1 - 20 of 76 Works by orpheusaki
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Bruce turns the safety back on, but he doesn't put down the gun. Instead, he keeps it in the air, aiming it steadily at the spot he'd just shot at. Despite the mannequin being very much not real, Bruce watches it warily, like it's going to pull out its own weapon in retaliation.
“Look closer,” Bruce says quietly.
Jason frowns, following the invisible red dot at the muzzle of the gun. He has to squint for a moment, trying to work out where in the stuffied body of the mannequin the bullet would've hit, until he realises where Bruce is aiming. Dread fills his gut, an irrational and inexplicable pool of fear congealing disgustingly in every empty crevice of his body.
Bruce is aiming for the head.
(When Jason is thirteen, Bruce teaches him how to shoot a gun.)
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"Ugh, fuck," Red Hood groans in pain, trying to stand up only to lose balance and collapse onto the table again, "Your roof made of fucking paper or something?"
Andrew stares down at the vigilante, then up at the massive hole in their ceiling, before finally turning to Gabriel with a scowl, still not entirely convinced this is actually happening, "Gabriel. You told me you fixed the roof three weeks ago, after we had that leak."
Gabriel gapes at him, "That's what you're worried about? Not the fact that the Red Hood just landed on our coffee table?"
(When in Gotham, the chances of Red Hood falling through your roof is slim, but never zero.)
Series
- Part 4 of ON THE OUTSIDE ALWAYS LOOKING IN.
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“You're American?” The young man turns to him. Despite the faint ringing in his ears, Bruce hears the man's tone of slight displeasure, and suspicion, at the fact.
Wiping his cheek with the back of his hand and grimacing at the sting and blood that comes away, Bruce sighs, “And you're English. What an awful pair we make.”
It was the right amount of wit and humorous self deprecation, since the stranger grins in response, “Pleasure to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Military, Bruce assumes, shaking the hand firmly, “Thomas Malone.” he introduces himself with a polite nod.
“Alfred Pennyworth,” the young man replies, eyes narrowing when Bruce startles and squeezes his hand a little too tight. Holy shit.
(Bruce gets sent fifty years into the past and meets a familiar stranger.)
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A LITTLE WILLPOWER. by orpheusaki
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types
14 Oct 2024
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"You!” Damian scoffs in outrage, shaking his head, “You're the man engaged to my father.”
Hal stops mixing the hot chocolate powder into the warm milk, turning around slowly to face the boy. He's so confused, he can only try to decode one part of that sentence at a time, “Your father? Like, your father, Batman? That one?”
Wrong point to focus on it seems, since Damian's scowl deepens to an impossible degree, “Are you seeing multiple other men that you need me to clarify?!”
“No! I'm not seeing any men!” Hal tries to reason, before realising that he's having the strangest conversation with Robin, of all people.
(Due to some misunderstandings, Hal is now engaged to Batman and a stepfather of five, allegedly.)
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“You just gotta wait three days,” Dick shrugs, “You'll be claimed.”
Tim's hold on his spoon tightens, and he looks away so they don't have a chance to see his crushed expression, “How can you be so sure?”
A snort brings his attention back to the two camp councillors in front of him. When Tim looks up to glare at them for finding his concern an amusing affair, he realises they're not laughing at him. In fact, they're sharing a fond sort of look between each other, like there's something about this whole thing that's familiar.
Dick looks back at him, expression kind despite the heavy look behind his eyes, “There are no unclaimed children at this camp.”
(Tim Drake is a newly orphaned demigod, though not for long.)
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“Ah shit,” Stephanie's unmistakable voice, the same stunted line, the same disappointed tone, “He's breathing again.”
The Joker coughs. It rattles at his broken ribs, making him choke on the blood and sick in his mouth, but it's proof of his victory — so the cough morphs into a sickening laugh. He says something that's more of a grumble than words, but Helena clicks her teeth loudly.
“We should have let him die,” She says stiffly.
Bruce closes his eyes for a moment, disappointment found in the creased stress of his face, then, relief.
Despite Dick's best efforts, Joker is alive. Again.
(Dick kills the Joker. Then again. And again. And—)
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TRICKERY BETWEEN THE LINES. by orpheusaki
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types
18 Aug 2024
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“But now what will I wear when I go out into the cold?” Hal asks jokingly with a raised brow, staring at the coat now stolen from him.
Bruce pretends to mull it over, brushing the back of his hand against Hal's arm, the hills of his knuckles brushing against the tweed, “You'll just have to wear mine for the time being. It suits you.”
If Hal raises his brow any further, he runs the risk of it flying off his forehead entirely, but his surprise is only fueled further by the fire in Bruce's irises, “That's awfully possessive, even for you.”
“Is it?” Bruce asks, pulling his arm away.
(Hal's first date with Bruce goes as well as anyone expected — not. It ends better.)
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“I haven't seen this many stars since I was a child,” Damian mumbles, his ice cream melting over his wrist, not that he seems to notice or care, “Gotham's too dark to see them.”
Despite the unofficially decided rule to steer away from the obviously sore topic, Kitty can't help but ask, “Is the rest of your family still in Gotham?”
“Some of them,” Damian answers after a beat.
“You should bring them here,” Kitty whispers back, “Show them the sky.”
(Many years later, Damian buys a farm far away from Gotham.)
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YOU LOOK SO PRETTY FROM AFAR. by orpheusaki
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types
20 Jul 2024
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“Can I help you?” Hal asks after he catches the man staring again.
He'd been right to think the man hadn't been entirely adverse to catching Hal's attention, since he doesn't seem embarrassed at being noticed, almost like he was being the least bit inconspicuous on purpose.
“Sorry,” the stranger says, hardly apologetic at all, “You… look like someone I know.”
Hal snorts, “Must be one handsome fellow,” he jokes with a shrug, knowing being vain is only charming if it's true.
It seems to work, since the man's indifferent expression falters, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement as he hums deeply. Maybe it's just a trick of the light, but his baby blues seem to twinkle mischievously, “Some would say so.”
(Hal meets a guy in an expensive suit who has a thing for chilli dogs.)
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Jason doesn't move from Bruce's side until the man opens his eyes seven hours later. He did it once before, but was fast asleep before anyone could say anything. This time, Jason watches his fingers twitch, then as a grimace stretches across his face.
Finally, dazed and scared, Bruce blinks up at him, “Jay?”
Jason holds onto his hand, and squeezes, “Yeah. I'm here.”
(Bruce returns from the kind-of dead and Jason takes it upon himself to pick up the pieces.)
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"How old are you anyway?"
Bruce smirks a little, “Pretty old.”
“How old am I?” Dick rephrases the question. Realistically, given the lines on Bruce's face and the grey in his hair, he has to be more than a decade or two in the future. But, well, Dick's still reeling from being twelve. He can't begin to imagine a world where there's anything past tomorrow.
Bruce's smirk sinks a little, but not quite to a frown. It's a distant smile, fighting through the shadows of whatever it is Bruce sees when he looks down at him. In a quiet, mournful tone, he says, “Not that old. Not old at all.”
(A young Robin and Nightwing swap places; Batman is always the constant.)
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“Dude,” Marshall laughs, though he's too nervous to keep it going long enough to sound believable, “What'll the teachers think? Perfect student Nathan Burnett corrupts resident bad boy.”
Nathan scoffs, exhaling slowly as he looks over at Marshall haphazardly, “You are not the resident bad boy.”
The cigarette is almost at its end, held precariously between Nathan's fingers, and Marshall's staring at it with purpose. The cigarette, that is. Nathan's hands are as pale and spindly, trembling minutely as always with a slight dent on his index from holding a pen wrong and hard. A writer's hand.
So, maybe Marshall is staring at Nathan's fingers a little too intensely, because Nathan misunderstands and holds the burning cigarette towards him, “Want a hit?”
(The first time Marshall smokes, it's with Nathan.)
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"Let it be known that I completely detest the implications of what this situation is mirroring," Red Hood grumbles to himself and it's the longest string of words Duke has heard from any so-called Gotham vigilante, let alone the one who's known for shooting more than he is talking.
"The fuck?" Duke mutters, because if he's already going to die, he might as well try and make sense of it.
"I'm not going to care about whatever sob story you have," is what Red Hood replies with instead of explaining, "Where are your parents?"
"Gone," is all Duke says, because it's really none of this guy's business. It's also the truth.
Somehow, Red Hood sounds even more anguished about this information than Duke is, "Ah shit."
(Duke steals the tires off Red Hood's bike and somehow gains a family.)
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"Come on," the boy whispers pleadingly, holding up what looks like a half eaten apple in an attempt to coax Ace out of her pen, though it seems to no avail. She stands with as much indifference and care as a brick wall.
Bruce, who's been around for enough decades that he thinks he might be constituted as old by mythological terms, has never had someone outright try to rob his horse. His armour, sure, sometimes even his weapons and bags — though no one makes it very far on broken legs with either.
But his horse?
It's so bizarre, in fact, that Bruce can't stop the bubbling laughter rip out of his throat.
(A young Jason Todd tries to steal the Bat's horse.)
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I'M THE BOY WHO CRIES WOLF TONIGHT. by orpheusaki
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, tim drake: robin
23 Nov 2023
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“Clinical lycanthropy is a very rare delusion to develop,” Bruce argues, looking more and more uncomfortable the longer he's subjected to this conversation. Had it not been for Bernard's shaking frame, perhaps the man would have tried to disappear by now.
Bernard can't quite hide his scowl, “I'm not saying Tim's delusional!”
“You just implied my son likes howling at the moon,” Bruce states tiredly.
“Yeah,” Bernard rolls his eyes, “Because he's a werewolf.”
(Bernard notices something off about Tim recently.)
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Then, when Bruce is almost certain Jason's asleep and is starting to doze off to the faint rumble of the car engine, he blinks awake to hear the quietest mumble of, “I miss you.”
Bruce frowns, peering down at the boy. Jason follows his sudden confession with a small snore, completely knocked out against Bruce's chest. If not for the way Alfred glances back at them as well, Bruce would've thought that maybe he imagined it.
But he hadn't, and while confused, he tightens his arm around the boy, “I'm right here Jason. We're going home.”
All Jason does is snore in reply.
(Jason seems to miss Bruce an awful lot, even when he's right there.)
Series
- Part 2 of BOY WITH THE SUN SONG.
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FALL FROM ON HIGH (TO FIND THE RIGHT PERSPECTIVE). by orpheusaki
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types
24 Oct 2023
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"Drive us off the pier," Bruce instructs, with a frightening level of quietude.
Jason didn't seem to inherit the 'calm in the face of utter destruction' trait, since he grabs Bruce by the cape and looks a second away from throttling him, "Are you insane?"
"Either we drive into the water or into one of these buildings potentially filled with something explosive," Bruce states firmly, "Drive us off the pier."
In any other situation, Duke might have considered his options more heavily. Surely there's something else they can do before trying to swim in Gotham's biohazardous water.
(The Batmobile doesn't float, Duke learns the hard way.)
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"It's not."
Jason swallows thickly, "What?"
"My parents death is not the worst thing to ever happen to me," Bruce reiterates, as calm as Jason has ever seen him, eerily indifferent to the topic. But it's his eyes that remind Jason of the situation at hand, the way they're wide and glassy, pale blue eyes screaming for the words to stop.
They don't stop; "Losing you," Bruce continues, unblinking to Jason's expression of absolute horror, "Is the worst thing to ever happen to me."
Pain should not be quantifiable. It's with sinking hatred and pity, does Jason realise, guilt shouldn't be measurable either.
(Batman is hit with truth serum, Jason reacts to the consequences.)
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Dick is overwhelmed for a moment, filled with clarity and inexplicable confusion as he blinks around him bleary-eyed. There's the familiar itching covering his skin, tiny grains of dark sand invading the cuts that have torn through his suit from the crash.
He coughs, throat dry and closing with every gasp of harsh air. The desert is as unforgivable as the last time he was here, an empty expanse of dunes that might just be a trick of the heavy sun against the back of his neck. Dick pushes the panic away behind his eyelids, savoring the darkness before opening his eyes again.
Immediately, he sees Tim.
Unconscious, hunched over, covered in blood and sand Tim.
(Dick and Tim get stranded in the desert, Dick is always moving forward.)
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On Jason's feet, are no longer the new shiny red trainers Bruce bought him, but his old and frayed shoes instead. They look even more decrepit now that the boy's actually wearing them, and it's a miracle they didn't rip apart when he put them on.
Something in Bruce cracks a little, but he's always been a good actor. He pushes the worry that he's missing something important somewhere else and smiles at the boy, "Got everything you need?"
Jason lets out a barely perceptible sigh of relief, and Bruce only notices it because he was looking for it, evidently glad Bruce doesn't mention the change in footwear, "Yeah! Let's go."
(Bruce really can't stand Jason's shoes.)