#sir alfred would be all 'well its about damn time'

[stucky-just-stucky]

@rillils RILLSLLSLSLSLSLLSLSSSSS !!!!!!!!!! OUR BOYSSSSSSSSSSSSSS THYE LOOK SO JGOODDDDDDDD OH MY GODDDDDDD

✧ "𝙸 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍."

✧ "𝙸 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛."

ɪɢ x  ᴛᴡɪᴛ x

[impyssadobsessions]

Excerpts from my WIPS ;3 Guess Which story and when- or if its a story even up. If ya want.

----DPxDC

“Keep communication lines on, we'll be moving towards your location.” Batman had replied, which made Nightwing clicked his teeth. “How much should I bet you're not going to do that?” Dick turned to ask Jason as both of them hopped off the bike. “Do what? I didn't hear anything.” “Okay, so a hundred at least.” Nightwing hummed, as he followed Red-Hood back towards the abandon lab.

----DPxDC

"-One time she sent DASH! To babysit ME! I'm older than both of them now. Y'know how awkward that was? Though the look on Dash's face was hilarious.” Dick smirked, raising a brow. “The guy that bullied you? Why did she ask him?” “Ah, probably because he's a puppy that'll do whatever my sister asks. She knows it too.” Danny clicked his tongue as his face grimaced at the implications of it. “I may or may not have... scared him a few times. I do like a disappearing act.” Dick grinned as he could imagine what Danny meant. He did seem to take any form of “keeping tabs” on him as a challenge. Danny smirked back, a mischievous glint in his eye, before dropping his face. “Jazz was REALLY upset about it. I had assumed this was her being overbearing and protective like usual-I didn't realize how hard this was on her.” The guilt thick in his throat. “She broke down crying and.. I promised her I'll stay out of the house when she's not home. 'Cause I didn't know what to do.. or say. I just..” “Thought of the easiest solution?” “Yeah... I guess.” Danny shrugged, defeated.

---------DPxDC

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shouldn't you be resting, sir?” Alfred scolded. A small amused smirk on his lips as he carried lunch on a tray. Bruce just made a grunt. His eyes glued to the screen of the laptop. Images, news articles, videos. Whatever he could find was displayed on the screen, while he bit at the end of his pencil. A notepad next to him. “Ah yes, very informative answer, Master Bruce.” Alfred set down the tray on the nightstand beside his bed. There was more than just lunch on the tray as it carried a medical kit. Bruce sighed. He shoved the laptop to the side and struggled to sit up more so Alfred could replace his dressing. “This whole situation just crawls under my skin.” “I say it does, sir.” Alfred's hands move quickly to help replace the doctor's handy work. “Secret government organization, children in peril, and the boarder between life and death getting thinner by the day. Certainly sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

---------BULLY

Pete glanced back up at Mr. Smith. The man was eyeing him carefully, waiting for a reply. He must care about Gary in some way to go through this much trouble, right? And... it would be easier to contact Gary's grandfather than dealing with the headmaster. Pete bit his lip as he thought. “Um, Okay. S-sure.” “Atta boy! Hahaha!” Allen laughed as he smacked his hand on Pete's shoulder, making him stumble. Pete really needed to work on not being pushed around so easily. “Though, if you can mange to keep little Garreth in line, I'll add in a little bonus for your trouble. Since you're doing more than half what I was paying this damn school to do.” “That's not-” “Some good advice. Never work for free, Pete. Consider it a token of gratitude. After all, I think we both know watching my grandson isn't an easy task.” Allen winked.

--------DPXDC

Tim had no idea how he was going to pull this off. His eyes glancing from the Fenton parents to the boy he met yesterday, Danny Fenton. He knew he was dead. At least, was ghostly in some way. Danny didn't act or looked how Greta did, but Greta was visible as Deadman wasn't. So perhaps ghosts varied drastically? Either way, Danny being dead wasn't even the part that was bothering him. It was knowing he had to pretend he didn't know- while Danny sat right next to his oblivious killers. Well, the word killer might be too harsh. Tim theorized it was an accident regarding with a portal that opened on top of Danny. Which might also explain Danny's unique qualities.

---------DPxDC

“...Danny has traces of... Lazarus pit... stronger than yours.” Tim answered, with a concerned tone. They were afraid of how Jason would take it. And Jason was not taking it well, as he felt cold rage deep in his veins. The icy chill as he acknowledged that not only was Danny his blood... he shared the worse part of his blood. The reminder that they... Had died. Those scars... that was how Danny died and so far knowing their luck, he doubted it was painless. “Little Wing? Jay bird? You there, I'm almost at your location. How's Danny?” Dick called on the comms. Jason pulled the boy more into his jacket, giving him the best attempt of a hug he could. “Better than the fuckers who did this to him will be.”

------DPXDC

Danny had made an unfortunate discovery. His powers, like all ghosts, were based on emotion. Other's emotions. Even worse, the strongest one was fear. Fear fed on itself and grew stronger and stronger. And what made him discover this, made his heart sink with dread. He was stuck powerless in Gotham as his friends were laughing themselves to death along with other hostages in the room. Danny cursed at himself for listening to Sam. He should have phased them out of there, regardless of Batman's no meta rule. Now the only fear emitting into the room was his own. They were too far from others for him to feed off of, and ectoplasm was low. No.. more like the ectoplasm was being pulled away from the ground of Gotham and seeping into some other being that was far too greedy. “Well, well, well~ Look what we have here? A little party pooper!” A man with green hair and clown painted face cackled, as he waltz his way over to Danny. The black-hair teen ripped his eyes from his friends, glaring at the man. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, while he stayed knelt over his friends. “Funny, most parties I've seen at least has music.” Danny was feeling sweat dripping off his face. He needed to do something fast, but if he couldn't transform.. then he wasn't sure what else he isn't able to do. Not like this man looked fit, but... Danny knew danger when he sees it. “Ah, but this is music! To my ears at least, ehehehehe!”

----------CAMP CAMP

“Ah. Smell that, Gwen?” “Smell what.” “That fresh breeze! We had gone a full twenty-four hours without a single camp activity catching on fire.” “Huh, I guess you're right! This camp only smells half as shitty-” “Where's Max?” Both Gwen and David utter out in realization as it had dawn that neither of them had seen the troublesome trio since breakfast. --- “Don't worry Max! We'll save you once I finish chewing off my leg-” “Nikki! DON'T!” “Well... I'm fucked.”

[002yb]

For the secretary au I wonder what would happen if Jason ever had to take Damian to the office for any reason like he was sick and really clingy or the babysitter had to cancel last minute (also I hope this doesn't bother you and if it does feel free to ignore it)

Chances are that if Damian is sick, Jason will take time off until his boy is back in good health. Damian and his well-being takes precedent over everything for Jason, so regardless of the situation/circumstances, Jason is staying at Damian's side. Damn anyone that tries to take him away, too.

The first time Jason calls out of work, it's with little explanation. Bruce receives a text/email explaining that Jason needs to take a sick day. And of course Bruce frets, but he lets it go with a simple, 'Understood. Feel better.'

Then Jason calls out again the next day and Bruce immediately gets so intense about it. Like there's an actual aura coming from his office as he sits at his desk and doesn't do any work because he's brooding behind the steeple of his hands.

He's using every bit of willpower not to overstep bounds to go and see Jason and bring him a care package or a doctor and--

Tim heaving the greatest of sighs because it's probably a cold, just give him a few days to recover. Stop being weird.

But then another day passes and Jason is still calling out sick and suddenly Tim is right there alongside Bruce, sat across from him at his desk. And they stew together and contemplate their game plan.

They conference call Alfred and Dick to loop them in to this really deep, convoluted plan (courtesy of Tim, who steamrolls the conversation; Bruce is so on board though - the true disaster duo) to check in on Jason and get him help; Bruce has his concierge doctor on call, so—

Alfred chiming in because, 'Or you could message him on his condition, sirs.' Or if Jason needs anything.

Which strikes Bruce and Tim dumb because, yeah. That's a real well-adjusted way of doing it. Huh. Cue embarrassed CEO and COO who stay suspiciously quiet because such a simple thing didn't make its way into any of their considerations/plans

So Dick interrupts because he's already done the above. Back on day one. You know. Like the average person does?

Tim grumbling about how Dick is far from average. Meanwhile Bruce is back to being intense because, 'what is his status?'

Long story short: Damian is down with a cold/flu; Jason is taking care of him.

Bruce stating that he's contacting the concierge doctor immediately; they can get Damian in to a pediatrician at the nearest children's hospital and—

Alfred cutting Bruce off by asking Dick if Jason needs help. Because Alfred is happy to assist.

And Dick lets them both down easy, because he's got it under control

Which. What? Traitor.

Just Dick already being there to help out. Running errands and taking care of Jason while Jason is busy caring for Damian. Maybe a bit of Dick looking after Damian, too ;U;

Ffffffff just the cuteness of Dick seeing Jason care for Damian and being reminded of how his mother used to look after Dick, way back when. The softness, the fretting. Forehead kisses to check for fever, fingers combed through sweat mussed hair. Lukewarm towels to heated skin and gentle soothing with the coming of chills and the desire for heat. Just little back rubs and assurances until Damian dozes off from exhaustion.

And the sweetness of Dick going to buy medicine and making sure Jason is taken care of, too. Cutting fruits or bringing easy meals. Cleaning up when Damian gets sick over himself and the floor ;n; Holding Damian to his chest while they're all on the couch so that Jason can doze for just a few minutes (only for Jason to wake a couple hours later to Dick walking slow through the apartment, Damian's head cradled to his chest as he talks at him, voice low and calm and steady enough to help Damian drift back off)

Something something Jason resting his head against the back of the couch and watching them fondly. And when Dick realizes that Jason is awake and watching, he smiles but carries on as he was

Sitting at the table, slouched over cups of coffee after putting Damian down in his bed to rest properly. And Jason thanking Dick for the help, but he doesn't need to put himself out for them

Only Dick isn't. Not at all

Then they talk. Quiet in the low light of the kitchen, in those hours between late and early.

(Specific talking point: slipped comment on how certain things Jason did reminded Dick of his mom. And Dick is so fond that Jason feels something like pride—so flattered he might be endeared. It's such a sweet comparison to draw, especially since Dick holds his parents in such high regard)

(Other talking point: Jason asking if Dick has kids because he's really good with them. Which Dick huffs a laugh about and tells Jason no (and it sounds a little sad, a little melancholic because infertile!Dick Grayson agenda, yep). Which Jason thinks is a shame. He'd make a good parent. And the sentiment wounds Dick so much it's so sweet ;3;).

Anyway, Dick relays to the family that Damian is just about recovered. And that Jason should be back to work soon. And that it'd be a real shame if he came back to a ton of work that the CEO and COO couldn't get done in his absence. ◉‿◉

Alternative sick!Damian situations, or just a continuation from the above:

Where Alfred offers to look after Damian (after he recovers from the worst of the cold/flu and is on the mend)

Jason being reluctant because he doesn't want to put Damian's fussiness on anyone, let alone Alfred

Although nearly back to 100%, Damian gets clingy and ornery after he's been sick and once Jason returns to not being available all hours

But Alfred insists because that's his grandson it doesn't matter how fussy he is he raised Bruce; he's got this

Which makes Jason snicker and eventually relent

At which point Alfred gets quality time with Damian and although Damian sleeps most of the time, Alfred is 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ about it

As for Damian being at WE...

It's an anticipated visit and Damian dresses for business, toddler/small child though he may be lol

He's well behaved because Jason asks him to be, spending most of his time drawing

When anyone dares to approach Jason's desk though, the Al Ghul demon glare comes out and scares them off hahaha

Since Damian is tucked away behind him, Jason wouldn't notice. He'd just be confused because usually his co-workers put up a bit more of a fight?

It's Tim who overhears about the cutest guard dog sitting at Jason's workstation -- so protective and sweet! Sometimes coworkers walk that direction just to see the sour expression that takes over Damian's features. Then they'll leave and laugh over how sweet it is.

Tim witnessing the intense scowl for himself and grimacing because wtf, there's nothing cute about that it's so intimidating??

======

Thank you for the ask!! It wasn't a bother at all. This was really fun to reply to, so thank you again. Sorry for the delay though. <3

[unrestrainedbalderdash]

I have another Riddler & Reader fanfic! It will have multiple chapters, you can read it on AO3 or read it below the cut :)

Disclaimers:

I'm very inexperienced when it comes to writing, I'm just an oriented aroace who's fuelled by desperation, spite and Riddler brainrot

Allos can interact but please be mindful that it isn't for you

I'm English so there may be language differences if you're American

Rating: This chapter is teen but in future the fic will probably be mature for some violence and trauma

Warnings: Swearing, near-death experience, kidnapping kind of (it's a little complicated, but it's not as scary or anything)

Reader insert info: Vigilante, Batfam member, not good at riddles, a bit of an idiot

Word count: 2571

You hold the cape tighter around you as you glance over the case files. You glare at the jigsaw pieces, your hands shaking too much to put them together well. Alfred comes down the service elevator, his tray carrying two mugs. “Thank you!” you say, taking the hot chocolate, as Batman gives a little grunt of appreciation and starts sipping the coffee. Alfred gives a little shiver. “Sir, might I suggest we have a check in with our old friend Victor?” “Hmh. Batcomputer, which inmates are in Arkham?” Batman asks. You manage to put two of the pieces of the sprawling jigsaw together as the computer lists off people registered as currently in Arkham. You let out a sigh of frustration, hoping that soon the Riddler will be on that list. Batman scowls at the screen. “That’s odd. Energy readings in his cell are lower than usual. It’s night time, the inmates should be sleeping,” he says. “He’s escaped?” you say, taking a sip of the hot chocolate and letting the marshmallows flow onto your tongue. “Well, I do believe we know who our culprit is,” Alfred says. “Freeze willingly admitted himself into Arkham. He seemed regretful of everything and wanting the help. Why would he now escape?” Batman asks. You take a long sip of the hot chocolate and look at Batman – any excuse to take your eyes off of that damned puzzle with its garish colours. He looks at you. “I’ll investigate. Get some rest,” Batman says. You and Alfred start to go upstairs. You can hear the roar of the Batmobile below you, but as soon as you cross the threshold into Wayne Manor, you can’t hear it anymore.

That night, you dream of the Riddler. He’s laughing, and you run after him, but he’s always out of reach. You leap at him desperately, and shatter on the ground into tiny little jigsaw pieces. He starts putting them together, forming the word idiot – stupid – fool – it is constantly changing. When you wake up, you are shivering. You realise this is not from the dream, but is from the cold.

The next days are a blur. Crime is soaring, and you spend most of the time alone in the Batcave, with Alfred frequently coming down with warm drinks, snacks, and encouragement. Sometimes Batman comes back, hot on the trail of Mr Freeze. Occasionally, Robin comes in after going on patrol. You wish Oracle was available to help. She’s a genius. But there are serious threats with danger to life, while all the Riddler has been doing is draining bank accounts every day, something which can easily be reversed once he is stopped. With every bank account, the owner logs into the website only to find that instead of their balance, they see a riddle. You’re pondering the answers as you glare at the geometric shapes on the jigsaw.

Wait… they look like… a map…

On the largest segment you’ve assembled, you recognise it as your favourite park you used to go to. Before.

You think about the answers to the riddles. You have a hunch. And you’re going to act on it. That night, after Alfred sees the dark circles under your eyes and sends you to bed, you sneak back into the Batcave. This is your chance to prove yourself. This is your chance to finally meet an A-list Rogue. You’re walking out of the Batcave, running, tightly holding your cape around you. The air is chillier as you get deeper into the city. You hear the crunching of snow beneath your feet. Teeth chattering, you glance back, and see the footprints are gone, already filled in with more snow. You have to persist. You can’t tell if you’re on the grass yet. The snow is too deep and you can’t feel the texture of the ground. Now you can’t feel your feet. The crunch of the snow is slowing. You can barely see through all of the snow. Snowflakes are falling all around, and your cape is covered in white, as you can finally see something through the white of the blizzard. You will your arm to move, and it creeps forward, getting closer to the door, closer… closer… closer…

Stop.

Stripes of warmth streak across your face. You will yourself to make your brain fire signals that cause your eyelids to slowly, slowly creep open, painstakingly slow, too slow, it’s like there’s no energy left in your body. You see… him. His gloveless hands are stroking both sides of your face, filling it with warmth. You want to yell at him, insult him for tormenting you with that hellish jigsaw puzzle, but your mouth sluggishly opens then hangs there as no sound comes out. The Riddler’s face is so close to yours, his breath warm on your skin. Your eyes start twitching as he continues gently rubbing your cheeks. You want to move away from this villain who has you at his mercy, but you can’t even feel the rest of your body. It is evident that some colour has returned to your face, as he takes his hands away, and takes your gloves off, beginning to hold your hands. Warmth floods through them. You try to tell him to go away, but instead you make a pathetic little whimper. He strokes your hands. “Shh. You have the honour, the privilege of having your life saved by the Prince of Puzzles. I haven’t taken your mask off, it would be too easy to reveal the identity of an idiot like you when I can easily deduce your identity by myself,” he says, the warmth of his hands filling your hands, and the condescension of his words filling your mind with the urge to smack him. “Come on, how foolish, little Bat! We’re in a one digit temperature! You seriously expected you could waltz into my lair wearing nothing but that silly outfit?” He gives a condescending laugh. Your face heats up, a mixture of rage and embarrassment. “Good, that’ll thaw you out.” He smirks. You can’t take how insufferable he is, and you start to move your arm, willing your blood to try and flow through the arteries and make the muscles start moving, rising – he tightly grips your wrist, and uses his fingers to unclench your fist. You glare at him as you can’t stop your fingers from sinking into his. “Ah, ah, ah, vigilante! You wouldn’t be planning to hit me, would you?” he says, a cheeky smile on his incredibly punchable face. His purple mask is creasing at the eyes. “Jig… saw… fuck… you…” you say, the words finally coming out of your mouth. It doesn’t even feel like you’re talking. He gives a little chuckle. “Oh my, you’ve taken a long time, haven’t you? I would have assembled it all a week ago! Anyway, little Bat, I can’t have you trying to hit me, even if I am irresistible,” he says, a smug smile on his face. He gets up for a bit and goes to a drawer, as you try desperately to wiggle your fingers and get the blood rushing back to your arm. You need to hit this smug man. He strides back over to you, and catches your sluggish fist with ease, enveloping it with his warmth. He hooks a handcuff around your fist, and closes it, before cuffing the other hand. Your arms droop down as soon as he lets go of the bulky cuffs. “The little Bat isn’t strong enough for some measly handcuffs? My, my, they let anyone be a vigilante these days,” he says, with a little chuckle. You grimace, and his expression softens a little. He pats you on the head with his warm hand. In his other hand is a remote control. “There’s a reason why it’s so heavy. I wouldn’t put you through meaningless suffering, little Bat,” he says, pressing the button. Instantly, you feel warmth flowing into your wrists. You can feel your glare melt away as the warmth spreads through your arms. “There we are. That’ll warm you up!” he says, clapping his hands together and giving a little smile, “Isn’t it ingenious?” His mask widens. He’s giving puppy eyes. “What do you… want…” “For one of the Bat-Kids not to die on the doorstep of my secret hideout? How old even are you, anyway?” “Not… a kid!” “It doesn’t matter, you’re a mere child compared to me. What are you doing up so late on a school night?” “Man… child!”

He feigns an offended look. At least, you hope he’s feigning it. What if he isn’t? “S-sorry,” you say, the thoughts getting the better of you. He gives a little laugh. “It was a joke, child child,” he says, giving you another headpat. Now that you’ve given up on the idea of punching him in the face, you have to appreciate the warmth and softness of his hands. You can feel your body again as the warmth spreads. He gives a little smile and ruffles your hair. “You’re the most adorable person I’ve ever kidnapped.” You tense up, cold dread rushing through you, but it makes a lot of sense. Why would he just let you go? His eyes scan your expression. “Hey. I’m not as lowly as such cretins as the Joker. I won’t be hurting you. I don’t need to, I could easily defeat you in a battle of wits.” You pause. “Kid, you were unconscious an hour. Frozen. In that time, I invented these heated handcuffs especially for you with my genius wit, all the while trying to keep your body warm enough for you to not die. Would I go through all of that trouble just to kill you?” he says, a sincere look on his face.

“That bloody jigsaw was killing me,” you say. He lets out a laugh. “How long did it take for you to put it together and solve it?” “I didn’t put it all together. I had a section of around 30 pieces done, and realised it was a map. I was thinking about the riddles in the bank account hackings, and I had a hunch.” “A hunch?! You came out here in a blizzard on a hunch?!” he says, incredulous, “I don’t know if I should laugh or be concerned!” You look away, embarrassed. He puts his warm hand on your shoulder. “Well… it was the right hunch. Even though you were incredibly foolish. I haven’t heard of you, so I’m assuming you’re new. Don’t take risks like that until you’ve got some experience under your belt.” You glance down, and see that he has removed your utility belt. You glance around the room. The walls are made of the building’s original stone, but filled with electrical gizmos and lights, and covered in writing and little doodles in green. There are drawings of Batman in increasingly comical deathtraps.

“What… will you do to me?” you ask. “Well, I’ll be keeping you hostage. As soon as it’s warm enough to leave the building, I’ll be using you as bait to lure Batman into my clutches,” he says. “I’ll be keeping you alive and well while we bide our time.” You have a sinking feeling. You’re his hostage now. You didn’t even get chance to say goodbye. “My… they’re gonna be worried about me…” you say, voice cracking a little. You wince; it hurts your throat. “I w-went here without telling anyone…” He gives a little chuckle, then sees the look on your face. He instantly softens. “I’ll send Batman a riddle, okay? If he can wrap his head around it then he’ll know you’re alive and… as well as can be, considering you almost froze to death.” He gently pats your shoulder, giving a smile that seems to have gentleness behind it. The moment lasts for a few seconds, then he speaks again. “Kid, you look exhausted. I’ll get sleeping arrangements sorted.”

He walks off, and you wait, basking in the warmth of the handcuffs. You can feel the faint chill around you, and eventually, he returns. He’s changed outfit now, wearing a green flannel robe, with purple question marks inside each square in the pattern, and matching pyjama bottoms. You can see a matching buttoned top peeking through the robe. It feels weird, seeing him without the hat on, or the mask, instead wearing rectangular glasses. He’s holding more clothes in his arms, and takes you to a little bathroom, with no windows. He undoes your handcuffs, and gives you the clothes. “I’ll leave you a little privacy now. Don’t you dare escape,” he says, smirking at the end. He leaves you to do your business and get changed.

You leave the bathroom in the soft, warm flannel. He immediately grabs your wrist and handcuffs you again. He lets out a little chuckle at how baggy the pyjamas are on you, and ruffles your hair. You glare at him, but can’t deny that his hands are warm. You’re still wearing your mask, and you have to admit that you probably look very silly. He leads you to the bedroom, and takes you to a little mattress at the side of a large bed, with question mark carvings. He puts his hand on your head and pushes you down onto the mattress, a little smile on his face. “Did you want the proper bed?” he asks, a smug smile on his face, and the hints of a laugh coming through his voice. “Honestly, I’d sleep on the floor if it meant you’d have to sleep on the floor,” you reply, some of your irritation returning. He may be warm, but he is still insufferable, and you think you might dream about punching him in the face tonight. He lets out a little chuckle. “Too bad! Because it doesn’t! Tell you what, how about I ask you a riddle, and if you get it right, you can choose the sleeping arrangement. There are twenty people at a party who will only shake hands with someone bigger than them. How many handshakes occur?” he asks. You think for a while. “190?” He laughs like a man with Joker Gas. “190?! 190?! Ha! The answer is 0! Once again, I win!” You snarl at him. He giggles, and ruffles your hair again. “Calm down, angry dog! You should have known you wouldn’t win!” The Riddler walks over to the door, and starts placing lines of string everywhere. “I could just leave you to whatever escape attempt you’ve been concocting in that mind of yours, but I’m starting to doubt you have one. I’m not so heartless as to let you die in the cold. If you’re so intent on going out to die, you’ll have to sneak past these. I look forward to waking up in the middle of the night to the alarm.”

Eventually, the room is surrounded by string. He gives a smug smile, and turns his attention back to you. He wraps you in a fluffy blanket, and puts thick bedcovers on top of you, tucking you in. You feel so snug, and you have to admit it’s so toasty and warm. He gets onto his own bed, covering himself in several blankets. He looks down at you, a smile on his face, and turns off the light. Unable to escape, you decide to let sleep come, and drift off.

[bigskydreaming]

Hi, I was reading your post about Jason punching Dick in the face when Dick revealed he fake his death was bullshit ( which it was) and it reminded me of an issue/question that has bothered me for sometime.

Why did people believe Dick was actually dead?

I’m not the most avid comic reader so maybe I missed something but it was always weird to me that everyone just accepted this especially given how Bruce was acting or should I say wasn’t acting.

This is a man when his child died another child had to come along and told him sir you are being too violent and emotional you need supervision. When his other child died he went all over the universe to bring him back to life because he knew it was possible ( which was happening at the same time), so why didn’t anyone think it was weird he wasn’t doing that for Dick. Can you imagine Dick really dying that soon after Damian it would be injustice Batman Version. You are telling me that Tim, Jason or Barbara didn’t think it was weird that Bruce didn’t also bring Dick’s corpse to the bring Damian back to life mission or mention it to themselves. Like what more likely Dick dead and Bruce is handling it well or that he fake his death to do something stupid and Dangerous after his partner/brother/ little bit my son the feelings are complicated died after he was knocked out and woke up to his corpse.

Oh man, this is like, the entire nature of my beef?

(Slight derail just to emphasize the fact real quick that Dick DID actually die, he was just revived quickly, but like, the trauma of his death was very real and its not like anyone was clued into Luthor having a resurrection backdoor built into his literal murder of Dick in the actual moment of it happening. So Dick’s death wasn’t fake, and additionally, he didn’t have anything to do with like, telling people about it, because he was literally comatose in the cave and recovering while Bruce was telling people....by the time Dick woke up in the cave, we already know that Alfred at least had already been convinced by Bruce that Dick was dead, so I have a kneejerk need to pushback against the Dick faked his death narrative by reminding people wherever possible that Dick had no agency in the spreading of that narrative. 

It happened without him being involved, and the only actual contribution he ever made to it was just not revealing he was alive before Grayson #12, after Bruce like.....emotionally, mentally and physically badgered him into accepting that doing so would be directly harmful to his family and he didn’t want to be the reason more people died when like, people had just died because he ‘let’ himself be captured and interrogated by Power Woman’s Lasso of Submission, did he?

SORRY TO BE PEDANTIC, just wanted to start this off on a clarification, even though I know the aim of your ask was very much in tune with the rest of my response. A lot of people don’t read the actual comics, so like, I’m never gonna skip over an opportunity to emphasize that the shorthand people use to refer to Dick’s death and the year he was with Spyral, is like, literally just shorthand for describing it. Its not actually an accurate description of how all that went down and who had the most hand in it).

BUT ANYWAY. BACK TO THE MEAT OF THE BEEF.

Okay so like, not only was the entire family and Bruce himself giving Dick shit for his death and Spyral, like, PAINFULLY egregious because it was literal victim blaming in every possible sense of the word....

None of it made a LICK of sense with ANY of their characterizations, and they ONLY all accepted it on face value because the Plot Demanded It, and when you're like, no, as a reader I say The Plot Demanded It is not a good enough reason for me to be like well sure, that makes sense......looking at the characters ACTUAL actions at face value pretty much just makes them all look like assholes?

Like, Tim has never gracefully accepted anyone's death. Ever. This is core characterization for him. He will go to the ends of the earth for his loved ones and to bring them back, prove they're not dead, refuse to let death be the final verdict for them. He was tempted to use the Lazarus Pit to bring his parents back to life. He refused to accept Bruce was dead long before he had any proof whatsoever of that theory. He tried to clone his BFF/future-husband Kon in his fucking basement like, dude was two whole inches away from going Full Dark Side in his quest to bring back a lost loved one no matter WHAT the cost.....and then you've got Dick unmasked onscreen, killed offscreen, and Bruce then reporting to the rest of them with zero inflection 'oh Dick's dead now. Its very sad' and Tim's just like, sure. Sounds legit.

I mean?!?!

And you're SO RIGHT ABOUT THE DAMIAN THING! Bruce LITERALLY LITERALLY LITERALLY went BEYOND the ends of the Earth, like, he full on chartered a fucking space ship to fly his whole family out to APOKOLIPS to bring Damian back from the dead by going to EXTREME lengths.....WHILE everyone else thought Dick was dead....

And not a single person looked at Bruce and was like, okay, not that we're not down to do this for Damian because we miss Stabby Smurf something fierce ourselves, but.....what the fuck is UP with you dude? Why aren't you displaying ANY hint of this same kind of energy in regards to your eldest son that you said you watched die right in front of you?

Like....I don't know that we were actually ever told that Dick's coffin was empty or had a fake in it, but like....this family of detectives who refuse to accept death, defy death, COME BACK FROM THE DEAD....not a single one of them said like, okay, if I'm gonna like, ACCEPT accept that Dick is dead and gone for good, I need to at least just see him one last time? That's literally all it would have taken for someone to realize hey something's a little wonky here. Where's the dead body, Pops?

Since when has Jason ever missed an opportunity to prove Bruce is a) full of shit, b) acting like an emotionless robot and all his kids deserve better especially when they've just like....died, c) just factually incorrect and wrong and jumped to a conclusion before it was conclusively proved, d) lying like a liar or e) all of the above?

Nobody even ASKED if Dick's body could be put in a Lazarus Pit? Yeah, Jason wouldn't necessarily recommend it himself, given what it put him through, but actually fuck that, I take that back, because I'm NOT actually of the opinion that Jason full on hates his life and actively spends every second of every day wishing he hadn't been resurrected, even if it had come with a huge buffet of additional trauma and pain.

And that's kinda what's implied when people just take it for granted that he would never be on board with any scenario involving using a Lazarus Pit to bring Dick back, because it suggests that based even just on his own experiences and feelings, he honestly believes Dick would prefer being dead and not have ANY further opportunities to be with his loved ones, his friends, help save the damn world again at some future point.....that Jason, projecting based just off himself, legit feels Dick would rather be dead than have another shot at life even WITH the downsides of Lazarus Pit usage? Nope. Sorry, I don't buy it.

Speaking of not buying it.....you know what was missing from all those soliloquies the others monologued at Dick about how they felt and were hurt and just devastated by his death, to such a point they can't seem to muster a single shred of happiness that he's NOT dead still -

(seriously, Damian was the ONLY person in ALL THE LANDS OF EMOTION-HAVING who expressed ANY kind of positive reaction to having Dick back. We were so fucking cheated of like.....ANY opportunity to have the characters show just how much they valued him by just being fucking HAPPY he was alive, no matter what else was involved....and then most of fandom compounded that by for years being like mmmm, no, Dick didn't get yelled at enough by his family for what HE put THEM through. Needs more yelling. More punching too. Bad Dick. Bad. This is the only way you'll learn not to die and get shipped off on a mission that you don't want but at least is to protect your family after being beaten into it by your dad whilst victim blaming you for dying in the first place. WHEN WILL YOU LEARN TO THINK ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE AND THEIR FEELINGS FOR A CHANGE, DICK?!?)

- But like, BUT I DIGRESS aside....you know what was missing from all those monologues about how hard DICK'S death and ensuing year of basically exile from his loved ones was for EVERYONE BUT HIM?

We never got a single line of explanation as to what everyone else officially thinks even happened to him in the first place?

Like, did Bruce straight up just say oh bad news kids, your brother umm. Expired. Spontaneously. There's no one to blame, he just keeled over, its all very sad.

Is that how that went down?

You're telling me that the explanation of Dick's death didn't come with a single pointed finger at someone for this family of blame-happy vigilantes to like, BLAME for the loss of this brother they all mourned oh so much, they just couldn't help but blame him for all the hurt it caused them?

The family that in every other fic is like OBSESSED with avenging and being avenged and all things vengeful and even tangentially vengeance-y....like didn't ask for a single detail on whomst the fuck deprived us of our brother-having?

Where were the attempts on Luthor's life by Jason (who I mean, yeah I know it was in a previous continuity, but erasing that timeline doesn't erase my awareness of the time Dick killed Jason's murderer so like.....mmm, just saying, woulda been nice)....where was the rage directed at the Crime Syndicate and references to how seriously and personally the Batfam took making sure that they were PUNISHED for all this and would never be free to wreak havoc on their world or their family again? What did they tell Damian when he came back to life, and how are you going to tell me that this fraternal little ball of fury didn't aim himself like a cannonball at whomever the fuck had DARED take HIS Batman from him when Damian wasn't around to have his back?

Not only does everyone else's desire to be avenged start falling really flat the second you factor in hey maybe Dick feels "mmm what about MY avenging" sometimes, and why doesn't anyone ever care about doing that for him.....but also, y'know what REALLY sucks about the ONLY person we actually SEE being blamed for Dick's death and ensuing absence being like....Dick himself?

Not only were his family all super keen on making all of this HIS fault and HIM the bad guy because of how it made them all feeeeeeel (and meanwhile fuck his feelings, am I right Batfam hfaklshfklahfkla).....

They somehow found a way to justify prioritizing this OVER ever even getting around to blaming some villain for his death in the FIRST place, in the entire year or so they thought he was still dead!

Like, you couldn't come up with a single target in all that time, but Dick's back two seconds, and you don't even give him a chance to EXPLAIN before you're punching him, shutting him down with 'I expected better from you' and turning away with 'I don't want to hear it, why am I surprised Dick Grayson disappointed me again'?

afshklfhalfhalfhla

Make it make sense!

And like, it won't, cuz it doesn't, and it never will, and like I said at the top, the ONLY reason it all played out this way is because DC doesn't give a fuck about character development and deemed it necessary to go down this way for the sake of the plot (which was totes worth it, I mean, glad we sacrificed characters for this A+ plot which was clearly the greatest plot of all time and definitely justified every story choice made or not made around it loooool).

BUT.

BUT BUT BUT.

The problem isn't JUST that DC is stupid, even though that is an eternal mood and quite the problem.

Its that the SECOND large parts of fandom decided to play along with DC and just accept the story at face value, only add to it and play into it exactly as it happened in canon with no significant deviations, and like, heaping on the LITERAL abuse from Dick's siblings while ignoring the LITERAL abuse from his father....

THAT....is when all of this becomes relevant.

Because the second people decided TO engage with the reasoning DC gave for what Bruce did and how and what Dick did and how and just not mess with any of that and have it all play out exactly like that...

The second people are like, okay we're FINE with not just dismissing this story as OOC writing that doesn't make any sense, and actually VALIDATING it to various degrees by engaging with it as is....

That's when 'OOC writing' stops being an excuse or explanation for alllll of the above gaps in character logic and actions.

Because its like, when you had abundant chance to REJECT this story and say nope, this was bullshit from start to finish and I'm not here for it, when you were just as capable of transforming literally ANY aspect of this story you didn't like into something that made more sense to you....

And you chose not to.

That's.....accepting it as valid writing. You were like, okay, I'm game to just treat this as a thing that happened, just like they said that happened.

For the chance to give Dick shit for it, see. For the angst, see.

And that's when I'm like okay cool, so when engaging with this story as is and accepting it on face value and just delving into the characters as they were SHOWN interacting with and around these events......for the angst or whatever....

You guys just all decided en masse to just hop, skip and jump over allllllllll the opportunities for angst inherent in examining even ANY SINGLE ONE of the above lapses in judgment or hypocrisy on the parts of the characters (who don't get to be excused by OOC writing if you're not going to call the story an example of OOC writing, whoops).

And its just like, uh, what's up with that?

[empower-bi-women]

Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

That pesky sexual tension 

Summery: Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

Warnings: SMUT so if you’re not 18 begone thot, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, cheesy writing? 

A/N: I tried to be a little more cute with this one so let me know what you think. And to the anon who requested this I’m sorry it took so long I hope you like it! Also this is my first ask!! So sorry if the format is a little strange I’m still trying to figure it out.

Word count: 3041 

“Timothy Drake, I swear to god give me back my book!” you chased him into the kitchen where he ran to the other side of the counter. 

“Why don't you come over here and make me.” He replied with a teasing smile on his face. You lunged forward across the cold counter top to reach for your book. He laughed at your struggle “Come on Y/N you know you never won a fight against me without someone helping you.” 

Shit he had a point you thought, everyone else was out at the store. You gave up, sitting on the counter with you back to him and pouted. Arms crossed looking towards the open door. Laughing he walked over to face you. 

“Aw come on I was just teasing.” he put his arms down on either side of you, trapping you in but you refused to look at him. “Come on look at me,” he leaned down to try and catch your gaze but you just moved your head. “Y/N?” he looked at you with wide eyes before they narrowed, “Y/N look at me.” His voice dropped into that commanding tone he used on patrol. You couldn’t help but look up to meet those blue eyes that bore into yours. The silence in the room was deafening. He leaned in closer and closer until your breath was his. Noses almost brushing. Lips almost touching. He glanced down at your lips. 

The kitchen door burst open causing the two of you to jump apart as the rest of the boys walked in carrying grocery bags, chatting loudly. Dick and Jason froze in the doorway causing Damian to bump into them from behind. 

“Now what do we have here?” Jason asked in a teasing voice. 

“Nothing. Did you get my coffee?” Tim said, his voice back to normal. 

“Did you put it on the list?” Dick asked, shooting you a strange look as you hopped off the counter, “what were you guys doing in here anyway?” 

“Tim took my book right out of my hands so I had to get it back.” You replied.

“Damn I thought you were finally resolving that pesky sexual tension.” Jason said through a mouth full of marshmallows. 

“Jason!” You, Tim, and Dick all yelled out.

“What! This has been going on for way too long. We were all thinking it” He tried to defend himself. 

“We most certainly were not Master Jason,” Alfred came to save the day, “and please refrain from eating all the food before it's even put away.”

He grumbled before putting the bag away. You snached your book away from Tim before walking into the living room to finish reading. 

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

“Come on please Y/N just look it up! It won’t even take five minutes.” Tim pleaded with you, hiding a smile on his face.

“I thought you were the computer wiz, do it yourself.” You replied, not looking at him. He grabbed the back of your chair and spun you to face him. Kneeling down he looked in your eyes. “Please?” his voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned in closer, “for me?” 

Your cheeks heated up. “I’m busy right now, go ask someone else.”

“Ok can you just check this one thing please?” 

“Out!” You spun your chair away from him but he still leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head before walking away.  You shook your head trying to clear the thoughts running through your head of the way his forearms flexed as he gripped the chair arms. The way his bright blue eyes looked like they wanted to devour you whole. Ugh this man is going to kill me you thought. 

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

That night you were working comms with Barbara in the cave. Things were going smoothly until Tim called in.

 “Hey Oracle, hey angel, can you guys find out who that guy over there is and what he's doing please and thank you.” Your eyes went wide at the nickname he gave you. You could see Barbara looking at you out of the corner of your eye and heard Jason and Dick laughing though the comms. You ignored them as your fingers flew across the keyboard as facial rec worked its magic. 

“His name is Jimmy Figgis. He’s fresh out of bellrev, he was in for drug dealing and black mail.” You said into the comms.

“Well it would be a shame if he got caught red handed doing a deal. He would go back to jail.” Barbara chimed in. 

“Looks like we got a stake out boys.” Dick said.

“It's ok guys, I can stay for the drop.” Tim said, his voice low as he settled in for the night, “I'll have Y/N to keep me company, right angel?”  

“I mean it's not like I have a choice do I.” 

Not even half an hour later Tim started to get bored. And his target was you. Barbara had to leave to take care of some other stuff so you were alone. Tim decided it would be a good idea to switch frequencies and mess with you. 

“Hey Y/N, have you ever thought about us while touching yourself?” 

You spat out your coffee. “What the fuck Timothy!” You heard his laughter on the other side of the line. 

“Well I'm just asking because I know for a fact that Dick thinks of Babs and Jason thinks of Diana sometimes but he would never admit it. And I got curious. Who do you think of?” 

You could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Wouldn't you like to know. You really should focus on the stake out instead of my masturbation habits.” 

“Aw angel I can almost see you blushing from here. You look adorable.” 

“Shut up Tim.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love hearing you say my name? It sounds so sweet I can almost imagine what you would sound like screaming it underneath me.”

You froze. You and Tim had always had a flirtatious relationship but this was a new level entirely. This was dangerous territory. “Don't start things you can't finish Timothy.” Your voice was low. 

“Oh believe me angel I always finish. And I make sure my partner does too.” 

You threw your head back in frustration. “Focus on the stake out and we can continue this later.”

“Is that a promise?”

Before you could reply Bruce’s voice crackled through the comms “Red Robin we’re coming to you.” 

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

A few arrests and fight later the bats rolled into the cave. Alfred was on standby with the medical kit but there was no need. You shifted uncomfortably as Tim’s eyes raked over your body, pausing on your legs that were squeezed together, trying and failing to give you relief from the ache in your pussy. He smirked at the site of you waiting for him, all needy. 

“Good job tonight guys. Shower and get some sleep,” Bruce said, taking his cowl off, “I’m looking at you Tim.”

Tim just smiled. You both knew there would be no sleeping tonight. Tim walked over to you, his cowl was off and his dark hair was messy. Fuck he looked good you thought to yourself. The look on his face was calm but you could see something in his eyes. All the years you've known him, you had never seen this look in his eyes. It was dark and lit a fire inside you. 

“Do you still want to do this? Because once we start, I'm not stopping.” his blue eyes stared into yours.

“I believe I have a promise to fulfill.”

He gave you a wicked smile. “I want you upstairs in my room, ten minutes. And no touching yourself.” He tapped your thighs that were pressed together before walking away.

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

Your head was a mess by the time you headed up to Tim’s room. You had bid goodnight to the rest of the boys when your phone chimed. Tim had sent you a picture from the shower. Towel low on his hips showing off his v line, water droplets glistening off his abs, and the way his hand gripped his phone showed off all the muscles and veins in his arms. The wetness between your legs grew with every step towards his room. You knocked on his door, the loud sound of your knuckles against the wood echoed throughout the hallway. 

“Come in.” His voice was muffled by the door. You walked in to find him sitting on a chair across from the bed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. “Lock the door.” His voice was low and commanding, not unlike that day in the kitchen. That same electric energy that you felt then was in the room, now magnified by 100. 

“I'm going to ask you one more time, are you sure you want this?” 

“Yes Tim I’m sure.” 

“Good girl,” the praise sent shivers down your spine, “Take off your clothes and lay down on the bed.” Your heart was beating out of your chest as you slowly took your shirt off. “I don't recommend teasing me angel, it won't work out well for you.” You just smiled as you turned around, taking your pants off while wiggling your ass tauntingly. You didn’t even hear him move before you felt a sharp pain across your backside. You moaned at the contact. 

“Aw does my little angel like pain?” he questioned mockingly before coming down on you again, “I asked you a question Y/N, I expect and answer.” 

“Yes sir.” You heard him laugh behind you. He wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled you up against his warm chest. “Well isn't that a nice surprise. I always knew you had a thing for authority.” His voice was low in your ear. Your head went back to rest on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and biting the skin there. His movements against your body are slow and calculating. Tim always seemed gentle and calm but the truth is that no one knows how he respresed his emotions, and his needs. But tonight he was going to take whatever he wanted. And you would let him. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His hands caressed your skin.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“Sorry for what?”

You took a shallow breath. He was really going to make you work tonight. “For teasing you.” 

He turned you around to face him. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face, before kissing your lips gently. Looking into his eyes you could never tell what he was thinking. His face was calm and passive. That is until he let go. And you would do whatever it takes to see him lose control. Even if that meant misbehaving. 

“Get on the bed for me angel.” he kissed your forehead before turning his back on you but you didn’t move. He grabbed a red tie from his desk and turned around, his eyes widening at the sight of you still standing there. “Did you not hear me?” He raised his eyebrows at you, “I said, get on the bed. Now.” 

You could see the annoyance in his eyes. He was starting to slip, you wouldn’t stop now. 

“Make me.” 

Those two words lit a fire in him. He picked you up easily and threw you onto the bed with such force that you bounced. “I told you not to tease me angel.” He growled as he crawled towards you on the bed. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards him so he was hovering over you, arm placed next to your head. His hot breath hit your face. “You were being so good angel, what happened? Why are you being a brat now.” 

You whimpered at his words. His hand slipped down to your panties and rubbed a finger up and down your slit ever so lightly. 

“Tim please.” You begged him. A sharp smack to your thigh brought you out of your daze. 

“I'm sorry, what was that?” his voice has a dangerous edge to it. His eyes were wild, “that not what you're calling me tonight, is it.” 

“Sir, please! Please touch me, I need it.” You pleaded with him. He rolled his hips into yours, putting pressure where you needed him most. 

“Will you listen to me now?” 

“Yes anything you say.” You replied, needing to feel him closer. 

He moved in to kiss you, stopping just before your lips touched. You moved up trying to close the distance but his hand was quick around your throat, forcing you back down. “I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy,” he murmured, “I want you to stay still and you must ask for permission before you cum. Understood?” 

You nodded, desperate for anything he would give you. He removed his hand from your neck and kissed his way down your body to your soaked panties. His rough hands spread your thighs open, leaving a wet kiss on both before pressing a kiss to your clothed clit. You shifted your hips up, trying desperately to get more stimulation. His arm trapped your hips down. 

“Now angel, what did I tell you about moving?” He moved away from where you needed him most. 

“I’m sorry sir, please I need you.” You looked at him with desperate eyes. 

“All these years I’ve known you, you've always been a tease to me. Whether you knew it or not. I've been waiting for so long for this, I’m going to take my sweet time,” he growled, “you can lay there and shut up, it's my turn to tease you now Y/N.” 

He dove back in and licked a long stripe over your panties. Heat washed over your body as you felt your pussy gush at his actions. He slowly pulled them off your body leaving kisses down your legs. Leaving hickeys on your inner thighs. He ran his tongue over the dark red marks he left behind. Throwing your panties somewhere in his room, he came back to your throbbing core. Running a finger through your wetness he cooed at you. “Oh angel you're just soaking wet for me aren't you? I can't wait to taste this sweet little cunt.” 

He licked up your slit, collecting your juices. He moaned at the taste. His tongue flicked against your clit ever so lightly, giving you some stimulation but not enough. One hand snaked up in between your thighs to play with your cunt. 

You threw your head back at the sensation of his tongue and fingers working their magic on your body. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. You gasped at the sensation, shivers running down your spine. His finger teased your entrance. 

“You’re fucking drenching me sweetheart. You taste so good when you're like this for me.”

“Please sir I need you.”

“Where do you need me angel?” his finger slid all the way in, “right here?” 

Your eyes rolled back as he finally gave you what you wanted. His finger rubbed against your g spot immediately, making soft moans escape your mouth. “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes” You whimpered. He smacked your thigh. “What was that?” He said roughly, looking up to meet your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, yes it feels good sir.” 

Satisfied with your answer he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you, rubbing your clit in tight circles with his thumb. Before long you were thrashing on the sheets, hands gripping the pillow above your head. Your stomach fluttering as you neared your climax. 

“Are you a good girl?” Tim questioned.

“Yes sir.” you cried out, “please let me cum, please sir.” Your voice was shaking as you tried to control yourself. Out of nowhere he pulled away, licking his fingers as he watched you kick your legs in frustration. 

“What the FUCK Timothy!” You shouted as he got off the bed and walked to his desk. Laughing to himself he reached into a drawer and pulled out a condom. 

“Gotta be safe right?” He said with a smirk on his face.

You sighed. “I thought you were just going to leave me there.”

“That's only if you’re a bad girl but you've been good for me so far, so good that I’ll give you what you want.” He said sliding into you. He leaned down and kissed your forehead as you both caught your breath. Once you adjusted to him you tapped his shoulder to move. 

“You feel so good wrapped around me angel.” Tim whispered softly in your ear, as he thrust his hips into yours. Finally getting what you needed. You wrapped your legs around him pulling him as close as you could. Your lips met in a heated kiss as the knot in your stomach grew impossibly tighter. His hips snapped into yours at a steady rhythm. Your legs trembled as your orgasm approached at a blinding speed.  

Your hips moved to meet his every thrust.  

“Tim I’m gonna cum.” You said breathlessly 

“Just wait angel one more minute.” The pleasure almost overwhelmed you but the need to be good for him won out. “I want you to cum with me in 3,” your nails clawed down his back, “2,” your eyes fluttered shut, “1.” He growled in your ear. 

Your stomach contracted as your body shook with pleasure. His hips stuttered to a stop but his hand kept rubbing you, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. 

You finally pushed his hand away, the feeling getting to be too much. You both lay there next to each other, catching your breath. 

“So does this mean we’re together?” You asked, your voice small. 

He rolled over to look at you, a big smile on his face. “Definitely.” 

[justcourttee]

Love, Right?

This was an ask from AO3, but I loved it so much and wanted to post it here too.

vasiliassuns asked: aaaaa!! i love all these one shots so much:)! would it be any trouble to ask for the waynes (minus alfred, he knows all) being in paris to research ladybug and accidentally see marinette transform before watching her whoop ass? (i know theres a lot of fics with this in the damianette tag, but aa!! such a good trope,,,and your writing is awesome.) its totally cool if not! i also wanna add that im super excited for the next chapter:) seriously tho your writing is awesome and i adore it

If you had told Damian Al Ghul Wayne that he would discover the love of his life in a shotty alleyway in Paris, France, he would’ve laughed in your face.

Yet there he was, his heart racing a million times a minute as he watched her swing into action sending the akumatized person sailing with a solid kick to their chest.

‘Flawless Execution, I couldn’t have done it better myself.’

Damian ignored the crowds pushing against him trying to take cover in the nearest shelter. He knew that by now his family would’ve seen his transmission from the camera contacts that Barbara had provided them before leaving Gotham. They would also be racing toward the battle hoping to catch a glimpse of how these victims communicated with the notorious Hawkmoth.

He turned the corner colliding into three other rushing bodies.

They all fell to the ground with a groan, each holding their own heads with equal scowls directed at the others. Damian was the first to find his feet as he crossed her arms, glaring down on his mess of brothers. Three voices filled the alleyway simultaneously, all as panicked at the other.

“Damian was that the coffee goddess-”

“Damian was that the flying angel from the acrobat gym-”

“Damian was that your girlfriend-”

Everyone silenced as their gazes shifted to where Jason stood. He only shrugged his shoulders in response, that familiar smirk pulling at his lips.

“She’s not my girlfriend Todd.” Damian tried to say it with the straightest face he could manage but he could do nothing to hide the red that had crept up his cheeks.

“Well, whatever she is doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the flying angel is Ladybug! That information would’ve been helpful earlier. We were already hanging out in civilian form, I mean, we could’ve been having our top-secret meetings without the masks!”

“Dick, some of us care about our secret identities unlike you.”

Dick pouted as Tim elbowed his side.

“All I’m saying is that if she can trust me to catch her 40 feet above the ground, then she should be able to trust me with her secret identity.”

“It’s not like she knows our identity’s Richard.” Damian narrowed his eyes at the older boy essentially silencing his continuous whining. “Besides, she probably didn’t want to harm us. If we showed care for her superheroine side, then Hawkmoth could try to attack us to get to her.”

Jason flailed his hand around mocking Damian’s speech behind his head earning a giggle from the others. Damian’s whole face flushed red as he tried to count backward from 10 to avoid killing Jason.

A blur of red landed in front of him, her slightly flushed face staring above them, as determined as ever.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Her eyes darted down to meet his, a slightly surprised look crossing her face.

“Gentlemen, please return to the shelter. It’s not safe right now.”

The boys stared at each other, calculating their best chances of regrouping if they split now. She swung off before she heard their answer shielding them from the oncoming blow. Damian wanted to rush to her side and help her back to her feet but it wasn’t the right moment.

As they made their way back toward the shelter, Damian’s mind was racing a million times a minute.

The quiet girl with a load of sass who helped him study French couldn’t be the bold superheroine who fought crime on a daily basis right? It seemed illogical.

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he could see it. The way she stood up in class to Chloe and Lila whenever they attacked him, the way she could maneuver around every situation within mere seconds of seeing how it would play out, the way those same blue eyes would shine with determination when she knew she was the smartest one in the room and was only being challenged to prove it.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Wait, can you say that again? I wanna make it my ringtone.”

Damian stuck his foot out as he skidded to a stop taking joy in seeing Todd tumble to the ground, a satisfying rip coming from his new leather jacket.

“Ah, c’mon man, it was just a joke!”

A small scream of terror caught their attention. A girl stood in the middle of the cobblestone, clinging to a stuffed bear, the Akuma looming over her as if ready to strike. Damian knew he couldn’t make it quick enough, but damn if he wasn’t going to try.

The Akuma's hand came down before he had even moved an inch, a sickening smack turning Damian’s stomach. As the dust cleared, Damian raced forward, intent on beheading any man who dared to lay hands on a child so small, but the Akuma was nowhere in sight.

The only thing that was left was a breathless Ladybug, dropped to her knees in front of the small girl, a white butterfly fluttering into the sky.

“Mar-Ladybug!”

Her head perked up at the sound of Damian’s voice as he fell beside her, checking her over for any injuries.

“I’m fine Damian, please, check on the girl.”

As if Damian needed any more confirmation that Ladybug was Marinette. Here she was not even denying that she knew him in that cute stammering manner she did. With a small nod, he turned to check over the girl, making sure the Akuma hadn’t bruised her.

Beside him, Ladybug stumbled to her feet throwing her Miraculous Cure into the air. Instantly, Damian noticed all the damage disappearing under the blinding lights as if the battle had never happened in the first place. He wanted to ask her how the magic behind it worked, but the sound of a shout cut him off.

“Oi! Get back here you little brat! I’m not done teaching you a lesson for eating my food!”

Instantly the girl in his arms became smaller. Ladybug noticed it as well as her eyes hardened, almost daring the man to take a step forward.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there. You were just a victim of Hawkmoth’s powers and need to be checked over by Chat Noir.”

The blonde hero nodded warily as if ready to attack from behind if things went south.

“I ain’t doing any of that. This child right here is mine and needs to be taught a lesson one way or another.”

Ladybug glanced behind her at the small girl’s silent tears as she clung to Damian’s arms as if they were her lifeline.

“You will be doing no such thing. In fact, by the end of today, she will no longer be your child. I suggest you leave now sir, I wouldn’t want things to get ugly.”

The man had the audacity to laugh. It fueled the rage inside Damian, but he refused to let go of the girl. He feared that if he did, she would run.

“What are you gonna do? You superheroes can’t touch me if I’m not akumatized.”

In a flash, he lunged forward. Ladybug wasn’t even fazed as she sidestepped him, pushing his head down into the cobblestone below. It was only one blow, but he was out cold, a small split on his forehead.

Damian couldn’t help the way his jaw hung.

“Medic, he’s going to need stitches. Sir,” Damian shook the shock from his face as he met her eyes. “This child seems to have taken a liking to you, would you mind taking her to the police station for me? Tell them I will be there soon to make my report and check on her.”

Damian nodded, unable to find his voice as those intimidating eyes stared down into his.

“And one more thing, I’ll be checking in with you later as well. It seems we have much to talk about little bird.”

Damian’s entire face flushed red as she swung off with her partner, his eyes never leaving her figure until she was out of sight. The sound of pounding feet on the pavement brought him back to reality as his brother’s skidded in front of him, their faces as impressed as his.

“Hey Damian, this is your fair warning. If you don’t date her, I might.”

“Ditto.”

“Me three.”

Damian stumbled over his denial as he watched his brother’s burst into laughter. Dick gathered the young girl from his arms, cooing at her until she was calm once more, allowing him to finally stand.

“You all are not worthy of her, only I am.”

Jason crossed his arms mocking Damian’s half pout as he and Tim shared another laugh at the murderous look in his eyes. He could care less what these imbeciles thought, the only thing that mattered was what she did.

And he couldn’t wait to find out.

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[artxyra]

Ok so I don't know if your still taking requests but if you are it's daminette and marinette is over so the whole wayne family and her are chilling and they think they hear someone so they do a heartbeat scan and they count an extra one so they're searching they manor and they're on guard they alfred ask all the girls if they're pregnant and the guys are nervous because one of them could be a father so they scan all the girls and they find out mari's preggo and it's a whole chaotic ordeal

Note: Sorry this took so long, I was trying to figure out the best way to tell this story and I finally got the idea after watching TT episode Fear Itself. 

Whoever’s idea was it for the family to watch a horror movie during a fucking thunderstorm, Marinette just wants to end their lives. She was having a good day despite feeling sick in the morning, so being informed that tonight’s movie was horror-based was interesting. The majority of the time, a horror movie wasn’t a bad idea, but the moment the film ended, and the lights randomly shut off, the screaming begins.

For a house filled with heroes vigilantes, they sure do know how to scream and act like they’re in a horror movie real quick. Marinette could feel the need to throw up grow as the sense of someone watching her suddenly grows. At first, she thought that it was Damian or any of his brothers, but how could that be when everyone disperses the second, they heard movements that were not from either of them. Damian was reluctant to leave Marinette to her own device, but since the manor was so large splitting up was the best option.

“Come on, Mari, you’re Ladybird, stuff like this is nothing.” Marinette murmurs to herself in an attempt to keep her nerves at bay. That doesn’t go well, as the creaking noise suddenly fills the hallway. She sure hopes that it’s the air conditioner making those sounds. Marinette was slowly regretting not taking Alfred’s lead and follow him to the kitchen, at least she knows the kitchen area better than the damn halls. The amount of time she still gets lost in the halls just to find the gym is an outlandish number.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Clenching her teeth, she fumbles to unlock her phone. Despite using it as a flashlight, she also didn’t want to accidentally turn the only source of light off. The second her phone unlock, thunder and lightning decided to join forces making her jump at the sudden flash of light and a loud boom.

“I am so killing Jason…” She mutters. Finally, she is able to see the notification. It was a series of messages stating clear and the location. There were at least five out of the nine that were currently in the manor. They had invited Duke, but he opted out the second he realizes who was picking out the movies. Apparently, any movie chosen by Jason could only mean bad things and Duke, surprisingly, wanted nothing apart of it.

The creaking noises remain active, something that made walking down the hall and looking for a potential intruder much more difficult. Had the creaking stops, this would have been much easier to delegate which room needs searching.

Back downstairs, the Bat-family all decided to meet up in the living room. Marinette had yet to make an appearance. Damian was growing impatiently worried for his beloved, so much that he was practically stabbing the ground with one of many katanas.

“Master Damian,” Alfred chastised seeing the new marking on the floor. Great another reason to keep buffering the floors at least twice a month. Alfred knows that everyone’s worries were running high. They still had yet located the cause of the sound—a potential intruder—and it’s not like they would go into the Batcave without a problem, but they didn’t want to take that chance.

“She should have been here by now,” Damian grumbles placing the sword back into its sheath.

“Demon, we’re talking about Pixie, the girl literally has problems getting to the gym every once in a while, and that’s with light.” Jason’s words slowly dawned on the family. He’s right. Marinette may be officially apart of the family now, but the designer literally stays in like five places within the manor: hers and Damian’s room, the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom nearest to her, and the Batcave. Beyond those options, it’s better for Marinette to have a guide, which is usually Titus, and sometimes Alfred when he doesn’t have anything to do.

“I got the tracker ready, sir. Should I place it on heartbeat mode?” Alfred shows them the tracking device with a knowing look on his face.

The Batbros race to the device only for Tim to grab it and put it in the right settings.

“Hold on, wouldn’t it better to search for heat signatures?” Dick asks—well he was thinking aloud for the most part.

“Ideally yes, but the readings can become messy if we’re all in the same room or if what we are dealing with doesn’t radiate heat. It’s best to go with a pulse or in other words a heartbeat. Got any more questions, Dick.” Tim states glaring at his oldest brother. They were all worried about Marinette, but it was upped times ten. “Now are we going to try and find ‘spresso and whoever even dared to enter the manor?” Tim was a man on a mission. In fact, they all were.

No one dared to object to Tim’s claims. Damian was impatiently tapping his feet against the ground, and soon there were thirteen pulsing dots going off the tracker. Tim mentally did a headcount, with him included there were nine people in the room with him which means four of the dots are in unknown locations.

“So, which one do we follow?” That was the question on everybody’s mind.

“We go to the one that is alone, with a faint pulse.” On the device, several feet away is a flickering dot as if there was some interference in picking up the heartbeat. It wasn’t stable.

“Damian, where are your animals?” Barbara asks typing away on her phone. She may not be at the bat-computer, but she can still manage with Wi-Fi and a portable device.  

Damian wasn’t sure where his animals are. He knows for a fact that Alfred the cat was in his room, Titus disappears to hang out with Ace every now and then. The rest of the animals are most likely outside in their miniature houses that he keeps at the manor for nights like these.  

“No time to argue, we got to move.” Tim was already ahead of the family following the path guided to him by the tracker.

The bat-family follow the strange signal until they reach a dead end. All the doors were shut, and the thunder was booming with no means to stop. They haven’t seen or heard from Marinette since they disbanded earlier that night. Soon, the faint pulsing signal grows stronger as they approach the final door. No one, aside from Alfred, could remember what was behind that door. It was a bedroom.

“Whoa” Tim yelps, looking down at the tracker. There are now twelve pulsating dots on the device. They all filter into the room. It was practically empty which put them all on edge. Marinette was somewhere in the manor and now there were in an empty room with no clues on where to start.

Using their flashlights, they scan every inch of the place and still found nothing. Alfred takes the device away from Tim who protested but when he realized that it was Alfred he calms down.

“I don’t think there is another person in the manor,” Cass states looking around the room. She was eyeing the large wardrobe. If her hunch is correct, then she knows where the newest pulsing signal is coming from and that makes her giddy.

“I concur with Miss Cain.” Alfred walks over to the second door that is in the room and opens it revealing a certain black Great Dane wagging his tail happily yet protectively. He barks but upon seeing his owner, he calms down. “It appears that one of the signals is Titus and with him being her it only means that Miss Marinette is in this room. Perhaps in the wardrobe.”

The second the word “wardrobe” escapes the butler’s lips, all the bat-bros rush over to the item. Damian was quick to open it and there she is. Marinette’s small enough to fit comfortably on the base and stay hidden had there been any clothes on the rack. In her arms is a small pup, probably the intruder that has been haunting them. The pup’s nails are long and need to be cut. Marinette was sleeping which made it easier for Damian to scoop her into his arms.

The pup wakes up and begins barking yelping up a storm causing Marinette to stir in Damian's arms. Her eyes flutter open and a yawn escapes her lips.

“Is it morning already?” She yawns once more rubbing her eyes. Damian shakes his head causing Marinette to pout and try to find comfort in Damian’s arms to fall back to sleep to, but the pup in her arms wasn’t having it. “Oh quiet, you.” Marinette laughs and tightens her hold on the pup.

“That doesn’t explain the strange pulsing signal?” Steph states looking over Alfred’s shoulder and once more a signal was faltering without a constant beat.

“That’s because I believe, Miss Marinette is currently with child.” Alfred places the device down for everyone to see. “We have the heartbeat tracker on pulsing signals that can be easily translated to a heartbeat. If Miss Marinette, is indeed with child, the interference to this signal is the pulsing from the fetus.”

Alfred pause for a second giving everyone to process the news. Damian’s exe. was broken as he stares at his wife with love and shock. The rest of the family, aside from Cass, was blinking away the shock. Five, four, three, two…one. Then they all break out in shouts of excitement.

“Oh my god, we’re going to be uncles!” Dick exclaims bouncing in place. He even wraps his arms around Damian, who was still frozen and gives him a side hug knowing full well that he can’t protest.

Jason looks like he was about to kill someone—more or less Damian for a matter of fact. Marinette was his sister in everything but blood. Yes, he’s excited for the incoming member of the family, but he doesn’t know what to do.

 Tim was trying to wrap the news around his head. He hadn’t had any coffee since before the movie night started and with the power being off, there’s no way for him to make his usual late-night cup of coffee.

“Will you shut up; I’m trying to sleep here,” Marinette growls bring the attention back to her. Damian did the only thing that came to mind, he places a kiss upon her lips. Marinette moans and she would have playfully hit him had her arms weren’t holding the pup.

“So, no one is going to question how a puppy got into the manor?” Steph asks pointing to the pup still in Marinette’s arms. She was tempted to coddle the pup and leave the room to return to her own and news come back to life in the morning.

“Titus’s doggy door, most like. I won’t know until I check all the cameras.” Barbara says wheeling herself over to the couple, “Congratulations Damian…I’m going to bed.”

“We are so talking about this in the morning,” Dick claims as he walks out the room pushing Jason and Tim along with him.

Soon it was just Marinette, Damian, and the dogs alone in the room. Damian had a few options to consider, stay the night in this room or walk through a series of halls to return to their own bedroom. It’s late, so he chooses the former. Placing Marinette on the bed was easy once the newly introduced pup jumps out of her arms and onto the bed.

He makes sure she’s comfortable before joining her. Titus curls at the foot of the bed barking at the pup to come to him to which the pup did. Damian pulls Marinette into his chest and whispers, “Thank you, Angel,” into her ear.

“You’re welcome, Demon.” Marinette murmurs back before going off to sleep.

Who would have thought that this is how his family would find out that Damian and Marinette were expecting? This would go down as the best accidental reveal in their family history.     

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[thepoppypress]

An Apple A Day Keeps The Doctor Away (If Thrown Hard Enough)

Synopsis: 

Alternatively,

5 times Dr. Peter Parker took care of the Bat Family.

+1 time they took care of him.

Peter rued the day he became a doctor. He should’ve listened to Mr. Stark and went to MIT like the genius had wanted him to. No. No, instead, he had to go to medical school. He wanted to ‘help people’ and ‘heal them,’ like Dr. Strange. What a fucking joke.

(On the other hand, Dr. Strange was near tears when Peter told him he had gotten accepted into medical school.)

And then, he gets hired by one of the richest, if not the most wealthy bachelor in Gotham City (a city that Mr. Stark hadn’t wanted him to move to in the first place) and his multiple children (most of whom are not related to him) through a mutual acquaintance, Dr. Leslie Thompkins, to be their in-home family doctor. He was on top of the world. If only he knew it was all downhill from there.

-----

1) Bruce:

Peter stared at the handsome man sitting atop the bed in incredulity. Everyone else in the room was silent. Very much so silent. Even Alfred kept himself out of this. He knew better.

‘They should all know better by now,’ Peter thought bitterly.

“So let me get this straight,” Peter said, breaking out of his disbelieving stare and pinching the bridge of his nose. Bruce cut in before the doctor could continue.

“There’s not much to get straight, Dr. Parker.” Peter gave his boss a deadpan stare.

“So you’re saying that you currently have three, three holes in you because of a horseback riding incident?”

“Exactly, Doctor.” Bruce nodded sagely, completely serious. Well, at least that’s what he seemed like. Peter’s expression did not change.

“And that I had to dig the bullets of said three holes because yOU WERE SHOT DURING A HORSEBACK RIDING INCIDENT?! DO YOU KNOW HOW RIDICULOUS YOU SOUND?!” The five other men in the background winced as the doctor started chewing out the head of the household, boss or not.

‘Master Bruce, you loveable and absolute moron,’ Alfred thought while Peter was still flailing his arms about, lecturing Bruce Wayne like it was his place. And Bruce was letting him.

“IS THERE ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!” A beat of silence dropped before Bruce’s deep baritone said something, eyes entirely too innocent.

“It was an accident?” It was said as a question. Peter stared in absolute mortification. Slowly, the pale skin of his face turned a lovely shade of pink as a flush of anger slowly made its way towards the roots of his hair.

‘Bruce,’ his sons collectively thought with a flinch. The doctor would not like that answer.

“ARE YOU FU-” Peter seemed to burst outward like an explosion.

‘Oh dear,’ Alfred thought while sweating lightly, ‘it looks as though we’ll be there for a while.’ Afterall, it was an official rule. No one interrupted when the good doctor was lecturing.

(It also seemed like Dr. Parker knew. Oh damn it all to hell.)

-----

2) Dick:

“I want you to stay off of that for a few weeks Dick. I know it’s a sprain but I don’t want any lasting damage. Promise me you will.” It was a demand, plain and simple.

“I promise.” The statement was said with a beaming smile. Peter gave a terse one back and sent the first son on his way. After he was gone, Peter thought a bit.

It was entirely too innocent and convincing enough, he supposed. But he knew better. Dr. Peter Parker sighed in frustration.

‘Like father, like son, it seems.’

------

Dick collapsed onto the couch, Damian grunting as he drops his eldest brother unceremoniously. He then slumped down next to his brother as they groaned in unison. The Riddler. Again.

Bruce, Tim, and Jason were also in the room, slouching in their own chairs, licking their own wounds that really shouldn’t have gotten. If only they hadn’t started playing that damn game in the middle of the battle, despite Bruce’s good efforts to stop it halfway through once he realized what his sons were doing.

The oldest Wayne son fidgeted a bit before hissing in pain, clutching his leg. The same one that was injured about a week ago. Damian’s eyes lit up in mild alarm.

“Grayson, is that not the leg that Dr. Parker told you to stay off?” Cobalt blue eyes swiveled to meet jade green before a sheepish smile filled out Dick’s face. Three other sets of eyes came to stare at their oldest brother expectedly.

“Well-” A voice seemed to come from nowhere.

“Why yes it is, Damian. How keen of you to notice.” Said doctor melted out of the shadows. The sons startled and even Bruce seemed to be slightly panicked. Sometimes, it was as if he was better than them at going places undetected.

“P-Peter.” Dick was the first to snap out of it and instantly knew what position he was put in. “Look, I-I know I shouldn’t have-” Dick stopped mid-sentence, realizing his mistake.

“Shouldn’t have what, Dick?” Peter waited for his patient to self incriminate himself. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. I just want to know what you shouldn’t have done.” It was a siren’s croon, lulling them into a false sense of security. It was dangerous, they all knew. Oh, did they know. Dick gulped.

“I actually have no idea what you’re talking about.” The others seemed to shrink back into their chairs as the dark aura around the doctor grew.

‘Oh shit,’ they all thought.

“Oh,” it was said mildly enough, but the murderous intent behind it was obvious. “Is that so?” Dick pressed closer to Damian as Peter stalked forward, procuring a wheelchair from seemingly nowhere.

Positioning it in front of the couch, Peter reached forward and lifted Dick like he weighed nothing (as if he didn’t have five inches and about 40 pounds on him) and deposited him onto the seat. Before the acrobat could wriggle and squirm about, Peter pressed a button that released restraints on the oldest, holding him in place. Horror was evident on Dick’s face.

“B! B! Help me!” He pleaded to his adoptive father as he sat at the desk. Bruce only stared at the wood beneath his elbows, back and shoulders tense. It seemed that he would not be helping him tonight.

“Shall we go now? It seems we need to revisit some old lessons.” The smile on Peter’s face was sweet, but his teeth gleamed white and sharp, eyes even sharper. Dick wailed as Peter forcibly removed him from the room. They were gone all of three seconds before Jason burst out laughing.

“Oh shit! May he rest in peace! Good luck Dickiebird! You’re gonna need it!” The man convulsed with laughter, a sentiment neither of his other brother’s shared for they both felt the dark aura moving towards the room once again.

Peter poked his head back in, Dick still struggling against the restraints with the force of a wildman. Jason, once he caught sight of the good doctor, stopped laughing immediately.

“Don’t think you guys are off the hook.” There it was. That entirely too-sweet smile. “I’m coming back for you all. We’ll be talking about that game of Hide-And-Go-Seek-Tag in the middle of a mission..”

He disappeared again, dragging Dick off to his quarters, leaving the remaining brothers and their father with one thought in their heads, and while they would’ve escaped while they could if it was someone else, they knew better than that. It was Peter after all.

‘Fuck,’ was the collective thought.

-----

3) Jason:

Alfred sipped his tea quietly, content to the core as Bruce read the weekly newspaper and Damian buttered some toast for himself. It was a beautiful Monday morning in the Wayne Manor in the middle of May. The butler’s expression didn’t change one bit as a resounding crash was heard above them.

“GET BACK IN THE BED, JASON PETER TODD!”

“NO, FUCK YOU!” More thumps occurred as Alfred continued to drink his hot beverage. There was a struggle before Dr. Peter Parker’s strangled voice demanded,

“DICK! GO GET THE TRANQUILIZER!”

“YESSIR!” Loud footsteps trailed away. The three in the dining room did not pause in their activities. Alfred continued to sip, Bruce continued to read, and Damian bit into the toast.

“TIM! THE ROPES!” More footsteps amongst the loud struggle.

“FUCK OFF! YOU’RE NOT MY MOM!”

“I’M YOUR DOCTOR. I’M WORSE!”

“HERE’S THE TRANQ! AND THE ROPES!”

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! AN INVITATION?! FUCKING SHOOT HIM ALREADY!” Another struggle on the floor before a loud thump and the mansion quieted. Bruce paused in reading, looking up to the ceiling.

“Seems like they finally got Jason back into bed.”

“It would seem that way, sir.”

“Tt.”

‘How peaceful,’ Alfred thinks.

-----

4) Tim:

Paranoia swept through Tim as the family doctor watched him bring his coffee to his lips. Said doctor had brought said coffee and said doctor’s eyes were on said coffee. Tim’s eyes widened. There was something wrong with the coffee. Hurriedly, he brought his favorite drink the whole wide world into the nearest bathroom to pour it out, tears in his eyes as he did so.

‘Such a waste,’ he bemoaned. Tim trudged back into the hallway, bypassing Peter who had followed him to make another cup of coffee, on his own so he was sure there was nothing in it. Like prescribed sleeping pills.

Even as he did make it, Peter’s doe brown eyes never left him. More waves of paranoia crashed into Tim, even more than the tiredness. Peter’s eyes were still on the cup. Tim’s mental voice was screaming with outrage and loss.

There must’ve been something in the coffee beans. Tim took a sip and instantly spit it back out. It tasted fine but there must be something wrong. There had to be.

The process repeated five more times. Each time Tim remade the coffee, Peter eyed it and it made Tim spit it back out and remake another one, insisting within his own mind that there was something wrong with it.

Eventually, Tim gave up on coffee for the day and went back up to his office, coffee-less. Peter followed him there too.

Thirty minutes later, Tim could barely keep his eyes open. Squinting up at the figure leaning against the doorway, he screeched out.

“Why?! What did I do to you?!” The figure said nothing. They only waved. Two larger figures joined the lone one. “WHY?!” A deep voice shushed him.

“Relax, Replacement. This was a long time coming. You’re lucky the doc held out until now.” Tim dry-heaved, head dizzy with the need to sleep.

But Tim couldn’t sleep.

“I have work to do!” He wailed desperately.

“We know, babybird. That’s why Damian’s going to help out.” The second youngest son sobbed at the name.

“He’s going to ruin everything!” A voice scoffed.

“I appreciate your faith in me, Drake.”

“Alright,” Peter’s voice cut through, and was soft but no less commanding, “take him away, boys. Do whatever it takes to keep him in bed.” Tim could hear the smirk in Jason’s voice as he turned to plead helplessly at Peter’s kind, beautiful face. If only that face matched the personality.

“Will do, doc.” With that, Dick and Jason dragged their little brother away for some much needed sleep.

Tim’s screams echoed through the mansion.

(Frankly, Damian thought they were a rather beautiful sound. One he could definitely fall asleep to.)

-----

5) Damian:

Jason waited with an evil grin on his face, waiting for his youngest brother to get out of the operation room. Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, Ibn al Xu Ffasch, had just gotten his wisdom teeth removed. Already 18 years old, Damian had insisted that he not needed them taken out but was left in pain for the past few days. It turns out that one of them had gotten infected somehow and they needed to be removed post-haste.

Peter waited with the rest of the Wayne family (being a doctor, he didn’t know the first thing about teeth. He was no expert in that field. But when Damian had insisted that he get them out himself, he suddenly became an expert at wrestling a scalpel away from a trained child-assassin while simultaneously holding a conversation with a colleague of his on rushing the surgery. Thank God for rich people.) while Damian was in surgery.

About an hour later, they had successfully removed the abscess and Damian’s wisdom teeth while doping him on a lot of anesthesia. Jason rubbed his hands together gleefully, itching to get to his phone to start recording. Blondie would love this one.

-----

By the time they got home, Damian was still asleep. Dick and Bruce carried Damian (for an 18 year old, he sure was large) into Peter’s office, laying him down on the bed for monitoring. While it was only wisdom teeth removal, Peter had to make sure the stitches were cleaned thoroughly and rinsed out with salt water.

Only thirty minutes had passed when Damian groggily woke and evidently, high on the anesthesia. Tim, who was sitting right next to the bed, quietly engaging Peter in an interesting conversation about the theory of time and relativity, was instantly at attention.

“Damian?” Tim whispered and Damian’s eyes popped right open, staring up at Tim in disbelief. “Damian?”

“Oh my God.” Tim glanced at Peter, who was also slightly confused and a bit amused. “This is Heaven. Hi Dr. Parker.” Peter chuckled.

“Hello Damian.” Said man smiled dopily (at which point Tim started recording), before turning back to his brother with puzzlement.

“Wait, if this is Heaven, why are you here?” A moment of silence passed before Tim’s expression became deadpan and Peter’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“It’s part of an exchange program. Gandhi’s down there at a strip club with Mussolini.” That made Peter laugh outright. It wasn’t much longer before Damian went back to sleep.

-----

“Hey Jason.”

“Hmm?”

“Wake up your brother so I can take care of his gums.”

“Okay.”

“...”

“...”

“I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU HIT HIM-”

“Okay, okay! Jeez!”

-----

+1) Peter:

“ACHOO!” Dick winced as the doctor of the house sniffled into the tissue. Warm temperature, runny nose, and bad cough meant a sick Dr. Peter Parker.

“You need to relax, Pete.” Dick’s tone was pleading. For someone who took such good care of others, he was a bad patient when it came to himself.

“Ugh,” Peter’s nasally tone broke through, obviously horribly congested. “I’m fine, Dick. I just need to walk it off.” Disbelief showed on the eldest Wayne sibling’s face as Peter attempted to get out of his bed. A calloused hand pushed him back down and even while sitting on the bed, he swayed dangerously. Dick was very concerned.

“Nope. I can’t do this alone. I’m getting Alfred.”

Not five minutes later, Alfred arrived with warm, spicy soup (cooked about an hour ago when Alfred had heard the telltale signs of a cold), a damp rag, and some medicine.

“Here, Dr. Parker. Eat some soup before drinking the medicine.” The spice cleared his sinuses well and the medicine made him very sleepy. It wasn’t long before he was out like a light, unaware of the adoring looks sent his way.

-----

Come early morning, Peter woke up well rested and feeling better than ever. The only problem was he couldn’t move. Turning his head to his right, he found Damian, in his tall and well muscled form clinging to his arm like a child.

It made Peter coo internally.

Dick was on his left, cradling Peter to his side and Tim snuggled on Dick’s chest, a blanket draped over all four of them.

All three brothers were positioned so that the doctor wouldn’t be able to escape without alerting any of the others.

He couldn’t move his legs either, Peter realized. Looking down, he noticed Jason’s head pillowed on the meat of his calf, arresting his movement and trapping him in a very comfortable and warm prison.

Bruce was beside the bed, sitting in a chair in an uncomfortable looking position that would surely put a crick in his neck.

‘Oh well,’ Peter thinks with a smile on his face, halfway back to sleep already, ‘it’s not like I can move any time soon.’

The ‘just the way I like it,’ was unsaid but unconsciously there.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

In Your Father’s Eyes - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Lois Lane, Alfred Pennyworth, little bit of Clark Kent and Tim Drake and literally everyone Pairing: jondami Summary: Of all the things and all the experiences they thought Jon and Damian would have, it certainly wasn’t this. But they’re all better for it anyway.  A/N: A commission for the lovely @heraldofsong! I hope you enjoy it. :) They asked for a bittersweety fluffy story about the Batfam’s reactions/reminiscing to Jon and Damian having a baby. I chose the middle name ‘Charlotte’ because according to the internet it meant ‘freedom’ or ‘free’ and I felt that described an adult Jon and Damian very well. Barry went with Lois downstairs in case Jon and Damian emerged while she was gone, he could rush her back up. Also, it goes without saying, the Flashes brought Steph, Cass and Kara back from the gift shop the same way. Jon is petrified of holding or even touching the baby sometimes. He eventually gets over that. Some vibes for this fic are ‘Mango Dream’ by Afternoon Bike Ride. 

~~

It was a quiet afternoon at the manor. The warm sun peeking through the curtains. Birds chirping outside. The contented crackle of flame in the fireplace as he and Alfred each sat in a recliner reading a book.

Then Tim called.

“Conner and I are on our way to the hospital. Just about there, actually.” He said urgently. “Damian and Jon were taken there by a group of Green Lanterns.”

“What happened?” Bruce demanded, jumping from his chair as quickly as his old bones would allow him. Alfred glanced up from his novel, closing it immediately.

“That’s the thing…I…I’m not sure.” Tim offered. “I’ve already talked to Damian. He said neither of them were really hurt at all. Just that he needs us there. All of us.”

That was enough for Bruce.

Tim said he’d already called the others, and was in the process of sending Bruce the hospital coordinates. As Bruce and Alfred gathered their coats and head to the car, Bruce’s phone pinged again with a text.

I think you might want to bring your credit card.

Bruce rolled his eyes at Tim’s instruction, but checked his wallet anyway.

The hospital wasn’t in Gotham, or Metropolis, but a smaller city in between. A medium-sized research hospital that the League used often. Out of the way, but staffed with the most skilled in the world, and able to keep a secret or two.

Bruce could already see the gaggle of Green Lanterns on the roof as they pulled in to the parking lot. But judging by their relaxed body language, just like Tim had said, there was no emergency.

So what…?

Lois and Barry were in the lobby waiting for them. She smirked when she saw them, crossing her arms.

“What’s happening?” Bruce demanded. “Are the boys alright?”

“Perfect.” Lois let her smirk become a wide grin. There was a giddy shriek from nearby, and Bruce glanced over. It came from the gift shop, where he could see Stephanie holding something up, showing a confused Cass and judgmental Kara. “We were just waiting here for you to take you to the right ward.”

“Well, I must say, judging by everyone’s attitude, I can’t imagine it’s the ICU.” Alfred quipped. Barry laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Nope.” Lois spun away, all but skipping as she led the way. “Barry, you ready to catch him?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “We’re heading to the maternity ward.”

Bruce froze.

“…What?”

Barry was instantly at his shoulder, an arm hovering against his back.

“Ms. Lane…” Alfred said slowly. Laughter from the gift shop again, and now Bruce could see what Stephanie was showing the others – baby clothes.

“Wild, right?” She nodded, urging them both to follow. “But it’s true.”

“Apparently the boys were on a mission with a few of the Lanterns, on some planet.” Barry explained as he gently pushed them along. “This planet has way more advanced in vitro fertilization technology than on Earth. Than in the whole damn Milky Way. But apparently a major part of the fight was in a science lab. And I don’t know if it was from blood from injuries or sweat from exertion or what, but somehow both their DNA got into one of the machines, and literally hours later, a baby was being born.”

“An…alien child?” Alfred asked.

“You’d think that, but no. One-hundred percent Damian and Jon. So, only twenty-five percent alien, Kryptonian, from Jon’s side.” Barry hummed. “It wasn’t like their DNA was being added to an already incubating organism. Its creation came about because their DNA got combined.”

“At least,” Lois interrupted. “As far as we know. That’s why we’re here. They’re getting the baby checked out.”

Suddenly, Tim’s text made sense. “We have…nothing for a baby at the manor. Do…you and Clark have anything from when Jon was born?”

Lois’s grin softened. “Not enough to have everything they’ll need. But enough for the first day or so. Clothes-wise, anyway.”

“They’ll…they’ll have to come stay at the manor.” Bruce turned to Alfred, mind already in hyper drive. “Their…their apartment isn’t big enough. Right?”

“They live in a penthouse, sir, not an apartment.” Alfred smiled. “But I’m sure if you asked they wouldn’t mind coming home for a while. Especially with all the foot traffic of new aunts and uncles that they can surely expect.”

“You already know which room Clark and I are staying in, right, Alfred?” Lois teased.

“Of course, Ms. Lane.” Alfred chuckled. Barry suddenly dashed forward, holding the door open for the three of them. “I’m already devising the floor plans for everyone in my head as we speak.”

And even with the three women in the gift shop, the maternity ward was a madhouse of Supers, Bats and Leaguers alike. Tim was talking with Dinah and Ollie, showing them cribs and mobiles on his phone. Conner was talking with Diana, Donna and the two Wally Wests. Lois was already rejoining Clark, who was speaking with J’onn. Jason had already grabbed Alfred and was gently pulling him towards Koriand’r and Roy.

Barry was stepping up behind him. “Has Dick been…?”

Barry pointed, but it was useless, since Bruce had just spotted him. He was away from the crowds, further down the hall, staring into one of the closed doors, his arms folded across his chest.

Bruce nodded and gave Barry a short grin. Barry gently squeezed his shoulder before disappearing into their friends. Bruce inhaled and slowly walked forward. Everyone immediately gave him passing congratulations, and he smiled softly to each of them in return.

Dick didn’t look at him as he approached, kept just staring into the door. Bruce silently stood next to him, and glanced inside himself.

Damian and Jon stood there, next to a plastic crib. They were in matching teal scrubs that barely hid the few bandages they each had across their bodies. Nothing serious, like everyone had told him so far, but still enough that made his heart beat a little faster.

Jon’s wrist hung over the crib, and Bruce could see tiny fingers clinging to his middle one. His other hand was around Damian’s waist, rubbing calming circles against his hip. His head was up, nodding at whatever the doctor standing across from them and the crib was saying.

Damian, surprisingly, was opposite. His head was down, watching the child. His hand was cupping the baby’s head, stroking gently across its tuft of dark hair.

Bruce couldn’t see any other features on the baby. Its face was blocked by its fat belly and gleefully kicking feet. The hand not latched on to Jon’s waved every so often, where he could see a tube connected.

God, he couldn’t even see it and he adored this child already.

“Can you believe it?” Dick suddenly whispered. Bruce turned his head towards him, but kept his eyes on the door. He heard the baby give a loud squeal. Watched as Jon glanced down and grinned, shaking his captured finger. “Damian’s a dad.”

“So it appears.” Bruce smiled.

“He wasn’t one yesterday. There was no plan for him to be one, yesterday.” Dick continued, practically in awe. “This is…incredible.”

“The universe is an incredible place.” Bruce agreed. “…How long have you been here?”

“About an hour.” Dick admitted. “Damian called me when they hit Earth’s stratosphere.”

“Did you get to see the baby at all?” Bruce asked. In his periphery he saw Dick shake his head.

“They were already in there by the time I got here. Jon came out for a hot second to ask me to bring Lois to the ward when she arrived. But otherwise I haven’t talked to them.” Dick sighed. He shifted nervously from foot to foot. “…It’s almost laughable.”

“What is?”

“Damian’s the first of us to be a dad.” Dick smiled wistfully. “Mr. ‘I-Don’t-Need-Anybody’, Mr. ‘I’m-Not-A-Family-Person’, Mr. ‘Jonathan-and-I-Are-Too-Busy-To-Raise-Children’…and he’s the first of us to have a kid. A biological kid.”

“A biological child conceived and born in hours, from what I was told.” Bruce murmured. He chuckled. “Quite a…peculiar birth. Just like him.”

They lapsed into a silence then, as they continued to watch through the door. They could see both Damian and Jon conversing with the doctor, and suddenly, said doctor was lifting the baby from the crib, taking it out of view. The baby clung to Jon’s finger for as long as it could, even pulling a little as it was pulled away.

Almost immediately, Jon turned to Damian, and the two began to speak softly to each other. Damian’s face looked tired, nervous. Jon’s looked similar, but he smiled anyway, cupping Damian’s face in his hands. Damian clung to his wrists, closing his eyes as he leaned into one of the hands.

“…Do you remember when he was little?” Dick asked softly. “So tough and angry. I’d ruffle his hair and he’d try to cut my arm off.”

“He was a little…prickly.” Bruce smiled warmly. “Focused on nothing but Batman’s mission, and being the best. But you freed him from that viciousness.”

“I had help.” Dick laughed, watching as Jon leaned down and kissed Damian, before the two engulfed each other in an embrace. “Don’t sell yourself so short, old man.”

“Don’t sell yourself short either, Dick.” Bruce bumped his elbow into Dick’s side. “For as much as I loved him at the time anyway, much of his growth was because of you.”

“…Look at him, B.” Dick whispered after a moment. Bruce actually glanced at him now, and saw tears in his eyes. “Look how much he’s grown.”

Bruce put a hand on Dick’s shoulder, gave a squeeze as he glanced back towards the door. Damian was twenty-seven now, Jon twenty-four. Both tall and muscular, though Jon slightly more so, and both perfect mixtures of their parents. Each with their own lives, their own identities, creating their own legacies, their own destinies.

But right now all Bruce could see was the children they were. The friends forced together by their fathers, but almost instantly inseparable. The kids who were stronger than any man, and whose favorite game was to climb a life-sized replica of a tyrannosaurs rex that was nestled in a cave, and eat lunch in its mouth.

Damian said something and Jon laughed. Damian’s eyes lit up and his cheeks turned red as Jon kissed his forehead.

Bruce smiled too.

Friends from childhood. Lovers in adulthood.

And now, fathers.

Clark’s baby was a father. His baby was a father.

“I’m so proud of him.” Dick murmured, voice trembling in joy. “He’s just so happy, Bruce.”

Dick turned away, embarrassingly wiping at his eyes.

“God, don’t let him see me like this.” Dick laughed weakly. “It’ll ruin my chances of being the baby’s godfather.”

“It’s endearing.” Bruce promised, turning to look at him. “If nothing else, it’ll heighten your chances. Besides, you’ll still be its uncle no matter what.” A smirk. “And grandpa, depending on who you ask.”

“Oh god, Bruce no.” Dick laughed, wiping faster at his eyes. “I’m too young to be a grandpa.”

“How do you think I feel?” Bruce asked incredulously. “I just got told by Superman’s wife twenty minutes ago that I’m a grandfather!”

Dick looked over at him, eyes soft, the crinkles around his eyes more noticeable with his smile. “You’ll be a great one, Bruce. The very bes-”

There was the sound of a doorknob turning, a latch unhooking. Dick and Bruce both spun back around towards the door to the exam room to find it opening.

Suddenly, the whole hallway was silent, save for a light whooshing, electric noise. Clark was there instantly, Lois in his arms. Conner appeared with Tim, Jason was just finishing pushing his and Alfred’s way through the Justice Leaguers, and the Flashes were each dutifully helping Stephanie, Cassandra and Kara to their feet.

They all waited with baited breath.

It was Jon who was opening the door, and held it open for Damian to walk through. Damian, who had a swaddled bundle tight in his arms, stepped tentatively into the hallway. As soon as he was through the threshold, Jon was at his side, a protective arm around his back.

When Damian glanced up with his wide, shocked eyes – he looked at Bruce first. Then Clark, then Lois, then finally landed on Dick.

“I…” He croaked. Closed his mouth, cleared his throat. Let himself smile slightly as he returned his gaze to Bruce. “We…we have a daughter.”

He turned the baby outwards slightly. Her eyes were closed, but skin was the perfect mixture of Damian’s tan tones, and Jon’s pale colors. She had Jon’s wild curls, but very clearly Damian’s nose and eyebrows. There were immediately a few gasps and coos among the nearby Leaguers.

“Healthy?” Clark asked. “She checked out okay?”

“Completely perfect.” Jon exhaled in excitement. “Doc said she looks like every other baby he’s ever seen, all the way down to the DNA.”

“Anything about…powers?” Clark pushed.

“Dad.” Jon rolled his eyes. “She’s only a few hours old.”

“The doctor told us to monitor her as she grows, and go over your, Jon’s, Kara’s and even Conner’s personal histories.” Damian explained instead. “And if she does at any point present powers, it will likely follow the same timeline as the rest of you.”

Lois stepped forward, gently pressing her hand to the baby’s head. Like always, she asked the question everyone else was too nervous to.

“What’s her name?”

Jon and Damian glanced at each other, and Jon let out a light laugh.

“Martha.” Damian whispered, looking straight at Bruce, with a quick glance to Clark. “Martha Charlotte.”

“Hello Miss Martha Charlotte.” Lois cooed, leaning down to kiss the baby’s head. Martha just yawned, and curled back into Damian’s chest.

“Whose last name?” Dick asked gently, taking his turn to step forward. “Martha Charlotte Kent? Martha Charlotte Wayne? Hell, Martha Charlotte al Ghul?”

Damian smirked and Jon looked heavenward as he mumbled, “To be determined.”

Dick laughed as he looked between the two men. He let his laughter die out and asked, “You two nervous?”

“Is it that obvious?” Jon countered incredulously. “I mean…jeez, I’m still afraid to hold her!” He leaned into Damian’s back. “What if I…I don’t know, squish her, or something?”

“You won’t, Beloved. I promise.” Damian teased, leaning back to kiss at Jon’s cheek.

Dick smiled, and couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and pressed his temple against Damian’s, looking down at Martha. She gave a contented sigh.

“I am so, so, so proud of you, Damian.” Dick whispered, squeezing Damian’s arm. Lois nodded in agreement as she ran a hand through Jon’s hair, before returning her attention to the baby. “”I am so proud of you both.”

Damian let himself smile, let himself exhale in what almost sounded like relief as he leaned into Dick. He stood there a moment, let Dick and Lois fawn over the baby, before glancing up again. Clark was watching with a bright smile, one almost too big for his face. Waiting excitedly for his own turn, but clearly quickly losing his patience.

Then he looked to Bruce. Bruce who had just been staring silently since they stepped into the hallway, eyes wide, lips parted. A faint, awed smile was etched gently into his face, and it made Damian’s own smile widen. He slowly stepped away from Jon, Lois and Dick and towards his father, angling towards Clark in the process to include him too. “…Father?”

Bruce looked up at his face, the adoration clear in his old blue eyes.

“…I have a daughter, Father.” Damian breathed, looking towards Martha. She smacked her lips sleepily, and Damian’s smile, impossibly, grew. Let himself smile wider than Bruce had ever seen. “And I just…she is already my whole world. I…I’ve never loved someone so quickly.”

“That’s what having a child does to you, son.” Clark smiled.

Damian’s grin faltered, just slightly. “I’m sure it was not this way when I arrived in your life.”

It was a self-depreciating joke, made to downplay Damian’s importance to every single person in this hallway. But Bruce didn’t take it. Bruce didn’t dare play into the darkness that still plagued his youngest’s mind.

“On the contrary.” Bruce hummed, taking hold of his elbow. “I might have loved you even quicker.”

Damian snorted and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he just kept looking at Martha, shifting his hand to run across her tiny cheek. His voice was barely a breath. “…I have a daughter.”

“And she looks like you.” Bruce noted, poking at Martha’s nose. She scrunched it up and shook her head. Damian laughed, and held her even closer. “…I’m so happy for you.”

Damian looked up then, almost in surprise.

“You’re going to be a great father.” Bruce whispered, squeezing Damian’s elbow. “The best of any of us.”

Damian turned back towards his husband just in time to see Dick grab Jon and wrap him in the biggest hug he could. As Dick released him, Jon glanced over at him. “…And he will be an even greater one.”

Jon, who of course heard the whole conversation with his powers, grinned sheepishly.

Damian giggled as Jon stepped towards him, and kissed his forehead, then leaned down to do the same to Martha. A moment later, he allowed himself a deep breath. “Well. You ready?”

Jon glanced over his shoulder, towards their waiting brothers and sisters, to the entirety of the Justice League waiting behind them. He exhaled sharply. “As I’ll ever be, today.”

Dick laughed as he and Lois helped pushed the new parents forward. As Clark stepped closer to Bruce and hugged him in quiet glee.

“Welcome to the family, Martha.” Dick grinned, gesturing out to everyone, before looking down at the sleeping newborn in Damian’s arms. Damian and Jon looked happily at each other. “We’re so happy you’re here.”

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Thirteen:  Checking In on a Friend

A/N:  We, as a society, have evolved past the need for April Fools jokes.  Everything I tell you today is 100% genuine.  I pinky promise.  Even with my other pinky and my pinky toes.  But if you get near my pinky toes, I might stab a bitch.  Anyway, so!  For the sake of streamlining everything all nice and neat like, the Good Old Days is moving!  To Thursdays!  Why?  Because it’s when I post For the Family anyway.  Yay!  Branding!  Anyway, here.  Have this chapter, you nerds.  Love you x

ICYMI: Chapter Twelve:  What Happened to Your Face? 

Wow…The Scarlotti estate looks a lot different in the daylight.  And when I’m not here with Vanessa and Veronica.  And Veronica’s drooling on herself because of…I didn’t even catch the guy’s name.  Oh, well. He knows better now.  At least I think he does.  I sure as hell hope he does for his sake.  If he doesn’t, he knows where we are.  He can come back to the Narrows for round two.  As long as he doesn’t fuck with Veronica again.  But something tells me it’s not often a cab shows up to the front doors of this place.  I would’ve taken the Old Man’s town car, but this was something I needed to do.  He didn’t need to get involved.  

 When I walked up to the front door, I got nauseous. Was it the memories from last night coming back to haunt me?  No.  I mean, it could have been, but I doubt it. It’s the gut feeling that I knew I didn’t belong here.  This was beyond me.  This was high-class beyond high-class.  This was somewhere that the toilet seats could be eaten off of.  Where if I walked in the front door out of nowhere, I’d be mistaken as the house staff instantly.  Not that I’m knocking the house staff.  It’s helped keep a roof over our heads for the last however many years Mama’s been doing it.  I had no room to talk shit.  But at the same time, I knew damn well I didn’t belong here.

 Well…Here goes nothing.

 I grabbed the solid bronze knocker on the door and smacked it against the door a few times.  Granted, the house had a doorbell, but if Veronica was taking a nap, she didn’t need that going through her head.  Some Alfred Pennyworth looking mother fucker answered the door.  Please have an accent.  If you don’t, I’ll be so horribly disappointed in Saturday morning cartoons for lying to me.  I knew I had one, but I needed one that was more pronounced than mine.  

 “Can I…” the butler looked me over in disgust. Surprise, surprise.  I’m just happy he had an incredibly uppity British accent.  Thanks, Saturday morning cartoons.  I knew you’d never let me down, “Can I help you, sir?  Whatever it is you’re selling, I can assure you that the Scarlotti family is not interested.”

 “I’m not selling anything.” I told him, “I’m looking for Veronica.”

 “Oh,” Alfred held his composure.  Like a screen door in a hurricane, but he hung in there, “Mistress Veronica isn’t feeling well this morning.”

 “Please,” I wasn’t one to normally beg, but given the circumstances, pride went out the window, “I just want to make sure she’s doing ok.”

 “She will be,” he kept a tight lip, “Please see yourself…”

 “Frankie?” There was a welcomed voice.  There was something I needed to hear.

 “Hi, Vanessa,” I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I wanted to.  What can I say?  She’s got me hooked.

 “As I was saying,” Alfred (if that even is his real name.  I didn’t care enough to ask.), “Mistress Veronica isn’t feeling…”

 “He’s ok,” Vanessa brushed him off, letting me inside.  Oh, I like her.  She knows what she wants.  And it just so happens to be me, “What are you doing here?”

 “I came to check in on Veronica,” I took her hand, “How’s she feeling?”

 “She’s better,” she reported, “Considering how bad she was last night.  But she’ll be ok.”

 “That’s good,” I let out a quiet sigh of relief, “Do you think I could see her?”

 “Of course,” Vanessa got a little misty eyed. I don’t think she was expecting to see me today, let alone at her own front door.

 “But Mistress Vanessa…” I’m really starting to hate her butler, “Mistress Veronica shouldn’t be having visitors today. She’s not well.”

 “He’s ok,” Vanessa vouched for me, “He’s a friend. He’s ok.  Don’t worry.  I’ll go take him upstairs myself.”

 “Yes, Mistress,” he gave her a quick bow and let us go.

 “Sorry about that,” she led me up the stairs. It’s weird walking up these stairs and not having Veronica nearly asleep in my arms.  This was better.  This was definitely better, “Mr. Pearson is kind of overbearing.  He always has been since I was little.  As Veronica and Violet came along, he’s only gotten worse.”

 “Must be rough,” I teased her a bit.

 “It’s its own kind of hell,” Vanessa shrugged, “But I suppose it’s better than having no one care.”

 “Way to be the optimist, Vanessa,” I applauded, “That’s the spirit.”

 “Shut up,” she giggled, “I know.  I don’t mean to sound pretentious.  It comes with the territory.  And it makes my mother proud.”

 “I didn’t say anything.”

 “You didn’t have to,” she went up to Veronica’s door.  Was it this covered in neon paint when we were here last night?  I don’t remember it.  Then again, I had more on my plate that night.  Gently, Vanessa knocked on the door, cracking it a little, “Veronica? You awake, sweetie?”

 “Yeah,” Veronica’s voice sounded strained and tired, but it’s better than not hearing it at all, “I’m awake.  What’s up?”

 “You got a visitor,” Vanessa smiled, “Is that ok?”

 “Who the hell is coming to see me?” Veronica wondered.

 I stuck my head in the door, “Hi, Veronica.”

 “Twitchy!” Veronica didn’t even hesitate.  She jumped out of bed, throwing her arms around my neck, “Bad idea, but fuck it.”

 “Why bad idea?” I worried.

 “Because I may need to go throw up…” Veronica gagged a couple times, “Nope…Hold on.”

 Sure as shit, she took off toward the bathroom and made noises that should not come out of a human being, yet they came out of Veronica.  Poor kid. She didn’t deserve last night. Asshole didn’t deserve her attention. I didn’t want to put Vanessa through that phone call.  But it happened.  It’s not like we can go back and change it.  It’s not like I could’ve done something to keep Veronica from puking her brains out today.  At least she’s in high spirits.  

 “You feel better?” I hoped.

 “Yeah,” Veronica ran some Gatorade through her mouth and spat it down the sink, “I’ll be fine.  It’s been like this all morning.  The butlers think I’m sick.”

 “You were poisoned last night, Veronica,” I reminded her, “That’s definitely a kind of sick.”

 “No, no, no,” Veronica crawled back into her bed, “They think I got the flu or some shit like that.”

 “Yeah,” Vanessa winced, “We know better than to trust the butlers.  They’re fucking narcs.”

 “The butlers,” Veronica rolled her eyes, “The maids. Violet, if we’re not careful.”

 “You’re not wrong,” Vanessa sat at the edge of the bed.

 “That’s what you vented to me for, right?” I figured, sitting on the other side.

 “Yeah…” Vanessa’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. Oh, shit, she’s cute.

 “Really?” Veronica smirked, turning her attention toward her sister, “You’ve already spilled your guts to this guy, Ness? Shit must be getting serious already.”

 “I never said that,” Vanessa glared a hole through me.  And I think I might have fucked up a little here, “By the way, Frankie, have you met my little sister Veronica?  She’s an asshole and likes to poke her nose in my relationships.”

 “So, keep her away from my brothers,” I figured, “Got it.”

 “I told him what you said about him the night you met, too,” Veronica grinned.

 “Dammit, Veronica!” Vanessa snapped, “I tell you certain things in confidence!”

 “Don’t be mean to me,” Veronica whined, “I’m sick.”

 “No,” Vanessa’s anger only got worse, “I told you last night before you went out, don’t go out alone.  Stay out of the clubs for the night.  At least wait until my philosophy class is over.  But you didn’t listen.  Now that you’re awake and coherent, I can get pissed at you.”

 “Hold on, Vanessa,” I wasn’t sure if it was my place to step in here, but I had a feeling I needed to or it was going to turn to bloodshed, “I’m not exactly agreeing with the whole, be nice to her because she’s sick, thing, but how was she supposed to know some asshole would score in the Bronx just to drop it in her drink?  She didn’t ask for that.  She just wanted to go dance and have a good time, right, Veronica?”

 “Right,” Veronica looked at me strange, “How do you know where he got his shit from?”

 “Let’s just say,” I pulled Veronica into my side, “Everything was taken care of last night.  And everything’s going to be ok.”

 “What do you mean?” Veronica looked up at me, getting a better view of what happened last night.

 “It was taken care of,” I repeated.

 “Frankie…” Vanessa got nervous, “What happened last night? After you left here, where did you go?”

 “Can I speak to you privately for a second?” I put Veronica down in her bed and tucked her back in.  I pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head and whispered in her ear, “Trust me.  Everything’s going to be ok.  He got what he deserved.”

“Thank you, Frankie,” Veronica’s voice broke. She knew.  That’s all that mattered.  Now, to take on Vanessa.

 She and I stepped outside Veronica’s room and she dragged me down to the room next door.  This one wasn’t quite as colorful as Veronica’s.  More polished, less punk rock.  Vanessa sat me down on the bed, my hands in hers, “Frankie, we’ve been honest with each other since the first night we met.  I’d like it to stay that way.  Where were you last night after you left here?  And don’t say you went straight home because your face does not say you went straight home.”

 “You really want to know?” I was hoping to keep Vanessa out of the…business end of my life.

 “Please.”

 “I found the guy that drugged Veronica,” I came clean, “I brought him to the Narrows in Brooklyn and I beat the fuck out of him.  Look, I wasn’t going to let him get away with what he did.  That just went against my own moral code.  She didn’t need that last night.  You didn’t need to get that phone call.  I just…I couldn’t.  I’m just happy the Old Man let me take care of him instead of someone else.  And I get why you’d be mad at me.  We probably should’ve just turned him in, let it process through the system, and…”

 “Frankie,” Vanessa cut me off, throwing herself into my shoulder.  My still…Relatively sore…shoulder, “Why would you ever think for a second that I’d be mad at you for that?  For taking care of something that probably would’ve sat for months in the system?  No.  We didn’t have that kind of time.  Nobody deserves to go through what Veronica did. If you were looking to score brownie points with me, that would’ve been the best way.  Granted, I’m a little pissed, but mostly because you could’ve gotten hurt.  You did get hurt.”

 “Yeah…” I winced, “Just a little, though.  I’ve gotten into worse scraps than that.  He just happened to get lucky and get a couple good swings on him.  Not to be that cliché, but you really should see the other guy.  He got his ass handed to him.  But yeah.  He kind of fucked my face up, but it’ll heal.”

 “It will,” she kissed my cheek, “It’s still a cute face, though.”

 “Mama said the same thing,” I chuckled a bit. Then, I remembered the promise I made to Mama.  I wasn’t promising results, but it’d be worth a shot, “Speaking of Mama…She kind of wants to meet you.”

 “How does she know about me?” Vanessa wondered.

 “César sold me out,” I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, “And she wanted to know why I would’ve thrown myself into that kind of fire for just some random girl I met in a club on a run for the Old Man…And I had to explain who Veronica was.  So…Needless to say, she kind of wants to meet you both, but I get it if you don’t want to yet.”

 “Quit preparing yourself for no,” she smiled, “I’d be happy to meet her.  Veronica, on the other hand, is staying home for a while.  Her ass is grounded.”

 “You have that kind of power?”

 “It’s not like anyone else uses it,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “Someone has to actually raise the children here.”

 “Isn’t that what your parents are supposed to do?” I asked.

 “Mom’s always busy,” she explained, “Dad’s her lapdog. Their marriage is practically a sham. It’s sad.  So, one of us had to step up.  Why not me?  They have no clue about Veronica going out the way she does.  They don’t know about Violet throwing up at the sight of one of her report cards because god forbid she was a disappointment.  They don’t know about half the shit that’s gone on with us.  But that’s ok.  I understand. She has a company and a legacy on her shoulders.”

 “Oh, Vanessa,” I threw my arms around her, “Mama’s going to love you.  I promise.”

 “She’s never met me,” Vanessa thought, “How can you be so sure?”

 “Just…Trust me.” Anyone who knew Mama knew she was a sucker for those abandoned.  And she can smell it from a mile away.  It’s her superpower.  It’s almost scary.  And I have a feeling these two are going to get on like a house fire.

 “So,” she curled into me, “Tonight?  Is that ok for you?”

 “Tonight?” I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. Mama might be pissed.  She didn’t have time to prepare anything.  But we could manage.  I had no doubt in my mind.

 “I think we should go out tonight,” Vanessa went on, “I mean…It’d be a good way for me to say thank you for last night. I don’t think I could’ve gotten through that without you, Frankie.  Really, I don’t.  I mean, it wasn’t the first time I’ve dealt with Veronica like that, but…Fuck, that shit gets hard after a while.”

 “Shh…” I comforted her in the best way I could, “It’s over with.  She’s alright.  We just saw her.”

 “She’s never been roofied before,” her voice broke. Oh, yeah.  Mama’s going to eat you alive, “She’s had a few hits of E that went sideways and I’ve had to take care of her through bad trips, but…Roofies are new.”

 “And the asshole that did it bled on the floor of a warehouse in the Narrows last night,” I kissed her forehead, “Hopefully, it’ll be the last we hear of him.”

 Vanessa pulled herself together.  Just a little, “Eight o’clock.”

 “Eight o’clock,” I nodded, “I’ll see you tonight. Ok?”

 “Ok.” I put her down on the bed, but she grabbed the bottom of my shirt, “Where are you going?”

 “I need to get home,” I took her hand, “Don’t get me wrong, Vanessa.  I’d love to stick around just a little while longer…”

 “Then, do it,” she begged, “Don’t go yet.”

 “I mean…” I thought it over.  This might be a longshot and/or a disaster, but it’s worth a try, right?  God, I hope so, “Unless you wanted to come with me.”

 “Someone needs to watch Veronica,” Vanessa winced, “But…Eight o’clock.”

 “Promise,” I gave her one little kiss, “I’ll see you tonight.”

 “That’s the plan.” I got a smile out of her. That’s all I could ask for. Before I left, I peeked my head in Veronica’s bedroom.  Sleeping like a baby.  Good…Take care of yourself, kid.  

 Now, I had to lower the boom on Mama that I was bringing Vanessa home tonight.  And an entire cab ride back to Brooklyn to think about it.  It could go one of two ways.  Either I’m going to get beaten within an inch of my life with her shoe or she’s going to be ecstatic.  Fingers crossed for the second one.

[silenthillmutual]

what Classic Film(TM) you should watch based on who your fave Danganronpa 1/2 character is

disclaimer - obviously as a film dude i’m gonna say you should watch all of these. but maybe watch the one correlating to your fave first!

Makoto: 12 Angry Men (1957, dir. Sidney Lumet) - strong themes of justice, it’s about a jury trying to determine a man’s guilt. it’s basically what Makoto does for the entire game. you’ll also like it if you’re a fan of Phoenix Wright.

Sayaka: A Star is Born (1954, dir. George Cukor) - it’s all about a girl’s rise to fame and how her relationships change with that. there’s three versions of this film, most recently with Lady Gaga. 

Mukuro: Vertigo (1958, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - themes of murder and hiding your identity, losing yourself to a cause.

Leon: Animal House (1978, dir. John Landis) - a comedy about a fraternity. it’s THE college frat movie and i think Leon would enjoy it a lot.

Chihiro: WarGames (1983, dir. John Badham) - two teenagers might have accidentally started a world war during the cold war by trying to play computer games...fitting for the series, no?

Mondo: On the Waterfront (1954, dir. Elia Kazan) - struggling to do the right thing and being sort of frustrated about your circumstances as they pertain to class and missed opportunities. being dragged into bad situations by family. also Marlon Brando is a bicon and very hot in this movie.

Taka: Rebel Without a Cause (1955, dir. Nicholas Ray) - a lot of turbulent shit happens to three teenagers over the course of 24 hours. one of - if not the first canonically gay teenager on film. i think we all know by now that James Dean was mlm, but so were the director and Sal Mineo. big bi polyam vibes; if you like chishimondo as a ship you’ll probably like this film too.

Hifumi: Akira (1988, dir. Katsuhiro Otomo) - had a hard time figuring out what to put for Hifumi, but overall i think if nothing else he’d appreciate how impressive the animation was (and honestly, still is) along with the fact that the mangaka was also the director. so although there’s a lot cut out (the manga had not finished before the film came out), it’s still roughly the same plot as the manga.

Celes: Dracula (1931, dir. Tod Browning) - probably the most iconic iteration of Bram Stoker’s novel, this is the one staring Bela Lugosi. not terribly true to the novel from what i remember, but it’s peak aesthetic and exactly the kind of thing she’d enjoy.

Sakura: Rashomon (1950, dir. Akira Kurosawa) - finally getting onto films i haven’t actually seen but that are on my list. sakura’s another person i had a hard time deciding on a film for, but the “several characters telling different accounts of the same plot” reminded me a bit of her case in the game. 

Hina: West Side Story (1961, dir. Robert Wise & Jerome Robbins) - admittedly i had a different film in mind for her to start with, but Maria’s final monologue fits with Hina’s motivations during Sakura’s case.

Toko: Gone With the Wind (1939, dir. Victor Fleming) - another one i haven’t actually watched yet, but it’s based on a famous novel, described as “epic historical romance.” i think that vibes with Toko pretty well.

Byakuya: Citizen Kane (1941, dir. Orson Welles) - if you’re really interested in film, you’re gonna be made to watch this sooner or later. famous for being the “best film ever made”, it’s more or less about newspaper moguls like William Randolph Hearst - who is also the main reason why this film is famous at all. it’s not exactly a flattering depiction of those kinds of people and boy, did that ever piss Hearst off. if he hadn’t made such a big deal trying to keep Citizen Kane from seeing the light of day, something much better might have made it to the top spot. 

Hiro: The Music Man (1962, dir. Morton DaCosta) - based on the Broadway musical of the same name, a “travelling salesman” (read: con artist) starts to work his latest con on a gullible small town, but actually starts liking the people in it.

Kyoko: The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - not to be confused with the other Hitchcock film from the 30s also titled The Man Who Knew Too Much. this is the one with James Stewart and Doris Day. it’s a highly suspenseful film that gave us the song “Que Sera, Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be)”.

Junko: Gaslight (1944, dir. George Cukor) - ever heard the term “gaslighting”? this is where it comes from! based on a play in which a woman’s husband psychologically tortures her into believing she is going insane.

Monokuma: Duck Soup (1933, dir. Leo McCarey) - all Marx Brothers films are as utterly silly (and sometimes as incomprehensible) as one of Monokuma’s MonoTheatres. i watched about half of Duck Soup and had to stop because it was finals week and i was supposed to be doing something other than losing my shit.

Hajime: It’s a Wonderful Life (1946, dir. Frank Capra) - you probably already know this film. if you’re Christian you know it as That Film Your Parents Watch Every Year On Dec 24th Around Midnight. if you have seasonal depression, don’t watch it then; warning for suicidal ideation. it’s supposed to be uplifting. your mileage may vary on that one. 

Impostor: To Kill a Mockingbird (1962, dir. Robert Mulligan) - i don’t have a good reason to pair these two up other than gut feeling. as far as film adaptations of books go, it’s pretty damn good, and Atticus Finch is the original DILF. themes of childhood innocence and racism. 

Teruteru: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961, dir. Blake Edwards) - apparently much different from the novella on which it is based, but i think Teruteru would really dig the aesthetic and romantic vibes of the film. Holly Golightly is probably the original Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

Mahiru: Rear Window (1954, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - like It’s a Wonderful Life, chances are good you know this film - or at least, you’ve seen its plot recycled a hell of a lot. a professional photographer recovering from a broken leg thinks he witnesses a murder take place and is determined to get to the truth.

Peko: Seven Samurai (1954, dir. Akira Kurosawa) - another one on my to-watch list, but it’s oft referenced and remade in film. a village hires seven ronin to protect them from bandits who will return to steal their crops. 

Hiyoko: East of Eden (1955, dir. Elia Kazan) - i’ll be honest here, i didn’t really know what to put for Hiyoko because i’m not sure i understand much about her, but i seem to remember her family playing a pretty big role in her being Like That and for “shitty family” the first two things to come to mind were this and Giant. and unless you like 3-hour long movies about the state of Texas, i’m not about to recommend you watch Giant.

Ibuki: A Night at the Opera (1935, dir. Sam Wood) - another Marx Bros film in which they help a girl both to be with her lover and to achieve her dreams of stardom as an opera singer. the kind of silly, manic thing i think Ibuki would like.

Mikan: The Shining (1980, dir. Stanley Kubrick) - i hate hate hate putting this on here, but since this is for film and not books i couldn’t exactly state to read the book. the book is about the cycle of abuse. the movie is more about... a trapped man going crazy in a spooky hotel. 

Nekomaru: It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963, dir. Stanley Kramer) - comedy about five groups of people racing to get to a large sum of money buried by a recently escaped convict they stopped to help out after his car crash. it’s a comedy, and just kinda seemed like Nekomaru’s thing.

Gundham: The Seventh Seal (1957, dir. Ingmar Bergman) - i watched this in like 10th grade and all i really remember is a man playing chess with Death and if that doesn’t say Gundham Tanaka to you, i don’t know what does.

Nagito: North by Northwest (1959, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - i don’t really have a reason for this one either but it’s a spy film and i think komaeda could get behind that kind of intrigue. 

Chiaki: Metropolis (1927, dir. Fritz Lang) - not to be confused with the anime, this is a 1927 German expressionist film that seems to be about socialism and unionization. it’s also famous for its (purposeful) use of the Male Gaze and being one of the first sci-fi films ever made. be warned: it is a silent film.

Sonia: Strangers on a Train (1951, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - another one of those films you’ll get told to watch if you’re interested in the queer history of film, i was gonna put something else but honestly the character of Barbara kinda reminded me of Sonia. a famous tennis player meets a man on a train who attempts to plan a double-murder with him.

Akane: My Fair Lady (1964, dir. George Cukor) - i was trying so hard not to double up on the post about musicals, but Akane really does have Eliza Doolittle vibes. they’re both feral and nothing would be able to really domesticate them. for whatever it’s worth, this film and the musical on which it is based is itself based on the play Pygmalion, in which your typical rich cishet white dude bets he can turn any street urchin into a real lady because he’s just that good. you might know the plot better as Pretty Woman.

Kazuichi: A Streetcar Named Desire (1951, dir. Elia Kazan) - i don’t really have a good excuse for this one, either; i haven’t even watched it yet (although i have read the play on which it is based). all i’m gonna say is i want Souda to have his gay awakening via Marlon Brando, as we all do.

Fuyuhiko: Casablanca (1942, dir. Michael Curtiz) - despite his love and adoration for Ingrid Bergman, Humphrey Bogart decides fighting Nazis is more important. i think Fuyuhiko would like the aesthetic, and the film. don’t let him know but i think he’d probably cry watching it.

Usami: To Sir, With Love (1967, dir. James Clavell) - issues of race and class intersecting in a film about a teacher working with inner city students. i was going to put Singin’ in the Rain here, because it’s what Usami would want people to watch...but i think this better fits the effect she wants to have as a being. 

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 1

Meanwhile, Across Town by George deValier

Chapter saved by ocean-babyblues ♥

INTRODUCTION

.

Once, not all that long ago, the streets of Hetalopolis were ruled by greed and tyranny. Rival gangs roamed both alleyways and corporate boardrooms. Citizens huddled afraid in their homes, the night belonged to the darkness, and evil held the city in its iron fist. 

Then rose up the superheroes. Humans born with inhuman powers, who chose to fight the dark with the powers of virtue and right. For a time war raged above and within our fair city, the supervillains and the superheroes locked in an age old struggle of right and wrong, good and evil, light and darkness. 

Until finally there rose five. Five heroes from the north who vanquished the ruling villains of the east and drove the remainder into hiding. And the streets became safe once more. The villains faded into obscurity and the heroes found themselves unneeded, discarded, forgotten. Some moved on, took jobs, lived quiet, little lives. Others, unable to reside in normality, clung to their past dreams, their past glory. And for a while, all was well on the streets of Hetalopolis. 

But for some, peace is uneasy, and of those born with power some will always use it for darkness and gain. Evil now lurks in the shadows once more. But where there is evil, good will always rise to fight it, and where there is despair, hope is never far...

"Are you nearly done?"

"...huh?"

"Well, it's just, I mean, I asked you if you'd heard any news lately and you've been droning on for about ten minutes now, it's getting a bit tiresome."

"Some people can't appreciate a good bit of dramatic history."

"Some people don't have three years to stand around chatting in alleyways."

"Fair enough. You want to know what news I've heard? Read your local newspaper. The articles by Arthur Kirkland. He's the only one who seems to have a clue."

"I travel all the way here to the scummiest side of town to speak with you and you tell me to read the newspaper? What happened to the informer, the AlleyCat, the guy who always knows what's going on?"

"You asked. I answered. Go pick up your local newspaper. And remember my words."

"What words, aru?"

The AlleyCat shrugged, threw another handful of crumbs to the dozens of cats that always congregated around his feet. "'... where there is evil, good will always rise to fight it.'"

CHAPTER ONE

.

"Just what do you expect me to do with this?" shouted Ludwig Beilschmidt, chief editor of the Hetalopolis Times, throwing the small pile of paper down on his desk. Arthur winced and prepared himself for an outburst. "This is pathetic. Your last story was just as pitiful, but do you really think I will stand for this twice? What is this even…" The editor in chief picked up the papers again and stared at them incredulously. "'The Perfume Villain Strikes Again.'. That's your headline? No one has even heard of this 'Perfume Villain!' How can he 'strike again' when we didn't even know about the first strike?"

"Sir, he's actually robbed a few bank vaults by now, and I really think…"

"No, you don't think, Kirkland, that is your problem. You used to be brilliant. Your articles about The Nordic Five versus the Sunflower Posse were some of the best I have ever seen. They won you the damn Journalist of the Year award. But no one cares about superheroes anymore. Ever since the demise of the Posse, they're old news. Frankly, your work is slipping. And this," the editor threw the papers back down on the desk again, "Is trash. So get out there, bring me a great story, or I am going to have to think quite seriously about letting you go. Now get out of here and do your job."

Arthur picked up the papers and stormed out of the office, almost feeling smoke coming from his ears. He was fuming. He was furious. He was... he was a god damn writer and he couldn't even think of another synonym that started with 'f'. No wonder he no longer wrote the front page articles. Foul! There's a word. He was in one hell of a foul mood. Arthur stomped past rows of identical desks and identical tapping at keyboards and ceiling length windows that looked down on the sprawling city below. He fell into his chair and threw the papers onto his desk even more violently than Ludwig had done. And Ludwig was a champion at throwing paper angrily onto desks. He could compete in the bloody angrily throwing paper on desks world championship. Arthur was just thinking that at least things probably couldn't get any worse when Francis Bonnefoy, fellow journalist, fashion editor, and fabulously irritating thorn in Arthur's side, spun around from his desk in front, smiled revoltingly, and practically sprawled across Arthur's desk. "Well?" Arthur snarled at him. Things could always get worse.

"Same old bleeding bloody buggery bullshit." Arthur realised he seemed to be a fan of alliteration when pissed off. Francis flinched and sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Language, dear, sometimes you conjure up the most horrific mental images."

"What the hell does he expect me to do?" asked Arthur angrily, loudly ignoring Francis. "I can't create stories out of thin air! I'm a journalist, not Stephen bloody King! How can I be constantly expected to produce five star, gold material when the most interesting thing that has happened this week is that Miss Katyusha from channel five news busted her top open live on air Wednesday night?"

"And the gossip department is already all over that one," nodded Francis sympathetically.

"Do you know what I mean though?" Arthur was nearly shouting now. "No one else gets this sort of pressure put on them. Look at Feliciano." Arthur gestured to where the Italian food critic was currently sitting ON his desk, making paper planes and throwing them at the sports department. "What has he published, two articles in the last month? And he's not getting called into Ludwig's office every day."

"Well, he is, but for an entirely different reason I think."

Arthur groaned and dropped his head onto the desk. "This is so unfair! What am I supposed to do?"

"Come up with a brilliant story," said Francis brightly. Arthur resisted the urge to stab him in the eye with a pen.

"There are no stories, I've already told you." Arthur spoke through gritted teeth. "The town is running better than it has in years. The supervillains have pretty much disappeared and the only heroes left have nothing to do but get kittens down from trees and help little old ladies cross the street. So, pray tell, where am I supposed to find this brilliant story?"

But Arthur knew where the stories were. He was convinced that the only reason no one cared about superheroes anymore was because most of the popular ones had retired. If only there was someone new, someone fresh and interesting that people could get excited about. And if this new superhero had an adversary, well, there was Arthur's golden ticket to journalism popularity. The glittering awards shows, the lavish dinners with heads of state, the prestige that came with having the rich and famous under the power of his pen. It could all be his again. Arthur already had the villain of his story... true, a rather smalltime, unknown, pathetic villain, but what was good journalism without a little embellishment... so now he just needed the hero. But where the hell was he supposed to find...

"Here's your coffee, Mr K!" Arthur looked up to see Alfred Jones, resident copy boy and coffee maker, stumble towards him like an out of control steam train. Arthur pushed his chair back just in time to avoid the cup that smashed and spilled over his entire desk.

"Bloody blasted hell boy, watch what you're damn well doing! And I asked for tea!"

"Sorry about that, Mr K," said Alfred apologetically, leaning over the desk in an eager, dementedly happy attempt to clean up the mess.

"No," said Arthur, trying to salvage what he could of the soaking papers, "Just leave it."

"I am sorry, honest, I'll get you another one just as soon as I've cleaned this..." Alfred pulled a handful of crumpled tissues from his pocket and used them to wipe down the desk. "Oh man, I even spilled some in your lap, lucky it wasn't actually that hot, here let me..."

Arthur shot out of his chair like a rocket. "Hands, watch the hands!"

"Sorry sorry!" Alfred backed away, hands in the air. Arthur sighed in exasperation. How did they even hire people these days...

"Look, listen, Allan..."

"Alfred," corrected Alfred, sounding a little hurt.

"Yes yes of course. Just... look, just go away, will you? I'm incredibly busy right now."

Alfred's face fell and he nodded. "All right, Mr K, I really am sorry though." He walked away slowly and Arthur grumbled as he turned his attention back to saving what he could from his coffee soaked desk. Francis stared at him through narrowed eyes.

"You are too harsh on him."

"Well he's a walking train wreck with impeccably bad timing. Why did you even suggest Ludwig hire him?"

"Well, look at him. He's so... energetic. And cute. Just look. I mean really, look now, while he's walking away, he's got a really cute butt."

Arthur refused to admit that Francis was right on that last point. He forced himself not to look. "He's a bloody nuisance is what he is."

"He has a crush on you, you know." Francis waggled his eyebrows. Arthur felt himself turn red.

"Don't be ridiculous. And stop bothering me, I'm busy! Don't you have your own work to do? Just look at the time. Oh bugger off!" Francis just laughed as he turned back to his own desk.

Arthur stayed late at the office, trying to work on the dregs of this nonexistent story he had. A small time villain whose power appeared to be a nerve paralysing fume he used to render guards and law officers unconscious. Nothing special, but he had so far managed to make off with a few million dollars worth of diamonds and jewellery. But no deaths, no battles. Nothing much to draw the publics attention. Now if only there was a hero to set out, fight, and defeat the guy... now that would be interesting. That would make a story.

By the time Arthur finally left the office the building was empty, and the dark alley he exited onto was silent and unlit. He'd always hated that the staff exit led to this horribly narrow and smelly and sinister alleyway. It was bad enough in the middle of the day. But at this time of night… Barely paying attention to his surroundings, but walking a little faster than usual, Arthur only made it halfway to the main street before the lane was blocked by two huge men before him. Arthur froze and took a wary step backward.

"Little late to be leaving work alone, isn't it?" asked one of the men unpleasantly, stepping forward as Arthur stepped back.

"Well... uh... you know how it is, deadlines and such..." Arthur turned to look behind him but another man, even bigger than the first two, stepped out of the shadows to block the way. Arthur swallowed the rising fear in his throat.

"Now we don't want to make this any more unpleasant than it has to be," said the third man, cracking his knuckles and making Arthur shudder. The other men laughed as they advanced. "Oh wait... yes we do."

Arthur stood frozen for a moment before adrenaline pumped through his veins and he attempted a brash, futile escape. He was swiftly grabbed by the shoulder and slammed against the wall. One of the men pulled his laptop case from his arm and the other tore his briefcase from his grip before rifling through his jacket. "Wait, no..." Arthur couldn't believe this... it was like it wasn't real. His pulse thrummed hazily in his head. Wasn't this just his bloody luck... right when the damned city was getting safe, he gets mugged in the street. He tried for another escape but received a stunning blow to his cheek for the trouble. The men were laughing. Their hands were like iron. Arthur couldn't escape. He started to panic.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a red, white and blue tornado descended before Arthur's eyes. A few surprised shouts, a grunt, a flurry of fists and limbs and garish colour and before Arthur knew it the three men were lying unconscious on the ground. He blinked dazedly in surprise and looked up at his unexpected saviour. He wiped his eyes and shook his head, but the strange vision before him remained the same. The man was dressed in an awful blue Lycra unitard, enormous boots that looked like they had been spray painted red, and what looked suspiciously like an old bed sheet tied around his shoulders. He put his hands on his hips and stood before Arthur in an impossibly ridiculous stance.

"Are you all right, fair dams… uh… citizen?"

Arthur squinted. Sure it was dark, and he was a little shaken, but he was fairly sure that the guy standing right before him was… "Alfred?"

Alfred's eyes darted and he laughed nervously. "Who is this Alfred you speak of?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Alfred, I know it's you."

"I know nothing of this Alfred. For I, fair citizen, am…" Alfred took a deep breath, thrust out his chest, and tossed his bed sheet behind his shoulder. "America-man!"

Silence. Arthur swore he could hear crickets chirping. "No you're not, you're Alfred Jones, the copy boy who spills my tea every day."

Again Alfred looked around nervously. "I swear, fair citizen, I..."

"Alfred, you can't just take off your glasses and wrap a sheet around you and expect it to be a credible disguise."

"Oh." Alfred deflated somewhat. Arthur tilted his head as he studied him. He didn't know whether to laugh. Alfred almost looked like a little boy playing dress up. A rather tall, oversized, very muscular actually through that Lycra...

"Not thinking that! I mean, uh, so you're a superhero then?"

"Yep!" At Arthur's skeptical expression, Alfred's brave smile fell a little. "Okay, so I've only just started, and I don't have a copyright yet, or a proper uniform, really, or a, uh..."

"Clue?" supplied Arthur.

"I suppose, but hey." Alfred brightened and thrust out his chest again. "Did you SEE the ass kicking I gave those guys?"

Arthur looked down at the unconscious would-be muggers. There were a few superhero wannabes around... those who had a lot of enthusiasm but no actual powers... but Alfred had certainly done a number on the three men. Plus he had a certain something, indefinable, an attitude that made it seem like he really could take on the world. Maybe there was something there after all. Maybe Arthur could work this to his advantage. "All right. Alfred?"

"Yeah? Oh, damn it..."

"Listen here."

"Okay."

"You want to be a superhero?" Alfred nodded eagerly. "So, now I'm just guessing here, you can't fly."

"No."

"You can't turn invisible."

"No."

"You don't have super speed?"

"Uh… no."

"Forgive me for asking, but what exactly is your superpower then?"

"Well, I can do this. Follow me." Arthur picked up his laptop and suitcase and followed Alfred out of the alley, taking care to kick his unconscious attackers in the head as he went. Then he watched as Alfred walked over to a car parked on the side of the road, grabbed it by the bumper, and in one fluid movement lifted it over his head. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Super strength. Well that's something. Very well, Alfred Jones..."

"America-man."

Arthur paused only briefly. "As I was saying, very well. I believe there may be some hope for you after all. But first thing is first. We are going to have to do something about that outfit of yours. Now you, follow me." Arthur turned and headed down the street. Alfred hurried to follow. "Alfred."

"Yeah?"

"Put the car down."

"Oh. Right."

Alfred wanted to be a superhero. Arthur needed a story. He smiled to himself. He may have just found the answer he was looking for.

.

Meanwhile, across town…

.

The third security guard fell to the ground, motionless. The masked villain smiled as he passed. No one could withstand the assault of his nerve paralysing perfume. Years of exposure had left him immune, but when others smelled it they dropped like little old ladies who got in his way in the after Christmas sales. With none left to obstruct him, he strutted calmly and purposefully to the locked room at the end of the hall. He held up the key, recently obtained from a helplessly unresisting bank manager, and placed it into the lock. The doorknob turned with a satisfying click and the masked man stepped into the undefended room.

The perfume villain walked over to a small safe on the back table, pressed in a simple five number code, and smiled when the little black door swung open. He pulled out a blue velvet box and held it up to the light, inspecting his nails as he did. He frowned. He'd already chipped one. And he'd only just had a manicure. He placed the box in his exquisitely tailored jacket and turned on his red varnished heel. The steadily approaching sound of sirens did not bother him. He would be gone well before they arrived. He giggled to himself and gave a tiny wave to a security camera as he passed.

"Totally killer. Seriously, that was, like, way too easy. Classic."

To be continued…

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

THANK YOU OCEAN-BABYBLUES FOR SAVING THIS CHAPTER!

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 24

Masterlist (I’m going to experiment with internal links and see if tumblr will disappear this chapter from the tag if I do this)

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 5.5k

Summary: Secrets in Wayne Manor rarely remain secret. Tiger has tough decisions to make.

Notes: I'm making up my own scraps on canon because I have no idea what canon currently looks like. And, honestly, canon sucks like 75% of the time anyway. So there.

Warnings: references to alcohol, references to mental health issues. These are mostly addressed in passing.

****

Chapter 24

Tiger used to be good at multitasking. His life had depended on it as a double agent for Checkmate. Now, trying to juggle Dick’s condition, Bruce’s knowledge that he’d shot Alia, his own guilt and the looming issue of Checkmate threatened to send him into a breakdown.

He was beginning to understand why Jason drank so much, and that made him increasingly grateful for his faith. It was the only thing holding him together some days. Taking time out to pray and read the Quran forced him to slow his thoughts and direct them away from self-pity and anxiety. Thus, Tiger found himself sticking to his prayer schedule much more diligently than he had in a while. He asked Allah’s forgiveness for his lapse, and the peace he found in prayer seemed to tell him that forgiveness had been granted.

Praying alongside Damian was the only time the world felt even remotely stable.

As soon as he stepped out of the room and Dick wasn’t there to bother him, however, the world turned sideways again. Even if Dick were awake, he likely wouldn’t have the strength to drag himself out of bed for a few more hours at least.

Damian pinched his arm. “Alfred will have begun making breakfast. We should help him.”

Tiger managed a smile. “Dick tells me your ‘help’ means sitting at the counter and criticising everyone’s cooking.”

“If a talentless nobody from Gotham can be paid to tell other people how to cook, why am I not allowed to do the same?”

Tiger had no idea who exactly Damian was referencing, but it didn’t matter. “A compelling argument. Lead the way.”

“I heard you shot Agent 8 before she could turn Grayson into a puppet,” Damian said as they walked.

“And where did you hear that?” Tiger was past the point of concern, since the worst had already happened. He was, however, curious.

“Todd and Drake are not as subtle as they think.”

“Is there anyone in this house who does not know?”

“No. Brown and Cain were eavesdropping as well. Pennyworth, of course, knows everything.”

“I see.” Tiger wasn’t sure if this made him feel better or worse. “And Barbara?”

“Gordon also knows everything. She was once an information broker.”

Tiger could feel the beginnings of a headache pinching his temples. “Do any of you have privacy in this house?”

“It depends.”

They reached the kitchen.

“Good morning, sirs,” Alfred said, whisking a bowl of batter. He asked Damian to chop some fruit and Tiger was tasked with cracking more eggs. They worked peacefully together for a while. Tiger had forgotten how good it felt to keep his hands busy and let his mind rest.

He was beginning to miss gardening. He hadn’t had the opportunity since the undercover mission in Gloria’s neighbourhood had ended. He was tempted to ask Alfred if he could help him in the garden but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Tiger could survive most social situations, but this family was not like most.

Cassandra arrived not long after Tiger had begun to grate cheese for omelettes. Alfred had her set the table. There was little discussion, aside from the occasional instruction from Alfred. Tiger found himself enjoying the peace of it… and then immediately wondered what was wrong with him.

Except for prayer time, Tiger did not consider himself the type of person to simply rest on his laurels. There was always something to do. Moments of inactivity were to be avoided whenever possible. And yet… he was quite content.

“Well, ain’t this fucking domestic.” Jason leaned against the kitchen door. He was paler than usual and the set of his mouth suggested nausea.

“Language, sir,” Alfred said mildly, dropping a fizzing tablet into a glass of water and passing it to him.

“Sorry,” Jason mumbled before immediately gulping down the whole glass.

Damian scoffed. “I thought Drake was being dramatic when he said you were indisposed last night.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and then immediately clapped a hand over them. “Ow. Bad idea.”

“I heard that, Damian.” Tim slid past Jason to grab a handful of cutlery from the drawer with the hand not occupied by a coffee mug. He smiled at Tiger. “Cass recruited me into table-setting duty.”

“Bribed you, more like.” Jason stole the coffee mug and downed its contents. Tim retreated to the dining room without acknowledging what had just happened. Tiger did not know what to make of that.

“Will Master Dick join us for breakfast this morning, sir?” Alfred asked.

“I am uncertain,” Tiger replied. Dick had been on the mend last night, but sometimes the fatigue after his migraines would linger and make it difficult for him to leave his bed.

Alfred sent him off to check on Dick. He passed Stephanie on the way, who pointed a pair of finger guns at him and made a clicking sound with her tongue. He did not understand, but it seemed friendly, so he nodded at her.

Tiger opened the bedroom door quietly, but he needn’t have bothered. Dick was sitting on the bed, fully dressed and tying his shoelaces. “’Morning, sunshine.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Mostly human.” Dick sat up. “And very hungry.”

“Breakfast will be ready soon.” Tiger helped him up. “You should eat.”

“That’s the plan.” Dick stepped closer and planted a kiss on Tiger’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Tiger came very close to giving a kneejerk I’m fine, but Dick’s eyes narrowed and he instantly knew that was not an acceptable answer.

“I missed you this morning,” he admitted.

Dick sighed. “I know. I would’ve been there if I felt up to it.”

Tiger took his hands, squeezing gently. “I know. I do not blame you.”

Dick squeezed back. “So, where have you been?”

“Damian insisted we help Alfred prepare breakfast.” Tiger paused, wanting to say more but not quite knowing how to articulate the feelings swirling inside him.

“And?” Dick prompted.

“I liked it.”

“Tiger, are you telling me you didn’t realise you liked cooking?” Dick grinned, haltingly at first as if waiting for it to hurt. “Have you, like, forgotten everything that happened while we were fake-married?”

“I repressed it.” That wasn’t entirely truthful, but the face Dick made at him was worth it.

Dick snorted. “Of course you did. Come on. I need food.”

 Breakfast was weird. Jason was clearly hungover, so he wasn’t saying much, and Tim was preoccupied with his laptop. Dick was grateful for the quiet, since his head still didn’t feel quite right, but it was still disconcerting.

Then Steph went for the jugular. “Where were you last night, Jason?”

Tim sighed and kept typing.

Jason rubbed his eyes. “Mind your damn business.”

“Okay, just asking…”

Cass smacked her arm. Jason mumbled something about wishing he hadn’t gotten out of bed.

Damian rolled his eyes so hard his head moved. Mercifully, though, he just kept eating his omelette without adding to the conversation.

Last night felt like a bit of a fever dream to Dick. He wasn’t sure if it was coming off the migraine, or the fact Jason had spoken openly about his feelings that had done it. Both, probably.

Breakfast settled back into quiet, but an uneasy kind of quiet. Then the door squeaked open to reveal Bruce. Jason glared up at the ceiling before pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

Bruce took a seat and poured himself a cup of coffee. “How was your meeting with Duke last night?” he asked Tim.

Tim shrugged. “Fine. I talked to the Rows as well.”

“Did you ask that Cullen kid out yet?” Jason said.

Tim fixed him with a silent stare.

“What? He wants you to.”

Tim sighed. “I’m not having this conversation. Everyone’s doing fine, Bruce. Honestly, given how well they held the city the night we took down Spyral, you can probably afford to give them a longer leash.”

Bruce nodded silently and grabbed some oatmeal. “Anyone have something to report that we didn’t cover last night?”

“Oh, Catwoman’s showing her face again,” Steph replied. “Forgot to mention. I think she’s being a good girl, though.”

An exhausted look crossed Bruce’s face before he reset his expression. “We’ll see.” He visibly fortified himself with a spoonful of oatmeal. “Checkmate is increasing their presence in Gotham for the moment. I need everyone on alert.”

Barbara slipped into the room and took a seat.

“Has Helena given us any indication what they’re going to do with their Spyral prisoners?” Tim asked, looking up from his screen.

“They’re recruiting heavily,” Bruce replied. “It’s my understanding they haven’t decided what to do with Bannon yet. Bertinelli has strongly discouraged his recruitment, but her opinion may not matter.”

“I’ve spotted Helena a few times in Burnside,” Barbara added. “She doesn’t trust me at all, but she did mention she’s not sure Checkmate is listening to her about Bannon.”

Dick wasn’t sure what to do about that. Tiger could reveal himself as a Checkmate agent, but things were precarious enough already. But if he could convince them to avoid recruiting Bannon…

Tiger sighed. “I may be able to help.”

“May being the operative word,” Dick added. He didn’t know a huge amount about Tiger’s relationship with Checkmate, except he was trusted enough to undertake a long-term undercover mission in a rival spy agency on his own. That had to count for something, right?

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Is this about your affiliation with Checkmate?”

Tiger, to his credit, took that in his stride. “Yes.”

They stared at each other, and Dick was starting to wonder if an intervention would be required.

Jason cracked first. “Oh my fucking god just say something.”

“I need to report in to Checkmate regardless,” Tiger said. “They will ask for my report and I will have the chance to give recommendations.”

“Are we all just gonna skate over the fact Tiger’s literally been a Checkmate agent this whole time?” said Stephanie. “Like, am I the only person not keeping up?”

“Checkmate placed me in Spyral a number of years ago to stop them from finishing their mission,” Tiger explained flatly. “My goals aligned with Dick’s, even if our preferred methods did not. Fortunately, Dick was able to free Helena from Daedalus before I had to kill her.”

“Unfortunate for Agent 8 that she did not have the same opportunity,” Bruce said.

“We’ve already established Agent 8 was dead long before we got in the room,” Jason shot back.

A muscle twitched in Tiger’s jaw. Dick bumped their knees together.

“Can we focus on Bannon?” Dick said. “Tiger’s offering to explain to Maxwell Lord, and probably Amanda Waller if we’re being honest, that recruiting Bannon is a bad idea. Which it is. Shall I show off my scars? Or we could just wait until the next time I get a migraine?”

Bruce exhaled loudly through his nose. “Point taken. Tiger, if you think you can convince them, I won’t stop you. Do you intend to rejoin Checkmate?”

“No,” Tiger replied.

Jason raised his hands. “Well, that settles it. Now, out of respect to those of us with killer headaches, can we all shut up now?”

But Bruce was still watching Tiger. “You remained loyal to Checkmate for the duration of a very long undercover mission, which provided ample opportunity to defect. Ultimately, however, you carried out your mission and destroyed Spyral. Why not return to Checkmate?”

Tiger had somehow managed to retain eye contact. “Perhaps I have learned Checkmate is no longer the right place for me.”

Bruce just watched him.

Dick had to say something. “Yeah, I’d say going back to the organisation that wants to recruit the guy who tortured the shit out of both of us isn’t that appealing.”

“Even if I wanted to,” Tiger added, “it is unlikely I would pass their reintegration tests.”

“They just deputise people in the field most of the time anyway,” Tim said, tapping on his keyboard again. “Checkmate can afford to let an agent retire every so often.”

Tiger twitched a little at the word retirement. It was probably the correct word, but Dick supposed he hadn’t really thought about it like that. Or much at all. They had been preoccupied of late.

“We can always use more help in Gotham,” said Steph. “I think Tiger would look great in spandex.”

Tiger raised his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation.

“We’ve had that discussion already,” Dick said. “He vetoed the spandex.”

“Most of us don’t even wear spandex anymore,” Tim pointed out, frowning at his computer screen. “I think it’s safe to say Dick was the only one who ever liked wearing it.”

“Being able to bounce a quarter off my own ass isn’t any fun unless everyone else knows I can do it,” Dick replied. Tiger frowned at him.

“Is this another idiom? It is a bad one.”

“Is there such a thing as a good idiom?” said Tim.

Dick put a hand over his heart. “You take that back.”

Tim rolled his eyes and went back to typing. “I am very sorry, Dick. Please forgive me.”

Tiger looked like he had no idea what was going on. Which was fair. He and Damian shared a look.

It was probably for the best when Cassandra spoke up to bring everyone back on topic. “Tiger needs backup.”

Bruce nodded. “You have a point. Tiger, could you arrange a meeting if I provided a cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“Do it. We will arrange backup once we know when you are expected.”

 It was a simple enough matter to call the external agent line and arrange a debriefing. Tiger didn’t typically use the phone line. It felt wrong to do it now. However, that was the technology Bruce had provided.

He was not sure what to make of this. He supposed it was not surprising to hear Bruce had known he was connected to Checkmate, but he still felt blindsided.

The matter of backup also had him on edge. He would have preferred Dick be on the mission, but that was not an option. Jason would likely not be chosen, either, especially now that his meeting had been scheduled during the day. He could not envision anyone from Dick’s family performing such a task in broad daylight.

Perhaps Helena was available.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dick had been lying in bed, watching the ceiling while Tiger had made the phone call. He had yet to fall ill today, but something didn’t seem… right. Tiger suspected he would have another attack tomorrow.

“I need to contact Helena,” Tiger said.

“For backup? Good idea. I’d go myself, but…”

“You are allergic to daylight.”

“Exactly.” Dick scowled; it didn’t suit him. “Fuck me… I really hope this isn’t permanent. I’m bored shitless. Seriously. I can’t even read.”

“Could you ever?”

“Oh, by all means, kick me when I’m down.” Dick pinched his leg. “This what they teach you at Checkmate?”

“Yes, we are trained to hurt your feelings. Yours specifically.”

“I can believe it.” Dick stretched. “You got a way to talk to her? I’ve got a communicator in here somewhere.”

“Yes, but Bruce may prefer to contact her himself… if he trusts her enough.”

“Ugh. I’ll talk to him.” Dick sat up slowly. “He’s probably down in the cave again.”

“The screens will give you a headache.”

“I’m already on the way to another migraine anyway.” Dick stood up and stretched. A joint cracked. “Ooh, that was nice.”

“Should I come with you?”

“Probably not.” Dick leaned down to kiss him. “I’ll be a few minutes. Probably. If you could go check on Jason, that’d be great. He’s been more off than usual since he and Bruce talked yesterday.”

“I am not the right person to address the problem.” Tiger knew very little about their problems, with the obvious exception that Jason died, came back and wanted the Joker dead.

“You don’t need to talk about it.” Dick crossed to the door. “Just hang out with him or something. Please?”

Tiger sighed. “Fine.” Saying no to Dick was hard at the best of times. So while Dick headed to the Batcave, Tiger knocked on Jason’s door.

“I’m not here,” Jason said.

“That is not how it works,” Tiger replied.

“Whatever. Come in.”

Tiger pushed the door open. Jason was sitting on his bed, twisting a screwdriver into the side of his grapple launcher. His face had more colour in it than it had this morning.

“Feeling better?” Tiger said dryly.

Jason snorted. “You really want the answer to that?” He set down the launcher. “Dick put you up to this?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least you’re honest.” Jason patted the bed. “May as well come here. Should we braid each other’s hair? Talk about boys?”

Tiger sat down. “Are those normal activities for you?”

��Nah, I normally just scroll Grindr in my boxers while watching soap reruns.”

“Riveting.”

Jason shrugged. “Most of us aren’t one half of a battle couple.”

“A what?”

Jason laughed. That seemed like a good thing, but Tiger didn’t know him well enough to be certain. Dick would probably like it.

“You and Dick. Battle couple. You know, if you were in a movie you’d be standing back-to-back with a cool pose ready to kick some ass.”

That forced a single, bitter laugh out of Tiger without his permission. “Maybe we were like that before we left Spyral.”

“And now?”

“I’m not sure either of us will ever fight again.”

Jason lifted a knee to his chest and rested his chin on it. “Okay, so maybe if we can’t find medicine for Dick, or if he doesn’t get better on his own… he might not make it back into the field. But what’s stopping you?”

“Are you sure you want to have this conversation?” Tiger hadn’t even talked about this properly with Dick. He wasn’t sure where he stood.

“I asked.” Jason fixed him with a steady stare. Tiger had read his file; he was meant to have bluer eyes than this, but they were a disconcerting teal-green. Perhaps it was the Lazarus Pit. Either way, his stare was… penetrating. Tiger found himself answering.

“I don’t enjoy battle as much as I once did,” he admitted. “I am also experiencing… ethical concerns.”

“About killing people?”

“Yes.”

Jason sighed. “Look. I might not be the best guy to give advice, but maybe you should train more with Bruce. He’s a piece of work, but he’s a master of nonlethal combat. And maybe he’ll grow the fuck up if you spend more time with him. Hasn’t worked for me, but…”

It was worth considering, but that wasn’t the only thing on Tiger’s mind. He wasn’t sure he had the mental strength to work in the field anymore. It was easy enough to think it, but saying it was another matter entirely.

Jason was still looking at him. “I’ll be level with you, Tiger. We can always use an extra pair of hands here, but we’re not hurting for help. There are some new kids on the block who help out here and there. If you wanted to join us, I’d welcome you. But… it’s not for everyone. And, honestly? Every time someone successfully retires from this life, that’s a good thing. It proves to the rest of us that it’s possible. Because for some of us, the thought of not going out there every night is unthinkable. I mean, we literally don’t know how we’d cope without it. It’s a fucking addiction. So if in the end you decide you don’t want to fight anymore? Good for fucking you.”

“You’ve thought about retiring?”

“When I’m really fucking drunk, usually.” Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “And sometimes when I’m hungover. But I don’t think I’m ready for that. You talked about this with Dick yet?”

“No.”

“I get it. He’s got his own shit going on. You should talk to him, though.”

“I might, once we know if his migraines are treatable. I do not wish to add to his worries.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Dick likes it when you tell him shit. He’s like that with all of us.”

“Fine. If it comes up, I’ll tell him. If not…”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t know why I bother giving you relationship advice anyway. What the hell do I know?”

“Aside from how Grindr works? I have no idea.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, I set myself up for that one.”

 Dick almost took his sunglasses down into the Batcave, but then he wouldn’t be able to see shit. So he didn’t. Bruce was parked at the computer, frowning at the screen like he often did. He just looked like that, even when he wasn’t pissed.

“I used to think you were mad when you glared at the screen like that,” Dick said, leaning against a part of the computer that kept him mostly angled away from the worst parts of the screens.

“Hm.” Bruce pressed a button and the screens dimmed a little. “You did often ask what you’d done wrong when you were little.”

“Yeah, because I thought you were pissed at me.”

Bruce glanced up at him. “Stephanie tells me I have that kind of face.”

“Well, yeah. You do.”

Bruce’s concentration frown eased a little. “Better?”

“I mean, it’s like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound, but it’ll do.”

Bruce managed not to roll his eyes, but it did look like his soul left his body for a second. “Did you need something?”

“Tiger arranged a meeting with Checkmate. It’s during the day, so he was thinking Helena might make good backup instead of one of us. She’ll attract less attention.”

“And your thoughts?”

“I agree with him. Most of us are either too famous or too dead. And, I mean, a media frenzy about me taking my new boyfriend out on the town wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened, but I’m currently allergic to daylight, so…”

Bruce glared at his screen again, and this time he did seem irritated. “I’ll consider it. Cass or Stephanie are also an option.”

“We need Helena,” Dick said firmly. “If you want someone with her, that’s fine, but this is Tiger’s party. I think he should have a say in who gets invited.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

“Okay.” That was easier than Dick had expected. “You know I get suspicious when you give in too easily, right?”

“I know.”

“I’m naming my next migraine after you.”

“I’m honoured.” Bruce typed something into the computer. “I imagine Tiger would prefer to contact Bertinelli himself, and that you intended to give him access to your communicator. You can give him one of the spares. Have Tim code it to give him a unique identifier.”

Dick would normally do it himself, but he couldn’t look at a screen for long enough. “Will do. What are you working on?”

“Updating crime files. Tim’s been playing with an electronic-paper display e-reader that you can use when your eyes are up to it. I’ll send some audio files if you like. The reader should nearly be ready for you.”

“Thanks.” That’d be easier on his head than a backlit screen, even if he still couldn’t use it when things got bad. “So.”

“Yes?”

“You knew Tiger was Checkmate.”

“Yes.”

“What gave it away?”

“Helena’s files on the Checkmate attack on Spyral were redacted, but I put the pieces together.” Bruce leaned back in his chair. “Tim may also have hacked into Checkmate’s systems temporarily. No identifying information, but it did confirm Checkmate had an agent inside Spyral. Tiger made the most sense, given all else I know about him.”

“So you didn’t actually know for certain.”

“I was certain enough.”

Bruce had been doing this work long enough to have developed a keen instinct for his things, so Dick couldn’t say that he was entirely surprised. He often uncovered the truth long before he had enough evidence to prove it. Dick had the same instincts, though he’d never claim they were as developed as Bruce’s were.

“Okay,” Dick said. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need some indication where your head’s at.”

Bruce switched off the computer screens and swivelled the chair to face Dick properly. “I don’t like being lied to. You know that. However, these past few months have demonstrated to me that a nuclear response is not the most effective.”

“No shit.” Dick couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

“So, he was going to kill Bertinelli?”

“It wasn’t personal. And he backed off as soon as I’d resolved the situation myself.”

“By taking Daedalus into your own head and kicking him out, yes. I read your report.” Bruce actually cracked a smile. “That sounds like you.”

“Believe me, I would’ve tried it again if I’d had the strength for it.”

“Hm.” Bruce rubbed his jaw. “That is the other problem. Whether it was intended or not, he did kill Agent 8 and lie about it.”

“No, he let us lie about it for him. It might not make a difference to you, but it does to me. And he did save my life, so…”

Bruce’s frown came back. “Yes. I’m aware. That makes it more difficult.”

“He wants to change, Bruce. He’s been trying. I don’t know if he even wants to do field work anymore, but he should train with us. Cass learned better. So can he.”

“I’ll consider it. After he meets Checkmate.”

“Fine. But I’m gonna tell Cass, and she’ll hold you to it.”

Bruce chuckled. “Clever.”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“I’m aware. I trained you.” Bruce got up. “How are you feeling? Up to some training?”

“Keep the lights down and we’ll find out.” Dick had missed the exercise, and it wasn’t every day he got to train with Bruce anymore.

It probably wouldn’t be a long session, but Dick could use some endorphins. Maybe a little adrenaline wouldn’t go amiss either. Lying around anticipating his next migraine had left him with a sense of lethargy. It took everything in him not to broadcast that to the world, but it was there.

Bruce kept the lights in the training ring dim, but enough to see by. They wrapped their hands and warmed up. Dick’s joints complained a little after so much inactivity, but they loosened up as he worked them.

“Tell me about Agent 8,” Bruce said once they were warm and facing each other.

“What’s there to tell that isn’t in my reports?” Dick jabbed lightly.

Bruce dodged. “I want to hear it from you.” He jabbed back. “Everything.”

Dick blocked; it hadn’t been a powerful hit. “Well, her name was Alia. She’s—she was—from Smallville.” He hit back.

Bruce blocked him. “And yet it appears she knew little of Superman.”

“He’d probably moved to Metropolis by the time she was old enough to think about it.” Dick dodged another strike. “I’m not sure of her age. Anyway, she was Tiger’s mission partner when I arrived.” He struck, and Bruce blocked him. “I worked with them on the Old Gun mission. This was before Tiger would give me the time of day.”

“Hate at first sight?” Bruce kicked.

Dick dodged. “Funny. I made some mistakes on that mission, so Tiger had to save my ass. He was… displeased. Alia yelled at me a bit, but we still got along pretty well. If you, uh, know what I mean.”

Bruce paused, sighing. “Really, Dick?”

“You have a literal child with Talia al Ghul. Don’t judge me.”

“Hn. Point taken.” Bruce increased the pace of his jabs. Dick was still keeping up, which was nice. “So, she faked her death at the end of that mission.”

“Yeah. And then Tiger and I got partnered together, which was, uh, not ideal. Until we worked it out.” Dick tried something a little flashier, ducking under Bruce’s punch and kicking the back of his knee.

Bruce stumbled but corrected. “Good work.”

“Thanks.” Dick had to dodge another punch. “Alia was working for Dr Netz and Daedalus the whole time. She masqueraded as me and killed spies who were meant to be off-limits. Helena thought it was Tiger doing it for a while, so I may have punched him in the face and abandoned him on her orders. But then Alia lured Tiger to Italy to kill him. I got there in time but lost the fight. She was still pretending to be me, so I hadn’t quite put it all together at that point. She used a Hypnos kill switch to take me down.”

“And then Tiger led Helena to believe Checkmate was behind all this?”

“Yeah. Not sure why. I guess he let Alia go so he could try to track her movements, or maybe she manipulated his affection for her.” Dick tried for another feint, but Bruce anticipated him and hit him in the stomach. Dick backed off, bending over to suck in air.

“When do you think Daedalus possessed her?”

Dick straightened, taking one last deep breath. “After she faked her death. Less scrutiny.”

“I agree.” Bruce adjusted the bandages on his right hand. “Had enough?”

“Normally I’d say no, but…”

“Better safe than sorry.” Bruce unwrapped his bandages. “You’ll need a good cooldown.”

Dick freed his hands from the wrappings and threw them at Bruce. “Duh.”

They stretched together, massaging aches out of their muscles as they went.

“One thing I don’t understand is how Tiger went from hating you, to, well…”

“Being here?” Dick laughed. “What can I say? I’m a charmer.”

Bruce just looked at him.

“Okay, fine. I’m going to redact some details because talking about sex with you is still fucking weird, but…” Dick lay on his back in a semi-supine position and took a few breaths to get his heart rate back down. “It’s a good story. Starts with me nearly falling out of a window, to being fake-married in suburbia, to the weirdest debrief with Helena I’ve had in my life. Get comfortable.”

Bruce and Dick weren’t really the type to talk about relationships with each other, but maybe that needed to change. Dick was willing to try if Bruce was.

So Dick told his story and Bruce listened.

At the end of it, Bruce helped Dick to his feet. They’d been down here a while.

“Tiger should ask Alfred if he can help in the garden,” Bruce said.

“That’s your takeaway?”

“I have a lot of takeaways. I’m just saying Tiger could use an outlet and he seemed to enjoy gardening.”

Bruce wasn’t wrong, but…

“I never thought you’d be giving mental health advice, Bruce.”

“I’m trying new things.” Bruce clapped his shoulder. “Look. I know I’ve dragged my feet on this matter. I don’t like change.”

“Everyone knows that, B.”

Bruce frowned at him. “Respect your elders.”

“Too late.”

Bruce threw that topic away and kept going with his original point. “What I mean to say is, I trust your judgment. Tiger has been very helpful in the short time he’s been with us. I’m not going to pretend I’m comfortable with his past, but I understand I have been harsher than I needed to be.”

Dick didn’t need to say anything. He could feel his opinions beaming out from his eyes, and Bruce was able to read them.

“Yes, I know I’m stating the obvious, Dick. I’m trying to say Tiger can stay here as long as he likes.”

“Good,” Dick replied. “Because if he goes, I go.” He smiled, and knew it was the most passive-aggressive smile he’d ever given anyone in this family. “Just so we’re clear.”

“Message received. Now stop smiling like that. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna take a shower.” But Dick paused halfway up the stairs. “Oh, and you might want to tell Tiger all this. I could talk to him, but he’ll believe it more if he hears if from you. Just saying.”

“We’ll talk when there’s time,” Bruce promised. “Now go drink some water.”

Dick rolled his eyes. It hurt a bit, which wasn’t a good sign. But at least he’d accomplished something today. There were enough problems without Bruce and Tiger being at each other’s throats.

He kept walking.

“Oh, and Dick?”

He paused.

“You were right to be angry,” Bruce said, barely loud enough to hear. “I did not anticipate I would suddenly be unavailable to you while you were undercover. That was an oversight, but I have always trusted you to think for yourself. You relied on your instincts to see you through to the end. I am proud of you.”

That was nice, but the delay stung. “It would’ve been nice to hear that months ago, Bruce.”

“I know.” Bruce looked steadily at him. “I’m sorry.”

Dick had hoped, but doubted, he would ever hear Bruce say those words. A small part of him wanted to reject the apology and wallow in his anger some more, but the more mature side of him prevailed. Dick could hold a grudge with the best of them, but it never felt good.

He breathed. “Okay. Thank you.”

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine:

The Batfamily is all assembled in the Batcave working on some case, when Alfred intercoms them from up in the Manor. He says there’s a man on the phone for Master Dick, with it being a matter of some urgency. Bruce starts to ask if he’s established whether its an actual emergency or something he can take a message on, but Alfred continues...

Alfred: Err, the individual in question ensured I was aware he knew Master Dick was on the premises and available to take his call...even if I did need to patch him through to our....downstairs line, as he termed it.

Bruce: Our downstairs line? He phrased it exactly like that?

Alfred: I’m afraid so, sir. He was circumspect, no doubt in deference to our....privacy in such regards, but there was little margin for misinterpretation as to his meaning. This may come as some surprise, but I have considerable practice in the art of reading between the lines, and like to imagine myself somewhat of an expert at the craft.

Bruce: *sighs* Patch him through, Alfred. Did he give a name?

Alfred: Very good, sir. And yes, he did say Master Dick refers to him as Boone.

All eyes swivel to Dick, as Alfred transfers the call to the Batcave’s ultra encrypted top secret super hush hush line. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Dick: If I get an ulcer from the next five minutes, I’m absolutely naming it after him.

Bruce: You don’t seem surprised this person has knowledge of our identities. Why wasn’t I informed of this individual, as a potential threat of exposure?

Dick: Umm, it didn’t seem relevant?

Bruce: ....what.

Dick *shrugs*: I mean, to be honest, I mostly forgot. He’s known forever, and its not likely to ever be an issue for the same reason he’s never done anything with the knowledge before now. He’d never give our identities to someone who could potentially compromise us or harm us, because that risks someone other than him killing me before he can say he’s beaten me and proven himself better than me once and for all, and that like. Pretty much would defeat the whole point for him.

Bruce: ....I’m almost afraid to follow your logic.

Jason: I’m so happy right now.

Dick: If it helps, he’s known since like, I was eleven. So I mean, I do feel pretty confident if it was going to be an issue, he’d have made it one way before now. Hence why I....kinda just forgot. I mean, I didn’t really forget, forget, but like I said. It just didn’t seem relevant.

Bruce: ....that does not help, no.

Tim: Wait, what? Who is this guy!?

Damian: ....Grayson, did you hit your head on patrol? You’re not making any sense.

The speaker crackles to life again before anyone can press Dick for more questions.

Boone: Hello? Are you reading me loud and clear in the top secret Batcave you got there? 

Dick: Boone. What the hell do you want, and how do you even know we have a Batcave, let alone call it that? And also, what the hell do you want?

Boone: Freddy! My buddy! My pal! Long time, no ass kicking! 

Dick: Not that long. Usually you like to wait a few more months than this before ringing me up to ask for another one.

Boone: Any chance we swap this connection out for a video call? You sound irate, and that’s easily one of your top ten facial expressions. You can’t tell but I’m fanning myself just thinking about it.

Dick: I am going to kill you. It is going to hurt.

Boone: Promises, promises. You always say things like that and yet here I am, my masochistic needs still unmet....

Dick: Boone!

Boone: Freddy! Alright, unclench. No need to get your jockstrap in a bunch. I figured you had a Batcave because you obviously have to have some kind of lair on site, and your Daddy Warbucks seems too fond of his toys to fit everything in the attic, so downstairs seemed a safe space. You can relax. I’m not spying on you via a periscope sticking out of your toilets or something suitably archvillainous and cliche.

Dick: And you just happened to know its called the Batcave?

Boone: ....well on that score I mean, I have met you, and your old man does have a theme, and it wasn’t actually super hard to add two plus two and get four there. Thanks for the confirmation though. Its always nice to know I’ll still be able to make it on my brains once all this beauty begins to fade. Ah, time, that bitch. The absolute Murder Icon we all aspire to, with a body count none of us will ever match.

Dick: Did you call just to wax poetic or whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing, or is that just a treat I’ve earned with all my good karma.

Boone: Actually, funny you should say that, because I’m calling with an exciting investment opportunity that could reap you loads of karma reward points on the back end!

Dick: ....what.

Boone: I need your help. Sorry, was that not clear? I don’t have a ton of practice on that line. My profession’s not big on the whole communal effort sort of thing.

Dick: ....what.

Boone: Oh come on, don’t be like that. It can’t be that shocking to you, I mean, you’re a hero. Helping people is what you do. You have to hear that line all the time!

Dick: Yes, just usually not from mass murderers.

Boone: Oh, you damn me with faint praise.

Dick: As long as we’re clear on the damnation part.

Boone: Besides, I mostly just murder in a singular fashion, you know, as in one at a time. There’s hardly ever any mass.

Dick: Well that changes everything.

Boone *laughs*: Oh, Freddy. We do have fun. Speaking of, how about it? You wanna hop on over to the far side of the world and bail my finely curved and plushly padded ass out of the fire, before the nefarious evildoers who are after me do unseemly and deplorable things to it and also to my organs?

Dick: And here I thought nefarious evildoer was your job description. Someone’s gunning for your head and your title? Tough day you’re having, chum.

Boone: Its the world we live in, mate. Job security just ain’t what it used to be.

Dick: Not sure if that’s the world’s fault or more just something to do with your particular line of work. If only there had been someone at some point in your life who could have warned you about your profession’s usual stats on job security. Oh wait.

Boone: I know, I know. Listen, as dazzling a pairing as my pecs-tastic physique and scintillating intellect may be, I pale before your perfection, old buddy. Be a pal and try not to hold that against me, will you? Tell you what. You come help me out of this little old bind I’ve gotten myself into through no real fault of my own, and I’ll let you give me one of those judgmental stares you’re so fond of, and you can say you told me so. Actually, you know what, for a limited one time only offer, I’ll even throw in a free spanking!

Dick: You’re an idiot.

Boone: I know, who am I kidding. I’d let you put me over your knee any day. Really, its your own fault. When all your stern talk of discipline and punishment makes bad boys like me go weak in the knees and swoon, how can we possibly be expected to keep to the straight or narrow?

Dick: ....why do I get the feeling you didn’t just know I was here, but that my whole family is present and listening too?

Boone: In my defense, I distinctly recall you being the one to tell me to get a hobby, last time we tangoed in Paris.

Dick: I was talking about things to occupy your time without killing people, not inviting you to occupy your time making my life miserable. And it was Chicago, not Paris.

Boone: Well then you should have been more specific. And I know it was Chicago, you moron. Ugh. I may kill people, but you’re murder on a theme. God, you can be such a peasant sometimes.

Dick: This from the guy who....you know what? No. Stop. I’m not getting sucked into this again with you. Get to the point, Boone. Fine, you landed your ass in more trouble than even you can handle, for once. Why is this my problem, and what would possibly make you think I would help you out of a mess you made and probably more than deserve to reap the consequences of?

Boone: Because you’re a goshdarn hero, Dickie, and a better man than me, remember? And because you’re not doing it for Shrike the mercenary, you’re doing it for your old buddy Boone. That you couldn’t save from himself and will hate yourself for not saving now, if I do wind up dead and you happen to ask yourself if you could have stopped this. Which, of course, we both know you will. So should we just skip to the part where you do what we both know you’re gonna do in the end anyway, because you can’t be anyone other than who you are anymore than I can be anyone other than who I am, no matter how much either of us wants to pretend otherwise? Or do you want to dance this out a few more songs first?

Dick: Send the situation details and coordinates to the email address I gave you last time. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and if you so much as think as killing someone while I’m there, you won’t like where I drop you off.

Boone: Mmm. Fair enough. For all the perkiness of your perky parts, your taste in venues has always been shit. You can cool your jets by at least five degrees, Mister Superhero Sir. I’m in no rush to enjoy the accommodations of Bludhaven Penitentiary a second time. They didn’t even have HBO. Barbarians.

Dick: And Boone? After I do this, you and I are through. You stay out of my way from now on, and I’ll do the same. Clear?

Boone: Oh, Freddy. Tell yourself whatever you want to, but we both know that you and I won’t be through until the day one of us dies. I’ll owe you one, let’s go with that. Alright, check your email, just sent the sitch. I’ll see you when you get here, til then this booty’s gotta bounce! Ta!

The speaker hisses static as the phone disconnects. There’s awkward silence as nobody has any clue what to say and Dick very conspicuously checks his email on his phone.

Bruce: This Boone...he’s the mercenary and occasional assassin Shrike? 

Dick just nods, his shoulders tense and uncomfortable. Everybody else eyes each other warily, except for Cassandra and Tim who exchange particularly confused glances. They fought a mercenary named Shrike once, years ago, but nobody had ever said there was anything significant about him, or hinted there was any reason he and their oldest brother should have any basis for having a conversation like...whatever that just was. 

Not to mention, even Bruce sounds weird now. Like he’s just as awkward and uncomfortable as the rest of them look and feel. And Bruce only sounds uncomfortable when talking about like. Feelings and stuff. Family situations. Never cases. Never....the bad guys.

Bruce: ....he was one of the other students at Vengeance Academy, I take it.

Dick still doesn’t look up from his phone. His voice is resigned and weary. This is not a discussion he wants to have, his siblings can tell that much. Even if the rest is all just gibberish to them.

Dick: He ended up with the League after Shrike died. Trained with them for a few years, then eventually broke off to do his own thing. Called himself Shrike in honor of....our old teacher. He was. Particularly attached to him.

Bruce: ....you...kept in touch, then?

Dick barks out a startled laugh, full of too many other emotions to put a name to.

Dick: Hardly. We’ve just....run into each other over the years since then. He figured out who I was a long time ago, when he recognized my picture in some puff piece online, about you taking me in and your charity work with kids’ programs after that. And he recognized my fighting style as Nightwing, so. It was just inevitable we’d cross paths, I guess. There’s just. There’s stuff between us that never got settled, you know?

Bruce: ...I’d almost forgotten that was where you first honed your skills with your escrima sticks. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Who he was...that you’d encountered him? Since...those days.

Dick finally looks up and studies Bruce carefully. Then he looks off to the side and sighs.

Dick: Because you’d forgotten that was where I first honed certain skills. And I didn’t particularly want to remind you, I guess.

He sighs again and shakes his head as Bruce looks about to respond.

Dick: Bruce, I....look, we’ve both put a lot of years and effort into not talking about this. Seems a shame to break our streak now. Can we just....this is just something I have to do, and I kinda need it not to be anything more than that right now. It’s just. I have to go.

Bruce: ....I understand.

Dick barks out another uncharacteristic laugh, sharp and reproachful, but at who, it’d be impossible for even him to say.

Dick: I doubt that. I don’t even understand. But I appreciate you trying to, and...letting this wait for another time. Like I said. I have to go. Sorry I can’t help out more with the case. I’ll see you all later.

Damian: Grayson, don’t be absurd! You can’t go! Whoever that man was, he’s clearly manipulating you!

Dick shakes his head and laughs one more time, but here, at least, its a bit warmer, a bit closer to his usual humor. He stops to ruffle his youngest brother’s hair as he passes him, before continuing on towards where his motorcycle is parked along the main causeway to the cave’s entrance.

Dick: Trust me, kiddo, I know. He’s not even trying to be subtle. It’s so....tacky.

All too soon, his engine roars to life, and then his cycle and its passenger speed out of the cave leaving behind only shadows, echoes, and the backglow of his headlights, all of which soon die away themselves.

In their wake, all eyes turn as one to Bruce, still seated in front of the Batcomputer.

Duke: I have questions.

Jason: I have comments.

Tim: I have concerns.

Bruce sighs.

[awfully-sadistic]

Having a holly, jolly Christmas

Because it’s the best time of the year!

I don’t know if there’ll be snow,

But have a cup of cheer!

Silent Night Vector Hyllus did not know what Christmas was and even less about what it stood for. Coming from a time where the galaxy and everything that happened in it happened a very “long time ago” and “far, far away” one could argue that he didn’t have to. It wasn’t like it was celebrated in any of the planets he had known and it made less sense to try to understand it since joining the hive mind and becoming Dawn Herald for an alien race that looked like giant ants known as Killiks. It just seemed so insignificant given the race had no use for human holidays and thus, Vector remained in ignorance for a very long time as he remained as one with the hive. 

Each and every Killik were in mental contact with one another, however, far away from the hive mind now, far away from any duties where he had nearly nothing to do but learn about different cultures and customs, Vector had gotten curious. The Haushold provided so many new experiences, rich, that he thought even exploring the galaxy couldn’t prepare him for the things he had seen in the Family. He was a silent observer, noting things, taking in everything with those seemingly lifeless blackened eyes and almost stoic expression.

Right now, those black eyes were trained on Dot. She was opening a gift that had been offered to her despite sitting in a wealth of presents from others who have known her longer, more intimately.

Yet, she was opening a gift from him.

The concept of gift exchanging was not as foreign as the concept of Christmas. Killiks had their own customs but he didn’t think she’d appreciate rubbing their forearms together. Or appreciate what others had called his “bug milk”, he hadn’t wanted to make a bad impression on her.

“We had hoped you liked it.” Vector finally spoke in that peculiar way that he does; when he speaks, he speaks in a soothing tone and for the hive he has joined with. Even far away.

Dot pulled an intricately designed necklace from the box, stunned by the exotic beauty of something she knew had to come from another galaxy. There were stones on it she’s never seen before and couldn’t even begin to describe. “It’s... beautiful,” she admired, unable to take her eyes off the way the gems glittered, shifted, twinkled. It sounds like a song, almost.

“We are glad.” Vector replied. It might have sounded like an ordinary statement but the way his shoulders relaxed showed Dot he had been holding onto tension based on her reaction. “We think the sound reminds us of The Song of the Universe; more specifically, we think it reminds us of your part.”

“Song?” Dot asked, looking up in a startled expression. “My? Wait, what does that mean?”

And Vector smiled softly, anxious in his own way to talk to her about this mysterious melody that was created by all living things with a part to play. He especially wanted to share what he thought about hers.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

“Your name is Carol. How can you not know Christmas carols?”

“I’m going to give you ten seconds to get out of my face before I send you to another dimension like I did with Tony.” 

Carol Danvers and Jason Todd were staring down at each other; both with big personalities and headstrong stubbornness that could out-mule any jackass in the Haus. This wasn’t anything mean-spirited but more that everyone had a lot to drink and manners were becoming unhinged.

Unfortunately, with huge personalities and clashing egos, a lot of manners would be unhinged. It was also an interesting mix considering the Marvel side and the DC side mingled quite well with one another. Too many people were like two sides on the same coin. It was nuts but it would also take a charging rhino to break up anyone (or these two) when they got going. 

Most of the time, it would end up with Carol as the victor because... she really was incredibly stronger than Jason (or nearly anyone else for that matter). Yet Jason was as stubborn as Ripley had been during the first merging month with Atamu, trying to get the jump on him.

Dot sat in her booth staring at the two with her mouth posed around a straw. She was drinking a milkshake and there was no way she was going to be stepping into that argument.

Well, at least until Carol made the first attempt to send Jason Todd bam, pow, straight to the moon. So, she decided to step in with a harmless statement.

“What carols do you know, Jason?” she smiled around the straw as Jason’s head whipped around, searching the crowd before they settled on Dot. Immediately, he got a lazy grin on his face and it seemed like he forgot he was talking to Carol. He came strolling over, sliding into the booth next to her.

Unfortunately for him, Carol followed. She slid in on Dot’s other side, effectively trapping the girl between the two; something... she really didn’t think through despite only a few moments ago deciding not to... be in the middle of them.

“I know lots,” he boasted.

Carol wasn’t buying it. “You do, do ya? Then how come you were makin’ a big fucking stink about me singing carols?” she asked, wrapping an arm around Dot’s shoulders and tugging her onto her side (of the argument). “Why didn’t you just sing somethin’?”

Jason’s expression deadpanned; one, he knew what Carol was doing and two, who invited her?! But as Jason was going to find out, no one invited Carol. She came because she wanted to, IF she wanted to. And Dot was around so duh, of course she was here.

“JARVIS, give me a Christmas carol.” Jason stated before the A.I. asked, “And what would you like to listen to, sir?”

Carol wasn’t even trying to hide the grin splitting her face. It was apparent Jason had just expected JARVIS to just play a carol over the loud speaker. Dot was trying to be a lot more polite though, clearing her throat and glancing up at her Mommy.

“...Any... one of them,” Jason said through grit teeth.

“Yeah, but which one?” Carol asked before JARVIS could play something, thus bailing Jason out. She was giving Dot a wink, one that Jason caught and Dot giggled at. They both knew he was more or less had--Jason didn’t know a damn carol even if it bit him in the butt... or sent him into another dimension.

“SOMETHING SOMETHING, OUR LORD AND SAVIOR JESUS, DAMN.”

Carol burst out laughing and Dot found herself doing the same. JARVIS, sounding like an unappreciated Alfred sighed and played a random carol that did, in fact, talk about Jesus.

O Come All Ye Faithful

“He’s... where and doing what?” Dot asked, unbelieving but at the same time, not surprised. It was a weird combination considering she had tried to be optimistic about it and figured it would be the one time Wesker wasn’t hiding down in the lab basements missing all the festivities and mingling with Family on Christmas. He’s been with everyone for HOW long and he’s still acting like an anti-social butthead?!

Jake rubbed a hand on his closely shaven head; at least he had been in the festive mood, wearing an “ugly” sweater that matched with his younger siblings; notably Flash, Petey, and Miles. He was grinning and looking down at his Ma, before his hand dropped to his side and then back towards the general direction of the Lab entrance.

“You know how that old bastard is. It’s probably better without him, scowling at everyone. Being the Grinch while we’re all trying to have a good time.”

“He’s still part of this Family!” she said though she knew Jake wasn’t the one who needed to hear this. She sighed and reached up--which still wasn’t enough and Jake, used to the gesture, bent his large frame so that Dot could cup his cheek. “Thank you for telling me. Now I’m going to give your father a piece of my mind and you can expect him to be up here, wearing a sweater of his own.”

Jake grinned again, leaning into his Ma’s hand. “I can’t wait to see that,” he said, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm. “That’d be a merry fucking Christmas for me!”

Dot had did her best to assure Jake that Wesker wasn’t going to get away with just an ugly sweater but he was going to give each and every one he usually hassled a Christmas present--with love, and personally delivered. Even if she had to lead him by the ear to do it.

The lab doors opened to its elevator and Dot stepped in, jabbing her thumb at the console, hitting the Basement sublevels. She had her arms crossed and ready to go OFF--

But then the elevator doors opened and the scenery before her stole her breath away. The lights were dimmed as she stepped out of the elevator and hanging above her head were strings of lights with a delicate lighting setting. It cast the usually harsh fluorescent scene of the labs in a soft glow reminiscent of a snow fall during the night. Quiet, serene, personal, private.

Standing at the other end of the hallway was Wesker. By now, Dot figured she was... set up. Jake working with Wesker? Well, she never expected that. And that was probably how she was lured to the labs without a second thought about being set up and all worked up about it, too.

Now the air was let out of her balloon and she felt entirely aware of walking towards the mastermind behind.. whatever this was.

It took her a little bit to actually reach Wesker considering she was still admiring the time and effort it took to string up the lights. Sure, the servants must have done it but the thought had been no doubt Wesker’s own. When she stood in front of him, he was already staring down at her. That stupid smug grin on his face was in place and the sensation flared up to smack the glasses off his face. But he surprised her by presenting her with a small box.

Slowly, she took it, giving him a quizzical glance. “Why couldn’t you have given this to me upstairs. You know, with everyone else?” she jabbed, only half-serious. It was more so being a brat out of anything.

“That is precisely the reason,” Wesker replied with a sigh, slightly only serious himself. “there were too many people.” Dot was going to further push it by mentioning that was the point of being Family but Wesker cut her off and added, “It’s not a crime to steal a little of your time. Everyone else does it.”

Dot didn’t point out that he has, on more than one occasion, has committed crimes on securing some quality time well spent with Dot but dropped it as soon as the lid to the box had been pulled off. She wasn’t aware that Wesker had placed his hands over hers, helping her open her present in an attempt to steer her attention away from scolding him or otherwise giving him a “hard” time. Hardly a hard time; he loved their little verbal spars. It kept him sharp and on his toes--but he didn’t want to sully this, their, moment with something like that. He wanted to show her that she was special.

“...This is...” 

“Mm hm. It is.”

Dot laughed a little, staring down at the gigantic heart shaped diamond. “...You’re surprisingly sentimental.”

Wesker made a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat. He looked a little uncomfortable, perhaps having to share more than a thimble of emotion. But he managed to do it because Dot was worth much more than that and she had the right to know and had all his attempts on ...opening up. Despite how hard it was for someone like Wesker to. 

“Only with the right person.” Wesker replied, “and you are the right person.” He enclosed the giant jewel in Dot’s tiny little hand. It didn’t even fit but it felt like a good example of how his heart was held in her small hand. It might be a little cold and harder than any precious metal on earth but it was precious to her and she would keep it safe.

[* I’m sorry there’s not a lot! I wrote until I had to sleep for tomorrow and this was all I managed to get done! @.@;  ]