Latest Posts by elowenp - Page 5

Balancing Act

Talia al Ghul has always lived a precarious life.

You would think it would have been the training that had pulled at her in those early years. That tore at her. As soon as she was capable of critical thought it had been made clear to Talia that anything less than perfection was not an option.

This had suited her well enough though. Perfection had always come naturally to Talia.

No. It was the deference that had turned survival into a balancing act.

‘Yes, Father’ ‘No, Father’ ‘Of course, Father’. Talia is loyal to her bones, but did it have to be so performative? Did they really have to pretend this hard that her father’s better than her?

Even as a teenager she scoffs at the thought. It’s hardly like anyone could be foolish enough to believe such a lie.

~

Later she meets Bruce. Then the balancing act begins to concern loyalty rather than pride.

Talia has always been perfect and loyal and gifted at living on a knife edge; her father’s blade on one side and some different oblivion on the other. But knowing Bruce brings challenges she hadn’t foreseen.

He’s good. She thinks.

Talia isn’t sure if she’s ever thought that about anyone before.

The pull she feels towards him is something she can’t ignore. It causes the bonds she holds with her father to fray, to weaken. She won’t cut anything yet but Talia is beginning to think that the current situation is untenable.

She has always despised weak things. She will not hesitate to rid herself of such ties.

~

There’s a baby growing in Talia’s stomach.

It’s Bruce’s. She knows it’s Bruce’s. This fact makes her feel a warmth she hadn’t thought herself capable of but it brings with it danger.

She can feel the weight of the child’s legacy pulling at her. It’s a heavy thing, to join the bloodline of an al Ghul with the monster that lurks in Gotham City’s shadows. It’s something Talia thinks might hold greater weight than even her own legacy, if that’s possible.

As her stomach grows and the life inside with it, Talia starts to feel that weight. The heaviness of the body inside her own.

She thinks that this wonderful burden might be what stops the balancing act. What pulls her down from the sharp place where she’s managed to survive for so long.

Talia decides that it’s a change she’s going to embrace.

“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?” the Joker says, quiet. When Bruce doesn’t answer he starts to laugh. He laughs so hard and so long that it becomes the only sound that Bruce can hear. He laughs so hard that he has to spit out blood before he speaks next. “You’re actually going to kill me. Aren’t you Batsy?” he grins.

They both know the answer but Bruce says it anyway. For the finality of it.

“Yes.”

It’s an ending.

~

Jason’s death is where it starts.

Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe it starts in a circus where two dead bodies lie broken on the floor and their son breaks in a very different way above them. Maybe it starts when a man decides that to take justice into his own hands is the only means by which his city will survive. Maybe it starts with a different set of dead bodies in an alleyway a lifetime ago.

Maybe it started when the first brick of the city that would become Gotham was laid.

But Jason’s death was certainly a beginning. Not of anything good, of course, but a beginning none the less.

~

Dick doesn’t talk to him anymore.

It hurts Bruce. Touches him in a way that few things since his parents death have. It opens him up to a loneliness he had thought was in his past.

He might have done something about it if everytime he looked at Dick he didn’t see a waking corpse. If Bruce hadn’t watched from the sidelines as his son morphed into a reminder of all the ways the universe is yet to use to make him suffer.

Dick doesn’t talk to him anymore and Bruce lets him.

~

Tim keeps popping up. Trying to convince him that he’s going to cross a line. It seems like he can’t quite comprehend the fact that Bruce doesn’t care anymore.

“Go home.” He says. Tim’s energetic and untrained and very much neither of Bruce’s sons. Bruce is grateful for the way his eyes shine with enthusiasm since it helps him remember that the boy he’s talking to is alive.

Tim smiles as he says no.

“Go home.” Bruce insists and Tim continues to refuse.

The way he sees Tim all the time, the way the boy makes it his business to keep Batman company, feels like the middle of a story. Bruce knows it in his bones. That something was the beginning (Jason’s death or two bodies on the ground or the grate of bricks on bricks on bricks) and this is the middle. He also knows that there’s going to be an ending far too soon.

“People don’t finish growing up and stay near me.” He tells Tim, trying to get him to go away with different words this time. “Your endings are leave me alone or die.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Says who? You and your grand sample size of two?”

“Go home.” He repeats, returning to his default response.

“No”. Tim repeats. He sounds like he’s enjoying this.

Bruce despises the fact that it only makes him like the boy more.

~

There’s an Arkham escape. The Joker gets out. He’s currently killing people.

None of these facts are surprising.

Bruce fights him and takes him down after he’s only ruined a couple of lives. It’s still far too many but it’s also far fewer people than he would have destroyed without Bruce there to stop him.

On the other hand he wouldn’t even exist if Bruce hadn’t made him. So people are dead and it’s still the Batman’s fault.

Afterwards Bruce watches as the Joker is taken in from a rooftop. He doesn’t even notice Tim sidle up beside him. He takes a moment to be annoyed at how proud he is of the boy for being so good.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, because he knows how seeing the Jokers smile cuts into Bruce like few other things can.

“I’m fine.” Bruce says. It’s sort of the truth. Pain like this has become routine for him since Jason died. It’s just a byproduct of his existence. It’s just the price of his failure.

He looks over the crime scene, taking in the blood and the bodies and the relatives crying just like he did over his boy. He takes in the Joker as he’s tied back into his straight jacket. As he’s looking, the Joker tilts his head up. Bruce knows that the man is searching him out.

Instead of leaving or moving or doing anything useful, he freezes.

The Joker’s gaze alights on him. Pausing in its scan of the roofline. Then his eyes move a little down and to the left and Bruce feels Tim take a step back as he meets the Joker’s eyes.

Bruce is no longer fine.

He unfreezes and takes Tim in his arms, swinging them as far away from the scene of the crime as he can. He hears the Joker’s laughter behind them, starting out quiet but growing loud enough that Bruce doubts he’ll ever be able to outrun it.

“It’s fine.” Tim says from where he’s held tight in Bruce’s arms. “Bruce, I’ll be fine. He doesn’t even know who I am. I’ll be fine.”

He sounds scared and hopeful and absolutely certain that nothing will be able to hurt him while he’s under the Batman’s protection.

Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s wrong.

~

The body of Tim Drake is buried two weeks later.

Bruce spends the whole funeral thinking about how this is going to keep happening. About how children are going to keep finding him and squirming their way into his heart until he can’t bear to push them away any longer.

He realises that he can’t take a third tragedy of this magnitude. And if he can’t take it then Gotham certainly can’t. Batman is the only thing propping the city up as it attempts to crush itself under the weight of its cruelty.

Bruce makes a decision. As he does so he realises that they’re almost at the finish line.

~

There’s an Arkham escape. The Joker gets out. He’s currently killing people.

The relief Bruce feels when he hears what’s happening is extraordinary.

“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?” The Joker says once Bruce arrives and they look each other in the eye. He laughs hard enough to gently choke on his own blood. The wheezing sounds like victory. “You’re actually gonna kill me. Aren’t you Batsy?”

Bruce shoots his grapple gun through the Joker’s chest. It punches right through him, filling the room with an awful cracking squelching noise, and lodges in the wall. The sound the Joker makes as his throat fills with blood is more of a gurgle than a wheeze now.

“Yes.” Bruce replies.

It’s the ending.

Damian: Father make them stop

Bruce, fucking with him: what’s got you throwing a hissy? You’re whistling dixie son. Put a kibosh on the gobbledygook it’s time to break

It would be very funny to me if the Batkids started using slang from the eras they were created in. Like this doesn’t change their ages it just makes them all seem weirder than usual

For example-

Dick Grayson: And the old geezer was an eager beaver who helped us find the glitterati who was throwing the party. We all cut a rug but I tells yous clams he may have but Bruce is a dead hopper if I ever saw one. Anything he tells you is floy floy

*Everyone staring at him like he’s lost it*

Jason: Gag me with a spoon. I’m hella done you’re wiggin me out Dickie. Aight imma motor out of here dweebs

Steph: yeah not so much. gonna bounce with Jay.

Tim: That made sense...not. Dick you’re bugging out

Damian clutching Duke’s arm in a death grip: Thomas what is happening should we leave?

Duke: Bet little D we should dip. This is a big yikes

I watched the Snyder cut and all I could think abt the whole movie is the concept of victor and barry going to uni together

new she-ra fic: Time To Go

word count: 7,733

summary: After Adora disappears and Catra has to gather a whole army to find her again, there’s a moment on the battlefield where Catra actually thinks that Adora’s about to leave her.

She doesn’t. Of course. All they have is eachother and both of them belong to the Horde. To defect to the Rebellion is unthinkable. Impossible.

In the months that follow, Catra decides that leaving might not be as awful an idea as she first thought.

Reset

Take one.

Micah is strong. More magic runs through his veins than any other student his age. He’s a little too human for Shadow Weaver’s tastes but she’s sure that it can be trained out of him. Then she doesn’t train it out of him fast enough.

She pays for that. Dearly.

~

Take two.

Catra is angry. She’s full of desperation and rage and Shadow weaver can understand that completely. She hopes at first that the anger can be turned into drive, into a need it be the best. It works, sort of. Shadow Weaver can see that she needs greatness like Shadow Weaver craves it, but she buries it. Buries it under her need for connection.

It’s pathetic, Shadow Weaver thinks. Pathetic and childish. She writes Catra off as a failure perhaps a little too early.

~

Take three.

Adora is perfect. Start to finish. She’s Shadow Weaver’s magnum opus. But she’s also not quite right. There’s not enough doubt in her for her to belong to Shadow Weaver, and if she doesn’t belong to Shadow Weaver then she can’t control her. And at that point, what is the child worth? Really?

~

Take four.

Glimmer is untrained and messy and has just had far too much responsibility thrust upon her for someone so young. It’s the perfect breeding ground for dependence. Her magic is just like Micah’s and Shadow Weaver is reminded that if she’d just had a little more time with the boy then he could have been exactly what she wanted. She’ll have that time with Glimmer, she thinks.

She’s wrong.

~

Take five.

There is no take five.

It’s probably a good thing.

Au where Billy doesn’t get his demigod form but just a shit ton of magic instead.

(can kinda be read as a continuation of this)

~

Zatanna has been hopping around Europe for months now. She’s been finding her father’s old teachers and new ones that are all her own and getting them to tell her everything they can. Since she left the mountain she’s been wringing every drop of knowledge she can from the world and practising it until she falls asleep with all her magic spent.

It feels a little like healing.

Sometimes it feels like something else though. When Zatanna thinks about how the only real connections she’s made on this journey have been with her teachers. Those connections aren’t like the one she shared with her father. Not like the connections she still shares with the Team. She makes the effort to go and visit the mountain on occasion but it’s not enough. The feeling of other people being close and loving her doesn’t fill her up like it used to.

She decides that this probably is healing. This whole thing she’s doing. But it’s a lonely breed of it.

Then a boy with black hair and blue eyes and far too much power, just like her, comes tumbling into her room one day.

“Uh. Hi. I’m Billy.” he says, uncertain. His aura crackles with lightning and Zatanna doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone with so much raw magic running through their veins.”You’re Zatanna right? I was hoping that you could help me? I want- I need to learn magic.” He pauses. “It’s important. A wizard told me so.”

Zatanna hasn’t thought about helping anyone in a long time. She’s been too focused on saving herself to have room for other worries. She realises that she misses it.

She must hesitate for too long because Billy looks far more worried than a kid that age should have any right to. “Please?” he says.

Zatanna smiles, because healing takes many forms and she thinks that this might be one she prefers. “Okay.” she says.

Billy smiles and it lights the room up so much that Zatanna thinks he might actually be doing magic on accident.

They’ll work on it.

oh my god I just realised that hooty is long furby

new fic!!!

word count: 3,360

summary: Tim Drake is excited to go to school with someone else who knows Batman and Robin's identities.

Damian Al Ghul makes it incredibly difficult to stay that way.

OR

Damian tries to recruit the only boy at his new school with a brain to spy on his father.

It's trickier than he expects.

Since joining rebellion there’s been a certain amount of adjustment for Adora. A lot of it is weirdly easy. She finds out that something she’s been taught since birth is factually incorrect, she rearranges her world view to incorporate this new information, she finds herself in agreement with her new people and everyone ends up happy.

Sometimes it’s not as easy.

“What do you mean you don’t see the problem?” Glimmer asks, waves of alarm rolling off her.

Adora looks to Bow in search of moral support but he looks just as scandalized as Glimmer. “I just don’t see what the big deal is! We’re in the middle of a war, you can’t just not kill people.” She looks at the two of them. “It’s not like I enjoy it.” she adds, and if she’s trying to convince herself more than Bow and Glimmer then it’s not like they need to know that.

“We don’t kill people.” Bow says haltingly. “That’s not how the rebellion works.”

“Then no wonder you guys are losing!” And finally Adora feels like she’s figured out something useful. “We can just tell everyone that lethal force is acceptable. We’ll be pushing the Horde back in no time.”

Adora says it all with a smile on her face which slowly drops when she realises that no one’s returning it. That fact alone is enough to stun her, Bow and Glimmer always return her smiles, but what makes it worse is that if she didn’t know better she might think it was pity on their faces.

“You wouldn’t think that if you hadn’t been raised in the Horde.” Glimmer says.

“Well duh. That doesn’t make it a bad thing though.”

Bow and Glimmer exchange a look before Bow steps forward and puts a supportive hand on Adora’s shoulder. “We’ll work on it.” he says and Adora thinks he might be talking about her mentality rather than the obvious flaws in the Rebellion’s strategy.

He says it kindly, like he’s being nice, and Glimmer is looking at Adora in clear agreement with him. It’s like they think she wasn’t capable of independent thought before she met them. That every belief she held while in the Horde must be bad because of where it came from. The feeling of their presence turns suffocating and Adora starts looking for an escape route.

For a moment she misses Catra with burning intensity. Now there’s someone who understands that when you fight you don’t hold anything back.

“Y’know, sometimes I get jealous of you.”

Bruce hopes that the look on his face communicates what a ridiculous notion that is. From the way Clark snorts a little he’s sure he manages it.

“I know, I know, it’s silly. It’s just.” He licks his lips. “Your secret identity is just so not you. I feel like Superman and Clark Kent get further away from each other every day, but they’re both still me. Is that dumb?”

“No.”

“Okay. That’s good. It’s just that it’s getting harder, y’know? But it’s also getting easier. Well I guess you don’t know. You’ve probably never had an issue with separating Batman and Brucie Wayne.”

Bruce looks at Clark, “I have trouble separating my identities. Just not those two.”

He frowns before catching himself. “Oh right. Sorry, sometimes I forget you have three. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one.” He pauses, looking at Bruce as if asking permission to continue. Bruce doesn’t give it but Clark goes on anyway. “You have problems splitting up Batman and Bruce then? They’re both you?”

“Of course.” He says, answering the second question. That’s a fact he’s always been sure of. Then, in reference to the first, “I know what you mean about being able to feel the two people you are drift further and further apart.”

“Really?”

Bruce smiles and it’s full of self loathing. “Bruce is a father, Batman’s a partner, a mentor. There was a time when those things all meant the same to me.” He pauses, thinking. “It’s strange, I can barely see the overlaps any more.”

MR BARTHOLOMEW HENRY ALLEN THE SECOND

new fic babyyyyyy

Word Count: 5,441

Summary: When she went to duel Bruce's new lover to the death Talia hadn't been expecting to fall in love.

It's almost impressive that she made a miscalculation so severe.

~

“I’m his favourite.” Selina says through a yawn, sure that her smugness will manage to shine through despite her exhaustion.

“You are not.” Talia scoffs.

“How many cats has he named after you?”

There’s a moment of silence. Selina lets a grin stretch across her face.

“Just you wait.” Talia says, “I will have a legion of cats named after me.”

“Sure you will, love.” Selina manages through overtired giggles.

Selina & Talia

1 2 3 wrote a bunch more for this and it’s on ao3 now lol

Talia is making dinner with Selina when the Sirens burst in.

Selina had said that something like this would happen one day but this is the first time Talia has met them during her and Selina’s relationship.

“Guess what we-” Harley Quinn crows before stopping abruptly at the sight of Talia in the kitchen and Damian at the table. “Who’re you?”

Pamela Isley rolls her eyes before stepping forwards and holding out a hand. “Selina’s been telling us all about her new paramour, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” she says. Talia raises an eyebrow but shakes the hand. She supposes that if Selina likes these people so much she can stomach being polite.

Harley, who had been looking Talia up and down from behind Pamela, steps forward and thrusts her hand out for Talia to shake as well. “Harley Quinn, pleasure to meet ya. And I’ve got to say you are a real improvement on the last guy Cat dated. Like really. Wowza.” Pamela elbows Harley in the ribs but she just responds by kissing her on the cheek. Talia raises an eyebrow at Selina who nods that yes, they’re always like this. Harley turns towards the kitchen table where Damian has turned away from his laptop and is looking at the group of them with undisguised judgement. “And is this your little one?”

“Yes.” Talia answers. She shoots a look at Damian since she can sense that he’s about three seconds from starting a fight. “He is.”

Harley leans down so that her face is level with Damian’s. “Isn’t he a cutie?”

“Continue to disrespect me and I shall remove your head from your shoulders, Quinn”

“And he’s got spunk!” she praises, her lack of fear just making Damian scowl harder. “Who’s the Daddy?” she asks, turning back to Talia.

“My ex.” Talia and Selina answer in unison.

Pamela looks up at the two of them sharply from where she had been inspecting the food and there’s a hint of confusion on Harley’s face for the first time in the whole conversation.

Talia knows it’s undignified, but she can’t help herself from a moment of sharp laughter. She might have been embarrassed over it if not for the way Selina giggles into her shoulder afterwards.

Tim is walking to his house after school when he spots his parents car in the drive and feels a flash of panic. He runs through a checklist in his mind of how he left the house and whether he’s done anything lately that his parents could be here to pick him up on. After a moment he’s certain that everything should be fine and the worst thing that’s about to happen is a far too formal conversation about whatever areas his parents feel he’s slacking in and he opens the door. When he doesn’t see either of them waiting for him he heads up to his room, dismissing the unease he feels when his door is slightly more ajar than he left it.

His initial flash of panic is nothing compared to the alarm he feels when he walks in to find his mother holding the robin costume in a perfectly manicured hand.

The look on her face is a sight to behold. Her normal expression of mild disdain suits her, it turns a face that would normally be described as pretty into something beautiful. Something that could be carved from marble. Now her face is twisted with enough anger to make her ugly.

Tim is struck for a moment by how this might be the first time she’s cared enough to look at him with real anger since that night at the circus when she told him to stop crying and he couldn’t deliver, no matter how hard he tried.

“This was not the plan Timothy.” she hisses through gritted teeth.

Tim takes the subsequent verbal thrashing with all the grace expected of him as a Drake. By the time it ends he thinks there might be a couple of cracks in the facade but he manages to keep it under control.

The only reason he doesn’t break down is because during her whole scolding Janet never once tells him to give up Robin. He can tell from the curl of her lip, the set of her spine, that she wants to. That she aches to. But Janet Drake has never once entered a battle knowing she would lose.

So she doesn’t tell him to stop. And in the face of such favour? Tim can handle anything.

“Sometimes I think Batman is the only thing I made right.” Bruce says to no one in particular. The words cause Alfred to freeze for a moment before going back to work. “You disagree?” Bruce asks, not wanting to leave secrets between them.

Alfred looks up at him. “I have always thought of Batman as your worst creation, Sir.”

His tone is serious but Bruce can’t help but laugh. “I made the Red Hood, I made the Joker Alfred. You really think Batman is worse than them?”

“Yes I do, Master Bruce.” Alfred says, refusing to look at him.

The exchange is disjointed enough that Bruce stops laughing immediately. A tense silence is left hanging in the air.

Neither of them say anything else for the rest of the night.

Selina & Talia

1 2 3

Selina quite likes this thing she’s had going on with Talia, it’s far better than whatever was happening with Bruce at least.

‘Stop stealing things’, ‘Move in with me’, ‘Don’t team up against me with the Sirens’ nag, nag, nag. That’s all it had been with Bruce. Talia actually understands the things Selina does and she couldn’t give less of a shit about them. Well, she sort of does. Selina imagines that if Talia saw her pull something as boring as your standard bank robbery she’d break up with her. That’s understandable though, Selina would break up with someone who would pull a job that unfashionable.

“Why do you keep leaving?” Selina asks, stretching as she looks over to Talia packing her bag. It’s an honest question.

“Some of us have jobs.” Talia replies, no heat behind it. She leans over and kisses Selina before shouldering the bag. She walks to the door but hesitates before turning the handle.

Selina freezes from where she was still stretching. Talia never hesitates.

“What if I work was not the reason I was leaving?”

“Then I’d be ashamed of myself for not having you caught you in a lie sooner.” Selina replies, keeping her tone casual despite the fact that this is probably the most serious conversation they’ve had to date. “I don’t suppose you’re cheating on me? Because I thought you had better taste than to do something so class-less.”

“I would never.” she declares. The severity of the statement doesn’t match the conversation’s previous tone and Selina realises quite suddenly that they aren’t trying to be light-hearted about this any more. “I’m going to bring someone next time we see each other.”

“Oh?”

Talia opens the door and for a moment Selina thinks she isn’t getting a reply. Then Talia turns back, looking at Selina with an expression that could mean absolutely anything. “I hope that the two of you will mean something to each other.” she says, before walking out and closing the door softly behind her.

Selina doesn’t move for a while after that, thinking about what might be coming. She hopes it won’t change things too much, her and Talia really do have something special.

~

A couple of weeks later Selina gets back to her apartment to find Talia inspecting the blueprint she had set out on the table and a boy, perhaps eight years old, playing quietly with a couple of Selina’s cats.

Talia looks up from the blueprints. She doesn’t smile like she usually does when Selina enters a room. “This is my son. Damian.” she declares.

The boy looks up and cocks his head to one side. A part of Selina’s brain that she isn’t paying much attention to right now decides that how similar the boy looks to Bruce probably isn’t a coincidence.

In an instant Selina’s hopes that her and Talia’s relationship could continue unchanged are dashed. But as she looks at the boy being oh so careful with her kittens, she thinks she might not mind such a change after all.

New fic: Creation Is A Curse

Word count: 1,315

Summary: “I could stop.” Bruce whispers, voice cracking. “I could stop making soldiers and turn them back into children.”

Alfred sighs, the frown lines on his face deepening with grief. “They would never survive it.”

Bruce knows it’s true. First himself, then the Joker and now his children. An aptitude for creating monsters has always been Batman’s greatest curse.

~

Fic under the cut

“You know I still love you, right?” Dick says. It’s not what Bruce had been expecting. At Bruce’s apparent surprise Dick rushes to correct himself. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate you. Sometimes I hate you so much that I don’t understand how I can still love you at all. But I do still love you.”

Bruce looks at him. He’s never been an emotional man and he doubts he’ll ever understand how Dick manages to stay one in their line of work. “I don’t know how you can fit so many feelings about me inside you.” he says.

Dick lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “You created me. How could I not?”

He says it like it’s obvious.

The fact that Bruce understands him completely makes it too painful to look at Dick for a moment so he turns to Tim, utterly focused on his training in the centre of the cave. It makes him think of other, potentially more painful things. “You don’t think I should make another Robin. Do you?”

Dick joins Bruce in looking over to where Tim’s training. The set of his jaw is determined and there are still specks of blood on his face from patrol. “You already have.” he says, the bite of grief colouring his tone.

Bruce wishes that Dick had given a different answer. His disappointment must show on his face because Dick turns to him and smirks, something mean in his expression.

“Don’t look so glum. I might even forgive you one day.”

He says it jokingly. Bruce prays for a moment that it’s the truth.

~

Jason is back. Jason is back.

Jason is back and he’s the Red Hood and his new favourite hobby is trying to convince Bruce just how much he hates him. As if Bruce doesn’t already know.

Jason is holding a gun to a man’s head. It’s a bad man, a man who has caused grief and suffering and hurt people in ways beyond what Bruce finds acceptable. But Jason has a gun to the man’s head and for some twisted reason that means that Bruce thinks the man is deserving of his protection.

The moment Bruce has processed all that, the moment that Jason can see that he’s processed all that, the trigger is pulled and the man drops dead.

“You did that.” Jason says with utter conviction. “You killed that man. I pulled the trigger but I’m only a monster because it’s what you made me.”

Jason is either far more or far less the man he was shaping up to be before he died. Bruce can’t quite tell which.

“I know.” he says, instead of any of that, “I know.”

~

An assassin has a knife at Bruce’s throat and for a moment he thinks that he’s going to die. Then he feels the spray of blood that isn’t his and the body behind him drops to the floor.

He turns to see Cassandra plucking the knife from the hands of the corpse she just made.

“I thought you didn’t kill any more.” he says, voice hoarse.

She shrugs. “Sometimes it’s necessary.”

“Did the League teach you that?” Bruce asks, hating the way disapproval colours his tone.

Cass looks up from the corpse and Bruce sees the frown of confusion between her eyes. “No. You.”

She disappears into the night before Bruce can say anything else.

~

Dick is a more dangerous man than anyone comprehends. Jason’s body count is rising by the day. Cassandra is training in Hong Kong to turn herself into an even better weapon than the League could. Stephanie grows more driven every moment, more set on becoming every bit as dangerous as she has the potential to be. The people Tim loves keep dying and it’s put a darkness in his eyes.

“How do you love creatures so vicious?” Talia asks.

“I doubt I could love anything else these days.” Bruce replies.

Talia hums. The clever part of Bruce’s mind thinks that he might have given her the answer she was looking for.

It worries him more deeply than he would like to admit.

~

“Sometimes I wonder if I would be a better person now if I had never been Robin.”

“I imagine that you would have spent that time with Barbara. So probably.”

Steph looks at him like she’s waiting for him to get angry. She should know better by now. For Bruce to get angry at his kids is an exercise in futility these days, it’s like getting angry at a concept.

She turns away and huffs. “I can’t believe I let you get your feelers in me. I saw how you changed Tim and I still didn’t realise that you can’t talk to a kid without twisting it into a weapon.” Bruce shoots a look at her and she shrugs, like her musings aren’t a dagger in his heart. “Welp. Guess that one’s on me.”

“Yeah.” Bruce lies. What else is he meant to say?

~

Bruce can’t stop looking at the scar on Tim’s neck. The one he got when a person Bruce created and still loves as fervently as ever decided that a grave would be a better home for him than the manor.

“Does it bother you,” he asks, “That I might be making you into him?”

Tim thinks for a moment. “Only when I’m mourning him.”

“And when’s that?”

He smiles, sad. “All the time, of course. Isn’t it the same for you?”

“Of course.” They grow silent for a moment before Bruce plucks up the courage to ask the question he really wants the answer to. “Does it scare you? That one day you might be someone’s monster.”

Bruce didn’t expect Tim to start laughing, but he does. Deep and whole and uncommon from him these days. Like Bruce just told a joke and hasn’t realised it yet. “Don’t you get it Bruce?” he asks once the laughter’s died down and become a little more manageable. Something about Tim’s expression is inherently wrong and Bruce feels his guard go up but Tim is too amused to notice. “I already am. I’m your monster. We’re all your monsters. You’re Doctor Frankenstein and, instead of sewing together bits of corpses, you’ve found children full of holes and stitched pieces of yourself to them rather than letting them grow.”

“What-” Bruce croaks. Something in his expression must look utterly horrified because Tim’s eyes widen and the good humour drains from his face.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” he says, as if Bruce could possibly have taken that any other way. “I just- Don’t we scare you?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Wait, really?” Tim looks shocked, like Bruce just upended one of his most basic understandings in life.

Bruce worries that he has.

They don’t talk much for the rest of patrol. Both of them have too much to think about.

~

Bruce has a son.

There’s a boy who Bruce has never touched but is made from his flesh and bone and apparently that’s enough because he’s already as deadly as any of Bruce’s other children. It makes him feel sick so he leaps onto the idea that this is the League’s fault, that for once it isn’t on Bruce that a child has been broken and the remains have too many sharp edges.

“I didn’t make you. The League made you.” he says, clinging to a fantasy.

Damian huffs out a breath of annoyance. “Unmake me then.” he scoffs, “Tear me apart and shape me into something more like them.”

Make me into another of your monsters, he doesn’t say.

The ‘no’ is in Bruce’s mouth. He can taste the word, feel his tongue curling around the shape of it. But Bruce has done this far too many times to stop now and making monsters is all he knows.

“Okay.” he says instead.

The cycle continues.

concept: duke telling bruce that he might be immortal and expecting bruce to weird about it but bruce is just like,,, tearing up,,, and duke is like ‘??’ but bruce can’t stop thinking about how FINALLY he might not have to watch one of his kids die before him

Selina & Talia

1 2 3

The first time Talia meets Bruce’s new lover, they stab each other.

Talia tries to ignore the fact that she’s a little impressed. It had been her understanding that the woman had no formal training and Talia hadn’t really expected her to get a hit in, let alone a stab wound. “You should leave my beloved alone. This will not end well for you otherwise.” she informs the woman.

The woman looks surprised. It makes Talia pleased until she speaks. “We literally just broke up.” she says and it’s Talia’s turn to look shocked now.

“Oh.” Talia wants to shift her weight but there’s still a dagger in her side. She supposes she can’t exactly complain since there’s a sword in the woman’s. “I apologise. It seems my intel is out of date.”

The woman, Selina she supposes now, looks at Talia like she’s never seen another person before. “You think?”

A far away corner of Talia’s mind notes that the splatter of blood on Selina’s face and the arch of her eyebrow make her look the exact kind of pretty Talia likes best.

She wishes she could shake herself. This encounter isn’t going how Talia had planned it. “I suppose we should both seek medical attention now.” she says, half to change the subject and half because it’s a valid point.

“I know a place.” Selina gets up, impressively steady considering how she has to keep one hand fixed on the sword in her to stop it moving around too much. Ones she’s on her feet she looks at Talia like she’s assessing her. Talia glares right back at her, back straight and eyes narrowed. Selina must like what she sees because she cocks the corner of her mouth into something a little like a smirk. “And afterwards you could come back to mine.”  she says slyly, “Just to rest, of course.”

Talia hadn’t quite expected that. She can’t say that she’s unhappy about it though. “Of course.” she echoes, “Not to dissuade you, but it is my understanding that you just broke up with someone?”

“Psh,” Selina waves the hand that isn’t holding Talia’s sword steady inside of her, “I’m not one to dwell on the past.”

Talia allows herself a smile. “Well then, how could I object?”

had this sketch of fancy core four laying around <3

Fashion inspo? Oh you mean fan art of cartoon characters where they look Trendy™️

WonderTrash96

Cassie is explaining to Kon and Bart some of the reasons why Wonder Woman is, without doubt, the greatest hero of this age. They’re both too tired from the mission they just went on to leave so Cassie’s had a captive audience to lecture about her favourite topic for the past half hour.

She’s having, quite frankly, a fantastic time.

As she’s moving on to her next point and Bart and Kon are letting out identical groans Tim comes in and starts making a coffee. For a moment Cassie wonders if she might be able to drag Tim into the audience of her presentation, he’s probably just as tired from work as Kon and Bart are from their mission, but then she realises Tim’s already listening.

This wouldn’t shock her, for all his flaws Tim can be an excellent listener at times, but Tim isn’t wearing a listening sort of expression. He’s looking at Cassie with the sort of complete shock that only belongs on the faces of burglars caught in the act, mouth hanging slightly open and eyes rounder than can be natural. She’s about to ask him what’s up. She’s about to check to see if he just had some world shattering revelation that’s going to save them all a world of hurt in the near future, but then Tim says under his breath, so quiet Cassie almost doesn’t hear, “WonderTrash96” and Cassie is suddenly worried about very different things.

She takes a moment to curse her twelve year old self, well thought out arguments as to why as a hero Wonder Woman really is beyond reproach and all, for being idiotic enough to run a fan blog and not anticipate that it would come back to haunt her later on.

Then, before Cassie can curse her twelve year old self too thoroughly, she has the thought that Tim would have to know her childhood fan blog very well to recognise an argument she made there years ago. Then she remembers the semi-regular discourse she used to get in with a batman fan blog and how Tim has said a lot of the exact same things as that blog used to.

Cassie bolts upright, her eyes narrowing. “You” she hisses.

The two of them look at each other for a second, reliving years of vitriol in a moment.

Tim shakes himself and in an instant he looks normal again. “I would like to propose we never mention this ever again for the sake of both our reputations.”

Cassie nods slowly, relaxing back into the couch. “I have always loved a good state of mutually assured destruction.”

Tim gives a short, sharp nod in return and leaves with his coffee. Kon and Bart both look a little like they might want to ask what that was about but are too tired to do so. There’s a moment of silence before Cassie comes back to herself.

“Along with her contributions to the 1983 United Nations summit-” she starts, talking over Kon and Bart’s groans and absolutely not thinking about the level of dirt she and Tim have on each other now.

~

That night, Cassie gets messaged on an account she hasn’t touched since she was fourteen.

(22:34) I can’t believe you haven’t come up with better arguments since you were twelve.

(22:36) fuck off She types back.

She’s grinning before she even hits send.

New Fic!!

Word count: 1,338

Summary: Luz feels guilty all the time.

It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't know that she deserved it.

~

“But you can do magic here, isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?” Willow asks.

“How can you miss being there when you fit in so much better here?” Gus says.

“They didn’t deserve you.” Amity snorts, like it’s obvious.

~

Fic under the cut!

Luz feels guilty all the time now.

Not guilty enough that she’s consumed by it. Not guilty enough that it stops her from doing anything. It’s just something in the background, something that pulls at her a little as she runs and fights and generally enjoys life more than she ever has before.

She mentions it to her friends. They don’t quite understand it.

“But you can do magic here, isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?” Willow asks.

“How can you miss being there when you fit in so much better here?” Gus says.

“They didn’t deserve you.” Amity snorts, like it’s obvious.

The last one makes Luz feel something different. She hopes she’ll figure out what sometime soon, once the guilt has ebbed away and there’s enough room for her to step back and look at her thoughts from a distance. Once there’s enough room that she might be able to examine the shape they take.

The problem is that Luz isn’t even guilty for what she’s done. If all she had done to her mom was leave her all alone in a different dimension then Luz wouldn’t even be feeling bad. It’s what Luz is going to do that keeps the low buzzing of guilt close.

Because Luz is never going back.

How could she? How could she return to a world where she can’t do magic, where she never fit in?

(where they didn’t deserve her)

Luz would do anything to stay in the Boiling Isles forever and considering the fact that all she has to do is not leave? Luz would have to have some twisted sort of mind to want to go back.

Her mom was going to send her to send her somewhere to get her imagination stamped out of her for three months. What if Luz returned and she tried to do that again? Then she might never get an opportunity to return to the Boiling Isles and then-

Then Luz would be feeling significantly worse things than a little guilt buzzing at the edge of her consciousness.

So she stays.

~

Luz is staring at the door that would take her back home.

Eda looks at her from over the cover of her magazine. “You planning to set that on fire, kid?”

“Yeah.” Luz answers without remembering that she probably shouldn’t be saying that sort of thing. Oh well, she thinks. It’s not like Eda’s going to judge her.

Eda puts down her magazine and raises a judging eyebrow in Luz’s direction.

Luz looks back at her and narrows her eyes. They’ve never talked about Luz going home and she had really been enjoying that status quo. “Your eyebrows are judging me.” she informs Eda. Just in case she wasn’t aware yet.

She nods slowly. “Yeah, they tend to do that kid.” She pauses. Like she needs some time to come to terms with the unprecedented fact that Luz would do anything not to stay here forever. “Bet it’s ‘cause they were wondering why you were going to set your only way back home on fire.”

“I guess that would make sense.” Luz answers, “It would kind of be an odd thing for me to do, from the perspective of your eyebrows.” She tries her best to look serious since this is a serious conversation despite how they’re both pretending that it isn’t.

They stare each other down for a while.

King comes and interrupts before either of them can break the stalemate. Eda looks particularly affronted when this happens, like whenever she’s avoiding telling Luz something she doesn’t use this exact same trick.

It’s odd. Luz thought Eda would have realised she’s a fast learner by now.

~

In a particularly unexpected turn of events it’s Lilith that ends of being the one to confront Luz about the whole thing.

She just had a fight with Eda. Obviously. Because the only time Luz ever runs into Lilith is when she’s just about to fight Eda or when they’ve just finished. It ends in a draw, like it always does, and Luz wonders why Lilith keeps coming back to fight Eda when she must know that it’s going to end the same way it always does.

Luz voices these opinions and Lilith squints at her with an expression that reminds her of Eda and her judge-y eyebrows. “Do humans not have families?” she asks, her tone full of honest confusion.

Luz isn’t quite sure how to answer that. She stays silent, waiting for King to interrupt like last time but remembers that King isn’t actually here right now and decides not to answer anyway. Maybe she’ll get lucky and someone else will interrupt.

“Well?” Lilith prompts, impatient now. “Do you have a family, human?”

Luz opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, “Why do you care?” she asks, which isn’t her best comeback but does the job of allowing her to avoid the question.

Lilith has the gall to roll her eyes. “I care about precisely two people in the Boiling Isles.” She holds up two fingers to illustrate her point. “My awful sister,” She puts a finger down, “and my wonderful protege.” She puts the other finger down so that her hand is in the shape of a fist. An irrational part of Luz’s brain wonders if she’s about to get punched. “So I think it’s understandable enough that I might like to know if the human that has the full adoration of my two favourite people might be leaving them someday soon.”

“Nope,” Luz starts backing away cause Lilith looks kind of angry and hence very scary, “No one’s leaving here. I am a-okay staying right here. Forever.”

“Oh.” Lilith says, expression turning surprised. Her eyes aren’t narrowed anymore and it makes them look far larger than normal. “I thought you were leaving.”

Luz looks at Lilith and feels something full of far too familiar guilt stirring in her chest. “That’s weird. I’ve never thought that before.” she says, because it’s true.

“But you have a family?” Lilith says because even if her and Luz don’t talk much she’s still one of the smartest people Luz knows, which is saying something since Luz is surrounded by geniuses these days.

“Yep. I’m staying though.”

Lilith frowns. “You should visit them. Family’s important.” Luz can feel herself starting to back away, the buzz of guilt rising again, but Lilith interrupts before she can get very far. “I’m sure that either Amity or Eda would drag you back before you could be gone for too long anyway.”

The words cause Luz to freeze. She hadn’t thought of that before.

Lilith had clearly been aiming for the comment to sound offhand, an afterthought, but from the way she’s a little tenser than normal Luz can tell that she really was trying to reassure her. It makes Luz wonder it Lilith might have enough room in her heart to care about three people one day.

“I’ll think about it.” she promises.

Luz keeps her eyes fixed firmly on the floor as she says it but she can tell that the words make Lilith smile a little anyway.

~

Luz really does think about it. She thinks about it constantly, replaces the buzz of guilt with wonderings over whether she trusts that her loved ones have their claws dug into her deep enough that they could never let her go.

One night, lying in bed and wondering the same things as always, she comes to the conclusion that she does. After the certainty has settled itself in her bones she has the best nights sleep she’s had in weeks.

In the morning she decides that she’ll wait a little. Let the certainty sink in a bit deeper. Let the amount she loves the people she’s surrounded herself with grow until the idea she won’t be able to return becomes ridiculous.

But then the Emperor comes and the portal burns and none of it really matters.

Luz starts feeling guilty again. She doubts she’ll ever stop.

Stiles Stilinski is just like Lydia in all the wrong ways.

His thoughts move as fast as hers, sometimes faster, and it’s the first time someone else’s brain has measured up to hers. It makes her hate him. It makes her despise him. His existence upsets Lydia’s painstakingly constructed social hierarchy where she’s always meant to be the smartest person in the room.

She is the smartest person in the room. Most of the time. There are just rare occasions, few and far between, where Stiles will do better on a test than her. Or he’ll give a presentation and clearly understand the material better than she does, even if he does do a shit job at presenting it.

Sometimes she’ll look around the room and wonder how everyone can be so stupid. How she can be surrounded by people who think so slowly that they’re actually having trouble comprehending things that are so obvious.

Whenever she does that she always finds Stiles looking straight at her, like he’s thinking the exact same thing.

It only makes her hate him more.

~

Jackson Whittemore is just like Lydia in all the right ways.

He wants to be better than everyone. He wants it like it’s everything. Like to be lesser is death. Like to be lesser is hell.

Lydia has always felt the exact same way.

It’s refreshing, at first. For someone to ache for power like she does. The fact that the two of them are the only people who need control like they need air is probably the reason they actually achieve it in the first place.

She supposes that the fact they’re both beautiful and smart and mean doesn’t hurt.

It takes a long time for Lydia to love Jackson. It’s something that happens in an instant. Even when they started dating it was more an arrangement of mutual convenience, something they did because they both wanted to be the best and becoming a team was simply the next step in achieving that. But after they’ve been dating for a while Jackson looks at Lydia and she feels utterly understood in a way she had always thought might be impossible from the perspective of a mind that doesn’t move as fast as hers.

It puts fire in her bones and Lydia decides that she never wants to stop burning.

~

Far later, Lydia supposes that it isn’t so surprising that she ends up having loved them both.

She always has adored her reflection.

asdfnrjrft just thought about Duke and Tim both thinking of each other as the family’s impulse control and then one day both of them realise that the other’s an insane adrenaline junkie just like everyone else and then they’re both like ‘you’re telling me that no one’s been holding the brain cell this entire time?!?!?’

new fic cause apparently i’m on an absolute roll

Word count: 1,524

Summary:“It’s a conspiracy!” Danny cries, jamming an accusatory finger close enough to Jazz’s face that she has to go cross-eyed to look at it. “You’re conspiring against me with my arch-nemesis!”

Jazz brings her hand up and pushes the finger still pointed between her eyes back down. “Oh no.” she deadpans. “You’ve foiled my evil plot. Whatever shall I do?”

She goes back to reading at her psychology textbook.

Danny lets out a strangled yelp of frustration and stomps out of the room.

This on ao3

There is someone in Duke’s room.

He’s in bed and had the bad luck of waking up facing the wall. He’s sure there’s someone in the space by his window but he doesn’t think he can turn over to try and get a glimpse of them without making it obvious that he’s awake.

“It’s obvious that you’re awake.” a voice calls from the space by Duke’s window.

Well never mind, Duke thinks, then, wait.

Duke knows that voice. He knows that voice significantly better than he wishes he did.

“Dad?” Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that. That is not his Dad stood by the window.

Duke sits up and turns sees to Gnomon looking annoyingly pleased at the term of address. “Who else would it be?”

“What do you want?” he snarls, the effect likely ruined by the blanket still pulled up to his chest.

Gnomon tilts his head. “The question is more what do you want.” Duke is about to cut in with the fact that the answer is absolutely nothing before Gnomon continues. “There’s something you want to ask me.”

Oh. Duke hadn’t been expecting that. The problem is that he’s right, and Duke is possibly more annoyed about that than the man breaking into his room in the first place.

Duke sighs and comes to the conclusion that there’s really very little he can do about Gnomon being here. He may as well ask the question if the man is in a sharing mood today. “Am I going to die?” he asks.

Gnomon smiles, sharp and cruel and pleased, “No.” he says, and disappears into the shadows until Duke is alone.

Shit. That was the answer he had been hoping against.

~

Gotham is a city that shifts. It’s a city so heavy with cruelty that it crushes itself constantly, never able to settle into one shape or the other before something crumbles and it has to rearrange itself all over again.

It is not a city built with immortality in mind.

Duke wonders if he should leave one day. If forcing a level of change onto his life might make the rest of his existence endurable.

Jason laughs when he mentions these thoughts, loud and brash and maybe a little angry. The noise grates on Duke’s nerves and it makes him glad that he didn’t mention that the rest of his existence might be forever. “This city has had its claws in you all your life kid. You think it’s going to let go now?”

“Now?” Duke asks, hoping his calm might balance out Jason’s agitation. “What’s different about now.”

“You’re one of us now.” Jason cackles. He slaps his arm around Duke’s shoulders and the overfamiliarity of the gesture makes him tense up. He wonders if Jason is drunk right now. “You ever hear about a bat leaving Gotham for long and surviving?”

“You ever hear about a bat surviving Gotham for long?” Duke snaps. He had kind of hoped that it would make Jason back off with his crazed eyes and too loud laugh but it just sets him off again.

Jason wipes some dampness from the corner of his eyes. “You’re a riot, kid.” he says before leaving, despite the fact that Duke has said literally nothing funny this whole conversation.

Definitely drunk, he concludes, before deciding never to talk to any of the bats about leaving ever again.

~

After his talk with Jason, Duke starts having nightmares about how tangled he is in this city.

He’ll be running over rooftops just like every bat before him has and every bat after him will. He’ll be running and the rooftops will start shifting beneath his feet. It makes sense, at least within the dream. Duke will last forever and it’s clear that Gotham won’t so it’s only to be expected that at some point the ground that’s held him up all his life will be forced to crumble beneath his feet.

Duke is running over rooftops and things start shifting. At some point he trips as the ground sags beneath the weight he carries on his shoulders. The floor twists around him then, parts of it melting away like quicksand while the rest takes on a life of its own and wraps around Duke’s waist, trapping him so that he can’t get up and keep running.

Then what he was running from arrives.

They’re the same gargoyles that he was taught to sit among by the other bats. The same gargoyles he’ll nod hello to if he’s in a good mood and listening to the right music, feeling far more at home than he should in a place that haunts him so deeply. Only now the faces of the gargoyles are twisted into something even angrier than what they were carved to be. They screech and wail as they fly up to Duke’s trapped body and sink their talons into him, all for the sake of burying Gotham as deep into his flesh as possible.

Those dreams never end with Duke dying. He understands why.

~

Duke looks at Bruce differently now.

He knows Bruce can tell. Bruce can see that Duke doesn’t see something that verges on the otherworldly when he looks at Batman anymore. He just sees a man.

Duke thinks it might break Bruce’s heart a bit, but he understands that it isn’t for the wrong reasons. With all his other children things only started to go wrong when they stopped looking at him like the only thing between Gotham and oblivion. When they started to care more that he was a mediocre father and less that he was a perfect superhero.

“I’m not going to start hating you.” Duke tells him one night on patrol, because he thinks it might be something that needs to be said.

Bruce gives a sad half-smile. “I know. I just worry sometimes.” He pauses. “You haven’t been sleeping well.” he states.

“No.” Duke thinks for a moment about how Bruce has lived in Gotham for longer than anyone else he can talk to who knows enough about death that he might care about their answer. “You ever think about how you’ll be here forever?” he asks.

That sad half-smile stays glued to Bruce’s face. “All the time.” he answers, looking out across Gotham’s skyline with an expression that could only be described as grief.

Duke nods in understanding, it’s the same answer he would give.

“We should all run away together!” Arthur crows with all the confidence of a drunk man convinced that he has just had an excellent idea.

Merlin and Morgana sit up a little straighter, eyes brightening with the enthusiasm of people who are very drunk and convinced that they have just heard an excellent idea. Gwen, certainly not sober but more so than anyone else in the room, rolls her eyes.

“We could hide in the forest!” Morgana grins.

“Or the mountains.” Merlin smiles.

Gwen tries not roll her eyes again. “Or we could just stay here and wait for Arthur to become king and change the world into one that we like better.” The room boos her good naturedly and Gwen tries to mimic a bow without moving from her place on the bed, curled into Morgana’s side.

“That,” Arthur slurs from where he’s stood in the centre of Morgana’s room, “Is a very boring plan.” He stumbles a little and Merlin takes his hand to try and tug him down to where he’s sat on the floor. Arthur frowns, because he is obviously too stubborn to take the very sound advice of sitting down, but deigns to keep Merlin’s hand clasped in his.

Gwen props herself up a little but not enough to leave the warmth of Morgana’s side. “We could run away to Ealdor?” she tries instead of exhibiting common sense.

The room cheers.

NEW FIC IS UP

Word Count: 21,432

Title: The Path to Being Known

Summary: When Tim and Cassie are still normal kids and Bart and Kon don’t even exist, the Justice League is defeated. The world that’s left has no alternative but to become something dark and twisted enough to defend itself.

Somewhere within the veritable hellscape that remains: Tim Drake finds Batman; Conner is informed that he has been created to kill Superman; Cassie Sandsmark is just trying to survive; Bart Allen opens the doors of his time machine to find himself somewhere a little later than he had been expecting.