#Location: GCPD

[logansbluetie]

Officer JT Wicker’s lines about riddler are some of my favorite lines in the whole game

this stupid line made me sad

[frownyalfred]

we don’t talk enough about the random stashes and caches the Batkids have all over Gotham. not Jason’s safe houses, not the random places Bruce buys up to keep weapons and cars — I mean the duct taped box of petty cash jammed in a random gargoyle’s mouth on the roof of the old abandoned Gotham Opera. the stash of expired protein bars Dick left wrapped up in a plastic bag and buried in a planter outside of GCPD headquarters. random ammo dumps Jason keeps all over town in strategic 1.5 square mile intervals so he’s always got a bail-out option. Bruce’s endless supply of backup comms and trackers that are glued inside the back vent of every single Green Line bus that runs through Gotham that doubles as a moving tracking net for Oracle. Duke’s candy stash that he keeps inside a light pole at the top of the Narrows for bad days. or for kids who run through the candy he usually carries on his belt. Tim’s bug-out medical bags he developed with Bruce and stores all over downtown with AEDs because he had to defib a civilian once and never wanted to be unprepared again. Cass and Damian’s constantly evolving trade of mini animal figurines that they leave on various perches/rooftops the Batfamily use. Steph’s backup gloves she hides in a disconnected electrical panel because hers always rip at the worst time. Cigarettes both Jason and Bruce keep for bribes (different brands) (same stash location) etc. the possibilities in a city as large but also as compact as Gotham are endless, especially when Wayne Manor and even a well-stocked safe house might be too far away at any given time.

[misspantymime]

Bat x Family ("A Girl?")

a/n: I'm still writing the scene where Reader and Bruce meet so please enjoy this prelude before that!

tw: mentions of human trafficking.

Taglist: @c4xcocoa, @shinning-stars, @whognuthis, @dkddkdkdkdkdkdk, @nisarelle, @tree-ag, @welpthisisboringing, @sugary-strawberry-shortcake,

Anya Forger! Child! Reader x Yandere! Platonic! Batfam

It had been in the wake of a recent trafficking bust by the GCPD when Bruce found out; that morning's front paper had a picture of a dilapidated building blocked off by caution tape and various squad cars.  

It’s not like the dingy and dilapidated building particularly stood out in any way. If anything, it fits right in with the slums of Gotham. Gray, with stone work almost slumped shamefully in on itself, the building was completely non-descript. And if that was all it was, then it could have been left well enough alone.

However, this desolate building was, for all intents and purposes, an orphanage.

As a whole, orphanages have been mostly phased out by governments around the world. A plethora of studies have shown the detriment of institutionalization of children; in the best case scenario, it only results in feelings of social isolation, however the worst cases involve trafficking and abuse. The foster-care system was the only remains of the previous institutions. That was the case in Gotham City as well.

Therefore, as a concept, this building should not exist.

However, an unknown “benefactor” seemed to be keeping the small building running. And more than few unsavory individuals were tied to the orphanage in one way or another, be it through less than literal paper trails or outright disappearances of children.

Not much talk of it had been passed around the Gotham Underworld, and any mention of it seemed to invoke an uncomfortable silence. Most remained tight lipped on the whole affair.

And it had been enough to be on the radar of Batman

However, the night he was set to investigate the location personally, there was a breakout at Arkham. Understandably, that required most of his attention, so he sent word to Red Hood about a potential deal occurring along with the coordinates.

But he should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it.

The night had run him ragged and most resources had been allocated to the breakout, so any follow up on the intel he provided Red Hood were lost in the channels. He was confident that Red Hood would know what to do with the information, so it came as a surprise to hear from Gordon early the next morning.

It was a bit inelegant, but Bruce did sleep in that morning. Which was so rudely interrupted by Alfred with a phone in his hand.

“Master Wayne?”

“Hrrg…” Bruce groaned as he rolled over in bed, like a petulant child not ready for school quite yet.

Rather than see it, he felt Alfred roll his eyes subtly before pushing forward, “Commissioner Gordan is on the phone. He is adamant on speaking with you.”

With a sigh, Bruce dragged himself from the tempting depths of his sheets. It took him more time, and assistance from Alfred, than he’d like to admit to pull himself together into something somewhat presentable. In the end, he was seated at the dinner table with a cup of coffee in a robe. Damian seemed to already have been dropped off at school and Tim was more than likely still asleep, after pulling two subsequent all-nighters.

When the phone finally reached him, it struck him how silent Gordon had remained. After a courtesy greeting, Gordon got down to business.

“It’s about the human trafficking case last night. You saw it already, right?”

“Hard not to. It’s all over the papers.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Gordon cleared his throat. “The whole ‘orphanage’ cover got them so far, but we got a tip-off about what was going on-”

‘Good. Looks like Red Hood pulled through.’

“-Wasn’t much left of them when we got there. Took everything that wasn’t nailed down. Only one we found was the potential buyer.”

‘Or not.’

Bruce sighed, “Nothing else?”

“Nothing except…”

“Except?” 

“Bruce…they were kids. A dozen of them. Oldest couldn't be more than seven.”

He fell silent.

It was only logical; an orphanage required children, after all. Still, the idea left a sour taste in his mouth, and twisted his face into an expression only Alfred could decipher as a grimace. 

“Yes, I expected that. But why are you–?”

“Bruce, there’s this girl.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, and… there’s nothing on her.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

“I mean nothing. The rest of the kids, we could at least find some paper trails on them. Birth certificates, missing child reports, even if they’re old, anything. But her? Nothing.”

“But you think..?”

“I don’t think. I know. We ran a DNA test on her and Bruce… she’s yours”

If he was a less composed man, Bruce would have spit out the sip of coffee he had taken to quell the sharp taste on his tongue.

Instead, Bruce choked on it.

a/n: I'm trying to keep things light-hearted, but faithful to the source material. Did it work? Maybe? I'm taking inspiration from the anime and from Wayne Family Adventure (which is really fun give it a read)

[novelistwriter]

The Phantom of Arkham Origins

DP x DC Prompt (Been playing the Arkham Games recently, so I got inspired to make a prompt)

Danny had moved to Gotham while Bruce was training to become Batman. He couldn't ignore his obsession but couldn't risk going out as Phantom, as he was on the run from his parents, the GIW, and Vlad. He got attacked by both his parents after revealing himself, and then they teamed up with the GIW. Jazz and his friends stayed behind to give Danny time to escape. He doesn't know what happened to them, and he doesn't want to find out if they are dead (He doesn't think he could handle it).

Danny had been doing some vigilante work as a human, using both the martial arts and magic he learned in the Infinite Realms. He uses some of his Ghostly abilities when he can, but he can't use them too much. Otherwise, he'll be found by those hunting him. He's been tracking the "Calendar Killer" when he encounters Batman/Bruce. Danny isn't appreciated in Gotham by the man.

By the time the events of Origins do happen, Danny is there the entire time. He's there when Blackgate is attacked, healing and saving any guards that were unfortunate. He only makes it to Bruce when he finishes up with Croc and escapes the cops that arrived to arrest him.

Danny is heading to Penguins ship to participate in the "Boiler Deck Fights," unaware of the Assassins that are after Batman.

Danny replaced the Electrocutioner "fight" that Batman has to do. The battle between them is almost as epic as the Deathstroke fight. But the battle ends in a tie, but technically, Batman won, as Danny fled when Batman almost got him tied up (not like it would've held him, but he will give Batman the thought that it will work on him).

Danny isn't there when Batman does the Lacey Towers and GCPD parts of Origins, as he's doing his own Vigilante work by getting to Anarky's bombs and destroying them. He learned of the bombs' locations because of the shades that came to him.

By the time Danny destroyed the third bomb is when Anarky contacted Batman but was surprised or outraged by all his bombs being destroyed already. Danny let Batman deal with Anarky, as he needed to get something from his home to help him figure out what is going on on Christmas Eve.

Danny learns of the Assassins sent after Batman with a gift from Clockwork, a Time Orb meant for him, the Ghost King, he got after his coronation. This takes up the time Batman spends in the steel mill. He learns of the Assassins meeting in the Royal Hotel with the time orb and heads there but is stopped by some shades that told him about a bomb in a building. Danny gets the people in that building out while Batman scales the Hotel, and when the Joker blows up that building, Danny is almost caught up in the explosion, but makes it out in time.

Danny spends most of the Bane Fight helping injured people hit with debris. But when the police helicopters start to come is when he uses his magic to get up there, but he arrived too late, as Bane is escaping and Batman diving after Joker. He decides to follow Bane.

Danny fights through Bane's henchmen and then Bane himself in the man's hideout, but Bane manages to get away to deal with Alfred and the Batcave under Wayne Manor while Danny is beginning to become overwhelmed. Danny contemplates whether he should unleash his Ghostly side when he is saved by Batman, who scolds him for coming to Bane's hideout, but stops himself when he comes across Bane's equipment that show that he figured out his identity.

Danny didn't listen to Batman when he was told to head home. Instead, he followed the man to Pioneer's Bridge to stop Firefly. Danny takes out some thugs guarding the bomb that Batman couldn't get to, but before he could difuse it, Firefly had returned, and he left when he heard the police officers coming. He arrived on top of the Bridge as Batman and Firefly were fighting, so he joined in to douse the flames with his magic. Like with Gordon, Batman is beginning to see Danny as an ally to count on.

When the riot at Blackgate happens, Danny is there, helping guards subdue the inmates and healing the wounded, occasionally helping Batman whenever the two of them meet up.

Danny helps with the TN-1 boosted Bane Fight by being the distraction so Batman could take him down. Danny couldn't go with Batman to confront Joker, as he is starting to feel very exhausted, he had ran out of magic during the first Bane Fight, but was using his Ectoplasm to replenish his magic for the rest of the night. When it was over and done with, Danny was escorted home by Gordon.

When Cold, Cold Heart happens, Danny is still recovering, as he overworked himself so much more during Christmas Eve than any other time he was Phantom. But after Victor Fries was defeated and saved, Batman contacted Danny to look for a way to help Nora Fries heal on the magical side of things, just in case the scientific side doesn't work.

[inotakumagf]

look out for the little guy

✶ jason todd x gn!reader

word count ✺ 6.8k

summary ✺ there are three times you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, and one time that Red Hood is late.

warning ✺ blood, death, murder, corruption, etc etc in a level that is appropriate for Gotham. Jason is in vigilante limbo here. soooo angst heavy, you might hate me. there’s hurt/no comfort & character death so proceed with caution. also Gotham is in NJ i will die on this hill

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

Your mother always tells you that your nose will lead you right into trouble. You’ve always been too curious as a kid, and that hasn't changed at all as you got older. It’s worse, even, because you’re a journalist in Gotham of all places. There’s always trouble brewing just under the skin of this city, and the corruption, the evil…it all drives you crazy. Every rich asshole in this city has their teeth dug into some drug ring or money laundering scheme or world-ending villain plot. And it's personal, because one of those rich assholes is the reason why your family fell apart. 

They’d wanted to bulldoze the apartment that you grew up in to turn it into some million dollar project and your mother had been adamant that you stay put. Rich people don’t like taking no for an answer, and they’d made it their mission to tear your family to shreds, like you were ants under their gold-plated boots. No one cared, no one ever stepped in to bring justice to your family, because the corruption ran so deep. It pushed you to journalism, so that you could document and show people the truth. It’s not your fault that the stories you were chasing went from regular corrupt assholes to superpowered and Arkham-worthy ones.

Like the story you're pursuing now, about the uptake in missing person reports across Gotham. The pattern of the kidnappings has been…weird, and—as your contact at GCPD was hesitant to reveal to you—it’s left the detectives stumped. But you’d been studying the disappearances and the victimology, and you think you’ve tracked a lead. Really, it only took a bit of effort—effort that the GCPD can’t bother to spare. Rather than hand this information over to the very incompetent and lazy police department, you’d decided that you were just going to find out what was happening to these people on your own. 

An evident similarity between all of the kidnappings is that each missing person had reportedly last been seen on fairgrounds or in parks, and you’d found similar missing reports out-of-state. In your research you’ve discovered a travelling circus group that had very conveniently travelled and performed at these locations, and it explains the pattern in which these people are going missing. And the circus leads right back to Gotham, because all things do. The Circus of Strange is very illusive on Google, but you’d found one name in association with the group. The owner of the circus, Lazlo Valentin, owns a boarded up beauty parlor right in Gotham, and—against your better judgement—you’re going to do some sleuthing.

You stare up at the sign that’s falling apart, that claims that this building is the Pretty Dolls Parlor. You take an unconscious step back. This building looks like it walked right out of an R. L. Stine book, and you’re starting to regret your “run in now, ask questions later” mentality.

“You look lost.”

You jump, fumbling with the pepper spray in your coat pocket. “Get back, or I swear I’ll…oh. It's you.”

Red Hood is a terrifying sight, and you should be more scared, but he’s kind of reformed? Maybe? It’s shaky territory, but between the creepy building and an anti-hero/vigilante/Bat-associate, you’d prefer to stay on his good side. 

“You sound very excited to see me,” he says in a deadpan. “Is there a reason we’re standing outside Stephen King’s wet dream, orrrr…?”

You straighten your back out. “Actually, I’ve been tracking the missing persons case that the GCPD has been neglecting, and I think it has something to do with this building. Lazlo Valentin…does that name mean anything to you?”

“Might,” he says. “How did you connect him to those missing people?”

You explain your theory to him, and to his credit he listens to your whole spiel, even though you’re totally rambling. When you’re done, you spread your hands out to the still-very-creepy building. “Ta-da! That brought me here. You know what, your timing is actually perfect, ‘cause this place is really freaking me out.”

He huffs and steps forward towards the building. “That’s great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a deranged scientist to stop.”

He gets up to the entrance before he notices that you’re trailing behind him. “What are you doing?”

You give him a side-eye. “I’m coming with you.”

He turns so that he’s facing you head-on. “Uh, no the fuck you’re not. Look, I don’t know if you’re looking for a thrill or if you think you’re Sherlock Holmes, but you are most definitely not coming with me.”

You frown. “I’m a journalist at the Gazette, and this is my story. Everyone thinks I’m making this up, but if you’re here then that means this is real. I want to help.”

He sighs. “You can help without putting yourself in danger.”

“But I need to know what happened to those people. If I walk away now, I’ll never find out. Please, I’ll be so quiet, you won’t even know I’m with you.”

“Not happening. But,” he says over your sounds of protest, “if you give me your contact information, I’ll give you my report of events. How does that sound?”

You want to argue, but that actually sounds like a good deal. You get your story and you don’t have to go into the creepy building? “Deal. Here.”

You dig through your wallet and pull out one of your business cards. “This is my email. And I swear your source will stay anonymous. Scout’s honor.”

He nods in appreciation and pulls off the wood plank that keeps the door boarded up. “You should head home now. Oh, and before you go…”

“Yeah?” You ask.

“Stay out of trouble.”

You grin and give him a two-fingered salute. “No promises, but I’ll try.”

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

You do try to hold yourself to his request. Especially because the report that he’d emailed you had been flawless, and it had gotten you a stand-out story. Terrible for all the people that had been turned into Valentin’s deformed puppets, but at least it got the GCPD to get up and do something. Although it had really been Red Hood that brought him in to Arkham. So, how else do you thank a vigilante that you’ll never see again, other than ensure that you never have to bump into him while following a sketchy lead?

Well. 

You swear you did try. But sometimes...life happens. It’s not like you were trying to get caught in the middle of a robbery.

You were minding your business grabbing some crappy late night “dinner” from your favorite bodega, when some guy decided that this was a great time and place to interrupt your very precious schedule to rob the store at gunpoint. You’re tucked behind in the candy aisle as this is all going on, and you can probably sneak right out the back if you had a pinch of self-preservation. But this is your favorite store on this side of Gotham,, and you'd feel really bad if you just left Angel to fend off the robber by himself when he always turns a blind eye if you're a few cents short.

You sneak up behind the guy as Angel is emptying the register into a pillowcase for him. “So…are you expecting me to roll all these coins? Because it'll take forever if I do. And this has already made my day ten times worse.”

The guy is getting impatient. “I don’t care, just put the money in the damn bag.”

You can hear Angel grumble his complaints as he complies, and that’s the distraction you need to tip toe behind the robber. Once you’re close enough, you jump onto his back. You take advantage of the loose grip he has on the gun to smack it away. It clatters as it lands somewhere near the entrance. The guy turns, trying to knock you off. Aside from getting the gun away from him, you hadn’t really thought this far. He almost knocks you off balance, and you have to tighten your arms around his neck. You kick and bite and scratch where you can, screaming up a storm. 

You and the robber tumble to the ground as he loses his balance, and you roll around so that he’s face down and you’re sitting right in the middle of his back, facing Angel at the counter. He tries to push you off, but you’ve finally pulled out your pepper spray, so you give him a taste of it to placate him. You huff and puff, trying not to look as much of a mess as you feel. Angel is already on the line with 9-1-1, and he shakes his head as you stare up at him. 

“Man, you’re fucking crazy. You sure you’re not one of those circus freaks that are always swingin’ around this city?”

You laugh. “If I was, I think that would have looked a lot cooler.”

The bell rings as the front door is pushed open. You can hear heavy boots stomping your way. 

“Wow. GCPD actually showed up to an emergency, and we didn’t have to wait an hour. Got any lottery tickets for me, Angel?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” a strangely familiar voice says.

You turn your head. Of all the vigilantes to intercept this call on the police radio, it had to be Red Hood. Goodbye to that lottery ticket.

“Oh. Hey,” you try for a casual greeting. Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

“Was I talking to the air when I told you to stay out of trouble? Or are you crazy?” He walks around so that he’s right in front of you. He disarms the robber’s gun and tucks it away in a quick movement. He crosses his arms, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s disappointed in you.

“That is not fair, man. I didn’t ask the universe to put me right in the middle of a robbery. Do you think I do this to myself for fun?” You’re still sitting on top of a pepper sprayed robber, so you don’t exactly sound sane right now. 

He extends a hand down to you, and you take it. You let him pull you off the guy, and Red Hood is quick to handcuff his arms behind his back, leaving him on the ground to groan and moan about your roughness. 

You peer up at Red Hood. “Look, I wasn’t just gonna sit back and let him rob the place. Also, he was taking change. Do you know how stupid that is? I really don’t think he was going to do serious damage.”

You don’t wait for his response, grabbing the microwave dinner, the can of Arizona, and a few snacks that you had left on the ground and placing them on the counter for Angel to ring up. You drop a few crumpled bills on the counter to pay, but before you can grab your things and head out, Angel stops you.

“You’re short a dollar seventy-five.”

You look down at the counter and wince. “C’mon, Angel, cut me some slack here. I just saved your ass.”

He snorts. “You call that saving? You looked like a cat getting sprayed with water. Besides, I’m already gonna be on thin ice from this, I don’t need to give my boss any other reason to nag me. Sorry, kid.”

You groan and dig through your bag for some more change. You grin when you find a handful of quarters in a pocket, but a very muscled arm reaches in front of you as Red Hood places a folded 5 dollar bill on the counter.

You open your mouth to thank him, but he grabs the plastic bag that Angel has placed your things in and guides you out of the bodega. 

“It was nice knowing you, kid,” Angel calls out as you leave. Very funny.

“It doesn’t matter if you thought he wasn’t gonna hurt you. You can’t throw yourself into danger based on what you think someone will do. Especially not in Gotham.”

He hands you the plastic bag, and you take it hesitantly. “Isn’t that hypocritical, though? You jump into trouble all the time.”

He shakes his head. “I’m trained, and I know what I’m getting into. You either have a death wish, or you think none of this can touch you.”

“I…,” you trail off, not sure what he wants you to say. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to wait for the GCPD to do something. I just knew that if I didn’t do anything, it would be my fault if Angel got hurt.”

Red Hood’s shoulders drop, and he lets out a soft sigh. “It’s not your fault when people like that do what they do. Just…don’t put yourself on the line like that. That’s what I’m here for.”

You laugh. “Well, you can’t exactly be everywhere, can you?”

“You never know. C’mon, let me take you home.”

You let out a low whistle. “Woah, how ‘bout you buy me a drink first?”

But you tell him your address anyways, and he walks with you the whole way back. You spare glances at him every now and then, straightening your head forward when he catches your eye.

“So,” you start, unable to stand the silence, “why do you do this? I can’t imagine it pays well to run around in spandex.”

He snorts. “First of all, I don’t wear spandex, I’m not a freak. I’m…I’m not the kind of person you think I am.”

You roll your eyes. “This is where you tell me you’re a dark soul and you hurt everything you touch. I’ve had enough ex-boyfriends, I don’t need that speech from you too.”

“This isn’t a joke. I’m not a good person. I don’t do this because I think I can change Gotham. Everything I do is out of anger and spite.”

You shrug off his words. “Well, yeah, I did report on your…debut as Red Hood. It was pretty fucked up. But I also wrote about your impact on Crime Alley. I’ve interviewed people that live there and in other parts of Gotham that rich assholes won’t go near. Whether you like it or not, people do look up to you. We—they see you as a symbol.”

Red Hood stares at you, shaking his head. “A symbol of what? That murder is always the answer?”

“That we can—should fight back. Maybe not to such extremes, but you’ve shown us that we don’t have to roll over and beg when rich men tell us to. I think that counts for something.”

“I don’t know if you're the best judge of character, trouble. Not if you think there’s any good in me.”

Your face scrunches up. “Trouble?”

He laughs. “That’s what you are. I think it's a fitting name.”

You grumble, but you can’t exactly argue against his point. You get to your apartment building then, and you turn to Red Hood one last time. “Thank you for walking me home. I’ll try not to run into any burning buildings or chase after cats in trees.”

He nods in approval. “That’s a good start. Let me see your phone.”

You comply, and he spends a few minutes on it before handing it back. “I added a number you can reach me at. It's a secure line, but if you share it with anyone I will know.”

“Oh, you like me so much you had to give me your number, huh?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing tone. “If you think you’re about to do something stupid that I’ll yell at you for, just call or send me a text, and I’ll handle it, okay?”

You blink up at him. His shoulders are tense, and you get the feeling that he’s being very vulnerable right now. “Thank you. I’ll be sure not to abuse it.”

You scurry off into your apartment building, clutching your phone like a lifeline.

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

A part of you hopes that you never have to contact him, but this is Gotham and you’re a journalist. Without intending to, you sniff out trouble like a bloodhound. You keep your messages to Red Hood as professional and concise as possible, laying out just the most basic information so that he doesn’t get annoyed with you. And you know he takes everything you say seriously, because you either write or hear about his activities all the time. 

It makes you happy to know that he takes your words and your concerns seriously. You haven’t had a lot of that all your life. 

Over time, your messages to Red Hood allow yourself to get more casual with how you message Red Hood, and as the months go by, you get to know him a bit better. His favorite book is Pride and Prejudice, though Frankenstein is a close second. He grew up in Gotham, and he’s spent almost all his life here. And the most surprising thing you’ve learned is that he likes to cook. You’d learned that accidentally. 

The first time he’d returned to your apartment since your initial meeting, he was injured and he’d hesitantly asked if you could help patch him up. After making sure he wasn’t going to die on you, you were reluctant to say goodbye. You’d just finished making your first actual meal all week, and you invited him to join you. You hadn’t expected him to say yes, but you’re glad he did. Because now, he stops by to make dinner with you every now and then. He still occasionally stops by for the purpose of getting your subpar medical attention, but most of his visits are specifically so that he can hang out with you. Red Hood might deny it, but the two of you are friends now.

You tell yourself that you’re friends, at least, because sometimes you don’t think you can chalk up how you feel about him as platonic. You stare at him far longer than is polite, but he doesn’t ever make fun of you when he catches your eye. And sometimes, he sits or stands so close that you think he might lean a little bit closer, before he realizes your proximity and pulls back.

You never thought you’d ever be close to one of Gotham’s vigilantes, least of all Red Hood. But despite all of his self-loathing, you see the sweetness that he hides under all that gruffness. He cares so much about this city, and it kind of scares you to see how much of his heart is laid out so plainly. To you, his anger and violence are evidence of how much he cares.

It makes you feel more guilty for what you’re about to do. You can’t get his face out of your head as you research and plan your current story.

You’ve heard chatter about something that the power-hungry billionaire Max Shreck is planning. It’s been very tight-lipped, especially to someone like you who is so far removed from what concerns Gotham’s elite. But you’re good at blending into backgrounds unnoticed, and billionaires sure get talkative at all the galas and charity events they attend. It sounds exactly like the kind of scheme that Red Hood would tell you to stay away from. If you bothered to tell him the hole you were digging yourself into. 

You should tell him what you’ve heard—that Shreck is working with the Penguin to drain Gotham dry. You don’t know enough about what they’re planning, but you know it will hurt regular Gothamites the most before it touches the rich parts of this city. And Red Hood would definitely take your concern seriously if you told me. But he would never in a million years let you be involved, and you won’t be able to walk away from this without doing something to help. People like Shreck are the reason why your childhood was so unstable, and you don’t want to stand by and let it happen again. 

Shreck visits the Iceberg Lounge every Thursday evening, and tonight is as perfect an opportunity as ever. Red Hood is busy dealing with an outburst from Condiment King, so you’re not worried about getting caught. 

The queue to get into the Lounge is long, and by the time you get to the front, your shoulders are shaking anxiously. You straighten out when the bouncer gives you a look over.

“Sorry, can’t let you in tonight,” the man says dismissively.

You falter for a moment before putting on your best condescending glare. “You can’t be serious. Do you know who I am? The Valestra family supports your boss quite generously, and I would hate to weaken our ties.”

But the bouncer just shakes his head. “I understand. But there’s business to be taken care of tonight at the Lounge, and we can’t let just anyone in.”

You gasp. “Just anyone? Who do you think you are? This is utterly ridiculous, and I–”

There’s an arm around your shoulder, and it distracts you enough that your entitled rant trails off unfinished. You stare at the man that has joined your side. He looks familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize that this is Thomas Elliot, the head of one of Gotham’s richest families.

“This is my guest for the night,” he says smoothly, pulling you closer to his side and walking through the entrance. He doesn’t even wait for the bouncer to let him in, he just…does what he wants. Is it that easy for people like him?

He gives you a sideways glance and a vicious grin. “You’re a pretty little thing aren’t you? Valestra, you say? Are you one of Salvatore’s pups?”

It takes everything in you not to shrivel at his words. “Third cousin actually. Sal promised me I’d have a grand time at the Lounge, and he said I must try the drinks here. If you’ll excuse me, I want to–”

The hand at your shoulder holds you close. “No need. I’ll get us a table, and the help will bring it to us. Come.”

He all but drags you to a table with velvet-cushioned seats. You curse your terrible luck for leading you right into deep shit, again. You look around for an exit from this ego-inflated idiot, but everyone is so wrapped up in their own worlds. You can see Shreck standing on the mezzanine above, having a very intense discussion with Cobblepot himself. You look away before they can notice you. 

Elliot draps a soft hand over your own as you wait for a waiter to bring over some drinks. “So tell me, dear, do you live in Gotham?

You laugh as obnoxiously as possible. “Oh, please, I wouldn’t be caught dead living in this rat-infested city. No offense, darling. I have a penthouse in Metropolis. I’d much rather be home, but you know how it is with Sal.”

He nods absentmindedly. “Hm, yes. Valestra has always been a sentimental man hasn’t he? I can’t blame you for not wanting to stay in Gotham. It's good land, yes, but as you said the rats make it so hard to enjoy it. Always complaining about their lives as if they haven’t dirtied the streets with their crimes. It’s disgusting, what they’ve done to this city.”

Your fist clenches under the table. Your vision goes white with anger, but you let out a breath to calm yourself down. You try to laugh with him, but it comes out half-hearted. Thank god, your drinks arrive, and you immediately lift the flute to your lips.

Elliot leans forward, running his finger along the rim of his glass of whiskey. “You know, you might actually be able to move back to Gotham soon.”

You smell an opportunity. “Oh? How so?”

He glances up at the pair still talking on the mezzanine. “I shouldn’t tell you, but…Salvatore’s a friend. Shreck’s investing in a pipeline through Gotham. It’ll get us a lot of money. And all those rats?” He chuckles.

He leans in closer, a weird, sultry tone in his voice. “They’ll do what they do best, and scurry far, far away. It’ll be impossible for them to afford even an inch of this city. Gotham will go back to what it was meant to be.”

Your heart thrums. You know that Elliot’s view is very misguided, because this city could never thrive without the working class. And with Arkham so out of control nowadays, landlords couldn’t afford to raise their prices. 

Still, building a pipeline through Gotham is worrisome, especially with all the toxic waste that has already been pumped into this city by the Joker and Scarecrow. The city couldn’t survive another biohazardous disaster. You need to know more if you’re going to tell Red Hood.

“Oh, that’s a relief. So this pipeline…”

You don’t continue, because a large shadow dwarfs your figure. You don’t know if you should be relieved or worried to see Red Hood standing over your table, beefy arms crossed over his chest in intimidation.

“Hood–”

“We’re leaving. Now.” He is pissed. So, worried it is.

Elliot tries to stop him, but he doesn’t stand a chance. Red Hood nudges you out of your seat. Before Elliot can protest, he places a gloved hand between your shoulder blades and guides you through the busy room until you’re out through a side door.

You try to say something, but you can feel his seething look through his mask as he holds a hand up and jerks his head towards his bike. He tosses a helmet to you, and you climb on behind him after securing it to your head. The entire ride is silent, and you know you're in for a lecture. But your mind is still so focused on what Elliot had told you. 

Red Hood lets you brew in your thoughts until he’s led you up into your apartment.

“What,” he seethes, “the hell were you thinking. Scratch that—clearly you weren’t thinking, because you were in the Iceberg Lounge. Are you serious? Is this what you call staying out of trouble?”

You try to calm him. “Hood, come on. I was fine.”

“Fine? The Penguin was there tonight. If he knew you snuck your way in—if he knew why you were there—he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you. And if I hadn’t been there–” he cuts himself off to shudder out a breath.

“This is my job, Hood. You can’t ask me not to follow a lead like this! The people need to know this, and if I can get it published in the Gazette–”

“No. You’re done. I tried to guide you away, but clearly you’re not going to stop. You will never stop putting yourself in danger.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I? I must be doing okay.”

He stares at you in disbelief. “And how long are you going to be okay when you’re acting like this? Do you know what they’ll do to you if you publish that story? They will find you, and they will tear you apart. I can’t lose you!”

You try to shrug off his confession. “This is my choice, Hood. You do what you do because you want to help people, and this is how I help people. You can't ask me to stop.”

He hesitates for a moment. “You’re right, I can’t ask you to stop. But I can make you, if you’re fired.”

You recoil, like he’d slapped you. “What? You can’t do that.”

He can’t even look you in the eye. “Wayne Enterprise owns the Gazette, and Bruce Wayne happens to owe me a favor. I can. But I don’t want to do that. I’m begging you to drop the story, to stop putting yourself in danger. Or I’ll be forced to make you stop. Please.”

You scoff. “Get out of my apartment.”

He calls out your name softly, taking a step closer to you. 

“Get the fuck out! Or I’ll call the police and tell them you broke in.”

“Thought you said the GCPD is useless.”

“They are, but I’m sure there are a few vigilantes who want to bring you in. You’re still a criminal.”

His hands hover before him, and he clenches his fists tight at your words. You hate to even say something like this to him, but you want him to leave, and this is the only way you can think to make him. 

He walks over to your window, pulling it open in a quick motion. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Please just tell me you’ll drop the story.”

You turn away from him to hide your tears. “I never want to see you again.”

He doesn’t say anything. When you turn back, the window is sealed shut and he's nowhere to be seen. It's like he was never here.

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

GOTHAM, NJ — The Martha Foundation raises a startling 3.5 billion dollars at last week’s charity gala. Mr. Bruce Wayne, the Foundation’s primary benefactor, has spoken with the Gazette about where these funds will be invested. Notably, a large portion will be used to repair the Gotham Public Library, which was destroyed in a recent explosion that has left all of Gotham shaken. While authorities have yet to confirm the source of the explosion, rumors indicate that

You groan and backspace the entire paragraph. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Everyone knows who caused the explosion, but you can’t go around accusing people in the paper, not unless you want your head on a stick. Red Hood was right, you just can’t stop looking for trouble, can you? 

The thought of the masked man makes you lean down and press your forehead against your desk. You haven’t seen him since you kicked him out of your apartment, and you can feel the loss of his presence. You can feel the pang in your heart every time you think of him and remember how you ended things. You know you don’t have the right to, because you were the one to push him away. Still, it hurts to think of him, and you want nothing more than to see him again. Maybe you’re petty for not seeking him out, but you can’t bring yourself to call him. Next week, you promise yourself. Next week, you’ll apologize and promise not to do anything stupid ever again. 

When you spare a glance at your computer’s clock, you realize just how late it is. Your work day should have ended an hour ago, but here you are, wrapped in your thoughts. You save the scrap of a story that you’re working on and shut off the dingy computer. You’ll just work on it tomorrow. Or rather, you’ll write and rewrite it a million times over tomorrow. 

The streets of Gotham are strangely empty right now. Sure, people usually stay in when it gets dark earlier, but its especially quiet. It feels like the city is holding its breath as it waits for the ball to drop, and you don’t want to be out when that happens. After living in Gotham all your life, a person gets to know when something is undeniably wrong.

You don’t notice the men following you until you’re a few blocks away from your apartment. You knew, you knew something wasn’t right. And yet here you are, alone in Gotham at night. You ignore the sound of their fast approaching boots, staring straight ahead. But another man is walking in your direction, staring right at you. They pinch you in on either side, forcing you to stop at the lip of an alleyway. You know they’re from the Penguin. You’re sure you’ve been on his radar since Red Hood had to pull you out of the Iceberg Lounge, but also the penguin themed ski-masks kind of give it away. You hope it's not the last thing you see before you die, because that would really suck. 

You weigh your options really quickly. You wonder if you can make a quick escape. But a scan over the men surrounding you makes it clear that there is no way you can take a single step without getting shot in the back of the head.

“Hey, fellas. I’ve had a really long day, so if I could just be on my way–”

They step even closer. The man in front smiles at you with cruelty in his eyes. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about messing with the Penguin.”

Before you can think, say, or do anything, he shoots you right in the stomach. You gasp involuntarily, as if surprised that a bullet was actually able to hurt you. It's a sharp pain that starts suddenly and then just doesn’t stop. You press your hand to your stomach, flinching at the contact your hand makes with sticky, hot blood. 

One of the men kicks the back of your ankles, sending you down to your knees. You wheeze, staring up as the man in front steps closer. 

He snorts. “Let’s see if your Big Bad Wolf can save you this time.”

You don’t want to just sit here and take this. You want to scream, kick, or curse them to hell and back. But it’s too late. They’re gone, and you’re bleeding out in an alley of Gotham.

Your brain scrambles up enough energy not to give up right away. What had the man said about a wolf? No, not any wolf—your wolf. Your Red Hood. You pull out your phone, trying to ignore how badly your hands shake. You find his contact on autopilot, heart clenching at the contact photo you have set of his brooding mask.

It rings once. You worry for a moment that Red Hood won’t answer, that he’ll ignore you like you did him. But he picks up after the first ring.

“Trouble?” You hate to hear the hope in his voice. You hate that you’re going to rip it away from him again.

“Red,” you say, trying not to choke on your own breath, “I need you. I can’t–”

You squeeze your eyes, trying desperately to block out your fatigue. You don’t want him to notice your pain. But of course he hears it.

“I’m coming. Where are you?”

You try to remember what street you were on, but all sense of logic has slipped your mind. You sob out, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, I’ll find you, just hold on for me, okay?” His voice calms you, and you lean back against the wall. You vaguely register that he’s speaking again, but not to you. You can tell, because his voice is now erratic and demanding.

After a moment, his voice returns to its soothing rasp. “Okay, I have your location. I’m only a few minutes away. Can you talk to me? I need to hear your voice.”

You nod, then realize he can’t see you over the phone. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause on the other side before he says, “Don’t. Don’t apologize.”

“But you were right, I should have listened to you. I was too stubborn.”

“Then apologize when you see me.”

“I miss you.” The blood loss must really be getting to you, if you’re admitting something like that so easily. But you do miss him. You wasted so much time being stupid, and you regret it so much.

“I’m almost there. Please stop talking like you’re gonna die. You’re going to be fine, you hear me?” He sounds so confident, and you desperately want to believe him.

You press your head back against the brick wall behind you. A light drizzle of rain paints your face, and you shut your eyes and pretend that nothing is wrong and that you’re not scared that Red Hood won’t come.

You don’t wait long, and it feels like only a second before a gloved hand is cupping your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, and you stare into familiar, blank eyes. Red Hood is crouched down in front of you, staring right at the hole in your stomach.

You cough, which only causes you to hack up more blood. You wince as it splatters all over Red Hood’s mask.

“S-sorry,” you gasp out. You reach a shaky hand out to wipe away the blood, but you’d forgotten the small fact that your blood is already stained on your hand. You end up spreading more blood over his mask. It makes you want to cry. “Fuck. ‘M sorry.”

You pull your hand away so that you don’t make even more of a mess, but Red Hood grasps your hand in his, keeping your palm pressed against his cheek.

“Don’t you dare apologize, trouble. EMS is en route, can you just keep your eyes on me?”

You shudder out a breath, but do your best to nod. “Please don’t leave. Don’t wanna die alone.”

You can feel his grip tighten. “You’re not going to die, I’m not gonna let that happen.”

The fervor in his voice makes you smile. “You’re my favorite person, Red.”

He dips his head low for a moment. Then, he does something you never thought you’d see. He unclasps his half-mask and lays it beside him. Next goes his domino mask. You study his face, brows furrowing at the pain in his eyes.

“My name is Jason,” he says softly, and the sound of his voice without the modular voice-changer makes you shiver. How you have the time to be lovesick as you’re bleeding out, you’ll never understand.

“Jason,” you repeat, trying the name on your tongue. “Thank you. I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your eyes crinkle at your own terribly-timed joke, but you regret it when his face falls apart in anguish. It is worse, to be able to see him laid out before you like this.

He shudders a breath and leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry.”

You run your palm over his smooth cheek, brushing your fingers against an oddly shaped scar that cuts into his lips. “It’s not your fault, Jason. You were right. There’s so much in my life that I wish I could change. But meeting you? I wouldn’t change that, even if it kills me. You are–”

You cough weakly. You’re so tired, and your body is begging you to shut down, to give up. But Jason asked you to stay focused on him, and you don’t want to take your eyes away from him. “You are the best thing that has happened to me.”

Tears flood your eyes. The thought of leaving Jason all alone makes your heart clench.

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me, okay?”

Your eyes readjust, finding his face back in your view. You hadn’t even noticed that your head had dropped. You feel the fight in your body drain. Your hand flails out in desperation. “Jay–”

He takes your hand in his carefully. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

When you don’t respond, he cups your cheek in his strong hand. “C’mon, talk to me. What was that book you were telling me about last month?”

He searches your eyes desperately. Your face has gone blank, and your eyes have glazed over.

“No. Sweetheart, please look at me. Please.”

He cradles your face between both of his hands before pulling you into his chest. He sobs without caring if anyone will see him like this, on his knees and hunched over your limp body. He mutters apologies into your hair, running a careful hand over your back. 

He can hear his earpiece crackle to life, and Babs starts speaking on the other line. “Red Hood? EMS is nearing your location now.”

He lays you gently against the concrete, making sure the back of your head doesn’t hit the ground harshly. He stands and retrieves his domino and half-mask shakily, making sure they’re secure before addressing Babs. “Oracle,” he gasps out. “Tell EMS it's a 10-45D. The coroner…the coroner needs to be here.”

Her keyboard stops clacking. “Ja–Red Hood? Are you…should I call in Nightwing? I’m going to–”

Jason turns his comm off. He knows she means well, but Jason cannot listen to her right now. He doesn't want anyone to see or speak to him. He just wants you. He kicks a discarded bottle of booze further down the alley, causing a pack of rats to scurry away. He screams into the air. He doesn’t care that it won’t achieve anything. 

Jason sinks to his knees beside your body. “I told you to stay out of trouble,” he says weakly.

There’s no comeback from you this time.

──────────𝜗𝜚──────────

[puppetwoman17]

I wonder what the batfam's reactions would be if the joker escapes wherever they sent him to, finds Tim on patrol and was like "Long time no see JJ," and then going on about how he should come home with him back to arkham and he'll help him "recover" and are trying to get to Tim's location as fast as they can while listening in on comms?

This was actually a scenario I thought of the day I found out about JJ. I feel like after what happened, Tim would do the opposite of what Jason would and has done. Instead of going to find the Joker, he would stay as far away from him or even his goons as possible. It would be like the third Robin and the Joker had no history, nothing to tie them together(which probably made Jason angry at some point).

So when he breaks out of Arkham(AGAIN, jesus), Tim, Babs, and Bruce don’t waste a minute before bringing up that Tim has another case he has to work on that is of the “upmost importance”. It’s actually just a 12 year old homicide cold case that he solved a month ago but no one has to know that. Jim knows to sweep that under the rug when RR comes by with the same exact evidence he came with a month ago.

But Lady Luck has never been on Tim’s side. The rest of the bats quickly lose track of the Joker. Babs manages to find him, but by that point, it’s too late.

Joker finds him. And he recognizes him. Underneath the new name, costume, and styled hair, Joker finds his “son”.

As you can imagine, he’s over the moon. But he’s also just as angry.

“Junior! You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t send out an email. What’s a pop got to do to get their son to notice them?”

“I’m not your son.”

“Not with that hair you’re not. Your skin’s not how I left it at all! And what happened to that beautiful smile of yours? Did the bat ruin that too?”

Tim doesn’t take jabs about his smile well. This is why. And it gets under his skin that even after using so much foundation and concealer, the Joker can still see the remnants of smile lines along his cheeks.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Junior. You know papa doesn’t like being ignored.“

“You’re not my dad.”

“Ha! Who is then? Certainly not the old bat. Anyhow, this isn’t about him. It’s been so long, kiddo. Why don’t we stop by the old warehouse and have a chat. Maybe even pick up Mama while we’re at it.”

“Harley would rather die than go with you, and I’m not following you anywhere. Batman already has your location.”

That brushes the smile off the freak’s face. The expression he has on now is sickly reminiscent of how he was when he, Tim, and Harley played family years ago. It’s not a look he gives to other people. No one else has seen it, so they might think Tim a liar. But he can’t deny the parental disappointment in the man’s eyes.

“I know they don’t know.”

Now that. That really gets to him.

“None of your business.”

“It it, but you’re welcome to deny it. I believe it’s just the old bat, the beat up cop, and Ms. Gordon, correct? Not even the first Robin! Ha! I wonder what the second bird would think. Not to mention the girls! Oh! And we can’t forget about little old Signal.”

Tim doesn’t need him to tell him. He’s gone over the scenario so many times it drives him mad. What each of them would say. What he could do to make them think differently. What he would have to do if they found out. Where he could run to. It never gets easier.

Joker is trying to scare him. That’s the only conclusion he definitively has. And aside from his general psychotic tendencies, he genuinely believes he and Tim are family.

By the time Batman arrives with the GCPD, the Joker is tied and ready for extraction. But the villain’s smile is no less fear-inducing.

“You know I’m right, my boy,” he says as he’s take into the back of a truck.

“They’ll never look at you the same way again.”

It’s only when everything is over that Tim takes the time to look over his gear that he finds his mistake. One that the Joker knew about. One that he exploited.

When he shut off the comms, he didn’t shut them off. In his delirium over his past, instead of closing them off, he muted them. While he couldn’t hear any of their chatter, they definitely heard his. And he didn’t send Babs his acceptance to shut his comms off, something she couldn’t do without express permission.

So when he unmuted the comms, you can only imagine what he heard.

[p-seduonym]

I'll expand another time but these are my notes for the Cult of the Lamb! Reader X Yandere! Batfam AU

A/N: I am very sick, so I can't really expand that much right now. But here are the bare bones of the au. Hope you like it! Also, I chose the name based off of my last playthrough of the game. And I don't know the legality of cults, but lets say they can coast by under the GCPD's radar for a little, okay?

Overall Plot

Bat-Lamb, a Lamb metahuman, is the central figure of a cult disguised as a “home of spirituality.”

Cult is located deep in Gotham's underbelly, with around 40-50 followers.

They don’t refer to themselves as a cult; it falls under a religion legally, so law enforcement can’t do much.

The cult appears idyllic, which makes some heroes (like those in the Bat-Family) suspicious.

The cult's base is called "The Meadow."

Powers and Role

Only Bat-Lamb has powers, granted by the One Who Waits

Their power grows with devotion from followers.

Powers include: mind reading, manifesting weapons, brainwashing, resurrection, healing, making crops grow.

They perform miracles, which leads the cult to worship them more than the One Who Waits.

Bat-Lamb is feared by some members due to their abilities and "unspeakable" punishments.

Cult Culture & Beliefs

Cult members are family-oriented and place huge importance on marriage.

Marital robes resemble cult robes but are longer.

All cult members wear red robes with a white ram’s horn symbol.

They view non-cult relationships as shallow or loveless.

The cult believes only they understand true romantic love.

Festivals (with bonfires and feasts) are common and used to recruit outsiders.

They sometimes hold public-facing events to indoctrinate new members.

Rules & Dynamics

No lying to Bat-Lamb, as Bat-Lamb can read the thoughts of followers.

Bat-Lamb claims to love all followers equally, regardless of their past.

Followers are not allowed to betray Bat-Lamb—betrayal may trigger the "unspeakable."

They often close ranks against outsiders but may have internal betrayals for survival.

Followers show jealousy, squabbling, and sometimes infighting—but Bat-Lamb intervenes to stop it.

Disciples take care of dissenters or those who try to leave, unbeknownst to Bat-Lamb.

Recruitment & Indoctrination

Recruits often include outcasts, homeless, and those with nowhere else to go.

Bat-Lamb offers them a home and a sense of belonging.

Some join out of love, others from desperation.

Dissenters may be “re-educated” through brainwashing or psychological manipulation (often via a pillory).

Missionaries are sent out to recruit followers or gather resources.

Relationships

Although Bat-Lamb views them all equally, Bat-Lamb’s spouse is seen as a higher caste member—used as proof of "true love" within the cult.

The relationship is seemingly healthy, with mutual trust and understanding. But the spouse was chosen seemingly at random.

Other followers may feel romantic or obsessive feelings toward Bat-Lamb, causing tension.

Bat-Family eventually discovers Bat-Lamb’s identity, that being the missing middle child of the Wayne family, and tries to rescue them, but Bat-Lamb refuses to leave.

Conflict & Paranoia

Bat-Lamb is deeply paranoid about betrayal, especially from within.

They believe the cult is their true family and will not abandon it.

The cult is both manipulated by and manipulating Bat-Lamb.

Some members are not true believers, which might lead to drama or eventual collapse.

A/N: ya ain't a true Wayne child unless you're paranoid about literally everything. I might get into the Batfam's relationship with Bat-Lamb later when I'm not dying from consumption (/j). Also also, i used Mashed on YouTube's animation of Cult of the Lamb as some inspiration. Really good, give it a watch!

[thealtoduck]

Secret Saviour

Damian Wayne x Male Reader

Warnings: None…

Part 1: Being the son of Roulette and meeting Damian Wayne…

Summary: When Bruce goes missing Damian finds an unexpected help in Y/n Sinclair…

(A/n: I changed the title from the poll)

——

Ever since the two of you studied together you and Damian had grown fond of each others company. Despite that Damian would never admit this fact, he insisted to his family that he was simply investigating you to see if you were somehow involved with your mother’s criminal activities.

He hadn’t actually found anything suspicious connecting you to Roulette yet which pleased him. Because according to him it means ”he dosen’t have to contact the GCPD… yet”. But Damian would have to put his ”investigation” on halt for a bit.

One dark night during patrol Bruce had suddenly disappeared without a trace, no comms could reach him and they had no way to track him except for the Batmobile’s last location, which hadn’t revealed the slightest hint. His allies looked for him for days trying to find even the smallest clue that would at least let them know he was alive but nothing.

Just when they felt like there was no where else to look they got a call from the watchtower. They answered and Martian Manhunter appeared on the screen of the Batcomputer.

”Hey J’onn, good news I hope” Dick greeted. ”The watchtower recieved an urgent message about Batman’s current whereabouts from an unknown source” J’onn said and another voice started playing from the speakers, one which Damian recognized…

”Is this the watchtower?” A voice came over a weak signal making the sound crackle lightly. Despite the bad audio quality Damian knew that voice immediately it was Y/n’s voice. ”I know Batman has disappeared and I think I know where he is, have someone meet me on the 4th floor of parking garage next to the Royal Hotel, on Wednesday at midnight and I’ll tell you what i know”.

The message then ended and J’onn said ”I’ll let you decide how to deal with the informant, make sure to be careful, contact the League if you need any further help, good luck”. Then he hung up and disappeared from the main screen.

”Do we go meet the informant? It could be a trap to get us too” Duke questioned. ”We don’t have anything else to go off, this could be our only lead, we have to go” Tim stated. ”How about two of us go meet the informant, while the others keep watch in the surrounding area and Oracle monitors, incase it’s a trap” Dick said drawing up a plan.

The others muttered and nodded in agreement of the plan. ”I wanna meet the informant” Damian then voulenteered on impulse making the others turn to him suprised by his eagerness. But Damian needed to make sure it was you, even if you might be luring him in to a trap.

”Alright” Dick said and walked them through the plan ”Me and Damian meet the informant on the 4th floor. Jason, you keep an eye from above the top of the Royal Hotel. Cass and Steph, i want one of you on the 5th floor and one on the 3rd floor, incase we need back up. Duke and Tim, you’ll watch from the building across the street, everyone clear?”.

The each member of the team uttered a quick ”Yes” in understanding. As Damian went to bed he knew needed to keep an eye on you tommorow.

——

The next day when Damian attended school he was on the watch for you. Once he found you, you greeted Damian as you usually did but as you got to class he noticed you seemed off. You were usually the more talkative out of the two of you but today you seemed distracted, almost nervous today.

When you got to lunch time and you and Damian sat down together he questioned ”Are you okay? You’re being quiet”. ”Oh… no I’m fine I just got a lot to do, so just a bit stressed you know” you answered vaguely.

The fact that Damian had pointed it out, made you seem more focused and yourself, he assumed it was to not seem suspicious and make him ask more questions. Once the school day ended you were quick in saying goodbye to him before you got in to a car as your chauffeur took you home.

——

Later that night Nightwing and Robin grappled to the 4th floor of parking garage and started looking around. There were some cars parked there that they kept a watchful eye on in case any goons were hiding inside. Soon the two spotted a figure dressed in all black.

The figure was looking down to the streets below the garage. The two approached slowly ready to grab their weapons in case of an ambush. As they stopped behing the stranger he turned around.

Damian had been right there you were hidden in a black hoodie. Not something you’d usually wear but Damian understood it was for stealth purposes. And even then he thought black suited you well.

Dick however was caught slightly off guard a kid was the one who had made an emergency call to the Watchtower…

”Thanks for meeting me” you said, your voice cautious as you looked around to see no one would hear you. ”So, what do you know?” Nightwing asked.

”I think that Batman was taken by the criminal, Roulette, ever heard of her?” you started. ”Yeah, she’s the one who runs those illegal cansinos, what makes you think she’s behind this?” Dick asked.

”I… have sources who work closely with her” you said Robin and Nightwing noticing the slight hesitation in your voice. ”They say she’s advertising a special event with her superhero cage fights that started around the same time Batman went missing” you explained.

”Any idea where she might have taken him?” Robin spoke up, his voice throwing you off for a moment, Robin sounded kinda like Damian. You got back on track and answered ”My guess would be her casino in Las Vegas, it’s her biggest one, she holds all her major events there and I think she’d make having captured Batman, a big event”.

You held out a flash drive in your hand and said ”This contains the layout of the Vegas casino”. Nightwing picked it up and said ”Thank you, you’ve been very helpful to us”.

”It’s the least I could do after all you’ve all done for the city” you told him with a small smile. ”I have to leave now” you told them. ”Good luck” you said walking off, you felt someone grab your shoulder.

Making you turn around being met with Robin. ”You shouldn’t walk home alone, It’s dangerous this late at night, someone should escort you” he stated. You smiled at him. ”Don’t worry I’m a tough boy, who can take care of himself, thanks for the offer though” you stated, a teasing tone to your voice and you once more turned around and strolled off.

——

Dick and Damian then started their drive home in the Batmobile. ”I wonder what sources he had, hope he’s not mixed up in that crowd, he seemed pretty young” Dick said with a worried tone.

”That was Y/n Sinclair, he probably got the info straight from Roulette herself” Damian revealed. ”Oh! That was your boyfriend? The one you’re ”investigating”? He seemed nice, I like him, Good pick” Dick stated.

”He’s NOT my boyfriend!” Damian said annoyed.

”You just offered to walk him home” Dick accused. Damian glared at his brother and said ”Just to make sure he stays out of trouble”.

”…Right” Dick said not believing a single word Damian said.

[parker-artio]

It was an attack during the day time, Duke needed backup, he couldn’t be at the three attack sites all at once, so he calls Barbara and she sends Batman and Red Robin. Dick is still at work, Jason if off doing something, Cass is at her ballet class, Steph is at one of her classes, Damian is still at school, and Barbara couldn’t get ahold of anyone else.

So when they arrive they split up and go to the three attack sites, it goes to plan and everything works out in the end. They meet up at the center of the three attacks where the GCPD is located with the containment buses. They put them away and they stay there to help any civilians, as this was the safe haven during the attacks.

Tim is about to help this one guy when he notices his hat

‘Make America Great Again’

Tim almost walks away, but remembers that he’s supposed to help others, and ignore their differences, so he starts to help this man, who is probably around the same age as Jason, when he notices a tattoo of something on his arm.

Tim internally reminds himself that Bruce and Kate are both Jewish. That’s not a good symbol. The hat is not good. But he still has to help him, right?

Right?

Duke notices his hesitation and walks over, asking if something is wrong. Tim looks at the tattoo than at Duke. He picks up on it immediately.

“Didn’t B say it was okay to like- p-word these kinda guys?”

He very much did.

Tim looks over at Bruce and sighs. If he gets benched, he gets benched.

So he punches him.

Bruce is surprised but then he sees the hat and the symbol and shrugs it off. He pats Tim on the back and calls an ambulance for the guy as he was knocked right out.

All three of them go back to the cave, just to find out that the meme ‘Red Robin punched a Naz¡’ is already trending. Tim sees someone joke that they were both on the ‘red’ side, so he becomes Blue Robin for a few weeks before he gets tired of being compared to Nightwing.

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

Outgoing Call

A Jason Todd x reader story. It's funny, until it's not. Then it's angsty.

MDNI, NSFW, not smut but mature language. Excessive swearing, sexual situations, you know the drill. use of a slur, but in jest. content warnings for addiction.

I have no idea how long this is.

---

Jason doesn't want to be here. The stupid fucking pageantry of the Batcave gets on his nerves and sets his teeth on edge, always has. A whole-ass cave is fucking unnecessary, Jason makes do with a handful of safe houses—apartments really—and a storage unit. Bruce, sitting stoic at the computer in his full Batman getup and looking right at home among the exposed rock and towering ceilings that end in darkness, never seemed to know when to stop. It irritates Jason to no end.

Dick and Tim's blind chirping chatters angrily in his ears, and Jason considers putting on the helmet to block them out before he remembers he left it at his place. Damn. He’s going to have to experience this stupid meeting unfiltered.

Jason only realizes they're trying to get his attention when Dick taps him on the shoulder.

"You okay there, Little Wing?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and nudging an elbow into his gut. It's enough to make a swell of vomit claw its way up his throat. Jason swallows down with a grimace. "Yes, dickface," he snaps. "Just wondering when we're going to get this fucking show on the road."

Dick shrugs, and Jason's secretly glad he's not offended. He probably wouldn't be acting so much of a shit if he didn't go and overdo it at some unknown dive bar last night. It's possible Jason is mixing up his eager disgust with Batman and Co. and alcohol poisoning.

Like he isn't part of Batman and Co. Bruce grunts, and Dick and Tim refocus, alert. Jason does the same, then forces himself to relax. He ildly imagines shooting himself in the face.

"You know why you’re here," Bruce starts. Actually, Jason doesn't. He didn't read the report Bruce sent him, but whatever. He can figure it out with context clues.

"Oracle has a new lead on the cyber-crime case. She managed to override the suspect's phone and took control, creating an essential bug. It goes live in one minute."

Right. The hits on Gotham National Bank, GCPD, and the mayor’s office. Plus an attempt on Oracle's highly protected Batman case files. Jason doesn't know why he's here, he doesn't give a shit about this case. If the hacker manages to get into Bruce's stuff, he'll take them out to dinner himself.

"Do we have a name?" Tim asks.

"No, and no location either. The security on the phone is too tight, Oracle could only get outgoing calls. She'll silently trigger a call to a secure line. Our side is muted. We only have until the suspect realizes the call is ongoing."

Jason sighs, tries to settle in for the next few hours. He reluctantly takes a seat in front of the computer, furthest away from Bruce. Tim, teacher’s pet that he is, pulls out a notebook and pen. Bored, Jason thinks about what he's going to do when Bruce finally lets him off the leash. His thoughts go to your apartment, your bedroom, before he remembers that after last night, he's definitely not welcome there.

He slumps down in his seat. Oh well. It's for the best.

"Call goes live in three, two, one."

The cave is silent. There are a few gentle beeps as the call connects. Quiet, then, a subtle clacking of computer keys.

He catches Tim shoot Dick a look. Well, they're in.

The clacking continues uninterrupted for a few minutes. "Location still unknown," Dick murmurs. Suddenly, there is the sound of shifting fabric. The phone is in the perp's pocket, Jason thinks.

"You done in there?" someone calls. "I just cleaned my shower, don't get it all gross. You'd better not be shaving in there."

Location known. Perp's apartment. Tim all but flies to the computer. "Searching for voice recognition," he explains. Bruce nods.

"What? I can't hear you." The audio crackles, and then there's the sound of footsteps, the rain of a shower.

"I said, relax, I'm not shaving my pubes in your apartment, you asshole."

What the fuck? Jason stiffens, then internally recoils, trying not to sit at obvious rapt attention. He quickly surveys the room to see if he got away with it. Dick seems like he's trying not to laugh, and Tim looks mortified. He feels rather than sees Bruce shift minutely in his direction. Fuck. Fuck. He may have been made.

“Unknown person. Accomplice?” Tim mutters under his breath. “Attempting voice recognition.” As if Jason needs Tim’s tricks to recognize who's on the other end of the line.

"Good, I don't what that shit clogging my drain."

"It's just pubes, moron." Jason knows that voice, knows that tone, even on the phone, where he's been a million times over the past four months. He can imagine you rolling your eyes to match. "You have them too, you know, it's not just women.”

What the fuck are you doing in their perp's shower?

"Girl pubes are gross. I'll stick to men's, thanks."

Bruce's fingers move over the keys, gently moving Tim to the side. He's definitely writing out "homosexual" in the perp's file. If Jason had anything left to spare, he'd laugh out loud. But he's too busy furiously trying to figure out what you're doing there (and if you're in danger, and if he should be jealous) while keeping his reactions to himself. He doesn't need anybody knowing about his girlfriend.

Well. Ex-girlfriend, or at least soon to be.

"Speaking of men's pubes," the perp, starts, "how's Jason?"

Oh. Fuck. Jason's tongue shoots to the roof of his mouth. He doesn't think anybody noticed. Except Bruce. Maybe. He still might be in the clear. There are a lot of Jasons, but if you keep talking about him eventually Gotham's greatest detective is going to put two and two together.

He can almost taste vomit again as the thought crosses his mind. That would actually be really, really bad. Bruce wouldn't hesitate to use Jason's connection to you as a way to move forward on the case, Jason’s feelings be damned.

"He's okay. I mean, I think. I haven't seen him in a few days."

"Really? Is that weird, does he do that often?"

"Nah. Well, nah, yeah, he does it often," you say with a laugh. "It's fine, he always resurfaces." The trust evident in your voice grates against his skin, then settles warmly in his heart, then drops to his stomach. That was one of the things he liked most about you, that you didn't question his weird schedule or habits. Though he never allowed himself to think about what that might mean, how that meant you felt about him. It hurts more than he expected to hear it now, to have you connect the dots so clearly in front of him.

"What does Jason even look like? You've never actually told me." Shit.

"I dunno," you muse. "He's tall. Blue eyes, black hair.”

Jason hears Tim shift in his seat, feels Dick's eyes on him. Shit. Shit.

"You're bad at descriptions," the perp sniffs. "Here, let me find him. What's his last name?"

Your sheepish chuckle echoes through the cave. "Uh, I actually don't know."

The perp snorts. "Well, you're a goddamn idiot."

"Thanks, dipshit. His profile said Jason T."

Jason swears, swears, he doesn't react, but it doesn't matter. They know him too well. They have him. "Holy shit," Tim whispers. Dick lets out a low chuckle. "Putting yourself out there, Little Wing?"

Bruce clears his throat. "Name?" he asks Jason. Of course that's the only thing on his mind right now.

Jason shakes his head. "No fucking way," he snarls.

"Good enough," the perp answers. The sound of the shower fades as he walks back to the computer in what must be another room.

Soon the clack of computer keys crackles across the line. Jason braces himself. Let's see how dangerous this hacker really is.

Another comm line buzzes to life. "This is Oracle," Barbara announces. "Someone's putting out a search for Jason T, dipping into some private data. I swept everything out with your face and name."

At almost the same time-- "What the fuck kind of website are you on now?" you call from the shower.

"CCTV footage. GCPD and private contracts."

"Oracle," Bruce barks. "Any CCTV footage?" Jason wishes he were anywhere else. Surely, surely, he doesn't need to be here for this nightmare.

"GCPD footage is protected," she answers quickly. "Checking now. Wait--"

"Got it!" the perp sings. "Data breach," Oracle reports. "They got you, Hood."

"Noted," Bruce grunts. "Any connection between Jason and Red Hood?"

"Negative. Shutting them out now." Barbara's fingers fly over the keys.

If anything, the perp's are even faster. "Fuck, he's so hot. Holy shit. You didn't mention he's ripped. " Dick bumps Jason's shoulder, then easily dodges Jason's punch. "Red Hood," Bruce intones.

"Don't start," Jason threatens.

"Someone's trying to kick me out," perp calls to you. "I've got, maybe, fifteen seconds. Just enough time to zoom in on his ass."

The sound of the shower stops, plastic rustling as you pull back the curtain. "Yeah, zoom in on his ass."

"Wow. I hope you're fucking that shit up," the perp says. This is officially too much for Jason. He feels himself start to turn red.

There's the sound of footsteps again. Maybe it's in his head, but Jason feels like he recognizes it, the pad of your bare feet across the floor. "Don't worry. I'm eating that shit out every day of the week and twice on Sundays." Jason almost shits his pants as Tim sputters and Dick cackles.

"Quiet," Bruce commands. Jason wants to punch him.

"--disgusting," the perp is saying. "I can't believe you do that."

"I can't believe you don't," you shoot back. "Aren't fags supposed to love that?"

"Watch it," the perp warns. For a flash of a moment, Jason wonders if he's going to get angry at you, if you're in any danger. If he should rush in and save the day, if he has an excuse to see you again.

"Do you have to specify that in your Grindr profile?" you press on, delighted.

"Everyone's different, you cunt." The perp's voice is fond, and Jason relaxes slightly. "Speaking of which--" the line muffles and shakes for a moment. "I got a message I need to look at."

Grindr profile, Jason mentally notes. The sound is clearer now, the perp must have taken the phone out of his pocket. "Hm. I think this man needs a dick pic," the perp says thoughtfully. There's the metallic sound of fingers fumbling with a belt buckle.

"Christ, are you taking one now?" For the first time, Jason stops to wonder what your relationship is with this guy. Are you friends? Did you used to hook up? He tries to ignore the jealousy rising in his blood.

"Yeah," the perp sounds unconcerned. "Hurry up and get dressed, I can't get it up with a naked woman in the room."

Jason winces. He looks over at the others. Tim looks almost green in the face, and Dick is grimacing. This is quickly turning into porn audio, not exactly something he wants to listen to with Dick and Tim, much less Bruce. There's the sound of the phone being set down. Jason prays it's far enough away that it doesn't pick up what the perp is doing now.

"Do you want help?" you say after a moment. Tim gasps and whips his head toward Jason. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jason grits his teeth. He doesn't know what he did to deserve listening to you jerk someone off with his whole fucking family next to him.

Thankfully, thankfully, the perp snorts. "No!" he sneers as you cackle in the background. "I don't want your gross women hands anywhere near my dick." No past hook ups, then.

"You are so close to misogyny that if you're not careful it's going to smack you in the face."

"That's not what I want smacking me in the face," the perp sighs. "Hence, the dick pic."

"Well, you've got your work cut out for you,” you say. “You have the most hideous flaccid penis I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Shut up,” the perp snaps. “It’s normal!”

“Hit a nerve did I?” You’re clearly amused. It makes Jason miss you enough to shake his head. Ugh. Apparently the alcohol didn’t flush the sad out of him.

“C’mon, help me out here,” the perp says, ignoring you. “What do you think of when you want to flick your bean?”

“Jason,” you say instantly. It makes him grow warm, then sick.

“Wow, she’s got it bad for you,” Dick murmurs. Not for long. “Nice job, Little Wing.”

“I’m happy for you,” Tim pipes up. Jason scrubs a hand over his face. He can’t take much more of this.

“Yeah, I can see why. Can I think about him?”

“No!” you snap as the perp laughs. “Fine, I’ll just think about Nightwing’s sweet, sweet ass.”

Jason’s out of the hot seat. Finally. He looks at Dick, ready to give as good as he got. Unfortunately, Dick doesn’t look offended. He’s grinning, the arrogant ass.

“Okay, I’m good.” They hear the artificial sound of camera. “God, that took forever. Send.”

Dick’s phone pings, Grindr notification echoing through the cave.

“Holy shit,” Tim mutters. “This is the best and also worst day of my life. Can’t you two keep it in your pants?”

Dick shrugs, but he looks embarrassed. “Would you believe me if I told you it’s not for the case?”

Your voice on the line cuts across anyone who would answer. “An unsolicited dick pic?”

“Nah, he sent me one earlier. Wanna see?”

Tim sounds like he’s choking. Bruce’s jaw is working, but thank god he’s quiet. “Nah, dude. I’ll leave that for you,” you answer.

“Dick,” Bruce says lowly. Dick can’t meet his eyes. “You may have to cut off communication.”

“What? Why?” Dick protests. Bruce opens his mouth to answer, but you do it for him.

“Couldn’t you hack his phone from that? Have you ever done that before?” you wonder.

“No.” The perp is quick to answer. “That’s a line I won’t cross.”

“See? It’s fine!” Dick insists. Bruce grimaces, but doesn’t say anything. The sound of a phone going off saves Dick from further embarrassment. Jason wishes he could have caught their attention for longer. He needed a break.

“That’s you,” the perp says. “Can you see what it is?” you ask. “I’m still getting dressed.”

“Sure,” the perp says, floor creaking as he crosses the room. “It’s your mom. Want me to answer?”

“Yeah, what did she say?”

“She’s asking if she can call tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You can let her know.”

Jason hears rustling, the sound of you pulling your clothes on. He connects it to the sound of him doing the opposite, of tugging your clothes off and tossing them to the floor.

Damn. This is harder than he thought.

“You also have a text from Jason,” the perp offers.

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh. “I’ll read it later.”

Wait? You haven’t read it yet? Jason feels rooted to the floor. No wonder you said so many nice things about him.

Shit. Shit. He shuts his eyes. He knows what’s coming next.

“Dude,” the perp says. “Dude. I think he broke up with you.”

The cave is dead silent.

“What.” Your voice is flat. “What.”

Jason rests his forearms on his hands, head hanging down between his knees. When he sent you the breakup text, he didn’t think he would have to hear you react to it.

Maybe it’s what he deserves.

“He broke up with me over text?”

“Yeah.” The perp’s voice is gentle. “Yeah. Yeah, it looks like it.” The perp pauses. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” At least you have a good friend, even if he is a wanted criminal. Not like Jason isn't, too.

“What the fuck. What the fuck.” Jason’s never heard your voice sound like that. He feels familiar bile rise in his throat. “What did he say?”

“You want me to read it to you?” Dick shoots Jason an alarmed glance. Whatever. It’s not like he has any privacy left anyway.

“Yeah. Yeah, read it to me. Actually, wait. How long is it? How many lines?”

There’s silence as the perp counts. “Four.”

“Four?!” you shriek. “Four?! That dumb motherfucker ended a four month relationship in four lines of text?”

“Jesus, Jason.” Tim mutters. Jason can’t even blame him.

“Uh…yeah.”

“Oh my god.” You’re seething. “Oh my god. I’m going to kill him.”

That’s fair.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to take the gun he thinks I don’t know he has taped under his mattress, and I’m going to shoot him in the penis!”

Dick bursts out laughing, but Jason has bigger problems. You found the gun?

“He’s got a gun taped under his mattress?” The perp asks, before Bruce adds “Jason, what does she know?”

“Nothing!” he yelps. “Nothing, I didn’t…” he trails off as your voice picks up again.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s some common criminal or something. His apartment’s definitely a safe house, there’s like, nothing in it and only non perishable foods. Whatever.”

“Dude, I think it’s more than whatever.” Jason agrees with the perp. You shouldn’t be with some common criminal. You shouldn’t even be with him.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now! Because he dumped me! Over text!” Your shout rings hard in Jason's ears. “Read the text to me. Read the fucking text.”

Ugh. This fucking rips. Jason would brace himself, if he had anything left to brace.

“‘I’m sorry babe. We have to end it here. It’s not you, it’s me. Hope you had fun.’” It sounded worse read aloud.

“Damn, Jay. That’s low,” Tim comments.

"'It's not you, it's me?'' Dick says incredulously. "Seriously, Little Wing?"

Shockingly, Bruce clears his throat. "Jason--"

"Nope. No. You shut the fuck up right now." Jason's anger is so quick, and blissfully distracting. "You don't get to lecture me about anything, especially this shit."

It seems like, on the line, you're matching his energy, bar for bar. “‘It’s not you, it’s me’? Is he fucking serious?”

“As a heart attack, apparently.”

You let out a small scream. Honestly, Jason didn’t know you had it in you. “Holy shit. I’m so fucking angry.”

“I can see that,” the perp says carefully. “Do you need anything?”

You seem to ignore him. “Oh my god, I am going to read this man for filth. This dumb motherfucker thinks he’s Holden Caulfield.”

Jason opens his mouth, slack-jawed, dumbfounded, as the perp lets out a sharp laugh and Dick sniggers. “Okay, yeah. Let it out, babe.”

“This dumb motherfucker watches Fight Club and thinks it doesn’t apply to him.” You’re on a roll. “This dumb motherfucker holds up any spherical object, says ‘alas, poor yorick,’ and creams his fucking pants.”

Dick and Tim are practically rolling on the floor. Jason swears he sees Bruce crack a small smile.

"This dumb motherfucker is one homoerotic experience away from a Richard Siken poem."

"I like Siken," the perp says defensively. "Come on," you sneer. "'You're in the car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you he loves you, but he loves you,'? What the fuck does that mean? He won't tell you he loves you but he does? Screw that!"

You pause, heavy breathing echoing across the line. "'He won't tell you he loves you. Why couldn't Ja--" you cut yourself off quickly. "Fuck. Fuck."

Jason squeezes his eyes shut, fingernails gripping his forearm with enough force to draw blood. He didn't realize this would upset you so much. He's done the in and out, three-month fling so many times it's hard to count. He gets close enough that the sex gets really good but not close enough that it gets messy. It's not supposed to be like this. Sure, he'd made an exception in your case, but he didn't think it would get so bad. He just couldn't help himself. You were too cute, and funny, and easy to be around. You had slid into his life like a hot knife through butter. The parts he was willing to show you, at least. Or maybe, the other parts too, he thinks, remembering your threat to shoot him with his own gun. You definitely don't have anything to do with the criminal underworld, and Jason would prefer to keep you on the surface of that. But maybe there was more than you could handle. You thought he was a common criminal, but you had stayed anyway.

And Jason's not a common criminal. Not that that's anything to take pride in, but still. He has finesse. And he's been playing by the rules enough lately that Bruce invited him back to his lair. That probably counts for something, somewhere.

And you clearly didn't mind criminals, if you were friendly enough with their perp to shower at his house and let him go through your phone. You definitely knew he was a hacker, you'd mentioned it enough times. Maybe--

"You okay, sweetheart?"

"Fuck off, Jess," you snarl.

"Yes ma'am," the perp (Jess. Name acquired) says. "I'm sorry you're upset," he adds carefully.

Right. It doesn't matter what Jason learns about you now. He ended it, and the past is the past. It might take him a bit longer than usual, but he'll get over it. He hopes you do, too.

"Ahh!" You let out a shout, then go quiet. "I know. Thanks, Jess."

"You're welcome, sweetheart." The two of you stay quiet for several minutes. Jason wonders if he's going to have to endure hearing you cry over the phone.

"He doesn't seem like he was good for you," Jess offers.

"Fuck off." Beat. "I know. But why does everything have to be good for me? Why do I--ha." You let out an acidic laugh. "'You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting."

"'You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves,'" you and Jess recite together. "Point taken," Jess adds. Jason knows Mary Oliver's Wild Geese. He just didn't know you knew it, too.

A beat. "I don't think you get to make fun of him liking Shakespeare after that," Jess observes.

You laugh humorlessly. "I know. I know. I'm acting like I'm not a fucking dork over here, too." Dick is looking at Jason very cautiously. So is Bruce.

"What are you going to do?" Jess asks after several beats of silence.

"I'm going to pick up a drug habit, that's what I'm going to do. Now seems like a great time to become an alcoholic."

"Don't," Jess says fiercely. "Don't even joke about that. You can't go back there."

"I know," you say softly. "I know."

Jesus. Jason didn't even know you'd had issues with addiction in the past. If he did, maybe he would have...done things a little differently. He can't even look at his family, can't meet their eyes. Not when he knows he may have inadvertently sent you over the edge. Holy shit. He feels sick with himself. How could he have missed that you were a little bit fucked up, just like he was?

Jason is suddenly grateful you didn't read his stupid text last night, when he had first sent it. Thank fuck you were with Jess right now.

As if to echo Jason's thoughts, Jess snarls "No. No way am I going to let this insensitive, fucking prick set you back. Not when you've come so far. You can't let him ruin you. He's not worth it."

Jason agrees.

"But what if..." you say quietly. "What if he could tell, and that's why he ended it. That there's something...awful inside of me."

"No!" Jess shouts. "No! How could you say that? There's nothing--"

You let out a choked sob, cutting Jess off. "Fuck, I'm sorry," you say desperately, voice cracking. "I just--" Shit. Shit. You sound so...broken, Jason wants to take you in his arms, tell you he didn't mean it, tell you he's got his own shit and then some, but you're perfect, and maybe you'd even understand some of it. Maybe you had more in common than he'd thought.

"It's okay, sweetheart." Jason hears footsteps, hopefully Jess was going to put you in his arms, like Jason wants to but can't.

"It just feels like...like I always have to try twice as hard. Like I have to keep myself under surveillance, like I have to be so careful. Because if I slip, it's...it's all over. And it makes me feel like I'm not good enough."

Jason knows what that one feels like.

"Listen to me. Listen," Jess implores you. "You don't have to be perfect. It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone slips. Recovery is not a straight line. It's okay."

"I know," you say, voice resigned. "I know."

"And you're doing so well. Two years without touching anything! Even when you lost your job, and your sister got sick. You're so strong, sweetheart."

"Thanks," you say quietly.

The two of you stay silent for several minutes. It gives Jason more than enough time to consider his next move. Should he text you an apology? Is it too late for that? Does he still want to be with you? Yeah, no shit. His hangover is proof enough that he won't be able to get you out of his mind. And it sounds like you're more alike than either of you realized.

Suddenly, Jess's computer dings with an alert, disrupting the silence. There's a shift as Jess walks over. "Oh, shit," he murmurs. "I got in."

The tension in the cave ticks up even higher. "Oracle," Bruce says evenly, "brace for an attack."

"What happened?" you ask, voice still raw.

"I got into the GCPD protected records." Jess breathes. "Fuck yes. I'm going to dox the shit out of those crooked cops and the politicians Black Mask has in his pocket."

"He's out for blood," you comment with a shaky laugh.

"That motherfucker has it coming, after what he did to my father. If I can't get at Sionis directly, I'll chip away at his stupid empire until he's left with nothing." The floorboards creak as Jess settles himself at the computer. "Are you okay?" he offers distractedly. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I need to tune out, I have to--" he trails off, as the clicks of a keyboard start coming through across the line.

"Don't worry about it," you say, but Jason thinks, worries, you might be putting on a brave face.

"Okay. Okay. I'm going to put in headphones. I'm sorry sweetheart," Jess says again, "but this is the chance I've been waiting for."

"Don't worry," you say. "I get it. Do your thing."

Jess must put in headphones with the music blasting, because they can hear it faintly through the call line. The cave is alive as Bruce barks orders at Oracle while Tim all but shoves him out of the way, flinging himself down at the keyboard and getting to work blocking Jess out.

Whatever. Jason doesn't care, if anything, he cares less than he did before. He's all for getting rid of crooked cops, any hit to Black Mask is a win in his book. He's only still here because you're still on the line.

The call is silent, save for Jess clacking away. Finally, Jess' phone picks up your voice again.

"Fuck. Fuck. I can't fucking do this. I need a drink. I need a fucking drink," you mutter.

Jason rises to his feet, just as Dick says "I think you gotta go, Jaybird."

He knows that. His feet are already leading him towards his motorcycle. But where--?

"I've got a location," Tim whispers. Jason turns to him eagerly, but he's not even looking at him. He's looking at Bruce.

Jason's seething. If that asshole thinks he's going to beg and plead for this--

"Go ahead, Jay," Bruce says gently, seemingly without thinking twice. "We can handle him from here."

Gratitude flooding through him, Jason turns on his heel and moves. He's on his bike in what feels like seconds, speeding towards the location Tim had sent into the bike's GPS.

He just hopes he makes it to you before you're too far gone.

[marks-bby]

indulge with me in this . please .

(this has been an idea i’ve have from 7 years old)

your fist meets the skin of one of the thug you were apprehending. the beeping from your cowl’s intercom sounds. “batgirl, speak.”

“batgirl. i need you in Gotham.” bruce says. he sounds like hens desperately demanding for assistance. “kinda busy here, B.” you kick the hump of the thugs throat, giving you time to knock them out. “this is serious. scarecrow is threatening to cover all of gotham in fear toxin.”

all of gotham? what about your mom and dad? your friends. “has GCPD taken any action?” you call for your batmobile, quickly hopping in.

“the city has evacuated. it’s all scum on the streets.” you let out a relieved sigh. “good.” you rev the engine, driving to gotham.

the clock tower is silent. only whirs from the electric work around you. “Babs?” you call out. “here.” she rolls her wheelchair backwards, waving you over to where she is. standing beside her, you speak first. “so? what did i miss?”

she sighs, pulling up an interactive fear toxin image. “bruce took out a militiaman with a fear toxin injector. this formula is strong. imagine the fallout if he goes through with this.” her tone becomes paranoid, her mouth spewing worries. “don’t worry, babs.” you put your hand on her shoulder. “we got this.”

“batgirl. we have a lead to where Scarecrow is making the toxin. meet me at ACE Chemicals.” the hologram of Bruce disappears on your wrist. “great.” you huff. “you call me if you find anything.” you tell babs before leaving the clock tower, driving to ACE Chem.

your batmobile slides next to Batman’s as you eject out, landing next to the caped crusader himself. “Scarecrow’s in there.” he nods his head towards ACE Chemicals.

before you could respond, a helicopter rises from the broken bridge you stood on. a masked man was behind it. his attire was similar to the Batman’s. but more military styled and red.

“time to die, Batman.” then, the helicopter lets its mini gun spread bullets. both you and Batman jump behind the GCPD cop cars along with the other police officers, waiting for it to end.

“friend of yours?” Commissioner Gordon asks Batman. “stay here. i’ll find out.”

“any idea why he only wanted to kill you?” he doesn’t respond but grapples his way up to a ledge, you following after.

after locating the remaining hostages, you drive your way over to one before the dumb militia decide to have fun.

as you untie the poor hostage, a smoke bomb is thrown down in front the room in front of you. “formation!” the militia get into position, aiming their rifles at you, ready to shoot at you through the glass if needed.

suddenly, the Arkham Knight repels down a rope, chuckling as he walks up to the glass. “oh how i waited for this moment.” he takes a deep breath. “don’t shoot. she’s not a threat.”

“believe that if you want.” you spit.

he laughs, “still a firecracker, i see.” he puts his hand on the glass, waiting for you to meet his. “you’ll see reason, soon. you’re just blinded by that caped idiot.

ah? ah? any takers?!? i know it was ass but i was speeding through it.

request forum.

[rioagatha]

bleeding for the vampire

pairing: vampire!sofia falcone gigante x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smut (near middle to end), spoilers to episode 5, spoilers to episode 4 (backstory and how you first met Sofia), insecurity, mentions of misogyny & patriarchy, mentions of death, mentions of Arkham, slight homophobia, slight possessive themes, biting, blood drinking, fingering, clit rubbing, fluff w/ Sofia near the end (aftercare), use of pet names (bellissima and amore)

Summary: After the events of Johnny's death to Sofia's rise with her new empire, Sofia finally has her time with you.

Word count: 1.8k+

After a long day of Sofia's business, she finally has time to make up for you— her most precious love. Sofia had a new family, a new empire, she was no Falcone anymore, but a Gigante. Taking up her mother's maiden name, following her legacy that the Falcones never wanted to see.

You've met Sofia back when she and her father were still doing the Isabella Falcone Foundation, attending a few of the charity events. That was the sweet Sofia you knew, ten years before she lived in living hell due to her father. Sofia was the most beautiful woman you've seen. Her brown doe eyes were your favorite, maybe the second most favorite after she showed her fangs that she was insecure about. Sofia trusts you so much to the point she felt obsessed about you.

"I inherited this trait from my mother, I hate it how I look with them, but Alberto says it's what makes me unique." Sofia opened her mouth to point to her fangs. “Perhaps I even inherited all the vampire bullshit the movies show, the healing saliva and turning people into vampires.”

"It's not a bad trait in my opinion, it just— It makes me like you more. I agree with what Alberto said, it makes you look unique, and that's not a bad thing at all." You spoke in slight astonishment as you moved in closer to admire her canines. Sofia then closed her mouth after giving you a few seconds to see them. “Who knows? One day maybe you’ll find out if they’re true.”

Fortunately, Carmine liked you enough to the point he welcomed you to the rest of the Falcones. Although, the first time when Sofia introduced you to him, he was skeptical, like any other parent. Not because if you were going to treat her right, it’s because you were a woman. Carmine did try to talk sense to Sofia about it, but Sofia still loved you no matter what. Women should be able to love other women without being judged. That was something she told her father, but of course Carmine eventually did give the go for you to continue loving his daughter. The one other person you really talked to in the family was Alberto, Sofia’s brother. Overall, you did notice how the family treats its women within the family. Say for example, it's obvious that there's misogyny and it's shown by action— yet nobody dared to speak up about that.

During that time, you saw on the news about some victims who allegedly were hanged, it was a pretty popular topic around Gotham. Nobody knew who the killer was, until that one night in the Falcone mansion, that was the location that ticked the bomb off. That night was when Carmine was celebrating his birthday with a ton of guests in the building, including you. At thay time, you were talking with Sofia and her cousin, Carla, spilling the tea about how Lucas has a new wife.

Then a few minutes later, you overheard Oz talking to Sofia about how her father wanted to talk. Sofia excused herself from you and Carla as she made her way to Carmine's office, that was probably one of the last times you would see Sofia. Because after that talk, Sofia dragged you out of the place to take you and herself to Oz so he could drive you two home. Why did she do that? You weren't sure at the time, but there were pieces of the puzzle missing to form the bigger image.

The one moment you remembered the most was when Oz had to pull over due to the GCPD. The officers forced Sofia out and arrested her for the 7 murders of the hanged victims. Your heart stopped. Sofia wouldn’t do anything like that, never. Everything happened so quick, you tried to rush to Sofia, but the officers pulled you back. All the screams, all the horror, the night you don’t wish for again.

Learning the fact that she had to go to Arkham was the most horrifying part. That place was a hell hole, that place can make you go insane and make you be something you never wanted.

Back to the present, you stood at the window in the war room of the mansion, staring out the beautiful night sky. Without any notice of Sofia, you just began to zone out until you felt a pair of arms wrapping around your waist. The familiar scent of Sofia— smoke and the perfume she usually wore wafts your nostrils. Her nose pressed against your neck as she took in the smell of you.

"I'm so tired of men trying to take control, especially in the family. Having this new empire, a new mantle, is something that I would have done sooner rather than later." Sofia cuts the silence with her smooth and precise voice.

When she said that, you thought of the moment when Johnny got shot by her. He may have been "useful," but he contributed to the shit Carmine did. Johnny wasn't worth it. The men that sat around the table hogged all the cash Sofia offered, even with Johnny's blood in the way. Sofia needed a new family, and she got it.

Sofia nibbles the skin on your neck to stop you from daydreaming. As you bring yourself back to reality, Sofia begins to pepper you with her desperate kisses. Her fangs scratched the surface of your skin, creating soft red streaks— that's when you know Sofia is hungry.

Her left hand grips the side of your neck as she forces you to tilt your head, giving her access to your most vulnerable part of the body.

"Need you so bad, can't a girl get a reward for becoming the new boss of the family?" Sofia whispered down your neck as she stared at your flesh.

"Sof, you know you'll always get a reward, no?" You spoke to hopefully encourage Sofia to bite your neck. After all, you want her to be satisfied after a long day. When she found sense of your words, she nuzzled into your neck once again— right before she went straight to biting your neck. Sinking her sharp canines deep, making sure you bleed for her. Your blood flows into her mouth as she saviors the metallic taste. Pressing harder, your heart rate hikes up slightly when Sofia wanted to draw more blood.

“Relax, bellissima, I always make sure I don’t go to the point where I could kill you.” Sofia withdraws from your neck as she lets a small amount of your blood gush out. "Besides, even if you do die, at least I would have you all to myself."

She dived back down to lap up the liquid, moaning at the fact that she was the only person who was aloud to drink your blood. In the midst of thinking, Sofia slurps up the remaining pools of blood before sinking her fangs back into the wound she made.

You let out a small groan when you felt the same sting from the first bite. Sofia was absolutely mesmerized with drinking your blood, trying to quench her empty stomach. To make you feel better, Sofia hikes up your skirt and slides her cold right hand up your inner thigh. The coldness makes you shiver, but it makes you anticipate for her. While her hand found your panties, she could care less and ripped the pair off— tossing them to the ground. You could feel Sofia’s fingers tease your pussy as she toys with.

“What a pretty pussy, I’m glad that it’s mine. Already so wet, all because of me.” Sofia murmured as she took her time with you. She inserts two fingers into your tight cunt, thrusting with a fast pace. Knowing her, Sofia loved fucking you senseless. Sofia removed her left hand from the side of your neck, which she helped support when she drank your blood.

She slid her left hand down to rub your clit, to add extra pleasure, and to make you cum faster for her. You let out moans and whines as she continued her assault on you. Sofia pressed herself to your back more, continuing to work her magic by fucking your needy cunt and rubbing your overstimulated bud with her other hand.

As you felt the increasing need to cum, Sofia added an extra finger in your pussy, but she never stopped her pace. Therefore, you dug your nails into her hand that rubbed your clit. Creating small but beautiful crescent moon dents as a mark. This spurred on Sofia as she sucked on your wound, and to hear your heart race when you're just this close.

"Come on, amore, I know that you would be willing to cum for me. Not like you can't resist anyways." Sofia kept egging you on until you eventually give in and give what you both want.

Then, you did give in. Your walls clenched around her fingers as Sofia continued to slowly pump her fingers to help you through your orgasm. Now you were a panting mess, but at least you both were satisfied. Sofia moved her head back as her fangs were no longer in your neck. The puncture wound lightly bled still, but she kept licking and kissing it until it stopped the bleeding for the moment. Following after that action, Sofia removed her fingers from your cunt to bring them to her lips. Giving them a good clean and most importantly— to relish the taste of you. It was quite a meal for her, your cum and your blood mixed together was surely a good combo.

"You did so good for me. Let me carry you to my room so you can rest." Sofia spoke softly as she spun you around so you can meet her gaze. She lowered down to grab your legs and used her other arm to support your back. Lifting you up into her arms and then carrying you in a bridal style. Sofia loves to spoil you after sex whenever she's in a good mood.

Sofia walked into her room as she dropped you onto the bed and then removed her mother's fur coat to place it on you. The coat was a symbol of power to Sofia, since it once belonged to her mother. She then sat on the bed next to you, bringing her lips to your temple to kiss it.

"I'll be back, I just have to find Sal and then end this family war for our sake. When I return, I'll treat you with a warm bath." Sofia nuzzled against your temple before pulling away from you to eye at your healing wound on your neck. Turning away from you to change her outfit and walking away to do her business. You know that both Sofia and Sal want to kill Oz, after everything he did to Sal's family and betraying Sofia repeatedly.

[misspantymime]

Bat x Family ("A Family Meeting...Sort Of")

a/n: Once again, I forgot to update within the week. I'm ready for any punishment you have for me! Also, did the Batfam seem awkward? I usually don't right all of them together. (///￣ ￣///)

TW: Slight mention of starvation of children (no deaths though!)

Taglist: @c4xcocoa, @shinning-stars, @whognuthis, @dkddkdkdkdkdkdk, @nisarelle, @tree-ag, @welpthisisboringing, @sugary-strawberry-shortcake, @thatoneraeder, @celesteelysia, @scentedwombatarcade, @nxdxsworld, @lonely-entity, @jsprien213, @cocobally229, @kokazuu, @alishii, @misdollface, @charlenexoxo1, @wendee-go, @lunoorbonoor, @rainschnael, @punkandnerdy9, @mintynilla, @nervousalpacalady, @mallowryblog, @sirenetheblogger, @cupid73

Anya Forger! Child! Reader x Yandere! Platonic! Batfam

When Bruce called for a “family meeting”, Dick only had half an idea of what it was about.

More than likely, it had something to do with the trafficking bust that happened less than a week ago. The one that Jason seemed to fumble, despite his protests that the place had been cleared out before he even reached the location. Supposedly, the “product” had been left without food or water for an undisclosed amount of time before the GCPD had gotten a lead, but there had miraculously been no deaths.

That being said, Red Hood wasn’t the only one to drop the ball.

The breakout from Arkham had involved more major threats and the consensus had been that resources would be better allocated to that issue, above everything else. Or, to put more bluntly, the trafficking business, while urgent, just wasn’t to be prioritized at the moment. Which would eventually bite them in the butts later.

Through police contacts, the grapevine, and the ravenous media, Dick had heard less than stellar remarks on the poor handling of it all. Many papers and news outlets were questioning the lack of urgency from the GCPD and the Bats, seeing as some of the most vulnerable people of society’s lives had been put at stake yet appeared to not be on they’re radar. Not to mention the main perpetrators had slinked away unscathed.

So, if Bruce was going to ream them over the poor handling of the case, Dick was more than ready to take it on the chin. Even if the others weren’t.

Which is why when he reached the parlor, Dick was met, not unsurprisingly, with chaotic arguing.

“-admit it, Todd, you failed.” Damian’s resolute assertion was the first thing Dick heard but it was soon followed by–

“Listen, you damn demon brat, I told you already–” Jason was cut off, by Duke trying to placate them all.

“Look, guys, no one expected this, alright? You can’t blame him for that.”

“Incompetence doesn’t justify failure. It was in his territory, so it was his responsibility.” Damian argued just as Tim added his two cents.

“Yeah, but why are we all here, anyway? If he has something to say, he can just say it to Jay, right?” He groaned, rubbing his temple while nursing a cup of coffee. No steam, so they must have been at it for a while.

“Maybe he needs all hands on deck for it or something?” Steph chimed in, lounging on one of many seats, back leaning on one armrest while her legs hung over the other.

Cass simply observed the carnage from the side.

“Hey, hey, look we all messed up, alright?” Dick chided gently, with his trademarked golden boy smile as he stepped fully into the parlor, ”Let’s just see what Bruce wants, okay?”

Someone had to play peacemaker, since it looked like Duke was fighting for his life and Alfred was nowhere to be seen. 

“I hardly see where I–” Daminan started.

“Listen, we all could’ve done better,” Dick reiterated, “We’ll just hear him out and see how we can make this better.”

“I kind of doubt that’s possible” Barbara spoke up, on her laptop and scanning the various pages scrolling across the screen. “This is a bit of a–”

“Shitshow?” Jason prompted.

“Yes,” She sighed, before adding on, “No perps, and the place was, apparently, cleaned out before they got there. The GCPD is still scanning for anything, to be honest, but it’s not looking good.”

Barabara’s olive green eyes soon grew darker as she continued,

“Some of the kids were in critical condition.”

A hush fell over the room, smothering any irritation under a somber atmosphere. 

Just then, the door opened once again and Alfred, proper as ever, strolled in amidst the cold tension, seemingly none the wiser. If anything, the butler almost looked…amused?

“Master Wayne would like to apologize, but it seems he is…preoccupied at the moment.”

“The hell? He’s the one who called us” Jason grouched, flopping down on an armchair. 

 “Yes, but something of utmost importance has come to his attention.”

A sort of sharpness tinged the atmosphere, as they all tensed in anticipation. 

‘What could be so important?’, They all thought.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Bruce was not prepared for this.

He was not prepared for any of this.

 Bruce was ready to leave you to your show– a loud sort of spy cartoon? –but you had other plans, charging him as soon as the words “I have an errand to run” left his lips.

“An adventure!” You cried excitedly, latching onto his suit’s pant leg. “Lemme come!”

“Wha–? No, it’s an errand.” He repeated, trying to slip from your grasp. However, it proved to be far stronger than he expected, as you clung onto his leg even when he swung it to-and-fro rather inelegantly. 

‘I need to get to the cave with the others. Alfred can probably keep her away long enough for me to give them the rundown.’ Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I wanna go with Papa!” You cheered once again, your small hands leaving wrinkles in his pant leg.

“You’ll be bored” Bruce tried to reason with you, “Just stay and watch your show.”

‘She can’t get anywhere near the Batcave.’

And he failed. Spectacularly.

“No, no, no!” You exclaimed, climbing higher up his leg to cling off his waist, “I wanna be with Papa!”

‘This is illogical. Why is she so attached to me right when she got here?’  

You beamed up at him, shamelessly hanging off him like a juvenile monkey from a less than willing tree, “Please?”

“(Name)–” Bruce sighed again.

“Pretty please?” You emphasized in a drawn out whine.

While he was far from a master negotiator, Bruce fully believed he could hold his own in terms of brokering a deal. The social minefield of Gotham’s elite proved to be a formidable challenge time and time again, while the overt battleground of it’s underbelly remained default even for the most hardened of individuals. 

That being said, Bruce Wayne would not fold to a six year-old.

“Papa!”

He would not fold.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Dick stared at him.

Bruce stared past him, through the open doorway.

The parlor remained quiet, but the it’s inhabitants faces spoke volumes:

Alfred contained a chuckle behind a cough and his fist.

Tim raised an eyebrow over his cup of coffee, frozen just before taking a sip.

Jason, faced away from the door itself, did a double take upon shooting a glance over his shoulder. 

Duke’s face seemed to be caught between a gawking expression of shock and a nervous laugh.

Cass–stoic and steely eyed Cass– betrayed the slightest widening of her eyes.

Steph hid a bemused and bewildered sort of smirk behind her hand.

Damian looked aghast, bordering on disgusted.

And Barbara? She simply looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

All the while, you grinned quite triumphantly in his arms, balanced on his hip.

“Uh, B? You got a little–” Dick pointed and Bruce immediately cut him off.

“Yes, I know.” He asserted.

You grinned mischievously as a satisfied giggle escaped you.

“Everyone… this is (Name).”

a/n: Start of the Batfam shenanigans! Hope you stick around to see more! (´｡• ᵕ •｡) ♡

[selanaris]

Lurks in Shadows

DP x DC Fic : (Pt1) Part 2 (Pt3) (Pt4)

TW: blood, cult summonings, sacrifices, missing peoples cases, canon character deaths & undeaths

Thirty Minutes to Midnight - Bristol Gotham - Batcave

Tim Drake stared at his newest murder board… One case. A piece missing, but what was it? He needed to restate the facts. Two high-end business owners went missing last week; they were out on lunch and never returned. Male and female respectively, new fashion business, based in North Gotham. Their lunch was downtown after an interview with the Gotham Gazette for their newest line of summer clothes. No camera evidence, no witnesses, and no struggle. The last sighting was them making a right turn on a public street, then nothing. They checked the camera where they should have been seen, but there was nothing there either.

Red chewed on his pen before the subtle steps of a little bird approached him. “Drake. Are you done staring at the investigation boards? You have taken all five of them and are wasting our resources.” The youngest, Robin stated while moving in front of Tim to look at the facts. “Wait… are you stealing my case? I have already told father that I have it under control.”

Tim placed the pen down and looked at Damian. “Your case? This is my case. Two missing elites are a pretty big thing. I have all the facts and just need the final piece… Hey!” Tim stood up to yell as Damian started to pin up his files on the board.

“Silence, Drake. If you noticed, I have the rest of the clues.” Robin spat while pinning up ten more missing persons. All done in the last month. The connection was there. Mostly middle to upper class, but at least one deviation with a missing teacher. Nothing connects the victims on gender, jobs, ideals, or class. But there was one fact. Everyone was going missing in North Gotham.

Tim stared at the board before Damian interrupted his thoughts to point at a picture. “Who is this?” Damian asked, with his thumb jammed to an image of a GCPD officer.

“Officer Thomas Kirk. He is the newest addition to the police force, the one specifically tasked with this case. I am supposed to be meeting him tonight for information he may have… Although I doubt it.” Tim paused to end it there, but Damian rolled his hand to urge Tim to continue. “Kirk went to investigate the next day, but his partner bailed on him last second so he went alone. He went MIA for 22 hours before calling into work in the middle of his shift the next day and said that he was sick. He returned to work two days later, demanding to talk to the commissioner, but that request did not go through. Of course, our Oracle found the request and arranged a meet-up for us…”

Damian nodded while looking, “This may be bigger than we think if we account for the number of homeless that go missing… how many of them end up on this web…” Damian stared at the board and then at the patrol map behind the case. This was an old map that held all the general districts they patrolled. Damian's eyes started to widen. “Here.”

“What? The Village?”

“Why do we not patrol this area? We patrol around, but no one ever enters it.”

“Well… There hasn’t been a crime there in almost 30 years… Lucky them, I guess?”

“No, I will patrol this area tonight while you have your rendezvous.”

Tim rolled his eyes and grabbed his mask on his way out. “Don’t get sacrificed,” he told his brother while he started up his cycle and left the cave.

Tim made his way to a chosen location in downtown Gotham at midnight. Somewhere, no one will check. Batburger. Honestly, Kirk chose the location for the meetup. This cop was strange, new to the force, from a rich family, and transferred to the only neighborhood with zero crime. For someone with a cushioned lifestyle, why bother putting himself in danger? It made no sense to the robin that forced his way into Batman’s life.

Robin parked his cycle in the alley behind Batburger at 11:40 PM. Batburger was always a good place for their colony. They never asked questions about vigilantes getting a burger, and they were open until two in the morning. It was a win-win business with how well they tipped the employees. Or in this case, an employee, singular.

The vigilante walked up to the register where a teen a little younger than himself stood. He wore a poorly fitted Batman costume that had the cowl leaning off the back of it. “Welcome to Batburger. How would you like your vengeance today?” The kid said in a sarcastic tone.

“I didn’t know they let teens work this late. Don’t you have school in the morning?” Red said with a smile to the kid’s obvious capitalistic suffering.

“I didn’t know they let teens fight crime. Don’t they have adults to do that?” The kid snapped back. Tim immediately decided he liked this kid. “So do you want food to not so I can go back to my phone.” He was very honest and made Tim chuckle.

“Ok, ok. Fair enough. I just need two Batburger meals, vengeance-sized. One with a fountain drink and another with a Daytime Lemonade. Make the Burgers Condiment King style.” He ordered the standard orders. The kid opened his mouth to ask a question, but Tim knew what it was and spoke before he could, “Don’t Jokerize the fries.”

The kid stared at him and sighed, “You know what, fair. That will be $26.56.”

“What?! It’s $19.48 at the Batburger in Crime Alley?” Red spoke up while pulling cash out of his bandolier.

“You’re not in Crime Alley, are you? This is Downtown, we need to keep up repair costs with every attack. I would take Crime Alley robberies over collateral damage any day.”

The vigilante chuckled and handed the kid $100. “Keep the change,” he said while grabbing his lemonade and empty cup. He turned around to pick a corner booth away from the counter. Then, he proceeded to wait.

Soon enough, the kid dropped off the two trays of food and mumbled, “Don’t destroy the store,” and he shuffled his feet to the counter.

Tim took his tray of food and looked up at the ringing of a bell. The target in question walks into the fast food joint. The man had buzzed blonde hair, a blue button-up, and a black jacket. A cop version of Constantine, if he was honest. Tom Kirk looked in all directions, briefly keeping a longer eye on the cashier before making his way to Tim. The entire time Tom was walking, the employee looked to be resisting the urge to vomit all over the counter. Tim was starting to second-guess eating the food if the employee was sick. Kirk sat down in the booth and pulled out his badge from his jacket, probably proof of ID. Tim grabbed the badge to pretend to confirm it, he already knew this was him. He looked back at the front to see Danny leaving through the back and a napkin note on the register that said, ‘ON BREAK! IF YOU NEED ME, DON’T!’

Red Robin smiled and looked back to Tom, who was already going through his tray of food. He looked at his empty cup and glanced at the fountain drinks on the other side of the lobby. He just set the cup down before grabbing a fry and smelling it. The cop finally placed it into his mouth when Tim decided to speak. “So, why meet here instead of the rooftops like every other police contact?”

The cop picks up a napkin to wipe nothing off of his mouth in a manner that Tim immediately identifies as him spitting out his food. He crumpled up the napkin and placed it to the side. “They are always watching the sky. They know about the bats and the birds, so they always watch up. But when they do, they never look down.”

“And who is this ‘they’ you speak of?” Tim asks while finishing off his meal, he did take note that the cop stopped eating and is only poking at his food.

Kirk hesitated and looked around again before sighing, “The kid’s gonna be mad, but he isn’t the adult here. The ‘they’ in this situation is the Geo Populus Cult. They function in North Gotham. Their purpose is to summon evil magic entities and destroy Gotham. My brother,” he said ‘brother’ with deep sarcasm, “doesn’t want you involved. I think you need to get involved soon. Or at least your little Justice Friends I know you have.” Kirk said and pulled out his phone to check it. He seemed dissatisfied with it and placed it face down. “The kid went investigating on his own, I told him not to this morning, but before I went to work, he was already gone. They switched bases after we discovered their previous base, and he wanted to find their new one by being bait.”

Tim’s eyes widened at the thought that not only was this cop and his alleged kid brother out there investigating a cult connected to missing people, but then his brother decided to be a vigilante and look for the new base himself as bait. “Why are you doing this? The moment you saw the magic, you should have passed it on to us, or at least the Commissioner.”

“I have to solve this. Simon won’t stop until he solves it, and… We have to… I have to lay this to rest. I… I have an obsession to clear the corruption in GCPD. Yeah, I know it’s dumb to try to change things from the inside, but I thought I could do what Commissioner Gorden does. And the kid is obsessed with clearing out this cult and any other dark magic from Gotham. I’m worried about him.” Tom sighed and pushed his tray away from him. His burger had holes all over the top from where he anxiously pulled at the bread. “He recently got this new book a week ago, and while looking into a case unrelated to the cult a few hours ago, they showed up and stole it from him. They will probably try another summoning tonight. So I want the bats and birds to help me out tonight. I find my brother, we clear another base, and you get to investigate the murdered victims.”

“Hold on, wait a minute. Murdered? There are two confirmed missing to this case, and ten possibly missing to the same group.” Tim interrupted while sitting up straight.

“Try 36 missing people in the last two years, all killed.” He said with a haunted look in his eyes.

“36! How do you know they were all killed?” He started to get more suspicious and moved his hands to his lap, closer to his utility belt.

“Because they captured me, my brother saved me, and we both escaped. That is how we know where their old base was.”

They took a moment of silence, staring at each other, waiting for the next move. The respite was broken when Tom’s phone rang with the default tone. He picked up the phone quickly, “Where are you?!... WHAT DO YOU MEAN, GHOST KING?!”

[a2remedy]

Rocking with the Joker

It was a dark day in Gotham. The dark clouds and heavy rain weren't a new sight for its residents. Some would say it's the city's natural state.

Heavy rain accompanied by thunder usually muffled the cries of people with knives or bullets in their abdomen from a deal gone wrong. At the same time, it was a comfort to Gothamites.

Rain showed the best and worst of the world's crime center. The muffled sounds made finding sleep in the city easier. It made its people more receptive to helping one another. Rain, Darkness, Shadows.

Those were the playgrounds for the very protectors of this city.

It was the very thing that frustrated Oracle at the moment. Looking through wet lens into the alleys and abandoned sites like her life depended on it.

Maybe it did. Switching to being the lady in the chair surely wasn't a seamless but she did a damn good job, if the numerous voices in her ear didn't remind her enough. But she couldn't help her frustration. Even if they didn't speak often, they shared a look. A silent promise to get back at their assailant for what he's done.

A week ago, rogues used the same playground to break out of Arkham. The Joker was out there. Somewhere.

And Jason was silent. It's been slowly eating at her as they caught more rogues. Tim and Dick reported back that they've 'contact'. Whatever they wanted to call it. She hated the 10-foot pole between him and the other bats. She knew he hated it too.

A week since the Joker escape, and his pit rage hasn't died down since.

Her mind stopped wandering as she heard the GCPD. Reported sightings of the pale green gas inside an indoor concert hall, the feint laughter in the background growing louder by the second. With a practiced deftness, she located where the officer's coordinates were and reported to the bats... Right near Crime Alley. "Does anybody have eyes on Red Hood?" Nobody responded for 1...3...5 seconds. She knew well enough that one of the first casualties when Hood was like this was his helmet , and she assumed right when she got in to see the blurry camera that glitched with static occasionally. Right at the doors of the venue. She could make out people crumbling to their knees, desperately making their way for exits before succumbing to the drug. The haunting laughter ringing out from crying faces with grins too large. "I NEED ETAS! STAT!" "I'm 5 minutes away!" Tim responded as he grappled from rooftops. "I'm there in 3!" Dick was hoofing it as she focused on Red Hood. She opened her mouth, and her stomach dropped. Static graced her ears as it came in, but she was sure she heard correctly. "I'm going in." "Hood, just hold on." She knew better than hoping he'd listen. She checked the clear camera. At least, he had his rebreather on. "Hood is making contact. Hurry!"

"On it!" The chorus of voices and affirmative "Hm!" brought the comfort of the rain back to her. He's not alone in this, and neither is she. ---- The corners of his eyes tinged with green as he felt the pits simmer to life. He had to act fast. He had the officers on-site help him and his boys move the people nearest to the exits away before he turned back to the venue and collapsed forms inside. He could barely make out what the others were saying, but he knew well enough that the venue could comfortably fit 1,000 people. Far too many for him and 20 odd cops to handle.

He could still remember Bella, the rock star in the making, nerded out when a meta from the out of the city announced a surprise performance for the end of her tour. What was her name again? He followed the sounds of gunfire the further he got in until he made it to the open double doors. There weren't any bullet holes through the wall and door frame, so he made his way in. His heart was in his chest as he laid his eyes on the room surrounded in green. Lazarus green.

Jason had to keep reminding himself, freak out later, there's a job to do. Freak out later; there's a job to do. FREAK OUT LATE-! Green paved its way through his sight.

But the pits we're of afraid of it. Should he be? He needed something, anything to ground himself. So he touched the freaky thing. The green at the encompassing his vision vanished. Like oil to water, whatever he felt now wasn't the pits. It was like taking a dip into a pool. Cold enough to make you flinch, but it warms to his touch. He didn't notice he was dragging his hand along it until a guy's voice rang out over the mental and physical gunfire. "EMBER!" He took off a purple guitar with teal flame details and tossed it over.

The guitar straps fitted on her like a glove. "I GOT IT, B! LET'S KNOCK THEIR SOCKS OFF!" Jason didn't realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled in relief. Not noticing the band members' attention snapping to him as he finally caught sight of the joker. He gave the room a once over. The room with cheering fans as the band members were still being fired on. "THIS IS EMBER AND THE BUSTAS-" The three other members responded,"-AND WE'RE HERE TO BUST YA BALLS!" What. The. Fuck.

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Fourteen -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer @sadslasher13

“Master Bruce, Mr. Oliver Queen, and Ms. Dinah Lance are here to see you.” The voice of Alfred spoke out to your father who was sitting in his office, staring at the photographs you left behind that started this whole spiral he was in that your disappearance only added to. “Your wife is currently in the lounge with them, but I believe they would like to speak to you about your daughter.”

“Right… I will be there in a second.” Your father stood up from his leather desk chair, pushing it back into the desk before he grabbed the photos from the desk and shoved them into his suit jacket as he walked out of his office, following after his butler. It has been a day and a half since your disappearance and there was still nothing, well barely nothing besides the signs of struggle that was left on the rooftop you were last seen on. Most of everyone else was at the clocktower with Barbara, looking over any footage they could find that could potentially follow the path of where you might have been taken, Duke was at the GCPD headquarters talking to Commissioner Gordon and Detective Montoya if they knew anything about where you may be, then Tim and a few of your friends, Nettle and Foxglove to be specific, were going to meet with Mark Austen, your benefactor, to see if he could place any exact location of where you may be, then Dick and Damian as Nightwing and Robin were going to investigate Arkham Asslyum per Bruce’s request after he saw that letter his wife received from a certain former District Attorney, Bruce would have gone himself but Alfred pushed him to rest since he had been up for almost two days straight after seeing those photographs and seeing you come home stonefaced.

Alfred held the door open for Bruce as he stepped into the lounge and there he saw the two other members of the Justice League sitting across from his wife. Dinah looked up at Bruce with a smile, a polite gesture, but a silent sign of a conversation that would not exactly be pleasant. Then Bruce took a seat down by his wife and when he glanced to see her expression he clearly knew something was wrong, her mascara beginning to run down her cheeks and her lipstick slightly smugged probably from her trying to wipe away her tears, especially when she opened her lips to speak. “My daughter was engaged to a psychopathic maniac and you knew and didn’t tell me?”

“Our daughter-”

“That doesn’t change anything… this is exactly why I didn’t want to raise her with you, because of all the secrets and hiding and the danger… god…” Your mother sniffled but slapped away Bruce’s hand when he reached to comfort her. She glanced at Dinah and Oliver and forced a smile as she stood up from the couch. “Thank you for telling me… I have a few things to think about right now.”

Bruce watched as your mother stood up from the couch and walked out of the lounge, walking past Alfred as he held the door open for her and closing it behind her, and left the room himself. Bruce shot Oliver a glare as he began to question the archer. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her about the photographs and about your daughter being kidnapped.” The fellow vigilante responded to Bruce and before your father could open his mouth as to question how he knew and even found out about that, Oliver spoke up again. “Dinah was looking for your daughter last night to talk and then found Stephanie and she told her everything, including the fact that your wife didn’t know, but that’s not the main reason why we wanted to talk to you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I think you know, Bruce.” Dinah answered, and the two men watched as she pulled up her phone and opened it to show other photographs, photos of you as Songbird. She scrolled through them, showing them to your father. “Notice any similarities?”

“I do…” Your father could not deny how it was clear you based your persona off of the Justice League member sitting across from him in this very moment. “She was a fan of yours a long time before she ran away-”

“She didn’t run away, she was eighteen when she left this house, she went off to figure out who she is and she is still trying to figure that out because you never let her grow up or you didn’t want her to at least.” Dinah cut Bruce off, pulling her phone back and setting it on the coffee table between them. “Look growing up by yourself is scary, you should understand that, you all should all understand that… look Oliver and I have been talking and a few nights back Oli offered for her to come to stay in Star City, we think it would be best for her come stay with us and train because as much as you may not like it and if she may deny it, she was made for this life and she shouldn’t be doing it out of spite like she is now and that is all she will be in Gotham-”

“Neither of you raised her, you have no idea-”

“From what I heard your wife said she didn’t want you raising her either.” Dinah stood up from the couch, Oliver following suit behind his own wife. “Look Bruce, I understand wanting to protect her, but maybe she doesn’t need your protection anymore, or maybe she never needed it at all… look this was just to tell you in advance, but if it helps Oli and I will be helping look for her, so we’ll see you out there tonight.”

There was silence in the room as the two guests left the room, their footsteps echoing softly through the house as they began to fade away as they made their way out. Your father sat there for a moment, his eyes drifting around the roof in deep thought, his eyes finally coming to land on a photograph that sat on a side table of him and your mother a number of years ago, long before you were born and before she left him and when they were happy. A part of him wondered if he had chosen to leave this life when she asked if they would be happy…

Was it worth it?

______________________

You did not like the way the lace of your wedding dress felt around your collarbone, it felt too tight and the lace was too itchy, you did not notice it when your mother had brought it with her to that original visit to try on the wedding dresses but now everything felt suffocating, the fact that the room you were in had no windows did not help either.

You had been moved into another room after your conversation with Gabriel after you knocked out a member of the Court of Owls and tried to break out. The room you were in was some sort of dressing room, the sort for special occasions like weddings, the sort with a makeup vanity and an old changing screen. There were a few women in those owl masks helping you get dressed, but they did not seem to be full members of the Court of Owls, most likely some form of employee, servant, or devotee to their cause, for some reason they were more unsettling than seeing your old friend under the mask. These unknown women whispered among themselves but did not talk to you directly, which you found irritating.

You sat on a chaise lounge near the corners of the room as the women began packing up their makeup bags and still speaking in hushed tones. You laid back on the lounge, your head resting against the velvet surface as you thought back on this entire mess, you should have honestly just left the country when you had the chance when you first ran away, or at least you should not have stayed in Gotham of all places, this corner of hell.

You thought your wedding day was supposed to be happy, but here you are wanting to kill yourself.

You heard the door open, but you did not care enough to look at who it may be, especially when you already had a good enough of a guess. You felt the weight of the chaise lounge shift as someone else sat down next to you, and you finally looked to see that same girl who claimed to be your friend in school, she was wearing that white owl mask and her throat was still all red from when you knocked her out by choking her. “You should feel lucky.”

“Huh?” You finally spoke in a soft voice, confused by her sudden change in character, and you could only guess that behind that damned owl mask she was internally raging.

“I know why so many of the Court don’t like you because you are so ungrateful for everything you have been given. You are about to have everything you ever wanted, but you would rather run than have the most powerful man in Gotham at your disposal.”

“I loved Gabriel once… but how can I want this when it is being forced upon me?” Your question made her fists curl up, grabbing at the fabric of her dress in her rage. “If I was still in the dark then of course I would marry Gabriel in a heartbeat but I know he is a monster.”

You saw her raise her hand to slap you, and you knew it really would not hurt you, but the blow to your face never came, instead, you felt yourself being pulled back by one of the other masked ladies in the room while you watched a throwing knife break through your old friend’s owl mask and she was dead before her body even his the ground, the pool of red forming beneath her. You turned your head around in the direction of where the throwing knife came from and there you saw one of those assassins, a Talon, it must have followed her, you guessed it was probably commanded by Gabriel to kill anyone who dared to lay a finger on you, that was a terrifying thought. You glanced down at the body again, while she was once your friend she was also Gabriel’s old friend from school, and yet still he had her killed, just like how he killed his own mother in cold blood.

Then honestly you wished you did not look back up at the assassin again, because as if like instant karma, you watched as a blade made contact with its neck, slicing through it clean, beheading the creature. There was just you staring for a moment as everyone else in the room dropped dead, leaving you standing there alone and you knew this was not planned by the Court of Owls, especially as you saw an all too familiar woman step over the Talon’s corpse and severed head.

Seems like you were right about the League of Assassins targeting the Court of Owls, and Talia Al Ghul standing in front of you only proves your point.

“It seems that when children do not listen that discipline may be needed.”

______________________

“You played me!” You yelled at Talia as she dragged you out onto the rooftop of the building that the underground compound you were trapped in was connected to, you were sure that there were more entrances scattered throughout the city, but this was just one of many. You harshly pulled your arm out of her grip and you felt the fabric of the wedding dress sleeve rip, it was already ruined anyway because of Talia pulling you through the gore she created, the blood that was shed stained your white dress crimson at the edges where it met the ground, there is probably some fucked up metaphor you could use to describe it and compare it to your life but honestly could care less at this moment. “You only warned me to get me out of the way because you knew I would be a problem in your plan, you lied to me, you never actually cared about keeping me safe.”

“I care, but if you died then you would just be brought back, your safety and life are not a priority when you always have been keen on causing such trouble for everyone involved. A three-way war is more than enough for the League to deal with, we do not need a wild card involved.”

“So you would kill me and then throw me in a Lazurus Pit if you couldn’t pull me out or scare me off, huh?” You took a step back, your dress getting caught on a broken bit of metal that made up the rooftop you stood on, the fabric of the skirt of your dress ripping. “I think I’ll pass on both of those options, and you know that they won’t let your League mark Gotham as its next target in your father’s messed moral philosophy.”

“By them, you mean your family and your friends, correct? Because do you really think your little group of runaways stands a chance against me alone?” Her words made you fall silent, biting the inside of your cheek to keep a word of anger from spitting out. She was right, your friends would all be dead if they raised a hand against the League of Assassins. Talia smiled at your reaction, taking a step forward and reaching out a hand towards you. “It seems that you do not have as much faith in them as you say, do not worry, they will be spared when the time comes… but as for you my dear, I suggest you stop fighting and come quietly because as willing as I am to do so I would still hate to bring you back to my father as a corpse.”

“I…I…” What were you supposed to do? You had no weapons on you to fight and no suit to protect yourself from her blade, but you could not just let yourself be dragged along to Ra’s Al Ghul. You glanced around the rooftop, bare and on the outskirts of the city, you could jump off the edge and try to land on your feet on the next rooftop but without your suit, the threat of falling and breaking a bone was all too real. You glanced down at the part of your skirt that was ripped off by the metal, that broken shard of metal lying underneath the stained fabric. You sighed and kneeled down picking up the scraps of your skirt and the metal shard underneath it, hiding it underneath the ruined fabric.

“That’s a good girl…” Talia spoke, taking a step forward as you began to stand up, her hand reaching out to run her fingers through your hair. You took a deep breath in and out for courage as you looked up to meet Talia in the eye, still slightly crouched so it would be quite difficult to stab you without giving you reaction time. You took a sharp breath in before reaching up, stabbing the demon’s daughter with the broken piece of metal, jamming it into her gut before kicking in her legs to make her fall over. You could hear her scream in more rage than pain, as you made a dash for it, running toward the edge of the rooftop and taking a both literal and figurative leap of faith, jumping off the edge of the rooftop with a running start. You landed on the next rooftop over with a roll, but you did not have time to waste, you had to keep running.

You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you ran off this rooftop, jumping off the ledge, but this was a jump you would be able to make as Songbird, not just as yourself.

Your body hit the ledge of the building you attempting you make a jump to, not enough time to grab the ledge and pull yourself up and your body fell tumbling to the ground. Trash bags thrown into the alleyway broke your fall, and every limb of your body hurt but you had to keep moving. You forced yourself to stand up only for your body to fall to the ground again. your head hurt and you could process the sounds of voices, they sounded familiar, sounded safe, but you could not place them. You felt someone cradle your head and torso, telling you that it is going to be okay, that you are safe not. You could see the blurry outline of the two people, the one who was holding you was a man and there was a woman behind him who was talking to someone you think, everything felt so fuzzy…

“It’s okay, I’ve got you Songbird…”

______________________

You felt groggy when you woke up, there was a soft beeping of a heart monitor that you managed to recognize in your half-unconscious state. Your first instinct was to sit up but when you did you felt two sets of hands push you back down. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re safe now.”

You recognized that voice…

You stopped to let your vision focus, and you were indeed in a hospital room much to your relief. You turned your head to the source of the voice, the blond woman sitting next to your bedside, Dinah Lance, otherwise known as Black Canary, she had been your hero since you were a little girl, you remember meeting her for the first time when you were fourteen and you remember her being everything you wanted to be one day. You made the guess that the other person in the room on your other side was most likely Oliver Queen, and given that she was in civilian clothing then so was he, the two of them probably changed before bringing you here. She smiled at you, brushing the hair out of your face. “How are you feeling?”

“Rough… nothin’ feels broken though.”

“Ya… you made it out with just a few bruises, the nurse said you're okay to be discharged when you woke up, but let’s wait a few minutes.” You felt her reach down and give your hand a soft squeeze, a much-needed comfort after everything you have been through. “Do you want to talk about what happened? With Talia that is, Oli spotted you two on a rooftop, that’s how we got to you when we did, but we didn’t hear what was said.”

“...Not… not right now.”

“That’s okay, just rest right now, we’ll watch over you.”