#wayne at the breakfast table like okay then what is your name if its not [redacted] and eddie does not have an answer yet

[formosusiniquis]

When Mike Wheeler, red faced and still faintly tear stained, asks him how he knew he liked both Steve doesn’t know how to tell him it was his sister.

Before Nancy Wheeler it had only been boys. Before Nancy Wheeler Steve had been sure he was gay and knew well enough to keep it to himself; dating around enough to earn himself a protective reputation. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Marcus Summers, from the baseball team, during freshman year. Steve had gone to every game, and had been forced to make up excuses about schoolwork and his other commitments when asked why he hadn’t tried out for himself. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Tommy Hagan. The summer between seventh and eighth grade had been very kind to Tommy, he was sunkissed and boy next door sweet, Steve had wanted to hold his hand and count the freckles across the bridge of his nose. 

Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been his first love, a boy who only visited one summer, the year Steve turned ten. His name had changed every time they hung out but he’d favored E’s. Eli, Emmett, Elliott, Eric, Excalibur, Excelsior, and once for about an hour Wayne. His hair brushed his chin in pretty brown curls and his big brown eyes were always bright with excitement. He always got storm off mad when any of the other boys they’d played with that summer said he was acting like a girl, E would run off to the woods and Steve would always follow. E always came up with the best games anyway, he didn’t like playing soccer or HORSE or anything else with rules that couldn’t be bent; he preferred imagination games where they were knights or wizards. He didn’t laugh when Steve said he always liked playing house, but never wanted to be the dad because why would he want to be someone who never wanted to spend any time with his kids. E who, while insisting on being called Samwise all day, was his first kiss.

Cause he knows what Mike wants to hear. He’s seen the way Mike and Will have danced around each other since the last portal closed. He’s heard the things Mike has said to and about Will. He’s heard all about the week that Will was in the Upside Down. He’s heard all about the summer of ‘85. He’s heard all about the final off again that seems to officially mark the end of Mike and El romantically. He knows that Mike wants him to say that he’d never even thought about boys before he met Eddie. That there’s just something special about Eddie that makes him want to give up his lady killing ways. That Eddie was different. That it was okay that he was having these scary new thoughts, maybe Will was just an exception.

And Steve doesn’t know how to have that conversation. When he realized he liked both it was a relief, that maybe he could have something normal and wouldn't have to spend his life lying or hiding. 

But Eddie was different. Eddie was special. Eddie was probably it for Steve which is scary in a different way that he’s not ready to touch yet -- not when it’s only been three months.

There’s never been another girl since Nancy Wheeler, not really

There will never be another boy after Eddie Munson.

So he tries to help, as best he can. It’s easier with Eddie there, not quite dozing against his shoulder -- the kid’s emergencies always seem to come so late at night these days. “When I was ten, there was a boy whose name kept changing who decided prince charming should get to kiss his faithful knight. And when I was sixteen, your sister-”

Mike’s goodwill diminishes quickly as his sister gets introduced to the conversation.

“Stevie,” Eddie says. It’s not an admonishment for bringing up Nancy. It’s awestruck and watery. “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember the first boy I ever loved," that word catches up with him a second later. Remember. 

Cause there's Eddie with his riot of brown curls and his Bambi eyes. Eddie, who has explained why soft feminine words chafe against his skin leaving him itchy and anxious. Eddie, who has an Uncle in Hawkins. Eddie who moved to town the summer before he entered high school with a buzzed head and his mother's last name. Eddie who finally settled into an E he liked best.

"Wheeler, here's a tip from me to you," Eddie says, his advice is always better received than Steve's anyway, "if you have to ask you probably already know."

"Straight people don't really spend much time wondering if they aren't really straight," Steve agrees.

They don't rush Mike out the door, a crisis is a crisis and even in the wake of new discoveries Mike deserves to be heard out. Deserves a chance to cry and rage and feel those emotions someplace safe from his Reaganite father -- just as much as Will deserves to have someone who knows what they want come to him, deserves better than experimentation.

They cross the bridge from late into early by the time Mike sets off. The sun is creeping up over the horizon and Mike looks solid, certain; the dawn hints at the man he is growing up to be. Though every instinct of Steve's begs him to drive the kid home, Eddie's soft hand lingering at his hip holds him fast. They wave instead, encouraging Mike to go home and to bed before he does anything; knowing his front bike tire is already pointed toward the Byers-Hopper place.

"The first boy you ever loved, huh, Stevie?" Eddie teases before the door has even managed to click shut.

"And the last, I'm hoping, if I play my cards right."

"You were always pretty good at that. You were the only person that summer who called me by my name, except Wayne."

"It was your name." He knows that's too simple. Knows how hard Eddie has had it, continues to have it. But that summer it had been that simple, Eddie trying on names like shirts each one fitting until they didn't. "For what it's worth, I like Eddie a lot more than Excalibur."

"Oh fuck off, I was going through a fantasy knight phase. Which I know you remember."

"Right a phase, and how much longer is this fantasy 'phase' going to last?"

They're the kind of tired that makes you feel drunk, when Eddie tackles Steve and sends them both to the floor and to giggles. Eddie might not have been his bi awakening, but Steve is pretty fine with him being his everything else.

[hawkins-losers]

Eddie blurb - Eddie introducing you to Wayne and him instantly liking you but thinking its a short term thing then after a few months the reader is waiting for Eddie at the trailer and has a heart to heart with Wayne who admits he's glad Eddie found someone like her and he's grateful for all she's done for him

Yes yes to this

-

That's not the way you wanted to be introduced to Eddie's uncle, but you can’t always get what you want. Sometimes, situations gotta be awkward. 

You and Eddie were in the kitchen early in the morning, making pancakes because unlike him, you could cook. And who was Eddie to pass up an opportunity to have a better breakfast than cereal. 

He helped you with the batter, but his help ended there because he kept distracting you by wrapping his arms around you from behind and kissing you and singing that one song he liked to annoy you with. 

How could someone be so hyper in the morning? Without caffeine. 

‘’Stop that! The pancakes are going to burn,’’ you giggled, trying to get away from Eddie’s hold.

You were so caught up in your bubble that neither of you heard the trailer door opening. 

‘’Oh. I see you've got company,’’ Wayne remarked, coming back from his night shift. 

Your laughter stopped abruptly, freezing in Eddie's arms as his eyes shifted to his uncle's a little too casually for the situation. ‘’Morning, uncle Wayne. You hungry? Y/N is making pancakes.’’ 

Suddenly feeling very under-dressed, you pulled at the bottom of your shirt, trying to cover more skin. You didn't want Eddie’s uncle to think you were pant-less in his kitchen - even if you were wearing shorts under your- Eddie's shirt. 

Eddie’s shirt. 

It's impossible he won't notice you were wearing his nephew's shirt. It was obviously big on you and had 'Megadeth' written in bold on the front. Will he assumed you were having sex because of the shirt? Oh god. You felt your cheeks go red. 

‘’Mr. Munson, hi,’’ you croaked out uncomfortably.

The man replied with a curt nod, then turned to his nephew. ‘’Eh, no. I’m mostly tired so I’m going to crash. You kids don’t set fire to my kitchen, alright?’’

A few months later, you were in Eddie’s living room waiting for him to return from the corner store, having forgotten the popcorn for your movie night when Wayne walked in the trailer. You had assumed he was at work for his night shift already, but he wasn’t. 

‘’You're still around?’’ 

The close voice gave you a small heart attack. You looked over your shoulder and saw Eddie’s uncle. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head the same way Eddie does. ‘’Sorry. That was rude.’’

‘’It’s okay. Eddie went to the corner store for popcorn,’’ you told him. ‘’He’s probably gonna get cigarettes too. I tried making him quit, but he’s stubborn.’’

‘’I know, he gets that from his dad. The guy is stubborn as a donkey,’’ Wayne explained with a huff, diving a little into Eddie’s past. ‘’The cigarettes, he got that from me, though. I left my pack on the table when he was ten and the next thing I saw, he had it between his lips.’’ 

You chuckled, imagining a little Eddie with a cigarette. ‘’Back when he had that buzz cut, right?’’ 

‘’Yes.’’ Wayne took off his jacket, moving around in the trailer. ‘’Your name is Y/N, right?’’ 

You nodded. You didn’t think he’d remember. 

''May I sit with you?’’ 

You nodded again. After all, it was his house. 

He sat on the couch beside you, keeping a comfortable distance in between. ‘’I think I owe you an apology.'' A frown formed between your eyebrows, but you let him continue. ‘’What I meant when I arrived is that I didn’t expect you to be sticking around in Eddie's life. I assumed you were another temporary acquaintance or something, someone who would ditch him in a few days or weeks, but I'm realizing that I misjudged you that day when I met you.

‘’I’ve been noticing changes in him since you got into his life. Let’s begin with the obvious one: he studies now. Who would’ve thought? I haven’t seen him open a book since primary school.’’ He laughed a little, still not believing. ‘’I’ve also noticed other changes. His room is a little cleaner, but he’s been…happier. Especially when he talks about you. You made a difference in his life and I’m very glad that he’s found you, Y/N.’’

-

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss  @eddiemattress  @ghoulishlygrey   @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook  @truewdw1  

[liquid-luck-00]

Reverse Robins + Identities

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 18: Reverse Robins - Day 19: Identities

Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

How this came to happen Mari had no idea.

She was leaving Gotham to patrol Paris like usual, but all of her brothers decided that they wanted to go with her. Mainly to get Andre’s Ice cream for breakfast, and hopefully not be yelled at for doing so by Alfred.

One minute she and her brothers were patrolling Paris in the early morning, some time around 5 am. The next they saw a flash of golden light.

"Let's go. Everyone is on comms" Nightwing took the lead. "Rosu how long for your team to arrive?"

At that moment, her yo-yo rung "Hey Bug who do we have this time" Chat Noir answered in that moment Abeille, Viperion, and Ryuko appeared on screen.

"Comms on guys" she took the lead as easily as Dick had. "The bats are here" with that they all logged off and made their way to where the golden lights kept flashing.

"Any idea on the akuma's powers?"Red Robin asked the miraculous team that arrived before them. Ryuko shoot her head.

The akuma then noticed them "Ladybug, Chat Noir everyone's big sister and big brother. Let's see how you feel taking orders now!" A golden light swept thought the area engulfing the heroes.

"Ha! I think your powers are busted. Um... I don't know your name" Chat yelled.

"Chat!" she scolded but her voice was sharper. She looked around and that was when it hit her. Well specifically she saw a mini Nightwing who looked no older than 15.

"What the hell!" was yelled by a younger Red Hood, 16, complete with a voice crack.

"Huh I didn't change" was spoken by Red Robin.

"That is because you are the middle child, imbecile" was said by an older, 27, Robin.

"Why are you older you’re a big sister" the akuma began throwing a verbal tantrum.

"Sorry I'm actually the youngest in my family" she spoke, 30.

"But everyone listens to you" the akuma stomped her foot "All the heroes listen to you since your older" she huffed trying to find an answer.

"Actually, I'm the oldest in the Miracle Team" Viperion commented, seeming to be a year or two younger.

"Besides" Ryuko spoke stepping towards the girl "We listen to Ladybug because we trust and respect her."

"But that's not how it works" the akuma wrung the wand in her hands.

Ladybug knelt next to her and took the wand releasing the akuma and capturing it.

“Chat catch the butterfly when it is released" she ordered, and he nodded his head. "Lucky charm" she called and, in her hand, fell a small tracker.

She released the Akuma which chat caught and placed the tracker on it. She opened her yo yo and saw the blip on the screen.

"Robin" she moved to her brother who removed his hood and handed it to her, which her brothers then formed a protective circle around her covering her completely. She de-transformed, fed Tikki, and transformed again handing her brother back his hood.

"Ladybug what are you planning?" Abeille asked.

"Give me a moment. Kaalki" the little Kwami came out. She held out her hands and the little horse sat down, and she touched their foreheads together.

"Understood" Kaalki nodded and flew through a portal.

"Follow me" she motioned once the little kwami had left.

"Please tell me you are going to fix us?" Red Hood whined.

"Not yet"

"Why?" this time Nightwing asked.

"Because" she held up her yo-yo showing the blip "we can end Hawkmoth right now"

"How sure are you that the butterfly went to Hawkmoth?" Red Robin asked. As if on cue a ladybug landed on her screen, a bee landed on Abeille, and a cat rubbed against Chat Noir's leg.

"Okay point taken" Robin spoke. "Red can you get the coordinates, and we can make plan?"

"On it"

"Azur can you and Chat go inform the police" she said as they both nodded and left." Vipereon and Ryuko do a quick spar with Hood and I'll spar with Robin" everyone nodded.

"Why the spar bug" Robin asked as they began to pass blows.

"Chat, Abeille, Ryuko, and Red didn't change the rest of us did"

"So, this is to figure out the changes, and sending Nightwing off was better because he is more aerial" Robin hummed as she nodded.

Red Robin sent the location to Nightwing and chat as the rest of us stopped to plan.

The storm at Agreste Manor.

Red Robin shut down all security measures. Robin, Vipereon, and Ryuko went in to scan the rooms and that was sent to Red Robin. "Who is inside" Red Hood asked the three who just came back.

"The Agreste bodyguard, Gorilla, is here and these two would be Gabriel and his assistant, Natalie” Chat explained.

"Doesn't Gabriel have a son?" Robin asks "Adrien correct"

"Yes, he does but he is not here " Abeille answered ending that conversation everyone nodded in acknowledgement as they made their final preparations.

They first took out Gorilla and left him with the police instructing than to stay out of sight.

The team split up to converge on the office. She and Chat Noir were the first to enter.

"Good Morning Monsieur Agreste and Madame Sancoeur" she began.

"As much as I appreciate the visit from our beloved heroes" Gabriel started with a slight venom in his voice. "But this is breaking and entering"

"We are sorry for the inconvenience" but Chat was cut off as Natalie lunged at him.

"So, the calm way is off the table" she sighed as the rest of the team crashed into the room. Gabriel took that time to descend by a hidden elevator, which she followed. She watched as Gabriel transformed and akumatized himself.

In the end the fight took no longer than five minutes as the group of heroes escorted Natalie and Gabriel out of the mansion. They found the body of Emilie Agreste in a cryo chamber comatose.

She went back inside to find the butterfly with the tracker, as well as to retrieve the peacock miraculous from the safe. She also found the grimoire and now she had recovered the two miraculous and the book of miracles all before 8 am and everything looked bright.

She stepped outside and was going to cast the cure when the was a flash and a smiling Wonder Woman and a Superboy holding up a phone.

"This is far too interesting to not document my sister, you will send me that won't you Superboy" he gave Ladybug a bright smile and nodded to Wonder Woman and Mari could only smile as she now cast the cure.

"We have a few things to discuss" she motioned to the Miraculous team to follow her. Leaving the Batboys, Wonder Woman, and Superboy in front of the Agreste Mansion.

They landed on the roof of Le Grande Paris. "Now that Hawkmoth was been defeated, and as guardian, I would like to know whether you would like to keep your Miraculous in order to protect others in this world?"

"But I thought" Chat was beginning to cry "Yes I want to keep being a hero." the others seemed to share his sentiment.

"Alright. Tikki spots off." in a flash there she stood as Marinette. "As a means to protect the Miraculous, hello my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng Wayne, but you guys already know that" she smirked.

One by one they dropped their transformations.

"Figures that the only idiot to be dorky enough to be Chat Noir would be you Adrien" Chloe rolled her eyes smiling.

"Meow-ouch your hurting me Queenie" Adrien feigned hurt.

"Chloe can we go to your room" Chloe nodded and they followed her.

"What is your plan Mari-hime?" Kagami asked once in the room.

"Chloe meet your father and set up a meeting/announcement for noon" Mari started.

"As me or Abeille?" she asked.

"Power up, you too Luka. I need you to go to the police, so that Gabriel and Natalie are present."

"What about me?" Adrien asked.

"You'll be on stage"

"Why?"

She was going to answer but Kagami beat her. "Your father is going to be revealed as a terrorist. Your involvement will be questioned. I assume that is why Wonder Woman is here."

Mari nodded." Everyone but you will be transformed but Chat will still be there"

"Do we want to know your plan, Melody" Luka questioned.

"I think its best you don't" she smiled. “we'll meet up when it's time, stay in touch" she transformed and was about to leave.

“Where are you going?" Chloe asked the question on everyone's mind.

"I need to speak with Wonder Woman then check in with my dad since I'm supposed to be in Gotham."

A collective group of "Ohs" sounded through the room remembering that their friend was supposed to be in America for the break.

She made it to her brothers, Wonder Woman, and Superboy. She then explained the planned conference and why she called Diana and Jon. At noon, the Mayor held the conference in front of City Hall. He stepped aside and allowed Ladybug to command the stage.

"Hello citizens of Paris. This morning my team and I" she motional to the Miraculous team to her left "With the aid of Gotham's vigilantes Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin" she motioned to her right "Were able to discover and defeat Hawkmoth and his accomplice Mayura.”

There were cheers from the crowd, but many were apprehensive.

Out walked Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Sancoeur being escorted by guards, behind them walked

Adrien and Wonder Woman.

Ladybug moved to stand next to Chat Noir and allowed Wonder Woman the stage. She draped the Lasso of Truth over them.

"This is the Lasso of Truth; it's power compels you to only speak the truth." she started "What are your names?"

"Gabriel Agreste"

"Natalie Sancoeur"

"Were you the villains Hawkmoth and Mayura?"

"Yes, I was Mayura" Natalie answered.

After an internal struggle Gabriel also spoke "I was Hawkmoth, and this is not where I fail Ladybug" he spat towards the young heroine.

"Why is that?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Lila Rossi aided me in creating Akumas as well as took them willingly, she will continue in spreading fear, hatred, and distrust for when I gain my freedom again." He looked smug until he realized he spoke aloud. Gabriel and Natalie were escorted off stage and Wonder Woman beckoned Adrien forward.

He willingly took hold of the lasso. "What is your name?"

"Adrien Agreste"

"Did you know your father was the Villain Hawkmoth?"

"I only learned that today" He answered "But I can totally see it with how neglectful and emotionally abusive he was as a father" he answered still holding the Lasso.

Everyone was now staring at the boy known as Paris' Teen heartthrob and sweetheart with looks and words condemning Gabriel.

Wonder Woman regained her composure and spoke "I believe this is a discussion best had in private." Adrien gave her a sheepish smile as she led him off stage.

"Ladybug, Ladybug, Ladybug" several reporters shouted but she ended on calling on Aurore.

"Ladybug are you, or any of the heroes on your team, going to stay and protect Paris, will the Miraculous remain active?"

"The Miraculous will remain active, if I or my team so wish to continue wielding them." she answered "the same can be said of Paris, if anyone from my team or I wishes to stay in Paris that is their choice, if they decide to protect another city it is within our right to do so. Bug Out." she finished and all the heroes on stage dispersed in every direction.

"You know you really can pull off orange" she hummed.

"I prefer my red and blue" Jon stated as he de-transforms, leaving Super boy in place of the fox.

"Who knew Superboy would make such a good fox" she teased.

"You know both of us can't lie to save our lives" he gave her a grin "but we can see through them much easier than most"

"Come on this go get ice cream to celebrate with everyone, they found Andre."

"Lead the way" he gave her a bright smile and they were off.

~~~~~~~~~~

Clear a few things up:

1. Lila stayed in Paris but everyone in the school knows she is a liar and take everything she says with a heaping ton of salt

2. Mari’s knowledge and control of her powers granted by the Miraculous were expanded as if she had held it for 15 years, that is reversed when she cast cure but is something she will be able to do later.

~~~~~~~~~~

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

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[batboyimagines]

Cold-Blooded [Damian Wayne x Male Reader]

Your Dad and your Ma’s relationship is... rocky to say the least. They were never actually together, no marriage or anything. It was just one night of bad decisions that made you.

So your birth wasn’t well planned. You think the reason your ma even kept you was because she was lonely. She’s raised you to the best her ability for they past fourteen years but it was only recently your dad found out. Now they have joint custody.

See, all of that isn’t normal per say, but it’s not bizarre or anything. Just two inexperienced, lonely people screwing up in more ways than one to make a whole nother screw up. However, your parents aren’t exactly average. One’s not even human. Anymore.

Medusa and John Constantine. By the gods, that’s probably the worst match imaginable. Moms great and all, you really do love her, but she’s a little crazy. Being exiled on an island all alone does that to you. And Constantine’s just... a mess. Not even a hot one.

Even so, you don’t mind being pawned between the two. They’re both great in their own ways and you appreciate the both of them. Right now you’re hanging out at your dad's house. Though it feels more like hanging out with an awkward uncle than a dad.

It’s nearing about 8:00 in the morning, not that you know that. You’re asleep on the couch, gazing blankly at the ceiling. You forgot to close your eyes while you sleep again. It’s sort of creepy.

A sudden pounding on the door startles you up, breaking the staring contest you were having with the ceiling. A contest which you totally won. You blink dazedly and the pounding starts up again.

Mournfully slipping out from under the soft, warm stack of blankets you slept under, you lumber towards the door. You squint through the peephole.

Through the peephole you see a warped view of six costumes lunatics of all sizes. You lean back from the door and let yourself have a begrudged yawn. Gods, it’s way too early for this. Dad’s still asleep even with all the racket.

The littlest lunatic in the hood pounds the door hard enough for it to shake in its frame and you decide you’ve had enough. You don’t bother with the chain latch and just open the door a crack.

“Do you know how early it is?” You groan. The little lunatic, who is actually around the same height as you, scoffs.

“It’s eight pm. A normal person would be awake and ready for the day by now.”

“Well, I don’t know how you people are up then because anyone who dresses like that isn’t normal.” The green guy snorts.

“Listen, we’re sorry to wake you, but is this the residency of John Constantine?” The guy in the black leotard asks.

“... no, why?” You ask suspiciously.

“We are the Teen Titans and we are in need of magical assistance.” The really tall, really exposed, redhead says. “We require his assistance, on behalf of the justice league.” You tense a bit at that.

Okay, you don’t hold the things that the gods did to your mom against those two members of the justice league, Aquaman and Wonder Woman. They seem like nice folks who really do want to do good and not for the selfish, vain reasons gods usually do, but…

They got their abilities from the same gods who really, really messed your mom up for no good reason. So call you petty, but you don’t want to associate with them.

“Sorry, he’s not here.” You say attempting to close the door on them. The hooded lunatic jams the door with his hand.

“This is a matter of utmost importance, you will take us to Constantine.” He demands. You scowl at him and try to shut the door on his fingers.

“Screw off weirdo, he’s not here!”

“He is, you are lying!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am NOT!”

“Are TOO!”

“Christ on a cracker, what the bloody hell is going on?!” Your dad shouts, slamming the door shut, fully unlocking it and swinging it back open. Looks like the racket finally got him up. He sags at the sight of the troupe of crazies. “The hell do you people want?”

“We need your help.” Leotard man says.

“Of course you do. With what, I mean?”

“My father, Trigon, has possessed the justice league and we need a way to stop him.” The girl in purple replies. Your dad tenses.

“Trigon, eh? Sounds like a piece of work.” He says. You pretend to cough.

“Says the piece of work.” You tease under your breath because what’s even the point of a dad if you can’t make jabs at his life choices? He gives you a look and you just grin up at him.

“Why should I help you? The kind of magic that I’d have to use against that guy is expensive and tricky. I’m not gonna do it outta’ the good of my heart.”

“Because if you don’t help us, he could destroy the world.” Leotard says.

“Of course he could.” Dad breathes out as he sags against the door frame. You pat his arm. He looks at you and you give him an awkward smile. It seems to help him to a decision. He straightens up. “Well, I guess I don’t want the world to end. I need somewhere for this one to grow up.” He pats your head affectionately.

“Thanks.” You say, a bit embarrassed. Half because that’s the sappiest thing he’s ever said to you and half because, well, it’s nice to know you mean something to him. Even if he didn’t know that you existed until a few months ago.

“Well, come on in then.” He says turning from the doorway and into the apartment. The troupe of crazy people that nearly just broke into your house follow. You flounder for a moment.

“Wait, seriously? We’re just gonna let some random strangers, who nearly just broke in our house, inside just like that?” Your dad looks a bit guiltily at you. 

“Sorry bud, but this happens a lot more than I’d like.” He raises his hand hesitantly and gently lays it on your shoulder. “You can go back to your mother while I deal with this, if you’d like.”

“No, no it’s okay,” You quickly reassure, “it’s not bad it’s just… kinda weird. You know it’s weird right?” He snorts.

“Of course I do, but to be honest it’s almost normal for my line of work.”

“You should get into a different line of work then.”

“You know, I probably should.” 

Leotard man clears his throat- you know what? You want to know their names before they commandeer any more of your father-son bonding time. “By the way, what are your names? I feel I should know them before we do anything else.”

“Oh! My apologies,” Redhead replies, “I am Koriand’r, of Tamaran. And this is Blue Beetle, Beast boy, Raven, Nightwing, and Robin. We are the Teen Titans.”

“No offense, but you look more young adult than teenager?” She smiles sheepishly.

“Well, I was part of the original titans. I am now the leader.”

“Oh, okay, makes sense.”

“Alright,” your dad cuts in, “so what’s your plan for Trigon? What exactly do you want from me?” He and the Teen Titans begin to plan. You stick around for a bit, to get an idea of what your dad does. It’s not very interesting. So ten minutes into planning, you slip away to make breakfast.

Now, your dad is a mess. Not kind of a mess, a straight up mess. The kitchen is almost a reflection of your father. It’s a huge mess. There’s takeout boxes and dirty dishes strewn across every counter, no room for literally anything there is so much garbage. And this is only a few weeks worth of build up. Dad actually cleaned up before you arrived. 

Before you can even begin cooking you have to clean off the counters for some space. You’re trying to balance takeout boxes on top of the overflowing garbage can when a voice sounds from the doorway.

“This place is repulsive.” 

“HUAUGH FUCK!” You whip around flinging the takeout boxes across the room. Hooded lunatic, uh Robin you think, dodges them expertly. He seems a little surprised. You clutch at your chest, “Jesus, Christ man!”

“Apologies, I… did not mean to startle you.” He raises his hands a bit, as if calming a rapid animal. 

“Apology accepted.” You calm your rapid heart. Your freak out seems to have spooked any animosity Robin had earlier. The two of you stand around awkwardly. He’s a stranger in your house and he’s in a strangers house, which does not make for easy conversational partners. He looks around, avoiding your gaze. His eye catches on a painting on the wall.

“That is… an interesting picture.” He tries.

“Uh yeah, that’s actually a picture of my mom.” You say, playing with your hands.

“That is Medusa.”

“Yeah, she’s my mom.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

“She doesn’t actually look like that, that painting’s really inaccurate.”

“Why does your father keep it up?”

“I dunno,” You’d feel weird cooking with him watching you, so you make your way past Robin and into the dining room, “I think either pettiness or affection.”

“Pettiness?” He asks following you.

“Yeah, I mean, they aren’t together? I think they were at least acquaintances before they, uh, ‘conceived’ me. But they don’t seem to like each other very much nowadays.” You say, pulling a chair out from the table. You push the one across from you out with your bare foot and gesture towards it. Robin hesitates a moment, but decides to sit down. “What about your parents? They like each other any more than mine do?”

“No,” He snorts, “I think they like each other much less.”

“Oh.”

The conversation stalls. You shift uncomfortably. Robin stares a hole into the grimy table. 

“Why not?”

“Pardon?”

“Why don’t your parents like each other?” He seems to think over his answer. 

“They are on opposite sides of the law.” 

“Oh, that’s tough.”

“Yes.”

“There’s tons of couples on opposite sides of the law though.” 

“Not them. My father’s moral code cannot bend to suit my mother.”

“Ah, I see.” You lean across the table and pat his arm. He looks at it a bit suspiciously, you pull it back. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“No need to apologize, I’ve already come to terms with it.”

“Yeah, well, still sucks.” You say standing up. “I was gonna make food, wanna lend me a hand? I’m still new to cooking appliances. And electricity.”

“How are these things new to you?” He asks, even as he stands up to help anyway.

“Dude. I grew up on an island with no electricity or WiFi. All of this,” you gesture to the space around you, “is totally alien to me.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, I will assist you.”

“Thanks.”

He failed to mention that he has never used a toaster either. You both nearly burn down the apartment, had it not been your dad’s fire extinguisher.

TO BE CONTINUED

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Jason Todd was raised on the streets, in Gotham’s filth, but the blood that was running through his veins was everything but. Jason was the last of a line of gruesome, death stained mages, necromancers who dealt in souls and flickering images of immortality. Jason was a fifteen-year-old boy who crawled out of his grave, weeks after he died, reanimated by powers he couldn’t understand or control, and struggled to feel alive even when his father was holding onto him.

AN: I finally get to post my @batfam-big-bang fanfic! I My lovely beta readers for this wonderful project were @nycis and @queerbutstillhere while my amazing artists were @darkmagyk and @paperedking and @zannakai. Check out their stunning pieces!!!

Read on AO3

I had a night I had a day I did one million stupid things I said one billion foolish things I'm not okay

If there are two emotions Jason knows well, they are  fear and anger. Both had accompanied him since his earliest childhood memories. His father’s shouting had been a constant source of anger and fear. His loud voice had forced Jason to hide beneath the table, his bed, the closet, all spaces he had falsely assumed would be too small for his father to reach. With bated breath he had waited for the screeching to stop until only his mother’s soft sobs had echoed through the rooms. Those too had angered Jason. He didn’t know whether it was on her behalf, because he had hated his father so much for causing her any pain, or because that anger had been for himself, the poor child whose mother wasn’t strong enough to leave her piece of shit husband.

On the streets, anger had kept him warm at night and fear had ensured he stayed alive. He had marveled at the shiny tires of the Batmobile, but even then, deep down, he had been so incredibly angry. He was going hungry while another drove a car like that. He had ignored his fear then and stolen the tires regardless.

It had been the best decision of his life.

So now, when once again  he was stuck between fear and anger, he chose to dismiss his fear and lash out instead.

“You can’t be serious!” Jason hissed, throwing up his arms.

Rage boiled beneath his skin like an active volcano. It infected his voice, his stance. He rose to his full height, making him the tallest in the room, but none of his siblings even blinked at it. They were too used to such simpleminded intimidation tactics, employed similar ones in front of villains who thought they could get the better of them.

“This is the right way,” Dick said, his voice strained with finality, a kind of authority he had no right to evoke.

He was not their leader, and he sure as hell was not their father. Dick barely understood what Jason was capable of and when he did, was too scared of it. The others didn’t see it, but Jason knew a coward when he saw one. Dick always tip-toed around Jason’s room like he expected the undead to crawl right out of it and drag him into a bloody casket. Beyond that, he also always took the patrol routes far away from Jason’s apartment complex and city district. Jason didn’t mind, he preferred it when the others kept their noses out of the Narrows and Crime Alley. His people didn’t particularly enjoy it either when the other bats and birds came around to play there as they tended to mess with the wards and ask uncomfortable questions. Jason understood too well how unsettling his presence could be and therefore knew very well that Dick had no room to make such decisions or judge Jason for them.

“The right way,” Jason repeated. “Do you even hear yourself? If everything was right, Bruce would still be here!”

Tim and Steph both winced when Jason said his name and even Dick’s face fell. They all didn’t understand it. Death was so final to them instead of just another state of being, one that Jason could reverse.

“I can bring him back,” Jason continued, desperation seeping into his voice. “Everything will be alright again. It’s all in these books. I just need your help.”

Why couldn’t his siblings just understand that he would fix it and then everything would go back to being the way it was before Darkseid had torn their lives to shreds. The Cave had become messy since Bruce’s death. It had been barely a month ago but it already showed despite best efforts. Jason had dragged all his books here to study and take notes, the constant hum of the technology as much a motivational hymn as it was a lullaby. His notes now were spread out all across the table, proudly displaying the work Dick was disregarding so very easily.

Dick only stubbornly shook his head. “No, Bruce wouldn’t want that.”

This wasn’t about what Bruce wanted, he was dead. This was simply about deciding how they were going to fix it.

“You don’t know that,” Jason countered. “It’s not like he wrote it in his will.”

Dick let out a low breath and dragged his hands through his hair as if Jason were causing him a headache. They had attended the reading of the will just hours before. Alfred had made sure they had all dressed up in proper suits the way they had for the closed casket funeral because there hadn’t been a body to recover. It would make it all more difficult to bring Bruce back without his original body to tie his soul too, but Jason was confident that he would be able to pull it off. Jason had only listened half-heartedly to the reading of the will. He knew its contents by heart, they all did. Every hero had a will set up and about ten proxies who knew every word and could recite it in case their death had been unnatural.

Alfred had been given custody over Damian while Tim had been emancipated. The Wayne fortune had been split five ways between Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, and Damian while Steph and Barbara both got a huge stipend. It was all for nothing, Bruce would be back. Cass knew it as well, or so Jason hoped. She hadn’t even bothered to show for the funeral but had left the city the night before. Jason wished she had stayed, she would support him.

Instead, Jason had to make everyone else listen to him.

Tim was still straight up in denial and didn’t believe that Bruce was dead. His parents had died around the same time, just two years earlier. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to handle it and escape into his delusions instead. Steph, for all that she was a part of the team and family, Jason’s closest confidant out of all of them, had chosen to stay neutral while Dick protested vehemently.

Damian, meanwhile, just thought that Jason wouldn’t be able to pull it off, but that could be blamed on his superiority complex. While the kid, a perfect mix of Talia and Bruce, could imitate Bruce’s accent and body language as well as he wanted to, he still reeked of al Ghul arrogance and the Lazarus pit’s side effects. It was a foul stench, poisonous, and foreign to this world. It had hurt Bruce when Jason had told him what exactly was keeping Damian’s heart beating, but there was nothing that could be done about it. It wasn’t like anybody else besides Jason actually noticed.

“Had he wanted to, we would know,” Dick said.

“But-“

“Jason, stop.” Dick’s order, his tone couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a bark, was harsh. “Bruce is dead and he will stay dead. You will not experiment on his soul just because you think you can bring him back.”

“I don’t think so, I know so,” Jason argued. “You’re just incapable of trusting me! You still think I’m a foolish kid who is just playing around with powers he doesn’t understand!”

His voice rose with every shouted word. It had always been like this. Dick thinking that Jason was crossing too many lines, wasn’t good enough to be Robin or anything. Hell, he had accepted Tim more readily as Robin than he ever had Jason.

“Jason-“ Tim tried to speak up, but was harshly cut off by Dick.

Trust big brother to always know best.

“Because you are!” Dick shouted back. It hurt, cut into flesh like sharp knives, but at the same time it was liberating. Finally, Dick was actually speaking his mind. Honesty, so Jason had learned, was the only way to keep moving forward. They all lied, it was a part of their training, came as natural as breathing, but there was a line you had to be aware of.

“Bruce is dead and you can’t let go. Instead of helping me figure out how to keep Gotham running, you run off and bury your head in old books to find a solution to a problem that isn’t there! He’s gone. I needed you on patrol tonight and you didn’t show.”

Patrol had been just fine, Dick hadn’t needed him. Jason had kept an eye on the comms, they had done as good as they could with three men down. It hadn’t even been a busy night.

“You’re just giving up!”

“And you’re delusional!” Dick retorted.

He picked up one of the pages the closest to him. The originally white paper was covered by ink stains, diagrams smeared uncaringly all over it while Jason had been trying to figure out what exactly his ancestors had gotten up to when they tried to raise the dead.

“This is too much, Jason. You’re only setting yourself up for my failure. I let you keep researching because I thought it would help, but it’s only hurting you. You have to let go.”

“And leave?” Jason spat out. “Like you always do the moment something goes wrong with Bruce?”

Dick froze. His annoyance and misguided worry slowly twisted into dark anger. At that moment, it just felt right. Dick had ceased pretending that he was so much better than them, that he wasn’t struggling without Bruce around. Jason loathed how he sat at breakfast every day, acting as if it was all still alright and fine, smiling and lying continuously.

“I-“ Dick interrupted himself, reigning in his anger as everybody else watched him with keen eyes. “No, no, I’m not having this discussion with you. None of us are on board with your reckless endeavor, so you’re not doing it and that’s final.”

Jason turned to look at the rest of his family, but they were all averting their eyes. Of course, they would all side with Dick over him. He was older, more experienced, the first Robin out of all of them.

He wasn’t the resurrected boy who talked to ghosts and turned living beings to worthless decay with nothing more than a touch.

“I see,” Jason replied and grabbed his jacket from the chair.

Fine, it wasn’t like he needed any of them anyway. It would have been easier with more living anchors, but Batman had left his mark all over the city. Gotham was his, even the magic that buried itself so far underground that hardly anybody could see it knew who it belonged to. Jason had plenty of anchors he could use to bring Bruce back. What were five children compared to an entire city?

“Where are you going?” Tim spoke up. He had barely said a word since Jason and Dick had started fighting, but Jason supposed that it made sense given that Tim thought both of them were wrong.

“Away from here,” Jason replied. “Since Dick is so keen on running this show himself, he can do it. I’m out.”

“What?” Steph asked. “Wait! Jason, no, you have to stay!”

“What I need to do is fix this.”

Jason picked his backpack up from the ground and started stuffing his papers into it. He didn’t particularly care in which order he did it, he would have to sort through them all anyway once he was back in his apartment. He needed to toss those that were trash and copy the calculations and incantations that actually made sense and seemed like they were a good first step onto fresh sheets. Maybe he should get actual parchment. He didn’t usually work with dead writing materials, but with whatever he had on hand. His spells were powerful enough without, but he couldn’t afford any mistakes here.

Once he was finished, he threw his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards his bike, not sparing the group behind him another glance.

“Jason,” Dick started once more.

Jason just threw his hands up, dismissing him.

“Don’t worry, Richard,” he said. “It’s not like I can stay dead for long if something goes wrong. Don’t bother contacting me. I’ll come back once I’m finished.”

He couldn’t see his older brother’s reaction, but Jason would bet that he had flinched. They all hated to be reminded of Jason’s death, but it wasn’t like Jason could erase that part of him.

Jason put on his bright red helmet and turned on his bike. Then, without looking back, he drove off, disappearing into the dawn of a new day.

[jasmehraj]

Why are there so many of you?

Morning with Alfred

Some more Mommynette. I hope you like the chapter.

________________________________________________________________

When Alfred entered the kitchen to start his daily morning routine, he was not expecting a Marinette sitting on the table drinking Coffee with dark eye-bags. All the kitchen was filled with various desserts like croissants, donuts, cakes, pastries, eclairs, and various types of macaroons.

"Mistress Marinette I assume you didn't sleep last night?"

She jumped spilling some coffee on the floor,"Sorry Alfred, me and Tim sleep cuddling so now I can't sleep without cuddling." She cleaned the coffee.

"You should tell this to the family, I am sure they will understand and might be able to help you." She shrugged and looked at the treats,"Since I couldn't sleep I started-"

"Stress baking." They turned towards the door just in time to see Mommynette coming inside.

The other Marinette greeted,"Good morning Mommynette." The name made her laugh.

She just responded,"Don't worry you will get a name too soon." Mommynette ruffled her hairs as the girl in question pouted.

"I am going to see if Tim is awake." She took another cup of coffee in her hand and exited the kitchen, blush still visible.

"Good morning Alfred." Mommynette said.

"Good Morning Mistress Mommynette." She cracked a smile at that.

"I came to assist you since you have a lot of guests to serve today."

"There's no need-"

"Enough with the nonsense Alfred. You are family to me no matter which universe I am in. Don't worry about my cooking. I know about all your dishes, I learned from the best after-all."

Alfred chuckled," Your Alfred must be very proud of you and Master, Mistress."

"Indeed he is. He gave Bruce a hug when he finally proposed to me."

"Your family must be really worried."

She sighed,"They are very attached to me but they know I can take care of myself and I have all the Miraculous with me."

"Oh. I assume you don't go outside that often. Since you only go when Madame Barbara is at home"

"Quite an observer like always Alfred. She is very happy that she can finally walk after all those years. I don't want to stop her. It makes her happy and that's what I want, to make them happy. I only go when when they need me. I don't use the miraculous. I do practice with them everyday but I feel unfair to use them. The kwamis are resting in my subconscious. I have made myself a temporary miraculous box. Papillon took a lot out of them." She sighed,"The children are so engaged in their vigilant life that they give little time to live actual life."

"Indeed Mistress Mommynette."

They prepared the breakfast. Alfred stopped her before she could exit the kitchen. "I assume we will need a lot of fabric judging our mistress' love for clothes."

"Indeed Alfred. They all will need new clothes. We can't give all of them boy's clothes. Who knows how long they can wait when inspiration stuck them."

With that they both went outside, laughing to call everyone for dinner.

BONUS:-

The whole bat family had just arrived the cave. All the boys tackled Marinette by a hug when they arrived in the cave. When they were done the girls also hugged her. "Okay. Okay. Now go and get changed."

They obeyed."Alfred let me massage your shoulders. You look uneasy."

"Its okay Marinette."

"NO Alfred. You have called me your daughter and its my duty to make sure you are healthy."

"Miss. Marinette-"

A blinding light engulfed the whole cave. Everyone ran to the cave half in uniforms and half in civies. When the light was gone Alfred stood up,"Miss Marinette."

Everyone looked around but there was no sign of Marinette.

There was a collective,"Beloved.""Mother.""Mom.""Mamma""Tati" and several gasps. Barbara went to the bat computer and searched for her using her tracker,"I can't track her."

Everyone got to work at that. Batman, Robin went to the Arkham. Jason went to the crime valley with Tim in tow. Barbara and Alfred searched for her through cameras. Cass, Stephanie and Dick went to find the Rogues who had escaped Arkham with fury and worry.

That night they searched every single alleyway. The supervillians were half beaten to death. No fight took more than 3 minutes. This time they didn't care if they hurt them they just had one thing in mind, they need to find Marinette.

The next day Arkham was fully filled with criminals to the brim. The Wayne's went into quarantine. The crime rate fell to 20%. They were getting desperate with time.

'Marinette, Where are you?'

________________________________________________________________

Hope you liked the chapter. Again sorry for not updating sooner.

Love,

Jasmehraj.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 12 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 2.8 K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

<- Previous part (11)

Next part (13) ->

{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

×

So The Whole World Knows

Bruce loves you. It's the first thing that comes to your mind when you wake up. You talked for hours, until late at night, and Bruce told you exactly when he started falling for you. It was on the day he went to Belle Reve to take in your papers. That was the first time he saw you, through the camera they had in your cell. You remember that day because the lights were turned on for fifteen minutes or so. But you would never guess it was for Bruce to see you. From that moment on, Bruce told you, he felt something change inside him. He also tried to push it back, ignore it, misread it. But he knew he had to help you.

It got a little messy when it was your time to speak. You stuttered like an idiot, struggling to find the right words to express yourself. Bruce did seem to find it a little funny, so you playfully slapped him a couple of times. But in the end, the three words finally came out, from your lips and from his. Bruce is dead serious about your relationship, and this time he told you with all the words. He assured and reassured you this is not just a fling or a crush. He wants what you have to be serious, solid. And you want the same.

Smiling, you move closer to Bruce, felling as his chest rises and falls with his steady breath. “Morning, sweetheart.” He says.

“Hey...”

“It's a little late, I bet.” He turns his head to look at the digital clock by the nightstand on his side of the bed. “Almost ten.” He starts moving to get up and you let out a groan.

“Five more minutes. C'mon.”

“I'm taking you out today, remember?” He sits up, looking down at you. “So get up and get ready.”

He's way more excited about this than you are. But you get on with the morning routine. Shower, breakfast, and you have to add dressing up on something other than sweatpants and tank top. You have just two pairs of jeans to choose from and a few blouses. Bruce got them for you a while ago, but you never had any reason to use them. You have a pair of white sneakers too. When you're done, you do look different. Normal... These simple-looking clothes are expensive, you can tell. You've had your share of stolen high fashion clothes, so you know the difference between clothes that normal people can buy and the clothes Bruce Wayne has access to.

“Are you ready?” Bruce calls and you leave the bathroom. “You look–”

“It's just sneakers, jeans, and a purple blouse.” You cut him off, rolling your eyes at the smile that comes to his lips. “You look very handsome in this suit.” You can't help but say, trying not to look for so long and leading the way out of the bedroom.

Bruce rathers have his driver taking you, so he can stay on the back seat with you. Seeing the city after all this time, almost a year and a half if you count with the time you were in Belle Reve, feels different. Even more because you're in the daylight, not trying to hide, and not planning any kind of mischief. It's like seeing everything for the first time. Gotham has it's a beauty... at least here, the good part of the city.

When Bruce tells the driver to stop, your heart skips a beat. He gets out first, and you're frozen, suddenly aware of people walking up and down the street. “Let's go,” Bruce says in a soft tone after he opens the door for you.

“Let's go,” you repeat, more to yourself than to him.

And you're off the car, holding Bruce's hand as you walk at a slow pace. You get the feeling that people are staring. At you, at Bruce, and them at your holding hands. It's good to know that they don't seem to know who you are. Bruce takes you to a few stores so you can buy your own clothes. You resist a lot because you keep checking the price tags even though he told you not to. You stop by a restaurant to have lunch before you hit different stores. At some point you know you have more than you need right now, but he doesn't seem to see it that way.

“They don't recognize me,” you mutter as you pass by a small group of people.

“You're different. And not just because of the hair color.” He looks down at you, smiling.

Biting your lip, you hold back a smile too. As you look at the store's display, you slow down until you stop before a window. There's a necklace in a display, with three pink stones. Acting out of pure instinct, your eyes scan the store's entrance for cameras. Two. “I could steal it, you know.” You decide to tell Bruce, just to tease him. “One of those cameras is broken. And even if it wasn't, it never stopped me before.” You wink at him as he raises his eyebrow, starting to move again.

“Come.” He grabs your arm, pulling you inside the store.

“No,” you exclaim, trying to pull him back to the street. Which is useless. “Bruce, c'mon.”

“Ma'am. I'd like to see that piece you have on display. The necklace with the pink diamonds.”

“Diamonds?”

The woman does as he says, and seconds later she puts the piece on the desk before you. “This is a unique piece. The designer never makes the same piece twice. A true jewel.”

“It sounds super expensive.”

“Well, you can't expect to buy something unique for a low coast.” She says, even though you weren't talking to her. “Are you going to take it, Mr. Wayne?”

“Let's see.” Bruce takes the necklace from the display and moves to stand behind you. “Pin your hair up for me, please.” He asks when he notices that you won't move. Taking a deep breath, you do as he says, and Bruce puts the necklace around your neck, pulling you to stand before the mirror. “What do you think?”

The delicate stones looks beautiful, obviously, and you touch it with your fingertips. “I think it wasn't meant for someone like me,” you whisper.

“I think you're wrong. And it's you that makes the necklace look even more beautiful.” Bruce places a soft kiss on your shoulder before turning back to the woman. “I will take it.”

Unbelievable. “You shouldn't spoil me, Bruce Wayne,” you tell him when you're leaving the store.

“After everything you went through in that hell, I will spoil you... Just a little bit.”

“Well... I think we can go home now. Or do you want to take me somewhere else?”

“You will need a dress for today's gala.”

“What?” You stop walking again, turning to look at him. “What gala?”

“I have another dull party to attempt, and I thought it would be a good chance to introduce you to the city.” He says as if it's no big deal to take a wanted criminal to a high society party, where everyone will not only see but photograph you.

“Bruce, people will... Everyone will see that we're together... What will they–”

“Haven't you considered the possibility that I might want people to know we're together?”

“But...”

You don't even have the chance to think about what the hell you were going to say next because Bruce pulls you into a kiss. It's slow, as if you're weren't in the middle of the sidewalk of a very hectic street. But soon enough there's no one else. As you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, you deepen the kiss. The world fades away, and nothing else matters. And you feel like you can deal with the gala as long as you're with him.

• • •

As much as you love the silver dress Bruce gave you for your birthday, your back is still a little messed up. So your new dress, in a dark shade of blue, covers it. It's crazy how Bruce has to help you figure out what to do with your hair. Luckily, Diana is still here to intervene. She helps you make some waves and pin half of it up, to so it'll stay away from your face except for a few locks. You're worried sick about this gala thing as you go downstairs, and to the living room, where Bruce is waiting. He smiles when he sees you, and you blush and look down.

The short trip to the gala is silent because you're gathering the courage you'll need. When the car stops, you're taken aback by the countless photographers and journalists.

“Are you ready, my love?” Bruce asks, holding your hand. You nod, taking a deep breath. “I'll open the door for you and those flashes will be on your face. There will be questions, and probably a headline about Bruce Wayne's girlfriend tomorrow.”

“I know.” Nodding at him, you watch as he gets out. Bruce stops and waves for the cameras for a while before walking around the car and opening your door.

The world slows down as you step out, holding onto Bruce's arm, trying your best not to look more misplaced than you already do. “Just smile.” He whispers before placing a kiss on your cheek. And you do as he says, smiling and even waving a little. There are countless cameras flashing, microphones, and a lot of questions, so many you can't even understand most of them. Some want to know your name, why you showed up with Bruce Wayne if it's right to assume you're in a relationship. But since Bruce doesn't seem like he'll answer any of them, you keep your mouth shut. “Time to go in. Let them freak out about it.”

“Okay.” You let him guide you inside, a hand on the small of your back.

This gala takes place in a luxury hotel, and its main hall is sophisticatedly decorated. Everything seems terribly expensive and breakable, and the people seem to be stupidly rich. You even recognize some of them. Politicians, philanthropists, CEOs... You stole from some of these guys and here you are now, at the same party, as if you belong.

“Bruce...”

“What is it?” You stop by your table, and he pulls the chair for you to sit.

“What happens if only one person here recognizes me?” Would they call the police? Start running? Yelling? It would certainly be a mess, and the last thing you want is to ruin this. Bruce decided to bring you here so the city will see you, and to make a point to those women who still insist on trying to get him... And because he wanted your company. You can't even count how many times he told you that having you here would make this dull gala become something great... Bringing yourself to believe it it's still hard, but you're trying not to doubt him anymore. He has been proving that everything he says is true.

“They won't, my love. And even if they did... You're with me, remember? Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“Bruce Wayne.” A woman stops by, the same you saw some time ago from your window, hugging him in the garden. “So the rumors are true. You actually came with a girl.”

“Angela, this is (Y/N), my girlfriend.” He says, smiling as you reach out your hand to shake Angela's. There's a sting of anger in your chest, and for a moment you don't know why. But it must be jealousy, right? Bruce told you they're just old friends, but the image of the hug, and what you thought it meant back then floods your mind. But you bring back to memory everything Bruce said, and everything he has done.

“Nice to meet you, Angela. Bruce told me a lot about you.”

“Only the bad things, I hope.” She giggles and you offer her a smile. “You better be ready to see your face on every news channel tomorrow night. The woman who finally got into Bruce Wayne's heart.”

“I've been warned,” you say, exchanging a glance with Bruce.

“Well, take good care of him. He can be a little... Complicated.”

“You have no idea how.” Oh, if she only knew about his night job...

“I will leave you two. I still need to make my presence known to some very boring people.” With a last smile, she walks away.

“And I should do the same.” Bruce stands up.

“Okay.” You're starting to accept the fact that you'll have to sit here alone for a while when he reaches out his hand. “What?”

“Did you think I'd leave you here?” You take his hand and stand up, and he pulls you to his side. “I won't leave you alone.”

Biting your lip, you hold back a smile.

Now you get why Bruce finds these parties so dull. He walks around, meeting people, engaging in small conversations, complimenting random things... The difference now is that he's introducing you to every single one of them, as his girlfriend. Saying that they're surprised is a misunderstanding. They're perplexed because they don't seem to recognize you from any of the high society families of Gotham. Or from anywhere else.

As the night goes by, you feel the anxiety vanishing. You even give your opinion about some things. Politics, company administration, economy. It makes Bruce give you a proud smirk, that you'll make sure to tease him about later.

When the formal talk is over, and the music starts playing, Bruce takes you to the middle of the hall, and you dance among the rest of the people. The photographers are allowed in, but not the journalists. And it doesn't take much until some of them reach you, and the cameras start flashing.

“As soon as they get a few good shots, they'll leave,” Bruce reassures you.

“I'm alright. It doesn't bother me.” You have your eyes fixed on him, but you close them when your foreheads touch.

“There's something else I need them to get on camera. To make things one hundred percent clear.”

“What?”

Bruce closes the final distance between the two of you, capturing your lips on a soft, warm kiss. And it happens again, the rest of the world disappears. The flashes, the gossip... Nothing else matters.

• • •

“Bruce, I'm on TV,” you yell from the living room. “And not because I broke the law.”

He comes from the kitchen with a smile, handing you a bowl of ice cream before sitting beside you on the couch. “What are they saying?”

“The girl who came out of the blue stole Bruce Wayne's heart. The most wanted bachelor is now taken. Sorry, girls.” you add the last sentence, shrugging your shoulders. “Same thing that channel five.”

“I got calls. People asking for an interview with you.”

“Oh, no. They'll ask about my past. What the hell am I going to say?”

“You don't have to say anything. They don't have to know.” He gestures for you to move closer, and when you do, he pulls you so you're seated in between his legs, comfortably leaning against his chest. “Nothing else matters, remember? Just you and me.”

“Nothing else matters,” you repeat, closing your eyes for a moment to feel the soft kiss he places on your shoulder. “Life is good, you know? It's finally good.” Your mind floats back to your troubled past, when you had many things, expensive things, everything money could get. And how empty it was. Flash forward to today, here, in Bruce's arms, you finally feel complete, loved, like you found your place in the world without having to steal it, or put on a mask to conquer it.

“There's only one thing left, my love. Your freedom.”

Moving so you can look at him, you sigh. “Even if I have to be here, not being allowed to go out there again, I'd still be happy, you know.”

“But I want you to have everything. To be free to go for a walk if you want, to make friends and hang out with them. Graduate and find a job you enjoy... All the things you never had.”

“Maybe it's more than I deserve.”

“You deserve it. More than those guards who torture you. They're criminals too, as were you.”

The simple fact that the said it in the past makes you smile. “I love you, Bruce.”

“I love you too.” You both focus on the news again, watching an entire show decided to talking about you. Countless photos and videos of Bruce come to the screen, and you can't help but look with admiration. You look good, despite seeming a little clueless in the beginning, but then you look almost normal, holding onto Bruce's arm. The gala was nice, and you felt a little special by being there, but the best part was coming home with Bruce and having the silly little things you have. Having dinner together, falling asleep together. Happiness isn't enough to describe it. You'll have to create a whole new word.

×

@fionanovasleftnut @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker @rosalynshields

[kimberly-spirits13]

For Wandering Dreamers (Pt. 2)

 Synopsis: After hearing your parents argue about something for what feels like the zillionth time that night, you escape to your books and comics for some escaping of reality. Just as the argument ends with slamming doors, a note and locket landed on your bed. Inscribed on the note was a promise of new adventures and a better life awaiting you.

Notes: Y/F/D= Your Favorite Drink  Y/N= Your Name   Y/N/N= Your Nickname   Y/F/P= Your Favorite Playlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1979

          You woke up to the sound of someone trying to wake you up and small beams of golden sunlight peaking in through the curtains of your bedroom.        

           “Y/N, it’s time to get up.” You rolled over and rubbed your eyes to see Damian stepping back. His emerald green eyes sparkled in the light and you smirked some siting up and taking your hair out of the two braids that it was in, revealing wavy hair

           “What time is it?” You mumbled yawning.

           “it’s 9:15 in the morning. Alfred has breakfast prepared downstairs.” He informed you as you rolled out of bed fixing your shirt.

           “Thank you. I’ll be downstairs shortly.” You said, “Wait, where is the kitchen?”

           “So, you can make your way to the Batcave and the Fortress of Solitude but not the kitchen?” He chuckled, “You surprise me more and more every minute.”

           “Well, I have seen blue prints on Google of the house but it was how someone imagined it so I cannot guarantee that that is actually how to get downstairs.” “And also, you will find that I am in fact very impressive in multiple ways.” You smiled getting out one of the outfits that you packed.

           Running into the bathroom as Damian waited outside on the bed for you, you changed into your favorite colored thinner hoodie, denim jacket, dark grey ripped jeans, black and white Adidas, and you put your hair up. After that you brushed your teeth and then headed out to go downstairs with Damian.

           “Try and take the lead.” He challenged, “Just see if you can make it to the kitchen.”

           “Fine.” You replied walking down the hallway, eventually to a set of stairs.

           “Oh, what floor are we on Damian?” You asked.

           “Just the second.” He answered.

           “Cool.” You walked down the flight of stairs which seemed never ending and then to a double staircase that led to the massive living room and to the side, the kitchen.

           “It wasn’t that hard.” Damian remarked behind you.

           “Mhmm.” You rolled your eyes getting a small laugh from Jason who was leaning on the counter.

           “So, you must be Y/N?” Jay asked.

           “Yep.” You answered, “Oh Jason, just for your information, all of Tumblr wants you to know that you’re awesome.” “It’s a social media platform where I’m from.” You explained, “I don’t know if you guys have it.”

           “Finally, some recognition around here.” He threw his hands up in exasperation, “And what does Tumblr say about the rest of the crew?”

           “It’s pretty unsurprising really.” You answered, “Dick is the mother hen, you’re the awesome one that everyone loves, Tim is the sleep deprived little bean,” you laughed some and continued pulling up a link on your phone, “According to this, Damian is a small deadly cupcake, Cass is an amazing and beautiful person who everyone would seriously die for, Steph is a waffle queen, Babs is just a queen... no a goddess, Bruce is the mom jeans dad, and Alfred is superior to all. Oh, and Kate is a badass, Duke is the sane one, and seriously at the end of this it says that the writer would die for every one of you guys.” “So yeah, you guys are pretty popular.”

           Jason was wheezing laughing at Tim and Damian’s description and Dick was slightly offended before be introduced himself. You guys talked a lot much to what seemed to be the to the jealously of Damian for some reason. You wouldn’t admit it but Damian was your favorite Robin. You had had a crush on him but you know, that didn’t need to come to light.

           You sat down at the table and was talking to Damian again who was seated next to you as everyone sat down. They were asking questions and introducing themselves little by little. It was just as you had imagined it on the nights that you dreamed of leaving home or scrolling through some sort of fan fic. The breakfast was amazing and was enough to make you remember that you actually had a life outside of this. Plus, would Bruce pay for education? You weren’t really expecting that but it was the summer time so you assumed that there was no need to worry about that yet.

A few weeks later...

           You were walking around Gotham with Damian the day after the third gala that you had attended. It wasn’t hard to become fast friends with Cass, Babs, and Steph seeing as how they were literal queens of the entire Batfam and the rest of the family welcomed you with open arms, but recently you and Damian haven’t been spending as much time as the two of you would like to. It was something that he had “voiced” after kind of ignoring you for a few days which led to some interrogation on your end, plus some slight teasing.

           Finally, you guys were doing something that didn’t involve six other people, even if those *other people* were very much welcomed. The two of you walked down a sidewalk into a coffee shop where you proceeded to grab a table for the two of you and Damian got the drinks. He came back and smiled some, sitting down and passing you Y/F/D.

           “Thank you.” You said taking a sip from the drink.

           “Anytime.” He answered before the look of an idea graced his face, “There’s a book store not too far from here that you’d probably like.”

           “Is it a Barnes and Noble or just corner/ local shop?” You inquired.

           “It’s a corner shop just down the street. Trust me, it’s better than any Barnes and Noble you’ve ever seen.” He answered.

           “Wanna bet on it Dames?” You chuckled some.

           “Only if you’re prepared to lose Y/N/N.” Damian challenged, “If this is the most impressive book store you’ve ever walked into, I get to take you out on a date Friday night.”

           “Well, then, I might purposely lose, Wayne.” You smiled at him some, the look of brilliant trouble glazing over your eyes, “And if I win, you can take me out and kiss me after the store.”

           “I might do both regardless.”

           You raised a brow, “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go see this awe -inspiring book store.”

           You guys walked down the street, swarmed by the media and paparazzi as they were getting pictures of Gotham’s newest unconfirmed couple. The two of you stopped in front of a store that read, “Corner- Shop Books.”

           “Straight to the point I see.” You said sarcastically as you guys walked inside.

           “Mhmm.” Damian looked to see your reaction which was almost immediate.

           The shop was bigger than you expected. There were shelves everywhere and a small sitting area near the middle of the store. In the back, there were stairs that lead to another floor of books and the seemingly infinite sea of literature drew in anyone that gazed into its glass doors. You were still for a second, admiring the large room and then walking around some, leaving Damian behind for a few seconds.

           To Damian, watching you was like watching a kid in a candy shop. You gently ran your fingers over some of the intricate spines of the books, making your way to the classical literature, and then myths, history, and up the staircase to where the fiction and fantasy was.

           He smiled as you looked so at peace in the world. It was the first time that he had really seen you this comfortable aside from some of the moments where you two were alone in the library reading or out in the gardens having conversations on whatever subject or topic you were interested in discussing. The thought that you guys might be here for hours crossed his mind, but was quickly brushed away once he saw the excited look on your face as you found something that was interesting enough to grab hold of your ever -wandering attention.

           “What is this one about?” He asked referring to the hard -back book with a beautiful pale pink and gold cover, and what looked to be part of a castle on the spine.

           You were reading the synopsis of the book before answering him, “It’s a book about a princess that comes from a lineage where the first of the family was a “god killer” of sorts. He defeated the goddess of death when she decided to take over the land and now the goddess, 300 years later, is back to reclaim her throne.” You stopped for a second, “It’s also got a male character who acts as an assassin for the king and may or may not be the romantic interest of the trilogy.”

           “The boxed set is right there if you’d like it.” He picked it up and handed it to you.

           “I’d like to not spend a ton of money on books until I find a job or something.” You said putting the book down.

           “I’ll get it for you. Just get what you’d like, the bookshelves in your bedroom are looking empty as of late except for the few you managed to bring. I can see how you stare at it sometimes with the look of dissatisfaction during some of our conversations.” Damian offered, joking some at the last part.

           “Dames, it’s okay I-“ He cut you off.

           “I insist Y/N.” He said handing you the box of books.

           You gratefully smiled at him and offered a thank you before continuing along in the store to hunt for more books. It was maybe three hours before you guys left. You had a few bags of books and thanked Damian profusely. He insisted that it was totally fine and you kind of stopped once you reminded yourself that he was, in fact, the son of a billionaire.

           Once back in the manor, you had run upstairs to start organizing your shelf, you know, as any book worm might. It wasn’t long before you got a knock at the door and you were pretty sure you knew exactly who it was.

           “Come in.” You turned off Y/F/P and waited for the person to come in.

           Damian walked into your room and shut the door, “So, about the bet.” He asked, “Was it the most impressive book store you’ve ever seen?”

           You thought for a moment, “Well I mean, the one in New York was really cool that one time, oh there was that one from Jersey...” You looked up and smiled, “Just kidding. And yes, it was by far, the best bookstore I’ve ever seen.”

           He smiled and walked to you, putting his hands on your waist, “Then I hope that you will keep your end of the bargain and accompany me to dinner Friday night?”

           “I will.” You replied, your breath hitching some at how close you two were, “I am slightly disappointed that you didn’t lose though.”

           “And why is that Y/N?” He asked.

           “Because now, you don’t have to kiss me.” You smirked some as he stared you intensely.

           “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” With that, he pulled you into a long kiss, you ran your fingers through his hair at one point, and he pulled you dangerously close to his chest.

           Once you broke apart he spoke up, “Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?”

           “That’s an offer I cannot pass up.” You answered, “100%.”

           “Well then beloved...” You smiled at the name remembering it from the fan fics, “I hope you have something to wear for our date.”

           “I’ll find something.” You looked at your stack of books debating whether or not to start shelving them.

           Your thoughts came to a stop when you heard that dinner was ready, you would just do it while Damian was on patrol. You were a night owl anyways, so it wouldn’t matter.

Ya’ll I’m dying I haven’t had literally any sleep but here we are lol. I hope that you guys had a great Easter and are doing well. If you have any requests, please send them in. I hope that you guys are staying safe and are well have a good day and keep sane! 😊

[hobbitsnapes]

The Red Hoods Protègè chapter 5

Older Damian Wayne x ofc

(Photo made by my lovely friend @bakketsux)

Summary:Red hood has taken a young vigilante under his wing and subsequently changes Damians life forever. (I suck at summary’s)

A light streams through the blinds, shining a light into Damians eyes as he stirs awake. He opens his eyes and looks around him for the cause of him waking up besides the light.

He looks down and sees Titus awake sitting on his feet. The large dogs ears perk up at seeing him awake. Damian sits up and scratches behind the large dogs ears, a smile forming on his face at the sight of his dogs tongue hanging from his mouth. Titus rolls into his back as Damian rubs his tummy.

Damian gets up and goes to his closet. Pulling out some sweatpants and a random shirt. He puts his clothes on and brushes his hair back to tame the mess of bed head hair he’s got. Titus barks at him signaling that he’s tired of waiting.

Damian smiles and grabs the handle to the door and Titus walks down the large hallway towards the kitchen. When he walks in he sees Tim pouring his usual mug of black coffee with enough sugar to rot a persons teethe. His long hair falling in his face clad in a white button up shirt and dark brown slacks with black dress shoes.

Damian walks over and grabs Titus his bowl and puts his food in for him, the dog munching almost immediately after its set on the ground. He grabs some bread and throws it in the toaster. He then pours himself a glass of coffee.

The two men stand at the kitchen island and enjoy their breakfast in silence. Due to growing older and living in the same mansion for over 8 years the two brothers have simmered down their obvious hated towards one another. They aren’t close by any means, but they can stay in a room together and not try to rip their throats out. Sometimes they can even have a small conversation here and there without a screaming match. Tim grabs some papers off the table, and heads to the door on his way to presumably a meeting.

After him and Titus finish eating he puts his cup in the sink and heads back to his room to get ready for the day properly.

He goes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth and grabs his sneakers and heads out the door.

He steps outside and is hit by the fresh smell of the flowers planted by the door, the ray of the sun a warm welcome to his bare skin as he strips his shirt off and starts his run. He runs around the manor a few times and then starts for the trail into the woods, Titus is right behind him as he jogs through the tall trees, the wind carrying a strong smell of oak and pine. He stops his run and heads back for the manor to finish up some work for the day.

The sound of the busy streets and yelling of people drown out any other sounds in the night as Damian swings from his grapple hook to a large building to watch over the dark but bright city.

He sees a figure on a rooftop and goes to inspect who it could be. He lands on the roof silently and watches the figure as they sit on the edge and look down.

“You know, for how quiet you are, you’d think of wearing all black so you don’t stand out like a soar thumb.” It was her, but why was she sitting on the ledge of a building? Shouldn’t she be with Jason? Or anything else? The questions kept swirling in his head until he heard her speak again.

“Are you just gonna stand there or something? Don’t you have crime to go fight?” “Tonight’s been fairly uneventful, no big drug deals, no evil scientists trying to kill us all or anything tonight. Seems like the bad guys took a vacation tonight.” “Who knows, maybe condiment king has something he’s planing, he’s gonna paint the whole city in ketchup and mustard!” This made Damian chuckle, “maybe crazy quilt plans to blanket the entire city in a huge quilt and drown us all in fabric.” He says back. This made the girl laugh, a laugh he never expected from her. It wasn’t full of sarcasm like he expected. It was almost a mix of a giggle and a regular belly laugh. The sound sounding, innocent almost.

She lowers her head as she laughs as a large warm smile graces her usually bratty and cold face. “M-maybe kite man and-and crazy quilt are teaming up to take over the city!!” She says through her laughs. This got Damian to laugh himself. Both enjoying the calm but funny atmosphere they have for the first time.

“Wow you can laugh, you could’ve fooled me into thinking you had no emotions like the bats.” “You know I’m not a robot, I do have some feelings.” “Yeah, I guess we all do don’t we. Even when we try our hardest not to show it.” Her once happy and playful voice taking a sad, broken sounding voice. She looks down at the city, Damian taking a seat a foot away from her. “Why are you up here?” “I could ask you the same thing.” “I saw you sitting here, didn’t know who you where until I got on the roof. But that doesn’t answer my question.” “Just some memories, that’s all I’m gonna say.”

The two sit there in silence as they watch over the city. The bright lights cashing a large light into the black sky. “Hey.” Damian looks at her, her head turned towards him but looking slightly down. “I’m sorry for saying you’re no robin. I see how much good you do for the city, and how much you care for the innocent. You’re just not what I expected whenever I thought of who robin is. But I’m not sorry for killing them. I don’t want to kill every single one. I get some can be helped and I want that. But some just can’t and will kill more and more until they die.” “As Batman always says, that’s not our decision to make. It’s not our job to decide who lives and who dies. Or job is to stop them and put them away.” “But what if you could save millions, just by ending one? What if you could make this city or even the world a better and safer place where people can enjoy life? Where, kids won’t be ripped away from their family?” Her voice broke as she said kids. He wonders what could’ve happened to her but before he can think anymore she stands up. “I’m gonna head towards the docks and see if there’s anything.” She jumps off the building but before she hits the ground she grapples towards the next building, Damian watching her until she disappears into the night.

The sounds of guns being loaded and the heavy footsteps of boots walking on the floor fills the small room. Angel starts putting on her suit in her bedroom. Starting at the legs and pulling the tight material up her legs, then when it reaches her hips she takes a deep breath as she slips it up her torso and her arms. She then Secures her hood over her head, finally putting her mask on and heads out her door.

When she steps into the living room she sees Jason’s shoulders are tense, his body rigid as he hurily gets his weapons ready. “I don’t want you going out tonight.” “What, why?” She’s confused, she’s gone out plenty of times with him, she’s fought plenty of people and monsters twice his size and he’s never had an issue with it before, so why this time?

“It’s bane, it’s way too dangerous for you to go on this one. I’m not even gonna mess with him on this one.” “I’ve gone up against croc before and handled myself.” “And crocs just an animal. He’s lost so much of his humanity that his strength is literally that. His strength. Bane not only matches croc in brute force but he’s got brains of a genius. It’s way too dangerous and I don’t want you getting hurt. There’s just some criminals I don’t want you to fight up against and that’s final.” “You know I get I’m Legally your daughter but I’m not fragile. I have to learn at some point and I don’t want you to keep babying me.” “I said this is final. You’re not going out tonight.” “And what if you get hurt? What if he gets a hold of you and hurts you because you went alone?” “Yeah and I’d much rather be the one hurt or dead over my daughter!” At this point Jason has moved over to her, looking her dead in the eyes as he says this. “Yeah and you’re my dad! You know I sometimes can’t tell if you’re holding me back like a baby or if you’ve got a suicide wish! Is that why you won’t let me go after joker?!” “Don’t you DARE bring up that bastard's name!” At this point both of them are shouting at one another. The Loudness of their voices booming off the walls. “Well we have to at some point cause you treat me like I’m fragile glass that’ll break after one fucking hit!” “I SAID THIS IS FINAL! YOU’RE NOT GOING OUT ON THIS ONE TONIGHT! I’LL BE DAMNED IF I LOOSE YOU TOO!”

She can see tears threatening in Jason’s eyes. She doesn’t respond not out of fear of what he’ll do to her, but out of worry for the man she thinks of as her father. “Then I’ll be watching the news making sure you’re okay. Just please promise me one thing.” “What is it.” “Don’t get yourself killed, I need you just as much as you need me dad.” Her voice cracks as she speaks. Tears pooling in her eyes.

Jason pulls her into a bone crushing hug as tears escape both their eyes. “I promise I won’t sweet girl, I’ll never leave you.” “I love you dad..so much.” She sobs. “I love you too my sweet angel. I’ll always come home no matter what, you’re my world.” Jason kisses her forehead then let’s go of her. He puts his helmet on and steps out the door, taking a look at her and then shutting the door.

She paces around the living room as she watches the tv.

Fear and anxiety making it impossible to sit as she watches the mayhem unfold. Bane broke out of blackgate along with his mercenaries, the streets filled with bodies as the men forged on.

She has been keeping an eye out for Jason, he hadn’t been seen the entire night but she knew he was there. The men who fought alongside bane had bullet holes to the head as the numbers dwindled down.

While she was relieved to see he was keeping to his word by not going after bane, she was still frightened that the criminal mastermind would trick him and hurt him or, she couldn’t even imagine what the last option was as tears threatened again.

She stopped in her probably 100 track around the room at the sight of bane holding Jason in the air. Her heart stopped as he threw him as if he was a rag doll. She knows she promised him she wouldn’t go out. But at the sight of him laying on the ground was all she could think of as she strapped her weapons to herself. She never took her suit off in case something like this were to happen.

She ran out the door and hopped on her bike as she sped down the streets as fast as she could. The wind crashing against her, not helping the feeling of the blood pumping all throughout her body. Her heart hammering in her chest the closer she got.

She saw the sight of Batman fighting bane no more than 100 feet away as she jumped from her bike and sprinted to her dad.

In the time she got there Jason somewhat recovered enough to keep fighting. “I TOLD YOU TO STAY BACK!” He yelled as he fired off at another mercenary. “YEAH WELL I SAW YOU GET THROWN LIKE A DOLL AND SLIDE DOWN THE BUILDING LIKE A SLINKY!” She yells as she stabs a man charging after Jason. The pair fighting beside one another as more and more men try to take them down.

She sees a flash before her eyes and sees a man behind her knocked out. She looks up at the sight of Robin looking at her. She nods her head as she runs towards Jason. She pulls out her gun and shoots another man in the head and grabs another man's head and slams it into a window.

The adrenaline pumping through her as she fights the hardest she’s had to before. She’s gone up against plenty of men who are triple her size but has never gone up against trained assassins before.

She hears a yell come from behind her and sees Batman thrown into a building. His body laying on the ground momentarily. But as quickly as he was thrown he shakes his head and gets back up only to be picked up by the throat by bane. Before she can do anything Robin charges at him and hits him with enough force to knock bane onto the ground.

The 2 fight for a few seconds until she sees it. The shine of the blade coming into view and before it’s in the air she charges over and swings up and locks her legs around his head. She pulls her grappling gun and strangles him as she kicks him in the head whilst still holding the rope around his neck. But as she jumps off from him completely he reaches out and takes a hold of her and throws her to the ground. The impact alone knocking all the wind from her body as he hits her in the back. A scream ripping through her at the impact cuts through her. He hits her again in the side as another scream comes out but much weaker as she feels the pain rip through her from the inside out. But nothing is as bad as the searing white hot pain in her back.

As she lays on the ground the need to breathe becomes harder as she sees bane taken down.

She lays there as she hears footsteps come towards her. Fearing this is the end until a figure crouches down to her. The image fuzzy until she sees the cape and mask of robin. Even with a mask covering his eyes she sees the fear and panic cover his face. “Help me, please. It hurts so badly.” She sobs out as best as she can. “I know it does, I’m going to take you away from here, everything’s gonna be okay.” She feels him slowly pick her up and cradle her to his chest as she wraps her arms around him. His other arm going to her legs as he picks her up and starts running.

The feel of his arms holding her as her face is in his chest making her want to fall asleep as the pain subsides.

She doesn’t remember how long he ran for until she feels him lower to the ground whilst still holding her to him. He unwraps his arms from her legs and sets her on the ground. She opens her eyes to see him taking his cape off and ripping it and wrapping it around her thigh. She hadn’t even realized she had been cut until the sting of pressure from the material being wrapped around it. A groan leaving her body at it. “I know it hurts but I need to stop the bleeding.” He goes to her stomach and rubs slightly, the feel of his hands both firm but gentle as he feels for anything broken. A groan leaving her as he reaches her waist. “you broke your fourth rib on your right side but thankfully it missed your appendix. The best thing to do is to let it heal as it doesn’t feel detached. Where else does it hurt?” She can’t answer him as she feels as if she’ll fall asleep any second. “Hey hey hey stay with me okay. I know you’re tired but I need you to stay awake for me okay?” She hears the fear in his voice as she opens her eyes again. “Tell me where it hurts so I can help you.” She grabs his hand from around her, a small shock at the warmth of his skin. She brings it to the side of her back and a cry leaving her at the feeling of his palm resting on her skin. “There’s no bleeding and I don’t feel anything protruding out. Maybe when he threw you it knocked something out of place or twisted something.” “It just hurts so bad and I’m. Im so cold.” She shakes as the chill in the air reaches her bones. “Hold on let me help you.” His arms again wrap around her as she feels his cape being draped over her body. She’s again flushed to his chest as she hears him talking. “Batman I’m in an alley between a Italian restaurant and a maroon apartment building a quarter a mile away from your location. Bring red hood with you. Archangel was hurt but nothing dire but a broken rib, a gash on her right thigh and a possible spinal disc herniation on the upper back.” She didn’t hear anything back but knew her father was on his way to her. “I need you to stay away for me okay. Tell me how did your day go today?” “It went well, I watched a movie this afternoon.” “What was the movie?” “Star Wars the force awakens. It fucking sucked.” A laugh bubbles out from Damian at what she said. “Oh yeah, what made the movie suck?” “Where do I even fucking begin! Kyle ren is more angsty than you are and hux can go shove a lightsaber up his ass till it goes through his mouth. And Rey has more mommy and daddy issues than the Winchester brothers.” A large laugh comes out from Damian at the true anger coming from her. “You really don’t like that movie don’t you?” “Not at all. The director of that movies got more issues than Batman does.” “I don’t even know if that’s possible.” “I heard that you know.” The sound of the deep voice making both of them turn their heads and see the cape. Before they can say anything Jason runs over and wraps his arms around her. “This is why I didn’t want you coming out tonight. I thought I lost you.” “You won’t loose me, I’m never leaving.” Her back now turned from Damian, he looks and sees a large patch of blood from her right shoulder blade. “You’re shoulder blade is bleeding” he puts his hand on the area and a large scream rips out of her.

But not a pained scream, a scream so loud he didn’t see her turn around and claw at his face. She jumps on top of him and wraps her hands around his throat as she keeps screaming at him. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” She’s ripped off of Damian by Jason as she falls into Jason’s arms and sobs. But before he can say anything she takes off down the alley as fast as she can. The sight of her disappears as Jason runs after her. What could have happened to her?

@comic-nerd-dc @psychovigilante

[darlinglissa]

no rest for the wicked

steph is just. so tired. and the batboys are so insufferable. just some shenanigans for 4,503 words.

summary: 

steph is a tired college student, just trying to make her way to her bachelor’s degree at least. doing this simultaneously with her nightly vigilantism is difficult and exhausting, but she makes it work dammit. she doesn’t even mind too much that her aforementioned nightly vigilantism comes with strange bat people that she isn’t fully convinced are people. but if one more tights-wearing, creepily-looming bat climbs through her window on her night off to actually complete an essay for once she’s going to make them write the six page essay for her, or so help her.

big big big thank you to @wisdom-walks-alone for being the best beta this girl could ask for!!!

read it on ao3!

Stephanie Brown is having what she likes to call a Shit Day. She’s just tired all around, and when it starts affecting her nightly hobby she starts to rethink her priorities for the first time in—she can’t remember when. Which then causes an existential crisis that she, at the ripe age of 21, should not be going through yet. Her crisis turns into an absolute nosedive of a tailspin when, of all the people in her life, Bruce “I’m Batman” Wayne notices that her help on the case is turning hindrance instead and tells her to take the next few nights off the case.

“It’ll still be there when you come back,” he says.

She may or may not stare at him for five minutes too long, and he may question his stance on asking her to work with them on the Falcone case of the week, but she goes home either way. Steph is not about to look this gift horse in the mouth, even if her entire view on life has shifted a solid eighty degrees to the right in less than two minutes. 

And boy, does she not regret her decision to go home. A full night’s sleep, an actual breakfast that isn’t from a drive-thru on her way to her eight am class that she’s always been perpetually late to, and she is on time to her class for the first time. In all honesty, Steph is living her best life in the first two hours of her day.

And it didn’t stop there: she’s on time to all three classes she has, she’s actually awake for the classes, and her notes are helpful instead of hopeless scribbles of random key words and names of people. She’s feeling like the student she always knew she could be, but was always too tired to be. 

When she gets home after her last class, she takes her time to shower and put on her comfiest pajamas, and make a dinner that isn’t frozen solid. The dinner is on the table, her books are opened and scattered around her, and Steph is feeling that ripe sense of productivity that has eluded her since she started offering the bats her help. With no risk of interruption—surely Bruce knew what a night off was when he offered her to take some—she eats lazily while working on some chemistry problems. 

She abandons the chemistry homework when she’s finished eating, and cleans her plate instead of throwing it in the dishwasher without a care. This productivity shtick ain’t so bad, it at least keeps her apartment cleaner—not clean, but cleaner.

Her planner is propped up against her bag, the day’s assignments actually written down neatly instead of rushed abbreviations that take an hour to decipher, and she gives it a look-over. Steph realizes that with this new downtime she’s been given she can actually get a head start on an essay due in a few days. “Head start” is used loosely, but starting it two days in advance is a new experience for her. She usually rushes the day of due to late nights on the streets and hopes it doesn’t actually look like it was rushed.

Blanket on, pillows fluffed behind her, and laptop fully charged, Steph settles into her couch to start this thematic essay that’s been gnawing at her mind since it was assigned. The introductory paragraph is slow to set up, but she can feel her brain gaining momentum as she puzzles out her argument. Her brow is furrowed and her fingers are flying across the keyboard, with the backspace having the most hits. She’s getting there, she is, her thesis is coming together so nicely and her ideas are flowing freely, she hasn’t felt adrenaline from something other than freefalls in...months? Years? Her fingers stutter and she rereads her thesis. This is such bull—

A knock on her window almost has her sprawled on the floor, and her hands catch her laptop at the last possible second. Her head snaps over to the window and there, in all his black and blue spandexed glory, was Dick Grayson, in his stupid skintight spandex suit and his stupid sheepish but pained grin, bleeding on her fire escape. Which she just cleaned her own blood off of. 

Irritated didn’t cover the slight boiling she could feel in her veins. She gives one last look at her document as she places her laptop on the coffee table, and another knock resounds through her living room.

“Okay! Okay. You win this round, Night-dork.” Steph goes over to her window and opens the hatch, letting the first Boy Wonder climb—more like fall—into her apartment. Her eyes follow his form as he all but crawls to her kitchen’s island, his domino being tossed onto the counter carelessly. She follows slowly, trying not to hate the man before he’s done anything other than exist, and maybe breathe, in her apartment. “Thanks for not bleeding on my carpet, too.”

Dick glances up at her before going back to his search for her first aid kit. “My pleasure, courtesy is my middle name.” His voice is strained, but his demeanor is purposely relaxed.

“Your middle name is John.” She watches him struggle, eyes darting from him at the cabinet above her fridge, where he’s reaching up even though it’s obviously hurting him, to the drawer beside her sink where her first aid kit is tucked away.

“It’s close enough,” he says with a tight shrug. He continues to search through her baking sheets and cooling racks.

Realizing he won’t be leaving that cabinet for a while, Steph sighs and pushes his body to the right drawer. He turns that sheepish-but-pained grin at her again, and she just pushes it away from her with a groan. Dick takes a heavy seat on one of her island’s stools, opening the kit with his non-bloody hand.

“It’s my day off. Do you know what that is?” she asks him, eyeing the needle and thread in his hands with mild interest as he misses the needle’s eye twice before taking it and threading it herself. Exasperation bubbles to the surface, and after Dick starts stitching his side she shuffles away to the couch. That grin seems permanently fixed on his face whenever she looks at him, so she stops looking at him and busies herself with folding the blanket that fell to the floor with her. “It’s this really cool thing where I stay home and not do what I would normally do. Like deal with your blood in my apartment.”

For a brief moment only Steph’s defeated sigh and Dick’s pained breaths are all that can be heard, and then Dick breaks it between stitches. “Yeah, sorry about this.” That grin is facing her and she looks at the blanket like it has a map that will lead her out of this conversation. Hell, out of this entire interaction. “You were the closest safe house, and I had a bit of a...situation.” He gestures to his side meaningfully with his head, as if Steph has no idea what situation he could possibly be referring to. “Hey, can you hand me the scissors?”

Dropping the blanket on the couch, Steph grabs the scissors from the other side of the island and hands them to him. He thanks her softly in that Earnest and Sincere Dick Grayson way, which makes it increasingly hard to be irritated with him, which in itself is irritating. He cuts the thread and ties it off a little sloppily, but effectively. 

“There, all done and no one’s dead.” Dick stands up, grunting only slightly as he does so, and sets everything back in the first aid kit. 

Steph notices that he puts it all in more neatly than it had been to begin with—she’s always in a hurry to get it back in the drawer and get to bed, don’t judge—and begrudgingly takes it when he hands it to her gently. She can feel Dick’s eyes on her as she puts it in its drawer, then she turns to face him, leaning against the drawer as it shuts. “Okay, you’re no longer in danger of dying, and I have an essay to write, so shoo.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands. 

Her weight is fully being supported by her counter and Dick is looking at her with his kicked puppy eyes that make her give in sooner than she would like to admit. Steph slumps down a little more, legs stretched out in front of her and feet flat against the floor. She meets his gaze head on, feeling all the productivity and triumph from the day drain out of her so fast she’s a little dizzy. “What.”

His pout deepens, and she can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I feel bad, Steph.” Dick leans into the stool’s back and flattens his hands on the island’s counter. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

And there’s the Dick Grayson Guilt Trip. 

Steph’s eyes trail over to her laptop one last time, the screen gone black from inactivity. She huffs a laugh, because this is her life, and it actually feels more real with a newly-stitched up dude in her kitchen than writing an essay early. For the second time in less than two days she finds herself having a mini crisis, but Dick’s puppy dog eyes snap her back. Steph rolls her eyes, dragging herself to her fridge. “You’re not intruding, Dick.” 

Dick’s grin goes from sheepish to genuine with a touch of triumph, and he leans his body forward against the counter. “Great! So how does a nice midnight snack sound?”

She looks away from the orange juice she’s pulling off the shelf to stare at Dick in distrust. “You aren’t going near my stove, Grayson. I don’t need a small fire to deal with on top of my bloody fire escape.” A glass is taken from the shelf beside the fridge, and as she pours the juice into it she lets herself grin at Dick’s spluttering. 

“I wouldn’t burn your kitchen down this time! I’ve gotten better,” he promises, pointing a red stained finger in her direction. Steph continues to stare at him with that deadpan expression she practiced from Alfred, though she knows hers isn’t half as successful as the stern butler’s. “I’ve been practicing!”

“Well, you can practice somewhere that isn’t my kitchen. I’ll make us pancakes if you stop looking at me like I took Jason’s gun to your favorite suit,” she says, bringing her glass to her lips. 

Dick nods, pointedly looking away from her and over at the laptop on the coffee table, and wisely stays silent for the moment.

Steph whips the batter up as quickly as she can, flour settling on her shirt and the counter despite her careful measuring and whisking. The stack of pancakes towers on her chipped plate, and when the batter runs out she splits them between the two of them. 

They eat in relative silence, until Steph breaks it when she finishes eating, feeling exhaustion seep into her bones. She eyes the clock on her microwave, the green numbers flashing 12:45; her 9:30 class crosses her mind like a neon sign saying go to bed, dumbass. Tense hands rub at her eyes before she pushes her chair back.

 “This has been a lovely, if not bloody, visit,” she says, picking up her plate and stealing Dick’s even though he still had a couple bites left.

“Hey!”

She ignores this maturely, cleaning the plates and feeling satisfaction in her petty revenge. “But it’s getting late and I’m tired. You know the exit.”

Without waiting to make sure he actually leaves, Steph drags herself to her bedroom and kicks the door shut with her foot. In the next moment she’s face down on her bed and passes out when her head hits the duvet.

Surely tomorrow will be better is the last thought that dashes through her sleep-muddled mind.

---

Tomorrow isn’t better. She sleeps through her alarm, and misses her first class. She curses Dick’s name her whole drive to campus while she chugs coffee. She doesn’t even like coffee.

The one class she’s able to make it to sucks the joy of life out of her, and when she tries to heat up the leftovers she brought with her for lunch the microwave went up in flames.

(Yeah, Bruce will be the one getting that bill.)

Steph trudges into her apartment and just as she closes the door she realizes that she still has that essay, and she really doesn’t want to have to do it all on the last day possible. She doesn’t even have a complete introduction paragraph.

So she makes a nice batch of waffles to help lick her wounds, and when she’s full and feeling slightly better she sets forth to spite-finish her essay.

Her essay is actually coming along, one body paragraph finished and her argument set in stone, and she’s feeling that satisfaction building in her gut. A smile is tugging at her lips, and the idea of finishing it early is seeming more plausible. 

But then her window is being slammed open and a small body is shoved through.

Stephanie most definitely does not scream, and she will forever deny it.

Timothy “Pain in Steph’s Ass” Drake climbs in after Damian—who’s becoming increasingly feral by the second—and the laptop is abandoned once again. Unlike last night, Steph has no hopes of getting back to the document and has resigned herself to her fate of finishing it all tomorrow.

Steph eyes the feral child practically vibrating with rage, then looks over at Tim, who appears to be as calm as can be when paired with a murderous child. After shutting the window behind him, Tim gives a little wave, pulling his domino off with the motion. “Hey, honey, I’m home?”

All that satisfaction left her in droves, and she stalks over to her laptop and shuts it with a snap. 

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Tim flinch just barely, and a smidge of satisfaction returns, but it’s quickly taken away when she notices Damian’s glare has settled on her. The sigh that leaves her body is heavy and tired, but she pushes forward and leans against the back of her couch to stare them down nonetheless.

“Tim, babe, what the hell do you want on my night off?” Steph crosses her arms over her chest, resting her chin in one of her palms. She glances over at Damian again but looks away from his piercing green eyes that promise pain. “And why does the bat-brat look ready to put me in a real grave?”

Tim turns to Damian with a grimace, and tries to start explaining, “You’re the only one technically available tonight, so—”

Damian cuts him off sharply. “So you need to help us with this lead so we can leave and attend more pressing matters. After all, crime doesn’t take nights off.”

Tim hides his face in his hands, muffling a groan. “I told you to let me do the talking.”

The smaller boy turns on his heel, his cape fluttering behind him, making him look just like Batman after a scolding for a night gone worse than it should have. “I agreed to nothing of the sort, Drake.” He walks like he’s commanding the room, rummaging through Steph’s fridge as if he has the right. Like he’s Bruce Wayne and could buy her out of house and home. 

(Well, he actually could, in all likelihood.)

Steph doesn’t like the comparison her mind is making, so she interrupts before it can go any further. “I don’t care who does the talking, just give me the info so you can leave faster.”

Tim’s hands run down his face and he looks at Steph pleadingly. “I know it’s your night off, but no one else would answer their comms and we really need an extra pair of eyes on this case. We’re driving ourselves crazy looking at the same clues over and over.”

Steph sighs, and takes in the bags under Tim’s eyes and Damian’s tensed shoulders. She lets out a groan, leaning against the couch back even heavier and getting a sense of deja vu with this feeling of defeat. “Okay.”

Damian scoffs from his place at her fridge before he moves on to browsing through her cabinets. “Of course you will, it’s your duty.”

Tim interrupts before Steph can retaliate with her, arguably, witty and biting remark. “Great, thank you, I love you, please look at the file.”

She begrudgingly takes the folder from her boyfriend’s hand, moving to plop on the couch. Papers are strewn about within seconds, and as Steph scans the information her mind is happy to have something more familiar to focus on. 

It’s quiet aside from pages shuffling and Damian finally finding suitable tea bags, filling her kettle with water. Tim settles down next to her, relaxing for what must be the first time tonight.

“Got stuck with Bruce Jr.? What’d you do to get that sentence?” she asks, eyes not leaving the pages.

Tim scoots in closer. “I was the only one who didn’t have an excuse not to work with him.”

Steph’s pen circles and connects a few sentences, and she hands the paper to Tim. She moves on to the next paper, scanning for pertinent facts, adding more circles and lines. “Dick wouldn’t take him tonight?”

He looks over her shoulder, taking papers as she passes them off and connects the dots she’s connecting. “He’s on medical leave. Stab wound, I think?”

Her pen stops mid-circle before she forces herself to finish the marking. “Yeah, that was a thing.”

“‘That was a thing’?” Tim asks as he leans back, staring at Steph in mild confusion. 

“Yeah, he used my needle and thread last night. Didn’t think it would actually be an issue for him,” she says as calmly as she can, very aware of the unhappy child pouring boiling water a few feet behind them. 

Sensing her forced nonchalance—and glancing back at Damian before looking back at her—he drops it. 

“It’s the bodyguard, he’s the link,” she declares, pushing the papers into the folder and the folder into Tim’s lap. “Good luck, he’s built like a linebacker.”

Damian sniffs derisively, sipping his tea like the snooty brat he was raised to be. “If I had had another half hour—”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” Tim says loudly, giving Damian a look. Damian just huffs and turns back to his tea. Tim gives Steph a kiss on her cheek before standing and putting his domino back on. “Damian, we should get going so we can get some intel before we have to head home.”

Steph jumps up and slides the window open, happy to let the two walking headaches exit her premises. “Yep, you should get going, little demon.”

Damian sneers at her, but finishes his tea and puts his mug in the sink. “Thank you for your hospitality, brat-girl.” He walks past her to the window ledge, sliding out to the fire escape. “The state of your fire escape is appalling.”

“Yeah, whatever bat-brat, go annoy that bodyguard for a while,” she replies, giving him a slight push as she walks by to go put his mug in the dishwasher and avoiding the right hook thrown back at her. She passes Tim and gives him a quick kiss while pointedly ignoring Damian’s age-appropriate hiss of disgust. 

“See you Friday?” Tim asks before he follows Damian out the window.

Steph looks back from the sink, and smiles. “Yep, as always.”

Tim disappears from her fire escape and Steph’s shoulders fall slightly. After the dishwasher is turned on because she’s a responsible adult and chores are her bitch, she falls into bed.

Tomorrow, she thinks, is another day, huh?

---

Steph wakes up to sunlight filtering through her curtains and 11:14 on her alarm clock. The light bugs her into getting up, but she feels rested enough as she stretches her joints. She takes a hot shower, and gets into comfy sweats and a sweater.

Thursdays will be her favorite day for the next two months. No classes make for a relaxed and mostly productive day, if not wonderful for her sanity.

So she takes her time making a nice breakfast of eggs and toast, and after unloading the dishwasher and putting her breakfast dishes into it, she’s feeling happy and productive. Her laptop is open and ready, and she settles in for the long haul to finish this goddamn essay.

She’s working at a steady pace, getting into the zone of writing about themes and connecting ideas and only semi-hating it. The time passes quickly, and she’s halfway to her six page minimum and mentally screaming because she’s gotten this far, she can finish it on time for the first time in years.

It’s when she’s just reached the middle of her fourth page that her window is smashed to pieces, glass littering her floor.

Steph is ready to cry.

But she’s been taught—well, she inferred from a few grunts—to use emotion as a driving force and grabs her slugger from under the couch and swings it at the figure, who is distracted by trying to avoid the shards of glass underfoot. Through his lapse of attention, he doesn’t dodge fast enough.

Jason now has a bruise blooming on his right shoulder blade, his face contorted in pain before twisting into a scowl aimed at Steph. Normally, it would have been effective, and it would have been if Steph wasn’t so angry and stressed. She drops her bat, and it rolls under her coffee table.

“It’s the middle of the fucking day, why the everloving fuck are you running around in your furry suit, you jackass?”

Jason’s scowl deepens, offense written over every inch of his face. He brushes glass off his shoulders, letting the pieces clatter against their kin on the floor. “I am not like the bat-freaks, Brown. I was trying to go undercover in a drug gang’s meeting, but I was found out. I lost them a few blocks back, so I had to move to a safe location before they caught my trail again. I caught sight of one of the guys just as I was climbing up so I was a bit rushed. You were closest, don’t be thinkin’ anything of it, you wouldn’t be my first choice if I had a choice.”

“Oh boy, you sure know how to make a girl feel special, Todd.” She stalks over to the closet in the hall, and when she’s back in front of him she hands him the broom and dustpan.

He takes it and just stares at it for a second before looking back up at her with an eyebrow raised. “You’re kidding me.”

Steph shakes her head. “Nope.”

Jason heaves a sigh, but starts sweeping the glass into a pile. As he cleans his mess, Steph looks over at the microwave clock. 4:06. She curses under her breath, rubbing her eyes for a moment to relieve the headache coming on.

“Did I interrupt something?”

She lowers her hands, crossing her arms, to see Jason looking up at her questioningly. She shrugs with one shoulder, glancing at her laptop. “Only an essay that the universe doesn’t want me to finish on time. No biggie.”

Jason hums lightly with a nod, brushing the glass into the dustpan, but doesn’t say anything more. An idea sparks in Steph’s muddled brain, and she eyes Jason’s hunched form with more interest.

“Hey, Jay, you like literature, right?” A content smile plays on Steph’s lips.

Jason glanced up, but stopped his motion as soon as he caught sight of the cat who ate the canary. “I...dabble.” He hesitates, as if he doesn’t want to finish his thought, but he does anyway. “Why?”

“Well, you see, my dear Jaybird—”

“—Don’t call me that—”

“—this essay is on Persuasion, which I didn’t actually read? Anyway—”

“—didn’t actually read, what the fuck is wrong with you—”

“—I’m writing about the theme of appearances, and my argument is actually kinda strong?”

Jason throws the glass into the trash can, then moves to sit on the couch and grabs her laptop. “All right. Open the doc.”

Steph grins, taking the laptop and doing as he asked. It worked. It was the longest of shots and it fucking worked. He reads what she has and gives honest—and really harsh?—critiques, picking her essay apart.

“Then fix it!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. She can only take so much criticism before it gets on her nerves. “How do I structure it, oh, master writer? If my quotes are so stupid, what quotes would be better?”

Off the top of his head, Jason lists three quotes. And she has to admit it: they fit her argument perfectly. She grumbles as she flips through the book to find the quotes.

As he rambles on about the theme and effective arguments, Steph absentmindedly reflects that this would have been a great punishment if he didn’t look like he was enjoying it so damn much. In fact, it makes her connect school to Jason, and how he was a really good student from what Alfred says.

His borderline monologue is cut off as Steph sits up and looks at him curiously. Jason realizes that she hasn’t been listening and gives her an unamused look. “Really?”

She ignores him. “Why didn’t you go on to college?”

Taken aback by the random question, Jason looks more like a deer in headlights than the terrorizer of Gotham’s crime syndicate. “Uh, because I’m legally dead?”

Steph rolls her eyes. “Please, your dad’s the wealthiest guy in Gotham, he can pull some strings in the right places.” She stops at the angry fire building in his eyes at the mention of Bruce and backtracks like the expert she is. “Or you could literally make a fake identity? You’re a crime lord, you aren’t above fake identities, are you?”

Jason looks lost in thought for a moment, before seamlessly returning to his essay argument-turned-rant as if he hadn’t even stopped. Steph notes the sore subject and actually pays attention this time around, fixing the essay with his help.

---

For the first time in weeks, Steph barges through Jason’s window with a crazed grin on her face.

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jason asks from his stove, water boiling beside him.

She doesn’t reply, just walks over to him with a bounce in her step, shoving a stack of papers in his face. The red A is clear as day, and Jason will forever deny the proud grin and high five that overtakes him in that moment.

[thebluenebula]

I don't have a whole pile to say but enjoy.

Masterlist

Day 4

Day 6

The New Bat Day 5

06:46. That's what my phone said when I looked at it. I groaned and sat up. After stretching, I got up and went about my morning routine, then headed down to the kitchen.

I flicked on the light and glanced round the room, empty. Must be too early for anyone to be up. No one would mind if I made a sandwich, I'm sure. After a minute of looking I found the ingredients for a sandwich. I sat down and munched on my sandwich. Not bad. Then again, how can you fuck up a sandwich.

After I was finished, I washed my dishes, plus some more that must have been from the night before. "My goodness!" The voice startled me. I turned around and saw Alfred standing in the door. "It's not too often anyone else around here washes their own dishes, never mind someone elses."

I giggled. "Good morning Alfred.

"Good morning Miss Ashleigh." Alfred said as he threw on an apron. "How did you sleep?"

"Okay, yeah. You?"

"Like a rock Miss Ashleigh. Any plans for the day?"

"No. None." I watched as Alfred took the dishes I had cleaned and began putting them away. "Sorry. I didn't know where everything went."

"That's quite alright."

"Do you have any coffee?" I asked. I was dying for some coffee.

"Yes. Over there's in the cupboard. I'll put on the kettle."

"Thanks." I opened the cupboard and spotted two jars of coffee. I grabbed the nearest one.

"I would recommend putting that back, unless you wish with losing a finger." Alfred stated. "That's Master Timothy's personal jar."

I put it down and grabbed the other jar. "Tim must really like coffee. That looks like a really expensive jar."

"Master Timothy lives on coffee. Sometimes I think it's what runs through his veins."

"Honestly wouldn't surprise me." Dick said as he entered the kitchen.

"Good morning Master Dick. Omelette?"

"No thanks Alfred." Dick walked over And grabbed some sugary looking cereal from the cupboard. "How are you settling in Ashleigh?"

"Good." I took a seat at the table. "Are you usually up this early?"

"I try to be." Dick sat down beside me with a bowl of cereal.

"You go out at night and wake up early in the morning?"

"Yep." Dick replied, taking a spoonful of his cereal.

"So you're both a night owl and an early bird?"

"Yup."

"So when do you sleep?"

"Mornin'." Jay interrupted, arms stretched, and yawning.

"Morning Master Jason. Omelette?"

Jay grunted and nodded before walking over and sitting down across from Dick and I.

"Morning." Dick looked curiously at Jay. "Speaking of early birds. You are not one Jay."

Jay grunted. "Nope."

"So why are you up?" Jay looked up at Dick then gave me a cheeky smirk. Dick looked between me and Jay. "What are you two up to?"

Jay smirked. "Don't worry about it Dick."

Dick looked at him. "I'm extremely concerned."

"Well you can be concerned after breakfast." Alfred said as he set down a plate of omelettes in front of Jay.

"You not eating Ash?" Dick asked.

"I already ate." I looked at Dick. "Ash?"

"Yeah." Dick took another spoonful of his colourful cereal. "Like a nickname. Ashleigh. Ash. I mean I can stop if you want me to."

"No. No. It's okay. It's kinda a cute name."

"Ash." Jay said to himself. "Sounds kinda deadly. Like a name for a pyromaniac."

"Cute and deadly." I smiled.

"That's should be Cass's tagline." Steph said as she walked in.

"Morning Miss Stephanie. Omelette?"

"Sure thing Alfred." Alfred handed Steph a plate as she walked by and sat down beside Jay. "So what is it we're talking about?"

"Ash." Jay said bluntly

"As in the stuff from fire?" Steph asked curiously.

"No, as short for Ashleigh." Dick corrected her.

"Sounds like a pyromaniac."

"Told you." Jay said triumphantly.

"I still think it's cute." I stated.

"And deadly." Jay added.

"Ashleigh doesn't look like she could hurt a fly." Steph commented.

"I could hurt a fly."

"She definitely could hurt a fly." Jay laughed.

Dick looked at him. "I feel like I'm missing something."

"Ditto." Steph looked at Jay.

Jay took out his phone. "What is this?" Dick asked.

"Just watch." Jay replied.

We watched as I lifted a rifle and fired it at the target. Kate standing beside me. I watched as Dicks eyes widen. The video ended.

Dick took a deep breath. "You gave her a gun." He said slowly. Jay nodded. "The one thing I specifically asked you not to."

"To be fair. You gave us a long ass lecture, and specifically told me not to do a lot of things. I cant be expected to remember them all." Dick silently stood up and gestured for Jay to follow him as he walked out of the room. "I think I just earned myself another lecture."

"Should I tell him that it was my idea or something?" I asked, trying to help Jay out of trouble.

"No." Jay said as he stood up. "I knew a lecture was coming." He stood up and walked towards the door. "See you three later."

We watched as he left. "So that's what you two got up?" Steph said.

"Yep."

Alfred took the half empty plates. "You don't seemed surprised Alfred." I commented.

"Once I seen you go off with Master Jason I knew there was probably guns involved."

"Very rarely that something happens that Alfred doesnt know about." Steph said.

"That includes what you and Cass got up to in the garden last week." Alfred stated.

Steph's face reddened. "Anyway..." She quickly changed the topic. "You up to anything after dinner?"

"No, and I don't think Jays gonna steal me today."

Steph giggled. "Do you bake?"

"Bake? Not often."

"How about this evening? Cass and I were going to do some baking this evening. Maybe you wanna join us?"

"I thought all the kids were banned from cooking?"

"Miss Stephanie and Cassandra are allowed to bake once a week." Alfred explained.

"Are you claiming I'm not a competent cook, Alfred?" Steph questioned.

"That is precisely what I'm claiming."

"Yeah. That's fair." Steph admitted.

"So who is a competent cook?" I asked.

"Myself, of course." Alfred said. "Master Jason, and Miss Kate."

"There's like..." I started trying to count all the people I'd seen around the house, and gave up. "Fifteen people in this house, and only four can cook?"

"No. They can all cook." Alfred corrected me. "Only three can cook without setting the kitchen on fire."

"It was one time Alfred." Steph said. Alfred stared at her. "Okay, twice." Alfred continued staring. "Fine. A handful of times." Alfed smiled and walked over to the sink. Steph turned back to me. "So what do you say?"

"I'd love to." I said. "If that's okay with you, and Cass?"

"Of course." She replied and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Cass and I are excited to get to know you."

I smiled at her. "Me too."

"Speaking of Cass, I wonder where she is? She's usually up about now." Steph looked to the door. "I'm going to go check on her. You want to come?"

"No. That's okay."

Steph nodded and said goodbye as she headed up stairs. I said goodbye to Alfred and headed to my room. I passed Harper on the way. She groggily said hello and headed into the bathroom. I smiled and headed into my room.

A couple hours passed as I sat around in my room scrolling through my phone. I glanced at my messages. I had a dozen missed texts from my friend back in Ireland. I honestly agent even thought to text her since I'd arrived.

"Hey." I texted her.

A few minutes later she responded. "Hey. How have you been? How's the move gone?"

"Its been good. It's different."

"How are the Waynes treating you?"

"Like family."

"That's greats. I'll have to come visit one day."

"One day. I'm still settling in."

"Call later???"

"Maybe. I think I'm baking later, but I'll see afterwards."

"You? Baking? That can only end in disaster."

"Haha. Let's hope not."

A knock on my door startled me back to real life. "Come in."

"Hey." Bruce said as he entered, holding a tray of food. "Dinner. Courtesy of Alfred."

"Thank you." I took the tray from him.

"Mind if I sit for a while?" Bruce asked.

"Not at all."

Bruce sat. I quickly checked the message I was sent. "Tell me how the baking goes."

"Will do. I gtg rn. Ttyl."

"Friend of yours?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah. From Ireland."

"If you ever want to bring someone over or go... back over," Bruce said. "I can arrange it."

"Thank you, but I'd like to settle in more first."

"Right." Bruce nodded. "Sorry I haven't been around as much as you had probably expected."

"It's alright." I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed, but I know Bruce did his best to set aside as much time for me as he could.

"You still want to go shopping tommorow?" Bruce asked.

"Yes. I'd love to."

Bruce attempted to hand me some money. "Kate mentioned you were afraid to ask."

I pushed the cash back to him. "Yeah but it's alright. Kate gave me some yesterday."

Bruce chuckled. "Of course she did. Take it anyway." He forced the money into my hand.

"Thank you."

"Never be afraid to ask me anything Ashleigh." Bruce smiled at me. "For money, if you need do be brought somewhere, anything."

"Thank you." I smiled. "I'm starting to sound like a broken record." Bruce laughed.

"Hey Ashleigh, you ready-" Steph stopped as she spotted Bruce. "Oh hi Bruce."

"Hey Steph."

"I was just looking for Ashleigh."

Bruce stood up. "I'll leave you two up to- whatever it is you two intend to get up to."

"Bye Bruce."

"See yah B."

Bruce stopped. "What time do you want to go tommorow Ashleigh?"

"I don't mind."

"How does eleven sound?"

"Yeah that's fine."

"Great. Talk to you two later." Bruce left Steph and I alone.

"I came to tell you that Cass and I were about to start baking."

I hopped up. "Oh cool."

We headed out of my room and down the stairs. "So you and Bruce going shopping tommorow?"

"Yeah."

"What are you going to buy?"

"Furniture and clothes."

"Got space for two more?"

"You and Cass?"

"Yes."

"You'll have to ask Bruce."

"Bruce never says no to Cass." Steph stated. "She's like his kryptonite."

I giggled as we walked into the kitchen. Cass stood by the kitchen island with a chef hat and apron on. "Hello."

"Hey." Steph grabbed a apron and hat and handed them to me.

I threw on the apron and looked at the hat. "Is the hat necessary?"

"No." Cass said.

"I think they're hilarious though." Steph added.

"Fair enough." I put on the hat. "So what are we making?"

"Strawberry shortcake." Cass said longingly.

"Cass loves strawberry shortcake." Steph explained, while grabbing a mixing bowl.

"So how do we make strawberry shortcake?" I asked.

Steph held up a sheet. "Got it all written down."

We began baking and chatting. I learned a lot about Steph, not so much about Cass. Almost two hours later and we placed the cake into the oven. "That was very enjoyable." I said.

"Yeah." Steph said. Cass nodded in agreement. "Now we wait."

"How long?" I asked.

Steph looked at the instructions. "Uhh... a while, I guess. I forgot to write that down. We can just guess."

"Like an hour?" Cass suggested. Steph and I nodded in agreement.

"I'm amazed we didn't make too much of a mess." Steph looked around.

A bit of dough here and there, some flour on the floor, but nothing more then should be expected. "Alfred made it sound so much worse." I said.

"Oh me and Cass aren't too bad but if you get a couple of us together, it can be..."

"Messy." Cass finished her sentence.

"How so?" I asked.

She looked off into the distance dramatically reminiscing. "You ever try to get honey out of your hair?"

"No."

"Don't." She warned me

"I didn't intend to."

We both turned to look at Cass, who was giggling. "You smelt like honey for a week."

I began giggling, half at the thought of Steph smelling like honey, and half at the fact Cass was giggling. It was a contagious laugh.

"It wasn't funny." Steph insisted. Cass and I's laughter stopped as Steph slapped a handful of flour into our hair and stepped back. "You know white suits you two."

I blinked as flour dropped down by my face. "Oh." I began laughing again.

Cass leaned into me and whispered. "There's honey in fridge."

"That seems mean." I whispered back.

"I get flour hair, she gets honey hair."

"What are you two whispering about?" Steph asked as she watched Cass walk over to the fridge. "Cass?" Cass took a jar of honey. "Cass, no!"

Steph immediately ducked behind me as Cass came forward. "Don't get me involved."

"I'm using you as a human shield. Cass won't hit you." Steph insisted.

"Sorry Ashleigh." Cass said as she took a handful of honey. " Going to be messy."

Five minutes, and a jar honey later, and all three of us and the kitchen was covered in honey. "So now I understand what Alfred was talking about." I said as I took a glob of honey out of my hair.

"Sorry." Cass apologised. "Had to get Steph."

"That's fair."

"I hate you two." Steph moaned.

"No you don't." Cass said.

"No I don't." Steph admitted.

"You love us."

"I do, but I hate that I love you."

"What in the name of Barry Bee Benson happened in here?" Tim asked as he and Dick walked in.

"Cass started it." Steph said.

"Steph started it." Cass said at the same time.

Dick looked us and sighed. "Go take a shower, you three."

"At least it's not as bad as last time Steph and honey was involved." Tim said.

"That was your fault and you know it Tim." Steph angrily said as we walked by them.

"We'll clean it, after showers." Cass said as she followed.

"Don't worry about it." Dick said. "I'll clean it."

"Sorry." I said.

"Don't worry about it. It happens regurly here." Dick insisted.

"Also I- Im umm, sorry about... you know. The guns and stuff with Jay." I said.

Dick sighed. "No need to be. You get to choose what you do. Jay might be reckless with his own life but he'd never needless endanger yours."

"Thanks." I smiled at him.

"I'd give you a hug but... you know,

honey."

"Yeeeah."

"Now go have a shower." Dick said. "You know you're going to smell like honey for a week."

"So I've heard." I said as I walked out.

I walked up the stairs to the bathroom and jumped into the shower. After about two hours of washing honey out of my hair, I headed back to my room, and sat on the edge of bed and sighed.

"Something up?" Bruce asked from the door.

I hadn't heard him enter, perks of being Batman I guess. "No. Just thinking."

"About?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Are you okay, Ashleigh?"

"I'm fine," I smiled. "Just need some sleep."

"You sure you want to go shopping tommorow?."

"Yeah. Absolutely."

"Okay. I heard you and the girls were baking?."

"Yeah, strawberry shortcake."

"How'd it turn out?"

"I'm not sure. It was in the oven when we left it."

"Why'd you leave it?"

"We had to-" I stopped myself. Am I allowed to tell him? "Wash... uhh honey off... Yeah. "

Bruce sighed. "That's why Tim wouldn't let me in."

"I think Dick was going to clean it, while we washed."

"I won't ask the why."

"Probably best."

"You coming down to taste the cake?"

"No. I think... I'm going to go to sleep."

"Thats alright. We'll save some for you."

"Thanks. Good night."

"Night."

Bruce shut the door and I lay into bed. I'm glad Jay didn't get into too much trouble with Dick. I felt kinda guilty for that. At least the baking was good. Steph is so nice and even though she doesn't say much Cass is sweet. A faint smell of honey filled my nose as I drifted off to sleep.

[flyingkiki]

Curiosity 4/?

It happened so quickly, Raven wasn’t sure where the fire started or where it ended. It was just everywhere. It was scalding hot – consuming her whole. She felt it crawl painfully into her body – burning her bones and just searing her spirit. She felt it burn its way into her soul.

She felt her body being painfully pressed deeper into hot marble, the pentagram underneath her burning into her back. She could smell the familiar stench of burning flesh – her flesh. It burned through her uniform and branded her. She knew the brand inside the pentagram – the rune painfully familiar. It pulsed and the heat consumed her body whole.

The runes of Scath burned painfully into her back.

Panic bubbled over and she tried to scream. Scath. No!

The heat of the flames burned her throat and her whole world seemed to press down on her. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t scream. It felt like something was hold her throat tightly, claws digging into her neck. Pain ripped through her body as the heat burned through her and constricted her throat. She could barely see through the inferno.

She could hear chanting over the roar of flames and she struggled to find where it was coming from. She felt fear rip through her body, as the heat intensified. She needed to get out of here – where was here? She felt her body being pressed into the hot marble further and she wanted to scream.

“Arella,”

“NO!” Raven woke up with a loud gasp, jerking awake painfully and she struggled to kick away her blanket in her haze of confusion. She sat up, gasping loudly and she quickly surveyed the room with wide, panicked eyes. Pale fingers curled into her bedsheets Raven tried to regain her footing as she realized she was at Wayne Manor.

Okay. Good.

Beads of sweat rolled down the side of her face, and Raven let out a long shaky breath. She was at Wanye Manor, she reminded herself again. Her heart still beat frantically in her chest and she desperately tried to calm herself.

She stumbled out of her ridiculously comfortable bed and her unsteady stance was a welcome grounding from her dream. Raven breathed heavily and in a burst of panic, she slid her hands up and down her back. No marks. No Scath.

“Damn it,” Raven breathed loudly, closing her eyes and letting her hands drop to her sides. This was the first dream in the longest time since her 18th birthday so many years ago when they fought her father. Everything felt eerily familiar. Damn this stupid cult.

She needed to clear her head. Sleep wasn’t an option right now. Glancing at the clock – 3:11 a.m., Raven sighed and headed towards her door. She needed to do something – or else she’d combust. Quietly, she opened the door and silently padded through the dark hallway. Her bare feet sank into the plush carpet she felt comforting. She was here, walking through Wayne Manor at 3 in the morning, and she was not on some ceremonial table being sacrificed to her father.

Raven realized she had entered the Wayne Library when her feet touched the cold wooden floor. The room was chilly, significantly colder in the sporadic Spring evening/dawn weather. Raven learned it was raining outside when she heard the rain through the large floor to ceiling windows of the library. A cold draft slipped up her bare legs and Raven shivered slightly. Of course the weather had to match her nightmare. Taking a night flight was out of the options.

The Wayne Library was pitch dark, save for whatever moonlight and lightning that filtered through the window. The library was Raven’s favorite place, offering books all of the genres, languages, age periods, and rare books Raven wanted. She faintly wondered if Bruce would mind her visiting on occasion just so she could use the library (and get away from Gar) once her mission was over. She silently padded through the library, feeling small against the huge bookshelves that loomed over her.

Her heart was still beating frantically as she reached one of the reading corners she and Tim had occupied that evening. Books on demonology were scattered on the reading table. She sighed softly and decided that she might as well spend her time here for a bit, just to settle her emotions. As she passed the table, she spotted a grey Gotham University hoodie hanging precariously from one of the chairs. Probably Tim’s.

She absently picked up the hoodie and slipped it over her head. It was still cold at the library and she regretted leaving her room in just a pair of shorts and a flimsy tank top. The hoodie was insanely comfortable as it settled over her body, dropping down to her thighs and over her hands. She was enveloped in the familiar scent of sandalwood and cinnamon. She breathed in deeply, feeling her insides warm and she calmed down significantly.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she sat down on one of the couches. She sighed softly, sinking into the comfortable leather and tucked her legs underneath her. Dropping her head against the armrest, she blankly stared at the table in front of her.

What did those dreams mean? Her fingers on her right hand absently fiddled with a loose strand on Tim’s sweater. She swallowed, as the flames jumped back into her memory.

She heard her mother’s name being called over the flames.  A chilling thought slipped through her body, and she felt her stomach roll. That was how her mother was given to Trigon – how the cult sacrificed her to her father. She hugged herself tighter and thought of her mother and what a horrible, painful experience that was.

A soft sob escaped her lips and she buried herself into the soft cushions of the couch. Her mother should have never gone through that horrible ordeal. Never.

The cult will pay.

*

“Raven?”

Raven inhaled sharply and her eyes flew open quickly, her senses on high alert and her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Her right hand glowed in self-defense, ready to attack. She scrambled into a sitting position, her neck hurting from having fallen asleep on the couch. Dawn broke through the windows, illuminating the library. She quickly realized she had fallen asleep at some point after absently trying to read a magazine (Home Gardening) to settle her mind.

“Why are you sleeping in the library?”

Raven looked up at Bruce, as he stood a safe distance away from her by the reading table. He knew better than to try to wake her through contact. She sighed softly, hear head throbbing slightly from the lack of sleep. She must have slept for an hour. She ran her hand over her face, trying to push away any last remnants of sleep – no point of trying to catch some sleep now.

“Sorry,” she whispered, sitting up on the couch and dropping her bare feet on the floor. She looked up at Bruce as he returned her gaze with a calculating look. “Couldn’t sleep last night,”

“You didn’t look very comfortable when I came in and saw you,” Bruce noted.

Raven titled her head as she looked up at the older Wayne. “Nightmare,”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. “Nightmare?”

Raven contemplated how much she should tell the man or if it was even important to do so. “My dreams about my father aren’t really pleasant,” she mused, a wry smile playing on her lips.

“Should we be worried about your nightmare?”

Raven shook her head. Her toes absently curled under her as she silently thought about it. Was it a warning? “No, not really,” she said.

They stared at each other for a moment before Bruce nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Just let us know if anything changes,”

“I will,”

Bruce was about to leave, when he stopped himself and turned back to the curious Raven. “We, I, appreciate your help,” he said carefully. Bruce titled his head a tiny bit in her direction. “I know this whole situation can be unsettling. I appreciate you coming here and helping us address the current situation with the cult.”

Raven offered him a wry smile. “Like I said, always a pleasure to fight family,”

Bruce gave her a small smile. “The Titans are very lucky to have you on the team,”

It was odd to have a light moment with Bruce or Batman. For the most part of the week, they only talked about work. Raven did notice how much of a father Bruce could be (despite the obvious fact that he had all his children running around in leotards and fighting crime at a very young age – not very stellar parenting skills right there), but she did notice that Bruce cared – in his own little ways. He seemed just a tiny bit different from the Batman that she met when she was a child, begging for help from the Justice League. Serious AF still, but kinder a few notches.

“Thanks,” Raven nodded, feeling just a little calmer now.

“Alfred will have breakfast ready soon, you should join us whenever you are ready,” Bruce said as he was about to leave her.

Raven mumbled her thanks and watched the man leave. “Bruce?”

He paused by the doors of the library and he turned to her, eyeing her quizzically. “Hmm?”

Raven’s lips quirked just a tiny bit. “Thank you,” They stared at each other for a brief second before her lips lifted into an amused smile. “Also, nice pajamas,”

Bruce let out a low chuckle and it seemed like he rolled his eyes in exasperation. He looked down at the comfortable black shirt (which probably cost more than her monthly paycheck) and grey sweatpants with tiny little Superman logos dotted all over. “These are a gift from Jason,”

Raven titled her head, clearly amused. “Of course they are,”

“See you at breakfast, Raven,”

She nodded and watched the man leave. She felt slightly relieved that he didn’t bother to probe her further about her nightmare. As she stood up, she decided that it was just that – a nightmare. Nothing more for them to read into.

Raven slowly left the library and set out to follow Bruce for breakfast. It was a Sunday which explained why Bruce was walking around in Superman pajama pants and not his normal business suit in the morning. It still felt slightly surreal to Raven to see Batman so, well, human.

“Good morning, Miss Raven,” Alfred greeted her as she stepped into the dining room.

“Good morning, Alfred,” Raven offered a small smile at Alfred before silently shuffling towards her seat at the table. She nodded at Bruce as she approached the table and absently took in the beautiful spread of fruits and breakfast treats on the table. She silently wished they had an Alfred back at the Tower (though, she did love Victor and his pancakes and waffles mornings).

Tim walked into the room, stifling a small yawn. “Morning,” he mumbled, still sleepy from a long night of patrolling and chasing demons. He felt more aware, and significantly more awake, when he watched Raven pull her chair out. She looked incredibly small today, in the oversized hoodie that spilled over her hands as she held onto the chair in front of her. Tim knew that it was horrible bad manners to stare but for the past week of being with Raven, it was a common occurrence of his now – he couldn’t help it.

“Good morning,” Raven turned to him, bed hair still evident. He could see the print Gotham University on the front of the hoodie and felt his insides warm unexpectedly. That was his hoodie.

“Good morning, Raven,” Tim made his way to the table, still watching her and taking in how the hoodie looked on her. He briefly caught sight of her bare legs and feet, and he was glad the table obscured most of the view now. Damn did she look cute in his hoodie. Tim tried to settle his emotions because this was definitely not how he should be thinking about his brother’s teammate. Especially while she was here for work on a mission trying to stop a cult dedicated to her father – looking adorable in his wretched too-big-hoodie looking like it was the only thing she was wearing right now and they, they… – oh, god, his clothes looked so good on her. Gah. TIM JUST STOP. He should really stop hanging out with Jason.

Dick was going to kill him. Or Raven – whoever came first once they learned how he thought about the deadly female Titan. Remember, deadly. Just notes – update her files, that’s it.

He downed half of his coffee in one go, hoping he’d preoccupy his mind with scalding coffee and potentially just drown himself with it. Both seemed to work.

Raven looked at Tim curiously feeling his soft push of emotions against her own. She noticed his curiosity and intrigue – laced with attraction again. She caught his eye briefly and she quirked her lips just a little bit. These Robins were curious little birds and she felt warm inside.

“Pardon me for saying, Miss Raven,” Alfred caught everyone’s attention at the table as he appeared next to Raven with a pair of fluffy white house slippers and gently dropped them next to her chair. “The next time you decide to fall asleep in the library, you can get some spare blankets in the storage room down the hall. The library can get really chilly at night,”

Raven colored and she shuffled her feet to slip into the offered house slippers. “I’m sorry, Alfred, for the trouble,”

The old man smiled kindly. “No trouble at all,”

Tim eyed her curiously. “You slept in the library?” His eyebrows furrowed. “But we decided to end research last night when said you were tired,”

“When you fell asleep at the table,” Raven corrected. She rolled her eyes, amused and took a sip of her tea. “It’s nothing. Just had a bad dream, woke up, and ended up in the library,”

“Bad dream?”

Raven shrugged her shoulder dismissively. “Nothing to be worried about,” she assured.

“Did anything come up from your readings last night?” asked Bruce.

“Nothing that we don’t already know about,” she titled her head a little bit. “But,” she motioned for Tim to hand over this BatTablet. He handed it to her a little confused. Raven fiddled with it a bit, tapping the screen a few times. “This morning, I got in touch with Constantine,”

“At 4 in the morning?” Bruce looked impressed.

Raven shrugged. “Constantine owes me. Anyway, the pentagram at the ritual sites all have the marks of Scath,” she showed them the picture of one of the pentagrams they took a photo of and zoomed into the crooked ‘S’ in the middle. “When Tim and I read through some demonology texts, a common practice is getting branded or promising yourself off to the cult. We were so caught up with the idea of them being just a ragtag team of cult followers that I missed the possibility of them actually having a sense of order,” she explained.

It made sense to earlier this morning as she reflected about it at the library. Maybe that was why she dreamed about the ritual sacrifice, and all those old memories of her father resurfaced, because there was an actual sense of order in place. Maybe they were not just a fanatic little church after all – they actually knew how to summon demons, so it only made sense that they should have some set up that could lead them to the church.

“When the Church of Trigon first organized, members would get branded with runes and the symbol of Scath, my father. It would show your commitment to the church. My mother had one branded on her,” she paused and placed the tablet on the table. She looked at the two men across of her, and faintly wondered if she should continue. “I have the same markings, unfortunately,”

She pulled down the collar of Tim’s hoodie and showed them an old burn site right below her left collar bone. The scar burn was raised against her pale skin and one could barely see black lines peeking out of the puckered flesh. “I tried to burn it off I when first got them during my 18th birthday,” she sent them a wry smile. “I quickly realized that didn’t mean I was off the hook from being my father’s portal,”

“You’re saying that these cultists have the same markings?” Bruce looked doubtful. “We already tried making scans at the Watchtower, nothing came up,”

Raven adjusted the collar around her neck. “Maybe there are variations,” she shrugged. She picked up the BatTablet again and pressed the screen. “Or we need to look more closely on the ground. Sometimes, because they are so disorganized in organizing themselves, they don’t get picked up on the radar. And that’s how most little cults and magic users operate – we don’t organize in large groups,” she shrugged. “Salem Witch Hunt, never again.”

“Constantine said that there is an underground club for metas and magic users in the outskirts of Gotham,” she showed them the picture of an old, abandoned warehouse. “It is charmed, so humans cannot spot it. It’s off the grid, I haven’t heard of this one in Gotham, but places like these are pretty common among magic users. We have one in Jump. These places rarely allow humans to enter the clubs,” she looked at Bruce and Tim. “Constantine told me that he had a contact I could get in touch with who might know someone from the cult, or if we’re lucky, someone from the cult could be at the club. Constantine will send me details later this afternoon. I can go tonight and check out the club,”

Bruce frowned and stared at Raven thoughtfully. “Just for intel gathering, nothing else,”

Raven nodded. “Intel only,” she paused. “I’d rather not cause any trouble in club filled magic users and other beings,”

“Take Tim with you,”

“I’m going with you,”

Raven frowned at them, growing slightly frustrated and she closed the tablet. “Didn’t you guys catch the part where it’s an metas-only club?”

“I don’t want you to go in alone. We do this together. Find a way for you to bring Tim into the club. We’ll have a briefing later this evening before you leave. End of discussion,” and with an air of finality, Bruce seemed to successfully end the discussion.

“Understood,” Raven nodded. She knew better than to argue with Batman.

Satisfied, Bruce nodded. “I’ll see you both later tonight,” he said to them before leaving the breakfast table.

“Raven?”

She felt Tim’s worry and curiosity press against her. She looked at him, blue eyes shining in emotions she could not quite place. “Let’s talk about what’s going to happen tonight later,”

Tim frowned. “Is this a good idea?”

Raven sent him sly smile. “Let’s just figure out how to smuggle you in as my human pet or something,”

Tim felt his ears ring and his stomach roll. That did not sound like a good idea – or did it?

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Stiles Stilinski is trying to juggle homework, high school, stupid dumb crushes on unattainable people, and werewolves. Keeping the supernatural secret from his dad is hard enough, but when it comes to Stella, his eight-year-old sister, it turns out it’s impossible. 

You can find the Tumblr Chapter Index here, or read here on AO3. 

CHAPTER 1

“Dad!” Stella yells as she comes thumping down the stairs. “Stiles let a werewolf in the house!”

Stiles freezes for a second, his pop tarts burning his fingers as he grabs them from the toaster. Then his brain reminds him that this hurts, and he swears under his breath as he juggles them onto a plate, spinning around to see what their dad’s reaction is going to be.

“Did he?” Dad asks mildly as Stella storms into the kitchen. He doesn’t even look up from whatever message he’s reading on his phone. “No werewolves in the house, son.”

“Right,” Stiles says, and smirks at Stella. “No werewolves in the house.”

“It’s true!” Stella bellows. “Dad! It’s true!”

Stella’s eight. She has a vivid imagination, and she can stick to a lie for weeks. Dad probably thinks this is just like the time that she claimed she ate twelve donuts in one sitting, or that Mrs. Sanders from across the road is really a bank robber, or that she punched a zombie so hard that its head fell off.

Stella Stilinski is a lying liar who lies.

Stiles makes a face at her, his heart thumping wildly, and escapes with his pop tarts to the living room.

“You’re not eating pop tarts for dinner, are you?” Dad calls after him.

“Of course not!” Stiles yells back.

Stiles Stilinski is also a lying liar who lies.

It runs in the family.

***

Dad has been on night shift this week, so Stiles has to get Stella to bed. They used to have a sitter, Mrs. Levinson, but she moved to Florida a few weeks ago, and even before that her knees weren’t great, so Stiles usually ended up taking Stella upstairs and putting her to bed anyway to save her the trip. When Mrs. Levinson retired, Dad made noise about hiring someone else, but Stiles is sixteen now, and it’s not like he’s incapable of looking after his sister at night, right? Also, this way Dad could up his allowance.

Except werewolves. Werewolves are a thing that happened. And werewolves and all their related supernatural fuckery do not respect the fact that Stiles can’t just go gallivanting around town at night anymore. Not that he should have been doing any nocturnal gallivanting in the first place, but, well. Stiles and impulse control have never been in a working relationship. When Mrs. Levinson was snoozing in front of the TV downstairs it was easy for Stiles to climb out his window and escape—hence the night he dragged Scott into the woods and Scott got bitten in the first place—but now? He can’t leave an eight-year-old kid alone in the house, and if he tells Dad that maybe they should look at getting another sitter after all, Dad’s going to want to know why. And Stiles doesn’t have an answer for that. At all.

So he stays in, and he locks the doors, and werewolves still happen.

Persistently.

Werewolves do not respect locked doors.

At least, Derek Hale doesn’t. He just uses a window instead.

Which is how he turned up last night, bleeding from somewhere underneath his ridiculously tight shirt, making vague threats about Scott having to stay away from the Argents—ha! As if Stiles or any power in the universe can stop him!—and generally growling and flashing his eyes and his fangs. And then, in the middle of bleeding all over Stiles’s floor, he’d suddenly stopped, winced as he’d straightened up, and said: “Who’s that?”

And Stiles had turned around to find Stella standing in his bedroom doorway in her My Little Pony pajamas, a teddy bear shoved under her arm, and a very suspicious look on her very suspicious little face.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles had said.

“I’m Stella,” Stella had announced. “Are you a werewolf?”

Derek had looked at Stiles.

Stiles had looked at Derek.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles had said again.

“You said a bad word,” Stella had informed him. “Twice!”

So werewolves are a thing, which Stiles has known for weeks, but now Stella also knows. Sometimes Stiles thinks his life can’t get any messier, and sometimes the universe laughs in his face and tells him to hold its beer and watch this.  

Stiles finishes his pop tarts while sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. He can still hear Stella thumping around upstairs, probably still pissed because Dad didn’t believe her. For an eight-year-old, she can hold a grudge.

That’s probably genetic too.

Stiles grabs the remote control and channel surfs for a while. He looks up when Dad appears.

“I’m off,” Dad says. “Try to get to bed before midnight, huh?”

“Oh, totally,” Stiles lies. “Have a good shift, Dad.”

Dad shows him a tired smile. “Stella? I’m going to work!”

Stella comes thumping down the stairs again, flings herself into Dad’s arms for a hug, and then, when Dad leaves, sits down on the couch beside Stiles and glares at him.

“Go and have a shower,” he tells her. “It’s almost your bedtime.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she grumbles, and then sighs, and her little body slumps into the couch cushions. “Will you come and read me a story?”

She’s still holding that grudge, Stiles knows, but story time is sacrosanct.

“Of course,” he tells her, like he’s dying to find out what happens in the next chapter of Matilda and isn’t just humouring her.

Although, who is he kidding? He actually is dying to find out what happens next. Matilda is awesome.

Stella grins at him, and goes upstairs to shower.

***

There’s a framed photograph in Stella’s bedroom. Dad took the picture. It’s Mom, with Stiles sitting on one side of her, and baby Stella—weird and new and squishy-faced—in her arms. It used to sit on the desk in Dad’s office, but he put it in Stella’s room after Mom died. On the frame, in beautiful cursive lettering it says, ‘Claudia, Agnieszka & Mieczysław’. By the time he was eight, Stiles was already calling himself Stiles. By the time Stella arrived, he was already calling her Stella, because Mom and Dad told him as soon as they found out that he was getting a little sister, and he wanted her to have a name that sounded like his.

Their nicknames both kind of stuck.

His Mom used to call him Mischief.

He wonders what she would have called Stella, but by the time Stella was already a few months old, some days Mom didn’t even remember she had a new baby.

She went downhill very fast, from diagnosis to death within the year.

Sometimes Stiles worries that there’s a time bomb inside his skull, and inside Stella’s. He sometimes worries that when he forgets something simple, or stumbles over a word, that it’s happening, that it’s already too late.

He looks away from the photograph, his throat aching, as Stella bounces into the room. She’s wearing Stiles’s old stud muffin t-shirt, which she’s stolen and claimed as pajamas even though it still fits Stiles, thanks very much, and a towel bundled around her wet hair.

Stiles sighs and picks up the comb from her dresser. If it were up to Stella she’d go to sleep with it like that, and wake up in the morning with a cross between a rat’s nest and a beehive. Stiles has learned this from bitter experience.

He sits down on Stella’s bed, shifting back so she can plant herself in front of him, and starts the work of getting the tangles out.

“Stiles?” she asks after a while. “Are werewolves a secret?”

Stiles’s stomach clenches. “Yeah. A big secret.”

“Dad says secrets are bad,” Stella reminds him. “That if grownups ask you to keep secrets, it’s not right, and you’re supposed to tell Dad or Mrs. McCall or a teacher.”

Stiles exhales. Yeah, Dad is the sheriff. He knows all about the secrets some adults ask kids to keep. Secrets are bad. Surprises—like Stiles’s thirteenth birthday party—are okay. Stella hadn’t known that at the time, and tearfully spilled the beans at breakfast the week beforehand. In the Stilinski household there is now a firm line drawn between secrets and surprises.

“That’s true,” he says.

“You’re almost a grownup,” she says, twisting around to face him. “And you want me to keep a secret.”

Sometimes Stiles wonders if she even knows how much she can punch him in the gut with just a look.

“Most grownups don’t know about werewolves,” Stiles says, working the comb carefully through her hair. “It would be very dangerous for werewolves if they found out. People might try to hurt them.”

People already have. The Hales are a testament to that.

Stella makes a small noise. “Is that why that boy was bleeding?”

“Yeah.” Stiles thinks of Derek’s bloodstained shirt, pulled tight across his abdomen, the tears in the fabric revealing an expanse of already-healed skin. A part of him also registers some amusement at hearing anyone refer to Derek Hale as a boy, instead of the chiselled-from-marble specimen of manhood that he is. But the less said about that, and the uncomfortable levels of arousal he feels whenever Derek is in his vicinity, the better. “There are people who hurt werewolves. Hunters. So that’s why we keep them a secret.”

“Oh.” Stella is silent for a moment. “Like how if you know who a superhero is, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Right.”

“Superheroes aren’t supposed to be real either,” she points out. “Is Batman real?”

“I’m pretty sure Batman’s not real.”

“That makes sense,” Stella decides. “If he was real and trying to be a secret, anyone who reads the comics would know he’s Bruce Wayne.”

“That is a good point.”

Stella tilts her head. “I won’t tell anyone about werewolves then.”

“Good. That’s good. It’s really important that nobody finds out.” Stiles pauses for a moment, and hooks an arm around her for a quick hug. Then he finishes combing through her hair, and plaits it into a loose braid. Stella holds up her hand and he tugs the hair elastic off her wrist to finish up. “There. All done. Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yep!”

Stiles pushes her away gently and stands up so that she can climb under her comforter. “Are we reading more Matilda tonight?”

Her dark eyes light up, so Stiles picks up the book from her nightstand and settles in to read.

***

Stella’s bedtime is eight, so once she’s in bed Stiles heads downstairs to grab a snack. Then, a can of Pringles wedged under his arm, he goes back upstairs to his room to work on his homework. Homework and babysitting. That’s his life. And to think Stiles had started this year with a plan to become popular! The allowance his dad pays him puts gas in his Jeep, which is great, but also, now he has nowhere to go. He likes to think that if he didn’t have to spend so much time looking after Stella that he’d have a bunch of awesome parties to go to, but who is he kidding? He’s not that popular, and nobody wants to invite the Sheriff’s kid to the fun parties anyway.

Homework and babysitting and werewolves.

Jesus. His eight-year-old sister knows about werewolves, and Stiles has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do about that.

He falls asleep in front of his laptop and his half-finished English paper.

[stagekiller]

   GUNK UNDER UNKEMPT NAILS sticks out between fingerless gloves, an elbow idly resting on his knee. With his head drooping forward & a straw hat casting bold shadows it's hard to make out more than just a pointy chin, but security guards wouldn't care too much : to them it's just another beggar. And the rule has it that vagrancy isn't permitted in the hallways. He might disrupt the flow, bother commuting citizens with the stench his ragged baggage emits. Two baggy sacks rest against the wall beside him, each covered in a variety of stains.

" Sir. What you're doing isn't allowed in the premises. Come with me, please."

     The first admonishment is nearly mellow. It doesn’t even earn a budge. “ Sir. You’re going to have to come with me. ” He repeats under a huff. This time there’s a twitch of the man’s pinkie. His filthy shoes slide quietly against equally crummy subway floors. " I said get up,  you're in the way. " A tremble in his voice betrays his impatience. It’s late. The hallways buzzing white lights are giving him a headache.   

     Disheveled digits curl languidly into a fist. The man’s other hand slowly comes to press against its twin, both palms clenched. He begins to rotate one as if he’s wiring up a jack-in-the-box. With perfect timing, the middle finger of one hand rises as if it were a wind up toy. A disgruntled growl escapes the guard. “ Okay, that’s it ! ”

     His hand abducts a bare wrist, pale skin lathered in sweat & filth, in desperate need of a good scrub to reveal its true color. A mere move is made to grab one of the sacks, but the guard's pull disrupts his balance, forcing him to leave his precious belongings behind. Tenacious grip reaches for the beggar’s jacket. It’s not hard to spin the grimy man around, despite his height. As he does so, forcefully dragging him along towards the nearest exit, the guard thinks he heard a high-pitched snicker. It’s disregarded as yet another antic of a diseased mind.

     Frustration is evident in a windy stride. The beggar’s heels slide noisily against the floor, kicking back with each forced step. Soon, dull grey escalators appear in the distance. They roll slowly, separated with a strip of plain staircase. The guard almost sighs in relief, eager to get rid of that pervasive mix of garbage and rotting carcass that is bound to stain his hand. “ Fuck’s sake tonight. ” He mutters under his breath. They stand at the escalator’s edge. Free hand jerks to grab the man’s forearm, aiming to shove him forward and onto the stairs...

    And then, a sudden spin on heel, accompanied by a thundering yelp. Time freezes in a still of the guard's gaping mouth dripping a thick lump of white drool, his stance hunching closer to the glistening leer that stands opposite him. Proximity is laced in tender violence, that soft realization of a man facing the one who claimed his life. Switchblade twists noisily in his stomach, harvesting warm crimson that drips on the floor, orchestrating a morbid rhythm.

    Pearly grin seems to permeate everything in his blurry vision field; the lights blink, his eyelids droop. Breath hitches as the sharp sting of sharp blade being pulled back out of freshly ripped skin numbs. In perfect timing with a second blow, the realization sinks in as metal does in juicy viscera; he recognizes the mangled face staring down at him as weak knees give in. Ginger brows rise in a gleeful peal of manic laughter.

     Underneath the straw hat’s shadows, Jerome Valeska’s abhorrent mouth spills mirth over a croaky swansong. The man instinctively tries to reach for his intercom. But the blade’s bite restricts his movements. Knees fall heavy against stained tiles. His assailant crouches with him, tenderly placing his body on the floor. Another futile attempt to call for help is made from this new position; one that’s sure to become his final one. Limbs gradually stiffen. A pointy chin tilts in mock confusion, the clown’s horrid scars hovering above him as vultures circle prey. After a moment in deathly silence, a hoarse voice finally breaks the monotone of muffled pants and bloody hiccups.

  “ ...You’re probably askin’ yourself- ” A pause. Free hand pinches a chapped chin. The clown’s shrewd gaze traverses to the ceiling and lights reflect in his pupils. “ -why the subway ? ” Sardonic nodding. “ Is it a .. message? A political statement. Maybe this guy just really hates trains... ” He continues to rub his chin in feigned thoughtfulness. Until chuckling spills from his disfigurement. “ Mm. That’s a good question. ” A finger wags in the guards direction. Jerome takes a moment to reach out and pinch the writhing man’s name tag, browse over his credentials. Then, an imprudent grip digs into the inner pockets of his blue jacket. After a thorough pat down, he finds what he’d been looking for; the guard’s personal cellphone.

       Squatting beside his dying victim, the clown wipes his switchblade clean on each of the man’s cheeks, painting a smile. There’s a certain undertone of perverted admiration in his maddened gaze. The guard merely responds, his eyes wide with horror, hands creeping up his chest in a final attempt to press down on his own gushing wounds. Jerome does naught to stop him. Instead, he focuses on the phone in his grip, dialing beep drowned under his raspy narration.

 “ When I was a kid, growin’ up in the circus— ya’kno’ that story, bet you’re kind that kicks his shoes off the coffee table and turns on GCN nightly while, uh, Susan plays wit’ your balls. ” A cackle. He leaves the number on screen, thumb hovering over the call button. Yet, instead of pressing it, Jerome turns back to the guard and continues while tucking his switchblade back into place.

    “ When I was a kid, Timothy ... I remember one time my Uncle took me to the city, downtown. He had business. Left me to window shop for a bit. Oh, I remember stumbling ‘cross one of those big - ” Arms spread to gesture the size. “ - toy trains, you know the ones with the mountains an’ the lil’ houses and the hills and the steeper heels and the junction rails... Stood there at the window, watching for hours.. ‘till my Uncle came back and dragged my ear all the way t’a home. Hell, he knew there was no way in hell I’d get my lil’ hands on that. Ha! Tell you what, kids like me ? I called it a hoot if I had breakfast on Christmas. ” He sneaks a pause in to laugh by himself.

    “ Kids like... Bruce Wayne, on the other hand- ” Head tilts, lips puckering into a faux pout. His pallid mien distorts in an expression that’s equal parts dread and amusement. “  ... He’s got a life size toy train, right here. ” One gloved hand abruptly jerks behind him, gesturing to the vacant halls. In the distance, the trains would be busy with people returning from work ... for the last time. Further down the hall, the explosives concealed in those garbage bags Jerome left behind would block the way out for those unlucky few that escaped the explosions in the wagons. Perhaps the entire wing would collapse ! Who knows, really. With another complacent snicker, the jester pushes himself up on long legs, discards the filthy straw hat and runs a hand through messy ginger spikes.

         “ Pth-heeh! Hey, hey, don’t worry ‘bout a thing, Timmy. ‘M sure you’re gonna bleed out before the boom. Oh, that reminds me- ” A small detonating device is collected from Jerome’s pocket and stuffed into the dying guard’s mouth. The clown offers one last soft noise though his horrid Glasgow grin before sliding around on heel and walking away. Eerie whistling fills the corridor.

                       A couple of minutes later comes the first blaring collapse.

[jasontoddiefor]

Chapter 11 of that one story in which Robin #3 is magic, literally.

Read on AO3

Robin woke up again when somebody knocked gently against his door. Sleepily, he crawled out of his bed and walked over to the door. He had fallen asleep in yesterday’s clothes and given the bright sunlight already shining through the curtains, Robin must have slept through the night.

Tentatively he opened the door just a crack. He expected Alfred, not Nightwing to be standing there, looking quite nervously. He was dressed in civilian clothes and it painted a quite different picture than that of the serene vigilante of before. He seemed tired, vulnerable.

“Can I come in?”

Robin opened the door wordlessly and stepped aside to make space for him.

Nightwing entered the room and looked around. The room was a little more lived-in than it had been when Robin first saw it, but it still wasn’t anything special. Still, somehow he was embarrassed by it. Robin had been made to be striking and the room wasn’t special compared to all the others in the manor.

“It’s nice,” Nightwing said, walking up and down.

He was uncomfortable in Robin’s presence and stalling time on top of it. With a sigh, Robin sat down at his desk chair.

“Do you want anything in particular, Nightwing?”

Nightwing frowned at him, confusion sprinkled all over his face like his freckles.

“Night- you can call me Dick, if you want to.” Dick stopped talking, halted, and realization took hold of him. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Richard ‘Dick’ John Grayson,” Robin replied easily, the knowledge of the previous Robin’s identity as clear as if he’d downloaded it from the batcomputer. “Twenty-one-years old, Blüdhaven vigilante operating as Nightwing . You’re also a founding member of the Teen Titans, a group of mostly teenagers to young adults, most of whom were former sidekicks of-“

“Woah, woah, kid, slow down.” Dick held up his hands in a placating manner, now grinning sheepishly. “I see you know your stuff. But yes, you can call me Dick if you want to.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “Well, I have to ‘know my stuff’ as Robin. Not that I’m doing much of that right now.”

Dick winced and, deflating like an old balloon, sat down on Robin‘s unmade bed.

“It’s not an easy time for Bruce- all of us really. Jason’s death… Nobody but that fucking clown is to blame, but Bruce still feels responsible.”

Dick’s eyes hardened and his voice edged on the corner of terrifyingly dangerous just after mentioning the Joker.

“But I’m not Jason!” Robin argued. “I’m not much of anyone but Robin, and Batman doesn’t even let me be that!”

Robin crossed his arms over his chest, already in a fool mood. The day had hardly started and he was already angry. Great. Dick observed him silently and Robin didn’t want to know what kind of impression he was making on the other vigilante.

“I might not be able to change Batman’s opinion on that, not given the terms we are on now, but I could use another set of eyes.”

Dick seemed to be hesitant saying those words, but Robin almost immediately began vibrating with energy.

“You want my help?” Robin asked, almost toppling his chair when he hurried to stand up.

Dick nodded seriously. “Yes, that’s why I came to the Cave originally. I’m tracking a ring of arms dealers and Batman has the better tech, but I think I’ll work just as fast with you helping out. So do you want to-“

“Yes!” Robin shouted. “Yes, yes, yes, please. I’ve been trying to solve old cold cases from the police, but without leaving the manor my investigations have been going super slowly and please let me help!”

Dick laughed and stood up. “Alright, alright. Down to the kitchen again then? Alfred's made breakfast and my files are downstairs. I suppose I have to get them from the Cave. You can change into something fresh in the meanwhile.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

As soon as Dick had left the room, Robin rushed to his wardrobe and quickly put on new clothes. A pair of sweatpants, gray this time, and a comfortable black and yellow Batman sweatshirt later, Robin was sitting at the kitchen table, munching on his cornflakes while Dick was sorting through his files.

Alfred had tsk’ed once in disapproval, but given that Robin wasn’t supposed to be in the Cave, they had to take their work upstairs.

Working alongside Nightwing was fun. The vigilante was perceptive and Robin admired how efficiently he worked, and how well he knew his city and its criminals. He gave Robin a quick rundown of what organization they were dealing with, how they operated and what had tipped Nightwing off.

Then the two of them started tracing the organization’s work back to Gotham, slowly dismantling them. After a couple hours had passed, they had connected the dealers with their buyers and began strategizing how to take them down.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Nightwing told Robin.

Robin smiled, this time with nothing holding him back. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself either, Nightwing.”

Nightwing messes up Robin’s hair delightfully, not even stopping when Robin shrieked.

“I told you, it’s Dick. If you’re gonna stick around a while longer, it’s only right you call me by my name.”

Robin pushed away the sheets of paper they had covered with mindmaps and leaned forward on the table, mustering Dick.

“Are you also going to stick around?”

Dick scratched the back of his head, eyes darting to the family photo sitting on the window sill. It was a small picture in a wooden frame depicting Alfred, Bruce, Dick and Barbara somewhere in the gardens. Right next to it was another picture of Jason, probably only a few months after his adoption, in his school uniform, standing in the foyer together with Bruce. Bruce was beaming and Jason smiling shyly. Robin wouldn’t know what he’d do if Batman ever smiled at him like that, probably start crying.

“I think I’ll show up a little more often,” Dick finally answered. “The Titans- they’re fine. Blüdhaven, of course, still needs me, but she’s not called Gotham’s sister city for nothing. If Gotham gets worse, Blüdhaven does as well. It’s in my best interest to keep an eye on Gotham as well.”

Dick said Gotham , but Robin guessed what he actually meant was Batman .

“I’ll make sure everything works out here in your absence,” Robin promised. “Or, I’ll try my best at least.”

“That’s more than enough, trust me,” Dick smiled.

That was when Alfred entered the kitchen and with barely ten words, told them to pack up so he could prepare lunch. Quickly, Robin and Dick cleaned up and put the various sheets they had stolen from the arts and crafts room in different folders so Dick could take them home comfortably.

Dick put everything in his blue messenger back and set off to deposit it back in his room. Since he said nothing to Robin, Robin decided to follow him. The family wing looked just like it did a month ago, freshly cleaned with nothing out of place.

Dick opened the door to his room and let Robin inside. Now that Robin was seeing Dick’s room for a second time, he could see how well it fit Dick. The CD player in the corner was angled in such a way that you got the best sound and the stacks of CDs next to it were a wild mix of modern pop, the 80s and bands that used to be popular a couple of years ago.

The right wall of the otherwise blue room was covered by a large mural. The skyline of a city with a lot of air balloons swinging gently in the wind above.

“Where is that?” Robin asked.

“Huh?” Dick turned his head to look in the same direction as Robin. “Oh. That? That’s Paris about ten years back? It was the first big vacation Bruce and I took. We went to Europe and tracked through France. Nobody knew who we were, it was quite refreshing. Especially since I hadn’t gotten used to the fame that came with being Bruce Wayne’s ward yet. There was a tournament or so near Paris and the sky was full of the balloons. It was the highlight of the vacation for me. And if not for the drug-dealing ring we accidentally shattered, I think it would have been Bruce’s as well.”

Robin, who had sat down on the bed, did a double-take at hearing about Dick and Bruce's adventure.

“You accidentally took down a drug-dealing ring? How do you even do that?”

Dick laughed and sat down on the ground, leaning against his bookshelves. “Okay, so it’s probably not even that funny, but you know how Bruce has a sixth sense for crime? So we’re walking down that beautiful alley and Bruce just freezes and squints at some shady dudes in one corner…”

Dick latched onto the story, narrating in great detail Robin and Batman’s adventure in Europe. And because he kept making references to other missions and the like, Dick kept going off track and told Robin more and more stories.

The longer he talked, the happier did Dick seem to become, and Robin too was pulled in by his enthusiasm. Some of these stories Robin knew, but the more he learned, the more did he realize that factual knowledge couldn’t compare to Dick’s vibrant description of the time Batman and Robin saved the holidays. The life Dick had lived was so colorful and fantastic - Robin wanted something like that for himself.

He could do without taking a swim in the sewers, but he’d give everything for Batman to look at him with the same fond exasperation Dick talked of.

“And that’s the reason why Bruce and I shared a hotel room,” Dick ended his monologue. “Talking rooms - is there a reason we relocated to the guest wing?”

Robin shrugged. “I think that’s Alfred’s doing. Bruce wasn’t sleeping well here.”

“Or at all?” Dick guessed with a sigh. “It’s no surprise with Jason’s room next door.”

“I found him in there in my first week,” Robin blurted out. “I don’t know what he was doing. He was just sitting on the ground and I had no idea how to act!”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Dick said. “Everybody grieves in a different way.”

Robin knew that Dick was trying to reassure him, but his words weren’t helping. Robin was well aware of how grief worked, it was part of their job and so he knew it, but he still couldn’t do anything to support Batman because he kept locking Robin out.

“But I still want to help him and I can’t because he won’t even let me come near him.”

“I promise I’ll talk to him when he gets him tonight. Maybe I can get Bruce to slow down a little. We’re not as close as we used to be, but maybe I can improve the situation a little.”

“And what should I do in the meantime?”

Dick reached up and pulled a book out of his shelf. Easily, he threw it at Robin. “Live a little.”

Robin caught the book and turned it around so he could read the cover. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

The book looked rather old and worn. A quick flip through revealed pages covered in all kinds of ink and markers.

“What’s this?” Robin asked.

“The first Harry Potter book,” Dick answered. “I had to read it for class a couple years back and took a lot of notes in it. Kids your age are supposed to like it-”

“You mean one month going on one decade?” Robin replied snarkily, but Dick didn’t even  bother to reply to that.

“-and even beyond that. It’s just a fun book to read. Try to broaden your horizon a little further away from Robin or you’ll go mad.”

Dick fell silent and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he tilted his head slightly. He was observing Robin - no, the mask Robin couldn’t take off.

“And we need to do something about that too. You can’t keep running around  in the house with a mask and without a name.”

Robin just rolled his eyes. He supposed this was where he differed from regular humans. Robin was all he was and all he ought to be. He didn’t need to broaden his horizon.

“I have a name! I already told you that! It’s Robin.”

“Yeah, no.” Dick shook his head. “Robin is a title . You need a name.”

Robin didn’t get it. Maybe this was another one of these civilian life things he was supposed to follow now? It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, the others just didn’t understand that Robin was all he would ever be and all he was supposed to be. It was fine, he didn’t mind if he would actually get to do his job.

“I’m fine without, really,” Robin insisted.

From Dick’s sigh, Robin deduced that he didn’t believe him, but it wasn’t like this discussion would go anywhere anytime soon.

“Just try it, alright? You don’t just have vigilantism in your DNA.”

Robin was going to argue that he very much did, going by the components that constructed his DNA and its donors, but decided against it in the last second. If Dick was too stubborn to see it, Robin would just have to accept it and move on. At least he’d have some more entertainment for the next weeks.

“Thanks for the book,” Robin said instead.

Dick smiled. “No problem. You can tell me what you thought of it when you’ve read it. I’m curious to hear your thoughts on it. Bruce would always try to overinterpret the book instead of just enjoying it.”

Robin blinked.

“How do you just enjoy it?”

Dick began to laugh and threw back his head so far, that it knocked against his bookshelf, but even the sudden pain from that didn’t seem to deter him.

“I’m serious!” Robin said, his cheeks flushed red. “Explain!”

But Dick kept on laughing, bright and joyful.

[lizartgurl]

I wish you would write a fic where Emma’s celebrates her first birthday at the manor

ANDI I LOVE THE NEW ICON IT’S MAGICAL

And this…this got way too long.

Mary and John Grayson were murdered on April 1, 2006. A little over a month later, on May fifteenth, Emma Mary Grasyon, her mother’s namesake, was supposed to celebrate her twelfth birthday in a place that was still strange, where the only family to celebrate with her was her little brother. Neither of them were in a mood for celebrating.

Emma woke up that morning with eight-year-old Richard snuggled against her, squeezing the life from his plush elephant, Zitka, named for their elephant friend from the Circus. She had been a “Welcome Home” gift from Mister Bruce, an attempt to make the vast and empty Wayne Manor feel more alive. 

Emma had lion of her own, named Simba. The circus had tigers, but not lions, so her little friend was named after the Lion King who also had to witness his father falling to his death. 

Emma tossed Simba across the room, he softly hit the door and fell to the floor as Alfred the Butler opened it.

“I assume Master Richard had another nightmare?” He asked quietly.

Emma nodded, slowly sitting up. Being called “master” or “miss” was still something she was getting used to.

“Then I will bring his uniform in here and make sure to keep the pancakes warm. I believe it would be best to let him sleep for now.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, and made her way over to the wide expanse of a vanity, brushing her back into a ponytail, just as she always did.

Alfred didn’t leave, dusting off Emma’s school uniform that had been pressed and set out on her desk chair the night before.

“Did you sleep quite well last night, Miss Emma?” He asked.

Emma snapped the elastic into place, “Just fine,” She assured him.

“If I may,” Alfred pulled a burgundy red ribbon from his pocket, carefully tying a bow around her ponytail.

“Happy Birthday, Miss Emma,” He gave the young girl a soft smile beneath his perfectly groomed mustache.

Emma made the effort to smile up at the old butler. “Thanks, Alfred.”

Thirty minutes later, Richard was running down the stairs, struggling to straighten out his school uniform as he sprinted to join Emma, Bruce, and little ‘Bella at the breakfast table.

“Morning, Champ,” Bruce said, not looking up from his paper. Emma noted that he was reading an article by Clark Kent, one of his friends, about the ridiculousness of the argument of “Batman versus Superman.”

“What’s he say?” Emma asked. Richard punctuated her question by piling tons of whipped cream onto his stack of pancakes, already drenched with syrup. Five-year-old Annabella watched Rick’s experiment of how high he could pile the cream before it fell over with wide brown eyes.

Mister Bruce grunted, “That Batman and Superman would work better together than fighting.”

Emma gave a “huh,” slowly chewing her strawberries and pancakes.

“I bet Superman would win.” She said, taking another bite. Bruce raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“No way!” Rick declared, already standing on his chair. “Batman has all those gadgets and stuff! And he’s smart! He’d find a way to stop Superman!”

“But why would they be fighting?” Annabella asked, forgoing the fork and eating her pancake with her bare hands. Alfred rushed forward with a damp cloth to stave off the syrup.

“That’s a good question, sweetheart,” Bruce leaned forward to kiss his daughter’s forehead, “But you are right, Richard, I bet Batman could take Superman down if he really had to.”

“Well,” Alfred interjected, “I happen to think that Superman could whip Batman’s tush if he so desired.”

Emma, Richard, and Annabella burst into laughter. As if Alfred’s accent weren’t already perfect, the way he said “tush” was still hilarious to a couple of kids.

“Okay, okay, I guess they probably wouldn’t be fighting in the first place,” Bruce stood up to help Alfred clear the dishes, “In fact, there’s been talk that they’re going to start a team with some of the other heroes.”

“Like Wonder Woman?” Emma gasped.

“And Flash?” Richard asked through a mouth of whipped cream.

“And the other heroes who helped them with that alien invasion a couple months ago. Now chew with your mouth closed, champ, and hurry up, we gotta get you two to school.

-

Middle School would have been absolute Tartarus for “charity project” Emma Grayson if it weren’t for Bette Kane, Bruce’s cousin and heir to her own fortune. Emma giggled as Bette stood up in the middle of social studies to give a five-minute rant about how the myth of Medusa was just a bunch of Greek men with their togas on too tight projecting all their fears onto a woman and how that was still evident in today’s society. The teacher was stone-faced for ten minutes while the class applauded her.

“Alfred told me it was your birthday, today, so I brought cupcakes!” Bette said at lunchtime. They were huddled in their own corner of the courtyard, no one was going to bother them here. There weren’t any candles allowed on school grounds, but Bette sang her the “happy birthday” rendition from Emperor’s New Groove, and Emma had another reason to laugh, though she regretted that the chocolate cupcakes Bette brought tasted nothing like Aunt Kayla’s birthday cakes.

Not even Rick had wished her a happy birthday, she sighed as the three Wayne children arrived home from school to an empty manor. Bella, still in kindergarten, ignored her homework in favor of the gardens, and since Rick was still in elementary school and summer break was fast approaching, he followed. Alfred went with them to supervise after making sure that Emma was content in the Manor’s library with a plate of milk and cookies. 

Emma soon abandoned her boring few assignments, scouring the shelves for anything interesting to read. Her eyes fell on a copy of “The Mask of Zorro,” novelization. It sounded only slightly more interesting than “Pride and Prejudice”, but it seemed that it didn’t want to come off the shelf. 

With a yank, she managed to pull the book forward, but not completely off the shelf. The floor beneath her feet shook, and that section of the shelf crawled forward, just enough that it could slide in front of another section.

Right behind the shelf was a cool, dark staircase, illuminated with tiny blue lights, curving down and out of sight.

She jumped back, unable to process this discovery, and a few minutes, the shelf returned to its proper position with a loud cranking noise.

She turned and ran from the library. 

Alfred was in the kitchen, patching Annabella’s knee, so Emma ran straight for Rick, lining up sticks and pebbles to create his own version of Gotham city.

“Richard! You gotta come see this, now!” It only took minimal dragging to get Rick all the way to the library, but a lot of cajoling to get him to stand right there and be patient while she found the right book. Then, he was the one dragging her down the stairs to see what was hidden at the bottom. Emma was the only one of them who noticed when the door shut behind them. With no apparent way out, she followed Rick to the bottom.

“Woah,” Rick gasped as the stairway opened up into a cavern. Stalactites still hung from the top, interspersed with small groups of annoyed, fluffy bats, but the stalagmites on the floor had been cleared for catwalks, computers, suits in display cases, a giant playing card, and a giant mechanical dinosaur, of all things.

“This is awesome!” Rick shouted to make his voice echo with the dripping water.

Emma had a sneaking suspicion that they shouldn’t be there, and tried to back up, only to run into a wall. But it wasn’t a wall. She turned, and it was Bruce, glaring down at the both of them, arms crossed over a giant, black, Batman symbol on his chest.

“You’re him,” she squeaked. 

“Batman!” Rick gasped. 

Bruce just sighed, “I didn’t think you would be home from school yet. Get back upstairs, both of you.”

“What? Why?” Rick whined.

“Because I’m Batman, and I said so.” Bruce growled.

Richard glared at Batman’s cape as he sashayed away, confident that was enough to make them obey.

“You can’t make me, you’re not my dad!” He ducked under Bruce’s arm and swung from one catwalk to the next, deftly balancing on the rails as he rain, taking shortcuts a grown man like Bruce couldn’t hope to achieve, even if he was Batman.

As out-of-place as she felt, Emma was curious, about the cave, and about her foster father being Batman. He had been there the night that her family died. Why didn’t he save them? Batman was supposed to be a detective, wasn’t he? So why didn’t he stop Mister Zucco? 

Inflamed by a sudden bout of anger, Emma leaped up onto the railing, copying Richard as she ran after Bruce. She landed on his cape for a moment, enough to distract him from grabbing Rick, and then leave him confused over which child to catch first. That gave her enough of a lead to make it to his giant computer.

Bruce caught Richard fairly quickly, a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder as he steered him to where his sister was waiting, but not quite hiding. He was a little ticked to find Emma sitting in his favorite chair- the only chair in his hideout, as a matter of fact- in front of the computer, eyes narrowed and arms folded tightly.

“You know where Zucco is,” She accused coldly, the GPS on display for all to see on the screen behind her.

Bruce couldn’t find an answer as Richard looked up to him, shocked and hurt.

“You were there that night,” Emma stood up, rigid and shaking, “You could have stopped him, and you didn’t. And now Mami, Tati, Aunt Kayla, and Jonny are dead, and Uncle Joseph is paralyzed for life.”

“You’re right,” Bruce admitted, which surprised both Graysons, “I could have stopped Zucco and his men, and I didn’t. I doubted that Zucco would do something so bold in plain sight, and it cost your family their lives.”

Emma’s eyes stung and Bruce released his grip on Richard and took her by the shoulders, kneeling in front of her. “That’s why I took you two in, because I know what it’s like to lose your family, and because I promised myself that I was going to stop Zucco from ever doing something like this again.

Richard sniffed loudly, and Emma wiped her own tears with the hem of her school jacket. “Let us help you,” She begged.

“No,” Bruce said with finality. He stood up, pulling Batman’s familiar cowl over his face. “You two stay here. I’ll take down Zucco and be back in time to tuck the two of you and Annabella into bed.”

Still, Emma and Richard persisted, following him down to the “Bat-Mobile, waiting on a rotating platform to shoot off in any direction at a moment’s notice. 

“You two can’t get involved with this,” Bruce insisted, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So was the acrobatics we did at Haly’s.” Emma huffed.

“No. Now get upstairs before I call Alfred,” the top of the Bat-mobile slammed shut, and shot off through the waterfall that concealed the cave’s entrance from the rest of Gotham.

Emma’s hands shook. She didn’t care if Bruce was really batman or Wonder Woman or whatever. Tony Zucco had killed her parents, and she wasn’t going to stand by and let him hurt anyone else, either.

“Emma,” Richard said quietly, “Do you know where Alfred put our old costumes?”

Emma knew her little brother was thinking what she was, and as she grinned at him, her eyes landed on a couple spare masks and sheets of kevlar, just big enough to be called a cape.

-

Batman caught Zucco and his men breaking into the Graysons belonging left in storage under Joseph Grayson’s name. When he woke up, he was strapped to a spinning target on the grounds previously occupied by Haly’s circus. You could still see some of the darkened dirt where the Graysons had fallen. Zucco was throwing knives at him with reckless abandon, while his men watched and laughed. 

“Look out, Batman!” Zucco cackled. Another knife flew through the air, aimed for his heart, but something knocked it to the ground. A dull batarang, one he’d left behind at the cave for Alfred to sharpen.

“Excellent shot, Miss Grayson,” Alfred’s voice manifested over his comms a moment later, as one of Zucco’s thugs had his feet yanked out from beneath him, and another was struck with a batarang to the shoulder.

“Alfred,” Bruce growled so that Zucco couldn’t heard over the sudden commotion.

“I’m afraid that they insisted, as you typically do,” Alfred quipped. “And I can’t very well quarantine all three children in the house at once.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as Emma Grayson, golden wings splayed across her red tunic top, eyes hidden behind a mask, and protected by a yellow skein of kevlar, sliced away the rope holding back his hands.

“Thank you,” He grunted, crouching to the ground. His belt had been stolen, but he grabbed a knife from the target board. With a flick of his wrist, it knocked the fedora clean off Zucco’s head.

Out of Batarangs, Richard and Emma each grabbed a couple knives that had nearly killed Batman to fend off the thugs that were now running at them.

Then Emma saw the gold dangling from Zucco’s pocket. Her mother’s necklace, a robin on a branch, made from solid gold. A Wedding present from John to Mary. She screamed with fury, using her knife to slice the hand Zucco was using to reach inside his coat for another knife. She went for his face next, but it was Batman who grabbed her wrist, blocking her from Zucco, who lay whimpering on the ground.

“He deserves it!” She spat, “He killed them!” 

Bruce kicked Zucco in the face with his heavy boots, down for the count as he gripped Emma’s arms tightly.

“It isn’t up to us to decide who lives and who dies. That’s how they think,” He nodded to Zucco, then to his men, who had been casually taken out by a few easy flips from junior acrobat Rick.

“Emma,” Bruce tried again when she refused to look him in the eyes. “Would your parents want you yo give in to your anger, to go down a path that’s very hard to return from, just for them?”

Lip trembling, Emma shook her head, and threw her arms around Bruce, sobbing. Rick joined them a moment later, also crying. 

They watched from a distance a few minutes later, as Commissioner Gordon arrived to arrest Zucco’s gang for murder, and thievery. Emma absently traced a heart in the dirt with her toe, holding Richard’s hand.

“I’m proud of you,” Bruce said as the police caravan drove away, “Both of you.”

He drew something from the pouch of his retrieved utility belt. “I believe that this belongs to you,” He held out Mary Grayson’s robin necklace to Emma, securing it around her neck.

“Happy Birthday, Emma.”