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completelyandtotalyuneventful · 2 years

Note

In your fic where tim kill joker i would love to see how Jason reacts

There was no beta reading at all here. Like I didnt even read back over it, so sorry if it’s rough.

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It’s 2:15 am, April 28th, when Jason Todd wakes up in his own grave.

It’s not a necessarily pleasant experience, to be honest. In fact, he would go as far as to say it wasn’t enjoyable AT ALL.

The events that follow aren’t that pleasant, either.

But years later, after days upon days of fighting and bleeding through a haze of murky green, he’s finally back in Gotham. Finally back home. And he will avenge himself. Avenge Robin.

Except… it seems he’s a bit too late.

It’s 10:38 pm when Jason Todd finds out the joker is dead.

He’s been dead, actually. For a long time. He died the day Jason was reborn. A life for a life. A soul for a soul.

It was probably just a coincidence and not all of that universe bullshit, but Jason hasn’t really found a straight answer as to why he’s alive again anyways, so who cares.

Here’s what he knows:

Someone broke into (?) Arkham and killed the Joker on April 28th, about three years ago. The same day Jason clawed his way out of his own grave using nothing but a belt buckle and pure fear.

It wasn’t Batman.

The second fact makes him angrier than he could ever imagine. It makes him want to give up on his investigation and give into the green that pools at the edge of his vision every time he sees that mocking signal in the sky. But he stands his ground.

Here’s the third thing he knows: no one has any idea who did it.

It was a clean crime. Security cameras disabled, no traceable path towards the asylum, nothing. There was no trace left behind that could even hint at who had done it. The only ones who knew what happened that night were a dead clown and the martyr who killed him.

Maybe martyr was too strong of a word. It could have just been a hit, or an old grudge, but whoever did it and for whatever reason they did it, they were a hero. In Jason’s eyes, at least.

A quick scan into the bat computer proved that Bruce had no idea who it was either, which Jason found laughable. The so called ‘worlds greatest detective’ couldn’t find who killed the man whose life he valued over his own sons. It just made the case all the more interesting.

But he needs to take a pause, step back for a bit. There’s some business he needs to take care of, a plan to actually save Gotham, rather than enabling a never ending loop of crime and heartbreak like his father.

So Jason dumps all his research into a file on his shitty laptop, dons a red helmet, and chops some heads off.

It’s 1:50 am, July 19th, when The Red Hood realizes he’s being followed.

By a kid.

Teenager, the kid quickly corrects. Red Hood disagrees. He has to be 13, at most. Which he informs the other of.

The 15-year-old is surprisingly offended by this.

It’s 1:54 am, and the kid knows who is behind the helmet.

It’s 1:55 am, and Jason knows who killed the joker.

The kid - Tim Drake, as in the weird boy genius neighbor kid who was a grade behind Jason despite being 3 years younger - tells him everything that happened. The exact path he took, how much money he spent on rides, the people he saw, how he hacked into Arkham. Every moment, every minuet detail, the kid has ingrained into his brain.

He describes how the Joker looked in enough detail to keep The Pit fed for months.

It’s 2:10 am, and Jason’s laughing his ass off about how, not only did this kid hide his murder from The Almighty Batman, but that he’d actually been stalking them undetected for years before Jason’s death.

It’s 2:11 am, July 19th, when Jason finds out this date is significant to Tim. And that his parents have been out of town for about 3 months and don’t plan on coming back any time soon.

It’s 2:13 am, and Jason is waking back to his safe house tailed by a too-lonely-too-smart-for-his-own-good kid who he’s already started to view as a little brother, and he’s just promised the kid the best birthday he’ll ever have as a thank you for avenging his death. He hopes he can live up to Tim’s expectations.

It’s 12:14 am, and Jason Todd is no longer alone.

#jason todd #red hood #fanfic #tim drake #red robin #found family #the og fic is called 2:14 am April 28th on ao3 if anyones interested!

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illumiru · 3 years

Note

hi cami!! based on literally everything because you have good taste I was wondering if u had any fic recs?? I am in like a good fic desert and if u have any good reads would love to read them! thank u!!

Thanks!! I have to be honest that I don't read a lot of dc fics lately bc a lot of what's posted on AO3 doesn't appeal to me tbh. But I do have some favorites that live rent-free in my head. I hope you enjoy!

baby, it's a sign of the times by danishsweethearts

Dick Grayson has a pretty bad day, but hey, he's coping.

let your love grow tall by danishsweethearts

In a move endearingly predictable and highly amusing, Dick Grayson buys a bunch of plants and proceeds to pack bond with all of them.

cold was the night and hard was the ground by danishsweethearts

Laundromats are save points.

i've been longing for silence by danishsweethearts

The Titans are Dick's family. Damian is also Dick's family. Cue the collision.

un haeng il chi by danishsweethearts

un haeng il chi (언행일치) | yán xíng yī zhì (言行一致) idiom 1. word and actions coincide; to live up to one's word 2. to match words with deeds 3. practice what you preach

The Cassandra Wayne guide to truth-telling, manifestation and prosperity.

big d stands for big (demon)or by danishsweethearts

The one where Titans Tower is haunted, and Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder, original Robin, one and only Nightwing, esteemed leader, part-time exorcist, un-haunts it.

young volcanoes by dottie_wan_kenobi

You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s ten years old and hopeful. No, Bruce says. You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s fourteen and realistic. No, Bruce says. I’m going to join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s seventeen and furious. No, Bruce says. No, you are not.

Dick is nineteen now. And he’s not joining the Justice League—he’s joining the Titans.

the last of the real ones by dottie_wan_kenobi

Gar is like a blessing. He doesn’t seem to notice the shiny parts of Vic, not until it really counts—when there’s wires sticking out, something shoved through Vic like it was nothing, when he’s in danger. And even then, he treats them like any other part of the body, like a wound is a wound and it doesn’t matter that it’s not flesh, but technology.

When he asks, Gar tells him about Cliff Steele, and shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m just used to robot guys, I guess,” he says, flippant like he’s not the first person Vic has met who didn’t recoil at the sight of him.

Vic manages a laugh, his eye—his real eye, his human eye—stinging.

if you just call me by BeatriceEagle

“Dick.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Dick, look at me.”

Slowly, as if he were pushing against a terrible force, he lifted his head.

“I have known you since I was thirteen years old, and I have known you in a dozen other lifetimes, so I need you to believe me when I say that there is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

Dick held her gaze. He looked like he was searching for something in her eyes, so Donna held still and hoped he found it.

“Did you really know me in other lives?” he asked.

_____

Dick and Donna, after the action, through the years.

once upon a time... by Mayarene Rose (DickRoy)

The announcement is the talk of the kingdom. Men on horses, coming from the capital itself, shout it to every corner of the land to make sure everyone hears.

There will be a three-day festival held in honor of the crown prince’s name day!

So of course, no one can shut up about it and everyone’s making plans to make their way to the capital, one way or another.

Gotham, after all, isn’t known for its decadence. Celebrations from the capital are few and far in between. But, it’s also well known that the king absolutely dotes on his children. The has the makings of being the biggest feast anyone has seen in their lifetime.

“Huh,” Roy says. He’s in a farming village when he hears, about five days ride from the capital if he had a horse, which he does not.

Or the one where Roy is a knight errant, Dick is the crown prince, and there is a three-day celebration.

Dr. Wilson, Will I Ever Play the Violin Again? by HoodEx (DickJoey)

1 Missed Call 1:12 PM TUES 9 MAY Frank Hardy

A fond smile spreads over his face. He remembers Dick writing that as his own contact name in Joey's communicator the first time he and Joey exchanged numbers. Joey knows it's an action influenced by paranoia rather than something meant as an inside joke between friends, but he likes to think of it as a mixture of both.

"Who are you mooning over?"

Lissa crosses her arms over her chest and cuts across the room to get closer to him. Joey tries not to instinctually jerk his communicator closer to his chest as she peers down at it with a curious glint in her eye.

"Frank Hardy," Joey spells out with his fingers. "He's a friend of mine."

Her brow furrows. "Frank? Have I met him?"

Joey shakes his head.

"What do you think he was calling for?"

Hopefully not to tell me that the world is on its way to ending, Joey thinks, worrying at his lip.

"Not sure," Joey signs. His thumb hovers over the call-back button. "I guess I'm about to find out."

Red Letter Day by silverwhittlingknife

Dick Grayson, stressed pseudo-parent to a preteen assassin, tries to solve the case of Damian’s Mysterious Wednesday.

He never expected it to help him fix his relationship with Tim, too.

(... Though only after everything fell apart first.)

Eventual fix-it for Dick & Tim’s Red Robin fight, but other rocky relationships - Dick & Jason, Tim & Damian, Damian & Bruce, Dick & Bruce - wow, this family is dysfunctional - might improve too. Eventually. They just have to, y’know, work through All of Their Issues first. XD

Two of Six by silverwhittlingknife

There’s nothing special about this kid, no reason to remember him. But Dick remembers. Because of the photo.

Dick and Tim’s pre-nu52 relationship, from the beginning all the way to the end.

or: how Dick acquired a stalker, attempted to make him go away, and failed so badly that he acquired a brother instead.

(So far: missing scenes from childhood, Lonely Place of Dying, Knightfall, and Knightsend. Current arc: Prodigal.)

In the Palm of Your Hand by lapsedpacifist

Dick was forced into becoming a host for an entity of unknown strength, unknown motive, and unknown reach. The only thing he did know? It needed him alive.

Neurodegenerative series by lapsedpacifist

The general premise: Bruce has completely forgotten about Dick, and Dick only. Now tension is high between them and the rest of the family as they attempt to resolve the memory problem -- while drawing battlelines and realising that Dick had always been much more than a brother to them all.

the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul

"WHAT MAKES IAGO EVIL? some people ask. I never ask."

— Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays

Or: Dick, his family, and the moral morass of a wishing well.

This is all I could think of at the moment! I'll add more once I read the ones I encountered while I made this list. Enjoy!!

#anon.txt #fic recs

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batfamily-trash · 5 years

Text

Don’t Need Them To Save You

Summary: Jason and Reader go out on date (Movie, dinner, romantic stuff) when the Riddler decides to kidnap the reader because why not. Instead of going to the Batfam for help he goes solo

Warning: Language I think, blood, being buried alive

Part 1 of 2

Date nights with Jason were the best nights. All the stress of being a vigilante goes down the drain while you two were together. But particularly tonight, you weren’t in the mood for a date. Bruce had assigned you a case and you were determined to solve it.

Jason tried every single way he knew to bribe you so you could leave whatever you were working on for another night. Tonight he wanted to spend the rest of the day with you. Whether you liked it or not; you needed a break. The case could wait. Jason… not so much.

Eventually, you agreed to go on the date with him. It took a lot of bribing but you finally accepted. As long as it wasn’t something to fancy or public; cause recently you’ve been getting a lot of attention from the paparazzi. A con of being friends with the Wayne family.

After you had gotten ready, Jason took you to the movie theater to see a movie you have been wanting to watch since it was announced. And you had an amazing time!

Once the movie finished you thought the date was over but Jason had something else planned for you.

By the time you and Jason left the movie theater, it was 8 pm. The moon was already up and shining brightly in the night sky. In all your years of living in Gotham, you didn’t take the time to admire it. Gotham could be a beautiful city most of the time.

You took a deep breath of air before putting on your motorcycle helmet and climbing on behind Jason.

“Are you ready princess/prince?” He asked you.

“Yeah,” You said wrapping your arms around him. Jason then revved the motorcycle engine and took down the street.

You enjoyed motorcycle rides with Jason. They were calm and peaceful. Occasionally. Sometimes they were filled with adrenaline and danger. It just depended on the occasion and if you and Jay were late for something. Which was almost always. Distractions were everywhere.

Just as you felt your worries go away you saw a white van with a bright green question mark pulling up next to you guys.

“Shit,” you cursed. Apparently, someone didn’t like you. Jason quickly glanced over his shoulder and sped up once he saw the van. Whoever was driving the van was not going to give up easily.

Everytime you and Jay seemed to be safe the van would just appear out of nowhere. Eventually, Jason lead them off the main streets to lose them quicker. Little did he know that that’s what your pursuers wanted. Just as Jason was taking a turn towards an alley, multiple cars showed up and surrounded you.

Jason pulled out a gun he always kept on him, but before he could unlock the safety someone shot it out of his hand. You turned to look behind you and saw the Riddler himself.

“Well if it isn’t y/n l/n and her boy toy,” Ed said walking towards you. You glared at Ed while Jason somehow pulled you closer to him. He was tense and nervous. So were you. “Loverboy why don’t you let y/n go and go away.”

“Why don’t you and you’re posse go piss off someone else?” Jason retorted. Riddler smirked and signaled for his men. Some guys pulled out guns and aimed them at you and Jason while some tried, keyword tried, to pull you away from him.

“Either you stop struggling and cooperate or we kill you. Your choice,” Riddler said twirling his cane around. You stopped struggling in fear of them shooting Jason and gave him a pleading look when you saw that he wasn’t going to stop. At this point, Ed’s henchmen had taken your helmet off and threw it somewhere.

“Jason! Just stop! Leave him alone!” you shouted. Jason stopped for a second and caught your gaze. You were crying, you were scared. Scared for him; you didn’t want to lose him. And that second was long enough for someone to take a shot at him.

You screamed as they carried you to a van. Jason fell onto the ground. He tried to get up as the van took off but the rest of the henchmen that stayed behind began to beat him up. A minute later someone dropped down on two guys knocking them out while another person approached Jason just as he started to lose consciousness.

“Hey, Jason. Jason stay awak….”

After Riddler had Jason shot, he and his henchmen knocked you out. So you had absolutely no clue where you were. But you kinda got an idea when you woke up in an unclosed wooden box with Edward Nygma looking down at you.

“What the hell?”

“Ah, good afternoon y/n! Now before I finish my magnificent plan answer me this,” Riddler started. “A vivid reality, a naked morality, a place where wishes come true. What am I?”

Seriously? You thought. You sighed and answered, “Is it a dream?”

“So you’re not as stupid as I thought,” he said. You scoffed and propped yourself onto your elbows.

“No shit Sherlock,” you said glaring at him. Ed grinned and shoved you back into the box. “Now-now-now, we can’t have you escaping yet, so do me a favor and stay still for a minute.”

Before you could protest, someone handed Ed his cane which he used to knock you out. Ed took a step back and pulled a video camera out of his pocket and handed it to one of his men. “Put this in there. Make sure it’s on and that it’s facing them. After that put the top on and finish the job,” he said sternly.

“Yes sir,” the henchman said taking the camera. Ed smiled and walked back to his car. This was going to be fun! Now all he had to do was to get ready for the show.

Jason woke up with a start. He frantically scanned the room for your presence, silently praying that the events from earlier that day were just a nightmare. When he saw Duke he calmed down a bit.

“What… where’s y/n?” Jason asked worriedly.

“We’re trying to find them,” Duke answered.

“We?”

“Cass, and Barbara….”

“Wait, where am I?” He asked. He tried to get up but the pain on his side stopped him.

“You’re in my apartment. I figured you wouldn’t want to go to the Batcave,” Barbara said walking into the room. “And don’t get up, you’re going to pull your stitches.”

Jason grumbled something before attempting to get up again. This time he managed to through the pain. “I’m not going to rest until I find y/n.”

Barbara sighed and walked out of the room, Duke following behind her. Jason hissed as he walked out after them. He blamed himself for letting them take you.

Once he got to the living room, Duke told him everything they had figured out while he was knocked out. Which wasn’t much. Riddler had it out for you, but no one knew why. Well, not yet.

“Do you guys have a location for Riddler?” Jason asked.

“No, but I have a program going through every security footage in the city looking for the van they escaped in,” Babs said, barely looking up from her laptop. Jason sighed and sat down next to Duke who was currently looking for any signs of you and the Riddler on social media.

“Guys turn on the tv,” Duke said. Jason looked at him confused but obliged. The first thing that showed up when he turned the tv on was Edward Nygma himself.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen! Today’s occasion is the funeralof y/n l/n! That’s right Bruce Wayne’s lovely friend.”

The screen changed from Ed to you panicking in your makeshift coffin. Immediately it changed back to a smiling Riddler.

Jason got up and walked backed to the bedroom in anger. “Jason, what are you doing?” Duke asked.

“I’m going for y/n,” Jason answered retrieving his clothes.

“Jason you are in no condition to go out there!” Barbara exclaimed. Jason knew she was right, but right now nothing mattered but getting you.

“Don’t care.”

“At least let us help,” Duke said.

“No offense Duke but I’d rather do this myself besides isn’t it past your bedtime?” Jason said making his way out of the apartment through the window. Duke and Barbara tried to convince him to stay put but failed.

“What do we do?” Duke asked.

“We inform Bruce and everyone else, and stay out of his way for now,” Barbara answered going back for her computer, “He’ll need our help at some point.”

Jason repeated the riddle multiple times. Until he had it memorized. What has branches and leaves and no bark?

He thought about the answer for a bit before taking off to the Gotham Library. It was a simple riddle really, not hard enough. As a teen, you would go to the library almost every day. That’s where you met Jason, so of course, the Riddler was going to choose the library for a riddle.

Once in the library, Jason began looking for the next riddle. It didn’t take him long to find something that didn’t belong. He crept towards the lonely phone on one of the tables and turned it on.

“Congratulations Mr. Wayne! You’ve completed my first riddle! Now for the second riddle, What won’t run long without winding?” the prerecorded video said, “You only have twenty minutes.

When the video finished Jason shattered the phone and cursed. The riddle was easy considering the Riddler was using riddles that have been used before. The problem was which one? Couldn’t Riddler be more specific considering there are about 7 different rivers in Gotham?

All Jason knew was that the riddles were meant for Bruce and the riddles had something to do with you. The only connection you had with a river was the time you and Jay went Channel Park and Damian had “accidentally” pushed into the East River. That’s where the next riddle would be.

Riddler had given “Bruce” twenty minutes to find the next riddle and Jason had spent five minutes figuring out which river. Now all he had to do was get there in time.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #batfamily #the riddler x reader #the riddler #edward nygma #dont need them to save you

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aspiratinganxiety · 6 years

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Can I request the sleepover head canon ?💕

Of course you can, baby doll! I am sorry it took me so long to get to it…

Anyway, I am writing these headcanons as though the reader and the character are already in an established relationship. Rather than offer a play by play of what sharing a night with this character looks like, I’m instead breaking down how the topic of overnight stays developed or effects the relationship between the reader and their partner.

If you were wanting platonic interactions or some first time sleeping over imagines, please let me know! Also, I tend to write female insert characters unless otherwise directed or inclined.

If you’d like this same prompt with a male s/o, please tell me.

Also, I ran out of steam before getting to Damian. I may very well come back to add him to this post. For now though, it is 3:17 am, and your girl is tired.

Now, this prompt is the letter S from @imagine-mcu‘s alphabet of headcanon prompts. Thank you, imagine-mcu. I am grateful for the access to this resource, and I hope you don’t mind that I am using it for DC materials 😂

Dick:

-Listen, you are positive that you’re not the first girlfriend whose home Richard Grayson has quietly annexed. There’s a method, okay? A foolproof strategy designed to optimize the amount of time he has with you at every opportunity.

-As far as he’s concerned, it is the only logical way to progress in a relationship that he deems serious. His line of work is perilous, dammit. He’s a patient man, but he’s not a friggin’ saint. Tiptoeing through the awkward do-si-do of “should I stay or should I go?” every single time the two of you wind up fooling around in one or the other’s apartment is a waste of effort that could be geared toward activities that are much, much more fun.

-Even before you outright know that he’s Nightwing (you heavily suspect), Dick’s begun the invasion. First, he always wants to stay at your place. Works for you. Sleeping in your own bed is a gift, and he has a lot less to worry about in terms of hygiene maintenance.

-Why fight an agreeable tide?

-And that’s just what he counts on for Phase 2. He wants to keep a change of clothes and some extra toiletries around your place now that it’s the go-to.

-Some pajamas.

-Maybe a jacket and a pair or three of socks.

-Oh, yeah! He forgot to mention that Bruce sometimes calls him into the WE office on short notice to contract with the sub-company under his name. Could he have a sliver of your closet for a suit? He does’t want it to get wrinkled in the drawer you cleared out for his things.

-Sure, normal enough… except that you’ve only been dating for a month n’ a half. Exclusively for a scant three weeks (Your last boyfriend lived out of a duffel bag that you kept by the shoe rack in your front room for 9 months before you even let him have the drawer).

-Whatever. You and Dick both keep tight schedules, and it’s not as though anything is feeling rushed or overwhelming. Just the opposite: you feel like you can’t spend enough time with him!

-You quickly make a habit of using his man-smell soap for a change of pace on occasion. Or a spritz of his cologne here and there when it’s been a busy week and you miss him, even though it’s only been 4 days since he was last there. 2 days since your lunch date.

-Shut up.

-You haven’t quite mapped out the rest of the moves that he put into play, but before you know what’s happening, nearly all of the space in your weensy, Tupperware container of an apartment is divided equally between you and your boyfriend of less than three months.

-All of this to say that Dick’s sleepovers don’t feel like sleepovers, they’re just Tuesdays. Or Saturdays. Or Wednesdays. Whatever the hell day he shows up, lets himself in with the spare key that you didn’t so much as hesitate to have made for him, and goes about eating all of your Frosted Flakes.

Jason:

-Sleepovers are rare for Jason toward the beginning of your relationship. Not just because he accidentally punched you in his sleep once, though that did put the kibosh on overnight visits for a while. The predominant reasoning that he cited when apologetically declining one of your invitations involved his hours being flipped completely around. Most nights, when sleepovers are meant to be happening, Jason is hard at work sussing out the details of a case or running a patrol.

-Simply put, he felt like there was no reason for him to be skulking in and out of your place in the dead of night, disrupting your rest, just because he’s chosen to live one doozy of an unorthodox life.

-However, this noble resolve deteriorates quickly.

-Jason’s dedication and the singular advantage of being the only full-time vigilante in the whole batfamily also means that he’s out of the country on lengthy, long distance assignments more often than any of the others.

-The nights Jason gets home from these missions had proven to be the best time for you to arrange overnight stays. Days, sometime weeks of being completely out of contact with one another has a way of asserting all of the comforts and satisfactions that you find in your partner’s company, both physically and emotionally.

-He’s real weak to the line, “But baby, I’ve missed you so much!” too…

-10/10.

-It’s super effective!

-Look, it’s not like you pressed when you got the impression that he didn’t want to have you over or be at your place because he needed space to work through something risky or complicated.

-You’re not stupid or some spoiled, manipulative brat.

-Jason’s life is hard, painful, and incomprehensibly dangerous. He’s not looking to change one damn thing about that either. His lives exactly as he wants, minus some small tweaking here and there where old ghosts are concerned.

-You understood this from day one.

-Unfortunately, it took a much longer time for him to figure out that you didn’t give a single fuck about missed sleep or nosy neighbors assuming he was a drug-dealer and filing complaints because he buzzed in at 4 o’clock in the morning. With the way that he lived…

-No, because of the way that he lived, you wanted to capitalize on every single moment that he could bear to spend with you.

-Some people went lifetimes never knowing a love like the one you had for Jason. Hell would be seeing a snowstorm if you were gonna’ let the idiot continue to rob you of his presence because he was afraid of inconveniencing you.

-Once that was through his thick, self-depreciating skull, the need to orchestrate sleepovers was no longer necessary.

-You moved in together, renovating the loft he owned in the Cauldron district to be a bit more Welcome Home! and a lot less Marks with Bodyguards Cost Extra.

Tim:

-Oh, Tim.

-Sweet, wonderful, awkward, angel-baby Tim.

-The first time he slept over at your house, it was January. He passed clean out on your living room floor during a power-binge of Stranger Things that he had been apologetically procrastinating since the season release in October.

-You didn’t have the heart to wake him, not even when he started to drool, snore, and suddenly sit bolt upright, shouting?

-His proclamations made zero sense: something abstract about Scarecrow robbing some guy named Oswald of his prized Wyandotte laying hens.

-A cursory attempt to talk to him indicated that he was still, to your horror, fast asleep in spite of sitting perfectly straight on his own and lecturing you about the dangers of yellow scented candles.

-You settled him back down on your nest of blankets and flipped the TV off, loosely praying that this was some kind of fluke and you wouldn’t have to worry about your boyfriend accidentally leaping off of your balcony in a state of gibbering semi-consciousness.

-You messaged him in a panic when you woke the next morning to find him missing, terrified that he slept-walked into traffic while you caught some rest on the floor beside him. You detailed the entire scenario for him, omitting nothing to spare his pride. (The man had scared you nearly to death. His ego wasn’t exactly your top priority when he said he’d snuck out because he liked sleeping in his bed better than he liked your floor.)

- “Sexy, right?” he replied with a winky face.

-It wasn’t, he hadn’t, and he hasn’t ever since. The explanation: ”It only happens sometimes when I’m way too tired and I’ve had way too many energy shots.”

-Even so, that first experience proved to be surprisingly indicative of the bizarre occurrences that would befall you when Tim ended up sharing a night with you.

-First the sleep talking, then staying up all night crouched over his laptop like some kind of gremlin while you slept not three feet away, arguing about the benefits of avoiding blue light in order to actually let your brain power down, and, finally, physically wrestling you to keep you from putting his phone in your nightstand drawer so that he would just lay the F down and go to bed.

-Tim does his best to gracefully make it seem as though your bickering is all in good fun despite your very real frustration with his lack of ability to focus on spending time with you and disengaging from his crippling responsibilities to both Wayne Enterprises and the endeavors of the Batman himself.

-You’re honestly still working on it, but he does forfeit all internet capable devices after 9 pm while in your home.

-At first, it was out of obligation and only at your explicit request. Now though, having garnered some of the soundest, most rejuvenating sleep of his life every other week or so at your place, he tosses the phone in the drawer himself as you get ready to tuck in.

-Tim doesn’t know if it’s the regular sex or the down pillow-top on your mattress, but he can fall into blissful, dreamless unconsciousness in under half an hour by your side.

-Perhaps it’s the near ritualistic way that you insist on sharing a cup of chamomile tea before heading toward your room? Maybe the laundry detergent or the weight of your too fluffy comforter?

-Regardless, shortly after he’s eagerly relinquishing his tech in favor of a solid night’s sleep and some quality time with you, an uptick in his demeanor and proficiency appears.

-You find it endlessly endearing that he needs a measurable statistic in order to justify asking you if he can stay over every week, rather than biweekly. As though you need data to be convinced to spend more time with him.

The lovable idiot...

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literati42 · 7 years

Text

Batfam Week day 3: Wayne Gala

Title: Tunnel Vision

Rating: PG

Genre: family fluff, angst

Characters: Tim Drake POV, Jason Todd, Cass Cain, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne

Description: Batfam week prompt 3: Wayne Gala. Tim is feeling the anxiety that comes with being a protector of the city, and his siblings step in to help.

Note 1: I am still taking Batfamily week requests!! Send them my way, please.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 5:30 AM.

I groan, finding colorful things to call my alarm. I don’t say them, of course, that would take far too much effort. Glancing at the clock, I realize I got exactly 29 minutes of sleep between the late night patrol and the even later night laying awake recounting every moment of the previous day and calculating every potential moment everything could have gone wrong. It didn’t, this time, but it could. The unanalyzed life is not worth living, right? I roll out, hating my feet for touching the cold floor and the floor for being so cold. Nothing good happens before noon. Ever.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 6:01 AM.

Cold shower + (scorching coffee x 2) = me, almost awake enough to face the day. It is Saturday, the Gala is at noon, so I have to adjust my earlier statement. Nothing good may happen before noon, but nothing good will happen at noon today either. It is an early one, set outside in the awful bright sun. I pour cereal into the bowl and debate eating it with coffee instead of milk, but Alfred is just around the corner, and I can’t take the lecture in my current state. I eat the cereal dry instead.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 7:05 AM.

I fell asleep with my cereal half eaten and had to cover with by running off. Now I’m in the Batcave. Training, focusing the energy in my body will chase away the thoughts. I love the way fighting feels, the power and control in the way I use my body. My movements are fluid, and for a while, for a short while, everything fades to black. My mind empties of anything but the next best move. At some point, Damian is there in front of me. He jumps in. I pick up my bow staff, and he grabs a wooden practice sword. He does not ask, just begins to fight with me. The sharp pains of getting hit do not detract from the peace that comes with movement.

After a while, we have to stop because complete control over my body is a lie. If I had complete control, I would not need to stop to catch my breathe or drink water. My face is flush with the exercise. The kid is a pretty useful practice partner, in the rare moments, his mouth stays shut.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 9:00 AM.

I begin going over every detail of the last case. It feels easy. It feels incomplete. So, I go back over every detail. I turn over every rock, again, twice. I log every detail in the computer, frowning. This is wrong, and I know it. “Hey Tim,” Dick leans his arm on the back of my chair. “Isn’t that case wrapped? I thought you and Bruce tied a ribbon on that one yesterday.” My eyes are still scanning the words as he speaks and I give him something between a nod and a shrug.

“There’s something missing.”

Dick clicks his tongue behind me, “I know with how things end up going, secret society of owl lovers, random appearances by Hush, and the…the Joker, it’s easy to start looking for signs in the smallest cases. But babybird, sometimes a drug ring is just a drug ring.”

“And that perspective is how all the people you mentioned get the drop on us.” My words come out sharper than I mean, but he is leaning into my airspace, and I can’t focus like that. I hear Dick step back, and I don’t glance up. I really don’t want to see his expression. When he leaves, I do stop, rubbing my stinging eyes. I sit back and thanks to Dick’s interruption, the thoughts that spun around my head all last night return with painful clarity.

I should be doing more. There is always more to do. How can we go to a Gala and pretend like throwing money around will ever be enough to help this city? How can we sleep on Egyptian sheets and sit down to dinner at the long mahogany table that is more expensive than the apartments people in Hell’s Kitchen live in? How can I stop when I know what is going on out there? I remember hearing a story one time about rescuers pulling people out of a river. They just kept pulling people out of the river as fast and as often as they can, but there is a problem up the river, and people fall in faster than they can rescue. People drown because they can’t pull them out as fast as they are falling in.

Suddenly the weight is pressing, and I can’t breathe. I run out of the Batcave before anyone can see me.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 10:34 AM

I am sitting on the floor beside my bed, the black-out shades choking out only the barest slivers of light through the window when I hear a knock at the door. “Father insisted I have to tell you to get ready. However, if you would rather I am certain you won’t be missed.” I hear Damian’s retreating footsteps and press my hands into my eyes. I can’t do it today.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 10:47 AM

The lock jiggles, and I turn in time to see the door come open, with Damian standing there, lock pick in hand and arms crossed. I watch his eyes flit from the curtains to my hair and then to my clothes, the same ones from our sparring earlier. “I will tell Father you have decided to be more of a disappointment than usual.”

“Yeah, do that,” I reply. Why do I never learn to watch my mouth? He stops and turns, slowly. He tilts his head a bit like his dog does when he is confused.

“What’s wrong with you? Beyond the usual I mean.”

“Go away, Damian.”

He unsurprisingly does the exact opposite. He walks further into my room until he is standing in front of me, hands on his hips. “You didn’t insult me.”

“What?”

“You called me Damian, not hellspawn or demon child.” He narrowed his eyes, “And you just told me to go away, without any banter.” His eyes trace up and down me. “Did I injury you severally when I was trouncing you earlier? Because Alfred will never believe I did not intend to if…”

“I’m fine. I just want to rest today, now go away.”

I see Damian look from me to the door and back. Good, I can see him, already half way out the door in his mind. Yet, instead, he crouches down. “This is a Dick issue?”

“A…what?”

“A…psychiatric problem?”

“Psychiatric?”

I can see Damian getting frustrated, “Are you having emotions?”

I laugh then, and it is a hideous sound even to my ears, completely off and breathy. Damian cringes. I curse quietly as the sound threatens to bubble up again and morph into something worse. I swallow the heaviness in my throat. “Is it a poison or toxin of some kind?”

“I am just thinking,” I reply. When I see his skepticism, I glare, “I know what you’re going to say ‘is thinking that painful for you, Drake?”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Damian said. He stared at me for a split second more and then a determined look crossed his face. He straightened up and walked to the window. He threw open the curtain. I cringe as the light violates my eyes. “I know what this is,” he says with complete assurance, “Todd calls this…wallowing.”

“I am not wallowing…”

“You are, and there is only one thing to me done.” He walks over, and the little brat kicks me squarely in the leg. “Get up, and I stop.” I jump up, rubbing my leg, but he is running from the room before I can retaliate. He turns back at the door. “If you are not ready in the next 10 minutes, the consequences will be dire.”

That’s when I realize that my frustration at Damian lifted some of the weight off my chest.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 11:15 AM

“Come on, Tim, we can’t be late to our own Gala!” Dick’s voice rings up the stairs to me. I didn’t get ready in 10 minutes like the brat said, but I did listen to him and get up, so I am not sure this counts as a victory. I look in the mirror, adjusting my tie even though it’s already perfectly straight. I hate going out like this, mask-less. It feels both raw, like an exposed nerve, and fake, but Damian helped me at least kick the heaviness. I would thank him if he weren't already so self-righteous. I frown once more at the mirror. Without the mask, there is nothing hiding the black smudges the bags under my eyes make. I poke at one of them.

“Luckily for you, you have that Wayne family good looks to cover for those bags.” I turn to see Dick leaning on my door frame. He comes over the fix my tie, which was already perfect. I swear he puts it askew on purpose. “Dami said you were, and I quote, ‘wallowing in a pit of despair and pathetic-ness.'” I rolled my eyes. “If you ever need to talk…”

“I don’t.”

“But if you ever did,” Dick ignores my snapping for a second time that day. “I love you, baby brother.” I shrug his hand off my shoulder, but I can’t ignore that another measure of heaviness peeled back at his words.

At the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 3:11 PM

The Gala is set outside, and the weather could not be more perfect if Bruce ordered it up. The sun hits the flowers the Wayne deco crew used to turn this park into a purple and blue garden. The tables are laid with fine white clothes and crystal dishes. It all has an incredibly high dollar feel. The staff did a fine job, actually.

Of course, I finished admiring it ages ago, and we are still here. The speeches are over, the food is eaten, and now people are milling around being rich. Elbow rubbing. I lean my elbow on the table and try not to think about how much crime is going on, just outside the pretty shiny place we’ve carved out here. My eyes trace across the room, just in case of threats and I spot Cass. My sister is lovely, in a black dress that left her shoulders bare, and a black gem necklace that once belonged to Martha Wayne. I frown. She stands there with her hands pressed together looking at a group, most of them her age. That’s when I realize that all the young people are smiling and nodding politely to Cass, but giving her space.

The smile stays on her face, but even from here I can see it has left her eyes.

I push back my chair and walk over. Sometimes, when the moment strikes, and I get hit with anxiety and heaviness, I forget to see other problems. I forget to look at what is happening with my siblings. Tunnel vision, the thing that can kill you in the field. I’m good at avoiding it out there, at considering every possibility and evaluating all the players in the field. But here, on the chess board/minefield of a Wayne Gala? Sometimes I forget. I tap her elbow, and she turns to look at me. “I thought there would be dancing.”

I glance over at the orchestra, playing a mellow background tune.

“There is dancing, Cass. We just haven’t started it yet,” I smile, and she gives me a real smile in return. I pull her out and we begin dancing. She has been practicing, and I realize it must have been for this event. Cass never got a “normal” childhood, and a part of her has a deep insatiable lust for life. The orchestra has noticed us, they begin playing louder. I smile at her, my sister and she smiles back. And for a few moments, I let the problems of the rest of the city fade. And I solve one problem, here.

After, finally, after Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 7:14 PM

I pull off my tie and toss it on the bed as I walk into my room.

“So, wallowing Timber?”

I’m in fighting stance at once, whirling to see Jason skulking in the shadows like a lunatic. “What is your problem?”

“I asked, are you still wallowing?” he comes over and looks me up and down.

“Do you three have a newsletter I’m unaware of?”

“No, we have a collie that carries messages. ‘What is it, girl? Timmy’s in trouble? Timmy fell down a well of his own invention?’” I roll my eyes and flop onto the bed so I can pull off my shoes. Jason follows and takes the seat beside me.

“So, talk.”

“Jay, I’m fine. Don’t you have to get back? Who knows what felonies Roy and Kori are committing in your absence.”

“Obviously I would love to be a part of any felonies, but right now,” Jason is serious, I see the look in his eyes. “Babybird.” He sits shoulder to shoulder with me and gives me a nudge. “What got into your head.”

I am tired, and Jason is Jason. He’s the closest to me of any member of the family. There are times when he is the only one who gets it. And he always does get it. I remember the moment Joker had us both, and I believed Jason was turning on me. I remember the sour turn it gave my gut. Then when I figured out a way out, when Jason followed my lead, when he looked at me with complete confidence and said he knew he could pretend to turn on me, because he knew I would find us a way out. That unmitigated confidence in me, I don’t have words for what that means.

So I talk, slowly at first. I tell him how I can’t stop thinking about that story of the river, and the people drowning.

“Yeah, I know the one,” Jason said, “Alfred told it to me once.” He looks at me. “You know that’s not the end of the story right, Babybird?” I look up. “Yeah, the people start drowning because they keep falling in faster than the responders could pull them out, but then one responder stopped trying. You see, he realized that there was a problem up the river. So he left his post, and he walked up, and he realized the bridge across the river was broken. So he patched it. And viola! No more people falling in the river.” He flourished his hands as he spoke the last words, then lowered them and met my eyes once more. “You have to stop getting overwhelmed by the people in the river, Tim, and put that colossal brain of yours onto fixing the bridge.” I smile slightly. It is the tunnel vision again, I realize, just like before. Then Jason says the words that stick with me, well after he leaves. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

#batfamweek #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #batman #red robin #nightwing #red hood #robin #batfamily #batfamfics

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teentitansblackbird · 7 years

Text

Chapter 1

Harvey's Bar and Grill, Park Row, Gotham City. April 20th, 2028. 11:34 PM.

"To seven years, old friend," Gordon said, his glass of Scottish whiskey raised, "and my finally joining you."

Bruce stared silently back at his old partner, his face blank. Despite the sizable age difference between them, they both looked about equally as worn down; their white hair, the lines covering each of their faces, the seasoned look in their eyes. One might never guess that Jim had already been a grown man when Bruce was a boy. But living the life that Bruce Wayne had led comes with a price: being fifty-five years old and looking eighty-six.

Slowly, a grinned spread on the old billionaire's face, and a low chuckle rattled out of his chest as he clinked his own glass against Gordon's. "Congratulations, Jim. You finally made it."

The two men laughed for a moment, sitting beside each other at the bar. Across from them, leaning up against the countertop, was another old friend; Harvey Bullock. A seventy-eight year old man, Harvey had retired from the force about three years ago. After a year of being retired, Bullock decided to open this bar, Harvey's, as a means of raising money to help fight poverty in Park Row. It kept him busy, and it also helped improve the lives of some poor kids in Crime Alley. Win-win.

"So Bruce," Jim started after a sip from his glass, "you talk to Dick lately?"

"Had the three of them over to the house for lunch today, actually," Bruce replied. "Dick is nervous about taking the job, but he's ready."

"And how about the boy?" Gordon asked, an eyebrow raised. "Is he ready to start his job?"

Bruce smirked back at the former policeman. "He was born ready, Jim."

"I gotta say, I wadn't so sure about all a' dis with ya kid, Wayne," Bullock piped up as he wiped down the counter. "What, him bein' the new Bat 'n all. But the kid's got guts, no doubt. He's been doin' a good job keepin' everything in line, even keepin' Quinn outta trouble."

"That reminds me, you hear about that?" Jim turned to Bullock as he sipped a bit more from his Scotch. "Quinn has been taking her daughter out with her lately. Apparently the kid is calling herself 'Yo-Yo'... uses actual yo-yos to fight, or some nonsense like that."

"To be fair, some historians believe that the yo-yo was originally invented as a weapon," Bruce added. "It's not really that big of a leap."

"But bringing your own child out on your... your... crusades?" Gordon frowned. "How is that even--"

"How is that any different from what I did with Robin?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Gordon paused for a moment. "Bruce, you know I didn't mean..."

"Relax, Jim. I know," Bruce put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "I think it'll be good for Lucy. Teach the girl to stand up for what she believes in."

"Hey, speakin' a'da Quinzels... anybody heard about the kid's dad?" Harvey asked as he slung a rag over his shoulder. "I heard he's out on the town again..."

"Joker's loose? Again??" Gordon growled, grimacing under his moustache. "I'm so sick of that freak. After everything he's done..."

"Believe me, Jim. I can relate..." Bruce's gaze was cold as he looked down at his drink. "But I believe in Damian. If anyone can bring the clown back in, it's him."

"Dame's a good Batman, Brucey," the former detective grinned back at the first Batman. "Ya brought the kid up right."

"I really should invite him and Rachel over for dinner sometime," Bruce smiled as he looked out the window. "It's great seeing them in the Cave every night, but I'd like to see how they're doing with everything outside the uniforms."

Almost on cue, the air outside the bar ripped to life as a black vehicle zoomed past, shaking the windows as it flew by.

Bruce chuckled. "Still a devil behind the wheel, aren't you?"

Grayson Ranch, Blüdhaven. April 21st, 2028. 12:02 AM.

Damian grinned and hopped out of the Batmobile as Dick descended into the bunker, his coat thrown over his shoulder. The older man took off his glasses as he approached his brother, smiling as he realized how much taller he was. Grayson had thirteen years on Damian, and still those Wayne genes gave the younger man a good four inches on him.

"You're getting grey, Richard," Damian joked as he put his arms around his older brother. "Finally starting to match your name, aren't you?"

"You're still a punk, Wayne," Dick chuckled. "Fifteen years, and you're still a punk."

"You ready for this, Grayson?" Damian asked as he let go of the older man, pulling his cowl on. "Or rather... Commissioner?"

Dick rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess. Ready as you can be for police work in Gotham, at least."

Damian put a hand on Dick's shoulder. "You don't need to worry about a thing, Grayson. No matter what happens, you have the two of us watching the streets alongside you."

"That's not really much of a comfort, Damian..." Dick sighed. "... he's still just a boy. Are you sure he's ready?"

"He's the same age I was when I started, and a year older than you were," Damian assured the older Robin. "Besides, we trained him up ourselves. He's passed every test, he's ready. Everything will be fine."

Dick looked back at his youngest brother for a moment before nodding. "I'm trusting you to take good care of him. You hear me?"

"I'll protect him with my life, Dick. You know that." The Batman brought his hand back from Dick's shoulder, crossing his arms. "So... where is he?"

Dick just shook his head, nodding back towards the armored vehicle Damian had arrived in. When the younger man turned to look, he let a grin spread over his face; already sitting there in the Batmobile's passenger seat, in full uniform, was his nephew Tommy. The Dark Knight raised an eyebrow as he noted that Tommy looked strikingly similar to his father; head-to-toe, the boy was the spitting image of Dick Grayson.

"Let's ride, Uncle D!" The new Robin called out excitedly. "Crime isn't gonna fight itself!"

Damian smiled as he turned to hop back into the car. "Don't you worry, Commissioner. He'll be just fine."

Wayne Penthouse, Gotham City. April 21st, 2028. 12:18 AM.

Two minutes. Starting... Now.

Raven sat at the edge of the bed, gently stroking Titus' head which lay in her lap. The dog had gotten so big, and Damian had raised him up strong. Said he wanted him to be his "Bat-Hound". Of course, that was where Raven had to put her foot down; there was absolutely no way he was taking Titus with him on patrol. Naturally, Damian took this to mean that Titus would be more practical as her bodyguard, so he was still trained to be fiercely protective of her. Honestly, Raven had wished he could have just been a regular old normal dog. But this was Damian Wayne she was dealing with, and this hadn't even been the first Titus Damian had. The first Titus had been a veritable Bat-Hound (although the only official "Bat-Hound" had been Ace, Bruce's German Shepherd, who died not long after Damian was born), so it made sense for the second Titus to follow in his predecessor's footsteps. Still, Raven just wanted their little family to have a little bit of normalcy.

Family... wow. Amazing how it came back to that so fast.

It happened about three weeks ago. March 30th... She and Damian called it their "second anniversary". Enough things happened on the date to warrant some special recognition, so they decided to take a day; Raven called in from work, and she and Damian just spent the day out on the town. They even had Jason and Cassie cover patrol for them so they could have the night to themselves. But about 2 in the morning on the 31st, Raven felt... something. She didn't know what it was, but she felt-- sensed? Would that be the word? Raven knew she could sense the presence of life around her, but this felt different somehow. This was something inside of her. And once she felt it, she couldn't un-feel it; she decided not to tell Damian so she wouldn't worry him, but she had her suspicions. Of course she had to wait awhile before she knew for sure, but she still kept her mind on the... whatever it was she was feeling. Every day she kept it in mind, and she let herself speculate, wonder at what it was. But today she would have her answer. Today she'd know.

Two minutes. Raven squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. In... and out.

She picked up the test on the bed beside her and looked down at it.

Positive.

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