#Jason was the one who visited the cemetery

[nelkcats]

Death Loves No One

Cause if he did he'd want to keep them forever

After obtaining the title as Ghost King and losing all his family, Danny started to feel lonely. He had friends, ghosts that would stay for eternity by his side but it wasn't the same. Danny felt that his personal connections were what kept him sane, the evenings with Clockwork calmed him down, but it wasn't the same calm that Jazz used to provide.

So, when he was given the title of Equilibrium it wasn't really a big deal. It was just another title among a thousand others, Clockwork advised him to visit earth to discover his purpose but also warned him that he would not look human.

Danny accepted it but didn't take it seriously, he couldn't help but get scared when people started screaming around him. He wasn't doing anything weird, he was visiting the cemetery, his family's graves, but everyone was running away scared.

He realized that since he lost Jazz (the last one to leave) he no longer looked human. He wondered if it was possible that someone might be interested in talking to him but dismissed it. Some people began to nickname him "Death" because all he did was stay in the cemetery.

That's why it was extremely rare to find a boy calling him every day and making a small talk, he became attached to the boy. The boy would visit different graves but always stayed to talk to him, never yelled, or called him a bad name. Danny couldn't help but love him the same way he loved his family.

He wasn't surprised that the boy died soon after (knowing him brought misfortune didn't it?), but he never stopped visiting the cemetery. So, when the boy rose from his grave completely disoriented, Danny wondered if it was somehow his fault.

[phantom-dc]

A deal with the Ghost King

Part1 Part3 AO3

Bruce was concerned. Last night, the world had been on the brink of destruction. A flaming, Kryptonite meteorite had been on a collision course with Eart. No one was able to handle it, and the League had grown desperate. Many, Bruce included, had brought their friends and families in an attempt to save them. It was then they had agreed to let Constantine summon the mighty Ghost King.

But they had failed. The Ghost King had rejected their offer of souls, and demanded a better offering. The League had scrambled to come up with something valuable enough to please it. But before they could try again, the King had vanished, and the meteorite had been destroyed. After the initial shock and relief had worn off, Constantine had demanded awnsers. Someone had made a deal, but no one knew who. While Batman checked the camera's, Flash asked around if anyone had seen anything. No one had, and the Ghost King's presence interfered with the camera's. A deal had been made with the God of the dead, and no one knew what had been offered. Constantine made it clear that if anyone of the League noticed anything amiss to call him immediatly, and it was well known how much Constantine hates being on call. So Bruce decided to patrol a bit earlier then usual, right after dark. He had been on his balcony, as the sun had just set, casting the city in darkness.

Then the sky was filled with familiar green/blue lights.

----

Red Hood was following the Aurora Borealis on his bike. Jason had been worried when he realised he and Phantom had forgot to exchange phone numbers, but it seems he has no trouble making his presence known. Jason was sure the whole city could see it! Noticing the light rippled from Gotham cemetery outward (because of course a ghost-themed hero would pick that spot) Jason got there so fast he doubted the Flash couldve done better.

When he parked his bike, Phantom had noticed him and waved. When he floated closer however, he seemed confused. 'Wait, you're the Red Hood?' Jason realised he hadn't been wearing his iconic helmet in the Watchtower, and got a bit nervous. Had Phantom been unaware of the blood on his hands? Suprisingly, Phantom got excited: 'That's amazing! You're my favorite hero!' Jason was suprised: 'Really?' 'Yes! So many ghosts found peace because you avenged them. You're like a celebrity in the Realms!' Not used to the praise, Jason switched topics: 'So where do you wanna go? Honestly, it's kinda late and I don't think much is open now.' Phantom apologises. He wasn't certain his aura would have been visible in the sun. But he came prepared! Holding up a picnick basket, he suggest they visit the park chat so they can get to know eachother a bit better. Jason liked the plan. 'Let's go then, ghost boy.'

----

Looks like I'll have to split the date up in different parts! Enjoy the wild goose chase!

Edit: I am no longer tagging as I teached the limit and the story is on AO3, sorry.

@alice-hazelwood @spookytragedyshark @vythika96 @willak @sjrose1216 @shorterthanadverage @bruh-incoming @desertbogwitch @bun-fish @anon-ymous22 @overtherose @dracotheghostdragon @treepainting @the-church-grimm @emotional-otter @zelabee @smilingfox22-blog @vampiredp94 @leftmiraclechaos @impulsiveasshole @babbling-babull @wordsgohere95 @theamazingfox @regressor-marina @raspberry-muffin @scribbiesan-main @satanicrutialspecialist @meira-3919 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @terzatheunderscorerima @some-rotten-nest @wrenofthedumbasses @is-this-even-relatable @olivethetreebitch @my-mom-calls-me-rat @darlingatlas @blazeart @gunebugfic @chaos-n-kindness @elvesandlanterns @asphyxia778 @fantasticbluebirdfan @mj-arts-n-stuff @nappinginhell @slapphapp1 @undead-essence @seraphinedemort @enderglace @wildbacon-blog @mark-the-snark

[swe3tte4rs]

" An unexpected meeting of a mother and son " - Batmom!Oc and Jason Todd/Red Hood

Summary : Dahlia (Oc) tries to forget about her second little baby and his death after the arrival of her third sweet son. But she didn't know that she would have a very nostalgic visit.

Author note: Hello!! Before you read this and find any spelling mistakes, tell me in a comment 🙏, my main language is not English 😓. Also, this is my first "Oneshot" (I think it's a Oneshot, but I don't know), so I didn't know whether to put Batmom as Y/N or as some OC, so I decided on the OC 💪. (This Batfamily is a mix of comics, Webtoon, series, movies and headcanons… so… you know, not everything will follow the canon 😇)

TW: angst????

"Oh... God... my sweet boy... my little angel... Please don't him..." The woman murmured between sobs as she leaned against her husband's strong body.

"I'm sorry, Dahlia..." Bruce apologized in a murmur as he wrapped his arms around his wife. He felt the same as his wife, although much more frustration and disappointment in himself for not being able to arrive in time to save his son.

On the other hand, her eldest son, Dick, also had tears in his eyes and felt desperate because he couldn't do anything to make his mother stop crying. He approached her mother and hugged her. strongly.

Dahlia had just received the devastating news that her sweet second baby had been brutally murdered. She felt a void in her heart, one where she was filled with the love of Jason, her sweet angel. Dahlia couldn't even feel anger or the feeling of wanting to kill whoever was guilty of the murder, she was too busy drowning in her own misery and pain, deep ones that won't heal for a long time.

Some time has passed since the devastating death in the Wayne family. But, another little one had joined the family as the new and third Robin.

Tim was a child genius, with amazing detective skills. He was also a very loving and cute son to his new mother.

Dahlia with the new arrival of Tim Drake as her third child, she did what she could to forget about Jason and fill that void in her heart with Tim's love.

Dahlia loved Tim as she loved her two other children. She made sure Tim felt loved and protected by a mother, doing everything any mother would do with her little baby, like spending a whole day with him going shopping.

She was happy with the new member of the family, she loved him. But even with Tim by her side, Dahlia couldn't forget her sweet little angel, Jason.

The woman went to the cemetery every day to leave flowers and clean her son's grave. "I'm sorry my sweet angel…" Dahlia said softly as she placed the flowers on the dirt covering Jason's coffin.

Tears began to run down her cheeks as she remembered those beautiful moments she had with Jason. Remembering when Jason used to tell her every detail of the missions she had as Robin and fought crime. Although it hurt her more not to be able to hug him and remind him that she loved him with all her soul. "My baby… I'm sorry…"

Dahlia sighed and wiped away her tears, stood up and walked away from the grave, thinking that a rest would be good for her and that she shouldn't come to the cemetery every day…

Another short time passed, Dahlia was in the kitchen preparing something to eat for herself, since she had already made sure that her husband and children had something to eat before going out on patrol. She was calm in the kitchen, with nothing on her mind, just taking care of what she had in her hands.

Until she heard heavy and slow footsteps approaching the kitchen, where she was. Dahlia thought it was Bruce, maybe he had arrived earlier than normal. When the footsteps finally finished echoing and they were already in the kitchen, Dahlia turned to look with a smile thinking it was Bruce.

"You came back early hon-…" Dahlia spoke but she interrupted herself upon seeing a stranger with a red helmet.

She tightened her grip on the knife she was holding. "Who are you…?" Dahlia asked with a hint of fear and distrust. "If you come closer I swear that-" Dahlia was interrupted when she saw how the stranger took off his helmet and revealed his face.

Dahlia couldn't believe it…she was seeing her dead son in person. Her expression changed to one of surprise mixed with sadness. She began to feel that her eyes were going to start crying at any moment, but for some reason she couldn't let go of the tears, first she wanted to know if she really was her son or just a hallucination in her head. "Jason…?" Dahlia said quietly as she dropped the knife and covered her mouth with her hand.

Jason placed his helmet on the ground and clenched his fists in anger… or perhaps, frustration. He looked at Dahlia and stared at her. "I thought you loved me, like you loved Grayson. Like your son." He spoke, trying not to let his anger and desperation show. "But I only see that you got a replacement." Jason added as he clenched his fists tighter.

Dahlia opened her mouth but not a single word came out, she was shocked, was it really her son who was in front of her? Or was it just one of her other hallucinations? Dahlia didn't know whether to really believe what she was seeing, what if this was all a dream? Her Jason should be dead. However, she was seeing him in front of her, with some scars on his arms and face.

Regardless of whether it was a dream or not, she was going to hug her son.

Dahlia rushed towards Jason and quickly wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug with a tight grip as tears began to well up from her eyes and slide down her cheeks. "Oh Jason… Please forgive me my sweet angel… I'm sorry for not having been a good mother to you and not being able to go and protect you… I'm so sorry honey…" Dahlia said between tears and sobs, holding his son tightly with no intention of letting go.

Jason wanted to push her, but she just wouldn't let him; Dahlia was his mother, his support, and the most beloved woman in his life. He was just resentful, frustrated to see his mother with a new son. Frustrated to see how his mother was loving another child. Jason felt as if his mother had completely forgotten about him after his death.

But after hearing Dahlia call him by his old nickname, he saw those moments pass by when he was happy playing and talking with his mother. He couldn't deny it, he loved how her mother's laughter could be heard along with her smiles.

Jason pursed his lips and simply hugged his mother back, tighter. And his vision began to cloud with tears that he wanted to hide but he let them out, unburdening himself in Dahlia's arms. "Ma…"

[HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!!!]

[tourettesdog]

DPxDC Prompt where when Jason is resurrected, he does not become fully conscious. He lays in his coffin, at rest while his body slowly absorbs the ambient ectoplasm of Gotham and tries to fix the improper formation of his core.

The rest is not altogether peaceful. He often has nightmares, and has no way of escaping them. The ambient ectoplasm in Gotham is sustaining Jason, but what repairs the ectoplasm is managing are agonizingly slow.

-

Danny has been living in Gotham for awhile, having moved there with Jazz as soon as she turned 18. Gotham has its own host of ghosts, but Danny feels at ease without the constant strain of ghost fights.

That is, until he feels something amiss in the Gotham cemetery.

The cemetery feels wrong, in a way Danny can't place. It reminds him of Amity, how restless it is-- only different. Wrong. He keeps visiting the cemetery, trying to find the source of that feeling. The entire graveyard is saturated with it, and all Danny can do is sit in the graveyard and talk into the quiet. He lets emotions flood from his core, trying to exude an air of calm that might settle whatever restless spirit haunts the grounds.

It works, at least. The sense of restless agitation eases when Danny flares his core, settling into a quiet comfort.

It becomes stronger, too. Danny can feel it coming from a newer section of the graveyard, and he curiously wonders why he's drawn more and more to a single line of headstones.

Wonders why the one on the end seems to stand out, the name Jason Peter Todd burning itself into his dreams.

Wonders why he feels a kinship with this boy's grave, when he can't even see a ghost attached to it or feel any resonance of a core. Nothing stronger than the blob ghosts that haunt the grounds, at least.

Only ever those strange emotions and that restless energy that quiets with the sooth of his own core.

Yet one day when Danny visits the graveyard and flares his core, he's startled when another one answers his.

-

[I originally posted this prompt in the Batpham server and it ended here, but several of us expanded on it and what I’m posting after this are the additions I added in that discussion, some of it edited.] Jason never actually digs out of his grave. When he finally awakens and tries to dig at the coffin he actually slips through it into the soil above. A hand thrusts its way through the soil and pulls him the rest of the way up

Danny is the only one present when Jason comes out of his grave-- when he pulls him free, a ghostly inversion of Robin who he knows to be a halfa. In his confused state, however, Jason does not linger in the cemetery. He runs off, and even though Danny's half ghost and can get around fast, Jason is now too and knows the city well enough that he manages to slip away. He's terrified, confused beyond reason, and hiding.

Jason hangs about the city, and at times he goes up on his favorite gargoyle to think-- and that's the first time Babs sees him. She thinks it's just a mistake-- her own imagination-- because as soon as she looks again, he's gone.

But it keeps happening. Dick swears he sees Jason near the manor grounds when he goes to visit. Alfred swears he sees him in the rear view mirror of the car one day. Tim swears he sees him while heading home one night. Bruce sees him on patrol, long enough for the two to lock eyes, but before Bruce can even open his mouth he's gone. And Danny isn't helping, because he's Looking for Jason still, trying to help, and this suspicious kid keeps turning up in the weirdest places and at a glance he looks like Jason too.

And it fucks with Bruce's head so badly. He can't say anything about it for days, and when he shakily admits it to Alfred the butler tells him he saw the same thing-- and when the others also share this, all of it lining up too perfectly, that's when Bruce approaches the grave and finds it empty.

During this, Jason naturally grows more bold after his initial shock and confusion dies down. He's a bold and smart kid, even if he's confused and afraid. He's just trying to investigate and see how Gotham (and his family) are doing and figure out how he can approach Bruce. He sees Tim and can’t help but feel forgotten and replaced, but without the rage from the pit he's trying to be a bit more level-headed and think things through.

Jason is also learning more about his new physiology, which keeps him distracted and his mind busy. Trying to figure out himself as much as those around him. But some things still haunt him and cannot be so easily ignored.

An encounter with the Joker sets Jason off.

Jason sees the Joker and that rage and hurt builds inside of him and he manages something similar to a wail. It's the most broken sound Danny's ever heard. It's nothing like his wail, it's more like choking and static and more a feeling in the chest than a sound. Jason died from inhaling smoke and didn't have any dying screams. It’s a shattered, raw wall of reverberating emotion that has no justice.

And Danny goes to it-- stumbling, because it's raw enough to punch at his core-- and he just finds the kid he's been looking for knelt on the ground, keening and sobbing his heart out. Danny goes to comfort him, tentatively wrapping an arm around him while they're surrounded by Wreckage (and a clown-shaped dead body).

And when the bats get there they finally get a good look at the specter they've been seeing all around Gotham, and it's absolutely Jason-- with another boy beside him... And the Joker's body, twisted and bloody. But when Bruce gets close, Jason startles, visibly terrified and hurt, and Danny hides them both from view and whisks Jason away to hide him.

Bruce let the Joker live-- and now Jason has killed the man and that horrified expression he caught on Bruce's face won't leave his head. He feels like a monster, destroyed with grief and hurt, and doesn't know what to do.

Danny takes Jason home, and he’s just a fucking Mess. When they get to the apartment Jazz is just about to leave. She was sleeping but the reverberating “wail” woke her and she’s been in a mad dash to grab all of their weapons to storm out and see what the hell has happened.

But right before she can leave, Danny appears with Jason in tow and all of Jazz's questions die on her tongue when she catches sight of the kid. Danny's told her a lot about Jason since he first met him-- and about the cemetery even before then-- and she's been trying to give advice and help out in whatever was she can from a distance. And now, seeing this kid actually here and just the sheer wreck that he is, she can't help but feel fiercely protective of him. She doesn't even know what happened down in the streets, just that Jason's in distress and needs help.

No questions asked, she helps Danny sit him down on the couch, wrap a blanket around him, and make some hot chocolate to try and get him to relax. She certainly has plenty of questions she Wants to ask, but that's not what's important right now. Right now she just has two severely shaken boys that need a safe place and time to calm down.

And even once she knows what happened, Jazz is nothing but supportive. Hell, she's happy to see the Joker is gone, but she doesn't focus on that because it's also not what's important. Instead she just does what she can to make a comfortable space and lets Jason know she's there to listen if he needs to talk.

And at first Jason is hesitant around Jazz-- and alarmed at first that Danny brought him to someone he doesn't know-- but Jazz is so patient and understanding. Jason can't help but relax around her. In a way it hurts, because it reminds him of his own family, but he'd rather have this than nothing, not knowing what reception he'd get back at the manor.

Danny's terrified Batman will want to hunt them both down. He knows this kid used to be Robin, but Jason's own reactions to Batman aren't making Danny feel more secure. If anything, he has a bone to pick with Batman himself now.

And Bruce is just left to reflect on what's happened, knowing that something of his son is still lingering. And he can't stop thinking of that Feeling the wail Jason made left in his chest. He keeps going back to his empty grave, hoping he might find him there. Hoping he might get to apologize to more than just the flowers.

Danny finds Bruce at the grave-- as Bruce, not Batman-- and he puts it together. He thinks he already knew it too, since while he refused to look up Jason Todd's name, it's Too Familiar.

Danny confronting Bruce angrily, expecting the man to rise to his challenge, but all he's met with is just a grieving father who desperately wants to see his son again.

And Bruce recognizes this kid and knows Danny knows where Jason is, but instead of demanding to know where he is he just asks if his son is okay. Because after feeling that wail and seeing what he saw that day, Bruce knows Jason must resent him. He doesn't even know what Jason is anymore, but he knows he's still the kid he loved and he's hurt and Bruce doesn't think he can fix that. He just wants to know if he's okay, and for Danny to tell him that he's sorry. That if Jason ever want to come home, the door will always be open.

Jason is terrified too cause he truly wanted to kill the Joker, but he didn't expect to If he was going to kill him, it would be in a way he could feel with his hands. But the way he did it was in an uncontrollable show of power that he's not sure he could have stopped.

And Danny keeps trying to reassure him that he not only will get a better hold on his powers, but that he's not a monster. That what happened wouldn't repeat itself because the only reason it happened in the first place was because that was the man who Killed Jason and ghosts are emotional beings. It’s still a struggle.

Unfortunately, the Fentons make their way to Gotham. News of what is clearly a ghost killing a person-- villain or not-- is big enough to reach them in Amity. Jazz and Danny were only in Gotham because the parents couldn’t stomach their son being Phantom-- assumed Phantom was overshadowing Danny and turned a moment of trust into one of betrayal. The siblings were trying to lay low, but... well it was Phantom that was seen with the other ghost.

The Fenton parents come to the town with an entire Arsenal and approach the Batman, going on and on about ghosts, how dangerous they are, and in particular how dangerous These ghosts are. They lament about the Death of their own son, and the entire time Bruce is just-- shocked. He wasn't even sure what Jason was, and while the word ghost does seem to fit it still feels like his heart breaking all over again.

And he can't forget how broken Jason seemed, and how protective this Phantom was of his son. He doesn't believe the Fentons, but he does Fear them. He fears what they might do, and that's when he learns about the GIW and that these people are acting Lawfully in telling him, to his face, that they want to hunt down his son.

[ggomos-maribat]

5 | on the sixteenth of April

Part 5 of Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Dead | Masterlist

"Babsie."

No reply.

"Babs, did you look into it?"

Barbara's chin dropped to her fist as she scrolled through all the posts. She already had half the mind to mute out Tim but decided against it. Heaving out a big sigh, she replied, "No, I haven't. These posts were all made with fake accounts and I can't trace them. At all."

"All of the posts?"

"Well, no, just the ones that started out on the day the rumors blew up. The other accounts and stories are real—I double checked—but a handful were from glitchy accounts."

If she were to be honest, after hearing all about the case from Tim, Barbara expected them to solve it in a day or two. But this perspective of it was just as baffling, and she knew Tim himself couldn't find anything more than she could.

"It could be connected to her death . . . assuming those posts came from one person, then they must have something to do with Marinette's death, right?"

"Maybe," Barbara hummed absentmindedly. "Look, Tim, I've got loads of other work to do. I'll give it more time later; I'll tell you if I find something."

"Sure, thanks Babs. Jason says thanks too."

Barbara stared at her phone after the call, before it rang again.

***

Here lies Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a loving daughter, friend, our everyday Ladybug.

The headstone contained those simple words. Painted at the bottom was a branch of plum blossom, a symbol found in most of her creations. She was only one person among the many in the cemetery, but her death felt more real when it was marked on that rock. Tim bent down to place a single flower in front of it.

He glanced at Jason, wondering if he felt discomfort being in a place he had once crawled out of.

"At least she's resting," said Jason, gaze lowered. Tim nodded in agreement.

After just talking to Kagami Tsurugi and Luka Couffaine, Tim finally understood what Adrien meant by 'protective'. Both were stubbornly tight-lipped—Tsurugi being cold and stoic, while Luka being good at diverting to another topic. Suffice to say they didn't gain any useful information. Chloe's lead seemed to be on a roadblock for the meantime too.

Tim stared at the words. What had she been thinking in her last moments? Was her spirit craving for vengeance? What should they do?

"Did you know they symbolize perseverance?" Jason said out of the blue.

"What?"

"Plum blossoms. Also 'patience' and 'good health'," he replied, "That sounds like her."

Tim sighed. Yeah we could use that patience right now. "What if we're not meant to find out the truth?"

"But no matter how you look at it, it's a fishy case. Whoever covered this up, they deserve to be exposed."

Before Tim could think of a reply, they heard another set of footsteps was heading towards them. They came face-to-face with a tall young woman, with straight jet black hair cropped close to her neck and a long skirt that tickled the ground, along with thick boots. She, too, brought along flowers which she would offer to Marinette. They way she stood—stiff and straight, just with the right level of grace—reminded Tim of a professional dancer.

"Hello," the woman greeted quietly, "Who are you two?"

"Private consultants." Jason smoothly played the 'fake detective' card again. "We're here for an anonymous request for the reinvestigation of Marinette Dupain-Cheng's death."

The woman's eyes widened slightly. "I see," she murmured, gliding past them to lay down her own flowers.

Seeing her up close, the resemblance struck Tim immediately—though having a different style, this woman must be Juleka Couffaine, twin sister to the man they had just talked to earlier that day. He remembered that she worked as a professional model in Los Angeles.

"She was my classmate," Juleka said softly, "This is the only time I can visit home so I decided to stop by. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Tim and Jason shared a look. The former replied, "Did you notice anything strange before her death?"

She thought for a moment, and then shook her head slowly. "Sorry, I can't think of anything." She shifted from one foot to another. "By any chance . . . have you talked with Luka Couffaine? He and Marinette were close."

"We have but . . ."

She gave a wry smile. "Let me guess. Talking with him is like going around in circles?"

Tim nodded. "He's very fond of Marinette, but he was . . . hesitant about sharing."

Though 'hesitant' wasn't exactly the right word for it. More like 'closed off'?

"Luka is my brother actually. When Marinette died, he stopped playing music and hid everything she made for him," Juleka recounted grimly. "I tried to stop him, but he refused to talk to me at that time."

Tim didn't imagine Luka to be like that—in fact, he even talked about Juleka when their band got brought up. But then again, maybe his coldness had been because of another reason . . . Could Juleka have sided with Lila at one point?

She sighed. "To be honest, I think Luka changed because of it. He tries to hide it, and he's good at that, but he never vents it out to anyone."

"That's uh, a normal grief response."

"Come to think of it, there's one thing from Marinette that Luka kept," said Juleka. "He didn't bring it along with him though when he started going on his tours. It's in our room. Maybe it'll help with your investigation."

Tim pursed his lips. "I'm sorry miss . . . er . . ."

"Juleka. Juleka Couffaine."

"Right. Miss Couffaine, do you think it's a good idea to just hand us something that's your brother's?" 

"I'm not giving it to you; I'm just letting you take a look. Before he left, Luka told me to 'take care of it' as if I wasn't also leaving." She crossed her arms. "So I don't think the secrecy of it matters to him. It's just that I can't make sense of it, and why it's the one thing Luka chose to keep."

"What do you mean?" asked Jason.

"I'll show you. Our houseboat's nearby."

Tim should've known better than to spontaneously agree to follow a stranger just for a potential clue, but he was getting curiouser by the minute. If Marinette left Luka something that points to her death, it could be important to shed light on all the mystery. Jason also looked convinced about it.

The Couffaine houseboat stuck out loudly in the street. The carefree design of its exterior strangely matched Juleka's reserved nature. She had them wait outside as she slipped into the abode to retrieve the so-called clue.

"Couffaine didn't tell us anything about that," Jason piped up.

"Luka Couffaine didn't tell us anything."  Tim rolled his eyes. "We'll just have to take this chance and hope it gets us somewhere."

Juleka soon came back—

"A pouch?" Jason stared at the little crocheted piece in her hands. It was made of blue and purple threads, with a darker color forming a sort of pattern on it.

"She loved making handcrafted things." She carefully handed it to them. "It's not the pouch itself that's important. It's what's inside."

There's something inside this? It feels so light. Slowly, Tim pulled at the top of the pouch to let it open. Inside was a small pink piece of paper, bearing a doodle that looked like a box with a curled letter 'M' on it.

A memory flashed in his mind. Adrien's office. That strange box!

"Does it make sense to you?" Juleka's eyebrows knit together.

"I don't think so," Jason lied, putting it all back together and returning it to her. "Is it something Marinette owned?"

The woman bit her lip. "I think it was, but I don't remember it very well. It could be in her room, if you could visit the Dupain-Chengs' bakery."

But it's not in her room. It's with Adrien . . but why?

"We still appreciate your help," Tim consoled, "We'll look into it more, don't worry."

Her grip on the pouch tightened. Just a little. "Okay. I hope . . . I hope I can be useful this time."

***

"Sabrina, I love these cupcakes you brought!"

Sabrina tucked her hair behind her ear. "Really? I ordered a custom box for you. I thought you'd like it."

Saturday morning welcomed the two with pastries and coffee inside Lila's lavish apartment, which was currently being arranged by her staff for a shoot. Lila herself was clad in a bathrobe, with only part of her hair done.

The brunette picked up a delicately-made cupcake, holding it between her thumb and index. "So I was wondering by the way . . ."

"Hmm?"

"Remember when we had that reunion?" She propped her chin on her other hand. "I was just a little concerned about Chloe. Was she acting a bit strange to you?"

Sabrina's eyes widened as she remembered the reunion: Chloe's pale face, shaking hands. "Yeah, Chloe was acting weird. She kept looking at Adrien."

"What's up with that?"

Sabrina shook her head. "I don't know. She pulled him aside after but I couldn't hear what they were saying. She just kept pulling on him and asking him 'tell me, tell me', and she looked very anxious."

Lila blinked. "And how did Adrien react?"

Sabrina's expression darkened. "I don't know. He looked a bit mad, or annoyed maybe."

At first there was a calculating face on Lila, as if she was weighing something over. But then she transitioned into an airy laugh. "It's just Chloe being clingy as usual then! Poor Adrien . . ."

But Chloe's grown out of that phase, Sabrina wanted to protest. Usually, Chloe was calm and collected, and if she became visibly nervous then something must be wrong. But Sabrina couldn't think of anything that would set her off, so she kept quiet about it and didn't ask Chloe.

"Thanks for telling me, Sabrina, it's been at the back of my mind for ages." Lila smiled widely. "Speaking of Adrien, I think it's time I have a chat with him."

***

"And that's why we have to go back to Adrien and talk to him." Tim pressed the phone closer to his ear.

Dick hummed, feet propped up on a table in the Batcave. He'd been looking into the case himself on the side, sometimes asking for Damian's input as well. "How sure are you he'll talk or let you look into that box?"

"I think he'll be loose-lipped about it . . . I mean he wants to find out the truth,  right? He won't deny us a clue!"

"Fine, but if he won't touch the subject, there's something else I want you to ask him."

"What is it?"

Dick tapped his pen against his cheek, looking at a photo on the screen. "There's one more person we haven't considered who might have insight on this case, who had these back and forth trips to Paris shortly after Marinette's death. I need you to ask Adrien about him."

Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @toodaloo-kangaroo@missmadwoman @afanofmanyships@atomicherringpersonjudge-blog@wheredostarsgowhenyoudie

[ms-nesbit]

Good jay hunting (chapter three of empire records)

Chapter one and two found here (x) (x)

Rating: 18+ (say it with me: minors, fuck off!)

Summary: y/n and jason go on a date at the gotham cemetery, where jason tells y/n about his tenure as robin. Her feelings for him deepens, so much that he receives a surprise when the date is over.

Trigger warning! This chapter dives into Jason Todd’s history, which includes: d0mestic vi0lence, r@pe, pr0stitution, substance @buse, child @abuse, and neglect. PLEASE be advised.

ao3

Note: I fucking loved writing this chapter. I will take a break though because it hit a little too close to home for me. I hope you all enjoy and, as always, reblog and refrain from being a dickhead and reposting my work elsewhere. Thank you!

A cold front ushered into Gotham quicker than the summer heat could pay its sorrowful respects, Gothamites struggling to acclimate to the drastic change in temperature. On the Gotham News Network, gas leaks and lawsuits were reported, detailing the inhumane treatment landlords provide for the elderly; it was nothing new to the godless city, each sin managing to top another.

Jason was desensitized to it, too. He recalled his time in an apartment on the upper East side of Gotham, near Murphy Ave. - his biological father stumbled through the door, fury steaming from his lips in the scent of bourbon, as he picked which target to his unfathomable wrath; Jason’s mother sacrificed herself when Jason’s motor skills were still developing, and skull fusing together from his ripe birth; yet, when Jason began reading, gaining ideas that inspired him to do good, he stood before his mother, fists balled and chest puffed, a zeal of a thirty year-old in a nine year-old’s body.

His father was why Jason’s mother dipped her toes into medication - he injured her so severely, she visited the doctor, who abruptly prescribed her narcotics without questioning the source of her injuries, and sent her on her way. Each tablet was a sense of bliss to her, something she missed so dearly, it enveloped her in endless bliss when she re-experienced it, so she became erratic for more, bargaining with the local shadows to entice her, indulge her, give her what she needed.

And Jason was learning from this. He blinked his deer eyes as he saw his mother dive into the pill bottle face first, and how his father’s silhouette looked carved in chalk. I’m okay, he told his teachers when they noticed his missing assignments, or unexcused absences from school. I was just sick. I forgot.

Never could he step down from his position as son, mother, and father - he was all a nuclear family to himself, and couldn’t afford to jeopardize his position. With his father dead, he was man of the house at ten, and grew three sizes to accommodate; with his mother paralyzed by chemically-induced numbness and familiarity in the shape of ovular bliss, Jason adapted rapidly, cooking meals for himself and his mother. And without the income, he stole what he could; after being arrested a few times, he feared not his own record becoming tarnished with demerits, but the judicial attention being shifted to his mother, whom he dearly loved and missed, and instead sold his soul to the streets, begging to give whatever he could so he could feed his mother, care for his mother, rear his mother as she needed.

After that dreadful night, though, when he visited his friends after school instead of checking on his mother, he re-entered the apartment, dirtied and covered in neglect. The air was thick with news he believed he had the power to prevent, the poor boy, his last light of innocence taken from him with her final breath before she lay lifeless on the bathroom tile floor, becoming one with the grime and mildew that accumulated.

He shed no tears that night. He cradled her, listened to her in lament, but remained a soldier for the mother he wished he knew. Jason held her as he rocked her to sleep, hoping the embrace could restore her soul to eternal happiness in the afterlife. With her, a piece of his soul died, too, and his smiles were in vain, voice seeming a bit tainted with a poison others in his life couldn’t quite identify.

It was quite ironic that he loved the theatre tenderly, as he became an actor at a young age, playing the role of a century. He performed at Apollo Theater as Lady McBeth, his mourning in tow each day he spoke of his mother and her life, as if she wasn’t a ghost haunting his mind post-sunset. His tongue was burning and heart lonesome as he performed exquisitely, so well that even he was convinced that his mother would be at home, waiting upon his arrival.

One night, after escaping from the hands of his disparaging foster parents, Jason picked up his equipment used to steal - or boost, if you will - automotive parts for cash. He used the pieces as relics to restore value to himself, whether it be in form of wrinkled, used money, or bartering for shelter, transportation, or a favor; that night, however, proved to be different in many ways: the moon entered its final phase, the quarter presenting itself behind passing clouds, Jason’s best friend had been missing for days, only to have his body recovered from the lake that day (another day of grief for Jason, no doubt, although he was anesthetized to death).

Jason found an abnormally shaped vehicle in Crime Alley, and he snickered to himself when he approached the profile, it was…the Batmobile. He kneeled and began his workmanship, spinning the car jack to loosen the lug nuts. Before he could finish, though, a presence bestowed itself behind him, the Fool, and it was the caped crusader himself.

The following months were a quick haze for the pre-teen - the vigilante revealed his identity as Bruce Wayne, and Jason, although ecstatic to belong in a home once again, didn’t shake his misfortune, the baggage worn around his neck like a lagahoo. If it wasn’t in his days as anxiety attacks and hoarding, anticipating the next loss, then it was carried through in his subconscious, the most unsuspecting of all in forms of nightmares and shapeshifting creatures lurking with a liquor bottle and belt.

Screams and pleas entered the halls of Wayne Manor, carrying all the way to Bruce’s chambers, and sometimes, on the most unforgiving nights, into the Batcave. It brought heartbreak to the home, especially to Bruce’s butler, Alfred, who served Jason much closer than Bruce could. Although Jason’s older adoptive brother, Dick, was polite and respectful of Alfred, Jason saw Pennyworth eye-to-eye, restoring some youth into the mature man when Jason assisted him in the kitchen, or with chores, with such glee (and it was a delightful task for Jason to partake in! He longed for mundane tasks that other children took for granted, gruelled about, resented their parents for, and Jason smiled with each load of laundry completed, or dinner prepped with Alfred.).

“We must do something, Bruce.” Alfred begged Bruce with broken eyes. “Not that cloak.” he spoke vehemently, with such disgust that the man could ever dare coerce Jason back into danger, this time with less protection and a daring purpose.

Yet his concerns were dismissed by Bruce’s concoction of arrogance and stubbornness, a deadly duo that ultimately led Jason to his demise by the clown prince of crime. His lifeless body lay on the concrete, and Bruce was taken aback by the woeful fate of the boy, despite the stern admonishments made by his aid at home. He vowed never to risk another boy’s life after this, to allow Jason to rest after sixteen years of distress.

The truth unfolded after the detective unmasked details of his son’s death: the clown had tempted him with the unveiling of his mother’s existence, his true mother. The pictures the clown’s unhinged partner took, which were messily glued to Todd’s tombstone, left little to Bruce’s imagination: the torture his son endured at the hands of a criminal, the look of terror in the boy’s eyes in one photo, with a shadow of a man’s arm in the air, crowbar in hand…

It was the first time since Martha and Thomas’s deaths that Bruce wept, shoulders slumped as he hiccuped. The boy died in vain. For nothing. There was no rest for his tortured soul, no restitution, requisition for the last breaths laborly drawn.

And when Jason arose from the dead, vindication sharp on his tongue, and life stolen from his green eyes, it only instigated heavier burden on Bruce’s aching bones, remorse deep in his voice when he faced the revived Jason returning back to Wayne Manor, distraught from uncovering that shortly after his death, Bruce replaced him.

—

“So…you were Robin?” y/n asked.

Jason nodded sadly, face pointed at the starry sky. “Yeah.”

Silence cursed them again, the night drawn out from Jason’s confession. Y/n didn’t expect it to be this tragic, although she appreciated it quietly. “Do you miss her?”

The words caught Jason off guard. He was used to y/n’s surprising angle on conversations, scoping out a person differently than the status quo. No small talk, no pleasantries, just rawness. “I talked with Bruce’s shrink about it - he said she could help or some shit,” his face warped in disapproval. “But I don’t. I romanticized the idea of her, but to be honest, she chose drugs over me. It hurts sometimes to think about, but that’s that. It was easier for me to think of my dad as a piece of shit, because he basically hit me more than he talked to me.”

“Makes sense. Guys are often stupid pieces of shit. No offense.” y/n raised a hand.

Jason shrugged. “None taken, we’re sacks of fucks.” he scoffed at his own comment. “I still kinda resent Bruce for wanting me to be Robin, I mean…why did he think that was any bit okay to do?”

“Maybe because that was the only way he could handle grief?” y/n offered.

Propping himself on his arms, palms flat behind him, he breathed deeply. Y/n had a point, though: when Bruce introduced the idea to Dick, Dick felt the same type of grief Bruce had; however, when the mantle was passed to Jason, the mourning was different, if at all: both Bruce and Dick had someone to lose, whereas Jason hadn’t.

And it showed when Jason worked the role. He showed sympathy to petty criminals, sometimes aiding and abiding them, to Bruce’s disapprobation; his demeanor soured as intel regarding trafficking rings and abusers surfaced, knuckles bruised and teeth clenched as perpetrators’ blood spurted onto the Robin costume, tainting its bright colors into a deeper, richer tone.

It was worse when Bruce pushed Jason to attend the Wayne galas. The upper class flocked their wealth and acquitted crimes, which burned Jason’s ears as he heard someone’s misfortune reduced into a witty anecdote paired with hor d'oeuvres and sparkling champagne.

Jason knew of the children who were taken by the boogeymen and women in the dark. He knew of their lives and tales that were once short, stout, and sweet. The attendees spoke of their deaths apathetically, muttering insults under their breath as they attempted to justify their ill motives. Almost as if these were the boogeymen and women, simply dressed up in thousand-dollar gowns and heirlooms that cleverly disguised their sharp talons and venomous taste for the vulnerable, their souls containing all moral onus were snatched from their now-empty vessels. He argued with them at the galas about the children, urging them ferociously about their contributions, as if nobody dare exist outside of them.

How could they? A life so lavish, how could they know of any decision made out of self-preservation and greed rather than sympathy and the greater good? They were the one-percent, top of the socioeconomic chain, the bourgeoisie glaring down from their terrace views at the filthy proletariats below them - and while one could argue that the view from up high could be so grand that even the diamonds in the filth could be mistaken for fool’s gold, the wounded mistaken for the parasite that would consume the rich had they attempted to so much as inspect the streets, why would they then take measures to ensure their own safety, stuff more money into their pockets, knowing what they’ve seen?

The pasta salad Jason was poking at lost its flavor. A shame. “I know that Bruce couldn’t understand, but…Dick? I mean, you said he was Robin, too, right? And it wasn’t like he came from a wealthy background.” Y/n spoke between munches of lettuce that hung out of her mouth.

“Dick traveled a lot, and his family didn’t have a ton, but they were…a family.” Jason’s words were a sad string playing into the cemetery. 

It was the truth. Jason was a true reflection of the city in which he was raised: impoverished and tattered, the result of a godless, greedy, unfiltered city full of beasts whose sins remained unpunished, unanswered for. His heart pumped true - as that of Dick and Bruce - but in deep red, different than the blue blood that his adoptive elder brother and father carried in themselves; they could never understand him, really, their path vastly disparate than Jason’s living tragedy.

All y/n could think to do was kiss the man beside him, spilling his life before her atop the delectable array of desserts he prepared for her. She cupped his cheek with her hand and pulled him toward her, their lips clashing into a deep but slow kiss. As y/n’s lips moved to hold Jason’s, she felt a tear on her thumb, the one on Jason’s cheek, and she inched her body closer to his, to ensure that she wasn’t another chapter in his story, either.

She hadn’t disclosed her sobstory - the one filled with angst, betrayal, and the anguish of abuse and torment year after year from those closest to her; she was just as tired as he, and finally felt a bond, vulnerable with someone besides the weeping albums she listened to when her nightmares resurfaced.

When they broke their kiss, only the faintness of the ghosts from their graves divided Jason and y/n. They held their hands, fingers interlocked, as they stayed close. Y/n hummed when Jason wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and Jason smiled (for the first time in hours) when y/n reached up to kiss the white patch of his hair, now knowing its origin.

Instead of parting ways after their food finished, they laid down, hip to hip, and counted the stars as they relished in the caress of each other’s skin. It was the first time Jason saw y/n so disarmed, which was jarring compared to her all-plaid, studded outfit. He liked her anyway, a bit too much for his liking, afraid that he was diving too deep.

And before y/n drifted to sleep in Jason’s arms, she felt the same fear subside, until it quieted to nothing but a puny whisper.

—-

Jason’s administrative account was open on his laptop when he arrived back at his home, securing each lock before he removed his leather jacket and set down his biking helmet.

He glanced at a notification on his phone, which was from y/n. He was glad she wasn’t insecure and reached out to him first. The innocent grin on his face quickly turned amorous as he opened the notification, which brought him to a video y/n sent of herself. 

Naked.

Masturbating.

Determined, Jason shuffled to his armchair, unbuckling his jeans and wriggling his cock free from them as he sat and watched the video. Y/n ran a hand up and down her body suggestively, showing Jason what he was missing; then, after brief teasing, she opened her legs, sitting up as she revealed her wet cunt on full display for the camera. Jason’s cock twitched when he saw her swollen clit aching to be touched, and the thought of his head between her legs, thigh on either side of his shoulders, almost made Jason explode there.

Instead, he took the fuel and set up his webcam and account, enabling bluetooth on his phone and connecting his wireless headphones to privately hear y/n’s noises. He pressed a key on his laptop, beginning the livestream.

On one hand, he held the phone, the content away from the webcam’s view; his other hand stroked his cock, quickly, as he followed y/n’s every word.

“Put your cock in me, Jay.”

“Fuck! Yes, eat me out just like that.”

The phrases were too much for Jason to handle, who was moaning incoherently, fitting in garbled, “So hot” and “Gonna make you come.” His hand moved rapidly on his cock, and he was getting close, noises crescendoing. “Y/n, y/n, so good.”

It wasn’t until y/n exploded, dildo inside of her and fingers circling her clit, that Jason’s orgasm was ripped from him, his body tensing as he nearly screamed, eyes squeezing shut as he rocked his hips into his hand. “God, fuck.” he yelped, sucking a breath in as he felt his body tense up again after he thought his climax was over.

He had forgotten he was live. He didn’t know he said her name aloud in the dazed state. Nor did he know that he continued to say her name, over and over, as cum shot from his cock.

“I’ve been seeing someone. Hope none of you are jealous.” he admitted, blushing. “I’ll see you all later. Till then, take care.” he ended the livestream abruptly, finally taking a breath after logging out of his administrative account.

He closed his laptop and set it on the end table beside the wingchair, heading to the bathroom to shower and masturbate again to y/n.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

You've Always Been the Sweetest Song

First posted: May 25, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne

Favorite bookmark: "Oh my god i came looking for gold and I received mythril. IT'S THE GOOD CONTENT FOLKS.

Tier: Pretty middle, but at least in the top half of all metrics

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

As I put in the notes for this one, the idea started with watching Under the Red Hood for the first time with @starknjarvis27 and LOSING. MY. MIND. over how the movie chose to set up and portray Jason's return to Gotham. Then I went on a rabid rant to @audreycritter about how it SHOULD have gone, and here we are.

The title comes from a David Cook song that is a very Bruce song to me.

As best Bruce could reason, there were nine possibilities, ranging in plausibility from manageably unusual to outright insane, as dictated by the facts he could be sure of.

The thing about Bruce is he will always try to be logical. This is especially true in high-stress high-emotion moments. This poor man had to bury his son and was deeply destroyed for several years after. And now he suspects a new enemy might actually be his dead son, whose corpse he held and whose body he buried??? My guy is not going to reach that conclusion without AMPLE evidence AND every other alternative being crossed off as implausible, even if he has that immediate spark of recognition.

Figuring out what Bruce would accept as confirmed fact and what theories he would consider was a challenge, but a fun one. The tricky thing for me was I did need to get him to the place where he would rationally be able to consider Jason resurrected as plausible, when that's not a very plausible possibility at all. Comics, man.

The Cave was empty. Bruce’s foul mood—really, no more than poorly disguised panic, but foul nonetheless—had run off everyone else. Even Alfred. He was alone, with nothing but the computer and a backlit memorial case to keep him company. It was safe to rest his head in his hands, so he did.

My boy was going through it.

All Bruce had was the life before him, the one with visits from Dick, patrol with Tim, and solitary visits to a quiet cemetery. To hope for anything different was… foolish. . . . Even when the results returned and the screen flashed bright with a name and an achingly familiar face, Bruce felt like he was waiting still. Some possibilities were scratched off, some shuffled to put them higher or lower in the probability rankings. But the truth waited.

Bruce, bless him, will always prioritize the truth, even when it's a truth that hurts him. And that often means that even when he wants something badly, he won't give in to the temptation of the lie. He wants his son back more than anything, but he wants it to be his son. Jason is too important to replace with a falsehood.

He couldn’t tell Alfred. Couldn’t bear the thought of putting the old man through whatever it was this was without answers. Couldn’t tell Dick or withstand the confusion, the demands, the fresh heartbreak. Couldn’t tell Tim. Couldn’t begin to fathom what this would mean for any of them.

Bruce so often is so alone, not even necessarily by choice, not because it's his preference, but because he would rather take a heavy burden on himself than unload onto others and damage them in the process. (He is not always correct on the consequences and sometimes badly misjudges. But still he is trying.)

It couldn’t be Jason. Jason Todd was just a boy, slight and wiry even for fifteen. He had yet to reach his growth spurt, his potential for height only evident in the gangliness of his limbs, the knobby stretch of hands and feet too big for him. Though fed regularly and lovingly by Alfred, he had never quite shaken the damage of years of malnutrition. He was just a little boy.

This is a thing I love love love love to dig into, both from Jason's perspective and from those who knew him before. He wasn't just 15 and growing; in my version of this world, he's slight. There was no indication in him that he would become a tank. And besides, even if there had been, he was just a kid when he died and he was gone for several years.

Hood’s voice was low and rough, like a crowbar dragged across cement.

My favorite descriptor. It's a mean little nod on my part but also really how I mentally characterize Jason's voice as Hood, thanks to repetitive listens to "The Devil & the Huntsman" and "Arsonist's Lullaby" while thinking about Jason. It also matches neatly with the way Jensen Ackles voices Jason in the movie, so.

Red Hood laughed. It was not Jason’s laugh. It was hard, unyielding, and utterly devoid of humor. . . . Stop. Stop. Don’t use his words. Don’t use that name. Not without proof.

He so badly wants Hood to be Jason, because he wants his son to be alive, but he CANNOT let himself believe until he's certain. Believing a lie would break him.

At Bruce’s movement, he had swung the gun around and pointed it squarely at Bruce’s chest. Bruce didn’t care.

My original discussion with Audrey involved some version of me ranting that Bruce would hug his son even while Jason stabbed him, and I initially intended to write an actual stabbing but it got in the way.

Bruce’s arms tightened further, one hand coming up to cup the back of the neck, and he buried his nose into the sweaty, riotous curls. He knew that smell. Bruce breathed in movie nights and late-night homework sessions, false alarms and real scares, sick days and training sessions. He knew the smell of these curls, of this boy, as well as he knew his own name.

This was the bit that I text-screamed at either Audrey or Stark that got me to write this fic. Bruce Wayne absolutely buries his nose in his kids' hair and he absolutely 100% know exactly what they smell like.

[vee-crytraps]

Good Luck, Babe! | Ch 1-3 | Ice Cream for Breakfast

{Trigger Warning/Themes Masterlist} This is split into a billion parts because it's long as hell! Read on Ao3 to avoid the headache!

The rest of your breakfast went by just like that, with the members of your family begrudgingly finishing their unhealthy breakfasts. Dick volunteered to clean up with Alfred (who was spared your wrath), just to see how many beads it would earn him. The answer, as it turned out, was three. “Are you sure you don’t have any blue?” “You’ll take red and you’ll like it.”

Free from dish duty, you took the time to slip on some easy outdoor shoes. The dewy, early morning grass crunches under your soles as you approached the Wayne family cemetery. Aside from Jason’s empty lot, there was only one non-Wayne buried behind the manor, the grave well tended and resting at the base of a ten year old weeping willow. A silver spoon clinked and swirled in the crystal parfait cup with each step as you approached, kneeling in front of the grey stone. “Oreo froyo, with crushed cookie bits and enough cherries to feed a small village.” You presented, placing the offering at the base of the grave. “I can’t believe you’re still terrorizing me with frozen yogurt from the afterlife,” A breeze comes in, rustling the wispy branches and tendril like leaves. “Obviously I can’t leave it out here. It might poison a deer or raccoons or something,” You mumble. “But I hope you appreciate the gesture.” After twelve years, you didn’t have much to say to her anymore. Especially with how frequently you visited. You let the tips of your fingers graze against the letters, carved deep into the smooth stone. Eventually, you sit there long enough that small rocks and outdoor debris press into the skin on your knees. You only feel it when you’re pulled from the trance as Bruce runs his fingers through your hair. When you can finally bring yourself to look up at him, he reveals the party hat he’d been hiding behind his back with his free hand. You let out a snort that brings a smile to your face, despite the tears that prick in the corner of your eyes. “I knew I was forgetting something.” Together, you manage to find a stone that traps the thin string of the paper hat against the earth, leaving it to sit upright with little fear of it blowing away. Shortly after, you find yourself taking Bruce’s offered hand, nuzzling into his side as he walks you back across the grounds and into the manor. He couldn’t count on his fingers and toes how many colds you’d gotten from sitting by her side over the years, lost in your thoughts no matter the weather. It was probably close the same amount he’d gotten when he was your age, grieving the loss of his own parents. When you’re safely inside, he turns you around by your shoulders at the door of the staircase. “Go get washed up for your party, your face is all sticky.” Laughing, you reach up to cover his hand with yours, offering a light squeeze.

Part 4

[how-very-salty]

diet coke

Veronica Sawyer x Jason J.D. Dean. Heather Chandler (mention), Heather Duke (mention)

TW: mention eating disorder

Summary: Veronica is anxious about her weight, and J.D. knows who to blame.

(fluff, talks and a little fightings, supporting J.D., weight anxious)

_________

"Good morning, princess," a familiar, slightly husky voice murmured from behind her, surrounding Veronica with the thick smell of tobacco and motor oil. "Having breakfast all alone?"

"It's lunchtime, weirdo," she pecked J.D.'s cheek with a quiet chuckle and quickly pulled away, rubbing her lips. "Ouch! Why are you so stubbly, oversleeping again?"

He smirked, and carelessly shoved somebody's stuff aside and slumped into the chair next to her.

"Nah, been fiddling with the bike all morning. Damn thing wouldn't start again," he sighed noisily and glanced disapprovingly at the contents of her tray. "Shit, and I was hoping it was breakfast after all... Because this, honey, doesn't even come close to looking like lunch."

With a guilty look, Veronica picked up a leaf of lettuce with her fork and stared at it in disgust. She wanted to eat something normal, like a hot dog or a hamburger, but....

"I'm just not hungry," she shook her head and put the fork down.

Her stomach responded with a treacherously loud rumble, and Veronica, flushed, hastily excused herself, "It's..."

"It's that bitch again, isn't it?" J.D.'s face twisted with anger. "Did she say something about your weight again?"

"Well... if I gain a few more pounds," her voice grew quieter with each word, "I'm going to look like a whale..."

"Fuck," he exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Fuck! You're the smart one, Ronnie, so why the fuck are you listening to her?"

"But I gained weight! And Chandler's my friend," Veronica mumbled insecurely, "it's her way of taking care of me..."

"Well, she already took care of Duke," J.D. grinned fiercely and stared at her; she shivered and stopped talking, "and now, as a 'good' friend, she brings her flowers to the hospital and, I'm sure, still enjoys throwing in a few words about her looks. She's just found a new way to bully her. Am I wrong?"

She silently shook her head without looking up: he was frighteningly accurate. On their last visit, Chandler had brought some blush and advised Duke to "do something about that sickly look. Veronica had never forgiven Duke for the cemetery prank, but at that moment, she'd felt insanely sorry for her.

"Damn it, Veronica, you promised you'd kick Heather out of your life," J.D. snapped angrily, moving closer to hover over her. "But somehow you still let her wipe her feet on you! Would you please stop kissing her ass already?"

"You don't understand," she jumped up and glared at him, her lips pressed together in anger, "I've sa..."

"I don't fucking get it anymore, Ronnie," he stood up abruptly from the chair and almost dropped it. "If you're scared, I could protect you!"

"You can't fight off teasing and rumors with your fists, J.D.," Veronica shook her head wearily and looked up at him. "I've said it before: I don't want to stand alone against the whole school."

"But I'll be right there!" he slammed his fist into the table, causing the trays to bounce and jingle pitifully. "Isn't that enough? ...ah, screw it!"

J.D. turned and dashed out of the cafeteria with a quick stride. With a soft curse under her breath, Veronica grabbed her bag and ran after him.

Fortunately, he hadn't gone far: he was standing not far from the cafeteria entrance, leaning against the wall, furiously trying to wipe the soot off his hands with the edge of his shirt. Slowing her pace, she hesitantly approached and stood beside him. Pretending not to notice her, J.D. continued to rub the stain in silence, rubbing it harder into his skin. Veronica sighed heavily.

"That's enough, but it's... it's different," she stammered, trying to find the words. "I want to make good memories, J.D. I want to remember parties at Mac's, sleepovers at Chandler's, and going shopping with all the Heathers. I want to have fun at graduation! Not just remember bullying and laughing in the back for the rest of high school, you get it?" she asked.

"No, I don't get it," J.D. muttered grimly, rubbing the black mark on his arm in irritation. "It's all a fucking fake!"

"Not everything, just some of it," Veronica put her palm on his arm, stopping him gently. "But even if I fake it somewhere, I won't remember it later. Only the good stuff will stay. Just a few more months, J.D., and we'll be out of here..."

He shook his head stubbornly:

"I shouldn't have told you about the mugs back then, you know," his lips pressed into a thin line in contempt. "If that bitch had died back then, things would be a lot better now. For you and for everyone. The world would be a much nicer place without her!"

"Let's not get into that again," Veronica frowned and drew back sharply. "I'm tired of arguing and proving..."

"Wait! I'm sorry, I..." J.D. quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, "I just don't want to see you in a hospital bed! Not because of that bitch, not because of anyone. What if it had been you instead of Duke?"

Immediately softening, she stepped forward and laid her forehead on his chest. His arms immediately closed around her, confident and tight. Maybe too tight... He sighed loudly and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I'm not going to take suspect diet pills, I promise. Especially not after what happened with Duke," she muttered into his shirt. Her head was spinning badly: three days of lettuce leaves and apples had taken their toll. "But I am really overweight. And my thighs are huge! Soon it'll be time to buy a prom dress..."

"You have a wonderfully curvy body, darling. And an awesome ass, if you ask me," J.D. hummed, running his hand slowly down her back teasingly; she slapped his chest with a soft giggle, "so just buy a dress that shows it off. And I'll get busy scaring off all the guys who'll be drooling over it."

"You're such an idiot," Veronica giggled, reaching up and smooching him on his stubby chin. "That's why I love you! By the way, is your bike back on the beat?"

"Yeah," a broad smile spread across his face. "Where to, princess?"

"Let's go to 7-Eleven," she shook her head determinedly, "I'm starving for a giant hot dog!"

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

Guilt

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Word count: 611

A/N: Here is the convenience blurb I promised!! This wasn’t requested, it’s just something I had bouncing around my mind for a while. I’m going away for ten days on Monday and can’t take my laptop this time. So I have one more chapter of my Jason Todd series to post tomorrow and then that will be it until I get back. Anyway, I hope you like it!!

Ko-Fi

Series masterlist

Masterlist

Dick looked up from the stack of files on his desk as his doorbell rang. He pinched his eyebrows together; he was not expecting anyone this afternoon. It rang again and he sighed before pushing back from the desk and standing up. His eyes drifted to his gun, but he shook his head and walked to the door. He pulled the door open after a quick glance through the peephole, surprised as to who was there.

“Hey, kiddo.” Y/N tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

“Hey.” He stepped to the side to let her in, watching the way she was cradling her arm, clearly in pain. “This isn’t a social call, is it?”

“No. You saw the news the other night, about the Joker?” She glanced around his living room, taking in what had changed since the last time she visited him in Bludhaven, before turning back to face him.

He nodded, his stomach starting to feel uneasy. “Yeah. Bruce got any idea who the guy in the red mask was?” He knew he had hit the mark when her eyes got glassy and she had to sit down on his sofa. “Y/N?”

“It’s Jason.”

Dick’s heart stopped and he felt like someone was pumping ice water through his veins. “That’s not possible.” He watched as she pulled something up on her phone before holding it out to him. He looked at her uneasily before taking the phone from her and pressing play on the video. It was security footage from the station and he watched as hooded figure walked in, setting off none of the alarms, and started checking each of Y/N’s workbenches for something. His heart was in his throat as the figure pulled the dust sheet of Jason’s Robin suit and stuffed it in a bag before looking around for something else. When they could not find whatever they were looking for, they started to walk out, but not before pulling down their hood and smiling up at the camera.

He paused the video with shaking fingers, because while he looked older, a streak of his hair was white, and there was a scar across his cheek, it was definitely Jason.

“I went to the cemetery, to visit his grave, and he approached me there. He’s mad at Bruce for not killing the Joker. He forgot to disable the backup tracker in his suit after he took it, so I tracked him.” Y/N said, watching him closely. “I talked him down, but not before I got in between him and the Joker and he accidentally hit me with the crowbar. He didn’t want me to tell you, but he’s different.”

“Different how?” Dick said, barely above a whisper.

“He’s angry. He- he reminds me of Bruce before Gotham Square Garden, before he realised he wasn’t helping anyone as Vengeance.” She closed her eyes, several tears escaping from them. “He said he was going to finish it. We might need you help in the future, and you deserve to know.”

He sat down next to her on the sofa, still trying to wrap his head around everything. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.” She admitted.

“I’ll order some food and we can try and figure out what he might do next. If he’s angry at Bruce, it might be an idea to leave him out of it.” He stood up as she nodded and walked into the kitchen to grab his take-out menus. He took a moment to try and compose himself in the kitchen because, not for the first time, the guilt of not being there for Jason that night was threatening to eat him alive.

Taglist: In the reblogs

[nelkcats]

The Banshee, a JL mystery

A foreign case was being discussed by the Justice League, in general it was not bad, just rare.

It began a couple of months ago, a tourist had come to Star City, but he did not visit the city, he did not even register, he just pop out of nowhere, went to the cemetery, and apparently the cameras recorded him placing flowers in all the tombs and talking with the air or with some of the people engraved in the stones, they were not sure of it.

The strange thing was that the cameras around him were always corrupted, they needed the JLD to even stabilize the image, and ¿was that not worrying? They assumed that something supernatural was following him, the boy looked strictly human, but even the trackers that they tried to put were damaged around him.

Unfortunate for the entire league, although they had the guy features, the image was not clear enough for facial recognition.

The corrupted sound of the camaras sounded like a wail, or a cry, Constantine commented it remembered him to a banshee, so they started to call him "The Banshee" even if Zatanna told them Banshee were strictly women, it stayed.

The wave of visits continued, the boy went through Central City, Metropolis, Washington, Gotham, but it was later where something relevant happened again.

Jason was visiting his own grave when he noticed the boy, he tells, he cared because the young man seemed disconsolate looking at the graves, even yearning if that had some sense.

"Did you know him?" It may be the case of B, but it still had him intrigued. Also, the guy was looking at his grave, he felt like he have the right to ask.

"No, but you could say I already did" the boy sighed, stroking the stone of the tomb "I would also like it-..." Danny stopped, he should not be telling his problems to the owner of the tomb "Ah, no matter, it's good to know he was loved"

Jelousy, the reason why Danny visited the cemeteries was to calm himself, surrounded by what he wants but can not occur, to cry as no one cried for him, Clockwork always said that a part of him died at the moment nobody pay attention to his death, and ¿wasn't that funny?

"¿How do you know?" If someone asked Jason, he would affirm that it was uncomfortable to talk about himself as if he was still dead, but he couldn't do anything about it now.

"Well, he's buried and has a proper resting place, they keep bringing him flowers even though the inside of his grave is empty, you can see the recently removed earth; Many of the dead don't have that luxury, their bodies left somewhere, the missing people were never given a proper burial, I don't know man, ghosts can't build their own graves ¿you know?" He was probably ranting and he knew it, but Danny was tired, he wanted that too, and it was such a stupid rule not to be able to give himself his own resting place, but he wasn't going to burden Jazz, Sam, or Tucker with giving him a funeral.

It was the reason he did this, why he visited cemeteries, laid flowers and talked to the resident ghosts, he wanted to know the feeling, wanted to know what he had lost, wanted to be mourned too.

"Anyway, nice to meet you Nosaj Ddot, be a little grateful for what you have, ¿okay? I know some who would kill for it" he smiled ruefully, starting to pick up his basket of flowers, he had already made his rounds anyway. It was probably time to go back to Amity Park.

"¿Nosaj? What are you talking about-" but the boy was already gone, disappeared into thin air, his communications re-established at the same moment that he noticed his damaged tracker right next to the grave, a short circuit.

"The banshee ¿uh?, he sure is an interesting guy, maybe the League is really onto something this time."

[camels-pen]

got inspired by a fic i read the other day, but didn't quite hit the right spots for me so. time to write out a new wip idea

The concept of that fic really grabbed me - Jason and Tim having a bodyswap the same day Jason wakes up in his coffin, at a point after Tim had already visited Bruce and Alfred with his insistence that Batman needed a Robin - but for what I was thinking, by the time Jason convinces Bruce and Alfred of who he is, Tim's already started to dig himself out of the coffin. And when the three of them show up at the cemetery, the grave's empty.

Tim would be catatonic and go through much of the same stuff canon Jason went through before being found and dunked in the Pit. He'd end up enduring the whole League of Assassins shtick that canon Jason went through while at the same time Jason is dealing with Tim's regular person life. Both of them struggled a bit trying to imitate the other, but they managed- Tim with not much issue considering no one in the LoA was close to Jason, and Jason trying to manage Janet Drake's clearly growing concern every time he slips up.

Like, imagine Tim, desperately trying to imitate what he knows of Jason from watching Robin on the streets and seeing Jay in a few galas here and there. And one day, Talia tries to tell him he'd been quickly replaced to get him to finally listen and Kill Somebody/accept he was staying with the League until they deemed him fit to leave.

And Tim looks at a picture of himself, hanging around the front yard of Wayne Manor with Bruce, Alfred, and Dick. Another picture showing himself in an ill-fitting Robin uniform on a rooftop and seemingly getting lectured by Batman, who looms in front of him.

And he says "I'm not buyin' it."

Somehow convinces Talia that he's not convinced that the Tim in the photo (who is probably Jason and thank god, Tim was really worried about what happened to Jason's mind- or rather, his own body; he didn't actually consider Jason coming back to life until now) and she arranges a short trip for him to Gotham to see for himself.

Tim really struggles the next two days to keep up the Jason act, but he's pretty sure Talia and the others were just chalking it up to nerves at seeing his family again and the "newest addition".

When he finally gets to Gotham, he doesn't bother being stealthy. He doesn't have the skills- no matter how much Ra's and Talia's goons have been trying to beat it into him- and even if he did, he doubted he'd be able to sneak away from his own teachers that were stalking him from the shadows.

So he does his best to be casual. Walks straight towards Wayne Manor, and when he can actually start to hear his assassin stalkers the tiniest bit as he approaches the gate- a sign they're getting really restless- he decides now or never and bolts the rest of the way.

He thinks, if he had come sooner to Gotham, he would've tried fitting through the gaps in the bars- as if he was still 13 and small enough to fit- but as it is, Tim's spent 6 months in this body and he's not going to make that mistake.

Instead he slams a hand on the buzzer and says as fast as he can, "it's Tim! Tim Drake! There's assassins, open the gate!"

He has a heartstopping moment when nothing happens- when there's no answer and the ninjas are getting closer and closer and- And then it opens and Tim doesn't stop with his relief, he runs.

The door is opened not by Mr. Pennyworth, but by Bruce himself, a belt clipped around his waist, but entirely in sleepwear. He has something in his other hand and as he yells, "duck!" Tim can only think it's some kind of bomb and dives for the ground.

He was sort of right. It was a smoke bomb. He heard and smelled it hissing away behind him, and saw the cloud of smoke in his peripheral vision.

Bruce wasted no time running past him and barking, "Follow Alfred to the cave!" Tim took a moment to just breathe, feeling much more safe with Batman fighting to protect him. When Bruce looked back at him through a spot in the smoke, he yelled, "Go!"

Tim scrambled to obey, trying to run and stand and awkwardly doing both to get in the home. Mr. Pennyworth was just inside the foyer, out of sight of the windows, now that Tim noticed, and holding a shotgun.

He was also wearing a fluffy blue bathrobe and fuzzy pink bunny slippers.

Tim blinked. "Uhhh,"

"Come along, Master Tim. We must be quick."

He didn't protest and followed him down to the Cave, where Jason in Tim's body sat waiting at the Batcomputer.

Man, I'm not completely sure on the timing, but imagine Tim finally getting back into his body and it's- he's taller than he used to be, bulkier too. And there are reflexes and muscle memory stuff he doesn't remember at all, but now just has.

He- he was Robin. Or, his body at least, and he felt like it. But he never was Robin. Not really. He never got a proper outing, never even received Bruce's official approval for it.

It was strange. And not totally a good strange.

He thought about the body he had. He didn't have a lot of love for it- puberty would do that to anyone- but it was his. And that saying about not knowing what you have until you lose it? Yeah.

Tim felt like crying.

[the-void-writes]

78

Ooh, this one made me really happy so thank you 💖💖💖 I think I accidentally changed the context of the song by making it platonic, but the vibes of it are huge inspo lol. Also I can’t remember if I’ve posted this part of the story before, but I rewrote it a bit so that should be fine.

Freaks of Preston - Lost On You

Bluebrook Memorial was a large plot of garden tucked away in the furthest corner of Preston, right where the town blended into the forest. Originally, the memorial was just a plain cemetery, sectioned in half to accommodate Humans and Freaks to “keep the dead from rising,” or whatever the ridiculous rumor was at the time. Of course, as Preston started burying more Freaks than Humans, it was impossible to keep the plots separate. Landscapers took the opportunity to brighten the whole place up with rose bushes and ponds, so visiting Humans didn’t have to think about sharing the park.

They weren’t so concerned about it, though, after a certain death in Preston…

Will followed the stone trail through a tunnel of willows. The flowers in his hand still felt wet from their time in the market, freshly misted by the clerks. Lydia strolled behind him, burying her nose into her jacket like a makeshift mask.

“I swear,” she said, “the smell gets stronger each time we come here.”

“Makes sense,” Will said. “If the flowers weren’t here, you’d be smelling something else.”

“Right, gross.” She shook her head. “Still, you’d think they’d choose something more pleasant.”

“I think you’re the only person I know who hates the smell of flowers.”

“I like real flowers, not whatever these things are. They’ve got chemicals and stuff.”

“Well, it can’t smell any worse than that raccoon Maddie brought home yesterday.”

“You thought that was a raccoon? With that skinny little tail? That was a possum.”

Will shook his head. “It’s not the same head shape.”

“What, you think Maddie took the time to shave a raccoon’s tail before taking it home?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Lydia sighed and ran a hand through her tangled orange hair. “I still say possum.”

“Suit yourself,” Will said with a shrug.

“Really, you’re just giving up?”

“I don’t feel like arguing with someone who thinks the sun is smaller than Earth.”

Lydia glared at him. “Hey, I was young. I understand now.”

Will couldn’t help but smile. “You do?”

“It’s just the distance that makes it small.” She posed triumphantly. “So technically, it’s the same size as the moon.”

He laughed and walked ahead of her. Lydia chased after him.

“Take their pictures, they’re the same size!”

The siblings took a turn past a cozy little garden of succulents. At the end of the path, under the overgrown moss of a giant tree, sat the grave they were looking for. The busy sounds of Preston were almost nonexistent in this corner of the park, blocked off by unruly clusters of ivy and thorns. It was a beautiful location, but Will always felt his chest tighten whenever he neared it, like he was caught in a vice.

In the last few years, he had visited the grave many times, a vast improvement from the whole days he spent when they first laid down the body six years ago. As a child, Will had even slept beside the grave, in the crook of the tree’s roots that surrounded him like large bird wings.

Will stopped, placed his flowers in the special vase, and read the stone marker.

Jason Theodore Rhodes

August 27 1974 - June 2 2007

Always and Forever

It was a nice headstone, all smooth and polished, though Will was still upset about the name. He and Henry had fought so hard to make it “Jason Prescott,” but the engravers insisted on using his legal name, regardless of the fact that he was disowned by his parents. For people who wanted nothing to do with him, they refused to let anyone else have the final say in his funeral arrangements. They wouldn’t even believe he was a godfather, at first, until Mary straightened them out. Their compromise was to let Will choose the epitaph, the one part that his parents didn’t care about. Always and forever… It seemed like a joke now, but he valued those words deeply.

Lydia patted the stone softly. “Hey, Jason. We miss you.”

Will took a deep breath. He had done this dozens of times, but that didn’t stop the tears that threatened to run down his face. Lydia smiled at him.

“I’ll be over there,” she said. “Take your time.”

“Thank you.”

She walked back down the path, leaving Will with the headstone of his dearest friend. The clouds felt dark over his head as he stood over the spot. Gloomy weather, Jason would have called it, the perfect time to be sad. Even the birds were in mourning around him. Their chirps were akin to someone in hysterics— laughter turning into sobs, back and forth until they finally fell silent.

Will let himself speak, his voice unable to move past a whisper.

“We’ve started choosing our classes for next year. One of our science teachers is offering astronomy. You’d be so jealous.”

He chuckled to himself, already blinking back tears.

“Henry and I found a recipe for mint chocolate cake. I still don’t know if it’s the icing or the cake that’s mint.” He shrugged. “Thought it would be nice for your birthday.”

Will reached out and brushed some dirt off of the headstone. His hand lingered against it, as though it would disappear the minute he moved away.

“You were the best father in the whole world, Jace. I just wish we had more time… I’m so sorry.”

He could see Jason in his mind, smiling softly, telling him to cheer up. Not in the condescending way that most adults said it, but in the kind and sincere way that only he seemed capable of. Will let his hand fall to his side, and he walked back over to Lydia, who was eagerly watching a ladybug.

“All good?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She stood up and swung her arm around his shoulder. “You’re doing better, you know. We’re all proud of you… and he would be, too.”

“Thanks, Lyds.”

“Come on, let’s go grab Maddie and head home. She’ll prove that I’m right about the sun.”

Will smiled weakly. “Whatever you say.”

He let her drag him back down the path into town, listening patiently as she continued to explain how she was right. She was as goofy as she had been all those years ago, but Will was just happy to still have her in his life. He prayed that he wouldn’t lose her— or the rest of their family— the same way he lost Jason.

[alixgracchus]

An epilogue to the earring fic, you say ○.○!? Ohhhhohohoho, yeeees! If I could draw, I would absolutely draw Dick in those earrings! Maybe Slade nuzzling against his ear over his shoulder, sporting a bruised cheek from that fight (maybe other 'bruises' on him from Dick perhaps). I'll let you do with that mental image as you please.

~JasonTodd'sGhost 👻

Dick hummed, melting into Slade's solid warmth when the man came to have his hands wander under the young man's sleeping shirt. A callused hand traced the scar slashing the robin tattoo on his hip and the thicket of hair between his legs.

"Hi," Slade purred, lips on his pulse.

"I'm making breakfast, Slade," Dick mock protested as he tilted his waist into those warm, strong fingers playing with his happy trail.

Slade hummed, gently nibbling his ear, tongue playing with the silver robin adorning his earlobe. Dick had had the chain removed, making the rubies and the robins independant from one another so Dick could wear them all the time, putting medical tape over them when going on out on patrol. Bruce would have probably lectured him for three months straight for this.

The intrusive, idle thought made Dick's blood run cold.

He shoved the thought and the feeling aside, determined not to let this morning be ruined by the man. Slade made a questioning noise behind him, having sensed the shift in Dick's mood.

"You're thinking about Jason?" Slade asked him very gently, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

Yesterday Dick had visited Jason's grave. He had been devastated by the savage defilement the boy's grave had received. Why would someone dig him up and take his body? Slade had promised to have all his operatives on the case and had done his best to soothe Dick. He knew Jason's death had barely begun to heal. He was going to do his damnest to punish the people who had dared stick another knife in that wound.

"No," Dick shook his head, "Bruce."

The hands became fiercely protective on him.

"It's alright, really," he murmured, turning to nuzzle Slade's face.

Slade's phone rang somehwere in the living room. With a displeased growl, he reluctantly left Dick to answer it. The young man shivered, missing the solid warmth against his back as he focused on fixing breakfast.

"Are you sure?" he heard Slade say, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

Something in the way his lover spoke made him feel like something was happening. He put aside the pancakes and joined Slade in the living room. Seeing how grave he looked made the young man feel almost sick with anxiety.

"What is it?" he asked when Slade hung up.

His lover took a steady breath, and reached for Dick's hand.

"I don't want to upset you but... GCPD seems to have found a boy a few hours ago not far from the cemetery where Jason is– was buried. Beaten up bad. And calling for someone called Bruce."

Dick's heart fell right down in his stomach, blood stilling as he took in the information.

"You mean–"

"It could be a coincidence, Richard."

"Where is he?"

Slade sighed. He knew him. He knew there was no point trying to hold him back now.

"Saint Anthony's Hospital. I'll drive."

Dick jumped into his clothes, heart racing. He couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it.

(Slade later told him he had wailed like a wounded beast when he recognized Jason at the hospital. Dick didn't remember it. All he remembered was Jay's bruised, beaten up, slumbering face before everything blurred into a torrent of emotions. The next thing he recalled was the boy calling his name.)

[wonderlandleighleigh]

9 for the song ask game please!

She doesn't spend a lot of time in Gotham. Their lives are so firmly in DC these days that she doesn't think about it too, too much.

But Jason is from here. Is a born and bread Gothamite, and if questioned, he will never let you forget it.

They're here for a big charity event Bruce is holding. Something about building a new wing for the orphanage his mother started when Bruce was very little, and the man has done his damndest to keep it running smoothly; ethically.

But first, a pit stop.

It's not the type of graveyard Maggie is used to. Mostly, she inhabits well-kept, overly manicured military cemeteries, visiting with her father when he decides to go pay his respects.

This place is a little more like something out of a horror movie. The trees are overgrown, and the grass needs to be cut. Moss grows on some of the headstones. There's certainly a groundskeeper, but it seems like he doesn't do the upkeep as much as he maybe should.

"It's not a big deal," Jason shrugs as they walk. "All the tenants are dead, it's not like they notice."

She wants to argue that the upkeep is for the living who come to visit. To know that their passed loved ones' memorials are being cared for, but these kinds of debates never really go much of anywhere with him. He'll just shrug, tell her it isn't a big deal and move on.

They get to a small headstone and stand before it. It just reads Catherine Todd. No dates. No inscription. just the name.

"Beloved mother," Jason fills in, with a slight grin. "Terrible knitter. Worse cook."

"Good mom?" Maggie offers gently.

"The Miss Congeniality of moms," he tells her, before kneeling down and settling a bouquet of flowers on the grave. "She tried, though. She really did."

Maggie reaches down and strokes his hair gently. "When did you forgive her?" she asks.

He thinks about that for a long, quiet moment before getting to his feet and taking her hand. "I don't know. Somewhere along the way. Maybe after I left Gotham for DC. I didn't really notice that I had, until I started thinking about her again, but...yeah. Somewhere in there, I wasn't angry at her anymore."

Maggie nods and leans up to kiss his cheek. "You have dirt on your slacks. Bruce is going to notice."

"I'm a Robin," he reminds her with a chuckle as they head out. "If I didn't arrive to a party a little a little trashy he'd worry."

[peterxwade24]

Safety Found in Red Sleeves Shorts

Grave Talks

I hope you enjoy this little short about some of the graves in the SFiRS 'verse, and I hope you enjoy this little snapshot into Oswald's past.

Without further ado, on with the short.

It didn’t take long after it happened before Oswald Cobblepot was watching his friend be lowered into the ground. He had known Liuxian for a long time, longer than he would admit to anyone else, and couldn’t believe that she was gone.

Oswald and Liuxian, more commonly called Ozzy and Lucy, had been friends in high school, when they had both moved to town. Ozzy might have grown up down the road, in the next town over, but Liuxian had grown up in Shang Hai.

Ozzy had loved Lucy from the minute they met, two awkward twelve-year-olds who didn’t fit in with their peers. Lucy had been the one to push Ozzy into ornithology, noticing his love of birds and pushing him to take it further. Some would say that Lucy was the reason he became The Penguin but Ozzy liked to think that Lucy was the reason he was around for his chick.

Pere and Gale had silently been standing next to Oswald, letting him lose himself in his thoughts. They knew how hard it was for the man, as he had so few friends. They knew that he needed the time to reminisce as he watched his oldest friend go into the ground. Pere and Gale had never actually known Lucy, Ozzy and Lucy having had fallen out of touch when Lucy started working the streets and Ozzy started actively fighting against Batman.

Ozzy swore that Lucy would have loved the two of them, that she would have introduced the two to Thana as her aunts, just as Ozzy was her uncle.

Oswald turned away from his oldest friend, towards the two women who stood at his side through everything and with a smile offered them his hands. “Shall we go?”

The trio of birds walked out of the cemetery, their arms linked and Oswald’s head down as he left more than just his oldest and dearest friend behind, he left a good chunk of his very being in the cemetery too.

-*-*-*

Jason looked at his grave, a grimace on his face. “Did anyone even visit me here?”

Dick frowned and shrugged. “I don’t even know. I know I did a couple of times before I was shipped off to Jump City.”

Tim leaned against his brothers and nodded. “I visited once a week for a couple of months then it turned into once a month. I arranged for flowers to be delivered every week after the headstone was put in. I made sure the flowers were native flowers and that they rotate them according to when the flower blooms.”

“That’s really nice but also really weird Timbers.” Jason ruffled his brother’s hair and smiled. “We should probably get back before Kutlat Saghira drives the girls and Duke crazy.”

“Your kid? Drive anyone crazy?” Dick laughed as he dodged a hit aimed his way. “Jace, Baby Wing is a sweetheart. We love him, and all of us would do anything to help the two of you. He’s the next generation of this family.”

“Shut up Dickhead.” Jason pushed Dick’s shoulder before the three set off back towards the apartment. “It’s not just him. Mar’i and Jai and Irey, they’re the next generation too. The four of them? They’re this family’s future.”

“So what you’re saying is any children the rest of us have are the next generation of this family, even if they’re technically apart of the same generation as someone apart of this generation of the family.”

“Yes Timmy. Why? Are you thinking of having kids soon?” Dick smiled and laughed as Tim blushed bright red. “If you do decide to have kids, you’ll let someone know, right?”

Tim shrugged and looked at his older brothers. “Thanks, for being so understanding of my situation.”

“You’ll always be our little brother Replacement, no matter what anyone else has to say about the matter.” Jason slipped his arm around Tim’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You can tell us anything.”

“Thanks Jay.”