causing everyone to look at her in shock; it took a lot to make the former assassin to squeal in pure giddiness.    

           Damian was now almost fuming as Halley lunged herself into Tim, nearly tripping the boy over in her excitement. Her grip on him was tight, as was her grasp on the gift she still held in her hand, as if holding onto it for dear life. She couldn’t believe he got her this,

           “How did you get this? It sold out in seconds!” She pulled away, now hugging the object to her chest, “Tim you really didn’t have to do this, I totally didn’t realize the date, with school and-,”

           “I knew how much you wanted it and were bummed when you had to go on that mission with the Titans when it went on sale and so I ordered it for you, so you didn’t miss out.” Tim cut off her rambling, shrugging her off. “I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but it didn’t come in on time so I saved it for this.”

           “I can’t wait to show Steph!” She excitedly held it up to look at the smooth and shiny new box, revealing it to everyone in the room the newest Jeffree Star and Shane Dawson palate. “You’re literally the best Tim.” She pulled him into another hug, this time a quick one, no one noticing how Damian was now practically steaming. “What are you doing Wednesday? I’m only at the Gazette until like noon, we should hang out, go to the movies or arcade or something once you’re out of school. I’ll pick you up.”

           “I promised I’d help the Titans with something, it’s not an emergency though-” Tim frowned, hesitating, he could try and reschedule.

           “No, no it’s okay. I know you’ve missed them, being busy with school and all,” She waved off, scrunching up her nose. “We’ll figure it out, but soon, we gotta at least go get burgers or something. It’s been too long.”

           Damian watched as Halley began to start saying her goodbye, realizing that it was nearly five am at this point and wanted to try to get at least three or four hours of sleep before she had to be up for her date. She called out a goodbye to Bruce and Alfred, shooting Tim another thank you and smile before heading to the showers to change and grab her bag to head to her apartment in the city. On her way out, Damian felt his cheeks turn red as she nicely wished him goodnight, smiling wider than she did to Tim. Feeling a strange pang in his chest, he brushed her off, muttering a grumpy ‘night, before curtly turning to head up to the Manor.

           He was unamused by the exchange between her and Drake. He was only under the impression that he was giving her that immature card, not a gift as well. She looked so happy that it almost appeared that Drake was indeed the favorite brother, which absolutely could not possibly be true.  He was the blood brother, he reminded himself. He couldn’t let Drake outshine him like that. It wasn’t even because he cared that much, it was just unacceptable. If it had been Grayson it might sit a little easier with Damian but Drake?

           Damian thought about it until the sun shined through his windows, making him even angrier. Why was he letting this get to him as badly as it was? It was just a stupid card and a box of colorful dirt. But that stupid card and box of colorful dirt still stood in his mind for the following days, making it nearly impossible for him to concentrate on anything else. His father asked him what was wrong during patrol the following nights, only to get a growl here and a grunt there in response. If Damian had to see Drake’s smug look one more time during these moments, he’d finally kill him, his father be damned.

           Damian couldn’t believe how much he let this get to him. He tried to deny it; blame it on hormones or whatever Grayson called the cause of his mood swings. He didn’t even begin to consider admitting he was jealous of his sister’s close relationships with his so called brothers until he found himself standing in front of the Gotham Gazette at 1:50pm. Gritting his teeth, he walked straight in. Once he reached the front desk, he said he was here to see his sister. He was a Wayne, they knew who he was and the woman nervously pointed him to the way to the office his sister worked in.

           The look of worry and shock his sister wore as he stood in front of her desk confirmed that this had indeed been a terrible idea.  She had been head deep in her computer, typing away furiously, while on the phone, barking out questions and demands; something about needing to have some interview with some councilman rescheduled ASAP. Damian was impressed as she spoke. He was used to her stern voice from working with her on missions but this was different, she seemed so professional but scary; he almost felt bad for whoever she was talking to on the phone, but also felt proud by the way she was demanding things like an al Ghul would.

           She must have thought that he was someone else who knocked on her door for when she slammed the phone down, she didn’t even look up at him, just outreached her hand waiting to be passed something. She was expecting someone. She was busy. This was a terrible idea, Damian thought to himself in a slight panic. Was that sweat starting to form on his brow? Grow up Damian, he spat to himself.

           When her hand stood empty she shook it aggressively as if silently saying to hand her something.  Damian raised an eyebrow at her and when she was still left empty handed, she whipped her head up, clearly irritated. She was tired from another all-nighter. She couldn’t even consider going on patrol last night, which was something she never missed up until the last couple of months. She was itching to be done with school already.

           She had to stay up all night trying to make a backup plan for her final article and paper. She was writing about the coming election, making a strong article highlighting the past Mayor’s and city officials. It was a puff piece, but a damn good one. She wanted it to be perfect so that way when she graduated in June she’d hopefully get to stay at the Gazette permanently. But at the same time, she was also just trying to use her connection with the paper to weasel her way into an interview with councilman, Rupert Thorne.

           Her paper had been her obsession since starting it; she was exposing the corruption of city hall and it was at the point where her grade didn’t matter, she just wanted it to be done so she could publish it. Everyone knew that Gotham was corrupt, but no one really talked about, just complained about the crazy, dressed up weirdos that tormented the city at night. People like Scarecrow, Riddler and the Joker make people overlook villains who in her opinion where just as bad. For example, Rupert Thorne

           He had his nose deep in too many illegal operations running out of Gotham that Halley and even Bruce lost count. He had the audacity to run for mayor this election season, as being a councilman wasn’t enough for someone like Thorne. If he won this, Gotham was more screwed then it already was. Without at least speaking with him once her entire paper and grade would be ruined. And she couldn’t exactly go as her alter ego and force him to talk to her. That would raise too many questions. She didn’t even care as she named dropped Bruce, making sure they knew that she was Halley Wayne; she was desperate.          

           When she saw Damian though all thoughts about Thorne left her mind and her face softened before scrunching up again with concern. Damian never visited her before a she had been pretty sure he forgot that she interned here a couple days out of the week. Stopping her work, she looked up at him, looking around the room as her co-workers eyed them curiously.  “Damian, is everything okay? What happened?”

           “Tt.” He crossed his arms.

           “Damian, is everything okay?” She pressed, seeing that look in his eyes when he looked stressed or in trouble.

           “Nothing is wrong, I-,” He paused. He hadn’t figured out what to say. He didn’t prepare for this. Gulping down his anxiety, he took the seat that was across from her desk. He could see the bags underneath her eyes and the untouched food sitting at the other end of the desk. He also noted how the clock said that it was now a couple minutes past two. “Didn’t you tell Drake you were done with work at noon?”

           Halley blinked a few times, now knowing that there was no emergency but instead was just thrown off. What was he talking about? Looking down at the time on her laptop it clicked. Her conversation with Tim in the cave, about possibly hanging out today. Oh right, she remembered.  Looking back up at her younger brother she gave him an unsure look, she didn’t understand why he was here.

           “Um, yeah, well I don’t have a concept of time when I’m in here.” She lightly chuckled, trying to get a vibe on why he was here. Rubbing the black beanie on her head, itching her head awkwardly, “Most times the janitor has to kick me out.”

           She looked at him when he just nodded at her, still not stating why he was sitting in front of her. She was surprised he remembered her conversation with Tim, she hadn’t thought he had been listening and it was like they were talking that loudly for him to be forced to overhear him. She had taken note of Tim texting her about how unbearable he’s been since last Sunday though. She bit the inside of her cheek, was Damian jealous? She laughed to herself, there was no way. But when she have him another look over she saw his green eyes staring at her messy desk with a slight pout on his face. Oh he was totally jealous of Tim, she thought.            

           She looked at her untouched lunch, having totally losing herself in her work and forgetting it even existed. She then felt her stomach growl, seeing how Damian noticed it as well, raising his eyebrow higher, if that was even possible. Quickly saving the document she was working on, she slowly closed her laptop, letting what she was about to do sink in. Trying to contain her smile, not wanting to scare him off before she could even begin, she cleared her throat.

           “So do you like Burgers?”

[thenafics]

Evil Author Day -- 2020

I saw this going around and I both wanted to feel included and have several WIPs that are probably not going to see the light of day for a long time. Most of these have titles already because I am incapable of writing a fic without having a title first~~~

1. Trouble in the Henhouse- AKA Red Hood joins the Suicide Squad

       Amanda Waller thinks she might have made a mistake with the newest member to her team. She’s let the fox into the hen house, except her hens are insane criminals and her fox is a bat who also happens to be an insane criminal. The metaphor starts to deteriorate quickly, but the point remains, this choice might have been the worst one she’s made in a good long while. He is an accident waiting to happen and one of the most deadly assets she has ever managed to get her hands on. He doesn’t kill for money, like Deadshot, or hunger, like Croc, or even some deranged showmanship, like Harley does or Joker’s Daughter did. He kills when he thinks it’s right, because he thinks the target deserves it and that is the most terrifying thing to find in a highly trained killer she’s putting onto a team with a lot of the same type of people he has a habit of offing. Whoops.

2. Ghosts of our Better Natures 

       Tim can tell the instant that Scarecrow’s formula really starts to kick in. He sees the way Jason’s body language shifts, his muscles pulling his limbs in tighter, in spite of the restraints holding him down. Judging from the smirk just visible on Scarecrow’s sack-cloth face, he notices too. “Is my new formula finally kicking in?” His high, grating voice overlays over the sounds of Jason’s harsh breathing. “Looks like the big, bad drug lord has a bit of a tolerance. I doubt I’ll even need to use half as much on your little friend over there.” Scarecrow gestures broadly at Tim where he’s tied up against the wall and then claps his hands with fake glee. “I know what we’ll do! We’ll use all of the extra I’m saving on him for you!”        Jason wrenches at his restraints, eyes wild behind his domino mask, but he remains uncharacteristically silent. He looks over at Tim and another wave of panic seems to crash over him. His struggles increase in strength to the point where Tim can hear the groaning of the rusty bolts holding Jason down.

3. Rafters for Roustabouts- JayRoy based on a piece of fanart I saw and can no longer find

       Roy remembers when Jason was just a skinny little twig of a thing trailing after  Nightwing with his spindly limbs and closed off smiles. The first time they’d met, Jason had looked up at him and blushed so hard that Roy was a little worried he might pass out from all the blood rushing to his head. Jason was in the Tower pretty infrequently, but any time he was there, Roy could be sure to find him either abandoning Dick for Donna (who he had immediately latched onto, like a baby bird imprinting on what it thinks is its mother) or acting as Roy’s shadow. Roy could often tell when Jason was visiting well before Dick told him because of the glimpses of inky black hair he would catch out of the corner of his eye. Eventually Roy got tired of waiting for Jason to stop being so shy. “Hey, Jason, I know you’ve got that whole stealth thing going for you, but it’s much easier to make friends if you just talk to people.”        There was a muted thump and a little yelp as Jason fell down from the rafter he’d been perched on. Roy made his way over to him and crouched down to look more closely at Jason. The younger boy was blushing furiously and had his hands pressed firmly over his eyes, almost as if he thought if he couldn’t see Roy, Roy might not see him. Roy let out a little huff of laughter. “You’re just a little shy, aren’t you Jaybird?”        Jason just burrowed further into his hands and seemed ready to just wait until Roy left so that he could tend to his bruised pride and tailbone.

4.   Chapter 2 of Release of Liability- My very self indulgent Dresden Files fusion au that nobody asked for or wanted. *Knowledge of the Dresden Files universe up to like, book one/two is v. helpful*

Wayne manor is steeped in the type of magic that can make a place a living thing. This is the home of one of the most powerful wizards in America and has been the home of an incredibly powerful magical family for centuries. There’s history in these walls beyond what the outside world will ever know. All of the wall fixtures are old fashioned gas lamps retrofitted with lightbulbs. It’s a darker paint job and some cobwebs away from being the house from the Addam’s family.

Bruce Wayne himself leads me further into the house and to what I assume must be his office. An older man appears almost the exact moment we sit down and offers tea in a clipped British accent. He disappears as silently as he appeared and rematerializes just moments later carrying a tray laden with tea and those fancy little sandwiches they always show on the BBC. Wayne thanks him and dismisses him with a soft “Thank you,” before the man is gone again.

“So, Mr.Dresden, I hear you’re good at finding lost things.”

“I tend to be. Though I have to wonder what use a practitioner of your caliber could have for my services. With all of Gotham at your disposal.”

“The situation requires a somewhat delicate approach.” I can’t help but snort in response. Delicate and I go together like oil and water. I am not who anyone should call for delicate, subtle, or any synonyms of that ilk. Wayne gives a wry smile and little laugh of his own.

“I misspoke. Not delicate, detached. I am well known to Gotham. You are not. I’ve heard wildcard is somewhat your area of expertise.”

“I’m not going to take offense at that because it’s true. What’s missing?”

Bruce Wayne fixes me with a paralyzing gaze and speaks two words that let me know this is going to be one of those cases that sticks with me.

“My son.”

Bruce Wayne is famous for several things in the magical community. His childhood trauma of witnessing his parents’ murder would make a YA author weep and left him the sole heir to one of America’s most notable magical lineages. That alone made him a Name, capital letter intended, in the world of the mystical. He also worked hard to actually become one of the most influential wizards in America and run Gotham with an iron fist. The most notable thing about Bruce Wayne however, is not either of those. It is his incredible and almost suspicious number of extremely powerful adopted children. A disturbing number of which share his jet black hair and blue eyes. I hope it’s just a weird narcissistic rich person thing.

He is well known to be very protective of his bevy of apprentices. To the point where he’d actually knocked out another wizard with a vicious right hook for making an untoward comment about his eldest son. It was a glorious day and I am thankful to have been within enough distance of the scene to see it go down. I am also thankful to have been far enough away that his fury didn’t turn to me. If something has happened to one of his beloved children, I have no doubts that Mr. Wayne will do whatever is necessary to save them. After the death of his second apprentice he’d practically torn apart the world at its seams in his grief.

5.  Windows for Bricks-  

“I’m here to pick up Damian. I guess I’m one of his emergency contacts and the lady on the phone said to sign in here before I could take him home.” Jason says to the nurse by the front of the sterile smelling room.

“Oh, are you,” she looks down at her computer screen “Jason Head?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Jason shifts uncomfortably.

“And you are his … “

“Brother. Same mom.”

“I see. We get Damian in here a lot so I see the resemblance. You have the same eyes”

6. Dialogue Snippet- Dick and Steph on the topic of ass envy

“He’s just jealous of my ass.”

“Yeah, no.”

“What do you mean no?” Dick sounds affronted.

“Have you seen his ass?,” Steph gestures expansively in the shape of an ass. A woman at the next table over glares. “Jay has no reason to be jealous Dick.”

“What.”

“And those thighs… unf.” The lady the next table over glares harder at the noise Steph makes.

“Ohmygod,” Dick buries his head in his hands. “Please stop.”

“What? I'm just saying, he's got no reason to be jealous when the dude is bammin slammin bootylicious”

“I'm pretending I don't know you. Can Tim take you back already?”

“Fine. But take a peek next time you and your ass feel so high and mighty”

7. Innocence for Sinners- JayDick prawn. I wrote this at the request of a friend. Very much not what I usually write, kind of nervous about posting it

*warning for Mature rating*

When he thinks about it, of course it makes sense to Dick that Jason is a virgin. He died before he’d even turned eighteen and spent a few years after that being either brain dead or criminally insane. It was really only in the past three or so years that Jason could be counted among the semi-rational members of the population and he had been so busy during that time span that there was no earthly way he had done anything. Still, Dick couldn’t help but be a little surprised when Jason pushes away from their kiss, while Dick’s hand rubs gentle circles over his crotch, and gasps out “No one’s ever touched me like that before.” 

Dick pauses and pulls back fully, his weight between Jason’s spread legs still pinning the younger man to the bed.

“What do you mean Jason?,” he asks, seeking verbal confirmation for his suspicions. Jason blushes prettily and turns his head to one side, as if to escape the weight of Dick’s eyes. Dick reaches out and turns Jason’s face back towards him. His eyes trace the delicate flush that brings out the freckles across the bridge of Jason’s nose and blown out pupils in sea green eyes.

 “Jason, are you a virgin?Am I going to be your first?” Jason blushes even further at the questions and nods mutely. Dick feels a rush of possessiveness pass through him at the idea of brash, rebellious, Jason being his. It only makes sense, after all, Jason had spent years wearing Dick’s colors and a month or so trying on the Nightwing suit for size. Of course Jason should be his in some other way. Dick leans back forward and kisses up Jason’s neck, ending up right by his ear.

“I’m going to ruin you for anybody else, little wing.” Jason shudders and lets out a soft moan as Dick scrapes his teeth against his neck in punctuation.

 “Please,” Jason breathes out. Dick growls quietly and surges up to kiss Jason. He weaves his fingers through the curls of Jason’s hair and pulls slightly. Immediately, Jason gasps into Dick’s mouth and arches his back up off the bed. Dick chuckles and pulls harder. He is rewarded with a moan and a shudder from Jason.

“You like that Jaybird? When I pull your hair?” Dick laughs against Jason’s mouth when Jason nods with downcast eyes. “Let’s find out what else you like.”

Dick leaves one hand in Jason’s hair and worms the other up under Jason’s shirt, brushing over the hard lines of muscle and scar tissue. He thumbs over one of Jason’s nipples gently and feels a slight shudder run through Jason’s body. Taking that as a positive sign, he rolls it between his index finger and thumb. Jason gasps and tosses his head back, breaking the kiss. 

“Dick,” he gasps out, “That feels so, ah, good.” Dick smirks and rolls the nipple again “Aaaaaaah.” Dick pulls his other hand from Jason’s hair and starts using it to push Jason’s shirt up while he brings his mouth down to Jason’s stomach, kissing over the places where his hands had traced over.

“Wait, Dick!,” Jason calls out, panting for breath. Dick looks up at Jason’s flushed face. “I… I have a lot of scars there. Some of them might not be ones that you want to see…” Jason trails off towards the end of his sentence and avoids eye contact with Dick until Dick uses his free hand to gently pull Jason to face him. Dick can see in this flustered and blushing Jason the same boy who had been so shyly admiring of him all those years ago. This shy virginal Jason is far more little red riding hood than the big bad wolf that the Red Hood pretends to be.

“I want all of you Jason. All of you.” Dick says softly. He gently pulls the shirt all the way off of Jason, manipulating the younger man’s arms so that he can remove it. Once the shirt is off, he kisses up Jason’s chest to the top of the Y-shaped scar that stretches from collarbone to collarbone and bisects his body from mid-chest to belly button. Dick mouths gently across the raised tissue and grinds his hips down against Jason’s. Jason can only gasp wordlessly in response as Dick uses his right hand to trace down and past the long tail of the scar to the top of Jason’s jeans. He pops the button and undoes the fly with one hand. When he starts to shimmy Jason’s jeans and boxers down, Jason lifts his hips and practically whines. Dick slides down Jason’s body and sits up in order to pull the pants off all the way before settling himself back between his legs. 

“Your thighs are gorgeous.” Dick doesn’t even try to hold back a moan at all the exposed skin before him, some spots criss-crossed with thin lines left from slashes and stab wounds or spotted with starbursts from gunshots. He takes a moment to appreciate the way Jason’s waist cuts in and then flares out to almost feminine hips and thick, muscular thighs. Dick slides his hands under the small of Jason’s back and inches them down to the top of Jason’s ass.

“Really? You like them?” Jason asks, blushing.

“Babe, I love them. It should be against the law for you to wear pants. It’s practically a crime to keep all this hidden under your jeans.” Dick kneads at the soft flesh of Jason’s ass.

“Says the one who’s all covered up,” Jason gasps out. There’s Dick’s Jason, blushing and innocent, but still talking back. 

“Let’s fix that then,” Dick chuckles and slowly removes his hands, giving one last squeeze on his way. Dick peels off his t-shirt, deliberately twisting his body and putting on a show for Jason who watches with rapt attention. Dick smiles softly at the awestruck look on Jason’s face before making quick work of the clasps on his pants and shimmying out of them completely. Dick bends down and starts to kiss up Jason’s left leg, starting at his calves and working up to his thighs. Once he gets to the sensitive skin on Jason’s inner thighs, he takes his time pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin there. Dick scrapes his teeth against the skin as he pulls away from a kiss about halfway up Jason’s thigh and feels the strong muscles underneath tremble. Smirking, he repeats the action and looks up to watch Jason. The younger vigilante is struggling to hold his composure, but Dick wants to watch him fall apart completely. So he lowers his mouth back down to Jason’s thighs and bites down. At that, Jason arches off the bed hard and lets out the loudest moan Dick has heard from him so far.

8. Runneth Over and all that Jazz- incomplete work for day 7 of Omega Jason Todd Week -Lactation kink au heavily inspired by  @whumpbby and @daemoninwhiteround2 and all their stuff. A little R rated

If it weren’t for his chest, Jason would be nearly impossible to recognise as an omega. He��s taller and more muscular than most omegas so with his deep voice, no one would ever guess. If it weren’t for his body’s absolute betrayal. Jason, like pretty much all adult omegas, produces milk. It’s meant to help reinforce pack bonds and keep pups adopted into a pack fed. That’s not the problem, that part of it is manageable with absorbent pads in shirts and semi-regular use of a breast pump. It sucks, but it’s not the problem. The problem is that Jason’s pack bonds are weak, so his body will let down and start producing milk on a hair trigger. He’s peak fertile age and tangentially part of a mostly alpha pack, but not bonded well enough to balance his hormones, so his body has decided to try and tempt his pack into bonds with milk.

It’s a nuisance. He hears Bruce’s voice on the radio and a little dribble of milk escapes. Dick and Tim get into an argument and he can feel his breasts swelling with more milk. Cass gets injured and he ends up having to sneak off to change his shirt when she cuddles up to him for comfort. He saw Damian cry once and that was enough to get him leaking like a fountain and avoiding the bats for a few days. He knows at least one of them can probably smell the milk on him, but they have the good graces not to mention it so long as he doesn’t. 

So Jason distances himself from the pack. He figures if he doesn’t see them, his body won’t decide to go into hormone overdrive. Except it just ends up compounding the problem. More time away from the pack means even weaker pack bonds, which ends up kicking his hormones into even higher gear than they would have been. Soon, Jason’s having to empty his milk every day, then twice a day, then eventually he has to break in the middle of patrol to empty his breasts so they aren’t incredibly sore as he’s flipping around rooftops. He switches from plain absorbent undershirts to nursing undershirts in all black so that if he leaks it won’t show. It’s gotten way out of hand but the only way to fix it is to either break his pack bonds entirely, which might make it worse, or go to the pack and suffer through some potentially very embarrassing bonding.

He shudders at the thought of his pack finally drinking from him. The vulnerability it would bring stirs up something like panic in his stomach mixed equally with want. Letting them know that he can be manipulated just because of a biological response would put him at a huge disadvantage. If they knew he could be made to let down and go into a pheromone drenched haze with some carefully chosen vocalizations they could use it to their advantage when Jason inevitably pisses one of them off. Still, something has to be done, his chest hurts so much that when he got hit there on patrol, he almost blacked out.

He decides to go to Tim first. The slightly younger man is the easiest for Jason to get along with, and despite his tendency for general sneakery, he has enough respect for what Jason does that he probably won’t use it against him too much. It’s a risk, but the potential for relief from the pain of his swollen nipples and frequent breast pump use are enough to take it. Tim is practical and doesn’t seem like the type to get physically aggressive. Even if he does, his small stature means that Jason should be able to escape. Hopefully he won’t be weird about it. Fingers crossed.

Jason knocks on the door of Tim’s apartment, about an hour before patrol typically starts. Tim answers the door looking sleep deprived as always with a mug of coffee in one hand. Jason gives him a sheepish smile and a half hearted wave, after which Tim gestures him into the apartment, one eyebrow raised in question. He shuts and locks the door behind him.

“Hi Jason. It’s been awhile. What are you doing here?” Just the sound of Tim’s voice is making his chest swell a little.

“Can’t I just come visit?”

“Of course you can, you know I like your company. You just usually … don’t. So… ”

Tim pins Jason in place with his calculating stare as he waits for a response. The silence is incredibly awkward for Jason because every second that passes he can feel the slight swelling inch closer and closer to potential leakage. He finally breaks when he feels a small dribble of milk start to leak from one nipple.

“I need your help.”

“A case?”

“No… “ Jason trails off, still unsure.

“Are you okay Jason?” Tim sets his coffee down and sits next to Jason on the couch. Their arms brush and Jason fucking gushes. If Tim couldn’t smell the milk on him before, he sure as hell can now if the way he sniffs the air is any indication.

“What’s wrong Jay? Why are you, umm, … “

“Leaking?”

Tim nods, nostrils flaring as a blush steals across his face.

“I’m letting down at the drop of a hat right now. I’m overproducing so much that I have to stop in the middle of patrols to pump. It hurts real bad.” Jason couldn't stop the whine from leaking into his tone if he tried. Tim unconsciously responds with a swell of alpha scent. The pheromones set Jason off again and he gasps as he involuntarily lets even more milk escape.

“Jason,” Tim’s voice is practically a whisper. “How can I help?” Jason takes a moment to steady himself under the force of Tim’s gaze, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his reaction to the answer.

“ I need you to drink enough to solidify our pack bond.” 

Tim makes an interested little noise in the back of his throat and places one delicate hand over Jason’s on his lap. He gives a gentle squeeze

“Are you making enough to do it in one go?”

“Were you even paying attention? Yes. I’m producing enough for the whole pack.”

“Why me? If you go off pack hierarchy aren’t you supposed to go to Bruce? Even if you don’t trust Bruce, you could have gone to Dick or Barbara.”

“If you’re not willing, I won’t pressure you.” Jason’s voice is flat as he starts to stand, but he’s stopped by Tim’s suddenly much stronger grip pulling him back to the couch.

“I never said that. I just want to know why you chose me before I potentially upset pack structure.”

“ ‘M more comfortable,” Jason mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “Dick’s too clingy and Babs still thinks I’m crazy most of the time. You’re … nice to me. Helpful.”

“You’re nice to me too Jason. We take care of each other.”

An unfamiliar throaty purr starts up in the back of Jason’s throat as Tim gently presses his shoulders back into the couch. He pushes up Jason’s shirt, making sure to be extra careful right around the chest area. An accidental brush from the back of his hand as he pulls the shirt off causes a whimper to interrupt Jason’s purring. Tim shushes him gently as he sets the shirt to the side in a crumpled ball. Jason glares at him until Tim sighs and folds the shirt semi-neatly. He rearranges himself until he’s draped halfway over Jason’s lap, face centimeters from touching Jason’s chest. Tim stares unashamedly at the plump flesh where he can see the wetness where milk has already escaped. 

[skeletonwoman]

J is for Judgement

This is a part 2! Comes after a part 1, and a part 1.5!!

You smile at Dick when he darkens the pet stores doorway.

“Hey baby, hey baby,” he greets and you snort, coming around the counter to give him a hug. You’ve never been much of a hugger, but hell, he’s just the cuddliest.

Also he smells like a tasty man.

Pulling apart, he leans against your counter, an attempt at being casual and you hide a smirk.

“So, bestie,” he begins and you waver in place. Luckily the space is empty apart from the two of you. “I’ve got a thing tonight, if you’re interested in coming.”

“Going out on the town with my bestie?” You begin, about to rain him in stupid compliments.

“Ah- not, the town…” He cuts in and you hum, wrinkling your brow. “Dami is throwing the dog a birthday party,” his tone drags the words as if it’s a chore, even though it sounds like tonight might be the best of your life, “and it’s just a small gathering, family and close friends. I was wondering…”

He gives you a sneaky look.

“Yeeees?” you sing-song back and he licks his lips, trying to hide smile.

“If you were interested…” His mouth drags the words out and you feel like you’re vibrating from the inside out.

“Innnnn?”

“Coming with me to the party tonight?”

“Yeah!” You shout, throwing your fists in the air and bouncing around in a circle before pulling up in front of him, dropping your excitement and blanking your face. “Yeah, sounds cool, no biggie, if you want, no prob, Bob.”

Dick beams at you, still leant against the counter. “They’re going to love you.”

“You bet your ass they will, Richie!” Your bravado has his expression softening with affection, even as your stomach flips with a sudden and crushing panic. Hiding this, you catch his hand in one of yours and swing them. “I am excited to meet Barbaraaaa.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes and grinning, before pushing off the counter and dragging you about the store.

“Help me get the damn dog a present, it can be from both of us, obviously,” he says, before muttering. “Dogs birthday party, Jason didn’t get a birthday party last year but the dog does?”

You don’t tell Dick about the guy today. You know he notes the scrawled number on your hand and he smiles a little, but when you don’t mention it, he doesn’t ask.

As you’re walking home, Dick having promised to pick you up later, you stare at your phone.

Debating.

Screw it.

Me: Hi, this is Y/N from the pet store, I didn’t get your name today

You wait ten seconds before shoving your phone into your pocket out of anxiety and instead focussing on tonights hellscape.

You have to make these people love you. You have to!

Ignoring the silence and stillness of your pocketed phone, you instead focus on reviewing what you know about Dicks family.

Surprisingly- little.

Honestly? You barely know anything about them.

Except:

               He has two dads, Alfred and Bruce

               He has four brothers, Jay, Tim, Duke and Damian

               He has two sisters, Steph and Cass.

               He has one not sister, Barbara, also his unrequited love

               He doesn’t have favourites between any of them.

Luckily, as you start up your stoop and your chest starts to heave, your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Unknown Number: I’m Jason

You wait. For something, anything.

After two minutes, you’ve entered your apartment and, phone still in hand, made your way to your closet.

After ten, you’ve set the phone back on your bed and are deciding between a red bodysuit and a yellow crop top.

After twenty, you’re in the shower and anxiously shaving your legs even though you’ve decided to wear long pants.

At the thirty minute mark, out of the shower with your hair wrapped but before you apply moisturiser, you pick up the phone and give in.

Me: What do you do, Jason?

Putting it back down, without much expectation, you pick up the moisturiser once more but pause when the device beeps again.

Jason: I’m a freelancer, mixed martial artist.

Jason: Do you like lunch? Or breakfast food.

You try to grin too wide at the messages. He seems a little… unsure, maybe. You’re into it.

Me: I love lunch, and breakfast- for lunch or breakfast. What do you think about dinner?

You nab your red bodysuit and slip yourself into it, then fight on your favourite pair of pink corduroy pants. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you frown, look at your closet, frown harder.

No.

“You’re hot.” You growl to your mirror self. “I am hot. And I am loveable and tonight is going to be great and tomorrow you can go out with Jason and kiss that gorgeous face.”

His visage pops up before you, scarred and unusual.

You hope his scars are more innocent than- well, than other scars in this city.

Maybe he got them in the womb, or terrible acne that forms perfect lines.

Oh boy.

Jason: I usually work nights, late, and I’d hate to cut our night short because I need to get to work

Your lips purse.

Oh shit!

Dickard: I’m coming up, you better look hot

Shoving away your awful, awful, just awful realization, you look back up at yourself in the mirror and grimace. Throwing on a light coat of lipstick and a layer of mascara, finishing off the makeup you’d been wandering through while texting with-

No.

Leaping up, you grab your jacket- that guys jacket-

Oh hell, you’re so dumb.

Pushing out every thought to do with night time activities and vigilantes and, worse, villain criminals, you throw on the jacket, put your phone and wallet in the pockets, slip on some shoes and snatch your keys.

“Shit,” you murmur, spinning around and nabbing your perfume from the table and spritzing yourself and the jacket. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Bounding for the door, you wrench it open just as Dick raises his hand to knock. You stare at each other, for a moment, while you pant.

“Running late?”

Shoving Dick backwards into the hall, you lock up behind yourself and turn back to him with a cheesy smile. “Show me your Daddy, Dicky.”

His expression goes blank and you hiss out a breath.

“No. No! Don’t-”

“I think maybe-”

“Oh shut up,” you growl and he laughs, throwing an arm over your shoulders and leading you out of the building. “Y’know, I’ve don’t know that much about your family. Like I know the cast, obviously but you’ve literally never told me where you live, and you’ve never-”

Dick grimaces, and you can tell he’s unsure and maybe embarrassed.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll figure it out, I doubt they know much about me, anyway!” You laugh, your throat tight and panicked and he offers a weak smile and a quick squeeze.

  “Oh, f*ck me, Dick.” You stare at the gates.

The Gates.

Not to heaven, or arkham, or anywhere so pedestrian, oh no.

“F*cking Wayne Manor, Grayson? As in Dick Grayson, adopted son of Bruce Wayne?”

Dick shrinks in his seat, driving up the lane, since the gates had opened automatically, for him.

“I’m going to kick your god damn ass, Grayson, I’m going to end you, you’re the worst, literally the worst,” the car stops, “you’re so f*cking dead, you dumb bitch, I can’t believe you’ve done this,” your door opens, “and I’m just so excited to meet your family, Dick! Hahaha!”

You take the hand proffered through the car door and rise to come face to face with- shit- Tim Drake.

Recognisable, famous Tim Drake.

“Hi! Dicks brother Tim! He’s so proud of you,” you greet and Tims lips twitch upwards at the sides, though his slightly warm, slightly protocol expression changes little beyond that.

“Welcome, Y/N, Dick’s mentioned you a lot and we’re all so excited to finally meet you. In the flesh.”

You try not to frown at his weird phrasing, only for it to get worse.

“Oh. Did Jason leave his jacket in your car again, Dick?” Tim asks, his gaze moving from the jacket on your shoulders to Dick, who is sidling up beside you.

Jacket. Jay. Jason. Phone number. Freelancer. Night time work.

Shit, shit, shit, please be a coincidence, please be a coincidence. F*cking Dick, f*cking shit, damn, heck.

You smile absently at the pair.

“Oh, no, this one is apparently very similar to Jasons but Y/N has assured me she found it in her building,” Dick assures him, and you look between the two, gauging their reactions.

Tim grimaces, and Dick frowns at him.

A vigilante gave you this jacket. You just got the phone number of a possible vigilante named Jason. Dicks brother Jay is named Jason and he’s got a jacket like this.

Please.

Hell.

You spot others emerging behind Tim, from the gigantic Wayne Manor doors.

Dick’s eyes dart to them and he slings a comforting arm over your shoulders.

“Let’s get in and out of the cold, hey Tim? C’mon, lead the way.” His voice is jovial but he holds you back a second as Tim sends him a look then starts toward the doors. His face tilts toward yours, a soft whisper coming through your hair to your ear. “I’m so sorry, I should have said something sooner, it’s a- it’s hard to explain, you know I’m adopted, we’re all pretty adopted around here and it’s such a difficult situation and its not like I have the greatest relationship with Bruce and- I’m sorry, Y/N, I should have said something sooner.”

The apology brushes over you and you tilt slightly against him, your forehead setting against his shoulder and he presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“Thanks, kiddo.”

“We’re two years apart, you galumphing oaf.” You growl back, just as you step through the doors and come face to face with a group of people staring at the pair of you.

Your eyes lock on a beautiful red haired woman, her face stark for a long moment as she takes in the pair of you before everything on her face is hidden with a blink of an eye.

Oh crap.

You step out of Dicks grasp, pointedly, and offer a weak smile to the red haired girl. Barbara.

Shit, hell.

Everyone stares at the movement and it takes you a second before you see him.

“Is that Jasons jacket?” A kid asks loudly, Damian, hopefully, but your eyes don’t stray from the man at the back.

Jason from the pet shop.

“Relax everyone,” Dick laughs, his eyes moving from you to Jason and the pair of you stare at the obvious expression on his face. Dicks voice trails off. “It’s not Jasons…”

“Jesus and the Joker,” you gripe, your eyes darting from Barbara to Jason to Dick.

“So this is your jacket?” Dick asks, gesturing to the beat up brown coat on your shoulders. “How’d she get it? How’d you get it?”

Jasons head twitches in a shake, eyes locked on yours and you squint at him.

“No! Jason. Don’t make her lie. How’d this happen? Why’s she still got it?” He glances at the staring group and sighs. “She got it like a week ago.”

“Three days.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at Jason.

“Shall we, everyone, head into the living room? Alfred, dinner?”

Your eyes dart to Bruce Wayne, his voice and face clearly recognisable from several television segments, and you watch as the group silently and with thick tension move single file through a door. Beside Bruce, another man, Alfred, you guess, steps up close to him and murmurs something before Bruce nods.

Beside you, Dick tangles your fingers.

“Hey, best friend?”

Your eyes slide up to his and he offers you a pathetic smile.

“Dick,” you say softly, as the others exit, leaving the pair of you a moment. “Cards on the table, a group of those people who run around at night visited me and then that night you were out with Jay one of them visited again and he gave me his jacket and then he took it back but then he gave it back and then Jason came into the pet shop today before you did and I got his number and I texted him and I realized that hot guy Jason from the store was some kind of vigilante guy because of what he said and now I get here and they’re the same person and your brother Jason is the Red Hood? And he’s running around with other vigilantes who have hair the same as these people we’ve just walked into and please call me crazy, Dick, that I’m a big ol’ loon, please?”

You don’t mess with the f*cked system in Gotham and you certainly don’t get involved with someone involved with the f*cked system.

“I’m Nightwing.” Dick says in a rush. “And kinda Batman.”

Your nose wrinkles as you try not to burst into tears.

Just… One thing after another.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Dick pulls you into his chest and you don’t resist. He’s Nightwing but he’s still your Dickie, your platonic soulmate. “I was going to tell you soon, but I know how you feel about all of it and I didn’t want you to hate me or my family before you met them.”

“Dick!” Someone yells obnoxiously before being loudly hushed.

“I didn’t know about this Jason thing, I wish he’d have spoken to me, this is my fault for mentioning you to them.”

You hug him tight before pulling back and shaking out your hair. Pasting on a smile, you beam at your best friend.

“It’s a party, Dick, for a dog, I think we should focus on that for now and hope I haven’t ruined any chance to make Barbara like me.” You laugh half-heartedly, before taking his hand and stepping purposefully toward the doors everyone else waits behind.

Heck this was a heck one like just definitely took a while and quite stressful to write idk what was going on

[archiveofidentityconstellations]

birds all sing | part 2

part 1

and we’re back! chapter has been revised for the better! enjoy!

August

“That’s right, give it a good hard stare. Make that menu tell you all its secrets.”

Selina’s whisper tickled his ear, which would have been pleasant if Bruce wasn’t so infuriated. The past couple of weeks had not gone according to plan. For one thing, Tim had not quit. Rather, he had reached into his resources and manipulated multiple employees as well as members of the board. Bruce couldn’t count how many visits of “good will” he had received since last week, hoping to make him “aware” in subtle terms of their position. Bruce wasn’t surprised, per se, at the actions Tim had taken. He had been a resourceful boy and now was a rather ruthless…man. Bruce adjusted in his seat. That was a trait that he had cultivated in him, and now the tables had turned. He did not regret cultivating the trait, not for an instant. Tim was the most cerebral of his sons, the one he could rely on to do what must be done, even to his detriment.

Especially to his detriment.

“Have you even tried talking to him?”

Barbara’s voice had been snappish, dry, and derisive, though lacking any real bite. Bruce had stopped by the clocktower in lieu of Tim for the monthly check-in. Bruce, being an adult, had kept the details of the situation from the family.

Which meant that Barbara had interrogated him the minute he stepped into the clocktower.

“It’s not about that,” he had told her. At her look he explained, “Tim is young. He’s young and he’s never branched out. Besides that, he never proceeds with the expected. He didn’t throw a shampoo bottle at my head and move out like Dick did. He left home by time I returned, and his lifestyle hasn’t been investigated since then.”

“You really think getting married is his act of rebellion?”

Her tone was not flattering. Bruce bristled.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he said. “Children are—“

“I think you don’t understand, Bruce, I really think you don’t,” she interrupted. “This isn’t a catch-all situation, it never is. You always think there’s a formula to these things. Why, I don’t know, especially since the fall-out is always terrible. My ears are still ringing from Jason’s tantrum in the eighth grade. You wouldn’t let him know why he wasn’t allowed to go on that D. C. field trip, remember that?”

Bruce did.

“Look,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m not here to argue or to lecture or any of that. I don’t think you’d listen to me if I did, though I’d try my damndest to make you.”

He scoffed. She smirked.

“I just want you to consider that this isn’t about you.”

Bruce paused. “How could this not be about me?”

“You get wrapped up in yourself, Bruce.”

Bruce cleared his throat, ready to deny this, but then Barbara sighed in a knowing way, cutting him off.

"I'm not here to argue about semantics," she said, looking at him behind her glasses. "Just consider that people, your children, everyone around you—we all have our own melodrama,” she said. “And we’re the main character in it. You’re the sidekick in this scenario.”

He stuck his tongue in the side of his cheek, blinking mulishly.

Barbara sighed.  “He’s not doing this to hurt you.”

“He put Bosch in the office,” Bruce protested.

A beat.

“He’s doing this to hurt you a little.”

Tim was sending a message, and it was personal. Besides all the office machinations and manipulations, he had taken to hiding out in Stephanie’s apartment, a place he knew Bruce wouldn’t visit. Not only that, but he went out of town for his birthday, decidedly not inviting the family or even letting Bruce know his plans.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel about that.

It wasn’t that either of them were especially attached to their birthdays, but ever since Tim had been adopted things had been—well. Different. Bruce had tried, put in more effort than he realized, in recognizing Tim’s birthday every year. He knew the boy’s parents hadn’t made it home more than not, and Tim had mentioned that through the years, a sure indication that it bothered him even if he didn’t admit to it. But Tim’s twentieth birthday had dawned bright and clear, and he had ensured that Bruce wouldn’t be part of it.

If Bruce was being honest, it hurt.

He had tried, damnit, and to have that effort thrown back in his face just because of a fight—Tim was supposed to be the good one. The understanding one, the easy one.

Bruce clenched his fists. Tim was supposed to be the reliable one.

“Maybe you should take that menu outside.”

Bruce looked at Selina. She quirked a brow at him.

“What, no come-ons? No sweet nothings about how good she looks?” She reached over and twisted the menu in Bruce’s hands, keen eyes surveying the width of the menu. She whistled. “I hear she also knows how to cook.”

Bruce didn’t smile, but it was a near thing. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Selina set her elbow on the table, leaning her head on her hand. “Oh?” She dragged a finger around his temple, long, scratching nail almost making him shiver. Almost. “You haven’t been paying attention to me either.” She pouted playfully, but her moue disappeared when Bruce only hummed. Her green eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce hesitated. But before he could answer a waiter was directing a friendly-looking couple to their table. Selina sent him a look and stood up; time to meet the in-laws. Selina and her sister Maggie had discovered each other years ago after losing contact for more than twenty years due to foster care. Maggie had been shipped off to California and adopted. It was only after she had married Simon that Selina had brokered contact, and now his fiancé was deadset on including Maggie in the wedding details. Which meant meeting the groom. Which meant Bruce.

He sighed around his water goblet, taking a swallow and pasting a smile on his face when he shook Simon’s hand.

The situation with Tim could wait. Bruce had made it this far, he could hold it together for another hour.

“So then she said, ‘I sent my draft over’ and I was like ‘bullshit’ and then he went ‘I think we can all understand that folks have been busy’ and I was like ‘BULLSHIT’ and then she said ‘It’s not my fault that you spent all night working on it’ and she knows the grade is based on a group effort, it’s not individual, so I was about to go all Solange Knowles in the elevator, and THEN--"

Tim set his head against the wheel.

Stephanie tapped her fingers against his skull. “Honey? I know that my dramatic retelling of my summer class might be boring but you need to keep your head up to see the traffic light.” She tapped again. “Chop chop, eyes on the road.”

Tim obliged. “I’m losing it, Steph,” he murmured. “I’m losing it.”

“I’ll help you find it,” she assured him. “In the meantime we can share mine. Don’t crash my car. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the elevator. So THEN—“

"It’s just,” he began, “he is up my ass—”

“Oh wow,” said Stephanie. “I have no idea what that feels like. I feel so sorry for you.”

Tim sent her an unimpressed look. She smiled beatifically at him. He reached over and pinched her thigh. Steph gave a shriek of laughter and drew her knees up to her chest. “Both hands on the wheel, Timothy Drake!”

He laughed and returned to the wheel, eyes scanning the road.

“But really,” she said, continuing their conversation. “He’s just in one of his Moods. You just have to ride it out.”

“Screw that,” Tim muttered.

“What is up with you two anyways? Normally you let him go crazy-anal and don’t get defensive about it at all.”

“Did you just call me a suck-up?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Seriously, though. You’re obviously unhappy. What happened?”

“He just…he’s too much. And I’m sick of it. You know he was trying to get me to go to college?”

“Yeah, I only heard about it twenty times.”

“Well,” he flicked on the signal, “he basically threatened to fire me if I don’t do what he wants.”

“No! Wait, this is Bruce we’re talking about. Yes!”

“So I’ve basically been getting back at him at the office. And on patrol. And at home.”

“Is this why you’ve been sleeping at my place?”

He didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. “Yes.”

“Okay, while I love that you’re using me as a tool to piss off your dad,” Steph took a sip from her water bottle, “what do I get from providing sanctuary?”

“I’m getting you a new car for your birthday,” Tim deadpanned.

“Volvo?”

“Lexus.”

She leaned over and smacked a resounding kiss on his cheek. “Mwah!”

He grinned.

“Has Bruce retaliated yet?”

“No,” he admitted, bitter and not sure of the reason why, “but then again I’ve tied his hands. I made Tam hold all my calls.”

Stephanie burst out laughing. “Oh Tim,” she gasped. “This is Mean Girls petty and I should say I’m disappointed in both of you but I’m also loving this?”

Tim gave a half-smile but didn’t respond. It had seemed fun, at first. Hitting Bruce where it hurt, like he had done to him. But after the third quasi-manic episode at the office (which had included balloons and Eiffel 65 blaring—he didn’t want to talk about it), it felt…empty. Like no matter what he did, Bruce was still going to think of him the same and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. There was no concept of a permanent sense of self, only a ‘Bruce sense of self.’ That didn’t mean he stopped the lying and manipulation; he just felt strange using Lucius for personal reasons. Like giving Bruce the finger.

Tim shifted in his seat, barely listening to Stephanie chatter. He thought about actual aggressive “negotiations” with the man. He visualized launching himself at Bruce and choking him out.  

Tim hummed, considerate. He took a left, merging onto the highway.

Not that he could really do anything. He’d just hang there, like a Tim-sized necktie.

But it’s the thought that counts.

“—And so then I’m stuck between two seats, my tongue almost touching the—hey!” Stephanie took her feet off the dashboard in surprise. “Why did you go on the 95? You know it always gets backed up.”

“Does it matter? Do you have to pee?”

“No, that’s not it.” Her eyes narrowed at the traffic. “We talked about ordering in tonight, and China Panda closes at eight.”

“I’m sure we’ll get home by—”

“You KNOW the 95 takes hours ever since they closed Doyle Pike, it takes—”

“Shit,” Tim swore. “For god’s sake Stephanie, you couldn’t have warned me?”

“I did!” she said shrilly. “I literally got into the car and the first thing I did was remind you about Doyle Pike and Mallowan Road and asked you if you had stopped off because I had less than half a tank of—”

The car gave a sputter.

Tim’s heart went cold.

“No.”

It jerked.

“Nonononono—”

It stopped.

This was hell.

Bruce examined the cutlery for the twenty-fourth time (he had counted). Silver, same as last time. It wasn’t as if he disliked his future in-laws. They were very nice people. Very…nice.

“And just think,” Maggie was saying, “after the wedding you could come visit us in California!”

“Yeah,” said Selina, face lighting up when she spotted their waiter across the room.

“And you could meet Linus!”

“Our son,” Simon explained, smiling at Bruce.

“Maybe you could even bring a friend for him,” said Maggie. She raised her eyebrows, alluding to something Selina knew about, for her sister smiled testily at her.

“Our waiter is coming,” she snapped, pushing the appetizer plates out of the way.

Maggie unrolled her napkin. “And Linus could even meet all the other kids! You have six, don’t you?”

If Bruce was surprised at being addressed, he didn’t show it. “I do.”

“You adopted, right?”

“I did.”

“I’m part of a blended family too!” she exclaimed. “I mean, besides Selina. I was adopted into a family, there were four of us until mom had Constance. I was seventeen, but I loved having a baby around, I think it really shaped me as an individual. What do you think about large age gaps between siblings?”

“Look, bread,” Selina announced. “Bruce, eat the bread.”

Bruce ate it.

Maggie moved on from her question, listing off her siblings’ names and dipping her bread with gusto, but Bruce considered it. Had his children’s ages and life experiences influenced the younger ones’ decisions? He knew that Damian was far more tactile due to Dick’s impact, and he likely would not be that way had he only been involved with Bruce. Perhaps that was what was going on with Tim. Perhaps there was some outside influence at work here, something (or someone, he thought to himself bitterly), that made Tim so stubborn. He knew the boy didn’t used to be this bad. He used to be able to wait him out. He remembered a specific scenario, giving Tim a look and Tim had immediately come clean, sniffling all the while.

Granted, he had been twelve at the time, but still.

There was something to this situation, an aspect Bruce hadn’t considered.

“What date for the wedding were you thinking?” asked Simon, stepping in when his wife paused for breath. “Have you set one yet?”

“Not yet,” Selina replied. “Look, food.”

Their waiter set down their entrees. Bruce unrolled his napkin amidst Maggie’s excited report on flexible venues.

“—And after a year or two the booking is still good!” she exclaimed. “So if anything comes up—”

“Nothing will. Bruce, steak.”

Bruce obligingly cut up his steak.

Although, perhaps an outside influence wasn’t the answer. Perhaps the answer was that Timothy felt that lies and manipulations were a viable tool of communication. Perhaps Timothy believed that respect was not warranted, not to his family, and not to Bruce. Bruce, you know, the man otherwise known as his father? Perhaps Timothy felt as though he should be able to do things with zero consequences. Perhaps Timothy thought that Bruce was stupid. Perhaps Timothy thought that it was funny that Bruce cared about him, that he wanted to see him succeed. Perhaps Timothy should be forced to cooperate, should answer his questions that he hadn’t bothered to ask because Timothy would feed him lies, all that boy did was lie, he woke in the morning and thought “How can I lie to Bruce today?” because lying about sleeping and his caffeine intake and his plans for school and where he was going to live and whose ring was in his closet—

“Bruce, chew.”

Bruce chewed angrily, snapping his jaws together.

“It is a lot,” Maggie was saying. At that point Selina had decimated all the breadsticks, wheat corpses mangled across the tablecloth. “I mean, I’m exhausted,” she admitted. “I’ll never sleep the same again, I swear it. But Linus is just so amazing. I can hardly believe that God gave me a baby, and that I get to have such a wonderful one. Especially after we struggled so much.”

Simon met his wife’s eyes, smiling reassuringly at her.

Selina paused. Her face gentled. She set her hand on her sister’s arm. “I have no doubt that you are a great mom, Maggie.”

Maggie bit her lip to cover up its tremble. “Thank you,” she whispered. She then cleared her throat and picked up her wine glass. “All in all, children are such a blessing,” she concluded.

Selina returned her hands to the table, face pinched again. She took a sip of her water.

Bruce twisted the napkin in his hands.

“I mean, what could be better than children?”

Sip.

Twist.

“I mean, they really are such a blessing!”

Sip.

Twist.

“Don’t you think, Selina?”

“Unf,” agreed Selina around a huge gulp of water. It spilled out of her mouth.

Twist.

“Plus, Simon and I are enjoying all these firsts of parenthood,” Maggie continued. “First time they roll over, first time they coo—”

Twist.

“First time they smile,” Simon added. They smiled at each.

Twist. Twist. Twist twist twist twist twist—

“And we’re so excited for what comes next!” Maggie squealed. “The first time they crawl, the first step, the first word—”

“The first time they set up an elaborate lie and tell you that they’re going to live with an imaginary uncle.”

The table went silent.

“PUSH!”

“I am pushing!” he bellowed.

Stephanie stuck her head out the window, eyes fixed upon him and definitely not on the road. “Push harder!”

Tim rolled his eyes. He planted his hands against the back of Steph’s 2003 Toyota Corolla and pushed. His heels lifted from the exertion, but he kept going. Sweat dripped and fell on the black tarmac. Cars inched forward behind him, growing more and more discontent.

Step by arduous step, they crawled up the highway.

Of course this would happen on the hottest day in Gotham City since 1999.

Of course today, of all days, this would happen. The climax of the truly spectacularly shitty summer. The summer a la Bruce, with special appearances by judgement and paternal harassment. Of course Tim would forget to fill the car up with gas. Of course. Of course! OF FUCKING COURSE.

“Do you want me to push?”

Tim leaned to his left, meeting her eyes.  “No. Keep your eyes on the road.”

“Are you sure?”

“Steph!” he shouted. “Keep your eyes on the goddamn road!”

“Okay fine!”

Her head disappeared inside. Tim hissed, hands slipping off the hot metal. “Shit,” he muttered, throwing his weight into the next push. The car behind him hovered, then quickly cut into the next lane. Horns immediately started blaring. “Let them in!” he shouted, in a rare show of traffic consideration. “We’re not going anywhere, let them in!”

Gotham’s heart must have grown three sizes since Tuesday, because, miraculously enough, the car in the next lane let them in. A line of cars merged over like a shiny caterpillar in the sun. Tim wiped his brow on his shoulder, arms straining with effort.

This was shit. Complete and utter shit. It wasn’t even funny in that cosmic, haha, look at this human fail, what does he know sort of way. It was shit. That’s all it was. There wasn’t a bright side or a “trial of soul” as Jason liked to say. It was just shit. His life was shit, his relationship with his dad was shit, his job was going down the tube, everything was shit.

Tim grit his teeth. The next lane’s goodwill had worn off, so cars were piling up behind him again. It really was a matter of time before he was run over, and at this point he would welcome it.

The driver door slammed open. He looked up.

“Switch!” Steph yelled, popping out of the car and racing around it, “Switch!”

Tim, without knowing he was doing it, dashed to the front seat. “This is a dumb idea!” he said. He adjusted the seat.

“Keep the windows rolled down!” was the reply. “Sometimes the wind picks up and you get a faint breeze!”

“Steph!”

The car suddenly heaved forward.

“What did you do?”

“I kicked it!”

“Don’t kick the car!”

“It’s my car!”

“I’m going to push again!”

“No!” Another heave. “It’s my turn! You rest!”

The car was moving faster than it was before. Tim tried not to let that rankle. Of course he would fail at pushing, he couldn’t do anything right nowadays. If he ever had. He groaned, slamming his head back against the headrest. It was bull self-pity, but at this point it was all he had. Bruce had basically already kicked him out of the family, and now was attempting to get him out of Gotham. Which, you know, pissed him off. Gotham was his home too, and he didn’t go around ordering people out of it. It was like Jason said, they all served the same mistress. Helluva lover, though. Tim brushed his knuckles over his jaw; he winced. Since fighting with Bruce he hadn’t bothered to check in, not even for patrol, which had resulted in no back up with some rather nasty bruises to show for it. Was it immature? Yes. Did Bruce absolutely deserve it? Yes. Tim couldn’t believe that he had had to hide at Stephanie’s apartment to escape him. He had been wearing the same business suits in rotation for a week, too scared to go back to his place and be immediately jumped and shipped off to Oxford. He imagined himself stuffed into a suitcase, strapped down to the luggage area of the batplane. Tim frowned.

And yet on the other hand, why was he fighting this at all? Bruce had made it clear, been explicit when he threatened to fire him, that he didn’t want Tim around anymore. Which, he’ll be honest, hurt his feelings. A lot. (He may have laid face-down on Steph’s couch and emitted dying squirrel noises at low moments, couldn’t be sure.) Why did Tim always do this? Why did he stick his nose into places where he was unwanted? Why did he slide into places with no room and insist he be allowed to stay?

This…wasn’t what he wanted. None of this was what he wanted. Maybe it was better he just take the hint and go. He wasn’t legally part of the family anyways, having been emancipated years ago. After Bruce got his way, there would be nothing holding him here.

“This sucks,” he whispered.

“HUH?”

“I said this SUCKS,” he shouted out the window.

“It’s all right!” she shouted back encouragingly. “It’s just like my eighth birthday! You get to live a day in the life, rich boy!”

Tim closed his eyes. Hot tears gathered around his eyelashes, but he didn’t let them fall.

Bruce always got his way. One way or another, Bruce always got his way. It was like the universe was curved to suit him and all the rest of the sorry bastards had to fight for the scraps. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Nothing was ever fair, and that sucked.

Life sucked, Bruce sucked, Tim sucked.

“Tim!” shouted Steph. “Hon, you’re veering!”

Quick as a jolt, Tim opened his eyes and righted the wheels in the nick of time. Stephanie crowed in delight and the car heaved forward again from her kick.

Everything sucked.

But Stephanie didn’t.

Stephanie had been great about everything, like she always was. She hadn’t pushed him to explain and she made him coffee in the mornings, even gave him that stupid red mug that was made more for soup than coffee. She dealt with his stupid crap and mood swings and insisted that they go buy more suits for him because he was “starting to look like a business gigolo making ends meet” and had even made him laugh when he was being fitted because that’s what Steph did, she made everything brighter and happier and made the world not seem so bad.

Everything sucked, but Stephanie Brown didn’t.

“Switch!” he yelled suddenly, hopping out of the car, foot caught beneath the seat. He stumbled. “Switch!”

“No!” Stephanie yelled, but she was already halfway there.

“My turn!” Tim insisted, hair flopping in his eyes. He rounded the trunk, skidding into position. “Don’t worry, it’s my turn!”

Bruce always got what he wanted, but not this time. It was his turn. He pushed the car, ignoring the blisters on his heels.

Tim was staying.

“And they think you don’t know, they think you’re over the hills and simply believe them when they say they’re not doing what you know they’re doing. They think you’re an idiot that goes, ‘huh, they must be telling the truth because in this family we honor our word and respect each other enough to be honest.’ HAH!”

Maggie dropped her silverware.

“And you wonder, how long has this been going on? How long have you been going behind my back and doing EXACTLY what I told you not do!”

The couple at the next table looked over. Bruce didn’t notice.

“’Well, Dad, it’s been three weeks,” Bruce said, parroting a teenager’s voice. “And you haven’t confronted me so I’m going to assume that you’re alright with me lying to your face! Ha ha!’”

“This is really good,” Selina commented, taking another bite of her food.

“’Ha ha’?” Bruce repeated incredulously. “‘Ha ha’? How about I ground you for two months, that’s a ‘ha ha’ for me!”

“It’s got like this…” Selina quirked a brow in thought. “Lemony texture? It’s really fresh.”

“But you can’t do that, because while you were living your life, trying to ensure that everyone is doing alright because you can’t just let things go—”

“No kidding,” muttered someone behind them.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” said another.

“—like others do! You know what happens when other people let things go?” He waved his hands. “Nothing! You know what happens when I let things go? Cataclysm!”

“What?” asked Maggie, puzzled. She leaned closer to Simon. He took her hand under the table.

“So while you were trying to prevent another cataclysm, they go off and grow up! So you can’t ground them, you just have to look them in the eyes while they smile and wreak havoc and tell you everything is fine.”

“So good. I’m definitely getting dessert.”

“And you just want to…” Bruce mimed closing his hands around a neck, “wring them by their skinny little neck and say ‘I know you’re LYING to me, you little SHIT!’”

The couple jerked.

“‘I know you’ve been lying to me,’” Bruce continued, caught up in his fantasy. “‘I know allllll your lies! But I pretended not to notice, because I wanted you to be comfortable! Well, fat lot of good that did!” He slammed his hands on the table. The glasses chinked. Selina chewed on her calamari. “’Because now, NOW? You’re screwing up your own life!’” He yanked the wine glass and downed the contents.

The room was silent. Simon cleared his throat while Maggie shifted in her seat. Selina waved their waiter over and asked for another entrée to go.

Bruce closed his eyes, letting the wine fill his senses as a reprieve. “But yeah,” he said after a moment, “Other than that. Kids are great.”

Was the I-95 made out of fucking lava? He could hardly feel his feet, they felt like they had been freezer-burned like old strawberries.

“Switch!” shouted Stephanie. Tim gratefully sprang forward and dashed into the front seat. He would feel bad, would feel like he was slacking, but he knew his turn would come again. He and Steph had managed the time required to catch a breath before switching. Tim had expected to do it all by himself but Stephanie hadn’t let him. And he was glad of it.

Steph was just…wonderful. In good times and in bad, Steph supported him. Even when he was being an idiot.

He was…glad to be taking this next step with her. Taking the plunge. After all, if not now, then when?

The feelings bunched up in his chest, shooting down his veins, so he stuck his head out the window. “Steph!” he shouted. He sat up further, tucking a knee on the seat. “STEPH! Steph, I love you!”

“Thank you!” she shouted back. “And here I thought you were only with me for my ass!”

Tim shook his head. “No listen,” he instructed, leaning out as far as possible, “I love you! I really, really do!”

The car stopped.

“Really?!”

“Yes!”

The car began moving again.

“I love you too!”

Tim grinned. “I think this is going to work!” he shouted again. “What we’re doing, I think it’s going to work this time!”

“Us or the car?” she shouted.

“BOTH!” he hollered. “SWITCH!”

Tim hopped out and Stephanie ran forward. Instead of going around the front, Tim circled back and almost smashed into her. They both laughed, breathless and exhausted.

“September,” she reminded him, shaking her hair off her face, halfway in the car.

“September,” he repeated, already making his way to the back.

They smiled.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

A beat.

“Is this guy seriously honking?!”

“So when I said, ‘Let’s have lunch with my sister and her husband, tell ‘em about the engagement, really let them get to know you,’ you heard ‘have an absolute meltdown at the table; just fuck with them,’” Selina said, laughing. She swiped at her smeared lipstick and shut the sun visor mirror, leaning back and scrunching her hair in one hand. Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled. “I really screwed that up, huh?”

“Nah.” She popped one of the complimentary mints in her mouth. “I told them you thought you were Christian Bale, today is your method acting day.”

He looked up. “You did not.”

“Nope.”

“Selina.”

She giggled, leaning over to massage his shoulders. “What’s the deal with you today? You’re so tense,” she complained, fingers digging at a muscle knot.

He sighed, but not in pleasure. Selina frowned. She pinched him.

“Ow,” he said dully, yet didn’t bother to push her away. She sat back anyway.

Selina huffed. “Really, what’s going on?” she asked, crossing her arms. Bruce didn’t respond. “Don’t make me pinch you again,” she threatened, holding her fingers like pincers.

Her fiancé turned on the car, grumbling, “What do you think is going on? I just told every staff member of Vivace about my problems, not to mention my new family members.”

“Tim? Still?”

He frowned at her incredulity. “Yes, Tim, still,” he said, taking a sharp turn into traffic. A horn blared behind them.

“Aw, baby.”

“He’s just,” Bruce sighed. “I can’t…”

“I know,” she murmured. “Have you tried talking to him?”

He frowned.

“Bruce?”

No response.

“Bruce.”

“He won’t answer any of my calls,” he admitted irritably. That fact stuck like a thorn. Worse than a thorn. More like a two-by-four. And he had been hit by them before, he knew what it felt like. “He told me to stay away from him.”

“Did you?”

He didn’t reply.

Tim didn’t want to be around him. Every instance of Tim’s new life, every personal decision, from age seventeen onward, had created distance. At this point, Bruce would believe that it was purposeful. But just what had he done so wrong? What had made Tim wake up one day and decide to schedule Bruce out from Monday to eternity?  

Had Bruce failed? Worse yet, had Tim realized that and moved on?

Bruce wasn’t a proponent on fairness, but he did believe in justice. And justice was fair. And that meant that Bruce would get another chance, would get to see his son succeed and not be stuck choosing something he thought was right, something he had trained for. Something he thought was meant for, something that had made sense at a young age but wisdom and experience and death had tempered. Something that broke him, warped him, made him unable to recognize himself through the bruises. Something that was a lifelong mission and that sounded so grand at twenty-two, but at thirty-two it stings and at forty-two it aches. Something that made him less than what he was, what he should have been, if he only had just…taken a moment.

“Are you sure it’s the ring you’re worried about?”

Bruce blinked. “Pardon?”

“Is it marriage that concerns you?” Selina asked, peering at him with keen green eyes. She then smirked. “Should I be worried about that?”

“I just…don’t want him to do something he’ll regret,” he said, throat tight. Tim was still young. Too young. Tim was his, and Bruce had barely had him. To lose him to marriage, to adulthood? After everything? He didn’t think he could bear it.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Selina teased. “You haven’t heard from him. He could already be married. Then you have nothing more to worry about.”

Something caught his eye.

Tim’s location blinked on his phone. Bruce looked at it. He twisted the wheel.

“I’m going to confront him.”

“Okay, babe. I support you. Now, can you drop me off first before you—”

Bruce drove past her apartment.

“–okay.”

“Merge onto I-95,” instructed the GPS. Bruce flicked on his turn signal.

“You do realize I was just kidding about them eloping, right?”

Bruce didn’t reply.

Selina sighed, slipping on her sunglasses

“Here we go…”

[harveywritings92]

Cheater! Tim Drake x Reader Part 1

The following is a non profit fan based story Batman, Red hood, Nightwing etc. belongs to DC Comics please support the official release.

_

I gain no profit from this nor do I own anything other then OCs  and whatever sprouts from my imagination. Thanks for reading!

Y/n practically flew up the steps of Wayne manor she was so excited! She had to tell Tim, she got the voice acting gig she'd trying for Outta Wack productions! she was a voice actress and apart of the Trophy Scavenger team effective next week! She knocked and ringed the doorbell.

 Dick eating a bowl of cereal answered "ey y/nf!" he greeted as he swallowed a spoon full of Trix he moved aside to let her in Jason who was reading Terry Pratchett's Mort nodded and grunted at her as the h/c merrily walked inside "Is Tim in his room? I got big news!" She chirped and went upstairs practically skipping.

Dick chuckled at her enthusiasm then back to watching cartoons. When it slowly dawned on the brothers; they were pretty sure they both heard Y/n getting 'busy' with Tim in his room, they blanched as Dick was the first to speak "w-wait if Y/n just got here...." Jason whipped his head towards the stairs. "The who the hell is up there with Tim?!" Dick dropped his bowl while Jason bolted over couch and they ran upstairs to catch up with Y/n.

only hear a horrified "WHAT THE FUCK!" the two almost trip when they stopped in front of Tim's room to see a shocked and crying Y/n who was staring at Steph and Tim who were both naked and staring at the three stunned. no one moved nor said anything when a hollow bitter laugh came from the h/c a few seconds of her laughter she spoke up.

 "Jaime was fucking right..." she snorted as tears blurred her vision. "You fucking bastard! You knew I was cheated on in my last relationship! How could you!?"she demanded as taking a step towards them Dick held her back as the 'couple' flinched, the h/c was hands were shaking she so fucking distraught she "He and Bart told me you had a thing for Steph...Did I fucking listen--"

Y/n shook her head "No, Y'know what?...Fuck this! Fuck you both! you deserve each other!" She then turned to Tim took out the cellphone he had gotten her and threw it at him, the phone hit the raven haired boy in the head causing it to turn on and a picture of himself and Y/n came up on the lock-screen he looked down at it dazed.

"Never come near me again...I hate you Timothy Drake." she spat venom dripping off of every word Tim look sick as he watched her shove passed Dick and Jason who were still staring stunned that Tim would betray Y/n like this.

 "I'm gonna go make sure Y/n's alright, help her get home..." Jason muttered and followed after the heartbroken girl, While Dick just shook his head in disbelief at his younger brother disappointment and shame clear in his eyes "Way go Tim, you got the girl you always wanted..." said boy had yet to move from his spot eyes still glued to the phone screen.

Y/n... the way she looked at him with devastation and malice, her words kept echoing in his head "...I hate you Timothy Drake"  Every word felt like a dagger was twisting into his heart...Why? He wasn't in love with Y/n...he just using her,right? that was the plan...act as a rebound. Make Steph jealous then break-up with Y/n before it got too serious (he skipped that step.) and start dating Steph...after all that, He couldn't have fallen for Y/n, right?

The answer was pretty clear as his blue eyes stayed on the screen, focus on Y/n's happy face, it was mocking him. Tim felt dirty as every memory and moments they had shared together started replaying in his head. Tim hadn't realized he was crying until a few tears landed on the cellphone. He hadn't even noticed Steph curse him out and leave. 

Needless to say, the last couple weeks wasn't much of a shock to anyone. Steph wanted nothing to do with Tim, she punched him in the face when he tried talking to her, "You two timing sleaze! I had to find out from Barb, you and Y/n were dating for almost a year and six months! You lying son of a bitch!" she hit him again then called him every name in the book; 

Tim just stood there and took it knowing he deserved every bit of it "Well I hope it was fucking worth it, because we're through!" She yelled before storming off. And as for Y/n nobody seen or heard from her since the incident, and no one would tell him where she was, He asked Jason who was the last person to see her and he told Tim to shove it.

He ended up going to Y/n's apartment and a shady looking guy answer the door. Tim's jaw clenched he was pissed thinking Y/n had gotten together with this guy! he pushed himself passed the guy and looked around the apartment. His anger soon turned to fear and confusion to see all her stuff was gone and unpacked boxes littered the living room. 

"Hey, you can't ju-" The guy reached for Tim's shoulder only for the teen to grab his hand and bend it behind the man's back."Who the hell are you, what are you doing here?" the teen hissed the man winced feeling Tim's hold tighten he stuttered out his name and how he just bought the place from some depressed chick who's boyfriend cheated on her.

"How..do you know about that?"

 "S'what the neighbors told me, I take it the boyfriend is you?"

"Where's the girl now?"

"I don't know! some animation company hired her out of state...She's gone."

Tim's eyes widened he dropped the guy and just stared at his feet, the teen was silent for a few seconds then apologized walked out of the apartment and just as he was about leave he heard the guy speak up. 

"Y'know love is pretty confusing kid, Some are together for life... others aren't so great at it...But that doesn't stop them from trying, I hope it works out for the both of ya's..." Tim frowned taking what the guy said to heart and walked down the stairs and out into the street he stared blankly at the sky for a minute.

 Figures it would be a beautiful sunny day while he's miserable, he then locked on to to some trash cans that were left out, a sudden rush of anger overcame the teen his foot came up kicking one of them sending it crashing into a wall denting it. 

Tim let out a shaky breath then continued back to his car, thinking about how he had picture perfect life and a girl who loved him. and not for money, fame or any other form of greed. But loved him for being his own horrid self...And he threw that all away, because he couldn't let go of a stupid crush! 

Tim looked at Y/n's phone which was resting on his dash, He stared at it forlornly she must've known he put a tracker in it...Clever girl, Too bad he was to hung up on getting Steph to like him to notice at the time... It was a long drive back to the manor, Tim stayed hulled up in his room burying himself in work only coming out for patrol or if Alfred forced him out to eat, he made the wrong call and he's paying for it.  

2 years later...

"Tim my boy, someone your age should have a nice girl by his side..." And old man boasted to the young CEO, Tim mentally rolled his eyes annoyed and exhausted, listening to Mr. Georgeman boast about his grand-niece, every fricken time he went to gala, there was always some old money or debutante type who would try to set him up with their pretty young niece,cousin,daughter or granddaughter...

And every time he'd turn them down...he learned a long time ago saying that he'd "think about it." gave the parents and the girl false hope and the wrong impression; dates would be set up without his knowing, or he'd show up to a "lunch meeting" and see a living barbie doll dressed to the nines waiting for him.

 which would end in tears and embarrassment for them both when he turned them down, or the girls would show up at his job or apartment whining and wondering why he stood them up.

Now whenever ever a meeting was set up he'd double check to see who set it up and message them to cancel, it saves him the embarrassment and spares the girls their feelings. Tim was pulled out of his reverie by the old man patting his shoulder. 

"Well Mr.Drake would you be interested in my Luba?" the raven haired boy's eye twitched just a bit..."Erm... I'm sorry sir, I'm not looking for a relationship at the moment." Mr. Georgeman bristled at Tim's rejection and stomp away into the crowed which Tim surveyed he sighed checking his watch wondering if he's at that point where he's stayed long enough? and it was nearly quarter-past nine...

Tim hummed and slipped away from the ball room and out into the hotel lobby, when he saw a group of girls gasp when they saw him, They advanced towards him, Till one of them noticed something over his shoulder and shrieked excitedly, Tim sighed annoyed waited for the person to rush up to him and ask for a selfie or whatever only for the person to yell.

"Oh my god it's Y/n L/n!" Tim blinked Y/n...his Y/n? he whirled around as the girls forgot about him, and made a beeline for the h/c who wasn't alone he saw Jaime and Bart with her, but that's not what he was focus on...

His eyes instead were focused on the little raven haired girl who was freaking out and crying at all camera flashes going off. Causing Jaime to step in front of Y/n and the kid protectively, Bart took the baby from the h/c and got into the elevator while Jaime tried to get everyone to back up. "ey,ey everybody just needs ti calm down here" the Latino urged waving his hands. 

"Y/n!? was that Erin, she's gotten so big!"

"Whens your next album coming out?"

"Are you dating Bart or Jaime?"

"Did Erin get the dragon hoodie I sent?" 

"Will you marry me?"

Y/n was overwhelmed by the sudden ambush she barely had any breathing room to think! then she saw him... Tim standing a few feet from her. the h/c felt goosebumps form on her arms, as she watched his eyes narrow and he advanced towards her, she tugged on Jaime's shirt. 

"I see him too.." he said eyes glancing over his shoulder. Y/n took a deep breath and faced the crowed. "To answer your questions, Yes, June, neither, yes, NO!...anymore questons will be answered at the convention, goodnight!" Y/n and Jamie got into an elevator before Tim could reach them or anyone could stop them.

"That was too close!" Y/n sighed sliding down the wall Jaime sat down next to her. "You can't keep avoiding him, hermana." he said causing the girl to snort. "Yes I can! I've been doing it for two years." she huffed crossing her arms, the Latino frowned damn this girl is stubborn!

 "And what about Erin? what are you gonna do when she starts asking about her dad?" The h/c frowned she hadn't thought that far ahead, according to Bart; Her and Tim were apparently still together in the future, she scoffed when she heard that! As if she would take that cheater back! maybe in upside-down world! But in real life that bridge wasn't just burned, it was nuked beyond repair!

"Well what are you going to tell her?" Jaime asked again Y/n hummed "I don't know..." she mumbled Jamie patted her knee and they got up when the elevator pinged telling them they were at their floor, when they got to their room they found Bart waiting sitting on a chair watching TV while bouncing Erin on his knee, He looked nervous as he saw them come in "Tim called...He wants to meet with you." Y/n took Erin from him and balanced the toddler on her hip.

"Well, that's too bad c'os I don't want to meet him." Bart winced as she said this "it's kind of important that you meet him Y/n..." Speedster urged but, h/c wasn't having it, every time he even mentioned Tim she would stare or shoot him down, eventually the brown haired man begrudgingly dropped it. Both he and Jaime knew that Tim wasn't going let it go...he will find a way to get Y/n alone, especially since now Tim saw Erin...he was going want answers.

[cacchieressa]

@thatgirlnevershutsup​ tagged me so here we go: Rules: List the first five* lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have altogether. WIPs count). See if there are any patterns. *or so 1. and gravity, scientists say, is weak (Star Wars, Anakin & Obi-Wan [Obi-Wan/Satine]) Before he heads to Padmé's apartment, Anakin stops off at the quarters he still nominally shares with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka to change into clean clothes. Normally, he wouldn't bother, but Padmé doesn't like it when he gets engine grease on her furniture and he's currently covered in the stuff. When he opens the door, he's surprised to find Obi-Wan sitting at the table with a bottle of Tevraki whiskey in front of him and a mostly empty glass in his hand. "I thought you'd be out on the town with your duchess girlfriend," Anakin says, teasing. "She's not my--" Obi-Wan stops and sighs, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. 2. Everything That Rises Must Converge (Star Wars, Obi-Wan, Leia, Luke, Vader) Ben woke from a nightmare, one he hadn't had in years, of Anakin burning on the bank of a river of fire, calling out to him for help. He felt chilled to his bones, cold sweat drying on his skin. It was not yet dawn, but he knew he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep that day. Perhaps not for a few days to come, if he was going to be plagued by old nightmares. The Force was shifting, unsettled, around him, unnerving after his nightmares.

This gets long so the rest goes behind a cut:

3. if you find yourself lost, dig (Star Wars, Rey & Leia) Rey let herself get lulled into a false sense of security. The mission itself had seemed simple enough. "Fly me to these coordinates," the General had said, and so Rey had strapped herself into the pilot's seat of the Millennium Falcon and flown. "Stand there and look intimidating," the General had said. So Rey had stood just behind her with her face set in a blank mask and a hand on the hilt of her lightsaber while the General negotiated for the use of an old Rebellion base on Cardooine with the queen of the planet. 4. No Exit (Star Wars, Darth Vader/Ahsoka Tano) Darth Vader sat in silence as medical droids buzzed around him, repairing his life support system and replacing his damaged helmet. I won't leave you. Not this time. Ahsoka's words rang in his memory, tearing open scars he'd thought long since healed over. She was dead, or she would be soon. It should have been pleasing. 5. If You Wear That Velvet Dress (Push, Nick/Cassie) The shop is packed with uncomfortable-looking furniture and racks of clothing. It smells of steam heat, damp wool coats, and desperation. They fit right in, Nick thinks as he shoves through rack after rack of women's clothes before finding the men's section. "I'm not gonna find a tux at Goodwill," he says.
 Cassie glances over from where she's fondling a leather jacket. "Not at this Goodwill anyway," she agrees, surprising him. 6. The Extraterrestrial Elf Emergency (The Middleman, Wendy & the Middleman) "And there were no signs of any disturbance?" the Middleman asked. "Other than the fact that someone did that to my doghouse?" the witness--a local homeowner named Charles Brown--responded, gesturing towards the garishly decorated and lit doghouse in his backyard. Gold garland glittered in the blink blink blink of hundreds of twinkling red and green lights. A sign wishing everyone a Merry Christmas blinked in counterpoint. "No." 7. belief undoes your disbelief (Star Wars, Baze/Chirrut) It's not a question of belief. Baze knows the Force exists; like gravity, like time, he is subject to its effects on his life whether he believes in it or not. He’s never believed in much-–the accuracy of his aim, his ability to reload on the run, and the accumulation of credits in order to pay for the finer things in life, or at least a bed and a shower and a hot meal when the finer things (and the credits) are in short supply. People disappointed him early–-the family who died or left or failed to keep in touch when he was the one who left. And friends only last as long as the credits and Correllian ale keep flowing. 8. Bait and Switch (DCU, Steph/Jason) Steph's a lot smarter than the dumb blonde most people take her for, so she's clocked the guy tailing her across campus within the first five minutes, on the long walk from Kane Hall to the Burton Auditorium for her Literature and Civilization lecture. She can't get a good look at him, but he's tall and broad-shouldered and wearing a leather jacket, which could mean he's an annoying LAX bro who's seen too many rom-coms and thinks stalking is romantic or a member of a gang who wants to kill her. Some days it's hard to tell the difference. He doesn't follow her into the lecture hall, though, so she spends the next hour taking notes about existentialism and wondering if Sartre had visited Gotham before he formulated the maxim that hell is other people, and what he'd have thought about vigilantism. She doesn't ask the professor though. She tries not to draw attention in her classes. 9. with our way lit only by stars (Earthsea, Ged/Tenar) It was deep winter, a time when the snow came as regularly as the sunrise, and the sunrise finally came earlier each day, when Tenar awoke from dreams of the sea. She had never been one to put too much stock in dreams; life was complicated enough without adding unnecessary prophecy to it. But the dreams returned night after night for a week and then two. She could almost taste the salt on her lips, and feel the swell of the waves even in their bed of sturdy oak. "Divination was never my gift," Ged said when she finally mentioned them to him, after her tossing and turning woke him after yet another week in which the dream bore her across the seas. "But if you feel there's something you must do, you should do it." 10. Celestial Navigation (Star Wars, Finn/Rey, Anakin) "Go, go, go, go," shouts flight control and the next wave of ships launches, the roar of their engines momentarily drowning out the whine and screech of the TIEs and the X-Wings wheeling above and the staccato bursts of blaster and anti-aircraft fire. The Falcon's entry ramp vibrates under the soles of Finn's boots, but they can't take off without Luke and he's not here. Finn reaches out with the Force--Rey's in the cockpit, right where she's supposed to be, but Luke is somewhere else, his brightness accompanied by the banked fire of the General's presence. Finn's comm crackles to life, and through all the static and the noise, he can hear Luke say, "I'm with Leia and Chewie on Command One. Get on the Falcon and get out. I'll catch up with you at the rendezvous point." "Yes, sir," Finn snaps out, and pounds up the gangway. "Rey, let's go!" 11. what spring does with the cherry trees (Star Wars, Anakin/Ahsoka) It's the middle of the night shift on their second day in hyperspace when Anakin realizes he hasn't seen Ahsoka since they boarded the Resolute. It's not unusual for either of them to sleep for a full rotation after a prolonged mission, but they generally check up on each other afterwards--she makes sure he finishes his after action reports and he makes sure she eats and hydrates, and they go over everything that happened and what they could do better next time. He reaches out in the Force but gets nothing back but a vague irritation, like an itch he can't quite scratch in the back of his skull. He finds Rex in the ready room, hunched over a datapad and a mug of caf. They review some intelligence reports that have come in from Coruscant and speculate about their next deployment, and then he asks, "Have you seen Ahsoka?" 12. the dream of flight persists (Star Wars/Firefly; Anakin/Kaylee) It was easier to get work when the twins were babies. In the aftermath of Palpatine's ascension, there was a lot of chaos as the people who understood what was coming fled to the Outer Rim, and many of them needed a pilot or a mechanic (or both) to manage their pre-war freighters or cruisers. People didn't ask as many questions when they saw a grieving young father trying to care for his adorable infants on his own. Now, it's more difficult, because the kids can't just be strapped into the copilot's seat while they nap or carried around on his back when he pushes his way through a cantina or marketplace looking for a berth. They talk too much, ask innocent questions that no one wants to answer, least of all Anakin himself, and while his skills tend to allow a certain type of people to ignore his famous face, he hates having to trust his children's lives to that kind of greed masquerading as kindness. He's tried leaving them with Owen and Beru, but none of them fared well with the separation, though Beru was more than happy to keep them. They've already lost their mother; he's determined they don't lose their father, too. Not after how close they came to losing everything because of his stupidity. 13. I'm crawling on your shore (Six of Crows, Kaz/Inej) The important thing, Kaz thinks after they fish him out of the water, is that no one can tell how irrationally terrified he was. The slight shivers could be attributed to the dunking he'd taken in the harbor, rather than his horror at being submerged and almost drowned. By the time the fight is over and he's on the deck of The Wraith, he has it under control, though the cold night air is colder against wet skin and clothes. The sensation is nauseating, but he swallows it down and grits his teeth until business is handled. It takes more than an unexpected dip in the ocean to throw Kaz Brekker. At least, that's what he needs people to believe. 14. Just a Little Bit of History Repeating (Star Wars, Vader & Leia) Assassination attempts in the Senate decreased sharply after the Emperor came to power, at least the ones that took place in the actual Senate building. As such, over the years, when he was not present while the Senate was in session, security had become lax. Needless to say, it was a bit of a shock to everyone in the massive room the day half a dozen assassin droids spilled out of the vents and began shooting. Darth Vader was, unfortunately, present, and able to make short work of the droids, even though he felt that the Empire would be better off if some of the sybaritic sycophants who served in the Senate were destroyed. He was no politician but he understood that it would look bad if they were murdered on his watch rather than at his command. 15. The Rumor of Rain (Star Wars, Shmi, Anakin, Obi-Wan, Luke, Rey) One of Shmi's earliest memories is of drops of water hitting her face and sliding down her cheeks--not tears, she thinks then--so she doesn't discount the possibility of rain, the way the other slaves do. (It's not until years later that she realizes they were not her tears.) Spacers are full of wild tales, more hyperbole than truth, but the galaxy is vast and Tatooine is one small dusty corner of it. The elders' stories say the desert used to be lush and green before war brought desolation with it, and there's still water out there for those who know how to look, for those the desert takes into its care. Shmi has always found comfort in those stories, in knowing that a thing doesn't need to be seen to be true. 16. There's Still Time to Change the Road You're On (Star Wars, Anakin, Luke, & Leia) Anakin frowns as he brings his starfighter in for a landing next to the circle of standing stones that mark the dead drop. Jakku is not quite as terrible as Tatooine--there's only one sun, thank the Maker--but it's still full of sand and heat. He grumbles about it as he slides down the ladder and his feet hit the ground. He's going to be finding sand in his boots for weeks, and no matter how much he shakes out his clothes, the cockpit of his starfighter will also to be full of sand, and Padmé will scold him for leaving trails of sand in her sheets. He growls low in his throat even though there's no one around to hear him. He's sure this is all Obi-Wan's fault somehow. 17. The Only Way Through (Star Wars, Ahsoka & Obi-Wan) Ahsoka glares at the flashing lights on the steering console and swears loudly when a sharp thump with her fist doesn't fix the problem. The ship reverts to real space and she braces herself, annoyed and rueful. She's survived too much to die like this, in a stolen Imperial ship that is apparently falling apart at the seams, but the Force is with her, because there's nothing nearby--no ships, no moons, no unexpected stars or black holes or gravity wells to swallow her up. She sighs in relief and sinks back into the pilot's seat, letting the tension leach from her shoulders and breathing her fear into the Force. She gives herself a couple of moments to relax and savor the feeling of not being dead yet, and then she gets to work. 18. The Wild Chance of Living (Star Wars, Ahsoka/Aphra, Vader) Whispers have dogged Ahsoka since her unexpected return from Malachor. She's used to it--rumors and gossip have followed her since she was Anakin's padawan, and she learned then not to take it personally. The distrust is also familiar, if more unpleasant. She remembers the taste of it from the war--from civilian populations and unfamiliar clone troopers, and occasionally, from other Jedi who didn't like her master--and from the years after, when she'd had to make her way hidden and alone. It's new among the Rebels, though. 19. The Black Knight (HP, Sirius/Remus) Remus placed the tray on the table with a thump, cutlery and china rattling. Sirius let out a low moan and lifted his head from where it rested against the cool mahogany. "Breakfast, sir," Remus said crisply, and removed the cover to expose runny eggs and bacon congealing in its own grease. "Ugh." "Will that be all, sir?" Sirius turned his head slowly to look at Remus. "Stop looming, Remus. Sit down." Remus's jaw tightened, the only sign of anger on his otherwise blank face, but all he said was, "Is that an order, sir?" "Yes. And dammit, stop calling me sir." 20. The reoccurring kind (MCU, Steve/Bucky) Steve still dreams of this sometimes, the whisper-soft touch of Bucky's lips on his skin, followed by the rough brush of his stubble or the wet velvet of his tongue. He used to wake up hard and aching after those dreams, frustrated and desperate and angry and sad all at once over something he wanted more than anything and knew he would never--could never--have, thanks to society, his health, the war--and once he'd had it, never have again, thanks to the ice, HYDRA, the Accords. He has it now. Bucky is warm and solid in bed with him, acres of bare skin begging for the touch of Steve's hands and mouth. He still has to fight the urge sometimes to break away and pick up a charcoal--has done it occasionally and they've both ended up smudged and gray in places charcoal probably wasn't ever meant to be. Luckily, skin is easy to wash clean, and the serum gave him an eidetic memory, so he can always draw Bucky later.

I don’t really have anything to say about them? Some should have been rewritten and some, no amount of rewriting could help. I feel like I try to shove as much exposition as possible into those first few lines to get it over with so I can get on with the story. But I am not and never have been great at first sentences. I feel lucky people bother to read my stories at all sometimes.

[demiseseyes]

#ask #anon #dc #jason todd #stephanie brown #dc comics #batman #oifaaadoodles #should say jason and steph are still only like 1 to 2 years apart in age here #its just that steph is toll and jason is smol #but yeah I've said before that steph is the only other person who could do the red hood thing #but it would also looking vastly different to how jason does it #and would have to begin vastly differently

hot take the only bat who both could and WOULD do the red hood thing better than jason is steph, partially because he thinks it's hilarious and secretly bails her out of whatever trouble she gets in that she can't handle solo. tim hates it, tries to out-hood them for a week, and immediately cringefails himself straight to jail. or the hospital. or both.

Ngl thought we were still talking about this in a reverse robin setting to begin with and it just sounded so cute like