#Tim said a bunch of mean shit about Jason when he was dead

[oifaaa]

My new theory is that the titans tower fight was actually just a dream Tim had and never actually happened explaining why Jason was so ooc and how he was able to get all the way over to Titans tower when he was meant to be in Gotham

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 7

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“I’m having a child.”

Danny stared at Batman.

“…Uh, congrats?”

Batman whips out a stack of paper and a pen. “It’s you. Sign here and initial the highlighted spots.”

Danny instinctively, from years of dealing with Vlad, whacked the stack right out of Batman’s hands and into the bay. He doesn’t even feel bad about littering this time because, “Begone, fruitloop!”

Wait, no, that’s not what he meant.

“I mean- I have parents!”

“Not for long.” Batman muttered and then did a double take. “You have parents? How?”

Danny gasped, placing a hand on his chest to clutch his metaphorical pearls. He ignored Batman’s mutters. Everyone knows the vigilante has an adoption problem. At least, everyone who lived in Gotham did, as everyone who didn’t was somehow convinced that he “worked alone” or some bullshit like that. “Are you naturally this insensitive or were you dropped on your head as a baby? Obviously I had to come from somewhere.”

“They’re still… alive?”

“And kicking,” Danny said, inching away from yet another rich weird guy trying to adopt him. “Mostly the kicking part, though.” He said, remembering the sparring sessions. His mom could kick his as six ways to Sunday with nothing but jiu-jitsu and still have time to work in the lab.

“I see.”

“I’m charging you extra for the emotional upheaval. I have trauma regarding rich people trying to adopt me.”

Batman sullenly handed over a thousand.

“Sweet. There’s a group of shades down here asking if you could find their murderer. Apparently the serial killer is still at large.” Danny pointed.

“Of course. Tell me everything.”

The adoption papers disappeared as Batman went into detective mode.

Danny shoved the cash into his glowing chest and breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to make rent this month so it was a windfall running into Batman.

——

“Hey, Tim?”

Tim woke up from his Power Nap. “Huh?”

“Phantom’s complaining that Batman kept trying to adopt him.”

Tim blinked. “Uh.. what does that have to do with me?”

Danny stared at him, a patiently amused smile on his face. “Just in case the rumor about the Wayne’s sugar-daddy-into the Bats was a thing. Other than that, we might have to confront Batman to get him off of Phantom’s back. ”

“You… want to confront Batman.”

“Hey, man, Phantom’s a friend and it’s ride or die.” Danny snickered. It was literally die, with his Phantom side of things. He held two fists up, and wound them, like Popeye right after eating spinach or something. “And if Batman bothers Phantom, we ride at dawn.”

“Batman doesn’t come out unless it’s dark, though? Or for the Justice League.” Tim grinned. He mentally classified Danny under his “to go to” list. That’s where Bart, Bernard, Cassie, Kon, and Garfield were. If he starts shit, he could count on them to have his back and cause even more shit. Danny, wanting to fistfight Bruce over the man making Phantom uncomfortable? He absolutely is making that list.

“Then we ride at, like, dusk. Or uh, like 10PM. I gotta get my beauty sleep.”

“You’ll definitely need it,” Tim inconspicuously texted the group chat, which quickly blew up.

“Shut up,” Danny playfully shoved Tim. “Wait, can Batman even legally adopt? Isn’t being a vigilante illegal? And how can he adopt someone dead?”

Tim dramatically flailed and splayed over Danny’s carpeted living room. “Dunno about his identity,” he lied to Danny, like a liar. “But Gotham has a bunch of laws for the undead/restored to life people so there’s probably enough gray space there.”

Danny spluttered. “You guys have undead friendly laws?”

“Yeah, geht do you think Grundy just chills out? Plus, we have like a minor resurrection event every few years. It usually doesn’t stick but sometimes it does. Bruce pushed for those laws when Jason came back to life, except he doesn’t actually want people to know he’s like, alive.”

“Jason died?” Danny blinked. Well, that would explain the vibes. “Huh. So what’s up with his rank vibes then?”

“Rank vibes?” Tim pressed record on his phone.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, you know how Phantom’s got like a really chill green vibe?” Inwardly, Danny snickered at his pun. Chill. Yeah, he meant that very literally. “Jason’s got kind of a rank green vibe. He’s kind of stinky? Definitely never introduce him to Phantom.” Danny’s senses got worse in his ghost form.

“Jason regularly showers, though?!”

“Not smell! Like, a spiritual smell?”

“You can smell souls?!” Tim sat up. “Bro, you’re a meta?!”

“Uh.” Danny hesitated. “Yeah. I can smell souls. It’s a thing. Everyone from my town can do it.”

“What?!” Tim paused. “Wait, can Phantom smell souls?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh, from the same town.”

“Danny, what the fuck?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, you’re the one with a soul-sick brother! Not to mention, you’re kinda stinky too!”

“Hey!”

“Soul-stinky nerd man!”

——

“I stink?!” Jason spluttered out, extremely offended.

“The Lazarus pits. He’s most likely smelling traces of Lazarus pit on you, you imbecile.”

“We need to speak to Phantom. This instant.”

“I dunno, B. Danny sounded like he was gonna break your face if you bothered Phantom anymore.” Dick snickered.

“Yeah,” Tim chimed in, from his seat in front of the Bat-computer. “He was pretty serious.”

“Are we just gonna glaze over the fact that they’re from the same town?!” Stephanie exclaimed, practicing her moves on a training dummy.

“How does that even work? What does that mean? I thought Phantom was an immortal?” Duke asked.

“We also can’t rule out time-travel.” Barbara slammed her baton into a training dummy, twisting her wheelchair in an agile maneuver that left the dummy on the floor.

“No bothering Phantom.” Cass proclaimed.

“That’s quite right. You all have a warm dinner sitting above your cave and should it remain uneaten, I assure you that sherbet Sunday and crêpe Tuesday shall be canceled.” Alfred stepped in. The Bats, threatened, scrambled to ditch their gear and go upstairs.

[rubydubydoo122]

In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)

TRIGGER WARNING -> Child Death, (It's Jason)

If only both Dick and Bruce didn’t have the same idea to shove Jason out of the way from opposite sides. Maybe he would’ve still gotten hit with the device, but at least both of his shoulders wouldn’t have been bruised. They were fighting Black Mask and his posse who  had gotten ahold of a transportation device. And that’s what Jason got hit with. Because certain people (Cough, Batman– past, present and otherwise, Cough) refused to communicate. 

Right. Bearings. Then head back to Gotham. 

Ah shit. Of course he was stranded with Bruce and Dick. Of course.

They need to get back to Gotham. Tim, Damian and Cass were more than capable of taking care of themselves, but after they finish the fight, they’re going to start spiraling. Because Bruce and Dick are gone. 

“Nightwing, Batman, wake up.” He lightly shook their shoulders, while looking around. They were in a warehouse, with a bunch of crates in it. He could hear people walking around, but they were pretty hidden where they were. “We gotta get back to Gotham. They’re all gonna think we’re dead again.” The setup of the wearhouse was eerily familiar. The sooner they got out the better. 

He ducked the twin reflex punches from both of them and gave them a deadpan glare. Not that it could be seen through his helmet. The sentiment still stands.

Bruce grunted, “Status.”

“A little nauseous, but other than that, fine. Hood?”

“Sore shoulders from both of you ramming into me.” He peeked over the crate they were hiding behind–

No. 

His heart crept up into his throat, pulse pounding like a drum in his ears

They can’t be here. How were they here? Now? At this point in time? She couldn’t still be here.

He ducked back down, “Br-atman, We’ve gotta go.” As if on cue, there was a cackle.

Jason didn’t even see the monster, just her . 

Dick set himself in determination, then popped up to get a look himself,  “Besides the Joker it’s just three people. No hostages.”

Jason barely heard what he said. He just had to focus on taking off his jacket without his hands shaking, to hand to Dick. Of all the places to be sent back to, why here?

 He took off his helmet and domino and tore off the Bat on his chest, handing them to Bruce, “STT-1.” Situation time travel- past. Meaning they couldn’t interfere. Which sucks because, ya know, Jason was about to die. 

He turned to Dick, mainly because he didn’t want to see the expression Bruce was making, “You’re off world. You’re also in your deep V-Neck era, so…” he made a zipper motion.

Dick’s face paled in realization, “No.”

“Dick–”

“No! We can’t just let you die.” 

Jason looked to Bruce, because he was certain he was going to say something like ‘We can’t mess with the timeline,’ but Bruce just seemed frozen.

Jesus Christ, why does he have to be the level headed one for his own death. And he was seconds away from a panic attack. “I’ll come back.” Though he could feel his stomach twist. Knowing you’re going to come back doesn’t make watching yourself die any better. “There aren’t any windows and only one door, but they’re gonna be near the door, so I say we go up.” he reached for his grapple.

Bruce rested a hand on his elbow, but before he could say anything, Jason cut him off. “I-I don’t–” His voice cracked, “You don’t want to watch this.” because if he did, if Jason did, he would need at least four to five weeks to recover, and they didn’t have that time. They needed to get back. The longer they stayed, the more ripples they made. He’s watched ‘Back to the Future’ enough times to know that much. 

God he wished Tim was here. He’d at least be better at compartmentalizing this whole situation than anyone here. They were all too emotionally involved. They were all too close to a boy who was about to be dead.

Bruce nodded, like his mind was in another place, but then grabbed his grapple and shot up to the ceiling. 

Jason waited to watch Dick do the same, before following. Bruce was already out of the hole he had made in the roof, but he could hear the door opening below, and clammered after Dick. They had to hurry, because a smaller Jason was about to come in, stage right.

“Mom.” 

Jason grabbed Dick in one hand and Bruce in the other and tugged them down and out of sight.

“Jason?”

He knew the conversation by heart. It’s the lines that repeat over and over and over again in his brain. It’s the sounds he hears when he wakes up from nightmares. Not the sound of a crowbar meeting skin, or the sound of laughter, but the sound of betrayal.

“You’ve got big trouble, mom. I know about it… the Joker… everything.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, mom! Play straight with me! I can help you.”

“Sure, tell me about it.”

Don’t. Don’t, You idiot. Don’t tell her. 

There was the sound of a zipper being undone, “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”“That… That outfit… you’re…” He could feel the hairs on his neck stand up, as his mother put the puzzle pieces together. As she figured a way out for herself. “Come with me.”  

He felt Dick’s grip tighten on his hand, as if holding onto him would stop a 15 year old him from walking into that warehouse. Yet the touch felt miles away. Galaxies, even. 

“Wait! The Joker–”

“Is long gone. There’s nothing to worry about, but I’ve got something to show you.” 

Even in the heat of the desert, Jason felt his blood run cold. There was a static in his ears, and the floor started to spin. He was such a stupid kid. 

God this sucks. He has more trauma than this moment. He’s worked through this trauma. Especially after Damian’s death. So why does it still feel like someone’s pouring acid on a stab wound?

Bruce’s hand slipped out of Jason’s as he bolted back towards the hole in the roof, but Dick grabbed his cape before Bruce could drop in. “Bruce, we can’t–”

“Why not? I can save him this time!”

He could hear them talking about embezzlement below. He could hear the obnoxious laughter as the butt of a pistol hit his face. He could feel skin on skin as the goons three times his size beat him up. 

“Because this Jason needs you more.”

He could feel metal against skin. The numbness of the initial hit, followed by the bone deep pain aching across his entire body. “What hurts more? A” crack,  “or B?” thwack, “Forehand,” pop, “Or Backhand?” There was laughter. Just laughter.

“Jason, you need to breathe.” Bruce’s hand supported his right hand from the bottom, “In…” Bruce gently folded each of Jason’s fingers until his hand was in a fist, “and out…” he traced each finger while unraveling them. “In…” Thumb, pointer, middle, ring, pinky, “and out…” Pinky, ring, middle, pointer, thumb. “In…” fold fold fold fold fold “and out…” open open open open open.

“Jason! You’re still alive!”

Jason shook his head. This is not the time for a panic attack. He could do that later. Preferably in the safety of his own apartment. With no one else around to see it. “We’ve gotta move. The bomb’s gonna go off. Two minutes.”

Dick had that look on his face, but turned towards Bruce “B, which way do you come from?”

He looks out in the distance towards a red truck. Dick started towards the opposite direction, shooting his grapple to slow his fall, but Bruce was still looking at the truck.

Jason gripped Bruce’s elbow and pulled him along in the direction Dick went in, “ Gotta get you outta here .” Below, his younger self was echoing the phrase to Sheila.

Lovely juxtaposition. 

Bruce seemed to snap out of it as they swung down, the only thing pushing them forwards was instinct. There was heat pulsing on the back of his neck as darkness engulfed him. His ears rang as the explosion sounded, sending them tumbling.

A weight was holding him down. He could only see darkness. The smell of smoke was wrapping around his throat like a noose. 

He was dying. 

He was dying again . 

Yet, he wasn’t. He could still breathe. The darkness and weight weren’t suffocating, they were familiar. He didn’t realize he was that acquainted with Death. 

No, wait. He’s not dead. He’s breathing. He’s not choking. His lungs aren’t filled with blood. He’s not dying.

The Darkness unraveled around him, and he felt fingers on his wrist. Then his neck. He was looking at a face. He was looking at Bruce, who was searching him head to toe for any injury “Bruce, I’m ok.” 

His ears were ringing though. He didn’t know if it was the explosion, or the panic attack from earlier, but he wants the ringing to stop. He wants to hear whatever threat might come their way.

He pushed Bruce’s hands away, and went to stand so he could assess their surroundings, but was immediately knocked off balance by Dick fussing over him. He swatted him away, “I’m fine.”

The warehouse wasn’t even close to looking like a warehouse anymore. Of course he’s seen it since he’s died, but freshly exploded the building looked… not promising for anyone who was inside. It wasn’t. Anyone who was inside during the explosion was dead.

“Jason! Where are you!”  

It was Bruce, but it sounded farther away than the Bruce that was right next to him. 

His legs started moving forwards without his permission. Until the smell of smoke was too strong. Until he could feel the heat radiating off the rebar. Until…

Until he saw himself. 

Bloody, bruised, burnt. Facedown, weezing, bent at different angles. At 15 he was smaller than Damian was at 12. 

Jason remembered being all alone in his final moments. Knowing Bruce would come, but he’d be too late. Even though he knew Bruce would be too late, he still hoped. He hoped someone would be there to lay him gently to rest.

He found himself on his knees. Next to the young Robin, brushing hair behind his ear. He heard Robin's breath stutter until another rasp overtook him. Mami used to do it when the days weren’t good, but they weren’t bad. Back when he’d go with her while she’d get her cancer treatments. He’d sit in her lap while she brushed his hair behind his ear, and read to him.

Jason focused on the cross that had spilled out from under his Robin suit. “To heaven's gates we wish to fly, out of this world across the sky; To heaven's gates our souls are seeking; the angel's lyres and voices speaking.” He heard gravel crunching behind him, knowing it was Bruce and Dick he continued “To heaven's gates our lifelong journey; not through these halls atop a gurney.

“To heaven's gates you start to weep; reminded I was never yours to keep. To heaven's gates why mourn with sorrow? Morning shall come, there will be a tomorrow. To heaven's gates I view their glory; glancing behind I close my story.” 

He hears the last exhale, and knows. He can feel it in his soul. He knew when his own time was up. When all he could feel was pain, and then the pain suddenly went away. He knew his time was up. He knew there was nothing he could do. “At heaven's gates I find myself; not bruised, not broken, nor on the shelf. At heaven's gates I hear you cry and remind you: this isn't really goodbye.” He gently tucked the cross back into Robin’s suit, and placed a kiss on his forehead. “May holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life.”

He stood up and turned back to see Dick with tears painting his face, and Bruce who looked shell shocked.

He heard the other Bruce’s footsteps stagger closer, so he dove behind the nearest piece of rubble. 

“Jason?” Bruce reached out for Little Jason’s wrist. For his pulse. “No. No.” Bruce pulled him up, but he was limp in his arms, “Jay? Lad. It’s ok, it’s ok. It’s just me. It’s Bruce. You can stop pretending.” Bruce’s fingers frantically searched little Jay’s neck. Trying to find something that wouldn’t be there “The Joker is gone. You can wake up now.” He cradled him close. Hand supporting his neck like an infant “ Jason, please.” His voice was dangerously wet, “You can’t be gone. You can’t. You can’t. You haven’t finished— you’re not done with— you can’t be done— you have so much more left—” There were shutters throughout Bruce’s body, causing little Jay’s arm to fall out from where he was cradled close. Bruce couldn’t be crying though. Batman couldn’t be crying. Not for him “ Jason… my boy… my son, please. Come back. Come back. I can’t lose you. Please.”

Jason had to turn away. He had to. This wasn’t for him to see. It was for a boy who was now dead.

Everything around them turned too bright. Like they were put into a room where all the walls and the floors were made out of fluorescent lights. Then they were in an alley. A very Gotham looking alley. Covered in snow.

He was regretting giving Dick his jacket, but oh well. 

There was the sound of retching, and when he looked over, Dick was kneeling by a corner of a dumpster, and Bruce had a hand on his back. Except he was staring directly at Jason. 

So, naturally, Jason looked everywhere but Bruce.

Actually, this Alley looked very familiar. It looked a lot like the one he used to squat in when he was freshly homeless. He’s pretty sure if he rounded the dumpster to where Dick and Bruce were, he would find his old shelter of trash bags and cardboard boxes. 

Hold up. 

It’s May in their Gotham. It’s not supposed to be snowing. And they had traveled back. And the super bright light felt the same as the original ray that had sent them back. 

“‘Wing, B–”

“Oh no.” Dick was apparently done throwing up, and was now rustling through the pile, “Kiddo? Can you hear–” There was a sharp inhale, “ Jason?”

“Dick,” He grabbed his elbow to stop him from engulfing his younger self in a hug for warmth. “Dick we’ve gotta go.”

He ripped his arm from Jason’s grasp, and leveled him with an incredulous look, “You’re going to freeze to death.”

Bruce and Dick already somewhat knew. They had assumed, which was rude, because you don’t assume something like that about someone. Besides, he did it because he had to do it. Otherwise he would have frozen to death. And it was only for this winter. He was hiding out in an abandoned apartment building for the rest of the time he was ‘homeless’. “Some…someone comes by.” He shivered and crossed his arms to retain warmth. He hates the cold.

If Dick or Bruce said anything, Jason couldn’t hear them. His ears were still ringing from the blast for some reason.

He shook his head and looked to Bruce for a plan. Except Bruce was still looking at him like he was a ghost. 

Maybe Jason should also be a little shell shocked, but honestly, he could never forget that day. If he’s left alone to think long enough, it’s the only thing he can think of. How he shouldn’t have gone after his Mother. How he shouldn’t have trusted her word. How he shouldn’t have allowed himself to hope that there was someone who would give him unconditional love.

Even Bruce’s love was probably conditional to an extent. He loved Robin, not Jason. And the mission would always come first. Batman would always come first.

Obviously, currently, Batman wasn’t in control, Bruce was trying to grab for the steering wheel, because he was obviously debating actually talking about emotions or repressing them forever and ever and ever. 

Jason groaned, they need a plan of action, “Looks like we keep going further and further into the p-past.” His teeth chattered “I want my Jacket back. You two need civies. T-there’s a Goodwill down the block.” 

Dick unzipped the jacket and handed it to Jason, while slipping under Batman’s cape. 

“Go up, I’ll meet you two on the third story. We were in the other time for like… two hours right? A bit more than that?” It was weird to think how long the Joker took to beat the living shit out of him. It somehow felt simultaneously like seconds and years.

Dick nodded, and reached to his ear, “but switch to line two. Just in case”

Jason reached up to his com to do that, “Can’t believe Mr. Paranoid still uses the same frequency from over 10 years ago.”

Dick snorted, “Not gonna defend yourself, B?”

Bruce just looked at Jason, long and thoughtful. He needed to stop staring. Yes, Jason understood that he was Bruce’s biggest failure. No need to stare at him until he explodes for it.

Yeah, no. This was getting awkward, “I’m gonna–”

“Why didn’t you tell me Sheila betrayed you?” 

Jason felt his eyebrows shoot off of his forehead and into the sun. Bruce? Trying to fix preconceived notions and willingly opening up for a conversation that would definitely involve emotions? 

Jason almost said, Because I was dead , but he didn’t. They just watched him die again, saying that would be cruel, and he needed Bruce to get his head back in the game instead of staring at him like he was about to turn into an apparition.  

Master at compartmentalization my ass . “Can we have this conversation at a different time? Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

And with that, he left for the thrift store.

There was a bitter sense of nostalgia. This was his Gotham. The Gotham he knew before he died. The skyline, the corner stores, the types of small crime that’s still around, but overshadowed by the growing number of crazies in Gotham.

There were even people he remembered who had died years ago. People he couldn’t say goodbye to because he himself had died. 

Right. Clothes.

He was really tempted to get Bruce a Batman shirt for shits and giggles, but who knew how far back they’d go before they managed to get back to their time. So he chose something relatively timeless for both Bruce and Dick. T-shirt, jeans, jacket. No designs that would date them. Also a duffle bag to keep their suits in.

He was just around the corner when Dick spoke into the com.

“Jason, someone’s coming into the alley.”

Now Jason wanted to throw up. He had to close his eyes and tell himself that there were no hands grabbing at him or his clothes. There was not one forcing him to do anything. “Does he have red hair? Balding with a horrible comb over?”

“Yeah.” A beat of silence, “I hate not doing anything. First with the Joker and now with… wait. He’s leaving.”

Jason almost tripped over his boots, but then picked up his pace. “What?”

“He definitely saw you– the younger you. He walked up to you, looked like he was debating something and then walked away.”

He can’t be. In a messed up way, the man saved him. If the man didn’t pimp him out, he would’ve froze to death. He would’ve never fought as hard as he did to find real shelter. He would’ve never lived long enough to meet Bruce. 

Jason rounded the corner into the alley. The man was long gone. Just… leaving little Jason to die.

He knelt next to himself. God, this version of him was even smaller than the one before. If he didn’t know he was supposed to be 10, he would think this kid was eight. His cheeks were sunken from the lack of food, and his face was pale, edging on blue. Hypothermia. Maybe even frostbite at this point.

“Jay, you gotta wake up. It’s too cold for you to fall asleep.” He placed a finger to his neck. 

Ice cold, and pulse too slow, but he cradled himself close, hoping he could will heat back into him. He doesn’t die here. Why is this version of him dying?

Jason placed a hand at the base of his skull, and rubbed circles into his back with the other. He doesn’t remember who used to do that with him, Papi or Bruce, he just remembers nights in the League when all he wanted was that feeling again.

Though, Bruce was holding his dead body like this, so maybe it was him.

He felt his younger counterpart shift the slightest bit in his arms, “ Papi? ” it was barely above a whisper.

Jason knew he looked a lot like him, the only thing that differentiated them from each other was his eyes, and the vitiligo. “ Mi alma.”   My soul . Ironic. God, Papi hasn’t called him that since he was seven. He’d come into their apartment after work– and not the job with Two-Face, his job before that– and be happy to see both him and Mami.

Little Jay gave him a tired smile, that somehow still held the power of the sun. “You came.” Had he always smiled that bright? Even after the streets had hardened him? 

“You needed me.” And he did, but Papi would also be dead with time. 

“‘M tired.” Little Jason wasn’t even shivering. He didn’t even have enough energy to do that. Meaning that, trying to warm him up would be a waste of time. 

“Do… Do you want to rest?” He wasn’t supposed to die here. Yet, he won’t make it. This… this doesn’t make any sense.

Little Jay gave him one slow nod, as he tucked his face into Jason’s chest.

“Alright… Alright. I’ll tell you a story, then. I know you love them.” He took a breath. He couldn’t tell him the poem he had told the 15 year old him. He knew more than one though. “ Two roads diverged in a yellow wood; And sorry I could not travel both; And be one traveler, long I stood, And looked down one as far as I could; To where it bent in the undergrowth.

“Then took the other, as just as fair; And having perhaps the better claim; Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there; Had worn them really about the same,

“And both that morning equally lay; In leaves no step had trodden black; Oh, I kept the first for another day; Yet knowing how way leads on to way; I doubted if I should ever come back.

“I shall be telling this with a sigh; Somewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—” He could feel the last of life simmer out. Like someone had placed a lid on top of a candle. “I took the one less traveled by; And that has made all the difference. ” He placed a kiss into Little Jay's forehead and cleared his throat, “May holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life.”

Bruce and Dick climbed down from the fire escape. 

Neither of them said anything for a moment, until Bruce spoke up, “Not time travel. Alternate Realities.”

It was like saying the words spurred up the bright lights around them. 

This is going to be worse than that time with Rayner.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

"you were missed, you know.” the voice is light, balancing on the edge of airy like a coin on its rim, in a way only careful practice yielded. so jason whirls around, faster than he normally would in a neatly-pressed suit and loose dress shoes. 

there’s a woman, close cropped red hair swinging into her face and pulling at the corners of her mouth until her expression is as severe as her form. there’s a scar on her jaw and, oh, the memory tumbles into his head as if pushed. kate kane, proof that vigilantism is genetic, once tugged jason into into her side and pulled him away from a particularly leering investor at function. the bite of her nails on his skin was a thousand times sweeter than the man’s smile.

she smirks. “hi.”

“haven’t seen you in a while,” jason responds, attempting casual and instead tripping, falling into his crime lord persona, since he doesn’t know how else to interact with people when he’s jason peter todd-wayne. 

“not since you died,” kate remarks and damn, right for the gullet. “you’ve grown up.”

jason shrugs, suddenly feeling thirteen years old again, suddenly feeling all of four feet, eight inches in the face of her candidness. “time’s funny like that.”

she eyes him carefully, trying to fish for the truth in what she believes is a lie wrapped in a careful quip. jason doesn’t blame her: he’s cultivated quite a reputation for himself. but he stripped the sarcasm from his words before he spoke them, and their rawness is shrouded in the bubbling champagne and crystal chandelier around them, but it’s no less present for anyone who knows how to peel the veil back.

“you were missed,” she repeats, satisfied with his answer. “not sure anyone’s told you that since you’ve come back. your family’s a stubborn bunch. i just wanted to make sure.”

“make sure i knew i was missed?” jason clarifies, feeling a little foolish, because dick wouldn’t beg to save his life but there were a few times that his words came close to pleas, and tim had made it clear how much he’d upheld the pedestal he’d put jason on, and alfred had actually told him that to his face. 

but this was the first time he found himself truly believing those familiar words. he hadn’t known kate, not at all. and yet, she nodded, clapped him on the shoulder once, twice, then left, completely unaware of the pit of resentment she’d carved out of jason’s stomach and thrown on the ground until jason felt like he’d slip on it if he moved, if he breathed.

she didn’t look back, but jason’s eyes didn’t stop following her until she was out of sight.

*

"you were missed, you know.” jason doesn’t startle, his training is etched into every scar decorating his skin, and there are times that he grips and holds onto those scars like a lifeline. he’s far too practiced to flinch, but he’d be lying to himself if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

he forgave himself in the next second, though. cassandra cain could make men much more experienced than him recoil. she appeared soundlessly, and folded down beside him with a grace that jason hadn’t seen anywhere outside his family. the amount of space she left between them, the relaxed posture that left visible tension cording through her arms like pulling steel taffy, the tilt to her body that made jason automatically want to open his mouth and let his tumultuous thoughts come out as an oil spill: right now, cass had dick grayson’s brushtrokes all over her.

“dick put you up to this?” 

cass shook her head, then bit her lip in a considering movement. jason wondered if he’d practiced, because bruce had long since broken that dangerous habit out of his children. 

“i am still working on comfort. assurance,”  she said, rifling through the words like flash cards, picking the most accurate ones. “i thought i’d practice.”

“oh? and why exactly do you think i need comfort.”

“i overheard your argument,” she admitted, “with bruce.”

“i didn’t think anyone was there.”

“i didn’t mean to,” she said. “sorry. but i heard what you said.”

jason scoffed. “prove me wrong. one step forward, two steps back with that dense motherfucker.”

“sign of protection,” cass said. “not distrust.”

out of everyone to say that to him, cass was probably the least likely. jason had thought she, of all people, would be on his side after he found the microchip in his helmet. she, of all people, would value independence after being owned for so long.

“by the time he found you, you were dead. and he missed you more than anything. he will never let that happen again.”

“oh yeah? privacy mean nothing to him? i know he’s crazy about this stuff but come on. there’s a limit.”

“you are not relying on him because of this.” cass stood up, stretching her back, though jason was sure she really didn’t have to. “he is relying on you. let him.”

*

“you were missed, you know.” 

“what, speaking from personal experience? i ain’t you, west.” jason could feel the gentle thrum of electricity behind him, making his hair stand on edge. two steps backward, and he’d be pulled into that void, that black hole of energy, that swirling vortex of pure power condensed into something human-shaped.

except he wouldn’t. it was just wally. just dick’s best friend joining him outside on the balcony. jason didn’t know how dick and tim could stand to be around speedsters willingly, for fun.

“i mean, sort of,” wally shrugged. “but me and you had very different experiences.”

“yeah, west, i’m not sure who else has been stuck in the fucking speedforce.”

wally snorted, an if only you knew hidden in plain sight. jason decided he really didn’t want to know. “i mean there’s that,” the speedster concedes, “but also, everyone forgot i existed. that didn’t happen with you.”

“you sure about that?” 

“hey,” wally eyed him, his eyes suddenly sharp. “don’t start that shit. i was erased from the memories of everyone i loved. you did nothing but stay in the memories of your family.”

“now i know we’re talking about two different things.”

“jason,” wally sighed, and the sheer exasperation pouring off him made jason want curl his fingers, bring them up for a swing, taste the bite of pain that would prick at his knuckles, nevermind the fact that wally would dodge anyway. “don’t do that.”

he turned to face the speedster, arms crossed deliberately over his chest. “where the hell do you get off acting like dick?”

“you’re more like dick than you realize,” wally said, “and i spent half my childhood dealing with his moods. actually, i still do.”

“do you have a point?” jason snapped, starting to get irritated. he wasn’t sure why. he’d spent his entire life one one end of a scale, dick grayson on the other. he’d always tipped his end down. this was the first time someone was telling him the scale was even.

“just because your family didn’t mourn the way you wanted them to,” wally said, “doesn’t mean they didn’t mourn you.”

“fuck you.”

“they loved you. and they missed you,” wally continues, steamrolling right over jason in a way most speedsters were prone to do. “there’s no minimum requirement for loss. no ‘if you didn’t do this, then you didn’t grieve me.’ that’s not even a situation, ever.”

“so that makes everything bruce did okay?” jason sputtered

“not at all. god knows i disagree with bruce on more things than i tolerate. but this is one thing you can’t fault him on.”

it wasn’t that easy, though. jason wanted to scream it at wally’s face, it wasn’t that easy. it wasn’t about whether bruce loved him enough,,,,except maybe it was. jason wanted bruce to have loved him enough to make a difference in gotham. jason wanted bruce to have missed him enough to change things, because change meant that bruce had been so hurt by his death that he refused to let it happen to anyone else again.

bruce had made a vow after his parents died. the fifteen year old inside jason was begging bruce why he hadn’t been afforded the same devotion. jason was his son.

“just something to think about,” wally said, then stepped backward, making to go inside where dick was calling him. “you were afforded the luxury of coming back with a place left empty in your family for you. you didn’t have to make it, like i did.”

“being dead, then coming back wrong isn’t a fucking luxury,” jason snarled.

with a shrug, wally turned, a little faster than the average human, lightning sparking at his heels as he left jason alone on the balcony. “depends on your definition of wrong.”

jason get therapy. please. also happy deathday

honestly i couldn’t decide whose side of the argument i was on, jason’s or wally’s.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption

[acceptsonlynttnightwing]

I dont think Jason would want to be a Brucie Wayne. But he is alive again in comics and the public knows. Also he doesnt actually have a hair trigger temper. Dick is actually the one you could say had that problem at one point. Nor is the character unstable nowadays. Plus Jason did run a casino publically for a bit. Combine that with the fact that several drug dealers were able to successfully lead companies because of the skills they gained as criminals and many major companies have people read books about crime industries to learn to think outside the box and there is evidence to suggest Jason could be a sneaky heir in his own right.

—-

What is it with people sending submissions instead of asks? :’(

1. I completely agree that Jason would hate to be a Brucie Wayne, which is why I never said he wanted that. The post was focusing more on Dick, which is why I didn’t write about Jason’s feelings on it.

2. Oh shit, I forget about the penguin fiasco. My bad - I’ll change the original post. Thanks for reminding me!

3. Actually Dick’s never had ‘anger issues’ - most of it is vastly exaggerated by fandom with a few cherry picked events (without context) from an over 80 year history. If you’re actually interested, read a few of @bigskydreaming​ ‘s posts about it (I forgot the specific one I read addressing this, so it would be great if you could post the link here?). Sure, he’s fought with Roy a couple of times, but that’s largely it - if fighting with Bruce a couple of times was considered proof of anger problems, even SUPERMAN would be considered a maniac. 

4. I mean, I’d say assuming a new Robin meant you were being replaced and had never been loved (when YOU yourself had replaced the original robin) and then nearly killing said 14/15 year old CHILD isn’t what I’d call stable. Neither is   killing nearly killing Tim, Damian AND Dick multiple times during the DickBats era? Murdering dozens of petty criminals dressed up as your brother and grinning about said brother’s city blowing up (killing millions and possibly him) doesn’t read as particularly stable either.

Neither does punching said brother for the crime of pretending to be dead after being publicly tortured and unmasked to go undercover and save a bunch of heroes (including you and the rest of the family) when you did the same thing for far less nobel reasons?

Also, before you point to his resurrection, Lazarus pit madness isn’t an actual thing; Jason just has anger issue. Dinah, Ollie, Cass and even Ra’s have been resurrected through it and they were all perfectly fine. Jason has anger management problems - it’s a part of his characterisation (except for the four years he was robin) - and while he’s gotten better, it still resurfaces. Being CEO with issues like that wouldn’t work, especially given that Bruce’s main job was supposed to be smiling for the cameras and other rich people and signing Lucius Fox’s checks.

So, given how the majority of Jason’s characterisation has shown him, I don’t think I’m wrong. Also, no offence, but Jason hasn’t had an active title in more than a year (I pretend Seeley’s Robins isn’t a thing), so there aren’t really many opportunities he could have lost his temper lately. Especially since the reboots basically turned him into an angrier Dick Grayson and watered down his character into a mindless yes-bat (also, the reboot erased his crime empire but kept Battle for the Cowl, go figure). Like, Jason had a personality and genuinely thought he was doing what was right. Sure, he was emotionally clouded and made mistakes, but the heart of the matter was that he was willing to get his hands dirty to fix things, and I think they could have done really cool stuff with Jason if they’d kept to that instead. 

5. I mean, sure, a few drug dealers have become successful businessmen, but a few people from basically EVERY profession have, so that’s not saying much. Models, professors, yoga teachers, the list goes on. Personally, I see Jason as largely good hearted, but as lacking the social skills - and being incapable of keeping up the pretence - to run Wayne enterprises. Dick, on the other hand, as actually been shown replacing Bruce and doing a good job of it (even despite Morrison’s casual racism).

Also, Jason ran a casino and a crime empire for a bit versus Dick’s ran the Titans (and the financials and branding and logistics) for years and headed the Outsiders, was a museum curator, graduated and has a law degree (something that would matter to the board of directors) and took over for Bruce as head of WE for a couple of years. I think the better choice is clear. And Bruce clearly doesn’t trust Jason enough to make him heir. 

Technically, anyone could be anything, but I don’t think there’s sufficient evidence to argue that Jason would be a good head of WE. 

[stressedoutcanary]

Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 2]

WORD COUNT :- 2.3k

Warnings ⚠️: I don't even know if there are any...Swearing maybe?, mentions of kidnappings, actual kidnapping oh and also violence and angst :)

A/N 😋: I got lost while writing this so judge accordingly people. Also forgive me for any mistakes. I TRIED.

Part 1 , Part 3

•°•°•°•°

“JASON STOP!!!!!”, your voice echoed in the silent warehouse.

Jason stopped in his tracks as soon as he heard your voice, his mind was brimming with thoughts, questions and worst of all, emotions.

“Well, well, well, look who crawled out of her little cave”, He said smugly as he finally turned around to face you. The voice was his, you’d recognize that voice anywhere but it felt cold, devoid of emotions, hearing him like that sent a shiver up your spine. You could feel your determination slipping.

Even though you had your cowl on, Jason could still see how much his rampage was hurting you but he couldn’t stop now, not when all he had left to do was to capture Joker, beat the living shit out of that asshole and show Bruce how much of a failure Batman’s moral compass really is.

“Well? Got nothing to say now?... Why am I not surprised?”, Jason scoffed.

You took a deep breath, you were breaking down inside but you sure as hell weren’t going to let that stop you. You spoke, voice barely above a whisper,  “Jason...Jay...Stop all this...Please, come home, come back to the--”

“Manor? Home? Did you hit your head (Y/N)? Why in the hell would I ever go back to a place where NOBODY GAVE A DAMN ABOUT ME, WHERE HE REPLACED ME AS IF I MEANT NOTHING?!”, Jason didn’t want to lose control of himself, not in front of you. So with visible effort he calmed himself down, took a step forward and gave you a deadpan look.

“You all left me”

Your blood boiled at that statement.

“How dare you?! We lost you! We mourned for you! I mourned for you!”

Tears welled up in your eyes, listening to him you wondered whether he truly believed the words actually coming out of his own mouth.

“The Jason I knew was a roughed up street boy who still cared when many didn't, who called Bruce out every step of the way, who had this ridiculous favoritism for bread, who had the guts to take out a tire from the fricking Batmobile”, despite the dreadful situation you smiled remembering those sweet memories.

You looked him in the eye, pleading in a way, and you spoke softly, “The Jason I knew was The Robin to my Batgirl. This-this is just not who you are Jay, not really...So can you just stop?”

He looked unfazed by your words and cocked his head to the side.

“Princess, the only way you can stop me is if you fight me, knock me down real hard, make sure that I won't get back up again. Tell me Batgirl, can you do it? Do you actually have what it takes?”, he waited for an answer he knew wasn’t coming. As expected, all he was met with was silence.

Long, Painful Silence.

With that Jason knew what he had to do, he put on his red helmet and swung out of the nearest window, you couldn't stop him, for all your big talk, you just couldn't. He was right you failed him.

•°•°

You jumped awake with a start, bolting upright and immediately regretting your subconscious decision, the throbbing pain made you clutch the back of your head with your palm and you closed your eyes again to achieve some semblance of reality as a way of grounding yourself.

‘It was just a dream (Y/N)…just...a...dream’

You tried to lie to yourself knowing deep down that it was a memory, something you have already lived through, something you regret everyday. You swallowed the lump in your throat. It felt dry and your whole body was sore. You really should've called in early and then maybe Dick would've been the one stuck in this crapy situation and not you.

Pushing past your perplexed state you got up and took in your surroundings, there were vines hanging from the open roof, a LOT of flowers and some Venus flytraps by the corner. It wouldn’t even take being a detective to figure out where you were; The Botanical Gardens.

“How the hell did I end up here”, you muttered under your breath. This was getting out of hands.

“See Pammy I told ya Girl-Bat would rise and shine by now”

“I can see that Harls”

‘Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, just great, is nobody in Arkham these days’

The duo descended down from the open roof through one of the vines and stood in front of you. Harley looked as happy as a 10 year old about to get their favorite toy and Ivy seemed to be interested in anything and everything that did not concern you. Classic.

“Why the hell did you both kidnap me?”

You jumped forward and grabbed Harley by the collar of her dress, in retrospect it wasn't the best move but it's not like you were thinking straight at the time anyway.

A vine wrapped itself around your waist and you were tugged back by such force that you were sure there was gonna be a big bruise there tomorrow. You skidded across the floor and finally stopped when your back connected with a bench. You were just too drained to fight back so instead you just crawled up and sat on the bench with a grunt.

‘Not fighting my way out of this one so for once let’s try talking’

“Whoa, should ya really be this obnoxious when ya got a concussion?”, Harley burst your thought bubble as she looked you over.

“Wait, Did you just call me obnoxious?!”

“But don'tcha worry I am a doctor and I got a PhD”

“In psychology!”

“I will fix ya in no time”

“Are you even listening to me?”

Just like that you saw Harley leave the room to go get some medical supplies, or well at least you thought that that's what she was going to do, you turned your face towards Ivy hoping that she can fill in the blanks.

“So you both finally done babbling? And here I thought it was never going to end.”, She looked at you from where she was petting her plant, and made her way over to you, something about her seemed genuine. You got the feeling that whatever she had to say, it won't be a lie.

“Try and not mind what Harley does, she's just happy to make new friends for girls night.” She sighed before continuing, “As for your question, last night we were near the Gotham Central Park when we saw a masked man dragging your unconscious body out of a building and into a van parked in the alley, so we kil-- we took care of him and brought you here”, She shrugged as if that explains why the Poison Ivy just saved your life.

"Wait that means Red isn't here", you whispered more to yourself than to others.

“Pam is Red!”, Harley said cheerfully as she came back out nowhere with a bunch of boxes which would've made you very uneasy if your mind wasn't already preoccupied.

“What Harley means to say is that if you are trying to ask about that gun loving leather jacket vigilante who wears a red helmet, then no we don't know where he is”

Her words sunk in and yesterday's memories flashed in your mind, your eyes widened under your mask as the realization hit you like a bus.

The missing people, the creepy mannequins, the medical journals regarding surgeries, the weirdo in the white mask instead of a face, the poster of some Pretty Dolls parlor; Now it all makes sense!

“Pyg!”

"Huh?", the women in front of you almost jumped at your sudden revelation.

“Lazlo Valentin aka Professor Pyg that's the son of a bitch who is behind all this mess, he's the one who has got Red Hood And it's all my fault! Now, He might be dead already! I should've known, I-I should've figured it out quicker, I should've done something, DAMN IT!!”, you buried you face in your hands due to the building frustration within you.

“Don't be like that”, you heard Harley's voice as a hand was placed on your shoulder, she sat down on the bench next to you, you turned your head and eyed her warily, seeing nothing but concern.

“Don't give up. Clearly this Hoodie person means a lot to ya so you get off your ass and go get him, don't you Bat People always find a way”, you looked at her for a moment, then jumped up on your feet.

“Can't believe I am saying this but you are right Harley, I need go and I will find a way to save him, but before leaving I wanna know something”, you looked Ivy in the eyes as you worded your next sentence, “Why save me?”

“It was just my way of replaying you for saving Harls from that clown once”, instead of elaborating Ivy just crossed her hands over her chest waiting for you to leave. You gave her a warm smile, something they are not used to seeing, from a bat of all people.

“Thank you Pamela”

With that you were out of that detour and onto finding the path leading up to Jason.

•°•°

Somehow you reached the safe house without running into some kind of trouble, with how your day has been going, you were completely expecting something else to go wrong. Thankfully it didn't. You took out a spare comms unit, keys for your bike and some aspirin to dull the headache.

Soon you were whizzing past vehicles at full speed triying to contact anyone available at the moment.

“Come on pick up, pick up, pick up! What's the meaning of giving us an emergency button when no one picks the damn thing up”, you spoke into a dead line, wishing you could just bang your head against a wall, on second thought not a good idea.

Two minutes later the call was finally picked up and a screen appeared on the dash of your bike, it was from the batcave and you could see Dick, Damian and Bruce in sitting in front of the computer, Tim was connected from what you assumed to be the titans tower. However Dick was the first one to pop the question.

“(Y/N) what's the emergency? Are you okay? We haven't heard from you since last night”

“Look no time to explain. Jason's been taken by Pyg and I need you guys to give me a location. Now”, you said gritting your teeth as you narrowly missed a truck for the second time this evening.

“Todd's captured? *tt* his incompetence precedes that of Drake”, Damian's snarky remark made Tim snap his head up.

“Hey!”

“Boys”, Bruce's stern voice made them quiet enough for the time being, “Batgirl you are injured and your emotions can compromise the whole rescue, go back to the safe house and let us handle this”, Bruce ended the transmission and it made you angry.

'He said that they are going to handle it, that means they know where he is, so now all I have to do is to get Dick to spill it out'

You dialed Dick back, hoping he would understand what you are trying to do.

“I know why you specifically choose to call me back and No I am not letting you go head first into danger without any of us with you especially when you are compromised”, Dick's tone was stern but laced with concern.

“Dick the last time Bruce said he will handle it, Jason died, look I know what he is trying to say, I get him, I can't blame him for wanting to look after me but you have to understand I have to be the one to get him back”

“Why?!”

“Because I can't lose him again! The last thing that I said to him was that I might never forgive him! Never forgive him for something that's not even his fault! You are my only hope at getting him back, please don't take that away from me, please”, you pleaded with him as you slowed down the bike to a stop.

The line was silent for a while, the thought about saying more to him crossed your mind; what you are feeling about Jason, how much he matters to you, how you've failed him more than once, but ultimately decided against it and instead you just waited for his reply.

You deflated as soon as you realized that the line was cut but the ping of a notification caught your attention; The map to the possible location of Jason.

“Dick Grayson, you big softie”, you smirked, your bike roared as you made your way on to the free way heading fast towards the Gotham outskirts.

Meanwhile at Professor Pyg's 'supervillain headquarters' :

Jason slowly woke up, assessing the situation he quickly came to the conclusion that he messed up and now he is tied up to what seems like dentist's chair.

“Great, there has got to be a new record I've set in this family for messing up and getting kidnapped”, Jason muttered under his breath, he tried to tug at his restraints to get free but it turned out to be fruitless. A blinding light was switch on above him and he grunted due to the intensity.

“Man, what is up with you people and light?! Turn it off already!”, Jason said as he tried to adjust his eyes accordingly, when he came to, he was met with his captor himself.

Jason just stared at the man in front, moving towards him, wearing a pig mask and holding a butcher knife. He has seen enough crazy but this guy might just rival the Joker himself.

“Pyg know you broken. Pyg make you perfect”

“WHAT THE F--”

°•°•°•°•

(I like to think I am funny)

Cute little extra note: Yes it is the second time I'm leaving you guys hanging and NOPE I do not regret my decision.

Tagging: @ladyperceval

[another-cancer]

Day 9, July 15th Pixie

“Pixie is it? That’s what the media has been calling you,” he said in his twisted voice.

She growled, “One person is allowed to call me that and you sure as hell ain’t him.”

Look I am back! Hopefully with semi-regular updates as I try to finish this.

///

She had been having a bad day. An unlucky one above anything else. Marinette still carried luck from her days as Ladybug. But luck runs out. Especially when the old Ladybug holder had been spending so much time with a current Black Cat holder.

The bad day started with a coffee malfunction, her coffee machine broke. So she went to her favorite cafe. They were closed due to a break in the night before. She ended up giving up on coffee. Instead, she opted to visit work.

While Marinette mainly worked from home, she did officially have an office at Wayne Enterprises where she oversaw the JTodd fashion company, her mini-empire that continued to be commission only after all the years. Named after Jason Todd. MDC had died when Ladybug did when the original Marinette Dupain-Cheng passed. Now, this version of Marinette headed an up-and-coming fashion empire, overseen by WE.

However, while she was making her way to the office building, faith proved to have other plans for her. A kidnapping. By the one and only Joker. Fuck.

///

“Pixie is it? That’s what the media has been calling you,” he said in his twisted voice.

She growled, “One person is allowed to call me that and you sure as hell ain’t him.”

Her arms were tied back above her head as a bomb sat in the middle of the room equal distance from her and the Joker.

“Well, sweetheart that other person isn’t here are they?”

Knowing the answer she looked around the room, they were alone. Jason was nowhere to be seen. She was alone. She blacked out.

///

Blink. Blink.

“Looky here, it looks like the doll is finally awake again,” Joker said to an empty room.

She was tired, from just hanging there. She wondered why she wasn’t dead yet. Why was he keeping her alive?

“Oh no you look a bit sleepy again, what a shame,” he said as she drifted back out of consciousness.

///

Loud. Pain. Needle? Blood. Dark. Quiet. Sleep.

How long had it been?

///

Fifteen hours. She hadn’t been seen for fifteen hours. She was kidnapped. And he was terrified. Marinette always texted or called, she checked in constantly. At hour three he considered it a fluke, at hour five he questioned Adrien, at hour six he searched Wayne Enterprise, at hour eight he started searching the city.

“You need rest,” B told him.

“No, I need to find her!”

“Jay we are going to find her, I promise, but right now you look like Tim, you’ve been out here too long,” Dick joked.

“How the fuck are you joking at a time like this?”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood a bit.”

“Fuck that shit, Marinette has been missing for fifteen hours, we don’t know who the fuck has her or where the fuck she is,” Jason was steaming.

///

Marinette vomited. What the fuck was going on? Cameras. The Joker was no longer with her. It was just the bomb and her. And now a camera, a camera with a blinking light. She was being recorded, probably live-streamed knowing Joker’s flair for the dramatics.

He was going to find her. Barbara could help. She would be okay.

“Jay,” she whispered, staring into the camera, “Jay.”

She repeated it over and over until she couldn’t. She said it until she couldn’t speak.

‘I love you,’ she mouthed.

He would never get it. He wasn’t able to read lips.

///

“What do you mean you can’t trace it?” Jason demanded to know.

Barbara said, “It’s bouncing off too many towers, I can’t find an exact location.”

“What if they’re moving?” Tim suggested.

“What?” Jason asked, refocusing his attention.

“Look in the video Mari is swinging back and forth, and she threw up, she gets motion sickness. That would explain why the signal is bouncing off a bunch of towers.”

“You’re right, that would explain it, but it would need to be something big. Like a truck. I’ll start looking,” she turned back to the screen.

Tim continued analyzing the video footage looking for clues. Perhaps trying to figure out what Marinette had mouthed. And Jason. Jason felt useless. All he could do was wait for an answer. Wait for a location. Tim had the video muted so Jason didn’t have to listen to her repeating his name. So he didn’t have to listen to her suffer.

///

Someone had apparently given Bruce the news of a breakthrough. He was back in the cave with Damian and Dick. Jason thought it was stupid that no one was out looking for her. But what did he know? He needed to take a fucking break. Bullshit. Everyone standing in the cave without Marinette felt empty as they filled Bruce in.

“What happens when we find her?” Damian asked.

“We rescue her,” Jason stated as the most obvious thing in the world.

“No Damian has a point, there is a bomb. If we do anything too dramatic it will blow. A truck that size has a large gas tank, that could take out half a city block. We need to lure the truck out of the city somehow,” Dick suggested.

“Do you know how long it has been?” Jason quietly asked.

“What?” Bruce prompted.

Speaking louder he repeated, “Do you know how long it has been?”

Everyone stared blankly.

“Twenty-Three hours. She’s been missing for twenty-three hours. She has been throwing up on live television for the last six hours. I haven’t seen her in over twenty-six hours. We need to rescue her as soon as possible.”

“We understand, but we need to protect the city. We can’t let that truck blow,” Dick reasoned.

“Fuck the city. This is Marinette we’re talking about.”

“Jay, we can’t just-”

“You don’t understand, I- We- She-” Jason couldn’t find the words, “She’s important.”

“We know she’s family.”

“She’s more than that. I need to save her.”

He loved her.

///

She couldn’t open her eyes. They were too heavy.

Everything hurt.

Where was Jason?

///

He stopped every truck he came across. But he didn’t need to stop the one in front of him to know.

She was there. He could feel it.

It calmed him, around her aura he was more rational.

///

An explosion shook the whole city.

Her body was in his arms.

She had no pulse.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he let her go to perform CPR.

As he attempted to bring life back to her he repeated, ‘I love you,’ over and over.

And then a pulse.

She was still alive.

She had a chance.

Red Hood checked Pixie Todd into the hospital ten minutes later.

///

Jason came rushing into the hospital five minutes later.

“I’m here to see Pixie Todd,” he demanded.

“Mr. Wayne, she is in surgery, when she is out it will be family only until she awakes.”

“We have the same last name.”

“While I won’t question how you know what name she was checked in under, I will say you yourself have confirmed to the media, you aren’t related to the girl. I’m sorry, we understand she is your friend, but you won’t be able to see her until she’s awake.”

“We got married, '' he blurted out, “last year we didn’t want the media to know. I just want to see my wife when she gets out.”

He lied effortlessly.

“Oh, I’m sorry I assumed-”

“It’s okay, I just would like an update on her condition.”

“Of course, I can go get her surgeon.”

“Hey, can you not tell anyone about the marriage?”

“Of course Mr. Wayne.”

She was going to be okay.

Masterlist AO3

First Previous Next

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Braaaaaaains...

Jason Todd is legally – and biologically – dead. His family noted his lack of pulse at three in the morning, inside the cave, his body laid out on a table with medical instruments.

No, really, tell him something he doesn't know.

What else crawls out of a grave moaning and groaning?

Or, Jason thought his family full of the world's greatest detectives was smarter than this. Apparently not.

****************************************************************

It had been an ordinary night. Calm. The stage for very little costumed crime and barely more regular, non-insane crime as well. Half the menagerie that made up Dick's loving ragtag bunch of younger siblings had even taken the night off.

Nothing should have make him arrive to silence this thick, to this faint echo of sniffling.

He sprinted after the noise.

Damian's fine, left before me. Duke didn't go out, nor did Steph. Babs spent the evening with Cass in the cave, Tim swept the bowery and said he was going to stop by Jason's place to-

He collided with a shaking, tear stained Tim right outside the medbay.

There was a body on the closest table. Others around it, crying, pacing, muttering in denial.

Dick couldn't look.

No, no, please, please no. I can't do that again. I can't!

Scarred skin, too pale – to be Duke or Cass – by death. His breath hitched. No. He. Fuck.

He knew those scars. Those arms. That chest and that fucking Y from navel to shoulders.

“Dick! Jason... he was...  I found him in his apartment. And I brought him to the cave... but... Jason doesn't have a pulse. He's... cold...”

Dick stumbled.

No.

No, no, no, that... that couldn't be real.

He caught himself on his little brother. Brought himself into a hug too tight, as painful as the arms gripping his ribs and back. A grip meant for a lifesaving light at sea. For a safeline over a ravine.

Twice. He'd lost the same brother twice. And this time, he didn't even have the excuse of inexperience and unstable situations. He... he patrolled the city whilst his brother was dead, completely oblivious to the fact. How could he? How dare he not know?!

“Shh, Tim, I'm here. I'm here.” But not for Jason, whispered a vicious part of him.

“What's all this?”

Dick's heart just about stopped.

Damian stood at the entrance to the lockers' room, uniform folded under one arm, hair slightly damp from a shower and Bat-themed pajamas worn without shame. His mild annoyance was proof he had no idea of the drama that had happened not twenty feet from him.

With reluctance, he let go of Tim, a gentle hand lingering on his shoulder, before he took a few steps toward his youngest, most vulnerable brother.

“D-Dami, I... ”   Damn it, he had to be the one to tell Damian about this. Because otherwise, the person to break the news would be Bruce, and-

Shit.

Bruce.

Oh God. How could they possibly tell him- ? After all their fights, the goddamned shattering that had broken the man he had been, and their last conversations even being more admonishment about protocols that Jason had flippantly disregarded. Bruce would never recover. That was it. The end of Batman.

...But first, God he hated himself, wanted to just curl up in a corner and forget everything, first he had a young brother he needed to talk to. One... one little brother less than just this afternoon.

“Jason... ” He swallowed, his throat tight, his heart in denial, the words so damning, but needing to be said. “Jason did not make it. He... he's dead.”

Damian stayed thoughtfully silent.

Not... not the tearful reaction he had expected, but Damian had grown up surrounded by so much death and horror that he would obviously be guarded. And oh, Dick's heart went to his baby brother, and he truly wished he could

“I do not understand. Why such theatrics for the zombie?”

Dick gasped, knowledge warring with the flash of anger.

“Damian! He's our brother!”

“Did he lose his head?” Damian demanded, and Dick's mind buckled.

“Huh, no, but that doesn't have anything to d-”

“Then, why are you acting so weirdly emotional, Richard?”

Before Dick's temper could catch up to his mouth, the longest and most painful-sounding gasp erupted from the medbay, where, to the general shock of all, Jason's gray-ish body shot upward with both his arms raised.

Electroshocks didn't make you jolt like that.

Electroshocks, in fact, remained in their kit on the other side of the medbay, unused. Because Jason had seemingly been dead long before he had been brought to the cave.

That was roughly the moment when Dick's brain caught up with the first of many hints. Latched onto it with a fool's hope.

“... Damian... When you were calling Jason a 'zombie', what did you mean?”

Damian's brows scrunched up together, a look he meant to be intimidating, but had more in common with a disgruntled kitten. “Exactly that, Richard. Do we not have files on zombies in the computer? Dead bodies walking about animated by unholy powers?”

Jason's not- Dick forced the half formed thought to a halt. For once, he rather wanted to be very, very wrong in how he perceived his family.

“What's with all the noise? Can't someone try to sleep like the dead without screaming?” Jason groused. “Should have gotten myself buried ag-OOF!”

“JASON!” screamed the hysterical teenager that had launched himself at a very lively dead body.

“Huhh? Hi, Timmy?” Jason said blearily, ruffling Tim's hair, eyebags suspiciously prominent. “... Fear gas?”

The blinking slowed, the fog of sleep drifting away as he silently begged the rest of them for an answer.

Happily provided by a still crying Tim. “I thought you were gone!”

“What is dead may never die,” Jason quipped, his mouth twisting in that cocksure grin from his Robin days.

And Dick wanted nothing more than to stop right there, pass out from the relief and joy of his little brother being alive and kicking, but...

But... 

That joke. One of many morbidly unfunny jokes and puns.

Bone-deep fatigue crushed his back. A bitter curse for whatever higher forces messing with them echoed strongly inside his skull, before he gave in to the inevitable and inhaled a few times for patience.

“Jason. We thought you were dead-dead.”

With prickly, hedgehog style affection, Jason pushed Tim back and stood up, stretching. “Come off it, Goldie. I wasn't even decapitated. I mean, if you were really worried, you could have just called a necromancer or something.” His expression hardened. “But if you ever call a necromancer on my ass, I'll shoot your perfect glutes.”

Yup, yup, yup, this is happening.

Tim finally wiped the rest of the tears away, helped by one of Stephanie's handkerchiefs, when he froze. “Wait. Your skin's still pale as a corpse.”

The flicker of amusement in Jason's eyes killed it for Dick.

God, how could they have all been this idiotic? If Wally ever learned about this – Shit, did Roy and Kory know before him?!

They were going to laugh their asses off at him.

Jason, unaware of the world recalibration happening in his poor big brother's mind, shrugged and rolled his shoulders – who creaked suspiciously loudly, more like rusty hinges than normal body parts. “Eh, I'm just a bit hungry. Nothing a meal or two won't fix and get some blood flowing back under my s-”

“You're a zombie.”

They turned toward him.

“Way to cross the finish line on time, Mister Rabbit,” Jason drawled.

Barbara, for once, looked completely unprepared. “A zombie,” she repeated, dazed.

Stephanie's nervous giggle died out when she noticed the lack of humor. “... No!”

Cassandra furiously looked down, muttering in her fist. Duke, by contrast, had the expression of a person stuck in a very awkward nightmare.

Even Jason's good-natured ribbing faded in when faced only with the distant screeched of bats. “... Hm, guys, bats, roostery, parasites and octopi? This is old news. What's with all the... ”

He vaguely gestured at their faces.

“Old news?” Tim rasped like he was being strangled.

“I came back from the dead years ago! Come on! Am I in a parallel universe? Hey, Demon Brat,” Jason called, baffled, “you knew, right? I didn't imagine that, right?!”

“Of course, Todd. Mother informed me of everything. Besides, Grandfather's interest in your state of being was of interest for a few weeks. How could I have been ignorant about your zombified state of being?”

In the corner of his eyes, Dick noticed Tim's, Barbara's and Cassandra's expressions all pinching in displeasure. In a way, Dick was reassured. He hadn't been the target of a family-wide hoax to discredit him as an attentive and loving eldest brother. No, he was just naturally blind, apparently.

“He knew?” Tim growled, like it was a personal failing of the fabric of time and space.

Damian's tone was the exact opposite. “And none of you realized...?”

Dick squirmed. “I... huh... you see...”

His baby brother eyed him, completely unimpressed, and for once after years of partnership, Dick felt he deserved every single ounce of it.

“I see... I shall reevaluate the value of this 'detective training' I've been given if this is the result then,” he said, the nearest thing to completely disavowing his older siblings without saying so.  

In other circumstances, perhaps the others would have demanded that Damian stay and explain, but he suspected the quelling look it would have deserved prevented them. Not one of them spoke until Damian had disappeared upstairs and the elevator doors had closed.

“Jason, since when have you been a zombie?”

Jason blinked, jaw hanging. Juuuust enough for some of the scar tissue on his face to stretch past normal. Why did Dick only notice that now?

“Wait, you're all serious? How could you not know? I told you guys!”

And there was Dick's pride rearing its ugly head, because no, no he had not been told and maybe his deductive skills needed a very complete overhaul, but his memory was still excellent!

“You never said that. Heck, we weren't even talking until two years ago!”

“I literally told you all that I crawled out of my grave by myself, groaning the entire time. No experiment, no Lazarus Pit, just a body waking up in its own coffin and deciding to breathe fresh air. Does that not scream 'zombie' to you?”

They cringed.

“Not the only one that returned from beyond,” Babs mumbled. He could see her pull up the mental list right there.

“I greeted you all last meeting with a 'What's up, my bat folks? It's me, your favorite zombie!'. What did you think that meant?”

“That you're an asshole with a morbid sense of humor?” Stephanie quipped, and Jason momentarily paused his indignation to high five her. Fair's fair.

“Okay, but what about that time I got shot in the chest and I told you all not to worry about it?”

“I just figured you were going to get stitched up by Leslie or yourself, you know, regular bat neuroses,” Tim confessed.

Dick made a mental note to keep a much closer eye on Tim's patrols for the next few months.

“From a bullet chest wound?” Jason asked with an incredulousness that was not at all earned, because he was a freaking zombie!

“I thought your armor had blocked it! The hole wasn't bleeding!” Tim protested, cheeks red and tone defensive.

“Well, yeah,” Jason replied. “I don't bleed. It's like some fruit pulp or something. Ain't coming out if you don't press. My heart's not pumping.”

That's a 'nevermind' on the smoothie I saved for after patrol.

“Well, I know that now,” Tim said.

“I feel like I should write it down on the plaque or something,” Jason still sounded amazed, and might have pinched his arm just to be sure he hadn't been daydreaming, “Like, 'a good soldier AND A VERY DISCRETE ZOMBIE!' in big flaming letters. With a spotlight. And a dictionary opened on 'Zombie' or 'Undead'. You know, just in case the next batbrat to come along needs a few subtle hints about my true nature. What'd you think, Dick?”

He could not have been blushing harder than he currently was. “I think shut up.”

“Of course. What about when I shoved my deadly cold toes at Tim under a blanket?”

“Cold feet.”

“Never eating around you guys?”

“Daddy issues with Bruce,” Barbara deadpanned, and got a sock thrown at her for her honesty.

However, Duke, poor kid, turned green. “Wait, so when you offered me some jellied brain... was that not a death joke?”

Dick's stomach spontaneously shrivelled.

By the grimaces and sharp inhales all around, that was a common reaction.

Then the worst possible thing happened: Jason grinned.

He strutted, all confidence and brashness, and viper-quick, snatched an arm around Duke's shoulder. “Narrows, Nightlight, my tiny bitsy bro, everything I do is a death joke. My very existence laughs at death.”

Inside the batcave, the groaning was long-suffering and shameful.

“But that was actually brains,” Duke countered.

“Yeah. Calf brains. It's a delicacy.”

Tim massaged his forehead. What a mood.

Duke narrowed his eyes. “It was purely for the joke, wasn't it?”

Jason patted him on the back so hard Duke faltered. “One tragically wasted on your obtuse mind. I prefer me some Tête fromagée instead. Less like grainy jello.”

Stone-faced, Barbara wheeled herself toward the batcomputer. There, upon a series of quick clicks, she opened up the Bats's files. “Alright, you had your fun. Do you need to eat brains or are you just the world's least funny meathead?”

“I'm the world's most misunderstood vigilante!” Jason loudly protested, milking their pain for all it was worth. And then some. “But yeah, I do. No grey matter in there” -- he tapped his belly -- “no thinking up here.” -- his skull.

“Need some better quality brains then,” Tim stage-whispered to Stephanie.

Cass pointed the finger at Jason. “No killing for brains.”

Jason's good humor flickered with a flash of green. “Ain't ever done it, never will. It's a matter of morals, not hunger, Cass.”

Dick swooped in that minefield before it exploded.

“Great! Proud of you, Jay! You're the good kind of vegetarian zombie,” he said, putting an arm around his ginormous little brother's shoulders.

Wait a minute...

“Hey, you're older than when you died! Zombies don't age.”

“No, I was thrown into a Lazarus Pit, and the evil waters cured the malnutrition-induced delay on my growth. Haven't aged a day since.”

“I just thought you had a weird babyface thing going on,” Tim said.

Jason's grin turned sardonic. “Quite the opposite, Timber.”

Dick put his head in his hands in some vain attempt to prevent his brain from leaking through his ears.  With his luck, his little brother would 'playfully' eat some of it. “There's no way you look this rugged at biologically sixteen! I refuse to believe that.”

“Can you imagine my power if I'd been allowed to reach my full potential?” Jason leered, eyebrows waggling like waves in a sea at storm. “So many heart attacks.”

Barbara and Cassandra exchanged a silent look, and, after a solemn nod, Cassandra reached up to slap Jason upside the head.

“Thank you, Cassandra,” Barbara told her. “Jason, never do such a thing again.”

The disgruntled groan that followed must have been on purpose, because Jay was indeed an asshole.

“Besides, it's not like the world will ever know,” Tim said, cutting, a smirk hiding by his hand.

Dick really thought his little brother was far too relaxed upon learning that Jason was one with the undead. Sure, they had all encountered various levels of zombies during their missions, from all sorts of oral traditions and cultures, alien viruses and hidden nanobots piloting meat puppets. It wasn't even classified as a nation-wide crisis to encounter free-roaming zombies. But since the chronically unalive individual in question was one of their own, Dick felt he was owed at least a whole evening of frazzled panic and incomprehension for once.

“Oh?” Stephanie instead asked, sensing blood.

Tim shrugged. “Well, you know, no pulse, no blood flow,” he said with an angled eyebrow nodding at Jason's crotch

Stunned silence followed, their expressions varying from disgust, horror, unholy glee and, from Jason himself, wide-eyed shock that his shrimp of a little brother had had the balls to assimilate the zombieness fast enough to mock him for him.

Dick prayed for patience. For fortitude. And for an alternate timeline where he was an only child.

Why, for all the love of cotton candy and professional uncriminal clowns, did Tim put THAT image of Jason inside their brains? What had he done, him, a loving model for all of society, to suffer like this?

Maybe if he asked nicely, Jason would eat the image out of his head. He owed Dick that much after this clusterfuck of a conversation.

“Ooooooooh,” Stephanie crooned, miming getting dunked on. With acrobatics.

Jason huffed. “Like I was ever interested in the first place. I ain't Dick.”

“Okay, no slut shaming or virgin shaming, in fact, no shaming at all, please. In this house, we accept all sexualities, but we don't give out raunchy details about any of it, I only have so much brain bleach.”

“Share?” Duke pleaded in a whisper.

Oh, I wish I could, you young innocent soul.

A few beeps turned their attention back to Barbara and the batcomputer. “Well, that's one long overdue update to Jason's files. Anyone else want to share their 'obvious' medical condition?”

“Excuse you, being dead is not a medical condition.”

“I will make you wish for the peace of the grave, Jason.”

Droplets dripped from nearby stalactites.

A few bats flew overhead.

Jason turned to them like nothing had been said.

“Right. That was fun. Best night of my month. Can't wait to tell the Outlaws.”

Dick resigned himself to a series of unflattering texts by the absolute dickheads that were his second family. He could already tell the messages would blow up his phone to the Moon. 'You didn't know your brother that came back from the dead is a zombie?!'

“Have mercy and wait tomorrow morning?”

That smile could have been great or terrible. “You're lucky I'm in a spectacularly good mood, Dick.”

He had lifted his leg over his bike's seat when Duke was struck by genuine worry.

“Wait. Does Bruce know?”

Jason barked out a laugh.

“Of course he does! God knows he's got some massive blind spots, but he's obsessive, paranoid and I find subcutaneous trackers on me every week. No way he didn't get the hint before now.”

But, as his gaze went over the rest of them, his good cheer dimmed, his grin slipping off his face as surely as a bit of decayed flesh.

“... Right?”

[choco-glow]

Day of the Dead (Robin)

April 27th.

The bed shifted, creaked as Bruce dragged himself up out of the comfort of his way too expensive (and totally worth it) mattress, followed reluctantly by an equally exhausted Selina. He insisted she use the bathroom first, taking that time to rub his face and scalp, forcing himself into an alertness that he didn’t feel…and Bruce ignored his constantly buzzing phone. He could hear Alfred puttering around in his own room down the hall, Damian’s near silent footsteps alongside his dog’s as the youngest Wayne limped down to let Titus out. Tim…Bruce sighed, knowing that Tim one of two places; passed out in the chair in front of the computer down in the cave, or passed out on the couch in the library, his laptop on the floor.

Either way, he was sleeping, most likely, and Bruce was going to take advantage of that.

“Hey.” He glanced up, and the smile on his lips was small, but real; she looked so good leaning against the doorway in nothing but her underwear and one of his old band tees, tousled hair sticking to her forehead from her shower, a sweet smile on her face, those familiar green-blue eyes always so dark in the morning. Bruce dragged himself upright to wrap her up in his arms, hugging her tight, and Selina melted against him, nuzzling his cheek. “Bruce…”

“Thank you for staying…” He murmured, gratitude thick in his voice, and she patted his bicep, popping up on her tiptoes to kiss his nose.

“Of course, sweetheart. Go wash up and get dressed, I’ll head down and help Alfred with breakfast?”

“Selina, you don’t have to…” She shook her head, chuckling, and he chuckled back, ignoring his impulse to just turn away and go brood. Brooding wouldn’t help today…

“I want to. I know what today is…and why it’s so hard.” He ducked his head, swallowing his next word, and she cupped his cheek. “Bruce. I mean it. Jason…” He lifted his head, blue eyes tired but crinkled from a weary smile.

“I miss him.”

“I do too. Go on. We’ll be waiting for you.” He nodded, and after a lingering kiss, despite Cat’s aversion to morning breath, Bruce let her go. The shower was hot enough to wash away some of the pain from his shoulder and upper back, and after washing up, he carefully redressed the bandage on his thigh, then pulled on a pair of old jeans and a tee shirt. It was Saturday, thankfully, so Bruce didn’t have to worry about a suit, and making his way down the stairs, he was glad to see visitors…especially these visitors.

Four years…four years, he’s been gone now. His heart twinged, but Bruce didn’t have to hold up a mask around Dick, who hugged him tight as soon as his first Robin saw him, nor around Barb, who he knelt to hug as well. Steph looked a little lost, a little nervous to be here, and Bruce hugged her too, whispering thanks to her as he’d done to the rest, and if Steph hugged his waist a little harder, her voice a little thick…well, Bruce wasn’t going to tell.

“Father, Alfred the cat is most worried about you.” Bruce paused as he set Steph back on her feet, turning to face Damian, who was holding his purring tuxedo cat and looking concerned…and Bruce couldn’t help the tiny, choked sob, because Damian looked so much like Jason at that age, his whole being focused on “comfort father”.

“So I see. May I hold him?” Damian nodded, and Bruce gently took the cat, smiling as Alfred bumped noses with him and settled on his shoulder, purring deeper still. “Thank you, Damian…”

“This is an auspicious day; we need all the comfort we can receive…” He murmured, and Bruce hugged his youngest tight, tears spilling over now…and Damian hugged him back, clinging to him tight.

“That’s…that’s true…c’mon everyone, we better get into the kitchen before Alfred the butler and Selina yell at us.” He murmured, and Dick chuckled while Barb smiled and took the lead. Damian pulled away from the hug, but not from Bruce, and they walked in hand in hand, taking comfort from one another. Jason’s photo, the last one taken two weeks before he died, was sitting on the counter, as always, with a candle lit…and the new addition of a tin can with the label meticulously soaked off, full of dandelions, and Bruce paused by it, lips twitching up in a fond smile.

“Master Bruce, I hope you don’t mind…I wanted…well…I remember Jason making those bouquets for us when he was a child…” Alfred murmured, and Bruce just pulled him into a hug, tears running hot down his cheeks now.

“I can’t think of a better thing…It’s perfect. Best bunch of flowers that’s ever entered this house.” They all shared a laugh at that, though Selina, Steph, and Damian looked a little confused, and it was Dick who explained, his voice warm and fond as he remembered all the times Jason would prowl the Wayne grounds, plucking dandelions and purple clovers, filling an old coffee can or tin can full to the brim and bringing them back to the house to share, his smile bright and happy.

“…At first, we offered him the flowers from the garden, and Jason just shook his head, looking scared, and said that he got in trouble for pulling those. No one cared about the wildflowers.”

“Oh, what a sweetheart…” Selina breathed, and Bruce and Alfred settled at the table at last, which prompted Dick to pass them the plate of pancakes and motion to fill up.

“He really was…c’mon, let’s eat, best way to remember our boy.”

“Here here! And whatever we do, avoid Buzzfeed today.” Barb raised her OJ in a toast, and Bruce closed his eyes with a sigh.

“God, I hate Buzzfeed…”

“Same here, old man. Same here.”

—-

Six months I’ve been back, and not a Bat to bother me. Jason settled in for a quiet Saturday morning, and ignored cable for a change; he knew what was going to be all over the news today, and he, for one, didn’t want to hear yet another poignant portrayal of his death. At least Bruce wouldn’t be out in public today; he’d learned that from running through the old news stories from the last few years, and frankly, Jason was grateful for it. It…meant that Bruce at least care enough to mourn him. Even if the goddamn Joker is still alive…

He sighed, and pushed away the anger he still felt at that fact, and pulled out his guns, then pulled up YouTube on his TV. He scrolled through his usual recommended list, feeling…restless and a little out of his element; it was the first death day he’d spent back in Gotham, and his normal goofy favorites just…weren’t going to cut it. Then he saw the one video he didn’t expect to see.

Buzzfeed Unsolved: Jason Todd, Wayne or Robin?

A grin split his face.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

—-

“Welcome to Buzzfeed Unsolved. I’m Ryan Bergera, and this is Shane Madej. Today, we are covering the mysterious deaths of two important people in the deadly metropolis that is Gotham City…or are we?”

“Wait, what?”

“Jason Todd Wayne, the adopted son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, and the second Boy Wonder, Robin, both of whom disappeared the same day, April 27th…and have never been heard from again.”

“Ryan, you said it was one murder!”

“And therein lays our mystery, because the more you hear details of the case, the more you wonder if these two boys were really the same person.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh…I smell a conspiracy!”

“Shane, you smell lunch.”

“And a conspiracy! C’mon, out with details, gimme something, Bergera.”

“Hold your freakin’ horses, dude, lemme go over things…” Jason watched with unconcealed delight as he disassembled his pistol, cleaning each part as Ryan laid out the admittedly sparse facts of the case; of course, Jason knew the truth, but he was frankly somewhat impressed with the story that Bruce and Alfred had concocted. Of course, they couldn’t say the Joker beat him to death with a crowbar and blew up a building on him ( and even Bruce couldn’t have guessed that Talia al Ghul had stolen his corpse from the morgue, gave them an equally beaten dead kid to bury, and dumped his ass in the Lazarus Pit). But the story of Jason being killed as a hit out on the Wayne family was all too likely.

Batman had a lot of enemies.

Bruce Wayne had a lot more.

“No one was ever charged for Jason’s murder…here’s the last video of the press conference where Bruce explains things.”

“…Jesus, he’s barely keeping it together…I know he’s a billionaire, but he’s got a lot of heart…poor guy…”

“Yeah…I know we tend to fuck around on this channel, but…this kid died. Pretty badly, from what the evidence shows.”

“Man…so, you said there were theories, right?”

“Yeah, and they only get worse from here.”

“Well, we started the program with a dead kid; can’t get any worse than that.” Jason paused the video and just…stared at Bruce’s face, the tears on his cheeks, his exhausted appearance…and sighed a little.

“Sorry Dad…”

—-

“Theory number one: Dick Grayson killed Jason Todd out of jealousy. It was rumored that the brothers didn't get along and Dick and his father didn't have a good relationship when Jason came to the household.” Jason’s eyes narrowed at that one; whoever thought up that crock of shit had another thing coming. Sure, he and Dick had bickered like brothers, but at the end of the day, Dick was his brother from another mother. Even now, even with everything that had happened…Jason missed those hugs something fierce.

“I mean, that’s a pretty cut and dry one…”

“So it would seem…but if you look at the interviews, there’s nothing in Dick’s demeanor that shows any resentment or anger. And both Jason and Dick were orphaned at early ages and adopted by Bruce, so…”

“Yeah, I dunno. It’s cut and dry, but…at the same time, it doesn’t really make sense.”

“Especially given that Dick every year celebrates Jason’s birthday; I mean, killers can be weird, we know that from the last several seasons, but…I dunno. It doesn’t really fit.”

“Probably some asshole detective looking to close it up.”

“Probably…”

“On to number two!”

—-

“Bruce Wayne killed Jason Todd. This was, actually, the first big conspiracy theory to hit the web. Thankfully, it quickly died when people saw just how devastated Bruce was for months after his death, but apparently there are still some trolls on public forums who accuse Bruce Wayne of killing his son.”

“…That’s utter bullshit. Fuckers.”

“Right there with ya, buddy. Right there with ya. Onto three?”

“Please.”

—-

“Jason isn't dead, because of sightings of a homeless boy who wandered all around Crime Alley and looked exactly like Jason Todd. He was completely battered and bruised and suddenly disappeared after a year in the streets, likely due to a trafficking ring.” Jason raised an eyebrow at that, and turned his AK, Shane and Ryan’s incredulousness a comfort. He wasn’t sure why he was still watching this, but…it was kinda nice. Nice to have people be pissed off for his sake.

“Jesus Christ, Gotham, y’all are so dark.”

“May be why their superhero is Batman, dude.”

“STILL. Could this one have some merit, though, since he was an orphan?”

“This one is one of the strongest theories to date, because Jason was from a place called the Narrows, not far from Crime Alley, and according to Wayne Enterprises official documentation in their family museum, Jason had had issues with drugs and abuse, though to what extent, only the family knows. It’s a pretty ugly idea, but…it’s possible.”

“I think I’d rather be dead, Ryan, than go through that.”

“Same. Same…”

—

“Now. We move onto the disappearance of the second Robin, who vanished the same day that Jason Todd supposedly died. Possible theories of the disappearance of the second boy wonder—”

“Ryan. Ryan. Buddy. Champ. Are you implying, really, that Jason and Robin are the same kid?!”

“I’m just reading the script!”

“You wrote the script!”

“…I may be implying that they’re the same, yes.”

“I KNEW IT.”

“You don’t know shit.” Jason started laughing, and paused to get himself a fresh beer, ordering pizza while he was at it. Alright, this wasn’t so bad after all…

—

“He is hiding. Some say he hid from Batman, and some say Batman is hiding him from others. They don't know what, though. Some even say he quit the job.”

“Alright, I’ll bite, who’s ‘some’.”

“Paparazzi, conspiracy theorists, Alex Jones, etc…”

“Ah yes. The enlightened crowd.”

“Pftt…This is the weakest one, so we’ll go ahead and lay out the second theory while we’re at it. The second Robin died. After Robin stopped appearing with batman for an entire year, the same time Jason Todd died. This used to be a widely spread theory, until people realized maybe talking about the death of a boy in a terrorist attack for a conspiracy theory after his father broke down in public isn't the nicest thing to do.”

“And this is your theory.”

“This…is the strongest one I think, and the one that has the most emotional punch. But let’s be real; if the second Robin was indeed Jason Todd, then his Batman HAS to be Bruce Wayne. And c’mon. We’ve all seen the nightmare surrounding THAT theory.”

“Uh, yeah. No thanks, I do not ever need to write another “But the butts don’t match” article ever again in my life.” Jason snorted at that, cracking up laughing, and when he googled “The Butts don’t match”, he had to pause his boys because the ensuing hyena laugh had him flat on his back for ten minutes, absolutely losing his shit.

“Oh Christ, I love the internet…”

—-

“Next theory. He’s a kid, he took a break from vigilante-ing to do something else.”

“Now see, I like this one; that’s like, the most wholesome version. I hope this is the real one, but…”

“I know, man. I know.”

“Sigh.”

“Sigh.”

—-

“Almost there. Some people believe the second and the third Robin are the same, although many people disagree, considering witness reports that they looked very different, and the Robins were very distinctive in their fighting style and personalities.” Jason snorted at that, shoveling a slice of pizza into his gullet, and even the boys were looking a bit annoyed at that theory, Shane more than Ryan.

“Question.”

“Yes?”

“How the hell do they know about fighting styles?!”

“Gotham City Police.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense now.”

“Also, apparently Commissioner Gordon likes the third Robin more, which tells me they’re definitely not the same.”

“Yeah, if anyone other than Batman would know, he would. What’s next?”

“This one is kinda great, but also a bit outrageous.”

“Ooooh, juicy. Spill the beans, Bergera!”

—-

“Some even believe that the second Robin is now the infamous Red Hood. Gothamites have been known to try to stalk the dude but it's never successful, and supposedly, even the Batfam won’t bother him.”

“I mean, that’s a cool story, but how true is it?”

“Considering the guy wears a red freakin’ helmet with eyeholes and no mouth, who knows how true it is?”

“Still a nicer story than the butts. And hey, Red Hood is pretty chill, man, I think he’s probably the best thing to hit Gotham in years.”

“You’re a Hoodie!”

“The fuck is a ‘Hoodie?”

“Red Hood groupie.”

“Uh, hell no, I just think he’s cool.”

“Uh huh…Well, folks, that ties up our deep dive into the murder of Jason Todd, and the disappearance of the second Robin. To date, this case remains…Unsolved.” As the quiet music that ushered in the ending screen and credits, Jason sat back, working his second slice of pizza, and chuckled a little to himself. If only they knew…well. His people knew who he was; old man Falcone figured it out the second day Jason had been home. The Narrows had welcomed their boy back…And they weren’t gonna tell anyone. They didn’t trust Gothamites, they didn’t trust the Bats…which was why Jason had carved out his place here again, with gunfire and brutal justice. They trusted him.

He turned YouTube over to something mindless, and padded over to the window, feeling the sunshine, weak though it was, break through the clouds and warm his skin. Jason leaned against the familiar brick, and opened the window, letting in a rush of cool air, reminiscent of spring.

It was good to be home.

[catxsnow]

REPLACED

Summary: Bruce might have adopted a bunch of children, but that didn’t mean all of them were ready to take on the mantle of Robin.

Batfam x reader 

Warning: angst, self-depreciation, Damian being a demon-spawn  

A/n: I’ve learned when I’m feeling depressed I write depressing so here we are. 

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.4k

You struggled a lot in your life.

Bruce Wayne found you after the death of your mother. Your father had never been apart of your life and without your mom, you had no one. Just like he had done with the Dick, Jason, Tim, Steph, he had taken you into his home with open arms. It was a big adjustment, one that took you years to get used to.

He trained you to be the next Robin, but fighting was something that you could never grasp. No matter how much he pushed you, had patience with you, and spent hours upon hours training, you felt as if you were never going to be enough to get on the streets. You felt weak, pathetic that you couldn't be as good as the rest before you.

And then Damian came into the picture. He was trained from such a young age that he was far better than you and he was years younger than you were. It made you feel even worse about your skills. Before you could even get your chance as Robin, Damian had taken the title from right under your feet.

That was your breaking point. For years you forced yourself to not give up. You thought that maybe if you pushed yourself to your limits that you would reach the point that you could go out there. You were wrong. The moment Damian showed up at the Wayne Manor, you had finally given up.

Maybe it was for the best. If you had to train for that long, just to be able to go on patrol a few nights a week then maybe it was best that you never got your chance.

It broke Bruce's heart to see you give up.

He always wanted what was best for you. No matter how much he yelled at you and pushed you down, he did it because he wanted you to stay safe. Not once did he ever give up on you because you had never lost faith in him. Damian showing up ruined that.

It wasn't just his abilities that towered over yours, it was his teasing. He knew he was better than you and it made sure that you knew it. Damian put you down, mocked your skills, and pushed your to your mental breaking point. You didn't think he realized the damage he was doing until you broke down in the cave.

“What benefit does she even bring to the team, father? You’ve been trying her for years and she hasn’t even come close to making it the being Robin,” Damian harshly spoke. He said many more things about you, things that no one should ever hear about themselves. 

Damian was talking to Bruce about you, wondering why you were there if you never even made it out on the streets. His words tore through your chest - useless, weak, pathetic - all the things you already felt. You were sparring with Tim at the time, Damian must have thought that you couldn't hear.

Tim heard too.

He saw you pause in the middle of your training. Standing there with your shoulders slumped and tears in your eyes. He stopped, hearing what you were hearing and understanding why you were like this. The only reason that you were even down there, was because even after you told Bruce you wanted to give up, he asked you to at least keep yourself enough on your toes that if something were to happen to you, you could protect yourself against a common thug.

Tim tried to stop you from running off, he wanted to tell you not to listen to what he was saying but it was too late. You were already storming off, tears streaming down your cheeks. Thankfully, neither Bruce nor Damian noticed your exit - as far as they knew, you hadn't heard a thing.

Bruce was yelling at Damian when you left, angered that he would say these things about you. You might not have been the best fighter on the team but you were still part of it. Even if that meant that you were the one stay back and stay on comms or stitch them up when they got back. You were a part of the team just as much as the rest of them.

Damian wasn't able to see that. He was just a kid, as much as he didn't want to be seen as one. He didn't understand the human emotion at that age, especially being the way that he was raised. You knew that you should have taken that into account but it didn't make his words hurt even left.

You left to your room. The tears wouldn't stop, everything that he was saying was your worst insecurities spoken in truth. Everyone knew that you were self conscious about your skills, but they also knew that you were trying your best and that was what mattered the most. Damian didn't know that.

For years, you felt older than you actually were, it was a quality that was picked up by every child in that house hold. However, laying there on your bed crying your eyes out? You felt like the teen that you were. Filled with sadness, loss of hope, you didn't think you would ever find your place.  

You cried and cried until no more tears would come out. Knees tucked to your chest and staring at the wall with lifeless eyes, you felt like the disappointment that you always thought you were.

"(Y/N)," there was a knock at your door. It sounded like Tim, but you couldn't be sure over the sound of your sniffles.

Weakly, you replied back, "go away."

"(Y/N), I'm not leaving until you let me in," You knew for sure that it was Tim. He was the only one to see you run off so upset. Tim was always a good older brother to you. He understood the struggle of not being able to be as strong as Dick or Bruce, but where he lacked strength, he made up with in skill. You had neither, at least not enough of either.

Reluctantly, you allowed him to come in. Tim saw you curled up on your bed, eyes red and puffy. He joined you on your bed, wrapping his arms around you. You thought that you had no more tears to shed but the second you crashed into his arms, they spilled again.

"Don't listen to him," Tim rubbed your back. Age wise, you were the closet to him which made it easier to get along. Tim always seemed to take your side no matter the circumstance. "Damian has been training since he was a child, you've only been here a few years. That doesn't make you less worthy than him.

"In fact, just by showing that you've never given up proves that your better than he'll ever be. You're willing to learn, to improve, Damian has reached an arrogance that makes him thinks he has no more to learn," Tim tried to comfort you. "You can't give up now, I know you already talked to Bruce but -"

"But nothing, Tim," you shook your head, pulling away from him. "Damian's right, I'm not cut out for this, I never have been. We both know if I ever go out there, the whole time everyone is going to be worrying about me and the job isn't going to get done. Bruce might have made me family but I'm not meant to be under the wing of Batman."

"That's not true," Tim argued. He wished that you could see how much you had improved. He wished that you could see that you were just as valid of a member of this family. You were important to everyone there - even to Jason who rarely liked to admit that he tolerated anyone in that family.

"But it is, we both know it, we've always known it."

><

You wished that you were strong enough to not sulk around the manor for the next week but that wasn't the case. Damian's words were really tying you down and nothing was able to get out of your rut.

Tim tried to help in every way he knew how. He would bring you your favourite drink when the two of you got back from class, he even tried to bake you cookies. You appreciated his efforts, you really did, but this wasn't something that could be fixed with material items.

By the end of the week, Bruce finally picked up on how you were feeling. You had done your best to avoid him but when he cornered you in the library, you knew that there was no escaping him.

"(Y/N)," Bruce called out to you. World's best detective was going to see through you facade in a matter of seconds. It was time to face him, you knew you had to. Maybe this was what you needed: tell him how you felt about Damian's arrival. "You've been MIA for a week, what's going on?"

He didn’t even know that you heard what Damian said about you. What a joke. 

"Damian is what's going on," you suddenly felt this sudden rage fill your body. This wasn't like you, you were never an angry person. "Damian shows up in the middle of fucking nowhere and you treat him like he's some kind of-of god! I've been here for years, he hasn't even been here for two months and you replaced me with him. For godsake Bruce you let him take my place as Robin before I even got the chance!"

Your voice continued to raise as you spoke. Bruce had never seen you like this - the anger that rose a fire in your eyes and fists tight at your sides. He knew that Damian's arrival wasn't necessarily ideal in their plan for the future but he couldn't change what it was now.

“We’ve talked about this. I’d rather you be stuck training for years then dead on the streets because you weren’t ready,” Bruce tried to argue. The situation was less than ideal but he didn’t even put in the extra effort to try and change it. 

“That isn’t the point!” You yelled. “I don’t give two shits that I’m not ready. I don’t care that I’m not as naturally equipped as the others. You gave up on me along time before I gave up on myself. You replaced me because that was easier than facing me!” 

"(Y/N), calm down, you're starting to sound like Jason," Bruce tried to get you to lower your voice. He had known the pain that Jason felt when Tim took his place after his death and you were starting to say the exact same things that he was saying when he was in that same place.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Your voice still echoed through the large library. "Maybe Jason was right. Maybe this family is too fucked up to ever amend. Maybe he was right to leave and never look back! You let Damian say those things about me and you never did jackshit about it! What kind of father does that prove you to be?"

Bruce looked taken aback by your words. You always appreciated him taking you in, but there were some lines that he had crossed that you couldn't forgive him for. This was one of them - the betrayal that you felt when he took sides over his son he didn't even know existed against you.

Bruce’s silence said more than any string of words could.

With a huff of air, you pushed past Bruce and out of the library. Maybe Bruce was the reason that you were never able to reach your potential as Robin. Maybe he never took you to the same level that he took with the boys and with Steph. Maybe it was Bruce Wayne that never wanted you to make it to being a vigilante.

The idea had never crossed your mind before, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought it to be true. You felt as if you were always missing pieces of training - moves that Tim was able to do and you couldn't, tactics that Dick would come up with, even using weapons like Jason when he was Robin. There were so many things that you could never do.

The thought of him sabotaging your success just made you even more angry than you were before. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to be Robin, you wanted to be a better hero than Bruce, Dick, and everyone that came before you. You wanted to prove everyone wrong.

You hadn't realized that you walk of anger had led you to the gardens. The sun was just setting and through your red vision, you had to stop and admire the beautiful orange and purple skies that shone through the trees. The sight had calmed you instantly, and you stood there to watch the sun finish setting.

Dick was the one to show you how pretty they were in the gardens. It was when you first arrived at the manor, upset about your mother's death. he tried to make you feel better with the view and it had worked. You always thought of your mother when the sun set after that, it was a reminder she was still there with you.

"(L/N)," you hadn't realized how long you had been watching it. The smallest glimpse of light was left and darkness began to cover the yard. You were surprised to see that it was Damian standing next to you. Since his arrival, you avoided having a full conversation with him. "Father told me to come apologize to-"

"I don't want your apology, Damian," you looked down at him. He seemed relieved that he didn't have to do it, but even more so confused. Just as the last bit of light left the sky you fully faced him. Damian watched as your face grew with determination.

"I want you to make me a lethal weapon."

[kimberly-spirits13]

You’re Alive??? (Request)

Paring: Batfam x Batsis

Synopsis: (Based from 6 Underground) You were presumed dead 5 years ago by your family during a mission gone wrong. After a while they supposedly moved on with their lives. Meanwhile, you had actually runaway with a new team. Now that you’re back in Gotham you wonder what your family is up to now a day and if you really can keep undercover without the world’s greatest family of detectives finding you.

Warnings: Mentions of death, angst, swearing, killing (non -graphic), I have never seen the 6 Underground so I read a bunch of character synopsis and cast interviews so I hope I get it decently right, sad Damian and guilty Timmy at the end lol

Note: Flashbacks are in italics, Y/S/H/N= Your Superhero Name, Y/N/N= Your Nickname

Word Count: 3044

           Five years ago, you were in Rio waiting to head out and take down one of the drug lords that had a hand in shipping Cobra Venom. Tim and Bruce had tracked it down along with some help from a few members that were interrogated by you and your older brother Jason. The night was cool and the undergrounds of the city were alive with action. Your squad, Red Robin, Nightwing, and yourself were traveling underground the targeted warehouse. Black Bat and Spoiler were covering the sides above ground and the rest were ready for the signal to enter in through the skylight.

           The tension was rising in the air mostly from you as you knew that this would be the last night that you saw all of your siblings. It was a daunting thing to ponder on, leaving Gotham and the only family that you had ever known but tonight was about to be the start of an irreversible new beginning. You headed to the doors that secretly led to the main part of the room. Robin from above called out the positions, and at the signal given by Bruce, your squad jumped into action and flew out of the trap door to ambush the targets.

           Everything was going well until one of them slipped out of the back.

           “I got him!” You yelled running for the motorcycle that he had left running when he took his own.

           The moment that the engine started, you were flying down the street yelling at people to get out of the way as the chase began. It was exciting at first, but your stomach churned at the thought of purposely flying off of a cliff and trusting someone that you hardly really know to save you from a rocky death. The streets became closer and closer to the cliffs as your family finished up in the warehouse and were now coming after you.

           You looked behind you to see the lights of their bikes behind you getting closer and closer.

           “Y/S/H/N! Slow down we can catch him, you’re getting too close to the cliffs!” Red Robin called on the comm.

           “Back off, I’ve got this one.” You sped up seeing the checkpoint coming up that you were to jump from, “Ohhh shit Y/N, don’t fuck this up please.” You thought.

           It was important to actually catch the guy so when you go to the checkpoint, you fired off a shot that took out the wheels of the perp, leaving him crashed on the side of the road as you went off the cliff. You could hear screaming from above as you mentally cursed yourself for getting into this.

           “ONE NOW WOULD BE A GREAT TIME TO CATCH ME!” You said into your new comm after crushing the one that your family used.

           “Gotcha.” You felt someone grab you up before the motorcycle blew up on the rocks, seemingly leaving you to your watery grave. The two of you disappeared and you watched from afar as your family scrambled to find you, only seeing the tarnished cloth that came from your costume.

           Your heart hurt for them and you knew that they might never forgive you if they ever found out what happened. But, now that was in the past, now it was time to start a new life.

           “So, you ready to join the team Eight?” One asked smiling at you.

           “I just faked myself in front of my family, so yeah I don’t think I have a choice.” You replied as he patted your back laughing some.

_______________________________________________________________________

            That was five years ago today. The team had welcomed you and now the only name that you knew was Eight. Four and Seven were chilling on the couch at the base and the rest were just around minding their own business.

           “Hey Eight.” 4 said as you sat down on your phone.

           “Sup.” You replied scrolling through the news.

           There was an article that caught your attention and you stopped. It was from Gotham. One of the people that you and the team had been hunting down was suspected to be there. He was in Gotham for “business” but you knew that that business was dirty and corrupt, painted by the blood of the innocent. One came into the room and everyone looked at him as he called the team over to the briefing room.

           “So, you guys remember our friend Mr. Whitestone right?” He asked pulling up a picture of the man.

           The team nodded as you crossed your arms knowing where this was going.

           “Well, he’s in Gotham right now for what we here call the drug Coachella.” “Our mission is to take him and is comrades down.” He looked at you for a second and then spoke again, “Our only issue is keeping away from the Batman and his posy.”

           You looked down for a second at the floor and then back up realizing what this meant for you.

           “We leave on Thursday so be ready. It should be a quick in and out mission and if we finish everything on time, we can come back on Saturday.”

           Everyone left after the briefing but you who stayed behind.

           “You’re seriously going to risk being caught by Batman and the rest of them?” You asked, “He’s the world greatest detective, not just some idiot in a costume running around with the GCPD.”

           “I trust that with your guidance we can stay in the shadows without being caught.” “It will be in and out faster than they can blink.” One said.

           “Yeah but you also have to remember that Whitestone will also be on their radar so we’ll be after the same person at the same time. Look if this gets blown, I don’t know what I have to do. You had better know what you’re doing One.” You walked out of the room and back to your bedroom to think about everything and pack some for the trip. It was going to be a long week of backstabbing your family once more and the guilt was starting to ride up bit by bit, little by little.

           Thursday had come and everyone was ready to move out.

           “You ready for this?” One asked with a hand on your shoulder.

           “Yep.” You replied stepping away and getting into the car that would take everyone to the hotel.

           The car pulled up through the traffic and you guys walked upstairs to your rooms. You were sharing a room with Five and Two. You looked in the mirror at your dyed hair to see the new blonde color instead of the black that you had so famously inherited from Bruce. Maybe it wouldn’t be a big help, but it was better than nothing. Tonight, would be filled with patrolling the areas of the target and possibly taking a few down but really, that was Friday’s objective.

           You and the team left the hotel to go patrol yourselves around Gotham. It was early but the targets were already out doing whatever illegal shit they would be partaking in for the night. You and your squad stalked one of them. Two was about to make her move when you pulled her back.

           “Wait, just let me take this one. I used to come to Gotham a lot, I know where everything is.” You whispered before jumping down and gagging the man so that he couldn’t make a noise.

           One had informed that the team didn’t need intel from him so you didn’t bother asking questions.

           “Run, don’t make a sound and I’ll let you live.” You whispered into his ear.

           He whimpered and you let him go before killing him with what might look be similar to a batarang.

_______________________________________________________________________

           “This can’t be real.” Tim whispered under his voice, “That’s her! That’s Y/N.”

           He was watching the security cameras closely and saw your figure, “That’s the form that she would use and everything.” “Plus, she knew where the security cameras were.”

           “What are you over here mumbling about Timmy?” Dick came and sat down next to him as he whipped newly formed tears from his eyes.

           “Tim what’s wrong?” Dick went into mother mode and was now actually greatly concerned for Tim.

           “I think I found her. Y/N is still alive.” Tim whispered, “Look at this.”

           Dick watched the video and his eyes went wide, “That was her form and everything. I mean it’s unmistakable.” “She would always throw it in that way and then step back with her left foot.” “Wait.”

           Tim looked up with almost a shade of terror in his eyes.

           “That’s blonde hair not black like Y/N had.” Dick remarked falling back into the chair, “it just can’t-.”

           Tim cut him off, “Y/N TOLD ME THAT IF SHE EVER DYED HER HAIR IT WOULD BE BLONDE!”

           “When did she tell you that?” Dick asked rubbing his eyes.  

           “She told me the exact shade right before her last mission.” Tim Googled the shade and then color matched it in the right light, “That’s it too.”

           “Tim, this is a great dream but, it can’t be. We all saw that wreak.” He said looking at his younger brother.

           “No, Dick, you’ve always told me that if I know for sure that something is the way it is, I should go after it. I KNOW that this is her.” “And, if we track based off of the person that was killed...” He stopped for a moment thinking, “The next logical target is Aron Whitestone.”

           “Timmy, if you really think that this is her... we need to go find her.”

           “My thoughts exactly.”

           Tim called in Jason and the three of them decided that this would be their secret incase the lead was wrong. Jason would be the one to go after her and the two of them would be in the background.

           The team was following Mr. Whitestone and his posy when you started getting a bad feeling about still being in Gotham. Last night your kill was sloppy. You realized that maybe it was on purpose but at the same time it might not be worth risking blowing your cover over.

           Like last night you, and now the entire team was stalking the group of 6 that were walking around the docks.

           “Of course, it HAD to be the docks.” You thought, “These people must be new in town.” You smiled some remembering what it was like to wait with Tim or even Jason when he was Robin listening to the men’s conversations.

           “What’s so funny?” Four asked looking at you.

           “Nothing.” Your smile immediately dropped as you scanned around the area to search for maybe a Black Bat or stray Batgirl running around or perched on a stacked train car. To your partial avail, you saw no one.

           “Eight, you take Mr. Whitestone, the rest, take the ones around him.” One said.

           “Why does Eight get the best one?” Four asked.

           “No questions just go.” One said dropping down.

           Just as you finished off the man someone grabbed you. You flipped the person over your back and stopped when you saw the giant red helmet looking at you.            

           “Y/N?” He asked as you noticed the team ready to take him.

           “Stand down.” You said pinching the bridge of your nose. They didn’t, “I said stand the fuck down.”

           That got their attention for once.

           “We thought you were dead.” You pulled him up, “And who are these guys.”

           “Hood... I know I have a lot of explaining to do, but I really can’t.” You answered looking back at One who was now looking at someone behind you.

           “You really do.” You turned around to see Red Robin and Nightwing.

           “What are you guys doing here?” You asked.

           “No, I think the question is what are YOU doing here?” Nightwing remarked walking closer to you, “That form isn’t really a good way of hiding your identity Y/N/N and I know you knew that.”

           “Just give me a second.” You walked over to One and the rest of the team.

           “So does this mean I’m kicked off?” You asked, “I mean they know about me now which sort of defeats this entire dead man thing.”

           One was also confused and partially irritated, “I need to think about it. Maybe you are.”

           “What if I just joined in when you need me?” You asked, “I mean then it wouldn’t be as you know... violating of the code.”

           “Just go with them. I’ll know where to find you when I have a decision.” He said. “Team, let’s move out.”

           You watched them leave, only Five coming to give you a small hug. After that, you were at the mercy of your brothers.

           “Okay... what the hell was that?” Jason asked getting visibly angry.

           “Those people are my team. They are who I’ve been with for the past five years.” You said fiddling with your fingertips.

           “Why did you disappear like that?” Tim asked.

           “I-I...” You fell into silence as a tear streaked down your face of all of the years pent up alone, guilt eating you alive.

           Nightwing was the first one to pull you into a massive hug followed by Tim and then eventually Jason. You smiled some at the feeling before sighing.

           “You guys are actually going to kill me.” They stepped back to let you explain, “Five years ago was not a nice place for me.” “I needed to break out of my shell and leave. I had accidently killed someone and thought that when Bruce found out, he would kick me out or send me to Arkham.” “I found One, and went with his crazy idea of starting a new team of undercovers.” “I never thought of the consequences and acted brashly. I’m sorry for the hell that I must have put everyone through. It wasn’t right and it was selfish, but I never could stop thinking of everyone and I just... it was fun for a bit and then it wasn’t.”

           “So for five years you’ve been living as a ghost going around the world with seven other people fighting crime?” Tim asked you.

           “Yell technically six others. Our driver was killed.” You said getting a look from the three of them, “Legitimately killed.”

           “Well, do you want to go back to the manor?” Dick asked.

           “Do you think anyone would even want me?” You asked looking at the ground.

           “Y/N, I know they would.” Jay said, “Now come on before anymore creeps show up around here.”

           You laughed as they took you back to the cave where everyone else had already met up for the night.

           “You’re back late.” Steph said.

           “Yeah well we had some business to take care of.” Jason replied, “Oh Steph, you might want to sit down.”

           “Wait why?” She asked.

           You stepped out from behind the boys and smiled shyly.

           “Y/N?” She screamed jumping up and tackling you to the ground.

           “Shit Steph.” You laughed some as she hugged you greatly.

           “What is wrong with Brown?” You heard someone else enter the cave a few minutes later she stepped aside, letting you up before you were almost taken down by Damian again.

           He came at you with his swords yelling and cursing at whatever dared to pretend to be his beloved dead sister.

           “Woah there Demon.” Tim yanked him away from you and explained that it was in fact you.

           With a moment’s notice you heard the clatter of fallen swords and then the weight of a now 13 year old Damian latched on you.

           “Hey Dames.” You said hugging him tightly.

           “W-what happened to you?” He asked crying some into your shirt.

           “I did some really dumb things Dames. I just didn’t want you to grow up with me as your example.” You replied now carrying him like you used to when he was younger.

           “But I would have never looked down upon you.” Damian said.

           “I know, and I’m so so so so so terribly sorry. There aren’t enough words in the universe to tell you how sorry I am for leaving you.” You stopped dead in your tracks upon seeing the rest of the family.

           The rest of the family reunion was sweet and long overdone. You mended ties with Bruce and told him everything that had happened. Maybe it was for the best that you had gone away for a bit just to clear your mind. But one thing now was for sure that you didn’t know what was next. You couldn’t just leave the team that you were on but you sure as hell weren’t going to leave your family again.

           “Miss. Y/N there is someone here to see you.” Alfred said stepping into the library where you were hanging out with Damian.

           “Alright, thank you.” You replied, “I promise I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

           Damian nodded letting go of your hand as you walked downstairs to the front door.

           “Eight.” One said greeting you with your bags.

           “So, does this mean I’m off the team?” You asked taking them and putting them aside.

           “Well, I think it does. But not permanently. I have discussed it but I think that the best thing that you can do now that your priorities have changed is to join us for missions in which we need your assistance.” He explained, “So for now, yes, you are off the team, but rest assured that if there is anything that we need, Eight is the first person that we come to.” “You are however never allowed to mention this to anyone.”

           “Sworn to secrecy, yes I know.” You smiled some, a real, genuine smile this time.

           “Okay. I hope to see you soon.” He nodded letting you give him a small hug.

           “You too.” You said, “Oh and One?”

           “Yep?”

           “I told you that they would find me. World’s greatest detectives. Remember?” You smirked crossing your arms.

           “Yes, the nights spent figuring out cases with a sassy and irritable bat are something I cannot forget.” He replied walking down the stairs as you shut the door behind him, racing back up to the library to join Damian and later catch up with everyone on the last five years.

Note: Okay, so I really hope that I did this right. I haven’t watched 6 Underground so please just take it easy on me. I did however really like the request so regardless I wanted to see what I could do. Please, if you have any critiques or requests, send them my way. Does anyone have anything Marvel that they’d like to see? I was thinking of maybe Tony Stark daughter or something but I don’t mind. You guys are great, hope you’re staying safe and staying healthy. Have a wonderful week! 😊

[psychovigilantewrites]

Baby Bird- Rewrite

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: SMUT

Word count:  5296

Summary: This is a rewrite of my first ever fic! I didn’t really incorporate the whole Baby Bird thing in this one, and i did change a lot of it, though the story is still very similar to each other. I’m pretty proud of it! Let me know what you guys think!

You can find the original on my Masterlist

Read it on Ao3

Kofi

You had a relatively good relationship with most of your brothers.

You loved watching rom-coms with Dick when you both got the time, and he was always there to lend you an ear. He was the first person whom you truly loved unconditionally, as he brought you out of your shell when Bruce first found you and took you in.

Tim was a bit harder, but mostly because he was shy. You didn’t really have many things in common with Tim except that the both of you were more business savvy than the rest. The two of you were the main attractions during Wayne Enterprises’ functions, and you would even share projects together.

Damian was a tough nut to crack, but after he came in, it only took you a couple months before he started showing you that he didn’t mind you. Scratch that- you were pretty sure that you were his favorite. Everyone else treated him like he wanted to be treated, an adult. But you maintained a perfect balance of shaking his hand business-like when you meet him, and spoiling him with hugs and kisses he pretends to hate.

You never had brothers before, but you were sure that the ones you had now were as perfect as brothers could ever be.

But then there was Jason.

You didn’t see him as someone you loved brotherly, someone you relied on, or someone you shared hugs and kisses with. That’s because for some reason, he hated you.

Well, hate was a strong word. Maybe he just really disliked you.

In fact- he disliked you so much that he would try to avoid you as much as possible. You tried so hard to get on his good side. Read the same books he did just so you could have something to talk about, even took his side whenever he argued with the boys or Bruce.

In which he would respond with a gruff “I don’t need your help.”

You were at a loss. All you wanted was to be close to him. Maybe cuddle up with him on the sofa, leaning against his hard body. Maybe feel his large, thick, magnificent hands resting on your thigh whenever he sat next to you during dinners. Maybe brush your lips against his chapped, pink-

Whatever his problem was, it made you frustrated.

***

“Where are you going?” Jason glared at you from the living room. He was lying down on the sofa with his feet up, peeking at you from behind his book.

You blinked your eyes in surprise. He hardly ever initiated conversation with you. Perhaps he was finally warming up to you? You tried to hide your smile as you walked closer to him from the staircase.

“I’m going to see someone,” you answered and smiled sweetly at him, trying your best not to agitate him in any way.

“Who?” he frowned, sitting upright.

You tried to hide your surprise again. Two questions in a row? He must be in a good mood.

“Uhm, Ray,” you replied, “We take the same class in college.”

“Why are you wearing that?” he shot a dirty look.

This time, you frowned and looked down at yourself. You were only wearing a tight baby doll t-shirt with a skater skirt that went up to your mid-thigh.

“Uh, I always wear stuff like this,” you told him.

“No, you don’t,” he narrowed his eyes at you, judging you from top to bottom.

You felt a bit offended. Was he really questioning your sense in fashion?

You wanted to bite back, but refrained from doing so. You really didn’t want to get even further on his bad side.

“You’re right,” you forced a grin, “Maybe my choice in fashion tonight is a bit odd. I think I’ll change my sneakers to flats. What do you think?”

“It’s not the shoes,” he rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Do what you want.”

And he went back to his book.

You stood there in silence, mouth slightly ajar, confused as to what happened. Before you could gather your thoughts and say something, your phone rang.

“That’s me,” you announced, “I’m going now.”

Jason didn’t answer.

***

The date went well. Ray was a cute guy. His olive eyes complimented his tanned skin, his chestnut hair falling in soft locks around his sharp, angular face. He was polite as well, even walking you up to the door from his car.

“I had a good time, Ray, thank you,” you giggled, slightly buzzed from the cocktails he bought you.

“Me too,” he smiled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. “You look so pretty tonight, did I mention that?”

“Yes, like five times,” you laughed, slapping his chest. “I’m glad you think so. My brother basically snorted at my fashion choice.”

“What, this skirt?” he widened his eyes, pulling you closer by the waist. “This skirt drove me crazy all night.”

“Your damn flirting drove me crazy all night,” you purred, snaking your arms behind his neck.

“I’ve been thinking of kissing you,” he admitted, his voice turning low. “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you tiptoed and crashed your lips against his, eliciting a deep and guttural moan from him. His hands slid from your waist down to your ass, bunching up your skirt with every squeeze.

Suddenly, he was gone.

You blinked a couple of times before realising what had happened.

“Get the fuck off her,” you heard a familiar snarl.

Jason had ripped Ray off from you, causing him to stumble backwards. You were speechless, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“Jason!” you hissed, “Ray, I’m so sorry. This is my brother, Jason.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he chuckled nervously.

“Adoptive brother,” he corrected you.

That made your chest tighten.

“Ray is my date tonight,” you told Jason, ignoring his previous statement, “He was just saying goodbye.”

“Well?” Jason crossed his arms, “Say goodbye, then.”

“Uh, it’d be nice if we had some privacy,” you tried to tell him.

“No,” he simply stated, looking straight at Ray as if sizing him up, daring him to do something.

“Jason-”

“Get scarce, or I’ll break your jaw,” he growled.

“O-okay,” Ray surrendered, “Going now. Bye, I guess.”

And he half walked half ran to his car without waiting for your answer.

You just watched him silence as he drove off, and then turned to Jason angrily.

“What the hell was that?” you barked, shoving him aside to enter the manor.

“He had his hands all over you,” he replied coldly.

“So?” you argued, “I’m an adult, Jason. I can sleep around with guys if I want to.”

You thought you saw his jaw clench.

“You can’t,” he grit.

“Excuse me?”

“You. Can’t,” he repeated.

Now, you know Jason had some anger problems, what with the Pit and daddy issues and all that. And you have seen him throw his tantrums. Whether it was breaking chairs, or beating people up. If you lived with Jason Peter Todd, you knew how destructive he could be.

And you knew it wasn’t his fault. You knew that he was constantly trying to be better, which was why he moved back into the manor in the first place. To be with family, hoping that the company and care and attention would help his mental state.

Yet, against all your inner voices screaming at you to stop, against all you rationality, you couldn’t help but provoke him even more, because you were just fucking sick and tired with him treating you like shit when you had tried so hard to be nice to him.

“All this while you refuse to acknowledge me as your sister, you ignore me, push me away, fucking criticize my choice of clothes,” you seethed, “And now you’re telling me that I can’t do whatever the fuck I want with my own body?”

“You can do whatever you want,” he replied, “I just won’t let you.”

“Let me?” you repeated, “Let me?! Who the fuck are you? Because you’re obviously trying very hard to not be my brother!”

“Fucking hell, listen to yourself!” he groaned, “Spouting all this brother, sister crap! I know you try your goddamn best to fill whatever void you have with this family shit, but you want to know the hard and honest truth?”

He stalked towards you, jaw set and mouth in a thin line before leaning in close and saying the harsh words in a dead voice, “I will never think of you as my sister.”

Your breath stuttered then. If it was any other situation, it would have been because he was so close to you that you could feel his warm breath on your face. But this time, it was because you were trying hard to force back the tears into your eyes.

Did he really hate you that much?

Instead of asking him that direct question, you tested his patience even more.

“Just because your own mother betrayed you, doesn’t mean the rest of the world will,” you lashed out, “But you know what? I can see why she did it.”

And you regretted every single word you said the moment it came out of your mouth.

You saw Jason’s expression change, from the stable frustration before, into a flash of white hot anger. He was shaking, his nose flaring, his hands in fists.

“I- I-” you stuttered, “I didn’t mean-”

Before you registered what had happened, you jumped when you heard a loud bang!

In the raging anger he felt, Jason punched a large crack into the old wooden wall of the mansion, and then stormed off, kicking a vase down in the process of walking up the stairs. The final noise you heard from Jason was his door slamming shut.

Fuck.

You were a horrible person for saying that. The guilt crept in as you realised how harsh your words were.

Well, it wasn’t like he was nice to you either.

Still, he didn’t stoop so low as to bring up your painful past and use it against you.

Sighing, you argued with yourself in your head as you walked up the staircase to go to your own room. Jason’s room was just down the hall from yours, and you hesitated in front of your room, considering that maybe you should go and apologize.

With a deep breath, you head over to his door and raised your knuckles to knock, but midway, just a split second before you hit the wood, you noticed that the door was open by a teeny tiny crack.

And a tired moan coming from inside.

You froze, fist still in the air, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck.

Another moan, and the sound of the springs of his bed creaking.

No. No, no, no, you weren’t supposed to be there. You weren’t supposed to be listening in on his private, intimate moment.

You felt a tingle between your thighs.

Fuck, and you most definitely were not supposed to get turned on either.

Yet, at the back of your head you couldn’t help but add this piece of information like you would a note on a calendar.

Jason Peter Todd jacked off when he was angry.

Your brain told you to run, because what you were doing was wrong, an invasion, perverted. But despite your rational thinking, your feet were still glued right in front of his door, ears hypersensitive, straining to pick up every sound you could.

You closed your eyes and breathed in deep. Okay. You recollected yourself. Now it was time to go and maybe release your frustrations in the same way- but in your own bed with your door locked.

But as soon as you made to move, something else held you back that made you lose all your senses.

Another moan coming from Jason’s room, but this time it was your name.

He moaned your name.

You froze on the spot then, morals thrown out the window, you carefully inched closer to the gap between the door, straining your ear even more.

“Fuck, fucking bitch, fuck,” he panted.

Jason wasn’t terribly loud, but it was obvious that he was trying to restrain himself from being too noisy. After all, you all lived in a house full of vigilantes with trained heightened senses.

Now you were scared of being heard, because though you were only listening in, you could feel your breaths getting heavier and heavier, not unlike Jason’s.

And you kept on listening.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out loud, “Teasing people with that- hnngh- fucking skirt. Fuck!”

You accidentally let out a soft giggle, before clamping your palm against your mouth. You wanted to run away in fear that you were heard, but once you ran away, you knew you wouldn’t find it in you to come back and listen.

So you stayed your ground.

“Tight fucking shirt,” he continued, and you knew you were safe.

Huh.

Jason Peter Todd also liked to ramble while he jacked off.

At least now you knew why he hated your outfit so much. Who knew it was because he felt like he was being teased?

You were becoming more amused by the second, because hell- this was the guy who had his walls up so high, the same guy who refused to share anything remotely personal with anyone, and to see him crumble down and fuck his fist-

He let out a long, deep groan- and fuck.

Fuck.

Did the sounds of his cock get even wetter?

You needed to see him.

You decided to get on your hands and knees on the floor, thinking that standing up would cast more shadows and make it a bit more obvious that someone was outside the door listening in. So you crouched and tried to make yourself seem as small as possible.

You pushed the door very very lightly, hoping that the hinges didn’t creak.

Now you had a view of Jason, who was lying down on his back, his dark blue t-shirt riding up to his chest. Your eyes trailed down to the deep V that went down to his body, a small patch of his happy trail, his grey sweatpants hitched down to his knees, and his perfect, thick, swollen cock hard in his fist, glistening wet.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the view, feeling your panties getting soiled by the second.

Have you ever been that horny in your life? Probably not.

Jason was brutally fucking his fist, and fuck, even though the view was less than perfect because you were too scared to push the door open wider, you could see how fucking tight he was gripping his shaft.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

The rustling of his movements, the heavy stuttering breathing, the slick sounds.

You tried to resist, you really did.

But then, he raised his palm to his mouth and fucking spat onto it loudly, fucking filthily before going back down to continue.

That’s it. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You lifted up your skirt and pushed your panties aside, sliding a finger in between your folds and biting your lip so you don’t moan.

So you don’t run inside his room and beg him to take you right then and there.

Your eyes travelled back up to his face and was hardly surprised to see that he didn’t exactly look like he was pleasuring himself.

His eyes were shut tight, his eyebrows stitched together, his expression in an angry scowl, occasionally biting his lower lip, occasionally parted to take in deep breaths, occasionally whispering your name.

He looked furious as he stroked his cock.

“Fucking Christ,” he rasped, “Wanna fuck. Wanna fuck you. Fuck.”

And of course Jason Peter Todd would take the Lord’s name in vain while he had his dick in his hand.

What was wrong with your brain? The man was technically confessing that he wanted to fuck you in depraved growls, for fuck’s sake. Why were you focusing on the stupid little details?

Like how long has it been since he started? Did he immediately take off his pants and start masturbating right after your fight, the minute he slammed the door shut, while you were downstairs wallowing in guilt?

Kinky son of a bitch.

You started rubbing circles on your clit, feeling the shoot of pleasure spread in your body, heightening your heart rate even more.

If he really did jerk off right after your fight, does that mean he does it every time he got angry?

You added a note at the back of your head again: Make Jason Peter Todd angry more often.

Fuck, but didn’t that mean he had been going at it for awhile now? Was he going to come soon?

You resisted a groan that almost escaped your lips at the thought of being able to see him spurt his cum on his washboard abs.

You picked up the pace of your own, matching it to Jason’s.

But your back and knees were getting kind of sore already, so you tried to shift around a bit. In that process, you lost your balance. And to regain your balance, your unoccupied hand went straight for the door.

And accidentally pushed it open, stumbling into his room.

“What the fuck!” you heard him gasp.

You froze on the spot, your hand still down your skirt, making eye contact with Jason who was already standing up, cock tucked back in his sweatpants- though that didn’t make a difference because phew, a hard dick in a pair of grey sweatpants was a sight.

You cleared your head and scrambled back to your feet, heart thumping loudly and face heating up at the embarrassment of being caught.

“Uh- I- uh- I thought of saying sorry,” you panicked, “And uh- I didn’t- I didn’t hear- see! Ididn’tseeanythingsorrybye-”

You turned to run away, to lock yourself up in your room and never ever come out. You didn’t even see Jason cross the room and snatch your wrist, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you.

He had you against the door now, his grip on your wrist tight, his body just inches away from yours and god you wanted to feel his hard on against you.

“I think,” you started, “I think you broke the lock when you slammed the door hard. It’s okay I’m sure Alfred can-”

“Why are your fingers wet?” he asked in a low voice.

“Wha?”

You noticed that the hand he was gripping was the one you were using to touch yourself, and he was gripping it high up to his face.

You gulped.

“I was just- uh- washing!” you rambled, “I was washing my hands and didn’t dry them off. Oopsie daisy.”

You let out a nervous laugh, but then was cut short when Jason tilted his face towards your wrist, his nose touching and breathing onto your skin. He took a deep breath, smelling your hand as he travelled from the fleshy part below your thumb up to your two wet fingers.

You clenched your thighs.

“Washing, were you?” he smirked, his eyes hooded and dark.

“Mhmm,” you nodded furiously.

He closed his eyes and continued smelling your fingers.

What the fuck?

Then, and you admit that a piece of you died a little and went to heaven at that point, he let out a small lick at the tip of your index finger.

And fucking groaned, the kind of groan the reverberated back into your bones, the kind of groan that made you feel everything he was feeling.

Your brain basically short-circuited.

When you thought that he couldn’t get any hotter, and any more embarrassing, he took your whole two fingers into his mouth.

Your jaw dropped.

He started sucking on your fingers, his eyes now opened and staring at you intensely, and fuck you could feel his tongue swirling on your fingers, wet and hot and desperate.

“Jason,” you breathed.

He let your fingers out with a pop, and the released your hand.

“Touch yourself,” he instructed.

And you weren’t going to fucking argue with that.

You hiked your skirt up, pushed your panties aside again, and with the fingers that had just been in his mouth, you started rubbing your clit.

Your mouth fell into a little “O”, and Jason?

Jason just watched.

With his breathing hard, his warm breath fanning across your face, he didn’t even look down to where you were touching. No, he just stared deep into your eyes as you continued.

Then, he rested his forehead against yours and let out a soft moan. You heard rustling again, and you looked down, and saw him fisting his cock near your lower belly, as you kept on going at your clit.

“Oh my god, fuck,” you looked up at him, breaths mingling with each other, tips of your noses brushing against one another, as you both touched yourselves.

“You made me angry, baby,” he purred, his other hand going up to cradle the back of your head.

You watched as his thick biceps flexed and rippled as he jerked his fist.

It was funny to you. Just a few minutes ago, he told you that he would never think of you as his sister, and now here he was calling you baby.

Oh. Oh.

Boy, were you stupid.

“Do you always masturbate when you’re angry?” you whispered.

“Sometimes,” he breathed back.

“I just made a mental reminder to make you angry more,” you told him.

“Hmm?” he smirked, “And why would you do that?”

“So I can spy on you,” you blurted.

Jason chuckled the hottest fucking chuckle you’ve ever heard. “You don’t need to spy on me. All you gotta do is ask.”

“But,” you argued mid-wanking, “That takes the fun out of everything.”

“Oh, really?” he said, taking steps back.

His fist kept on going non-stop while he walked backwards towards his bed, and you didn’t notice it before, but his pants were completely gone.

He walked until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and then he sat down, all the while never stopping his strokes.

“So you think this,” to make a point, he started fucking his cock faster and harder for a bit, “Isn’t fun?”

You didn’t understand how someone could be so hot.

“Okay, fine,” you conceded, leaning back against the door because you were worried your knees were going to go out anytime, “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he scoffed, “Comere.”

“There?” you hesitated, suddenly nervous at his invitation.

Even in the midst of horny bliss, you suddenly remembered that Jason was never close to you. You didn’t know a thing about him, and you never really connected.

“Yeah,” he frowned, his fist stilling, “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No!” you hurriedly said, “I do. God, trust me, I do. But it’s just…”

“But?”

“I always thought you hated me, Jason,” you stopped your fingers as well, standing upright, “I don’t want this to be a one time thing, and then you go back to hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he shook his head in surprise, “I never hated you.”

“Really? Because somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Look,” he sighed, “The reason why I was so mean to you is because I didn’t know how to act around you. And being mean was the only thing I know how to do. But I never hated you. It’s the opposite, in fact.”

“You like me?” you asked, hopeful.

“Sure I do,” he shrugged nonchalantly, but you noticed his ears slowly turning pink.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I never imagined that Jason Peter Todd would tell me he liked me while he was sitting on his bed without any pants,” you giggled.

“You wanna come here or not?” he huffed.

You smiled and walked over to him, stopping right in front of him, between his opened thighs. You looked down into his eyes, blue and fierce, and always so intense. He took off his shirt, so he was there, right there, in all his naked glory.

“Take off your clothes,” he murmured.

You didn’t know what to say back except to just do what he had instructed you to do. So you firstly peeled off your tight baby doll shirt, and then slid down your skirt.

What do you know, you thought you noticed him gulping.

“All of it, sweetheart,” he demanded, “I want to see all of you.”

You nodded, and reached behind to unhook your bra, letting your breasts fall. You saw Jason’s immediate change in expression. His jaw went slack, and was looking at you in awe. You were just going to slip down your panties until-

“Too slow,” he said, and then gripped you by the waist and threw you onto the bed on your back.

He immediately went to attack your breasts, sucking and biting and nipping onto your nipple, pinching the other one with his free hand, squeezing and tugging.

“Jason,” you moaned, his warm tongue drawing circles on your nipples. He travelled further below, leaving a trail of opened mouth kisses on your skin.

And finally he reached the place you wanted him to be at the most, his hot breath hovering over your panties. He proceeded to start licking your folds over them, drenching your already wet panties even more with his mouth.

He continued to mouth at your core, teasing you with occasional nips, but never directly stimulating your clit.

He was good at driving a girl crazy in more ways than one.

“Jason,” you whined, “More.”

“More?” he smirked.

“Yes, stop teasing,” you complained.

He laughed and pulled your panties down swiftly, but he didn’t go back in between your thighs, where you arguably thought he belonged.

He came up to you and kissed you deeply, for the first time. He sucked on your lower lip, playing at the entrance of your mouth with the tip of his tongue, prodding but never really entering.

Unfortunately, he was also doing the same with his cock.

You had your legs spread as wide as they could, presenting yourself to him, yet there he was still teasing you by pushing up his tip against your entrance, but then going to your clit to circle on it, and then brushing down your slick folds to tease you some more.

“Now you know how I feel when you wear those short skirts out,” he growled against your lips, “Fucking cock tease.”

“They weren’t even that short,” you pouted.

“If I can get glimpses of your panties when you bend down, then they’re short,” he argued back, “God, the things you do to me.”

He went to your neck to suck on the delicate skin, no doubt leaving marks to be questioned by everyone in the morning.

“Y-y-you,” you stuttered into a sigh when he started tapping his cock against your clit, “Your arms are nice.”

Stupid, stupid.

He burst into laughter, muffling himself using the crook of your neck.

“My arms are nice?”

“Yeah, I want you to choke hold me with them.”

He suddenly met your eyes, surprised.

“What?” you asked.

“Holy fuck,” he simply muttered, and then crashed his lips into yours again, this time shoving his whole tongue inside to taste you.

And thank God, he did the same with his cock.

He slowly pushed in at your entrance, stretching you deliciously apart.

The both of you groaned in unison, finally able to really feel each other.

His pace was slow, but it soon build, all the while you were thrashing about, trying to grip onto something, because his cock had filled you up so fucking perfectly, you knew you were going to feel it for days after.

“Fuck, Jason,” you closed your eyes tight.

“Yeah, baby?” he panted in your ear, “You like my cock in your pussy?”

“Yes,” you whispered, unable to voice out more in fear of being incoherent.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned out loud, his pace increasing even more, “Feel so good around my cock, baby.”

You only heard his dirty, sexy voice, the wet sounds amplifying with every thrust, his stuttered laboured breathing and his sharp intakes of breaths, and fuck that was enough to tip you over the edge.

“Jason,” you moaned, unable to say anything else.

“Take my cock, sweetheart,” he gasped, “Fuck, so much better than I imagined.”

He gripped both your thighs in each of his hands, and then pushed them back towards you, so he could fuck you at a better angle, a better pace.

And he pummeled into your pussy, fucking you into the goddamn mattress as you did nothing but cry and whine and whimper and moaned, his cock hitting every pleasure spot inside you.

You felt yourself climbing, going higher and higher into ecstasy with every “fuck” coming from Jason, every loud groan you knew someone in the house would hear, every breath he took that was becoming more irregular.

“You want to come, sweetheart?” he asked, “I can feel you getting tighter, fuck.”

You nodded furiously, trying so much to reach that high.

Then, he leaned in, and whispered in your ear with the lowest, huskiest, desperate voice you’ve ever heard.

“Too fucking bad.”

He stopped his motions altogether.

Your eyes shot open.

“What?” you nearly shouted, “Jason!”

“You made me angry, didn’t you,” he gave you a shit eating grin, “Did you really think I was going to help you get off after that?”

“But-but-” you started, “I already said sorry!”

“Sorry’s not enough, baby,” he tutted, “I want you to beg for it.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he raised an eyebrow, “Beg.”

Thrust.

“For.”

Thrust.

“This.”

Thrust.

“Cock.”

Fuck, you were going absolutely insane.

“Jason,” you whined, “Jason, please. Please, I need your cock, Jason. I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You threw away every single dignity you had.

Hey, the man’s got a good cock.

“Why should I fuck a girl who likes to piss me off?” he growled, jaw clenched.

“Because, sir,” you tested. “I promise to be good next time. And if I’m not, then…”

You trailed off.

“Then?” he prompted.

“Then you can punish me,” you finished.

“Fuck,” he started fucking you again, “Fine.”

That didn’t take much. Jason obviously had a thing for begging and being called sir.

This time, he pounded into you with a force that knocked your breath out, and he continued to do so until you were climbing again.

And this time, he didn’t stop.

“Baby,” he rasped, “Baby, come with me.”

“Jason.”

You felt his thrusts getting faster and faster, though more sloppy and irregular, desperate to chase his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he gasped, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You felt it, the moment Jason let go, you reached your peak, feeling yourself sliding into the realm of pure pleasure as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

He quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach, some reaching your breasts, some hitting your fucking chin. Then, he collapsed next to you, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Fuck,” he agreed.

The both of you burst into laughter, the first laughter you ever shared together.

And you knew from then on, it was okay if he didn’t see you as his sister, because you most definitely could not see him as your brother- and you realised you never did.

You were just so desperate to get close to him that you’d use any excuse you could find.

But you’ve successfully closed the gap between you and Jason Peter Todd, and you knew you were currently witnessing his walls slowly crumbling down, bit by bit, right in front of you.

[adragonhoardingstories]

Daminette Soulmate AU Headcannons (3)

Damian was not worried. He was just going to introduce his literal soulmate to his friends and allies to the superhero community. That was the whole reason for this brunch. 

It was just that Marinette should have been here already but he hadn't heard a word from her.

Ya Amar, where are you? Jon is getting rather impatient for my surprise.

Sorry Habibi. She seemed out of breath. Emergency. Final battle. Paris. Damian didn't usually get scared, it had been trained out of him, but…

It's being covered live. She added for his benefit and that was all that he needed to bolt downstairs. 

"Out of my way." He snapped at Superman, pushing past him and making a bee line to the room with the giant television.

Jason and his friends were there. He snatched the remote out of Roy's hand just as he was about to hand it to his daughter and changed the channel. 

Normally he would get shit for this and normally he knew better than to behave like this around a kid but he felt like his behavior right then was justified. 

He ignored his father who had stormed in after him demanding he apologize to Kal-El as well as Roy insulting him.

Thankfully, Jason seemed to understand that something was wrong, he just turned his attention to the T.V. and just in time for him to find the right channel. 

"-been raging for over five hours. It has been the longest duration of time for which Hawkmoth has been sighted. It seems like our heroes are fully determined not to let him get away this time."

His father had shut up, finally understanding his behavior. He placed a hand on Damian's shoulder and another on Jason's, "She'll be alright."

"We're aware of that." Damian snapped as the room started filling in with other heroes. 

"We don't need you to tell us that." Jason was as tense as he was. 

"I'll fly to...Paris isn't it, and help." Clark said. 

Damian clenched his knuckles. 

"The fuck you will!" Jason growled. "Sit your ass down and don't move."

"You will only hinder her work. No outside help until she requests it or don't you think we'd have been there already." 

Both Jason and Damian loathed the fact that they couldn't be there fighting by her side but she had forbade it and as much as he hated it, her reasoning was sound. 

"But we can't-"

"Kal-El," His father thankfully spoke up. "Shut up before my sons make you. I've approved this. She'll be fine, I'll explain later." More people were filling into the room, curious if what they were hearing. 

The camera panned to the different heroes. "There has once again been a mass akumatization and the the battle seemed to reach a decisive point. Draka, Viperion and Queen Bee have successfully held off Hawkmoth, Mayura and Volpina as Ladybug purifies the akumatized civilians and now Lady Noir is back in the fight."

The camera shows as the teams flawless change their position so that Hawkmoth is left for Ladybug, Mayura being taken care of by Vespa and Draka and Volpina by Viperion. 

However, Volpina as always did not play fair. Somehow, all three ended up away from the fight with her while Hawkmoth found a partner in Mayura against Lady.

It was impressive, the way she shifted her fighting styles and even her alter egos, going from Lady Bug to Lady Noir in a matter of seconds to counteract their attacks. She kept up wonderfully well for having two such skilled adversaries.

But they had been fighting for hours and it was very clear to Damian that the Kwamis wouldn't be able to keep doing this. 

He was so glad at that moment that there was a bunch of superheroes in his house. If needed be, Marinette would get the whole Super community as backup if she asked. 

However, she was still outnumbered and soon she found herself in a dead end with both Hawkmoth and Mayura caging her. 

"That's it." Jason cursed. "We're going."

Damian wanted to agree with him but he felt her determination, her decisiveness and he smirked. 

"No wait." He pushed his brother back to sit. Jason turned to look at him like he was crazy which soon turned into confusion as he saw his expression. He knew Jason still had some trouble adjusting with their bond.

"She has a plan." He confided. "She has them right where she wants them."

Jason stared at him for a few more seconds before he turned back to the screen. 

"Give me your Miraculous and I won't hurt you." So predictable. Damian almost rolled his eyes. 

His soulmate slowly raised her hands up, trying to seem as a non-threat, which is why they were taken by surprise when she extended her baton so that it slammed into Mayura's stomach. 

Immediately after she vaulted over her fallen villian, letting her transformation roll off. She rolled on the ground, to hide her face and brought a hood and a mask that hid her mouth and nose up. 

"Is that your league uniform?" Jason asked Damian. 

"It's based off of it." He replied. "She liked it so she made one for herself in parallel with my new one."

"So you have a fancy costume, doesn't mean you can beat me now. It reduces your chances actually."

Even through the mask Damian could see her annoyance. 

Mayura charged at her. She was clearly the smarter one of the two villains, her doom came with the fact that she listened to Hawkmoth. 

Marinette seemed to see that too because she whipped out a gun. 

"Did you give her the gun?" Damian asked amused. 

"Of course, I did." Jason seemed smug that she was actually using it. 

Before the villians could react, she made a perfect shot, aiming at Hawkmoth's Miraculous. 

Of course, a normal weapon wouldn't hurt a transformed hero, where their skin was covered but momentum was more than enough to make his butterfly brooch fall, letting the transformation off and revealing Gabriel Agreste to the world. 

Before he could do anything else Marinette threw a bola at him, incapacitating him. It was rather funny seeing him wriggle around like a worm. 

"I gave her the bola too." Jason informed the room. No one was surprised. 

That left Mayura. She leapt in front of Gabriel, intending to take him away but Marinette threw something, once again with terrifying precision that ended up with the peacock Miraculous pinned to the wall and one unveiled and frozen Natalie Sancoeur.

The camera panned to the object and showed it as a batarang. 

"I gave her that one." His father informed them, he didn't need to look over to know that he was smirking or that the other occupants of the room were staring at them in total confusion. 

Meanwhile, Marinette had already recovered both of the Miraculous. 

"How-" Natalie asked as Marinette walked to her. She didn't seem interested in fighting anymore, she seemed too shaken up.

 Marinette simply smirked, not that it was visible to anyone. "The sincerest compliments from the Batfam." Then she decked Natalie knocking her unconscious, right in time for the other heroes to land on the roof.

Dick and Stephanie whooped and Tim and Cass laughed. Damian hadn't noticed when they came in.

"Good job." Draka said, throwing Volpina down. 

"Likewise." She stepped back and out the gun back in it's holster on her thigh. 

"Spots on."

Ladybug crouched next to Volpina, and took her necklace and crushed it, a dark butterfly coming out of it. 

She made quick work of purifying it, leaving Lila Rossi there. 

The heroes each grabbed a villain and made the way to the police as Ladybug summoned her lucky charm to fix the city. 

She had a smile on her face and Damian could feel how at peace she was in that moment as she followed her teammates to the police. 

The camera went closer to her. "Ladybug." The voice that was reporting and that he had tuned out, called out.

"Hawkmoth has finally been defeated, how are you feeling?"

"Definitely relieved." She smiled before Turing serious. "But it's not over yet, Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Sancoeur will pay for their crimes."

"And what do you think of Paris' Golden Child, Adrien Agreste involvement in this affair?"

"Well now that they have been defeated, I can say this. Adrien Agreste is a hero. Our victory today has been possible because of him. After finding out who his father is, he came to me and together we decided on the safest course of action which was to send him away incognito." An outraged what could be heard in the background. "He will be returning to Paris shortly and will have a press conference to clarify everything. I ask of everyone in Paris to not judge a son for the sins of his father. Adrien is a hero in his own right and has suffered enough through this debacle."

"That is some shocking news. I understand that you have to deal with the police now, I won't hold you for much longer. We've noticed that you've used a batarang in your fight if I'm not wrong, and you mentioned the Batfam. Is there anything you'd like to say to them?"

"I suppose." Ladybug laughed, then she turned to the camera and winked. "Sorry for missing brunch. I'll be there as soon as I finish dealing with this."

"Damian." His father said and the whole room which consisted of almost all the heroes in the world turned to look at them. "Tell her to invite her teammates as well, I think they deserve a celebration."

Damian nodded his eyes turning blue, on the screen they could see Ladybug's eyes turning a familiar shade of green. 

"Uh, are you alright?" The reporter asked. "Your eyes turned...green."

 She smiled reassuringly. "Nothing to worry about, that was just my soulmate." 

"What did he say?" A voice asked and the three other heroes were seen coming back into the frame. 

Ladybug smiled that one smile that promise chaos. 

"Oh this is going to be good." Tim had become an admirer of her schemes. "That's the smile she gives before she's about to wreck havoc."

"Oh, not much" she said innocently, "Just that you've all been invited to brunch."

All three of them froze, while the red clad heroine looked like she was having the time of her life. 

"The brunch you were supposed to be at right now?" Viperion asked. 

"With the entirety of the Justice League, Young Justice, Teen Titans, the Outlaws and basically every other hero in the world." Draka continue. 

"Uh huh." She smirked. 

"I don't know what to wear." Vespa muttered. She seemed...in shock.

There was an enraged yell heard and Ladybug sighed. "Alright, break time is over. Let's go."

"B-but-" Vespa muttered. It was so different from the confident, sassy hero Paris knew. 

"You can take something of mine." Ladybug said. "That goes for both of you as well. Now shall we get to work, or else we'll never be finished in time."

They all turned to her for orders. "Viperion, Draka you are guard duty, I also need you question them all they know about Emilie's Agreste situation."

It was clear to everyone in the room that while she was talking to her team, she was fully aware of the camera still recording her and made sure to phrase her orders in a way that the people watching would have an idea of what was going to happen next. 

"I am heading to Agreste mansion to contact Adrien and find Emilie and after talking to them both I'll be reviewing the crimes Gabriel, Natalie and Lila are being charged with."

The other heroes were pleasantly surprised at how professional and organized she seemed. 

"Vespa, you are going to talking to the Mayor and the police, submitting all the evidence we have against them and liasing with the Italian Embassy about Miss Rossi. Send them the evidence we have of her willing working with Hawkmoth. Also, get her parents before you do anything, because she is ultimately still a minor."

The heroes dispersed and the reporter started giving a rundown of everything that had happened, was happening and would happen. 

Meanwhile, in Wayne Manor, Barry asked the question every other non-Batfam member was asking themselves. 

"Okay so who the hell are they and how did we not know of them before?"  

@persephonebutkore @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @satans-favorite-homo @mystery-5-5

@abrx2002 @clumsy-owl-4178 @daminett4life @18-fandoms-unite-08 @bluerosette23 @dawnwave16 @imanerddealwith @heldtogetherbysafetypins

@st0rmy-w1th1n @northernbluetongue @chez-pezeater @thebananathatwrites @black-streak

@ghostcryptid @zerotosiki @krispydefendorpolice @dur55

@weird-pale-blonde-person @casual-darkness @maude-zarella

@sonif50 @zalladane @dast218

I tried to get everyone in the tag list, sorry if I missed someone

[zayray030]

Do you even care?

Chapter: 4/5

Chaper Title: Let me tell you how bad you messed up.

Summary: Damian finally explodes when asked why he believes those bullies. They're all willing to wait though.

“What are you doing here?!” asked Damian confused when he saw his old team along with Colin, Maya and Suren.

“Well what do you remember?” asked Maya.

“Those cretins attacking me and saying that no one loves me. Not exactly wrong but still, just because somethings true doesn't mean you should say it.” he whispered the last part to himself but Clark and Jon heard and boy if they didn't feel like the worst sacks of shit to exist on earth.

“And they're lying.” said Colin.

“Are they?” Damian asked him, raising an eyebrow, arms wrapped around himself.

“Yes, Damian! What makes you think otherwise?” asked Kori but she could tell it was the wrong thing to say when Damian lowered his head.

“Okay then let's start with you lot. The moment you all got you all decided to leave. You all decided that you didn't want anything to do with me and when Grayson offered you a place on his team, what did you do? You joined him without another thought. Didn't even try to talk or contact me after that.” he said harshly, still not looking up at any of them.

The old titans had the sense to look down in slight shame. It wasn't the fact that none of them had wanted anything to do with Damian, they just thought he would be happy without them. Raven's heart was starting to crack with how sad Damian's emotions were.

“My current team thinks of me as a complete joke after I fired West because he had given his speed force connection to deathstroke. Not to mention being the only human doesn't exactly bring you a lot of respect with superheroes.” when it looked like the metas in the room where going to complain Damian just looked up with a single raised eyebrow and they deflated. He was right.

“Maya left me for an entire year after we got into a petty argument and hadn't tried to talk to me since.” Maya looked down slightly in shame. “Colin was truly happy away from Gatgam and me so I decided the best way for him to be fully happy was if I wasn't there.” Colin’s eyes had begun to tear up at the confession and he had to hold back from squeezing Damian into a hug. “Suren was too busy in magic to even care about me.” Suren looked down in shame. He truly hadn't meant to forget about Damian. “Maps’s parents decided that they didn't want their daughter associated with me and she's taken to ignoring me.” Maya clenched her fists, mentally reminding herself to find that girl later.

“My own brothers hate my guts and try to find any reason to humiliate me.” Damian spat out hurt, anger and betrayal swirling around in those words.

The boys had the sense to look ashamed of themselves and didn't try to cut Damian off as he finally let everything out.

“Drake hates my  guts and tries to make a point to remind me and everyone else about that every chance he gets.”

Tim looked down on shame. Did he truly do that? Did he truly make his brother feel so unloved that he would believe a bunch of spoiled brats?

“Todd barely gives me the time of day unless he wants something from me. He hasn't tried to get to know me one bit and I don't know what hurts more. The fact that I can still remember him from my time at the League or the fact that he left me with them.” snarled Damian and Bruce let out a sharp gasp.

Jason felt guilt swirl against him. He had remembered a small child there but had thought it was another baby assassin in the making and hadn't thought much of it. He had been too busy thinking about his revenge against Bruce to actually put any thought through it.

“Grayson has been the only person in this family to show me love without strings attached and even then he uses it.” said Damian and Dick adopted a confused look. “He left me the moment he got and disappeared back to Bludhaven. Far away from me. He then pretended to be dead even when I needed him the most. He then decided to scream at me in front of his girlfriend just because I had wanted to save him.” Damian continued and so did Dick's guilt that was growing.

“Cassandra hasn't even tried to get to know me. And I thought…I thought she would be able to understand me considering the fact that we both went through the same thing.” he whispered, hurt lacing his voice like poison and Cass felt guilt like she hadn't felt for a long time.

“My father belittles me for every little action I do and doesn't try to get things from my perspective before immediately jumping to conclusions about me. My mother raised me to kill and belittles me just as much as father. And don't even get me started on my grandfather.” he said bitterly.

“And Jonathan?” he said, chuckling bitterly. “Tt. He leaves me the moment he gets an invitation to the Legion of Superheroes and decides to call me Baby Hitler. He treats me as if I'm dirt from the bottom of his shoe and ignores me whenever he can.”

Jonathan looked down. Part because of the complete shame he felt at the hurt he had bought Damian and part because the numerous nasty glares sent his way.

“So now ask me again. Why would I believe what those entitled brats had said when it's true?” he asked the room. Raven eventually hovered over his bed and sat down.

“We know that no amount of apologies is going to make up for what we did to you.” she said and Damian scoffed.

“But we are willing to wait.”said Jaime. He had been silent throughout Damian's speech but his guilt hadn't. Even the bug had been quiet.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. When everyone nodded he took a deep breath. “I don't want to be Robin then.” when he heard a mix of sounds he held his hands up to continue. “Most of the problems stemmed from me being Robin and truthfully, I think it would be nice to sleep for a while and not wake up to a dozen or so bruises covering your torso.” he added lightly, as if to joke. It had the desired effect and numerous people snorted.

“That's more than okay, Damian.” said his father, relief evident in his voice. He had his cowl down and Damian could see the love in them that he had never seen before.

“Also can I have a cat?” he added. Bruce just held back his groan at the thought of getting another pet but he saw Damian's face and gave in. What was the harm anyway?

“Sure.”

And even though they all knew that things won't be all dandy and cheary, they knew that they would be able to pull through.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine:

The Batfamily is all assembled in the Batcave working on some case, when Alfred intercoms them from up in the Manor. He says there’s a man on the phone for Master Dick, with it being a matter of some urgency. Bruce starts to ask if he’s established whether its an actual emergency or something he can take a message on, but Alfred continues...

Alfred: Err, the individual in question ensured I was aware he knew Master Dick was on the premises and available to take his call...even if I did need to patch him through to our....downstairs line, as he termed it.

Bruce: Our downstairs line? He phrased it exactly like that?

Alfred: I’m afraid so, sir. He was circumspect, no doubt in deference to our....privacy in such regards, but there was little margin for misinterpretation as to his meaning. This may come as some surprise, but I have considerable practice in the art of reading between the lines, and like to imagine myself somewhat of an expert at the craft.

Bruce: *sighs* Patch him through, Alfred. Did he give a name?

Alfred: Very good, sir. And yes, he did say Master Dick refers to him as Boone.

All eyes swivel to Dick, as Alfred transfers the call to the Batcave’s ultra encrypted top secret super hush hush line. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Dick: If I get an ulcer from the next five minutes, I’m absolutely naming it after him.

Bruce: You don’t seem surprised this person has knowledge of our identities. Why wasn’t I informed of this individual, as a potential threat of exposure?

Dick: Umm, it didn’t seem relevant?

Bruce: ....what.

Dick *shrugs*: I mean, to be honest, I mostly forgot. He’s known forever, and its not likely to ever be an issue for the same reason he’s never done anything with the knowledge before now. He’d never give our identities to someone who could potentially compromise us or harm us, because that risks someone other than him killing me before he can say he’s beaten me and proven himself better than me once and for all, and that like. Pretty much would defeat the whole point for him.

Bruce: ....I’m almost afraid to follow your logic.

Jason: I’m so happy right now.

Dick: If it helps, he’s known since like, I was eleven. So I mean, I do feel pretty confident if it was going to be an issue, he’d have made it one way before now. Hence why I....kinda just forgot. I mean, I didn’t really forget, forget, but like I said. It just didn’t seem relevant.

Bruce: ....that does not help, no.

Tim: Wait, what? Who is this guy!?

Damian: ....Grayson, did you hit your head on patrol? You’re not making any sense.

The speaker crackles to life again before anyone can press Dick for more questions.

Boone: Hello? Are you reading me loud and clear in the top secret Batcave you got there? 

Dick: Boone. What the hell do you want, and how do you even know we have a Batcave, let alone call it that? And also, what the hell do you want?

Boone: Freddy! My buddy! My pal! Long time, no ass kicking! 

Dick: Not that long. Usually you like to wait a few more months than this before ringing me up to ask for another one.

Boone: Any chance we swap this connection out for a video call? You sound irate, and that’s easily one of your top ten facial expressions. You can’t tell but I’m fanning myself just thinking about it.

Dick: I am going to kill you. It is going to hurt.

Boone: Promises, promises. You always say things like that and yet here I am, my masochistic needs still unmet....

Dick: Boone!

Boone: Freddy! Alright, unclench. No need to get your jockstrap in a bunch. I figured you had a Batcave because you obviously have to have some kind of lair on site, and your Daddy Warbucks seems too fond of his toys to fit everything in the attic, so downstairs seemed a safe space. You can relax. I’m not spying on you via a periscope sticking out of your toilets or something suitably archvillainous and cliche.

Dick: And you just happened to know its called the Batcave?

Boone: ....well on that score I mean, I have met you, and your old man does have a theme, and it wasn’t actually super hard to add two plus two and get four there. Thanks for the confirmation though. Its always nice to know I’ll still be able to make it on my brains once all this beauty begins to fade. Ah, time, that bitch. The absolute Murder Icon we all aspire to, with a body count none of us will ever match.

Dick: Did you call just to wax poetic or whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing, or is that just a treat I’ve earned with all my good karma.

Boone: Actually, funny you should say that, because I’m calling with an exciting investment opportunity that could reap you loads of karma reward points on the back end!

Dick: ....what.

Boone: I need your help. Sorry, was that not clear? I don’t have a ton of practice on that line. My profession’s not big on the whole communal effort sort of thing.

Dick: ....what.

Boone: Oh come on, don’t be like that. It can’t be that shocking to you, I mean, you’re a hero. Helping people is what you do. You have to hear that line all the time!

Dick: Yes, just usually not from mass murderers.

Boone: Oh, you damn me with faint praise.

Dick: As long as we’re clear on the damnation part.

Boone: Besides, I mostly just murder in a singular fashion, you know, as in one at a time. There’s hardly ever any mass.

Dick: Well that changes everything.

Boone *laughs*: Oh, Freddy. We do have fun. Speaking of, how about it? You wanna hop on over to the far side of the world and bail my finely curved and plushly padded ass out of the fire, before the nefarious evildoers who are after me do unseemly and deplorable things to it and also to my organs?

Dick: And here I thought nefarious evildoer was your job description. Someone’s gunning for your head and your title? Tough day you’re having, chum.

Boone: Its the world we live in, mate. Job security just ain’t what it used to be.

Dick: Not sure if that’s the world’s fault or more just something to do with your particular line of work. If only there had been someone at some point in your life who could have warned you about your profession’s usual stats on job security. Oh wait.

Boone: I know, I know. Listen, as dazzling a pairing as my pecs-tastic physique and scintillating intellect may be, I pale before your perfection, old buddy. Be a pal and try not to hold that against me, will you? Tell you what. You come help me out of this little old bind I’ve gotten myself into through no real fault of my own, and I’ll let you give me one of those judgmental stares you’re so fond of, and you can say you told me so. Actually, you know what, for a limited one time only offer, I’ll even throw in a free spanking!

Dick: You’re an idiot.

Boone: I know, who am I kidding. I’d let you put me over your knee any day. Really, its your own fault. When all your stern talk of discipline and punishment makes bad boys like me go weak in the knees and swoon, how can we possibly be expected to keep to the straight or narrow?

Dick: ....why do I get the feeling you didn’t just know I was here, but that my whole family is present and listening too?

Boone: In my defense, I distinctly recall you being the one to tell me to get a hobby, last time we tangoed in Paris.

Dick: I was talking about things to occupy your time without killing people, not inviting you to occupy your time making my life miserable. And it was Chicago, not Paris.

Boone: Well then you should have been more specific. And I know it was Chicago, you moron. Ugh. I may kill people, but you’re murder on a theme. God, you can be such a peasant sometimes.

Dick: This from the guy who....you know what? No. Stop. I’m not getting sucked into this again with you. Get to the point, Boone. Fine, you landed your ass in more trouble than even you can handle, for once. Why is this my problem, and what would possibly make you think I would help you out of a mess you made and probably more than deserve to reap the consequences of?

Boone: Because you’re a goshdarn hero, Dickie, and a better man than me, remember? And because you’re not doing it for Shrike the mercenary, you’re doing it for your old buddy Boone. That you couldn’t save from himself and will hate yourself for not saving now, if I do wind up dead and you happen to ask yourself if you could have stopped this. Which, of course, we both know you will. So should we just skip to the part where you do what we both know you’re gonna do in the end anyway, because you can’t be anyone other than who you are anymore than I can be anyone other than who I am, no matter how much either of us wants to pretend otherwise? Or do you want to dance this out a few more songs first?

Dick: Send the situation details and coordinates to the email address I gave you last time. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and if you so much as think as killing someone while I’m there, you won’t like where I drop you off.

Boone: Mmm. Fair enough. For all the perkiness of your perky parts, your taste in venues has always been shit. You can cool your jets by at least five degrees, Mister Superhero Sir. I’m in no rush to enjoy the accommodations of Bludhaven Penitentiary a second time. They didn’t even have HBO. Barbarians.

Dick: And Boone? After I do this, you and I are through. You stay out of my way from now on, and I’ll do the same. Clear?

Boone: Oh, Freddy. Tell yourself whatever you want to, but we both know that you and I won’t be through until the day one of us dies. I’ll owe you one, let’s go with that. Alright, check your email, just sent the sitch. I’ll see you when you get here, til then this booty’s gotta bounce! Ta!

The speaker hisses static as the phone disconnects. There’s awkward silence as nobody has any clue what to say and Dick very conspicuously checks his email on his phone.

Bruce: This Boone...he’s the mercenary and occasional assassin Shrike? 

Dick just nods, his shoulders tense and uncomfortable. Everybody else eyes each other warily, except for Cassandra and Tim who exchange particularly confused glances. They fought a mercenary named Shrike once, years ago, but nobody had ever said there was anything significant about him, or hinted there was any reason he and their oldest brother should have any basis for having a conversation like...whatever that just was. 

Not to mention, even Bruce sounds weird now. Like he’s just as awkward and uncomfortable as the rest of them look and feel. And Bruce only sounds uncomfortable when talking about like. Feelings and stuff. Family situations. Never cases. Never....the bad guys.

Bruce: ....he was one of the other students at Vengeance Academy, I take it.

Dick still doesn’t look up from his phone. His voice is resigned and weary. This is not a discussion he wants to have, his siblings can tell that much. Even if the rest is all just gibberish to them.

Dick: He ended up with the League after Shrike died. Trained with them for a few years, then eventually broke off to do his own thing. Called himself Shrike in honor of....our old teacher. He was. Particularly attached to him.

Bruce: ....you...kept in touch, then?

Dick barks out a startled laugh, full of too many other emotions to put a name to.

Dick: Hardly. We’ve just....run into each other over the years since then. He figured out who I was a long time ago, when he recognized my picture in some puff piece online, about you taking me in and your charity work with kids’ programs after that. And he recognized my fighting style as Nightwing, so. It was just inevitable we’d cross paths, I guess. There’s just. There’s stuff between us that never got settled, you know?

Bruce: ...I’d almost forgotten that was where you first honed your skills with your escrima sticks. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Who he was...that you’d encountered him? Since...those days.

Dick finally looks up and studies Bruce carefully. Then he looks off to the side and sighs.

Dick: Because you’d forgotten that was where I first honed certain skills. And I didn’t particularly want to remind you, I guess.

He sighs again and shakes his head as Bruce looks about to respond.

Dick: Bruce, I....look, we’ve both put a lot of years and effort into not talking about this. Seems a shame to break our streak now. Can we just....this is just something I have to do, and I kinda need it not to be anything more than that right now. It’s just. I have to go.

Bruce: ....I understand.

Dick barks out another uncharacteristic laugh, sharp and reproachful, but at who, it’d be impossible for even him to say.

Dick: I doubt that. I don’t even understand. But I appreciate you trying to, and...letting this wait for another time. Like I said. I have to go. Sorry I can’t help out more with the case. I’ll see you all later.

Damian: Grayson, don’t be absurd! You can’t go! Whoever that man was, he’s clearly manipulating you!

Dick shakes his head and laughs one more time, but here, at least, its a bit warmer, a bit closer to his usual humor. He stops to ruffle his youngest brother’s hair as he passes him, before continuing on towards where his motorcycle is parked along the main causeway to the cave’s entrance.

Dick: Trust me, kiddo, I know. He’s not even trying to be subtle. It’s so....tacky.

All too soon, his engine roars to life, and then his cycle and its passenger speed out of the cave leaving behind only shadows, echoes, and the backglow of his headlights, all of which soon die away themselves.

In their wake, all eyes turn as one to Bruce, still seated in front of the Batcomputer.

Duke: I have questions.

Jason: I have comments.

Tim: I have concerns.

Bruce sighs.

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

 Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila 

Author’s Note: Exactly what it says on the can. I’ve had this idea kicking around my head for a while, getting in the way of finishing the next chapter of Philtatos and I figured if I started jotting down the basics of it, I could stop thinking about it. 

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Despite the carefully cultivated exterior of a hardened criminal, Jason Todd is remarkably straight edge.

After what happened to his mother, drugs were never going to be a thing; he stopped smoking long before a lunatic clown beat him to death; and though his preferred hangouts tend to be bars, that’s more to keep an eye out for trouble than for slinging back shots.

There are exceptions, of course.

Coping with any kind of murder that involves kids. The days immediately following another one of Joker’s breakouts and inevitable mind games. Some of the worse fights with Bruce. And certain anniversaries.

Days like today, when all he is boils down to traumatic flashbacks of metal caving in his lungs and high-pitched laughter, and mounting fear turned to begging for the end. Circular thoughts and ‘what-ifs’ that he ignores or pushes to the back of his mind every other day of the year are stronger now, now occupy his mind with the stubbornness of a cancer.

Today’s a day for hard whiskey and keep it coming until he can’t see straight, for everything to melt away behind a fog of false levity until he wakes up again and he can forget for another year.

He’s nearing that point when his phone rings.

It’s not the harsh tune of I Hate Everything About You that he’s programmed for any of the Bats civilian phone lines, but a generic ringtone. Not a call to offer sympathy, but not an emergency.

(If they couldn’t reach the comm in his helmet, they’d just show up.)

He ignores it, goes back to his drink.

There’s a brief silence once it goes to voicemail, and then ten seconds later it rings again. The bartender is giving him a look with raised eyebrows, but Jason just gestures for another finger of whiskey.

Around the fifth time, Jason picks up the phone if only to turn the damn thing off or chuck it at a wall, but pauses at the Caller ID—Gotham General.

What the hell…?

No one he knows would contact him on a public hospital line.

His thumbs fumble as he accepts the call, but even as he barks out, “What?”, he hears a static click and the electronic monotone of his voicemail bidding the incoming caller leave a message.

There’s a pause, and then a stranger’s tired voice comes on the line.

“This message is for Jason Ardila. I’m Dr. Kerry at Gotham General Hospital. We have you listed as the primary contact for Isabel Ardila.” Jason straightens up as best he can at this. “I have news regarding your wife’s condition. It would be best if you came to the hospital as soon as possible. You can reach me at—”

He rattles off a number but Jason doesn’t catch it, mind whirling.

Isabel? Emergency contact? What the hell? Wife? Even more what the hell. At least she knew not to give his real name, but...again, why call him? They aren’t exactly close, and he hasn’t seen or spoke to Isabel since that thing at Elysium.

That was…what…last July?

He counts back again, needing to check his math against his alcohol muzzled brain. In any case, it’s a few months shy of a year, which makes it more than random she’s calling him now.

Wait…

“—can’t make it here within the next two hours, please contact a hospital representative to assist you.”

The message ends. 

Jason stares blearily at the phone for several minutes, trying to put his thoughts in order.

Something needles at the back of his mind, and his thumb smudges across the screen to open his browser, pulling up Gotham General’s staff directory. It takes longer than he’d like to navigate, squinting at text that’s far too small before he remembers he can resize that shit, and finally he locates—

Dr. David Kerry, M.D., F.A.C. S., Obstetrician.

Jason’s stomach lurches.

He counts back again.

April back to July.

Almost nine months.

Nine months since the last time he and Isabel—

No. No way, it must be a coincidence. Probably she just got into some trouble. Trouble that needs the Red Hood to solve, and that’s why she named me as contact.

He scrubs a hand down his face, trying for sobriety.

But then why didn’t she call me and tell me? Why wait until she’s at the goddamn hospital?

And under the care of an obstetrician. That’s…the thing he’s most concerned about.

There’s no way. She said she was seeing someone, if there were anything, it would have to do with him. But then…why contact me and not him?

He’s dimly aware of shrugging his jacket back on, of throwing a bunch of bills on the bar-top and wandering out despite the barkeeper saying something to him. Of getting out into the chill and damp spring air, trying to hail a cab, because yeah, the bike he left in the alley has an autopilot feature, but Jason doesn’t feel like risking road rash if he slips off it on a sharp turn. Which he might do, considering he drops his wallet twice trying to put it back in his jacket.

Also, if he and Isabel need to make a quick exit if she’s hurt, it will be easier for him to steal a car later than try to put her on a bike. And if she’s not alone—

Don’t think about it.

As he gets his wallet back in his pocket, he remembers he basically gave the barkeep all his cash, and shit, does he even have anything left? This means he’s going to waste time going back in and taking it back since the guy hasn’t exactly followed him out to return it. Probably thinks it’s a tip or—

Jason stiffens, that sixth sense honed from a childhood on the street and training under the most paranoid man in the world bypassing his otherwise alcohol clouded senses to warn him. Someone’s behind him.

“Whoever you are, you really don’t want to test me right now,” he growls, speech only a little slurred. Shit-faced or not, he’s still a better fighter than any low-tier thug in Gotham.

“I’m not testing anything, except how much your situational awareness sucks when you’re drunk.”

The voice is dry and familiar, and Jason turns around, half-expecting to come face to face with Red Robin crouched in the shadows. Instead, Tim Drake is several feet away, dressed casually and leaning against a sports car that has no business idling on the streets of Burnley.

Jason didn’t hear him pull up, which means he’s been here a while—and he didn’t notice him.

Need to sober up now.

“The hell are you doing here, Drake?” he snarls to cover up his obvious impaired reactions.  

“It’s the 27th,” the younger man says, slow and careful. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Of course, he knows what day it is…

Jason bares his teeth. “In case I do something crazy? Decide to go on a rampage?”

“In case you needed a ride home or someone to talk to or just make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit,” Drake retorts.

“Aren’t you the little do-gooder. How’d you even find me?”

“Roy Harper called me out of the blue. He told me someone should check in on you, and he figured for some reason I’m the best candidate to look in on you.” He shrugs and there’s a frown of confusion on his face. “Don’t know why he thinks so, considering our history.”

Jason suspects it has to do with Drake being the one who got him the information needed to find and save Roy’s ass in Qurac, but he’s not about to say so.  

“Doesn’t answer how you knew I was here.”

Drake raises an eyebrow at that because, yeah, they both know how he found him.

Damn stalker.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You found me. You saw me. Now step off, I’m trying to get a cab.”

He turns away and starts heading up the street to the busier intersection.

“Headed to another bar?” Drake wants to know, uncertain, like he’s trying not to sound judgemental.  

“No, screw you very much, I need to get to Gotham General.”

And it’s further proof of how much his mind and his reflexes are on a roller coaster tonight, because he’s actually started the hand that falls upon his shoulder. As it turns him around, he instinctively lashes out with a right hook, but Drake dodges it with embarrassing ease.

His eyes are raking over Jason, up-and-down, re-assessing. “You hurt?”

He’s fishing, Jason thinks; none of them have gone to the hospital for an injury that wasn’t faked in years, least of all Bruce Wayne’s legally dead ex-son. Perhaps that’s why he’s able to detect the genuine concern in the bland question. It’s not laid on as thickly as Dick might do, or tinged with the hint of judgement and self-recrimination from Bruce.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself admitting, “Someone I know might be.”

The younger man nods, understanding; some of the intentness leaves his face.

“I could give you a ride,” he offers, nodding his head at the car. “I could get you there faster than a cab could.”

It’s on the tip of Jason’s tongue to refuse, before he remembers he has no cash.

He glances back at the bar once more, wondering if it’s the better option to “haggle” with the barkeep to get his money back. Suspects that will lead to a fight, which if Drake insists on hanging around (which he suspects he will, even if it’s just watching him from a distance, the creep) he’ll probably intervene in and—

This is getting too complicated.

“Fine,” he sighs at last, earning a blink of surprise from Drake.

No kidding. I’m surprised, too.

Still, if there’s anything going down at the hospital, if this is a trap or something, and Jason needs to ensure Isabel gets out alright, however much he is off his game right now, having Red Robin backing him up wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.

It’s not like they’ve never worked together before, or kicked ass doing it.

Jason course corrects once more, heading for the car. Still, he can’t help making a comment, just to show how much he’d rather not be doing this. “But if we’re doing this chauffeuring thing, you’re gonna keep your mouth shut about it. And fork over whatever coffee I know you have in that shitbox of yours.”

Tim is the one who bares his teeth this time, a sharp, cold smile that Jason suspects is the last thing his enemies ever see. “Call my car a shitbox again, and you can walk.”

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