#would say only in Gotham but this is the west coast

[mummers-of-the-heart]

So update on the Leon Kennedy fic. Might not be able to get it out on Friday. I have to find the floor plan’s of my history professor’s house for the heist final Tuesday.

I wish I was making this up.

In other news, uhhhh apparently I can’t write normal meet cutes. Drafting one with Leon and it involves an effigy of reader, it makes sense in context.

[j0kers-light]

imagine j with a southern bunny! i'm from mississippi and i don't think i sound super southern but i must be because most people down here think i have thick accent 🤣 i think j would either love or hate a southern accent 😂

Hey hi my sweet anon!! 🖤✨

This is the part where I repp the south! TN & GA! LET'S GO SOUTHERN GIRLS!!! 😤

I'm constantly concealing my southern accent at work and I hardly recognize I have one until a friend from the west coast calls me out on it. Y'all just don't know.. I be sounding a hot mess so don't feel discouraged anon! This is for all my southern girls! Yee to the flipping haw.

I think its only fair to separate the two scenarios of him loving or hating your accent. I hope you enjoy love! 🖤✨

Poor Joker. Oftentimes, he doesn't understand what you're saying and finds himself staring at you perplexed.

You would think thick accents wouldn't be an issue for him (after dealing with his crazy ex girlfriend...) but he asks you to repeat yourself multiple times a day much to your annoyance.

Don't get him wrong! He adores his Bunny!!! He just can't quite understand how you shorten some words and exaggerate others. (Ring any bells Joker? 🙄)

Perhaps that's why he hates it so much because its so similar to his own unique speech pattern. He denies that it’s the same.

And don't get him started with how slow you speak as if you have all the time in the world.

Joker is used to the fast jargon of Gotham City (our modern day NY) so he expects quick conversations or at least ones that he can fully comprehend. He feels like he loses IQ points hearing you talk.

Whenever you say things like "over yonder" or "whatchamacallit" he rolls his eyes and demands you speak plainly or not at all. "I am Joker. Quit calling my kettle black and gone get."

What does it even mean?! You and your southern sayings are driving him insane(r)!

He thought you were faking the whole accent thing until you went to visit family and he tagged along.

You have been speaking plainly to Joker because your relatives are practically speaking a different language compared to you.

He wants to turn himself in at Arkham if he has to listen to this southern drawl any longer. It is grating his nerves.

It gets worse the longer you stay home. You forgo all proper grammar and anything goes.

Joker can't stand how you sound so proper while simultaneously butchering the English language. He is happy to drop off his Bunny and get out of dodge.

Although he does miss you after a few days and calls you up asking what your plans are for the day and... well.

"I'm fixin' to go round yonder with Boost n' em then we finna cut up until Ma calls for us or till them Katydids start singin. Just a whole bunch a nuthing. You?"

Where does he begin to translate? His head hurts just thinking about trying. "Nothing Bunny. Just forget it."

He instead came up to the house (wearing his face mask of course) to see you. Your parents swarm him wanting to meet the man who stole their baby's heart although it was obvious they don’t approve of J.

Joker didn't mind his manners and his disgust for your inherited accent was visible the entire time.

You smiled and acted as the neutral party between the opposing sides until the sun started to set and Joker decided to leave.

You and your Mom stood on the veranda, watching Joker drive off. Mom waited until he was out of earshot to give her two cents. "Baby, that boy's cornbread ain't done in the middle, ain't it?"

You spat out your sweet tea. WAS IT THAT OBVIOUS?!

Now! Let's discuss Joker loving your southern accent!

From the moment he heard that alluring southern twang spill from your lips, he’s down bad.

You're every bit the iconic southern belle found in movies. Flirtatious by default and ever the tease, you are perfection to him; like a breath of fresh air.

Joker practically drools knowing that's how you were raised yet you keep that side of yourself a secret in order to blend in up north.

He rarely hears your accent because you go above and beyond to sound like citizens of Gotham City.

Your southern twang only slips through the cracks when you're angry, emotional, stressed, etc.

Joker tries his best to bring it out of you because he’s a shameless simp. Your voice is just too hypnotizing to hide!

Your accent kinda reminds him of his own speech pattern with how you pronounce certain vowels or syllables and speak slowly in order for the audience to appreciate every word or double meanings.

It’s an artform that he admires greatly and he loves when you read to him at night.

Or when he comes home all banged up and he catches your feminine gasp. Your “bless your heart baby! C’mere, I’ll fix ya up.” makes him feel so much better. 😍

Yet there are times in which you catch him by surprise with your flourish of words.

It was his idea to take his Bunny out hiking in the outskirts of Gotham. You grew up in the country and at times, the big city felt stifling.

Joker thought some nature would be good for your mood. He didn’t foresee becoming lost.

When he passed the same grove of flowers for the third time, you groaned in frustration. “Just admit it, J! We’re turned every which way but loose!”

He froze hearing your southern accent make a rare cameo. The power you had over him…

He was happy to hear it, but now was not the time to be smiling. “Uh come again Bunny?”

You stomped in your hiking boots and furiously began fanning yourself. ”There you stand in high cotton, and I’m over here sweatin’ like a sinner in church!”

Joker was so confused, yet completely in awe.

Each wild saying has his grin spreading wider and wider and you knew he didn’t hear a word you said; merely just the sound of them.

“J….” You warning him as he slowly advanced forward.

“Keep talking Sugar. You sound soooooo sweet.”

You rolled your eyes as Joker backed you into a tree and took hold of your hips.

“You hard a hearing is you?” You sigh with each distracting kiss Joker left on your neck, “J.. stop. I smell rain coming. We need to head on back.”

“You can… smell rain?” He asked.

“You can’t?”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 7/2/2024

as of friday i have lived in texas for a full year. that's the most neutrally diplomatic thing i can say about my time in this state so far

listening

i did a lot of driving last week and had the first album from genshin impact's legally-not-France nation on loop bc it's a lot of vivaldi inspired stuff and i find that soothing. however! one of my favorite pieces of music from this nation is this battle track. i don't have any music words but i do like the.. pipe organ emphasis? on the little flourish at 0:28. catholic brain go brrrr

-

reading

thank you mackintosh.

i liked gotham city: year one! many many many callbacks but framed in a way "and this is the start of the blueprint for how everything would go" which made me less annoyed than callbacks for their own sake. a very chandler-esque take on noir, by which i mean a fundamentally good (but tired) man gets beaten to shit and survives a doublecross as he unravels a fucked up little family dynamic for the pure nosy sake of unraveling it.

-

watching

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare (2024, dir. Ritchie). a spy/action/comedy thing about Operation Postmaster, a wwii special operation off the west coast of Africa to disrupt nazi u-boat supplies.

i did not like this at all.

i generally like a guy ritchie film-- the holmes duolgy are movies i would happily rewatch at any time, but this one is very flat. there's very little banter and remarkably little dialogue-- long stretches of this film are of people getting from place to place in perfect silence. even the soundtrack is remarkably toned down. most of it sounds like ai-generatred morricone (very few of the musical passages like. resolve in any sensible manner. there is no theming and no noticeable leitmotif. one of the worst covers of mack the knife ive ever heard is at the climax of the fuckin film. what if someone ominously tapped a hihat to create tension for literally half the movie with NO other accompaniment). when it doesn't sound ai-generated and kind of off (morricone's cowboy western work is not what i expect for a largely seafaring wwii movie) it sounds like they rented a jazz five-piece for a weekend. one of the worst soundtracks i've ever heard. it was extremely distracting.

this is a heist movie that never really figured out how to effectively intercut actions its team is independently taking. there are also a lot of places where the cuts are very strange, especially in the final harbor scene flicking back and forth from the land crew to the boat crew. just felt very underbaked as a movie. i was frequently bored. not an effective comedy, action, or spy movie. just barely a coherent war movie, though not a very enjoyable one.

-

playing

the breath of the wild to genshin ripoff pipeline is pretty clear, esp in the legally-not-India nation with lots of legally-not-koroks. u get a bunch of chests and achievements if u find all 76, i finally sat down on friday with an hour-long walkthough video and found them all. every single four-leaf clover sigil is where one of these fuckers was. and to get to this point, i had to do a whole DIFFERENT quest chain with different collectibles to unlock some of the legally-not-koroks and also make room on my map to free up 76 markers. very annoying process. i fucking hate collectibles for the sake of collectibles and padding out gameplay. i could not imagine doing this if i were employed

-

making

cross stitch update.

i got this belt for the ren faire when my sister came down, finally got around to pulling it out of the freezer and cleaning it the other day, and it was what i can only call yucky-disgusting. an inordinate amount of scunge for a belt with very few signs of wear. it's impossible to photograph bc it's quite late and i did not think to take a before shot, but it straight up changed color. it is much lighter now

[vee-crytraps]

Good Luck, Babe! | CH 1-1 | Ice Cream for Breakfast

{Trigger Warning/Themes Masterlist} This is split into a billion parts because it's long as hell! Read on Ao3 to avoid the headache!

It isn’t unusual to be up before everyone else in the house. To say that the people in your adoptive family were night owls is a total understatement. Most mornings, Wayne Manor was full of the haunting sort of quiet you would expect in any normal residence during dead of night. Only a handful of years ago, you couldn’t stand the eerie halls of the East wing before ten am. The tall windows leaking pale light onto the antique dark wood, the ornate, unblinking portraits that loomed over you with eyes that seemed to follow. Total daylight horror vibes. You still felt like that sometimes. Especially as you grew older, and nearly everyone else moved out.

Dick was out in California with his West coast lollipop brigade before he settled in Blüdhaven. Jason, you had barely gotten to know before he died, and upon his resurrection (and subsequent rehabilitation), he moved out and never looked back. Tim was…Tim. Overworked, overtired. He’d moved out before he was even legally an adult- but he basically a CEO at that point anyway. It only made sense that he carve out a little something for himself in the world, especially when Damian came along and assumed the Robin mantle. And then there was Damian- the only current permanent resident aside from yourself, Bruce and Alfred. You wouldn’t say that you were friends exactly, but you had certainly developed an understanding in the quiet moments you ended up spending together. So yeah, most of your older brothers were onto greener pastures. As much as it sucked to see such a large house so empty, you knew better than to whine about it. It had been a long time since your brief stint as Robin when you were about eight years old, but even then you could register that the vibe in the bat cave was…tense, to say the very least. You had felt it in the manor, too- the anger and sadness swirling around your family of vigilantes. And Bruce, your godfather, Batman- at the very center of it all. There was a saying in the city- that if you ever saw Batman, trouble wasn’t far behind. He was Gotham’s own Mothman, bringing omens of collapsing bridges, bizarre hostage situations and stuck up banks. Still, chasing Batman made for cool stories and dynamic photos, with only a minor threat of personal harm on a good day. Despite the good sense of the Batman Rule, Gotham city residents leaked into the streets for a peak of the curling cape and badass rocket car. If you saw the bat family, however, you were well and truly fucked. These days, your family only really got together on cataclysmic occasions, the stuff one step down from the bone chilling, universe ending Justice League shit. Well, that. And your birthday. It was why you seized every opportunity to take advantage of the situation, seated in the large dining hall with a plan in place. Pressing the tips of your fingers together in a super-villain worthy steeple, you rest your elbows on the ancient oak of the dining table. You were at the far end- the very head, in a chair that was usually reserved for Bruce. “You wouldn’t want to set a bad example by reneging on your promise to me, now would you?” A mischievous smirk curled on your lips as you released your hands from their position, to point to the paper birthday crown you’d fashioned for yourself in the early morning. “For my first decree,” you started, offering a dramatic wave. You gestured to the table, littered with spoons, bowls, and most notable- several pint sized containers of ice cream. Smaller silver dishes housed sprinkles, cherries, crushed candies and other fixings. “Ice cream for breakfast.” Part 2

[soleminisanction]

Have I ranted before about how the Devil's Square makes no fucking sense?

So I'm trying to write the next part of Batgirl, Repentant, and more fool me, that means I need to go back and re-read parts of Batgirl (2009) for research. And like what always happens when I do that, I noticed yet another detail that stops working when you stop to think about it for even a moment.

Because see, on the second page of the third issue, we get these two moments in rapid succession.

Scarecrow's hideout is in "Gotham's Western Quadrant, the Devil's Square," established in the previous issue as a bad neighborhood, quote, "Otherwise known as 'Thunderdome.'" This place is treated like it's a Big Stinkin' Deal for the first two arcs (maybe the first year? I don't remember clearly and I don't want to go any further down this rabbit hole than I have) of this series, but nothing about it makes sense.

We are never ever given a clear reason why this neighborhood is supposedly such a uniquely terrible place, but it's supposedly so bad that it's worth making a whole terrible philosophy lecture out of why criminals would choose to stay there.

But the closest thing we get is that, at one point, Professor Exposition describes it as "a demilitarized zone."

Which does not make any goddamn sense because that would require Gotham City as a whole to be the location of an ongoing military conflict. Y'know, like the one between the Koreas.

I can only assume, given Brian Miller et al's tendency to do zero research on even the most basic of plot elements (see also: labeling all of Stephanie's obviously freshman-level college classes with 400-level designations intended for seniors or grad students) that what he actually meant here was autonomous zone. Like the CHAZ, as imagined by your Republican uncle. The implication being that this is an area of town that's been completely abandoned by police and emergency services, reducing it to a lawless wasteland where criminals roam free. (A no man's land, you might say. 🙄)

EXCEPT. APPARENTLY. LITERALLY ONE ISSUE LATER. We get the panels I started this post off with, where Steph arrives at Scarecrow's hide-out in the Devil's Square and we get EXPLICIT confirmation that the police will be there in five minutes.

That's all to say nothing of the fact that it being "Gotham's Western Quadrant" that's been cut off makes zero sense on its face. Besides implying that's an entire QUARTER of the city that's just been completely abandoned, Steph at one point describes it as being "on the west bank of the Gotham River."

There is no west bank of the Gotham River. Gotham is on a series of islands off the coast of New Jersey. The west bank of the Gotham River is the MAINLAND where Bristol and the suburbs are.

Gotham's geography is super fluid and can change from book to book, but it being on an island connected only by a series of bridges was a big deal in this era and the only reason the No Man's Land concept even worked. If you're gonna rip that plot off, Miller, you gotta use an eastern neighborhood. Or a northern one. Or even a southern tip. Anything but west. That's like saying there's an east side of Chicago.

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

Can I ask about your extensive Scooby doo dc universe thing?

YES ABSOLUTELY! MY TIME HAS COME!

Okay so, as someone that has probably seen/read every Scooby Doo related thing under the sun it's fair to say there's more than a few Scooby Doo/DCU crossovers, and the more I've gotten into the DCU the more I've become interested in the logistics

It would be easy to say oh yeah dimension travel, but in a few crossovers it's implied Batman's already a thing there and also it lowkey makes sense to be in the same universe

I think it's easiest to use the mystery incorporated reboot as it has the most world buildingand has a concrete city where it's set - that being Crystal Cove

If we assume for now that Crystal Cove is near Gotham due to the scooby/DC crossovers always seem to involve Batman (shaggy in the discowing my love) which makes sense due to the crossover of detective themes

Now technically crystal cove is supposed to be on the east coast and Gotham I'm pretty sure is on the West but we're going to ignore that

crystal cove maybe not a part of Gotham but has links to it, I'm thinking on the coastline next to it

theres a company that appears in more than a few episodes of mystery Inc called Destroydo Inc. and has a whole plotline surrounding the pollution and toxic waste it's spreading so I imagine that due to the proximity that toxic waste is spreading to Gothams waters and air, which in turn further increasesthe pollution of Gotham's air and water

makes sense for it to be NEAR Gotham but not IN it

In one episode called Where Walks Aphrodite the main villain is a girl that makes everyone intoxicated on a 'love spell' in revenge for being humiliated at her graduation. We see that she runs away after the humiliation but we dont see WHERE (pretty sure the next scene is her in a lab making the formulae) so we could interpret that she could 've gone to Gotham and done research on the toxins there and adapted the formula basing it off of the base formulas for fear toxin or ivy pollen

again with destroydo, it's not only affecting the waters by them but seeping into the Gotham waters as well corrupting things further and the fumes from the towers adding to further pollution and mutations

We never really get a clear answer WHY Scooby can talk and have the same capacity for intelligence as humans, some reboots don't address it and other reboots can't seem to agree on a solid story

SO CANNONS MY PLAYGROUND

I think it would be interesting is Scooby was an ordinary dog that got mutated to be like that (maybe he fell in Gothams sewers or something) and either Shaggy found him whilst on a trip to Gotham or Scooby somehow escaped to crystal cove where shaggy found him

Professor Pericles could have the same story

(Would make them slightly more messed up looking but that would look sick)

I imagine that residents of crystal cove are relatively unfazed by the events keep happening (people running round in costumes causing crimes who are foiled by teenagers) because they're so near Gotham but aren't actually Gotham so aren't as desensitized so still get shocked/caught unawares

headless horror episode would be more easily believeable with all the whacky things that happen in DC

Velmas' mum's obsession with the occult is also much more believable

The amount of times it's bought up that Daphne's parents aren't at home or are away doing meeting/parties/holiday and them being rich as hell maybe she could have some links/ties to Gotham high society (can and will force galas into things)

You CANNOT tell me the hex girls wouldn't be a hit in Gotham

Gator episode/hotel could be set somewhere between cc and Gotham, the closer to Gotham the more creepy the towns/motels get

Velma runs a blog in mystery inc called the Big Blog of Mysteries where she talks about her adventures and any conspiracies as well as gathering info on odd circumstances and I am convinced that Bernard follows this blog and regularly comments on it

Going back to Where Walks Aphrodite it would make sense that a lot of villains get their gear/ their gear is inspired by Gotham

There's SO MUCH MORE but I have yet to put it in coherent words, once I have if anyone wants to know more please let me know I'm so happy to ramble about this!

I know this was more Scooby Doo geography focused but that's because I know more about it, the more I read Gotham based comics the more I'll talk about them, and probably the more I'll be able to make sense

But if anyone wants more please let me know!!

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #311: The WEAKEST POINT

December, 1989

Hydrobase DESTROYED!

Right from Atlantis Attacks to Acts of Vengeance?

Ugh. Marvel really was trying to shake all the quarters out of its audience in 1989. And then the trends of the 90s with special covers and new number one's galore? And then bankruptcy because the big comic companies had poisoned their own waters with that kind of behavior?

I'm getting ahead of myself.

I covered all of Atlantis Attacks because the Avengers and West Coast Avengers chapters wouldn't make any sense in isolation.

I am NOT covering all of Acts of Vengeance.

I counted 50 participating issues before I gave up! That is so much! And it's not really an overarching story so much as... like a vibe? A vague theme?

Villains attacking people they don't usually villain because some masterminds think that would give them a better chance of winning.

A flawed premise because in Marvel, the idea of a strict rogues gallery is a lot more loose. Since a huge chunk of the superhero populace operates out of New York, everybody just kinda shares.

I mean, sure, some of the match-ups that took place in Acts of Vengeance were unlikely. But they were match-ups that could have eventually happened just because Superman Doesn't Stay Out of Gotham in Marvel, if you catch my point.

As the bridge between all of Marvel, the Avengers are pretty likely to eventually fight anyone.

Anyway, I'll only be covering the Avengers and Avengers West Coast. If I try to cover everything I will die.

Also, I covered Atlantis Attacks first because Hydrobase/Avengers Island shows up in it and then (spoilers) it gets destroyed here in issue #311.

Remember how I kept saying enjoy the island while you could?

Yeah...

;_;

Look at Avengers Island in that opening splash! The runway and roads form a sorta A shape. That's just cool!

That's the coolest the island has ever looked because other aerial shots have been pretty barren or have only showed the Avengers Mansion.

Sadly, Avengers Island never really got a chance to shine. Introduced by Stern before he got unceremoniously booted by editorial meddling and barely utilized by Walter Simonson since his run barely got off the ground. John Byrne seemed like he was going to do something with it when his run started because he had the island moved closer to New York and renamed from Hydrobase to Avengers Island.

But it got hoisted out of the sea (somehow without being majorly damaged) in the Lava Men trilogy and then wasn't really important in the Gilgamesh Is Dead trilogy and now here we are where (spoilers) its going to be destroyed.

I'm jumping the gun a little bit to eulogize but it's been a recent them of the Avengers books that interesting ideas just don't get a chance before they're taken out back and shot.

Captain Monica as the chairwoman of the Avengers. The Worst Roster. Avengers Island.

There's always someone smacking the book and yelling at it to stop trying new things.

Anyway. My unending sadness aside, this is a Quasar focus issue.

I'm not really sure when he became an Avenger because he just started showing up as one when Cap announced the Every Avenger Is An Avenger roster. So either sometime in another book or he was just nearby when Cap was gathering people and got included to pad out the numbers.

(Apparently, there was a back-up story in Avengers Annual #18 set between Avengers #303 and 304 showing that Quasar got invited to join after the Super-Nova incident. Captain America and Hawkeye fight over him. It sounds like a fun story. But I read Avengers Annual #18 for Atlantis Attacks and sometimes back-up stories are omitted on Unlimited and whoops this is one of those times.)

Quasar shows up at Avengers Island after participating in another Acts of Vengeance over in his own book.

Speaking of ideas that never really got a chance to shine: the Avengers Support Crew finally show up!

With the Avengers getting a whole island as their headquarters, some noise was made in Simonson's run that they'd be hiring more of a support crew than just Jarvis. Mostly characters from Captain America's orbit.

But with Simonson leaving the book, not a lot was done with that idea. Until now! The very issue that the new, bigger headquarters they were hired to help with is going to sink!

Hahahaha ;_;

Anyway. We have Robert Frank Jr - Nuklo from Giant-Size Avengers #1. Son of the Whizzer and Miss America (not the modern one). He was cured of being excessively radioactive and got hired to be a groundskeeper on Avengers Island.

We have Peggy Carter. I don't need to explain Peggy Carter. She fought in World War II and was Cap's sometimes girlfriend. Then he started dating her niece instead. Which is a very normal thing to do, probably. She was hired to be in charge of telecommunications.

There's Fabian Stankiewicz. Good ol' Mechano-Marauder! That dingus that kept building robot suits to attack the Avengers and he was treated as a bit of a joke villain? Even getting beaten once by David Letterman. Yes, David Letterman. Cap saw potential in him anyway and hired him to maintain and improve the Avengers' technology.

There's M'Daka, a Wakandan pilot that delivered Captain America a new shield once. And apparently this made such an impression on Cap that he poached the guy from T'Challa to work for the Avengers as a mechanic.

Michael O'Brien, the former head of security for Project PEGASUS and later the Vault and was hired as head of security for the Avengers. Given the stuff that happened at Project PEGASUS and the Vault, I don't know if he's great at his job. But also the Avengers aren't great at security sometimes so its a lateral move, at worst.

Jarvis, of course, is on the payroll as butler and delightful human being. I assume he gets paid extra for being so delightful.

Keith Kincaid, husband to Jane Foster, was hired as a doctor so the Avengers wouldn't have to rely on mysterious Doctor Donald Blake just showing up whenever there's a medical emergency. And presumably to make Thor feel bad whenever he has to look at the dude that married his girlfriend because his dad made them break up.

There's also Donna Maria Puentes, a South American revolutionary that impressed Captain America with how good she was at shooting Nazi androids. So he hired her as an administrator.

Take this with a grain of salt because I'm also the person looking forward to the Avengers' 90s team jackets but I think the blue jumpsuits and red turtlenecks are a very spiffy look for the support crew.

I honestly like the idea that as a bigger, more officially recognized super-team, the Avengers would have a support staff. And since security is very hard for superheroes, it's mostly people that Captain America already knew.

This issue really goes into some depth about how Avengers Island normally operates. There's guys doing landscaping. There's guys in a security room spotting Quasar arriving and making sure the system confirms his arrival via retina pattern and fingerprints. Then they watch him as he makes his way through the Mansion towards the communication room.

When he gets there Peggy Carter tells him that she's getting reports from all over that superheroes are getting attacked by people they've never faced before.

She won't call it a plot without more evidence but she definitely is thinking the word plot very loudly.

Elsewhere, a mysterious (Loki) man in a suit sits on a throne flanked by two fancy braziers (it's Loki) spying on the Avengers' communication room with magical scrying (Acts of Vengeance plays this up as a mystery but it's Loki, you know it, I know it, and he knows it).

Definitely Loki meets with a mysterious green cloaked figure (Dr Doom, obviously) and ... Shredder from Ninja Turtles? Or maybe the Mandarin? And there's a lot of Everything Transpires How We Planned and yeah we're definitely all going to try to betray each other between them.

Definitely Doom says that he's set in motion his part of the plan.

Anyway, Peggy Carter just finishes telling Quasar that she hasn't been able to contact any of the other Avengers when Avengers Island starts to shake.

Peggy checks on the security monitor and OH NO

Dozens of robots are smashing holes in the flotation cushions that keep the not-an-island Avengers Island floating!

Since it's just Quasar and the support crew (despite the lying cover featuring Thor, Namor, She-Hulk, Sersi, and Captain America! That's a lot of lying, even by cover standards!), it's an all hands situation.

The non-superpowered people all grab laser rifles from gun lockers, Fabian gets into his latest battlesuit, and Quasar flies out and starts blasting robots.

I'm of two minds here, re: the Acts of Vengeance conceit.

The Avengers have fought Doom before. He's not showing up personally, just sending some robots. But I think it counts. So Doom attacking the Avengers with robots isn't a match-up they haven't had before.

But most of the actual Avengers are off busy somewhere. I don't think Quasar has fought Doom. So Quasar and the Avengers Support Crew versus some Doom robots that aren't Doombots is a novel match-up.

The support crew and Quasar blast the bots to pieces but the disembodied limbs keep attacking.

Rocket punch!

That ol' Doom sure knows how to build a robot.

Even as the support crew and Quasar blast bots, more continue to punch holes in Avengers Island.

MEANWHILE, SPACE.

Which is a thing you have to say when reading comics.

Starfox sneaks aboard Nebula's spaceship to find out what his supposed grandniece is up to. He pleasure zonks a guard unconscious and steals his environment suit so he can be INCOGNITO.

He finds his way to the bridge where Nebula and her Rigellian minion Gunthar are looking over the tablets they recovered from Omicron Seti, which hold in their ancient carvings A SECRET THAT DETERMINES THE FATE OF THE UNIVERSE. A secret that will make her scarier than Thanos.

But she'll need Paul Harker, that random old man scientist the book has kept cutting to. The one who blew up his own basement with his new invention? That guy.

The one subplot the Avengers book has been dutifully building up.

Back at Avengers Island, the support crew is getting overwhelmed. Even Stankiewicz in his battlesuit.

BUT DAMMIT THEY WON'T GIVE UP. THEY HAVE TO PROVE THEY'RE WORTHY OF CAP'S TRUST!

Wow. Cap picked well. These guys really want to live up to what he saw in them.

Quasar sees some of the robots messing with the big Quinjet fuel storage tanks but he's able to chase them away pretty easily. Too pretty easily...

But he literally doesn't have time to worry about that.

He sends Peggy Carter to go back to the communications room and try again to contact the Avengers. Despite Peggy telling him the emergency signal has been going since the attack started.

Peggy worries that the Avengers are already dead, since she wasn't able to raise them before the attack. But she's not going to think about it!

The robots retreat but the island is already sinking.

Quasar doesn't know whether this is a trick or not but he decides to use the breathing room anyway.

He orders an evacuation and orders the support crew to try to prepare as many of the Quinjets for launch as they can reasonably save.

Then he dives into the water to check to see if Hydrobase Avengers Island can be saved.

And. No.

No, it can't.

Every one of the flotation cylinders has been ruptured and has taken on water. There's just not enough time to patch all the holes before the island completely sinks.

Quasar does create a giant brace with his green lantern-ish powers to stabilize the island.

I wonder why he doesn't make a jack to lift it completely out of the water. He's thrown an entire Terminus into space once.

For that matter, weren't giant spikes put into Avengers Island to keep it in one place? Where are those and wouldn't they help keep the island afloat?

I guess that got lost in the shuffle.

O'Brien rushes into the mansion (where the flooding is ruining all of Tony Stark's art and rugs) to look for Peggy Carter. Who you may recall was sent back into the Mansion to try to contact the Avengers despite an automated distress call going out.

Way to manufacture drama, Quasar.

Peggy insists at staying at her post, continuing to try to contact help. Like she thinks she's on the Titanic or something. But O'Brien lies and says that the Avengers are here so c'mon lets hustle.

Then the secret bomb that the robots secretly left at the fuel tanks unsecretly explodes.

Knocking Quasar for a loop and rendering his plan to stabilize the island moot.

There's just no chance of saving the island now.

But Quasar does pop out of the water to save O'Brien and Peggy and carry them to the Quinjet Jarvis is piloting.

Hi, Jarvis!

Jarvis: "I only wish we had never removed our headquarters from New York City. Then, perhaps... nothing like this... could ever have happened. The proud history of Avengers Mansion would not have ended like this..."

Jarvis, I love ya, but shut up. You sound like you're speaking from the editorial, not from the heart.

Don't forget that y'all moved to the island in the first place because the Masters of Evil basically gutted Avengers Mansion. You might as well say 'I only wish we'd moved out to sea earlier so nothing like this could ever have happened' about that.

And like I said at the beginning of this post, Avengers Island was not a mistake. It was a new direction for the book that never got a chance to shine before someone lost their nerve and forced a change back to status quo.

Because, yes, before too long, Avengers Mansion will be rebuilt back in Manhattan.

And I like Avengers Mansion. Honestly, it's my favorite HQ for the team. But I wish this era wasn't characterized with timid backtracking.

Aside from that, this is a cool issue. Seeing the civilian support staff and Quasar have to defend the base while the Avengers are absent is pretty interesting.

I disagree with the sinking of Avengers Island but it does give Acts of Vengeance some impact. Although it can't compare to the last big HQ wrecking, Avengers Under Siege.

Anyway. Quasar says he gets the feeling this whole thing isn't over. And he's right. There's two more Acts of Vengeance in Avengers and three in Avengers West Coast.

Four in Avengers Spotlight but I don't read that. It says Avengers on it but it's like Two-in-One or Marvel Team-Up but with Hawkeye.

Follow @essential-avengers. Like and reblog. Shout to the wind. Howl like nobody's watching.

[sp00pygal]

Never bring an alien and an astronomy nerd to a ghost fight

Prologue :

It was 9 am in Gotham time when Wonder Woman contacted the watch tower. A very weary looking Batman picked up her call with a grunt.

"What."

"Bruce, it's Diana. Clark and I teamed up to fight Lex Luthor and Circe on paradise island. We won the battle, but Luthor, he... He used red kryptonite on Clark. I was barely able to hold him back this time before he flew off, and he is no longer on the island." Wonder Woman reported, looking very concerned.

Batman narrowed his eyes. "If you can't find him, what makes you think I can?"

The Amazon princess had to hold back a scoff. "Bruce...the league already knows about your satellite network."

Batman raised an eyebrow. "I assume Green Lantern told?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. So you have his location?" Diana replied

"I already started tracking him 5 minutes before you called. I've narrowed it down to north America."

"Come on `world's greatest detective', we both know Clark better than that. Where would he go?"

"I already checked Metropolis. The results just came back, he's not in Smallville either. But he is near the west coast. According to the computer he's in..." Batman froze, and his blood turned to ice, he whispered an almost imperceptibly quiet "No, it can't be...."

Diana folded her arms. "Bruce, where is he. This is not the time to withhold information."

Batman quickly regained composure "Diana, do not Persue. Tell the rest of the league to be on standby. Contact justice league dark, have them ready to step in on my say. We have a code white."

"but that could only mean... Great Hera, Superman is in Colorado?!!!" The Amazon exclaimed, her stance becoming tense.

"Yes. Amity Park, to be precise. One of ithe most powerful heros on the planet is in a town overrun by hostiles with unknown extra dimensional powers and mind control capabilities. Nobody moves in unless I say so." Batman responded in an eerily calm tone, but Wonder woman could tell by the look in his eyes that something was bothering him.

"He's going to be alright Bruce. the kryptonite will wear off in 11 more hours, and then we will all grab a meal together and laugh." She paused. "Well, Clark and I will laugh. You will probably do that thing that almost resembles a smile with your face."

Batman sighed. "Thanks; but it's not Clark I'm worried about. We both know he's overcome this before. He'll find his way out like he always does." He paused and reluctantly admitted "it's.... My new ward. He lives there."

Diana looked puzzled. "A new Robin? Or maybe a Batgirl this time?"

"No, not.... Exactly. He's... Complicated. I can only hope he's ready to handle this. " Batman admitted, sounding hesitant.

"Bruce, if he's anything like your other children, he'll be fine. They were trained to be strong, brave warriors by the best. Just let him know to stay safe, the league will handle this. "

A message pinged on the watchtower computer and after quickly reading it, Batman sighed. "... Apparently, there's no need. He has this under control. I'll meet him for extraction in 11 hours. I'm telling everyone to stand down. Batman out."

And with that, he hung up, leaving the Amazon princess confused and curious on the other end of the line.

....

Chapter 1:

Sam Manson and Tucker Foley stared at 'Superman' with twin looks of shock. Finally, Tucker spoke. "Do you think.... He's alright in there?"

"He's done this before so he's going to be okay. I've been with him on an overshadowing trip, and we came out alright, remember?" Sam replied, sounding more like she wanted to convince herself than Tucker.

"I mean, yeah, but those were different circumstances. Who even knows what Superman is? And Danny has already been in him for -" Tucker checked his PDA " 17 minutes and 42 seconds. I'm telling you, we should get him outta there. Or at least, figure a way to get him outta the public."

Sam shook her head. "Don't you think Superman was acting freaky? His eyes were red, but on the news, they're always blue."

"And you'd know, with how bad you crush on him, even though he's old enough to be -" Tucker was abruptly cut off by Sam's withering glare.

"I do not have a crush. Aliens are passe. Sure I used to like them, but ghosts are where it's at. Like cellphones." She retorted, and quickly added "anyway, if Superman has some weird mind control thing going on like with ghost freak, it's probably safer to let Danny stay in there instead of using the Fenton ghost catcher, especially after what happened last time."

"True, but we definitely should at least get him down. He's starting to attract pigeons." Tucker pointed up at the man of steel, frozen in mid flight and true to the techno geek's observation; several birds were beginning to land on his shoulders.

Sam nodded. "I agree there. Got the Fenton ghost fisher?"

Tucker pulled out a fishing pole with luminescent fishing line attached. "By now you even have to ask?"

"You forgot the thermos last week Foley, a boyscout you are not. Now give it here, I have an idea."

Reluctantly Tucker handed the Fenton ghost fisher to Sam. "What are you gonna do? Even if you would get a sweet fishing story, I don't think that the hook is gonna do much. Superman is supposed to be invincible,same for his clothes."

"Which is why I'm trying something else. Now hush, I need to focus so I can get this right...." Sam muttered, untieing the line from the hook, then fashioning it into a makeshift lasso. "Alright, should be good, the knots are always the tricky part. How's your aim?"

"Good enough, why?" Tucker asked, before Sam quickly handed him the newly fashioned Fenton ghost lasso.

"Because mine sucks. Has ever since girl scouts. Don't. Ask. You take that to your grave." She gave Tucker a scowl to let him know she meant business.

"Okay, touchey subject, gotcha. Question. How tall is Superman?" Tucker asked, holding his thumb in front of him to measure distance while doing some mental mathematics.

"6'3. Most people think it's 6'4, but actually that's just his hair being extra curly." Sam responded without missing a breath.

"uh huh. Totally didn't have a crush." He smirked and held up a finger to stop Sam's indignant retort. "alright, accounting for local wind density, height off the ground, and the hope that this stunt doesn't get us both half killed by a pissed off Superman...." Tucker threw the lasso at the man of steel, caught his foot on the first try, and pulled the line tight so it wrapped around his ankle. "Boom! Tucker Foley sinks the shot, and the crowd goes wild!"

"Uh huh. Sure. I don't think basketball metaphors apply to lassos Tuck. Now help me pull him out of here." Sam replied dryly

"Hey! What makes you think I can't handle him myself?" Tucker said indignantly

"Because the sum total of all the muscles in your body are in your thumbs from gaming. You forget, I helped you pass PE."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "Whatever dudette. All I'm sayin is he's not that heavy. It's like how Danny weighs nothing when he flies, gotta be some sort of mollecular minipulation or a psionic feild or something."

Sam took a moment to think it over. "Hey, yeah, you're right. Come to think of it, even with both of us, shouldn't he be pretty heavy? I wonder if he's catatonic. Maybe when Danny overshadowed him, Superman's body went into this state as a subconscious defense mechanism..." She caught Tucker's smirk "oh, wipe that look away, it's impossible to hang around Danny without getting a psychology lecture from his sister. She's almost as obsessed as his parents. Anyway, some of it is surprisingly helpful, once you get past the boring stuff."

Tucker nodded, wearing a poker face that didn't really hide his continued amusement very well. "If you say so. Question is, if Danny's stuck that way, how do we get him out? Jazz ever say anything about waking up someone catatonic?"

Sam frowned. "Maybe? I zoned out at that part, I think it had to do with giving the person a shock."

"Sounds simple enough. Alright Supes, wake up!" Tucker yelled, and then tried to slap him, quickly recoiling in pain on impact with the man of steel "Ow! What the- oh, right, invulnerability. Guess the news articles weren't kidding. Did it do anything?"

Sam looked at Superman and shook her head. "Nope, still outta it. Pretty sure unless you got a weird glowing green rock, anything short of a mountain collapsing on him isn't going to register. And, no, before you ask Tucker, I'm not going to have my parents buy a mountain to collapse on him so you can sell tickets."

"Aw man, you never let us have any fun. So how do we shock him then?" Tucker asked

"maybe it's like curing the hiccups? We could surprise him somehow? Hold his nose and have him drink a glass of water?" Sam shook her head "No... That won't work. Which means..." She trailed off.

"Uh oh. No. Nu uh. I know that look Samantha Manson, and it usually winds up with someone in the hospital, jail, or half dead. Not happening!" Tucker protested at the sight of an all too familiar gleam in the goth's eyes.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Got any better ideas?"

Tucker was silent for a long moment. "....Dammit. Okay, fine, but the moment this involves a hospital or cops I'm out. I'm not even kidding."

"Relax. I have a plan, and it's 100% fool proof." Sam reassured him.

"I was afraid you'd say that. What we gotta do?" Tucker asked.

"Just take Danny/Superman and meet me outside the mattress factory in 20. I have to go get ready. Oh, and keep the birds away from him. And no selling photos to strangers." Sam told her friend with a smile as she slipped into a nearby alley,headed for the old factory.

"Sam, that makes no sense." Tucker called after her and was met with silence as she had quickly dissapeared into the shadows. "ugh, hate when she does that, right big guy?" He looked nervously up at Superman. "Whatever, what would you know? Alright, can't keep you all frozen forever, Danny is probably getting freaked out in there... Weird psychology mumbo jumbo or not, I still think it wasn't a good idea to go in alone. We talked about this man, we're a team. Sam and I don't have powers, but we can still kick ass! Just... For real, Don't keep us sidelined anymore, okay dude? Especially Sam. You both are my best friends, and I don't want to see you getting hurt." As ever, Superman remained unmoving and catatonic, showing no sign he or Danny had heard a word Tucker said as he dragged Superman's body alongside him like a balloon on a glowing string. Tucker sighed. "I hear you my dude. Good talk."

....

End of chapter 1

@impyssadobsessions so, I took your suggestion and decided to write the Superman/DP possession crossover! It turned out that once I got started, there was a lot of content I wanted to include, so this is part 1/? Instead of just a oneshot, but for my general sanity I'm going to try to keep it short! Hope everyone enjoys!

[bluebeetle]

Concept i have for if i were to be writing a vol 3 of RHATO:

Opens in media res of Jason fighting someone and eventually ending up hanging off of the Hollywood sign by a chain or something (maybe his chain scythes from Future State?).

Whys he in LA? Well...

Cut to a quick rundown of his backstory, his time as robin, death, and résurrection. This exists for new readers but also re-establish Sheila as part of DITF and a mention of Jason closeness to Talia. Also would reference the being robin gives me magic line aand how being robin was the worst and best thing to ever happen to Jason.

Next, open to Gotham. Quick set up for something Jason is trying to do, doesnt rly matter much as itll be resolved by the end of the first 2 issues. Either through them being involved already or because Jason needed back up, Rose and Artemis get to help out.

Over the course of whatevers going on, Jason has to realise he still has a lot of parental issues and that he and bruce are struggling to connect because they want things to be as they were before, to have their old father or son back, but that cant ever happen. That jason in some ways loves and hates bruce, that it feels like hes not the only one that "came back" wrong, but he cant bring himself to abandon his family or gotham. He loves Gotham despite everything and wants it to be better, to stop it from destroying itself

Rose however points out he has left Gotham before, so why not a vacation? After all, whatever theyre working on points to LA as bring a place they need to go... So lets go to the west coast!

From there they run back into whoever theyre fighting, have a tussle, catch back up to Jason as hes hanging while Rose tries to pull him back up. The villains get away. The sun is setting but its a nice view.

Hey Rose, Jason says

Yeah? Rose replies

Remember when someone made this sign say Hollyweed? That was great, Jason says

Youre hopeless, Rose replies but shes smiling

Anyways Rose lets Jay fall but Artemis catches him. This was planned. They did not tell Jason. His arm is injured.

Later on they meet up with Kyle Rayner, who noticed the trouble they were causing, and Eddie Bloomberg (Who jason nervously seeks out) but only Eddie joins the team maybe? If it doesnt stay as a trio. Or Artie has to leave bc insert WW plot here.

Theyd go back to Gotham after a bit tho dont worry but get to enjoy vacationing in Cali for a bit and stop some evil plot.

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ prompt: “i thought you were dead? for years, i thought you were dead! and i hate that i still love you and never moved on!” 

♡ pairing: tim drake (red robin) x fem! reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “you’re riding high in April, shot down in May but I know I’m going to change that tune when I’m back on top in June. I said that’s life and as funny as that may seem, some people get their kicks stomping on a dream.”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / please check the pinned tweet please! since i’m very low on inspiration.

Tim Drake stared at you, mouth wide open, not knowing what to say or do. he felt like he saw a ghost. you were standing across the room, talking amongst others as they instantly crowded around you. everyone had thought the same thing Tim did and only a selective few knew about your whereabouts. 

you were giving Dick a hug, whispering in his ear about how much you missed him as Damian stood there dumbfounded. Jason was not in the room or else you knew that he would be giving you an earful about the entire situation. Jason always did think of you as a sister when you first started dating Tim. 

“what the fuck happened to you?” Damian screamed, finally coming into the realization of the situation, “you were dead! we saw you die! all of us did!” he continued. you bent down, giving him a hug as he didn’t bother to try and deny it. 

“it’s a long story. i was under secrecy for a long time and couldn’t tell or say anything without me getting caught,” you told him. you looked to Dick who still couldn’t believe what was going on, “it must’ve been a monumental mission if you were technically dead for three years and I couldn’t know about it,” he replied. 

you nodded, whispering to him that you’d tell them the details later, “is...he around?” you asked, referencing Tim. Dick moved a bit to the left, revealing the man you were still madly in love with. you felt yourself gulp, scared on his reaction, “oh god, I never realized how bad this is,” Dick whispered to himself, sensing the tension immediately. 

+

you swinging around the Batcave, Batman clearly annoyed with your antics as you finally plopped down next to him, “aww c’mon Bruce! live a little! this Batcave is so depressing and need I say, dark?” you said, hearing the door jingle open. 

“great, the boys are here,” he murmured, realizing that introductions had to happen between you and his sons. Bruce had taken you in a few months ago, under the guise that you needed a better mentor, “you haven’t met them, right?” he asked. 

you shook your head no, “course I haven’t! it’s my first week in Gotham!” you exclaimed happily. you did hero work out of the west coast and happened to finally land in Gotham for the first time ever, “although I did run into Damian earlier in the week so I think he’ll recognize me!” 

Tim and Dick were the ones who walked in, conversing about some Gotham football game. you smiled at the two boys as they stopped dead in their tracks, “uh....Bruce, who is this?” Dick asked, pointing at you. you stood up, shaking their hands, “I’m ( your name )! Bruce’s new apprentice!” you explained. 

the two sighed, Dick’s first thought being if Alfred knew about you. Tim on the other hand didn’t exactly respond as quick. you were oddly excitable, not exactly the personality that ran rampant across the ‘family’, “apprentice or daughter?” Dick asked, a bit playfully. 

“she’s an apprentice. no need to adopt someone who’s already an adult,” he replied as he stood up himself, “she came from the west coast so she doesn’t exactly know her way around here. it’d be helpful if one of you showed her around. I don’t trust Jason or Damian enough,” he said, walking to another one of the computers. 

“Stephanie isn’t around?” Damian asked, walking inside of the cave, “she’s already acquainted with her and she isn’t available to do it right now so it’s up to Dick or you Tim,” Bruce repeated. Dick looked to his brother with his eyebrow lifted up, “well?” he asked Tim. 

the two of them went to look at you who was already not paying attention to what was going on. you were nose deep into a computer with music blaring inside of your headphones, “I swear that girl has ADHD or something,” Damian murmured to his brothers, “but I think Drake should do it! you just love getting to know people, don’t you?” Damian pressured. 

Bruce nodded in agreement, “it’s settled, you’re showing her around!” Tim stared at Damian, ready to attack the gremlin with his bare hands, “appreciate it Tim!” you yelled from your seat, surprising the three who thought you couldn’t hear what they were saying. 

+

it was already a few months into your internship with the Batfamily. you had gotten closer with Jason, Stephanie, and because of your relationship with Dick, you befriended Starfire as well. even though your work was constantly surrounding you around Tim, you weren’t around him much unless it had to do with work. 

“where you heading off too?” Jason asked, seeing you all dressed up, “Star, Barbara, and Steph wanted to go out for the night since we aren’t on duty so we’re going to get drinks up the street,” you told him. he nodded, looking to Tim and seeing the way he was checking you out, “why do you go with them, Tim?” he asked. 

Tim looked at Jason with a bewildered expression, “why would I be the only guy in the group?” he asked sarcastically. you on the other hand jumped up in joy, “you should!” you exclaimed, “come on! it would be amazing! you know you want too!” you poked Tim’s side in anticipation. 

he sighed, slipping a bit on the couch, “fine,” he muttered, making you excited all over again. you gave him a few minutes to get himself together, “you know he likes you, right?” Jason told you. you laughed out of genuine shock, “who? Tim? yeah right!” you let out another laugh, not believing he was lying to your face, “fine, don’t believe me but it’s pretty obvious.” 

you couldn’t say much else as Tim walked out, hair restyled and threw on a different jacket, “ready?” he asked, hands deep in his pockets. you nodded, throwing Jason a scrap piece of paper before heading out the door as Dick walked inside, “meeting the girls?” he asked. 

“yeah and I’m taking your brother as a hostage,” Dick was surprised, “did you finally?” he started to ask before Tim screamed at him to shut up, “how about we leave,” Tim told you, discreetly hitting Dick on the back of his leg as retaliation. 

the two of you walked out as you told Tim that the place you usually went out with the girls was in walking distance, “I think they’re going to be surprised you even decided to leave your apartment,” you joked as he rolled his eyes playfully, “I don’t think they’ll mind. at least Stephanie can stop saying that I never go out,” he said. 

you laughed softly, “yeah you might be going out with a bunch of girls but it sure beats being stuck inside playing video games or doing work,” you replied, “yeah, guess your right,” you two walked inside of the restaurant, already seeing Steph, Starfire, and Barbara sitting at the usual table. 

the three girls had their mouth hanging as they saw you walking in with Tim, “he actually came out?” Barbara screamed, not believing Tim was actually out, “yeah, figured it was better than staying in for the night!” you said excitedly. 

“I couldn’t even get him to come out with me at times and I dated him,” Steph murmured under her breath to Star. she laughed as you pulled chairs for you and Tim, “I’m getting first round of shots!” you told the group excitedly. Star and Barbara had followed you to the bar, leaving Steph and Tim in a small awkward silence 

“you like her don’t you?” she asked. Tim nodded, figuring it was better to just tell the truth than to lie, “that’s cute! she’s a great girl. I’m happy you finally found someone else but I will say one thing, I think you better get a move on with your feels with her because I know a few others who have an interest in her and one might be on your team,” she said, not so subtly hinting at Connor. 

Tim was taken back by what Stephanie was telling her but remained silent, “and I think she’d say yes on Connor so you better be quick,” she laughed, seeing Tim’s slightly jealous eyes. you returned to the table, giving everyone their glass as you raised yours in the air, “to Tim! for actually leaving his house for once!” you screamed as they all raised their glass and took the shot down.

throughout the night, Tim saw the way you were singing and dancing with Steph and Star, your terrible drunk singing voice getting louder as they played ‘poker face’ by lady gaga towards the end of the night. 

+

you stared at Riddler, seeing that he was ready to attack Tim with full intentions to kill him. you debated for a moment, saving a few civilians from getting mildly hurt or seeing your boyfriend get killed? you chose the latter and ran to Tim who was not paying attention in the slightest at what Riddler was doing. 

“Red!” you screamed, your feet moving as fast as they could and pushing him out of the way. you felt the slice of the knife into your stomach as you had successfully pushed Tim to safety, “fuck,” you whispered, seeing the blood already pooling underneath you. 

although you getting hurt was already pre-planned, you had no intentions of getting hurt this badly, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” you continued, trying to grab your cape to stop the bleeding, Tim stared down at you, seeing the blood gushing at a rate too dangerous for his liking, “hold on, please hold on!” he screamed, moving you out of harms way. 

Bruce had saw you giving him the signal, weakly but you still gave it to him. it was your only chance for your pre-planned mission to actually succeed and the start of that plan was to make you die in front of everyone. Bruce had swung down from the stairs, seeing the way your eyes closed. 

“she needs to go to the hospital,” he told Tim, making him rush you to the hospital himself. he knew this was the only time he would be able to say his goodbyes to you and he need to make it count, “go now!” he yelled. 

Tim dragged your almost lifeless body to the nearest hospital, screaming at the staff that you needed help immediately. the nurses grabbed your body, hauling it to the OR as Tim sat there, blood all over his uniform as he watched you get wheeled into the hallway. 

it felt like hours by the time they gave an update to all of them. Bruce, Tim, Dick, Jason, Steph, Barbara, and Damian, were sitting in the waiting area, munching on food nervously as the nurse came out of the hallway, eyes bleary with tears. 

“she didn’t make it out of surgery. she passed.” 

all of them (for the exception of Bruce), immediately bursted into tears. Tim more than anyone had fell to the ground, having no control of his body as he screamed that it couldn’t be true and that you weren’t actually gone. a part of Bruce’s heart broke seeing his son having a mental breakdown but he knew for their safety and yours, he couldn’t say a word. 

the following days were left to plan your funeral as the nurses who relied your wishes stated that you wanted a closed casket for no one, not even Tim, to see your dead body. Tim hadn’t spoken a word to anyone as he only spoke up when it came for him to plan your arrangements. 

they buried your casket with your uniform laying on top of it as they all saw your casket get lower and lower to the ground. Tim was by this point sobbing as he couldn’t have cared who saw and who didn’t. 

+

Dick grabbed Damian, moving themselves to another part of the room as you walked slowly to Tim. he had yet to say anything but as soon as you locked eyes with him, you both let out sobs to each other. Tim grabbed you by the arms, bringing you into a hug as he sobbed into your shoulders. 

“what the fuck is going on?” he yelled, not knowing what to say, “I’m alive Timmy. I didn’t die that night,” you practically sobbed back to him. he released you, now anger and sadness crossing over him, “what the fuck do you mean you didn’t die?” he screamed, scaring Dick and Damian in the process. 

you sat on the ground, trying to compose yourself, “I went on an undercover mission for league. I had to die in order to protect not only myself but all of you and the entire league. which explains why I look different,” you murmured the last part. 

“I thought you were dead. for years, I thought you were dead! and I hate that I still love you and never moved on!” he exclaimed, seeing the way you stared at him heartbrokenly, “you think I wanted this to happen? it was for the betterment of the league if I took on this mission. I never wanted to leave you or Steph, hell I didn’t want to leave any of you but I had too! it broke my heart knowing what I had to do!” you yelled back. 

Tim bent down, taking you into his arms, “what the hell are we going to do?” he whispered in your ear, not knowing how to respond to any of this rationally. you shrugged as the two of you tried to calm yourselves down from the hysterics you both were throwing, “I just need you here with me,” you whispered back. 

Tim nodded, not releasing you from the hug you were giving him. “I won’t. I won’t let you go! not anymore!” he replied. you laughed through your tears as you heard someone else walk into the room. 

“what the fuck.....” you heard Steph and Jason’s voice scream through the Batcave, “what the FUCK is going on?” they screamed in panic. 

hehehe a cliffhanger 

[whalehouse1]

Relating to your post about Damian, Jon and Tai pham. How do you see them actually meeting?

So the biggest problem with this is I have a different ideas and it depends on how things work overall since we have so little of Tai's world to work with. First the only other human Green Lantern we see in this continuity from the regular stuff is John Stewart. Do any of the other ones exist in this universe? If it's just John does that affect the Justice League at all in terms of it existing or just members? Also complicating matters is I'm not sure where location-wise Coast City is, so is Gotham close to it? Is Metropolis? Or if they're still in Smallville the distance there? If the Justice League is still around, John would likely take Tai there to visit and Superman would want to introduce Jon to another hero (in-training) around his own age. Damian would end up being forced along in some way due to being friends with Jon and just by chance meeting up at League HQ. Also we've seen in the Super Sons that both of them have teleporters to get to their underwater lair and Damian would most likely know how to add another destination point.

But if the Justice League doesn't exist in this timeline, it would surprisingly be a little more convoluted but still plausible. If John is the only Green Lantern on Earth besides Tai, if he is off world, he would most likely ask Superman or Batman to watch over Coastal City. Tai would be going to fight the threat and run into either Superman and Jon or Batman and Damian and be pouty that John didn't trust him. He would probably vent about it to Jon or Damian and if it's Damian he would agree with Tai while still insulting Tai because it's Damian, but Tai would argue back, so I think they wouldn't start off as great friends until they figure out how the other one is. If it was Jon he talks to, it'd be easier but Jon would defend the heroes and say they must have their reasons. Tai would tease him for being a goody goody but easily win him over with some pho when they finish off the threat. They would get along much better. After this meetup, Tai would ask Jon if he could train or go on missions with those two and would go every know and then. Jon would say he would like to go on missions with Tai more and Damian would say nothing, it's Damian and a Bat Lantern team up, everyone knows asking Bruce to team up with a Green Lantern will earn you bathroom duty for a month, but if Jon insisted he join, he doesn't have much choice now does he? Also if Tai does badly, Damian would have to help train him to do better in fights and not just blast things with the ring. Damian being a martial arts trainer to his friends is just funny to me.

And although not part of the question, the reason it's all guys is mainly due to me thinking Ma'ri and Lian are like 3-5 when Damian is starting as Robin. I also just recently found out who I thought was an older version of Lian is actually Oliver Queen's half-sister and Connor's aunt. But if I'm being honest, she would have to be closer to Tim's and Steph's age without making it super creepy and even with that it's still creepy. But heck Wallace West is probably closer to Young Justice agewise as well, but no, they have Impulse and why do ages in DC revolve around the Batfam and if not them the Superfam? I know it doesn't matter but when you go from Dick and Kara going on missions together to Kara and Steph being college buddies or Kyle being friends with Jimmy Olsen but then being around Donna's age or that hot mess that is Babs's age (I know, I know but I want my mid-30's Babs ex-representative who is pro-libraries and just...playing Arkham where she is married to Tim just put the nail in the deaging Babs coffin for me) But Babs and Jon are the two who the age thing bothers me way more than it should...okay maybe not Jon's cause just screw aging him up for every reason Bendis did it for, I want to see this awkward all American boy flail around with everything. And one other thing that bothered me about Tai's story and it isn't just due to that, does DC know how to make a character seem interesting or cool without the, "They were the strongest/coolest/greatest/awesomest ever at their job"? It's how they pumped up Hal in Kyle's run and Tai's grandma amongst the Green Lanterns (I did not mind it with the neighborhood saying it since it reminded me of how people used to talk about my grandma and I always love seeing good grandkid and grandparent relationships) and heck how they're promoting Tim's run as the Greatest Robin (I'm not getting into the discourse). When you do this you alienate fans of other characters hard. I like Tim, I like Tai's grandma, I LOVE Hal (well Silver Age Hal because I'm a terrible sadist and him getting wiped out by the stupidest crap keeps making me chuckle if not laugh) but I enjoy all the Robins for different reasons (Dick is admittedly my favorite but I won't read his solos since I never hear anything good about them past a certain point), I don't have a favorite Green Lantern since I'm still newer to them and Kyle's run keeps trying to make you jump between issues and forcing him and Donna and it's not fun to go through since I do like him, just not the stories, but when I get a chance to read Jessica's stories I think she has a good shot of being my favorite. That got away from me, but the point is no one wants to hear who editors or writers or higher ups think is the greatest, it has the same energy as the guy who tweeted that Maxwell Lord has always been evil and if you didn't realize it you were a moron, which is not a fun energy to have. I think I'm going to stop here because I don't think I'll stop talking otherwise, sorry about that.

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - BLUE

From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

WORDS: 7785 WARNINGS: Sexual Content

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

Dick:

It was concerning how at the moment he stepped into the narrow elevator, he wasn’t the least bit surprised at the pile of animal shit at the corner. It wasn’t until the doors closed when he noticed it, or rather his nose did, and he had to clog his nostrils just so he doesn’t pass out on the floor.

“Gar!?” he yelled just as the doors opened. No one was there, save for Raven with a book sitting at the couch. She didn’t glance at him. “Gar, I swear if you took a shit in the elevato-“

“That wasn’t me!”

Gar’s voice came from the kitchen, panting and occupied with something unruly. Then he heard plates falling to the floor, breaking, then there was a whimper. Not one that came from a human.

“Then who was it!?”

His question was soon answered, when a dog, a brown-furred mutt, sprinted out into the living room with a strip of bacon lodged in its teeth. “Gar!”

“I told you!”

Gar came out of the kitchen with a leash that had been ripped. “It wasn’t me!”

“You brought a dog into the tower?!”

“It was hungry!”

The mutt had finished off the bacon and headed straight for Raven’s lap. She gave it a scratch under its ear.

“Not on the couch,” Dick said.

“But Dick-“

“You’re not allowed on the couch either,” he told Gar. The boy murmured something Dick couldn’t hear, and after a second, no longer was he a boy but a green parrot. It squealed against Dick’s ear before it flew to Raven’s book.

“Jesus-“ he rubbed his ear. “I’m not in the mood.”

“SQUAWK-,” the parrot said. “WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?”

Having some coherent answer to that would only cement it as some grueling reminder. Hell, even thinking about it hurts more than the coward’s way out of pretending the past year never even happened. But then again, here he was, back in the Titan’s Tower to escape from the love of his life he could never be with and force himself into this infernal damnation of having forever to get over her. Here. Thousands of miles away. Where he’d only have his thoughts to battle and nothing else.

But all he said was: “Nothing.”

Dick should have told her, at least. Given her that kind of closure instead of his current disappearing act without so much as a note or a text or even a notice memo at the manor’s announcement board, which Alfred insisted with there being eight kids around.

But being away will be good. For her. For him. The first step to moving on. And with that, cutting all ties. Make it hurt less for both of them.

Maybe not all ties. He’ll have to go back to Gotham soon enough. But at least he was trying something. Not like the past five, six, seven years. God, has it really been that long?

She was probably over at Tim’s office, or Jason’s apartment doing whatever. Thinking about it won't do him any good. Doesn’t mean he subconsciously won’t.

It was apparent, and out into full consciousness, when he pulled out his phone and saw her name in five missed calls, with voice messages she’s left behind. A whole lot of minutes of them, too, it seems. She’d called while he was on the plane.

He could listen to them. Hear her voice one last time. Let his mind trail away. God, he was pathetic.

Dick put it up to his ear, his other hand stuffed to his pockets as he went out to the tower’s highest balcony so at least the air wasn’t so stuffy and he wouldn’t choke so much.

He wasn’t even nervous when he heard her speak. “Hey, Dick.”

A plane. A helicopter. Some folks over at the apartment building nearby partying it out. At least he’d have something to look at. He was exhausted, too. It was eight am over at Gotham. Shouldn’t have taken the overnight flight.

“You weren’t at the manor. I tried calling there first. I wanted to see you. Call me when you get this?”

He might. After he listens to the four other messages she’d left behind.

“Hey. I know it’s only been an hour. But please call me.”

Another one.

“Dick, where are you? I hope you didn’t change your phone. or I’ll look stupid leaving all these messages behind, which I’m not about to stop doing. Call me. Please. No one knows where you are but no one’s panicking either. It’s worrying me.”

Next one. From another hour after. He’d been gone a little over ten hours since he left. If Bruce didn’t have a tracker on him, they’d have called the police by now. But he highly doubted Bruce would take the time to announce his little trip to the West Coast to everyone in the house.

“Dick, if this is you ignoring me, you’re doing a hell of a good job at it. Did I do something?”

He heard her huff over the phone. No one else seemed to be around her.

“Please, I just wanna talk. Call me.”

The last one. Sent just four hours ago, which meant she’d been awake at four in the morning.

And, on top of that, the last one was five whole minutes long.

A call to tell her she was dating Tim again? Explaining how there are no hard feelings? Catch a movie sometime? An ass of him to think she’d be that cruel, but he was jetlagged and exhausted and the smell of dog shit still hadn’t left, which could be explained because that mutt had made a home just a few feet away from where he stood.

Dick played the message despite all that. Even if she called to tell him she’s getting married. He’d answer it.

“Dick…”

He could hear the rain, sheets shuffling under her feet.

“I’m sorry…” she said. “I… I probably took too long… I guess, if you’re ignoring me, you still deserve to know. I hope you get this message. I’ll tell you now, I guess. So you won't have to respond if you don’t want to.”

Tears. He could hear her wipe them off her skin.

“I kept you waiting for… I wanna say months but it’s a lot longer than that. Years… God, and I didn’t even see it… I took too long trying to figure this all out for myself, and you just kept waiting for me. No one should be worth waiting for that long.”

He was laughing as if it were one of her god-awful jokes. Funnily enough, it was worth it. Even when it sent him nowhere in the end. All that waiting was worth it. Somehow.

“Which is why I don’t blame you. Because you shouldn’t have taken this long. I thought even if I took another few weeks before I’d have enough courage to finally ask you to be mine, you’d still be there waiting for me. Selfish as it is, but I guess that’s your fault, too. Spoiling me and whatnot. Now my expectations for men are out of hand. Sorry.”

She even fucking laughed all the while he could hear her biting back her sobs. If he were there, he’d hold her by the shoulders and squeeze the fucking sense back into her and tell her yes, I did wait for you, and I’d wait for you for a hundred more years if I had to but I know you love someone else and-

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Backtrack.

What the hell did she just say!?

“I mean, I’m…” she continued, completely ignoring his panic. Was there a rewind on this thing??? “The past two days all I did was read your letter. Over and over again, trying to find something I could have missed. I memorized it by now. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry. I know it’s all so complicated, but I can't stop thinking that if the timing had just been good to us the past few years, all this would have been so different.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, is she actually saying she-

“I’m so sorry, Dick…” she sighed. “I kept you waiting. But even if… even if you’re not anymore, I already made up my mind. I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love yo-“

Something hit the back of his knees.

Which, unfortunately, with him not in some defensive stance, caught him in a rather vulnerable position.

And with that, Dick tumbled off his feet, almost fell off the railing, and failed to catch his phone from slipping right off his hands.

“NO!”

“DOWN BOY-SQUAWK!” Gar the parrot cried and followed the obnoxiously unruly dog running around the terrace. “SORRY, DICK!”

The dog kept running around and almost crashed to his feet twice with it being too fast even for Gar's supposedly swift wings, and if he wasn’t so frozen and horrified, watching his phone descend from almost a hundred stories above ground, he would have grabbed that mutt by the neck.

“GAR, I SWEAR TO GOD-“

“I’m sorry!” He turned back into a human and caught the dog. “It was him!”

“My fucking phone just fell over the railing!”

“Want me to go get it-“

A car alarm. He could hear it even from above. Or Gar did. Because he went to look over and caught sight of his phone breaking a car’s windshield below. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“I have to…” Dick pulled on his scalp. “I have to go call her.”

“Call who?!”

“Give me your phone!”

“I don’t have a phone!”

“Give me Raven’s phone!”

“She talks to people with her mind,” Gar twirled his finger against his temple. “She doesn’t need a phone!”

“Just get- UGH!”

He stormed back into the building. “Where the hell is everyone else!?”

“They’re all out of town!”

“So it’s just you and Raven in here?! Without adult supervision!?”

“Why do you think we got a dog into the building?!”

Said dog stuck his tongue out at him like it was just so awfully adorable.

“Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok.” He can do this. He can calm down. “I have to go back. Or call her at least.”

“You’re going back to Gotham now?!”

She said she’ll wait. But to hell with keeping her waiting. “Yes. I do. I’m going back now. As soon as I can call her and tell her I’m on my way-“

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Raven didn’t even look up from her book, legs up on the couch as seemingly relaxed as if the whole wreck of a home they lived in wasn’t a mess at all.

“Next flight to Gotham’s in an hour.” She levitated an apple to her mouth and took a bite. “And the one after that’s in two days.”

“Two days!?”

“Airline shutdown. Some strike is happening,” she pointed at the TV playing the news. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“God fucking dammit-“

“Good luck.” Raven took another bite.

Of course. Of course, this would fucking happen.

But, fuck, he didn’t know if he should just leap out the window to keep up now that everything he’s ever wished for had finally come to be. Because, to his own beliefs up in the clouds, he could probably fly with just the flap of his measly arms.

Y/N chose him.

He left for the elevator, just before Gar stopped him for leaving his wallet, then he was sprinting his way back to the airport.

.

You:

“I already made up my mind,” you said to your phone as if there were anyone else on the other line. As if he was there, listening to you. And that in a few seconds, he’d respond.

“I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love you, Dick.”

Quite haunting how easy it was for those words to just roll off your lips, because as much as you thought all this to be so complicated and difficult, it was the easiest thing you’ve ever had to say.

At four am, alone in your studio with all your lights off and your sheets in an unkempt mess. You stuck your knees so close to your chest, trying to conceal at least some kind of warmth against you. But even with it so easy, it didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting.

“I can't,” you stuck your palm to your forehead. “I know things are so hard between us… and this past year is just…”

You breathed, longer than you’d hoped, just to get enough air into your lungs just so you wouldn’t collapse.

“God, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore. It all just… It feels like it’s too late. Everything went so wrong between us and I can't stop but think maybe it’s the world saying we’re just not meant to be,” you swallowed. “And the scary thing is… I don’t even care.”

The blue rose you painted, staring back at you once so bright, but as the passing days of you still wondering if were brave enough to do this at all, it had dried up and was now blank, patronizing even, that maybe it just wasn’t right, even when you wanted it to be.

“I don’t care if it’s so complicated, I want you…”

On the bed, just by your feet, you locked your eyes onto Dick’s beautiful handwriting, some that had been smudged with the sweat from your hands with the paper now crumpled up after all those months of reading and rereading.

You closed your eyes.

“You sent me an awfully painful, heart-breaking letter,” you said. “This is my awfully painful, heart-breaking reply.”

.

‘I usually just say all this in my head. That’s when I get poetic. Sometimes I write it down. Most of the time, I try to paint them. I think of galaxies and meadows and skies and flowers and all that, metaphors as they are, but I’ll say everything I’ve got. Right now. Because you deserve to know that all those years of you thinking nothing could ever go how you wanted, that it could end being just that.

.

Dick:

“Hey.”

Hands on the counter, the attendant looked startled at the least.

“I need a ticket for the next flight to Gotham.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, after taking a while to look at Dick’s handsome yet frantically uneasy face. “You just missed it-“

“I know, I know, I missed the last one.” The one that left just five minutes ago because of fucking California traffic. “But I need to get on the next one. Please.”

“All flights from San Francisco after the next hour are canceled I’m afraid.”

“Any connecting flights? Anything that leaves before that?”

“Sir, I-” she stretched her fingers. “I’ll look for something.”

His fingers, tapping onto the counter until the tip of his nails started to hurt.

“The best option’s a connecting flight to Denver, then to New York.”

“New York!?”

“Then there’s the railway transits to Gotham. I can book you a ticket for that, too.”

From a seven-hour flight to a seventeen-hour trip with layovers and a crowded train.

But as soon as he heard best option he pulled out his wallet quicker than when they told him his rent was three months overdue and that if he weren’t to pay the doorman that very instant they’d evict him.

He rushed to the first plane, closed his eyes, and prayed she hadn’t said anything in her voice message too important for him to miss out on.

.

‘The universe, or whatever it is out there that has a say in all this, they didn’t make it easy for us at all. If they did, we would have met long before we went too far into this mess. We were friends, sure, and you have no idea how much I value our friendship.

But I guess not even that friendship’s strong enough for us to deny what’s really going on. And that’s why it’s all so hard. I can't even look at you without thinking about kissing you, or holding you, or touching you. I can't hold your hand without wanting to never pull away. I can't even be in the same room with you and not stare, even when you’re just reading a book or talking to someone else. You are… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re just as beautiful within, which is why it was so easy to love you, and so hard to keep it in.’

.

You:

Morning. Eleven am at that. You slept before the sun was up, at least. But you were up all night.

Nothing. Not a call, not even a text from him.

Everything shattered, and you were still half asleep. The next thing you did, and the next thing to do, was wrap yourself up with the thickest layer of your blanket and hide in the dark, even with it such a lovely day.

Another message wouldn’t be such a good idea if he still hadn’t opened the last five, which seemed highly unlikely with him gone for almost a day now.

A day. It had been a day.

But nothing on GCPD’s notices reported a missing person’s file of an utterly gorgeous, half-Romani hunk of a man in any of their websites. You called the manor, again. Still, there was nothing.

Twelve at noon. All you had for lunch was a bagel from three nights ago. It stuffed you, at least.

You sat at your dining table and stared at your phone.

If there was a moment for so much love to come crashing at once, it would all have been too great for that to be possible.

But the moment you realized it was there at all,

A few weeks ago. Steph’s birthday.

A party at the manor. It wasn’t much. Just a little get together with everyone at the parlor.

Everyone was talking, laughing, and frankly you wished you’d joined them. It looked like fun.

But instead, you were looking out the window, at the gardens white with melted snow and winds strong enough to knock the leaves out the branches. But you couldn’t hear any of that, which made it peaceful. It was the trees that danced, birds instead of planes that hovered over the sky, not a star above but perhaps it was because it was so full of clouds. It looked cold. Cold always looked so beautiful when you were looking out from the warmth of the inside.

Dick walked up to your side, just a reasonable distance away so he wouldn’t touch your shoulder, but close enough that you’d smell the jasmine from his neck.

“You’re just gonna stand out here and watch the glass fog up?”

You remembered laughing, probably at something else he’d said after that.

“It’s pretty when you look hard enough.”

And all the while, he didn’t pull your arm and drag you over at the crowd. He didn’t tell you to join them, to loosen up and have fun or have a drink or in any way stop you from what you were doing.

He just stood there and joined you, instead. Ditched his family. Didn’t even speak much.

He stood there because he wanted to. Because you staring out the window was more interesting to him than a whole crowd of kids doing whatever.

When he balled up his fist, covered it with his sleeve, and wiped the window right in front of you to rid it from the fog so you could see the gardens clearer, you knew you loved him.

Such a small act that was, but it was the finality of everything else that built up to that moment.

Then, you remembered what you told him last night, in a voice message that lasted way too long and sounded far too painful.

.

‘I don’t regret what I had with Tim… but I do regret not saying anything the past four years when I had the chance. You were there. You were there and I could never have had it any other way. When we’re not trying so hard for everything to be alright, everything’s at its best. I’m not even your girlfriend, and already I think about every minute I spend with you and laugh before I’m off to bed. I think about your jokes way too long than they should ever last. And your smile, god your smile, saying that that it’s all I could ever think about wouldn’t do it any justice. You have drawn out the ugliest laugh out of me that never should have come out of any human in existence. And frankly, I’m glad you do. Because just when I thought I could never smile again, you made me the happiest I could ever be.’

.

Dick:

Of all days. Of all times.

His survival rate at that point, rushing through Denver Airport with just a fifteen-minute layover period, with his shoelaces undone, probably wasn’t one he should have relied on. He was starving, but he had the appetite of a mammal in hibernation with the horrible airplane food costing a hundred dollars and everything else taking too long to prepare.

With just thirty seconds to spare, he fell to his too-narrow coach seat, shuffled along so his large ass-damn this cursed asset-would fit through the aisle and breathed just as the air hissed into the cabin after they closed the service door.

Head against the back of the seat, eyes up the ceiling, at the smoke that blew in through that gap outside the overhead locker, he ignored his dried skin, his dry mouth, his feet that were close to standing on a thousand knife tips, his eyes so close to just shutting out, his wallet painfully thin with this whole trip costing the equivalent of a round trip to Shanghai, and his whole body about to collapse. He hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours. It didn’t look like he was ever going to sleep at all.

And he hasn’t even called. God, what was she doing at home? Is she okay? Is she eating okay? Is she worried about him, staring at her phone wondering what she did wrong when she was nothing less of a perfect creation of all the gods that existed, an angel the earth didn’t deserve?

He really, really had to call.

Someone just sat next to him. A child. And next to him was his mother, who just put down her phone from a call.

“Excuse me.” Dick put on his award-winning smile, pretended he wasn’t sweating his balls off or that he was in any way close to psychological death, and hoped he looked the part as well.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I, uh, borrow your phone? I have to make a call. It’s sort of an emergency.”

“The plane’s about to take off.”

“It won't take long. I promise.”

He probably didn’t look as charming as he’d hoped. His hair was a mess not even a bird would settle into. The woman looked at him quizzically, up and down, and shrugged. Like it was handed to him on a silver plater, she gave him her phone.

The aircraft was about to take off. He only had so long.

He called Y/N’s number that he didn’t even know he memorized and settled back. It started ringing.

“MOM!”

The kid beside him. He was tugging on his mother’s shirt.

“MOM, I’M BORED.”

“We’re in a plane,-“

“I’M BORED. I WANNA PLAY ROBLOX-“

“Not now, we’re in a plane. Sit down.”

“GIVE ME YOUR PHONE-“

“That man has my phone.”

Fuck.

Y/N, fucking pick up.

“HEY, GIVE ME MY MOM’S PHONE BACK-“

“Kid, I hear ya. But you have to give me this one-“

“GIVE ME THE PHONE-“

That kid, a chubby one not older than six, stood up from his chair and was wild enough to grab Dick’s hand away from holding the phone up his ear. If he weren’t so desperate, he would have let him have it.

But god almighty, he’s never been as desperate as a starving man in a desert.

“Kid. Just one minute.”

“NO, GIVE ME!”

The mother put on a sleeping mask and faced the other way.

“KID-“

“GIVE ME MY PHONE-“

Back and forth, both grabbing onto the phone and the kid having the strength he did not at all expect, they ended up wrestling it out in the cramped-up economy seats until the kid was screaming out his ears.

He’s never looked so ridiculous but jokes on everyone else if they thought he could care less.

“Excuse me.”

An attendant, bags under her eyes and giving both of them, not just the kid, a dirty look.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the other passengers have complained about the noise. I’m gonna have to ask you to take your seat.”

“NO!” the kid screamed.

“DID YOU JUST BITE ME!?” Dick cried out.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”

“I NEED TO CALL SOMEONE!”

Dick grabbed the phone off his hands, palm to the kid’s face to stop him from reaching out to his outstretched arm. “Don’t you have some kind of coloring book you can give him?”

The attendant smiled, albeit forcefully, and walked back over to the back of the cabin. The kid did not stop trying to grab it off Dick’s arm.

She gave the kid a bag that probably had books and crayons and whatever stuffed inside. It looked so old. It had to have been in storage for the past ten years.

But as if some miracle heard him, the kid shut up, took the bag, and settled on his seat. Then he was as quiet as a mouse.

Fucking finally.

He held the phone up his ear and closed his eyes, fingers easing the tension on the nerve on his forehead.

“And sir?”

The attendant smiled at him. It didn’t look so much of a smile as it was a death threat.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to turn off your mobile device.”

To say he wanted to squeeze the life out of everyone in the whole aircraft, including himself, wouldn’t cut it.

And he didn’t even have it in him to protest.

“Hello?”

Her voice. At the other end of the line. That word was all there is to it, the only thing he heard.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes, counted to three, then ended the call after just two seconds.

The next thing he heard, for the next three hours, would be the screams of the child at his side, kicking on his seat like a fucking soccer ball.

.

‘That call from a year ago. The one about Kori. Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin. I overreacted. By a mile. Did some stupid shit to make up for that guilt and masked it over as another heartbreak when really, it was me refusing to have to go through all that again. I had to see you with that woman when I was in love with you for three years. Of course, it hurt. But I shouldn’t have an excuse. It was so stupid. Just thinking about it makes me want to break. I’m so sorry about that, Dick. I know we’ve already been over that months ago, but I just want to clear everything while I still can. God, I don’t even know if you’d listen to all this. I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I put all the blame on you when I had my share of mistakes. A whole lot of them. I’m sorry. I love you. And I’m sorry.’

.

You:

Hung up after two seconds. All you heard on the other end of the line was breathing and huffing, and nothing else. Whoever it was, they’ve been calling the past two minutes, just as you stepped out of the shower. And you almost cracked a rib flying from your bathroom to your kitchen table with just a towel around you, hoping to see his name on the screen. But alas, your luck just wasn’t at its peak.

You put your phone down, still with nothing to do, nothing else you could think of doing, than to just wait on that seat, stare at your phone, and hope Dick hadn’t hurt himself going after some goon alone the night before. Still no missing persons report. Nothing from the rest of the team, either.

Maybe just once more. You could call him. It wouldn’t annoy him too much. It had been hours since the last one.

You called, put the phone up your ear.

No ringing. It went straight to voice mail.

You opened your mouth, thinking you had something to say.

But you didn’t have anything to say. Not anymore. Not after you poured your whole heart out on the last one and now your throat was as dry as your palms were sweating.

You put your phone down, facing away from you, then you sank to your arms, burying your crumbling face away even with no one to see you.

.

‘That’s why I hate myself for not caring if this was difficult. Because I know, somehow, that’s it’s all still gonna be worth it. With you. Just thinking about the things we’d do, you’ve been the light of my life, the one person I look for not just because I need it, but because being with you makes so much of my day, every day that I see you. I look for you in crowds. I turn to your face when I want to look at something pleasant. I stare at doors, constantly hoping you’d be the one to walk in. I seek out for your voice, call you even when I know it’s a bother, find the most ridiculous excuses and the most stupid questions just so I’d have a reason to stand close to you, to have you talking to me, wanting all that everyday. I’ve never met anyone like you, Dick. I’ll never get used to you, and there’s no way in hell that I’d ever get tired of you. And maybe that’s the price to pay with all this being so hard. As complicated as it is, the troubles aren’t half the worth of the happiness it comes with.’

.

Two flights, three within the past thirty hours, jet-lagged far beyond a night’s repair, and his stomach in so many knots that even the bag of peanuts from the plane was too much to digest. And it wasn’t from poisoning or hunger or whatever it was. Everything in a whirlwind, one he can't even track.

He got to New York before it was dark, and he wanted to kiss the floor.

But he wasn’t at Gotham yet. This trip wasn’t over.

And if it weren’t for the half a million people crowded over at the airport, he would have been in Gotham right at that second.

Past the crowd, fumbling and running for whatever life he had left that wasn’t a spirit descended into something infinitely better than this, he made it over to the other side of the terminal, with his pits sweating his shirt off and his legs made of cooked chicken drumsticks and dough.

He got to the railway station, over at the attendant behind the counter.

“Excuse me,” he panted, and just like the one at the San Francisco airport, it startled her. Except now, there was no using his charm or his looks when he looked like he crawled out of a swamp.

“To Gotham,” he said.

“Ticket?”

He reached for his wallet, hands shaking so horribly it was worrying if he hadn’t known it came with his mind being as much of a mess as a wrecked ship from the 1800s.

And all the more did they tremble, down to his sorry knees, when he opened every flap there was on his wallet to find every pocket empty.

No.

No. no. no. no. no.

He searched his pockets. His jacket. His pants. His fucking shoes. If he had a hat he’d probably look into that too.

Nothing. Not a stub. A tiny stub that would have easily been blown by so much as a gust from a fan, let alone running a marathon in three airports in a single day.

“I,” he swallowed. “I seemed to have lost my ticket.”

Yeah. He wasn’t getting out of this one. The attendant looked at him and snarled like the annoyance he was.

“All the trains are sold out. And I’m afraid you can't board the train without a ticket.”

“Ma’am, I really, really, have to get to Gotham-“

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to step out of the line.”

Like every force in the universe was out to get him.

“Do you have a phone? A payphone at least? I really need to call someone-“

“Sir, please step out of the line.”

“Please, ma’am, there has to be some way you can squeeze me into one of those trains-“

The attendant waved at someone behind him.

Two security guards were at his side before he could even turn around.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” he huffed. “You guys don’t happen to have a phone I could use?”

Both guards ignored him, set him aside against a pillar.

And, with the excruciating exhaustion finally crashing into this one blow to the face, he stuck his back against the column, head up to the ceiling, then fell on his ass.

God, what does he even say to her after this?

If he actually gets to talk to her, that is.

“Final call for boarding!”

That light. One, single light. Or two, if he focused his eyes. The headlights from outside the revolving doors, from a bus that just opened its doors. It was a light, because it had GOTHAM in bold letters pasted onto its windshield.

And a line of people stepping inside. Kids and adults, old people alike.

He sat up from the floor, hungry, tired, and in pain.

But this was all going to be worth it. Every minute of this.

He just knew, that one last push, after this tormenting, inferno of a day, would all come to an end he’d dreamed about since he first laid eyes on her that day at the Wayne Manor’s library.

Dick got in line outside the bus, told the conductor he’d pay when they get inside. And after he did, he had just a quarter in his wallet to spare. No one sat beside him. The others were at the back. The one across was fast asleep. He couldn’t call her.

He’ll just have to hope, that whatever worries she had waiting for him to come up, that she’d forgive him enough for all this to end the way he hoped it would.

Three hours on a bus.

Didn’t even sound like it was remotely a long time.

The moment he took his seat, the bus doors hissed closed, and the air so silent, so did everything else calm.

He’s waited so long.

But he just had to wait for another three hours. In a bus. Then he’ll see her.

He closed his eyes.

.

‘I don’t even know why I rambled so much about all this being so complicated.

Because even if I had to walk up to the sky, I know there’s a galaxy waiting for me at the end. You are worth it. You are worth everything. I’ve never been so obsessed with anyone my whole life. You are, with my whole heart, my greatest love. And you are so beautiful that I never want to look at anything else ever again. And I never thought I’d get know beauty the way I do when I talk to you. You are everything I could ever want. And so much more.

And that pain, that hurt we both had to go through after all those years. That pining and waiting, and the heartbreak just because I was too stupid to understand that it didn’t have to be so hard after all, it doesn’t even matter, when at the end, I get to be with you.

I’d go through all that again if it means I can be with you.

You are the man I’ve dreamt about since I could first dream, and I’m lucky enough to have you in my reality. It’s you I want, Dick.

So I’ll wait for you. As long as I have to.

I love you so much.

Please, for the love of God, call me.’

.

You:

That message.

The longer you stared at your phone, the more you wondered if it was the right thing to do at all.

It was four am. You were tired. And worried.

And it was four am now, a whole day after.

Not a single call.

You’ve done it this time. You tripped at the finish line.

You were selfish enough to keep that man waiting for so long hoping he’d keep going, just as he had been for years.

And now, this is what you get.

You have yourself alone, in your apartment, one you haven’t cleaned in a week, and your heart in the same shatters as it often had been.

Your phone rang. You weren’t so excited to pick it up. Rightfully so when you saw it was just Bruce.

“Hello?” you said, your weight against the table’s surface, also surprised that it hadn’t broken.

“Y/N,” Bruce said. “I heard you were looking for Dick.”

“Mhm?”

“Sorry I haven’t called. Anyways, the last location I can point him to was at the Titans Tower in San Francisco.”

Okay.

You’ve had your heart broken before.

But it wasn’t just that that had broken right then.

Everything else, every bone, every bit of flesh there was, it was this numbing buzz you couldn’t even fight.

“What?”

Just then, someone knocked on your door.

And it wasn’t just a knock. They were pounding against the wood.

The ringing in your ears hadn’t even subsided, and you were breathless, muscles stiff. You just let the pounding go on until you heard Bruce hang up on the other line.

Life didn’t even give you so much as a second to process all that, of what he could be doing there, who he was with.

Your walked to the door, and without looking into the eyehole, you unlatched the lock and opened it.

Some glitch there was if all this were nothing but a simulation.

But it was as if the last five minutes-no-the last two days hadn’t happened at all.

Dick never looked like such a mess.

But, nonetheless, the way you stared at him was as if he was as beautiful as he ever was.

Everything that had broken, the moment you looked into his eyes, had fallen right back into place, into an entity far stronger than any quake could knock it out of.

Dick shut the door behind him.

He grabbed your face.

Then he kissed you. Without words. Without letting so much as a speck of time, however it worked now that it’d stopped, pass and waste away.

.

Dick:

Whatever she told him in that message he never got to hear, everything she ever had to say, the instant he felt her kiss him back, it was like every word flew out of her lips. How she wanted him. How she chose him. How in love she was with the mess of a human being he could be. How all the trials they’d been forced to go through, all the misunderstandings and the fights and the long months of this troubling, awkward place they wanted nothing more than to climb out of. He got all that with the way her lips molded so wanting and harsh, pressed so hard against his dried, chapped pair that have never witnessed anything more beautiful and so awfully perfect.

No more time to be wasted.

Not another second.

He had her. He finally had her.

He got the girl.

Not a chance that he wasted so much as another second.

He pushed her against the wall and the gasp that came out of her wasn’t at all out of pain, but at the sheer desire that had sparked at such impact that only knocked her into the same place he’d long settled in. And he could just feel, how much she wanted so badly to speak, to tell him what was raging in her head that was as much of a mess as his. But they’ll talk. Eventually. After.

All he wanted, right then, was to have her. Love her. Love her. To send her off to some paradise that long surpassed oceans and mirages and heavens that stood on clouds, to culminate that seemingly endless torture into a reward so great, that to say it would have been worth it would be so much an understatement. To play every instrument there was and let the song resonate into her body, and make it last for the rest of his life for so long as he could touch her. All that, he was going to give her tonight. Tonight. Right then and there.

Grabbing her legs up to his hips, her hands pinned to the wall above her head, it was too much of a flash for him to rush into this beautiful thing that shouldn’t be rushed at all. But he couldn’t slow down if it meant that he lives. Even if he died right after, he just couldn’t hold back.

He was pushing himself into her and the sounds that he earned out his lips were more than any songbird could cry out. After just having her against that wall, he finally got the sense to take it to the bed. It was dark. Not a light was on. And it was raining outside the one window she had near the bed and just the streetlight outside was enough to make him see her face. Dick placed her on top of his lap, on which she enjoyed herself to her own pace. Her hips were like waves, the ocean that rocked about, and the stain on his pants that she’d left behind was just as wet as so.

At that moment even she didn’t want to wait and talk any longer.

He took off her clothes, lied back.

Then he hoisted her up so the sweetest part of her body was just hovering over his mouth, her strong, beautiful legs, one of skin and the other of metal, on either sides of his head.

.

You:

You were made of gemstones. You were shimmering.

Of diamonds and rubies and emeralds, of the most precious rocks that could be found on every soil on earth.

Everything. That pain. That darkness. All the troubles and hardships, the disputes and every tear you’ve ever had to shed. Gone. Gone when he drew out this wonderful melody of sensations from his sweet, sweet tongue quivering you to every core. You were rocking, shaking, trembling, barely keeping yourself up. Not long after you screamed, and like the skies heard you it screamed back with a thunderous roar.

Then Dick shed his own clothes and moved inside you, rolling your hips with your two bodies now this one, beautiful entity, like you were holding his hand, just as you did right then, as you both ran through the darkness of a cave that has long haunted you, with creatures and bats and ghosts flying about, just to reach the end that was a light so close and so bright, you chased yourselves, chased that very light.

And once you reached it, that blinding, flashing white light that shone with this painful, glorious sting to every bit of your flesh, to say you found that end would be wrong. It wasn’t an end. It was this continuous, tantalizing aroma that would last a lifetime. It was beauty. You felt beauty. And it was in ripples you couldn’t see. A blur you couldn’t comprehend.

You had so much to tell him and ask him about.

But just as that wonderful night showed you, you had the rest of your life to do just that.

.

Epilogue

Dick:

Life could only ever be so cruel.

But life gives its niceties. Sometimes, to the people so used to it that they take it for granted.

But it’s even more so of a nicety when it’s the people who’ve long deserved it.

Not to say he deserved the world, but it was just that he’d gotten. From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

Watching her from his car’s driver seat, from where he had a perfect view of her looking at the wondrous scenes flash by outside the window. It was even more beautiful, more than ever before, now that he could take just a second off his time from the steering wheel just to kiss her.

Just a little over six months together. Never has there been anything so rewarding in his life. A rainbow, ten of them at least, that filled what was once this depressingly grey sky. He always knew it’d be worth the world. But even he surprised himself.

When they parked the car, got out into this wide, orange field, a farmland just outside of Jersey with a valley at the farthest end, the only thing that battled the brightness of her smile was the sun itself.

“It’s beautiful, Dick.”

Her voice, even more so.

He set up her canvas, all her paint, and her brushes. They found a spot on the grass that was clean enough for them both to sit on. She didn’t use her easel. Instead, they both laid on this plaid red and white sheet over the grassy soil, her using her own knees to hold it up. And Dick sat beside her, watching her as the hours ticked. Without looking away, no longer ashamed when she’d catch him.

Just before the last of the sun had set, he pulled out from his pocket a ring, one with a diamond a shape of a white rose on top.

He got it a week after they got together.

Her face, her lips wide open as she realized what came in front of her, then he asked her to be his. Forever.

She said yes, just as the sun fell.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

@idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @lucy-roo,  @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc​, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, @pinkforest05

[daringyounggrayson]

I’m sure you all ready have a ton but 59 with Bruce and Dick?

59: “Do you ever regret it?” 

AO3

As much as Dick wants to idealize the early days, when he really thinks about it, he and Bruce have always had their problems. They’ve had shouting matches and misunderstandings and disappointments since Dick’s first year at the manor. Nothing has ever been perfect, not even close. So why is he so surprised that things have gotten worse? He shouldn’t be surprised that the distance has grown. He shouldn’t be surprised that their silences have become loud and thick and uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be surprised that he wants to leave.

“I’m almost eighteen,” Dick says. They had a stake-out tonight, and aside from a few necessary sentences regarding the case, the two hadn’t said a single word to each other. 

Bruce makes a sharp left. “You’re sixteen.”

There’s a pause.

“I got my SAT scores back today.” Dick had been waiting for Bruce to ask him about it—the man had known he’d gotten them, after all; Bruce had sifted through the mail before leaving for work—and when he hadn’t, Dick decided to keep quiet about the whole thing. He’d decided that he would apply to the farthest college from here and leave without ever telling Bruce a single thing. He’d live a whole life without Bruce and he’d be happy. 

Except, that’s not what he wants. He wants Bruce to ask him about his SAT scores. He wants Bruce to care. 

“And?” Bruce asks.

“2200." Then, knowing Bruce will ask, he adds, "That's in the 98th percentile.”

“That’s great. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Yeah.” A pause. “I could go pretty much anywhere I want.” Especially with Bruce’s name behind him, but Dick likes to know that he can stand on his own too.

“. . . Are there any schools you’re considering?”

Dick shrugs. “Maybe somewhere on the west coast.” 

Bruce doesn’t say anything. Dick’s telling him he’s going to run to the other side of the country and he has nothing to say about it, positive or negative. One of Dick’s friends wants to go to UCLA, and her parents are proud and happy to send her, but she also said they got all teary-eyed when they mentioned the distance. 

His parents would’ve done that, he’s sure. But with Bruce, Dick could leave the planet, the galaxy even, and he probably wouldn’t even notice until he tried to give Dick an order and didn’t get a response.

They pull into the cave and get out in silence. 

Soon Alfred appears with cookies. “To celebrate your SAT results, as well as the end of studying for and worrying over that dreadful exam.”

Dick smiles, accepting the plate of cookies and popping one in his mouth. “Thanks,” he says through a mouthful.

Alfred tsks at him and shakes his head, but then he sighs and places a hand on Dick’s head, smiling softly at him for a moment before going back to whatever he’d been doing before they arrived.

It’s clear that Alfred will miss Dick when he leaves, that he’ll care about the distance. It hurt Alfred the last time Dick left, it’s something that makes Dick hesitate to leave again, especially without a proper goodbye.

When Dick glances up to look for Bruce, he finds that he’s already at the computer, typing up a report. 

Dick walks over and sets down the plate of cookies on the desk, then leans against the chair. “Need help?”

Bruce pauses his typing, then continues. “If you want something to do, you can run inventory. Otherwise, get some sleep. You seemed slow tonight.”

Dick scowls, pushes off the chair. “We were on a stake-out all night. What? Should I have watched nothing happen faster?”

The typing stops. “I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever.”

The chair turns, and then Bruce is looking at him. “I’m glad you did well on the exam. I’m, I’m proud of you, Dick. I apologize if I didn’t make that clear earlier.”

Dick looks away and feels like California is far too close to Gotham. Maybe he should apply somewhere out of the country, maybe Australia. 

“Do you remember when I ran away? After Two-Face almost killed me.”

Bruce flinches, but Dick doesn’t feel bad about his word choice in the slightest.

“Yes.” 

“I wrote you a letter. Do you remember that?” They’d never talked about the letter and what was inside. When Dick came back, it was to reclaim Robin and nothing else. Bruce didn’t want him to come home to be a son, he wanted him to come back to the manor, the cave, to be a good soldier. And now that Dick is failing to do that, he isn’t needed. Isn’t wanted.

“I . . . Yes. Why are you bringing it up now?”

“You never looked for me.” He hadn’t been sure, not really, but Bruce doesn’t deny it. “If I hadn’t told you about Shrike, you never would’ve—” Dick stops himself. “Do you ever regret it? Not coming after me?”

“I thought you needed space. I thought you would come back.”

Dick curls his hands into tight fists. “I was gone for weeks! Commissioner Gordon was more concerned about where I was than you were!”

“Dick—”

“Two-Face nearly killed me”—Bruce flinches—“That must’ve been fresh in your mind, but you didn’t seem to care at all that something like that could’ve happened again. Easily.” At one point when he’d been away, three different people wanted Dick dead. And Bruce hadn’t cared. And Dick had been a kid, he’d just been a kid whose so-called guardian hadn’t bothered to look for him.

“I should’ve looked for you.” Bruce’s hands are on Dick’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. You were my child, and I should've done everything in my power to bring you home.”

Dick’s eyes are hot but he refuses to cry. Quietly he asks, “Do you ever regret it?” Dick isn’t sure if he’s asking about Bruce not chasing after him or Bruce letting Dick come home. Maybe neither, maybe both.

Bruce is looking him over carefully. He cups Dick’s cheeks with both of his hands. “I’ll never stop regretting all the ways I've failed you.”

Dick steps back, pulling himself out of Bruce’s hold. He sniffs, nods several times. He looks back at Bruce and realizes that if Dick left right now, Bruce wouldn’t come after him. Bruce might eventually regret that too, given enough time, but regret would only lead to brooding and brooding always seems to lead to distance.

“I’m tired.”

Dick leaves and Bruce says nothing. He doesn’t chase after Dick like Dick stupidly hopes he will; he just goes back to writing his stupid report.

Fifteen minutes later, Alfred appears in Dick’s room and sits next to him on the bed. They don’t talk much, but Alfred does tuck Dick’s head under his chin and rub his back until Dick’s half-asleep. It’s enough to keep Dick in the manor that night, but Dick’s not sure how much longer that will be the case.

[heartslogos]

the executive assistant to the batman [62]

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t even consider acting like I exist in the same room as you,” Tam says. “Of all the times for you to — seriously! Right before the big restructure of our west coast branch and redistribution of our logistics pipeline across the states?”

“Tam. I know you must be feeling very negatively right now. But it’s for the greater good. If I took real sick leave then the entire thing really will be fucked over. At least this way I have some sort of…sense of control about it. I’m not actually leaving. I’m still around. Sort of. But this way I won’t have to turn the front half of Wayne’s office into sick room. How unprofessional is that, Tam? I’ve worked too hard for this. Years of my life dedicated to turning my job into something people actually pay attention to.”

“Greater good my ass,” Tam glares at him. “Who gave you permission to get a collapsed lung? Work from home? You? Work from home? What about the rest of us who have to work here while you’re not physically present? You think we can stop the Waynes if they’re about to do something stupid? If you’re work from home they’ll act like normal. You should’ve just taken sick leave. If it’s sick leave then they’ll attempt to behave until you come back out of guilt or something.”

“Shouldn’t you be nicer to me?” Tim scowls. “I’m the one who has a collapsed lung and pneumonia.”

“Speaking of, how did you get both of those? Does the universe hate you that much? Who did you piss off? Aside from me and the rest of this company?”

“It’s not like I’m asking for it to happen! I’m not happy about this either. I’m the one who’s getting my home invaded by my job. At least you get to go home and put your phone on silent and pretend like you have a life outside of work. I’m being forced to bring my work home with me for a few weeks.” Tim directs his glare at the several boxes that some poor interns are currently packing up to be transported to his apartment.

Tim had to fight to be present for this. Thankfully someone had seen reason about the fact that Tim can’t work from home if he doesn’t have the proper materials.

It didn’t stop any of the extended Wayne family from fluttering in and out of the room like anxious bats and birds.

The only reason they’re not here right now is because Tim said he was hungry as loudly as possible, sending the assorted family members scattering to every region of Gotham to procure their own versions of what a sick and convalescing person should be eating.

Tim expects to be laden down too much take out for one person to reasonably consume in a week. He might even have a grocery delivery waiting for him at his apartment right now.

He shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, headache slowly creeping up at his temples and carving out a space for itself behind his eyes.

Tam’s expression softens, just a little. “You need to take better care of yourself before that family decides that they’ll do it for you. I don’t think you could survive the Wayne brand of tender loving care, Tim.”

“Let’s never find out,” Tim replies. “I am sorry, though. You know that, right? It shouldn’t roll down to you whenever I’m out but — well. You’re capable.”

Tam shakes her head, running a hand through her hair as she rolls her eyes towards the ceiling.

“The curses of being capable in Gotham. Suddenly everything’s your problem. How come these things never get down to Li?”

“Because Li would collapse the economy if anyone tried to make her take on more than she wants to.”

Tam rolls her eyes.

“Tam, I’m being serious.” Tim’s eyes flick towards the door. As though saying Li’s name could summon her from the austere and perfectly coordinated circus of a department she runs. Like the devil but also Clippy or an extremely judgmental Alexa.

“No, I know you are,” Tam says, “But it’s funny how you think she’d stop at collapsing the economy. Li could probably cripple governments through sheer force of disdain if she wanted to. Let’s never give her a reason or a chance to try. I don’t know where you find these people, Tim. I really don’t. Mandy’s shaping up to be a terror. I’m still trying to get her to consider applying for management positions.”

“Agreed. Mandy’s still in school though, isn’t she?”

“Didn’t stop you from shooting yourself to the top of the corporate ladder at the tender age of — what was it, sixteen?” Tam checks her phone. “Just got a text from MeiMei. She was on the second floor of the lobby and she saw one of your Wayne’s coming back with an entire armful of take out containers.”

“Was MeiMei kind enough to say which Wayne?”

“Nope. Says that their face was covered by the stack of take out and tall with black hair doesn’t rule anybody out. Especially after Damian’s growth spurt. Is that kid ever going to stop? You’ve had that kid re-fitted for suits five times this year.”

“Tell that to Damian.” Tim slowly pushes to his feet. “Alright. I think that’s everything I’ll need. Let’s get this loaded for transport. I do not want to be here with every single take out option in Gotham.”

Tim can picture it now. They’d probably try to make him pick one to eat then and there. God. And they’d probably consider it as some kind of strange contest to see which one of them he likes best. They’d hold it against him and sulk for weeks.

“I need to find a different job,” Tim groans as he and Tam quickly head towards the elevators, interns at their heels with dollies and carts loaded with banker’s boxes of documents and equipment. “Or I need to find some sucker to throw at them so they can get attached to and fight over them instead of me. Half the work of this job is appeasement.”

“The curse of being capable,” Tam repeats, “Should’ve played stupid like the rest of us. Too late now. You could fake having aphasia and they’d still go to you for everything.” Tam pauses. “Don’t try to fake an aphasia. They’d turn over the entire medical research department and create a whole new set of gone-bad doctors with with some sort of weird language theme. The Riddler might shit himself over the sudden brand incursion.”

“I don’t think the Riddler is that kind of doctor.”

“Oh, yeah, Tim? That’s the detail you want to nitpick? What kind of doctorate the Riddler may or may not have?”

[reidio-silence]

Knowing that the difference between profit and loss might well be a matter of whether or not they complied with the Navigation Acts, Beekman and his correspondents didn’t scruple at evasive measures—bribing customs collectors, doctoring ships’ manifests, circulating fraudulent bond certificates, and outright smuggling. After Parliament passed the Molasses Act in 1733, such conduct became almost a way of life. Planters on Guadeloupe, Martinique, and other islands of the French West Indies responded to the law by offering premium prices for North American provisions and asking less for sugar and molasses than did their British counterparts. When it became evident that customs officials were making only halfhearted attempts at enforcement, the profitability of illicit trade for North American merchants was assured. (It may have accounted for one-third of all northern commerce.) Beekman himself became so accustomed to smuggling that he would complain bitterly if circumstances compelled him to pay full duty on the rum and molasses he imported by way of Rhode Island.

What Beekman and men like him almost never did was invest their profits in plantations. Trade, not production, was the New Yorkers’ forte, and they tended to think of the West Indian plutocracy as wildly dissolute and irresponsible. Nor did more than a handful of them engage in direct trade with England. Local products alone couldn’t fetch high enough prices in the mother country to pay for imported manufactures. Also, because the prevailing winds blew out of the west, getting back to New York from, say, Bristol or Liverpool was a hazardous and time-consuming proposition. Ships outward bound from British ports usually took tropical routes to the New World, dropping down to Madeira to catch the Canaries Current, then winging across to the West Indies and working up the North American coast. Over time, improvements in ship rigging and design—the appearance of the gaff-rigged “schooner,” the development of jib and headsails, and the adoption of the helm wheel—gradually made it easier to sail in the teeth of the westerlies. Even then, however, the majority of New York merchants continued to concentrate on the West Indies and other North American colonies.

The net result was the economic triangulation of three strikingly different systems of production: the small-farm hinterlands of northern seaports, the slave-labor plantations of the Caribbean, and the wage-labor workshops of early industrial England. New York now lived by feeding the slaves who made the sugar that fed the workers who made the clothes and other finished wares that New Yorkers didn’t make for themselves. Along the way, they closed in on their old objective of breaking Boston’s grip on the economies of southern New England. Lying a week closer to Barbados and ten days closer to Jamaica, the city enjoyed a natural advantage over Boston in competition for the lucrative West Indian markets. Inexorably, pressed by Philadelphia’s domination of the mid-Atlantic region, New York merchants took control of the New England coasting trade.

— Edwin G. Burrows and Mike Wallace, Gotham: A History of New York City to 1898 (1998)

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

NSFW where a PI is investigating the titans and catches dick and reader having an argument which turns into rough passionate sex???

FIRST OF ALL I’M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. To compensate, I made it longer than I expected, almost as long as my longest one yet! I think I took some liberties with the ask, but I thought it would be interesting to make it this way?? THOUGHTS? It turned a bit mushy towards the end, sorry if you want something rougher. BUT ANYWAYS, CUE IN THE FIC.

SUMMARY: Reader is a “leader” and main representant of the Titans; she goes by the name Silver Blaze, and a PI, Randall, has been given the task of investigating her and Nightwing – possibly because they are the major representants of the group, but there might be ulterior motives within the investigation.

WORD COUNT: 4147

TW: Swearing and smut. There’s like a thousand something words of introduction and the rest is pure lemoney stuff, yep. I didn’t include any age for Randall, but it is understood everyone is legal of age and that he is a bit of a voyeur/creep. It is meant to be that way, it’s no accident. I hope it works???

I spy with my little eye — Dick Grayson x Reader

They had appeared out of nowhere, really. It was rumored that a similar place had happened before, in the times of Dr. Silas Stone, but with a few distinctions; the Titans tower was a secret, and it could be only speculated upon its exterior. The crime wave had exponentially lessened down since its appearance, but since it had been caught on camera, secrecy and conspiracy theories had arisen. It did count apparently with the permission of the city council; if there was a deal or not, no one knew anything about… Yet.

           PI Randall had been contacted anonymously; the money was incentive enough to make a man in California sweat, but the persons he had to look closer upon were his main drive. He had been investigating them for as long as they made their first appearance, and to say they had piqued his interest was to say the least. Fortunately (maybe not so much at nights, when the loneliness ate him alive and he starved for human contact), he lived alone, and thus only himself knew of his own madness and obsession towards the couple, Nightwing and Silver Blaze.

           The first was quite well-known, and some had been speculated, theories rounded the internet, on how he had been Batman’s disciple at some point and how he was to be the next in line; personally, Randall couldn’t believe it. Had it been that way, he would have stayed closer to Gotham, but he had gone all the way to San Francisco-what? Running away from something? Distancing himself from the infamous city, taking a paid leave? Randall quite knew that discovering his identity was a lost cause, as many journalists and tabloids were still obsessed with it. They were always too careful and secretive; they had been trained to be like that probably all of their lives. And if Nightwing was anything like Batman, which Randall had pondered over a lot of nights, there was no solid case that could ever be created on him.

           Silver Blaze on the other hand was a mystery. No one knew where she came from, where she had first appeared in or if she went with another name somewhere else. Rumors and stories had been built upon her first declarations on the San Francisco Chronicle (they were always the first to have her interviews, statements and photographs; surely that meant either she was in there working herself or she had an insider working for their publicity – it was always convenient to have the public on their side). People claimed to have heard of her on the west; others claimed to have first seen her in the North, the Canadian frontier, and that she had been moving towards the coast on unclear motives punishing anyone she had encounter – maybe she was heading to Gotham? But then why the detour, why had she been staying so long and as, apparently, a representant of the Titans? From what people knew, the images and videos taken, she did not possess any kind of powers other than her own body and the flashing of her own cape. That was her ability, blinding anyone who came close, distracting them and gaining over advantage towards their enemies. Silver Blaze had been the name the city had given to her: she always appeared after a blinding light, and in her ebony costume, the most striking thing was said cape and her mask, contrasting beautifully with her slightly darker skin.

           To say Randall had a bit of a crush on her was an understatement. She was in fit, and the armor did not hide a thing; skin-tight and glamorous with her gloves, her movements – she moved like Catwoman in a sense (was she a disciple? The inherent dark sexiness a common trait upon master and disciple?) but had a more definitive presence. Before it had been Nightwing the one making the announcements, statements – but maybe it was her sweet voice, her rosy lips, labored breath whenever she talked after a battle or after an incident that calmed somehow the citizens of California, that eventually came to love her. So what she hiding?, Randall wondered, night after night starting at the same pictures, side by side, of both leaders of the Titans side by side fighting. Who could want to unveil anything from the golden vigilantes of the city, seeing as they carried such an untarnished reputation? Randall couldn’t help but think that they were hiding something darker in plain sight. Something obscure, tarnished and possibly perverted. No one could be that perfect.

…

           “For fuck’s sake, Night, I had it! I fucking had it and you stole it from me!”

           “Can you please stop shouting? They are going to hear us, S.”

           “God, stop it with that nickname! It’s not cute and it’s definitively not my name!”

           It is pure coincidence, months of stalking them, following them and testing a theory. He shouldn’t be there, he shouldn’t be hearing them out that perfectly, clearly, at mere meters from them. Randall was supposed to be at home, fuming again over losing them; instead he has both of them right in front of him, slightly battered and definitively arguing. She doesn’t possess the sweet voice that she normally uses in interviews (he knew it! No one can be that naturally seductive, that sweet without actually trying), but Nightwing appears to be as collected as ever… Even when he can hint a sense of annoyance over the discussion. Maybe they’ve been at it more than once? It is definitively something that people haven’t cached up. Hell, he didn’t know a thing, and he’s been following them for years.

           “I had him, but you just had to go and disappear, leaving my flank completely unprotected, Night! That’s such a Dick movement!” Dick? He is confused. Did she mean-

           “Silver, don’t use names”. His voice is severe. He sounds like he is on alert. Maybe he has heard him breathing more than normal? Randall’s eyes are glued on her chest, heaving up quickly, up and down – probably still with adrenaline from the battle they’ve just ended. His theory had been that every time they had ended a battle, generally between the two of them or more, it really depends on the intensity of the fight, they disappeared somewhere else, running from the scene like thieves: last time he had tried west and he had felt stupid for thinking it could work. Now he had followed east and here they were, arguing while he was hiding near a bush with a small clearance.

           “… I was just saying you are a real dick, Night”. She says, following his tone; like in sync, she doesn’t question, but rather adopts the same measure until she realizes. “No! You are no getting out of this, Nightwing! This is the third time you leave me unprepared to protect myself against four guys! I cannot believe you, seriously, I-“

           “Oh please, we all know you could have blinded them and-“

           “To blind them I need both of my hands, dumbass! I barely have recovered from that night on-“

           “Still hurts?”

           “Yeah.”

           There’s concern and care in the next movements, in the last words; he gets closer to her, carefully grabbing her by her elbow, and pulling her closer. It is strange to see how easily she lets him, seeing as angry as she was; she just clicks her tongue, which makes him laugh for some reason. She mutters something under his breath, and Randall can quite only speculate on his next words, seeing as he just vocalizes them: “-amian”. ¿Amian? He has no idea on what he is trying or has said, but he definitively notes it down on his mental pad: and he has to update some things.

           He definitively didn’t expect for them to be so close, seeing as they have never appeared together in any interview or photograph; they had similar combat styles, and that’s why he imagined they wouldn’t share a team withing the combats, but from her complaints before, he can confirm that they do, and that she seems a bit pissed off at him for abandoning her. Again. Is it some tense rivalry that they have between them? Some brotherly bickering? Maybe they were past lovers? Nightwing has always occupied the most eligible bachelor of all Gotham, but since he had moved to California things hadn’t been the same. He hasn’t any more of presence than Silver Blaze has; maybe they have learnt to share a-? Oh.

           The realization, in the midst of the silence, it’s so severe that he forgets to breathe for a second. He looks at both figures, against the light of the moon, cut-out like perfect paper figures straight out of any Vogue magazine. But her stare is too humane when they make eye contact with his face; the domino mask actually prevents him from reading expressions, but he knows that one well from his own past. There is something else, maybe-maybe they are, or they have been-

           They kiss.

           He pulls her closer, still by the elbow, and her arms quickly go under his arms, to his back. His hands are on her waist, squeezing tight, as he makes all of her his in the kiss. There is an undeniable possessive nature in his embrace, and as he takes off her cape, with an ease that makes Randall think they have done this before – probably many many times after a battle. Is this it? Do they have sex whenever they finish, as hurt as they are or tired? Can’t they wait? His hands expertly manage to find the zipper at the top of her neck, slowly discovering her naked neck, back, until her waist.

           “I’m still angry, you know”

           “I can tell. And you think I’m not, having you insinuate that I’m a narcissistic traitor who would leave you alone midst of the battle if it was not important? You, of all people?”. There is something similar to hurt in his voice. He cares? “There’s only one narcissistic egomaniac in our family, and I know you know who is”.

           They are always careful; they don’t give out names, and Randall can’t figure out yet who is. Maybe a new Robin? But her eyes are more focused on her naked figure, her soft skin, slightly tainted, apparently, with some scars and red areas (bruised from battle, sex? Who knows): she is truly beautiful.

           “You mean the hot brooding one?”. There’s almost a teasing tone in her voice. He wonders if she’s like that in bed, the bratty adventurous type. The cock-teasing slut that opens her legs just to tempt, just so that she can after-

           “You did not call J-“

           “I just did, Golden Boy”.

           There’s movement. She falls to the grass, the small area they have secluded themselves in, with a bank not too far, and a small touristic viewpoint not too far from the city, overlooking most of it, if not all. There’s giggling, clothes rummaging and limbs moving until they give up. Someone gives up. He’s on top, half naked but mask still on: Randall doesn’t know if it was him or her that took her mask off, but he can finally see her shining eyes, daringly staring back at Nightwing’s. Her legs are around his waist.

           “What, too tired to fight me?”

           “Maybe I just don’t fear the punishment Daddy will give me. He’s always too soft”. And that goes straight to his dick. Is she the type to use that names on bed, secretly? Yes, he has pictured that. Naughty, daring, always too intelligent for her own good – sweet and caring, but with a small and horny devil inside. Always too wet at the most inappropriate times, like when he is supposed to be working. That’s always his go-to fantasy.

           “Maybe Daddy thought someone was starting to behave good. Too bad you have fucked it all up, kitten. Thought you would get fucked today”.

           There’s a whimper, more rummaging, and in a heartbeat she’s naked on the grass. Her cheek is rubbing the leaves, and he is completely dominating her from the back of her neck, putting enough weight just so that she can’t move. Her nipples are hard but hidden in the darkness; he wished he could come closer, lick them up, suck on them. They are perfect, and he just realizes that she wasn’t wearing any kind of underwear under.

           “No bra again? Hoping someone would notice?”

           “Yes, maybe I was hoping some fucking journalist would fuck me up already. It was about time I lived my own Kent fantasy, right?”

           There’s a smack that resonates, and she moves slightly ahead; there’s a whimper, and she bites her mouth as soon as she knows. All on her fours is quite apparent what’s going to happen, or at least that’s what Randall imagines.

           “You want to talk about fantasies? What’s yours, baby? Arsenal, Hawk and Tempest all for you, using you? Maybe with me, ordering you around, baby? Oh, fuck, you got wet. Shit, is that from the talking or was something from before?”

           “Night, shut up”.

           There’s a chuckle and, out of every God that is and is not alive pitying on him, he gets to see his glistening fingers, covered in her own lubrication. He separates himself enough so that he can take off the most important of the suit, letting Randall see her thighs, with wetness going down on them. She wiggles, moves her legs closer just so that she can take off the pressure, the edge – and he knows the edge too well, since he’s been at it too much time. He thinks that he will snap if Nightwing doesn’t touch her, seeing as needy as she seems, desperate for him.

           “My voice is all you are having tonight, brat. You just have to rile me up every time, don’t you? It’s like you don’t want to get fucked…”. His fingers move again, tracing a trail down her breast until her core, where she trembles and moans, slightly. “… Here”.

           His fingers dig in, and her arms almost give out. Her hips move, just like a dog in heat; and Randall figure she must be one. Too seductive, too sexy, too good for only Nightwing to have. He wished he could feel her nipples just like he is doing, left hand massaging her and taking her, pushing her back into his right hand, inside her and apparently going over a very nice zone.

           “God, fuck, Night!”

           “What? You don’t want my fingers?”

           “No! Nono, I didn’t-Oh, fuck. Night.” It’s a sigh, like he knows to perfectly touch her. Have they done this a lot? Have they been fucking all the time they have been at San Francisco and other places? Oh. Is she the reason why he is not outing himself more, like he did in Gotham, with his playboy reputation behind at times? “Night, no. That’s too good. Night please.”. She lifts up her pretty head, letting the moon bathe her, and she is glorious in all her nakedness, her sensuality as she opens her small mouth and moves her hips against him, in an attempt to get more friction, Randall thinks.

           “You don’t like good, now, baby?”. She melts every time he calls her that. Her back relaxes a bit, she sighs and a shiver covers her up. “And I thought I would never hear you complain about being good after-“

           “Shut up… Night! Oh… Fuck, fuck, there. Ah, Night”. It comes in labored breaths (just like the interviews); she can’t concentrate in her words and thus the stops. She is trying but she is absolutely losing. “Please, give me something. Please, I know you want it too. It is literally poking me to death”.

           He laughs and for the first time he palms himself. Randall can admit he is gifted (more than himself, it seems to be). His member is hard and longish, rather than being too big. When he first rubs himself against her, her hands move upwards, trying to grab onto something. Is she sensitive? Her back is trembling, her legs are shivering. Is it too cold? Like fearing that, Nightwing covers her back, presses himself against her.

           “How bad do you want it?”

           “Night, I’m not going to beg.”

           Proud. Yes, he knew she would be like that. Like a princess, in all senses. Maybe except perverseness. She is the real surprise of the night and he couldn’t be any more turned on.

           “No? Then I guess this pussy is going to be empty. And there’s no sense in getting naked, so start dressing up and-“

           “No! No, fuck no!”. She stops him by his arm, lowers him down so he can see her face. “Please! Night, I-“. Her mouth opens. Then closes. She smirks. “I’m going to shout your name if you don’t fuck me. Your real name, D-“

           “You are such a slut.”

           It appears she gets off on those things. She laughs, but before she can continue, Nightwing completely turns her around. His hand goes to her neck, almost in an aggressive way that scares Randall out of his hiding place: he is really attempting to cut her oxygen off, and she is letting herself be controlled. She can hear her gasping for air, arms struggling against his naked body, but her legs grasp at his waist harder, pushing both cores together and… She is rubbing herself on him. Does that actually get her? Shit.

           “You just want to be manhandled and have all of my attention. The fact that I have to go and help others just sets you off. I know you still want me to kiss you in front of all those photographers and make it official, you are so-“

           “Demanding? Insufferable?”

           “Adorable. I just wished you could be this open with the rest.”

           “We have to take things slow, Dick. This can affect so much more than just us.”

           “I know, (Y/N). I-“

           They kiss, like they want to erase everything up. Randall doesn’t know how to gulp everything down: they love each other? Her eyes are full of pure devotion as she continues to rub them off, head hanging almost as she tries to hang it on the grass. Almost because Nightwing (Dick?) grabs her by her waist, slightly elevating her and making her sit on his lap. His cock is rubbing her folds, and there’s almost a desperation in their movements which indicates both are fully prepared. He is at his fucking limit as well; it almost hurts how it’s pressing down on the floor, giving some relief at the same time whenever he moves (just slightly so, he doesn’t want to get caught… Investigating. Yes. Not spying. Spying is dirty. He has been contracted). Is it some type of edging, pursuing out pleasure and trying to make the most out of their desperation? He just wished he would be fucking her brains out, but maybe that’s why he is the one doing her, and not him.

           “I need you. Please, Night, I won’t-won’t complain, won’t be bad, I-“

           “Hush. Let me give it to you.”

           He enters her, and her nails go deep into his skin, moaning out as he moves inside and stops, once he is fully into her, it appears. It takes him some time, some moaning on her side and some furious nails on his back.

           “Always so tight. Are you-?”

           “Yes, just fuck me, make me loose”. She gasps, both of his arms moving to the sides of her head. It appears things are about to get serious. “Fuck me like you know, like-FUCK!”

           He sets down a pace. Her hips on his lap gives him leverage enough to target a special zone inside her body, and he takes on a relentless pace as he penetrates her. There’s dirty sounds of sex and skin clashing together – there’s no problem in getting inside her, apparently, and he notices himself harden even more. Her tits bounce against his chest, just slightly, and he can see her nipples hardened, herself grabbing them and pinching them while he aims at that special area that has her legs desperately tied to him like a vice. Her expression is that out of pure bliss, pain almost as she is bordering the climax, he imagines. She moans out his name, desperately, nails leaving furious marks behind on the bare skin of Nightwing’s back, making him hiss sometimes; others thrust harder, give it all to her.

           “I can’t, I can’t, I’m going to-“

           “Do it, do it, do it”. He insists, like a prayer; and he wonders, how could she resist if pleaded like that? There’s shouts, moans that get stuck in her throat almost as he lunges himself in, until she stops him, definitively, kissing him and moaning, legs out and frozen in time, in an almost painful position before they relax.

           She has cummed. She is completely laxed on the grass, eyes almost closed, and they are whispering each other sweet nothings, he believes. He is kissing her slowly, tenderly, as he makes the slow attempt of fucking her more, but without pressuring her to move. She is hypersensitive, he can tell, by the way she shivers, her legs try and stop him from moving. But there is no real intent, as he can imagine the pleasure she is feeling, the intense feeling of happiness she is surrounded by since it’s all clear in her pleasured out face.

           “Slowly, Dick, please. You are too big”.

           He has to start touching himself. It’s too much, and this is a fantasy he is going to replay a lot of times in the future. Even when tired, hypersensitive, she wants him to cum, use her. She is definitively dirty talking him, praising him:

           “You do it so good, Dick, I will probably-“

           “Yeah?”

           “Yeah.” She confirms, like it’s a secret code, something he was supposed to know. But he doesn’t. “Oh, fuck, not there. I’m going to go again too quick, otherwise”.

           He sets out another pace, but he is careful to no make her cum again, apparently; she looks tired, eyes closed and limp body on the grass, moaning still and with her legs more open this time, just so that he can thrust inside.

           “I’m close. So close. You are so good inside, so hot, so-“

           “Inside. Please, please. I’m safe. I want you in.”

           The way he talks, grunts, and her needy tone makes him know that this will be the last time. He masturbates faster, quietly, but breathing a bit too quickly; he has the start of a lot of his wet dreams in front of him. He has to treasure the experience.

           “(Y/N)!”. He exclaims, shouts, his hands gripping harder onto her skin as she bites her own mouth. Maybe they fear they are too loud, which they are.

           (Y/N)!, he thinks to himself, on the brink too of cumming with him.

           “Fuck, can’t stop!”. Who would? There’s a sweet release when he cums looking at her hardened nipples, her perfect body against the grass and her beautiful eyes. “Adore you.”

           They embrace each other and she trembles moans out and completely destroys the grass around her. It is intense, and it is not until Nightwing slowly retires himself that he can see her fluids, squirting out of her core, still making her shiver. Is she still cumming? That’s so-

           He cums as well. In silence, biting his hand and completely blissed out. The next moments feel too intimate, and he has to dress himself up and clean as quietly as possible. He has listened enough. There’s nothing more he needs at the moment, he couldn’t leave happier.

           …

           “For all it’s worth, I’m sorry”. He sounds sincere. She looks at him directly, still shivering, slightly cold and feeling gross from sweat, blood and sex. “I don’t meant to abandon you. I just know that you are that good”.

           They chuckle, and she rolls her eyes, but it’s all good. She knows. It’s not meant to make her feel alone, or to leave her to her own luck.

           “I know. I’m sorry I get so upset over it. I just wish you would say something.”

           “I will, I promise. I’m not going to do that to you again, okay?”. Her hand goes to her cheek, caressing and kissing her slowly in the nose. It makes her smile.

           She kisses the interior of his wrist, tenderly, before looking at his eyes.

           “I think I want to go to the Tower and get changed. Can we skip statements today?”. There are puppy eyes involved, to which she knows he won’t say no. Not if its her, anyways.

           “They will understand, sure. Let’s get dressed, I want some cuddles”

           “Can I be the big spoon?”.

           “Sure. Anything for you, (Y/N).”