#and like half the rogues in Gotham know this from experience

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

[escelia]

Thank you so much to everyone who enjoyed the first part! I hope I didn't miss anyone in the tags.

You can click here to read the prologue and here to read part one.

Enjoy~

Not So Normal pt2

Bruce had gathered his whole brood in the Batcave for their debrief. This time, Danny included. He'd hoped that one day he would bring Danny down here and tell him all about their nightly activities, just not so soon. His newest son didn't even seem fazed at all by all the vigilantes flooding into the cave. Not that that really meant anything with him floating down through the ceiling with Dick and Damian in hand. To think one of the kids living under his own roof was a meta and he hadn't noticed… he had to step up his game as Gotham's greatest detective.

"Is the Joker alive?" Was Bruce's first question once everyone was situated and settled. He had a personal rule about not killing his rogues, but honestly, after what the Joker pulled, he thought he might be able to overlook it. After all, when an eldritch being takes a life, who is he to argue?

"Of course he's alive! Nobody dies when I get involved." Danny puffed his chest proudly. He hadn't broken his no casualty streak since he started hero work over a year ago. Not many heroes could say that, and Danny worked damn hard to keep it that way.

Bruce let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Out of relief or disappointment, he didn't know.

"Next question. Where and what is 'clown jail?'"

"It's a subspace of the Infinite Realms." The detective tucked that term away for questioning later. "It's a trick I picked up from my Head Guard back in the Realms. It's basically a space where you experience whatever punishment I think fits your crime. But it's all psychological, so no one ever gets hurt there."

"And what's his punishment?"

"Are you a meta or an alien? I can't tell at this point."

"How long have you known about us?"

"Why did you look so different back at the warehouse?"

"You have a Head Guard?"

The questions came in like a flood. Danny flushed at all the attention, unsure where to start first. He looked to Damian for help, but he only folded his arms and smiled smugly. That little traitor! But he supposed that's what he deserved for waiting so long to tell his family. In his defense, the last time he told a family about his abilities he'd ended up strapped to a table with a scalpel poking at his spleen.

"One question at a time, please!” Danny screeched, covering his face in embarrassment. He stared at Damian pleadingly one more time.

"I told you to tell them before something drastic happened, so don't look at me. "

"You knew?" Jason pouted. Damian just smirked and puffed his chest in pride. He knew exactly why Daniel hadn't told them, but had been confident that his new family wouldn't react the way his old one had. Perhaps this would teach Daniel to trust him a bit more. And wasn't it something that Damian wanted Daniel to trust him.

"They aren't like the Fentons, Daniel. You should tell them."

The words were like a balm on Danny's nerves. The others were smiling patiently at him, judgment absent in favor of eager curiosity but not in the cruel way it had been on Jack and Maddie's faces. He took a deep breath before starting in on the details. No place like the beginning, he guessed.

He told them about how he half died when he was 14 and all the abilities he gained as a result. He told them about his hunter parents and his colorful array of rogues turned friends. Bruce had paled considerably when he got to the part about Pariah Dark whisking their town away and his subsequent defeat of the Ghost King. And he looked downright nauseous when Danny detailed his victories over several of the more godlike entities of the Realms, like Overgrowth and Vortex. He left out Dan, skipping to the part where he'd effectively become the ward and apprentice to the Master of Time, Clockwork. And finally, he told them about Jack and Maddie.

When he'd stumbled into Gotham after the vivisection and begged Bruce to take him away, to protect him, "please, I just wanna feel safe again," he'd told him that it was abuse and refused to outline the details. This time, he looked him in the eyes, and with one finger wrapped around Damian's for support, he told his family about how the Dr's. Fenton had cut him open and poked around in the name of science.

"So… you're not a meta?" Duke asked in the silence that followed Danny's confessions. He had to admit he was grateful his brother wasn't dwelling on his past. Damian had been right, they were taking it well. Boy, did he let it show on his face in a typical, 12 year old, "I told you so," fashion.

"I don't have a metagene and I'm technically half-dead, half-alive. Damian used the term Pseudo-Meta. I kinda like it."

"So let me get this straight," Jason began. "Since dying, you won the Ghost King's crown by right of conquest, defeated several godlike entities, who are now your friends, and your mentor is the literal God of time?"

"Pretty much."

"Damn," he whistled. "I don't think I died right the first time. I want a do-over."

Danny snorted in laughter and Damian tutted at him while the others elbowed him in ribs.

"Does that make you a god?" Dick teased.

"I don't think so, but every time I ask Clockwork he gets all cryptic, so maybe?"

Bruce was getting a headache.

~~•○•~~

"Alright, it's time to solve some real mysteries now," Tim said with a gleam in his eyes. They'd migrated up to the kitchen for post patrol cookies. Alfred had been pleasantly surprised when Bruce had explained that, thanks to Danny, everyone had made it home relatively unscathed. And considering they'd had a run-in with Joker, that was worthy of cookies in his opinion.

"Danny, how in the world did you get Damian to stop trying to stab you?"

"Actually, yeah! You guys have gotten really close. What's the secret?" Dick asked with a raised eyebrow. Damian rolled his eyes and answered for Danny.

"I challenged him in combat and Daniel accepted. It's not my fault none of you were intelligent enough to realize it was a bonding tactic." Bruce tried to hide his laughter in his mug while the others blatantly gawked at him.

"No way."

"I have a picture of the first time he managed to graze me in a sparring session! You guys wanna see?" Everyone swarmed him to see the photo. Dick cooed and tried to pinch Damian's cheek, but was met with snapping teeth. Steph, with eyes sparkling, just muttered, "cute," so as not to stir the youngest's ire. Danny ended up promising to send the picture into the group chat later.

"By the way, you never did say what Joker's punishment was," Jason mentioned casually. Danny smiled cruelly, his frosty blue eyes glowing.

"His greatest fear, of course! A prolonged stay in a Gotham that has not nor will ever know the Joker. I swear, I've never met a clown that wasn't a total narcissist." Danny popped the last bite of a cookie into his mouth and dusted the crumbs off on his pants. "No one is allowed to hurt my brothers. Ever."

~~•○•~~

Damian was just about to climb into bed when he heard a knock at his door. He looked up just in time to see Danny phase through it into his room.

"Why even bother knocking?"

"Because it's polite!" Damian rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to say thank you for earlier." He took a seat at the end of the bed and Damian sat next to him, as was tradition for their late night chats.

"I'm the one who should be thanking you," Damian countered. "You weren't ready to tell everyone, and yet you came when I called."

"Of course I did. You're my little brother. And I'd do it for any of you." Danny nudged him with his shoulder, and it earned him a tiny, barely there smile.

"Thank you Danny."

"Using a nickname, huh? Don't let Dick hear that, he'll think you're playing favorites."

"Of course not. I have a reputation to uphold after all. Besides, Richard already thinks you're my favorite. It's giving him a complex."

"Well, aren't I?"

"Tt, don't push your luck."

There was a beat of silence before they erupted into laughter. Danny was so proud that he could make Damian laugh, even if it was more reserved than the guffaws he and their brothers had when they found something particularly funny. He couldn't wait to brag to Jazz about it once it was safe to contact her. If it was safe to contact her.

"I'll see you in the morning," Danny said, leaning lightly against his brother's shoulder in lieu of a hug. He floated over to the door. "Goodnight, Dami."

"Sleep well, Danny."

~~•○•~~

Vlad Masters gnashed his teeth while he stared at the computer screen in his office. First Daniel up and disappeared without so much as a word, and now he was all over the news and tabloids as the newly adopted "Daniel Fenton-Wayne." He was annoyed. He was furious! He was… confused. What had that fool Jack done to get Daniel taken away? Why hadn't Maddie stopped it? How did Daniel end up getting legally adopted by Bruce Wayne of all people? The boy should have come right to him if something was wrong. He deserved it! The boy was his or he was no one's!

The man swatted the mug off his desk. It shattered against the wall.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 11

Time for another WIP Wednesday! I'm not sure if I'll have anything for next week. I'm working on a one shot right now as I can and wrapping up stuff for my final week of work which is taking a ton of time. Though I did get on a roll today and wrote a bit more than I'm posting, so maybe I'll have something.

Story Summary: Danny was invited to dinner at Wayne Manor to meet Jazz's boyfriend and his family for the first time. He worked hard to make sure no ghost business would interrupt the evening. But when he arrived, all he could focus on was the ghost of the dead Robin that seemed to haunt Jason. Looks like he was breaking his promise.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

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“Hn. What is the range on these devices?” asked Bruce.

Danny shrugged. “My stuff? From anywhere. I track through the Infinite Realms, not by Earth. GIW? Jason-Robin, they’ll be able to detect something from probably ten miles out of city limits, but they’d need to be within half a mile to get an accurate location. The Fentons? Mile or so. They get an exact location or nothing.”

Tim asked, “Is it likely the Fenton’s will come to Gotham?”

“Not sure,” admitted Danny. “But they sell commercially, so other ghost hunters might have their equipment. Jazz, pass the Fenton Finder?”

Damian couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice when he finally saw the blocky silver device with a circular, green screen on it and bits sticking up out of the front. “Why is there a light bulb attached to it?”

Even Robin looked at the device with a raised eyebrow and sent out a silent this real? his way.

“It flashes when a ghost is nearby,” Danny replied to both of them.

Tim hummed in interest. “Are the visible antennae necessary? Why are there multiple?”

“Most of my parents designs were cobbled together with whatever they could cannibalize from other household electronics and junk yards. Hence the less stream-lined appearance compared to the Guys in White’s stuff.”

He flicked the switch to turn it on and instantly the light bulb was flashing red, the radar screen turned on showing several dots in close vicinity to the center, and a robotic voice said, “You are surrounded by multiple ghosts. You’d have to be an idiot to not notice the ghosts all around you.”

Danny let it read out it’s warning again before flicking it back off. He had to laugh at the looks of complete bafflement on basically everyone’s faces. Even Bruce raised an eyebrow at it.

“Yeah, that’s my parents for you. FentonWorks designs are at least easy to spot. Not the the Guys in White’s stuff is much better. That horrible white on everything…” Danny shuddered. “I hate white.”

Bruce hummed. “Will you be able to provide us with some of these devices so we can study them on our own?”

Danny bit at his lower lip. “Probably. But it’ll have to wait until after I get you the information on how to safely work with ectoplasm. If Tim and Barbara are your big tech people, they’re not liminal at all and will have to be careful when handling it.”

Tim added, “We do have extensive experience working with toxic chemicals. Many of the Gotham rogues use chemical warfare.”

“Right. Yeah, I’ll have Tucker send you the safety sheets on it and we’ll see what devices I’ve got or can make duplicates of to get to you. I’ll be sure you get all three styles of hand-held trackers and their schematics. Maybe I’ll even be able to get you the schematics for a larger tracking system like what my parents have set up in Amity.”

Barbara nodded. “That would be great. What sort of set up do your parents have in your home town?”

“So they’ve set up sensors all over the city that detect ectoplasmic activity. The signal gets sent back to the computer in the ops center they built on top of their house, and they can pin the exact location of any ghost to within a foot or two anywhere within, like, five miles of the city limits. That data is also shared with the computer in their GAV.”

Jason bumped Jazz’s shoulder with his. “I know I’m gonna regret this, but what’s the ‘GAV’?”

Jazz sighed and answered. “It stands for Ghost Assault Vehicle. It’s a modified RV that’s basically a tank. Jack and Maddie simply have to press a button and a dozen ghost weapons will protrude from the vehicle and aim for any nearby ghost. And that’s without Maddie shoving her entire upper body out the window while holding a bazooka.”

“Yep. I regret asking. How badly am I gonna want to murder your parents by the time I’m done learning about them?”

“They are not my parents.” Jazz’s voice was hard.

At the same time, Danny answered, “Depends. How do you feel about genocidal mad scientists?”

Jason just let his head bang on the table. Robin flew over to him and patted him on the back. Jason seemed to subconsciously lean into the touch.

“Now,” said Danny. “I promised I’d show the rest of you these scanners up close.”

“That would be appreciated,” said Bruce. “We also have a few more questions about you and your parents.”

“And I need you to tell me more about these Lazarus pits because those sound like they’re a disaster.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “And I believe that will have to be the end of this meeting tonight. It is getting late and at least some of you will insist on going on patrol tonight still.”

A few people grumbled at Alfred’s words, but no one argued.

Danny made his way to the other side of the table and went over how to use the devices again. He pretended not to notice the way Jazz flinched when he turned on the Fenton Finder and it called out its warning again.

Jason did put an arm around her in response, though, so he figured she’d be all right.

“So that’s that,” he said once he turned off the last device. “I won’t be showing you any weapons until after we get you up to date on ghost biology and culture. If you run into issues in the meantime, you can call Jazz or me and we’ll take care of it.”

Bruce nodded. “We’ll be following up with our own experts as well.”

“Of course,” agreed Danny. “I figured. Now, you had some more questions?”

Tim asked, “You mentioned to me and Alfred that a member of Justice League Dark stopped by Amity. Can you tell us more about that?”

“I mean, there’s not much to tell,” said Danny. “It was John Constantine. And at the time I had no idea how famous he was. Would’ve asked for an autograph if I had, but oh well. This was shortly after I defeated Pariah Dark, the previous Ghost King. He came in, asked if I needed help. I told him I got it covered, he gave me a phone number, and that was that.”

Bruce hummed. “Yes, that sounds like Constantine. We will speak to him.”

“Why?” asked Danny. “It was exactly what I wanted. A check in to confirm I was okay and someone to reach out to on Earth if I got in over my head. It’s just by that time I started getting allies in the Realms. The big concern Earth-side was ghost hunters. And the worst of them were government sanctioned so I wasn’t sure if I should reach out to the Justice League since you guys also work with the US government.”

Jason let out a noise that Danny could only think of as a growl. “He should have spent enough time there to answer questions like that.”

Danny snorted. “Less than a week before he arrived, our entire town was removed from Earth and brought into the Infinite Realms for multiple days. Something would’ve been very wrong with him if he’d stuck around longer than it took to confirm it wasn’t likely to happen again.”

“I’m sorry,” asked Steph, “what is that about your entire town being transported off earth?”

“Don’t you know? My friends and I figured that’s why you sent Constantine to us.”

Barbara shook her head as she clicked around her computer. “There’s nothing in the Justice League files about it.”

“Huh. Well that’s how I became the Ghost King. The previous king was released by an idiot and lured to Amity. Ended up bringing the entire town into the Realms. His goal was to take over the town then the rest of earth. I defeated him in single combat while some other ghosts helped hold back his armies. No one bothered to tell me until later that that meant won his titles as well.”

Dick was frowning at him. “Why did you have to be the one to defeat him?”

Danny just blinked at him in confusion. “Who else was there? My accident is what activated the portal and started letting ghosts through. By making me half ghost, I had the powers necessary to contain the ones who caused problems. My parents were incompetent at best. So I just did what had to be done. Besides, if I hadn’t been an idiot, the portal never would’ve turned on in the first place. So it was my responsibility to fix it.”

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Next

And no one at the table liked that answer! The end of the dinner is finally in sight! I know I'm overlooking characters. I'll do some editing to make sure everyone gets a say before I eventually get around to posting this to AO3. (It's a good part of the reason I haven't started cross posting, tbh. That and I like to have stories fully finished before I start posting.)

Hope you all enjoy.

Tag List Part 1:

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm, @justreadingthefanfics, @happybear135, @kisatamao, @spoopyspoony, @adorablechaos, @sara0055, @screamingtofillthevoid

[hallowsden]

DC x DP Idea Thing #5

Danny meets Joker Jr (Tim)

So, was bored and brain thought "Hm... Danny knows what it's like to under the control of clown." Then, it remembered "Who else knew what it's like to be under the control of a Clown? Oh, right, T I M"

Sure, by all mean technically, both were 2 different circumstances, Tim having been tortured and brainwashed while Danny was put under mind control via a supernatural item. But still, nevertheless, this was enough to get the ball rolling.

Like, Imagine Danny, having just escaped from the GIW's torture and experiments, ending up fleeing to Gotham (Cause no body at the GIW wants to deal with the Bat or his rogues or just the general population there- even if they were (unfortunately) a government branch- which, if anything, would likely anger the rogues and thugs more and even half the civilian Gothamites-)

He wanders around Gotham, mainly vibing and chilling as he recovers, trying to find a place he calls his new haunt/home when he entered a seemingly abandoned warehouse.

Danny didn't know what to expect entering the abandoned warehouse, but it certainly wasn't a guy his age, bound to a metal table, trembling. Upon a closer look, the guy was wearing a black, red, and yellow armored costume of some sort, and on his face was a prominent Glasgow grin.

Seeing the electrical cords hooked up to the table the guy was trapped in, Danny flew closer, wanting to help him immediately.

The guy flinched harshly in his restraints upon noticing him. Danny stopped midair, as he raised one hand slowly.

It would take a bit for the guy to calm down, but even then, he'd be wary of Danny up until he freed him from the restraints.

"Hey- I'm not here to hurt you," Danny said gently, feeling the pain the guy held through his core.

At this point, Tim hasn't completely broken under Joker's torture but already, but he's already semi-brainwashed to be Joker Jr, er- well, to think of himself as Joker Jr instead of Tim Drake or Red Robin. Joker and Harley haven't programmed his personality into him yet. They mainly tortured Tim to be obedient, submissive, and susceptible to their manipulations and torture so it is easier to mold him into their perfect son.

JJ, as he twitchingly introduces himself to Danny, is gonna also have amnesia. He doesn't remember fully of his life as Tim or Red Robin, at least for the time bein. It was supposed to be his brain's way as a coping mechanism to forget the torture, but nope, Joker made sure he'd never forget it. Plus, being electrocuted can cause amnesia so... Yeah.

Danny's gonna make sure JJ's away from the warehouse and is gonna protect him. He may not know the full extent of the circumstances as to why JJ was there but he can guess, and it ain't good. Once he learns of the whole situation, though? Yeah, Joker's gonna be dragged to the Infinity Realms by him along with Harley, though, Harley may be released due to her own circumstances as well... She just needs to serve her time since she still did a lot of crimes anyways...

While Danny's taking care of JJ (even if it also meant stealing amongst a few other crimes-), Batfam is still trying to find their missing member.

Idk if this makes sense anymore. I just thought it be neat of Danny meets Joker Jr Tim, save him, and help him recover while Batfam are out, running around, like headless chickens. Would this lead to shipping? Maybe, who knows? I think JJ Tim and Danny would prove to be better as brothers here.

[elizabethemerald]

Son of the Red Hood: Part 5

Master Post

Jazz pried her unwilling eyes open. Her face was gritty and sore from crying herself to sleep after the call from the Foleys. She groggily looked around to see that she had passed out right there on the floor where she had collapsed. She tried to force herself to rise, to at least get up off the floor. She had so much to do. 

But her brother was dead. 

She needed to call Aunt Alicia. The police probably wouldn’t be able to get a hold of her for weeks if she left it to them. She needed to email her professors and her advisor let them know she wouldn’t be in class for a while. Would she even be back in time for exams? 

Her brother was dead. 

Maybe she should just drop out. Danny had been the whole reason she was trying to race through her degree. She wanted to be able to provide for him just in case their parents couldn’t or wouldn’t any more. She was even paying through the nose for an apartment by herself so Danny could live on her couch if he needed to. 

But her brother was dead. 

He had insisted, again and again, that he would be safe there. He only had a few more months until his eighteenth birthday and he was crowned the High King of Ghosts. Then he would move full time into Phantom’s Keep in the Infinite Realms. She had been counting down the days, just waiting until he was safe. After the last time their parents had caught him as Phantom and started to cut him open, Jazz had been terrified that it would happen again. Last time it had only been luck that she had managed to come home for the weekend and rescue him. 

But her brother was dead. 

She honestly wasn’t surprised her parents were dead. In fact she would bet the entirety of her afterlife on the explosion being their fault. She had already gone through the process of mourning her parents for their stupid mistakes when she was eight and Jack blew up the first version of the GAV. Her parents had both been in the hospital for three weeks. They remembered to ask about their children at the end of the second week. Up to that point she had been taking care of Danny and herself as well as she was able and had thought they were dead. 

Now her brother was dead. 

She felt for the connection she’d had to him ever since his accident. Deep down in her proto-core from her heavy exposure to ectoplasm from her parents’ experiments. She had always been able to feel where Danny was even if he was invisible. If he was in the Ghost Zone she would still feel him, it would just feel fluttery, but their bond was strong enough to cross the veil. She searched for that connection in the direction of Amity Park and felt…

Because her brother was dead? 

She could still feel a connection. Could it be to Ellie? No, she was never as close with Danny’s clone as he was despite her best wishes to the contrary. Where was it? It wasn’t in the direction of Amity, then where? 

Her brother was… her brother was… alive? 

As soon as that thought had processed she sat up and focused. The connection to Danny still existed. It didn’t feel like he was in the Zone, so he must have managed to escape! He could be injured and scared somewhere! She was immediately up on her feet. She snatched her half charged phone and her emergency bag and was out the door. 

Her brother was alive. 

Jazz raced to her car, throwing her bag into the back seat. She didn’t know if she had enough gas to get to wherever Danny was, but she would keep going as long as she had to find her brother. She peeled out of her apartment’s parking lot and started driving south down the East Coast. 

Danny was alive.  

Hold on Danny. Your sister’s coming. 

.

Diana hated Gotham. It represented everything she had always been told of the corruption of the world of men. The rampant crime and wealth inequality made the search for the child king hidden in the city even harder. 

She couldn’t search the city as Wonder Woman. Too many people would be calling to her and she wouldn’t know which one to follow. Plus the Rogues in the city would be a problem. Bruce’s rogues were always a specific shade of awful to deal with any time they left the city and she didn’t want to draw Bruce’s ire by fighting them. Also she was certain some of her own trouble makers would target her and the city if they knew she was there. 

Diana also couldn’t dress down like she usually would while in DC. She knew she looked like a younger, affluent, and beautiful woman. Every mugger, trafficker, and cat-caller in the city would be harassing her every step of the way. In any other city the fact that she also looked like she bench pressed cars for fun would have given her a level of immunity to the dregs of man’s world, but in the most crime ridden city in the world people were either desperate, or stupid enough to push their luck. Bruce would certainly kick her out of his city if she broke the fingers of every man who cat-called her. 

Instead she asked Alfred for some of Bruce’s most tattered and oil stained clothing before she left the manor. She ended up in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that Bruce must have used to change the oil on the Batmobile. Alfred was almost offended that she would go out in something so filthy, but it worked to keep people’s attention off her. Though Bruce’s hoodie was so short on her it was almost a crop top. 

With a proper disguise she walked the streets of Gotham. She saw the homeless on the streets and the muggers in the alleyways. It pulled at her heart not being able to help. Of course she stopped any crimes she saw, then disappeared quickly, but it was all so overwhelming. 

The fact that Bruce could face this every single night and not fall into despair showed just how strong he was. And that pulled at her heart even more. However she knew he would always be more dedicated to his city and his mission than any partner. That was the biggest reason she and Bruce hadn’t become an “item” as Shayera would say. 

Diana sighed in frustration. She had spent the past few days wandering through the city, street by street, and she had yet to find anything, nor had she heard anyone call her. She was sure she had understood Lord Clockwork’s words correctly, and expecting immediate results may have been foolish, but it was still frustrating. Somewhere in this twisted and dark city was her soon-to-be protege and she needed to find them. 

A scream of fear echoed through the city streets from around the corner. She jogged forward to help. She would probably head back to the manor after this, return Bruce’s clothes. Diana allowed herself a small smile, if she hurried back she would arrive before Bruce donned his costume and left to begin his own patrol. He would probably spit out his coffee at the sight of her wearing his clothes, especially with how short his hoodie is on her. 

.

Danny can float through walls. 

Jason was not freaking out, thank you very much, even though it would have been perfectly reasonable to freak out a little at his kid being able to pass through walls as if they weren’t even there. How was he supposed to ground his kid when he grew up if doors and walls were just a suggestion? Was this normal for kids exposed to the Lazarus pits? Would Jason fall through the floor one of these days and end up in the center of the Earth? What about Cass and Damian? Oh gods, he had to call them to make sure they weren’t stuck in the core of the Earth. Bruce would have to update the floor plan of the cave or else they would all fall through and…

Jason was definitely not freaking out. 

When Danny started floating and flying around the apartment, Jason could accept that. Danny seemed perfectly happy bobbing along as he ate or playing with his toys on the ceiling. Hell, more than half the JL could fly in some manner so it was easy for Jason to make some rules for Danny of when it was safe to fly and when it wasn't. But now Danny could float through walls. And Jason did not know what to do. 

He took a deep breath and took a moment to center himself. Danny was currently on the ceiling drawing a picture. He was even keeping it mostly on the paper. He wasn’t sure how he would ever explain the crayon lines on the ceiling so he was thankful he owned the building he lived in. Though he had been considering more and more moving so Danny would have more room to play and use his powers. 

“Hey, Danny? Would you mind coming down here so we can talk?” Jason called up to his boy. Danny turned to look up (down? Why does his kid have to sit on the ceiling of all places?) at him with a smile. 

“Just a minute Jay! I’m almost done!” Danny said happily. 

Jason nodded and settled on his couch. Danny had, thankfully, been pretty good so far about doing what he was told, as long Jason took the time to explain why he wanted Danny to do the things. And when he got upset, he was at least easily bribable with cookies. Now maybe some parenting books would say not to bribe his child, but those books weren’t written for parents with super powered kids. 

After almost exactly a minute, Danny floated down with his picture in his hand. Jason was struck once again by just how graceful this kid was. Once he was a little older Jason was going to have to take him to either Uncle Dickabeth for gymnastics lessons or Aunt Cass for ballet lessons. Probably Cass cause she wasn’t a no-good cop. Fuck cops. 

“What did you want to talk about, Jay?” Danny said with his big ol’ cute eyes. Jason felt the fire inside him burn even brighter at how god-damned cute he was. 

“Y-yeah.” Jason would deny that his voice cracked until his dying day. “We’re going to work together to make some rules for your powers, ok?”

Danny nodded and settled comfortably on the couch. 

“Ok, first of all. Do your powers hurt you?” Jason asked. 

His kid took a moment to think about it before he shook his head. 

“Good, good. If your powers ever do hurt you, I want you to tell me ok?” Jason waited for another happy nod before he continued. “Does it hurt to not use your powers?” 

Danny tilted his head to the side and Jason wished he had his phone in hand so he could take a picture. 

“It doesn’t hurt… but… sometimes it feels itchy.” 

“Itchy?” 

“Yeah, like when you got a really big burp inside you and you can’t let it out because you’re eating at a really fancy place. I don’t like that feeling.” Danny rubbed his chest, not quite over his heart, but more centered. 

“Thanks for telling me, bud. If you ever get that feeling I want you to tell me. And you can use your powers as much as you like here in the apartment. However when you are going through walls I want you to stay in our apartment. I don’t want you to scare the neighbors, ok?” 

Danny laughed like a chiming bell, rolling back onto his back before floating up above the couch a little. 

“I don’t wanna scare people either! I always hated it when people were afraid of me!” 

Jason didn’t know quite what to make of that incredibly worrying statement, so played it off with a joke. 

“Yeah, the neighbors aren’t as brave as your old man!” 

“Jay! You’re not old! Unca Dick is way older than you!” 

Jason threw back his head and laughed before grabbing Danny and tickling him. The two of them laughed together for several minutes before Jason remembered the drawing Danny had been working on. 

“By the way, what were you drawing kiddo?” 

Danny sat up excitedly and showed off his drawing. Jason could recognize himself with his black and white hair with his Red Hood helmet under his arm, and Danny with black hair. There were two extra people in the picture, one looked like a second version of Danny, except with longer hair this time, and one with long red hair who was even taller than Jason in the drawing. 

“See this is my family.” Danny said, pointing at the picture. “This is Dani, and this is Jazz, and this is if you were my dad!” 

Jason had to stop himself from crying as tears burned in his eyes. Danny drew him as his dad. Gods it was going to kill him if they found out Danny had a loving family out there somewhere. Plus the drawing revealed that the mysterious Jazz, Danny’s missing sister, was a red-head. That should help narrow down the nationwide search Tim was engaged in to try and find her. Though why were there two Dannys in the picture? Maybe his son was transgender? Before Jason could ask any questions Danny continued, pulling a second sheet out from behind the first. 

“And this one is all my aunts and uncles! Here’s Unca Dick, and Aunt Cass and Aunt Steph and Aunt Bab.” The next picture had several stick figures with different hair, including one with red hair in a chair. Danny had drawn Steph’s hair really long and Dick really short, the shortest in the picture other than Barbie who was sitting.

“Do you mind if I take a picture to send to your aunts and uncles? I’m sure they would love to see your art, then we can hang the pictures on the fridge.”

Danny proudly displayed his drawings and Jason took pictures. He took a few close ups to show off the art and a few further back to show off his smiling kid with his big ol’ shining green eyes. Once the pictures were taken he allowed Danny to float back up to the ceiling to continue drawing. He texted the group chat with the others. 

“Updates on Danny. Good news: he drew me as his dad in a picture. Neutral news: we now know Jazz is a red-head and apparently taller than me. Bad news: He either has no memory of his parents or at least no positive ones.” 

He sent the first pic, then after the others were done cooing over it sent the other. 

“Also according to Danny, Dickwing Duck is both the shortest of us and really old.” 

He ignored the following texts from Dick crying about how his nephew didn’t respect him.

[halfghostwriter]

Wraith Radio Pt. 2

Part 1

“You’re listening to Wraith Radio, your number one link to the living realm. I’m your host, the wandering ghost, Ellie Phantom. It’s day two of my adventure in Gotham City, and I gotta say, today was… wild. Bit of context for those who missed the start of yesterday’s show, long story short, I publicly told the Red Hood that I would wait for him at this place called Park Row so I could take him to a doctor in the ghost zone because his body is bad.

After I ended the show, I got this call from my cousin, Danny. He and his friends back in Amity had been listening, and they think that, because I never showed off any of my powers or anything, and cause I look like any other human, he might not have actually believed I was a ghost. Which, fair, I guess.

So now I’m thinking, ‘well, no big deal, I can just show him my ghost form.’ Buuuuut then I remember the stupid amount of curses and stuff all around this city, and as part of the ghost population who technically never experienced death— no, that time I melted does not count— I’d like to prolong that experience for as long as possible if you don’t mind. Where was I? Oh right, so now I’m thinking, ‘well, no problem, I can just open up a portal, bring him to the zone, and transform there.’ Quick, simple, no problem.

So we come to today. I’m at the meeting spot, it’s five minutes to the meeting time, and I’m sitting on the edge of this rooftop, keeping an eye out for the arrival of the Red Hood.

And then a building blows up.

Right across the street, the top floor of this sketchy run down place I had been staring at, just. Boom! And then I hear all these gunshots, and screaming, and I look down at my watch, and I have about four minutes before noon, so I turn invisible, float over, and poke my head through the wall. Right there, center of the room, I see Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood fighting this… I dunno, skinny twink with like a burlap sack over his head? Look, it took me a week to memorize the Gotham vigilante’s names and costumes alone, I wasn’t going out of my way to look up their entire rogues gallery. But anyway, they’re fighting this guy and a bunch of people who I assume are working for this guy, and I see some people tied up in the corner screaming their heads off for no clear reason. I mean, yes, I know it’s scary being tied up by an evil scarecrow of a man, but when I say screaming, I don’t mean ‘please, save me, I’m in distress’ screaming, I mean ‘the soulshredder just sliced through me and now I’m seeing my worst fears manifested in front of my eyes’ screaming.

So I get a little closer, I land on the floor, and just, to go off on a bit of a tangent for a second, the Gotham vigilantes are just. So much taller than me. I felt so incredibly tiny being in the same room as them. Like, yeah, I know I’m short, but I had hoped that I would at least be the same height as Robin, but no. I swear, every time I stand next to someone who’s supposed to be close to my ‘physical’ age, I become more and more convinced that the billionaire who made me had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He brought me to life and was like ‘you’re a twelve year old!’ and I was like ‘you’re right!’ because I had no frame of reference because I was born that morning. Anyway, so I get closer to the screeching humans being held against their will, and I feel this scratchy, almost burning feeling in the back of my throat. I try to brush it off, but then I look down, and I see my body fucking melting.

Now this isn’t be my first time melting, so my first thought isn’t ‘oh god I’m gonna go from half to full ghost,’ or even ‘ugh this shit again,’ but rather ‘why the fuck doesn’t this hurt?’ Because I know exactly what melting is supposed to feel like, and it isn’t a feeling you can just ignore. Like, I can’t really describe it to someone who’s never had every muscle in their body suddenly coalesce into one, with every attached nerve ending screaming louder than a heavy metal band, but trust me when I say that the “pain” I was feeling was barely anything compared to actually melting, like it felt more like my skin was itchy than anything. So, I try poking one of the places where my body is melting— don’t ask me why, I don’t really know why I did it— and instead of feeling ectoplasm drip over my hands, I just feel… my arm. And I realize, ‘oh, not only is this just an illusion, it’s a shitty one.’ Or, y’know, at the very least one that doesn’t work too well on a halfa.

So I shake that off, cause yeah, I don’t like seeing myself melt again, but as long as it’s not actually happening again, I’m good. Plus, if it does start again, I do still have my extra ecto dejectos in my bag, and yes, Danny, I will call you if it actually happens, sorry if I almost gave you a heart attack a few minutes ago. Anyway, I turn back to all the tied up screaming people, and I notice these, like, fog-machine-looking-thing next to all of them, and I get closer to one, and the scratchy feeling at the back of my throat gets worse, so now I’m thinking ‘oh, this must be what’s causing everyone to see things.’ So I turn my arm intangible, stick it into this machine, and I pull out this bottle of just… the worst smelling chemicals I’ve ever been near, which is saying a lot for someone born and raised in a basement lab. But, it stops the fog machine, so I plug it with some stuff from my bag, and pocket it so I can’t smell it anymore. I keep doing this to each of the nearby machines, and eventually the front pocket of my bag is just completely stuffed with gross chemicals.

So that’s over with, and I look over to see if the fight’s done, but no, they’re all still going at it, which means I still can’t talk to Red Hood and get him to the Zone, so I figure I have some time to kill. And I remember that there’s, like, ten or so people tied up against their will, so I start freeing all of them. Obviously, the ropes themselves are really easy, all I really need to do is phase them off. The people, on the other hand, are crazy hard to get to actually do anything other than scream. Like, I try pushing people towards the exit, I try dragging them across the floor, anything to get them to leave the building which is— in case you forgot— on fire. I mean it’s just the top floor, but I’ve heard from Ember that a fire anywhere in the house could be the cause of a human’s death, especially if no one’s watching it, and I doubt that anyone is actually watching that fire.

So now I’m kinda panicking, cause I was hoping the fight would be over by now and all these people would have been brought outside, but not only is the fight not over, I look over and see the bad guy throw these cans over at the people, and I realize that they’re giving off the exact same poison-fog as the machines from earlier. And I’m just. So pissed off. Like, I just took care of that!! For all I knew, that illusion stuff could’ve worn off in a few minutes, and I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping all these people alive!!

Side note— Danny. I get it now. I get the whole ‘desperate need to protect any and all humans’ feeling you were talking about.

They are just… so easy to put into danger.

Holy shit.

Anyway, I’m feeling that whole ‘selfless anger on behalf of strangers’ thing for the first time, and I think it turns my brain off, cause I just pick up the cans and throw them at the bad guys head while yelling ‘FUCK YOU, DIPSHIT!’

And my invisibility drops.

So.

Not my best decision.

But not my worst, because my aim was perfect.

I’m pretty sure I knocked him unconscious, but I’ll be honest I wasn’t really paying attention to that guy anymore because I had just revealed one of my abilities— not to mention I think my eyes were glowing— in front of the fucking Batman. Now, I don’t know if the rumors about him hating metas are true, but I do know that most humans fucking hate ghosts, that I definitely don’t know what he thinks I am, and that I’m not risking my ass to find out. So, invisibility goes back up, and I start to book it before I remember that the whole fucking reason I showed up was to help out Red Hood. So I take a flyer, write “sorry, try again tomorrow?” on the back, and then I get the fuck out.

I wind up flying so fast back to this little hideout I’m staying at that I guess I wound up jostling some things in my bag? Yeah, by the time I get back, I feel this… leaking through my bag. And I take it off, so I can check out the damage, and uh…

Ok, so remember how I mentioned those ecto dejectos I keep on me? Well, I tend to keep them in the front pocket. And the scary-illusion-liquid-stuff was also put in the front pocket. And one of the bottles and an ecto-dejecto hit each other just a bit too hard. And apparently. When these two things are combined. You get… a blob ghost. Who only knows how to melt.

I’ve named him Goop, and he’s the most pathetic creature I’ve seen in my life. He just melts until all of his body is liquid, then it all just blorps back together. He’s solid for like a second, then he starts to melt again. Also he keeps trying to drink the scary-illusion-liquid. I’ve been holding him in my lap this entire time, and while he’s not hard to stop, I do still need to sleep, so if anyone has any advice on how to handle a mutant blob ghost, I’m all ears. Also, if theres any specific way to get rid of mysterious chemicals that honestly shouldn’t exist, please tell me, otherwise I’m just gonna find a sink and dump it.

Anyway, that’s enough about my day, onto things I’ve heard about the city…”

————————

The batfam stared silently at the glowing radio that Jason had brought.

And an unspoken agreement was reached.

Meta, ghost, whatever— this was a child with absolutely no adult supervision, severe trauma, an unknown set of powers, and a ridiculous amount of fear toxin. Not to mention something that she described to be a “mutant blob ghost.”

It was time to do a bit of research into the kid.

Or, it would, were it not for the fact that “Wraith Radio” didn’t seem to exist online, nor did “Ellie Phantom.” It was also likely she used a fake name for her show, since there didn’t seem to be any records of an “Ellie Phantom” anywhere.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to deter them. After all, she herself had mentioned her family.

And so, they began looking into Amity and her cousin, Danny.

[spookyson]

Hiiiiiii wrote something on my ao3 and decided to post it here!

Jason’s legs are only steady because of experience, otherwise, he had no doubt he would be on the floor and shaking.

“You disregarded my orders, jumped in without thinking, and nearly compromised the entire mission!” yells Bruce. “Exactly what was going through your head?”

Jason fights to keep from fidgeting and focuses on one of the ears of the Bat-cowl. “I saw an opening and I went for it.”

“You entered the fray and almost got yourself killed,” snarls Bruce. Jason’s never been scared of Bruce. Not after those first few months where he was convinced Bruce was going to kill him or do worse. He wouldn’t say he’s scared of him now either, but the fine trembles in his hands indicate otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” he says because what else is there to say? It had been a good night. Batman and Robin were on a mission, a drug bust. They had studied the case for weeks and trained and practiced until both of them knew exactly what to do. It should have gone perfectly. It did not. In between the fight, a fight that Batman had explicitly ordered him to stay out of, Jason had spotted the opportunity to knock out one of the leaders of the whole operation. If he could just get to him then they could learn where the other warehouses were.

Jason has to admit it did not go that way. He’s nursing bruised ribs, black eyes, and a bullet graze on the side of his stomach. Worst of all, he’s getting yelled at by Bruce. Bruce who never so much as raised his voice at Jason. Who always always preferred to talk things out. The guy who had to get Alfred to give Dick and Jason punishments because he couldn’t bear to even ground them for a week.

That Bruce, the gentle one, was furious at Jason. “Jason, I don’t know how we’re supposed to work if you can’t follow basic instructions.”

“Bruce, I’m sorry!” blurts Jason. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m benching you,” says Bruce. Like he didn’t hear Jason at all. “For a month.”

“What?” exclaims Jason. The shock momentarily overrides Jason’s fear response. “A month? Bruce, I can’t be out for a month. Gotham needs me. You need me.”

Bruce aims a disdainful glare at him. “I don’t need you like this,” he informs him coolly.

—

I don’t need you like this. I don’t need you… I don’t need you.

Jason gulps back the sobs threatening to escape his mouth. He’s already thrown the dark hood of his jersey over his head to cover up the tears but he knows that wailing in the middle of the night on a Gotham street is the fastest way to get mugged.

He moves quickly, not eager to get caught out by some opportunistic mugger but with no real destination in mind. Jason just can’t stay at the manor. He knows that much. He knows that leaving now will save him the pain of listening to Bruce kick him out and he doesn’t know if he can survive that.

Before, when he was on the streets, he didn’t know what a warm home and a kind family were. His father was in and out of prison and more often than not stuck with his dick in a hooker or he wandered around the city with a gang. His mother spent half her time high on heroin and the other half wishing she was. And all this was before he had to live in the alleys of Gotham City, America’s crime capital. But he had been able to survive because he didn’t think there was anything better. Now though, after having experienced kindness, affection maybe even love, however little, Jason knew he was too weak.

Maybe he should cry. He should scream loud enough for the entire city to hear him. Some rogue could take him out before Bruce’s words did him in.

The chill of the night air penetrates Jason’s hoodie, cutting him to the very bone. He knows it used to feel worse when he was all skin and twiggy limbs, but he can’t ever remember being so cold. Jason rubs his hands up and down his arms, hoping to generate some semblance of warmth. It doesn’t do an awful lot.

He heads further into the city. There’s nothing else he can do. Gotham nightlife is not for tourists, it’s barely for the locals. Jason has to shake off 3 tails in the span of an hour and all because the hoodie he’s wearing is one of the new ones Bruce got for him. It’s expensive and he guesses that people picked up on that. Jason will probably have to rough it up a bit if he wants to keep it. He instantly rebels at the idea of ruining the clothes. If he recalls correctly, Dick gave it to him for his birthday.

Thinking of Dick only makes it worse. Bruce’s eldest son is… perfect. He’s tall, handsome, smart, charming, and everything Jason’s not. Every night when he puts on the suit he can feel the ghost of Dick Grayson haunting him. An invisible presence that judges every move he makes and every word he says. He knows that Bruce can hear it too. It’s obvious on the training mats when he takes too long to pick something or when he doesn’t smile enough or talk enough or-

It would be so much easier if he could hate Dick, but Jason can’t even manage that properly. How can you hate someone when they make the people you love happy? Bruce’s smile is always brighter when Dick visits. Alfred has that pleased look on his face when Dick informs him that he’s sticking around for the weekend. Jason’s not cruel enough to hate that. He just wishes that was the end of it. But it’s not. He doesn’t hate Dick, rather he wishes Dick loved him. Because Dick is amazing, just like everyone says he is. He’s clever and funny, and Jason knows he only throws out stupid puns so people don’t know that. He’s the most talented fighter Jason knows, better than Bruce or he’s going to be and Jason wants to be just like him. Dick is caring. He loves people with such strength that it leaves Jason breathless.

Jason also knows that Dick hates him. For taking Robin when he had no right to and Jason understands. He gets it, okay? Dick doesn’t want some no-name street trash taking the mantle he made legend. Fair enough. But someone has to do it. People will say Gotham needs Batman to fight the darkness but it needs Robin to shine the way just as much.

Jason knew Dick would hate him for that. He wishes not to care so much.

Jason almost trips over his feet, Robin training be damned, when a scream slices through the night. He grabs a wall to brace himself and idly wonders if that was him and then it comes again. Loud and scared. They sound young.

Jason’s moving before he knows it, running at top speed down the street and the source of the noise. He was good at navigating Gotham by streetlight years ago but Bruce’s training has toned the muscles in his arms and legs. He’s only slightly hampered by his injuries from earlier.

Another gut-wrenching scream later Jason finds what he’s looking for down an alley. A group of men are gathered in a half circle around a smaller figure pressed to a wall. He slows his approach, even if he’s raring to rush in and smash their heads in. Bruce’s words from earlier replay in his head. Think, Jason, think. Almost all of them are taller than Jason but he’s willing to bet that he’s the only trained fighter here. Then again, they have the advantage of numbers and he has someone to protect.

He creeps closer, near enough to hear the exchange.

“Stop screaming will ya? Ain’t nobody gonna come running ta help,” drawls a pale guy in a green beanie. There’s a lewd smirk on his face that further unsettles Jason’s stomach. “So why don'tcha be quiet and let us have our fun, eh? Promise it won’t hurt too much.”

Now that he can see more clearly, Jason realizes that the victim is a dark-skinned female, maybe a few years older than Jason, with an expression that alternates between a scowl and a fearful frown. She’s frightened but she doesn’t want them to see that. “Fuck off,” she spits. “Before I bite your dicks off.”

Another man with a red jacket slams his hands onto her mouth. “Shut the fuck up, bitch.”

His friend, Green Beanie, tugs his arm away. “Shit, dude. Don’t fuck her up yet.”

“Let the rest of us have a taste first, eh?” adds another guy.

Jason doesn’t need to hear anymore. He waves a hand and captures the girl’s attention, gesturing for her to run. She locks eyes with him and shakily nods, fear finally breaking through her bravado. Jason keeps the scowl off his face as he silently picks up the lid of a trash can. He creeps a few steps closer and slams the lid down on the biggest guy’s head. It works like a charm, he drops to the ground.

The rest of the gang paused, shock coloring their faces. The girl uses it to escape, dashing out of the alley with impressive speed. That seems to wake them up.

“Oi,” says Green Beanie. “Fuck do ya think you’re doing, runt?”

Jason lunges at the guy nearest to him, a strong punch to the gut and the dude keels over. “Beating the shit out of you.” Yeah, he doesn’t really have Robin’s penchant for puns and jokes.

They collectively realize he’s a threat and finally, run at him.

He ducks low to avoid a punch and kicks his attacker’s legs out from under him. The man goes flying, conveniently tripping up another of his friends. Jason’s already moving to dodge a kick coming for his thing. He swings a punch at Red Jacket, the dude who hit the girl and winces a little when his fist meets solid muscle. It does the trick and Jason’s sure it’ll leave a nasty bruise, but his estimation of the skill level in the alley may be a little off.

He’s got no time to regret it though, because Green Beanie procures a wicked-looking baseball bat and lifts it high to bring down on Jason’s head. He throws himself to the side, rolling to recover and Red Jacket’s in his face with a mean smirk and a meaner-looking fist. Jason. A silver knuckle buster decorates his thick fingers. Jason knows this will hurt.

He cries out, gasping in pain when the metal connects with his ribs. Fuck, the bruises. Jason slumps to the ground, almost blacking out because it hurts too much. He hears a scattering of footsteps around him. Fuck, they have him surrounded.

Jason weakly lifts his head and looks right into at Green Beanie, who tosses the handle of his bat from hand to hand and grins. “Well, well, looks like you’re the fun for tonight, buddy. ‘Specially ‘cause you let the whore run off.”

He only has enough breath to pant, “Fuck you.” before the bat connects with his shoulder.

Jason feels every single blow on his softened skin. It hurts more now as if his grueling training as Robin had somehow softened him. Every brutal kick from someone’s shoes that bore metal studs cut into his skin. The bat came down relentlessly, ruthlessly slamming bone harder into the unforgiving concrete. Jason couldn’t hear a lot more above his own screams and grunts and how it hurt so fucking much.

He tried to reason the hurt away. It would be like this more often from now on since he would need to head back onto the streets prior to finding a job. Jason’s older now, but in no less danger of being jumped. If he couldn’t take a beating now then he wouldn’t survive long in Crime Alley.

It only makes Jason cry. If only Bruce loved him. If only Dick loved him. He wouldn’t be here. He could go further back. He wouldn’t be here if his mother had loved him more than her drugs, he wouldn’t be here if his father had cared for anyone other than himself.

But that’s the kicker, isn’t it? The punchline of the tasteless joke that’s Jason’s life. Nobody loves him. It’s time he accepts that.

Jason almost doesn’t notice when they stop hitting him. Trapped in a haze of hurt and pain as he is, it takes him a while to realize that it’s oddly silent. Jason has just enough common sense to excruciatingly push himself up on his elbows. They’re shaking and he’s not confident in his ability to stand but he knows he has to get up.

Jason looks up to realize the men attacking him and unconscious and on the ground. A lone figure stands between them, cloaked in darkness and for one wild second Jason thinks it’s Batman. Come to save Jason Todd from himself again. The person steps closer and Jason falters when he recognises them.

Nightwing slowly strides closer to Jason, every powerful muscle in his body subtly angled submissively, just enough so that a victim (and Jason registers that he is the victim right now) remains calm enough for him to administer any first aid.

But Dick can’t see him like this. He can’t know just how stupid and pathetic Jason really is. Dick would hate him more than he already does for sullying Robin.

Jason uses his relatively unharmed hand to pull his hood up and scrambles backward, wincing when his skin rubs against the alley concrete. “Don’t-” he cringes at how broken his voice sounds but is grateful for it all the same. It covers up his natural cadence. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Hey, kid, calm down. My name’s Nightwing, I’m with Batman. I’m here to help,” says Dick. “I need to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Jason lies. “Please just. Leave me alone.”

Something sad flashes over Dick’s face but it’s gone as quick as it came. He takes a step back, giving Jason more space, but he knows the older vigilante well enough to know it’s not an out. “Alright. Walk out then.”

Jason glared through the hood. Dick must know he can’t stand. He’s probably waiting for Jason to admit it.

“I’m not showing you where I live,” he says instead. It’s a little hard to talk though. Jason feels tired.

Dick easily grins. “I won’t follow you, scout’s honor. So long as you can get up.”

He knows it’s a lie. He knows that. Jason still tries to stand. He grabs the wall with one hand and heaves himself upward, pointedly ignoring the potent ache in his gut. Fuck, what if his ribs are broken? He takes a deep breath and almost kneels over. It hurts so much. He needs- He needs to go to the Cave. But he can’t, so he’ll have to make the trek to Leslie’s clinic. She could recognize him though…

Jason’s not surprised when he trips and hits the ground. His head slams into the concrete, along with his tender abdomen and he can’t hold anything back as he screams.

Dick’s on him in seconds, his gentle hands quickly lifting him off the ground and flitting up and down Jason’s body to catalogue all the injuries he has. It’s a lot, Jason would know. Dick’s hands reach his hood, probably to check his head and Jason cannot stop him. The last thing he sees, just before he blacks out, is Dick’s gaping mouth.

“Jason?”

“Jason!”

Jason jerks awake only to be pushed back into a soft surface. There’s a face floating above his face but everything’s so blurry.

“Jason? Jay, how are you feeling?” Their voice sounds as though Jason is underwater. “Hey, Little Wing. C’mon, tell me how you’re doing.”

Dick? But that’s impossible, Dick’s not nice to him. Jason decides it’s a dream and it can’t hurt to talk to the Dick-whose-not-real. “I’m okay. What about you?”

Nightwing laughs, the sound accompanied by strong fingers threading through Jason’s hair. “I’m okay, but you took quite a few hits, huh? Wanna tell me what you were doing out there?”

“I was going back,” mumbles Jason, suddenly saddened.

“Back where?”

“Back to the Alley.”

The hand in his hair stills for a fraction of a second before Dick continues his grooming. “And why were you going to Park Row?”

Jason doesn’t want to talk about it yet he doesn’t want to make Dick angry. He likes nice Dick, he doesn’t want him to go away. “Bruce don’t want me anymore.”

“What?”

But Jason’s eyes are growing heavier and he can only hum in response as sleep claims him once more.

The second time he wakes up is less pleasant than the first. For one, there’s no one by his bed. Secondly, the pain that was blissfully absent at his first waking has come back with vengeance. His chest and arms throb with pain and he can barely reach for the water bottle on the table next to him without crying.

He’s also in the Batcave. The medbay to be exact.

He can’t hear much beyond his own heavy breathing but Jason’s learned to pick up other signs of Dick and Bruce’s arguments. Whenever Batman and Nightwing fight, one can see it in the Batarangs that Dick tosses around in frustration. It’s obvious in the way Bruce opens up cold cases to wind himself down. Jason can just barely see the Bat-computer screen from his bed and groans when he reads that the murder dates back to 1943. Of course, the family deserves justice, but Jason wished it wasn’t at the expense of his family.

He digs his nails into the flesh of his palm. This is not his family. He should remember that.

Jason feels steady enough despite the aches to try standing. He’s pleasantly surprised when he manages to stay upright and even elated when he learns he can walk. Jason should be able to move quickly enough to avoid any more potential beatdowns.

He walks to the med bay doors and catches the sound of Dick’s voice. It’s low and furious and Jason is not surprised. He must be talking about Jason.

“-him? What the fuck is wrong with you? He was, oh my god, his ribs were broken!” yells Dick. He’s shedded the Nightwing suit and is clothed in a loose Gotham University hoodie and sweatpants. Dick had probably gotten showered and changed while Jason was sleeping. He pauses and turns around, meeting Jason’s eyes. “You’re awake.”

Jason ducks his head. “Uh, yeah.” He makes himself meet Dick’s eyes. “Thanks for the save.” Jason looks to Bruce. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come back. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Jason’s not even given the opportunity to face the Batcave exit. He knows Dick’s not a speedster, that’s the Flash 2.0 he hangs around with, but he swears that no human should have been fast enough to cover the distance between them in 2 seconds flat.

Dick is mindful of Jason’s injuries but firm when he grabs Jason around the waist and yanks him to him to Bruce. “Where do you think you’re going, Little Wing?” he asks, false humor in his voice.

“Jason,” interrupts Bruce. He’s never looked more forbidding than he does right now, even though he’s dressed in civvies. An impassive stare resides on his face. It doesn’t help Jason’s nerves one bit. “What happened?”

“I was at Crime Alley, I uh, got jumped,” responds Jason. He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “It’s fine, it happens.”

Bruce reaches out with a shaky hand. Jason stays still. He knows Bruce won’t hurt him but it has not been a good day. The tips of his fingers lightly brush over the swollen areas of Jason’s eye, so gently he can’t almost cannot feel them. Jason relaxes, Batman won’t hurt him, even though he is about to fire him.

Dick softly pushes Jason into Bruce, who envelopes him into his body. The hug is harsh and unyielding but arranged so it does not aggravate Jason. He can smell the soap from the showers and the detergent Alfred useless from Bruce’s clothes, as well as a faint hint of expensive cologne. He would say it smells like his father and just for this second, he can pretend he has one.

“Never do that again,” says Bruce, whispering right into Jason’s ear.

Jason can only agree because he doesn’t want this to end, even though he’s not sure he knows what Bruce is talking about.

Bruce’s larger form abruptly scoops Jason up and for once he doesn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed about it. He still hides his face away when he sees that Dick is still there.

“We should ice his ribs, B,” says Dick. “They must be hurting by now.”

Bruce only grunts in acknowledgement but Dick’s exasperated sigh is practically a flag of peace. Jason smiles a little.

They sit him down on the same bed. Bruce squeezes his hand once more before leaving to alert Alfred and fetch an ice pack. Dick elects to stay behind with Jason.

He defensively hunches up a little. This must be when Dick rails at him for ruining Robin. He knows he deserves it but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. “I’m sorry,” he says instead. “I know I fucked up.”

“Kid.” Dick sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think we gotta clear something up.” Jason doesn’t say anything, Dick continues. “I’m not going to be mad at you for getting beat up by a pack of thugs. I know it’s probably not your fault and no way am I going to yell at a kid with broken ribs. I’m not B.”

“Okay.”

“And I also think that B’s gotta clear somethings up too. I know he’s a dumb jerk sometimes but he probably didn’t mean to kick you out for one little fuck up on a mission,” finishes Dick.

“But I’m not you,” exclaimed Jason. “He loves you, he doesn’t… he doesn’t think like that about me.” And if Bruce doesn’t love him then he must hate him because if his own parents didn’t care enough to stick around for him then a wealthy man who is better of in every single way probably resents him for taking his real son’s place. Fuck, Jason just had to agree to Bruce’s proposal, didn’t he? He couldn’t tough it out for a few more years, find a job and maybe not feel so fucking pathetic right now.

There’s wetness on his cheeks. He’s crying. He’s crying in front of Dick Grayson. He’s crying in front of Robin. Maybe Willis was right. He might’ve been a good-for-nothing asshole but he obviously knew something if he managed to survive to adulthood in Crime Alley. Whereas Jason almost had his fucking head busted open, he was only alive because Nightwing decided to step in. He really was worthless, wasn’t he? A waste of space just as bad as his father.

Who the fuck had he been kidding? He didn’t belong here. Jason was the son of gang member and a drug addict, not Batman, not Bruce Wayne. And he definitely wasn’t Dick’s brother.

Nightwing looked surprised. “Uh kid? I mean Jason. Jason, what’s wrong?”

Jason doesn’t even know what he says next. It’s probably something cringe-inducing, considering his emotional state at the time. All he knows is that one second he’s weeping out his heart on the med bay bed and the second he’s wrapped up in Dick Grayson.

At first, he doesn’t quite compute it. Jason’s always reckoned with the fact that there will be some things in life that will be unattainable for him. It used to be his parents and college when he was on the streets, and though some things are within reach thanks to Bruce, a hug from Dick Grayson never registered on that list. It was too far-fetched, even for Jason’s dreams.

It feels real now though. It smells like old clothes and feels like hard muscles and it sounds like someone slowly breathing and encouraging Jason to slow down.

“Jason. Jay, slow down. It’s okay,” says Dick. “I got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

Jason nods from where he’s pressed into Dick’s shoulder. “Okay,” he breathes.

Dick slowly pushes away a little, just enough for them to make eye contact. “Hey, listen. I know I haven’t been the best brother.”

Jason can’t help it. “We’re brothers.”

“Yeah, Jay.” One of Dick’s hands reaches up to brush Jason’s cheeks. “We’re brothers. I’m sorry for being an asshole, it wasn’t your fault.”

Brothers. They are brothers. Jason always wanted a sibling.

“And I won’t ditch you. No matter what you do. Bruce won’t either, but I’m not him, I don’t have all his million rules and hang-ups.” Dick leaned in so their foreheads touched. “When I say you’re my brother, I mean that it’s all that will ever matter.”

Jason was a street kid, one needs a hefty amount of paranoia to survive that. But it also taught him how to differentiate the truth from a lie. Nothing in the determined set of Dick’s lips and earnest expression in his eye spoke of falsifications.

He meant it when he said he cared. He meant it when he said nothing else was important.

“Okay.”

Also link to ao3

Alsoooo opening up requests, if anyone has a gen batfam prompt I'd be happy to write it!

[batmanrogues-scenarios]

How would Riddler and Scarecrow be with a very intelligent but also kinda dense/oblivious S/O like they’re smart enough to create infinite clean energy or even a time machine but they’re SOOOO confused on simple subjects like what animal is the Pink Panther? (And maybe kinda dense when it comes to their rogue flirting with them aha)

I headcanon that S/O would be textbook smart but doesn't have experience that normal people have and is too much into logic.

Riddler

Was seriously impressed by their intelligent wanted to work with them

Tries to flirt with them everytime it seems it flies over their had

Then he made Pink Panther comment

"So they are a Pink Panther?"

"A what?"

"That cartoon character."

"What are are they?"

"... Panther?"

S/O looked genuinely confused. "But panthers aren't pink."

After some talk realizes they get all they knowledge from books but didn't really interacted with what other people did

Decides to teach them that and shows them what typical people like

Gets even more head over heels for them

Makes a sign with lights that says "Do you wanna date me?" That had a big arrow towards him and posses under it

S/O just looks at it like "Oh nice, it would be good way to tell someone you like them" and just walks away

Riddler stands under it for like half of hour out of shock

Has to straight up ask them on date

Scarecrow

Is impressed by they intelligence

Tries to understand how they do that, might ask if they can use time machine to give his bullies a lesson

Slowly falls for them

"You're living in high cotton"

"...I live in Gotham."

After that he started realizing while being a genius they sometimes are an idiot

Explains expressions and stuff they might not know

Hoped it would kill his crush but it doesn't

They are so obvious that he's the one who needs to make first move

Imagine that

[framed-incompetence]

I don’t know when I’ll be done with part two so I thought I would post the rough draft what I have so far here. Just to get something out, you know.

The working title for this part is “You Can’t Put A Price On Peace of mind” and it focuses in on the Batfamily’s dynamic in this AU from the point of view of Duke.

———💡———

Duke had high hopes for college.

Everybody does, Duke thinks to himself. But now, as he sits in his dorm at the very tail end of his first semester at Gotham University, the “college experience” everybody kept going on about back in high school might have just been one huge inside joke. A joke that maybe he’ll laugh at when he’s older and has kids of his own, that maybe he’ll tell to them and stifle his laughter when they come home over break with an endless litany of complaints falling from their lips. But now is not then and as he sits in his dorm working through his English final—that he definitely didn’t procrastinate on—trying desperately to tune out the sound of his dorm mates having a “little” get-together in the room next door and his roommate behind him loudly complaining on the phone to his friends about how much noises they are making he’s starting to realize that maybe Tim had it right

“Urgh,” he groans into his hands he checks his word count; five hundred more words to go. The yelling, banging, and music continues around him as he gets back to work. He still has two more hours until this paper is due, plenty of time.

It was a lot quieter back home, he thinks to himself. The chaos around him reminds him of what it was like before Tim was killed-, Duke violently cuts that thought off as his fingers freeze on the keyboard. It’s been months since Tim showed back up in Gotham and still, he slips up. Tim was taken, not killed.

Taken, not killed.

Taken, not killed.

Taken, not killed.

The repetition eases his mind and his fingers begin to move across the keys again. Back before Tim was taken Steph would come around so often that someone could be mistaken for thinking she lived at the manor and Barbara would come around every so often as well sometimes with her father in tow; he and Bruce would sit in the parlor for hours with drinks just talking. Now he only sees Oracle and Spoiler in the cave and the commissioner on chilly rooftops. Is it weird to miss something he is not sure he ever had?

Nevertheless, considering the signal that came through his coms early this morning that’s all going to change soon. Bruce has never used this particular signal before. Even when he definitely should have, the clacking of the keys under his fingers gets louder as Duke remembers the multiple city-wide gang wars or hostile takeovers orchestrated by various members of his rogue gallery over the years. He remembers seeing the panic and the fear so familiar in the eyes of his people as they flee once more. But most importantly he remembers the resignation in their eyes and wonders if Tim ever saw the same or if Jason, still barely out of training, has seen it yet.

He lays his head on his desk and curses Bruce for making him so distracted at the most crucial time in the semester. He breathes in, then breathes out. He lets the chaos around him block out the thoughts and memories of what awaits him back home. Of whatever fight that was so difficult Bruce needed the entire family's help to deal with it. Of Tim and his seemingly endless catalog of secrets. And of his upcoming first encounter with Damian Wayne: the eldest, the first Redbird, the perfect son.

Duke lifts his head and focuses on the screen in front of him. He has four-hundred-thirty-eight more words to go and an hour and a half to get it done. Plenty of time.

Here’s a link to part one of this AU if you’re interested:

[miasma-of-fear]

@rosesandgunfire | Continued Thread

"I don't doubt that, Dr. Crane. But you know as well as I, that you will not be treated kindly if you return to Arkham."

Not a threat- no, it was simply business. These freaks needed to understand that it was a level playing field. That he was just as much a threat as they were. "Sure, you'll get out again. You all do. But every day you spend in there is just more of the same. I can keep you here. On the outside. Hell, I'll fund the damn experiments- if you promise me loyalty."

Of course he knows. He was laying low for a reason- which became impossible for the moment when the Roman came to attempt collecting him as well.

Jonathan also knows the man standing across from him sees costumed criminals as a set of some sort, ultimately one type with no variation. Simple, lesser beings just waiting for a shining higher power to give them orders to obey. Anyone with even half a brain and any experience in this city's underground would have the sense to know Jonathan is not a follower. And given the extensive history of the Falcones in Gotham...

Squaring his shoulders and straightening his back, resulting in a nasty snap and bringing him to his full, uncanny height, the rogue glares down at the mobster. With a distinct seeth in his otherwise even tone, he responds, "I don't need any outside input tainting my work. Least of all someone pretending to be an ally when they want a tool. I can't fault you for manipulative intentions, but when it's such a poor show it seems you aren't even trying to be subtle..." He frowns and tilts his head, steepling his fingers together.

Jonathan despises the fat cats of Gotham, so self assured in their deep pockets and social sway that they believe anyone scared or awed enough to put up a fight when called upon. Stuck up, arrogant, silver spoon fed prigs like Carmine Falcone have to learn that not every individual below whatever line they abuse is going to simply take it and play nice. Not ever again, if he can help himself.

"Now, I expect to be left alone; I don't care to hear myself speak nearly as much as my fellow crazies. I would not appreciate having to decline multiple offers."

[biromanticbooknook]

My Most Ambitious Crossover

I got bored by posting only my second gen Amazon AU, so I’ll get back to that tomorrow, but enjoy this one-shot about Chloe and Marinette creating their own trip instead of their class trip in the meantime. Can’t have you all thinking I’m a one-trick pony, can I?

“-and that’s why we think you shouldn’t go on the trip this year.” Mlle. Bustier tried to look apologetic, but it was as much her idea as the students. Between Marinette refusing to set an example and Chloe associating with her, neither of them deserved to go.

“Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid I would have to get my daddy to donate 30% of the funds like he does every year.”

“I’m just glad I don’t have to take 60% of the trip funds out of my commission profits. That will give me a much bigger budget for fabric and accessories.” Everyone blanched at the statements of the 2 girls. They were saying that they paid for 90% of the trip every year, but that couldn’t be right. They worked so hard on fundraisers every year, they must be lying about how much they contribute.

Marinette just ignored them, turning to her seatmate. “Do you think that our other friends would want to go on a trip with us? Most classes take their trips during May, so we could leave at the beginning of June and take the entire summer.”

“Nice thinking, Maribug. With fewer people, prices go down and we can afford more bang for our buck.” They walk out of the classroom, discussing who to ask and when.

The class just made a big mistake.

-----

By the time the weekend rolled around, Marinette and Chloe had their group list finalized. The people going on their trip were themselves, Luka, Kagami, Aurore, Mireille, and Marc. They got together and started brainstorming fundraisers.

Marinette started. “There are the given examples; you know, car wash, bake sale, raffle. What else?”

“We could host a show.” Luka suggested.

“Like an exhibition?” Marinette asked. “We could have you perform, Kagami do a fencing demonstration, and I could do a small fashion show, using Chloe and Marc as models. Aurore and Mireille could be our MCs.”

“To capitalize on money-making, we could sell tickets, food and drink, and merch for Luka’s solo career as well as commission spots for our resident designer.”

“That’s good.” Marinette starts scribbling in the shared notebook.

“At Le Grande Paris, we could host parties. I know days when the grand ballroom is open. We could host an auction, sell lessons and creations and stuff. We could also host a masquerade ball that we sell tickets for. We could charge for food and drink. The pools are open for private reservation quite often, we could have parties there too.” Chloe takes the notebook and starts writing down her ideas, mapping out all the resources needed while muttering.

“We could also host a carnival or a gaming tournament in the ballroom.” Kagami looked thoughtful. “I’ve never actually been to one.”

Chloe added that to the list. “Should we do anything else?”

“We could start a go-fund-me. Artists and writers do it all the time to get their creations off the ground.” Marc murmured.

“That would be great. What’s our goal for this entire endeavor?”

“Our goal, Maribug, is €45,000. That should cover travel, boarding, tours, food, and souvenirs. Whatever we don’t spend gets redistributed to the group.” Chloe supplies.

“Then that should be it. Nice job, guys!”

“My, what a whirlwind of a planning session. I hope nothing rains on our parade. I wonder weather Mlle. Bustier’s class is doing this well.” Aurore beams at them.

“Mm-hmm.” Mireille agrees with Aurore.

“Probably not. Our classmates couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel. They’ll just listen to Lila that the boot will empty by itself through the toe because ‘I worked on patenting this boot’, then they’ll get mad at the boot for not doing it.” Chloe chuckles dryly.

“Be nice.” Marinette reprimands half-heartedly.

-----

Chloe immediately filed the paperwork with the school board so they could go on their trip with no safety or legal concerns. She recruited Mme. Mendeleiev and M. D'Argencourt to be their chaperones, who were more than happy to go on an all-expenses-paid trip to Los Angeles, Star City, Central City, Metropolis, Gotham, New York City, and Tokyo.

They had their first fundraiser at the end of September, a pool party at Le Grande Paris. Even Mlle. Bustier’s class attended, though they didn’t know who had set it up, only that Luka was performing. They hadn’t even started their planning  yet. The group made €3,041.

The next was a car wash in the middle of October. It was cool enough for a car wash to be pleasant while being warm enough that everyone was still out and about. They earned €2,632. Bustier's class was getting ice cream and listening to Lila brag.

They then had an All Hallow’s Eve bake sale, complete with candy decoration reminiscent of the American holiday. They earned €1,800.

During November, they held a carnival, with a full fall theme. It was wildly popular with families from all over Paris, earning them €6,483. It was around this time that Mlle. Bustier’s class held a bake sale, and earned €1,594. They celebrated.

Throughout the holiday season, they took advantage of peoples’ spirit. They held a raffle throughout the 12 Days of Christmas, while also holding a bake sale the day before winter break. Overall, they earned €10,749.

Over winter break, Chloe bought plane tickets and reserved tours and hotels, so all that was left was to get money for the tours and food. They were over halfway to their goal.

During January, they rented a theater, and held their exhibition. They had a crowd of fencing enthusiasts, rock music lovers, and fashion followers. They made €5,830.

They held a date auction and a masquerade to celebrate Valentine’s Day. It was amazing, and they earned €7,284.

They had checked their go-fund-me, and had found that €10,000 was there, putting them €2,819 over their goal. They were ecstatic!

They still held the gaming tournament at the end of April, but let it be free for everyone to enjoy as their celebration of reaching their goal.

-----

Mlle. Butsier’s class had made €7,000 over their 3 fundraisers, and they were pretty proud of themselves. No doubt they would be going somewhere much better than whatever Maribrat and Chloe have planned. Once the girls walked into the classroom, the class started to brag.

“We’ve finished fundraising!”

Marinette smiled and decided to be nice to them. “Cool. Where are you going?”

“We are going to New York City.”

Chloe was not as kind. “Oh, so are we! It was so hard to raise the €45,000 needed for our trip, but we did it. It was so euphoric to meet our goal. How much did you guys raise?”

“We made €7,000.” The smiles slowly slipped off the faces of the class. “What do you mean the €45,000 needed?”

“Well, we needed to cover food, travel, boarding, and tours, and that was just for the 7 of us. I can’t imagine what the budget would’ve been like for an entire class.” Her smile got an edge, like a lioness who knew she had cornered her prey.

Her classmates blanched. “What was our budget, Alya?” Rose looked towards their new class representative, hoping that she had an answer.

“We never had one.”

“Well, at least you filed the paperwork right?”

“What paperwork?”

Marinette responded this time. “The paperwork needed to go on a trip. You were supposed to submit it to the school board for approval of safety and legality. It was on page 17 of the packet I gave you at the beginning of the year. Didn’t you read it, Alya?”

“I-I-no. Lila said that was just extra work that you had given me to throw me off my game. She said you didn’t actually need to do all of that.”

“I didn’t know that Lila had more experience being a class representative than me and Marinette, the only 2 people who have ever been class representative here.” Chloe’s voice became as sharp and sweet as her smile. “Well, have fun with your trip. Marinette and I have to do last-minute checks on our arrangements.”

The class looked at the people that had carried them the previous years, and realized how much they relied on the girls. Lila was cursing herself for pushing away the only people who actually did anything in this class.

-----

The class ended up going to Disneyland Paris, and tried their best to look as upbeat as possible on their social medias. Meanwhile, The group was having the time of their lives.

They stayed in LA for 2 weeks, visiting movie sets and meeting actors. They spent another week just going on everything at Disneyland and California Adventure.

They then spent a week in Star City, touring Queen Industries and having a meet and greet with Oliver Queen and his ward, Roy Harper, who seemed to enjoy Aurore’s outgoing personality. They even saw the vigilantes.

They spent another 2 weeks in Central City, touring STAR Labs and watching the rogues try to fight the Flash family. It was the most meta-filled city in the world, and They toured a forensics lab with Bart Allen. Chloe seemed grimly pleased with seeing the bodies. She might’ve been projecting certain people onto them, not that she would ever admit it.

2 weeks in Metropolis was really fun. They toured the Daily Planet with Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Mireille was amazed by what you could do to report without having to be in front of a screen. They made a scavenger hunt of how many Supers they could find, and they found 2 different superboys. Lex Corp also gave them a tour, although it was more professional than the tour of the Daily Planet.

They spent 1 week in Gotham. They toured Wayne Enterprises and stayed out of the Bats’ way. Luka got the phone number of Tim Drake. Marinette enjoyed the inspiration that the gothic architecture brought her. There wasn’t much of a nightlife scene, considering only fools stay out after dark in Gotham.

Their 1 week in New York City was hectic. The Avengers were all at the tower when they were touring with Pepper Potts by Chloe’s request. Chloe might’ve been unofficially adopted by Tony Stark when she stood up to them and made them ‘cease their bullshit’. The Black Widow also took a liking to the girl. They also ran into these weird teens muttering about monsters when they were waiting for the elevator at the Empire State Building.

2 weeks in Tokyo. Their last stop. They visited the prestigious Ouran Academy, the host club getting Marc to come out of their shell by constantly helping boost his self-esteem. Chloe enjoyed talking business and finances with Kyoya Ootori. Kagami led them all in a traditional tea ceremony, before they all stormed the streets to try the unfamiliar street food.

Marinette ended up being unofficially adopted by 3 heroes, 2 rogues, and 5 billionaires. She was happy getting to spend 7 weeks on the road with only her closest friends.

The class was incredibly jealous of the trip their classmates took. They hoped next year they could go on a trip like that as well, but they had missed their shot.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

~

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

the wolf should’ve been afraid of me.

Titans 3.04

just under the wire! ... i hope.

like with the previous review, i’m typing this up as i see the episode. here we go!

spoilers ahead.

1. ... well. that was an interesting cold open.

1.25. i don’t know whether to admire this show’s restraint when it comes to gotham and its excesses, particularly arkham asylum. it’d be easy to go hammer and tongs, like suicide squad (2016) did, or any number of bat media did, at a tropey, colourful~~insanity~~ that can be quite damaging, casting mental illness in strangeness and criminality. it definitely shows gotham as... separate from the rest of the country, its own ecosystem of heroes and villains, a sort of rogue state. 

but that ecosystem is still human, with its heroes needing to clip parts of themselves away just to survive, growing old and needing to be recycled, its villains languishing in the same kinds of systems that fail everybody else who needs to be helped. it’s a quieter, tenser sort of wrongness: not strange enough that you can dissociate, but not close enough that you can completely empathise. gotham is its own creature.

1.5. i know that the reasoning behind this is more doylist than anything, but i’m so glad that joker was killed off with little fanfare right at the start of the season. he is the one man in the batverse that’s transcended its confines as this sort of ethereal boogeyman/eternal edgelord and to justify his presence in the series would mean giving him this tired, overblown importance and too much of a stab at colourful, tropey “madness” in this otherwise-subdued series. i wish all batmedia would follow suit and get rid of this fucker.

1.75. so jason is bucking scarecrow’s control! or reminding him of who exactly holds all the cards right now. circling back to what i talked about in the last review, it’s remarkable just how little time it’s been since jason’s “death” and he’s already got ‘minions’ and elaborately set up plans to track, break and kill the titans. just how long has he been planning this? when did he first look at WE weapons prototypes and think that’s something i can use to blow somebody up? and the most unsettling question: did he plan his own death at the hands of the joker just so that he could break batman?

at this point it’s obvious that the scarecrow at least started jason down this path, but it’s frightening just how far he’s travelled already.

1.8. aaagh, less than one minute in! i’ll shut up. 

2. conner washing his hands at the sink reminds me that he was directly in the line of explosion when hank got blown up and he’s probably got atomised hank-bits all over his skin that he’s desperately trying to wash off.

... you’re welcome.

2.25. conner, don’t you speak to gar fucking logan like that, sir, no!

2.3. if anything it’s the lex part of him that gave him the knowhow to recognise the weapon and build a de-activator for it. 

anyway, for that ‘half-breed’ and ‘talking tiger’ comment?

(i wish, tho, that we actually see conner more interested in the superman part of his legacy, like maybe listening to stories from gar, or even better, dick, so we get a better idea of the pressure he’s feeling to live up to that part of him and not the part that’s lex.)

((i talked about conner’s stages of moral development in his introductory episode last season, but i wonder if the next stage of his self-actualisation would be to further integrate the parts of himself and realise that they are only parts and he, conner, is an entirely different person unto himself that can make decisions on how to use what he has and what he knows. his superman abilities can be used to destroy. his lex knowledge can be used to save.))

3. oh dawn :((

3.25. is this the last we see of dawn and hank? i mean, we know donna is coming back; would it be a stretch to think they’ll try to have a go at resurrecting hank as well?

3.5. “deathstroke didn’t make us into killers.” good, because deathstroke didn’t make jason a killer either. there’s a missing step there you need to be looking for, dick. 

3.75. dick did try to break the cycle, step away from gotham, run from the possibility that he could turn into batman. it didn’t help; he couldn’t fully withdraw from his vigilante persona the same time he loathed it, and batman literally haunted him both asleep and awake. but maybe gotham doesn’t have to turn anybody into anything. maybe gotham has nothing to do with it at all. it’s about taking responsibility, realising some sacrifices are pure bullshit, and building an actual family instead of merely a team.

anyway: hugs!

(oh, also? mr “i hate flying”? i mean, there’s perfectly valid reasons to hate flying that’s not related to childhood trauma, but then again, this guy was literally a ‘flying grayson’ once. also also, remember that he also gets sea-sick. must’ve a lot of fun stories to tell.)

4. ooh that gar/kory confrontation was brief but cool!

listen, i have never seen a psychiatrist with that extravagant an office and SIR I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW--

4.5. kory’s so unused to reaching out for help and it’s breaking my heart that HPG likely is some kind of impostor that’s maybe causing her symptoms in the first place. 

kory and dick have mostly been apart this season but it’s remarkable how their journeys have paralleled each other; kory processes her grief, isolation and existential dread into a determination to take care of this new family she has, no matter what it takes; dick does much the same, forging ahead with plans and solutions until he has no fuel left in him and spirals into a massive breakdown.

4.25. listen titans this really is a TERRIBLE continuity error. we aren’t goldfish; we can clearly remember that two minutes ago it was gar’s upper arm that was burned, not his forearm. COME ON.

“sensory deprivation tank” *SNORT*

anyway, gar is the BEST

4.5. i wonder where these visions of experimentation took place. was it on tamaran, or on earth, after she came to hunt down rachel/trigon and before she lost all her memories? is HPG a part of the scientist group that experimented on her? ... god, i hope not. i mean, i think he is, but it would be cool to have some positive therapist representation in media. 

5. you’d think the van transporting a dangerous supervillain that only batman could catch would be more secure but... i’m also not entirely surprised. 

5.15. i love dick gives ZERO shits about hiding himself or even ensuring scarecrow is adequately contained. just turns away after kidnapping him in BROAD DAYLIGHT and says ‘let’s go’. I LOVE THIS DUMBASS

6. lmao gar is having a really really shitty day SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK or just a goddamn story arc of his own

6.5. i’m really confused about the timeline here. so... sometime ago, kory came down to earth to hunt down trigon, yeah? at some further point down the line she and her sister were kidnapped and experimented on. THEN she somehow escapes but... loses her memory? a few months pass and then we see blackfire alive and well and free; she kills faddei, can impersonate other people, and is clearly seeking out kory. but now she’s still in the experiment facility...? what’s going on?

i’m not entirely surprised about the facility being mostly deserted. either the biggest investors in this project gave up on it and it was left to the most fanatic to carry on, or they were deliberately trying to lure kory and get her to free blackfire--expand the environs of the experiment, so to speak.

7. hopefully barbara is going to get something to do other than listen to various men give her Attitude

8. how do you terrorise a terrorist? well:

i love when dick is a scary-competent motherfucker.

8.25. ooooh, the attack on crane at arkham a ploy to get crane to blackgate? nice one dick, i didn’t even think of that. but why though? to protect crane from the titans? to intercept the van to blackgate and “rescue” him? seems likely--red hood was there, except dick got to crane quicker.

9. still reeeallly unclear about the komand’r situation. was komand’r captured after s2? is this all A TRAP?? if so, why are you stepping into the only thing that can contain you, kory????

9.25. so... definite parallels between dick/jason and kory/kom here. i’m just. i’m still. really confused. i’ll shut up now.

10. this may be my favourite dick look yet:

woodsman!dick in a beanie.

10.5. i unironically love how titans has made this bizarrely-devoted-to-his-moniker, toxin-spewing supervillain into a tamer version of hannibal, psychoanalysing his victims into submission. it’s of a piece with how inward looking titans is, the way all of its villains are obsessed with how our protagonists’ minds work, to the point where they would actually spend time inside of them. 

there are no big plots to end the world. no apocalypses or endgames here. these villains collect the titans’ insecurities like infinity stones. the way the titans defeat them is by achieving character growth--literally winning by the power of love. literally “the real superpower is the friends we made along the way”!

10.7. anyway, i’m betting dick is used to this bullshit from crane and is humouring him in the service of getting more information. the story about the wolf? an implicit threat, not to mention dick getting to control what crane knows about him and what methods he would use to manipulate him.

am i giving dick too much credit here? i don’t think so. he’s really impressed me so far this season.

10.75. like. there’s a real unreliable narrator vibe coming off with every person that talks about bruce (much like how the various members of the titans talked about jason’s motivations) and to buy into crane’s talk about bruce being a psychopath is to fall for the same manipulation that jason fell for. dick is the only person who hasn’t really psychoanalysed bruce this season, and i think some part of his detective brain is piecing things together into a bigger picture.

11. i’m glad kory rescued kom but did she have to kill the scientist?

(i mean, yeah, probably - the less people know that kom escaped the less likely they’re going to have the fucking govt on their doorstep, but still.)

11.5. dick’s gonna come back to wayne manor, stare straight at komand’r and go, well which room would you like? because the team might as well adopt ANOTHER person, yeah?

12. oh MAN that red hood/nightwing fight was AMAZING! and he did the thing! the boomerang escrima thing! i’m so delighted!

12.5. the anger and disbelief in dick’s voice when he says you told crane EVERYTHING?! tells me that he knew exactly what he was telling crane himself.

12.75. “everything you are is because of him” - oh that reminds me of halluci!bruce from last season. i hope we see halluci!bruce again--he is so vicious but so entertaining... so much more effective at tearing dick down than crane or jason combined. goes to show that dick’s biggest enemy is own fucking head.

12.8. oh no! dick’s shot! crane is in the wind with red hood! blackfire is now with the titans! i love it!

honestly this season’s pacing is such a big step up from the last couple. gold star, show.

[anjuschiffer]

Coming In For A Diagnosis and Leaving With A Date

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @theatreandcomicfreak!!!! Sure, we’ve only known each other for a few months, but Mina! You’re so freaking amazing and I’m so glad to have met you!

So to celebrate, I wrote this for you! Enjoy it! And hope you have a wonderful day :D

------

He was here to help Damian on taking down a small-time criminal, so why were they having such a hard time taking him down?

“Damian, are you sure that-” Garfield started, only to get interrupted by his friend.

“I’m going to be fine. Go and rest. I’ll be sure to update you on-” Static filled their communication, Garfield already fearing the worst. 

“Damian.” No response. “Damian!” Garfield yelled out, quickly coming to a halt, bearing the slight burn he got from the roof asphalt. Who cares if he was bleeding from his arm. Who cares if he couldn’t retain his form for any longer than five minutes. He had to go back! Damian was in danger-

“Well, look what we have here. A lost kitten.” Garfield quickly whipped his head to see Catwoman. Or Selina as Damian called her. Despite Selina and Bruce being together for several years, the two still wouldn’t get together, much to Damian’s annoyance. If you asked Garfield, Damian probably wanted her to officially be part of the family already, not that Damian already considered her as such.

“Please don’t do that.” Garfield said, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. All the hairs on his body relaxed, but his heart still raced quickly against his chest. “Do you know what’s going on?” Garfield watched as Selina hummed, looking over to where Damian was last heard from.

“He’s going to be fine, kid. He can handle this. And if anything, he’s got Bat out there as well.” She assured, looking at the gash across his arm. “You, on the other hand, won’t if you don’t get that treated.”

“I’m fine.” Garfield protested, wincing when Selina placed pressure on his wound.

“I beg to differ.” Selina said, quickly taking out her phone, a corner of her lips curving as she typed something, pocketing it away once she was down. “See that apartment over there?”

“Yeah?” Garfield looked over to where she was pointing, an apartment building just a block over. If Garfield squinted just a tiny bit, he was able to see a few plants sitting by the window ledge. “What about that-”

“Go there and wait inside.” Selina instructed, ushering him to go. “Someone will be there shortly to help you treat that wound of yours.” Garfield turned to go, but remained seated where he was. “I’ll make sure to update you on Damian’s whereabouts.”

Seeing as Selina wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Garfield made his way to the open apartment, carefully stepping over the plants, finding himself stepping onto a sofa. He promptly took off his shoes, not wanting to dirty the poor furniture anymore than what he had already done.

As he chose to sit, he took note of how organized -and white- the room was, the cabinets meticulously neat and labeled, his eyes widening when he saw the names on some of the glass jars. 

Naloxone, bacitracin, lidocaine… where did this person even get the first and last one?

As he tried to distract himself, Garfield thought it would be a good idea to look at the white board hung above one of the work stations, ignoring the various mortars filled with who-knows-what. 

He began to panic when he saw Damian’s medical records there, quickly running towards it to grab it, quickly turning page after page, panicking when he saw that this person also knew that Damian was Robin. 

Lifting his gaze from the papers, his eyes landed on the wall files, his eyes landing on the name Wayne. 

He began to rummage through, finding the rest of the Batfam’s identities, also finding other rogues' names in the other compartments. 

His heart stopped when he came across his own file, his name staring back at him in pink ink. 

Just as he was about to look at how much this person knew about him, the sound of keys jingling broke his determination. 

He quickly began to put the files back, making sure to place them in their proper slots, quickly hopping back into the sofa as he heard footsteps approach the room along with muffled talking. 

As soon as he managed to sit down and attempt to look normal, the door slid open. 

“-should have said no. Maybe I really am a pushover.” The person muttered, Garfield feeling his breath hitch. She was pretty. Very pretty.

The girl looked at him, gaping at his appearance before throwing her bag to the side and rushing out the room. 

Garfield felt hurt, wondering what she had thought when she saw him, only for it to all go away when she came back, gloves on and a first aid kit in hand. 

He thought she already looked pretty with her hair down, but she looked just as stunning with her hair tied into a loose bun. 

“How long have you been like this?” She asked, snapping Garfield from his trance.

“Half an hour?” Garfield tried to provide, watching as she cut off his sleeve, quick to start cleaning the outer rims of his wounds. 

“I’m guessing you were like this for a while before Miss Ky-Ca-” she started to fumble. 

“I know Miss Kyle is Catwoman. Don’t gotta worry about the whole ‘secret-identity’ thing with me.” Garfield said, watching the girl visibly relax, the girl going back to focusing on clearing the dry blood with a pair of tweezers and cotton swabs.

The two remained quiet, Garfield watching as she kept cleaning his wound, wincing when she started to add the stitches to his wound.

“Sorry.”

“You’re just doing your job.” Garfield had to bite his tongue to stop from hissing from the pain. “Actually, is this your job?”

“Kind of.” She replied, adding one last stitch. “I have experience on patching up small injuries and I used to study medicine under a mentor, but that was a while ago...” the girl trailed, Garfield picking up on how her mood quickly shifted. 

“Wow, these are the neatest stitches I’ve ever gotten! You have to be a pretty amazing sewer if they’re this neat. I bet you’d also be a pretty good designer!” Garfield praised, noticing a faint blush dust her face as she placed some ointment over the stitches. 

“Matter of fact, I am a designer.” The girl said, a soft smile now on her lips. “Miss Kyle commissioned me to make her a dress for the upcoming charity here in Gotham. Although, I ended up getting roped in some things I shouldn’t have.” 

“Accidentally found out her identity?” He watched the girl nod. 

“Yup. Well...that's a part of it.” She said, taking out some bandage. “And along the way I found out about her family’s, as you saw the files over there.”

“I-I didn’t see any files.“ He said, averting his eyes from her, feeling her gaze on him. “Okay. I did.” He admitted. “But why do you even have all of those medical records?”

“Curious, aren’t you?” Marinette purred, something inside of Garfield stirring. “Don’t blame you. It’s not everyday you find someone like me.”

“You mean a pretty girl like you?” Garfield teased, watching her almost drop the pair of scissors in her hand. “Which reminds me, what’s your name?”

“Wh-what? No!” Marinette squeaked out, trying her hardest to not wrap the bandage too tight. “I meant someone who helps vigilantes and heroes while being a civilian.” Garfield hummed at that, watching as she finished patching him up. “And Marinette. My name’s Marinette.” Marinette said, checking over her work. “And seems like you’re good to go.”

“That’s it?” Garfield said in a panic, not wanting to leave just yet. “Wow, didn’t think it’d be this fast.”

“Like I said,” Marinette said, pulling out Garfield’s file and jotting something down. “I have my share of experience when it comes to these types of things.” 

“Well then,” Garfield got up, one minute himself and the next as a cat on her desk, nudging her hand for some scratches. “Thank you very much.” 

He watched as red dusted her face again, giving him a few scritches under his chin, giggling when he let out a few purrs.

“Remember to come back tomorrow morning for the follow up.” Marinette reminded, watching as Garfield pounced to the window ledge, morphing back into his normal form. “Need to make sure it heals properly.”

“Will do doc!” Garfield said, stepping out into the fire escape, only to find Damian there. “Holy shi-” He was fine!

“What are you doing here?” Damian asked with a growl.

“Umm...getting my injuries checked?” Garfield defended, showing Damian his wrapped arm. “What about you?”

“Same thing.” Damian said as he motioned to his bruised face, quickly jumping into the window. Garfield quickly followed suit.

“Damian! Just look at you! What in kwami’s name were you up to?” Marinette scolded when she saw Damian, quickly going through her cabinets, grabbing different jars. “Oh! Hi Gar! Thought we agreed to see each other tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Damian asked, narrowing his eyes at Garfield, causing him to gulp. Why was he acting like this?

“A follow up Dami, no need to get so overprotective, geez.” Marinette clarified, making Damian face her. “If anything, I should be the overprotective one. I am older than you.” Garfield could only watch as the two bickered.

“By two years.” Damian stated, hissing when she placed an ice pack over his bruise. 

“Meaning I don’t need little brother dearest to be following me 24/7.” Marinette said with a hint of annoyance, lifting Damian’s face to get a better look at the cut under his chin. “Small scratch. Nothing too major, unlike the one on your torso.”

“Wait, brother? You guys are related?” Garfield asked, this question going ignored as the two siblings kept arguing. 

“It’s just a scratch.” 

Marinette was related to Damian… his sister...

“A scratch!? You’re still bleeding from it!”

Meaning she is a Wayne...and she had quite the overprotective family, and a large one at that… just look at Damian!

“Nothing that I can’t heal on my own.”

Just what is he getting himself into?

“That’s it.” Marinette huffed, pulling out her phone. “I’m calling Grandpere.” Garfield let out a laugh when he saw Damian stiffen.

“Mari, don’t you dare-”

“Alf? Yes, it's me. Listen, Damian doesn’t want to get himself checked, insisting that his injury-stop that!” Marinette yelled at Damian, who tried to grab the phone away from her, only for Garfield to get a hold of it.

“Hey!” “Logan, hand it over to me.” The siblings said simultaneously, only for Garfield to ignore the two.

“Hey Alfred, it’s me, Garfield. Yes, a cut on his torso that’s not too deep. Yes, I will tell him to let Mari to look at it or else there will be consequences.” He looked over at a betrayed Damian and a grinning Marinette who mouthed a thank you. “Yes, I’m fine as well Alfred. Oh! And if Miss Kyle is there, please tell her I said thank you. Right. Bye.” With that, Garfield hanged up, handing Marinette her phone back.

“I won’t forget this betrayal Logan.” Damian said, pouting as he sat back down on the sofa, Marinette already having her tool out to clean his wound.

“You’re very welcome.” Garfield said, grinning as he watched Damian fuss over his patch up.

------

“Thank you for having my back Garfield.” Marinette said as he followed Damian out the window.

Marinette was able to tend to Damian’s injuries with such grace that it left Garfield mesmerized, wondering how he didn’t feel the two hours pass by.

“It was nothing.” Garfield said, averting his gaze from her, scratching the back of his head as heat rose to his cheeks. That’s when he felt a peck on his cheek, turning to see Marinette smile at him.

“A token of my gratitude.” She reasoned, fiddling with her fingers as she watched Garfiled hover a hand over the place she kissed him. “Sorry if I made you uncom-”

“No, no, no!” Garfield started, finally touching the spot with his fingers. “I didn’t mind it.” He melted when she beamed, only for Damian to ruin their moment.

“Hurry up! I don’t have all night!” Damian yelled, causing Garfield to groan.

“So about tomorrow-” Mari started, only for Gar to cut her off.

“Come in the morning for the check up. Got it.” Garfield recited, lifting his right hand. “Promise to be here at 8 sharp.”

“Well, I was thinking if you’d like to join me for breakfast after the check up.” Gar broke into a smile. “Would you?”

“Definitely!” Gar said, “Consider it a date then.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he went to join Damian, looking forward to his breakfast date with Marinette.

Marinette watched as Garfield jumped away, going back to the file she had for him. Picking up her pink pen, she drew a small heart next to his name.

She can’t wait for tomorrow’s date, even if it meant that her stupid brothers might try to stop it.

[venialsun]

to begin with, take warning (2/3)

[read on ao3]

1 | 2 | 3

When Damian found his way to his first class of the day, having missed something called homeroom and the first ten minutes, the instructor shook his head playfully and made Damian introduce himself and explain what he had done over the summer. He could not say he had spent the past few months traipsing across the globe, hanging out with killers and thieves, and dying more often than not as he tried to escape the oppressive feeling that had descended upon Gotham after years of tragedies and increasing catastrophes. So he said he spent some time with his mother’s family on their private island, which was close enough, took a seat at the back of the room, and listened to his classmates reconnect with old friends and talk about their vacations and holidays with an increasing sense of annoyance.

The rest of the morning classes were no better. The teachers would guide the students through introductions and some small talk, go through their syllabus, and sometimes begin a lesson that Damian was entirely bored by. A few of his classmates tried to speak with him, asking him questions about his family, about himself, and smiling welcomingly at him, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk about that can of worms. He was not sure what he would say, how to spin his life into something half-truthful yet still benign. He’d never had to before. The rest of the students ignored him, and he was more than happy to ignore them right back.

By lunchtime, he was contemplating leaving and telling his Father he was done with this whole experiment. But Yanez’s yellow slip burned in his pocket, and Damian was not one to give up so easily. He would make it through the day, if nothing else.

The technology atrium was between the main academic building and the arts auditorium. A squat addition to the main building with walls made of glass and supported by steel beams, it stuck out like a sore thumb against the dark slate stones and high neo-Gothic arches and spires of the rest of Gotham Academy. Damian glowered as he neared and realized this was not only the technology atrium but, according to the placard over the main entrance, the Kenneth H. Wayne Technology Atrium.

Of course.

Inside, rows of computers and long tables encircled a central desk where a young woman sat typing at a laptop. She looked up as Damian approached and asked, “What’s up?”

Damian fished out the yellow slip and showed it to her. “Principal Yanez assigned me community tutoring or whatever.”

She took the slip and scanned it. “Already? Dang, kid, what’d ya do?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. Hold on. Let me pull her notes.” She busied herself clicking and scrolling, then paused. “Oh, wow. I see. Well, hi, Damian. Glad to have you. I’m Miss Daisy.” She handed him back the slip.

“Daisy?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Well, Miss Daskalakis, but I got tired of all you runts mispronouncing it.”

“Miss Daskalakis,” said Damian, exactly.

Daskalakis smiled. “That was pretty good, actually. Okay, in about ten minutes, we should have some of the PSAT and SAT kids show up for their first prep. Make yourself comfortable at one of the tables, eat some of your lunch, and when they show up I’ll introduce you and explain the rundown.”

“Lunch?”

“You brought something to eat, didn’t you? Or you can go pick something up at the cafeteria.” She glanced at her laptop. “There’s still time, and since it’s the first day, there’s no rush.”

Damian hesitated. “Principal Yanez said I was to report here.”

“We’re not going to make you skip lunch, Damian,” said Daskalakis. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. Here, what do you want?” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll message my assistant to bring you something. He should already be at the cafeteria.”

“Anything vegetarian,” he said.

Daskalakis gave him a thumbs up. “Got it.”

He went to sit at one of the long tables. Surreptitiously, he pulled out his phone to figure out what in the world the PSAT and SAT were supposed to be. He was puzzling his way through the most confusingly worded, backwards maths questions he had ever read, when the door opened. Damian glanced up and froze.

The red-headed boy at the entrance to the atrium also froze, eyes wide like he had seen a ghost.

“Colin!” called Daskalakis. “Hey, this is Damian. Thanks for grabbing lunch.”

“Colin,” Damian said.

“Damian,” said Colin Wilkes. “Oh, my god. Damian. Dude!”

“Do you two know each other?” asked Daskalakis.

“No,” said Damian, at the same time Colin said, “Yes.” Then Colin said, “No,” at the same time Damian said, “Yes.”

“Cool,” said Daskalakis, dragging out the oo. “Cool, cool, cool. Can you guys figure that out? We have, like, five minutes.”

Colin approached and deposited what looked like a rice dish with vegetables in front of him. “Um, this is for you. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you a taco bowl minus the taco.”

“Thanks,” said Damian, accepting the not-taco bowl.

“So.” Colin sat across from him. “Long time no see, huh.”

Damian snorted. “I’ve been busy,” he said.

“No shit. Your family has been freaking out for like the past six months, saying you’re missing and Robin went rogue or something. Then the old Robin came back. The Titans restarted. Then there’s video of another Robin sword-fighting crime all over the world. I assume that was you. Dude, I thought you were dead.”

“To be fair,” said Damian as he opened his taco bowl and mixed the ingredients, “I was. A couple of times. Doesn’t seem to stick.”

Colin laughed. “Your mom?”

Damian chuckled, startling himself. “Something like that. Though the first time was a few years back. I was—gone—for nearly a year, and my Father resurrected me with alien magic.”

“Sick. I remember that,” said Colin. “You dropped off the face of the earth. Didn’t come by the orphanage anymore or sneak out with me for patrols. People were saying Batman went crazy. I thought you just decided you didn’t want to hang out anymore.”

“I—” Damian spooned some rice into mouth. Chewed, swallowed. Colin looked at him throughout, unrelenting. “I didn’t ignore you deliberately. And then after I came back, things were so…”

Colin waved a hand and unwrapped a greasy slice of pizza. He took a bite. “It’s cool, man. You literally just told me you’ve died multiple times. Plural. I can get over my hurt feelings. Seems kind of trivial in comparison.”

Damian frowned and ate some more rice. Colin ate his pizza. Then Damian set his fork down, resolute, grip tight on the handle. As evenly as he could, he said, “I apologize for not being a better friend to you.”

“Whoa.” Colin’s eyebrows shot up. His expression pinched with worry as he searched Damian’s face. “What happened, man?”

Damian swallowed.

Then the door opened again, and an older boy—sixteen or seventeen—peaked inside and asked, “Is this SAT prep?”

“Sure is,” said Daskalakis from the central desk. She stood and indicated Damian and Colin to follow her. “Come in, come in, I’ll set you up right over here.”

Damian stood. “Later,” he said in an undertone. “I’ll explain later. I promise.”

“Okay,” Colin agreed. “But if you disappear on me again, this time I know where you go to school, so there’s no use hiding.”

“Have you known me to ever hide from anything?”

Colin smirked and said nothing.

Damian’s face felt suddenly warm. “Shut up,” he said. “We have work to do.”

•

Surprisingly, tutoring his fellow students was not the disaster he thought it would be. There was some initial skepticism from the upperclassmen about being tutored by a fourteen-year-old, but after Daskalakis declared him “a genius prodigy or something, according to Yanez,” that eventually quieted. It helped that though the PSAT and SAT problems and questions were simple enough, the wording and specificity grated on him, and soon he was insulting the intelligence of the College Board and standardized tests in general. That endeared him to the upperclassmen, and afterward the rest of the lunch hour passed without trouble.

Colin sidled up next to Damian as he gathered his materials to leave and showed him a crumpled-up piece of paper. “What’s your next class?” he asked. It was his schedule.

“Physical education,” said Damian. He had already memorized his own.

“Oh, really? Sweet. Me, too. We’ll go to PE together. I met Coach Freeman at the orientation. I think you’ll like her. What about after?”

Damian listed off his afternoon classes: physical education, then biology, then ancient rhetorics, and ending with a free study period. They shared no core classes, only homeroom, lunch, and physical education. Colin teased him for taking the honors track, and Damian started to complain that the classes were not interesting let alone challenging. But then he got sidetracked by wondering why Colin was somehow not in the honors track but still Daskalakis’s assistant for community tutoring (which, Damian insisted, was a dumb idea for punishments and an even dumber name). Colin laughed and explained he mostly helped with the younger kids. He said he was good with them, thanks to all the practice he’d had helping the nuns wrangle traumatized orphans and foster kids while growing up in the orphanage.

“After all that, spoiled rich kids are easy,” Colin said. He nudged Damian in the ribs. “It’s why we’re friends.”

“I thought that was because we both liked beating up on creeps a little too much,” said Damian, wry.

Colin grinned, and for a moment his face seemed to take on the grisly severity of Abuse—Venom-distorted and menacing. “That too.”

Physical education—“Just call it PE, dude,” Colin said—was a bore, more than Damian had anticipated. After changing into their gym uniforms and the requisite round of introductions, Coach Freeman set them on an obstacle course made up of rubber tires and colorful ropes. Damian was not impressed. But he remembered what his Father had said about damaging school property and refrained from destroying the so-called obstacles as he passed his struggling classmates and returned to Coach Freeman.

“What now?” he asked. To his frustration, he had hardly broken a sweat.

“Excuse me,” said Freeman. “Why aren’t you on the course?”

“I’ve finished it.”

“You’ve finished it?” Freeman checked the stopwatch hanging from her neck. “In slightly under six minutes? I don’t think so. Did you take a shortcut?”

“No,” said Damian. “It was easy.”

“Right. Well, if it was so easy, then hop to it. Do it again,” she said. “And this time, I’ll be watching you.”

“Weren’t you already supposed to be doing that?” asked Damian, but he did not argue further and restarted the course. It was better than doing nothing and standing around like an invalid, anyway.

This time he forced himself to go slower, aware he had done something abnormal. But it wasn’t his fault he was above this child’s play. He jogged the 100 meters to the start of course, climbed up the wooden incline, jumped down, belly-crawled under the mesh ropes, alternated jumps between tires then between wooden slats, climbed the rope to ring a bell, balanced across the too-wide beams, swung from bar to bar, and finished off by climbing over three wooden walls of increasing height. At the last wall, he paused and pulled a girl who had been struggling for the last two minutes up and over. Then he jumped down and high-fived Colin, who had finished his first runthrough. Going slower had forced him to focus the strain on his muscles, and the burn in his body and clarity of mind was starting to feel comforting and familiar.

He jogged back to Coach Freeman. “Shall I go again?”

She clicked her stopwatch and stared at it. Then she stared at him. “Slightly under eight minutes,” she said. “What’s your name, son?”

“I’m not your son.” He crossed his arms. “And name’s Damian. Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne, huh?” Freeman grinned. “Well, Mr. Wayne, Gotham Academy’s happy to have you. What’s your poison?”

“Pardon?”

“Your sport, Mr. Wayne. Your sport. Everyone’s got one. And if you don’t, not to worry. The Academy’s got a team for everything. You’ll be attending the end-of-day assembly, correct?”

“It is mandatory,” said Damian.

“Perfect,” said Freeman. “The main teams will be doing showcases there. Scope them out, see what you think. General tryouts are in two weeks, and I expect to see you there.”

Damian grimaced. “Do you now.”

Freeman nodded. “Sure do.” Then her attention drifted; her nose scrunched, she blew her whistle and screamed across the field, “You two, under the mesh! Keep your hands to yourselves! No one needs to see all that!”

•

The rest of the day passed quickly. He ran the course twice more, for the hell of it, alternating between pausing to help a classmate over a particularly difficult hurdle or shouting at them to hurry the hell up so Damian could finish already. He got used to the rhythm of it, the formula of general teacher attention interspersed with student social-play. By Ancient Rhetorics, he was an old hat at describing his incredibly fun island adventure halfway across the world and not scowling whenever anyone bemoaned their envy at the life of a rich socialite without responsibilities or true problems. He had even managed to hold a few short conversations with two or three of his classmates, though for the life of him he could not remember their names. A day of nothing but introductions had thoroughly fried his brain and prevented him from retaining anything more complicated than Jessica—because there did seem to be an awful lot of Jessicas.

His phone buzzed as the early bell rang and he merged into the streaming crowd of students heading for the auditorium for the back-to-school assembly.

It was a message from his Father:

Dinner tonight.

He frowned and tapped out a quick reply.

“Hey, Damian, over here!”

Damian looked up. Across the auditorium, Colin was surrounded by a group of teenagers and waving him over. Damian approached, pocketing his phone as he went. Then he paused and groaned when he recognized the small girl with yellow hair ribbons hovering excitedly between Colin and another group of older-looking students.

Fuck it. Damian ducked behind some large boys in jerseys and helmets—not hiding, per se, just utilizing his extensive array of evasive maneuvers to achieve a desired outcome—but it was too late. She had already spotted him.

“Oh my crap! Damian! You’re here?!”

Damian sighed and accepted his fate. With as much dignity as he had left, he emerged from behind the football team.

“Of course you two know each other,” he muttered.

“Huh?” said Colin.

“It is you!” exclaimed Maps Mizoguchi. “Olive, look who it is!”

From the group of older students, a girl with platinum blonde hair glanced over and, seeing Damian, scowled. “Oh,” said Olive Silverlock. “I did hear a Wayne was coming to Gotham Academy. Weren’t you expelled already?”

“You’ll find I’m hard to get rid of, Silverlock,” said Damian.

“Yanez is a softie, of course she let you back in,” continued Olive, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Hammerhead would’ve rather died.”

“You guys know each other?” asked Colin, looking concerned and glancing between them.

“No,” said Damian and Olive, at the same time Maps said, “Heck yeah! We’re all friends!”

“Doth mine ears deceive me? Did I hear Wayne—as in billionaire, more-money-than-I-would-know-what-to-with, bordering-on-unethical-wealth Wayne?” An older boy with sunglasses popped up behind Damian and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Good sir, might I interest you in—”

“Remove yourself from my person at once before I break your arm.”

The boy held up his hands and stepped away. “Got it, got it. No touchy. I can respect that,” he said. “So, Wayne, how do you feel about acquiring some fireworks for your own personal mischief?” He tilted his sunglasses down, conspiratorially. “At a discounted price, of course. Us trouble-makers have to stick together, y’know.”

“Quit it, Colton,” snapped Olive.

“Yeah,” laughed Colin. “That was Damian being nice.”

“You associate with these people?” Damian asked.

Colin shrugged. “I’m a part-time member of the Detectives Club.”

“Pizza club,” corrected Maps.

“The what.”

“Nerd club that solves school mysteries and shit,” said a girl from Colin’s group of younger students. She waved. “Hey, I’m Jess. Nice to meet you.”

Another fucking Jessica.

“Damian,” said Damian, putting up a hand in greeting.

This started another round of introductions and names he immediately deleted from his memory. Who knew Colin was so popular? It was the first day of school; he had not thought it was possible to align yourself with so many friends so quickly unless your name was Dick Grayson.

Slowly, both groups of younger and older students shuffled forward to their seats, helped along by the half-hearted encouragement of manic-looking adults. Somehow, Damian found himself squished between both groups, Colin on one side and Maps on another, as they chatted across him about summer and clubs and the teachers they already hated. Sensing an opportunity Damian told them of his run-in with Headmaster Hammer that morning, which triggered another round of commiserating laughter and louder complaints about what a hardass Hammerhead was—for they called the headmaster Hammerhead. Olive and Maps were the only ones to defend him, citing his one-man defense of the Academy when Joker had tried to take over the city two years ago.

“So?” said Damian. “Joker’s a bitch. He tries to take over the city all the time. That’s not impressive.”

By which a stuffy-looking blond boy in the row behind them became offended, scoffing, and Damian begrudgingly felt his respect grow for Colin’s friends as they immediately dog-piled on the boy for his shit opinion. Then no one could agree who of the Gotham rogues wasn’t a little bitch. And the argument devolved from there until Olive said Batman was a little bitch, too. Everyone laughed.

The lights dimmed. An off-key note rang out as the school band warmed up, and Headmaster Hammer and Principal Yanez stepped on stage.

Slowly in fits and starts, the auditorium quieted, and the assembly began.

next ->

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 52

First

Previous

Next

~~~

Damian had set Riddler down in the pile, and now every single one of the bats was pacing anxiously.

Except for Jason, who was pointing his guns at the Rogues at random and interrogating them.

“Where was Joker? Has anyone seen Joker? Why isn’t he around? What is he planning? How had he avoided all of us --?”

“Red Hood,” said Cass, eventually, resting a hand on his arm. “They don’t know anything.”

“They’re his teammates! They’re supposed to tell each other their plans!”

Marinette tried not to wince, shoving her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.

“Right…” She said slowly. “Right, so, we need to split up and find him.”

“He could be anywhere by now!”

Tim shook his head, looking up from his phone. “His name hasn’t been mentioned on Twitter outside of everything at the Gala. And there’s no pictures of him from the Gala. It’s like he wasn’t even here.”

The bats exchanged wary looks. Ah, that’s kinda bad. Joker stood out in a crowd, so the only way he could get away without people even talking about him was if he was killing them. Or, somehow, he’d found a way to hide out. Both ideas were pretty terrifying.

“We should split into tiny groups, partners or whatever, and look.”

Jason was at her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I call Ladybug!”

She rolled her eyes with a slight grin playing at her lips. “Sure, I’ll take Red Hood.”

Damian, however, seemed less amused as he walked over and tugged on Marinette’s arm in an attempt to pull her away from Jason. “Dad, I’m her partner!” He complained.

“And I’m her mentor,” was his retort.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Kids, we don’t have time--.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How about this: Damian, you go with them and make sure they don’t kill anyone.”

Jason and Marinette cursed.

Dick picked up his phone and took a picture of Bruce, then grinned and sent out a tweet. “There. Hopefully Gotham will pick up the hashtag and we can get Joker coming in this direction.”

“Does he have a Twitter?”

“He’d be insane not to,” said Dick with a shrug. Everyone looked at him for a few seconds and his face flushed as realization dawned on him. “I… listen…”

Marinette saved him from the imminent embarrassment: “Right, we’re going off in that --” she jerked her head to the right “-- direction.”

Some people yelled ‘good luck’ and others variations of ‘please don’t kill anyone’ as they hopped the wall.

Marinette shook her head slightly as they started off in that direction. “I can’t believe we were out for three hours.”

“Who knows what he’s done by now.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Are we sure this is the right direction?”

“Well, unless you were somehow wrong about my location when I was completely still for over an hour, I’d say yes,” she chirped.

“And we’re assuming that he made a beeline for the Gala,” added Jason, though he didn’t seem happy about it.

“He did,” said Marinette. She had to at least pretend like she was confident, because Damian was looking anxious and she wanted to at least try and help him.

They hopped up onto the roof of the nearest building and split off to try and get a better look at everything.

She saw something out of the corner of her eyes and frowned suspiciously, pausing in her run and turning to look at it. It was late, Gotham was always well asleep by midnight outside of criminal activity. It was nearing 3 in the morning, no one should be out.

Her eyes detected another movement and she scowled, whipping her head around to look at it.

Cass and Duke materialized out of the shadows and she breathed a sigh of relief… then tensed up. She bit the inside of her cheek.

She briefly considered throwing down a smoke bomb but, hey, they probably knew where she was going anyways. It would only work for so long. Great. Time to talk it out.

“Heeeeeey...” She murmured awkwardly. She waved for them to follow and they all picked up the pace as they ran along the rooftops. “So… it’s not what it looks like?”

Cass raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Because it looks like you knew exactly what direction Joker would be in,” said Duke, sending her a tiny glare.

“Yeah, it’s not that,” she muttered.

Duke gave a slight laugh. “Alright, I’ll bite: what is it?”

“Chaaaance?” She earned two skeptical looks and she sighed. “Fine. I closed the portal before Joker could step through so Jason, Damian, and I could loop back around towards the warehouse after the Gala stuff and kill him.”

Cass nodded slightly. “And we can’t talk you out of it.”

It was more of a statement than a question, most things Cass said were, but she still answered: “Nope.”

The two sighed.

Marinette waited for the lecture, but it never came. Instead, the two broke off from her and helped look around for Joker.

She glanced to the side and saw that Jason and Damian were also talking to someone. Great, so it seemed that all the bat kids were there. She’d have to hope that her group could find Joker first, because she didn’t know how they were going to kill Joker if he had four people protecting him while he was also (probably) trying to kill them.

She slipped her fingers into her utility belt and she ran her thumb over the fox miraculous. She didn’t like the idea of using it along with the ladybug one, not so soon after what she’d nearly done to Penguin, but…

She heard someone touch ground beside her and turned her head slightly to see Tim, her hand sliding out of her belt.

He gave her a tiny smile. “Hey.”

She sighed. “Let me guess, Cass tipped you off?”

“Of course.”

“Does Bruce know?”

He shook his head slightly. “Nope, he’s still waiting for Joker at the Gala.”

She nodded. Good…

“Are you here to convince me not to kill him?”

He gave a shrug. “I probably couldn’t, to be honest.”

She nodded. That was true. Even if he gave an ultimatum, dating him or killing Joker, she would choose killing Joker. Even if she lov -- really liked him, the wellbeing of the city would always come first.

He sighed. “Right. I want us to work, so…” He tried to catch her eyes but she kept her gaze on the ground, glad to have the excuse of looking for Joker. “Could you promise me this is the last one? The last murder you intend on committing, I mean.”

She considered this for a bit.

“Because I really don’t want to have to Catwoman and Batman this relationship,” he added, his tone only half-joking.

“I don’t want to kill anyone at all, but this is really the only solution I could find. And...” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing in on the warehouse. She glanced around and saw that everyone was slowing to a stop. No one had seen Joker, then. The warehouse was their last hope.

Tim and Marinette skidded to a stop.

She looked at the sky and continued: “And… I don’t want you guys feeling guilty about the whole situation. So… go. Get Cass, Duke, and Dick and go. We can handle him.”

A hand slipped into hers and she smiled faintly.

“Hey, we’re all a family, right? You can’t do dumb stuff without us,” he said.

She finally looked over at him. “I mean…” Her eyes caught sight of movement over his shoulder and she sighed. “Okay, fine, you’ve forced my hand,” she said. She smiled faintly, gripping his hand tighter as he leaned down to kiss her.

And then she flipped him over her shoulder.

She heard two gasps as he slammed into someone, and they skid across the rooftop.

She whipped around and cursed the moment her eyes landed on Duke. Great, exactly the person she didn’t want to fight. She couldn’t beat him, she had found that out the hard way during sparring. He had this weird way of predicting her moves.

So she’d have to play dirty.

She grabbed a smoke bomb from her belt and threw it down. Smoke enveloped them and she ducked away to stop herself from coughing and giving away her location.

“Lucky charm,” she mouthed and barely avoided the giant cage falling from the sky. She glanced at the smoke cloud, and listened in for Tim and Duke. They were close together. Good. She channeled some of her strength as Ladybug and tossed it on top of them.

The smoke cleared slowly and they seemed to realize what had happened, running to the bars of the cage and struggling against them.

She ignored their curses. She had bigger problems.

She looked around.

Cass and Damian were fighting, which meant Dick and Jason were the other matchup.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Cass and Damian were pretty evenly matched, but Dick and Jason…

She sighed and listened in for any sounds…

There. The alley right next to the warehouse.

She jumped down and carefully, silently, poked her head around to see.

Dick was winning, and bad. He had years of experience on Jason, and it definitely showed. She hesitated. She didn’t know if they could beat him even if they combined their forces, but she decided that it was better to face him now than face him with Joker later.

Marinette ran into the alley and jumped on Dick’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck. He cursed and stumbled back, tugging at her grip. He dropped onto the ground, driving his elbow into her stomach. The air was sapped from her lungs and she instantly let go to cradle her stomach.

Dick scrambled off of her, only to get nailed in the head by a kick from Jason. He gave a groan and stumbled back, then shook his head as if to clear it. He rolled to his feet.

He looked between his two siblings for a moment, wiping some blood from his brow.

She launched herself at him, her hand coming up for a punch, only for him to flip out of the way. His foot came up mid-flip and slammed into her chin, sending her back a few steps. Her brain rattled around in her head as she stumbled into Jason.

The man cursed and took both of their weights. After making sure she wasn’t about to fall, he ran at Dick. The man met him head-on, grinning as he blocked his hit and slammed his foot into Jason’s side. There was a clattering sound and they both went to the ground.

Marinette managed to blink the spots out of her eyes and jumped at them, adding to the flurry of limbs. They all beat against each other (Marinette and Jason definitely hit each other a few times in the confusion) until eventually Dick managed to extract himself.

The three got to their feet and stared each other down. They were panting, bruised and bloody, and she was pretty sure they all had concussions. They didn’t even want to fight each other, not really...

But this wasn’t a subject any of them were willing to let go.

Jason suddenly rushed forward, slamming into Dick. They crashed through a window and, after a moment’s thought, she clambered inside the warehouse as well.

The two were rolling around, the glass-covered floors scratching their skin and suits, wrestling for the upper hand.

She looked around and grabbed the nearest item -- a board off of a window. She hit Dick in the side as hard as she could and he went careening into a wall. He slid to the ground slowly and didn’t move.

Marinette dropped the board and checked Jason over. It wasn’t good, but he was conscious and moving. She helped him to his feet and he gave a weak grin.

Only to hear laughter.

They looked around.

And saw Joker...

Who was holding a hand to Damian’s throat.

~~~

The fight scenes I write are progressively getting more and more technical. Don’t really know if this makes them more boring or more interesting but heyyyyy I have fun writing it soooo

~

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