#Jason ends up finding an empty warehouse but no Tim

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 3 - "Okay, show me."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

"So… first time getting kidnapped?"

Tim blinked at the teen that was tied to a wall right across from him. He marveled for a a moment at how similar the two looked and even thought that he could see how the other teen could have gotten mistakenly kidnapped in his place. Though if they had already kidnapped him then why did they end up kidnapping him again?

"No, getting kidnapped kinda comes with the name and status." Tim finally answered and the other kid nodded sagely as if he understood. "Usually they are a little more incompetent."

He moved his wrists a little causing the strange silver bracelets they had slapped on his wired before chaining him to the wall so that they would cause a rattling noise, making the other teen look at them with a raised eyebrow.

"So first time getting kidnapped by the GIW then."

"GIW?"

"Guys in White, or well Ghost Investigation Ward, a government organization." The other teen explained with a shrug. "Usually they are incompetent. Aside from a couple of burns from getting shot, this is the first time they actually managed to chain me in a while. Normally they would have messed up by now but it's interesting that they even manage to nap you too."

Now Tim raised an eyebrow. That was news to him. To think there was a governmental organization that was actively abducting civilians for who knows what. Damn, he could see how B would not be happy once he told them about that.

"Sorry btw." Tim blinked up at the other teen in confusion, who chuckled in return. "They probably kidnapped you thinking you were my double or something. We look similar enough for them to think that."

"Wait…" Tim's eyes widened in realization. "They kidnapped me because I look like you? Not the other way around?"

"Uh yeah, why would I be kidnapped because of you?"

"Tim Drake-Wayne. Does that ring a bell?" Tim huffed only to watch how the other teen furrowed his eyebrows as if deep in thoughts before shrugging.

"In fact no it doesn't. But I don't keep up with high society, it helps pissing of the fruitloop whenever he drags me to 'meet important people' and I actively call them false names no matter how often he introduces them."

Tim's eye twitched. While that is fun, this was also the first time he met someone who hadn't heard of his name before in some way or form. In the end just let out a sigh.

"So what now? We wait to get rescued or will they release us after some time?" Well he had already tipped off his family, so it was probably only a matter of time until one of his siblings burst in to play knight in shining armor. He just hoped it wasn't Jason again, or he wouldn't shut up about having saved him for another month.

"Oh we can wait, but they won't release us. It's probably better if we get out on our own."

"Really? And how do you plan for us to get out of the handcuffs?" Well Tim did have a lock pin hidden in his jacket and some small sized tools stuffed into the sole of his shoes but with his hands chained above his head it was a little difficult to get them. But his feet were not chained so with just a bit of body twisting he could-

"Oh the handcuffs are no problem. They can be easily removed by overloading them."

"Overloading?" Tim arched an eyebrow, now the cuffs did not look like your normal brand he can admit that but how was the other going to do that unless he had some secret electric tool stored on him.

"Yea, overloading. It's pretty simple. These look like the same Brant they tried to cuff me with a year ago. It's funny how they look like they haven't learned a single thing in all these years."

"Really now?" Tim stared at the other teen unimpressed. "Okay, show me. How are you going to overload them with no tools around?"

"Easy." The other teen smirked at him and Tim's eyes widen as he saw the others hands emitting a green light before the cuffs on his wrist sparked and then fell off. Okay, noted the other teen was a Meta.

"My name is Danny by the way." Danny grinned as he rubbed his wrists before getting up and walking over to Tim to do the same to his cuffs. Tim rubbed his his own wirsts, carefully examining them for any time of injury only to look up just in time to watch Danny reach into his own chest. With wide eyes he watched Danny sticking out his tongue while one of his hands was going through his body as if he was looking for something.

"Aha! I knew I stuck them in my body somewhere for a situation like this!" Okay there was so much to unpack from this sentence alone but before Tim could even ask a single question Danny pulled out a lockpick set from his chest and proceeded to pick at their cell door.

"I have so many questions." Tim muttered, still watching the other teen.

"Well I can probably answer some of them once we are out of here. It's the least I can do after you get kidnapped because of me." Danny grinned as the lock he was working on clicked and he swung the door open. "Wanna talk over some coffee? You look like you need some."

"This is definitely not what I expected when I said 'show me'." Tim muttered once more walking passed Danny out of their cell, eager to leave this place.

"Yea well that the more civilian friendly things I can do." Danny followed with a grin. "Though I do have some other tricks I could have used too."

"You talk like a hero." Tim thought aloud, eyeing the teen and how they were holding themselves. Nothing about this teen screamed innocent civilian anymore, well aside from the obvious Meta abilities. He also marbled about the fact that they basically just walked out of the warehouse they had been holding. Huh looked like these GIW guys were really as incompetent as Danny had mentioned earlier.

"Yea, well I am a retired Hero." Great now Tim got more to look into in regards to Danny. Oh that reminded him, he probably should tell his family that he was no longer kidnapped… but that could probably wait until after he got his coffee with Danny. What was the worst that could happen? Red Hood storming an empty building. Oh well, it would be a good exercise for his brother then.

#fictober23 #danny phantom #danny fenton #dpxdc #dp x dc #crossover #tim drake #dcxdp #GIW are more of a comic relieve in this au #Tim and Danny look a lot like each other #they could get mistaken as twins #GIW are very incompleteness #Danny has no commen sense when it comes to displaying his powers #Jason ends up finding an empty warehouse but no Tim #he beats up a couple of the GIW guys that stuck around to long after the two left #Tim later gets an earful from Bruce for not notifying them about his escape #he has no regrets #the coffee he and Danny had was worth it #he also got to talk to a retired hero as 'civilian' with to many questions #unedited #no beta wie die like danny

[crystaljade22]

Batfamily with a Semi-forgotten sibling user

User is younger than Jason and Dick, but older than Tim and Damian.

Warnings: User death at the end, semi-graphic, not too bad, angst, bby Damian (Platonic). No fluff.

No gendered pronouns, only 'you'.

User is always swooping in to save everyone. Damian and Bruce seem to be the only ones who truly take notice.

Bruce swears he has a mini heart attack every time you crash through a window to save him when he's surrounded and clearly outnumbered. He gives you an angry (concerned) lecture when you get back to the cave about risking yourself. You continue to do so, and yet he still manages to scold you in new ways every time. He just can't bear the thought of losing another child.

Damian at first ignores you every time you come in to help. But slowly over time as you take care of him, and make sure he's taking care of his things, he slowly lets himself get attached to you as a sibling. He doesn't mind your help from time to time and definitely doesn't complain when there's a new reason to just hang out with his older sibling.

When Damian first came to Gotham, during his first winter he got slightly sick, which is really rare, and he was stuck in bed on Alfred's orders. So while Alfred was stuck tending to the others, you came in to make sure that he had eaten and was well-rested enough before you and him had fun playing games.

Now, the other boys however, don't notice you as much.

Tim gets too absorbed in work to notice when you bring him another cup of coffee or organize his files in a way that makes sense. On the field, he doesn't even recognize you as an asset. You often play support, standing on a nearby roof while you wait anxiously to hear if your father and brothers are alright. Most of the time, Tim doesn't even think you could change the outcome in his plan. Even when you come in to help, he blames it all on his "perfect" planning skills, and ignores your presence altogether.

Jason doesn't like you at all. He finds you to be a useless younger sibling. He makes sure that any time you try to interact with him, he shuts you down in the coldest, harshest way he can to make sure you stay away. There have been times when he's gotten aggressive with you on patrols together. Pushing you close to roof edges, threatening you. Of course, Bruce never lets this happen.

Dick, however, just ignores you or finds excuses to get away from you. He doesn't even really think of you as a sibling, more like an annoying stray that was brought in. He constantly uses his acrobatic skills to avoid you. If you're ever on patrols together, he finds ways to leave you alone, often going off on his own. Bruce constantly gets mad at Dick for this, trying to explain to him that you are his younger sibling, and you should not be left alone in Gotham, especially when the Joker is at large.

Now, onto the scenario.

You've been looking for Jason. All the civilians are out of the building, and so is your family, but Jason is missing.

Where is he?

You look back at the building, plumes of smoke still billowing up toward the sky. He's still in there. Your legs are moving before anyone can stop you. You hear Bruce call your hero name, but you're already rushing into the building.

"Red Hood!" You shout, scanning the building with your eyes as you run through the empty factory. You stop in front of a fallen beam, blackened from the flames that were now doused. You look over it, seeing Jason with a small child in his arms. In a rush of adrenaline, you crouch under the beam, lifting the probably 250 pound wooden beam above your head.

"Come on!" You shout to Jason, urging him to run. As he passes you, his shoulder bumps your arm. You lose your grip on the beam, falling backward. Time seemed to slow down as you landed on the ground, watching the beam succumb to gravity. As the beam crushed your legs, other parts of the building collapsed, covering up your blood-curdling scream. Fire licked at the roof of the warehouse, covering multiple other surfaces. Your eyes burned with tears, your lungs filling with smoke. As you stared up at the roof, you realized that Bruce was right. You weren't going to get out of this alive. As you saw the night sky, you saw some stars twinkling between the flames. A smile graced your face as you realized that you too, would soon join the stars, and you would always watch over your family.

Outside

Jason came barreling out of the building, the child clutched to his chest. The girl's parents came rushing over to take her from his arms. As Jason approached the others, Damian seemed to keep looking behind Jason, waiting for something to happen, or for someone to return.

"Jason, are you alright?" Bruce asks frantically, quickly approaching and scanning him over. Jason waves him off scoffing in an annoyed manner. But truly, he was a little happy that he was still cared for. Damian stood by Jason, looking out onto the burning building. His expression is serious, but his eyes hold a hidden worry. He shakes his head, turning to Jason.

"Where is Y/N?" Jason's eyes widen as he looks back at the building, his mind replaying his last moments with them. He bumped into them as they were holding up a huge beam. As he realizes his mistake, the building crumbles, ash and sparks flying into the night sky. Damian's face goes white, fear and panic coating his face as he stares at the flaming building. Tears streak down his face silently, as his body realizes, you're gone. Bruce's face darkens, his eyes going dark as he realizes he's failed to protect another child. He rests his hand on Damian's shoulder, silently telling him he can't go in to save them. Dick and Tim stared at the building, their faces numb. Dick turned out of guilt, his whole body sinking in defeat as he realizes what he's done to you. Tim can't seem to comprehend your gone.

"They'll come back later. They always do." Tim says, his voice unknowingly shaky as he watches the flames consume the building. Damian sinks to his knees, his shoulders shaking as he silently sobs. Bruce helps him stand back up, and orders everyone to return to the cave.

"No, we can bring them back. We can use a Lazarus pit and bring them back!" Damian tries to reason, trying to look back at the building.

"No Damian. They're gone. Their body is too damaged to bring back, and I'll be damned if I have to force another child back here."

Jason can only stare at the building as he realizes.

"If I hadn't bumped into them, they would be standing right beside me, like they usually do." Guilt fills his body as he realizes, he's the reason they're now gone.

#batfamily #batfam x batsis #batfamily x batsis #damian wayne #dick grayson #dcu #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #angst #no fluff #suffer #sorry not sorry #sorry for being depressing

[hyperfixationherewecome]

Little bit of Thing anyone can adopt

Joker didn't know it yet, but as soon as the contents of the syringe was emptied into Tim's bloodstream, his lifeline was reaching its very end. As the clown cackled in the face of horrified Bats, Tim felt himself detaching from his body, similar to disassociation but not quite. He felt the self imposed limit in his soul snap like silly string.

He sat up and stared at the Joker for a few seconds, tilting his head to the side and doing nothing, wiping the smile off the clown's face as he failed to immediately attack anyone in the warehouse where he'd lured them into by pretending he had Jason. The other Bats were tied up and chained tightly, far away from each other so they couldn't escape with teamwork.

The contents of the syringe was a serum specifically designed to destroy impulse control, and the Joker had assumed that meant Tim would be mindlessly violent.

It's almost funny, how much he doesn't know what he fucked around with until he finds out. Tim's lips pull up into an infuriatingly lopsided smirk. It's time to cut his string.

Tim stood up, body loose and ready to move, and the clown smiled a horribly grotesque grin.

"Finally! So now that I got rid of those pesky inhibitions of yours, why don't you show me whatcha capable of birdie! Surely you've gotta have some pent up rage in there! Show me the violence, show me the blood!" Joker cackled as the other Bats shouted furiously at him.

Tim tilted his head again and nodded once. If it's blood Joker wants it, then it's blood Joker will get.

Tim lifted his right arm up and cupped his fingers, holding the air like he was holding a handful of water, then turned his hand upside down, spreading his fingers and crooking them like he was holding the cross brace of a marionette, and with his left hand, Tim reached forward, made a fist, and pulled.

Joker stiffened, and like a marionette with severed strings, he fell to the ground.

His blood did not.

It coiled in the air like a snake in water, twisting and writhing like a living creature. It slithered through the empty space until it reached Tim, curling around his neck like a particularly gruesome scarf or perhaps a macabre feather boa.

Silence blanketed the bats.

#tim drake #prompt #batfam au

[aerascreamer]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne

Additional Tags: Batfamily Shenanigans (DCU), Fluff and Crack, Bruce Wayne is So Done, Family Fluff, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members - Freeform, Everyone being an idiot, Fluff and Humor, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Miscommunication

Summary:

(Inspired by @incogneat-oh ‘s post on Tumblr. Link here)

Tim decides he needs sleep, for once. As he winds down in his new safe house near Crime Alley, his dream of sleep comes to halt, all thanks to a noisy neighbour.

——

Tim stretched his cold limbs with a grunt. One last look through his binoculars confirmed that the warehouse in front of him was still empty. He curses under his breath at another dead end.

The young detective has been investigating the Penguin’s operations for a while, wanting to find clues about his alliance with Two-Face. But the man keeps slipping between his fingers like a penguin sliding on ice.

Tim decided to call it a night and head back home to get some sleep. Everyone in the family has been pestering him to get some rest, to the point Alfred started to send ominous and scary voicemails. And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he’d fall asleep standing if he just closed his eyes for more than two seconds.

However, the Manor or his dorm room was too far away. Way too far. His best option was his new safe house next to Crime Alley. Not fully equipped yet but there was a bed at least. Tim made his mind and headed towards the sector.

-

After a warm bath, he sunk into the soft and welcoming grasp of the bed sheets. He buried his face into the pillow, Morpheus calling him… until the sound of water rushing through the canalisations woke him up.

A voice started to sing, loud and deep.

Tim looked at the time on his phone.

3:30.

Someone was taking a shower.

At three thirty.

Someone was singing their heart out.

AT THREE THIRTY IN THE MORNING.

Tim got on his knees and banged against the wall he shared with the neighbour who dared disturbing him.

“SHUT UP YOU ARSE !”

The voice didn’t stop.

In fact, it grew louder.

“I SWEAR I WILL CALL THE COPS !”

The voice kept singing.

As Tim headed for his doorstep, he heard banging and shouting from the corridor, very clear despite the wall.

“SHUT UP YOU PEASANT !”

Tim froze.

He hoped the voice didn’t belong to who he thought. He hoped it wasn’t him. He hoped he didn’t have to deal with him right now, outside patrol. He flung the door open.

Looking to the left, he saw Damian hitting the neighbour’s door while snarling. Dick stood behind him, arm crossed. His expression was pissed but mostly tired. The two turned towards Tim, Damian’s fist hanging in the air.

“What are you doing here ?” The young brat asked.

“Trying to get some sleep.” Tim said

Dick tilted his head and stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What ?”

“You ? Actually wanting to get sleep ?”

“It’s true.”

Damian tutted.

“You said, and I quote: “Sleep is for the weak and I need answers.” ”

Tim pinched his nose, already exhausted by the demon spawn.

“Whatever, why are you two here ? I thought you went back to Blüd, Dick.”

“I did, but there was a lead I found for a case that send me back here,” The eldest replied. “I owed Damian a butt kicking on Mario Kart so I invited him.”

This time, Tim was the one raising an eyebrow.

“Why there and not the Manor ?”

“I needed -“

The neighbour’s door jerked open. Damian dodged at the last second and found himself face to face with a snarling Jason, his hair still wet.

“WHAT ?!”, he shouted. Then his eyes narrowed in confusion. “Why are you all here?”

Damian crossed his arms in a mimic of Dick’s pose.

“We were trying to sleep before your poor singing skills disturbed us.”

Jason blinked.

“Wait, you have apartments in this building and floor ?”

“Yeah.” Both Tim and Dick answered. The tall man looked around before letting everyone in his place. Tim took a glanced at the inside, noting with suspicion the knives displayed pretty much everywhere.

“So can anyone tell me why you have set upon around my safe house ?”

“I thought I’d have a safe house here to resupply mid-patrol without having to go all the way back to the Cave,” Tim started. “Though I didn’t know you were here. Nor them”

“Same reasons,” Dick added. “I didn’t know about your presence either.”

Jason looked between his siblings and let out a chocked laugh.

“You geniuses set up next to each other without knowing it ?! So much for the great vigilantes of Gotham !”

“You didn’t either, Todd !”

The group broke into an argument, punctured by laughs as well as insults, before Dick clapped his hands.

“I suppose it’s a prefect opportunity for a sleepover then ?”

“If it means we can play Mario Kart, then yes,” Damian said. “I want a rematch.”

-

Bruce climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. Adjusting his grip on the various of supplies for vigilante purpose, he cursed the broken elevator. He wondered how long it hasn’t been fixed, if there were elderly or disabled people living in this place (Barbara often complained about the city’s negligence and unfriendly structure for wheelchair users), as well as how to get it fixed as fast and discreetly possible.

He struggled with the keys but managed to get inside his new safe house. The small apartment barely had any furnitures, and filled boxes littered the ground. Bruce sighed and started to unpack before putting everything in the drawers.

Muffled conversations leaked through the wall. Bruce couldn’t understand the conversation subject and was surprised people were up that late. Using it as background noise, he continued to clean the room.

Soon however, the voices grew louder. Bruce stopped and listened the conversation turning into a screaming match before crashes and thuds echoed in his safe house.

He got up with a tried sigh. How many times has he broken up fights between his kids and the JLA, and still he had to deescalate the situation even without any of his family or teammates around.

He got out and knocked on the next door. The fight inside his neighbour’s place stopped, then the door flung open.

“WHAT ?” Jason shouted, before his eyes widened in surprise.

Bruce stared at his second son, shock freezing his brain. It clicked back into action when he noticed the dark bruise swelling under his boy’s left eye.

“Why are you here ? What happened ? Are you in danger ?”

“I’m fine,” Jason replied, rolling his eyes. “Damian lost round in Mario Kart and threw a remote at me.”

“Damian ?”

“Father ?”

Bruce saw his youngest son’s head poking from the living room, soon followed by Dick and Tim.

“Waiiiiiiiiiiiitttttt…” Tim said, with a signature scowl of concentration. “Your new safe house…”

“Yes ?”

“You’re setting it up here ?”

“Yes, it’s the apartment over there.” Bruce replied, pointing a thumb to his front door.

Everyone stared at each other, before burning into laughs. Bruce watched with growing confusion as his kids rolled on the floor or collapsed onto the furnitures while holding their side. Even Damian was shaking with chuckles. A voice in his head whispered that he should go fetch a kit to check if the boys were exposed to Joker Venom.

“You’re all morons !” Jason managed to say through the hiccups. “I can’t believe even you would set up a place without knowing there’s a gargle of vigilante living around.”

Bruce narrowed his eye, the gears in his mind finally clicking. He let out a hum of embarrassment before stepping inside the safe house.

“You were playing video games right ?” he asked, trying to shift the disccusion.

“Yeah old man, but I have to warn you - HOLY S&%ç !”

Bruce snapped his head back, and almost jump to the ceiling at the sight of Cassandra. She gave him a large mischievous smile and held out packs of snacks.

“Wait you have a safe house here too ?!” Tim screeched.

“Yes.”

The whole place exploded into chaos.

Bruce stayed the night to play Mario Kart. Despite loosing more time than not, a feeling of fondness and calm bloomed in his chest. At some point, Cass and Dick called Duke, Steph and Barbara, who all came despite the late hour.

They managed to get Barbara up the stairs, flipping off the elevator on their way. As the night went on, everyone fell asleep one by one, the cozy warm of the moment making their eyelids heavy. Bruce stayed up last. It was such a rare occasion to have the kids all together and out of costume lately, so Bruce wanted to make sure to enjoy every second of it.

#they are idiots your honor #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #batsiblings #dc #dc comics #fluff #crack fic

[secretsandwriting]

Murder Made Us Do It

Part Thirteen: Critical Condition

When a killer targeting couples manages to avoid both the Justice League and the Devil Fugitives, the two “enemies” decide to work together to bring him down. How do you catch a killer targeting couples? You bait him with couples. It couldn’t go wrong, right?

----

If you’re reading this, something probably happened to us, so congrats, we actually trust you.” Anyways onto the important things. 

The three of us have written everything we remember about any locations we were taken to besides the main facility that we destroyed. It's not much but it's all we know. Now onto the information i guess.

the ground shook at 7 am, 12 pm, and 8 pm everyday at the huge training arena

I caught a snipit of the news one night and it mentioned the murder of Kallen Williams

One of the guards really liked the city's team, it had a cat in it.

The roads weren’t paved.

The woods had an endangered species

Moles could be heard through some of the halls.

There were lots of electronics nearby

One of the hallways collapsed and there was so much dirt. 

There were no windows

There was a green room with lots of plants

It took a little to follow the clues, some of it obviously covered up but eventually they did find it.

“So the murder of Kallen Williams was covered up pretty well. It took a while to find anything but it happened in West Port Washington 10 years ago. She was strangled and if the autopsy is correct, I’d say she was probably a victim of the cult. We also found out that a train runs through the city everyday at 7 am, 12 pm, and 8 pm. Their high school football team is called the West Port Tigers, and there's an abandoned warehouse 10 miles outside of the city. The tracks are about 200 feet from it.”

“Alright. Let's go.”

The warehouse was easy to find and with the supers finding the underground entrance wasn’t too hard. Everyone who stood in their way was taken down easily. Even when threatened, no one spilled anything so they couldn’t get any more information then they already had but that didn’t stop them. 

They kept going, sweeping every room as they went looking for any sign of the three. Finally they spotted Jacob at the end of the hall walking towards them. 

“Is this really neces-” He cut himself of with a scream as he dropped. The new bullet wound in his leg courtesy of Jason’s gun.

“Where are they?” Dick demanded. Jacob ignored him in favor of his leg. 

“Answer the question or one bullet wound will become two.” Tim stepped to the side to give Jason a better shot, the rest of the group waiting with the exception of Clark who was watching Bruce to make sure he wouldn’t pull the no murder bullshit. 

“No.” Another gunshot, this time in his arm. “Shooting me isn’t going to work! After all, a little pain is nothing if it means Zibheriud will be able to come to us! He’ll reward us f-” Another gunshot, he wouldn’t be getting up from it.

“Here!” That was the only warning they got before Connor ripped off one of the metal panels that made up the walls. Behind it, was another hallway. It was empty, they could see people cowering in the rooms through the glass on each door. They just locked them in, once the Black Ops were secured they would be dealt with.

They got to the end of the hall, one door left, no windows. Clark broke it down and there, laid out on cots, were Alistair, Y/n and Ry. All in critical condition. They were quickly picked up by the bats and rushed to one of the planes. The rest stayed back to take care of those left, the rest of Devil’s Fugitive would be coming to help. After all, they had history with the cult. 

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Taglist:

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Forever tag list:

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#Mmudi #murder made us do it #DC #DC smau #smau #social media au #dick Grayson #dick Grayson x reader #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Barbara Gordon #Stephanie brown #Cassandra Cain #Alfred #Bruce Wayne #OCS I guess? #fem reader #ry writes

[zatannaroth]

𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄

Burn every single witch alive!!

Read every single articles, the innocent's wanted Justice for the death of Batman. He was killed by someone who had magic. They didn't know who it was but wanted them ALL gone. The batfamily felt hopeless trying to save innocent's who were accused of 'witchcraft' .

Gordon lost many cops that night and he too felt 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬.

Gotham was now worst than ever and not because the villains but the people who lived there. Many killed the joker, riddler and the falcons. Bruce wouldn't let his city fall apart. Not after he had made.

𝐇𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭.

"This shit is starting to feel like the Salem witch trials, accusing everyone is a witch and kill without any reason." Jason sat down next to Tim who he was currently looking at the monitors. "I'm afraid so..but we still have to find Bruce's killer." He haven't gave up for answers.

Jason sighs, he and Bruce didn't have such a good relationship with the old man but he did cared for him. "Has Dick found anything yet?" Tim shake his head and turn to face Jason. "No..but Barbara knows that a lot of people are sure accusing Ivy for it." Ivy has been isolation in a secret base that batfamily had made in case of an emergency.

"I'm surprised that they didn't accused her first, in the beginning... Hell I would." Tim gave him a look. Jason shrugs "what? you wouldn't too?." "Bruce was found with black magic, not with vines." Tim decided not to pick an argument. "I'm going on patrol..keep an eye out." He gets up from the chair and puts on his mask before heading out. "Careful out there!" Jason called out.

Tim was on top of an old warehouse that the penguin used to run. Now it's all empty. And he too was gone. So far Tim had saved several civilians from being burning alive. Now everything was peaceful beside the dogs howling and cats going though dumpster, it felt like a ghost town where he was at. Tim needed to relax, to breathe again. Now since Dick was in charge of anything, to be the new leader and Bruce's Enterprise.

Tim was so distracted in his own head that he hasn't noticed the black sparks coming out the old warehouse next store. Until there was a loud noise of glass shattering. He looked up and saw a girl with a grey jacket.

Her hands were shaking with black light.

"HEY!"

He called out. But when the girl saw him. And began to run. Tim got his grapple hook and head over to the next building. "STOP!" He shouted. But the girl didn't even cared and jump to an other roof.

𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑚𝑒.

He pulls out his battranger and throws it at her. The girl trips and before she could get up. Tim's grabs her. "I'M SORRY, I DIDNT MEAN TO." She cries out.

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛?

Tim had the girl around his arms as she tried to kick back and scream but ending up landing on his lap. Tim didn't fought back but instead held her tight, letting her lose her energy. The girl did eventually started to feel drain and started slowly to pass out, letting her head on his shoulder.

He moved some hair away from her face and saw her tears coming out. He felt bad for her but had never seen somebody this afraid seeing him. Tim decided to not let the others knows just yet. He pick her up in a bridel style and headed to one of his safe house. Raven woke up and her head was pounding a little. She groaned and held her head, laying back to the pillows. But then got up immediately realizing this wasn't her place.

"Oh good, you're up." She wasn't alone.

She didn't remember what exactly happened but looking over to a guy who has black hair with blue eyes with a suit. She was with THE Red Robin. She could feel the room shaking. But didn't mean to. She couldn't control her powers.

"Hey.." Tim grab her hand and felt her world stopped shaking.

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑖𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡?

Tim sat down in front of her. "I'm not going to hurt you.." he whispered. Tim had 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 show his secret identity to anyone. But he wanted her to trust him.

"I...I mean do to it" she told him. Tim didn't understand what had she meant.

"didn't mean to?... "

"To kill him...it's all my fault."

Tim didn't wanted to react or at least in front of her. He just nods and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. If everybody found out that SHE was the one that kill the dark knight. They wouldn't show her any mercy and burn her alive.

.....𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑇𝑖𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘....

"what's your name?" he could look her up on his computer and hopefully find anything on her. The girl hesitate at first, "My name is.. Rachel, Rachel Roth." She looked into his eyes, they were so calming for some reason. Why did she felt trust in him?

Tim notice her eyes were purple, rare then normal. And her skin looked like she was glowing...she was gorgeous to be a witch. "Urgh..I have some tea ready if you would like some, to calm you down." He rubs his neck and forgetting that on hand is on her.

"Yeah..tea sounds nice."

Raven watches how Tim let's go of her hand while he got up and grab two mugs with tea and walked back over to handle it to her. She mumble a thanks and took a sip of the tea. her mind felt much more relaxed.

Tim wanted Rachel to take her time, he knew that she's been through a lot. And wouldn't wanted to scare her. Athough Rachel did looked around his age. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

She assured him with a small smile but her eyes didn't match it. Raven then decided to talk what happened that night with the Bat.

"I was just kidnapped by some person..they took me to a abandoned church. They knew that I wasn't normal, started to enchanter these words that weren't some language that I knew..." She took a breath before to continue

"I felt someone possess over my body, there were a lot of screaming, blood, and dead bodies all around me... including 𝒉𝒊𝒔. He try to save me and I kill him! all I did was run, run as fast I can...It's all my fault that everyone is seeking revenge for his death. Killing each other, thinking it was them."

Tim didn't wanted blame her. But she was responsible for Bruce death. And for not coming forward in the beginning. Tim had to really think about what next.

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠?

"Rachel I'm going to need you to stay here in order to protect you. But you have to tell me... are there more like you?" Rachel shakes her head "No, I've mostly been alone...but I'm trying to control my powers."

𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒..

Rachel let out a small yawn and tried to cover it up. But Tim thought it was adorable, "You're tired..just sleep here." He assured her. But Rachel refused. "No..it's you bed I can sleep on the floor." She was about to get up from the bed.

"Rachel you don't deserve to sleep on the floor. Not after what you had been though."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I got work to do".

He gets her mug and puts it's back to the kitchen sink. Rachel lays down on the bed but doesn't closes her eyes yet. She looked up at the ceiling. "Sleep Rae." Rachel got up and look over at him who was currently sitting in a desk chair.

"I'm sorry but to asked, what do I to call you? Like red? Robin Or something."

she was actually curious in what to call him.

"Well the name Red is taken. But my name is Tim Drake."

𝑇𝑖𝑚..

"Well Thank you Tim..for saving me. I promise I would do anything to help to the stop this mess I've created."

Rachel fell asleep soon after and Tim continue to research her past, and was shock to find

Angela Arella Roth

Ran away from home to join church of blood

Only a minor when she gave birth to a girl.

Claims the father of child is a...

Tim looked over at peaceful raven, she was no witch...

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧.

#timrae #tim drake x raven

[kyberphilosopher]

Hiss

[Part ii. of Bite] Jason’s been resurrected, only to find he’s been replaced as Robin. Luckily, an old enemy of the Batman has the attributes to help. Word Count: 6465

Warning[s]: guns, crime, language, crude humor, Mitski, non vegetarian reader, age gap, glorified taskmaster ally. Following part i the readers official gender is not disclosed. 

“Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

☈ - ✮ ✭ ✮

Six months. That’s how long it took for Jason to die. Six. Whole. Months. In an abandoned warehouse, in some foreign country that he couldn’t even remember. He’d been fifteen, small for his age but fifteen nonetheless, when that clown had beat him. And what had Batman done? Nothing. He’d let him sit in that warehouse, in that foreign country, with that clown at age fifteen- for six months. And he had done nothing.

Not that it really matters now. It had, at one point, to Jason. He’s in denial that it still does. But to Batman? Oh, it never mattered at all. How long had it taken Bruce to replace his son? A week? A month? No, it had been six months. Barely. And the clown? He was safe and sound, very much alive and loose as he usually was. Batman had put him in Arkham, after a while, but of course it hadn’t lasted for very long. Jason’s death? That was permanent. At least until there was a new and improved and very much replaced Jason running with Batman, six months later. That was permanent too.

So one can imagine the confusion you felt when you opened the door to find a very much alive ex-Robin on your apartment doorstep. 

201 Arkham Street, apartment 317 Gotham City, Gotham County, New Jersey

That’s the address given to him by the Riddler. Putting him in Arkham seemed to be one thing that the Batman had got done during Jason’s little time away. Clearly it had ended up well enough for at least one person. Jason hadn’t even needed to threaten the Riddler out of riddling. In less than ten minutes, Edward Nygma had revealed the Mockingbird’s address, who they like and don’t like, what their suit was made of, and finally their name. Batman had always assumed Riddler and Mockingbird were best friends, birds of a feather with all the times the they’d seemed to make some kind of appearance by the others side. Some friend Riddler was now. 

Jason had snuck into the Batcave recently, and while going through files, decided to take a glimpse into Mockingbird’s just for the sake of curiosity. He wasn’t expecting much. When he was fifteen, it had been near empty. But sure enough, the file had been expanded upon relatively greatly in the past- what? Four years? That sounded right. But one thing that hadn’t changed was your seemingly long standing friendship with Edward Nygma, the Riddler. Still, so much for it. 

Batman had seemingly made a note of allies of theirs, then crossed out multiple names. Poison Ivy, Bane, Deadshot- and yes- the Riddler, stayed. Scarecrow, Black Mask, and Catwoman were all shockingly crossed out. Jason hadn’t expected the last one. Below the allies were the list of crimes. That had changed too. They’d gotten more violent towards the end of the list, straying away from the Mockingbird that the ex-Robin had known. Mockingbird had picked a fight with Dick’s Nightwing enough times for Batman to make a note of too. Before Jason could get to the new pictures of Mockingbird, he quickly closed the file. Didn’t need to see anymore. 

So based on what he had gathered, you should’ve looked different. He’d memorized your face when he was fifteen. Was expecting it to have changed compared to then. But when you open the door and Jason’s face to face with you, Mockingbird, it’s like the first time. Only your eyebrows have gotten slightly darker, and your eyes have rung with dark circles. 

✮ ✭ ✮

The same can’t be said for Jason Todd, however, who you let into your apartment rather quickly. 

You’d done your research on him, too, but only after you’d heard about his death. A death which was confirmed. After locking the door and beginning to turn around, he answers the question before you can ask. 

“Superboy and Lazarus Pits.”

“Ah,” you respond, crossing your arms. The man stands tall in your living room, though it’s not forced. You’ve got no idea what a Lazarus Pit is, but it seems to have changed the Robin you knew before. He was scrawny before. He puffed his chest out before. He had something to prove before. Now his broad shoulders make him look bigger naturally. He could reach up and touch your ceiling with no effort. His face and jaw are masculine and strong, eyes bright green and blue and cyan like you remember. That’s how you know it’s Jason Todd.

“It’s because of the power struggle, isn’t it?” says Harley beside you as you both look over the side of the roof, her flat on her belly and you crouched on the ledge in watch. 

“Hm?” you’d tossed back through your voice changer, not even looking away from the busy street below. 

“Jay killed the Robin,” Harley chirps. “You know- Batman’s little boyfriend? In the shorts and the tights with the flips and the kicks? Oh, that kid went bing, bang, boom. Jay’s been real pumped about it.”

This had made you turn to Harley Quinn. You looked at her over your shoulder, still in position. Though you hadn’t thought about it at the time, it was a good thing she couldn’t see through your mask right about now. 

“The kid?” you say at last. 

“Yeah! Jason Todd! Ya’ know him?”

Harley doesn’t look at you, bubbly as ever in her own world. But you watch her for a moment. Then you turn back around to the direction of the street. “No.”

“Well I’m sayin I bet that’s why there’s so much crime goin’ on now. Old Batty’s got it...”

“I heard,” you tell Jason, before he can go into further detail. He nods once in understanding, in line with a breath, and then looks around the room. Your apartment is small, seemingly in decay, and looks like a shithole. Just like the rest of the building. 

“Mockingbird, I presume,” he offers finally. “Y/N L/N was it?”

You nod once, holding your gaze at the ground in thought before taking a step toward your kitchen. It’s close by to the living room. So close, in fact, that your island counter practically touches the back of your couch. “Robin,” you greet in turn. 

“My name’s Ja-”

“I know what your name is.”

Just then a sprinkle of dust falls from your ceiling, mixing with dirt and shit and pollen. “Nice place,” Jason condescends. 

“I’m sorry,” you put your hands on your counter as you lean in to look at him. “Weren’t you under the ground not too long ago?”

“Weren’t you in jail not too long ago?”

“I never went to jail.”

“But your buddy Ed did didn’t he?”

Your eyebrows crease, and Jason notices you lean forward a fraction of an inch more. He got to you. “How do you know about Edward?”

Jason Todd gives a small smile. His right hand reaches up until it’s poking the side of his head a few times. “Bat knowledge.”

You frown tightly. “Don’t do that. I didn’t like that.”

“You like beating up Dick Grayson?”

You shift. “Yeah. I did.”

“And Catwoman? Huh?”

“Yeah,” you say a little louder. “I did. What wonder boy? You wanna see the scar to prove it?”

“Okay,” Jason huffs. He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching, and then he speaks softer to control himself. “Okay. I’m not Boy Wonder anymore, or wonder boy. Don’t call me that.”

You look him up and down. His eyes, his jaw, his brows. The Robin you knew those years ago. He’d been beaten and blown up. He must’ve cried for help. 

“Okay,” you say, equally as soft. “But just for the record, I haven’t been the Mockingbird for years. Can’t really call me that either.”

“Why not?” Jason Todd questions, turning around so his back faces you while he observes your apartment. You can see his muscles through his shirt. 

Because you were just a kid. Because I liked you. Because you didn’t deserve it. Because Batman didn’t help. Because you were replaced. Because most of my friends laughed it off. Because I couldn’t go after Joker myself. Because I got angry. 

“Just grew out of it,” you shrug instead, turning around. You open your dirty fridge and pull out a bottle of lemonade and two glasses. “What are you doing here, Jason?” you say as you pour the drink, your back now turned to him. 

“I need your help.”

“Whatever with?”

“I’m thinking of getting a little...” Jason’s voice goes low into something like a masculine purr, “...revenge on Batman.”

“You came back from the dead,” you turn around with two glasses of lemonade, “to get revenge on the Batman? That’s your great plan?”

“No,” Jason says simply. He’s since turned around so he’s facing you. “Screwing with the Batman is just a piece of the fun. He’s nothing.”

Jason accepts the glass that you hand to him. You sit down on your couch in front of his figure. That simple motion is enough to bring out some more dust from your walls. “So what’s the revenge?” you take a sip of the sweet, gritty liquid. It coats your teeth strangely in seconds. 

“New Robin. Ever heard of Tim Drake?”

You stop your sip, looking up at the big, broad Jason. You can already tell where this is going. “Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

His brows shoot up. “You hit me in the face with a pipe.”

“I didn’t hit you. You walked into my swing. But you wanna go after the kid, Jason? Really?”

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms so his forearms flex. 

“Tim Drake?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes in thought. On one hand, you hadn’t been Mockingbird for years. You stopped when you were eighteen, and you’re twenty one now. Not that it’s helped you very much. You’re still struggling in a shithole, broke and unhappy and no longer able to afford school. And Tim Drake hasn’t really done anything wrong. But on the other hand, Batman is a dick, and you really stopped liking him after what happened to the former Robin. You’d wanted to go after him and the Joker for it, but you’re not far enough in the Gotham food chain for that. Trading swings with Selina was as close as you got. 

“Alright.” You stand. You’re not even close to Jason’s height. “Lay out the deal. You got a suit?”

✮ ✭ ✮

And that’s how you and Jason Todd ended up on a roof that night. You, at the crisp age of twenty one, and he at what you suppose is his version of nineteen. Still working on wrapping your head around that one. 

You’ve pulled out your Mockingbird suit from under the bed. It was a bit dusty, but not hard to slip into. Everything seems in place. It’s just old. Your voice scrambler is still working okay and all the eyes light up efficiently. Jason’s got a suit too. 

“I don’t,” Jason answers, his face suspicious. His eyes are twinkling as he looks down at you. It’s so hard to believe he’s just a boy- or was, last you saw him. 

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “I got you.”

You lead Jason to your room, into your closet, and into a space even farther back where an illuminated glass case the size of several yard sticks stands. It must cost more than your whole apartment. Inside of it is a metal suit like a military uniform, similar to Bruce’s Batsuit but with an Arkham emblem over the chest. 

“Call it the Arkham Knight. You like it?”

“Where did you get this?” Jason steps forward, raking his eyes up and down the design. Bruce would hate it. 

“I stole it from the Batcave.”

“The whole display case?” Jason snaps to you. Then his brows shoot up and he takes a step closer. “How do you know where the Batcave is?”

“How did you know where my apartment is? And yes, I took the whole case. It was just sitting there.”

Jason turns back around to the suit. It’s growing on him. He admires it. It’s perfect. The Arkham symbol will put the Batman into a state of despair. “Hard to believe you and Selina aren’t friends anymore.”

“We never were,” you mutter back. It’s really not his business that you ended so many partnerships because of his death.

“You’re sure this is the place?” you question. It sends Jason into a state of euphoria, hearing the distorted villainy of your voice again. It feels like the first time too, just like when he saw your face again. It feels how it did when he was fifteen and infatuated with the Mockingbird. It’s almost dizzying. It’s just strange to hear it knowing that now you’re on the same side. 

“Yeah,” he answers through his helmet. His voice is distorted too. “This is the place.”

You’re overlooking a Gotham street at night, something you’ve both discovered vigilantes, heroes, and villains do a lot of. Smoke fills the air along with police sirens and building lights. You’re positioned in one of the outer districts though, away from most of the commotion. 

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” you say, half to yourself. 

“I can,” Jason says back. “When I ran with Batman. Last year. I was fifteen.” Jason's voice drops. “Or was I...”

You frown behind your own mask. Of course. Jason died four years ago, and he was fifteen when that happened. He came back- you’re not sure when- older and stronger and behind on the changes of the world. He must not know about social media, or the latest television crazes, or the new roads in Gotham. It makes you sad. 

All Jason sees when he meets your eyes through his visor is several red slanted lines. You’re both unreadable through your helmets. 

“There’s a good restaurant down on this corner,” you both turn back to the street, crouching in wait. “Maybe B-Man likes it.”

“He never eats,” says the ex-Robin. “Never sleeps. Never does anything.”

“You know he broke my buddy Scarecrow’s bones last Halloween?” you scoff. “Literally for not knowing where Black Mask is. Your old boss is weird as hell.”

Jason cocks an eyebrow you can’t see. “Thought you weren’t friends with Scarecrow anymore?”

“Anymore? B-Man keeping tabs on me?”

“He keeps tabs on everyone,” Jason shakes his head. “You’re just a file.”

“Hm,” he hears you say. Contemplate, more like. You speak again after a moment of silence. “Well Scarecrow and me are fine, thank you for asking.”

Jason scoffs. “He your boyfriend or something?”

“My boyfriend’s over in Metropolis.”

Oh. 

“How’s your girl?” Your head snaps to Jason at once, hands twitching around. “Or guy.”

He tosses a look to you that you can’t see, but you can guess at. Somewhere between ‘what the hell’ and ‘why the hell’ and an eye roll with furrowed brows. 

“Come on. Rose Wilson seems your type. Ooh, Artemis?” You suddenly nudge his arm with your elbow. “Batgirl? Is it Dick?”

Another look is thrown your way. This time it feels more angry. “Whatever, Robin,” you offer lightly. 

It dawns on you that perhaps Jason has never had a partner before. That seems more likely, especially after thinking about his situation, and suddenly you feel bad. It’s too late to vocalize an apology now though.

“Fine,” you say at last. “Let’s just stop talking.”

“Let’s do.”

✮ ✭ ✮

It starts raining not long after that. 

The drops bounce off your suits harmlessly. There’s still no sign of this Tim Drake and Batman. 

“Hey,” you break the silence. “Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like a statue?”

“Must be a resurrection thing.”

“Yep.”

The rain falls harsher.

“So,” Jason begins. “I have to ask. How do you do the- the…” he spins his pointer fingers around rapidly.

“What the fuck are you doing? What is that? No- what is that right there?”

“The thing that you do.”

“I’ve never done that in my life, Jason. What is that? Finger jiu jitsu?”

You hear Jason suck in a breath as he turns away. “You think you’re so funny.”

“You asked me for help. And between the two of us- who has died here? Not me. I’m hilarious.”

“Oh,” he scoffs. “So hilarious.”

“You seemed to think so. When…” your voice trails off. You almost wanted to mention that night in the warehouse to him. A memory of him looking up at you, his hands bound behind his back as he stares in wonder flashes in your mind. But it doesn’t linger for long. Movement in the street catches your eye. “Jason.”

Both your heads snap down to the place below. Sure enough, after a few seconds, a figure steps into view of the moonlight. A skinny kid with dark hair and a bright red and yellow costume. He looks younger than Dick or Jason.

“That’s him,” your partner says. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a long rod. It unfolds with a click that you recognize- the click of a gun.

“What?” you furrow your brows. “Woah- what?”

“I’m gonna shoot him,” Jason tells you casually, fiddling around with the weapon. It’s coming into shape more and more as a sniper rifle.

“That is a child,” you whisper hiss. “He’s like ten!”

“I don’t think he’s ten,” Jason puts his eye over the scope. “This is revenge.”

“Please, do not shoot a child for replacing you in your job of tightie whities vigilante.”

Jason huffs through his mask and looks over at you. “What did you think this was, bird?”

“I thought we were just like, gonna kick him in the balls or something! This is exactly what I meant by ‘we are going to jail’! I told you we should’ve let god fix it!”

“He’ll be fine.”

You knock the rifle out of the Arkham Knights hands with a bang. It clambers across the roof top until it’s nearly over the edge, half on half off.

Jason and you go down at once, shoulder to shoulder in a tackle. Thunder booms overhead. Through his visor, Jason sees you raise a white, gauntleted fist back in a punch, aimed right for his face. Luckily, he manages to catch you by the torso and neck and throw you off.

When he pushes himself to his knee and foot in a kneel, he looks up to find an exact replica of himself. Not literally, of course, but looking at you is like looking into a mirror. Your hand is placed on the rooftop the same way his is. Your knees are bent at the exact same angle as his own. When Jason cocks his head to the side slowly, yours follows him at the same time. So this is what it means to fight the Mockingbird.

He decides to reach for the gun at the side of his leg. He manages to fire once- and miss- a bang going off that he’ll be lucky Drake doesn’t hear over the storm. You knock the gun out of his hands easily, dodging a punch to the stomach before countering with one of your own to his face. It hits the exact same way Jason’s do. He sees your knuckles coming closer to him and almost thinks they’re his own.

Next idea is toss you off the building. Key word: you. Not him.

Jason grips the back of your head through your hood, reaching around. He carries you with him while he stands, tensing his abs as he feels you hammer your elbow away at them. It’s the knee to his crotch that makes him let go and let out a strangled groan.

But before anything else can happen, you spring forward at him in a pounce. Your palms latch onto his shoulders. His feet disconnect from the surface of the roof and the both of you go backwards until neither one of you are on the building at all, over the side.

Jason gets tangled in the emergency stair well. His metal suit clangs against it as he falls and tumbles down, either causing or saving some head injuries. You hit your back on an old street light before landing in a trash bin.

This is it, you manage to think to yourself. Lying in a garbage bin in Gotham at night. And in the rain. This is rock bottom.

I am going to kill everyone on the block for this, thinks Jason.

✮ ✭ ✮

You do eventually get up and remove yourself from the garbage bin. Jason sits at the bottom of the stairs, watching you. You do not exchange words. He does, however, follow you down the street as you essentially stomp.

“Ma’am,” he offers quietly to a gawking older woman.

You enter a small restaurant. More of a diner, really. The door jingles as it opens, and Jason watches you walk to the side until you find a table by the window. You sit down with a huff, tapping one of your helmets red eyes. He shuffles into the space ahead of you, nearly skirting the table across the floor with the bulk of his own muscle and suit. He can feel your judgy eyes on him as he clambers into the seat like a large, run down father.

“Hi there,” a chirpy waitress bounds. She’s a large, redheaded woman in a bright yellow uniform and a hat with a spring connected to a plastic burger on top. It is ridiculous, funny, and you are sadly not in the mood. “My, aren’t you two some interesting looking people! We don’t get a lot of men of metal around here!”

You both look at her silently, masks on but hatred seeping through boredly.

“What can I get you tonight?”

“A gun,” you drawl tiredly, rubbing your palms over your mask.

“We’re not sellin’ those right now, my dear. Something else?”

“Two cheeseburgers would be fine,” Jason speaks up for you.

“Two burgers,” the waitress repeats with a smile, writing it down in her burger notepad. Her cheeks are rosy as she beams happily. “And should I be expecting Superman?”

“Die,” you snap to her, watching her hurry off to the kitchen. Then you put your head down in your folded arms on the table.

Jason glanced around. It’s empty except for the two of you and some dumpy guy in a trucker hat with wide eyes. “What’re you staring at?” Jason all but barks. Normally, he tries to make himself as unnoticeable as possible in public. Not very confident or secure, it seems. But now he’s tired. He just fell down about a million floors worth of metal stairs. It’s late and he lost two of his guns.

“What?” you raise your head, also looking at the trucker hat man. “You’ve never seen two people in superhero suits before?”

“Beat it,” Jason orders.

The man is quick to stand and speed walk away. Still you egg on, “get out of here, bozo!”

“What a fuckin’ prick,” Jason grumbles as he watches the man trip down the street through his view from the window, the door still ringing to signal it’s been opened.

“Yeah,” you agree tiredly.

Your nimble fingers reach up and back to push your white hood from your head. Then they click against the sides of your face and pull the helmet away, revealing your face. You inhale as if you couldn’t get enough air before. Jason watches you, still as a statue, his visor giving him the luxury of being able to monitor your breathing.

“Now what?” you gripe, rubbing your eyes. It can’t be comfortable with all the armor on your hands, but you don’t seem bothered. You must’ve gotten used to it by now.

The Arkham Knight ahead of you only cocks his head to the side slightly. Silent with his helmet. “I’ll help you punch Tim but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Why are you defending this kid?” you hear Jason breathe in return. For a split second, electricity runs through you at the sound of his distorted voice, the way his body looks in his suit of armor and how unreadable he is through the helmet. It shocks you all the the way down to your crotch.

“You know,” you begin, eyes widening and voice quieting with a sudden nervousness. “He’s just a kid. Younger than you were.”

Jason scoffs and turns his head away from you, now looking out the window. Gotham is dark and damp outside. “Bullshit,” he scoffs. Then after a few seconds and continues. “Tim Drake and I are the same age.” His head pulls back slightly, fingers giving a strange, sudden twitch. “Or were. We’re-”

You’ll never know what Tim Drake and Jason Todd were. Jason never finishes his sentence, and only his suit flashes with little codes and details to let you know he’s still alive in there. Besides that, he’s as still, lost in sudden thought. You frown and lean in a bit, tapping your elbow with your fingers while you shift uncomfortably. “You’re nineteen, Jason.”

His head twitches again. Now you know he’s heard you. “I’m two years older than you,” you reason. “You’re nineteen.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Why did you let me go?”

Your eyebrows scrunch and unscrunch. Another wave of electricity shocks down your body, but this time it’s because his voice sounded more like his own. You could hear it under the layers of metal and distortion. But option one is to respond to his question by pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. That seems like it’s for the best.

“You were just a kid,” you tell him honestly. He silently presses you on. “And I just- I looked at you and I…” I really liked you, kid. Best night I had in years. Made me smile. God, you had to stop working with so many other Gotham city villains just for making jokes about the kid. “You were fifteen,” you say, looking away. “Just a kid.”

Jason watches you. Again, your head turns so you look out the window. He would’ve expected that to be the end of it, but you continue. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

Jason’s about to pretend to not know what you’re talking about, because it seems like it’s for the best that way. But then he remembers you can’t see anything through his helmet. “What’re you talking about?” he gruffs.

“You saw my face in that warehouse,” you press. “If you had told Batman, I would’ve been to jail. Maybe Arkham. But that never happened. So why didn’t you tell him?”

I was obsessed with you, Jason’s mind screams. In love with you! It hisses, which makes Jason cringe. “Guess you were a kid too.” That’s right. You were seventeen back then. What is that? Last year of high school? You balanced a criminal career and the required education for a minor at the same time. Where were your parents during this?

Jason bites down on his lip hard. Parents. Should shut up about that, probably.

“I’m uh,” you bite your lip and then lick it. “I’m sorry for pushing you. On the roof.”

He shifts. “It’s nothing.”

You turn back to the window. Your arms uncross from atop the table and go to rest in your lap. This close and this still, Jason can make out all the details in your suit. It’s impressive. Kevlar and rubber and plastic, the Riddler had told him. Not the gloves. That’s metal and plastic. 

“So,” Jason decides. “How do you that?” Your brows crease in confusion. He tries to do the finger motions he’d down before, which makes you cringe. “The mirroring. And the fighting and the…” he goes through the motions again. “It in your helmet?”

Your confusion sinks away. A new expression washes over your face as you lean in. One finger reaches up, poking your temple and you smile softly. “Bat knowledge.”

Just then, the waitress saves the day. “Two cheeseburgers for the scary suit people!” she beams, setting the plates down. For a second, her breasts are pressed into each of your faces. Jason first, who does not move and you can’t see under the helmet. You bite back a snicker but instead seep a childish look. Then you’re next, and you can feel Jason’s silent laugh under his Arkham Knight suit as your eyes go wide. “Enjoy, dears!”

“Boobs,” you shiver. “Just got boobs in my face.” And then Jason watches you carefully pick up the burger in your dangerous gloves, and take a bite.

Indeed, for the first time that night, the man in front of you reaches up and pulls off his own helmet with a click. You watch it be taken into his large, veiny hands and passed to the edge of the table, against the wall of the window. Then your eyes wander up to his face, which makes you chew slower.

A strong face. Sharp jaw, perfectly in line nose. Lips always pulled into a scowl. Bright eyes with tired circles and scars across his skin. There’s a streak of white in his dark hair you hadn’t noticed at all before, though now it’s practically blaring you in the face. Jason Todd is very handsome. 

“What?” he says behind his burger, raising it to his lips but freezing before he can bite into it.

You shrug and focus again on your burger. You hear Jason bite into his own.

“I don’t have any money,” you tell him after a moment, swallowing down a bite.

“Me neither,” Jason answers. He nudges his head towards the window. “There’s an ATM across the street.” You nod in response.

A few bites in you speak again. The minutes have been filled with the noises of chewing and swallowing and yummy meat and cheese. “You ever heard of Mitski?”

Jason swallows his bite, which are bigger than yours. “What?”

“Mitski,” you repeat. “The singer?” Jason shakes his head. “You seem like you’d like her. My boyfriend hates her.”

Jason’s brows twitch.

“Why aren’t you with him?” he questions, taking another bite.

You roll your eyes. “Too expensive. He’s-”

“But he lives there.”

“He just didn’t offer,” you shrug. “I don’t have the money anyway. It’s fine.”

Jason cocks a brow. Your own boyfriend didn’t offer to get you out of this shithole?

You roll your eyes. “We haven’t talked in a long time okay? He’s busy. I’m busy.”

Both of Jason’s brows raise now, almost playfully. “Busy with what?”

You’d be offended if you weren’t busy trying to answer. What were you busy with? After you graduated, money went dry with university. It became less frequent after retiring from the Mockingbird mantle. Most of your jobs were minimum wage and short lived. You’re a bartender now, but not somewhere that’ll keep you going probably. Most days you sit around the apartment or run errands, sometimes hosting Ivy. Last time she’d been over, she’d given you a plant that had quickly died and spoke about Harley quite a bit. And Riddler obviously doesn’t come over anymore. Scarecrow had once but he’s off doing god only knows now. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “What are you busy with?”

“Controlling crime in Gotham,” Jason takes a bite.

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well.”

“You know you didn’t have to ask me to do this,” you say. “You could’ve just asked someone else. There’s a lot of people in Gotham okay with child killing.”

“I wanted you,” Jason explains. He’s quick to speak again to keep you from thinking about his words. “You were the first person I thought of.”

You’re nearing the end of your burger. “How did you find me?”

Jason shrugs mid-chew. He’s almost done as well. “Riddler.”

“Gave me away that easy?”

“Yep.”

You chew your last bite. It was a good and hearty burger, the cheese melting perfectly against the patty and your tongue.

“You want anything else?” Jason asks.

You watch the street outside, eyes squinting on the ATM. “Jason,” you mutter. “Jason.”

✮ ✭ ✮

Three men snicker as they load up dark blue duffel bags. They’re slimey and smelly, like an old sewer. Money falls from the machine like a waterfall.

Their success doesn’t last long.

One of them comes in contact with the Mockingbird’s elbow and slams his head into a brick building. The other two are just inexplicably on the ground, incapacitated while the Arkham Knight stands overhead.

“Fuck,” you breathe through your helmet. “I missed this.”

Jason’s just picked up the duffel bag when the sudden sound of sirens blare through the air. It’s close. Too close.

“Well that’s no good,” you mutter. You turn to Jason, taking a sharp step forward. “Give it to me.”

His brows furrow under the mask.

“I’ll pay the waitress,” you say. “You run.”

Jason reaches behind his belt and shifts the weight of the bag into one hand. A gun appears- a small handgun. You duck down as he raises it at you, holding your head down as the BANG! rings through the air.

You stand back to your feet, bracing yourself at the sudden sight. The Arkham Knight charges you, but only to pick you up like you’re nothing and jump through the glass window he previously shot at. The adrenaline makes things hazy, but you can see the blue and red lights now. It doesn’t matter. The two of you fly across what turns out to be a pawn shop, burst through the back door and back room until you hit the cold outside air of Gotham again. Multiple doors slam shut behind you. You’re both out of breath and panting, and it’s raining again. This time in an alleyway.

But the cops won’t follow you out here.

It’s quiet besides the panting from you two. Jason has more endurance, you’re sure, but you can hear his breathing inside his helmet. He lets the duffel bag slip out of his grasp as you double over. “I did miss that,” you offer. “Running from the police.” The Arkham Knight just continues his breathing.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

✮ ✭ ✮

Two days after the incident, you enter your apartment lazily. Your keys are tossed onto the island counter before you wander through your mail. One of your letters is from Ed in Arkham, warning you about “some big guy asking about you”. A bit late for that now. You haven’t heard from Jason since that night.

It isn’t until you go to sit on your couch that you notice a large, nearly bursting open envelope. Your fingers stretch to reach it, examining it. No return address, but written in pen in sloppy letters is the word “Bird”. Luckily, it doesn’t feel like a bomb. It feels more soft but firm.

You open the envelope. Your breathing hitches, breath slowing when you see what’s inside. Then a smirk comes over your face.

Just then, dust falls from your shitty apartment ceiling.

✮ ✭ ✮

A week after the failed Tim Drake incident, a young man decides to pay a visit to your building. He is tall and strong, with raven hair laced with a white streak at the front. He frowns at everything, ducking his head to make himself smaller and less noticeable. He cares not for being perceived by other people. He’s well aware of how he looks.

The man’s knuckles tap against apartment 317. He shifts, looking back and forth. The man is quite attractive in is casual red hoodie and jeans, but he wants to be out of the open as soon as he can. After a moment, there is no response from inside.

He scrunches his brows and knocks again. When he takes a step closer, he can hear something from the inside. Music. A piano and drums and maybe an organ?

Jason twists the door knob with ease and steps ahead and inside. The apartment is completely and totally empty. The music becomes louder and more clear. It’s a female singer he doesn’t recognize.

Only the bones of the kitchen remain. Counters, cabinets, a sink, and an old fridge. There’s mold in the corner of the space. But in the middle of the floor where the couch and living room used to be is a cluster of things. Things meant for Jason Todd. 

The man eyes the pile for a few seconds. Then he sets towards it. The first thing he recognizes is a CD player with the volume turned all the way up. He still doesn’t know the song.

Besides the player is a suit he’s quite familiar with. It’s clunky, but folded as neatly as it can be given that it’s made of metal. On the top is the helmet that gives it away. The Arkham Knight suit. It sits on a dark duffel bag in front of a small white piece of paper with the promise of ink inside. Jason decides to open that first.

You’re coming back… and it’s the end of the world…

Haha! I knew you’d show up!

Jason nearly rolls his eyes at the first sentence.

Thanks for the money. I know it was you. Thanks for the fun night too. Sorry about hitting your balls. They felt really big if that makes you feel better.

It didn’t.

I was thinking of Metropolis, but what do you know, me and the boy toy decided it might be better to hold off on it. I got a bit of dirt on the kid by the way. You’ll find it on the back of this paper. Oh and I hope you like the Mitski soundtrack. I bet Drake’s the kind too. I’m going to keep the Mockingbird suit if you don’t mind. I guess our night of fun kinda reignited an old flame. Don’t even think about coming after me.

Son of a bitch, Jason internally screams.

I have a gift for you though. You get the Arkham Knight. You look good in it. And a little something extra in the bag by the way. 

Love, Mockingbird.

I just need a quiet place… where I can scream, how I love you…

Indeed, inside the duffel bag Jason Todd finds some cash and red fabric with an R emblem over the chest. He doesn’t need to pull the rest out to understand what it is. He decides not to question how you got his old Robin suit or when, but lets himself smile a bit, his chest expanding with his breath. It’s a real smile too. 

You’ve given Jason everything he needs to go after Tim Drake himself.

✮ ✭ ✮

I hope I’ve ruined everyone’s day. You think I would let the reader and Jason be happy together? You absolute baffoon. Maybe I’ll make a part three for gits and shiggles though. I’m not sure about this one. Definitely more based around their interactions than the drama unlike the first one. It was fun though. I hit the paragraph limit. I think I did a good job with the chemistry. I do apologize for giving the reader a real set in stone age though. I don’t like to to that because I think it takes away the point of having a ‘reader’. Also if you’re vegetarian please just eat a cheeseburger it’s so good y’all are weird. Oh and fun fact I just got a Red Hood tattoo on Saturday! Look at me go!

Tagging everyone who asked for a part ii: @yunho-leeknow @fyowyn-writes @martianmilfhunter @beardedfandiplomatprofessor

#dc robin x reader #dc jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader #robin x reader #x reader #redhood x reader #red hood x reader #dc redhood x reader #dc red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc red hood imagine #dc redhood imagine #jason todd imagine #imagine #imagines #jason todd imagines #redhood imagines #dc redhood imagines #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #red hood fanfction #redhood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #red hood angst #red hood fluff #fluff #angst

[ayamari-no-goshi]

To Join the Whispers (4)

AO3

Fandoms: Danny Phantom (DP) / DC universe

Summary:  THIS IS A CROSSOVER A contact for the Batfamily passed along a rumor that the League of Assassins were investigating a small city called Amity Park. The old man and Tim managed to find evidence of unusual paranormal activity in the town. While they weren’t entirely certain it wasn’t just infested with metas, the locals believed the entities that haunted, for lack of a better word, the town were actual ghosts. If there was one thing Ra’s al Ghul didn’t need to get his grubby hands on, it was ghosts.That’s probably why Jason was doing this. He had the unfortunate luck to experience both death and resurrection in a way he’d never recommend to anyone else.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, and questionable mental health

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr. Jason Todd-centric

Well, Bruce was the one who took Danny home. According to everyone else, he would jostled the kid too much while carrying him. Just because he doesn’t particularly like using grappling hooks, it doesn’t mean he can’t move smoothly.

But, he’d been tasked to work with Tim and Dick to review the information they took from the assassins’ bodies while the other three would return to the warehouse to see if they could find any more information. Bruce didn’t want him anywhere near an area where the G.I.W. could possibly be, at least until it was certain the organization’s equipment wouldn’t detect him. If anti-ghost equipment could harm him, it was possible various scanners could detect him.

They wanted to check it first with the one they got from the Fentons. Maddie had gone over how it worked, but due to Danny being in the house, she explained it would end up giving false readings. Might have been a good thing in the long run. As much as he was curious to see how badly the Fentons would react, making a public scene was currently a bad idea. They were trying to be discrete after all.

However, Jason decided to stay true to his promise to himself and get that shower first. He was not going to continue to stink like ghost bear spit for the rest of the night.

He tried to keep his mind from wandering too much during the shower. He knew full well that he shouldn’t have been able to physically attack a ghost, but he didn’t have much time to question it at the time. Had he been able to do that since he came back from the dead? What else did the Pit do to him other than the obvious body enhancement? Knowing he wouldn’t get an answer from his own thoughts, he decided to finish up and rejoin Dick and Tim.

“Find any… never mind.” He was going to ask but seeing as Tim already had two empty coffee cups and Dick was hanging halfway off the bed reading something, they didn’t have anything just yet. “What do you want me to start with?”

“Can you look at the readings of the assassins?” Tim didn’t even look up from his laptop.

He grabbed his own computer, specifically supplied by Bruce for this mission, and began sorting through the information Babs organized for them. She also might be looking through the same information, but it was also possible her focus was on something else, like the Fenton’s research or looking into Masters.

Duke’s abilities suggested the assassins died shortly before they arrived to take them out, and the reading verified it. However, there was an odd temperature reading around the chest on the first one he checked. After death, the body cools down over the course of several hours, but it doesn’t heat up. There was somewhat circular spot much warmer than the surrounding tissue just over the heat. A quick check showed the other four had the same spot.

“I might have something.” His brothers crowded around as he pointed out the discovery.

“Could it have been a heat ray or something like that?” Dick questioned. “No, that wouldn’t make sense. There’s no evidence of the heart or any other organ being cooked, and the skin doesn’t seem to have been burned.”

“Could it have really been a ghost, and that’s where it, or a hand at least, entered the body?”

Tim frowned as he turned his attention back to his laptop. “But aren’t ghosts supposed to be cold. Phantom’s readings are insane, and I have no idea how he’s still alive… well, at least partially alive. How does that work?”

“We’d probably have to ask Phantom that one,” Babs answered over their communicators. “However, some of the Fenton’s and even the G.I.W’s research suggest that some ghosts do have abnormally warn temperatures. The ones I can find have obvious fire related abilities, but it does appear most of them run cold.”

“I guess we can’t rule out ghosts.”

“Babs, do you have any data about a ghost named Plasmius?” Jason had a sinking suspicion that Masters was somehow involved, especially after the appearance of the mutant ghost animals.

“Honestly, I don’t have a lot,” Babs replied accompanied by some tapping. “We only have a few hints from the Fenton’s research. There’s nothing in the G.I.W.’s database, but there seems to be some evidence of tampering. If they previously had anything, it’s long gone.”

“Any chance of restoring it?” Dick questioned as he maneuvered himself between his brothers.

“At this point, I doubt it, but I’ll look to see if I can find the hacking signature.”

Jason absently rubbed the large scar on his chest as he leaned away from Dick. “So, what do we have on him?”

“I’ll send you the files, but honestly, it’s just the basics like appearance, approx. height, noted abilities.”

“Phantom wasn’t joking when he said Plasmius looks like a vampire.” After a quick review, Jason was disappointed that there wasn’t a temperature recording for Plasmius. However, there was a note mentioned that either fire or electrical abilities were suspected. While it didn’t confirm anything, other heroes and villains with those types of abilities did tend to be warmer than the average person.

After a moment of debating, he added, “You know… the Pit did react to something when we reached the perimeter of the warehouse.”

“You said you didn’t sense anything,” Tim glanced over at him.

“Once we were inside, I didn’t until Phantom showed up.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It stirs a lot, and I thought it was just that. But maybe it wasn’t. It’s not like I really understand how this works.”

Dick attempted to pat his shoulder, only for him to bat it away. “We’ll talk to B about it. You might have to start letting us know when that happens until we get to the bottom of this.”

“If you want false alarms all day, sure, because it happens all the time, especially here.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you can tell when it’s Phantom though,” Babs noted.

“Yeah… it’s…” he frowned for a moment as he tried to find the word, “…like a greeting? It’s stupid when I try to explain it, but it really didn’t like those ghost animals.” If he wasn’t mistaken, his brothers wanted him to elaborate further. Too bad he wasn’t going to. “I’m going to review those images again, but unless something jumps out at me, I’m pretty sure a ghost is our best bet for a culprit.”

About an hour later, the rest of them returned to the hotel room. Although it wasn’t obvious to the untrained, the Batman was irritated. The G.I.W. contaminated the entire scene with their equipment. This included driving a tank through one of the walls and, judging by scorch marks, destroyed another one with some of their weaponry. Some of them were also still lingering around the fencing.

They quickly exchanged information. While they couldn’t eliminate another force dealing with the League, as of right now they agreed the current most likely suspect was Masters. While Tim shifted back to working on the belts, Bruce took over for him. Jason, on the other hand, decided to investigate Masters.

On the surface, everything seemed normal. However, with a little help from Babs, they found a lot more than they expected. “No wonder why Danny calls him a Fruitloop,” he mumbled. Weapons, ectoplasmic composition, ectobiology, cloning, and something referred to as ecto-acne were just the tip of the iceberg. He had to recruit Duke and Dick to help sort through all of it.

After a few hours, Tim announced that he thought he had isolated Phantom’s ectosignature from the samples he took from the kid when he was bandaging him. And with a caffeine-fueled grin, he demanded a blood sample from Jason.

“You have that on file already.” He narrowed his eyes. The most recent sample had been personally provided by him when he revealed himself to Bruce after his resurrection.

“Yeah, but I need a fresh one to try to figure out your ecto-signature. If I remember, there were some abnormalities in it.” Of course, the little nerd remembered that without checking. “We believed that was residue from the Pit. I’ll have to double check, but we might be able to label it as ectoplasm now.”

After rolling his eyes, Jason used one of his knives to cut the back of his hand and held it out to his brother. With the sharpness of the blade and the enhanced healing the Pit gifted him, it’d be mostly healed within a few hours. He’d still have to wrap it just to prevent any chance of it getting on anything prior to that. Leaving as little trace as possible was figuratively beaten into them.

The regular chatter soon filled the room as they continued to work on their projects. While they still had little to go on regarding the assassins, they slowly uncovered a great deal about Masters. If what Babs uncovered was correct, Masters had spent a great deal of time trying to cover up what was happening in Amity. There were several files regarding various events in the town and what was provided to outside sources.

On top of that, there were several documents regarding Danny and his family. The man was absolutely obsessed with the Fentons, particularly Danny and his mother. And if the files were accurate, the man tried to clone Danny several times but stopped after catastrophic damage to his equipment. That’s probably what Danny referenced when talking about the experiments. The oddest thing was the apparent lack of interaction with known supervillains outside of regular business deals.

“Was it really just a fight over turf?” Duke yawned as he flopped backwards on the bed.

“Until we have evidence to prove otherwise, it seems that way,” Bruce agreed.

With no other obvious motive, it really seemed Masters was trying to keep others from interfering in the town. What surprised Jason was the man only seemed to make a tentative move against them. Perhaps he wanted to see if they were only interested in the assassins? Or were mutant ghost animals retaliation for befriending Danny?

Damian tutted. “I still find it unlikely men trained by grandfather would lose in such a battle.” Cass silently nodded.

“You couldn’t detect Phantom, could you?” Tim glanced away from his tinkering for just a moment.

The brat huffed and glanced away. “That’s different.”

With a stretch, Jason popped his back. “If it was Masters, he can sneak in undetected and his multiple foes at once. He’s a new type of enemy with unusual tactics. Anyways, did someone want to see if that Fenton device worked?”

Dick’s grin could only be considered childish as he flipped over the bed to grab the device. Show off. “I call dibs!”

Within moments, the device was booted up and a pleasant but robotic voice spoke, “Welcome to the Fenton Finder. There is a ghost four feet in front of you. You would have to be an idiot not to see the ghost in front of you. Thank you for using the Fenton Finder.”

Jason tried to suppress his desire to punch Dick in the mouth for the stupid shit eatting grin currently plastered on his face. “Don’t even say it.”

…

They slept in shifts. Tim was forced to sleep on the first shift. He tried arguing, but a threat of bodily harm helped convince him. Jason was not above pistol whipping his brother. He had kneed him the groin before. Or was that Dick? He was dealing with both of them at that particular moment.

He slept on the third shift. Why their hotel had a presidential suite baffled Jason since Amity wasn’t considerably important compared to say Gotham, Metropolis, or Star City, but it was nice having a place big enough that they could go into a separate room to sleep. It reduced the likelihood he’d be rudely woken up with Tim zapping him, but it didn’t completely get rid of the possibility.

If Tim pulled that crap, he would punch the idiot in the mouth.

Sleeping didn’t come easy. His dreams kept throwing him back in the Pit, complete with the unimaginable pain of being forced back to life. His psyche must have been sick of the reminder as he jolted awake.

But he didn’t wake up in a bed. Instead, wooden planks filled his vision. Was it a coffin? It better not be a coffin. Someone was going to die if it was. For years, he had nightmares about waking up in one. It hadn’t been something brought up to his family, but he did mention it in passing to Roy once.

However, after a quick glance. He realized he was just under the bed. Cussing out his family for playing such a stupid prank on him, he began the very annoying process of trying to get out from under it. His body type made it more difficult than it needed to be.

How the heck did they pull it off anyways? He’d heard of some of the pranks between Dick, Tim, and Damian, but those didn’t usually involve physically picking someone up off a bed. They were all trained to be light sleepers, and unless sleep deprivation took over, being jostled usually was enough to wake them up.

Grumbling after finally getting out from behind the bed, he glanced up to see Dick staring at him from the other bed. “What’s your problem?”

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “Was the bed that uncomfortable?”

“If I find out you put me under there, I’m going to break your leg.”

“That’s enough of that,” Bruce warned as he appeared in the doorway.

“Judging by your scowl, I’m going to bet we don’t have any new information.” Jason glanced at the clock on the nearby desk. It was just past seven a.m.

“Correct. Both Masters and the Fentons have already contacted me.”

Dick let out a low whistle. “The Fentons are already done with our order? I’m actually impressed. You said they’re an entirely independent operation, right?”

“That’s what it looked like. That basement of theirs is a lot like a smaller version of something you’d see at Star Labs or Cadmus,” Jason crossed his arms as he shifted his weight. “What did Masters want?”

“Business meeting, or at least that what it sounds like. He wanted to meet in neutral ground at a local restaurant. I was going to bring Tim and Damian with me while Cass and Duke search his manor.”

“That leaves us to talk to the Fentons.” Dick frowned as he went over the plan. “Why would you have Damian come with you?”

Bruce gave an almost smug smile. “Masters doesn’t seem to know how to handle him.”

….

After getting ready, Bruce pulled him aside. “I’d like you to see if you can get a clearer picture of Danny’s homelife while you’re there.”

“Was already going to do that,” with how Danny’s parents acted around his ghost form, making sure the kid was safe at home was already at the top of Jason’s list of things he needed to do while still in Amity, “but are you sure you want me at the Fenton home?” It did have what they could basically call an artificial Lazarus Pit in the basement.

“You have the best rapport with the children. We still don’t have a clear picture of what Masters wants.”

“And you want me to see if Danny will be willing to give me more information. Got it.” Before he could move, Jason noted that Tim was approaching with Spector Deflector. “Guess you want me to test it before I leave?”

Tim held it out. “I think I finally figured it out.”

He heard that one before. After a needed eyeroll, he grabbed it. However, instead of the intense shocking pain of before, this was more akin to an unpleasant buzzing similar to using certain types of power tools. “Still feel it, but it’s nothing like what it was. I wouldn’t want to wear it for any length of time, but I’d love to hear what happens when Masters touches it.”

“I might not have enough time to tinker with it and fix the other belts before tonight so you might have to deal with it.” Tim then grinned at him. “I’ll tell you how Masters reacts when we get back.”

“Jay, you ready?” Dick called from near the door. He seemed almost giddy to leave. He hadn’t seen the Fenton household yet, so maybe that’s why he was so excited?

Shaking his head, he moved to grab his jacket. “Just need this…?” He thought he grabbed his jacket, but somehow his hand was sticking through it. Pulling his hand out of the leather, he found it appeared as a pale shadow of itself until about midway up his forearm. “Well, that’s new.”

Immediate alarm spread through the room. Everyone wanted to make sure he was okay, and that involved touching and more than a few scans. Sometime during the scuffle and trying to keep Dick away from him, his arm went back to normal.

“Back off! It’s fine now,” he snarled as he grabbed his coat.

“But, but you don’t know that,” Duke spoke up. “You said this wasn’t normal.”

Tim hummed for a moment as he checked the scans. “Vitals look normal, but didn’t you say the entire town feels like a toned-down version of the Pit? Maybe it has something to do with that?”

“Until we know what’s going on…”

Jason bristled Bruce’s attempt at concern. “Bruce, don’t finish that statement. If this is because of the town, do you really think staying here is going to change anything? It’s even more reason to talk to Danny. He’s probably the only one who might be able to explain what that was or if it’ll be a problem.”

…

“You know he’s worried about you.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “He certainly likes to pick and choose when he cares. Dick, you know how he is. Right now, he’s only worried about whether or not I’ll compromise the mission. Maybe if we were on our way home, I’d buy it, but not now.”

Dick stood in front of him, forcing him to stop walking. “Little wing… Jay… what happened to you affected him, badly. You didn’t get to see it. On top of that, you’re the only one we know of who seems to be permanently affected by the Pit.”

“Yeah? Well, it sucks.” Jason pushed past his brother and continued forward. Dick wasn’t wrong. The effects of the Pit were supposed to dissipate after a while, but they never did for him. “I had heard Cass was resurrected in it too. But she’s clearly not crazy.” He left out the obvious, ‘Like I am.’

“The only thing I think makes you crazy is your dislike of grappling hooks.”

“I don’t dislike them. I just don’t need them as much as you do.” He smiled despite himself. It was true. He had gotten so use to being able to bounce off the side of a building or catching himself with a ledge or flagpole that grappling hooks just weren’t as appealing as when he was younger. Made a great trick when trying to catch the attention of a Kryptonian. He still had one, just in case.

His brother nudged him with his elbow. “Now you’re smiling. None of us are still really sure what happened to you once you came back, but we’ve started seeing glimpses of the old you. That’s probably thanks to Kori and Roy more than anything we’ve done to help.”

When he didn’t respond, Dick took that as an invitation to continue. “We’re in new territory when it comes to ghosts and the like, so we’re all a bit on edge.”

“Meaning you’re worried I’m going to go on a killing spree.”

“What? No!”

“You don’t have to hide it.” Jason glanced up at the sky before taking a cigarette out of his jacket and lighting it. “The need… desire… obsession? I don’t know how to explain it… for taking them out, permanently, hasn’t been as bad for a while now.”

“Except for Joker.”

“Can you blame me on that one?”

“No, not really.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as they continued to walk until Dick pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. “What the fuck?”

“You know these will kill you.” Dick just grinned in a teasing way as he stomped out the cig.

“Been there. Done that. I think I’ll take my chances, especially if it helps me deal with nosey assholes like you.”

“You wound me, brother.” He dramatically placed the back of his hand on his forehead. “So, what’s the Fenton Portal like?”

“You know, if you ask them, I have a strong feeling they’ll show you.” Jason had no doubt the Fentons would do that. Glancing up, he caught sight of the metal monstrosity on the roof of the Fenton household. He gestured to it. “And that’s our destination.”

“How on earth is that even allowed?”

….

As predicted, the Fenton adults were more than happy to show Dick the portal after being introduced to them. Jason opted to stay in the kitchen while that occurred which was code for he was going to take a look around. However, he did make sure to ask two questions, one about the security system they had and the second about the hunk of metal they called the ops center.

Like Tim had found on his preliminary surveillance, their security system did include lasers. And after the quick demonstration via Jack, they quickly found out there were a lot of them. Who in their right mind did that in the main part of the house? He could see them doing that in the lab, but the staircase too? There were even metal claws and ecto-weaponry that appeared out of, well, everywhere.

After turning off the internal security, Maddie casually mentioned that the weapons vault under the stairs could withstand almost any attack. Who in their right mind mentioned something like that to a virtual stranger?

Moments after that, both Jazz and an exhausted looking Danny hurried down the stairs. After Jazz reprimanded her parents for turning on the security, she greeted him and introduced herself and Danny to Dick, followed by an apology about having them see that.

“Oh, Jazzy-pants, now that you’re here, can you show Jason the Ops Center? We were going to show Dick the portal, but he’s already seen that,” Jack requested while wearing his signature grin. Apparently, he was a morning person. If he wasn’t, how in the world was he so excited so early?

“Are you seriously going to open that thing again?” Jazz demanded.

“It’s perfectly safe. Besides, we’ll be there.”

“Your mother is right. If any ghost scum bursts through, we’ll be there to take care of it!” Jack puffed his chest out. He was certainly sure of himself, but Jazz and Danny just shared a look.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll just be a few minutes, and then we’ll met you up in the Ops Center.” With that, Maddie led the way down the stairs to their lab. Jack wrapped his arm around Dick’s shoulders as he escorted him while talking about ghosts.

Dick looked back at him in mild concern. Jason just smiled and waved.

“You’re not worried?” Jazz questioned, noticing his reaction.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. “Dick can take care of himself. Anyways, sorry about the rude awakening. I asked about the security, but I wasn’t expecting a demonstration.”

Danny grumbled something before speaking up. “They’ll show anyone basically anything if they think there’s interest.”

“With how advanced some of this stuff is, I’m surprised they’re so lax about it.”

“Up until more recently, ghost hunting really wasn’t considered anything but quack science. Both of them are brilliant, but not being taken seriously for years has made them a bit enthusiastic about sharing information.” Jazz then turned to the coffee maker while Danny sat at the kitchen table and started nodding off again. “Let me make myself and Danny some coffee then we’ll take you on the tour.”

A few minutes later, coffee was made. Jason decided to tell a few harmless stories about his siblings, such as one of Dick’s disastrous attempts at using a chandelier as a trapeze, while Jazz and Danny slowly became more alert.

Things were going well until the Pit decided to, for lack of a better word, violently flare. It could feel the portal in the basement calling to it. While trying to hide it, the hand that had been keeping him steady while he leaned against the counter slipped causing him to stumble.

Danny was by his side in a moment, now wide awake. “Are you okay?” When he nodded, the kid added, “The Portal is pretty intense when it gets opened. You get used to it after a while. Is your hand okay?”

“What do you mean…?” He glanced at the hand that caused him to slip and found it had that strange washed out look from earlier. “Oh… That just started, and I think you’re the only person who might have an idea of what’s going on. But…” He nodded towards Jazz.

“Don’t worry, I know about Danny’s situation,” she explained as she moved towards a section of the wall and pressed an unassuming panel. A staircase appeared. “We’d probably move the conversation to the Ops Center though. We can at least get a few seconds of warning before someone bursts through the hatch with some sort of ecto-weapon.”

“I’m assuming that happened?”

“A lot. They’ve destroyed my bed a few times, attacked one of my teachers…” Danny frowned for a moment. “How many times was the mailman attacked before the post office started forcing them to come to the station to get it?”

“I think it was five.”

“How haven’t your parents been arrested?”

===================================

Notes: Firstly, I seriously can't find evidence of Jason using a grappling hook as an adult. I first noticed this in "Under the Red Hood", both the animated film and the comic. And after attempting to search for an instance myself and checking with other DC fans, it's apparently very rare to see him use one.

In the comic version of “Under the Red Hood”, Jason cut the back of his head to provide Bruce with a blood sample. In the movie, Bruce got it off of the sword of an assassin.

There is a wonderful panel of Jason fighting both Dick and Tim. One is being kneed in the groin and the other is being punched in the mouth. This was during what I affectionately call his bat shit crazy days.

I previously mentioned the two different variations of Jason's resurrection. Which version is canon can vary between DC reboots. And for some reason, my mind has decided that as an effect of that, some of the characters might have nightmares about alternative versions of bad experiences. In this case, it's Jason waking up in a coffin.

There is a fan comic I saw years ago which had Bruce occasionally doing normal businessman things to annoy the crap out of supervillains. The one I particularly remember is him putting a giant billboard of himself in front of Luthor’s penthouse view. I accept this occasional pettiness as a personal head canon.

One last note. Cass was killed by her mom and resurrected in a Lazarus Pit (I think this is still canon?), but she didn't have the so-called 'perfect' resurrection Jason did. As of right now, I don't think we have a proper explanation for why he did when others didn't. I'm going to make the assumption it either dealt with how he died or the length of time it took between death and the dip in the Pit.

#To Join the Whispers #Danny Phantom #DP #DP crossover #danny phantom crossover #Danny Fenton #dp au #This is still completely self-indulgent

[toastedside]

For Better and For Worse

Batmom!Reader x Batfamily

Warning: angst, fluff in the end

Note: The last chapter for the miniseries! It was fun writing this, and I know it's been too long since I actually posted the first chapter. But it was fun. Enjoy!

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

Batman landed on his foot silently. His eyes scanned through the warehouse, before him was a gigantic machine with empty compartment that would fit one person. He quickly typed on the small computer on his wrist, sighing silently to himself as he waited for his scanning result to come.

“Batman,” come Superman’s voice through the comm. “Are you in?”

“I’m in,” Batman confirmed. “There’s a machine inside. It looks like somebody deactivated it before we come. I’m trying to transfer their data into my computer to get some information.”

“So Red Robin and Superboy were right,” Superman said again. There was a slight quiet sound of the wind behind him. Batman assumed he was flying as he answered through the comm. “The warehouse is empty as well. I think they had abandoned it.”

“We can’t be really sure about that,” Batman’s let out a huff as his computer displayed the transfer data has been finished. “I’m going to decipher some codes. Keep an eye on possible threat.”

Batman grunted softly as he squatted down to take a better look of the main controller device. It looked unassuming and tame while it was deactivated, but one better look alone could tell him that it would be deadly. He typed an override code on the main controller, his lips pressed firmly together as the machine slowly coming back to life.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of movement that he had known too well. “I already told you to let the League take care of this.”

“Yeah, but it was me and Conner who found it,” Red Robin came into the light. He quickly approached the main controller and eyed it silently. “I have just successfully deciphered few codes that might help. If there’s anyone that could help, it would be me.”

Batman stared at him for a few moments. He weighed his options before let out a tired sigh. Figured there’s no way Red Robin would back out now. “Only to decipher the code. After that you leave the rest to the League.”

Red Robin nodded before he dove in right away into his work. Batman lingered for a few moments to watch, but as the machine starting to wake up more and more from its slumber, he left Red Robin with the controller device as he investigated. He studied the empty compartment silently, taking notes in how the machine was built.

“B, what did you type to activate the machine?” Red Robin called. There’s a slight confusion in his voice that robbed Batman’s attention.

“The code that have been transferred to my computer.”

“That’s not possible,” Red Robin whispered. Now he sounded so alarmingly surprised. “It’s different from what I decipher earlier. B, I think– I think there’s an error in this.”

Batman was about to open his mouth when the machine whirling dangerously. Red Robin quickly tried to type in an override code, but the more he tried, the more the machine whirling dangerously and begun to rattle. He lifted his eyes briefly and saw Batman tried to tame the machine, his shoulder pressed against the empty compartment as he grunted loudly. Suddenly, the whole room was too bright from him to see as a bright, white light coming from the core of the machine shone brightly. Red Robin called for Batman a few times before the machine whirled for the last time and exploded, sent Red Robin flying across the room and the machine crushed underneath the rubbles into oblivion.

=======================================

The footage cut off right away after the explosion, leaving you heaved for a sharp breath as the camera went blank. You could see the reflection of you own face on the screen, how horror seeped right through your skin and welled in your eyes. You were unaware with tears that streamed down your face until you saw your reflection. Behind you was your children, all wide eye from witnessing the footage.

“So that was the explanation for your dislocated shoulders months ago?” Dick asked, his tone was demanding and worried.

“Yeah. I am sorry I didn’t tell any of you sooner,” Tim said bashfully. Cass silently approached him and pulled him into a half-hug. Tim smiled in appreciation. “But did you see the light zapped from that machine briefly before it blows up?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think that light was what took Bruce away,” Tim said firmly. He had spent so many nights watching the footage over and over again, he practically could recite it in his sleep. “That would explain the lack evidence of his dead body. Besides, if you notice,” Tim pressed play on the footage again, and paused right few seconds before the explosion. “He was already gone when the machine blows up.”

“Are you trying to say that machine was a transfer device?” Damian asked, his eyes watched the paused footage before shifted into his brother.

“Could be. I tried to work with all sources that I have, but I can’t possibly decipher all the codes since the machine blow up before I could transfer everything,” Tim rolled his chair in front of the Batcomputer, his fingers swiftly typed few codes that he had known by heart. The monitor showed a half-finished string of codes. “See. It’s all half-baked. My strongest theory that I can come up with it was the machine use the same technology used for Zeta Beams. More or less.”

“So… B isn’t dead from the explosion, he was transferred into another place before the machine blows up?” Jason asked slowly.

“Another place, another timeline, or dimension.”

“Shit,” Dick cursed. His fingers ran through his hair as he stared into the footage again. “If you were right, then Bruce is trapped and possibly having no idea on how to go back.”

“Call the League,” you finally found your voice back. You were surprised you could muster a coherent sentence with a firm voice. “I know what you’re all thinking. But this is dangerous. Call the League.”

“We have all the sources we could possibly need!” Damian argued. “From what I know, they abandoned the warehouse. The machine could still be there. We just need to salvage some data and move in motion after that.”

“I know that all of you are more than capable, but I am your mother. I have my limit. I have lost my husband; I am not going to lose my children too.” The firmness on your voice left no room to argue. You stared into your children one by one to emphasize your argument. “This is their mission after all. You all will work side by side with them. And none of you will work without them. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, let’s go upstairs and eat some dinner. I’ll call Clark first thing in the morning, for now let’s just take some rest.” you ushered your children towards the staircase leading into the house.

Dinner was normal to say the least. But there was a growing tension that everyone had tried so hard not to talk about for their mother’s sake. You practically could see all of your children twitched in impatience and anticipation, all minds already long gone into a battle that still yet to happen.

“We’ll find him, Mom,” Dick said with a kiss on your temple at night before bed. You mustered your best reassuring smile, cradled your son in your arms. For the first time in a long time, you were scared for your children’s life.

Sleep seemingly unwilling to come that night. You spent the night tossed around relentlessly; mind wandered far into all possible scenarios that you could come up with. Was Bruce really out there, trapped in a place he didn’t belong? It had been three months without him, you didn’t want to get too hopeful. But a tiny part in your heart longed to be with him once more and wished to hold him in your arms again.

====================================

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again,” Diana beamed as soon as her eyes caught your presence. It made her smile, as you walked towards her and quickly accepted her invitation for a hug. “I miss our girl’s night.”

You chuckled at the mention of your sacred night. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called you sooner.”

“No, no. No apology. I understand what you’ve been through was hard and hurtful,” Diana was quick to squish your apology. “Besides, looks like somebody’s a little jealous that she isn’t invited into our small reunion.”

You followed Diana’s gaze, and a smile twitched at the corner of your lips at the sight of Dinah lurked in the corner. You laughed, gestured for her to come. Dinah came right away, a frown formed on her lips as she crashed you into a bone-crushing hug.

“My God, you have no idea how relieved and happy I am when you called!” Dinah breathed. She patted your back gently.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called sooner.”

“I am glad either way,” Dinah said as she released you from her hug, but her hand lingered on your wrist before she let out a sigh. “We are here for you, all of us. We always will. And we’ll find him.”

“I don’t want to be too hopeful,” you said sullenly. “But whatever happen, I hope it helps the League to find the trail of whoever responsible behind this.”

The League had been called first thing in the morning, and now you had all of the superhero cramped together inside your house. You watched from the back of the room the briefing that Tim gave to the League upon the lead and dots he had connected in past three months. Your heart sank into your stomach like a sandbag upon watching the footage again where your husband presumed died three months ago.

Alfred came few moments later with a tray full of refreshment. He decided to stay at the back of the room with you, watching all of your children had meeting with the League.

“Even though I have witnessed this thousand time over, it’s never getting any easier,” you sighed as you broke the silence. “It feels like I am sending my children into a suicide mission with no precaution. To save their father. We don’t know the threat that might wait for them out there.”

“We never could shelter our children forever even if we wanted to. They ought to spread their wings out there one way or another. It’s their thing after all, they would never sleep before they find the answer,” Alfred offered a consolidation. “The best we can do is to make it as safe as possible. You have done that.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

==================================

It had been three weeks since the last time you witnessed all of the Justice League member cramped together inside your house for a meeting. Your children had been sent on a mission alongside the League. You couldn’t say you like it, but you saw the childish excitement Damian tried so hard to hide from the thought of fighting alongside the League, and opted to at least look approving. You were proud nonetheless.

The house was a little empty without most of your children’s presence as they’re out for a mission. Spared for Damian who was constantly sent home to attend school. Alfred had helped you to take care of Wayne Enterprise in Tim’s absence as you tore yourself in half between your work in hospital and taking the lead for the company, but it was still manageable at least.

Damian would tell you about the mission progress all the time, which sadly wasn’t much. But they still had baby steps progress nonetheless, and progress is still a progress. They have managed to salvage some valuable parts from the machine, but it wasn’t much of a lead to give them answer.

You get off from your car after you gather some courage to walk into an empty house again. The day had been long and tedious, you had just chewed out marketing department this morning and had to tended some patients in the afternoon. All of your muscles are sore and you wanted nothing but a long hot bath.

The house was empty just as you suspected. But you found a surprise as you stepped into the study room to grab some book to read. The grandfather’s clock was opened ajar, meaning somebody must have went downstairs into the Batcave. It could be Alfred cleaning up, but you found herself going downstairs.

Your eyes widened as soon as the sound of murmured conversations come into your ears. You descended down further; head perked up at the familiar sound you had missed so much. “Guys!” you practically shouted as you ran towards your children. “Oh my God, you’re all here.”

It was Jason who caught you first and welcomed you into his embrace. Your other children soon followed and trapped you in the middle, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. All of your fatigue and stress suddenly lifted from your shoulders now that all of your children are home safe and sound.

“How was your mission? All good? Are you guys safe?” come the string of questions you couldn’t help but to ask. You quickly check all of your children for any obvious injury, and you found yourself let out a long, relieved breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“We are, Mama,” Jason gently placed his hands on your shoulder to ground you. “We figure we might come home for a little while. It’s been a long time after all.”

“Yeah. I miss your beef stew,” Tim chimed in. “Can we have it for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you said as you gently cradled Cass in your arms. Cass clung into you like a baby koala for dear life, her nose nuzzled into your collarbone seeking for comfort. It made your heart soared and dropped at the same time, knowing that she found comfort in your presence and the fact that she must’ve had deprived for comfort that she actively seeks for it.

All of you shared blissful moment together, all shared some jokes and recite few relaxed and funny moments happened during mission. You were glad nonetheless, with Cass laid her head on your lap, Damian pressed against your side, and all of your children are here laughing and reciting some stories, you couldn’t ask for a better way to end the day.

The Batcomputer suddenly beeped, alerted everyone that somebody is coming. Dick quickly rose from his seat and take a solemn look to the computer screen. “It’s Uncle Supes and Wonder Woman,” he announced, a little confused at their arrival.

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. Does it mean all of your children had to go for a mission again?

The door to the Batcave opened not so long after, revealed two hero came into the light. All of your children were already on their feet and geared up, ready to dive back into the battle once they’re needed. But a strange expression coming from Diana and Clark somehow told you that it was not a mission.

“Clark? Diana? Is everything alright?” you were concerned. You found yourself pulled Damian into your side and firmly held him, afraid of letting your son go once more.

“Y/N, you might want to sit down,” Clark gently said.

Diana gently took you into her arms and led you into the nearest chair. You were still a little puzzled, your heart racing against your chest. Diana then gently placed her hand on your shoulders, her eyes solemnly staring into yours with an unreadable expression. It frustrated you greatly.

“Diana, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Hold on for a little while. But I need you to sit down.”

“What–” you opened your mouth to protest, but was cut off abruptly at the sight appeared in front of you.

You blinked rapidly, afraid that it was some mind trick that you weren't aware about. You found yourself awestruck, unable to move, but at the same time unable to believe your own eyes. You heaved few heavy breaths that sounded like you were half laughing and half crying, your mouth went agape at the sight alone.

“Holy shit,” you could hear Jason cursed loudly. “Holy shit. It works.”

So it was real, then.

There he was. Your husband. The one and only Bruce Wayne. Completely alive albeit looked a little gruff and exhausted. He had some rough stubble all over his chin, and the usual light in his eyes had dimmed. You could only stare and stare, your mouth let out few incoherent noises that was only above whisper.

Bruce slowly approached you. As if he was afraid, but the corner of his eyes lifted up happily at the sight of you stared at him like a deer caught in the headlight. From this close distance, you could see his eyes glossed from tears that started to well in his eyes. You watched him kneeled in front of you.

“Honey,” Bruce said as he gently took your hand into his. “I am so sorry.”

“Bruce,” you let out a shaky breath, sounded as if you were strangled. Your unoccupied hand shakily covered your trembling lips, eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this… is this really you? Are you real?”

Bruce gently took your hand and placed it on his rough cheek. There was a growing eye bag underneath his eyes. He looked so much older and tired than the last time you had remembered him. “It’s me. It’s me. As real as I could be.”

There are few beats of silence before you let out a strangled cry. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb gently stroking his cheeks. The stubble on his chin felt rough underneath your skin, but you found yourself loving the way it felt. “Bruce Wayne, you little shit! You promised that we will die together when we’re grey and old in our nineties!”

Bruce let out a surprised chuckle. It was warm and familiar, and you had missed it so much. It had been way too long since the last time you heard his laughter. “Therefore, here I am. Coming back to you to fulfil my promise.”

You smiled shakily as you laughed through the tears that stubbornly streamed down you face. You leaned closer to rest your forehead against his. “Don’t pull that stunt on me again.”

“I promised you I will always come back to you. And I do.”

“What happened?”

“The machine that I investigated had sent me into far past. I was trapped there unable to come back home, but I managed to survive. Until I met Barry, he said that he able to finished and decipher all the code gathered and redesigned the machine to bring me back. And therefore, here I am,” Bruce explained. “The warehouse was a trap set up to harm me. But Tim managed to inserted some codes before it exploded, so it sent me into different time instead of kill me in explosion. We figure it was a part of Injustice League’s scheme.”

“All I could think about was you. I worried about you and the kids. Sometimes the only thing that could get me through the day was the thought of that one day I will finally able to come back home to you.” Bruce placed a tender kiss on your knuckles. “You have managed to save me over and over again. Thank you.”

You couldn’t muster up any single words, so instead, you threw yourself into his embrace. Soon all of her kids would join and trapped you in the middle. Although Jason acted as if he hated it, you knew that deep inside his heart he was relieved to have his father back. Dick didn’t even bother to hide his excitement; he was just happy his family was whole once more.

That night, for the first time in forever, the night didn’t feel long and tedious. Or torturous. But neither of you and Bruce could able to sleep in a wink, you and him just hold each other close and greedily craved for each other’s presence. No words exchanged between you and him, however. But you were relieved. You were reunited with your love once more, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#batman #bruce wayne #batman imagine #batmom #batmom imagine #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #batfam #batfam imagine #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #cassandra cain #orphan #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson imagine #jason todd imagine #tim drake imagine #cassandra cain imagine #damian wayne imagine #fluff #angst #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader

[wordsablaze]

One Down

day twenty four, where jason is fast but not fast enough to reach dick before his time runs out...

A/N: tw mcd !! whumptober prompt: revenge

-

Dick has no idea why he’s here.

Here not referring to his philosophical existence in general but rather the room he wakes up in.

The room makes no sense at first. The walls are made of concrete so Dick knows he’s not in a hotel or anything like that, but it’s pitch black and there aren’t any windows so he can’t be in a warehouse, which means this isn’t just another routine kidnapping and he can't predict his location.

“Assess your surroundings,” Dick tells himself as he stands up.

He makes his way around all four walls of the room in next to no time, finding absolutely nothing of interest. It’s not only empty but also strangely small, which means that Dick is back to being confused before he’s even entirely alert. Except he’s not here as Dick Grayson because he’s wearing his Nightwing suit and his domino mask is still in place.

“It could be worse,” he says absent-mindedly.

Just to be sure he hasn’t missed anything, he walks all the way around the room again. He searches every single inch of the wall he can reach - though the room is far taller than him, judging by the way his voice echoes - but once again finds nothing, ending up back where he assumes he’d started with no luck.

And because he’d tempted fate, something starts ticking.

He freezes, hoping the noise isn’t what he thinks it is. But no, the unfortunately familiar steady ticking continues and all it takes is one glance at the ceiling to confirm his suspicions: it’s a countdown.

“Okay so it could be better,” he mumbles.

It’s a countdown, and not a very long one at that. He’s not sure why there’d been such a delay between him waking up and the countdown starting but there’s no point wasting his energy thinking about something so pointless. The only problem is, he doesn’t have anything else to think about.

He nearly laughs at the irony of it all, at the fact that his life is being threatened by a countdown for the second time, as if destiny had decided it wasn’t fair he got off lucky the first time. It’s unlikely he’ll get off lucky this time and maybe it’s just his terrible coping mechanisms talking but for some reason, he thinks it’s funny that this is the one thing he can undoubtedly one-up Jason with.

“Nightwing?”

“Red Hood?” he asks, frowning.

Jason curses quietly from wherever it is his voice is coming from before humming in acknowledgment. “Yeah, it’s me. Do you know where you are?”

Dick’s stomach twists. There’s something in Jason’s voice that doesn’t sound good, something cold and sharp and ugly that might be a fear Red Hood isn’t meant to feel, and it doesn’t bode well.

“No,” he replies simply.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Jason asks.

Just barely resisting the urge to ask what Jason is so worried about, Dick shrugs. “I was, uh, patrolling. It was a quiet night? I don’t know how I got here, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

The knot in Dick’s stomach only tightens and he curls his hands into fists. “And how would you know that?”

There’s a moment of silence, presumably Jason realising that his unusually quick reassurance hadn’t been as casual as it was meant to be, before another soft curse. “Because it’s my fault.”

Dick frowns. “Your fault? How can this possibly be your fault, Hood? I’m the one who got myself kidnapped again.”

Just when he thinks Jason might not reply at all, he sighs loudly. “You’re in a private storage facility in Bludhaven.”

Huh. That makes sense, actually. It explains why the room is so empty and why there are no windows or anything. What doesn’t make sense is how Jason knows that, especially since he’s meant to be back in Gotham to help Tim with something or the other for the weekend.

“What am I meant to be counting down to?” he asks instead of dwelling on that, unable to take his eyes off the bright red numbers above him.

Jason lets out a wounded noise, and that’s all the explanation Dick needs. Knowing that appearing worried would only make things worse, he swallows his dread and clears his throat. “How far away are you?”

“Twenty minutes,” Jason replies promptly.

Oh.

Dick closes his eyes.

The neon 10:00 flashes weakly behind his eyelids.

“-wing? Nightwing, answer me!”

Flinching from the anger in Jason’s voice, Dick forces himself back into the present. “Sorry, I- I tripped over my own feet. There’s not much light in here.”

It’s a poor excuse and they both know it. Still, Jason doesn’t call him out. “I think I can be there in fifteen, maybe less. How much time do you have?”

Dick doesn’t have the heart to tell him where the countdown has reached. He doesn’t think Jason will make it in time no matter how many red lights he ignores and he doesn’t want what may be his last conversation with his brother to be a frantic race.

08:03

“I don’t know,” he lies, “I can’t see the timer, I can only hear it ticking.”

Jason sighs in what might be relief or might be annoyance. Dick doesn’t comment on it, instead letting himself slide to the floor and resting his head on the wall behind him so he can keep an eye on the countdown.

“I’m sorry I ruined your bonding session,” he says eventually.

“It was not a bonding session, we had a case!” Jason scoffs.

06:58

“Whatever you say,” Dick teases, a small smile playing at his lips despite everything else.

Two blaring horns sound before Jason swears up a mini storm, muttering something about people being inconsiderate. Dick laughs. “It’s hardly their fault you’re speeding.”

“Shut up.”

He might just, unless Jason’s bike has recently been given some sort of upgrade he doesn’t know about. But he can’t say anything along those lines because he’s meant to be acting as though he doesn’t know how long he has left.

“You wish,” he retorts.

05:24

“You’re insufferable,” Jason says, and for the first time, Dick wonders why they’ve been allowed to talk to each other at all, which brings him back to something that had bothered him earlier.

“You said this was your fault?” he asks. Jason is quiet for a moment before he grunts his agreement, and Dick sighs because it’s not hard to fill in the gaps. “Am I being used as revenge?”

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers.

04:19

“Please don’t be,” Dick says forcefully. “I don’t blame you, and I don’t want you to blame yourself either.”

He thinks Jason might have guessed something is wrong because he can hear an engine revving but if this is the end for him, he’s not going to go out as nothing but a guilt complex for his brother.

“I love you,” he adds, “and you have absolutely nothing to apologise for.”

02:57

“I- I love you too,” Jason replies, his voice thick and choked.

Dick’s chin wobbles but he bites his lip until he knows he won’t just cry if he opens his mouth. “I’m so proud of you for figuring out where I am.”

“Stop it,” Jason mutters.

“And I- I’m lucky to have you looking out for me,” Dick continues.

“Stop talking like that!”

“Hey, did I ever tell you how cool the helmet looks?”

Jason yells in frustration as a car alarm goes off in the background. “I’m not far, please- please stop doing this.”

01:42

“I’m just filling the silence, Hood,” Dick says, almost surprised at how steady his voice sounds. “Not all of us are cruising around with the wind rushing past our ears.”

Oh, how he wishes he was.

“I’m almost there,” Jason tells him, and it’s unclear whether he’s making a declaration or pleading for something.

01:00

“I have faith in you,” Dick replies, and it’s not even a lie.

“Nightwing…”

00:50

“Eyes on the road, it gets more complicated when you get closer to Bludhaven,” Dick says, even though he doesn’t think Jason is anywhere near close enough.

“It’s not like I’ve never been before!” Jason snaps.

Dick chuckles.

00:40

“What? I don’t want you complaining that I didn’t warn you if you crash, do I?”

He can imagine Jason rolling his eyes, but it’s far from reassuring because he wants to see him roll his eyes in person, with them both safe and sound and doing something stupid that leads to Alfred giving them a lecture.

00:30

“I’m not going to crash,” Jason scoffs, sounding offended.

Dick hums. “Right, right, I forgot you’re too cool for that.”

00:20

“Obviously,” Jason confirms, then curses again. “Your city’s still a mess, by the way.”

It’s almost worse that he got to Bludhaven in record time. Dick bites his tongue to stifle a sob because he doesn’t even want to imagine how bad Jason is going to feel when he realises just how close he was.

00:10

“Don’t be rude,” he chides half-heartedly.

00:09

“Whatever,” Jason mumbles, “just hang on a little longer ‘til I find the right place.”

00:08

He doesn’t have a little longer.

00:07

“Thank you for trying,” Dick whispers.

00:06

“Wait, what?”

00:05

“This isn’t your fault, little wing.”

00:04

“No, no, don’t do that, I’m right here.”

00:03

But he’s not, and there’s no way he can be, and time is running out.

00:02

“I love you so much.”

00:01

“NIGHTWING!”

00:00

Dick blinks, the action forever incomplete.

-

* laughs nervously *

-

thanks for reading !! masterlist | dc sideblog: @batfamvibes

#whumptober2021 #no.24 #revenge #dc #batman #fanfiction #mcd tw #main character death tw #dick grayson #jason todd #whump #angst #hurt no comfort #batfamily #my writing #nightwhump #no beta we die like my faves when i have a weird day #(sorry dick)

[toosicktoocare]

Jason knows the second he’s pulled from sleep by a low vibration close to his head that today’s going to go down in the books as, to put it simply, a bad day. There’s a dull sense of pressure in his head, pushing lightly against the base of his skull, and his phone buzzing insistently beside his head is only heightning his overall awareness that he’s got one hell of a mirgaine trying to grow against his brain. 

He slaps his hand around blindly for his phone, squeezing his eyes shut against the drum of pressure as he clumsily presses answer on his phone with a groan. 

“Look, Dick Brain, I’ve already told you that I’m not teaming up with you lot of dumb birds tonight. I have my own shit, so you you all need to keep your shit to yourselves.” 

“Master Jason?”

Jason isn’t prepared for the polite accent on the other line, one that’s distinctly laced with an air of disappointment. He shoots up in bed, his free hand flying to push against the alarming wave of pressure that’s blooming across is forehead. “Shit, Alfred. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.” 

“I assumed as much. Did I wake you?”

Jason clears his throat to rid the lingering dryness from sleep that’s coating his throat. He blinks slowly at the digital clock on his bedside table until his mind finally makes sense of the numbers and orders: 10:22 AM. 

He contemplates lying for a breath of a moment only to chase the thought away with a shake of the head. Alfred will know; he always does. 

“Yeah,” he laughs quietly. “Guess I slept in a little.” 

“Are you quite alright, Master Jason? It’s unlike you to sleep past 7 AM.” 

Jason mentally supplies the words that go unsaid: ‘because of your nightmares.’ Sighing, he digs his fingers into his forehead, massaging around the blossoming pressure. “Yeah, just a headache.” 

“Not one of your migraines, I hope.”

“Nah,” Jason tries for an airy attitude, one void of any concern, and to his legitimate surprise, Alfred seems to accept his answer, though hesitantly. 

“If you’re absolutely sure...”

Deflect, Jason supplies to himself. “I assume Dick’s got you calling to do his dirty work?”

“Not quite. Master Bruce asked me to call when Dick informed him that you’ve been dodging his calls all week.”

“That’s new,” Jason mutters, swinging his legs over the bed and sliding to his feet. The sudden change in weight distribution elevates the pressure in his head. He swallows back a gasp, free hand finding the wall for support as he shuffles from his bedroom to his bathroom in search for pain killers. “What’s so important about tonight? Sounds like a standard drug bust that Dick can more than handle on his own.” 

“Master Bruce would feel better if all of his sons were present tonight.” 

Jason doesn’t understand Bruce’s mind, his logic and reasoning for his choices. He never has, and he gathers that he never will. He snags a bottle of pain killers and balances his phone between his ear and shoulder, ignoring to sudden shift of pain in his head. 

“I have my own patrol, Alfred.” 

“We’ll have all patrols covered, Master Jason. Your territory will be well looked after tonight.” 

Damn, Jason thinks. If there’s one thing Alfred is good at, it’s his verbal reassurance, something so frighteningly powerful. He dry swallows a few pills and drops against the edge of his tub with a sigh, fingers raking through his hair. 

“Fine. Will you send me the details?” He drags out each word slowly, making sure that Alfred knows he’s only agreeing because it’s Alfred asking. 

“Of course.”

***

Jason’s head feels far too heavy on his neck, the added pressure weighing it down. The pain killers chased off the edge of the migraine for a few hours, but per usual, the pain came back stronger as the pills wore off, and he’s opted not to take more, not wishing to risk being slightly sluggish. 

He walks up to see Dick, Tim, and Damian occupying a small corner down an alleyway, their odd meetup point. Tim’s seated, his back against a wall, and he’s yawning. Dick’s stood with his back against a wall across from Tim, his arms crossed, as he muffles a few light coughs into his fist. And, Damian’s standing closer to Dick with his right arm cradled close to his chest. 

Tension trickles down to Jason’s limbs, and he grips his helmet a little tighter in his hand as he approaches. “The fuck’s wrong with you all?” His own voice is a drill in his head, piercing through the pressure and re-distributing it unevenly.

It’s Tim who opts to speak around a second yawn. 

“Dick’s still recovering from the flu, and the Demon Brat hurt his wrist on patrol yesterday.” 

“My wrist is fine, Drake,” Damian spits out, drawing out words deliberately.

“I assume you haven’t slept,” Jason mutters, nodding toward Tim, who’s slow to get to his feet. 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Dick cuts in sharply, and Jason arches a single brow to the oldest, faintly curious. “You need sleep, Tim, or you’ll wind up sick.” 

“Funny since you’re the one who’s running a low grade fever.” 

“Grayson is competent, Drake, even while recovering from illness. He’s not so easily taken down by the flu.” 

“And what are you planning on doing tonight, Damian,” Tim drags out lowly, and Jason shifts his faint curiosity from one idiot to the other. 

“You can barely move your wrist.” 

“I’ve been trained to be ambidextrous, Drake-”

“-Okay,” Jason calls out, the curiosity from before replaced with dull, familair annoyance that’s now mixed in with a hot pain swirling in his skull. “Let’s just get this the fuck over with, yeah?” He looks to Dick, a silent question to take charge, and Dick nods and turns on his heel, leading everyone to the hinted base for the drug ring. 

“Father would tell you to watch your language,” Damian mutters at Jason’s side before he quickens his step to match Dick’s steady pace. 

Jason flips him off and shoves his helmet over his head, swallowing back a groan when the added weight pushes the pressure in different directions. Nausea starts to tumble in his stomach, and he tries his best to steady his breathing, pushing his concentration away from himself. 

“So, Timmy, what are the deets? Alfred didn’t say much.”

***

Turns out, Bruce’s hunch was correct, and all four were forced to hold their own against multiple, burly men, all of which got in numerous, painful hits before being taken down. The fight ended at the top of an apartment building across the street from the warehouse that was doubling as the drug storage, and Jason’s not sure he’s ever felt this much pain in his head, knowing that it didn’t help he let a few men get some solid hits to his face and temples. 

The others appear to be, more or less, in similar conditions. Dick’s down on one knee, panting heavily. Damian’s paler than usual, and he’s got his wrist held tightly to his chest, and Tim’s swaying on his feet, looking about ready to drop any second. 

Jason pulls a slow gaze around them, swallowing thickly around the bursting pressure that’s pushing hard against every inch of his skull now, swelling against his brain, leaving his vision fraying at the edges. He’s faintly aware that the others are talking amongst each other, but he can’t keep up with the conversation, not with the sudden roar in his ears that drowns out the voices around him. 

The pain’s... intense. It’s all he’s able to supply, most thoughts breaking against the pressure. He takes a step back, fingers clumsily slipping under his helmet. His vision is graying now, blurring, and he tries to blink around it. He can see Dick get to his feet, see the older boy frowning at him. He’s saying something to him, but Jason can’t work his mind around reading lips. No, all he wants is to get the damn helmet off his head, but his hands are shaking too hard to be of any use. 

He starts to feel hot all over despite the crisp fall air. He takes another, staggering step back, his legs struggling to hold his balance, to support the weight of his abdomen and head, and the back of his foot knocks hard into something. He only realizes that he’s bumped into the edge of the roof when he’s falling backward into open, empty space. 

His stomach plummets in time with his body, bringing back his vision, sounds, his surroundings. 

“Jason!”

He pulls his gaze from the tilting sky to see the others coming into view, and he wonders, briefly, if it’s the last thing he’ll ever see, but the thought gets josteled from his head when something small yet strong latches onto his ankle, followed by a loud, gasping cry. 

His back slams against the side of the apartment building, bringing with it bursting, white hot pain across his head, but he manages to stay present, craning his neck up to see Damian crying and holding onto his ankle with his injured hand. Dick stumbles toward them, wrapping one arm tightly around Damin to keep him up on the roof. 

“Jason! Do you think you can lean upward?”

Nodding, Jason breathes deeply around the pain and nausea, and he swings himself upward, arms flying forward until he’s grasping at the hands reaching out to him. Dick and Tim pull him up, and the second he’s upright, his vision grays until he blacks out entirely. 

***

“Come on, Jay, open your eyes for me.” 

Jason wants to be annoyed that the voice is waking him, but there’s something so soft and desperate in the tone, in the gentle touches at his face, so he decides to try and chase it. 

“Bruce is on his way.” 

That brings Jason back all at once, his mind reeling against pain, and nausea twisting so hard in his stomach. He leans to the side and vomits, mutely thankful that someone removed his helmet. 

“Shit, Jason!” 

He can feel a hand at his back, rubbing small circles, and when his stomach settles, he flops back onto his back with a groan, only faintly aware that his head is pillowed on Dick’s thigh. 

“Jay? You with us?” 

“Bruce says he’s two minutes out. He wants to know if we can make it off the roof.” 

Jason realizes slowly that there’s a voice missing, and then memories flood agaisnt the pressure in his head until he’s jerking forward to see Damian sitting across from his, tear trackes evident against his cheeks. 

“Fuck, Damian, your wrist-”

“It’s okay.” Damain’s voice is shaking, and Jason leans forward to pat Damian’s knee, unsure of what else he could do or say to properly express the heavy weight of appreciation for Damian saving his life. 

“Jason, what happened? Are you sick?” Dick’s voice is laced deep with worry at Jason’s back, two hands planted firmly to Jason’s shoulders.

Before Jason can answer, Bruce is swinging himself over the ledge of the roof, fully suited, dark eyes shifting between each son, falling on Jason. 

“Migraine,” he answers deeply for Jason. “Alfred suspected as much.” Bruce stops before him. “Can you walk?” 

Jason nods and allows Bruce to pull him to his feet. He sways for a moment, swallows back the need to dry heave, and grounds himself, faintly aware that Bruce’s hand is just inches from his elbow. He doesn’t meet Bruce’s studying gaze, doesn’t fully breathe until Bruce breaks away to assess the others. 

He watches, exhausted, as Damian argues with Bruce that he doesn’t need to be carried. He frowns when Tim stumbles into Dick, and Dick crouches down and instructs Tim to climb atop his back. He follows behind the others, listening in briefly to hear Tim grumble how Dick’s fever feels like it’s spiking, or how Bruce’s is tugging Damian tightly to his side and muttering reassurances under his breath. 

When they reach the ground floor, his knees begin to shake, but then Alfred’s at his side, worried, arm tight around his shoulders, and he’s guided into one of Bruce’s many cars, squeezing in the back beside the others. Tim’s directly to his left, and he drops his head to Jason’s shoulder almost immediately. Jason nudges him forward just enough to slip his arm around his back, and Tim curls closer into him. 

Jason decides that just for tonight, he’ll let him. He cranes his neck to see Damian similarly clinging to Dick, and he locks eyes with Dick, the two sharing a mutual, tired nod. 

Dragging his gaze slowly forward, Jason squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on the lull of the engine and not on the drum pounding in his head. 

“Shall I drop Master Jason off at his apartment?” 

“No, I want all of my sons at the manor tonight.” 

#batfam #batman #batbros #sickfic #whump #whumpfic #dcu #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #red hood #nightwing #red robin #robin #hurt/comfort #hi dysfunctional family

[jwritesandrambles]

“Supposed to Be”

Hi there! Yeah I still barely use tumblr but hey lookit I did the wrote thing down!!!!

I would like to give a bit thank you to @schweeeppess and @dragonsworn05 for editing my messy dyslexic rambles. @noroomforcream and @just-a-little-in-over-my-head  did some really cool art for this! 

(if I missed tagging someone, it’s not personal I appreciate you so much, I’m just posting in a rush mwauh)

Jason was back in Gotham. For the second time since he died, actually.

The last time hadn’t gone well. Technically, it had gone according to plan--for the most part--but Jason was still shambling together the broken pieces of his mind. Back then in December, all that was left of Jason were the shards of hurt and anger. He had been living for nothing but the idea of someone else’s death. Coming back to the real world, away from the sheltered and hidden places of the League of Shadows and the All-Caste, seemed to bring a bit of him back. Seeing Bruce, talking to him…everything that went down, and the reminder that he cared about him--loved him, even--it woke something up in Jason. Something that he thought had died along with him and never came back. 

He had spent a year by himself, taking any mercenary jobs he could get, trying to find something other than the all consuming anger that had fuelled him for the past few years, but his travels didn’t matter now, as he stood in a back alley of Gotham, the protective red helmet tucked under his arm. He wished his replacement, Tim Drake, hadn’t chosen this particular alley to meet up in. 

The balcony and rickety old fire escape were unforgettable to Jason. It was where he had met the Bat, after trying to jack the tires off one of those many damn expensive cars that Bruce had. Not only where it began, but where he once thought it would end. It was only a year ago he had stood, gun trained on Bruce, the man he had, for a time, called father. His voice shook and tears rolled down his cheeks, “it would be so easy to kill you.”

Jason was ripped from his reminiscing as a soft thud signaled that Red Robin had landed behind him. Jason flinched more than he’d like to admit, but fought the urge to draw his weapon. Quick reflexes was a nice way of saying jumpy. 

“Hood,” The teen greeted. 

“Replacement,” Jason said with a nod, echoing Tim’s tone back at him, relaxing. 

“Weren’t you a replacement too?” Tim pointed out, seeming to take no offence. 

Jason shrugged, “True. I’m not denying it. Just as long as you know that’s probably what B expects. Another Grayson,” he mumbled. 

Sure, he was less angry than before, but that didn’t mean Jason wasn’t a bitter son of a bitch. 

Tim bit the inside of his lip, an awkward and slightly uncomfortable look on the visible part of his face. It flickered away and was replaced with a more professional, neutral expression as he cleared his throat. 

“Yes... well... We’re here for a job so let’s focus. You got all the information B sent you?” He was honestly trying his best, but he was hesitant about this mission. Could anyone blame him? Jason Todd had proven himself to be... volatile. The memories of Jason’s violence were all too fresh in Tim’s mind. 

“Yeah, I got it. I read the file over,” he mumbled. He puffed out a weak breath, “Scarecrow set up a chemical mixing shop by the docks, at least one shipment has come in, but we can expect more, right? Anything I missed?” Jason asked, rummaging through his coat pockets. 

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He had been trying to quit, but he didn’t want to be getting distracted with cravings while trying to focus on the mission. 

Tim watched him quietly as he lit off, smelling the tobacco from up on his perch. 

“Um... yes, that’s all,”  the teen dragged his teeth along the edge of his lip. The skin felt slightly raw and sore from his empty minded nibbling. 

Jason started walking off down the alley, leaving a slight trail of lingering smoke in damp air. Tim followed. 

“So,” Jason pulled the cigarette from his lips, careful not to let his helmet slip from under his arm. He held it between his first and second fingers, “Uh.. Why’d you have us meet here instead of anywhere closer to the docks?” He asked, trying to break the awkwardly growing silence.

“Scarecrow has patrols circulating around the docks. We’re less likely to be spotted if we’re not waiting around there to meet up,” Tim explains with a little shrug.

Jason hummed a brief note of understanding, “Oh yeah, that makes sense. I’m, uh, I haven’t worked with anyone in... years,” Jason paused, taking another drag from the smouldering cigarette, “Y’know, really nothing team oriented since working with B. Even then I was a shitty teammate,” he laughed hollowly.

Tim nodded, thinking about what Jason’d just said. Had it really been that long? Maybe… maybe the fact that Jason was even admitting to being a bad teammate didn’t bode well. It could mean trouble for them later. If it was so obvious that even Jason could admit it, perhaps Tim shouldn’t have done this team-up. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim ran to catch up to Jason quickly, “Wait... how old are you?” He asked upon reaching him. 

“I’m t- uh... hold on, well... how long was I gone?” He asked Tim in return. 

“You were thought to be dead for five years,” Tim told him, in a tone like he was reciting a Wikipedia page written about the formally deceased, wayward Wayne boy. Now that Jason thought of it, he was certain Bruce had a file written up on him now. Bruce had written up for every major criminal in Gotham city. 

Jason let out a low whistle and soft huff, “I must be… twenty one now? Weird.”

“So... you didn't know how old you were till now?” Tim raised a brow, causing the mask to shift.

“Yeaahh,” Jason drew the word out sarcastically, pretending to took him deep thought to reconcile. “Somethin’ about the severe head trauma, dying, comin’ back, and being isolated from the normal world for years, all while being a wreck the whole time seems to have made my memory a lil’ fuzzy,” Jason said with a wry, sarcastic smile.

Tim seethed silently, letting out a series of apologetic mumbles, eyes dropping to ground ahead of him- it was a tactless and rude thing to ask, and Tim should’ve known that! 

Jason laughed weakly, hand quickly coming up towards him and... ruffled Tim’s hair? The boy hadn’t even had a chance to recoil. He was just confused; that was the last thing he’d expect from Jason.

The man stubbed out his cigarette and lumbered on ahead of Tim, dropping it in the trash, “Don’t worry about it, kid. I was just being a bitch, you’re fine.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. A man who tried to kill him only a year ago had just ruffled his hair?! He decided not to comment on it, because-- after all--what the hell could he even say?

Tim cleared his throat again, “We should get into position, we’re almost there. Maybe get your, uh, helmet-thingy on?” He suggested. 

Jason glanced at the helmet- he’d almost forgotten he had it tucked under his arm. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jason said, lifting his helmet and plunking it on his head, “good reminder, Timbers.” His voice became modulated the second the helmet covered his head. His low, gravely, smokers growl of a voice, was nowhere near and deep and gravely as Bruce’s--but sounded like it took a step closer with every box of cigarettes--became a pitch lower still. An odd robotic twang edged his words, giving him a metallic, cyber sound.

Tim adjusted his own mask, making sure it was firmly in place before nodding to Jason. The two silently started up again, approaching a warehouse that was supposed to be locked until the next morning’s shipment. “Supposed to be” being the operative words. Instead, there was muted huffing and shuffling as two of Scarecrow’s workers uncomfortably hauled a large crate into the building.

Both Jason and Tim seemed to shrink into the shadows at the same instant; each becoming one with the wall. Jason drew his weapon quietly, earning a disapproving frown from Tim. “I’m not gonna kill them. Chill,” Jason whispered in that odd robotic voice. 

Tim seemed satisfied enough to quit pouting at Jason. They crept closer, making little dashes between hiding spots when the coast was clear.

Jason let out a breath of curse as his eyes fell about the giant, glass, canister. It was filled with a bubbling, sickly, arsenic green substance.

“No way, that shit is all fear toxin? Fuck! He’s got enough to blast the entire downtown!” His voice came through in a synthesized hiss.

“Worse.” Tim whispered, spying the large pressurizer on top of the glass container. “That’s just the liquid form. When he releases it, it’ll be gaseous. If it’s released from the container from a high vantage point, a small breeze could cover the entire city in minutes.”

The severity of the situation washed over what little of Tim’s features were visible from beneath the mask. 

This wasn’t just a quick little in and out operation anymore. One wrong move and there could have a small, yet very messy, catastrophic outcome.

Tim had to plan this carefully, because there was no way they could afford to mess this up.

He turned to Jason...or, rather, where Jason had just been seconds before. 

Jason had evidently had a similar train of thought to Tim’s. He’d realized this was a serious situation, though, instead of drawing the conclusion to re-evaluate, re-plan, and carry on with caution, or something sensible-- he seemingly forgot any sense of subtlety he had. Oh, God forbid carefully thinking his actions out, like any sane rational person would do. Or calling for backup, like anyone with a vague semblance of self-preservation.  No no, instead, Jason had decided it was best to act now and not waste a second with plans or any ideas of safety. He jumped into action.

Jason was already leaping over the crate the two vigilantes had been hiding behind seconds ago, as Tim let out a quiet imploring hiss of “Wait--oh no-”“ but it was too late.

Jason already had his gun drawn. 

“Scarecrow!” he yelled, “this ends now!” He fired at the box the two workers were carrying, sending it out of their hands and clattering to the floor. A series of shattering followed the initial crash as the contents shattered. Whatever chemicals that had been inside hissed loudly, a faint smoke rising from between the boards of the wooden box.

“Hood!?” The Scarecrow rounded to face who he knew as the ex-criminal, ‘The Red Hood.’

“In the flesh.” Jason kept his gun trained on Scarecrow, while a third worker who had been off to the side started to shuffle his way towards him.

“Thought you moved your little operation away from Gotham when the Bats got the better of you,” Scarecrow commented, not seeming pleased about the interruption at all. 

Scarecrow’s worker lunged at Jason. Tim kicked himself mentally and left hiding, kicking the worker --physically, not mentally this time-- back away from Jason. The third worker scuttled back, apparently deciding this altercation was above his pay grade.

Jason felt something he hadn’t really felt in a long time; it was a feeling akin to camaraderie. He had someone watching his back for once. If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, he might have even cracked a smile. Or, rather, he might have felt a slight tug at the corner of his lips, at least.

“Well, yeah, the bats did get the best of me. Now I’m tryna give them my best. And that involves bootin’ your sorry ass out of here.”

“Quick witted, aren’t you?” Scarecrow tensed slightly. His eyes darted away from behind his mask for a moment. He was glancing to the side. Tim followed his gaze over to the-

Shit! The canister! If the bullet missed Scarecrow it would-

Tim knew what scarecrow was thinking, but it was too late.

“NO!” Tim shouted, helplessly watching as Scarecrow dove.

As expected, Jason pulled the trigger reflexively, but the Scarecrow had already ducked. The bullet made a resounding bang as it fired, hitting the large gas canister. 

Tim seized up, every nerve buzzing, every muscle tensed, every fibre of his being filled with an awful sinking sensation. The room was deadly-still. It was like something written by the hand of a fool-hardy novelist, who was paid far too much for over-the-top paperbacks; The bullet had embedded itself in the glass, acting like a stopper. A sickening series of cracks emanated from the canisters, as a thin spidery web formed across the glass. All tendrils originating from where the bullet hit.

Jason let out a low whistle, “Well. That coulda been disastrous.”

Tim couldn’t help but feel relieved, a stressed laugh escaping his lips. 

Scarecrow was scampering away, his workers already having pulled a quick disappearing act themselves, because, this wasn’t what he’d planned. 

“Don’t even think about it, Crane,” Jason said as he turned, taking a heavy step.

Said heavy step was apparently too much. The glass gave a shuttering groan, followed by a small hiss as gas began to leak.

Tim made an involuntary distressed sound. Something akin to an exhausted sigh mixed with a whimper. 

The one word that ever so eloquently graced Jason’s lips was, “Fuck.”

And the canister...

Burst.

The pressure placed on the glass had built up and could no longer hold.

Jason’s final step had been the breaking point, the spider work of cracks along the glass giving way with a great shatter.

Shards of the canister flung themselves across the room. The liquid that had been held within instantly began vaporizing into a thick, sickening gas. To anyone that had the misfortune of inhaling it, it felt as though the gas was trying --with every atom of its existence-- to choke the life out of its victim. It reached into their lungs, clawed at their insides, grabbing at their desperately beating hearts, and squeezed. It forced their brain to fill their body with adrenaline and hallucinogens. Tim knew this. 

He’d studied the Scarecrow’s fear toxin many times. He’d been exposed to it before, too. Tim knew this fear and knew he was helpless to do anything about it.

Tim was helpless to stop this. He had failed. He’d failed Bruce. He’d failed this mission. Because he was weak. He was weak, helpless, hopeless, a failure, a burden, unwanted. He was nothing more than a replaceable replacement. No one would care if he was gone, God, it’s not like anyone would ever notice! He was a forgettable nothing. Tim coughed and wheezed. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

Tim staggered. He tripped over his feet trying to get away from the intense fear that gripped his throat. Tim realized something physical was gripping his neck. The thing dragged him back roughly, towards what he could only assume was something horrid. Tim clawed at the thing gripping his throat. As he gasped for shuddering breath, he couldn’t help but begin to sob. He was going to die. He would die and no one would care. No one would even try to find him when he didn’t come home, they wouldn’t even notice because he was worthless, replaceable, weak, failure, helpless!

A new level of fear washed over Tim as he felt something cover his face, it encased his head. Tim could feel it squeeze his skull, he swore the pressure felt tight enough to crush his cranium like a tin can. It was claustrophobic. He felt his own shallow breath bounce back against his lips, because it had nowhere else to go. He was trapped and suffocating.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t BREATHE! OH--oh, oh no... no? Wait a moment... he COULD breathe.

Tim took a moment to try to get his bearings. He needed to remember how his lungs worked. He awkwardly sucked in a breath of filtered, recycled air. It tasted tinny on his tongue. Tim blinked the tears from his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, and he became aware of the taste of salt too. There was the faint scent of stale tobacco and smoke. His mind was reeling as he processed each detail. He dragged tongue over his lips nervously, and began to chew at his bottom lip. Tim’s heart was still pounding and his hands were shaking. He raised his hands to feel his head, glancing at his twitching fingers as they passed in front of his face, confusedly. Everything had a red tinge to it. He pressed his hands to his head, feeling a hard smooth surface.

Tim’s brain felt slow and groggy, taking a moment to clue into what was on his head. Was it Jason’s helmet? Yes, yes it was Jason’s helmet, that was certain, but where was Jason? 

The thick gas still hung in a green fog, but the helmet seemed to be filtering the worst of it out. Tim swept his arm though the air, watching the gas clear slightly, before swooping in to fill the gaps. Tim knew he needed to thin this stuff out if he wanted to have any hope in finding Jason before tripping over him. He rushed through the room, feeling his way over to the door. Scarecrow’s men had closed it, containing them --and more importantly the gas--  inside. Small mercy the fear toxin wasn’t being released on the city though. 

Tim dragged his fingers along the wall. His senses were so heightened that it was almost overstimulating. It was likely due to the toxin, Tim guessed. He could still feel the rough brick as he scraped along, even through the tips of his gloves. It was oddly reassuring. A steady constant he could focus on until -thunk-  His hand bumped into a smooth metallic protrusion from the wall. Exactly what Tim had been looking for. 

“Bingo.”

Tim swept his other arm through the air again, doing his best to fan the gass away for him to get a bit of a better view of what he was hoping to see. A metal switch box, old and slightly rusted around the edges. Tim had been counting on any wearhouse by the docks having a ventilation system to keep the products safe from humidity. Of course, he was right. With some difficulty, Tim wrenched the switch box open. After straining to read faded, dusty labels through the gas in the air, he flipped what he hoped was the right switch.

There was a small whine of aching metal that hadn’t moved in a long time and Tim cracked into a grin underneath the helmet. 

He’d done it!

The fans kicked into a regular pace. The smooth ‘whoomp whoomp whoomp’ of turning blades filled Tim with a sense of muted triumph. The foggy haze of fear gas began to thin as the building began to filter it out, mixing it with the humid air. Tim figured it would be condensed and drip out to puddle with the dirty water in the alley behind the warehouse. If Tim was right, which he usually was, it wouldn’t harm anyone unless they decided to drink from the puddle water. Which was unlikely, but not impossible. It was Gotham after all.

Tim looked around the room as the gas dissipated. His gaze found its way to a shaking heap on the floor next to the shattered remains of the canister he had been standing before. The proud grin faded from Tim’s lips. 

That... that wasn’t a good sign at all.

“Hey, um, hood? Red hood, status?” He asked, the words felt strange as they left his mouth. Hearing his own modulated voice echo slightly in the room felt vaguely surreal. 

The heap of muscle and leather known as Jason didn’t reply. 

Seeing Jason’s twitching body on the floor emptied a hollow pit in Tim’s stomach. Jason had never seemed like he was even capable of fear. Capable of rage, capable of hurt, and capable of pain, sure, but fear seemed like something Tim would’ve assumed Jason was beyond. Something so... innate, that the unnatural nature of Jason’s second life would’ve swept it away. 

Tim made his way over, hesitantly rolling the helmet forward off his head. The fear toxin seemed to be thin enough now that it wasn’t harming him.  

“Ja-er, Jason?” Tim’s soft voice seemed thunderously loud in the quiet room. The only other sounds around were the fans quietly whirring away and, far more disturbingly in his opinion, the even quieter shaking breaths and distressed whimpering tumbling from Jason’s lips. 

Jason was not in good shape. He was shaking violently, hands over his head. His whimpers were punctuated by violent spasms that racked his body every few seconds, accompanied with a louder more pronounced cry. 

Tim felt the colour drain from his face. He quickly kneeled down, setting the helmet on the concrete floor next to them both with a slight clink. Tim grabbed Jason’s arm, trying to turn him on to his back. Jason heftily flailed the arm Tim pulled, unintentionally hitting Tim in the face. Tim yelped in surprise as a sharp pain sprung from his nose, warm liquid leaking down his face. The blood pouring down his face didn’t deter Tim much, the blood coursing through him  seeming to do the opposite for pain as it did the rest of his senses. The pain was slightly numbed--or, rather, it had become easy to ignore. He fought to wrangle both of Jason’s arms, quickly scrambling to sit on Jason’s torso, struggling to pin Jason’s arms down with his legs. 

Tim took off his mask. He knew it was against protocol, but an un-obscured face was easier to recognize when the toxin took hold, in Tim’s experience. 

“Jason? Jason, look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked quickly, holding on to Jason’s shoulders. He desperately hoped Jason wouldn’t throw him off. Jason’s eyes were unfocused, spinning around wildly all over the room. 

Tim tried to process Jason’s words, “No, not again, ple--I can’t I--it hurts! Fuck! It hurts,” Jason’s words became incomprehensible for a moment, then his fists clenched tightly. “I don’t want to die! Not again. Not again not again not again! He’s gotta come save me, take me home, he’s gotta! Shit, not again!“ he choked and broke off with a shout and another full body jerk. 

Tim was jostled but didn’t fall off, by some miracle. “Jason!” he tried. “Listen to me!” Tim put his hands on either of Jason’s face. Jason flinched away from Tim’s touch with a sob of “It hurts, it hurts, I can hear all my bones snapping, I’m dying, it’s crushing me, I can’t--I can’t--”

“I know,” Tim cut him off gently, “I know it hurts and--and you’re scared, but you’re not alone, I’m right here. I’m going to help you,” Tim tried to catch Jason’s focus. 

Jason’s roaming eyes stopped dodging around the room, and turned towards Tim. He kept looking from Tim’s shoulders, Tim’s chest, back up to his face and then to his eyes and back to his chest again. Perhaps not the ideal image of calming down but it was a first step. 

“Good,” Tim praised softly in relief. He ran his thumbs over Jason’s cheeks gently. Now more so than ever did Tim take notice of the scars on either side of Jason’s face. On Jason’s left cheek, there was a jagged line that traced from his cheek bone down to his jaw. A similar yet smaller one was mirrored on Jason’s right. Tim could understand why Jason flinched from him. He shook the thought from his mind, “See? We’re okay. Just try to breathe, in and out. You can do that, right, Jason?”

“No! No! I c-can’t, I’m crushed, I can’t. My--my lungs, they’re all full of blood, and mud, and dirt, and fuckin’ I dunno what!” Another violent thrash went through Jason’s body, almost toppling Tim off this time. “I can’t breathe, it hurts! I want it to stop hurting! How do I make it stop!?” 

“Uah--yeah, I know it hurts, but I promise nothing is crushing you. It’s just me, I’m light, and I’m here and I--I know it hurts I’m going to try to make it stop but I need to--” Jason thrashed, but Tim didn’t relinquish his hold on him, “--but I NEED you to stay still!”

Jason’s eyes finally locked on to Tim’s, “M-make it s-stop?” he echoed back to the smaller vigilante.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to try to make it stop.” Tim slowly pulled his hands away from Jason, sitting back slightly, starting to fish through the many pockets and pouches attached to the strap around his waist.  

He almost always had the antidote on hand. Bruce had trained him and prepared him meticulously, making certain that Tim would be ready with everything they had at all costs. The only issue was it was enough antidote for him; almost seventeen, about a head shorter and ninety pounds lighter--nowhere near enough antitoxin for the two hundred and forty pounds of murder that was the shaking mass of Jason Todd slumped before him.

Jason dropped his head back against the concrete floor, beginning to mutter once again. 

“My fault. All my fault. I can’t--all dead.”

“No one is dead, Jason, everyone is okay,” Tim said, soon after feeling a small surge of triumph as he located his field fear toxin antidote kit. He opened it, quickly pulling out a small vial, and a syringe.

Jason’s eyes snapped to the syringe in Tim’s hand as he filled with antidote. Jason grew quiet for a second before starting to try to fight Tim off of him, “No, no no no no no no! Don’t go! don’t go! Not again, I can’t be alone, can’t be asleep he’s gonna kill us. Dad said he’ll get rid’f his mistakes!” 

Tim knew Bruce wouldn’t have ever threatened Jason like that. He could only assume Jason meant his biological father. 

“Said he would--don’t, don’t! It’s crushing me I can’t be alone!” Jason couldn’t keep hold of his own fears. They ran together, all mixed in to become some dread filled nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. 

Tim was lucky Jason was so sloppy in this state. If he’d had a bit more of his wits about him, Tim figured Jason would’ve easily shaken him off already.

“You aren’t alone!” Tim reminded Jason, struggling to inject Jason without hurting him. “This is going to make it stop, I promise!” Well, that wasn’t fully true. But the dose would reduce it. 

When Jason wouldn’t hold still enough for him to properly gauge where the vein he needed was, Tim unceremoniously jabbed at where he hoped it was instead. 

Jason shouted, thrashing around like a heavy shark in a net being lifted out of water.

Tim pulled the empty syringe away quickly, letting Jason throw him off. He stumbled and crashed back down, landing on the concrete floor a few feet away. Tim only now realized how heavy his breath was as he watched Jason writhe freely on the floor before him. As Tim caught his breath, Jason’s movements gradually began to slow. The mutterings of fear faded into soft whimpers, then into deep breaths like Tim’s. Tim bit at his lip again. “Jason?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Jason groaned in response. He took a moment to collect himself as he grew conscious of reality again. Really, reality was a shit hole too, but it was a better shit hole. He shifted slightly, cussing under his breath. 

Tim felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders; swearing like a sailor was promising in Jason’s case. 

He quickly scooted across the floor to him. 

“Hey,” Tim said in a hushed voice. “Jason? How you feeling?”

Jason--with what felt like the struggle of Sisyphus rolling his boulder for the millionth time--rolled over to face him. The white shock of hair stuck to Jason’s forehead with panic induced sweat. He puffed out a lungful of air in a feeble attempt to blow the hair from his face. Jason swiftly gave up on that and swallowed heavily.

 “I-I... yeah, yeah, I uh... I--okay. I’m feeling okay,” Jason rambled, looking dazed. He took up scanning the room again, hyper-vigilant to any danger.

Tim nodded slowly. He grabbed a water bottle that was shoved in one of his many pouches. He helped Jason sit up, just enough so he could sip at the water, and forced the bottle into Jason’s hands. 

“Drink,” Tim ordered, quietly. 

Jason’s hands still shook lightly, causing him to fumble with the cap in his hands. 

Now that the danger had passed, Tim finally had time to process what had happened; he often found himself acting and only having time to absorb the details afterwards. Details like that Jason had traded his safety and immunity for Tim’s. 

Why did Jason do that?

“Not... that I’m ungrateful,” Tim began hesitantly, “but that was a stupid thing to do, just… now- today,” he stumbled out awkwardly.

“I know,” gasped Jason after a long chug of water, a weak smile on his lips. 

“I mean--it’s like in those before flight messages on planes. Put your mask on before the baby’s or whatever,” Tim joked slightly. Tim’s nose wrinkled slightly, cringing just the tiniest bit as he realized he implied he was the baby in this situation, “Well, you know what I’m getting at…”

Jason seemed to only take even more amusement out of the teen’s regret. Tim never thought he’d see the day where he felt tension draining at the sigh of Jason Todd, a man that tried to kill him and about eighty other people, smiling. 

Jason laughed weakly, though it came out a little haltingly, as the shivering shakes hadn’t yet subsided. “Yeah, well, I d-did have my mask on. I just... gave it to the k-kid before the plane went down,” he mused. He didn’t really believe in his own point, and shook his head. 

“No, no you’re right. It was stupid and I know that.”

They fell into a slightly awkward silence for a second, the burning question still gnawing at Tim’s mind.

“Why?” Tim said, abruptly. “Er, why did you do that? If you knew it was stupid?”

Jason didn’t answer for a long moment. Instead stalling by taking another swig of water. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before answering.

 “I don’t know,” Jason admitted, with a little smile. 

Jason was breathing heavily, but seemed more focused, “I didn’t... really think. Maybe I was just makin’ up for other stuff I f-fucked up or... dunno. I guess I j-just... I knew if one of us was gonna be safe, it had to be y-ou.”

Jason swore he could practically see the little loading sign twirl in Tim’s nerd-brain as the teen processed what he’d said. The mental loading bar filled, and Jason’s words seemed to click. Tim’s eyes dropped away, and he smiled a little shyly. Not an awkward or uncomfortable smile. Just complimented.

“Thanks,” Tim’s voice was just above a whisper, “ that was... really nice of you.” 

“It’s okay, don’t men-ention it. Like literally ever. It’ll ruin my rep,” Jason cracked a teasing smirk once again and Tim got to his feet laughing lightly.

“Annnnddd he’s back to normal,” Tim chuckled and offered Jason a hand. Tim yanked him, not without obvious difficulty, up to stand tall. Jason leaned on him for a moment before straightening, keeping a hand on Tim’s shoulder to steady himself. Tim quickly bent down and scooped up their masks from the floor where he’d set them down.

“Let’s get you home,” Tim hummed, putting Jason’s arm around his shoulders again when he stood.

“Hey, I’m fin-ne, you don’t have to take me back,” Jason argued, but Tim was already starting to lead him away.

“Too bad, I decided I am.”

“Rep-placement Robin number whatever you are--I am fine!”

“Sure you are, that’s why you can’t stand up right by yourself?”

“Shut up!”

“I speak only truth.”

The two bickered all the way back through away from the docks. All the way back through the city. All the way until they reached Jason’s apartment complex. Then they bickered some more. Though neither knew it yet, what had begun forming was the beginning of a close bond. One that nothing would be able to break.

#batman #robin #jason todd #redhood #red hood #Tim Drake #red robin #batfam big bang 2021 #Just for Fun #idk how tumblr works

[kimberly-spirits13]

Lucky Shot (Request)

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Synopsis: You’re an anti -hero like Jason, often going out with him and helping him on patrols and missions. You use different weapons than him, but after noticing how you can’t really do long range with yours, you ask Jason to teach you to shoot.

Warnings: Mentions of guns 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 921

           It was a sunny afternoon in Gotham city. You were in your apartment reading up on the latest news and having a coffee at the kitchen counter waiting for Jason to come back from a family event that he was required at. It was one of those rare days where the weather was clear, it was warm enough to leave the apartment in jeans without being hit by a wave of humidity, and you were in the mood to try something new. You didn’t really know what yet however, seeing as you had only suddenly gotten this random urge to do something productive with your time.

           The news got more boring and mundane for Gotham after a few minutes of scrolling and gawking at the stupidity of some of the people mentioned in headlines. That was when you had the idea to go and sharpen your knives. You walked into your bedroom and into the farthest point of the closet where no one went. Inside was a hidden door in the wall and another larger compartment in case anyone came snooping around. It was something that Tim, Jason’s younger brother had recommended after you brought up the issues of hiding everything in an efficient spot.

           Once you had those out, you went and sat down in the living room at the table to start your work. The task was boring without music so you went ahead and turned on your favorite playlist to help you relax some and get into a comfortable space. This came naturally for you and was a fulfilling task that you had to do often but not one you hated doing. It was especially relaxing when Jason was by your side cleaning his guns. You thought about the talks that you two had during those times when an idea popped into your head. You had been having issues on patrol with not really being able to get a job done without going one on one or knife throwing but you thought maybe Jason would teach you to shoot. It was a perfect day to if he was up for it.

           Jason was back home now and was getting changed into some more comfortable clothes when you came into the room and sat on the bed.

           “Hey Jay?” You asked from the other side of the bathroom door.

           “Yeah Y/N/N?”

           “I noticed that I was having issues on patrols with just using knives and I was wondering, would you teach me to shoot?” You didn’t hear anything for a second which kind of worried you for a few seconds until he opened the door and walked out with a smile.

           “I was waiting for the time you’d ask. We’ll go down to the warehouse and I’ll show you.”

           You had the look of excitement plastered on your face like a bright neon sign which made him smile to himself as you were driving to the base. He stopped the car out front in a more hidden area and then walked inside after unlocking the doors. Jason had made his own little shooting range for practice at this one out of boredom one day while you were out of town.

           “Okay, so the first thing you need to know is gun safety because I don’t want you getting hurt.” Jason started, “When someone passes you a gun and you’re not actively shooting, you need to check the chamber to make sure that there’s not a round loaded. Make sure it’s on safety when you do this so that it doesn’t fire.”

           You nodded listening to what he was saying taking mental notes of everything, “Keep it pointed down range and only at what you intend to shoot.” He explained showing you what he was doing.

           That was when he held up a magazine, “These are your best friends if you have them loaded and ready to replace at moment’s notice.” “They’re kind of tricky to get ammo in when you’re not used to it but you should be fine.” “To put them in you just do this.”

           Jason took the magazine and shoved it into the magazine well. After that he showed you the release button for the magazine once it was in securely. Once that was finished, he cocked the gun to load a round into the chamber and turned off the safety before firing. You smiled at the sight to yourself slightly and took it from him when he handed it to you to try.      

           You did what he instructed and got into the proper footing. Finding which hand to gold the grip was pretty easy for you and after a few seconds, you started shooting until the slide came back to revel an empty chamber and magazine. Jason was smirking some as he headed down range once your firearm was secured. That was when he stopped and looked down at the target with a slacked jaw.

           “W-what?” You asked nervously some.        

           “You did REALLY good. You’re sure you haven’t done this before?” Jason asked inspecting the target that was now almost destroyed with bullet holes.

           “Uh, yeah this is my first time. My parents weren’t ones for guns at the time and then when they were ... well, you know.” You stood waiting for him to come back down with the target in hand.

           “Must have been a lucky shot.” He said making you roll your eyes.

           “Or it’s just that I have a great teacher.” You laughed some making him perk up.

           “Yeah, that too.”

I’m actually kind of surprised with myself for not having any other Jason fics besides this and one other. I had a MASSIVE Jason Todd phase when I was younger. I also grew up shooting guns so this was fun. It’s been a while since I have so I hope that I mostly got everything for some part. I started on my grandmother’s 22 long rifle and then when I turned 12 I think it was, I ended up getting the Ruger Mark IV 22. So it wasn’t anything too big but it was pretty exciting and then it got recalled for repairs on the safety but still 🤷‍♀️. Anyways, I hope that you’re all having a wonderful day and week and continue to have a great one. Stay safe and healthy and also, are any of you getting hit by this massive dust cloud kicking into the US right now? We’re getting it tomorrow I think.

#dc comics #dc x reader #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood x y/n #red hood x you

[reddrobins]

of coffee cups + criminals - three [j.todd]

TW: language

ONE - TWO

Chapter three

Waking up whilst tied to a chair was not on [Y/N]’s to-do list. 

Groggily, she tried to look around the dimly lit space - though found it nearly impossible to open up her eyes. The front of her face felt hot and sore, a temporary reminder of the punch she had endured. 

Pushing through the searing pain, she opened her swollen eyes to the best of her ability. From what [Y/N] could make out, it was a large room - the ceiling nearly impossible to see. The space around her seemed to be crowded. Multiple different crates littered the area, some open - their covers tossed among the floor, others stacked atop each other. 

Based on the minimal sight of her surroundings, [Y/N]’s best guess at her location was a warehouse. Though, that didn't really help her narrow down exact places as Gotham was full of warehouses. 

Assuming that the Black Mask was smart enough to operate in secrecy, she knew that the warehouse wouldn't be one near Gotham Square. No, it must have been near the outskirts of town, maybe even close to Blüdhaven. 

“...my end of the deal.”

A voice sounded from the far right of the room, [Y/N]’s head snapping towards the sound. It was just light enough to make out a few figures, one animatedly talking.

“I told you, I always keep my word.” 

[Y/N] could easily tell who the baritone belonged to. Hell, it was the last thing she had heard, right before that fucker punched her in the face. Sionis grew closer, his conversation now clearer to her ears. Deciding it better to be found asleep, rather than face the criminal again, [Y/N] drooped her head, feigning a deep slumber.

“Not sure why you think she’s needed, didn't seem to know a lick about the Hood - but if this is all I gotta do to make sure he's taken care of… She's all yours.”

The small group was now mere feet in front of her, all the members oblivious to her eavesdropping. Risking it, she peaked open an eye in an attempt to count the pairs of feet.

One, Two, Three… 

On the fourth pair, her breath caught in her throat. 

She didn't believe it.

There was just no way.

And then in one quick sentence, Roman Sionis confirmed her fears.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. J.”

-

Seven hours, thirty-two minutes and 12 seconds since the last time he had heard from her.

Jason was officially starting to panic. After phoning, dare he say it, Batman, he had sent a signal to the rest of the family - putting his own hubris aside to get [Y/N] back safely.  Though, that was over 6 hours ago.

Dick and Damian had gone to Blüdhaven, expanding the search effort outside of Gotham. Meanwhile, Tim had been instructed to remain in the cave and access each and every public camera in the city in hopes to catch a glimpse of [Y/N]. Steph stayed too, wanting to be on guard just in case Tim found something. Cass and Duke briefly went out on recon, but came back empty handed. The only two that were actively on the scene were Jason and Bruce. The distant father and son duo had spent the waking morning on the roofs of Gotham. 

Currently, Batman stood with his back towards Jason - getting intel from Oracle through the cowl. It had been like this for a while now, Bruce would silently get filled in whilst leaving his son to wonder what Barbara had said. Jason had just about had enough, it was his search after all, no one would be involved if it weren't for him. They should be filling him in, not Bruce.

“You ever planning on filling me in, old man?” Jason finally spoke. He leaned against the rooftop ledge, angrily (and anxiously) drumming his gloved fingers against his leather coat.

Bruce grunted as a reply, acknowledging his son's question, but not bothering to turn around.

Jason, with years of practiced impatience, scoffed and tapped the side of his helmet, tuning into the comlink. “Oracle, do me a favour - quit talking to Bats and actually tell me what's going on.”

He almost cringed at the harshness in his tone. He had never had anything against Barbara, if anything he felt closer to her than anyone else in the family. Shared trauma tends to do that to a person. Nonetheless, the secrecy between her and Bruce was getting on his nerves. He knew the longer he was out of the loop, the longer it would take to find [Y/N] - and that was the opposite of what he wanted. 

“...Red Hood, I don't know if that's the best course of action right now. I think letting Batman handle this would-” Jason was quick to rebuttal, the notion of letting Bruce handle anything set him off.

“I’m sorry Babs - But last I checked I asked him for help, not the other way.” The name drop, Jason will admit, was immature. Though the line was secure, he knew better than to expose identities. Sighing, Jason apologized, “... Sorry Oracle, that was on me. I just… I just need to find [Y/N].”

It wasn't often that Jason shared his true feelings with the Batfamily, thus this admission of truth was a pleasant surprise to Barbara. The older woman then spoke through her link, “It's fine Hood.” She then turned her words to Bruce. “I- I think he's right Batman. It is his case… He deserves to know everything.” 

Maybe it was admiration for Barbara or maybe it was the swell of ‘I told you so’ to Bruce, but Jason, for the first time since [Y/N] had disappeared, felt hopeful. 

Bruce finally turned around to face his son, who in turn titled his head in earnest. “Oracle,” The older man voiced, “shut off the coms.” A click resounded inside the two mens headsets, signaling the radio silence.

“Before I disclose the information, I need a promise.” Though he donned the cape and cowl, Jason knew that this was not the caped crusader asking for a promise, but his father. As civil as he could be, Jason nodded for him to continue. “I need you to promise me that you won't go running into wherever, that you won't let your emotions get the best of you.” 

The former Robin wanted to scoff, but opted for rolling his eyes under his mask. Bruce was being ridiculous, “This isn't fucking Serejavo, alright?” He knew that he stuck a nerve, he could see a fraction of a flinch from his mentor. “I’m twenty-two, not fifteen - remember? Or do you have me confused with another one of your child soldiers?”

Uncomfortable silence ensued between the two, the seconds ticking by as Jason quietly wished for [Y/N] to be by his side, making this time spent with his adoptive father tolerable. 

Bruce’s response was monotonous, practiced as to not show emotion, “That's enough. We’re on a life or death search, this isn't time for a pity party.” 

‘Okay, Ouch.’ Thought Jason, ‘Thanks for rubbing salt in the wounds, really great work there B-man.’

Having had enough of this familial crap for the day (lifetime it felt like), Jason conceded, “Just get on with it.”

Heaving a sigh, Bruce took a small tablet out from under his cape. He handed it to Jason who quickly sifted through all of the information. It was chocked full of files, pictures, videos, fingerprints, fuck - blood samples. He perused more and more, going further into the database and then - 

Jason thought his heart stopped, again.

He felt as though all the air had been pulled from his lungs.

File 104 out of 305: a single strand of acid green hair paired next to an unknown fingerprint.

“Nightwing found it while crashing a drug trade.” Bruce stated, tone calm and collected.

At that, Jason's brows furrowed, “That's not usually his M.O. Drug trades were never his thing.”

‘No,’ A sick voice hissed in Jason's head, ‘Brutally beating a child to death is though!’

Batman nodded, “Correct. He didn't conduct it. The Black Mask did.” 

Roman Sionis, that fucking dweeb. 

Jason had had a personal vendetta against him ever since his successful take over of the Gotham underground. In the past, he wouldn't have paid a second of attention to that idiot, but once Falcone dipped, the crooks of Gotham were his for the taking. Sionis seemed to think that just any ‘Roman’ could replace ‘The Roman’. 

“What's this got to do with [Y/N]. I don't have time for an extra case, if you haven't realised, my girlfriend-”

Bruce was quick to interrupt before Jason continued one of his heated tangents, “We have reason to believe that he and Black Mask are working together.”

Jason stayed silent, for the first time actually wanting to hear what Bruce had to say. “That being said, rather, we believe Black Mask has hired…” The older Wayne looked at him head on, trying to gage his emotional response before he pressed on, “We think he has hired the Joker.”

It was involuntary, just an ingrained reaction for him to tense up at the mention of the Clown Prince of Crime. Maybe his constant thoughts of [Y/N] were clouding his detective skills, but he had yet to make a connection - or maybe he knew exactly where Bruce was going, but refused to even think of the implications.

“So what are you saying…”

The dark knight closed his eyes, composing himself before giving the final blow.

“I am saying, Black Mask has hired the Joker… to get rid of you.” Even with the mask on, Bruce could sense the indignance oozing from Jason, he held his hand up to silence him and continued, “You’ve been severely depleting the Black Masks profits - he’s losing grip of the crime world. He’s deemed you as the one thing stopping him from complete control, and he's desperate. So desperate that he's hired a maniac to do his bidding.” 

Taking another deep breath, Bruce let the information he had been keeping in, spill out, coating Jason in its toxic bearings. “The Joker knows you, as much as I hate it - he knows you better than any other criminal out there. He knows how to get to you. He knows your weaknesses. He knows your strengths, and he knows your allies. Even Jason Todd’s allies.”

And just like that, the small ounce of hope that Jason had felt earlier, diminished to nothing.

He would have taken being blown up again than this.

“Where is he?” Was all that Jason could muster. 

Bruce immediately shook his head, “No, Rob- Red Hood, I told you, you promised not to go in like-”

“Like last time?” Jason interjected.

Under the cowl, Bruce's face felt hot, unexpected embarrassment rising to his cheeks. “I didn't say that.” He grit out.

Jason finally let out the over do scoff, “But you meant it.” He then approached the larger man, leather gloved hand stretched out, “Now give me the fucking location.”

Though Jason was the closest to Bruce's build within the family, the older Wayne still had a height advantage on him. He stared down at his son, piercing eyes glaring at Jason to ‘stand down’.

Lifting a hand to press the comlink on, Jason spoke into the helmet mic, “Oracle, send me the Jokers coordinates.”

Before Bruce even got a chance to interrupt Barbara's channel, Jason had received the map, location locked in.

Jason backed away from the Bat, crossing over to the ledge once more, grappling gun at the ready.

“Jason!” 

Annoyed, he turned around to catch a glimpse at his mentor, expecting to be yelled at or lectured. Surprisingly, Bruce gave him a tight lipped nod, then - “Be safe.”

Not bothering to acknowledge his fathers - what he assumed to be - half assed façade of care, he swung to the next building, ready to get his girl back.

Bruce knew that two words wouldn't make up for all the hurt he's put Jason through, but it was the most he could do at this moment. He was afraid, he was worried, he was everything a father would be when their child throws themself into danger. Letting out a sigh of built up frustration, he linked up to Babs.

“Keep an eye on him, if it gets out of his control - I’m going in.” Oracle gave a hum of recognition, tuning in her cameras to Jason's helmet. 

“Keep him safe… please.”

#Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #batfamily #batman imagine #batman x reader #batfamily imagine #batman #red hood #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc comics imagine #DC comics

[peppersonironi]

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter Four

For my @dukethomasbigbang fic, we have the third prank, and fourth chapter! I hope y'all like it! Yet again a huge thanks to betas @queerbutstillhere & @theycallme-ook

Summary:

Everyone was suddenly shaken out of their stunned staring when the Cave’s sound system flared up, blasting dramatic choral music. It was the perfect track for the perfect moment, building up tension to an uproar as the lights dimmed slightly, and all attention was brought on the crackling of lightning arcing across a new figure, who was rounding the bend.

Duke grinned at his crowning achievement.

Read on Ao3

Ah, Cheerios, the best kind of breakfast cereal. Duke just didn’t get why people seemed to hate them so much. They weren’t bland, they just had a nice even subtle oat flavor which was refreshing compared to all the intensely sweet sugary crap that Dick kept attempting to sneak in past Alfred. And they were so delicious with milk! Of course, they were also fantastic when you added things to them as well, like a light drizzle of honey, or a small handful of granola. If you were feeling especially adventurous - or if Damian was the one to go shopping with Alfred and therefore got the choice in what was bought that week - you could even have it with some unsweetened vanilla oat milk.

“But does that count as a subset of cannibalism?” Duke wondered aloud between bites of cereal.

He took another bite thoughtfully and hopped down from the island in the middle of the kitchen to make his way out the door and down the hall. Alfred was away for the weekend (Tim had mentioned something about regaining his honor in a pie baking duel with Ma Kent? Duke wasn’t sure.) so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

Not that he ever got in trouble. For some reason.

Duke angrily crunched down on another spoonful when a sudden banging around came from the ceiling above him. Duke froze, suddenly terrified. What was it? Aliens? Did Alfred (The Cat) finally figure out how to phase through walls? Were some of the skeletons (which Jason had warned Duke he stored in the drywall) finally reanimate and were slowly crawling out, in a slow determined quest for revenge?

As the opening to the air vent just a few feet ahead banged open, releasing a lone figure, Duke was dismayed to find it was not, in fact, some fantastical being or occurrence.

It was just Steph.

Duke quickly finished eating the spoonful of Cheerios and chewed as he waved a greeting with his spoon.

Stephanie, who was completely covered in glitter and carrying a feather duster, glared daggers at Duke and slowly, methodically, drew the duster across her throat.

Duke swallowed heavily and cringed. Ah, it probably would be in his best interest to avoid blaming the purple clothed bandit for any of his pranks in the future.

*****

For the second time that day, Duke found himself in the kitchen of Wayne Manor. Though this time, instead of pondering the moral and psychological repercussions of eating his cereal with oat milk, the teen was having a pre workout snack with his younger brother.

“Add more whipped cream, Thomas,” Damian advised, passing Duke the can. “Dairy is protein, and protein is essential to proper nutrition.”

Duke took the can with a grin, and added a more generous than necessary squirt to the top.

“Alright Dami,” Duke said as he set aside the can, “But you need to be sure to add more than one cherry. Fruit is good for you, you know.”

Damian sniffed superiorly and delicately pulled out three maraschino cherries from the fancy jar than Alfred kept in the pantry. He then placed them precariously on top of the summet of his ice cream sundae mountain.

Duke held up his spoon in front of Damian. “Shall we dig in?”

Damian grinned - a rare occurrence which took the years off of his face, allowing him to truly look like a child. Duke quietly celebrated, ever since he first saw Damian smile at him, he had made it his mission to make his younger brother happier more often.

They clinked their spoons together, and dug into their huge deserts. It was a good thing that Alfred wasn’t home at the moment, or the old Butler would have an aneurysm at the amount of sugar they were putting into their bodies. But oh well, they deserved it for the training session that they’d be taking part in later that afternoon.

It wasn’t often that Bruce had enough time to do a full workout session with any of his kids, let alone something smaller like a one on one thing, or him and a few others. Duke had only gotten this privilege during his first year of staying with the Waynes, and at the time, when he was futilely trying to kick down trees in the yard, he hadn’t understood why such a thing was coveted by his siblings.

But now he did, so he completely understood Damian’s excitement when the thirteen year old had animatedly informed him that because all the others were gone from the city that day, only he and Duke would be present for the training session. So of course Duke suggested making a special treat in preparation.

They were at the very bottom of their large bowls of ice cream when Bruce walked into the kitchen carrying his large jug of water.

“Are you boys ready for today?” Bruce asked, and Duke and Damian grinned.

“Of course, Father. We have been preparing extensively for the past half hour.”

Bruce eyed the empty bowls in front of each of his sons, and grunted. “And sprinkles helped you do that?”

Duke scoffed. “Of course, B. Didn't you know that?”

Bruce looked skeptical, so Damian butted in. “Father, Pennyworth is always informing you to eat your colors. You americans eat such bland food, all tans and grays. Surely compact fluorescent bites are the best way to remedy such a problem.”

Bruce squinted, but didn’t seem in the mood to argue, so he turned around and began to leave the kitchen. “Just be in my study in twenty minutes.”

Behind him, Duke offered a fist bump to his partner in crime. Damian accepted with a smirk.

*****

“Please tell me I’m not late!” Duke exclaimed as he rushed into Bruce’s study.

Bruce and Damian were over by the clock, looking as if they were about to input the time. Duke heaved a sigh of relief at that. Being late to a training session was a mortal sin in the Manor. Or at least, that’s what Jason told him. He said it was the reason he had died (something about Bruce kicking him out, which made him go to Ethiopia for some money an old rich uncle of his had left him, and then the Joker catching wind and tried to rob him, which somehow ended in with him, a warehouse, and a crow bar).

Suffice it to say, Duke made it his mission to never be late to a training session. Ever.

“Tt, Thomas,” Damian remarked, turning back to the clock. “You were cutting it close.”

Bruce sighed. “You’re fine Duke.”

Duke nodded and took his place right behind Damian. The boy huffed in a satisfied manner and crossed his arms.

“Any day now, Father. Unlike you, my time is precious.”

Translation: Damian was excited, and tired of waiting.

Bruce frowned as he spun the arms of the clock again. “The clock is broken.”

Duke raised his eyebrows. “Wow, that couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that it’s really just a door, right?”

Bruce frowned back at the face of the grandfather clock, not bothered by Duke’s incredibly funny remark.

A few seconds later, Duke tried again. “Bruce, what’s wrong?”

Bruce’s eyes were narrowed to slits by now, and his brow furrowed in concentration. “The entrance is malfunctioning. I want you boys to go around and check the others. Including Stephanie’s smuggling tunnel.”

Duke blinked. “Stephanie’s what now?”

Bruce made a shooing gesture with his hand. “Yes, I know about that. Now go.”

Duke and Damian looked at each other, shrugged, then left the room. Might as well do what Bruce says. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner they could work out. Plus they were sort of curious to know what was going on. Neither of them knew, they were innocent! Especially Duke.

Fifteen minutes later, and the trio reconvened in the study once more. Bruce looked angry, Duke looked confused, and Damian was positively fuming.

“This is outrageous!” He cried, as soon as he entered after Duke. “None of the entrances are working! I even attempted to use imaginative means to enter, and nothing worked!”

Bruce’s grim look receded for just a moment. “I’ll let Barbara know she did a wonderful job shoring up the security if even my children can’t get in.”

Damian scowled. “What’s the point of making security that we can’t get into?”

Bruce closed his eyes for three long, tired seconds.

“Anyway!” Duke said, “They aren’t allowing access. Any theories? Or should we just get Tim?”

Damian looked appalled at the idea. “Father!” he cried, “you can’t call Timothy! He will be unable to operate at maximum capacity if he does not complete the weekend of so-called relaxation with the clone at the Kents’ farm.”

“So second best option?” Duke asked.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I hope you don’t let Barbara hear that when she gets here.”

*****

“Hhmmmm.”

Duke, Bruce, and Damian cringed in unison at Barbara’s contemplative noise. The young woman was typing on a laptop plugged into some kind of control panel in Bruce’s office. She hadn’t spoken to them more than first greetings  when she had arrived, so they were left in the dark while she rifled through the Cave’s security system.

Finally, Babs closed the computer and set it to the side. Duke and the others held their collective breath.

“The Cave is registering you as already present inside,” Barbara explained, “Actually, it says that everyone is in the Cave right now.”

Bruce was still and silent, considering Barbara’s words. Damian, on the other hand, seemed to be an inch away from having a meltdown.

“This is preposterous!” He blustered, whipping about and glaring, not having any particular target. “The system is trash, I said we should have fixed it ages ago! And now look at the outcome! I must remain at peak physical capacity, and I am not able to if I miss even a single session! Father, I demand you fix this!”

“Woah, dude, chill,” Duke soothed, resting a hand on Damian’s shoulder. Thankfully, the kid didn’t bite him. “I know you're frustrated, but we work more effectively when calm, right?”

Damian blinked, and glared at Duke for a long moment. “You are not incorrect, Thomas.” Damian finally allowed, turning away.

Barbara smiled. “Well, good news: I can get you in. It’s probably a good idea to call for back-up and wait till you have the forces to-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bruce interrupted, his eye twitching at the glare Babs threw his way. “We can handle it - right, boys?”

Damian sniffed proudly and produced some knives from who knows where. Duke nodded confidently.

Bruce grunted, and motioned for them to fall in line behind him. Barbara watched with her precise gaze as Bruce, Duke, and Damian made their way down the stairs. They didn’t turn the lights on, going for optimal stealth as were, and moved slowly downward.

“Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious,” Duke sang under his breath a little ways after the halfway point down the stairs.

“Making noise is very suspicious, Thomas.” Damian muttered.

“Quiet, Boys,” Bruce snapped before Duke could make a comeback, “We’re almost there.”

As soon as the doors to the Cave opened, they scattered and melted into the shadows. Duke just managed to see Damian crawl up the side of the cave wall, but didn’t see where Bruce went. He didn’t have much time to worry about that, though, as he was hiding himself among equipment that lined the sides of the space.

The path he had chosen gave him an easy pass to circle the main platform, and gage the situation. And boy was it a situation. Because, you see, like Barbara said, they were not the only ones in the cave. They were just the only sentient ones.

The elevator dinged, and Barbara rolled out and into the light. “Are those Manikins?” She asked, incredulous.

*****

Duke smirked proudly at the sight before him, the same sight that left the others outraged and confused

Someone, somehow (It was Duke, and through much hard labour during some time while the bats were actually asleep - he got someone to cover his patrol, this bright young girl called Maps to do it. She said she was a friend of Damian’s, and quite skilled with a grappling hook. Tim had mentioned her before, so Duke wasn’t surprised.) managed to get dozens of manikins - those hyper mobile ones that you can personalise their positions - and spread them out across the cave.  And not just that, they had managed to stylize them after each member of the family.

The manikins also seemed to be moving around at preset speeds, through some mysterious robotic means (Duke mentally thanked the stars that Bruce didn’t bat an eye at someone purchasing thirty roombas with his credit card.).

The first manikin, the one that caught everyone’s eye, was clearly meant to represent Stephanie. It was doused in complete purple, the exact shade of her suit and automated to throw the glitter bombs stored in a sack by its side at seemingly everything - though apparently mainly at the nearest authority figure.

Said authority figure was obviously Bruce, who was moving slowly in wide arcs around the chaos. It was wearing one of those ghost costumes, (you know the ones with just a sheet and cut out holes? Yeah, that’s Bruce.) except with a black sheet. And two plastic forks taped to either side of the head to imitate Bat ears. Though by this point it was also covered in purple glitter, thanks to Steph.

Somehow, the figure right next to Bruce was completely untouched by the purple sparkles, despite wearing the exact same outfit as Bruce’s manikin, plastic forks and all. (Although to be fair, this one was significantly shorter.) Though this mystery could easily be solved by the fact that it was Cass. Well, that explains pretty much everything, actually.

Nearest to Bruce and his mini-me at that point in the rotation was a toddler sized, bright green manikin that represented none other than the current Robin. And if that weren’t enough, think of Edward Scissor Hands. Now imagine those knives and blades and such taped over the whole body. Now you have an accurate picture of Damian Wayne in Manikin form. Honestly, it wasn’t that far off.

Humans weren’t the only things replaced in the Cave, as just by Damian were little dog, cat, and cow statues. And a giant bat stuffie colored red.

Bruce’s manikin had to stop it’s wide arc and jerk suddenly to the side to avoid the next member of the family. Tim Drake’s stand-in was barely visible underneath the six foot tall pile of bulk coffee bean bags stacked around it.

Right behind Tim was a large manikin painted blood red, wearing a faux pink leather jacket with sparkles and rhinestones glued it. It looked like it was meant for a six year old girl. What didn’t look like it was meant for a child, though, were the strips of ammunition draped across its shoulders like a fancy scarf. The look was completed by a large red bucket dumped haphazardly over the head of the manikin.

To the side of the Cave, just barely out of the war path that was The Red Bucket, was something different. Instead of a manikin like you would find in the clothing store, a halloween decoration was set up. And not just any decoration: A life-sized recreation of Dracula that looked so cheap, it was probably bought at Party City for ten bucks. (Hey, it was on sale! Duke wasn’t one to ignore such a spectacular bargain!). The only thing customized about it was the cheap, long, cherry red wig perched precariously on its head. Hey, everyone always said Kate looked an awful lot like a vampire!

The simplest manikin was somehow one of the most recognizable. Painted plain white, it was mostly unadorned with the exception of “007” painted across the chest in big, black, block letters. Now who could that be? It wasn’t like the Bats casually knew a british spy.

But all of that is fairly sane, compared to the … others.

In one corner of the room, a manikin was on fire. Completely on fire. The blaze was huge. Somehow, the manikin itself wasn’t on fire, though. One got the impression that it was supposed to be reminiscent of the burning bush story, or perhaps a phoenix. Ha, phoenix. Flamebird. Duke hoped he wasn’t the only one who found that funny.

Dick’s was on a complicated zip line pulley type system thingy. It was upside down and twisted into a pretzel for a bit, then it reached a checkpoint and was replaced by a new “Dick” in a different position. It looks like Dick’s doing mid air acrobatics. Oh, and he’s wearing a crop top that said “I’m A Dick.”

There was yet another all-green manikin seated on a hover chair that looked suspiciously like alien tech taken from the Watchtower. There was a face drawn on, and it was emulating the Oracle Symbol.

Hidden amongst the shadows in the corner was another manikin, barely within sight. It was resting luxuriously in a clawfoot bathtub, which was filled with jewels of all kinds. Upon its shoulders were multiple cat stuffed animals.

Everyone was suddenly shaken out of their stunned staring when the Cave’s sound system flared up, blasting dramatic choral music. It was the perfect track for the perfect moment, building up tension to an uproar as the lights dimmed slightly, and all attention was brought on the crackling of lightning arcing across a new figure, who was rounding the bend.

Duke grinned at his crowning achievement, the one that is easily the most terrifying. The one that is undoubtedly the Taser Girl herself: Harper Row.

What made this one different? Well, that’s because Harper was not, in fact, a manikin. Instead, the figure was not unlike a stick figure made completely out of metal pipes. The bottom was attached to an encased roomba which was currently going in wide, swooping arcs. The arms are raised triumphantly overhead. (Duke may or may not have spent three hours in front of the Hellmo meme, making sure that it was perfect). And, of course, it was conducting bright blue crackling electricity. (Duke had gotten the idea from one of those science experiment things that is made of lightning, and will every so often shoot a bolt and light something on fire. Minus the fire part. He didn’t have a death wish .)

It was just then that some lightning arced out and set an extra manikin that had been lying about on fire.

Duke cringed internally, but his mood wasn’t dampened for long. He took one look at the other Bats present, and muffled a snort of amusement. They were positively shocked - even Babs! That in and of itself was an utter victory for Duke. It got even better when they slowly separated and began to wander the Cave in wonder and horror. Duke split off as well, and hid behind the Dinosaur.

He almost tripped, however, on one of the babies. Yeah, Babies. Around the legs of the dinosaur, on their own roombas, were inflatable versions of the giant T-Rex. Somehow (maaaaybe with a touch of fiddling with controls), they were even faster than the moving people. They were zipping around and crashing into each other. When Duke hit one, though, it activated a system he had put in place which suddenly unleashed a gigantic roar throughout the Cave via the soundsystem.

The Dinosaurs weren’t the only extra addition to the native wildlife, though. Bats, hundreds of them, were replaced with stuffed animal versions of themselves, and painstakingly hung from string to the stalactites at the top of the cave, like a giant mobile.

Duke peaked out from the side of the wide space where he had been inspecting his own work to gage the situation with the other members of his family. The shock seemed to have worn off by that point, replaced with mixed reactions. Bruce was growing increasingly frustrated, Babs was trying not to laugh, and Damian was secretly pleased, enjoying the look on his father’s face.

Duke chuckled to himself as he went back to looking around in the nooks and crannies where smaller details - like the glow sticks representing glow worms - are set up. He had to admit, when he had set all of this up in two-days-without-sleep haze, he hadn’t actually been sure if it actually looked good. Two minutes later, and Duke was absolutely sure that this was in the top fifteen best Bat-Pranks, He’d have to petition for it to be added at the next meeting.

A sudden clamor came from the Batcomputer, and Duke grinned before practically skipping over to see what was the matter. This will be fun, he thought.

Upon his arrival, he knew it was true.

“Holy shit!” He crowed joyfully upon catching sight of the one manikin that had been missing earlier: his own.

Duke’s manikin was draped in gold curtains - clearly from the South Wing’s Music Room - to look like a toga, and sitting on a throne. Literally. (Bruce just had one lying about in the Attic) The throne rested on a huge platform covered in jewels (also taken from the treasure chest in the Attic). A light setup in the crannies of the Cave’s ceiling shot out beams of ‘disco’ light. Thin black vales hang from the ceiling to give the ominous feel of shadows. And, in case there was any confusion, a golden plaque rests at the base, and is engraved with the words “The Duke of Gotham. Bow Before Your Ruler.”

It’s beautiful, Duke thought ecstatically, so much better than I could have ever dreamed!

He promptly burst into laughter.

Bruce growled in frustration. “This is not funny, Duke.”

“I dunno, B,” Duke shrugged, “I sure think it is!”

“It is not. This is a defacement of the cave, plain and simple. And a poor use of resources to boot. This space is supposed to be efficient, a place that aids in the mission - and are those my Great Aunt Matilda’s emeralds?”

Duke shrugged again as Bruce was set off onto an even longer rant about wasting everyone’s time and abilities since they were going to have to clean it all up. Duke was mostly tuning Bruce out by that point.

“-if you are being flattered by the prankster, that is a clear sign of them trying to get you on their side.”

Duke froze and did a double take. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I didn’t train you to be so easily manipulated.”

Duke coughed. “Uh, I think you got this mixed up, B. See that? That’s me on the throne. Clearly this whole prank was organized by me.”

Bruce stared at Duke for a solid three seconds. Babs was covering her mouth to avoid a giggling fit, or maybe just out of shock. Damian was frowning at Duke.

Bruce’s right eye twitched. “Duke, no need to be sarcastic.”

Duke opened his mouth to argue some more, to explain just how wrong Bruce was, when said Dark Knight whipped around and stalked towards the elevator. He froze, though, when he stepped in front of Damian.

There wasn’t even a moment's pause before Bruce was glaring down at his youngest son with resigned, tired eyes. “Damian, how many times have I told you that more knives are not better? You gave yourself away.”

Damian screeched in indignation, and raced to follow Bruce out, demanding for Bruce to see reason.

“Father, you are being ridiculous!”

But his cries were quickly silenced by the closing of the elevator doors, leaving just Duke and Barbara in the Bat Cave.

Babs pivoted to look to Duke and shrugged. “Sorry kid, but he’s just stubborn.”

Duke blinked in confusion as she wheeled away. Had she always known? Scratch that - she was Oracle. Of course Barbara knew.

Duke collapsed at the foot of his throne, and put his head in his hands. Next time, he promised himself, no one else is gonna be there. No one else can take the credit.

*****

“He’s really trying, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this will be fun to watch.”

“Yes.”

“Should we just tell Bruce and be over with it?”

“…”

“Yes, you’re right Cass. We wait and watch.”

#damian wayne #duke thomas #bruce wayne #barbara gordon #batfam #duke thomas big bang #dtbb21 #fanfiction #my fanfiction

[batfam-chaos]

[timkon one shot] home

home

[rating: T | 2,381 words]

Tim returns from a mission exhausted and with a new stab wound. Luckily, Kon is there to take care of him.

read on ao3!

read below:

Tim grits his teeth as he walks through the front door of the apartment that he shares with Kon. He drops his duffel bag down on the rug next to the sofa before allowing himself to finally collapse into the beautiful invention known as cushions.

Letting his head hit the back of the sofa, Tim sighs and contemplates the sharp, unwelcome pain in his ribs. In his experience, getting stabbed will cause things such as pain. Despite being well-acquainted with the sensation, it isn’t exactly pleasant.

Jason stitched the stab wound up for him in addition to giving him a handful of advil that Tim only took two of before stashing the rest in a random drawer in Jason’s apartment while his back was turned. He doesn’t like the way that painkillers make his head feel slow and warm, like it’s wrapped in a blanket of fog. After all, somebody needs to type up a report to inform the Green Lanterns that somebody in Gotham has access to illegal alien tech. Considering how Jason had been up for the past thirty-six hours for their stakeout while Tim has only been awake for the past twenty-four, the choice is obvious.

Bending over to retrieve his laptop from his duffel bag causes the wound in his side to flare with bright, searing pain like his insides are being barbecued on the surface of the sun. Tim gasps and just barely manages to yank his laptop out of the bag as his vision goes spotty.

He takes a moment to let the pain subside into angry throbbing before he opens his laptop, squinting at the sudden onslaught of bright light. Tim unlocks his laptop before pulling up an empty document so he can begin typing his report.

After entering the date and location of the stakeout, he frowns. Didn’t the arms smugglers refer to the alien tech by a particular name? Tim leans back into the couch and stares pensively up at the ceiling. What was that name? He closes his eyes as he plays back each step of busting the arms smuggling ring. There was the initial infiltration, the first time he and Jason were allowed into the warehouse, the excruciating stakeout, and they were finally able to raid the warehouse….

Sometime in the space between one thought and the next, Tim falls asleep.

“Babe,” a familiar voice whispers.

Without opening his eyes, Tim grumbles a response that means something along the lines of please let me continue to fucking sleep. Still, the voice doesn’t relent. “Babe,” it repeats. “Tim. C’mon, you’re going to be sore if you sleep on the couch.”

Tim opens his eyes and finds his boyfriend staring back at him. There’s a slight crease in his brow that means he’s concerned but not overly worried.

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” Kon says with a goofy grin. “I’m just gonna move you to the bed so you can actually sleep.”

Tim grunts in assent and Kon slips his arms around him, preparing to pick him up. However, as soon as Kon’s arm presses against the newly-stitched wound on Tim’s side, Tim gasps in pain and instinctively flinches away.

Kon immediately steps back, snatching his hands back. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

Pressing a hand to his side, Tim waves Kon off. “A little. It’s fine.”

That little line in Kon’s brow deepens. “That doesn’t sound like a little.” He kneels in front of Tim, looking up at him worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“It’s not that bad, in the grand scheme of things,” Tim rasps. “I was only lightly stabbed.”

“Lightly stabbed.”

“Yeah, just a little. Didn’t even hit any organs or anything.”

Kon glances at Tim’s computer, which is sitting on the coffee table and still open. “And you were planing on working more?”

Tim shrugs. “I have to type up a report.”

“I’m going to suggest an a different idea. Are you ready?”

Raising one eyebrow, Tim gestures for Kon to proceed.

“See, I was talking to Clark the other day and he said the darndest thing,” Kon begins.

Tim can’t keep himself from snorting. “The ‘darndest thing’?”

“Yes,the darndest thing, hush. He said that humans do this absolutely wild thing, you’re never gonna believe it. It’s called sleeping in a bed,” Kon explains, raising both of his eyebrows. “I’m thinking, hey, why don’t you try it?”

“It’s funny that Clark was the one to say. I’m pretty sure that at least twenty percent of his sleep comes from napping in patches of sunlight on the floor,” Tim remarks. “Also, I do sleep in a bed.”

“When did you last sleep in a bed?” Kon counters.

Closing his eyes, Tim hums loudly. “Sorry, Tim is unavailable right now. Please leave a message after the beep. Beep.”

Laughing quietly, Kon places one warm hand on Tim’s knee and rubs circles into it with his thumb. “If I carry you over with my TTK, will you sleep in a bed?”

Tim cracks open one eye. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“...Will there be food in bed?”

“I can heat up some leftovers and bring them to you.”

At last, Tim nods and shuts both of his eyes. “Very well. Bring me to this ‘bed’ you speak of.”

Laughing, Kon stands up and easily scoops Tim up with his TTK. He’s wrapped up in a gentle pressure, but, noticeably, there’s nothing touching his injured side. Tim lets Kon lace their fingers together and lightly lead Tim by the hand as he floats him into their bedroom. The TTK gently deposits Tim on their bed and he opens his eyes as the mattress dips next to him.

“Hey,” Kon says, smiling down at him.

Tim feels himself smile. “Hi,” he replies, and then Kon leans down and kisses him.

“I missed you,” Kon murmurs against Tim’s mouth before planting another kiss on his lips. Leaning into the kiss, Tim tangles his fingers in Kon’s curls. It’s soft and warm and feels like coming home. When they finally pull away, Kon is breathless and smiling crookedly.

“I missed you too,” Tim tells him, and Kon’s smile widens.

“I’ll go reheat something for you, but I wanna check your side after you eat.”

Raising one eyebrow at Kon, Tim pokes him with his foot. “You just want to see me shirtless.”

“That too,” Kon replies, grinning.

Rolling his eyes, Tim nudges Kon with his foot again, earning a laugh as Kon stands up and heads into the kitchen. Tim closes his eyes again and drifts drowsily until Kon returns with food. Only then does Tim finally heave himself upright, wincing at the way that the motion pulls uncomfortably at his stitches.

Kon flops down in bed next to him, tossing his jacket onto the chair in the corner and scrolling through his phone as Tim eats. It looks like some kind of casserole-- one of Ma Kent’s recipes, no doubt. Tim is hungrier than he thought, so he eats quickly and lets Kon float the now-empty dish onto the nightstand.

Sitting up, Kon sets down his phone and turns to face Tim. “All right, let me take a look at your side?”

Tim nods and starts to pull off his sweater, but the motion tugs painfully at his side. He ends up with his head stuck in his sweater and his arms lost somewhere inside the sleeves. Turning to where he assumes Kon must be, Tim shoots him a despairing look through the fabric. “Help.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Giggling, Kon reaches over and carefully frees Tim’s head, then his arms, from his sweater. He tosses it onto the laundry pile in the corner before turning back to Tim. “There, I saved you from the deadly sweater.”

“You saved my life,” Tim deadpans. “However shall I repay you?”

Kon leans in and wiggles his eyebrows. “You can kiss me, you know.”

Smiling, Tim leans in and kisses Kon. “There you go. Happy?”

Kon kisses him once more before drawing away. “Very. All right, let me take a look at you.” He leans back and his eyes flash white as he activates his x-ray vision. “Well, it didn’t break any bones, so that’s good….”

Tim leans back on his hands and holds still as Kon peers at his side.

“Who did your stitches?”

“Jason. Considering the amount of sleep he’s gotten, they’re pretty good.”

“Must be the bat training. Lesson one, how to lurk ominously. Lesson two, how to stitch yourself up. Lesson three, how to punch things.”

“Actually, we didn’t learn how to do stitches on people until later. Alfred had us practice on oranges first.”

“And how did that go?”

Tim grins. “Poorly.”

Kon laughs quietly and pats Tim’s thigh. “It doesn’t look like any stitches tore. You’re right, it didn’t hit any major organs either. Congratulations, you’re still in one piece.”

Yawning, Tim slowly lays back down. “Great, that’s a dream come true.”

“You’re a dream come true, babe,” Kon replies, settling down on his side next to Tim.

Tim turns his head so he can smile at Kon. “That was a cheesy one.”

Grinning, Kon pecks him on the forehead. “I know. Hey, how sore is your side? Think it can stand some light cuddling?”

“Definitely, get over here.”

Kon wriggles closer and carefully throws his arm over Tim’s waist before pillowing his head on Tim’s shoulder. As always, it’s amazing to watch Kon curl his tall frame into a ball as he clings to Tim.

With a soft sigh, Kon nuzzles Tim’s neck. “I love you.”

Tim kisses the top of Kon’s head. “Love you too,” he murmurs.

They stay like that for a minute as Tim closes his eyes. Without opening them, he asks, “What’s the likelihood of you falling asleep on me within an hour?”

“Pretty high. I found you on the couch right after I came home from work, so I’m pretty tired and you’re a good pillow. I could conk out right here.”

Tim hums. “How was work?”

Even without looking, he can tell that Kon is making a face. “Somebody brought in this bike-- this really nasty piece of work, let me tell you-- and wanted me to fix it up. The thing is, the cost to repair it was almost as much as the bike was worth. I told the customer, hey, it’s not worth it, and he got all up in my face about it.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Tim murmurs, carding his fingers through Kon’s hair. “You were only trying to help.”

“Exactly! We ended up fixing it up anyways, but the customer was a jerk when he came to pick it up. It freakin’ sucked,” Kon grumbles into Tim’s chest. “I was just trying to be nice!”

Humming, Tim continues running his hands through Kon’s hair. Kon grows quiet and leans into his hand with a pleased sigh. For a few minutes, Tim pets his hair in silence until a familiar rumble fills the air. Smiling, Tim listens to the soothing sound of Kon’s purring and lets the sensation reverberate around his chest.

“Ah, so you’ve started the engine,” Tim remarks casually.

Without lifting his head, Kon grumbles something in reply but continues purring nonetheless.

“For the record, I still think that your purring should be measured in Konpower, not horsepower.”

Kon opens one eye and snuggles closer to Tim before closing it again. Laughing quietly, Tim kisses the top of his head before settling back onto the bed. He closes his eyes and absently pets Kon’s hair as he purrs.

“Hey, babe,” Kon murmurs when Tim is just beginning to drift. “You know that I’m proud of you, right?”

Tim opens his eyes. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“I mean, you’re out there doing all of the superhero stuff alongside us, but you can get injured,” Kon says softly, gazing up at Tim. After a moment, he glances away. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just on my mind because you’re hurt, and everything.”

Tim frowns. “And you’re proud of me for getting injured?”

Shaking his head, Kon’s grip around his waist momentarily tightens. “What I’m trying to say is that you put yourself in danger every time that you’re out there, and that takes guts. That’s all.”

“You can get hurt too,” he says softly. Reaching up to cup Kon’s face, Tim runs his thumb over his cheekbone and watches as Kon’s eyes flutter shut. They don’t often speak of those months when Kon was dead. It happened years ago, now, but Tim still remembers the pain of his loss like a phantom ache in his chest.

Kon inhales a shuddering breath and places his hand over Tim’s. His skin is warm like a miniature sun. “I know,” he whispers. For a moment, the room fills with silence, save for the sound of their quiet breathing. Finally, Kon says, “Still, the way that you run around throwing yourself into every fight you see… I dunno, babe. Seems pretty heroic to me.”

A smile spreads across Tim’s face. “When have you ever known me to back down from a challenge?”

Kon buries his laugh in Tim’s shoulder. “I know, I know. You’re a feral little creature with no fear of god.”

“Exactly.” Tim kisses the top of Kon’s head. “But really, I just want to do the right thing, and sometimes that involves getting into a fight or two. That’s all.”

In response, Kon pushes himself onto his elbows and kisses Tim. When he pulls away, he gently rests their foreheads together. They stay like that, just breathing each other’s air as Tim cups Kon’s face with one hand.

“I really am proud of you,” Kon says at last. “I hate seeing you get hurt, but the shit you do… damn.”

“Somebody has to do it,” Tim replies.

Kon kisses him again before settling down against his side. “You should get some sleep.”

Glancing down at his sweatpants, Tim shrugs. These will do as pajamas. Stifling a yawn, Tim wraps an arm around Kon and pulls him closer. It doesn’t take long for them to fall asleep, all wrapped up in each other. Between the sound of Kon’s soft breathing and his familiar warmth curled into Tim’s side, Tim can finally relax. He’s home.

#holy text post batman! #timkon #tim drake #conner kent #kon-el #fic talk #fic: home #one shot #fic: one shot #do i have a new chapter of birds fly for you? no. #but do i have fluff and tenderness? yes.