Midnight Rooftops

Sep 08

thewombatslair said: Both Tim and Cass have just met Steph and are discussing their thoughts on her XP

With a twirl of purple cape, the girl was gone. 

"Well then," Robin said, rubbing the back of his neck. "That was…" He turned his gaze over to Batgirl who, of course, said nothing. "She seems…"

"Inexperienced."

Robin nodded. Her technique was sloppy. She broadcast her hits like a sports announcer. And she talked. A lot.

"Like her."

"What? No." Tim bristled under the assumption. Cass could read people but that didn’t mean she understood them. Right? Besides, he had a girlfriend.

"Has potential."

Spoiler went after her father without hesitation or regrets. And she wasn’t great but maybe she could be. Tim could see that but he was worried.

"She’s too…" he couldn’t find a proper word to capture her spirit. She was angry and powerful but she wasn’t like Batman. She teased. Flirted even.

"Free."

"Maybe." He sighed as the sun began to rise over the city. "Well, I guess we should-" he turned back but stopped. "What?"

Batgirl didn’t say anything but he thought he saw a glimpse of a smile under her mask. 

Jun 14

Conversations in White

I don’t think I posted this here? I wrote it a while ago

Based on this picture that I’ve reblogged a lot. I really love it. 

Chara: Stephanie Brown and Jason Todd

The brightness hurt even before Stephanie opened her eyes. The surface beneath her was soft but she couldn’t reason what it was she lay on. 

There was nothing for her to see when she propped herself up with an arm and scaled the area. Whiteness consumed everything, blocking out a horizon that felt very far away until she blinked. Nothing but white, pure in a simple way and bright like nothing she was used to, and a boy. His hair was black and his skin light but his clothes looked familiar. He rolled and revealed the familiar Robin tunic, a verson of the same one she wore. 

He looked at her from his laying position and eyebrows knitted together finally when he couldn’t place her.

“Where are we?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Stephanie said. She pulled her knees to her chest and noticed for the first time her gloves. She didn’t feel them on her hands, nor could she feel any of her clothes next to her skin. It should’ve been chilling but she didn’t feel surprised by it. Which only left curiosity.

He pushed himself up and unto his feet, searching himself before scanning her.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

She stared up at him, scanning his bare legs on the way to his eyes. “Robin. Who are you?”

“Robin.” He looked down at her and she thought he was mad. He didn’t know the name had been passed down. Sure, she recognized him but he wouldn’t recognize her. She waited for the reprimand, the challenge and prepared a retort, something to steady her own doubt she realized she no longer had. Strange. 

“Oh,” he said instead. He turned and surveyed the place, taking a few steady steps. The ground felt soft to her but his steps were level and even. She couldn’t see a seam where softness met stability. It shouldn’t bothered her. Knowing that it didn’t also should have bothered her. She hoped he didn’t go too far. “This is a crazy place,” he said.

That would explain it. A crazy place, with drugs that took away those uncertain feels. But she did feel certain and she knew that wasn’t the right answer. She wasn’t in a crazy place. He wasn’t either. Were they even in a place?

“How did you get here?” he asked, turning back to her. 

“I don’t know,” she said. She couldn’t recall anything. Not the details, not her past but she didn’t feel lost or empty. It was just feelings without context. She knew enough, and knew that she knew enough. “You’re Jason Todd.”

He looked about fifteen with a voice that sounded changed but not matured. His attitude was apparent in his speech, like a dog barking to be heard. He gave another ruffled look. “How do you know that?”

She didn’t know how, only that he was. The tunic he wore was familiar, his face a strangers but still very obvious. “Because I do.”

He didn’t like the answer and took a few more steps. 

“Why are you here?” she asked to distract him from the void between them.

His mouth frowned slightly, an unconscious move he wasn’t aware of. His eyes searched her’s as he tried to remember and she wondered if he could.

“I don’t know,” he said finally in defeat and sat down next to her. “But it doesn’t bother me.”

“Same here,” she said. “Weird.”

“Not for you.” She cocked her head to the side, confused. A few strands of hair fell forward to his forehead. “You’re an angel, so it wouldn’t bother you.”

“What does that mean? You said I’m an angel?” she couldn’t stop the laugh. “How’d you deduce that one?”

“You’re not wearing a mask,” he said. He watched as she touched her fingers to her face, feeling for something that wasn’t there. “Robins wear a mask.”

She felt the familiar warmth surge at the implication. “You’re not wearing one either. ” He tried to stop himself from mirroring her movement, instead settling on a weak glare.

“So?”

“So. I’m not an angel. I don’t think.”

“Oh.” He looked away to hide his hand from checking his face and her early anger drained. “Well I thought you were.”

“Not unless you are. Maybe we’re each other’s.”

He smiled at her. “Ha. Maybe.”

“So tell me something.”

“What?”

“Anything.” She released her knees and looked up at whatever was above her hidden in the white. “Do you remember anything at all?”

He followed her gaze up. “I was helping my Mom. I finally found her but I don’t think I saved her.”

Stephanie frowned and bit her lip. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

He kept staring up. “It’s okay. I don’t know why it is, but it feels like it is. It should bug me but…”

“But you know everything’s okay, too.” He nodded. “I feel the same. Like something happened, something I should feel bad about. But I don’t.” When she looked up he was staring at her. The color of his skin and hair and eyes was shocking against the white surrounding them. 

“I always worried I wouldn’t feel like this,” he said.

“Like what?” she asked, wondering what exactly he did feel and if she felt the same and if she could tell if she did or not.

“That is was worth it.”

Her eyes lowered to his emblem that was white on his uniform like everything else, but still visible by invisible lines, and knew that what she felt too. Contentment.

“Peace.”

He nodded. He folded his hands behind his back and leaned backwards until he was lying down again on the soft surface.

“I like this place,” he said and she saw that peace in his eyes. It looked well-earned, like sleep to an exhausted soldier. 

“Me too. I guess.” His eyes closed and she watched him for a long moment before joining him. They lay there together. Neither knew how long or cared. They talked some but no a lot. There’s wasn’t much to talk about when neither could remember much. They were both okay with that. She liked his eyes, the only bright color around and he liked her hair for the same reason. A falling star came to her mind without reason or source. Then the first sensation of anything but the serine hit her. Pain. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, propping himself onto his elbows. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think I belong here, though.”

“Of course you do. Where else is there?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I should leave.”

He started to say something but his mouth caught the words before they escaped and the boy she first met came back. It was understanding of a cause she saw now. He understood.

“Good luck,” he said, instead of “stay”. She lay down beside him again as another wave of pain hit. He hugged her until she woke up.

A nurse yelled something in a language Stephanie didn’t know over her to someone out of sight. Smells from everything bombarded her senses, noises shook her thoughts in her head. Nothing struck her memory and her body jumped in pain.

A face looked down at her that felt familiar without real recognition. “You’re okay now,” the doctor said. “We got you now.”

Words blocked her throat, as immobile as the rest of her body and Stephanie blinked away the white lights from above. 

Feb 27

sniktpop:

Happy Valentine’s, Steph! <33333 I hope you like this bhnlkjewr

Laying next to him, I feel whole. And it’s not the cliche post-romantic night complete with happy fun times or that that I need that sort of thing to feel like myself. But it does feel, well, good but in more ways than just that. 
It’s the way he looks at me when we’re together, running his eyes over me that makes me want his fingers to follow. He caresses my scars instead of scoffs at them because he can match them. He doesn’t mind the mistakes painted on my body.
I wonder if he knows how much he heals me with that touch. And his words. He makes me feel beautiful in all the cliched ways and more. 
I was a different person before everything. I didn’t need any reassurance with who I was or how I looked. I wasn’t shy before the Mistake. My mistake. I didn’t know how much I’d been holding back since returning. I guess dying tamed me.
But Jason doesn’t tame me. And his arms around me, warm skin against mine, I feel sexier than ever. I am Stephanie again. 

sniktpop:

Happy Valentine’s, Steph! <33333 I hope you like this bhnlkjewr

Laying next to him, I feel whole. And it’s not the cliche post-romantic night complete with happy fun times or that that I need that sort of thing to feel like myself. But it does feel, well, good but in more ways than just that. 

It’s the way he looks at me when we’re together, running his eyes over me that makes me want his fingers to follow. He caresses my scars instead of scoffs at them because he can match them. He doesn’t mind the mistakes painted on my body.

I wonder if he knows how much he heals me with that touch. And his words. He makes me feel beautiful in all the cliched ways and more. 

I was a different person before everything. I didn’t need any reassurance with who I was or how I looked. I wasn’t shy before the Mistake. My mistake. I didn’t know how much I’d been holding back since returning. I guess dying tamed me.

But Jason doesn’t tame me. And his arms around me, warm skin against mine, I feel sexier than ever. I am Stephanie again. 

(Source: cosmowitch, via gothambeat)

Feb 24

"Why do you hang around this blasted tower anyway?" Zatara demanded. "What have the Titans ever done for you?"

"Just shut up and get me to the medical wing," Mia snapped, trying not to wince. He wasn’t being gentle as she pulled her through the hallways to the darkened room. 

"Sthgil no," he commanded and the lights snapped on. 

"There’s a light switch."

"There’s also a thing called ambulances, of which I am not so do shut up."

He pushed her onto the table and then stood there, staring at her.

The pain in her leg surged with the movement and she bit down on her lip, then looked up when he didn’t move. “Use the X-ray machine, you idiot!”

"I don’t magically know these things you know," he retorted and looked around for it. He bent down to look under the table and Mia kicked him with her good leg. "Ow!"

"Over there!" she pointed.

He rubbed his head. “I don’t think I’m inclined to help you anymore!”

"Zatara!"

"Fine!" He threw his hands up and walked over to the control panel. "Which of these buttons is it?"

"I don’t know, try ‘Start X-ray’."

"They aren’t marked."

"Then push one of them." Her leg throbbed hot and she pressed her wrist to her mouth. It was running through her head now; pain, bleeding, infection, hospitals, death. Over and over. She pushed it to the side, trying to focus on the tower. 

"Yar-x trats," she heard him mumble and a whirling sound began. "Oh, I didn’t actually think that would work."

The machine lowered from the ceiling and pointed at her leg. The sound flooded her mind like a racing torrent and she could see waterfalls and race cars and anything else to distract from the pain when something touched her face and she started. Zatara’s gloves were soft and smooth against skin and his brows knit together in concern.

“Are you alright?”

"It hurts," she said and cranked her neck to see the pictures of her shattered leg. Surgery was all she saw, surgery and major issues. Ollie made her give blood like clockwork in case the job required massive blood loss but surgery meant infection. She swallowed both in a pain and fear.

"Let me try something," he said. He stepped back and closed his eyes, holding his hands out over her.

"You could try with the morphine," she said. 

"Shush, this is very hard. I don’t have my uncle’s concentration." His eyes still closed, he took a deep breath. Moments passed and Mia winced at the growing pain. It surged until she didn’t feel the table under her and the medical smell disappeared. She had to be losing consciousness because it brought on a different scent, one she couldn’t place like electricity and cinnamon. Zatara’s eyes glowed blue.

"Dnem eht kaerb," he said in a voice too deep.

And then nothing. The room felt the same and the air felt calmer. There was nothing. No more strangeness and no more pain.

Mia sat up and felt her leg. It was solid and not gone like she feared. She bent it and it worked, no swelling, no marks at all.

"Zatara, you did it." She smiled at him but it disappeared as he fell toward the table, barely catching himself. "Zach?"

He took a few deep breaths, his face pale. “My magic doesn’t work on living creatures,” he said under the sweat.

"It worked here," she said, her turn to help him.

"Oh good." And with that he fainted.

"You feel it too, don’t you?" His eyes widened so that more light caught the blue. His tone was guarded and heavy. 

He didn’t have to speak of what. Mia felt the pull towards him. There was something connecting the air between them, always something pulling. Romantics would call it a red string but Mia wondered if it was because they were both standing on the cracks of a universe. 

"Whatever I feel," she said, "it’s not exactly positivity."

The magnetic tug held a lot with it, all jarring and electric that if she thought too long it’d sting her eyes. 

"But it is something," he said and moved closer. She pulled her arm away from his reach but he took it anyway. A jolt ran through her and more emotion she couldn’t recognize. He felt warm despite the layers between them from his glove to her sleeve but suddenly it felt like skin on skin. Zatara dropped his hold like it burned. "The bloody hell is that?"

"The world changed," Mia said. "We’ll never really know, huh?"

It felt like heartbreak. Like a thousand things that didn’t make sense all hurt to be forgotten. They hadn’t existed, Raven and the others had confirmed that much. But before that they did. And in whatever book that universe belonged in, before this new one started writing their lives, there was a story between the two of them. A story they’d never be able to remember. 

"I don’t like it." He stepped back and adjusted his hat, composing himself for a crowd that wasn’t there. His performance issues, to treat the world as a stage, annoyed her. 

"Guess you should stay away, then," she said. It would make it less complicated, less hard. More lonely.

"As you wish," he snarked with a bow. "Yawa morf ereh."

She tried not to feel the string snap.

Feb 19

She says it’s for the best. Not Stephanie, Stephanie doesn’t say that. Not in her own voice, in her mother’s echoing throughout her head. It’s for the best. 

And she compares him to her father. But it’s in all the ways they aren’t alike, like the way he cares about his little sister and doesn’t lock her in closets when she gets upset or the way he shares his money with the people who mean something to him.

And she meant something to him. It makes it worse. So much worse because she can feel the betrayal inside her like a cancer, growing every day she stays away from him because “it’s for the best” (her mother says). 

She doesn’t stay in costume and some nights doesn’t even touch it. She’ll dress in black or purple, with hoods that mask her face. They’re suffocating now, after wearing a cowl for so long, and the fabric is heavy and hot. But she can’t be Batgirl while she feels like such a villain.

She has a reason and she keeps repeating it. Whenever she starts to wander in his area, wishing to see his face she does and it’s the vengeful, hateful, frightening face of a cold-hearted murderer. It stops her cold and she retreats again. It’s only been a week. Two? But she’s afraid of him. Not him, of what he could be. That monster she never believed in, a boogeyman made real. He has the right intentions but-

She’s losing it, losing herself, in this relationship. She’s seeing the world through his eyes and she used to like it, felt understood but she doesn’t want that anymore, doesn’t want that anger. Past choices she was okay with, Roman deserved it, are haunting her. Was she a good person? Was it worth it?

And she doesn’t know. She thought so.

But it’s her mother’s voice inside her head. “It’s for the best,” her mother said. “It’s for the best.” But inside her soul was grey and dead.

Feb 13

For Jackie. This is terrible. I’ve never written this type of thing. And I can’t stare at it anymore and I’m sorry it’s poorly written.

Read More

Feb 02

herestoyoumsholly asked you:
Steph saving Jason and/or Jason saving Steph. And then maybe talking about Titans membership over mashed potatoes or something. :)

There wasn’t time to reconsider and Stephanie wasn’t about to. The blast had sent Jason backwards through the wall into a hundred story free fall above 11th Avenue and Stephanie was hurling herself after him. Bad guys be damned as the wind hit her face and eyes watered too much to see past the black blur of his body below hers.

The smoke stung her lungs just as much but it wasn’t an obstacle  not in saving him. The whole world could be falling with her, yelling in her ear like over-bearing chemistry professors and she’d never lose focus of him, there, below her, falling, burning, just out of reach…

And then she had him, or his jacket anyway, and as she was grabbing hold of more of him she was firing her grapple too for both of them. He was warm and smoking and she couldn’t see movement behind his cracking helmet while they kept falling. Finally the grapple tugged and she held tighter, desperate not to loose him but his weightlessness was suddenly so much heavier. 

The roof couldn’t come fast enough and she knew how to land without hurting him. She didn’t want to move him, the list of possible injuries running through her head and at the top was neck, but she needed to see him to make sure.

"Jason," she called into his darkness and then again when he didn’t respond. His chest was breathing and his sleeve on fire - she patted it out quickly with her hand - and her hands felt around his neck carefully. "Jason please."

She heard cough and he jerked and if he had a neck injury he’d be a goner by now so she peeled his helmet away, releasing trapped smoke and sweat.

"Jason, dammit, don’t do that again." 

He blinked behind his second mask, coughing, and looked for her in the blur. 

"Was I just the princess?" he asked in a raspy voice.

Dec 06

Anonymous said: Mia - Enraged, Confused, Devastated

Blood trickled from where Mia’s arrowhead pierced his throat.

"You killed him." Her voice was level. The rage behind her eyes was fully heard in her tone as she stared down Brother Blood. Her hand was steady, too steady for everything she was taught, everything she was as a hero. Echoes of her mentor filled her mind and she understood it, this hate, this absolute need to rid the world of someone-something so evil.

The empty look of Zach’s eyes was all she could see. The Tower torn apart. She couldn’t find the other Titans, couldn’t find a reason, nothing but him. What was left standing was used to keep Speedy away as he tried to defeat her like he had her friends. She pressed on, corning him. If she hadn’t seen Zach’s body lying on the ground, if she had been thinking clearer she might’ve seen the defensive tone to all of his spells, might have realized his deviations from past movements.

But the anger and pain consumed her until she stood above him, inches away from his artery, staring down a choice she had no right to make.

"I should put this through your skull," she said. "I should split it open like you deserve. But I’ll leave you to bleed and if you’re lucky, it’ll be quick."

Her string relaxed slightly as she backed away from him, trying to fight the anger that wanted still to pierce his heart.

"Mia…" he said but in a voice not his own. It was soft, with an air faux sophistication that Zach had perfected, even when wounded. She stared at the boy, bloodied and pale as the illusion began to fade and his face melted back to someone familiar.

"No," she said, falling to her knees, trying to block the wounds she had given him. "No, Zach, what’s-?"

"An illusion on the tower," he coughed. "I couldn’t stop all of them." He cringed when she touched him, defenseless without his magic. "You’re very aggressive, you know." He tried to smile but she knew the damage she had done, could see it in his eyes as they weren’t able to focus on his face any longer.

Anonymous said: Tim Drake - Cold, Dark, Alone

The batcave homed more than just its animal namesake and since Tim had uncovered Bruce’s secret, he had first looked at it as a base and then as a second home. The lights fought away the heaviest shadows on the main floors.

But after Bruce’s death, the cave had never felt more like rock and shadows. Tim lingered in the silence left by Dick and Damian, trying to discover what was missing.