#forced to train in his big manor :((

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Ok time for random questions bout ur fic

I kinda forget how old Tim’s body was when he regressed so I always just picture twenty somethin yr old Tim countin down the days until he’s old enough to go out on the streets safely without gettin himself killed. Just pacin up and down the halls while seethin at the bars of his enclosure (Lucius put him back in to try to get him to sleep)

Now that Barbara is finally managing to get footage of Tim bc Tim finally started going out as Cardinal is there any chance that they’ll manage to get footage of Cardinal fighting?

More specifically is there any chance they might see Cardinal fighting and recognize his fighting style? Not in the sense that ‘oh that’s Timothy Drake!’ but more in the sense that ‘hold on this mf was trained by Lady Shiva!’ or ‘…why does he fight like one of us?’

YAYYY More questions!!

Tim was about to turn 18 when he died and was suddenly booted back to being like 4/5 and FUMING- But there was legit a time where he was knawing at the bars knowing that he needed to wait until he was at least like 14 before actually going on feild in Gotham lest be called out for being a literal child on the spot.

They do have footage of him fighting! But only blurry shaky footage from civillians (Cardinal has tech that shorts out security cameras they get anywhere close to) but still they have analyzed what they have and YES.

There is definently some advanced technique stuff, things that feel reminiscent of the leauge and maybe even a hint of Lady Shiva. But overall Tim is a modge podge of so many different fighting styles (add on the fact hes no longer as trained as he once was and had to basically reteach himself) its hard to tell.

[bats-and-the-birds]

I am thinking about the batkids and their rooms at the manor.

When Dick was first brought to the manor, Alfred put wooden letters that spelled out his name on the outside of the door to his room. He wanted the boy to feel like he belonged, and denoting the room as his seemed like the best way. At first, they spelled out "Richard", and were painted in red, green, and yellow -- the colors that his parents had worn for their circus act, that didn't have any other meaning yet. Dick pried them off the door and threw them away. He didn't want to accept that this was permanent yet. There were new letters on the door a few days later, blue this time, and spelling out "Dick" instead. Those letters got pried off much the same and shoved in a drawer, and they didn't get put back until a year later. He was too short to put them in the same place, so they ended up crooked, and Alfred found it too endearing to fix.

When he left the manor years later, he considered ripping the letters off the door and throwing them in the foyer on his way out. But he left them, and there they remained, crooked as ever.

Jason got his own letters when it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. He helped Alfred put them up on his bedroom door, standing on a step stool to make sure they got in the right place. His were evenly spaced and neatly aligned, and he refused to tell anyone that he cried over them that night. He'd spent months wondering if he'd ever live up to his predecessor, not just as Robin, but in the family as well. And now he had his own letters, just like Dick's, and they weren't going anywhere.

And they didn't. Even after he died. Bruce and Alfred both considered taking the name down to make walking past that empty room less painful, but in the end, they didn't dare touch the letters, just like they didn't touch anything else in the room. Years later, Jason would sneak into the manor through his old bedroom window and find his school uniforms still hanging in the closet, his textbooks on his desk, an open novel on his nightstand, and, of course, the letters still on the door, more of an epitaph than the one on his actual tombstone.

Tim fought for his name on a bedroom door. It took a while, but he trained, and he learned, and he forced himself into the role that he knew he could fill. Part of him thought that no matter how good and useful he made himself as Robin, he'd never really fill the role that the two before him did. He thought there might not be room for him after Jason's death, but he did it. He was older than the other two when Alfred finally put the letters up on his door, but he did it.

Later, when he left in search of Bruce, he didn't think for a second of taking his name down off his door. He'd earned it.

Damian's name got put up practically as soon as he got to the manor. He didn't think much of having his name on a door. If anything, it irked him a bit, being lumped in with the others, but it would have annoyed him more if he didn't get his own name. For a while, his name on the door, marking it as his from the hallway, was the only reason you could tell it wasn't the guest room that it had previously been. He had no photographs, had arrived with no personal affects.

That changed, eventually. As he gained friends, he also gained photos of them. He put up sketches and watercolor paintings of his animals. A dog bed got put on the floor for Titus. But the letters had been there from the beginning, and he grew to appreciate them eventually. His room, with the name on the door, was safe, and he liked it there.

Cass's letters showed up without much fanfare. They were simply there when she exited her room one day. "Cassandra" in black wooden letters that matched all of her new siblings'. She ran her fingers over them with reverence. She'd never been allowed to leave a mark before. Her life was predicated on being a shadow, but there was her name, in big letters, somewhere where other people could see it.

Steph had a room. She didn't want to admit it, but when she crashed at the manor, it was always in the same room. Her name was put up, and she took it down, and it was put up again, and she took it down again until it became something of a game between her and Alfred. If Steph was staying at the manor and Alfred didn't find a wooden S in a random cupboard, then have to search the house for the rest of her name, then he knew she was in a bad mood, and he usually made her favorite cookies and left them outside of the door with her name still firmly in place.

Duke's letters were waiting for him when he moved in. His name in bright yellow letters that matched his suit already in place. Of course it was, it's tradition at this point, and he's part of the family now. He had bounced around for a while now, and the letters on his door made him feel...calmer. It was a sense of permanence, and one he could learn to enjoy.

Barbara didn't need a room. She had her own room, in her own house, but Alfred still offered to mark out a space for her. She declined. When she did stay over, it was either in the cave or Dick's room, she didn't need her own. Still, that didn't mean her mark wasn't left somewhere. There was a study downstairs with a desk that she sometimes did her homework on as a child if she was staying over for the night. Now, the desk held a computer that was wired into the Batcomputer's network, a photo of her and her father, and, of course, tiny wooden letters affixed to the side that spelled out 'Barbara'.

[marshmallowdarling]

John Price got the letter early dawn, up just before the sun rises. A habit he and his boys can’t seem to shake after being at war for years, even if they had time to ‘relax’ now. 

John’s arm lazily wrapped around Kyle’s waist as he peers over the younger man’s shoulder to look at the recruit assessment forms with the sound of Simon’s cooking behind them, and the smell makes his mouth water. Food, actual food without the fear of living off rations around the corner, all of them had packed a few more pounds but John told them it was good, healthy weight covering their muscles and fuelling their bodies. 

A knock on the door breaks the soft morning atmosphere and all the men tense up, Johnny even pops his head in the doorframe from around the corner where he was still brushing his teeth. 

John pats Kyle’s waist and gives the others a soft reassuring nod before heading to the door, the others can hear soft muffled voices before John comes back with a letter in his hands and the boys can see the unmistakeable golden imperial seal, one they were all too familiar with. 

All of them had spent hours talking after finding out about the wedding, but a Knight couldn’t refuse an order and an agreement had been put in place after. Keep you safe even through their own emotions.

A few days and a multiple meetings later the boys are trying to tidy up the house, keeping their weapons that were strewn in every room in only a few now to not seem intimidating. The manor had originally came with help but John had let them all go, wanting his own privacy and knowing his boys wanted that too. 

John thought he had more time, way more time since the King hadn’t said anything about the actual wedding date or day or meeting you or your family…. But then you show up at their door with an imperial knight, your bags next to you and a letter in your hands with the golden imperial golden seal and John can tell it’s a marriage certificate without even opening it. 

He snaps into work-mode, his brain going a million miles per hour but his body nods to the Knight and opens the door wider for you to step inside, picking up your heavy luggage like its nothing to bring in after you as he kicks the door closed behind him. 

✮✮✮✮

It’s weird at first for everybody, obviously, but the boys get a big surprise. They had all brainstormed various of ideas on what you would be like, maybe a pompous spoilt brat, or scared out of your mind living with four blood-stained men, or maybe you would fight back and make their life hell but… 

You don’t care…. You *don’t* seem to care about their reputation. Your polite enough, only taking as much as you need, making little conversation but keeping to yourself, seeing that they already had a system. 

They had tried to keep their secret around you, they really did. Not wanting to make you seem like an outsider and not wanting to feel your judgement but all of them get restless. 

Simon was training most of the time with his balaclava on always even thought he had been finally working on letting himself relax a bit after being retired before you came along. 

Kyle was at work pulling more over time, training the recruits harder and before to try and get his frustrations of keeping his emotions at bay out. 

Johnny was at the local blacksmith, forging the same piece of metal over and over again while zoned out, hitting the same piece of hot metal with a cross peen hammer with all of his force. Feeling so pent up he was going to burst. 

And John Price, their ‘General’ who had always seemed to be so collected in every situation for all of them, is hit the worst. Wanting to stay around to make sure you were okay and settling in and he never thought he was a needy man but *Gods* did he seem to have taken for granted the small touches and praised words they all would share, especially since he saw how much it affected *his* boys and everything in him screamed at him to go make sure they were okay. 

Until the secret gets out when you walk into the kitchen late at night, having drank all of the water on your bedside table, to see John on top of Simon. Not having seen Simon’s face with his Balaclava half rolled up to only reveal his lips since it was dark with one a small candle lit. 

John rushes and stumbles over his words to try and say something but Simon stays silent, just wrapping his arms tighter around his captain’s waist almost possessively.  “It’s fine, I don’t know why you think I would care. I already knew.” You say so casually it wipes John out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DID YOU GUYS LIKE IT?! I HAVE SO MUCH MORE TO SAY RAHHHHH AND I WILL FEED YOU MY RAMBLES IF YOU WANT!!!

Also this MIGHT turn into dark content later down the line so please be careful with my profile! Also its 1am, ignore any mistakes.

Tag list (omg look at me mom, ive made it) : @sheep-from-rad

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi!

I saw someone did an Ask about Damien and Danny knowing each other and just keeping in touch just not letting the Batfam know (was it Angel and Demon Brat or something?not sure).

What if we break some hearts,

We have big brother Danny who is dead (the big brother who told him it was okay to call others brother and that blood wasn't everything no matter what grandfather said), Tucker (or Sam or Jazz) just barely escaped Amity's destruction (maybe the GIW went nuclear on the city, maybe a ghost or demon finally got the better of Danny, maybe the portal need to be closed and Danny's life was the price, or maybe the city was already gone and Danny barely got Tucker and Dani out dealers choice) and tearful introduces Damien to his niece (Last last piece of the man he's spent countless lives thinking about, dreaming about and loving since his first life (I love Pharaoh/magically powerful Tucker)).

That got way more detail the more I was writing, haha... Oops 😳😬.

What do you think? Or just whatever pops into your mind. You do you, whatever you put out will be amazing!

There is loud, awful banging coming from the front door.

Or, to be more specific, there is someone banging on the door as hard as they can. At first, Alfred is wondering if he is imagining things. It was a rather quiet night for the bats to be out and about.

There was a storm that had blown through Gotham, driving everyone to take shelter. The howling winds and ran had left even the worst of scum chilled to their bones.

The bats were on their way home. Having called it a night after the third time, the wind had nearly caused two of them to fall while grappling across the city.

When he heard the noise, Alfred had just finished prepping the cave for post-patrol and went up to get everyone some warm clothes. He immediately went for one of the hidden guns around the manor.

Master Bruce was unaware of them, but Alfred had been able to hide the weapons since the lad was five years old.

Crouching low to the ground, he slowly approached one of the windows that overlooked the front door. Whoever had come knocking had somehow gotten past the first three levels of security.

Alfred leaned up only so one of his eyes could look over the window shill, keeping his back to the wall for easy push-off and the shotgun at the ready.

None of their motion detectors, video cameras, or heat vision cameras had detected the two standing figures on his porch. He couldn't see them clearly due to the water splashing against the glass, but it seemed like a man and a child.

Narrowing his eyes, Alfred leaned back down. He quickly pressed the side of his watch in three rapid clicks. At once, the signal that the manor may be compromised went out, alerting his returning family.

Alfred did not wait for a response from them. Instead, he threw himself on the ground, using the crawling technique taught to him by his years in Her Majesty's service to get closer to the door.

He trains the barrels at the wood, ignoring the desperate banging. Usually, he would have opened the door to question who they were, but it was nearly four in the morning, and he could have sworn that the man had been wearing a purple jacket and pantsuit.

In Gotham, that could only mean one thing. If the Joker was here, he would not live to see another sunrise. Alfred was done with that fool harming his family. Master Bruce's wishes be damned.

The only reason he didn't take the shot, for surely the bullets would pass through the aged wood, was that he had seen a more petite figure, too—a child.

He isn't sure who the child is—or if it is even a child—but he can't risk ending the Joker until he is sure the small;ler one is safe. Alfred had seen war many times in his military days; he did not want to force a child to live with them, too.

A few minutes pass when the banging sound starts to slow down, and there is nothing but silence. The wind contuines to howl. The rain continues to spray across the roof, and the lightning and thunder continue to roar.

Alfred feels his fingers strain with the urge to shoot but he keeps still ignoring everything until his watch beeps softly three times. Master Bruce and the children had arrived.

They must not have come through the cave, for he does not hear or sense an approach from anywhere inside the manor. A shadow overpasses him, causing Alfred to snap his gun in that direction until he registers it in the shape of a bat and quickly reaims towards the door.

He keeps himself perfectly still on the ground, even as he starts to hear faint curses, thumps, and a chilling little girl's scream. There is a moment of stillness before two figures fly through the wood—the child and the made-in-purple.

Alfred has a moment of surprise. It seemed the child was a meta before he pulled the trigger, aiming for the man's knees. His aim has not dulled with age, and the bullet sails true. Sadly, the little girl had faster reflections, making the faint glow surrounding her travel down her arm and to the man's body.

Their bodies become intangible as the bullet passes the man easily. Alfred frowns, reloading as he rolls over and swings himself to his feet.

The front door slams open as Master Bruce rushes in, followed by Master Damian. The two crime fighters slam into the strangers, somehow able to touch them when, seconds ago, metal couldn't.

Master Bruce flings the man to the wall, slamming him against one of the tables, while Master Damian has the girl in a painful hold. She thrashes and fails, but she can't get out, and Alfred wonders if her powers are limited.

Alfred trains the gun on the scene, keeping an eye on both Master Bruce and Master Damian at all times in case he needs to cover them.

"Who are you?" Master Bruce hisses, holding the purple suit man up by his collar. At this point, Alfred can see it is not Joker, for the stranger is far too young and has the wrong ethnicity.

"How did you find us?" the man gasps instead of answering, his eyes filled with tears. "The government wasn't supposed to find us here! Wayne was supposed to be safe!"

Alfred doesn't allow his brow to raise, but it's a darn thing. It didn't sound like they were here to do any harm, but one could never be too careful.

"Why are you after Wayne?"

"Don't tell him anything!" The little girl screeches, rainwater mixing with the blood dripping down her face. Master Damian had not been gentle when he slammed her against the ground. He was likely worried about Alfred. "We aren't afraid of you, GIW scum!"

"GIW?" Master Damian repeats. "Who or what are they?"

Both strangers freeze. "You're not with them?"

Master Bruce remains silent, and for one tense moment, Alfred wonders if the other man has passed out from the way he slumps in his old ward's hold.

"You're not with them. Thank the Ancients." The man gasps. He suddenly reaches out, grabbing Master Bruce in a craze of desperation. "My daughter. She's in danger. Please get her to Damian Wayne. Danny said he could protect her. Please... please help us."

His strength fades, and the man finally does fall unconscious, his hold on Master Bruce's slipping as he faints. The little girl screams- it doesn't sound human at all, and the noise likely started Master Damian's reflection, for the boy is quickly slamming onto her back, knocking her out, too.

Alfred finally lowers his weapon as the lightning flashes again, followed by loud thunder. He waits a few minutes before creeping towards Master Bruce.

The other is checking the stranger, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line once they spot that underneath the purple outfit, there are multiple wounds. Burns, cuts, and bruises decorate the dark skin of the stranger.

It's easy to see he escaped from somewhere abusive.

A gutted gasp from Master Damian has them swinging around, Alfred with his gun raised and Master Bruce with one of his batarangs at the ready. Instead of seeing the youngest being attacked, they find Damian staring in horror at the amulet he is holding.

The chain is still around the girl's neck as she was flipped onto her back- likely the lad was also checking her for wounds. Alfred can't see much but he can tell she may be just as wounded as the man.

"What is it, Robin" Master Bruce growls.

There is silence from the Katana user until one single tear rolls down from underneath the boy's mask over his cheek. He looks up at them with the most devastated expression Alfred has ever seen as he whispers.

"She bares my older brother's mark. Father, I think she's family."

"What, brother?" Master Bruce asks. "You never mentioned a brother before."

"He died.....years ago, but if Todd returned, then my brother...I left my kind-hearted brother in my Grandfather's grasp. I left him..."

The lighting flashes behind Master Damian's form, highlighting the devastation on his expression, and Alfred is filled with confusion, horror, and worry faster than the thunder can catch up.

Master Bruce's face loses all emotion- the coping mechanism Alfred had seen him use since the day he was found in that alley by the cold bodies- and growls. "To the cave. I want answers."

[tomriddleslovergirl]

Hi! Could you maybe do a platonic yandere batfam where they basically neglected the reader for a while and something happens like them getting kidnapped or something and they all become super yandere for reader thank you!

Night of the Knight

Summary: You snuck out almost every night, it was no big deal, except when it was.

Pairings: Platonic!Bruce Wayne x Reader, Platonic!Tim Drake x reader, Platonic!Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: Neglect, assault, yandere behavior

On the nights where being alone was too much for you was when you snuck out. You had thought about leaving and never coming back before. Walking down the streets of Gotham, you wondered if they’d even notice. If you don’t come down for dinner anymore, or the school starts calling about your absences.

You tie your shoes and put on your hoodie, shoving some cash into the pockets. And of course a pocket knife, this was Gotham, after all.

You opened your window and felt the cool air on your skin. Being adopted by a vigilante paid off at times like this. You carefully made your way down the big house. You quickly made your way into Gotham, using the same route you’ve used dozens of times.

Finally feeling free, you take a big breath of air. If you were being honest, the people who lived on the streets of Gotham were more of a family to you than the one you were forced into.

You decided to buy some food off of a random food truck. You slowly ate, saving the rest of the bag of food for your friends.

Turning a corner, you suddenly felt yourself being pushed back into a brick wall. You dropped your bag, and quickly grabbed onto your pocket knife.

The man quickly pushed your arm back into the wall, and after a bit of struggling was able to take the knife from you. Bruce barely even trained you these days that you must’ve been getting rusty.

He grabbed onto you and threw you onto the floor. A lamp light shone onto your face.

“Fuck,” you hissed, grabbing onto your arm in pain.

“Wait a damn minute,” the man said. “You’re that Wayne kid, right?”

Shit. Even though your family didn’t remember who you were, it didn’t mean that Gotham had forgotten about you.

You tried to get up but the man stomped onto your shoulder. You screamed.

This is one of the only times you wished that one of your masked family members would be around, but like always, no one came to your rescue. At least that’s what you thought before everything went black.

______________________________________________

Jason knocked on your door, wanting to hang out with you.

Even though he didn’t spend much time at the manor anymore, he could easily tell that you were being excluded.

When you didn’t answer, he opened the door slightly to peek into your room. The light was on, but you weren’t in your room and the window was open. He easily came to the conclusion that you had snuck out.

Sure, if you were any of his other siblings he wouldn’t care, the Batkids have done their fair share of sneaking out, but you weren't like any of his other siblings. For fucks sake, you weren’t even a vigilante.

He decided (a bit begrudgingly) to contact Bruce and to tell him that you weren’t in your room.

________________________________________________

When you woke up, you felt sore and sleepy. Just moving hurt.

Alfred was by your side in an instant as soon as you made a sound indicating that you were awake.

You asked him what happened, sure that you would’ve been in some creepy ass warehouse.

“Master Bruce had found you just before things could have gotten worse,” he explained while handing you a glass of water and some pain killers. Soon you drifted off to sleep, ignorant to the fact that Bruce had bolted your window shut, and to the cameras that Tim placed in your room.

[envysparkler]

ambushes

Dick started it.

In his defense, his replacement was a twelve-year-old who looked like he was nine, and Dick overcompensated when he grabbed Jason’s arms and swung with far too much force for the surprisingly light frame.

Dick had meant to twirl him.  Get that annoyed scowl off his face, because Jason could imitate a storm cloud like no one’s business, but when he blushed his whole face turned as red as a fire truck.

It was practically Dick’s brotherly duty to tease the kid, and the cuter his little replacement was, the less Dick’s stomach felt like clawing itself apart, so.

He’d been intending to twirl the kid.

But his grip was too loose and his force too strong and Jason slipped out of his grasp with a yelp as Dick sent him flying.

Thankfully, his trajectory was met with a couch.

Jason clawed himself out of the cushions, spitting mad, his cheeks turning pink, and Dick laughed.

It was hilarious.  Jason’s dark glare promised revenge, but Dick was the older brother, and Jason was a whole foot shorter than him.

Dick ruffled the kid’s hair as he passed by, still grinning.

~#~

Jason continues it.

Jason continues it with Damian because the League’s where he learned it – Bruce never let them train in the Manor, and Jason had never been stupid enough to drop his guard on the streets.  But the League, yes, it had been a home once, but never a safe place, not when tests and traps and tricks lurked around every corner.

Damian’s eased away from that ever-present state of alertness.  Dick’s trained it out of him with praise and cuddles, most likely.  Just makes Jason’s job all the easier.

He stalks down the corridor silently – Titus gives him a look but doesn’t bark, the dog is far too trusting – and, when he gets close enough, attacks.

An arm around Damian’s chest, trapping his arms, and another clamped over his mouth before Damian can even think to struggle.

Damian stills, and then twists a wrist, and there’s a knife poking somewhere Jason does not want it to poke.

Eased out of hyperawareness, but you don’t forget your instincts, not if you’ve been raised by the League of Assassins.

“If I’d been trying to kill you,” Jason whispers, “You’d already be dead.”

The knife pokes harder as Damian spits enraged, incomprehensible sounds against his hand.

“Just proving a point, demon brat.”

He lets Damian go and moves for the knife in the same instant that Damian turns on his heel – it’s easy work to disarm the kid, twirling the knife as he grins down at a furious child.

“You’ve forgotten who you are,” Jason hums idly, tapping the flat of the blade to Damian’s head and leaving before the demon brat can come up with a suitable threat in his speechless rage.

~#~

He sees the new Batgirl – he thinks she’s Batgirl right now, anyway, Babs seems to enjoy playing musical chairs with that thing – sprawled out on the couch like it’s her own home, like she isn’t mooching off a billionaire that she regularly insults.

It’s things like this that make Stephanie Brown his favorite vigilante.  She has the same awe for Batman as she does for a roadside weed, she somehow managed to win reluctant approval from Damian, she drags the Replacement out of his hidey-holes, and she’s Cass’s favorite.

Considering that Cass is Bruce’s favorite, it’s another blow to the old man.

She registers him leaning against the doorframe, and tenses.

It isn’t a big thing, she’s still staring at the TV screen, but it’s obvious she’s tracking him as he gets closer.

So Jason makes no attempt to hide it.  Just gets close enough, and lunges.

Steph immediately scrambles out of the way, and Jason has to boost himself over the couch to catch her – he catches her shoulder and takes her down, using every drop of his weight advantage to pin her to the ground, arms above her head.

“Jason?” she asks warily, tracking his eyes as she tests his grip.

“Stephanie,” he mocks in her hesitant tone.

Steph’s eyes narrow.  “Get off me, you asshole,” she snaps, twisting her hips – forcing him to either let go or use a lot more force to keep her down.

Jason chooses to let go, straightening back up and staring down at the wary teenager.  He grins, and offers her a hand up.

Steph takes it, still suspicious – but her suspicion doesn’t save her from being dumped head-first onto the couch.

“Jason!” comes the muffled cry as he saunters out of the room, “You bastard!”

~#~

The Replacement, surprisingly, is the easiest to ambush.

Jason maybe expected slightly more self-preservation from the kid – Jason’s legitimately tried to kill him two times, after all – but Tim clearly falls into the same trap as Damian.

The Manor’s home, thus it must be safe.  No matter how many formerly-undead previously-psychotic killers have keys.

All Jason has to do is wait for the kid to step out of the study, his gaze fixed on his tablet as he mutters something under his breath, before reaching out and snatching him.

The Replacement is short and light, two things that make it easy for Jason to carry him, especially when the kid goes startlingly limp at the sight of Jason’s face.

He doesn’t even protest when Jason snags the tablet from his hands and sets it down on one of the side tables.

The pliant meekness is almost worrisome, if it wasn’t what Jason wanted in the first place.  He carries Tim all the way to his room, rolls his eyes at the absolute mess, tucks the wilting – and sleep deprived, Jason was counting – teenager into bed, and pretends he doesn’t see the wide eyes as he turns to leave.

He pauses on the threshold.  “If you leave the bed, I will hunt you down,” he promises, and makes no attempt to hide the threat in his voice.

Tim ducks underneath the covers.

~#~

Cassandra Wayne is, no doubt, the most formidable of his opponents.  He cannot sneak up on her.  He cannot even try.

Well, no, he can certainly try, which is how he ends up wearing the contents of a water bottle as Cass blinks down at him from on top of a bookshelf.

Jason sighs, eyes the bookshelf, and pretty quickly decides that it won’t be able to hold his weight.

“I’ll get you one day,” he warns before leaving.

~#~

“No, Jay, Jay,” Dick clutched Jason’s shoulders, failing horribly at hiding his grin as Jason rounded the edge of the deck, “I swear, Little Wing, don’t you dare –”

“I think you need to cool off,” Jason laughed, and tried to pry Dick off.

“Not getting rid of me that easily, Jaybird,” Dick said, holding on tighter.

Jason considered him for a moment, before his face split into a wide, devious smile.  Dick had just enough time to think uh oh before Jason sprinted the last few steps and jumped into the pool.  Dick yelped, but there was no time to disentangle himself before they hit the water.

“Told you I’d get revenge,” Jason grinned.

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Fate Inked In Starlight

Part Two

Eris x Fem!Reader x Azriel

Summary - After crashing into the Autumn Court with no idea who you are, where you are, or how you got there, Eris takes it upon himself to hide you and care for you with the help of the Night Court. That is until souls from other walks of life infiltrate Prythian searching for you.

Warnings - slight angst, some Eris fluff, Rhys changing his aggy tune, Az being intrigued.

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five

"Your note said that you found a woman here?" Rhys asked as he stepped through the threshold of Fir Manor, his violet eyes prickling with intrigue as he glanced about the heirs personal home.

It was different to how they had expected it to be.

Artwork by various talents hung on the walls which were covered in a dark red, almost brown, wallpaper. Furniture was arranged neatly, a fire crackled against the wall, and an array of books lay splayed open on differing pages, none knowing which would be picked up and resumed next.

Rhys and Azriel found themselves surrounded by warmth, it radiated through the home, harmonised by the sound of angelic humming that the flames appeared to sway to.

The three males sat at the seating area before the fire, Eris on one of the plush armchairs easily big enough for two, the arm of it was slightly dented from where he constantly propped his feet atop it, usually when he was reading or being tormented by his hounds.

"I did. I sent her to bathe, and the healer left just before you both arrived," he watched them warily as they looked around the room.

Eris could hardly blame them for their intrigue, he had never welcomed anyone into Fir Manor, it was meant to be his refuge away from life. A personal haven of sorts. But he knew there was no other place he could take you where you'd be safe.

The air was tight with tension, Eris' relationship with the two males in the room with him had improved greatly as time had progressed and they saw him as more than just Beron's heir, but, it was still difficult at times.

Azriel didn't trust him at all. He knew why they had to support Eris, Beron was a cruel thing, an accumulation of all things foul in Prythian. With what had happened to Mor, Azriel didn't care for any cry that came from Autumn, only responding when Rhys commanded it.

"I call her Flora. It feels wrong for her to not have a name," the angelic hum continued to flow from a slightly ajar door upstairs, a wordless melody that had stuck to your lips and begged to be sang, even softly.

"She truly has no idea how she got here?" Azriel didn't look to the heir as he asked, his hazel eyes trained on the staircase to his right where the sweet song drifted, making his shadows dance around his forearms in ethereal delight.

"None. Though, I was hoping we could confirm that with your ability, Rhysand." It wasn't a question, more of a certainty, it was imperative that they knew the truth about you, if there was truly nothing in your mind.

Rhys hummed, his feet mindlessly tapping along to the melody that seemed to grow closer and increase in volume, "Only if she agrees. I'm not here to force her to do anything she doesn't wish to."

"Good," Eris leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, "I wouldn't let you if you even tried."

"Why?" Azriel tore his gaze away from the stairs, needing to know why Eris wouldn't let them do what was necessary to decipher your intentions.

Eris' amber orbs glowed in the firelight, dangerous and unyielding, "You'll see."

As if on cue, you appeared at the bottom of the stairs, your hair and skin now free from dirt and dried blood, the cuts on your neck healed and vanished, and a healthy rosed pink tinge to your cheeks. Azriel saw you faintly, the ocean blue pools with currents of molten gold running through them shining through the shadows, and damp pearlescent blonde hair that easily reached the bottom of your spine.

"Hello," you spoke, your voice was so gentle, so innocent as you examined the two new males in the manor. Both winged things, dark hair, black swirling tattoos across their shoulders, chests, and arms. A blue light pulsated, it thrummed with power, much like your own did.

As if sensing your fear, Eris rose to his feet, "It's alright," he coaxed into the shadows, the fire cascading its glow over his figure. Eris looked different, you knew he was muscular but you didn't realise just how sculpted he was as he stood there ridded of his jacket and stood only in his brown briefs and open collared cream shirt. "They're friends. I asked them to come and help."

That being all the security you needed, you stepped out from the shadow, allowing the warmth of the firelight to wrap around you whilst you fiddled with your fingernails.

All of their eyes went wide as they took you in, then the sets belonging to Eris' companions flew to him, the look on his own face confirming that he didn't already know of the thing that had concerned them.

You stood before them, a sheer deep red dress pooling at your feet, they could make out the peaks of your nipples, not like they were searching for them. They were too focused on a much more pressing matter.

Azriel couldn't blame Eris for not noticing, it's not like the heir had watched you undress with his own eyes. But as you stood before them, Azriel truly didn't know what to do next, and that had never been a problem he'd faced before. Your skin was covered in marks, tiny little archaic sketches that started at your shoulders and ended at your feet, no patch of skin was left bare apart from your face and the palms of your hands.

None of them had ever seen anything like it.

They weren't a million of miniscule interlinked tattoos, they were scars, thousands of them stacked upon one another, all healed over to mere bumps of flesh.

"I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, and Azriel is my spymaster," Eris and Azriel were thankful that Rhys was the first to break the heavy silence, neither of them knew what to say, "I have a power that allows me to look into minds. I was wondering if you'd allow me into yours, that we may somehow figure out where you came from?"

You looked to Eris, the one that you trusted the most in the room, "It won't hurt, will it?"

Azriel watched your lips move as you spoke, he allowed his gaze to travel down your frame, around the curves of your hips, until he found the marred rings of flesh around your wrists. It was a stare that you caught, and he felt that familiar pang of sadness when you hid them behind your back.

"No," Eris told you, he was sure, he was certain, "Rhys has done it to me many times before. It's just to give us some clarity, that's all. Then we can figure out how to best help you," you took his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead you to the armchair where he once sat, the warmth of his body heat cushioning your nerves.

Duke nestled himself at your feet, dragging his head so that is rested on top of your bare toes. The room shifted, and you found Rhys kneeling in front of you, vibrant violet burrowing into your face, he was tight lipped and raised a slow hand to grasp the back of your neck, the sensation of his touch made you gasp.

Then the violet glazed over, you felt the claws asking for permission at the forefront of your consciousness and you let them in without a fight. It was odd, to have someone scouring through your brain, to feel them slip in and out of every crevasse and chamber.

Azriel watched you with a fierce intensity, your gaze hadn't left Rhys' face for even a moment, though your eyebrows did occasionally twitch close together in discomfort. Then blood, fresh, bright red blood began to seep from your nose, a sign that Rhys was pushing too deeply in the wrong direction.

"Rhys," Azriel called over, Eris had perched on the arm of the chair, his hands curled around your shoulders gently. His High Lord froze, as if awaiting the rest of the call, "You're hurting her."

Immediately, Rhys' talons retracted from your mind and his eyes returned to their vibrant hue, "Fascinating," he mumbled to no one in particular as his thumb reached to wipe away the single thread of blood that had escaped your nose, "There was nothing in there," he turned to Azriel and told him, more freaked out than threatened, then he turned back to you, "You have a shield in your mind, protecting a certain chamber of it. It was like an ocean reflecting the night sky, rippling with motion and littered with stars. It did not want to let me in."

Azriel could picture it. A canvas rippling with life that embodied the calmness that only the Summer waters possessed, flecked with bright stars in a kaleidoscope of hues. He imagined it was a peaceful shield to come into contact with, perhaps even the most peaceful shield Rhys had ever seen.

A defeated look took over your face, those doe eyes creasing downward as you turned into Eris.

"We'll help you, Flora." Eris told you, forcing you to look into him, to see that he wasn't lying.

"Flora?"

Eris winced, nervously scratching the back of his neck, "Yes. You don't have a name and I didn't want to call you nothing," he rambled in a way you found rather sweet, "Flora suits you, but obviously you can choose whatever name you'd like-"

Your hand moving to his thigh was enough to stop more words from tumbling from his mouth, "Flora," you repeated the name, humming in agreement, "I like it."

Rhys stood from his place in front of you, and you realised then just how big he was as the shadows of his wings cast down on you. There was a fondness laced in his expression, "We'll do all that we can to help you. In the meantime, we should discuss living arrangements?"

"Living arrangements?" The question seemed silly to Rhys, but of course, you had no idea of the danger you were in whilst in the Autumn Court. You knew nothing of its High Lord and the brimming hatred he held toward anyone and anything.

Doe eyed and beautiful or not, Beron would hurt you if he found you in his lands.

"She's staying with me, Rhys," Eris told him curtly, making a point that it was not up for discussion.

Eris was by no means holding a claim over you, he just wished for you to be as comfortable as possible, and given the melodic humming floating through his home a short while ago, he was confident in thinking that Fir Manor was the best place to house you.

You sat still as the pair stared intently at one another whilst Azriel kept his gaze on you. Tilting your head to the side, like Eris had done when he found you, you smiled, the act growing on your lips as his shadows slithered across the floor and curled around your ankles and hiked up your calves. They were in awe of you. Complete and total adoration.

Once they had returned to him, they only whispered of your beauty and kind soul, of their need to hear your song once more.

"You will keep in touch then," Rhys bit, clearly not happy at the arrangements made between himself and Eris, "And if Flora ever needs another place to go, you will write to me and either myself or Azriel will come."

You and Eris sat on opposite ends of the sofa, twin blankets draped over your legs with a bundle of Eris' hounds in the space between all laying in different directions and positions.

Eris' head kept on lifting toward you, the poor book in his hands getting little to no attention as he examined your face. Your hair had been dried by the fire, it held a shine to it that he'd never seen before, strands kept on falling over your cheeks, and you continued to push them behind your ears with a slight frown, doing your best to concentrate on your own book that Eris had given to you.

The silence was comfortable, crickets creaked from beyond the window and the fireflies drifted around the edges of the estate. A gentle breeze wafted through your hair, filling the room with your scent, and Eris didn't mind it one bit.

"You're staring," you noted aloud before meeting his eye, "Is something on my face?"

The innocence of you made him smile, a genuine one, one of pure wonderment and curiosity, "No," he mused, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

Amusement huffed through you, "Let me know what you find?"

"Always," you mirrored his smile, your eyes sparkling in the golden orange hue from the dimly lit fire as the day caught up with you, a yawn pulling at your mouth and limbs, causing you to stretch and emit some sleep deprived whines, "I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Let me take you to your room," Eris stood quickly, ignoring the grumbles of his hounds at the shifting of weight which had interrupted their naps. Eris was sincere, cradling your hand into the indent of his elbow as he led you from the room.

Fir Manor was a spectacle you had to see to truly experience it. Warmth trickled through every part of the home, rich red brown walls, oak tables and furnishings, plush beds and bay windows, a library so full that books lay stacked in piles around the room. Various artworks were carefully placed about the halls and bedrooms, some more grand than others, but each told its own story, and you felt yourself delving into each one that Eris led you past.

Light chatter had enveloped you and you had learned that Eris was the eldest son of the Autumn High Lord, that he was next to ascend to the title, and that Fir Manor was his and his alone.

"Does it ever get lonely? Having all of this incredible space but no one to share it with?"

Eris contemplated your question, and you wanted to retract it entirely when you saw that glimmer of tainted hope in him, "I hope that one day I will have someone to share this all with. All of this grandeur and power means nothing if you're alone." Eris paused before asking, "Do you want a family?"

You slowed to a stop before a pair of large oak doors, kissed with intricate carvings and swirls; you faced Eris, letting his whisky amber stare pour into you, "I think I would like one, yes. Maybe one day."

A breath lodged itself in his throat, he surveyed you, truly surveyed you, he noticed the faint freckles pecking your nose, how long your eyelashes were as they fluttered at him, he etched the peak of your cupid's bow to his memory.

"This will be yours for however long you wish to stay," he opened the door to the room and you stepped inside with mouth agape and words failing to rise from your heart.

The room was magnificent.

A large four-poster bed pleaded for your attention, adorned with a textured orange comforter and white pillows, thin white curtains danced in the gentle breeze from the open window, and candles lit the room in a dull light. Beneath your feet lay a fluffy brown rug, a small seating area rested to the left of the room, an oak coffee table with a matching dresser and dressing table. To the right of the room, peering out at you from the open door lay the most opulent bathroom you had ever seen, a tub deep enough to fit all of Eris' hounds sat before a floor to ceiling window that gave the owner a spectacular view of the gardens and forest beyond the estate. Everything gleamed in the soft light, every ripple of gold in the white marble glittering against the ceiling.

"What if I never wish to leave?" Eris stood just in the threshold of the room, not wanting to impose on your privacy despite the fact that he owned the place.

"I'd be okay with that," he watched you turn in your place, he watched you twirl with your arms outstretched, peaceful joy clear on your relaxed face, "My room is at the end of the hall, on the right, if you need anything."

"Thank you, Eris. You didn't have to do all of this," you were genuine, perhaps the most genuine creature he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. "I'm very glad that it was you who found me today."

Eris was already closing the door to the room when you had spoke, he turned his head, smirking at you over his shoulder, "So am I, Little Flower."

That night, Eris lay awake staring at his cream ceiling, a hand on his chest rubbing gentle circles into the skin over his rapidly thundering heart. Eris lay there, lay there clueless to the beings who were pounding against the windows of Prythian, around his home, desperate to break through and take back what was theirs.

Authors Note

Luckily, part two was already started in my drafts and I've been in a great mood today so decided to finish it. I'm thinking about posting once or twice a week for this series, fully just depends on what else I add to my fanfic list.

I love a fluffy Eris too much btw 🥹

Series Taglist

@acourtofbatboydreams @glitterypirateduck2

[dreamauri]

┇𝗗𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 - prologue ┇ ─ ୨୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ─ ┇you're the best, an unbeatable driver fighting for a place on the grid ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( 858 ) ╰ 🫧  :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

☆★ yayy!! thank you @lorarri for the title <3 i did a little character introduction at the end cause this series is going to have a lot of ocs (not y/n), anyways, enjoyyy ━━

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests )

2015 — Baku, Azerbaijan

The F1 grid watched intensely. You didn't need to over take, already in P1 with your trophy secured. But you did anyways, passing drivers one by one till you once more made it to the top of the grid. "Phenomenal performance by Seventeen, securing her Win once more."

Daniel Riccardo, Max Verstappen and and Carlos Sainz had stayed over to watch the F2 race, Crossing Paths once more with the all too famous masked driver. Jumping out of your car, you're greeted with your team shouting your number over and over as they hugged and kissed your famous black helmet. "Seventeen? Who names their child a number?" Carlos asked leaning on the edge watching.

"I don't think that's her real name, mate." Daniel commented taking a sip of the redbull can. "It's not, she doesn't use her real name. You can say it's like a . . . What do you call it? For superheroes?"

"Code name?" "Yeah, codename." Max nodded, his eyes trained on you as you did your post race duties and podium celebration. "She's scary." Carlos shivered standing straight ready to leave.

"She's nice." Max mumbled watching as you passed by. He gave you a small wave, you returning it hesitantly. An unconscious smile crept on his face, a little blush dusting his cheeks.

"You like her?" Daniel whispered teasingly, making the teenage boy frown in denial. "She's just a good driver. I- I don't really care." He folded his arms glaring at the older man.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2016 — Qubec, Canada

"And that is ferrari's reserve driver, and apparent F2 champion, seventeen, defending Vettel from Riccardo." Making the Canadian grand Prix so early into the season was a mistake. It was raining heavily in Montreal, and heavy slush was expected sometime during the race.

You could barely see, relying on instinct only as you took the turns and the curves. Your heartbeat was in your ears and you could feel it in your mouth as you continued to defend your temporary teammate from the red bull driver.

You were forcing the wheel in erratic directions to keep on the racing line, understanding the algorithm of the rain. "Seb i— o—t, se— —s —ut. Floo— it." You heard the choppy voice over the radio, passing by the crashed out Ferrari.

"Fucking hell." You cursed, accelerating as you maneuverer through the rain like a pro. It felt amazing to be in such a fast car, a big step up from the F2 motor. You pushed the DRS button once you got the chance, overtaking the current reigning champion.

"P—, p—. Ke—p g—ing." You continued to push every corner. "P what?" You asked not hearing the message. "P—." "Oh for fucks sake. Radio is shitty." You shouted overtaking the apparent Manor.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"It's not always so easy to be high up in the standings as a rookie. How do you feel?" "My eyes hurt." You replied blandly to the interviewer, rubbing your eyes tiredly. Your face was covered from the nose down with your hair up in your famous claw clip bun, still wearing the '1st Place' cap for some reason. You were doing your best to keep the photographers from catching major features of your face, needless to say, you were doing a good job.

With Hamilton to your left and Riccardo on your right, you sat in the press conference room bored out of your mind as the interviewers asked you dumb questions. "You guys should go back to school. Maybe you can learn how to ask good questions for best results in writing essays."

"How old are you? Aren't you still in school." Lewis asked, chuckling as he turned to face you. "Graduated early." You shrugged, going back to facing the sea of journalists. "Is there a driver you would like to battle with the most?" "Um . . . Not really. They're either retiered or dead. Maybe . . . maybe Verstappen, Max not Jos. I've raced against him in the karting championships, I'm sure he improved and could put up a better fight now." "Do you think you'll get a full seat next season?"

"That's a difficult question. Not all uh . . . teams have enough trust in female drivers. Hopefully I demonstrated how worthy of a seat I am. I am after all the first and only female to finish on a podium and win a race so . . . we'll see where it goes."

It didn't go. It never was going to.

You were stuck in the factory, working on the car for someone else. And when a seat was finally free in 2018, you watched as they gave it to someone who was not you. You were furious, no other team would take you, a girl. Not even Ferrari wanted you on the track and you were an exeptional driver.

the only thing that kept you grounded was going back home to your family. Your uncle and cousin were your pride and joy, the ones that kept you going. But the question was, what were you going to do now?

— 𝐌𝐀𝐗 (𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍) | 1 🇳🇱 :: ↳ 1997.09.30 (25) ↳ red bull's golden boy ↳ three time world champion

— ??? (???) | 17 :: ↳ 2000.07.22 (22) ↳ f4 world champion, f3 world champion, f2 world champion ↳ 2016 rookie of the year ↳ youngest f1 race winner

— 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 (𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒) | 7 🇩🇪 :: ↳ 1996.06.06 (25) ↳ mercedes second driver ↳ 2016 world champion ↳ youngest world champion

— 𝐌𝐄𝐈𝐊𝐄 (𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒) | 25 🇩🇪 :: ↳ 2000.07.22 (22) ↳ mclaren second driver ↳ 2022 rookie of the year

— 𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐀 (𝐄𝐋 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈) | 🇪🇬 :: ↳ 2014.05.06 (8) ↳ best cousin in the world

— 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐍 (𝐄𝐋 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈) 🇪🇬 :: ↳ 1985.05.05 (38) ↳ #1 uncle

— 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 (𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒) | 25 🇩🇪 :: ↳ 1971.01.17 (54) ↳ grumpy old retired driver ↳ 5 time world champion

[xxxnightcorequeenxxxv3]

More Lore Stuff magical girl AU

I had a back-and-forth with @dannyphantom-justiceleauge on Dircord. I got some more video recomanations for more stuff. And we chatted a lot about lore stuff they were curious about after my first post, so here is the summary of what we discussed + some extra bits. Their magical forms Regarding their magical forms, they do gain a bit of heightened flexibility. But they have to train in it to unlock more power-up forms. They do not change with them as they age; they are in the limbo stage at almost adulthood. (Insert joke about Tim forever being 17, blaming the magical girl curse for his stature. p.s it's not the curses doing) It's a curse and not a blessing, so why? First of all, the curse is all about self-preservation over the well-being of its Robins; it will heal them from lethal wounds as it needs them to be as strong as it is, but their mental healing is neglected. It is partly self-aware to the point that it wants to grow stronger. How does it get stronger? by having more people cursed into magical girls. But it can't curse people in quick succession. It has to recharge. It heals by forcing the Robin to transform when they are not in view of interference. the magical veil kicks in hard drive. So, the only one who can see her for the rescue portion is a fellow Robin. And the cursed has stay as magical girl form for the duration of the healing prosses. As the curse comes with an unwanted genderswap for everyone. it takes a toll on some of them harder than others. Can't exactly reassure the family you're fine when you're not you; they are lucky they can text. (Good thing Dick got a big apartment) The side effects of healing are also no joke. They are felt as phantom pains for every Robin, sharing the burden of hurt and taking energy to heal. In magical form, this manifests as a white streak on the individual who has had a prolonged stay in their magical form to heal. Babs, Jay, Tim, and Dami, I'm pretty sure, are in Got streaks club. The curse is also a danger magnet. The stronger it's Robins, the stronger it gets, you know. It also comes with the side effect of not being able to speak about the curse or warn anyone about it. The only one they can communicate about the curse freely is a fellow Robin. This is part of the magical veil I talked about. It makes people unable to connect the dots on who the Robins are as civilians. but it can also hide them from detection if they get badly hurt for eveyone but thier fellow Robins. Or for shorter times when to be in public as normal is needed. The Curse also makes them forget where they got the powers from. So, they have a hard time keeping track of the cursed music box. However, it usually stays close unless it wants more Robins. Living situation. They are more spread out, such as Cass staying with Babs. Tim gets smuggled into the manor under the pretense he can stay until his parents return from their trip. (it's been months) Dick gets his apartment still as they need some to go, not under Bruce's watch. How did it get to that point? Well, someone accidentally took the OG cured box with them to school on "accident". That's how Tim found it after it got " lost". Bruce is a bit of a better parent in this AU; got therapy for kids, as he saw them struggling and them "not" being vigilantes meant they could make use of therapy, unlike him. Though the Curse's Gaise is keeping them mum about their identity. So, they have to speak in metaphors if they want help from the therapists. So I read this book, I had a nightmare, on the news, scary game. Not to mention the body dysphoria. But that one is a bit of a sliding scale for who took it worse.

as @dannyphantom-justiceleauge put it; "I could see Tim being more fluid, and Cass being agender. Dick isn't as bothered by it as he feels he should be but that's more because he has a healthy relationship with gender than because he's comfortable with the.. changed parts. Hes him no matter the body even if its a bit weird Tim and Cass are fully in the, eh it doesnt matter camp. Babs, Jason, Damien, and Steph are having struggles tho

Duke also strikes me as less bothered by it. He has different priorities."

Jay may not have had to deal with voice cracks for his extended stay as a magical girl, but the growing he did, but not know it, it was a bit of a shock to him. bigger body and different voice when he finally got turned back into a guy really rocked his mental health. But on the positive side of things where, they could adapt the coping skills they learned in therapy. Bruce don't know what the kids are up to with the magic thing. He just thing they got close sibling bonds and likes to hang out. Alfred knows the kids are up to somthing but can't say for sure what they are up. His best guess is they are hanging out with friends doing gymnastics with friends as a sort of club thing. Bruce's thoughts on the Magical girls. Of course, he is worried for their safety, as he has been repeatedly saved from peril by them, who would jump in the way of lethal attacks to protect him. He is under the misconception that they are using tech and not magic. He made the mistake of commenting on the white streak in someone's hair. And got the explanation that it's a side effect of them kinda dying for a bit. causing him to jump to the conclusion that if their hair turns all white, they'll die. (They won't, but he doesn't know that) all in all, causing him grey hair. He likes that the use non lethal attacks, and kinda has a mini freak out when he learns they got a lethal mode. Who are they fighting? Rouges, mostly, But they are trying to Cleanse Gotham of curses cuz that's the only way to break their curse. We talked about weapons having 3 forms. The initial one you see in the first post is an alt mode and their lethal mode. Because i planned on doing power ups. The weapons also come with sound effects. Think Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha's weapon with voice effects. Also, on a side note, Dami was not happy with his base form weapon, only to be likewise annoyed when a long time after he found out the lethal version of his weapon is a sword. The first one to unlock lethal mode is Dick after what Joker did to Jay and Babs. (when the gloves come of their is penance to pay clown) Think escrima sticks with eclectic blades attached. His alt mode is just bigger flags. Babs i've also fully wotk out it starts as a hula hoop, turs cyr wheel in alt mode then a Giant Shuriken for lethal mode. Cas's Weapon Voice clips.

Dami's

Babs's

Duke's

Dick's

Jay's

Stef's

Tim's, I will have to share later Cuz I accidentally exceeded the limit of uploads in a day ops. But to make it up to you, I'll tell you Tim's full weapon sequence.

Base form twirling baton, alt mode is a more extended staff, and lethal mode is a scythe. and a bonus vids for @dannyphantom-justiceleauge suggestions that gets included in the AU.

[cloakedsparrow]

Bat Family AU wherein it’s Janet Drake who survives the Obeah Man’s attack instead of Jack.

Tim’s already Robin, she’s in the coma, and all that. However, when she wakes up, things are a little different. She still buys the mansion next door to Wayne Manor, but she’s happy to accept any help Bruce wants to offer in regards to Tim so he can just say “I’m going to Bruce’s” and she’ll just check that he either did his homework or is bringing it with him. She doesn’t expect Tim to help with her treatment or transport and certainly doesn’t expect a fourteen year old to help out at Drake Industries.

She hires a physical therapist to visit the house every day (Dana, so she’s still a part of Tim’s life, if in a slightly smaller role). She still hires Mrs. Mac as their new maid. She also hires a driver, as well as a new COO to help her bring Drake Industries back after it had gone stagnant in her absence.

The twist? The COO is Talia Head (aka Talia al Ghul).

When Janet learns that Talia has two sons -one, barely a few years older than Tim, the other, a few years younger- she suggests they move into the mansion with them while Talia looks for a place (it works out well enough that they end up staying long-term). Talia introduces Bruce and Tim to Damian early (Jason initially hides out in her side of the mansion since he’s not ready to see Bruce yet and Talia is not forcing his hand on that). Damian is still a spoiled brat at first, but since they’re introduced as allies rather than rivals, Tim and Damian end up getting along great once he’s settled down a bit (and with Talia, Janet, and Jason working together to help him).

Talia killed the Joker upon moving to Gotham (no way was that clown getting near any of her boys again) so while Jason’s mad at Bruce, he still feels he has a parent who loved him enough to cross that line. It also helped to counter Shelia’s betrayal a little and balance out his feelings about parents overall, particularly his mother figures. One mother loved him and tried her best but was given a bad hand, another gave him up to the Joker to save herself some trouble, the last severed ties with her father (whose thumb she’d been under for hundreds of years) and risked the ire of the man she loved to protect him.

The younger boys (Tim & Damian) pretty much split their time between Wayne Manor and the Drake Mansion.

Which gives Janet and Talia plenty of time to build up Drake Industries and take over the Court of Owls on the side.

Instead of making/controlling the talons as the previous Court did, they put them to rest and just send Jason or a few of Talia’s trusted assassins (including Pru, who came to Gotham with her) to fill in the role.

Jason learns more about how and why Tim became Robin this time, so while he’s still pissed at Bruce, he doesn’t take any of it out on the Boy Wonder or anyone else. He even helps with Tim’s training (and his English homework). Jason still takes over a good portion of the Gotham drug/arms circuit and gets to do his big dramatic reveal to Bruce/Batman after fucking with him a bit, only it’s as Talon. His new plan is more of a Bat-level EXTRA guilt trip that keeps going on even after he’s started accompanying his little brothers to the Manor. And he’s a little more focused on protecting his little brothers.

Until Jason decided he wanted the do said big dramatic reveal, Bruce had no idea that the Court of Owls was real or that Janet and Talia had taken it over. He knew something had shifted in Gotham, some cases were going too easily and someone was taking out certain threats before they could become an issue. He’d be working under the theory that there was a new vigilante in town.

It had honestly been driving him a little nuts that he couldn’t find them -that’s part of why Jason decided they needed to get everything out in the open, it was stressing out Tim & Dami.

Neither Janet nor Talia will bow to Bruce’s wishes regarding anything, and he won’t bow to theirs, so the three of them end up working together as equals in a way Bruce doesn’t usually do. He ends up actually liking it, as it makes life a lot less stressful when he isn’t assuming full responsibility for everything and everyone around him.

Alfred, Clark, and Diana have each thanked Janet and Talia in their own way. Dick thanked Janet but he still doesn’t like Talia.

When Cass enters the picture, she gets two honorary moms, Babs gets to just be the cool big sister without all the extra stress, Jason, Tim, and Damian are immediately her adorable little brothers who would totally kill for her, and Bruce is a notably less emotionally constipated control freak, so she has a much easier go of everything.

Cass stabbed some asshole in the throat?

Talia: “It’s isn’t as though he died, Beloved. And good job not getting blood all over your new suit, Cassandra, dear.”

Janet: “It was HIS knife, Bruce. She was defending herself. I don’t know about you, but I would certainly prefer that Cassie comes home in one piece over her being more gentle with the criminals you encourage her to confront.”

Jason: “What, you’d rather have ANOTHER dead kid on your conscience, old man? Then maybe stop sending KIDS out to do your dirty work while expecting them to hold back against MURDERERS, PSYCHOPATHS, and TERRORISTS. Good job, Cass.”

Damian: “Tcht, she didn’t even do any permanent damage, Father.”

Tim: “Cass knew what she was doing. Aside from the visceral shock, is it really that different from hitting someone in the head hard enough to knock them unconscious? He’ll probably have less long-term damage than those henchmen you took out Tuesday night.”

Babs: “Oh, did the poor child murderer get hurt? We aren’t all in this to make ourselves feel good, Bruce. Some of us want RESULTS. Good Job, Cass. I brought some of that ice cream you liked. It’s in the freezer upstairs.”

Dick: “So, no one died; a child’s life was saved, plus any future victims if he’d gotten away tonight; two unsolved murders have been solved, so their families at least get some closure; the killer is in the hospital, under the GCPD’s watch, breathing on his own and there was no permanent damage done to his esophagus or vocal chords. What’s the problem, here, B?”

Alfred: “Forgive me, but has anyone explained the rules to Miss Cassandra beyond ‘no killing’? Because if not, then I do believe she was merely following the rule while using her skill to it’s most effectiveness. Why would she have used a series of blows to line him up for a nerve strike or knockout when she could disarm him and incapacitate him with one swift move?”

Bruce: “Alright, alright. You’ve all made your point. Obviously, we need to have a sit-down to discuss methods and motives and come to an agreement. In the meantime, I’m glad you’re alright, Casandra. And good job saving that child’s life tonight. Why don’t you get changed and take your ice cream to one of the dens upstairs to relax?”

[justwannabecat]

Real obsessed with my Owlman AU rn… not enough of them…

-Dick agrees to become Talon if Owlman helps him kill Tony Zucco

-Talon does undergo a lot of fucked up experiments and conditioning and whatnot, but not as much as if it were the Court doing it because Dick still needs to resemble a normal human. However, because of the conditioning he doesn’t actually leave to Bludhaven and they don’t have any REAL fights

-Jason WAS actually abducted because he tried to steal the wheels off of Bruce’s car (not Owlman. Owlman has no car, because they are assassins and that wouldn’t really help them stay hidden)

-Jason becomes the new Talon against his will. Dick still becomes Nightwing, a backup who no longer requires supervision.

-Jason does not like being Talon. Although at first the conditioning is working, he snaps out of it long enough to escape, trying to find his real mom. She tells the Joker about him.

-Of course, since the Bats are villains, the Rogues are heroes. Joker attempts to un-brainwash him, but is forced to flee when Owlman tracks them down.

-Jason’s death is faked as a punishment (having a life other than Talon is a privilege, not a promise) and he’s put through harsh training and conditioning for the next few years, as well as having trackers planted in each limb. His new identity is Raptor.

-Tim is still a little stalker, but he doesn’t go to Owlman about knowing his identity. That would be SUICIDE. Instead Owlman sends Nightwing to investigate Drake Manor during a gala and they find the photos, plus the one of Tim at the circus with Dick, so obviously he knows

-Owlman needs a new Talon. Now, normally he wouldn’t dare risk his Talon living in a separate house, but Tim knew for ages and didn’t say a word… so as long as Tim’s aware that he’ll kill his parents if he tries to get out of it, Tim can keep his identity :)

-Jason is actually really protective to Tim because he doesn’t want another kid to go through it. Although Tim starts off receptive toward it, as Tim’s own conditioning kicks in he starts to see Jason as a weak, failure Talon, and distances himself.

-Tim’s parents are accidentally killed by a hero as collateral in a fight. This just cements his loyalty to Owlman.

-Damian ran away from the League of (Heroes? I mean they’re good guys but what’s the name) because he’s still a bloodthirsty little fucker but instead of attacking Tim repeatedly he is harshly punished. Tim was Talon before him, therefore Tim has a higher standing in the family.

-Bruce is not lost in the timestream (mainly because I don’t know how that would work out) but Damian eventually becomes Talon and Tim becomes Shrike.

-At some point in time Jason would have given in and obeyed again? But idk it’s a long process and he’s been fucked up beyond repair :( but hey! When he does prove himself he gets a new identity and can pretend that he’s part of a happy family :)

-yeah they’re all pretty delusional

-Haven’t completely fleshed out everyone else. They probably won’t be very involved.

-erm. Alfred. Is terrified. But also he kinda still loves Bruce? From having raised him? But also Stockholm Syndrome is definitely a big part of it. He isn’t allowed to leave the manor. They have their groceries delivered. If Alfred tries to leave he gets shocked :( because again it’s a villain AU but I can’t make Alfred evil that’s a crime

[magnoliasandarson]

Grandfather/son Bonding

There is a cartoonish big-red-barn on the grounds of Wayne Manor. Jason never really felt the need to ask about it, but two months into being Robin, Alfred requested he join him in the Barn. Jason would pretty much follow Alfred to the end of the Earth, so he wanders out there after school.

Alfred is waiting for him just inside with a peanut butter sandwich (with the crusts removed), "Good afternoon, young sir."

Jason says, "Hi, Alfie," with his mouth full and ignores the tsk reprimand. He swallows down the last bite, struggling just a little bit like he always does with peanut butter, "What're we doin' out here."

There's a stack of haybales at one end of the barn, but otherwise the place looks empty. Alfred reaches behind his back and removes a gun from somewhere, "Master Jason, I am aware of Master Bruce's distaste," he says the word like a curse and Jason is internally delighted, "for firearms, however, it would ease my mind if you were capable of handling one."

They spend the next hour going over gun safety, proper stances, loading and unloading, and then actually shooting. Alfred casually mentions that he was something of a special forces operative, and Jason temporarily bluescreens. By the end of the impromptu training, Alfred is smiling one of his rare smiles, and Jason is staring at him like he hung the stars. Neither of them mention how they spent the afternoon to Bruce.

[another-kshit-blog]

I want to talk about just how different the characterization of Ciel and Sebastian is in the original anime versus in manga canon, because it's very drastic. I'm not even talking about Ciel refusing chocolate or Sebastian being an emotionless robot man who never emotes, but just how their dynamic seems essentially different on a base level.

This is just based off of observations made from seeing clips of the anime and others' summation of it, I haven't actually watched it so if someone wants to clarify things for me or just have a big long conversation about kshit that is what this blog is for, I'll turn on anon asks as well but reblogs, replies, messages are all welcome.

Anime Ciel treats his servants poorly in comparison to canon Ciel. He injured Finny with a dart in the first episode for his own amusement, but canon Ciel would never hurt his servants and actually treats them quite well and is close with them, Finny in particular. Yes he bops Finny on the head in the first arc, and Sebastian does the same to Bard, but that sort of slapstick tone has been moved away from, and we haven't really seen it again. Sebastian did punch Bard in a much later chapter, but it was a flashback to when Bard was still in his initial training when Bard and Sebastian were still getting to understand one another, Bard had insulted Sebastian repeatedly and spat on him, and Sebastian himself said he wasn't partial to this method but would use it if it was the only way to get through to him. We don't see Sebastian feeling the need to strike Bard or any of the servants in current time, and they all adore him and cling on him and fear only his "scolding," so I think it's safe to say that they are not being injured even in punishment, let alone for Ciel's amusement. Ciel doesn't hit his servants, not even Sebastian. And no, I'm not counting all the times he slaps someone's hand away when he doesn't want to be touched, that's the action of a traumatized kid, not a master looking to slap around his underlings.

Ah, but what about that time Ciel slapped Sebastian with all that he had in Book of Murder? I'll get to that. I really think Ciel using Sebastian being forced to play dead in the murder arc as an opportunity to slap him is a good example of how they're characterized so differently in the first anime versus in canon.

In the first anime Ciel is always going for Sebastian's face, slapping him or throwing plates of food in his face, and he just takes it and has no reaction. Sure, nothing Ciel can do could cause real harm to Sebastian in either canon, but attacking the face is quite rude and personal and a huge disrespect. In canon, Sebastian is immediately pissed from Ciel just splashing water in his face during the first night in the manor, and when it's clear Ciel needs his help he quickly sets the status quo straight that while he is servant and Ciel master, Ciel is a child in need of care and that Sebastian isn't going to tolerate him acting like that.

It comes up again in the Green Witch Arc, Sebastian is not happy with how Ciel is acting and decides the contract is over if Ciel doesn't shape up. Sebastian has disciplined Ciel from the very beginning, and continues to do so. Look at how he gets on Ciel for his bad manners at Lau's opium den in front of everyone there. Whether or not it is "right" or "proper" for a butler to grab his master's face and scold him, especially in front of all of the other staff and in front of an important business partner, Sebastian will do so regardless, because Ciel needs structure and discipline, so Sebastian is going to provide it.

Ciel is a child, so of course he's going to test the limits of what he can get away with. He playfully kicks at Sebastian for asking why he hasn't grown. He tosses pillows at him when he's mad. He hits him with a pillow when he's having a breakdown and scared/mad at him for eating his brother's soul. He sneaks extra sweets. And he thinks its a really funny, sneaky trick to slap Sebastian when he's playing dead! Look at how he's barely holding back laughter afterwards. That's a naughty child playing a mean trick. And Sebastian immediately knows it. His comment about it to Arthur suggests that while he was surprised Ciel would think of doing that, he wasn't impressed with him for it. Indeed he looks surprised when it happens, even as he keeps his dead act up! And I wouldn't be surprised if Ciel later got in trouble for that, though Sebastian might just let it go considering there isn't really a standard for how to treat someone when you're pretending they're a dead body you're distraught over.

Ciel does not respect Sebastian on a personal level, at least not initially. (That's another conversation, but I do believe they've come to have some respect and even a level of fondness for each other as of the current arc.) He calls him a dog, a vicious beast, and says he will commit any atrocities, which he will. Ciel may hate and fear Sebastian, but Ciel respects Sebastian as an authority figure who keeps watch over him, and as said authority figure, Sebastian has laid down the rules for how things work between them, and what behavior he expects from Ciel, and he will correct him when he gets out of line. And this aspect of their relationship seems to be entirely missing from their relationship in the anime.

[green-eyedfirework]

Tim ducked further into the hoodie, tugging it forward as his eyes prickled again.  His cheeks were itchy, and he rubbed at the drying tear tracks, trying to keep his breathing steady.  He didn’t need to be caught crying.  Not here.  And certainly not now.

It was very late.  If Batman was in town, he’d be wrapping up patrol right now, and Tim would’ve headed to the Cave, debriefed, and gone home.

Instead, he was in Crime Alley, forcing himself to walk straight and praying no one caught the trace of a limp.  He didn’t need another person looking at him and thinking easy target.  Not now.  Just—not now.

He was Robin.  He—he could fight any of them off, he was trained and—and he’d been Robin earlier in the night too, but it was Tim Drake who’d been pushed over a desk, and it was Tim Drake hobbling through the darkened streets.

No.  He—he couldn’t think about that.  He was—he was here for a reason.  He had to stop—he had to ignore the throbbing pain, the brief, searing slice every time he took too big a step, the ache pressing behind his eyes, the shivering, the way everything felt far away and too close all at once.

The streets were fuzzy, but he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, obnoxiously loud, and that meant everyone else could hear it too, could take one look at him and know—

No.  He needed—deep breaths.  He couldn’t focus on himself.  He wasn’t—he wasn’t in danger.  He was Robin.  There were actual children in danger, and Tim had to focus on them.

Batman was off-planet, wouldn’t be back for a couple of days.  Tim was—Tim was—Tim should’ve been able to do it, to track down details and find the children before they were trafficked, he was Robin, he should’ve—

He’d tried.  And it had ended—Tim wasn’t going back there.  He couldn’t.  He’d started hyperventilating at the very thought, and the children were being shipped tomorrow, and Tim didn’t know where, and he needed—he needed to find someone to help him, someone who wouldn’t ask questions, and the list was distressingly empty.

But there were rumors spreading from the sex workers in Crime Alley, and tracking down Gotham’s latest drug lord was probably a very bad idea, but apparently this was the night for bad ideas.  Hood was supposed to be protective of children, and he didn’t seem like the kind of person that would need evidence.

Tim just had to find him, and give him the name.

That was it.

Give him the name, and limp-hobble-wince back home, and curl up in his bed and cry, cry until he couldn’t cry anymore, and maybe just spend the rest of his life in bed, it wasn’t like his parents cared.

He’d known that Tim’s parents weren’t home.  He’d known—he’d invited him—our little secret, he’s whispered, like Tim scared of him, like Tim wouldn’t tell anyone, like he’d buttoned his shirt with trembling fingers and walked numbly out of the house, his mind full of panicked static.

The Red Hood was a killer.  Right now, Tim didn’t care.  He just needed to find him and—

Tim’s steps stuttered to a halt.  …How was he going to find Hood?  They didn’t know where his base was, they didn’t know how to contact him—the man was half a myth, they barely had enough security camera footage to prove that he existed.

He could ask some dealers, but the streets were near-empty this late at night—maybe Tim should’ve come in the morning, or the afternoon—but he couldn’t stay in his empty house, not when that man knew where it was, and going to Wayne Manor would only led to questions, and Tim didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

They were all detectives, they’d take one look at him and know, and Tim didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to do anything.  Didn’t want to—he could still feel the hands on him, the hot breath on his neck, the paralysis, unable to move, unable to fight back—

His breathing was too loud, shallow and harsh.  He was shaking again, and a man crossing the street at the intersection darted a look in his direction.  Tim immediately jerked towards the shadows, the darkness, the closest alleyway, and pressed against brick as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He couldn’t have a panic attack in the middle of Crime Alley, someone would gut him and take his wallet without a second thought.  Or—no, not thinking about that, not thinking about that—Tim wrapped his arms around himself as he leaned against the alley wall.

He was too exposed down here.  He wasn’t going to find Hood by wandering around the streets, he needed a plan, and for that, he needed to calm down, and if he kept losing it in the middle of the street, someone was going to mark him as easy prey.

And they’d probably be right.

Tim dared to go a little further into the alley, spotting a rickety fire escape and using a dumpster to jump up to it.  The movement burned inside of him, and Tim nearly lost his balance and fell backwards when he was climbing across the railing, but he was finally on the fire escape.  He chose a landing midway up, and curling up tightly in the corner, shoving his face against his knees and trying to breathe.

In, four count.  Hold, seven count.  Out, eight count.  Again.  Again.  Again.

No one was hurting him.  He wasn’t in danger.  He was alone, and he was safe.  He just needed to focus on breathing.

Breaths tickling his ear, his own breath misting the glass top of the desk as he—

No.  No, he had to focus.  Breathe.  Children were in danger, he had to find Hood.

His thighs still ached where the edge of the desk had bit into them.  He could feel the large hand splayed on his back, each individual finger searing into him.  That low, dark, satisfied voice.  The smirk on his face as he watched Tim leave.

Tim tightened his grip on his shins, fingernails digging in until the pressure was enough to bring him back to the present.  He inhaled slowly, and his breath hitched, eyes burning as fresh tears slid down his cheeks.  He had to find Hood.  He had to find Hood and tell him about the children, because otherwise the only person that knew was him, otherwise Tim would have to do something about it, dress up as Robin and go back and—and— It felt like a spike of horror lodged into his heart.  He tried to swallow, and couldn’t. 

[princess-of-the-corner]

Was musing on that "Villain Marinette's mock Gabriel" thing and had a fun thought.

There's actually perfectly good in character reasons why a villainous Marinette would be more dangerous than Gabriel without making him look like a joke. I'll be using my Lady Glasswing as a basis for this:

Noroo:

Gabriel regards & treats Noroo like a blend of animal & tool; there's no respect or mutual communication, he does not engage with Noroo at all unless he as to.

Marinette's relationship with Noroo is more akin to "Oh my wonderful, life changing, power granting wish fairy who comforted me in my lowest moment & gave me a path to saving my parents, I love you!"

It'd take a long time for their relationship to sour & before that, & because Noroo as an empath gets too caught up in their handlers emotional state, the two talk and theorize and otherwise collaborate a lot. As a result she has a really intimate understanding of her powers and limits early on.

Though some of her experiments & ideas, and especially results do eventually get Noroo like:

Noroo did not know they could do that and would rather not have known thank you!

The other reasons would be fairly straight forward as well:

Lady Glasswing: I suppose its true what they say, necessity is the mother of invention.

Or in other words, Marinette's not living in a fortress manor, with someone else to take care of all her needs, able to just sit around at home all day and is vastly, vastly more limited by her youth.

This forced her to get creative right out the gate, especially as she knew she'd be going up against a fully trained Guardian.

In contrast, Gabriel's plan for 90% of Seasons 1 & 2 was basically "Eventually I'll hit on the right combo of smart, strong & special to win, why hurry?" He tried a few gambits like the tv stunt, spying on Lila, Audrey.

But overall, it wasn't until Heroes Day & then when Nathalie was dying that he really got experimental with it and we saw how quickly he started doing bonkers shit like fusing people together and & orchestrating Chloe's breakdown. He just didn't feel that pressed to do so before hand.

Nothing left to lose:

The above also ties into a big difference in their approaches. Gabriel, regardless of the nature of his care for his son, Nathalie, nominal friends or fashion empire. Is invested in them,. It could be possessive & toxic, or more nuanced, but he has things to lose.

Marientte?

Her parents are dead or comatose, her grandfather wants nothing to do with her & sucks, her grandmother dips out 90% of the time cos she can't handle grief. She can't even speak the same language as the other side of her family who are not in the same country & she feels isolated & alienated from her peers & humanity.

She's very much pinned everything on "Fix my parents through any means necessary & all will be right again" and if she dies trying? Well she doesn't really care about that does she?

So, even ignoring that this pushes her further faster, it also means she's more willing to get stuck into it. Often joining Akuma in battle or using Familiars, pulling go big or go home schemes are her standard. She really only retreated once there were too many heroes around for her presence to be anything but a detriment.

Meanwhile Gabriel even though he had tons of advantages over Ladybug & Chat Noir, especially early on avoids risking himself as much as possible, Only leaving his base when he thinks he's already won or has no choice and as a result simply has less experience or otherwise, zealous drive by comparison.

So yea, end results?

Communicating with one's Kwami is good for growth.

Limits can foster creativity while no limits can inadvertently stifle it.

A disregard for one's self and others, while especially noble, is a good teacher if you survive doing it long enough.

Notes:

Though I do still like Marinette making a jab at Gabriel-Moth.

Marinette: Limits foster creativity, I mean look at Gabriel's original work compared to the repetitive, sterile dreck he puts out now that he has nothing but time and money.

Gabriel (Seething) What a... Fascinating perspective.

GET HIS ASS

[envysparkler]

So far, Jason’s return to Gotham was going horribly.

Sure, it had started on a high—the drug trade had been easier to take over than he’d expected, even if he had to hold back the nausea every time he saw a collection of syringes or packets of pills.  Black Mask had done exactly what Jason predicted he would do, and the Joker had escaped from Arkham exactly as planned.

And then Batman had looked him in the eyes—as Jason begged, as he pleaded his father to kill the greatest monster of Jason’s nightmares—and walked away.

Even the explosion he’d wired hadn’t managed to do its job—not on him, not on the clown, not on the Bat.

Jason had managed to recoup some of his losses by going after the Replacement—the kid that Bruce actually cared about, the black-haired blue-eyed heir he wanted—and proving that he was still the superior fighter, but it was a hollow victory.  There was no real satisfaction in trashing the Tower—it had never been his the way it had been Dick’s—and his enjoyment had soured by the time he met Drake’s wide, scared, hurt eyes and choked him out.

He’d managed to demonstrate that their security was laughable and their baby heroes pathetic, but he’d left a fifteen-year-old unconscious and beaten on the floor in the process.  It had left a bad taste in his mouth, one even the soothing, green-laced rage couldn’t wipe, and he could still hear the kid’s lost, confused, desperate voice.

“Jason—stop—why are you doing this?  Bruce loves you!  Just come home!”

In the moment, it had only stoked his fury.  Now it matched the roiling disgust in his stomach.  The disgust at Batman.  At the oh-so-sanctimonious heroes.  At this filthy, stinking garbage pile of a city.

At himself.

He—he needed a break.  From the violence.  From the killing.  From the rage.  He needed to get out of this fucking city before he lost his mind, and there was only a couple of things he wanted to take with him.

Unfortunately, some of them were in the Manor.

A photo of him and his mother.  The old, faded red hoodie Jason had refused to let Alfred throw out.  His books.

Before, Jason might’ve asked Bruce’s permission—before he broke into the Tower and beat up the kid—but now Jason was forced to wait until he got news that Bruce Wayne was in London for a business trip—coinciding neatly with the intel that the Justice League had a big, week-long space mission—before he dared to sneak into his old home.

He didn’t try his security codes.  They would’ve definitely fixed that after he pointed out that glaring mistake in Titans Tower.  But Jason had spent more than three years at the Manor, and he’d long since mastered getting into or out of the house without setting off any alarms.

The first bedroom after the stairs was the one with the window that didn’t latch all the way, and the security system couldn’t register whether it was open or closed.  It was a little difficult to reach, involving free-climbing up two floors, but Jason had been Robin and now had League training under his belt and it was easy to haul himself up on the ledge and jimmy the window open.

The bedroom remained barren, bed stripped, desk and closets empty, the room cold with the chill of desertion, and Jason shivered as he toed his shoes off on habit and headed for the door.  Alfred usually went with Bruce on his ‘business trips’, so the Manor should be empty, leaving enough time for Jason to get whatever he wanted.

He had the petty thought that he could leave behind some random destruction—if he was leaving Gotham anyway, he might as well leave a message that even their precious Manor wasn’t as safe as they purported.

But Alfred was the one he’d really hurt, and Jason didn’t want to do that.

Jason tiptoed across the hall on automatic, his steps silent and muffled as he crossed to his old bedroom door.  He paused for a moment to scan it, making sure no one had added any traps, and hoped that his stuff was still inside this room.  He didn’t want to have to hunt through the massive house, and if they gave his room to the Replacement, he was going to fucking set something on fire.

Slow, shuffling steps sounded from the stairs, accompanied by the tinkle of glass and china, and Jason paused.  That didn’t sound like Alfred.  The Manor was supposed to be empty.  Who—

Messy black hair came into view, blue eyes firmly fixed on the wobbling tray held in one shaky hand, the other attempting to hold up a crutch as the Replacement limped up the stairs.

Fucking fantastic.  Jason wondered if he had enough time to slip inside the room before the kid looked up—his attention was pretty firmly fixed on the tray with a bowl of stew and a slice of cake—but he was frozen by the dark, fading bruises across the kid’s face.

Around his throat, finger marks obvious.  The awkward way he was holding the crutch—Jason remembered dislocating that shoulder.  The cast wrapped around the left ankle—Jason could still hear the sickening snap of bone, the scream, the sound of his chuckles over suppressed sobs—

The kid looked up, three steps past the edge of the stairs.  And Jason watched the blood drain from his face.

The tray hit the floor with a resounding clatter, china splintering and skidding in all directions.

The Replacement stumbled back—and abruptly remembered that there was nothing behind him but empty space, jerking sideways before Jason could even start the instinctive ‘look out’.  He flinched, and Jason realized that he’d just stumbled onto the china shards.

Another panicked step—but the shards were clearly digging into the kid’s bare feet and when his good leg spasmed, his bad leg buckled completely, sending the kid crumpling to the ground.

Jason stepped forward automatically, one hand raising—and froze when the kid jerked back, pressing against the railing and all but scrambling into the corner.

Blue eyes were wide and shining, face drawn pale, breaths too fast and too shallow as his chest fluttered, knees drawn up and hands slightly extended, as though to ward him off.  Jason swallowed, and stepped back.

Okay.  He got the message loud and clear.  He was clearly the monster here.  Jason kept his mouth shut, and stalked back to his old bedroom.

~#~

His bedroom was just the way he left it, which was both exactly what Jason wanted, and also extremely creepy.  No one had even tidied up the homework sheets on his table.  It would make sense if the room had been locked and dusty, but it looked as though Jason had just stepped out yesterday.

It was enough to make anyone a little bit dizzy.

Jason retrieved the items he was looking for—the picture with his mom, his old hoodie, a couple of worn copies of books that had ‘property of Jason Todd’ marked in loopy handwriting.  He wanted to take more stuff, but that meant sitting down and figuring out which stuff was his, and which stuff Bruce had bought him, and the Replacement would’ve already set off the alarm so Jason didn’t have much time.

He hadn’t considered the kid in any of his plans—he’d figured that the kid had gone with Alfred and Bruce, or with Nightwing, or somewhere—and barely managed to tamp down on the seething annoyance.  The Replacement was always getting in the way.

Well, at least Jason was going far, far from here.  He’d never have to set eyes on that scrawny little shit again.

Jason collected his stuff and headed for the door—he’d planned to stay another night in Gotham, but he wasn’t up to dealing with the return of a furious Batman and Nightwing.  He’d have to pack the rest of his stuff quickly, and get out, and—

The lunch tray was still on the floor, stew in a growing puddle, cake a soggy lump, shards of the broken plate and bowl scattered all over the hallway.  Jason hadn’t exactly expected the kid to have cleaned the mess, but he had expected the kid to be gone.  Hiding.  Or confronting him with that stick, if the kid was particularly determined and had no common sense.

He hadn’t expected the shivering, curled-up form in the corner, knees up, head tucked down, arms wrapped firmly around shins.  Or the quiet, shuddering breaths, or the choked gasps.

Jason stared at the Repla—at Robin, pressed firmly into the corner like he was trying to make himself a smaller target, and felt the pit of his stomach drop.

He hadn’t moved.  Jason had spent—had spent at least five minutes in the room, and the kid hadn’t moved.

Jason took a step towards the room he’d entered through.  He needed to leave.  Clearly the kid thought—and Jason couldn’t exactly fault him—but Jason needed to go.  Once he left, the kid would come out of it.  Eventually.  Jason couldn’t exactly call anyone, the only numbers he remembered were the ones to the Manor, and they would’ve locked him out of everything in the Cave.

Red.  There was red pooling under the kid’s feet.  The pieces of broken china littered the floor like a minefield, and that was way too much bleeding to be a minor wound.  That was the kind of bleeding that needed immediate attention and probably stitches.

Jason swallowed.