#thread: morning after with nightwing

[personae-obscura]

@dgraysonafterdark continued from [x]

"Much better than my previous visit~" She replied, a slight purr to her words as she focused on the breakfast.

Last visit had been terrifying. A nasty scare where she'd almost been lured to... honestly she wasn't sure what the intended result was going to be but it sire wasn't what she had been booked for. And then upon spontaneously visiting her boyfriend, she'd discovered he was the vigilante Nightwing. That... she'd needed a solid week to process that. It had taken a lot of thinking to figure out just where she stood on the matter because of course she supported heroes and vigilantes. They really helped when the actual police couldn't or wouldn't. It had taken a lot of pacing and mumbling to herself to talk through the parts that were bothering and scaring her.

There are absolutely aspects that still bother and scare her but she's at least acknowledged where she stands on the matter. And Dick's been good to her. Serious enough that he's met her parents. For now, she's happy to stay.

"I take it you like seein' your shirt on me~?" She asked, purposefully ignoring the fact that she was wearing lingerie in his colour too. He had to have figured that out already, he's smart and observant.

[flwrkid14]

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy

It started as a slow, creeping suspicion. A few throwaway comments here, a couple of odd interactions there. At first, no one thought much of it.

One day, Dick was grabbing coffee near Wayne Enterprises when he overheard two interns chatting in line. “I saw Tim Drake today, and let me tell you, I think I’ve developed a new celebrity crush,” one of them said, giggling.

Dick nearly choked on his iced latte. Tim? Celebrity crush? He shook it off, chalking it up to the occasional corporate crush, nothing out of the ordinary for someone who runs a massive company. But then he heard it again the next week at a Titan’s briefing. Garfield leaned over to him during a meeting, nodding toward Tim across the room.

“Man, Tim’s really come into his own, huh? Guy’s kinda a looker now,” Gar commented.

Dick blinked, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, come on, Nightwing,” Gar teased, “you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed! The quiet broody thing is working for him. I bet half of Gotham has a crush on him.”

By the time Dick got back to Gotham, the gears were turning in his head. Did half of Gotham have a crush on Tim?

Then it happened again. This time it was Damian’s turn.

He had been sparring with Jon in the Batcave, when their conversation drifted, as it often did. “You ever think about what it would be like to date someone like Tim?” Jon asked, completely out of the blue.

Damian froze, mid-punch. “What?”

“I mean, he’s smart, right? Responsible, kinda low-key. Would probably make a great boyfriend,” Jon continued, completely oblivious to the growing horror on Damian’s face.

“Grayson and Todd, are enough. I refuse to let another sibling of mine become Gotham’s romantic fascination!” Damian exclaimed later that night at the dinner table. The others laughed, assuming Damian was just being overly dramatic, as usual.

But the seed had been planted.

It didn’t take long for the other Batfamily members to start picking up on the signs.

Steph first noticed when she logged onto a Wayne Enterprises fan forum (because yes, those exist) and saw a thread that was simply titled, “Tim Drake’s Glow-Up Appreciation Post”. The page was filled with comments fawning over him—talking about his “sharp jawline,” his “dark, mysterious aura,” and how “charming” he was during interviews.

Naturally, Steph sent the link to Cass with a laughing emoji. “Look at our boy, growing up into Gotham’s next heartbreaker,” she joked.

But as more and more of these comments popped up in the oddest places, Steph’s joking tone faded. Was Tim really the next heartthrob?

The realization hit Jason last, as most things concerning Tim usually did. He was scrolling through his usual online haunts, browsing forums that discussed Gotham’s vigilantes, when he stumbled on something unusual.

A post titled: Top 10 Reasons Why Red Robin is the Best Looking Vigilante in Gotham.

Jason almost clicked out of it immediately, assuming it was some kind of joke. But no. There were paragraphs. Analysis. Photos that somehow made Tim look like a damn model, even in his ridiculous Red Robin cape.

Jason scrolled through in disbelief, not sure what he was more stunned by: the fact that people were thirsting after Tim, or that someone had gone to this much effort to explain why he was hot.

“That’s it. The internet is officially broken,” Jason muttered to himself, before sending a screenshot to the family group chat with the caption: Since when did Tim become a fashion icon?

The real kicker, though, was Alfred. After weeks of the Batfamily casually throwing around jokes about Tim’s newly discovered “status,” Alfred finally made his observation one morning over breakfast.

“Master Timothy has always had a certain quiet charm about him,” Alfred said as he served coffee, completely unbothered by the ensuing chaos.

Dick, nearly spilling his coffee: “Wait, you knew about this? Why didn’t you say something?”

Alfred raised a brow. “It hardly seemed necessary. I assumed you all were already aware of Master Timothy’s appeal.”

Appeal. Appeal.

Jason was laughing so hard he had to leave the room, while Steph and Cass exchanged glances that said everything: they needed to re-evaluate everything about their little brother.

The whole Batfamily was still coming to terms with it. They joked, they teased, but there was an undeniable shift. When they looked at Tim now, they saw what others had apparently been seeing for years—a quietly confident, strikingly intelligent young man who had somehow grown into one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors.

Of course, the moment that really sealed the deal came when Tim rode into the Batcave one evening on his Red Bird bike, wearing hastily thrown on stylish outfit—a black leather jacket, perfectly fitted jeans, and a shirt that gave him a casual, yet effortlessly cool look. Running a hand through his still damp hair, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“Sorry, I’m running late. Got a date.”

For a moment, the Batfamily just stared.

Holy. Shit.

And then, as if on cue, Dick, Steph, Cass, Duke, Jason, and even Damian had the same thought at the same time: Oh my God, Tim Drake is the Batfamily’s biggest heartthrob.

The realization was almost too much to handle.

[johnsjackolantern4902]

Scarecrows reacting to the reader being uncontrollably loud

BTAS from his first episode specifically

He is very cocky about it. You have to kiss him or stuff something in his mouth to get him to shut up.

BTAS

He has to slow down or he's gonna cum too quickly. Seeing you break into nothing but a moaning and shaking mess is making him start to break too. His legs are getting wobbly and he's starting to moan too.

TNBA

Same as BTAS, but it's too damn good to slow down. He tries to hold it back for you, but can't for too long. He also gets really loud without thinking and gets embarrassed about it afterwards.

Salecrow

This man goes full dom on you. He's primitive and possessive af. He is not afraid to also make lots of sounds and he definitely does.

Yellow Lantern

He's cursing you for being so damn hot. He's trying his best not to cum too quick but you're really not making it easy and he jokingly gives you shit for it.

Mof

Confidence boost. For once he feels comfortable in his own skin and not as the Scarecrow. Get ready for his soul to leave his body because the amount of cum that is gonna come out of that man is unreal. Seriously, I hope you have sheet/mattress protection because towels are not gonna cut it.

Arkham Asylum

Oho. Ohohoho. He is LIVING for this. He's all over you. He's taking on the dom role and pretending he has everything under control when in reality, he is mentally fighting for his life not to cum in you too soon. He's not afraid to moan back.

Arkham Knight

Pretty much the same as AA Jon, but he's also fighting to keep going for you despite how tired he's getting and also possibly in pain, but he'll try to hide it. Despite the discomfort, he's also really enjoying it and is too stubborn to stop. He's mainly laser focused on what he's doing, but he does let out the occasional blissful moan in response to sensitive touches. He's a bit of a rougher dom than AA when it comes to physicality, but his words can be as praising or harsh as you want. He knows EXACTLY how to get what he wants out of people after all. Please let him rest for like a year after the session, he can barely move. Also definetly massage his leg and/or foot if he was using his legs. Maybe his back too, especially his lower back and hips. He is not getting off that bed no matter how much he wants to until at least the next morning.

Legends of the Dark Knight

He gets way too excited, goes as fast as he can without thinking and cums almost instantly. You have to train him to be a good boy and wait.

As the Crow Flies

He gets flustered. He starts off by worrying that you might be heard, but ends up way too turned on to care and starts making sounds himself.

Scarebeast

Gets insanely primitive and possessive, you NEED a safe word. Seriously, he loses all concept of how big he is compared to you, which can be very dangerous.

Nightwing

He's very cocky about it, trying to hide how tired he's actually getting (old man stamina).

Man Bat

He is very cocky and does NOT shut up unless you keep his mouth busy.

Catwoman

He's also super cocky, but breaks out into a moaning mess easily if you make the right moves.

Kings of Fear

He tries to act like a dom, but if you so much as look him in the eyes, he breaks too.

Harley Quinn comics

He either gets too tired to keep going or loses control and cums too early.

HQAS

He can't, he breaks too. He's barely keeping it together enough to not cum instantly, but he's hanging on by a thread and he is not gonna last.

Fear State

This man has not slept since the dawn of time. It would take a miracle for him to not need at least one break during the session. Other than that, he loves it. If you're open to overstimulation, he totally does it since the usual reaction is similar to panicking.

No Man's Land

He cums in abundance the second he processes what's happening. He too needs good boy training.

Year One

Laser focused. He's struggling not to let himself go apeshit on you and pound you into the ground until he cums. Luckily he's good at self control, but you very much see that the urge is there. He doesn't have the focus to talk to you, he's way too focused on: keeping you in this state and making you cum (if you can), not doing anything that might cross your boundaries, and not cumming right away.

Knight Terrors

Oh he's teasing you about it. If you try to muffle your sounds or hide your face, it's even better. If you let him, he'll even strip you of your attempts to hide yourself so you're fully vulnerable to him.

[alyrewrites]

rest now in my arms (as I watch over you)

“Like he knew the sun would come up the next morning, Dick knew that Batman would always get back up, that nothing could keep him down. It didn’t matter what came at him -- loss of loved ones, false murder accusations, having his back broken, getting lost in time -- none of that had ever stopped him before. But there was no miracle coming this time, Bruce was going to die and Dick would lose another parent.” For Whumptober 2024 Day 20 - Emotional Angst/Giving Permission to Die

This is wrong. That was the thought that kept going through Dick’s mind. Bruce had always been a strong and imposing figure in Dick’s life. Even after he had grown into Nightwing and worked and led heroes with a variety of powers, Dick found that Batman had a gravitas that no other hero seemed to have. He was a rock for Dick. Like he knew the sun would come up the next morning, Dick knew that Batman would always get back up, that nothing could keep him down. It didn’t matter what came at him -- loss of loved ones, false murder accusations, having his back broken, getting lost in time -- none of that had ever stopped him before. So seeing him lying in a medical bed, barely hanging on to a fraying thread of life, was antithetical to everything Dick knew and just assaulted his senses with a sense of wrongness.

Alfred sat at Bruce’s bedside and, in a rare breach of his butler facade, was running a hand through Bruce’s hair. It was one of the few times Dick had ever seen Alfred act like the surrogate father that Bruce viewed him as and all it did was drive home the fact that Bruce was dying. There wasn’t any coming back from this. Bruce had lost a massive amount of blood by the time the Justice League were able to get him to medical, but not enough that he couldn’t recover. However, nearly every one of Bruce’s organs were either failing or on the cusp of it and were impossible to treat without putting Bruce under, an action which would almost certainly kill him. There was no miracle coming this time, Bruce was going to die and Dick would lose another parent.

Bruce kept asking about them, needing to know if they were okay, if his children were safe. Alfred and Dick kept reassuring him that they were, that he needed to focus on himself, but Bruce wouldn’t believe them until he saw his children himself. So Dick stepped out and sent out an emergency comm to all of them telling them that they needed to get to the Watchtower now. Something in Dick’s voice must have been telling because Jason only put up token protest before agreeing to come.

It was only about 15 minutes between when Dick made the call and when the Zeta tubes announced the arrival of his siblings, but, to Dick, it felt like an eternity. He just kept watching Bruce’s chest take in shallow, uneven breaths, afraid of the moment when he would see it stop, but also hating the amount of pain every breath clearly gave Bruce. Normally, someone in Bruce’s condition would have been given morphine to give them a painless passing, but Bruce was aware enough to refuse any pain relief, as he usually did, but this time, neither Dick nor Alfred had the strength to ignore his wishes this time. It was selfish, Dick knew that, but he wasn’t ready to lose his dad yet.

Clark and Diana had informed his siblings of the situation before they entered Bruce’s room, but even with the warning, Dick could see how the sight of Bruce weakly hanging onto life affected them.

“We’re all here Bruce, see? We’re all fine,” Dick said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Bruce blinked. His gaze, normally so sharp and clear, was unfocused even as he seemed to try and look at them each individually.

“It seems I can’t see very far right now, chum. Come closer so I can see your face.” His tone was completely different from earlier when he was speaking with the doctors earlier and refusing his pain medicine. It was much softer with a desperate, pleading undertone. Dick had wondered if Bruce had been aware exactly of the situation, but he should have known better. Of course Bruce did, he just refused to lower his guard around anyone. Normally, his children were included in that, but it seemed that his impending death was what was needed to take down that emotional wall.

Damian wasted no time responding to his father’s request and approaching the bed with Dick, Jason, Tim, and Cass just behind. Alfred didn’t remove his hand from Bruce’s hair and step out like he often did when . Bruce raised a shaking arm to cradle his youngest’s face. He tried to remove Damian’s mask but couldn’t seem to muster the strength to manage it.

“Let me see your faces. Please.”

Each of them removed their masks.

“See, B, we’re all here and we’re all fine. So quit worrying about us,”

“I can’t. You’re my children.” The way he was looking at them made Dick want to rage. It made him want to cry. Bruce was always so emotionally stunted and held himself back so much. He hadn’t looked at Dick like that since Jason died, with so much love and pride that it was like looking straight into the sun.

Bruce took another painful, rattling breath. “I’m so proud of you. So, so proud of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t… I didn’t say that more often. You deserved better than me, but I’m so glad… so glad that you came into my life anyways. I was so lucky to get to be your father and your partner.”

Dick felt a hot pressure build up behind his eyes. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to have his last view of his father living to be distorted through tears.

“You are all so much better than me… so much better than Batman. Please, promise me, you’ll let Batman die with me. Let that darkness die with me. I never wanted any of you to have to…to have to carry that.”

“We won’t need to if you just pull yourself together father,” Damian said, “You just need to recover and then none of us will need to take your mantle,”

Bruce smiled weakly at Damian before turning back to Jason, Tim, and Dick. “Promise me. I don’t want… I don’t want you to fight each other again. You need to stick together, take care of each other. Promise me you won’t let Batman come in the way of that.”

“You don’t control me, asshole,” Jason snarled, “If you don’t want me taking the suit again, you’re gonna have to make sure the suit isn’t empty for me to take.”

Bruce looked at Jason sadly. “Jaylad.”

Jason scoffed wetly. “Fine.”

“I-I promise, Bruce,” Tim said, “So just stop talking like you’re going to die. I’m sure Clark will find something in his Fortress soon and you’ll be fine. So please, please don’t die, dad.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.” Bruce squeezed Tim’s hand weakly.

Dick wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage at Bruce. He wanted to tell him that he never wanted to touch the Batsuit again. He wanted to tell him that he wasn’t ready to lose him. He wanted to tell him that he still needed his dad. But he didn’t. Instead, Dick swallowed the lump in his throat and put on a small, strained smile.

“Don’t worry, dad, we’ll- we’ll be okay. We’ll take care of each other. You don’t have to worry about us. You can rest now,”

Dick could hear his siblings echo the sentiment in their own ways, but his attention was completely focused on Bruce. He watched as his dad looked to Alfred - looked to his dad - for confirmation

“It’s alright Bruce,” Alfred said, tears in his eyes, “I will watch over the family. You can rest now, son. You can let go.”

Dick watched as Bruce’s eyes closed and, for the first time, his entire body relaxed. The permanent tension that he seemed to carry finally released along with his last rattling breath. Bruce’s chest was still. The heart rate monitor showed a flat line and with the other monitors showing numbers that led to the same conclusion. Yet, Dick still couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He grabbed Bruce’s wrist and placed his fingers over the pulse point and waited.

Nothing. No warmth, no reassuring squeeze like Bruce used to do when Dick made him hold his hand as a child. Nothing at all. Bruce had lost a lot of blood already though, so maybe it was just that there wasn’t enough blood going to his extremities for Dick to find a pulse (he knew he was lying to himself, but the fact that none of his siblings stopped him was telling). He reached across Bruce’s corpse body to check the pulse point on his neck. He felt nothing, but he kept waiting, certain that he would feel something eventually. He just had put his hand in the wrong spot, just missed the artery. He adjusted his hand again and again, trying over and over again to deny the reality that was in front of him. Eventually, someone grabbed his hand to stop him. Dick found himself being gently guided into a hug by Alfred.

He sobbed.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

I enjoy the off topic! I am back after a nap and some readings!

I went with BiB first, cause I am well aware of my Jason Todd hyperfixation, and it must be constantly fed like a ravenous beast.

Highly enthused by Dick's reaction to seeing Jason basically being "Hello again you absolute nightmare"

I honestly think Brothers in Blood had great characterization for Jason! He's got a serious pattern of attempting to reach out to people through combat (Bruce, Mia, Tim). It makes perfect sense to me that him attempting to reach out in a friendly way would also involve stabbing, just with more smiles and jokes and "hey, it'd be really cool if we teamed up right??"

My boy is trying his best, he's just also a complete fucking mess. He's heard that his big brother killed someone and killing people has been THE rift that has kept the people he loves from being his family again...

I can't help but conclude this is for realsies hope on Jason's part. I think the ending message he leaves Dick with is totally sincere

(Quick side note cause I've been giggling about it all morning: is this a fuckin TELEGRAM?! Did he write a letter and instead of periods wrote in all caps STOP to simulate a telegram?? Why does one of the sentences randomly have a period instead of a STOP??? Wild shit, I do love it.)

Heartbreaking in a great way watching Dick churn through whether or not he even wanted to save Jason, knowing he's a general menace to society, in reflection to that hope Jason had of being joined in his killing is okay mission against crime.

Ya'know, this has me thinking that Jason's reaction to him having killed Blockbuster might be a reason that Nightwing would never ever let him know about having killed the Joker in Last Laugh. Having someone be super excited and happy about something you feel gut wrenchingly guilty about... I don't even know how one would start to process that. He'd have no capacity to give the pain Dick felt over it space or respect. The impact and the meaning would just be too different for them.

Anyhow, I def see why this is your JayDick bible! This was a very good recommendation!

Also I am laughing my ass off about all Dick's friends scaring the poor newlywed with their comments

While poor Dick broods about it. (Also the pink accented lapels? Good shit.)

I see what you mean about him being serious, he's got humor in him, he's got wit, but like he is down to brass tacks immediately, all business. He's gettin shit done! A pretty intense dude, and also like astonishingly miserable tbh, the amount of wringers he's been through is impressive. He also seems to more and more yeah just throw himself into the work to get away from all the messes that have piled up in his mind.

Also, even like massively jumping around in the comics while speed reading, I have to agree that it seems like a real shame they Chemo-ed Bludhaven like that, especially when he's reflecting on just having made something of it, like

The continuation of the push and pull of all those different factions as Nightwing balanced them could have been a really cool thing to see, and honestly a bit of a unique feeling status quo to build off of!

Ah well, ashes to ashes, radioactive dust to radioactive dust, interesting plotlines to shreds of plot threads.

So, I'm writing a long fanfic based around the characterizations of the various Bats in the 80s-00s time frame, and Nightwing is gonna be important but I don't have a good grasp of his personality yet. I'm currently reading through The Resurrection of Ras Al Ghul, but that and a few of the 2016 issues are all I've got to go off of right now.

Do you have any comics you'd recommend for getting a good grasp of his personality and general vibes?

I'd also be happy to read any kind of ramble about his personality/appeal you feel like writing. Having read your fanfiction I feel like (sincere compliment:) you are the exact kind of unhinged I want to get character opinions from.

(Also you mentioned Dick being in the mob which sounds Very Fun and I wanna know what titles so I can read that)

-redhoodinternaldialectical on anon cause sideblog

ok first of all. im flattered. i feel so powerful rn.

and second of all... my 'to read' list is embarrassingly long, and dick's been around and in a lot of comics so i have a lot of trouble keeping up ;-; but i will try my best!!

The New Teen Titans gets recommended a lot as a starting point for Dick as Nightwing, and while i havent read much of it, the stuff i have read has been pretty solid and i get why its so popular.

Nightwing 1996 is my personal go to comic for Dick, mainly bc it was his first real solo run. (it's often listed as "volume 2" of nightwing, but volume 1 aka Nightwing 1995 was really more of a test drive just to see if they should make a Nightwing solo series) It's also where Dick joins the mob! although that came off the tail end of a lot of different plot points.

(This is a bit unrelated, but in general I think knowing a bit of irl context to certain comic events is important. Like, at one point Bludhaven is nuked off the map. It doesn't make sense, and it was most likely due to some higher up DC nonsense. And Nightwing 1996's second annual is written by a man. etc etc.)

... I actually have a guide I've been working on, main reasons being quick reference for what happens where, and that writing these things down helps me remember them better

as you can probably tell, I still have a ways to go. looking at this now i'm starting to realize that i am really down bad for him lol

Mobbed Up (where Dick gets adopted by a random mob boss who took one look at his depressed mug as he was getting fired from the police force and said "new son?") is issues #107-111

I feel like I should get back to character thoughts.

Dick on his own is deeply serious, he has a job to do and it's incredibly important that he does it right. In the beginning this serves as an invaluable asset, but as he loses more people it starts to turn into more destructive. A trait that is morphed by his traumas into obsessiveness.

Dick when Tim comes to visit (or just when he's around people he cares about) is a bit softer, it's subtle, but it shows that he's aware of/cares for the people around him.

Dick with Bruce around seems to worry so much about proving himself, about being seen as a respectable peer, that it backfires into making him come off more insecure and as a bit of a "rebellious teen". (which is exactly what he's trying to avoid when he strikes out on his own) I've read various arcs and issues but I haven't actually read any focused on Dick and Bruce aside from the ones towards the beginning, so I'm sure their relationship must change, but this is how they were when Dick had first moved to Blud.

I feel like Bludhaven is also important to talk about. It's very much meant to be "Gotham, but worse". It's a place that even Batman wouldn't bother with, a place beyond saving. I'm... kind of breaking my own heart, thinking about how much Dick put into this city, only to. To fail? In a sense? A hero's home city isn't usually obliterated like that. The only other example that comes to mind is Hal Jordan's, and Hal literally went insane and became a space terrorist to bring it back. Dick is just... forced to move on.

And Dick goes back to NYC. Nightwing patrolling Gotham with any regularity feels very modern. He shows up when there's a major event and DC wants to capitalize on having a bunch of names in the same series, and he shows up when something drastic changes (like a new robin, or a death). Dick has however spent a lot of time in NYC, either because of the Titans or because. yknow. home go boom.

Anyways. Arc recs. Unironically I need you to read Brothers in Blood. Get past the initial gross out factor of Tentatodd and it's a great look at Jason and Dick's relationship. This is #118-124 and right after Bludhaven gets nuked. Dick has just experienced the lowest lows that one could low. Jason seems to know all about it, and tries to help in the worst way possible. Jason is right and blunt and convoluted and so so insecure about where he stands with Dick. Dick doesn't know where he stands with Jason either, on account of all the murder, and his tactless approach to trying to confront Dick on the copious amounts of trauma that Dick is dealing with. BiB is my Jaydick bible.

I'd also say to just give the first few arcs a shot. Beginnings are meant for introductions! It gives a good sense of who Dick is, why he's here, and what his goals are. Exposition baby! And I'm once again thinking about how ultimately Dick kind of fails said goals. I love him but he makes me so emo. Blockbuster has also been his main villain since the beginning, up until. Yknow. He became deader than his namesake. There's also a few fear toxin based issues that are good for. well. understanding what his fears are. There's also a fear toxin scene in Batman: Orphans, but i'll just reblog the post i made of it so u don't have to read that one. The art is fun, the story is weird and just kinda. meh.

#60 is when Dick joins the force. The beginning of the end, so to speak, but we don't meet Catalina until #71.

#93 is That Issue. The infamous rape scene. The thing about his time with Catalina is that it was almost definitely meant to be explored for what it was- an abusive relationship. But DC wanted Nightwing in an event. It doesn't have any satisfactory end, Bruce (DC) calls Dick to fight in Gotham. He does. His story falls to the wayside for the bigger title. The worst thing that can happen to a DC character IMO is getting a Batman crossover. There was supposed to be an entire arc dedicated to what would happen to Dick in this abusive relationship. But we got 2 issues. And War Games. It pisses me off to absolutely no end. DC needed more mouths to kiss the ground that Batman walks on. They don't give a damn about the stories that exist outside their cash cow.

After all that, eventually Dick is back to his utterly depressing life. He joins the mob, finds a family, bad things happen to said family. (Mobbed Up, #107-111) He wants to protect the daughter, Sophia Tevis, and then Slade holds Sophia hostage to get Dick to teach his daughter Rose how to fight. He does, but he also teaches Rose how to question authority (aka her dad). Slade is not happy about that, and nukes Bludhaven. (Renegade, #112-117) See my earlier note about IRL reasons for dumbass plot points.

Nightwing 1996 has 2 annual issues (despite running for much longer than 2 years). The first annual is a fun murder mystery and i think a good look into how Dick handles relationships. He also reads as very aromantic/demiromantic who doesn't know it yet, but maybe that's just me, lol. the second annual is dog shit. Mark Andreyko can get bent, it sucked total ass and isn't worth reading.

[karlyanalora]

There’s no medic to call for when you’re a spy. You just had to do it yourself. Alfred bit down on his jacket and yanked his shoulder back into place with a sickening pop and blinding agony. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, plastered a smile on his face, and waltzed back into the lion’s den.

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

Bruce learned to bandage his own bloody knuckles at the tender age of eight and a half. Alfred wouldn’t let him get them in training, but Bruce sure got them picking fights at school. His tolerance for bullies had vanished with the death of his parents, especially when the older boys picked on young Molly Jenkins. She’d never been the same since her best friend was killed in front of her during a mugging last year. She was skittish now, jumping at any sound that mildly resembled a gunshot, and was prone to tears. The boys thought it was funny; Bruce did not and he cut his knuckles on their teeth.

After the fifth fight, the nurse stopped tending to him first. He had to admit he had the poor woman overwhelmed today. So he found the bandages and did his best to apply them himself. They stuck to the scabs and at home Alfred had to tear them off, though the process was made a bit easier with the use of salt water. He then taught Bruce how to do it properly next time and decided to tutor him at home.

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

Falling off the R-Cycle was not fun and when you didn’t wear pants meant a bad case of road rash. But Alfred was always there to treat it. But that wasn’t the case anymore, was it? Falling off a motorcycle as Nightwing meant a much more manageable road rash that could be easily treated at his apartment, but Dick could still feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. It made him homesick, yet another reminder that he was alone as he picked the rocks out of his skin.

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

Giving yourself stitches was almost a rite of passage in the Batfamily. It’s an important skill, almost second nature, and for some whacked-up reason, Jason finds it soothing. Maybe it’s because in the back of his mind he can hear Bruce’s deep voice walking him through the steps and Alfred’s “Well done, Master Jason” when he ties the knot. Or maybe it’s the fact is that if all it takes is stitches, the wound can’t be that bad. Most of the time Jason just handles it out in the field and goes on with the rest of his day.

That hadn’t been the case when he first became Robin. He’d been much more fond of the superglue method, content to stay as far away from needles as he could. But Alfred had placed a grounding hand on his shoulder as Bruce stitched up his gashed leg, gently explaining everything he was doing.

According to Dick, that Bruce had died with Jason. The light of gentleness had gone out and he had never returned to the man who was good with kids and called you “chum” and “lad.” Just another reason Jason was a mistake and his coming home wouldn’t fix that.

And yet Batman still wouldn’t kill the Joker.

Jason cut the thread with his teeth and went back to work.

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

Tim had the Mayo Clinic pulled up on his computer and his poor blistered feet sprawled out in front of him. He’d washed his hands and feet already. He’d nabbed one of his mother’s sewing needles, which was probably an antique since she didn’t sew, and cleaned it with rubbing alcohol. He swabbed the blister with rubbing alcohol as well since their first aid kit didn’t have any iodine. He winced as he pricked the blister near the edge and watched as the liquid oozed out. Already it felt better. He put on some Vaseline and covered it with a bandaid before moving on to the next one. He had school in the morning and he didn’t want his parents to ask why he was limping. If they even noticed.

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

Cass washed her arm in the river before wrapping an old shirt around it. She’d gotten caught on some barbed wire while out scavenging for food. She would need to find some soap to keep it clean or some of the other things her father had used to treat her training wounds. But this would have to do for now. The air was growing colder every day; wounds she knew how to treat, but how to survive on her own was something new. Her stomach growled as she pulled the knotted sleeves tight and set out once more.

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

Steph hissed as she gently prodded the giant goose egg that was forming on the side of her head. Stupid Dad. Stupid Steph too; she should have known he was in a bad mood. And with Mom out of commission at the moment, Steph was on her own. She popped down a couple of Ibuprofen and waited for Dad and his “friends” to clear out so she could grab a bag of frozen peas. For now, she wondered how to cover up her newfound lump in time for school tomorrow. Makeup for the bruising and a hat maybe?

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

Damian had always tended to all his own wounds. Supplies and demonstrations were provided, but that was all. But this scratch, a mere skinned knee, was nothing.

“Grayson, this is ridiculous.”

“I repeat: do you want a Superman, Wonder Woman, or Flash band-aid?”

“I can handle this myself.”

“Yeah, but being part of a family means you don’t have to.”

[butwhyduh]

Can you write something with Cassandra Cain/ Black Bat and the prompt ‘sexy training/sparring’ with supersis!reader?

Ooooo Interesting idea.

Warning: suggestive but no smut

Another complete mission done and the post mission meeting was coming to a close and you just wanted to take your shower and go to bed. Nightwing finally nodded and you started walking up to your room along with everyone else.

“Hey, can I talk to you,” he asked and you turned around. The others filed out around you.

“You were reckless. You could have gotten hurt today-“

“I don’t have a scratch on me-“

“And if they had Kryptonite or magic, you’d be dead,” he finished his sentence. “You need training before I let you go back out in the field. You’ll get someone hurt. Mandatory remedial training starts tomorrow.”

“Wing- really?” You protested.

“Yep! And I have just the person to punch you into shape,” Dick said with a positivity that was purposefully annoying.

“Who?”

“Black Bat,” he said while leaving the room.

“… Black Bat?” You mumbled after he left. So you’d worked with her a few times. She’s an insanely good fighter and her outfit is super scary. And you might have a tiny huge crush on her.

The next morning you were surprisingly nervous. Was it the fact that your heart beat a little faster when you thought of spending all day with her? Maybe. Was it genuine worry that she might find a way to actually hurt you? Maybe. We’re you gonna get your ass beat? Absolutely.

Cassandra and Dick walked in together and he rubbed his hands together happily. She was wearing black Lycra clothing and no mask. Her black hair was chin length and brushed back from her forehead.

“Okay so Cass is gonna train you with some defensive and offensive maneuvers but first we just want you to spar. No powers from you,” he looked at you. “No speed, no flight, and definitely no super strength. Cassandra is still a regular human. Even though she kicks everyone’s butt,” Dick said in a false whisper. Cass had a small smile.

“I’m not worried,” she said and her smile grew. You smiled nervously. You were gonna die.

“Alright, let’s spar,” Dick said.

“Okay,” you squeaked out.

Cass got in a fighting pose and you held your hands up. She immediately swept your legs from beneath you and you landed on the mat solidly. You tried to jump back up but a kick to the side had to landing on the ground again with a small oof of air puffing from your chest and if actually hurt. That was a new sensation.

“You are.. durable,” she said conversationally as she danced around you and you barely dogged most of her punches.

“Uh yeah, part Kryptonian,” you answered and another kick landed on your ribs and you were wincing in pain. How was she actually hurting you?

“That kick would have killed anyone else and she barely reacted,” she told Dick. He nodded. “But she is not trained to fight. Only strong enough to be hit,” Cass added.

“I’m right here,” you protested. “Wait, killed??”

She kicked your legs from beneath you and you landed bodily on the ground. Cass quickly wrapped her legs around your arm and shoulder in a hold and pulled. It didn’t quite hurt but you weren’t able to move either.

“Do you tap out,” Dick asked and you kinda pulled your arm for Cass to go along with it. You tried to sit up and was rewarded with a kick to the same spot on your side as before. It dropped you back to the floor.

“… yeah,” you groaned. She immediately let go and got back in a standing position. You rolled to your feet slowly.

“No super strength,” Cass reminded you.

“Again? You beat me easily,” you said.

“Make it less easy,” she smiled widely and your heart pounded in your chest at the sight, even though it meant she was going to beat you up again.

Dick’s phone went off and he walked to the edge of the room to answer. You took the break to grab some water. You weren’t tired exactly but it was something to do. He came back with an apologetic look.

“I’ve got to go. But you two keep it up. Cass knows what she’s doing. Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay. We’re having fun,” she said.

“We are?” You said surprised.

“Yes, I don’t have to hold back.”

“Great,” Dick said as he left the room and you up Cassandra’s mercy. Your nerves went sky high. You were way too attracted to her to act normal in this situation.

She stood back in a fighting pose and motioned for you to attack her. You gave a punch far from full strength and before you could blink, she had hit you twice in the ribs with the side of her hand and pulled your hand behind your back and upwards.

“Don’t leave yourself open. Hands up,” she commented while releasing your hand. You nodded.

You started again with a punch and this time you blocked one hit but she kneed you in the stomach instead and you groaned. How hard could she hit?? She knew what areas to hit. You tried to punch her and she knocked your legs from beneath you and you hit the mat again, this time on your back.

Cass straddled your waist and started hurling you with a barrage of punches that you could barely dodge. You tried to hit back only to have her tie your wrists with a rope you hadn’t even seen her grab from some pocket. She was lightning fast. You pulled at them before stopping when you realized you couldn’t use your super strength in the fight.

“Do you tap out,” she asked and you could only stare at her. Holy shit you were too gay for this. Way too gay. She was straddling your waist ffs.

One of those things that wasn’t public knowledge was her increased abilities to read body language. Cass studied you and the way you moved and looked at her and it didn’t take much to learn what was on your mind.

She increased the pressure by pulling your wrists. You gasped. “Do you tap out?” Cass repeated, looming over you.

“I- uhh,” you stuttered. Your mind was gone. Smoke. A pretty girl was on top of you.

“Why are you… flustered,” she asked. She was staring at you like a detective. Was she bending closer? Her heartbeat wasn’t louder, you realized. But that didn’t mean much to a bat who probably trained that away.

“Well- you’re, I mean,” you stuttered again. She was definitely bending down towards you and you froze. Cass bent by your ear and your skin tingled at her breath.

“You find me distracting,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question. “You often watch me train.” She ran her teeth along the edge of your earlobe and you loudly inhaled. Your hand wrapped around one of her wrists lightly as best it could. Cass turned her head and you couldn’t help but look down at her lips.

“You’re brash. And reckless,” she stated and you gulped. She looked your face over before continuing. “But you have a kind heart.”

You turned your face to better accommodate a kiss if she wished. Hopeful but certainly not expectant.

“Too bad you can not fight,” she mused before pressing her lips against yours. You melted in her touch. You tried to cup her face or hug her or anything to only feel the rope around your wrist. She nibbled on your lip and you ripped the rope to thread your hand in her hair.

She pulled back. “No super strength.”

“But-“

“None,” she said tilting your chin up towards her. You put your wrists back where she had them. She pressed her lips back against yours and you couldn’t help the soft sounds you made. You pulled away at the noises in the hall.

“Nightwing,” you breathed and Cass was up and standing like nothing happened within a second and right before Dick opened the door. You, of course, looked like an idiot laying on the ground.

“Any progress,” Dick asked as you stood back up.

“Uhh,” you started.

“She will learn,” Cass answered. Dick was looking at you and Cass grinned like a cat at you from behind you.

“Yep,” you said and he smiled.

“Good. We’ll schedule it a few times a week,” Dick said while typing on his phone. Probably making the schedule already. “Just until Cass decides you’re ready. Now you have flying training with Koriand’r. You’ll be in fighting shape in no time.”

————————————

Hours later:

“So how is Y/n doing?” Clark asked Dick.

“Good. She’s training to be a better fighter before I put her out in the field.”

“Who with?” Clark asked with a frown. “Even though she didn’t grow up fighting, she has super streng-“

“Don’t worry. She’s training with Black Bat and to be honest, she probably won’t get a single hit in,” Dick said with a grin.

“I’m surprised she didn’t faint,” Clark said jokingly. Dick’s smile dropped.

“Is she having an health problems or anything-“

“No no. She’s just a… big fan,” Clark said. Dick nodded casually before realization hit him.

“Like that?”

“Hahaha yeah,” Clark said with a laugh. “Anyways, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.”

[verymuchimmortalcat]

The Chronicles of Marinette Wayne

For Bio dad Bruce Month Day 22: Library/Books

ao3

@maribat-bdbwm ​

Marinette had first come to live with him when she had been five and had just lost her mother. The only reason she was coming to stay with them had been Dick, who was much more excited at the prospect of a younger sister than Bruce was about another child and a grieving one at that.

When Bruce had first been contacted about having a biological daughter who had just lost her mother, he had thought it would be better to send her to someone like the Kents. Someone who would provide her with a stable family where she could lead a happy life. But then Dick had found out when Bruce had gone to Alfred for advice and had convinced him to bring her to the manor. Had convinced him that letting her go now might affect her in the future, and he wasn’t wrong (not that Bruce had considered how it might affect her since it would definitely look like he hadn’t wanted her, he just wasn’t sure if he was the best candidate) but the life they lead wasn’t one he wanted to drag a five-year-old into. When he had voiced that thought Dick had retorted with, “well, you’re not planning to put her in a cape and let her fight the rogues, are you?”

Of course not, he had no intention of doing that. She was five for heaven’s sake, and so the matter had been decided. She would live with them.

 .oOo.

 Marinette had warmed up to both Dick and Alfred almost instantaneously. Bruce spent what time he was at home hovering around her uncertainly. She spoke to him occasionally but not a lot. He had learnt (from her, he’d done an extensive background check and looked into all the details of her upbringing prior to this) that she liked pink, her favourite food was chocolate chip cookies and that she had a favourite soft toy that she always slept with. But even though she spoke to him she was never as open with him as she was with Dick or Alfred. It took her a week before she came to him willingly instead of him talking to her.

It had been shortly after he had returned from patrol. The door to his room had opened and tear-filled blue eyes stared at him, he could see her clinging on to her soft toy. He got up and walked towards her, she was still lingering in the doorway. Kneeling to reach her height he asks softly, “nightmare?”

She nods, tears still streaming down her face.

He looks at her unsure of what to do.

“Would you like to go back to sleep?” he asks quietly.

She shakes her head vehemently.

He still is unsure of what to do. Acting on a random whim he stands and picks her up. She clings to him and he definitely doesn’t marvel over how she fits perfectly in his arms.

He takes her to the library and picks out The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, sitting on his favourite armchair he seats her on his lap and starts to read to her, “Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy…”

 .oOo.

 Alfred finds the two of them passed out in the armchair the next morning. The crick in his neck and the lecture he gets from Alfred about how an armchair is not the proper place for either of them to sleep are worth it when Marinette comes to him that night with the book in hand asking about, “Mr. Tumus”

“Mr. Tumnus,” he corrects her gently.

She nods in agreement and repeats, “Mr. Tumus.”

 .oOo.

 Him reading to her becomes an event. She drags Dick into it too, whenever he isn’t with his Teen Titans in New York that is. Alfred provides them with milk and cookies and he reads to Marinette and Dick every night before patrol. They stop once she falls asleep and either him or Dick take her up to bed before patrol.

About a year after they start this routine, he returns from patrol to find a crying Marinette in his room. She just cries harder once she sees him. He holds her until she falls asleep resolving to talk to her in the morning.

He takes her to the cave the next morning, after breakfast, with Dick and tells her about Batman and Robin. When they head back to the manor she heads to her room and doesn’t come out before sundown (Alfred took her lunch to her room and had somehow talked her into eating). He spends the whole day worrying about if telling her was the wrong thing to do. She had lost her mother mere months before, she shouldn’t have to worry about her other parent too. She comes down for dinner and after dinner she still drags them to the library. She doesn’t fall asleep like she usually does, instead when he completes a chapter Marinette asks the two of them to wait, runs out and returns, panting, a few minutes later with something colourful in her hand. She then hands it to both him and Dick it’s a thread with beads on it. She hands Dick two of these, one has red, green and yellow beads and the other is purple, black and yellow, and his has blue, purple and black.

She grins up at the two of them and says cheerfully, “lucky charms. Dick’s is like Robin and yours is Batman.”

“And the other one?” Dick asks

“Batgirl,” she exclaims cheerfully.

Bruce as always is amazed at her never-ending optimism, kindness and hopefulness. Dick offers her a sunshine smile of his own, hugs her and says, “Thank you Sunshine.”

Once she lets go of Dick she looks at him with her big blue eyes, and Bruce ruffles her hair and gives her a smile and tells her he’ll carry it with him at all times. She smiles wider (something Bruce wasn’t aware was possible) and says goodnight before skipping back to her room.

 .oOo.

 Barbara convinces Dick to bring Marinette to the library after he gives her the lucky charm. The two of them leave the manor dressed in casual clothes and treat it almost like a mission to go and come back without causing any news scandals.

When they return Marinette’s carrying the entire Chronicles of Narnia series and pestering Dick about visiting Barbara again.

He points out that they already have the Chronicles of Narnia in the manor library, Marinette opens the book to a random page shows it to him and says, “but look this one has pretty pictures.”

He reads from the newly acquired illustrated copies that night.

 .oOo.

 As Dick starts to pull away more and Bruce tries to get him back, the tension in the house is high on good days. They don’t spend as often reading in the library anymore. He still reads to Marinette after nightmares, but Marinette no longer pulls them all to read while they have cookies and milk.

And then Dick leaves. He still visits Marinette, takes her out or Barbara will drop by and take her to the library. But he doesn’t spend any time in the manor other than to speak to Alfred. But there’s no longer a Batman and Robin. Gotham has Batman and Blüdhaven, Nightwing.

Marinette no longer comes to him with her copy of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe after nightmares,

 .oOo.

 When he first brings Jason home, Marinette had decided to spend the day with Dick in Blüdhaven. When Alfred brings her back the next morning, she’s shocked but she decides she’s going to be his friend. She takes him on a tour of the manor. Bruce trails behind the two, unsure of what to do, before he’s called away by an emergency at WE.

When he returns the two of them aren’t in either of their rooms, the several sitting rooms or the media room.

Alfred is the one who finds him during his search for the two and says, “I would check the library Master Bruce. It seems the young Master Jason has a love of literature.”

Sure enough, that’s where he finds the two. On the armchair that he had used that very first night, the both of them being tiny enough to fit in one seat, curled up and reading. Not wanting to disturb the two he steps back quietly. The two of them come as soon as Alfred calls them for dinner, and Jason’s certainly more animated than he had been the day before.

 .oOo.

 Marinette talks Dick into visiting, Bruce is simply glad to see his son back temporarily even if Dick refuses to talk to Bruce. He forms a tentative friendship with Jason. Bruce finds the three of them in the library before he leaves for patrol, Marinette’s reading The Magician’s Nephew out loud while the two of them sit next to her with milk and cookies in hand. His heart warms at the sight, he wishes he could take a picture but he doesn’t want to disturb them. Footage from the security cameras will have to do.

 .oOo.

 When Barbara’s shot, Marinette’s there everyday that Barbara’s fine with visitors. The rest of them accompany her as often as they can. Even as things slowly return to some what normal, Marinette spends nearly half her time with Barbara.

And then Jason dies. Marinette spends more time outside than at the Manor, or so Alfred says. And Bruce, well he isn’t really sure anymore.

He sends Marinette to Paris for her own safety. He’d met and befriended a nice couple during his travels and they had agreed to let his daughter stay with them for a while.

Marinette doesn’t care about his reasons, when she leaves for Paris she takes all her things but leaves the illustrated set of the Chronicles of Narnia that he had bought for her as a birthday gift after she and Dick had first visited Barbara.

 .oOo.

 Shortly after Robin hits the streets once again, Tim comes over to the Batcave in a panic one night. Rambling about an unsigned package that was just books and a slip of paper with a number on it. He had wanted to check it for any possible signs of danger. Bruce had agreed, it was definitely a strange thing and with the lives they lead no one could really tell for sure.

And then Bruce sees the books and tells Tim there’s nothing to worry about. It’s a new set of the Chronicles of Narnia. There’s a charm hanging from one of the books. She’s gotten better at making them since she was five.

He sighs and says, “The number’s safe. Call her, she’ll probably explain better than I can.”

He doesn’t join Tim, Marinette hasn’t spoken to him since she was sent to Paris and he doesn’t know what to say to her now.

 .oOo.

 There’s a supervillain in Paris, someone new, something about rock monsters. He takes Clark and Diana to check it out. He sent Marinette there so she could be safe, not so that she ends up in another city infested with villains.

When he gets there, there are two children. The girl feels really familiar, the way she speaks when she talks to the flying butterfly head is really familiar but before Bruce can worry too much about it the fight is done and the two kids are swarmed by the press. Before they can move from where they are, the girl- Ladybug says something to her partner and swings out. The next thing he knows she’s standing in front of him and the anger is visible on her face, “Get out. Get out of Paris right now.”

“We’re here to hel-” Clark starts to say when she cuts him off.

“Not you, I want Batman out of this city right now,” she repeats glaring at him. He knows those eyes. They’re the eyes he looks at every day in the mirror. The eyes he shares with his daughter.

“Marine-”

She doesn’t let him continue, “Uncle Clark and Aunt Diana can stay for a while if they can keep their emotions in check but they’ll have to leave too. I want you to leave now.”

He can see Clark and Diana reeling and slowly figuring out what’s happening. Ignoring the two of them he asks, “how?”

She laughs, not the tinkling cheerful sound that he had heard in the manor but a bitter sound, and Bruce wishes he could fix this.

“I was given the miraculous and now I’ve promised to protect this city. Why, regretting your decision to send me here?”

Yes. Very much so. But the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth, and he watches silently as she turns and leaves.

Bruce can feel the weight of Clark and Diana’s gazes. Shrugging off their questions he heads to the nearest teleporter.

His only child that hadn’t wanted this life had been pushed into it.

 .oOo.

 Tim and Marinette have kept in contact. He’s caught several of their conversations, though he’s never joined one.

It’s been nearly a year since he saw her in Paris. And then Tim’s dad tells him he can’t be Robin and that he can’t contact the hero community anymore. Two days later, Ladybug shows up in Gotham worried out of her mind. Stephanie’s the one who finds her and brings her to the cave. When she first starts talking to him, he’s so relieved to speak to her again that he misses out on a bit but the gist of what she said would be, “did something happen to Tim?”

He can tell she’s annoyed with what happened with Jack Drake. But before she can speak, Nightwing walks into the cave to find a detransformed Marinette. And before Marinette can figure out what’s happening, Dick has engulfed her in a hug and Marinette’s laughing. Bruce smiles as he returns to the Batcomputer, it’s been a really long time since he’s heard her laugh.

 .oOo.

 Marinette stays for the next week. She’d apparently panicked and told everyone she had a family emergency and wouldn’t be back for the week. Bruce was glad that she still considered them family, especially after that disastrous conversation in Paris.

She spends time with Barbara, Stephanie and Cassandra. Apparently, Stephanie and Cass already knw her and have spoken to her a few times. She spends some time with him, speaks more to him than she has in the past two years after he sent her to Paris.

On her last day in Gotham, he finds her and Cass in the library. She’s sitting with Cass on the armchair and she and Cass are reading Prince Caspian. They must’ve been here the whole week if she’s gotten to that far. The idea of reading those books in the wrong order is like sacrilege to Marinette.

She returns to Paris when the week ends, but has now added him to her semi-regularly contacted people.

 .oOo.

 Marinette pulls away again after Stephanie dies. From what Tom and Sabine tell him, she’s spending what time she’s not in school, with Alya. Bruce knows that Alya Cesaire knows that Marinette is Ladybug, realises she’s throwing herself into superheroing. Bruce wishes she’d inherited some of his better habits.

She doesn’t visit again for a while. Not until the attack on Titans Tower, and even then he doesn’t see her. He doesn’t know if anyone did.

But when he’s in the library to check something for a case he realises all of Jason’s favourite books that Marinette had with her were back in place.

He doesn’t mention it to anyone.

 .oOo.

 Darkseid happens. When he returns from the time stream, things are different from how he left them.

The whole family comes to the manor, after he returns. They’re all telling stories over dinner. Stephanie speaks of a little girl who idolises batgirl. Dick carries out an over dramatic reproduction of one of his and Damian’s patrols, while Damian complains about how inaccurate it is. Jason’s laughing at the two of them. Cass and Marinette coax Tim into talking about the whole Mr. Sarcastic mess. Dick looks gleeful as everyone rips into Tim’s momentary lapse in a sense of style, before Tim brings up Dick’s first Nightwing suit as a defence. Barbara points out the lack of pants in the first two robin costumes, and the others laugh (Damian grins) while Dick and Jason splutter in indignance. Marinette (who people tend to forget spent a good chunk of time with Dick when she was younger) describes in an exaggerated manner some of Gabriel’s, he’s missed quite a lot, worst akuma costumes and marvels over how he managed to create them while also being a world-renowned fashion designer.

As all of them continue to talk happily, Bruce slips out of the dining room. They deserve a break, but someone still needs to take care of Gotham.

Gotham has unnaturally less crime today, still takes him time to finish his patrol though. Unnaturally less crime in Gotham is still more crime than what most other cities face.

He heads to the library to grab a book to read before he sleeps. There’s a light on in the far corner of the library. When Bruce heads there he finds a large plate with crumbs on it with a few empty or half-finished glasses of milk next to the plate. His children are scattered around. They’ve pushed back the seats and have mostly spread themselves on the carpet. Marinette curled up between Dick and Jason and still reading from the practically ancient copy of the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Jason’s reading one of his classics. Damian’s sitting on Dick’s other side and is animatedly talking about one of his pets while Dick listens to him attentively. Tim and Barbara are going over something on her laptop at the table, and Stephanie and Cass are curled up against each other and talking quietly. Cass is the first to see him and smiles at him and beckons him to join them. Picking a book off the shelf he joins them on the floor.

When Alfred finds them there the next morning, having gotten used to finding them asleep in the library several times over the years, he just sighs and tells them that breakfast is ready and if they’d like hot food, they’d have to get off the floor. All of them scramble up and as they leave the library, he can hear them starting to plot on how to get Alfred to join them the next time.

[themaribatpit]

Hanging by a Thread: Chapter 3

Rated M: DC canon-typical violence, suggestive threats

Author’s Note: Neither of us are actually American, and DC Fanboy has some gripes with certain American habits.  Please feel free to tell us how uncultured we are in the comments, and try and explain yourselves to non-Americans.

Ships: Jason Todd/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dick Grayson/Barbara Gordon (side ship).

Taglist:

@aespades​, @neakco, @ladybug-182, @seraphichana, @zalladane, @luminous-carrot, @jayjayspixiepop, @cap-noodles, @livelifeauthorstyle, @thepaceperson, @moongoddesskiana, @vroomtaka, @laurcad123,  @prettylittlebutterflie

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4​

Chapter 3

Dick slumped down on a chair when they returned to the Belfry.  He ripped off his domino mask and let out a sigh. “Damn he’s good, then again he was taught by the best.” 

“Dick!” Barbara gave him a dirty look. They both looked towards their French guest to see her still lost in thought. 

Ladybug transformed back to Marinette, and then slowly walked over to get herself another cup of hot chocolate to cheer herself up. As she operated the multi hot drinks machine in the Belfry, she thought about how incredibly convenient the device was. Barbara and Dick mentioned that unless it was winter, no one else used it for hot chocolate. 

Hot chocolate dispensed from the machine, and as she picked up the paper cup, a shadow loomed over her. She was able to make out the silhouette of an imposing figure with demonic pointed ears. She squealed in shock, spilling her hot chocolate on the figure. 

Dick rolled off the chair laughing, “Oh, better fly away home Ladybug.” “How long have you been waiting to use that joke?” Barbara said without looking away from the screen.

“Since the moment I met her, Babs,” Dick retorted.

After the initial shock, Marinette was able to see the figure clearly and realised she just spilled hot chocolate on Batman. The Batman. Marinette paled at what she had done, she fumbled around looking for tissues. All the while apologising profusely as she tried to find anything to wipe the Caped Crusader clean from this chocolatey mess. Her mind ran at a mile a minute, thinking of what Batman would do to her for spilling hot chocolate on him. She thought of how Batman would squish her like a bug, or perhaps he would break all of her limbs, and send her on the first flight back to Paris while tied to the cargo hold. Her mind was catastrophizing and going into a full panic as she stumbled around the kitchenette. 

Marinette found a damp cloth and began wiping Batman vigorously from head to toe and hoping it would somehow lessen her punishment. She looked up to see that Batman continued to stare at her with his infamous glare. Seeing that her attempts to clean up her mess had no effect, she ran back towards the main room and grabbed Dick, holding him in front of her as a shield. 

Batman slowly followed, without saying a word he stomped into the main room and came to a halt right in front of Dick. “Uh, hi.” Dick awkwardly greeted Batman. Marinette shakingly peeked her head out from behind. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as Ladybug.” Batman’s low voice boomed with authority. “What are you doing here in Gotham?” 

Marinette yelped and went back to hiding behind Dick. Barbara interjected, “She’s here to investigate a recent use of the Lazarus Pit, mainly the Red Hood. From what we gather the creatures that give her power were also the ones who created the pits.” She explained on Marinette’s behalf. 

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room as Batman contemplated her answer. “Fine,” he relented. He turned and walked away. 

Marinette released a sigh of relief as she saw Batman leave. Dick took out his phone and began tapping on it, he just had to notify the rest of the Bat Family of what had just transpired. After a few moments he put his phone back in his pocket and walked away, “I’ll get a mop” he yelled back at Marinette and Barbara. 

Marinette then slumped on the dining table, hands in her head. Completely embarrassed at how she made a fool of herself in front of one of the world’s greatest heroes. Barbara calmly patted her back in consolation. After she calmed down and got herself another cup of hot chocolate, Marinette decided to head home.

On the way back to the apartment she shared with Zoe, she checked the messages that Zoe sent her during the past couple of days.  “Hey, are you okay?” The first one read.  “I haven’t seen you in the apartment for a while now,” she said, followed by a message that said “Please don’t be dead, I can’t afford rent by myself.” Marinette sent a quick reply saying, “I’m okay, I’ve just been busy taking care of some things.  See you tonight.” she said. When Marinette got home, she logged onto her computer to see a few messages from Alya, asking her of how she found Gotham City. Expressing worry for her friend, especially with the notoriety of Gotham's crime rate.

Marinette typed up "Hi Alya! Gotham is all right, I can take care of myself, you know that."

Alya decided to video call Marinette and her face appeared on screen. "Hey!" Alya waved her hand to her friend.

"Hi" Marinette gave a tired wave back.

"Everything okay?" Asked Alya.

"Fine, just tired from moving into the new place." She explained.

"By the way, could you open up a portal with Kaalki to my room?" asked Alya.

Marinette complied with her friend, as she put on the horse Miraculous and opened a portal. Soon a paper bag dropped from the ceiling and landed on the floor. "I had a feeling you might want something to cheer you up, I went to your parents' patisserie earlier."

Marinette opened up the bag to see several treats from the bakery.  She thanked her best friend profusely, and began eating them “How are things back in Paris?” Marinette asked, taking a macaron out of one of the boxes, she smiled as she took a bite out of it.  It was almost like she was 13 again, and her dad had given her a box of macarons for the first day of school.  

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Alya said, winking at her. “So, have you met any of Gotham’s vigilantes yet?” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck.  “Well, yeah,” she might as well tell her some of the things that happened.  “I accidentally spilled hot chocolate on Batman’s cape,” she confessed. “And you’re still alive?” Alya’s mouth hung open in shock. “Well, he does have a pretty strict ‘no killing’ policy,” Marinette told her. “Okay fair enough, how are you still in one piece?” Alya asked, still somewhat shocked.

“He just kinda glared at me, and I hid behind one of his sidekicks.” Marinette told her, “So, that’s how.” “Ah so you’ve met the sidekicks then,”  Alya gave her another knowing smile. “Some of them, Nightwing being one of them.” Marinette told her. “Did you get a good look at his assets?”  Alya gave her a wink, and Marinette rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure his assets were spoken for,” Marinette said, and before Alya could say anything more she quickly added “and no, I am not telling you who the lucky person is.” “You’re no fun.” Alya pouted mockingly, but she couldn’t stay angry at her friend.  Alya noticed the faraway look in Marinette’s eyes at that moment, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Marinette wondered how best to phrase it, “do you know anything about the Red Hood?” she asked.

Alya’s eyes widened in shock, “You’ve met him? Are you and Zoe living in his territory?”

“No, at least not that I know of, I just…” Marinette assured her, “Do you know anything about him?” “Give me a moment,” Alya said, quickly turning away to search for something on her laptop screen, “must have heard something about the guy…” she muttered.  Marinette never really told Alya about her soulmate bond, and she wasn’t about to start now.  “Says here he’s a crime lord that operates in Gotham City, that he took over Black Mask’s crime syndicate not too long ago…” Alya told her, “Pretty brutal to those who cross him, by the sound of things.” “Good to know,” Marinette muttered. “Marinette, are you sure you and Zoe are okay?” Alya asked. “We’re fine, just that Ladybug ran into him while working with Batman’s sidekicks.” Marinette told her. “I should have been there, it would have been a fun interview for Ladyblog.” Alya chuckled, and Marinette raised an eyebrow.  “I mean, after the fight of course, or maybe I should just stop talking.” “Try pitching the idea to Vicki Vale or Lois Lane, I’m sure they would jump at the chance.” Marinette joked.

"Just you wait until I get my Journalism degree, I'll bother you everyday for a scoop." Alya retorted. The two of them continued to laugh and joke with one another before Marinette went to bed.

The next morning, Marinette was woken by someone gently nudging her awake.  “Get dressed dummy, we’re going out.” she heard a voice say. Marinette looked up and blinked a few times before Zoe’s face came into view.  “What time is it?” Marinette groaned. “9am,” Zoe told her, “we are going to go out and get some breakfast together.” Marinette groaned in response, but slowly got out of bed.  Zoe leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms and smiling.  She chuckled slightly at the sight of Marinette’s tousled hair, Marinette smiled slightly in response.  “All right, all right, give me some time to get dressed.” she said and Zoe left, closing the door behind her. 

The two friends sat down to eat breakfast at a nearby diner, and Zoe began telling Marinette all the ways in which America was very different from France.  “First of all, they call the 24 hour clock ‘military time’, I never understood that.” she explained before taking a bite of her pancakes.  Americans made pancakes a lot thicker and fluffier compared to crepes, was another thing Marinette noticed.  “Oh, no more 2 hour lunch breaks, and as a French person, you will get made fun of for having more time off work than the Americans.” she said.  

As the two finished breakfast, Zoe paid the bill and left a tip. Marinette raised an eyebrow at Zoe for paying what was higher than the bill. “Marinette, remember, always tip whenever you go eat at a restaurant or a diner.” She explained. 

“Why? Isn’t there a service charge added? Don’t the servers get paid?” Marinette asked.

“Not at all.” Zoe deadpanned. 

“What?” Marinette exclaimed in shock, she quickly covered her mouth as eyes turned to face her for her outburst. 

 Zoe beckoned Marinette to follow her, “Come on, I’ll show you all the hotspots in Gotham City.”

 The two walked out onto the street and across several blocks.  Zoe stopped as the two reached their destination. She then pointed to an old gothic tower, “That there is the old Wayne Tower, creepy isn’t it? Built in 1888 by Cyrus Pinkey for the Waynes right at the heart of Gotham City. It’s been closed for a few years now, since Wayne Enterprise moved to the New Wayne Tower in the financial district.”

 Marinette’s eyes widened in recognition, it was where the Belfry was located. She remembered the gothic tower, but she had no idea it was the old Wayne Tower. She decided it would be best to keep quiet about this revelation. 

 The two continued sightseeing as they ventured into Robinson Park. “This park is amazing, the biggest park in the heart of Gotham. Also it's very close to Gotham U, I’d love to come here everyday after class to unwind.” Zoe explained. The two calmly walked across the park, enjoying the scenery and stopping by to feed some ducks.

 “Anyway I need to get some things on the way back,” the two then walked to a nearby grocery store and bought groceries. Being on a budget, Marinette eyed the price tags frugally, calculating how much it would cost her. Zoe smirked at Marinette, knowing what would come next when the two went to the cash register. Marinette was thrown into a loop as the total amount did not match the price tags. Marinette tried to ask for an explanation from the cashier, but they were not helpful. The cashier only said that it was tax, “Why isn’t tax included in the price tags?” she pleaded to the cashier.

The cashier gave Marinette a light shrug. “That's just the way things are.” 

Marinette pulled her pigtails in frustration as to why the final price doesn’t match the price tag. “Ok fine, what's the tax in America?”

Zoe took the chance to intervene and explain it to her friend. “It depends, it varies between states, counties and even cities.” 

Marinette banged her head against the counter in frustration. “Why? Why is it so crazy here?” 

Zoe and the cashier laughed at Marinette's antics. The cashier asked “You new here?” 

Marinette did not lift her head up, “How could you tell?” 

The two made their purchase and walked home, Marinette had to do a double take on the loaf of bread she bought. She stopped Zoem and said that they needed to go back to the grocery store for another loaf of bread, because this one had expired. Zoe snatched the loaf from Marinette’s hands and took another look. “Nope it's fine, remember America uses Month/Day/Year here.” Zoe explained. Marinette’s eye twitched as the two walked back to their apartment. 

The semester began the following Monday at Gotham University. As a Fashion & Design student, Marinette had long studio classes which usually kept her busy during the day.  She would have to spend even longer hours in the studio if she had a project due.  When Zoe wasn’t attending lectures, she had a part-time job that kept her busy as well.  So Marinette didn’t see much of her by the time she managed to return to their apartment.

Over the course of the next few days, she would go to her classes by day and go out every night to search for her soulmate. However, the Red Hood had proved to be elusive, always alert to the movement of the red thread that tied them together.  Marinette found that the thread changed wildly.  Some nights she stopped by the Belfry, exhausted and dejected. Barbara had noticed this and decided that she had to know about Jason, it might change her mind or it might not. She deserved to know if she was going to go looking for him every night.

One night when she entered the Belfry, Barbara gestured to Marinette, “Come over and pull up a chair.” Marinette followed and brought a chair to the computer. The two sat side by side, “Mari, you deserve to know more about Jason...the Red Hood.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the mention of her soulmate, “Please tell me more about him.” she begged.

“Marinette, I’m sorry, we knew more about him but we didn’t tell you.” Barbara apologised.

Marinette was hurt at how they were withholding information about her soulmate from her. “Why?” was all that she was able to say.

Barbara took a deep breath, “Because Jason was the second Robin.” 

Marinette’s jaw dropped at this bombshell, her soulmate used to be Robin. It would explain the skills he displayed out in their last encounter. Marinette wondered how tough his life was, how he suffered at the hands of the criminals of Gotham at such a young age. Some of the things he said back at the dockyards were now sounding like they came from experience.  “What was he like?” she asked, wanting to know what her soulmate was like before his death. 

“Angry, rebellious, Jason always felt like it was him against the world. He was caught trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile, that's how Batman found him and brought him in.” Barbara explained. 

“How did he die?” Marinette asked.

Barbara grew silent at the mention of Jason’s death. “He tried to pursue the Joker, but it was a trap. The Joker caught him, tortured him for god knows how long. I saw his bruises, it-it was as if he was beaten over and over again with a crowbar.” Marinette covered her mouth and her eyes welled with tears as she heard the gruesome details of her soulmate's unfortunate end. 

“To make matters worse, he locked Jason in the room with a bomb.” “What about the Red Hood?” she asked. “We...we buried a mannequin in a wig,” Barbara explained, “the real body was taken by the League of Assassins, trying to make up for what happened.”

Marinette stood up and rushed to the guest room, she had heard enough.  She could not imagine the pain and suffering her soulmate had been through his entire life.

Jason had been constantly on the move, knowing that his soulmate was out looking for him.  He tried to shut off the part of him that wanted to get close.  He was honestly surprised the Bat clan hadn't told her every horrific story they had about him.  Either they didn't know they were soulmates or she was knowingly walking head first into the lion's mouth.  If she didn't find him, then she might stumble upon a group of his men at work, and they might be a lot less forgiving.   If he was constantly checking over his shoulder, making sure the girl wasn't close by, things were bound to start slipping through the cracks.  

He himself had various safehouses scattered around the city, but he couldn't keep running forever.   It was getting ridiculous, he had faced crime lords, assassins and even gone toe-to-toe with Batman multiple times.  Yet here he was, running and hiding from a girl who was about a foot shorter than he was.  He knew why, of course, he wasn't afraid of her but she should be very afraid of him.  He had hoped that she would give up the search, as she drew closer and closer to finding out the truth about what happened to him.  But life had never been that easy for Jason, and sooner or later she was going to get too close to the untamed monster beneath.  If she got hurt because of him, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.  Not even his old self could forgive that.  He would have no trouble protecting her from other criminals, not that she really needed it.  However, whatever came crawling out of the pits was something else.

After putting a swift end to some people who were causing trouble in his territory,  his mind wandered back to Ladybug.  Specifically, the sad look in her eyes when he explained how brutal and unforgiving Gotham could be.  He tried not to think about it, because that look made him want to hold her close, and reassure her that everything would be okay.  Thoughts of how the idea of her gave him hope all those years ago would come bubbling to the surface.  It made him want to protect her, to ensure that this world wouldn’t hurt her the way it hurt him.  When she looked at him with those eyes, it made him want to believe that she trusted him to do just that.  He shook his head, and told himself that what he was also the very thing she needed protecting from.  

Most nights Jason had nightmares about failing to save her.  There were even nightmares where she died by his hands.  Her blue eyes would become lifeless and vacant, her skin would feel ice cold, and he would end up cradling her limp form in his arms.  Batman would just love it if those nightmares came true.  It would only prove to him that Jason was nothing more than an unhinged monster he couldn’t cage.  It wasn’t as though the Bat had much luck caging the real monsters in Gotham anyhow.  Most days, Jason’s skin crawled as he remembered the feeling of the Lazarus pit’s waters.  The creatures she was palling around with were the ones who made it. They probably didn’t give a damn about the evil they had inflicted on the world because of it.   For all he knew, being around her little fairy friends would make the effects much worse.  Still, when he snapped back to reality, he would see the string glowing red, just as it had always done.  Occasionally moving and twitching as his soulmate searched high and low for him. Maybe the time had come to have a little talk, soulmate to soulmate...

[miss-choco-chips]

Umm... I was wondering if you could Maybe do a follow up on your mini fic Last Line from dicks pov? It gave me alot of feelings and i would love to see the fallout?

Your work is really good! Its so cool how your brave enough to put pieces of yourself out there for other people!

Hey babe! Thank you for your kind words! It made me smile getting this, you are very sweet <3

I totally forgot about Last Line lol, but when I saw it reminded me that I actually wrote a bit more of it, both before and after the scene I posted. So, this isn’t exactly what you asked, but here’s some backstory and then the fallout!

---.---

Four years old, and he watches the red string on his finger pulled taunt towards the crying boy, the color of the thread well disguised among the red blood of the murdered acrobats.

Nine, and he watches from the shadows as it swings right and left, following Robin’s pirouettes from building to building. The thread, that usually goes a few feet before ‘vanishing’ from sight, was almost completely visible now, at such a short distance from the person holding onto its other end.

He’s on his twelve when he tries to explain to Dick the importance of him going back home. He wasn’t sure of his success, even though the older hero took him to the manor, because during his whole speech, Nightwing hadn’t looked up from the red joining them together. It wasn’t exactly how Tim wanted him to find out, but… Batman needed a Robin, and he was out of options.

At fourteen, he feels Kon’s hand clenching on his shoulder, as they both watch from the side how Nightwing swept Barbara off her feet and twisted her around, laughter falling from both their lips even as Dick thread’s end was pointing towards Tim. The third Robin didn’t turn to look at his best friend, didn’t meet Bart’s eyes or react to Cassie taking his hand on hers. He just made sure his face was perfectly devoid of any emotion when he muttered, low enough only a kryptonian would hear, ‘I wish it was any of you’. 

(A few nights later, when he and Conner were sitting quietly on the Tower’s roof, the clone took Tim’s hand with his own, his lack of red string blatantly obvious as he said ‘If I had any, I wish it could be you’. To this day, it’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to him)

He is so, so tired, and he’s only sixteen. But keeping up with the shitfest that was the Battle for the Cowl, helping Dick while ignoring his red string (pulling him towards Nightwing, now Batman, stark contrast against the dark of his suit, with distracting insistency), dealing with Damian’s abuse as expected of him as the ‘mature, older brother’, coping with Bruce’s death, the shock of Dick throwing him, his soulmate, away so so easily…

(Shouldn't be surprising; Dick had been discarding him in favor of others since they met, shamelessly displaying his various relationships in front of him with an attitude that might be called cruel from anyone else but that just earned him playful shoves from other Leaguers while Tim was expected to swallow his pain, because a red string isn’t a promise, Dick is free… and yes, he knows that, but it doesn’t mean shit to his dying heart)

(Maybe, when he left for proof of Bruce being alive, it wasn’t so much for his old mentor than it was for himself)

----.----

Tim is seventeen and halfway across the world, looking at the string attached to his hand that never truly meant anything to any other than him (not to Bruce, who never took Dick aside and talked to him about consideration with his soul mate; not Dick's conquers, who never gave a fuck  about the red string in the hands that touched their skin, even when a lot of them knew who was on the other end of it; not Dick himself, who after asking every thing out of Tim and having it, forcefully took the one thing Tim wouldn't give by choice and claimed Tim was his equal, his soulmate, so he never could be his sidekick... even if it was the first time ever that Dick even mentioned the string tying them both together), when he thinks 'you were always free; now, I'm freeing myself’.

He gingerly bites on the string, and with his other hand takes a handful of it and pulls.

The pain piercing his heart is expected, but not new. He had been feeling it since the first time he saw Dick's back as he walked away with someone else.

He times it carefully, too. He doesn't think Dick would care, but just in case, Tim waits until it's morning in Gotham, when he's sure Dick is probably sleeping after patrol.

Maybe he would wake up without noticing

---.---

In Gotham, Dick is carried by Alfred and Damian to the cave, when the new Batman's screams of pain woke everyone in the Manor up. They are suspecting cardiac arrest, and then Dick looks down to his hand and notices the string, always tense, signaling him where his north is, where Tim is, laying loose and lifeless.

He panics, asks Superman to track Tim down or something, and when the man confirms Tim is still alive somewhere in the Middle East, he knows.

And like a freight train, the parting words Kori told him the last time they saw each other hit him right in the chest.

"He isn't going to wait for you forever"

----.-----

When Tim does come back, at nineteen, it’s a quiet thing. 

He spent the last how many days carefully setting his systems up, making sure his mainframe would outstand Oracle’s scrutiny when she realized he was back in town and tried to hack her way into his life.

(He didn’t blame her, of course not. Dick was charming enough, good enough, anyone he set his eyes into would be helpless to nothing but fall in his arms.

And, wasn’t Tim the one who would have been intruding, had he tried to chase after the first Robin? Everyone knew he and the original Batgirl were a perfect match, thousands of times better than Tim, whom Fate just wanted to screw over.

But not anymore)

The first thing he did, once the safe houses were chosen and his programs up and running, was to ruthlessly hack into the Batcomputer and take a look at patrol routes. 

He would need to keep clear of Diamond District and Old Gotham, least he risked crossing paths with B and R. The Financial and City Hall Districts were apparently Batgirl’s playground for the night, and if he wanted to drop by and let Cass know he was back, he could always search for her by the Upper West Side down to Chinatown.

He would avoid the Upper East Side like the plague, though. Maybe Coventry too, just to be safe. Lots of skintight blue in that direction.

Which left… Crime Alley, the Bowery and Burnley, mainly. He needn't check to know who’s house that was.

And that’s how he ended, on his very first night back on the streets, dragging Red Hood’s bleeding ass away from a blowing up building.

-----.-----

Apparently, saving a recently rehabilitated murderous vigilante was a bonding experience, because Jason didn’t kick him out of his side of town, nor tell on him. 

He couldn't, however, do anything to prevent the criminal gossip mile from spreading, and before a week had passed, half the city was aware of the new player on the board.

-----.------

Jason was taking a breather, smoking while sitting on his favorite rooftop, when the rustling sound of fabric told him his peace and quiet was over.

“I thought you were back at being N”, he greeted, not bothering to turn around or get up. 

“B was out of town, and Robin needed someone to watch over him during patrol.”

A quick glance around had Hood snorting, “Then y’re doing a shitty job. Don’t see the midget anywhere.”

It would never NOT be weird to hear a strangled laugh coming out of the Bat suit, as tight and humorless as it was now. It seemed big ol Dick wasn’t doing so great tonight.

“Batgirl took him to a party in Diamond District. Gang war.”

He humms in response, not bothering to keep on the smalltalk. N, no, B was here for something, and it wasn’t Jason’s job to ask it out of him; if it was important, he would do it himself.

“Where is him, Hood?”, he finally went to the heart of the matter. 

Jason tilted his head, still looking over his city, unmindful of the steps coming closer to his position, “Robin? Ya just said it, B. Going senile? Gang war, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t play around. You know I mean…”

Oh, yeah, Dickie still wasn’t sure what to call Timbo. Criminal gossip only went so far, for someone who didn’t bother to shout his hero name to everyone he beat up. It was very possible only  Jason was aware of his new monicker. All gothamites knew was a young vigilante showed up recently, wearing red and black and hanging out with the Hood, which immediately upped his street rep to ‘not to be fucked with’.

“Lil red?”, he completed for his older brother, feeling both charitable and petty. Batman’s wince was more evident by the rustling sound of his cape; he had hit a sore spot, hadn’t he? 

“Where? I’m not asking again.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not answering. Must be ‘roundere somewhere, the little creep.”

“Hood, I’m running out of patience.”

“And I’m out of cigarettes, your point? I don’t have him on a leash asshole. We just share the same hunting space, it’s not like we go home together and do face masks while we talk about feelings.”

They did go to a safespot, though, and share beer and pizza while cursing their relatives and Fate as a whole, but it wasn’t necessary information for the fucker. He just breathed in the last of his smoke before dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it, stretching as he did.

“Now, any more of this riveting conversation, or can I go? No, wait, it was a rhetorical question; get out of my part of town, ass. I’ve been plenty generous by letting you come this far, but our truce lasts as long as the lot of you don’t build any sandcastles on my playground and you know it. Now, scram.”

He could feel Dick’s reticence at leaving without what he came here for, but Oracle must be talking him into letting it be for tonight, because he didn't push. Jason turned just in the right moment to catch the way Dick looked down to his gloved hand, as if expecting the lifeless red string to be pulled taunt in Tim’s direction by some miracle. Jason felt the smallest ping of pity, quickly washed away by the memory of the younger hero’s haunted eyes as he told Jason the story of his severed soul bond and how he came to do it.

Thirty seconds after the bat vanished into the night, a little red bird landed softly on the spot next to him.

“Thanks, Hood”, he muttered, just as tired and hurting as he’d been ever since he saved Jason’s ass and they became partners, but with the smallest hint of lightness that made him prouder of driving Dick away than he’d ever been.

“Don’t mention it, but fair warning, the big B scomin back home in a few days, and he’s harder to kick out than a hurting, annoying bluebird.”

“I know”, Tim sighed, well aware of both facts. “I’ll play it by ear. For tonight, what about bashing some skulls and ruining Two Face’s new op? Good intel says it’s just a few blocks from here, and shattering bones always makes you smile.”

“Babybird, you speak the language of love.”

“Wasn’t that french?”

“I’m trying to compliment you, don’t be a smart ass about it.”

“I am smart, and I do have a good ass. That seems like an impossible request.”

----.----

[danny-chase]

Dick Grayson Week Day 4

Prompt: Bruce hits Dick and doesn’t get away with it

Summary/Notes:

A Spyral fixit where the family finds out about Nightwing 30. Perspectives are from Tim and Jason, but Steph, Cass, and Damian make an appearance. Quotes taken from Forever Evil 7 and 8, and Nightwing 30. Tw for swearing, angst and domestic/child abuse (because canon is terrible and I can’t leave it the way it is).

Edit: I have an AO3 account now yay! Read here

“I’ll be right back.” Tim chirped as he left to pull some files out of his room. He could feel his friends’ gazes lingering on him as he left. He had to suppress an eye roll. He was fine. Your pseudo-dad/adopted-father-before-you-emancipated-yourself loses his memory and suddenly everyone thinks there’s something wrong with you. Figures. Bruce was happier this way. And maybe, one day, he’d be able to get to know him again. Maybe not as sorta-father and son. But Bruce 2.0 liked volunteering with kids, running charity events. Maybe they could be business partners, or coworkers. It wasn’t like last time. But that didn’t mean Cassie, Bart and Kon weren’t worried. No matter how many times he tried to explain, they wouldn’t listen. It was better this way. Bruce was happier without them. Without him. It stung at first sure, but he was over it. He could handle it. Even if the knot in his stomach told him otherwise.

His fingers brushed the lines on the hallway as he strode through Titan’s Tower. The halls seemed so much smaller than they used to be. Logically, he knew they were the same size. But they weren’t the same walls as when he’d first visited. And those hadn’t even been the first wall either. “We’ve had to rebuild this place like at least a million times.” Dick had told him. The knot tightened. Don’t think about it, he reprimanded himself. He’d been having a nice afternoon. It was relaxing, staying with his friends. But he couldn’t walk through the halls without feeling like a trespasser. This was Dick’s team. This was his home away from home. Who was he kidding? He was no Dick Grayson. Dick’s friends used to look to him for guidance, for advice, for help with problems, personal and business related. Tim used to look to him for guidance, advice and help. Stop thinking about him, he tried again. Forget the Crime Syndicate. Forget the funeral. Don’t stress, repress. He paused for a moment, stared aimlessly out the window, took a few deep breaths, cleared his mind and continued on his way.

Climbing the stairs, he decided it was better to use his mental faculties to go through the case he was working on. Jason had called two days ago asking about some of his old informants in Gotham, Penguin was apparently moving back onto the scene and reorganizing the structure of some of the newer gangs. Cleaning house. Informants were switching names, following their own protocols. Bruce had written some contingency in a classified file somewhere. The issue was where. The damn batcomputer had like a billion files on it. And Barbara knew the system, but was busy coordinating for the JLA and had put them on “Do not Disturb” mode for the foreseeable future. He could write a program to search for it. Stupid Bruce and his stupid files that he’d kept secret from them. “It was on a need to know basis.” He could almost here the defensiveness in Bruce’s voice if he tried hard enough. He nearly face planted as he miscalculated the number of stairs. Maybe they should just go back to their old Young Justice base. Or wait till the building inevitably explodes again and just make it better. That would be fun. Designing a Teen Titans base with slides and escalators. Bart would be thrilled. Bart could probably build it in 5 minutes. Dick wouldn’t approve, his brain felt the need to remind him. Tim nearly huffed. Well Dick is de-.

He abruptly lost his train of thought. There was noise coming from his room. Someone was sniffing, was someone crying in his room? Who was even in his room? Everyone was downstairs. Cissie and Steph were visiting in the lounge, Greta left a few days ago, the new kids were in the gym getting a feel for the equipment. The hell? His heart pounded a bit louder as he silently slunk towards his rooms. If Dick decided to haunt him from beyond the grave this was not cool. The lights flickered. Tim nearly screamed. He could feel cold sweat gathering in his palms, his heart racing, thoughts pounding in his skull. It’s just one of Bart’s pranks, no one can get in without access. He slid next to his door and pulled up the camera feed on his glove’s embedded computer. They weren’t in lockdown, but it couldn’t hurt to check. Few clicks here, few taps there and…Damian? Tim burst through the door, half relieved and fully confused.

“What are you doing here?” Tim half yelled, Damian startling on the bed as he burst into his room. Tim flicked the lights on as the gremlin crossed his arms in response. Tim shut the soundproof door, no need to bother Kon with this.

“I was given access to the tower as well.” He stated monotonously. Tim frowned; something was off. Damian didn’t just show up in his room. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen the kid in weeks. Not since Bruce went all amnesiac on them. Where was he even staying. Damian shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. There were dark circles under his eyes, he was paler than usual, but flushed, his eyes bright. Had he been crying in here? “Quit gawking at me, Drake.” He spat, jolting Tim back into reality.

He almost opened his mouth to throw some insult back. Almost. He saw the kid’s lip tremble just so slightly, and he bit his tongue. The kid’s hands were shaking. “What’s up?” He replied cautiously. Keeping the demon brat in line wasn’t in his job description. But the kid had had a rough couple months. Dying, coming back to Dick being dead, Bruce losing his memory. He could help with whatever this was and-

“Grayson is alive.”

-send the kid back to Alfred, he knew the kid better than he did. He had his pets at the manor to keep him company, maybe he’d see if Jon would be willing to have a sleepover or something. Spring break was coming up soon, maybe he could take a trip out to Kansas-

“Drake!” Damian was waving a hand in front of his face. Tim blinked a few times. He hadn’t said…had he? That wasn’t right Dick was-

“Richard is alive, I can prove it.” There was desperation in the kid’s voice, water in his eyes. The trash can was filled with tissues, it had been empty when he left. His shirt was on inside out. Tim inhaled sharply. Fuck. Tim had been there. He’d done that. Denied reality. Gone on a wild fairy tale goose chase. Chased insane dreams. Sure, it had worked. But this was different. They had a body. We had a body then, his mind helpfully supplied. There was no real evidence. It had worked hadn’t it? Denying Bruce’s death out of reality? But Dick couldn’t be alive. Bruce had seen him die. Clark saw Bruce die, his brain again helpfully supplied. Tim studied Damian’s face carefully. He looked two steps away from a mental breakdown. Was that how I looked? He wasn’t exactly looking in any mirrors at the time. Dick had try to talk him back down, that was the wrong move. He’d doubled down. But Damian wasn’t him and Tim had no idea what to do. Damian stared at him, studying his face carefully. Tim could feel his palms sweating again, when had he started clenching his fists? His brain was ticking through options, tell Damian he believed him – high chance of heartbreak, low chance of kid running off and doing something stupid on his own. Try and talk him down – still some heartbreak, but can mitigate, medium to high chance of him running off. Call Alfred – should he really do that though? The kid came to him. Alfred’s busy dealing with amnesiac Bruce. Call someone else? Why did the kid come to him in the first place? Damian hated him, he wouldn’t come to him unless he was really sure, or really desperate. Does he think I can replicate what happened with Bruce? Time seemed to move like molasses. Tim swallowed. Now or never.

“I believe you.” He replied. Damian’s eyebrows furrowed, but his shoulders fell ever so slightly, and he rocked back on his heels, uncrossing his arms and leaning into a less defensive stance. Mixed results. He prayed he sounded convincing enough. If he was going this route, he had to go all the way. It didn’t matter that he’d seen the body. It didn’t matter that Bruce saw. He needed to be on Damian’s side with this one. Just like he’d needed somebody on his side back then. Even if it was a crazy side. Even if it was a leave everyone behind and run around on a whim side. Even if it doesn’t work out, at least the kid would have someone to catch him at the end. Why did it have to be the brat though?

“You do not. But you will.” Damian said solemnly, a bit of an edge to his voice. He pulled a laptop out of a bag on the floor and hopped up on the foot of Tim’s bed. Tim quietly settled next to him, careful to not touch him. He was careful. The kid didn’t appear to be looking for a fight, but you never know. Tim glanced at the laptop screen.

“DAMIAN NO WHAT THE-” He screamed. Damian nearly leapt of the bed. His face turned red.

“-tt- Grow up Drake, this is for research purposes only, that is not-” He started mumbling.

“You’re on DICK GRAYSON THIRST POST WEBSITES for RESEARCH!” Tim half screamed, attempting to lower his voice. Damian flushed harder.

“SHUT UP DRAKE!” He countered. Tim took deep breaths. Dear god, he needed to bleach his eyes after this. He did not need to know these threads existed. Fucking reddit. Humanity has gone too far. There were 20k followers. He peeked over again, the latest posts were from this morning. His mouth was dry. These people were lusting over his dead brother. It was sick, it was fucking disgusting it was-

“Wait what’s that picture?” Tim asked.

“-tt- If you would allow me to explain instead of losing your head, I can show you.” Damian grumbled. He clicked on the picture to enlarge it. “I’ve run the calculations, biometrically, the body shape is a 99.97% match.” Tim let out a low whistle. It wasn’t much to go on. You couldn’t see the figure’s face, he was turned away from the camera. Whoever took it was definitely aiming for a certain portion of the man’s body.

“Have you talked to the poster?” Tim inquired. Damian nodded.

“This subreddit is dedicated to…” Damian made a revolted looking face, “capturing casual images of Grayson in unsavory positions.” He nearly squirmed as he finished the sentence. “I was attempting to research the details of Grayson’s perceived passing and came across this website.” That was a different kind of trauma in Tim’s opinion. “The image caught my eye. He has fans in Ireland, that is where it was taken. These fans are apparently experts at picking him out.” Damian scrolled through some earlier posts to prove his point. “It is odd.” He added pointedly. Tim’s mind was racing. It was hardly evidence. It could have been anyone. But he was right. The perverts were good. They even had a few of Dick in disguise doing undercover work, none of his face of course. But Dick couldn’t be in Ireland. Tim went to the funeral. Bruce went to the funeral. Bruce saw Dick die. Bruce wouldn’t lie about something like that. He never told you about the Joker. His mind supplied. No. Bruce wouldn’t. Bruce couldn’t. He wouldn’t put them through that grief. Not after Damian. Not after all the lies. He promised he wouldn’t lie to them like that. The picture couldn’t be real. But Damian kept scrolling. There were more. In multiple countries. It couldn’t be possible. There was no way. People joked his brother’s butt was iconic but this was ridiculous.

“Drake?” Damian sounded so cautious. Tim was confused. The pictures all looked so real. So accurate. Could they be photoshopped? That could explain it.

“Did you get any of the original files?” He asked much too hastily to appear calm. A smile flicked on Damian’s face for a millisecond.

“You believe me.” Damian stated, half disbelievingly. Tim bit his lip. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t. If he did, then he didn’t believe Bruce. Damian cleared his throat. “I have already examined a few of the original photographs. Their phones were laughably easy to hack.” He looked smug for a mentally unhinged eleven-year-old. “They do not appear to be tampered with.” Tim could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Dick couldn’t be alive. It wasn’t possible. He saw the body. Bruce was in the cave for a week going over it. Not allowing anyone in. No… Fuck…

“What did you do?” He muttered under his breath. Damian looked at him inquisitively, a determination burning in his eyes. Tim hadn’t seen any of the proof himself. And he believed Bruce unquestioningly. That was the opposite of what the man had taught him. But there was still something off. He looked searchingly at Damian. “Dick wouldn’t do that to us.” He couldn’t. Dick would never do something like that. He would tell them. He wasn’t like Bruce, he was reliable. Dick didn’t keep secrets like that. He wouldn’t fake his own death and leave them to fend for themselves. Not after Damian died. After everything they’d lost, after everything he’d lost. Dick wouldn’t do that to him. Damian’s eyes flickered toward the ground, and he frowned.

“Maybe he can’t tell us.” Is all he had to offer. It seemed like a sore spot. Tim didn’t push it. It was probably driving the kid insane. Dick, galivanting across the world, not checking in, not coming back to tell them he was okay? The odds were astronomically low. Dick was a constant. He was their brother. He was a Robin. Robins don’t do that to each other. Steph did, his brain helpfully supplied. But that wasn’t Steph’s fault. Tim dug his nails into his palms. He needed to know. He needed proof. He needed to see the footage, go over the evidence. He didn’t doubt Dick, but his mind was itching. He wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he knew for sure. Hell, Damian probably couldn’t either.

“Look, here’s the plan.” Tim said, his mind racing. Damian stared at him intently. Wow the kid really was desperate if he was willing to listen to him. “I’ll tell Kon I’m taking you home, that you need some help on a case, then will slip out. Maybe, maybe someone close to the family is compromised.” He said, a bit unsure. That could explain the lie. If there was one. Please let there be one. Damian nodded, stuffing his laptop back into his backpack. Tim crossed the room and grabbed the door handle.

A barely audible “Thanks.” reached his ears as he flipped off the lights.

  Jason groaned as he checked his messages. He really didn’t want to go through the batcomputer files. It would be faster if Tim did it, plus he had a lower chance of accidentally messing something up. Not that the file system wasn’t already a disaster. Touch the wrong button and you’re locked in the cave till Alfred realizes something’s wrong.

Tim had stopped responding to his messages two days ago, and well, he couldn’t wait any longer. And so, he found himself zipping through the tunnel systems that led into the cave. It was better to avoid the manner if possible. Happy Bruce wasn’t high on the list of people he wanted to see. That dude was fucking weird. It made him feel weird. It did feel good to cross amnesia off his yearly family bingo though. Now he just needed someone to trip during an interview and he’d break Cass’s winning streak. At the rate they were checking things off, maybe he should start a second batch and make it biannual. That or change the prompts. They were getting predictable.

He rolled to a stop inside the cave, and nearly rolled his eyes seeing the mess of skid marks on the floor. Seriously, tires are expensive, why his siblings couldn’t park like normal human beings was beyond him.

Someone was clacking away on the upper platform. Oh, thank God Tim was probably here, figuring it out before he could mess everything up. Cass poked her head over the railing, Jason cocked an eyebrow at her as he removed his helmet. She grinned and jumped over it, catching the fireman’s pole and sliding down. Someone was going to break an ankle doing that, could he add that to the bingo cards? Stupid non-work related injury was already on there, maybe upgrading it to stupid broken bone would suffice. Dick broke his nose outside Denny’s at 3am last year during a post mission party. Hands down one of the best nights of Jason’s life. Too bad his family members decided to die at least once a year.

“I’m about to win bingo.” Cass whispered as she brushed past his shoulder. That jolted Jason out of his bittersweet thoughts.

“Bullshit.” He growled back, bingo was his this year. She smugly wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry brother.” She said sweetly, leaning her head into his shoulder. She let out a long sigh. And then Jason finally remembered that it most the squares weren’t exactly fun.

“Wait, the fuck’s going on?” Fuck, he really didn’t want to deal with this right now. Nobody could have died Dick checked that off, amnesia was gone, Gotham destroyed was gone, natural disaster was checked, Joker breaks out and does dramatic shit was gone too. But that wasn’t a good sigh, that was a ‘I’m so tired of this family sigh’, which could narrow it down a bit. Cass squeezed his shoulder.

“Family secrets.” She admitted, giving him a melancholy look. Jason groaned. This family was the fucking worst. Bruce wasn’t even really part of it right now, who the hell was keeping secrets? Damian. Had to be Damian. Little monster was just like his dad. Fuck. Dick taught the kid better than that. What kind of mess was he in?

Cass took him by the wrist and started dragging him towards the stairs. He resisted briefly as they got to the base. He needed to know. “Who’s is it?” He asked, planting his feet on the ground.

Cass bit her lip, looking extremely uncomfortable. Jason pulled back his arms and crossed them, keeping his expression as neutral as he could, but she could probably read his mood anyways.

“HA. HAHAHA HA. FUCK YOU BRUCE! TAKE THAT SHIT-COMPUTER!”

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin at Tim’s screeching from upstairs, Cass was running up the stairs, not waiting to see if he was coming. Jason sighed. It was going to be on of those days. He took a deep breath and headed up behind her.

Tim was doing a victory dance in front of the computer. Damian was crawling out from under the computer, a shit eating grin on his face. They both looked (and smelled) a mess. Definitely neither had showered in a few days, probably hadn’t slept either.

“Todd, you are just in time to witness our victory over father.” Damian greeted, formal as ever. The brat didn’t even through an insult in there. Must be in a good mood. Well that at least explained who was keeping secrets. Stupid Bruce, keeping secrets even while an amnesiac. Screw him.

“Shall we?” Tim asked, offering a hand to Damian, which shockingly the kid took. The fuck did he miss?!?

“Uh, what the fuck?” He managed to get out. There was cowl footage pulled up on the screen. Cass was pulling chairs over from the table. He tiredly took the seat she offered him.

“Waaaaiiiiiit I have popcorn!” Steph called, pounding down the stairs.

“Steph no!” Tim moaned. “This isn’t a joke!”

“What’s family drama without popcorn?” Steph sung back. Damian huffed. Cass snickered. Jason had to smirk to himself. Dark humor was the best coping mechanism in this family. “Besides you haven’t told us what this is!” She accused. Well at least Jason wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. Tim shifted guilty at the computer, his eyes darting from Damian and then back to the group. Damian responded by huffing and crossing his arms.

“Drake did not ‘want to get your hopes up’.” He began, mimicking Tim’s voice perfectly, “-tt-His concern is unfounded, my research has been impeccable, Gr-” Tim shoved a hand over Damian’s mouth. Damian looked downright murderous.

“Look we want to watch the footage beforehand it might be-” Tim squawked as Cass lunged off the table, hopped over his shoulders and hit play on the batcomputer. “Cass wait!” He got out as the video began to play. Steph grabbed Tim from behind and dragged him into a seat.

The screen showed footage from a first-person perspective, they were walking through a doorway into a large room.

“I’m tired of secrets.” Muttered Cass as she slipped in a chair next to Steph. Damian staid standing, glaring intensely at the screen, looking strangely anguished.

“Hey, kid you can…” The invitation died in his throat. The camera moved forward into the room, revealing a beaten Dick Grayson in the center, hooked to countless machines, suspended in a metal cocoon, only his face and chest peeking out.

“Oh my God.” Came a familiar voice from the screen. A growl reverberated in the cave.

“Well Batman…” Luthor materialized on the right, “…You’ve found Nightwing.” He said, stalking forward.

Something clattered on the floor. The camera was rushing forward. Voices from the cave mixed with voices on the screen.

“Why would you want to watch this!?” shrieked Steph.

“Dick? Everything’s going to be all right. I’m here.” Bruce’s gruff voice sounded oddly strained.

“Shut up Brown!” Came Damian in a high-pitched voice.

“He never showed us the evidence.” Tim’s voice squeaked. “We have to watch till the end?”

“I’m sorry I shut you out. All of you. I didn’t want you getting hurt…I’m going to get you out of this.” Came Bruce’s shaking voice. Jason could feel a lump growing in his throat. He didn’t want to see this.

“Fast-forward?” Cass suggested, her voice equally shaken. Jason could barely see the others in the cave, his eyes were glued to the screen.

“No…You need to…leave.” Came Dick’s horse whisper of a voice. “You need to go…”

Damian made an inhuman noise, which allowed Jason to tear his eyes off the screen.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Muttered Tim. “We can’t fast-forward we need to know what happened.” He forced a sense of determination into his voice. “This is why I didn’t-”

THOOM. The sound rumbled through the cave. Jason jumped out of his seat. The camera whipped around revealing the exit sealed off, with Luthor, Selina, and Bizzarro trapped inside.

“-you guys can still leave.” Tim said shakily.

BA-DEEP. Blared through the speakers. BA-DEEP.

“What is that?” Came Selina’s voice, her usual smooth and silky persona dropped. BA-DEEP.

“It’s a countdown. This isn’t just a fancy pair of handcuffs, Catwoman. It’s a bomb.” Came Lex’s gruff voice. The camera turned again showing a timer counting down from 5 minutes. Jason’s stomach painfully twisted at the reminder of another countdown in another sealed building.

“We’re staying.” He managed to get out. He might have heard noises of affirmation.

WHAM. “The door. The walls. Why can’t we break through them?” Came Luthor’s voice.

“This cell was designed to hold Doomsday, Luthor.” Came Bruce’s voice again. The camera showed him messing with the panel. BA-DEEP.

“Is the countdown monitoring his heart?” Selina asked from seemingly far away.

“Yes.” Boomed Bruce’s voice. BA-DEEP.

“Why?” Replied Selina.

“The detonator is hooked into it.” Bruce responded. Jason’s heart sunk. “He died in a death trap. There was no way out.” Bruce had told him before the funeral. BA-DEEP.

“Batman…The bomb…” Dick whispered. BA-DEEP. Jason spared another glance at Damian. There were tears beginning to form in his eyes, but he stared, glued to the screen all the same. “…It only disams…If my heart stops.” Jason could feel his chest tightening painfully. “I die…or we all die.” BA-DEEP.

“Maybe Bruce had a reason for not showing this to us.” Steph said shakily. Jason glanced over. She looked green. Her sleave and eyes were both wet. The sounds of the heart monitor echoed in the cave.

BA-DEEP. “Please…Listen to me…” Dick’s horse voice started again. Tim was muttering frantically to himself. “You still have time to get yourself out of here.” The camera was so close. Jason could see every cut on his brother’s face, could see the sweat on his brow, the blood trickling down from his nose.

BA-DEEP. “I am not leaving you, Dick. I am not abandoning you.” Bruce sounded much more confident that Jason felt. Too bad Bruce didn’t sound confident.

“You aren’t Bruce. And you never have.” Dick replied. Jason’s vision was blurring. All he wanted was some stupid computer files. He didn’t come to the cave to watch this.

BA-DEEP. “The only way we’re getting out of here is together…No…The wires…” Jason dug his fingernails into his palms. “…Every time I disconnect a relay, it fixes itself.” Jason bit his lip.

BA-DEEP. At some point those in the caves had gone silent. “Then there’s only one way to disarm this bomb, Batman.” Came Luthor’s voice. The video jolted violently and Bruce’s cry reverberated through the cave. Chaos erupted on the screen. A cacophony associated with their customary brand of violence echoed through the speakers, obscuring some of the voices.

BA-DEEP. “I’m saving our lives.” Jason made out. The screen was black. Jason glanced around the room. Everyone was tense. Damian was crying. Tim looked horrified. Cass was perfectly still, her expression blank. Steph looked one step away from throwing up in the empty popcorn bowl that lie on the ground at her feet.

BA-DEEP. The camera was moving again. “LUTHOR.” Boomed Bruce’s voice again. Jason caught a glimpse of the man pressing a hand over Dick’s face. “LUTHOR, YOU HURT HIM AND I WILL KILL YOU.” Cass let out the faintest gasp. Bruce wasn’t lying. How the hell was Luthor still alive? The heart monitor was stuttering. BA-DEEEEEP

“Nonononononononononono.” Came Tim’s voice. “It wasn’t supposed to-”

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“DICK.” Screamed Bruce. The camera rushed forward.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“NO!” Yelled Bruce and Tim at the same time. Damian had sunk to the floor.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

A fist kept pounding Luthor in the face relentlessly. “Batman, wait-” Luthor pleaded. This was not how Jason had wanted Bruce to break his code.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“YOU MURDERER!” Screeched Bruce, righteous fury echoing in his voice. The heart monitor cut off. A hand reached down to cut off Luthor’s windpipe.

“I have this…” Came Luthor’s strangled voice. He looked terrified. “Under control…Grayson…” The hand squeezed harder. “-kk-!” The man chocked. Bruce lessened up slightly. “It’s not too late, you idiot.” Spat Luthor. Bruce was apparently passed the point of listening.

“YOU MURDERED NIGHTWING.” He growled, tightening his grip once more. Luthor was going bug eyed. The man was going to actually die if Bruce pushed it much harded.

“Batman-” Came Selina’s voice.

“Luthor killed Dick, Selina.” Bruce said, his voice strangled.

“You said this lightning rod was from the future! Maybe we can use it to save him or something? I don’t know-!” She cried desperately.

A flash of light and crackle of electricity resounded through the cave. The screen went black for a moment.

Jason could hear metal clinking on the floor.

“Why are we still watching this?” Jason asked hoarsely. Tim looked at him palely.

“I need to know what happened next.” He whispered.

“If I hadn’t stopped Grayson’s heart, this ‘Murder Machine’ would have detonated and we all would have died. I had to make a choice, Batman. I made him flatline…after I forced him to swallow a cardioplegia pill.” The camera slowly tilted back up to focus on Luthor.

“A what?” Asked Steph and Selina at the same time.

“A drug that paralyzes the cardiac muscles surrounding the heart.” Replied Tim and Bruce in sync.

“Then…” Trailed off Damian. The boy looked up hopefully at the screen.

“And if this boy’s heart doesn’t get a shot of adrenaline right this very second he’s going to stay dead.” Luthor finished.

*kaff*

That small cough was the best sound Jason had heard in his entire life.

“YES!” Shouted Tim.

Damian swallowed. “As I expected.” He said shakily. No one called him out on it.

“Dick?” Came Bruce’s voice from the screen.

“Batman?” Dick’s wobbly voice whispered.

Cass tackled Steph into a bear hug, and Steph laughed widely as they clattered to the floor. Jason just sighed deeply and let his head drop into his hands in relief.

“Drake-” gasped Damian, “-get off.”

“You were right! Damian was right! Dick’s alive. HAHA Dick’s ALIVE!” Jason glanced up to see Tim squeezing the crap out of Damian who was going slightly blue in the face. There were words coming from the speakers still but they fell to the wayside in the celebration. Jason walked over and turned the volume down.

“I’m going to kill them.” Jason muttered under his breath. But he’d save that for later, for now, he just paced back to his chair and sunk into it. The cave was quiet for a few minutes, Dick and Bruce continued on whatever the fuck adventure they were on was. The rest of the video was a blur. By the end, Jason’s racing heart had settled, and the kids had stopped clinging to each other.

“But wait.” Said Steph as the video ended. “If Dick’s alive, where is he? How did you even know to look?”

Jason turned to see Tim babbling. “Well I have a few theories, we recovered more footage as well, you know? Like Damian found pictures of him all across the world so like, we don’t know for certain where he is, but like I don’t know for sure what happened, but maybe someone was compromised so like, he had to stay hidden or like…” Tim continued babbling as the next video began to play. It was once again footage from the cowl. “Bruce shut off all the camera’s in the cave for the next week, I thought he was sulking but like we were able to find some cowl footage that he deleted, and like hopefully from that we can figure out what happened and how to track him down-”

“Turn up the volume.” Demanded Cass from her seat. She was looking at the screen with an odd expression. Damian moved without hesitation. Jason’s eyes followed up to the screen. Dick was glaring into the camera his fists raised and wrapped.

“So, one more time Dick. But now there’s only one rule…You have to win.” Came Bruce’s gruff voice. The pair was in the cave. Dick lunged towards the camera. “You let the crime syndicate capture you. Let them torture you. You let them give your secrets to the world.” Bruce accused.

“Bruce man, what the fuck!” Steph yelled, masking Dick’s response.

Bruce continued “You let them turn you into a bomb. You let them kill you. Before Luthor rescued you, you let everyone WATCH YOU DIE.” He boomed.

“YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” Jason bellowed, knocking over his chair as he stood. He walked away from the screen. Only fucking Bruce. Only fucking Bruce would blame someone for their death. Jason knew that all too well. He walked away from the screen, giving himself distance to clear his head.”

“I trained you to LIVE, and I watched you DIE!” CRACK. Jason flipped around to see Bruce elbow Dick in the face, drawing blood. Bruce’s words cut like a knife. It wasn’t Jason’s fault he died. It wasn’t Dick’s fault either. Neither Steph’s or Damian’s. Damian had unconsciously taken cover behind Tim, who was standing between Damian and the screen with an arm hovering over the kid’s shoulder.

“WHAT THE FUCK BRUCE!” Screamed Steph at the screen, she was also on her feet at this point. Only Cass’s hand prevented her from trying to fight the digital apparition. “WE DON’T JUST GO AROUND DYING WILLY NILLY, IT’S NOT MY-, IT’S NOT HIS FAULT!” Her voice shrilly echoed around the cave, drowning out the audio temporarily.

Dick was on his knees, wiping his bloody nose, looking up confused. WHACK. A powerful kick sent him flying off the platform, crashing into a costume display case. “I have a mission for you, Dick. I need you to do something that will hurt your friends. Your family.” Bruce commanded. He could hear Damian inhale sharply. Tim stopped hovering and pulled Damian tightly into his chest, rushing forward to pause the video, with the boy in tow. His hand was over the button before Cass sprung forward and grabbed his wrist. Jason had never seen Cass look this angry without the mask.

“I deserve to know.” She said with conviction, anger deep in her voice. “I deserve to know what kind of father he is.” She spat. Jason wasn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole.

“But he shouldn’t, I mean I don’t know if, I mean I don’t know what, I mean-” Tim sputtered glancing from the screen to Damian and back again.

“I want to know the truth.” Came Damian’s tiny reply. He looked so young, he pushed away from Tim’s chest, but leaned into his side.

Cass pulled Tim’s hand back. “I fought him once.” She admitted. “I need to know.” She repeated.

Tim looked at her pleadingly. Bruce and Dick raged at each other on screen. Blood flowed from the cuts on Dick’s back. “I…I…” Tim stammered.

“We all deserve to know.” Steph piped up, leaning against the side of the computer.

“Fight like you’re alive!” Bruce yelled on the screen. CRACK. An oversized die broke on impact with the back of Dick’s head. Dick retaliated, throwing a question mark back.

The words were blurring in Jason’s head, his rage clouding his thoughts, and overtaking his senses. The rest of the world was disappearing, leaving only the screen behind. His vision tunneled. He crossed his arms as tightly as he could, willing himself to stay in place. Stay calm. His hearing cut out. But he could still read his name on his brother’s lips just before Bruce delivered an uppercut powerful enough to knock Dick off the dinosaur.

The next thing Jason knew Cass was sitting on him. People were yelling at him.

“-on’t break the screen-”

“-up I need to see-”

“-op fighting-”

Cass smiled apologetically before tapping a pressure point. Jason allowed himself to fade into the darkness.

 He came to in a medical bay of the cave, with an intense desire to get out. This place was cursed. He needed out, he needed to think, he needed to process, but he needed to get out. He pushed himself up and swung his legs off the bed.

“Wait.” Came a voice from behind him. He spun off the bed to see Tim, awkwardly standing on the other side of the cot. Jason edged towards the door. “We know where he is.” Tim offered. Jason glanced at Tim, and back to the door.

“Can we talk somewhere else?” He asked quietly. He didn’t want to be in the cave for this. Tim awkwardly bobbed side to side.

“Uh about that. We’re moving out.” He said quickly. Jason opened the door.

“OMGIT’SREDHOODHIMR.REDHOODSIRPLEASEDON’TKILLTIM-”

Jason slammed the door in the kid’s face. He stared at Tim, who was banging his head into the wall with a hand covering his eyes.

“Do I even want to know?” Jason asked. Tim groaned.

“I called my team to help us move out, we’re going to use the bunker for Gotham operations from now on.” Tim explained. A loud crash came from outside. The door whipped open.

“Heythegiantpennyisn’t-” The kid started. Jason growled at him. “-nevermindbyebye.” The speedster zipped away and slammed the door.

“You decided this without me?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow at Tim. Tim looked back at him sheepishly.

“You’re already out voted. Besides you really want to stay here?” He replied evenly. Jason shrugged, that was fair. He’d already tried to leave. “I know you said you don’t want to talk here, but I don’t know when I’ll get you alone again.” Jason sighed. That’s valid, he was planning on avoiding the family for a bit. “Please don’t pull a disappearing act.” Jason looked up at him.

“Why not?” He challenged.

“We don’t need Bruce to be a family.” Tim replied. It sounded rehearsed. That was also fair. “And we need each other too. We found some communications from Dick, Bruce left him stranded when he got amnesia, he’s coming back in a few days.” Jason couldn’t look Tim in the eye anymore.

“I don’t know what to do.” He said honestly, looking at Tim’s shoes. What do you say after something like this? After watching something like that. After knowing the truth.

“Neither do we, but we’ll figure it out together.” Tim offered. He looked sad, tired, his face fell before he spoke again. “He…he misses us.” He spoke softly. “On the recordings. I, I don’t think Bruce even told him about Damian.” Jason swore softly under his breath. Bruce was one fucking piece of work.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Jason said after a moment, catching Tim’s eye once more.

Tim shook his head. “The rest of the tape was mostly the same.” He said quietly. “He won.” He added as an afterthought. Jason snorted. Tim gave a warry smile. None of them ever won. Not in the ways they wanted to. Only when the prizes were more pain, more guilt, more heartbreak.

Jason leaned back against the wall. How was this the way things ended up? Was Bruce always this cruel? The man was unrecognizable to Jason. It was inexcusable. After Willis? After Cain? After Brown? Hell, even Tim’s father was emotionally abusive before he died. Why couldn’t any of them have a normal father? A stable parental relationship. It wasn’t fair. And it hurt more because he didn’t even know where it started. Bruce had been a good father to him. Had that been a lie? He’d never looked to closely at why Dick had left home, could it be that…that…? Had Jason missed something like this? Would he ever even know what he’d missed? They didn’t have as many cameras back then.

Tim had crossed the room and put a hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be okay.” He said confidently. “As long as we have each other, we’ll all be okay.” Tim squeezed his shoulder gently before disappearing through the door into the chaos that used to be his childhood fantasy. When had it all gone so wrong, he had to ask himself. He hated that he knew the answer. His death was this fucking family’s original sin. But you know what, that wasn’t his fault. Even if it felt like it. Even if Bruce still blamed him. Dick didn’t look at him like a ghost, he didn’t look at him like a kid in over his head, like a regret, like a mistake. It was time for Bruce to grow the hell up and move on. Bad experiences don’t justify beating your kids. Maybe from here, they could move on. Maybe from here on, they could heal. Maybe they could start over. Maybe they could make their own new family. Bruce had abused them, lied to them, manipulated them enough. It was time to rise from the ashes like a phoenix and fly again. He wouldn’t know unless he tried. He didn’t have to give up on Gotham. But maybe it was time to give up on Bruce.

Jason swung open the door, descending into a future unknown, diverging from the circle of heartache and abuse. He had broken the cycle once before, on his own, with a new family made of friends, one of his choosing. And now he chose to break it once more, and this time he resolved not to leave his siblings behind.

[elareine]

May I pls pls ask for a Jaydick soulmate AU? I really liked the red string thingy! Maybe with "right to the good parts" prompt 6 and cuddling prompt 5 and/or 6?? (:

Thanks for the prompts! I love red strings of fate, so this was fun. 

Cassandra Cain had many ways to see. The red strings were just one small part of her abilities, but one that she treasured. Looking at her finger, knowing that she would be able to find Steph wherever she was—it gave a feeling of security, of belonging, that she’d seldom experienced before.

Her family… that was another matter.

Her heart ached for them. She wanted to tell Jason that even if he had lost his best friend, lost his family, there was someone out there just for him. Everything in her was tempted to tell Tim that his soulmate was closeby to ease his loneliness and fear of rejection. Damian—he needed to know that he was worthy of love. Babs was so strong, the strongest person Cass knew, but she deserved to have the same comfort Cass did. And Bruce.

Oh, Bruce.

Dick, however… he was more challenging to figure out. For as long as Cass had watched him, his string had led into the distance, slackening and tightening in turn. It was uniquely alive. Occasionally, there would just be a movement, a tug, as if Dick was willing his string to go toward the person he was with.

It never worked. It took until a quiet day in the cave for Cass to understand why.

“So, yeah,” Jason was saying. “I decided to start at Gotham U. Got accepted into English Lit and Criminology.”

Dick beamed and moved in for a hug. “Little Wing, I’m so happy for you.”

“Uh, thanks.” There was a faint blush on Jason’s cheeks, and Cass knew why.

Normally, Dick would’ve let go by now. He was still holding on to Jason, looking a little lost, as if this was everything and he couldn’t figure out why it felt so good.

Cass held her breath. Jason didn’t pull him closer, exactly, but he wasn’t pushing him away, either. She could read the tension in his every line. However, he didn’t relax when Dick finally extracted himself—if anything, he was tenser when they weren’t touching.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw their strings move as if they were contracting, pulling in… or maybe shortening?

This would need watching. She didn’t want her brothers to get hurt, even if there was very little she could do to protect them.

The next opportunity to watch the two of them came months later. They—Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin, and she—were working together with the usual amount of bickering when they had to wait for a postponed shipment in an abandoned warehouse on the top of a mountain without electricity.

She and Tim had given into the inevitable snuggling for warmth and comfort without a fuss. They didn’t need it, but why not take what was on offer when it made for a better night? Dick pressed up to the Cass’ other side immediately. Jason, though, kept himself apart.

One day, she swore to herself, they would convince him that he was always welcome. Brother needed to know.

She had been sleeping for hours when the sound of something heavy dragging along the floor woke her up. Dick shifted against her, making room to accommodate Jason.

“Just for warmth,” she heard Jason whisper. It made Cass want to hit him on the back of the head—stupid men with their stupid inability to show feelings—but then Jason would move away, and Dick would look sad. So she pretended to be asleep and left them to it.

Something must have happened that night. The next morning, Cass could see their red string had shortened; so much so, in fact, that she could follow it from one end to the other, see where it bound them together.

If she were Steph or Tim, she might have interfered at that point. It would be useless, though, Cass knew. Her brothers were the type that needed to figure things out themselves, at their own pace. A push and they might balk.

In the end, her patience paid off during one sunny day in September. Steph and Tim had called it “road trip time” and sounded so excited about it, no one (well, except Damian) had had the heart to object. Dick had even found a “genuine sixties van, c’mon, Jay redid the engines, it’ll be fun!” for them.

Inevitably, a battle for the front seats ensued. Cass didn’t get why, but she participated enthusiastically and won the place of honor for her and Steph. After a few hours, though, they elected to give it up for Tim (the designated relief driver when Dick became tired) and Dami. That way, Damian could hiss his backseat driving comments in a way that the rest didn’t have to hear it.

Dick generously gave up the middle row so they could cuddle up with Babs and joined Jason in the back row. Now that Tim was driving, the music switched to something with a lot of guitars and soft voices, and the atmosphere calmed down considerably. Cass was content to drowse with her head on Steph’s shoulder until she noticed something moving.

A loop of red thread, shrinking in on itself. Cass watched it out until it had left her field of vision, then gave it a few more minutes.

Carefully, oh-so-carefully, she turned her head.

Jason and Dick—they were asleep. But not just sleeping, no; Dick was resting with his head in Jason’s lap, Jason’s fingers in his hair, their other hand linked. It was the most peaceful Cass had ever seen them. And there was the red string, almost invisible now because they were so close.

With a content sigh, Cass turned back. Two fewer people to worry about.

Tim’s eyes caught hers in the rearview mirror, and they shared a smile.

(I’m taking prompts for Easter!)

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 9

"Take Me Instead"

Ao3

Warnings: canon typical violence, major injury

-o-o-o-o-

"Well, look what the bat dragged in."

Dick resisted a wince as his back was practically stabbed with the barrel end of an assault rifle. He twisted his wrists behind his back, locked there by his own cuffs. Not for the first time, Dick felt a ping of hatred for Bruce's constant paranoia. Plans for everything, even themselves. Therefore: cuffs are batproof.

And that wasn't all, Duke kneeled beside him in the exact same situation. On his knees, guns aimed point-blank, meaty hands on his shoulders to keep him down as none other than Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, in his full get-up approached his new hostages. 

This definitely won't be good. Dick didn't know how long he could last. Crane's knack for dramatics and monologues were ear-bleedingly boring on the best of days. Dick already had a headache thanks to the lucky shot one of Crane's children-of-the-pumpkin-patch-lackeys got on him with the back of their gun. Hey, sometimes even Nightwing accidentally got hit. He's human. 

Honestly, Dick wasn't upset about being caught. Hell, he wasn't even that worried to see Scarecrow walz towards them with his dramatic scythe dragging on the floor behind him. Not even the flashing red lights of the lab they were currently in and the intruder alarms blaring put him on edge. What sent an ice cold shard of worry straight into his chest cavity was that Duke was caught also because of Dick's initial mistake. 

Duke. The guy who was still in training. Who was just barely figuring out his meta abilities. Who could fight like a bat out of hell but who has never faced Scarecrow. Duke probably didn't know what to expect with this encounter, and judging by the glances Dick could feel being shot his way by his newest brother, Duke was expecting Dick to come up with something more productive than twisting his hands in his own cuffs again. 

This was Dick's fault. He was the one who suggested Duke came with him to check out the labs built near the Fashion District. It's primary purpose was to research medicine for the brain. Things to help seizures, depression, etcetera. Which, of course, made it a prime possible target for Scarecrow whenever the villain managed to escape from Arkham. 

The thing was, these labs were already raided for it's chemicals the last time Crane escaped. Normally, the guy was a little smarter than to go to the same supply of chemicals for his fear toxin twice. Dick took Duke for this reason, because it was good to learn how Scarecrow worked before actually facing him. That, and it needed to be checked anyway. He didn't actually expect Crane to be here, let alone in full get up.

It must have been a trap. 

Well. Judging by the outcome of the circumstances, it most definitely was a trap. Crane was up to something. Something more than sending the mass population of Gotham into a fear crazed frenzy. 

Crane stopped in front of his two captives, flicking his scythe around his body with the smoothness of silk. Dick let his neck relax as the scythes blade went under his chin to lift his head. It was just a fear tactic. One that Dick wasn't falling for. Crane was using the outside of the blade where it was dulled. If he was using the inside, then Dick might have been a little on edge. 

Get it?

He stared right into the stitched eyeholes of Crane's hood. Clenched his fists behind his back. "What's up, Crane?" Dick kept his voice light and level; he even let a smile curve his lips as he spoke. The best thing you could do while dealing with Crane was remain calm and not show the slightest sign of fear. Hurt his ego. Make him sloppy. 

It didn't seem to immediately rub Crane the wrong way though. He didn't even tense. "Well, you see, I've seemed to have come across two little birdies with their little wings tied-" Ugh. Dick wanted to barf- "and now I have to decide what to do about them."

"Ah you know," Dick replied in a sing-song tone. "Could just leave us alone. Birds tend to take care of themselves."

"Hmm, I suppose." The scythe was removed from under Dick's chin, but Dick kept eye contact as Crane stepped away. "After all, everyone knows it's bad luck to keep two two birdies locked up together."

Dick really wished that Gotham's Rogues would quit it with the theatrical flair. It almost made Dick miss Blüdhaven where everything was straight to the point. The amount of monologues Dick had heard from spending the last two days alone visiting the manor could fill a novel. And at least no one in the ‘Haven called him a bird. 

"So I guess the only thing for you to do is to let us go." Dick sighed, like he was upset about it. Crane twitched and Dick couldn't help a confident smirk. "Unless you want the big bad bat to drag you back to Arkham so early into your escape. Your lackeys got lucky with us tonight, but do you really think you can take the entire clan with what you have now?" 

Crane remained silent for a moment, and Dick could practically sense Duke resisting twitching or saying anything. Which was good. Duke’s being smart. Letting the guy who's fought Crane for almost as long as Robin had existed do the talking. Dick knew how Scarecrow ticked. In the end, it was always about fear. If his victims weren’t afraid then he'd get bored. Sure, he'll also most likely use Fear Toxin, but it was obvious Crane was planning something. He normally resisted throwing around Fear Toxin willy nilly. If he had a plan, the toxin was put away until he really needed it. 

"Actually, little bird," Crane finally said, his voice deepening almost an octave. "I could have use of you. You see, I'm an expert at my craft, yet you bats always seem to not be afraid. Even when the world is trembling in terror, you bats hold strong. I don't understand it. I need to study this. Make a toxin that's impossible to resist."

"It's called an antitoxin," Dick scoffed. "No matter how many times you change the formula it's still always the base formula. Every hospital in Gotham had loads of the antitoxin."

Suddenly, Scarecrow was snarling, right up in Dick's face. Dick heard Duke swear under his breath, but Crane didn't seem to notice. He was too focused on staring through those threaded eye sockets right into Nightwing's milky lenses with narrowed, cold brown irises. 

"No," Crane hissed, "you bats have something different. You get scared, but never afraid. I've seen you cry and scream on the ground, writhing in your own terror, but you always- always stand back up. I'm tired of making formula after formula to guess what finally takes you down for good. I need a subject. I need a bat to test on instead of random people in the street."

Dick immediately felt himself tense, but he tried not to show it on his face. 

Okay. So Crane wants a human lab rat now. But not any human, a member of the very group of people he's never been able to truly defeat.

Okay. 

So this was definitely turning out badly. 

"Sorry, Jonathan, Sig and I are actually completely booked today. How bout next week? I think I can squeeze you in for, , hmm, let's say, next Tuesday?"

Scarecrow paused, tilted his head, then Dick knew he made a mistake. 

"Ah yes, the Signal." Crane turned towards the yellow clad hero and Dick was moving forward before he even registered that hands tightening on his shoulders, keeping him forced down to his knees as Crane approached Duke. "Gotham's newest little bat, only; this one likes the sun."

Dick watched as Duke squared his jaw and didn't say anything. Dick couldn't see his eyes through the helmet on his face, but he could imagine the unafraid glare Duke must be giving. 

"Hey," Dick called in an attempt to get the attention back onto himself, "we're not finished, Crane."

"Actually," Crane replied, his voice sounding excited and wistful, "I think we are."

Dick watched with a growing sense of horror and anxiety as Crane bent down and grabbed Duke by the chin, forcing Duke to bend his neck back at a painful looking angle. Duke grunted and attempted to tug his shoulders out from the grasps holding steadfast onto him. 

"Tell me, morning bird," Crane whispered just loud enough for Dick to just barely hear him. His voice was husky with excitement. "What do you fear most?"

"Crane! Leave him alone!" 

Dick went ignored as Scarecrow backed up, letting go of Duke's chin with a shove. He nodded and soon Dick was watching as Duke was hefted to his feet by the grunts behind him and held in place tightly. Dick struggled on his knees. 

"It's not Signal you're wanting, Crane, you know this!" Dick tugged on the restraining holds still on him. He tried to get his feet under him, but the men holding him down had more power over him at the moment. Dick snarled. "You've had a grudge against me since I was a kid! If there's anyone you want for this, it's me! Let him go! Take me instead!"

Dick could swear he just saw the jagged cut of a grin on Scarecrow's face widen. Sharpen. "Yes, Nightwing," Crane agreed, his tone sinister with a touch of silk. "I've always hated you. The Robin without fear. It would be a pleasure to get you finally choking on your own tears. You were always the light to his shadow. However," Crane stopped to grab Duke by the arm and drag him forward, "I'm finding myself more interested in how the day to his night will react to my toxins." 

Crane shoved Duke back to the lackeys and then shoved his scythe back under Dick's chin. "You'll have to be patient. Don't worry, whatever I create with him will be my masterpiece, and you will get a taste of it soon enough. 

Dick snarled, his gut churning at the thought of Duke being tortured for who knew how long into the future. He tried to find his feet again, throwing his body back to unbalance the holds on him and get away from the scythe both at the same time. 

This time, Dick was lucky. He managed to knock the men off him and climb to his feet. However, it was all for naught when one of the lackeys did the smart thing and hit him at the back of his skull with the butt of their gun. 

Dick saw stars, and maybe his superhero name being shouted, but all he could grasp onto was that he was on the ground now, desperately trying to get a grasp back on reality as his head screamed in pain at him. 

He just managed to focus on a blur of yellow being dragged off, but that focus only lasted a second before another blast of pain erupted on the side of his head, and he knew no more. 

-o-o-o-o-

The feeling of gravity rolled, shooting Dick from unconsciousness straight into awareness as he was flipped from his stomach onto his back. He groaned, a migraine pounding away. The side of his head felt warm and wet. He had to blink a few times to reboot his brain and remember how he got here and why he was in so much pain. 

And then, he remembered. 

He jolted, shooting up to sit up but he was immediately met with resistance via Tim's hands grabbing onto his arms. The world swirled around him—looking similar to an old album cover from the 70s. Dick shot his arms up regardless of the dizziness attacking every one of his senses and wrapped his grasp around the front of Tim's suit. 

"Signal-" Dick wheezed, tried to explain, but Tim just frowned and then began to shove Dick back to the ground, keeping his grasp on Dick's arm to pin him there. Tim was shockingly strong. Or maybe… Dick was shockingly weak. 

Dick shook his head, but it sent the 70s into the 60s and his thoughts almost slipped away like fine sand. Duke. He had to focus on Duke. He was in trouble. Had Scarecrow already tested out his first drug? Was Duke already reliving his darkest nightmares? Dick didn't know everything about Duke, but he did know that in the short time he's been a part of the family business that he's already seen so much shit. The Joker and what he did to his parents being at the top of the list. 

Dick remembered the first time the fear toxin made him relive his own parents' demise. He couldn't stop shaking for days. 

This was Dick's fault. He was supposed to keep track of Duke. Show him the in's and out's of dealing with Scarecrow from the early stages, getting him prepared for when Crane eventually decided to reign his terror across the streets. That was the advantage the family wanted to give Duke. Make it so none of the future battles with Gotham's main gallery felt like it was too much. When you're new, big names could be confidence rattling. 

And Dick had failed Duke. He brought Duke out. Dick didn't prepare for an actual attack.

Dick got Duke captured. 

By Scarecrow. 

It was all his fault. 

Dick had to find him. Save him. He had to fix this. So he tightened his hands in Red Robin's suit and tried to sit up again. "Signal-" Dick tried again, but Tim didn't listen. He just shook his head and opened his mouth. Said something. Dick realized he couldn't hear. Everything sounded like the static on an empty radio channel. His own voice rumbled in his chest, vibrated inside his skull, but he couldn't pick apart anything else. And while the threat of deafness thanks to what was definitely a concussion scared the shit out of him, he couldn't just sit here and let Tim shove him back down to do nothing while Duke was most certainly in danger. 

Dick forced strength he probably didn't have and attempted to shove Tim off from him. Somehow, against all odds, it worked. However, just moving his arms like that caused a spike of exhaustion to spear into his gut and it took every ounce of willpower in his body to work himself to his feet. 

He stumbled once he was standing. Everything was spinning. His lack of hearing made his sense of balance dim. It was suddenly like he was a passenger in his own body. He knew he wanted to take a step forward, but he wasn't sure he did. His stomach rolled and he closed his eyes to catch his breath, but when he opened his eyes again he was laying back down face up, hands on his chest and legs straddling his hips. Pinning him down. 

Dick felt sick. 

He... He had to save Duke. He had to get whoever was on top of him off. 

He twitched and his eyes closed again, only this time it was against his will. Something stinging stroke across his cheek, but everything was far away and he couldn't find his hands. 

He fell into darkness again. 

-o-o-o-o-

He woke up feeling similar to how Buster from Mythbusters looked. His head felt muffled. Far away. So much so that it took a minute for the migraine to kick in once he cracked his eyes open. 

The lights were dim, thank heavens, so it only took a moment for Dick's eyes to adjust. He easily recognized the medbay of the Batcave, having woken up here too many times to confidently number. He reached up to his head and felt bandages wrapped tightly around his skull. Then, he blinked and realized there was a presence besides him. It took him a minute for his eyes to travel over to the side, but when he did his eyebrows rose and he went completely still. 

Duke was there. In pajamas, sitting on a plastic folding chair off to the side of Dick's bed. Not a scratch on him.

Duke, probably having sensed Dick as well, looked up from his phone towards where Dick laid. A smile broke out on his face. 

Duke started speaking, but Dick couldn't hear him. Not that Dick cared at the moment. He was too happy seeing Duke looking completely fine. Exactly as he should be. It was like a dream. Could this be a dream? Dick hoped not.

Duke finishes speaking, tilting his head and brows scrunching up. Dick realized that he must have been asked a question, but because he was too busy reeling over how this all seemed so impossible—because he could have sworn Duke was captured—to read his lips. Dick cleared his throat, thankful that he could still at least hear his own voice, and gave a shaky smile.

"Cn't hear ya," he muttered, his voice too scratchy and his energy too low to do much more than that. Duke's eyes widened and he looked to the side to definitely swear. Dick won't tell Alfred though. It's not like he heard it. 

Duke looked lost with himself for a moment, bringing his hands up to his chest beginning to sign what he wanted to say letter by letter. Duke's still learning sign. Cass was teaching him and he was learning quickly. He was still a beginner though and didn't know how to say much more than basic conversation. Dick felt a laugh escape his throat, sending a spike of pain into his head. 

"E-S-C-A-P-E" Duke signed, carefully shaping every letter with concentration over his facial features. He began to start singing something more, but then he stopped mid "N" and looked over to the entrance of the bay, relief melting the hard edges of his face. Dick turned to look af well and what he saw didn't really surprise him. 

Bruce, still garbed in his suit, but his cowl and cape were absent. He looked tired. Frown pulled down a little more than usual. The bags under his eyes a little more vibrant. Bruce analyzed the room for a brief moment, but a smidge of life seemed to return to his face when his gaze landed on Duke and Dick. His lips twitched. They didn't become a smile, but it was almost one. Dick had learned to live with Bruce's almosts. 

Duke opened his mouth and, judging by the way that smidge of relief and happiness on his face rapidly declined, Dick could guess what was said. Bruce expected Dick's hearing to be back by now. Dick tried not to let that clench something in his gut. 

Bruce walked forward, his footsteps soundless, before he settled besides Dick's beside and snapped his fingers next to Dick's ear.

Dick tried to listen. He really did. It just… wasn't there. He took a calming breath, released it, then shook his head. 

Now Bruce was full on frowning, and Dick almost expected Bruce to turn tail and retreat, maybe to call Leslie or research hearing loss caused by concussion. Instead, he was shocked to find that Bruce simply turned to pull another chair to his bedside, his hands already delicately placed in front of his chest. 

Can you hear anything?

Dick shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek. 

Should not be permanent. Leslie said to call her if it takes longer than a day to start returning.

Dick nodded. Took another breath. He could feel it lingering behind his eyes, the fear of never being able to hear ever again. It made him want to throw something, but Duke was here, and Dick couldn't focus on himself right now. He had to know what happened after his head was smashed in. Thankfully, Bruce seemed to know him well enough to expect that of Dick. That to avoid breaking down he needed to worry about someone else. 

Escaped on his own. Called the family to find you.

Ah. So in the end, it was Dick who needed rescuing. Duke handled himself. Which, somewhere at the back of Dick's mind he knew Duke was a skilled fighter. He was a quick learner. Versatile. Give him a situation and he'd work it to his advantage. And maybe Dick was so worried because even though Duke was nowhere near the youngest of the family, he was still the baby of it. He'd lost his parents so recently. He was the newest to the fold. His trauma was still ripe. And maybe it was the big brother in Dick, but he didn’t want to fail Duke like he's failed all the others. Jason died because he wasn't there. Tim felt abandoned because Dick thought he was ready to let go of something he was still attached to. Damian died after Dick failed to defeat his killer. He never noticed Cassandra and her pain when she was with the League. 

He didn’t want to be the cause of something so… so horrible in Duke's life. He didn’t want to look back on Duke and see regret and hindsight. 

That almost happened tonight. 

But he escaped. He handled it. Crane didn't torture anyone tonight. 

Duke was okay.

He sighed and sank into the cushions of the cot and smiled when Bruce lifted a hand and wrapped it around his knee, squeezing slightly in reassurance. Dick shot one last glance at Duke and smiled. Duke beamed back, albeit a bit apprehensively. Dick didn't take the hesitation to be completely open with the family personally. Duke was still new. Soon enough, they'd all get used to each other. 

Get some rest, Bruce signed and Dick hummed. Yeah, he felt tired all over again. Must be the head injury. Maybe the relief that everything had worked out at the expense of his hearing. 

And Bruce said Leslie predicted it shouldn't be permanent. Within a few days, it would be like nothing happened. They'd continue to hunt Crane, only next time he'd be the one cuffed and dragged away. His vacation from Arkham wouldn’t last long, Dick would personally attest to that. 

He'd do anything to make sure his family stayed safe during these stressful next few weeks that always follow an Arkham breakout. Everyone would return home safe, every single night. Dick will make sure of it. Hearing or not. 

No one will be hurting Duke. Or any of his family. Not while Dick Grayson had a say in it. 

[athewriter]

Two Contrasting Descriptive Pieces I did for my English Assignment

The task was to create two, contrasting descriptive pieces of the same place/ area before and after a “storm”- focusing on movement, light and sound. I chose the same forest scene before and after the happenings of war, developing the five senses: sight, touch, smell, hearing, taste.

WARNINGS: tw: DEATH, tw: GORE, tw: VIOLENCE

DESCRIPTIVE PIECE #1

Jean meticulously stepped through the fragile foliage, skin tingling with every wet lick of the leaves against his hands. Trees towered over him, giant, looming walls of thick, bulging trunks and solid blankets of all shades of green. So densely packed together that not even the most ambitious streaks of light could penetrate through- the realm beneath the canopy forsaken to everlasting shadows. One would think this brought rigid cold and barren lands, yet the humid heat that threatened to overpower him suggested otherwise.

               Morning dew dotted the deep veins of broad, wide leaves, soaking it as it ran in lazy rivulets down their faces. A weighted, gentle caress that held them down, forcing the leaves to droop and pave a terraced path to the net of underbrush below. The water pooled on a bed of knee-high, prickly bushes and plants, forming little ponds in depressions woven by their hands.

               The earth ceased to exist, seeming to descend far below the projecting, twisted roots that crawled through the underbrush like thick, course, brown snakes. The stench of freshly turned and wet soil and rotting organic material was its only alibi. So soft and malleable, carpeted by threads of wax and thorns, that it gave way an inch or so with every calculated step of hardened leather boots.

               A cacophony of bird calls and songs grew stronger, evidence that life could exist in this alien world, rang above his head: the staccato trill of Piqinins, the warbling harmony of Caterwals, and the sickly-sweet chirps of the Nightwing. A choir of vastly different symphonies that clashed and fought over each other, their volume near-deafening amongst the ear-piercing siren of the cicada. An ear-bleeding performance for the lustful and greedy patrolling mere metres below their perch.

               And, if choice be, he could look up and see the royal blues, obnoxious yellows, and striking, deep purples of feathers dancing. That is if the birds themselves wanted to be seen, preferring the cavernous alcoves tucked into the intersections of branches.

               In the centre of all this chaos was a small, circular clearing. Trees fell away to allow for light to spill in, casting a warm glow over wild, untamed grass of a rich green that rivalled that of an emerald. A single flower, no taller than his waist, grew in the middle. Resembling a jellyfish, bottlebrush like tendrils of flaming reds and vibrant oranges hung from its bowl-shaped cap, barely grazing the floor with its frayed ends. Starting tightly coiled, the tendrils slowly unravelled from the cap, unfurling and unwinding like a spring being stretched; despite their rough and bristled appearance, they were velvety to the touch and silkier than the finest satin.

               A honey sweet, sickening odour permeated the air, mixing with the lingering scents of precipitation and wet soil. It left a strong, bittersweet taste of iron in his mouth, drying his tongue out as it stuck to the roof of his mouth. As innocent as it looked, the Royal Adonis’s fumes could kill even the most fearsome of creatures, making it the perfect snack for a passing Drongo*. With an extensive, and very much alive root system, it’s a deadly beauty with hidden, malignant tendencies- Killing you softly as it steals your every last breath.

*Drongo: a creature that brings death wherever it goes, taking to the scent of decay and freshly spilt blood like a cat to catnip.

(548 words)

DESCRIPTIVE PIECE #2

Snow kissed the ground. Little snowflakes of ash drifted, directionless against the inky black of the sky, and settled on barren bows. Those that danced through landed in the deep gashes that wounded the earth.

Jean stood in the middle of it, observing the destruction with blank, grey eyes, shifting his weight as ash dusted the worn leather of his boots.

Thick cracks ran deep, splitting the hardened ground as thinner, shallow cracks webbed its surface. No longer could it hold life, but how would it? As solid as cement, the blackened, bare ground was impenetrable to even the sharpest swords or the strongest hammer; they would shatter into a million pieces on impact, spraying iron, silver, and blood.

Blood. Too much had bled into the land, staining it with the greed, the cruelty of men, and the damned innocent. Crimson brown, it seeped through ancient roots systems, tainting the once crystalline, white red.

               No guardians loomed over him, no protective walls of green and brown. And no loyal, gentle lick of the playful, entangling foliage. Instead, charred sticks of charcoal stood in their place. Broken and beaten, they swayed in the chilly evening breeze of June, so brittle they would crumble with the slightest touch. No longer did the water hold them captive, having no hands to shackle, nobody to bend. Just a hollow, empty shell of what used to be. The blankets of ash were their only comfort.

               The haunting wails of the Rose-breasted Grosbeak sent cold dread through him, ghostly fingers tracing up the back of his spine. Its song of death a beautiful, yet fear-inducing melody: a warbling howl that gradually rose in volume before suddenly dropping into curt, cut off choked squawks. Thick, white plumage sat on a low hanging branch, a black hood stretching down to its wings as large, glazed eyes stared at him with unnerving intelligence. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the rosy patch on its breast coincidently matched its red-lipped, bone-white beak.

               Beneath it, a carcass lay- a dier*, to be precise. Its intimidating, golden antlers lay broken by its massive head, deep, fleshy holes peering up at the sky as ash sprinkled its beige, near white, fur. That was its only identifiable feature. A horrific gash stretched across its belly, skin peeled back off of bone as organs slopped into a pool of deep red. Glistening intestines, kidneys, and bladder were pulled from the opening of torn flesh and skin, littered with numerous scratches and tears that matched the ones on its head. On closer inspection, Jean could see the claw marks that shredded the flesh of its neck, jagged, messy bite marks piercing the thick hide of its flank. More blood coated its mouth and splattered on the ground, an indication of ravenous, vicious feasting whilst its heart still beat.

               The stench of iron and death was strong on his tongue, lingering heavily in the air around the duo. A sickening mix of pungent, rotting flesh and freshly shed blood was something one did not scrub out so easily.

*Dier: closely resembles what you would call a deer except has a beige-golden hide with massive, majestic horns of presumed medicinal benefit.

               (519 words)

[ragingbookdragon]

This City’s Gonna Break My Heart

A/N: I don't care what anyone says. My best fics are song fics. Especially this Dick one. Enjoy! -Thorne <3

I’ve been seeing lonely people in crowded rooms Covering their old heartbreaks with new tattoos It’s all about smoke screens and cigarettes Looking through low lights and silhouettes But all I see is lonely people in crowded rooms

           There had only been two times in Dick’s life that he’d ever been completely alone. The night his parents were murdered, and now, as he sat in the dingy bar nursing a worn and weeping heart. He wanted to go home and be out on patrol, but he knew at some point he had been bound for this. To leave Gotham and leave the manor. Leaving Robin. Baby blues scanned the customers in the bar, taking in their dispositions. He could tell many of them were in the same boat. Perhaps not fighting the same broken heart he was; his heart was torn by family and trust where theirs was torn by love. His eyes landed on a couple a few feet away from him, and he listened as they flirted back and forth; something in their eyes made him wonder if their flirtation was a rouse to cover something cracked underneath the surface they had. He shifted his gaze back to his drink, staring into its contents. He stared back at himself, the loneliness creeping down his spine as he lowered his head, eyes shutting as if he could will it away.

This city’s gonna break my heart This city’s gonna love me then leave me alone This city’s got me chasing stars It’s been a couple months since I felt like I’m home Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong? This city’s gonna break my heart She’s always gonna break your heart, oh

           His body cried as he slid through his window, barely having the strength to shut it behind him as he collapsed onto the floor, hands moving to hold his left side. He couldn’t feel anything warm and wet, but pain shot through his nerves as he pressed on it telling him he’d cracked a few ribs. He chuckled weakly at it, thankful that what could be worse wasn’t.

When Dick finally managed to pick himself off the floor, he moved to his bedroom, shucking off his suit, the pieces dropping along the hallway and in his bedroom as he made his way to the bed. He eased down onto it, careful to avoid putting any pressure on his side as he sprawled onto the sheets. He turned his head, gazing out of the window. It had a couple months since he’d started up in Blüdhaven, donning Nightwing. It hadn’t been easy for him to be alone like this. He’d always been with someone, either with Bruce or with the Titans, but never alone. It made his chest burn, and he felt the familiar lump swell in his throat as his vision began to blur. Sometimes Blüdhaven made him feel like he was back in Gotham, the feelings of belonging beginning to seep into him, but other times, he still felt like he’d barely made a dent in his separation. Dick raised a hand, palm rubbing roughly into his chest as if he could wear away the deeply set cracks in his heart; however, he realized that the harder he rubbed, the more his vision blurred, and eventually he felt warmth flowing down his cheeks. His hand stopped, going limp against his chest as he felt his heart breaking.

I remember mornings when my head didn’t hurt And I remember nights when art didn’t feel like work She wakes up at noon and she’s out ‘til three She leaves her perfume all over me But I remember mornings when my head didn’t hurt

           He could feel the sun shining along his face and he grimaced, twisting in the sheets to burrow his face into his pillow. The pounding in his head seemed to worsen as sleep began to escape him, and Dick groaned lowly, rubbing his face into the fabric. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going back to sleep, he sighed, pushing himself up onto his arms. A sharp stab spread across the back of his neck, up to his head and he winced as the invisible band started to tighten around his skull.

Fighting it back, he left his bed, trudging into his living room. He looked outside the window, seeing the sun peeking from between the buildings across the street. He shifted, glancing at the clock, realizing that he’d only been home a couple hours. He sunk down onto the couch, eyes lazily staring up at the ceiling. Dick kicked his legs out but stopped when he felt something touch his foot. He sat up, looking down to see the top of his suit; he bent down, picking it up before he slouched back into the cushions. The tear in the arm was still there, fingers slipping in between the cloth. He let out a sigh, looking for a sewing kit. He knew he had one; Alfred had sent it to him in one of the care packages.

When he found it, he threaded the needle, fumbling the metal through the suit top. He didn’t have the energy to make it perfect, and as he pulled it away and examined it, he realized that fixing and designing his suit and gadgets wasn’t passionate to him anymore; it felt like work more than anything, and he dropped his head onto the back of the couch, eyes finding the ceiling once more as his grip went lax.

This city’s gonna break my heart This city’s gonna love me then leave me alone This city’s got me chasing stars It’s been a couple months since I felt like I’m home Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong? This city’s gonna break my heart She’s always gonna break your heart, oh

           He stood along the ledge of a building, observing the city before him. The months had gotten easier as they’d gone by, the thoughts changing from ‘this isn’t home’ to ‘this is starting to feel like home’. Dick drug his eyes from the city for a moment to look up at the night sky. Millions of stars stared back at him, and for a second he wondered if this life he lived now was just a chasing of the stars. A complicated race between him and an uncatchable target; a life he lived and the life he wanted, one where there wasn’t a divide between him and his father. He’d met the new boy his father had taken in. Jason, his name was. Good kid, he thought, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was his replacement. Dick shook his head, and a siren sounded in the distance and he dropped his eyes from the sky to the rooftops, letting out a sigh as he began hopping ledges towards it.

She got a hold on me She got me wrapped around her finger She got a hold on me She got me wrapped around her finger, oh yeah

           Dick shut the front door behind him, shucking off his jacket before hanging it on his coat rack, feet carrying him to the couch. He dropped onto it, groaning in relief as he felt his body begin to relax. It’s good to be home, he thought, and the second he did, his breathing stuttered. He didn’t know when it had changed, but it certainly had. The words flowed out of his mouth in conversations now, when people asked where home was. Gotham no longer crossed his lips, instead, Blüdhaven rolled off his tongue. Dick took a breath, feeling the air begin to ease back in and out of his lungs. Blüdhaven no longer felt like a stranger to him; it felt…like home.

This city’s gonna break my heart This city’s gonna love me then leave me alone This city’s got me chasing stars It’s been a couple of months since I felt like I’m home Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong? This city’s gonna break my heart She’s always gonna break your heart, oh

           He stepped into his room, eyes widening in surprise at his brothers sitting huddled on his bed; the words came out before he could stop them. “What are you three doing in my bedroom?” Their heads swiveled in his direction and Damian held up a photo.

           “Where was this taken Richard?” Dick’s eyebrows furrowed and he dropped his laundry basket, crossing the room to pluck the photo from his fingers. He glanced at it, seeing him, Roy, and Wally, sandwiched together on a couch; he smiled, eyes crinkling and quipped,

           “Oh, that’s from when I was in Blüdhaven a few years ago.”

           “How come you don’t live over there anymore Dickhead?” He rolled his eyes at Jason’s insult, placing the photo back before climbing behind them, looking into the box.

           “Well, can’t leave Bruce alone to handle the circus.” He nudged his brothers. “Someone’s gotta keep you guys in check.” Tim stared at him, blinking unamused.

           “Dick. You’re the only one of us that actually gets in trouble.” Damian grunted, tipping his head at Jason.

           “Todd does too, but that is a fair point.”

           “Hey, I’m not that bad!”

           “Jason, you shoot people.”

           “Well not that much anymore!”

           “You’ve made up for it in brutal beatings.”

           “Wow Two-Bit. It’s almost as if getting beaten to death by a crowbar makes me want to make others feel pain.”

           “This is why Father doesn’t trust you.”

           “Say it to my face you little shi-” The sound of a fist smacking someone’s cheek cut Jason off, and Dick watched Damian fly into him. As if they were dominoes, Jason landed against Tim, crushing him into the bed; he yelped, trying to scramble out from the two fighting boys.

           “HEY! LEAVE ME OUT OF THIS! I DIDN’T DO JACK!” The two didn’t pay any mind to his cries and he yelled for his eldest brother. “DICK DO SOMETHING! I’M BEGGING YOU!” Dick chuckled, leaning over to wrap an arm around Damian and tug him away. As he closed in on him, Damian’s arm came back, and his elbow went into Dick’s nose; he let out a curse, reaching up to hold his face. His brothers stilled as they watched crimson liquid leak from between Dick’s fingers. Dick lowered his hands to stare at them, and his eyes widened momentarily, then hardened and he shifted his gaze to his brothers; he pointed at them and warned,

           “Start running. I’m giving you ten seconds to get a head start.” It was all the warning they needed, scrambling across the comforter to the door, each diving out after the other. Dick clambered out of the bed, hand reaching for a shirt laying haphazardly on the ground. He held it against his nose and took a step, but stopped and reached down, plucking the picture from the box; he grinned at it, propping it up on his nightstand next to the other pictures of his family. He moved to the door, stepped out and yelled, “READY OR NOT! HERE I COME!” Their screeches could be heard from down the halls and a wicked smirk crossed his lips as he began hunting.

This city’s gonna break my heart, hey She’s always gonna break your heart.

[secondhand-trash]

Dick Grayson(Nightwing)- In The Rain

A/N: I just love the batboys so much ok, let me have this self-indulgence little moment here thanks. (Sidenote, I struggled to choose between writing about Officer Grayson in Bludhaven or Nightwing in Gotham but ended up going with the latter because my complicated feelings towards the police force made me uneased.)

Description: It seemed to be raining everytime you meet Dick Grayson.

Wordcount: 2072

Playlist: 

Colouring Book//The Regrettes

Old Fashioned//Bruno Major

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy//Queen

(I stg I did not plan for this to happen it just so happens that these two songs have such similar titles)

The first time you met Dick Grayson, it was raining and you didn’t even know his name.

Ever since you received the notice of your relocation to the Gotham branch from your company, you had dreadfully count downed to the day when you had to make the move. Your boss must have hated your guts to move you to one of the most notoriously dangerous areas of the country, you should have known better when you decided that you would not suck up to him like your colleagues when everyone told you that he was infamous for playing favourites.

Way to go standing firm on your moral grounds, now you’re carrying a huge suitcase in the city with the highest crime rate. At night, all alone, and it’s raining.

You tried to walk as quickly as you could, all while pulling the heavy suitcase with the worn out wheels close to you. Your other hand was sore from holding up the umbrella that barely shields you from the rain and your feet was numb with soaked socks stealing all of their warmth.

You were already miserable and when you caught what seems like the shadow of a man from the corner of your eye, the pounding in your chest sped up from panic and the worst possible scenario flashed before your eyes. That’s it, you’re gonna die. Should have expected it right when the first raindrop hit your chin on the dim street that was honestly no more than a path lit by scarce streetlamps on the side.

“Miss?”

Your heart skipped a bit upon hearing the voice from behind your back and you let out a repressed, instinctive squeak. It took a while for you to calm down from the fright and register the figure that was standing a short distance away from you or come to your logic that what you heard was not the most aggressive of words.

“Hey hey, it’s ok. I just want to see if you need help.”

The figure walked closer to you and stood under the streetlight. You took your first proper look and recognized him as one of those vigilantes that your friend who lived in town told you about. It seemed like a lot to take in at that time, there weren’t masked heroes jumping from roof to roof back in where you came from, but you didn’t expect to run into one of them on your first day in the city. You did have faint memory of the symbol on the man’s chest but you couldn’t quite connect it to the names your friends rambled on about. (There’s just too many names and they all sounds oddly familiar ok?)

You’re so doing your research if you could make it to your apartment in one piece.

“Oh, I’m alright. You probably have more important things to take care of.” You gave the man a faint smile and attempted pulled your suitcase closer to your body, “But thanks for asking.”

The man slightly tilted his head and you could see his eyebrow quirking up from above his mask. While you thought that you very well pretended to have yourself together, your damped sleeves and tired out voice gave the stranger a very different impression.

“It’s too late for you to be out here alone and remain safe,” the man said, “you aren’t exactly in the safer parts of the city and you’re carrying a suitcase more than half your size under the rain. Will you at least let me walk you somewhere with cover?”

"Alright then.” You said and you winced at how rude, almost pathetic, that came out. You appreciated his offer but you were too exhausted to keep your composure. “Thank you.”

He looked almost relieved upon hearing your reply and walked closer to your side. Despite your protest, he immediately took the umbrella from your hand and held it above your head. It was then that you noticed his hair was dripping wet yet he did not try to shield himself from the rain and you felt an unexplained sense of guilt building at the pit of your stomach. How long had he been under the rain?

You two walked in silence with only the loud crackling of rain surrounding you. There were several moments when you almost brought out the courage to start a conversation but the part of you that was afraid to sound embarrassed ended up winning every time. There were a few split seconds when he turned to check up on you and you were certain that he was gonna say something. But seeing how you would quickly turn your gaze back to the road, he decided that silence would be more comfortable for the both of you.

At heart, you appreciated it. Truth be told, you were slightly intimidated by the masked man. You tried to steal subtle glances at his direction when you thought he wasn’t looking at you just to have a better view of his appearance. You found your eyes following the water droplets the dripped from his fringe and slide down his sharp jaw. The blue strip that extended from his finger went all the way across his chest and you forced yourself to focus on the road instead of staring at this toned stranger for a duration that was far too inappropriate. If anything, that just made you even more glad that neither of you tried to strike up a conversation.

“This is my stop,” You stopped in front of what would be your new apartment complex and the corner of your lips lifted up to form your first genuine smile after arriving at the city, “thank you, uh...”

“Nightwing.” The stranger flashed you a grin and you felt your smile growing wider.

“Thank you, Nightwing.” You said softly, opening the door of the building. You were about to step in when you felt a sudden rush of courage and turned back to the vigilante who had yet to leave. He was standing steps away from you and you wondered how he could be so unbothered by the rain.

“Be safe, the rain will probably go on until next morning.”

Nightwing seemed to be a bit taken aback and the white lens of his masked widen just a bit but he quickly regained his previous composure. “You too, especially around here.” He hesitated before adding with a smile, “Most people who hide in corners of the street probably aren’t planning to offer help to a lovely newcomer who is alone in the rain.”

The second time you met Dick Grayson, it was raining and to you, he was just a ridiculously attractive man who happened to share your table at a cafe because it was the only seat left.

You discovered this cozy cafe near your apartment after moving to Gotham for a few days and you quickly became a regular after a few weeks, sitting at the table next to the large window every weekend with a book in hand. You were sipping your coffee at your usual spot when you heard the faint rattling at the window and people started rushing in to hide from the sudden rain.

“I’m sorry, do you mind if I seat here?”

You looked up from the rim of your cup to see a man that was soaked from head to bottom. You quickly put down your drink and nodded, earning a mumble of thanks from him.

Attractive strangers were the worst because you only get to ogle at them (discretely) for a short amount of them before you two never crossed paths again. But as the raven-haired man placed his wet coat on the arm of the chair and sunk down to the seat opposite to you, you thought that maybe Gotham wasn’t all that bad for the first time since you moved here last month.

You started scrolling through your phone mindlessly to conceal your urge to glace at the man seating near you. You silently cursed at yourself for getting to the point where you had to glue your eyes to a screen to stop looking at random people. After seeing the same Twitter thread on Instagram twice, you put your phone down in frustration and was surprised to find the man looking at you with an amused expression.

“Do you always stare at strangers like that?” you jokingly asked, trying to pass your nerves off.

“Only the cute ones.”

“You think you’re so smooth.” you raised your cup to take a sip, hiding the clear evidence of heat spreading on your cheeks.

The man only chuckled your expression and you wondered what he found so interesting about you being flustered. “You’re new in the city?”

“Moved here last month,” you let out a satisfied sigh after having the taste of coffee on your tongue, “is it that obvious?”

“You don’t look beaten up by this place just yet.”

You laughed and felt way more at ease, “Just yet?”

“Not exactly the most forgiving place.” He said but the twinkle in his eyes told you that Gotham had quite a place in his heart. “I’m Dick.”

“(y/n).”

The third time you met Dick Grayson, it was more of a light drizzle than rain. You smiled as he still sat down at your table with half of the seats in the shop being empty and you found the confidence to flirt back at him. He asked you out by the time the rain stopped.

The fifth time you met Dick Grayson, you weren’t even sure if ‘met’ was still an accurate term to use since you two see each other regularly now. He stayed the night at your place because it was thundering and he ‘forgot to bring an umbrella’. Was it an excuse? Maybe. It was only a pure coincidence that you happened to lose your extra umbrella a while back.”

The eighth time you met Dick Grayson, it started to rain when he was about to leave after dropping you off at your apartment. As he pulled away from a kiss, he whispered in your ear saying he was the one who walked you back that night you arrived at the city. You were so distracted by his hot breath at your ear that it wasn’t until you were alone that the big secret he so nonchalantly revealed to you finally settled in your head.

You stopped counting after you two became official. Now, with the sound of Friends’ laugh track and Dick’s arm draping over your waist, you found the sound of rain hitting the windows to be oddly comforting. Your back was pressed up against his chest as you two casually lounged on the couch. You could feel the vibration from his chest when he laughed at the show and you wondered how you got so lucky.

You shifted your position to lean against him on your side and wrapped your arms at his torso. He smiled and looked down at you, kissing your forehead before pulling you closer to him.

“Sometimes I’ll remember that my first image of you was that you looked like a Greek god even with damped hair and your first impression of me was when I looked like a wet chicken in the middle of the night, talking about imbalance.”

He laughed at your remark, “You made quite the impression.”

“Enough for you to pretend to run into me again and again.”

“But do you want to know what made you stood out?” he asked with a gentle smile, softly scratching the back of your head.

“What? Because I pretended that I wasn’t checking you out?”

“Is that so? To be honest, babe, you were so obvious.” he laughed as you playfully hit his arm but his expression remained genuine. “The thing with growing up doing what we do, you got so used to people not caring that you would be surprised when someone do so little as reminding you to be safe.”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you reached up for his chin and kissed him on the lips. You could felt him smiling into it before kissing back. As you closed the gap between you and him once again, you secretly decided that rainy days weren’t so bad after all.