#and he just hands Batman a file on all his weaknesses and how to beat him if he ever goes evil

[tales-of-the-ghost-zone]

The anti ecto laws go into effect just before S2E2 “Doctors Disorders”. So when Danny’s entire class, including Sam and Tucker, becomes sick with ghost flu and start exhibiting ghost powers, the GIW swoop in and cart all the sick kids off to a GIW facility. They claim the kids are all ecto contaminated and therefore fall under the anti ecto laws! And the GIW aren’t concerned with trying to help the kids get better. Instead they’re experimenting on them. Danny knows he can’t get into the GIW facility to rescue them on his own without getting captured. So he does the only thing he can do, he goes to the Justice League for help.

The Justice League, and the Justice Dark are all together in the watchtower for a meeting when Danny shows up. He’s an absolute mess because his friends and classmates have all been taken by the GIW. And he latches onto the first person in the room that he sees. Which just so happens to be Batman. Now Batman has a sobbing hysterical ghost child clinging to him! Everyone is super confused. It takes them half an hour to calm Danny down enough that he can explain what the problem is.

When they find out about the anti ecto laws and what the GIW have done they are all horrified and pissed!! They immediately set out to rescue Danny’s classmates. And if they just so happen to accidentally destroy the GIW facility along the way well none of them are to broken up about it. After the kids are all rescued, cured from the ghost flu, and returned to their parents, the Justice League sets out to get the anti ecto laws repealed. They reveal to the whole world just what the GIW did to a whole class of innocent human children while using the anti ecto laws as cover to do it! The whole world is outraged! It only takes two days for the laws to be repealed, and for the GIW to be permanently disbanded.

A few days later Danny Phantom does a live tv interview where he answers questions about ghosts and the ghost zone. He hopes that this will help people better understand ghosts and their true nature.

[batsandbugs]

A Kiss With a Fist

AN: Hey everyone another fic coming at you! This is for the Maribat Drabble Exchange hosted by @eat0crow I’m so excited to be participating! My fic was for @pixiebuggiewrites​ who wanted a Daminette soulmate fic. Sorry I couldn’t squeeze anybody else in here it was already getting pretty long! I hope you all enjoy! You can also read it here on ao3! (Pictures are NOT mine)

Damian stormed away from the hotel, aggressively zipping his coat. He didn’t care where he was going, only that it was away from here.

He didn’t want to be in Paris. He didn’t want to watch out for incompetent amateurs. He didn’t want to ‘control your anger, Damian’. He wanted to be sent home.

The calm night taunted him, the Parisian streets were too bight and too clean, resembling nothing like his dark city. He missed patrolling, he missed his animals, hell, a part of him (a small, barely negligible part he would never admit to) even missed his siblings. But no, he was stuck here, under his father’s orders until the situation in Paris drew to a conclusion.

Considering it took five years for outside help to be even called in, he had no clue how long the mission would last. He still hadn’t met the so-called-heroes of Paris, but the research he conducted showed they were ill-trained, undisciplined, and relying on so much luck it was a fucking miracle their city wasn’t a smoking ruin by now.

He sighed, sticking his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He regretted not grabbing his gloves in his storm out. He’d been so irritated at his father that even though the man was on the other side of a screen, half-way across an ocean, Damian needed to physically leave to calm his anger. It left him little time to grab essentials for a chilly winter night like a hat, or gloves. He considered himself lucky for remembering to grab a coat at all.

He wandered for a solid hour, the cold sinking into his bones chilling the raging inferno that always seemed to bubble inside him. By the time he no longer wanted to scream at anyone, he was sufficiently lost, considering he hadn’t taken his phone with him either.

Coming to rest on a bridge he took a seat on a small bench. He puffed a warm breath of air into his chilly hands rubbing them together. Nighttime in Paris was so… different compared to Gotham. While big cities never truly slept, this was positively peaceful in comparison to what he was used to. He hadn’t even heard a single sound of ruckus or distress, which seemed strange considering the city was currently besieged by a magical butterfly terrorist.

Damian inwardly scoffed. Butterfly terrorist. True, being a Gothamite meant no room to judge, but he found it hard to think of a stranger string of words.

He sighed; Damian didn’t even know what his father wanted him to do here. Sure, he knew French and was a proficient fighter, but what could that even lend to the situation? They needed a detective, and, as much as he hated to admit it, Drake would have been the better option in that department. Unfortunately, he was off-world. Grayson was dealing with a problem in Hong Kong with Cass. Brown was paired with the rest of the Sirens taking care of Gotham along with Batman, and Todd…

Well, even he recognized what an awful choice Todd would be against a villain who literally used strong negative emotions as his weapon of choice. Damian had a temper; Todd was a ticking-time-bomb.

A high-pitched screech cut through the night air, before being noticeably muffled. Damian was on his feet and running before he even mentally acknowledged it. The thud of his boots on the cobblestone bridge sent small shocks through his legs. Another large clatter directed him off to a side street a couple of feet away. Three men had cornered a tiny slip of a woman, who held her purse like a weapon.

Damian saw red. “Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” he yelled in French. There was one benefit to being in a foreign city, Damian did not have to play the part of a clueless rich kid who couldn’t hold his own in a fight.

The brutes turned to him and grinned mean smiles. One guy stepped forward. “Come on man, we’re just having a little fun. You can join if you-” Damian cut off the disgusting words with a jab to the nose. Then he spun around, sweeping the second guy’s feet from underneath him, hitting him with a punch to the face to knock him out cold. The first guy hadn’t lost consciousness, but he was doubled over which allowed Damian to knee him in the stomach. Another punch to the face and he was out cold too.

He turned to finish off the last guy, only to see the woman roundhouse kicking him to the head. The burly man fell with a thud. The alley turned eerily silent, the only sounds coming from the sharp breaths of both Damian and the girl. His pulse fluttered fast; the heat of the battle warmed his chilled limbs.

A red purse laid on the ground near his feet. Picking it up he walked over to the small woman, no teen she looked about his age, who was still sharply breathing.

“Here, this is-” a blur is all he saw before a sharp pain spread across his nose.

Did she-

Did she just punch him in the face?

The shock of it sent him sprawling onto the ground, and he blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. Damian cradled his throbbing nose, anger bubbled once more under his skin before-

*Zing*  

The connection hit him like a train. A deep well of rightness spreading through him. He looked up through bleary eyes to find the woman staring at him in similar shock.

“You’re my soulmate,” they sputtered at each other.

Damian inwardly groaned. The League made initiates kill their soulmate should they ever find them to prove their loyalty. He grew up never wanting to find his soulmate, knowing they would serve as nothing but a distraction and weakness. Even when he joined his father, the idea seemed an unneeded liability. Sure, his brothers found their soulmates within the superhero community, but what were the chances he would too?

A small whimper escaped the mouth of the guy lying unconscious on the ground, knocked out by the woman the universe thought would be the perfect match for him. Damian tilted his head. She might not be a superhero, but maybe the universe knew him better than he first imagined.

“OhmygoshIamsosorry!” the flood of words spilled from his soulmate’s mouth, her face a deep shade of red. “I was just-”

“Acting on instinct and adrenaline? Appropriate, considering the threat you just faced,” he said without anger. “Your right hook is sufficiently adequate.”

“Um… thanks? Are you alright though?” She extended a hand to help him off the ground. He took it, his larger hand enveloped hers, but she showed a surprising amount of strength as she pulled him up. The contact sent another *zing* through his body, smaller and more subdued though. Damian found himself reluctant to let go.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” He suffered worse in training before. With the initial pain dissipated, all that was left was a dull throbbing that would be gone by morning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said with a bright smile. He took the chance to finally observe his soulmate. She was small, couldn’t be more than 5’2, which meant at 6’1 he towered over her. She was of mixed descent, with dark hair spilling over her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. Her arms and legs were toned with muscle, and she held herself with grace and confidence. She wore a face of tasteful makeup and was clothed in a short red dress and a pair of strappy heels with no jacket in sight. He had no clue how she wasn’t freezing to death.

Her smile dimmed a bit. “Actually, no, I’ve had better days. Today has kinda been a perfect disaster; first I’m late for school, then I forgot my homework, and my class bully decided it was a pick-on-Marinette day. There’s a three-hour Akuma fight, involving mind-control, which is always a total drag. I finally get home to find my parents worried sick about me because I hadn’t answered my phone which got destroyed at the beginning of the fight. I go to my class’s senior Valentine’s day dance hoping to finally confess to the guy I’ve had a crush on for years, only to get humiliated because he already has a girlfriend, and everyone else in my class knew and decided not to tell me. When I get away not to cause a scene, not only do I forget my jacket, but I also get attacked by three bumbling idiots with more mouths than brains.” She chuckled, hollow and verging on manic.

Damian stood there, unsure how to take all of that. He filed away the fact she was being bullied, and that she commonly dealt with Akuma attacks. Both equally important, as far as he was concerned.

“Now, here I am, standing in front of my gorgeous soulmate I punched in the face, after beating up said earlier idiots, rambling my mouth off because I don’t know the meaning of the word chill. Yep! I’ve certainly had better days. Ohmygoshimatotalmesskillmenow.” She muttered the last part into her hands, but Damian understood her all the same.

He would come back to the gorgeous thing later.

“…Do you want my jacket? You look cold.” It wasn’t the smoothest thing he could have said, nor the most appropriate considering the mess of a day she’d had. However, the manners Alfred drilled into his brain came knocking and if he was cold with a turtle-neck long-sleeved shirt and a jacket, she must be freezing in all that… nothingness. He averted his eyes from her exposed skin, looking at her face instead.

His soulmate looked at him for a long moment, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“You know what, yeah, a jacket would be nice,” she said in a tired voice. Damian shed his coat quickly, not minding the sharp sting of cold that hit him. He helped his soulmate into the sleeves and took an odd little pleasure in seeing how tiny she looked in the folds of his jacket.  

“I’m Marinette, by the way, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She wrapped the jacket closer cuddling into the heat. “Sorry for kinda freaking out on you there.”

“The kind of day you’ve had has surely broken lesser mortals. Any coping method is your due. I’m Damian, Damian Wayne. It’s a pleasure to meet you Marinette.” He smiles, although the gesture feels odd, trying to appear non-threatening. While his soulmate (and maybe he was coming around to this faster than he thought possible) was obviously skilled at dealing with a variety of stressors, he didn’t want to add any more and risk her being akumatized.

“You as well Damian.” She shivered despite the added protection of his coat, as a gust of wind swept through the alleyway. “As much fun as this conversation has been, it might be best for us to get out of the cold.”

“Indeed. What will we do with these inconveniences?” he asked, poking one of the guys with the tip of his boot.

She sighed, picking her purse from the ground where he’d dropped it. “We’ll call the police to come pick them up. They’ll be cold, but fine.”

Damian scowled, “It’s better than they deserve.” He sneered at the guy who offered for Damian to join them. Join them in assaulting this tiny, bright girl, who’d been through enough. His soulmate. The bubbling rage began anew, and he wished he’d done more than just knock them unconscious, they deserved far worse for thinking, daring, to touch-

A small hand rested on his arm, dragging him out of his violent thoughts. “I’m fine Damian. Even if you hadn’t arrived, I would have been fine. I can hold my own in a fight. This is Paris after all.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “Fine. We’ll leave them to their fates.” And if their fates happened to involve complete ruination of their online lives, credit scores, and secure information? Well, that was hardly his fault, now was it?

“There’s a good café opened late around the corner. Would you- would you like to go there?” Marinette asked.

Damian smiled at the tentative offer. “I would very much enjoy that, yes. I’ve been out for longer than I should, coffee would be great right about now.” She giggled and he felt his stomach flutter. Funny, giggling always annoyed him, but that bright clear sound... he could grow used to that.

Walking out of the dark alley, listening to Marinette talk to the police on her phone, Damian sighed. The streets no longer felt too clean, or the lights too bright. Yes, he was colder, and yes this was a complication, but for some reason, Damian could not bring himself to care.

Maybe Paris wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek Day 1 (6-13): Truth serum | Damian Wayne Protection Squad™ | Best friends to lovers

Note: Rushed. I'm sure it's still the 13th somewhere.

Warnings: kidnapping, nonconsensual drugging, needles.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick wakes to the taste of blood on his tongue.

Thankfully, after slowly moving his tongue around, it's just because he bit the inside of his cheek sometime between when he was knocked out and when he woke up. His head pounds like a war-drum with his heart as he tries to get ahold of his situation. Without opening his eyes, he assess his arms are restrained behind his back and he's sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair. His legs are also tied to the chair, keeping him from running.

The suit he wears feels suffocating, proof that—once again—him wearing Batman's cowl isn't some sort of sick joke. However, his shoulders are a bit lighter suggesting his cape has been taken. Not that he'll mourn it.

His cowl is on. He silently curses himself for not checking that first. It would be the first thing Bruce checked.

He always prioritized the identity. The mission. Secrecy before safety, Gotham before everything else. Not injuries, not friends, not family, partners-

Dick's eyes fly open, reminding him of the real thing he should have checked for first.

"Robin," he gasps out loud, looking wildly around the room and tugging on the ropes holding his back to the chair.

The room is dark and small, the walls made of cinder bricks that have water mold where it connects to the cement floor. In front of him is a metal table with a black, palm sized box placed on top. Dick ignores that for now and looks to his side, only relaxing when he finds Damian to his right, tied similarly to another chair with his chin to his chest. Only unconscious, Dick notes as he watches his stomach rise and fall.

However, anxiety flutters in his gut when he sees there's a dried trail of blood running down the side of his head.

"Robin," he tries again, knowing at the back of his head that Bruce would be telling him to be quiet. Check for cameras. Look for an escape route. Don't let them know you're awake until you have a plan-

Dick shakes his head. Damian could have a concussion, and that takes priority. Dick could have one as well, considering how badly his head hurts, but Damian is only ten years old and Dick knows better than anyone the lingering effects injuries could have when you're a child.

He presses his feet to the ground and pushes, attempting to slide closer to his protege. He does nothing more than jolt in place. There's not enough leverage.

However, it seems the sound of the metal scraping against the ground is enough to wake up the boy. He comes to with a small groan and a pain laced crease between his brow.

"Robin," Dick repeats a third time. He can do nothing but sit as Damian blinks slowly behind his mask; his shoulders tensing as he too notices the restraints.

Damian opens his mouth, but before any words could leave there's a loud clang. The door in front of Dick and Damian, on the other side of the table, swings open.

In walks three men; two are unfamiliar, but the third Dick recognizes from the case files he and Damian got from Gordon about a week ago. Jonas Gibbs. Known arms dealer and smuggler. He's made his moves in Gotham these past few weeks, getting the police and public nervous about shootings with illegal guns. Batman and Robin had finally pinned down the date, time, and location of his next shipment and intended to take him down then, but he was smart and had hired help from various mercenaries that Dick could confidently bet used to be in the military before they were dishonorably discharged.

The way they moved, worked, and attacked was too strategic and planned. It was only a matter of time before one got a lucky hit on Damian; a blow with the butt of their rifle across the kid's forehead. The barrel of the rifle pointed down at Damian's unconscious body was all it took for Dick to raise his hands in surrender.

And now they're here, in some damp old room. Tied to chairs. A table placed in front of them with a mysterious box set on top of it.

"Perfect timing," Gibbs says, grinning. The two other men, clearly mercs, stand on either side of him as he drags up a chair and sits on the other side of the table. "I was almost afraid we'd have to dump water to get you up."

"What do you want?" Dick growls. He must want something. He hasn't taken off the cowl… or at least he hasn't tried to get through the various traps to pull it off. It means he must need something that an identity reveal wouldn't give him.

"I'm glad you asked, Batman," Gibbs says, a grin spreading on his face. He looks to one of his goons and they immediately pull a small camera out from a bag they had around their shoulder. He points it at Dick.

Dick gets a bad feeling about all of this.

"I want you to tell your real name for the camera."

Dick glares. "Are you serious?"

"Very. One of my men has second degree burns thanks to that cowl of yours electrifying him. So, I decided I'll let you go without any more harm. You tell me your names, and I'll let you go. Won't even show the video to anyone. Well," he smirkes, "unless you get in my way."

Dick clenches his jaw. Besides him, Damian mumbles something.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three," Gibbs says, unphased. "Otherwise it will get unpleasant."

His eyes drift to the black box, signifying it's mysterious importance. Dick doesn't let it scare him. He's not going to let this low life criminal blackmail him... put him and his family in danger. He'll take whatever will be thrown at him until he can work out a way to escape.

Gibbs counts down, and he reaches zero uninterrupted.

"Well," Gibbs says, unsurprised. "The hard way then. Gag him."

The grunts move like clockwork, and before Dick knows it his face is being grabbed and held in place while the other shoves a rag into his mouth and wraps a layer of tape around his face to hold it there.

"Batman..." he hears Damian mumble as the grunts back up. He sounds out of it. In pain. Dick can only hope that the hit he took to his head isn't too serious.

Gibbs retakes his attention, however, when he reaches forward and presses a hatch on the side of the black box, flicking it open on spring-loaded hinges. What's inside makes Dick's stomach drop. A needle and a glass vial filled with a yellow tinted liquid lays neatly inside. One of the grunts lifts the needle and the vial to begin filling it up.

"Do you know what this is?" Gibbs asks as the liquid fills the syringe. "I've yet to test it on anyone, but word is from the man I bought it from... It forces the truth out of you." The grunts finishes filling the syringe and flicks the bubbles. "Truth serum."

Dick has no doubt that the serum will work. He only wonders why he's threatening with it while he's gagged.

When the grunt walks around the table to Damian, he doesn't wonder anymore.

He can only tug on his restraints as the grunt grabs Damian's arm to aim the needle. Damian, for his effort, attempts to pull away, but the weakness of his head injury and his restraints do nothing to stop the needle from entering the inside of his elbow.

"You could have done this the easy way, Batman," Gibbs says. Dick watches as the syringe is pressed down, pushing the liquid into Damian's body. "I never like getting children involved."

Damian squeezes his jaw shut and turns his head away from the needle in his arm. It only takes a moment before the grunt pulls the empty syringe out before returning to standing besides his leader. A bead of blood appears where the needle left Damian's skin, but the boy doesn't move.

The air feels solid. Dick can hardly breathe as he tries to conceal his panic. He wants nothing more than to get out of these restraints and punch Gibbs and his men into next year, but he can't reach anything useful to do so. All he can do is watch Damian sit stock still as drugs spread through his veins.

A minute passes as Gibbs sits there in smug silence. Then, when a few more moments pass, he speaks.

"Robin," he says. Damian flinches, but doesn't look his way. His jaw still clenched. The goon with the camera points it right at Damian. "Why don't we start with something easy? What's your favorite animal?"

Damian curls his fingers behind his back and keeps his jaw grinding shut.

"Tight lipped huh?" Gibbs chuckles. He doesn't look surprised. Or worried. "Don't worry, I was assured that once it's fully in your system, it will hurt more to say nothing. What's your favorite animal, Robin?"

Damian says nothing, but he looks ridged. Tense.

"You look uncomfortable, Robin. Do you feel it in your head? I promise it will get better when you stop resisting. Let's try something different while we wait. Are you from Gotham?"

Damian's knuckles must be white under his gloves.

"How about your favorite color? Is it blue?"

Damian breathes a shaky breath through his nose, and Dick's heart breaks. He works harder to find a weakness in his restraints.

"My, your resilience is admirable. Were you trained on this?" Gibbs asks. Damian remains stubborn, but Gibbs still doesn't look worried. "Who were you trained by?"

"The best," Damian whimpers, cutting himself off with a growl and shutting his jaw. Gibbs smiles.

"What's your favorite animal?"

Damian shakes his head, a frustrated cry caught in his throat.

This continues, Gibbs finding victory in the one slip and pressing with everything he's got. Dick doesn't know how long Damian can last like this, and he doesn't want to find out. With every passing second, Dick knows it's only a matter of time before Damian's lips loosen. No amount of training can beat a good concussion and drugs designed to make your lips loose.

"What grade are you? Do you have any friends?"

After each question, Dick can see more and more discomfort in Damian's position. He's beginning to fidget and whimper and Dick's... Dick's had enough.

"What's your favorite color, Robin?"

"Green," Damian says with strangled gasp, sounding horrified with himself.

Gibbs smirks like a predator, knowing he's finally won.

"What's your real name?"

Yeah. Dick's had enough. With a hard tug, the ropes around his wrists finally snap against where he's been rubbing at them with his gauntlets. Gibbs and his men can barely react before Dick's upon them, cutting away the rest of the ropes with a batarang from his belt. He makes quick work of them in their shock, knocking them out and leaving them on the floor in unconscious piles.

He almost bends to put cable ties on their arms and legs, but he hears a tight whimper behind him. The moment after, he's rushing over to Damian to undo the ropes.

"Are you okay?" Dick asks, cutting through the bonds.

Damian shakes his head. Dick almost kicks himself.

"It's okay," he quickly says. "No one can hear. Let it out."

He's almost afraid Damian will force himself to remain silent, but to his relief and heartache, Damian opens his mouth and lets out a heaving sob. "It hurts- it hurts-"

Dick finally undoes the ropes, then he pulls his kid in close to his chest. "Get it out," he soothes, rubbing Damian's back.

"Dogs-" Damian starts, dissolving into quick rambling breaths. Every question he had been asked begins to be answered. Dick holds him close and lets him get it out with his tears. Silently, he sends a message to Gordon to pick up Gibbs and his men, then he messages Alfred to get the med-bay and lab ready. Soon enough, Damian is silent except for pain laced gasps, he holds tight to Dick's chest as Dick lifts him up and stuffs the vial with extra serum into his belt.

"I got you," he says as Damian continues to cry all the way to the batmobile. "I got you."

[mochegato]

Pixie Spy

Chapter 5

Chapter 1    Chapter 4

Marinette laid on Nino’s living room floor studying the stolen Grimoire files on her tablet.  She had been staring at the same page for the last two hours, making little progress.  Just because she could translate the ancient text, it didn’t mean it was easy or quick.  In fact, it was headache inducing and with Adrien focusing on keeping them caught up on homework while she and Chloe were otherwise occupied, she was translating alone.  She knew there were amazing secrets held in the texts, the drawings promised amazing new powers for each of the miraculous, she just needed to decode them.  

She scrunched her eyes closed and rubbed them to clear her vision that had started crossing.  Now, she decided, was a perfect time to take a break.  She looked around the room for a distraction. Adrien was near her on the floor, leaning against the couch and working on the physics assignment they had received that day, having already finished the calculus assignment.  Alya, having already passed her research onto Chloe, was on the couch working on the French Lit homework. Nino was sprawled out on the couch with his feet propped up on Alya’s lap, not working on anything, staring off into space with a furrowed brow instead.  

Everyone was working quietly except for Chloe who was making her discontent with her surroundings abundantly clear through her frequent huffs and exaggerated movements.  She was sitting in a chair making notes in a notebook referencing her laptop occasionally.  She huffed and wiggled uncomfortably in the chair, “Tell me again why we have to do this here?” Chloe demanded, not bothering to mask her disgust with the middle class surroundings.

“We can’t meet in the hotel because we can’t take the chance the Waynes would see Marinette walking in the lobby or the hallway. We can’t meet at Adrien’s place because Asshole Dad.  We can’t meet at Marinette’s in case they’ve made her already.  That leaves my place or here and my place has the twins who are currently both grounded and bored so… that leaves here.” Alya explained calmly, not bothering to look up from her homework.

“Yeah, yeah, but couldn’t we have met at like a nice café or pub?” Chloe whined, rubbing her arms as though contact with the chair fabric were scratching her.

“And take the texts outside?” Adrien asked with a raised brow motioning toward Marinette.

“Plus until we know how much they know, it is probably best I’m not seen out more than absolutely necessary, hence the…” she indicated the oversized hoodie she had stolen from Kim some time ago she had been wearing all day, mostly with her hood up, completely enveloping her head.

“I thought that was so you could hide from Laurence…” Alya said with a sly grin.

“Or Noelle,” Adrien threw in.

“Or Ignace…” Chloe added, keeping her focus on her laptop.

“Okay stop.  Really, Chloe?  Wouldn’t you much rather talk about the throngs of people throwing themselves at you?” Marinette attempted to divert her to one of her favorite topics, herself.

“Oh sweetie, we don’t have that kind of time.” Chloe said throwing her ponytail over her shoulder.  “We’re just talking about the ten or twenty we know about willing to let you tie them up and beat them like a piñata then thank you for the privilege.”

“That sounds like a regular Saturday night for you, Chlo,” Alya grinned.

“I…I don’t know how to react to that.” Marinette scrunched her face in confusion.  “My first inclination is to say she’s exaggerating, but it’s Chloe and if anything she would underplay it.  Plus I am extremely not happy with that little insight into Chloe’s bedroom, so… I’m going to ignore this entire conversation.” Marinette said turning back to her tablet.

Adrien looked up from his notes for a few moments staring in thought at nothing, “Valid,” he nodded, turning back to his work as well.

Nino had stayed silent throughout the conversation staring instead unfocused at a spot on the floor for the past few minutes. Adrien glanced back at him with curiosity.  “Hey,” he smacked his hand into Nino’s leg, “you okay there?  You completely missed us teasing Marinette about her fans. That’s one of your favorite topics.”

“Ahhh, Laurence… yeah, that dude makes me nervous. Michel is cute though.  I could see that.” Marinette gave an affronted squawk. Nino continued without acknowledging her, “No, I was just thinking… we know Batman’s secret identity.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said uncertainly.

“And he doesn’t know ours.” Nino continued.

“Right,” Adrien encouraged still not sure where the conversation was going.

“And we have you and Chloe, both pretty famous and could easily end up at a party or event with at least one of them…” Nino mused thinking out loud.

“True.”

“So… how much can we mess with him about it without getting killed?” Nino asked raising his brow with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Dude!” Adrien exclaimed excitedly, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

“You want us to prank the Dark Knight?” Alya looked at him like he was crazy.

“Really?” Marinette deadpanned.

“Yeah, you’re right.  It is potentially fraught with danger.  We might need to bring Alix and Max in on this.” Nino nodded still thinking about how he could manage it.

Alya dropped her head into her hands, “Idiot.” She muttered shaking her head in her hands, not entirely sure if he was joking or not.  Honestly, either option was possible.

“Well, that makes you two perfect for each other,” Chloe deadpanned still focused on writing something down in her notebook missing the withering look Alya shot her.

“Okay Kim,” Marinette rolled her eyes at Nino.  She looked uncertain for a moment then pushed herself back until she was sitting on her heels and spoke hesitantly, “Or… we could discuss if we are still certain we don’t want the Batfamily here.  Are we sure we don’t want their help?”

“Yes, yes we are,” Alya replied, her voice bordering on disbelief that Marinette would even ask.  “We know what the Justice League is like.  We know what they’ve done and we have a damn good idea what they could do given half the chance.  We gave in on Constantine and look what happened.  We cannot trust them.”

“Think about the last few weeks, Marinette.  Think how much worse they would have been if those people had powers to begin with and understood the extent of their powers, how to push them, how to exploit them.  What to ask for from Hawkmoth to do the most damage?” Nino added.

“The bats don’t have superpowers.” Marinette defended.

“But they work with people who do.  They have strategized attack plans around people who have powers. They understand them and what’s most effective…” Chloe added barely looking up from her notepad.

“And they are incredibly well trained in combat and strategic planning… It would be hard enough without them having super powers. With them, we would be fucked.” Adrien added cutting in on Chloe’s statement.

“We are barely keeping up as it is.  If one of the bats of Justice League were to get akumatized…” Nino let the statement trail off, allowing everyone to use their imagination to fill in the rest.

“Exactly!  We are barely keeping up.  Do we need to consider getting help?  From someone with more experience and different skills?  From someone with experience using superpowers against an opponent?” Marinette ran a hand over her face, “I’m just… I’m getting scared. And I don’t know if that is because I’m seeing a pattern or if I’m just frustrated with where we are and desperate for any change.  And the more distance I have from it, the more I wonder if Constantine was right.  Is it time to bring someone in, but we’re just too scared to try something different?”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by a banal, obvious statement,” she glared at Adrien, “they have a good understanding of powers, their strengths and weaknesses, and how to strategize around them, which would make them powerful akumas, or incredibly advantageous assets against an akuma.”  Everyone stared at her in surprise.  “Stunned looks terrible on you.” She said making clear she was directing it to all of them.  “The silent awe of me is appropriate though.” She said sitting back in her chair only to immediately grunt and start squirming against the fabric again.

“It isn’t just the powers, I don’t trust them, especially Batman.  If we give them half the chance, I’m afraid they will try to take the miraculous because they think they could wield them and protect them better.” Adrien admitted.  

The group took a second to let both sides of the argument sink in, unsure how to move forward.  Both outcomes could lead to horrific outcomes that nobody wanted to allow. They were all afraid and they knew they were, but like Marinette, they didn’t know if the fear was holding them back from making a mistake or from having a breakthrough.

After a few moments of quiet, Nino broke the quiet in a soothing voice, “We have no way to know which way things will tilt.  Let’s see what we get from the files and reassess then. No reason to introduce more chaos until we know what we have to work with already.  Have you found anything yet?”

“A bit.  Ugh,” she said accepting the change of topic and looking at her notebook with disgust, “this would be so much easier if the kwamis could just tell us all the possible uses of the miraculous were and the ways they could be combined.”

“Yeah, but then Hawkmoth would have known too… and Mayura and Argus.” Tikki pointed out.

“That’s a horrifying thought.  I don’t think we could have taken Hawkmoth and Mayura when we started if they had known all their options.” Adrien shuttered thinking about it.

“That’s why they created the rule that kwami could only tell the very basic powers and responsibilities.  Anything more than that can only come from the Order, so if anyone stole a miraculous, they wouldn’t be able to effectively wield it, making it easier for trained wielders to get it back.”  Trixx said.

“A bit more effective back when there was an Order and masters who actually trained wielders, but you know, times change,” Plagg shrugged with a thinly disguised disgust.

“Okay but let me just say not having known this,” Marinette turned the tablet around for them to see the image of the dragon miraculous she had been studying, “was an option is extremely upsetting.”

“Dibs!” Nino called out, jumping up from the couch before anyone else could call it.

“Fuck you, I saw it first.  I’ve got dibs.  I’ve got plans for it.”  Marinette blew him off.

“No way, you’re going to see all of them first.” Nino pouted.

Marinette grinned at him, “Guardian” she singsonged.  

Trixx floated up closer to the tablet.  “Oh that one.  Yeah, everyone likes that one.  It’s actually just a variation of the power you know already so it is a lot easier to pick up than it looks.”

Plagg floated next to her to check it out too.  “If you like that one, just wait until you find out about…” his sentence was cut off by an overflow of green bubbles falling out of his mouth, causing him to glare at nothing and everything at the same time.

“Okay enough of that.  My turn.” Chloe announced turning her laptop to display pictures of each of the Waynes and their alter egos.

Adrien leaned forward to get a closer look at the images and suddenly his eyes got huge and he gasped, “Oh my God… in the name of all that is holy and good in this world, please tell me the one in the godawful, Red Skull wannabe mask is the one you were making heart eyes at all night.  Please, please, please…” Adrien begged Marinette.

Marinette refused to meet his eyes and pursed her lips, focusing intently on the laptop.  “No comment.”

“It is him! Can I please, please be there when you ‘discuss’ that mask with him before we kick him out?” Adrien said shaking with delight at the thought of it.

Marinette glared at him, “We are going to be focusing on getting them out of Paris without drawing further curiosity or ire, not their wardrobe.” She pointed out turning to Chloe with an expectant look trying to prompt her to continue but couldn’t stop herself from whipping back toward Adrien, “And, I don’t even know if he was even interested in me at all.  It’s far more likely they are concerned about the situation than he is about getting a date.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, “You’re not that stupid, Dupain-Cheng. The honeypotting wouldn’t have worked if he wasn’t interested.”

“I did NOT honeypot him…. And I still don’t know what that means!” Marinette yelled exasperated.

“Yeah, yeah.  But I get to be there right?” Adrien implored ignoring her annoyance and still not giving her a definition.  At this point, it was a matter of pride… or comedy.  Either way, he was dedicated to never telling her what it meant.

“Oooooo and me too,” Alya jumped in.

“You should just leave your com on so we can all hear.” Chloe commented with feigned disinterest.

“We should put it on speaker.  The kwamis will want to hear it too.” Nino agreed with a grin.

“I hate all of you,” Marinette grumbled crossing her arms in front of her as she pouted.

Adrien chuckled at her before putting her out of her misery, “Okay, Chlo.  What did you figure out?”

“So, I focused on Bruce Wayne, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.  I couldn’t get an identity on Spoiler and there is no public information on Cassandra Cain, who is probably Batgirl, so I could only look at her vigilante work.  But if Constantine is right, they are both still in Shanghai.  It is unlikely they would have brought them in just to talk with us.  So for tonight, they don’t matter.”  Chloe explained before continuing with her analysis.

“The rest of the Wayne family are a treasure trove of insecurities, pressure points, and triggers.  I’m just going to go over the biggest ones since we hopefully will only have to deal with them for a few minutes at the most.  These unstable assholes are definitely Hawkmoth’s wet dream. Extremely well trained and no control over their emotions.  All have extreme versions of insecurity complexes, but react differently.

“Bruce Thomas Wayne is a control freak.  His public persona isn’t much help.  As far as I can tell, most of it is a mask.  He pretends to be a drunk, irresponsible, billionaire playboy but we know he’s Batman so all that is bullshit.  What isn’t is that he is a good negotiator and actor, all of which means he can be a good manipulator and we know from his experience as Batman that he is extremely strategic.  Be suspect of anything he tells you.  His intentions appear to stem from a genuine concern with making lives better, but how much he is willing to listen to other people’s opinion of what constitutes better is questionable, especially after what we know of the Justice League’s actions. He has a history of enforcing his vision onto other people, whether they want it or not, of taking control.  He needs to be in control, or feel like he is so he can prepare for what is coming and make sure it doesn’t turn against him.

“The oldest, Richard John Grayson, has a martyr complex.  He’s so devoted to the saving people thing he became a cop in his civilian life as well, by all accounts an uncorrupt one, and that’s saying something in Gotham and Blüdhaven.  Takes on too much at one time trying to fix everything and feels responsible for every bad thing that happens, even if he wasn’t there… especially if he wasn’t there, to stop it.  If he only would have done whatever, then the bad thing wouldn’t have happened.  If only he was better, blah, blah, blah. Sound familiar?” she looks pointedly at Marinette.  “That’s his weakest spot.  He takes the blame.

“The next, Jason Peter Todd has abandonment issues.  He’s constantly waiting for people to walk away from him like his parents did.  There is something more there, I know there is, like whatever happened when he disappeared for a few years, but we don’t have access to that information. Ridiculously protective of kids on the street, I think because he essentially grew up on them himself. But, here’s the catch, he became a crime lord in order to protect them.  He is willing to go dark to protect people, so they never have to feel like he did and never have to do what he had to do.  He’s straightforward and aggressive.  He feels like everyone is going to walk away from him because he isn’t enough for them to stay.  He’s dangerous.

“The next, Timothy Jackson Drake has inadequacy issues. Wealthy, absentee parents who likely never treated him like anything more than a business asset.” She looked sympathetically at Adrien.  “He is a certified genius.  Started running Wayne Enterprises a few years ago.  He likes a challenge and is an incredible negotiator.  He likes working things out on his own.  He’s smart and curious.  He knows exactly what to ask in order to get the information he needs without you even knowing that’s what he did.  Be careful answering any questions or reacting to any statements from him.  He is constantly trying to prove himself so people will love him.  He takes any failure extremely personally because it means he doesn’t deserve love and a reminder that he isn’t who he thought he was and therefore not worthy.

“The youngest, Damian Wayne, known as the Ice Prince in Gotham, has a superiority complex.  Nobody gets close to him and nobody wants to.  He showed up in Gotham at age 10 with a fully-fledged attitude.  Everyone and everything is beneath him.  He also drives himself to extremes in order to confirm his superiority.  He insults and belittles others because he believes he should be superior to everyone around him, but he is afraid he isn’t and if he isn’t better, then he is significantly worse.”

The rest of the room looked at her sympathetically.  They all knew she wasn’t just talking about Damian. That was her up until a few years ago. She needed to believe she was better than everyone else and needed everyone around her to believe it too.  If she was better then she deserved her parents’ love.  If she had everyone else’s love, it made it easier to fool herself into believing her parents loved her as well, or blunt the feeling when she would realize just how much they didn’t.  But years of therapy, a higher purpose, and real friends that truly wanted the best for her but refused to take any shit from her, made her realize she didn’t need to be that person to deserve love.

“Also keep in mind there are likely significant trust issues going on here.” Chloe continued ignoring the looks from the rest of the room.  “There are a lot of reports of violence between Red Hood and Red Robin, Red Hood and Robin, Red Hood and… everyone actually, as well as Robin and Red Robin.  Based on fact that violence is higher immediately after a changing of the guard, I’d say the passing of the mantle from one Robin to another has never been consensual and likely contributed to their complexes.  They are held together by the thinnest of threads.  We can snap that if we need to… but I don’t think we want to go that far.  If we snap that… I don’t know how much damage that will do or if they will come back from it.” She cautioned hesitantly.

“Agreed.  I don’t want to go there.  There is plenty to use without going into the family issues, without causing irreparable damage.” Marinette concurred.  They didn’t want the Bat family in Paris but they didn’t want to destroy them either. She wasn’t willing to let herself or her team become monsters in order to stop them.  At the end of the day, they were ultimately all on the same team, they all wanted the same outcome, they just had different ways they wanted to get there… and different ideas about who got to decide that… and who should lead it…

“God these people need a hug not whatever that ‘family’ of theirs is providing each other.” Nino said aghast at the report.

“Marinette’s already on top of that, at least for one of them…” Alya smirked.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at her.

“I’m on top of that one,” Nino grinned, raising his hand.

“Oh God.  Seriously we need to investigate that brain bleach thing,” Marinette groaned squeezing her eyes shut trying to keep that image from appearing.

“Okay,” Adrien announced over everyone, “we all agree after this whole Hawkmoth thing is over, I get to kick Constantine’s ass and we all portal over to the Batcave and hug the insecure, unfairly cute, prickly, little echidnas until they feel better, right?” Adrien asked solemnly.

“Ugh, fine but I’m not hugging the gremlin.  Someone else gets that one,” Chloe called out throwing out her arms.

The room stilled as everyone else looked at each other, “Not it!” they all called at almost the exact same moment.

“Damn it,” Nino cried as he realized he had been a few seconds slower than everyone else.

“That’s what you get for being a turtle.  When the confrontation happens, I got the pampered rich kid.”  Chloe announced.  This was her area.  She knew just where to push kids like that, like her.  She knew exactly what to say to get them, her, to hit them at their most vulnerable.  To push just enough to make an impact without breaking them.

“No, Chloe.  We don’t want to tip our hand and we need you guys to stand sentry.  I want you, Alya, and Nino to hang back acting as scouts. This is likely to go bad and I need you guys in a triangular formation a block out watching for akumas.  Adrien and I will talk to them.”

“Alone?” Nino asked tentatively.  His job was to protect.  He didn’t like the idea of not being close enough to act if they should need it.

“They aren’t going to attack us, at least not physically.  And we will take an extra miraculous each.” Marinette smiled gently to placate him.

“Are you sure two is enough, m’lady?” Adrien asked curiously.

“You sure you aren’t just trying to keep it a bit more intimate for you and your boy?” Alya waggled her eyebrows.

Marinette glared at her, “Two should be enough.” She said ignoring the previous statement, “Combined with your two, we should be able to cover what we need to. It’s just the Batfamily.  We should be able to handle them with just one each even if they wanted to attack us.” She grinned at Adrien.  “Magic, gotta love it.”  

“Okay but when he calls you incompetent, which he will, you need to push back.  Point out the ways he’s failed.  He isn’t better than us, no matter what he thinks and the sooner you make him realize that, the sooner the real conversation can start.” Chloe warned.

“He is all of, what, 13?  We are not going to try to emotionally damage a child.” Nino stated flatly.

“As long as he thinks he is better than us, he won’t take us seriously.” Chloe warned.  Nino just glared back at her, not willing to give in on this.  “Fine, if you don’t want to point out his failings, then point out the most impressive things we’ve done that they haven’t.  That should suffice.  Not as effective, but it should get you there.”

“Okay, if we’re going to start discussing strategy, we’re going to need some sustenance.  Let’s get dinner ready so we can start discussing the plan for tonight,” Alya said throwing Nino’s legs off her lap.  Marinette and Nino followed her to the kitchen leaving Chloe and Adrien behind.

“You know, I noticed something with your analysis, Chloe,” Adrien started quietly keeping his eyes on their friends.

“I would hope you noticed more than just one thing,” Chloe chided him.

“Cute,” he said rolling his eyes, “Jason was the only one you said was dangerous, why is that?  

“I thought it was obvious?  The others have a limit.  I don’t know that he does.  And Marinette likes him, a lot.  He has a power to hurt her that the others don’t.  And they are very different.  They are both willing to go as far as necessary to help others, but to her that means killing herself, to him that means killing everyone else and himself,” She looked at him uncertainly, “and I’m not sure how she will react to that.”

“You think he would do that if we let him stay here?”

“I don’t know enough about him to predict what he will do.  He dialed it back to work with the bats again but… There really isn’t that much on him. I can tell you what Red Hood has done and that is bad, but not Jason Todd.  Since he disappeared, presumed dead, hell maybe he was, who knows what happens in Gotham, there is nothing on Jason Todd.  If you want me to try to predict, you can hop on down to Africa and see if you can borrow the kwami of prediction.  Until then, it’s all guesswork.  I need to see him.  See how he acts before I could even try.”

He stared at her for a few seconds a look of utter confusion on his face, “You think the kwami of prediction is in Africa?”

“Do you ever hear any miraculous related shit doing down in Africa?” she fixed him with a knowing stare.

“No,” he said cautiously

“Exactly, because they know what’s coming and they do their fucking jobs.” She winked at him and walked away.

<><><><><> 

Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Damian sat in the living area of Bruce’s hotel room in various states of suited up for the night.  They had barely had time to throw their bags in their rooms before meeting up to prepare for the night.  Damian was completely dressed and ready to go on a moment’s notice, as always more than ready to focus on business.  Bruce and Tim were in everything but their masks, choosing comfort until they had to leave.  Jason was sitting in a large chair in just his pants and shirt, attempting to look relaxed and nonchalant about them being so close to the girl he met at the gala. They were all staring at a massive screen linking them to Dick, Alfred, and Selina in the Batcave.  

“So, how’s Paris, boys?” Selina asked from her position lounging in one of the chairs.  “Meet any interesting people yet?  Jason?”  She added with a smirk.

“You know Bruce, all work and no play.  We haven’t gotten a chance to get out and meet anyone.  Doing this instead.” Jason shrugged with a practiced indifference, forcing himself to recline further back into the chair in an effort to seem casual.  

“Haven’t even gotten to see the Eiffel Tower yet?” She asked in mock sympathy.

“Oh, no, we saw it… from the plane.” Jason played along.

“You really should make sure to visit the Eiffel Tower while there, Master Bruce.”  Alfred threw in trying to downplay his amused smile.

“It’s not as impressive as you think it will be,” Tim muttered to nobody in particular.

“We’re here for a reason, Jason.  If we don’t want to lose today, we need to get started immediately…”  Bruce admonished him but upon looking up and seeing Alfred’s unimpressed look added, “We can get lunch near the Eiffel Tower tomorrow.  Better?” He looked to Alfred who switched to small smile instead.  Taking that as approval, Bruce nodded to Tim indicating they were ready for him to start his presentation.

Tim nodded to Bruce and moved to the front of the group and pulled up an image from the Ladyblog displaying five superheroes and their names on half of the screen.  “I’ve found a few local resources on the heroes we couldn’t see back home and have downloaded their contents and sent them back to you guys,” he said nodding toward the half of the screen displaying the cave, “so you can look through the information as well.  I’m not sure what is preventing the data from being accessible from America, but I suspect magic.” He glared at the screen like it personally offended him, “I hate magic.

“I’ve only had about 30 minutes to prepare so this is going to be brief.  I mainly focused on… well actually I mainly focused on figuring out the best resources for information, downloading copies of the site content, and sending a copy back to the batcomputer.  But after that, I mainly focused on figuring out who the heroes are so we know who we might run into and who to look for tonight.  

“The available information indicates a villain named Hawkmoth appeared in Paris roughly five years ago…”

“Huh. Where have I heard that before?” Jason muttered from his seat.

“… and the heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared at the same time.” Tim continued a bit louder this time.  “There appear to be five regular heroes and a few heroes that appear from time to time. Here are images of the heroes we know about,” he nodded to the image on the screen.  He switched briefly to another image displaying the lesser known heroes before returning to the image of the main five heroes.  “Not every battle is caught on camera and of the battles that are caught, most of the actual fighting is not caught, making it easy to miss heroes and villains in the fight.  The resources make it clear there likely are more heroes that we don’t know about, which I would say is a definite since your girlfriend didn’t appear on any of the sites.” He nodded toward Jason who just huffed and crossed his arms in response, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“The primary heroes are Ladybug and Chat Noir, with Ladybug as the leader.  Those are the two we need to convince if we want any information.  We know a few identities of past heroes, including a girl who lives in this hotel, Chloe Bourgeois.  She was a bee themed heroine named Queen Bee.  Since then another bee themed heroine has appeared and is one of the 5 regulars.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at the screen, “It looks like the same person.  Could it be her in a different costume?”

“I don’t think so,” Tim answered shaking his head, “When I was looking at her page on the sites I think I saw that she has been seen at the same time as the new bee hero.  I can analyze it more when I get more time, but the local experts don’t appear to think they are.  We don’t know the identity of the new bee.”

“You think they look similar?” Dick asked incredulously.  “You’re crazy.  Their costume, hair color, eye color, height, everything is different.”  Jason looked between Dick and the image of the two bee wielders a few times.  One of them was crazy, he just wasn’t sure which one of them it was.

“Figure out where she lives then you should arrange to run into her tomorrow.” Bruce said nodding toward Tim.

Tim gave a single nod to Bruce accepting the assignment.  “There seems to have been a massive overhaul of heroes about a year into the fight.  All of the heroes except Ladybug and Chat Noir were replaced with new heroes.  No explanation was given… or maybe there is one I just haven’t found it yet.”

Damian scoffed, “There’s one villain and five or more heroes and they haven’t been able to take him down?  Pathetic. These are the people entrusted with objects capable to destroying the world?”

“I haven’t been able to get much information yet so we don’t know exactly what is going on but it looks like there is more than just Hawkmoth.  He might be a leader or mastermind behind the villains.  I’ve seen at least a few other villain names mentioned when looking up the heroes.”

“Do we think they all have a miraculous as well?” Dick asked.

“Not sure.  I haven’t gotten that far yet, but it stands to reason.” Tim nodded absentmindedly.

Jason moved closer to the screen staring intently at the pictures of Ladybug from different years.  There was something familiar about her but there was something else sitting on the edge of his consciousness, he just needed to figure out what his subconscious was trying to tell him.  His eyebrows furrowed and he narrowed his eyes trying to block out anything but the images.  His eyes widened as the realization suddenly hit him, “Mother fucker!”  He whipped around to Tim, “Do we have any indication of how old these heroes are?  They look like babies in those older pictures.”

Tim shrugged, “Haven’t gotten that far yet so, not sure.  But I glanced at a section on Ladybug and Chat Noir throughout history so at least for them, somewhere between 5 and 5000.  I should have a better idea tomorrow after I’ve had a chance to read a bit more.”  He squinted at the pictures, “You think they look young?”

“You don’t?” Jason asked incredulously.

Damian examined the images a bit harder as well.  “They do seem around my age in the first images.”

“Really?  I’m with Tim, I can’t tell either.  I can’t get a good feel for age when I look at the pictures.” Dick’s voice came over the speaker.  “That’s strange.  Their faces are at least partially exposed.  I should be able to get an idea at least.” He paused for a few seconds. “Do you think the magic is helping conceal their identities as well?”

Tim stared at the images as well, moving slowly closer to them, “Maybe,” he nodded subconsciously, “I can’t get a feel either.  The longer I stare at them the harder it is to tell anything.”

“Magic.” Bruce shook his head in disgust.  “Anything else to tell us tonight, Tim?”

Tim shook his head “Not today.  I’ll have more tomorrow.”

Bruce nodded a thanks and switched places with Tim.  Damian scowled at Tim and moved to put some distance between him and Tim.  Tim fought off rolling his eyes in annoyance, but only just managed it.  Bruce turned to the rest of the team, “Okay, as soon as we are done here, we’ll start scouting the city to see if we can make contact. We are not looking to be too subtle with this.  We want them to know we are here.  If you catch sight of them, let the rest of us know we will send someone to talk to them about a meeting later tonight or tomorrow.  I want to make this very clear.  Our goal today is to meet the local heroes and set up a meeting in the next few days in order to gather more information.   The primary mission is recon.  We have no idea what exactly is going on here or how dangerous it is.  We are not engaging tonight.  We want them to trust us, think we’re on their side, and get as much information out of them as we can, on the situation and the miraculous.”

“If we want them to trust us, we should leave the rabid squirrel here.  Or better yet, send his petty ass home.  He’s only going to cause trouble.” Jason griped, motioning toward Damian.  Tim did roll his eyes this time.  It was a stupid fight to pick.  Damian wasn’t going anywhere.  Damian wanted to come and Bruce gave in.  They were just on containment duty now, trying to minimize the damage Damian would do.

“You’ve made your feelings more than abundantly clear on the matter, Little Wing, frequently.  Damian is there now.  Deal with it.” Dick reprimanded him, tired of this conversation. Jason hadn’t gotten his way in their discussion in the Batcave.  He hadn’t gotten his way discussing it the next day.  He hadn’t gotten his way in the car on the way to the airport or boarding the plane or on the plane or deplaning or while checking into the hotel, he wasn’t going to get Damian kicked off the mission now.

“Someone needs to be there to make sure you don’t tell them all our secrets trying to impress some vapid, philistine harpy.” Damian snapped turning his back to Jason.  

It was a small miscalculation, but in this family that is all that is needed. By moving away from Tim, he had placed himself close to Jason and by turning, he had left himself open to Jason’s much longer arm reach.  Jason grabbed Damian’s cape and yanked back sharply.  “Watch your mouth, you puerile, creepy, little shit.”  Damian let out a startled grunt before landing with a loud thump on the ground.  He growled at Jason and tensed to pounce on him.

“Jason!” Bruce admonished moving between the two boys.  “Let’s focus on the mission.”

Jason rolled his eyes.  Of fucking course that would be Bruce’s reaction. “Right. Don’t want to prevent the oncoming disaster if it’s coming from inside the house.” He leaned back in the chair with a huff.  “You want to focus on the mission, Old Man?  Fine.  Coming at them with an almost full team that includes this asshole,” he motioned toward Damian, “doesn’t exactly scream ‘trust us’, does it?  Do we really want everyone to show up to this thing?  Maybe one or two of you should stay in the room.”

“Considering your girlfriend threatened to leave us bloody and broken, more is probably a safer bet.  We probably should have insisted on Dick coming as well, maybe have the girls meet us here too.  And do you really want to leave Damian unsupervised?” Tim asked with a raised brow fully facing him.  The only way to attempt to contain Damian at this point was to keep him close and Jason knew it.

“You could stay with him.  We weren’t planning on actually having a discussion tonight anyway.  That way you could get more research done and someone could watch the child.” Jason reasoned. Tim nodded in thought.  Not a bad idea at all.  He would like more time to research before they actually interacted with any of the heroes.  But it came from Jason so there must be something wrong with it.  He just needed to figure out what it was.

Damian growled at the description.  “I am not a child.”

Jason scoffed back at him, “You act like one.”

Damian jumped at him flipping midair and unsheathing his katana, landing with it a few centimeters from Jason’s jugular, “Could a child do that?”

“One just did.” Jason glowered at him, hitting the sword away.

“Jason has a point.” Dick spoke up, breaking the tension.  Damian whipped his head to Dick’s image on the screen his face giving away a flash of hurt before almost immediately schooling his expression into a blank look.

“Did that hurt to say?” Jason asked with a smirk, “It looked like it hurt. That’s okay sometimes the most satisfying things do.”

“Yeah, that’s healthy,” Tim muttered to himself.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued on, ignoring Jason, “Sending so many, especially hostile ones, looks like a power play.  It looks like you’re trying to intimidate them.”

“We are,” Damian snapped at him.

“You aren’t.” Dick corrected him. “You’re trying to get them on your side. You are trying to get them to trust you.  Not scare them.”

“We won’t all show up to meet them.  I’ll take the lead along with Tim.  Jason and Damian will hold back and watch.” Bruce clarified.  “For tonight I want everyone out and about so we can cover more ground and hopefully either run into one of the heroes or make our presence known enough to get their attention for tomorrow.”

“If this” Damian indicated all of them in the room, “is all it takes to scare them, they need our help more than we thought.”

“He didn’t say it would scare them, he said it looks like we are trying to scare them.” Jason responded with a sharp edge to his voice.

“You’re welcome to stay back in the room.” Tim offered annoyed with the conversation.

“I have information I want too” Jason growled at him.

“We are not here to get information on that woman.” Tim rebuked him.

“You aren’t” Jason muttered turning away.

“Jason” Bruce said sternly, “We are here to collect data on the miraculous and the heroes and see how much danger we and the world are in and if something needs to be done.”

“Not get you a date with a girl you don’t know and don’t even know if she is interested.” Tim taunted him.

“This is not about getting a date,” Jason defended himself.

Tim, Dick, and Damian all scoffed in unison while Bruce and Alfred gave Jason a skeptical look.  Selina sat in the background with an amused smile.  Really, the only result she was interested in from this mission was Jason finding his girl.

Jason glared at him before turning to Bruce, “I know what we’re here for…” He wouldn’t turn a date down if it should come up and if he managed to find her, he was definitely going to ask her.  But, his priority was to help her, which meant both finding her and getting information on the miraculous.  If he wanted to achieve both of his goals, he first needed to focus on that the family wanted… for now, so they would be distracted and he could focus on his other mission alone.  “What exactly were you thinking might need to be done?”

“Whatever we have to.” Bruce responded calmly but with steel in his eyes.

Jason furrowed his brows at Bruce.  That explanation was significantly more hostile than the original mission statement.  Not that he was surprised, but Bruce stating it so plainly meant he considered it a higher probability.  “That’s a far cry from the ‘we’re just gathering information’ mission you extolled earlier.” Jason gritted out.

“It’s all related.” Bruce stated.

“Why do you think we’re here, Todd?  We need to figure out if we need to acquire the miraculous and how to do so.” Damian snapped at him.

“You’re planning on taking the miraculous?” Tim rounded on Bruce, his confusion evident, having come to the same conclusion as Jason.  “You said over and over again you didn’t think we needed to worry about the girl that broke into the cave and now you’re planning on stealing their miraculous?”

“We are not going to steal their miraculous!” Jason exclaimed.  What the hell was going on?  He had thought they were making progress.  Bruce agreed to investigate and offer help fight Paris’ villain and now they were planning on taking out the heroes themselves.

“We are going to assess the situation.” Bruce clarified trying to pacify them and bring emotions down to a quiet rumbling rather than a full out roar. Completely content was never an option and Bruce knew it.

“We wouldn’t steal Green Lantern’s ring, we shouldn’t even be thinking about touching theirs.”  Jason yelled.

“We would if he were evil.” Dick reasoned, not at all surprised by the turn of events and long past getting upset when Bruce made plans like these. Bruce liked to be prepared.  The Paris heroes might not ever do anything evil. They might become allies, but that wouldn’t stop Bruce from figuring out their weaknesses and how to take them down should the need arise.

“If they were evil, Constantine wouldn’t be helping them.” Jason argued back, his face starting to turn red, “Not wanting to have you interfere doesn’t make them evil B.” Jason argued back.

“We are not planning on taking anything, but we need to be prepared if things go bad.  We don’t know enough to even begin to guess what could go wrong to cause us to step in. At this stage, we are just trying to get an idea what is going on so we can get a better idea of what to ask later so we can make a plan.” Bruce started moving toward the balcony doors as he pulled on his cowl, “Now finish suiting up.  Let’s go.”

“Oh this is going to go just fucking swimmingly,” Jason muttered under his breath as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his helmet.  Tim hummed in agreement and started bracing for the worst, which was standard practice at this point.

   Chapter 5

  Tags:

@loveswifi​ @mystery-5-5​ @dreamykitty25​ @ira-sairain​ @wannajointhecrabcult​ @susiej1118​ @our-preciousss @casual-darkness​ @ertyzeta​ @mandy984​ @darkthunder1589​ @chez-pezeater​ @emilytopaz​ @elements1999​ @nik-nak-3 @mermaidreject​ @dramatic-squirrel​ @thenillabean​ @alysrose-starchild​ @phoenixperegrinebitch​ @nickristus-dreamer @goblinwhoships​ @no-username2544 @i-wanna-be-a-ninja​ @valeks-princess​ @2confused-2doanything @redscarlet95​ @icebluedolphin2365​ @inarachi02​ @unrepentantgeek​ @maybe-nonsense​ @theymakeupfairies​ @smolplantmum​ @moongoddesskiana​ @thehufflepuffranger-blog @fusser90​ @spyofthenightcourt​ @jayverca @animegirlweeb​ @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm​ @consumeconstantly​ @lozzybowe​ @novicevoice​ @random-fandoms7​ @acoolspacegirl​ @laurcad123​ @dast218​ @frieddonutsweets​ @maribat-is-lifeblood​ @g-arya​ @fantasiame​ @lilkymilky​ @corabeth11​ @fc-studios​ @roselynfey​ @babylovebug18​ @pepelachanel​ @atramentias​ @jalaluvsu @nathleigh @iloontjeboontje @spicybelladonna @kokotaru @zalladane

 Note: *Sigh* I honestly thought they would meet again, kinda, in this chapter, but then they didn’t, the unruly bastards.  So very sorry.  Next chapter I promise!  I swear it is the next scene.

[allhailthecoffeegods]

Chapter 2

And now we’re back to the present, Nettie sitting on her office floor surrounded by empty energy drinks and coffee cups plotting Gabe’s downfall. Unfortunately for her the guy own a massive fashion house and if she just takes him out quickly it’s going to have a negative affect on not only his son who is an naive, spineless dumbass (who doesn’t deserve this shit no matter his unfortunate lack of brain cells) it will have backlash on all of the companies investors, workers and their families.

So what is extremely sleep deprived Nettie’s best idea on how to handle such a situation? Why of course it’s to hack into Bruce Fucking Wayne’s security and video call him, duh, because he’s super rich and is actually a good guy if you overlook the fake Fuck boy persona that is ‘bRuCiE wAyNe’. He’d definitely be able to buy fucking gabe out meaning before the hawk bitch knows what’s happening she’ll swoop in and grab the miraculous during his temporary weakness. Simple.

What she didn’t expect was for Red robin to be on her screen in what looks like a cave instead of Bruce....

“What the FUCK!” A guy dressed in red amour and a domino mask yells in English as the call connects.

“....... um hi, my names kitty noir hero of Paris” she waves awkwardly to a speechless Red Robin.

“Urg hi, how did you just hack into the bat computer. And since when has Paris had hero’s?” Red Robin finally responds.

“Since three years ago when Hawkmoth first attacked... where’s Bruce wayne???” She asked hesitatingly and very much confused.

“Why do you want Bruce Wayne? And who is Hawkmoth?” He asks in a slightly panicked voice. She’s not sure why he’s panicked but she just ignored it and responded with

“I wanted to speak with him because I was finally able to track down the supervillain Hawkbitch *cough* moth and his partner Mayura and get there identities. But unfortunately he owns a huge fashion company and if i take back the miraculous that give him the powers to take Paris emotionally hostage by turning them into deadly monsters if they have a bad day, his son and employees and there families with all go down with him. So like I was sitting here with file in hand with no idea what to do. You see I’m 16 and have nobody... like no one at all and I don’t know how many days it’s been since I last slept, and I thought well who has a big company and is a good person who might be able to help either take the company from under gabe or even just have advice on the best way to do business stuff like this without fucking people over and well I thought Bruce Wayne....”

“........................”

“So yeah but some how I must have mixed something up and called you instead. But like that’s cool cause your a vigilante correct? Non and well I’ll take anybody at this point. But I definitely still dislike the justice league for ignoring my calls for help and would prefer for any meta human or someone who doesn’t use strong emotions to power them to stay out of Paris till he and his partner are defeated because I’d surly die if they because Akumatised! Like no way I’d have a chance at beating them so like me go spat and it’s quite literally the end of the world ya know? Oh hey is Batman there I’m sure he could help, oh and I do have proof btw like seriously and entire apartment full of evidence if you want I can send it over cause like maybe you won’t call me a joke this time?”

“........ Holy shit............ um hang on a moment let me just gather the team up.....”

The only sound herd for a few minutes is Red Robin typically at lightning speed, until he touched his earpiece and started speaking.

“Hey um B, we have a situation that requires urgent attention”

“...”

“Yes, that would be great. Could you make sure everyone is in the cave suited up in 10 minutes”

“...”

“Urg no I believe that this situation needs to take priority right now, like world ending scenario”

“...”

“Okay see you in 10”

Red robin looked back over towards her and gave a small sad smile before saying “ I just managed to get past a pretty big media block for Parisian news and from everything you’ve said and everything I can see right now, it all appears to be true. No footage is doctored, so can you please explain as to why there is no extensive property damage after these battles you have?” Red robin questions looking more and more confused.

“The miraculous cure of the ladybug reverses all damage caused by a miraculous once the Akuma, a butterfly corrupted by magic, has been purified” she smiles happy that finally someone seems to be on her side.

“Wait. Reverses EVERYTHING like even...” he drags out in shock

Her smile drops “Yeah even death, it’s really bad that at least everyone here has died once even me but past me came to future me with one of my possibly future teammates bunnix (cool guy) who has the power to time travel so I could fight and revive dead future me but is now present time me” I explain slowly.

Red robin just blinked. Mouth open staring at her. Feeling a little uncomfortable she kept going.

“Syren was the first extreme Akuma to be created, she was a young girl on a swimming team and her crush ditched her to go to the movies with another girl. Becoming possessed by the Akuma she cried so much it flooded the entire city with only 200 or so out of 2 billion citizens making it to the roof tops in time. Those who die don’t remember so everyone else refuses to bring it up unless to a therapist but there’s currently not enough of them for the entire city. I did manage to create an app which showcases a whole range of things to help with mental health like meditation and emergency suicide hotlines that are open to calls 27/7” she states trying to reassure the very horrified vigilante that looks like he’s about to be sick, ah wait.... yeah he just threw up. Oh no.

[reddrobins]

of coffee cups + criminals - three [j.todd]

TW: language

ONE - TWO

Chapter three

Waking up whilst tied to a chair was not on [Y/N]’s to-do list. 

Groggily, she tried to look around the dimly lit space - though found it nearly impossible to open up her eyes. The front of her face felt hot and sore, a temporary reminder of the punch she had endured. 

Pushing through the searing pain, she opened her swollen eyes to the best of her ability. From what [Y/N] could make out, it was a large room - the ceiling nearly impossible to see. The space around her seemed to be crowded. Multiple different crates littered the area, some open - their covers tossed among the floor, others stacked atop each other. 

Based on the minimal sight of her surroundings, [Y/N]’s best guess at her location was a warehouse. Though, that didn't really help her narrow down exact places as Gotham was full of warehouses. 

Assuming that the Black Mask was smart enough to operate in secrecy, she knew that the warehouse wouldn't be one near Gotham Square. No, it must have been near the outskirts of town, maybe even close to Blüdhaven. 

“...my end of the deal.”

A voice sounded from the far right of the room, [Y/N]’s head snapping towards the sound. It was just light enough to make out a few figures, one animatedly talking.

“I told you, I always keep my word.” 

[Y/N] could easily tell who the baritone belonged to. Hell, it was the last thing she had heard, right before that fucker punched her in the face. Sionis grew closer, his conversation now clearer to her ears. Deciding it better to be found asleep, rather than face the criminal again, [Y/N] drooped her head, feigning a deep slumber.

“Not sure why you think she’s needed, didn't seem to know a lick about the Hood - but if this is all I gotta do to make sure he's taken care of… She's all yours.”

The small group was now mere feet in front of her, all the members oblivious to her eavesdropping. Risking it, she peaked open an eye in an attempt to count the pairs of feet.

One, Two, Three… 

On the fourth pair, her breath caught in her throat. 

She didn't believe it.

There was just no way.

And then in one quick sentence, Roman Sionis confirmed her fears.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. J.”

-

Seven hours, thirty-two minutes and 12 seconds since the last time he had heard from her.

Jason was officially starting to panic. After phoning, dare he say it, Batman, he had sent a signal to the rest of the family - putting his own hubris aside to get [Y/N] back safely.  Though, that was over 6 hours ago.

Dick and Damian had gone to Blüdhaven, expanding the search effort outside of Gotham. Meanwhile, Tim had been instructed to remain in the cave and access each and every public camera in the city in hopes to catch a glimpse of [Y/N]. Steph stayed too, wanting to be on guard just in case Tim found something. Cass and Duke briefly went out on recon, but came back empty handed. The only two that were actively on the scene were Jason and Bruce. The distant father and son duo had spent the waking morning on the roofs of Gotham. 

Currently, Batman stood with his back towards Jason - getting intel from Oracle through the cowl. It had been like this for a while now, Bruce would silently get filled in whilst leaving his son to wonder what Barbara had said. Jason had just about had enough, it was his search after all, no one would be involved if it weren't for him. They should be filling him in, not Bruce.

“You ever planning on filling me in, old man?” Jason finally spoke. He leaned against the rooftop ledge, angrily (and anxiously) drumming his gloved fingers against his leather coat.

Bruce grunted as a reply, acknowledging his son's question, but not bothering to turn around.

Jason, with years of practiced impatience, scoffed and tapped the side of his helmet, tuning into the comlink. “Oracle, do me a favour - quit talking to Bats and actually tell me what's going on.”

He almost cringed at the harshness in his tone. He had never had anything against Barbara, if anything he felt closer to her than anyone else in the family. Shared trauma tends to do that to a person. Nonetheless, the secrecy between her and Bruce was getting on his nerves. He knew the longer he was out of the loop, the longer it would take to find [Y/N] - and that was the opposite of what he wanted. 

“...Red Hood, I don't know if that's the best course of action right now. I think letting Batman handle this would-” Jason was quick to rebuttal, the notion of letting Bruce handle anything set him off.

“I’m sorry Babs - But last I checked I asked him for help, not the other way.” The name drop, Jason will admit, was immature. Though the line was secure, he knew better than to expose identities. Sighing, Jason apologized, “... Sorry Oracle, that was on me. I just… I just need to find [Y/N].”

It wasn't often that Jason shared his true feelings with the Batfamily, thus this admission of truth was a pleasant surprise to Barbara. The older woman then spoke through her link, “It's fine Hood.” She then turned her words to Bruce. “I- I think he's right Batman. It is his case… He deserves to know everything.” 

Maybe it was admiration for Barbara or maybe it was the swell of ‘I told you so’ to Bruce, but Jason, for the first time since [Y/N] had disappeared, felt hopeful. 

Bruce finally turned around to face his son, who in turn titled his head in earnest. “Oracle,” The older man voiced, “shut off the coms.” A click resounded inside the two mens headsets, signaling the radio silence.

“Before I disclose the information, I need a promise.” Though he donned the cape and cowl, Jason knew that this was not the caped crusader asking for a promise, but his father. As civil as he could be, Jason nodded for him to continue. “I need you to promise me that you won't go running into wherever, that you won't let your emotions get the best of you.” 

The former Robin wanted to scoff, but opted for rolling his eyes under his mask. Bruce was being ridiculous, “This isn't fucking Serejavo, alright?” He knew that he stuck a nerve, he could see a fraction of a flinch from his mentor. “I’m twenty-two, not fifteen - remember? Or do you have me confused with another one of your child soldiers?”

Uncomfortable silence ensued between the two, the seconds ticking by as Jason quietly wished for [Y/N] to be by his side, making this time spent with his adoptive father tolerable. 

Bruce’s response was monotonous, practiced as to not show emotion, “That's enough. We’re on a life or death search, this isn't time for a pity party.” 

‘Okay, Ouch.’ Thought Jason, ‘Thanks for rubbing salt in the wounds, really great work there B-man.’

Having had enough of this familial crap for the day (lifetime it felt like), Jason conceded, “Just get on with it.”

Heaving a sigh, Bruce took a small tablet out from under his cape. He handed it to Jason who quickly sifted through all of the information. It was chocked full of files, pictures, videos, fingerprints, fuck - blood samples. He perused more and more, going further into the database and then - 

Jason thought his heart stopped, again.

He felt as though all the air had been pulled from his lungs.

File 104 out of 305: a single strand of acid green hair paired next to an unknown fingerprint.

“Nightwing found it while crashing a drug trade.” Bruce stated, tone calm and collected.

At that, Jason's brows furrowed, “That's not usually his M.O. Drug trades were never his thing.”

‘No,’ A sick voice hissed in Jason's head, ‘Brutally beating a child to death is though!’

Batman nodded, “Correct. He didn't conduct it. The Black Mask did.” 

Roman Sionis, that fucking dweeb. 

Jason had had a personal vendetta against him ever since his successful take over of the Gotham underground. In the past, he wouldn't have paid a second of attention to that idiot, but once Falcone dipped, the crooks of Gotham were his for the taking. Sionis seemed to think that just any ‘Roman’ could replace ‘The Roman’. 

“What's this got to do with [Y/N]. I don't have time for an extra case, if you haven't realised, my girlfriend-”

Bruce was quick to interrupt before Jason continued one of his heated tangents, “We have reason to believe that he and Black Mask are working together.”

Jason stayed silent, for the first time actually wanting to hear what Bruce had to say. “That being said, rather, we believe Black Mask has hired…” The older Wayne looked at him head on, trying to gage his emotional response before he pressed on, “We think he has hired the Joker.”

It was involuntary, just an ingrained reaction for him to tense up at the mention of the Clown Prince of Crime. Maybe his constant thoughts of [Y/N] were clouding his detective skills, but he had yet to make a connection - or maybe he knew exactly where Bruce was going, but refused to even think of the implications.

“So what are you saying…”

The dark knight closed his eyes, composing himself before giving the final blow.

“I am saying, Black Mask has hired the Joker… to get rid of you.” Even with the mask on, Bruce could sense the indignance oozing from Jason, he held his hand up to silence him and continued, “You’ve been severely depleting the Black Masks profits - he’s losing grip of the crime world. He’s deemed you as the one thing stopping him from complete control, and he's desperate. So desperate that he's hired a maniac to do his bidding.” 

Taking another deep breath, Bruce let the information he had been keeping in, spill out, coating Jason in its toxic bearings. “The Joker knows you, as much as I hate it - he knows you better than any other criminal out there. He knows how to get to you. He knows your weaknesses. He knows your strengths, and he knows your allies. Even Jason Todd’s allies.”

And just like that, the small ounce of hope that Jason had felt earlier, diminished to nothing.

He would have taken being blown up again than this.

“Where is he?” Was all that Jason could muster. 

Bruce immediately shook his head, “No, Rob- Red Hood, I told you, you promised not to go in like-”

“Like last time?” Jason interjected.

Under the cowl, Bruce's face felt hot, unexpected embarrassment rising to his cheeks. “I didn't say that.” He grit out.

Jason finally let out the over do scoff, “But you meant it.” He then approached the larger man, leather gloved hand stretched out, “Now give me the fucking location.”

Though Jason was the closest to Bruce's build within the family, the older Wayne still had a height advantage on him. He stared down at his son, piercing eyes glaring at Jason to ‘stand down’.

Lifting a hand to press the comlink on, Jason spoke into the helmet mic, “Oracle, send me the Jokers coordinates.”

Before Bruce even got a chance to interrupt Barbara's channel, Jason had received the map, location locked in.

Jason backed away from the Bat, crossing over to the ledge once more, grappling gun at the ready.

“Jason!” 

Annoyed, he turned around to catch a glimpse at his mentor, expecting to be yelled at or lectured. Surprisingly, Bruce gave him a tight lipped nod, then - “Be safe.”

Not bothering to acknowledge his fathers - what he assumed to be - half assed façade of care, he swung to the next building, ready to get his girl back.

Bruce knew that two words wouldn't make up for all the hurt he's put Jason through, but it was the most he could do at this moment. He was afraid, he was worried, he was everything a father would be when their child throws themself into danger. Letting out a sigh of built up frustration, he linked up to Babs.

“Keep an eye on him, if it gets out of his control - I’m going in.” Oracle gave a hum of recognition, tuning in her cameras to Jason's helmet. 

“Keep him safe… please.”

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

Survivors guilt and Dick please!!!!

Thanks for the prompt! I added Damian (and Jason, kind of), hope that’s alright. This is set during the time Bruce is “dead”, and is also the first one that actually got me crying dsfhkjdsah

The movie Brother Bear (2003) is talked about in this -- if a summary is needed, there’s one at the top of the chapter on AO3

Written for the @badthingshappenbingo square “Survivor’s Guilt”. X’s are finished, asterisks are requested, and the rest are free!!

----

“Hey, why don’t we watch a movie?” Grayson asks, leaning against the back of the couch Damian is occupying. He’s not lounging, as he’s above such a thing, but he is in a comfortable position, going through as many of Father’s files as he can. “You need a break.”

“I do not,” Damian replies, hardly looking up. “I need to keep going.”

“You’ve been at this for hours, lil D.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, Dami,” Grayson says, dragging the infernal nickname out until Damian glares up at him. Of course, he’s smiling. He’s always smiling. It’s annoying. “I just really think you should take a break now and come watch a movie with me.”

“No.”

“What if it was an order from Batman? ‘Cause I can make it an order from Batman to his little Robin, you know. And you said you’d follow my orders.”

Trying not to grit his teeth, Damian realizes he’s not going to win this one. The files are settled on the furthest cushion, and he makes sure to recognize how he leaves them before he grudgingly stands. Of course, Grayson is beaming, and Damian doesn’t miss how smug it is.

“C’mon,” Grayson says, heading towards the living room. Damian follows sedately, resisting the urge to disappear back into the sitting room and lock all the doors. It won’t do any good, and by the smell of popcorn coming from where they’re headed, it seems Grayson is determined. A determined Grayson is not one that can be won against.

Sure enough, the much larger couch is covered in pillows, blankets, and a large bowl of popcorn. Defeated, Damian sits down in one corner, pulling the nearest blanket over his legs. Grayson joins him, sitting in the other corner and stretching his legs out so they land in Damian’s lap. Scowling, he asks, “What drivel are you going to force me to endure this time?”

“Hey! Lilo and Stitch is not drivel. You’re out of your mind, kid.”

“I am not—!”

“I’m kidding, Dami,” Grayson laughs, sitting up just to reach over and attempt to ruffle Damian’s hair. He gets his hand slapped away for the trouble. “Anyway, I was thinking we could watch Brother Bear.”

The TV comes on then, and Grayson, taking Damian’s silence as acceptance, goes to the list of movies they own. Brother Bear, it turns out, is an animated movie for children.

“I’m not a child, Grayson!” He hisses, unspeakably annoyed. “We don’t have to watch these silly movies every single time.”

“Who says it’s for you?” Grayson counters, and though he’s still grinning, he sounds exhausted. “Maybe I just don’t wanna watch this alone.”

“Ask Pennyworth, then.”

Grayson shakes his head. “No, he’s busy, and anyway, this is a movie one watches with their brothers. It’s in the title and everything. Now hush, I’m turning it on.”

Damian crosses his arms belligerently, refusing to enjoy this in any way, shape, or form. But he can’t leave with Grayson’s legs pinning him down, and this couch is quite comfortable as well…. With a sigh, he reaches out for a handful of popcorn, and turns his attention to the movie.

Sometime over the next hour, they finish the popcorn and the bowl gets set on the floor. Damian finds himself unconsciously sidling up closer to Grayson, until he’s practically laying on the man. His chest is a comfortable pillow, and with the back of the couch pressed so close, Damian feels cocooned and relaxed, even.

He watches the movie, but not because he’s enjoying it—he’s not. And he doesn’t do it for Grayson, either, because that would be ridiculous. He does it because he’s stuck, and there’s nothing more interesting to do except pay attention.

On the screen, the main characters sit on top of a mountain, and Kenai, the older of the two, tells Koda, the small bear cub, about his betrayal. About how he killed the cub’s mother, and got turned into a bear by the Great Spirits for it. The scene is an emotional one, to be sure, and the actors play it well. Damian bites the inside of his cheek, and pretends not to notice himself curling tighter into Grayson’s side. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, demanding that they stop stinging. He’s not a child, he shouldn’t be crying over some stupid film! It’s ridiculous!

Grayson sniffles, and Damian freezes.

“Sorry,” Grayson whispers, a breathy laugh following the word. “This part always gets me.”

“It’s just a movie, Grayson.”

There’s silence for a few moments, and Damian looks up to his face, finding that the older man’s eyes are trained on the television. A tear is sliding down his cheek. The sight of it makes Damian’s stomach twist uncomfortably. Then Grayson says, “It was Jason’s favorite.”

Jason Todd, he means. Damian scoffs, opening his mouth to reply.

Grayson beats him to it. “I know—I know it seems weird. For me to miss him. But he was my brother, too, and we watched this together once. I did it with Tim and Cass, too, and now it’s your turn.”

“They aren’t—”

“Yes, they are.”

“But I’m—”

“Damian.” He sounds firm, upset. His eyes shut, still turned away, and more tears fall.

Damian wants this to end. He doesn’t want to see an adult cry, be so weak. It makes his throat feel hot and tight, like he might join in, and that’s something that needs to be avoided at all costs. Changing the subject, he asks, “Why is Kenai so upset? Koda’s mother killed his brother. He was right to kill her in retaliation. If someone killed you, I—I would get my revenge.”

Grayson turns to him then, the hand not curled around Damian’s back coming up and wiping his face. “That’s sweet, Dami, but it’s not what I want. Okay? When I die, I don’t want you to get revenge, I want you to grieve and move on. Be happy. Miss me, but not too much.”

“I don’t understand,” Damian says, confused. ‘Not too much’? What could that possibly mean?

“I hope you never do.” Grayson sighs, keeping his hand over his eyes. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I’m just.” He exhales again, this time much louder. “You asked why he’s upset. Kenai, when he killed Koda’s mom, he thought he was doing the right thing. But then the Spirits showed him it wasn’t necessarily the right thing, there are consequences, you know. And he’s regretting his actions, because the consequences aren’t worth it. If he’d done something differently, maybe the mama bear wouldn’t be dead, and then Koda wouldn’t be alone.”

Incredibly unsure, Damian says, “But Koda’s not alone. He has Kenai.”

“Not forever. One day, Kenai won’t be there when it really counts, and Koda will be on his own when he really needs a brother around, you know? And Kenai…he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. Because if he’d just been there, then maybe Koda wouldn’t be dead, and maybe Koda wouldn’t end up alone and hurting and killing people.”

“Grayson, I—I feel you’re talking about something else.”

Wiping his cheeks again, Grayson turns back to the TV, jaw clenched. “Sorry. We can talk when it’s over, okay? I’ll explain whatever doesn’t make sense.”

Damian scans his face, easily noting the tension. But it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. And Damian, he doesn’t really care that much about Grayson’s weaknesses.

Clearing his throat, he presses his own cheek into Grayson’s chest and turns his attention back to the screen.

[tigerlilynoh]

Almost Got ‘em

Written for the 2019 @spnsummergen. Rating: G Featuring: Original characters, and a couple familiar faces Word Count: 3,143 Warnings: foul language Author's Notes: The prompt was “Early season - demons in hell plotting to take the Winchesters down.” I was immediately inspired by the Batman: The Animated Series episode “Almost Got ‘im.”   Summary: Deep in the depths of Hell, a group of demons discuss the two latest pains in their collective ass: Sam and Dean Winchester. Rumor is that the brothers had found the Colt and even killed a demon. Of course, rumors are just big talk— yet a pair of demons patiently listen; their plan is already in action.

Two figures made their way through the halls of the third lowest dungeon in Hell.  As they walked the jagged stone walls seemed to close in around them, but their petite, female forms prevented the blade-like rock from tearing at their temporary flesh.  Even if they were injured it would be of no importance; they were demons and there was a meeting that they very much wanted to attend.

Both were wearing lean, blonde women who might’ve been mistaken for sisters, but that was the limit of their outward similarity.  The slightly older of them wore a gauzy, white dress that, when combined with her delicate steps, gave her the air of a drifting spirit.  Her partner was another story.  The younger demon’s black combat boots thudded with every step, announcing her presence.  Her attire was entirely leather—the cow sort, not human—dyed dark enough to hide spilled blood.

Neither of them said a word as they approached the auxiliary dungeon rumored to be containing an unusual sort of rendezvous.  The pair didn’t have anything more to discuss for the moment.  They both knew their immediate goals, responsibilities, and when push came to shove, which of them was in charge.  They damn well better have known.  Between the two of them, they’d spent over a decade putting their respective pieces in order and double-checking their work.

When they reached the unmarked door that they’d heard whispers about, the demon in the white dress pushed it open without hesitation.  She stepped through the door with an unassuming demeanor.  Her colleague followed her, studying the contents of the chamber with a wary eye.

Inside there were eight lesser demons standing or sitting around a storage room.  Three racks had been laid out flat, then pushed together to create an improvised conference table.  Five of the occupants were perched on crates of acid, steel nails, and other implements of pain.  The remaining three leaned against the far wall, cautiously keeping some distance.

A brutish-looking man with pasty skin, a pronounced brow, and stringy black hair glared at the newcomers from the opposite side of the table.  He stared with the intensity of someone who had taken charge—he certainly didn’t hold any noteworthy rank as evidenced by his badly calloused hands that hinted at many decades or centuries of wielding a whip, the shoddy ones meant for working souls.  

In a low growl he asked the two women, “What do you want?”

“We heard that this is the place to be if you truly hate the Winchesters,” answered the elder one.

He stared at them for a moment before replying, “Get inside and shut the fucking door.”

The pair entered, closing the door behind them.  From the way that everyone turned their attention to a stout demon sitting on a box labeled ‘spiders’ they assumed that it was his turn to speak.  The two women settled themselves on a non-technically-iron maiden that was lying along one of the walls as if it were a bench.

The stout demon resumed addressing his audience.  “So then I tore the cow apart—six chunks, big ones but still enough to spread around, and some smaller hunks.  You don’t want to waste it by piling the whole cow in one corner of the room.  You might as well not bother cutting the damn thing up—Anyway, I hung pieces of it throughout the house.”  The sound of scuttling inside the box he was sitting on filled the room as he fumed for a moment in anger.  “It’s a classic omen!  It’s a horror!  And the older of the brothers makes a joke about hamburgers!”

“So disrespectful,” muttered a female demon with hollow eyes and frayed white hair.  Several demons nodded in agreement with her comment.

“That kind of work takes time,” complained the portly demon.  “I’m not a high-caste demon.  I can’t just wave my hand and make things move.  Do you have any idea how long it takes to cut up a cow?  And the first cleaver broke and I had to find a store—”

“Was it a vegetable cleaver?” asked the lean demon with a mangled left arm and long, frizzy brown hair sitting next to him.  When he looked up at her face in confusion, she rested her hand on his thigh, then said in a soft voice, “Milmont, sweetie, two kinds of cleavers.  Vegetable ones aren’t made for bone.”

“I don’t fucking believe this,” muttered a red-haired demon.  He was dressed like Billy Idol but his rosy cheeks undercut the attempt at an edgy look.  “Did you fight them or not?”

“I fought them!” Milmont replied indignantly.  “I had a knife—”

“Paring or bread?”

“—and I swung at the older one’s neck.”

One of the demons standing in the shadows noted aloud, “Swung means a miss.  You got your ass kicked.”

The stoat demon flustered a bit before reluctantly explaining, “He shot me in the chest with rock salt and hit me in the face with his gun—” 

“You fell on your ass,” guessed the red-headed demon.

“The younger brother can perform an exorcism really fast,” Milmont said while shifting, jostling the box of spiders.

“You shouldn’t have gone after them,” said the brutish leader of the group.  “You’re too weak.”

The stout demon glared as he hissed, “I have every right to go after the prey I choose.  I’m allowed to prove myself!”  He waved his hand at the rest of the room as he asked, “How many of you have been exorcised by them?  If you’re here bitching about the Winchesters on your weekly one-hour break, yeah, I’m guessing they made you look like an idiot too.”

Several of the demons nodded in acknowledgement of the point or murmured agreement.  The leader let out a small grumble as he reached into an open crate next to him.  He pulled out an unlabeled bottle containing reddish-tawny liquid, then yanked the black cork from it with his teeth.  After taking a swig, he handed it to Milmont.

“Corceo.”  The stout demon toasted him before having a sip.  

“You’re lucky that you were only exorcised,” the hollow-eyed woman told him while reaching out, wordlessly asking for a drink.  Milmont passed it to her and she took a sip before continuing.  “Rumor has it they possess the Colt.”

“Dajhila, they don’t have the Colt,” replied the demon with the bad arm.  “I brawled with them ten days ago and they didn’t shoot me.”

“Maybe you aren’t worth the bullets?” jabbed the rosy-cheeked punk.

With her good hand, she picked a knife up off the ground and stabbed it into the wooden table in front of her, inviting him to fight.

Corceo, the leader, hit the table, drawing everyone’s attention.  “Tisha, don’t carve Frey a new asshole.  He has plenty already,” he joked, earning a chuckle from one of the demons watching from the wall.  “The fact is that they had the gun.  They killed Tom.”

“Tom was an idiot,” huffed Frey.  “The only reason he wasn’t wading through viscera like the rest of us was because he was Azazel’s son.”

“Apparently he was attacking Sam, and Dean shot him,” Dajhila explained.  “There were witnesses.”

Frey shrugged indifferently at Tom’s death.  “Silver-spooned nepotist should’ve been the one to get his ass beat before he got shot.”

“I’m fine with the younger Winchester getting that bludgeoning,” interjected Tisha.  She snarled, “You know that little shit is a psychic?  I was so close to killing them.  It took me three weeks to lure them to this abandoned insane asylum.  I’d murdered twenty people in there—six hunters came before the brothers finally took the bait.  That’s the shit I had to deal with in order to roll out the red carpet for those thick-brained, underwear-model-looking—“

“They aren’t that good looking,” said Milmont.

“They are,” countered Corceo.  “Now let her finish or I’ll tear your fucking tongue out.”

Dajhila with the hollow eyes quietly said, “We should’ve kept the talking stick.”

Frey held up the pointy, splintered remains of a blood-stained wooden dowel that had evidently been used to stab someone.  The woman shrugged, conceding that it had worked better in theory than in practice.  The red-haired demon tossed it aside, grabbed the bottle of alcohol from where it had settled on the table, then gestured to their current storyteller.

Tisha waited a beat to see if anyone would interrupt her before continuing.  “I swear on my life, that Sam kid really is a psychic.  They knew it was a trap.  I’m sitting there with a semi-automatic rifle—I’m not fucking around—and all of a sudden the sprinklers are raining holy water.”  Her lips curled downward at the memory as she snarled, “Sam used a megaphone from the parking lot to exorcise me.  I only got to see their faces as my cloud was getting dragged back down.”

“Jesus,” exhaled Frey.  “A megaphone… and you had a rifle.”

“What weapon did you go after them with?” asked Tisha.

He thought for a moment before finally admitting, “A big rock.”  Everyone stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter, so he added, “Sometimes simple is best.  We’re stronger than them and there was a big rock right there that I could throw—  It was a tactical decision.”

“With genius thinking like that, it’s no wonder we can’t catch a break against them,” said Corceo.

Dajhila commented, “The only good news is that the dad, John, he died two months ago.”

“John Winchester, hunter savante—  That piece of shit finally dropped?”  Milmont looked around, eyes wide with excitement.  “What did ‘im in?”

“I do not know.”  The hollow-eyed woman crossed her bony arms.  “Margot, down in processing, says his file is classified, but it is there.”

Frey leaned forward with interest.  “File—  We got him?  Fucker isn’t playing a harp?”

“In the pit as we speak,” she replied smuggly.  “Rumor is that Alastair’s working him personally.”

“Alastair?” asked Corceo.  “They’re breaking out the Grand Torturer himself for a Winchester?”

Tisha nodded slowly to herself as she put together a few pieces.  “Well, he is classified.”

The two women silently observing from their place on the iron maiden exchanged a knowing glance.  The one in leather subtly placed her hand on a bulge by her belt that was obscured by her jacket, but the woman in the white dress discreetly shook her head and gestured for her to wait.  At the order, the younger demon gave a quick roll of her eyes before relaxing her posture.  By the time they’d turned their attention back to the meeting, the conversation had switched back to discussing different methods of pursuing the still-living brothers.

“Dean is a hedonist,” commented Dajhila.  “Take a meatsuit with a figure as an hourglass and lay yourself in his path.”

Tisha raised an eyebrow.  “You really think he’s going to fall for something like that?”

“He’s young and proud.”

Tisha countered, “He’s a paranoid with low self-esteem—“

“Here we go,” muttered Milmont.

“—You all think they’re heroes out of a fucking Greek epic, but they’re just men—feeble, petty little things—“

“Little,” Frey scoffed.  “Have you even seen them?”

Tisha slammed her fist on the table.  “They are mortal children, too absorbed by their grief and self-pity—Yes, they are little, but that makes them paranoid, partially-psychic, sneaky cunts who use megaphones.”  She paused a moment to look around the table at the others, then said, “And maybe they don’t have it now or maybe I wasn’t worth the bullets, but they know about the Colt.  They know how to kill us—  Kill, not exorcise.”

After a brief, pensive silence, Milmont asked, “When was the last time you heard of one of us getting killed?  Cain going nuts and turning traitor?  That was almost 150 years ago—Earth time.”

Corceo nodded.  “Half the crew in my dungeon wasn’t even turned back then.  The sniveling pups thought we were immortal until they heard the news:  the fucking Winchesters killed Tom.”

There was a grumble of shared frustration at the indignity.  Humans had managed to kill demons, for the first time in over a century—and the bastards hadn’t even had the decency to stick around long enough to be killed in return.

“We have to stop them,” said Milmont quietly.  

Frey scoffed.  “Have you been listening or are ya’ as dense as iron?”

“Oh, choke on a ball of blades,” Tisha hissed.

The red-haired demon waved his arms, sarcastically miming fear.

“Save it.  The enemy is up there.”  Corceo waited to see if anyone would interrupt, then continued.  “I’m tired of all this theatrical, solo bullshit.  We murder them in their sleep.  If they salt the door, we use guns.  If they ward the building, burn it down.  Fucking drive an oil tanker truck into them—this is war.  So how do we find them?”

Milmont replied, “Since their dad died, my denmate, Bahshin, spotted them a few times with another hunter:  male, middle-aged, reddish-brown greying hair and beard, baseball cap, one of those grizzled sorts.”

Tisha nodded.  “I know the one.  His name is Bobby—don’t know the last name.  I’ve run into him and his partner a few times.  He sticks to the north central U.S.  Rural looking, lots of plaid.  He had an old truck.”

“Fucking hick hunters,” muttered Frey.

The woman in leather sitting along the wall wordlessly withdrew a small notebook and pen from her pocket, then wrote down, “Margot:  soul processing department grunt,” and “Bahshin:  den-dweller, has an Earth pass.”  

Corceo eyed the two silent newcomers from his place at the table.  “Taking notes?  Dainty little things like you gonna go gunning for the big bad Winchesters?”  He laughed.  “Well get in fucking line.  You come here, don’t say shit, and crib off our hard work—  How close have you come to offing them?  What makes you so cocky you’re gonna be the ones to kill the bastards?”

The woman with the notepad gestured to her partner, inviting her to address the challenge.  The demon in white stood up and smiled, unconcerned by the hostile attitude of the others in the room.

“We haven’t tried to kill them,” she replied.  “And we have a plan, the likes of which history has never seen.”

“Ready to shared with the class?” Frey asked.  “What brilliant plan are you two peons gonna try?”

“We’re gonna give them what they really want.”

Corceo’s eyes passed over the two women.  “A pair of eager-to-please blondes in suggestive clothes?”

The woman in the white dress corrected him.  “The only one we’re eager to please is our lord, Lucifer.”

A few of the demons chuckled at the absurd statement.  Lucifer was a fairytale, as much as God and angels were to the humans.  

“I’ll bite.”  Corceo’s mouth curled into an amused grin, punctuated by the occasional barbed fangs.  “What are you gonna give them?”

“We’re gonna make them heroes.”

The demons around the table laughed outright at the reply.

“You’re going to make them heroes?  Those hunter bastards know about the Colt.  They killed Tom.  They’ve been exorcising us.”  He placed his hands on the table and stood up, ready to confront them.  “The Winchesters aren’t scared of us—not the way they should be.  We’re demons.  That still means something.  So I don’t know what crazy scheme you’re thinking up, but it isn’t happening.  They don’t get to be heroes.  They die.”

“They’ll die when we—” She gestured to her partner “—say they die.”

“Looks like we have something of a race on our hands.”  Cerceo walked up to her and stood so that they were only a few inches apart.  A head taller than her, he glared down at her before hissing, “You think you can beat me to them?”

Her eyes turned white, causing his jaw to drop.  “Child you’re busy boasting and we’re on step fifteen.”  Lilith waved her right hand, locking the door to the room.  In a quick backhanding gesture, she threw Corceo against the far wall, then turned to look at her companion.  “Ruby.”

Ruby stood up and smiled as she drew her knife from the holster on her belt.  She systematically worked her way through the room, killing the others while her partner held them in place with telekinesis.  Afterward, she placed the bodies on the table, then rested her palms on the topmost corpse.  A few lines of Aramaic later, blue flame engulfed the bodies, destroying the evidence.

While watching the fire, Lilith asked, “Is Meg ready?”

“She’s still running recon on the other children.  In terms of pressure points so far:  four have lovers, eight of them are close to a parent, and we have a few like Sam where the sibling could be an incentive.  As of yesterday, she was watching the stoner with imprinting telepathy to figure out his achilles’ heel.”  Ruby wiped her bloody blade on the sleeve of her jacket to clean it while asking, “Did you take care of Crowley?”

“I encouraged several of his aides to let a few deals lapse.  Numbers are down.  He’s dying to get a big deal.”  Lilith looked at her.  “The second Dean Winchester’s soul comes across his desk, he’ll sign off on the contract just to get his name on something.  The grubby-fingered broker didn’t check the fine print on John; why should the son be any different?  I’ll hold Dean’s contract and the moment he bites it, he’ll get expedited delivery to Alastair’s dungeon.  No official processing.  No gossip—”  She gestured to the smoldering remains of the demon who had accidentally outed Margot as a leak in the processing department.  “—No mistakes this time.”

Ruby huffed an unamused laugh.  “The two of us sure as hell won’t have time to clean up any messes once this show gets rolling.  Round one we could afford to have things go a little sideways.  Once we pop up on Sam’s radar, that’s it.  We’re in, and I’m not coming back downstairs on a fucking milk run.”

“It will all turn out,” Lilith assured her.  “Our lord wills his return.  He cannot be denied.”

Ruby didn’t reply to the pious statement.  Instead she studied the charred racks in front of them.  “I know he’s your mentor and we couldn’t have done this without him, but Azazel can’t survive this.  You know that, right?”

Lilith nodded.  “When he finishes aligning his pawns, he’ll throw the fight.  He knows how important it is that Sam’s anger be directed solely at me.  That means clearing the field for the next generation of nemeses.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruby placed her hand on her partner’s shoulder.  “When I’m done with him, Sam will be foaming at the mouth to kill you.”

“I envy you,” Lilith sighed.  “You’ll live to see our lord.  It’s going to be beautiful.”

--------------

If you enjoyed this story, check out my Sam/Ruby Fic Masterlist or my Full Fic Masterlist.

[becausewerebatfam]

Mother F*cker (1)

Jason Todd x Reader

Jason finds out what happened to you after his death and you find out what he did when he was resurrected. (In this universe, you are the biological sister of Damian Wayne)

At first, it was like a dream but quickly turned into a nightmare.

After going through hell and back Jason was finally blessed with the sight of an angel. When he first laid eyes on you he became a slave to your love and affection. He lived his days chasing you for the chance to feel your lips upon his. He died thinking he would never get to steal another kiss, hold your hand in his, feel the warmth of your body as it pressed against his own...

“Jason?” a shaky breath found its way out of your lips as you carefully approached the man who stood in front of you. His face was obstructed by the red helmet but that voice...

Jason too stood frozen at the sight of your tattered costume. Your beautiful face tainted by the bruise upon your cheek and a bloody lip, nonetheless he was awestruck. His throat felt dry as he attempted to speak. He needed to know what you were doing out of Gotham but no words came out. He reached out to hold you, “Baby girl-” he was brought to a stop by the Batarang that lodged itself in his hand.

“Hands off!” Damian shouted as he approached with full speed followed by Tim. Together the two of them began to fight the man you were almost certain was your deceased beloved. 

At the sight of the rest of his ex-brothers Jason snapped out his trance and began fighting back.

Dick quickly scooped you up and took you to safety atop a building where he finally got the chance to inspect you. “Are you alright?” he asked. Aside from the visible damage on your face he wanted to know if there were any broken bones or internal bleeding. He began examining you in a panic leaving the battle to his two younger brothers.

“I’m fine” you insist finally breaking out of your shock. “That guy...” you break away from him to peer over the roof’s edge and get a look at the man who was fighting against Tim and Damian “...he sounds like-”

Dick’s eyes widen as he realized you might find out what they had been hiding from you for the past few years. 

+++

That encounter haunted Jason’s thoughts. The way you gasped, shocked beyond belief had him thinking you possibly didn’t know of his resurrection.

“What’s up with you lately you’re skipping the bar and going off on your own.” Roy gave him a smug smile as he elbowed his side. “You sly dog, you hiding a chick from me?”

He shook his head in denial. All this time his anger towards the bat family had grown thinking not only that Bruce had let him down but that you had preferred him dead. You, his one true love, seemed to be missing every time he fought the bat. Dick, Tim, and Damian all accompanied him one time or another but he had yet to see you.

Jason groaned as his helmet came into contact with the ground. 

Dick held Jason down trying to stop him with the least amount of damage. He only wanted to reason with him but his brother had long lost his diplomacy. “Jason I just want to help.”

“Help me?... it’s too late for me Grayson...” Jason knew he had gone far beyond Batman’s code of honor. There was no way he would ever accept him and if he wouldn’t then you surely... “Grayson is she-” he desperately wanted t know how you were doing. “How is she?”

Dick’s grip loosened and his expression softened. “She’s fine,” that’s all he could say knowing that you were definitely not fine. He offered him a hand and helped him stand. You were never the same after the loss of Jason. 

Jason desperately wanted to see you, even a glimpse would be fine but for some reason, he hadn’t even heard your name. No one ever seemed to speak of Batgirl since he came back, it was always just Batman and his brothers who got mentioned in the papers. He constantly woke up in a cold sweat from a recurring nightmare where you had followed him to hell but unlike him, you never got back. “Just fine?”

“As fine as any of us can be after witnessing a loved one die.” 

That encounter did nothing but make him think back to the day he died. He knew there had to be a reason to why he kept having that nightmare. 

When he asked Talia about it, about you, she only gave him a number and location.

+++

Tim groaned as Jason held him by the throat.

“Tell me why Y/N has a record at Arkham!” Jason was utterly horrified when he found his ex-girlfriend’s name in their system. That picture of you, that came up with the file, didn’t look like you. Your eyes were empty of any light like you were gone...broken. The alias you used sounded like a villain he had heard of before, one that assassinated a lot of high profile people. 

The records were sealed and encrypted so if anyone ever looked for them Batman was alerted. When the alarm came Tim was the only one in the Batcave. He raced to Arkham where he ran into Jason. 

“What are you doing here Jason?” Tim wasn’t worried or in danger. Jason wasn’t trying to hurt him, he had loosened his grip so he could talk making it obvious that his priorities had switched. 

“I asked first.” 

Tim knew he couldn’t let Jason know that you had been admitted into Arkham because of him. That after he died you were consumed by rage. “Batman will be here any minute,” he warned. The alert would soon reach his coms making him drop what he was doing and head to Arkham as well.

“What is he going to do, put me in Arkham? We’re already here.” He pushed Tim towards the computer. “I knew he liked this place a little too much. How could he let Y/N come here?” 

“She had to,” Bruce spoke up from the shadows as he joined the two of them. Bruce never wanted his own daughter to be locked up along with the villains she had helped capture but that’s what she needed. After Jason died you slipped into depression then rage overtook you. At one point you ran away looking for the Joker wanting to make him pay for the way your life had turned out but instead found Talia. 

“Why?” Jason fired back hoping to get his answers.

“Why don't you ask Talia, you two are close now.”

Jason lost his temper knowing very well what Bruce was referring to. He lost track of his mission and began fighting them until he could make his escape.

He knew the only way to get answers was to look for them himself. That’s how he ended up using his detective skills once more.

+++

“Where is she?”

“Who?” Dick asks approaching Jason in a very calm manner that was totally out of character for him. He knew you being upstairs in the manor could possibly compromise the perfect little world they had painted for you. The world where you thought your loving boyfriend Jason died a hero. If you ever found out he had been resurrected into the murderer he was then you would surely slip over the edge and turn into a murderer once again.

Jason wasn’t in the mood for games. He had just learned some very important information about you and he needed to confirm it. “I don’t have time for this,” his arm collided with Dick’s as he pushed past him. “You know I’m looking for Y/N.”

“She’s not here.”

“Bullshit!”

Damian’s blood boiled seeing Jason push past Dick in an entitled stride. He jumped in front halting him once more, a scowl on his face. “Why are you here Todd!” Damian didn’t ask, he demanded an answer.

He was sure they all heard from Tim about the encounter at Arkham. “You know why.”

 “Tt, what makes you think you can see my sister?” Damian wasn’t particularly against Jason finding out the truth about you. He actually enjoyed the idea of Jason blaming himself for your actions. What he didn’t want was for the guilt to come back. After you broke free from Talia’s brainwashing you were horrified to find out you had broken the moral code your father held sacred. The crippling guilt is what was captured in your photograph at Arkham.

Just the thought that you heard Jason’s voice sent you falling back into a weak mental state. For days Damian stayed by your side as you refused to do anything opting for locking yourself in your room. He kept an eye on you knowing his mother was always waiting for a moment of weakness to regain control of her children. 

“You’re too young to understand,” Jason dismissed him.

“Tt, I’m not a child,”  Damian lost his temper and lunged forward landing a breathtaking kick to Jason’s stomach. “I’m more a man than you, that’s for sure!”

With the wind taken out of him, Jason stumbled back into some equipment causing a loud series of noise. 

Dick called out to him warning him to keep it together. They couldn’t risk being heard.

When he regained himself Jason didn’t fight back like both Damian and Dick expected. Instead, he began talking in a very serious tone, “I know your mother kept you two separated, neither of you knew you had a sibling. When Y/N ran away your mother told you that if you wanted to meet your father and sister you had to beat her-”

“I know my own past!” Damian knew of your escape as a young teen. When you found out who your father was you ran away from Talia and the league. Years later Damian won his mother and found himself face to face with his father and sister. A sister he never knew he had. You were equally as shocked to know you had a brother...a brother you didn’t know you had left behind back then. 

“My point is, your mother kept something very important from you two. It fucked up your life!”

Damian’s eyes narrowed knowing where this conversation was going. Jason had finally pieced it together. 

Jason was almost afraid to find out the truth. If you did know about him and chose never to cross paths it would figuratively kill him again... and if it turned out you didn’t know... then what should he do? Should he even show up in front of you hoping you still loved him? Would you still love him? Or would it be best if he pretended he was still dead? “She doesn’t know I’m alive, does she?”

“No,” Damian didn’t hesitate to answer. “I’ll make sure they never do.”

“I am the night!” a child’s voice echoed through the cave gaining their attention. “Me too!” a second higher pitched voice followed.

Dick and Damian mirrored their shock as they saw their nephew and niece running down the stairs at full speed. The five-year-old twins didn’t use the practical way and opted to jump off the side when they saw their usual landing spot. 

“No-no-no” Dick repeated religiously always fearing they would hurt themselves. Once they landed safely he sighed holding a hand to his chest. 

“Uncle Grayson!” the little girl happily giggled as she latched herself onto his legs. The mischievous smile showing she got a kick out of worrying him. “Did you have a heart attack again?”

Dick picked her up with a nod and a groan, “Jas, how many times do I have to tell you I’m getting older and weaker.”

“Lies!” the little girl shouted. “You are not old only weak.”

“Why you-” Dick tickled her causing an uproar of laughter. Damian had taught his niece and nephew the art of sassy remarks.

Jason was motionless, completely drained of life when he saw the two kids. He couldn’t believe it, it was all true. After months of investigating he found birth records of two new Wayne family members.

The little boy dropped his smile the minute he saw the stranger in the room. “Tt, who’s this?” He puffed up his chest and scowled putting on his tough guy persona but never leaving his Uncle Damian’s side.

“No one,” Damian responded. 

“Jay...Jas!” you called out from the stairs knowing your children had disobeyed you and gone down to the cave. They loved to see everyone suited up fighting bad guys, quickly learning what it meant to be a vigilante. “How many times do I have to tell you-” your words came to an abrupt halt worrying your kids.

“Ma-” little Jay ran to you. The way your eyes grew double in size and your skin paled reminded him of the time he spilled orange juice on grandpa Bruce’s important papers. 

Jas took one look at you and joked to her dear Uncle Grayson. “Mommy looks like she saw a ghost.”

That’s exactly what it was. You were incapacitated by the fact that you were seeing your ex-boyfriend’s ghost except he wasn’t floating or monochrome. 

“I never noticed how horrifyingly advanced your development is for five-year-olds.” Most kids would still fumble with words, be socially unaware of the adults around them, they would even be tripping on flat ground but these two were like miniature Damian replicas. “Must be a Wayne thing...” he put the little girl down allowing her to join you.

But they weren’t all Wayne... they had Jason’s facial features and while little Jason had your green eyes, Jas had his beautiful blue eyes not to mention his ability to make jokes in all situations.

You looked to Dick, pleading with your eyes for confirmation. He nodded understanding that you needed to know he saw Jason too given the fact that you had gone to an insane asylum for a year. 

“Y/N...” Jason called out hoping you would allow him to approach you. To his surprise, he didn’t have to because you ran into his arms.

“Jason...” you breathed shakily as you hid your face in his chest so no one could see how much you were crying. His arms wrapped around you tightly as he too began to tear up. He had begun to think he would never get to hold you yet here you were. You let go of his torso to hold his face in your hands. It was like you were still trying to confirm that he was actually there. Your fingers ran through his hair moving it out of his face before pressing your lips against his. 

The kiss was interrupted when your son kicked Jason’s shin. “Let go of my mother stranger!”

“Ah-” Jason winced in pain. He was used to being hit but not by children and not without his armor. This kick was nothing compared to Damian’s kick earlier but it was unexpected.

Jas laughed at the stranger’s reaction and since her uncles hadn’t moved she took it upon herself to run in as her brother’s backup. “Get him Jay!” she declared war with a giggle that had the others wondering if perhaps she liked violence a bit too much.

“No, wait- stop you two-” you tried stopping them off but they were determined little creatures. 

Little Jay kicked the back of Jason’s knees making him fall over allowing Jas to climb up onto his shoulders. Her tiny legs wrapped around Jason’s neck trying to choke him while her hands grabbed his luscious black hair to pull on. 

"Should we help them?” Dick asked when he saw the two of you struggling to keep your kids from beating up their own father. The only response he got from Damian was his signature, “Tt.” He knew Jason deserved a good beating, he was just disappointed it wasn’t from him.

“Jason Thomas and Jasmine Martha Todd-Wayne” you exhaled sharply after the mouthful of words. It was shocking to see how high your son could kick not to mention how strong. 

The kids stopped knowing you meant business when you called them by their full name. They stood side by side supporting each other for what they thought was a job well done. 

“I asked you to stop. do you know what you did?”

The nodded in unison, “The opposite.”

“Apologize,” you weren’t good at apologies so you didn’t expect them to be either. They had the same ego you did and could hardly admit they were wrong much less remorseful for their actions.

You didn’t know how it was possible but they were pouting and scowling at the same time. Their brows furrowed in the middle showing their irritation. “She’s sorry...” Little Jay apologized for his sister’s actions and she reciprocated by doing the same. “He’s sorry too... but you had it coming.”

“Jas-”

“It’s true Uncle Grayson!” 

“He was trying to suffocate mother by stealing all of her oxygen!” Little Jay added as he wrapped his arms around you, he was a real Mama’s boy.

Dick burst out laughing at their argument realizing the kids had fought Jason because he kissed their mother. The atmosphere in the cave lightened when even Damian began to chuckle at his niece and nephew’s innocence.  

“I wasn’t stealing anything, she kissed me.” Jason kept his distance but still tried to defend himself against the five-year-olds. 

“Liar!” the kids yelled. 

They would have continued to say more but their attention turned to the dark figure that appeared behind Jason. “What are you doing here?” 

“Batman!”

“Grandfather!”  

Bruce picked up his grandchildren only to hand them to Tim. “Take them upstairs.” 

When he ordered the kids to be taken away you saw Jason flinch. He took a step forward before lowering his head. He wanted to stop Bruce but didn’t know if he had a right to. “Father wait...” You stood by Jason even going as far as holding his hand. “I have to tell them.” 

Jason smiled glad to have you on his side. He didn’t care if everyone else hated him as long as you were on his side. It was like back in his Robin days when you would stick up for him after he got into a fight with anybody, including your father. 

Bruce’s eyes narrowed at Jason, your response to his reappearance wasn’t what he was expecting at all. He was all for children being raised by both parents but his grandchildren had the misfortune to have parents with questionable morals. It took him almost two years to get you back but he was able to redeem you. He did it for his grandchildren...his grandchildren that spend their first two years being cared for by everyone but their mother. Now for their sake, he would do the same for their father. “Tell them... but after you know what Jason has done while he was gone.”

-end-

[ Part 2 ] You find out he is Red Hood.

A/N: Does this need any warnings? 

[frogmanwritings]

Twinkle : Prologue

My name is Garfield Logan Wilson. I use to be a normal kid, living with my parents and going with them as they traveled around the world. I believe they were scientists? That or they just had a strange obsession with nature, so much so they made it their entire life. Regardless, I loved them. They kept me safe, I loved observing the wild life in their rovers and while they aren't exactly fighting tough competition, they were the best thing I have ever had.

But... it all started with some green monkey. Weird, right? Me, being the special kind of dumbass I am, climbed up a tree to try and... pet it, maybe? I was 10, your brain doesn't exactly function all that well at that age. But to move on, it bit me. Instead of Rabies, I got something called Sakutia. And it was killing me.

Any other day, I wished it did. But we'll go into why that is later. My father, good man, managed to save my life. Mutated my genes that infected me and managed to make the virus non-deadly. The catch? I turned green and I could transform into animals.

Life went on surprisingly as usual from there, that is until..

My parents were boating along a river through a tropical jungle, taking photographs of the scenery. I was along with them, enjoying myself like a kid's suppose to. But we didn't scout out the river's path fully before deciding to go boating on it and as it turns out, there was a massive waterfall at the end of it. The rushing water was too strong to swim through and land was too far away to make any sort of Olympic leap to safety.

I... managed to escape. Again, another scenario where I wished I had just died. Transforming into a bird, I managed to fly to safety where I watched my parents and their boat fall down the waterfall.

I never found their bodies. And I never will. Who knows where their carcasses are now, found by locals, devoured by predators, vanished into thin air? It doesn't matter to me. All I knew when I saw their bodies crash into the out-pointed stones of the plunge, as well as crashing into the water several stories below, is that my life might as well have been over like theirs.

But it wasn't.

Slade Wilson, my... father saved me. And that's the last time you'll hear me say his name.

He never told me, but he was, and still is, a deadly assassin that traveled the world and made his money by killing people. And he just so happened to be in Lamumba on one of his hits when he encountered a green, sobbing mess. He took me in, and that's where my life began again.

He was kind enough when he was first taking me in. Was it a charade to get me to trust him? If it was, it worked. I thought things would go back to normal, if that was even possible. I could live as a normal kid with a newfound father. But soon, I had to learn how to fight. Guns, swords, knives, axes, and as my claws grew in, he molded me into a master of all of them. And once he found out I could transform into animals? He'd have me go days and days on without rest until I could beat even the best of fighters in each of my almost unlimited list of forms.

Oh, but it didn't end there. He made sure that any chance I had of being 'normal' was evaporated over the years. I ate, and still eat, nothing but raw meat. But at least those were varied, pretty sure I've eaten the meat of every species at least once, including humans. They all tasted awful and I vomited it all up in the earlier days. Now? I'm pretty sure I can eat anything without even a second thought. And I mean anything.

When I first gained my 'powers', I turned into a vegetarian, as eating animals just felt... wrong then. It was cannibalism. But that didn't stop him. He forced the meat of the very animals I could transform into down my throat until I grew, not even to like it, but to tolerate it. Even now, I take no sort of pleasure in meat, it's simply a chewy chunk of some unlucky animal that I have to gobble down in order to stay alive.

Sunlight was a rarity. I used to think when he cracked open the dark-tinted window in my cellar, it was an accident. But thinking about it now, maybe he was just giving me false hope of things ever getting better for me. A light at the end of an endless tunnel. A single star on a cloudy night.

Oh, did I mention the cellar? That's putting it lightly.

A dark, stone room with not a soft spot in its unbearably small space. The only thing with color in it was a thick wooden pole that had a chain wrapped around it and a hook. Why was that there? Well, to restrain me like a dog during the night, of course! He... never sleeps, he has security cameras all over the goddamn place, not to mention traps and even bodyguards waiting for me to foolishly try to escape to take me down, and yet.. he still makes sure I stay right where he wants me to during the dark.

The hook on the chain attaches to my collar like a leash. Yes, I have a collar and I will not talk on it anymore. The chain isn't more than a foot long, not like there's much space to walk around, hardly even letting me lay my head fully onto the fucking ground, let alone get any sort of comfortable rest.

He never told me what he does as a job, but I caught on rather quickly. A guy goes out with army-grade weapons and returns with a bag of cash so many times, you kinda catch on. How he taught me to fight, both with blades, guns and with my bare hands, he wasn't just some karate instructor and I knew that he had to have acquired his wealth somehow.

I had begged him multiple times to let me JOIN him on these assassinations, just so I could go out and do... something that wasn't constant training. Of course, he declined, saying something about him working best 'alone'. And I knew right away that was bullshit, but it took a considerable amount of time before I realized just WHY that was bullshit.

While I was locked in a goddamn cellar, tossing around pebbles that were littered on the ground and eating any poor spider that decided to make the prison their home, he was doing 'business' in Jump City.

My father is a very secretive man, never telling me the place of where we lived, but not long ago, he finally told me. Jump City. Some place in New York that you could hardly point out on a map. Keep in mind, I had lived with him with several years, I believe it's reached the 5th year now? And only a few days ago do I actually know where I goddamn live. Not that it matters, since it's not like I was going out and exploring the place.

But, to the point. He acquired an ally by the name of 'Cinderblock', a giant stone monster with incredible strength and a pebble for a brain. He was his first real tool to commit local crimes while he either plotted or went out of state and country to murder people. It went rather smooth for a few months until my father realized he needed more than just him.

Cinderblock then stole a poor fella from prison, enclosed in a water tank, to forever sleep. Lucky fuck, ain't he? Well there's a reason he was always asleep. Something to do with his cells or something has made him a mutant, a bit like me in a way. Whenever he's awake, he transforms into a monstrous monster, like Cinderblock. But instead of being made of stone, it's sludge. Putrid, vile sludge. Got a whiff of it after my father had some on his boot, and it's disgusting.

The two of them were good, but... still not enough for him. So he goes and acquires HUMAN help, because apparently I'm not a human. H.I.V.E. Academy is a training ground for young supervillains disguised as a school led by Brother Blood. The two of them have talked on occasion, but Mr. Blood usually just lets his mistress do the talking while he's busy managing the 'school'.

The three top 'students' of the academy then began to do crimes for him. Going by the names of Jinx, Gizmo and Mammoth, I don't have a clue just what any of them look like or what they do, but apparently they were powerhouses of Jump City for a brief point, taking down police forces and... other crimefighters(I'll get to that), but were eventually defeated, and ever since then, went on to do independent crimes while my father moved onto a different target.

Alright, this is where I talk about why I'm even talking about this in the first place.

I am finally being sent out to do my father's bidding. After half a decade of training and numerous failed experiments, I am now allowed to go out into the city and do what he tells me to. Be it petty crimes like robbing jewelry stores, terrorizing local establishments or even being used as muscle to teach whoever my father wants me to a lesson. Police aren't a concern of mine. What my concern is?

The Teen Titans.

Five teenage superheroes that operate in Jump City and act as its local guardians. I have heard of them a few times, as they have become the source of my father's interests and frustrations. But I've never seen one of them, let alone what they can do in combat, so I'll just recite the files my father has on them.

Name: Dick Grayson

Alias: Robin

History: Former circus worker with his parents. Parents were assassinated, which was then staged as an accident after their ropes snapped. Was sent into adoptive care until Batman of Gotham adopted him and trained him to become his sidekick. Growing older and getting into disputes with his adoptive father, he ran off, eventually coming to Jump City and forming the Teen Titans after a fately encounter with his three future teammates.

Powers: N/A

Abilities: Top detective skills, master of hand-to-hand combat, very athletic and acrobatic

Weapons: Bo Staff, Birdarangs(Shock), Grapple Gun, Smoke Balls, Flashbangs, Ammunition Discs, Trackers

Armor: Kevlar and Titanium-enforced Bodysuit, Metal-Plated Boots

Weaknesses: Human Body, Human limitations in all skills, Risk-happy, can get Obsessed with targets and even seem unstable at times

Strategy: Robin is a peak athlete, but is still only human. He's durable, but not invulnerable. Strong, but not herculean. Fast, but not blazing. Mental fortitude is shaky, easy to get upset. Not incredibly accurate with his ranged weapons. Has very close bond with Starfire, exploit this. Not very difficult to overpower, though technically skilled and fast. Wear him out before going in close. Has shown mercy to foes in the past, try and fool him.

Name: Koriand'r

Alias: Starfire

History: Crash-landed on Earth while being captured by aliens. Was eventually saved by her three future teammates.

Powers: Superhuman Strength/Durability, Flight, Tamaranean Psychology, Superhuman Agility, Energy Projection(Eyes, Hands), Radiation Immunity, Lip-to-Lip Language Assimilation

Abilities: Hand-to-Hand Combat, Sword and Shield skills

Weapons: Starbolts(Eyes, Hands)

Armor: Tamaranean Durability, Can use Energy Projection as Shield

Weaknesses: Powers based on Emotion, Naive, Extremely protective of teammates, Mentally sensitive

Strategy: Starfire is physically the strongest and most durable of the Titans. Can be taken down if hit by surprise. Overly protected of teammates, put them in danger and she will risk herself to save them. Very close bond with Robin, exploit this. Speed on ground seems to be human level, get her grounded. Starbolts come from Eyes and Hands. Blind her and/or restraint her hands. Very naive, won't be difficult to fool and take advantage of.

Name: Victor Stone

Alias: Cyborg

History: Mother died in car crash, Father saved him by turning more than half of his body into cybernetics. Ridiculed and insulted, Victor ran away, eventually finding his future three other teammates in Jump City.

Powers: Superhuman Strength/Durability, Superhuman Genius, Psychic (near)Immunity

Abilities: Hand-To-Hand Combat, Advanced Warrior Skills, Mechanical Genius

Weapons: Sonic Cannon(Both Arms), Mini-Rocket Launchers on Soles of Feet, Rocket Launchers on Shoulders, Laser Beam(Chest), Trackers, Computer System

Armor: Titanium Cybernetic Body, Detachable Limbs

Weaknesses: Partially exposed head, Requires Power, Electric Overcharge, Mobility

Strategy: Cyborg is perhaps the smartest of the Titans. Robotic limps strong but not unbreakable, try breaking them off using brute force. Limited mobility, easy to outspeed and outmaneuver. Power Charge can be drained and turn him off, try and find something that can absorb his charge. His body can get overcharged, resulting in shortages and outages.

Name: Raven

Alias: N/A

History: Daughter of demonic overlord, Trigon. Was raised in realm called Azarath, which was eventually overtaken and destroyed by Trigon. Escaped to Earth, where she eventually found her three future teammates in Jump City.

Powers: Dark/Shadow Control, Astral Projection, Telekinesis, Telekinetic Constructs/Force-Fields/Teleportation/Flight, Levitation, Empathy, Spell-Casting, Healing

Abilities: Master of Spells, Multilingual, Hand-To-Hand Combat

Weapons: N/A

Armor: N/A

Weaknesses: Anger, Can't cast spells when unable to speak, Relies on nearby objects as weapons

Strategy: Raven is the most powerful of the Titans. Only decent in hand-to-hand combat, should be easy to overpower and take down. Spells depend on her chants, try to gag her or close off her mouth. Anger, when angry enough, she loses all control of her power and any sort of strategy. Be cautious when approaching this, as Raven seems to have no problem killing in this form. It is recommended to have some way to restraint or to overpower the demon's dark side when doing this. Can be manipulated at times, lacks someone she is truly close with. Can be used to try and get close to her.

A fun bunch they seem like.

My father previously tried to turn their leader, Robin, into his apprentice, and almost succeeded by using the safety of his teammates against him, but his plans eventually fell through and Robin escaped him.

This... really bothered him. Whoever this Robin is, it seems my father had a great interest in him. I've heard him say that he sees a lot of himself in the boy, and how he would've loved to make the boy as powerful as he could've been.

As much as he is a piece of... crap, I have no one else in my life. What did that boy have that I didn't? He was the apprentice of some superhero? I can turn into goddamn animals! I've lived with him for five years and still he looked for some caped crusader to make his apprentice instead of me! Why couldn't I have that validity?

But... moving on, Father eventually moved his eye to a young teenager by the name of Terra. The Titans found her first and took her in, but it was clear right away she didn't hold much control over her earth-bending powers. And after a confrontation between the two where he tried to convince her to join him, Terra ended up accidentally collapsing a mineshaft down ontop of her, killing her. Looking at pictures of her, she was definitely pretty. Seemed she had a troubled past as well, with her family and friends calling her a 'witch' because of her powers and even tried to kill her because of it. Life is... messed up that way.

And now, over a year later... finally, he chose me.

It... sucks being a last resort, but I'm just glad that I can go out on my own now, even if it's under watch. To put to the test my true skill and to show Father why he should've chose ME in the first place! I'm set to grab the Titans' attention by infiltrating a laboratory to steal a mechanical staff, said to have an explosive tip and even have electric properties. Easy to see why Father would want that.

But.. I guess that's it. For the first time in years, I'm finally looking forward to something. And I'll show those Titans a thing or two along the way. My father isn't perfect, but.. he's the only one who has given me anything since my parents died. If he has a problem with them, I have a problem with them.

Watch out Teen Titans, Garfield Wilson is coming!

[moonlightwrites12345]

Joker’s Daughter AU Story idea.

It was all a blur to Melissa. How on earth did she end up dangling above a chemical vat? All she could remember was cold, insane laughter and crying lots of crying. The Joker and Harley no doubt but where was Ivy? The smoke, the burning, the plants. Someone had set the plants on fire. She had to get out of here but she couldn't move. Her arms and legs were bound and she was gagged.

"HA HA! THIS WILL BE THE SECOND GREATEST JOKE EVER!"

Melissa couldn't see the Joker but he was there. Melissa started to struggle helplessly. The rope that held her above the vat was slashed in two and she fell.

SPLASH.

Right into the vat, she fell. She passed out convinced that she was going to drown but somehow she survived. Batman had pulled her out while she was unconscious. Harley looked on horrified as the paramedics loaded her sister into the ambulance. This was all her fault. Because of her, Melissa had gotten hurt.

Melissa had been bleached white just like the Joker. Her once brown hair was now a blue-ish color as well. All because of her.

…...

When Melissa awoke in the hospital and saw her reflection in a nearby window she screamed. It was a shrill ear-busting horrendous loud noise that busted the window. The doctors and nurses rushed in and had to tie her down. After that they fed her. Once they were finished they filed out of the room. Two nurses whispered horrible things as they left. Things that Melissa was terrified to hear them say.

"Someone call Arkham quickly,"

"Yeah, there's a female Joker in this hospital,"

Melissa cried bitterly. She, she was crazy as the Joker. She was no better than the Joker. Melissa felt no different than she had prior to her incident but she was terrified that could change. That could change at any moment and she would be powerless to do anything about it.

"I see you're awake,"

Melissa looked up startled to see the Joker step out of the shadows.

"Aren't you supposed to be locked up?"

"Aren't you?" the Joker laughed menacingly.

Melissa choked on bile that was rising in her throat.

"Lissa, Lissa, Lissa I'm the only one who will ever understand now,"

"Don't call me that," Melissa growled out.

"You know it's true. The doctors are calling Arkham right now to pick you up,"

"No,"

"Yes, but come with me and you'll be safe."

"I'm not going with you,"

"Harley wants to see you,"

They went back and forth and back and forth with each other before Melissa went reluctantly with the Joker. He brought her to a hideout near the docks in a rundown part of town. Stepping inside, Melissa saw the crates of weapons disguised as toys. Harley was nowhere to be seen. Melissa turned to Joker with a questioning glance.

"Wait here while I save Harley from Arkham in the meantime, she has some clothes you can borrow,"

Joker left Melissa alone in the warehouse. Melissa sat down and tried to withhold tears. Ivy had taught her long ago never to show weakness. Showing weakness in the backstreets and alleyways of Gotham could get you hurt or killed. At that moment, Melissa could care less. She struggled to get changed. She slipped into a diamond-printed tank top, black pajama pants and red slip-on shoes. She fell to the floor quietly reflecting on the events that had transpired. She was crazy. As insane as the Joker. She was dangerous, she was a monster.

All time was lost to Melissa who simply sat on the floor and stared at a crate filled with weapons. She didn't even move when Bud and Lou sniffed her out and plopped down across her lap. She didn't care that they were vying for her attention. She was far too disheartened to care. She didn't want to be crazy. She didn't want to slowly slip into insanity. Why all of this why her? What was she supposed to do about it? At first, she didn't even realize that Joker and Harley had returned until Harley wrapped her in a hug.

'Lissa I'm so, so sorry,"

Melissa cried harder.

…...

Life with the Joker was as unstable and unpredictable as one would expect it to be. Melissa stuck around for two reasons. One so he wouldn't hurt Harley. Two so she would be thrown into Arkham. Many, many sleepless nights were spent listening as Joker ranted about how he was going to kill Batman. Melissa eventually learned how to tune him out and get some sleep on the broken couch against the back wall. Every day was the same. Melissa would wake up, Harley would brush her hair whispering promises about how she was okay, how she was still sane before running off to get some food for Melissa. While Harley was gone Melissa was forced to 'learn a few things from "daddy". Melissa despised this time of day/. Loathed it with every fiber of her being. Yet. She had to sit through it or Harley would be hurt.

So, she sat through lessons on firearms and explosives. Much to her dismay.

Then there were the blessed times when Joker and Harley were gone. During these times Melissa often slipped away to visit her old home in the waste dump but what she didn't know was that she was being tailed by a certain boy wonder at every given chance. What had started out as a dead end case for Bruce had become Dick's hobby. The case of 'the female Joker' as the media was calling it intrigued him. This girl didn't appear insane at all but she clearly believed she was. Currently, Robin was perched on a roof overlooking the street that the girl was headed down. Too bad he didn't know her name. He felt bad for her. She always seemed on the verge of tears.

"I'm doomed," she muttered.

Robin wanted to help her. Save her. She seemed like she needed that.

…...

Melissa arrived in the dump and cautiously entered the broken-down house. She couldn't stay for very long but she couldn't keep herself from visiting. She looked around. Parts of the walls were charred but not much else had been done. Melissa was thankful if the blaze had gotten out of control then her home would be little more than ash. She went about collecting the notes and books Ivy had left her. Even Ivy knew that if Melissa were to leave Joker's watchful eye for long Harley would get it.

Melissa came and went but Robin didn't instead, he waited for Ivy's return just outside the dump. When Ivy did show she wasn't armed which was good so, Robin made his move catching Ivy off guard.

"In case you're unaware I've been declared sane," Ivy stated curtly.

"I've heard. I want to know about that girl,"

"What girl?"

"The Joker Girl. The one who's been visiting,"

"What do you want to know?"

"Her name,"

"I don't know her name,"

"Yeah right,"

"I don't know her name. Her birth name,"

"Fine then what do you call her?"

"What's it to you,"

"I want to know,"

"I call her Melissa. Why do you want to know? You've got a crush on her?"

"No,"

"Sure,"

…...

Melissa nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the shadow looming over her. She barely had time to process this before Robin jumped down and blocked her path.

Uh-oh.

Robin meant one thing.

Arkham.

She turned to run. She knew of more than one way to get there. However, Robin kept on her tail. She was so worried that she took a wrong turn and ended up in a dead-end alleyway.

"You finally stopped," Robin commented as he dropped in front of her.

Melissa stayed completely silent.

"I'm not going to hurt you if that's what you're thinking,"

Silence.

Robin was puzzled until it clicked.

"You think I'm going to take you to Arkham."

Then Melissa spotted the fire escape above her. She had to act quickly. She jumped up and grabbed the bars. Swinging and kicking she managed to knock Robin out. She scrambled up to the roof of the building. She ran so fast and so long she could feel her heart beating crazily against her chest. She slid into the warehouse and slammed the door shut behind her. With a relieved sigh, Melissa fell on the couch with a book in hand. Who knew how much time she had lost?

…...

When Robin woke he was back in the Bat cave and being patched up by Alfred. He knew Batman was there from the icy chill on his neck curtsy of a hard glare. He was in for it. He knew he had it coming when he had started doing this a month ago.

"Why?" Batman asked flatly as Robin sat up and turned to face his mentor.

"Because I wondered,"

"Wondered what?"

"About her,"

"And what did you find out?"

"Her name's Melissa,"

"And?"

"She doesn't appear to be insane at all,"

Batman seemed intrigued by this.

"Fine, keep tabs on her but don't confront her again,"

…...

Three weeks later, Batman burst in Joker ran leaving Harley and Melissa to face Robin. Harley hid Melissa before taking on Robin. Melissa listened from her hiding spot catching the occasional movement. Then it all went silent. Melissa held her breath. Maybe Harley had gotten lucky and bested the boy wonder? Sadly, for Melissa, this was not the case as Robin was the one who opened the door to her hiding place.

Melissa was screwed.

…...

The good news was she didn't end up in Arkham.

The bad news was she DID end up in a correctional dentition center.

She knew she would be here for long. If the Joker got out he'd come for her. What his plan was she honestly couldn't tell you but he had to have some type of plan

Everyone avoided her. Even the roughest, toughest kids were scared of the insane joker girl as they liked to call her. Thus, she was often times left alone. Melissa was usually all for solitude but after nearly two months with the joker, she wanted some sane company. Someone who didn't punctuate their sentences with insane laughter. So, in an effort to fit in she started covering her skin. Using body paints to give herself a normal skin color and not the bleached white skin she was stuck with.

Three weeks into her stay at the correctional facility and a new kid was brought in. although Melissa swore she had never seen him before this kid seemed familiar to her. Even though she was intrigued she stayed away. However, he seemed interested in her. One day during lunch he dropped into the seat across from her.

"So, what'd you do to wind up here?" he asked in the thickest southern accent Melissa had heard in her life.

"Rather not say," Melissa responded as she studied the boy before her. "You?"

"I'd also like to keep that to myself,"

"Then why did you ask me?" Melissa questioned.

"Just tryin' to make conversation,"

"Wouldn't it be easier to ask my name?"

"I suppose. So, what is your name?"

"Melissa,"

"Mine's Jake,"

Except 'Jake' wasn't really Jake.

He was Dick Grayson in disguise.

[kdenbibi]

Ya Rouhi

Authors note: “(H/n)” stands for hero name. My hand slipped and I wrote an angsty dami fic no one asked for lol if y’all want a part 2 let me know//??////////?//////??////?/ also i used google translate for the Arabic so forgive me if theres any mistakes, Ya Rouhi should translate to “You are my soul.” 

Warnings: A N G S T Y as heck, blood, and violence, swearing

Summery: You have bad timing.

He had contingency plans for everyone on the team, back ups for his back ups and his glorified fanny pack of a belt had nearly everything one would need in case of emergency, the family business only went so well because of the almost concerning amount of planning that went into every patrol and every mission.

He prided himself on being ready for anything life threw his way.

So why didn't he see this coming?

Your mission was supposed to be simple, boring even, you were tasked with Terra to investigate a suspected gang hide out.

You bid everyone a casual goodbye, your eyes lingering on Damian's longer than the rest, it caused the corners of his mouth to twitch upwards.

"See you around pretty bird." He nodded biting back a grin, turning and going to the monitor room to be your look out for the mission.

At this point no one questioned why he happened to be look out every time you went on a mission without him, they were too scared of his reaction but they knew, something was definitely going on between the grumpy boy and yourself.

This unspoken thing between the two of you was understood throughout the team, anyone who looked at the two of you together could pratically see the love you had for each other rolling off of you in waves, which would be the first step to your downfall.

A few hours after you headed out with the newest Titan, Damian checked in for a status update.

"(h/n) report? Any signs of the gang?" He'd never admit it out loud but he was obviously nervous anytime you had to go on a mission without him, it's not that he doubted your abilities but he always felt better if he was there to have your back.

After a few tense moments the com cracked to life lifting a weight off his shoulders.

"Negative Robin, so far it's just this weird warehouse and a whole lot of dust."

"Me and Terra are going to split up, she'll sweep around outside and I guess I'll- wait hold on I think I found something." Damian leaned on the edge of his seat waiting for more information.

"Be careful (h/n)." He spoke trying not to sound as concerned as he was.

"Don't worry about me R, I'm a big girl I can handle myself- sides' if I don't come home who's gonna put up with you?"

Damian felt himself smiling before he cleared his throat and responded.

"Any sign of activity?"

"That's the weird part, this place is more ghost town than it is active gang hide out- where'd we get that tip anyway?"

"It was anonymous ." I answered, the gut feeling that something wasn't right crawled into my mind. "Do one more walk around then head back-" your voice suddenly interrupted him.

"Just out of curiosity, on the blue prints for this building did it mention anything about a super creepy elevator leading down to an equally creepy high tech lab?"

"No-"

"Okay then, either this gang is selling something other than weed or we got a problem on our- "

The line was suddenly overtaken by static, which caused the young Wayne's eyes to go wide, they were on one of the most advanced systems in the world there shouldn't- no couldn't have been interference that bad.

Unless someone sabotaged your equipment.

"(N/n) get out of there now, this is bigger than you, I repeat grab Terra and retreat now- wait for back up." At this point he'd left the desk he was sitting at and began to dress himself in his gear. After another thirty minutes of trying to reach you he prepared the team for a rescue mission, they all gathered in the monitor room to play back your audio transmission in case they came across anything.

"Are we clear on the plan? I'll take the-"

"Damian."

Your voice spoke out so suddenly, taking everyone in the room by surprise, the screen flickered to life showing your bruised and bloodied face.

"Hey." You called giving your team a bloody crooked grin.

He stared at the screen in disbelief.

"(h/n)?"

"Damian I don't have much time." You wheezed out struggling in vain against the tight rope that had you bound.

"What the hell is going on (Y/n)?! Where is Terra? Who attacked you?!" He yelled, hands clenched so tight they began to hurt. The team watched on in silence and fear.

Instead of answering you swallowed thickly and glanced off screen, soon a figure walked on screen to gently pet your head.

"I'm glad you could join us baby bird, me and (Y/n) here have just been getting to know each other, she's a sweet girl, I see why she caught your eye."

Deathstroke's unmistakable voice called out from the screen.

Damian's blood ran cold.

"You picked a firecracker I'll tell you that much." He said rubbing his jaw where a crack in his mask had began to form no doubt from your famous right hook.

"Slade if you touch her again I'll send you to hell myself."

This earned a deep chuckle from the man as he walked towards the camera.

"You'll what? Throw me in jail? Let's not kid ourselves here runt, you've lost your edge, all that hard work and for what? You to go soft." He slowly made his way to your crumpled form.

Yanking you upwards by your hair he bared your throat only to casually press a knife to the soft skin.

"You're weak Damian, you can't hope to save anyone let alone her."

Damian began to panic even more, he knew Slade could end you with a flick of his wrist right now, no matter how much he wanted to lash out he had to play his game until he came up with a plan.

"This is a personal matter between me and the runt, would you mind giving us some privacy?" He spoke to the rest of the team who ahd gathered around the screen.

They all shared a look, knowing it was best to listen to them they silently left the room.

All Damain could do was nod his head, never in his life had he felt this helpless.

"I will admit this kid has some guts, wouldn't tell me anything even when I started cutting away at her."

"What do you want?" Damian asked, voice deadly calm. His chest heaved in ragged breaths at he switched from looking at Slade to the knife.

"Everything she knows about the Titans."

This earned a laugh from your broken from,

"Never gonna happen asshole."

Slade quickly threw you to the floor, chair and all, before swiftly kicking you into the wall.

"-As you can see, she's more stubborn than you, so I'm switching tactics."

"I want personal records of everyone on the team delivered to this location in thirty minutes, just you, no back up, no bats."

"Okay, let her go, I'll have them on a drive for you as soon as I know she's safe." Damian spoke without missing a beat. A part of him was ashamed for folding so soon, but his fear was making rationalizing impossible.

A deep rumble of a laugh left the assassin's mouth.

"Looks like you're not a big an idiot as they say." He walked off screen once more only to come back with a timer.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, though if I were you I'd hurry up, your girlfriend here won't last much longer."

Damian went to work typing at the computer, pulling up his friends files and information, he didn't know what the timer was counting down too but it didn't take much imagination to know when it got to zero you'd be out of time.

Slade appeared to have left because you shot up like a bullet. Apparently his last kick sent you crashing so hard the chair you were strapped to broke, giving you a chance.

"That dickhead sure packs a punch."

"Don't worry I'm going to fix this-"

"It's pointless Damian don't do it."

His head snapped up to glare at you before he continued typing.

"Shut up, I'll give him the information, save you then get it back before he knows what hit him, I just need you to stay awake for me can you do that beloved?"

A goofy grin found its way on your bruised face as you got closer to the screen.

"You called me beloved."

"Yes, I'm going to be calling you that for the rest of our days because you're getting out of this you understand me? This is going to be a story you tell our kids."

"Now we have kids? You haven't even taken me to dinner."

He looked away from his task to give you the best half of a smile he could manage.

"Yet."

Your smile fell as you looked off screen to take in your surroundings.

"Dami stop."

"No I can do this I just need to concentrate."

"Damian please." Your voice was stern, despite your shaking form.

"The elevators down, I got a useless leg and even if i somehow managed to make it up all those stairs-" His typing finally stopped as he looked at you.

"Look I'm no Batman but I'm pretty sure this place is rigged to blow." You spoke glancing at the timer with a look he couldn't pin down.

 Fear, anxiety, acceptance.

"Don't come- I know what you're thinking but there isn't a way out this time." Your voice cracked as you stared at his face through the gritty camera .

"This was never about information, he wanted you to come here so you'd be killed too."

"Stop talking as if you're already dead!" He yelled trying to hold back his own tears.

"I can do it..." He spoke in a broken voice trying his best to think of a way out.

"This isn't on you Dami you hear me?" You spoke through your tears completly ignoring him.

"I love you- and I know I have the worst timing ever and these are kinda shitty last words but I'm freaking out a little and I know it's selfish to ask but please stay here- with me."

He looked up from the floor to meet your eye.

"Ya Rouhi." He spoke in his mother tongue, and you didn't know Arabic but you didn't need to, to know he felt the same.

Seconds felt like hours as your screen began to shake, alarms wailed in the distance as whatever device Slade had set began to go off throughout the building.

Your hair fell loosely around your head, the blood and dirt caked on your skin did nothing to hide your beauty, now with tear stained eyes you managed to look like star. You graced him with a smile, never looking away from him, despite the growing destruction around you.

You opened your mouth to say something, what that was he'll never know, because in an instant the screen went black. 

A lost connection logo blinked at his still form.

Everything and nothing ran through his mind all at once.

He felt his knees hit the floor. Ice spread through his chest as he tried to move, to go to you, to tell someone, to do something-

But the ice in his veins had settled, and the light in his eyes was gone.

[farbsturz]

title: Can you hear me?

fandom: batman (comics)

characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake

rating: general

word count: 1558

AO3

beta reader: @mildlycuriousdragon​

this is for @kanekill​, I told them months ago I would write some Tim & Damian fluff!

description:

Both Alfred the cat and Titus laid comfortably on his bed as Damian continued to play the violin, a small sigh escaping him as the stress and burden was lifted from his heart. He moved with the music, his body seemingly dancing on its own and the boy almost lost himself between the notes.

If it wasn’t for the sudden presence he felt.

Shit. Why the hell was Drake at home?

An escape from reality. That was all this was. An useless attempt to create his own world, his own rules. A break from who he was supposed to be. Another time, maybe, where he wasn’t the son of a billionaire. Where he wasn’t the heir to an assassin organization or a vigilante in a flashy costume.

A time where he was nothing.

And where music was everything.

Fingers danced with strings, changed partners over and over again as the bow directed the pace of his thoughts and emotions. It wasn’t often that Damian actually found the manor completely empty of any life and distraction. It was silly and childish of him but the boy had found himself unwilling to play when his family was around. Both his paintings and his music acted as an escape to his own imagination and he felt as if he would reveal his weaknesses if someone were to listen to his way of expressing.

He was living in a world dictated by words and no matter how much he said, he seemed to be mute. Words were empty. They were a mere tool and weapon to get whatever you desired. But music and art were pure. A way of reflecting one’s soul, no hiding or deceiving. These short moments in which green eyes were closed, in which his hands seemingly moved by themselves - these were the moments in which he was simply Damian. No last name. No reputation. No responsibilities.

Both Alfred the cat and Titus laid comfortably on his bed as Damian continued to play the violin, a small sigh escaping him as the stress and burden was lifted from his heart. He moved with the music, his body seemingly dancing on its own and the boy almost lost himself between the notes.

If it wasn’t for the sudden presence he felt.

Like a bucket full of ice cubes had been pulled over his head, Damian found himself back in reality sooner than he had liked. Fingers were stuck in place and green reluctantly opened to stare at the intruder standing in his doorway.

Shit. Why the hell was Drake at home?

Damian ignored the upcoming embarrassment from being caught in a passionate and vulnerable situation, hid the reddening cheeks behind a mask of anger. He didn’t need his brothers to make even more fun of him then they already did.

Lowering the instrument, Damian held onto the bow as if it resembled a sword and silently threatened the older boy to not make a snarky comment. No matter how far they have gotten, Tim’s and his relationship still wasn’t the best in the manor. While he didn’t try to strangle his brother in his sleep anymore, they were far from being each other’s favourite. Damian didn’t even know whether he would have preferred being caught by Todd, who at least showed interest in classics.

But this was Tim Drake. The chosen son. The detective. The one who resembled his father the most. And while Damian hated to admit it, he knew that Drake’s intelligence regarding strategies and technology was superior to his. He was jealous on Drake’s reputation, hated how both his father and even his grandfather saw him as worthy and equal. And Damian? Damian was the biological son who had been forced onto his father. Who hadn’t been wanted at the beginning. And even now Drake had still refused to accept him. As Robin. As part of the family.

Things had gotten better after he had… well, died and come back. A part of him was still wondering just why Drake had accompanied the others to Apokolips, whether it was merely to make sure that his father was alright or maybe a part of him had actually cared about Damian. They hadn’t talked a lot since then and the current Robin didn’t quite know what to make out of it.

His train of thoughts brought him back to the present and it was only now that Damian actually noticed the state his brother was in. Drake’s body language screamed of exhaustion and the dark circles spoke volumes about the other’s well-being. With a slumped back, an outworn shirt and pants it was more than obvious that Drake hadn’t rested in a while. Damian slightly dropped his defense and waited for some kind of reaction, trying to retain his stance as the other took him in as well.

“I didn’t know you play the violin.”

Damian blinked at that. It was such a… casual statement. He didn’t know what he had expected but this actually sounded like the start of some smalltalk. Something he and Drake never had before.

“Mother wanted me to be skilled in many fields, both in and out of battle.”

Moving to place the instrument back into its case, the boy froze as he heard his brother speaking up again.

“You don’t have to stop on my account, you know? I was just heading for the kitchen. It seemed as if you were enjoying it so just continue.”

The current Robin looked over his shoulder, still frozen in his movement, and searched for any ill intention behind these words. However, tired eyes gave nothing away but sincerity and with some hesitation, Damian moved to stand straight again.

Awkward silence began to spread between the brothers and the boy didn’t know how to act. It was unknown territory they were both on and Damian expected to trip onto a hidden landmine only to trigger yet another typical argument.

But nothing came.

“Anyway.” Drake coughed and ruffled the back of his hair as he pointed into a direction “I will leave then… It sounded good, Damian. I’m sure Dick would love to listen to it sometime.”

“Wait.”

Shit. Damian hadn’t meant to speak up. His brother stopped in his movement to study him with curious blue and the boy had to swallow the lump in his throat. Act indifferently. Pointing at his bed, he lifted his chin to show some authority.

“Sit down.”

He bit his lips.

“…please.”

Damn it, where was Grayson when you needed him to take over the social interaction for you. But surprisingly Drake did as he had been told after a lot of consideration and green eyes followed the other as he slowly walked towards the bed. Both Alfred and Titus looked up from their places and began to make room for their newest addition on the comfortable blanket. Damian almost wanted to laugh at the awkwardness in Drake’s body language but he didn’t want to destroy what little of conversation they had ongoing. His heart began to beat faster at the idea of having audience but the boy willed himself to calm down as he once again placed his chin on the violin, body in perfect position as the bow kissed the strings.

A single long tone began to fill the room and with new found confidence Damian picked up his own symphony where he had left off. All tension poured out of him as he began to move to the music, eyes closed as his imagination caught him from the fall out of reality. Soon enough had he forgotten about the other presence in his room, nothing existed besides his own being and the instrument in his hands.

He played and played, spoke through every tone and a smile lingered on his lips as he told an unknown story with his fingers. Damian didn’t care whether no one understood his ‘words’, he continued to sing, yell and explain through the violin.

Not knowing how much time has passed, the boy clicked his tongue the next time he entered reality. His eyes opened and Damian was quite surprised upon what he saw. While he had expected Drake to leave at some point, it was now that he saw the sleeping form of his brother on the bed. Both Alfred and Titus had wrapped themselves around the teenager for additional warmth and Damian could see a peaceful expression on Drake’s face. He didn’t know how long the other had been awake but it seemed as if Damian’s play had acted as a much needed lullaby. Whether he should feel insulted that his brother had fallen asleep instead of listening, Damian didn’t know. But for now it seemed acceptable.

The instrument was placed in its case as quietly as possible and Damian gestured for his pets to stay where they were. Sure, he and Drake didn’t always get along but it was obvious how much his brother needed the sleep.

The lights were turned off and Damian tiptoed out of his own room, closing the door behind himself. He sauntered down the empty halls of the manor and wondered what case Drake had worked on. His way finally led him down towards the batcave and the boy found the computer still turned on, several folders and notes opened. With a click on his tongue Damian sat down in front of them and began to look through the files. Maybe he could finish most of the work before Drake woke up again.

Sure, Damian didn’t have the best relationship with his family but he had always been better at showing his thoughts through actions than words. And if this meant Drake could get some hours of sleep, he was willing to work through the night.

[ungoliantschilde]

DC Questions: If Red Robin kept a file on Red Hood like he did his enemies, allies AND the new Robin, how many of his strengths and weaknesses will be inside the file? Will RR be able to use Red Hood's weaknesses to his advantage if RH decides to attack him again? And finally, what weaknesses do you think Jason has? Note: This scenario will happen in the Pre-Flashpoint DC Universe continuity.

Tim has been repeatedly cited as being the best detective of the Robins. He is not the best fighter, nor is he suited to take over for Batman. Tim is a detective, and the Red Robin persona is where he belongs.

Jason, on the other hand, is the worst of the Robins. Not because of his skills, but because of his attitude. He does not have the temperament to be anything other than the Red Hood persona he has taken over. It fits him. Jason is quite capable of fighting and beating people up, his biggest weakness is his character. He is a hothead that will lose his head in a fight, and Tim would use that against him.

Martial Arts at the level that the Bat family practices it is more like a chess match than a bloodsport. A mental thing, and the physical is just the expression thereof. Think how Batman fights. He attacks a group of Thugs by not just focusing on them one at a time. He is fighting 5 steps ahead. He does the maximum amount of damage to incapacitate without seriously maiming, and he is doing it with the knowledge that the first guy he takes out is just part of the larger scheme, so he has to move quick. Surgical, precise attacks. A chess match, not a bar brawl.

Jason understands how to move the chess pieces, but he does not understand how to play the match AND keep his emotions out of the equation. Tim does.

Tim can hold his own, especially with his bow staff at hand. All he would have to do is keep Jason angry, and Jason would wind up beating himself. Like he always does.