#apparently this is normal if your one of bruce’s wards

[your-local-gothamite]

hey can y’all recommend some games i can play without wifi, i’ve been kidnapped again

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bad Reveal AU Chapter 2 Part 2

As promised! Here's the compilation of every snippet I've written for the 1000 follower ask game. I added an additional 300 words to the end to round out the scene.

Story Summary: Danny loves the Waynes, loves living with them. After the GIW, after his parents, he never thought he'd be able to have this again. A family, a home.

Then he overhears a conversation.

The Waynes aren't just the Waynes. They're the Bats, part of the Justice League. And the Justice League works with the US Government. The same government that runs the Ghost Investigation Ward.

It was all a lie.

AO3 link

Tumblr Links: Chapter 1, Previous

Word Count: 2.6k

-----

Three days later and they were all ready to tear their hair out. Barbara had found nothing new on the Fenton parents, even after Tim and Bruce joined her in the search. Apparently everything about the Fentons had been hidden behind the best digital security they had ever seen. Everything except the basics. And the firewalls were so good that they were almost invisible which is why no one had noticed them before.

Danny’s room lacked any sort of clue. They opened every drawer and went through everything they could find, only for nothing even slightly unusual to turn up. Definitely nothing like the bizarre energy weapon he’d used.

Jason had asked around as Red Hood to see if he could find any leads on the weapon. But every rumor lead to a dead end.

They could find nothing that might lead them to the people who wanted to hurt Danny. And Danny never came home.

Dick was currently in Danny’s room, again, trying to find anything. He was under the bed searching for hidden compartments in the frame or box spring when sharp footsteps sounded in the hall. A moment later, Alfred cleared his throat from the doorway.

“Master Dick! I believe you were instructed to leave the cave so you could rest.”

Dick pushed himself out from under the bed and sat so he was leaning against the bed frame. He flashed a dazzling smile. “Sorry, Alfred. I just had the idea to check the bed frame for any hidden messages or compartments. Wouldn’t have been able to sleep without doing it.”

Alfred sniffed. “We have already been over every inch of this room. You will not find anything new and you know this.”

Dick sighed, letting the smile drop away, and rubbed his face. He looked down at the carpet as he picked at it. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. I just keep seeing his face. He was certain we were going to hurt him, Alfred. My own brother. How could I have failed him so badly?”

Alfred’s shoes came into view as he walked further into the room and sat next to Dick. “You haven’t failed him, Master Dick. And you know that. His fears were his own; based on experiences from before he ever joined this family. And we did not know there were problems to address. But we do now and I have full faith that you will solve this and bring Master Danny back home.”

“I wish I had your optimism, Alfred.”

“Then I shall just have to have enough for the both of us. Now, if you insist on being useful, Titus could use his afternoon walk. Normally Master Bruce or I take care of it…”

“But with B injured and the house full, you’ve got enough to handle. I’ll take care of it, Alfred.”

“Thank you, my boy. Now, help an old man up.”

Dick laughed; it wasn’t sincere, not truly, but he knew it’d make Alfred feel better. “Don’t even pretend you can’t get up on your own.” But he still did as requested and helped Alfred to his feet.

“When you’re my age, you will know what troubles I face.”

“Sure, Alfred. Now, where is Titus right now?”

Ten minutes later, Dick was outside in the late spring sun throwing a tennis ball for Titus. The dog was delighted with the game.

He rather felt like it should be raining or overcast or something. Not a balmy spring day with birds singing and bees buzzing in the clover. Danny was still missing; it shouldn’t be a nice day.

His next throw went much farther than he planned, and Titus bounded away.

Dick groaned and collapsed to the ground. He threw an arm over his eyes as he bit back his tears. Everyone was relying on him to hold it together. Damian was on a hair trigger and he was the only one who could keep him in line consistently; Tim was sunk deep into his research and barely surfacing for another energy drink every few hours; Jason and Bruce couldn’t be around each other for more than ten minutes without someone starting to yell. Duke was spending more and more time on patrol trying to find any information on the meta angle.

And all of them came to him to complain about the others. His family needed him. He couldn’t fall apart.

When a shadow fell over his face, he cracked open an eye expecting to see a cloud covering the sun. Instead he screamed and jumped to his feet as he came face-to-face with Clark.

“Warn a guy next time!”

Clark, the bastard, just laughed at him. “Hey, Dick. Didn’t expect to find you here.”

Before he could reply, Titus returned, ball clenched proudly in his mouth. “Good boy,” said Dick as he petted him. “Ready to go back inside?” To Clark, he said, “Most of us are staying at the manor right now. What brings you here?”

“We’re worried. Bruce called in saying he had an injury that would prevent field work for a few weeks. At the same time, Tim told Kon he’d be unavailable for Young Justice missions until further notice. And Damian canceled a sleepover with Jon with no explanation. So I made two of Ma’s pies and decided to come over for a visit. What’s going on?”

Dick sighed. “Danny’s gone. He discovered who we were.” He let out a hysterical laugh. “And apparently thinks that because we work with the US government it means we were just pretending to like him to gather information so we could turn him over to someone who would hold him against his will and torture him.”

Clark landed and pulled him into a hug. Dick clung on tightly. “Why does he think that?”

Dick shrugged and, reluctantly, pulled away. “Apparently his parents betrayed him once already. I think…” Dick closed his eyes and whistled sharply. “Come, Titus.” He held onto Titus’s collar and began walking away from Clark towards the manor. “We think he already has experience being held and tortured. And that it was his parents fault.”

Clark’s sharp inhale proved his horror at such a thought.

“Yeah. So now Danny’s gone and we have no idea how to search for him. Did B tell you he’s a meta? We knew he had some powers, but clearly we missed some because now we suspect invisibility, density shifting, and flight. So we’re trying to find the people who want to hurt him. But we keep hitting walls!” Titus whined when his grip tightened too much. Dick winced and let go immediately to pet the dog. “Sorry, Titus. You’re such a good boy.”

Clark draped an arm around his shoulders. “Well, why don’t you take me to the cave and you can go over everything you know. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help.”

Dick shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. And maybe seeing you will remind Bruce he knows how to do more than grunt when people ask him a question.”

Clark winced. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse, if I’m honest. Danny shot him with an energy weapon before density shifting out of the cave. So now his newest kid is missing and he’s too injured to go out and search for him.”

Clark let out a low whistle. “Yep. That’ll do it.”

Dick pulled out his phone and opened the group chat. A quick text ensured everyone who was around would make their way to the cave. “I’ve told everyone to meet us in the cave. We’ll swing by the kitchen to get some plates and cutlery for the pie. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Clark ruffled his hair. “You know me, I’m too midwestern to show up anywhere unannounced without food.”

Dick gave a half smile, unable to muster up anything warmer.

Clark tried to keep up a stream of small talk as they swung by the kitchens to gather the plates. But Dick just couldn’t keep up with it. His mind was just too far away, on a young boy with blue eyes who loved hugs and had fit into the family so smoothly.

When they got to the cave, Tim didn’t even look up at the sound of the elevator doors opening. Dick followed his lead and ignored him, instead going straight to Bruce.

“You’ve got a visitor, B!”

Bruce only grunted and didn’t look up from his laptop.

Clark hid a smile. “I’m sure Alfred raised you better than that, Bruce.”

“Indeed I did,” declared Alfred with a sniff from where he was making notes in Bruce’s medical chart.

Bruce’s head whipped up at the sound of Clark’s voice and Dick bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Clark? What are you doing here?”

“Been worried about you and the kids, so I made some pie and decided to come on over. Kon and Jon are both waiting for updates as well.”

Apparently the appearance of Clark and Kon’s name was enough to finally drag Tim from the batcomputer for the first time in days. “Is Kon okay?”

Clark gave him a fond smile. “He’s fine, lad. It’s you—all of you—we’re worried about.”

Bruce looked away. “It’s Danny.”

Clark nodded and sat on the foot of the bed. “Dick’s told me a little. Let’s wait for the others to join us and you can all tell me everything.”

Dick checked his phone. “Babs said my text woke her up and don’t start discussions without her.”

Clark looked at him sharply. “Barbara is here, too? You really meant it when you said everyone’s been staying here, didn’t you?”

Dick shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s Danny.”

Tim laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, he’s the only one who all of us like pretty much all the time.”

Clark frowned as he looked around at the people gathered, but didn’t say anything.

Alfred bustled in with a chair. “If some of you would help me set up chairs for everyone? We might as well be comfortable as we talk and eat.”

“Of course, Alfred,” said Clark, seeming relieved. “Be happy to help.”

Honestly, with how many people were there, it only took a minute. Jason and Stephanie arrived just as they were finishing up.

“Duke messaged me,” said Jason. “He’s on his way back from patrol.”

“Damian?” asked Dick.

“I am here, Richard,” said the boy as he walked into the medbay. “I apologize for my tardiness. I was with Alfred the cat and didn’t notice your message immediately.”

Dick went to his side and ruffled his hair. He ignored Damian’s glare with years of practice. “Glad you could make it. Come on, let’s get you a slice of pie.”

“I’ll start slicing,” said Clark.

By the time the pie was sliced and everyone had a piece, Barbara had arrived.

“Where is Duke?” asked Bruce.

Tim pulled up the tracking information on his laptop. “Looks like he’s only twenty minutes out.”

“He’d’ve said something if he’d learned anything new,” said Jason. “I say we just start sharing now. He’ll be back before we get through it all.”

“Agreed,” said Bruce.

Clark nodded and looked around the room. Dick just knew he was cataloging how exhausted they all looked. “What can you tell me about what happened?”

“Daniel lost his mind and attacked Father,” said Damian.

“Listen here, Demon Brat,” argued Jason, “you know damn well that’s not what happened.”

And when Tim backed up Jason, it became a shouting match. Dick buried his face in his hands. A headache was forming and he knew if he tried to intervene, he’d just make it worse right now.

“Enough!” said Alfred when it became clear the others wouldn’t calm down on their own. “We will go over it one at a time. Master Richard, you may start.”

So Dick gave all the information he knew. When one of the others indicated they wanted to add more, he let them. Alfred made sure no one overstepped. Duke arrived partway through and described what he saw when Danny disappeared and used his powers.

When everyone was finally satisfied they’d shared everything they knew, Barbara pulled out a tablet to show Clark the footage of the confrontation in the cave.

“And you don’t know where he got that weapon?” asked Clark after he watched it twice.

“No clue,” said Tim. “We’ve searched his room a dozen times since then, but there’s nothing even remotely like it.”

Jason nodded. “And I’ve been asking around. No one I can find has ever heard of one like it.”

Alfred added, “Even I was unaware he was in possession of such an object.”

Clark hummed as he replayed the last few seconds of the video where Danny density shifted through the stone. “He brought it with him when he left.”

“You’ve thought of something,” said Bruce.

“Could he have hidden the weapon inside something? Like a wall or the floor?”

Bruce hummed as he thought. “Is that even possible?”

Dick shrugged. “We know very little about what he can and can’t do.”

“Want me to take a look at his room with my X-ray vision?” asked Clark.

Bruce nodded. “Please.” No one commented on the begging tone in his voice.

And for the first time in days, Dick felt hope rising in his chest.

“And do we have any idea what he meant by Jason being in trouble, too?”

Jason shrugged. “Probably has something to do with how I died. I’m apparently the only one who can sense Danny’s empathy, too. And I mean supernatural empathy, not the normal person kind.”

Bruce agreed. “I found the most information on Amity Park when I found my way to supernatural message boards. Zatana is looking into some things for me as well. But it always leads back to ghosts. Though why Jason alone is of interest when others in the family have also died is uncertain.”

“I see. Well, I suppose we’ll find out when you get him home. Who wants to show me Danny’s room? We might as well start there.”

Of course, no one was willing to sit this one out. The biggest argument arose when Bruce insisted on pushing himself to his feet. He refused the wheelchair Alfred tried to insist he use, but a raised eyebrow and pursed lips did get him to take the crutches.

Dick and Jason exchanged a smirk at the scene. Alfred always got his way.

So, the entire group made their way out of the cave and through the halls of Wayne Manor until Clark stopped in the doorway to Danny’s room.

He let out a low whistle. “Whatever his powers are, he can definitely hide things in other objects. He’s left a lot behind.”

“Can you tell what they are?” asked Bruce.

Clark shrugged. “Some of them. There’s another item that looks like that blaster he had. Some…rope? I think? A tool box in the floor. A case that’s probably lead-lined. And a lot of stuff that I just can’t identify. I mean, a random cylindrical object. Some rectangles, maybe external hard-drives?”

Damian stepped forward, gripping the handle of his katana. “Then we will smash the walls to see what he is hiding.”

Dick rushed forward to put an arm around Damian’s shoulders and stop him from doing anything.

“Indeed not, Master Damian.” Alfred gave the boy a level look. “We want Master Danny to have a home to return to. And what sort of welcome would he feel if he came back to a destroyed room? Master Bruce, Mr. Kent, I am aware you have other collegues who can density shift. Could one of them be prevailed upon to come and remove the items?”

Damian scowled and kicked at the floor. Dick bit back his smile. The kid really did care about their missing brother, whatever he said.

Clark nodded. “I’ll call J’onn, Alfred.”

-----

Part 3

Several of you guessed this is where I was going to take it the minute I introduced Clark. Didn't see anyone mention J'onn, though. (But that might be because I was sharing such small segments, so fewer people were speculating.) Let me know what you think!

I've finally gotten around to making a Subscription Post for this fic, so follow that if you want notifications!

@hailsatanacab also started a fill for this prompt that I absolutely adore, so check that out here! (It hurts, it hurts so good.)

[soleminisanction]

Issue 6 of "The Saga of the Super Sons" answers an important question: where the fuck has Dick been in this scenario?

Answer, apparently: At college.

Which is... where Bruce Junior is supposed to be. Bruce Junior, whose mother Bruce almost certainly met years after he took Dick in as a ward. Bruce Junior, who appears to be younger than Dick, but not by that much.

If you came at a Silver or Bronze Age writer with today's modern "but why is this character still 17" bullshit, I think they'd laugh directly in your face.

By the by, Dick is here because Bruce has been murdered.

I guess some things never change.

This does present an amusing comparison with the more modern takes on the subject like Prodigal/Knightfall, Gotham Knights (the game) and Battle for the Cowl, because here the boys treat Batman like something they expect to be left to one of them in Bruce's legal, actual will, like the one read out loud by his lawyer, implying the lawyer would be in on the whole secret identity thing.

When that obviously doesn't happen they come to an agreement to both... team up? But also compete? To find out who murdered Bruce, and whoever does the actual uncovering wins the cowl. This, for... reasons involves seal hunting in the Arctic and, ah... northern Native people. Which means a lot of use of a certain slur that all Natives in that biome used to (and still do) get lumped under, which I shall endeavor to write around but just know, there's a lot of it. Like, a lot. A loooooot.

Less awkwardly, check out what Dick Dillin apparently thought a killer whale looked like:

Hell, look at those mildly demonic black seals. I know this was pre-Internet dude but you could've gone to your local library. Or picked up a Seaworld ad.

Another thing that apparently never changes: Super-Sons comics insisting that only blood relatives count as "real" children.

To be fair, I wasn't actually expecting to see Dick referred to as Bruce's son at all in this. And Bruce Jr. is the only one who says this, and he's pretty consistently portrayed as the more immature and bratty one in this equation, so it doesn't really feel like the story is "agreeing" with him, it's just an interesting parallel.

Of course, because this is the 70s, they don't have any consideration for things like tactical costume changes or the realities of being mostly normal guys in the Arctic. So, though the boys arrive wearing sensible parkas, once they change into their superhero costumes Dick is just, snow shoeing through the tundra and water skiing behind a seal in his short sleeves and bare legs.

You'll probably be grateful to hear that the white industrial seal hunter is in fact the bad guy of this story -- this is actually one of the more cohesive stories in the saga so far in that regard. Simon Link was exploiting the land by killing too many seals, and then massacred part of the native village when they fought back trying to stop him, so this man Malook wanted to kill him. But, unable to find him and unable to get the white authorities to listen to him, he instead traveled to America to target his business partner, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Junior is appalled by the accusations but, interestingly, Dick is willing to hear the guy out. When Link's crime is exposed (with the help of the Supers Senior and Junior, natch), he tries to escape across the ice.... disguised as a seal... aaaaand...

Huh. Okay then. Justice is served, I guess.

Oh also Bruce Senior's still alive.

I mean... good on you for realizing the need to make amends for funding exploitative colonialism, Brucie-boy, but did you have to do it in a way that put your son through the exact same trauma you went through? Complete with the murder mystery dinner theater death scene?

Not to mention your poor wife, do you know how much shit you two have put her through in the last however long it's been?? Junior faked his death complete with a full funeral in the first issue of the saga and now you're doing the same thing! If you actually did marry Talia she'll gut you both the next time she sees you and probably Dick too just because she's never liked him.

Anyway, for a parting shot, check out the image they used to advertise this story on the cover, it's one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Beware the Ominous Pixie Boot!

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

there is no home for me there (and no solace for me here)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 640

genre: hurt/comfort, angst (happy ending)

warnings: canon plot is a loose guideline at best, don't try to figure out the timeline specifics, jason's dead and reader's grieving but it's fine because he's coming back

a/n: lil intro to the (un)happy couple

Fleeing Gotham after Jason died had always felt like running away, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. There was an itch under your skin and an aching guilt in your heart that crept up whenever you thought about it - about your partner's grave, the one you'd never even seen. About the fights you'd gotten in with him before he died… about the fights you'd had when he took on the Robin mantle in the first place. You're going to die, you'd told him. One day this will kill you. The night Bruce told you that Jason had been killed, you'd wished so desperately that you were wrong.

You can't tell, even now, if Bruce had deserved the way you lashed out at him. He led Jason into that life, yes, but he'd been just as broken by it as you. Your scathing words and shoves about how he killed Jason and why didn't he save him surely didn't help. Most days you can't find it in you to care. Every now and then, though, you wonder if this would be easier if you kept the Waynes close - if you hadn't forced yourself to grieve alone.

There was no home left there, you keep reminding yourself, there is nothing for me there. 

But then, suddenly, there is. Redhood shows up on your TV - you still keep up with Gotham news every now and then, against your better judgment. And you recognize him instantly. You would know him anywhere - the way he moves, the way he fights. It's Jason.

So, you do the only thing you can think of - you call Bruce. He's shocked to hear from you - you went radio silent when you moved out of Gotham and told him never to contact you. You splutter out a question that resembles an enquiry about Jason and Redhood and Bruce confirms.

Yes, Jason Todd is alive.

Yes, he is the vigilante Redhood.

Yes, we've… done as much reconciling as we can.

Yes, Jason Todd is alive.

Alive. Alive. Alive. 

Bruce is… kind. Kinder than he normally is. He asks how you're doing. You don't answer. He asks if you'll come back - everyone misses you, not just Jason. He'd been asking about you, apparently. Searching for you was the first thing he did, even before confronting Batman. He was heartbroken to find out that you'd disappeared. He found you, of course - you weren't hiding, just running away. But he didn't know what to do - didn't know how to show up and tell you he wasn't dead anymore.

"So," Bruce says again. "Are you coming back?" You stand up from your spot on your couch, walking slowly to your bathroom and flicking on the lights so you can stare at your reflection.

"I'm not the same me I was, Bruce. Are you sure Jason's not looking for someone that doesn't exist anymore?"

"He's not the same Jason anymore, either. He's Redhood now." Your eyes squeeze shut and you rub a hand against your forehead in a futile effort to ward off your oncoming headache.

"I… I miss Gotham," you say quietly. "I miss home. With… with or without Jason."

"Come home then."

And so you do. You get a sleek, top-floor apartment - god knows that with how much you work, you can afford it. And you just… keep living. Bruce has apparently passed on word that you're back. Dick comes to visit. Bruce comes to visit. Even Tim comes by to see your new place.

But Jason doesn't.

You know he's there; you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you're out, the feeling of being watched crawling up your spine. You know it's him. But what… what were you supposed to do? 

Nothing, turns out. The world would do it for you, turns out.

[ailithnight]

A few notes:

I originally planned to have this one have a couple of povs like the first, but then u got carried away writing feral Danny so, just Tim today.

I hope to get the next one out sometime this weekend cause it's harder to write when I have work.

Also, everyone thank @cursedzucchini for writing the comment that gave me the executive function to take these words out of my brain and put them in my phone. Reading that there was someone out there checking the tag for updates every day really motivated me.

Now, without further ado

Chapter 1

A King in Arkham

Chapter 2

Tim sighs, rubbing his temples and attempting to will away the sleep deprivation headache currently pounding on the inside of his skull. Pushing 80 hours awake, the last 38 of which have been spent combing backwards through any and all Arkham documents pertaining to one Daniel James Fenton.

He moved his hands away from his head, placing them on the fresh cup of coffee that had materialized while he was massaging, giving a cursory "Thanks" the retreating body. Normally, Alfred would have cut Tim off from caffeine yesterday. But it seems even the old butler was keen on something being found to justify pulling the kid out of Arkham.

Or maybe that was Jason fueling Tim's addiction. Man had been hovering since Batman called him back at the last break out. At least Dick had been able to reason better with the most volatile of the Wayne siblings.

"Picking him up and running won't do either of you any favors, Little Wing. It'll just put him and Hood on wanted posters. If you want him to have any shot at a life out here, you gotta let Bruce take it through the proper channels."

That had at least prevented Jason from snapping on anyone immediately, though he had seen fit to warn everyone that of they didn't have something by the next break out, he'd be doing it his way.

Which is why Tim had spent the last day and a half poring over every medical record, therapy session, schedule, action report, and discipline slip Arkham had on file that even mentioned Patient 26B.

Meanwhile, Oracle had her hands full trying to find any background information on the young ward. A task which itself was proving challenging because the place the kid came from seemed to have no digital presence at all. None. Not a Facebook or Twitter or MySpace pinging from the area. Not an email address or YouTube account. Not a single god damned website. Not even a .gov! Hell, the only reason they knew the city's name is because it was listed in the CPS paperwork from Chicago.

In other places, small towns and communities in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn't really raise any red flags. But Amity Park was not actually a nowhere town. It certainly wasn't a Gotham or Metropolis. But it was big enough to have formed a conurbation with the nearby city of Elmerton. Which had a perfectly normal digital presence. So Amity Park's lack of digital presence screamed Communications Blackout. A frighteningly strong one to still be giving Oracle the run around almost 2 days later.

Once Tim was finished reviewing Arkham reports, then the 3 weeks of documents from Daniel's stay in Chicago, he'd probably offer to help her. Though she might tell him to go the fuck to sleep instead.

For now. Tim was nearing the beginning of the kid's Arkham stay and; on top of not yet finding any clues as to why the kid was in Arkham, nor anything that could possibly exonerate him; the kid just made no damn sense!

His therapy sessions were all the same dead end.

The therapist would ask he he was feeling. The kid would apparently shrug, or sometimes mumble something the therapists could never quite catch.

They'd ask the standard suicide questions. "Any thoughts of wishing you could go to sleep and not wake up?"

A shrug.

"Any thoughts of wanting to take your own life or wishing someone would take it for you?"

Vehenement refusal bordering on a panic attack.

Move on to the hurting people questions.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm other people?"

"No." According to the doctors, his tone here is immediate, calm, confident. Truthful. If the Arkham psyches are to be believed.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm yourself?"

"No." Slower, quieter, meeker. Noted as a clear lie, citing the injuries as evidence.

"Then why do you, Danny?"

"I don't."

"Then where did your injuries come from."

"The ghosts," said with a sigh

At this point, it seems Daniel shuts down. He says nothing else for the rest of the session. Shows no outward response as the therapist tries to convince him there are no ghosts and Daniel must be giving himself those injuries.

2 and a half months. Daily therapy sessions. And every single one is the exact same script. The only differences are some minor notes as Daniel is passed around between therapists as they all inevitably get frustrated talking to the emotionless block of ice.

Outside of the therapy sessions and medical reports documenting the frankly horrifying amount of injuries Danny accumulates, there's not much in his file. He follows all instructions to the letter; never causes trouble for guards or other inmates; and every single locks malfunction, he has afterward been found lying on his bed in his cell staring at the ceiling. If he was somewhere else when the malfunction happened, security footage catches him walking there himself. If he was already in his cell, footage keeps him there the whole time.

Tim sighs again, clicking out of the medical report detailing the nasty bruise that had appeared on the kid's lower left back, then opens up the next file up without reading the name fully expecting it to be another tedious therapy session report.

Instead, he finds a discipline slip with the relevant security clip embedded at the top. The first frame is of the cafeteria. Daniel is sitting alone at a table in the top right. Tim's breath catches in his throat as he recognizes the demented clown in the center of the frame. Hastily, he plays the clip.

There is no sound but Joker appears to say something to the room. Daniel is suddenly standing, whipped around to face the clown. The Joker turns towards him. Daniel tenses. The Joker tenses.

In the next second, Daniel is on the Joker. He's kicking, scratching, biting. Absolutely feral as he just reigns fury upon the most feared and hated rogue in all of Gotham. Surrounding inmates are fleeing to the sides of the room as the Joker seemingly tries to get away from the kid, only succeeding in moving the "fight" around the room. It's hardly a fight. More like a vicious, brutal assault. Inmates cheer as blood appears on the floor. Guards move in, pulling the feral 15 year old off of the Joker; who stays down, potentially unconscious. 2 guards go to help the one currently attempting to restrain Daniel. 6 more converge on the Joker, blocking him from view. As soon as he can no longer see the Joker, Daniel seems to go limp in the guards hands. Then he tenses again, though not struggling. Tim just catches the beginning stages of what seems to be a panic attack before the clip ends.

Tim stares dumbfounded at the screen for several moments. When he snaps out of it enough to actually read the incident report, it is a basic transcription of what Tim just witnessed with confirmation that Daniel had a panic attack immediately after. The report also notes that other than the panic attack, Daniel seemed to sustain no harm. He was disciplined with 3 days without cafeteria privileges, so his meals were brought to his cell, and 3 days without Crafts room privileges.

A note at the bottom of the report reads "To prevent further incidents, Patient 26B and the Joker are no longer permitted to be in the same room or yard."

This makes Tim click out of the discipline slip -without closing it, just moving it to a different section of the batcomputer's massive screen- and scan the rest of the files. There are 2 more. One from a week prior and one from Daniel's first dat at Arkham. He opens both, placing them at points on the screen so that all 3 are visible.

The one from the week prior shows the Crafts Room. Danny is again in an upper corner. Time plays it. The door opens. Joker walks in. Seems to look at Daniel, then rushes him. Daniel looks up before the Joker makes it half way across the room, then in the next second meets him there. Another feral fight only broken up by the guards when the Joker stops moving. Again, Danny goes limp as soon as the Joker is out of sight. The rest of the report confirming a panic attack but no injuries. 2 days lost privileges.

The report from Daniel's first day again shows the cafeteria. This time, Daniel is center frame. Joker comes up behind him. Daniel tenses but doesn't turn yet. Joker seems to be saying g something, then laughs. Daniel hunches in on himself, seeming to mumble a response. Whatever he said makes the Joker laugh harder. Then he leans down over Daniel's shoulder, talking. Daniel seems frozen for not even half a second before he suddenly pushes himself out of his seat, straight in to the Joker, twisting as he goes to begin the attack. Since it's obviously the first time, the rest of the cafeteria freezes. No one reacts for a solid 6 seconds. Then guards are moving in, hauling the teenager away. The Joker stands unsteadily then takes a knee. He has to be led limping out of the room. Guards struggle to restrain Daniel until the Joker is gone, whereafter Daniel goes boneless, then begins panicking. Report confirms panic attack and no injuries. 1 day lost privileges.

Tim stares at the batcomputer for several minutes, trying very hard to process what he has just learned. His brain feels like soup. He rubs his eyes, looks at his coffee, grabs a comm to put in his ear. His voice is strained as he speaks.

Anyone nearby who can come to the cave for a minute?

Jason responds instantly.

Upstairs. Find something?

I don't... know. I just. Someone come confirm I didn't just hallucinate what I just watched and read.

Red Robin? What did you find?

Not saying until someone else can confirm it.

Red Robin

On my way down.

.

"What the actual fuck?"

[vodrae]

DC Comics highschool AU where Bruce 18 and Harvey 18 are the golden twins (lovers) of the football team, but after an injury, Harvey is replaced with that nerd from smallville who's in the school's newspaper, and he's able to make Bruce cheer too !

Grrr

So Harvey's integrating the cheerleaders (and debate) team to stay close of the field and his mentor is the girl rumoured to be the great grandgirl of the last Chinese Emperor Talia Al-Ghul.

In this AU, there is an unofficial club of heavily mentally scarred gothamite kids, you know who i'm talking about, and they have been adopted by the Golden Twins (lovers), so better not mess with them.

Everybody knows Dick 17 , he has to settle down in Gotham when his parents died and social services were looking for a solution, Alfred Pennyworth took him in, he was there with Bruce that night. Captain of the gymnastic team, no enemy guy, the only one able to shine brighter than Harvey. Someone tried to mess with his girlfriend once, Kori Anders, apparently he also learnt muay thai on the road.

Jason Todd 16 , Stephanie Brown 15 , Duke Thomas 14, Harper 16 and Cullen Row 14 can't and won't deny coming from Park Row, sorry, crime alley, Duke is actually from Bristol, but you know, nuances are too complicated. They met each other in foster system and Dick too.

One day, when the orphanage was running very low on money, Jason appeared with multiple bags of food. The others thought he was joking when he said he stole the 4 wheels of the mayor's Bentley, when he, Jacob Kane, came with the police they weren't joking so much.

Long story short, they are Kane's wards now, it's was a package deal.

Jay and Duke are making the glorious hours of writing club, Jason would like theater and Duke chemical but Jacob made them pick a sport, Jason was kind of forced to go to the football defensive team, (Jake didn't digest the L against Metropolis in 86) and Duke for the running team. As fast as light.

Steph is Lois Lane's right hand for the school's newspaper, she's running their social medias with great sucess and is the head of gossip departement. Clark is the left hand for the investigation departement. She won against Jason, Harvey, Clark and others *wink wink* the biggest eater contest. She's now a subject for the quantum physics club.

Harper leads the electronics club, the school still remembers when her dog sized spider drone was unleashed. She's also in the kickboxing club.

Cullen is vibing in the theater and art club.

Kate Kane 18 can't stand all the dumbasses above but if she has a dream where you are glaring at them she will break your knees. Her father wanted her to do ballet, she's doing music and kickboxing. Bullying is her love langage.

Tim Drake 15 is a little genius coming in HS at 12, a unique feat until a certain someone from middle east came to school... He's driving Edward Nygma insane by solving all his riddles, photography and and electronic club. His parents are rich but always absent. 7 years ago, Alfred invited him for thanksgiving, never really left since.

Damian Al-Ghul 13 and Cassandra Wu-San 16 are cousins, they are not related but their family have known each other forever and Cass was there the day the demon spawned. Damian is Dusan's Al-Ghul son, who's 30 years older than his little sister Talia, the two are really too much well trained in martial field to be normal. Damian's is leading the escrima club.

Cass, despite being mute, is leading kickboxing club, noboby ever won a round against her. In the entire country. Except for her big sister Sandra Wu-San, also known in professional wrestling as Lady Shiva, who could give her a draw. Also she can't use technology to save her life.

The Wu-San are the adopted daughters of Dinah Drake (second cousin of Tim) and Ted Grant, a former world heavyweight boxing champion and a professional wrestler known as Wildcat. Together they have a bio daughter, Dinah Jr Laurel Drake-Grant.

A girl, Selina Kyle 18 claims she's not related to them but still has a permanent room in their house if she wants to come. Teddy met Jacob Kane in the army and were deployed in middle east together, he found his girls in some destroyed village in the Middle East and resigned right after.

Talia and Damian are from one of the oldest Asian family, and very old money. Some argues that was their family who created the first philosopher's stone. Their grandpa being the only person on Earth from the XIX century still alive is not helping. Ras wife's family helped the Americans in the Middle East that how he met Ted and Jacob.

Talia 18 is in the cheerleading club because of her HUUUUUUUGE crush on Bruce Wayne, best grades ever everywhere. Wants to become a vet.

Nyssa 17 Al-Ghul is in the kickboxing club and write her secret stuff just for her.

Barbara Gordon 17 is the daughter of the commissionner, someone shot her, she's paralysed. She's the captain of wheelchair basketball and in the electronics. She's a godess at armwrestling. For real she's an hydraulic press. She's really close of Dick Grayson and maybe she has adopted Steph, Cass, Harper as hers. Her own pose in school is with Dinah Laurel and Helena Bertinelli.

She's very competitive and will take very badly if Tim is just behind her again at the Olympics of hacking this year.

Diana 18 (who is at least as tall as Clark, i'm right on this) is leading the wrestling team and history club, she's a exchange student from Greece from a monastry where men are forbidden as a diplomatic move with her sisters. (in reality the opposite exists, for real). Her accent makes every boys and girls fall for her. She has a very strong sens of justice. One day she saw Bruce and Clark, not even talking together and..."Your mine now ! We're having tacos tonight !" They knew they couldn't negotiate.

Ollie Queen 18, everybody knows he will go to a board school one of the four (three) true childhood friends of Bruce Wayne. Captain of the archery team. Came with his own crew, all in the team. Desperatly in love with Dinah Jr.

Zatanna Zatara 18, her father was a close friend of Thomas Wayne, she's on a very good way to become a magician herself. One of the four (three) true childhood friends of Bruce Wayne. Leads theater club.

Hal Jordan 18, wants to become a jet fighter, obsessed with construction games. Mathematic club and running team.

Kendra Saunders 18, also known as Hawkgirl, because the week-end she's doing BASE Jump.

John Jones 18 and his half-sister Megan Morse 17, they are refugees from oversea after a coup. They love the special effects in movies and theaters so they are is this club. They came with

Kori Anders 17, princess in exile of Tamara, she's a really sweet girl so the school asked their sweetest student to guide her through her new life : Dick Grayson. Nobody knows how she mastered english in so little time. She had troubles with the differencies beetween the two countries. Everyone's favourite. Hurting, even a little Kori is declaring war to the whole school. She's also taller than anybody and very muscular. She kinda adopted Jason ?

Rachel Roth 14, is the daughter of the King of Azaroth, nobody really knows where it is. She's in the meditation and spiritual club. The only one allowed to hug, kiss, and touch her is Kori. The constant barking with Damian Al-Ghul can't only be hatred.

Donna Troy 17, Cassie Sandmarks 15 and Artemis Grace 16, they came with Diana. They all had a "Oh my god, he's so pathetic, I love him." With a Gotham Boy. They are all very tall and strong and in the weightlifting club.

Clark 18 and Jon 14 come from Smallville and are, 1) the sweetest guys ever, 2) fucking STRONG, there is a video on the differents groupchats of them, lifting the school gargoyle after a storm. Maybe farm strenght isn't the only explanation.

Kon 15 and Bizz 14 are from metropolis, Ma Kent's sister married Papa Luthor and they had Lex and then one rebelious and one albino with a speach impeachement, who is also the size of a polar bear. But, beware, Bizz is Jason Todd and Artemis love child. They haven't really figured yet what they want to do. Bizz is in special class with Cassandra Wu-San so you can regulary see her on his back giggling.

Linda 17 and Karen 18 kent, cousins of Clark by Pa Kent came back in town a few years ago after they lived their whole life in California. Linda is in the well-being club and liked by everyone. Karen is more on the amazonians side of the force and can't help herself but have homoerotic sparring with any strong woman on sight.

Dinah Jr Laurel Drake-Grant 18 embrassed her mom legacy and already took the mantle of Black Canary and can already put stages on fire. Her perfect figure must not makes you forget that she can beat your ass in seconds because she's in the kickboxing club too. Probably why Ollie is so in love. If you ask her if she's single, she would either tell you to fuck off if dhe doesn't like you or tell you she's already married with further explanation. (Could be either the stage, or Barbs and Helena).

Roy Harper 17 is in the archery team and music club with Dinah, nobody can sing the country and blues like him. He kinda adopted Jay with Kori too. Him and Jay made a pact to quit alcohol and drugs after they had a bad trip together on a joint in the toilet at a party together.

Lian Harper 14 is his little sister and will stay single until she's 30, at least. Well, everyone on the Arrow Team would like that. She loves hanging out with Dick and the others. Archery team too.

(I don't actually quite know a thing on the rest of the team, but they are there and well.)

The Allens all have their buddies too and are putting the race tracks on fire. Their father Jay Garrick holds multiple records of speed and gold medals. But not for long to his hapinness.

The Curry family comes from the islands in pacific ocean and are setting new records every years in swimming competition. They are all in bio courses to study marine life.

Harley Quinn 18 went in school with Bruce after his parent's murder, saw him sad, and never left him. One of the four (three) true childhood friend. She won't follow any rules but she's not a bad person. Wants to help everyone with their mental health, got a pretty big tik tok account and instagram on this topic. Her ex boyfriend, Jack, made her do bad things. But her (girl)friends Pamela, Selina and Bruce and a few others (all the people above) quickly talked to him. (Alfred signed a 100 000 dollars check for surgery)

Pamela Isley 18 leads the botanic club, she doesn't like people, like at all, would talk to grass but not you, she only started to like her figure when Harley couldn't stop ranting about her "water melon boobies" and "starship butt" in PE's locker room . Anybody else would be dead, but...It was Harley ? And Selina was laughing her ass off.

Selina Kyle 18, aka Catgirl because she's always wearing stuff with cat, her bagpack, cat ears, cat make up. She has a super model walk and won't accept shit from anyone. She wants to be a vet with Talia.

Jack Napier : still in the coma. AKA Joker, a nickname gained in jail for minors.

Thomas Eliott 18, the minus one true childhood friends of Bruce Wayne, wants him dead. Jealous that he had his inheritance before him.

(I spent 4 hours on this. Why ? BECAUSE I'M BATFAN)

[faintblueivy]

So Imagine...

A world where Bruce Wayne died as a child in that alley that day, Martha and Thomas Wayne grieve as normal parents. They DO NOT BECOME BATMAN AND JOKER. 

Nothing ever remains the same after losing their little boy. So, Thomas buries himself in his work and Martha drowns herself in depression and pain. They do therapy and it works a little and life becomes bearable but...not happy.

One day, Alfred badgers the couple to go out and relax a little and buys them tickets for a circus - Haly’s circus. Everything was going nice and dandy and Martha was in awe of this little acrobat as much as the rest of the crowd when suddenly the rope snaps and the boy’s parents fall to their deaths - right in front of him and the gathering. Thomas is quick to jump in to see if he could help them in any way but Martha can see it in his eyes that they are as dead as they can be. 

They return to home with heavy hearts and Martha can’t get the image of the little boy out of her head. His skin was a light shade of bronze but his dark hair and bright cerulean blue eyes reminded her so much of Bruce that her heart wouldn’t rest. So a few days later she uses her connections to know if the child is safe and well cared for, when to her immense horror, she is replied that he was shipped to Gotham Juvie due to the lack of foster homes. She is enraged.

She calls Thomas and Alfred and lets them know about the little acrobat’s situation and declares that she was going to adopt him. They hesitate a little but she is not to be deterred as she goes ahead and brings the little boy home. 

Richard John Grayson - Wayne. Or Dick, as he likes to call himself. 

He is adamant that he wants no parents and Martha is fine because not only that she is old enough to be not his mother but also because no child can ever be her Bruce.

“You can just call me Grandma then.” She tells him.

His eyes are wide but he nods and then smiles and Martha, in a long while, has never felt this happy. 

Her new Grandson, despite losing his parents, is a ray of sunshine with unlimited supply of energy and the cold and empty manor is warm and happy again. 

Dick is a little charmer and even after Thomas and Alfred’s initial reluctance, they immediately fall in love with the boy and one day, when Martha comes down to the morning breakfast, she hears a happy, deep rumble - one she has not heard in many years. Thomas is laughing. 

There on the dining table, seated beside Dick, was Thomas laughing. Her eyes water at the scene and Alfred, who is standing beside her offers her a handkerchief. None of them mention how his own eyes are wet too.

 ...

Dick is sixteen, a brilliant boy in academics as much as they disinterest him but an invincible athlete. Martha has been told time and time again that her grandson is undoubtedly a international level gymnast. But he is a teenager.

And teenagers steal their grandparent’s ‘coolest’ car and rush off into the night. But they don’t come back with a little battered and bruised, homeless kid tucked under their arm.

“He had jacked three tires off your car. When I confronted him, he tried to hit me with a tire iron.” He says, amused, as Thomas tries to convince the child to show him his injuries.

“I didn’t do nothin’! He’s a fuckin’ big boob liar!” They boy screams, his blue green eyes glaring daggers at Dick.

“Language.” Both her and Alfred warn simultaneously.

After hours of struggle, interrogation and fuck you’s, Martha learns that the child’s name is Jason. He is twelve. Mother died form drug overdosing and Dad is a petty henchman of some crime lord. He ran away from multiple foster homes because they are so abusive that the child feels safer on streets. 

Martha goes on a rampage over Gotham’s foster care after that. She did not donate millions of dollars annually for children to feel safer on streets. After of lot of talks and reassurances and promises, Martha acquires her second grandchild.

Jason Peter Todd - Wayne. 

Jason is tiny. Malnourished like Leslie said. But he is sharp, observant and hungry for knowledge. Martha and Alfred joke that Jason is Thomas' soul child. Where Dick had loved activity and movement, Jason liked quiet and stability - Martha thinks that running and fighting for survival on streets every single day does that you. So evenings often found her and Dick in the garden but Thomas and Jason in the library pouring over as many books as they can.

And to nobody's surprise, despite their rocky start, the boys become inseparable. They are outwardly different, with clashing interests and behaviors but Martha can see that they both carry the same cores of light.  

When the morning of Dick’s Parent’s death anniversary comes around, both her and Thomas find Jason on Dick’s bed, arms curled protectively around his big brother. For the first time in so many years, Dick wakes up to warmth surrounding him, not nightmares. 

...

Both her grandsons attend Gotham Academy so when she receives a phone call from the Principal, she is half surprised and half not. When she enters the Principal’s office, both her boys are standing on one side, Jason with his head hung in shame and Dick glaring daggers at the other side. The boy who seems to be injured is being coddled by his mother who is shooting nasty glares at her grandchildren periodically. 

Then she notices another small boy standing beside her boys, trying to melt into the wall.

Tim Drake. The only son of Jack and Janet Drake of Drake Industries.    

She arches a questioning eyebrow at Dick who shakes his head and then she turns to the Principal. 

“What happened here?”

“Glad to see you’re here Mrs. Wayne.” The Principal says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I regret to inform you that your ward Jason Peter Todd attacked this young man here.” He gestures to the other boy. 

“Madam, Gotham Academy is a prestigious school and we do not encourage physical violence here. Yes, it might have been acceptable from where he came from but it won’t be, here. I hope you give us the right to punish Mr. Todd here appropriately.” 

Martha inwardly bristles at the jab at her grandson and says crisply, “Mr. Wayne.”

“What?”

“He’s not just Todd. He is a Wayne. Please remember that.”

“Principal Sir.” Dick cuts in and Martha is confused because as hyperactive as Dick is, he is a mannerly child and knows better than to cut in a conversation like this but what draws her attention is the chilling tone which Dick almost never uses. Dick continues, “Why don’t you tell our grandmother more of your regrets? Or the prestigious Gotham Academy believes that bullying is acceptable.” 

Martha has been told what she needs to know. 

“Jason?” she calls out to her youngest grandson softly, “What happened?”

Jason is quiet when suddenly Tim Drake moves forward. She can see he is scared the way his hands shake but determination shines in his blue eyes. She likes him.

“I want to say something.”

He narrates the tale of how he was being bullied and how the boy on the other side with his mother threw his science project model away and broke it and physically tried to attack him when Jason stepped in to save him. Martha felt nothing but pride at Jason’s righteous indignation. 

Tim also explained that Jason exercised immense control even after these bullies called him ‘street rat’, but the verbal spar intensified after Dick was insulted for his Romani heritage, but it came to fist fight after Thomas and Martha were insulted, and Bruce’s death was made fun of.

Her gaze snaps to the other three occupants of the room and they are all in various shades of pale. Apparently, the Principal had not done his homework.

“Principal” She says icily, “Yes, I give you the authority to punish Jason appropriately but only when this young man here”, she gestures to the boy who was now cowering behind his mother, “Is dealt with in the same way.”

After threatening the Principal in soft words but harsh tone about not tolerating to having her grandsons bullied the next time, she grabs Jason’s hand to drag him away from these people who don’t deserve his company, when her eyes fall on the little trembling Tim. 

She offers him her hand.

He stares at it, shocked but after an encouraging smile from Dick and a small shove from Jason, he takes it shyly.

And since that day, Tim becomes a member of Martha’s family. The boys stay together so much that even Thomas forgets that Tim is not theirs. 

Tim’s upbringing sends Martha’s grandmother instincts on a haywire and she resents the Drakes for their criminal neglect towards Tim. 

It is rewarding that Tim flourishes in their attention. 

She learns that his hobby is Photography and he is excellent at it. And he is a genius when it comes to science, computers and gadgets. He likes crime thrillers movies and books and often picks them apart with his scarily good knowledge about forensics that leave the rest of the family in awe and slightly disturbed. 

The dam breaks when one day Jason and Dick return back from school telling her that Tim was absent today and they are worried about him. When they later sneak into the Drake mansion in the evening, Thomas receives a frantic call from their oldest grandchild that Tim was burning with fever. Because Thomas is a doctor, they save Tim before anything serious happens.

This time, it is Thomas who sues the Drakes for Tim’s custody after him and Jason had, had enough of ‘Timbo’s shitty parents’.

“Timothy?” Martha brushes his sweat soaked forehead gently. “Would you like to be a member of our family legally?"

Tim is hesitant about this but he admits that he likes Wayne manor much better than he ever liked Drake mansion. He confesses that he loves Jason and Dick as brothers and sees Martha, Thomas and Alfred as his grandparents as well.

The long custody battle ends with both Jack and Janet Drake dying at the hands of two different tragedies, leaving Tim an orphan, but also with a loving family consisting of three grandparents and two brothers by his side. 

Timothy Jackson Drake - Wayne is adopted into the Wayne family as her and Thomas’ third grandson.

...

A year after they adopt Tim, Thomas comes home with a small girl on his side. She is clearly an east Asian in heritage with dark hair and dark eyes and is speech deprived. Thomas is clearly distressed after Cassandra - her name is Cassandra - is safely secured in warm bed in a nice room across Jason’s. He calls her, the three boys and Alfred to his study to explain about the small girl. 

He talks about how Gordon brought the girl to him and after hours of wordless, signed and clumsily sketched on paper conversations with the little girl they were able to determine that Cassandra was hiding from her father who was an assassin and wanted to drag the little girl down the same path before she ran away. The more he talks about the damage and abuse the girl had experienced at the hands on her own father, the more furious Martha becomes. When Thomas’ explanations ends, Jason slams a punch into the wall making a dent but no one has the heart to reprimand him for that. 

The following morning, Martha can see that her three boys have unanimously decided that they are adopting Cassandra as their sister. She is treated like a Princess, and given the nick name ‘Cass’. 

Slowly but surely, Cass learns what it means to love through Dick’s bright kindness, Jason’s quiet protection and Tim’s infinite patience. After her father is finally apprehended, the family celebrates.

Cassandra Wayne, soon after, becomes the beloved Wayne Princess of Gotham. 

Martha and Thomas often accompany their only granddaughter to her speech therapy lessons, so after six months of her adoption, at dinner, she places a kiss on everyone’s forehead - her three brothers and three grandparents, stands at the head of the table and croaks out, slowly, “Thank...thank you.” All of them stare at her flabbergasted, but it appears that she was planning to shock them even more.

“You...Love. Love you...”

The silence that follows her broken but sure words is deafening. Surprisingly it is Tim who breaks it as he scrambles out of his chair and launches himself at Cass, wrapping his arms around her and both Jason and Dick follow him, grabbing both their youngest siblings fiercely.

A quiet sob breaks her out of the trance and she smiles when she watches Thomas furiously wiping his tears from the sleeve of his shirt. The last time he     had cried was at Bruce’s funeral. And Martha is infinitely grateful that this time these are happy tears. 

...

Sometimes Martha wonders what would have happened if Bruce had lived. If these children are her grandchildren then does that mean they are Bruce’s kids? Had Bruce lived, would he have accepted these gaggle of kids that her and Thomas have collected over the years as his own? Would he have kids of his own? 

Her questions are answered when one day she hears a slight commotion in the entrance is surprised to see a young woman with a sword threatening Alfred.

“I want to meet the Master of this house. Let them know immediately.” She demands in an authoritative but silky voice, and Martha suddenly sees the Toddler clutched in her arm. 

“What is it?” Martha speaks as soon as she can when the woman notices her. She looks surprised for a second but immediately schools her features as the baby fusses.

“You’re alive.” She whispers and before any of them could make an indignant comment about her wordings, she says, “It appears that I might have traveled in to the wrong universe.”

Now that is interesting. Martha lives in a world where they are protected by aliens...so, it is certainly worth hearing for. 

Martha offers the young lady an invitation for tea which she accepts. She notices how the woman carries herself with lethal grace and dignity as if she was a Princess but much more. As they sit and Alfred leaves to bring the promised team Martha notices how the woman’s eyes sweep over the place. 

“How may I help you?”

Her voice attracts the attention of the toddler and this time, he is not clutched tightly enough to his mother’s chest to turn his small head and look at her. Martha gasps. Because the child looks too much like Toddler Bruce. But instead of the blue eyes like her son, this child has glowing green ones, like his mother. But still, the resemblance is uncanny. 

“Yes, he is your son’s.” The woman answers the unasked question.

She is explained the existence of Multiverse, and it’s workings and how Bruce survived instead of them in that world, met Talia (the woman’s name is Talia Al Ghul) and had a child but had to leave. Talia mentions the reason she came here was because her son’s life was in danger and Talia’s father wanted to raise her son as an assassin Prince and a tool for him to use. Talia’s solution to protect her son was for her to give her son to the Bruce of this world to raise, since the Bruce of that world had gone missing.   

“I can raise him.” Martha suddenly declares and the woman looks at him shocked. “I will not raise him into a life of violence but I can certainly protect him and give him a happy civilian life.”

Talia looks unsure, hesitant, but says, “I...have been a warrior since the day I can remember. Never once have I ever thought of my son not being a warrior. He was...born to be one.” 

Martha smiles. “He doesn’t have to be one. Yes, his life will be infinitely different than the one you imagined but...he will be well loved and protected. I can assure you of that.”

“Damian.” Talia whispers as he deposits the baby in her arms after a lot of consideration. “His name is Damian.”

She looks at her son tenderly one last time and places a kiss on his forehead and Martha’s heart breaks a little for the young mother. 

“Will you return back for him?” Martha asks as she follows the Talia to the door.

“No.” Talia whispers, her voice strained. “I will not. Any action taken by me is monitored by my father closely. If I return back, then he might know that I have left Damian here and I cannot let that happen. He is yours, forever.”

Martha gives her a sad smile. “You’re a brave and good mother Talia. Thank you for doing what is best for your son.”

She nods, not turning to look at Damian one last time as she leaves the manor grounds, never to return. 

Martha looks at the baby secure in her arms and her lips quirk up into a grin at the sight of two curious green eyes watching her with interest. 

“Welcome to the family, little Damian.”

When she introduces the new addition to the family, Thomas is dumbfounded. Dick is ecstatic at the prospect of having a new baby brother, Jason is secretly pleased, Cass is happiest and Tim looks unsure.

That’s how Damian Wayne - Al Ghul joins the family.

Damian fits in their home spectacularly. After few days of hesitation, like he had with Dick, Thomas takes to Damian quickly. He has an epic competition going on with their eldest grandson to become the baby’s favorite. Damian refuses to sleep without Thomas but his tantrums are only controlled and won over by Dick. Damian loves Jason manhandling him and giggles happily when the older boy throws him in the air or swings him around. Damian loves Cassandra because she knows what he wants before any of them do. And Cass loves to carry her little brother around to watch birds and animals in the manor grounds.

The only person Damian seems to not get along with is Tim and the older boy seems not be fond of him either. Because Damian wants everything Tim does and the older brother has to compromise for Damian every time. But Martha has to bite laughs a lot now a days because almost everytime Damian falls asleep, it is with Tim in vicinity. And she has caught the older boy tenderly covering Damian in his favorite blanket more often than not. Martha thinks that this is kind of cute but keeps her opinion to herself. 

Her little grandson is quite protective of his siblings though. Anytime someone upsets any of his siblings, they are threatened with scowls, growls and even bites and stabbings in extreme cases.

Like last time when Mrs. Park made fun of Cassandra’s  speech impairment, Damian almost bit her finger off. Damian hates one of Dick’s racist colleague (they all do) so much that anytime the man enters his field of vision, the first thing Damian gets his hand on is thrown at the guy’s head. With deadly precision. And last time when Mr. Link had called Jason ‘street rat’ for personally volunteering charity work for poor and homeless, Damian had smeared his juice and drool covered hands on the Man’s thousand dollars suit. And when one time, a reporter had infiltrated a Gala and chased Tim around to ask uncomfortable questions about his parent’s death and the Wayne’s involvement in it, Damian, noticing Tim’s distress had stabbed the reporter with a fork with no hesitation. 

Martha is still not sure if she should encourage or reprimand Damian for that.

...

As she sits on the head of the table with Thomas on her side and Alfred on the other end, she wonders how miraculous it is for her to have all these children in her life. 

Dick is engaged in an animated conversation with Stephanie who was introduced to the family as Tim’s girlfriend. Barbara, the daughter of James Gordon and Dick’s girlfirend/or not was helping Cass pile up food on her plate. Damian and Tim were bickering over something as usual but Jason trying to hide his snickers in guise of drinking water which made Martha sure that the something was Jason’s doing.

These people were her family. The ones she had gained after losing Bruce. She wonders, if there was a universe where Bruce got to meet her grandchildren. 

Would he accept them? As family? 

Would he love them? As family? 

She brightly smiles when the multiple sets of eyes turn to her waiting for her to blow the candle.

“Happy Birthday Martha.”

Thomas says warmly, his voice thick with emotion and she meets his gaze and sees the love, affection and thankfulness in his eyes for this family that they had created after their earth shattering loss. She knows what she wants as she blows the candle on the cake flickering in front of her.

I wish for us to be family in every universe.

[zizygy]

Two Truths and A Lie

Fandom: Young Justice, Dick Grayson/Wally West Written around 6 years ago for the prompt “surprise” Read it on AO3 “My turn,” Robin said, grinning as he held up three fingers. “I read four dictionaries in their entirety when I was nine,” he said dropping one finger, “I’ve talked to seven world leaders, including the president of the United States,” and another one down, “and I once stole a bone from the dinosaur skeleton in the Batcave.”


The team began conferring. By the rules of the game, Robin only told one lie, but which of those facts could possibly be true?

He crossed his arms and smirked, satisfied that he’d stumped his team. They seemed stuck on whether or not there was actually a dinosaur in the Batcave or if he’d been able to read four languages when he was that young.


Well, everyone except Wally, who was quiet and looked supremely unsurprised. When the rest of the team were ready, they began guessing.

Artemis said the dictionaries, Kaldur said world leaders and M’gann and Connor said the Batcave because they didn’t believe there was actually a dinosaur in there. Wally said the Batcave because “come on, you’re far to goody two shoes to steal from Batman”. Everyone laughed and Robin admitted that he was right.

“But there is an entire dinosaur there?” Connor asked.

“I’m not sure I’m even surprised at this point,” Artemis deadpanned.

Wally shrugged, unimpressed.


They continued playing the game for another couple of rounds, though no one got quite the same reaction as Robin had. Eventually it got late enough that everyone retired to their own rooms. Well, everyone except Dick and Wally because Dick was on call and Wally was planning on crashing on the couch. It looked like he already had, except he looked up when Robin vaulted over the couch and landed exactly in the spot between the back and the speedster’s legs.

“So” Dick said, stretching out to lay on top of his friend, “you knew there was a dinosaur in the Cave?”


Wally turned on the TV and began channel surfing. “I wasn’t surprised to find out about it.”

“Seriously?”

Now he looked at Dick. “Dude, you grew up in circus before becoming the ward of like the richest dude around, not to mention you fight crime every night and have to actually remember to make sound when you enter a room, nothing about your life can surprise me.”

Dick frowned for a moment, then he grinned. That sounded like a challenge.

Wally, it turns out, was a really hard person to impress. Superheroes had been part of his world for almost as long as they’d been part of Dick’s, so none of Dick’s stories about Catwoman or the Riddler or Poison Ivy ever really phased him. They were entertaining, sure, and he apparently like hearing about Dick’s crazier adventures with Batman, but he was never surprised. So superheroes were out.

Unfortunately, as his best friend (and the only person he’d ever told his secret identity to) Wally already knew pretty much everything about Dick’s life pre-Bruce Wayne.


Which meant that Wally was right, there really was nothing Dick could say that could surprise him.


But Dick was Robin and he had a mission. He wasn’t going to fail.

“You know, I’ve eaten Alligator before,” Dick commented after they finished a mission involving Killer Croc, sewers, and a desperate lack of noseplugs.

"At one of those benefit things?” Wally asked like it was the most normal topic in the world. Dick sighed.


Dick tapped Wally’s leg with Penguin’s cane to get his attention. “Oh hey,” he said, face lighting up when he saw Dick, “did you hear about that new Call of Duty game that just came out?”


He didn’t even glance at the cane.



“Did you take a dip in the lake?” Wally asked when Dick zeta’d into the base dripping wet.


“Harbor actually,” he replied as cheerily as he could as his teeth rattled. “Bats and I got gassed and I w-woke up on a b-boat.”


“Areyoualright?” Wally asked as he zipped to Dick’s side, wrapped his arms around his freezing friend, then began vibrating to create enough friction to warm him up.

“Rope wasn’t very tight,” he said, already beginning to feel better. “Easy peasy to get out and swim for shore.”

“All in a day’s work, huh Boy Wonder?”

Apparently.

Weeks had passed and Dick still hadn’t managed to surprise Wally. Maybe his friend was right- once you knew about Dick Grayson, there wasn’t really anything that could phase you.


He slumped over the computer in the Batcave. Gotham’s gangs had been unnaturally active. Both Dick and Bruce had been up for the past two nights and Batman had insisted that he could handle this weapons deal by himself. Dick was to stay in the Cave and make sure nothing happened while Batman was distracted. So far, it hadn’t. The weapons dealers hadn’t even shown up yet.


Dick let his gaze wander around the cave as he waited for the action to start. His eyes lingered on the dinosaur skeleton- a full sized T-Rex. The security on the case was laughable, Dick could easily get past it without tripping any alarms…


He glanced back up at the screen. The buyers had just showed up. Now they were just waiting on the sellers. In other words, Batman was occupied. Dick touched the com in his ear to make sure he’d hear if anything too interesting happened, then he jumped out of his chair and ran towards the case.


The next day he slid onto the stool beside Wally, interrupting the speedster’s lovelorn gazing at M’gann as she baked.


He turned to tell Robin off, but he paused when he saw his friend’s grin. Suspicious, he asked, “What’s that about Rob?”

Robin only grinned wider as he slid something wrapped in a scrap of cloth across the counter.

Wally glanced at him, then unwrapped it with speedster quickness. “Ohmygod,” he rushed out. “Youactuallydidit.”

“Told you I could surprise you.”

Wally’s hand brushed along the piece of Tyrannosaurus tail in front of him. “Respect man.”

[storybookstalker]

A Helping Hand

 - Author’s Note -

➥ Sorry for my absence! I’ve been struggling with my mental illness and with school a lot so it’s been hard to really keep up with anything. Hopefully this somewhat makes up for some of that time! This is a smallish fic I made for my art trade with @yandere-starchild​ ! I really hope you love it as much as I loved your part of our trade! 

↳ Yandere - Platonic - Bruce Wayne : Batman 

↳ Yandere - Implied - Tim Drake : Red Robin

It’s insanely lucky that she’d managed to get into Gotham High to begin with, especially without having the whole support thing that seemed to come with having parents. Nor any other kind of support network. She didn’t exactly have friends at the school, regardless of how hard she used to try,— not that she had many, to begin with— but she’d like to think that grades were more important than friendship. She’d found somewhat of a friend in some kid named Tim a while back, but he’d gone and dropped out. Not that she blamed him, even if he was weird with how he just suddenly greeted her as if they knew each other one day. No, Ymir would have dropped out a long time ago if she had the choice. The classes were long, tiring, and too early; and forced her to stay up way too late in a cold effort to keep up with the curriculum. She’d zone out in forced attempts to jot down the teacher’s notes, it’d probably be more fun to watch paint dry than do this. The detention from falling asleep in class only led to more trouble with the dean and with her legal guardians, and more falling asleep on cold desks from sheer exhaustion. 

All of this funneling down into why Ymir found herself waiting outside the probably electric, kinda scary looking fence that surrounded the Wayne Manor. Looking back on it, this was most likely a horrible idea. 

The other week she had run into Tim again, quite literally bumping into him and pouring hot coffee onto his nice (and probably expensive—) looking sweater. He didn’t seem to mind all that much surprisingly— despite her embarrassment— and somehow the two ended up chatting like old friends in a booth, bonding over their shared frustration with Gotham High. 

“Y'know, I actually used to be pretty good with your classes! Just lost the motivation to do them.” 

“Haha, yeah I know what you mean,” Ymir agreed, “It’s just really hard to keep up and it doesn’t help that I’m falling behind a bit…” 

That’s when he offered to tutor her. It was a little shocking, considering she had just dumped hot coffee on his nice sweater. His logic was that he’d have to go back to the school eventually, so helping her study would benefit both of them. 

“Besides,” Tim continued, “we should try to get to know each other better.” 

And so, that’s how the very tired girl ended up spending a few days with Tim every week. 

Usually, they’d meet at a library or something but Tim asked to study at his house this week, which led full circle back to her standing in front of Wayne Manor. Ymir probably should have known that Tim was a Wayne long before this point, but apparently, it had never come up. Or, rather she probably just didn’t pick up on it, not that it mattered now. 

Ymir wondered if he had jokingly given her a fake address until the manor’s gate began opening up. Her nervousness only managed to increase the closer she got to the house, not that she could easily turn around with how the gate shut behind her, everything looked way too expensive for her to even be looking at. The front door was even more intimidating; was she supposed to use a different door? Ymir’s dizzying resolve just barely steadied when Tim appeared and greeted her, calling her inside. 

If Tim noticed her awkwardness, he didn’t mention it. He and the manor’s butler, Mr. Pennyworth, seemed to welcome Ymir. Pennyworth, though Tim tried to encourage her to call him Alfred, offered drinks and snacks throughout the study session. The older man would step in to help if either party seemed to have more questions than they could answer but it was mostly just the two teens for the majority of the time. Ymir’s nerves soothed themselves as time went on, by the end of the session she found herself talking to Tim normally. Ymir went home with a smile, maybe she’d found a friend, finally. 

Weeks passed, and while her grades did improve, Ymir’s parents seemed unhappy with the entire situation still. It was hard to enjoy her time with the Waynes when her parents would scold her for having “too much fun”, apparently too happy to be studying as she should be. She was sure Tim noticed it, but vocalizing anything happening would just ruin it more for her.

It wasn’t until Tim had to cancel a study session that all it tipped over. Her confusing relationship with Tim, her parents shoving their expectations down her throat, school— all bundled into a breakdown in front of the Wayne Manor. The constrictive lump in her throat dropped to her stomach when Bruce Wayne himself stepped out from the gate and invited her inside. 

Ymir tried to backtrack, Tim wasn’t there so why would she come in—? 

“Nonsense,” Bruce brushed off her stuttering, “Any friend of Tim’s is always welcome here.” 

He waited for her to follow before leading her into his Manor. In which he sat Ymir down and got water for the teary-eyed student. Bruce explained that Tim had mentioned that she seemed overly stressed, “Which is odd, from what Alfred and Tim tell me you’re doing much better grade-wise.” 

Ymir’s heart dropped to her stomach, she didn’t really want to shove her family issues onto the most wealthy man in Gotham. Especially not after all the help Tim gave her. What kind of a ‘thank you’ is crying and whining? 

Ymir steadied herself, “I am. I’m passing now, I’m grateful for everything Tim’s done for me, Mr. Wayne.”

“Bruce is fine, Ymir. With how often you’re over here you might as well be family.” Bruce smiled, almost in a reassuring way, as if he already knew how overwhelmed she was. “And since you’re basically family, I want you to know that this is a safe place for you. If you need anything, you can tell me.” 

The lack of care from her own parents and the warmth from the Waynes came crashing down on her, hot tears came rolling down her face as she attempted to explain herself. There was no rush from Bruce or Alfred, both of which comforting her in their own ways. 

She spent the next few hours venting out her emotions about her family and school, Bruce offering advice. Tim appeared later on in the evening, inviting her to watch a movie to help calm down after her comfort session with Bruce. 

Meanwhile, Bruce made a call home and ensured that she was allowed to stay over should she want to. The Waynes were more capable of taking care of Ymir, Bruce just had to make sure they could continue to protect her. Not that it would be difficult. With a family like Ymir’s? All he needed to do was pull some strings, her family should be proud to have their daughter be accepted as a ward of Bruce Wayne himself. For now, he was happy to wait until she was comfortable enough to call the Manor her home. 

↳ END ↲

[bartistic]

Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ‘mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

��No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

[artxyra]

What if Marinette goes to GA and becomes friends with damian and are known as the chaos kids. The school gets used to them. The waynes need Damian one day and when they ask for him the reply is "At (area) doing (weird thing. Example: making pokemon statues out of waffles) with Mari" they get to said area they're gone and the fam has to keep asking people where he is and keep getting crazy replies. When they find him he's arguing with her about whether winnie the pooh's fav color is red or yellow

@coolrascalhoagienerd, well I had a good laugh when I saw this and where is the making of what I thought would have worked. I hope you enjoy. 

When Damian entered the halls of Gotham Academy, the first thing he notice was the change in the usual dark atmosphere. It felt oddly kinder and more lighthearted. Everywhere he turns there are whispers featuring around the new girl that recently join the school.

It’s funny how the two met that very same day. She was running down the halls in a hurry as he was walking to his next class, one that he was particular care for. They bump into each other causing a standstill in the halls. Everyone wondered how the dark prince would react to the princess of sunshine. They expected a yelling match, instead they got the best and worst of alliance ever made. 

Months passed since the blooming of Damian and Marinette’s friendship and not a single student could say that there weren’t surprised. The moment Marinette had Damian under her spell, she was able to make the stoic teen become his age. It started off small with a joke here and there, then it exploded into card games followed by video games. To this day, Damian swears that he’ll beat her at a shooting game at one point to which Marinette would respond with a laugh and an over the shoulder wink. The younger Wayne would swear that he has never blush a day in his life but the photographic proof on Marinette’s phone says otherwise.

The school soon became accustomed to being Daminette’s playground. At first the teachers were opposed to the idea but after seeing how slightly more open Damian has become with the of Sunshine, they slowly agreed to the idea of allowing the dark prince and his sunshine have less strict rules.

Which brings us to this moment, Marinette swings on a swing set while Damian practice his form with a katana. Don’t ask how he manage to get it past security.

“You know, maybe we should do something wild?” Marinette says looking up to the sky with a mischief smirk on her lips.

Damian doesn’t turn to her; he only sets the blade down to his side. “What do you have in mind?”

Marinette giggles uncontrollably.

Let’s just say that whatever Marinette had in mind would rule the yearbooks for years to come.

~~

Damian hiding his characteristic change at home was simple enough. A few death threats here and there, maybe sneaking out moments every so often. No one at the Wayne cared to pay any attention to it. It only came as shock when Damian left for school along the lines of being late. Alfred offered to take me to which Damian declined and got onto his “normal” motorcycle and speeds off.

“Does it seem that Damian is acting strange to you?” Richard “Dick” Grayson asks, pipping his down from the ceiling. He’s on the chandelier again. Poor Alfred, maybe he’ll dust the chandelier for him.

Tim walks in to with large mug in hand, no doubt filled to the brim with coffee. “Which one?” He asks taking a sip, bags are underneath his eyes.

“I do concur with Master Richard; the young master has been acting somewhat strange for quite a moment now” Alfred appears out of nowhere.

It wasn’t long before Jason manage to drag the head of the household from his lair into the mess that was slowly brewing in the main room. Alfred reprimands Jason for the uses of force as he hands Bruce Wayne a cup of coffee.

“Look, I can’t explain much, but we’re going to need Demon Spawn for something huge.” Jason says looking like a madman pulling Bruce by the arm.

“Uh, why would we need Little Bird?” Dick asks dropping onto the floor and twisting his body. “Not that I don’t mind getting Damian involved.”

“Look there’s no time to explain,” Jason facepalms and begins to push everyone towards the door despite the lack of proper wear they have on.

After one clothes change, a large of amount protest, the Wayne household now stands in front of the gates of Gotham Academy.

“Is it me or does this place look less you know Gotham-y and full of life?” Tim asks narrowing his eyes as he takes a long sip of a new cup of coffee that has been transfer into a to-go cup with Red Robin’s emblem.

“No, no, Timmy, I see it too.” Dick whispers as Jason struts past the gates and onto the school’s property.

Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Come on, let’s go get your brother so Jason can stop being Jason.”

Tim shrugs before passing the gates himself with Dick following him.

Upon entering the school, they could immediately see that it was either passing period or free time for the students.

Bruce makes his way to the attendance, where Assistant Joyce resides sitting at the desk.

“Hello Joyce, I’m here pick up Damian. He has a, ah, dentist appointment this evening.” Bruce speaks hoping that she wouldn’t catch the lie he spoke of.

“Well Mr. Wayne, Damian is, uh…” Joyce turns to someone besides her. “Do you know where Damian Wayne would be at today?”

“Try the art room.” A feminine voice answers.

Joyce turns back to the Wayne family and smiles, “He should be at the art room, it’s down the hall to your right, you should not miss it. It’s in the only hallway that has a series of artwork posted in it. Before you go, please sign here so that we know to tell the teachers not to mark Damian absent today.”

Joyce hands Bruce a sign out sheet, to which the man signs and ushers his wards to go find his youngest.

“They’re so screwed.” The same feminine voice speaks causing Joyce to break out laughing.

Well, it took a total of four different locations for the men to find the youngest Wayne.

First, they went to the art room like Joyce’s co-worker told them to. They meet with a student that says that basically told them that Damian was playing Pokémon Go near the gym, apparently, he was trying to catch a legendary Pokémon that spawned there.

So, of course, after an awkward eye contact with one another, they walk to the gym. Once again Damian was there, but a different was. He told them that Damian was making ice sculptures out of ice cream at the cafeteria. The student then goes on to explain that Damian had some amazing skills with a knife.

Jason, with wide eyes, practically shouted at the student that he was crazy, and that Damian would never, and he means NEVER do something that stupid. The student just shrugs it off like it was an everyday occurrence. It was Dick that had to hold Jason back from thrashing the teen.

By the time they got to the cafeteria, it was damn near empty aside from a few students still eating. There were no signs of ice cream or the tools that would go into making a sculpture. Tim had to ask a few students to see if Damian was in here at some point in time. It’s the workers that answers the young CEO by telling him that Damian was here earlier making sculptures out of ice cream before handing it out to students. When asked with the question that has been slowly driving the four insane, the worker replies with “Upstairs racing on these old colorful scooter board down the halls.”

It was at that moment when Tim wanted nothing to but to have a mental break down, and he would have if it wasn’t for Bruce holding him up.

So, they quickly found themselves on the second level of the school. There was no sight of Damian Wayne, though there were wheel tracks smudged into the flooring.

“Are you kidding me?” Jason shouts out into the ceiling. Thankfully, there were no students in the halls to hear it. Well that might have been the case if it wasn’t for a teacher to open their door and shush the male.

“Angel, you are desperately in the wrong here. The bear only wears one color, so it has to the color red.” It was then that they finally hear the voice of the person they have been looking for. Looking over the staircase, they find a hidden cove/nook like area and siting in it is none other than Damian Wayne himself, but he’s not alone.

“I’m telling you, Dami, Pooh’s favorite color is yellow.” The female answers before taping her fingers as makes her point. “He loves honey, which is by default a yellow color.”

“I disagree, Winnie the Pooh has been drawn on numerous of occasions with red items not yellow.” He counters.

This was not happening. Tim’s along with Jason’s exe stopped working and now they were frozen in place. The most deadliest of Wayne’s is arguing about Winnie the motherfucking Pooh’s favorite color. Bruce has no words as Dick pulls out his phone to record the whole ordeal.

Legend has it that Damian never went home that day despite being excused from classes. When he had return home, his family never spoke to him, still in shock at what they just encountered. It wasn’t until a couple of months later that Damian had introduce the family to Marinette and all hell breaks loose. 

[camsthisky]

Bruce crouches on the ledge, hidden by shadows, just out of Commissioner Jim Gordon’s sight. It’s easier with the bat signal lit up, and usually Bruce would play up the dramatics, try to see how long his partner could keep a straight face.

Tonight is not a usual night, though.

For one, his partner is missing. They’d split up to investigate a warehouse, but ten minutes in, Bruce had gotten a panicked, “B, they’re—”

After that, nothing but static on his comm. Bruce had searched the warehouse top to bottom three times.

No Robin.

And now this. The bat signal lit up. Bruce had no clues as to where Robin could be, and he can only hope that this interruption is connected.

He slips from the shadows just as Gordon turns to light another cigarette.

“Holy—”

Gordon startles at the abrupt sight of him, clutching at his chest. Bruce’s heart aches at the lack of Robin trying to muffle his snickers that usually accompanied the reaction.

His grief doesn’t show on his face.

“Would ya quit scaring me like that? I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Bruce says nothing. Gordon sighs, fishing something from inside his coat and holding it out for Bruce to see.

“A kid from Gotham University showed up at our front door about twenty minutes ago, absolutely scared out of his mind. He gave this to us,” Gordon lightly shakes the object—a communicator, Bruce realizes. Sleek. Small. Too well-made for any of the usual Gotham suspects. “Kid said it’s for you.”

“And the student?” Bruce asks, taking the communicator from Gordon.

Gordon stuffs his hands into his coat pockets. “Conference room downstairs. I asked one of the ladies at the front desk to watch over him and take his statement since I’m pretty short-handed tonight. She should be finishing up soon.”

“Hn.”

“You’re real talkative tonight.”

Bruce doesn’t bother to respond to that. He growls, “What else.”

“Nothing we can’t handle ourselves,” Gordon sighs. “Nothing urgent, at least.”

He sounds exasperated, and Bruce knows from talking to Gordon during the day that the GCPD is slammed with cases that the city council won’t sign off on asking for Batman’s help. Not to mention all of their internal affairs issues.

Downstairs is probably a real clusterfuck.

Still, Bruce has other priorities.

“Any leads on the sender?” Bruce asks.

Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose. Migraine, probably. “No. Apparently, the kid was drugged and kidnapped. He woke up a few blocks from here with a note.”

“The note?”

“Being processed as evidence,” Gordon tells him. He hands over a photograph. “Here. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

The note. Bruce doesn’t recognize the handwriting. There’s no signature, either. Just a few words: Go to GCPD. Device must go to Batman.

Vague. Bruce should get back to the Cave and analyze it right now. It may be connected to Robin. He has what he needs from the Commissioner, and usually by now, he’d have vanished off into the shadows.

But tonight’s not usual. For some reason, Bruce hesitates.

The communicator crackles to life.

“I assume that my lovely device has reached the fabled Batman’s hands,” a voice says. “That’s good. I was getting tired of babysitting.”

Bruce stiffens. Definitely connected, then. Gordon blinks at the device, his brain starting to connect dots. Unfortunately, he’s missing some of the key dots. He’ll only be working with half a picture.

Bruce doesn’t draw it for him. He stays silent.

“I’m assuming you’re listening,” the voice says, and this time, Bruce can hear a commotion in the background. “Bring the brat over.”

Gordon’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Fuck you, you bald jerk!” Bruce’s pre-teen ward yells out, and if he didn’t have the cowl on, Bruce is pretty sure he’d be heaving out a sigh, because of course Dick is antagonizing them. “I’m pretty sure I know exactly what I’m talking about. The color scheme is atrocious. No flair, or anything. What are you, second-rate kidnappers? Where’s your pizazz?!”

“Will you shut up?!” another voice cries, probably whoever was ordered to bring Dick over to the first voice.

“It’s literally illegal for me to stop running my mouth. If I’m quiet for more than thirty seconds, the world’ll explode. Now let me go so I can kick your mustached, jumpsuit wearing asses ten ways to Sunday!” Dick yells.

“Not happening,” the first voice says.

“Ow!” Bruce’s heart seizes at Dick’s short cry of pain. “Hey, Mister, I think you missed your calling as a meat tenderizer!”

“Batman’s on the line,” the first voice tells Dick, and this time, Dick does go quiet. “You wanna speak to him, then you behave.”

There’s one, two, three, four, five seconds of silence. And then—

“B?” Dick call out, sounding tentative in a way that puts Bruce’s nerves on fire. There’s static in his brain, and he’s barely able to push past the fuzziness to hear Dick ask, “Are you there?”

Somehow, Bruce manages to sound like his normal, gruff, Batman self when he says, “Robin.”

Dick exhales loudly. And this time Bruce can’t help the fond eyeroll when Dick starts chattering again.

“Good golly gosh, Batman,” Dick says, sounding ten times brighter than before, like he hadn’t just been using language that would have made Alfred wash his mouth out with soap. “You wouldn’t believe how dull this place is. I mean, you’d probably like it with how dark and dreary it is. Perfect for bat brooding.”

There’s more commotion, some angered and exasperated shouts from the background of the communicator, but Dick keeps talking.

“And holy Batman, B, when they surprise adopted me I did not think that I was gonna have to deal with more black. What’s with old guys and monotone colors? D’ya think it makes you look manly?”

“That’s enough, kid,” the first voice says. Then, to Bruce, “If you want the chatterbox traffic light back, you’re going to meet me on 32nd by the old batting cages. Oh, and you’re going to bring me a file from the GCPD.”

“File?” Gordon finally steps in.

“Ah, so the Commish was listening in. Oh well. Yeah. Jaquelyn Briggins. Her file, or you don’t see the kid again.”

“Fine,” says Bruce, before Gordon can put his foot in his mouth. “Fifteen minutes. The batting cages on 32nd.”

The line goes dead. Bruce makes sure it’s temporarily disabled for sure with an attachable EMP.

“Get the file,” Bruce demands.

Gordon sighs, exasperatedly, but walks towards the roof’s door. “I’ll get it. Meet me in my office.”

Bruce goes from roof to window in seconds, slipping into Gordon’s office before the commissioner gets there. Once he brings the file, they pour through it.

Thirteen minutes.

“What’s this guy want with Jaquelyn Briggins?” Gordon asks. “There’s barely anything in here.”

Which is better for them, Bruce thinks as he scans the two sheets of information a third time. More information would take time to sort through things that don’t matter. In this case, all the info Bruce needs is right in front of him.

Eleven minutes.

Bruce takes a picture with his cowl lenses. “I’m borrowing the file.”

Gordon doesn’t look happy. “That’s illegal, you know.”

“So are vigilantes.”

“Bring it back,” Gordon sighs.

Bruce grunts an affirmative, and then he’s off.

The journey to the meet up place is practically a blur. He’s at three minutes when he reaches 32nd street. He reaches the batting cages at two.

He perches from a nearby roof ledge, scanning the area.

Dick’s information is as accurate as always. Four men stand outside the batting cages. There are two men holding Dick, one grabbing each arm. Dick’s staring down a third man, and the last is looking around the practically abandoned street.

One is bald. Two have mustaches. All of them are wearing black jumpsuits. The one standing in front of Dick is wearing rings, which match the scratches on Dick’s cheek.

Nothing else is out of the ordinary. He double checks, sends a discreet message to Alfred to prep the first aid kit and start researching Briggins, and makes sure Superman’s frequency is on hand if things get dicey.

Then, Batman gets to work.

Dick knows he’s there. The way he squints his eyes and grits his teeth as he chatters—yells, really—at the ring-wearer is enough for Bruce to know that much. The kid is yelling louder, now, raving about the goons’ lack of fashion.

It’s agitating them enough for Bruce to slip from the rooftop, landing almost soundlessly in the shadows. He tenses, waits for one of the goons to start yelling at Dick, and then rolls out smoke pellets. They work almost immediately, and Bruce makes his move.

It’s only been a few years since he and Dick have started working together, and even less since they’ve worked together well enough to seamlessly fight half-blind. But, Bruce is careful, and soon, he has the lookout and one of Dick’s captors knocked out with well-placed blows, and as Dick takes out his other captor, Bruce catches the throat of the ring-wearer and slams him up against a chain-link face.

“Who is Jaquelyn Briggs?” Bruce growls out. He pays no attention to the fight behind him. Dick takes the last man out in less than ten seconds. The ring-wearer’s eyes are wide. Bruce slams him against the fence again. “Tell. Me. Now.”

“My—She’s my cousin, man!” the guy croaks, hands scrabbling at the glove crushing his windpipe. “The police—hrk—covered up her death! I know it!”

Bruce lets the ring-wearer fall to the ground. He starts to tie him up after he alerts Gordon to the situation.

Dick crouches down by the restrained ring-wearer, head tilted. “I don’t get why you had to surprise adopt me to find out whether or not the police covered up your cousin’s death. You could’ve just asked Commissioner Gordon and he would have helped you!”

Bruce sighs. “Robin.”

Dick looks up at him. “What? It’s true.”

“Stop using the words ‘surprise adopt’. It’s not funny.”

Dick smirks. “Au contraire, Mister Batman, sir. I think it’s hilarious.”

Bruce rolls his eyes under the cowl. He’s going to be hearing this one for a while. But, he thinks that he can probably live with it, now that his kid is back where he’s supposed to be—right next to him.

“We’re leaving, Robin.”

“’Kay! Bye, surprise adopted father who is no longer my surprise adopted father!”

“Robin.”

“Just say I’m funny and I’ll move on.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re probably right.”

Bruce rolls his eyes again, fonder and even more exasperated than the first time. He ushers Robin forward, and then they disappear into the night, the only trace that they were there the four men they’d tied up and left for the police.

Dick chatters the whole way home. Bruce wouldn’t have it any other way.

[cannotgiveafuck]

HEY SORRY ITS BEEN A FEW MONTHS HAVE A SHORT BBATTOWLB SNIPPET.

I put it up on AO3, though it may not be completely compliant in verse, but hey whatever.

Billy's identity has been revealed and he's dealing with the not quite immediate fallout.

(Spoilers for post BBATTOWLB main story line.)

-

The first time Marvel tried to leave Fawcett City, J'onn was there to stop him.

"I cannot allow you to pass city limits, Captain." He said, and moved to push Marvel back every time.

.

The second time Marvel tried to leave, Green Lantern was there.

Just lounging about in a hammock from his ring, looking at his phone like he was enjoying a relaxing day out.

"Sorry, bud," he said, only glancing up with a shrug. "You know the rules."

.

The third time Marvel was actually able to leave, because there was nobody around to stop him. Because they were all out at Metropolis fighting an army that didn't really exist because, well. Illusion magic.

Marvel really felt they could use a hand from the Champion of Magic himself.

Apparently, the others did not feel the same.

From the moment he showed up, those that noticed told him to stay aside, that they could handle it, that he could get hurt, that he should leave it to them.

"This isn't your fight, kiddo."

"Go back home, champ."

"Watch your back, kid."

Yeah. Well. This kid just saved their collective magic inept butts, so...

Superman did not see it that way. The second the fight was over, he was right there, back straight and shoulders broad and brows furrowed.

"That was reckless, Billy. You were not called in to join the fight, and if you had misstepped in the slightest someone could have seriously been hurt."

But he didn't misstep. This was a magic fight and hello, did they forget what he's good at? They could suspend him all they want, they couldn't keep him away from where he needed to be, they couldn't freaking ground him.

Something hot and uncomfortable unfurled in his chest. He felt his fists curl at his side, involuntary sparks of electricity snapped around them. On the inside, Billy felt like screaming. On the outside, Marvel felt his jaw clench.

"I understand that, but--"

"Do you?" Superman interrupted. He didn't believe him. "Do you really understand how much damage was done? How much more could have been done? This is why you're on suspension, Billy. You can't just go around getting into every fight--"

"Marvel."

"What?"

"My name is Marvel," he ground out with surprising calm. "And every fight that needs me is my fight, Superman."

Superman crossed his arms and stared him down, like Marvel wasn't as tall as him, as broad and muscled and powerful as he was. Like Marvel hadn't just saved their asses.

Marvel kept his chin up and eyes forward. He would not back down. Not even from his hero.

"Go home, Captain."

With the threat neutralized, the team watching, and civilians and news reporters starting to venture back out, Captain Marvel knew there was nothing else left for him there.

A bolt of lightning struck him.

Rather dramatic, as exits went. But like hell he was going home, where he was sure another Leaguer would come patrol, where he was being commanded to stay - so the Rock of Eternity it was.

.

He didn't try to leave Fawcett City for awhile after that. (At least, not in any way that they would notice).

.

There were no missions, no patrols, no monitor duties, no cafeteria hang outs or briefings or alerts. His communicator was forfeited, his access to the Watchtower denied, his place on the Justice League all but officially revoked.

However, with how often one of the other heroes showed up to assist him with his own city's emergencies, Marvel felt like he was seeing the League a lot more than he had before his suspension.

Since they couldn't really stop him, they interfered as much as possible.

The Flash would stop by and want to grab food, always ready to take Billy somewhere to eat, and sometimes he’d drag Hal with to mess around at an arcade, and well, would you look at that, there's a bank robbery taking place, lemme get that for you.

Green Arrow and Black Canary came to town during the week, asking him about his home life and family and schooling and what he wanted to do, as if there was anything besides being Captain Marvel, and they tried very hard to be very nice and very friendly and very nosy.

Kori frequently came blazing by. She would greet him with a hug and be excited to see him. Like she actually wanted to. Every time, she would excuse the lack of Roy and Jason, stating that they wanted to give him space. She would ask him if her presence was a burden, was unwanted. And every time Billy would say no and hold her hand just a bit tighter. There were never questions about his memory loss, about what he came to remember, as if she understood the precipice he was balancing on and only wanted to remind him she was there. Billy appreciated that a lot.

Even Doctor Fate showed up. Suddenly next to him in the middle of the night as he glided through the sky. Not saying much of anything, though Marvel could feel his stare, feel his assessment. There were questions he wanted to ask, answers he wanted known, but still he didn't push. He just floated alongside Marvel until he vanished again. It was creepy, but it could've been worse.

Very rarely, in the corner of his eye, he would spot Batman or Nightwing, just on the edge of a building's shadow. A few times during the day, Billy caught sight of Bruce or one of the other batfamily. They would be strolling through the streets like it was a normal occurrence for them to be in Fawcett, and every time, Billy ran the other way. The thought of meeting them like this, as himself, as street rat Billy Batson made his heart race and head dizzy. He couldn't do it. Not now, not yet.

.

Captain Marvel could hardly go on patrol without another hero showing up at some point, all of them seemingly taking shifts to watch him, to baby sit him in his own city. Like he couldn't be trusted any more. Like he couldn't be the hero he had been this whole time.

Billy couldn't sleep at night. Couldn't lie on his bare mattress in his apartment without jumping at the slightest of sounds. As if the others would barge in and take him as he slept. The wards that were put up awhile ago did not help soothe this fear. Tawny's reassurances that they would not let anyone take him only comforted him in so much that he did not want his Familiar harmed, either. Not for him, not because of him.

He spent a lot of time sleeping at the Rock, where at least he felt safe.

.

Superman never stopped by. Aside from that first confrontation in Metropolis, Marvel hadn't seen him. No lectures, no orders, no commands, not even static silence. Nothing. Word from Hal was he had originally wanted to actually ground Billy. Keep him at the Watchtower where he could be easily monitored and cared for. But the idea was shot down and he'd been a little miffed about it. Still, that didn't stop the spike of paranoia Billy felt upon learning it.

Diana never contacted him, either, surprisingly. And that hurt more than he thought it would. Marvel remembered the look of sadness on her face, the hidden anger in her voice, and the passion she gave as she tried to defend him, as he stood before the League and confessed to his deceit, to his lying. She looked like he betrayed her. Even if she showed up, Billy had no idea what he could possibly say to apologize, to make it better.

Victor's position in the League was on the line, too, and Billy hadn't heard any more from him except that he'd be out of touch for a bit while he was essentially grounded. For him, that meant staying at his Detroit home with supervision whilst on duty at the Watchtower. The curdling feeling of guilt that he had brought this onto his friend sent Billy into such distress he didn't leave the Rock for the whole day.

Constantine thought the whole thing was bollocks. Said they had no right to control him, to stop him. He also said a few curses about them and the Wizard, but Billy let it slide. It felt nice to have someone truly in his corner. When John offered to whisk him on a vacation for awhile, see the other side of the pond, Billy regretfully declined. He felt like that was running away from his problems and he hated that notion most of all. Still, he thanked John for talking to him, even if it was just through the mirror. It helped elevate the ache in his chest.

.

Billy hadn't felt this way - this distant, disconnected, and closed off way - in a very long time.

.

"You keep returning here, young Tháv̱ma."

Don't look at him, don't talk to him, don't listen to him.

"Over and over again, you grace these stone halls."

He's goading you. Don't fall for it. Don't fall for it!

"Tell me, do you miss the cold throne and all the power it holds so much?"

Don't fall for it! Don't listen! Don't--

"Or are you here for something else?"

Don't react! Don't--

"Perhaps you wish to find the echoes of the old Wizard's ghost haunting this Rock?"

Don't cry, don't cry, don't--

"Or perhaps... perhaps you wish to find solace in a familiar presence?"

Don't cry, don't--

"Tell me, how heavy is the burden of being both Wizard and Champion?"

Don't--

"You seem lonely, young Tháv̱ma."

I am.

Billy was so, so lonely.

"I know loneliness, and all its dark corners, very well."

Really?

"Oh, yes. Spent thousands of years trapped and alone."

Of course, Teth Adam would understand.

"I am here."

Please.

"I will listen."

Please.

"Talk to me, young Tháv̱ma."

Billy didn't want to be alone anymore.

[greycappedjester]

If it’s ok, could we get a small clip of the next chapter?

Sure!....which story?

Um, here’s one for all of them. It’s long (very, very long) so I’m putting it under “Read More”

(All story segments are not fully edited and may change)

Tooru Oikawa and the Triwizard Tournament

Yamaguchi squinted towards the other side of the Great Hall. “So have they….made up now?”

A few tables down, Kageyama and Hinata seemed to be in the middle of a very loud and very spirited argument on whether condiments could ever count as side dishes. Grievous insults to intelligence had been made and threats of murder were likewise issued.

“I think so.” Ennoshita didn’t sound confident.

Hinata attempted to tackle Kageyama off of his bench.

“But, they’re still not playing together for Quidditch,” Yamaguchi confirmed

Kageyama shoved an apple in Hinata’s face.

Asahi watched wide-eyed. “They said they couldn’t yet.”

A resulting debate over the term 'breakfast fruit’ emerged. It was somehow even more heated.

“But, they’re not fighting?” Yamaguchi had to confirm.

“Suga says they aren’t,” Daichi said.

They had now decided to share the apple. Yachi beamed from beside them. Lev booed.

Yamaguchi decided there and then. “I’m never going to understand their relationship.”

“They’re idiots,’ Tsukishima concluded.

And, thus, the most watched and highly contentious fight of the entire school year--Tournament included--finally came to its baffling end.

--------

After the Fall of Olympus

(Sorry, it’s a depressing one--partly because I can’t take out much from the chapter without giving away a really major spoiler that’s revealed in the first scene)

Dick and Donna have this thing they do. 

It started maybe three years after the invasion, before Kory’s ship landed, and when everything was still raw but finally slowly trying to get better. 

They’d been in the tower alone, both on monitor duty, when Donna had turned to him and out of the blue asked, “Dick, tell me about Wally West?”

“What,” Dick had asked, too surprised even to feel the pain that sharply.

“You and Roy mention him every now and then. He was your best friend, right? I want to know more about him.”

Dick had just stared. Stared until Donna had admitted in a too quiet voice. “I’m tired of not being able to talk about them.”

So Dick had talked. At the start, it wasn’t even about anything important. Just about what a huge chemistry nerd Wally was. How he flirted with girls non-stop. The time he’d tried to phase through a wall and got half way through before panicking. And then, slowly, Dick moved on to important things. When Dick first told him his secret identity. How Wally had wanted to grow up to be just like his uncle. What Dick had felt when he saw his body.

Donna talked, too. About her sister. About growing up with Diana, about the numb shock watching her death on the news, about wondering if her sister would be proud of her and the a million and one times she was scared of living up to the reputation.

It became a routine. Not every day. Not even every few months. But, now and again, one of them would seek the other out and Donna would talk about Diana or some of her other Amazonian teachers lost in the invasion and Dick would talk about Wally and M’gann and Artemis and Connor and Kaldur and….and Bruce. One time, Dick even talked about Superman.

They talked and the pain didn’t go away--not fully, not ever--but eased until they felt like they could breathe again, until they could remember a past that was colored by more than just the pain of their deaths.

-------

Walking With My Eyes Open

Gen wasn’t a kind man; he was pragmatic.  And he’d long decided he’d do absolutely anything, sink to any kind of low, be however ruthless he needed if it meant saving Senkuu’s life. 

So….

Decisions, decisions.

He shredded a petal under his nails and tossed it down.

“Gen?” A blonde head popped up beside him. “What are you doing?”

He smiled, making sure it was a soft one despite his mood. Because he absolutely believed in playing favorites and when it came to the village--to his entire life, actually--it wasn’t hard to guess the people that rested on top.

Suika smiled back, a glimpse of bright blue eyes shining through the shadows of her mask. Then, she tilted her head and lowered her voice. “Are you hiding from work?”

Gen laughed, pressing a finger to his lips. “Maybe a bit. Don’t tell on me, okay?” He winked. “Besides, I was considering some options. Thinking counts as work, too, doesn’t it?”

Suika nodded, glancing down at the growing pile of mangled petals then to the daisy Gen was still steadily demolishing. “And the flowers are helping you think?”

Actually, Gen had just been feeling murderous towards flowers lately. Call it enacting justice vicariously.

“Not particularly.” He picked up another flower from beside him and instead of shredding it, started to fold. “You’re right. I think there’s a better use for these.”

A few more quick movements and he wove a flower bracelet, just small enough to slip over Suika’s wrist. 

Her grin brightened, looking at it like it was the next great marvel--so, at least Gen had accomplished one thing today.

“It’s so pretty,” Suika said, looking up to see it closer. “And the flowers are so close together. Can you teach me?”

“Sure, once we get some more flowers.” He picked up the last one, winding his fingers around the stem. “You know, now that you mention it. There is an old game about flowers and decisions. Want to hear it?”

Suika sat patiently in front of him, eyes fixed on the daisy because of course, she wanted to learn. What other village could this be?

“It’s very simple.” Gen counted off with one hand, flower in the other. “Two phrases, you pick a petal on each and the one you land on is your answer.” Gen picked a petal. “He loves me.” Another petal. “He loves me not….” 

Suika gave a small gasp. “Flowers can tell you if someone’s in love?”

Gen didn’t laugh because he knew it would be bitter.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s just a game. Back before--ah, before even me and Senkuu, that is--ladies would play it to see if their beloved would ever return their affections. It’s silly.”

“So…,” Suika thought a bit, “it’s like a wish, then?”

“I think I’m using it more as a hex,” Gen muttered as he got to the last petal and glared.

He loves me.

Well, fuck. 

Gen supposed that’s what he deserved for trusting flowers.

He gave his largest, most theatrical sigh for Suika’s sake. “Ahhh, Suika-chan, look at that! It seems like I lost. More’s the pity for me!”

Suika grinned up at him, hopping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his hips. “It’s okay! I still love you.”

Gen patted her head, smiling despite himself.

“Maybe you were using the wrong flower,” Suika told him.

“Could be.”

“I’ll go get more,” Suika promised. “Then, you can find one that’ll work.”

“More flowers is a good idea,” Gen agreed. “But, I think I’m tired of this game. Why don’t I teach you how to make the best flower crowns in the entire stone world? Then, we’ll both have to be the most beloved people in the whole village, won’t we?”

Immediately, Suika ran off to the woods and Gen watched her go.

At least, flowers could do good somewhere. 

He looked down at the mangled flowers. A daisy, purity and innocence.

With a shift of his heel, he ground them a little further into the ground..

Flowers were an awfully pointless thing to blame; but, Gen was petty and they were easier than the alternative.

Still. He taught Suika how to make flower crowns and when she pressed one last bloom into his hand, so excited to find the last one of the season, he took it like his heart hadn’t plunged to his feet.

It was hard to look at black nightshade and forget it was a poison.

-------

Call Me Your Home At Night

(Note: very, very subject to edit. Part of the reason this one has taken awhile is rewrites while I work on tone)

Atsumu was shouting--voice tinny over the phone speakers--and Hinata’s blender was doing its best impressions of death throes while Hinata frantically tried to keep both the chord at the one angle it worked and hold the blender’s lid down so the entire kitchen didn’t end up coated in a weird grey mix of protein shake and bananas. Again. For the fifth time. 

In other words, it was a normal morning. 

From the part of his mind that noticed these things, Hinata thought it was kinda funny that Atsumu had learned to time his complaining to coordinate with the aggressive disaster that was Hinata’s morning routine.

Like the world’s weirdest symphony, the opposite of harmonizing. A disharmony! That was it!

“Seriously, what the fuck is a ward court and how is it different than a family court? Why do we even need two courts for divorce? Huh? Why not just shove a paper at us and have it done!” Atsumu’s voice got increasingly petulant. “Shouyou, it’s like the entire country is trying to keep good, decent people married! Why does it hate us?”

It was a close call; but, in a competition between one aggravated setter on speaker phone and the relentless whirring of the cheapest blender Hinata could find on the internet, Atsumu still managed to fight his way through.

Hinata gave the phone a sympathetic look even if he knew Atsumu couldn’t see it. He turned off the defeated foe and mentally crowned Atsumu the winner of Disharmony 2016: Blender vs. Atsumu edition. Not that he had much doubt. 

“Find anything you like with grounds for divorce?”

Atsumu grumbled which meant no.

Then, Atsumu huffed which meant no and the world wasn’t fair!

So, apparently, divorce was harder than it looked. Actually, a lot of things about this “being married” thing were more complicated than they thought and, in the month since they’d been technically married, Hinata had frequently and strongly fantasized about grabbing his past self by the shoulders and shaking him while screaming ‘WHY?!’ right at his face.

Like taxes!

Who knew how to do taxes? Who knew that taxes were apparently due this month? Including married people taxes which apparently were more complicated and had things like joint filing or separate and dependants and a bunch of other words that Hinata still didn’t understand completely. It wasn’t like he could ask his Mom for help after everything or even beg Yachi or Kenma like usual because that would bring up the whole marriage thing and, ugh, no, no, no, no.

Hinata was pretty sure he and Atsumu had figured it out. Enough, at least. Getting arrested for tax evasion seemed like something that only happened on the news so it was probably fine.

Uh, so, yeah, between the whole moving to Brazil thing and figuring out stuff like rent and utilities and meeting the indoor volleyball team he’d be working with plus some of the beach volleyball players and trying to get his new roommate Pedro to talk to him about things other than laundry and groceries and trying to remember the difference between bolo and bola and finding a job and Atsumu dealing with MSBY promotion stuff and interviews and getting ready for pro-volleyball next season and then them both having to deal with stuff like taxes and still being weirded out about all the accidental wedding stuff in general, they…..well, they hadn’t gotten much done about the whole divorce thing.

Okay, more like they’d gotten exactly one thing done and that was figuring out a time to freak out about all the things they hadn’t gotten done. The good news was that the exactly twelve hour time difference was sorta perfect since it meant Hinata got back from his morning jog about the same time Atsumu came home for dinner, which meant that quickly became their agreed time to call with updates.

….which usually tailed off into both of them talking about volleyball instead because volleyball was a whole lot more fun.

Hinata very carefully pushed aside the resulting mental montage of sand scraping along his arms on a missed receive and feet sinking into the ground and landing face first in burning sand that was happening way more than he’d expected.

Hinata shook his head, scraping the not-very-blended protein shake out of his blender. “I’ll try to look some stuff up this afternoon.”

“Isn’t your laptop still being screwy?”

“...Maybe.” It was more like Hinata’s ancient laptop had given a sudden death kneel--complete with hisses and the screen flashing--and Hinata was sorta scared he’d get electrocuted if he even touched it. “I’ll use my phone.”

“I could just buy you a laptop, you know,” Atsumu muttered. It wasn’t the first time; Hinata even knew his next line.

Hinata grinned. “That’s really sweet, Atsumu. Absolutely not, you’re already doing enough of the research anyway.”

“Shut up,” Atsumu grumbled. “I am not sweet, this is a trade. Your laptop’s a piece of crap, like actually the worst and I--like any normal human being--am doing my part in putting it out of its misery. Basic compassion right here.”

“But, I don’t need a new laptop,” Hinata insisted like he always did. “I’ve got my phone. That’ll work until I get a job.”

Which he was totally going to get. Soon, too. It was just a little harder than he thought when he didn’t really have a great grip on the language yet.

“Hinata, I’m begging you as a friend here, please don’t resort to selling your organs on the black market.”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “I would never do that. I need them for volleyball.”

“Is that seriously the only reason?”

“Think about how long surgery recovery would take,” Hinata teased. “I only have two years here.”

“I worry about you. Like fundamentally.”

Hinata tilted his head. “But what if I could get like super organs instead.”

“Like Terminator?”

“Yeah! I’m pretty sure I read a manga where that happened once.” He paused. “Oh my gosh, Atsumu, imagine how amazing volleyball would be with superpowers!”

“There’s no way the V.League would approve that.” Atsumu breathed in. “But, what if…”

“I’d get super speed,” Hinata broke in excitedly, “or maybe flying. Oh, or super strength! Imagine hitting a spike with super strength!”

“Awesome!” Atsumu’s voice was speeding up. “What if I had one of those specialty powers like super precision or something! It could get around so many blockers; Suna would be so pissed off! I could set the ball anywhere!”

Hinata huffed. “You already do that.”

Atsumu broke off, sounding pleased. “Really?”

“Of course,” Hinata said. “Hey, wait, how was practice? You got to meet the new libero, right?”

“Yeah, Inunaki--he’s pretty cool. He was mainly working with--” Atsumu cut off, “Fuck, Shou, I gotta tell you about this thing Barnes and I did!”

Atsumu started rambling--words choppy and quick as he got deeper into the retelling of practice in a way that had Hinata hanging off every word. In an abstract sense, Hinata knew that he himself was a people person; he’d always been good at making friends and deeply appreciated every single one he was able to hang onto.

He’d never had a friend like Atsumu.

-------

Shuffling the Deck

(Since it’s late, have an entire opening scene)

ooooooo- 30 Years Prior -ooooooo

Once there was a girl who grew up with her grandmother in a barely patched house, closed in by cliffs.

She was a quiet girl, a pretty face and delicate hands always kept clean despite the threadbare clothes that hung more like rags. The girl did not like to play with the other children which was fitting as they didn’t much like to play with her either.

Instead, she liked to read.

And, more than that, she liked to watch the garden.

Which is what she chose to do, one day at eight years old on the same morning a prominent merchant staggered in to see her grandmother--a terrible illness spreading through his veins and blood in his cough.

The girl was fine with blood but didn’t care for coughing so she stayed exactly where she was, laying on her stomach with head propped in hands while she took in the delicate threads of a spider web.

She always thought the webs were the prettiest part of the garden. They were so very thin and frail that one could barely notice them until they got up close. And, then, once they saw them, they could see the patterns and shapes so carefully woven as if by an artisan.

Sometimes, she even saw the spider. 

Sometimes, she tried to get it to crawl to her hand.

 It never did though. No matter what she did. The spider was too cautious, too scared of what it believed had power over it.

That was how spiders worked, really. They spun their masterpieces with so much care and precision and, then, they waited patiently for the art to be observed.

The girl was not the only one who found the spider web this morning.

A fly had come across the threads first--likely by accident but the girl liked to imagine that it was the beauty that had drawn the fly in the same as it had done her.

She wondered if the fly still appreciated the art of the web.

It was still alive.

She watched it struggle. Its wings beat uselessly, its many legs trapped in the delicate threads, and a buzzing cry sounding so frantic for such a small creature.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

But, that would mean tearing down the gorgeous web that she adored.

But, that would mean the spider may starve and there would be no new web tomorrow.

And, besides, why did she care about dirtying her hands for the sake of a dying fly.

The door of the cottage opened and the girl glanced up idly.

The merchant was stumbling out, gratitude and lavish promises on his breath and a healthy glow back in his cheeks. Her grandmother was smiling kindly, accepting the praise yet turning down the offers same as she always did until eventually the merchant went away.

The girl looked back to the web.

The fly was dead, quickly being wrapped up by the spider to save for later.

She turned back to her grandmother. “He was rich, you know? I heard the other kids talking about him in town. His shipping business goes all the way up to the wealthy islands in the north. If you let him do even half the things he offered, we could live in a mansion and you wouldn’t have to hurt your fingers so much mending clothes.” The tone wasn’t accusing, merely curious. “Why did you say no?”

“Oh, my dear,” Her grandmother leaned down to kiss her hair and the girl allowed it, “because our powers are a gift. They’re not meant to be hoarded and offered for a price. They’re meant to be shared. Besides,” the woman sighed as she watched the road, “what kind of price would that be? Who would I be to demand it? Those who are desperate--for their lives, for those they love--would pay anything. They’d do anything. Who could ever put a price on such a weight? It’s beyond human measure.” 

She smiled down at her granddaughter. “Do you understand, my darling Mimi?”

Maemi frowned before nodding, looking down at the spider web. 

“Yes, I understand.”

There was no way to know what would have happened if the old woman took up the merchant’s offer. Likely she never would have. She was not that type of person. All that there was to know is that the grandmother and the little girl remained at the patched up cottage, just like they had the girl’s whole life and her grandmother’s life before hers.

They were there six months later when the oceans swelled and brought the waves into shore. 

They were not both there after.

Six months later, a man and a girl waded through water as they searched a broken down cottage for survivors.

Well, the man searched at least.

The girl had stopped beside a tree, tall and strong enough to survive a tsunami.

On the bottom branch, at the lowest hanging twig, was a spider’s web just barely managing not to be swept into the water.

The spider was still alive.

But, it wouldn’t be for long.

It struggled, trying to climb up faster even as the bottom of its beautiful web was destroyed by the current.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

So, she did.

She snapped a twig from another branch and held it out for the spider to crawl, too. It did willingly, anything to avoid the water below.

It had never crawled to her hand before.

Not like it did now when it was desperate for life.

Maemi watched her dear spider crawl into her open hand.

And, then, she plunged her hand into the water and watched her dear spider drown.

“Yes, grandmother, I understand completely.”

[soriseerakyra]

Nice To Meet You -19-

Hello every one, sorry it’s been so long. There is a post on my page if you want to find out what's happening. If not, please enjoy.

TW: Violence, bad language, death

This was different. Or maybe it was normal, Bruce couldn’t tell. He knew he attracted attention, that he was a status boost to any party, but this felt wrong. From the moment he stepped past the makeshift foyer, he’d felt eyes on him, watching his every move. He tossed his famous, charming smile to everyone he passed, but instead of getting the swooning effect that he was so used to causing, he was treated to strange polite smiles. As if he was intruding.  

 “Bruce Wayne?” The questioning voice sent a chill down Bruce’s spine. 

He turned to look at the voice who called him and found a smiling blond man. 

“Michael Carlisle,” The man says, extending a large hand to shake. Bruce accepts the hand and firmly shakes it. At the interaction, the crowd that had been not-so-secretly eyeing the interaction of the CEO’s had all returned to their conversations. The allure of seeing the cities’ most famous billionaire, apparently not worth more than a sideways glance.   

“A pleasure,” Bruce says, responding with a smile. “It’s a shame that we haven’t met before tonight.” 

“It truly is, which is why what I’m going to say next may appear a little rude, but what are you doing here? I didn’t think a party like mine would even be on your radar,” The man asks with childishly wide excited eyes.  

“Nothing rude about that,” Bruce says, returning his hand to his sides. “Believe me, I’ve gotten much worse when I’ve shown up unannounced.” 

The man lets a smile quirk at the end of his lips as he waits for Bruce to answer the other part of his question. His blue eyes watch Bruce with fascination. Flicking from the top of Bruce’s hair and down to his shoes. Why is Carlisle sizing him up? 

“To be honest,” Bruce says, lowering his voice to make the conversation more intimate. He leans his body toward the boyish man and brings up a practiced hand to hide his mouth. “I’m doing a bit of shopping.” 

“Shopping?” The younger man questions with furrowed, manicured brows. “OH! Do you need an accounting firm?!” 

Bruce straightens his back a little, almost startled by his lack of discretion. 

“I’m surprised Wayne enterprises doesn’t have its own firm in-house.” 

“We do,” Bruce says with a shrug of his shoulders. “But I’m always looking for new talent, especially when one of my own is retiring.” 

The lie rolls off of his tongue smoothly, and judging by the blond man’s nod of assent, it was enough to ward off some suspicion. 

“So, you’re here to steal some of my up-and-coming talent, huh?” Carlisle asks ribbing the older man in the ribs. 

Bruce flinches away slightly, not expecting to be touched so informally. 

The blond man must have caught the hint of his displeasure that rang across his face for a split-second because a frown pulled at his lips.  

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable Bruce, I’m just glad I didn’t hug you like I wanted to when I first saw you. I’m a big hugger.” 

If Bruce wasn’t as practiced at maintaining his cover as he was, he would have scrunched up his face in confusion at the man. This was who she had worked for? Had believed in enough to move across the country for? He seemed more than overbearing, and as skittish as she was it was impossible to see her getting past an interview with this man, let alone going to work every single day for him. 

“If that turned you off, though, I’m afraid that you might not find anyone here who you’d want to work with you. We're all family here, lots of huggers.” 

The man lets out a laugh and some nearby party goers that were supposedly “giving them their space” chuckled.  

“I know I don’t look it, but I can get touchy-feely when need be.” 

The man’s blue eyes narrow and Bruce can feel a shift in atmosphere as the man’s once jovial face becomes stony. 

“We don’t call it being touchy-feely Mr. Wayne,” Carlisle says stoically. “We- I have made it a point to build a family here. A company based on empathy.  This isn’t 'touchy-feely’ foolishness. This is the future. How we build a company that lasts. But I suppose someone like you who’s never had to work for anything would know about that would you?” 

The party is once again silent and all eyes are on the pair of men, although not in a way that Bruce is used to. He hadn’t expected that man to be so volatile; it was only a harmless comment, no malice behind it. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Bruce apologizes quietly, “It wasn’t intentional.” 

Carlisle’s nostrils flare in anger, his throat turns red, and a vein pulses lightly at his temple. 

‘A severe overreaction,’ Bruce notes. 

A clicking of heels pierces the silence, as Bruce notices a rather tall red head approaching the pair. A striking pair of blue eyes assess Bruce sternly, a frown pulling at her red lips as she apparently found the man lacking. 

Bruce watches as a slender hand grip Carlisle's shoulder tightly, the pressure being applied only noticeable because of the wrinkling of fabric. 

“There's been a call for you Mr. Carlisle,” the woman says with a pleasant tone. 

“A call?” The man asks, blond brows furrowing in confusion. The woman tightens her grip on his shoulder, and he seems to relent. “Ah, yes, of course.” 

“I’m afraid that we must continue this conversation later, Mr. Wayne,” Carlisle says, swallowing his anger and trying to force the same pleasant smile on his face. “Enjoy the party.” 

His eyes flicker around to the other party goers and with a nod of his head he hurries away. Bruce quickly loses sight of the man as he heads further into the venue, mobbed by a sea of people willing to help aid in his escape. 

Bruce bites the inside of his cheek in irritation. This had not gone the way he intended. He wasn’t used to losing at the charm offensive. 

He cuts his eye back to the tall woman who stood there with a rather pleased smirk on her face, arms crossed in a rather unimpressed fashion. As the chatter, light music, and dancing resumed, Bruce moved closer to the woman. 

“Sorry to have interrupted your conversation Mr. Wayne, but I’m sure you know that running a company can be a twenty-four-hour job,” She states smoothly, her thick red mane tumbling to the side as she lightly cocks her head.  

“It’s not a problem. And as hectic as business can be, I’m sure dealing with an annoying party guest, is much tougher.” 

The woman lets out a low chuckle, “Believe me, you aren’t the worst we’ve had to deal with.”

“Is that right? Tell me more, miss?” 

“Trainer, Kristen Trainer,” She says, extending her black tipped fingers to shake his hand. 

“Let me guess, you’re the brains behind the operation,” He says a smile easily finding its way on his face. 

“More like the conductor. Without me none of this,” she makes a circling motion with her finger, “happens.” 

“Ah, I get it. The boss’ boss.” 

“What can I say, being the executive assistant is glamorous.” 

They share a chuckle and then a silence falls over the pair.  

Trainer breaks it first, a coyness flitting over her blue eyes, “So when are you going to ask me to dance?” 

“Oh, I’d never assume you’d want to dance with me, I practically ran your boss away.” 

“Like I said,” She nearly glides as she walks toward him and takes his hand, leading them both toward the dance floor. “You aren’t the worst we've had.” 

Bruce lets a smirk cross his face. Perhaps he wasn’t as off of his game as he thought he was. 

*** 

Jason was more than sure that Bruce always stuck him with the shit jobs. If he was only a few years younger, he would have been proud to take them. He would have thought Bruce trusted him with the more troublesome parts of the jobs, that he was preparing him to be his true successor. Being older, wiser, and having endured more than his fair share torture proved to him it was probably the exact opposite.  

 Even now, it always felt like Bruce was testing him, waiting for him to go rogue, do something that broke the rules. He knew that the older man was always waiting for him to slip up, coiled to attack anytime he did something less polite than a beating a thug senseless.

 The thoughts cause Jason's shoulders to tense in irritation, but he can’t let his annoyance distract him from the mission.  At the moment, he found himself on the top floor of the once vacant wharf building.  If one were to enter from this floor, you wouldn’t assume that a high-class shindig was going on downstairs. Comparatively, it wasn’t the worst place that he’d ever been in; there was a distinct lack of rats he was more than grateful for. The bare walls and exposed beams were a little strange though. According to intel, provided by the Brownie Woman, not only had this not been the first party held in this place, they also owned the building. Who quits renovating when the project is only halfway done? 

 ‘Someone who’s more worried about appearances than substance,’ He thinks to himself with slightly pursed lips. 

 He rolls his shoulders as he prepares himself to explore the building. He wouldn’t be able to do it for long. Since the assholes hadn’t finished the place, there wasn’t a steady supply of air flowing through the place. Having already climbed up into the building after gently detonating a small explosive on one of the back walls, he didn’t want to risk alerting anyone just to accommodate his breathing.

 With a sigh, he approached one of the newer-looking walls. It looked thin, like it was only a standing piece of paper, and mostly, he had been right.  With a slight wind up, his fist had easily found its way through the wall, white particles crumbling around his hand as the sheet rock easily gave way. The wall continues to splinter as he works his hands through it, and soon enough he has a hole big enough for him to slide through.

  When he gets to the other side, he's not totally surprised to see a mostly dilapidated area. Cobwebs, fallen pieces of plywood, and exposed pipes let him know that he's in a part of the building that has barely had any traffic. What has him slightly surprised though, were the construction lamps littering the floor. As the holes in the floor allow him to see both above and below him; the glow from the lamps on the other floors hit his eyes like fireflies. Despite only having worked to make some of this place look nice, there was activity going on throughout the whole wharf. It was strange really, buying out multiple buildings on the wrong side of Gotham just throw parties? The only way he wouldn't have found the situation not strange is if Bruce had been the one buying up the land. At least that way he'd at least have a guess what the man would be doing. And it was especially strange for an accounting firm to buy property that had nothing to do with campus expansion.

'Unless they're washing money for the mob.'

The thought hits Jason, and he can't help the smirk that crosses his face.

“Hey dipshit,” he says connecting his ear piece. “Are there any familiar faces in the crowd?”

He gets irritated slightly when he doesn't get a response right away. The old man wasn't going to ice him out because he called him a few names, was he? How professional.

“I don't seem to know many people here.” Is the response that comes back over the earpiece and Jason's haunches relax a little. He wasn't being ignored, Bruce was in the middle of a conversation.

Jason doesn't hear the response from the person who Bruce was talking with, but he gives about fifteen seconds pause, a chance for Bruce to listen to the other person, before he responds.

“You sure?" Jason questions skeptically, as he maneuvers farther into the building, careful to avoid loose or weak floor boards. "This place looks like a perfect place to wash some dirty cash."

"I really thought I knew everyone there is to know in this town," Bruce responds with a bit of a chuckle.

Not a familiar face in sight? That was putting a damper on the idea that these people had some kind of mob ties. When it came to mobsters Bruce had a practically photographic memory of their faces. For him not to recognize anyone meant that either there was a new organization or there was no mob there at all.

"I'll keep looking," he responds slightly irritated. He doesn't get a response, and he doesn't need one.

It's not long before he comes up to the next connecting wall.  Pressing his hand up against the wall, he finds that it's almost as thin as the other one he'd come through. With another well-placed fist, he easily forces his way through the wall once again. As he pulls out the rubble, sensors in his mask begin to go off. He pauses in his excavation for a moment, silencing his one movement. It's quiet for a moment but then there is a rhythmic thumping streaming into his right ear, then the sounds stop. There is the creaking of wood and then the thumping resumes and fades out. The thought comes to his mind before the computer in his mask flashes the analysis on the screen.

 Footsteps.

 A patrol route.

 Now that he had found what he was looking for, he'd have to be more careful. The general rule was if he could hear them, they could hear him.  And although most people didn't have access to the tech he did, he was sure that the rule had saved his ass multiple times.

 Carefully this time, he pulls himself through a smaller hole, he wouldn't make more noise than was necessary. Almost immediately he could see the shadows of movement dancing against the yellow lights of the construction lamp. The presence of these shadows made his heart jump slightly; if he was asked about it later he wouldn't say he was afraid, just a little freaked out. His sensors had only picked up the thudding of one person, he was sure of that. But right in front of his eyes, and how the shadows played with each other, he could tell that they're at least six people in his immediate vicinity. He had been lucky that no one had been just on the other side of the wall when he had ripped through.

 'No footsteps?' He questions internally with a slightly panicked voice that he would yell about to himself later.

 He crouches down, his knees bending easily to accommodate the familiar position and his weight  as he moves forward with as gentle a step that he can muster. Some might be surprised by how stealthy the young man could be, especially wearing the heavy combat boots he loved so much. But Jason practiced that much harder to mask his sound, he'd keep his aesthetic and be the deadliest thing you'd never hear coming.

 He makes his way to a worn wooden wall, marked with holes about the width of a small child's fist, perfect for getting an eye on a target, so he could know what he was dealing with. As he presses himself against the wall, the dancing of the shadows gives way, and he's clear about how many people that he would deal with on this floor.

  He'd only been one off, seven instead of six. But the thought of being mostly right didn't give him any sense of victory. His stomach twisted into knots as two of the figures moved past each other. He wasn't crazy, he damn sure knew that, but he was sure as hell that his eyes were playing tricks on him, because he was seeing double. Two carbon copies of the same person walking past each other with small barely visible flashlights cradled in identical vine like fingers. The words thin and tall didn't seem to do justice to the visage of men he sees before him, but those are the only words that come to mind. That and their faces are obscured with long black hair that is so thick, he isn't even sure there is a face underneath. They're filthy, he can tell that even if the nature of their outfits is muddled by the dimness of the surrounding lights. Their pale skin has brown almost black splotches of dirt or soil that almost seem pressed into their skin. The skin itself is so pale and sickly that it is almost a green color; he gags slightly about how awful they must smell.

 Finally, he looks down, and he hopes to see what is blocking out the sound of their footsteps from coming through on his sensors. He's surprised to find disproportionately enormous feet. Grimy as the rest of their bodies, he can tell that the men are extremely flat-footed. The way their feet meet the sections of floor that they walk on causes their toes to widen, spreading out what little weight they had evenly throughout their step. Coupled with the fact that they moved rather slowly, taking only the most deliberate of steps, the two beings in front of him were virtually silent. The only sound that seemed to give way to any hint of their presence was the air that seemed to be forcing its way out of their chest. Like the wheeze of an asthmatic, the beings swayed slightly whenever they had to breathe. Luckily for Jason, the minute difference in their breathing was enough for the computer to pick up on, and a visualized patrol route formed right before his eyes.

 Time seems to slow as he watches the forms move back and forth. It's not a large beat, about the visible width of the building; but even though the route is small, the guys were slow. Would he be able to pounce on one without alerting the other? Or would that be too much of a risk to take? While he had keyed into their breathing, he hadn't been able to locate any more guards. He probably wouldn't know they were there until he was right on top of them.

 Jason decides that it would be best to avoid them. He doesn't know their strength and the amount of noise that he could generate isn't worth the hell that it could bring down upon him.

 He watches them for a moment longer, there is a moment in their path where they stop and stare at each other, as if they are sharing information about what they'd seen on their walk around. That's when he'd make his move.

 It doesn't take long until they meet at the center of the room, standing in front of one of the construction lamps. They meet each other, staring into the dark void where their eyes should be. He breathes in deeply, his muscles tighten as he focuses. With a push he's off.

 Quickly, he's around the walls and trying to push himself to the next darkened area that he can find. There he could make his next move and try to get his bearings about where he needs to go. His first push is quiet, and he's able to launch himself forward with no issues. His practiced eyes immediately start scouting out where he should aim for. He should have planned for his destination before taking off, but he had always been an impulsive boy and that probably wouldn't change regardless of how many years of experience he got underneath his belt. 

 His eyes immediately go to the far wall on the other side of the floor, it’s where the other drywall had been, and he figured that it was likely the only way to get away from the danger of the unknown. He's slightly surprised however to see a change in floor planning. Instead of the crumbly wall that he had been punching through repeatedly he saw brick, but not just that, a door.

 'Into the lion's den,' he thinks aiming his body in that direction.

 His foot hits the floorboard in a soft practiced motion but a loud squeak still scratches out of the piece of wood underneath him. The wheezes of the guards that are playing in his ear stop mid breath, and he can almost feel them scanning for him. But he's quick. As soon as his other foot comes down, he's launched himself into the shadows of a jagged wall. He pauses for a moment. One of the dim flashlights glides over his general vicinity. When the light passes over the end of the floor, it lingers on the door surrounded by brick. After several seconds, a low grunt sounds in his ear. The computer in his helmet shows that the route of the guards has changed. They are headed over to the wooden wall where he was previously hidden.

 He doesn't hesitate, and he's off again, this time his approach is silent, and he reaches the door with no issue. A curious part of him wants to turn around and get a glimpse of those "guards" but he thinks better off it. He opens the door quickly and quietly, and he pushes through to the other. 

 Unsurprisingly, much like the rest of the building, the room he's in now is almost pitch black. The only things lighting up the place  are yellow industrial lights nestled into a brick wall.  However, unlike the rest of the building, he finds himself at the top of a black metal staircase that seems to spiral down, seemingly endless in the thick blackness. He’d be an idiot to continue with no back-up. To top it all off, the sensors in his ears have rung again. Not with the wheezing breaths of the first guards he encountered, but with the thumping footsteps that had seemed so distant when he first started. He wasn't keen on finding out what was causing them. Did he think he could kick whoever or whatever it was ass? Of course. But fighting in a place like this admittedly left him at a disadvantage, wasn’t a good idea.  That and he didn’t want to make good on Bruce's premonition that he would have to be bailed out at the end of the night.

 With an irritated roll of his shoulders he starts down the stairs, but not before he turns on a tracker. If shit did hit the fan, he didn't want to be stuck underground for the rest of his life. 

 The swirl of the downward spiraling stairs seems to go on forever and based on how long it took him to reach the bottom, Jason is sure that he's underwater at that point. The pounding of footsteps in his ear irritates him, but he doesn't turn it off because they begin to get louder. Aside from that, the sensitive pieces of tech have picked up chatter. At least he thinks it's talking.  He can't really be sure, the sound is staticky and descending further below doesn't seem to help. Either he's picked up on some shitty talk radio show or there is something partially dampening the signal.

 It doesn't take too much more time before he reaches the bottom of the stairs. It's so dark that he wouldn't be able to see the toe of his boot if he didn't have the helmet on, though he might have been grateful for the lack of sight when a gigantic rat ran over his boots. 

 The stairs let out into a dank wet hallway. There is enough water on the ground that it covers his ankles. Clearly, no one had given a shit about drowning when they were "renovating" this part of the building.

 At the end of the hall there is a single hanging lamp, casting a dreary white light on the familiar red brick. And there is also another door. He splashes his way through the water to reach the end of the hall, and he is almost there before something causes him to stop. The thumping of footsteps had stopped. Instinctually, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his skin prickled. He was unprotected, he realized, exposed. It really hadn't been a good idea to charge down into this hallway without making a plan. He could go back, get his bearings and then try again. 

 The thumping resumes, but only for a moment. Whatever was making those footsteps, he realized was listening. Likely, it had heard him coming down the stairs and sloshing through the water. And it's listening to him now, waiting for him to make another move and confirm its suspicion. 

 He steps back, moving his leg as gingerly as possible, barely stirring the water. It doesn't seem to arouse in any further action, and he makes to move his other leg in much the same way. His breathing seems loud in his own ears, why was he so afraid? He'd gotten the shit kicked out of him before, been on the brink of death. Perhaps it's just his lizard brain just acting up on him. His breathing is getting heavier still, so loud in his ear, almost like... was he wheezing?

 The thought and Jason's reflexes happen at the same time. He's tucked and rolling forward just as his thin arm comes arcing through the air. One of the thin men, or maybe another that had been lurking about, stands just out of the light of the hallway and the blow that was meant for Jason sends red dust into the hair as a spidery arm pierced the brick.

 'Could've been my head' he thinks quickly as he is standing up again. 

 But he's not on his feet for long. He almost doesn't hear the loud sloshing of water, and he tries to roll forward again when he does, but it's too late. Enormous arms wrapped around his midriff holding him tight against a large protruding belly.

  "Looky looky, little lamb came to see me again."

  He doesn't have to turn around to see the voice of the creature that has him hostage. It was the butcher, the one that he had saved Bruce's Brownie Woman from. He didn't understand how, though. Although he hadn't sent the gargantuan man to the grave himself, both he and Dick had confirmed that he had driven that beat up old van into the water. There was no way he would have gotten out in time to survive the depths of the bay.

  The Butcher squeezes and shakes Jason from side to side, like he was trying to pop his head off. Not only did he have to contend with that, the wheezing thin man was beginning to slowly make his way down the hallway, his fingers arched ready to aim and fire and stick Jason like a pig. 

 While his arms are bound to his sides, he has enough reach and wriggle room to reach into his pockets. Once he grips onto what he's searching for, he locks his visor on the thin man in front of him analyzing his form and making him a target. It took longer than he would have liked, but the constant shaking of the madman who had him hostage wasn't exactly the most conducive thing for focusing.  He waits until the man shakes him back toward the middle and then with a swift flick of his wrist a compact ball flies out toward the thin man. Just before it hits the water, it lets out a pop and a hiss as gas smoke fills up the room. 

 The butcher doesn't stop his shaking, unfazed and singularly focused on the task at hand. The Thin Man, however, lets out an annoyed screech. Jason can see the form of the man through his visor and just as he hoped, the Thin Man brings his arm back getting ready to attack. Jason slides down as much as he can and then tucks his head into his chest, guarding himself. He hears the fingers cut through the air, and before he knows it the shaking stops. A groan is leeched forth from the man holding him and his arms fall slack just as Jason is freed, he feels a thick liquid fall on his back. Looking up, he sees trails of viscous black blood flow from the neck of the Butcher. 

 As Jason had hopped the Thin Man and pierced right through the Butcher killing him almost instantly. The large heavy frame fell backward, landing with a splash into the water filling the hallway.

 'One down, one to go.'

 He turns his attention back to the slow-moving creature that was coming up behind him, its claws having finally retracted into the shape of a hand again. A gasping growl comes forth from the creature, as it takes a step back.

 "Don't like working alone, I take it," Jason voices smugly.

 The creature doesn't respond, but it's fine with Jason. He charges the Thin Man placing a few well-placed punches and kicks before the creature finds itself on the ground. However, as he stomps the creature, he realizes it's just absorbing his blows and not even trying to fight back. If he could see its eyes, perhaps he would get at least an inkling about what it was thinking, but in the water its mess of thick black hair seems to obscure its face even more.

  He pulls back and stands over the creature for a moment. A bullet to the head would cause too much noise, and there's no guarantee that it would work anyway. He watches with a frown as the Thin Man twitches in the water and pulls himself away. Jason lands a heavy boot on its chest holding it in place. It writhes and wiggles pathetically underneath him. Unable to put distance between the two of them to launch his attack, the Thin Man was helpless. 

 Finally, it stops wiggling. Its arms fall to the sides and it lays there listlessly as if it has given up. 

 Jason doesn't remove his boot at first, but the surrounding water turns a cream color and bubbles. He jumps away from the man, and he watches in slight horror and amazement, as the Thin Man disintegrates, well most of him. By the time the bubbling is over and the cream seems to have disappeared, all that's left is the thick mass of hair and presumably the head of the creature. 

 "What the fuck?" Jason whispers to himself.

 He uses his helmet to take a picture of the scene, but he doesn't understand exactly what he’s witnessed. Instead of dwelling on it, he moves on; pass the dead Butcher, who had started to bubble, and through the door at the end of the hallway.

 ***

The door leads to another dark hallway, one that seems to be suspiciously empty and long. He imagines, however, that whoever was in charge of those goons wasn't expecting anyone to make it past them. He doubted that they even thought anyone was on to them. 

 As he goes deeper down the hallway, he realizes the ground underneath his feet is changing. No more soppy wood or concrete. It is a see through steel grate that he was walking on; a catwalk.  He stops mid step and bends down to see if there is anything under the grate worth checking out.  It's pitch black, but his helmet quickly clears up the image, and he can see individuals milling around in the dark. They don't seem scared and their body language suggests that they are simply conversing with each other.

 'Talking in the dark? Some party.' He thinks to himself.  He tries his earpiece again, he's sure that the voices he heard earlier are coming from these people, but their voices are still being distorted.

Before he can even think about how to clear up the signal a light comes on, a spotlight to be precise. It illuminates a woman who is standing on a stage, and from what he can tell, she definitely looks like she should be at the party. She's a tall redhead, in a fancy dress, and even from this distance he can tell she's a commanding presence.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," she starts, and at the sound Jason almost thinks his ear piece is back working, but it's just the sound echoing through the walls. "I'd like to welcome you to the party."

At the word party, a curtain lifts from behind her, revealing several large television screens, all showing different angles of the ballroom and the party goers. But that was the tamest part.

Behind the woman and below the screens sat a group of five individuals; Bound, gagged, bleeding and mostly naked. Jason felt his stomach churn at the possibilities of what these people were about to endure.

"By the end of the night the five highest investors will get to have their way with one of our special guests," the woman lets out a chuckle at the word. "In any fashion you choose. There is no limit."

There is a pause of the small crowd followed by a polite applause.

“For example,” she says with a smile as she gestures with a hand to the side of the stage.

Someone pushes a bound man out on the stage. Unlike the others his eyes aren’t blindfolded, but he’s so weak that he stumbles around the stage.

Jason is slightly surprised when another Thin Man makes his way on stage. He is only up there for a minute, as his duty was to hand the woman a revolver.

Jason’s heart pounds in his ears, his body realizing what’s about to happen before he can think it.

“Goodbye Geoffrey”, the woman says in a sugary sweet tone.

The man’s eyes widen, but he seems too out of it to move.

She points the gun at the man’s head and before he can groan out in protest; she fires the bullet.

He falls to the ground dead in less than a second.

She turns and faces her audience, “Who would like to make the first offer?”

 All hands in the room raise.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

You Deserve a Love...Chapter 9

Damian Wayne x reader

Tag: @slowlydrowningme @hhhellish

Link to Inspo Post: Post

Summary: Questions, questions, only one could shock you quite like this

Word Count: 1626

You woke slowly, something that’d become more and more common in the several last several months since your relationship with Damian became more serious. Your personal favorite mornings were exactly like this: slow morning, waking naturally, snuggled up in the arms of the man you loved, in a bed that felt like it was the size of your entire bedroom back at your apartment. The gentle hand running through your hair told you that Damian was awake and also enjoying the lazy atmosphere.

“G’morning,” you muttered, palm running up the length of his back as you hugged him close.

“Good morning, habibati.”

Oh, the things that sleep-rough voice of his did to you.

“Sleep well?”

“I always do when I’m with you.”

There was a pause. “Then why don’t we make it permanent?”

You could feel your eyebrows scrunch up as you leaned back enough to look at him. “Care to run that by me again?”

He moved to press a kiss to the underside of your jaw. “We hate being apart, I love you more than anything, and you have never backed down when I’ve told you the truth about me. Even Father’s other wards cannot say the same about their paramours. Be with me forever.”

He looked a little startled when you jerked forward to press a hard kiss to his lips before answering. “Yes,” you breathed. “A bazillion times yes.”

A rare, broad grin spread across his face. “So how do you want to do this?”

“How have we done everything else? Act then tell. Though I suppose they’re gonna freak if we just do it.”

“Do you really care?”

“Not really.”

“Exactly as I thought.” A sweet kiss was graced to your forehead. “Then we will spend the day making preparations. What do you need to accomplish?”

“Assuming we’re going on a trip, I’ll need to pack and get my cat to someone who can watch him.

“We are. We can take him at the same time we take Pennyworth and Titus.”

“Pet bonding,” you laughed. “Here's hoping they get along.”

“Moving into a new apartment shouldn’t be too difficult,” Damian mused. “A moving company should be able to get everything packed and here by tonight.”

“Fair point. I love you, but I’d rather not live with your dad, and Titus won’t fit at my place. Wow, they really are gonna throw a fit when they catch wind of this . . .”

“You like seeing them squirm.”

A sadistic grin made itself present on your face. “Yep! But we should probably get up. Apparently we’ve got a lot to do today.”

Eight hours later, flights and lodging were booked, a (shockingly large) penthouse was bought, everything was at least in your new home, and the pets were getting along surprisingly well. Exhausted, you flopped onto the bed (the only piece of furniture that was actually setup) face-first. You only enjoyed the peace for a few brief moments before a heavy weight settled on your back.

“What--” a look over your shoulder answered that question before it fully left your mouth. Titus had dubbed you as his bed, and was now pressing you into the mattress. “Comfy there?” you chuckled. The presence of the man-sized dog did bring to light an issue that you hadn’t considered before. “Hey, D?”

“Yes?” he called from across the apartment. Just how muffled the sound was really drove home the scale of your new home.

“We’re gonna need a bigger bed! Mine isn’t big enough for the big baby!”

“We can look into that when we get back.” Now his voice was much closer. And there he was, smiling from the doorway at the sight of the two of you lounging. “Jason agreed to take care of them while we’re gone. He will be setting up and staying in the guest room.”

“He ask where we’re going?”

“I told him the truth; he will run interference for us. Keep Grayson and Olivia from getting too nosey. Drake and Gordon will likely respect our wishes for privacy on our trip.”

“We’ll be lucky if they don’t realize we moved.”

“I would expect nothing less--”

“From the family of Batman, I know,” you rolled your eyes. There was a certain tightness in the set of your fiance’s shoulders that made you frown. “What’s wrong?”

“My father knows. He called after I talked to Todd.”

Referring to Jason by his last name, not a great sign considering how much closer they’d gotten in the last few months. “What did he say?”

“He has . . . differing opinions about romantic attachments than the rest of us. He views them as an--”

“Unnecessary risk. I remember.”

That opinion had proven to be quite the issue in the early days of your relationship. Bruce’s unwavering view about how dangerous it could be to have such attachments nearly drove Damian to cut his ties with you altogether. One of the only ways you’d gotten his (in the loosest definition of the term) was to have Damian start teaching you self-defense, and even then he only admitted that you helped temper Damian’s ego. Nothing more. Alfred was the one that made you welcome at the manor when you crashed there with Damian.

“He was surprisingly in favor of it,” only his green eyes showed his shock.

You blinked in surprise. “What?”

“He said his gift would be to help make any changes to this place we wanted.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like Alfred talked down his initial reaction?”

“Because I wouldn’t love you if you were an idiot.”

“Gotta be smart to keep up with a family of detectives, I guess,” you smiled. “Love you too, baby.” You blew a kiss in his direction. “So now that we’ve got your dad’s approval, is there anything else we need to worry about before we leave?”

“Jason will be by in the morning to stay, we’re all packed, people think you are busy this week, making you unavailable, we will pick out rings when we get there . . .” Gently, he pulled on Titus’s collar to guide his off of you. “I can only think of one more thing.”

“Hmm?” you hummed at the question as he pulled you into a seated position.

From his pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box. 

Your heart skipped a few beats. “Damian, you didn’t . . .” Your eyes flicked up to his face to see that he once again had that smile that only aided in the newfound arrhythmia in your chest.

“Technically, it was Pennyworth--the man, not the cat--that helped me decide. Well, him and Jason.”

“When did you have the time? I was with you all day!”

“Two weeks ago.”

You blinked blankly, once again stunned.

“Habibati, you know I’m not one to make rash decisions--Are you crying?”  He laughed a little. “You haven’t even seen it yet!”

“Shut up! It’s your fault for being so sweet!” The gesture was rough as you moved to wipe your tears.

Jason snickered when he saw the post you just made on your Instagram. It was sure to send the rest of the group into a tizzy, and it was his job to fend off their questions. He was looking forward to that part. He jumped at every opportunity to mess with his makeshift little family. They may have made up for the most part, but he had to get his kicks somehow.

It was a picture that could have been posted at literally any time because it was such a normal image. It showed a pair of hands holding each other; anyone could guess that it was you and Damian. Jason was amused to note that your hand was carefully turned to hide the ring he knew to be there. His littlest brother was driving (his Mercedes judging by the emblem on the steering wheel.) And that’s all there was. There was a vague sense of normalcy to it that made it such a precious picture.

The caption was what made it a bit strange: [@therealwayne and I are unplugging for a spell. We’ll see you all on the flipside]

Already, there was a comment from Cass, [What?! You guys just got back from the LAST trip!!]

Then Jason’s phone went off. That was fast.

Of course it was Dick in the massive group chat they had made a while ago. [Where are you guys going?!]

Steph: [Yeah, I didn’t even get to see you!]

Huffing a sigh, Jason typed, [They’re not going to answer, guys. They said they were going radio silent ‘til they get back, and their plane took off ten minutes ago]

[Wait, you KNEW they were leaving?!], Tim.

[No fair!], that would be Olivia.

[They needed someone to watch the children, and I’ve got the space] They didn’t need to know that he was staying at their place.

[And you’re their favorite] Jason could practically see Dick’s pouting face.

[Maybe that’s because I don’t constantly give them shit, Dickiebird]

[Mean.]

[They just want some space, guys] Jason was serious now. [Just let them be alone for a bit. They haven’t really had that since we met her.]

Barbara: [I hadn’t thought of it like that . . .]

[Exactly. Now, I’ve got a gigantic mutt to walk. All of you, leave them alone.]

That was a bit of a lie since Titus was perfectly content to lay on top of Jason as he lay on the couch, but Jason did want to lavish the Dane with attention. He’d spent the first thirty minutes after their departure sitting by the front door waiting for Damian to come back, and Jason’s heart just couldn’t handle seeing him stay that sad.

“They’ll be back before you know it, buddy,” he promised with a few head scritches.