#he’s on Tim and Jay’s side but he both does and doesn’t trust them and it’s just very complicated

[purplecatghostposts]

Thinking about how Hoody!Brian had SO many opportunities to kill Alex but hesitated and couldn’t time and time again. He had the guy captured twice and while you could argue that the Operator interrupted him once, he also HAD him at Benedict Hall. He could’ve ended it there, but he couldn’t.

Hoody!Brian could hate him all he wanted, beat him to hell and back, and mock and threaten him, but he never was quite able to pull the trigger. Even at his lowest, even full of hate and contempt for Alex (and some for everyone else alive too), he couldn’t seem to cross that particular line. Which is incredibly interesting to me.

[luxaofhesperides]

greener on the other side.

Danny makes a habit out of hopping into portals and exploring he places he ends up. It just so happens that this time, he ends up in Gotham right as the Signal begins his patrol. Duke meets the strangest, funniest, cutest guy on the roof of the Gotham City Public Library. He knows Batman would not approve of literally anything he’s doing, but sue him, he wants a meta friend and this guy seems to up for it. – OR: how Duke and Danny got together despite having secret identities and living different dimensions.

chapter two: how it grows - 10.7k

read chapter one here or the entire fic on ao3.

here's the duke pov! one chapter left from danny's pov, then this fic is complete and i can get started on the rest of the series focusing on their relationship! . . .

Duke doesn’t like to make a big deal of things. He’ll try to handle things on his own and roll with the punches. As long as he keeps his cool, things will work out. 

Unfortunately, feelings are not one of the things that just ‘work out on their own’ and he has to admit that he might just need some outside help for this. The problem, then, becomes a question of who he can go to.

He’s come a long way since he was part of the We Are Robin gang and knows that he can rely on the rest of the Bats for help. He’s one of them, something that still feels surreal when he thinks about it for too long, but Duke has his place with them both in and out of the mask. He gets along well enough with Damian, trains often with Jason, bothers Dick for help when he gets in over his head, and makes fun of Bruce with Tim and Cass and Steph. 

They’re good people and he trusts them. They’re messy, with lots of history and fights between them all, but what family isn’t like that? 

They’re good people and he wants to ask them for help, but Duke can’t bring himself to go to the Manor. They’re all just… Some of the advice they give him for his civilian life is suspect at best. So instead, he’s going back to Jay’s house, hoping his cousin will have some normal advice for him.

Though he spends a decent amount of time with the Waynes, Jay technically still has custody of him; Duke doesn’t want to leave his family behind at all, not if he has any other choice, but he knows that looking after a teenager while being single and not having the biggest paycheck is stressful. Plus, it allows less time for any resentment to spring up between them with the amount of secrets Duke is hiding from him. 

As unprepared for him as Jay was, he still does his best. He’s waiting in the living room when Duke arrives, dropping his keys into the dish on the side table in the entrance hallway. A bowl of popcorn and two glasses of ice tea are set on the coffee table and Duke gladly takes one and drinks half in one go before he even sits down.

“Alright, man,” Jay says, “What’s going on? You never ask me for advice.”

Duke sighs. “It’s, uh… dating problems? I guess?”

“You guess?”

“I don’t actually know if it was a date or not and I need a second opinion.”

Jay gives him a long look. “Usually, just having to ask tends to mean it was a date and you just didn’t notice in time. You getting back with that Izzy girl?”

“No! We both decided to stay friends, and it’s not like we’ve been hanging out much at all since the break up. This is someone new.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Nah, he doesn’t live in Gotham.”

The smile falls from Jay’s face and he leans closer to Duke, suddenly growing serious. “If this is an internet friend, I’m going to have to lecture you on stranger danger. Come on man, I know you’re smarter than that.”

Duke shakes his head, pushing his cousin back into the couch. “No! No, no, definitely not! Do you really think I don’t know anything about internet safety? Not the point. The point is, he’s from out of town and he’s really cute and I spent most of yesterday just hanging out with him and took him to the best food trucks I could find. Was that a date?”

“Honestly? Sounds like it. Good for you man. Just make sure to let him know if you want the next one to officially be a date.”

See? Simple, normal advice. Jay is just telling him to communicate like a normal person. It’s not that simple, of course, since Duke isn’t going as Duke but as The Signal, but it’s still good advice. Once he finds the courage to ask Danny out on a proper date, he’ll do it in a way that leaves no confusion.

It won’t be any time soon, though. Not when they’ve just met and Danny doesn’t even know his name.

“It’s that easy, huh?”

“Sure is,” Jay grins. “How do you think I got all the girls when I was in school?”

“Is that also why you can’t get any dates now?”

“Alright, you little shit,” Jay laughs, throwing an arm around Duke’s shoulders to trap him in a noogie. “See if I give you advice ever again. Is this the thanks I get for looking after you?”

Duke can break free from his grip easily, but it’s been so long since he had a nice, easy interaction with his cousin that he just sinks into it, laughing. Time apart has made things better between them; there’s less stress involved with hiding his identity, and Jay isn’t worried out of his mind about raising Duke right while also making enough for rent and groceries. 

“You staying the night?” Jay asks, finally releasing Duke.

“Nah, the Waynes want me over for game night and I really wanna see them try to kill each other. But I got a couple of hours until they’re expecting me.”

“Up for a movie?”

“Is it another zombie movie?”

“You know it.”

Duke shrugs. “Sure, put it on and I’ll try not to laugh too hard when you get scared.”

It’s nice and lets his mind finally stop spinning in circles, going over everything he can remember from his not-date with Danny. He’s missed spending time with his cousin even if living away from him is a lot less stressful. As great as the Waynes are, they can’t give him this.

What they can give him is chaos and embarrassment.

“Caught you slacking yesterday,” Jason says casually as he drops onto the couch next to him. Both of them watch as Steph and Damian team up to kill Bruce for taking all their properties in Monopoly, and Duke suddenly has a feeling that he should have stayed with Jay after all.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, “I’m never slacking as the Signal. I’ve never done a single thing wrong, ever, in my life.”

“Didn’t you lead a gang?”

“Didn’t you decapitate eight men?”

Jason pinches his side in retaliation, making Duke jump. “So, you pulling a Superman? Flirting with a civilian you saved?”

They didn’t go anywhere near Crime Alley. How did Jason just happen to stumble across them? He probably should have expected someone to have spotted him. None of the Waynes care too much for other people’s privacy. 

“No,” Duke says slowly. He is flirting with a civilian, but Danny is not someone he saved. Danny is someone who helped him out when fighting crime, and is fun to be with. “I was just showing him around Gotham?”

Jason’s eyebrows go up. “An out of towner? Didn’t think they’d have the balls the stay in Gotham longer than a few hours.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not one to be scared away so easily.”

“And does this someone have a name? If he’s spending time with you, I wanna know his name.”

Duke side eyes him. “Why do you want to know?”

“Look, it’s good to keep an eye on any civilian that gets close to us. In case they’re a threat, and in case they get caught up in the bullshit that saturates every part of our lives. The longer they’re with us, the more danger they’re in. But I can help you look out for him. So: name?”

That is… a depressingly good point. Duke can’t save everyone despite how hard he tries. It would be good to have someone else looking out of Danny while he’s in Gotham, just in case. 

“Danny. His name’s Danny.”

“No last name?”

“I don’t know it. Look man, I only met him two days ago. He’s a meta like me and he’s not from Gotham. That’s about all I know.”

“That’s it?”

“Again, we literally just met. If he decides to keep coming around, then I’ll learn more about him.”

Jason gives him an assessing look, then gives him a sharp grin. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be coming back for you. Boy was giving you doe eyes the entire time he was with you. Don’t drag him along too much, yeah? Poor thing’s got it bad for you.”

“He does not!”

“I’m not blind, Narrows. And I know you saw it too.”

That’s the problem. He did see how flustered and cute Danny was around him, always finding some way to bump into him or have their arms brush as they stood around, always sticking close as they soared through the air almost close enough to hug. It was cute, so adorable that Duke wanted to squish his cheeks and also lie face down on the ground. But it wasn’t Duke who was causing Danny to blush was the slightest of touches. It was the Signal, the daytime hero, and Duke knows they can’t build anything good together when it’s built on a foundation of secrets. 

Danny’s got his own secrets too. Being a meta is only one of them and he’s not sure he’ll ever get to know those parts of Danny when the guy can just choose to never return to Gotham again. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to try. It’s stupid and reckless when they’ve only known each other for two days but no one has ever made him feel so normal before. Even in the midst of using their powers and hopping around Gotham fighting crime, there was a sense that they understood each other, that their lives rhymed and it made everything so easy and comfortable between them.

“And?” Duke sighs. “He doesn’t even know my name. It’s not really anything right now, okay? We just get each other and it’s nice to spend time with someone like that.”

“Want me to find him for you?”

“Please don’t.”

Jason shrugs. “Alright, your loss.” He looks back to where Bruce is calmly stealing Steph’s Monopoly money as she has her arms around his throat, trying to choke him as she clings to his back. Damian is trying to steal everything back. None of them have caught on to the fact that Tim and Cass have teamed up and have taken over the bank and are steadily taking properties on the board, fully and shamelessly cheating. 

He’s so glad he chose to sit this game out. 

Jason seems content with leaving the conversation there, so Duke cuts his losses and leaves before Tim and Cass have to fend off everyone else and turn this entire game night into a blood bath. 

It’s not like anyone’s going to win against Cass anyways.

Duke fully intends to go up to his room and get a full eight hours of sleep while everyone else goes on patrol. He’ll take some time to think about how excited he is to see Danny again when he brings his friends over next week, but only for a bit. His sleep is so important.

Batman could never compare to how much he values his sleep.

He’s got good priorities, okay? He’s not changing them for anything.

Instead of sleeping, though, he ends up laying on his bed for hours, all his thoughts swirling around in a restless tangle. This is why he can’t ask the Waynes for advice on Normal People Shit. They just make him overly paranoid and sure that everything is going to go wrong. 

Danny’s a mystery. He didn’t feel like one when they met; Danny was just an average citizen standing on top of a building, and the Signal had a duty to check up on him. 

But when Danny turned to face him, his eyes were a bright blue, practically glowing, and there was a light emanating out of his chest, as if he tucked a star into his ribcage. No normal human looked like that, and Duke would know. He’s seen a lot of weird shit with his powers, especially once they started affecting his eyes even more, but even people who dabble in magic didn’t look like that.

Danny had looked ethereal. Unreal. As if he wasn’t from this world at all. Like someone who had stepped out of a story and into the real world.

And he was fun.  

That’s what’s tripping Duke up. He’s met other metas before. They tend to either be 1) homicidal, 2) depressed and traumatized, or 3) serious and heroic. Sure there were some that had a sense of humor, but it was just to keep the mood light as they went around saving people and being more Hero than Person.

That’s what Duke had become, growing into his role as the Signal until he worried that it was taking away from Duke Thomas. The other Bats seemed to have no problem with their various identities, or enjoyed being in the mask far more than they enjoyed taking it off. Duke, as he usually was, is the outlier. 

It’s why he always has to wrestle with imposter syndrome, forcing himself to stick around until he can finally feel like he belongs with the heroes of Gotham. He can act unbothered as much as he wants. It will never change the fact that, at his heart, Duke is still the terrified and angry boy sneaking out of foster homes and orphanages to search for his parents, refusing to find a place in the world that wasn’t by their side.

As the only meta on the team, his powers are both a blessing and a curse. They’re another reminder that he’s the odd one out, the one who doesn’t fit in as easily as all the others, but also a tool that lets him help in ways no one else can.

He always has something to prove when he’s out as the Signal. He always has to make himself worth keeping around as Duke.

With Danny, all of that fell away.

Using his powers was fun with him. They darted around the city, from rooftop to rooftop, stopping crimes and teasing each other as they went. There was no pressure to conform or prove himself, just the easy joy of feeling the air rush by him as he swung through the skyline, hundreds of feet in the air. 

It doesn’t hurt that Danny is cute, too.

Sighing, Duke rolls over and shoves his face into his pillow. 

He hadn’t realized how lonely he was until he met another meta who wasn’t trying to attack him. Sure, he has other hero friends, but they’re either regular humans or not human at all. One day with another meta, just shooting the shit, enjoying their time together, makes him all too aware of how much he’s wanted something like this since his powers first manifested. 

Jason said that Danny was down bad, but Duke’s not doing any better, honestly.

He can’t wait until he sees Danny again.

It takes putting on some soothing music and trying not to let all his thoughts drift back to Danny before Duke finally feels sleep take a hold of him and gladly gives into its embrace. . . .

The glow appears suddenly, a flash of light in the distance, and that’s all Duke needs before he takes down two muggers and zip ties their wrists together quickly. “Stay safe!” he calls to the victim, quickly grappling away as she glares at her attempted muggers. She’s looking rather violent, and if she wants to whack them over the head, then that’s her right. 

Duke doesn’t need to worry about it. He’s already dealt with the problem and now he can make his way to Danny, falling into the familiar rhythm of catch, fall, and release as he chases after the cold star-glow of Danny.

He makes his way to the glow until he can see Danny standing on the roof of the mall in Diamond District. Duke stops a few buildings away, taking the time to catch his breath and make sure he’s in Signal mode instead of Duke Thomas. 

Then, as prepared as he’ll ever be, he shoots his grapple out.

Danny and his friends are already facing him when he lands, eyes flickering between him and his grapple gun.

Duke tucks it away and offers them a small wave, giving Danny a soft smile. 

“This is him!” Danny announces, turning to face his friends so he can do a little flourish and show off Duke. “This is the Signal, and he’s a legit hero here.”

A goth girl looks him over with an unimpressed gaze, then clicks her tongue in a way that reminds him way too much of Damian. “Too much yellow,” she says, “You should update your armor to be less… this.”

“Sam!” Danny says, smacking her arm. “Uncalled for!”

“What? I’m right. That’s way too much yellow.”

The other boy pushes his glasses up his nose and glares at Duke. “So you’re a hero, huh?”

Duke blinks and the sudden hostility, then nods. “Yeah, sure am.”

“And you save people?”

“I do my best.”

“Even if they’re not human?”

Oh, Duke realizes, they’re just being overprotective of Danny. It kind of sucks to be on the other end of it, but he’s glad to know that Danny has people that will stand by him. Being a meta without any support is awful and often dealy; human traffickers especially love to target vulnerable metas. 

“Even then,” Duke says. “If anyone needs help and I can help them, I do. It’s how I got into the hero business.”

“Quit the interrogation,” Danny hisses, then turns to Duke with a strained smile. “I am so sorry about them. This is Sam, and this is Tucker.”

“Well, welcome to Gotham.”

Danny hooks his arms with Sam and Tucker’s, pulling them closer to himself with enough force that they stumble. “Stop being mean, guys. We’re here to have fun, remember?”

Sam sighs, then gently knocks her head against Danny’s. “Yeah, alright. We’ll behave.”

“ Thank you. Let’s hit up Wayne Tower first, then the botanical gardens and maybe lunch after that?”

“Sounds good,” Tucker says, pulling his arm free from Danny’s grasp just to hop onto his back. With Tucker secured, Danny sweeps Sam up into a princess carry, and all three look at Duke like this is something totally normal that happens all the time. And maybe it is! It’s probably normal for them and Duke is not going to judge them because he wants to make a good impression and not be a hypocrite.

He’ll just… not talk about the Bats and how bizarre they all are. Duke himself is not exempt from this.

“You gonna be able to hold them both and fly around?” he asks, just to make sure. He definitely doesn’t want anyone falling to their deaths while he’s leading them through Gotham.

Danny just offers him a grin, the tips of his sharp canines just barely visible. The glow in his chest gets a little stronger and his eyes flicker from blue to bright green. “Don’t worry. I’m strong enough to be their Uber today.”

“We’re not paying you,” Sam and Tucker say at the same time, then high five. Danny rolls his eyes, and Duke can’t help but smile seeing their little routines.

They must have been friends for a long time to be so close.

Duke makes a mental note to spend a day just hanging out with his own friends soon. It’s been a little too long, hero work and school taking up all his time, and though they understand and try to keep him in their lives through texts, it’s all too easy to slip away from each other. 

Focus, Duke, he tells himself. Today is for Danny and his friends. 

He’s the Signal. There’s no time for Duke’s problems. He’s got crime to fight and three teenage tourists from who knows where to show around Gotham. He’ll deal with his own shit later.

“I’ll lead the way to Wayne Tower then,” he says, walking backwards to the edge of the roof. Danny lifts up from the roof, hovering a foot in the air, and it’s so hard to look away from him when he’s literally glowing, eyes bright and hair turning white. “Also, just as a heads up, I may have to leave for a few minutes to deal with crime, but I will come back. Just stick to the roofs and you’ll be safe.”

Sam looks around, assessing the city. “Lots of crime here?”

“We’re called the Crime Capital of America for a reason,” Duke responds wryly and she grimaces. 

“Well. At least the aesthetic is pretty nice. I’m digging all the gargoyles.”

“Wait ‘til you see some of our churches. Stained glass, dark stone, really Gothic. I think you’ll like it.” Then, to Danny, he says, “Ready?”

Danny nods, and Duke turns and jumps off the roof. 

Behind him, he can hear a gasp, and then he shoots his grapple out and begins swinging through Diamond District, trusting that Danny is following behind him as they fly above the busy streets. And sure enough, when he flips off the edge of another building, Duke catches a glance behind him and sees the shimmer of an invisible Danny flying towards him, with two additional little shimmers that must be his friends.

He goes back to grappling through the streets, keeping an eye out for any crime. 

“Come in O,” he says quietly, activating his comm. 

“Signal, everything good?” Oracle asks, hopping onto his frequency within a second.

“Yeah, I’ve just got a few visitors I’m escorting around Gotham. Can you keep an eye out for any crimes that need my attention? Just let me know where they are and I’ll deal with it.”

“Sure thing. Who are these visitors?”

“Out of towners. One’s a meta and they wanted to do a little sightseeing, and you know how this city is dangerous for people who aren’t used to it. And with meta human trafficking…”

Oracle makes a small sound of understanding. “Yeah, best to stick close to them while they’re here. Good call, Signal. I’ll keep an eye out and let you know if anything pops up, but so far, it’s all looking quiet.”

“Good to hear.”

There’s a pause, and then Oracle’s voice turns teasing, bringing more Barbara into the forefront. “Soooo,” she starts, and he can already hear the grin in her voice. “Making friends, Signal? Looking to start up your own team? It’s tradition, you know; we’ve all done it.”

“Nah, they’re not looking to join the cape scene. They just want to see the sights, hang out a bit. Are you looking for information on them right now?” He can hear her typing loudly, fingers flying across the keyboard. She’s supposed to be working in the library, but she’s also got her own office in there now that she’s the most senior employee. It would be just like her to pass off patron duties to the other libraries and bust crime rings from her office desk. 

Zero separation between regular work and night work. The curse all bats and bat-adjacent folk struggle with. 

“Who do you think I am?” Barbara scoffs. “If you’re making friends, then it’s my duty to make sure they’re good friends. At the very least, I can’t let you run off with villains in the makings, or cultists wanting to sacrifice you or something.”

“They’re normal civilians,” Duke hisses into his comm. He casts another glance behind him to see Danny flying off to the side. From what he can make out from the movement of the shimmer, like a heat mirage given form, he’s pointing something out to his friends. “And how likely is it that they are villains? I doubt anyone looking to hurt me is going to ask me for a tour of Gotham.”

Barbara hums. “You never know. Tim befriended Anarchy. And a couple of League assassins.”

“Tim’s a special case. He can befriend literally anyone. I mean, didn’t Jason and Damain both try to kill him? Now look at them. Thick as thieves.”

“He is something special,” Barbara agrees, amusement coloring her voice. “Say, can you tell me their names?”

“Who?”

“Your tourist guests.”

“Danny, Tucker, and Sam. Why?”

There’s a pause, even the clicking of her keyboard going silent. Oracle being stopped in her tracks is never a good thing and Duke is suddenly worried that she did find something that will connect the trio to some evil world domination plan.

“I can’t find them.”

“What?” 

“I’ve run their faces through the databases, I’ve searched for people matching their descriptions, I can’t find any tech on them that I can hack into… It’s like they don’t exist. Digitally, that is.”

Duke lands just a block away from Wayne Tower, staring up at it. The glass glistens in the few rays of sunlight that force their way past the clouds hanging heavy in the sky. It’s taller than any other building in the district, overlooking Gotham all the way to the bay. He hears the slight shuffle of feet as Danny lands on the roof behind him and sets Tucker and Sam down. 

He wants to keep talking to Barbara because he can’t recall a time she wasn’t able to find something. She’s ruthless in the pursuit of information, effortlessly hacking into even the most protected files, capable of finding people and vehicles and buildings and everything else someone might need for a case. 

The fact that Danny and his friends have hidden themselves from Oracle’s all seeing eyes has him on edge. 

He really hopes it’s nothing. He wants to be friends with Danny. He wants to trust him to be a good person just trying to live a quiet life as a meta. He wants just one thing to not blow up in his face. 

“Here we are!” Duke announces, showing off Wayne Tower with a flourish. “I can’t get you much closer to the tower without people noticing you pop in out of nowhere, so you’ll have to walk the last two blocks to get to the building.”

“Impressive place,” Tucker comments as invisibility slides off of him. Sam appears a moment later, followed by Danny, the glow in his chest softening and growing a little dimmer. 

“Wayne Enterprises is always striving for perfection,” Duke agrees. “Though, between you and me, I’m 99% positive that the only reason this building is as big and impressive as it is stems from Wayne’s need to be better than Lexcorp.”

“Lexcorp?”

“Rival company in Metropolis. Lex Luthor is the CEO and we all hate him for a lot of reasons.”

“I kinda want to pit Vlad against these guys,” Sam says, shooting Danny a grin.

Danny snorts and shakes his head. “Vlad has a cheese castle. I think he’s already lost.”

Duke is really interested in hearing about the cheese castle, but a quick glance at the watch hidden in his wrist gauntlet (put there only so he can dramatically check the time and leave with some insane excuse when criminals were complaining to him about their own poor choices) tells him that it’s nearly time for the next tour to start. 

“Alright, folks,” he says, “You’ve got around eleven minutes to sign yourselves up for the next tour, so if you want to make it, you’d better get moving!”

Tucker swears, then sprints for the edge of the building. “Danny! Get me down there! I’m not waiting another hour for a tour!”

Danny rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling fondly as he flies over to Tucker and scoops him up. They both disappear over the edge of the building, leaving Duke alone with Sam.

“So,” she says, and her tone could be mistake for conversational if it wasn’t for the coldness of her eyes. “You’re getting pretty friendly with Danny, from what I’ve heard.”

Duke smiles nervously. This is the beginning of a shovel talk, isn’t it? “I guess so. I mean, I’d like to be friends with him.”

“How old are you?”

“What?”

“How. Old. Are you?” she bites out, walking closer with a glare.

“Why do you want to know? I can’t just be giving out information about my identity, you know.”

“If you’re not a teenager, then I am going to have a few knives sharpened for when you make a wrong move towards Danny.”

“Wait, wait! I’m still in high school! That’s fine, isn’t it?” He definitely shouldn’t be telling anyone this, but if one of his friends said they were hanging out with someone they don’t know outside of a mask, or a username, or whatever, he’d want to make sure that person wasn’t a creep. Her protective anger is admirable, really. And besides, he gets it. If telling her his age (or age range) will reassure her that he’s not going to… groom Danny or something, then he’ll tell her. 

He’d never fault someone for looking out for their loved ones. 

“You better be telling the truth. For your own sake.”

“Cross my heart,” Duke says. 

Danny pops up through the roof a moment later, startling both of them, easily breaking the tension. “Come on, Sam, Tucker’s signed us up and doesn’t want to wait for you to get over there.” He picks Sam up, then glances between her and Duke. “Wait. Sam. Tell me you didn’t threaten the Signal.”

“Do you want me to lie to you?”

“I can’t take you guys anywhere, I swear…” Danny mutters, then flies down to the street.

Duke blinks at the empty roof, then decides that he’s just going to move on with his day and enjoy spending time with Danny. 

He grapples closer to Wayne Tower, following Danny’s glow to make sure they get inside just fine. It’s only a block, but anything can happen in Gotham; better safe than sorry. As soon as he watches them go into the building, Duke sets a timer to display on the corner of his helmet visor and gets back to patrolling, keeping watch over Gotham while he waits for the tour to finish.

“Signal,” Oracle says, and Duke snaps to attention, landing on the next building at the end of his grapple, hopping down from the ledge with ease. 

“What’s up, O? Got something for me?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to keep an eye on your guests. One of my drones picked up a strange reading that’s similar to magical residue.”

“You think they’re magic?”

“I think there’s something going on with them that we should keep an eye on. I know you said they’re just here as tourists, but you know we can’t take chances in Gotham.”

As much as he understands Barbara’s concerns, Duke can’t bring himself to be suspicious of Danny or his friends. They do have secrets, and none of them have even hinted at how they arrived in Gotham, appearing suddenly and without warning on a rooftop. But he’s always been one to give the benefit of the doubt. To try to talk things out, figure out a solution where no one needs to get hurt. Most of the time, it doesn’t work since whoever is causing problems really only cares about venting out their pain and frustrations through property damage and loss of life. Sometimes, though, the people causing problems need a little help, need protection, need some space to calm down and get themselves under control, and having a horde of Bats chasing them only makes things worse. 

“They really are just tourists,” Duke says. “I know how you feel. I get it, there’s definitely something more to the three of them. But it’s not causing any harm right now, so I say it’s none of our business.”

He hears Barbara sigh down the line, but she’s always been good at respecting boundaries (when it doesn’t come to privacy) and will let people do as they believe they should. It’s why she helps out Jason every so often despite his violent methods and familiarity with killing. It’s why she has her own group and leads them without controlling them the way Batman tries to. 

“Alright,” she says, “You make the calls since they’re your guests. Just be ready for me to say ‘I told you so’ when something goes wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know you’re always right, O. Let me make my mistakes in peace, alright? We’ll fix it when we need to.”

“This is why you’re my new favorite,” Barbara jokes.

He makes to respond, maybe poke fun at some of the others with her, when he catches sight of two guys trying to break the lock on a bike to steal it from the sidewalk. Dropping down from the roof, he casually walks up to them, then clears his throat and shakes his head in disappointment at them when they jump and whirl around to stare at him.

“Really?” he says, judging them harshly, “Stealing someone’s bike? In broad daylight?”

They both flush with embarrassment, scowling at him.

“Well, we gotta get home somehow!” one of them says, kicking at the bike in frustration.

“Can’t you take the bus or something? Walk?”

“We don’t have any money on us for the bus and we’re heading to Robinson Park. I ain’t walking that far.”

Well. At least they’re just trying to get around and weren’t planning on selling the bike off. 

“Two options,” he says, and both guys tense up immediately, prepared for a fight. He hates that that’s the reaction people have to Gotham’s heroes. As soon as they turn to a crime, no matter how petty, they’re prepared to be beaten down into submission. It’s a precedent set by Bruce that he’s never really liked and Duke does his best to embrace how different he is from the rest of the Bats to show the people of Gotham, criminals and all, that everyone can turn to him for help.

“I can buy a week-long bus pass for you both. Or, I can give you two a ride.”

They share a glance, slowly relaxing. “Can we do both?” one asks. “Get a ride from you and the bus pass?”

Duke glances at the timer in his visor. He’s still got forty minutes before he needs to go back to Wayne Tower. 

“You know what? Yes, we can do that. Let me get you those bus passes and then we’ll get going.”

The two men share an excited grin, stepping away from the bike and its slightly mangled lock. They follow Duke to the nearest bus station where a little kiosk is tucked under the awning. Barbara, listening in as she always is, buys the bus passes for him, getting them to print within seconds when they get there. 

“Sending your new motorcycle to your location,” she says as soon as he hands both bus passes to the men. 

As far as Duke knows, he only has one motorcycle. He wishes he could ask what Barbara meant with new motorcycle without anyone listening in, but he’s gotta give the guys his attention, keep them company while they wait. 

They make small talk for a bit, the two asking him what being a hero is like while Duke chats about life in Gotham and shares some Batfam gossip (mostly patrol blunders of one of them slipping while crossing the rooftops and eating shit). 

It only takes seven minutes for the motorcycle to arrive, appearing in front of them in the street as the cloaking turns off. 

“Woah,” one of the guys breathes, staring at it in awe. “Man, you heroes get the coolest shit.”

“Perks of throwing ourselves into the line of fire. Literally.” 

He sees why Barbara sent him an entire new motorcycle (!!!) because his original plan of having three people squeeze onto the seat of one motorcycle was clearly going to end in disaster. This new one, Signal Yellow as it should be, is more armored, a little larger, and has an extended passengers seat attached to it so three people can ride it easily.

Duke swings his leg over it, settling into the seat and grips the handlebars. “Come on,” he smiles, inviting the men to join him. They do, nearly tripping over themselves as they get seated, excited grins on their faces. 

It’s nice to know that no matter how old people get, a cool motorcycle is the way to most people’s hearts. 

And what a change it is to see two men, likely college students in their final years, go from scared and unhappy people to acting like kids again, jumping at the chance to ride a motorcycle with a hero. 

Small interactions like this, where everything goes right, is exactly why Duke is determined to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, a chance to choose differently and be good.

“Hold on tight!” He revs the engine, then takes off, the men letting out whoops behind him as they rush down the street. The motorcycle picks up speed quickly and runs so smoothly it’s as if they’re flying, easily dodging all the cars around them. 

Normally, he’d go invisible and use the cloaking mode on his motorcycle to get around, but with two civilians riding with him, he’d rather be visible so cars don’t accidentally hit them.

The ride to Robinson Park takes fifteen minutes at the frankly dangerous speeds Duke was going, and he has no regrets about speeding because 1) it’s fun as hell and 2) the guys with him are clearly having a blast.

He slows down once they reach the park, then pulls over to the side of the road.

“Thank you for riding with Signal Wheels. Be sure to leave a review!”

“Five out of five!” one guys says as he gets off the motorcycle. His hair is a mess, completely windswept and tangled when Duke turns to look at him. “Holy shit, dude, I think I’d marry your motorcycle if I could.”

“Oh same,” Duke laughs, holding out a hand for a fistbump which is readily granted. 

The second guy needs a moment longer to get off, laughing breathlessly. “Ten out of ten,” he says, once he’s next to his friend.

“Trying to one up me, huh?” 

“Just being honest here.”

“Alright, well you two take care now,” Duke says, shifting his weight to one foot in preparing to kick off and head back to Wayne Tower. “And be sure not to lose those bus passes!”

“Thanks Signal!” they both call out as Duke heads back down the road, turning invisible as soon as he gets to a good speed.

He’s got just enough time to make it back to lead Danny and his friends to the botanical gardens. He cuts it close, but he makes it, pulling into an alley and hopping off the motorcycle.

“O, would you mind getting this back to wherever you piloted it from?”

“Not going to take your new friends on it?”

“Nah, I get the feeling they prefer flying.”

“You got it, Signal.”

The motorcycle pulls out of the alley silently, then heads down on road once cloaking is enabled. It’s gone just in time for his guest to walk out of Wayne Tower, trailing after Tucker who talks with his hands moving around energetically, too distracted to watch where he’s going as Sam and Danny pull him this way and that to keep him from crashing into other people. 

Danny spots him first, after he stops and his brow furrows, a look of concentration on his face. Then his head turns and his eyes snap onto where Duke leans against the wall at the mouth of the alley. He grins, the glow in his chest flaring brighter for a moment, and Duke offers a small wave, unbearably charmed by how cute Danny is, especially when he’s so clearly delighted to see him.

“How was it?” Duke asks once they’re close enough to hear him.

Tucker immediately launches into a rant about WayneTech and the R&D Lab and how he would give his liver to work there. Then he starts rambling about technology and coding and a few of the things he’s created and how he’d love to look through what WayneTech does. He doesn’t stop even as Danny flies him up to the roof, Duke following after with his grapple, Sam clinging onto his back. 

“So, so cool,” Tucker gushes, “I could probably take over the government in Amity with this kind of tech.”

Okay. Kind of a concerning statement to make, especially in the wake of Barbara’s suspicions of them.

Sam snorts. “You could take over the government in Amity now, if you wanted to.”

“Yeah, I could.”

“Not that you’d be good at it. What would you do as mayor?”

“Create a steak festival to celebrate steak and all the meals you can make with it.”

“Oh you little—” Sam lunges at them and Tucker falls back with a shriek. And then they’re tussling on the rooftop, arguing about meat and veganism and the farming industry, which, what a subject change.

Duke looks over at Danny, who watches them wrestle with fond exasperation. “Should we… stop them?”

“Let them get this out of their systems,” Danny replies. “They’ve been having this fight for years. I’ll stop them in a few minutes, and then we can go to the botanical gardens.”

So they stand together and watch Sam and Tucker roll around the roof, trying to choke each other out. And all Duke can think is, Man, I can’t ever let them meet the Bats. They’ll get along like a house on fire.

Or, it’s all he thinks until Danny shifts closer to him, just a few tentative steps. He’s suddenly starkly aware of how small the space between them is, how Danny’s close enough to touch, how much he’s been looking forward to this moment since Danny left a week ago.

Boy was giving you doe eyes the entire time he was with you, Jason had said. Duke saw it, when he was with Danny, reveled in it, basked in the attention. It wasn’t that he didn’t reciprocate, but he knows it can be hard to convey anything through his helmet, but there’s only so much action can do.

But it’s what he can do, so Duke shoves away his nerves and wraps his arm around Danny’s waist, pulling him closer.

Danny lets out a cute little squeak, cheeks filling with color immediately, and Duke is so, so endeared he wants to cry. 

“So, what’s the story behind this fight of theirs?” he asks, leaning closer to ask his question quietly in Danny’s ear.

“Oh! Um,” Danny blinks at him, visibly flustered, and Duke wants to squeeze his cheeks together, he’s so cute. 

Oh, he really is down bad. Damn. He hopes Barbara isn’t watching through his helmet camera, but he knows better than to expect her to not be collecting blackmail on him for this.

Which is whatever! Jokes on Barbara, he’s not at all ashamed of what he feels for Danny!

He could do without the ribbing from the rest of the Bats. They have no leg to stand on when it comes to relationships and being honest about their feelings. He’ll turn every conversation about Danny into improvised therapy if he has to.

“Well?” he prompts.

Danny glances at his friends, then leans into Duke and turns to him with a small smile. 

“So,” he begins, then launches into a wild story from his freshman year about Sam and Tucker splitting the school into two groups to have a mini civil war over meat vs vegetarian food. Which lead to eating grass (?!) for lunch, a ghost lunch lady attacking the school, and the teachers having their own hidden meat lunch kept secret from the students, which lead to more chaos once it was discovered.

“That was a wild school week,” Danny concludes, just as Sam and Tucker’s fight winds down.

“Dude,” Duke says, staring at Danny, unsure if he wants to laugh or ask follow up questions. “What kind of life have you been living? That’s so much. The only thing we’ve got here is shootings and so much crime. Also a zombie in the sewers.”

“See, you drop info like that on me and suddenly I’m convinced that my life is actually pretty tame compared to whatever’s going on here.”

“No, no, listen. In Gotham, you expect this kind of nonsense. But your story started so deceptively normal! ‘Just a fight between friends’ and then a ghost attack? Betrayal from the teachers? Grass? Danny, everything you said left me reeling.”

“It’s not that bad!” Danny laughs. “The ghosts barely cause any problem anymore. They’re just kinda like anyone else, now.”

“What’s this about?” Sam asks, brushing her skirt off as she stands. Tucker pushes himself up to his feet and takes a moment to wipe the lenses of his glasses.

“The first time we met Lunch Lady.”

Sam and Tucker make a sound of understanding, nodding. “That sure was something,” Sam says.

“To think we were so young and innocent back then,” Tucker says with a fake sniffle. “So innocent!”

“You’re still as insufferable as ever,” Sam replies, taking his smack to her arm with grace.

“You two ready to head to the botanical garden now?” Duke asks, getting them back on track. Danny moves out of Duke’s grasp, unfortunately, to return to his role as their personal Uber, this time getting Tucker in a princess carry while Sam clings to his back like a koala.”Well. Guess Danny’s decided you’re ready.”

His friends snicker while Danny rolls his eyes and mutters about their unending arguments, then nods at Duke to lead the way.

Giving him a little salute, Duke readies his grapple, then takes off, leaping off the building to return to the skies. Danny follows him effortlessly, a soft glow that occasionally passes by in front of him playfully, sticking close as they head north. 

The botanical gardens are a large spot of green in the otherwise urban landscape. It’s a few blocks away from Robinson Park, close enough that everything nearby is deemed Ivy’s territory, but far enough away that most people can pretend it’s like any other building and visit it safely. It’s been a long time since the botanical garden was attacked, or use for Villainous Purposes™, so Duke is comfortable letting Sam, Tucker, and Danny explore it on their own. 

Plenty of other people are also in the gardens, from what he can see a roof away. And no one’s run away screaming, which is definitely a good sign.

“Oh, wow,” Sam says once she hops down from Danny’s back. She stares at the gardens with something unreadable in her eyes, as if she’s seeing more than what’s there. “There’s so much…”

“Poison Ivy—one of our rogues who can control plants and is doing a lot better these days, don’t worry—she takes care of most of the gardens. The greenhouse in the middle is hers for studies and experiments with plants, but she lets the public walk the garden. She’s even added little informational cards for kids to read so they can learn more,” Duke says, walking up to where Sam is leaning concerningly over the edge to get a better look at the gardens. 

“That explains it,” she says, explaining nothing. “Do we have to pay to go in?”

“Just five dollars per person. It’s her income, and we’re all encouraged to leave a donation so she doesn’t turn to crimes to get enough money to support herself again.”

“Well!” Danny claps his hands together. “Let’s go, then. Jazz made sure we had cash on had, so it should be fine.”

“I can cover our tickets,” Sam offers, “Since this is for me.”

“Then I’ll cover lunch,” Danny says.

Tucker shoves his hand onto Danny’s face to push him away as he says, “No, I’ll pay for lunch. Danny, you’re not spending anything since you’re the one that scoped out this place last week for us. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, got it. Thanks, guys,” Danny smiles, then turns to Duke. “Would you mind waiting here for a bit? I’m gonna check out the gardens for a bit, but then I’ll be back.”

“Sure,” Duke says easily. It’s a quiet day anyways, and he’ll take any excuse to spend more time with Danny.

“Great. I’ll be right back!” And then he wraps an arm around both Sam and Tucker’s waits, picks them up like they weigh nothing, and casually hops off the roof. 

Duke sits down on the edge of the building, watching as they cross the street and enter the botanical garden, Sam pulling out her wallet to pay for their entry. He idly kicks his heels against the wall, looking around the street, enjoying the rare Gotham peace.

No one is calling for help and Barbara hasn’t alerted him to anything. This is a good thing, but it doesn’t change the fact that Duke is bored.

He pulls out his phone, which he knows he shouldn’t have while he’s in the suit but it’s his day shift, he can do what he wants, and checks his friends (no Bats allowed) group chat and sees that Izzy is active. He opts to leave the chaos of the group chat to message her directly.

flashlight: hey izzy u know how we broke up

2(00)chains: oh boy. strong opening. but yes i am aware we broke up

flashlight: would u be mad if i started dating someone new or is it too soon?

2(00)chains: OMG DUKE??? WHO IS IT YOU NEED TO TELL ME RIGHT NOW

flashlight: izzy.

2(00)chains: babe u gotta give me something to work with so i can know if i should give u my blessing or not

2(00)chains: but also if u want to date and they make u happy, then yes u can date

flashlight: okay thanks!! wasn’t sure and didn’t know if it would be rude

2(00)chains: rude to date when ur single?? it would have been a problem if we were still together but that ship has sailed bby

2(00)chains: but duke PLSSSS i need deets. give me some tea… a girl is parched…

flashlight: lmao. so dramatic. but uuuuuuh

2(00)chains: little concerned by that pause there duke

flashlight: ok hes a meta

2(00)chains: ok strong start, u dont need to hide powers from him

flashlight: he’s not from gotham and doesnt live here so idk how well long distance would do

2(00)chains: duke. is this an online friend u’ve never met before.

flashlight: no!! i met him in person in gotham!! he’s just visiting!!!!

2(00)chains: ok ok go on

flashlight: uh

flashlight: he may only know me as the signal?

2(00)chains: DUKE. 

2(00)chains: i understand the need to keep ur identity secret

2(00)chains: but PLS do not be a superhero love story cliche. im begging here. u didnt even keep it secret from me

flashlight: he may also not exist in this world (universe?)

2(00)chains: .

2(00)chains: u know i think u can make it work

2(00)chains: u have my blessing! if he says yes when u ask him out (which he better do 🔪) then i demand to meet him!!

flashlight: u got it izzy

flashlight: thanks!! u always got my back ☺️

He only has a faint prickle on the back of his neck to warn him of Danny’s approach, looking up through gut instinct only just to see Danny’s fuzzy glow fly up to him.

Danny pops into visibility a moment later, pouting. “I was hoping I could sneak up on you.”

“It’s gonna take more than that, babe,” he laughs. “I’m hard to sneak up on.” Bar that time Cass… and Bruce… and Tim… Dick, also… Jason, too…

Okay, so anyone who isn’t a Bat won’t be able to sneak up on him easily.

“Babe?” Danny repeats, his voice suddenly much higher. Duke freezes and takes a moment to curse his loose mouth; he and Izzy love pet names and still call each other terms of endearment even now when they’ve broken up. And since he was just talking to her, habit made him put his foot in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Duke says, committing to it, “Babe”

Danny makes a little whine in the back of his throat, face going red, and then his hides his face in his hands and floats up higher, curling his body up into a small ball. The movement reminds him of the videos he’s seen of astronauts in space, moving in lazy circles in zero gravity.

“Sorry,” he adds on, “I was texting a friend and we call each other things like that, so I just… slipped up. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” Danny mumbles.

“What?”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

Duke smiles. “Alright. Wanna come down and join me, then?”

Danny continues hiding for a few moments longer, then reaches a hand down towards Duke. He doesn’t look at him, shyly turned away, still red in the cheeks. 

How is he so sweet?  

Duke has never met someone so cute, and full of light, and literally glowing. He never stood a chance.

He takes Danny’s hand, gently pulling him down to the roof, wrapping an arm around him once he’s sitting to make sure he doesn’t go floating away.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Oh, I was just… I really like hanging out with you and you’re super cool and I thought I should explain a few things about myself.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I do,” Danny says, resolutely. “First, I’m not from here.”

Duke stares at him. “Yeah, I got that. Kinda obvious after we spoke for the first time.”

“No, I mean. Really not from here. From a different dimension.”

Oh. So Danny’s just casually walking the multiverse, apparently, and chose to return to Gotham to spend time with Duke. That’s honestly really flattering. 

“Makes sense,” he says.

Now Danny’s staring at him, incredulously. “How does that make sense? Do you not have questions about what that means, or where I’m from, or how I got here?”

Duke shrugs. “Not really. Listen, there’s a lot of weird shit in Gotham. Like, a lot. Batman was lost in time once and presumed dead until Red Robin helped get him back. There’s incomprehensible magic and time travel and so many aliens, dude. This is not that out of the ordinary.”

“YOU HAVE ALIENS?” Danny shouts, then claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. And then, whispered, “You have aliens?!”

“Yeah, we have aliens. Some try to kill us and conquer Earth, some live here as superheroes.”

“No way,” Danny breathes. “Can I stay here forever? My dimension doesn’t have aliens. I really want to meet aliens.”

“If you stick around long enough, it’s kind of inevitable that you’ll get caught up in some crazy shit, and you’ll probably be able to meet Superman then. Or maybe Martian Manhunter, if he’s available.”

He watches Danny mouth Martian Manhunter in awe and is so charmed by him and his visible excitement about aliens. Most of this is just how he lives life, knowing all these impossible things are out there but have very little to do with him. It’s only mind blowing when he actually meets Superman and all, but that’s because meeting big heroes is like meeting celebrities and it never stops being cool.

“Wait, I’m getting distracted.” Danny shakes his head, then lightly claps his hands against his cheeks. “Okay, so. I’m from a different dimension. And Tucker has made a few phones that can work literally anywhere. But only to contact other phones he made for interdimensional communication. I had him make one for you so we could keep talking even when I go home, if you wanted.”

“I want it! I very much do want it.”

Danny grins. “Great! Perfect, okay.” He reaches into his own chest (?!) and pulls out a phone.

“Um.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I can use my insides like a pocket dimension for extra storage.”

Sure. This might as well happen. Duke takes the phone and looks it over; it looks like a large, square flip phone, but when it opens, the screen and keyboard are both touchscreens the glow a faint neon green. He opens up the contacts menu, finds Danny, and shoots him a quick text that consists only of a smiley face. 

“Man, this is so cool,” Duke says. “Thanks for giving it to me! I really am glad I can talk to you some more.”

“I feel like I should be thanking you for giving me the time of day.”

Duke knocks his shoulder against Danny’s. “Come on, man, don’t say that. Anyone would be happy to spend time with you. Besides, I’m really not as cool as you think. I’m a normal guy outside the suit.”

“You still have powers.”

“I do, but I’m not the only one.”

“I know this is a bit of a bad question, and I do understand how important secret identities are! But do you think I’d ever get to know you when you’re just… you?”

Duke thinks about how much Batman would disapprove, the lengths Tim went through to protect his own identity as Red Robin, how everyone around him would become a target if anyone figured out who the Signal is…

But then he thinks about how much keeping this secret puts a strain on his relationship with his cousin, how much of a relief it is to have his friends in the know so he doesn’t have to constantly lie to them, how he’s the only hero Danny knows in this dimension and the only person who can help him while he’s here.

“I’ll tell you one day,” Duke says, “Promise. When we get to know each other a little more, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright, that’s fair. Thanks, Signal.”

“You need to get back to your friends?”

“Nah,” Danny shakes his head, “They can manage on their own. Besides, they agreed to one hour each place, and Tucker’s hungry enough to drag Sam out as soon as it hits that hour mark.”

“Well, in that case, why don’t you tell me a little more about your dimension while we wait? Or any other place you’ve visited.”

Danny grins, leaning closer, and says, “Have you ever met a yeti? Cause I have.” . . .

He doesn’t get to see Danny or his friends off when they return to their dimension. They’d been in the planetarium for hours, and Duke had to end patrol and turn in for the day to look over cases with Steph and Tim, then work on his college application. 

He does get a text from Danny, his new phone going off with a soft sound of a wind chime, in the middle of looking at different colleges and stressing out.

Danny: got home safe! off to fight dinner now 🤺

Danny: wanna talk more tomorrow?

Signal: sure! i’d love to!! good luck with dinner?

There’s a brief pause, and then Danny sends a blurry picture of a rotisserie chicken flying through the air towards a woman with red hair, holding out a steak knife, ready to attack. 

…Yeah, he’s going to question that tomorrow. For now, he just sends Danny a thumbs up emoji and goes back to staring at his list of potential schools he wants to go to with growing despair.

Does he want to stay in Gotham? Gotham City University isn’t all that bad, and he’s familiar with the campus. Or maybe Montclair State University. Rowan University and Rutgers University don’t sound bad either, and both are still in the state, so he wouldn’t be too far from Gotham. Maybe he could go to his parent’s alma matter; UCLA and Penn State are both out of state, though, and way more expensive, even if Bruce offered to cover his tuition.

What would he even study?

So lost in thought, Duke almost doesn’t realize that his regular phone is ringing until the noise cuts off. His head jerks up and he stares at it, wondering who could be calling him right after he finished eating dinner. 

Then it rings again, Barbara’s name popping up on the screen, and he lunges for it, worried that something’s going down in Gotham without him noticing.

“Babs! Is something wrong?”

“No. Should something be wrong? I was calling because you didn’t check in with me before you ended patrol, and you haven’t been responding to any of my texts,” she says, sounding distracted as the sound of her keyboard continues on steadily in the background. She must be working as Oracle already, preparing to assist the Bats on their patrols.

“Oh, sorry. Everything’s fine, our visitors were from another dimension and they really were just here to sightsee. Nothing to worry about.”

“I saw that you got a gift.”

Duke understands exactly what she’s calling about, now. He should have expected Barbara to fall to the siren call of new tech. “I did,” he says, offering nothing else just to mess with her.

“Duke,” she says, “It’s a matter of safety.”

“Just admit that you want to check out interdimensional tech.”

Barbara sighs, then says, “I want to look at interdimensional tech. Come by the Clocktower tonight and drop it off.”

“I don’t know, Babs,” he says teasingly, “I think Tim might want a look at it first.”

“I should have never believed Dick when he said you were well behaved. ‘The good one’ my ass,” she grumbles. “What do you want?”

“A favor to be decided in the future. No questions asked expect what’s needed to get that favor done.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll swing by soon. Do you think you could help me with my college apps while I’m there? I have no idea what to do or where to go.”

“Sure,” Barbara agrees, her voice warm, “I’d love the chance to big sister you. Jason hogs you too much.”

He does, and Duke doesn’t really understand why Jason gets along so well with him, but he’s not going to question a good thing. Street kids gotta stick together, after all. Even if neither of them are living on the streets anymore. 

It’s nice to know that the others are just as willing to help him out, even if he works separate from them most of the time these days. 

“Oh, and the phone I got from Danny has contacts already added to it. Please don’t text Danny or anyone else without saying it’s you.”

“That sounds like you’re giving me permission to talk to me.”

“I figured you’d want to talk to Tucker some, since he’s the one who built it.”

“Well,” Barbara says, and he can hear the smile in her voice, “Thanks for the permission. I’ll be sure to get as much information as I can from him.”

“Please don’t ruin this for me.”

Barbara laughs. “Oh, don’t worry Duke. I know how to be nice, especially with people you’re trying to impress. It’s Dick you should be worried about.”

She’s right. 

Duke drops his head onto his desk with a groan.

“I’ll see you later, Duke.”

“Yeah, alright. See you, Babs.”

She ends the call and Duke sighs, contemplating taking a nap before he heads out. But that would mess up his sleep schedule, and he’s willing to do a lot, but not that. Instead, he flicks through his phone to the group chat with his friends, and sends a quick question about when they can hang out again.

He’s missed them. Seeing Danny with Tucker and Sam reminded him of how much he loves his friends and spending time with them. He should take a page from Danny’s book and spend a day with them, just catching up and enjoying their company. 

And if they tease him about his crush on Danny, well, better them than the Bats. 

[rev-wrath]

Liar 3

Dick Grayson x Reader

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Series Masterlist

Summary: Up and down, back and forth. Such is life now for (Y/N) (L/N). But still, what the fuck is happening?

Notes: Reader is male and uses he/him pronouns. Implied autistic!Tim. 4.2k words. Paw dividers by sligheach-side. Send an ask to be part of Liar tag list.

“How are you?” Jason asks.

“Better.” A small smile graces his lips as his eyes sparkle. Both a rarity, the smile moreso. “I called my siblings.”

“Yeah? How did that go?”

“I missed them so much. They’re alive. They’re alive and relatively safe.” If he were honest that’s all that he’s wanted. Yes, he wants to be there for them too, to actually be with them, but he can wait. He won’t take their return for granted, he’ll take what he can for now. What matters is that they are alive, have food, clothes, a roof over their heads, and warmth. There’s also someone taking care of them and they’re in school. Oh god, does he have to go back to school and get a GED? He probably does. “They seem happy too.” It’s all more than he could have ever fathomed.

“They are. Natalia helps in the kitchen and Kiva started learning recently.” West was still at the age where he’s more messy in the kitchen but they were working on that. “Natalia seems to appreciate some of my book recommendations.” He’s also spotted some manga around the house that definitely has to come from Tim. West is also interested in some of them. Jason gives him a look that’s a tad too firm to be called soft. “We’re looking out for them. Sasha too.” The lady housing and acting as the kids’ caretaker right now. His siblings called her “Ms. Sasha”. He doesn’t know much about her but he hasn’t heard anything bad.

“If Natalia starts dating, go and threaten the kid for me?” He’s suddenly reminded of the lack of what he knows about his siblings now and what they’ve been through for the past 6 years. “Actually if any of them do, threaten whoever it is.” After all, he probably won’t be out before they all start dating if they’re interested in romance.

Jason snorts. “Handing off that big brother duty to me? What an honor.”

“You’d scare them plenty.” It is also a sign of trust, he hopes Jason understands that too.

“Yeah, sure, it’ll be fun.” Maybe he does.

“Thank you.”

Jason looks at Dick. Dick who looks so tired in front of him but he’s seen him still smiling when it’s called for. Laugh and throw quips. This whole thing has taken a big toll on him, and Jason might be the only one who actually knows. “Does he even actually talk to you?”

“Not really. He doesn’t even actually look at me sometimes.” There’s a joke, about his irresistible looks or show stopping beauty on his tongue but he just keeps it there. It’s not the time.

Jason exhales. “Maybe you should stop visiting for a while.”

And Dick knows that makes sense, to give (Y/N) some space. Hell, maybe Dick himself needs some to figure out how to approach things better. This could also give him some time to focus on other things more. Thankfully it hasn’t leaked into his life enough for many of the others to notice. “That might be good.”

Jason’s eyes find his. “You’re gonna be fine, Dickwad.” Despite the name his demeanor and voice is soft.

“Thanks Jay.”

“Alright,” The younger stands up, grabbing the cups. “come on, let’s make cocoa.” He heads to the kitchen, ready to swap out the cups for mugs. Dick smiles, following him. Later, they’ll talk more and watch a movie, or a show until they either pass out or decide to call it a night.

“Why do you keep visiting me?” Though he hasn’t been here in almost a month.

“Why do you keep coming?” Dick counters. He never raises his voice, always speaking softly or in pleas. Sometimes he’ll speak a little below his normal voice and very rarely will he speak in his normal voice. Right now he’s speaking a bit softer than his normal voice.

“To ask you why you keep visiting.” (Y/N) shoots back. He turns his head away, hardened gaze looking off to the side. “I don’t know if I can even deny visitors.” Frankly, he doesn’t want to find out. What other bits of his life is in their hands? What else has he been handed or denied?

“I can… I can stop coming if that’s what you really want.”

“Maybe.” He says vaguely.

“Tim!”

“Why don’t you visit more? You used to visit a lot more!” Kiva asks, jumping up with her arms outstretched.

“I’ve been very busy. Sorry, Kiva.” Tim says, taking off his coat and patting her head. He’s not a natural with kids and is still kind of awkward with these ones.

He looks up and seems to be surprised to meet Jason’s careful gaze, West next to him. Natalia is in the kitchen entrance behind him also watching Tim and Kiva.

“JayJay’s telling us a story right now.” She grabs Tim, tugging him over.

“Hi Jason.”

Jason nods. “Hey Tim.” He continues with his story. When dinner gets called Jason and Tim stay behind for a moment, promising to join them soon.

“I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Well I am.” There’s no way he doesn’t know that Jason visits. There’s also been a slight increase since (Y/N) has bestowed that one big brother duty on to him. However he’s also taken that as a sign of something more. He trusts Jason with his siblings, which means a lot.

“How often do you visit?”

“About twice a week when I can.” Whether that means he’s in town to or he’s not too beaten to. “You obviously haven’t been.”

“I just check in every now and then.” By that he means once or twice a month.

“Maybe you should come more if they miss you.”

“I’m busy. Dick visits plenty already.” Jason apparently does too. “How often are you visiting (Y/N)?”

“Enough.” Tim’s eyes don’t narrow but Jason can feel him trying to analyze what exactly that means. In return he looks at Tim, not quite in the eyes but Tim knows what he’s saying. “He’s not a bad person. You knew him too.”

“Hardly.” God, if only Tim knew that Dick’s in love with the guy.

“He’s not a bad person. How much do you even know about him? Because I know you spent time with him before.”

“People change around different people.” That’s just a fact. “The way he acted around me is only a small part of himself.” Jason makes a mental note to ask Dick more about what the fuck (Y/N) did. Until then…

“And what about them?” Jason jerks his head in the direction of the kids. “You brought them here and you don’t spare any time when they clearly miss you. Why? Because case close, mission over? Those are actual kids. You can’t do that to them.” Jason’s protective streak is clearly on display.

Tim deflates. “I’m just busy.” Though he will admit to himself that the kids aren’t very high on his priority list at the moment. Between Young Justice, everything in Gotham, his own personal cases and personal life, added with the fact it has been a long time since they’ve gotten here and knowing Dick’s here, he thinks it’s not as necessary. But Kiva did just say she, at least, misses him.

The older deflates just a bit too. “Take care of yourself, kid. And don’t forget about people.” Tim picks up on the double meaning behind it.

This fucking room.

“Have you spoken to Dick?” The therapist asks.

“He visits.” It’s a deflection, he knows. She, of course, knows this too, as she writes something down.

“Does he talk to you?” She asks.

“Yes.”

“And what does he talk about?”

“My siblings, his brother, Jason, sometimes him, me, the world, Gotham.” The animals without homes he fed, the workers in the shops that give him nostalgia he couldn’t place, the people in the shops that he became a regular at, the people at the libraries he visited, the people that had the courage to sit on a Gotham sidewalk to sell items that he would stop to look at, the ever changing walls filled with graffiti, the ones with murals on them.

“And what do you say?”

The former vigilante shrugs. Dr. Tavarez takes a moment before speaking again.

“You don’t have to forgive him.”

“I know.” He very much does.

“But it is good for you to have good relationships with other people.”

“Jason visits.” He counters.

“Do you speak to him?”

“I do.” It is easier to speak to Jason in a way, there’s so much more he can get out of. Even if deep, deep down he knows there’s so much he wants to say to Dick, so much he’s feeling.

“And what do you talk about with him?”

“Basically the same thing.”

“But you talk to Jason and not Dick.”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Because my relationship with Jason was never based on lies, because he didn’t lie to me, hasn’t and doesn’t.” It’s that simple.

She nods. “I’m here to help, (Y/N). I hope you understand that.”

“There’s no helping. I just sit here and be good, hopefully good enough to get out early enough that my youngest sibling doesn’t celebrate her 30th birthday without me.”

“I know your siblings are important to you. You came here willingly for them and want to leave early for them?”

“Yes.” They mean the world to him. Always have, always will. Regardless of a certain acrobat.

The helmet clicks off as Dick turns on some music and grabs the medical supply having already chucked his mask into its designated box. Jason’s jacket gets semi-folded on the couch as ABBA seeps into the apartment.

With a small clunk Dick’s hefty medkit is placed on the coffee table. Quietly, aside from the occasional grunt or hiss both boys discard their layers to assess their injuries and patch up.

Dick holds out the healing salve. “You have a bruise on your shoulder.”

“I have pit healing.”

“Take the salve, Little Wing.”

Jason grumbles and takes it, twisting around to find the bruise and slap some salve on it.

Dick secures another bandage on himself before standing and heading to the kitchen. He sets a few water bottles down on the counter. “I have chips and dip, different types of dip,” He adds. “sandwich stuff, Pop Tarts and that cereal you like. I’ve also got some fruit.”

“What kind of Pop Tarts?”

“S’mores, strawberry, blueberry, cookies and creme, and the sundae one.” Dick lists off. Jason, mentally making a note to snatch some of them, joins him in the kitchen.

“What’s the sandwich stuff?”

“Usual stuff. I think I’m low on ham though.”

Jason shrugs. “Fine by me.” Swinging open the fridge while Dick rips open a Pop Tart.

“Are you staying here for the night?” He asks in between mouthfuls of frosting and biscuit.

“That’s confidential information.” Dick stares at him.

“How many times have you slept over and left before I realized anything?”

“Less than Tim has.”

Dick sighs. “That makes sense.”

“Go clean up, Dickwad. I can manage making a sandwich.” Jason nudges a shoulder towards the bathroom and bedroom, not taking his eyes off said sandwich. “There’s blood under your chin and dirt on your eyebrows.”

“Alright, alright.” Pushing himself off the counter he heads off to the bathroom.

Most of the blood on him got wiped off with a towel. There wasn’t much of it tonight to begin with, but still. Turning the faucet on he splashes his face. Slowly his thoughts drift to (Y/N).

Quickly shoving those thoughts away he instead goes over what he has to do tomorrow, for the rest of the week. He promised to show Kiva how to do a cartwheel before any basic flips. West was also promised cartwheel lessons. He’s been thinking about taking them out somewhere for fun. Maybe out of Gotham, but there’s some local things they could probably do. Laser tag might be good, or bowling. Bowling would be nice.

Returning to the kitchen Jason has made himself comfortable at one of the barstools. Dick picks up his Pop Tart packet to finish up the second one. A calm silence washes over them as they eat.

“Why’d you do it?” Jason’s deep voice softly cuts the silence, in the way a knife goes into soft butter.

“Why’d I do what?”

“(Y/N).” Dick turns his head but doesn’t say anything so Jason continues. “Why’d you keep going with the mission and then try to make up with him?”

“Because I felt bad, because he deserves better. He doesn’t have much but he’s nice, he’s kind, and snarky. He does this thing where his brow furrows a little when he’s thinking, or confused or just when you do something stupid and he doesn’t agree with it, but he’ll watch it happen and maybe call you stupid after, and he still listens to the radio. He can tie 20 different knots and knows bits of 4 different languages but couldn’t hold an actual conversation in any of them.” Courtesy of the different types of people (Y/N) grew up around. He told Dick he only knew enough to be polite enough, or to get some scraps of information about people, places, directions. Dick tried to speak to him in one of the languages and he was awful at it and they both laughed about it.

“He…” Dick trails off, swallowing. “He was my best friend, someone I could relax around. I felt free around him.” Sometimes for a moment Dick felt like anyone else in Gotham, he could imagine that this is what it was like to not have to travel around the world taking down global superpowered threats, growing up with anger in his veins that turned into nightly fights along with dealing with the rogue of the month.

He can feel Jason watching him carefully. The judgment, the care, the softness, as he realizes just how deep of a hole Dick dug himself into. As Jason opens his mouth Dick decides to make his escape.

“I think I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight Jay.” Jason doesn’t miss the way Dick’s fingers flex, the itch to do something there. Whether that something is a distraction or a desperation for a solution he doesn’t know.

He watches his older brother retreat back to his own room before Jason quietly sets to cleaning up and slipping out of the window. Messy relationships were far too common in this family but this type of messy wasn’t Dick’s usual style, more of Bruce’s if he was going to be honest. Still, a mess was a mess.

Purple and red blotches decorate his skin. Dick’s eyes have been darting around his entire body, mouth opening slightly before closing. He does this a few times, struggling to find the right words to say about it. (Y/N) takes mercy on him and speaks first.

“Someone realized who I was. There’s a few people in here because I put them here. Word’s probably going to get out that I was Tig. Surprised it took this long.” He’s been here for a good while now, and it’s not like his story is one people would sweep under the rug. Unless Dick and his family swept it themselves.

“I didn’t think about that… I’m sorry.”

“Well, at least you thought about my visitors list. Don’t need people pissed off at me coming at me in and out of here.”

“I’ll see if—”

“It’s a fucking prison, fights are bound to happen. I can handle myself.” He’s been toying with the idea of finding decent people and making allies in here but that might be more trouble. Groups were usually messy in his experience.

“I just want you to be okay.” Unbelievable. “Did the medics look at you?”

“I’m alive. People here are mad at me, and will continue to be mad at me. End of story.” If Dick would just fucking stop trying to be nice life might be easier.

“When are you coming to visit?” Kiva asks.

“As soon as I can. I promise.”

“When can we visit?”

“Kiva, we talked about this.” He’s never letting them come here. Too many people, some with a history with him. Now that people know who he is things have gotten more complicated. Things will also be complicated after he gets out. He’s been assured though that it will be handled. The amount of trust he’s continued to put into that family is surprising.

“But I miss you. We miss you.”

“I miss you guys too. I miss you so much.”

“But Jason and Dick visit you!”

“That’s because they’re big kids.” West says.

“He’s right, sweetheart.”

“Yeah! They’re so strong too! Dick can also do backflips and stuff.”

“They are.”

“They said you’re really strong too.” Kiva announces.

“Yeah? Well I’m slacking a little right now.”

“That’s okay.” West assures him. “As long as you’re okay.”

His heart clenches. He doesn’t even think Kiva remembers him much and West’s memories of him might be pretty spotty too with how long it’s been. Who even knows what they’ve gone through in the last 6 years on top of their childhood. Both Jason and Dick have assured him that they’re in therapy. “Yeah, I’m okay, buddy. Thanks.” In response West makes an affirmative sound.

There’s some muffled speaking on the other end. “Yeah!” West says, but he knows it’s not directed at him.

“Hi (Y/N).”

“Hi Nat. How are you, sweetie?”

“I’m good. We all are. I miss you.” If anyone remembers him much it’s Nat. To remember what he did and what it was like growing up. She remembers the people who took care of them before they died. That’s something he knows Kiva can’t remember, West at this age probably doesn’t either.

“I miss you too, all of you.” It strikes him then that Dick and Jason know more about Kiva, at least, than he does. “I’ll come visit as soon as you can.”

“Are you going to stay with us?”

“I’d like to, but we’ll see what I can do. I’ll figure it out. Dick and Jason are going to help.”

“Tim too?” Kiva asks.

He hasn’t seen Tim since that night. Seems like the same can’t be said for his siblings. Resisting the urge to snort he answers, “I think Dick and Jason will have it handled.” Even if they stop visiting as much he knows at least, they will be there when he gets out. If they are alive by then, if he’s alive by then. No, he’ll fight tooth and nail to make it back to them.

Unknown to him Natalia opens her mouth before shutting it. Because she remembers and she has so much to ask, so much she wants to tell him. Not now, not here. She’ll get the phone and have more time at some point. She has her own cell phone now. So they talk about mundane things until he says. “I have to go, I’m out of time. I love you guys.”

“Love you too! Bye (Y/N)!”

“Bye! Love you!”

“Bye (Y/N), love you.”

“You’ve been visiting me an awful lot since I got in here. You don’t usually stay in Gotham this long.” The longest Jason’s been gone is a month, which is strange because despite his relationship with his family getting better Jason is Jason and runs on his own agenda.

“I’ve got some work to do here, it’s going to take awhile.” His eyes flicker over the bruises on his skin causing his brows to furrow slightly and edges of his lips twitch for a slight second before going back to their previous state. Jason doesn’t say anything about it and he appreciates it. There’s an understanding the two of them have being Gotham street kids. Being from the same part of town, one that took everything they had and ripped it away to create the men they are now. Speaking of which…

“How is the Bowery?” It’s well known that it’s Red Hood’s territory.

“Slowly getting better. I,” Jason pauses. “Bruce has been helping, putting centers nearby, stores and shelters. There’s a food bank and a restaurant where people just pay what they can.”

“I guess, now you know why I never went with you.” Sometimes (Y/N) would hand things off to Dick to give to Jason or hand them directly to Jason so that it could be given to the people there. But he never went with Jason to drop it off or go himself. Work sometimes took him there, those jobs were done with more effort and tried to be done as quickly as possible.

Secretly he thinks that he’s just not strong enough to do what Jason does, that he’s too selfish to. Maybe he’s just not a good enough person to.

Jason nods. “Yeah, I do. But I appreciate what you did.” It was as much as he could do. Jason also knows trauma very intimately. He wonders if Bruce could understand (Y/N) too. He wonders if Dick has talked to Bruce about him, if he’s tried to advocate for him.

“You thought your siblings had been dead, correct?” Dr. Tavarez asks.

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I saw them die.”

“Would you like to explain further?”

A metallic thud. Screaming. Crying. Yelling. More metal. Blood. A gunshot. Another one. Cold. A punch. Aches. Avenge.

“Gotham streets are not kind.”

He leaves the room soon after that.

“Because what would you know about getting your hands dirty to have a roof over your head or food in your stomach? You never had to worry about that. None of you did, none of you except Jason.” There’s a spark of anger in his eyes, a dangerous glimmer. Dick’s not even entirely sure how they got here. Maybe something about how Dick misses him or how (Y/N) really was a good person and he’s so sorry it ended up like this.

Maybe if (Y/N) had done something different, maybe if anything had been different, then this would be different. Then (Y/N) had bit back something about how maybe if Dick was different but thank fuck that he knows Dick’s true colors now.

“You kept going, even after that.” Like Dick does, coming back, talking. Despite what Jason says, what he’s been trying to work on. Dick with all his feelings and the ever growing amount of responsibilities he has.

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s hard to have a life when you barely exist in the eyes of the government.” Even in Gotham, where that’s pretty common. “And there were more scumbags out there, more families being torn apart, more childhoods being stolen.”

“There were better ways.”

“It’s what I knew. It’s the language they know. It’s what some people deserve.”

Dick knows that. He does. He knows it after seeing Jason when he came back and accepting his new ways. He knows it after Kori and Roy joined Jason and formed the Outlaws. He knows that after he beat Joker an inch within his life after he thought he killed Tim. He knows that with the quiet, angry fire always deep within him. He takes a moment to think before responding.

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, but I think you weren’t always right, that you didn’t always do the right things. Some of the jobs you took hurt other people.”

“Welcome to life, do you need to catch up? The world isn’t black and white and people get hurt no matter how much you try. You do what you can.”

“(Y/N).” That fucking look on his face.

“Why do we keep doing this? Nothing happens. You come looking like a kicked puppy, look at me and come talk to me while I just fucking sit here and wonder why the hell any of this ever happened. What are you trying to do now? Haven’t you done enough?” Frankly he’s fucking tired of it and might take Dick up on that offer to not come back.

“Not until I can make it up to you.”

“We’re not doing this again.” His voice is firm and harsh. “There is nothing you can do. Not here, because you can’t.” Because he won’t. Because despite his own rocky relationship with him he is his father’s child, he is Batman’s first protege.

“There is. There has to be.” He’s absolutely desperate.

“You have given me the one thing I’ve wanted for the last 6 years and you’ve taken it out of my reach. You have condemned me.” Out of everything (Y/N) has or hasn’t ever said since he’s gotten here that one might have hit the hardest.

“I’ll make it up to you. Even if it’s not while you're here. Even if it takes years.”

“Why? Why do you keep trying? You’re the reason I’m here in the first place, so why try to make it up to me?”

“Because I love you!” They both pause, and falter. The confession hangs in the air between them. That’s also the loudest Dick has been since he’s been here. He goes to say something, but (Y/N) is faster.

“Don’t ever fucking come back.”

[weepingwriter]

Proxy Headcannons

TW: I couldn't find anything but please feel free to comment if I need to edit!!

–The Proxies Overall–

Their working with the Operator has allowed for all three to gain enhancements of their normal abilities. 

All of them are stronger than average and faster than average

They can regenerate so long as they are close enough in proximity to the Operator.

They have better hearing than most normal humans.

They are ranked above pastas. The system is a hierarchy so very few proxies actually exist under the Operators rule, but many pastas exist. 

—Brian Thomas—

This man is massive. He stands at the towering height of 6’6” and weighs around 220 lbs. This man could crush your head like a watermelon between his thighs if he really wanted to. 

Out of the three proxies, he probably has the best relationship with the operator. This isn't because he has a good relationship with it, but because he is the one who fights his control the least. 

“Hoodie” is just a persona of sorts that Brian puts on when he works. He does this as a way to cope with the reality of how his life has changed since he started working for the eldritch being. 

For him it’s like acting. He steps foot into a character and steps out as soon as the job is over and his mask is off

He only wears his mask and hoodie when he’s working as well, this feeds into his dramatization of his work.

This isn't to say that Brian is still his same bubbly self as he was in college. This life has still hardened him. He has become a paranoid, harsh, shell of himself.

Brian tends to be the most manipulative out of the three. He can play Mr. Charming and gain the trust of others easily. He will use whoever he can to get whatever he wants.

He’s very good at reading people. He tends to be a rather social butterfly and makes friends much easier than Tim and Toby. 

He definitely blames himself for dragging both Tim and Jay into this life. 

His favorite weather is when there’s lots of thunderstorms and heavy rain. It tends to help him sleep better at night.

His favorite genre of music is probably old country. Think Johnny Cash and George Jones. He despises most new country though. If he’s not listening to that then he’s probably listening to 90’s grunge. 

He prefers to use CDs and cassette tapes rather than phones or computers. He just enjoys the aesthetic of it a lot.

His favorite game is Mario kart, specifically on the Wii.

His favorite food is biscuits and gravy. He’s a southern boy so it’s a comforting, cheap meal that he can make rather easily.

Probably the best cook in the house when he does cook. He doesn’t do it very often because of lack of supplies however.

—Tim Wright—

Chronic smoker. Like a pack-a-day kind of guy. It’s the first thing he does in the morning.

Funnily enough he still brushes his teeth after every cigarette if he can. If not, he’s chewing on a stick of gum right after.

Big man as well, but definitely shorter than Brian. He stands at around 6’0” even and weighs near 210 lbs as well. Think of your typical strong-man build

He’s the shortest of the proxies, but he makes up for it in brute strength. This man is like a fucking tank, he can and will run someone down if he gets the chance.

He probably fights the operator the most when it comes to allowing it to fully take over. He’ll do his job as asked so long as it allows him to stay in control of his body.

He definitely has the shortest temper. Ever since he was forced into this life Tim’s limits have been pushed and he tends to lash out on whoever he can in the moment.

He also tends to be rather insensitive even to his work partners' needs or emotions. In his mind, this world is do or die, there’s no room for thoughts and feelings about how these things work.

Tim enjoys alternative music, more on the softer early 2000’s rock side, but he’s also grown rather fond of Brian’s country music as well. His favorite band is probably three days grace or breaking benjamin

He tends to hum little songs through the day when he’s off duty, often when he’s doing mundane tasks like chores and whatnot to fill the silence. Sometimes, if he can get his hand on one, he’ll still practice the guitar on days off.

Very very private man. He doesn’t like talking about his past, his problems, his life, his anything. He’s got walls around him stronger than steel and very few people are allowed in.

For a while he held a lot of resentment towards Brian but he had since gotten through it. Sometimes when they fight however he does bring up their past in fits of anger. He never really means what he says though.

Is by far one of the most loyal men you will ever meet in your life. No matter how many fights with Brian and Toby he has he will remain by their side and stick up for them in any circumstance. He does not take kindly to anyone shittalking his teammates.

An early bird. Tim enjoys having the mornings to himself so he can sit outside and sip on a cup of coffee. Because of this, he tends to be in bed by 10 pm at the latest to make sure he gets enough sleep.

His favorite time of the year is spring. He doesn’t like when it’s too hot or too cold outside. Surprisingly, he does like to look at flowers as they remind him of his mom and his life before all this.

His favorite flowers are magnolias

—Toby Rogers—

Toby is the second tallest within the group, standing at the height of 6’2”. He weighs about 155-160 lbs. He absolutely loves to pick on Tim because of their height difference.

Tends to be the most hostile to new people due to his lack of social skills. He’s rather untrusting and wary, especially of older men.

Is rather indifferent about his facial scarring. Really the only reasons he will cover up with a mask or bandage is if they’re out in town and they need to be inconspicuous.

Despite him being on the leaner side Toby does have this abnormal strength about him. Definitely has a sleeper build. When out in public he tends to wear more loose clothing that hides his physique but at home it's all tank tops and muscle shirts for training. 

Has a lot of sensory issues. He hates to be in loud or crowded places for long periods of time. He’s learned to get over it with time, but being at home in his room is definitely his preferred place. 

He cannot stand the texture of some clothes. If it doesn't feel right then he literally will not wear it. Same goes for certain blankets or sheets even.

He spends a lot of his free time either reading or drawing. Toby has a rather overactive imagination so he really immerses himself into his fantasy worlds that he creates

Toby by far has the most difficult relationship with the operator. This isn’t because he fights like Tim does, but simply because it takes the worst toll on his body and mind. Because of the lapses in memory and overworking of his body Toby ends up hurt or drained for days, sometimes even weeks after missions.

He definitely is the most okay with the work they do. He doesn't really feel any guilt or other emotions when it comes to his victims. To him they don’t really exist outside of this little vacuum of work. He barely even recognizes them as human.

Toby definitely is the clingiest out of the boys as well. He has his few select people that he enjoys being around and he tends to linger around them when possible. He’s not one for much physical touch with friends however, he just needs to be able to see them.

His favorite genre of music is probably metalcore/electronic metal. He really enjoys Bring Me the Horizon, Linkin Park, and Motionless in White. He however will listen to just about anything and has the most diverse playlists in the house.

His favorite season/weather is Winter. Toby loves the snow and how crisp and soft it is. He could spend hours outside when it snows. 

Toby is actually the usual cook in the home. Despite his usual depiction, he has a rather steady hand especially when he’s concentrating on something. His tics tend to be more verbal anyways than physical.

This man is scarily fast. Genuinely if he had gone to high school he would likely have been a track star. He can run a mile in just under six minutes. If a victim does manage to escape from his teammates, he's on their asses faster than they can blink half the time. 

Toby has very few memories of his life before the operator. He knows faintly of his family and their names but he cannot remember faces or voices. Trying to make him remember anything further often leads to rather bad episodes for him, so Tim and Brian do their best not to bring up his past or ask too many questions about it. 

[msfcatlover]

Y’know what? Jason deserves one non-traumatic win in my Reverse!Robins AU. I’m tying saving Eddie into the immediate follow-up to the Red Robin/”Bruce is ‘dead’” arc, and I’m using it to fully cement Jay’s relationship with Steph.

(Somehow this ended up a full overview of that relationship. Oops. Anyway, CW for allusions to the Tower fight, the Joker, & the Red Robin arc, and all the traumas one can expect to accompany those.)

After the fight at the Tower, Jason was a mess and trying to hide it. He could admit to Cass (can’t lie to Cass anyway) that Steph scared him, could admit to Damian that Jason wanted more training to ensure his own safety, could even admit (haltingly) to Duke that Steph wasn’t what Jason thought she’d be. But… Jason’s never been good at handling vulnerability, and on top of everything else there’s this irrational sense of betrayal, that the other batkids kept telling Jason how much he & Steph would’ve gotten along, how proud Steph would be of Jason, and it turns out that actually she hates him. Jason’s hero doesn’t care if he lives or dies, even if it’s by her hand. All of Jason’s siblings are fucking liars.  (Also, Jason doesn’t know what it’ll do to him if he opens up about his hurt, his conflicting feelings, his trauma, and gets brushed off. Everyone’s missed Steph so much, and it’s easy for Jason to imagine his pain being brushed off or downplayed as being at most a barrier to Steph’s return. It’s easier to just put on a brave face than find out the exact limits of his family’s love for him.)

Even after Gotham settles back into an uneasy peace, Steph the new power player & sometimes-villain reigning over Crime Alley, Jason avoids her. It takes Jason a few weeks to realize nobody seems to trust Steph around Jason; he hardly ever patrols alone anymore, and those patrols never go near her turf, someone always meets up with him if a chase takes Jason within spitting distance of the Alley, he’s not allowed on the few team-ups they have with her… and Steph is avoiding Jason too.

They do become more civil over a few accidental meetings. A few unexpected run-ins on patrol, where she basically ignores him. A few more where they have to work together, at least to win the fight. Jason decides to crash at a safehouse, Steph is already there (and a complete mess from a fight that went very, very wrong earlier in the evening), and Steph groans that she’s too tired to do this right now and can they please just ignore eachother and then never mention this again? A handful of times she rescued Jason from kidnappers, seemingly by accident, with slightly less plausible deniability each time. Once or twice Jason’s case found Steph in a rough spot and he jumped in to rescue her. The ear infection incident.  They can just about pass for friendly work acquaintances who’ve never beaten eachother so badly one of them threw up and then required emergency medical care.

(Steph does try to apologize at one point, when they were both getting a midnight snack from the same food vendor, getting as far as, “I refuse to let Batman & Nightwing set the standard for emotional honesty in my life, so I’m—” then a shootout started up a few streets over. She swore, shoved her burrito into Jason’s hands, and took off. Jay had to get Tim to tell him Steph didn’t fucking die, because she never even checked back in.) (Too busy doing emergency surgery on her own leg, and cursing that she absolutely is taking her emotional cues from Damian, because the idea of having that conversation when she can’t just disappear the second it’s awkward is more than she can deal with right now.)

Then the Joker happens. Steph stays at Jason’s side until he can walk on his own again. They have several tough conversations during that time, and there are moments when they both need space from eachother, but Steph rescuing Jason has basically turned her into a mental safety blanket for him, and Jason’s situation was close enough to Steph’s death that she needs to make sure he doesn’t die the same miserable way she did. She does go back to avoiding Jason for a while once he’s off his crutches, but only for a couple weeks (during which everyone guilts her for it,) before Jason tracks her down and shows up in civvies like, “Look, you can never see me again if you want, I just wanted to make sure we’re good. I mean, we’re cool now, right?”  (They both definitely still have hang ups & issues in their relationship, but yeah, they’re cool now. Or maybe it’d be more accurate to say they’ve been cool for a while, they’re just on the same page about it now.)

Bruce “dies.” The Red Robin arc happens. Jason gets stabbed, takes a dip in the Pit, calls Steph to ask her how to manage Pit Madness, which is why she was already on her way and in time to save him from… y’know, the other big traumatic thing that arc is known for.  I am going to cut Jason some slack and end the arc there. He already has his proof, Steph takes him back to Gotham, he crashes at her place while the Justice League tracks down Bruce. They have a Disney marathon and don’t talk about it over the most ridiculous ice cream sundaes they can make from supermarket supplies.  (Damian does find out, because he walked in on them talking around it when he stopped by to make sure they were both okay. Dami & Steph also end up having a heart to heart when he puts the pieces together and she runs after him to remind him not to take his anger out on the local criminals when he’s worked up like this. It’s only then, in the hall of a run-down apartment building at 4am, reassuring Damian that both Steph & Jason are going to be okay, that Steph realizes for the first time how small her big brother looks from her new perspective.) (Tank!Damian supporters DNI, that boy’s a beanpole, and Steph is already like 6ft tall without a Lazarus upgrade, she’s like 6′6 or something here.)

Jason reaches out to the Titans after Bruce comes home, and finds out that thanks to all Eddie’s dimension-hopping (and probably some weird timeloop/travel story arcs at some point, if we’re being real, it is comics after all,) even though Eddie & Jason were the same age when they met and Jason’s only just celebrated his 18th birthday, Eddie had apparently passed 20yrs of life at some point while Jason was gone and got dragged to Hell.

Jason will absolutely not stand for this. He calls Steph up and asks if she wants to help him bully the fucking Devil Himself.

13hrs later, Jason has his best friend back.  (Eddie’s just like, “Jay??? When’d you turn into a fucking giant? How long was I gone?!”)

[odos-bucket]

In Which Each of Bruce’s Kids Come Out to Him

and then he comes out to them

Dick

They’re working on opposite sides of the coffee table in one of the manor’s more habitable sitting room’s. It’s become a regular part of their weekday routine: Bruce finishes up whatever office work he has to do, while Dick does his homework, and talks about his day. Usually there are snacks involved. A parenting book Bruce had read recommended trying to get their work done together. It’s a good way to keep connected with their increasingly busy schedules.

“So anyways…” Dick’s story is starting to slow down a little bit, and the shift in tone has Bruce glancing up from his paperwork. “I should probably tell you, since, well, everyone knows at school now.” His voice is still conversational, and relaxed, but a little distracted.

Bruce shifts him his full attention.

“See, what happened was Cameron Josephs in my third period biology class came to school with nail polish on today, which I noticed with my clever detective skills, and promptly dismissed as unimportant, and everyone else noticed with their nosy pre-teen skills, and promptly lost their shi- I mean, minds over. And that was Mrs. Horton’s class, and she has absolutely no control over her students, so it sort of became this whole big thing. Kids were making fun of him, and other kids were yelling at them to knock it off, and he was just trying to do his work, but the rest of the class got into a big fight. And then Brad Cormick- he’s on my basketball team- made a homophobic joke, and we were sitting at the same table, and I could tell that he wanted me to laugh at it. So I told him to shut up, and said that I was bisexual, not that any of it really had anything to do with anything else that was going on, but it did get him to shut up, which was good. Except that I think it may have been because I have more friends than Cameron does, which is totally unfair, and everyone should just be nice to everyone else no matter what, but also I guess not really the point… The point is, yeah, I’m bi. Oh, also frog dissection got moved to tomorrow because one kid threw up.”

Dick takes a deep breath (finally) and a long sip of his juice, before immediately returning to doodling athletic stick figures in the margins of his algebra homework.

Bruce studies him for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of response is expected of him, what would be helpful for Dick to hear. He’s really not very good at this kind of thing.

He’s saved from the risk of putting his foot in his mouth when the science class story continues.

“Are frogs really that gross? I don’t think they are. But I guess our basement is filled with guano, so maybe my tolerance is heightened by regular exposure to the substance most frequently equated with insanity.”

Dick hadn’t seemed nervous before coming out, or relieved after. And if he’s not going to make it into a big deal then neither is Bruce, even if a part of him feels pleasantly warmed by the casual show of trust.

Jason

Bruce loves picking up his kids from school. It’s not something that his schedule allows him to do very often, and Jason- as Dick had been before him- always seems pleasantly surprised to see him. It’s a little thing in the grand scheme, but it’s just nice, normal. And he would never say it out loud- he’s not sure why, he knows he should- but he cherishes the little bit of extra time spent with his boys.

But today Jason isn’t happy to see him.

Bruce pulls up to the curb, and only has to scan the crowd of teenagers for a few seconds before spotting him. He’s on a bench with another student, their shoulders pressed together despite wide swaths of free space available on either side of them. Jason’s pointing out something in a textbook, while the other boy plays with his free hand.

Bruce pulls slightly to the side to let another car drive around him, figuring he’ll give Jason a few minutes to finish up, and notice that Bruce is there, rather than call out and risk embarrassing him.

It’s not even a full minute before they make eye contact across the lot, and immediately something in Jason’s expression changes. His eyes go wide and startled, his posture suddenly tightened. In one fast motion he shuts his book with both hands, muttering something to his friend as he practically throws himself off the bench.

Now feeling on high alert, Bruce sweeps an intense gaze over the school yard for anything that could have upset his son. He doesn’t manage to spot anything before Jason arrives at the car and pulls himself into the backseat (where he never sits, unless the front is already occupied). He starts talking before Bruce can ask what’s wrong.

“That wasn’t what it looked like!”

Bruce frowns, and looks over both Jason and the area in front of the school in an attempt to identify something that isn’t like how it looks.

“He just-“ Jason flinches, seemingly realizing something wrong with whatever he’d been about to say, and cuts himself off with a sharp breath. “I mean-“

Feeling lost is by no means a new part of parenthood for Bruce, and he’s sure it’s something he’ll experience many more times going forward. But, god, he really hates not understanding what’s going on, not knowing what to do, and he doubts that he’ll ever get used to it.

“Jason,” he tries. “Slow down.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason answers automatically. “Sorry.”

It’s been over a year since Jason’s called him ‘sir’ and the sudden reintroduction of the honorific sends a cold chill down Bruce’s spine. For a second they just stare at each other, with what Bruce is pretty sure are matching expressions of partially concealed horror.

“Jason,” he says more quietly.

“I know,” Jason interrupts. “I’m sorry. Please-“ He stops himself, covering his mouth before he can finish the thought, and then just as quickly lowering the hand back to his lap.

Another silence follows, short but harrowing. Then finally Bruce makes a rare admission

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Jason stares at him, and the wider his eyes get the younger he looks, and the more Bruce wants to scoop him up into his arms. But he just waits, and tries not to look too expectant.

“I-I was holding hands with Derek,” Jason breaths out.

“…Alright?” He’s heard that name before. Jason doesn’t have as many friends at school as Dick had, so they’re a little easier to keep track of, even if Bruce has only ever met any of them in passing. “Is this someone you’re worried I’ll embarrass you in front of?” He asks after a brief pause.

Jason keeps staring at him, expression crinkling as his breathing grows erratic.

Bruce finds himself automatically exaggerating his own inhales and exhales, resting the side of one hand against his sternum, to remind Jason of some of their breathing exercises.

“That’s it, chum,” he says as he sees it slowly begin to work. “Everything’s okay.” For all he knows- or doesn’t know- right now it might not even be true, but dammit for his kid he will make everything okay.

“Everything’s okay,” Jason obediently echoes.

Bruce takes his hand off his chest, and starts to reach towards him. But Jason flinches away from him, not as violently as he had back when they were still new to each others’ lives, but it’s enough to make Bruce feel sick. He can practically feel the wrongness of it squeezing his heart into shards as he slowly withdraws his arm back into the front seat. He had truly thought that they had gotten past this.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” he says softly, a small concession to the part of himself that wants to beg his son’s forgiveness for whatever he’s done to make him afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason’s not looking at him anymore. His head is down, and his gaze is fixed on his knees.

Bruce hesitates.

“I’ll never hurt you.” It’s a reassurance he had thought they were past the point of needing, but if they aren’t he’ll say it as many times as he has to. “Never.”

“Are you mad?”

“Is there something particular that I’m supposed to be mad about?” Bruce asks carefully.

“... That I was holding hands with a guy,” Jason elaborates, after a steadying breath.

Oh, Bruce is an idiot. What kind of detective is he if he can’t even- He cuts himself off, realizing he can’t wait too long to respond to that.

“Of course not. That’s what this is about?”

“I never meant for you to find out,” is the response he gets. And doesn’t that just hurt like hell to hear?

“That you like boys?” Bruce confirms.

“And girls, both. But I didn’t know what you’d think, so I figured if I couldn’t be sure it was better to keep it to myself.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a second to calm his own breathing.

“I never want you to feel like that,” he says. “About anything. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I love you, Jaylad, that isn’t contingent on anything.”

I wish I could have protected you from whatever it was that made you feel like this was something you had to hide. He doesn’t say it.

Jason is finally looking at him again, gaze thoughtful and careful. A long moment passes, before he surprises- and momentarily terrifies- Bruce by getting out of the car. But before he can react to that, Jason’s climbing into the passenger seat, and after a second of hesitation, leaning into Bruce’s side.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sounding a little choked up.

Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders. The closeness is a balm after the pain of having his son flinch away from him.

Tim

Tim isn’t supposed to come over today. His parents are in town, and Bruce had made a point of hiding his reluctance when he’d given Robin the week off, chastising himself for the empty nest syndrome he has no right to be experiencing- at least in regards to this particular child.

So he’s surprised when he hears Alfred’s throat clear, and looks up to see both Alfred and Tim lingering in the doorway to his office. It would be odd to see him here at this time of day even if they had been planning to go on patrol; sunset is still a few hours off.

Bruce immediately has a bad feeling. He knows it’s commonplace for the Drakes to disappear unexpectedly partway through whatever length of time they were meant to be spending at home. As Batman it’s made his life easier numerous times. As a parent it’s beyond his comprehension. If he still had his boys at home- but he can’t think about that, not without breaking down, and if Tim’s just been abandoned that’s the last thing he needs.

As he approaches the door, Alfred’s pointed look, and Tim’s vacant expression confirm that he’s right to be concerned.

“Tim.” He keeps his voice neutral. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

He picks up on Alfred’s glare a fraction of a second too late to realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry.” There’s something miserable in Tim’s voice, that makes Bruce want to bundle him up in a blanket. Before he can assure him that he has nothing to apologize for, Alfred cuts in.

“I told Master Tim that he’s welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs.”

Bruce nods automatically, looking down at Tim, who’s glassy expression looks a million miles away.

“Tim,” he says gently, eventually drawing the boy’s gaze, but feeling disconcerted by how delayed the response is.

Alfred leaves with a comment about putting a kettle on for tea, closing the door firmly but softly behind him. The sound it makes as it pulls all the way shut still makes Tim twitch.

“Do you want to sit down?” Bruce offers.

Tim stumbles a bit on his way to the couch. He’s so out of it; He won’t be patrolling tonight, even if his schedule’s suddenly open for it. Bruce sits down on the other side.

“Are they gone again?” He asks, trusting fully that the vaguely worded question will be completely understood.

There’s a worrying delay before Tim shakes his head, giving Bruce ample time to wish for Alfred back before he can register the response enough to be surprised by it.

“So...“ he begins uncertainly, before being cut off.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says again. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t a bother, Tim.”

The- admittedly somewhat monotone- assurance just gets him a shrug.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He tries.

“Do I have to?” Tim asks after a long silence. “Can’t I just stay here?”

Bruce frowns.

“Of course you can stay here. But I think I really need to know what’s going on.”

Tim stares at him, eyes shining, mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks.

“Can I- Alfred says I can tell you something, and you won’t get mad?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” Bruce says, thinking back on every time a robin has had something to tell him, but first wanted confirmation that he wouldn’t be angry.

Tim seems to shrink at his words, his breath catching audibly as he curls in on himself. Fuck, Bruce is bad at this.

“What do you have to tell me?” He asks.

“Well now I don’t know if I want to!” It almost comes out as a yell, strained by the sound of held back tears, and Bruce is a little taken aback.

“I’ll probably find out at some point,” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tim chokes on something that sounds like a suppressed sob.

No, no, no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Bruce reaches out for him in an awkward and hastily aborted movement.

“I can’t,” Tim says after a minutes, tears streaking over his pale cheeks. “If you don’t-“ His voice catches. “I need you to let me stay here.”

Bruce’s heart hurts as he scooches a little closer, reaching out to rest a hand- hopefully not too awkwardly- on Tim’s shoulder.

“Of course you can stay here,” he reiterates. “I told you you could stay here. Even if I’m mad at you you can stay here. If you-“ He searches for a moment. “-Took the batmobile out on a joyride, and drove it into the harbor, I’ll be mad at you, but you’ll still have a place here. One will never have anything to do with the other.”

Tim makes a noise that’s over too quickly for Bruce to be able to tell if it had been a laugh, or just more crying.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Dick,” Bruce corrects.

This time Tim definitely snorts, which has Bruce smiling in spite of himself.

“Did you do something worse than that?” He asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tim makes an unhappy face at the question.

“I- no!” He says, defensive, but confident. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it.

“Then why would I be mad at you?”

The humor that had begun to make its way into Tim’s expression disappears again, and Bruce curses himself.

“Mom and Dad were mad,” he says quietly.

Bruce scowls. He tries pretty hard not to let his dislike of Jack and Janet show around Tim- though he’s long suspected the young detective can tell- but it’s harder to hide sometimes than others.

“You said they were still home,” he remembers. “Tim, did they kick you out?” He does his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

And then he finds himself doing his best to keep the anger off of his face when it takes Tim a moment to answer the question.

“I don’t think forever,” he says uncertainly. “Just- They said they needed time to think about it, to d-decide what to do.”

The slight stutter puts him over the age, and fury starts to trickle into Bruce’s voice.

“To think about what?” He demands. Hell, that place is more Tim’s home than it is theirs. They have absolutely no right to ask him to leave! And where the hell do they expect him to go? Bruce forces himself to clench his jaw, and take deep breaths.

“...I’m gay,” Tim finally says.

Bruce stares at him for the second that it takes for the words to register, and connect back to the rest of the conversation.

“That’s it?”

He’s wincing at himself before the question is all the way out of his mouth, immediately convinced that he’s said the wrong thing again. But then, to his immense relief, he realizes that Tim has started laughing. It isn’t deep, or sustained. His voice is still a little weak, and his eyes are still a little red. But he’s definitely laughing, and Bruce realizes vaguely that a robin laughing is still his favorite sound in the world.

“That’s it,” Tim confirms, on the tail end of his laugh.

“Oh, Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess the motion before he pulls the boy into a hug, satisfied that it was the right course of action when he feels Tim melt against him.

“Of course I’m not mad, of course I’m not mad,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m sorry I let you think I would be. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass, and he realizes there’s a wet patch at his shoulder where Tim’s face is buried. Bruce freezes, totally unsure of what he’s done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” Tim breaths out. “I- thank you. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if- I- I don’t want to be alone!”

“Not alone,” Bruce promises. “You’re not alone. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tim presses closer, and Bruce takes it as a cue to tighten his hold.

Alfred finds them like that a few minutes later, Tim curled up in his arms, while Bruce cycles through reassurances. The look they exchange is enough to confirm that they’re both thinking the same thing: this kid is ours.

Cass

One day Cass hangs a little pride flag up on her door. Later in the week when she catches Bruce glancing at it, she comes up to him, gives the flag a meaningful nod, before just saying, “Girls!” in a happy voice, giving him a hug, and disappearing down the hall.

Damian

Bruce can identify every member of his family by their knock, but Damian’s is particularly distinctive. Not just because it tends to come from a lower part of the door, but because Damian has cultivated a strong knock, the way businessmen cultivate a strong handshake. It’s a very confident and determined sound, that he often finds himself stifling a smile at, knowing that that isn’t at all the intended reaction.

“Come in,” he calls, and there’s no pause before Damian strides into his office, confident as ever. When he speaks however, the undercurrents of his voice tell a different story.

“Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you.” There are a few hesitations, that don’t quite manage to turn into stutters in his voice, ones it’s unlikely anyone outside of their family would notice.

Bruce doesn’t comment on them, just nods for Damian to sit down and continue.

His legs don’t fully reach the floor. Something else that Bruce has learned not to let himself smile at.

“Grayson says…” he begins confidently, before trailing off.

Bruce just raises an eyebrow for him to continue, not feeling like he has enough information to put anything together from at the moment.

“Richard says,” Damian continues more carefully. “He came out to you as bisexual when he was around my age?”

Bruce nods. He has a feeling that he knows where this is going this time.

“He did.”

“He said that you were okay with it?”

Bruce nods again.

“Dick is my son. My love for him isn’t conditional, certainly not on that. There’s nothing wrong with not being straight.”

Damian had broached the topic using Dick as a proxy, so Bruce had followed his lead and assumed that Damian would know to automatically apply the assurance to himself. But Damian’s face just falls into a puzzled frown.

“So why…” he begins, before changing track. “Richard isn’t your biological son.”

Bruce frowns back.

“Damian, you know that doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t love your siblings any less because they’re not-”

“I know,” Damian cuts in. “It isn’t about loving us differently.” He says it very matter of factly. “I have the ability to carry on your bloodline, whereas they do not.”

“That ability isn’t an obligation,” Bruce says, wondering why his kids never seem to be able to just worry about normal things. “And it’s certainly not something that you need to be thinking about at thirteen years old.”

Damian nods slowly, staring down at the desk with a look of intense concentration, before slowly raising his gaze to Bruce.

“Mother and Grandfather said that you wouldn’t like it, if I wasn’t interested in girls,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. of-fucking-course they did. He gets up from his chair, and moves around the desk to kneel in front of Damian.

“Well they’re wrong,” he says simply. “And they had no right to lead you to believe that it would make any difference to me. Just like I don’t love your siblings any less, my love for you is no more conditional. Understand?”

It takes a moment, but Damian nods.

“All right. In which case, I suppose... I’m gay.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Bruce says, before pulling his son into a hug.

Bruce

Bruce looks at his assembled family, and begins to feel a strange sense of trepidation tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

They’re all here. Trying to get the whole family together all at once is like pulling teeth. But he told them it was important, and they all came. There have been plenty of points over the course of the years when that wouldn’t have happened. And even though they’ve all been pretty settled with each other for a while now, he never wants to take for granted having his whole family together- not that he thinks the part of him that only seems to settle when he has all of his children within arm’s reach would let him.

The comfort of having them all be together is overwhelming, but the trepidation is still there, just like it probably always will be any time he manages to round up the courage for anything resembling feelings talk.

They’re all in one of the living rooms, sprawled in a comfortable half circle across various couches and chairs.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all,” Bruce starts to say.

“Are you dying?” Stephanie asks casually.

Beside her, Cass freezes, looking horrified.

“I’m not dying,” Bruce says quickly.

At the same time Steph rubs a hand up and down Cass’s arm and assures her she was kidding.

“Not like he’d tell us if he was,” Dick says.

He knows it’s meant to be a joke, just like Stephanie’s question had been, but it still sends a chill through him. Mostly because he can’t say for sure that Dick is totally wrong; it’s the kind of thing he easily could have kept to himself. But then he sees the uncertain frown that Damian is giving him, and Cass’s wide, anxious eyes, and decides that he has to be wrong.

“I’m not dying,” he repeats, reaching out for Tim who’s sitting closest to him, and who’s been staring very intently at the floor since the topic came up.

Tim leans into the touch without shifting his position.

“And I would tell you,” he adds seriously, feeling absolutely wracked with guilt over the fact that up until this moment he doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to claim that with any certainty.

“I swear, if there’s anything wrong with me, all of you will know as soon as possible.” By the time it comes out of his mouth, he knows he means it with total certainty.

“I think we’re all pretty tuned into the fact that there’s something wrong with you,” Jason offers, and the tension in the room breaks.

Bruce smiles despite himself. That was agonizing. Compared to that getting on with the conversation he’d previously been so apprehensive to have will be a relief.

“What did you want to tell us?” Duke asks.

“It can be… difficult for me to articulate what it means to me whenever one of you trusts me enough to share something about yourself. I thought that I owed it to all of you to return the favor, and share a… recent discovery of mine.” He stumbles through it as awkwardly as he’d expected to.

“This is weird,” Stephanie stage whispers.

“I’m bisexual,” Bruce admits.

“Bruce!” Dick says excitedly.

“Unacceptable,” Jason cuts in. “We already have enough of that nonsense in this house!”

Tim kicks him in the side.

“Well, seeing as it’s an option, I for one prefer the idea of you pursuing romantic entanglements that bear no risk of resulting in pregnancy.”

“Noted, Damian.”

“I’m happy for you, B,” Tim says. “It can be hard figuring yourself out.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Is that it?” Duke asks. “I mean, not that it’s not a big deal- and I’m happy for you too by the way- it’s just that most of our family meetings involve addressing some kind of crisis.”

“That’s it,” Bruce admits.

“Perhaps- seeing as we’re all here anyways- we could take this opportunity to have dinner together as a family for once,” Alfred offers.

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Tim Drake)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part two of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist. 

You watch the rusty green of the warehouse wall disappear behind a spray of orange paint. There is nothing more satisfying than watching paint make old things new. 

A whistle interrupts your reverie, making the can slip from your hand. You swear, the harsh syllables echoing in the empty air. The can bounces down the scaffold and lands in someone’s hands. Tim’s face gets sprayed with a mist of orange. He makes a noise and rubs at his face. You bark out a laugh and he grimaces at you. The begrudging fondness obvious on his face. 

He waves at you, eyes still stinging from the paint. Giddiness flourishes in your chest. “I knew I’d find you here!” He shouts in a dialect of Mandarin that you hadn’t heard in ages.

It takes you a moment to understand him. You’re honestly extremely rusty. It takes you another moment to realize that it made no sense for him to find you. “How?” You shout back in Romanian. 

Tim shakes his head, throwing his hand over his shoulder. “Open canvas.”

You snort, looking down at him. Tim’s breath catches as he stares up at you, your smile. You’re haloed by sunlight. You look like an angel descending from heaven.

Tim’s forced to pick up his jaw when he hears your voice again. You’re tapping your watch. The words are lost to him.

“What?!”

You shake your head, strands of hair coming loose from behind your ear. “I asked...” You shout in a coarse frawl. “... Isn’t it a bit early for you to be here?”

It was. 

He was only 30 minutes early. No big deal. 

He shrugs. “I just wanted to watch you paint.” He says, trailing off. Oh God, Tim thinks. Does he sound lovesick? Is Cassie right? He pushes the thoughts down, opting to look at the building instead. On the side of the building was an immaculate portrait of the Red Hood rendered like a saint, haloed in golden light and surrounded by your orange marigolds. It would look at home in any grand cathedral. Your talents never ceased to amaze him.

“Should I ask why you’re defacing a building?”

You turn back to the building picking up a can of yellow paint. You tilt your head. “It’s a massive improvement, yes?”

Tim looks around. The pavement is littered with wet trash mixed. The buildings were rusted. Everything else is covered in grime. “You’re rude…  but not wrong.”

You preen, electing to ignore the first half. You turn back to your canvas before Tim can get another word in. He knows he’s lost you. 

“So, why *the* Red Hood?” 

You look away from the portrait, setting the can of yellow spray paint. It sprays your sweatshirt and Tim laughs. You stick your tongue out at his face flushing. You liked this sweatshirt. He gave it to you the last time you had meandered into Gotham. “Why not? We’re in the Bowery. He’s like a saint here.” You snip, switching to Russian. Ok, that made sense. You toss your sweatshirt into Tim’s face. The fabric is lousy with the smell of paint and of 5-hour energy drinks. It was an improvement over the pungent odor of garbage. 

He tries to rub the orange paint on his face away before he tucks your sweatshirt beneath his arm. You’re still looking down at him, wry amusement on your face. “I’ll paint your beloved Red Robin when I get to China Town. Heard he was quite popular in those parts.”

Tim’s heart flutters.  He stutters out his next question. “Why are you using spray paint for this type of illustration?”

“Kon said I couldn’t do it.”

Tim snickers, “As if Kon could tell the difference.”

You frown only realizing your mistake. You curse under your breath. Tim doesn’t stop laughing at you. “Shut up!” You snarl.

Tim dodges the next paint can you throw but the next one hits him square in the face. You grin triumphantly. Tim raises a middle finger at you and you giggle in response. You feel bad, seeing him wince in pain. You’d buy him apology tea later but for now, you clasp your hands and call out to him sweetly. “Sorry, Timmers!”

Tim, equally as mature and well aware that you’re only half sorry, blows out a breath, muttering something colorful before shouting back: “we should get going if we wanna eat out after looting the museum.”

At that, you launch yourself off the scaffolding, your body feeling weightless as it falls. Tim drops your sweatshirt as he holds his arms out to catch you. He catches you easily. You two spin as you wrap your arms around him. 

“You are certifiably insane.” He laughs. His nose smooshed against yours. 

“And so are you.” You snort, hugging him. 

He hugs you back. You hum so softly into his hair that Tim wouldn’t be able to tell it from a breath if he were human.  Tim holds you close, hugging your waist tightly. He doesn’t really want to let you go. You don’t either.  You and Tim stand there for a bit when you hear his cell beep. 

“Why does your phone sound like a pager?” 

“Because Babs told me how to.”

“That literally explains nothing.”

“I’m not taking crap from the gremlin who had ‘Baby Shark’ as their ringtone for 12 months. WILLINGLY.”

You pout at him, your face so close to his. Tim’s only half paying attention to your defense. To be fair, it basically boiled down to ‘it isn’t that bad’ and ‘Bart’s ringtone is worse’. 

After a short shopping trip and a cab ride later, you arrive at the museum in fresh clothes and less paint on his face for Tim. 

“All the World’s a Stage. They botched it! The nerve! The barbarity of it all. It's just like when they botched ‘Words with Friends’ or ‘In Ice We Trust’ or even ‘Tomcat’. That last one was pretty much gift wrapped for them!” You say throwing up your hands nearly hitting Tim and whatever poor bastard was unlucky enough to be behind you. 

“For someone who isn't invested in modern media, you're getting fired up.” Tim chuckles, eyes flickering behind you. You had managed to miss the people behind you but you do have a rather conspicuous space behind you. 

“They had such good material to work with”  you say, gesticulating wildly. “And- and they butchered it.”

“You need a 5 minute breather?” Tim asks, resting a hand on your back. 

 “Shut up,” you laugh.

Tim grins at you as if he had no idea what this ultimate betrayal feels like. 

Determined to prove him wrong, you say : “C'mon, Timothy,  you ranted like this when they botched the star thingy.”

“It’s Star Wars, you heathen.”

“Star. Thingy.” You repeat, crossing your arms. 

Tim squints at you. You know he’s not gonna blow up at you but somehow that’s scarier. 

“You can pay for your own cab later.” He grumbles. 

“Star. Thing-Y.” 

Tim turns to leave. This always worked. Always without fail, you grab at his hand, lacing your fingers with his. Tim tries not to smile.

“Fine.”

“Was that so hard?”

“It was excruciating actually.”

“You're being dramatic.” He says, showing the woman behind the ticket counter your passes. 

“Excuse me, I left all my drama in the Renaissance.”

“Oh really?”

“Ok not really but admit that both Andromeda and Stars, Forgive Me have better writing.“ You bite out.

 “I- That’s unfair,” he says. You raise your brow in response. 

“...”

“Fine,” he sighs. “But admit that Andromeda should have been named ‘Space Whores’.”

You squint at him then smile. “Oh abso-posi-tute-ly.”

 “Have you seen this dirty old hockey mask?” You ask, tapping the glass as if the hockey mask would react if you just agitate it enough. 

 “What is that?” Tim asks, looking over your shoulder. His brows crinkles when he sees the mask. “How is that romantic?”

You hum. “Ask the curator?” You suggest, looking around. He was usually out and about. He could never sit still even if he tried. You lean down narrowing your eyes at the plaque. “Says here some dude called Jason terrorized 3 kids over summer.”

“That’s very romantic for our Jay to do.” Tim says, crossing his arms and switching to Cantonese. It was a weird habit but you knew why. Apparently for all Jason’s skill in languages he somehow could not get a handle on Cantonese. 

 “Not that Jason.” You say, smirking. 

“You sure?” Tim asks, leaning closer to you. 

You snicker,  “As in character as that would be...”

“True,” he says, edging closer and closer to you. You rock on your heels nervously at the proximity. “It’s a shame, I thought there would be a machete to match too…” You can feel Tim’s breath on your cheek. 

“OH LOOK AT THIS.” You say twisting away and pointing to a black and white photo. Tim’s hands leave his sides to grab for you, to pin you to his chest, but he has enough self control not to. Instead, he follows you.

“It’s just a man and a woman in business suits. Yanno something you can see in any metropolitan city.”

“Yes but,” you say, tracing a nonsensical pattern into the air, “I’ve heard a story about this, they were both extremely rich and heads of their companies, went from enemies to lovers - my all time favourite.” 

Tim looks closer at the photo of the man and woman with their backs to the camera just holding hands along the NYC sidewalk. It’s cute. “I thought your favorite was lovers to enemies.”

“Well of course, it is! The drama, the absolute tragedy. It’s better than any trope in existence. But I love that this is just black and white. You don’t need anything else to indicate they’re in love with each other.”

Tim is all too tempted to point out that that likely wasn’t intentional, that it was a limitation of the time, but the look in your eyes robbed him of his breath, so he swallowed his thoughts. 

Your eyes rove over the room frantically in search of something. 

“So is there any reason you wanted to go to this exhibit instead of watching lavalantula 10 in theaters?” Tim says, tapping another case. 

You turn to look at him, shock etched into your features.“10? We've seen lavalantula 1 through 9 in theaters? Why did I agree to that?”

“Cus you love me?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Probably not.”

Tim gives you a hurt look. 

You scowl at him. You have no idea why everyone thinks he’s the nice Wayne sibling. He is a manipulative little shit who plays you like a fiddle. And yet here you are falling for it. An absolute buffoon. 

You grumble an apology under your breath before continuing. “This is more cultural Timmers and lord knows we need more culture.” You wave sarcastically. 

“I think we've lived enough culture.”

“it cannot hurt to experience more Tim,” you snort. He rolls his eyes. You grab onto his arm and look up at him bright eyed. Two can play it at that game. “Please Tim....”

He scowls at you. “Fine-”

“Yes!”

“-but you owe me a movie marathon.”

“Fine. Fine,” you nod, “just don’t pick something dumb.”

“I just got the new star trek box collection.” He beams. 

“You could just shove me into a grave.” You sigh dramatically. 

Tim grins. “The Renaissance called-”

“Oh fuck you, Grackle.”

He snorts and you hate that you fall in love with him more every time he laughs. 

You cross your arms giving him a hard look. “Fine but we have to have an intermission of my choice.” You say, offering a hand. 

“Deal.” He says, shaking your outstretched hand. 

“Great, you've just agreed to watch the Great British Baking Show with me.” You say smug. 

Tim curses himself. 

"Are you still looking for that one painting?"

You tip your body back to look at him, your eyes wide and startled. It takes no time at all for them to shift to their usual angry shape. "Yes," you say quietly. It's Tim’s turn to be startled. Your hands curl into a fist. "It wasn't done and those bastards took it." 

Tim reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder. 

You cast your hands up to the sky dramatically.  "The barbarity of it all!"

Tim smiles, letting his hand fall to his side. You would be ok. 

You two walk on as Tim rants about StarGate  could have had a bigger fanbase if it hadn’t excluded so many people. You add StarGate to the list of things to not remember. 

You stop.

Your heart presses a bruise in your throat. 

Framed in  wood laden in ivy and marigolds is a painting that was painfully familiar.  Even unwashed, you can still see the bright reds of rose petals, the wild greens of the women’s skirts, the brilliant oranges of marigolds, and the blinding whites of cobble stones. The image was a practice in entropy made into perfection. The chaos of Valentine's day in a small town square reduced and captured in an infinitesimal moment.

Damian told you that people had started calling them Warsaw’s Faceless Sweethearts. You hated that.  A part of you wants to scream. You want to tell them that this wasn’t for them. This painting was made for one person and one person only.

You’ve been staring at it too long. Tim looks at you. You’ve known him too long to not know that he’s worried. That he’s feeling that stupid surge of protectiveness he always does when you go quiet. It’s in the cautious way he reaches out to you, slow and steady the way you approach a spooked animal. You want to lash out at him but he’s your Tim. Besides, too much of your mind is trapped in the painting, in the white gazebo, in between the couple who’s stuck in the moment before a kiss. 

Tim stands closer to you, his fingers lacing into yours with centuries worth or practice. He looks at the painting. “This painting looks familiar.” Tim says for the lack of anything better to say. It was yours. He knew that with only a few seconds of looking. 

“I… I don’t think so,” you say clumsily, “that’s definitely not the painting I’ve been looking for. Yup that one looks completely finished. Yup definitely.” You tug at Tim’s arm. 

He gives you a look, staying perfectly in place, before turning back to the painting. His gaze draws low. In a glass case sits scraps of paper lined with charcoal.  It takes an embarrassingly long time for Tim to realize that they’re sketches the artist did. Tim recognized the baker, the blacksmith, the seamstress, and even the constable. Most glaring of all he recognizes your marigolds.  His eyes drift to the sketches of the couple in  the gazebo. They were numerous, haphazard and unsatisfied. You were clearly frustrated with the groom’s face. Tim wonders who the poor guy could be. 

In the corner of the page in the center, he sees it.  “Wait… is that me?”

“NO!”

“Is that you?” He asks, pointing to the figure next to his. In the sketch, your lips are brushing against his. Tim’s lip tingles trying to replicate the sensation. 

You’re frozen stiff. You try to pull your hand away. You want to bury your face in them. Scratch that, you wanna be buried six feet under. Tim doesn’t let go of your hand. 

“That’s the umbrella you lost back in London.”

“I lost a lot in London, Timmy.” 

“Well...” Ok. Yeah, you did. Hence why he can’t get you to London even with the promise of letting you ‘improve’ Buckingham palace. But that isn’t the point. “(Y/n), this is gorgeous.” He says, turning to you. You look at him stunned and scared. He squeezes your hand.

You shake yourself out of his grip. Tim lets you. He knows when to back down. 

You step forward leaning on the rope separating you from your work. “I told you it wasn't finished.” You say, glaring at the painting as if willing the colors to move. 

“What happened?” He asks, bumping his shoulder against yours.

You bump your shoulder against his. “Warsaw.”

“I don’t follow.”

“That little town in Warsaw. It was kind of hard to finish the painting when soldiers were setting fires to houses. Ok, they didn’t do it directly but there was smoke.”

“Yeah kind of.” Tim agrees, smiling sadly. He looks back at the painting. “I want to keep it.”

“What?” You blink not quite following the shift in conversation. 

“Darling, I think we should have it. It’s ours after all.” Tim says holding your hand in his. Your mind is bouncing between too many things. He called you darling. He’s holding your hand. He’s smiling so sweetly at you. You’re addicted to that look in his eyes, pure unadulterated adoration. 

You cover your face with your free hand, feeling the smile on your face go uncomfortable wide. You feel something on your forehead, a kiss like a raindrop. It comes again and you feel like you’re going to collapse. 

“It’s yours..” He trails off hesitantly. “..if..” You look up at Tim, waiting with bated breath. Tim squeezes your hands. “...if you’ll be mine. ”

@batarella​, @anothertimdrakestan​, @lucy-roo​, @multifandomgirl-us​, @bungunz​, @birdy-bat-writes​,  @boosyboo9206​, @americasmarauders​ , @l-inkage​, @arestorationofbalance​ , @cloudie-skay​, @wunderstell​   @hyp-oh-critical​ @glorified-red​

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 11

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Person: Lol there’s immortals and they’ve come back to life multiple times, why is anyone surprised magic exists Me, who hasn’t read the comics in years and has forgotten everything: not canon anymore. I’ve decided

~~~

She looked around at the soft browns and reds of the café. The scenery was pleasant, but it had very little overlap with any styles she wanted for any of her customers.

This vague looking around quickly morphed into staring blankly at her sketchbook for almost an hour straight.

Marinette groaned and rested her head on the table, closing her eyes.

“Need more coffee already?” Came Tim’s voice.

She gave a tiny shake of her head. “Need new scenery,” she murmured into her arms.

Somehow, though, Tim heard her. The sound of his fingers on the keyboard stopped for a moment in surprise, and the café almost sounded incomplete without it.

He reached over and ruffled her hair. “Has anyone given you a tour of the city yet?”

“Nope,” she said. She’d gotten a pretty good look at the place on patrols, but he couldn’t know that.

There was a shifting sound and she looked up to find Tim taking out his phone. “What’re you...?”

He put the phone to his ear and tipped his head back as it rang. Eventually, he said: “Hey, I’m going to take the day off.”

There was a long silence from the other line. She winced as the person on the other sound screamed, she hadn’t wanted Tim to get scolded for missing --

“Yes, I’m fine. No, it’s not a prank. I’ve met someone -- not like that, Jay -- and I’m giving her a tour of the city. She just got here from France a while ago.”

The bit of chatter was cut off abruptly by a smashing sound from the phone. Tim didn’t seem all that concerned about it, though, so Marinette just listened in anxiously.

The man’s eyebrows knit together. “Yes, I met her at the coffee shop, Dick. What does it matter?” Then he blinked. His eyes found their way to her for a second and then he gave a short laugh. “You’re insane. Can I have time off or not?”

The chorus of ‘Yes!’ Please!’’s was so loud that Marinette heard it from across the table.

Tim grinned and set his phone down. “Guess who has a free day now.”

Marinette tapped her finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Who knows.” She stood slowly and glanced at their coffees.

He rolled his eyes and got them each another cup. With that, they were off.

“So, I guess I should ask what colors or ideas you have going.”

She sighed. “I’m thinking of green for Adrien. Yellow, black, and white for the Bourgeois-es. And for Jagged...” She waved her hands vaguely as she tried to think of how to translate the word. “A lot-ness.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Flashiness?”

“Sure.”

He closed his eyes and thought for a minute, then nodded to himself. “Right, I have an idea for Adrien’s.” His face reddened slightly. “I probably should have asked if you were willing to come, first, huh?”

Her head tipped to the side as she considered this. She really had only talked to the man a few times, could she really trust him? He’d gotten her coffee a few times without spiking it, which was a plus. He was also very obviously rich, which meant robbing her wouldn’t do much for him.

Her mind wandered back to how he’d dodged a punch the other day, though. His reaction time had been as quick as, if not faster, than hers. He was pretty well built, too. He had to know some kind of self-defense.

Still, he’d taken a day off of work for her. From the sound of the people on the other end of the line, this wasn’t a common occurrence. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and nodded.

He smiled and reached out to ruffle her hair.

Then, they were off.

Within a few blocks was the gardens dedicated to Poison Ivy. They stepped inside and Marinette went to her bag to pay on instinct, but Tim walked straight past the ticket counter and waved her along.

She frowned confusedly. “Don’t we need to pay...?”

“Nope, c’mon,” he chirped.

She glanced at the salesperson, who was a teen boy. He’d barely been awake when they walked in, but now he was wide awake. They had gone bolt upright at the sound of Tim’s voice, and were now stealing glances at the pair of them anxiously.

She slowly stepped towards Tim. Just who was this guy?

These nerves dissipated the moment she stepped into the atrium. She’d seen it from above a few times, but that was nothing compared to the way it was to be within it. Her eyes filcked from flower to flower as a wide smile stretched across her face.

She went to the nearest bench and started sketching for Adrien. Clothing for guys is always easier, they’re always expected to be in a suit, it’s just what you do on the suit that matters.

Tim was leaning in the doorway, absently scrolling through messages. His face was getting more and more tired by the second, but that wasn’t particularly weird for him so Marinette didn’t bother to question it.

Besides, if she didn’t get her ideas down on paper soon, she’d probably forget them.

She finished and kept walking through the rooms, smiling to herself. She’d gotten an idea for Jagged and Penny’s outfits in a room with bioluminescents. Then, after seeing an almost golden flower, had been able to get some inspiration for both Audrey and Chloe’s.

She beamed at all the designs. She was sure to change them over the four months, but it was good that she had general ideas for what she wanted to have them look like early on.

Finally, she looked at Tim. He’d been following her through the rooms at a casual pace, his face stuck in his phone.

She rolled her eyes and pulled the phone down, snapping him from his haze.

“This is your day off, remember? Stop working.”

He sighed. “This is my personal phone. My family is just being stupid.”

She gave him a skeptical look and he finally let go, letting Marinette check for herself.

Her eyes scanned over the messages without really paying attention to what the words meant and she nodded slowly. The tone was far too casual for anything for work.

She had started to hand back the phone when she finally processed some of the words she’d seen.

“’Bring her to dinner’?” She questioned, whipping the phone back around to scroll through them more thoroughly.

He gave little more than a weak shrug. “They think that you’re some kind of miracle since you got me out of work and want you to meet everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“In my family. There’s a lot of them. Don’t worry, you’re booked for at least the next twenty years from what I’ve told them.”

She raised an eyebrow and continued looking through it. “They’re good people?”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want you to -- hey!”

She had started typing. They sprinted in circles around the tiny atrium, Marinette still struggling to type with all the movement and Tim trying his hardest to catch her off-guard so he could get his phone back.

She hit send. The moment he heard the text tone, he stopped cold. He groaned. “Noooooooo.”

Marinette grinned. “I’ll see you at dinner in two days.”

“Nooooooo.”

“Yeeeees.”

Tim glared at her for a few seconds and swiped back his phone to check that the text she had sent had said that. He pouted a bit when it was, then whipped his head around to look at her, a dangerous look in his eyes: “I’m not paying for your coffee anymore.”

“Nooooooo!”

~~~

Taglist~

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit

[horrors-at-night]

Horrors AU smut - Masky with Others

Requested by @anonymousstinkkat001

In general, Masky doesn't initiate sex with the other Proxies. He knows that one of them will come to him if they want it and he won't have to go long without sex.

Hoodie:

Despite his 'relationship' with Skully, Hoodie can and does come to Masky for sex

Masky is Hoodie's second in command; they both quietly consider it part of the job of leading the Proxies

Sex with Hoodie is forceful and occasionally one sided. It's not nearly as rough as what Toby demands though

The two know each other so well that even with the masks on, Hoodie can just look at Masky, and Masky will get on his knees or undress

Masky enjoys being submissive for Hoodie more than the others, as he trusts Hoodie more, despite their regular disagreements. They both know their limits and that they won't be crossed

Hoodie will occasionally put a proxy 'on probation' as punishment, meaning none of the others can have sex with them. This is the only time Masky gets antsy and pent up. Hoodie will intentionally make this worse for Masky by tying him up, teasing him senseless, not letting him finish and extending his probation if he finds out Masky masturbated. Masky finds this both frustrating and ridiculously hot.

Skully (Proxy!Jay):

Masky has never had sex with Skully. Hoodie claimed Skully early on, and all he's seen of the other are glimpses

Of course, before they were proxies, they'd known each other. Some things are a universal constant. Tim and Jay finding each other is one of them.

Masky has a small but painful crush on Skully. It surges up when they work together, and the lingering residue of their former life together rises from the ashes that used to be memories.

But he'll never touch Skully. Hoodie has claimed Skully and he respects that

He's never masturbated to the thought of Skully either.

Still... He has dreams sometimes.

Beastie (Proxy!Alex):

Hatesex and angry sex

Neither of them remember the reason for the tension between them anymore, but stick them alone in a room together, and they'll either get into a fight, or they'll fuck, or both

Sex between them is a battle. They will punch, and headbutt and draw blood in an attempt to dominate the other

Masky is the strongest non-Horror proxy but Beastie is quicker and bites, like his name implies

Neither will ever admit to enjoying submitting to the other though they both have

Sometimes neither will be penetrated and they'll both just grind against each other, snarling and cursing and moaning until they cum

When they finish, they'll lay together until they catch their breath, then walk away and never talk of it

At least once, though, after a particularly brutal fight that Beastie won, he dragged Masky to his room and refused to let him out for almost a week. Masky was quiet for a while after that

Kate:

It’s happened a few times

Thing is, Kate is more into Beastie. There are loose pair-ups between the proxies, and Kate and Beastie are the second

The few times they’ve had sex, it’s pure tension relief. And good tension relief, too

Beastie doesn’t really care if Kate and Masky fuck, due to the fact they’re all a collective polyamorous mess

You’d think a threesome would’ve happened by now but things are so... intense... between Masky and Beastie that Kate tends to just stay on the sidelines and watches when the sparks fly between them

I mean that literally: if she’s around she’ll watch them fuck just for the entertainment value

Toby:

Oh, Lord

If you are unfamiliar with this AU, Toby here is written closer, but not identical, to how he was originally supposed to be. Which means he’s a terrible fucking person

Toby is... a bit obsessed with Masky. He feels he owns the older man, and the other proxies, if they fuck him, are borrowing him. 

Masky... Honestly doesn’t like Toby very much. Toby is wild, out of control, and does what he wants especially if it might hurt someone. And Masky likes to think he has morals despite the extremely questionable role of being a proxy.

But he just doesn’t have the energy to tell the guy no, even if Toby listened

Toby fucks Masky more than anyone else in the manor, and knows his body better than any of the others.

He also has no sense of privacy. While the others are neutral towards fucking in the public areas and will generally move somewhere else, Toby will fuck Masky wherever he finds the guy, whether it’s the kitchen, the library, the back porch, anywhere

Toby also has a collection of sex toys and bondage gear that never leaves his bedroom, because he thinks the other proxies might steal them. [He’s right.]

Thing is, while Toby is normally dominant, sometimes, Masky will snap

When that happens, Masky becomes aggressive and pushy, physically pinning Toby down and doing to Toby everything Toby’s been doing to him

And Toby enjoys it, even though he finds it overwhelming to be the one on bottom for once

It doesn’t happen often, and neither discuss it once its over, but the marks Masky leaves on Toby, and Masky’s mixed sense of satisfaction and guilt, stay a lot longer than they’d admit

Bonus, not proxy stuff:

As mentioned in another post, Masky has a not so secret longing for one of the Horrors [for the newcomers: enemies to the proxies]. He has no intentions of acting on his feelings, as he knows they’re unreturned, and the Horror in question is particularly loyal to their partners. This crush frustrates Hoodie, who thinks Masky will feel better if he takes action on it, and infuriates Toby, who wants Masky’s affections all to himself.

There is a particular demon out there who would do anything to get his hands on Masky. Masky has no idea, and won’t, until it’s well too late to save himself.

[cardentist]

I’ve seen people joking about how fucked up it is that jay leaked tim’s medical records for a while now, and it Is very funny, but I’ve also seen it presented as genuine criticism of him as a character. which aren’t Wrong necessarily, I’m not about to start excusing doxing people, but they never really examine it within the wider context of the situation. which not every post Has to do, it’s valuable to say “that was fucked up” and leave it at that, especially when talking about how that would’ve impacted tim specifically. but it gets problematic when it comes to meta making a value judgement for him as a person.

the short of it is, people Severely underestimate the effects of both the operator sickness and the mental toll of his experiences in general on jay’s mental health and how they influence his actions. yes it Was a shitty thing for jay to do, and his mental health being Not Great doesn’t change that his actions have consequences that affect other people, but some people look at it like it says something about jay’s morality and not his severe paranoia.

this is relevant because people don’t talk about the more visibly mentally ill and traumatized characters the same way. for instance, I’ve never seen anyone call out brian for being the one to dig up tim’s medical records in the first place, likely by stealing them from his house, and deliberately send them to jay in the most cryptic and disorienting way possible. which on the one hand I Get it, I don’t think we’ll be seeing a callout post for alex’s property damage any time soon, but it’s not only hypocritical (especially in this case when brian was Absolutely enabling and pushing jay to do exactly what he did) but it points to a larger problem of symptoms of jay’s mental health going unnoticed As symptoms because his poor mental health is less obvious.

jay’s perspective gets lost in hindsight (everyone loves tim and they Should), but to be frank he had every right to be suspicious of tim at that point in time. I go over more or less his entire twitter here (Link) for anyone unfamiliar, but I wanna put this in perspective

at this point jay has spent Years looking for someone who actively tried (and possibly succeeded) to murder his friends, who then held him at gunpoint after he tricked him into thinking he was on his side for months on end. jay didn’t suspect or Remember anything alex had done to him or around him or to anyone he knew before he started looking through the tapes. he’s been in a continuous life or death situation, both with a monster and with a person that he thought he could trust.

moreover, his relationship with totheark has always been uncertain. while totheark very clearly hates alex they’ve also been openly antagonistic with him for reasons he doesn’t have the context to understand. tim as masky has broken into his house, charged at him at mach speed, and featured in Several vaguely threatening videos directed at him. the most Prominent being entry ####, which had totheark threatening him overly and directly proceeded his apartment burning down. he’d have no reason to know or assume that it was alex when it happened and alex wouldn’t commit More arson until he was already dead. it would be stranger if jay Didn’t think that totheark burned his apartment down.

and the stalking, the literal constant stalking. in hindsight we as the audience know the mask boys were doing it to protect him, but it didn’t help his paranoia a single iota. jay’s first interaction with masky was him gargoyling in his house watching him sleep. jay hotel hopped because no matter where he was he didn’t feel safe, and he was proven Correct time and time again. when he’d spend too long in a hotel he’d wake up with his previously locked door wide open. after he’d slept. and when he sleeps in his car hoodie literally films him and posts it. and when he watches the tapes? hoodie and masky are always there following him when he’s with alex, and alex is more than capable of finding his hotel and room number to send him a package directly.

jay doesn’t feel safe at any point or with anyone. we See how paranoid he is around total strangers who just happen to be walking in the woods so of Course he’s going to be uncomfortable around tim after his experiences with masky. tim was right to be mad about the stalking and the lying, but that doesn’t change the fact that jay did what he had to for his own protection. he doesn’t know what tim’s mask state is or how much he does or doesn’t know, what he’s lying about and what he wants. alex spent months lying to him, had spent years lying to everyone around him. once that level of trust is broken it’s hard to go back, and in this case he genuinely had reasons to believe that tim could be dangerous.

and that’s just it, a lot of his earlier awkwardness and unfairness around tim is, yes, in part issues with empathy (jay reads as autistic harder than some canonical autistic characters I’ve seen). but it’s Also a traumatized person being filled with supernaturally charged paranoia trying to figure out if he’s Safe, if he’s being Lied to, if he’s about to be Hurt. it’s unfair in hindsight, but jay didn’t Have hindsight at the moment. (for instance, jay pointing out that tim was uncomfortable in the hospital despite not remembering what happened there. it is insensitive but it’s also pretty clearly jay trying to figure out if tim is lying about what he knows. he doesn’t know about tim’s childhood trauma at this point so it brings up the possibility of tim remembering what happened that night on tape.)

moreover, this is coming After jay lost 7 months of his life to traumatic memory loss, including the fact that he was almost Murdered. anything that wasn’t caught on tape is gone forever. most of his time on the set of marble hornets is gone forever (he didn’t even remember that alex’s mood had changed). and people have been breaking in to his stuff since the beginning. he can’t trust his own senses and he can’t trust that anything he tapes and doesn’t post won’t be stolen or broken or burned.

so when totheark leads him on a chase to find Secret Documents after making it clear that tim really has been lying to him after all he takes it, he films it, and he posts it. so he can keep himself safe, so he can trust that he won’t forget it, so he can move one step closer to saving someone whose death he feels responsible for.

it was not fair to tim, it wasn’t the Reasonable thing to do, but it was probably the Smart thing for someone in his position to do and it was certainly what he had to do to feel safe.

people Really need to contextualize the things that jay does in the context of his situation, his paranoia, and his mental illness. those things don’t Excuse his actions but they explain them and you really can’t understand his character without it

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Feels More Like a Memory

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Ric gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.”

“Wally. With a W.”

“That’s a tragedy.”

“And Ric isn’t?”

It’s not easy being a ghost. Ric isn’t dead. He has flesh, breath, motion, all signs of life. But Him? The person he apparently used to be but who might as well be a stranger told in someone else’s story? That person is dead, and Ric can’t help but feel like a murderer for pushing him out. He isn’t Dick Grayson. Not anymore. Ric slides into a bar stool, flagging down the bartender. “I’ll have a beer.” This place isn’t his favorite haunt in Blüdhaven, but they do serve good brews despite the lack of customers and general grossness. And, frankly, he’s not in the mood for company tonight. He’s been fielding calls all day from those people, the ones who knew him Before. The ones who foolishly call every few days as if expecting the ghost to answer in Ric’s place. Bruce. Barbara. Damian. Even some names that Ric doesn’t recognize but couldn’t care less about if he did. A Donna Troy. Jason Todd, even though Dick saw in some old files that he’s supposed to be long dead. Some kid named Tim. Ric doesn’t even pick up anymore when the calls come. It’s too exhausting playing defense, trying to remind these poor idiots that the Dick they knew is dead. Ric can’t keep pretending to have any part of himself that cares about these strangers, that keeps him straddling the line between past and future, or it will tear him in half. He’s had enough of the visits from “old friends” and family members he wouldn’t recognize from a Christmas card.

It’s a weeknight, so the bar is empty but for a few alcoholics and some guys playing pool in the back. Ric might even join them later, hustle a few rounds. The door to the bar opens, a dulled bell sounding to announce the newcomer. Ric doesn’t bother looking up. It’s not like he’ll recognize the new face—or any face, for that matter. The bartender brings over his beer. Ric thanks her and takes a sip. The stool next to him creaks. “I’ll have a Coke with three maraschino cherries, please. Thanks.” It’s a deep voice with a bit of a midwestern twang. From Missouri, maybe? The “please” is a clear indicator that he’s not from around here, nor does he go to bars a lot. Not this kind, anyway. Ric has tried and failed to turn that part off, the part that picks apart every detail in the world into quantifiable data. His memories may be gone, but whatever that crazy bat guy trained into him has stayed in his head as muscle memory. Ric couldn’t escape it if he tried. He drinks his beer, side-eyeing the guy. “Never met anyone who goes to a bar for a soda.” The guy doesn’t...he doesn’t flinch, exactly. But there’s the slightest of shivers that runs through his frame as if hearing Ric’s voice does something to him, even though he’s the one who sat next to Ric in the first place despite the plenty of empty stools around them. Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s just a weirdo. Whatever this guy is, he recovers quickly. “You can’t exactly get a Coke with three cherries from your neighborhood grocer.” “You can if you make it at home.” The guy’s mouth quirks. “Then I’m here for the wonderful atmosphere.” Now that Dick is facing him, he can see that the guy has bright red hair that curls in front of his forehead, wind-blown like he spends his life riding on top of a bullet train. His eyes are green and practically every inch of visible skin is sprinkled with freckles. “If you’re looking for atmosphere, you’re sure as hell not going to find it here,” Ric says. “This place is the pits.” “Then how come you’re here?” Ric shrugs. “For the moldy buffalo wings and terrible service, of course.” The guy laughs and, for whatever reason, Ric gets the impression that it’s the first real laugh he’s had in a long time. The bartender serves up his soda, cherries and all. “I’ve got to be honest, Blüdhaven is even worse than I remember it. Ever since that bat guy disappeared, it’s like all I hear about Blüd now is how much the crime has escalated.” “Nightwing,” Ric corrects before he can stop himself. “His name was Nightwing.” “Right, Nightwing. What do you think happened to him?” He got shot in the head. Not that Ric can tell that to a complete stranger. Then again, he’s been meeting far too many “complete strangers” lately who turn out to be anything but. They try to worm their way into Ric’s life as if they know him, as if they have some kind of a claim on him. “Have we met before?” he asks. He tries to do it casually to cushion the blow of completely changing the subject, but it’s hard to remember what casual even is anymore. “You seem...familiar.” The guy plasters on a smile. “Just have one of those faces, I guess.” “Says every person who’s ever pretended not to know someone.” That gets another laugh. Maybe he’s just a happy guy? Definitely not from around here, then. “I’m from Central City, actually. Just here for the weekend. I was trying to track down an old friend.” “And did you find him?” The guy’s eyes dim, but he keeps up some of the smile, like he’s mourning a memory. “Nope. He skipped town pretty recently and has been missing since.” “Sorry to hear that.” The guy drinks his soda. “How about you? What keeps you in a place like Blüdhaven?” “Believe it or not, this is the only place I’ve been in so far that’s felt like home.” He’s already buzzing from the beer combined with the whiskey this morning and the vape he bummed off a couple guys earlier. Might as well go all in. “I got shot in the head a while ago and since then, I’ve been a clean slate.” He points to the scar on his scalp, but he doesn’t have to. A goddamn aircraft could see that thing from orbit. “It’s hard to figure out ‘home’ again when every place you go is filled with too many people who know and care about you, you know?” “You and I have very different definitions of ‘home’ then. The way I see it, home is wherever the people who love you are.” “You’d be surprised. It’s more like leeches, really. Or a landlord begging for rent even after you’ve moved out. It’s fucking exhausting.” He gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.” “Wally. With a W.” “That’s a tragedy.” “And Ric isn’t?” That makes Ric laugh. The weird part is that, at the heart of whatever this is, there’s something natural about laughing with this random person. Wally. It feels familiar, like this is someone important, as insane as that sounds. He blames it on the alcohol, but he could almost convince himself that this Wally guy is something vital he’s been missing. But Ric has seen the files Batman showed him while he was futilely trying to jog Ric’s memory. There was nothing about anyone named Wally in there, so he’s in the clear. “So,” Wally says, “amnesia, huh? And I thought I had problems.” “You have no idea. Weirdly enough, the amnesia part isn’t even the worst of it. I can deal with having no memories. The real problem is everyone else’s memories trying to force their way into mine. Everybody remembers me as somebody else, but they can’t understand that the man they knew is long gone. It’s pathetic.” “Can you blame them? If someone I loved forgot who he was, I’d want to bring him back too.” “Then you’ve never had to deal with lost memories before. Everyone talks about how amnesia can be a blessing in disguise, giving you a reset on life. But it’s more like being dropped in the middle of a sports game where you don’t know the rules or who your teammates are, and everyone’s waiting for you to just get with the program and kick the ball somewhere.” Wally bites a cherry off its stem. “What I wouldn’t give for that.” At Ric’s questioning look, he says, “I have two kids. Twins, Jai and Irey. They’re...they were incredible. They were the lights of my life. Then there was...something happened. I lost them both, and now all I have left of them are memories. But I swear to god, sometimes it feels like having the memories hurts a million times worse than losing them in the first place.” Well, shit. By the looks of him, Wally can’t be more than twenty-four, twenty-six years old. Losing two kids so young must be hell on earth. That Damian kid said stuff about how Dick was like a second father figure to him and how when Damian was dead, the greatest relief after coming back was that Dick wouldn’t have to mourn him anymore. But Ric doesn’t remember any of that. If he ever did lose Damian like he said, it means nothing to Ric now. Dick may have lost a child, but Ric didn’t. Wally swallows thickly, drinks his soda until his throat clears. “So trust me, I get wanting to forget. But if you want my advice, I say hold on to your family for as long as you can, even if you don’t want to. You never know how much time you’ll have with them.” Ric honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. “I’m...I’m sorry, man.” Wally clears his throat, forces a smile, but each one is dimmer than the last. “It’s fine. But you see why I don’t drink.” He doesn’t elaborate, but Ric gets the message: Because if I did start drinking, I would never stop. “I can’t even imagine losing someone like that,” Ric says, sipping his fresh glass of beer. “I know my parents are dead, but my memories are so messed up that I don’t remember much of it. And even though I can’t remember anything after that day, it still feels like it happened twenty years ago. I’ve never had to grieve anyone but myself.” “It helps to have people around you, for one thing. That friend I mentioned, the one who skipped town? We used to have a system that whenever one of us was having a bad day, we’d go down to that gay bar a few blocks from here and stay there until we forgot what we were upset about.” After a second, he asks, “You ever been there?” Ric resists the urge to grimace. “I’m straight, actually. That kind of stuff...it’s not really my thing.” Wally blinks at him. “You’re kidding.” “Excuse me?” “Nothing. That’s just...surprising.” “Okay?” This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s accused Ric of being queer. Just because he likes mesh shirts and the occasional crop top doesn’t mean he’s gay, okay? He’s as straight as an arrow. “No, that’s not—I mean...I don’t know what I mean.” Wally shakes his head. “It’s easy to forget that not everyone lives the same life you do, I guess.” Ric clinks his glass with Wally’s. “Cheers to that.” Ric can’t explain what about this conversation makes him feel more comfortable than he has in weeks. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the human interaction with someone who isn’t another bar-hopping asshole or part of his old “family” trying to bring him back to a home that isn’t his. Ric has spent so long driving strangers to their destinations in his taxi, sleeping under a new roof every night, gambling his money away and drinking himself into oblivion as long as he can afford it. But here, with Wally, he feels settled. His head clears, and it’s such a foreign sensation that he stops for a moment just to let himself soak in it. “How long are you staying in Blüd, Walls?” He doesn’t mean to say the nickname, it just slips out of him like a bar of soap between slick hands. Wally doesn’t seem to mind. He even smiles, and Ric can’t help but wonder if the friend he was talking about used to call him that. “This is my last night, actually. I’m going to this mental health facility in Nebraska for a while to recharge. I just wanted to see my friend one last time before I left.” “I’m sorry you couldn’t find him.” “Yeah. Me too.” Wally downs the rest of his drink and stands, tossing a few bills on the counter. “I should probably head out. It was nice talking to you, Ric.” Ric shakes his hand again. “You too. Track me down if you ever find yourself in Blüd again. It’ll be nice seeing a familiar face for once.” “You got it.” Wally turns to go but stops at the door, one hand mid-twist on the knob. He looks back at Ric. “Don’t forget me again, okay?” He’s gone before Ric can answer, the door closing behind him. Ric was lying before, when he talked about the worst part of being an amnesiac. The worst part isn’t the missing twenty years, or the annoying family members, or the fact that he can name all fifty states but can’t remember whether he likes mustard or not. It isn’t any of those things. The worst part is knowing about the past that waits for him to sink back into it even though he can’t, no matter how hard he tries. It’s struggling with the fact that he has a whole family he doesn’t recognize but who loves him more than he’s ever seen a person be loved before. It’s seeing that love, witnessing the lengths they go to just to have their Dick back, but not being able to feel any of it because that isn’t his life. It’s not Ric’s love to have, and it never will be. Dick Grayson may be dead, but the love he earned is eternal. And that, right there? That’s what hurts the most.

[imonthinice]

are you taking requests? if so can you pls use the line "is there a problem here, gentlemen?" in a story?

BONUS STORY! 2ND UPLOAD OF THE DAY?? CRAZY. (if there is a second upload it’ll be at 6pm EST)

Author's Note: You fucking bet your bottom dollar that I'm going to do that.

Y/N - Your name

Batfam + batsis story. Y/N is the newest daughter of Bruce Wayne and is following in everyone’s footsteps as the youngest, in years of service, vigilante of the crew. They hold a gala with villains.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: LMAo Angst whoops, no spoilers but injury and description of injury, Swearing, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd amen

One-Shot. Not in the Criminal Psychology Majors Continuity.

Y/N packed up her knives into her thigh holsters, apparently, Bruce thought it was a good idea to hold a gala with the known villains of the world. And the kids had to handle it if it got out of hand, Why the fuck are we doing this, She thought, This is a stupid idea.

"Kids, I know you all think this is stupid-" Bruce tried to say before he was cut off.

"You could fucking say that again." Jason snapped at him.

"Kids, I know you all think this is stupid." Y/N mocked Bruce.

"Okay, okay, I get it. It’s a dumb idea.”

“Again, no fucking shit, Sherlock Holmes,” Tim said.

“You guys really don’t need to gang up on me like this,” Bruce tried to say.

“Gang up on you?! You’re the one all like ‘Hey kids! We’re going to do a gala with villains hehe! I hope u don’t mind xoxo.’ Shut the fuck up, Bruce,” Y/N snapped.

“Do you even want to go with that attitude?”

“No! I think that’s pretty fucking obvious!” she snapped again as she went to go grab one of her guns, but Bruce grabbed her arms.

“No. Guns,” he said, trying to be stern with her.

“No. Villains. In. The. House. Oh wait. You’re an idiot, I forgot, silly me,” she mocked before struggling out of his grasp and grabbed her guns and holstered them, one on each side, ambidextrous shooter because she had learned from Jason, quick with knifes and throwing them as well.

“Y/N, there’s no need to be so violent with me,” Bruce tried to say to get her to calm down.

“You just better hope none of those villains make a fucking move, Bruce.”

--------------------------------------

At the party, she wore combat boots and a cat suit under her dress, just so she could slip it off and go into action just as quickly. Her vigilante name was Syndicate, because when she named herself she thought she had the same values as Bruce and his kids. After time progressed, she realized that she was a lot more like Jason than she cared to admit.

They both carried guns into that party like no one was watching and telling them not to. They didn’t trust the villains in their house in any capacity, and that was obvious from both of their outbursts earlier in the day. They were the outliers in the batfam. The ones who did agree with some of what they were shown, but guns and death were necessary sometimes. She and Jason were the true Syndicate.

It was a masquerade ball, so everyone’s faces were hidden, but Jason had his white hair streak, so she knew where to go to talk about the gala and what they would do if the villains attacked the rest of them, and she did so.

Walking over to Jason, she could feel the eyes of many men around her, not everyone recognized her as the newest daughter of Bruce Wayne, so eyes were hungry and they wanted to dance the night away with the temptress. She thought that dating was idiotic, though. And especially if it was a villain trying to sweep her off of her feet.

“May I have this dance, milady?” Jason asked.

“Yes,” she said while accepting his outstretched hand and they went to twirl around the dance floor when she leaned into his ear, “I don’t trust these fucks, Jason,” she whispered.

“Who the fuck does trust it,” he whispered back.

“We need to be on our toes.”

“You’re already on your toes, dancing with me,” he joked.

“You’re the worst, Jason. I mean it.”

“When do you not. But I’m your favourite brother and you know it,” he said as he dipped her.

“While that may be true,” she stopped when she caught some of the people leaving to the backdoor, “We have an issue,” she whispered and pointed towards the people leaving.

“Son of a bitch.” 

And they were off as fast as they could without drawing suspicion.

----------------------------

“Is there a problem here, Gentlemen?” Jason asked when they met up with the people trying to snoop, they assumed.

“Yes, there is,” one of the mystery men said as he pulled a gun and pointed it at Jason, “And it’s you, son.”

“Cute! He even brought his little girlfriend with him!” one of the other men exclaimed as he snooped closer towards Y/N and pulled a gun on her too.

“Festive, truly, you three are,” she said, staring down the barrel of the gun.

“Shut it, girl,” the second man commanded.

“No thanks,” she said as she grabbed the barrel of the gun and struggled it out of her face, it misfired and hit a few different areas of the wall behind her, at the same time, Jason had managed to get the gun out of his attacker’s hands and was pointing it back at him.

She continued to one-hand hold the gun while she tried to find the handle of one of her knives. She managed to grab it and fling it into the shoulder of the third, not speaking, man’s shirt and pin him to the wall. The struggle for the gun was still on though, but she was able to get her other hand onto the gun when it fired off.

 Jason was busy attacking the other two men to notice that Y/N had been shot in the shoulder, and too busy to realize that the party had been evacuated and Bruce was up his ass in texts asking where he and Y/N were.

Y/N slumped to the ground, clutching her wound when the man turned his gun on Jason, she used her boots to her advantage and kicked the man to the floor as hard as she could. Jason ended up being able to tie the three men to each other within 10 minutes, while Y/N was bleeding out on the floor, he didn’t notice she was shot till she was clutching on for her life.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he whispered as he tried to lug her off the ground and run to the front entrance, where he could hear the ambulances going off. When she whispered to him, “I’m...” she breathed, “Sorry...” she breathed again, “Jay,” she didn’t breathe again.

He sat there in shock,, clutching his dead sister’s body in his arms and making no noise when the paramedics rushed in and saw the damage. The called in for the coroner, and went to get Jason off of her.

---------------------------------

In the police station, they told Jason that they just needed him to explain his story, even though they had the footage. Bruce was pressing charges against the men, later to be Harvey Dent and two of his accomplices, for the death of his daughter.

Bruce had not seen his son since the incident, but things were moving quickly and he would get to see him again when the police finished their interviews. But Jason was struggling to get his words out, so they let Bruce go see his son and try to comfort him.

“Jay?” Bruce asked, trying to see if Jason would even look at him, he didn’t, so Bruce went and just hugged his son while he cried into his dad’s shoulder, “I know, son. You did your best.”

---------------------------------------

The funeral for Y/N involved a lot of crying from every batfam member. Even Damien, who struggled to show Y/N a lot of love, cried like no one was watching at his big sister’s grave. He actually laid beside her grave once she was buried for a while as everyone was telling stories about her. Dick found him and picked him up to take him inside. 

No one held resentment for Jason and him not noticing, they all saw the tapes, she didn’t make a damn noise until she was dying in his arms. Stubborn bitch, Jason had joked and everyone had laughed. They could at least remember Y/N for who she was before she died.

------------------------------

The trial was long and winded. Harvey, thank god, confessed in his interigation so he pled guilty to being an accessory to murder. However, both of his accomplices, even the man who shot her, pled not guilty to all charges. So the trial was hard.

Jason testified in court about how he thought she’d be okay, she could carry her own, but the gun shots were so loud and he very easily shot her. Then his lawyer started saying it was self defense.

The rest of the trial started to blur for all of them. But all of them were found guilty for the murder.

The victim’s statement to determined the death penalty was said by Bruce.

“Your Honor, these men took away my daughter. And I honestly don’t want them to get the death penalty. I want them to rot away in a prison. The poor girl was only 19, I want them to spend at least 20 years behind bars, sitting there, knowing they killed my baby girl,” he paused to wipe a tear, “I wish we weren’t here and she got to grow up and have kids. She’ll never know her nieces and nephews, the people her siblings marry, or even get married,” he paused again.

“I want my daughter back, but we’ll never get that. So, Your Honor, I ask for you to not give mercy for these men, Your Honor. Thank you.”

The men got life in prison without the possibility of parole.

----------------------------

Damien actually took his partner to meet his big sister first, before explaining the story to them. He still finds it hard to talk about how she died.

Tim goes to her grave a lot and tells her stories about his life and how he’s doing without her. He always leaves telling her that he loves her.

Barbara visits often as well. Just to talk to her. She says a lot about the missions they go on without her and how the team isn’t complete anymore, and how she worries Jason will never recover from this event.

Cassie doesn’t go often, the memories of Y/N are enough for her most of the time, but she goes every holiday and on Y/N’s birthday just to greet her and say that she loves her.

Steph seems to still have trouble accepting the fact that Y/N is gone. Maybe it's because they fought the night before and it would have been resolved so easily had she not died. It hurts everyone to see Steph talk about it.

Dick will sit at her grave for hours, he’s the one to clean her grave when it gets dirty. He doesn’t always talk to her, but when he does he asks her if she’s met his parents and if they’re proud of him. He’ll probably never know the answer to it, but he likes to think the wind that hits him after that is Y/N saying that she loves him and that his parents ar proud of him.

Jason doesn’t go to her grave on the day she died. He refuses to admit that she died in his arms, so he doesn’t go on the anniversary of her death. He bottles himself up in his room and cries. He has nightmares about her death.

Bruce wishes he could have done more, but when the trial ended he went to her grave and told her about it. He actually laid her to rest by his parents so that she could be near her grandparents. 

Alfred misses her but knows that he couldn’t have done anything, but he leaves nothing in front of the doors and windows so she can enter if ghosts are real.

[brucewaynehastoomanykids]

Damirae Week 2020 Day 6: Meeting the Family

"Damian are you sure this is a good idea?" Raven asked her boyfriend as she walked with him up the steps of Wayne Manor. "The last encounter I had with your father wasn't exactly the best."

When a certain older brother decided it would be a good idea to blurt out that Damian was dating his teammate at the dinner table, Alfred thought it was a good idea to invite the girl over, and eventually convinced Bruce to agree to it. Of course, all of this was done without Damian nor Raven's inputs, and the current boy wonder couldn't help but feel bad when he told his anti-social girlfriend about it.

"As I'm well aware," Damian sighed. "But I believe that spending time with him is in order if we ever wish to get over the whole 'Trigon' thing."

"Damian I don't even have to know him that well to know that he won't give in that easily."

"Worth a shot. Now," he stopped at the door and turned to face her, "my family can be a little... much."

"Judging from how you and Dick act with one another I can tell. It can't be any worse than my family life."

No matter how much he wanted to retaliate against her statement, he couldn't. He just sighed and stepped aside to the doorbell and pushed the small button.

The door opened to an older man with grey hair and a tux. From what Raven was told about Damian's family, she assumed this was Alfred.

The man gave a warm smile. "Welcome home, master Damian. I assume this is miss Raven? Or perhaps she would prefer Rachel?"

"Either is fine, sir," Raven replied lightly. "Though, it may be easier for you just to address me with my last name; Roth." She extended her hand to the older man. "I assume you're Alfred?"

Alfred shook her hand gently. "Indeed I am, miss Roth. Please, both of you, do come in. Masters Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim awaits in the dining area."

Alfred stepped aside so that the teens could enter. Damian gave a quick 'thank you, Pennyworth' before walking in with Raven walking closely to his side. Raven was new to the manor and had never stepped inside until now, so the last thing she wanted was to get lost. The two reached a large area with a long table that seated four people at one corner. Raven recognized Bruce at the end, and Dick to his right, but couldn't remember ever seeing the other two boys.

"It's nice to see you, Raven." Bruce smiled at the teen, though she could tell he didn't fully trust her still. She couldn't blame him though, her father did try to use her to destroy the world.

Still, she smiled back. "You too, Mr. Wayne."

"You know Dick, but I'd like to introduce you to my other two boys: Jason and Tim."

"Who's this?" A man who looked a little younger than Dick asked. He was wearing a brown leather jacket with a black shirt and leather pants.

"My name is Rachel Roth, but I usually go by Raven. I'm--"

"Wait, wait," the man put his hands up in the air, stopping her from speaking, "don't tell me you're the brats girlfriend?"

"Maybe let her finish her sentence, little wing?" Dick asked, putting his hand on the man's shoulder. "But to answer your question, yes."

"You could do better." The other unknown man said, taking a sip of what looked to be coffee.

This earned a chuckle from Dick.

Damian scoffed. "Normally I disagree with you, Drake, but you're right... she definitely could."

"Drake..." Raven repeated. "So I'm guessing he's Tim?"

"Bingo." Tim replied.

"And I'm Jason." Jason stood to shake the girl's hand. "But you can call me Jay if you want.

"Alright, Jay." She shook the man's hand, then went to shake Tim's.

"Please," Bruce said pointing a hand towards two empty chairs, "have a seat, both of you. Alfred should be out shortly with lunch."

The two birds took a seat next to each other. Though while Damian seemed more relaxed in nature, Raven was still slightly uncomfortable with the setting. She felt as though she was out of place and, honestly, wanted nothing more than to leave. Though it made her happy to feel that Damian was pleased she was getting along with his family, and it made her happy to know that that was what he wanted out of this.

The afternoon was filled with laughter and teasing jokes about the relationship with the most delicious BLT and cookies Raven had ever tasted. Overall, it was a peaceful afternoon. That was, until Bruce got up, seemingly to put his plate in the kitchen before whispering to her ear that he wanted to speak with her privately. Raven got up from her seat and told the boys that she needed to be excused for a moment. Damian gave both her and his father a questionable and somewhat concerned look as the two walked out of the room.

"You wanted to talk to me, Mr. Wayne?" Raven asked once they were alone.

"I just wanted to give you a little bit of an understanding statement of my thoughts. I figured you would rather it just be us to hear them." Bruce took a seat in a nearby chair and folded his hands together. "I want you to know that I personally have nothing against you, yourself. I may not be around you enough like Dick or Damian to know you well personally, but from what I have seen, I can tell you are a genuine person with a kind heart and good intentions, even if at times it may not seem like it. It's what you can do that worries me. I don't know if you realize this, Raven, but you're a very strong being."

"Sadly, it's all I've ever known, sir. Even on Azarath, I was constantly reminded of who my father is and what I could potentially do because of who my father is. My powers work off of my emotions. If I happen to strongly feel something and express that feeling, I could potentially kill millions. I have to constantly keep myself in a mellow mood because of this."

"I'm aware." Bruce leaned forward as if to get a better look at the girl in front of him. "I have my hypothesis, but I want to hear it from you: is it true that your father is trapped in that gemstone on your forehead?"

"Yes, sir." She replied sadly, looking to the ground. "Trust me, it's not as glorious as it looks, but it keeps Trigon locked away."

Bruce wondered for a moment if it would be too much for Raven if he were to ask the question that rang through his mind, eventually deciding that it would be better to ask for forgiveness later. "It hurts you to have him there, doesn't it? And I don't mean in a way where you feel guilty because he's your father... Raven... I'm sorry for asking, but, does he... say things to you?"

Raven went wide-eyed and silent before nodding slightly. "Yes."

"Would you like me to fix that?"

The girl looked at him in both shock and confusion. "There's no way you can unless I take it off and that would cause him to break free."

Bruce smirked. "You'd be surprised at what I can pull off."

"You would do this... why?"

"Simple: there's a possibility that one day you will be apart of this family for real, as a Wayne. And if that day does happen I don't want my future daughter-in-law to suffer. Besides, you make my son happy. And if you're not happy, it defeats the whole purpose."

Raven felt tears form in her eyes. "I don't know how to repay you, sir..."

"I think you giving my son a new sense of purpose is enough repayment." The man smiled.

Raven couldn't contain herself at this point. She flew into the man's arms and wraps her arms around him, taking him into a hug, repeating small barely audible thank yous into the man's ear as tears began to roll down her face. Nothing could take away the happiness she felt at that moment.

[iphoenixrising]

I did not expect people to want more of the thing *shrugs* 

Thank-you for the comments on my assholery with cliff hangers @txbookeater​, I love you too babe <3. So much love to electra-iphigenie, emjalen, ships-lover, and @chibinightowl​ for talking up that post. Based on this thing. Warning for triggering themes. Be aware of good boyfriending, kink negotiations, and mentions of past sexual assault. 

Proceed at your own risk 

He takes in a breath, blank for a second, his brain catching up. “Could it possibly be in the bathroom before I get in a nice, hot shower? Followed by a few hours of unconsciousness? That would be really amazing right about now.”

Deflection is an art form, and he really is a master.  He shrugs off his bag, gives him an opportunity to turn away, aware of eyes and how he’s dragging ass, feeling off and irritable. His brain doesn’t have to keep moving from one thing to the next, and things are slowing down. A shudder runs like cold fingers down his spine.

“I think I’d rather ya do it right here, Tim,” and there’s no Sweets, Baby, or any other endearments to make this easier on him. Nope. 

(It’s fine. Breathe. Just some bruises. They’ve seen worse, had worse. They’re all adults here.)

“Jay, I am tired–” “You’re looking shaky, a little strung out.” Dick, at least, makes it gentle. “And I saw it already, so we both know. I’d rather see the damage without your shirt in the way.” “Then, we’re gonna talk ‘bout why ya didn’t tell us right away.” “Mmhm, we might need to have another talk about the rules when we play.” “You’re blowing this out of proportion,” he argues gently, rubbing his hands and wrists because his fingers are tingling. “We had a play date, and by the time I was getting...you know, sore, I was already at work, you were on patrol–” “You didn’t say a word about it to me,” Dick cuts in, “and you absolutely should have. Now, I’m wondering if you really do know your limits, and if I can trust you enough to stop us when you need to.” “I...I didn’t–” yes. Yes I did.

It’s as simple as breathing in too sharply, his ears suddenly ringing, and there’s rubber in his mouth, his teeth probably cutting into it, and it hurts. Normally, he’s okay with rough and multiple rounds, loves how they get when they need control, to feel like there’s something in their hands that can’t just be taken away. 

He gets it. Loves that their go-to outlet for it...is him. 

Even if he can’t come again, it still usually feels amazing, and crazy in his brain because they want him this much. Really, he loves them. 

(The bell clenched in his fist is making an indent in his palm. His chest constricts, just like last time, but he can at least gasp through the holes in the gag. So he doesn’t need to drop it. He wants to. It hurts and he wants to, but he doesn’t. He can take it. He’s had worse. This is for them.) 

Neither of them noticed it had gone from amazing to uncomfortable to painful, and he didn’t drop the bell. He didn’t tell them to stop, so really, it’s on him isn’t it?

Bile rushes up his throat, bringing him back to the very real present where Dick and Jay are suddenly really close, and he realizes he’s just sitting in Dick’s lap, shaking like a leaf.

His face is wet, his chest hitching. 

He doesn’t puke, so that is about a million points.

But, he is absolutely falling the utter fuck apart and that just isn’t conducive to his attempt at coming home to snuggle and pass out in blissful unconsciousness.

(This is his life. Seriously.)

“Shit, shit, shit,” the first attempt to move is right out the window because he’s on octopus hold lockdown.

(On one hand it feels nice to be held. On the other, he can’t escape and it feels restrictive, stifling, terrifying.)

“Hey, hey, Baby. Lookey here. That’s it, that’s good.” Jay is rubbing palms up and down the top of his calves, up to his knees and down to his ankles. He’s talking low and gentle. “I’m going ta the kitchen, n’ getcha some water. Then, we’re gonna talk ‘bout what’s doing, you feel me? If me and Dickie are gonna be able ta take care a’ ya, then we gotta know what’s in yer head.”

He’s breathing too hard, too fast, his hearing spotty at best.

“Ssshhh. You’re having a panic attack, Timmy. You’re hyperventilating, so I need for you to calm down now, okay?” 

Then Dick’s chest is under his tingling fingers, and the exaggerated breathing helps him slow it down, take back some of the control over his body.

He doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out or puke, so the day is looking up. 

The absurdity of that thought it the thing that really makes him laugh, the sound hoarse, choked. 

“Okay, okay, you’re doing good, Timmy, just stay with me,” and he didn’t notice when Dick started rocking back-and-forth in a soothing motion, or when Jay got back and slid a hand around the nape of his neck.

He’s still shaky as fuck, curled up against Dick’s warmth, and fuck is he cold and wrung out. It feels like a high fever, joints achy, brain foggy, reaction time slow.

“...it’s a fucking drop, Dick. Look at ‘im!” “I’ve never heard of a delayed response like this.” “Knew we shoulda waiting ta scene. He went right from bed ta the pressure cooker, Dick.” “I should have picked up on it when I went to see him.” “S’all right, least we know what ta do now,” and Jay bends, pulls and lifts him like he isn’t a full grown man, pulling him in tight. “Need ta getcha all warm n’ snuggled, don’t we, Baby?”

Dick is throwing back the covers, but Tim doesn’t want to get in bed, not smelling like antiseptic and and bleach, but being warm, being able to hide his face in the pillow is really appealing.

He nods in Jay’s shoulder and lets just the scrub top be pulled off, leaving him in the nerd shirt underneath. He’s glad for it, already vulnerable, cold, shaky.

A straw to his mouth from no where and water before hands are helping him scoot over gingerly in the middle before flopping down on his good side with two warm vigilantes like bookends. Gentle circles on his back while Dick snakes an arm under his head, pulls him closer. 

“All right, that’s better.”

That hand hits a tender spot, and the flinch is automatic. “Sorry, Timmy. Once yer all warm, we’ll lookit how bad, yeah? Gonna lemme see, and it’s gonna be all right. S’ just me n’ Dickie.”

It’s awful because the two wrapped around him is fucking close to perfect and he isn’t feeling as shitty as he was at the ominous picture they made when he first walked in, and yeah, yeah, maybe it was stupid to try hiding it from them. He’s fuzzy about it, but he’s pretty sure that’s a rule somewhere in the Do’s and Don’ts for Playtime talk. 

He probably going to get a lecture. Possibly two.

“Sorry,” he finally says, voice stronger because his throat doesn’t feel like raw hamburger anymore. “I...that wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know why it was bad, but I’m s–”

“The only thing that would make me angry right now is if you apologize again,” Dick follows it up with scritches to take the sting out of it. “Something triggered you to have a severe drop, Timmy, and if you could tell us what happened, it would help us to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Can you understand that? We need to know so we don’t accidentally hurt you?”

He goes still and his chest hurts just a little.

“I...I should have safeworded out,” it hurts to say, “I sh-should have dropped it, but I thought I could take it, and then things got weird and my brain just, and I thought if I did it would be weak and-and you didn’t need that, and I-I just. I’m sore and it hurt and I didn’t– it’s my fault, okay. I should have because I know that’s a rule somewhere.”

and he keeps babbling on, rambling with his eyes getting hot and his vigilante boyfriends petting him, rocking with him, letting everything just pour out of him without stopping him or pulling away, just–

Dealing with his special brand of insanity. (Those darn abandonment issues. Golly, some day he won’t feel like his chest is being ripped open viciously with fear they’re going to walk the fuck out of his life and never come back.)

He’s finally talked out, feeling like ass about fucking up their morning.

“Your color is coming back, that’s good.” “Warmed all up, Dickie. Time ta tell it like it is.” Well. Shit.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” and he blinks up out of Dick’s chest with his eyes still puffy and his side tender, those blue eyes dark with something hard to interpret.

“I’m not happy you didn’t tell us immediately because we agreed to communicate about these things. D&S can be scarring, and this is just an example of how people get hurt.” 

“And I’m going to say this now so you understand how important it is. About the fact you didn’t safeword.” Dick’s chest expands, hitches, “You need to know, you’re not only protecting yourself when you do, but you’re protecting us, too.”

“I don’t–”

“Tim. I’ve been sexually assaulted several times, and you know that. So... knowing I hurt you that way makes me sick inside, okay. Can you– can you understand that?”

“I-I fuck, Dick, I’m–” “Please don’t say it. No more sorries. But, it’s important you understand Jay and I have our own traumas, so if you, not us, want to keep trying this, we have to navigate more carefully.”

Behind him, Jay’s forehead is nestled in the dip at the base of his neck, and a hard breath whistles down the back of his shirt. 

He despairs inside at how Dick and Jay must be feeling, how bad it looked to them that Tim hadn’t come clean, hadn’t safeworded at all. “I fucked up. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Dick presses a gentle kiss in his hair, and Jay nuzzles against his throat. 

He gets more sips of water and eventually a panini and soup. There’s more cuddles and warmth, more talk that sucks the breath out of them all. 

His head wraps around the rules differently this time, taking careful note of the way Dick’s expression gets shuddered and Jay goes still. He assures them he still does want playtime sometimes, shoots down the notion he’s only doing it for them, tells them that when his brain is too full and he needs to give up control, he doesn’t want to do it with anyone else but them. 

He realizes it’s because somewhere, he knows they’ll take care of him...if he lets them.

Then his shirt comes off so the deep bruises can have Alfred’s magical concoction spread over. His cheeks are pink when he’s laid out on his stomach with the scrub pants tossed off the bed. Soft praise while he’s spread open by gentle hands to make sure he’s not torn. Bruised and sore yeah, but nothing too awful. He gets a pair of Dick’s cut-off sweatpants that still hit him below the knee and one of Jay’s shirts that he practically swims in, but he feels about a million times better just wearing their clothes.

And when they’re careful with him for the next few days, when love making is tender and slow, when touches are easy with his bruises in mind, when everything is verbal and consent is crucial, he make more of an effort to stomp down the urges to push his limits, push himself. He stomps down on those stupid recriminations and uncertainties, tries to remember that these two could be literally anywhere else in the world, and yet, here they are at his side.

He gets to have vigilantes bleeding on his fire escape, and the men under the mask in his bed, in his shower, in his kitchen, in his life. 

The next scene he yellows, gets a much needed pause before they continue, and the aftercare is truly a thing of beauty.

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 12

The next waffle was perfect, crispy golden and almost a perfect circle, with beautiful melted pools of chocolate dotting the surface, with two almost perfectly in the Eevee pattern’s eyes, and Jason passed it over to Steph’s plate as he chanted a few Latin prayers, grinning as she burst into cackles at his terrible imitation of a priest. He’d utterly butchered the old prayers, but eh, it wasn’t like he was practicing anymore, and it made Steph laugh, so he still felt it was doing right by a God he’d long since stopped believing in.

“Oh god, you’re Catholic, aren’t you?”

“Eh, technically I’m a Resurrectionist—” She snorted at that, loud and adorable and perfect (everyone always looked weirded out, and Jason had, early on, always done his best to snort the same way. Weird dead Robins had to look out for one another.) He snickered in response. “But yes, I’m a former Catholic. Used to go to St. Maria’s as a kid, before Father John cleaned the place up.”

“…And the chanting?”

“Look, we only fucked up one waffle! Gotta bless it before shit goes south again.” She laughed at that, bold and happy and loud, and he planted kisses all over her face before turning back to the waffle maker and getting it going again. Glancing back over his shoulder, Jason grinned to see Steph holding up a fork with a triangle of waffle, topped with whipped cream and one of the raspberries she’d washed up, and he took the offering with a nom, groaning as the concoction melted in his mouth. Chewing, he gave her a thumbs up, already planning on making one for himself, and she chuckled, spraying on whipped cream and tossing on raspberries with abandon, then diving right in.

“Ooohhhhh this is soooooo good.”

“And somewhat healthy, that’s the lowfat whipped cream and everything’s organic.” He grinned after swallowing his mouthful of heaven, mouth watering already as he watched the waffle maker count down with hungry eyes; together, they switched off and a half-dozen waffles for each later, plus bacon and eggs, they were settled on Steph’s tiny couch and snuggled up close, groaning over their shared food babies. Jason had tucked a warm blanket over them both, because the rain coming down outside was just a little chilly for his tastes, and her apartment was…definitely on the list to be reno’d.

“…mmm…”

“Hmm?”

“This is really nice, Jay…”

“Yeah it is…” He murmured, tucking her head into his shoulder and pressing a kiss to her forehead, scarred fingers gently playing with a long curl of her hair before shifting to comb through the rest of her curls, making her purr against his neck.

“Ohhhh yes…please don’t stop…” He chuckled and shifted just a little so that he could bring his other hand up; with both hands, he started working on the knots in her neck and shoulders, on up into her scalp and back down, careful to comb away her soft curls so that they didn’t tangle. Steph melted into his chest, all the tension from the week just falling away as they snuggled to the song of rain and thunder outside, and Jason hummed softly as she whimpered at the release of one particularly bad knot in her right shoulder.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah…fuck…been hurting there for a while now…”

“Why didn’t you say something?” She snorted softly, then sighed.

“You know how everyone is…”Do yoga, work it out, or just deal with it.” Jason heaved a heavy sigh himself at that, wincing.

“Touché, not being a part of the daily Batdrama made me forget about Bruce’s general masochism about pain and aches. Well, tell ya what; whenever either of us is hurting, how about we either work on each other, or go see an expert? I’ll foot the bill.”

“Yes, please. I’m…well, I don’t know how to massage someone properly? I’m guessing you learned from Alfred…”

“Talia, actually, and Nyssa while she was part of the League. Ra’s thinks it’s stupid, because it’s a ‘women’s weakness’ or some bullshit, but Talia and Nyssa both used massage as a tool, among their subordinates and with one another. And me, I guess, I was the odd duck out; most of the men were under Ra’s, while Talia’s personal guard was exclusively female.”

“She knew you, though.” Jason smiled at that, sad at the memories, and nodded, kissing her cheek now as Steph shifted up to meet his eyes. He normally didn’t like making a lot of eye contact with people, hence the hood, but Steph…it was different. Like Nyssa, in a way…Talia I never did, because she would take that as a challenge, but Nyssa and I grew to be good friends, and it was…easy with her. B always thought I was interested in her, but no; she’s just a familiar soul, I suppose. Steph, however, was even easier; there was always something in her gaze that reminded him of his own reflection, and he was sure that could be psychoanalyzed into oblivion, but he wasn’t gonna go that deep.

“She did. Damian…probably doesn’t remember all that well, but I was basically his babysitter for Talia for the short time I was there; she trusted a Robin, even one as much a zombie as I was at first, because even with the Pit madness, I was…well. Protective.” She smiled a little, and he smiled back, stroking her cheek now. “I never shoulda left him there, but…well…”

“You did what you could.”

“Yeah…and Talia was fine with me kiting off; taking Damian would have gotten me killed again. I’m just so glad she turned him over to Bruce…”

“Me too. It’s…B’s not the greatest parent, but he’s really working with Damian, which is huge given the crap he’s pulled with all of us.” Jason chuckled at that, nuzzling her cheek, and she kissed him softly, settling against his side. He tucked her close, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders, and rubbed her lower back now, grinning as she melted back into his shoulder.

“I think Damian reminds him of Dick, in a lot of ways, just more aggression, like me. So, instead of Tim, who’s learned, like Bruce, to control all his emotions in one clean, collected package, he has a Robin with attitude and a whole lotta baggage again, and he’s having to jump through hoops that he could largely train out of both Dick and I. Fortunately, Damian’s just as stubborn as B, and it’s kinda great that he’s been able to force some changes of his own.” Steph chuckled at that.

“Like Batcow, Alfred the Cat, Titus…”

“Fuckin’ Goliath, and lemme tell you, Demon Kitty was not on the list of potential pets B was willing to consider.”

“Which was why Damian just brought him home and didn’t care.” Jason snickered, laughter rumbling through his chest, which made Steph snuggle in more, much to his delight.

“Yup, and the look on B’s face is one I’ll treasure forever.” She giggled, and kissed him again, and Jason melted into the kiss, groaning when her hand started rubbing up and down his neck. He rolled a little more onto his side so that her arm didn’t cramp, and let out a full body sigh, snuggling around her. “Ohhhh baby you don’t have to…”

“I want to, Jay…tell me if I do something wrong?”

“I doubt you will, but yes, if it comes up…fuuuuuuuuuuuck oh hell yeah, right there.” He almost whimpered when she started scritching his scalp, nuzzling her hair with a moan of relief. It was better than sex, in a way; this was…grounding, and comforting, and more intimate. “Ffffucksofuckinggood.”

“This is for making me waffles, you amazing, wonderful, glorious man. I’m not sure I’m ready for sex yet, so hairscritches are at least a decent substitute?”

“Sosogoodbetterthansex.” He mumbled out, and she giggled again, shifting him so that he was facedown in the pillows and Steph was straddling his hips, working her hands up and down his back over his teeshirt, and Jason just went limp, eyes rolling with relief as his scarred muscles were carefully worked free of kinks and knots. Steph had said she hadn’t a clue, but she was gentle on his back, not pressing too hard, nor was she too light on the scars; her hands were softer than his, less callused, and so the gnarled skin over each old wound didn’t tense or ache from too much sensation. She mapped out his back with care, and with a sigh, he reached a hand back and patted her thigh.

“Babe, don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re not a genius, because that is amazing.” He could almost feel the brightness of her smile, and he chuckled as she leaned down to kiss his shoulder, purring at the warmth of her body on top of his. “Seriously.”

“I’m so glad…I hope your scars aren’t hurting?”

“Definitely not, not even twinging like usual from the rain…How about you?” She sighed a little, snuggling in closer, and he craned his neck around, worried. “Babe?”

“I’m…a little achy, but it’s in weird spots…I don’t wanna be gross…” She murmured, nuzzling his shoulder, and he gently rubbed his hand up and down her thigh, ignoring the awkward position.

“…It’s not gross if it’s things that hurt.” He murmured, and she shifted back, letting him turn and face her, green eyes earnest. “Cramps? Period? I can run out and get you whatever you need?” She blushed, shaking her head, then nodded, then sighed, and he gently drew her back into his arms, tucking her between his legs and wrapping the blanket around her, snuggling her close. “The scars Sionis gave you too?”

“…Yeah. I…Look, this is gonna be…really fuckin’ gross, but when he tortured me…he…he didn’t just limit himself to my stomach and breasts…” She murmured, gulping a little, and he closed his eyes, swallowing back the sudden rage. “He didn’t put the drill in me, thank fuck for that, but things are…kinda fucked up down there. And yeah, it’s my period going, so it’s just…extra gross…” Steph blushed bright red, and he gently stroked back her curls, eyes soft, patient. “…I have to wear the disposable underwear that old people use…”

“…Oh sweetheart, that’s okay. Does it work?” She glanced up, eyes brimming with tears, and he gently kissed her brow, her cheek, her nose, her lips, brushing soft kisses all over her face, but she nodded, one lone tear overflowing. He gently brushed it away, cupping her cheek. “Then that’s all that matters to me. I won’t be grossed out, I won’t be upset. Hell…when you do see me naked, you might run away. I’m…not exactly in great shape down there, either. Missing one of my balls and my dick ain’t the straightest.” He followed that with a fake grin, still embarrassed, deep down, but she saw right through him; Steph shook her head and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“If Roy and the others didn’t care…I won’t. Besides…” She huffed out a laugh, and he felt a real smile touch his lips again. “It just means we can be fucked up together. But…thank you for not being grossed out anyway. It’s…you’re the first person to know besides B and Leslie…and B only knows because he hacked the hospital records. And you’re the only person who’s…probably ever gonna see them, which…I’m fine with.” He smiled at that, and she smiled back, kissing him softly. “So long as you intend to keep that proposal available.”

“Baby, it’s all yours; hell, we could go out one of these days and get a set of rings.”

“…You really want a set?”

“Fuck yeah I do, I wanna be a kept man.” The snort she gave was absolutely adorable, and Jason grinned wide at that, feeling their previous good mood return finally, and Steph kissed him, full and happy and perfect, before snuggling back into his chest.

“…So, kept man…could you rub my lower back again? Cramps are hitting me hard…” He placed his hands over her hips, gently rubbing and warming the area, and Steph sighed, dropping her head onto his shoulder, the tension bleeding out of her limbs. “Fuck…thank you…”

“So welcome, sugar…Wanna watch something mindless?” She smiled, and as Jason grabbed the remote, she let out a soft sigh, snuggling in closer, and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead once more, running his hand over her lower back and keeping her safe and warm.

Yeah.

He really loved Sundays.

[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon: Chapter 2

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damien Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damien brings a new friend home.

Part 1 

Part 2 (HERE)

Part 3

_______________________________________________________________________

Of all the ways Tim had imagined his secret getting out, he had to say that his family finding his research into Damien’s girlfriend was pretty low on the list, practically nonexistent. Especially since it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they thought his interest in her was more than a little creepily obsessive in the worst way possible. 

Though he had to admit that the evidence against him didn’t paint a pretty picture. Any other twenty three year old with this much info on a sixteen-year-old would no doubt be placed on a list. Though he’s pretty sure from the white-knuckled grip his brothers had on their weapons, they’d rather rip him a new asshole if he didn’t give them an answer they liked soon. 

He settled for an even, “I do background checks on people that spend time here, why is it surprising that I have one on Marinette?” 

He was fairly certain that the others would be able to hear his heartbeat if it started pounding any faster. He worked with heroes of all shape and size, seen powers of all types, faced down villains of every magnitude and yet the idea of his secret getting out terrified him more than anything he’d ever experience.  Bruce gave him a steely look, “Tim, your file on Rah al Ghul is 3.4 GB, your file on Marinette Dupian-Cheng is nearly 8 GB.” 

“Not to mention,” Dick’s voice was dripping with so much venom Tim couldn’t help but wince, that didn’t sound like his carefree brother, “You went to great lengths to hide the check from us. You’re paranoid, but this is different Tim.” 

“I just wanted to talk to Marinette about something before I put it on the server…” He snapped, trying to shift the fear clawing at his very essence to anger, “Just because I did background on her doesn’t mean she’s not allowed to have her privacy. She… ” 

He knew it was a flimsy excuse, but the glares getting icier around him made everything instinct he ever had told him to run. He can see why Bruce had said no costumes tonight, he would have been on his motorcycle halfway to Star City by now if he was wearing his mask. 

“Tim,” Bruce cuts in, “Just tell us what’s going on. We can’t help if you don’t tell us.” 

He clenched his hands into his pants, trying to get them to stop shaking.  He had no choice, did he? 

“Okay,” He agreed, “I need to grab something from my room, first.”

“Todd, Go with him,” Damien ordered. Tim was sure the brat wanted to go himself, but Dick had a strong hand on his shoulder, no doubt holding him back from using “non-approved by Bruce” interrogation methods. 

Jason clapped a hand on Tim’s back making him flinch before the taller man pulled him back up the staircase. 

“This better be good, replacement,” 

“Do you really think so little of me?” Tim couldn’t help but ask as he was shoved through his door, “because it’s not hard to figure out what you guys think of me right now, but…” 

Jason's refusal to look at him hurt more then he was willing to admit. 

“We’re praying we’re wrong,” He finally said, “but we can’t think of a single other reason for you being like this.” 

Tim flinched as he entered the code into the padlock on his side table, he knew that at least two of his siblings knew the code at this point, but placing the embarrassing pictures of him from his first year as Robin seemed enough to appease them from looking further. 

“Bruce doesn’t like working with Metas,” He managed out as he pulled up the false bottom and snatched his journal. As he turned back to Jason he could see the older boy blinking at him in startled befuddlement. 

“Marinette is a Meta?”  He questioned causing Tim to hug the book tight to his chest, eyes focusing on the rusty looking 10 over his brother's head as it twisted around, he couldn’t be more relieved when it faded from the venomous green as the Laruaz sickness faded. 

He didn’t answer instead brushing past him towards the stairs to the Batcave. Jason was right on his heels. 

“What the fuck Timmy,” He questioned instantly. Tim let out a weak chuckle. 

Jason wasn’t stupid, no matter what he tried to convince people, and Tim knew his brother would put it together quickly if he said anything else, but he didn’t want to talk about it, but… he kinda wished he had longer in the shadows he was used to. He remained quiet. 

“You can’t just say that and go rushing off,” He pushed as they entered the stairwell, causing Tim to scrunch his shoulders more. 

Tim was halfway down the steps when he felt Jason stop behind him, a heavy hand landing on his shoulder. He held back a wince as he glanced at his brother's face. 

The serious set of Jason’s jaw and the understanding in his eyes put Tim on edge. 

“Mari’s not the one that’s Meta, is she?” 

“...”

“Come on Tim, answer the question.” 

I don’t know if she is or not…” 

“But she’s not what you meant when you said Bruce doesn’t like working with Metas, is she?” 

Tim couldn’t force his mouth to work. 

“Shit…” Jason groaned, rubbing a hand down his face as he sank down to sit on the stairs, “We really are assholes.” 

“Jay?” 

He waved a hand dismissing Tim’s questioning tone, “You kept notes about what you can do in that book?” 

“I…” Tim’s brain was having trouble keeping up with what was happening, “Yeah?” 

“Great, hand it over and go back upstairs,” 

Tim flinched back, grip tightening, “What?” 

Jason just looked away, crossing his arms, “Look, we jumped to the wrong conclusion, and I don’t know what your power is but it made you wary of Marinette. You look like a frightened rabbit right now, so I doubt you’ll want to go through Bruce’s shitty menagerie of questions on your powers, so give me the fucking notes you have on yourself and I’ll keep them down here until we’ve gone through your book and figure it out. Then maybe by patrol, we’ll all calm down enough to… ya know fucking talk about it.” 

Tears weld up in Tim’s eyes as he sits on the stairs next to Jason, knees trembling too much to hold him up, “You… You don’t hate me?” 

The ideas startled the older boy into looking back to Tim’s face, face softening as he saw the look in his eyes. 

“Ah Timmy,” He sighed, pulling the other boy into his side “None of us are going to hate you for being meta.” 

Tim gave a shaky nod into his shoulder, reluctantly holding out the book, “It’s mostly just data… I…” 

Jason took the book carefully, bouncing it in his hand lightly, “Did you write down what your power is?” 

“Yeah but…” 

“Great skedaddle,” 

“Wait,” Tim cut Jason off as he goes to stand, “I… I want to tell someone before you find out through… through my journal.” 

Jason settles back down, “Alright replacement, What can you do?” 

Slowly he explains the numbers, the levels he had been able to see since he a baby, how he used it to know where to focus in a battle, used it to figure out every secret identity without trying. 

“Well damn,” Jason whistled, once Tim’s explanation started trailing off, “No wonder you were always good at the detective shtick, no one could hide from you.” 

Tim let out a startled laugh, “Ye... yeah, even if the color and number themselves change the font stays the same so it’s pretty easy to keep track of people...” 

“So two questions before I let you go hide in the woods, and go relay all this info to the others.” 

Tim nodded, relaxing more. He never imagined his power being revealed going so well.

“First, who’s the most dangerous of the Batfam?” 

Tim smirked, “Alfred, he’s a 12, same as Wonderwoman. Bruce and the demon spawn are tie for second at 11 and then you and Dick both have 10s, same as Superman. I... I don’t have a number.” 

“Fucking knew it,” 

“We all knew Alfred was dangerous, even without my power.” 

“Truth. Alright question dos, Why does Marinette freak you out?” 

His jaw clenched, he knew this one was coming, but he also knew how it would sound.

“She’s... She’s a 15.” 

Jason’s eyes bugged out, “15?! We’re talking about the same girl, right? Pigtails, freckles, makes sweets for us every time she visits, looks like a strong wind will fly her back to Paris?” 

“Yes!” Tim groaned, “I can’t find a single fucking thing that explains why she’s so high! Before this, the highest I’ve seen is 12!” 

“No wonder you’ve been going insane... or well more insane.” 

“Thank you for being an understanding asshole.”

“Hey what else are brothers for?” He asked, smile a little tight as he climbed to his feet, still holding Tim’s journal, “Now let's go, before the brat knocks out Dick and comes looking for you.” 

Tim gave a weary smile before disappearing up the stairs. 

When Jason reached cave the others were starting to look impatient. 

“Where’s Drake,” Damien asked instantly, body coiling dangerously. 

“I don’t him to scram,” The tall man said with a shrug, “He explained what’s happening to me, and trust me he has a good fucking reason, and probably thinks that Bruce is going to kick him out so I told him to take it easy until I calm all of you down.” 

“He what?” Bruce choked out, as the other boys stopped, all eyes focusing on Jason. 

“Yup!” Jason popped the ‘p’ before holding up the book Tim had given him, “Who’s ready for story time?” 

_______________________________________________________________________

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