âCass is the favorite.â
Bruce paused in the hallway, head tilted in the direction of the kitchen. He wasnât aware that anyone was still up.
âDefinitely.â
Bruce was aware that Tim had coordinated tonightâs patrol as Damian was sick with the flu and Bruce was laid up with a couple of injuriesâthey mustâve just gotten back.
âShe can read everything on his face and he never has to say a wordâthe old man mustâve been thrilled when he found her.â
Bruce frowned. His plan to return to his bedroom was put on hold as he lurked in the shadow of the den, listening carefully.
âAndâŚDick is the next favorite.â
âOf course, heâs the Golden Boy. Follows orders like the perfect soldier.â There was a dark twist of bitterness to the words.
âTimâs next.â
âNo, itâs definitely Babs. Sheâs actually good at her job.â
âNah, I have to go with Steph. Babs calls B out on his bullshit. You, baby bird, melt into the shadows and donât make a peep.â
âTim, then Babs.â When he heard the scratching of pencil on paper, Bruce realized they were actually writing this down.
âThen the demon brat.â
âDepending on what kind of scene heâs caused in the past week.â A laugh, low and not very amused.
âThen me and Jason. The outsiders. Last on the list.â
A scoff. âNo, Blondie, then you. Iâm not on this fucking list.â
âJasonââ
âWeâre ranking his kids remember? Not the vaguely estranged undead mob boss that comes to bail your asses out of trouble.â
âYouâre his son, Jason.â Bruce was gripping the door frame so hard his dislocated shoulder twinged.
âAll evidence says otherwise.â
âWell, Iâm not his kid either. So I guess both me and Jason are off this list.â
âYouâre his kid, Blondie. You have a room in this house.â
âI donât use it.â
âNeither does little Red, and heâs the one running the company.â
âYou have a room here too, Jason.â
âNo, I have a fucking shrine to the fifteen-year-old kid who was murdered in Ethiopia.â
It landed flat and whatever camaraderie had been underneath the bitterness and snark dissipated instantly. It left a heavy tension in the air.
âI donât want it anyway. Look what happens to the poor bastards at the top of the list.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âCassâdear, darling, favorite Cass. She disappears whenever anyone is talking to B. Probably too painful to watch.â
âI hadnât noticed that.â Quiet. Guilty.
âAnd the Golden Boy. Trying to hold the family together while everybody in it tears it apart. Timbo here, whoâs hoping that if he slinks further into the shadows everyone might actually forget he exists.â
âHey, I donâtââ
âBabs is stuck working for a boss who constantly undermines her, the demon brat doesnât know if he should be listening to Dick or Bruce, and you, Blondie, for the great honor of being last on the list, are the only one of us that actually managed to slap B.â
87 notes
¡
View notes
When Jason died, heâd still been a runt. A black dog that could barely reach Bruceâs knees, more fur than shadows, eyes that had not yet started turning red. He easily fit into the lap of whoever was holding him, wriggled into nooks in the Manor that Batman would never be able to follow, had an unerring ability to stumble upon dead bodies.
Jason had felt his own death before he ever laid eyes on the bomb. It was a horrible thing, knowing you were going to die but not knowing how or when. Knowing that Batman would be too late. Knowing that this was the end.
A Grimâs power was always stronger closer to death. To someone elseâs death. To their own.
The Joker left, not because he was done playing games, but because something in those blue eyes had begun turning red and there was a flicker of fear amidst that carefully calculated crazy. The Joker left before Jason Todd started leaking shadows.
The bomb went off. A baby Grim died.
But you couldnât kill something that belonged to Death.
Jason woke up. Jason came back. Jason opened eyes of liquid green fire, and fully transformed, he stood higher than most men, a terrifying amalgam of shadows and fear. A giant canine, solid black and reeking of Death.
Because that was the thing about Grims. Their full powers only kicked in after death.
~#~
Tim shuddered as he walked towards the control room, fighting the subconscious chill. The thermostats all registered the temperature as a balmy seventy-four degrees, but heâd been shivering for the last ten minutes and he was determined to find the source of the problem.
It was dark, the sky outside so cloudy it looked like night, and even the lights seemed dimmer than they usually were. Just perception, Tim tried to convince himself, darting glances over his shoulder at an empty hallway, but it didnât quite stick.
The darkness closed over him like molasses, sticky, slow and inextricable.
~#~
Tim woke in a rush, like someone had jolted him, and struggled blindly up in the instinctive reaction to an alarm, before his mind woke all the way up and helpfully pointed out that he was restrained.
Before Tim could register anything more than an increased heartbeat, the binds tightened, and a low voice said smoothly into his ear, âCalm down. Deep breaths.â
Calm down? Calm down? Tim felt like heâd gone five rounds with Crane, and he was being restrained, and the room was too dark to make out any significant details, andâ
Something slid through his hair, pressure on the right side of a massage. âShh,â the voice instructed. âYour heart rate is too high. Robin, slow down.â
Tim instantly untensed, the reaction ingrained after years of hearing the same words in Batmanâs growl. The voice was on the edge of familiar, and it was enough to bypass his climbing anxiety and drop him into a lull.
Had he been hit with fear toxin? He didnât rememberâand then Tim went very, very still when his mind pulled up what he did remember.
âRobin?â the low voice asked.
Tim started, voice scratchy, âThere was aââ A dog? A wolf? What could he even use to describe such a monster? âA creature.â Tim swallowed, and opened his mouth again, to try and detail specifics, but they were nowhere to be found.
Red eyes. Tall, taller than him, filling the entire corridor, black and shadowy and Tim had been unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to thinkâ
âRobin, calm down!â the voice cursed right into his ear and Tim felt himself being pulled up. The restraints across his chest was a pair of arms, one hand pressed flat above his heart, the other stroking through his hair. His legs were pinned by a boot-clad leg clamped around his knees, and Tim became aware that he was half-reclined in someoneâs lap.
âThe creatureâs gone,â the voice said. âHeâs gone and not coming back, stop panicking.â The voice sounded on the verge of panic itself. âJustâjust breathe, goddammit.â
Tim obediently breathed. In and out, slipping into the breathing pattern Bruce had taught himâa breathing pattern mirrored by the man holding him, and things gradually began to break through Timâs spiral.
Details. Facts. Conjecture.
Detailâthe voice sounded very, very familiar. Hoarser than he remembered, but familiar.
FactâTim was still in Titans Tower, still in one of the most fortified bases on the planet. There was no one else visible. They appeared to be alone.
ConjectureâTim let out a slow breath and kept his limbs relaxed, waiting for his captor to release his breath before Tim twisted as fast he could. He wasnât aiming to break their grip, just to seeâ
Green eyes in a surprised expression. A random white lock of hair. A familiar, set, stubborn jaw.
âJason?â Tim felt like he was drowning again.
102 notes
¡
View notes
@rainbow-flavoured-skittles found the link to the summary I was thinking of!
Have you ever come across a fic that has Dick as a fae creature summoned by Bruce to help him fight crime? And Dick slowly becomes more and more human until he agrees to stay with Bruce as his son? I think I read it on Ao3 but I canât find it there now for the life of me and itâs genuinely one of the best-written fics Iâve read
I've read some similar stories, and I feel like I've happened upon this summary before somewhere, but I can't seem to find it.
23 notes
¡
View notes
you are actually cooking every time you write. I keep on stumbling onto your fics and bookmarking them every time. Keep up the amazing writing! :> (what are your pronouns btw? I don't want to misgender you when I talk about you to my friends)
I'm glad you're enjoying them! I use she/her.
12 notes
¡
View notes
Would it be possible to get an invite to the enemy to caretaker server if it's open rn? Recently became obsessed with this trope đ
Sure, here you go!
3 notes
¡
View notes
Wow! I found you on ao3 not long ago and love your stuff!! And now here!! Your stuff is always fun and solidly written! That one Damian cuddle pollen fic is a good story to read before bed; most of the cuddle pollen antics are honestly. The batfam WILL be showered with love and AFFECTION dammit!!
Iâm currently down the rabbit hole with batfam fics and wondered if you have any recs? If you do that? Also any author recs in that boat too?
I'm glad you're enjoying it!
I don't really keep a track of stories I've read for recs. If something is really good, it'll usually go in my bookmarks, so check those out!
3 notes
¡
View notes
Have you ever come across a fic that has Dick as a fae creature summoned by Bruce to help him fight crime? And Dick slowly becomes more and more human until he agrees to stay with Bruce as his son? I think I read it on Ao3 but I canât find it there now for the life of me and itâs genuinely one of the best-written fics Iâve read
I've read some similar stories, and I feel like I've happened upon this summary before somewhere, but I can't seem to find it.
23 notes
¡
View notes
Ted grinned as Grayson walked away, his shoulders hunched and his hands balled into fists. He hadnât bothered laying out the evidence or the proofâboth were easy enough to find, connecting Graysonâs disappearances with Nightwingâs appearances was like playing a goddamn match-2 game.
And it was no wonder that Grayson had the highest close rate of the precinct when he could just go and get whatever evidence he wanted. But Ted didnât care about that. Not anymore.
No, he didnât care that Detective Richard Grayson was Nightwing. He cared that Richard Grayson-Wayne was Nightwing. Ted was about to become very richâif Grayson did as he was told.
Ten million. He would give Grayson two days to cough it up, or heâd go straight to Vicki Vale. Or perhaps Arkham, he knew a couple of guards there and surely someone in those cells would pay handsome money to know who Nightwing was under the mask.
Hell, he could even do all three. He held the cards here.
Ted smiled at Graysonâs pinched face.
Ted gave a parting smirk to Grayson as he left for his smoke break. The man had begun ignoring him, as if that would make the deadline go away. He had a little less than twenty hours.
Ted had gone ahead and got a visitorâs pass for Arkham for the day after tomorrow. Heâd worry about specifics after he knew whether or not Grayson would come through.
It was cold outside, late afternoon edging into evening. He passed by a couple of other officers as he headed deeper into the alley. He lit the cigarette and took the first puff dreaming about the island vacation heâd be taking.
First class. Gourmet food. Five star resort and margaritas on the beach. Life was about to become much better.
A flicker of movement caught his eye and he turned, unhurried, as the garbage bag ruffled in the shadows, straightening.
Up. And up. And up. Until it resolved itself into a slender figure dressed all in black and most definitely not a garbage bag.
Ted blinked. The Bats usually only came out at night. And that they rarely ever ventured into Bludhaven.
Oh, so Nightwing had decided to take a different option out of his little predicament. It really was a shameâTed mightâve even left him alone if heâd gotten the money. Now? Now it was fair game. And everyone knew the Bats didnât kill.
Ted turned away from the figure and back towards the front of the alleyâhe nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a figure dressed in black and purple, dangling their legs off the fire escape, grinning down at him.
He picked up his pace a little bitâheâd get back to the precinct and make it very clear to Grayson that his mind games werenât going to work. The money, or the Joker was going to know exactly where to strike.
Someone stepped in front of the alley, blocking the entrance and Ted slowed his steps before coming to a stop.
Red helmet. Red bat. They didnât know a whole lot about Gothamâs vigilantes, but the Red Hood was a sore topic for every gang in the city.
Ted slowly, quietly, moved his hand to his gun.
âI wouldnât do that if I were you,â a voice said behind him, almost breathing on his ear, and Ted shrieked, drawing the gun and twisting around.
He was disarmed before he even knew what was happening, the gun yanked out of his fingers as he was shoved back, hard, sent stumbling back into the dumpster. Above him, the girl in the black-and-purple suit giggled.
âHood gets a bit testy about guns.â A tall figure in black-and-red, removing the clip, the bullet and tossing each piece in a different direction.
âI donât get testy,â the Hood rasped, low and rough, âIf someone points a gun at me, itâs only fair that I get to point a gun right back.â
âWeâre trying to get him to stop using guns so much,â the girl said, sotto voce.
Ted turned back to the mouth of the alleyway. The Red Hood had a tire iron slung over one shoulder.
âWhatâwhat do you want? My wallet? My phone? IâI didnât do anything,â he raised his hands. He wouldâve backed away, but the figure in black was giving him the hives and he didnât want to get any closer to them than necessary.
âTt. We all know thatâs a lie.â
Ted literally did not see where Robin had come from. Heâd been staring as the Hood took slow steps forward, heâd blinked, and then suddenly there was a kid in green-and-yellow scowling in front of him.
A kid with a sword.
Ted immediately cast a glance skywards, because where Robin was Batman wasnât far behind, before the strangeness of the situation settled into him. He was being menaced by a bunch of idiots in masks, in an alley in broad daylight.
âLook, I donât know what you want but Iâm a cop, you canât justââ
âYou know exactly what we want,â the girl said, swinging her feet. The all-black one took a single, menacing step forward.
âYou messed with the wrong fucking Bat, asshole.â Hood tilted his helmet to one side.
âIf you even dare to touch himââ the katana flashed. âI will remove your hands.â
âLook, Officer Devins,â the one in black-and-red said, âWeâre willing to be reasonable. Leave Dick Grayson alone, and nobody has to get hurt.â
Ted was itching to shoot one of themânow he understood why his friends in Gotham were so fed up with their vigilante problem.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â he lied baldly, âI didnât do anything to Grayson. Can I go now?â
70 notes
¡
View notes
It was a Tuesday night, Tim was on patrol all alone because Bruce was benched with a sprained ankle, and he was hanging from the rafters of a warehouse by his wrists.
Typical.
Unfortunately, they had used actual rope, which meant that the lockpick Tim had so carefully pried free from the hidden pocket on his shoulder was useless, and he had a piece of metal trapped between his back molars as he tugged at the rope with his teeth.
It was frustratingly slow going. The warehouse was silentâTim was supposed to be bait for Batman, and the thugs had taken an extended smoke break after roughing Tim up a bitâand Tim was hanging upside-down like a monkey, legs twisted around the rope and gripping tightly to give Tim enough stability to bend up and worry at the knot with his teeth. He wasnât sure if he was loosening it or tightening it, and Bruceâs voice in his ear was not helping.
âIf you can get the birdarang from your belt pocket,â Bruce said, voice carefully level in the way that meant that he was definitely panicking, âAndââ
Tim abandoned the knot for a second, jaw sore and teeth aching. âIâm not Nightwing, I canât just remove my spine when I want to,â he snapped, sucking in breaths in the brief pause before he clenched his stomach and bent up again. âIâve almost got it.â
That was a lie, but Tim knew that Bruce was about five minutes from ignoring Alfredâs instructions and heading out, broken ankle be damned.
âIf you canât untie the knot, then cutting it would be easierââ Tim groaned, the sound muffled around the rope. âAnd you need to give yourself more slack, so the tension isnât at the knotââ Tim groaned louder.
He couldnât give himself more slack with the rope that was currently bearing his entire weight. Chewing through the rope was his best bet right now, no matter how sore his teeth got. The fibers had to break at some point. Right?
A throat cleared, loud and close, the sound cutting through both Bruceâs half-panicked babbling and Timâs mental self-recriminations. Tim dropped his head to see whoâd snuck up on himâ
And stared straight into a red helmet.
Tim did not squeak. He remained calm and level, holding his upside-down position even as his stomach dropped and his throat locked up.
âRobin?â Bruce asked warily through the comms. The red helmet was silent.
âHood,â Tim said, as both a greeting and an answer.
âDid you just say Hood?â Bruce asked, voice rising, as the mechanized tone responded, âReplacement.â
Tim took stock of his situationâhanging upside-down, wrists tied, Bruceâs increasingly frantic questions in his ear, and a lockpick still held between his teeth. The Red Hood, in contrast, was looking up at him, arms crossed and within easy reach of his guns.
âHi,â Tim tried, and hoped Hood didnât decide to shoot him. He was pretty much a sitting duck.
âThe Red Hood?â Bruceâs tone had definitely hit panic now. Tim ignored him.
âHowâs it hanging?â Tim gave his best Nightwing-bright smile. He wasnât even anywhere near Crime Alley. What the hell was Hood doing in Tricorner, anyway?
âCute,â the distorted voice growled, âBig brotherâs definitely rubbed off.â
118 notes
¡
View notes
hi! just wanted to say i love your fics so much. they're my fav 'bedtime stories' haha. thank you for writing!
đđđ
15 notes
¡
View notes
hi, same anon from before who recommended letter of complaint to a friend. she read the blackmail files and said it healed her soul from the emotional damage
đđđ
10 notes
¡
View notes
Jason could hear the echoing footsteps get further and further and further andâstop.
He couldnât help the chuckle that burst out of his throat. Rusty, bursts of pain as it jostled his ribs, but he couldnât stop, he kept laughing and laughing and laughing as the footsteps raced back towards him.
âWhat did you do?â The Joker looked angry. The Joker looked afraid. And Jason couldnât stop laughing because this was the punchline heâd been waiting for ever since he clawed out of his grave.
The crowbar struck him in the ribs, effectively cutting off his laughter as Jason choked. âIâm all outta patience, birdie!â
âYouâyou thought I was stalling for Batman?â Jason managed to get out. The Joker was hazy and out of focus, but he was there. He was there. It had worked.
âI mustâve not done my job well enough, if you wanted to get locked in with me,â he hissed, lunging forward to yank Jason up and let him go.
Jason strangled the scream as he landed on his hipâthat was definitely broken. But he rolled over to look the Joker in the eyes. âDo you want to know what it feels like to die in an explosion?â he asked.
The Joker stopped. Stared.
âIt feels like fire,â Jason seethed, âIt burns. It hurts so, so much. And it isnât over in an instant. It doesnât end that quickly. You feel every bone in your body snap under the pressure, you feel your lungs cook from the inside, you feel your skin flay off in pieces.â
âYou really hold a grudge there, dontcha Birdie.â
âTell me how to get out.â The Joker wasnât laughing anymore. He wasnât smiling. He was holding a gun to Jasonâs face, eyes cold.
âGo ahead,â Jason bared his bloody teeth in the approximation of a smile. âYouâll be doing me a favor.â
76 notes
¡
View notes
Alright, because I've run into a wall on a couple of the subscriber stories, here's a new poll:
17 notes
¡
View notes
Have you ever come across a fic that kind of uses the Batman Beyond Joker plot in current canon? Where the joker dies and then keeps dying because thereâs always another joker? I remember in the finale Bruce didnât believe that Red Hood was Jason because he (Jason) had the same brain implant so Bruce assumed it was just some random schmuck made to look like his son. I thought for sure I had it bookmarked but no dice :/
The universe works in mysterious ways.
18 notes
¡
View notes
ok so I was the one who asked if you and green were the same. my real question was how do you decide what goes on one account versus the other? I noticed green has more dick and slade content, but thereâs still some of that on envy. is there a specific thing you choose by?
There are people IRL that know me as envysparkler (as it's the name I give out if people ask for my fanfiction handle) so anything I don't particularly want to explain to people IRL (for example, the entire concept of omegaverse) goes into greenie. Other than that, vibes mostly: the more mature content tends to go up on greenie, though sometimes with prompt challenges it evens out.
16 notes
¡
View notes
early bird
Jason mightâve had a homefield advantage when it came to Crime Alley, but he was under no impression that the streets he remembered as a child were the same as they were today. Hell, even the streets heâd patrolled as Robin wouldnât be the same. If he wanted to take over, he needed to get the lay of the landâwhere the gangs were, who was calling the shots, who was unhappy about it.
And where the Bats were.
The Red Hood was going to make his big debut after he knew who all the players were. Right now, Jason was skulking around in all-black gear, armor on, armed with blades instead of guns. He didnât plan on killing anyone. Not yet.
But Jason felt uneasy almost instantly.
The whole city seemed to be holding its breath, the way it did after a major Rogue attack. Jason had kept up with news of Gothamâs freakshow gallery, and there had been nothing for months. Plenty of crime, but the big name players were lying low. There should be no reason for people to act like theyâd just gone through a fear toxin outbreak.
Jason was feeling very uneasy indeed.
The first inkling he had that something was off was the goons on the street. While the gangs in Crime Alley changed territory like a penny changed hands, Jason had gotten used to seeing a few familiar faces. Now, there were no familiar faces, only full-face masks and a lingering sense of malaise.
The second clue that something was wrong was the aftermath of destruction. Gotham was a shit place for infrastructure at the best of times, but usually there wasnât rubble lying on the streets, cordoned off by tattered tape, or gutted-out hollows of burnt buildings. It looked like a full-scale war had erupted on the island.
And the last thing Jason needed to finish the creeping sense of somethingâs not right was the glimpse heâd gotten of Batman on patrol. The Dark Knight swung through the air like a wraith and where Jason looked immediately for red-green-yellowâReplacement, target, how dare he take whatâs mineâhe found nothing.
No brightly colored shadow.
No joyful laugh.
Nothing but darkness.
Something was very, very wrong.
~#~
It took Jason a couple of days to figure out what had happened. No one wanted to talk to him, not the semi-stranger nor the cloaked figure all in black. Jason finally had to bare his face and find one of the working girls heâd known as a kid. Sheâd been happy to fill him in, though sheâd used a hushed voice the entire time.
A gang war in Gotham. Boundary lines drawn all over the place. Some loser calling himself the Black Mask and the False Face Society taking control in an awful five-day wave of violence and brutality. And thenâŚwell, then the story got a little confusing.
No one had seen Robin since the incident. Batman had apparently gone feral. Black Mask was in prison with several broken bones. Nightwing had showed up, permanently if the outrage from Bludhaven was anything to go by. Word on the street was that Robin was dead.
Jason didnât know whether to be pleased or notâthe pretender was gone, but Jason was supposed to be the one to do itâwhen his train of thought was abruptly derailed.
âItâs just like last time,â rasped a girl with a too-old-for-her-face stare. âRobin croaks it, Batman goes cuckoo.â
âWhat,â Jason said.
âThe Bat was scary last time,â another girl shivered, hands rubbing her arms. âYou know he put Johnny in the hospital for trying to take some bread?â
âHope he picks up another Robin soon,â muttered a girl with a resigned expression.
âNo, Stella, you know theyâre children, right? How could you even say thatââ
âLook, either we give the guy in a bat suit his emotional support child endangerment, or Batmanâs going to become just as bad as his villains. Whoâs going to watch this city if everyoneâs a freak?â
Jason slipped away from the group as the girls all began bickering, arguing over whether or not Batman needed a Robin, if Robin was even human in the first place, if they should just pack up and leave. He didnât want to listen to a fiercely indignant woman call Batman a child abuser while a darkly resigned one just shrugged her shoulders.
For some reason, when heâd made his own arguments, heâd feltâŚunique. Special. Like he was the only one who could see the truth. Nowânow he was remembering Gordonâs pinched face every time he saw Jason with an injury, all the news reporters that called Batman the worst thing that had happened to Gotham, the comments from Leaguers uncomfortable with child heroes.
Jason wasnât entirely sure when heâd switched sides in the debate.
~#~
It took another week before Jason spotted Batman again. His patrols were all over the place, no discernable pattern to them, but when he heard rumors of a planned bank robbery in the Diamond District, Jason knew where to go.
He arrived and found a nook on the rooftop across the street to watch the action. Sure enough, Batman and Nightwing showed up moments after the alarm was tripped, and Jason watched them take down the would-be robbers.
Batman didnât look crazy, his movements were as swift and economical as ever as he dismantled the operation, engaged the leader, and began punching him in the face again and again and again. Jason stared, frozen to the spot with more than shock as he watched Batman pulverize a group of robbers for the crime of breaking into an empty store.
Nightwing secured his opponents and moved to intercede, trying to get between Batman and his victim. Batman ignored him, and when Nightwing laid a hand on his arm to get him to stop, he flung the other vigilante back so hard Nightwing nearly stumbled into the street.
Nightwing didnât move to intercept again.
Batman stopped when the man was no longer twitching, and dropped the body where it was, turning on his heel sharply to exit the scene. Nightwing watched him go, and Jason could see the way the younger man crumpled in on himself as Batman walked away. Hand over his face, Nightwing slowly went after him, every line of his body screaming of exhaustion.
Robin croaks it.
Jasonâs breathing had gone tight and shallow.
Batman goes cuckoo.
In the back of his head, something was laughing. Isnât it a great joke, it said between giggles. Isnât it the greatest joke of all?
89 notes
¡
View notes
Hello!
I love your stories, they alway manage to make me feel happy and sad at the same time, and are great reading any time I'm too stuck in my head or life is super stessful.
If you're still finding fics, I was looking for a story in which Jason is back in the family, both as Jason and as Hood, but Dick somehow didn't know they are the same person, so he behaves super coldly to Good and ignores Jason thinking he's a Ln hallucination.
I though it might have been one of your stories, but I can't find it and it's driving me a bit crazy. Thank you so much in advance! And thanks for all the writing you publish, it's always a joy to see the notification đ
It's one step forward!
19 notes
¡
View notes