#checked himself into arkham and refused to let bruce pull him out

[envysparkler]

A verse where Dick kills the Joker and the Joker stays dead.

Jason comes back as Hood and finds this out, along with the news that Dick is in Arkham Asylum. Full of righteous fury, he goes to break his big brother out--not really noticing that Dick is in Arkham's civilian in-patient facility and not its criminal wing.

Well, he gets a clue eventually, though whether it's because Dick seems utterly, sincerely convinced that Jason is a hallucination and resumes a conversation that Jason has no memory of, or because a deeply annoyed Robin shows up to chew him out for leaving Dick's meds behind remains to be seen.

#fic ideas #arkham asylum #dick has a breakdown after he kills the joker #checked himself into arkham and refused to let bruce pull him out #dick&jason #mental illness

[punnyasitgets]

[cha cha slide voice] reverse!

Freeze! Everybody clap your hands!

Ok so Catwoman Guardian of Gotham was a disaster so I'm taking it into my own hands. Only Bruce and Selina are swapped and Alfred still exists, not. The weird maid lady and Bruce is Not a bloodthirsty murderer

This got Very long so it's under a cut

Selina's parents were murdered by Joe Chill and she vowed to never let anyone feel the same pain she did, hence why she later became Catwoman

Bruce grew up on the streets with his big brother Thomas taking care of them both, but Thomas ended up killing a guy in a mugging and got sent to prison and left Bruce on his own

Catwoman hears about a number of high-profile thefts (museums, aristocrats) springing up and starts trying to track down the cat burglar and ends up interrupting a burglarly from a wealthy woman's penthouse

She chases the burglar down and they have a fight on the rooftops where they kick the everloving shit out of eachother but the burglar throws her off the roof and when she gets back up he's gone

Next night, she attends a charity event and meets an activist and fundraiser by the name of Bruce Wayne and they have a nice chat and hit it off

In the middle of it, a waiter bumps Selina in the side right over where her ribs got cracked from the other night and she doubles over so Bruce helps her out of sight and asks what happened

She tells him she tripped down the stairs of her house but he does Not believe it and ends up sticking by her the rest of the night, at the end of which Selina is like. "He's nice I think" and invites him out for lunch soon

Jump a day or two and Selina runs into the burglar again but this time he's got full body armor and a bat motif and she is Not Happy With This Development

Bruce stole a ton of armor and weaponry from the GCPD and made his own suit because Selina rly messed him up the last time they met

So they fight and Bruce hits her in the side and it floors her and he is like. Wait A Minute, but she recovers and he's forced to run

And then over a period of a month or two, Bruce starts hanging out with Selina in the day (lowkey stalking her to see if his wild theory is right) and while over at her manor he spots a bloodstain on her shirtsleeve from a wound that bled through the bandages she was wearing and when he questions her she says she cut her arm open on a nail accidentally and it's not a big deal but he's just. Hm

Also during this period, Catwoman keeps showing up to stop all of Batman's robberies and he's really getting sick of it because he's been using the money from his stolen goods both to like, feed himself but also to support a gang of homeless kids in the neighborhood he lives in and to help provide food for the local orphanage and it's getting Really Hard To Do That When He Can't Steal Stuff

So basically he knows she's Catwoman and Selina is his friend and he's just. I Have An Idea

Batman starts going out more often just to taunt Catwoman while she's on patrol and he starts going to other rogues like Two-Face and Cobblepit to egg them on and he actively breaks Bane out of prison and the Riddler out of Arkham just to set them loose

He's basically manufacturing a crime wave to try and wear Catwoman out and it's working

She's really exhausted because of all this and every time she has to make an appearance in public she's all tired and struggling to keep it together and Bruce makes a point to be there and to cover for her whenever she's too overwhelmed

Eventually Catwoman gets severely injured during a fight and she's too far from the Cave so, not really having another option, she shows up passed out in Bruce's apartment bleeding out and he's all surprised and helps her and gives her impromptu medical care but never pulls off her mask

Selina wakes up on his couch and he's asleep in a chair he pulled up next to her and she's like :] and leaves him a thank you note before going

So Batman has basically become priority one but he keeps causing so many new problems to spring up that she can't actually go after him while he commits a robbery spree, and every tine she deals with everything else he goes to ground for weeks on end

All the while Bruce is there being Supportive Friend Of The Year and they keep going out to eat and they spend events together and it's Grand

Eventually Bruce asks her out! And she's like. Oh No because while she likes him, she genuinely doesn't know if she can handle being in a relationship at the moment but she doesn't want to say no so she gives a tentative yes and so they're dating

Luckily he is a very understanding man and whenever she has to dip out to be Catwoman or when she's too tired to go out he's all "oh it's fine, I can reschedule" and it's a Very Big Relief

Batman goed to ground after another round of Mess With Catwoman and he stays that way for like three months and she puts all her rogues away so for the first time in a While she has proper free time to spend with Bruce and it's lovely! And shes like. "If this is how our relationship is, I don't want it to end" but because she's Catwoman and she doesn't know that she could hide it from Bruce if they were married and so one night she shows up in his apartment as Catwoman and shows him that she's Selina and he's just "!!!!! Oh that explains a lot, that's really awesome"

He swears he'd never tell anyone about her identity and makes a joke about how because Selina makes herself seem so ditzy at parties, nobody would believe him anyway and so Selina proposes to him the next night and they end up getting married and Bruce moves into the manor ❤️

Unfortunately Batman comes back and he pulls a pro gamer move which involves releasing every inmate from Arkham and Blackgate, including but not limited to her entire rogues gallery

So she's having a Time and literally just can't handle everything and every time she does well against a rogue Batman swoops in out of nowhere to divert her and really it's exhausting and she's working herself to the bone

Eventually she manages to wrangle most of them but the Joker is still on the loose and Batman keeps evading her and she Has Not Slept For Four Nights

While she's in the Cave, Alfred makes a comment about how at night it always gets so nerve wracking, especially since Bruce tends to leave after she does and Alfred is worried he might get caught up in something dangerous considering Batman and the crime wave and Selina is like

"He leaves the house at night??? [wh]" And Alfred gets confused tells her how he can never find Bruce in the manor from around eleven pm to two in the morning so he assumes Bruce goes out to visit friends or to deal with personal business and he tells her abt how he asked Bruce about it and he told Alfred that he and Selina had already talked about it

And Selina is just. "He was lying to you, I had no idea he was going out" which makes her Very Suspicious

She can't Do anything about it because she's trying to track down supercriminals but she checks the manor security feeds and she can't find any trace of Bruce leaving which is Concerning

Basically she ends up finding the Joker and stopping him from bombing the city and he gets sent back to Arkham, but before she can go home Batman shows up and they facedown on the roof

Batman goes all "I really didn't want to do this but you gave me no choice" and then starts trying to kill Selina

He gets a bunch of good stabs in but Selina seems to get the better of him and so he runs and she follows him into an apartment building but loses him in the hallways

She spots a bomb behind one of the doors and realizes the building is about to explode so she gets out of there just before it does and Batman corners her with a gun on a nearby roof

He tries to kill her again but Selina manages to get close and hits the gun away

Batman tries to run but she grabs him by the cape and yanks him back and manages to rip his cowl off before he gets away, at which point she sees that it's Bruce and she's Horrified

And it finally clicks that Batman has been trying to get every other criminal in Gotham to either kill her for him or wear her out so that he can do it himself, which would Also be killing Selina Kyle, and since she doesn't have any other heir, Bruce would get her fortune

And she's all "why would you do all this" and he gets really angry and starts telling her all about the people that aren't as privileged as her and he basically tells her that he wants her money so he can use it to help the people living in the East End and the Narrows, since Selina and the other aristocrats of her stature didn't know the problem like he did and refused to help

So Selina is just baffled that he'd go this far and he apologizes to her genuinely before he tries to kill her one last time because now that she Knows, this is his last chance to get away with the plan

It doesn't work, Selina fights him off and manages to get cuffs on him but he gets away and Selina goes home and Divorces That Man Immediately but also realizes that while he was living with her he'd been stealing things like jewelry she never wore or fancy paintings from rooms nobody ever went into and she is just Not Pleased

But she also allocates a ton of money towards charity projects focused in the more rundown areas of Gotham and actively starts funding all sorts of orphanages, soup kitchens, clinics, etc

She tries to track Bruce down but he's just Gone and so she lets it go even though she's very heartbroken and sad that he tried so hard to kill her

#bat and cat swap #batman #catwoman #dc comics #gaysonlyocean #adobe decrees #tysm rat 🥺

[hellimagines]

Sunbird (Part Two) -- Jason Todd

*My masterlist link can be found in my blog description*

Summary: Y/N wakes up after the bomb, and after Jason’s return she has to deal with the retaliation.

Warnings: Emo Bruce Wayne, angst

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,500+

Part One

A/N: Me? Disappearing for three weeks after impulsively creating another series? Wild. The beginning is a little rocky, but still, let me know what you think!

~Two weeks following the bomb~

Her whole body felt like it was on fire, flames licking the inside of her veins with each breath she took. However, as Y/N pried her sleep-crusted eyes open, she realized that she wasn’t in pain because of it. It simply just didn’t feel right. She was laid flat on one of the nursing beds in the BatCave, with IV’s in both arms, a tube down her throat, and other medical equipment enclosing her. Unable to lift her arms to properly find the source of the fire or to yell out for anyone, Y/N groaned in pain in hopes of someone hearing her.

Someone did hear her, but it wasn’t someone she was expecting. “Fuck, she’s awake,” Dick cursed, startling out of his chair to press a button on the wall beside her bed. “Hey, don’t move, Alfie’ll be here in a sec’, okay?” Y/N weakly nodded, wincing at the pain that jostled in her throat. Dick hushed her, petting a hand down her face to move away some sweat-slicked strands of hair. She hadn’t seen Dick in nearly a year, which wasn’t uncommon for the detective of Bludhaven, but it felt weird to have him as the first person she saw.

A few moments passed with Dick simply murmuring soft words and trying to keep Y/N from shifting too much as the pain increased. But, soon enough, Alfred and Bruce were both rushing toward them, the former snapping latex gloves onto his hands. “Please keep her steady, Master Dick. This will hurt more if she jerks too much,” Alfred instructed, gently placing the palm of his hand against Y/N’s throat. 

Dick did as he was told, holding onto the younger girl’s shoulders to keep her down, while Bruce stood to the side with furrowed brows. “You’re gonna be just fine, Miss Y/N, this’ll be over in a moment,” Alfred hummed, before he was pulling the tube out without warning. Instinctively, Y/N jerked, wanting to fight against the pain in her throat as she yelled out, but Dick kept her from moving. And, as Alfred had said, the tube was gone in only a few seconds, leaving her able to gasp for air while choking and coughing on her own spit. Dick helped her into a sitting position as Alfred fluffed the pillows up, checking her vitals as her hacking calmed down.

Dick’s eyes caught Bruce’s across the bed, silently motioning him to come over, which Bruce began to do. But, he stopped short at the girl’s next words; “Where’s Jason?” she croaked while massaging her throat, before looking up at the older men. “Is he okay?”

Alfred turned his back, busying himself with putting away unneeded medical supplies with shaking hands. Dick looked up at Bruce, pleading for guidance before the older took a step back, shaking his head. “Bruce-” Dick tried, reaching out a hand for the other. Instead, Bruce shook his head and turned, walking away from the others.

“Dick, what happened?” Y/N whispered, dread filling her gut as she felt the tension cover the room like a cloud of smoke. “Please, where’s Jason?”

Dick took a deep breath, “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with heavy breaths, “Joker used me to lure Robin and Batman, but Jason ran in without thinking, got trapped. Then we were tortured, well… Jason got the brunt of it, before… before the bomb went off.” 

“Do you know how you survived?” Y/N shook her head. “When you were a baby, Joker wanted to make you like him, as much as possible at least. But Harley drew the line at the chemical vats, electrocution, and all the other stuff they did to themselves. So, when there was that giant Arkham break ten years ago, Joker had grabbed a whole bunch of random shit from the experiment and confiscation rooms,” Dick explained, taking a seat beside her bed. 

“How do you know all of this?” Y/N questioned.

“Miss Quinzel stopped by when she heard what had happened. She’s still in hiding, but she thought you had died. I must admit, I feared for Master Bruce’s safety for a moment,” Alfred chuckled, despite the sorrowful look on his face. “She told us everything and explained why you hadn’t.”

“Jason’s dead. Isn’t he? You’re only talking about how or why I survived, not him.”

“Always did rival my detective skills,” Dick huffed, unable to look Y/N in the eyes anymore. “When Bruce got there, Jason… Jason was already dead. You were unconscious on top of him, with your fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse I think.” Memories began to filter into her head, ones her mind had blocked immediately after the bomb. Freeing herself from the charred zip ties, crawling over burning metal and wood, collapsing beside Jason, his lips trying to form her nickname one last time, before feeling his heart stop and his eyes go blank. Y/N’s heart ached at the memory, and she choked on a sob that she refused to let escape.

“And on fire,” Alfred added, grabbing ahold of Y/N’s hand as he watched the despair fall over her face. “Harley didn’t know what exactly Joker did to you when you were younger, he never told her the full extent. But whatever he did, insured your immunity against most things. You still bruise, bleed, and break, but those things are harder to kill you than most people. However, I don’t suppose he expected a bomb to fit into that category. So, while you were still burned and in a coma, you survived and healed within days.”

Y/N looked down at her arm, trying to block out the memories again, and noticed the subtle, red glow beneath her skin. The only scars on her arms were of old cuts, bullets, and other injuries. But not a single burn scar laced her skin. “Why didn’t it leave a scar?”

Dick chuckled at the question, having expected her to ask more about Jason, and closed his eyes briefly. “Fire seems to be your best friend. We had to keep a fire extinguisher and buckets of cold water on standby for the first week because whenever you got hot, your skin would spark and catch fire. That,” he pointed a finger to an abandoned charred bed near the corner of the room, “was your first bed.”

Y/N gave the bed a brief glance, before staring back down at her arm. The feeling in her stomach had yet to go away, now filled with grief she didn’t know how to handle. “Are you… are you sure he’s gone? I could’ve been wrong, maybe his heart only stopped for a second, maybe he’s still alive, I’m sure he’s fine-”

“Y/N,” Alfred whispered, the absence of the ‘Miss’ causing her to stop. “Jason’s dead. We haven’t had his funeral, wanting to wait for you to wake up, but he’s gone,” he said softly, rubbing a calloused thumb over the back of her hand.

“I’m so sorry, kid,” Dick choked, letting his forehead fall against her arm as he squeezed his eyes shut. “He didn’t deserve this.” 

She looked between the both of them, tears falling over despite her reluctance. “I-” she began, before pausing and shaking her head. “What if Joker comes looking for me again? What if he comes after all of you next? I can’t lose anyone else, I have to leave.”

Dick shook his head, “It’s already been taken care of. The world thinks Y/N Napier is dead, and that Robin survived. We won’t go public with Jason’s death for a few months to keep shit from hitting the fan. That’s why Harley was here, she thought you had died. Joker even… he even sent Batman a ‘Sorry for your loss’ card.” His voice was dejected, feeling sympathetic for the younger girl on the bed.

“The second I left, he stopped caring about me. I’m not surprised,” she grumbled, wiping her eyes roughly. “Now what? I was only the girl Robin protected, nothing else. With me supposedly dead, and Robin, what do I do?”

“Don’t worry about Robin, we’ll take care of it. But you’re more than just Robin’s ward. You’re smart and strong, there’s plenty for you to do. Whether it’s taking up a mantle, helping out around here, or making a new name for yourself, you’ll find something. We’re not throwing you away, Y/N. You’re family.” 

Y/N listened quietly as Dick talked, absentmindedly running her fingers over her arm as he did. Everything Dick and Alfred were telling her was soaking into her like a sponge; the information was there, but she wasn’t able to process much of it. She knew how cruel the world could be, she was the Joker’s daughter after all, but it still wasn’t fair that Jason was taken from her. That she had to live without him, knowing that it was her fault he was dead. Alfred continued checking her wounds and body temperature as Dick filled her in a few more things (such as Bruce’s refusal to take a break and Batman’s wavering moral code), but Y/N could only listen numbly. She had to figure out her next step, and for the first time in a while, she had to figure it out without Jason by her side.

-- 

It took nearly a year for Y/N to completely recover and get ahold of her powers. She no longer had to carry around a fire extinguisher, and spare ones no longer crowded random rooms in the mansion. The only time her powers would act out was when the temperature around her crept above 80°; needless to say, hot weather and heaters were her kryptonite (but she wasn’t allowed to say that around Clark). She also discovered a new power alongside her… combustion skills- she had the ability to make people feel as though they were burning inside. There were no physical effects, and it couldn’t kill anyone, but the pain was definitely there. Also during that year, a small funeral was held for Jason at Gotham Cemetery, consisting of Y/N, Dick, Alfred, and Bruce. Bruce hadn’t stayed for long, with Alfred following shortly after to keep an eye on him. Y/N and Dick remained until the sun began to set, sitting in comfortable silence and staring at the headstone.

It only took two more years after that for Y/N to grace the streets of Gotham as Nightwing’s sidekick, Sunbird. It was the nickname Jason had given her after she had admitted that being with him was the freest she ever felt while they were sitting on top of Wayne Enterprise, watching the sunset. At the time, Jason didn’t know that there was an actual bird called sunbird, he just liked the way the words went together when he thought of her. And now, with Jason gone and her newfound abilities, the alias stuck. She would have been Batman’s sidekick, but there was a new, scrawny genius taking over Robin and Bruce still couldn’t look her in the eye without seeing Jason’s body. So, Dick had taken on the job of training her while Alfred created her battle-ready, fireproof suit, with built in cooling technology to keep her from overheating. It was a grey bodysuit with red down the back of her arms and over her upper chest, creating an abstract wing design, paired with a red domino-mask. Being Sunbird and racing across rooftops with Nightwing or Robin, and the occasional Titan or other vigilante, gave Y/N the freedom she had been chasing her whole life. 

Now, six years after Jason’s death, that freedom was about to be torn away.

“You can’t keep me locked up, Bruce!” Y/N’s screech filled the Cave, causing Tim to wince from his spot on the nursing bed. They were all still in their suits, reeling and arguing with the fact that Jason was alive and what to do next. 

“You’re the reason he’s back, if you go out there who knows what he’ll do,” Bruce argued, his voice steady yet tinted with anger. “He could’ve let slip that you’re alive to anyone. It’s not safe.”

Y/N let out a yell of frustration, slapping the bag of ice she had been holding into Tim’s stomach as she stalked forward. “This is Jason we’re talking about, he won’t hurt me,” she snapped, pointing a finger at Bruce. “He knows what Joker did to me, he was there half the time, saving me. He’s not going to go blabbing off to everyone and their fucking mom, knowing that it could result in me actually dying. Just because he has a different alias and kills the occasional drug lord, doesn’t mean he isn’t one of us anymore.” 

“That’s exactly what it means-”

“Master Wayne, I suggest you take a break.” Alfred’s voice, the calmest in the room, caused the two bickering vigilantes to immediately silence. Bruce was still breathing heavily, looking down at the younger girl with conflicting emotions, while Y/N stared up at him with narrowed eyes, ready to keep fighting. “You’re both upset, as I assume we all are, but arguing over Master Jason’s role in our family will do us no good in figuring out our next step.”

“Alfie’s right,” Dick sighed, wedging himself between Y/N and Bruce. “B, let’s go let Gordon know about the takedown tonight.” Putting his hands on Bruce’s shoulders he turned the older man around, giving Y/N one last look before guiding Bruce out of the Cave. 

Once the door was shut Y/N collapsed onto the edge of Tim’s medical bed, holding her head in her hands. “Jason’s more part of this family than I am, Bruce can’t just say stuff like that.”

“You are a part of this family,” Tim said, allowing Alfred to poke at his ribs to find the broken ones, “he’s just upset, you know how he gets.”

She murmured, “that doesn’t make it okay,” before lifting her head. She looked over at Tim, watching how Alfred wrapped bandages around his torso and applied more ice to his side. 

It was quiet for a few moments, before Alfred spoke, “if you plan on going solo, at least make sure one of us knows what you’re doing.” Y/N chuckled, flashing him a cheeky smile. “Better yet, take Master Tim or Dick with you.”

At that, both birds scoffed out a laugh. “Yeah right, he’d kill me on sight, same with Dick. No offense, Y/N, but you’re own on your own,” Tim huffed, earning a slap on the shoulder from Alfred.

Y/N laughed loudly and shook her head. “You’re right, no offense taken, baby bird. I have to do this on my own, there’s something off about him right now. Throwing the original and the new Robin at him won’t end well. I can handle myself, he won’t hurt me; no matter what Bruce says, Jason Todd is still under that helmet.”

--

All Writing Taglist (OPEN): @teageowen​  @alex--awesome--22​ @hxdesworld​ @frozenhuntress67​ @samanthasmileys​ @simonsaysyasss​ @marvelismylifffe​ @bademliimagnum​ @wherewecangazeintothestars​ @loxbbg​

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #redhood #redhood x reader #redhood imagine #red hood imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #batfam

[witchsblackfox]

Escape to The Circus

  ~The Stunt She Pulled~

Mari escapes with the miraculous box to the circus after Hawkmoth was defeated. Hiding as the seamstress and performer, she makes friends with Cole, a Greek non-binary individual(they, them, ze, or zir). The circus takes them to Gotham where she takes a risk on her heart.

AN: ~in thought~ ‘sign language' 

________________________

Marinette and Cole have been practicing for months to perfect their routine for Gotham. The dance and aerial trapeze that Mari choreographed was important, more steps than there used to be. Once they finally took a break, there was only two hours before the show begins so Marinette walked out of the main tent to walk and the circus grounds full of people. She wore a black and red cloak hiding her costume and features as she watched families play the rigged games with their children. She walks over to the games, debating on playing but she chooses to watch. Two kids, one was tall wearing a red and green shirt that says “Insomniac is Power” across it and the other was short, wearing a grey plain turtle neck, played the shooting game. She walks over and stands on the corner of the game watching them shoot each clown and knocking them over. She smiles happily as they both fought about who hit the most. The skinny red head game host pointed to the top of the area full of stuff animals and form swords. The smaller boy points to the sword as the taller one points to the big red bat . The host climbs up on his latter and grab the items. The smaller one laughs at the taller one, causing his ears to turn red from embarrassment. They walk off to do another game as she follows for a little longer to watch, Mari was intrigued by the two.

After an hour of watching them she walks off with the red bat, watching more people wander to the rides none of which was of interest to her. The fun house is what caught Mari’s attention, it was always one of her favorite places to escape. She lines up with the other kids and waits. Behind her the sound of excited men stood, practically jumping with excitement, startling the petite girl. She looked over her shoulder, looking passed her hood, catching their height, both of them tower over the short girl. As the line decreased and she got closer to the entrance, the rugid looking guy, who knows her, refuses to let her through. She gave a small whine in response but was cut off when one of the guys leaned over and handed the “gate keeper” two tickets to let her in. He gave a satisfied grunt and motioned of her to move forward. Instead Mari turns around to say thank you, only to be pushed past by a bunch of kids leaving the fun house and land into the tallest guy’s hands. She looked up slightly, but quickly turned around by the man and gently pushed to the entrance. She walked in still with the man’s hands on her shoulders. Once he removed his hands, possibly from distraction, she escaped into the maze of mirrors finding it bigger than it used to be. A giggle escaped her lips as she walked past a variety of mirrors changing her proportions. The loud men were getting near, Marinette decided to hide behind one of the mirrors watching as both men stood before her. The tall one has shaggy black hair styled back a bit, the other just slightly shorter has a broader and muscular tone in his upper portion of his body with a white streak from the front of his hair. The one thing they both had in common was those sparkling blue eyes, they were the most beautiful blue she had ever seen.

A bell rang, drawing the attention of the entire circus ground, telling them the show is about to begin. Mari quickly ran to the main tent diving into the back and put on her costume. Cole was in the dressing room already dressed in zir blue and purple leotard, dark blue shorts beaded in white gemstones, and a complimentary peacock broach that sat just center of zir chest. Marinette ran into the room panting, her costume was a red and black beaded with the same white gemstones outlining the black spots of her hips and check.

“You can’t keep running around. Where did you go?” Cole asked in a serious tone, but a smile escaping zir as she began to sign what she did. She turned around to let Cole tie her corset into place, making her gasp lightly. “We will be up in a few minutes, are you ready?” She nods. Cole and Marinette moved to the available slit of the back stage revealing the entire audience. The stands were almost filled leaving just enough room for the vendors to sell their popcorn and merchandises. Soon the ring leader steps out into the center of the ring and clears his throat, removing his hat to a bow.

“Thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen of Gotham, for joining our Once in a life time event!” He begins. “I hope you all will enjoy seeing out Kings and Queens of the night! Now with further adue! May the Mystry Circus open your mind!” He steps back of the center as the ring goes dark. Drums begin the fill the tent followed by a series of roars. Fire dancers’ step from behind the slit, lighting up the ring with their fire breathe. Throwing batons into the air, they blow fire from between their lips, catching the oiled ends of the batons on fire. They twirled them around with their dances. Soon lions entered the ring circling them climbing up on the stone clocks and hopped from one to the other following the flames as they get thrown into the air. The audience all gasped and oohed as they watched. Marinette watched until the music came to a stop. The pyro dancers held their now burned up batons giving a dramatic bow and signaled the lions back behind the curtains. Cole held onto Marinette’s hand assuring her everything will be good, she smiled softly as she kissed zir hand, then slipped out from behind the curtain to one of the dark sides of the arena. Cole follows moving across from her and nods.

“Magnificent! Our pyro dancers away know how to light up the night!” The ring leader exclaimed in the stands making the crowd beside him jump and squeal excitedly. “Next you shall be enchanted by this dance. Choreographed with aerobatics by our very own Lady Luck! Coccinella and Peacock!” Series of claps fill the stands as the spot lights move around to locate the two. Cole begins zir dace moving to the center of the ring with a silk rope handing there. Ze moves in a small ballet routine, chassé and begins to flip into the air. The white on the leotard shimmer against the light as a small red blurr suddenly appears flipping to the beat of the drum landing on one of the stone blocks close to the center of the stands. The lights move to the Lady of Luck exposing her bending backwards until her hands touch the stone. Peacock wraps the silk rope around his wrist and begin to dance with it, making the rope pull against him, causing it to begin to rotate and move around Coccinelle. She kicks herself up onto her hands the rope swings and wraps around her left leg then pulls her completely free from gravity. The dancers begin to move in a series of sequences as the rope leaves the group moving up to the platforms. Marinette moves once more wrapping the fabric around her leg and spreads out her arms, feeling the sensation of flight and freedom take over.

Cole decides to allow zirself to roll down, making Marinette to jump over him then grab the silk fabric and snap it to wrap around his body. She bounced the fabric rolling him up to zir small platform at the tip causing the audience once again gasp with excitement, then goes quiet. Cole yanks the bottom of the silk ze held on zir platform and smiled, ze yanks once more and Marinette is rolling down the silk fabric and lands on the platform giving a small wave to the crowd, receiving whistles and cheers. The ring leaders moves to the center of the ring under them.

                                        øøøø

Alfred had mentioned there would be a circus this Saturday. Dick was close to talking everyone to go. As long as everyone was prepared for anything that could happen, they would go. The whole week went by eventful, every possible villain rounded up in Arkham by Saturday afternoon. The batfam walked through the ticket booth with only two hours to kill before the show begins. Dick grabs Jason by his torn sleeve and tug him to the rides; Tim and Damian challenged each against the rigged games; as Selina, Bruce, Cass, and Alfred walked around. Tim wore his “Insomniac is Power” across it and Damian is wearing a grey plain turtle neck, played the shooting game. They betted twenty dollars on who can get the most clowns down. A small female walks over and stands on the corner of the game watching them play. She wore a black and red cloak hiding her just a bit of her body. Exposed was her petite body. She smiles happily as they both fought about who hit the most. The skinny red head game host pointed to the top of the area full of stuff animals and form swords. Damian points to the sword as Tim points to the big red bat. They move on to the ring toss game betting another ten dollars, the cloaked female followed them, but they didn’t care at the moment. Tim had difficulty holding the red bat when he threw so he handed the stuff animal to Marinette. He smiled to her catching her smile with a light blush to her cheeks. ~Wow what beautiful eyes.~ Tim thought briefly, then he went back to the game, winning another prize. He turns to give it to the female only to find her gone.

Jason spotted a cloaked female in the line of the fun house. Dick had dragged him over obviously excited to be here. ~Is it that cold here?~ Jason thought to himself. Jason missed parts of what Dick had said but laughed anyways, startling the female in front of them. The funny looking guy held up his hands refusing to let the girl in without a ticket. A sweet small whine escaped the girl’s lips urking Jason’s nerves, about to give the man a piece of his mind when Dick handed the guy two tickets, and he waved them inside. Dick thought the person was about to say something when a bunch of kids pushed passed the female knocking her into him. He gently took her shoulders turned her around, leading her to the entrance. She felt so light from in his hands. Jason said something which made Dick forget what he was doing and turned to look at him. Jason repeated challenging him to a race out. Dick nodded then turned around finding the small female gone; unbeknownst to him, she had slipped behind the mirror. Hearing the bells of the thirty minutes until show time, Jason thought he caught sight of the cloaked girl before she disappeared; all he remembers were her bluebell eyes.

As Jason and Dick meet at the exit at the same time, everyone was waiting for them to head to the main tent. They filled the third row of seats in the center of the arena, closet to the open ring. The only barrier between the people and the show were only stone blocks no more than 2 feet tall. The seats around them filled up fast, Jason and Damian ordered popcorn, and the lights go dark. When the lions came out with the dancers Cass moved to sit in Alfred’s lap to see. Dick was entranced with the second performance with Coccinelle and Peacock. The dance was breathe taking, when it was finished even Damian was on his feet clapping. The ring leader stepped back to the center grabbing everyone’s attention. 

“Wasn’t that amazing folks!” Everyone cheered. “For this next act I will need to request everyone to be as quiet as possible.” He placed his pointer finger over his mustached covered lip and waited as everyone go really quiet. “Above me are Coccinelle and Peacock. They will be their trapeze act just over two hundred feet high with no net.” He threw his hand into the air then backed up. Lights focused mainly on the two above as the music began to play. The drums created a suspense song after a set of eight counts, Coccinelle did a little dance throwing her beaded red and white foot into the air then ran to the edge giving a grande jeté with the swinging bar in hand. Dick gasps with his brothers when she swings across air and flips herself into the air catching next bar successfully. Selina gave a small chuckle at the boys, loving that they are all entertained. She flips herself back to the first bar and pushes herself onto her pelvis spreading her arms back out flying freely once more.

Peacock does a dance move, kicking his beaded blue and white foot into the air, then jumped to his bar, flipping into the air and catches Coccinelle’s hands. Her body didn’t move an inch from the catch, her body remaining in her flight position. Peacock moves the swing they are on, giving Coccinelle enough momentum to throw him to the second swing. Once he caught it, he made the act of falling, causing everyone in the audience to yelp, but he pulls himself back up and waves with a smile. He swings over to the third swing and flips once more in the air, doing a double flip landing in the swing on his feet. Tim, who normally doesn’t have interest in much, was hypnotized by the scene in front of him. Coccinelle shifted her body, moving her body in a dance like motion, flipping her body backwards, hooking her feet on the rope around the bar as the back of her knees press the bar, and bends up waving at the audience. Peacock made it to his main swing and caught a set of rings from the side helpers. He throws the rings into the air, catching each one as he swung. Cass clapped happily then quickly held onto Alfred’s arm watching closely to the rings. Coccinelle shifted her body to reach the rings from her side of the air, catching them from the helper and swings to throw them at Peacock. Just as they were about to do their last routine, Peacock stood on his plat form ready to throw it to the woman. Coccinelle, grabs the second swing, letting go of the the bar with her feet, then did a quad flip in the air grabbing the third swing effortlessly. This caused the everyone, the Waynes, to jump in their seats, catching their breathes.

                                         øøøø

A tug was felt on Marinette’s arm, she flung herself toward the fourth swing, just as Cole thrown it to her, not feeling anything this time. ~Maybe it was just my imagination.~ She shook her head and smiled, she begun to swing back jumping backwards to the third swing, feeling the tug again. Fear crossed her face, she started to sweat, losing her grip. Quickly she swung herself over to the second swing, when a stronger tug pulled on her. She quickly looked up hearing the rope begin to snap. She looked over to Cole and mouthed to zir; Ze panicked internally. Ze grabbed the bar ready to jump when she waved zir off, pointing to the ceiling. She didn’t realize she was signaling to a certain Wayne who began to panic in his seat. She takes a big gulp then looked around; the silk rope was close still. ~If I could just swing to that I’ll be safe.~ She processes her decision and lifted her body up, making the swing move, and as she was about to let go, the swing snapped.

                                            øøøø

A scream left the woman’s lips. Alfred quickly but unsuccessfully covered Cass’s eyes as Dick stood up ready to run to safe her. Todd held him down by his arm before he panics the entire tent. The batfam were all amped up ready to jump in if it wasn’t for the fact that Coccinelle had grabbed the silk rope just within one hundred feet from the ground. Her little body rolled into the fabric like a cocoon, and stopped just ten feet. The rope unrolled dropping the woman on her feet panting, she quickly calmed herself down, and threw her right up in the air giving a Salut. The audience cheers happily as the Waynes exhale the held breathes. Dick collapsed in his seat holding his head trying to call himself down.

Cass looked up to Alfred and signed to him. ‘I think she dislocated and broke her arm.’ He gave her a small nod turning her attention back to the show. Selina and Bruce were frozen in place but looked over at each other with their eyes having another private conversation. As the show came to a close, everyone had left the tent, Jason and Tim had to pick Dick up, carrying him on their shoulders as they walked out.

“That wasn’t planned.” Dick spoke Jason and Tim both nodded but they had to catch up to the family.

                                        øøøø

Cole ran to Mari who held her left arm to her side.

“Oh my god Mari! are you okay?!” She nodded with a weak smile and but ze obviously didn’t believe her. The ring leader walked up behind her and with a subtle pat on her left shoulder praising her performance. Missing the fact that she flinched heavily as she nodded with a smile.

“That was absolutely wonderful Cocco! You should do that again in the next town.” He chuckled and walked off. Cole grabbed Mari gently on her good arm and forced her out of the tent to look for the physician

________________________

To be continued…

Hehe

Thank you @starry-bi-sky and @zebrabaker to run off their AU and use their character Cole for this. I did accidently rewrite theirs, but I hope I didn’t disappoint.

#maribat #@starry-bi-sky #@zebrabaker #not soulmating :P #escape to the circus #mlb x dc

[awkwardbluefish]

A Roomate or Two

—

Summary: Jason isn’t happy with what they do with Tim. Especially after not what happened to him. I mean being tortured into a baby joker? Yeah that wouldn’t be fun.Not at all. So what if he has an extra person to look after? It should be fine.

Warnings: mentions of torture and panic attacks

A/n: @aloofwindbag inspired me with their magnificent drawing so enjoy!

—

Jason sees red when he sees Tim. He’s small, tiny really and that straight jacket? It engulfed him.

“Hey buddy,” Jason says and hauntingly sad green eyes meet his. The once blue eyes widen before the boy glances down, shuffles his feet.

“You don’t like me,” he whispers and Jason cringes.

Cause yeah, he didn’t like this kid. Before that is. When he was still fucked up by the Lazarus and he wasn’t right in the head. He still wasn’t right, didn’t think he’d ever be again but at least he had his goddamn head out of his ass now.

He coughs and shrugs, clicking at hinges and pulling off the hood. He hooks it under his arm and leans against the white wall behind it. “Eh that was in the past. You’re all right kid, better than Dickie, that’s for sure.”

He doesn’t miss the way Tim curls into himself at the name, well, nickname. Jason doesn’t narrow his eyes but it’s a damn close thing. What the hell did the golden boy do now? Well, he could take a guess.

Tim swallows and Jason eyes the stark white neck at the motion. Anger coils around his gut tight, just like a fuckin’ cobra. If Bruce has just ended that bastard, none of this would be happening. How many robins does he need to lose because he can’t break one rule that could save thousands?

“Bruce doesn’t think so,” comes the whisper and the trembling starts. His arm move under the fabric and he starts rocking.

“When does Bruce ever think?” Jason jokes. It falls to deaf ears. “Oi, replacement- what are you doing?! Stop that!”

Laughter spills from his chapped lips and Jason is rushing forward. The helmet clanks against white tiles as he shoves Tim to his chest. The boy trembles, green eyes wide as tears spill down his pale cheeks. His lips are stretched up into a tortured grin and Jason tugs the boy’s face into his shoulder.

He holds him and he holds him tight. The laughter echoes in the room, only stopping for a wet hiccup or two. Jason rocks them, hand fisted in a green hair. He feels sick, bile licking at the back of his throat. Tim doesn’t belong here.

And he’s going to get him fuckin’ out.

—

Jason has more nightmares and Tim notices. He tried so damn hard to keep them down, to kick them the fuck out of his head. That hadn’t work.

He should’ve known Tim wouldn’t sleep well. It’s should’ve been obvious, obvious like the sky is blue and waters wet. And yet now he’s tracking the little shit through Gotham, on the first night god damn it, keeping an eye out for a pipsqueak with sickly green hair.

It takes two fuckin’ hours and now he knows why Alfred is basically bold. All of his hair is going to go white and this point. He isn’t even twenty five yet dammit.

Jason pointedly makes noise as he walks into the alley. Tim flinches before relaxing as the cat bumps their head under his chin. Well shoot, that’s just cute ain’t it?

“Looks like I found two runaways,” He drawls and Tim peers up at him under long murky hair.

He ducks again, avoiding Jason’s eyes. He huffs and moves forward, plonking himself on his ass, on most likely pissed on ground, to be closer to the kid. The things he does for the little runt.

The black cat hisses at him, ears flattened and fur on end. “Shove it,” Jason tells it wisely just as Tim soothes the little kitten with soft whispers.

It’s quiet for a while but then again Jason wasn’t ever one for patience. “I know why you ran,” he informs the boy and Tim tenses, refusing to meet his eye, “and frankly it’s a load of bullshit.”

“I have nightmares of that fucker, not you Tim. Joker did this to me, to us and you are not responsible for it at all. I have nightmares, yeah I’m man enough to admit it and so does everyone. I just got to get the fuck over it.”

Jason’s had enough of this sappy bullshit so he heaved himself up, patting down his butt because it’s wet and it hasn’t rained at all today. He just hopes he didn’t sat in piss. That wouldn’t be fun.

“C’mon kid. It’s one in the morning but I’m craving pancakes so we’re freakin’ getting some.” He informs them and he sees Tim smile. It’s small but it’s genuine. It’s his own smile, not one that was forcefully carved onto his face. Jason decides to ignore the mushy feeling in his chest. Yep, no need for that.

He makes a move to stand, freezing when the kitten mewls loudly in protest, claws digging into white pants. Tim freezes while Jason makes a mental note to go shopping. Yeah, that might be a good idea.

“Are you and the feline coming or what?” He grumbles, smirking when the look of shock and restrained joy crosses the kids face.

“We’re keeping her?” He asks and of course the little nerd would already know the cats gender. Jason most likely wouldn’t of even checked.

“She’s fiesty,” he tells him, hooking an arm around the boys waist and pulling the two tight to his person. “I like it.”

—

Jason’s watching the two passed out on his worn out white couch when he gets the call. He should have been expecting it, because of course they would know.

He makes sure he’s away from the brats before he accepts it. He doesn’t want to wake them up, and he doesn’t want Tim to hear this. Because whatever goes down Jason knows he’s not going to like it, not one fuckin’ bit.

“Where is he.” Bruce demands as soon as he answers. Jason rolls his eyes, leaning against the fire escape and rolling a ciggie between his lips.

He sucks the cancer in, letting it out slowly. He can feel Bruce’s impatience over the phone. Good, he thinks, let the fucker wait for a bit.

“Well hello to you to,” He drawls out lazily, uncaringly. He would rather be watching the two strays sleeping, it was- dare he say it- nice watching them both relax. Ew, he’s gone soft. Gross.

“Where is he.” He growls again and Jason smirks, he likes making him angry. It’s the least he deserves.

“I haven’t a clue of who you’re talking about,” Jason informs him, eyeing the wonderful view. A brick wall right in front of his apartment, how lucky can a guy get?

“I’m not playing games Jason,” Bruce begins, voice low and growled. “Where is Tim?” Bruce apparently isn’t playing around, and isn’t that a bummer. Because Jason isn’t either.

“Why the fuck do you want to know?” He cuts in, fingers tightening around the railway. He doesn’t want to get rid of the disposable phone just yet. He needs to hear Bruce’s so called excuse.

Bruce sighs like he’s just a kid and doesn’t know what he is doing. Well fuck you, he’s an adult now. He can do whatever the duck he wants.

“Tim is under my care,” Jason doesn’t let him finish.

“And is that why you chucked him in Arkham? Some caretaker you are,” He sneers, nice and low. The cobra is back and this time it’s ready to go in for the kill.

“Tim went through a lot,” and here comes the bullshitting, “he needs help and Arkham can give him that.”

Jason barks out a laugh, loud in the night. “You’re one of the richest men alive! You could hire anyone to help him and yet you throw him in Arkham with the crazies and expect him to be a okay?!”

“I didn’t say that-“ Bruce is angry but Jason? He’s fucking pissed.

“Exactly! You didn’t say any of that when you should have! They had him in a stray jacket and locked up like he’s a killer! You aren’t helping him Bruce, you’re pushing him away in the worst damn way possible.”

There’s blaring silence at his yell and Jason grits his teeth. He drops the ciggie and crushes it with his foot, kicking it over the balcony after.

“I know,” Bruce finally says. It’s said quietly, in a low murmur. “I failed him, I failed both of you. This is all my fault.”

“Get over yourself Bruce,” Jason snaps, “this isn’t about you and your self deprecation shit. This is about Tim, and Tim only. When you finally get your arse out of your angsty crack then we might be able to talk. Might.”

The hangs up right after, physically shaking. He always had to make it about him huh? It’s always about his failures, his mistakes. What about the people he failed? He never truly thought about that.

He scruffs a hand over his face and drags it down. He needs to go on eBay or some shot to get some furniture and nerd stuff.

He throws the phone, watching in satisfaction as it smashes against brick wall before tumbling down. Have fun tracking that old man.

It’s warmer in the house which is nice. It doesn’t feel as lonely anymore. He goes back to the lounge, flipping onto his armchair with a huff.

A tail flickers and a yellow eye flares at him as Tim stirs at the sound. Jason snorts. “Yeah, yeah you little shit. I’ll keep it down.”

A yellow slitted eye glower at him a second longer before closing and Jason resists groaning. He’ll have to get shit for the damn cat too, dang it.

Maybe he can get Barbara to help with that. She could give him Bruce’s credit card and his information. Yeah, that’ll work.

—

“Why did you do that?” Jason asks quietly, desperately.

He holds the soaked boy to his chest as he wraps his hands in a white bandage. His fists are split and purple, painfully bruised.

Tim doesn’t answer and Jason sighs, tying the bandage. He buries his nose in green hair, taking in the scent of fresh coconut.

They’re sat in the bathroom, glass cracked and splintered around them. Tim is shaking, staring at a piece of glass with unseeing eyes.

Jason tears his gaze away, understanding and guilt knowing on his chest. It looks just like him, with the green hair and eyes. Tim’s blood is smeared on it, making a bloody grin. Tim doesn’t see himself when he looks in the mirror, he sees the joker.

“I got some left over black hair dye,” Jason says quietly and Tim just nods, eyes haunted and desperate. Jason holds him a little bit closer.

—

They cut his hair first.

It’s a mangled heap and it genuinely looks like a birds nest. Jason knows the brushing has too hurt, because seriously, how couldn’t it?

Tim doesn’t even flinch though. That doesn’t settle right with Jason so he apologises after every yank and after every tangle is cleared. Tim accepts it with a small amused smile but his eyes? They remained haunted and empty.

—

According to Glamour it’s a good thing Tim’s hair hasn’t been washed in a couple of days. Jason thinks otherwise but he keeps that to himself as he starts the process of dying. Heh.

First Jason lathers the dye in his hands, snickering at the sound it makes. Tim smiles slightly at him, a small twitch of the lips.

He applies the dye half an inch away from Tim’s scalp. He massages his locks and slowly made his way towards the ends of the locks. After a bit he goes back and cover the roots, smiling when Tim finally began to relax into his hands like putty.

At least he’s finally getting comfortable.

—

“Tim- Tim oh my god,” Jason is saying and the little nerd is just giggling at him. “Tim stop, stop look at this little shit!”

Tim lets out an hilarious snort that Jason would have loved to film but he’s too busy gaping at the prancing little shit in front of them.

She- that damn cat- was red! Red! “I let her on my couch, oh my god Tim I let her on my couch.”

Tim looses it, curling into himself as Babs, the newly named orange cat, climbs up his back and curls around his neck. A yellow eye peers into Jason’s soul and Jason swears the thing is smirking.

“Tim, Tim my couch is white. White.”

—

“Is he safe?” Is the first thing he hears when he answers the call.

Jason sighs into the receiver, adjusting the mobile to fit more comfortably against his ear. His hands were loaded with shopping bags. At least he’s taken his helmet off. Yes, yes he did go shopping as Red Hood. Fuck You, he does what he wants.

“That depends,” he says, heaving ten grocery bags onto the counter. He glances behind him, smiling when a soft snort reached his ears. “Do you consider me safe?”

“You’re better than half of the people in Gotham,” Barbara tells him, voice laced with anger and annoyance. Jason knows it’s not at him, it’s at this damn city. The damn world.

“You’re too sweet to me,” Jason informs her, ruffling through the bags and taking out the freezer stuff.

“I know, and I’ll continue to be if you take care of Tim.” Barbara says simply. There’s ruffling on the other end and he guesses she’s in bed.

He silent for a moment, shoving the meat and frozen peas away. “You know I will,” he finally says, “as long as you and Alfie come visit of course.”

“What about Dick?” She asks and Jason slams the freezer shut accidentally. “...I’m guessing that’s a no.”

He cringes as a warning meow and and a flick of a tail is directed at him over the couch. Yeah, he deserves that one.

“Of course it’s a fuckin’ no. He did nothing to stop Bruce from putting Tim in Arkham. Hell, he didn’t even go to find Tim with you guys on that night. He not getting near him in a 10 mile radius or I’m kicking his arse.” Jason curses and Barbara laughs slightly.

“Watch your language,” she teases and just like that the mood is lighter. Just a bit. “You got a kid in the house now.”

“Fuck you,” Jason wisely replies back, slotting the drinks into the fridge. He shuts the door quietly, well aware of the Brady yellow eyes aimed at the back of neck. “And for your information I have a kid and a cat in the house, so suck it.”

“Wait-,” Jason snickers at the sudden ruffling, placing the biscuits and chips into the cabinet. “You guys have a cat? Since when?”

“Since Tim ran away because he thought he was the reason for my nightmares. Found the brat in the alley with the stray. She was black Barbara, then she was red. I let her on my couch, my couch.”

Barbara is chuckling softly, clearly amused at Jason’s distress. “The next thing you know she’ll be going purple,” she teases and Jason scowls, folding up the bags and sticking them in the bottom draw.

“I was prepared this time. I got a blanket on the couch, nice try little fucker.” He declares proudly, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the couch. Babs stares at him before curling into Tim’s chest happily.

“Please tell me you didn’t call it little fucker.” Barbara says despairingly and Jason smirks.

“Nope!” He sings.

“What’d you call it then?” She asks and Jason grins. She’s just gonna have to wait.

“You’re gonna have to wait my dear,” he teases and Barbara groans, “you shall know when you come visit!”

She laughs at that and Jason can imagine her shaking her head. “You tease, okay then. You’ll have the money by tomorrow morning so try to get everything sorted out then, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jason murmurs, smiling softly. Oh god, he’s gone soft. How gross.

—

“Tim, tim please stop! It’s just lightning, he’s not here!” Jason says desperately, holding Tim wrists to stop him from scratching at himself.

Tim just screams, tears streaming down his pale cheeks, eyes screwed up and chin trembling. Spit bubbles past his lips when he sobs out a hiccup, fighting desperately against his memories.

Jason doesn’t know what to do so he holds him tight in his arms. His forearms are soon bleeding, scratched at by nails that are far too long and dirty. It stings but he doesn’t complain, just holding tight.

Babs watch them warily from the couch, tail flickering in concern as Jason begins rocking them back and forth. Thunder clashes and Tim screams again, sobbing harder and shaking his head.

“It’s just thunder,” Jason reassures, rocking them softly. “It just thunder. You’re okay Timmy, you’re with me and Babs. You’re home,” he whispers.

Tim doesn’t seem to hear him but Jason repeats it like a mantra. The storm rages on for another four hours. Tim only slackens into his arms after three.

Neither of them sleep that night.

—

“I’m sorry,” Tim says as daylight flickers in through the glass door of the fire escape.

Jason shakes his head, running a hand through his new raven and greasy locks. “You never have to apologise for being scared. Never. Just remembered you’re safe here, no one will ever hurt you here.”

The boy nods and Jason holds him tighter, both watching as the shadows are chased to the corners of the apartment. Babs craws into Tim’s lap and licks at his chin.

“You’re home.” Jason repeats and this time Tim hears it. He nods.

—

“You still wanna be a vigilante?” Jason asks, flipping an egg.

Tim nods fiercely and strong and Jason sighs in amusement. He plates the egg on some toast and slides it across the bench to Tim.

“I do. I won’t kill, I won’t. Not- not again.” He murmurs and Jason nods, reaching over to ruffle his raven locks before going over to turn off the stove. He bats Babs away from the pan as he does.

“I don’t expect you to,” Jason says and then, “do you have a name?”

“Outlast.”

#tim drake #jason todd #dc #barbara gordon #batfamily #batsiblings #batbrothers #mine #my writing

[iphoenixrising]

Jealous dami?

Well babe. Well…

(Post Dr!Tim: Arkham Breakout)

**

Bats echo overhead, and Robin grinds his teeth when Todd tells him to get off the comm wave, they will be taking care of Dr. Drake after the events of the escape from Arkham. It’s most irritating.

Father is still out in the city, wrapping up loose ends of the night, and taking a final patrol swing to work out his remaining aggression. it is not surprising as Dr. Drake has apparently endeared himself to them all.

Pennyworth is tisking when Grayson and Todd refuse to bring the trauma surgeon to the Manor, opting instead to tend to him in his penthouse Perch themselves. The irritant here is Pennyworth not insisting they return to the Cave where the doctor will have the best chances for successful recovery.

Tt.

“Very good, Sir. Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to call. Agent A out,” a raised eyebrow at him does nothing to soften his mood. “As for you, Master Damian, I’m afraid Master Jason is correct as you do have school in in the morning. Best to get a few hours.”

He throws his hands up in frustration but starts upstairs without a fight. He’s already out of the mask for the night, pauses a moment to let Titus and Alfred the Cat in his room before he closes the door. He absolutely pulls out his laptop and fires it up as he slides under the covers.

Hacking into the camera in Drake’s penthouse is simple enough that he really should say something to Todd and Grayson, but enjoys the convenience of easy access.

Alfred nudges himself in Dami’s lap. With a sigh, he pushes the laptop further up on the bed so the cat will lay down and settle while the camera feed loads.

The black screen queues with Grayson and the Todd moving through the window, and huddled in Grayson’s arms is their Doctor. Dami’s eyes narrow critically, looking at the stains on the side of the scrubs, obvious bruises and raw skin. 

Regardless of how bravely some inmates reported Timothy acted, the events had taken their toll. He is slumped in Grayson’s arms while his vigilante brothers talk over his head, Todd already pulling the large first-aid kit out from under the sink.

Of course, their physician regains enough of himself to walk down the hallway on his own steam, waving a careless hand over his shoulder, making Dami fairly seethe when Todd and Grayson remain in the kitchen, talking with one another rather than immediately follow.

Drake was in an accident, was thrown from and ambulance, has withstood the likes of the Joker, Scarecrow, Ventriloquist, Clock King, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, various thugs, henchmen, thieves, murderers, and raving lunatics. He should be made to rest and his wounds immediately treated. As per his usual behaviors, he should be fed something calorie-laden and put to bed.

He would need to be lectured extensively about the consequences of dealing with Gotham’s underbelly, told he could no longer go to Arkham, that he would need to be safe. 

There is no safety in Arkham, and only more danger to be had associating with even more connections to criminals.

(Honestly. Do they not recall who stopped the first group of ninjas to catch on to Drake’s importance to the Bats? Taking those ninjas, beaten beyond recognition, straight back to the Demon’s Head had definitely sent a message. Annoying his mother was simply an added benefit.)

Before Drake stumbles blindly into another catastrophe, Todd and Grayson need to learn to care for him better.

Sliding down in his bed, he leaves the screen on to see the bathroom door open, steam roll out from the recent shower and catching those two finally doing something right. 

Grayson is drying his hair while Todd treats the injuries. He yawns and rolls on his side, dislodging Alfred the cat.  She gives a series of kitten chirps and hops down while Titus circles around on his bed by the door and flops down with a heavy sigh.  

His eyes are bleary and thoughts syrupy, pouting and half-asleep as Todd gets to insist by just manhandling Drake, and the two get to effectively bracket their doctor in on the sofa until he goes limp, also almost asleep.

Damian doesn’t finally drop off until Drake is finally asleep, being carried gently down the hall toward the bedroom while Grayson turned off the television and the lights, follows with a yawn, and pulling his shirt off as he goes.

When the door on the screen closes, he can reach out with a flailing hand and to push the laptop closed.

He can fade into sleep, the strain from containing the madness of Arkham sliding off to leave a teenage vigilante with a violent past and a need for redemption trying to get enough sleep to pretend in the so-called “normal life.” One with a mask that doesn’t suit him as well as Robin’s.

And if his last thought before he finally drops off, one that could possibly be something to the tune of  

–Tt. I would care for him better– 

then he would be able to justify it in the morning with excuses of sleep-deprivation and effects from the consistent mental strain he gets every day just by dealing with his family. 

(Of course he is prone to spontaneous nonsense. Has anyone ever met Grayson?)

And as he’s pressed, dressed, and already riding to school in the back of the Rolls, checking his phone for traces of Shauna Belzer’s movement after breaking in to a locker room at a bus station in Midtown, he absolutely, resolutely convinces himself that Drake is simply an exemplary civilian that has certainly earned his respect if nothing else. If circumstances has been somehow different, then Damian could safely admit Drake would look stunning in Nomac, Kevlar, and leather beside them, making plans, and fighting against the worst elements humanity can offer.

He can admit to himself that Drake is simply one of the family now, so of course he would be more concerned over their doctor’s health, safety, and sanity more than another random civilian.

He can breathe deep and bid Pennyworth good-bye, put on another mask as the son of Bruce Wayne, can wade through the crowd at Gotham Academy and draw every eye in the place. 

He can multitask, school work with an acceptable amount of participation, count the hours until he could check the live feed again and make sure his vigilante brothers and their doctor were up and moving.

He can put on the mask later that night, the gold R gleaming on his chest, and fall feather light to crouch on the balcony of the Perch. He can jimmie the door without knocking and scare the hell out of Drake without really trying. 

Before his own patrol, he can assure himself of the doctor’s well-being, saying he’s being a good vigilante, a good brother to Todd and Grayson. He can say the coffee he makes and the sandwich he painstakingly puts together are just making certain their resident physician is in peak health to deal with them when he is useful.

He can be satisfied when he leaves because at least one of them lectured the doctor with a wagging finger and utter sincerity.

“Stop making it hard to protect you. Honestly, Drake. You cannot associate with those we are trying to fight!”

“I’ll try, Dami, but we’ve had this conversation.”

He can say these things in no way prove he finds the doctor ... enticing or alluring in any way whatsoever.

He can justify it in all ways, from all angles possible, but after the day’s (and night’s) work is done, and he’s riding the edge of sleep yet again, the thought comes back to haunt him just enough to be satisfied enough–

–to sleep.

#winter answers #dr!tim #damian wayne #unrequited feelings #tim drake #ficlets #civilian!Tim #the doctor has hobbies #apparently so does Robin #my writing

[jasontoddiefor]

Robin’s Requirement’s Chapter 1 / 2

In which Bruce is not okay, Jason is dead and Robin #3 is magic, literally.

He woke up to pain. Ants crawled over his back, nails dug into his wounds, and the weight of the sky pressed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. Bruce supposed it said a lot about himself that he didn’t even bother to look at the time or the bottle he picked up from the nightstand before a handful of pills disappeared down his throat. His bedroom was light already. By Bruce’s estimation, it was around eleven, maybe even twelve.

He’d been out late last night, hunting down what he thought might be Scarecrow’s new supply chain and he hadn’t been back in the Cave before six or so. He hadn’t been anywhere close conscious when the Batmobile had arrived home. Alfred must have gotten him out of the suit and into his bed.

Bruce couldn’t even recall the last time he hadn’t just fallen asleep in the Cave’s med bay. It was just more practical. Why bother going upstairs (going past that room) when Bruce could also just stay in the Cave. Alfred brought him food and everything else Batman needed was down there either way. He had no use for the life upstairs.

The painkillers kicked in.

It didn’t get easier to breathe.

Atlas’s burden didn’t lessen.

Bruce sat up and observed his surroundings. He was still in the manor, that much he could tell from the view out of the window, but he wasn’t in his bedroom.

Going by the clear view Bruce had of the pool, he was in a room on the west side, the other side of the manor. Getting him here while he was unconscious must have been a lot of work, it was a much longer walk from the Cave to the west side.

Alfred should have just left him downstairs.

Bruce pushed the soft blanket off himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He had to hand it to Alfred, he’d prepared the good stuff for him. Last night’s beating had been harsh and Alfred usually disapproved of Bruce taking their experimental pain killers with his other meds, but there was no other way Bruce could keep going. He had to move forward for as long as he could until his body finally gave out and Bruce was allowed to go.

Bruce stood up and used the bedpost to catch his balance. He remained like that for a couple minutes, or so it felt, then headed for the chair standing next to his bed and picked up the red bathrobe hanging from the back of the chair. Slowly he put it on, keen on not aggravating his wounds any further. He might not be able to feel the pain anymore, but that didn’t mean his injuries wouldn’t let him bleed out.

His bandages were still a pristine white at least, no blood sickering through. Bruce walked over to the door. If he remembered last night’s investigation completely, Scarecrow would meet his new benefactors tonight at the docks. Bruce should check the place out beforehand, bug it too maybe. He used to be faster than this. Tracking down a villain, especially Scarecrow, had never taken as long as it did this time. Perhaps he should force the Arkham staff to chip their inmates, it would undoubtedly make life easier for everyone involved.

Bruce reached for the door handle, only to pull back his hand in the last moment as the door opened and he came face to face with Alfred, who was carrying a tray with a breakfast in one hand and a suit with the other.

“Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted, pushing past Bruce into the room, acting completely oblivious to the fact that Bruce had been attempting to leave.

It would be one of those days then.

Scowling, Bruce stood at the entrance, refusing to move. He had crucial matters to tend to, he couldn’t indulge Alfred now, but he wasn’t about to storm out of the room like an upset teenager throwing a tantrum.

“I’ve prepared a light breakfast for you. Peppermint tea and vegetable soup. You will finish this bowl and then get dressed.”

Alfred set the tray on the small table and put the suit - the Brioni. Bruce didn’t know what for. He hadn’t worn a suit in half a year, maybe longer.

“I’m not going out today, Alfred,” Bruce said. “I have a case.”

“You always have a case,” Alfred replied, a sharp edge to his voice.

Bruce narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “So? They’re important.”

“Beating a group of men so badly they could die on the way to the hospital is important? The morning papers sure had some interesting things to say about that.”

Bruce could feel the fires simmering beneath his skin. Alfred didn’t know, he hadn’t been there, hadn’t had to witness-

“They didn’t die. And you didn’t hear what they were planning to do to that kid,” Bruce replied.

“No, I did not, but I believe I know you and you are not doing yourself a favor spending twenty-four hours a day dressed as a bat.”

“You don’t understand, I-”

“Nearly flatlined thrice beneath my hands yesterday. Had you arrived at the Cave even just a second later, you would have been dead. I made a promise to your parents. You wouldn’t die on my watch and I refuse to support any matter that gets you killed any longer.”

At the end of his speech, Alfred was breathing heavily. His words echoed in Bruce’s mind.

Flatlined.

You would have been dead.

All of it would have been over. Just like that. No more fighting, no more struggles, no more nightmares, he’d just-

“The board of Wayne Enterprises is holding a meeting concerning the plans to begin rebuilding the Narrows,” Alfred continued. His breathing evened. “Many of your board members oppose it, and as the acting head of the company, you should attend if you want a say in how the project goes. Lucius is already busy discussing the Kane Chemical deal in Metropolis.”

With those words, Alfred turned around, marching out of the room and leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts.

Bruce hadn’t been to WE in a while. Lucius had it handled. He did well, negotiating contracts and deals and kicking out a whole lot of ignorant people and hiring some of the recent college graduates. Bruce had kept an eye on things, somewhat. He trusted Lucius, and besides, if he didn’t have to look after WE, he had more time to spend on the streets.

But the Narrows… That project had been going on ever since Bruce had taken over the company. It never moved forward because so many who could afford to live well protested against it.

Bruce sighed and sat down at the table. It was just one meeting, he could do it. Use the time to re-energize at the office so he’d be prepared for tonight. Bruce reached for the spoon and began to eat the soup.

It tasted like cardboard.

X

His plan had been to get in and out of the building as fast as possible using the back entrance and private elevator, but that didn’t work out. Someone spotted him in the garage and within minutes the whole office knew that Bruce Wayne had shown his face in public for the first time since the-

In a while.

The elevator had been full of over-eager people, all trying to subtly catch a glance of Bruce Wayne, hoping to discover which online article had managed to grasp Bruce’s character the best.

They’d see a non-interested man typing away on his phone, dressed in an elegant suit wearing shoes worth more than their salary, a Rolex watch, and a high color hiding away anything scandalous or exciting.

A secret affair, the newspaper would scream in the morning. Out all night partying again!

And if someone in heels managed to spot the make-up he had put on, they’d expect a hickey.

Nobody would think of bruises and stab wounds, ribs showing through.

Bruce Wayne, the ideal man.

Batman wanted to kill him.

He was glad when the elevator pinged and Bruce could finally escape the awkward space. The meeting had started ten minutes ago, so he was late, but not outlandishly so. It wasn’t like the board wasn’t already used to Bruce never being on time. The past decade had been filled with hasty emails, changing schedules, running into meetings late or having to leave early because he had to go to school for-

His office was on the same floor as the conference room. He passed it, and his secretary Caroline’s desk. The red-haired woman looked up in surprise when she saw him, but didn’t move from her spot.

He’d gotten plenty of cards in the past, but Caroline’s was one of the few he had actually bothered to read and reply to. Usually, her daughter would be sitting beside her right now, coloring in her art book, but Monica had started school in September.

Bruce nodded at Caroline, then moved towards the conference room. He opened the glass door and was greeted by the sight of Lucius looking one more sentence away from jumping straight out of the window.

“-and it’s not like anything worthwhile ever gets out of the Narrows!”

Sharp nails dug into the palm of his hands. Bruce wanted to throw a punch, make something, maybe even himself, bleed. He shouldn’t have come.

“Nothing worthwhile.”

The words were out of Bruce’s mouth faster than he could think. The noise made all heads turn to him, surprised faces stared at the man caught in-between the entrance.

“Mr. Wayne!” Gerry Thipson startled and immediately began to sweat.

Good.

He must be aware of how out of line his comment had been.

“We weren’t expecting you,” Thipson continued, glancing at his fellow board members.

“The funding of this project is very dear to me,” Bruce said and closed the door behind himself.

The seat at the end of the table was left vacant, Bruce’s usual absence even more present. Bruce purposefully took his time getting there, enjoying how Thipson started to shrink in his own seat.

“Never mind its importance for our city. Wayne Enterprises has always worked to improve every part of Gotham - and the Narrows need it more than every other part.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair and folded his fingers together.

“The district is criminally underfunded, the schools hardly have enough money to pay the teachers, never mind buy equipment for the students. If we’re not going to change anything, nobody will, and we’ll lose even more bright lights in those streets. Or do you think differently, Mr. Thipson?”

Thipson sat up straight as if he had heard his name at roll call.

“Of course not, Mr. Wayne. But the numbers-”

Bruce stared at Thipson. Numbers. Really.

Did he know how many homeless lived on those streets? How many children had to skip school. How many had died-

“Wayne Enterprises is a transnational cooperation that can afford to pay us quite handsomely and I certainly don’t need another yacht this year if it means getting a handful of kids through High School, or do you?”

There existed no word capable of grasping how much Bruce wanted Thipson to say another word disagreeing with Bruce. He itched for a confrontation, for a fight. But Thipson and all the other board members stayed silent, some of them smiling while the majority was carrying their rage on the tip of their tongues.

Trash.

Maybe Bruce should show up at WE more often again. Just often enough that he could chase these people out of his company, out of Gotham.

“I thought so. Well, then, Lucius, how far are we actually with the Narrows Project?”

Lucius being looking through his papers, handing a couple of them to Bruce. The man’s brown eyes lingered on Bruce’s frame and for all his exhaustion, he looked relieved.

“We started with purchasing all the abandoned buildings down Napier street, but we haven’t started tearing them down yet.”

Lucius kept going, and every disgruntled sigh was met with a glare. Bruce would pay closer attention now to the people he had hired. He was well aware of what a mighty opponent greed and hubris were (and how much you pay for it) and he wouldn’t let it continue where he could and should prevent it.

X

By the time Bruce returned home, the afternoon had already come and gone, as, despite summer’s long-lasting heat and days, autumn quickly made itself known with its early evenings and cold. He had loosened his tie in the car and thrown his jacket on the passenger seat. The pain killers had worn off halfway through the meeting and Bruce was fairly sure he was bleeding through his bandages.

He parked the car in the garage and made his way up to the Cave entrance. He could redo his stitches and bandages by himself and he really didn’t feel like entering the manor again. Today’s trip to the office had been more than enough. Alfred was undoubtedly preparing dinner already. He’d have to eat it by himself, Bruce didn’t think he could stomach it. Nausea had been flaring up every once in a while and only water and herbal tea had actually stayed down.

At the touch of a button, a strategically placed bookcase opened to reveal a hidden passage. The manor had many of these secret paths built into it. His father used to tell him that they had been constructed for emergency evacuations or swift servants that shouldn’t be seen. It had been easy enough to add another entrance to the Cave to these passages.

Bruce rarely took the main entrance to the Cave nowadays. It was ridiculous anyway, sliding down a pole like a child.

As usual, the Cave lit up as soon as Bruce stepped inside and all electronics powered up. It didn’t take them longer than one uniform change to be up and running. Time, Bruce knew, was essential. One second too slow and you watch your life-

Bruce headed for the med bay. He took off his shirt and while the bandages were still a neat white at the outermost layer, taking that off revealed red fabric. With iron discipline, Bruce unwrapped his whole torso and then used the bandages to put pressure on the bleeding wound as he fetched himself needle and thread. Combined with another dose of painkillers, sewing the wound shut was much easier than going to WE today. Bruce examined the wound below his ribs and scowled. It would most likely scar and he wasn’t sure he had the patience to deal with Alfred’s disapproval once he noticed.

Once he was finished treating himself, Bruce took his seat in front of the computer, reviewing the information he had gathered in the past weeks. He already knew the deal would go down at the docks tonight, but he’d been unable to pin down which one of Scarecrow’s minions would be there for the exchange. They were all probably on the other end of seriously dangerous. Scarecrow hadn’t been out of Arkham for long, which meant he hadn’t had the time to train his minions properly or earn enough cash selling his Fear Toxin to Gotham’s underground. All his hired goons were going to be too scared of Scarecrow turning on him to actually risk their lives for the job.

Bruce continued researching the meeting place, relistening to the audio files he had acquired while getting stabbed in the ribs. He replayed them once, twice, and nearly a third time, but his common sense stopped him. There was only so much you could gather from such a short exchange as he had listened to.

Satisfied with his gathered intel, though it would have been significantly better if he had gone out this morning too, Bruce headed for his suits. He walked past the Case and for the first time since he had put it up, he didn’t freeze up but could continue his path.

It felt like progress, or something similar enough to it.

He did a quick inventory for his utility belt, restocking batarangs and knock out gas, then changed into his suit and got into the Batmobile. Out of his rear window, he could see Alfred entering the Cave.

Bruce didn’t stay long enough to see what kind of expression the butler made.

X

Batman left the Batmobile parked down at the shores of one of the rivers running through the city. It was hard to spot it there, but the car could still reach him fast enough if needed. He had another two hours left before the deal went down, which gave him enough time for another small patrol.

The City Hall district was known for its white-collar crimes, nothing Batman could really reach with his fists. Nevertheless, it was never as silent as tonight. It made Batman frown, discontent settled deeply in his chest. Gotham was never silent or calm or peaceful. This ugly city couldn’t rest, not even for a night and yet…

There was something in the air Batman couldn’t pinpoint and it put him on edge.

As the time of the deal drew closer, Batman crossed the rooftops over to the docks, checking out the area. After checking that nobody interesting was lingering outside of the warehouses, Batman began heading for the right one.

The hired goons he had spied on had said they’d meet up at the very end of the long strip, in one of the warehouses the big families used to cover up their drugs. Scarecrow didn’t usually deal with the crime families, choosing to pick less dangerous targets. He must have been desperate for money. Finding a way into the building was easier than Batman had expected, so he searched for a strategically smart place to sit and wait.

It took roughly an hour before anyone showed up. Expensive suit, cheap cigarettes, and slicked back black hair - Maroni’s youngest, his friends carrying two bags. Money, it had to be. 

Maroni didn’t work with any of Gotham’s proper villains. He regarded them as rude annoyances with no honor to speak of. This must be a solo trip of the youngest then - was he trying to steal his older brother’s spot as the heir or establish his own leverage?

Batman didn’t have to wait for long for the next group to arrive. As expected, Scarecrow didn’t show up with many people, merely two guards wearing gas masks.

“Scarecrow,” Maroni began to speak. “I thought we had an agreement.”

“We did,” Jonathan Crane replied. “I’m just not going to stick to it. Now!”

Far quicker than Maroni’s boys could raise their guns, Scarecrow’s men threw modified smoke bombs their way, releasing the fear gas.

Batman put on his rebreather, covering his mouth, and jumped down from his hiding spot. Maroni began to scream once they spotted him. They still had their guns and it was too late to neutralize the effects of the gas, he had to work quickly.

Batman rushed in, grabbing the first one and breaking his arm. His gun dropped to the ground. Then he reached for the next one, shattered hand. Number three he knocked out with a punch to his right temple. Maroni himself he pushed to the ground face first, kicking away his gun in one swift move.

“Batman! Get him!”

Scarecrow’s men both jumped Batman at the same time, far too skilled for random street thugs. Maybe Scarecrow had had more cash hidden than Batman had assumed.

The Rogue in question, meanwhile, was getting away with the cash.

Batman snarled, but he couldn’t shake the two attackers away quickly enough. He’d lose Scarecrow and there was no telling what he’d do with so much cash.

Then, red blurred at the corner of Bruce’s eyes and something threw itself at Scarecrow. The man crashed to the ground, money going flying.

He tried to get up again but was stopped by a kid, dressed like a traffic light, jumping on his back.

His rebreather must have stopped working, Bruce thought. He’d inhaled some of the gas, he must have.

“You- you’re- You’re dead!” Scarecrow screeched. “The Clown said so! Who are you?”

The kid shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way.

“The name’s Robin,” the kid said with Dick’s smirk and Jason’s accent. Bruce felt ice crawl up his veins. “Always has been, Straw man.”

He was going to throw up.

#dc #dc comics #lego batman #bruce wayne #tim drake #Alfred Pennyworth #fanfic #robin's requirements

[violetsmoak]

Tabula Rasa [2/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183281/chapters/47822500

Blanket Disclaimer:

Summary: Tim and Jason have known they are soulmates for years, though neither has said anything about it. Tim thinks Jason doesn’t know, and is just trying to live with it. Jason thinks Tim knows but doesn’t care, which is fine with him, he thinks the soulmate thing is a crock anyway. But one night, a minor mishap forces them to confront the issue head-on, leading to a series of events no one could have predicted.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #bright vivid colours #danger #enemies to lovers #soulmate aversion #soulmark tattoo

First Chapter

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

Tim is exhausted.

It’s not the semi-permanent fatigue he’s been living with ever since becoming a vigilante, the ‘constantly tired about something’ background noise of his life. It’s more of an utter doneness with everything.

His head is pulsing like someone took an icepick to his left eye and punched through to his brain stem, and he’s got a bit of fever. Damian’s cat bit him in the early hours of dawn when he stopped by the Cave to drop off some intel. It’s taking his antibiotics longer to kick in than he’d like.

He’s been in meetings since seven this morning discussing the next year’s budget, sitting across the boardroom from the old guard of shareholders and Bruce. Bruce, who’s been attending more of these meetings in the past month with the implied goal of scrutinizing every move Tim makes. He spent hours today grilling Tim on every judgment call, made him argue for every cent of allocated funds and second-guessed projects months in the making.

And then the board members—even those who disliked Bruce—joined in and it was like a fucking ambush.

Tim didn’t even have someone in his corner to give him five minutes of breathing room, and he’s never missed Tam so much as at that moment. But she asked to transfer to a different department not long after the whole faking her father’s death thing. Tim doesn’t want to call her in for matters he should be able to handle himself.

Kon’s canceled their plans to hang out this weekend because he forgot his and Cassie’s anniversary. It was meant to be a videogame and junk food fueled marathon, and Tim had been looking forward to it for two weeks now. It’s the third time this month they’ve had to call rain check.

Though to be fair the last two instances were because I got dragged into something Bat related and time-sensitive.

At this point, all he wants it to get home, eat a whole pizza himself and sleep for at least eight hours. He’s even picking out toppings as he heads for his car in the employee parking lot.

So, of course, that’s when the notification system on his phone chimes. Patched into the GCPD frequencies, he’s informed that Killer Croc is rampaging in the University District.

And at City Hall?

Crash!

And apparently now in the WE Building.

“What the hell?”

The lingering staff members scream and flee to their offices, barricading themselves in as the growling, pebble-skinned thing bursts out of the nearby stairwell.

Okay, that’s not Killer Croc, but it looks a heck of a lot like him. Maybe shorter.

The elevator bell dings, opening on an empty car, drawing the snarling man-shaped beast’s attention. It makes an immediate run for Tim, who backs into the elevator and glances upward; there’s a cage across the ceiling to block access to the ceiling panels, the spaced between the metal lats wide enough to reach his fingers through.

He bends and jumps up, swearing at the bite of metal as he grabs hold of the grille, just as the creature barrels into the elevator. Tim uses the momentum to plow his knee into the creature’s jaw.

Its head snaps backward, blood spraying as it bites down on its tongue, but it doesn’t pass out as Tim had hoped. Right as it’s gearing up to take another run at Tim, there’s thwip! sound and two darts lodge themselves in its throat from somewhere outside.

The croc-person goes rigid and passes out. A moment later, Bruce strolls down the hallway toward him as casually as if he’s heading to dinner. He folds a compact knockout dark gun back into his breast pocket. Luckily for them, all of the doors remain shut tight and there are no windows for the other employees to see any of this.

“What did you hit him with?” Tim wants to know.

“Carfentanil,” Bruce replies, stepping over the unconscious body and reaching for the thumbprint scanner at the bottom of the elevator panel. “Lucius will see to that one.”

He engages the override to skip every floor on the way down to the sub-basement.

“What’s going on?”

“Based on Batgirl’s intel, some idealistic grad student wanting to change the world. She believed the best way to kick-start the proletarian revolution was to mix Waylon Jones’ DNA with a version of Langstrom’s prototype serums, test it out on the homeless and then release them in various locations considered to be bourgeoisie strongholds of Gotham.”

Tim blinks at that. “Eat the rich?”

“Somehow I doubt that’s what Rousseau meant.”

The elevator vibrates as it speeds downward, and Bruce considers Tim out of the corner of his eye. “How long has it been since you slept?”

Twenty-three hours.

“I’m fine, B.”

“You were nodding off during the presentation by Powers Tech.”

“Because Warrick Powers is a pedantic drone that’s rehashing all of the same proposals he made last month. Even you were playing Candy Crush on your phone for half of it.”

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change. “Anyone going out tonight has to be at their best. Killer Croc is a challenge on a good day, but Oracle’s saying there have been a dozen sightings of these hybrids—”

“All the more reason you need me out there,” Tim cuts him off. As the door to the elevator opens, he strides away before Bruce can offer reason he doesn’t want Tim going out tonight. He’s been questioned enough today at work, he refuses to be called out on his night job.

Things go from weird to complicated to unbelievable within hours. As it turns out, Killer Croc is involved…but he’s working with them for once. Red Hood’s voice comes over the comms early on to caution everyone not to go after him unless he makes a move on a civilian.

“Arsenal vouches for him,” he insists, and things are so crazy no one has time to argue with him. Everyone separates into their various zones, though corralling the croc-man-bat hybrids often has them overlapping with one another.

It takes all night.

By the time the last of the test-subjects has been subdued, ready for transport to a treatment facility, dawn is just peeking over the edges of the buildings. Tim’s body aches like one big bruise. He’s got something bigger than a cat bite that needs treatment, and if his head hurt before, now it’s like his brain is bubbling out of his skull.

Everyone has checked in, which is a relief, but everyone sounds like they’ve been put through the wringer. Those that Tim can see look even worse.

Batman is on the ground, conversing with Commissioner Gordon, and from the way he’s standing, it’s clear he’s taken some damage to his ribs. On a rooftop in the distance, Tim can see Robin with his arms crossed, cape in ruins and shoulders hunched inward. He doesn’t have to see the kid’s face to know he’s scowling. Beside him, Red Hood is laughing, helmet missing and body armor ratty and torn. Tim taps his visor to magnify his vision. Hood’s entire left arm-sleeve is gone, along with the gauntlet, and he’s bleeding from a wound above his bicep.

But he doesn’t seem bothered by it. He even reaches out to ruffle Robin’s hair, then easily dodges the knife the kid swipes at him. There’s a flicker of relief that flits through Tim to see him unharmed.

Despite their past, despite the fact Jason avoids him, Tim still tries to stay hopeful about the whole thing. It’s possible things will get better and they can be friends one day, or at least tolerate each other in the way Jason and Damian do. He could handle that.

“Well that was fun,” Steph groans, dropping down beside Tim on his chosen rooftop. “I need to sleep for the next six weeks, though.”

“What are you, a groundhog?” Duke quips, alighting on the other side of him.

“If it gets me out of midterms, hell yes. Just…not the same day over and over thing.”

“I don’t understand,” Cass sighs. “Either of you.”

The usual post-Arkham-level emergency banter starts up, all snarky jokes and witty rejoinders and Tim’s just…not in the mood.

“I’ve got a final sweep to do before turning in,” he mutters. He doesn’t care if anyone hears him as he hops over the edge of the building and grapples away. There’s some chatter and questions in his ear, but he ignores it.

His adrenaline from the night’s activities is dropping, and the exhaustion he was experiencing earlier in the day is hitting him like a Mac truck. He doesn’t even want the pizza anymore, just the sleep.

There’s a dreamlike quality to the way he sways through the air like he’s not actually present in the moment. Perhaps he’ll skip the last leg of patrol too, tonight. And he can write the incident report up tomorrow, and—

Right as he hits the highest arc of his swing, there’s a snap and sudden give to his line.

It should be an automatic thing, hauling out his redundant grapple gun and fixing it to a new anchor point. This is all about timing, a practiced movement all of them trained for before Bruce even let them out of the cave.

And yet.

It’s as if time slows for just a moment.

As if he has all the time in the world to contemplate the intricacies of each separate action, the pull of his muscles and movements of his fingers. Or even the ramifications of simply letting himself fall.

For that one moment, Tim isn’t Red Robin or Tim Drake-Wayne or any number of things he’s supposed to be, he’s just. There. Existing in a void of sound and sensation, adrenaline blocking it all out, weightless and empty.

Floating.

A sudden desperate wish hits him to freeze everything like this, at this high-point forever. To stay forever frozen in the peace of a not-quite-flight.

Gravity pulls at him then, making his stomach flip, and he reaches for the redundant grapple, even as he realizes he’s too slow. The air rushes past him, the ground rises to meet him and he’s still drawing out the line, and it will be too late—

As he’s about to hit to point of no return, something clasps around his arm and yanks. Someone wrenches Tim up and forward, a hand grasping his whole forearm in a vicelike grip and it’s reflex for his fingers to clasp around it. Warmth tingles in his fingers and radiates the entirety of his arm, like laying his hand on his own personal sun. As they swing through the air, Tim’s eyes fall upon the literal lifeline that saved him.

The first thing he sees is a swirl of red and gold, the familiar winding knotwork pattern of his soulmark.

Except it’s not his.

Jason’s left arm and shoulder are bare, the mark blossoming seemingly out of nowhere halfway up his forearm. But Tim recognizes the uneven streak of hastily applied cover-up from wrist to elbow-crease—because it turns out, Jason covers his mark at all times as Bruce does.

The warmth in Tim’s hand and arm grow, stretching tendrils of heat through his body, but it burns the most where he and Jason touch. Steph once described the sensation as a lock and key interlinking, and he finally understands because there is a very physical click inside him, like tumblers slamming into place.

It’s distantly familiar, and he wonders if he might have experienced this before, but couldn’t focus on it due to being bleeding out at the time. The way their marks reach and wind about each other now, Tim doesn’t believe there’s any way for it to be ignored anymore.

His heart flutters at the idea.

Then Jason is swinging them to the nearest rooftop and abruptly lets Tim go, snatching his hand back the instant his boots hit the gravel. Tim stumbles forward, barely stopping himself from tumbling to his knees from the momentum.

He skids around to face Jason, who is already turning away, shielding the mark. When he faces Tim again, the colors recede once more beneath the spray cover-up.

“Geeze, Replacement. You gettin’ enough sleep?” he asks lightly, mouth crooked. “You almost let yourself become pavement art.”

Tim blinks, still a little lost in his head.

“I mean, I’m sure you could have engaged those tacky wings of yours before the worst happened, but cuttin’ it kind of close, don’t ya think?”

Tim’s not really thinking anything. His eyes are on Jason’s arm, where the colors of his mark have already slipped away. Because Jason is putting a very conspicuous space between them. And asking something inane, as if he’s trying to distract him.

Which he shouldn’t be doing.

He saw the mark. He would have felt what Tim felt. It should be a shock, he should be confused or angry or surprised—

Tim freezes in realization.

“You’re not surprised,” he says, the words somehow disconnected from his mouth.

“Surprised about what?”

Tim bristles at Jason’s feigned ignorance now, indignation rekindling some of his spark. “Seriously? You’re just going to—you’re really going to pretend we both didn’t see that? That we both don’t know…?”

“I think that fight rattled you,” Jason says, slow and placating. “How many times did you get hit in the head tonight?”

“You didn’t even flinch!” Tim snaps, taking a step forward. “If you hadn’t known, it would have surprised you! You might have dropped me, or yelled, or…”

Jason is backing away now, not even trying to disguise his intention and Tim darts forward, hand snatching to grab hold of Jason’s wrist. Incredible gold and deep scarlet bands of color creep up his left arm, threading along the capillaries of his skin, connecting the freckles and scars across his bare arm. There’s a corresponding warmth in Tim’s right wrist and arm.

Before either design can fully manifest, though, Jason snatches his hand back and punches Tim in the chest.

“I’m not a fan of handsy guys,” he says, though his joke is lost in the ice of his tone.

Tim barely reacts to the blow, because he’s had worse from Jason, and right now, he’s honestly too furious to register it.

“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” he accuses.

“Knew what—?”

“Don’t! Don’t lie! You’ve known—you had to have known ever since the day we met, at the Tower!” There is no argument this time, only a head-on gaze. “And you never said anything.”

“Well, it’s not like you did either,” Jason defends, discomfort coloring each word.

And there’s the confirmation; it’s more of a blow to the gut than Jason’s punch. It’s an aching, gnawing hurt, and Tim tries to tamp it down, tries to focus more on the simmering rage that is welling up alongside it.

“Because I didn’t think yours had activated,” he manages to get out. “At the time I didn’t think you were capable of…I thought if I said anything, you’d…you hated me then, and—” Comprehension smacks into him. “That’s why you didn’t bring it up, isn’t it? And then the other night, when I said all that. About soulmates. You knew what I thought about it, and that’s why you didn’t say anything.”

Jason coughs, backing away again. “Okay, glad we cleared that up.”

“If you’d said something—if you’d even acknowledged it, maybe—”

“‘Maybe’ what?” Jason challenges. “We’d magically be on track for a house and picket fence and adopting our own passel of neglected orphans?”

“Wait!”

“Yeah, no, I’m over this—”

“Jason, don’t—” He reaches out once more, hand clamping down on his shoulder and in his madness, he’s forgotten everything he knows about Jason and personal space. It all comes back in a rush when he’s suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun.

“I said I’m done,” Jason growls, and Tim swallows reflexively.

Slowly, carefully, he takes a step back.

Jason doesn’t move right away, simply stares at him, then the gun in his hand, which he lowers after a breath.

The tension doesn’t leave his shoulders though.

“This whole soulmate thing is some bullshit,” Jason snarls at last. “I hope you’ve got another option on the other arm, Drake, because I ain’t it. And I want shit-all to do with you. Follow me, and I’ll shoot you.”

He leaps from the building, and a beat later Tim watches him swing away between the skyscrapers.

It takes a while to remember how to breathe, more because of the crushed glass sensation in his throat than of any fear Jason would have shot him.

The rejection isn’t unexpected.

Honestly, it’s like a door being closed on something he hoped for even when he tried not to. There’s a finality to it that should be cathartic even.

It doesn’t hurt any less.

Well. At least now I know for sure.

Really, it’s a relief. He knew Jason didn’t like him, but he kept fooling himself with hope and occasional daydreams. And now he can’t anymore, and that’s that. It isn’t like losing Robin or no one believing him about Bruce or butting heads with Ra’s; those had workarounds. This, though, soulmates…it’s not something that can be learned or memorized or forced into being.

Time to move on.

Because Tim doesn’t get to be happy.

Body on autopilot, he returns to the Nest and sees to any obvious wounds. He concentrates on careful stitching, and then on meticulously writing up his report on the night’s events. No need to mention his argument with Jason. Tonight’s going to take his strongest sleeping pills and painkiller, he decides, the kind that will keep him from dreaming.

He considers not setting an alarm for the next morning—surely he deserves a day off, doesn’t he? Considering everything that’s happened today?

No. That would make it too easy to dwell on this, to mope. Work will keep him busy.

And he has to stay busy.

He’s meticulous about following his routine for the next few days. Immersing himself in new product designs, revising by-laws, defending more of his decisions from Bruce’s nitpicking, volunteering down at the Neon Knights shelters. He visits the remaining Titans, spends time with old school friends in Gotham and goes through the motions with his family. Outwardly it’s working but it all seems…hollow. It doesn’t sit right. Something is missing and he knows exactly what it is but can’t do anything about it.

With every fake smile and encounter with the paparazzi, always being the reliable one and having to think and plan everything through to the tiniest detail. It’s exhausting as ever.

And by night, he throws himself into every fight that comes his way.

He very deliberately avoids looking for Jason.

And it’s fine.

Really.

But at the oddest moments of the day, either at work or diving into the middle of a brawl, he remembers that crystalline moment, just after his line missed. When he was just…floating.

Tim knows that’s not a good sign, knows that he isn’t in the best headspace right now. He thinks of reaching out to Dick, the way he always does when it gets bad. He wants to tell him everything that’s going on with his day and night work, wants to admit the truth about his soulmate—

Then he remembers Dick is on his honeymoon and he doesn’t want to bother him and Barbara over this. So he heads to the manor because Alfred is always a willing ear and wise counsel. And Bruce might be making his life misery at work, but he can always be counted on to have some cases that could benefit from a second pair of eyes.

Except when he gets there, Damian informs him that Alfred is driving Bruce to some political fundraiser.

“It seems you made a wasted trip, Drake. Perhaps next time call ahead and spare yourself the trouble,” he drawls from his seat at Bruce’s desk where he’s sketching, Titus curled at his feet. The dog lifts his head and wags his tail when he sees Tim, but otherwise doesn’t move. “I’d show you to the door, but that would require me to care.”

“Always a pleasure, demon boy,” Tim sighs and sets off down the hall. He decides to take a nap in his old room; at least here the place isn’t as empty as his apartment. Damian might not be the best company, but he’s another human being within his vicinity.

Sort of.

As it turns out, Cass is still home. He can hear her laughing at something in the family room, followed by Steph’s familiar guffaws. As he passes by, he sees that they’re curled up together on the couch, arguing over the Netflix selection.

Steph catches sight of him and calls out. “Hey! When did you get here, Former Boy Wonder?”

“Uh, ten minutes ago,” he replies, leaning against the doorframe. It hits him immediately that he’s just interrupted a date night, so he doesn’t make a move to enter.

However, Cass’s all-seeing eyes rove over him and she purses her lips.

“Come and sit,” she tells him. “We have Krispy Kreme.”

“And Cass bought ketchup chips at her layover in Montreal.”

Normally the lure of donuts and chips would have him vault across the room and settle on the couch, but tonight the idea of food makes his stomach rebel.

“I might just go get some coffee,” he replies, trying to back away.

“Do that later,” Cass orders. “Stay for a bit.”

“I don’t want to interrupt anything…”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Steph rolls her eyes. “Except our weekly argument about what we should watch. Besides, we haven’t seen you since the croc-mutants thing.”

“How’s your head?” Tim asks, giving a mental sigh of defeat and shuffling into the room. Steph sustained a pretty bad concussion that day.

 “Still having dizzy spells and can’t move too fast,” she replies. “The ushe.”

Tim doesn’t take a seat on the couch, though, instead sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table and dutifully taking a handful of chips. They don’t taste like anything.

Cass is frowning at him. “You okay?”

“Just tired,” Tim says, forcing what he hopes is a comforting smile. It’s not a lie, not really, but he doesn’t intend to tell her exactly what’s making him tired.

Cass accepts it, though she continues to eye him with concern. He does his best to distract her by suggesting a film he knows both of them hate, forcing another round of arguments about viewing choices.

They really don’t seem to mind him being there, and for a little while, everything’s alright. They throw popcorn at each other and complain about Bruce’s uptightness and gossip about their respective villain drama and mock each other for failing at their New Years Resolutions after only three weeks. 

Eventually the girls become engrossed in the movie. Of course, it’s one of the token soulmate plotlines that he immediately skips over on the rare nights he has time to watch television. And Tim becomes more and more conscious of how Steph and Cass lean into one another. Cass’s fingers run through Steph’s hair and Steph hides her face in Cass’s neck when a truly cringe-worthy sappy scene comes up.

They look so…content.

Happy.

At peace.

I’m never going to have that, Tim realizes and it’s this that makes his stomach twist, want to throw up and scream and cry.

Because he’s always been alone, but there’s always been that lingering hope that one day he wouldn’t be. That even if it wasn’t a romantic soulmate relationship, he’d still have someone.

Everyone he has loved has left him behind; even the one person in the world who was never supposed to.

“What would you have done?” he finds himself asking, staring at the screen where the male and female lead are mired in their stereotypical big-misunderstanding-fueled fight. They hurl words at each other that they obviously don’t mean but were clearly written to be devastating.

Cass and Steph look up, both somewhat startled by his question.

“What would we have done for what?” Steph wonders.

“If Cass had hated you. Or if Steph had hated you.”

Both their faces go blank. Cass’s mouth turns downward as if she is puzzling out a difficult question, while Steph shudders. “I can’t even imagine it.”

“Me neither,” Cass adds.

Tim hums, having expected that answer even if it doesn’t help him.

“Hey—what are you so worried about?” Steph asks, nudging his shoulder with her foot. “It’s a big world. It’s not your fault or the end of the world that your soulmate died.”

 Tim’s hand strays to his wrist. He’s covered it up around anyone in the Family since he woke up and learned that Jason Todd had almost killed him. As far as Steph or anyone in the family is concerned, he no longer has a mark.

“You can still have fulfilling relationships,” Steph goes on. “You know, if you get over your secretive and control-freak ways and your tendency to eat Hawaiian pizza.”

Tim snorts. “Says the girl who would eat waffles every meal of the day.”

“Hey, that’s a valid meal choice—do you realize how many different types of savory waffles are out there?”

“No wonder you’re beginning to spill out of your uniform,” Damian’s voice disdains from the doorway. Titus lopes at the boy’s heels. “You and Cain have been colonizing the couch for three hours now. I intend to play Inquisition without your hovering, so leave.”

“You mean you intend to spend three hours on character creation before getting stuck in the Hinterlands for the next week and finally throwing the controller at the screen in frustration and not touching the game again for another month?” Tim asks.

“If I want your input, Drake, I’ll—” Damian considers. “I’ll never want your input. Now shut up and stay out of it. Brown, I demand you all vacate the room immediately or I will force you to.”

“Rude.”

“Eleven televisions on this floor,” Cass adds. “One in your room, even.”

“This one has the best resolution for gaming. You go to one of the other ones. You’re not doing anything important in here.”

“There’s nothing more important than Netflix and chill with the boo,” Steph replies. She’s playing with her phone and then chuckles, angling it so Cass can see, earning a bright laugh in return.

Damian looks disgusted. “I sincerely hope when I meet my soulmate, I am not so ridiculous about it as you two, or Grayson.”

“We are not ridiculous,” Cass replies. “We are normal.”

There’s immeasurable pleasure in that word; Tim knows it’s not often she gets to use it in relation to herself. Once again he thinks himself a complete tool for being jealous of her and Steph.

“Hopefully I will take after Father,” Damian continues, sitting in the armchair across from them.

“Emotionally stunted and anal-retentive?” Steph suggests, earning snorts of laughter from everyone but the blood scion of Wayne.

“In terms of soulmates,” Damian emphasizes; Tim notices he didn’t bother correcting Steph’s assessment of Bruce. “I will not make a total fool over the person I have been assigned.”

“First of all, soulmates aren’t assigned,” Steph says, “and second, B is totally foolish over Selina. Why else does she never get sent to jail? And what do you call Alfred putting up with his bull after all these years?”

“Tt. Perhaps you have a point.” Damian seems to reconsider, before glancing at Tim with a frown.  “I suppose in this, you’ve had some luck, Drake.”

That brings him up short, both the implied compliment and the sentiment behind it. “…How?”

“Your soulmate is dead.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence in the room.

“Damian!” Steph cries, sitting up and dislodging Cass’s fingers to stare at him in horror. “You can’t say stuff like that!”

“Why not? It’s true.”

Now would be the time to correct everyone. Tim doesn’t bother.

“That’s not—I meant you shouldn’t wish your soulmate was dead, especially since you haven’t even met them yet.”

“I hope I never do,” Damian insists. “Look at Drake—his soulmate cannot be exploited as a weakness by some clever criminal. He will never have to lie about his identity if the individual turns out to have questionable morals—consider how long Father was forced to hide his identity from Catwoman. And Drake is now free to pursue or avoid any relationship he wishes, without having to worry it will be interrupted by the untimely arrival of a soulmate.” His expression smooths a little, becoming more thoughtful than petulant. “He is free in a way none of us are.”

Cass tilts her head to one side. “That is oddly…insightful of you.”

“And really kind of depressing,” Steph groans.

“And my cue to leave,” Tim says, standing. He forces an easy tone. “If Damian starts envying me, the Apocalypse must be about to start. I should get an early start to patrol just in case.”

“No, Tim! Stay—see what you did, Damian? Apologize.”

“That’s not happening.”

“It’s fine,” Tim dismisses, already leaving the room. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Be careful,” Cass cautions, her tone somehow knowing.

Tim flees before she decides to really focus on him, but not before Steph can hurry out after him.

“Hey, ignore what he said,” his ex-girlfriend says, looking both worried and intent at the same time. “He’s never had a soulmate, so he doesn’t understand how serious it is to say something like that.”

“No…it’s actually fine,” Tim assures her.

In fact, far from being insulted by Damian’s words, Tim finds himself latching on to them and the logic they represent. The last thing he wants to be is that cautionary tale, like the kid people pity who shuts down his whole life because their crush didn’t like them back.

“Are you sure?” Steph asks. “Because Cass is right, you don’t look okay tonight.”

“I really am just tired,” he insists once again. “I think I’ll skip patrol tonight. Get some sleep.”

She lets out a relieved puff of breath. “Well, that’s something at least.”

“Enjoy your movie—or your impending war with Damian over rights to the family room. Whatever.”

“Oh, he’s in for it if he tries,” Steph smiles a truly fiendish smile, similar to the one she turns on criminals before she breaks their jaw. “Night, Tim.”

“Night.”

He continues on his way to his room, while Steph turns back to the family room. She pauses though, and says, “I was thinking…if she did? Hate me, I mean?”

Tim turns his head to acknowledge her.

“I’d probably still stick around nearby,” Steph says; she rubs at her shoulder, clearly discomfited by the idea. “Just to make sure she was happy, I guess? It’d give me peace of mind, even if I couldn’t be with her. You know?”

Tim’s carefully maintained façade of functionality wavers a little. His eyes soften a bit and he offers Steph a small smile. “I do. Good thing you’ll never have to worry about that, right?”

“Yeah…”

They exchange bittersweet smiles for a moment. Tim bets she’s remembering the day it became clear she and Tim wouldn’t ever be anything more than friends. Then Steph disappears into the family room.

Tim strolls down the corridor to his quarters, frowning with a new resolve. He doesn’t have it in him to stick around and make sure Jason is alright and happy; he can’t even think about the situation without the growing lump in his throat slicing into him.

So, it’s best to focus on filling his life with other pursuits.

From that point on, he renews his goal to immerse himself in work.

WE by day and Red Robin by night. He loads up case after case, reasoning his way through elaborate mental games with villains and rogues, and sends in work for his correspondence courses at Ivy University.

He exists on coffee and sleeping pills and four hours of sleep a night, but he’s too exhausted to fixate, and that’s the important part.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

This blog isn’t my primary, so my reblogs don’t show up very well. As such, please reblog the fic, otherwise not a lot of people are going to see it :)

<3 Violet

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #jaytimbingo2019 #fanfic #jaytim fic #batfic #prompt: soulmate #tim drake #jason todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #damian wayne #a lie #bright vivid colors #danger #enemies to lovers #soulmate aversion #soulmark tattoo #angst #drama #romance #introspection #pining

[heroicadventurists]

Teen Titans # 26 Recap & Review **SPOILERS**

Issue # 26 picks up directly after they escape the collapsing building.  Robin takes the team to the Batcave because his source (i.e Red Hood) on the Other has been compromised.  To even the score, they are going to steal the most powerful weapon in Batman’s arsenal…information. Robin tasks Roundhouse with hacking into the Batcomputer so they have full backdoor access to Batman’s criminal database. With that said, Robin leaves the team to handle something upstairs.  The team is upset that Robin is once again keeping secrets from the team, and to Red Arrow’s frustration, Djinn is missing.  Crush tries to cover for her by lying & saying Djinn was checking the perimeter.

At this point of the story, I’ll start referring to everyone by their real names because at the core of it, this issue is about family.  Not the batfamily but the Wayne family. 

Upstairs, Damian is walking the halls of the manor when he stops in front of his Paternal Grandparent’s portrait.  He ponders on how they are the reason Batman exists; but to him they are just faces on the wall.  While he’s thinking, Alfred comes up from behind him.  Damian wasn’t expecting Alfred to be home as he usually has tea on Saturday mornings with his friend Arune. 

Alfred mentions that they have been concerned for him.  Damian shrugs off any concerns from Bruce.  At this point the pleasantries are over and Alfred tells Damian that he should not take things that do not belong to him.  Damian tries to deny it but Alfred does not let up.  Whatever he took has the ability to hurt Jason and Alfred will not allow him to leave with it.  At this, Damian gets angry and asks Alfred why he is defending Jason.  Alfred responds that Jason is his brother and he would not allow any of them to hurt each other.

At this point an alarm goes off signifying an intruder in the cave.  Damian tells Alfred he should check on it but he refuses and says the situation is being handled.  We switch to the Teen Titans standing at the Batcomputer while Batman watches from above.  At this point he attacks, leaving the Teen Titans scrambling.

Back to Alfred and Damian.  Damian tells Alfred to get out of his way & he was going to do what his Father should have done to Jason.  Alfred points his secret agent umbrella at Damian and tells him that Jason has always struggled to figure out his role in this family and he believes that Jason is still struggling with his identity. 

He tells Damian to talk to Jason and that what he perceives as malice might just be miscommunication. Damian tells Alfred he’s not going to fight him in which Alfred responds that he sounds like Bruce.  He said he could never protect Bruce from himself and some lessons are meant to be learnt the hard way.  Damian calls Bruce a fool for the way he has treated the criminals in Gotham and when Alfred tries to rebuke that sentiment, Damian yells “BULL…..this obsession with the moral high ground is why we are losing.  They hit low, we need to hit lower” “If chaos is what it takes to clean the slate then so be it.  We can rebuild from the rubble”.   At this point, Alfred says he not like Bruce…he sounds like Ra’s.  With those words, Damian walks off, passing by portraits of the family, including Jason & Dick.  He pauses to stare at the family portrait over the fire place before moving on. 

As he’s walking back down to the cave, we see that Djinn has been following him.

Back in the cave, the Teen Titans are losing to Batman.  When Robin shows up, he cuts his head off with a sword.  It was a robot.  Djinn shows up at this moment and Red Arrow asks where she has been. She said she attempted to discover the source of the alarm but Red Arrow says she left before the alarm went off.  Djinn tells her she is mistaken.  Roundhouse informs the team that he has created a back door into the batcomputer and they leave.

Robin is in his secret prison when Red Arrow shows up.  She stops Black Mask from stabbing him.  As they walk, she tells Robin that she told him working with Red Hood was a bad idea.  He defends his decision saying the information he was providing was good.  And she responds “until it wasn’t”.  Robin said that he has always known Red Hood’s true nature but he thought……He couldn’t finish the words.  Red Arrow states that he promised they would take down The Other when she joined the team.  Robin pulls out a box and says Red Hood will no longer be a problem.

My thoughts…..Damian is in a sunken place.  I honestly didn’t have a problem with the prison because he’s right, Arkham is not cutting it.  Him having a prison is no different from Superman having the Phantom Zone. Damian’s main problem is being disconnected from his family.  He’s not talking to Bruce, Dick doesn’t have his memories and now he’s upset with Jason.  Tim is in Metropolis with his reformed team running around as Robin 2.0 and I have no idea what Duke is doing (who has been shown to get along well with Damian). You can tell he’s hurt at the thought of Jason betraying him.  He couldn’t even tell Red Arrow why he thought Jason would never betray him.  He didn’t think it was possible b/c he’s his brother.  With Bruce and Dick no longer being active in his life, he was hoping Jason could fill that void as his older brother.  I think he’s so disillusioned by family right now he’s not listening to Alfred or giving Jason the benefit of a doubt. 

Djinn is a possible suspect as a mole.  Djinn has been highly suspect the last couple of issues.  I’m not saying it’s malicious (someone else could literally be controlling her right now) but she is not trustworthy.  She is playing Damian and Crush.  The only person who sees through her charade is Red Arrow and she scared her straight. 

Robin also has to consider that he has a prison at his base of operations.  One of them may be the informant. 

Lastly Jason could have just gotten some bad intel, meaning no harm to Damian or his team.  Alfred tried to warn him that he will regret what he’s about to do to Jason. When the truth comes out he probably will regret it because Jason was the only family he was in constant communication with.  This issue just proves that Damian needs his family in his life, especially Bruce, because he is going down the wrong path. I didn’t see it at first but now I do.  Thankfully we only have to wait 5 days before we conclude this Jason issue.

Rating 1-7

Storyline 6-Good

Artwork 6-Good

Overall 6-Good

#dc comics #dc #batman #bruce wayne #robin #jason todd #dick grayson #nightwing #red hood #damian wayne #tim drake #teen titans #red robin #duke thomas #signal #alfred pennyworth #djinn #red arrow #emiko queen #crush #roundhouse #kid flash #wallace west #batfamily #batfam #batbros #batboys

[mizmahlia]

Jason, Meet John Constantine

I saw this post yesterday about Jason. The OP (asexualarkhamknight) put the idea out there that since Jason died and came back, he’s able to see ghosts and other non-living beings. One day John Constantine shows up to exorcise a demon and remarks that he’s never seen so many spirits drawn to someone before.

Of course my brain went ‘WRITE SOMETHING IMMEDIATELY’, so here we are.

This is my first attempt at writing John Constantine, so beware. There’s a mention of some blood, but nothing graphic, and a swear word or two.

Tim was the first to notice it.

Jason hadn’t been back that long, maybe eight months, when they encountered each other at a crime scene. Jason was already there wrapping things up when Tim arrived. He acknowledged Tim with a nod. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tim said, approaching carefully. There was a tentative truce happening at the moment and he didn’t want to stir things up. “Want any help?” Jason yanked on the end of the flex cuffs around the man’s wrists, tightening them painfully. The guy he had pinned to the ground hissed. “Watch it, prick! That hurts!” Jason dug his knee in harder, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at him. “Tell that to the woman you attacked, asshole.” Tim heard muffled crying from somewhere behind him and went to check it out, carefully peering around the corner. A young woman was huddled on the ground, clutching her coat against her chest and crying. Tim approached slowly, making noise so she could hear him. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?” She sniffled and looked up at him, shaking her head. “N-no. I’m okay. My roommate is coming to get me once the cops get here.” Tim went back to where Jason was standing only to find him staring at something. His posture was rigid and he’d removed his helmet. Behind the domino, his eyes were wide and he was holding his breath. He stopped beside Jason and turned to see what he was looking at but saw nothing but the darkness and shadows in the alley. “Hood?” Tim asked quietly. Tim’s voice seemed to shake him out of his trance and Jason cleared his throat loudly. “You got this? I need to be somewhere.” “Sure. You call GCPD?” Jason nodded and put his helmet back on, grappling up and disappearing. Tim took one last glance at what Jason had been staring at but saw nothing. He knew Jason wasn’t at one hundred percent at the moment (why would he be, after everything he’d been through), but he had a feeling whatever Jason saw was real enough to actually scare him. And that frightened Tim, just a little.

Weeks later Dick was the next to observe the strange behavior.

He climbed to the roof of the Arkham medical facility, heaving himself up over the edge and laying on his back for a moment trying to catch his breath. He and Jason finished clearing the building of rioters when Jason disappeared suddenly.  Dick knew where he’d be; they all tended to seek some altitude when things got rough and Jason was no exception. He was sitting on the roof facing Gotham Bay, staring into the night sky. It was only about an hour until dawn, so it wasn’t nearly as dark as it had been when the riot first started. Dick could see Jason’s helmet sitting a few feet from him, seemingly ripped off and tossed aside, based on the scuff marks. Jason tensed momentarily and reached into his jacket as Dick approached, but relaxed when Dick sat next to him. He kept about two feet of space between them; according to Tim, Jason startled easily these days. It was like he was somewhere else. “You okay? I turned around and you were gone.” Jason’s jaw clenched and he closed his eyes. “I’m fine.” Dick nodded and turned his face out to the water, breathing deeply. “You know you can talk to me if you need to, right?” Jason tilted his head down, his eyes still closed. “Just back off,” he muttered. Dick got the distinct impression Jason wasn’t talking to him so he waited patiently. Moments later Jason opened his eyes and looked at him. Even in the darkness Dick could see how bloodshot Jason’s eyes were. “None of you can help with this.” “Little Wing, we might not have been through what you have, but there are still ways we can help…” Jason interrupted, his voice tired and weary. “That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s okay. Just... don’t worry about it.” Not wanting to push Jason any further, Dick let it go. They sat next to each other for a few more minutes. At several points Jason turned and looked over his shoulder, grimacing before looking out at the bay again. Dick said nothing but watched with a great deal of concern. They were in no danger of anyone coming up behind them, yet Jason kept glancing back as if he were expecting someone. “Do you see something back there, Jay?” Dick’s question clearly rattled him because Jason shuddered violently. He leaned back and grabbed his helmet before climbing to his feet. “You don’t wanna know.” He took off sprinting for the edge of the roof, diving off the edge before firing his grapple. Dick stared out over the water. Whatever Jason was seeing definitely had him spooked. And it was unnerving to see Jason afraid of anything, let alone something that wasn’t really there.

Bruce was next. He convinced Jason to meet him at a diner for breakfast and a long-overdue conversation. They were sitting across from each other in a booth by the window, talking about anything and everything except what happened to Jason in the warehouse and after. Jason barely touched any of his food and had already drained three cups of coffee. He was staring out the window watching people rush off to work. Bruce set his fork down and blotted his mouth with a napkin before leaning back against the booth. “Jason, is there something wrong? Are you alright?” Jason turned to Bruce and attempted a reply, but his gaze stopped at something over Bruce’s left shoulder. His eyes widened and he bit his lip, quickly looking down at the table and closing his eyes. He exhaled deeply and slowly. Bruce frowned and glanced over his shoulder. Other than a few other patrons of the diner there was nothing out of the ordinary behind him. “Jason?” “I’m fine,” he said, much too quickly. “Just a long night, that’s all. You were saying?” He picked up his fork and stabbed at his omelet. Bruce sighed and picked up his own fork. While they were mending their relationship, apparently they hadn’t reached a point where Jason trusted Bruce enough to talk to him about anything more serious than Dick’s job as a cop or Alfred’s latest attempt at waffles. “Alfred had a wonderful idea. Are you free Thursday night? We’re planning a family dinner and would love for you to join us.” Jason put down his fork and shrugged. “What time?” “Dinner would be at seven, but you’re free to come whenever you’d like.” Bruce tried not to get overly hopeful, but Jason’s hesitation instead of the usual ‘no way in hell’ response was a surprise. Jason looked out the window and cringed before leaning his elbows on the table and mashing his hands over his eyes. Bruce turned to see nothing but some early morning fog, commuters rushing to work and a GCPD officer patrolling the sidewalk across the street. “I’ll be there,” Jason said suddenly, his voice tired and rough. “But I’ve gotta go. Something’s come up.” He refused to make eye contact with Bruce as he reached for his wallet. “Jason, no. I’ll take care of this.” He stretched his arm over the table, his large hand gentle on Jason’s wrist. “Please, let me.” Jason looked up, focused only on Bruce’s face. Bruce could tell Jason was fighting the urge to look behind him again. “Okay. Thanks, B.” He climbed out of the booth, rushed to the door and disappeared in the throng of people outside the door. Bruce looked behind him one more time. There was still nothing there.

Bruce joined Alfred in the kitchen Thursday afternoon, smiling when he saw Dick emerge from the pantry carrying an armful of supplies.

“You can place those on the counter, Master Dick. Thank you.” Dick unloaded the food and took a seat at the table, sneaking a carrot from the salad. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see that,” Alfred muttered dryly. There was a hint of a smile on his face as he tossed Dick a cherry tomato from the carton he had in his hands. Bruce took a seat across from Dick, also taking a carrot. Alfred sighed and set a small platter on the table between them, filling it with the vegetables he hadn’t used in the salad. “Have either of you noticed anything unusual about Jason?” The blunt nature of the question caught both Dick and Alfred off guard. Dick studied the carrot he was holding before popping it into his mouth. “Apart from his temper, the violence, the attacks on nearly everyone in this house, and the fact he returned from the dead?” Bruce almost choked on his carrot and Alfred spun on his heel. “Master Richard,” he scolded. Dick held up his hands. “I’m not judging, honestly. But there’s a lot that’s unusual about the guy. He’s been through a lot.” He looked over at Bruce. “So you’ll have to be a little more specific.” Tim entered the kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator, grabbing an energy drink. Dick pulled out the chair next to him and Tim sat down. He opened the can and took a drink, glancing between Bruce and Dick. “Okay, now what happened?” When Bruce didn’t say anything, Dick answered.

“Bruce was wondering if we’ve noticed anything unusual about Jason.” Tim’s curiosity piqued, he leaned forward. “You mean like how he’s talking to or seeing things that aren’t really there?” Bruce’s eyes widened and he looked at Tim, who was surprisingly casual about it. “I noticed it a few weeks ago and again the other night. Except the second time, he was muttering to someone I couldn’t see.” Dick nodded and turned to Tim. “Like he honestly believed there was someone there.” “Exactly, yeah.” Bruce interjected, concerned they’d both had more contact with Jason than he had. “You’ve been working with him?” “Not working with him, per se, although I wouldn’t turn him down if he wanted to.” Tim toyed with the energy drink can, sliding it back and forth between his hands. “A few times we arrived at the same crime scene. The first time it was like he saw a ghost, judging by the look on his face. The second time he told someone or something to fuck off and leave him alone.” “Language, Master Timothy.” “Sorry, Alfred. Just quoting the source material.” Alfred turned from the stove and leaned a hip on the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Has it occurred to any of you that whatever that young man has been through has severely traumatized him? That his seeing things is a result of his resurrection and its complications?” Bruce looked at him, frowning. “Of course it has, Alfred. But as far as helping him is concerned, we have to figure out whether it’s a mental illness or a side effect of whatever brought him back. Treatment can only happen once we know what we’re treating.” Damian chose to enter the kitchen at that moment, arms crossed and leaning against the doorway. The expression on his face was one of disinterest. “Why don’t you ask him? He just pulled into the driveway.” He turned to leave, muttering to himself. “Although if it were up to me, I’d put him in a strait jacket and hand him over to the staff at Arkham.” Dick and Bruce both looked at Damian, shock clearly written on their faces, and they both spoke at the same time. “Damian!” He stopped and turned around. “What? You said it yourselves. He’s damaged.” “So are you, apparently,” Tim muttered. Bruce frowned at Tim, a look that said you aren’t helping. Alfred turned and Damian immediately glanced his way, his face going pale. “Young man, if I hear anything like that from you again, you’ll be dealing with me. Do you understand?” Damian nodded and disappeared toward the library. “Jesus,” Dick muttered, a hand raking through his hair. “He doesn’t mince words, does he?” Bruce sighed in response and stood up, following Alfred to the front door. Dick looked at Tim. “You said Jason looked like he’d seen a ghost. You don’t think..”

Tim only shrugged a shoulder. “It wouldn’t be the strangest thing we’ve encountered.”

Jason cut the engine of his bike and tugged his helmet off, his thick hair standing on end as he stared up at the house. He dreaded coming to the Manor. It wasn't because Bruce and everyone was here, but because the estate was old and with old properties came ghosts, demons and other paranormal beings. He wasn’t sure what was going on with him since he got back but whatever it was, he wished it would stop. He hung his helmet on the handle bar and climbed off the bike, walking up to the front door. He hadn’t seen anything since he’d left the city and for that he was relieved. The last few nights he’d spent reading up on the history of Wayne Manor to try and find out if he’d be seeing any malevolent spirits or ghosts, but he’d come up with nothing. That was the only reason he was currently standing on the front steps. Before he even had his hand raised to knock the door opened and Alfred was standing there with a smile on his face. “Jason, my boy. How good to see you.” Jason crossed the threshold and glanced quickly around the entrance hall, relief washing over him when he didn’t see anything or anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there. Dick and Tim were standing in the doorway to the living room, Dick waving like a child. Bruce was standing just behind Alfred. “We’re glad you came.” He nodded and handed Bruce his jacket, removing his boots and heading toward the living room, still subtly looking around. It had become a habit the last month or two and most of the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it until someone mentioned it. Like now. “What are you looking at, Jaybird?” Jason scowled at the nickname and brushed past Dick to enter the living room. “I haven’t been here in a while. Sue me.” He took one of the armchairs by the fireplace and curled up in it, staring into the flames. Dick and Tim took the couch and Bruce sat in the chair opposite Jason. Damian wandered in a few minutes later and sat down on the carpet in front of Bruce’s chair. Jason felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle, an all-too-familiar feeling lately. He slowly turned his head to see a dark-haired woman standing in the doorway, fingers toying with a string of pearls around her neck. He slammed his eyes shut and turned back to the fire, not caring at all who noticed. At least she wasn’t hideously deformed from some horrible or violent injury like most of the beings he saw were. She only had a stain on the front of her dress that was hard to see since the fabric was also dark. He inhaled sharply and held his breath, a thought crossing his mind. She looked familiar and he knew why. His eyes moved to the portrait above the fireplace. The portrait of Bruce’s parents. He couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up so fast he nearly knocked the chair over and rushed from the room, going down the hall and through the kitchen to the back garden. He sprinted as fast as he could across the back lawn toward the woods, only stopping when the trail became too dark to see. Leaning forward with his hands on his knees, he gasped for breath, his chest heaving. At first it was nothing serious, just a flash of something in the corner of his eye when he turned around. From there it progressed to cold spots in his apartment or while he was on patrol. Then it was a presence he could feel, like he was being watched, and when he turned around he couldn’t see anything but a faded outline of a person. It didn’t really worry him until he worked on a particularly gruesome case involving a Victor Szasz copycat. Ever since he caught the guy, he was seeing ghosts of people murdered in Gotham and sensed there was also something seriously evil following him around. There were the awful nightmares, the ones that had nothing to do with the Joker and made those seem tame by comparison. And the puffs of hot air against his neck whenever he worked in certain parts of the city, air that smelled of death and decay. All of it was driving Jason mad and he felt powerless to stop it. He’d marked up his most secure safe house with all sorts of protection wards, blessed artifacts and charms. His doors and windows were lined with rock salt. And the palms of his hands were sore and raw from clenching his hands into fists whenever he sensed whatever evil thing was following him, an effort to remind himself what was real and what wasn’t. But that wasn’t working anymore and he could never be sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He collapsed onto his hands and knees on the dirt path, breathing in the comforting scents of earth dampened with the night’s dew and the decay of leaves. His breathing evened, his heartbeat slowed. Once he was able to think clearly he realized Dick and Bruce were calling his name. His shoulders sagged and he stood up,  slowly walking back toward the Manor. At the edge of the clearing, he saw Dick and Bruce coming toward him armed with flashlights. Dick visibly sighed with relief. Bruce looked concerned and in a rare turn of events, confused. Jason’s face blushed crimson and he was glad they were outside in the darkness. “Jesus, Little Wing. What the hell was that?” Jason looked at Dick and sighed. He knew he had to tell someone. “Look, if we can go inside, I’ll try and explain what’s going on.” Dick turned and headed back toward the house. When Jason moved to follow, Bruce put a hand out to stop him. “There’s someone here to visit you. I’d like to know why you’ve had anything to do with him.”

Jason narrowed his eyes and backed away from Bruce. “What the hell are you talking about?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “John Constantine is here and would like a word with you.”

Jason followed Bruce inside and into the study where he could see Tim and Damian sitting on a couch and Dick standing behind them. Alfred was talking to someone who was standing just out of view. Bruce entered the room and Jason hesitated in the doorway, the scent of cigarette smoke heavy in the air.

He'd heard of John Constantine but had never met him. Jason watched as he greeted Bruce with a smile and a handshake, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. His blonde hair was a bit disheveled, as was the shirt and tie he was wearing, and his sleeves were hastily rolled up his forearms. The tan trench coat draped over Alfred's arm must also belong to him. Alfred wrinkled his nose and silently moved past him to hang up John's coat. "So there's the man of the hour," John said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "You're a tough man to track down, Jason Todd." Jason froze next to the couch.  "What do you want?" John took a drag on his cigarette and withdrew his hand, sizing him up with a frown.  "You been having nightmares lately? Seeing things that aren't there?"  Jason glanced sideways at Tim and Dick before looking back at John. "Maybe. What's that got to do with you?" John grinned. "Oh, it's got plenty to do with me, lad. When you came back from wherever you'd been? You brought something with you. I'm here to send it back because Earth is no place for a being that evil." Jason felt the blood drain from his face and he stepped around John to sit down on a couch across from Tim and Damian, who, honestly, he'd forgotten were in the room. Bruce was standing in the shadows by the window, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed. John stood next to the fire place and flicked the butt of the cigarette into the flames. "Tell me. How bad has it become? What have you seen?" Jason swallowed hard. "Mostly ghosts of people who've been murdered. But sometimes I..." he closed his eyes. "Sometimes I feel something right behind me, breathing down my neck. But when I turn around it's not there." He opened his eyes again, his voice going quiet. "It smells like.." "Death and sulfur," John finished for him.  Jason merely nodded. "Bloody hell," John muttered. "He's closer than I thought."  Bruce stepped from his place near the desk and took a seat next to Jason.  "What is it, why is it following Jason, and how do we get rid of it?" he asked. 

John pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit another one. Dick went and opened a window.  "There's nothing you can do about it," he said carefully. "It's latched itself onto Jason here and it won't let go until it takes what it can from him and is strong enough to cross through." "So what is it?" Tim asked. "Why is it after Jason?" John turned to him.  "It's a demon that feeds on pain and suffering and when it finds a particularly tortured soul, it latches on until the host drops dead and it can cross through to the land of the living, wreaking hell on earth." Tim sank back into the couch, staring at Jason in disbelief. John sat on the arm rest next to Jason and clapped a hand on his shoulder.  "With what you went through before you died, and how you came back? You've got a lot of pain and anguish for it to feed on, more than I've ever seen. If it continues much longer, it'll be too strong to stop." Jason looked up at John, ignoring the gutted expressions of Bruce, Dick and Tim at John's mention of his death. "What do I need to do?" John grinned. "That's the spirit. You need to come with me, mate, and we'll make a pit stop at the house before we get to it." John pulled Jason to his feet and headed toward the door. Bruce stepped in front of him, putting his hand on John's chest. "Under different circumstances this would be appealing, Bruce, but not now. We need to get moving." Bruce narrowed his eyes. "If he doesn't come back in one piece, you will find out what hell actually feels like, Constantine." Alfred handed John his coat and held Jason's out as well. The grin hadn't left John's face. "Been there, done that. I've got pictures, if you'd like." "Let's get this over with," Jason muttered, stepping between Bruce and John and into the hallway. "I'd rather not see dead people anymore." John led him from the Manor out into the driveway, opening the portal to the House and ushering Jason through. The arrived in a large library, full of books, artifacts and other mystical relics. Jason cocked an eyebrow at a shelf housing a bottle of liquor and glasses. "I hate to break it to you, Jason, but that gift of yours might never go away." He was perusing a series of shelves in front of him, grabbing seemingly random items and putting them in his coat pockets. "Since you died and came back you're a link between planes, the living and the dead." Jason turned to face him, hands in his pockets. "One, how do you know all of that? And two, why only murder victims?" John waved his hand and a bottle floated down from the top shelf, settling into his palm. "You radiate pain and suffering. And that's something I tend to pick up on since it attracts creatures like the demon now following you." He grabbed one book off a shelf next to Jason, looking up at him. "That and I met spirit who saw your death. I'm sorry you went through that. As far as why murder victims? I think it's because you are one, so they're drawn to you because of who you are." "And who might that be?" "Someone who gives a damn about those who've been wronged." He straightened his tie and jerked his head in the direction of the front door, lighting a cigarette.  "C'mon, lad. We've got some work to do and I'd like to finish before he knows we're coming."

Everything was laid out in a precise manner, the sigils marked in the grass with red spray paint. John was reading through a list of incantations he had to recite to summon the demon and banish it for good. All Jason had to do was stand in the center of the circle, surrounded by the artifacts and charms John set up, and not die. "Oi. You want your family here for this, or no?" Jason looked up at him from where he stood, facing the impending sunrise. "Family?" John rolled his eyes. "You know, your dad, brothers, et cetera." "No. I don't want them anywhere near here." "Then you might want to tell them that." He lifted his chin, pointing at the abandoned church behind Jason. "I didn't tell them we were here." It was Jason's turn to roll his eyes. He turned around to see Bruce, Dick and Tim approaching. "You guys need to leave. We don't need your help with this." "Actually, if any of you happen to have some experience reading Latin, I would.." "Shut your mouth, Constantine, they're not staying." John smirked, but said nothing more. "Fine," Tim said. "We'll keep our distance. But we aren't leaving you two here alone." "Afraid he'll enjoy this too much?" John quipped, flashing Bruce a cocky grin. Dick grabbed Bruce's forearm and tugged him backward. The retreated to the abandoned church where they'd been waiting. Close enough to see what happened, too far to hear anything. Once they were out of earshot, John grew serious. "Now, I'm going to start rambling in Latin, summoning this thing right to us. Once it's here, under no circumstances are you to turn around and look at it. Are we clear?" Jason nodded. "When it gets here, I'm going to start the banishing ritual and when I say 'now', pour this into the bowl, got it?" John handed him a small vial with the cap unscrewed and Jason glanced down at the bowl full of herbs, bitter-smelling powders and sheep's blood. It was shocking how something so seemingly simple would drive the demon away. "Let's get cracking, shall we?" He flipped to the first page and started reciting the ritual, the Latin sounding strange to Jason. Despite his ear for language, he was rusty with Latin and only caught every fourth or fifth word. The wind began to pick up and he thought he could vaguely smell sulfur. The scent grew stronger as John continued, his voice rising above the wind. Jason felt goosebumps spread over his arms and legs, a shiver working its way down his spine. John motioned for Jason to continue looking at him, pointing at his own eyes with two fingers. He nodded and focused on John.  To John's credit, he pretended he hadn't seen the demon coming at Jason, a black, gnarled hand with razor-sharp claws reaching toward him. Jason caught the scent of rotting flesh and swallowed, trying not to gag. He slammed his eyes closed as the claws hooked his jacket and tugged at him. Jason unzipped his jacket and slid out of it, hearing it snarl in anger as his jacket fell away. He could no longer hear John. All Jason could hear was the enraged howl of the demon, its ragged breathing disgustingly close to his ear. He cried out in pain as several of its claws raked their way down his back, tearing his sweatshirt into ribbons. His eyes opened when John's voice somehow got louder. "NOW, JASON! DO IT NOW!" Jason wrenched himself away from the demon's claws, collapsing to the group in a heap. He poured the vial into the bowl and it instantly smoked before a blinding flash of light exploded. Jason shut his eyes and covered his ears against the noise. Moments later he thought he heard John calling his name, but he could barely think.  "Jason? Open your sodding eyes, damn it!" Jason forced his eyes open and looked up to see relief flood John's features. "We need to get you up so we can have a look at your back." He nodded and let John help him into a sitting position. Jason felt something running down his back, soaking into his jeans and boxers. John peeked over his shoulder and winced. "Let's get you back home so they can patch you up." Jason slumped forward against John's shoulder, his eyes slipping closed. There was a blanket wrapped around him and someone lifted him up. He listened as Bruce and John talked. "Is it gone?" "It is, yeah. No way it could fight a banishing ritual like that." There was a gust of wind and Jason could hear the familiar hum of equipment in the cave. "Jason's a strong bloke, Bruce. He fought this thing for weeks before I picked up the trail." "I'm glad you did. Thank you, John." He was carefully set down and rolled to his stomach, the remnants of his shirt being cut away. "A compliment from Batsy himself. I'm absolutely chuffed." "Don't push it." There was a flick of a lighter and the sound of a flame touching paper. Moments later, the scent of smoke. "You know, there's one thing still on my mind." Jason felt the pinch of a syringe and the stinging from the wounds on his back began to fade.  "What's that?" "I've not seen spirits drawn to a human like this before. Not sure what they all want, but they're out there." He listened to John's footsteps retreat a few feet. There was a pause while he took a drag off the cigarette.  "I'll drop by the city in a few weeks to check in on him." "John..." "Take care of him, Bruce. He needs you." There was a rush of air and the cave was nearly silent, save for Bruce's whisper. "I'm here, Jason. I'm still here."

#MizMahlia's Fanfiction #Jason Todd #Jason Todd fanfic #Jason Todd fanfiction #John Constantine #Bruce Wayne #tim drake #Dick Grayson #John Constantine fanfic

[amidst-wonderland]

“Collateral Damage.”

Summary: I’ve actually had this idea sitting with me for a few years so after I re-watched Return of the Joker it came back and hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s a new interpretation of Dee Dee – Harley’s granddaughters, in which they are both relatively normal and Delia ends up in a long-term relationship with Terry; until Arkham rips them apart.

“All the youth in the world will not save you from growing older and all the truth in the girl is too precious to be stolen from her.”

November 12th, 2044

03:46

“Last time I checked, reconnaissance missions don’t result in broken bones.” The elderly man comments watching his son wince as he teases out the last of the glass shards in his right arm. 

“Good thing I don’t have any then.”

“Think again kid.”

Terry had been clawing at his skin for the past twenty minutes letting out various grunts when he’d successfully pulled out what remnants he took from the smashed window. Gotham’s low-profile crimes had been on the decline for a while now which meant most nights was simply patrolling for a couple hours then hitting the sack; so, when the twenty-one-year-old dragged himself up from the cave’s lower-deck covered in blood; to say Bruce was baffled would be an understatement. Initially, he’d gotten a tip-off from Commissioner Gordon that there was a small disturbance located in the original Amusement Mile hidden within the abandoned ruins of Arkham City.

Despite rushing to his aid by carrying him to the small table then eventually wrapping his chest, the boy refused to speak instead swiftly getting out of his suit and letting Bruce do the rest. Terry looked visibly shaken once the cowl had been ripped off. Clocking the blood-shot eyes and dark-circles was a clear indication that poking the bear seemed like a bad idea.

The billionaire begins mumbling to himself flicking away between the few surveillance camera’s still active in the once flourishing area of old-Gotham. If Terry wouldn’t tell him, he’d find out for himself. Small riot near the casino; couple of thugs staring a heating fires; countless corrupt files. It was going to be one long night. That said, the thugs aren’t too much for the police and Barbara to handle, the caped crusader wouldn’t be on his feet anytime soon let alone fighting crime.

“-You won’t find anything,” he grumbled pulling at some leftover bandages on a nearby tray to wrap up him arm. “disabled them the minute I arrived.”

Rolling his eyes, he continues searching. It didn’t take an idiot to realise something was amiss here. Bruce just wanted to keep his new-found son safe. Terry watched him from a distance listening to small clicks from the plastic mouse every few seconds. It was only a matter of time until he found some evidence.

Tonight, was like hell and back, but they’d be damned if the old-man got involved.

Finished with wrapping the injured arm he tosses the thin material off to the side and braces himself with a deep breath, climbing to his feet, ignoring the burning sensation from every bone in his body. An audible wince escapes his lips naturally piking Bruce’s interest, he comments rather smarmy “I checked your vitals, suit says you’ve got two broken ribs; 14 glass cuts; left ankle is sprained not to mention the black-eye is relatively obvious.”

“Tsk, collateral damage.”

The shrug was unnerving for Bruce, turning in the worn-out leather chair. Physically he’d seen much worse, particularly in Terry’s earlier career but at least there was a form of debrief, “Don’t bullshit me, what the hell happened and whilst we’re at it, why’d you have the mask off?”

Still stumbling, he could feel a quick change in his heart-rate, taking in the mentor’s expression; a pursed lip, distinct jaw clench and a coldness behind his blue eyes.

The back of his throat began to burn as he took a hard swallow, getting around the world’s greatest detective wasn’t an easy task but there’s a first time for everything.

“Relax, I just underestimated the trajectory of the drop-down.”

Bruce narrows his eyes noticing the small twitch in Terry’s nose. “You broke multiple ribs falling through a skylight?”

Well…

An uncomfortable silence arises, Terry simply shrugs and snips back, “landed that way, so what?”

“You don’t have to hide anything from me anymore. We both know I’ll do everything in my power to help.”

Sighing, maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea. 

He takes a deep breath, ignoring the sudden burning in his eyes.

The rugged young man let himself fall back against the large desk beneath the bat-computer, carefully crossing his arms not wanting to disturb any healing wounds.

“I think,” breathe, “I think I’m tapping out.” he croaks biting at his lips as the night’s earlier events flash before him, his tousled dark hair masking the grief.

Falling back into his chair, Bruce felt increasingly understanding of the situation at hand, though it was safe to say he needn’t worry about the young Batman getting his ass handed to him in the field but, he’d seen this before; not just in himself but in each of his kids they’d all been through it. The moment their role as protector become all too real. 

“You knew them, didn’t you?”

He nodded before blurting out a choked sob allowing his body to slide down the edge onto the cold floor.

“It’s my fault, I left her in their care – I thought they’d help her.”

There was a dark chuckle resting at the back of Bruce’s throat, but he managed to hold it for the sake of Terry’s distressed state. “They don’t help people at Arkham, they hold them,” placing a hand on his son’s shoulder he gives it a comforting squeeze, “I learned that the hard way.”

“Dr Harmon promised to look into her outbursts, instead he just picked away at her psyche.”

“Told you it was genetic, right?”

Slowly, he peered back up to the man sitting in the chair, “How’d you know?”

“Delia and her sister weren’t the first of their kind. Arkham has numerous files on descendants of past high-profile inmates, they’d been marked as volatile the minute they were born – as was their father.”

“-but she’s nothing like Quinn!” He exclaimed, Arkham staff had came knocking at his door on a variety of different occasions looking for his girlfriend claiming she was in dire need of their assistance and to protect Neo-Gotham from the likes of her kind.

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Terry looked away chewing on his gum, “Most of the time.”

The former hero pinched at his nose, “Arkham has no concrete evidence that she isn’t of Joker’s linage, therefore they assume the position that she is.”

He let out an aggravated groan.

“You’ll heal. It’ll be hard, but you will.”

“Not this time Bruce, Arkham crossed the line.”

November 7tth, 2044

21:46

Light drips could be heard in close echoing, probably coming from the damaged water pipe partnered with the distant screams echoing through the cell-block. 

Block B. Once known to hold Gotham’s most prolific criminals; now, its nothing but a shadow of its former infamy. Harvey Dent; Jonathan Crane and Edward Nygma, just to name just a few. 

Arkham Island is where they resided, as did she.

Deidre Dennis’ unconscious body had been dragged off the dirty cell floor hours ago, leaving Delia without her companion for some time, something she just wasn’t used to. 

The recurring screams were not her sister, which was relatively reassuring however, it didn’t mean it was a good sign. 

The pungent smell of decay was becoming much harder to ignore without the constant distraction of her sister’s antagonising words towards whatever unlucky warden that had been on the night-shift. The blonde felt she’d been left for the silent void to swallow her whole, she was nobody without her other half.

The twins had created a brand, where one was; the other was sure to follow.

She begins tinkering with the plastic wristband that had thankfully been loosened by one of the Asylum’s considerably warmer nurses, who’d noticed some swelling beneath it. 

“Tough gig, huh kid.”

It was raspy, with a hint of amusement; feminine and captivating.

“What’d you want, Isley?” She spat, considerably more venomous than she’d intended, not that she didn’t mean it.

“Nothing much. Thought I’d pick your brain for a bit” She said, awaiting an answer. “That is unless you’d rather continue to choke up your insides?”

“Fine, have at it.”

The redhead was a known associate of her grandmother during the golden era of Old Gotham. 

Unlike her grandmother, the redhead did not age with the rest of them. In fact, she’d come into her prime, plant-based toxins had become an active drug roaming the streets in recent years after the Gotham City Police Department managed to round up most of the diluted fear-gas people were inhaling since its creation.  

Pamela let out a sigh, “You remind me of my Harley, unlike that insufferable sister of yours.”

Delia’s eyebrows furrowed, she’d not spoken much with the elder since her arrival to the Asylum so, how she grew that conclusion was a mystery to her. 

“Much, much kinder, like a delicate bird clipped by its priority to please a higher power.”

“You feel she was better without him, don’t you?”

“My dear, she was better without anybody; myself included,” she softy spoke, smiling behind the wall. “I do believe you’re proof of that.”

The blonde begins to relax, playing with her greasy hair, “but she he abandoned you.”

There was a hitch in the back of throat. Saying goodbye to Harley was one of the hardest things she’d ever experienced and wouldn’t wish it upon her worst enemy – not that Joker would’ve cared. “It was for the best; Gotham is no place for a child.”

‘You’re telling me.’

“Red. That’s what she used to call you.”

She felt a short but powerful warmth in her chest. 

God, it had been so long. “That would be correct.”

“Nana Harley named my father after you – well, before he changed it.”

“I was there. Me, Eddie and Jonathan were all there, couldn’t let her go through that alone, not after what he’d put her through.”

“Do you think?”

She sighed, she knew what the twenty-year-old was alluding to and whilst it wasn’t her place to tell, there was no chance Harley would let it slip. The sooner the girls knew, the safer they’d be.

Even to this day the clown’s name still holds an aura of weight and protection.

Harley was not the unfaithful type. 

Joker was her one and only.

Delia took in a deep breath, Pamela’s silence speaking louder than any verbal confirmation ever could.

It’s true.

Just as Dr. Harmon described, that it was only a matter of time before she cracked.

The blonde lets out an audible wince, feeling a sharp pain in her lower abdomen.

“Do you wish to discuss it?”

Delia narrowed her eyes, “you mean Joker?” 

“You know what I mean kid.” Pamela presses, “the food here may be filled with fat and greasy chemicals but it’s definitely not putting any weight on you.”

She opens her mouth to protest but is cut short once again as her cell door swings open, revealing two doctors clad in a powder-blue she’d become sickeningly accustomed to.

November 9tth, 2044

02:18

“You’ve got about three seconds before I start breaking bones, so talk.” Terry growled at the elderly man he now had pinned to the tiled wall.

He let out a chuckle, seemingly unnerved by the vigilantes violent threat, this method of interrogation is not new to him he’d faced off against the old caped-crusader many times before, the only thing new was the suit.

Jeremiah Arkham, wasn’t a particularly aggravated soul, quite the opposite actually and despite entering his old-age his initial mission of rehabilitation was still at the heart of him.

That coincidentally aligned with this Batman’s particular person of interest. 

“My, my aren’t you a delight.” he muses, ignoring the perhaps severe pain in his right shoulder-blade, which became increasingly more potent as Terry’s patience wore thin. 

“Why are there two inmates missing at Arkham?”

“Missing? I’m afraid you have them mistaken; the pair walked out free.”

The young man’s grip got tighter on the stained lab-coat collar, “You let Poison Ivy just, leave?”

“Ms Isley had shown no signs of neurotic behaviour in the past ten years, she was simply finishing her sentence.”

Batman wasn’t the only one with questions, Jeremiah knew exactly why he was here. “Mr McGinnis, you are aware of project: Batman, yes?”

Terry took a breath releasing a man who obviously wasn’t afraid of him, therefore brute force just wasn’t going to cut it, so he let him continue. “I’m familiar.”

“-and that you and Bruce Wayne are one in the same, hmm,” Jeremiah looked behind as Terry nodded along, following him deeper into the abandoned lab. “Well, that being said we run a similar operation over at our Arkham facility – although rather than procreate, we terminate.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. Catching on, the redhead idly waves his hand, “Don’t want any of those pesky off-spring getting lose, do we?”

Terry crossed his arms watching the man pull out multiple files, on a particular blond bombshell tossing them onto the dusty wooden table, “Delia Dennis, the two of you were well acquainted, weren’t you?”

The raven-haired boy’s back begins to tense.

His eyes flickered to the doctor throwing open one of the marked files, he then began reading aloud, “November 1st. Descendant status confirmed, traces of both Dr. Harleen Quinzel and Inmate 0801 are identifiable,” Terry opens his mouth to speak, yet the man opposite him continues. “Interference with Project: Batman, termination status, to be determined.”

Jeremiah trailed off before snapping the file shut.

“What, happened?” Terry gritted through his teeth, having to mentally restrain himself from pouncing over the table, knowing this man had even put a hand on Delia made his blood boil.

“With her, I don’t know,” Jeremiah sighed pushing up his glasses. “The staff quickly dealt with the Deidre situation, they’re burying her body as we speak.”

“They killed her.”

“They did our city a favour. The last thing Neo-Gotham needs is a lesson in history,” He growls. “The Clown made our lives miserable, we just can’t take any chances.”

Trying to ignore the revolting antics of the asylum, Terry begins plucking elsewhere, “So, when you said, ‘walked free’?”

“The latest I’ve heard of Delia Dennis is that, she is no longer a required subject at Arkham, whatever happened between those days is anyone’s guess.”

Terry glances down at the file, analysing every detail of every picture and not he can, as the man begins to make his way to the exit, keys swinging in one hand, “Oh and, Mr McGinnis.”

Terry looks up to see the doctor smiling back.

“-congratulations.”

_______________

Okay, so this was supposed to have a part two, and it might still have but right now I honestly can be arsed, so.

Basically, the reason for Terry injuries is because of Delia, she broke his bones and shoved him through a window after having a bit of a mental breakdown in her little hide-out which is located in the abandoned Arkham City.

Arkham, being dumb as shit thought that rather than terminate her, as they deemed herself nonthreatening to the public. Instead, they terminated their unborn child - causing such a reaction.

She jumped from the rooftop and Terry couldn’t save her. Delia, also didn’t know her ex-boyfriend was Batman until that night, nor did she know her unborn child was linked to Project: Batman and it all just became too much.

#terry mcginnis #batman #terry mcginnis imagine #batman imagine #Arkham Stories #batman beyond

[hysterialevi]

In the Smoke pt. 26 (Cobblebats)

From Oswald’s POV

CITY HALL

Kneeling in defeat above Bruce’s body, I helplessly stared at the burning buildings in the distance as the flames grew larger and larger, consuming an entire city block with its raging heat. Everything I cared about was being destroyed in front of my very eyes, and with every passing second, I could practically feel the mayor’s smile spreading wider.

“Feels bad, doesn’t it?” Harvey taunted, twiddling with his coin. “You Children of Arkham think you’re invincible; that nothing can touch you.” He gestured towards the fire. “Clearly, your arrogance has blinded you. You have no one else but yourself to blame for what’s happened tonight. Let this be a lesson, the next time you want to become enemies with me.”

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breath as I threw a deathly glare at Harvey, rising to my feet.

“He died for...you,” I said through gritted teeth. “He died...protecting you.” 

Taking out my pistol, the weapon shook slightly in my grasp as I weakly aimed it at the mayor’s head, wanting nothing more but to slaughter him. He only laughed in response.

“Killing me won’t bring him back,” he grinned. “And it certainly won’t help you either. Face it, Penguin. You’re all alone now. Bruce is dead, and your friends back home are roasting alive as we speak. If you’re smart, you’ll let me kill you now and save you a whole lot of trouble in the future.”

I scoffed, refusing to back down. “You think I’m just gonna quit? That this is gonna make me give up? Oh no, mate...” I got extra close to him, staring directly into his eyes. “By the time I’m done with this city, it’s gonna look like hell on Earth, and you--along with all your men--will be burning up with it. Exactly like you should be.”

Harvey smirked. “You’re definitely determined. I’ll give you that. Unfortunately, I’m afraid it’s not enough to save you.”

Snapping his fingers, a group of Harvey’s guards suddenly broke through the rooftop’s door as they surrounded me, aiming their weapons at my head.

“Your terrorism ends tonight,” the mayor declared. “Once I’ve finished taking care of you, I’ll hunt down any of your other pals who may have survived, and your entire organization will be nothing but a speck in the wind.”

He chuckled to himself. “I can see tomorrow’s headlines already. ‘Hero Mayor Saves Citizens from Children of Arkham Terror Plot.’ Perhaps people will finally realize that they have a true leader. That I’m willing to do anything in order to save this city. That I am the Guardian of Gotham.”

I almost had to laugh at his delusion. “The Guardian of Gotham? You just murdered hundreds of innocent civilians tonight--Thomas Wayne’s son included. What you’ve done tonight will decimate your entire legacy, and I won’t be able to help but smile the whole way through.”

Harvey remained unwavering, signaling the guards. “Too bad you’ll be dead.”

Before they could do anything however, an array of Batarangs soared in their direction, knocking the guns out of their hands and disabling them. Meanwhile, a pair of familiar-looking drones circled around the rooftop, surveilling the area as smoke grenades clouded up my vision, and the sound of fighting reached my ears.

In the midst of all this chaos, I found myself pathetically trudging over to Bruce’s body through the smoke, desperately holding onto him as I suddenly remembered who was responsible for his death. 

“Gideon...” I muttered under my breath, scowling. That son of a bitch had better been praying I didn’t find him after all this. If I ever managed to get my hands on him again, he was going to regret pulling that trigger--and pull it on himself one, last time just to escape the pain I was going to cause.

Just then, I heard Harvey call out Batman’s name once all the guards were down, addressing the vigilante as he joined the scene.

“Batman!” He exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Batman paused for a second, peering at the corpse I was sitting beside. I could see his jaw tighten out of rage.

“I did what I had to,” Harvey said, noticing Batman’s gaze. “I know you have a code against killing, but the Waynes are part of the reason why Gotham’s been falling apart for years now. Their time in this city is up--”

Suddenly, Batman whipped around, interrupting him as he threw the hardest punch he possibly could straight into Harvey’s cheekbone, causing the mayor to topple over.

“Shut up, Dent.”

Remaining in place, I stayed by Bruce’s side and simply watched Harvey drift into unconsciousness as Batman towered over him, clenching his fists. The vigilante and I may not have always seen eye-to-eye, but as far as I was concerned, he could harm the mayor to his heart’s content. He would get no arguments from me.

Letting out a disapproving scoff, I gestured to Harvey with a quick glance. “...I woulda killed him.”

Batman walked over, kneeling next to me. “Murder isn’t justice. Dent will receive the punishment he deserves--in a courtroom.”

I wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, because I definitely trust the judges in Gotham. How did you even find us anyways?”

“I’m the one who sent Bruce to speak with Harvey,” he answered. “After waiting for so long for him to return, I instantly knew something was wrong. So, I came here. I only wish I had arrived sooner.”

Falling into silence, Batman activated some sort of scanner on his gloves as the fingertips lit up with a blue glow, and he began to wave them over Bruce’s body. I felt myself frowning.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save him,” I said with regret. “This was never what I intended. I originally came here for Dent, and Dent only.”

Batman stayed calm, showing no signs of anger towards me. “Well, you succeeded.”

I quirked a brow in confusion, coaxing for an explanation. Batman retreated his hand.

“He’s alive.”

A relief like none I’ve ever felt washed over me, and every tense muscle in my body seemed to loosen up. 

“You’re being serious?” I asked, a little in disbelief.

“Completely,” he confirmed, “but he’s in a critical condition. We have to get him to the Batcave immediately.”

I froze. “Wait, ‘we?”

Batman marched over to Dent, handcuffing his wrists. “Yes. We.”

I still felt the need to double-check. “You’re willing to let me into the Batcave?”

The vigilante chuckled softly, switching to his original voice. “I know Bruce told you who I am. I can tell. There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.” 

Once he was done securing the handcuffs, Batman accessed a small screen on the back of his arm, calling for Gordon. “I’ll make sure the GCPD gets Dent. Meanwhile, you take Bruce back to the manor, and find Alfred. He’ll show you how to get to the cave. I’ll notify him to prepare the med-bay.”

I nodded, quickly taking Bruce into my arms as I made my way downstairs where his car was parked.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Batman announced, halting me in my tracks. “...Stay safe. Bruce has spoken to me about you before. You mean more to him than you think.”

Not really knowing what to say in return, I simply took my leave with Bruce in hand, eager to bring him to safety as I hastily searched for the key in his pockets. Just moments ago, I had literally been on my knees, utterly hopeless about the entire situation, and awaiting my death. HQ was destroyed--shriveling up in flames--and my one friend had been murdered in cold-blood. 

But now that I knew Bruce was still alive, I was willing to do everything within my power to make sure he survived the night. It wasn’t often that I got second chances like this, and I had certainly never witnessed a miracle before. 

I only hoped that once Gideon learned of Bruce’s survival, he didn’t try to come after him again. The man was an excellent hunter, and if working with him taught me anything over the years, it was that he never quit--not under any circumstances whatsoever.

But, then again, he’d never had me as an enemy. Until now.

#cobblebats #batman telltale #bruce wayne #oswald cobblepot #harvey dent #fanfic #story

[static-ink-blog]

Another Way- Bruce Wayne

Prompt: Requested by anon - “ I noticed youre taking requests, so can I request one where Batmom is a criminal (Before she was batmom) and Bruce encourages her to drop the criminal life and do good or something like that?” (x)

A/N: At first I wanted to pull the Gotham Sirens into this, but they didn’t form until later, so yeah. Enjoy!

   Exiting the skylight you landed on all fours. The alarm went off and a look of annoyance hushed over your face. It was quickly masked by a grin. Breaking into a run you jumped off the building, shooting your grappling hook mid-air. Adrenaline shot through your veins as you flew over the heads of pedestrians and back up. Laughter ran from your lips. Flipping in mid-air you landed on the next roof. This was what you loved about your job, the rush.    Hearing someone land behind you, you turned. Of course the chase was always fun, too. Taking in the hero that had decided to come after you a hum sounded from the back of your throat. Batman was a rare hunter in Blüdhaven, which had yet to gain it's own masked protector. That did not mean you hadn't met the bat-vigilante before. He did find his way in this city from time to time, just as you visited Gotham on occasions. "Coming to play again?" you asked, wondering what had made him leave his territory this time. "I'm afraid I don't have time to play with boys. Not even handsome bats."    "Breaking the law and robbing a museum is hardly a game." Batman narrowed his eyes at you, taking a step forward. You immediately took a step back, not at all interested in getting in a fist fight with the man in front of you. He stopped. His eyes went to your back bag. The one that had to contain the stolen jade figure.    Teasingly you made a step backwards and grinned at him. His attention snapped back to your domino-mask-covered eyes. "Come and get me." you told him. Giving him no time to stop you, you ran. Out the corner of your eye you saw him following hot on your tail. In the night he chased you over the rooftops. A few times he nearly got you, but you managed to slip away last second each time.    Then a biting scent reached Batman and the sound of sirens coming from fire trucks made him stop. From where he was he could see the burning building at the  end of the street. Batman quickly realized that there were still people inside. The firefighters were trying to get to them, but the flames were shooting sky-high and blocking their way.    He didn't hesitate. Chasing you was not nearly as important than saving the lives of those people. It didn't take him long to get there. Using his cape to shield his face from the flames he entered through a window on one of the upper floors. The fire was halfway through the walls and he didn't trust the floor he was standing on. But down the hall someone called for help, so he rushed forward.    Rounding in the room Batman was faced with a man and a small child. The man was stuck under a beam, while the kid was sitting next to him crying, refusing to leave. Looking up the man saw him and started begging the hero to save his son. Ignoring the calls, Batman stroke forward. "I'm getting both of you out of here." he said, making the kid stand back and starting to throw the debris that was blocking the beam to the side.    Using all his strength he pushed against the beam, but it didn't budged. Unnoticed by anyone the fire was eating itself through the ceiling. The crack warned him to late. Spinning around Batman knew he wouldn't be in time to save the kid as the ceiling collapsed above them. Out of nowhere you appeared, throwing at the child. Pushing them out of the way just in time. Pulling the three-year-old close you twisted in the air as to take the impact of the fall.    You came up with them in your arms, the kid starring at you wide-eyed as it was too shocked to cry. Holding them close you patted their hair and got up. There was no time. Looking up you saw Batman watching you with an unreadable expression.    Giving the situation you were in he didn't dwell on his thoughts and turned back to the stuck man. Once more he steamed against the beam with no success. Frowning you stepped next to him. Together you were able to move the beam. Dropping it, Batman shouldered the man while you went back to the kid. Picking up a blanket from the from the fire still untouched couch you wrapped it around the them, before picking them up.    The vigilante shared a nod with you, before you started running. Batman threw a batarang, shattering the window in front of you and doing so clearing the way for you so that it was safer for the civilians. Jumping out of the window the two of you used your grappling hooks to get safely to the ground. Some of the medics present rushed to meet you when they saw you.    One of them took the child from you. Your eyes stayed focused on the kid  as they brought it over to the ambulance and checked over it. You might be a villain, but you hated seeing kids getting hurt and were glad this one was safe.      Without you realizing it Batman was watching you again. Till today he had always seen you as a thief up and foremost. One that didn't kill, but still a criminal. Now he saw that there was more to you, something worth saving. For a moment he took his eyes off you as the medical workers took the man off his back. When he turned back, you were gone.

   Months passed. Your life continued as before. For some time a rumor had come up that you had gone soft, but you were able to establish that you simply had principles and could take down anyone thinking you weak. Afterwards the underworld left you alone, and with a new series of daring robberies you convinced the police that nothing had changed. Only one wasn't convinced.    Swinging on one of the metal crossbeams of the unfinished skyscraper you spun around and threw darts at your pursuer. Batman easily dodged them. You growled. "Shouldn't you be in Gotham?" you asked. Despite you loving the chase, the hero had really been putting the heat on you. It was unnerving that he would come this much to Blüdhaven, and since he only ever came after you when he was here, some of your clients had started to worry and gone to other sources. Being the best in the city you still meant that you were getting enough jobs, but you knew he had to stop before that changed. "What? Arkham updated their security?"    Batman ignored your comment, knowing the reasons for them. As soon as he started after you again you were fleeing again, but he overtook you. Landing in front of you he made you stop in your tracts. Your eyes narrowed. The two of you were miles up, to high to jump. He had you cornered.    The lights of the city filled the night and played on Batman's face as he moved closer. "You don't have to be this." he said, his voice sincere. He truly believed you could change. Despite wearing a mask and a black suit and committing crime, you weren't a sociopath or a cold-hearted killer. At that fire he had caught a glimpse of the good deep down in you, the person you could be and he refused to let that go. "Give up on a life of crime. We both know that you are better than this."    "There you go again." you rolled your eyes, not letting your guard down. The worst about his visits was that he wasn't even trying to capture you, he was trying to reform you. "Listen, I don't know how often I have to tell you this, but your talks aren't going to work any time soon. I'm not going to change it just because you say so."    "I'm not telling you to change because I am telling you so." the bat disagreed, stopping right in front of you. His eyes searched yours and he saw you set your chin. "It would be worthless if that would be the only reason. No, I'm asking you break free from this type of life and be who you really are."    Subtly you make sure your bag with tonight's loot was outside his direct reach, hiding it behind you. "You are really stubborn." you stated, leaving out how you were starting to respect that in him. It was weird having someone so set on seeing the good in you. Your entire life you had been a thief, it had been always been your way of surviving and you took pride in your skill. Having someone tell you that this wasn't who you were was both confusing and absurd. "Just because I didn't want a kid burn to death doesn't make me any less of a villain. Has it come to your mind  that this is who I am, detective?"    White lenses narrowed at you. "I don't believe that. You had no way of knowing that it was a child who was in that fire." Batman reminded you. "It could have just as well someone in his thirties or elderly. The only thing you could have concluded before you went in there was that there was someone in there, regardless of age. Besides the child wasn't the only one you saved."    While that was true, you didn't want to admit it and encourage him to come after you even more. For a moment you actually thought about what it would be like to play on the other side of the law, but you banished that idea from your mind, not letting it take any form. You were who you were. You had to get out of here. "Stop acting like you know me all the time!" you growled, swinging at him. "What happened at that fire doesn't change who I am! And neither do you!"    Your anger didn't surprise him as he knew it steamed from you being afraid. Because a life of crime had been all you knew.  "No, it shows who you really are." he said, defending himself from your attacks. He didn't attack himself, but he didn't let you get away either. "There are other ways to make money .Ways that don't require you to break the law. You can build yourself a new life were you don't have to look over your shoulder every second. One were you can be anything you want."    A humorless laugh came from you. "You don't have to do it alone." Batman insured you. If you really wanted out, he would help you. He held your glance as you studied him from the corner of your eyes. Finally you straightened up and looked at him with an unreadable expression.    Suddenly you kicked him. Batman stumbled backwards. Normally he would have easily taken this kind of hit, but he slipped on a cord laying over the beam behind him. "No!" you screamed when you saw him fall off the beam. Without thinking you shoot your grappling hook at his hand, catching him. His weight pulled you down, but you managed to hold on long enough so that he could swing safely to another beam.    After his narrow escape Batman looked up to you. You might have been the reason he had fallen, but you had also saved him. He could see the fear and shock on your face, telling him you hadn't expected him to fall.    You sighed in relief, willing your beating heart to calm down. Then realization hit you like a ton of bricks. It wasn't that you had saved him, it was how relieved you had been that he was okay. As if you cared about him. With horror you starred down to the hero. That wasn't right, you weren't supposed to care for him. The two of you played on different sides, were enemies. Biting your lip you stood frozen for a moment before you fled.

   Coming here had been a mistake. Leaning back in the window frame you looked out the open window to the city. You had moved, thinking a change of place would help. In hindsight you could have picked a better city, this one wasn't helping at all. Were someone to ask you why you had come here of all places, you would make up a lie since you couldn't even answer it yourself. Pulling your legs close you wrapped your arms around them.    "Thinking again?" Looking up you saw it was Selina. She had been friends with you for years, you had met back  when you were still kids and had become like a sister to you. When you had moved to Gotham she had offered you a place till you figured out what you wanted to do. Harley and Ivy visited often. Maybe they had sensed the state you were in. In any case you were thankful for how they put up with you and supported you.    Trying you give her a smile you shrugged. "It is getting bad, isn't it?" you asked. No matter what you attempted, Batman's words echoed through your mind. The idea that you could be something else. It was absurd. A thought you avoided. Yet it kept on popping up. When you narrowly escape police, when you dealt with clients, or when you had to fight off rivals. Even when you were alone or trying to go to sleep. That was not counting the times he was actually coming after you.    "No, it isn't." Selina said, leaning on the other side of the window. She gave you a reassuring smile. "We all need time to think sometimes. There is nothing wrong with that." Looking outside she was quiet for a moment. "You want to talk about it?"    You thought about it, but shook your head. It felt weird to think about it, you were sure it would feel even weirder to talk about it. "I'm fine." you said. The look on Selina's face told you she didn't believe you, but she let it slid. Even if you didn't talk about it she could tell you had a lot on your mind. She would be there when you were ready to talk.    Getting up you stretched yourself. If you sat here, your mind would just keep on running in circles around the same old absurd idea. "I'm going to go out." you declared. "Want to tag along?"    "Thanks, but I have work later." she shook her head. You nodded and went to change. Before long you were running over the rooftops, trying to clear you're head. It was getting warmer during the day, but at night it still cooled down a lot. Coming to a stop you looked around. It wasn't working. Across the street was a jeweler. A grin formed on your face.    Switching roofs, it was easy to take down the security system and slid in through the back door. At nights all the pretty stones were locked up in a safe in the back. But that only translated to you knowing were you had to go. Three minutes and the heavy iron door was open. Taking out one of the boxes, you opened it and looked at a beautiful set of diamond earrings and the matching necklace. Smiling you traced them.    Then you stopped. A frown appeared on your face. Once more you studied the gems, but they no longer held the same beauty. Shaking your head you closed the box and put it back, closing the safe. You stood in front of it for a moment before turning and leaving, setting off the alarm as you went.    More confused than ever you fled over the rooftops. There were no cops behind you, but they weren't what you were running from. It made no sense leaving without the loot, and you were made at yourself for doing so. Yet even if you could go back and get them, something inside you were stopping you. You ran till you couldn't run anymore.    Out of breath you came to a stop, toppling over. Once you caught yourself straightened up and ran a hand through your hair. This was crazy. "What the hell am I doing?" you wondered out loud. This wasn't like you at all.    "Waking up." Not having expected an answer as you had thought you were alone you spun around. Batman was not far behind you. He was standing still, only his cape moving in the wind as he studied you. Of course it was him. "You didn't take anything." he noted, sounded a bit amazed.    Suddenly you were mad at him. "Rub it in, will you?" you huffed crossing your arms and glared. "After all that is what you wanted." You were so confused, it was giving you a headache. Shaking your head you turned away. All your life you had known exactly what you wanted and how to get there. But then he had to show up with his bright ideas about living another way and now ... You sighed, feeling the anger drain from you. Now you just didn't know anymore. "It would never work." you finally said slowly.    "Why is that?" Batman asked, stepping next to you. He was looking out at the city, waiting patiently for your answer. He had watched you, he knew about how you had been protecting the street children. You had also started to not take clients anymore, just some odd jobs here and there. Working to have money to live, not because your heart was in it.    "How could it?" you asked back. "You think they would just let me off the hook? I'm not going to jail." Frowning you looked out at the cities' skyline. "And it is unlikely that they are just going to misplace the warrant for me."    "Well, they misplaced the one for me." Batman offered, making you look up surprised. He turned to you. "You don't have to go to court, not if you stop committing crime. But this is a choice you have to make. Not anyone else."    "You would let me go?" you asked, not at all expecting this. Nobody got away from the Bat. It wouldn't go in your head that he would make such an huge exception for you. Part of you wanted nothing more than believe in the chance he was offering, but it seemed nearly unreal.    He turned to you. "As long as you don't make me regret it." he said. You studied him trying to figure where the catch was, but he seemed sincere. Batman always had, which was most likely how he had gotten past your defenses.    With knitted brow you looked out to the city. Maybe crime wasn't for you anymore. But it wouldn't be easy. Nobody had ever learned your identity aside from Selina and a few friends, but you had no idea where to go from here. A job would be hard to find with the gap in your resume. Heck, you didn't even knew what you wanted to do. "Do you really think I could make it?" you asked Batman.    "Yes." he said, glad he had finally gotten through to you. You had called him stubborn on more than one occasion, and maybe he was. Fact was however that he had started to care for you, more than he wanted to admit. "You're strong. Stronger than you think."

   "And then Wally..." Dick grinned as he continued telling you about the latest prank his best friend had played at another friend named Roy. You were sitting at your desk in WE, waiting for your boss Bruce Wayne to come out of his meeting. A smile was on your face as you listened to the boy.    Years had passed since you had left your old life behind you. It happened not right away after making the decision, you had hesitated at first still. But then you had gotten a job at a dinner and worked from there. Selina had supported your choice, but had broken down contact with you so that you wouldn't get pulled into anything while building your new life. It had hurt. What had pulled you through had been your regular customer Bruce Wayne. Despite being rich as he was he had come each day for a coffee and talked with you. Not even a half year later he had offered you a job at Wayne Enterprise, as his secretary no less.    Of course you had agreed. The hours were long, but you loved your job. Mr. Wayne was great to work with and during your breaks you often sat together and talked, and so Mr. Wayne soon became Bruce. You wouldn't lie, you had more than a crush for the man. Only later you found out that he was aware of your past and was in fact Batman. When he had taken in Dick, you started spending lots of time with the boy and came to love him.    You laughed as Dick's story ended with Roy covered in honey and feathers and Wally running for his life. The boy's grin widened at your reaction, proud that he had made you laugh. He looked up a the sound of the ding and smiled at Bruce who stepped out of the elevator, but stayed where he was. The nine-year-old didn't want to leave yet.    Bruce smiled at the sight of the two of you together. His feelings for you had only grown over the years. You had grown into a amazing person since leaving crime and he loved every second he got to spent with you. Seeing you now with Dick and how well you got along made him the happiest man alive.    Noticing your boss was here you tried to calm yourself. He grinned at you and you shook your head good-humored. What were you supposed to do with those two? "How was the meeting?" you asked to get back on track. He rolled his eyes a little. "Boring, but we actually got things done." he answered, handing you the file. His smile returned. "Can you make a reservation at the Ocelot for me, Y/n? Let's say Saturday at eight?"    Your heart fell a little, but you tried not to let it show. "You have a date?" you asked nonchalant as you took the file. Bruce had not been seeing anyone in a while and you had thought that he had dropped hints that he liked you, but maybe you had been only getting your hopes up.    "Yes. That is unless you don't have time." You could have sworn Dick had whispered 'Finally!' under his breath, however your focus was on Bruce. He was waiting for your answer, his eyes shining with not only with love, but also nervosity.    "I love to." you answered. A blush worked itself on your face, together with a huge smile. One Bruce returned as his face lit up. You would have never expected life to land you here back when you had first met. But at the same time you wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

.

#bruce wayne imagine #Batman Imagine #batmom imagine #dc imagine #batmom #bruce wayne #batman #dc

[batreyn]

Title: Worry is for the Weak Characters: Damian, Dick, with Tim on the side A/N: This takes place in the void before the first issue of the Batman New52 (or was it the reboot?). In that issue, Batman breaks into Arkham to retrieve Dick, who has been posing as the Joker to collect intel.

Worry is for the Weak

Damian’s ears pulled back to better hear the footfalls as they crept into the room. From the ridiculously slow gait, he could tell whoever it was was making an obvious attempt at being sneaky, immediately narrowing his list of suspects down to Grayson. Because he was the only idiot who liked to goof off in this household.

Feeling generous, Damian kept his eyes on his book, allowing Grayson to have his fun for the moment. He glanced up only when green hair began to poke up over the couch, directly behind Drake. A pale face and shadowed eyes shining brightly with twisted amusement followed and just as Drake began to turn his head to acknowledge the presence, a single word was breathed into the teenager’s ear.

“Boo.”

Drake’s double-take turned into a flailing of arms and legs as he fell off the couch in an effort to put some immediate distance between himself and the Joker. Mad laughter filled the room and caused the hair on the back of Damian’s neck to stand on end as he gritted his teeth in frustration. He sounded just like him.

Snapping his book shut, Damian stood. “Is it really necessary to wear that thing around the house?”

He did his best to keep his features impassive as wild eyes fixed unblinkingly on him. It was a surprisingly difficult thing to do despite knowing that wasn’t really the Joker leaning over the couch.

After a long moment the clown’s head flickered out of existence, leaving behind a plain, dotted mask that was pulled off to reveal Dick Grayson’s concerned face. Before any reassurances could be voiced, Tim spoke up.

“So you’re actually going through with it?”

With Dick’s attention successfully diverted, Damian took the opportunity to leave the room.

-

Damian had thought the ballroom made for an excellent hiding place until Dick actually found him. He considered ignoring Grayson in favor of reading until he realized that would imply that something was bothering him.

Heaven forbid he give any of his “siblings” a reason to play the part of concerned older brother.

He set the book aside just as Grayson started climbing the stairs to the small stage.

“Did you need something?” he asked neutrally, crossing his arms and straightening his posture.

Dick hesitated before closing the distance between them and sliding down the wall to sit next to Damian on the floor.

“I’m scheduled to have Batman dump me off on Arkham’s doorstep tonight.”

Damian’s eyes moved away from Dick and resolutely stared at the edge of the stage. “Great. Excellent. Have fun trying not to get yourself killed.”

A small smirk peeked out from the corners of Dick’s mouth. “Do you still want my escrima sticks if I don’t make it?”

Damian’s jaw jutted out. He had made that comment in jest back when the idea of Dick posing as the Joker in Arkham Asylum had first been put forth. It stopped being funny the second he realized both his father and Grayson were seriously considering it.

The silence stretched on for a bit before Dick realized he wasn’t going to receive some witty comeback.

“You know, I honestly expected you to have gone though all of my things already and written up a will for me to sign.”

Damian couldn’t help but snort. “Like you have anything materialistic that would be of value to me.”

“Hey! I have…stuff,” Dick finished lamely when he failed to think of anything specific. “Okay, so what if I’m not materialistic? Last I checked, your esoteric humor didn’t rely on such logic.”

Damian pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Giving up on trying to keep the conversation light-hearted, Dick cut to the chase. “Damian, the way you’ve been acting lately has kind of thrown us all for a loop.”

“And what way is that?” Damian forced himself to turn his head to face Dick, daring him to finish calling him out on his actions.

Dick’s eyes met and locked with his. “Concerned.”

It was a stupid dare anyways and Damian returned his attention to the room at large. “Is that a problem?”

He heard Dick’s sigh and struggled to keep his defenses from rising.

“No, it’s great. It lets us know that you’re really human.”

Damian snarled at the less-than enthused tone. “Try not to sound so thrilled.” He dropped from his curled position and reached for his book. Now was a good time as any to leave.

Instead he found his arm in a vice grip as he was unceremoniously dragged flush against Grayson’s side. Any normal means of escape was prevented by a muscular arm thrown over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?!”

“Having a moment,” Dick answered calmly, refusing to relinquish his hold as Damian struggled. “Now stay still. This may be the last real interaction we ever have.”

Heart dropping uncomfortably into his stomach, something cold spread through Damian’s chest and he wrenched himself free, scrambling to the edge of the stage in order to put some space between them before turning around and running an agitated hand through his hair. “Why would you even say that? How can you be so ready to die over-over nothing! It’s just for a lead in a case!”

Dick’s eyes were sad as they stared up at Damian in shock. “You really are worried about me…”

“I’m not worried!” Damian snarled, his voice echoing in the empty ballroom.

“Okay, fine.” Dick braced his hands against the wall behind him as he moved to stand. “You’re scared.”

Damian froze in his unintentional pacing.

Dick took the opportunity to close the distance between them, careful to leave a few feet of space to prevent Damian from bolting. “Have a bit of faith in me, alright? Bruce wouldn’t let me go out there if he didn’t completely believe in me. He’s got a track record of doing that.”

“Father’s kept you from missions before?” Damian frowned.

“Yeah. But that’s in the past now, so you shouldn’t judge me for it.”

A flash of smugness ran through Damian. Father had never successfully stopped him from going on missions. Yet.

“Point is, the fact that Bruce is supporting me in this decision should be enough to calm everyone’s fears.”

“Because he knows the extent of the abilities that you didn’t even know you had,” Damian snorted, stubbornly looking away.

“Actually, yeah.” Dick slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He does.”

Some of the fight left Damian and he warily looked up at Dick. “You can honestly say with confidence that you’ll survive alone in Arkham with every villain — most of whom you helped put there — while successfully pretending to be the Joker, and then come home unscathed and alive?”

Dick thoughtfully began to nod before aborting the motion with a tilt of his head. “Well, I don’t want to go making promises in the off chance that something does go wrong, but,” he shrugged, “I was born in a circus. I’m meant to perform. This mission is just a twisted version of that.”

Damian knew he looked less than convinced.

“Look, I know you don’t like it, but I’d feel a lot better if you had at least a little bit of confidence in me.”

“You’d feel better?” Damian scoffed, but took a step towards Dick regardless.

“What if I write home every day?” Dick offered.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

“That depends on how you feel about being addressed to as Harley.”

Damian drew back, mildly disgusted. “Is it really that impossible for you to hold a serious discussion for more than ten minutes?”

Dick was prevented from answering by the sound of Alfred clearing his throat from the doorway.

“Master Bruce is waiting for you downstairs, sir.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” Dick bent down and picked up Damian’s book. “This is it. Now can we have our moment?” He spread his arms in invitation.

“No.” Damian reached out and snatched the book back before turning to walk off the stage towards the main doorway. “But I am willing to hang on to your escrima sticks until you get back. Maybe I’ll even use them a bit when I help capture the Joker.”

At Dick’s bark of laughter, Damian allowed himself a small smile. With any luck, things would turn out okay.

The End.

#dickdami #batfam #batfam fic #dickdami fic #reyn writes #reyn writes dickdami

[iphoenixrising]

Body Swap: The Fallout

So, things have been kind of crazy and I had to stop stuff to get Fracture, 29 out of my brain pan, but I was still working on this thing for @Jayseedub after we had such a nice convo >.<  It’s the continuation of this thing. Ah, it’s very angsty because I just--I wanted a knock-down-drag-out fight between these two. I want Dick just as pissed as Tim (because of than “you’re my big brother Dick, I know you’ll always come for me,” line Tim fed him in the Red Robin comic. Such a load of crap, right?). I wanted Tim screaming, and welp, I got it. (So prepare for the feel train, it’s rolling down the track).

And a new HC that really makes me feel better about the whole Dick taking the tunic thing, but you can read about it and let me know what you think ;)

**

A few days after the little incident, he’s settled back into his usual routine: check with his team, track any nefarious activity, do any necessary tech refreshes, and dip out to track any number of leads.

He’s on the dip out part, already suiting up and packing some supplies for an extensive trip out to start up with infiltrating an underground fighting ring he thinks might be a cover for something a hell of a lot worse when the Tower’s systems tell him someone with a passcode not Titan specific has touched-down on the roof.

The systems pops up a screen so he can watch the Javelin ease down, effectively blocking his own plane from being able to take off.

Behind the whiteouts, his eyes narrow, but he’s moving to the communal floor, giving the executive override to the elevator sliding slowly to his Perch. The re-direct is going to be better for however this little convo is going to go.

He double-checks his utility belt absently as the doors slide open.

“Titans are out,” he starts, “you’ll have to pull the JL roster instead.”

Nightwing stops dead at the lack of humor or empathy. It’s just business as fucking usual--natch. And Big Wing pauses with it, calculating the last time before the body swap incident that he’d actually seen the face, the eyes, under the mask before he was staring at it in the mirror. (Why didn’t he realize it before?)

Soft click and a whirl when central air kicks in, blowing cold on his neck and shoulders, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. From behind the whiteouts, he’s staring, eyes moving over Red’s abdomen, seeing the roadmap of scars, seeing the new scores against the good guys, seeing a whole lot of vigilante without any of the kid he used to see.

That’s the only good thing about the swap now, isn’t it?

It was impossible for Tim to duck and hide if he wasn’t even in his own body.

“I really hate the sewers under the east side, Timmy,” he comes back easily, forcing it to be Tim and Dick, not N and Red. He doesn’t feel any kind of bad, “But you knew that. You’ve known that since your were in the Robin tunic, so that was a nice way to get back at me.” Now he’s moving forward, eyes for every twitch, every breath, every aborted attempt at a pocket in the utility belt, the slight twitch of the head to indicate the eyes moving for some other escape.

But, that isn’t going to happen.

Because now he sees how things have progressed. He can pick out the shadows and old pain in the slight scar on Tim’s cheekbone and the familiar furrow of his forehead--one he’d always associated with the baddies, Tim’s planning to break shit furrow (and well, who’s getting a load of that now?)

Even if Tim’s playing leader of the Titans, playing at keeping himself above the petty fucking emotions that leave him open and vulnerable, Dick, for the first time in too long sees right past the facade.

And his lip curls up in a sneer, slow boiling anger that’s been simmering for days, one that started the moment he let himself out of Tim’s Perch in a body that was fucked with new scars and lack of crucial viscera. Once he realized Tim had been lying to him the whole time--had just been playing some sort of fucked-up role-- the slow, churning betrayal turned into anger just that quick.

Tim had let himself step back and away, hadn’t trusted him enough to open his damn mouth with the Real. Fucking. Deets.

(Why did you stop talking to me?! Why didn’t you tell me it was all too much? Why did you let yourself slip through my grip? Dammit, Tim. Goddammit.)

And. It. Hurts. Hurt to know Tim pulled the deflection card on him. On. Him. (The guy that apparently lies to whoever the hell Batman is at the time).The devices they used against criminals and murderers, against megalomaniacs and psychopaths, the weapons they used to hide the meaty humanity under the capes so the baddies couldn’t break them open with it--

Their tools to stop the bad guys.

And Tim used it on him.

So when Nightwing resumes his stalk, to come face-to-face with his little bro-- the leader of the Titans (and just how fucked is it that he’s pretty sure Tim doesn’t want to be called that now, well too damn bad), his hips roll in a smooth, seamless motion anyone that knew him knew meant time to get real. Just like he suspects, like he half-hoped wouldn’t happen, Tim’s fingers flicker, probably activating the gauntlets to spit something out in his palm (he’s already re-programmed himself to be on the offensive, not to fight with but to fight against).

“I think having Hood write all over my fucking back kind of makes us even,” Red Robin comes back, neutral and empty. “Besides, Croc was still in Arkham. You’re welcome.” The asshole doesn’t necessarily have to be said to be understood.

“Even?” And it’s low, dangerous. Nightwing’s movements are precise and even as he raises the whiteouts so those electric blue eyes can hyperfocus, to give complete attention. “You think we’re even, Tim?” And Dick leans down just enough to put the two of them close, “because I sure as hell don’t think so.”

And the furrow in that forehead gets deeper, sharper, almost the time to fight furrow. “I served my fucking time as Robin, I did what I set out to do, and your protege gets what he wants. It’s fine, right? The day gets saved. So what the hell is your problem?”

Oh no. Oh no he didn’t.

Dick’s upper lips curls in a sneer, “did what you set out to do? Is that how it went? You never wanted to be part of the family in the first place? You just wanted to get being Robin done and over with because it just some obligation?”

The furrow falls away from Red’s brow because what now?

“Your mom and dad were always away, so training, fighting, taking up my name was what to you? Something to keep you busy?  Were we just a damn hobby or something, Tim? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” The warm edge is bleeding through, but finally, he seems to get somewhere.

Because Tim draws back insanely fast and gives absolutely no shits about punching him right in the face.

“Fuck. You!” And it’s Tim that’s yelling back at him, it’s Tim. Not Red, not the mask, not the cold shoulder.

Dick doesn’t fight it, doesn’t counter it, doesn’t come back even though he’s fairly pissed right the hell off, but he works his jaw a little (because that? Was a nice one) and straightens up to the clenched fists and bared teeth.

“You could have said that a long time ago,” Dick comes back because, no Tim, we’re not just letting it go, “that we were only some way to pass the time, not that you ever wanted us, just the fucking name. All you wanted was the R all that time? Would have been nice if you’d just said so, then I wouldn’t have gotten so invested in you--”

And he’s calculating, wondering how much more Tim can take before he breaks, before he finally spills out his weakness (reads as: the truth).

“I-I fucking bled for that cape, you asshole. I almost died time and fucking time again for that cape. My dad, my fucking dad, Dick,” and the hitch is still there, the utter agony, “...all-all because I was Robin. I kept Bruce on the straight and narrow as much as he let me. And what the fuck did it all mean?! What the fuck did it get me?! Thrown out on my ass? Told I was crazy? That I just had to accept it when Bruce was “dead?” How many superheroes get another chance? Like Jason-Mother-Fucking-Todd?! How farfetched is it really?”

And Dick lets him spit it out, the warming anger burning away the icy calm of Red (reads as the other Robin) to reveal slivers of Tim Drake--the teenager in pain.

That’s the face he wants to see again, his partner and friend, Timmy. Because Dick gets the vigilante now, after mapping the journey from losing the cape until now, tracking the baddies, tracking the trail to find Batman, seeing what kind of things “Robin couldn’t do,” all of it justified who and what Red Robin is. But Tim? The young, damaged kid under the mask is the one Dick needs to help, needs to see, needs to understand. And, no, he isn’t leaving until they hash this out. So, tough, Timmy. I’ve got you now.

“You couldn’t even look me in the face,” is almost screamed at him, Tim refusing to back the hell down, his hands shaking with the poison pouring out, all the mistakes and misunderstandings, all the strain and stress, the hard decisions and unavoidable repercussions. He fully intends to give back in spades. “You threw some bullshit about being equals and gave another kid my name. It wasn’t yours then. I made it mine. It’s all I had left, the only thing I had left of Bruce, and you gave it the fuck away like I meant nothing. Like I was garbage. I had nothing else left.”

But Dick moves, gripping his biceps in an unforgiving hold and already ducking a hand under Tim’s defenses to rip off the domino, to look at him, not the whiteouts.

Snarling and ferocious, wet eyes and bared teeth, seeing what happened, what those tough choices did to him, to them makes Dick’s jaw clench down and his chest fucking ache.

“You idiot. You had me. Dammit, Tim, you’ve always had me. I thought you knew that. I thought after everything, everything we’d been through, in the five years we bled together, you’d always know I’m here for you. I’m here for you no matter what. No matter what happens, or how far you go, you always have me.”

The younger vigilante in his hold, the one fighting against his grip like a bleeding, dying animal is snarling and growling in such fucking pain (and he’d missed it, missed how much he hurt Tim, how much damage they’ve done to one another without really trying).

He grips harder, not letting Tim pull away this time, not letting him hide behind Red.

“Robin is just a fake name, Tim. Dammit, Robin isn’t, was never, who you are. Didn’t you figure that out in the damn desert?” And he bares his teeth as well, shaking the younger vigilante just so he doesn’t give him nuclear noogies and months of endless cuddles. Just how could Tim be such a dumb ass not to have known? Not to have called? Not to have just said something?

Was the trust between them broken that badly? Why the hell had Dick even believed him when he said he knew Dick would always catch him? Why hadn’t he seen through the bullshit back then?

Tim’s nose is turning red, his watery eyes narrowed, every muscle tensed up for the fight or flight instinct to kick in. Dick doesn’t give him the chance. Even if he is still supremely pissed, he pulls Tim hard into his chest, wraps both arms around him tight, trapping him at the waist and shoulders, a hand on his neck, waiting for the right time to slide into his hair. It’s how Tim used to need it after a hard night, a bad run of it, and Dick is shameless in using it to his every advantage. He puts his cheek down on the top the crown of too-long hair and breathes against Tim’s ear, “You have it wrong. I didn’t think you were crazy. You weren’t talking to anyone long before Bruce disappeared. You were pulling back, pulling away, and I couldn’t help you. You wouldn’t let me help you, Timmy. You had a gun, and I know you had it in your hand the night I happened to call and check on you. I always knew.”

And the body he can’t let go of is shuddering harder in his arms at the reveal, that Dick had always known what the third Robin was ready to do, how far gone he had almost been. If Dick Grayson hadn’t called him that night, forced him to keep talking, pretty much kicked the door in to the shitty apartment in the ‘Haven with the phone still up to his ear. If Dick had just hung up the phone.

Well, they wouldn’t be here now, would they?

“I didn’t know what else to do. Dammit, being Robin was killing you and you couldn’t even see it.”

Frozen for long moments, Tim blinks rapidly against his watery vision at the plain cream wall over Dick’s shoulder because well, that changes things just a little, doesn’t it?

(Was it? Was the tunic really killing him back then? He made bad calls after Dad, after everyone-- but-but...the .45 auto was the most solid thing he’d held for a while).

“Dr. Erin O’Malley is a therapist known in our circles. How do you think Roy kicked the habit? And who Ollie saw when he came back from his soul-searching thing? Barry told her about his mom, for heaven’s sake, Timmy! She knows J’onn isn’t from around here, and Kara has big brother issues with Clark. After Blockbuster and-and Tarantula, she helped me too. Hell, the majority of her clientele are superheroes, and that’s why I called her. I was getting desperate for you to talk to someone, anyone before you did something.” And the fear might be old and dusty, but Dick’s tone gets thin with it anyway, the ‘he’s going to kill himself’ vibe crawling down his spine, that made him chase after Tim right after he left the Cave, ready to leave Gotham behind to go on his quest to find Bruce.

He feels Tim’s chest stutter against his, feels how hard Tim is biting down on his lower lip to keep the half-sob in.  The harness is digging into the thin Kevlar lining of the Nightwing suit, and he makes an irritated noise, pulling one arm away just long enough to deactivate the thing and toss it on one of the couches without really letting Tim escape.

“The not telling you about Dami taking up the mantle was wrong, and I am such an asshole for it. I’m sorry, Tim. I’m so sorry.”

He feels the tremble go through Tim’s whole body at the admission. He feels how the younger vigilante tries to ruthlessly squash what he believes is an obvious weakness by trying to pull back again, shoving his palms against Dick’s chest to get leverage. Dick just sweeps his arms by his sides and wraps himself around Tim like a blanket, walking them backwards a few feet to press Tim against the wall so he’s less likely to escape.

“I am sorry how it all happened, but I don’t regret making you move on. Someone had to break you out of the spiral before it killed you, and as much as it sucks and I hated it, it still worked. The stuff with Ra’s? We are eventually going to talk about because you, you should have called me dammit. How fast do you think I would have torn the Cradle apart looking for you? Faster than Clark when Lois is in some kind of peril. Honestly, when have I ever left you when you called? Especially when you magically lose a spleen?!”

And all the facts, all the digging, all the new information makes him clench his jaw with how much he didn’t even know, the muscle jumping against Tim’s temple and his arms unconsciously tighten even more, absorbing the progressive tremble of limbs and chest, of forced, slow breathing, and the attempt to keep control.

“I’m so pissed off right now, Tim. So. Pissed, but I’m not letting you go. Hell. No. Not this time, do you understand me?”

“Go to hell,” but the tone is thick and wet, the struggle renews with vigour, “like you have any reason to be pissed? You had no problem when that little asshole made sure I knew I was just a fucking stand-in.”

“Dami was an asshole to everyone--” he starts to placate, but pauses when he remembers the acidic tone, the honesty in Dami’s tone when he was the one wearing Tim’s face.

Maybe he’d underestimated how much Dami had an impact back then--

Obviously he has since Tim find the weakness in his hold, grips his wrist, turns on his heel fast, and throws him in a familiar move.

But since Dick was Robin, was Batman, is Nightwing, he rebounds off the wall and comes back for it, missing Tim by a miniscule margin when the younger folds his knees at just the right second.

Dick lands it on the Communal Floor’s kitchen, landing crouched on top the island without even a wobble, and stares Tim down with a frown marring his features.

“I didn’t know it was that bad, Tim. I didn’t know--”

“Of course you didn’t,” with scathing heat behind it. “It’s not like you’d want to hear anything against your fucking Robin now would you?” And all that tightly wound anger, all that pent-up pain is so obvious in the way Tim refuses to advance, refuses to let his voice raise again.

“Tim, I swear, at the time--”

“But you got what you wanted, didn’t you, Dick?” Is all dangerous now, low and pitched, the flash of Tim’s teeth in the overhead lights, “you got the Robin you wanted, the Robin that was fucking blood. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d paid enough to attention to know he cut my fucking zip line, or he’s the one that took me out of the Cave’s mainframe like I was a stain on the tunic. Even if you knew all of that at the time, what would it have really mattered? I was just the stand-in from the first time you wore the cowl, and I get it now.”

“No,” Dick snarls, leaping off the island in a smooth flow of muscle and power, countering Tim’s duck and dodge, forcing the leader of the Titans back against the wall again, “that isn’t true. That was never true,” and his voice has gone deep, dark, eyes narrowed outlined by the domino, “you were always my partner, just as much as Bruce was, so were you.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me now--” Tim comes back, his voice half-hoarse from yelling, screaming, his whole body clenched tight, “if I would have know that truth, it would have been easier from the start. Bruce didn’t hide it from me, Dick. You did!”

And that little bomb drop? Oh Bruce is going to hear about this.

Later when there would be audio and vid. Then the Batman could have his own time to address this obviously gross oversight.

For now, though, he’s going to make a hell of a lot of things very clear.

“In the beginning, I didn’t want a twelve-year old getting involved. You’re right about that. I didn’t want you to take up the tunic and neither did Bruce, so you are one hundred percent right. In the beginning, Tim, we didn’t want you.”

And just the facial ticks, the tightening of a gloved fist, the tells Tim had apparently tried so hard to train out of himself since he’d been Red, give Dick so much more than he had before-- realizing how long this had been something at the back of Tim’s brain pan.

“It would be too easy for your to get hurt, for you to die. You had a dad who would mourn you, Tim. You still had family. You still had things to lose Bruce and Jason and I never did, so no, we didn’t want you risking your life for our Mission.”

Clenching jaw, eyes getting wet again, but Dick watches Tim flutter his eyes to hold back. Not there yet, not there yet.

“But in the first year, you proved how smart and capable you are. You didn’t back down, you didn’t give in or give up. You wore that tunic like it was the only thing that mattered. You gave the role of Robin more than I did at that age or Jason did. You made Robin a force to be reckoned with, and you made us, me and Bruce, so fucking proud. So proud you stood by us and just kept on fighting. You became our family, Tim, my brother and Bruce’s son. Blood didn’t matter, it never mattered. Not then and not now. Despite all of it, you’re still and always will be my little brother and nothing, nothing is going to change that.” A little fact: he is going to pound into Dami’s skull because some little birds need to realize, the first Robin was never blood either. The ‘true son’ is going to get one hell of a lesson when he gets back to Gotham.

But for right now, for right now, Tim’s eyes are wet and blown wide in surprise, his hands and arms half-poised, frozen in shock but for the small, almost imperceptible trembling (Oh, God, Tim, how long have you felt like this? How long have you believed--?). When Tim drags in a breath, lets out a broken, choked, noise, Dick is right up in his space, gripping and holding hard by the time his eyes spill over.

It a horrible and wonderful thing at the same time, when Tim’s shaky hands come up under his arms, around his back, and grips his shoulders tight enough that the bruises are going to be epic. When Tim’s face is hidden in the side of his neck, and he can feel the tears sliding down his skin to the suit, knows the younger vigilante is still trying to fight it instead of just letting go.

Dick turns his face enough to bury his nose in the too-long hair and close his own hot eyes tight because he missed this. Missed this too much to bear.

His tone is gruff and wobbly, his hold inescapable when he finally comes out with it, “we… We may not have wanted you in the beginning, Tim but we sure as hell did in no time at all. Geeze, you’re an idiot. I mean, who wouldn’t want you? Even immortal megalomaniacs want a piece of that.”

Half-laughing and half-sobbing, Tim’s muscles try to contract, try to make himself smaller in such a familiar move that Dick blinks fast but still manages to get a few wet drips in Tim’s hair. He gives absolutely zero shits about it and manages to reach down and get an arm under Tim’s knees to lift him up high against Dick’s chest, takes them both to one of the couches on the communal floor where he can sit with Tim in his lap and hold on for as long as he can.

#I warned you #who isn't crying a little after this #fic rec #tim drake #dick grayson #angst angst angst angst #my fic #my writing #sorry it took so long babe

[raybyanothername]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Fuck Or Die, Morning After, Anal Sex, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Porn With Plot Summary:

A post Fuck or Die situation.

Dick has to deal with the after affects of a night with Jason in which they were both drugged by some crazy doctor, which includes some memories, and eventually, finding Jason.

Non-Stop

Dick entered the Batcave limping. Sneaking around with said limp would have been difficult, but Bruce and Tim would still be out on patrol. His big fear was Damian. If he was in bed like he was suppose to be, the cave would be empty.

But that was a pretty big if…

"Master Richard," Alfred's voice sent a jolt of fear through Dick's body and he...well, he froze. Thankfully, it was just Alfred and no one would ever know.

"Hey~ Alfred!" Dick's voice cracked as he tried to remain calm. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. It was a mistake. The touch had his finger colliding with the bruises on his neck and back. Dick's flinch just brought Alfred closer.

"To the infirmary," Alfred stared him down and Dick slunk towards the medical bay. He didn't bother trying to hide his limp. It was Alfred. Nothing got by Alfred. "I was under the impression you and Jason had dropped your 'perp' off at Arkham several hours ago."

Dick swallowed, jaw clenched. He wished he could control the heat rising up his neck, "Yeah, we did."

"Did you run in to trouble on patrol afterwards?" Alfred raised a brow as he helped Dick peel off his uniform. There were claw marks on his back, and bruises. The biggest issue was the bite impressions. "Did you and Jason get in to some sort of fight with one another?"

Alfred's voice was firm, and clipped. He'd never approved of inter-family fighting. Dick hadn't hear that specific disappointed tone in many years.

"It wasn't a fight, per se…" Dick's face was red as he shoved the rest of his uniform down to his ankles. Alfred's brow raised further.

"No. Not a fight." Alfred turned away from the bites and bruises on Dick's inner thighs to grab a vial from the cabinets. "Should I question you further or are you going to explain?"

Dick looked at the vial in Alfred's hand with wide, hopeful eyes. It was some weird pain drug that Bruce stock piled for emergencies. Quick healing, pain free, that could make Superman jealous. Or…well, at least Wonder Woman, maybe?

"The creepy, crazy doctor we were after?" Dick offered with a dark chuckle. He blinked away a few tears, "Specialized in pheromones and fertility drugs. We got dosed in the lab, didn't realize till after we did the drop at Arkham."

"Ah," Alfred prepared a syringe. Dick cringed as the needle plunged into the vial. "And how was Jason when you left him?"

Alfred tapped the syringe a few times, the bubbles rose to the top and were quickly dealt with. He approached Dick, brows and syringe raised high.

Dick sighed, "He left first actually. After…well, I don't think either of us felt like talking."

"You'll need to sort that out in the morning then," Alfred ordered as the needle pierce Dick's skin. A tingling feel spread over his body and Dick agreed in a quiet murmur.

When he woke up in his old bedroom Dick's only hope was that Bruce hadn't been the one to carry him to bed. The bruises on his neck were faint now, but they'd have been bright and obvious the night before.

Luckily, Dick still had some concealer in his bathroom.

"Grayson!" Damian sprang on him the second Dick exited his room. The difference between a hug and a tackle were still something they were working on. Damian's not-technically-a-smile was still a happy sight for 8am.

"Shouldn't you be at school Little D?" Dick ruffled Damian's hair as they walked down the stairs. He snarled at the gesture, but didn't stop Dick's hand when he proceeded to fix Damian's hair with a quick finger brush.

"Drake is running late and refuses to let me drive," Damian huffed, nose in the air. Tim was sat at the counter, a large bowl with a handle on it nestled in his hands.

Tim hummed around his coffee, "Not my fault you don't have a license, Demon Brat."

"Tim~" Dick warned, ruffling his hair too as he walked by towards the cereal, "You know Dami doesn't like it when you call him that."

"That is also not my problem." Tim smirked as Damian glowered at him from the other side of the counter.

Dick chose to ignore their bickering. Mostly because Tim had used Jason's nickname for Damian and his brain was currently info dumping a lot of images he didn't want top of mind with Tim and Damian in the room.

"It will be your problem should Master Damian miss his first period," Alfred said as he breezed into the room with paper bags on a tray. "Now, take your lunches and off you go."

Tim groused. Damian cackled. And then Dick was left alone with the one person besides Jason who knew that he and Jason had…

"I believe you have some place to be this morning as well," Alfred set a paper bag in front of him as well. Dick glanced inside to see a small medical pack.

With a curt nod and an expectant eyebrow raise, Alfred directed him out the door. Dick got in to the driver's seat of one of the cars in the garage and immediately cringed.

"Guess that's not fully healed either…" Dick puckered his lips and fidgeted in his seat till he found a comfortable position. He really needed to talk to Bruce about getting a car with some cushier seats.

It took him three hours and twice as many safe houses to find Jason. The man was sprawled out on his stomach atop a bed. The Red Hood gear he'd worn the night before littered the floor, which spoke volumes considering how neat Jason was usually.

Dick would have been concerned, but he was a little busy being distracted by Jason's bare ass. There was a very clear bite mark on one cheek and purpling handprints on both his hips and thighs.

-.-.-

"Fuck!" Jason cried out as Dick bite into his ass, chewing absently as his tongue moved over the reddening skin. Jason's face was shoved into the crappiest pillow to ever grace a safe house and his legs were spread wide, held tight in Dick's grip.

Dick licked at his hole, tongue darting in and out as Jason whined. Every few licks his tongue would deviate. Dick's mouthed traveled over sensitive skin to lather his tongue over the underside of Jason's cock. Just enough to keep the man on edge and not enough to let him come.

"Will you just fuck me again already?!" Jason gasped out as his dick ached around Dick's soft, wet attention. As if waiting for the command, Dick entered him in one swift stoke. Jason called out.

"Want it fast…" Dick grunted in to Jason's ear as he gripped Jason's hip to hold him still. He thrust wildly, angling himself to hit at Jason's prostate. He paused when he heard Jason's breath start to come raggedly. Dick pulled himself out to rest the head of his cock against Jason's rim before pushing back in, "…or slow?"

Jason growled at the shift in pace and Dick tightened his hold on Jason's hips. He didn't allow Jason to thrust backwards against him. Dick enjoyed the slow whine that his tantalizing thrust produced, especially as he rotated his hips.

-.-.-

Dick gulped and forced his gaze upwards to Jason's face. The fact that he was still asleep when Dick approached the side of the bed told him Jason was either very relaxed, or very tired. And the pinched expression on Jason's face did not give Dick much hope for the former.

"Uh, Jaybird," Dick lay a hand on Jason's bare shoulder. He didn't shake him. His eye caught sight of another bruise, another handprint, this one on Jason's bicep. It was just below where he'd laid his hand.

-.-.-

Dick gripped Jason's arms as he crossed his ankles behind the other man's neck. Jason didn't slow as he pounded into him. Dick's back arched off against the wall as Jason's thick cock forced him wider.

-.-.-

"What're you doing here?" Jason's voice was gravely as his eyes opened just enough to glare at Dick.

Dick cleared his throat and removed his hand. His fingers flexed and fidgeted as he avoided eye contact, "I just came to check on you."

"Uh-huh." Jason didn't shift even an inch. His eyes remained glossy even as he kept them narrowed on Dick. They flickered over him before landing on the bag in his hand.

"Oh!" Dick pulled the medical pack from the paper sack Alfred had given him, "I brought Bat-level pain drugs."

"You mean the creepy one with Supes blood in it?" Jason snorted when Dick nearly dropped the pack. Jason turned over, "I think I'll pass."

Dick stared at the little vial held inside the zipper pouch by some elastic and stiff cushioning. He really shouldn't be shocked by it's ingredients…

"How do you kn-" Dick cut himself off abruptly when he looked back at Jason. He was lying on his back now, head tossed to the side to reveal his long neck. The hickeys were distracting, but not nearly as much as the half-hard dick resting against Jason's stomach.

A groan from Jason went straight down to Dick's cock. Jason raised an arm to toss it over his eyes, "You keep staring like that Dickie, I'm gonna have to do something about it."

Dick flushed, hand moving to his face to hide the blush taking over his face. Between his fingers he couldn't help but see Jason take himself in hand. A rock formed in Dick's throat and he breathed around it in time with Jason's pumping hand.

"You're killing me, Dick," Jason chuckled and it broke off into a low moan as his cock stiffened to full attention.

A repeat of the night before was not something he'd expected when he came here. Dick's asshole actually fluttered, aching as it remembered the abused he'd put it through.

"Last night we got rough," Dick cleared his throat, he ran a hand through his hair, "We really shouldn't…"

Jason gasped as he ran his thumb over the head of his cock, "You're welcome to just watch, Dickie Bird." Dick's mouth went dry as he watched pre-cum drip over the shaft. Jason's fingers ran through it in slow motions.

"You're a tease," Dick groaned as he approached the bed. He knelt on the edge, licking his lips as he lowered his head over Jason. Fingers curled into Dick's hair.

-.-.-

Jason's grip in his hair was ruthless, fingers digging into Dick's scalp as his own head fell back against the mattress.

"Harder," Jason gasped out as Dick thrust into him. Dick bit into his throat, pulling a moan from Jason. The fingers tightened their grip. As did his ass as Dick's cock slammed into his prostate.

-.-.-

"Don't stop," Jason's fingers ran through Dick's hair, combing it back against his neck. Dick swallowed around the shaft. His thumbs stroked over Jason's hip bones. The head of Jason's dick rubbed against the back of his throat.

Dick wasn't planning on stopping any time soon.

-.-.-

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