#it’s been a hot minute since I’ve read anything with Dick as Robin

[desperatecheesecubes]

He just picks him up and throws him 😭

[danny-chase]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batgirl (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson Characters: Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon (momentarily), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned) - Character Additional Tags: Stephanie Brown POV, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Chocolate Milk, post mission talks, Damian Wayne is a brat with a heart of gold, Stitches, Canon Typical Violence, but not for long, because i like fluff better, Fluff, Stephanie Brown is Batgirl, Dick Grayson is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Sneezing, Coughing, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne's almost parent, Stephanie Brown is Damian Wayne's almost big sister, And kind of Dick's little sister Summary:

Steph hasn't worked with the new Batman and Robin duo long, but she doesn't hesitate to come when they call for backup. Their family's a little rough around the edges, but she'll do what she can to smooth things out.

“C’mon, faster!” Stephanie hated when Barbara seemed anxious, when she was anxious, generally something was about to go wrong. Really, really, wrong.

 “I’m homing in on the coordinates.” Barbara was driving on autopilot, but she couldn’t resist saying the line. Damian’s tracker blinked closer and closer. The kid had run off earlier that night, Dick, however, was getting better at predicting when it would happen and followed. She’d been on call for backup, Damian needed space, but he was also a magnet for trouble and unfortunately for them-

“Robin retreat! Retreat! Get out of here!” Dick screamed over the comms. The kid shouldn’t be out in the first place, still recovering from a concussion. She rounded the corner. Victor Zsasz was pushing forward aggressively trying to circumvent Batman to get a stab at Robin. Dick was holding his own but kept taking hits for a dazed looking Damian.

“Get Robin and get out! Maneuver 23.” Barbara commanded. She was seconds away, Zsasz was too close, she wasn’t going to make it, not going to make it-

 “CATCH!” She complied, automatically responding to Barbara’s harsh tone, spreading her arms as the bike swerved right.

 “JUMP!” Damian appeared to do the same with Dick, who tackled Zsasz out of range.

 “FUCK!” She yelled, because Damian jumped right into the path of her oncoming bike and-

 They grasped each other’s wrists in a practiced motion, using momentum to swing Damian onto the backseat of the bike.

 “Holy fuck.” She whispered. Hadn’t expected that to work. Sure, they’d done it a billion times practicing, but like… damn. That was freaking awesome. But also-

 “Are you okay?” She turned to look back at a pale Damian, blood staining the right side of his uniform. He nodded curtly, she could see a sheen of sweat glistening under the streetlights. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts.

 “We cannot retreat, Batman needs backup! Turn around at once!” He demanded, swaying in his spot. On a motorcycle. She might die for this, but she turned around, pulled him closer (surprisingly without argument) and started applying pressure to his side. One hand on the wound, the other keeping him propped upright. Maybe she would die, but Damian would fall off over her dead body.

 “Yeah no, I’m just gonna try to keep your blood on the inside till we get to the Bunker.” She felt a raindrop plop on her forehead, all the more reason to keep on course. Damian was already injured and tired, she would not be the one responsible for making his situation worse. “Then you can bleed out in peace.”

  ��Stephanie sighed as she swirled milk and cocoa together on the stove, rain pattering steadily outside. Where would she be if she’d had a normal father, or a normal life? She had a standing invite to some party; she could be out with friends. But some little gremlin child would have been murdered by Zsasz blocks away and no. She wouldn’t trade Damian’s life for normality. She was Stephanie Brown after all, abnormal was her middle name, and she accepted it with pride.

 Sure, she wasn’t mixing alcoholic drinks right now, but she was mixing chocolate milk and that was close enough. Damian clomped up the stairs, and angrily settled at the table. Think of the gremlin, and he shall appear.

 “You shouldn’t have retreated.” He muttered, slumping in the seat. His cheeks were already flush from the exertion of walking up the steps.

 “And you should go to bed.” He glared at her, looking utterly nonthreatening in his pajamas. He was wearing one of Dick’s old t-shirts, oversized, draping down past his elbows. He must have his own clothes, but she’d never seen him sleep in anything else.

 “Then why are you preparing two mugs of hot chocolate?” He asked smugly. Well, as smugly as he could with twelve stitches in his side.

 “Because I know you won’t listen to me.” The grin was replaced with a frown. “But I don’t mind, that’s why I made enough for two.” She quickly continued. Damian stared ahead at a place on the table. She weighed her next words. They both knew fully well that he wouldn’t sleep until Dick made it home in one piece, and for that matter that she would either. Leaving Damian alone with his thoughts seemed cruel under the circumstances.

“You didn’t listen to me earlier.” He accused agitatedly, breaking the silence.

 “I don’t make a habit of listening to Robins.” She said with a smirk, attempting to lighten the mood. She carefully poured the steaming cocoa into the mugs, keenly aware of Damian’s eyes following her every move.

 “You listen to Gordon.” He pouted. She placed a mug in front of him and sat down across from him.

 “Most of the time, and she’s not a Robin. I don’t listen to you, Tim, or Dick, and certainly not Jason.”

 “Why not?” He challenged, not making a move to touch his mug, still glaring at her with a dark expression on his face. “You were a Robin, were you not? You think you’re above us-”

 “No, Dames, you gotta read the situation you know?” She took a long sip of cocoa. Damian crossed his arms. She sighed. “Look, if we always listened to Dick, he’d be dead already.” He nodded carefully. “Same thing with you and Tim.” His nose scrunched at the mention of Tim.

 “Don’t compare me to-”

 “Whatever it is, I’m not, I’m just saying, I’d be a lot happier if you weren’t shish kabobbed by Zsasz.” His brow furrowed. “Okay fine, I messed up, you probably would have been fine. We shouldn’t have retreated. But you were down, and we made a judgement call – not just me, Dick would rather die than-” Damian’s eyes went wide. “Poor choice of words, I take it back. He’s not going to die, he just…” God, what was she doing? What was she even trying to say?

 “I know you’re not worried, because you’re you, but if I was you, I would be worried, but I shouldn’t be worried, because Dick’s a badass, so he’ll be fine, and knowing that you’re safe will help him stay focused on the fight. So you’re helping by staying right here, yeah?” She leaned back against the seat. Smooth, real smooth.

 Damian’s lips were pursed by the end of her rambling. “I’m not worried.” She heard him mumble under his breath. He took a sip of cocoa. “Grayson is a competent fighter; he would not be so easily defeated.” She pretended not to hear his voice wobble slightly at the end. The poor kid.

 “He’ll be home any minute now.” She assured.

 “And he’ll yell at you for not making enough for him.” He added sagely.

 “Then he’ll yell at you for not being in bed.” Damian rolled his eyes.

 “I shall already be in bed by the time he makes it up the stairs.” So confident in his abilities. Dick probably let him think he got away with it.

 “Well, then he’ll anxiously pace outside of your room, and peak in to fuss over your stiches.” She predicted. Damian snorted, and took another sip of cocoa.

 “Damian, you could have been seriously hurt, you’ve got to be more careful!” He perfectly imitated Dick’s voice. Steph had to fight back laughter and swallow her cocoa. “Why did you give him sugar, it’s his bedtime?” He directed at her.

 “Robin, cease with the hot chocolate immediately.” She croaked out in a gravelly Batman impression.

 “Holy hot chocolate Batman!” Stephanie lost it as he did a perfect impression of Dick’s normal voice. Damian allowed himself a small smile.

 “Oh my God, you have to teach me how to do that.”

 “Are you sure you have the talent for it?” He asked smugly. She brushed off the comment. Smug Damian was better than sad and worried Damian.

 “Sure, also can you do Scooby-Doo?” Damian’s brow furrowed.

 “Who?”

 “What do you mean who!?” She half yelled. Damian flinched. “Okay, since we’re already up, you’re getting an education tonight, we’re moving to the couch, let’s go, move it people.”

   Two episodes later, Damian’s wide eyes still looked through the screen rather than at it. Not all things, she supposed, could be fixed with dumb cartoons and hot chocolate.

 “Brown?” He softly spoke, as the credits played.

 “Mm?” Silence resounded through the room. Whatever question Damian had died in his throat. “I’m sure he’ll be back any minute, he’s probably overseeing the trip to Arkham.” She guessed.

 “Yes.” Another pause. “He’ll be upset when he arrives home.”

 “He won’t be too upset.” Damian tucked his knees to his chest. “Everyone made it home safe.”

 “Father would have been angry.” She couldn’t deny that. Bruce was, well, Bruce.

 “But Dick isn’t Bruce.” She let the words hang in the air for a moment. “He was Robin too once, you know?” Dick got mad, heck, he killed the Joker like three days after she first met him. He’d been upset with her, for being Batgirl, but his anger wasn’t like Bruce’s, and it hadn’t lasted for long.

 “I know.” He turned to face her on the couch. “He’ll say he’s disappointed.”

 “Ah.” Her heart melted. “That’s always worse.” Damian rolled his eyes.

 “I’ve had worse punishments.” He paused. Damn the League. “But it’s… different.” Steph could sympathize.

 “My dad used to lock me in closets when he was mad.” Damian nodded.

 “I would too.” She groaned. Sometimes she was trying to have meaningful heartfelt conversations with a ten-year-old.

 “Brat. I’m trying to have a moment.” She complained. He fell silent, shrugging his shoulders, possibly as an attempt at an apology. “The point being my mom was always disappointed. And just because one sucked more than the other, didn’t mean both didn’t suck.”

 “Hmm.” Damian leaned back against the pillows. “But I had to do something, he was,” he paled slightly, his eyes widening, “Zsasz was going to kill children again.” He looked at her earnestly. “I couldn’t let him-”

 “Look, no one’s mad at you for trying to do something good. It’s just like… we worry about you, okay?” Damian rolled his eyes again.

 “No need I’m-”

 “You’re staying up until Dick gets back, want to remind me why that is?” He turned to face the rain smeared window. “It’s the same for him, and the same for me. We worry about you too, okay?”

 “You shouldn’t.” Damian muttered. “I’m perfectly capable on my own, I’m trained in twenty-”

 “Doesn’t matter how trained you are if you’re concussed.” She pointed out.

 “It didn’t matter if I was concussed in the League.” Assholes.

 “Well, this isn’t the League, and we care if you’re concussed.”

 “Whatever.” He fell silent after, gluing his eyes back to the screen in an attempt to block her out.

 “Just, let me know next time, and I’ll come with you.” Maybe she was imagining it, but she caught a minute nod.

 Carefully, she reached out, projecting her moves, and ruffled his hair. He didn’t seem much happier, some of the tension bled out of his shoulders. Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing, but whatever mediocre amount of comfort she could supply would have to be enough. She leaned back into her end of the couch, content to sit in silent companionship and let her mind wander off, no longer focused on the cartoon, but on a family forged in chaos.

   “M’ere bud, time for bed.” Someone whispered to her right. Cracking open her eyes slowly, the time on the television box read 3:28. Damian groggily groaned in protest next to her. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the vague outline of Dick sweeping a tired Damian (who was clearly feigning sleep) into his arms. “You should get some sleep too.” He hissed at her, as his footsteps padded away.

 She stretched out on the couch, four hours of sleep, that wasn’t too bad, but her neck was definitely stiff after that. She groaned, turning on the lamp next to her, shutting her eyes again and slowly allowing them to adjust to the light. Dick popped his head back into the doorway.

 “You need anything? The guest room has some spare clothes in your size, we have extra toothbrushes, you can use my shampoo if you want.” He rambled off. It was strange, she could never tell if he was being nice to make up for his initial rejection, or if that was just how he was.

 “Don’t be too hard on Damian.” She curled into her spot on the couch. Dick stepped forward into view, leaning against the doorframe. A pink bathrobe was draped over his shoulder, his wet hair dripping. He tiredly sunk against the wall.

 “I won’t be.” He slid into a squat, then all the way down to the floor. “Was he mad I followed him?”

 “Probably. I think he was more worried you wouldn’t come home.” Damian’s last experience with Zsasz had been… unpleasant. And the villain had carried a grudge ever since.

 “Oh. Sorry it took so long, Alfred kick you guys to bed or something?” She nodded. They’d been whisked out of the command room before she’d hardly tugged off her cape. No doubt Damian would have tried to leave again if they’d been listening on the comms.

 “You’re okay?” It was so weird. She was sitting on a couch, talking down to a cowl-less Batman in a pink bathrobe, sitting on the floor.

 “Fit as a fiddle.” He sneezed, as if on cue.

 “It’s raining pretty hard.” Her eyes flicked towards the window.

 “You don’t say.” He deadpanned, following her gaze. “It let up about an hour ago. Zsasz is back and Arkham, we found the kids he grabbed, I was trying to track down any relatives.” She nodded, Gotham’s foster care system was abysmal, and the social workers overbooked. Finding relatives could save a kid from ending up in a supervillain’s lair.

 “All’s well that ends well.” Dick sneezed again. “I could have helped.”

 “Babs and I had it under control.” She rolled her eyes, typical of the ‘big kids’ to leave her in the kiddies room. “Thank you for watching him.” He nodded at the empty mugs. “It was sweet of you to stick around.” Warmth swelled in her chest at the remark, she didn’t need his approval of course, but it was nice to have it.

 “Yeah well, cut him some slack for me yeah?” He opened his mouth to reply, then paused to cough for a bit.

 “I won’t be hard on him, but no patrol until his stiches heal.” He assured, regaining his composure.

 “I’m sure you won’t patrol until your cold’s passed.” She commented sarcastically. It would do the boys good to spend some time together anyways.

 “Did Babs put you up to this? I-”, sneeze, “told her I was fine. You guys are worse than Alfred.”

 “Nope.” She popped the p. “But I think your kid might feel a little bit guilty about tonight, and it wouldn’t hurt to stay in with him.”

 “He’s not my…” Dick stared up at the ceiling. Tucking his knees up to his chin, just the same as Damian, he went silent.

 “He’s your kid.” She said after a moment. Dick smiled ruefully.

 “He’s your kid too.” She snorted. He was like the little brother she’d never had, not that she’d admit it.

 “Not a chance, he’s all yours and Alfred’s. Babs and I don’t work with minors.” Aside from the times she had.

 “Mmmhmm. So that’s why you were drinking hot chocolate and watching cartoons with him, because he’s not your kid. I guess you don’t think of him as family” He sighed. “And to think, I was going to bring you to the aquarium with us tomorrow, but if we aren’t your family then why even-”

 “Woah, woah, woah. Let’s not go that far, I want to see him next to penguins-er I mean, I want to see the uhh... You know what nope, not ashamed, I want to see the look on his face at the touch tank.” She paused. “Aren’t you rewarding bad behavior with that though?”

 “Well, don’t worry about it, he’s my kid after all.” He chided smugly. “In all seriousness, I just want to distract him long enough he doesn’t go out again.” Another sneeze. “Jeez, stupid rain. Also, Babs is coming, it’s a party.”

 “You’re sure he won’t see it as a reward?” She wasn’t taking children’s psychology for nothing after all.

 “Nah, knowing him, he might take it as a punishment.” He closed his eyes, leaning back into the frame. “But, I try to keep capes and normal life separate, he’ll be grounded from patrol, but I won’t ground him during the day for stuff he pulls at night.” That seemed reasonable. “He’s been doing really well with homeschool.” He opened his eyes again, looking fondly at the opposite doorframe. “I think he’ll really like the aquarium, he’s been studying aquatic life recently and-”

 Dick mumbled on for a while, listing all Damian’s accomplishments, how he was multiple grade levels ahead, and scoring well in all the classes they made for him. How he could go on to do anything he wanted, was on track to take college courses by the time he was in high school, and how bright his future was. Again, she was glad her life wasn’t normal, as he rambled on and on, pride shining on his face.

 “He’s so your kid.” She interrupted after a coughing fit, having lost track of the conversation. Dick blinked at her. “Bedtime.” He nodded, sneezing halfway through.

 “Bedtime.”

  They didn’t make it to the aquarium, as predictably, Dick was running a fever by the morning. But that didn’t stop the party. Barbara brought soup, Alfred made cookies, and Steph settled on the couch next to Damian, picking up where they left off, marathoning Scooby Doo.

 Dick picked apart the episodes from his isolated recliner (they quarantined him three feet away), Damian chiming in to predict the villain’s identity. Barbara grumbled about normal people being easier to watch TV with, and Alfred settled in a chair by the door. If Cass were here, she’d bounce off the walls, and Tim would lie on the floor. Pieces were broken and missing, but as the remaining members of her pseudo-family chattered away, she had hope that things, eventually, would work out.

[occasionalstorytelling]

A slightly-belated fic written for Jason’s death anniversary. I just really wanted to write a story with autistic Jason, so here it is!

Summary: Jason Todd shows up at the Manor and asks if Alfred can spare some time for a chat. They head down to a coffee shop and settle in to talk. Jason has been thinking, and he wants to tell Alfred that he thinks he might be autistic, actually.

Word Count: 2,888

Read it here:

Damian wandered into the kitchen, where Alfred was finishing up cutting some apple slices for him. Damian took one, and crouched on a kitchen stool, balanced on his feet like some kind of bird of prey. Alfred was used to this behavior—it tended to be typical of Robins.

“Todd’s coming,” Damian shrugged in between apple bites.

“Really?” Alfred turned to the window. Lo and behold, Jason Todd was walking down the path to the Manor’s front door. With lightning speed, Alfred grabbed a medical kit from below the sink, then ran to the front door. He threw it open before Jason even made it all the way up the walk.

“Jason! Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Alfred was too panicked for formalities. The boy didn’t seem to be limping, and there were no visible bruises or cuts on him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. Alfred opened the kit, ready for whatever it was was.

“Yeah, Alf, I’m fine,” Jason winced. It didn’t take Alfred more than a few seconds to notice the wince was at Alfred, not out of any kind of pain or duress.

“You’re…that’s good to hear, then, Master Jason,” Alfred said, awkwardly closing the kit. He tucked it loosely under one arm.

“Guess I don’t, uh, visit that often,” Jason rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It’s good you’re not hurt. Is there something you need, then? Anything,” Alfred said. “Would you like to come inside?”

Jason looked up at the house, then down at the ground as if he was staring through the dirt right into the Batcave. “Don’t need anything. Just wanted to talk. Not inside, though.”

Alfred nodded. “I’ll fetch my coat.” He went inside, set the medical kit on a counter, and grabbed a coat and a hat. Then he went back outside to the front lawn, where Jason fidgeted nervously, still staring at the ground like he expected Batman to pop out of it at any moment.

They left the Manor grounds and walked into town. Alfred suggested a diner for a quick bite. Jason shook his head and suggested a coffee instead. They went to the nearest Jitters.

Alfred ordered a tea. Jason ordered a hot chocolate. They smiled awkwardly at each other then. Alfred paid, then joined Jason near the pickup counter to wait for the drinks.

“I don’t know why I said coffee,” Jason smiled, still awkward. “Neither of us drink it.”

“I’d wondered if your tastes had changed,” Alfred said fondly. “As I recall, you don’t drink soda, either. You’re still the only one of the boys who refuses.”

“So?” Jason shifted slightly, uncomfortable. “The bubbles go up my nose.”

“It’s healthier for you, anyway,” Alfred said. “If only Master Tim could be convinced to lower his caffeine intake, I’m sure we’d all feel a lot better.”

“Yeah,” Jason snorted. “Replacement’s the one who’s not…I mean,” Jason froze, sentence only halfway out. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, like he was trying to figure out how to say whatever it was he’d meant to say, but he eventually just trailed off and went quiet. They were saved from the awkwardness of the moment when the barista called “Pennyworth” and Alfred had to go retrieve their drinks.

“Shall we sit down?” Alfred asked.

Jason nodded. They found an empty table outside. Alfred took the seat with his back towards the street—another behavior typical of Robins was that they liked to be able to see their exit strategies. Not that Jason was a Robin, of course, but he was still Jason. Jason sipped his hot chocolate, and generally failed to make eye contact with Alfred.

“You’re looking well,” Alfred said.

“I’ve…been doing the thing you told me about,” Jason said, with just a slight flush of embarrassment in his cheeks.

“Which thing?” Alfred asked. He’d given Jason a lot of advice over the years.

“When you said it’s hard to take care of a Robin,” Jason said.

“I never meant that as a slight on you or any of the others,” Alfred said. “My sincerest apologies if—”

“No, no, I mean…um,” Jason took another sip of his drink while he figured out how to say it. “The self care thing. I’ve been…the thing about being gentle?”

“I’m not…sure what you’re referring to?” Alfred said.

“I’m the Robin,” Jason said, twisting his fingers in his lap. “I don’t have to…punish myself? You said that when I’m struggling with something, to pretend the thought or the idea or the thing or whatever is coming from my own Robin sidekick and deal with it like that. So I’ve been doing it.”

“Is it helping?” Alfred asked.

“Yeah,” Jason let out a relieved breath in a whoosh, at finally being understood. “It’s been really helpful. The other day, I bought a bunch of frozen mini corn dogs for him. Me? Me, I mean. I just…you know. I’m trying to…take care of myself.”

“That’s good to hear,” Alfred said. He sipped his tea. It was a little over-sugared, but Jitters tended to make all their drinks like that.

“And I was, um, researching on the internet about stuff too,” Jason said. “Self care stuff.”

“I’m proud of you,” Alfred said. “God knows Bruce needs to take better care of himself. I’m glad to hear you’re not following his poor example in that regard.” Alfred knew Jason very well, so he called Master Bruce simply “Bruce” to put Jason at ease, and he gave Jason praise that amounted to “you’re doing all right without Batman.” Jason always insisted he didn’t need to hear that, but the way he glowed after the praise…like he was glowing now. Jason took a long sip of his hot chocolate and relaxed enough to put his hands on the table.

“There was something else,” Jason said. “On the internet. That I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Please,” Alfred waved a hand. “You can talk to me about anything.” Admittedly, it had been some time since Jason had taken him up on the offer, but what better time than now to start changing that?

“I think I’m autistic,” Jason said. He stared at his drink when he spoke, but it came out smoothly, calmly, practiced. He’d practiced this conversation, Alfred realized.

“All right,” Alfred said. “Thank you for trusting me enough to say so. How can I support you?”

Jason laughed. “That’s what you said to Dick when he told you he liked boys, Alf.”

“The sentiment is no less true in this scenario, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “I am happy that you’ve…confided in me? Is that an appropriate term?”

“I guess so,” Jason shrugged. “It’s not a secret, I’m just not…not telling Bruce, and stuff.”

“Have you seen a doctor or a therapist?” Alfred asked.

“No,” Jason tensed. “I, uh, self-diagnosed. But plenty of people in online communities say it’s totally valid, and a diagnosis could only make my life worse, so—”

“Worse?” Alfred didn’t mean to interrupt, it just slipped out.

“Yeah,” Jason grit his teeth. “I mean, even if I wasn’t legally dead, it’s apparently really hard to get diagnosed officially as an adult, and even if I got a diagnosis it’s not like…I mean, it wouldn’t help, you know? It would be yet another excuse to get passed over in Bruce’s inheritance, and fired from jobs, and…stuff.”

“I understand,” Alfred nodded. “And you’re right. You don’t need a diagnosis to be valid. But, if I may…why tell me?”

“It just…seemed like something you tell people,” Jason fidgeted, cracking his knuckles over and over again. “Dick told you he likes boys, so…I’m telling you, this, I guess.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Alfred repeated. “I am…honored that you trust me with this. It’s clearly very personal.”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed. “I don’t know…I don’t know that there’s much you can do to support me, I just wanted you to know.”

“Talking is supporting,” Alfred said.

“Talking is supporting,” Jason repeated it with a smile. He took another sip of his hot chocolate. Alfred finished off his own cup of tea. They both watched people walk by along the busy streets of Gotham.

“And, I can’t tell Bruce, because he’ll think it’s more…you know,” Jason said, picking up the conversation as if there hadn’t been a pause.

“He’ll think it’s related to your death,” Alfred nodded, finishing the sentence.

“See? You’ll at least talk about it. Bruce won’t even say it…” Jason sighed. “But yeah. That’s kind of what I worried, too? Do you remember if I was always like this,” he gestured at himself, “before I died?”

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked. “Your hairstyle has certainly changed.”

“Like, my costume,” Jason said. “Um. I was researching…I think I’ve got a sensory processing thing. And that’s why I don’t like soda bubbles, and why I need a helmet that blocks out more distractions than just a mask, and why I can’t wear leggings.”

“You wore leggings for a significant period of time,” Alfred pointed out.

“I know,” Jason frowned. “I remember doing it. And I tried it again the other day, someone lent me a pair of fishnets to try on…but the feeling on my legs doesn’t go away. I can’t wear leggings or skinny jeans for more than ten minutes without feeling like I’m gonna go crazy.”

“I see,” Alfred said.

“So…I remember wearing leggings before, but I don’t remember how it felt,” Jason said. “What if…I don’t know, what if all of my autistic symptoms, traits, whatever, what if if is all after-effects of being dead?”

“Would that make it any less real?” Alfred asked.

“I guess not,” Jason huffed and leaned back in his seat. “But…I want to know.”

“You hated the leggings, even back then,” Alfred said, remembering. “But you were too stubborn to wear anything else on patrol, which meant that when you got back, you threw them on the floor and went around in your underwear, and I was the one who had to pick them up and wash them.”

“Okay, that I think I remember,” Jason smiled. “I remember Bruce telling me to put on pants because Selina was coming over, at least.”

“Your new costume is more comfortable, I hope?” Alfred asked.

“It’s heavier. It’s nice,” Jason said. “I like the weight. It’s grounding. And it’s looser…no more leggings and spandex. It’s comfortable.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Alfred said. “You know…it occurs to me, you were also very particular about your bedsheets. You only liked the ones with the purple flowers, even though Master Dick’s favorite were the ones with the little rocket ships.”

“The flowers were the only ones with the right texture,” Jason said. “Yeah…that’s still how I buy sheets. It doesn’t matter what color it is, so long as it’s soft enough that it’s not gonna distract me from sleeping.”

“Would that also be related to…sensory processing?” Alfred asked, trying to remember the phrase Jason had used.

“Yeah,” Jason nodded. “Same with picky eating. I mean…yeah. I don’t have a better word for it, but—”

“There doesn’t need to be a word for it,” Alfred said. “Your food preferences are individual to you, just like anyone else’s.”

“Bruce still thinks I eat like a little kid,” Jason mumbled. “He thinks it’s stupid. I can tell he does, even when he doesn’t say it.”

“If that is the case, we will simply not discuss it with him,” Alfred said.

“Yeah,” Jason said, relaxing slightly. “That would be the one thing I’d change, though. If I could, I mean. I’d want to be less picky. I’m sorry I didn’t eat much of those dinners you used to make.”

“I’m only sorry it took so long for me to adapt to your tastes,” Alfred shook his head sadly. “I remember you claiming not to be hungry one too many times…”

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me, it’s just you worked so hard—”

“Nonsense,” Alfred said. “You should have been mad at me. I should have provided.”

“Your mac and cheese was always delicious,” Jason said. “I make it for myself, like, once a week.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” Alfred smiled.

“There’s other stuff too though,” Jason said. “Other than sensory processing. I mean, I’m not making it up—”

“I never accused you of doing so,” Alfred said.

“I mean, I was looking at traits online…the thing about making scripts to talk to people? I do that all the time,” Jason said. “And I always get told that I’m too blunt and unreadable, and you know how I like to stick to my schedule, and I’m not really great at emotional regulation, and I can’t always tell when people are being sarcastic or trying to tell me something…I’ve been trying to relearn how to stim. I’m still not sure what masking is, but I think I’m doing it. Have been doing it? It’s…I got a spiky ball to play with, see?” Jason pulled a small, spiky stress ball out of his pocket. “And I got a chewable necklace so I could try to stop biting my fingernails…”

“Jason, I trust you,” Alfred said. “I believe you’ve done your research. You don’t need to convince me. If you say you’re autistic, I believe you.”

“Okay,” Jason said. “I just…you know. It’s weird, saying it out loud? It doesn’t feel real. But I also know it’s real, it’s my own brain and I know how it works, but…and Bruce would never understand, and I don’t really have—” Jason hesitated. Alfred hoped he hadn’t been about to say “I don’t really have any friends.”

“I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this,” Jason finished. “Online isn’t the same. I don’t…I want to talk to someone about it.”

“Talk to me about it,” Alfred said. “I’m happy you came to me. What were you saying about learning to stim?”

“Oh,” Jason said. “Well, now that I live alone, I can play a song out loud on repeat as many times as I want, you know? And I’ve been letting myself move more…I’ve seen the replacement do the flappy hand thing, and I’ve read about it online, and I don’t know if it’s really a thing I do or if I’m trying to copy it so I’ll feel more autistic—”

“It’s okay,” Alfred soothed. “Take a deep breath.”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed. “Sorry. I know I talk fast.”

“You talk at the perfect speed,” Alfred said. “You just seemed…anxious.”

“I keep picturing how Bruce would take it,” Jason fidgeted awkwardly, digging the spikes on the stress ball into his palm.

“Are you sure he’d take it poorly?” Alfred asked.

“I’m sure,” Jason snorted. “Either he’d tell me he doesn’t believe me and I’m not autistic, which would be no more emotionally devastating than anything else he does, I guess, or he’d act weird about it and walk on eggshells around me and constantly misunderstand my whole life, which is already how things are with him! Ugh,” Jason put his head down on the table.

“You don’t have to tell anyone you don’t want to,” Alfred said.

“I know,” Jason said. “But, like I said. Wanted to talk about it. Don’t have anyone. So.”

“Thank you for talking to me about it,” Alfred said. “I do appreciate your faith in me. Trust me—Master Bruce won’t hear a word of this from me.”

“I trust you, Alf,” Jason picked his head back up. “Thanks.”

“Is there anything in particular I can do to support you?” Alfred asked.

“Just this,” Jason said. “Thanks.”

“Would you like a hug?” Alfred asked.

“Yes,” Jason said, sniffling slightly. They hugged, and they both pretended not to notice that Jason was almost in tears with happy relief.

“So, uh, yeah,” Jason sniffed and sat back in his chair. He continued to fiddle with the spiky ball. “I guess that’s it. Wanna start walking back?”

“I am at your service,” Alfred said. They walked back to the Manor, and hugged one more time on the front step.

“If Bruce asks, this conversation didn’t happen. I did come here because I was injured, or something,” Jason said.

“My lips are sealed,” Alfred smiled.

“See you later,” Jason waved, and walked back down the path, heading back to wherever he lived. Tim had mentioned Jason had some kind of safe house near Crime Alley. Maybe he’d invite Alfred to see it sometime.

“What did Todd want?” Damian asked.

“Nothing in particular,” Alfred said.

“I ate the apple slices,” Damian said. “And we’re out of granola bars. I ate all the ones in the cabinet.”

“You’re a growing boy,” Alfred ruffled his hair, and Damian grudgingly allowed it before smoothing it back into place.

“Bye,” Damian said, and slipped off into the house like the little ninja he was. There was a soft chiming sound. Alfred looked at his phone. He had a message from a number he didn’t recognize.

Thanks for talking. Could we meet there again, same time next week?

Of course, Alfred texted back with a smile.

[red-hood-redemption]

SO I know I’m like, super late to the party, but I finally got my hands on Robin 2021 and there is literally no one for me to talk to about it so now I’m just screaming my thoughts into the void ✌

First off, before i even bought the first two issues, I read through a lot of other people’s opinions on it to kinda get an idea of where it was going characterization-wise for Damian, and because of all the mixed reactions, I figured I should just read it myself and find out. Now I am the FURTHEST thing from a comic book authority, so like, this is truly just an opinion piece but if it convinces anyone to give the run a chance, then yay!!! Honestly, I’m really glad I gave it a shot because I’m genuinely hooked! I’m actually excited about this series (and it scares me lol)!!!

I'm gonna separate my thoughts into two sections: characters, and story, mainly for my own ease, but also if anyone cares more about one thing or the other it's easier to distinguish. But,  the line is a little blurry so if I end up getting a little too much into the characterization in the story section, just bear with me lmao. OH and I'm going to try and keep this as un-spoilery as possible but we'll just have to see. SOOOOOOOO

Characters

I think it goes without saying that Melnikov's art is absolutely gorgeous, and really does show how much Damian has grown up. It makes me want to sob its so beautiful, everyone is so pretty, even the guy that looks like a washed up, high as fuck Tony Stark lmao. But moving on to the actual characters,

Rose Wilson

I honestly don't know too much about Rose, I haven't read enough about her to say anything about her characterization and how it compares to her other appearances, or whether or not she is OOC, but so far, I'm enjoying her taking up the "big sis" role, like, immediately lmao.

I don't know how much I trust her yet, but I definitely get the vibe that even if she does betray Dami in any way, she's probably gonna stick her neck out for Dami again and he's probably gonna do the same.

I'm really intrigued about her motivations for being here. Obviously, Respawn has something to do with it, but I want to know what's up with that. I've seen a lot of theories and I'm so excited. Also side note, that Black Swan chick is hot, and I can't wait to see more of her in action!!!

I feel like Ravager knows a WHOLE lot more than Dami does about the interesting things going on on the island, mainly because she's been doing a lot more sitting and waiting than he has as of yet, but I'm hoping to see more of the two of them doing detective-y sleuthing together. We love a mysteryyyy

Flatline

Okay but real talk, why does she look like a character straight out of Monster High

Honestly tho, I dig it. It's cute! She's cute! She isn't annoying (yet) but I don't know if I care too much about her other than she would make a cute friend for Dami.

I think the problem with DC is that they know people LOVE Harley Quinn and they try so hard to make characters just like her but it always falls short, so honestly I am a little wary of her character development in this run, but I'm willing to give her a shot since her little coffin purse on the cover of the second issue is so damn cute. I'm a slut for character design, okay?

Oh speaking of Flatline and Dami, I don't ship it and I don't want them to force a romantic relationship into Damian's "coming of age"/"soul-searching" moment okay? Because that's what this run is about, at least to me! More on that in the story section!

They're literally 13/14 years old. That's 8th-9th grade, babes lets think about that for a minute

Also let's stop the whole "lets introduce a female character just to make her a love interest!" bullshit okay?

Basically, Flatline is interesting, or at least has the potential to be, but I don't want to get my hopes up because DC is notorious for disservicing their female characters 😕

I think the mixed reaction to her is valid, I don't think she's had much time to make a solid impression yet, so I guess you'd have to read it for yourself. Personally, I don't understand why people immediately hate her, especially because she's like, 14, and what kid that age isn't annoying? like at least a little bit lmao! But, yeah. I don't trust her either but literally everyone on this island is sketchy at least and a murderer at best, so hey 🤷‍♀️

Damian

His new outfit lmaoooo at first I was like "WHaT is this child wearing? You'd think Dick would have rubbed off on him and taught him what good taste looks like" but then I saw the later outfit, with the gold patterning and those sleeeevessssss ugh and I take it all back. A Fashion Icon TM. Truly stunning. A sight to behold. So proud, look at him go 😪

I think there's a lot of different opinions on Damian's characterization in this run, and I can definitely see where its coming from, but I disagree with the notion that Damian has been done dirty and reverted to a blood-thirsty, feral child.  And I have a LOT of opinions on the whole "feral" thing regarding Damian period (but that's for another time).

I don't think of Dami's rampage as a regression for his character. He's letting of emotions right then and I think its very similar to him venting. Its just not verbal, its physical and he knows he's not going to have to grapple with the consequences of his actions on the first kill. He knows he's technically not doing anything wrong.

He is clearly upset at Bruce and his failure to protect Alfred, and while Dami and Bruce are really often described as being very similar personality-wise, they are still distinctly different individuals who came to their current moral codes in vastly different ways. Bruce came to his "no killing" rule on his own; he made that decision for himself. It wasn't taught to him, it was a moment-of-truth kind of situation. Damian, on the other hand is in a vastly different situation.

Dami is, I think, at the beginning of the climb to his own moment-of-truth. He is in his rebellious phase like Dick, where he's gone off to spread his wings. It's not his conscious intention (at least that's not the vibe I got from reading the first two issues), but its directly underlying his "mission".

Damian is growing out of the expectations of his parents and into his own person. We all know he's been thrown from one moral code to another, both drastically different from each other. I don't think its a regression for him to lose his way a little, because realistically, he's going to have to in order to find it, specifically a moral compass that he forged on his own. He's just what? 14? Like hell a kid his age wants to listen to any form of authority. He's as stubborn as it comes. Damian needs to come to his decision regarding the path he takes in life on his own. It can't be made for him. He's seen and lived both sides of the coin, and I don't think he should be forced just yet to choose a side or pave a middle ground, but I do think that he should get the opportunity to see and experience all the gray areas on his own.

I think I'll transition from characterization to story here, because let's face it, this story is about Damian dealing with his confused emotions right now, in the wake of losing Alfred, a man that kind of acted like a grounding presence, a voice of reason, or a moral compass for him (and honestly Bruce and the rest of the bat crew if we're honest).

Story

So there's a lottttt going on in the story that is really enticing and exciting, and I'm really interested to see how it all plays out.

All the rules to the tournament are so, sketchy? Like they don't sound like they are meant to be sketchy, its basic safety and guidelines or whatever but with all the glowy green shit and the stakes of the tournament? Yeah, you can bet your ass its the "no fighting at night" and other shit is gonna be broken, and that's likely when the fun begins *insert evil laughter*😈

I was slightly put off by the whole "let me teach you to have fun" thing with Rose, because it's not like Dick, Steph, Jon, and like the Titans haven't done that with him too, but eh, not something I'm too concerned about. It's definitely just a segway to get us introduced to more characters that might become Damian's friends which will be interesting considering what Mother Soul said about fraternizing.

And that's another thing! I want Damian to make some friends! I know he already has some, but here's the thing: I think he's already been struggling with belonging, and he's definitely been feeling the disconnect between his life and other kids', whether they're supers/vigilantes or not. I think it'd be nice to see Dami have the experience of meeting people who he at first thinks are just like him!! and then realizing that maybe he doesn't really fit in here either, and that it's okay to feel like you don't belong, as isolating as it may feel at times. It just means you have a set of values. I want him to realize that its not always a bad thing, and you learn more about yourself and your own heart this way.

And from there,,, lets talk about the thing that stuck out to me the most in these two issues! GUILT!! It's mentioned SOO many times already, and I think its going to be a really fun, heartbreaking, and interesting aspect to explore about Damian. Is it guilt about his actions? Leaving behind family? Not being able to save Alfred? Not being a perfect example of Robin? He may call himself Robin but he doesn't sport the OG look or symbol like before. I love that his guilt takes on the form of Alfred though, or at least his conscious. I think it'd be really interesting to see this conscious disappear when Dami strays too far from his center, and when he finds it again, it reappears.

I really think that seeing Damian's actions in this run as a failure of character development is an unfair assessment, though. You can't do everything right in order to grow! You have to screw up, lose your way, experiment with life to find your fit, right?

Something tells me he doesn’t care for the tournament itself, but the end result, and the people behind it and more about WHY it was hidden from him. I mean he finds out the tournament TRULY begins once everyone has died once and tHEN he kill everyone? Felt to me less like a “killing spree” as everyone put it to a calculated decision to get the tournament going. He literally cuts Mother Soul off in the middle of her speaking to start fighting at the beginning

Anyway, just my thoughts lol. I do have some issues with the past two issues, and I might make a separate post about that, but honestly not enough for me to dislike Robin 2021 so far. I mean, besides the very obvious white-washing in the second issue, because DC can absolutely do better. And they should. It’s like they thought we wouldn’t notice???? But besides that, story and characterization-wise I’m looking forward to more. Here’s to hoping it stays that way, just with a better colorist!

[batfam-rewrites]

Batfam During Quarantine: Training Day

Thanks so much for the amount of love the last post got!I’m sorry it took me so long to post this next one, school and other stuff started to get in the way, so to make up for it I added a surprise arc at the end. I might start doing theses in chunks to save time and fill in any gaps where I don’t post as much because of school. Not so sure yet but it’s just an idea. I hope that if you read this you enjoyed it! I am going to try and post more frequently now that I’m almost caught up with my school work.

Damian: Good morning Tim! I made you breakfast.

Tim: What do you know? Why are you calling me Tim?

Cassandra: Plus three large hot cups of coffee.

Tim: What’s going on? Why are you guys acting so weird?

Cassandra: No reason. Just want to be nice.

Tim: Nope. That’s not it. What did you guys do.

Jason: Done making Tim’s bed! I’m off to steam his suit!

Tim: WHAT THE SHIT IS GOING ON???

Cassandra, Damian, and Jason: *in unison* We just want to be nice. *all three surround him in a big hug*

Tim: THIS IS SO WEIRD!

Dick: *walks into the breakfast room* Morning Tim! How’s it going?

Tim: NO! ALL OF YOU LEAVE ME ALONE! *storms out of the breakfast room*

Dick: What did you do to Tim?

Jason: We have no idea.

Damian: The dude is losing it.

Dick: *gets face to face with Cassandra* Cass, do you have something to say?

Cassandra: We woke up early and decided to be nice to Tim for no reason.

Dick: You guys are evil. Go have your fun.

All three run out of the room.

Jason: TIM LET US LOVE YOU!!!!!!

Daily Briefing

Dick: Hey, Babs doesn’t know your here. I don’t want her to get jealous or something so could you please join the zoom call from another room.

Helena: Sure, I understand, lover.

Dick: No, we aren’t going through that again.

Helena: I make no promises.

Tim: You know you’re going to be in deep shit when Barbara finds out, right?

Dick: I’m in deep shit anyway.

Tim: Very true.

Dick: *begins the zoom call* Hey everyone, so if you can’t tell, Huntress has arrived to help out. Now, to everyone at the manor I created a schedule for when to work out. They should be completed before patrol. For those of you at home, I trust that you made your own.

Barbara: Yep!

Kate: Please, I’ve been training much harder than most of you guys since I was 6.

Harper: Yeah, sorta did. Not able to do much because I’m not at the cave.

Dick: That actually leads me to my next point. Harper I made a schedule for you because Bruce, Alfred, Selina, and I found a way to have Cullen inside the mansion without him finding out who Batman really is. Cullen already knows the alter egos of Red Robin, Spoiler, Orphan, and Nightwing. Everyone else is a question mark, so we will allow you to enter the mansion. When Cullen is around, we all will have to restrain from talking about our vigilante work. Have everything ready by next week. Once you arrive you’ll have to quarantine in your room for two weeks.

Harper: Awesome!

Dick: Today there has actually been no crime in Gotham City, so far, so we’ll take a day off, but if something comes up, cases will be assigned as they normally are. So everyone, after training, feel free to relax but be ready in case something pops up.

Dick and Jason

Dick: *turns on his training playlist, first song being “Devil in I” from Slipknot*

Jason: You know what, if this is the kind of stuff you have on your playlist, I might actually enjoy training with you!

Dick: I have 357 songs on here.

Jason: Damn!

Dick: What did you expect, I listen to every genre!

Jason: Really! I should actually start listening whenever people talk.

Dick: Remember that next time Bruce yells at you for shooting someone.

Jason: I’m just saying, if I mistake someone’s knee cap for their head, is it really that bad?

Dick: *laughs* Yes!

The two stretch a bit before moving on to pommel horse.

Dick: Figured you’d want to get this out of the way first.

Jason: Fuck you!

Dick: Just think of the music, and not falling.

Jason: *goes for a loop on pommel horse and bangs his legs against the pommels and falls* AHHHHHHH!

Dick: Maybe I should take pommels off first?

Jason: That’s an option? Then yes, please do so!

Dick: *quickly takes of the pommels then goes for a magyar, a triple russian, flare, spindle, press handstand one and a half piro, and flawlessly sticks his dismount*

Jason: Show off.

Duke and Damian

Dick and Jason had been training for an hour and fifteen minutes before Duke and Damian walked in. After stretching, the two began to spar.

Dick: Duke! You made a mistake when choosing your partner.

Jason: Nah! My boy Duke will show Dami who’s the boss.

Duke: I honestly like my chances!

Damian: Good Thomas, your over confidence will be your doom!

The two begin to fight. Damian dives right for Duke, rolling out and uses his momentum to go for a front flip and kick Duke in the chest, however Duke evades Damian’s strike and trips him after Damian lands.  Damian gets back up though, thrashing at Duke. Duke dodges each strike and finally jabs Damian in the gut a few times and kicks him in the chest. That would be the only fight out of the three they had that Duke won. 

Afterwards, Dick began to teach him the basics on both high bar. Duke was able to catch on very quickly and by the end of his training on high bar he was learning how to do kips and flyaways. Dick and Duke also decided to tumble together so Duke could learn the basics and some advanced skills too.

Damian spent the rest of his time trying to out do Jason. When Jason was using 100 lb weights, Damian would use 120′s. When Jason ran 5 miles, Damian ran 6. 

Jason: Dami, you’re going to be extremely sore. Take it easy.

Damian: Easy? *huff* Let me *huff* remind you that *huff* I was also trained *huff* by the League *huff* of Assassins. *runs to the garbage to throw up* I am superior *huff* than all of *huff* you in every way.

Jason: Okay bud. Well, I’m about to spar with Dick.

Damian: I’ll fight Grayson, too. *jogs up to Dick while moaning in pain* *huff* Fight me Grayson. *huff*

Dick: I’m not going to fight you. You look like you’ll pass out.

Damian: I’m *huff* fine.

Dick: Throw a punch at me like you normally would without groaning in pain.

Damian: *starts to punch but his fist his Dick like a soft tap* Ahhhhhh.

Dick: Go rest, take an ice bath, eat a lot of fruits, and drink a lot of water.

Damian: Okay, *huff* but only because *huff* you said so.

Dick and Jason then started to fight and after they concluded, Dick took the trash bag that Damian hurled in and tossed it out. An hour later Duke concluded his workout.

Cassandra and Julia

Cassandra: Woooo! Are you ready?

Julia: Your enthusiasm is a little bit concerning.

Cassandra: Yeah, but just deal with it.

Since she arrived to the mansion Julia has not let herself stop her routine. She has been training as much as she has been since her days in Britain's Special Reconnaissance Regiment. However as soon as she saw Cassandra doing freestanding handstand push-ups while doing an inverted crunch, she knew she had to up her game.

Cassandra just ignored the list Dick gave her for the most part and did the craziest exercises she could think of. When she started strength conditioning, she ran to the still rings and tried to do what she saw Dick doing once. She tried an azarian to an iron cross but immediately fell through the rings. it took her twenty minutes but she finally made it to the iron cross and rolled backwards into a planche. An hour later she finish conditioning and waited for Julia to finish so the two could spar.

Julia: Okay, you ready? *walking over from the treadmill*

Cassandra: More than ready! Lets do this! *she started bouncing on her toes like a boxer*

Cassandra won all three fights within a matter of minutes. Julia almost had a chance in the second one where Cassandra lost her balance, but she reacted too slow as Cassandra regained it and knocked Julia to the floor.

Selina and Helena

Selina focused more on her agility during her cardio workout than anything else. I mean, it’s definitely something that she takes pride in so why wouldn’t she?

Helena: Hey, can I ask you a question? *throwing punches toward Selina*

Selina: Sure! *dodges each strike, jumps off the wall, and dives over Helena’s head*

Helena: What’s the situation between Dick and Barbara? *grabs Selina’s torso and slams her body down*

Selina: Oof. *gets back up from the floor and sits down with Helena* Don’t think of it. Dick is all sad that he has to stay at the mansion without Barbara. I wouldn’t even try to approach Dick about the situation because he’ll act even more weird then when you arrived.

Helena: That explains this morning.

Selina: What happened?

Helena: I said hey and he replied with “Hey, what’s up, gir......friend, lady. Girl who is a friend and a lady. Saved it.” Then, just for fun, I pinched his ass and he jumped up and screamed. 

Selina: You’re playing with fire, I don’t blame you for pinching his ass though.

Helena: Hold on, it gets better. After that I leaned towards him and he started leaning over the table and asked, what’s wrong lover. He then stepped to the side and said “Nothing, nothing.” and started walking backwards saying “coolcoolcool” until he reached the door.

Selina: Why bother messing with his head?

Helena: Because it’s fun. Plus I still feel like there is something there. 

Selina: Very well. Now that you have that out of your system let’s head to the showers.

Helena: You won’t tell Dick, right?

Selina: What you just told me is between you and Dick. I will not interfere in any way.

Stephanie and Tim

Tim: *walks in tired as hell* Hey Steph. You ready?

Stephanie: Yeah!

Tim: Alright. Cool.

Both Stephanie and Tim go to do their separate training regimes. Tim however, being extremely tired started to move very slow during his workout. Halfway through his work out he stepped out to grab a five hour energy shot and started flying through his conditioning list that Dick made. 

Tim: You ready to spar? *jumping around like a rabbit, then lands sideways, falling to the floor only to get back up*

Stephanie: *looking at Tim like he’s a crackhead* No, I think we should skip the sparring match today.

Tim: No, come on let’s go! *grabs Stephanie's wrist and drags her over to the sparring arena*

Stephanie: Tim your going to hurt yourself. Instead of sparring let’s take a nap.

Tim: Come on, sleeping is for people who have don’t have tragic backstories. Let’s fight!

Tim tries to throw a few quick jabs but Stephanie quickly sweeps Tim’s legs causing him to fall. Stephanie Runs forward pointing her fist at his throat.

Tim: Owww! That’s abuse! You abused myself! Why are you mean?!

Stephanie: Tim, when was the last time you slept?

Tim: Ummmmm........... Tuesday?

Stephanie: Okay, training is over, go let yourself rest.

Tim: Pffft. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. 

Stephanie: Okay. *text Dick* Hey Dick, we have a code yellow.

Dick: *text back* On my way up.

Tim: You know I like to live by the words of the Beastie Boys anyway. No sleep ‘til Brooklyn, and because I have never been to Brooklyn, I am not obligated to sleep.

Stephanie: You have a problem!

Tim: No, *points his finger dramatically at Stephanie*  you have a problem.

Dick: *walks in* Hey Tim, I have a case I want to work on with you.

Tim: *to Stephanie* See, now I can’t sleep.

Dick: We’ll take the Batmobile.

*3 hours later*

Dick: Okay, we just entered Brooklyn. Now go to sleep!

Tim: No fair, you tricked my brain.

Dick: SLEEEEEEEEP!

Tim: NO!

Dick: Why are you staying up all night?

Tim: Because, I don’t want anything to change! *starts sobbing*

Dick: It’s okay, you’re alright. *pulls over to the side of the road*

Tim: No I’m not. Everything is changing and I don’t want it to. I don’t want to fall out of my habits because what about when things get back to normal. Then we have to build those habits again, and what if while we are readjusting someone dies because we weren’t ready. Plus, there is so much stress with helping Bruce keep his company from falling, trying to finish my homework, training, and patrolling the nights where there is more activity. 

Dick: *embraces Tim in his arms* Look change is going to happen whether we like it or not. It’s not what happens that shapes who we are but how we react to the changes that occur in our lives that do. The world is never going to be the same after this pandemic is over, so you could either adapt, or repeat your mistakes. It’s okay to not be okay. You are not alone, you have all of us at the mansion to talk to. Another thing that you have to keep in mind is that people are going to die. We both knew that the moment we signed up, and sometimes there is nothing we can do about it. All we can do is learn from what happened to stop it from happening again. You also need to get some sleep. I know you are under a lot of stress right now, not going to lie, but you have it worse than all of us right now, but how do you expect to save others if you won’t take care of yourself. 

Tim: *starts calming down*

Dick: I’ll talk to Bruce tonight to see if he could cut you some slack. I’ll find a way to help out too now that we aren’t patrolling as much. Just make sure to take care of yourself.

Tim: Okay.

Dick: Smart, toit.

Tim: Stop it Peralta. *begins to laugh*

Dick: *laughs pretty hard* Now get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get back to Gotham.

Tim: Okay. I guess.

Black Mask, Hush, Two-Face, and Jason Bard

The night was very silent as Roman Sionis looked upon Gotham from the building. It was quiet, empty, peaceful, and disturbing. Hush walked into the room, followed by Harvey Dent and Jason Bard.

Black Mask: Congratulations, you found your way here.

Jason Bard: You’re pretty easy to find when you want to be.

Black Mask: Or is it because no one else is on the street other then your snitches.

Jason Bard:......

Hush: You called us here. What do you want?

Black Mask: Look out at the city. Tell me what do you see.

The three men walk forward towards the window.

Two-Face: Fear.

Hush: Silence.

Jason Bard: Caution, and paranoia.

Black Mask: You are all correct, but you missed one thing.

Two-Face: Stop playing games! What do you want us to see?

Black Mask: Opportunity.

[iphoenixrising]

hey we haven’t heard anything from you in a while. everything good? How’s life treating you? All my love for one of my favorite batfam writers!💗💗💗

Hi babe.

Ah sorry, I’ve been super busy at work and with kiddo :( I mean, I’m still writing when I can, but it’s just time and motivation. My project has really taken off (reads as: expanded) and most nights I’m chipping away at the massive amount of documentation for not only a Java-based framework, but an entire Platform *sob* So, it’s just such a huge amount of old articles and brainstorming sessions and meeting minutes and just ugh. I mean, it’s kind of interesting to try tracking all these things down and figuring out how they’re going to work together since the developers (from 12 to 50-ish, my God and now they want me to read markdown and do pull requests for comments and shit because this is my fucking life) are still working on the platform services, the development environment, and all these fucking tools I’ve never heard of (Kubernetes, wtf is this thing??) so I’m learning a foreign language almost tbh.

Did I mention *sigh*?

ANYWAY, also some of the things I’m working on that are like Batfam are a little more...I dunno, just things that a bit harder for me I guess, but even if I write just a sentence or two, I still count it as a win.

But like...I said something about a Sentinel / Guide Au, and even though I’m at what would be a good stopping point, I’m not very happy with it :/ So, if you’d like to see kind of what I’ve been doing, I’m going to throw down what I’ve got below the cut. 

Warnings: 

DickTim, Angst

Sentinel/Guide Au

**

After he brings B back from time, send the Dark Knight back to Gotham, he gives in to things long overdue, and trains with Shiva–

–to be an effective Guide.

Years of suppressants made it literally hell without them, trying to keep his shields up, trying to push out the telepathic traffic suffocating him the second he opens up just a crack.

Shiva, of course, had been her cheerfully murderous self, plying him with the full onslaught of a powerful Sentinel.

"You will be drawn to us from now on, Little Bird. You will want to protect us, bring us back from the abyss. If you choose to allow your powers as a Guide rein free, then you must learn to fight against the urges."

The fucked-up part is–

–she's right.

If he wants to stay in the life, wear the cape and cowl under the new name, go back to the Titans (since they've been looking for him again, fly-bys and searches for his tech), then he needs to learn how to deal with what he can do and how to deal with the instincts that come along for the ride.

It's not enough that Shiva is in the middle of hunting down a few former students ("They have made...the wrong choices." 

"That's rich coming from you, you know."

"We all have a code, Little Bird, and I am no different.")

but they managed to run into a few other Sentinels along the way.

He'd like to say he'd taken his ass beating like a pro at this juncture in the vigilante game, but the reality is, they'd had to take shelter in a shitty lean-to, so he could be tragically, metaphysically hung-over.

He gives up the cowl and suit, utility belt and sundries. He goes as a wrecked teenage American boy, changing it up from the last time he trekked behind Lady Shiva and took on her adversaries. He tries not to think about Dick or Jason, Dami or Alfred, tries not to think about the confused look on B's face in his safe house, drying his hair after a long shower, trying to readjust to the current timeline.

("You aren't going back to Gotham?"

"I still have things to do."

"...there's something you aren't telling me."

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

"Come to me when you're ready, Tim. No matter what, you're always going to be one of my Robins.")

Instead, he learns how to keep himself, and the Sentinels around him, safe and sane while trying to stay two steps ahead of the next fight, the next clue, the next "training."

In Shanghai a few months later, he knows it's time to move on when people part ways for the brightly clad superheroes coming en-masse down the packed street for him.

Well, moving on it is.

Going back to the Tower, away from the Bats and Gotham and the Rogue Gallery (thinking about facing the Joker this raw and open is fucking terrifying), was the best he was going to get considering the circumstances.

Those circumstances being the pointed twitch over Kon's eye and Bart's very intense gaze.

"You were supposed to call, asshole. The OG Batman has been back in Gotham for like months and you've just been, you know, chilling with Lady Shiva?"

Tim, who is so out of bullshit at this juncture, feels better after a hot shower and some old sweats with a Superboy t-shirt, throws up his fucking hands.

"All right, fine. I never told anyone. I...I've been on suppressants since I was a kid, just like my mom. Guides..."

"It's not that bad anymore!" Cassie tries helplessly, the first to actually reach across the table for his hand.

The instant connection makes them both gasp. It’s a shallow one, just a dip under her natural shield (he knows it’s Cissy, the Guide that’s been helping her until now, bringing her back whenever she hits a Zone, recognizes the touch of their Arrowette), just a skim over her immediate emotions  this thing now untried and how utterly calm he makes her just by hands lightly placed. 

"O-ooh," is soft while his fingers tighten, his eyes sharpen, his shields constructing around her, his instinct to protect.

"Not necessary," Gar chimes in, still leaning against the door between the kitchen and communal entertainment room, "we're all good in the Tower, T."

Is what shakes him out of it, hastily pulling away from Cassie's hand.

"Wow." Wonder Girl breathes out, eyes soft and half-mast, looking at him dreamily.

"Nope." Because he can already feel the headache coming on, how her hand tries to grab back at his.

“We could fight better together, Tim!”

“Do you even know how strong a Guide has to be to take care of four Sentinels?”

In one terribly creepy singular move, Bart, Kon, Gar, and Cassie give him that look.

You know, aimed at his face.

"No one," Bart cuts in, eyes wide at the exchange, of Tim's aura warm and inviting suddenly stronger, reaching out... "Tim, T. No one has to know."

The flash of fear, a residual from the tunic, makes him hedge back a subtle step back.

Kon pointedly grips him by the bicep, over his shirt while Bart moves enough that his shoulder bumps into Tim’s ribs, halting the possible escape attempt.

“Okay, okay, backing off. New powers are about a bitch, not like we all haven’t been there once or twice.” Kon soothes over, taking small steps and tugging until Tim is moving with him closer to the communal kitchen where his seat is empty at the island, and they can possibly get proof the guy actually eats.

“Amen,” Cassie throws up a hand and is already digging through the fridge until she finds–

–the last grape Zesti.

Tim’s eyes narrow dangerously on that singular can, his body moving before his brain can take over because he’s sliding on his old chair, the can cold against his fingers, too thirsty for caffeine that he can’t even.

Sure, it’s a trap, but with these guys, at least he knows it.

“I’m very not ready to do anything remotely Guide-like in the field,” the soft ca-saaaa as the can opens. “You want me to sleuth, fight, and strategize, then I’m all for it.”

Bart is just suddenly in Kon’s usual seat beside him, spinning around in tight, fast circles, “you mean you’re thinking about coming back? To the life?” 

“Dude, that would be stellar.”

Tim side-eyes his besties, “it was never in the plan to-to stop.”

“Can’t blame us for assuming, you know,” Gar grins toothily, “no Red Robin for a while, my dude.”

Tim goes quiet, staring down at the can between his hands, shoulders hunched over.

“At least,” Raven’s voice is smooth and soft, comforting, “tell us why now, Tim?”

“Why now?”

“Why begin training as a Guide now?” She clarifies, sliding into the seat across from her, and the coolness of her aura, not a Sentinel, but something purely Raven puts his frayed nerves at ease, makes it easier for him to find the words.

“I turned 18,” and he can’t look at them while he admits to it, “and...and I figured out who my Sentinel is after Ra’s kicked me out the window.” (I was fine going out that way. It was fine. I was saving Wayne Enterprises from the League of Assassins, I was fighting the good fight. It shouldn’t have happened that way...why did it have to happen that way?)

“Oh,” and Cassie’s eyes get huge.

“Ra’s al Ghul is your Sentinel?!” Bart fairly screams.

“No dude,” Tim rolls his eyes and finds his can suddenly fascinating. “It’s...Dick. He’s...yeah. It’s him.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Kon hurries, standing shock-still, “I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Not him,” Bart is gritting his teeth because dammit, why couldn’t Tim have been his Guide? The universe was totally, wholly unfair.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw flexes, his nose pinkening along his upper cheekbones. He blinks watery eyes, takes a deep, deep breath to try and keep himself under control. 

“Yeah,” and Tim sighs a little, the ache in his chest more acutely painful when he thinks about that moment waking up in the Cave, Dick in the Batsuit without the cape/cowl combo smiling down at him, still painfully unaware of the connection drawn tight between them.

(He doesn’t need me. He’s got Babs and Dami. His Guide and his Robin.)

Getting the absolute fuck out of the Manor had been his first order of business once he’d come to, just sprouting whatever placating bullshit Dick needed to hear to let him go without much of a fight (this time).

Finding Bruce and staying the hell out of Gotham hadn’t helped the pull he inexplicably felt, or the pressure of minds around him that had sent him to Shiva in the first damn place. His Guide abilities were overcoming the suppressants, so he was out of time...and out of options. 

Still, even with the training, he occasionally has the dreams at night. Not the usual array of awful nightmares from his real life, Jason shooting him in the chest at point-blank to make sure the job gets done this time, Bruce dying right before his eyes, turning into that skeleton husk Superman brought to them thinking it was the real thing, Damian sneering at him with the katana held high, spitting out how it’s time the real Robin took his rightful place just before bringing the blade down–

No, no, it’s even worse than those.

It’s shadowy hands touching him, the warm wet of a mouth over his skin and scars, gentle voice in his ear telling him how beautiful he is, how much he’s needed, wanted, how it’s not just because of what he is or what tunic he used to wear, it’s all because he’s Tim. He doesn’t wake up when his dream self realizes it’s Dick over him, those blue eyes taking him in, pinning his wrists down to look over every inch of his naked body. He doesn’t wake up when Dick starts preparing him. He doesn’t wake up when Dick kisses him hard and desperate. He doesn’t wake up when the tears dry on his face and their bodies line up.

“Mine,” his dream Sentinel doesn’t even hesitate, “Don’t ever run from me again. Do you understand me, Tim?”

Just before Dick pushes, he wakes up, panting and hard, his instincts going crazy enough that he has to meditate to calm down.

Cassie gently wraps her hand around his shoulder, making sure they don’t have skin-to-skin contact this time. “I’m sorry,” she smiles gently at his frown, “I know you and Dick have had some...issues in the past few years.” But he can read the guilt in her face. Back when everyone thought Bruce was dead and his cape had been yanked out from under him, Dick had sent Cassie to try talking some “sense” into him. She still feels awful for jumping on the same train everyone else had been riding, the ‘that guy is suffering from depression’ instead of believing he might actually be right. 

(It still stings though, doesn’t it?)

He doesn’t say anything back, just looks out one of the big windows and pulls out of her hold to take a drink of his Zesti.

“But,” Gar quickly jumps in, “you’ll stay in the Tower and fight on the team again, right? Like, no more trips with World’s Deadliest Assassins?”

Tim visibly hesitates, pausing with the can up to his mouth. 

Slowly, he lowers it, his eyes taking on a cold calculation that is and isn’t like their old Rob. “Like I said, I can’t be a Guide for anyone, and I mean that. Second, I told you the truth in confidence, so I expect everyone to keep my secret. Third, I’m not anywhere near ready to go to Gotham or face the Bats, so for now, I’m fighting under the radar. If those aren’t acceptable stipulations, I’ll grab some of my clothes from storage and be out of your Tower.”

“Storage?” Kon glances around at the team, “Tim, buddy, why do you think we’d have your stuff in storage?”

“I assumed Dick would already approach you about making Damian part of the team,” his tone is absolutely empty, emotionless. “And there’s no way both of us could be here at the same time, so...” he lets them put it together from there.

The look of utter devastation on Kon’s face makes him feel slightly better.

**

Coming back when Cassie, Bart, and Kon have his back, just like they were closer to the end of their YJ run, makes the transition easier than it realistically should have been.

And it really might just be how low the dose of suppressants are now, or that he feels comfortable stepping into Robin’s role on the team, just with a different name, a different mask. It might just be how Bart has a tendency to hover with that hummingbird energy coming off him even when he’s seemingly standing still, maybe it’s Kon’s TTK pressing at his back even if the guy is across the room, maybe it’s how he and Cassie have leadership meetings where they just binge watch reruns of Gossip Girl and eat ice cream to bemoan their woes. 

But maybe, it’s how he can feel them pulling at his shields unconsciously. Maybe it’s how he can sometimes push back enough, can skim just the edges to get impressions of angry, sad, depressed and gently erect a mental shield without delving deep without permission, can give them the space they need from their intense senses and powers. 

Just another way he can be the regular guy on the team, working under the radar. So much a part of his role in the first damn place. 

He doesn’t realize it becomes something normal until they take the good fight a little too close to Gotham for his liking, but the choices were few and Luthor is such an incredible ass hat that Tim actually plays it down, dresses up as CEO Tim Drake to divert their baddie while the team takes apart his latest weapon of mass destruction on the down-low.

What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to leave the lobby of one of the most posh restaurants in Metropolis–

And walk face-first into Dick Gryson’s chest.

(Technically, it’s Nightwing, but really, this doesn’t make the sitch any better.)

A hand, black with blue fingerstripes, covers his mouth, and the sound of a grapple retracting is a pending oh no that he doesn’t fight the vigilante pretty much kidnapping him off the street in broad daylight. 

He can only thank God it isn’t skin-to-skin contact because his inner senses are flaring this close to the Sentinel, his Sentinel, that he has to grind his back teeth to keep himself in check. He pulls away the second they land it on solid rooftop, shoving his sleeve back to check the team’s status on his hidden wrist computer. 

Mission success! 

“Imagine my surprise,” Nightwing growls, hand on his shoulder to spin him around, “when I find you having lunch with someone like Lex Luthor instead of taking my damn calls, Timmy.”

Stepping out of that hold is subtle because Tim is looking over the side of the roof, adjusting his tie to try putting some distance between them. “I’m undercover. Those are the things people like us do when we’re running an Op, Nightwing.”

Those whiteouts narrow on him, a trick only Dick can really pull off effectively. “None of that tells me where the hell you’ve been for the last year since you left to find Bruce, found him, and didn’t come back.”

His back straightens, eyes looking away when the irritation and heat of anger hits him harder without the nice little cocktail of suppressants and stabilizers, makes his own shields tremble at the burning sear along the edges of his consciousness. 

Instead of saying something he might come to regret, Tim sucks in a breath through his nose and works through the bolt of pain, gathers his shields around himself to keep the Sentinel from unerringly lashing out at him again.

“What the hell are you even doing here? Recon on Luthor? For which nefarious plot?”

A black and blue hand slashes the space between them, “not even important, Tim. So, how about you call your team and tell them you’ve got some Bat business because we? Need to talk.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“You heard me. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks.”

“I sent back your case files, asshole–”

“Not about cape and cowl shit, Tim!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now,” even though he does, he really does. He just doesn’t know why it has to happen now.

Nightwing, however, has had enough of the talk and with a whip of his arm has a bolo out and thrown, his natural speed as a Sentinel might be slower than someone like the Flash, but it still has Tim wrapped up tight faster than he can realistically dodge.

The sight of the vigilante Nightwing swinging through Metropolis with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises over one shoulder would be big news in the city if anyone had been bothered to really look up.

**

The hotel is nice Tim thinks while wiggling around on the bed where Dick pretty much dumped him. His fingers are already getting the bolo loose from around his upper body by the time Dick has the mask off and the Nightwing suit unzipped to flop around his waist.

The Gotham Knights t-shirt underneath is a new one since the old faded one got blown up in that little explosion in the ‘Haven a few years back.

Dick lifts and sets a chair down with a pointed clack, sitting down to watch Tim squirm his way up. He’s got the bolo loose enough to brace his palms.

“What part of I’m in the middle of an OP–”

“Don’t care,” Dick cuts him off ruthlessly, those blue eyes hard and jaw tense. “I honestly don’t give a crap about the Titans right now.”

“Well I sure as hell do thank-you very much,” Tim pulls the bolo off, tosses it across the room with an angry flick, facing his former mentor, former partner, former friend with those old feelings creeping up his throat to make the taste in his mouth coppery and bitter.

“The only thing I care about right now is that I finally caught up to you. The last time I even saw you was that swan dive–”

“I’m aware. Being kicked out of a window is pretty memorable, even for people like us,” he keeps it deadpan, keeps the anger and irritation, the feelings of shit like betrayal and it must have been so easy to throw me the fuck away.

“The point is, smart ass, you left the Cave and haven’t been back. You only answer my emails about cases and bad guys. But when I ask you to come back home, which I have, Tim, I don’t even know how many times, and I get nothing! We need you–”

“Why would I come back to Gotham for you?” Is what spills out of his mouth, something bitter and foul. “You’ve already got a fucking Robin to be your little brother, remember?”

Welp, there goes playing it cool.

But watching Dick jerk back like Tim had landed a physical blow was more satisfying than he wanted to admit.  

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re still angry about that? I’ve explained to you exactly why–”

The irritation in Dick’s tone, obvious disgust when he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest is just about enough.

“You explained it just fine. You made your choice, so everyone just has to deal with it, right? Yeah, that’s really being my equal.” 

Tim makes himself stay deadly calm and cold, moves his legs away from Dick’s to stand and take a few steps away from the seething Sentinel to adjust his tie and try to get his hands to quit trembling. 

“I can’t believe you’re acting this childish, Tim. I’m really disappointed with you right now.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, Dick, disappointed in each other,” but it strikes him anyway in the small, sad place where he held on to the hope they could still work everything out somehow and at least go back to being friends. A small part that’s been slowly dying in degrees, and that last hit is enough to make it so absurdly painful.

(All those years in the R, fighting the good fight, being brothers, having each other’s backs, and it all ends here, doesn’t it?)

“What? I did everything I could do for you! I–”

“If that’s what you want to believe, then that’s fine. I don’t have any reasons to argue with you,” staring at his own reflection in the mirror, seeing the red start to creep over his cheeks, his eyes get overly shiny, Tim Drake straightens his spine and flexes his own shields. 

He keeps himself together enough to turn on a heel and walk calmly to the door.

“Tim, just...okay, just wait. Let’s talk this out–”

He doesn’t even turn, hand already on the knob, just pulls open the door and takes a hasty step through. It’s only the first step, but Dick is still just suddenly there, trying to snatch at Tim’s wrist with a bare hand, managing the brush of fingertips over a pulse.

“Don’t leave like this,” Is the last thing Dick says before the electric shock slides up his spine, the pull to all his senses almost has him on his knees.

The touch has Tim lurching away, jerking his wrist up to cradle against his chest, the red burn of Dick’s emotions beating at his shields harder with just a simple graze.

It ends with Dick still in the doorway, braced against the frame, gaping, and Tim leaning heavily into the wall across the hall, a wince on his face.

Stupid metaphysical connections and shit.

The touch hadn’t been enough to, you know, like bond them or anything, but it’s widely believed True Pairs didn’t even have to touch to get impressions from one another.

“You asshole,” he seethes at that shocked expression. 

“You feel like I betrayed you,” is low and thick, Dick’s eyes a little dazed with what he picked up through the momentary connection, “it hurt you so much when I made Dami my Robin because I didn’t even talk to you, I didn’t trust you. You think I just threw you out of my life. How could I ever do that to you...?”

If Tim was a better Guide, on a higher dose of suppressants, he would have been able to keep himself closed off enough that if they did manage to touch, he could have kept Dick out of his shields, wouldn’t have given him the ability to skim over shitty emotions.

If Tim was a better Guide, he wouldn’t have the urgent need to run.

But welp, here they are.

As the thought takes shape in his brain pan, that he’s in his civilian day-ware and can run down the hall while Dick –still half in Nightwing– is trapped in the doorway, his knees firm and his eyes dart wildly to the side, giving himself away.

And since Dick was Batman, is Nightwing, is a Sentinel, he sees the writing on the wall and absolutely refuses to let it happen. Dick shoves with his arms, darts out into the hallway, makes his suddenly weak knees work enough to shake up Tim’s plan, seizes the apparent Guide, his Guide, in a princess hold and get back before the door even starts to close.

“Put me–!”

But Dick folds his legs to sit with his back against the door, and wraps both arms around the struggling third Robin. He can hold onto Tim better than a bolo anyway. 

The push at Tim’s shields is a pressure he isn’t used to dealing with, and it’s painful to fight against it rather than just let the tentative connection open. His hands curl into fists in his lap, trying to strain against the arms pinning him while concentrating on strengthening his shields. 

He doesn’t realize he’s whispering, “no, no, no,” under his breath. 

“Please,” Dick lays his forehead down on top of Timmy’s head, “please don’t go. Not now. I’m finally...Tim, I get it now. I swear, I get it.”

“...doesn’t matter. Too late.”

“That isn’t fair,” the smallest shift and Dick is breathing against his throat, making him shiver, “I just found out you’re...a Guide. My Guide. We haven’t even started yet. It can’t be too late if we haven’t had a beginning.” It gets worse when Dick breathes in his scent deeply, a noise coming out of his chest.

“We have had a beginning,” he bites out, fists tight, concentrating on keeping his shields strong but flexible, “we’ve had years–”

“And I’m not ready to throw all of that away.”

The pressure against his mental shields finally eases up as Dick raises his head, gives him a little shake to make him look up. 

“You already did, remember?”

“I didn’t... I never threw you away. That’s not what I meant or wanted. Yes, I should have handled things better. I know that now, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I was sorry before, I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to make it better between us.”

Tim’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t let up in case this is one of those diversionary tactics to put him in a false sense of security. 

(They fight bad guys. Sometimes, they have to cheat, and he wouldn’t put it past Dick to do just that.)

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” he finally tries, staring up into those blue, blue eyes (I trusted you once, and fuck if I’m going to let you do this to me again). “But whatever it is, you’re wrong. I’m not going to come back to Gotham and be your Guide. I’m not going to bond with you because the universe says I’m meant to be some kind of magical counterbalance.”

Dick’s expression crumples, his arms go a little slack. 

“Tim, we’re...we’re a True–”

“I don’t give a fuck about True Pairs, Dick, not anymore. Babs has been your Guide since you both presented. She wants the job, she can damn well have it.”

It’s not a fight to push against Dick’s arms the second time and stand up out of his lap.

“You’ve loved me since the moment you put on the cape, Tim. I know you have.” When what he means is I know now.

“I loved you before that, you asshole, and you betrayed me. You don’t get that chance again.”

Turning away shouldn’t be this easy now that Dick knows the truth, but it is, and the very last parts of him still hoping, still craving, are just as easily–

–wiped out.

Dick’s eyes are watery when the door hisses and creaks upon opening, and it’s an automatic thing, reaching a hand up just expecting Tim to take it.

“Tim. Timmy, please.”

“Good-bye, Dick,” is already fading with rapidly retreating footsteps. At least he can keep some of his dignity because Dick will never know he falls the fuck apart as the elevator goes down.

**

Author’s notes:Here’s why I don’t like this: 1. I want to talk more about why Tim chose Shiva as the Sentinel to teach him how to be a good Guide. Like, I want to explore that dynamic more because I’ve never really had the time or space to write Shiva as we see her in Tim’s Robin run.2. I wanted to go more into the expanded senses of Sentinels and how to - hell, I dunno, make it seem to be a little closer to cannon maybe? Like point out some of Dick’s greatest escapes and be like part of that is due to his Sentinel power. 3. Dick says some shitty things, and I don’t give him any context. Like, at that point, he legit believes he did the right thing at the time, and look! Tim’s Red Robin so everyone wins! But yeah, once he got under those shields, the truth shakes him up. 4. I dunno, this au might not be for me. It doesn’t feel very different from some of my other angsty things I guess but meh. Who knows, I might fix it someday :D 

[hobbitsnapes]

The Red Hoods Protègè chapter 14

Older Damian Wayne x ofc

(Photo made by my lovely friend @tyuuniverse)

Summary:Red hood has taken a young vigilante under his wing and subsequently changes Damians life forever. (I suck at summary’s)

The smell of burgers and general grease wafted the room as soon as Jason and her stepped in. The sound of workers and people muffling the busy cars right outside. They both took their usual seat in the back, preferring to be there rather than up front. Each Sunday Sandy and Jason took what they call their, ‘dad daughter day’ and went out to eat here. Jason took her to the ever so famous bat burger the day he adopted her, and ever since then they come once a week. Maybe not the healthiest thing they could do, but with all the physical activity they do they never worry. But this night in particular was a special night for them.

They always joked about the red hood hotdog, usually getting it and finding it funny that out of all the foods, they chose a hot dog. Well after almost a year being out alongside Jason on patrol, people started noticing her. She was called ‘the red hoods robin.’ And it was announced the popular food chain would be adding a side dish to the red hood dog, a side of archangel wings. They both laughed as they got them because they were in fact just the wings.

They both sat and enjoyed their respected meals, joking around as they usually do. Both of them enjoying themselves and truly just feeling like a father and his daughter.

They both finish their meals after some time, walking out back to his bike. She turns to him, grabbing her helmet and placing it on. “Hey since it’s still early, wanna go to the pier?” He asks, usually they would only go out to dinner. But they decided to go out earlier than normal, having not to go out tonight due to their promise to spend the day as normal as possible. “Sure, I don’t think I’ve been there before?” She replies, wondering if she had been there before as a child. She isn’t able to recall a time she had been before, possibly during the night with Jason but never during the day when she was able to see.

And that’s where they spent most of their day. The pier hadn’t been that large but they made do. They threw rocks, watched as all the many boats swam by, and walked around. As the day grew to evening, and the already cool air became more noticeable, the chill in the air swam around their clothes, they decided to head home.

Never did they think walking into the once lonely and blank apartment that they now called home, would look like it did now. The walls that once were blank that held photos, now all torn to shreds. Glass and wood Scattered around the floor.the wood coffee table they just got, broken into shards of wood. Their tv broken on the ground. Their couch, cut up to pieces. Everything they had built, broken.

Shock and disbelief filled them along with a dick feeling in their stomach. Their hearts dropping but accelerating as it set in. Someone has found them.

Jason turns to her, tears filling her eyes, handing her his gun. “Go look in every room. If you hear anything, scream as loud as you can.” She nods her head, grabbing the gun and slowly walking out of the living room.

Jason looks around the room, looking for any clue whatsoever of who could have done this. And Jason got his answer, Nestled in between the cracked floorboards near the broken couch. Horror filled him as his stomach and heart felt as though they both would expel from his body.

He grabs for his phone, dread filling him as sweat beads down his forehead. This goes against everything he’s built up to do in the last 3 years. His mind screaming at him not to do this. That it’ll only end in pain. But that one voice, the one that screamed at him the moment he saw her over the ledge, the one who screamed at him to help her, the one who told him to protect her, made the answer for him as he dialed the memorized number.

“Hello? Who is this?” Said Bruce, jason's heart dropping into his stomach. Feeling panic rise up to his neck. Bruce asked who is it again, an edge to his voice now. Jason lets out a shaky breath, he has to do this, for her. “This is the last number I thought I’d call. But this is my only option I have.” “J-Jason? I-I how did you rem-” “don’t you remember a part of my training was to memorize this number. I couldn’t forget it if I tried. Now cut the crap with the shock bruce. I, have to ask you for something.” “What is it?” Jason swallowed the pit forming in his throat. “Our apartment, it was broken into. Everything, and I mean everything, is broken. I sent her to go search around here and out back. I-I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought I could protect her. But I know I can’t. Not by myself. It-it’s bad Bruce. I need her to stay there for a while, I can’t be out there trying to figure out what to do whilst also trying with everything in me to protect her. We’ll be there in an hour. If we aren’t there by 10, come looking for us.” “I’ll have alfred ready one of the rooms. But Jason, what about her and-“ “I’ll talk to her. I’m one of the only people she’ll listen to.” Bruce sighs. “See you in an hour.” Jason hangs up the phone, ready for the hell he's about to walk into.

“Did you find anything?” Jason asks as he steps into the room. Tears filling his eyes as he sees her once beautifully decorated room, torn upside down in shambles. “I didn’t, it’s like they wiped everything clean of evidence. Hey, what’s wrong dad?” It’s as if they are so in tune with one another that they can read by just their face that there’s something wrong. Her big blue eyes wide as she looks at him. He lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to do this. But there’s nothing else I can do.” “What is it?” She asks, putting her hand on his arm. “I know I’ve always said how strong, and capable you are. And you always will be. But, this is something even I’m scared of. I, I need you to stay at the manor for a while.” Her once worried face, turns to disbelieve and anger. “What? You can’t be serious dad. Don’t you remember he’s-“ “yes. I know he’s there. But this isn’t a debate. I can’t be out there looking around and finding out who did this.” Anger bubbles up her throat. Her hands shaking by her sides. “And I’ve been fighting alongside you for over a year. And I went under the radar for another year on the streets. Do you have ANY idea how much it’ll hurt to live there with him there!” “AND DONT YOU THINK IT HURTS ME TO PUT YOU THERE!? Don’t you think it makes my blood boil to have to stay under the same roof as the boy who broke my daughters heart? Don’t you think I’d do ANYTHING to find another place to bring you? I would’ve already done it if I could. These people aren’t just regular robbers. They found out our identity, found where we live, and recanted this entire place. For all we know they could’ve bugged the entire building! I’d do anything to keep you from them. But I know that they are our best option to make sure we both aren’t killed. I know you’re smart, I know you're strong. But at the end of the day, you aren’t my partner. You’re my daughter. And I’m your father. And I love you and I know that this is the safest place on the earth for you right now. I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any other option sandy.” Tears fell down both their faces. Realization dawning on both of them what has to happen. She hugs him tightly. Clutching to him as they both cry. “When do we leave.” She asks. “We need to be there by 10. I need you to pack essentials and be at the back door in 10 minutes. Grab only what you need. I’ll bring you up everything else in a few days.” Tears fell down her eyes into his shirt. “Okay.”

The air in the car is thick as they drive down the road. Jason has an emergency car down in a storage shed a block away from their apartment. Exactly for situations like these. Tears fell down both their faces, neither speaking a word. Their hearts and stomach falling the further they go.

The thick trees surround them, a dark blanket of darkness coats the area that the headlights can’t reach. Smooth pavement creating a steady drive the closer they get. Their tears had dried by now. But the ever growing anxiety growing in both of them as the y’all manor looms over the tall trees. Growing larger the closer they get.

Lights illuminate from the windows into the dark night. The tall building high up into the sky as they stop. She had seen plenty of photos of the ever so popular but private estate. But it’s as if the photos were nothing but a mear copy of the truly beautiful building. But that didn’t stop the feeling of vomit growing up their throats the longer they look at it. They turn to one another. Tears filling their eyes again. “Alright, lets go.”

The sound of their boots clicking along the brick ground the only sound as they approach the double doors. They step up to it, Jason reaching his hand out to the door handle before it was opened. An elderly man dressed in a suit answered. A faint smile etched on his face when his eyes met Jason. “Welcome. Master Bruce and everyone is down in the cave waiting for both of you.”

The long hallways were dark, only being lit through the doorway leading into the Library.

The room was nothing but from a fairytale. Long and tall bookshelves filled to the brim lined all the way up to the ceiling. Every inch of the walls were filled with a book.

Jason and sandy walked over to one book in particular. It wasn’t bright in color, or new or old looking. Just an ordinary book. But when Jason pulled it, a rumble was heard from the bookshelf.

A doorway was opened, like one of those secret passageways in a castle.

The walk down the many steps was dark, saved only by a light at the end of it. Their feet padded against the stairway the only sound to be heard, besides the loud beating of their hearts. The pair looking at one another when they reached the last step.

The large cave was filled with computers, a few tables, glass casings, and much more. 6 people stood in the middle of it. Sandy only recognizing 2.

Damian watched as her and Jason walked in, her eyes flashing to his but just as quickly darting away. A pain shot through his chest at the obvious pain in her face when she looked at him. Her eyes flashing pain and shining with unshed tears before going back to normal when she looked at jason. Jasons eyes bore into both Damian and Bruce’s. His stare burning when he looked at Damian.

Jason let out a large sigh as he looked at everyone. What he once called his family, now almost complete strangers staring at him like he has 3 heads. “I’m guessing Bruce already told you guys what happened. Correct?” He asks, everyone nodding their heads. “I’m gonna be honest. You guys are the last fucking people I want her to be around. If I could, I’d erase every single one of you from my memory. But, I know there’s no other option I have to keep her safe. So for a while, she’ll be staying here. But that doesn’t mean you can recruit her to be a part of this, team.” Jasons eyes bore holes into Bruce when he said this. “Sandy is very strong, stronger than you’d think. She’s smart. Don’t underestimate her. Now, there’s some rules I have for you all in regards to her. Just because she isn’t a part of your team, doesn’t mean you don’t watch out for her. After all she is new to this still. But that doesn’t mean you baby her. Trust me on that. You’ll treat her with respect. Anyone having a bad day and decides to take it out on her, and I find out, you’ll be dealing with me. And above all, you.keep.her.safe. You all have done a horrible job at it in the past. But if she EVER gets hurt, either by one of you or what you didn’t do, I’ll make what I did to him look like child’s play.” Jasons eyes burned into Damian when he said this. His eyes burning with hatred and anger at him.

“This will be your room, Miss Todd. I hope it’s to your liking.” Says Alfred. The room was lavish. The size alone was larger than her and Jasons living room. A large plush queen size bed in the middle of it. A large bay window out looking into the front yard. Covered by silk blinds. The floor was a dark oak, but mostly covered by a large dark brown rug. A table that could fold into a vanity sat in the corner by the bathroom. Right next to it was a door leading to a large closet. A small nightstand stood beside her bed on each side.

She turns to Alfred, her eyes searching into his. “Thank you. It’s lovely.” “I do apologize, this is one of the only rooms on this flooring. It is 3 doors down from master Damians room. If you would like I could ready a room upstairs if you are uncomfortable.” “No thank you, as long as I don’t have to walk past his I’ll be fine. Thank you for asking though.” “It’s not a problem miss. Dinner was served earlier, I could come and bring you some if you are hungry.” Her eyes looked into his again, a soft warm smile painted on his face. “I’m honestly not that hungry for anything right now. With everything that’s happened today, I’d honestly rather just go to bed.” She looks away and sets her bag onto her bed. “As you wish miss Todd. And just so you know.” He sets his hand on her shoulder. “If you need anything, there’s a button and speaker right by your bed. It’ll ring to me if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, even just to talk. You are just as welcome here as everyone. That includes your father too.” His eyes looked into her tear filled ones. A smile formed on her face. “Thank you Alfred. I really appreciate it.” He walked away from her and to the door. Wishing her a goodnight.

Tags: @comic-nerd-dc @comic-brew @psychovigilantewrites

[malcyon]

That March Night

Summary: “You gonna call me that the whole time?”

Roy laughs lightly, “What? Jaybird? Don’t like it?”

Jason quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I . . . It’s fine. I like it.”

*****

Roy goes to the Wayne Manor to talk (yell) about Oliver to Dick. He doesn't expect to end up talking to Jason instead.

Read on AO3

___________________________________________

Roy ignores the sting of Gotham’s winter biting his nose as he walks up the front steps of the Wayne Manor, the snow crunching behind him as his cab drives away. He shivers and looks up.

Wayne Manor is nothing like home. It sits elegantly on top of a low hill, almost like a palace, unafraid of what the city only a couple of miles away could do to it. The Queen Mansion isn’t like that at all. Vast gardens and tall trees practically hide it from view, allowing a sense of secrecy. Roy used to spend hours following Oliver around in those trees, trying to line up the perfect shot with a toy bow and arrow as his mentor pretended not to notice him on the ground below and—

No, he’s not going to think about Ollie. Roy whips his gaze forward, jaw tightening.

The Manor is nothing like home, and he’s never been so thankful for that as he is now.

He climbs the steps and punches the ridiculously ornate doorbell with a freezing finger. Then he waits, breath frosting in the air, wishing he’d grabbed an actual jacket when he’d stormed out and zeta-beamed over.

How the hell could a city be so cold in fucking March?

One of the doors opens, and Alfred raises an eyebrow as Roy rushes in, leaving trails of mush behind him. “Sorry,” he manages, trying to rub some feeling back into his hands. The butler looks him over, taking in the rumpled sweatshirt, jeans, and snowy boots before shaking his head with something that isn’t quite exasperation but isn’t quite amusement either.

“Master Richard isn’t at the house at this time, Mr. Harper.”

Shit. Of course, the asshole isn’t here yet; it’s not like Dick promised he would be or anything when Roy had called only ten fucking minutes ago.

He’s about to mutter out some excuse to leave; maybe apologize for the slush on the carpet too, since Alfred lays a firm hand on his shoulder in the way that usually precedes a scolding. He tenses with the contact, but then the old man says, “However, perhaps you would like something to drink?”

Oh.

Roy doesn't know how to respond to that, can only nod as Alfred smiles at him with a fondness that he hasn’t seen from anyone in a while. The butler drops his hand and begins to lead the way to the kitchen, even though Roy’s been in the house plenty of times before to know exactly where it is. Roy follows cautiously, praying that he isn’t leaving a trail of snowy footprints in his wake.

After several seconds of silence, Alfred gives him a knowing side-eye, finally asking, “May I ask what brought you here tonight?”

Roy looks down at his muddy boots. “Just another stupid fight. Nothing new.”

Because there isn’t any point lying to Alfred; the man knows him too well by now. And it was a stupid fight: Oliver going on about recklessness when he’s hardly even there to see if Roy’s being an idiot. A fact that Roy was all too glad making known. And, like usual, it escalated, voices rising until he stomped out as Oliver yelled after him.

Calling Dick had been an impulse decision. Because usually he’d go to Donna, whine as she kissed his wounds before telling him that he was an idiot and to go fix his damn problems like an adult. Like any of their eighteen-year-old asses can be considered adults. Like any of them actually know what they're doing.

But he doesn’t want his girlfriend’s logic and sensibility. He wants to rant to somebody who can understand, and who else is better for that than Dick “Daddy Issues” Grayson. Dick, who’s been visiting the Manor daily while the Big Bad Bat is off-world on some mission.

Except Dick isn’t here.

Fantastic.

Alfred gives him a forlorn look, dragging Roy back into the present.

“Arguments can tear families apart, Mr. Harper. I’ve seen it happen here. I’d rather not see it happen to you.”

The way he says that makes something ache in Roy’s chest, so he glances away and mutters, “Do you know when Dick is gonna be back?”

The butler doesn’t seem ruffled by Roy’s callous change in topic, not that he's ruffled by much, and continues walking calmly. “He was out visiting Ms. Anders in New York, I believe.” Fuck, he’s going to be waiting forever if Dick is with Kory. “However, he said that he would be back tonight to spar with Master Jason.”

Roy nearly skips a step.

He hadn’t even thought about Jason being here. Not that it’s a bad thing it’s just . . . He hadn’t even thought about it.

They aren’t too close, had held mindless conversations whenever Dick had brought the Boy Wonder up to the Titans’ Tower, sparred together a few times. The kid’s talented definitely, but from what Roy’s seen, there’s a heaviness on Jason’s shoulders that the former Robin had never had. Something rough around the edges. Eyes little too sharp and hits that can land a little too hard. Hell, Dick had mentioned before that Jason tends to “use excessive force” on criminals and is less forgiving than any of Batman’s other partners.

But Roy likes him. Jason is smart, quick with puzzles and even quicker with words. And, despite the cocky attitude he puts on, there’s a shyness that appears whenever any of the Titans talks to him.

It’s kinda cute, really.

Alfred turns into the kitchen, and Roy lets himself stop in the doorway to soak up the warmth of the room. He closes his eyes and rests his head on the doorframe, hears Alfred shuffle through the cabinets. He takes in a shaky breath and the world fades away.

God, he’s tired.

He must have dozed off against the doorframe because it’s the sound of chopping that makes him blink back to life. Alfred is standing by the counter, a small pile of chocolate pieces collecting on his cutting board as he goes through a massive slab of the stuff. Roy starts, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Harper. Hot chocolate is the best remedy for a cold night, and, besides, I was feeling rather chilly myself earlier.”

Roy’s throat tightens. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Please have a seat.”

He hesitates, then moves to the kitchen island and pulls out one of the stools from beneath it, sitting quietly. Alfred finishes cutting, puts the pieces into a double boiler on the stove, and cranks up the heat. Roy watches and tries not to fall asleep again as the scent of melting chocolate fills the air. Alfred hums from around the sink, and, screw it, Roy lets himself bury his head in his arms and shut his eyes.

The butler can shake him awake later.

Then he hears the sound of padded footsteps, followed by, “Hey, Alf, Bruce just called; he has some new information for you to put into—oh.” Roy turns around in his seat to see Jason, clad in flannel pajama pants and a Wonder Woman sweatshirt.

Roy’s mouth quirks with a smile.

Jason stares at him with big eyes, suddenly seeming very unsure and out of his depth. “Am I—uh, interrupting anything, or . . . ?”

Alfred shakes his head as he dries his hands with a dishtowel. “Not at all, Master Jason. What is it?”

Jason looks away from him, putting his hands in his pockets. Roy watches the kid bite his lip and shift his weight from foot to foot as if neither are comfortable to settle on. “Bruce has a couple of files on the Falcone case he wants you to sort through. But since you’re busy, I can take care of it.”

“There’s no need, I’ll do that if you finish with the hot chocolate here.” Roy isn't sure, but there’s almost a smugness to Alfred’s words.

Jason freezes, and his eyes flick to him—almost too quick for Roy to catch it—before going back to the old man. “I . . . Yeah, okay. The files are by the Computer, next to that stuff about Scarecrow’s new toxin.” Alfred dips his head and walks out, steps crisp on the hardwood, and Roy swears that he sees the tiniest curl of a smile on the butler’s lips.

Roy stares after him because he must have missed an inside joke or something—

Jason clears his throat, once again shifting on his feet as Roy’s eyes snap back to him. He tilts his head, brow furrowing. Was Jason that tall the last time Roy saw him? Jesus, the kid is already nearly Dick’s height, at this rate, he’ll probably be taller than Roy.

And bigger too. Jason is solid, certainly not as flexible or as fast as his adopted brother, but will make up for it in brute strength. It’s a little strange how similar the two look, but up close, the differences are obvious. Besides build, Jason is paler than Dick’s racially toned skin, making the blush on his cheeks stand out a hell of a lot more now that Roy’s noticing it. He frowns.

“You okay, kid? You seem a little flushed, don’t have a fever, do you?” He stands, walking over to Jason and pressing a hand to the boy’s forehead in concern, something Donna always does whenever somebody is feeling sick.

God, next he’ll be mother-henning over the kid.

But before he can move his hand away, Jason takes a quick step back, looking even pinker. “I’m fine, thanks. Just gonna grab the milk.” He darts past Roy, shoulders stiff. Roy blinks, but only shrugs and sits back down at the counter because okay then. Jason keeps his back to him as he pours the milk into the chocolate mixture, the tension in his body making Roy’s muscles ache.

The silence begins to tick by. Roy's fingers start to tap on the counter.

Should he talk? He feels like he should talk. Roy racks his brain, trying to remember anything Dick had said about the kid.

He mentioned getting books for Jason around Christmas, classic novels. Roy has never been a big fan of those, he prefers non-fiction and instruction manuals, facts. Like that stuff on engineering Ollie had given him for his birthday last year—

No, he can’t think about Oliver right now. He won’t. And he shoves those memories down, down, down, until he can pretend they never happened.

It takes a few seconds before Roy realizes that he’s been clenching his fist so hard his fingernails have left sharp, angry indents in his palm. He forces himself to lay his hands flat on the counter. Takes a breath.

Fuck, he needs a vacation from this shit.

He looks up, just as Jason turns around. The red is gone from his face, replaced with a relaxed focus as he walks from cabinet to cabinet, finding and throwing different spices into the pot. He doesn’t even need to stop and read the labels; just knows exactly what he’s doing. Roy watches, a little mesmerized by the surety of Jason’s movements. By the kid’s soft expression and the slight furrow of his brows as he concentrates.

Roy almost regrets it when he interrupts the other boy’s tranquility by asking, “Do you like to cook?”

Jason freezes, hand hovering over the hot chocolate, and, yeah, Roy should have kept his mouth closed going by the sudden nervousness on Jason’s face. Like Roy is going to make fun of him. Finally, the kid says, “Uh . . . Yeah, when I get the chance.”

Jason doesn’t continue, which should probably be Roy’s cue to just shut up, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to sit in awkward silence until Dick gets here.

“Why?” He’s honestly a bit curious. Jason doesn’t seem the type to spend time in the kitchen, and Dick sure as hell barely steps into one.

The kid stares at him cautiously, as if he’s waiting for Roy to insult him. Roy leans forward, propping his head up with a fist and putting an interested smile on his face. Jason looks away, tips of his ears pink. Slowly, he says, “We never had a lot of food when I was a kid, so . . . I don’t know, It’s nice getting to create something and then give it to other people to make them happy. Feels good.” Jason wrinkles his nose. “That sounds dumb.”

Roy chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s not dumb, it’s. . . It’s kinda cool, actually.”

Jason blinks, and then his face breaks into a smile. It’s a nice smile, one that Roy hasn’t seen before. “Plus, it’s funny to watch Dick try and help when all he can do is set water on fire.” He snickers and Jason cocks his head, brows coming together. “I have no idea when he’s gonna be back if you need to talk to him.”

Roy shrugs, suddenly not minding his friend’s absence as much. “He was with Kory last I heard,” he says, and Jason makes a face.

“You might be here for a while then.”

He snorts, and that nice smile appears on Jason’s lips again. “Yeah, they’re disgusting.”

Jason nods in agreement, then frowns. “What did you need to talk about anyway?” Roy freezes, reality dousing him like ice water. The kid stills, eyes darting down as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“No, no, it’s okay. Not like it’s a big secret or anything,” Roy mutters, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he should grow it out; perhaps that would get Oliver’s attention. “Ollie and I had a fight, needed to rant about it to somebody.”

He looks up at the ceiling, feeling the familiar bitterness rise in his chest. God, maybe he should leave, go to Dinah’s place, fuck waiting for Dick—

“You can rant to me if you want.” Roy blinks, and Jason looks away, almost managing to shrug like he couldn’t care less. But there’s an honest sincerity when the kid murmurs, “I—uh—I know I’m not Dick or any of your other teammates, but I’ll listen. If you ever want to talk or anything . . .”

Roy goes still, gazing at the other boy silently.

He isn't the type to 'talk' about his feelings, and if he ever does, it's after downing copious amounts of alcohol.

The team knows that, knows not to bring up Oliver when Roy stomps into the tower eyes blazing. Knows to just let Donna speak to him before approaching. Knows, if Donna's not there, to let Dick or Wally or even Garth follow him into the gym and spar with him for hours just so he doesn't have to talk about it.

Even then, it took years for him to fully open up to the original team. And as of now, Roy would rather stew in anger than share his emotions with Kory or Raven or Vic or, God forbid, Gar. He knows it's not fair to keep himself so locked up when they've practically laid out their darkest secrets to the whole team, but he just can't do it. But now there's Jason.

Jason, who he hardly knows, with his too-big sweatshirt and clever mouth and, before he can think about it, Roy's talking.

“Well, then. Buckle up, Jaybird. You ready to talk shit about father figures?”

Jason stares at him for a second, long enough for Roy to start believing that he’ll back out, but then a smile creeps across his face. “You gonna call me that the whole time?”

Roy laughs lightly, “What? Jaybird? Don’t like it?”

Jason quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I . . . It’s fine. I like it.”

The kid takes two mugs from a cabinet and pours them both some hot chocolate. Roy watches curiously as he then grabs some whipped cream from the fridge, topping off the drinks along with a bit of cinnamon.

“So, Harper—“ Jason slides Roy a cup and rests his elbows on the kitchen island, leaning towards him. His eyes are either green or blue, Roy can’t figure out which—“let’s talk shit.”

Roy smiles and takes a sip from his mug. The chocolate and spices dance through his mouth, and he can feel himself relax for the first time in God knows how long. The glow of the kitchen seeps through his skin, and his throat tightens. This is what a home should be like.

Jason watches him, waiting patiently. Roy takes a breath and begins.

It starts with Oliver, his needling over Roy’s every mistake before taking off again for a meeting or a mission or anywhere where Roy can’t go. They don’t even talk that much anymore, not that they did before, but still. Roy must have messed up, did something wrong that made Oliver disappointed enough that he doesn’t want to be around him.

Saying that out loud stings, or maybe it burns, deep in his chest.

Because what did he do wrong? Dinah hasn’t said anything, but she’s been busy lately with the League, and he hasn’t gotten to actually see her in weeks. And Hal had popped in not too long ago, but the Green Lantern couldn't exactly hang around to go on patrol and listen to Roy's concerns. Still, Roy's sure that somebody would call him out if he had really fucked up. Not Oliver, but somebody.

Somebody has to care, right?

Jason is a good listener, doesn’t interrupt once, only watches him with eyes that get it. He lets Roy curse and ramble, and by the end, Roy’s shoulders feel lighter than air. He’s even grinning as Jason snorts at his impression of Oliver’s ‘You should so definitely be disappointed in yourself even though I did that exact same dumbass thing less than a minute ago’ speech.

He finishes with several obscene hand gestures that make Jason snicker and then slumps back into his seat, taking a deep sip from his mug. Jason hums from across the counter, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes, and Roy frowns.

Being Oliver’s partner can suck sometimes, but at least he’s not Batman. Gotham is one fucked up piece of work, and it takes a certain kind of crazy to be able to live there and not go insane. Bruce has seen a lot of shit, everyone who picks up the mask has, but sometimes Roy can’t help but wonder what it was that made the man so hard on his sons.

The logical part of Roy’s brain reminds him that it's because he cares.

Dick would probably punch that part of him in the face.

And Bruce’s standards were high even when Dick was Robin. But Jason isn’t Dick, hell, Roy can see that, and he hardly knows the kid. And even he’s noticing how Jason is fraying at the edges; how sometimes his smiles don’t seem to reach his eyes.

Maybe Roy isn’t the only one who needs to be asked if he’s okay.

He opens his mouth to do just that, but Jason interrupts him with an easy grin and says, “So, besides yelling at Oliver, what else do you like to do?”

The question Roy’s about to ask is pushed aside, and he blinks in surprise, trying to come up with an answer. “Uh. I’ve been working on these designs for some new trick arrows, they—”

Jason glances up from where he’d been tracing mindless patterns on the counter. There’s a spark of curiosity in his teal eyes, and whatever Roy was saying turns to puffs of smoke in his brain. “You create that stuff? Like, you build weapons and shit?” He nods, a little taken aback because nobody’s really asked him about this before. Jason grins at him, wide and beaming. “That is so cool.”

Roy shrugs, attempting to ignore the heat spreading across the back of his neck. He rubs at it, trying and failing to look away from the genuine interest on Jason’s face. “Yeah, uh, I like making stuff. I’m working on this sonic arrow right now, trying to mimic Dinah’s scream. But I can’t quite get the sound waves to resonate from the shaft the right way and—“

It’s obvious that the kid doesn’t wholly understand what Roy is talking about. Still, he interrupts to ask questions and actually seems interested in what Roy’s saying. Not just nodding and zoning out like most people do, and seriously why Dick doesn’t hang out with Jason more instead of sulking around the Tower.

Sulking might be a bit too harsh, but still.

Jason has just finished muttering about Bruce’s stupid double standards on saying names in the field when Roy’s phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out and flashes the screen to Jason, who only rolls his eyes when he sees the caller. Roy hits accept and holds the phone up to his ear.

“Okay, I know I’ve left you hanging at the Manor for over ten minutes, but—”

“Twenty-five, actually.”

“But I’m going to be there in twenty so—”

“So, you’ve actually left me here for forty-five minutes.”

There are several seconds of silence as Dick goes quiet. Jason raises his brows, and Roy shrugs in response, an amused grin spreading across his face. Dick sighs, low and nearly annoyed. “Kory and I had a fight.”

The grin slides away, and Roy straightens up. “Again? Shit, man.”

“Yeah. ” he trails off then continues, “You tell me about Oliver and I tell you about this? I know where the key to Bruce’s liquor cabinet is; we can get drunk.”

Roy hesitates. He isn’t angry anymore, just . . . Happy might not be the right word, but with the taste of chocolate on his tongue and the sight of Jason playing with the strings of his Wonder Woman sweatshirt in front of him . . . It’s the only thing that explains the weird warmth in his chest. Plus, getting wasted to deal with Oliver's shitty parenting skills won't be worth the hangover in the morning. He shrugs even though Dick can't see him.

“Actually, I’ve been talking to Jason about it.”

The other boy’s head shoots up, eyes wide, and Roy hears Dick from the other end go, “Jason?”

He smiles and flicks a piece of leftover chocolate at the kid, who scrunches up his nose in response. “Yeah, he and Alfred made some hot chocolate too, if you want. Probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Jason rubs the back of his head at that, cheeks turning pink.

There’s a small laugh from over the phone. “They . . . Yeah, that sounds really nice, actually.”

“Alright, see you in twenty.”

“See you.” Roy hangs up, tucks his phone in his back pocket as Jason rubs his thumb self-consciously on the counter. Neither of them say anything for a moment, an almost comfortable silence settling between them.

Jason looks down at his socks.

“Do you think . . .” His voice grows quiet, and Roy sets his hot chocolate on the island, a bad feeling growing in his stomach at the kid’s tone. Jason doesn’t continue; only keeps staring at his feet.

Roy’s fingers begin to tap against the counter anxiously.

"Yeah, Jaybird?”

Jason looks up at the nickname, that ever-present blush appearing on his cheeks again. It takes more willpower than Roy wants to admit to focus on what the boy says next instead of staring at his eyes.

“Do you think that Bruce will . . . make me quit being Robin?”

Roy blinks.

The fuck?

“I’m sorry, what? Why the hell would he do that?” Jason winces, and Roy immediately quiets and clenches his fists instead. He tries his best to push the initial what the fuck tone out of his voice as he continues lowly, “Jay, where did that thought come from?”

Jason swallows, shoulders hunching like he wants to disappear into the floorboards. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

“Fuck that.” Roy walks around the island and leans against the wall opposite of Jason, eyes beginning to flash. “What made you think he’d do that?” The kid doesn’t answer, and Roy’s gaze narrows. “Did Bruce say something? I swear to God, he was such an asshole with the whole falling out thing with Dick I wouldn’t be surprised if he—”

“He doesn’t trust me! The guy fell, I didn't—”

Jason stops, his outburst echoing on the kitchen walls.

Roy stills and his brow furrows in confusion. Jason is looking down again, his face is pale like he’s about to collapse. Roy takes a step forward. “Jay?”

The other boy doesn’t move; only takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I know that I fuck up sometimes, alright. I know that. I know that Bruce doesn’t trust me like he trusted Dick, and that’s okay, I get it.”  

No, it is most certainly not okay.

“And he was already always fuckin' telling me, ‘I expect more from you,' and ‘Don’t hit that hard, Robin,’ and I’m trying and he doesn’t care, because I won’t ever be good enough for him. And I know that. But I never thought—” Roy’s mouth goes very dry as he notices that Jason is actually shaking, trying to keep it together. He's about to reach out when Jason takes a quick breath and continues, “Never thought that he’d think I would—”

The kid cuts himself off again, turning away and biting his thumb. Roy moves on instinct to put a hand on his shoulder, make Jason face him. It takes everything to not punch the wall behind him when he finally fully sees Jason's expression.

He looks broken. Gaze darting over Roy's face and muscles rigid as stone, palm pressed against his mouth like he's trying to hold in the words.

Roy rests both of his hands on Jason’s shoulders and squeezes him gently. “What happened, Jay?”

Jason stares up at him, eyes desperate. “You have to believe me, Roy. You have to. I—There was this dealer the other night, okay? B and I had been tracking him for a while and, shit, we even walked in on him hurting this girl. Kept bringing him to the cops, but they didn’t do anything. Said there wasn’t enough evidence or some kind of bullshit like that.

“So I—I went to his apartment,” Jason whispers, teeth grinding together. “Was hopin’ to find something on him while Bruce was busy with the police. And I saw him, just—drinking liquor on his damn balcony like he hadn’t done anything wrong. And I was so angry, but, Roy, I wouldn’t—The guy fell, I . . .” Jason stops, breaks out of Roy’s gentle grip and presses his lips firmly together.

“Jaybird, Jason, I believe you,” Roy tells him softly. “I believe you, I swear.”

Jason shakes his head sourly. “Bruce doesn’t. He thinks I pushed—” He shuts his eyes tightly—“I wouldn’t. I told him that. I told him, but he benched me. He actually thinks that I—”

Roy is moving before he can even think about it, pulling Jason against his chest and letting the boy rest his forehead against the crook of Roy’s shoulder. Jason isn’t even crying, just shaking, still holding his hand up to his mouth as Roy murmurs into his hair, “Hey, hey. I got you, okay? I got you.”

Jason grips his sweatshirt, breathes against Roy’s neck. “I haven’t told Dick. I don’t want him to look at me like . . . Like Bruce did. Don’t want to disappoint him too.”

Something inside Roy breaks, and he pulls away, makes sure that Jason is looking him in the eyes. “Hey, you are not a disappointment.”

Jason laughs, weak and bitter, “That’s bullshit, and you know it, Harper.” His eyes suddenly spark, and Roy almost takes a step back. “Besides, what the fuck do you know? You’re a damn Titan, you’re not . . .”

A suffocating silence fills the room, heavy and rotten.

The back of Roy's throat burns when he manages, “What do I know? You’ve been listening to me for the past half hour, right?”

Jason freezes, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I—Shit, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Jason.” The kid looks up at him, face flushed and eyes red. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I . . .”

“Hey.” Roy places his hands back on the kid’s shoulders. “I said it’s okay, didn’t I?” Jason stares at him for a moment before hesitantly nodding.  

Roy drops his hands and hops up on to one of the bar stools, leaning over to grab his mug across the island. He takes a deep swig like he’s drinking vodka instead of hot cocoa, and runs through the words in his head.

Jason watches him incredulously. Roy sighs.

“Alright, I’m only saying this once, so pay attention.” He holds up a finger. “Bruce is an asshole. He’s an asshole who thinks he’s always right and who would probably rather dive off of the Wayne Tower instead of talk about his feelings. He’s also an asshole who loves you.” Jason snorts, and Roy shakes his head. “No, I'm serious. You’re his son; even if you think you’re just a replacement for Dick, you’re his son, Jay.”

“But Dick is—”

“You’re not Dick.”

That shuts the kid up, makes him blink up at Roy like he isn’t seeing him quite right. Roy shrugs, feeling a little self-conscious under Jason’s stare. “Well, you’re not. You’re nothing like him, and that’s completely fine. Great even.” Roy thinks of Dick’s ever-charming smile and his ability to sweep anyone off their feet in a matter of seconds. He shakes his head. “Honestly, the world only needs one Dick Grayson anyway.”

He grins, sliding off the stool to ruffle Jason’s hair. “Besides, I think you’re pretty awesome. And the rest of the team does, too. You’re smart and good in a fight. You even helped us solve that Zandia case the other day; we would have been stuck for hours if you hadn’t worked on that. Those people would be dead right now if you weren’t there, Jaybird."

He nudges Jason with his arm, eyes crinkling with a smile. “So what if you disappoint Bruce? You’ve got us now. And if the others don't want you, then, hell, I do. So there,” Roy finishes, beaming broadly while Jason stares at him, mouth parted and eyes round. That blush is back, going all the way up to the kid’s ears and making the blue-green of his irises stand out even more.

After several seconds of silence, Roy cocks his head uncertainly. “You . . . uh, good there, Jay?”

Jason starts, shaking his head like he’s clearing out cobwebs. “Um . . . Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting . . . that.”

Roy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck while shrugging awkwardly. God, he’s not good with emotions. “Hey, any of the others would have said the same.”

"No, they wouldn’t, but . . . Thank you, for that, it . . .” Jason's voice tapers off and he's still staring at Roy as if he'd just found the answer to an extremely complicated case.

Roy shrugs again. “Hey, you just listened to me rant about Oliver for the last half hour, the least I can do is—”

He isn’t expecting it.

Isn’t expecting Jason to step forward, one of his hands curling into the fabric of Roy’s sweatshirt while the other cups his cheek. Isn’t expecting him to hesitate just for a second, eyes darting from Roy’s wide stare to his lips before leaning in. Isn’t expecting Jason to press his mouth against his, kissing him in a way that’s gentle and warm and surprisingly soft.

He certainly isn’t expecting himself to kiss back.

His hands bunch into Jason’s dumb Wonder Woman shirt, drawing him closer. The other boy’s mouth parts with a gasp and a shiver and Roy can taste the cinnamon at the corners of Jason’s lips. He instinctively reaches up to grip black curls and Jason isn't that bad of a kisser, uncertain, maybe, but he's getting the hang of it; letting Roy take control and tilting his head just the right way so that Roy can—

Jason moves forwards, making Roy stumble back into the kitchen island, Jason falling against his chest. And Jason laughs into him, quiet and breathless, before crushing their mouths together. The boy rests his arms over Roy's shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as Roy smooths his palms along Jason’s waist, feeling him shudder again under his touch.

He brushes his tongue against Jason’s mouth, and Jason opens for him immediately; the taste of hot chocolate becoming strong enough that Roy is sure he could get drunk off of it alone. Jason makes another noise, something between a sigh and a moan and—

—And he’s kissing Dick’s little brother. Dick’s fifteen-year-old brother. Dick, who is going to be here any second and will actually kill him if he sees this. Unless Bruce beats him to it. And Donna, fuck, how could he forget about Donna.

Roy isn’t sure if reality hits him or Jason first.

He lets go of the kid and stumbles a half-step away, heart stopping in horror as his actions catch up to him. As Jason jumps back into the wall behind him like Roy is on fire. As a sudden silence fills the air, settling heavily onto his shoulders until it feels like it's crushing him. They stare at each other, panting, and Roy hates the part of him that notices that Jason’s mouth is red and wet and that he’s flushed head to toe.

Jason brings his fingers to his lips, touching them like what had just happened had been in a dream, and he has to make sure it was real. “I . . . We . . . Shit, I didn’t think . . .”

His voice trails off, and Roy swallows numbly. He feels like the ground is shifting under his feet as he prepares for the most awkward talk in his life about why they can’t ever do or mention this again. “Jason—”

“Hey, Roy, you here?”

Dick’s voice explodes through the tense quiet like a bomb, and Roy whips around, brain trying to come up with anything to say. Desperately he looks behind him, to beg through eye contact to not say something that could give them away, but . . . Jason is gone.

Like he had never even been there in the first place.

Fuck.

Roy is still staring blankly when Dick enters the room, shrugging off his winter coat. “Hey, I know you said that Alfred and Jay made some hot chocolate, but I grabbed the key for Bruce’s cabinet anyway because I can’t be completely sober when I tell you what—” Dick stops, voice turning concerned when he sees the look on Roy’s face. “You okay, man?”

Roy opens his mouth. Closes it. The taste of hot chocolate and cinnamon turns to ash in his mouth. Alcohol sounds really, really good all of a sudden.

He smiles, his chest feeling like someone had scraped out an important part of him with a knife. “I’m fine, just really need to be drunk when I tell you about this bullshit Ollie said to me.”

Dick makes an understanding noise, wrapping an arm around Roy’s shoulders as he leads them out of the kitchen. Away from the gentle lights and the smell of chocolate and the way Jason’s lips had felt against his, soft and warm.

He touches his fingertips to his mouth. Dick looks at him. “Roy, really, you seem kind of out of it, are you sure—”

“I’m fine, honest.” He risks a glance back, wondering if he could maybe catch a glimpse of Jason in his Wonder Woman sweatshirt, eyes tired and broken and hopeful. “Just thinking.”

Dick laughs, “Well, don’t do too much of that tonight.”

Roy forces another grin, still feeling the ghost of Jason’s lips tracing his mouth.

“When do I ever?”

[cannotgiveafuck]

Shazam week prompt 3

Hey yall! Guess who couldn't finish the prompts on time last week? Its me! I'm gonna do em anyway!

Prompt 3: Dress Up

---

Billy knew what others thought of him and Captain Marvel. He wasn't as stupid as they thought.

Of the League that knew, and after the shock had worn, majority had settled on viewing him as a child playing dress up. When they interacted with Captain Marvel, they didn't see him as a hero for pantheons of Gods' will, as an avatar that had experience from dozens of previous lives, or even as someone who had already been in the hero business for several years. Even though he stood at over six feet with a physical build to match Superman's, the others still treated him like he was that undernourished kid in a baggy hoodie, like he was less than their teenage sidekicks.

They didn't understand.

When Billy played dress up, it was never with a cape. He never pretended to be a superhero.

[MORE]

-x-

In hindsight, Billy should have been a bit more aware of his situation from the start. Maybe then he would have caught on a bit earlier and gotten out of this on time.

As it were, however, he was good and trapped. 

Not physically, of course. Because he could always get away if he needed to. But socially…

That would either mean alerting his not-quite-kidnapper of his plan when he said his quick goodbyes, thus giving the man the opportunity to plan another course of action, or that meant Billy unceremoniously leaving without any goodbyes. And Billy liked to think he had enough manners to warrant proper departures for his friends.

Were they his friends?

He liked to think so.

Though they did help orchestrate his kidnapping.

"You are supposed to go into the water, Batson. That is how water parks function. Unless you lack the basic skill of swimming, which I should not be surprised at, since you lack a lot of skills."

Thoughts startled, Billy looked up at Damien, arms crossed and face carefully blank except for his glare. Or he was just staring really intently. Billy didn't think the other boy had any other expressions besides varying degrees of annoyance and murderous.

"Says the guy just as dry as I am," Billy said, holding back a pout and going for unbothered. The kid was a freaking ninja.

Damien scoffed, but did not deny that statement. A short silence fell between them, but it was far from the cold or intensely invasive inspection Billy was subjected to when Damien first learned of Captain Marvel's identity.

Billy liked to think they were starting to get along now. 

"Besides," and here was where Billy's hubris shone, he couldn't resist a good teasing. "How am I supposed to relax when I've been kidnapped?"

Damien's glare, if possible, became even more poisonous at Billy's cheeky smile. Good thing Robin couldn't shoot lasers. "This is hardly a kidnapping. You willing joined us."

At that, Billy really did pout. "It's not really willing if I'm shoved into a jet and no one told me where we were going."

The eyebrow raise spoke volumes of how lousy an excuse Damien thought of that. A trait he probably learned from Bruce. And Billy could not help but laugh. Despite his efforts, Damien could be very expressive, and often showed more than he wanted to. 

Or maybe it was just what Billy picked up on. 

He was good at reading people, he knew that. It helped that one of his favorite pastimes was people watching. With a quick glance, Billy noted the locations of everyone else. Their life energies easy to find from the crowd, all of them bright and flaring and something Billy fully memorized, took comfort in.

"I guess there are worse places to be fake kidnapped, though."

Koriand'r was easy to spot, her energy constantly blazing, but invitingly warm, in the corner of his periphery. She was currently enjoying the hot tub with Dick and Roy. Somewhere at the lazy river, Jason was enjoying his giant margarita. Connor was also easy to find, his energy similar to Clark's. Him and Tim were going for their fifth ride down the giant tube slide. Clark had managed to convince Bruce to join him at the bar side pool, both of them saturated, both of them carrying mantles everyone knew and believed in. 

(Belief was a powerful kind of energy, when channeled properly. Though, Billy didn't think either of them really knew about all that. Not when they had their own strengths.)

This was probably the safest place to be on Earth, in the whole Galaxy, and yet…

And yet.

"Okay, well, I'll at least take a look at everything first," he said, finally moving off his beach chair at the poolside. 

Bruce had rented the cabin rooms at the far end, a place specifically for their group, so as to not worry about scrounging for seating. But still, Billy worried. What if someone took their stuff? It seemed highly unlikely, but one could never be too sure. Not that Billy doubted Clark and Bruce to take care of everything, to have been extra prepared with security or whatever. They were keeping aware of everyone even now, but…

Being willingly barefoot on the wet ground was a new thing, but Billy had just been gifted the sandals currently under his chair and they still felt odd on his feet. Unsecure and flimsy. He was never one for sandals anyway, when he had a cheap and sturdy pair of sneakers to last him. The swim trunks, as well, were new and strange feeling, but he couldn't do much about that since he didn't have anything else. Well, nothing that was already his. There were clothes that fit suspiciously well folded in the drawer of the hotel room he was sharing with Damien. The only thing originally his was the white tshirt he was currently wearing.

Since he could not very easily walk around bare chested without raising alarms. People tended to notice large scars on children. Especially when those people were concerned heroes and they hadn't yet been told about it.

"You've patrolled the parameters several times already," and Billy was sort of surprised Damien had followed, had stuck around this long. Though he was less surprised at the other boy's perceptiveness. "Do you doubt my father's preparation for our staying here?" 

That was more an accusation than question, but Billy didn't rise to the bait. "Of course not," his tone edged on lighthearted and exasperated. It was easier to tell others what they wanted than to explain everything, anyway. "Besides, we're in a room full of superheroes. I'm not patrolling, I'm surveying."

That was a lie. 

Damien was right, after all. Billy wasn't looking at the rides or the lounging spots, or seeking out social interactions - he was patrolling. He needed to ensure the area was safe, because yes, Superman could punch a bad guy through the roof, and Batman probably had every protocol prepared on hand, but just in case…

What if someone had violent intentions and hurt a civilian? What if a magical attack was brewing? What if a curse was placed on them all? There were so many things that could happen while they enjoyed their vacation.

So many things could go wrong if Billy let his guard down, if he prioritized himself over his duty as Marvel, over the protection of others.

"You're being ridiculous."

"Huh?" Billy looked back at Damien. The boy looked more grumpy than he had several minutes ago, like he didn't choose to follow Billy around.

There was a shriek in the distance and Billy immediately turned his head.

Damien grumbled in a language Billy did not catch, but knew Captain Marvel would have.

Billy focused back onto him after confirming it was just some kids on the raft slide. 

Maybe it was the harsh smell of chlorine or the absolute relaxation on everyone's faces, maybe it was the shorts that felt unfamiliar or the fact he couldn't see all exits from one spot. It was like an itch he couldn't help but scratch, but it only got worse.

"Come," Damien demanded, walking away and fully expecting Billy to follow. 

He did not.

"You cannot stop yourself from being unnecessary, you might as well do it effectively."

That still did not persuade Billy to follow.

"I'm saying I know where the best place in this room is! You can see majority of the entrances and exits, except for the two closest to Kent and my father."

What did that have to do with-

"Oh," Billy followed.

"The chances of us being attacked are incredibly slim, and of those chances my father and I are rightfully prepared. I admit that even Kent has his uses." This was the most Damien had ever spoken to Billy. And Bruce wasn't even forcing him to. "But there is no such thing as being overly prepared."

With that, Damien stopped talking and Billy realized what was happening. Teasing and snark aside - since that was probably all that the other boy knew about communication with peers - Damien's actions spoke plenty. He had been watching Billy for some time now, to the point where Billy found it incredibly creepy and asked Bruce to tone it down. So, really it should not be a surprise that Damien somewhat knew Billy, or had formed an idea of who Billy was. 

Afterall, with his secret out, Billy had lessened his guard around the others, had stopped pretending to be the naive and innocent child they all believed him to be. The act helped with civilians, but with other heroes it was more of a hindrance. Billy did not need or want them treating him like he was helpless or incapable, like he was playing superhero dress up.

This wasn't some game to him

But still, it didn't seem to change their opinions much. In fact, it made some of them more overly concerned to the point where Billy had to figure out an even ground. 

What version of him fit best around them?

By this point Damien may have seen all the iterations and their nuances. Bruce, too, if Billy were honest. All of it left a sort of dread in his gut. Being realized so deeply.

"This will do. It's the best vantage point without climbing to the very top, which I advise against. My father will get upset and make us climb down," Damien said, experience clear.

The location they finally stopped at was the center point of the large room - a playset tower with the lazy river around it. There were slides and waterfalls and stationary super soakers. Children ran around them in joy, some even their own age. 

Billy couldn't remember being so young. He didn't think Damien could either.

"Choose a station," Damien said as he stood by a posting and pumped the soaker up.

"What for?" Billy asked, though he still picked one nearby and copied the motions. It seemed like Damien had done this before.

"So we can shoot at Todd when he passes by, of course. We are small enough that we can use this structure." 

And just in that moment Jason leisurely floated by, lounging on a tube until a spray of water blasted him in his face and toppled him over.

"Uh. Damien? You sure that was-" 

He was gone.

"Billy!" Jason was making his way over now toward him.

"Oh shoot!" Billy ran.

It wasn't until later, after he had been dunked into the pool and made to play chicken atop of Jason's shoulders against Damien and Dick, that Billy realized the other boy's clever ploy. Billy realized that maybe there really was someone he could be himself around.

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [10/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: N/A

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Tim swerves into the Cave, skidding into the parking area with a little less finesse than usual. He’s got a shivering Batgirl bracketed between his arms on the bike, not having wanted to risk her falling off the back of it while they drove. He’s got a nasty case of frostbite on his shoulder himself, courtesy of a cold grenade in the wrong place and the wrong time.

He was helping Batgirl and Signal with the clean-up after Freeze’s latest temper tantrum and accidentally triggered the blast. Steph shoved him out of the way, taking the full brunt, and it was only due a quick reaction time and a few well-placed portable heating disks that she hadn’t been flash frozen.

She might not have any major lingering damage—she was well enough to request going to the Cave because of Alfred’s tendency to make homemade soup whenever any of them have a less than stellar encounter with Freeze—but Tim’s anxious to get her warmed up as soon as possible.

Also, he needs to treat his own injury.

“If-f I get a cold I’m k-killing Freeze,” Steph mumbles as Tim helps her off the bike and walks her toward the medical bay. “There’s nothing w-worse than a summer cold.”

“Says the woman who survived being used as a human pincushion.”

“It’s a d-different kind of misery.”

There are several heating blankets already plugged in and ready, and Steph is already peeling herself out of her uniform with shaking hands. Tim does the same, tossing aside tunic and body armor to rummage in a drawer for the special heating plasters; they warm an affected area gradually, making them perfect for frostbite.

“Geez, Tim, you been sk-skipping meals again?” Steph reproaches, frowning at him in his shirtless state. “Seeing a lot more rib than usual.”

“You’d do well to take a page out of his book, Brown,” Damian’s voice snarks from the doorway, loitering in all his scowling twelve-year-old glory. “I’m surprised your suit doesn’t split down the back when you move.”

“Shut up, Damian.”

“No, Tim, I got th-this,” Steph pipes up and then shoots the youngest Robin a steely smile. “I’ve g-got Martha Kent’s email. Wonder what she’ll have to s-s-say when she hears about Dami fat-shaming people.”

“You! You are not in contact with her!”

Damian isn’t exactly prone to flushing considering his complexion, but whenever he gets upset or embarrassed, red creeps across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. That, and the minute raising us his eyebrows suggests he’s more rattled by the threat than he pretends.

“I might be,” Steph allows. “You really wanna t-take that chance?”

Damian scowls at that, fists clenched, and then seems to decide not to risk it. It’s like watching the air be let out of a balloon.

Tim whistles.

“How is it a Kansas housewife has managed something not even two versions of Batman and the League of Assassins could?” he asks, somewhat awed.

“Pie and mom-guilt, I think,” Steph suggests.

“Clearly.”

“Hilarious,” Damian deadpans, facing Tim and doing his best to ignore Steph. “If you’re finished casting aspersions on my upbringing, perhaps you can make yourself useful.”

Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

“Father was distracted tonight,” the kid continues. “He won’t explain and Richard’s not here to do…whatever it is he does that makes him somewhat normal again.”

Tim blinks, having not expected that. “What exactly do you think I can do about that?”

“It’s no secret you and Father are experiencing “issues”,” Damian says and uses honest-to-goodness air quotes. “Perhaps seeing you will irritate him into letting something slip.”

“I highly d-doubt Bruce is that upset that he’ll unclench long enough to tell T-Tim anything,” Steph sniggers.

“Perhaps not, but once Drake strikes out I can ask Father after a requisite amount of time has passed and under less fraught circumstances than directly after a fight. He’ll be more likely to confide in me.”

“Right,” Tim drawls. “Because that has a snowball’s chance in hell of working. Pass. How do you even come up with these ideas, anyway?”

“It’s a simple enough ruse, Drake. Jon says it is called “tag-teaming”.”

Again, with the air quotes; clearly Damian’s latest visit to the Kent farm came with another dose of ‘how-to-be-a-real-boy’ lessons.

“And if you think Bruce is gonna fall for that and magically open up about something he doesn’t want to talk about, you haven’t been paying attention the past few years.”

“That’s not what this is,” Steph says, squinting at Damian like she’s trying to read his mind or something. “You’re worried.”

“I am no such thing!”

“You’ve gotta be since you’re asking Tim for a team-up.”

“I am not!”

“Good, because I’m not interested,” Tim says. “Whatever Bruce is brooding about will come out. It always does. Try prying it out of him beforehand and he’ll get cagey and mean about it.”

I know what that feels like, and I wouldn’t even wish it on you, demon-brat.

“Fine, don’t do anything,” Damian growls. “I should have known you would be too pig-headed and cowardly to approach Father while you’re in this pointless...detente.” He turns on his heel. “You’re as useless as I’ve always thought. Good to know it’s been confirmed.”

He stalks away.

Tim sighs and stares at the ceiling. “I guess on a scale of one to stabbed-in-the-chest, that went okay?”

“You two seriously need to deal with your drama,” Steph sighs, shifting beneath her blanket. “And you should go figure out what prompted all that. He really is worried. And hurt, now that you shot him down.”

“His entire existence has been dedicated to shooting me down,” Tim points out. “Literally sometimes.”

“Don’t exaggerate. Not his entire existence.”

“You know what I mean.”

“He’s a kid, Tim. One with a shitty childhood, a massive inferiority complex and who’s about to enter the super-fun world of puberty. And he came to you. Not me, or Dick—”

“Dick’s in New York.”

“Dick’s a phone call away and if Damian really wanted to go get him, he’d have stolen a car and gone to him. But he came to you. Probably because he knows as well as any of us that you’re the most Bruce-like and can talk to Mr. McBroody when he’s at his most pod-person level of weird.”

“Funny, I didn’t hear any of that beyond the constant insults.”

“He’s just jealous.”

“And that gives him a free pass?”

But his question sounds whiny even to him, and he sighs as Steph crosses her arms at him.

“When did you start becoming so wise and all-knowing?” Tim grumbles.

“Search me. I guess I just woke up one day and bam! All the secrets of the universe were just waiting for me to share them with the unwashed masses. Like you. You reek, by the way.”

“Right, because you smell like a rose.”

“Thanks!” Steph chirps unrepentantly.

“I think you are getting a cold,” Tim grumbles and starts out of the med bay. “The snot’s clearly going to your head and cutting off brain flow along with your sense of smell. I should go see if Alfred’s got anything to fix that.”

“Hot chocolate please!” she calls after him. “And don’t skimp on the mini marshmallows!”

“You know the way to the kitchen.”

But he’s already climbing the stairs and heading for the main computer dock. Tim was responsible for a different sector of the city, but it took longer than normal to get the all-clear. Maybe Bruce is distracted—if so, it would have to be something pretty serious.

Maybe Selina’s back in town…

“My god…!” he hears Alfred say as Tim reaches the top of the stone staircase. 

Bruce is seated, Alfred behind him and holding on to the back of the chair so tight the knuckles on his hands have turned white.

“Are you…are you quite sure, Master Bruce?” he asks, the question faint.

“I’m sure,” Bruce replies. “I was sure at the cemetery.” Tim’s ears perk up at that. “And these results…they just confirm it. He’s alive. Somehow…somehow, Jason’s alive.”

Tim freezes in mid-step.

Well…so much for me having to tell them…

He’s relieved.

He thinks.

The situation with Jason has been on his mind the whole week, and he’s never had a harder time keeping a secret than he did trying to stick to his promise to Jason. It’s been a constant struggle between his loyalty to Bruce—remembering how shattered he was in the weeks and months following Jason’s death—and his respect for Jason, a potential ally, friend and maybe one day family.

(He’s been doing his best to shut down the ‘inappropriate childhood crush’ angle during his mental justifications.)

Usually, Tim is good at separating his emotions from making hard decisions, but this time it’s…well. He blames it on still being in a state of shock that Jason is alive and that he has been alive all this time.

And he didn’t come back for some reason, and even now doesn’t want to have anything to do with the Family.

So why come back to Gotham at all, then?

“…looked him in the eyes,” Bruce is saying, in the same tone he uses to profile criminals. That’s troubling. “He’s as determined as ever. I’m not sure if there’s a broader reason for his return—for his…his avoidance. But I have a good idea. It will need confirmation; someone will have to keep an eye on him—”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interrupts, tone breathless and almost indignant. “This is not some criminal mastermind or domestic terrorist. This is your—”

“I’m aware,” Bruce interrupts. “But there’s too much unaccounted for. He had a lot to say and still didn’t give anything away.” He rubs at his chin in thought. “He knew things, Alfred. Information on events he wasn’t present for—that were not shared in the media.”

Tim goes still, suddenly beset with a sense of foreboding.

“He’s communicating with someone,” Bruce goes on in manic calculation. “Someone knew he was alive. He said…'replacement’.”

Well, frack.

Tim begins to take a step back and nearly knocks into Damian, who’s crept up behind him with his usual maddening silence.

“Watch it, Drake!”

Damian’s voice echoes and Tim winces, head whipping around to glare at the boy.

Double frack.

There are moments—few and far between the actual assassination attempts and sabotage—where Damian displays all the bad timing that only younger siblings seem to possess. This is definitely one of those moments.

When he looks back, Bruce is already on his feet and stalking over, cape whipping behind him and expression like a thundercloud.

Damian, for his part, doesn’t seem to realize what he just did as he watches his father in surprise. This is echoed by Steph, who has followed him over, no longer wrapped in the blanket but wearing one of the generic sweatshirts that they keep stored in the recovery area.

Conveniently, they’re both blocking Tim’s nearest means of escape.

And now Bruce is towering over the three of them, eyes flicking briefly across each face, before zeroing in on Tim, who tenses.

“You,” he determines. “You knew.”

Annoyance pricks at Tim. There are two other people beside him, why does Bruce automatically think it’s him.

“Knew what?” Damian demands.

“Not now, Damian.”

“If Drake has committed some monumental blunder, I should—”

“Oh my god,” Steph gasps, her eyes roving past everyone to stare at the computer screen. The DNA comparison is still bright and clear, and in the background the picture of a young Jason Todd is unmistakable. “Is that…?”

“Jason Todd,” Damian reads stiffly, clearly recognizing the name. He scans the relevant information, including the date of the most recent DNA sample. “Todd is alive?”

“So it would seem,” Alfred confirms faintly.

“You’ve been feeding him information,” Bruce accuses Tim, and it’s almost a hiss. “You’re the replacement he mentioned.”

“Technically he had three,” Tim points out if only to try to stall.

“Aside from the fact you’re the only one here who doesn’t look surprised, he referred to a male.” Something passes over his expression, almost a grimace as if he’d rather not think of something, before he continues. “And if it were Damian, he would have informed me immediately.” He takes a step forward, the stony and emotionless countenance of Batman firmly in place. Tim half expects those thick gauntleted arms to grab him and hoist him in the air like so many an unlucky criminal. “You knew Jason was alive. And you didn’t say anything.”

“No,” Tim says, at last, deciding he might as well own it. “I didn’t.”

“Why?”

The sound is primal and broken, somewhere between a hiss and a growl. Tim is aware of the gazes upon him—Bruce’s anger, Alfred’s hurt, Steph’s confusion and Damian looking torn between satisfaction at Tim’s discomfort and agitation at his father’s obvious agitation.

“There were a few factors,” Tim admits. “First of all—”

“Factors?” Bruce barks. “This isn’t an experiment, Tim! This is my—this is Jason—!”

“And he asked me not to say anything!” Tim shoots back. “I figured after everything he’s been through, the least he deserved is someone listening to him.”

Trapped in an asylum and forgotten about? He deserves more than that…

“You never met him! There’s no way you could have been sure it was him, and even so—”

“I didn’t know him?!” Tim challenges. “There are a couple hundred pictures I took that say different! Or have you forgotten how I even got involved in all this?” He sweeps his hand around the cave. “I saw him enough at events when my parents were alive to recognize him, and even if I hadn’t, how many times did you make me go over his file when I started? Foster care records and psychological profile and autopsy reports! Since you needed me to be extra aware of what could happen to me if I screwed up as a Robin? And you might never talk about him around me, but Dick always did. Alfred too, sometimes.”

“That still doesn’t excuse your lack of discretion! You were foolish to interact with him—to make that decision without consulting with me, not least of all compromising the mission by sharing information that could expose everyone—”

“What exactly would I be compromising?” Tim shoots back. “Anyone who could impersonate Jason that well, who could talk about the things we did would already know where all the skeletons are buried. I doubt there’s much I could say that he didn’t already know, and you…you didn’t see him, okay?”

Tim’s defensiveness falters a little here, remembering how tense Jason had been throughout their whole encounter. He was thrown-off, uncomfortable, angry…and he was also trying his best not to let on how curious he was about how the family was doing.

But Bruce only bristles. “You still should have told me the minute you suspected—”

“Told you what?! ‘Hey, so, guess what, I ran into Jason last night. Yeah, that Jason, your son that got killed by the J—”

The name gets stuck in his throat, like his esophagus is closing, causing a crack he knows no one misses. Bruce winces and Steph’s confusion becomes worried. He needs to take an extra breath before he can force himself to keep talking.

“Killed by an explosion’,” he finishes. “We both know you wouldn’t have believed me if I told you he was alive and in Gotham.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Bruce. We both know exactly how it would have played out. I’d tell you what happened, you would tell me how impossible it is. You’d say stuff like you’d know if anyone had disturbed his gravesite, or that I’m stressed out or paranoid or under the influence of Ivy or Crane. Or you’d accuse me of making an inappropriate joke, and then we wouldn’t be talking again for a while.”

For a moment, Bruce looks hurt and a little guilty—probably because he knows it’s true.

“You would never lie about something like that,” he says at last. “If you believed Jason had returned, I would have trusted you enough to look into it.”

“And how was I supposed to know that? It’s not like you and I have exactly been all about great communication and understand since Captain Boomerang and Mr. Freeze.”

“I’ve been…giving you time.”

“Funny how giving me time looks a lot like avoiding me.”

“Master Timothy, that is quite enough,” Alfred interrupts at last.

All of his defensiveness toward Bruce vanishes in the guilt he feels for contributing to that look on Alfred’s face.

“I didn’t stay quiet to hurt anyone,” he tries to assure the old man. “And I was going to tell you all. But Jason asked for a week. For breathing room, I guess. I was going to tell you today—yesterday, really, if Freeze hadn’t shown up.”

“So you say,” Damian needles.

Tim ignores him. “I’d say it’s a coincidence that you found out tonight some other way, but considering what Jason’s into these days, maybe not.”

Bruce blinks in realization. “You know he’s a medium.”

“Yes, I know he’s a—wait.” Tim stops abruptly. “He’s what?” He knew Jason was working with the occult, sure, but this? “That part I missed.”

“He sees dead people?” Steph asks. “That kind of medium? Because I loved that show.”

Suddenly the reasons for Jason being sent to Arkham make so much more sense. Waking from his coma and suddenly be surrounded by ghosts? If he spoke to or acknowledged them, no wonder the staff thought he was hearing voices.

“Wait, how did you find out?” Tim asks, frowning. “You were talking about a cemetery before—that’s not exactly your jurisdiction.”

“Gordon put me on a case involving grave desecrations,” Bruce grunts. “That’s where I ran into Jason.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

Bruce is silent.

Tim groans. “Please tell me you didn’t attack him.”

More silence and Tim massages the bridge of his nose tiredly.

As if he wasn’t gun-shy about reconnecting with the Family before, now he’s probably going to leave for another five years…

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Steph says to Damian in a conversational tone.

“In case you’re forgetting, Brown, I’ve been dead and resurrected, so it’s not exactly a novelty.”

“Master Damian,” Alfred reprimands quietly.

No one likes to talk about that year.

“I just meant you’re not great at sharing, and now you’ve got another brother showing up—”

“Tt. We are not brothers. Any relation on paper ceased when he died.”

“Damian.” Bruce’s voice is sharp as a whip, and his eyes flash in warning. “I don’t ever want to hear that again.”

It’s not the most chastising he’s ever been, but Damian’s jaw snaps shut, and he swallows heavily.

Tim shouldn’t be bothered by the interchange, but he’s still hit by a pang of hurt and irritation. A dark, twisting little voice whispers at him, letting a longtime anxiety flicker back to the surface.

Of course, Bruce steps in and calls out Damian’s behavior when it’s Jason. Is it because Jason was his son longer? Or because Bruce chose Jason? Like he chose Dick and Cassandra. He’s even started choosing Duke now.

He never chose Tim. Not really. Tim just showed up and inserted himself into things.

Damian just showed up too, but he’s got that whole blood connection that he’s so proud of. Tim’s not—

Tim is like Steph. An outsider.

Maybe it’s why they connected to well back then—because they were the two that Bruce tried to stop from joining the life. Grudging allies, never quite family.

“I’m going to go,” Tim murmurs, turning and heading for his bike. “Wouldn’t want to get in the middle of a family meeting.”

“Tim—”

“You should probably call Dick,” he goes on. “He should find out about Jason from you this time.”

“Tim, stop—”

“I have therapy in three hours,” Tim cuts him off, “so I need at least some sleep.”

There’s no response then, not that Tim expected anything. His therapy sessions are sacrosanct; even Batman won’t interrupt Tim’s continued attendance. Tim’s always hated that, feeling as if he’s being overprotected, but right now, all he feels is a sense of relief.

To Be Continued 

________________________________________________________________

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

Reblogging is also majorly appreciated!

[dibs4ever]

Mixed Feelings

A multi TimSteph fanfic by request from @dc-comics-gal

Stephanie stared at the test in front of her. This is what they wanted right? She felt tears welling in her eyes she quickly whipped them. They weren’t tears of joy, they weren’t tears of disappointment either. Honestly, she didn’t know what they were. Then she got a flashback to when she was a teenager

15-year-old Stephanie Brown sat on the toilet staring at the test. Two pink lines. This couldn’t be happening, she was in high school, her dad was in jail, her mom worked constantly, she had just broken up with her jerk older boyfriend who moved to another town. Worst of all she was just starting to gain Batman’s trust. Now what? Sure she had many options but which one was right for her. She jumped when her phone made a loud noise as it vibrated on the marble countertop, she picked it up looking at the text

Tim: Hey where are you? I’ve been waiting on this rooftop for 15 minutes.

She smiled to herself. Tim- He was so sweet and caring and cute. Not to mention he was smart. He was the complete opposite of any guy she had ever dated. Which is why she was surprised when she realized she had a crush on him. But who wouldn’t with that rocking body. Sometimes she felt like he might like her too, but he was dating Cassie so that kinda put a stop to any romancing, which she respected. Besides Tim wouldn’t want her now anyways. She texted him back

I’m not feeling great, think I’ll skip patrol tonight.

A second later her phone vibrated again

Tim: Okay, feel better. Maybe if I get a chance I’ll stop by and check in

Fast forward 13 years and here she was again with a pregnancy test in hand. Except this one was different. This time it was Tim’s, this time they were married and had been for a year. This time the baby was planned.

Looking at the time she realized Tim would be home from his day job at Wayne Enterprise in 15 minutes. How would she tell him? Should she just come out and say it, or think of a cute Pinterest way?”

Stephanie shook her head “If I did the Pinterest way he’d try to break everything down to a science, I’ll just tell him” she said to herself before standing.

Tim arrived home not much later “Hey Steph I’m home.” He shrugged off his winter coat hanging it in the coat closet.

She stayed in the kitchen where she continued to prepare dinner. If she rushed to the door he’d know something was up

“Hey, it smells great in here.” Tim smiles stepping into the kitchen he wrapped his arms around her waist “What’s cooking good looking?” He kissed her cheek

“Chicken noodle soup” she turned giving him a hot spoonful

“Mmmm Alfred’s recipe” he grinned

Stephanie nodded “Is there any other way?”

Tim chuckled “If there is it's wrong”

Stephanie nodded in agreement “How was your day?” She asked moving the soup off the stove then turning to look at him again

Tim shrugged “It was work, doing accounting work for Wayne enterprises is a lot more fun with you there as my secretary” he pointed

Stephanie nodded “I was bored today”

He smiled “Well you were throwing up quite a bit this morning, I think staying home was a good call.”

Stephanie tapped her nails against the countertop “Yeah about that. I ummm I took a test today.” She said slowly

Tim rose an eyebrow “A test? What kinda test? Like Batwork test. Did you hack a database without me”

Stephanie laughed “Of course not, I took a pregnancy test,” she said softly

Tim’s eyes widened “And?”

Stephanie pulled the test out of her back pocket handing it to him

She watched as he examined it, his eyebrows furrowed

“This is positive” he pointed

Stephenie nodded

“You’re our having a baby? We’re having a baby the smile on his face grew “I’m going to be a dad. This is-“

He stopped when he noticed Stephanie’s emotionless expression “Are you okay- with this? I mean this what you want right? If you don’t I mean you can do what you have to do, I just figured since we’ve been trying the last 3 months and all that-“

Stephanie pressed a finger to his lips “Of course I want this Stud” she grinned

Tim smiled “Good cause I do too.”

They gave each other a quick kiss on the lips “Next thing is telling our family.”

Stephanie nodded “I say we see Lee or Dinah first then from there we will make plans.”

Tim nodded “Well thanksgiving just passed. What if we tell them on Christmas. When we are all together “

A small smile formed on her face “I like that idea”

——————————————————-

A week later Dinah informed her that she was approximately 5 weeks along. She recommended that she stop patrolling at the 8-week mark which was almost perfect timing for telling the family. She said that so far everything looked great. Tim was so happy, she had never seen him so happy. She was happy too, it’s just there was—-something bothering her.

Before they knew it Christmas was only one day away. She and Tim say in the living room as the finished wrapping presents.

“You think Nathan is going to like his new bo staff?” Tim asked as he wrapped the gift

Stephanie smiled “He’s Dick’s son and Robin. I’m sure he’ll love it”

Tim nodded “Yeah well he’s also going to be 13 soon. He’s getting to an age where he’s going to start wanting to be his own person”

Stephanie nodded “Not going to argue with you there. Then again Leah is 9 and we’ve never known what to get her”

Tim smiled “I can’t believe our family is going to know tomorrow “

Stephanie smiled “There hasn’t been a new kid in your family for 9 years.”

Tim nodded “I think everyone will be happy. At least I hope so”

——————————————————-

On Christmas, everyone sat around the 10-foot tree the last present seemingly had been unwrapped

“Well if everyone is finished I shall go grab the extra large trash bags and we can begin clearing the way,” Alfred said pushing himself up. Until Stephanie cut him off

“Actually Alfred Tim and I have a present we forgot to give you.”

Alfred smiled sitting back in his seat “Oh really? But you already gave me the new oven mitt set, which I live by the way”

Tim smiled “I think you’ll love this one even more” he handed the elderly man an envelope

The rest of the family looked on confused. Everyone was there, Cass, Jason, Damian, Bruce, Dick and Barbara along with their kids 12-year-old Nathan and 9-year-old Leah. Word was Selina would probably be by later as well. Alfred opened the card, you could tell he was slightly nervous since all eyes were on him

“Congrats you’re going to be a babysitter.” Alfred red the front of the card confused

Cass’ jaw dropped being the first to figure it out

Alfred smiled knowing what it meant as well but opened the card to read the rest “I mean a Great Grandpa -AGAIN!” Baby Drake due in July!”

“You guys are having a baby!” Barbara smiled reaching up from her chair and embracing Stephanie in a tight hug “Finally someone who will understand what it’s like to raise offspring of the Batboys” she joked

Stephanie laughed “Yeah I think I’m going to need all the advice I can get”

“Timmy! You’re going to be a dad.” Dick hugged his brother “You are going to love it, being a dad is a best especially when they are little and think you are the coolest person on earth” he nudged him

“I’m finally going to have cousins,” Nathan said happily

Leah smiled “You mean WE? I can’t wait”

Nathan looked at Stephanie “Even if this kid is a boy I’ll still be your favorite, right Aunt Steph?”

Stephanie smiled placing a hand on the boy's cheek “Of course, you’ll always be my precious angel” she laughed lightly

Then it was Jason who smacked Tim on the shoulder “Well Timbers I didn't know you had it in ya”

Tim smiled then looked at Bruce who had been observing everyone’s excitement “Well Bruce, what do you think?”

Bruce nodded “This is good news, I look forward to your child’s arrival. Congratulations Tim” he clasped Tim’s shoulder

Damian observed Stephanie

“What is it Dami?” She asked releasing

Leah from a hug

The 21-year-old tilted his head “How far along are you precisely”

Stephanie smiled “I’ll be 9 weeks in 2 days” she ran her hand along her still flat belly

Damian nodded “When will you begin to show?”

Stephanie shrugged “I’m still pretty early so this is relatively normal, considering how physically active I used to be. But everyone is different so who knows”

Damian nodded “But weren’t you pregnant before as a teen”

The room became quiet

“Damian, “ Dick said narrowly

Damian rolled his eyes “I am not a child anymore Grayson, I’m just asking a simple question “

Tim stepped forward putting an arm around Stephanie “Yeah but kinda a subject we’ve been trying to ignore”

Stephanie shook her head “Guys it’s fine he’s right” he was right but it wasn’t fine. Truthfully the whole pregnancy so far was bringing up flashbacks from things that she had hurried long ago. Perhaps that’s what had been wrong with her these past couple weeks. She wanted to be mad at Damian for saying what he said but she couldn’t. She really was excited for this baby, and he didn’t necessarily ask anything wrong. She thought she was over her first child’s adoption, why was she suddenly not?

[fatcatsarecats]

JayTim Rec List 1/?

In an effort to extricate myself out of the deep, dark, dank cave that is the marvel cinematic universe (or just marvel in general) for more than two minutes, here is a list of jaytim fics that I recently read, enjoyed and or generally love under the read more. 

Please remember to kudos/like/bookmark and tell the author how much you enjoyed their work! 

READ:

dick grayson, snooping? it’s more likely than you’d think by dragonryder94 Words: ~3k | Complete

dick knows that something is up between jason and tim. he just doesn’t know what...not yet at least.

Comment: A Dick armed with memes and trying to have good ol’ brotherly Bonding Moments™ with Tim and Jason is just downright hilarious. A quick laugh and an absolute banger.

In Which Conner is Meddlesome for Tim's Own Good by GeneratorCat Words: ~2.7k | Complete

“Homecoming dance!” it proclaimed. “Saturday, Oct. 24th”. And then, at the bottom some bastard had written, “Do you have your date yet?”

Tim wanted to scream because no, he didn’t have his date yet, and he probably never would. He was too scared to ask them.

Comment: *slams fist on table* you have no idea how much I love high school aus goddamn and this is the cutest!! Do you want awkward teen angst? Kon being chill but also hilarious??? Tim making a fool of himself??? Then this is it. This wins all.

Plus note: Anything by GeneratorCat is great. Puns everywhere, a humour that will hurt your gut laughing, and a writing style that’s tighter than Jason’s abs.

do you wanna feel a little beautiful, baby by Sister Words: ~42k | Complete

"They're watching me," Jason says, when Daisy Mae has left.

"Who, the drag queens?" Tim says. His face is an inch from Jason's chest, and when the strobe lights flash their way he can see a drop of sweat moving down Jason's pecs. His mind feels staticky, bouncing from general outrage to a general desire to put his mouth on Jason's skin. He's too horny to be rational about any of this.

++

Tim goes to a gay club and finds himself embroiled in one of Jason's cases. Glitter is involved. Also crises of morality. Also booty shorts.

Comment: Case fic, baby!!! Listen, I have many weaknesses and they’re usually words starting with C and case fic happens to be one of them. The case was a riot, the secondary cast was a riot, and the jaytim was a blazing hot riot. This fic is lit from beginning to end. Guns, gangsters, glitter and gays everywhere. Really hits the G spot.

this pen was inked with the promise of you by clarityhiding  Words: ~21k (4/5) | WIP

Everyone has a mark-match, someone whose mark will match their own. No matter what, you will always meet your match after your mark comes in and before you die, it's just a fact of life.

Tim's mark starts to come in the summer he turns twelve. Less than a week later, his match is dead. He doesn't meet anyone at all in the time between.

Comment: I usually steer away from a/b/o fics since gender dynamics is not my thing but this is a goodie. I’ve only read the first chapter of this but I already know this is going to be a great time!!! But by great time, I also mean in a dark sense— @themandylion​ really hits the melancholic, listlessness, apathetic vibes of depression in the most wonderful, nuanced way, and when the emotions come, they’re explosive. Plus, the world building is amazing, and this is all in one chapter!

Cats, Bats, Kittens, and Hatchlings by ThePackWantstheD Words: ~72k (18/?) | WIP

In which Selina finds Jason trying to steal Batman's tires and offers to make his sticky fingers a bit stickier, Bruce finds Tim taking pictures of him and thinks that an orphan can take care of an abandoned boy, and the boys learn that life is a lot easier when there's another sidekick around to talk to.

Comment: This fic took my broken heart—my broken, fragmented, crowbar-shaped holed heart—and lovingly stuck cat shaped plasters all over it. This fic was sweeter than a raspberry mocha with one sugar and cream on top. This fic will probably give me diabetes faster than any sugar addiction. This fic is just pure and warm and will shield me through torrential storms. It’s just that good.

Selina and Bruce as great mentor figures and Stray!Jason (not something I see quite often!) with Robin!Tim. Slow Burn.

Day 5: Fake/Pretend Relationship // Royalty AU by  CatChan

Tim stayed deathly silent, hoping that his iciness alone would convey the weight of his disapproval.

No such luck. The old earl kept prattling on about how much more suitable to rule Tim was compared to his older brother because at least Timothy had been adopted from a ducal family and not street performers.

Tim took a deep breath to calm himself, then smiled as sweetly as he could, and told the old fart that he would be sure to relay his message to his father the king.

Earl Duchamp blanched, and started stuttering. Tim didn't give him any sympathy, or wait around for his rushed excuses, instead storming out of the room.

Comment: Historical AU with exposition that’s so fascinating, it doesn’t feel like exposition. That’s a amazing feat alright. It’s just a lot of fun for such a short chapter (Like a fun pilot episode to a historical tv drama) and I don’t want say too much of the interactions because it might spoil the fic. Suffice to say, the world it builds leaves you wanting more so might as well jump in and read the whole collection while you’re at it.

"Mi cama es su cama" by redrobinfection (ChristmasRivers) Words: ~9k | Complete

JayTim Week 2018 - “Bed Sharing” (Day 6)

Tim and Jason aren’t friends. They’re barely allies at this point. But for whatever reason, they keep crashing each other’s apartments, lairs, and safehouses, all in search for a bed to crash in for a bit. It starts out simple - it’s just a safe place to catch a nap, a safe place to recover after an injury, a safe place to hang - but with each visit, it turns into something more - it’s a welcome place to hang, a comfortable place to recuperate, their safe haven in dire times. It might take awhile, but, slowly Jason and Tim turn into something more too. 

Comment: So I read small bits and pieces of this during Jaytim Week, and while I haven’t fully read it cohesively in one sitting (before I fell into the marvel hole *cough cough*), what I do remember it was that it was a very soft and healing fic. If I had to describe the feelings and associated scenes this fic evokes, it’s a cosy, intimate blanket, and a warm body snoring beside you. Comfort packaged in a fic. Tim’s sleepy/sick talk was damn hilarious, and I really liked the gritty details involved with wound cleaning. I thought it was skilfully described.

Mania by Pisces314 Words: ~6k (3/?) | WIP

“I didn’t realize,” Dick’s voice startles Jason, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on Tim. When he looks up, Dick is staring at them with wide eyes. “That you two were...uh.”

It hits Jason then, what the position they’re in might look like from Dick’s point of view. His restraining hold on Tim, and Tim’s now submissive posture, curled up against his chest, probably look to an outsider like a comforting embrace between two people who are much more acquainted than they actually are. His face flushes, but he doesn’t bother to correct Dick’s misunderstanding.

Comment: @glaciya​ is almost always an auto-read for me. The fact that she can flip from cute space, jolly ranch kisses that kills you from sheer amount of fluff and goodness to this is mind blowing.Just from the first chap, it’s already got a great emotional reveal (count me shooketh), descriptions that really immerse you in the terse atmosphere between all the characters and writing that captures a great deal of nuance/overtone of hurt/comfort. It’s wild. 

Dreams From the Sargasso by RivetingFabrications Words: ~46k (17/?) | WIP

Timothy Drake ventured out to solve the mystery behind his parents' deaths, but being taken captive by the most wanted pirate in history hadn't been part of the plan. 

Comment: RivertingFabrications is also another auto read for me, and while I read this a long time ago, I remember that the JayTim interactions were fiery and terse, on the brink of something great, and the camraderie between Jason and the secondary characters was an absolute joy to read. 

Viking AU | The Red Hunter by @drabblemeister​ Link is only to the first instalment

Comment: The only way I can describe the writing is just, lush. Amazing descriptions of the environment which intermingles with Tim’s inner monologue to create a tension that is off-the-charts and an action scene that demands heavy drums and an orchestra. It’s suspenseful, gripping, and engrossing, and this is only the first two drabbles. 

Casebook of Detective Timothy Drake by chibi_nightowl Works: 5 | Words: ~150k | Series in Progress

Comment: The thing about @chibinightowl is that if you asked me to rec one of her works, I’d probably just start listing off her ao3 portfolio. Everything she writes is gold and I will accept it as actual currency if they let me (one day). 

If I had to pick one (a harsh, cruel, gruelling etc. ask for a mortal like me) it would be this series. A series of case fics with never-was-a-vigilante Detective Tim, a fully fleshed out cast of secondary characters (Tim’s partner in particular is a favourite), exciting, intriguing cases that will keep you guessing and friction with Batman that is riveting to read. Gives me Nora Robert’s Eve Dallas Series and Karen Rose vibes. Love love love love love this series. 

TO READ: 

These are fics on which I plan to read, but the premise sounds too good not to be advertised:

If You Don't Grow by GeneratorCat Words: ~28k (8/?) | WIP

“I need to take care of myself. I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to, you’re just a kid.” God, does Dick know that. He knows what it feels like to be doing things you shouldn’t have to do at such a young age. About feeling like you have to take care of yourself, be strong and useful.

He knows now it’s bullshit.

(Officer Dick Grayson meets Jason on the street.)

((Alternatively titled: In which Dick pulls a Bruce))

Comment: What more can I say. I’m a sucker for flawed mentor types who try their best!!! 

Build A Dream With Me by Myoneloveismusic Words: ~10k | Complete

Tim fell hard and fast when Batman and Robin first appeared in Gotham. He followed them for years, taking pictures, and watching in awe form the shadows. But after one fateful encounter with the second Robin, Tim found himself falling in a different way. Everything got torn apart when Jason died and Tim forced himself to take on the role of Robin if it meant keeping Bruce sane. But when Jason returns from the dead and makes his reappearance back in Gotham, can the two repair what had been blown apart or will they be separated forever?

Comment: Teen!! Angst!! *throws confetti* but also paired up with @my-one-love-is-music​‘s crafty way to frame fic like a movie scene and this sounds like a fun time.

Astra Inclinant by SociallyAwkwardFox (Maze_Runner_Fae) Words: ~30k | Complete

Every hero has a story. A tale spun by the Muses destined to pass from generation to generation, until the end of time. At the time of their conception, Fate already knows the paths they will walk in their lifetime and how it will end. She knows the stars they will see, the people they will meet, the scars they will bear-like badges of honor etched into their skin. With this knowledge, She designates a few to ensure every hero follows the correct path and completes their duty to the universe. These immortal beings act as a hero’s guide and watch over their lives, until their journey is complete. From one hero to the next they go, dedicating their lives to the universe and Fate’s will.  

Comment: A ‘Hero’s Journey’ narrative never gets old (like BP!) and mix that with Greek Mythology and like a great, angsty jaytim fic. Featuring Seer!Tim and Hero!Jason.

Flying Blind by TheSkyIsALie Words: ~4k | Complete

In the wake of a catastrophic loss, it's the path Jason sets that Tim follows back to safety.

Comment: I mean damn look at the summary already! It’s premise I haven’t seen for jaytim before and the tags have the dangerous combo of Domestic Fluff and Hurt/Comfort aka just looks amazing.

Making Amends by writemydreams Words: ~11.8k (3/12) | WIP

A new drug called Cupid’s Heart arrives in Gotham and Blüdhaven. Highly addictive, it also serves as a potent aphrodisiac. Jason enlists Tim’s assistance in rooting out the drug in Gotham and discovering the source. Along the way, Jason hopes Tim will see he’s changed and that he’ll learn to trust him.

What started out as a simple drug case becomes more complex when Dick discovers Cupid’s Heart comes from a resort for struggling couples. Jason and Tim go undercover as pretend fiancés to find the drug, something difficult for Jason since all he wants is to be in a genuine relationship with Tim.

Comment: A case fic!!! And damn, the tags looks delicious, ‘Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fake/Pretend Relationship, and Dick Grayson is a Good Brother.’ It just looks like a really good time.

Turnabout is Fair Play by Skalidra Words: 5.5k | Complete

When Jason gets an invitation to the Continental's latest competition, a simple game, he gladly accepts. It's a bit of fun, an opportunity to win a couple prizes and some recognition. That is, unless one of the other people assigned to his group gets in his way. May the best killer win. 

Comment:  I mean, Skalidra is a guaranteed good time, and she does action scenes better than most published writers. The way she balances detail and action still results in a fast-paced, tense scene so this sounds like a perfect murderific jaunt for a bad day.

At Cosmos' End by RivetingFabrications Words: 11.8k (4/?) | WIP

Tim has quit Starfleet and gone rogue – the system can’t help everyone, despite its best intentions. But when he finds an olden spacecraft in the outermost reaches of space where none should be, he finds more mysteries than answers.

Comment: The tags says you don’t have to be a hard core trekkie to get the gist of what’s going on. It sounds amazing nonetheless.

SPECIAL MENTIONS:

@sociallyawkwardfoxwriter​ and @my-one-love-is-music​ who are both doing Write 365. A crazy feat and not all of the drabbles are JayTim. List of AUs are only from what I recall and there’s more on their blogs!

Write 365 by @sociallyawkwardfoxwriter​

Star Wars AU; Dancer AU; Pacific Rim AU; Tomb Raider AU; Oracle!Tim AU; Werewolf!Jason AU and more.

Write 365 by @my-one-love-is-music​​

Barista!Tim AU; Werewolf!Jason AU; Mermaid!Tim AU; Hunger Games AU and more.

and:

JayTim Week

A place for ongoing JayTim weeks.

Remember to kudos/like/bookmark and tell the author how much you enjoyed their work!

—

Published: 4th June 2018

[sassycassie-s-writing]

I Want One

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Jason Todd/Red Hood, feat. Tim Drake/Red Robin

Rating: PG

Original Idea: I saw a chat post from Tumblr on Pinterest whose dialogue is in the story.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one was so much fun for me to write!

^^^^^

“Hey B?” Dick asked when Bruce answered the call. “Can a friend and I come over from Bludhaven to use the bat-computer in the next couple days? We just need it to run a tracking program that neither of our computers have the processor for.”

“Of course. You know you can, Dick,” Bruce replied.

“Great. Thanks Bruce. But, uh, before you hang up, uh, the friend is a girl. We’re literally just friends—she’s also a few years younger than me so I’d feel a little uncomfortable dating her. Can you tell Jason, Tim, Damian, and them that before we get there? I don’t want to make her feel awkward by getting teased.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Bruce said.

“Thanks Dad. See you in a couple days.”

“See you soon, son.”

^^^^^

“Before we go into the Batcave, I have to warn you,” Nightwing began. I shuffled in my seat. “My family can be a little… intense.”

“Dude,” I said, “your family is the BatFam. I’d expect nothing less. ‘Sides, I can handle them.”

“Don’t underestimate them,” Nightwing warned.

“I won’t,” I said.

Nightwing drove the rest of the way into the hidden Batcave. We climbed out of his car. The lights flickered on. I stared around in wonder.

“Whoa! This is so cool!”

“Thank you,” a deep, modified voice commented.

I whirled to see Batman himself lurking just outside the reach of one of the lights, in full costume. There was the ghost of a smile playing on the edges of his shadowed lips.

“Welcome to the Batcave,” he said.

“Thank you, sir.” I crossed over to him and stuck out my hand. “I’m Star Beam.”

A powerful gloved grip grabbed my hand and shook it. “Batman,” he replied.

“Yeah, I kinda put that together,” I said, voice going a little squeaky.

“B, you’re freaking her out,” Nightwing said, plopping down at a computer that was bigger than my bedroom.

“Apologies,” Batman said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no. It’s fine—you didn’t scare me. I just didn’t think you’d… be here.”

“Well, I make a point to meet my sons’ friends. Just to make sure they’re all hanging out with decent people.”

“… Right.”

“Miss Star Beam, if I can borrow you for a moment, please,” Nightwing said from the computer. Batman nodded towards his son, indicating I should go over there. I nodded to him in gratitude and went over to stand behind Nightwing. “So. Now you’ve met Batman.”

I nodded. “Yup,” I squeaked.

“You a little intimidated?”

“A little,” I admitted.

Nightwing chuckled and plugged his flash drive into the computer to run the tracking program. “Don’t be too intimidated. As long as you fight for the side of justice you’ll never have anything to fear from him,” Nightwing joked. I smirked slightly.

“Good to know,” I said.

As we watched the tracking program do its work, I perched on the arm of the high-backed desk chair and peered at the dozen or so screens in front of me as they all filled with information. Nightwing watched it with placid passiveness but I leaned back, overwhelmed by how much was happening.

Suddenly a thunderous engine roared into the cave. The man on top of it wore a black super suit with a red bat symbol on the chest, combat boots, a brown leather jacket, and a red helmet. I tilted my head down and looked at the newcomer with raised eyebrows.

“I want one,” I said to Nightwing.

He smirked. "The man or the bike?" Nightwing asked.

I smirked back. "Yes."

Nightwing chuckled as the newcomer (who I recognized as Red Hood) killed the engine and swung his leg off. "'Sup, Dick?" he asked, pulling his Red Hood helmet off to reveal black hair and a red mask. "Who's the girl?"

“Dude! Secret identity!” Nightwing protested, gesturing to his mask.

Red Hood put up his hands in surrender, helmet getting tucked under one arm. “Sorry man. I assumed she knew since you kinda suck at keeping secrets.”

“What are you talking about? I’m great at keeping secrets!” Nightwing protested. “I haven’t told anyone you’re still alive.”

“Fair point. So, who’s the girl, again?”

"Red Hood this is Star Beam. Star Beam, this is my brother Red Hood," Nightwing introduced, not looking up from the computer.

Red Hood gave me a once over. "Pleasure to meet you," he said.

"Likewise," I said. We shook hands.

“So, are you Nightwing’s girlfriend? Everyone here knows he could use some action since his last breakup,” Red Hood said. Nightwing’s grip tightened on the computer mouse but he didn’t say anything, letting me handle it.

“No,” I answered placidly, keeping my temper in check. “Just a friend.”

“You’re literally sitting on the arm of his chair.”

“Oh yeah because that is so indicative of a romantic connection,” I said sarcastically. Red Hood actually smirked. “I’m sitting on the arm of his chair, nitwit, because we’re working on a case in Bludhaven together and needed this computer and I don’t see another chair down there and thought standing was a little too annoying.” Red Hood’s smirk grew wider when I called him a nitwit.

"So what're you doing here, little wing?" Nightwing asked, still not looking up from the computer. "Man I really need Red Robin for this…"

Red Hood plopped down in the other desk chair that I previously hadn’t noticed since it was in the shadows, spinning it around and sending it sliding across the tile floor. He shrugged. "Just wanted to stop by and use the computer," he said. "But you're obviously using it."

"We can be done quick if you can get Red to return my calls," Nightwing remarked. "Then he can run an algorithm that’ll pick up on the clues we’re looking for so we don't have to watch."

Red Hood pulled out his phone, yanked off a riding glove, and dialed a number. "Hey, Replacement. Get your…” He glanced at me giving him a raised eyebrow. “… butt down to the cave and help out Nightwing so I can use the computer," he said after a few moments in which no one answered. He hung up. "Expect him in five minutes," Red Hood said. I raised an eyebrow.

"Replacement?" I quoted, confused.

"Yeah. I was Robin. Then I died. Red Robin replaced me as the next Robin. Then became Red Robin."

“Yummmmm!” Nightwing sang under his breath. I snickered.

Red Hood kicked his feet up on the desk.

“Boots. Off. Now,” Nightwing ordered without looking away from the dozen or so screens.

“Fun sucker,” Red Hood accused.

“It’s impolite, Hood. And we have a guest.”

“Another vigilante by the looks of her. You don’t mind if I put my feet on the desk, do you?” he asked me.

“It’s considered bad manners,” I said without answering directly.

“Hood, get your feet off my desk,” Batman called from somewhere in the cave.

Red Hood rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh and set his feet back on the ground. “You guys are all so proper and boring,” he complained.

“Better than Red getting down here and flipping his lid because you’re contaminating his precious computer,” Nightwing pointed out.

“Mm,” Red Hood grunted. He got off the second desk chair and strolled off over to an elevator, getting in it and leaving momentarily.

“You didn’t tell me your brother is hot,” I said to Nightwing.

Who shrugged. “Didn’t know what kind of person was your type so I didn’t think it was relevant,” he said.

I whacked him in the chest. “Nightwing! You and he look rather similar and you’re a handsome dude. You could have told me that!”

“We’re adopted. All of us. Well, not current Robin but—”

Ding! The elevator opened to Red Robin.

“Hey! Wassup, Dick? Jason said you needed a hand on—”

“Red! Do the words ‘secret identity’ mean anything to you? They certainly didn’t to Hood!”

“Ohhh! Sorry bro. I didn’t know we had a guest! J—Hood didn’t mention anything about a guest in his voicemail. My bad.”

Nightwing sighed. “It’s okay, I guess. What’s the harm of knowing first names, right? It’s not like I’m the only with that name in the world. Or even in Gotham or Bludhaven.” He suddenly looked several years older than he was, like his brothers drove him crazy but he still loved them with all his heart.

“Red Robin. Nice to meet you.”

I stood to shake his hand. “Star Beam. Likewise.”

“Right. Let me help. What are you up to?”

“We need you to run the algorithm that searches for certain parameters in this tracking program.”

“No problem. Move.” Red Robin pushed Nightwing’s chair away from the desk and pulled the one Red Hood had been sitting in up to the middle of the desk. “Okay…”

The elevator dinged again and Red Hood stepped back out, now holding a sandwich. “What’d I miss?” he asked.

“Nothing. Red is as bad with code names as you are and is now running the algorithm we need.”

“Hmm,” Red Hood, grunted. “Hey Star Beam, how did you meet this idiot?” He nodded to Nightwing.

I shrugged. “Luck, I guess,” I said. “Right place right time. Or wrong place wrong time.”

“Yeah… we beat up some muggers and both got knocked to the ground at the same moment and bonked heads,” Nightwing said. “But we won!” I nodded.

“So what’s your tragic backstory, Star Beam?” Red Hood asked.

“Who says every vigilante-slash-superhero has to have a tragic backstory?” I challenged.

Red Hood shrugged. “Me. Based on experience.”

“Mm,” I grunted. “I don’t really have a tragic backstory. And even if I did, you’d have be reach Friend Level Four to unlock it.”

“Nerd,” Red Hood said.

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Read Every Jane Austen Novel,” Nightwing said, spinning around in the desk chair.

“Shut up, Nightwing.”

“Hey Star Beam? Nightwing? I think I found what you were looking for,” Red Robin said.

“Mm. Guess my plan to ask Star Beam out to dinner will have to wait then,” Red Hood deadpanned.

Nightwing and I both spun away from the computer monitors to look at him. “What?” we both asked.

“What? Your face is pretty even with your mask on, so I might as well,” Red Hood said. “Life is short and I’ve already died once so might as well embrace impulses to do whatever.”

“Ttthhhanks?” I muttered. “Sure I’ll go to dinner with you sometime.”

“Pick you up in Bludhaven?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Red Robin made a gagging noise and Nightwing rolled his eyes. “Of course this would happen. This is why I never bring friends over! Because you just flirt with them!”

Red Hood shrugged. “Impulsive, remember?”

[iatethepomegranate]

Blue is the New Red Chapter 46

Masterlist

Note that due to tumblr being ridiculous, I no longer post external links on individual chapters. If you prefer to read on AO3, please refer to the masterlist link above.

Rated: M for torture, flashbacks, trauma reactions, PTSD, sexual assault of minors, consensual sexual content and related freaking out about it, drug references, non-consensual drug use, possibly underage drinking, homophobia and biphobia, references to self-harm, suicidal ideation and attempt. Chapter warnings:  animal cruelty, allusions to the sexual assault of minors, mentions of Wally's jerkass dad, hints of PTSD

Main Pairing: Birdflash

Status: Multiple chapters, in progress

Overall summary: Nightwing has finally made his return to the Team, but he finds the events of the past two years aren’t quite done with him yet.

Chapter notes:  Batgirl is participating in her first team mission, and Nightwing is finally back on active duty after his long absence.

Additional notes (and an apology): It's been far too long since I last updated. I'm so sorry. I wish I had a good explanation, but the fact is I just could not get myself into the right mindset to write this, let alone reread what I've written so I can remember how it goes. (See a longer explanation on the AO3 page)

Reminder: dialogue in bold is said through M'gann's mind link.

Chapter 46: Reconnaissance (Maybe)

It took Batman three tries before he was able to let Nightwing on the bioship the following morning. If it hadn't been for the smorgasbord of trackers embedded into every piece of Nightwing's uniform, he probably wouldn't have been allowed to go at all.

Batgirl squeaked when the seatbelt fastened itself over her chest. Nightwing, very charitably, he thought, did not laugh.

“You control the ship with your brain?” she asked Miss Martian once she'd recovered.

Miss Martian nodded. “I can also make her respond to commands from non-telepaths. I'll show you how to fly her one day.”

Batgirl rubbed the seatbelt between her gloved fingers. “Maybe once I've gotten used to this.”

“Wait until you see her shapeshifting,” said Kid Flash.

“You just want her to turn into that version of you with boobs again,” said Nightwing.

“Who can blame me? I'm hot.”

“Oh, grow out of your hormones already,” Artemis complained. “You don't hear Nightwing going on like this anymore.”

There was a very specific reason for that, but Nightwing made a conscious decision not to ruin the mood. At least it shut Kid Flash up, probably because he'd had the same thought. Artemis winced and opened her mouth to apologise, but Nightwing waved her off before she could. Better to just move on.

Miss Martian smiled awkwardly and called Batgirl over to show her how the bioship controls worked.

“Batman said he added colour change options to these suits, didn't he?” said Artemis, pressing various spots on the chest logo of her cold-weather uniform until it switched to her usual green. She pressed it again to switch back to white. “Nice.”

“I told him we wouldn't be very covert if we wore white indoors,” said Nightwing. “Nice to see he listened for once.” Nightwing hadn't had call to wear his new cold-weather uniform until today. Similar design to his usual costume, except in white, plus the cowl that had featured on his cold-weather Robin uniform. For the first time in a while, he felt naked without a cape. If the weather proved too punishing, he might have to add one for future missions.

“You stole that idea from me,” Robin complained. Seeing him in the same cold weather uniform Nightwing once wore brought on a feeling of nostalgia that he thought he'd finally gotten over.

“You snooze, you lose,” he said, shaking it off.

Everyone strapped into their seats and Miss Martian willed the ship into flight. It would take a few hours to reach their destination and Nightwing could barely contain his excitement. After such a long time of being stuck on the sidelines due to a never-ending parade of bullshit, he was finally back where he wanted to be, with his best friends in the whole world. There was that nagging fear in the back of his mind about what would happen if they came across the al Ghuls, but the likelihood of that happening was so remote that it didn't take more precedence than that.

Besides, there was nothing better at sharpening his focus than a good old-fashioned team mission. He already felt a thousand times smarter and they'd only just left home base.

“This is exciting,” Batgirl admitted. “I had no idea there was a team like this until a few months ago. How did you convince the Justice League to let you do this?”

“Well, to be fair, it started when KF, Aqualad and I broke into a supervillain's science lab without anyone's permission,” Nightwing said. “Then we found Superboy in a pod and busted him out. We also may have blown up the place, just a little bit.”

“Then we had to wait a thousand years for them to officially approve the team,” Kid Flash added. “Supey crashed at my place in the meantime.” The corner of his mouth tightened. “Well, I wouldn't call it my place anymore...”

“You've mentioned something about your dad before,” said Batgirl. “Ages ago, at that gala where you embarrassed Nightwing with that Enrique Iglesias song.”

“I'm amazed you remember that,” Kid Flash replied. “I don't even remember what I told you.” At least that eased some of the pain out of his expression, even if they were still talking about it.

“I have an eidetic memory,” Batgirl said. “Comes in handy. You mentioned Dick's—I mean Nightwing's—dad took the news about you two better than your own dad did.”

“Yeah...” His mouth tightened again. “He kicked me out of home last year. Been staying with my aunt and uncle.”

“That's horrible. I'm so sorry.”

Kid Flash shrugged, but no one believed he meant it. “My aunt and uncle have had all of us in the same room for a family dinner so it's not like he and Mum are out of my life completely. Just... mostly. I'm gonna invite them to my graduation. No idea if they'll show. No point dwelling on something I can't do anything about.”

Nightwing rested his foot on the edge of Kid Flash's seat; they were too far away for hugging, even if that's what he really wanted to do right now. A friendly foot of support would have to do.

“You really remember everything?” Zatanna asked Batgirl, who grasped onto the change of topic.

“No one remembers everything,” she replied, “but I can get pretty close.”

“Impressive,” said Aqualad.

The conversation very pointedly moved on, but Kid Flash had this faraway look in his eyes, even as he went through the motions of smiling and nodding at what the others said.

“Hey,” Nightwing said quietly. Superboy would hear, but he was pretty good at pretending he couldn't.

Kid Flash sighed. “I'm fine, babe. I just miss them sometimes.”

“I know.”

“I don't know whether I'm more afraid they'll come to my graduation and be horrible, or they won't come at all.”

“You sure you wanna invite them?”

“Yeah. I wanna know they care. If they care.”

“Whatever happens, you're surrounded by people who love you. And we're fully prepared to fight your dad if you want.”

Kid Flash snickered, just a little bit. “Please don't. He'll think we're moving into the final phase of the gay agenda: eliminate the heterosexuals.”

Nightwing cackled. “I'll pencil it in after brunch.”

The issue wasn't resolved, but the levity helped in the short term. Kid Flash relaxed in his seat over time and his father slowly filtered out of everyone's minds. There'd be time to deal with that can of worms later. No need to let it spoil the upcoming excitement of the mission.

Nightwing was so ready for this.

Miss Martian had to land the bioship a mile away from the facility due to a lack of surrounding cover, plus the thermal imaging at the base. Small groups wearing insulated costumes would have a better chance of slipping in undetected.

The team split into their squads and put some distance between each other, the better to trick the sensors. Zatanna prepared a teleportation spell for alpha squad while Nightwing hopped on Kid Flash's back for beta's run to the facility. Rocket expanded her bubble to include Superboy and Robin to improve the speed of gamma.

Alpha would arrive first and relay any immediate findings to the other squads. Batgirl was already a talented hacker and could handle any low-risk hacks, though anything more serious would have to await Nightwing's arrival. Batgirl was a quick study and would surpass him eventually, but that wasn't today.

Nightwing buried his face against Kid Flash's shoulder as they began to move. They screeched to a halt maybe a minute later, but he didn't get the chance to climb down before Batgirl's voice was in his head.

“I've got a virus into the external cameras. Nightwing should be able to take out the infrareds with minimal interference.”

“Thanks, BG.” Nightwing climbed off Kid Flash's back and they pressed themselves against the dull stone wall that surrounded the entire complex.

Miss Martian dropped to the snowy ground and rolled a few times. “There. My body temperature should blend into our surroundings if I'm quick. I'll find the sensors for you.” Martians already ran cooler than humans anyway. She camouflaged and phased through the wall.

“We're definitely safe from the infrared cameras here, right?” said Kid Flash.

“As long as we stick to the wall,” Nightwing replied. “The walls are insulated and the exterior cameras angled to watch for approaching invaders, remember?”

“I may have dozed off in the briefing a little bit.”

Whatever smartass reply Nightwing was cooking up had to be aborted when Miss Martian reappeared. They hugged the wall as they slipped in through a gate, the guard already unconscious, and then legged it to the security station.

Said station was a rickety little shack with a tin roof and a door thicker than its walls. Nightwing slipped inside with Kid Flash while Miss Martian stood guard outside.

Nightwing found a port on the three-monitor computer's CPU and pulled a plug from his wrist computer. He went slowly at first, just poking around in the guts of the programming to see what he had.

“Looks like the al Ghul techs added a shutdown sequence in a hurry,” he said, leafing through the programmers' documentation attached to the code. “Not part of the original programming. It's tied into some functions deeper in the facility.”

“Can you turn them off without alerting anyone?” asked Aqualad.

“I can make it look like a malfunction, but they're gonna know about it.” It wasn't ideal, but that's what he had to work with. “Are you in position? We won't have long to get inside, and we'll have trouble getting out again if they fix the system faster than we can work.”

“Perhaps we should consult Batman. It may affect the League's mission if we are discovered.”

“Make it quick. We had to knock out a guard to get here and I don't know if there are any alarms in this system.”

There were a few tense moments, each longer than the last. Nightwing half-expected they would have to fall back, but Aqualad's voice filled his head again, giving the go-ahead to shut down the infrareds.

It only took a moment. He'd had plenty of time to plan how to do it, after all. Then they hurried out of the security building and through the nearest door, Miss Martian taking point. Invisibly.

“I found an alarm system,” Robin said. “Doesn't look hard to turn off but, you know...”

“Looks can be deceiving?” Nightwing replied.

“Well, this is Ra's al Ghul we're talking about.”

“If you are concerned, perhaps we should leave it alone,” said Aqualad.

“Sure thing, boss,” said Nightwing. “We'll avoid detection the old-fashioned way.”

Kid Flash stifled a snicker beside him. Old-fashioned for him meant tripping over things and falling right into the people they were trying to avoid. So maybe they wouldn't do that.

“Our priority is reconnaissance,” Aqualad pointed out. “No unnecessary risks.”

“You ever notice how our recon missions always end with explosions?” said Kid Flash. Aqualad didn't respond, but his annoyed vibes through the link got the point across. The link wasn't typically strong enough to pick up on specific emotions, but Aqualad was uniquely talented in that regard. He'd certainly had plenty of practice making his frustration with the team's nonsense clear without uttering a word.

The corridors were long and made of soulless concrete. It was not like Ra’s at all. He preferred old-fashioned stone whenever possible, but maybe it didn’t hold the heat in this climate.

“What’re you thinking?” asked Kid Flash

“This place doesn’t look like an al Ghul original,” Nightwing replied. “Maybe it’s an adaptation for the cold weather, or he doesn’t care about aesthetics in a facility he’ll rarely visit. I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Maybe he didn’t build it,” suggested Artemis. “He could’ve found it abandoned or killed the original inhabitants.”

“Possibly. If he was desperate enough.”

Unfortunately, Nightwing had been hoping for a more traditional interior, because there tended to be little alcoves that made good hiding spots. No such luck here. He spotted a heating vent and Miss Martian floated up to test if it would open, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Fused shut,” she whispered. Damn it.

“That’d be too easy,” Nightwing muttered. Ra’s knew about the batfamily’s tendency toward air vents and had clearly taken steps to thwart their use.

“I could get it open,” Miss Martian said, “but it would make too much noise.”

They continued, peeking into solid metal doors as they went. Each room looked like a horror movie version of an examination room, some with beds or dental chairs or even metal tables. No computers or samples yet. Nothing they could work with.

“Found something,” said Batgirl. “In the heart of the facility. Some kind of computer server. There are cages, too. We haven’t gone inside yet. I think there may be an elevator in there. Get here quick.”

“On our way,” said Nightwing. Kid Flash’s running would be too loud, so they ran at a Nightwing-level pace instead. Well, Miss Martian flew a little ahead with her camouflage.

If there really was an elevator, maybe that would explain why there was so little of use on this level. It made sense, really. Any infiltrator worth their salt could get in here. Maybe the central chamber was more difficult, or at least the fact it was central would deter all but the most determined snoops. Ah, language.

All three squads met up at a giant pair of metal doors, all taking turns to peer inside. The door was electrified shut, linked to a keypad beside it.

“Does anyone else think it’s strange we haven’t seen anyone aside from that one guard?” said Robin.

“Super strange,” Nightwing agreed. He pressed a button on his mask and scanned the keypad, lighting up four fingerprints that denoted the most commonly-used buttons: 5, 7, 1, 4. There were 24 permutations of those four numbers, and trying them all in a brute-force strategy would undoubtedly trip another alarm.

There was a camera on the wall behind the team, which was dead. It must have gone off when the infrareds did… Nightwing hoped. If he could break into the system and find the camera footage for the code.

“I need to find another security room to have any chance of cracking this without ruining the mission,” he said. Sadly, Ra’s al Ghul knew better than to use WayneTech. “Think there’s one inside, or do we have to go all the way outside again?”

“We passed one on our route,” said Batgirl. “It’s a few doors down that way.” She pointed behind her, to Nightwing’s right.

“What do the rest of us do in the meantime?” asked Rocket. “I feel silly just standing around.”

“We look for alternative entrances,” said Aqualad. “I want everyone to know this place so well they could walk it blindfolded.”

“Now you sound like Batman,” said Robin, as Nightwing took Miss Martian and Kid Flash down the corridor to find the security room.

“I will take that as a compliment. Begin searching.”

The security room was the third door on the left of the concrete corridor. Nightwing had to swallow bile, because the stack of cassette tapes on the wall reminded him too much of Skinner’s compound. He shook his head to clear it.

“Get a fucking grip, Nightwing,” he muttered, crossing to the computer on the cheap grey desk before Kid Flash or Miss Martian could question or comfort him. It was a modern computer with a flat-screen monitor, and it took him moments to break in. Fortunately, the video records were archived on the computer itself. The tapes must’ve been old. Good. He didn’t want to look at them again.

Nightwing also didn’t want to delve too deeply into the video archives. He found a digital map of the facility with all the cameras marked and downloaded a copy to his wrist computer. He also passed copies to Robin and Batgirl.

He found the central chamber on the map and made a note of the camera’s codename: AX253. He then found that folder in the archive and started sifting through the footage until he found someone using the code. It was a bad angle, but it was all he had. He ran the video a couple of times and finally figured out the first digit: 4. That brought the possible number of combinations down to six. Better, but still too many to risk a brute-force approach. Most systems got antsy after more than three attempts, especially in places such as this. If he could piece together at least one more digit…

“What’s taking so long?” said Superboy. “Whatever you did to the cameras could’ve been fixed already.”

“It hasn’t,” Nightwing replied. “I need a few more minutes. Got one digit figured out. Need at least one more to make brute-forcing an option.”

“Genius takes time,” Kid Flash added. Nightwing would’ve elbowed him and told him to shut up, but he was busy.

He sifted through the footage and found a shorter person. Both people had been wearing labcoats. This one was a woman, and she fumbled the combination the first two times because her hands shook. She got it on the third because she went slowly, enough that Nightwing could pick up the whole combination. That was nice. He also knew the keypad could take at least two mistakes.

The combination was: 4157.

“Got it,” said Nightwing. “Anything cool on your end?”

“No luck,” said Zatanna. “That door is our only way in and out.”

“Wonderful.”

They headed back to the door and Nightwing keyed in the combination. The door buzzed and released. Aqualad tested the handle, and it turned.

There were more metal tables in the room, and fur was stuck in some of the cages. Nightwing made a beeline for the enormous computer that took up an entire wall, dragging Robin and Batgirl with him.

“Find another way down if you can,” Aqualad said. “I would prefer not to use the elevator.”

“Bit of a fire hazard if it’s the only option,” Kid Flash quipped.

“Would Ra’s al Ghul care?” said Robin.

“Probably not,” Nightwing replied, pulling a cord from his wrist computer and plugging it into a port. “As long as he gets out in once piece, most of his people are expendable. Hell, even he is to an extent. Yay, Lazarus Pits.” He shook off a sick feeling at the green memory and focused on breaking into this computer, explaining his steps to Robin and Batgirl as he went.

It was a simple enough task to log in and poke around in the files.

“Nightwing, what are we dealing with?” asked Aqualad, who was examining the elevator across the room.

Zatanna had freed some fur from a cage and was feeling it between her fingers. “This is real fur. A wolf, I think?”

Nightwing found some research notes. “I’m not sure what I’m looking at yet yet. KF, get your science brain over here and help me make sense of this. I think we’ve got some test results.”

“All the test subjects have codes,” said Batgirl, pointing to the screen. “Can we find what those mean?”

“Sounds like a good starting point,” said Kid Flash, zipping over to them. He rested his hand on Nightwing’s shoulder, leaning in to get a look as Nightwing sifted through the files until he found a name authority file. “Maybe that’s it.”

Nightwing opened it. “Each code translates to a Latin name and a number.”

“Scientific animal names?” Kid Flash suggested.

“Makes sense,” said Robin. “Zatanna, can we look at that fur?”

Zatanna brought it over. Between the five of them, they were able to identify most of the Latin animal names. Lots of wolves, which made since given the grey animal fur. There were also foxes, various kind of large-breed dogs, large canines, and even horses and a bear or two. Nightwing swore he saw the scientific name for an African elephant as well, which was just upsetting and made him think of the circus.

“So, they’re doing animal tests here,” said Kid Flash. “Can we save some of this data? Uncle Flash would have a field day.”

“I’ll save as much as I can,” said Nightwing. “We still need to take a look downstairs.”

“The elevator is not code-protected,” said Aqualad. “It would appear we are clear to use it, if there is no other option.” He sounded less than enthused. Nightwing couldn’t blame him. You never wanted to get stuck in an elevator when you weren’t supposed to be there at all. Sure, they could try the elevator shaft, but it was a bad idea when you didn’t know if you could get in and out of the elevator if the need arose.

Nightwing went back to the test results, but even knowing the code meanings wasn’t much help. He downloaded those records and went searching for a thesis statement that would explain all this.

Finally, he lucked out:

Mission: devise a method to command dangerous animals to control human population levels.

Classic Ra’s al Ghul. Environmentalism through genocide. How exactly was he trying to command these animals?

“There a lot of information,” Nightwing said. “We should probably leave a small team here to gather as much as possible and keep a lookout for any patrols. There has to be a reason we haven’t encountered many people yet.”

“Robin, Batgirl, are you confident continuing Nightwing’s work here?” asked Aqualad. “We may need him underground.”

“We can do it,” said Robin. “He’s done the hard work already.”

“Very well. New squad assignments: Robin, Batgirl and Rocket are to stay here. Everyone else, with me. Should we need to split further, I want Superboy and Kid Flash protecting Nightwing.”

Nightwing almost made a smartass comment, but it did make sense. He was the only hacker going underground. If something happened, the rest of the team could become trapped if they were unlucky.

They headed to the elevator and peeked inside. There was a hatch up top. Superboy gave Nightwing a boost so he could test the opening. It budged without too much effort, so Aqualad pressed the down button and they all climbed out the hatch. If anyone was in the room below, better they saw an empty elevator than one full of invaders.

Nightwing crouched on top of the elevator beside Zatanna as it lurched downwards. He checked over the blueprints he’d downloaded, but they didn’t provide any information on the bottom floor. They were going into this without any knowledge of what was down there.

“I figured out why the infrared cameras need to be turned off,” Robin said.

“We figured it out,” Batgirl cut in. “These animals are controlled by radio and light signals. The canine and feline animals are controlled by high frequencies, but some of the others are controlled by low frequencies.”

“The cameras interfere with the signals,” said Robin. “Also, they’re probably jammed full of machinery. Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” said Aqualad. Aloud he whispered, “Be ready. We could find anything down here.”

The elevator shuddered to a halt and the doors pinged open.

“Hello?” came a voice. “Who’s there?”

“Oh, god, has someone come to rescue us?” came another voice.

“Please, show yourselves.” A third voice.

The team shared a look.

“I’ll go,” said Superboy. “They’ll recognise my logo.”

“And you’re harder to shoot,” Artemis added.

Superboy didn’t dignify that with a response. Aqualad gave the okay, and he dropped through the hatch.

“Superman?!”

“That’s Superboy, genius. God, I thought you had a PhD.”

“Care to tell me what’s going on here?” Superman said.

“We were kidnapped months ago to work on cybernetic animals.”

“Are there more of you?” asked Superboy.

“Yes! Are you going to get us out?”

“Sure.”

Superboy followed the three people out of earshot, so Superboy narrated through the mind link.

“They’ve taken me to another door. There are dozens of scientists in there. One of them is telling me they have been stuck here for days. They have to swipe identity cards to get back in the elevator, but they stopped working. Someone needs to stay in the elevator to keep it open for us.”

“Can you get to the scientists?” asked Aqualad.

“We should… no. Their cards have stopped working on this door and they don’t know what would happen if I broke it. We need Nightwing.”

Aqualad nodded to Nightwing, who dropped into the elevator with Kid Flash.

This room had even more cages, and the metal tables were covered in fur and stained with blood. Kid Flash shuddered. Superboy and the three scientists were on the other end of the room. Someone inside the room was beating against the glass.

“Hi, everyone,” Nightwing said. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.” A scientist offered her key card and Nightwing tested it on the keypad. It didn’t respond at all. “Do the upstairs security features affect these cards?”

“No,” said the scientist. “We have to swipe for all the rooms around here. We can’t do our tests if we can’t get the doors open.”

“Are there any animals left on-site?”

“No,” said another scientist, wiping sweat off his brow. “Soldiers came in and loaded them onto trucks a few days ago.”

“Did they leave us to die in here?” said the third. Nightwing decided against answering, because the answer was absolutely yes.

“We’re here now,” he said instead. “What kind of security measures are down here?” The keypad didn’t accept any codes and had no way to plug in and open it with his computer.

“Not many,” said the first scientist. “We have emergency buttons to shut down everything, but I don’t think anything happens with the keypads.”

“Okay, but just in case, we have to get everyone out quickly,” said Nightwing. “Aqualad, we might have to smash the security measures to get people out of this room. Are we ready for that?”

“This is supposed to be recon only,” said Aqualad.

“I know. Call Batman while I see if we’ve got any other options?”

“I will. One moment.”

“I’m going to see if there’s another way to get this open,” said Nightwing, “but there’s a very good chance I’ll have to ask our muscled friend here to tear it off to get at the wires instead. Do you have any computers you can access?”

The scientists showed him to a few laptops. He saved the research files on there but couldn’t find a way to get into the security system. He hadn’t expected anything, given these scientists were prisoners and possibly geniuses, but it was worth a shot.

“Batman gives his approval to get the scientists out. He is sending backup to take them from there. We are to rendezvous at the front of the facility and then head home.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Nightwing. “Okay, I can’t see any other options. Superboy, could you rip that keypad off the wall for me?”

Superboy tugged it off like a piece of gum from his shoe. The door was still shut, so Nightwing dug around in the wires until he found the right two and tapped the copper ends together to complete the circuit. The door slid open.

“Everyone out, please!” he called. “Go straight to the elevator. No dawdling.”

The trapped scientists flooded out and headed for the elevator. Nightwing nudged their three new friends to join the crowd. Not everyone could fit.

“We’ll take this group up and come back,” said Aqualad. Nightwing relayed that to the people stuck in the room.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he promised. “Our teammates will be back with the elevator in a few—”

A growl erupted from one of the other rooms.

“Um,” said Kid Flash, “didn’t the scientists say those soldiers took all the animals?”

Well, shit.

[jennacha]

here’s a big rant about The Child Thief

ok i have a big confession to make

I’m kind of obsessed with the book The Child Thief.

It’s not a particularly good book. In fact, I would go as far to say it’s poor. The writing has the cadence of 15-year-old-going-through-their-novelist-phase. I guess I could say it reads like fan fiction. The plot is very messy. The characters are badly written. It feels like a book that wasn’t edited. The word “magic” is used a lot, and it’s embarrassing. There’s a part where a character slams their fist on the ground and yells “WHY?!” and it’s embarrassing. The dialogue feels like it came out of a 1990s teen adventure fantasy movie trying to imitate the success of a Corey Feldman/Haim movie. Several times throughout the book the thought, “Why did the author do this?” popped in my head. However, the author is a fantasy illustrator, so the descriptive writing is a plus. He knows how to illustrate the landscape with words as well as he would in painting. The book is not a special unit dumpster fire piece of shit insult to literature; in fact, as far as I know a lot of people like it and it has gotten a decent amount of praise. It’s just not very good, in terms of the surface level writing. But I can easily see a lot of people enjoying it for basic entertainment value.

So that would be my YA-focus blog summary review of the book.

My public outcry summary review of the book is this:

I’m obsessed with the book because it’s so fucking weird.

It’s so fucking weird in that it’s a perfect shitstorm of the author not knowing what he’s doing, and thinking he’s knowing what he’s doing. Like a perfect bad B-movie that exhibits textbook schlock where the director is incompetent and clueless but lacks any self-awareness, in terms of style, layout, and production.

But also, the author thinks what he’s doing is…cool.

The book is about evil Peter Pan.

I could end this whole thing right there. But I must release these hounds. I’ve been needing to let all this out.

My wretched insanity craves affirmation.

This book should be a carbon copy of every other average to below average dark fantasy novel that you see on the bookstore shelves and never heard of and wonder what the author is doing now with all their not-fame. This book should be one that could’ve been written by anybody and it wouldn’t have made a difference. This book should be one of sixty million examples of nothing special. In a way, it is definitely 100% yes definitely yes all those things. The universe decided that I would be the bearer of the burden of having much stronger feelings about it then necessary. I probably feel more strongly about it than the author ever did. It is in my life now.

The biggest thing about this book being so fucking weird is the mind boggling tonal inconsistency. There are a number of shifts in universe-encompassing moods, which go from “Christopher-Nolan-but-also-kind-of-Stephanie-Meyer-dark-gloomy-the-world-is-unhappy-and-I-like-it-that-way”, to “David-Fincher-the-world-is-ACTUALLY-awful”, to “Oh-right-this-is-a-Peter-Pan-story-whimsical-fun-Goonies-meets-Disney-Channel-original”, to “A-worse-version-of-The-Hobbit-movies-with-some-redeeming-qualities”, to “Quentin-Tarantino-literally-wrote-this.” This isn’t hyperbole. The writing language can be REALLY EMBARRASSING and straight out of a Disney movie. That tone of a fun romp for the whole family is cradled by an abundance of swearing, unsettling fantasy-horror, and extreme, shocking violence.

You know when you’re watching Beetlejuice, and you’re like “Okay this movie is for children” and then out of nowhere Michael Keaton goes “NICE FUCKIN’ MODEL” and grabs his dick.

In The Child Thief, THAT washes over you every time you finish reading a sentence. Only, it’s as if you’re watching Hook, and at one point Robin Williams slices a person’s face off, and the camera stays on the faceless person for a minute and Steven Spielberg walks into frame and points to the gurgling faceless head and describes to you how you can still see the holes where the mouth, nose, and eyes were.

(Yes that actually happens in the book.)

Or if you’re watching Neverending Story and at one point you get expository dialogue explaining how Atreyu was pimped as a boy and had to live on the streets because his mother was, uh, a drug addict or something?. 

(That also happens.)

Or if you’re watching Indian in the Cupboard and the film opens with a little girl about to get raped by her dad.

(I’m serious.)

Or if you’re watching Hocus Pocus and Bette Midler is a vampire and she preys on a 6-year-old kid and neither of them have shirts on.

(I swear to god.)

Or if you’re reading a modern re-imagining of Peter Pan and the story involves blatant themes of gore in acute descriptive detail, mass murder, torture, and scenes with naked women and perverted fantasy-creature-men.

(Oh, wait.)

You’re probably thinking, “All those themes are found pretty much everywhere in every medium, especially the naked women and perverts. Big whoop.” I’ll add, then, all those themes, involving children.

Now you’re thinking, “Jenna don’t you love that movie Drag Me To Hell which involves a child being murdered within the first 2.5 minutes?”

Just hear me out and yes.

The Child Thief is entertaining in how CAPTIVATING the strangeness is. The tonal mishmash of kid-friendly meets rated-R is something I actually like, when it's a hit. I like things that have a quality of whimsy amidst dark themes. Movies such as Temple of Doom, Gremlins, Return to Oz, Darkman have this quality…basically almost every movie from the 1980s during the period when audiences had grown up with movies after censorship was abolished and half the world said “think of the children” and the other half said “no.” There are tons and tons of other examples in every medium of how general tonal contrast makes for unique and effective works of art. My point is, this specific type of tonal contrast also can be done well.

But those movies don’t open with attempted child rape, and they don’t end with children literally being mowed down in a grisly battle scene (I’m serious). I’m making a lot of comparisons to movies because the book almost feels like a movie, in that the author isn’t a novelist, he’s a visual story-maker who wrote a book because he knew that no movie studio would pick this shit up. Maybe the films I listed didn’t intend for tonal contrast to be a calculated driving element for their stories, but the subtlety of tones in those movies allows for one encompassing, harmonious tonal blanket to wrap them in. There is no subtlety in The Child Thief.

The tonal confusion of The Child Thief is, I almost wanna say coincidental. I think the author just didn’t know how to write well, but he’s a very dark visual guy and had all these dark visuals in his head ready to be unleashed. All the horrible violence and awful themes are fine in and of itself, but they aren’t earned if the attitude of “I’m gunna turn the children’s book foundation on its head” isn’t committed to, and “I’m gunna subvert everything you know and love about Peter Pan” isn’t calculatedly plotted out. The author has a bad sense of humor, a poor understanding of what is required of an epic storyline, and treats violence, horror and revenge less like a literary device and more like a fetishization of coolness in a vulgar display of power as a writer.

The misguidedness goes as far as the character writing. None of the characters’ motivations make sense. The author couldn’t keep track of either committing to one motivation or the other, a lot of the times for the sake of the plot. Especially with the Peter Pan character. He’s basically literally the anti-christ (this is 100% canon, if the author says it isn’t then he’s a liar and an idiot) and written like a “troubled villain” but then gets these VERY polarized directions of unrelenting psychopathic Cause It’s Die Motherfucka Die Motherfucka Still, Fool villainy and ham-fisted humanism and victimhood. It’s a case of like, the author meant for him to be the charming bad guy who tricks the audience into being on his side because that’s what Peter does to the characters in the book. But the author found him too cool and wanted to be his friend, but in order to justify being friends with a character who wants to murder everybody, he inappropriately gives him remorse and forces the reader to feel bad for him.

And like all the kids in the book are supposed to super love Peter Pan but the version of Neverland is like this horrific, NIGHTMARE HELL of a place and the kids are basically being used to fight in a war, and all the kids are totally okay with it, because their lives in the real world were really awful and the whole thing is that Peter “saves” them and they’ll do anything for him. And it’s like, okay???????????????????? But wouldn’t it be cooler if the kids were like okay this guy is a fucking psycho and Neverland is a horrific, nightmare hell and I’m learning a lot about myself right now having once trusted him???? And then in their retaliation Peter would show his true colors and enforce aggression onto them in serving as his personal enslaved militia? And it becomes like this inner circle of conflict? And since Peter is the only person who can bring them back to the real world, they play ball but hope to steer their own agenda out of the situation? OH, right, that DOES happen, but with ONE of the characters. ONE. Conveniently, the main character. And god knows there can’t be more than one smart human being at a time.

But if you want to SUBVERT the BELOVED CHILDREN’S STORY FORMAT wouldn’t it be fun to do PETER PAN VS. THE LOST BOYS? Instead of MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE PETER PAN AND THE HOT TOPIC LOST BOYS VS. THE ONLY SEMI-SMART MAIN CHARACTER? Like wouldn’t it be GREAT if the characters WEREN'T DUMB? And the author put in some CONSTRUCTIVE, CHALLENGING CREATIVE EFFORT and treated the interactions like a CHESS GAME instead of a CONTRIVED MISUNDERSTANDING BETWEEN JOEY, ROSS, CHANDLER, RACHEL, MONICA AND THE OTHER ONE? Wouldn’t it be GREAT if ALL THE CHARACTERS TURNED AGAINST PETER but then Peter SLOWLY CHARMED SOME OR ALL OF THEM BACK IN, to make him MORE like an UNEARTHLY MONSTER? Like the lost boys became SELF-AWARE LITERAL VICTIMS OF THE ORIGINAL TALE FORMAT, where Peter Pain is this IMPOSSIBLY CHARMING CHARACTER THAT IS BELOVED BY THE LAWS OF THE UNIVERSE? ALSO, the MAIN CHARACTER is supposed to be the MODEL OF REASON FOR THE READER TO RELATE TO, but the main character still gets CHARMED BY PETER PAN, WHILE WE KNOW AS RATIONAL ADULTS WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING TO HAPPEN? LIKE THAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE HOW READING BOOKS IS? When we KNOW WHAT’S GUNNA HAPPEN? BUT THE AUTHOR WANTS TO BE PETER’S FRIEND SO HE DOES IT ANYWAY? AND LIKE SEVERAL OTHER CHARACTERS THAT THE MAIN CHARACTER IS FRIENDS WITH ARE ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE FIGURES OF REASON BUT THEY’RE ALSO 100% PARTISAN IN SIDING WITH PETER? SO IT’S LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIKE ALL YOU DUMB, DUMB KIDS?

LIKE OKAY, SO HOW IT GOES IS THAT PETER CAN LIKE WALK ACROSS THE DIMENSION BETWEEN NEVERLAND AND THE REAL WORLD AND THAT'S HOW HE GETS THE KIDS? SO AT ONE POINT IN NEVERLAND THEY ALL HAVE TO SCAVENGE FOR FOOD BECAUSE THE VEGETATION IN NEVERLAND IS DYING, AND THEY MENTION HOW PETER USED TO BRING THEM FOOD FROM THE REAL WORLD? AND IT'S LIKE, HOW ABOUT YOU JUST KEEP DOING THAT? OR LIKE, WHY DON'T ANY OF YOU WANT TO JUST LEAVE? YEAH THE REAL WORLD SUCKS, BUT IS IT WORTH STARVING TO DEATH JUST SO YOU CAN STICK IT TO THE MAN? LIKE ARE THERE PEDIATRICIANS IN NEVERLAND? ARE THERE AT-RISK YOUTH SHELTERS? FOSTER CARE? NEVERLAND SOUP KITCHENS? NEVERLAND SOCIAL WORKERS? NEVERLAND CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES? NEVERLAND POLICE? NO? JUST MONSTERS THAT PAINFULLY KILL YOU, ZOMBIE PIRATES, NO FOOD, AND LITERALLY THE ANTI-CHRIST?

AND THEN THERE’S RIDICULOUS SHIT LIKE, AT ONE POINT ALL THESE MAGICAL FANTASY CHARACTERS HIJACK A NEW YORK CITY FERRY TO GET TO THE HARBOR AND IT’S LIKE, THIS IS SO RIDICULOUS IT SHOULD BE AWESOME, BUT IT ISN’T AWESOME BUT IT SHOULD BE SO WHY ISN’T IT?

AND LIKE ONE OF THE CHARACTERS IS A FAT USELESS KID NAMED DANNY AND THERE IS NO REASON FOR HIM TO BE IN THE BOOK BESIDES TO BE THE TOKEN FAT USELESS KID NAMED DANNY?

BUT DANNY IS LIKE ALSO THE ONLY OTHER SMART CHARACTER IN THE BOOK BECAUSE HE’S LIKE WHY DID I SAY YES TO THIS WHY ARE WE STILL FOLLOWING THIS GUY WHY DON’T WE JUST LEAVE AND IT’S LIKE YEAH PUT DANNY IN CHARGE BUT NOBODY LISTENS TO HIM AND HE’S JUST COMPLETELY UTTERLY USELESS?

AND THEN CAPTAIN HOOK ADOPTS DANNY AND IT’S LIKE OH MY GOD THE AUTHOR FORGOT HE NEEDED TO GIVE DANNY SOMETHING TO DO?

AND LIKE I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER THE MAIN CHARACTER’S NAME?

AND THEN AT THE END OF THE BOOK, SO, THERE’S THIS BIG HUGE BATTLE SCENE WHERE CHILDREN DIE LEFT AND RIGHT, LIKE THE “ANTAGONIST” (NOT PETER) HAS A HUGE SWORD AND IS SWINGING AT THE KIDS LIKE HE’S HARVESTING WHEAT, OH AND YEAH, BY THE WAY, AGAIN, THE REAL WORLD IS LOCATED IN NEW YORK CITY AND THE BATTLE HAPPENS ON LIKE THE FRONT LAWN OF A LIBRARY OR SOMETHING. LIKE THE STORY KIND OF TOTALLY GOES OFF THE RAILS INTO FANTASTIC SCHLOCK. AND AT ONE POINT THE BATTLE IS ABRUPTLY INTERRUPTED BY NYC POLICE AND IT’S LIKE ARE YOU SHITTING MY NUTS THE NYC COPS ARE INVOLVED IN THIS FANTASY BATTLE THIS IS AMAZING, BUT THEN THAT DOESN’T HAPPEN AND IT GOES NOWHERE. AND ALL THE MAIN CHARACTERS ARE DYING, AND NONE OF THEM HAD ARCS, LIKE NONE OF THEM REALIZED WHAT THEY GOT THEMSELVES INTO OR WHAT PETER REALLY WAS, AND AT THE ACT 3 POST-LOW POINT THE MAIN CHARACTER DIDN’T GO OFF TO DO HIS OWN THING AND TRY TO SAVE THE DAY, HE JUST GOES WITH PETER TO DO WHATEVER HE WANTS, AND THEN HIS ARC IS BASICALLY NOTHING AND THEN HE DIES. AND *PETER* WINS. AND AGAIN HE’S LITERALLY THE ANTI CHRIST SO THE BOOK ENDS WITH HIM BRIDGING THE REAL WORLD WITH NEVERLAND, AND BASICALLY BEING THE BRINGER OF HELL UNTO THE EARTH. AND UP UNTIL THEN THE BOOK HAD ABOUT 68 INSTANCES OF THE READER SWITCHING BETWEEN FEELING BAD FOR PETER AND THEN ACCEPTING THAT HE IS HITLER NURSE RATCHED MAO STALIN. SO WHEN ALL THE KIDS DIE, HE HAS A SCENE OF FEELING REALLY BAD AND THE READER IS SUPPOSED TO BE ALL LIKE AW HE REALLY DOES CARE! AND THEN NEVERLAND GETS BRIDGED INTO NEW YORK CITY, AND HE’S LIKE HA HA HA HA I DID IT I WON. BUT IT’S WRITTEN IN SUCH A WAY THAT LIKE, THE AUDIENCE IS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE, WHEEEEEE! LIKE THIS THING THAT HAPPENED IS THE DOOM OF MANKIND, AND THE TONE SHOULD REALLY BE “OH GOD NO.” BUT THE AUTHOR WAS HAPPY THAT PETER WON IN THE END BECAUSE HE WANTS TO BE HIS FRIEND, EVEN THOUGH LIKE FIFTEEN PAGES AGO PETER CAUSED THE DEATH OF AN ARMY OF CHILDREN (AFTER ANOTHER 600 PAGES OF ALL KINDS OF OTHER AWFUL SHIT). SO NOT ONLY ARE WE SUPPOSED TO FEEL SAD THAT PETER FEELS SAD, BUT THEN WE’RE SUPPOSED TO FEEL HAPPY THAT PETER FEELS HAPPY. HOW ABOUT GO FUCK YOURSELF? HOW ABOUT IF YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE PETER A CHALLENGING UNRELIABLE ANTI-HERO, DON’T MAKE HIS DARK QUALITIES SO INCONTESTABLY EVIL, OR, EITHER CHOOSE TO MAKE PETER HATED BY THE AUDIENCE, OR MAKE THE AUDIENCE FEEL FOOLISH FOR BEING CHARMED BY PETER AND PARTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL THE BAD SHIT THAT HAPPENED AND GO FUCK YOURSELF?

...

I’ll give a different example of both tonal incongruence and bad character writing.

So, the opening scene of the book that involves attempted child rape, so. What happens is that Peter saves the little girl in time by killing the dad, and gains her trust to go to Neverland. The way the story regards the introduction to Peter is that of wonder and curiosity through the little girl’s eyes, as if it was derived from the original children’s tale. So the opener is meant to establish: a gritty “realness” to the book (which is never earned but i digress), and Peter as a mysterious magical hero. Then, the story carries on into describing Peter’s motivation in saving (the book uses “stealing”) children, which vaguely mentions his villainous indulgence (he’s saving children to recruit them in an army in Neverland to fight captain hook because his mommy is the president of neverland and there’s almost-Oedipal themes going on). Fine. However, the cadence of Peter actually being villainous is very very…undermined. Like the actual voice of the NARRATION is misinformed. Like the narration sounds more like Peter’s inner monologue speaking in the third person. Like the third person is in on it. Like the author is painting Peter as this wicked wrongdoer as if it’s a cool thing and he wants to be his friend (Oh wait).

This is how the voice of the opener is handled: Child rape —> Peter prevents child rape and saves child —> Peter is a good guy for doing this —> Peter is still a good guy for doing this but he did it maybe not for the right reasons. As it turns out, Peter is unquestionably the bad guy. Peter was the bad guy from the start, Peter was the bad guy while he was saving the little girl.

The rest of the book is handled like this: Peter is cool and badass  —> Peter is mischievous but still the person we want to follow —> Peter is a psycho...but still cool —> Oh shit Peter has a super awful past and his psycho-ness is the result of being a victim so I forgive him —> Wow Peter’s both a psycho and an asshole—> Okay I dunno about Peter —> The author keeps having Peter save people from being raped as if he’s not an asshole but he’s still a psycho and an asshole so I still don’t know —> The plot has a a lot of stuff so I guess I’m still with Peter —> Okay Peter won but everyone is dead because of him and he’s still an asshole so I still don’t know.

Peter tricks victims of rape, abuse, slavery, etc. into thinking they’re being saved when in fact he objectifies them for his personal needs. Remember how I said this book’s insane tonal confusion isn’t subtle? Well, from the book’s perspective, putting a finger on Peter’s good side and bad side...is subtle. Problematically subtle. Which, on a literary standpoint, sounds like a good thing, but...

This is the part when I say the thing you ACTUALLY SHOULDN’T BE SUBTLE ABOUT is PETER. You CAN be subtle about his tragic backstory. Be subtle about sprinkling his good qualities over his CAKE TOWER of BADNESS. Give him some KICK. Have the flavors INTERACT. Make the audience be like “OOOH, is that cumin?? Interesting! HMMMM! INTERESTING! CUMIN! ON DORITOS! YEAh I am definitely eating Doritos, this is absolutely Doritos, but there’s some CUMIN in there! Okay, back to eating my DORITOS! OOOOH, IS THAT CAYENNE?????” But whatever you do, make it CLEAR what you are SERVING. You should not have a MIXED BAG, a MEDLEY, and try to sell it like not-a-medley. You should NOT make half your plate super spicy and half your plate super sweet and make the audience roll the dice on each bite they take. Peter Pan isn’t some complexass Faustian character study, it’s SUBVERSIVE HYPERVIOLENT DARK FANTASY PORN. IT’S DORITOS

This is how the voice of the opener should've been handled: Child rape —> Peter prevents child rape and saves child —> Peter is the bad guy.

This is how the voice of the rest of the book should've been handled: No matter what happens —> Peter is the bad guy.

I don’t have and never will have the literary criticism credentials to say anything with credible boldness, but I’m going to say this anyway: Using child rape to force the reader to feel a certain way about the tone of the world and the first heroic impression of a character is wrong. Forcing an act of heroism (especially for you to then later say “Just kidding not the hero”) in that context is inappropriate and wrong. That’s like throwing 9/11 into the background of a love story to force the audience to feel extra emotional. 1) There are many, many, many, many ways you can establish “realness” in your opener with or without violence. I’m not saying there is a hierarchy of what kind of awful things involving children are okay to write about, but opening your story with attempted child rape is an unnecessary extreme if parts of your story reads like an episode of Saved By The Bell. Revenge alone isn’t cool. John Wick is cool because of the way revenge is handled. Writing about attempted child rape and then immediate revenge on the rapist is the Epipen-shot-to-the-brain method of forcibly getting your audience to go “I LIKE PETER!”, which isn’t at all earned and probably shouldn’t be in your story… 2) ESPECIALLY if you don’t simultaneously establish with slats nailed on a wall that Peter is the bad guy. The author basically deceived the audience into liking Peter in the worst way possible, ironically, which is what he had Peter do to the other characters. If you want to cleverly deceive the audience into liking Peter, do it through his dialogue, personality, the externalized product of the relationship between him and his environment. Be inventive about it. It’s a book. You got words. Use...words to your advantage. If you want to open your story with attempted child rape at the very least as a way to tell the audience this shit’s serious, don’t.

Just don’t. It’s fine.

The Child Thief can’t be pinned as So Bad It’s Good. It’s poor, but it’s not Tommy Wiseau-acclaim-bad. The only way I can describe it is So Disorderly It’s Weird. But it has potential for being SO Weird It’s Kind Of Genius. Which makes it So Almost SO Weird It’s Kind Of Genius It’s Frustrating.

The book’s biggest detriment is that it takes itself too seriously. The author’s motivating in writing the book (this is fact) was that he recognized that the beloved original tale of Peter Pan has a lot of dark elements, but continues to be celebrated as a children’s story. And he wanted to take that notion and run with it. What happened was that he selectively fell in love with elements of that concept, and instead of writing a story that was meant to pull the rug from under us, he ended up writing a run-of-the-mill edgy dark fantasy that he was obliged to pepper with Peter Pan references. Instead of pulling the entire rug beneath our feet and hauling us onto our asses, he took a small handful of rug here and there and just occasionally tugged at it roughly, so that we’d almost lose our balance and get annoyed and tell him to stop.

The book lacks its own conceptual self-awareness that it built for itself, and the result is two different bodies trying to be forcibly shoved into the same book-sized box, when it should’ve been a new gross, satirical, humorous, unique body entirely.

In that sense, I really think this book could’ve been truly unironically awesome. I love the idea of cartoonishly exaggerating the dark elements (especially the violence) of the original tale that have been culturally ignored, like a lot of (or most) (or all) old children’s tales. My ideal solution to this book would actually be making it even more ridiculous in every way, but strung together with self-awareness and intention, where the author could acknowledge that the absurdity is instrumental, not indulgent. There are many aspects of the book that I really like thematically, and none of them are fully (or at all) seen through to their potential. These ideas aren’t really intentionally presented in the book, but: I like the idea that Peter is a sadistic volatile killing machine because he’s cursed with being riiiiiight on the cusp of hitting puberty, and his body is trapped without that natural sexual/psychological release, turning him into an aggressive animal constantly teased by unfulfilled subconscious heat. I like the idea that the lost boys element would be subverted into an inevitable Lord of the Flies esque shitstorm. I like the idea that the danger and villainy are at first generalized in adults but eventually presented in the children. I like the idea that every single possible fucking thing in the world—both the real world (mostly nyc LoL!) and Neverland—are a threat and are actively trying to kill the children, and the children treat it like an adventure before the horror becomes real. I like the idea of illustrating the outcome of blindly following fun naive figures of leadership. There are even a number of character interaction scenes that I like format wise. Just minus the embarrassing dialogue. That stuff's easy to rewrite in your head as you read it. Also I would take out that part in the book that I described as Bette Midler not having a shirt on while preying on a 6 year old. That part was really fucking uncomfortable. Seriously wtf, Gerald Brom.

I must concede this notion: The writer didn’t set out to create a masterpiece. He wrote the book to have fun. He succeeded, and his readers expected the same thing and received the experience they wanted. Of all the things that could’ve landed in my hands and tickled me in a weird enough way to make me wish it was better, for some reason it had to be this.

I could keep going, but...eh, (sigh).

But lastly—again, the descriptive writing of the world is very lush, and at times effectively horrific. The reading experience is a constant stop and start call-and-response of really great potential, really clumsy writing, and really misunderstood tonal directions. All those things put this book directly on the edge of FRUSTRATING. Uniquely frustrating. It couldn’t have been salvaged by the hands of a more competent writer, because the product came to light specifically out of the author’s unintentional confusion, not his laziness. A lazy product with potential can be salvaged through additions and tweaks, but The Child Thief cannot because the story was seen through the way it existed in the author’s head and heart. It is exactly what it...is. It can’t be imitated, or inspired by, or re-re-imagined. This weirdass fucking book is just sitting on this planet, being read by people, and shit. 

…..Anyway. This was all just meant to be the caption for my fan art. http://jennacha.tumblr.com/post/172559227502/i-made-fan-art-of-a-book-i-both-love-and-hate-lol

[iphoenixrising]

Tiny!Tim and the Fever

Another one I found. Ah, my soulmate @satire-please was sick a while ago and asked for a young Timmy all sick and the Bats find him in Drake Manor. It’s Nightwing in from the Haven with a little Jason!Robin :D

**

When the only people out in Gotham after nightfall are the vigilantes, you know it’s time to go. N and Robin had hit mid-town before their legs were completely numb to all sensation and the clench of his stomach, the almost oops with his zip line was countered by Nightwing’s uncanny sixth sense.

The second time his predecessor caught him by the back of his cape before an epic fail on the roof of the Wallstone (even through the gloves he can’t feel his hands well enough to hold the zip line), they agree wholeheartedly it’s time to call it a night.  Like he’s reading their minds (or he just knows his boys), B already sent the big car down to an alleyway for their pick-up. The heater is blasting when they duck inside, limbs tingling back to life before N revs the engine and they take off into the night.

**

The next afternoon, Alfred Pennyworth hangs-up the Manor telephone and returns to the kitchen, his back a little stiffer than normal.

Looking up from the incredibly stupid “Arctic Academy” assignments for snow days, Jay’s eyebrow cocks up while Dick manages to stir from huddled around his bowl of cereal. Reading the paper and drinking his coffee, B lets the butler go through his own particular set of motions before deciding to intervene. He still taps his cane a little on his walking cast, just so Alfred knows.

The offended muttering while the butler moves around the kitchen, putting sundries away, removing his apron, going for his coat, hat, and scarf.

“It seems,” the butler finally speaks loud enough to be to them, “young Timothy has been left to his own devices and has not answered any phone calls from his parents.” Sliding on his driving gloves, the calm, cool, and collected is just the tiniest bit askew, “they have requested I go check on the boy, just to be certain he hasn’t run against any difficulties.”

Timothy?

Timothy.

“Timmy from down the road?” Jason’s brows furrow, “he’s only a fucking kid. You ain’t telling me they left him alone, right?”

The silence answers that.

B’s already ninja folded the newspaper in perfect lines, standing to retrieve his own coat from the mudroom, hobbling quickly for someone with a broken leg.  “It’s literally six outside, Alfred. I’ll go. Do me a favor and check the scans running in the Cave on the last file Question sent. I’d like to know what he’s gotten into now.”

“I shall, Sir,” Alfred hums back, watching Master Bruce turn into concerned parent while he bundles up against the frigid cold.

B only has to say one word.

“Boys?”

Dick is downing his milk with more wake-up than five minutes ago. He’s due back in the Haven by tomorrow night to start his next round of Officer Grayson Solves Them All, so that gives him plenty of time to check on Timmy before heading back.

Jason scribbles a few more notes, rising from his chair to bend over for the last few lines of the book review.

The heat works double-time, all three frozen to the bone without ever leaving the garage.

Even more disturbing is the complete serenity of Drake Manor when they start to fight through the snow to get up the drive.

(Damn. Should have brought the big car.)

The scene is unmarked, pristine, just a little tell on how long it had been since someone had been in...or out.

Leaving the car running warm, Bruce is out and taking the foot-deep drifts like he takes on criminals as Batman– without a pause.

Dick and Jason are hot on his heels, eyes taking in the surroundings, the contingencies, the environment they might be following him into–

(Robin’s instinct)

The porch is finally somewhat free of snow’s terrible grip where B knocks with a gloved hand, ready to shout in case the young boy was upstairs.

The front door, however, pops softly, heavily, open under his knuckles.

All three of them stop, step back, and prep.

The motion is subtle, a flick of two fingers with the hand not holding on to his cane, and Jason is vaulting off the porch like he’s not a bit freezin’ his nuts off, rounding the house to look for any clues there might be a–

Jackpot.

One window is cracked open upstairs, and he’s already wrapped a hand around the drain pipe to scurry up.

Dick is going around the other side, still seeing no other tracks, no broken anything. Nothing through the windows except a pristine sitting room, an elaborate formal dining room, and the kitchen as he rounds to the back of the house.

The light makes his stop immediately to peer in, already trying to jimmie the window open. On the floor, wrapped up in a blanket, is a tiny bundle of a boy, every muscle drooping, face buried in his upraised arms.

From this vantage, Dick can’t tell if he’s even breathing.

“Get inside!” He yells out, knocking on the glass to see if the kid moves.

(He doesn’t.)

And the window is finally shoved up once he can get his fingers into the right places to trip the locks, and Dick Grayson is through the window fast, just in time for B to come through the kitchen door, and Jay to drop down from a vent overhead.

“Tim? Tim!”

The converge around the bundled boy, just a messy mop of dark hair peeping through the canary yellow fuzzy blanket.

It’s not until B automatically reaches out that the head flops to the side and dull blue eyes blink up at them hazily.

“Mister...Mister Wayne?” Nasilly and hoarse, Tim Drake is pale in the face with only dark rose to his cheeks, tip of his runny nose, and forehead. “What are...what are you doing here?”

“How long have you been by yourself?!” Dick demands gently, pulling a glove off to put a hand on the kid’s forehead, his pounding heart finally easing down slightly now that Tim has actually moved.

“Mrs. Mac couldn’t get through the weather,” the young boy yawns, letting his head drop forward a little into Dick’s cool palm. “S’ okay. I’ve got plenty of stuff to eat and–”

A hard cough rattles his chest a little, and he ducks his head out from under Dick’s hand to bury his face in his blanket.

Jay goes around to close the window Dick left open, noting the thermostat is set at 61 degrees, and nudges B’s shoulder just slightly.

The exchanged look is the very same nope, not okay while Dick just gives in to his instinct and eases the coughing boy into his lap to cuddle.

Tim was too sick, too tired, too everything to really notice the cool outer material of Dick’s coat was against his cheek, and the hand moving in soothing circles on his back felt nice, so nice.

“What’s the plan, Boss?”

B is already pulling out his phone, making a quick call. Jay gives a brusk nod and affectionately ruffles Tim’s messy hair. The big, watery eyes look back up at him blearily around Dick’s coat, and Tim smiles gently.

“Hi Jay. Did you come to play video games with me?”

At the hopeful note in the kid’s tone, Jay completely pretends his heart isn’t breaking open wide. Instead, he crouches down (just like he’s Robin) and tries to make himself smirk so he don’t let Timmy know how ungodly pissed off he is.

“Can’t stay, Baby Bird, but howz ‘bout ya come back ta the Manor with me n’ B n’ Dickie, yeah? We’ll play some games there n’ get some good eats, you feel me?”

That seem to perk Tim up a little, enough to get the boy to at least sit up in Dick’s lap on his own, “can I? I mean, I can? I mean, is that okay?”

His eyes go to B, who is moving smoothly instead of limping heavily when the other line finally picks up. Tim buries himself a little deeper in Dick’s coat when Mister Wayne crosses the room to talk in a very low, deep tone.

Almost a growl.

“It’s totally fine, Timmers,” Jay tries to grin, laugh it off a little so the kid doesn’t think anything is wrong (even though it is, all of this fuckery is), “Alfred was gonna come getcha ta hang out since it’s a snow day.”

“Mister...Mister Pennyworth is so...nice,” Tim replies with another puppy yawn that completely entrances Dick since it’s just too adorable for words.

“Yes, he is, Timmy. And he very, very much would like it if you would come to stay with us for a few days, okay? Jay will go upstairs and pack you some clothes, we’ll wrap a few more blankets around you, and we’ll go have some nice soup and watch some awesome movies between video game rounds.”

“I would love that, thank-you, Dick.” He tries to be enthusiastic, tries to be happy, but he’s so achy and sore and tired. His throat is scratchy and his belly rumbling with hunger under the blanket. “But...but could I get up and get my soup out of the microwave? I’m not sure how long it’s been in there, and I should put it in the fridge for next time.”

And, well, no Timmy, you’re probably not going to escape that hold.

Ever.

Jay grins wider when he sees Dick reflexively tighten down for the long haul.

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout it, Timmers. Just let Dickie getcha ready ta go outside. ‘S cold as a motherfucking bitch, lemme tell ya, and we don’t wanna letcha get any sicker, you feel me?”

“Little Wing! Language!”

“Aw, hell with it, Dickie. He’s a smartie, didn’t cha know?”

“It’s...I’m not, I mean, I’m okay, really. I can take care of myself.” The boy looks a slightly panicky, his small hands peeping through his blanket burrito to tighten down on the edges. “You don’t have to do anything at all! I promise. I won’t be any trouble–”

“You are never trouble,” B interrupts darkly, finally finishing his conversation, and has returned to the trio without a sound. “And we’re glad to have you stay with us.”

Those eyes get more moist, his nose nudges down into the blanket, his forehead turning into Dick’s jacket.

“After you’re feeling better, I’m going to give you the phone number to the Manor to keep in your room at all times.” B crouches down strangely with the cast, trading places with Jason, who is already moving out of the kitchen and strafing up the massive staircase to start packing their sick Baby Bird a bag.

“O-...Okay,” the boy finally looks up at B’s dark eyes.

“If you’re ever here alone and you need someone for any reason, you need to call me. From now on, Tim, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mister Wayne.”

“Bruce.”

“Yes, Bruce.”

“That’s a good boy,” and the ruffle to his hair is absurdly gentle, making Tim ease down on his death-grip and raise his head up enough to smile.

And later, once he’s in the sitting room of the Manor with old X-Men cartoon reruns on the television, snuggled down in Dick’s lap with fresh pjs, a belly full of Mister Alfred’s soup, and already riding the train to sleep with fever-reducers and a thick blanket to keep him warm, his eyes go from Dick’s easy smile and affectionate eyes, to the absent hand Jay has on his ankle while he works through more of the problems on his Artic Academy paperwork, to B working quietly on a tablet while he sips at his coffee and occasionally looks up to make sure his boy are all right, Tim thinks how nice it would be…

To be part of their family.