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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

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Pt. 4

Sorry this took so long. In the hospital still. Out of the hospital now!

For @unadulteratedsoulsweets

——

It had been early in the morning when she’d stepped foot in the manor. It was closer to noon, now, that found the reincarnation attentively sitting in one of the (if she remembered correctly from the blue prints) three massive kitchens located in Wayne manor.

She sat atop one of the island stools Damian had ushered her into, spaced a comfortable distance from the man that was her biological father in this life. Her mask dangled at her hip, a comfort she indulged in after unpacking her things. In truth, she’s had cookies before, but it had been so long since she’s tasted it that she might as well have never tried it before. Damian and Alfred Pennyworth worked with maximum efficiency, measuring out flour and sugar and chocolate like there were no tasks more important than this.

Alfred Pennyworth also avoided a specific cabinet that smelled slightly of metal polish and gun powder. It was kept away from the perishables.

Perhaps the manor was smaller and much more homely than the palace, but the reincarnate could see the sense in and approved of the various well-hidden caches of weapons around. Meant for non-lethal take downs, of course, but anything can be lethal if you tried hard enough. Or, considering the vigilante filled manor she had agreed to vacation in, anything could be lethal if one did not try hard enough to keep it non lethal.

The scrape of a spoon drew her attention back to Damian, waving away the off topic musings her mind had wandered into now that a large portion of her brain power was freed from the duty of fear.

She tracked how Damian existed within this space he had so clearly made for himself. He was… happier. Kinder. More. More at ease, more settled into his skin instead of where he stretched it to fit the cast of the Demon’s Heir. Simply, more. He was more Damian than he had been in the league.

When Damian was locked within the walls of the palace, his shoulders were always held straight. There’d been a- not quite darkness- cruelty in his eyes and gait that their grandfather had eagerly nurtured. His chin had remained lifted, his actions closed and callous. She’d feared, for while, that Damian would follow their grandfather’s footsteps. Until the day she saw him sneak a bird into his room to heal, her heart had trembled and grieved to see someone she loved imitate the worst parts of her abuser. It didn’t change the fact that she loved him, but it changed how she taught him.

But experience is a better teacher than she will ever be, and Damian had little chance to experience true kindness in the pits of the league.

Here, Damian is light. Perhaps less aware than he normally would have been, on the look out for fatal attacks as she had trained him to be within the league, but here he is free and safe and relaxed. It feels like she’s sitting in a haze, the chirps of birds and the clouded noon sun casting everything into an unreal light.

“Ukhti, assistance is requested.” Her brother holds out a bowl of dough. Her heart hurt with how happy it was. She squished the dough between her fingers like a child rediscovering her childhood. In some ways, she was.

——

As she watched Damian, in turn the others observed her. Bruce sat beside her, cataloguing every minuscule expression of his child, the first and the eldest, in an attempt to make up for lost time. And truly, it was minuscule. For all Bruce trained in micro-expressions and movements, his eldest- god, he had another daughter, the eldest- daughter remained a mystery from which he gleaned little of. Her face never lifted from that trained neutrality, having resettled back into it after first bite of b’stilla. He cradled the mug of coffee in his hands, the tang of grief and guilt roiling in his stomach as his daughter hesitantly but skillfully rolled a ball of dough.

“Pennyworth has divulged his secrets to me.” Damian plucked the ball from his sister’s hand, who allowed it with traces of… bemusement, perhaps? His eldest daughter flicked her eyes up in question, perhaps mildly amused. Even if she had more than two decades worth of training, Bruce was frustrated that he could not read her. She was his daughter.

Already he fails her. For too long, he had failed her.

“He chills the dough for a chewier cookie. I, and some of the others with adequate taste, prefer this texture. But which would you find adequate?��

His daughter flickered through that sign language again, the one he had no knowledge of. Considering he knew multiple from each continent, that was saying a lot. He was catching a few repeated signs, but nothing concrete.

Alfred waited patiently as they had their conversation, paying sharp attention to their motions. Bruce… felt like he was sitting next to Cassandra. He supposed they were the same, except his eldest daughter hadn’t gotten free.

“That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.” Damian grumbled, resting his hands on the counter, making sure to keep it away from his meticulously clean clothes. “We’ll cook them immediately.”

Bruce, in a fit of inspired parenting, offered a compromise.

“We could do two batches. One for right now and save a batch for later.”

Unspoken were the words ‘so she can try the cookies now.’ Despite the silent nature of his intent, Bruce thought that Alfred and Damian understood anyways.

“A fine suggestion, Master Bruce.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

——

She sensed them before she saw them. Her father had slipped out after his suggestion, no doubt intercepting his flock of traumatized orphans before they could pile in.

Perhaps she had inherited something from Bruce Wayne after, considering how many of them she’d taken under her wing. She rolled the ball of dough between oiled fingers in a haze. Faint memories, impressions of a life long faded, guided her hands as she smooshed the cookies to her preference.

“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Al-Ghul?”Alfred Pennyworth asked her.

‘A Pennyworth for my thoughts?’ She swapped sign language, eyes slyly watching for Damian’s reaction.

Damian, right on cue, clicked his tongue, looking defeated. Alfred, on the other hand, smiled wider.

“A Pennyworth for your thoughts indeed.”

Her humor faded into something softer. Longing. Melancholy.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve made dessert for myself.’

She glanced at Damian, who was trying his best to pretend like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation lest he caught another stray pun. ‘Or used it to inoculate poisons.’

“I see.” The butler patted his hands dry onto a towel, a sharp eye on Damian’s efforts at covering the dough meant for freezing. “I assure you that these cookies will remain poison free, have no worries about that. Now, would you like some tea?”

She shook her head. ‘I’ll make it myself later. Thank you.’

“Very well, Miss-”

“Hi, Alfred. Making cookies?”

Her hands continued to work on her tray, placing cookie dough on the tray with military precision. Damian remained relaxed, though watchful of her reaction.

“That’s correct, Master Tim.”

Tim shuffled over to her, and she turned. Ah, her partial benefactor.

“Little photographer.” She smiled, slightly. Her eyes, however, were warm. Alfred stilled for a brief second at her voice.

“Hi. It’s been a while.” Tim plopped down on the seat next to her. His whole body screamed of nostalgia. It’s odd to see the little scrawny Bristol boy grow into a full fledged vigilante. It seemed like yesterday she was keeping him from slipping on Gotham’s manifestations of its rot and plummeting down on its stone heart.

She hummed. ‘Not too long.’

“What is that supposed to mean? When had you met Drake, recently?”

She glanced at the little- not so little- photographer.

“She helped me bring B back.” Tim lied. She didn’t like how easily he lied to Damian… but on account of her fondness for him, she let it slide.

“Did you, Miss Al-Ghul?” Alfred wiped his hands on the hand towel he carried. “Then I suppose we owe you our sincere thanks.”

She blinked slowly.

‘I didn’t do much. I kept him alive just the once.’

“That is a harder task than one might think, Miss Al-Ghul. Master Tim has, arguably, the worst self preservation instincts out of the life risking vigilantes I have known.” And he has known many, Alfred seemed to imply.

She tilted her head in acknowledgement.

“Hey! What is this? Gang up on Tim day?”

“I would participate in that even if it wasn’t,” Damian stated, packing the frozen cookies away in the corner. “Come and help, Drake. My ukht is about to have her first cookies and we will bake it to perfection. Bring the tray.”

Tim scoffed but slid the tray away from her, Alfred seamlessly dropping a napkin for her to wipe off the dough from her fingertips.

“Thanks, by the way. For saving Z and Owens.”

‘They were my assassins. Even if you did manage to sway them to your cause.’ She tapped the marble island, before opening her mouth. “Thank you. For destroying his pit options. It helped me kill Ra’s.”

In her peripherals, Damian settled back, disgruntled but willing to rest his curiosity as gratitude towards Tim’s part in her freedom overrode his need for answers.

Tim stilled. “…What are friends for, right?”

‘Of course, little photographer.’ She relaxed as her, arguably first, friend and now brother popped the tray into the oven.

“Anyways, they sent me in here to see if you’re ready to meet the rest of them.”

“And they said that?” Damian scoffed, coming around the island to stand beside her as she slipped off the stool.

“Nah, they actually wanted me to subtly vibe check her, but it’s not like she wouldn’t catch me doing it.”

“Ukhti’s ‘vibes’ are perfectly fine,” Damian said crabbily, crossing his arms defensively. She tapped the back of Damian’s neck and he relaxed.

‘Thank you for the… assessment of my character and general disposition.’ She signed dryly.

“Ugh, I should’ve made the connection. Your syntax is exactly like Damian’s.” Tim joked, dodging the punch Damian aimed at his nonexistent spleen.

The reincarnation huffed. ‘I spoke perhaps three words to you.’

“And how many people use disposition on a regular basis?”

“I do, Drake!”

“I know, Damian. That was the point, you little walking thesaurus.”

——

They left Alfred in the kitchen, the man all but shooing them away so he could get working on lunch, and made their way to a sitting room. The floor was covered in a plush blue carpet, a fact that made itself vividly present to the reincarnation when she placed her foot on it, the fabric brushing the back of her heels. She was too trained to allow the slip to visible, but for a microsecond, the memories of kneeling and choking clawed their way past her defenses. She made note of the trigger and moved on, compartmentalizing that fact for later.

“It’s you,” Nightwing breathed out, tensing. The others behind him freeze, even more alert than their regular state. Bruce whipped his head towards him, sharp and searching.

“Nightwing.” She greeted. She felt a kinship with this vigilante turned brother. She watched him soar and fall alongside the little photographer. She watched him grow new wings and watched them get tainted with blood and fear and grim hope. She lived vicariously through him, he who flew when she was chained. In some ways, she had ended up watching his back for a long time, both in yearning for the ease he was allowed at her father’s side and to protect the vulnerable back that knew not of its openness. Bruce inhaled deeply at her voice.

Dick stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She does not disembowel him for it. Instead, she allowed the giant octopus hug her new oldest little brother gave her. There was no aggression in his countenance. Only relief and gratitude.

“You know Dick?” The little, ah, no, she doesn’t want to sound like Ra’s, Tim asked. Dick tensed, clearly unwilling to speak about it. She stepped in.

“I met him once. Eliminated a spider for him on a rooftop. I did not think he would remember.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on knowing who ukhti was?” Damian demanded, scowling. She immediately freed an arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. Damian ducked away with a rather petulant scowl. "Not because of my safety but because she crushed an arachnid for you?"

Dick nodded at him before looking up at her. “I really hated that spider. It was super scary. Thank you for getting rid of it.”

In lieu of an answer, she gently hugged him back.

“I get the feeling.” She said solemnly, voice coming out soft and borne of an implicit understanding. ‘Talk later,’ she signed to him.

“I was not aware you were afraid of spiders, ukht,” Damian muttered. “Though, Richard, I would believe.”

“Hey!”

Dick detached himself and pasted on a mostly genuine smile. “Oh! You should meet the others!”

He turned to the rest of Bruce Wayne’s wards and children to cheerfully point them out.

“This is Duke! He’s Alfred’s favorite grandkid, because he hasn’t burnt down the kitchen yet and reports when he’s injured.”

“Hey. Nice to meet you.” Duke Thomas raised a hand, smiling. “The bar was literally on the floor with you people. ‘Sides, Jason did just fine.”

The reincarnate nodded. Yes, she knew of him, though her memories were hazy. It had been over two decades, after all.

Dick steamrolled onwards. “This is Stephanie-”

“But you can call me Steph!” Stephanie Brown interjected, bouncing in her seat. Despite her bubbly demeanor, her gaze was sharp. Seeing. She liked that sharpness. It was tempered by the same rough and tumble kindness she’d seen in Grave- ah, Jason.

Spoiler, her memories reminded her. It was a soothing distraction from the anxious memories of the league. She found herself collecting little hints and information about this family. Her family, even if it were tentatively so. She caught Bruce staring at them intently, visibly anxious about this meeting.

‘A pleasure to meet you.’

“So… what do we call you?” Steph tilted her head. Hm. A tell Ra’s would have beaten out of her, had Stephanie had the misfortune of being in his presence for more than a day.

“Al Ghul will be adequate.” Damian cut in. The glance he threw her promised a discussion upon the topic of her name. Later, it promised.

“Wow. That’s kind of impersonal though.”

“Steph!”

“What?! I’m not wrong.”

“Anyways!” Dick loudly said over the two bickering kids. “That’s actually it for now.”

“The rest aren’t here as of this moment, but they’ll be around for dinner.”

A white lie. She studied Bruce for a moment before acquiescing. He meant no harm. Despite his capability to inflict harm, his willingness to do so, she could not read a single instance of ill will in him. Not, at least, towards her. She allowed the lie to slide.

‘I wish to see the grounds.’ She put a hand on Damian’s shoulder. He knew what it meant for her to retreat to the wilderness. Nature, where most things were free and where one does not often find Ra’s after he’d had a taste for luxury.

“We will go to the gardens. Ukhti wishes to explore.” Despite the rather curt way he pronounced it, Damian had stepped closer to her side in a gesture of concern. The pit inside of her stomach eased.

“Sounds good! Let’s go!” Steph bounced out of her seat.

“We could tell you stories,” Tim offered from behind her.

“Yeah, like that one time Dick face planted onto one of Poison Ivy’s flower beds because he was distracted by an ice cream truck.” Duke grinned, eyes crinkling.

“Hey! That ice cream truck was full of Scarecrow thugs!”

“And they weren’t worth an Ivy-lecture. I’m surprised she didn’t skin you and make a pot out of your bones, Dick.” Tim yawned.

“Ooo, we should tell her about the time I hit you in the face with a brick!”

“Literally what more is there to that story, Steph?” Tim grumbled.

“I would like to hear this tale,” Damian said, beginning to tug his ukht towards the garden. The rest of the group followed.

“Actually, why don’t we tell her about the time you tried getting Batcow to the barn and he just sat down? Didn’t you bargain with her for an hour, Damian?”

“Tt!”

Duke leaned back and took in the chaos he unfolded with a twinkling grin and Bruce’s sigh bolstering him. And if their newest and oldest addition to the family relaxed in his chaos, well, that was between him and her.

——

Cassandra found her in the gardens, the both of them weaving in between the foliage like light footed cats. Her contingent of Bats were behind them, watching the two former assassins approach each other.

Cassandra had frozen, mirroring the reincarnator’s stillness.

“Ukhti.” The word was torn out of Cass’ throat, filled with tears and relief.

“Cassandra,” she called, fond and kind and loving. Damian’s eyes darted between his sisters. They knew each other. How? She called his ukht, ukhti. A title he had assumed only he could use.

Cassandra scrambled and launched herself at her, silent sobs shaking her frame.

“Hello, Cass,” she caught the flying vigilante, crushing her first little sister into a tight hug. “Freedom suits you, habibti.”

Cass trembles in her arms, hands clutching at the fabric on her shoulder blades like Damian’s. Her eyes softened, and she rested her chin on Cass’s head.

“You know Cassandra too, ukhti?”

She nodded.

“Ukhti named me.” Cass said, voice wobbly. ‘Cass. Cassandra.’ Cass did her name sign. The one she had taught the slip of a girl back when Cass was stuck in a senseless prison and she was only free in terms of movement.

‘First word too.’ She smiled, proud of Cass and how far she’s come. Cassandra reads the pride in her language, the safety and kindness that she’d never forgotten even after traversing the world for years before arriving home, and she burrowed deeper into the hug.

“Oh. I see.”

“Two ukhts.” She smiled at Damian.

Cass shook her head, but before Damian could settle into his hurt at her supposed rejection, Cass explained her confusion. “Ukhti is your name? I’m Cass.”

“Ukhti means older sister.” Damian informed her.

Cass blinked and looked back at the reincarnation. Her shoulders relaxed and drew back, eyes softening and body loosened from its confusion. She smiled, bright as the sun, and deftly clambered around to perch on her older sister’s back.

“Two.” She declared. And truly, the reincarnation was weak to her younger siblings because that was that. Cass declared it so, and it shall be so. Damian grumbled but seemed like they agreed.

“How did you two meet?” Bruce piped up, intent and surprisingly considerate.

“Saved me,” Cass sighed, resting her chin on her ukht’s head. ‘From father and the league. Taught me to speak, a little. My name. Cass. Taught me..’ Cass paused. “Taught me I am not a weapon.”

The former assassin carrying Cass on a piggy back ride hummed in agreement.

“Oh.” The rest of the family glanced at each other. Dick had his shiny teary eyes on, the ones he got when Jason initiated a hang out.

“Not a weapon,” Cass repeated, pressing firmly on her ukht’s head.

A less sure hum. Cass scowled.

“No. Bad,” Cass scolded. “Not a weapon.”

An acquiescing hum, full of fondness and exasperation.

Cassandra Cain will take that answer. For now.

“You named Cass?” Duke asked. Bruce looked at them with gentle eyes.

“After a heroine I knew.” She replied, shifting. Cass hugged her tighter, intently listening. “She was strong. Lethal if need be. But… kind. She had an inherently kind heart. Full of love. Like Cass.”

“Oh, that’s really.. that’s really sweet.”

Cass hugged her ukht closer, touched. She had never known why she had been given the name, but finding out that it was after a heroine her sister looked up to made the day that much brighter. Hopeful. Honored.

“You have not told me this story,” Damian said.

‘I will. One day.’

——

Jason found her at the lunch table. Along with the rest of the brood. Except for, jarringly, an alien named Jarro.

“He’s our alien brother!” Duke said. He smiled, and it was a smile of unassuming harmlessness. A well crafted mask that she knew better than to be fooled by.

She offered three long blinks that had Cassandra, stuck like a limpet on the reincarnator’s back, muffling a laugh.

“Telling truth,” Cass whispered, sentences punctuated by giggles.

She hummed, shifting to more securely carry Cass on her back. Damian sighed and dutifully carried Cassandra’s pack. She smiled at her little brother, who straightened. Adorable. All of her siblings were adorable. She would kill for them. Ah, right. They frown upon murder here. So had she, once. Before Ra’s broke that part of her heart and forced her hands to commit evils that grew gnarled vines through her very soul.

“Oh.” She blinked.

“Hm?”

“Killing is… a choice.” The conversations around them fell silent. Cass’ arms tightened around her shoulders.

“We don’t have to do it, anymore,” Damian agreed. Yes, he understood what it was like, to be raised to kill and suddenly having the option not to.

“Did you not want to kill, before?” Bruce asked, suddenly a bit closer. Her mind was slipping, she realized. It felt… safe, to slip.

‘If I did not,’ she admitted, like throwing stones off of a lock-laden bridge. ‘Damian would bear the consequences.’

She sounded… young. Afraid. Two things she had always been and were never allowed to be.

Bruce Wayne looked at her like his heart was breaking, like he wished he could shoulder her pain on top of the weight of the world he willingly carried since his parents died. This, she is reminded, was why she swore Damian to secrecy regarding her existence. She wondered if he had ever taken the burden of more grief than he could bear.

‘And I could not say no, regardless,” she told them, absent and tired.

She wondered if she would be the one to break him, should she allow him a glimpse of the scars on her back.

“I could have taken it.” Damian grabbed her arm, clutching at her sleeve once more.

“No,” she whispered, haunted. ‘Not while I drew breath, habibi.’

“You don’t have to kill here. We’re all very good with no murder.” Tim reminded her firmly.

“Unless it’s the Joker.” Steph chimed in, bubbly smile gentled into something kinder.

“Unless it’s him.” Duke agreed. His eyes were more serious now.

“No,” Bruce replied, tired. Heavier, in a way that made sour tang of guilt scratch the back of her tongue. She hadn’t meant to give him the weight of knowledge, but she had inadvertently done so with the things she had and hadn’t said. He wasn’t the world’s- she glanced at Tim, who quirked a smile at her- second best detective for no reason.

“Yes, but you’re not ready for that conversation.” Dick snapped, lightheartedly.

Ah. That’s what was off.

They’re kind. They choose to be and they inherently are kind.

It showed. And she wasn’t used to that.

“Lunch.” Cassandra reminded them. She was a solid, grounding presence at the reincarnator’s back.

“Oh, Jason said he’s on the way.” Duke commented, nodding when she quickly did a subtle thank you sign.

“Why does he text you and not me?” Dick whined.

“Wow, man. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of the emoji wall you send?”

“They’re nice! How else are you supposed to know what I’m feeling, right, Cass?”

Cass nodded and gave a thumbs up from her place on ukhti’s back.

“See?!”

“I love you Cass, but you also use a wall of understandable emojis. Dick just spams them.” Steph retorted.

The reincarnator turned to Damian, a silent question in her eyes. He sighed. “Yes, the imbeciles argue all of the time.”

She nodded and the group made their way to the green house for lunch, bickering all the while.

When they get there, Jason Todd, along with Alfred Pennyworth were already at the table.

“Grave.” She greeted as Cass slipped off her back.

“Ain’t no fucking way, Trainer?” Jason leapt to his feet. It was odd, seeing him in casual clothes. Ra’s had kept him in armor most of the time.

“You know each other?”

“At this point, who doesn’t ukht know would be an easier question.” Damian grumbled. She tapped him on the head twice, a light reprimand.

‘Grave was part of your guard,’ she told him. ‘He protected you well.’

“You’re the demon brat’s older sister? That makes so much fucking sense.”

She felt her eyes go cold, lifting to stare at Grave’s rapidly paling face. He visibly backtracks.

“Uh- I mean, you’re Damian’s older sister?”

She regarded him for a beat longer before blinking, ice melting away at the change. The nickname chafed at her neck, too close from a fate she gave everything to save Damian from.

Her head dipped into a small nod.

“Wild.” Jason sat back down. “So, uh, how are you handling the pit?”

‘I am not.’ She informed him, settling down in her seat. Damian claimed the spot next to her and Cass quickly took the other, much to Bruce’s chagrin. Tim plopped down to the seat next to Cass, eyes zeroing onto the chamomile tea Alfred had set out for him.

Duke smiled at Bruce before sitting next to Jason, Steph skipping over and sitting next Dick and Jason at the same time.

“Ukhti managed to get rid of the side effects,” Damian informed the table at large.

Her little bat had the worst ability to make sure attention focused on her, the reincarnation groused. She sighed.

“How?” Clearly, Grave had forgotten how much she beat him into the sparring mat because he leaned forward to glare at her. Well, she hadn’t wanted him too afraid of her.

‘Magic.’

His face fell at the assumed non answer, but Damian’s nod had the entire table once more expectant.

She sighed and began weaving her magic.

——

She stalked through the shadows of the manor, at ease. Bruce and the others had left on patrol, hours ago. She was clad in her sleeping clothes, one of her less favored clothes. Her hands would get dirty again tonight but she was long past the point of lingering on those regrets.

“Miss al-Ghul,” Alfred turned as she stepped towards him, having made sure she made adequate noise as a forewarning. “Having a good night?”

She tilted her head, eyes inquisitively peering at the spotless china display behind the butler.

“Ah, you must be curious about the fine ceramics we have currently displayed,” Alfred smiled. “Would you be so kind as to indulge an old butler on this topic?”

She had an idea about the kind of gift Alfred Pennyworth would appreciate.

——

“Uh, whatcha got there?”

She blinked, pulling bloodied hands away from her clothes where she had been inspecting them. The assassin that caused the damage on her clothes laid beneath her feet, still and lifeless. She blinked again.

Nightwing, Dick, stood in front of her, freshly showered from his patrol.

Some form of long forgotten instinct rose from the dry rotted fabric of her faded memories had her responding, ‘A smoothie.’

“…That’s… not a smoothie,” Dick said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I’m pretty sure that’s an assassin?”

She shrugged. “He was after Damian. To force him into being the Demon’s head.” She paused. ‘I am tying up loose ends.’

Dick considered her. And the he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right, okay. I’ll help you get rid of the evidence.”

She waved him off, clicking her fingers and looking over the room with critical eyes as the body and traces of the fight disappeared.

“Woah, handy.”

‘Very,’ she agreed. ‘Did you need something?’

He made a face. “That’s weird. It’s usually me asking that,” he muttered. “Uh, yeah. I just… wanted to thank you again. And uh, let you know that the others don’t know so if you could not tell them, that would be great?”

With a huff, she reached over and up to gently ruffle his hair. ‘Of course. Damian did not know either.’

“Right,” he breathed. “You get it.”

She gave him a knowing look. “Been avoiding thinking about it?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

She looked at him, silent. Offering a space to listen, and a quiet promise to offer no judgement.

“I don’t- it- I could have stopped her,” he told her, guilt and shame and the lingering whispering voice Catalina burrowing into his ears and heart.

And when he started, it seemed to him like he couldn’t stop. Dick told her of the things he felt as she got on top of him, of how numb and far away things were. How, if it rained, he couldn’t be in the quiet because it made him relive it.

“But… but you stopped her so I shouldn’t even be like this!”

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ She told him, the first thing she’s said since he’s started talking. ‘The only one at fault was her. You trusted her to stop. She did not. Her crimes were not yours to bear.’

She paused, taking in the refusal she could read on his face. “If someone beats another person, would you blame the person who was beaten?”

“No!”

‘Then you are kind. But you are so kind to others, why not yourself?’

Dick fell silent.

“I killed Ra’s,” she reminded him. “He allowed many others to partake in my body without my agreement.”

She leaned towards him, the admittance of something she had not even told Damian ringing painfully in her heart but made all the easier to say by the fact that one of her little brothers (the free, first Robin, the son who stood by Bruce’s side when she could not) needed her. “He himself partook in me. And yet,” she added, when Dick looked up. ‘It is difficult to forget. I am still afraid when I step onto the carpet on the sitting room.’

“The carpet? The rug? The fluffy one?” He asked, confused.

“It is like… your rain and silence,” she crossed her arms. ‘That and the sound of rustling silk reminds me of his chambers.’

“Oh.”

‘I killed him and it will not go away. Would you blame me for that?’

“No, that’s how healing is- oh.”

“Be kind, to yourself.”

His chin trembled. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Ukhti.”

“Ukhti,” he parroted, aiming a watery and small smile her way.

She held out her arms and, with Dick’s tacit understanding, tucked him beneath her wings like she did with Damian. “Thank you for offering to get rid of the body, habibi. But I would not want you to get in trouble.”

“Eh, I’ve helped Jason deal with worse.”

‘Comforting.”

“I know, right?”

——

“Why the hell do you keep calling me Grave?” Jason asked her, grumbling as he tried to wire his new helmet after the last one got damaged.

She leaned back, basking in the sun on the new rugs. After their conversation, Dick had set fire to every fluffy rug in the house-

“What the hell, dude?!” Duke gaped as he watched Dick cheerfully toss an expensive rug into the impressive bonfire they had going on.

“Ukhti doesn’t like fluffy rugs,” Dick said with a straight face. Damian dragged another roll to the bonfire with a scowl. “Alfred Approved project, if you want to join~!”

Duke stared at him… and picked up a roll to toss into the fire.

- and bought new ones using Bruce’s credit cards.

“You got some of your memories back, in the league.” She hummed. “You liked reading. Poems.”

“What does that even have to do with Grave?”

“I remembered one. A line. Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep…”

Jason twisted around. “Are you kidding me?”

She continued. “Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.”

“But I did die.”

She shrugged. ‘People still remembered you. Gotham and Bruce cried at your loss. I saw it.’

She straightened and smiled a small smile at him. ‘Besides. You got better.’

Jason snorted. “You too, I guess.”

She hummed an agreement, eyes slipping closed in the warm light of the sun, relief after a long second life of cowering in the shadows of a man more like a demon than he was a grandfather.

#dc #Batman #apparently oc got inducted into the dc version of ROOT from Naruto #thanks bestie I hadn’t thought of that #oc gets isekaid and proceeds to have a shit of a time #oc in a discovery channel narrator voice: a Damian in his natural habitat is a relaxed creature #reincarnation #oc in dc #me: oc gets hugs.#my sister used to give me piggy back rides and I kinda miss it #when we were young #unfortunately she is now old as dirt and her back sounds like popping bubble wrap #oc: I would murder for cass if she’d let me #oc: wow I’m feeling guilty #also oc: *is holding back tears at genuine kindness*#they have a greenhouse bc I said so #also bc that’s where they keep Ivy’s plant samples on hand #and bc Alfred likes gardening and that was Bruce’s gift to him on Father’s Day #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #fuck you catalina flores #if she has no haters I’m dead #tw: talk of murder #tw: implied abuse #tw: sa #the specific grief of watching someone you raised/loved grow to be like the person who almost broke you

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queermentaldisaster · 1 year ago

Text

Rumor has it that the Riley family is cursed. First, their youngest son, kidnapped under mysterious circumstances. The nephew? Hit by a motorcycle that just happened to roll off the road. The oldest and his wife? Crashed into a tree that was in the middle of the asphalt. The father? Murdered in his hospital bed. The mother? Overdosed on pills she'd never had.

Task Force 141 knows the rumors. Who in the UK doesn't? One day, 141 is sent out to help a team in Las Almas called Los Vaqueros. Apparently, the Las Almas cartel is having a territory dispute with the neighboring city's cartel, the Zaragoza cartel. While Los Vaqueros is handling the Las Almas cartel with Gaz and Roach's help, Price and Soap go to handle the Zaragoza cartel. They go undercover, and discover someone with brown eyes and blond lashes, wearing a balaclava, being passed around like many of the blunts in that room.

Soap manages to get his hands on this person, who's clearly out of it. After some finagling, he manages to get them outside, wrapping them in his coat to provide them with some decency.

When they wake up, they're in a bed in the Los Vaqueros base. Soap asks them for their name and pronouns, and he introduces himself as Ghost.

#tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #cw: sui mention #tw: mentions of death #tw: mentioned overdose #tw: implied/referenced drugging #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty mw2 #ghoap au #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #elo rambles

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aprocessionofthoughts · 9 months ago

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To Sleep

whumptober24 day 8- sleep deprivation fandom- batman tw- Dick mentions the rain which is a reference to the Tarantula incident, nothing about the incident is mentioned but stay safe my darlings summary- Dick can't sleep

masterlist ao3

It’s raining, and Dick can’t sleep. He’s in the manor. He should be fine. It’s been years.

He should be fine.

He turns again in bed, throws the sheets off, then pulls them back on a few seconds later. He lays on his back and stares at his dark ceiling, then twists to lay on his side, then his stomach, then his side again. He fluffs his pillow, then tries laying down without it, then with two pillows.

He can’t sleep.

He presses a pillow against his face. He wants to scream into it, but in a family of vigilantes even a muffled scream won’t go unnoticed.

He tries doing the fibonacci sequence in his head but only makes it to 10946 before his mind wanders off. Counting sheep has never worked because his mind has always taken it as a challenge to see how far he can go.

He rolls over and grabs his phone, hoping soothing music will help.

He’s still restless. He gets up, goes to the bathroom and takes a drink of water from the cup on his bedside table. He sits on the edge of the bed and tries some mindful breathing and thought clearing exercises.

He can’t stop thinking about everything bad that’s happened, about all his mistakes.

He shakes his head hoping to dispel the negative thoughts, he whispers ‘shut up, shut up, shut up’ to himself in the darkness. Why won’t his mind shut up?

He’s tired. He wants to sleep. Why can’t he sleep?

He flops back into bed, pulls the sheets up, tosses them off. He groans as he immediately feels chilled and has to pull the sheets back on.

Why can’t he–

His door creaks open and he freezes, holding his breath.

“–go of me, Todd! I will gouge out your eyes and shove them down your throat!’

Dick starts to sit up, because what is happening–

Then a body falls on top of him, and Dick can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around the person on top of him. Damian. It’s Damian that Jason seems to have dropped on top of him.

“Wha–” he starts to say, but Jason interrupts.

“Could hear you tossing and turning from my room.”

Dick feels embarrassment heat his cheeks. “Sorry, I–”

“Shut it.” Jason says.

Damian is surprisingly quiet. Dick shifts, he tries to let go of Damian, but his arms won’t listen. “Sorry, Dami, you don’t have to stay.”

“Tt.” Damian squirms on top of him, and Dick’s heart rate spikes thinking he’ll leave him. But Damian settles again so he’s only half laying on Dick. “I do not mind.” he says. “Afterall, you have to sleep so that you can have the energy to keep up with me on tomorrow’s patrol.”

Dick’s eyes water slightly, and he squeezes Damian tighter.

“Well, now that my good deed of the week is done…” Jason says, and Dick’s eyes dart to him.

He manages to extract an arm from where it’s curled around Damian. He extends his hand to his little brother. Jason hesitates, and Dick pulls up his best puppy dog eyes until Jason relents.

“Fine.” Jason lays down on the very edge of the bed, but Dick extends an arm, wraps it around Jason and pulls him closer.

This is nice. Dick’s got two of his brothers here with him. He closes his eyes.

He still hasn’t fallen asleep yet when he hears his door creak open again. He cracks his eyes open to see two faces peak in. Dick smiles gently and extends a hand toward Tim and Steph. They slink in quietly crawling onto the bed, and Dick’s only regret is that he doesn't have enough arms to hug them all at the same time.

He feels himself sinking deeper into rest when the door creaks open again. This time Cass comes in dragging Duke behind her. She smiles gently at him before they’re both climbing onto the bed as well.

Dick’s heart could burst from joy. All his siblings, here together with him.

Like this, he can rest.

He feels sleep pulling at him. His door creaks open again, but he’s too tired to open his eyes. He feels a hand run fingers through his hair, scratching soothingly at his scalp. Bruce presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Love you, chum.”

Dick feels him pull away and darts out a hand to grab his wrist.

He hears a soft chuckle, but then the bed dips, and the hand returns to his hair.

“Go to sleep.” his dad whispers.

And here, surrounded by his family, Dick finally does.

#whumptober 2024 #whumptober2024 #no.8 #sleep deprivation #insomia #batman #fanfic #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #Dick Grayson needs a hug #he gets one #hurt/comfort #hugs #siblings #good sibling jason todd #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

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mugloversonly · 3 months ago

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Saved Yourself

Summary: Eddie went to a club to get out of his comfort level a little… it didn't go well. Steve finds him and finds out just what happened to the metalhead. This one is kinda heavy cw: attempted rape, violence, referenced rape

AO3

Eddie’s known for a while that he was bisexual. He even had a few trysts in Hawkins. After spring break, he didn’t hookup in Hawkins anymore. Not from a lack of options mind you. It’s surprising how many people are interested in sleeping with an alleged serial killer. Especially when the real killer was sitting behind bars. If it wasn’t for his D&D sheepies and their weird band of teenage friends, he’d be on the hook for it. It really weirded him out.

He’d been to gay clubs before, but never by himself. He should have asked Robin to come with him, but he knew she was going out with Chrissy and Steve tonight (he was invited, but he needed to do this). She would have joined is the thing. After everything, the two of them had become as close as two people who already had platonic soulmates could get. But he needed to be brave and do something on his own for once.

He got to the front and flashed his ID, with his birthday last week, he finally didn’t have to use a fake.

He stepped through the door and was bombarded with lights, sounds, and smells he had never experienced. A huge smile broke across his face. He found his people.

He makes his way to the bar, and as he’s waiting for the bartender, a man sits on the stool next to him. He turned and smiled at the man. “Hey cutie,” he said. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before” he grinned. Eddie tried not to roll his eyes. Classic pick up line.

“You haven’t. This is my first time here”. Eddie confirmed as the bartender made his way over. He ordered a beer, tilted it in thanks before taking a sip. He glanced around, and saw the packed dance floor. He wasn’t much of a dancer but, for tonight? He was pushing himself out of his comfort zone. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Jaime.”

“I’m Eddie. Wanna dance?” He tried for a flirtatious smile. It seemed to work as Jaime stood and grabbed his elbow to pull him onto the dance floor. He immediately grabbed onto Eddie’s hands and pulled him close. “I’m just here to dance.” He made sure to be stern.

“That’s okay, baby. I love to dance.” Jaime winked. Eddie glanced around, saw the way everyone was moving and did his best to replicate it. He must’ve been doing something right because by the next song, another man was cutting in.

“Mind if I cut in?” He asked. Jaime looked reluctant but Eddie was here for a fun night.

“Sure!” Eddie exclaimed, shifting around to dance with the new guy, Daniel, he found out. Daniel, had his hands on Eddie’s hips, swaying them side to side. Eddie’s hands wrapped around his shoulders and pressed in close. The heady mix of alcohol and old cigarettes, rushed to his head.

He was right where he wanted to be; he’d found nirvana.

At the end of the song, another man cut in to dance. This one grasped Eddie from behind and thrust his hips against his ass. Eddie took the hint and ground back against him. He put his hands on the shoulders behind him, threw his head back and closed his eyes. He kind of liked the feeling of not knowing who was behind him. The music moved through him and he felt electric. He didn’t get this one’s name, but he found it added to the electricity.

By the time he took a break to get a drink, he had a few more dance partners. He stopped counting after ten. He settled up to the bar and ordered a beer but when he tried to pay, the bartender said someone already covered it, pointing to a pretty blond man at the end of the bar. He should protest, but if he learned anything from his dad, it was to never look a free drink in the mouth. He lifted his beer towards the man before taking a long sip.

The blond man came over and slid into the bar stool next to him. “The name is David, I saw you dancing. You looked incredible, can I take you for a spin?” He asked with a wink. Eddie did his best not to recoil in disgust. Nonetheless, he nodded and drank his whole beer in one go.

He was having an amazing time. David kept complimenting him, telling him how pretty he was. He’d never had someone call him pretty before and it happened so many times tonight that he lost count. Another man stepped up behind him.

“Hey Gorgeous, I’m James. Can I join you two?” Eddie giggled as the guy introduced himself. “Your ass is perfect, baby” he whispered in his ear as he squeezed his ass. He tensed a bit before relaxing again. Just like he had been doing all night, Eddie let James know he was only there to dance.

Suddenly, he found himself with David pulling him chest to chest, and James pushing his hips against Eddie’s ass. He threw one arm over David’s shoulders and another behind him to touch James’.

Eddie had never felt so desired. And it wasn’t because of his reputation. It was the way he looked. Not people who wanted to pay for drugs in a different way, or sleep with an alleged killer. Just men looking for a good and fun time, and finding Eddie. The rush made his head swirl. The two men told him how beautiful and radiant he looked. It felt like they were competing for his affection. He felt powerful. Dare say, loved.

________________

The night was going amazingly. He had danced with so many men, and even a number of women. Their hands were all over him. In his hair, on his chest, squeezing his ass and even a few bold hands lightly grazing over his cock-which he could do without; but, it was so quick he didn’t think much of it. He was sweaty, and parched, but was elated for the most part.

Eddie made his way to the bar again and grabbed a water this time. He did have to drive home after all. Instead of staying at the bar, he found an empty booth and slid in. He breathed a sigh of relief when no one approached him immediately. He was having an amazing time, but he was starting to get tired.

His respite was short lived; however, when someone he never thought he’d see here waltzed up, smirking at him. “Tommy Hagan?!” Eddie exclaimed, doing his best to keep his fear in check. He knew Tommy was in the closet after the last few encounters they had, but he didn’t think he’d ever have to see him again after he left for college.

“Eddie Munson. Long time no see.” Tommy said, a predatory grin on his face. “Mind if I have a seat?” Eddie shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Free country man.” Tommy slid into the booth, not exactly crowding Eddie, but not exactly giving him space either. He moved his hand towards him, just a bit. An open invitation that he ignored.

“You looked so beautiful out there Eddie.” Tommy said quietly. “I loved watching you move.” A predatory leer gracing his face. He wasn’t sure what his face was doing, but as Tommy’s eyes hardened, Eddie had a pretty good idea. “No, it’s true. You know I always thought you were pretty, even in high school. It’s why I was so angry at you all the time. I’d only been into girls, and then suddenly this guy turns my head.” He snorted. He knew he was Tommy’s gay awakening, but to be reminded of it here? Priceless. “If I’m assuming correctly, you’re here to meet someone. Well, I’m someone. Let me take you home.”

“Thanks, but I’m not interested in doing anything but dance tonight.”

Tommy smirked. “With the way you were grinding on me, I would have thought you’d be eager for it”. An icy feeling ran up Eddie’s spine. It must have been the man he didn’t see. His face paled and he was suddenly nauseous. Before he could respond, David slid into the booth opposite him.

“So darling, think about my offer?” He completely ignored Tommy in favor of propositioning him. How was he to reject two guys without the other thinking he was accepting?

“I’m flattered,” he was interrupted by both Jaime and James coming up to the booth too. Shit. Now there were four guys. He told them all(well minus Tommy) that he just wanted to dance. He guessed they would take a hint, but they must have assumed he was playing hard to get. “Uh, I think I want to dance some more.” He nudged Tommy so he could slide out. On his way past, Tommy groped his ass, and he suppressed a shudder. He abandoned his drink and slipped back into the crowd.

Hopefully that told the guys that he wasn’t interested. A glance behind him, told him otherwise. He ducked into a shadow on the dance floor, and did his best to blend into it. The four men seemed to be working together to find him, but they weren’t successful.

Just when he was taking a breath, he found himself face to face with Daniel, who was eyeing him with hunger. He squeaked, drawing the attention of the other four. Backed into a corner, he did his best to seem smaller. Looking around, there was no clear escape route.

“Come on Eddie,” Jaime said. “You danced with all of us. Which one of us to you like?” He didn’t know what would happen if he were to choose.

“I like all of you.” He said holding his hands up in surrender. Tommy growled in frustration.

“Which one of us do you like more?” Tommy asked. Panicked Eddie pushed himself further into the corner.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” He shouted. The group started shouting at each other. Pushing each other and yelling, all trying to get closer to Eddie.

He wanted to feel desirable, but this was a whole other level. He didn’t exactly hate it. He could admit that to himself. Finding out that people would fight over him, just because he was cute and funny, well, that did something for his ego. As flattered as he was, he still paled at the thought that they were going to literally fight over him.

Thankfully, in all the commotion, there was an opening he could slip through. He decided he had enough fun and made his way to the exit.

He pushed his way outside and walked towards the alley behind the bar. He cursed his past self for parking a few blocks away and that the alley was the only route to his van. Behind him, he heard the voices of the men from earlier. Doing the only thing he could think of, he took off like a shot.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t as fast as usual since he was worn out from the dancing. They caught up to him and surrounded him again. They closed ranks making sure there was no way he could slip past again. “shit,” he murmured to himself.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” Daniel spit, the others nodding their agreement.

“I told you I only wanted to dance” Eddie insisted.

“A pretty thing like you?” Jaime sneered. “Never only wants to dance.” Jaime calling him pretty suddenly didn’t sound so nice.

“Since you couldn’t choose,” James said. “We’ll choose for you.” He stalked forward.

“Boys,” Tommy smirked. “We can share. Take turns. Don’t worry, he won’t fight back. He never fights.” Eddie’s eyes widened as he looked around at the men. They were looking at him like he was a piece of meat. And not in a fun way. “Who should go first?” Tommy smirked. The look in his eyes sent terror through Eddie. He’d had that same look when he and Billy bought from him together. Nothing good came from that look. Bile rose in his throat as Tommy spoke again. “I wonder if we can make him cry. He’s pretty when he cries”.

There was some debate going on but Eddie tuned it out. He was doing his best not to hyperventilate as he looked down the alley for help. There was no one around that he could see. He was shit out of luck.

“Looks like, since I danced with you first, I go first.” Jaime stepped forward and grabbed him by the wrist. He yanked his hand, but he held strong.

“Let me go!” Eddie yelled, hoping his screaming would make the men back off. He didn’t see where the blow came from, but his face burst in pain and he was spun around and pinned against the wall of the bar, his arm twisted up behind him, making him gasp in pain.

Someone pushed his face against the brick, and another attempted to kick his legs apart. He was really panicking now. Five on one was never a fair fight, but add into it his fear of what would happen if he stopped fighting... Eddie thrashed around. He screamed, and kicked, and threw his body back against his attackers. Nothing was working. It was easy to hold one person down, especially if you outnumbered them.

They all fought back, smacking his face, slamming his head into the brick, a hand found its way around his neck, tightening hard.

At that, all the fight left him. He let his body go slack and closed his eyes. If he couldn’t physically get away, he could at least mentally check out right? He’d done it before. The men laughed in victory as they moved in closer. “Limp like a rag doll” Tommy sneered. Eddie was so focused on blocking out what was around him, that he didn’t hear the sounds of footsteps coming towards them.

Suddenly, there were grunts of pain, and Eddie was falling to the ground. He landed harshly on his hands and knees, coughing and sputtering as he gulped in air. He blinked his eyes clear, and as the spots disappeared from his vision, he saw a man silhouetted, against the street lights. He had a magnificent swoop of hair, a gray members only jacket, and blue jeans that hugged his frame. In his hands, was a nail studded baseball bat that he was swinging with intent at Eddie’s attackers.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. This had to be a mistake right? Until he heard the man’s voice.

“You better get the fuck out of here assholes, before I make you.” He swung again. Steve.

Steve and Eddie had become unlikely friends. After the new freshman he adopted had spoken so highly of Steve Harrington, Eddie was convinced it was all an act. But after Jason Carver broke into his trailer and attacked his girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham, as Eddie watched, he stopped thinking about reputations and rumors. He managed to knock him out before he did real damage, but that made him angrier.

In his desperation, Eddie picked Chrissy up and carried her to his car. He was going to take her to the hospital, but he knew how this looked. So he did the only thing he could think of, and drove to Steve Harrington’s.

By the time they had patched Chrissy up, agreed that the two of them should hide there, and pulled Eddie’s van into the garage, Chrissy and Eddie were heading fast towards platonic soulmate territory and Steve was becoming Eddie’s best guy friend. Even Carver killing other teens and pinning it on Eddie couldn’t damage it.

In fact, it was Steve who helped clear his name, along with the rest of the party.

So seeing Steve here, made him instantly feel safe, before he remembered where he was. Outside a gay bar. Shit.

His adrenaline was still quickening his blood, his heartbeat filled his ears. His vision blurred. He could vaguely hear Steve yelling again. All his attackers ran off as soon as Steve started swinging. All except one.

Tommy Hagan.

He didn’t seem to care that someone he knows saw him outside a gay bar, in fact he smirked. “Steve-O. Why are you defending this trash? I know the kind of guy Munson is and I know he’s beneath you. He’s used goods. Trust me.” He smirked. For once Tommy was right. Eddie was unworthy of Steve. Especially here in this alley. He was trash, horrible and dirty. Used up.

It’s his fault he’s even here. If he hadn’t come alone. If he told someone where he was, if he hadn’t danced. If he wasn’t such a...

“He’s such a fucking tease.” Came Tommy’s sneer, almost as if he pulled the thought right from his mind. “What, because he finally graduated, he’s too good from me now?” Eddie was filled with shame. His face heated and tears filled his eyes again. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to hold them back. He did his best to keep them quiet but he wasn’t sure he was successful. Especially when Tommy laughed meanly “even if he wasn’t easy, he’s a fucking murderer”.

Eddie took gasping breaths. Even here, miles from home, he can’t escape. No matter that Carver had confessed, there were still those who thought he’d brainwashed him into killing the other teens and he staged his own injuries when he fought Jason to protect Max.

For reasons he couldn’t name, it hurt worse that Tommy thought that. He hated himself for caring what he thought. Hunched on the floor of the alley, he rolled himself into a ball, arms tight around his legs.

He vaguely heard Steve yelling and a short scuffle. When the fighting stopped, a figure made his way over. Through his sobbing panic, he couldn’t tell which of them it was. A hand reached out and he flinched back so violently, he slammed his shoulder into the brick wall. His panic increased tenfold when the hand didn’t stop. He let out a little whimper. “Don’t touch me” he pleaded, “not again.” His voice was rough as the words clawed from his throat. “Don’t hurt me”. White hot shame coursed through him as he begged. “Not again, please”. Fear was quickly overtaken by relief when the hand pulled back.

“Hey, hey. It’s me. It’s Steve.” A hushed voice reassured. Steve. With a shudder, he tried to regulate his breathing. Steve held his hand out, palm up, in invitation. Grateful to have a choice this time, he grabbed his hand. Steve took his hand and pulled it to his chest. “Follow my breaths.” He breathed in and out deliberately until Eddie’s breathing returned to normal. He pulled his hand back and wiped them over his face before wrapping them around himself.

Rocking back and forth, he dragged his hands up and down his arms in an attempt to self-soothe. “Thanks…for the breathing, and the rescue.” Eddie whispered. “Not to sound ungrateful, but how did you end up in this alley?” He couldn’t meet Steve’s eyes, not until he calmed down.

Steve cleared his throat. “The bar across the street is where the girls and I went tonight. I took a smoke break, when I saw someone practically sprint out of the club and people follow.” He took a shuddering breath. “I just reacted. Popped the trunk, grabbed the bat, and took off. It wasn’t until Tommy started talking shit that I even realized it was you.”

“Right place, right time.” They nodded in agreement. Wait…Steve is with the girls. Shit. “Listen, can you not tell the girls about this? I’m sober enough to drive, and I’d really like to go home and forget.” A frown graced Steve’s mouth.

“They wouldn’t judge you Eddie.”

“No,” he agreed. “I just can’t deal with their concern right now.” Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand again, holding tightly. Trying to get him to understand. He searched Eddie’s face and whatever he saw there convinced him. He sighed.

“Fine. I won’t tell them. But unless you plan to hide for the next week or so, they’ll see the evidence. So, you should be ready to tell them something” He gestured to the other man’s face. Eddie reached a hand up and felt something wet. He expected tears, but his hand was covered in blood. “Robin is going to go on a rampage, and knowing Chrissy? She’ll help.” He chuckled not noticing Eddie’s face pale.

The panic returns, his breathing speeds up, he turns to look at Steve, his frightened eyes reflected back to him. He felt the world tilt and he knew he was running out of time. He needed to tell him to call...he needed...

“Wayne” he manages to say before he promptly passes out.

____________

Eddie never had the luxury of waking slowly. His eyes burst open and he startled when he doesn’t recognize where he is. Remembering the last time this happened, he sat up and quickly threw off the scratchy blankets. Swinging his legs off the bed, he makes to stand up before someone was on him. He screamed and thrashed, pulling himself out of the arms around him. He made a break for the door, before he was being restrained again.

Still trying to fight his way out, a bustle of people ran through the door. He cried and begged to be let go, to not be hurt anymore, but they ignored him and stuck a needle in his arm. He screamed out for his Uncle Wayne to help him, but he was no where to be found. His body started to slump, whatever they injected him with causing him to feel drowsy. “Wayne,” he whispered helplessly. “Steve, help me”. Then he was unconscious again.

When he next woke up, it was quiet. He blinked slowly in the harsh light as he stretched his arms. Or tried to, but he was stopped. He looked down and his wrists were bound to the bed. Not again. Eddie thought as he thrashed against the binds. Whimpers fell from his lips as he struggled. A wrinkled hand grabbed his own. Instead of panic, this time he was filled with relief. “Wayne” he whispered, instantly calming. He saw his Uncle’s calm face come into view as he reached over and hit the call button.

“Hey kid.” Wayne said softly. Before he could respond, the door opened and a nurse came in. She checked his vitals and unbound his wrists.

“Sorry about these,” she said looking genuinely remorseful. “You woke up fighting a few times so we had to sedate you. The straps are a precaution.” Her eyes hardened as she explained. “I told them it was a bad idea to restrain you as that would probably cause you more panic, but hospital security never listens to us.” She shook her head in annoyance. “The doc will be in in a minute, but for now, close your eyes.” She left some cream for his wrists if he needed it, and placed something from the cafeteria on the tray in front of him. “Alright, open.” She whispered with a wink. He opened his eyes and found a bowl of vanilla ice cream. “The good stuff, that’s for the doctors and pregnant people.” His favorite. Eddie found himself smiling for the first time in hours. Maybe days. He had no idea how long he has been here. The nurse left with another apology for the restraints.

“I thought you promised no more hospital this year?” Wayne eyes shined with tears. Suddenly, Eddie went from relief at seeing his uncle to guilt for making him sit next to another hospital bed. There was no way he would be able to hold back his tears, so Eddie didn’t even try.

“I’m sorry, dad.” His eyes burning as the tears kept coming. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Wayne cursed under he breath before he nudged Eddie. He slid over and Wayne got into bed with him. He held him close like he did when Eddie first moved in. Shushing him gently and petting his hair, he spoke the mantra from his childhood, “nothing to apologize for. It’s okay, we’re okay.” Repeating it over and over until Eddie’s tears dried up.

“I know you didn’t mean it Ed. This isn’t your fault, you hear me?” Wayne pressed a kiss into his hair. “Not your fault” he said again, as if he knew Eddie hadn’t believed him. He nodded into his uncle’s chest. “Are you feeling up to some visitors?” Eddie shook his head, before nodding it, and then shaking it again. Wayne huffed. “Which is it?” Amusement clear in his tone. Eddie wasn’t sure if he could explain to his uncle that he only wanted to see one person. Nevertheless, he tried.

“Steve” was all that came out, but luckily his uncle knew what he needed.

“He’s been waiting in the lobby for you for two days now.” This caused Eddie to sit up.

“Two days?”

“Yeah son. It’s Monday.” He’d been at the club on Saturday. Wayne was missing work today and Steve was likely missing work too. His eyes prickled again with shame and self-loathing. If he hadn’t been so stupid and easy, none of this would have happened.

“They wouldn’t allow anyone but me in the room since you kept reacting aggressively when you woke up” Wayne rubbed his back soothingly, misinterpreting Eddie’s tears. He fell back into Wayne’s chest. Too exhausted to sit up. “I’ll go tell him he can come back”. Wayne goes to disentangle himself from his nephew, but he grabs his shirt and won’t let go. He let out a pitiful sound that broke Wayne’s heart. Sitting back on the bed, he gathered Eddie back in his arms. “Alright, alright. I’ll let one of the nurses know he can come back. Is that okay?” Eddie nodded. “He’s here with two those young ladies, Robin and Chrissy. He tried to tell ‘em to go home, but they’re as stubborn as him, if not more so.” He chuckled and Eddie weakly joined in.

As much as Robin and Steve were platonic soulmates, so were Eddie and Chrissy. She wouldn’t go anywhere once she knew he was here. And Robin would never leave Steve here alone. It warmed his heart to know he had such good friends. “Steve first.” He pressed the words into his uncle’s shirt.

He called for a nurse to let his friends know he was awake. Not five minutes later, Steve practically threw the door off the hinges. Eddie startled so violently, he would have fallen off the bed if not for Wayne’s arms around him. He sent Steve a glare over Eddie’s head. Steve slid into the room much quieter.

“Sorry” he whispered. He looked at Eddie like he wanted to reach out but was afraid of hurting him. He gave him a tentative smile as he held his hand out, once again giving Eddie the choice to take it or not. Feeling seen, Eddie took his hand with a grateful smile. “How’re feeling Eds?” He kept that same hushed tone.

Eddie shrugged. He hadn’t taken the time to check himself over. “What happened?” Based on the look on Steve’s face, Eddie isn’t sure he wants to know.

“What all do you remember?” Steve asked. Thinking back, only one thing came rushing back; being cornered by Tommy Hagan.

“Tom...Tommy, he.” He felt Wayne’s arms tighten; Eddie’s sure he recognizes the name. He felt his airways close, the heart rate monitor picked up speed, as did his breathing. Steve took a step closer, but Wayne held his hand up to stop him. He wrapped his arms tighter around Eddie, being sure to leave his arms free so he wouldn’t feel trapped. He rocked them back and forth, and began singing the song that always worked to calm Eddie.

“Someday I wish upon a star, with clouds so far behind me” the familiar tune of Somewhere over the Rainbow coming back to him instantly though it’s been some time since he’s had to sing this for his nephew. His deep husky voice filled the room until it drowned out Eddie’s quieting sobs. Steve remembered how this helped the last time he was in the hospital and joined in softly.

When Eddie joined in, Wayne knew he was calming down. He reached a hand out to Steve and gently grasped it. The other hand was wrapped around Wayne’s arm, holding him close. “Thanks for rescuing me, Stevie.” He whispered. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did I don’t know...I mean I know what would have happened and I’m really glad that it didn’t.” He said wetly. It was obvious to everyone that he was trying not to cry again.

“Eddie, you said something in the alley.” Steve said morosely. He glanced at Wayne, unsure if he should ask in front of him. Before he could, there was a knock on the door. The doctor opened it a few seconds later. She was a short, older black woman, about Wayne’s age. Her long salt and pepper hair was pulled back into a braided bun.

“Hello Eddie. I’m DR. Kate. I need to check your vitals, do a quick exam, and ask you some questions. Is that okay?” He stiffened. He’s always hated Doctors. “Your Uncle told us you’d be more comfortable with a female doctor. Is that true or would you prefer a male?” She smiled at him kindly.

“He’s right.” Eddie said. “You can check me out.” He’d been wary of men since his father, which was why he pushed himself to go out last night. Or a few nights ago. Look at all the good that did him.

“Okay, I need everyone who isn’t family to step out please.” She said to the room, though it was obvious she was talking to Steve. Eddie’s heart picked up, the monitor going crazy. He grabbed Steve’s hand so tight his knuckles turned white.

“No, no. Don’t make him leave.” He cried out. His eyes welled with tears and he willed them not to fall. Seeing his reaction, DR. Kate pursed her lips.

“One moment.” She turned and walked out of the room without another word. The three men looked at each other the confusion clear on all of their faces. Dr. Kate came back with a sheet of paper she handed to Wayne. “Sorry Eddie. Since I haven’t done an exam on you yet, and you have a head injury, I can’t say if you are in good mental capacity to consent; however, if you Uncle signs this form, this young man can stay in the room.” Everyone turned to Wayne. The ball was in his court.

He looked at his nephew, then back to Steve. Steve has always been good to Eddie, not to mention he saved Eddie. With no hesitation, he signed the line, giving Steve permission. The doctor took the form and moved to Eddie’s side. “I’m going to need the two of you to step back from Eddie please.” She said with a warm smile towards Eddie. Wayne unwrapped himself from his nephew. Steve tried to take his hand away but, he was still white knuckling Steve’s hand. The boys made eye contact and Steve melted at the trust in Eddie’s eyes.

“Don’t worry Eds. I’ll be right over there next to your uncle, and I’ll come right back over if you ask. Doctor be damned.” He said not taking his eyes off him. “No offense Dr. Kate.” He said towards the doctor. She just laughed. That seemed to reassure Eddie that Dr. Kate could be trusted. He finally let go of Steve’s hand and allowed him to step back. Dr. Kate pulled out a flashlight and went through a few questions. Other than the few seconds the light was in his eyes, Eddie kept Steve in his sights. He always felt safer with Steve.

Steve never took his eyes off Eddie, making sure he knew he was there for him. Wayne looked between the boys who only had eyes for each other. He smiled to himself, but was a bit worried about the doc. If she noticed the boys, she didn’t say anything.

“You have a moderate concussion. Do you feel a bit foggy?” She asked. Eddie nodded. “I thought so. Don’t worry, that’s normal. The wound on your head needed ten stitches, there are a few scrapes that needed some cleaning, and your right shoulder is sprained. You have several bruises, but nothing too bad.” After she was done with her physical exam, she grabbed a stool and sat next to Eddie. “You were asleep due to blood loss from the head wound, plus the sedation we had to use when you woke up agitated.” She took a deep breath. “Eddie, can you tell me what happened?” She asked gently. Eddie shook his head. “You don’t remember what happened or you don’t want to talk about it?” She asked. The distinction was very important. Eddie couldn’t speak so he held up two fingers, indicating the second thing she said. “Okay Eddie.” She gently grabbed his hand. “Can you look at me please?” He made eye contact with her. She gestured to her coat and pulled open the collar. Inside was a small rainbow pin. Eddie relaxed a bit.

“Steve?” He called. Steve came over right away and Eddie grabbed his hand. “I was at The Hideaway, and I danced with some people. Afterwards, some men followed me outside and they tried to” he trailed off. Steve squeezed his hand and Eddie took a deep breath. “Tried to hurt me, I didn’t know what to do it was five on one. I tried to fight them, but I couldn’t. One of them grabbed me by the throat, the others laughed.” He stopped again. His eyes were far away like he was lost in the memories.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. “Stay here, Eddie.” Eddie nodded as his eyes cleared. He went on to explain to the doctor all that he could remember.

“I was scared.” He whispered. Unable to hold them back anymore, tears rolled down his face. “Terrified. I figured they’d kill me before they let me go. That’s when Steve showed up.” He took a harsh breath. “I was going to let them.” The shame swept through him again. Red hot and ice cold. He pulled his hand from Steve’s and buried his face in them. “I was going to let them just take...take what they wanted so they’d leave faster.” Sobs shook his body, loud and horrid. Dr. Kate set her hand gently on his arm. Despite the soft touch, Eddie still jumped about a foot. “If I hadn’t danced with them-” At that Dr. Kate shushed him.

“Hey, this is not your fault, sweetie. At all okay?” She reminded Eddie of Joyce. “You’re the victim here.” She reassured. Eddie’s lip wobbled before he launched himself into her arms. She held him, rubbing her hand up and down his back, and rocked slowly back and forth. “Shhh”she whispered as she did her best to soothe the boy. Eddie held on tight until his eyes dried. He didn’t move just yet.

“Thank you. No one’s ever said that to me before.” He said, muffled into her shoulder. She didn’t like the sound of that.

“Has something like this happened before Eddie?” She asked quietly so only he would hear. He stiffened in her arms, but still held tight. He made a noise in affirmation. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she asked a question instead. “Are you going to press charges?”

“I..don’t think so.” He admitted. He should, he knew he should, but the thought of going through all that when all he wanted to do was forget...no.

“If you choose to, I can help. But it is your choice.” She promised.

Normally, she wouldn’t stay with a patient this long, but Eddie wasn’t a typical patient. He may be 21, but he was still a child. A scared boy in need of comfort. She’d seen too many scared boys like him in her hospital and she’d be dammed if she’d abandon him when he needed her.

Finally he pulled back and thanked her shyly. Reassuring him that it was not a problem, she recommended he talk to a professional. “If you need help finding someone...safe” she said tapping her jacket. “I can give you a hand.” She gave his forehead a kiss before she left the room.

Eddie dropped his hands into his lap and fidgeted with his rings. Even though Dr. Kate was understanding, he still felt dirty. Like he was a used tissue. He felt the bed dip and saw Steve sitting on the edge. He held his hand palm side up on the bed, a silent invitation. One Eddie wasn’t ready to accept yet. Steve tried to catch his eye but he couldn’t meet them. “You can get the girls.” He said as he wrapped his arms around his torso.

Steve looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it before he headed back to the lobby. Eddie watched him go then turned to his uncle.

Wayne saw the emptiness in his eyes and jumped up, immediately climbing back into the hospital bed with his nephew. Eddie curled up tight on Wayne’s lap, making himself as small as possible so he’d fit under his chin.

They stayed that way even as the door opened and Steve and the girls came in. Chrissy gasped and dashed towards the bed. With no hesitation, she climbed in with Eddie and Wayne laying her head on Eddie’s arm. “Hey Chris.” Eddie said as he pulled her into his side. “I’m alright.”

“What happened?” She asked. There was no point in asking if he was hurt, it was obvious.

When Eddie didn’t speak, she sat up. His eyes were closed, but the tears spilled out anyway. The sight made her own eyes tear up.

“Oh, Eds.” She whispered. He didn’t need to say anything. There was a throat cleared nearby and she glanced to the side to see that Robin and Steve came closer. She could tell Robin wanted to ask questions but she gave her a look and she backed off.

Robin put her hand on Eddie’s elbow and Steve held his other hand. Even though he was broken, Eddie was surrounded by love. He was so grateful. “Thank you.” He whispered.

__________

Eddie was discharged on Tuesday. Steve rarely left his side for more than a few minutes the entire time.

The longest was the hour talk he had with the hospital therapist. With everything he’d been through, she recommended he start going regularly. When he mentioned he lived in Hawkins, she grimaced and offered to be his therapist as long as he didn’t mind driving to Indy every few weeks. He agreed and they scheduled an appointment.

For the most part, Eddie was out of it, staring blankly at the wall. He forced himself to eat and talk when he was talked to, but he didn’t start conversations. As he was wheeled out to Wayne’s truck, he finally spoke up. “What about my van?” He asked. Steve agreed to drop Chrissy and Robin off at his van so they could bring it home. The plan was to meet back up at the trailer for lunch. Wayne insisted to thank his friends for being there for him.

Eddie was thankful for everyone, he was, but he hated himself for putting himself into the situation. He needed time to be alone. He just wasn’t sure what he’d have to say to Steve to get it.

He appreciates Steve. Really he does. But he doesn’t think he can tell Steve the truth.

Lunch was...to be frank Eddie didn’t’ remember much of lunch. The girls and Steve met them at the trailer, everyone laughed and joked and did their best to pretend like Eddie hadn’t just been in the hospital. It was harder than he expected to participate. He tried to play it off like he was just tired, but the drugs wore off and he remembered more of that night.

He hated himself for not being more aware of his surroundings, of just dancing with whoever without thinking. He hated himself more than anything that he went alone and didn’t tell anyone where he was...he was so lucky Steve was nearby. He wanted to thank him but he was so embarrassed and he didn’t want Steve’s pity.

By the time everyone was leaving, Eddie was exhausted. “Do you want me to stay the night Eds?” Chrissy asked. It was something they’d done before to help with the nightmares. He looked at her big eyes and wanted to say yes. He really did. But he shook his head anyway before waving goodbye to them all and locking himself in his room.

He lay awake that night, lost in the memories he’d rather forget.

____________

A week later, Eddie visited Steve at family video. It was the first time he’d left the house since the incident has he’d come to call it. It wasn’t unusual, visiting Steve, after everything with Carver and especially after the club...Eddie needed to feel safe and Steve was his safety.

“Do you want to come over tonight, we can watch one of the Star Wars.” Steve suggested as he restocked the shelves.

“Sure. But not the third one.” Eddie sighed. They watched it every time because…

“But that one has the teddy bears!” Steve and Eddie said together. Eddie more teasingly than Steve’s indignation. Steve laughed but before he could say anything else, the bell above the door rang.

“Be right with you!” Steve called. He quickly laid down the tapes in his hands and went to the front, with Eddie not far behind. But the person behind the counter made Eddie’s bones chill.

Billy Hargrove stood cockily with his hip popped against the counter. Eddie ducked behind the shelf nearest him, hoping he hadn’t been spotted.

“What can I get you, Hargrove?” Steve sighed. Billy sneered in distaste.

“Heard you were friends with Munson.” Eddie’s breath caught. Oh, god. Why was Billy asking about him?

“And if I am?” Steve answered, voice low. Billy just huffed a laugh.

“I heard he got into some trouble, just wanted to make sure he’s okay.” Billy laid the charm on thick. Eddie swallowed against the bile in his throat. That dick didn’t care about him, he must want something.

“He’s fine.” Steve reassured coldly, doing his level best not to glance in Eddie’s direction. Steve didn’t know exactly what was going on, but the fact that Eddie hid from the man, told him it was better to keep them apart.

“Well, tell him I’m looking for him. For old time’s sake.” Billy laughed as he exited the video store. Steve followed him to the door, locked it behind him, and flipped the open sign to closed.

“He’s gone, Eds.” Steve called as he calmly walked toward Eddie’s cowering form. “You’re safe.” Eddie sagged against the shelves, tucked his knees up to his chest, and sobbed into his knees.

“He’s never going to leave me alone, is he?” He whispered. Steve sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“What’s he want from you, anyway?” Steve asked. Eddie sighed. He should really tell someone, and Steve was safe. He felt safe.

“You promise you won’t tell anyone?” Eddie plead.

“I promise.” Steve said. “Do you want to go to my house?” He offered. Eddie shook his head violently.

“It’s happened at your house.” He admitted. “I’ve never told anyone but Wayne this.”

“Take your time.” Steve said softly, his hand began rubbing soft circles into Eddie’s shoulder.

“Do you remember that night in the alley? When I said not again?” Eddie began. At Steve’s nod, he continued. “It started with Billy. It’s actually one of the reasons I stopped selling.”

“Wait, is this about you getting paid for sex?” Steve asked shocked. He’d heard the rumors, everyone had. But he didn’t really believe them. Eddie sobbed harshly as tears spilled freely down his cheeks.

“I didn’t want to.” Eddie whispered. “And not in the ‘oh god I have to do this to survive’ kind of way. But, in the…” He paused. Steve rubbed his back which helped him calm down. “I met Billy in the woods for a deal and asked me if I’d accept sex instead of money for weed. I said no. He asked if he could pay me for it instead. I said no again. But he didn’t like that.” His eyes glazed over, as he got lost in the memories.

“Eds?” Steve whispered pulling him back to the present. Eddie sighed.

“He grabbed me, held me against a tree. Took what he wanted. It hurt a lot, I bled some. Then he tucked $20 into my pocket and walked away. Left me there with my fucking pants down.” Eddie wiped his eyes and leaned his head back.

“I’m so sorry.” Steve whispered.

“I took the money. We needed it. I never said anything about it to anyone except Wayne. Didn’t bother going to the hospital, no one would’ve believed that I didn’t want it. I refused to sell to him for a while. But, he cornered me one day, told me if I didn’t give him what he wanted, he’d take it out on Gareth.” Eddie choked out. He turned to Steve and held tightly to his hands, imploring him to understand. “I couldn’t let Billy hurt him. So, I let him do whatever wanted to me. It wasn’t so bad, after a while. I learned how to just shut it all out. Pretend I was somewhere else.”

Steve sat horrified on Eddie’s behalf. He never should have gone through this, never should have been put in this position.

“Eddie…” Steve sighed. He didn’t know what to say.

“It got worse after he told Tommy.” Eddie whispered. “The two of them would come to deals together or separate but, they both...It was the prom after party at your house in ‘83. I didn’t want to go but, I needed the money. Tommy and Billy, locked me in the laundry room with them and...you know.” Eddie mumbled.

“Oh, god. Eddie. I’m so sorry.” Steve said emphatically. “If I had known, I would have put a stop to it.” Steve felt sick. He saw Eddie stumble out of the laundry room that night, looking broken and Steve thought maybe he just got too fucked up on his own supply. But now, knowing what he knew he wanted to break something.

“It’s not your fault Steve.” Eddie promised. “After they graduated, it was easier to avoid them. I stopped dealing, got a job at the mechanic’s so I would be harder to corner. Tommy and Billy moved away for school and I haven’t seen them since.” He shrugged even as he barely breathed. “I guess Billy’s back or he heard from Tommy what happened...I don’t know.” He curled up even tighter.

“Listen to me. I am not going to let anything happen to you again.” Steve said determinedly. “No one will lay a hand on you like that again.” Eddie stared hard at Steve’s face, looking for any hesitance but he didn’t see any. He saw something he couldn’t name, a fondness he’d seen on the other man’s face a few times.

“Promise?” Eddie asked.

“I promise.” Steve swore.

_____________

Steve made good on that promise not even a day later. Eddie, Chrissy, Robin, and Steve were spending the day at the trailer; with Eddie’s permission, Steve had filled the girls in on the club and the events that led to his rough time at the video store. Eddie would have been embarrassed but unfortunately it was a story the girls were all too familiar with.

Steve gazed at Eddie fondly as he talked with the girls. A movie played softly as they talked, doing there best to keep Eddie’s mind off everything, when a familiar Camero pulled up outside.

“I’ll take care of this.” Steve said as he stepped outside to stand guard on the Munson’s porch. The three people left inside peaked through the window to watch the confrontation.

“Is that you, Harrington?” Billy scoffed. Steve sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” Steve put his hands in his pockets calmly. Billy slammed the car door and Eddie flinched back from the window. His hands started shaking but he couldn’t stop.

“Munson home?” He asked.

“Why you asking?” Steve glared. Billy stepped up the porch steps until he was toe to toe with Steve.

“I just want to say hi.” He scoffed. Steve put two fingers against the other man’s chest and pushed lightly.

“He’s not home.” Steve said pointedly. Billy snorted and his eyes clicked to the window behind Steve’s head.

“I can see him in the window.” Steve swore under his breath.

“Just leave him alone.” Steve implored. Billy glared, reared a fist back, and slammed it into Steve’s nose knocking him back a few stumbling steps. He shouldered past and burst through the door.

Eddie gasped and back up a few steps until his back hit the wall. Chrissy and Robin stepped in front of him, but Billy was too strong for them to hold back and they fell to the floor.

“Leave me alone, Billy. I mean it.” Eddie spit out between gritted teeth. Billy smirked as he stalked forward. Before he could close in, Steve came up behind him in a tackle taking them both to the ground.

As they grappled, Eddie ran to his room and grabbed Steve’s nail bat. When he got back, Billy was straddling Steve, wailing on his face as the girls tried to pull him off. With a roar, Eddie swung the bat into Billy’s arm tearing into the muscle fiber. Billy screamed in a weird pleasure/pain and turned to glare at Eddie.

“Leave me alone!” He screamed again as he raised the bat. Steve rolled into Billy’s legs sending him to the ground again. Eddie swung the bat down between Billy’s legs and glared at the man.

“If I ever hear from you again, I’ll cut off your balls.” He growled. “Got it?” Billy sighed but Eddie lifted the bat and aimed it at his crotch. “Got it?!” He shouted.

“Got it.” Billy sighed. Steve watched Eddie in awe; the lights from the trailer shone behind him like a halo and he looked so strong and regal. It wasn’t the time, but Steve thought he looked beautiful.

“You better call your friend Tommy and tell him the same goes for him. Now get the fuck out of my trailer.” Eddie said as he stepped back, still holding a defensive position. Billy groaned but rolled to his feet and shuffled awkwardly out of the home, tail tucked between his legs.

Eddie didn’t relax until he heard the Camero pull away but even then, it was Steve pulling the bat from his grip that allowed him to crumble. Steve held him closely, keeping him safe.

“Did I just do that?” He asked in awe of himself.

“You did it, Eddie.” Steve whispered. Robin held him tightly on the other side.

“I just did that.” He laughed and started crying happily. The shame he felt at letting it happen before seemed to lift as he finally found the courage to stand up for himself.

“I doubt you’ll ever hear from either of them again.” Chrissy said as she too joined the hug.

“I’m free.” He sobbed.

“You’re free.” Steve whispered. Eddie held tightly to his arm.

“I’m safe.” He said as he laughed some more. “Thank you, Stevie. For keeping me safe.” He said to the man.

“You saved yourself.” Steve implored. Eddie smiled.

“I guess I did.”

tags

@katyawriteswhump

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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

Text

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

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whump-since-2010 · 1 year ago

Text

Butterfly Whumpee - Inhuman

(Check tags for tws)

Whumpee finished her song, wincing back a cough as her throat scratched on the last note, and she faltered. Her eyes darted to his as a scowl tugged down on the corners of his eyes and lips. She shrank in on herself, the sudden urge to cover her body overcoming her in a moment at his disdain.

Cold exposure pricked beneath her skin, and a shiver raced down her spine. Icy steel of the chain cuffs stinging her flesh as a movement pulled them slack, and she gasped, choking on air.

"Come here."

Whumpee hesitated, trembling as she looked down. She opened her mouth, but the chain around her neck yanked her to her knees

"I said, Come here. Not speak. You're not a person, you're a pet, and pets obey orders."

Whumpee broke into a coughing fit, her throat burning as she shivered.

Whumper's cold fingers found her shoulder and gently trailed from her collarbone to her jaw, and forced her face within a few inches of his nose.

His other hand found the tentacle-like tendrils in place of her hair as his thumb brushed over her lips. "You're a destroyer. You're dead at a lift of my finger. You are mine."

Whumpee tensed, but Whumper yanked her chains tighter and slid his hands to her neck, hard ice on soft golden brown. "Open those wings for me, bug. You know you want to."

Whumpee grunted softly and shuddered into another coughing fit. She flinched away from him, but a clank of chains yanked her back.

His knuckles cracked across her skin in an instant. She cried out, collapsing onto her hands and knees. Blood trickled slowly from her flat nose.

"You're a monster, bug. A destroyer. It's in your name. You were never meant to live. The only reason I kept you is because I like the way you look. The more you disobey me, the uglier you get. First, the legs, now your pretty face. If you don't use those ears of yours, you'll cost nothing by the time I'm done with you."

Whumpee whimpered softly.

"You do sound so sweet when you beg." His nails dug into her tendrils. "You're losing time."

Whumpee's wings trembled open at his threat, and Whumper's face flashed into a smile. She closed her eyes as he moved her body where he wanted it, trailing a hand along the bone of her wing. He pulled her into a kiss, lips whispering over her skin as the words brushed her tongue. "Good girl."

Please comment... I would love it if you did :) - (Story changed, this one is more of a sample now than an actual installment)

First ||<<Prev|| Masterpost ||Next>>

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goesaroundcomesaroundwhat · 2 months ago

Text

Inspired by Arkham Prince anons on @frownyalfred’s blog. An AP Bruce Wayne au where he is kept in Arkham Asylum because of a lot of murder.

#bruce wayne #AP Bruce Wayne #arkham prince #Arkham Prince Bruce Wayne #arkham asylum #tw: suggestive #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #tw: implied abuse #tw: implied sa

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evilwriter37 · 1 year ago

Note

Finally got around to writing this!!!

Rated: mature

Warnings: past rape/noncon, sexually transmitted infections

Relationships: Hiccup & Toothless, Hiccup & Stoick, Hiccup & Gobber, Hiccup/Astrid/Ruffnut/Tuffnut/Snotlout/Fishlegs

Word Count: 1,097

Summary: Hiccup couldn't have known he was sick with the Sweet Death, as he had an asymptomatic case, but now he's passed it on to the other Dragon Riders, and he feels horrible about it.

#asks #writing ideas list ask game #whump #angst #angst with a happy ending #implied/referenced rape/noncon #the ot6 #hiccup/the dragon riders #httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd rtte #rtte #race to the edge #fanfiction #writing

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ramshead-shackles · 23 days ago

Text

This is a WIP, but I wanted to share it. Big warnings are as follows: torture, mild cannibalism, and implied noncon.

————————-

Darkness had long since fallen before Ivetha had the wherewithal to realize what had happened. She felt drowsy, as if sleep still longed to pull her back under, and it took her longer then it should have to realize she wasn’t in her warm bed; but was in fact dangling from the rafters of a long abandoned shack.

The pain in her shoulders seemed to rise in intensity as she processed this information, and the cold started to set in. The Gold Coast wasn’t a particuarly cold area of Cyrodiil, in fact one could comfortably travel at night without too much precautions, unlike in Bruma. But dangling unclothed and unarmored made the Dunmer feel exposed in a way she hadn’t felt before, and her fear did little to keep the gathering chill off her skin.

Where was she? What had happened? It all seemed a distant blur. Movement caught her eye, and she grunts as she turns her head to look. Sitting idly with her feet propped up on a small, round table, sat an Imperial woman in familiar black robes. Long, dirty blonde hair fell out from the pushed back hood, and as the woman turned to look at Ivetha, she was struck with recognition.

Fear was rising in her stomach, threatening to expel its contents. She remembered this lady from the night before..vaguely. They’d met in an inn, she’d been waiting for Sekhet to return so they could continue traveling to Elsweyr, and then..

“You! You spiked my drink!”

“And you didn’t check it.” The Imperial’s voice was smooth, though there was a hint of glee in her words as she spoke, her face turned to look up at the dangling agent. “I would have thought your type would be extra vigilant, especially outside of Morrowind.” Arquen uncrosses her legs from the table, leaning forward so her elbows were resting on her knees, chin in her hands. “So, how are you feeling? Have your shoulders popped yet, or is it still in the process?”

Grunting with the effort of trying to extract herself from her bonds, Ivetha didn’t respond, her gaze turned upwards to examine the shackles that held her tight, the cold metal digging into her wrists as she jerked and turned. Only succeeding in making herself dizzy as she spun around helplessly, she hisses at the woman as she comes back into view. “What did I do to piss you off so much?!”

Arquen was standing now, an eerie smile on her face as she leans in to the Dunmer, catching her chin with her hand to keep her from spinning back around. “Hm? Oh, nothing. Well, nothing directly, anyways. I know a Morag Tong agent when I see one, and you were just too easy to get to let your guard down. Didn’t think you’d have anything to worry about, did you, honey?” Sharp, deliberately filed nails dug into soft skin, her thumb tracing a faded slash mark scar across the agent’s cheek.

“But, to be completely truthful, it’s not you I care about. Your friend you’re traveling with, you said she was a Khajiit mage, correct?”

Ivetha said nothing, biting her tongue to keep from snapping back with a smart response. So, this was what it had all been about. Sekhet had acquired a price on her head during their time in Morrowind, and had previously had issues with Dark Brotherhood assassins coming after her.

“Who are you?” She finally snarls, wincing as one of the nails drew blood from her cheek.

“Oh, you don’t remember? We had all of the other night to get to know each other.” Releasing her grip on Ivetha’s chin, she bows mockingly. “My name is Arquen. I’m a Speaker for the Black Hand, though I’m sure you’ve pieced that together by now.”

Ivetha had, though very reluctantly. The robes, the apparent vendetta against the Guild, not to even think about the mention of Sekhet…and it all made sense as to why she was in this predicament. And for the first time, she was absolutely terrified of what was to come. Instead of letting her terror show, she forces a laugh. “So, you are Brotherhood, then. Well, if you think that’s going to scare me, you’re dead wrong, s’wit!”

Arquen’s smile widens, her back turned to the angry Dunmer, arranging something on a table just out of sight. “Cute, but I can hear your fear in your voice. Save it for when the rest of the Hand show up, they’ll love the bluster. Me, on the other hand, I just find it annoying.”

Something flashes in the woman’s hand as she finally turns back to Ivetha, an ornate dagger decorated with golden filigree, and deadly sharp. Her eyes shut tight as the blade brushes her left shoulder, leaving beads of blood in its wake.

“You know, I have half a mind to take that tattoo from you, darling, I can just imagine what kind of noises you’d make.” The razor sharp knife brushes the Webspinner’s Mark on her upper shoulder, and Ivetha has to bite her tongue again to keep from yelling. It wasn’t the pain, it was the sacrilege. She lived her whole life, *devoted* her whole life to the Webspinner Mephala; to have her Lady’s mark forcibly removed would bring great shame on her!

“You’re in luck though, I need you alive. At least until you tell me where your friend’s at. And I don’t think you’d survived a skinning, you don’t look that tough. I bet you’d pass out half way through, wouldn’t you?” Arquen was goading her purposefully, trying to get her to speak up so she could hear her gasp as the blade sunk into her again.

Ivetha tries not to fire back, but her temper gets the better of her. “There’s nothing you could do to me that wou-“ her words disappear into a scream as the blade slices deep into her shoulder, slicing right through that intricate mark. Making a clean circle all the way around, Arquen pauses to take in the blood pouring from the wound, and the twitching, writhing muscles now visible beneath the skin.

The knife raises once more, going roughly three inches below the first gash, letting her blade slice into the toned flesh with precision, holding the Dunmer’s arm still with her free hand, for she’d started squirming long before the second cut. “It’d be so easy just to take this bit though, don’t you know that? It’d take, oh, I don’t know, three minutes maybe? Ten if I’m slow about it.” As if to make a point, the knife edge found a flayed flap of skin, slipping under it a few centimeters; just enough to see the mer writhe again.

“You woul-ldn’t dare!” Ivetha gasps, wincing in pain as the blade slices off a small piece of her skin. She watched as the blade was raised to the woman’s lips, and she ate the bloody strip without a single look of disgust. The mer, however, felt her stomach churn again, this time with disgust *and* fear.

In an act of defiance she wouldn’t have been spurred to before seeing her own severed flesh being eaten, Ivetha pulls her legs up in one, practiced movement, kicking with all the strength she could muster. Arquen rears back as the mer’s bare foot smashed against her chin, nicking herself with her own blade.

“Oh, so that’s it is it?” She growls, dabbing experimentally at her bloodied cheek. “Cute that you think you can put up a fight, let’s make sure you can’t though, hm?” With a swift reaction, Arquen cracks her hand against Ivetha’s cheek, sending the Dark Elf spinning in her shackles again.

Stepping away while her hostage was preoccupied with trying not to throw up, she secures a length of rope from the table, moving quickly to bind the mer’s legs, tying them tightly so they were bent at the knee, enough to cut off circulation if she struggled enough. Finally, a strip of familiar blue fabric was tied tight around the elf’s mouth, silencing her angry outbursts. It took Ivetha a moment to realize why the fabric was familiar, but it hit her all at once; her bandana. The bitch must have ripped it up and put it to use now.

Arquen all but purrs into her ear as she works, even going so far as to wrap both arms tight around Ivetha’s waist once she was done, feeling her struggling all the while. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, or I would have just killed you there and been done with it. Information or not, we’ll find her sooner or later, especially now that she’s in Cyrodiil. Tell me, where were you two going? Obviously not here, you mentioned something about passing through on your way somewhere else.”

The dagger had been drawn once more, Arquen’s left hand coming up to hold it to the Dunmer’s neck. She could feel her all but shaking beneath her touch as she traces the sharp edge against tender flesh, leaving pearling beads of blood behind her. “You should think on that while you have the chance.” The blade raises from the agent’s neck, but only for the tip of the blade to be put to the corner of her right eye.

“Usually, I like to blind my victims first. But it’d be a shame if you couldn’t see what I’m about to do to you.” Instead, she settles for running the blade from the corner of Ivetha’s eye, down her cheek.

Squealing through her gag, Ivetha’s eyes were wide with terror as the blade came dangerously close to fulfilling Arquen’s threat of blindness. Pain erupted across the side of her face, and tears were streaming unbidden down her pretty, bloody cheeks.

Trying to pull her head away from the knife, Ivetha can’t contain a sob when the Speaker’s hand caught her chin again, holding her fast. “Awww, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Crying already? Don’t think it’ll make me go easy on you. Didn’t your beloved guild teach you how to hold up to torture?”

They had, of course, but that had been ages ago, when she’d first joined the Morag Tong as a trainee. It’d been one of their first lessons, how to endure pain without letting it undo you. And yet, this was different. This wasn’t torture for information on what felt like her family, it was for information on a Khajiit she..wasn’t even sure if she really loved or not. Forced to sit with her pain and thoughts as Arquen steps away for a moment, she was more afraid of what she’d divulge as more time passed. And were there other people coming? She’d mentioned something about the Black Hand…

Ivetha didn’t want to give up Sekhet’s secrets, but she was growing increasingly worried about what she’d do to save her own skin. She had to find some way out of this.

The door to the shack clicked as it was unlocked and opened, a robed figure stepping inside. Mathieu Bellamont hadn’t been a Speaker for very long, only taking the mantle after the previous one had died mysteriously while fulfilling a contract. Mathieu had happily stepped up from his role as Silencer to fill the vacant spot on the Black Hand, and he’d made a fair impression on Arquen. So, out of everyone who could have arrived first, she was pleased to see it was Bellamont.

“Ahhh, perfect timing Brother. Come here, hold her still while I do this. It would have been much harder alone.” Something orange caught the corner of Ivetha’s eye, and she turns to try and look, but it was too far out of sight. Settling for looking wide eyed at the new man that had entered, she takes in his appearance.

He was tall, but genuinely unremarkable in his looks. Pale and a bit gaunt, the Breton had a bit of an odd look in his eyes, but as soon as she’d noticed it, the look was gone. She longs to ask questions, but the gag holds her fast. Instead, she whimpers a bit as his rough hands come up to grope her bare breasts. “Happily, what are you thinking?” His hands moved down to her waist, his grip tight enough to bruise on its own. “Morag Tong you said?”

“Yeah, funny isn’t it? You’d think one of their agents wouldn’t be so stupid. I guess there’s a reason she left Morrowind, huh?” Something hot was lingering just out of view to Ivetha’s right, she still couldn’t see it, as Arquen was keeping it out of view, but whatever it was, it was hot.Blistering enough that she could feel its heat from where she dangled a foot or so away. Sweat started to bead at her forehead as she squirms, feeling Bellamont’s hands tightening around her waist, crushing air from her lungs.

The gag was removed as Arquen approached again, and she finally brought the branding iron into view, letting the terrified elf beg at the sight. “Now, do me a favor, stay with me here. If you pass out so soon, I’m not going to be happy.”

The iron glowed red, shaped like an intricately designed hand; and a split second before it did, Ivetha knew what was going to happen.

The scalding iron sunk into her already injured arm, almost completely covering the Mark of Mephala there, branding her with the Black Hand instead.

#wip #okay there’s gonna be a lot of tags here #so if I miss something bare with me #tw: torture #tw: cannibalism #ehhh mild cannibalism #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #if I’m missing something let me know #ivetha: spider’s touch

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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

Text

Okay I got some sleep- here’s pt. 2 of my nightmare:

——

They spoke to each other as they moved, the surroundings that had egregiously attacked the group of heroes earlier easily parted way for his sister.

‘How has everything been, habibi?’

They talked to each other in a language known only to them. The rest of the Justice League team, the members of this mission: Batman, Flash, Superman, and Zatanna did not understand the signs, a feat worthy of his sister.

‘Alright. They are not bad. I like it here.’ He told her, eyes not quite wary but fear of disappointing her running through his small frame apparent all the same. ‘I would… like to stay.’

She ruffled his hair once more, wistfulness growing in her heart. How her little brother had grown. It seemed like yesterday she held him as a babe, swaddled in even more opulent green and gold silks than her own clothing. Now, he stood in front of her, daring to express his own thoughts with a domino over his face and strength of free will in his eyes. ‘That is good. I am glad you are happy.’

Batman lurched forward to stop her from touching Damian, only to freeze as his son accepted the touch without a hint of resistance. Even Dick couldn’t get that reaction, not without some grumbling and scowling. Who was this…?

The rest of team agreed to wait and watch. Part of it was strategy. Most of it was the wonder of a such Bat-like Robin being so open with someone.

‘Have you been here before?’ Damian, relaxed as she all but gave him her blessing to stay with father, peered at the local fauna as it bowed away from her sister. She shrugged, his katana sheathed on her back. She was at ease with it as he was with her blade, the training they did to get there unwavering despite the time they spent apart.

‘Sometimes. The tower we’re headed to, I often go there to relieve stress by training with the monsters there. They like to… attack everything that moves.’

Something told Damian it was more of a one sided massacre on his sister’s part.

‘Why would the magician hide there?’

‘It would serve adequately as a natural barrier, should he have a safe space put there ahead of time.’ His sister tilted her head, masked face still in the way he knew meant that she was thinking. Her hands moved. ‘Perhaps it was Grorgiantue that attacked you. He often goes there to experiment with alchemy and demonic remains. He often wears a maroon headband.’

“That’s him.” Damian confirmed.

“Are you going to clue us into what you’re saying, you two?” The Flash zoomed around the pair, skidding to a stop in front of them. Damian’s sister simply stepped around him, slicing apart a thorn bush that attacked when it got startled by the Flash’s speed. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as Robin scowled at him and the unknown ally spared him one quick, neutral glance of displeasure.

“No. Do not ask again, you eavesdropper.” Damian curtly replied, surly Robin mask back up.

“Robin.” Father reprimanded. Damian acknowledged it, but did not offer an apology. His sister remained silent and watching.

She’s relying on him to navigate these allies, Damian realized. His shoulders went back at the show of trust. He does not acquiesce to Father’s silent command. Had it been Richard… perhaps.

“Ouch, but still, if your… friend knows what’s up ahead, it’s be good to let us know.”

“We do need to take care of this as fast as possible, Robin. And we’re not the best team against magic.” Superman hovered. He would have gone and scouted ahead, but magical planes always had nasty surprises that he found extremely hard to escape.

“Speak for yourself,” Zatanna joked. Regardless, she looked askance at Damian’s sister.

Damian scowled and opened his mouth. His sister placed a hand on his shoulder and Damian sighed, readying himself to act as a translator. He knew she could sign in practically every standard sign language there was, damn it. She’s lucky he loved her enough to be a translator when she’s unwilling to socialize.

——

“Your sword,” Damian tried to hand her sword back. Her little brother, for a genius, was an idiot. She huffed, pushing the sword back.

‘Keep it. How will you cut through a magical tower without a magical sword?’ She signed to him, emphasizing her amusement.

“What about you?”

‘I must report back. I am... a bit late. I’ll see you later, habibi.’ She tapped her hand four times. A reminder that she cared about him. Before she disappeared through a swirling portal of mist grey and acrid blue, she saw him repeat the sign.

Behind her mask, she smiled.

——

“Who was that, Robin?”

Robin stared up at Batman. Damian Wayne stared up at his father.

“She... protected me.”

Not quite an answer. But it was an olive branch, to tell him who she was to Damian himself, but not who she truly was in relations to Damian.

“That’s it?”

“That is all you’re getting.” He replied, hands tightening around the hilt of his sister’s sword. Her magic hummed beneath his fingertips, the feeling of indescribable violence softening to a sense of protectiveness the moment the sword felt his presence. Damian respected Father. He might even love him. But Damian loved his sister first, and he would not betray her trust.

A new file is added to the database. Nightwing gets an update. When a familiar masked face pops up, Dick Grayson sped out of Bludhaven to interrogate his littlest brother.

And so the wheels turned.

——

“Tell me, granddaughter, what it is you truly think of me.”

Despite the conversational tone, she knew it was an order. The scars on her back burned, a reminder of another rebellion and the cost of failure.

There were many, many ways she could answer. All of them unpleasant. Yet, she must be pleasant. He must hear how she’d been broken, or else he’d keep trying to break her.

She tilted her head down, so he would not glimpse the hatred brewing in her eyes.

“I respect you, grandfather.” Because she did respect his ability to bend her at his will, for all that she hated him. It took a special kind of scum to be so cruel to one own blood. “I wish to obey your every order.” Because if she didn’t, pain would follow. But that wish was a temporary one, only in effect until she managed to kill him and come out on top.

Ra’s laughed, a warm and rich sound. Hollow, because he loved none but himself and so only reserved warmth for his own flattery. It sounded like the sharpening of a blade and it felt like balancing on a precipice. On one side, an eternity of torture. On the other, the pain of those she loved. Damian... and maybe, just a little, Talia herself.

"Do you love me, granddaughter?" He crooned, mocking and cruel, in a way one might ask a jilted lover. The reincarnation held her breath and answered. She will not lie. She can not lie, not to him. He had gouged the order into her tongue with magic and brutality. And so, she will not lie.

"No, grandfather. But I do not dislike you." The reincarnation said, soft as velvet. It was true, because what she felt for Ra's al Ghul was the cold, pervasive hatred. "I respect you."

"I see I've managed to beat some of that foolish sentimentality out of you," he said, taking a sip of his wine. Oh, how she wished she could slip poison in his cup. How she wished to make him choke on his own words, his own blood. But she could not. Not. Yet. "Alas, I can not undo the magic. I suspect you'll be serving at my feet for... quite a long time more."

She snapped her mouth closed, phantom rage hovering between her teeth. The world swirled around her, greens and purples, and the revolting touch of his hands on her.

No, she will bide her time.

She knelt, the motion familiar, on plush carpet that she could not appreciate. Luxurious cloth rustled in front of her.

And when her time comes, she will revel in Ra's al Ghul's agonizing death.

——

"Damian, you have to tell me who that is!"

Damian could be stubborn at times, he knew that. He worked with him on it. Damian was as much, if not more, Dick's Robin as he was Bruce's Robin. So why...?

"And for what reason do you wish to know her identity, Richard?"

Dick paused. He couldn't. He couldn't tell him. No one knew, except for that masked person. It happened so long ago- not long enough- and Dick could not wash the taint, could not wash the trauma from his brain, his heart. Whispers that sounded like Catalina surrounded him when he thought of that rainy night, telling him how disgusted his family would be, if they knew. Those things went away, now that he's pulled up the file on the batcomputer. The whispers fade a bit as he looked upon the masked face of the person who saved him. Just in time.

"For your safety!"

Damian crossed his arms, a look that spoke of an unbending unwillingness present in his eyes. Dick knew then that Damian would not tell him. "I will never be in danger if it's her on the other side of the blade."

"Come on, Damian, I won't tell B. Promise. Don't you trust me?"

Damian's face softened, and for a second, Dick had thought that he'd managed it. "I do... trust you." Damian struggled to say. "That is hardly ever in question, you imbecile. But to tell you would mean betrayal. And I will not betray her trust. Especially not for your personal satisfaction."

Dick wondered what this masked woman did for Damian to be unhesitatingly confident in her. He wondered if his own desperation meant something he had yet been able to put into words.

"For what it's worth, Dick, I think we should trust Damian and not pry."

Dick and Damian turned to Tim in surprise. Damian, because it was an unexpected vote of confidence.

"Woah, I do not want to hear that from you, Mr. Tiny Tot Stalker McGee."

"It's called preparation!" Tim said hotly back. Then, he subsided. "She, uh, saved me once. Back then, before I was... associated with Bruce."

"What?" Dick and Damian demanded.

——

Innocuous. The worst and best things always happened on innocuous days.

The beginning of her slavery began on a regular, if painful, sunny day.

The beginning of her freedom began on a regular, if painful, cloudy one.

She'd have to thank the little photographer later, she decided. His work all but forced her grandfather to rely on a handful of backup Lazarus pools only he, mother, and herself knew about. She stared at the green pools as her grandfather stripped to his waist to step in.

"Guard me," he commanded her as he stepped towards the pool. The sting of the command settled familiarly around her neck. “Once I am done, you will depart to force Damian or the detective back to Nanda Parbat. By any means necessary.”

It was his first time ordering her to hurt her brothers, past physical pain disguised as training.

His first mistake today.

That's the thing with her grandfather, she mused as she silently unsheathed Damian's sword. He was so complacent, that he could fathom her betrayal.

His second mistake. His last mistake.

Then again, it was her who lulled him into it, with the shows of loyalty and seemingly willing obedience outside of her magical collar's commands.

After all, he had commanded her to guard him. From outside threats, surely, but he hadn't commanded her to guard him from herself.

"You-!" He coughed as her- Damian's- blade slid in between his ribs and straight towards the other side. It missed his heart by a hair's breadth, Ra's having moved the moment he felt the blade. Truly, it was hard to beat a near-immortal's experience.

"Kill yourself!" He barked at her, clutching at his chest, trying to stumble towards the pool.

To kill herself, she had to remove the blade lodged in his chest. The magic urged her to follow his commands immediately with searing pain. But she's had over two decades to endure and adjust to it, to grit her teeth and learn how to move with the torture of being alive. So she follows it just to dislodge the blade. The reincarnation then, with the magic trying to break her, cripples Ra’s with two blows.

He collapsed, screaming bloody murder and slurs at her. Before he could say another command, she stabbed down and to the side, cutting deep enough to cut his voice box and spill his life-blood, his unceasingly irritating throat, over the craggy rocks surrounding the pool.

Then, she slit her throat with a cut that was a touch too shallow to kill her right away.

"I do not dislike you," she said, the pain easing as she spoke to him. The red she's taken from others now spilled on the front of her shirt. She stared at his enraged glare, vicious glee at making him choke on his own actions. "No, I hate you."

She bent down, twisting and breaking his arms with little effort. She patted his cheeks and raked a trail of pain down his face with her metal tipped gloves. Her blood dripped onto him, blinding his eyes.

Fitting, she'd thought. "No one will come for you, grandfather. But... I do have to ask," She looked down, voice tilting in the cruel way that he'd unintentionally taught her. "Don't you love me, grandfather?"

She walked backwards until she reached the edge of the pool. She knelt once more, a mockery of every time she's knelt for him.

The reincarnation watched his blood spill, the light leave his eyes, and the way his body stilled and the way his rage was stifled like he'd smothered her voice so long ago. She memorized it, because hate was an active emotion. But she was tired, and she wanted to rest. So she watched him die and felt nothing but peace.

Then, as she felt the magic take hold and tear her soul from her body, she tipped backwards and plunged her corpse in the glowing pits that awaited her.

——

It felt like drowning.

(did y’all know cats lay on your chest?? bro i straight up couldn’t breath bc of that)

Breathless. Corrosive. Freeing.

The Pit felt like freedom.

And she’d long forgotten what that felt like.

It tasted like shit water though, and suddenly she felt bad for everyone whoever swallowed some of the water here. She’s going to need her stomach pumped out after this-

Her thoughts were washed away in a haze of green tinted fury.

——

“Habibi.”

Nightwing slid in front of Robin with a well practiced flip. Batman emerged from the shadows, followed Spoiler and Red Robin.

“Talia. What do you want?” Batman growled. Talia ignored him, an uncharacteristic action that had the vigilantes putting their guards up.

“I… you know I would not ask this of you- I would not ask you to return,” Talia said softly.

“Then don’t.” Red Robin cut in sharply, bo staff at the ready. Talia ignored him too.

“But she needs you, habibi. I can not… I can not help her.”

“Who?” Spoiler asked, curious but ready to rumble.

“What happened?” Robin stepped around Nightwing, who made an aborted movement to try to pull Robin back behind him.

“Something terrible.” Talia al Ghul closed her eyes, a sliver of vulnerability and regret showing on her face. Robin straightened, fear thudding through his heart. What happened to ukhti, he wanted to ask. But he could not, not without betraying the promise of silence he’d made to her. “I… I have failed her greatly. And she was paying the price for it, this entire time.”

“Wait, is this about the masked woman?” Nightwing asked.

“Alright,” Robin- no, Damian- stepped forward once more. His decision was made. Had been made, the moment his mother allowed the rare instance of vulnerability to come across her face. “I’ll be going back, once…”

“Of course. She would not let me keep you, habibi. She knows you are happier here.”

“Then, let’s go.”

“Robin!” His family tried to stop him but Damian slipped between and out of their reach. “Do not!”

“I’ll be back,” he declared, like he was daring his mother to say otherwise. “Try not to raze Gotham into the ground with your incompetence.”

“I’ll kill Ra’s if something happens to him.” Red Robin pointed the bo staff at Talia as she and Damian turned to leave. He stopped an alarmed Batman when he tried to lunge for Robin.

“No need,” she threw back. Damian whipped his head up at that. “He’s already dead.”

And they disappeared into a whirling purple cloud of magic.

——

Snippets of reality return to her bit, by bit. Her mother had cautiously entered the pit with her guards- worried, no doubt, by their absence- and stilled upon seeing her father’s dead body.

She laughed, and dug her hands into the bodies of the assassins she’d trained until her nails dripped with blood and pieces of organs. She felled them, one by one, until only mother was left.

She’d attacked, like a rabid dog, until the green slipped and her mother came into focus.

“I killed him,” she’d croaked out. And that was what broke her; the smooth way air wrapped her around her throat where only ripping pain had existed. Her voice came out unhindered and recklessly so, without the tinge of agony carefully picking her sentences.

“I killed him,” she repeated, and set Ra’s al Ghul’s body on fire. “I killed him.”

Her mother stared at her, hands dropping carefully to her side. “Why?”

She smiled, teeth bared and bloody- oh, she must have ripped into an assassin with her teeth, how messy- and endlessly joyful. “Because he dared to chain me- because he threatened Damian.”

She broke, and she told her mother everything. No, not everything. Just, enough. At the end, when her back is bowed with pain and heart empty, her mother knelt before her and quietly, tremblingly, apologized.

“I am sorry, habibi. I…”

The reincarnation’s made a small, wounded noise and lost herself to the green.

——

Damian trembled with rage. With grief.

With regret.

He followed mother into the caverns, mind turning and whirling with everything he’d learned in the hour that had passed since he’d left Gotham. His sister’s inclination towards magic was incredibly helpful, but Damian wished that she had never had the cause to go delving into magic like she did.

He thought it was passion.

His mother had informed him of what Grandfather had done to his ukht all these years. She told him of what his sister had sacrificed so that he remained free.

“Every time she spoke to us, to tell us that she loves us… father had made sure she paid for every word with unceasing agony.” His mother had muttered, eyes more lost than he’d ever seen it. “The magic at her neck ensured that she obeyed unquestioningly or she paid the price.”

“She is paying the price right now,” he’d snapped at her.

“Yes.”

Damian had thought ukhti’s collection of magical tomes were a sign of her interests. He thought it was passion for a subject. He had even envied how she did not have to hide her hobby like he had to with his art.

Now, he knew it wasn’t passion. No, it was desperation; a scrambling for freedom, a wish for dignity, and the fear of the same restrictions being placed on his ukht’s loved ones- him and mother.

When he entered the cave, lit up by swirling, sickly green, he saw his ukht, drenched in blood and sclera, tearing apart another group of assassins. There were ashes and the smell of burnt flesh around them.

Her eyes- green, glazed, furious- turned towards them.

His mother tensed. His ukht lunged, pitted sword aimed at his eyeball.

But if there was anything Damian knew, it was that ukhti would never hurt him.

So he stayed still.

And she stopped. Blade a centimeter from his eyes, his sister stopped.

“Damian?”

How his heart broke when she spoke, confusion in her voice that sounded as if she had been screaming for decades and nobody had heard.

As Damian’s hand wrapped around her wrist and she dropped the sword, he morbidly thought that she might have been doing that. It’s not like they heard her, after all, not until she’d freed herself with broken fingers and steel spine.

——

Bruce paced around in the cave. With the disappearance of their youngest, the entire family gathered in the cave, the night after. Except for Barbara, who had been scouring the cameras and had prior engagements, and Cass, who was on a plane back from Hong Kong, the family watched as Bruce slowly lost his mind.

“Relax, B. Look, even Dickface and Timbers aren’t worried, and you know how they get.” Jason said, kicking his feet up on the table.

“Ahem.”

Jason quickly put his feet down.

“We know nothing about this woman! She could be a danger- she could-!”

“B, if it really is about the masked woman, I think we should give Damian some trust.” Dick spoke up.

“And what if they keep Damian captive?”

“Then we go get him, Bruce. Simple.” Duke said, yawning.

Whatever Bruce would have said next was cut off by the opening of the cave’s underground entrance, with an approving beep of a recognized and authorized entrance.

Damian stalked in, hands wrapping around the hilt of his sword like he was going to cut through the next fool who tested him. His face was in a frown.

“Damian. Are you alright?” Bruce rushed towards his youngest, only to be dodged.

“I need to break something. Then, we shall talk.”

Damian headed towards the training dummies at let out his fury. He let out his heart break. Splinters of wood and cloth and ripped padding laid testament to his grief.

Then, the younger brother of the true heir to the Demon’s Head turned around to speak to his chosen family.

——

Clarity.

Her brother, her fool, dumb brother who had just stood there as she tried to gouge his eyes out, had been exactly what she needed.

She avoided his concerned eyes as she muttered calculations under her breath.

“Ukhti, what are you doing?”

“Freedom, habibi. I am… creating my freedom.”

At his confused look, she made the signs for Pit Rage. He nodded and guarded her back.

Damian was so adorable. And now, now that there’s not collar around her neck, she could say that without awaiting internal agony!

Her mouth spoke the words she’d found all those years ago, magic flaring bright white and blue as the circle she laid down on crumbling rocks shuddered.

The magic soothed her frayed mind and seeped the poison from her mind.

——

“I have a sister.” He’d told them. He turned to his father, who had a blank look on his face. “An older sister. She is yours.”

“You fucked Talia, twice?!”

A scowl. “Keep your trap shut, Todd.”

Bruce felt his world shudder to a stop.

——

Her fingers, her left hand as her right was busy scratching absently at Damian’s head, found purchase on her back and neck. The skin wasn’t so soft anymore, time and scars making for a rougher feel.

There were worse things than death. Bitter, painful things.

Loosing her freedom. Loosing her voice.

But… there were better things than life. Sweet, gentle things.

Regaining her freedom. Getting revenge. Securing her family’s safety and freedom from the grotesque thing that wore the skin of a grandfather.

Her brother, tucked safely against her side, and a mother that finally understood.

“Come to Gotham with me,” Damian had suggested. She hummed, delighting in the way the sound came out with out the ringing pain.

But one does not erase two plus decades worth of trauma in one night.

Her hands came up.

‘Not yet. Mother will think-”

“It is a good idea.”

Her gaze darted up. Her mother’s eyes… softened. Odd. No… her gaze was heavy with guilt.

“It would… do you good to be away from here, my daughter.”

Well.

It’s not like she was opposed to that, at all, but still…

‘Two weeks. I’ll tie up loose ends… and I’ll go to Gotham in two weeks, if that’s alright with you, Damian?’

“Of course.” He leaned against her, hand clutching at her shirt in a motion that she wasn’t sure was meant to comfort himself or her. “May I tell father about you?”

Ah. She hadn’t thought of that. The pit really scattered her mind. She nodded.

——

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

“She asked me not to.”

“And since when did you do things people ask of you, demon brat?”

Damian scowled. It did not make his next sentence any less genuine.

“Since it was ukhti that asked.”

Tim spun around on his wheel chair. “Holy shit. So the masked person was your sister. No wonder you were so….”

Protective, they all finished the rest of the sentence silently. They all sat back to contemplate that Bruce had one more kid… and that Tim had met her before Damian was even born.

“So, why were you so upset, baby bird?” Dick asked, an odd feeling of both gratefulness and mild jealousy towards Damian’s sister- his savior, because holy shit- gathering underneath his heart.

“Apparently, grandfather put her under an enslavement spell all these years.”

“Damian… say that again. I- I must have heard you wrong.”

Damian closed his eyes, hating how unsteady and fearful his father sounded. He obliged, because he knew what it felt like.

“Grandfather put her under an enslavement spell and used her to further the League’s reach.”

Damian had wondered why he had encountered his sister so often while passing by grandfather’s chambers and why she always looked tired when she goes past those ornate doors.

Now he knew.

“Does that- does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes. She,” Damian’s hands gripped harshly on his forearms. He breathed in and out slowly. “She was… assaulted. Most likely regularly. To broker more favorable agreements. She could not refuse. The magic demanded complete obedience or risk the punishment of unbearable pain.”

Dick looked away. They had a lot in common. She saved him… but on her end, she was not saved. His hands itched to punch Ra’s al Ghul in the face.

“Fuck.” Stephanie cursed. Her eyes met Duke’s and Jason’s.

Tim’s hands stopped moving, eyes staring blankly at Damian. He should have tried harder to kill Ra’s al Ghul.

Bruce got up, trembling, and stalked over to the training dummy. They sat in silence.

“What else?” Bruce rasped. He hung his head.

“She was ordered not to speak a word.”

“But she… spoke to me.” Tim said. Damian felt an irrational flare of jealousy.

“Then it most likely caused her unimaginable pain as punishment.” Damian snapped.

“What do we have to do to free her?” Stephanie demanded.

“Nothing, Brown. She freed herself.”

“How?” Duke leaned in, expression serious. “Did Ra’s al Ghul free her before he died or something?”

“I… am not too sure of the details, but it involved killing him… and jumping into the pit.”

Jason stood up with a clatter. “She was in the pit?!

“Yes. I think… she might have died. I’m not… sure.”

Bruce closed his eyes, working on his breathing like Dinah had showed him.

“Is that why Talia came? Because you could stop her pit madness?”

“Yes. I- there-” Damian struggled to get the words out, the ball of upset sitting on his chest made it hard to breathe. “Ukhti would never hurt me. Unless it’s training, but even then, I am sure she fought against her orders to wound me.”

Dick nodded. Yeah. He would have too, if he were in her shoes.

“I… can ukhti come here to recover?”

“Of course. When?” It was at times like this when he appreciated his family’s sentimentality and ridiculously large hearts. Unhesitatingly kind, even when they should have been furious at him for keeping ukhti’s secrets.

“Two weeks.”

“Then we shall make adequate- no, better than adequate preparations. Master Damian, what were her preferences for food?”

——

She should probably prepare a gift. Multiple.

“Ukht.”

She tilted her head to show Damian she was listening.

“I am sorry.”

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’

“But-”

She squeezed his shoulder and forced the words to come out. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have noticed.”

‘I did not want you to notice. If I hid things from you, do you think you could find them so easily?’

“No, I suppose not.”

She smiled at him and tapped her hand four times. He tapped his own four times in response.

——

The dream ended there, well, no, there was actually some more nonsense about a corgi, a room full of strings and slenderman or whatever but I didn’t include that part. There’ll probably be a part three bc I kinda wanna know what happens when she comes to Gotham to recover from trauma.

The oc, relatively well adjusted: *dies*

The oc, reincarnated and got fucked over (figuratively and non consensually literally): “yes, I should go to Gotham (aka trauma central) to recover from my trauma. Sounds legit.”

#Dick Grayson #dick grayson and his gatekeeper gaslight girl boss self #oc in dc #batman #damian wayne’s older sister #damian wayne #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #talia al ghul #ra’s al ghul #ra’s al ghul and the consequences of his actions #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

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