#jason's scream is high enough that cass's ears ring

[nerdpoe]

guys i'm sorry i've been struck with a crack prompt idea and i have to write it you don't udnerSTADN

Danny accidentally bumps into Pandora's box.

He immediately closes it! It was closed immediately! Super quick! NBD!!!

Except one plague hopped out in that half second it was open.

Danny doesn't even realize he caught it until he pops back to the Mortal realm and goes into his human form.

He passes the mirror in the lab and....those are cat ears. That's a cat tail.

His hands shake.

Maybe it's just him. Maybe he can plead being a meta.

He takes out his phone and checks the news.

In the two hours he's been gone, roughly half the population of humans on the planet are now cursed with cat ears and cat tails.

Justice League is looking into a way to reverse the curse.

Danny looks at the mirror and goes ghost.

Completely human.

Goes human.

Cat ears and cat tail.

Meanwhile, in another state, Jason barricades himself in his apartment.

None of them can ever find out. None of them can ever find out. NONE OF THEM CAN EVER FIN-

Jason thinks he's the only bat who woke up with cat ears and a cat tail.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Dark Oracle AU

Okay, I need to expand on this concept. I present my personal idea of a timeline from the canon state of affairs (or, well, my interpretation of them because comics are so inconsistent and full of crap, basically pre-New 52 with Duke) to Big Sister dictatorship!

The Batfamily is battling a really serious threat, like Ra’s al Ghul or the Court of Owls or a supervillain alliance or something. It’s a big deal. Very high stakes. The only reason they’re even attempting a mission this risky is because, thanks in large part to their resident information-finding specialist Barbara, they have a great deal of knowledge in advance and are sure they’ve planned for every possible outcome, as Bats tend to do. Except the villain has a secret advantage, another trick up their sleeve. There’s no way Babs could have found out about this, but of course she doesn’t believe that and blames herself, as Bats tend to do. The heroes aren’t prepared and in the chaos none of the contingency plans they’re able to execute work. By the time they defeat the threat… Black Bat and Batgirl are dead. Steph is killed first, heroically sacrificing herself, and Cass, the nearest to her, is caught off-guard in her shock.

I’m sorry! I am! But I truly think that Babs could not properly turn evil if she had Team Batgirl to remind her of her definition of heroism, of her own lingering inner Batgirl. She needs to just be Oracle. Cass is buried in the Wayne Manor cemetery; Steph in a public one the closest to the same distance from the Manor and Crystal’s house. They both get memorials in the Batcave.

Babs shuts down in depressed and self-hatred. She watched her daughter figures, her protégés, her Batgirls die because of (in her mind) her inadequacy. She feels like she’ll similarly fail at anything she tries to do now. She quits being Oracle and withdraws from the Batfam and her father. Remember, she has an eidetic memory, and watched and heard Steph and Cass’s deaths via the family’s mask cameras. They’re all she can see when she closes her eyes. Those screams are always ringing in her ears.

Meanwhile, Bruce takes this about as well as he took losing a child/young vigilante he inspired and mentored the last two times, but doubled. Although he and Alfred have enough experience that he doesn’t get quite as bad as fast as when Jason died, he’s still significantly more antisocial, aggressive, reckless and self-destructive and isolates himself more over the first months afterward. Jim notices the disappearance of Black Bat and Batgirl and the sadly familiar changes in Batman’s behaviour and puts the pieces together. He offers Batman what comfort he can, but is simultaneously worrying about Babs on top of his job. Crime rates go up whenever the Batfam’s numbers decrease.

The remaining Batkids are distraught. Other than Jason, they grow closer in their shared grief. Jason is off on his own turning his pain into violence even more savagely than normal. He recognizes that he’s falling back on his terrible coping mechanisms and doesn’t want to hurt his family this time, so he just doesn’t interact with them. Tim is hit especially hard due to being the closest to Cass and Steph - not to mention that he in particular so fucking sick and tired of his loved ones dying across his teenage years. He’s very unstable. Steph was one of the key people who taught Damian how to have fun and be a kid, and how important it was, so without her he’s more liable to forget that and backslide into acting cold, aloof, violently temperamental, etc.. Duke is made acutely aware of how short life is and that anyone he cares about could die at any time, so he actually strengthens his friendships with the We Are Robin kids. They can break down and be vulnerable with each other in private, but mostly push themselves harder because they each feel that it’s their duty to both keep Gotham safe and prevent Bruce and their siblings going off the rails. Dick is probably the least emotionally vulnerable because he has the most practice bottling up intense grief effectively and, with Bruce’s psychological decline and constant busyness, steps up more as the Responsible Adult alongside Alfred.

Bruce forbids Tim, Duke and Damian to go into the field and Dick agrees, because can they stop losing family for five minutes? A number of restrictions are implemented to uphold this. It’s Tim, Duke and Damian, though, of course they get out anyway. Helping people directly is one of the only sources of serotonin they have.

This is when things really start to go to hell: Bruce is killed. Because of his recklessness and accelerated by his poor health due to neglecting self-care. Because he charged into a dangerous fight alone, Alfred in the chair occupied with the Batkids. Because, Babs can’t convince herself otherwise, he didn’t have Oracle watching his back. The Batkids really could not stop losing family for five minutes. He’s buried right next to his daughter, the death dates just three months apart. Memorial in the cave, natch. But they don’t pretend he isn’t dead this time, so the whole city must mourn its Dark Knight. There are huge memorial services, statues made of him. Jim cries a lot. He already lost Harvey, now Bats?

Oh yeah, and - released a little later to throw people off and let them form a convincing cover story - Bruce Wayne is dead too. A massive blow to Gotham’s morale and even greater surges in crime follow. Their inspirational ray of sunshine and hope and belief in humanity is suddenly gone forever, and so soon after their original and most accomplished superhero. Who are they going to believe in now? Well… at least they still have the rest of the vigilantes.

Babs returns to work. Throws herself into it the way other people throw themselves off bridges. She stays on more formal terms with the Batfam at first, but does reconnect with them over time. She moves Cass and Steph’s memorials to the Clocktower “for motivation”, and this is evidently effective, seeing how she goes into overdrive and is soon leading and coordinating everyone alongside Dick. Gotham is floundering without Bruce and Batman and she refuses to let it fall into anarchy. She’ll be its Oracle, guiding it to a brighter future. She’ll never not know or foresee something ever again. She can’t. Jim is getting extremely worried.

If she���s doing badly, Bruce’s own children’s mental states can be summarised as deep shit. Everyone embraces the family’s classic coping mechanisms, workaholism and emotional repression, harder to try to cope with the chaos. Tim takes over more Wayne Enterprises responsibilities. You know, ‘cause he doesn’t have enough on his plate. Unlike last time, Bruce is definitely permanently dead and he doesn’t take that well. Alfred… is going through it. Sorry, Alfred. A small comfort is that Jason is inspired to treasure his remaining family and he and his siblings and grandad work on repairing their relationships.

Things don’t go Gotham meets Oceania overnight. Babs eroding her code of ethics to the point of evil dictatorship is a slow process, the kind you may not even register until it’s happened. One year after Bruce’s death she’s composed enough to run for mayor, still cripplingly afraid and resentful of Oracle’s limitations. She needs political control over Gotham to make it a better place in the long run. Who are the people going to believe in now? Barbara Gordon! Her loved ones are proud and supportive of her, having been reconnecting with her lately, if concerned that she isn’t processing her grief that much even compared to the rest of them. Her policies are focused on security and reforms to the police force and legal system that aim to reduce crime and corruption, which in the context of the soaring crime rates and spiralling despair of the Gotham public all seem wonderful to many. Surely, things at least can’t possibly get worse than they have been. She wins in a landslide.

The mayor’s power plus Oracle’s power soon goes to Babs’s head. Over the next year she slips from hero to antihero to a darker shade of grey. Her level of surveillance gradually moves out of the reasonable zone. Her patience for disagreement wears thin. When the Batfam or law enforcement take down a crime organization, she will siphon off their assets and information to consolidate her power rather than redistribute all of it to the people. For the greater good, obviously!

This culminates two years after Bruce’s death when Oracle defeats the Court of Owls with a cunning scheme (if they’re the ones who killed the Batgirls, this part hits extra hard): she fakes an alliance with them to set up a double cross, her ‘downpayment’ of information to gain their trust being false and luring their high command into a massive vigilante and police ambush. But Babs doesn’t dismantle the Court like the Bats expect her to. She takes control of it and integrates its vast, rich archives and information network into her own, now essentially omniscient regarding Gotham’s criminal underworld. She also uses the Court’s under-the-table connections to manipulate political and legal proceedings. It’s great for eliminating all corruption besides her own.

This move triggers the ideological conflict that’s been brewing amongst the Batfam to spill over into a devastating fight. Babs and Dick are at the forefront. Babs is accused of tyranny and selfish ambition, Dick and his allies of holding onto a naive, obsolete ideal of protection, both sides feeling betrayed and that the other is “becoming what they fought against”. It’s very emotionally charged. Very painful and bitter for everyone involved.

In the end Alfred, Dick, Jason, Duke and Damian leave in regret and disgust. To explain why them: Alfred is never turning evil. We all know that. The fabric of the universe would unravel if he did. Dick is likewise functionally incorruptible because he’s Dick Grayson, he’s the light of the DC universe. He is utterly heartbroken though. Him and Babs being enemies is the maximum angst option, I couldn’t not take it. Jason has already been through a ‘using villainous methods to protect Gotham how Batman won’t because a) I genuinely believe the ends justify the means and b) my mental health is a train wreck’ phase and basically come out the other side. He isn’t gonna do that again, but as a subordinate. Him and Duke’s backstories make them both more down-to-earth and grounded in the reality of the average and lower-class Gotham citizens’ everyday lives than anyone else in the Batfam, so they can see most clearly how Babs’s actions are harming their people. And Damian is closer to Dick and Duke than Babs, but also similarly to Jason did the edgy ‘morals hold you back, absolute punishment and terror will fight crime more efficiently’ thing and outgrew it. He learned to value human life and rights and swore his loyalty to the mentors who taught him this and their code. He learned how to reject the toxic bullshit the League of Assassins had been feeding him his entire life; it would insult his character growth in my opinion to have him accept Barbara’s toxic bullshit.

That leaves Tim to be Babs’s primary enforcer. Sorry, Tim. Someone had to do it. Between his severe psychological vulnerability and lack of his brothers’ personal experiences with immorality and insights into the average Gothamite’s life, I think it should be him. He’s also the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and involved in the Wayne Foundation and that pairs nicely with Babs’s data collection. Any Wayne Technologies device can covertly monitor people. To sever himself from the bat and bird motifs of the lost and unenlightened and show his allegiance to Oracle, he creates a new vigilante identity called Python. This is a reference to the Greek myth of a giant serpent called Python (from the original name of Delphi, Pytho, and the namesake of the snake classification) who resided in and guarded the site of Delphi, before Apollo killed it and installed his own prophetess Pythia in his place. He’s got a green scaly jumpsuit with armour plating. Two curved swords imitating fangs. Scale throwing blades. A penchant for nonlethal gas and aerosol tools like knockout gas, tear gas and smokescreens, in allusion to the natural hallucinogenic fumes at Delphi that led to its holy reputation. It’s cool. Sinister, but cool. Snakes don’t have eyelids, matching the relentless surveillance theme. Fun fact: pythons eat bats and small birds.

Shock of the century, Babara “Heaps of Recent, Untreated PTSD From Losing Loved Ones and Compulsive Need to Always be Aware and On Top of Everything” Gordon doesn’t take being ditched by all but one of her found family in stride. She has a total breakdown, blames herself for not being able to make them see things her way and lashes out by cracking down even harder on the populace. She’s accordingly immensely grateful for Tim staying and very protective of him. Were he to leave her too, it could be enough to shatter her.

The five rebels join the Birds of Prey, who leave Barbara after hearing how she turned on them, the Gotham City Sirens, Holly Robinson, Slam Bradley, Duke’s We Are Robin friends and a number of other malcontents, including Crystal Brown, to form a resistance. This alliance is called the Shadow Guard - ‘shadow’ because they literally are largely nocturnal, but furthermore it’s a contrast and opposition to Oracle’s prying and shining a light onto things; a declaration both that they are her blind spot and that privacy, the unseen, the ability to keep people ‘in the dark’ deserves to be protected. They’re guardians in the real shadows and of the figurative ones. There’s the angle that they’re only shadows of the Batfamily at its peak and the people they were then too. The rebellion uses pre-internet technology to be safe, with the occasional exception of scavenged tech cut off from Babs’s network.

Mayor Gordon declares Nightwing, Red Hood, Robin and the Signal to be dangerous, untrustworthy public enemies, even suggesting that they’re responsible for the mysterious disappearances of Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne and Duke Thomas. This forces Jim, who’s been putting off realizing that his beloved daughter and the only family he has left is having a moral degradation arc in favour of softer appeals to her compassion, to confront that Babs is now pretty damn totalitarian and he cannot stand by any longer. He joins the Shadow Guard as a spy, and supplies resources, equipment and other employees with consciences to their ranks. His hope is that once her power is removed, Babs will have to face the consequences of her actions and come to her senses. The three year mark is when her directing of the police cycles around to be so militarized and oppressive that her initial real ethical reforms are trampled, vindicating Jim’s decision.

Why don’t external superheroes and the government officials intervene? Because Babs is still their information broker. She provides them with vital intel and has truckloads of dirt on all of them. She isn’t above passive-aggressively reminding people of her ability to ruin them to get them off her back, even demonstrating it by leaking sensitive information, causing a scandal, giving an advantage to a rival, etc. every now and then. The rest of the US is watching the events in Gotham thinking, as people so often do, “Someone should do something! …But it’s not gonna be me!” (For the sake of the plot just quietly ignore the Superfam and Wonderfam and Flashfam and so on, okay?). Besides, Gotham’s crime rates are the lowest they’ve ever been. Oracle is untouchable and none of the illicit activity can be traced back to Babs, or even proven at all most of the time.

Keep in mind, Babs still doesn’t technically directly kill anyone. Tim doesn’t either. He just arrests criminals and disturbers of the peace and hands them over to the justice system. Business as usual. When they and all records of them disappear overnight, and when nobody ever gets out of Blackgate or Arkham… well, questioning that isn’t in his job description, and Babs and his job are all he has left. He’s come too far to give them up.

Four years into Babs’s mayorship, Gotham’s settled into its continually worsening dystopian status quo under a utopian facade. The roll down the slope accelerates when Jim’s spying is discovered. Babs is horrified, furious and deeply hurt. She almost, almost backs down, but falls victim to the sunk cost fallacy and desperately reaffirms her self-righteousness. He has frustratingly durable moral integrity, so she orders him arrested to get him out of sight and out of mind because again, she cannot handle another loss. The rebel Batboys break him out, they fight Python and the police, it’s sad and dramatic. The rebels get away by the skin of their teeth, but they’re followed. A raid on their base deals harsh blows and gets a sizeable proportion of them arrested, killed or traumatized into submission. They regroup and try to find a way to take Oracle by surprise. Jim is now the Shadow Guard’s co-leader with Dick.

Gotham is peaceful. It’s orderly. Supervillains are a thing of the past. Barbara is like the oracles of legend: whatever she says will be, will be. Needless to say, she won’t have much competition in the upcoming mayoral election. From there, she plans to expand beyond Gotham. The only problem that remains is how to stop her treacherous family and lay the past to rest once and for all…

That’s the catch with oracle stories, isn’t it? In the end, you find you’ve become exactly what you most strived to avoid being. Think of King Oedipus, the archetypal Greek tragedy and ironic prophecy story: a just, wise and noble leader stubbornly seeking knowledge to protect their people from ruin in a time of great suffering, only for they themselves to be the criminal they were looking for and the cause of their city’s corruption.

I’m ending it here with a five year time difference and pretty much in the heroes’ darkest hour, because this is where I would have (my) canon Babs, Steph and Cass transported to this world to help bring dark Oracle down.

[marauderundercover]

Day 6: Party

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE 

Continuation of days two and three

Marinette grins at her reflection in the mirror. The costume was perfect- close enough to the original that you could tell who she was, but also with her own touch so that she didn’t hate looking at the costume. She’d even curled her hair slightly. The knock at the front door makes her squeal in excitement, knowing exactly who it is. 

“Cass!” She cheers, opening the door and grinning widely at her best friend. Sure, Cass didn’t talk a lot (she was like Luka in that way), but she always seemed to know when Marinette needed help out of her own head. And she was eternally grateful for that. She was even more grateful that Cass had agreed to do a duo costume with her since Jason apparently didn’t want to dress up. He was ‘too old’ or something. Well, Marinette wanted to have fun and wear a damn costume. 

“The suit is amazing! I’m not sure the cowl I made will be good enough for it.” Marinette says worriedly, examining the stitches on Cass’ costume. “Where’d you say you got this?” She asks, frowning. It was definitely higher quality than the Halloween store downtown. Cass just smiles, the one that basically says ‘not telling’. Mari just grins, used to it by now. She passes the cowl to Cass and grabs her own domino mask, sliding it on. Posing next to Cass in the full length mirror, Marinette takes a picture and sends it to the group chat that Jason had recently added her to. Dropping her phone into her purse and grabbing her keys, she turns to Cass. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

“Ready.” Cass says. Marinette grins. Look out, Gotham, Batman and Robin are out on the town. 

---

Dick squeals as the picture comes through on the groupchat. He was beyond relieved that Jagged had scheduled his Halloween party two weeks before the actual holiday. It meant that he, and the rest of his brothers, could actually go instead of being on the extra patrols they always had to schedule around the holiday. Grinning, he opens twitter. 

@flyingrayson

Look at my little sisters! Aren’t they the cutest?! #halloween #Waynefam #jaggedstone

[image description: One girl stands with a hand on her hip, dressed in what is obviously a spin on a Robin costume, including: a domino mask, black tights, dark red tunic with a Robin logo, gold belt, knee high emerald boots, and a dual sided cape black on the outside and gold on the inside. Another girl stands next to her with her arms crossed over her chest, dressed in what is obviously a Batman costume, including: black catsuit, yellow utility belt, black cape, and a redesigned black cowl.]

---

Marinette pecks Jason’s cheek and grins. 

“What, not a Robin fan?” She asks teasingly at his frown. He huffs. 

“Not really. More of a...Red Hood guy.” He says, and she snorts. 

“Of course you’d like the one with guns.” She says, shaking her head with a smile. “His costume is actually probably one of my favorites. Well, besides the whole helmet thing.” Jason grins, pulling her in and giving her a sweet kiss before he glances behind her and groans. 

“My brothers just walked in.” He says and she smiles. 

“Go say hi, I’ve gotta go ask Uncle Jagged a question really quick. I’ll be right back and Cass and I can show your brothers our awesome costumes in person.” She says, pecking his cheek before walking away. She looks around for Jagged, but frowns when she doesn’t see him in the main room. Pulling out her phone, she sends him a quick text asking where he is. 

In the garden with Fang!!!!!!!

She shakes her head fondly. Of course he skipped out on his own party to spend time with his crocodile. Smiling, she heads out to the garden to try and get to him. She’d wanted to see if the man planned on being in the US around Thanksgiving. Bruce had already invited her (probably to get Jason to show up) and said she could invite any of her family as well. Since her parents and superhero partner were both dead and her grandparents didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, she decided she’d really love Jagged and Penny to come instead. As she walks outside, she’s shocked that Fang doesn’t immediately run up to her. 

“Uncle Jagged?” She calls, frowning. Where was he? And why was it so dark out here? Fang was scared of the dark. Jagged never would have brought him outside without more lights on, he was too protective of him. She tenses when she notices a slumped figure next to the bench Jagged had put in the gardens for when she visits. It was one of her favorite places to sit and design. 

“Hello?” She calls, watching the figure for any movement. Seeing none, she steps closer and her stomach drops. Immediately she runs over and checks her Uncle for a pulse. She sighs in relief when she feels it, but the gash on his head is worrisome. How-

“Hello, Birdie!” An amused voice rings behind her, making her blood run cold. She whirls around and manages to catch a glimpse of the man’s pale face before a thick piece of metal flies at her head and the world goes black. 

---

“Jaybird! Where’s Mari and Cass? They’re blowing up on twitter, even MDC liked my tweet!” Dick says happily, making Jason scowl. 

“Did you seriously post my girlfriend all over your twitter?” He asks grumpily. Dick nods. 

“Oh yeah. Her and Cass looked too cute to keep it to ourselves. Where are they anyway?” Dick asks, scanning the room. 

“M said she needed to go talk to her Uncle about something. Personally, I think she was just avoiding you guys. You all crowd her every time you see her.” Jason reprimands, crossing his arms. Replacement rolls his eyes. 

“It’s ‘cause she’s so much cooler than you. And she’s not an asshole like you are.” He says. 

“Something’s wrong.” Cass says, suddenly appearing at Jason’s side. He jumps slightly, but then frowns at her. 

“What?” He asks, surprised to see the deep scowl form on her face. 

“Don’t know.” She huffs. 

“Well if Cassandra believes that something is wrong, we should investigate.” Damian says, looking relieved that he wouldn’t be asked to socialize with anyone. A startled scream from outside makes the five vigilantes tense before running towards the noise. Jason curses when he realizes it’s Penny Rolling, Jagged Stone’s….something. She’s kneeling by a slumped figure, shaking it until a groan escapes it. Jason feels his blood run cold when the figure’s hair catches the light. It’s Jagged. Then where-

“Where’s she? Where’s she at?” Jagged slurs out, blinking wildly. 

“Who?” Penny asks, gently holding the man’s face. Jason frowns at the gash. 

“M. He wanted ‘er.” He says, and though the man is looking around crazily and slurring his words, Jason can tell he’s completely serious. And M-

“Do you mean Marinette?” Jason asks, stepping forward. Jagged frowns, but nods. 

“Crazy clown.” He adds before turning and throwing up in the grass. Jason growls and turns on his heel, ready to go hunt the damned clown down. Out of everyone in this damned city that he could’ve targeted, why did he choose her?

“Jason, wait.” Dick says, grabbing his wrist. “We need to have a plan. Come on. You can’t just go out like this.” He reminds him lowly, Jason’s eyes narrow but he follows anyway. Might as well use the good tools. That fucking clown won’t make it to morning. 

---

Ice cold water falls over her and Marinette sits up, gasping in shock at the sudden temperature change. 

“Little cold, Birdie?” A voice asks before walking around and standing in front of her- a huge smile on his face and a thick piece of metal in his hands.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Marinette says, trying not to let her voice shake. This was the villain. The one she never wanted to meet. The one that gave her boyfriend nightmares that he couldn’t explain to her. And now she was alone with him. 

“If you’re sure, we could have some...fun before Batsy arrives.” He laughs. 

“Why would Batman show up?” She asks. “You do realize this is just a Halloween costume, right?” She flinches as the piece of metal- a crowbar, she thinks shakily- stops inches in front of her face.

“How stupid do you think I am? Of course it’s a costume. A costume posted by one Dick Grayson. You’re a Wayne, somehow. And Batsy always shows up when a Wayne is involved.” Joker says, his twisted grin making her sick to her stomach. 

“I’m not a Wayne! Batman isn’t going to come for me.” She argues, cursing her decision to not wear her earrings today. Some days were harder than others, especially leaving in a mask. Even if the mask was a costume. Every time she tried to put on her earrings today, she shook and started to panic. Granted, it was probably for the best. Because she would definitely be tempted to transform and she did not want to give Joker that kind of knowledge. 

“Wayne or not, one of the bats will come. You have friends in very high places, Birdie.” Joker tuts, twirling the crowbar in his hand. She flinches as it nears her face, making Joker laugh. “If I wanted to hit you, I would.” He says. She doesn’t even have time to figure out what he means because her shoulder explodes in pain. The pain is blinding and she wants to scream but no sound will come out of her mouth as she gasps for breath. 

“That’s no good. A silent bird is a dead bird. So sing, Birdie.” Joker demands, and he aims slightly lower this time, shattering her left arm. And she screams. The pain tearing at her throat nothing compared to the pain in her arm, her shoulder. She sobs, the shaking making the pain worse, but she was unable to stop. It hurt. 

“S-stop!” She manages to yell, nearly biting her tongue when Joker grabs her chin and forces her to look up at him. 

“Hmm. You’re right! The internet should definitely see this.” He laughs, pulling a phone out. She shakes her head, flinching as he whacks the crowbar against the floor near her chair. He points the phone at her, and she knows he’s recording. The bastard. 

“Hello Gotham! Look at this little Birdie. I’m afraid she flew too far, and now we have to clip her wings.” He says, sighing as if he’s actually apologetic. He sets his phone up on the table and stalks over to her before turning and waving at the camera. She watches him move the crowbar around warily, her breathing shaky. God, she hoped Jason wasn’t watching this. Hoped he was somewhere safe, not trying to go do something stupid. She winces as Joker acts like he’s about to hit her, only to stop before the crowbar actually connects with her good arm.

“I told you, I’d only hit you if I wanted to.” He chuckles. 

“Go to hell.” She spits out, ignoring the voice in her head (that sounded suspiciously like Tikki) telling her to shut up. To not antagonize the crazy man with the crowbar. 

“Gladly.” He says with a grin, rearing back and swinging the crowbar out to hit her in the ribs. Her scream echoes around the room and she has no time to catch her breath before he’s attacking her ribs again. Tears stream down her face, but she can’t scream, she can’t even catch her breath. I’m going to die, she thinks, and the thought is terrifying. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to live. 

---

“Do we have a fucking location or am I about to go shoot up every goddamned warehouse in this city?” Jason growls as he zips through the streets on his bike. He knew Babs and Alfred were back at the cave, watching the livestream and working to locate Marinette. And even though he couldn’t see the video, the audio playing through the comms was enough to make his stomach churn. 

He didn’t give one singular fuck what Bruce said. He was going to kill that goddamned clown the minute he saw him. 

---

Marinette glares at the Joker, barely able to keep her head up. For some unknown reason, he’d decided to use his fists on her face instead of the crowbar. Not that she was complaining. She wouldn’t have survived multiple hits to the head. Not with the force he had. She watches him, and she knows he’s saying something, but she can’t tell what it is. She’s too tired, too hurt, to care what he’s saying anyway. Unless it’s some magical cure to stop her from feeling like she’s broken into a million pieces, she doesn’t want to hear it. 

Eyes wandering behind him, she’s relieved when she notices the costumed figure. The cowl, the cape- Batman did come. How strange. Though, she had assumed that Joker was live streaming. So that could definitely explain that one. Deciding she was out of immediate danger, she lets her eyes droop shut, reveling in the darkness that surrounds her. She let’s it stay, and she can feel things slipping away, some of the pain lessening. It’s nice, until someone is poking her and talking much too close to her. She lets out a whine as the person forces her eyes open. 

“‘m tired.” She mumbles, wincing at the pain that comes with breathing, with talking. 

“I know, kid, god I know. Just keep your eyes open.” A voice says. She blinks, the blue marks on the suit in front of her helping her to identify the vigilante. 

“Couldn’t fight.” She spits out, tears springing to her eyes as her attempt at conversation makes her chest ache. 

“But you’re fighting now, you’re staying awake. You’re doing such a good job, I’m proud of you. Stay awake kiddo.” Nightwing says quietly. She vaguely feels the ropes slide off her wrists and ankles. Fighting to stay sitting up, because slumping will hurt more than she’s willing to allow, she sighs. 

“Jason’s gonna worry.” She mumbles, and Nightwing hums. 

“Ambulance is almost here, kid, just stay awake.” He says instead of asking about Jason. She hopes Jason is okay. Hopes he isn’t mad at himself for letting her go talk to Jagged alone. Suddenly, sirens are close and she lets the world finally slip away.

---

The pain is the first thing that clues her in. She isn’t dead. Which is a relief. But the way her entire body aches, is not a relief. Forcing her eyes open, she sighs at Jason’s slumped form in a chair next to her bed. She wished she knew how long she’d been in the hospital so she could scold him. Because he was still wearing the outfit he had on at the party. Which meant he hadn’t given himself a break. Just as she’s trying to decide how to ask the nurses for pain medicine, Jason’s eyes open. 

“Marinette!” He gasps, starting to lunge forward, then stopping himself. “I thought, god, M, I thought-”

“‘m okay.” She says softly, and he frowns. 

“Okay? You were nearly beaten to death with a goddamned crowbar. You’re not okay.” He argues. She sighs. 

“I’m alive, and I’m with you. I’m okay.” She insists, wincing. He looks like he still wants to argue, but stops himself. He scoots closer and holds her hand, kissing the back of it softly. 

“I’ll never leave you.” He promises. She smiles softly, before falling back asleep, finally safe.

Tag list:  @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess 

[river-bottom-nightmare]

“That’s my husband,” Dick sighs at the reception, eyes only for Wally as he does a frankly ridiculous dance with Bart. Dick’s been fiddling with the ring on his hand nonstop, and it’s only been there for a couple hours but already he can’t imagine taking it off. Barbara calls them both dorks, and Dick doesn’t ever think he’s smiled as bright as he did.

“That’s my husband,” Dick says with a wink, and the shaking little girl underneath in his arms lets out a little sob-laugh. He got her to smile, anyway, and the was the goal. Wally’s out on the battlefield, arcs of lightning surrounding him, taking down enemy after enemy with an efficiency Dick taught him. Wally sends him a nod when the coast is clear, and Dick leads the civilians out of the crumbled remains of the building. He laughs a bit when a boy, only fifteen but patching up injuries with Dick like he’s done it all his life, tells him his husband’s so freaking cool.

“That’s my husband,” Dick shouts, slamming his hands on the table a bit harder than necessary, but Roy’s whoops and hollers make up for it. The restaurant they were at had a sign boasting a challenge: try and eat seven pounds of scrambled eggs, sausage, pepperoni, and hash browns in under an hour! Dick, Roy, and Donna had immediately turned to look at Wally, whose smug smirk could rival Dick’s back when he was Robin. Now, the restaurant employees were looking on with fascinated horror while Roy and Dick cheered Wally on, Donna recording the entire thing. Garth had his head in his hands, a look of utter defeat on his face. In the end, Wally won the challenge (of course he did). When they handed him the prize money, he gave it right back and ordered another huge meal for the five of them to share.

“That’s my husband,” Dick says, spitting out blood and a broken tooth with a devilish smile. The Court of Owls was supposedly mythical, supposedly untouchable, supposedly infallible. But even they were starting to get a little concerned. They’d stepped back in horror when Dick had only laughed at the taser a Talon spun in his hands, because Dick thought back to the nights Wally woke up screaming, lightning dancing around his body as he shoved himself as far away from Dick as possible for fear of hurting him, but fuck that. Wally was his husband, and nothing would keep him from doing everything he could to get that terrified look off his face and wipe the tears from his cheeks. Dick had been missing for three days, but that was enough. He could hear screams as something silent wreaked vengeance, Dick could recognize the affect Batman had on others blindfolded. Gunshots had pierced the air. But it was only when a crackle of electricity split through the air, when he could practically smell the ozone, that he looked up at the Court with a fearless smirk. He dared them to hurt him in front of Bruce, in front of Tim and Damian and Jason and Cass, in front of Wally. He dared them. 

“That’s my husband,” Dick tells the cashier, a proud look on his face. The cashier looked nothing but confused. It was Valentine’s day, and instead of buying heart shaped chocolates or a silk blindfold or anything, Wally had gone around the entire store and picked up ever single piece of Nightwing merchandise he could find. When he came to the register, a veritable mountain of objects spilled out onto the counter, including a Nightwing mug, seven Nightwing T-shirts, a Nightwing garlic presser, thigh-high Nightwing socks (which Dick knew for a fact Wally could pull off), a set of earrings a Nightwing charm, and a Nightwing pie dish. The cashier raised his eyebrows at the both of them, but Dick couldn’t bring himself to care, kissing Wally’s red cheek, flushed with pride.

“That’s my husband,” Dick murmurs into the side of Wally’s neck. They’re still dressed to the nines, at an event giving Wally an award for one of his scientific papers. It felt good to be the arm candy for one night, rather than the other way around. Wally’s ears had gone bright red from the minute they started talking about his achievements to the minute he stepped off the stage, but Dick felt nothing but pride. Dick hugged Wally from behind and Wally relaxed into it, going almost boneless. Tomorrow, the Flash would have to go to the Watchtower, because the Flash couldn’t not show up. Tomorrow, Nighwing would target that coke dealer that he’d been scoping out for the past couple of days, knowing the risk every time he put on that suit. Tomorrow, there may be an alien invasion or a robot army or an evil occultist, and Nightwing and the Flash would be in the middle of it all, fighting in the thick of the fray because that’s who they are. But for tonight, it was just Dick and Wally, fingers tangled together, the smell of ozone in the air that followed Wally wherever he went and the taste of home on Dick’s lips.

me: i should really write some angst. i’ve been getting far too fluffy as of late. let my readers suffer also me: DICK LOVES WALLY SO GODDAMN MUCH

anyway, tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @dangerduckjpeg @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog

[ultimatetornshipper]

Daminette December Day 5

@daminette-december2019-2020

I can’t believe I’m doing this oms, Sweaters didn’t exist okay? I had no choice!! lmaooo no regrets tho, I’m loving where this fic is going. 

Anyway thank you for everyone who left such lovely comments on the previous chapter I literally almost cried thank you!!

Princes and Pedestals

Chapter 5 – Sweater

Previous

Next

“Oh I can’t wait to show you the stables, we each have our own horse. I named mine Lavender, since my favorite color is purple. Cass's is named Rose, Dick's is Robin, Damian’s is Ace, Tim named his Cloud and Jason...,” Stephanie stopped walking and released Marinette’s hand, turning around, she sighed, “Well, you should know, Jason was ten when he got his and the horse had been sick and well... it resulted in him naming the poor animal Sweater. He refuses to change it,”

Marinette laughed at Stephanie’s clear annoyance with this fact. She’d come to her room this morning and simply insisted that she show her the stables before negotiations regarding their alliance took place. Marinette had agreed, she was coming to quite like this girl and her energetic nature.

Stephanie kept walking, this time at a slower pace, she lead Marinette out of the castle and greeted the gardeners. The servants they passed greeted her back and smiled widely, everyone was clearly fond of her. Marinette couldn’t blame them, Stephanie’s energy was contagious.

“You’ll probably get your own one-,” she started, before interrupting herself, eyes widening, she laughed nervously, “I mean if you stay long enough you’ll practically be family so I wouldn’t be surprised, if you got one, that is,”

Marinette thought her behavior was strange but she’d found that questioning Stephanie’s actions only led to more questions.

“Hey Steph, wait up!” someone yelled. Marinette turned towards the voice, seeing Prince Richard approaching them. He was the only brother at the summer castle she hadn’t informally met yet.

When he caught up to them, he nodded his head to her, “Your Majesty,”

She returned the gesture, smiling, “Your Highness, feel free to call me Marinette,”

She saw approval flicker across his eyes, he smiled back, “As long as you agree to call me Dick. Where are you two ladies going this fine morning?”

Stephanie rolled her eyes at him and started walking again, “Calm down, worry wart, I’m just taking her to the stables. Wanna join us?”

“I’d love to,” Dick replied, walking along with her and Stephanie. He looked towards Marinette, “She tell you about their names yet?”

She nodded slowly, “Yeah, she did. Do you mind me asking why you named yours Robin?”

“Robin was my mother’s nickname,” he said, a sad smile on his face, he shrugged, “I guess when I first got here I just wanted something to remind me of her, naming my horse after her... it helped ease my grief,”

Marinette felt as though a knife was being twisted in her heart, the black dress she wore suddenly heavier than usual. It was then that she realized that she only had two days left before her mourning period was officially over. Two days before a year was over since it had happened.

She realized they were both looking at her, she needed to respond. She looked up and smiled at him, nodding, “I can understand that,”

Stephanie touched her shoulder and looked her in the eye, “I-,”

Marinette gave her a meaningful look and shook her head. Stephanie searched her gaze for a few seconds before she nodded solemnly and opened the door they’d stopped in front of. She walked through and started pointing out which horse was which.

The atmosphere was heavier than it had been, but as they progressed it seemed to lift. Marinette zoned them out slightly, making all the right faces and noises. She wouldn’t be surprised if they knew she was faking it, given their demonstrated ability to read people, but she couldn’t bring herself to care in the moment.

She thought back. There really only was two days left. A year ago today they’d been laughing, playing card games and pretending that everything was alright. They'd known the end was near and wanted the last few days of his life to be happy.

Outside his room the atmosphere had been sad, Rose was crying while Juleka softly scratched her back. Nino had been torn apart, clutching on to Alya's hand for dear life, the red head trying to console him. And Marinette... Marinette had held herself together. She held all of them together.

And when he finally faded, she’d made herself go numb, but people looked at her like she was seconds away from falling apart anyway. And maybe she was.

She hadn’t been able to take it, though. She’d disappeared for a week under the guise of going on a mission. She went to their base near the north western shore and there she cried more than she thought anyone should be able to. Chloe and Luka had kept everyone away at her request and she’d screamed and mourned and grieved. But after that week she didn’t shed a single tear again.

She returned and refused to speak about what she’d done during her week or where she’d gone. She’d comforted everyone else and after a few days they stopped asking questions. She’d organized his funeral and worn her black dresses.

And she’d been wearing them ever since, they were the only outward sign that anything was possibly wrong.

She never spoke of it. But she only had two days left. Tomorrow a year ago he died. And she had no idea how she was going to make it out alive.

After half an hour in the stables listening to Stephanie and Dick's stories they made their way inside and had breakfast before she met up with Master Fu to finalize their thoughts and preparations for the negotiations of the alliance.

She sat next to him on one of the many benches in the castle hall. After a few seconds, she broke the silence, “He’s my match,”

Master Fu nodded slowly, “I sensed it too, you have the ring then?”

She nodded and removed said object from one of the many pockets in her gown. She curled her fist tightly around it.

“I assume you wish to offer him the position?” he said, still only staring straight ahead.

“Yes,” she replied, her heart heavy, responsibility weighing her down.

“I trust you, Guardian,” he said, pausing, he looked at her, “I am proud of who you’ve become Marinette,”

The words meant more to her than she wanted them to, she didn’t want to care what he thought. It was because of him that the ring had been given to the wrong person in the first place. He hadn’t even told them when he’d realized and it lead to the boy she’d loved’s death.

They reviewed the terms of the alliance and headed over to the room where negotiations would take place.

When she entered everyone inside stood, proper greetings were exchanged and everyone sat. The king and all the children she’d met were sitting on one side of the table, she and Master Fu sat down on the other side.

The atmosphere was different here. Stephanie smiled at her but it didn’t really reach her eyes. They had something on the line, Marinette was itching to know what.

Had she been wrong in thinking they didn’t need this alliance as much as she and her court did?

They discussed the terms and though a few compromises were made, it all went over rather smoothly. She and King Bruce did most of the talking while the others rarely spoke.

“Right, now that we have most of the details sorted out, we have a proposal for the type of alliance we wish to establish,” King Bruce said, she noticed all the siblings tense, Damian's destruction and chaos spiked. That was strange, did they know something of this proposal?

“Yes?” she replied warily, all eyes were on her, but she kept her gaze locked on the King.

“I propose we strengthen this alliance with a marriage, between you and my son,” he said simply.

The room held its breath. She saw Fu move, about to reply but she held her hand up to stop him. She was intrigued by his offer, and if could easily work out in her favor if she played her cards right.

She held the King’s gaze, she had a feeling she already knew the answer but she asked anyway, “Which one?”

“Damian, my youngest,” he replied immediately. She’d been right, this would make her life much easier. It also showed her that, for some reason, they needed this alliance too.

She looked at where the siblings were sitting, they were all staring at her, clearly trying to gouge her reaction. But she kept her face perfectly blank.

Then she made the mistake of meeting his gaze. The green eyes flung her back in time and for a second she felt the façade slip.

Live for both of us, m’lady. The words rung through her ears. The words had been haunting her for almost a year. One of the last things he had said to her, a different kind of desperation in his eyes, he wanted her to move on, to be happy, to live.

She quickly snapped back to reality and put back her mask, but they’d seen it, the dent in her armor. Their reactions were varying levels of confusion, curiosity and understanding.

She turned to the King, “I have one condition,”

The entire room tensed again, even Fu didn’t know what she was going to say, but she didn’t let it stop her.  

“Which would be?” he replied, he was intrigued, but wary of what she’d said. That was good, she had his attention.  She just needed to phrase her words right, she needed to give Damian a choice in this too, somehow.

“Anyone I marry needs to be able to rule alongside me. In order to do that, he needs to wield a miraculous, but it can’t be just any miraculous. He needs to be able to accept the responsibility of wielding the Black Cat miraculous,” she put it down on the table and their eyes jumped back and forth between her and the ring.

She turned to Damian and fisted her dress in her hand when his eyes met hers, she needed to explain further, she needed to speak, she could freak out later, “I’ll give you a day to consider my condition, in that time I’ll entrust you with the miraculous, you can get to know Plagg, the miraculous’s kwami,” he nodded. She stood and pushed the ring forward so that he could take it.

“Does this mean you accept?” Dick asked, eyes now fully focused on her, the tension still there.

“If Damian accepts my condition, then yes, I accept,” she said simply, hoping that would ease his worry.

It didn’t. He stayed tense, his siblings all in similar conditions as the silence stretched after his words. Marinette looked over them, what could be worrying them so much?

“Um... Marinette, I – we,” Stephanie said hesitantly, gesturing to her and her siblings, “We were wondering if you'd be able to stay in Gotham instead of him moving to – well we know you lead the whole Order and everything but we don’t want to lose him, you know. And I know it’s a lot to ask but...,” she looked at Marinette, and she could see her desperation. So that’s what it was. They didn’t want to loose Damian.

She considered her options. She liked these people, and it wasn’t like she ruled a country, she wasn’t tied down to one place. It wasn’t like them and Gotham where they had to stay in the country.

All she’d have to do is move home base to Gotham and have her court travel and live here, she wanted to be near them. She also wanted to find a place as close to the Castle as possible, but it wouldn’t be hard considering Damian would be her husband.

She pushed the association she’d once had with the word away.

Maybe it would do them all good to move on. To make new memories in a new place. It would certainly do her good not to be somewhere she had made memories with him.

She turned her focus to the siblings. She was pretty sure Cassandra was holding Damian’s arm under the table, Damian was toying with the ring, but his face was resigned. Jason was staring at her as though through willpower alone he could convince her to let Damian stay with them. Dick and Stephanie both looked hopeful and desperate. The King had a blank look on his face but she had no doubt that he, too, was on the edge of his seat.

She met Stephanie’s gaze and gave her a soft smile, “Sure,”

“Sure? What do you mean? Like sure he can – you two- you'll both stay with us like at home?” Jason said, already standing, hands on the table. The others stared at her in varying degrees of surprise and shock. Cass was smiling at her.

She nodded, “I just need to move my Court's home base to Gotham. If he accepts the ring and its responsibilities, I’d be willing to have them move here too,”

Steph stood and ran around the table, grabbing her in a tight hug, “ Thank you,” she said softly.

Marinette felt her heart warm at how much they cared. Damian was staring at her in shock, his mouth slightly hanging open. Dick had a huge smile and Bruce was looking apologetic for Stephanie’s actions.

Marinette looked at this family of people, who she doubted would be related in most situations, and how well they fit.

She watched as Jason squeezed Damian’s shoulder and Dick hugged him from behind. Cass ran a hand softly through his hair and said something to him that made him smile.

She felt her heart long for that kind of familiarity. 

Stephanie pulled back from the hug but held on to her arm. The blonde smiled at her fondly, and Marinette suddenly had a feeling that maybe, it was only a matter of time before she’d have it.

Taglist:

@animegirlweeb @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @forgottenfriends @wolf-for-life @heyitsbugette 

[peppersonironi]

Batfam Whumptober Day Two

{Read on Ao3}

No. 2: “Pick Who Dies” | Collars | Kidnapped

Summary: Cassandra is kidnapped as a Wayne for the first time. Knowing Bruce would want her to stay out and wait for help, she doesn't fight back. However, this reminds her of when she couldn't fight, and Cass finds herself hating the helplessness. As she is being manhandled and used for ransom, she fears being unable to fight back.

A/N: So I wanted to write something for Cass, ‘cause there’s really not enough hurt/comfort out there for her. Lot’s of people portray her as perfect, and I get it, she’s Cassandra Cain, and absolutely awesome, but I think it takes away from her character to assume she’s confident 24/7. Not sure if I did her credit here, but the intent is still there.

Where did the humor come from? You’ll never know.  

TW: Referenced child abuse (Cass briefly remembers Cain. Nothing graphic)

Cass smiled at the stray cat walking by the café where she was currently enjoying coffee with Dick and Steph. It was small and a bit scrappy, but still had a beautiful blue-gray coat. She briefly considered hunting it down and bringing it back for Damian, knowing not even Bruce could say no to her. But she decided against it, wanting to stay and enjoy her afternoon. They were almost done, anyway.

“And then Jason announced he was gonna run away to vegas and become a stripper!”

Cassandra turned back to where Dick had just finished a rousing tail of the dangers of a high Jason todd. Stephanie snorted out her tea, and even Cass gave a little smile.

“You give him pointers?” She asked. It was an inside joke with the family to call Dick a stripper. It was made worse when it was revealed he could pole dance.

Dick’s eyes went wide, and Stephanie’s roaring laughter renewed. “I thought you were the good one!” He whisper-yelled, clearly shocked.

Cass smiled coyly at her older brother. “I am.”

Stephanie finally settled down enough to chokingly announce: “Not that Bruce knows!”

Dick frowned good naturedly. “Y’know,” he began, “there was a time when I was the favorite child.”

Cass nodded. “Then Jason came. Thank you both for saving my spot.”

Dick squawked, Steph cackled, Cassandra smirked into her coffee, and they went back to enjoying their day out.

*****

It was twenty minutes later when Cass saw them. Three men in civilian clothes who had been following them from the coffee shop that they had left from a few minutes ago. Neither Dick nor Steph had noticed them, as they hadn’t interacted with each other. But Cass could tell.

“Wanna go to the movies next?” Steph asked, pointed to a theatre less than a block away.

Cass glanced back at the men, then towards the theatre. “Yes,” she said, “But hurry.”

Stephanie and Dick frowned at her before following Cass’s gaze.

“Oh crap,” her brother said before casually turning around. He grabbed Cass and Steph’s hands and began to lead them towards the theatre.

They had almost reached the doors when a large black van pulled up. The three men jumped forward and each grabbed their own Wayne. Stephanie managed to smack hers away with her purse - Cass was 87% sure she kept a brick in it at all times - and Dick elbowed his in the gut.

But there wasn’t much more they could do. Every Gotham vigilante knew better than to show off their fighting skills in public - sure some minor self defence skills were passable - and so the trio was at a loss.

Cass ducked under the arm of her attacker, but was caught off guard by Stephanie’s sudden shriek. She glanced over to find the man twisting her arm back.

Cass’s own attacker took this as an opportunity to grab her around her waist. Cass could only watch helplessly as she was pulled into the van.

“Leave them, we have a girl!” the driver called, seeing Stephanie bite her attacker.

Dick was thrown to the ground, and Stephanie shoved into a store window right before a black hood was thrown over her head, and everything went black.

*****

Cass was very still on the chair she had been tied to; the hood still over her head. She had been brought in after about ten minutes of driving, before being dragged into some warehouse by the docks.

The hood wasn’t completely dark, allowing her to spot multiple exit strategies, and take in her surroundings. She could have escaped twenty-four different times at this point. Twice that if she took action in the next thirty seconds.

But she didn’t.

Cass knew what Bruce would want, she had sat through The (what to do if you’re kidnapped) Talk, of course. Cassandra knew what the protocol was.

Stay in place.

Be a good hostage.

Don’t fight back.

Wait for someone to come get you.

Normally, Cass would be perfectly fine with following protocol - she wasn’t Jason who did the exact opposite just to piss Bruce off. But this time … it was different. This time she was anxious.

“We have the brat,” some thug called, “send the ransom demand.”

Cass bit her lip and strained her ears to pick up some snippets of conversation, but failed. There was a point, twenty minutes later, where she could have sworn she heard Bruce’s voice, but she was unable to pick out specific words.

And so she stewed, ignoring the bunching of her muscles, the intense urge to fight back and escape, to not be weak.

Suddenly, the hood was ripped off of her head. Cass blinked at the sudden brightness, her eyes taking a moment to focus on the pair of thugs before her.

“Head up, pretty thing,” one said, pulling a phone out of his pocket, “Your daddy wants proof of life.”

Cass raised her head - ‘be a good hostage’ ringing in her ears - and looked past the first man. His partner held the black hood, and had a distinct air of pity about him. Subtle, his fellow criminal not noticing.

But, oh.

That was it wasn’t it?

The pity.

Cassandra was thrown back, back to when that telepath had rerouted her brain. When she could speak. But no longer fight. She remembered the pity in Barbara’s eyes. Sure, the woman was excited that Cass could start to communicate, but the former batgirl had understood more than anyone the pain of being unable to protect. Bruce had been the same, hadn’t let her out.

She had felt so helpless then; so fundamentally wrong that it had hurt worse then Cain.

When she was with her father, she had known the expectations. There was never pity with David, only pain.

A flash showed in her eyes from the phone, and Cass winced. The hood was shoved back over her head, and the world was once again dark.

She’d lost her chance.

She hadn’t fought.

Cain would’ve berated her.

Perhaps Bruce would be proud.

Cass took this as comfort, trying to put the nervous tension in her bones out of her mind. This ‘following the rules’ became harder by the minute. In ten minutes, she was fighting down panic. Why was this so hard? Tim got kidnapped at least twice a month, Damian even more. Why couldn’t she handle this?

Cass took a shaky breath, licking her lips. She could do this. She would be strong. Not fighting was strong. She … she could do this.

Then she felt a body moving near her, and instantly tensed. Dozens of different tactics swirled through her mind. Stand up, break the chair and use the arms as escrima sticks. Dislocate her thumbs, slowly pull out of the restraints, and when someone comes close, aim for the nerve cluster in the right shoulder, sweep the leg.

A part of her was always scared of what she could do, but now more than ever. Did she really have enough self-control to stop an attack?

She didn’t have a chance to answer herself, as sudden sounds flurried around the room. Sounds of fighting: punches making contact, grunts, screams, bodies hitting the floor.

“Cassandra Cain?” A gloved hand rested on Cass’s shoulder, but she didn’t lash out. She smiled.

The hood was gently lifted off of her head, and Cass looked into the masked face of her brother, Dick.

“Hi.” she said, eyes wide.

“Hey there, Miss. Let’s get you out of here, ‘kay?”

Cassandra looked past him to where Spoiler was dealing with the last of the thugs. She gave a relieved smile. “Okay, Nightwing.”

Five minutes later Cass found herself wrapped in a shock blanket and sitting on the back of an ambulance. An officer had tried to get a statement out of her, but was quickly brushed off by the Commissioner. He was good friends with the Waynes, and consequently the only person Cass felt comfortable around at the moment. That was, until she heard a pair of familiar voices calling out from the crowd.

“Cass!” Stephanie shoved herself in front of Dick to wrap Cassandra in a tight hug. “Are you okay? We were so worried!”

“I’m fine,” she answered, giving a small smile. “Thank you.”

Steph did a conspiratorial wink before Dick stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. “Hey sis,” he whispered in her ear, “you scared us.”

Cass shrugged. “Sorry.”

Dick shook his head. “Not your fault. You did the best you could. How about we head home and watch a movie? I’m proud of you.”

And that? That made this all worth it.

Tagging @starrystories2

[bluboothalassophile]

From the Action Prompts #9 please!

Hello Gryffindor,

I know it’s not your Uchiha family loves, but I hope you enjoy the Batfamily as well! =)

NotDeadpool!

Jason wasn’t into working with his family, he really wasn’t.

Dick was the golden child, who could and often would preach tohim about the merits of being in a family; but only if Jason surrendered andsaw the world entirely from Dick’s point of view and forgot his years of traumaand pretended nothing bad ever happened to him. Okay, so Dick didn’t say that,but as Dick never bothered to see things from his point of view that’s how itfelt.

Tim was okay, Jason just had troubles working with Tim becauseTim had replaced him. And yeah, now, he got it, he got it a lot better now thatthere wasn’t this little green haze on the world, but it didn’t make it hurtany less.

Duke was new, and learning the ropes, but Jason just didn’thave the patience to deal with that possible drama. But he’d help the teen outif asked.

The Demon Spawn could go fuck himself! Jason would ratherhang than deal with that little troglodyte most of the time because the littlePrince felt he was all oh so precious for being the only blood son of BruceWayne. However, Jason wouldn’t let anyone hurt the brat now; especially sincethe green haze wasn’t as strong.

Babs was Babs and that was a complicated thing with her asshe was Miss Perfect.

Kate was just a bitch.

Steph was cool, he actually got Steph as she was also B’s ‘disappointment’.Not that she was, she was a badass blonde who took the world head on. Heactually kind of admired the girl.

Cass was cool too, she was Cass and she was WAY too good forthem, and he didn’t give a shit about her being a former assassin, it wasn’tlike he was any better in that department. Point was Cass was fucking awesomeand he could live with her being a Bat.

Then there was B, which always had Jason torn between cryingfor what had been and screaming for what it was now. Bruce and his’relationship was complicated, at best, a disaster at worst. The worst part was,that was his Dad, and his Dad couldn’t get off his fucking high horse longenough to see everything from his point of view.

For having such and empathetic ‘family’ (because they weregreat at seeing everything from everyone else’s points of view), they epicallysucked at just TRYING to see events through his eyes. And this is why he workedalone and on his own. He didn’t need them, as they didn’t need or want him. Sohe was cool with it.

But that brought him back to the point at hand as he wasperched in an odd position, twisted around in an inhuman way trying to diffusea fucking Joker bomb.

He had long since discarded his helmet to see better and hefelt the sticky heat of the sweat rolling down his temple. His thighs burnedfrom their tight hold on the beam he was hanging onto, his head was spinningbecause he was upside down, his arms were trembling from trying to work, andhis fingers were bleeding. However, his heart, despite beating steadily in hisears, and the blood roaring in his veins, was slow, steady, and he focusedactively on his breathing as he attempted to diffuse this bomb.

“You need to get out of here!” a voice below him bellowed;he vaguely recognized it as B’s, and he snarled around his tool at thedistraction as he kept his focus on the bomb.

The leatherman was in teeth, and he moved the wires.Whatever the fuck Joker had built this was frustrating but he was sure he coulddiffuse it.

“Jason!” someone shouted in his ear, he registered Babs’voice which had him growling as he yanked out his comms and dropped it. Pullingthe leatherman from his teeth he snipped two wires he was sure were rigged upto the timer, noticing the red five freeze he nearly relaxed. Suddenly the clockwas whizzing down, he dropped from his perch as he curled up, no way he’d escape.

Well FUCK HIM! Dying in a fiery explosion, again! FUCK!

There was a boom before he had even hit the ground which hadhim slamming into a wall, he grunted at the impact and felt the searing tearson his skin.

“RUN!” he heard B’s voice, and Jason just struggled tobreath as his ears were ringing and the world a bit blurry.

There was a roaring heat around him as he reluctantly shovedhis way up to his feet and stumbled a few steps, clutching his arm as hestaggered. Weakly and dazedly he struggled to get through the fire as he feltthe building around him trembling.

His knees trembled as he tried to keep upright.

The smoke was burning his lungs, squeezing his world to benothing but a haze which wavered, he could feel the blood rolling down his spinekeeping him going.

He wasn’t dying here.

The thoughts were sentiments though as his knee gave out andhe collapsed. FUCK! Was his last thought as the world vanished.

He twitched his nose as he came too, feeling too much oxygenbeing pushed into his lungs, there was a faint beeping, and he felt a dull throbin his back and body. Trying to look around he felt his hand tightly clasped insomething and the trap freaked him out a bit as he tried to pull away.

“Jason!” a voice gasped, and he looked up a bit, and sawBruce’ grime stained, stubbled face. Which had him frowning a bit.

“When I tell you to run! I Mean Run! Not to casually strollout of a flaming building!” Bruce shouted at him.

“I…?” he managed to get out?

He didn’t get to ask that though as he was hoisted into hisDad’s arms and stunned into silence as his heart monitor revealed the shock ofthis action.

“Don’t ever do that again!” he heard another voice snap.

“’M not Deadpool, hurts too much to do again,” he rasped.

[multifandom-damnation]

I never wanted to change

In my life, I’ve found that you have to unlearn a lot.

I never expected my life to change so much. I’m 17 and already, I’ve gone through changes that other boys my age could only marvel at.

I’ve never wanted to change, but to better suit the people around me- I’ve had to.

It seems cruel. You spend so much of your life trying to please people, and then it’s all turned around and you end up changing who you are to please others.

My hands, the same, but much different.

My words? Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m the one saying them. They seem so odd to me, like ill-fitting teeth.

I don’t know how to fix it, really. People tell me to fight, but I never wanted that. I just wanted to be left alone.

That’s all I still want.

I never wanted to fight, not for me, not for the city, not for anyone. I just wanted to be a normal kid, going to school, cheating on tests, pranking teachers with whoopee cushions and stink bombs, changing the speakers to play “The Macarena” for the recess bells. Competing in gymnastics tournaments, going ice skating at Christmas, studying for finals, going to the circus and watching the jugglers making balls fall in different patterns and acrobats fly across the stadium with every daring leap.

I think my life started to change when Dick’s parents fell those agonising feet to the hard circus floor and collapsed in a silent and unmoving pile of blood and tears and broken bones-

I could never remember which sound was worse- the crunch of their bodies as they collided with the woodwork or Dick’s bawling pleas for them to wake up.

I look down over the city, my city, and I realise that I’ve changed with it. That fast food place had never been there. Neither had that office building.  And Wayne Enterprises had never been so large or so brightly lit.

The idea that we are all meant for “something greater” is foolish. Childish, even. The card’s we are dealt are the cards we must play. Thinking you can change your hand is just wishful thinking. I can do anything I want with my metaphorical cards, except change them.

But just because I ‘can’ doesn’t mean I ‘should’.

I leap off the building I was perched on, like a bird, like a bat, and fell the 20 meters into open air so I can open my wings and glide through the streets from far above. I’m on patrol and even though deep thinking and reminiscing is encouraged in our little family, I have work to do.

Work like protecting my city. The city I only ever wanted to see from the streets and pathways with my feet firmly rooted to the ground. Only wanted to watch the heroes beat up criminals and stop crime. Only wanted to understand why they did what they did within the safety of my room and four walls.

But I found out too much, got in too deep and I had to change everything about myself in order to survive.

An alarm goes off and I land, searching for the disturbance. The Gotham city bank has its windows smashed and lights flashing. My eyepiece detects 12 armoured men, 8 armed hostiles, 4 unarmed and shovelling stacks of money into duffle bags to be loaded onto a cart then shoved in the back of a van.

An average bank robbery then. Nothing interesting.

I stand on the edge of the roof, five seconds away from dropping off and gliding to the bank to smash through a window and land on the ground.

Gunfire explodes through the air, the scent of gunpowder strong, even from here.

A flaming arrow flies through a window and screams could be heard as it burst inside. Heat and whistles on my right and a flaming woman is carrying a rowdy redhead by his shoulders. He’s shooting arrows into the building. Roy and Kori

A whistle on my left and Red Hood lands a few feet from me. “We got this covered” Came through my com and a salute is the only recognition I get as Jason jumps off the building to follow Arsenal and Starfire, guns already firing.

I can’t be bothered telling him to go in non-lethal.

I wonder when that changed?

I shrug it off, instead spinning on my heel and talking off in the other direction.

Almost double checking to make sure I the Outlaws are alright, I soar through the musky Gotham air to land on a perch far enough away that the sounds of gunshots and screaming were just a distant memory. I can’t be bothered checking to see if they can handle it. I never have. I wonder now if that’s weird. Shouldn’t I be concerned for my brother and his merry band of renegades?

No. Jason has never been the type to need people to worry about him. He would never appreciate it. He would much rather solve his problems with bullet casings and fists, only worrying about the damage done to his bloodied knuckles after the fact.

I’m on a fire escape, perched on the ladders top rung of unit 486. The sound of car alarms and sirens echo far below me, the gunshots from Jason’s position disappearing on the wind.

I can hardly see the roads below me. I wonder what it would like to fall, to leap off the building and plummet to a deep and endless slumber before I pull up at the last minute to wind whistling in my ears, leaves and grime flying up to meet me as I land safely on the dirty streets of Gotham.

Although, I have a feeling that if I were to jump, I would hear nothing but the ring of a circus song like the dreaded toll of church bells, the shocked gasping of the audience like a tidal wave of despair and the screams of my brother like an oncoming storm as he finds me in a pool of my own blood and broken bones and begs me to wake up.

I wonder how Dick can fly the way he does when everyone he loves is always falling.

I have a feeling he doesn’t do it very well.

There is always a blank hesitation behind his confident eyes when he sees one of us leap off a building too merrily, before his eyes sparkle as though the darkness had never been there in the first place when he assuredly follows us down to the rapidly approaching pavement with a bright smile plastered on his face like a galaxy of stars.

A scream echoes from an alleyway, and I let go of the ladder to fly towards it. A flash of yellow and green soars past me before I could, and I watch as the last flecks of Damian’s costume disappear behind the walls of the alley. I hear the quick hiss of blades and the glinting of swords in the darkness.

I used to worry that Damian would tarnish the name of Robin, like reddening rust ghosting over diligently polished steel. But now I know that he can use whatever he wants because Robin needed to change.

For better or for worse, I could never decide.

The screaming had stopped, replaced with hushed thank you’s and the zing of Damian’s grapple. I didn’t bother looking, didn’t bother listening for the police sirens of police cars when the GCPD finally come down. It was always funny to watch them rage over how the bat-brats had taken another catch, but I wasn’t in the mood tonight.

I just wanted this night to be over so I could fall into the dark embrace of my bed and stop thinking.

That could mean one of two things, I realise now.

It could mean falling into the warm folds of my covers, the blissful softness that my pillows allow and the peaceful silence that is an empty Wayne Manor in the much too early hours of the morning. It could mean a night of heavenly darkness and the forgotten moments between falling asleep and waking up, or the cosy afterglow of a successful night of patrol that leads to comforting dreams full of soft colours and cloud jumping like a blessing from Hypnos.

Or it could mean the agonizing screaming as my own mortality rushes up to meet me, the darkness enveloping me like a suffocating and unescapable gas that takes my breath away and turns the world chrome. It could mean falling into sleeps warm embrace, only to have my doom reach me and to never wake up again, or to have everything that makes me who I am ripped away like paper in a shredder until I literally do stop thinking and my body dissolves into the ether.

The concrete floor looks in inviting, like a spring-loaded pad for a gymnastics trick.

Looking around, I realise that everything I can see is… momentary? The buildings, the statues, the cars, the roads, the homes, the families- all temporary.

Nothing ever seems to stay the same. Thinks are always changing. Always decaying.

Everything is temporary.

My life is temporary.

I’m temporary.

I’m flying before I know it, sailing through the dark skies. Maybe I’ll see Bruce on patrol. Maybe Alfred convinced him to stay in. Maybe Dick took on the cowl and became the Dark Knight for the midnight hours.

No, I see his bright blues flipping around and showing off to the stars. I can help but laugh as I hear his whoops of joy as he relishes the freedom he has when he is out here, in the darkness, with nobody but the cosmos and the smiling eyes of the dead watching him from their place in the sky.

I touch down on a construction site to watch him, one that hadn’t seen work in months due to Gotham’s poor weather and unsanitary conditions.

It’s Gotham. What else do you expect?

I watch Dick twist and turn until he summersaults high into the air and falls down over the edge of a roof, the manic giggling of an over-excitable child echoing through the street. At least he enjoys these late nights. At least he’s ok.

My com beeps, and a message quietly comes through. It’s Bruce.

“Quiet night tonight.” Same tired, gravelly voice. At least that hasn’t changed. “Come back in half an hour and maybe you can get an extra hours sleep tonight.”

“Affirmative.”

“Okie Dokie!”

“Of course, Father.”

“We clocked out ages ago. Night B.”

“I’m just doing some late night jumps. I’ll be home soon. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Yes, sir. Steph, who say ‘okie dokie’ ever?”

“I do, Cass! It’s funny. Make fun of Harper! Who the hell says ‘affirmative”?

“Shut it blondie, a superior came into work today and I had to say that about 50 times. I’m stuck in the mode.”

“Sure Harpo, if that’s what you’re telling people.”

“I swear to god Steph don’t make me zap you- “

“Girls! That’s enough.”

The same routine. Out of all the things in my life that are changing, I hope this isn’t one of them. I hope this is the one, everlasting constant.

I don’t need to reply. They know I’m here, know that I’m too tired to care and too tired to speak. I can only think. Sometimes, I feel like my own thoughts are my own undoing.

My “Kryptonite” as Kon would say. He would laugh. I’d just roll my eyes and silently agree.

My life is an hourglass. Constantly turning and turning, grains falling towards the end, only to be swept up and turned around to start again in a continuous pattern of pain and fear and suffering as my grains of sand reached the very last turn.

It is a blinking star. In one cosmic moment, I will be blown out like a candle wick by the universe and have everything end around me like the snuffing of a flame as the world ends to a gruesome and non-existent chalk.

It is an ocean. Waves come in to rip away any fleeting moment that might bring any sort of light, any happiness and just drags it back out to drown in the murky depths and transform into a nightmare of despair and overpowering fear.

It is a storm. Clouds draw me in with the enticing of sweet melodies and sunshine, warping into a dark and painful scream as I try to claw my way through the sickly sweet explosions of both distress and melancholy as the eye swallows me whole.

My life is the blink of an eye.

Soon, it will be 2050 and I’ll still be the same person and I don’t know if I’ll be happy then or if I’ll just be the same as I always have been.

Full of highs and lows.

But my life isn’t all bad.

Of course, it’s mostly full of lows, lows so deep that sometimes I can never see myself crawling out. But where the lows are bleak and deadly, there are always highs that float me back towards the light.

My life is a fireplace. Flames that lick and burn, I am the warm and deadly encounter when you get too close, comforting and secure in the way I glow. I am the heat that radiates off of wooden logs and crackles in your ears like a softly spoken melody.

It is a cup of coffee. An exponentially warm porcelain that you hold in your hand and keeps you company on cold nights alone in the dark or mornings where your only company is the rising sun. I am the steam that rises up to fog your glasses, obscuring your sight of what you don’t want to see.

It is a stream. A babbling brook, flowing in a constant and reassuring pattern from the beginning to the end, gentle and soft in the roaring of the soft lapping waves as you dip your feet into the water and the cool and calming nature runs between your toes.

It is a book. Different with every page you turn, yet more and more of the same. I am the gasping amazement and the soft tears that blur the words as you turn faster and faster to get to the end and find out why you picked up the book in the first place.

I’m tired, but I don’t care. I want to stay with my city the little while longer.

My city, more earth than air. Soil and trees reaching up to the clouds and snow peaked mountains and mist in your lungs. It’s tangible.

All my life, I had thought that when I die, I will go somewhere like this. Somewhere tangible. But what if there is no afterlife? What if I don’t go anywhere? What if I just… stop?

I try not to think like that, but sometimes doubt creeps up on me.

My com beeps, and I don’t even need to answer to know it’s Dick. “Hey Timmy,” he yawned, fondness dripping through his voice like warm honey, “Why don’t you come home now?”

“Give me 5.”

“Sure. I’ll leave your window open. See you when you get home Tim.”

The city expanded out before me, and I free fell off the scaffolding until I am at a distance to the floor so I can open my wings, wind whipping through my hair and whistling through my ears like the Pied Piper.

The streets are empty. Shutters are closed and lights are off in homes. A baby cries every now and again, and a parent’s grumble is the only reply as they get out of their warm and cosy bed to tend to their bundle of joy.

These people, the ones behind the closed shutters and darkened rooms are the ones I fight for. The reason I stick around and fight.

Death has never been something I have wanted, but it is all around me. It follows me like an inky mist that will one-day swallow me whole and reunite me with those I have lost. Even though death is such a common thing, I still want to save others from that fate.

I still want to fight for my right to live. I still want to fight for the life I deserve. I still want to fight for my family, for the ones I love.

I still want to fight to keep my head above the water.

It's been a slow night for me. I think I might head home.

The lights of the Manor were on when I get there, illuminating the house like a beacon. A beacon of hope in the dark night. How ironic.

Sliding in through my bedroom window, I could smell Alfred’s hot chocolate from the kitchen.

If I didn’t have any reason for me to exist before, there is no way I’m missing out of a cup of Alfie’s hot chocolate.

I can hear Dick laughing, the keys on the piano playing a soft melody through the marbled foyers. The chandelier is working again, light spilling in through the gap beneath my door. Harper must have fixed it. Clapping and feet stomping on the floor and Damian’s strangled but laughed protests give way that the girls are trying to get Damian to dance. Fat chance.

A tentative knock on my door and some shuffling bring me out of my reverie. “Hey Tim, you in there?” It’s Cullen. Harper must have brought him on her way home. “I think I heard you come in. If you are, I was just asking if you wanted to come down and join us? Alfred is making hot chocolate and Dick convinced Bruce to play the piano. It’s really fun.” A pause “If you’re not there, I suppose I’m just talking to myself, huh?” Silence and retreating footsteps. He’s a good kid.

I’d better go and join them.

Life is only a temporary thing in the great span of the universe. Once the Grim Reaper comes to welcome me, I will greet death as the old friend that it is. But until then, the world still needs a little bit more Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.

And I will still be here to give the world what it needs. I never wanted to change. But after a night of reflection?

I’m glad I have.

Because I’m nothing if not a Bat. And Bats?

Bats never give up

Hi! So, this is a gift to @identityconstellations , who was feeling a little down and existential, so I thought I would write this to cheer her up. If Tim turned out suicidal, that was not the intention, so I apologise. I love you Stell x I used her words from a conversation we had and tried to incorporate it. This is also the first time I’ve ever written a 1st-person perspective fic, and I have to say that I’m actually really proud. I know it’s shit, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. (Thanks to @zinziinziiin and @the-casual-cheesecake for attempting to edit this monstrosity. I know I fucked it up and ruined Tim, but I hope I fixed it somewhat) Bye!