#just give me Dick and Babs i’m begging. on my knees. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

YIGA HUSBANDS PETPLAY WITH SOOGA WEARING A COLLAR AND LEASH-

Ya’ll just love seeing Sooga be an absolute slut, don’t ya? Aight, let’s fucking go.

Sooga wasn’t used to his new life just yet. He knew he was more important to Kohga, vs some of the other’s, but lately he started noticing changes in his life. Like not only was Sooga allowed to bathe with Kohga, not only was he allowed to help him put up his hair (it made him the envy of the clan), but he was allowed to sleep in his bed. Kohga had just gotten back from a meeting with Urbosa, and right when they got back to base, Kohga wanted to nap. Not in his usual napping spot (sometimes Kohga liked to sleep outside, mainly for the sun), but in his own bed, in his own room. And not by himself, but with Sooga. It was how Sooga ended up here, with Kohga resting right next to him. Sooga had been unable to sleep, but he didn’t mind. Watching Kohga sleep was a sight to behold, but this close? It made his heart flutter.

“You...will never know how I truly look at you. How I feel whenever you touch me.”

It was more or less something he was saying in awe. The same way you’d gasp upon seeing a building, or the same way you’d stare at a setting sun. Kohga really was beauty incarnate. Sooga allowed himself to be just a bit inappropriate, holding onto one of his Master’s hands. He looked it over in his own, and sighed dreamily. Kohga’s hands were soft, nimble, everything he had hoped they would be. Kohga was everything he wanted. A sweet, kind man, bubbling with confidence and a ‘go get it’ attitude. A man that made him smile, a man that made Sooga want to give his life for. Sooga looked over his sleeping Master, and softly chuckled. Kohga was just as beautiful on the outside. Nice, soft hair, a gorgeous, plump belly, and of course-

“Mmm...move over Sooga…”

Sooga pushed back a bit for Kohga to no longer face him, but press up against his chest. Sooga smiled under his mask, wrapping his arms around Kohga. Kohga was so soft, so warm. Like a big, loveable stuffed animal. He smelled nice, even, of bananas and mighty thistles. It was a smooth, rich smell. So much so that Sooga couldn’t help but bury his face in the other’s neck. Kohga was still out of it, but he was just awake enough to reach over, and gently rub at Sooga’s ear. The material between them was thin, so intimate touches still held their effect, more or less. Which Sooga was glad for. His touch as slow, firm, affectionate. Sooga nearly purred as Kohga’s fingers lazily rubbed and tugged at his earlobe. And if there was one thing Sooga liked, it was slow, firm. Kohga sighed, as if exhausted, before seeming to wake up, and turned to look at Sooga.

“God you’re SUCH a whore, Sooga.”

Sooga blinked. Those words snapped him out of his daydream, and he had no clue what prompted this. That is, until he looked down. Somehow, with just some tender physical affection, Sooga was half hard, pressing himself against Kohga, all without realizing it. Sooga cleared his throat, before keeping his legs shut. He wasn’t afraid to admit he was attracted to men, but he was afraid of just HOW much he was. He found men to be just beautiful, fascinating. And Kohga? Kohga was the prime example of that fascination. It made sense that his body reacted accordingly, but this still did not mean he was entitled to be some pervert.

“I apologize, Master Kohga. The mind wanders. I could go see myself out if you-”

“No no. You stay right there. You keep trying to get away from me, Sooga.”

Apparently a good nap was enough to make Kohga a little frisky, given the way he seemed to dip his hand in between his legs, and grab a fistful of his junk. Sooga stiffened (in both ways), a bit surprised. Kohga’s lewdness never ceased to amaze him, but he was flattered nonetheless. Sooga, upon a little prompting, opened his legs for Kohga, letting him slowly yet firmly palm at his ever present boner. Sooga chuckled, a bit uneasy at how this turned from cuddling, to rather frisky petting.

“I didn’t think you’d...want me to wake you up. You looked so restful, I was just going to let you nap.”

“How thoughtful of you, big guy. That’s what I like about you.”

Kohga chuckled, peeling his hand away from his crotch, and lightly strum his fingers up Sooga’s chest, right till he lightly flicked at his mask.

“And that’s EXACTLY why I got you a little present.”

“You...got me something?”

Sooga felt a warmth in his heart, and his loins. Even if the gift was perverted, it was the fact that it was from Master Kohga, that meant so much to him. Kohga grinned, and got off the bed, digging into his pile of stuff. Kohga had VERY few flaws, but one of them was the fact that he wasn’t very tidy. It took him a minute to finally find it, but when he did, he brought it over. A wrapped box, with the classic yiga charm on its front. Kohga offered it to him, and Sooga sat up, accepting it. Kohga was nearly bouncing in place, clearly excited.

“Go on! Open it, open it! I’ve been waiting for you to see it!”

Sooga un did the bow keeping it together, before he removed the lid from the box. Inside was a long black leash, and a black, studded collar, complete with a little bell, and a tag. Sooga inspected it, and saw that on one side, it read ‘Kohga’s good boy’, and on the other, it read ‘Sooga’. Kohga gave a light clap of his hands, turning over the collar, as if he was showing it off.

“It’s nice, right?! I even got it with this soft padding on the inside, so it won’t bruise your throat, even If I leave it over night-are you okay?”

Sooga suddenly found himself rather overwhelmed. He found himself covering his mouth, and his other hand hugging his frame. Kohga looking genuinely worried honestly only made it worse. Sooga took a minute to breathe, before nodding.

“I’m fine, s-sorry. I just, am honestly quite touched, Master Kohga. You honor me.”

“Sooga it’s a sex collar, you act like I got you a wedding wing.”

Kohga sighed, before grabbing a hold of Sooga’s chin.

“It’s so cute how easy you are to fluster, Sooga. You wanna take a breather, or you just wanna be a big bab-”

“No. Please. I would VERY much like to continue. I want to earn my title.”

Kohga was so kind to him. So generous and sweet. He wanted to make him feel good, or feel good FOR him-whatever he wanted. Kohga chuckled, making Sooga lift his head up, and carefully strapped the collar to his throat. Kohga was careful, clearly wanting to make sure it was nice and snug. Kohga pulled away after he finished tightening the last strap.

“Too tight?”

“It’s perfect, Master Kohga. Much like you.”

“Flattery gets you everywhere, Sooga.”

The tone in his Master’s voice, the snugness of the collar, even the ‘click’ sound of him clipping on the leather leash, made every hair on his body stand on end. Kohga wrapped the handle around his wrist, making sure he had a good grip, before giving it a bit of a tug.

“Hands and knees. Come to me.”

Sooga obeyed without hesitation. He moved himself along the wooden floors like a dog, right until he stopped in front of his Master. Kohga gave him a light pat on his cheek.

“Good boy. You ready for your treat now?”

“You’re quite giving today, Master Kohga.”

“Eh, you’re cute, kinda can’t help myself.”

Kohga freed his cock from his clothing confines, and Sooga didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed his mask up, just a bit, and pushed it past his lips, slowly pushing his head back and forth, groaning as he suckled on his thick gerth. He stopped only for a moment as Kohga gave a firm tug at his leash. It tightened around his neck, making him feel choked for just a moment. They weren’t as good as Kohga’s hands, but he still appreciated that wonderful sensation.

“More teeth, Sooga. And grope yourself during, I want you nice and hard for me.”

Sooga did as he was told. He palmed and groped firmly at his own bulge, lightly squeezing both his dick, and his balls. All while he sloppily slurped and groaned around his Master’s thickness. Sooga’s mind drifted off, enjoying the feel of his mouth being so full, the feel of Kohga’s gaze falling so heavily on him. It was as if he was going through some kind of test, and Sooga was more than willing to prove himself. However, just when he tasted those yummy beads of precum, Kohga yanked him away, making him whine pitifully. Kohga fondled his hair for a moment, almost affectionately.

“You’ve been SO good, Sooga. You know what this means?”

“I...I get to continue?”

“It means you get another treat. On the bed, all fours, facing the wall. Chop chop!”

Kohga guided him to the bed, making him crawl the entire way. Sooga had no idea it was difficult to walk with such a throbbing pain, but he would not disappoint his Master. Kohga grabbed a fistful of his ass, and Sooga’s surprised yelp made him chuckle.

“You are JUMPY. You have no idea what’s going on, and that makes you so tense. Easy, relax those big, tense muscles of yours.”

Sooga couldn’t help but melt as Kohga’s free hand wandered his frame. Up his arms, down his back, alongside his thighs. It was as if he was being inspected and judged, like some prized pooch. And Sooga adored it. Kohga dug into one of his drawers, before grabbing what looked to be some kind of bottle, before making his way back to the bed. Sooga felt his mouth get sticky, before he finally found his voice.

“M-Master Kohga, I hate to speak out of turn, but may I inquire what’s exactly are we-”

Suddenly his bottom part of his uniform was off, revealing his bare ass. Sooga’s fingers gripped on the sheets, and he felt Kohga grab a big, firm fistful of one of his cheeks.

“Here’s the deal. You can moan, you can whimper, you can beg, and you can tell me how good it feels. Otherwise, you can zip those pretty lips, and let me play with you.”

Sooga opened his mouth to respond, before falling silent. If Kohga requested his silence, then silence he shall have. Kohga proceeded to pour what he assumed was oil, right on Sooga’s ass. Sooga nearly flopped on the bed, feeling it’s warmth, before he suddenly felt Kohga give him a good, nice tug on his leash.

“Ah ah ah. Ass stays there. You’re a big boy, you can keep yourself up. Try that shit again.”

Oh did that send a shudder up poor Sooga’s spine. The domination of his voice, his firm, challenging tone. Sooga nodded quickly, thankful he had enough arm strength to keep himself upright. Kohga’s hand roamed across his oiled ass, firmly and skillfully, and Sooga could tell his cheeks were on fire. Thankfully he could keep his mask on, Master Kohga didn’t deserve to see his face so flushed. Kohga then used two fingers, and carefully slid them between his asscheeks. He tempted his virgin hole with his oiled, trained fingers, making Sooga tremble every time he thought they would enter him.

“M-master Kohga, please!”

“What? What is it, my pretty boy? You wanna feel my fingers in your ass? Is that it? Say it.”

Sooga mentally swore. The things Kohga made him say, JUST to make him feel good. He swallowed, now noticing just how much he had been drooling.

“I...please, Master Kohga. I’d love to feel you inside of me, just for a moment.”

That was when Kohga finally decided to let him have it. His slick fingers dipped inside of him, slowly pushing them in and out. Sooga never knew a man this intimately, and Kohga was treating him accordingly; delicately and carefully. It helped that his throbbing cock and his tightened collar made his mind foggy during. It was almost relaxing in a way. That is, until Kohga’s fingers suddenly hit something. Hit something that made him nearly jump out of the damn bed. Hell, Kohga had to keep the leashed hand on his back. After making sure he stayed still, Kohga laughed.

“Wow, NO ONES touched you there before, have they?”

“W-what was-”

“It’s what I was looking for. That perfect sweet spot.”

Sooga buried his face in his hands as Kohga’s fingers started to slowly toy with that spot. It made his frame shake, it made his balls ache, even made his toes curl. Then Kohga decided to torture him. His fingers pumped into him, going against just that spot, making Sooga just absolutely weak. He was whining, whimpering, and pleading for Kohga to keep going, faster and faster. He knew he was drooling, knew he was dribbling precum all over Master Kohga’s sheets. But he couldnt help it. No one had touched him before, let alone someone of Master Kohga’s status. Kohga chuckled,

“Aw, no one’s touched you like this before. Look at you, completely losing it. All because I have my fingers right up against that sweet, sweet little spot. I can’t imagine what it’d gonna be like when I first get my cock all up in there-”

“Can it be now? Please?”

Kohga halted. He clearly wasn’t expecting it, and neither was Sooga, but it was too late for him to stop.

“Please, please, please! Master Kohga, I’ve w-wanted nothing more than to be yours! Please, I’ll do anything! I’ll give you my heart on a platter! Just PLEASE be inside of me, just once!”

Sooga always pictured the naughty things they’d do. The blowjobs, the dry humping- but none of that held a candle to what he ultimately wanted. For Kohga to be inside of him. To feel Kohga’s thick cock stretch his ass, to feel his head bump into his prostate, to feel his cum burrow itself deep inside of him. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was lust. But either way, Kohga finally gave him what he wanted, and pushed his pe cum covered cock right into his ass. Next thing he knew, Kohga’s hips were slamming against his, and his cock was slamming right against his poor, vulnerable prostate. Kohga leaned over him, pushing the lubed fingers right into Sooga’s drooling panting mouth. Kohga’s breath was husky in his ear, and it somehow only made Sooga fall even more in love with him.

“You’re SUCH a whore, Sooga. Whenever I wanna fuck you, you just let me. I stuff my cock in your mouth, you wanna drink my cum. I shove my fingers in your ass, you wanna feel my dick. How’s it feel, huh? Knowing you’re SO hungry for my cock? What if the clan knew? What if everyone knew you liked getting FUCKED by me? What if everyone knew you were such a dirty, dirty boy, Sooga?”

Sooga’s ass was getting destroyed, but he didn’t care. Didn’t care that his ass was getting stretched by his thickness, didn’t care that he was crying out like he was being attacked. All he cared about, was the throbbing cock inside of him, of the smaller man on his beck, making him suckle his fingers like a good, good boy. Then Kohga yanked on the leash as hard as he could, before muttering those three magic words.

“I love you.”

And that was enough. WIth a pathetic whine, Sooga came, leaving a puddle of cum right underneath him. It felt good, not just cumming, but Kohga watching him do so. This was a sight for Kohga, and for Kohga alone.

“Good boy, my handsome little Sooga. Now, on your back for me, mouth wide open.”

Kohga pulled himself out of him, and despite the aches in Sooga’s body, he obeyed, turning around and getting on his back. Kohga sat himself right on his chest, and pumped his cock right in front of Sooga. His hand always pumped himself so quickly, so assertively, it was fascinating for Sooga to watch. But what was even better, was watching him cum. The way he grumbled, the way it spread across his chest. Sooga even held his tits together, wanting to capture all of it. It ended up on his tits, on his mask, and some even made his way to his mouth. He waited until Kohga was completely finished, before swallowing. Not just what ended up in his mouth, but what was on his chest, what ended up on his fingers; there wasn’t a bit of cum that he didn’t eagerly lick up. He was forced to stop after a moment, Kohga giving his leash a good, hard yank, and DAMN did it feel good.

“You’re an EAGER pup, Sooga. It’s what I love about you. You sated now?”

“Master Kohga, that implies I’ve had enough of you. That’s impossible-!”

Yet another tug, forcing Sooga into blissful silence. Kohga leaned his face down, till his mask clunked against his.

“Keep sweet talkin’ me, big boy, I might just let you take the reins. Just once.”

Sooga’s heart fluttered. He was a lovesick fool, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#asks #lemon #kohga #sooga #finally gets it up the ass #like he deserves

20 notes · View notes

what-if-i-imagine · 4 years

Text

Stay Alive

Based on this animatic.

Ao3

It was snowing outside as Bruce ran up from the batcave, still half in costume.

“What a cliche,” he could almost hear Jason say as he ran up the stairs, his toes barely landing on every other step. “At least it’s not raining.”

“You like the rain,” he would have said in return.

“Only when I’m reading. It’s a bit much when I’m bleeding out.”

Jason was bleeding out. He was bleeding out, and had third degree burns and broken bones littering his body. A collapsed lung and an extreme concussion too from what Bruce had been able to see before Clark arrived and flew the boy back to Gotham. Bruce couldn’t stop the images from flooding his mind for the hundredth time since the events of earlier that day transpired. For the hundredth time he was holding his son’s broken body, waiting on Superman to arrive and save what he had lost.

Alfred was waiting for him at the top of the stairs by the time he reached them, removing his bloodied medical gloves.

“Where is my son?” Bruce demanded, trying to get past his Butler but being stopped by a firm hand. Bruce’s eyes drifted past to the cart filled with bloodied medical supplies, the sight making him light headed.

“Master Wayne, Mr. Kent brought him in an hour ago. He lost a great amount of blood on the way-”

“Is he alive?” Bruce interrupted, the panic becoming too much to stay inside. Everything he held in fell molten hot from his eyes.

Alfred sighed and gripped his shoulders, “He is, but you have to understand. His heart was not beating when they arrived. I was barely able to bring him back-”

“Can I see him, please?” Bruce interrupted once again.

“Just this way,” Alfred led him through the hallway, his ever calm persona cracking to show his own worry. Before he opened the door, he turned back to Bruce, “I am doing everything I can, but I don’t know how much longer he has.”

The door opened and the air filled with the heavy metallic scent of blood and it’s acidic partner of disinfectant. Bruce rushed to the bed, the shaking in his bones worsening the moment he saw his son.

“Jason,” he barely breathed the name as he reached out.

“B,” Jason smiled as if he didn’t have painful tears running down his face to match Bruce’s own. He leaned into his touch and for a second Bruce’s heart wished to forget death standing at the window and try to ground him with the ever adoring glint in his son’s eyes.

“I did it just like you said,” Jason said, closing his eyes. “I held my head up high. I stared that clown down even when we got to ten.”

Bruce pressed his fists and head into the mattress to try and ground himself again. Quickly he looked back up and shook his head, a sob building in his throat, as he wiped Jason’s tear, smearing them with the drying blood, “I know, baby, you did everything just right.”

“I stared him down and I covered her-”

“Shh, I know,” Bruce was almost begging, torn between longing for his son’s voice and wishing for him to rest.

“Dad,” Jason sobbed out, the smile slipping into the fear he rarely let show. Bruce came undone and pressed their foreheads together, holding Jason in his arms for what might be the last time.

“Shh, save your strength,” Bruce hushed him, kissing his head through the pain.

The scream that came from the doorway dug the knife deeper into his chest, pulling him out of the embrace. He turned just in time for the second scream, this one calling out Jason’s name. Barbara and Dick stood in the doorway, out of breath from the same run Bruce had made up the stairs. Barbara’s face twisted in horror, her shaking hand raised to clasp over her mouth, and Dick’s eyes were that of a freshly broken man.

“Dick, Barb,” Bruce stood to meet them.

Barbara pushed right past him, falling to her knees where he had been. Jason closed his eyes again at the contact of her hands cupping his face.

“Is he going to survive this?” Barabara asked, almost begged over her shoulder.

Dick burst into actition from her words, surging forward to grab Bruce by the collar of his suit. He sometimes forgot just how strong Dick had gotten over the years until his fits of rage like the one they were going through now.

“Who did this?” Dick demanded through his tears. Before Bruce could answer, Dick yelled, “Did you know?”

“Dick-”

“Answer the damn question Bruce! Did you know she would do this?” Bruce could hear Barabara shouting for Dick to stop behind them and Alfred telling them this wasn’t what Jason needed, but it was drowned out by the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

“I didn’t know,” Bruce managed to get past his lips.

“Bull shit!” Dick cried, his grip tightening the way it did before he threw a punch. No hit came though, as a small voice interrupted the exchange.

“Babs? Dick?” the small voice called, so much more broken than it had been just moments before.

Dick let Bruce go in an instant and joined Barbara, one of his hands overlapping hers to fully ingulf Jason’s hand and the other finding his brother’s hair.

“Little Wing,” Dick whispered the same time Barabara said, “Baby Bird.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jason whimpered, chasing both of their touches as his chest wracked with sobs of breath. “You taught me how to- I should have been able to defuse it.”

“Little wing stop,” Dick shook his head.

“I forgot so much,” Jason pushed on despite his brother’s plea and his straining voice. “You taught me so much and I forgot. You taught me violin…”

“When his voice started to trail off, Barabara squeezed his hand, “You hated playing by the rules. You could never sit still.”

“You would put your hands on mine,” Jason reached out his free hand as if to prepare a fingering on an invisible violin. Dick caught the hand as it fell back down under its own dead weight and pressed his lips to it.

“You changed the melody every time,” Dick said against his hand.

“I would always change the line,” Jason said, his voice giving out at the end of the sentence. Dick gently laid his hand back down onto the mattress and kissed his head next to where Bruce had.

Bruce covered his mouth to not cry harder as he stared at his three children. Frames of Jason’s days in the manor flashed through his head, drowning out the frames of his bloodied body.

Jason standing on a stool because he refused to sit as he played while Dick stood behind him, hand on hand to show the proper fingerings and posture, Barabra in front of them explaining pieces of the music.

Jason in the kitchen with Alfred, dutifully learning all of the recipes the Butler kept so close to his chest.

Jason hanging off his back, arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his torso while they listened to Commissioner Gordon after a long night’s work.

Jason curled in this very same bed as Bruce read his favorite classical novel as a bedtime story,

Back in reality, Barabara begged Jason to save his strength. Dick begged him to stay with them. Jaosn, as stubborn as ever, refused to listen to either, his voice going on no matter how weak and tired it became.

“I’m not afraid,” he promised, eyes going in and out of focus.

Bruce carefully climbed up onto the bed and gently lifted Jason up so that he was laying in Bruce’s lap without Barabara or Dick breaking their contact with him. Alfred sat at the foot of the bed, now openly crying with them as he rested his hand on Jason’s ankle.

“I’m not afraid,” Jaosn repeated, gentler this time. “Not with you here. Is that bad?”

“Not at all baby,” Bruce promised, lips pressed to his hair.

“We don’t want you to be afraid,” Barabara said.

“I won’t be afraid then,” Jason decided with the biggest smile his strength, or lack thereof, would allow. “I’m so tired though.”

“Master Jason, you must try and stay awake,” Alfred said, his voice steady despite the emotion written all over his face. There was a defeated slump to his shoulders that Bruce had never seen before, even after his parents’ deaths.

“Alfie, thank you,” Jason whispered, closing his eyes. Alfred had to turn away and cover his eyes with his freehand.

“Babs, don’t let Dad or Dickie do anything dumb when I’m gone,” Jason continued.

“You can make sure they don’t, because you are staying right here,” Barabara heaved, squeezing his hand. “Do you hear me Jason? I am giving you a direct order to stay with us.”

“I’ve never been good at following orders,” Jason hummed. His body became heavier on top of Bruce, each muscle releasing one by one instead of all at once as he tried to hold on.

“Jason, please,” Dick’s voice shook. His head fell onto his shoulder where his hand had been before, said hand now gripping the bed sheets tight enough to tear them.

“It’s so hard holding on. It hurts so much,” Jason let out a pitiful sob. “I want to let go before I get scared again.”

“Then let go,” Bruce said. Both Barabara and Dick looked up at him in betrayal, but his focus was solely on the weight on top of him.

“You need me,” Jason tried to shake his head but winced at the attempt.

“We do,” Bruce nodded, letting himself cry into his hair. “But if you need to let go, then let go baby. We will be okay.”

“I love you.”

“We love you too,” Bruce said.

With Bruce’s words, the boy went completely still and all of his muscles relaxed until all his weight had fallen onto Bruce.

There was no telling how long they stayed in the room. No telling who was the first to move.

They left the body in the bedroom for that night. It felt wrong to move it right away, but Alfred convinced them all to still sleep in their own beds.

Little did they know that in the dead of night, one of Talia al Ghul’s men lurked outside the window, waiting for them all to be asleep to make his move...

#jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #barbara gordon #happy april 27th #willow writes

39 notes · View notes

goldkirk · 5 years

Text

Blackbird, a Tim Drake/Batfam fic

Chapter 12: I had to learn to be the hero, I started over here from zero

Content Warning: Vomiting in the first scene. Self harm/cutting mentions, non-graphic description but mentions of cuts and the treatment of them. Needles/vaccine/injection mention in the paragraph where Steph hums along to a Lizzo song, but it's only a mention, no description.

Barbara Gordon comes home to Gotham the next day, tossing the mantle of Oracle aside once more to be Batgirl again for what remains of July and August before she goes back to school.

“I am,” she groans, leaning over to drop her head onto Dick’s shoulder across the gap as she settles into a middle seat of Bruce’s minivan, “so tired. And never teaching Comp Sci 101 as a summer course again. I don’t care how much Dr. Holland begs. I don’t care how many free lunches they give me. It’s bad enough as a 16-week course. I don’t ever want to teach an 8-week night class again for as long as I live. Being a TA doesn’t pay enough to make that hell worth it.”

“But you did it,” Dick says, dropping a light kiss on her wild hair.

“I did,” Babs concedes. “And I did a damn good job of it, whatever Dean McGrouchyPants has to say about my methods. I dragged those kids through kicking and screaming, but they can write code better than most of the junior class at this point. Which benefits me in the long run, since I’m going to be the department’s indentured servant and overflow grader for probably the next million years, based on how slowly my thesis work is going.”

“That’s our girl,” Bruce says proudly, as he adjusts the rear-view mirror slightly so he can still see all the kids. “Everybody buckled?”

“Yes,” Tim choruses along with the others. He’s trying hard not to constantly fidget in his seat from excitement.

Jason may love him, but they’re both crammed in the backseat with Cass, and Nova and Peanut are taking up most of the floor area, so space is at a premium and Tim isn’t about to push the edges of his brother’s patience. Even the ever-calm Ace is starting to look a little strained where he lies wedged between the two middle seats.

“Bruce,” Jason says, echoing Tim’s thoughts. “No offense? But I think you might need to get a bigger minivan. Like, soon.”

“Well,” Bruce says slowly as he pulls away from the curb. “You’re going off to college, aren’t you, all grown up and everything? It’s not like you’re going to need a seat for much longer. Wave to Gordon, kids.”

Tim’s heart does a strange little flip for a moment. They all wave to the Commissioner through the windows as he disappears behind them, and the van makes its turn onto the freeway.

“B,” Jason whines. “I’m not leaving forever! And I’ll be home during breaks. You can’t just write me out of this family. I have rights.”

Tim smiles at the exchange, but grips his camera case a bit more tightly than necessary. Cass looks down at his hands and presses her shoulder into his, and he doesn’t know what she’s trying to say, exactly. But it sort of helps. He can hear his mother’s voice in his head, reprimanding him on the first day of kindergarten that you’re a big boy now, Tim, you can take the bus and you’ll be just fine. There’s nothing to cry about, silly, you’re just growing up. You’ll be fine. Daddy and I have to leave. Come on, you have to let go, you can’t ride with us, we’re going to the airport. You have your own life here, now, and you’re a big boy. You get to ride the bus with Sonia.

Janet dropping a warm kiss on his forehead as she squeezes him in a long, tight hug, then patting him firmly, encouragingly, on the back. Go on now. The weight of his too-long Batman backpack, barely filled up with just a notebook, crayons, and his lunchbox, bumping gently into the backs of his knees with every step Tim takes towards the nanny of that school year. Reaching up and taking her hand while all he wants is to hold his parents. He doesn’t want to be a big boy. He’s tired of it, he wants to be little again, and have his mom and dad home. When he looks back, his parents are already in the car, shutting the doors. And that’s it.

He shakes his head a few times, scratching one nail back and forth on the woven material of his camera strap over and over, and focuses on the feel of that in order to keep the memory from drowning him. He tunes back into the conversation, ignoring the way Cass is still watching him through the curtain of her dark hair that’s falling out from where she tucks it behind her ear.

“Of course I can’t write you out of the family,” Bruce says calmly. “You’re my son. You can’t get out of this if you try. I’m not letting you go.”

“Lord knows that’s true,” Alfred adds from the passenger seat while he furiously knits away at either a very small sweater or a very large scarf. “I thought I’d serve the Wayne family for a few years while I got back on my feet, and now here I am with a son, four grandchildren, and more animals than I can shake a stick at. And I’ve learned to make a rather mean peach cobbler, if I do say so myself. I’ve been domesticated.”

“Alfred,” Bruce chuckles. “You’re the most domesticated human being I’ve ever met.”

“Pretty sure Bruce has never seen Alfred in one of his stress-cleaning sessions,” Jason mutters, only just loud enough for Cass and Tim to hear. “Seeing as he’s, you know, usually the cause of them.”

Alfred sniffs. “You’ve only known me since I moved to America, my boy. You know the stories I’ve told you about my days in Her Majesty’s service. I have not made them a secret to you.”

“No,” says Bruce. “But imagining you as a—a spy? And an actor? I can see it, but it’s—you’re Alfred . I can hardly imagine this life without you in it as the family rock. I don’t think I really want to.”

“My dear boy,” Alfred says. “You galavant around our city in an animal costume every night and adopt every orphan who drops unceremoniously into your lap, all while running the company you swore as a teenage boy you hated and would never take on.”

Bruce grumbles back at him, shoulders hunching a bit. “Nineteen years ago I was a card-carrying punk rock kid about to embark on a literal world tour of the underworld, trying to stumble upon my own karate kid moment. Now I’m a respectable CEO with a healthy appreciation for masala chai. I have an interview with Esquire next month about what life is like as the internet’s favorite ‘DILF’ father, which I deeply wish I didn’t understand. People change.”

Dick makes a sort of choking noise somewhere in the back of his throat, while Babs claps a hand over her mouth and Jason’s face screws up into something very red and deeply pained. Tim scrabbles to hold onto the thread of the conversation, holds onto it like a lifeline, and tries to keep his focus on what they’re heading out to do.

Come on, Tim, it’s fine, He tells himself. Everything is fine. You’re finally going to the state park, you idiot, get it together! Think about how many photos you’re gonna get to take. And all the candid shots you’re going to get. Maybe even one of Cass smelling some bright flowers against her dark hair in the sunlight or something. Or Bruce watching Dick do flips off a tree. It’s going to be great. Everything’s fine. Nova noses hard at his knee, collar jingling faintly, and Tim absentmindedly reaches down to scratch behind her ear.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

Alfred waves one hand, knitting needle drifting dangerously close to Bruce’s ear but never quite touching. “All I am trying to say is that people would hardly recognize your younger self either even if he walked beside you on the street. I don’t believe you have a leg to stand on, here.”

“Is this Alfred’s way of saying ‘Pot, kettle?’” Dick asks.

“I believe it is,” Bruce says. “All right, Alfie. Point taken. But I mean it, you know. I don’t know where I—where any of us would be without you here. I couldn’t have asked for a better father all these years.”

“Well,” Alfred says, then, his fingers stumbling to a halt with yarn still half-wrapped around the needles, and everyone in the van has been trained by the Bat. Except for the Bat, of course, who was trained, in all the ways that matter, by his Da. They all hear the hidden dampness in his tone, however well he manages to stamp it down.

“All right,” Bruce says with a grin. “I’ll lay off on the feelings talk for now. I think that must fill our annual quota, don’t you?”

“Quite so, Master Bruce,” Alfred replies, and goes back to his knitting. He stops only once to blow his nose delicately with the ever-present handkerchief from his breast pocket before getting back to it with a vengeance.

Cass raises her hand, and Bruce catches it in the mirror.

“Yes, Cass? What is it?”

Cass points with one hand at Tim beside her, and Bruce’s brows furrow as his gaze darts over. Tim ducks his head, trying to avoid eye contact, but now Jason is eyeing him too, and there’s not much Tim can do about it short of unbuckling and scrambling over the seat back to hide in the back of the minivan. And he doesn’t particularly want to get the safety lecture from Bruce, Alfred, and Dick today.

“Tim?” Bruce asks, and Dick cranes his neck around to peer into the backseat as well. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” Tim says quickly.

But Jason is looking at him and frowning. “B,” he says, low, warning.

Tim shoots Jason a glare, then turns to meet Bruce’s eyes in the rearview mirror as they flick between Tim and the road every couple seconds. Tim straightens, leaning away from Cass and opens his mouth. “I’m fi—” he starts to bite out, then loses his voice in the middle of the sentence. His eyes widen and his hand shoots up to cover his mouth on pure instinct.

“B!” snaps Jason, and Bruce is already pulling off to the shoulder of the road.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Tim says suddenly, confused and more than a little bewildered, as he fights through the rolling nausea, and then someone’s got his buckle popped open and Dick’s hands are leading him firmly out of the back and through the sliding side door. Tim would have dropped to his knees hard at the edge of the drainage ditch if Bruce hadn’t caught him and eased him down with the same careful movement that accompanies everything he did, as Batman and as their dad.

“It’s all right,” Bruce says gently. “Deep breaths.”

Tim tries, he breathes and breathes and breathes some more as his stomach clenches and flips, and then finally his airway closes off in one final choke and he’s retching up the remains of his breakfast into a thistle bush while Bruce holds him up through it all.

Tim falls back against Bruce’s chest after one final heave, panting a little, and one of Bruce’s hands moves up to wipe at his sweaty forehead with a wet wipe someone must have dug out of the console.

"Sorry,” Tim chokes out. He kind of wants to cry, and kind of wants to vanish into the dirt and never come out again.

“Shhhh,” says Bruce. His hand on Tim’s forehead pulls Tim to lay his head back further onto Bruce’s shoulder, and Tim squeezes his eyes shut while he tries to get control back over his rebelling body.

“Didn’t realize—” he starts.

“Tim.” Bruce cuts him off, thumb brushing across his temple. His arms don’t loosen, and Tim can’t help feeling secure even while he’s kind of falling apart. “It’s okay. No one is upset with you. I promise, sweetheart.”

Tim swallows. But I made a mess, he thinks. I interrupted the drive. If I could have just—

“Hey,” comes Jason’s voice, and there are knuckles rapping twice on his cheekbone. “What did Bruce-man just say, huh? No one’s mad. I can hear you yelling at yourself from here. Your brain is awfully loud.”

“Buzz off, momma bird,” Tim mumbles, without any real heat to it. He blinks his eyes open to see Jason’s grin.

“Nah,” Jason says. “Think I’ll stay here instead. I’ve put a lotta investment into you. I don’t feel like leaving you on the side of the highway to blame yourself for things that aren’t a problem just because you had to puke up some pancakes.”

“Don’t know what happened,” Tim says, sounding about as miserable as he feels. Bruce hands him a fresh wet wipe, and it feels like heaven as he wipes down his neck and mouth himself before passing it back to be thrown in the van’s trash bag. “I was fine.”

Cass hops through the side door, then, gently cradling her now-much-bigger kitten in its new little harness, and raises one eyebrow. Not, she thumbs against her chin.

Tim’s too... something, whatever, who knows, to try to figure out what she means.

Cass huffs, and gestures furiously at Jason, who blinks and tries to expand on what he figures she means.

“Uh,” Jason says. “You weren’t fine?” Cass nods. “But...you didn’t realize. Uh.” He frowns in concentration as Cass signs at him rapidfire, and Tim just keeps his eyes drifting between the two of them while he quietly tries to push his way off of Bruce and Bruce firmly holds him right where he’s at. Tim’s thoroughly embarrassed at this point and just wants to put the whole thing behind him.

Jason turns to look at Tim fully again. “She’s right. I noticed too. You looked…” he searches for the right word. “Upset? Pale?”

“Carsick?” Dick offers.

Tim shakes his head. “Don’t get carsick.”

“Scrambled eggs,” Bruce says, then. Tim frowns. He didn’t eat any eggs this morning. Some kind of understanding dawns on Jason’s face, though.

“Oh,” says Jason. “Tim. Timmers. Which part was it, when we were all talking? What upset you?”

“What? I don’t know,” Tim grumbles. “I don’t think...”

“I know I don’t know the whole Tim situation quite as well as you all do,” interrupts Babs. “But...could it have been when Bruce was like ‘guess you won’t need to ride with us anymore, huh, since you’re going off to college and a big boy now’ and Jason joked about being written out of the family, or whatever?”

Tim squeezes his eyes shut as the memory of his first day of kindergarten tries to slam back into the forefront of his mind, just for a moment, and he forces his breathing to stay even. But he can’t hide the way his muscles tensed for just a second from Bruce. Not when they’re in such close contact.

Leaving, Cass confirms above his head. Jason looks a little stricken.

“It’s not your fault, Jason,” Bruce says immediately. “Stop that.”

“But—”

“No,” Bruce says firmly, chest rumbling against Tim’s back. “These things happen. You know it’s not your fault any more than it was mine the other day when I accidentally triggered you during movie night, or today when I joked about you being too grown-up to ride in the van anymore.”

Jason sighs. “Okay, B.” He squats down and brushes some of Tim’s flyaways back from his face, and Tim grins for a second. “Sorry, Tim. At least we know another thing to avoid now.”

“No,” says Tim. He shakes his head. “To work on.”

“You don’t have to work to get rid of every single trigger in like, two years,” Jason huffs. “Damn, Timmy. Give yourself a break. You can’t rationalize your way through everything, no matter how stubborn you are.”

“That,” Bruce says lightly, “I can confirm. You feel like getting up?”

Tim nods, and allows Bruce to haul him to his feet, keeping one of his hands wrapped around Bruce’s forearm until he’s sure he’s not going to suddenly throw up again or anything.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I don’t—I don’t think that normally would have bothered me so much. I think it was just today. I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce reassures him.

“No one cares, Tim,” Jason says. “We’ve all puked on the side of the road once or twice, in or out of costume. No shame in it.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Would you like some water?” Alfred asks, then, window rolled down and Tim’s water bottle in his hand.

“Yes, please,” Tim says gratefully, and chases the last of the bad taste out of his mouth as he rinses and spits once into the thistles before chugging half the bottle in one go.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dick asks gently, as Tim is following Jason and Cass back up into the backseat.

“Absolutely not,” Tim says with an impressive amount of cheer, and although Dick exchanges an unreadable glance with Bruce, who’s about to shut the door behind them, he doesn’t push. Tim’s grateful. He makes sure to give Nova some extra rubs as he settles back into the seat, in a sort of apology for not realizing earlier what she was trying to tell him. She seems satisfied, at least, and settles back down across his boots without complaint. He’s grateful for the weight. It helps keep him here and now, in the van with his family, fifteen years old, having a belated birthday and not a little kid anymore.

But after a few more minutes of driving, the old truth settles in about how much easier it is to talk about things in a moving vehicle, and Tim finds himself opening his mouth against his own better judgement.

“I was…” he tries. Pauses. Everyone’s attention snaps to him, even if they’re kind enough not to turn around in their seats. He can tell. “Uh. I remembered my first day of kindergarten. Mom and dad left for Egypt, or something, and I wanted to ride with them. But Mom said I was, like, a big kid now, and I could take the bus with my nanny, and…” he trails off, shrugs a little helplessly. “I dunno. I’m not sure why it was suddenly such a big deal.”

“When you’re small,” Bruce says, catching Tim’s eye in the mirror for a moment before looking back at the road as he turns smoothly onto the exit ramp, “feelings are big. Just because older you can look at the situation and say that it wasn’t a big deal, since everything was fine and you were safe, it doesn’t mean the little you wasn’t afraid and upset. When you’re small, every bad thing is literally the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. Dropping your ice cream can feel like the end of the world when you were excited about getting it all day and then it suddenly falls and you can’t have it anymore.”

That makes sense, Tim admits, but. Still.

“So,” Bruce goes on, and the van starts shaking slightly as it hits gravel instead of asphalt. “Put yourself in little you’s shoes, hm? He was starting kindergarten. That’s a big deal, and a big change. It’s a new school, and lots of unfamiliar kids and grown-ups, right? And all little kids want some comfort when they’re nervous, so usually parents come with them to the first day of school so everyone’s nerves are a little soothed. You just wanted your mom and dad. You didn’t want to be alone on your first day.”

“But I had the nanny,” Tim points out. “I liked Sonia.”

“Sure,” Dick says. “But she wasn’t your parents. And were you scared?”

Tim thinks back, tries to really put himself in the moment from his younger self’s eyes this time, but keep it controlled. He feels Cass pulling his hands over to gently rest on Teacup’s soft little fur, and shoots her a quick smile as his fingers start to rub lightly.

And, yeah. Tim.

Tim was definitely scared. He’d never gone to preschool. His parents had just hired a Montessori tutor, and pushed him as hard as they could. Tim was smart. He liked the challenge. But he hadn’t really been around many kids before, and school was going to have a lot. And new teachers. And it was in a building he’d never seen before, because his parents had a business event the day they were supposed to go to the open house, and his nanny had a cold. So. Tim was definitely nervous. He didn’t feel big at all back then. He felt really small, and he wanted someone to hold him, not just his hand, and--

“Tim,” Jason says. Tim blinks a few times, and looks over. Jason reaches out a hand and his fingers are suddenly brushing across Tim’s cheek.

“What?” Tim asks.

“You’re crying bud,” Jason says softly.

“Oh,” Tim says, surprised. He reaches up, letting go of Teacup, and feels his eyes. Sure enough, they’re damp. “Huh.”

Bruce has put the car in park along the side of the state park’s gravel lot sometime in the past minute or so, and he turns around in his seat now, keys in hand, and locks eyes with Tim. “You think you’re okay to head out right now?” he asks, not the slightest bit of accusation or disappointment in his voice. Tim still feels braced for it anyway.

"I think so,” Tim answers. He unbuckles, and tugs Nova’s collar gently as he calls up.

“Because we can wait a little while if that would help,” Bruce says. “Or the others can go on ahead, and you and I can just catch up.”

“No, I’m okay,” Tim says. And he’s pretty sure he means it.

“Nature is always an excellent remedy for the soul,” Alfred says, as they all pile out through the various doors. “I dare say you’ll feel better before we even make it to the top of the ridge.”

“Come on, Dickiebird,” Jason says, clipping Peanut’s hands-free leash to his belt. Dick takes Ace’s lead and wraps it around his wrist a few times. “Race.”

Dick sighs, but doesn’t actually sound all that put out. “How far?”

“Just the trailhead,” Jason says. “Bet I beat you by two strides.”

“Bet you a Snickers you don’t,” Dick snorts.

“Babs!” Jason calls over to where Babs has already walked over to read some of the plaques by the rain garden. “Start us.”

“Three,” she yells back. “Two...one...one and a half.”

“Babs,” Jason groans.

“GO!” she yells, and the boys are off.

Tim find himself grinning as he slips Nova’s over-the-shoulder leash over his head and adjusts it to fit how he wants. He straightens his camera case around his neck, takes the offered backpack from Alfred that contains his water bottles and snacks, and pulls his camera out just in time to snap a photo of Teacup’s reaction as Cass sets him down on the faint dirt trail for the first time.

“Good catch,” Bruce says over Tim’s shoulder, as they watch Cass begin attempting to lead her wayward little cat down the walking path instead of off towards the butterfly bushes. She isn’t having all that much success, but Alfred is already on it, sweeping in to take charge.

“I can’t believe she decided to bring Teacup on a hike,” Tim laughs a little. Bruce’s free hand lands on the center of his back, and Tim doesn’t flinch away as he’s steered toward the trailhead where Jason and Dick are already bickering good-naturedly over who actually out-touched the other, and Babs is staring up at the sky as if a cloud will give her guidance over how to wrangle the two of them. Tim can almost imagine from here her lips soundlessly mouthing out Lord give me patience to not stab them with a Batarang before lunch.

“As long as I’m not the one carrying the cat for five and a half miles,” Bruce says, watching Cass fondly, “I don’t particularly care. I learned a long time ago to pick my battles, and this isn’t a hill I plan to die on.”

“Yeah,” Tim snorts. “That’s fair.”

“Are you really okay?” Bruce asks quietly.

“I’m okay,” Tim confirms. “It was just...a weird moment. I’m okay now. And thanks, for that in the car. I didn’t really think about that before.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Bruce says. “If you do want to talk about it later, or if you need a break, tell me or Alfred, all right? This is your day. You should be happy and comfortable, not stressed.”

“Thanks, Bruce.” Tim twists around and hugs Bruce for a few seconds as they stop in the middle of the narrow dirt path. “I love you a lot.”

Bruce smiles and hugs Tim back tightly for a moment. “I love you too a lot,” he says. Tim pulls away, and Bruce slings his arm back around Tim’s shoulders as they start to walk. “Come on. There’s a particularly good photo spot about a mile and a half up the trail I think you’ll like. And if we make good time, we can picnic in the big meadow for lunch and let the dogs run around for a while.”

“TIM,” comes the holler from over by the trail. Tim squints over, hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun.

“WHAT?” he yells back, ignoring Bruce’s wince.

“SUNSCREEN,” Jason hollers, and the next thing Tim knows, there’s a bottle flying at his face in a frankly beautiful overhand throw. Jason’s old baseball coach must be proud.

Bruce’s hand catches it before Tim can get his own up high enough, and he passes it off to Tim with a fond grin.

“Still mother henning you, huh?” Bruce asks, as Tim pops the cap open and starts to squirt out sunscreen lotion with a sigh.

“So much,” Tim says. He smears some of the sunscreen on his face and neck, then sticks his white-covered hand in the air as they get closer to the others, and calls out, “Happy, Momma Bird?”

“Ecstatic,” Jason shouts back dryly. “I’ll positively die of joy if you actually smear it everywhere it’s supposed to go, too, instead of forgetting your ears and back again like last time.”

“You’re a pain in my butt,” Tim grumbles under his breath, and Bruce barely holds in his laugh. Tim feels Bruce’s arm shake slightly where it rests across his shoulders.

“What was that?” Jason asks, grinning.

“I said, you’re a blessing in my life and I’m lucky to have you watching out for my pale Irish-Japanese butt,” Tim says.

“Damn straight,” says Jason, and then he reaches out and snatches the bottle from Tim’s hand. “Aw, nuts, Timmy. You already missed half your forehead, dummy. Just—let me do it, okay?”

“Okay, Jason,” Tim says, and lets his older brother do what he needs to do to feel better after the whole car thing.

Nothing gets Jason back on an even keel faster than being needed by Tim, and no one knows how to push Jason’s buttons effectively better than Tim. They’ve turned it into a dance, of sorts, and it works out.

Jason gets a little bit in Tim’s eye. But they’re okay. He’s still got the other one to look out of while taking photos, and it’s worth it to see Jason fully relaxed again. Besides, Tim thinks cheerfully. Now we can both gang up on Cass together. She’s as pale as Tim is, and probably doesn’t even know what sunscreen is for.

She’s got no idea what’s gonna hit her.

Steph scrubs a hand across her forehead, trying to wipe away some of the sweat before it gets into her eye, but really only manages to smear some flour across her skin. She sighs and reaches for the dirty kitchen towel. It doesn’t look like it’s going to do any better a job, really, with how dirty its gotten. Her mom hasn’t done the laundry in...a while. And Steph’s been more focused on making sure they all have clean underwear, not on getting the bedding and towels washed. So.

Maybe she’ll just...use the hem of her shirt instead.

She does, and it goes about as well as she expected, honestly I don’t know why I even bother, and then the oven timer is going off and her dad is yelling something from the living room and her mom shouts back in a moan from somewhere upstairs and Steph just wants it all to stop. Just.

For two seconds. That’s all she wants.

“I KNOW,” she hollers out the kitchen doorway, and she yanks out the metal pan and (gently) bangs it down onto the stovetop. If her dad wants some stupid cake for himself and his “friends”, he should bake it himself. Steph has other things she should be doing. Like finishing an article. And volunteering at the clinic, which she’s already six minutes late for.

She grabs her backpack from the back of one of the kitchen chairs and slings it over one shoulder as she opens the back door.

“I’ll ice the cake when I get back,” she calls over her shoulder. “Bye!”

"Come back here!” her dad starts, and Stephanie shuts the door to cut off the rest before he can really get going.

She hums along to a Lizzo song as she pops her headphones in her ears and takes off down the sidewalk at a jog. If she hurries, she might still make it in time to sneak Eddie Miller an extra lollipop after he finishes getting his vaccines. She knows he was scared to get them, because he’s hated needles ever since he had to get stitches from Dr. Thompkins when he knocked the bookcase down on his forehead. Steph couldn’t really blame him.

“Hi Leslie!” she calls as she lets herself in the back door. She makes sure to lock it again carefully behind her. No repeats, she thinks. Not on my watch.

“In here, Steph!”

Stephanie drops her bag and takes a moment to scrub her arms up to her elbows at the sink, then ducks around the corner into the only occupied exam room.

“Hi, kiddo,” Dr. Thompkins says, shooting her a quick smile from where she’s just smoothing down a second Band-Aid over Eddie’s skinny little thigh.

“Hey, Dr. Thompkins,” Steph replies cheerfully. “Hey, little dude. Whadja pick out this time?”

Eddie sniffs, and Steph can see he was clearly crying a minute or two earlier. But he’s already pulled himself together and is cheering up. Brave little kid.

“Batman!” he says. “And Robin.”

“Batman and Robin, huh?” she says, smile still firmly in place. She really does hope Robin is okay. At least he’s finally back on patrol, so that’s a good sign, right? She doesn’t know what she was thinking, hitting him in the head like that. She just—panicked.

She panicked. That was bad. Oh, god. Batman probably hates her forever now. Some vigilante she was turning out to be.

“Yep,” Eddie says. “They’re my favorites.”

“He’s been very, very into them, this year,” his Mom sighs, but she doesn’t seem truly exasperated. Just fond.

“You’ve got good taste,” Steph says, and she ruffles his hair before Dr. Thompkins helps him down from the exam table and out through the hallway to the lobby.

“Keep watch for any reaction symptoms, like fever, too much swelling, any kind of shortness of breath or nausea, you know the drill,” Dr. Thompkins is saying to Mrs. Miller.

“I sure hope so, by now,” Mrs. Miller says wryly, as she ushers her other four kids up out of their chairs and towards the door. “Thanks, Dr. Thompkins. I appreciate it. Say bye bye, Eddie.”

“Bye!” Eddie says quickly, before popping a bright green lollipop in his mouth to match the red one he had just polished off a minute earlier. The family sweeps out the door in a jumble of controlled chaos, and the clinic seems jarringly quiet and empty in their wake.

“I saw that,” says Dr. Thompkins, as she turns to scribble something on the clipboard at the front desk before handing it back to the volunteer receptionist.

“Saw what?” Steph says, innocently.

“You gave him that lollipop. I don’t know when you snatched it, but I saw you sneak it to him the second his mom set eyes on the other kiddos. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.” She holds the door to the back open again and ushers Steph through before shutting it behind herself.

Steph laughs. “You’ve got years of practice catching all kinds of people doing all kinds of things,” she protests. “I don’t have to be that sneaky around normal people. His mom didn’t even realize before they left.”

“She will in the car,” Dr. Thompkins says, grinning now. “That was nice of you. He’ll remember that, next time. You’d better be here to sneak him another one if you know what’s good for you.”

“I hope I can be,” Steph says. “And, uh, on that note, sorry I’m late.”

“Everything okay at home?” Dr. Thompkins asks. She drops into the procedure room’s worn-out spinning chair as Steph takes up her usual perch on the counter.

“Dad wanted me to bake a cake,” Steph sighs. “I don’t know why he can’t just order buffalo wings for his buddies like a normal person.”

“Mm. And on that note, do you need a refill, Steph?”

Stephanie looks down for a second before meeting Dr. Thompkin’s eyes.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’m almost out and I don’t want to risk anything. Thanks, Leslie.”

“It’s literally no trouble,” Dr. Thompkins says, with a wave of her hand. She scribbles on a notepad and folds the paper into a little football before tossing it at Steph, who laughs as she snatches it out of the air. “That should get you another month. Make sure you give it to Louis, during the night shifts. He’ll give you the discount as long as I’m around.”

“Thanks,” Steph says again.

“And how’s your mom?” Dr. Thompkins asks, then, leaning back in the chair.

“She’s fine.”

“Fine?”

“Status quo,” Stephanie amends. “She’s got good and bad days. She hasn’t started taking any more than her usual, so for now I guess...things are okay. She’s not getting better, but she’s not getting worse anymore. Half the days she even remembers to do stuff around the house.”

“And you’re left with the other half,” Dr. Thompkins says gently.

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can. I just wish you didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, well.” Stephanie kicks her sneaker against the old 80s tile a couple times, and digs the toe of her shoe into a nick. “It is what it is. It’s bound to get better sometime. Dad just needs to get caught and thrown in prison again.” She snorts and looks up at Dr. Thompkins. “Is it bad that that’s something I’m looking forward to?”

“Nah,” Dr. Thompkins says. “Not in this case. I think you’re good.”

“Bet,” Steph mutters, and leans back to thunk her head against one of the cabinets. “Slow afternoon today?”

“Mm hm. Nothing scheduled till three-thirty, actually. Which means there’s plenty of time for us to catch up, since we’ve barely gotten enough time to say hello these past couple of weeks.”

“Yeah,” Steph agrees. “It seems like every kid in the neighborhood has broken a bone or needed stitches this month.”

“So it goes, in summers,” Dr. Thompkins says, mock-sagely. “And how about you? Any new mysterious injuries you can’t tell me about after a night on the town?”

Stephanie has always had the distinct impression that Dr. Thompkins sees right through her, and knows a whole lot more than she lets on. She could probably rival Batman if she wanted to. But Steph isn’t about to give up the game unless she has to, and if she admitted to being Spoiler for no good reason and Dr. Thompkins hadn’t known after all, that would suck. Plus, there was the whole “mandated reporter” thing that they already tap danced circles around with Steph’s home life, just barely avoiding social services because Steph’s mom was minimally functional for now.

“Nope,” Steph says, popping the p and grinning at Dr. Thompkins.

Leave it at that, she begs. C’mon, Leslie, leave it at that for this week. Let’s talk about the Knights game or something.

“Good,” Dr. Thompkins says. “And have you cut any more since we last talked?”

Steph groans.

“Leslie,” she complains.

“Answer the question, Steph.”

“Yes,” Steph mutters, giving Dr. Thompkins the stink eye.

“How many times.”

“Four.”

“Did you—”

“I used clean blades, I wiped them down with alcohol before and afterwards, I put butterfly bandaids on the one deep cut, and I’ve been applying ointment every day,” Stephanie interrupts, feeling cranky now. This was a good day. She doesn’t want to think about the bad while she’s in Leslie’s sanctuary. Tonight is already going to be shitty enough.

“That’s good,” Dr. Thompkins says, undeterred. “And are you keeping them covered?”

Stephanie is silent.

“Steph,” Dr. Thomkins says, exasperated. She reaches behind her and pulls on a pair of examination gloves. “You’ve got to take care of them. You’ve been lucky to not get any infections so far, with how active you are and the fact that you work at a pool. Having wounds rubbing against your clothing and bathing suit constantly isn’t going to help them heal.”

“I know that,” Steph snaps.

“Let me see,” says Dr. Thompkins, as gently as Steph’s ever heard her. “Come on, Steph.” She’s standing in front of Stephanie now, careful to leave open a path to the door. Steph can’t really stay mad at her when she knows she’s just looking out for Steph.

God knows Steph wishes someone would, more often. She's so goddamn tired of raising herself.

“Fine,” she says, and unbuttons her jeans. She shimmies out of them without hopping off the counter, and watches Leslie’s hands like a hawk as the older woman folds Steph’s underwear down just enough to see what she needs to on either side, gently prodding the edges of cuts up and down Steph’s hip area in various stages of healing. She’s careful to narrate everything she’s doing. Steph appreciates that.

“Can I clean and dress them really quick?” she asks finally, looking up at Stephanie.

It can’t hurt, Steph thinks. At the very least, that’s one round of bandages I don’t have to pay for from the drugstore. And it’ll hold up better than anything I can manage while I’m out tonight.

“Okay,” she says. Dr. Thompkins nods and pulls out what she needs, working quickly and efficiently as always; clean, medicate, bandage, check for secure seal. When she’s finished, she gives Steph’s legs one final pat and holds the jeans out for Steph to grap.

“I’m sorry,” Steph says quietly. “I know I said I was going to stop, and I was really trying, I did for a while, I just—”

Dr. Thompkins holds up a hand, throws her gloves in the waste bin, and turns to look Steph right in the eye.

"You don’t need to apologize to me for anything,” she says. “Steph, honey, you’re doing what you have to do to make it through when things are intolerable. This isn’t the first thing you try. I know that. I know how hard you’re fighting to stop hurting yourself, and I’m proud of you. It’s better for you to fall back on self harming to cope when you’re really desperate than for you to end up even worse and doing something you can’t heal from so easily, hm?”Stephanie swallows.

“Okay,” she whispers. “You’re not—you’re not gonna make me stop helping out around here?”

Dr. Thompkins frowns, looking genuinely confused. “Why would I do that?”

Steph shrugs. “I dunno. Just. Dad said if he ever caught me with cuts or scars again I’d be out of the house, since I’d be bad publicity, or a risk to others, or something, so I just...I figured maybe you wouldn’t want me around kids, or something.”

“Honey,” Dr. Thompkins says, and finally reels Steph into a hug. “No. I know you’d never hurt anyone. You’re fantastic with the kids, and a big help around here. I’m happy to have you around whenever you have time. And listen,” she adds, pulling back and staring at Steph with something fierce in her eyes. “If your dad ever does try to kick you out, you come straight here and you tell me. I won’t let you end up on the street. We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Steph says, again. “I—thanks, Dr. Thompkins.”

“Any time,” the older woman says, patting Stephanie’s shoulder firmly. “Now come on. Let’s see if we can get another few boxes sorted through before the next appointment shows up. It’s Mr. Lewis, so I’ll bet you he’ll be late, as usual.”

Steph follows her out the door, and the rest of the afternoon flies by in a blur of comfortable busywork and friendly banter with both Dr. Thompkins and the patients. She always likes the days she can spend at Leslie’s clinic. They feel normal . They feel kind of like how she imagines a good home.

And if she does occasionally sneaks a popsicle or lollipop for herself from one of the stashes? Leslie doesn’t really seem to mind.

Steph publishes the anonymous article to the Batwatch community site as she walks home, to be vetted by one of the mods. If all goes well, it’ll be up by tonight, and things might finally start picking up.

Her moss has been doing well, and it’s definitely been getting notice. But only by the people in little clusters around each location. She’d thought there would be more of a buzz about the messages once the moss really became visible, but apparently she’d underestimated how much most people stuck to their own neighborhoods across most of the city. So the article was her backup, a nice guest piece on how someone has “noticed” on their daily bike rides that there was moss graffiti popping up around Gotham, and that they had made it their mission to compile a list of the clues. Or, rather, the spoilers.

Steph uses a voice scrambler app to place a call to GCPD just before she made it back to her house, warning them about a robbery that was supposed to take place tonight at Gotham First Bank, and hangs up before they could convince her to give anything else away. She has to protect her identity, especially in case anyone on her dad’s side got a hold of the call recording after the fact. She has to be careful.

With any luck, her dad will be arrested tonight and tossed back in jail where he belongs, and that’ll be one fewer thing for Steph to worry about. It’s too late for that to stop the big plan in motion—Steph knows that. It was much bigger than just her dad, anyway. Much, much bigger. Steph doesn’t know exactly who’s behind all of it, herself, and she’s been hunting . But at least this will be a step. And if the article gets published, that’ll at least get some of the information onto Batman’s radar, too.

She can work from there. As soon as she figures out how to get back in contact with them after, you know, nearly killing Robin. But it was an accident!

Hope Batman sees it that way, she thinks dejectedly. Hope he doesn’t just take me down in two seconds and tie me up for the police as soon as he sees me.

She pushes open the rusty gate to their side yard and heads for the house. That’s a problem for future Steph to figure out.

Right now, she’s got a cake to finish. And it’s going to be spectacular.

Steph ices the cake.

It’s pristine, a chocolate buttercream coating she made herself and taste-tested to perfection. She pipes on white icing as well, in little shells around the edges, and tops it all off with very tasteful rainbow sprinkles and “Happy Thursday!” in precise cursive that would make her 5th grade handwriting teacher weep.

Also, every single part of the cake and icing is chock full of laxatives. This is going to be the worst night of her dad’s life.

Steph can’t wait to spy on the police station after this one.

She places the pan, covered, on the coffee table, with plates and forks and a serving knife and Here you go, Dad, I hope you like it, it’s your nana’s old recipe like the good little daughter she is. Then she takes the stairs two at a time to her room, strips out of her clothes, and tugs on the underlayer of her costume. It takes a bit of time and tugging to get all the layers of leggings and undershirts and belts to play nicely with each other, but she manages. Then it’s time to tug on the outer layer, and the head covering, and more belts, and her mini-backpack with a few anonymous tips she’s planning to drop off at various offices, and she’s off.

Steph slips out the window, closing it without pulling the latch behind her, and swings her way silently across the awning, hand over hand, till she reaches the porch roof. She drops down through the few-inch gap, sticking to the darkest part of the roof, and then with a running jump she’s flying through the air, onto the fence with barely a rattle, and scrambling up and over and out into freedom and the great big night.

Gotham may be a shitty city, in a lot of ways, sure. But it’s her city. It’s her flesh and blood and bone and hard pavement, it’s her smoggy air and Crime Alley neighborhood and games with little kids who don’t know to be so afraid yet, and she’s not going to let it get taken down without a fight.

Steph sprints across the alleys, heading towards Uptown, getting a decent head start.

This night is going to work. She knows it. The plan is going to work out if it kills her. And if she’s right—which, duh, she totally is—it’s going to be the first big step towards stopping the Big Bad Plan of Unfathomable Suckiness, as she’s taken to calling it.

After tonight, she thinks, t his whole city’s gonna know the name Spoiler. And they’re going to have to sit up and notice what’s going on under everyone’s noses. No more hiding from the shadows. Not when the shadows are gonna come knocking whether you hide from them or not.

A fter tonight, Steph says to herself, firmly, everyone is going to know there’s a new player in town. And no matter what it takes, she vows, while kick-running and vaulting over a concrete barrier blocking her way to the city hall, I’m going to win.

[ Read on ao3 ]

#tim drake #stephanie brown #batfam #dc #shutterbug series

26 notes · View notes

superhero-boogie · 5 years

Text

They can't know. Part 2.

(Sup, people? It's the final part. Enjoy.)

Warning; Angst, Fluff, Cursing.

Request ; None. ( Requests are open.)

The noise of your feet repeatedly hitting the floor was the only sound on the desert Batcave while you waited for Babs. You were at the edge; the anxiety making you sweat when you finally heard her motorcycle. She parked next to you taking out the helmet and fixing her hair.

- Can you please hurry? It is a kind of emergency. - You begged.

- Sure, the emergency. - She got off the bike. - The reason you can’t tell me why I need to hack Tim’s computer. And do what again?

- Erase all the camera records since last week. - you promptly answered.

She shook her head, giving a tired sigh before hugging your side.

- Okay, crazy girl. Lead the way.

You took her to Tim’s laptop and waited while she got ready.

- If you keep looking over my shoulder while I work I will kick your ass.

- I’m sorry. I won’t bother anymore.- You backed off - Do you want something to drink?

- Now we’re talking, sweetie. Can you bring a glass of water, please?

You nod, walking out of the cave through the stairs. Your heart calmed down knowing Tim couldn’t figure your relationship out anymore, and since you were vague about the records Babs didn’t know what to look for.

Grabbing your phone you called Wally.

- Hey, babe, can we talk later? - He whispered.

- Of course! Is everything okay? -

- Everything is fine, I have to go, okay?

- Okay, by...- You heard the call end.

You thought that was odd, Wally always answered your calls or leave a message about why he couldn’t talk.

Looking at the dark screen of your phone you mind raced of all the reasons he couldn’t answer your call. Maybe he was at some mission you didn’t know about, Wally could be at some meeting or somewhere phones weren’t allowed. Or, the possibility crawled inside your mind, he could be with someone. Maybe he finally grew tired of a half relationship with you and went looking for a new, fully, one.

The feeling of someone squeezing your throat came back and suddenly you couldn’t breathe anymore. Taking deep breaths you leaned against the wall and sat on one step hugging your legs, your head on your knees.

- Miss Y/N? Are you hurt?

Looking up you saw a worried Alfred.

- Nope, just got tired half of the way up. - Your voice was hoarse so the attempt of a pun didn’t work out.

Alfred sat next to you without saying nothing, and you rested your head on his shoulder.

- Alfred? - You called with a small voice.

- Yes, Miss Y/N?

- Would you be upset with me if I lied to you?

- I may assure you, Miss, nothing you could do would upset me.

You went silence again thinking about what he had said.

- And the others? Do you think they would?

Alfred seemed to think about your question.

- You have to understand, Miss, that this family has been gone through a lot, but no matter what they’re still are a family. And for best or for worse, you’re part of it.

- So... What you’re saying is... Maybe? - Your laugh a little.

- I’m saying that you should trust everything will end up fine.

-... Thanks, Alfred.

- Well, let’s go now, it’s not proper for us to sit on the floor.

With your heart lighter you continued your way.

XXX

If you were honest with yourself you knew you wouldn’t stay at the party. You never were a YJ member, so your plan was to say hi to everyone, grab Damian and watch movies. You definitely didn’t want to be a bother especially because that was a time for your brother and your boyfriend.

This without mentioning that you didn’t want to face Wally, especially after thinking those awful things about him.

You were coming back from the kitchen after grabbing some snacks, your hair still wet from your shower, hoping no one saw you as you sneak your way to your bedroom.

But, of course, you weren’t that lucky.

- Y/N! Hey, how are you, girl? - You heard Zatanna call.

- Fuck - You whispered before turning around with a smile.

- Zatanna! Hey! I’m good. - You tried to be discreet even if you felt like everyone one was staring. - Listen, I can’t talk right now. Damian is waiting and I’m not really a YJ member.

- Why don’t you just say hi then? - You got a little frightened at her continuous stare at your throat. She wouldn’t strangle you just because you didn’t say hi, right?

- Well… You see…-

- Y/N. - A different voice said.

You turned and saw Wally with his arms crossed with a suggestive look.

- Wally! - All you could think was “Crap, crap, crap.” - Hi! What’s up?

- Can I talk to you? Alone? - He looked at Zatanna. And you turned to her as well begging with your eyes to her not leave.

- Okay, I’m going, see ya. - She winked not so discreetly at you.

You watched her leave until it was just you and Wally. Seeing no runaway routes you faced him.

- So… What do you want to talk? - Your voice was cheerful.

- Why were you hiding?

- I wasn’t! - You were.

- Please, Y/N. I know you. There’s something wrong? - Wally uncrossed his arms, his hand discreetly holding yours. - You know you can talk to me, right?

Seeing him worrying about you made your heart warm and heavy from guilt.

- I’m fine, Wally, really. I... I got worried about something stupid, but Alfred helped me out. - You intertwined your fingers together. - What did you want to talk?

He corrected his posture and released your hand.

- Yeah. Right. That. I almost forgot. - His face was dead serious without the hint of humor you were used to. - Answer honestly, please.

- Always! - You were starting to freak out again.

- Why don’t you want your family to know about us? Are you ashamed of me?

- What?! Wally, no! I would never...! - You took a deep breath. - Wally. - You put your hands on his cheeks. - Is literally impossible for me to be ever ashamed of you.

He held your hands still, his eyes looking fragile.

- Then why you don’t want them to know I’m your boyfriend?

- Honestly, in the beginning, I didn’t want my family being weird around you in case it didn’t work out. Especially because of Dickie. Then it worked out, and I knew we would never have a moment of peace if they knew and… I just wanted to keep you for myself for a while, but it was a giant snowball effect and I got scared that they would hate me if they found I lied to them for so long. - You held your foreheads together. - But if you want me to tell them, I will. You’re worth it, Wally. And if that means my family being mad at me for a while then be it.

- No, Y/N, not if you don’t feel ready y…

- What the fuck is going on here?!

You jumped apart, your hand going to your heart. Your brother gazed straight to your soul, arms crossed.

- J-Jason! ... Hi, buddy! You see; Y/N here was with something in her eye and I was... - You put your hand on his chest making him stop talking.

- No, Wally. That’s not right. - Wally observed in your eyes looking for any sight of hesitation before taking your hand.

- Are you sure, Y/N? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.

- I am. I’ve told y…

- I’m still waiting for an explanation, Y/N! - You let go of Wally turning to look at your brother.

- Jay, can you please call everyone over? I promise I’ll explain everything; I don’t want to do it more than once.

He looked like he was having a stroke.

- Please? - You cut him when you saw him opening his mouth.

- I swear to god sometimes you’re just too much. - He angrily turned on his hills.

- Phew. That was close. - Wally messed his hair.

- You don’t tell me. You’re lucky my Dad doesn’t let him carry his guns around me.

- Why?! - Worry flooded his eyes.

- Relax, It’s not what you’re thinking. I’ll tell the story later. Now let’s go face the beast.

- Which one? - You laughed pulling him in the living room direction.

XXX

You were facing a little crowd, Wally tense beside you. Jason was quick and really took your word so you were not only facing your family but the whole team too. This without counting the people of Dick’s party. Your Dad’s bat glare almost making you back off.

- What is so urgent that Todd needed to take me out of my room, Y/N?

- Yeah, Y/N, tell us why the fuck I took demon spawn out of his room? Would you?

- Guys, shut up, let her talk!

You gave a grateful look at Stephanie.

- Thanks. Look guys I will need you to let me end, okay? Can you promise me that?

You looked at each one of them strategically avoiding Dick’s questioning eyes. Everyone nodded.

- Me and Wally... - You took his hand. - Have been dating for the past months. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I truly am, but please don’t be mad at him. It was me who wanted to keep it a secret.

Wally smiled at you and you smiled back.

- We love each other and I would really appreciate if you don’t kill him.

- Me too. - Wally quickly add. You squeezed his hand and lifted your chin.

- Okay, you can talk now.

If anyone asked you it was right there when hell went down.

- The fuck?!

- What?!

- When... How... What?!

The YJ team awkwardly stood there, slowly leaving the room. Almost everyone talked at the same time until your Dad’s calm voice spoke.

- How long have you two been dating? - You bit your lip.

- Almost ten months now, right, babe? - Wally nodded.

- Just two more weeks.

Your Dad seemed to think and intertwined his fingers.

- Ten months?! That much?!

- Who cares, Drake?! - Damian turned to you. - Why him, Y/N? I thought I had taught you better.

- Is no one going to mention the age gap?! Seriously? No one?!

- Oh, shut up, Todd. Who are you to talk? - Damian said. - I want to know why she didn’t tell us. Don’t you trust us, Y/N? - Damian’s question hit you like a punch.

- Well, you guys aren’t exactly giving her time to answer, are you? - Everyone shut up when Cass talked. You stood there frozen, trying hard not to cry.

- Thanks, Cassandra. Guys, I swear we will answer everything. Just take it easy on Y/N. - He bent to whisper on your ear. - Are you okay, babe?

- Y-Yeah... J-Just fine.

The room got silent for some minutes.

- So... this probably isn’t the best time to say I already knew.

Everyone turned to Barbara.

- Wait, what?! - Your eyes could fall off for the much you opened them.

- Do you know how you asked me to erase the records? I got curious and did a face recognition of you on them, so I kind saw you guys making out.

- Yeah, since we’re confessing I should probably say I knew too.

- You too, Tim?! How?!

- Ahn... Barbara didn’t erase the videos from my second backup, and when I saw someone erase them I looked up. Also, sorry, I told Steph; she got curious about why she needed to take me out of the mansion.

- Okay, how many people knew? Raise your hand.

Zatanna shyly raised her hand.

- You don’t even live here! How?!

- Ahn... It’s best if I don’t say anything. Just... you know... - She tried pointing discreetly at her own neck. Suddenly you remembered you took a shower and put none makeup.

You put your hand on your neck as everyone looked at you.

- Why are you with your hand on your neck, sister? It’s not what I think it is, is it?

- You’re screwing my sister, West?! She’s just a baby! - Jason got up going in Wally direction.

- Jay, stop!

Dick and Bruce stood and grabbed his arms, Jason fought for a while before giving up. You looked at Dick, his eyes normally so expressive not showing anything. It scared the hell out of you.

- Y/N, Wally, can you come with me for a second?

You followed Dick, Wally arm around your shoulder as if he was trying to protect you.

- Listen, Dick, I swear we didn’t mean to. It kinda just happened. And I know she’s way younger than me, I swear I would never disrespect her. I’m not even her first! And…

- Wally shut the fuck up! You’re making worse! - Dick raised his hand shutting you both.

- I’m just going to ask two things. - He was dead serious.

You nodded.

- Do you love her? And you love him, Y/N?

- Yes, of course.

- With all my heart, Dickie.

- Why did you feel like you’re needed to keep it a secret from me?

- I didn’t want to disappoint you, man. She’s your sister.

- You didn’t need to. I want you to know that. I’m happy for you, but I want to clarify that I’ll be watching you from now on, so keep your hands to yourself, dude.- Dick looked very scary at that moment. - And I’m kicking your butt if you hurt her, okay?

Wally gulped.

- Clear as water, man. Hands to myself.

- Fine. - He smiled at you before giving you a hug. - I’ll calm things down, you guys wait a minute before coming back.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and hugged Wally, your head on his chest.

- France’s looking pretty good, now, huh? - His chin on the top of your head.

- Shh. Let me just hold you a bit more.

- I’m glad we did it though.

- Strangely, me too. At least we won’t have to sneak around anymore.

- Y/N, I think we both know that’s not true. If anything, we’ll sneak around way more.

You lifted your head looking in his eyes.

- I love you, Wally West. I know we said this a lot to my family, but I need you to know.

- I love you too, Y/N Wayne.- He looked at your lips, slowly closing the space between you. His lips met yours and you melted in his arms, your own arms going up to hug his neck, your finger on his hair. You slightly opened your mouth and Wally put his tongue on your mouth, you brought him closer making a harsh moan escaping.

- What the fuck?!

You jumped, a smile on your face.

#bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #wally west x reader #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #young justice outsiders #dc comics #batsis #batfamily #batfam #zatanna #batsister

166 notes · View notes

dibs4ever · 6 years

Text

Dick Grayson Fatherhood

Dick loved being a father, honestly, he never put much thought or fantasy into being a dad one day but here he was an actual father for real and he loved it. It scared him. He worried constantly that somehow some baddie would figure out Nightwing had a kid and hold him against him. Or perhaps a criminal would want to kidnap Bruce Wayne/Commissioner Gordon’s Grandson And he acting as Nightwing will have to jump into action without leading on that they had his kid.

He’d have to hold back from killing someone if they as much of harmed his son.

His favorite thing to do with Nathan was to see how bendy he was. It sounded weird but it was the truth. At almost 8 months old Nathan was probably going to take his first steps any day. The doctor said he was advanced and that his keen balance skills might have spurred from his acrobatic genes. He loved seeing bits of himself in his son, he also loved seeing bits of Barbara, like the way he crinkled up his nose when he was concentrating. Or how quickly he picked up on baby sign language. He was also super attached to Barbara, which everyone joked he got from Dick.

Barbara. She was an amazing mother. He couldn’t have asked for someone better to be the mother of his child. He never imagined she’d be so attentive but she was. In fact, he almost got in a fight with Roy last week after he made a remark about how Barbara was “almost a hippy” mom. He knew he meant it as a joke but it still aggravated him.

“Batman says to go to 46th and 10th” Barbara pulled him out of his thoughts

He looked toward the bat-clad girl, he loved her so much. He wanted to be with her so badly, but he needed to respect her and her wishes to keep their co-parenting platonic.

Currently, they were on patrol together for the first time in over a year. Before he faked his death, before he returned to find her with his 6-week old son, before he bought an apartment for them to live in.

They had tried not to patrol together, wanting one of them to be with their son at all times. But tonight called for it. Joker had apparently set multiple hidden bombs off around Gotham set to go off at 1 am. Nightwing and Batgirl has to deactivate one on the West Side Village Apartment building. One of the largest in Gotham. Now they just needed to locate it and deactivate it.

“Why don’t you check the basement and I’ll check the lobby?” Batgirl suggested

Dick glanced at the clock “BG it’s 12:30”

Barbara nodded “I know Hunk Wonder, of we don’t find anything we meet back at the 3rd floor at 12:45.”

Nightwing smiled at her nickname “Right, don’t wanna cause a rage of panic unless we absolutely have to. “

Barbara nodded and they both jumped into separate directions

Dick searched and searched in hopes of finding the bomb but had no luck. He heard Batgirls communicator buzz in

“Hey Wing”

“Hey Red, I hope you’re calling to tell me you deactivated a bomb. Really don’t want to deal with panic stricken civilians”

“Unfortunately not”

Dick sighed glancing at the time-12:40 “Looks like we’re evacuating a building. Meet you in 5” he signed off before running to the stairs.

They opted to pull the fire alarm pinning it as the best way to get people out as quickly as possible. That didn’t mean they still didn’t have to convince some people to leave. Dick was aiding an elderly woman he had just spent the last 5 minutes convincing to leave. (She has only agreed when he told her he’d help her with carrying her cats out.) He passed Barbara as she was walking back into the building.

“Where are you going?” He asked

Barbara looked at him “Back in, doing a last go around”

Dick shook his head “It’s 12:55, get out of the building “

Barbara shook her head “No you “

Dick sighed “Babs I’ll do the last walk through” he handed the woman her cats and pushed her gently out

Barbara looked at him “Dick please one of us has to go out and make sure they are safe. For well you know who.”

Dick nodded “Which is why I’m telling you to get out now Barbara Please I’m begging you. He needs you more than me”

Barbara shook her head “I’m not leaving you”

“And I’m not leaving here till I know the building is empty” Dick said

Barbara looked at the time 12:56 “Well I guess that makes two of us” she thought perhaps he would agree to come out with her if she stood her ground. This had been her plan all along. She knew he’d want to keep going back and forth into the building. Testing his limits with time. She didn’t want to take a chance of losing him again. But he was walking back up the stairs again. She followed behind

Dick looked at her “Babs please”

She shook her head “No”

Dick bit his lip, “Damn it” he mumbled

Before she knew it he had scooped her up and was running with her out the door. He set her down “Stay” he growled before running back in. Which surprised her. She thought she had him.

She attempted to run back in but was stopped when the building exploded “No!” She screamed falling to her knees where she began sobbing. Then through the rubble, Dick walked back out. In his arms was a cat. The same old lady he had helped out last rushed forward he was able to hand it to her before falling to his knees. Barbara rushed over to him

“I promised-I’d save all her cats if she got out” he whispered

Barbara held his face in her hands, whipping off the soot that covered his cheeks “Oh Grayson” she whispered

“I don’t break promises” he started to chuckle but then began coughing

Barbara stood pulling his arm over her shoulders and helping him up “Let’s get you home so I can give you a check up”

Barbara did just as she promised after he showered she was ready to patch him up and give him a breathing treatment to help clear his lungs after some other treatments she ordered him to go to bed, which he wasn’t complaining about since he was honestly exhausted. He was awakened when his bedroom door creaked open. Although the room was dark he knew who it was. She waited till she crawled into the bed beside him to speak “Checking in on me?” He grinned

Barbara didn’t say anything for a while “You scared me today”

Dick was quiet for a moment “I’m sorry”

She took a deep breath “I thought I’d lost you again”

“Babs I get into this mode when I’m Nightwing and I don’t even know what I’m doing. I think about that now and think how careless it was so no need to lecture me.”

She nodded “I just-all these thoughts flashed before my eyes”

“When I saw the clock hit 1 it did for me too.”

Barbara looked at him “Like?”

Dick looked down at her “Like you moving on, marring some normal guy, and Nathan calling him daddy”

Barbara shook her head “That would never happen”

“Yeah your right, I already told Jason if anything happened to me he should marry you and raise my son“

Barbara grimaced at the thought “Did you really?”

Dick chuckled “No I didn’t Babs. But still the thought of another man raising him hurt”

Barbara hugged his waist resting her chin on his shoulder “That wouldn’t ever happen, Dick. Your an amazing Father to him. I can't even stand the thought of another man acting as his dad.”

Dick looked at her “Oh yeah? You don’t ever want to be with another man again? You just want to be single the rest of your life?”

Barbara scrunched up her nose confused at first but then realized what he was saying “I-I never thought of it like that”

Dick smiled “If its any conciliation I can’t see myself ever finding anyone to be a sizable mother to how amazing you are”

Barbara smiled

Dick smiled “So if we don’t want to be with anyone else, we’re both living together and we both have a baby together than why don’t we-“

Barbara shook her head “Dick”

Dick shifted “Come on Babs think about it”

She sighed

He shifted so that they were facing each other “The fact that you and I both don’t want to date anyone else. The fact that our son is so well adjusted with us together. We’re already living together-very happily I might add. We’re basically a couple who doesn’t show any affection toward each other.”

Barbara looked up in thought “But Dick, what would people assume.”

Dick shook his head “Who gives a flying leap about what people would assume. I love you and I know you still love me. We don’t want to be with other people so what’s the use in us being miserable and lonely when we can both just stop being stubborn and be together” he whispered pressing their foreheads together “If it helps we can keep the whole thing under wraps till we’re ready to tell people”

Barbara laughed lightly “Yeah cause keeping it under wraps from my dad worked so well last time. After you came back we kept from my dad that you were Nate’s father for what? A week?”

Dick chuckled “A week and 3 days thank you very much” he booped her nose then fell back to his back and thought back on the day “Grayson why do you keep calling my grandson Chavo? He said”

Barbara smiled and began playing with his hand “Well Commissioner, you see its Romani my father used to call me that” Barbara spoke the line Dick had said

Dick ran his free hand through Barbara’s hair “Oh really what does it mean?” He continued the story

She shook her head “Then you had to come out and say ‘Son’”

Dick nodded “And it all clicked”

Barbara rolled so she was resting on top of him “He wasn’t mad but he wasn’t happy he said, ‘What? When did this happen, I thought you two were just friends “

Dick laughed “You can yell at me all you want for slipping up with the son thing but at least I’m not the one who responded to that with ‘Seriously Dad, I thought you were the detective. We haven’t kept our hands off each other in years”

Barbara laughed “Hey its the truth” she ran a hand through his hair “He still loves all three of us though regardless. Unlike my grandmother” she rolled off him and lied beside him again.

Dick shifted “I really wish you’d make up with her. She’s the only Great Grandparent Nay Nay has.”

Barbara shook her head “Dick when we took him to the retirement home to meet her 5 months ago she took one look at you and before she even met you all she saw was your skin tone. Then when she figured out her great-grandson was half Romani all she did was ridicule us”

Dick was quiet “It’s just the generations she grew up in. Your dad stood up for us” he pointed

“She was wrong though. Everywhere I go people tell me how beautiful he is. I felt so bad the other day Artemis and I went to the park with the kids and this couple kept commenting on how cute Nathan was. How much they loved his eyes and his tan skin, how his smile was so beautiful. Meanwhile Arty was sitting there with the twins. Her and Wally’s kids are really cute too” Barbara made sure to address

Dick nodded “Yeah they are” he leaned forward “But you and I-we really did make a beautiful child together didn’t we?” She hadn’t retracted so he nuzzled her neck. And when she didn’t retract to that he began planted soft kisses in the crook of her neck

Barbara sighed “Okay”

He lifted his head up “Okay?”

“Let’s give us a go again. If not for us let’s do it for Nate. He deserves to have his parents together. The least we can do is tell him we at least tried to be together” she reached up running her fingers through his hair. A giddy smile growing on Dick’s face before he leaned forward placing a passionate kiss on her lips

“Does this mean I get to move into the master bedroom with you?” He asked pulling away slightly

Barbara grinned “We’ll see Lover, just keep kissing me” she said before pulling him back to her.

#dick grayson #barbara gordon #nightwing #batgirl #dickbabs #batfamily #batfam headcanons #batfam fanfiction #batfam au

66 notes · View notes

dcladies-secretsanta · 6 years

Text

Bats In The Belfry

TO: @bottomless-pit-dweller

FROM: Your Secret Santa

"Who are you?" A quiet voice asks hours later, Steph drenched in sweat and fists wrapped but still aching something awful. If she weren't a bat she wold have jumped; she was a bit caught up in her head, didn't even hear the girl come in. She couldn't be Batman.

"I'm the new Batman." She answers with a resigned sigh, turning to face the girl.

"Hey Steph, can you do me a Solid?" Tim's voice started when she picked up the phone, and she groaned in frustration because that voice was the 'I'm going to ask you do do something you don't want to do' voice, but it was Tim, so it was also the 'You'll do it anyway' voice, and she just wanted A Day Off.

"What's up, Tim?" She sighed, and got gratification from the 'ah' that always accompanied that uncomfortable-guilty cringe he did. Good. If she had to deal with his bullshit, then he probably deserves the discomfort.

"So. Don't hang up-" he says, and, if Steph was stupid enough to believe Tim hadn't done something to remotely disable the Hang Up button on her phone, she definitely would have. Heck, she kinda wanted to try anyway, and he hadn't even said anything yet. "But.Um. So."

"Get to the point, Tim." Steph gritted out, and Tim heaved a sigh of his own.

"So. Dick's off planet with Duke and Babs for some peace talk." He started and yes, she already knew this, and he was clearly and blatantly stalling for time, and she didn't want to deal with this bullshit.

"Yes, Tim. I was there when Ol' Batty went over the plan. You're Batman- sorry for your luck-, Damian's Robin and training that girl from his school- that's honestly kinda cute- and Cass is flying back in to fill in for Nightwing. Cullen gets to try his spot at Oracle. Harper stays Batgirl, I stay awesome, Jason stays Redhood, and Bruce stays in bed on Alfred's orders. Seriously, Get To The Point or I'll just drop the phone and leave." she threatens, and Tim is silent long enough that she almost starts celebrating a rare bullet dodged, because whatever he's trying to ask is not gonna be good. But, Alas-

"Damian snuck onto the ship with the others. And Zeta beams as well as Communications were quickly disabled." Tim doesn't know how to blink first. Figures. She mutters a curse as she figures something else out, fingers turning white in her grip of the phone, because-

"They left a week ago, Tim. Ever think that maybe this is information you're supposed to share with the class?" She nearly growled, because she loved Tim, but he's also the absolute worst sometimes.

"I didn't want to worry anyone! We can't really do anything about it besides hope everything's fine and try to fix it from our end, and The Leauge is already working on that. I've been training Olive, and it's been a quiet week. I didn't need a Robin." He defends himself, and there's a bit to unpack and talk about there, because he must be woried out of his mind and it's bullshit that he didn't tell any of them, but there are more pressing matters.

"I'm sensing a 'But' here." she says hesitantly, reminded of Pandora and her Box.

"But," he obliges, "I'm a little...Shot, right now. Ok. Maybe a lot shot. I'm on bed rest for the foreseeable future. Bart dragged me to Titans Tower because Alfred's so busy with Bruce. I had to blackmail them into letting me have this call instead of passing out." He admits reluctantly and yeah, now that she's listening for it instead of just being angry at him for talking, she can hear his breathing and he's talking a little slow, which is the Bat Equivalent of slurring your words.

"What the hell Tim." she groans, feeling a headache start to form. "Seriously, spit it out. What do you want? What is this about?" She asked, anger masking worry.

"You are my last hope." he starts, and that's not good. "I swear Steph, I wouldn't ask if you weren't. I need you to be Batman."

Steph is silent. She freezes. she's clenching one fist hard enough to draw blood with her nails, and the other hard enough to crack the phone in half if it wasn't a BatPhone designed to keep sturdier then a fucking Nokia. It makes sense, given ho angry people get when talking to Bruce. After the seventh that broke being thrown against a wall and the 12 that was snapped in half and the 3rd ground into bits under someone's heel, they went through some revisions.

"Please Steph. I'll delete that blackmail from Star City, you know the one. I'll give you eternal access to whatever you want. I'll dress in drag and do the Hula. I'm actually begging here. Harper can't be Batman. Jason *laughed* at me when I asked. Cass is dead set on Nightwing, something about a bet. Kate doesn't have time to be Batwoman right now, let alone Batman. No one can get a hold of Azreal. Jim's too old, even with the mech suit. You're the only option." He rants and wow, either pain or drugs is really getting to him because he sounds almost hysteric.

"Fuck you." she snarls. "Fuck you sideways. Fuck Everyone in this god forsaken family. Fuck Damian in particular, little brat. Fuck you." She spits, because she;s a fighter and this is the best she can do. "Seriously. Fuck You. My revenge will be slow and painful, and you owe me so many things, and I'm dying the BatSuit purple out of spite. All of them. Except Cass's, because I love her. Once you heal, I'm kicking your ass." She grumbles and promises and goes on, but it all boils down to her reluctant defeat.

"Thanks Steph, yes I know I suck, you're the best, Goddess amoung Mortals, yes I know you hate me, sorry steph-" Tim indulges her rant because he's a good friend and a smart guy like that, and she only stops when he actually starts slurring words.

"Go The Fuck To Sleep, Boy Wonder." She growls and he hums a good bye and hangs up. She almost buries her head in her knees and pities herself, but instead goes to the BatCave and works through her anger with a good old fashioned punching bag.

Fuck This.

READ ON AO3

#stephanie brown #cassandra cain #gotham academy #batgirl #dcladiessecretsanta2k18 #fanfic #bottomless-pit-dweller

8 notes · View notes

satire-please · 7 years

Text

My Teeth are like Swords - Part 2

Summary: (I’m tired and can’t transfer this in a way to keep my italics in dang it.) Tim is a detective...who lives with detectives. The other Bat's start noticing something different about one of their own. And Tim realizes that he can't hide forever.

Part 1

Dragon Tim on Ao3

Like finding gold dust on a blood moon, there are times Tim will hear about his Mother. It’s difficult to encounter another drake, they’re too rare, too widely spread that it’s a miracle that Tim has met two. But it’s always a surprise to hear that Janet Drake is considered a romantic, sentimental imbecile to other dragonfolk.

To mate with a human is one thing, but to shift and willingly live beside them in their pitiful metal ant hills? Preposterous.

And to carry young on that state? Inside of their own bodies instead of in a proper shell as hard as diamonds? Unheard of.

What foolish unnecessary risks.

Tim felt his core bubble in warmth whenever he hears such slander. That Mother would care that much. Once, he did approached her on the subject.

“I spent many centuries as a upstanding, model drake.”Janet sniffed disdainfully, steering Tim from a fuming man at one of Gotham’s many galas. The drake from the east is starting to show, smoke passing from his nose uncontrollably. How embarrassing, her Timothy showed more restraint when he was three. “Now I find it much more valuable of my time to do as I please. Besides, the fact remains that my line will continue to endure and adapt unlike most bloodlines that will taste stone and dust.”

Tim summed it up to, ‘I do what I want. Leave me alone or burn.’

She glanced behind her to give the man a subtle sneer. What a fool to think that she would accept such an inadequate betrothal for her son. And, to add insult to injury, the man’s daughter hadn’t even bothered to present herself. “A dragon is a dragon, Timothy. It doesn't matter if you are half, a quarter or only possess a single drop of our blood. Magic doesn't care. It will still take, you will still shift, you will still fly. And if those incessant pathetic hair ribbons say anything different, show them there are still ways to make a dragon fry.”

Tim loved his Mother.

It’s...a shame he’s the only one who knew how she died.

And it wasn’t from that stupid water Obeah left, no matter how traditional to dragon slaying poison is. True it weakened her to the point of inducing a death-like coma, but if Tim lifted an eyelid the iris would still flash and respond. If Tim pressed his hand to her chest, he’d still feel the hint of fire tucked within.

Robbing the cemetery had been a pain though. It’s not like he could just tell Dad that, ‘Um hey, mother’s not dead. No, I know she seems like she’s dead. Yes, I know she doesn’t have a pulse, but you see–’

Yeah, not happening.

He abused his connections for a nice cave carved out of the cliff face next to the manor. It’s not like Mr. Wayne was using it. It could be accessed from the rocky beach if necessary, the entrance tight until you were a couple meters in. Then it stretched enough for his mother’s body to shift unconsciously, so the dragon could heal and sleep in peace.

Tim had thought it was perfect.

It didn’t matter much in the end.

Not when Mother finally woke and could smell Tim’s lie about Dad. Not when she stopped eating. The young teen would find, hunt, and drag dead deer and antelope into the cave only to rot around her body as she stared emptily at the stone walls. She waited for death. Nothing could change her mind...no matter how much he begged and pleaded.

“Please!” He stroked her rough eyelid, thoughts racing for any excuse for her to stay with him. To not leave him alone. “Isn’t there something you still have to teach me?”

His hand falls away as a lazy violet eye cracks open. It’s bigger than his head and the pupil focuses so achingly slow. “You’ve known all since you turned twelve, my pet. Our race never repeats themselves, not with memories like ours.”

“B-But I need–”

“You have my hoard, you will not go without means. You have my brain, you will do well and even thrive. You have a territory, a perfect environment for your future form and most of all you possess a purpose to keep your heart beating. Even if it is as ridiculous as looking after those silly humans. I am satisfied...now let me die in peace.”

“No please, m-mother, stay with me.”

“Oh, my darling. One day you will understand. Our love...is a terrible thing.”

And with that she stopped responding. Tim reasoned, screamed, cried while the reflection of his distraught face became clear in those unblinking glassy eyes. His throat raw as he hit and scratched uselessly at the black scales going grey, like the ashy rock dripping behind them until the camouflage of her skin was truth and she was stone.

Like all dragons when they die.

That’s how Timothy Drake inherited Gotham, sobbing on his knees as the refuge became a crypt.

It takes several years before Tim raids another grave...his father’s.

After all, Mother would appreciate his skeleton crystallizing next to hers. She would have liked that.

Timothy still loves his Mother.

It's a slow night and Jason’s gonna explode. He's stopped four muggings, seven car thefts, and a couple of kids trying to make a molotov cocktail. Okay, Jason felt bad at stopping the last one, come on what is he turning into? A twitchy cop? Geez, let kids be kids and fuck the police. He’s about to shoot his own damn foot for some excitement when he sees something in the corner of his eye as he hits the next roof.

Oh-ho? In the curve of hanging gargoyles menacingly scowling at those is a hint of red that tugs a smirk on Hood’s lips.

Replacement.

Well, alright, he hasn't meant that name in a bad way for a while. It's not like Jay wants to carve a new one in Mr. Serious anymore. Sure, he’s an annoying prude with the biggest stick up his ass, hangin’ off Bats’ every word like the good guard dog, the good tool he is, but, hey, he ain't a bad guy. Saved Jay from enough pinches that he feels right and guilty about the whole almost bleedin’ him out thing. So he makes it up the only way he can..with tough love. Plus, the more Jay can shake that Babybird nice and loose, the better. He takes in the former Robin’s figure, how he’s hunched in upon himself. His head of black resting on his knees as the crouch tucks him right under one of the silent stone guardians.

Babybird snoozing on the job? Have some shame.

Not that Jay has any of that. He barely stops himself from snickering, giving himself away when the helmet goes static for it, and creeps closer. Close enough to get the best view of the little shit’s face. It takes a Bat to sneak up on a Bat, you know. A grin spreads wide on his cheeks as he pulls his gun from his holster (it’s only rubber bullets now, calm the fuck down) Then, he aims to the sky and fires.

The crack of the bullet gives Jay the most beautiful flinch and jerk you ever did see–

Boom.

–but the returning blast of burning hot possible death that floods the ledge is not.

It takes every scrap of speed he has to not singe his fucking eyebrows off. It’s more fire than force, but thank Batman for quick reflexes and the tell tale click near Red.

“What the hell, Babybird?” Smoke billows, curling around the two and Jason coughs, waving his arms madly.

“I could say the same for you, asshole.” In the black mess, a spark sputters between Tim’s teeth, just like an annoying lighter that flickers and hurts your thumb the more you try, as he tries to control his shaky breathing. Inhale. Damn, that really startled him. Exhale. His fangs sink into his lower lip, drawing blood over the rude awakening. He shakes his head like a dog, forcing what was sharp canines into blunt square human teeth. “Gunshot really? Gosh, you always have to be a dick, don’t you?”

“Do you always have to throw something flashy when ya wake up? Ain’t that Robin’s way?” Jason brushes his clothes, disgruntled. He didn’t see a flash grenade or anything, but Bats right? More prepared than a Girl Scout.

“Maybe.” Tim wonders how long he’s going to get convenient excuses.

“What? Ya sleep with them or something? Didn’t know ya needed a teddy bear, Replacement.”

Tim smirked, “Oh, come on, Hood, didn’t you learn to let sleeping dragons lie?”

“Ha, ha. Whatever, call it a night, you pyromaniac piece of shit.” Jason puts his gun away and fishes for a peace offering under his collar. He thrusts the white cigarette at the other, “Smokes?”

“Not right now, Hood.”

“Your loss, Replacement.” Jason lights it, dragging a puff to cover up a pout. Hmpf, stuffy princess. Doesn’t drink with him (I’m not legal to drink, Jason). Never smokes with him (We have set an example to Damian, Jason). Jay should be offended cause nowadays Tim carries the hazy scent round like a club’s perfume and Jay knows he’s hiding the good stuff somewhere.

He’s just never seen Tim do it.

Tim observes the turn of Jason’s mouth and jerks his head towards the street below, “Not smokes, but you hungry enough for hotdogs?”

“This is Gotham, baby, when I am ever not down for hotdogs?”

The two shoot their grappling lines towards a vendor who’s too used to this shit to give one. But as Tim rattles off their order, something itches at Jason. Something that’s off.

(The Gargoyle they left above bares new marks along its side. The side that Jason couldn’t see. They were not chiseled in, but Tim is sure most wouldn’t notice the new additions.)

Whatever.

He’ll figure it out.

Timmy’s been sleeping more.

Dick is so grateful he wipes at an imaginary tear, sniffs, and whips out his phone to snap a picture again. Tim doesn’t snore, but that’s definite drool on his chin, nicccccccce. Dick takes in the scene and gets another shot from a different angle. He almost has a full album now titled, Behold the Cryptid Sleeps, it’s only fair after all the pictures Tim took of them when he was their cutest little stalker. For now, Dick just calls it karma and texts Babs to back the good stuff up.

But, okay, Dick admits it’s starting to get weird.

And Timmy’s sleeping habits have always been weird. Before he had stolen Bruce’s crown and title of Sleep Dep King. Working on case after case, day after day only to finally pass out, usually with something like,

“How many days does it take to start hallucinating again, Bruce?”

“...Three.”

“Huh, so that’s why you’re purple with seven eyes.”

It usually takes a lot to get Timmy to crash and burn into a bed, usually (always) in the form of Alfred and good food laced with sedatives. It’s not that Timmy doesn’t know that they’re in the food, it’s just that no one says no to Alfred Pennyworth. No one.

But now it’s like Tim is on an egg timer and it’s wonderful.

After about 24 or 26 hours, against his will, Timmy starts swaying on his feet and lurches grumpily towards a safe, soft spot to snooze. True, Dick notes sometimes they’re odd places, like underneath the desk of the bat computer, nestled in much of the wiring. Or head resting on the kitchen table, his angry eyes drooping with, “I don’t understand. Coffee has failed me, Alfred.”

“Our bodies change over time, Master Timothy. One cannot expect caffeine to sustain them forever.”

“You’re...lying. You did something to the coffee, admit it!”

“I have not...this time.”

“You must have I...can’t even–” But Tim doesn’t get to finish the response.

“Master Dick I believe Master Timothy needs to be escorted to his room. If you would–” Alfred leaves the sentence open, because anytime Dick can hold an unconscious, not struggling brother? You know he’s all over that.

Bruce has even started to prioritize breaks in the patrol schedule for Tim. Or, to be more accurate, he’s encouraging (enforcing) Tim to use the breaks that have always been there.

But…really the switch in the dynamic is kinda odd, especially when Dick finds Tim on one of the Manor’s couches after patrol, his skin paler than milk and shivering in his sleep. When the room is set to 75 degrees….and he’s under at least five blankets.

Dick pads over and cups the younger vigilante face in two hands. “Holy Batman, Timmy, you're as cold as ice.” His brow furrows when Tim barely responds to the statement, his eyes half open to blurrily peer at Dick. That’s not a good sign. Plus, he’s is not kidding. Tim’s skin is cool to the touch, it could compete with one of the dripping stalagmites in the cave.

“S’cold Dick…and tired.” The words push out of his lips clumsily. He raises his arms to grasp the Dick’s wrists as if he was going to push the hands off his cheek and then just forgot. The heat’s too inviting. “Just need sleep, m’fine.”

“I think you're a liar that lies, Babybird.” Dick leans back only to pull the covers off enough to slip beside Tim onto the couch. He tugs the boy in with an arm until Tim's head finds a comfy spot on his shoulder. Heck yeah, it's cuddle time. The best way to share body heat ever. He looks around the den and sees the remote for the T.V. It takes a few tries to stretch in a way to get it, especially without moving too far from Tim, but Dick’s not an acrobat for nothing.

Tim huffs a weary laugh against Dick’s neck, “Well, I'm the guy that lies to Batman, you know.”

“Shhhhhhh, he’ll hear you.” Dick pats Tim’s hair, starts clicking channel after channel (a thousand channels is just not enough) for something to watch.

“M’good, you can go.” Tim didn’t expect it would take so long for his core to normalize. Fire might smoulder under his breast, but damn it, it’s sucking most of the heat from his extremities. To his calculations, it may be months before his body can adjust to the change...if ever. Tim can already imagine the mountain of clothing he’ll need for Gotham’s winter. Mother got away with it by layering and calling in fashion. How is Tim going to spin it when he’s jumping off roof-tops fat with every wool item he can find? Oh. Or he could design heaters in his clothing. That could work. But still, this is the reason why most drakes live near volcanoes. Temperature regulation is a bitch.

Dick hums above him and breaks Tim’s line of thought. Oh well, he guesses he’ll stay here for a bit longer, just until he thaws out and stops being an Tim-icicle. It’s not that Dick minds, right? He fades away at the sound of a bad romantic comedy playing in the background.

He doesn’t see the frown on Dick’s face.

Or hear him quietly whisper into his com, “Alfred, could you run some tests for me?”

Alfred would have a conniption.

“Drake, you wretched slob.”

Damian must see to it that the competent butler never visits the former Robin. Ever. The man is old and truly must be spared from any health issues that may occur from witnessing this vile display of chaos. In fact, Damian wishes he could spare himself from the scene, yet Father did request him to fetch the evidence and Dick is off planet. How dare he.

Damian squints pass the entrance only to flinch back. There in the dark, two pinpricks of purple follow his every move...and hiss.

The Robin swallows and forces the door open all the way, allowing the dim light from the basement to flood the room. There are no light switches. It’s...odd. The boiler hums nearby explaining the heat that’s almost sweltering. Heaps of objects litter the floor, making narrow pathways here and there. Fortunately, food must be absent in the debris since the smell lacks rot. Instead what perfumes the air is what Damian associates with his predecessor, the smell of spices burned with a touch of something chemical. Gasoline, perhaps? Damian’s breathing finally evens out when he spots a mess of black hair poking out from a mountain of bedding.

Blearily, Tim focuses on the intruder. “Damian? What are you doing here?” he sleepily grumbles.

Though Grayson might find the tone endearing, Damian does not.

“I have come for the Spear of Enue. Father requires it and has requested me to retrieve it from you. He said it was in your possession?”

“B needs to leave my stuff alone.” Tim sits upright, staring emptily for a moment and clearly displeased about being awake. Then, with a groan he sluggishly works himself out of the bedding. “But a case is a case, I guess. Yeah, I have it, just give me a sec to get it.”

“The spear is here?”

A hum. “Sure, it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

Well, at least Drake seems more amenable when half-awake. Robin crosses his arms and strives not to look too haughty. Usually collecting data from the older vigilante takes more coaxing (threats) and persuasion (heavy bickering) to get the desired result. Perhaps he should lend his assistance.

“Drake, where are your lights? Two pairs of eyes would obviously be quicker than one.”

“Lights?” A confused tone. “Why would I need lights? I can see just fine.”

“Tch, I’m surprised you can locate anything in this outrageous dump.”

“Mother always said I was a messy hoarder, but I have a strong belief that mess is a matter of perspective. Besides, I know exactly where everything is.”

Tim slinks out of bed and makes his way toward a pile that seems to have earned the category of lethal and shiny weapons. Damian attempts to move towards the same direction, but his foot hits an item and he just manages to make the trip look intentional. Of course, Drake was not even looking. Wait.

“Drake, is that my katana?” He points to the hilt barely poking out from the bottom, half of the weapon slithering from under the bed.

It’s a silly habit that Tim can’t shake from childhood to put the most prized things under his bed, like the old cardboard box full of pictures, a few stacks of spanish golden doubloons marked from a toddler’s teething, a cursed ruby the size of a skull, you know the usual.

“...Yes?” Tim’s head bobs up from his search and glances over at the weapon. Then, he pauses for a moment or two, his expression shifting so fast (Mine, not mine, mine, not mine) that Damian cannot place it, “Oh, sorry. I guess you’d want that back. I mean, of course you do, it belongs to you, I only had it because you were gone and–”

Drake cuts off, making no movement towards the old katana. Damian reasons it must have been acquired while he was not among the living. He doesn’t know how to feel about Drake keeping that kind of memento, yet he notes there is a definite lack of rage that usually accompanies such a theft. In addition, Drake looks like a petulant child.

“It does not matter. I no longer require a child’s katana.” Damian waves a hand to the other heaps. “The spear, however, Drake, Father needs immediately.”

“Right.”

It is then he notices Drake’s unusual attire. The vigilante groggily separates the pile for what Damian seeks in boxers and a baggy Gotham U sweatshirt that keeps sliding over a white shoulder. How peculiar, Drake never went to college so why...ah, yes, Dick. But what really has Damian’s brows rising is the two thick watches on Tim's wrist. One that he's definitely seen on his father once before and a glint of something shiny peeking from the sweatshirt.

“Do you often sleep in diamonds, Drake?”

“They're nice to look at before bed,” Tim muttered absentmindedly.

“Is that a slogan for this new fashion statement?” Damian walks over and curiously pulls down the collar to look at it more closely. Many of the gems are larger than an egg as they lace together in the metal filigree. It covers a wide band over Drake’s collarbones before cascading towards his sternum in delicate chains. “This piece is familiar to me. Drake, are these the jewels we recovered from Catwoman?”

“One, I demand the fundamental human right to always be pretty, witty, and gay. You’ll understand when you’re older. Two, I bought these from that auction fair and square, so Selina should have keep her mangy paws off them.”

Suddenly, Damian remembers that specific tackle to take down the thief had been...more enthusiastic and vicious on Drake’s part. Usually Father is the one to handle any incidents with her, but perhaps all it takes is emotional investment to pin down the slippery woman.

Tim pries off Damian’s fingers only to press what he seeks in them. “Here, the spear. Now, get out. If you’re gonna mock and insult me, I want four more hours of sleep first.”

The spear is heavy, but Damian manages with a tilt to this lips. “Very well, I’ll skin and eviscerate you later, Drake.”

Drake snorts. “And, hey, you have a spear and everything. All you have to do is be knighted and we’d have the perfect fairytale set up. Farewell, Sir Brat.” He waves to the door before collapsing onto the bed, preparing his nest the way he wants it.

Damian watches the ritual all the way to the door. Stops to take in the scene one a final time. It’s strange, but it does seem like a lair from one of his grandfather’s monster stories. Dark, warm like a breathing thing, full of hidden treasure...and danger.

How right he is.

But he comes to the realization later...much later.

Bruce has seen a lot.

He’s fought aliens on ships millions of lightyears from Earth and tangled with kraken under the sea. He’s negotiated with Circe for Diana’s sake and fed viruses to ruin robot armies for Clark’s. He’s handled witches, sorcerers, and time-travellers from around the world. Every night he tries to plug one of Gotham’s bleeding holes as they gush out the vile and the crazy with the Joker, Ivy, Harvey, and more.

Bruce has seen a lot.

But the universe keeps surprising him one way or another. And sometimes? Closer to the heart then he expected.

“So, you’re the drake that rejected my proposal.”

“And you’re the dame that didn’t even bother to show up to make it.”

Bruces eyes flicker back and forth between his third son and the young, literally steaming woman in front of them. Her pale white hair whips behind her like something alive. The villain of the month does the same. Apparently, Gotham has the perfect waterfront property for the taking, especially with the leyline that cuts right through the city or so the warlock just finished monologuing about.

“What are you doing? I said destroy them.” The fuming sorcerer demands pointing at the Bat-clan. Golems rise in various stages around them being the only opponents beyond the man and woman. They’re all near the Manor by the beach, a few miles from the city but even with the home field advantage...Bruce feels a thread of concern to see Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian joining him to put their backs against the cliff face below his family home.

“Just a moment, Master, I have some unfinished business to attend to.” The woman raises a hand and starts to undo her cloak.

“Master? My, my.” Tim flicks his bo to the side. It’s not going to be useful here. Ugh, this is not how he wanted this to go. “Just how low has your line fallen? Mother was right to refuse to even consider you as a candidate. Do you follow his every command or do you just lick his boots?”

“How. Dare. You.” The woman’s eyes glow yellow and her voice’s pitch becomes grating.

Tim snorts. “Look at you. You can’t even control your shift….pathetic.”

“Red Robin, the situation, now.” Bruce tries striking another golem, but Tim ducks to put himself between the Bats and the newcomers.

“You judge me, when you wear human flesh so much that you stink of it? Your true scent barely bleeds through.” The odor of rancid sulfur strikes the air. The woman peels off her clothes, layer by layer until a pile litters the sand. “Half-breed.”

Rude. The human and dragon are both his scents. Tim thinks he smells fine, thanks.

“I said–” The villain tries to command but the dame strides towards Red Robin.

“How are you different from me? The warlock will save my line and give us power, but you? You play at human.”

“I do what I want,” Tim icily states. “Which is more that I can say for you. Now get out of my territory or burn.”

“No, I think I’m going to put a male in his place. Beneath me.” And the woman lets out a cry that turns into a roar. The other Bats watch as the woman’s form hutches over, makes a terrible crack and then grows. And grows. And grows. Scales take shape as her neck elongates and it’s sickening. Before them a white dragon rises and crashes a claw on the beach. It’s the size of a house.

‘Well…’ Bruce thinks. ‘That’s something new.’

“A dragon, come on. You have to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Jason snarls, shooting at the beast. The rubber bullets do nothing but irritate the overgrown Godzilla-wanna-be.

“Wait, it gets better,” Tim mutters. “So, burn it is. This is why we can’t have nice things between dragons. What a pity...bring it.”

And there is a collective gasp.

Because Tim smirks and the beach is overcome with a violent blast. When the smoke clears...there’s nothing?

Nothing but the golems on the beach, the Bats fighting them and the warlock hissing out commands to a white giant worm, who is diverting much from his cunning plan.

But no Tim.

The white dragon shrieks in fury and raises her giant wings, preparing to crush those on the sand when something large slams into her side. She lurches over and peers over her shoulder. Nothing. But several of her scales are cracked from the impact.

Then, it’s as if thunder booms right in front of them, making their eardrums ring from the force of the sound. Under the blow, the white worm topples forward attempting to steady herself.

It’s shadowy and massive, a heavy body and the thumping beat of wings. It’s slowly moving into the moonlight on the beach, kicking up sand.

The Bats shields their eyes even with the whiteouts down, the gust knocking into kevlar and nomac. Nightwing automatically throws an arm out to keep Robin from falling; Hood makes an unconscious grab to the other arm.

And when he lights down, massive razor-tipped claws digging into the sand, the black scales and shiny leather of wings give the Bats one hell of an answer to all those burning questions.

Timmy’s always cold.

The cave, the hoard.

The night vision.

The ever-ready exploding “pellets”.

All of it comes to a sudden dawning realization.

The baddie of the night looks from one dragon to the other, trepidation leaking in because who would have thought two dragons at once.

Low muttering, winding a spell even as the new dragon throws back his power neck and roars. It shakes them down to their very bones, a sound unlike any they’ve heard before.

The shift of muscle, dark eyes narrowing, and the first lunge is punctuated by the abrupt cries of the Bats who have come to the realization this is one of their own.

But there’s no pause when claws come up to strike, when the first is a good one, raking into his side, putting his first blow into soft underbelly, close to the intended target.

(Only one way to kill a dragon, the heart has to go.)

“Motherfuck--Tim!” But Hood can do nothing but watch the blood, ripe and rich in the night splatter the beach, hoping stupidly it ain’t all Red’s.

“Get to the sides!” the Batman roars, already moving, already reaching for the next weapon in his belt.

He sees the opening when both dragons rear up on hind legs for the next blow, his gauntlet spitting out flash pellets.

It’s go time as the rest of the Robins take it all in and move. Robin pulls a duck and dodge through legs with a batarangs ready for the baddie on the other side.

Hood pulls a whole lotta how ya’ doin’ when the .45s spit a few rubber bullets right on the gouge marks, sliding through the sand as the bigger dragon leans down to latch teeth into Tim’s neck and hold the fuck on.

Nightwing leaps, even with the sand trying to bog him down, both sticks out in a double blow at the exposed weakness behind the white dragon’s ear. He has enough time to cringe at the sound of pain tearing into the night, to see the gleam of claws sinking into her belly in a knee-jerk reaction.

The fight going on behind them, the golem starting to shift and move at the sorcerer’s botched command, and Robin just breathes out a deep damn sigh because honestly, some of us have homework to dumb down. But he shifts, pulling out pellets in rapid succession as he moves closer to the army. The abrupt, “huu,” is just more proof he is a superior marksman. The mental note to pick up the tome from which those accursed spells emanate from is another task on the night’s to-do list.

The abrupt shock of Nightwing’s stick and the barrage of bullets takes its toll, getting the white dragon to jerk away from that black jugular, to rear back with pain.

The claws sink deeper, Red growling low, smoke curling from his maw. His eyes slide to the sides, making sure the Bats are out of firing range before he opens his maw with that familiar and suddenly very telling click.

“Down!” It’s Batman that throws the last exploding batarang within range to the white dragon’s injured belly, so the blast of burning blue flame ignites, sets the soft, vulnerable innards to char.

Red, however, takes the last blow for his own (because she picked the wrong fucking city, the wrong family, the wrong dragon to fuck with), claws sinking in, and the meaty thump in the center is just at the right place to reach.

Low and huffing, “try me.”

“You wouldn’t,” her voice cracks from agony.

“Threaten what’s mine, and I won’t think twice.” He gives just the smallest squeeze to punctuate the point.

“Better not fuck with him, bitch,” Hood’s voice, lazy through the synths while he eyes the army Demon is gonna be taking on, “he ain’t one ta joke.”

The white dragon growls and the iridescent black dragon can feel her tensing up as if to give her last hurrah, to go out with a bang, but he’s having none of that. He snarls, the sound deep from within his chest as he snaps his jaws just in front of the dame’s face, sparks clicking behind his gleaming ivory teeth. “You should know,” he practically purrs, “there are fates worse than death. Don’t. Push. Me.” His words, his threat (a bluff, shh), thankfully, gets the right reaction. She sags with a trailing growl, eyes glittering with malice and defeat.

“Go. Get out of my territory.” The words leave no argument.

“W-Who…” she spits blood, dotting the sand, “who would want...your...shoddy terr-territory anyway.”

Slowly, he retracts, pulling his claws back while the click echoes against the bluff, a warning and a promise. But the dame doesn’t move to start the fight up again. She needs time to heal the grievous injuries. The mage will earn his own fate.

“And now, next on the list,” Nightwing sighs, looking from the dragon to where Robin has starting whipping out the tricks and traps on the moving golem.

“By the way, Timmers,” Hood’s neck cranes as he look up at the massive face hanging low, the chest heaving with that little scuffle. “You ever think, hmm, I dunno to say you might be a motherfucking dragon or some shit? I mean, don’t they say that shit right off the fucking bat?”

The dragon huffs down at him as Hood holds up a hand to demonstrate, “‘nice ta meetcha. Name’s Timmy. Like long flights ‘round the beach, beatin’ the shit outta assholes, and literally roasting my enemies.

Ya know, just the usual shit for Gotham.”

#Dragon Tim #my writing #tim drake #batfamily #I'm tired #iphoenixrising is awesome and helped with the fighting scene #allseer is a sweet beta too

98 notes · View notes

renaramblesaboutcomics · 7 years

Text

Wednesday Roundup 11.10.2017

It’s that time of a week again where I prove to be nothing if not a complete glutton for punishment, which apparently includes having way too many trades preordered on the same week by magical coincidence. It’s like the old saying, when it rain it pours. And sometimes it’s just ridiculous.

But we’re seeing the closing a few storylines, the beginning of a few, and just a general large array of comics at our disposal, including more of the Marvel Primers. So I say we just dig right into it.

Marvel’s All-New Wolverine, Marvel’s Amazing Spider-Man: Renew Your Vows, DC’s Batgirl and the Birds of Prey, Marvel’s Captain America, Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy, Marvel’s Immortal Iron Fists, DC’s New Super-Man, Image’s Rat Queens, DC’s Red Hood and the Outlaws, Marvel’s Runaways, Marvel’s Spider-Man: Miles Morales, IDW’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Universe

Marvel’s All-New Wolverine (2015-present) #25 Tom Taylor, Juann Cabal, Nolan Woodard

Will I ever run out of good things to say about All-New Wolverine? No? Good. I wouldn’t want to be dishonest and that would be the only way I’d have negative things to say about my love for this series.

Story: So believe it or not, the relationship between Daken and Laura is something I have desperately wanted to see more of. In the Daken/X-23 crossover they had a few years ago, I really felt like we got somewhere with their relationship, and the bits and pieces since then have really helped my attitude only grow stronger on the subject. So seeing Taylor hint at it growing more in the last arc, and knowing it would be delivered on in this arc has me SO excited about what is to come.

You know. When Daken is around for more than an awesome bar fight that... leads to his dismembered arm being hung from a bridge. THAT old plot device. I’m a little sad to see that Gabby is being left behind (especially since her outfits never cease being adorable and hilarious) but knowing that we’re dealing with Mutant Bigots this time around somewhat made me appreciate that decision. I worry way too much about Gabby to take that at face value.

And then that cliffhanger hits like a freight train and it’s like WHAAAAT. But no like what. Oh my god. Is this real? I know we have to wait a month but. uh. Kudos, Tom Taylor. I am not often surprised by characters seemingly returning from the dead anymore. To say this was not expected is VASTLY underplaying my shock.

Art: There have been a lot of great artists on this title and I don’t think Juann Cabal is an exception to that rule. He has solid character art, lots of good control of backgrounds and paneling, and got pretty inventive with combining flashbacks with Laura’s current travels and actions. And the bar scene with Daken was just fantastic all around like, a simple but highly effective action sequence and I’m really excited to see what action he’ll draw Laura herself in as we carry on.

Marvel’s Amazing Spider-Man: Renew Your Vows (2016-present) #12 Ryan Stegman, Brian Level, Jesus Aburtov

We wrap up another storyline of what has quickly become my favorite Spidey series of the ‘10s and it comes with highest of highs and lowest of lows. And lots and lots of adorable hugs.

Story: I was concerned that with the pacing we had had for this storyline up to this point that there would be a lot of things that would have to be knitted together a bit too tight or not at all, and that definitely seemed to be the case. We flew through this issue with revelations hitting in waves. Ms. January was the villain all along, Normie is suddenly a perfectly normal kid who was just misled, the symbiote is removed from MJ using sonic waves, Annie saves her parents, and just overall there was a lot that happened within this single comic. It all made emotional sense, and the hug between Annie and Normie at the end, bringing their family feud at last to an end, felt completely right.

I liked small callouts like having Liz be the parent Normie needed, the X-Men coming to help the Parker family, and the amazing banter between MJ and Peter, but I think because there was so much fit into this last issue there felt like a bit of continuity bending to make logical sense where the emotions didn’t quite carry us. Like Normie’s... complete change in character. And Ms. January’s apparent obsession/love of Harry and need to avenge him. These things make sense if they fed into each other -- Ms. January’s influence inspiring Normie to cut his mother out of his life even more than she had been already and then feeding him more and more hatred toward Spider-Man by saying that it was his fault. But that doesn’t make so much sense with what we read in the issues before, specifically the issue where Normie took up arms to protect his company and revealed his backstory through his own internal monologue and flashbacks.

So while this confrontation has been 12 issues in the build up, the resolution mostly came... only from this issue. Maybe the last two issues, too, if we’re being generous.

The epilogue confuses me. It feels like Renew Your Vows is trying to wrap itself up and yet I know from solicits that it’s not, but we are justifying a timeskip to eight years in the future so that artists have an excuse to draw a teenage girl in a tighter costume -- I MEAN BECAUSE THEY WANT TO TELL MORE TEEN ORIENTED STORIES OBVIOUSLY. But I worry that this change is going to make what has been a unique take on the Parker-Watson family and turn it into Sider-Girl Lite, which is unfair to everyone all around. Also were they... not operating for those eight years? Why is the new costume a big deal for her eighteenth birthday? How much sense would it make for them to just... suddenly find a way to stop Annie from going out as a superhero with them when the whole point of the past 12 issues is that they couldn’t.

What about Dr. Connors and his son? What about Annie’s additional precognitive powers? Did she end up going to the Xavier institute?

I feel like I was asked to bite off a bit too much in this issue, and as much as I enjoyed it and enjoyed this series, I feel this is a rare storyline where I actually would have preferred an extra issue to set all of this up.

Art: The art is beautiful. Soft and textured but also sweeping and animatic like you would want for any good Spidey story. And considering that there has been a fair rotation of art teams on this book since the first issue, I really appreciate how much they worked toward giving the book a consistent style of its own. It was neat and helped even artist style changes feel coherent still and I’m really interested to see if this dedication to that continues, especially since the epilogue appeared to have a different feel to it.

It’ll be interesting to see next month either way.

DC’s Batgirl and the Birds of Prey (2016-present) #15 Julie Benson, Shawna Benson, Roge Antonio, Marcelo Maiolo

Well, I’m sure for 99% of you this is an unexpected addition to the roster. For those unaware, I have put the first volume of Batgirl and the Birds of Prey on blast on my personal blog @renaroo for having some things I consider to be insufferable in regards to the handling of Barbara and specifically the consistent villainization of Oracle. Which you know, I’m about sick of.

So why am I picking up BoP now? Simple: Cass is going to start appearing regularly beginning with this particular storyline and I will support her here since for finances I’ve had to move ‘Tec to trade wait.

and oh boy. This is. Something.

Story: So there’s this old episode of the animated Justice League series where an Amazon OC standing in for Donna Troy unleashed a plague on Earth that only affected men and it was putting all men in comas and the such and it left the only two women of a seven-person Justice League because of course there were only two women to deal with it and save the world... well half of it. It was broad strokes of feminism as written by men which included Diana being the strawwoman feminist who couldn’t understand if losing men (including her friends???) would doom society and Hawkgirl being the relatable cool egalitarian alien bird woman to be all “guuurrrrrlllll you need to respect men more”. It’s like. The episode i remember the most from my childhood and I hate it with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

Apparently I’m not the only one who remembers it however because that... that is the plot of this storyline. I don’t know why they couldn’t just bring back the ebola plague from Batman: Contagion which was a legitimately good storyline I like but we’re doing the... gender specific plague.

Are they going to address trans men and women? How is this disease preying specifically on men? Is it magical in origin and that why it follows no rules? Why is Lois here? Is Wonder Woman here just because of that Justice League episode?

I don’t know.

I appreciate that we didn’t waste a whole lot of time with Batwoman’s squad duking it out with Babsgirl’s squad over whether or not antiheroes who.... one of which she’s worked with before and... another of which she knows for a fact is... engaged to her cousin. But whatever. Also Steph in her post-Belfry uniform is... going along with this okay. I’m picking too much but there’s a lot of what in those four pages.

I do appreciate that the dialogue seemed to match everyone’s character very well, and Oliver and Dinah were hysterical and lovable together. .... But damn is it difficult to wrap my head around Babs’ character anymore. Like literally falling to her knees and tearing up begging Poison Ivy (who she was friends with in the previous BoP???? which is sitll canon bc they bring it up???) to help because “people she loves” are affected by the disease like. It’s the antithesis of the Babs I knew and was familiar with and admired in the day but. I guess that’s the Babs we have now. And I’m just... supposed to roll with it I guess.

Also enjoyed Helena being a teacher again, that was awesome. Even if her calling up Dick instead of Babs was... still difficult to process but whatever.

Art: It’s good! Really consistent, the lineart was sometimes a little softer than I prefer, but there were varied bodytypes and lots of good action sequences handled concisely enough that it didn’t feel like panel space was wasted. I really enjoyed it overall.

Marvel’s Captain America - Marvel Legacy Primer Page Robbie Thompson, Valerio Schiti

I have been pretty vocal in my disdain for how Marvel has handled Cap for the last two years and I join pretty much everyone in a chorus of “how can you misunderstand something so bad” but at the same time I’m... just tired. And it’s hard to even be excited at the fact that the reign of Spencer is over because it feels like the enjoyment and interest I’ve felt for Cap for all this time is simply used up. which is why a primer like this is really something that I needed. I needed to see a reminder that Cap punches Nazis and Hydra and Marvel -- or at least some people at Marvel remember that still. I don’t want that history gone, cosmic cubed or otherwise. And given Waid and Samnee’s interviews it seems they’re going to push for just that.

Here’s hoping they accomplish it because even these three pages of Cap acting like Cap again was enough to make me smile at least a little.

Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy - Marvel Legacy Primer Page Robbie Thompson, Marcus To

If I was going for snark and snark alone here I would begin and end this with “why is Scott Lang here” because no really why is Scott Lang with the Guardians of the Galaxy. And it’s something I shouldn’t be asking because I really have still -- even in liking the movies as much as I do -- not found myself any more persuaded to read into the space opera stuff over at Marvel. It’s just not something I want in my life right now.

Marcus To’s art is very nice, though, and usually worth it on its own. Even if I’m beginning to notice a touch of samefaceness in the art style At least it’s a very pretty face.

Marvel’s Immortal Iron Fists (2017) #6 (of 6) Kaare Andrews, Afu Chan, Shelly Ghen

Immortal Iron Fists has come to an end and I’m both saddened and yet incredibly enthusiastic about how everything turned out!

Story: So I feel like it should not have taken the better part of 5 issues for me learn that Pei and her friends are sixteen and not... middle schoolers despite how they were drawn and how they acted as way way younger than that. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that... it’s not that they’re drawn or written younger, it’s that it’s that unusual to find an American comic that actually shows teenagers appropriately and that helped me gain a whole new respect for a series that I was already very much enjoying.

Everyone coming together and remembering Pei for the impact we have seen her make in their lives, Pei fully realizing her power as Iron Fist, and the general fun of a huge climactic battle that was a three way fight between Pei, demons, and the Mother of All Dragons is probably one of the most bombastic that can be asked for. And I love that Brenda made a comeback after her truly terrible exit from the finale of Immortal Iron Fist under Andrews, but at the same time don’t... really care for how it wasn’t set until last issue.

All the positives of this story almost make me overlook the unnecessary, though appreciably subverted, kiss of life Pei gives her guy friend and I love that Danny, man serial dater that he is, is flumexed by this turn of events.

Everything is fun and delightful and I really really appreciate how dedicated this comic was from beginning to end to be Pei’s story and not letting that focus escape it the entirety of the six issues.

Also Brenda flying off on the Mother of All Dragons at the end and being like stfu Danny you ruined a good thing was hysterical and I loved it.

Art: There was definitely more production in this finale There seemed to be a lot more variation in coloring and textures, and even the characters seemed to keep almost perfectly on model the entire time. The one distraction of note, though, was that Pei... developed more into a traditional teenager look by the end... by which I mean.... boobs are now a thing and I’m not sure if it was just that she wore thicker clothes throughout the story or if it was because much like myself, the art team realized last issue for the first time that Pei was a sixteen year old and not... twelve. Anyway. It was a little distracting, but the increase in panel variation and high number of action sequences definitely made the story far more fulfilling in my view.

DC’s New Super-Man (2016-present) Vol. 2: Coming to America Gene Luen Yang, Billy Tan, Viktor Bogdanovic

After what felt like a long wait, we join Kenan and the rest of the Justice League of China once more on a bombastic quest as written by Gene Luen Yang. And much like last time, the results are rather unexpected and honestly kind of remarkable.

Story: Going off of my experiences with Yang’s work, I really feel like his passion in storytelling lies in finding the balance between the question of identity and how identity is formed by the cultures that nurtured us and how it is formed by the influences of the cultures around us. I think that was the main focus of American Born Chinese but it really is beginning to shine through Kenan’s adventures here as the New Super-Man and how much of the titular’s character is being drawn from the two huge influences he is feeling -- the pressures and dangers of the Chinese government and culture, and the admiration and sometimes oppressive shadows of the American culture that he is both attempting to copy as Super-Man and attempting to circumvent by finding the focus of his powers in Chinese philosophies and values.

And I think that’s where his supporting cast -- Wonder-Woman and Bat-Man and now also Avery Ho’s take on the Flash -- are really coming into play. While Kenan is being torn back and forth by his responsibilities and his bombastic self-absorption both in his internal conflict and his external conflict of learning the truth of his parents, we are getting a broader exposure to what being a superhero in China means as opposed to the normalcy we’ve come to expect from Western comics.

Bat-Man is just as influenced by his family as Batman, but the pressures are more in the focus on building his exceptionalism and in differing from his sister on whether to stay within a system that robs children of their childhoods and individuals of their sense of self, or to find purpose within that system and excel based upon the traits which only he can bring.

Wonder-Woman, like Wonder Woman, is derived from myth and legend but instead of a Western legacy, it is purely Chinese and her alienation and stand offish nature initially toward the rest of her team only makes that much more sense given what has brought her to her current state. She is a myth, a legend herself, but she is nearly forgotten by the current times -- Kenan even has to be told the story of her origins by Bat-Man -- and her finding the will to fit into a China that is so influenced by external cultures and influences are a struggle we’re only now beginning to appreciate.

And finally, with Flash, a Chinese-American, we’re going to receive yet another wild perspective, and considering Kenan’s already developing friendship with Avery I imagine that this is a perspective that will only receive more focus in stories to come. And I perceive that Yang’s inclinations to reference the struggles of culture and self-identity are going to be explored further here.

All around i greatly enjoyed this volume and am looking forward to the continuation now that Kenan has finally learned the truth about his family. There are a lot of interesting new angles to explore and I hope we do just that.

Art: The art is really reminiscent of Greg Capullo’s run on Batman, but has a whole lot more color and variety breathed into it which I personally really appreciate. The colors do a good job of presenting the differences in everyone’s base personalities and also makes the action sequences easier to follow even as the action itself becomes increasingly complex. The page layouts were fairly reserved considering the DC standard lately, but I personally appreciated it because it kept the focus on the storytelling and in doing so enhanced the nuances therein.

Great work all around, and yet another enjoyable volume.

Image’s Rat Queens (2013-present) Vol. 4: High Fantasies Kurtis J. Wiebe, Owen Gieni, Ryan Ferrier

I only recently jumped on the barge for Rat Queens and I’ve been more than happy with the results of caving to the advice of many friends. Because what is better than female-full cast of hilarious and dramatic DnD like adventures with more swearing than a naval ship? I gotta say, not much!

Story: So compared to the previous volumes, I actually found High Fantasies to feel like it had a lot less at stake. Although part of that may just be that I was somewhat anticipating a Betty-centric volume finally to elevate her out of being the shroom eating comic relief and bring more of the assassination attempts and her outlaw past into the forefront. And that’s clearly a problem of my own expectations and not necessarily the story’s fault itself. That said, the focus on Vol. 4 being on a gender bent loser version of the Rat Queens was pretty funny but also not something I would have thought carried enough weight to pivot as the main plot, but that would be just me.

I do appreciate Braga being in a larger role this time around, and really I wish we could see more less human creatures on the roster in general. It was also a huge heartwarming feeling to have Hannah more comfortable around her Queens and even showing some horns now and then in public. It feels like a huge progression of her character, even as she spends a fair amount of time earning the girls’ ire and.... walking in on naked mayors. As you do.

Basically Vol. 4 isn’t as character centric as the previous volumes have been, but it is a great adventure that feels like a good ol’ fashion DnD campaign with the friends you love at the helm and for fantasy nerds like me that’s more than enough to bring me back into the story.

Art: The art is always spectacular with Rat Queens, but I did find that this volume -- mostly as a result of not going to as many unestablished and important/original locations, did have a significant lack f inventive background use. That’s not always a slam on art, really the art was very good, and I actually am just... happy to not have Upchurch as the artist, honestly. That alone is worth three and a half gold stars. Though the whole controversy there is still my largest apprehension with the series at this point.

DC’s Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016-present) Vol. 2: Who is Artemis? Scott Lobdell, Dexter Soy, Kenneth Rocafort

Okay who authorized this? Who made this comic exist and who made it be actually good?? Because I didn’t and I feel offended at the amount of emotions that were forced upon me in this single volume of a comic written by Scott friggin’ Lobdell of all people. You couldn’t have told me a month ago that I would be enjoying anything that was remotely connected to Scott Lobdell and expect me not to laugh hard enough I’d bring myself to tears.

And yet here we are.

Story: Having learned a bit from how lackluster the attempts of balancing the concentration of the narrative was for his previous incarnations of the Outlaws, Lobdell somehow learned how to, y’know, write an ensemble narrative that is still heavily Jason Todd’s perspective, but does not lose any opportunities to expand on or even concentrate on the stories and character development of Bizarro and Artemis. oth of which are shockingly well handled and shockingly controlled, well paced, and interwoven into each other’s stories.

Like legitimately, did someone nab the Lobdell who wrote decent 90s Marvel comics and put him on this project? Because that feels like the kind of bizarre logic that would seem acceptable at this point.

Now, of course, it’s not perfect. Far from it. But at the end of the day we got an intriguing ongoing story, a team building exercise, Jason’s internal struggle personified both through his inner monologue and flashbacks, but also moments like his sparing of Bizarro whic not only didn’t have overly wordy exposition bringing attention to it, but was strong enough and meaningfully enough that from it alone we could see what Jason couldn’t: he is not as lost, he is not as amoral, and he’s not as cold as he has tried desperately to prove himself to be.

I actually found the take on Artemis and the Bana Mighdall pretty interesting in this retelling, and I like that we have a rogue Amazon as a new enemy for the team.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m super excited to see what will come after this.

Art: There was a range of artists, which is fine, the industry standard of pushing out these comics with the turnaround that they do does cause some disconnect, but for the most part an artist stayed for at least the completionof their storyline and then she was. And overall the trade still fel tconsistent, with some artists just standing out more than other.

Marvel’s Runaways (2017-present) #2 Rainbow Rowell, Kris Anka, Matthew Wilson

The new run of Runaways absolutely blew me away last month by shooting any and all expectations I had right through the skylight and beyond, so a good premise with beloved characters and a set in conflict really leads to a question of how do the pieces fall in order?

Story: I absolutely adore how Gert being the heart and glue of the family is being so blatantly emphasized throughout this (and that Old Lace is back). I also love that... honestly the trauma and lingering horrors Chase and Nico have survived in particular are being treated as real and damning in the eyes of someone who knew them only two years ago already. But most of all I love the emotional balance. Gert’s anger and disappointment are justified, but her crudeness and accusatory nature are also clearly shown as being wrong and too subjective. The important thing to her, and thus to the group, is to come together again. And I love that it is her prime motivation through and through.

That all being said, after such a bombastic first issue, it was a little difficult to have the momentum come to a halt so quickly. I don’t want to be taken wrong, I love issues where comics take their time and really meditate on the characters, their reactions to evens former and to come, and really develop relationships and the such. But it does feel a little unnatural to have that only two issues in when the previous issue was SO incredibly packed.

I’m still fascinated with where we can go from here and very excited to see that Victor, Xavin, and Klara might not be destined to eternal obsecurity like I assumed when the book was first announced.

Art: Honestly I’m still amazed at just how fantastic the art really is in this comci. .It’s SO good and the designs for all the characters are simply gorgeous. Though probably the best thing about all of it is the great coloring we see done here. Top notch.

Marvel’s Spider-Man - Marvel Legacy Primer Page Robbie Thompson, Valerio Schiti

I think I know less about what Marvel plans to do with Miles these days than Marvel knows what to do with Miles, which is horrifying because I just set that bar about as low as it could possibly have gone. But we.... have Rio Morales back which is the big reason I stopped keeping up with Miles to begin with so yay? I don’t know.

I feel like this primer is actually aimed at fans like me who got off the wagon back when the Ultimate title lost most of its steam both from killing off too many of Miles’ personal supporting cast and becoming too much about tertiary cast’s origins and then Peter Parker returning to life and stuff’s weird. This feels like a big neon sign that says “Things are back! The origin’s the same! Do not look behind the curtain!” It makes me curious but also apprehensive at the same time.

also can we get robbie thompson to write miles’ book and bendis let someone else write some books already jfc this was such a relief.

IDW’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Universe (2016-present) Vol. 2 Nick Pitarra, John Lees, Brahm Revel, Ryan Ferrier, Adam Gorham, Sophie Campbell, Bobby Curnow, Pablo Tunica

So unlike the rest of the reviews, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Universe doesn’t really fit my review format since it’s more like a collection of vignettes across the TMNT universe that feed into the main book and each story is written and drawn by a different team, so it wouldn’t have that same cohesion.

As the giant Ninja Turtle fan that I am and probably always will be, I can’t get enough of the mythos and the characters in TMNT, so having a book that has a solid, even meditative point of just exploring smaller stories and little character developments that wouldn’t fit in the very tight and controlled narrative of the main title is something of a perfect godsend to me. I love it in concept and in execution.

One thing I worry about, however, is that there definitely seems to be a lot of stories here that feel necessary to keeping up with the main series. Such as the story of how Alopex and Angel ran into the Toad Baron and escaped -- that was a pretty crucial piece of information for the Eternals storyline a few issues back in the main book. So it feels like more and more, because of how tight and concentrated the main book is, they’re using books like Universe to fill in everything else, including buildup to larger more important narratives. And while that’s fine and even something I enjoy, it’s a move that will really push people to start being more choosy with their books. It’s much like keeping up with Transformers right now, and that tends to lead to some mixed bags. But I suppose we’ll trust and see.

At the end of the day, I have to pick the comics that really stuck with me the most. And while I was a little disappointed by a few titles this week, there was a pretty intense competition between the ones that genuinely caught me and made me really feel while reading them. And I think by that measurement I have to give the Pick of the Week this time around to the conclusion of Immortal Iron Fists. I was so worried about how this story could wrap everything up and it’s with mother flipping dragons that’s how. I love it. I love Pei and I love her being officially adopted by Danny who is TOTAL ridiculous dad now. This is the kind of Immortal Iron Fist I am happy to support.

As far as trades go... wow I for some reason was not anticipating getting slammed as much as I did, but I really didn’t feel like any of the books let me down. They were all pretty amazing and I felt like I also managed to incidentally cover the entire span of comic book genres and types in a matter of two days, which let’s admit it, pretty impressive. I feel like the new releases this week are honestly a harder competition than the single issues but twist my arm, surprising no one nearly as much as I’m surprising myself here, I have to pick Red Hood and the Outlaws for managing to be a comic that... is unexpectedly good and unexpectedly sincere and unexpectedly emotionally motivating in ways that I wish... more comics... were? I just. have a real hard time complimenting Lobdell after tearing his books a new one for..... six years straight now. But... thank you? for writing well? And making me feel things? For Jason Todd, Bizarro, and Artemis? Am I doing this right?

And those are the comics for this week! Did you happen to agree with me? Disagree? Think I missed out on picking up a comic that was good? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

But before I let you go, I have to (yes have to) plug once more:

I have exactly a month to pack up everything I own and move halfway across the country again which is not helping those financial crunches I mentioned before either.

As such, I really would appreciate if you enjoy my content or are interested in helping me out, please check out either my Patreon or PayPal. Every bit helps and I couldn’t thank you enough for enjoying and supporting my content.

You could also support me by going to my main blog, @renaroo, where I’ll soon be listing prices and more for art and writing commissions.

RenaRoo Ko-Fi

RenaRoo Patreon

RenaRoo PayPal

#Rena Roundups #Wednesday Spoilers #SPOILERS #New Superman (2016 )#Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016 )#All New Guardians of the Galaxy (2017 )#Captain America (2017 )#Spiderman (2016 )#Immortal Iron Fists (2017)#Amazing Spiderman: Renew Your Vows (2016 )#All New Wolverine (2015 )#Runaways (2017 )#Batgirl and the Birds of Prey (2016 )#Rat Queens (2013 )

8 notes · View notes

satire-please · 7 years

Text

TimDrakeWeek 2017 Day 2: Childhood/Adulthood DamiTim

Excited to try this with @iphoenixrising, @the-all-seer and @rahndom if they still want to jump and do a day. :D So far it’s been really fun.

Damian outgrew Tim in his fifteenth year.

In that summer to be precise. Though the sun baked the concrete to the point that everyone stayed inside to not fry to death...it had been a very dark summer for Tim.

Damian hadn’t been subtle at all. Anytime Tim stopped by the manor for a chemical analysis, a briefing from B or retrieve a casefile the current robin would stand side by side next to Tim. Look, compare and smirk. In June the brat was about to the bridge of his nose, by August...he was a hair taller.

“A centimeter is more than a hair I believe, Drake.”

“It’s the width of your pinky, now stop gloating.” With a hand, he pushes Damian back slightly. The teen’s been bad with personal space lately. Crowding him against walls before a mission just to prove heights is rude, dude. It’s almost as if the assassin is relishing the fact that now he can look down on Tim physically as well as emotionally.

“I’m just admiring my new perspective. This angle is surprisingly pleasing to me.” See. Tim doesn’t even know why he’s pissed. He should have been resigned the moment the tiny hell child announced Bruce was his father.

Still the fact itches. “Look, I know oxygen is thinner up there, but could you try not to lose too many brain cells?”

“I’ll try, though the weather up here is quite lovely.” Oh Alfred’s Apple Pie, Damians learned puns. Now Tim has to murder Dick. Especially when the smile Damian gives has a touch of fang. “Now come along, father needs us.”

The boy, ‘cause height difference or not that’s what he is, turns away dramatically after beckoning Tim to follow him.

“Worst. Summer. Ever.”

Dick of course makes it worse, “Who’s my shortest adorable brother?” He coos obnoxiously. Like one of those fat women making baby noises at their pet dog. His palms squish either side of Tim’s face and Tim swears to all higher powers that if Dick tries to rub their noses together he’s gonna bite him. “You are! You’re officially the shortest ruthless vigilante in the family now. I should twitter about this...to everyone.”

“If you don’t get your hands off me right now, I’m going to string you in your underwear somewhere for Bab’s viewing pleasure again.”

Dick’s fingers fly off his face as if it’s scalding. “Awwwwww, you don’t have to get that vicious Timmy.”

“I’m always this vicious, you dick. One day my pain will be yours and on that day I’ll will remember this moment and you will be sorry.” Tim promises with spite.

Dick coyly presses a hand over his heart, "Oh Timmy, my darling petite–omph,” Dick could dodge the first strike to his thorax, but not the second. But still he wheezes out, “That would never happen!”

It happens.

“How could this happen?” Tim vindictively snickers at Dick’s cry when Damian hits seventeen. A month away for a mission and now he’s reduced to whining that Damian's not the right size to cuddle anymore. "He doesn't fit under my chin anymore." He sobs, tucking Tim under said chin tighter as Tim repeatedly attacks his kidneys. "And he keeps dragging me along if I hug him from behind. Like my weight doesn't even matter!"

"Ha. Serves you right." Tim twists around to slap his hands on Dick’s face, “Who’s the second shortest vigilante in the family now? It’s you, Dick. It’s you.”

“You’re so meeeeeeeeeean.” Dick wiggles his head closer until their noses smash together, “What did I ever do to get brothers as cruel as you?”

“It’s in your namesake, Dick.” Tim starts struggling in earnest to get away from the clingy hero. He is not a stuffed animal and would very much appreciate if his ‘siblings’ treated him less so. “Or it’s karma. Take your pick.”

Dick grumbles and childishly cheats by using his legs to make the hold more difficult.

Yet as Tim contemplates his fate on the floor in this horrid octopus grip he actually has to admit...Damian has seemed to mellow out?

“Did you forget who’s the senior vigilante here? Just because you inherited B’s monstrous height doesn’t mean you’re any less of a brat Damian.”

Damian taunting sweeps his arm towards the entrance, “My apologies, age before beauty, then again with your delicate bone structure perhaps you would account for both.”

Tim freezes. Is Damian...flirting with him? He shakes his head, nah. Headgames must be another thing the boy’s gained from his crazy family tree. Lately, or not lately, it’s been a gradual thing really, Damian and Tim have done more missions together.

“For efficiency sake.” Damina justifies. As the two of them all a frightening team when they apply their talents together.

Tim skill in logic and ability to place the clues in interesting ways, Damian’s assassin training that makes him a martial arts vistoso. Few enemies can best them when they fight together.

But something's off. Tim can’t nail down the thought with proof yet but…

“Timothy?” He jerks towards at Damian. “Timothy it is time we made our way to the burrows.”

“Timothy? What happened to Drake?”

Oh my dear. It that a slight blush Tim recognizes on Damian’s face? “I have realized that it might be considered rude to refer to you in that manner. After all, you do not call me Al Ghul, do you?”

This is true. “I suppose.”

But later, Tim realizes much later to his faulty skills as a detective, Damian still says Grayson, Todd and Brown with the other members of the family.

Like “Timothy, I’ve brought us some rations. Just because we are reduced to wait for this scum to leave his pithole does not mean we must do it in discomfort.” It’s just a sandwich. But it’s one from one of Tim’s favorite cafes. Tim doesn’t know what to think of that.

Damian’s grown into his father’s monstrous bulk. Still shy of B’s height and an inch or two below Jason yet still informidable. His wide shoulders and dark tan skin have earned him the title, “Sheik” by various gossip magazines.

Not that Tim really pays attention to that sort of stuff.

Nor doesn’t he pretend not to know of how they dub them, “Fire and Ice.” whenever they endure an event together.

"What's going on?" Tim asks bemused. Damian and Kon stand off in the commons area. Kon with his arms crossed in front of his chest, while Damian casually tosses a batarang up and down with one hand. Kon is definitely taller, but there's something deadly in Damian's stance. Like a snake coiled to strike.

"Pissing contest." Cassie says gleefully, grabbing a fist of popcorn before shoving the bag at Tim. "They've been at it for 14 minutes now and it's glorious."

Suck, diplomacy with the Titans and Dami has always been iffy. Once you attack their 'bird' you tend to go on their people-okay-to-drown-at-lunch list. It's a big list. Garth was excited to announce that Tim's list was currently the largest.

"Why didn't anyone get me?”

"Because it's about you." Bart hooks his elbow through Tim's and supports him, which is completely unnecessary, to limp and slouch on the couch. "The dude just showed up demanding to see you, that Bats needs your mad skills with forensics and crap but Kon thinks, it'd be nice if you were off crutches before getting broken again you know?"

"I'm not broken."

"Your leg begs to differ." Raven materializes beside him from the shadows. She really should teach Tim how to do that, he's just saying. Raven digs into the popcorn bag still in Tim's possession to get a satisfying crunch. "If I recall correctly, you shouldn't even be out of bed."

Damian whips his head to their direction, "Timothy is this true?

Crap. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Says the idiot whose tibia is in three pieces.” Kon grumbles straightening his back to make himself even more imposing to the intruder, but Damian’s eyes are glued on a different target. He drops the posturing act to walk to Tim and falls to a knee in front of him. Carefully, he lifts the neon pink cast, ‘cause real men wear pink, that’s littered with inappropriate comments from his team.

“Yes, that does seem to fit into the category of a ‘big deal’ Timothy.” He chides running his fingers over the names on Tim’s calf.

Tim bristles. “It does not. Besides, even benched, grown-up vigilante here, I can still do casefiles and computer work just fine, what does B need?”

“Hmmm, my father needs another to look over a heist note the Riddler is fond of making. Yet perhaps I should turn to different source.” Damian looks around and fishes for a marker on the coffee table. He gently lifts the limb to rest on his thigh, begins to write. “Maybe one that will allow himself to heal properly.”

“Damian. Al Ghul. Wayne.” Where’s his crutches? He’s going to beat this twerp over the head. Give him something else that’s broken to worry about. Bart buries his face into Tim’s shoulder to muffle his snickers. It doesn’t do much.

Dami finishes adding to the mess of ink before nodding to himself. “I’ve decided. I’ll give you the datapad after you gain an hour of rest.” He says staring up at Tim without compromise.

“What? No.”

“Or I’ll put Alfred on the com and inform him of your unfortunate situation.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Only if you consider it to be so.” Why yes Tim considers it to be so. Motherhen Alfred is a terrible nightmare to behold. No one can escape his clutches once he knows a Bat is harmed, doesn’t matter how old you are or where you are, he will find you. He will drown you in blankets, food and sedatives. And he has full access to the Tower. Garth is very fond of his vegetarian alfredo pizza.

“He’s got you there, Red.” Kon calls out, hands on his hips with a smug expression. The tension that once electrified the room is gone, but Tim almost misses it. Then maybe everyone in the room would stop ganging up on him.

“Do we agree or disagree?” Damian presses.

“We agree that this is shameless blackmail and I hate you.” Tim hisses out.

Damian’s voice turns warm and satisfied. “Good. Now let’s get you back into bed.” He then worms his hands under Tim’s knees and lower back and lifts. Like Tim weighs nothing at all.

“I have crutches. Like right there. Cassie get my crutches.”

“Nope. Red’s room is on the top floor, by the way.” She has a hand pressed to her mouth, grinning like a loon. As if the best sight she’s seen all day is Tim carried like a princess. Then where’s his tiara, dammit?

“Thank you.” Damian gives a curt bob of his head and turns to go with the fussy man. The last thing the team sees is the elegant black scrawl on their Rob’s cast.

Please protect this foolish treasure - Damian

Yeah, maybe the Titans can trust their bird in these hands….just maybe.

It all comes to a head during a mission, they almost get caught in an explosion. Why can’t clowns stay away from fire? And Damian had tackled him to the ground and covered him against the flare of heat that licked their backs.

In the rubble, Damian lifts himself to stop crushing the smaller man. Their faces are close, Tim notes with his heart in his throat. They breath the same air and Damian's eyes flicker to his lips. To the inch barely separating them, all he’d would have to do is drop his head...just a little for them to meet.

“Damian?” The boy, no man in question drags his gaze to meet Tim's stare.

“Tell me to stop.” And slowly, achingly, he closes the distance between them. Tim can't move. Doesn't dare to as Damian kisses him gently. Almost excruciatingly so. It's a barely a press, so hesitant though it lasts for several long seconds...or years, Tim can't tell. Damian doesn't close his eyes the entire time and Tim is hypnotized, can't break the hold of that connection even when Damian reluctantly pulls back.

His brow furrows and it's a ridiculously adorable look on the oversized teen. “You did not tell me to stop.” He says confused.

“I didn't tell you stop period.” That earns Tim a cracked smile. It's so cute, Tim can't help but lean up to peck him square on the mouth. When Damian jerks to the side in surprise, He snorts and breaks into laughter.

His arms slowly squeezed around Tim’s waist, as if in disbelief that he was there in Damian’s lap. It was tentative, but definitely a conscious action. Then reluctantly Damian unraveled his grip and cradled Tim’s hips in his palms. The fire blazed from yards away but the heat that races up Tim’s spine isn’t coming from the destruction. Then with barely an effort he lifted Tim straight up to place him back on his feet.

It’s casual, smooth and Tim hates to admit it...impressive.

“Are you alright, Timothy?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“A little singed, nothing more.”

“Okay, I have to know. Have you flirting been with me this entire time?” Tim asks blunt as a rock.

“Oh good.” Damian ducks his head away from the other vigilante, as if he’s too embarrassed to look at him. “I was becoming concerned that you would never notice my advances.”

A raspy voice buzzes in from the com, “Yeah, we thought the world would end first.”

“Jason if you ruin Dami’s confession, I will cut you.” Dick hisses and Tim decides that the rest of this conversation is better done off grid.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere where there isn’t a raging firestorm or snooping eavesdroppers around.”

“Indeed.” Damian’s agrees warmly and when he wraps his arm gently around Tim, smiling down at him like that? Well, Tim finds that he doesn’t mind the height difference anymore.

Not at all.

#timdrakeweek #tim drake #damian wayne #damitim #my writing #dick grayson #bat fic #cute and fluffy

588 notes · View notes