#anyways its hurting jason hours and brother i am always clocked in

[fakakta-art]

I don't know if you've ever watched Isle Of Dogs BUT, ur animal au made me think of it. Mostly that scene with Chief where he talks abt his only home as a stray and ends it with, "I bite"

YES I absolutely love that movie, and god that scene could fit him so well!

[your-worst-knightmare]

Red: Pt. 11

Masterlist here 

Huge shoutout to @purefandomsalt for the amazing help with the article in this part. 

When Jason awoke on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, he noticed two things. One: he was, for some reason, dressed in a ridiculously oversized dark green suit. It had to be bigger than Bruce’s even, Jason couldn’t deny it. And two, more alarmingly– he couldn’t remember the events of the entire night. Or the past week, for that matter. The noise from outside suggested that Bruce was hosting some sort of event though. Maybe Jason had snuck one too many drinks. Alfred would kill him if he found out about Jason’s underage drinking. No time to think about that now– bile was rising in Jason’s throat and he scarcely made it to the toilet before emptying his stomach. 

As he cleaned himself up afterwards at the sink, he stopped to stare at himself in the mirror. He was aware of the massive suit (the sleeves which he had rolled up)  on his lanky frame. But it was his hair that made him pause. Yes, it was gelled back– if not a bit messily for this early into the night, but there was white. More specifically, a white streak in his hair that seemed so… stark. Was this someone’s idea of a prank? Because he was sure he didn’t remember dying it. 

Okay, just move on, Jason thought as he washed his face. It’s just hair anyway. It doesn’t look too bad. He just needed to sneak upstairs and wait this whole party out. He wasn’t feeling so great anyway. He stole one last look in the mirror, hiking up the sleeves of his jacket again when his eyes flashed green. Jason scrambled backwards. What the hell? They looked almost metahuman-ish and he was fairly sure he was not one. 

With the green flash came an itchiness in his brain. It wanted something– havoc, carnage. Jason didn’t want any part of it. He steadied himself on the sink. Breathe. That’s what Bruce always said. 

The prickling eventually subsided, along with the green in his eyes. Jason breathed a sigh of relief. What on Earth was that? He opened the bathroom door cautiously and checked the hall for any nosy socialites. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he dashed upstairs to his room. He noted the new “injuries” the walls seemed to have sustained as he walked. Scratches and dents, ones that seemed too random to be from a single fight. What happened? 

 His room had changed too. The walls– which were previously a dark blue were now a muted grey. Most of his stuff– useless stuff that he had collected–were gone. Framed posters hung around the room and Jason was baffled that he didn’t recognize most of the names on them. Had his double life as both Robin and Jason Todd really affected his knowledge of pop culture that much? 

He opened his closet to find another surprise. All the clothes were at least four sizes too big for him. Whoever set up this prank must have put in a damn lot of time. After rummaging around to at least find some of his own stuff, he stopped. Hidden in a drawer was a small handgun. He picked it up gingerly. It was loaded. His eyes widened when he inspected the barrel of the gun. J.T. His initials.

What would Bruce say? Where had this even come from? Jason placed the gun back into its hiding place, closing the drawer. He would focus on the problem at hand. Clothes. He needed clothes that actually would fit him. 

Jason stepped out into the hallway to look for wherever his real stuff was. The prankster had probably put them in the spare room next to Jason’s– it would require the least amount of effort. Nobody really went into it anyway. He was just about to push open the door when he heard someone inside. “Hello?” Jason asked, knocking lightly on the door. Upon hearing no response, he opened it. 

No sooner had he cracked the door open when he was slammed against the wall. A girl, about his age, held a blade to his throat. She looked like she had ditched the party downstairs as well, apparently having traded in the dark green dress currently lying on the bed for a pair of sweats. Her red hair had been meticulously styled at some point, but had since been pushed back and out of her face. 

“Where am I?”she asked.

“Wayne Manor, you probably came here for the party,” Jason replied, if not as smoothly as he would have liked. 

“Wayne Manor…” she muttered, thinking. “Who are you?”

“Jason. Uh, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne’s ward…” 

She thought for a moment before letting him go. Jason inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. “Why are you wearing an ill-fitting suit, Jason?” 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his neck. ”I woke up about half an hour ago in this thing.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you remember any recent events, of how you got to this party?”

“No… wait, you don’t either?”

She shook her head. “Last I remember, I was on the other side of the Atlantic. I certainly don’t remember coming to this party to have a matching outfit with you.”

Jason eyed the dress on the bed. There was no doubt that both his suit and the dress were intended to be a pair. How he’d managed to get this girl to coordinate with him, he had no idea. He didn’t even know her name. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Artemis. But that is unimportant. We need to figure out what is going on here,” she said, marching into the hallway. 

“Wait wait wait,” Jason hissed, grabbing her shoulder.

“Touch me again, Little one, and you will cease to have arms.”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Just– We can’t go downstairs. The press will have a field day if they find out anything is going on at Wayne Manor.”

Artemis stopped. “Fine. What do you propose we do?”

“First, let me find some clothes that actually fit me, and then we call Alfred. He’ll know what to do.”

The pair wandered through the rooms, most of which Jason didn’t even know were being lived in. Some of them had pictures of people who either seemed to age five years on camera or people he didn’t even recognize. Hell, he found some of someone who looked suspiciously like an older version of him, except way taller and more built. Something was definitely up. 

Jason finally found a t-shirt and sweatpants his size in a room that was probably meant for a vampire. All precautions had been taken to block out the windows. And it seemed like a very paranoid vampire, at that. The amount of red string in the room was appalling. “This is an odd bedroom,” Artemis remarked.

“Yeah, don’t remember it. Like at all.”  

They went back to Jason’s room to try and think through the situation. About five minutes into comparing notes, Jason’s phone buzzed. Funny, he didn’t recognize this model. There was a text from Dick. 

‘Hey, u ok?’

‘The food wasn’t that bad, was it?’

‘Dude, where r u?’

‘It’s been an hour’

‘D U D E’

Jason quickly replied. 

‘Come upstairs’

‘My room’

‘We have a situation’

No sooner than two minutes had passed when Dick arrived. “Hey, Jason what’s–” Dick stopped at the doorway dead in his tracks. 

“What?”

“Jason?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Yes, that’s my name Dick. Stop messing around and help us.”

“You’re a kid…”

“Your brother is quite slow,” Artemis remarked, twirling the knife in her hands.

“I’m almost sixteen, dammit. Snap out of it and help, will you?”

“Jason… you’re supposed to be twenty.” He ran his hands through his hair, still not fully understanding the scene. 

“Then why don’t we remember anything of the past five years?” Jason asked, voice rising with every word. 

“A spell, perhaps. One that sent us back to our adolescent selves,” mused Artemis. 

“Who would do that?”

Dick thought for a minute. “Jason, did you get into trouble with anyone? Did you have any information that they don’t want you to know?”

“Well how am I supposed to know, Dick?” Jason burst out, throwing his hands into his lap. “Why don’t you ask my older self? I’m sure he has loads to tell you.”

“Okay, okay,  calm down. We’ll figure this out, Jay. Just– agh,” Dick grunted, pacing the room like a madman. “Just stay here for now. We need to figure out how this happened.”

“Whoever did this is probably long gone. Unless Jason and I possessed something of importance, I can see no reason for anyone to do this other than amusement.” Artemis narrowed her eyes. “ And if it was for mere mockery, I will–”

Dick laughed nervously. “Yeah, we get it Artemis. You’re mad. We’ll figure this out guys.”

“Yeah? Then at least explain this.” He pointed to the white streak in his hair. “Or would you rather explain these,” Jason glowered, allowing the flood of green carnage to fill his eyes. “Or how about the damn gun in the closet, Golden Boy?”

“Look, Jason, when you got older, your… relationship with us wasn’t… the best. We barely saw you… and I can’t tell you what happened because of that.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Just stay here for now. I’ll get some help,” Dick ordered before stepping back out into the hallway.

“He’s lying to you,” Artemis said plainly. 

“I know.” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to reign the green back under control. “He’s bad at it. I just wanna know who I became, you know?”

“Likewise. I will be in my room. Knock if you need me.”

With Artemis leaving him alone, Jason slumped onto the bed. His bed. The room didn’t feel like his anymore. Then again, he wasn’t even sure who he was. Maybe he just needed to deal with all of this in the morning. Maybe he would be able to remember things better when his brain wasn’t as fried as it was right now. Maybe if he just closed his eyes...

He was met with laughter. He recognized it, but this time it only seemed more maniacal. The Clown Prince of Crime couldn’t let him be even in his resting moments. All he could see was red. Blood pooling on the floor around him, the red numbers of a clock counting down, the tatters of his uniform giving way to mutilated flesh. He gasped, for air, for life, both of which he felt was being forced out of him. And then it was forced back in. He didn’t want it. The acrid, stinging, burning life. He felt alive, and it hurt. He was drowning in it, sinking, sinking, sinking uselessly clawing upward at a heaven that rejected him. The crazed laugh mocked his misery, simply cackling until Jason could take it no more.

Jason awoke with a start. He was drenched in sweat and his hands shook so badly that he had to steady them on the blanket. The damn knock on his door didn’t help matters. “Give me a sec!” he called, in as steady of a voice as he could. The clock read early into the next morning. So he’d slept through the end of the gala then. That was a relief. He dried his face and composed himself before finally letting the guest in.

 Artemis stood at the door with a laptop in hand. “I have found some information you may want to read,” she said, walking towards his desk. 

He managed a dry laugh. “I thought you hated me. Why’d you come find me?”

“I thought through some things, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I wouldn’t have trusted you without reason. Now stop whining and come here.” The Amazon slid the computer onto the table and motioned for Jason to sit down. “This is from last night. It’s from the Gotham Enquirer.”

His curiosity got the better of him and Jason did as he was told. Under the title was  a picture of his older self, a face he recognized only from pictures around the manor. He was standing with Artemis with an arm slung around her shoulder. He took a breath and started to skim through the article.

One Less Wayne Bachelor? 

By Maylen. K. Bird 

Gotham’s most awaited party has finally arrived, and it’s creating a buzz on the internet. With it’s large palace-like venue along with its impressive guests, (A-listers celebrities and high class rich folk– the entirety of the Wayne family included) it’s easy to see why. The Wayne charity gala was a stunning success for all parties involved- raising well over their aim for the night, donations exceeding half a trillion. The funds will be directed around the city to support soup kitchens, shelters and orphanages. 

However, what has the public scrambling is the unknown face brought to the gala by the elder Wayne boy. Jason Wayne, not usually known for even attending public events, brought a mystery woman to the party last night, one confirmed to be an Amazon. Quite the partner to say the least. 

Dubbed as the “lovable murderous recluse” by the youngest Wayne , it was quite a shock to both guests and reporters alike. If the piece of eye candy wasn’t enough, his plus one has us all drooling. Gothamites longing for his attention are certainly crestfallen, as finding an equal to his partner is no easy feat. The fiery-haired beauty wore a stunning outfit: A viridian halter-dress (which was worn too elegantly to be natural) matching Jason Wayne, which in itself was evidence enough of their closeness.

The two spent the entire night together, virtually ignoring the rest of the guests. Like a true gentleman, he invited his date to dance with a romantic flair. We didn’t expect anything less from a Wayne. Upon being asked about his relationship with the Amazon, the Wayne gave us this polished statement: “She prefers a more private life if you please. If you must have something, however, we met through work.” 

It is already well-known that Jason Wayne has invested much time and resources into countless charity projects. On working with Wayne,  the Amazon gave us this gem: “Jason truly wishes to help people at his core, and I only hope I am able to aid him in that. Through our work we have become very close, and I trust him with my life.” 

Albeit both very scripted responses, we managed to gather a more candid testimony from Jason’s  brother. Dick Grayson told us that the couple’s relationship has been recent news. “Jason’s never said anything about this before. He tends to be a private person, so consider yourselves lucky to even witness this. I’ve honestly never seen my little brother so happy.” Grayson goes on further, sharing a juicy timbit of information saying; “ They actually told us they were attending the gala a few days ago, we had no idea they were a thing, but Jason actually coming all dressed up for an event like this was shocking enough to stop me from connecting the dots. I’ll say it right here– I’m just waiting for the wedding ring.”

So could this be it? The Waynes' may be receiving a new family member, and to our surprise it's the wedding that nobody expected. 

Stay tuned as we try to get details on the potential wedding and this budding romance. 

 Jason whistled through his teeth, his eyes widening in surprise.. “What the hell did I just read?”

“I cannot be sure how much of this article is true or how reliable our own words are.” Artemis leaned onto the back of Jason’s chair. “But what I can take from this is that we were certainly close. In what sense, we must find out.”

Jason nodded exhaling. “Do you have any more information about me?”

Artemis brought up a new file, something obviously stolen from Bruce’s records. “I assume we really worked together through this. The Outlaws, as we are known.”

He huffed. What mess was he throwing himself into now? Nevertheless, he dove into the file. 

He had been one of the founding members of a team called the Outlaws. He was no longer Robin. The record didn’t say how or why he’d shed the mantle, but it said who he’d become. The Red Hood. Former Robin. Former crime boss. Current vigilante. One willing to cross lines. 

His team– the Outlaws– were all willing to cross lines. To spite their mentors, maybe. The lineup consisted of dishonoured proteges: A disgraced Arrow. A fallen princess. A failed Superman. A would-be-Wonder Woman. And him. A former Robin turned monster. What had he become?

Jason rubbed his face. He was honestly scared to keep reading, on account of what he might find. He wasn’t let down. The kill count made his breath hitch. He had a kill count. The Red Hood was confirmed to have taken close to one hundred lives. One hundred. He had taken one hundred lives. Maybe more. 

Part of him wanted for someone- anyone to tell him that it wasn’t true. That it was all a very elaborate joke. The other part of him knew it wasn’t going to happen. Just like how he knew deep down that his mom was really gone. And how he knew that she wasn't coming back no matter how much he begged her to. 

Artemis sat on his bed, tight-lipped and serious. Jason was sure, at least from her files, that she had only redeemed herself from the self that she remembered now. The opposite was true for him. “Are you alright, Jason?”

He wiped his eyes as discreetly as he could. “I don’t know. I don’t want to– just… I don’t even know what to make of this.”

“Sometimes death is necessary, you know.” 

“Yeah, coming from a mercenary turned vigilante. Or however the hell you see it.” His words dripped with venom and green began to edge his vision. Jason sighed, regretting his words. Artemis was going through the same thing as he was. He left the laptop on the desk and joined Artemis on the bed. 

“Sorry, just so much going on.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “We go through this together, okay?”

He gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Okay.” 

[autumnhobbit]

All the batfam finally bonding and forgiving each eather thanks to alfred birthday wish.

For once, Bruce woke up early on his own–this time, by design. He blinked bleary eyes at his alarm clock. The bright red numbers read 4:53. The sky outside his window was glowing faintly from the lights in the city, and he could hear the birds beginning to make noise outside.

With a stifled groan, he pushed himself up onto his elbow, slowly climbing out of bed and heading for the shower.

He had a lot of work to do to prepare for the day.

___

Dick had gotten in from the night shift a bit late, and had gone straight to bed, but he woke bright and early at 6:45. His subconscious had been super-paranoid about accidentally forgetting, so he woke with a jolt that was less than pleasant. He heaved an exhausted sigh, but pushed himself up out of bed and grabbed a shirt. He didn’t plan on being home until suppertime, anyway, but it never hurt to be prepared and get an early start. He had a bunch of errands to run beforehand. Today was the day.

____

Jason woke up when the first rays of sunlight lit up his apartment bolthole–he’d accidentally pulled the curtain down three days prior while trying to climb in after getting a laceration down his forearm. He growled squeakily at the harsh light, rolling onto his side and lifting an arm to try and shield his eyes, but he accidentally lifted the injured one and hissed at the pull of the stitches. He gave up, dropping his arm with another growl. He threw his covers off and rolled off the mattress onto the creaky tile floor. He pulled himself to his feet on the rickety linoleum counter and staggered into the kitchen, washing his hands and then dragging out various containers of dry ingredients.

He had a lot of baking to do before this evening.

___

Tim woke up in a panic at 9:34. He’d stayed up too late the night before, running through the latest investments and tax brackets with Tam (though she, being an altogether better person, had quit at 11:00 and gone home.) But he sighed in relief once he’d scrambled desperately for his phone and checked the time. Good. He’d have plenty of time to spare for everything that needed doing. He hopped out of bed, landing haphazardly on one foot and pivoting to quickly make his bed. One less thing to worry about. With that, he snatched a change of clothes and high-tailed it to the shower.

He had a lot of work to do before tonight.

___

Damian woke up at 8:13, but stayed in bed much longer than he meant to, just watching the clock lethargically, with nothing to pass the time but the growing brightness outside, the quiet clicking of the clock, and the dull throb in his heart.

He knew what today was; he’d noticed it on the calendar, had marked it himself and counted the days and brainstormed and plotted. But he was certain there wasn’t a single thing he could do today that one of the others wasn’t already doing, and he couldn’t for the life of him come up with an appropriate, unique gift for so important a person.

Alfred came trotting in cheerfully at 8:26, leaping onto the bed lightly and nudging Damian with a cold nose, purring softly.

“Tt,” Damian huffed, freeing a hand from the blankets to stroke the cat’s head. “At least you are in a good mood today, Alfred.”

Alfred mewled quietly and pressed up against Damian’s face, nuzzling him to encourage him to keep petting.

“I am a failure as a grandson,” he admitted to the cat in a low voice. “I haven’t the slightest idea what to give Pennyworth.”

The cat simply clambered up on Damian’s hip and began walking in a circle.

“There is bound to be something I can give him!” Damian flopped back against his bed. “I only wish I knew what he liked. And that I had a relevant talent…”

Alfred mewled, curled up on Damian’s hip.

“Perhaps…” Damian wrinkled a brow. “Perhaps I do have an idea. That might be…tolerable. Yes.”

Damian sprang off the bed. The cat scrambled off his hip with a whine.

“Apologies, Alfred!” Damian called behind him as he ran off. “But I have work that needs doing!”

____

At 9:00 sharp, Alfred emerged from his room in the corner of the house, clad in slippers and his house robe. He headed down the hallway, whistling softly, and stepped into the kitchen.

Bruce stood at the counter, loading sizzling food from the skillet onto a plate. He grabbed the salt and pepper shakers and sprinkled a dose of the seasonings onto the food, then turned with a half-wry smile. “Morning, Alfred.”

Alfred arched an eyebrow with a half-smirk. “Morning Master Bruce. And what might that be?”

Bruce grinned. “A full breakfast, of course.” He set the plate down on the island and shoved it lightly over towards Alfred. It slid to a stop right beside the glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice and the bowl of fruit, cut neatly. “Bacon, eggs over-easy, sausage, grilled tomato, mushrooms, toast and marmalade, and a cuppa Earl Grey.” He glanced down a bit, almost shyly. “As always.”

Alfred allowed himself a fond smile for the man. It seemed like it had only been yesterday when he was barely twelve and had taught himself how to cook some of Alfred’s favorites with a recipe book. The food had been undercooked in some places and scorched in others, but Master Bruce had made it himself and done it out of love, so Alfred was grateful. (Though it was nice to have properly cooked food, now.) With that in mind, he pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. “And as always, you have my gratitude for that, Master Bruce.” He picked up the fork which was placed neatly beside the plate.

“I’ll be around the Manor today, so no chores.” Bruce fixed him with a stern look. “We can survive a day without them. And I will see you.”

Alfred sardonically raised an eyebrow. “Why, Master Bruce,” he said. “What sort of butler would I be if you could see me?”

____

Dick wandered through the aisle of a department store at 10:00 in the morning, examining various hats and handkerchiefs. After the third identical wool flat cap in slate instead of heather grey, he sighed.

A girl passed by his aisle and then hesitated, ducking back in. “Morning! Can I help you find anything?”

“Maybe,” Dick sighed. “I don’t know. I’m looking for a birthday present for an elderly British gentleman, but I buy him the same thing every year and I kinda feel bad about it.”

“Hmmm.” The girl came closer, glancing at the flat cap in Dick’s hands. “What does he like?”

“Well…” Dick sighed. “He’s not picky. That’s kind of the problem. I know I could buy him anything and he’d be happy with it because it was from me, but I…want to get him something he’d really like on its own merits, you know?”

“That’s always hard,” the girl agreed, wrinkling her nose.

“I’m not buying him food, because he could cook or order anything he wanted, I can’t do charity because my younger brother’s doing that already, I can’t do chores because my dad’s doing that, so. I’m stumped.” Dick sighed, setting the cap back on the shelf.

“What about practical things?” The girl asked. “Is there anything he uses a lot?”

Bandages, blood, medical tubing, Dick thought, but didn’t say.

“–Or anything he likes particularly?”

Dick sighed. “Not that I know of–?” Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. “I, uh. Thanks so much for your help, but I think I need to stop by the hardware store!” He started to run off, but then ducked back in to grab the slate flat cap. “I’ll, uh, get this, too,” he said sheepishly.

____

Tim flipped quickly through the thick stack of papers, scanning the endless stream of words with a critical eye. “You sure you’ve got everything in there, Lucius? Nothing else I need to sign to make it official?”

Lucius gave Tim a slightly-stern but warm look from behind his glasses, perched on the bridge of his nose. “Nope. It’s all in there. Paid in full. Everything’s good to go.” He nodded towards the stack. “You gonna tie a ribbon on it or something?”

Tim shook his head with a wry grin. “Nah. Put it in a box, I guess.” He stood up. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Lucius. There’s no way I could have gotten it done in time without your help.”

“Oh, don’t mention it, Timothy,” Lucius waved a hand dismissively. “It’s my pleasure for all you do around here. And for all Alfred does. Do give him my regards and best wishes.”

“Will do. Tell Tam I said hi,” Tim said with a smile, waving as he headed out the door.

____

Damian madly dug through a stack of boxes in the west library, setting them down in a stack on the floor. Finally, he found the box he was looking for and dropped down onto the floor, crossing his legs as he sat and dug through the box. The photos were glossy, and he handled them carefully as he sifted his way through, stacking potential candidates neatly beside him. Finally, he had a satisfactory collection of photos. He slipped them into an envelope to protect them, and hurried back to his room. He only had a few more hours to complete his gift.

____

At precisely 4:52, the hall window opened from the outside and Cassandra slipped in. Alfred heard her entry from the sitting room where he sat with a book and a cuppa, enjoying the quiet late afternoon. He rose from the chair when she came into the room. “Cassandra,” he said warmly.

“Hi,” Cassandra replied with a beam, stepping forward and into his open arms. “Happy birthday,” she whispered, carefully and deliberately, and Alfred smiled into her slightly-tangled black hair.

“Present now?” Cassandra asked.

“If you wish to give it to me now,” Alfred replied easily, and Cassandra pulled back with an impish grin, digging in her belt. Alfred held out his hand, and she deposited a tiny, resin statuette of Batman seated in a miniature rocking chair.

“And wherever did you find this?” Alfred asked, not bothering to hide his grin.

“Cracker Barrel.” Cassandra bit her lip, she was grinning so hard. “With Barbara.”

“Well done,” Alfred said approvingly. “Onto my nightstand it goes.”

___

At precisely 5:15, Alfred was seated at the set dinner table, Cassandra sitting a few chairs down, waiting patiently for Bruce to finish with supper. Alfred took a sip of his wine. Cassandra obligingly took a sip of her chocolate milk and grinned at him.

The front door opened and closed with a colossal bang, and Dick came running in. “Alfred!” He cheered happily. “Happy birthday!” He pulled the older man into a hug without ceremony, hands still full of bags. Alfred returned the hug, nonplussed. “Thank you, my dear boy. It is wonderful to see you.”

At that moment, the garage door opened and closed with a thunk, and Tim was skidding to a stop in the middle of the kitchen, a bag in his hands, panting. “Sorry I’m late, Alfie, I swear I meant to be earlier but traffic was bad and I had some things to finish off at the office–”

“Oh, don’t make a fuss about it, dear boy. The important thing is that you’re here.” Alfred reassured him, and Tim sighed, setting his bag down on the counter and taking a seat at the table in between Dick and Cass. He sniffed curiously. “What is that? It smells fantastic.”

“Roasted lamb in onion sauce with fresh vegetables and bread,” Alfred said proudly.

“I…didn’t know Bruce could cook that,” Dick said, mystified.

Alfred laughed. “Master Richard, I will admit that domesticity is generally not Master Bruce’s area of expertise, but I would not have allowed him to reach manhood without teaching him something.”

At that moment, the window jiggled, and as one the children turned to stare, though Alfred took another sip of his wine, completely unconcerned. A basket that smelled of warm bread was tossed lightly through the window onto the floor, and slowly but surely, Jason Todd awkwardly followed, dressed in torn jeans, worn-through sneakers and a clean t-shirt, through the window that was slightly too small for him.

“I was wondering when you’d be by, Master Jason,” Alfred said, sounding distinctly unsurprised.

“Sorry it took m’ so long, Alf,” the boy responded tightly, one foot on the ground now, as he attempted to unsnag his other leg from the window. “Ruined the first batch ‘cause I stopped a mugging.” He finally got his foot free, and hopped down onto the floor, scooping up his basket and setting it on the counter with a flourish, stoically ignoring the stares of his brothers as he scrubbed a hand through the bangs that were falling over his eyes.

“What on earth happened to your arm, young man?” Alfred pushed back from the table and approached Jason before the boy could react, pushing back the sleeve to reveal the stitches.

“Glass,” Jason responded. “S'nothing, really.”

“Well at least you had the sense to stitch and cover it,” Alfred sighed, gently shifting the limb in his hands to inspect it. “No sign of infection. And it had better stay that way,” he said, fixing a stern gaze on the boy. “I will not stand for you coming down with a fever or sepsis.”

“Yes, Alf,” Jason mumbled softly, ducking his head.

The door to the kitchen opened, and Bruce emerged with a tray of lamb in hand. He froze as he took in the sudden surplus of his family in the room, stiffened slightly upon seeing Jason, and finally fixed a confused look on Alfred.

Alfred sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “My birthday wish—if you must know, since you’ve all been nagging me—is to have my whole family safe and under this roof, not killing or injuring each other or arguing about complex moral philosophy. I believe, after thirty years of service, Master Bruce, that you can manage that for one evening.” He glanced back at the table—Damian had quietly slipped in and taken a seat across from Dick, Tim, and Cassandra. “Can’t you?”

The children all resoundingly agreed, in an immensely confusing and loud manner. Alfred turned back to Bruce, who looked surprised, and then shrugged.

“Very well then, it is settled.” Alfred said calmly, resuming his seat. “Master Jason, do sit down,” he directed towards the boy, who was standing and looking very much like a skittish animal.

Awkwardly, Jason slid into the seat beside Alfred, across from Dick.

___

After the first bit of awkwardness passed, the chatter at the table started up and didn’t stop at any point through the meal, except to truly appreciate Jason’s homemade scones and clotted cream, at which point there was an entire five minutes of no sound but chewing. Once supper was thoroughly finished, and the dishes had been washed and set on the rack to dry, the entire group moved to the living room.

“Do you want to go first, Timmy?” Dick asked, when everyone was settled in.

“Nah. You go ahead, you seemed excited.” Tim smiled easily.

“Alright.” Dick snatched his pile of shopping bags and ran closer to where Alfred was seated in an armchair.

“So, I got you…a flat cap,” Dick said impishly, retrieving said item from one of the bags.

“In slate this time, I see,” Alfred said, bemused.

“Yep. Buuuut…” Dick grinned. “I also got you a very bright lamp to use down in the Cave, because I noticed how worn out the current one is.” He tugged the large box out of a plastic bag surrounding it, setting it down on the floor.

“That is a most thoughtful gift, Master Dick,” Alfred said warmly. “It will certainly spare me many headaches.” He opened his arms, and Dick happily accepted the hug. “Thank you, dear boy.”

“You’re welcome,” Dick said, almost shyly.

“Master Timothy, would you like to go next?” Alfred asked over Dick’s shoulder, noticing Damian’s reticence.

“Sure,” Tim shrugged, grabbing his own bag. Dick moved to the side and sat down, waiting expectantly.

Tim awkwardly cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, digging a stack of papers from inside the bag. “So,” he said, his voice sounding vaguely businesslike, as if  he was giving a presentation at Wayne Enterprises. “As per your usual request, I made a donation of $10,000 to the Thomas and Martha Wayne Recovery House. However, I also added a bit of an extra touch; the new community room will be dedicated in memory of Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis Pennyworth. And,” Tim went back to his bag and retrieved a plaque, “here is a copy of the sign that certifies it.”

Alfred accepted the plaque with misty eyes, and Tim gave a soft yelp when he was pulled into a hug of his own. “You are a remarkable boy, Master Timothy. Don’t ever believe differently.”

“…Okay, Alfred,” Tim said a bit awkwardly, still fully cooperating in the hug. After a moment, Tim was released and Alfred, with a final pat to his shoulder, glanced at Damian, who was hunched over in his seat, studying his hands and decidedly not making eye contact. “Master Damian?”

Damian glanced up and met Alfred’s gaze once, then looked away, eyes slightly glassy.

“Now there, Master Damian,” Alfred said gently, crossing the room and kneeling down in front of the couch. “None of that. What’s the trouble?”

Damian glanced up, nervous and hesitant. “I…I couldn’t think of anything,” he half-choked. “Nothing as good as any of theirs! Nothing…” his voice dipped. “Nothing you deserved.”

“Oh, Master Damian,” Alfred gently tilted the boy’s chin up. “You are my grandson. I would be pleased as punch with anything you gave me.”

Damian blinked. “You’re just saying that,” he said tiredly. “You’re too kind, so you would enjoy anything, regardless of whether it was good or not.”

Alfred shook his head. “Show it to me anyway.”

Damian gave a small, shaky sigh, then stood up and retrieved an envelope from the coffee table, then sat back down, turning it back and forth in his hands.

“I…I didn’t have much time to work on them,” he breathed, sliding a piece of ivory cardstock down into his hand. “They’re not very good, but…”

Alfred quietly caught his breath at the inked sketch of a ten-year-old Bruce’s profile, a quiet, fond smile playing on the edges of his mouth. He lightly tugged the stack from Damian’s loose grip, and slowly, almost reverently looked them over. A rough sketch of Dick at eight, upside down on a trapeze, laughing joyfully. One of Jason reading a book, curled up in a too-large chair.  Tim sprawled on the couch, Cassandra sitting on the stairs.

Damian said nothing, his face flushed and his expression anguished, in a way only a ten-year-old’s could be.

“Master Damian,” Alfred said, hushed. “These are some of the most kind gifts I have ever received.”

Damian’s green eyes snapped up, shocked. “…Truly?” he asked, tentative, and Alfred bit his tongue against a very rude thought towards the al Ghul’s.

“Truly,” he said. Damian leapt for him first, and he caught the small boy and wrapped his arms around his tiny body.

Damian buried his face in Alfred’s neck. “Happy birthday, Grandfather,” he whispered hoarsely, and Alfred closed his eyes against tears of gratitude.

(Ao3 link here.)

[shrek-on-the-dance-floor]

I had a writing assignment in my sophomore year.

It’s about a clock that tells you when you die. What was I thinking? Who hurt me? Am I insane? Is this a scene or a god damn arms race?

                                               The Death Clock

I was born on January 29, 1995. I was a healthy baby, normal size, normal weight. That wasn’t on everyone’s mind, however; the Watch was.

Everyone is born with a Watch. It counts down.

To your death.

My watch at my birth showed 18:09:03:15:45.59. 18 years, 9 months, 3 days, 15 hours, 45 minutes, and 59 seconds. That’s how long I’ll live.

I’m lucky; there were babies born on that day, all around the world, that only lived for 10 minutes, 5 minutes, 30 seconds. There were babies that lived only for 1 second.

The Watches are bittersweet; on the one hand, you’ll know when you die. On the other hand, you’ll know when you die.

My name is Marcus Tolcater. I am 18 years, 9 months, 3 days, 15 hours, 15 minutes, and 10 seconds old. I only have thirty minutes left. For the past year-and-a-half, I’ve been completing my bucket list. I’ve skydived, ran a marathon, swam in the world’s largest swimming pool, and solved a Rubik’s cube multiple times. I only had a few more things left, but I ran out of time. Oh well.

Living with a Death Watch is kind of hard; every now and then you see someone sitting on a bench looking blankly, and then you see them start crying and screaming. After a few minutes, they slump over. Sometimes you see an overworked person holding a coffee and a suitcase running to work and then they just fall over. It’s kind of sad. Sure, I’ll die in my prime; I won’t experience love, having a kid, growing old with my significant other, and seeing our grandchild. Sure, I won’t die an old man. But I don’t care. At least I’m going to die before I see myself become the villain.

My mom died two years after I was born. I don’t remember it, but my dad said that those last two years were her best. We went all around the world. We went to Disneyland, L.A, the Grand Canyon. We went to Machu Picchu, Egypt, the Amazon.

When my mom died, my dad was devastated; she was his world, and now his world was gone. He spiraled down into a dark, black hole. He tried to get out, but it was too late. The alcoholism shortened the Death Watch. When he started rehab to try and get a few days back, time snuck up on him and took him away. I was 13. I’ve lived with my aunt and uncle ever since.

When I graduated from high school in May, I was finally happy that I was done with school. Now I had one more summer to do anything I wanted. Anything.

So, I just stayed home and played video games for the rest of my life.

Nah, I’m just kidding. I only did that for a month

Now it was June 15th. I only had till November 1st to do anything I wanted.  I’ll skip the small stuff and just talk about the big things I did in the last five months.

In June, I skydived again, this time without a professional. It was perfectly fine, up until the point where my parachute wouldn’t open. Luckily it opened at the last minute and I escaped with a couple bruises. I also saw three people’s Watches run out, all at the same time. Turns out, they were looking for people that would die the same day as them.

July snuck up on me quickly, and I went to the Vans Warped Tour. I got to see my favorite bands play, like Black Veil Brides, Bullet for My Valentine, and Avenged Sevenfold. It was one of the greatest days of my life. Nothing important happened after that, but something funny happened. I was at the pool with a couple of my friends, and we tried to top the best high dive. Rush did a somersault into the pool, Mike did a cannonball with extra flail, and I (accidentally) did a belly flop. It was painful.

August rolled around, and Mike’s brother ran out of time. His death reminded me that I still had some stuff to do before, well, you know by now what I’m talking about. I started to finish my bucket list. The next thing on my list was to go to Las Vegas, Nevada, for some sightseeing. I wasn’t going to gamble or anything, but I still went inside a couple of casinos to check it out.

September comes, and so does the fall semester of college. I didn’t go because I didn’t have much time left, but some of my friends went. I was part of five going-away parties, and each going-away party made me feel so alone. In Jason’s going-away party, I felt empty.

“I don’t think I’ll see you again, man,” I said. “I may not have much time left.”

“You could visit, maybe,” Jason said. “Sometime before-” He started crying.       “-before time runs out.”

“I’ll try,” I said sadly. “I’ll try.”

October, with its creepy setting, flew in to take September’s place. I was packing my car to visit Jason when I got a phone call.

“Hello?”

“Yes, is this Marcus Tolcater?” the male voice said.

“Um, yeah. Who is this?”

“Elliot Salinas, Jason’s roommate. His-his Watch stopped.”

“What?!” I was shocked. I was about to drive to his apartment. We were going to catch up.

“He died this morning. I had to call his parents, his sister, and then you. I’m really sorry man. I only moved in two weeks ago, but he was a great guy.”

I remembered Jason saying, “Sometime before time runs out.”

It wasn’t me he was talking about.

It was him.

I broke down. I started crying right there, knowing there was some random guy I’ve never heard of until now listening to me crying. The dam had finally burst. The dam I had enforced, the dam that never spilled a leak. The dam that had been built ever since Dad died. The dam I built after I saw what Death had done to my dad, who had tortured him by taking Mom away. Who had tortured him after every failed suicide attempt, after trying to drink his way to Death’s outstretched arms, and then yanking them away. Dad thought he wasn’t going to die soon enough, so he tried to go to rehab. When Dad didn’t want to die, Death took him anyway. Death, a merciless figure. Death, who I can’t wait to see so I can punch him in the jaw. Death, who I am not afraid of.

Okay, so now that this short memoir is over, here is my will:

To Mike, I give you all my games and my setup. I’m sure you’ll make good use of them. You have the skill to go professional. Do it.

To Rush, Here’s the $500 you lent me. Thanks for caring so much about your friends, and me; you were there for me when Dad died.

To John, remember the game-winning football pass in 2016? I still have the football and the footage. I know it’s not much, but I know how much you love football, so here you go.

To Caleb, you always carry a book about astrophysics, right? I set up a meeting with Neil Degrasse Tyson on December 18th. You’re welcome.

To everyone else, take anything you want; I don’t care

Anything else I own will be distributed along my family. Thank you, everyone, for making my life so meaningful.

With lots of love,

Marcus Tolcater

I get up and look at my Watch. 00:00:00:00:03.05. Three minutes and five seconds.

I slowly walk downstairs. I’ve walked up and down these stairs for five years. This is going to be my last time.

I see my aunt and uncle, along with my friends. Aunt Jane is crying softly, and Uncle Mark is holding her. Mike, Caleb, Lisa, Rush, and many others.

I sit down, Aunt Jane on my left, Mike on my right.

I look at my Watch. 00:00:00:00:02.01. Two minutes and 1 second to go.

I take a deep breath. “Thank you all, not only for being here, but for being with me all through my life.”

“Of course we would be here, Marcus. You’re our best friend,” says Lisa.

“You are a great guy, man. I’ll never forget you,” smiles Rush.

I look at my Watch. 00:00:00:00:01.00. Just a minute left. I’m starting to tear up. I’m feeling sleepy.

“My, uh, will is on my laptop,” I choke out. “I’ll miss you guys so much.”

Aunt Jane puts her hand on my arm. “We’ll always love you, Marcus. Eliza and Jonathan would be so proud of you.”

My parents. I always remembered my parents. That’s why I feel my friends will never forget me, as I never forgot my parents.

It’s not a bad way to go; painless, like sleeping.

I don’t look at my watch to know how long I have; the clock is starting to tick in my head. Fifteen seconds. Where did the time go? Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. 12 seconds.

“I love you.”

Everyone’s eyes are watery, or maybe it’s my eyes that are watery.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. 8 seconds. Tick-tock. 7 seconds.

As much as I want to stay awake to watch the movie, I close my eyes.

I hear a voice. “Don’t sleep yet, the movies almost over! Just a few more seconds!”

Mom?

“C’mon son, wake up!”

Dad?

I open my eyes, a final time.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. 4 seconds.

“It’s almost over Marcus. Then you can sleep!”

Okay, Dad.

The movie’s about some kid in striped pajamas. I’ve watched it a million times, but don’t remember the ending.

“It’s over Marcus. It’s over son. Time to sleep.”

Tick-tock, tick-tock. 2 seconds.

I can finally sleep.

Tick-tock.

Finally…

Tick…

Sleep…