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vikingpoteto · 4 years

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Red Robin under the spotlight

Read on AO3

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Relationships: GEN. Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake

Summary: Red Robin and Red hood are basically urban legends, no one is sure they're real. That is, until there is a picture of the two of them grinning at each other on Gotham Gazette's front page.

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Tim Drake is having… a day.

Stuck in his office for the afternoon, he is praying for nightime to come soon so he can put on his suit and vent his frustration by beating up some unsuspecting criminal. He’d known being a CEO wasn’t particularly fun, but he didn’t expect the board of directors to be babies for so long.

He skims his proposal for what feels like the hundredth time unsure of how to make it clearer that that is the best course of action for their investments. The fact that he is only 18 should not trump his very solid, data-based arguments.

So he’s already in a bad mood and praying for a distraction when his office door swings open and Tam Fox storms in.

“Timothy!” she shouts.

He feels like he's about to learn he should be careful with what he wishes.

“Hey, Tam, I missed you too?” He tries.

Behind her, his secretary makes a helpless gesture as if trying to communicate she tried to stop Tam. Tim gives the woman a tired smile and makes a dismissive gesture.

Ignoring that, Tam slams the door closed and repeats for emphasis: “Timothy.” She pushes an iPad into Tim’s chest. “What is the meaning of this?”

Raising an eyebrow, he takes the iPad and looks at the screen, noticing he’s staring at a Gotham Gazette article and… Tim’s heart stops.

The headline screaming at his face says RED DYNAMIC DUO? by Vicki Vale and beneath it…

“Oh god,” Tim whimpers.

Beneath the headline there’s a picture of him and the Red Hood.

Or, well, Red Robin and Red Hood. They’re sitting on the fire escape of one of the abandoned buildings in Jason’s territory and both are seemingly at ease. Too at ease. There are two BatBurger bags at their side and their fingers are intertwined. Red Robin is staring at their joined hands with a wide smile. Fucking hell. Tim always makes a point of never smiling in front of anyone when he’s in his suit, he has a reputation to protect. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that Red Hood isn’t wearing his helmet, because it emans his open grin is visible as well - and thank god Jason has the habit of wearing a domino under his helmet.

Who the hell took that picture? How the hell did they go unnoticed by both Tim and Jason?

He then starts reading the article, every word feeling like a punch to the gut.

Gotham City has seen its share of vigilantes over the years and, unlike public figures such as Superman, they prefer to keep to themselves, making many people wonder whether they’re even human. As a shot captured by an amateur photographer that chose to remain anonymous, we find out at least a pair of the many Gotham “heroes” are closer to us than we thought.

The vigilante known as Red Robin Gotham's patheon of heroes a couple of months ago and little is known about him. He’s been seen working with the likes of Batman, Robin and even Batgirl, making us all think he’s one of the good guys. It seems like Red Robin’s circle of friendships doesn’t include only Justice League members, though.

The Red Hood, the man so tenderly smiling at Red Robin, is a notorious mob boss whose territory's size, GCPD especulates, rivals Black Mask’s. Red Hood wanders between both criminal activities and a violent brand of justice and, while he's been seen working side-by-side with heroes like Nightwing, a hero that since has only been seen in Bludhaven, no one can claim to have seen the Red Hood so comfortable around one of the bats of Gotham

The two young men were pictured in a tender moment. Could this mean that Red Robin is straying towards villany? Is the Red Hood is considering changing his ways? Or, perhaps, are we facing a pair of starcrossed lovers, separated by different set of morals, but still unable to stay away from one another?

Tim makes an inhumane sound. The words star crossed lovers jump from the screen, burning his eyes and making him wish he was going over a dumb business proposal still.

“Well?” Tam demands. “What is that, Tim?”

“I don’t know, Tam,” he answers, his voice weak. “What on earth- How the hell… Oh, god .”

“Why were you hanging out with the Red Hood?”

“Stakeout,” Tim says simply.

“Why were you on a stakeout with the freaking Red Hood?”

At that, Tim recovers enough to feel a bit miffed. That’s the same tone she had last year when Tim was working with assassins and he gets offended on his brother’s behalf. Even if, you know, said brother had also been somewhat related to the assassins in question. In the past.

“Hey, Hood is not as bad as the news make him look. Sure, he’s not exactly clean, but he’s a valuable undercover agent and…”

Tam makes sounds of a woman whose white Valentino bag had liquid lipstick spilled in. “Does that mean you are dating the Red Hood?”

“What? NO!”

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. God, what a mess.

“He’s my brother,” he says.

Tam looks like she goes through the 7 stages of grief in a very short time and, honestly, Tim feels for her. He likes Tam a lot. She is smart and strong and the poor girl has had to deal with so much since she and Tim became friends.

“Are you telling me… that Dick Grayson…”

“No, Dick’s not the Red Hood.”

She stares at the picture again and then at him. “This isn’t Duke or Damian, Tim.”

“You’re right. It’s a long story. I can’t tell you, though. I trust you but Hood’s identity isn’t my secret to share.”

Tam closes her eyes and breathes in and out slowly. After all the crap she had to deal as one of Red Robin’s friends, a stranged brother that happened to be a crime lord (an anti-hero, really) wasn’t that far fetched. She didn’t know much about the Drakes because Tim didn’t talked about them, so, for all she knows, Red Hood could be Jack’s or Janet’s bastard child. Although Tim can figure her theories, he doesn’t try to explain anything. Whatever she works out is better than letting her know Red Hood is Bruce Wayne’s son brought back from the dead.

“Fine. You’re not dating a criminal. You’re a criminal’s brother.”

“I mean… if you think about it, I’m a criminal too.” He smiles sheepishly under her glare. “Being a vigilante isn’t exactly something I can put on my resume.”

Shaking her head, Tam checks the picture again. “What were you even doing? Because it looks like you’re holding hands and finding it hilarious.”

“We… hm. We were thumb wrestling.”

She stares at him, her expression empty of any emotion. Tim cringes.

“Look, not everything is death traps and high risks, alright? Sometimes stakeouts get boring!”

“You were laughing your head off because you were having a thumb war with the Red Hood,” Tam deadpans.

“Hm. Actually the thumb war wasn't that funny, that was him cheating. I was winning so he kept talking shit about Dick’s past to make me laugh and lose focus.”

Tam finally sits down and she looks at ceiling as if she’s considering all the life decisions that lead her to this moment. At this point, Tim knows she’s just being dramatic, because knowing Red Hood cheats at thumb war for certain isn’t more shocking than the time she met Tim.

“The thumb was isn’t important now, though,” Tim says. “ This is a huge problem. Hood’s gonna be in hot water if people think he’s friends with a hero.”

He refuses to use the word lovers, because ew. Sure they’re not related by blood, but… ew. Tim sees him as a brother, damn it.

“Well, I’m afraid there’s not a lot we can do now,” Tam says apologetically. “The article’s been up since this morning. Even if we have them take it down, it’s already out there. #RedDynamicDuo is trending on Twitter.”

Oof. That’s… oof.

Tim intertwines his fingers and glares at the tablet in front of him as if waiting for the puzzle to solve itself. He knows it won’t, so it’s up to him to fix this. His burnt out brain suggests calling Bart and asking him to run back in time and stop that cursed thumb war. His practical brain has half a mind to call Oracle and see how much online evidence she can get rid of. He has to contact Gotham Gazette and threaten them into not putting vigilante’s identities at risk by posting such pictures, although he doesn’t hold high hopes for that course of action. What he needs now is a bigger scandal, although he fails to think of something more dramatic than Red Robin and Red Hood being buddies…

Right as he’s starting to feel a bit forlorn, his phone buzzes on the table. A picture of Dick smiling flashes on the screen and Tim allows himself to perk up for a moment. Dick for sure will be able to help him.

“Dick!” He picks up, full of hope.

Tim is greeted with cackling. Dick’s cackling.

He groans. “Richard.”

“AHAHAHAHA O-oh god, you… aha... b-baby bird, you… HAHAHAHA--”

Tim isn’t paid enough for this. He hangs up.

“Can you help me with this?” He asks.

“Don’t I always?” Tam quirks an eyebrow.

Smiling tiredly, he stands. “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. Can you take care of… you know… day job stuff?”

“I guess. Good luck with your… your family thing.”

THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert: *insert game of thrones joke here*

In the hood: Go fuck yourself, Stephanie

spoiler alert: not judging u bro he hella cute

WonderWing: steph please

cassandra cain-wayne: ?

send me a Signal: they’re talking about that picture of Hood and Red holding hands cass

yumm: were NOT holding hands

cassandra cain-wayne: I print that picture.

In the hood: W H Y ! ?

cassandra cain-wayne: cute :)

spoiler alert: she right and she should say it

In the hood: Steph, turn on your location. I just want to talk.

yumm: stephanie I hv pics of u sleep drooling on me from that that 1 patrol dnt test me

spoiler alert: shut up red dynamic duo

Tim hates the internet.

Barbara is kindly trying her best to muffle the online reaction, but there is only so much she can do without outright deleting people’s tweets. Tim knows for a fact that that would only cause a bigger uproar, so he asks her to settle for burying mentions of them under a fake algorithm.

He has yet to think of gossip hot enough to top the rumors, but he doesn’t think even his fake engagement to Tam last year received so much attention. A glimpse into Gotham’s elusive heroes’ personal lives was too exciting to let go quickly.

When he walks into his apartment, he wants nothing but to take a hot shower and a nap. He knows he can’t, though.

As well as he knows he isn’t alone.

He plays it cool, walking in as though he doesn’t notice the person in the shadows. He drops his keys and phone on the nearest table as he would normally and turns around too abruptly to allow a reaction, his fist connecting to… someone’s palm.

“Nice reflexes, Baby Bird,” Jason says, quirking an eyebrow as though mildly impressed.

Tim groans. “Would it kill you to use the door?”

“It might, better not risk it.”

“It shaves five years of my life span every time I come home and you’re waiting in the shadows. Of all of Bruce’s habits to pick up…”

Jason simply shrugs. “So… what’s up, honey? ”

“Ew, don’t say that,” Tim groans.

Keeping his nonchalant facade, Jason lets himself fall into Tim’s couch as though he belongs there. Tim heads to his room to change into more humane clothes.

“I’m assuming Dickie shared the news already,” Jason says.

“He couldn’t stop laughing long enough to say anything,” Tim replies from his closet. “Tam was kind enough to show me, though.”

“Tam… is that your ex-fiancée? Hmm… The news sure keep shipping you with everyone, speaking of which.”

Grumbling the whole time, Tim puts on a purple hoodie he might or might not have stolen from Stephanie and that he wears whenever he’s stressed. He wears that hoodie a lot. Heading back to the living room barefoot and feeling slightly more prepared to deal with the situation, he says:

“I’m assuming you aren’t here just to hang out.”

Jason gives him an unimpressed look. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Tim blinks once. Twice. No, it can’t be that… “ Everyone thinks you’re a rat.”

“Bingo.”

And this situation keeps getting better and better. Red Hood is feared enough that he can get away with hanging out with the goody two shoes every now and again and keep his rep. Being caught eating burgers and giggling with a hero was a whole new animal.

They have to assume Hood’s safe houses were compromised as well. The point of having many hideouts is that you’re never left with nowhere to go, but even Jason wasn’t prepared to have everyone in his territory turn on him. That and they all had been raised and trained to be paranoid. It was too big of a risk to assume he’d be safe in a known place.

“Crap,” Tim mutters.

“I considered ditching Gotham and spending some time with Roy instead…”

“But that would be as good as a confession. You’d never gain their respect again,” Tim completes for him.

Jason nods.

The only silver-lining about this situation is that this is Jason. Granted he isn’t too angry to think, Jason is practical and willing to do what’s needed, even if it’s annoying or if it makes him uncomfortable. Tim likes working with him because of that.

“You know where the extra blankets are,” Tim says.

Because, of course, if Jason can’t be at his own place and he can’t be with Roy and Kory, he’d crash Tim’s place. The manor isn’t really an option for him and Tim doesn’t blame him for that.

“The plan of action?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure out.”

Jason sighs. “I’m going to punch something in your Red Robin cave.”

“Be my guest.”

Damage control is necessary, of course, especially for Red Hood’s safety, but there is something bothering Tim more. He opens the news and studies the picture. It’s a damn good shot, almost looks like it was staged. He closes his eyes and tries to remember that night. In order to take that picture, the photographer would have to be in of of the buildings across the street and they’d have to be good enough to go unnoticed not by one, but by two highly trained vigilantes, one of which had his senses enhanced by the Lazarus pit.

He messages Babs quickly for more info on whoever sent those pictures to the news, but not even Oracle had managed to track them yet. It sounds like the photographer walked into Vicki Vale on the street and handed her the picture, because there was no digital footprint of such interaction.

Without any more ideas, he puts on his suit and heads out, glad that is patrol night. Perhaps punching criminals will give him some clarity.

Tim is nowhere near closing any of his cases and Gotham is unusually quiet because of course the criminals would choose tonight of all nights to be chill. The night Tim needs a crime. That’s why he’s more than a little thankful when a crackling sound in his comm lets him know someone’s trying to send him a message.

“Hey, hot stuff,” a familiar voice calls, “I have an underground gambling den to dismantle tonight, you want in?”

Red Robin smiles. “Is that a date?”

“I don’t know, is it? I don’t want Red Hood coming after me.”

“Batgirl.”

She laughs shamelessly. He hopes Barbara isn’t listening. Although the alternative would be Wendy listening, and he doesn’t know which one would be worse. Steph’s sense of humor isn’t for everyone and while, Tim doesn’t mind their inside jokes and got used to her eternal flirting, he feels as though those should remain between the two of them only.

“I’m serious, though,” Steph continues. “I don’t think backup is needed per se, but I miss fighting criminals with you. Plus I figured you could use a punching bag or two.”

He grins. He just really loves Steph.

“Send me the details. I’ll meet you there.”

Turns out it’s a pretty standard burst for them. Gambling den covering a massive drug operation, because this is Gotham. Why wouldn’t they use an illegal thing to cover another more illegal thing? That sounded like a great idea.

He finds Batgirl waiting for him on top of a building. She simply smiles and points at the shady alley down the street.

“Gentlemen first?” she offers.

“It’s your case.”

With a nod, she dives towards the ground and Red Robin follows her closely, frowning in confusion when she doesn’t dropkicks any windows. Instead, she casually strolls towards the back of the alley where a suspicious metal door that could easily go unnoticed if it didn’t scream CRIMINAL ACTIVITY HERE. Batgirl knocks at the door and gestures at Red Robin to stay away.

A slit on the door slides open and a confused crook tries unsuccessfully to see who’s there. With both vigilantes’ out of his line of sight, the poor bastard has no option other than opening the door to check. Batgirl swiftly pulls him into a headlock as soon as he walks into view and Red Robin’s grinning face is the last thing the man sees before the pressured applied makes him pass out.

Red Robin doesn’t figure what Steph’s plan is until she cuffs the unconscious bouncer and stands straight, offering her arm.

“You’re so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes, even as he takes it.

“Shush, you think I’m awesome.”

That he does. Especially when the two of them climb down into the basement turned illegal cassino with their arms locked as if they’re a couple. It’s cartoonishly comic how long it takes everyone to realize Red Robin and Batgirl are standing on the entrance, looking around at the 50 different illegal activities happening at once.

Not as comic as when Batgirl shouts over the music: “Please, don’t stop on our account!”

The gamblers sober enough to freeze in horror.

“Before we start, anyone wants to just give themselves in?” Red Robin offers.

That’s when guns start firing and all hell breaks loose.

The night ends, as it would, with Batgirl and Red Robin walking home a trio of strippers. The women weren’t to blame that their work environment was less than ideal and they certainly didn’t need to be left tied up waiting for the GCPD like the mobsters Steph and Tim beat up tonight.

Red Robin wanted to just watch them from the top ot the buildings and make sure they got home safe, but Batgirl insisted they walked alongside the women. Their costumes don’t look completely out of place near them and Red Robin doesn’t know what to think of that.

For a second, he thinks he hears someone behind them. Everytime he turns around, he finds nothing but an empty alley, so he shrugs if off as him getting hit tooo many times.

While Batgirl excitedly chats with two of the women about their future employment - one of them is in this line of work just to get by, the other genuinely enjoys sensual dancing as a form of art but wishes she could work somewhere better - when the third of them discreetly detaches herself from the group to walk closer to Red Robin.

She still looks tense and guarded, her arms tightly wrapped around herself and Tim wishes he had a jacket to offer her. The way she sideeyes him says she wants to say something, but is too nervous to start. Not wanting to betray his persona, he simply waits, trying to appear as non threatening as possible.

“Thanks a lot for savin’ us, Red Robin,” the woman says finally. “I can’t believe I’m meetin’ ya.”

He gives her a small smile. “I’m just glad you’re safe, ma’am, there’s no need to thank me.”

“I just wanted ta say… I get ya.”

Red Robin tilts his head to the side. “Ma’am?”

“The thing with your man. Must ta’ be hard dating the Red Hood. I know how it is.”

He was… He was getting sympathy from a stripper with bad taste in men.

“There’s nothing gross between Hood and I!” He lets out before he can help himself, his voice a little louder than intended.

The other women startle at his outburst and turn to him, wary. One of them reaches for what is clearly a pocket knife that she thinks is cleverly hidden in her bra.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, ma’am, just… Batgirl, I believe you’ve got things from here. I’m taking off.”

She gives him a concerned look, but ultimately nods. Under Batgirl’s and the three strippers perplexed glares, Red Robin grapples his way out of there.

Tim wakes up around noon feeling as though he was hit by a truck, as he does when he sleeps longer than three hours a night. He slowly sits up and looks around his messy room, wondering how come he’s feeling so miserable. The smell of food stirs him into some sort of alertness.

Right. He’s not home alone today.

Yawning and scratching his belly, he forces himself to get out of bed. He know that the longer he stays the more likely he is to slip into a coma, his body demanding compensation for years of sleep deprivation. Tim drags his feet towards his kitchen where he finds one of Gotham’s most dangerous vigilantes humming to himself as he makes breakfast. Or Lunch. Brunch. Whatever.

“And here I thought I was the family’s zombie,” Jason says in lieu of good morning.

Tim grumbles something about his brother being too comfortable in Tim’s kitchen, but he doesn’t dare complain. Jason is probably the only person that uses Tim’s stove and one of the perks of having him over is that he does cook. A lot.

The one disadvantage about having Jason over is…

A knife lodges itself on the counter in front of Tim when he tries to reach for the coffee pot. Tim didn’t even see him throwing it. He glares at his brother.

“Food first. Coffee after,” Jason says.

“I’m too nauseous to eat, I just woke up.”

Again without breaking eye contact with the pot he’s stirring, Jason blindly reaches for a package of crackers casually left on the counter and hands it to Tim.

Tim makes sure to give him his best rebellious teenager glare before grabbing the stupid crackers and sitting down to eat them. Stupid Jason with his stupid boredom. Tim had forgotten Jason goes into full mom mode when he has nothing else to do and that he’s particularly obnoxious about Tim’s eating habits.

“I consume the necessary calories,” Tim mumbles over his cracker.

“Okay, Damian.”

Tim throws a cracker at him. Jason easily dodges without looking, which is kind of annoying.

After that, the two brothers fall into comfortable silence. Tim knows Jason wants to talk about their plan of action, but he knows Tim is nowhere near awake enough to hold a conversation. Besides, Jason doesn’t like being bothered while he’s cooking anyway.

By the time the food is ready, the crackers worked their magic and Tim no longer feels as though his stomach is ready to puke out its emptiness. He grabs dishes he hadn’t used in quite a while and sets the table for the two of them. The brothers start eating in silence, Tim slowly recovering his sense of self - no wonder he goes for so long without sleeping, he takes too long to reboot when he does - and Jason mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

Then something on the small screen makes Jason choke on his food.

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Hm… Timmy, you may wanna take a look at this.”

“What?” Tim takes Jason’s phone. “Oh, for fuck’s sake !”

It’s another news article. The picture is fortunately less detailed, just a red and black silhouette against Gotham’s sky that may or may not be Red Robin standing over one of the many gargoyles. The text, however.

RED ROBIN MAKES HOMOPHOBIC REMARK AND SHOCKS ADMIRER

Gotham’s newest vigilante busted an underground gambling den last night. Despite his heroic deed, his words after the fact were less than commendable. When questioned about his relationship with the Red Hood by one of the women he rescued, the hero allegedly said that there’s “Nothing gross between him and Hood.”

“Personally, I was shocked,” said the woman in question, Krystal Math, 25 years old. “Red Robin became my favorite hero when I heard he also has a dead-beat boyfriend. I was starting to finally see myself in one of those bats, you know? I couldn’t believe when he said being gay is gross. Never meet your heroes, I guess.”

THE BIRDNEST

WonderWing sent a screenshot.

WonderWing: red robin is cancelled for homophobia, pass it on

Robin: Good. It’s about time we rid ourselves of him.

Cassandra Cain: Little brother does not approve gay rights? :(

yumm: im literally bisexual

spoiler alert: he avoiding the question

in the hood: #redrobinisoverparty

yumm: I hate this fucking family

Tim hasn’t stopped pacing around the room since he read the most recent article. Those were his exact words by the letter, meaning someone had been listening. He doubts Krystal, bless her heart, was the one going to the news with his “homophobic remark”.

Having basically given up on getting Tim to calm down, Jason is the one to get the porch door open for Steph. Because apparently she’s been learning from Jason and acquired his hatred for front doors. Steph knows how Tim gets, so she promptly ignores him and gets comfortable on the reading chair to check the article fully.

“This is nuts,” Steph says. “We were being careful. I made sure of it.”

Tim believes her. Batman and Robin are basically public figures at this point, even if they don’t interact with civilians if they can help it. Red Robin and the Signal were heard of and spotted around the city, but not a lot of people really know of them. Red Hood was basically a urban legend until recently and Black Bat sill is. Batgirl, however, is known for being a people hero.

She was, back in Barbara’s time, stopped for a bit with Cass, but Steph embraced the old tradition whole heartedly. She would walk people home late at night to make sure they were safe, wave at little girls in the bus, talk to kidnapping victims until they were under heavy blankets handed by the police. Steph was extroverted and charming and she used that fully as Batgirl like she never could as Spoiler. That being said, she and Barbara always made a point to avoid pictures, security cameras and whatnot. If there was a hero good at hanging with civilians while unnoticed by the media, that hero was Stephanie Brown.

Tim’s phone is buzzing. He ignores it in favor of stomping around some more.

“Well, something must have slipped your watchful eye,” Jason says, shrugging.

Steph glares at him. “Mine, perhaps, but are you implying someone went unnoticed by Oracle?”

“Well, someone obviously did,” Tim snaps, tossing his phone at the couch in frustration. “What happened after I left, Steph?”

“Nothing,” she says honestly. “I walked the ladies home. Krystal was a bit miffed but she didn’t say anything, so I thought she was just a shipper upset that her OTP wasn’t canon.”

“You think she went to the news after?” Jason suggests.

Steph frowns. “Why would she? She didn’t look like she had media connections exactly.”

Tim’s phone, that bounced off the couch and fell with a soft thud on the carpet, continues to explode with texts. He sighs and stops to pick it up and finally answer them.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Jason argues. Then turns to Tim: “You should look into her. I’m gonna check other possible sources.”

“Hm-hum, just a second,” Tim mumbles, typing furiously. “Damian is being a nightmare and asking for help on a case.”

“Wack. Are you telling him to solve his own cases instead of using your intell to impress Bruce?”

Tim glares at Jason.

“Really? C’mon, Timmy, we’ve been over this.”

Stephanie gives them a puzzled look. “You’ve been over… Dami being a nightmare?”

“Jason says that whenever someone is mean to me I should reply by attacking them where hurts the most,” Tim explains.

“He knows all of our weaknesses and he has the quickest thinking,” Jason says, frustrated. “The least he should do is stand up for himself with that knowledge!”

"Kinda rich coming from the guy that tried to kill him," Steph says, quirking an eyebrow.

"Steph," Tim scowls. "He didn't know me then and the pit rage--"

"Timmy," Jason cuts him off.

Tim sighs. "Besides now I could off him in 20 different ways if he tried any of that shit again. There. Happy, Jason?"

"That's my baby brother."

Steph smiles at him. “You know what? You’re onto something, Jaybird.”

Tim interrupts his walk of worry again to smile a bit. Something about Stephanie and Jason agreeing on something is immensely satisfying.

Still, on the matter at hand, Tim says, “If I go off on Damian, Dick’s gonna get mad…”

“Then go off on Dick as well,” Steph promptly suggests.

Jason high-fives her. “Atta girl. Besides if Dick doesn’t want us to tell Damian to fuck off he has to work harder on teaching him not to be a little shit. Everyone here has a tragic backstory here and we all know Damian goes too far sometimes.”

Tim shakes his head again. “Regardless, Damian’s case will have to wait. We’re gonna go with your plan, Jay. And Steph…”

“Wow, no way, José. I’m just here as an eyewitness. I don’t want to get involved with homophobes and end up shipped with Jason or some shit.”

Tim glares at her. “I was going to offer you some of our leftovers, but since you’re not interested, that’s fine.”

While Jason laughs and Steph protests, he proceeds to look for his laptop, hoping this isn’t going to be a dead end.

“This is a dead end,” Tim declares.

From what he can find, Krystal wasn’t even paid for her impromptu interview. Apparently Vicki Vale showed up at her place to confirm the veracity of a story that she heard God knows where.

Dick is in Bludhaven, but he insisted on facetiming them when he realized his brothers were struggling, even if he mostly just made worried faces from Tim’s phone as Tim, Jason and Steph exchanged notes. As a rule of thumb, Tim doesn’t involve his siblings in his cases since he became Red Robin, but this is definitely an all hands on deck situation. Tim isn’t desperate enough to get Bruce involved, but he’s getting there. Especially when Dick says:

“Babs couldn’t find anything in Vicki’s email or phone. She’s double checking all of Vicki's sources, but so far it’s been no good.”

“We could always get Vale and hang her by the ankles on top of some building until she talks,” Jason suggests. "Let's go old school on her."

Everyone ignores Jason. Tim stands for another mug of coffee. Dick lets out a frustrated sigh. Steph keeps watching all of them from the couch, where she’s been lying down and tossing gummy bears into her mouth for the past half-hour.

When no one acknowledges him, Jason sighs and stands. “Alright, this’ been fun. I’m going to patrol.”

Dick frowns. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“He can’t vanish,” Steph says. “One thing is crashing Tim’s place to make sure he won’t get ambushed in his down time. If Red Hood goes AWOL he might as well admit he’s working with the Batclan.”

Jason nods. “If I don’t do my job, next thing I know Black Mask takes over my stuff.”

“Can’t have Black Mask taking over his stuff,” Steph agrees.

Dick glances at Tim as though expecting him to disagree with the plan. Tim lets out a defeated sigh. “He’s right. Just… make sure to find a safe place to change into your gear so no one sees you. If there are any safe places, that is…”

Jason rolls his eyes. Tim knows he’s going full Robbie Downer mode, as Jason likes to call it, but he can’t help it. It’s not often that he finds himself without any ideas. He should have been able to solve this already. Since nothing comes to mind, he starts imagining unrealistic scenarios in hopes that they’ll give him some insight outside of the box. AU in which I was never shipped with my brother by some nosey reporter. AU in which I went out Damian instead of Jason that night.

Tim groans in frustration. “Why did it have to be Jason? We could get away with me having a thumb war with literally anyone. If it was Batman out there, this wouldn’t be that much of a problem.”

“Maybe if you hung out with all your brothers and not just Jason there wouldn’t be as many rumors about you and Red Hood,” Dick mumbles.

Tim glares at the phone.

“Really? You wanna go there? You wanna talk favoritism, Richard? Because you’ve been favoring Damian for-freaking-ever.”

“Drag him!” Jason cheers.

“Tim,” Dick says, looking genuinely upset, “I love all-”

“Save it,” Steph cuts in. “We all have favorites Dick, there is no use denying it.”

Because Dick’s eyebrows are knitted in confusion, Tim clarifies: “Bruce’s favorite is Cass, yours is Damian, Jason’s is… I don’t know, his guns. Steph is my favorite, unfortunately. Steph’s favorite is Cass, Cass’ favorite is Duke, Duke doesn’t have favorites, he’s the only good person in this family, and Damian’s is also you.”

Steph nods. “You did it! You broke the Bat Family dynamics to its bare essentials!”

“And that is why Tim is my favorite. After my guns,” Jason adds.

“Jason, we do not rate our siblings.”

“That’s why you’re in last place, Dick.”

Ignoring Dick’s enraged noises, Tim sets his mug aside. “I’m going patrolling, even if today isn't my turn. Solo this time. Hopefully Red Hood and Red Robin being separate out there will help the rumors die down a bit.”

No one has a better idea - Tim’s least favorite sentence - so that’s what they do.

It’s another infuriatingly quiet night.

Red Robin stops a couple of muggings, scares the crap out of some drug dealers. At some point, he considers contacting Poison Ivy and asking if she has any corrupt CEO she wants help with. He could, you know. It’d stop Ivy from killing someone and on his last run with Harley Quinn she did let slip that Tim was Ivy’s favorite Robin.

He almost falls mid swing at the memory, thinking he might be onto something, but then he remembers Harley hadn’t particularly recognized Red Robin as the third Robin. She was just ranting about how the new tiny Robin had no sense of humor and Ivy missed the last one. Besides of course Harley Quinn wasn’t feeding Vicki Vale some BatFanfic. Tim’s brain must be really burnt out if that’s the best hot take it can come up with.

It’s almost 3am and he’s taking a pair of muggers that can’t be much older than Tim to the police. He’s about ready to call if a night when someone shouts:

“Red Robin!”

He looks on instinct and his stomach drops when he sees Vicki Vale running towards him. Crap.

“Red Robin, can I get a statement?”

He keeps walking. He’s just one dirty alley away from GCPD, otherwise he’d just tie the stupid muggers to his back and would use his grappling hook to get out of the situation, grapple safety be damned. The muggers gingerly attempt to hide their faces as the reporter runs to them swinging a digital recorder. Vicki acts as though she can’t see them.

“Red Robin, what do you have to say about the rumors of your relationship with the Red Hood?”

The rumors you created? Red Robin quickens his pace and the muggers trip over themselves. He stares straight ahead, pretending he doesn’t notice the woman basically running in heels to keep up with him.

“Are you ashamed of it? Is it because he’s a criminal or because he’s a man?”

Red Robin wonders if the muggers would walk the rest of the way and turn themselves in if he asked nicely.

“Don’t bother, lady,” one of the muggers says. “He’s a nasty bigot.”

The other mugger nods and the two of them are wearing matching pouty expressions. Now Tim just feels bad. He didn’t become a hero for the recognition and he’s not in the business of doing PSAs like Superman, but he doesn’t want the strange socially woke criminal youth of Gotham to think they’re being arrested by a homophobe.

“I have no problem with two men in a relationship, I’m bisexual,” he tells the muggers. “Still, I’m not dating Red Hood. Just because I’m bi it doesn’t mean I’m dating every male vigilante I run into.”

At that, the two crooks look mildly surprised and suddenly they seem to feel a bit better about being arrested. Would you look at that.

Red Robin delivers them to the police, painfully aware that Vicki Vale is nowhere to be found anymore. He feels like he’s going to pay dearly for being too prideful to let himself be mistaken for a heterosexual person.

Lo and behold, Twitter, on that very same morning.

@Gotham_Gazette:

Red Robin hints that he might be bisexual. “No, I’m not dating the Red Hood, just because I’m bi it doesn’t mean I’m dating every male vigilante,” said the hero on the rumors about his relationship.

@dgraysonman hints??? he literally said he’s bi smh

@stephssss wow only the male vigilantes? biphobic. let red robin date batgirl too

@babsgeez be gay do crime, be bi serve justice

@thomascommaduke no cops at pride, only Red Robin using a bi flag as cape.

“Timmy…” Jason starts.

“Don’t. Just leave me alone to die.”

“That’s fair, have a nice day.”

At this point, Tim is surprised Bruce hasn’t intervened. As unaware of social media as Bruce can be, he’s always on the look for anything that might compromise their secret identities. Tim pulls two all-nighters in a row doing detective work and still makes no progress on his search for the person that sent Vicki that picture and overheard his conversation with Krystal. He fully expects Batman to jump him on his next patrol and give him a lecture.

When he comments that to Jason, he gets a confused look in response.

“You didn’t get a lecture? Bruce was the one that told me first. I had to hear about being careless for 20 minutes before I got home and could take off my comm.”

Tim frowns in confusion. Bruce had talked to him once or twice after the news got out and he didn’t comment anything on it.

“That’s Batman’s psychological profiling,” someone suggests.

Tim almost jumps out of his skin when Steph casually walks into the living room with a bowl of chips.

“What are you doing here? And are those my clothes?”

Steph shrugs in the sweater that clearly doesn’t belong to her. “Jason and I are doing movie night.”

“Movie night,” Jason mocks. “She’s been here for the past two days. Did you seriously not notice, Tim?”

Tim’s jaw drops.

Steph sighs and her expression turns guilty. “Fine. My mom is out of town for the week and Jason is a better cook than I am. Is it a crime to bum off your ex-boyfriend and his bizarrely talented in the kitchen brother?”

Before Tim can say anything, Jason interrupts: “What were you saying about Batman, Steph?”

She heads to the couch and starts looking for the remote, her feet propped on the coffee table. “B knows Jay will just shrug it off and deal with the consequences, hence the need of a lecture. If he annoys Jason, he’ll stop and reflect on it, even if out of rage. He knows Tim’s already overthinking and working his butt off to fix it, so he doesn’t want to add any pressure.”

Both Jason and Tim stand in dumbfounded silence. Since when does Steph know Bruce so well?

She raises her gaze when the quietness stretches and quirks an eyebrow at them. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Hm. No. That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing,” Jason admits, if a big begrudgingly. “That’s annoying though.”

Steph simply makes a dismissive gesture and pats the sit beside her. “Tim, you need a break. Wanna join us?”

Tim hesitates. On one hand, the fact that Bruce trusts him that much is a tad touching… and knowing it makes him feel he has to solve this as soon as possible. On another… it’s kind of annoying that Bruce knows him so well and yet doesn’t think about offering any assistance. Tim is not stubborn enough to refuse a helping hand when he’s on a pinch.

“You’re not going to solve anything if you’re hallucinating from sleep deprivation, Timbers,” Jason points. “Besides we’re watching Avatar.”

“Fine,” Tim says.

If for nothing else, just to prove to Bruce that he’s not an overworker and he can slack off in the absence of a parental figure.

Tim falls asleep in the middle of the second episode. Steph and Jason vow to take him to bed once they’re sure he’s completely out, but they only last until the end of the first season. The three sleep soundly on the couch for good eight hours and regret dearly when they wake up with necks too sore to fight crime for at least a day.

Consequences. They always come.

Almost a week goes by in which the rumors are but an annoyance to Jason and a source of stress to Tim - but almost anything can stress Tim if he tries hard enough, so that’s not saying anything. Jason is still staying at Tim’s, but he’s considering going back to his own place when they go for three days with no new article and nothing unusual has happened.

Until it does.

It’ a rainy night Tim is going over reports for the next WE meeting when he hears a noise coming from the balcony. His stomach gives a familiar twist when he recognizes Batgirl hunched over the weight of one Red Hood.

He rushes to her aid, already feeling nauseous. There’s no blood in sight but whatever happened must be serious if Jason is willing to let Batgirl give him a piggyback ride. Tim lets them drip water all over the floor and, in his panic, has half a mind to appreciate that Batgirl’s boots have enough traction that she doesn’t slip.

“What on Earth…”

“The most ridiculous thing,” Steph bables as she and Tim drag a very dizzy Jason to the couch. She then starts ranting so fast Bart Allen would be proud. “He was doing his thing as usual, but some of his people turned on him and there was an ambush and so many flipping people against one poor Hood and good god that guy shot his helmet at point-blank which, damn , that was so stupid, of course the freaking helmet is bullet proof, it just ricocheted and…”

“Steph, calm down,” Tim interrupts. “Jason, can you report?”

When he gingerly attempts to take off his helmet, Steph takes over and undoes the safety measures before carefully removing it. There is a dent on the back part where he had been presumably shot.

“Hm,” Jason grunts, squinting even behind his domino mask. “Ambush. Shot. Concussion. Very concussion. Ankle hurts? Prolly not broken, tho. Also stabbed?”

Tim nods. “Steph, get the medical supplies. Where’s the stab wound, Jay?”

Jason points to his thigh and there is an improvised bandage keeping him from losing too much blood. Considering how well done it is, Tim figures it’s Steph’s work. He nods and starts checking his brother’s vitals and making sure there aren’t other serious wounds.

When she comes back with the supplies Tim needs, Steph has her cowl down and a somber expression. She turns off the lights for Jason’s sake, the only source of light left on being the lamp near where Tim is already ripping off a piece of Jason’s pants to have better access to his wound. Steph sits by Jason’s side and grabs his hand, much to Tim’s surprise. He’s too busy taking care of the stab wound to ask, but he doesn’t have to. Steph breaks the silence:

“I’m so sorry, Jason.”

Jason gives her a confused look. “You saved my ass?”

“Yes, but…” Steph sighs and turns to Tim. “Babs is with the Birds of Prey tonight, so I was on my own. I was messing around with my comm frequency when I accidentally got into Jason’s. I heard the mess and it sounded like he was in trouble so I panicked. I went to get him and… Well, if there was any doubt that he’s working with the Bats, there isn’t now. It was too obvious that I was protecting him.”

Jason squeezes her hand. “Hm. Pigs.”

“Right. Then the police arrived and instead of leaving right away I stopped to make sure Jason wasn’t bleeding to death. More than a few cops saw me patching him up.”

Tim sighs. Well, shit.

“It’s not your fault, Steph,” Tim says. “I mean… he literally wears a bat on his chest. People were bound to find out it isn’t just to stick it to Batman.”

“Is too,” Jason mumbles.

Tim ignores him. “The situation isn’t ideal, but we all prefer people knowing Red Hood is associated with the Bats than him being dead.”

“I died before.”

“We know, Jay.”

“Do not recommend.”

“We know, Jay.”

Steph fidgets a bit, still looking guilty, but ultimately nods. Tim is about to start stitching Jason’s wound closed when she says: “There’s more. You, hm, you know Renee Montoya?”

“The one valid pig,” Jason says. “I like her.”

“She was there. She helped a ton keep the other cops away from us before we could escape,” Steph says. “I think she wanted to check on Jason and…”

Tim stops moving. He knows Montoya, worked with her before and she’s a nice woman. That being said, she doesn’t have any connections to Hood. Why would she… Oh. The gay rumors. Damn wlw/mlm solidarity.

“What happened?” Tim asks, already fearing the worst.

“Hmmm, we’ll tell you, but I’m concussed, so you have to promise you won’t be mad.”

“Jason.”

Jason sighs. “Well. She asked about our relationship and… Hm. I might have told her we’re brothers.”

Tim stares at them. Steph is cringing and Jason is too out of it to care. At this point… Tim starts laughing, making the other two - even the concussed one - frown in worry.

“Aw, man,” Tim says between chuckles. “What the fuck, am I right? I’m too old for this. Who cares? Not me! Fuck it. Fuckety fuck fucky-fuck.”

“I think we broke him,” Steph whispers even as Tim resumes stitching his brother.

They went from not-sure-if-real to a freaking cop knowing about their family in the span of a week. Tomorrow #TimDrakeIsRedRobin could be trending on Twitter and Tim wouldn’t care. Not anymore. Let them come.Literally everyone in his friend circle is a vigilante, a hero or a criminal at this point, he doesn’t even care about endangering anyone.

It takes actually two days for it to hit the news. He’s alone in his office when Tam texts him a link to Gotham Gazette online. Judging by the lack of other words, Tim figures she’s cutting ties with him again.

The newest article has no actual pictures, but a sketch of Red Hood standing with his guns pointed at the viewer and Red Robin standing behind him, his face only partially turned. The thing looks more like superhero fanart than an official sketch, but that never stopped Vicki Vale before.

VIGILANTE FAMILY? by Vicki Vale

Red Robin, one of Gotham’s many masked vigilantes, was cause of intrigue recently. Many people noticed the hero doing his work around Red Hood’s territory, something not even Batman dares on the regular. Speculation turned into a craze of theories when both red-themed vigilantes were caught sitting on a roof sharing a meal from Batburger and many thought perhaps there was more than your regular vigilante team up.

Turns out the hero and the mob boss aren’t lovers, against popular belief. When questioned about the nature of their relationship, Red Hood snapped and confirmed one of the less popular theories: the two men are, in fact, related. “Red is right and he should say it,” said Red Hood to a bewildered policewoman. “Of course he’d say it’s [REDACTED] gross, he’s my little brother.” When asked about the conversation overheard by our reporter, the policewoman in question refused to give any more details and requested to remain anonymous.

It’s hard to be sure how such development came to be. The Red Hood has been active in Gotham for years as a mob boss and, more recently, a vigilante and ally to Gotham’s bats. While Red Robin is a newer vigilante, could it be that he was trained by the Red Hood? And how do the two brothers fit with Gotham’s oldest vigilantes? Unlike his older counterpart, Red Robin has been often spotted working side-by-side with the likes of Batgirl and Robin, making some question whether Red Robin is distancing himself from his criminal brother. However, sources spotted Hood being aided by Batgirl more recently. Could it be that his former sidekick is bringing Red Hood closer to the side of justice? More on the Red Twins as the story develops.

THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert: RED TWINS

WonderWing: R E D T W I N S

send me a Signal: ~ * R E D T W I N S * ~

in the hood: uhhhh my bad?

yumm: dis is great

yumm: now im hoods stranged sidekick

yumm: i fucking hate u jason.

in the hood: hey, if you didn't want to be my sidekick you should've picked another color

yumm: screw u u dont own the color red

in the hood: I was born first

yumm: u died first 2

WonderWing: Tim!

spoiler alert: oof

send me a Signal: wow Tim that was too far

in the hood: I’ve never been prouder to be your brother I taught you so well Timmy

send me a Signal: … I stand corrected. I sometimes forget everyone in this family is clinically insane

“Hey Tim. There is discourse about you and Jason now.”

Tim lets out a whimper.

“So apparently some people still ship you two. But those people are being cancelled because shipping incest is problematic.”

“Steph, are you planning on going home? I noticed you took one of my drawers.”

“There’s fanart of you two.”

“I don’t want to see it. That'll scar me for life."

“I’m DMing it to you. By the way there is civilian Red Robin fanart and for some reason they made you blonde.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I guess it’s more fun to ship people with different hair colors. Should we dye your hair?”

“Why.”

“That way when you finally hook up with Co-”

“Finish that sentence and I kick you out of this apartment for good.”

With the cat out of the bag, they start doing different damage control.

Red Hood is now openly working with the Bats, so Steph and Cass dismantle Hood’s former safehouses around Gotham which mostly means getting Jason’s books and bringing them to Tim’s place. Jason suggests the places should be converted into something useful for the neighborhood, such as libraries or a community center of sorts, so Tim starts working on what needs to be done by WE to make that reality. Tim also makes sure Bruce pretends not to know Jason is using a lot of money illegally acquired to getting himself new hideouts.

They dance around the topic a lot and nothing is really said until Steph brings it up. Steph, whose mother returned days ago. Steph, that definitely doesn’t want Jason to leave, because apparently she suddenly has a new favorite ex-Robin. Steph, that is currently eating homemade waffles in Tim’s kitchen, even though Tim is 83% sure she didn’t sleep over last night.

“Why doesn’t Jason just moves in?” she asks.

When neither boy replies immediately, she continues:

“I mean, it’s more practical, isn’t it? Tim’s place is already secure, he has a hero hideout downstairs and you two already work together all the damn time. Tim’s office can be converted into a room for Jason, because, let’s face it, I spend most of my free time here and Tim never uses it. I once saw him take his laptop with him to the bathroom and then return to the kitchen table instead of using the office. We wouldn’t even have to take the shelves, because Jason would fill them.”

They exchange a look.

“You know, she’s right,” Tim says. He shrugs like it’s no big deal, really.

He isn’t nervous at all while Jason stands there, his expression unreadable. It’s not like he enjoys way too much having his brother around and got way too comfortable with having a roommate and a half (if you count Steph) on the past weeks. Tim doesn’t care, he’s cool like that.

“I mean. I guess having you as a roommate beats living alone,” Jason finally says.

Tim fails to hide his grin. “We can start working in turning the office into a room this weekend.”

Jason smiles back and messes his hair.

Tim’s first theory is that Steph wants Jason off the couch so she has an official place to sleep, because apparently Jason’s cooking is that good.

His second theory is that she noticed how happy Tim is to finally share a house with family. The Wayne Manor had been home for a while, sure, but despite Alfred’s best efforts the place wasn’t the coziest. It wasn’t the same as sharing an apartment with a brother, bickering about sharing chores and openly discussing their night jobs before shifting the conversation to a video game they want to buy. Sharing actual meals and making sure one another wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch.

Tim decides to stick with his first theory, after all it’s easier for Steph to make Red Twins jokes if Jason and Tim are under the same roof.

Even without new gossip, the idea of vigilante brothers is too interesting for the general public to let go. Tim and Jason start acting mostly in the shadows and having no interaction with civilians at all and they’re still the topic of Gotham’s variety shows and online discussions from time to time.

Because they don’t slip again, Bruce has yet to bring up the subject with Tim, but the mystery remains. Who listened to all those conversations and how? Tim keeps expecting the other shoe to drop, to get a message demanding ransom for their secret identities, something, anything , but nothing happens. Nothing freaking happens and he’s never been this frustrated.

That is, until, it happens. The ultimate betrayal.

Dick’s next visit coincides with the time Cass is over for the week. Because Bruce is secretly a sap in the wrongest way, he suggests they all go patrolling together. Such great family time.

Despite their initial protests, they must all be the same kind of freak, because they all agree. They split up soon to cover more ground, but keep their comms on so it still feels they’re all in a big menacing group.

Red Robin is somewhere near the crime alley when Nightwing announces he noticed some of Two Face’s goons getting into a building. He checks his wrist pad for their locations and notices Nightwing isn’t that far from where he is. The next closest person is Red Hood.

“I’ll take care of it,” Nightwing says over the comms.

“Negative. Two Face himself might be there,” Batman intervenes. “Wait for backup. The Red Twins--” And he stops himself as though realizing what he’s saying.

“Batman!?” Red Robin gasps in a betrayed voice.

Nightwing is already having a laughter fit over the comms almost drowning the sound of Bruce’s disappointed sigh.

“I’m sorry, Red,” his father says and he even forgets to use Batman’s scary voice. “Nightwing and Batgirl have been saying it so much that-”

“Save it,” Hood groans. “And stop laughing, Jerkwing!”

The worst part is knowing that, even if he solves the mystery, the Red Twins thing is probably going to follow him to his untimely death.

Tim all but lost hope when he gets an email from Barbara. “To my favorite Red Twin” says the subject. He groans, but opens the email, because one does not simply ignore a message from Oracle. Then he almost drops his phone.

Attached there is a grainy picture of a young woman talking to Vicki Vale. The image had certainly been enhanced digitally as it’s probably from a shitty security camera, but you can still see the woman’s face clear as day. She looks like she’s handing Vicki something, her shoulders tense and her expression wary. The body of the message is, most likely, the woman’s personal info. Her name is Lisa Harris. She is 27 years old. She lives somewhat close to Jason’s territory. And, most importantly, Babs added to the end of the message:

The picture is from the night before the Red Twins article ;) Vicki didn’t talk to anyone other than her coworkers and our pal Lisa on that night.

Jason comes out of his room when Tim trips on the coffee table in his hurry to stand. “What’s up?”

Tim hands him the phone. Jason’s eyes grow wide. “I don’t care about subtlety. We’re both going after this chick.”

“Agreed.”

“Should we wait for Steph? She’s gonna be mad that we went when she’s in class.”

“Jason, Steph doesn’t live here.”

“Doesn’t she, though?”

“We’re not waiting for Steph. She’s not involved.”

“Aight, but when she’s bitching I’m gonna say I remembered her and you said no.”

They leave their bikes behind first for stealth sake, but mostly because the place they’re going isn’t that far from their place. Tim shivers at the thought of someone so dangerous living near him. He wonders what kind of information Lisa might have gathered and for how long she’d been watching them. Is she a new enemy? Perhaps a member of the league?

The shitty building she lives in doesn’t suggest that. It’s just another grimy Gotham apartment complex that didn’t age well. The place they’re looking for doesn’t have a balcony, only a useless fire escape so rusty it would probably crumble under any sign of flames. It’s a perfect hiding spot, because nothing suggests a villain lives there. It’s just a building, home to many underpaid bachelors, nothing too suspicious about it.

Red Robin reminds Hood of that before they nod to each other and split. Jason goes into the building with a ton of confidence, for such a big guy trying to go unnoticed. Tim uses his grapple to reach the right window, not trusting that fire escape for even a second.

The window is open and he finds himself looking at a place not that different from the one Jason lived before moving in with Tim. Mismatched furniture of the living suggests whoever lives there didn’t have money for fancy decor or that they don’t mind how the place looks. However, something about the place looks… well, lived in. It doesn’t look like a criminal temporary hideout, but rather someone’s place.

As he hesitates, a woman walks in. The woman of the picture, Lisa Harris. Her long blonde hair had been tied in a knot on top of her head and she’s getting ready for bed, if her oversized T-shirt and pajama pants say anything. She’s holding a bowl of cereal.

She reminds him of Steph and that causes him to hesitate for a second. What if this girl is innocent? Their evidence is circumstantial. Maybe she just happened to talk to Vicki Vale at the wrong time.

That hesitation costs him dearly. The woman appears to feel his eyes burning the back of her head. She glances at the window and their gazes meet.

Crap.

Lisa inhales sharply and drops her cereal bowl. Before he can reassure her of anything, she’s bolting for the door. He pats himself in the back for his backup plan, because just as she opens the door she runs right into Red Hood’s chest. Lisa stumbles backwards, her expression horrified.

“Knock knock?” Hood quips.

She lets out a squeak and guilt makes Tim wince. Once again he opens his mouth to tell her they’re not here to hurt her when she… vanishes.

She simply disappears right in front of their eyes.

“Shit, she’s a meta,” Hood hisses.

Red Robin’s thoughts fly a thousand miles per hour, finally making the conexions he stupidly missed for so long. Of freaking course. He was so used to dealing with a bunch of idiots in colorful costumes and assassins and whatnot he hadn’t taken in consideration that ninjas aren’t the only exceptional enemies they face. And if his theory is correct.

“She’s still here,” he says. “If I’m right, she can turn invisible. That’s how she’s been listening to private conversations.”

A soft gasp follows his statement and Hood is moving almost as fast as Red Robin’s insights. An invisible woman is still solid and her clumsy footsteps are still audible, so on the moment that follows Jason seems to embrace air.

“No!” She cries out, flashing in and out of sight for a few seconds.

“Careful,” Red Robin warns.

Hood is wearing his helmet, but Tim knows him well enough to know his brother is glaring at him as if saying duh?

Lisa tries to stomp on Hood’s feet, she squirms and grunts, but he doesn't budge. Apparently invisibility is her only power and she looks terrified.

“It’s okay!” Red Robin hurries to say. “We’re not going to hurt you!”

She turns her frantic gaze to him. Her brown eyes suddenly become watery.

Shit.

“Hood, let her go,” Red Robin says.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. You’re not going to try to escape again, are you, Lisa? We just want to ask a few questions.”

He wishes they had waited for Steph.

Lisa hesitates, paralysed, but slowly nods. Her eyes never leave Red Robin once their gazes met, not even to check whether Hood is going to let her go or not.

“Hood,” he calls again.

Groaning something about being too trusting, Jason lets her go. He is gentle about it, too, making sure to let her feet touch the floor carefully instead of simply dropping her. Regardless, as soon as she’s left to stand on her own legs, her knees give in and she drops on the floor. At that, Tim can tell even Jason is hiding guilt behind his helmet.

He shakes his head to regain focus and crouches in front of the woman. If at this point they just apologize and leave, they’ll have traumatizes this poor woman for nothing.

“Lisa Harris,” he starts. “That’s your name, right?”

She trembles when he says her name and that should have been the first red flag. He blames it on the stressful situation and moves on.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he says. He keeps his expression empty, even if he again can tell Jason is cringing at the understatement. “No one here is going to hurt you. We just want some answers. Is that alright?”

Her hands are balled tightly on her lap as though she’s making a lot of effort not to move them - perhaps to punch them, defend herself? But again she doesn’t look prone to start a fight.

“You’re him,” she whispers, her voice heavy with… something. It almost sounds like affection. “You’re really the Red Robin. In my room.”

That red flag is harder to ignore. He is about to check for other shock symptoms when Hood calls.

“Hmm… Red? Are you seeing that?”

He follows his brother’s gaze… and his chin drops. On the wall opposite to the door hangs a giant corkboard. On the corkboard, held by black and red tacks there are dozens of Red Robin pictures. Some blurry, some taken from so far that you can barely be sure it’s really Red Robin or not, the infamous picture of the thumb war (demon horns had been disturbingly scribbled on Jason on that one) and… He doesn’t have words.

“You’re my hero!” Lisa claims.

“Is he? I couldn’t tell,” Hood says.

Red Robin punches his knee, which is all he can reach from where he is, and turns his attention to the woman in front of him.

“Lisa, for how long have you been following me?”

“Since you saved me,” she says. “Well… Hm. You didn’t save me. But you stopped a heist at the Central Bank a couple of months ago and I was there. I could've died without you.”

Aw, crap on a stick.

“Do you… do you know who I am?”

“You’re Red Robin,” she repeats.

“He’s asking about his identity behind the mask.”

The way she glares at Jason doesn’t suggest she had been shaking in fear moments ago. “He’s Red Robin,” she insists. “I don’t need anything else.”

“If you don’t know… how do you have so many…” Hood gestures vaguely at her creepy corkboard.

“I did detective work,” she says and glances at Red Robin as if expecting a pat on the back. “I noticed you always go on patrol on mondays, wednesdays, fridays and saturdays. Then if I wandered around long enough… It was just a matter of hard work and bit of luck, really.”

Damn. Now that Tim thinks about it, the one time he went on patrol spontaneously was also the night Vicki Vale found him by coincidence rather than magically knowing what happened.

“Fuuuuck,” Hood groans. “I told B patrol schedule was a dumb idea!” Then, in a deep growly voice, “ It’s a matter of efficiency Hood, don’t be paranoid. Who’s paranoid now, Batloser?”

“Not the time, Hood.”

“Right. Proceed.”

Red Robin sighs. “Why did you sell my pictures to Vicki Vale?”

At that, Lisa looks suddenly ashamed. “I.. I’m sorry. I thought… I thought you were involved with him and I panicked. I thought… I thought seeing what it would do to your reputation would make you see that he’s not good enough for you.”

“Rude.”

“Hood.”

“What? She is.”

“I was trying to learn more about him, you know? I was. When I found out he was your brother, I realized you had no option, right? Family is family. I even told the news again to clean your record.”

So he had a stalker. A stalker concerned about his love life, no less, that’s… great. Just great. Of all the scenarios he considered they’d have to face, this is not one of them. Before he decides what to do, however, Lisa speaks up again.

“You sound so… nice.”

Tim stares at her in confusion, unsure whether to thank her or not. Regardless, she didn’t sound like she was complimenting him.

“I mean… aren’t I supposed to be?”

“No! I mean… you’re… you’re dark and brooding and serious and you don’t waste time with civilians unless forced…” She frowns and Tim figures she’s thinking about the night with the strippers. “You’re… the night.”

Jason snorts. Tim punches his knee again. “Lisa, I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of Batman, not me.”

Her expression twists in such fury both vigilantes prepare to restrain her, but instead of directing her anger at them, Lisa scoffs.

“Don’t get me started on Batman! All that crap about being mysterious and working alone? Then he joins the freaking Justice League? Just… Batman, in the middle of a bunch of rainbow wearing clowns. And then… all those freaking kids. Why does he have so many kids?”

“Lady, we ask ourselves that everyday,” Tim admits.

Lisa is wearing the same expression Krystal had when Red Robin denied his relationship with Hood.

“I’m sorry, Lisa, I’m grateful that you admire me, but you can’t keep following me like this.”

Her eyes teary again, Lisa swallows dry. “Clearly, if you’re sorry about it.”

They can’t exactly take her to Arkham for taking pictures. Tim feels less bad about the whole thing when the woman stands and starts telling them in a very loud voice to get the hell out of her house.

“Fine,” Jason says, heading to the corkboard. “But I’m taking this.”

“Take it,” she shouts. “I don’t need it anymore. You’re just like Batman!”

And that’s how Red Hood and Red Robin find themselves standing in the middle of a dusty hallway, Hood with a conspiracy board under his arm.

Well, that happened.

In the end, Steph was furious about them going to the stalker’s house by themselves, but there was not a lot she could do except doodle on every picture of the stalker board.

There must be something very wrong with their sense of humor, because their text group becomes a mess of jokes about the stalker Robin being stalked. At that Tim has no problem exercising Jason’s lessons in holding grudges and refuses to help them with any of their cases unless they stop it. The thing is that all of them find the whole thing hilarious.

All of them except Duke.

“Give it a while,” Tim tells him. “You’re the most recent acquisition to the family. In due time your idea of funny will be just as warped as ours.”

“Hm. When was the last time you slept, Timmy?” Duke asks.

“Tuesday.”

“Today is Tuesday.”

“Hahahaha yeah.”

“... Jaaaaasooon! Come over here! Tim is going into The Ring territory! Do something about it!”

Bruce doesn’t find it funny either. He isn’t happy that there’s a deranged meta he didn’t know about, but Tim thinks that was the least surprising part of the whole ordeal. He reckons a lot of metas doesn’t want to be a hero or a villain, they’re just regular people that live regular lives and happened to win in the metagene lottery.

Or… well. In Lisa’s case, not so regular.

And that’s why upon hearing the story for the first time, Bruce completely freaks out. He starts considering possibilities from scaring the woman as Batman - “That’s a terrible idea, dad, you heard she likes that shit,” says Dick over facetime - or having her arrested - “Father, having bad taste in men is hardly a crime. She has yet to do anything to harm Timothy” Damian helpfully reminds him - and finally to fill out a restraining order - “For who, Karen?” Jason snaps. “Red Robin? Or you want to walk into that nut job and tell her she’s not allowed near Tim Drake-Wayne?”

Long story short, it’s chaos. Tim has had enough of a crazy night, so he sits back near the training area of the cave and sips the tea Alfred made him. Bruce is doing Tim’s stressed out circuit, pacing back and forth around the cave while his children follow him - Damian is holding the phone higher than his head so Dick can talk to Bruce at eye level - and they try to talk him out of doing anything stupid.

Most of them, anyway. It looks like Duke is definitely looking into the possibility of a restraining order.

Cass detaches herself from the mess and heads towards Tim. She looks calm, as Cass always does, and some of that calm transfers to him. When she takes a seat by his side, he smiles at her.

“Okay?” she asks.

Tim shrugs. “Weirded out, mostly. I’ll be fine.”

She points at her then signs Tim’s house as a question. She’s asking him if he wants her to come over.

While Cass is one hell of a bodyguard, Tim thinks of Steph, who’s most definitely playing with his video games back at home, and of Jason, whose schedule mostly matches Tim’s, hence he is, more often than not, at one shout of distance. Tim can’t think of any place that feels safer than his home right now.

“I’m fine. Jay and Steph are taking care of me. I’ll just have to be twice as careful during patrol,” he says.

Cass nods, satisfied. She gives him a forehead kiss and leans against his side. The two of them watch their family yell at each other for the next ten minutes, matching serene smiles on their faces.

Bruce settles for keeping Lisa under occasional watch.

Barbara stalks her online and finds that Lisa has left a Red Robin fanclub (Tim did not know those existed) and closed all of her threads on the Red Robin subreddit (Tim knew about those, but kept his distance), making it seem that learning that Red Robin is just a polite-ish kid really killed her love.

Bruce says he’ll keep tabs on her because he know she’s a meta, it’s not like he’s being overprotective, he totally knows Tim can take care of himself, really.

Other than that, Bruce is way too happy about Jason’s new living arrangement. He even almost smiles.

Tim… is fine. The whole thing is creepy, for sure, but he finds out that his siblings making so many jokes about it makes it easier to handle. Yay for their unhealthy coping mechanisms.

He doesn’t think he will ever be okay with media, though. It’s annoying enough that he has to deal with reporters as Tim Drake-Wayne, he definitely doesn’t need the attention as Red Robin.

Luckily for him, his siblings help him with that too. One time he’s wrapping a gang bust with Nightwing when a reporter comes running towards them, begging for a few answers. Red Robin cringes inwardly realizing there are no close buildings to use his grapple, but before he can say anything, Nightwing squeezes his shoulder.

“Go, Timmy. I’ve got this.”

Tim smile. “Thanks, Dick.”

And he leaves the silent and swift way only a Bat can do.

Things are great. As great as they can be in Gotham, at least. Tim wakes up at 9am - an early time for a vigilante, but he got at least 5 hours of sleep, so that’s something - and heads to the kitchen. He finds Steph (who still swears she doesn’t live with them) and Jason bickering over pancakes they’re making. Smiling to himself, Tim mumbles a good morning and starts washing the dirty dishes from last night.

The peaceful morning is interrupted by Steph’s phone buzzing. She use a paper towel to clean her hands before checking it and…

“Uh… Timbers?” she calls.

He freezes, the pan he’s washing suddenly forgotten. “What now?”

Steph is trembling with contained laughter when she hands him the phone. Duke just sent her a link to a news article. Tim clicks and finds himself staring at the headline RIVALRY BETWEEN HEROES? followed by a clear picture of Nightwing and a blurry shot of Red Robin.

The article follows:

After dealing with an infamous gang of contrabandists that operated near Gotham’s harbor, Nightwing and Red Robin went their separate ways without much courtesy. Despite the short collab, it appears that Red Robin didn’t appreciate Nighwing’s help, his farewell words being a sarcastic “thanks” followed by calling Bludhaven’s hero a “dick”.

Tim raises his eyes to the other two. Steph is hiding her face into the crook of Jason’s neck, her shoulders still trembling a bit. Having read the article over Steph’s shoulder, Jason is biting his lip.

Tim deadpans: “This is the funniest shit that ever happened to me.”

The three of them explode in laughter and they cackle for a good minute, until the three of them are breathless and their cheeks hurt.

“I-I want to print that and frame it,” Steph manages between giggles. “Let’s hang it on the living room.”

“Good… ahaha… Good work, Timbers,” Jason says, smiling wide. “For that, you can have extra pancakes.”

Tim is still grinning when he goes back to his dish duty. Maybe being under the media attention isn't so bad after all.

#batfam #red robin #tim drake #jason todd #red hood #stephanie brown #red bros #poteto writing #lmao here take this

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madirablack · 4 years

Text

Home part 4

Wow it's been a hot minute huh. Someone ask for Jay and Timmy bonding at 3AM? Its really short but I'll give you guys some more soon.

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

The rain battered against the windows, shaking the trees and rattling off the whole city. The lights of the city remained lit, even with a bombing, Gotham's wheels kept turning. They were no strangers to disasters. No matter how much he wanted to, Jason couldn't sleep. Too cold then too hot, it was too loud then too quiet, too light then too dark. He spent hours trying to find the right position, even trying the floor at one point. Without the noise of cars, sirens and stuff smashing, and without the lumpy bed and thick scent of cigarettes, it felt weird. This was his room, it had been for many years, but it had grown foreign and lonely with disuse. He was laid on his front, blanket falling off slightly. He hugged the pillow with both arms as he looked to the clock on the wall. He could barely make out the time in the dark, but he could see that it was around 3:05 AM.

With a dissatisfied sigh, he cut his losses and put a shirt on before he went downstairs.

The house was ridiculous. You could be there for a week and not see the same thing twice. At night, the halls were mostly dark, but it kind of became muscle memory as to where each set of stairs or each turn took you. He took extra care to be quiet, not wanting to disturb the precious little amount of sleep the family would be getting tonight. Once he was down to the main floor, he began snaking his way to the kitchen, hoping nobody was up. In the midst of everything that happened, he had forgotten to eat, and was now feeling the effects of such an unwise decision. An empty stomach for 30 hours was not a good move. What he didnt expect, however, was the light to be glowing through the open door as he walked past. He walked in, wincing at all the sudden bright light. Once he adjusted, he looked around to see if anyone was there. The kitchen was absurdly grandiose. Large, open, well-organized and well-coordinated. All the appliances were so shiny you could see your face in just about anything. He began to hum to himself as he opened the fridge and freezer simultaneously, scanning for any good quality snack material, when, out of nowhere, he found the holy grail. An untouched pint of the best ice cream flavour in the world. He grabbed a spoon and began eating it straight from the carton, not caring that it was 3am, not caring that he should be eating something far better. He turned around and promptly jumped six feet in the air when he saw Tim sat at the counter.

God, he looked like shit. The kid was pale, bloodshot eyes had dark bags hanging under them, and his hands and shoulders looked like they were twitching. He was wearing a grey sweater that looked five sizes too big for him. He just looked like a scared child, like he was about to start crying. He looked like he had just seen someone get split in half or something equally scarring. When he saw Jason begin to stare at him, he offered a weak, defeated-looking smile before he curled his bony hands around a mug of what one could only presume to be coffee.

"Timmy," Jason began as he reached for the paper towels to wipe up the ice cream he dropped, crouching down then speaking again as he came back up. "What's going on kid?" He said with genuine concern in his voice, not getting too close as he knew how skittish Tim could get under certain circumstances. He watched as Tim took a deep breath, followed by a sip of coffee, before beginning to speak. "I... I kinda had a nightmare... but then it turned into what actually happened tonight and... just forget it it's not a big deal." He looked down again, jumping slightly as Jason sat next to him with his rescued Haagen Dazs.

"Yeah, I get it." He said as he loaded a spoonful, talking through his mouthful of ice cream. "Dealing with shit on your own is far easier to do rather than admitting that something's wrong. It's the more 'manly' option or some bullshit," He used his spoon to point at his younger brother before making his second point, "but it only works for so long. To be honest kid, neither of us are doing fantastic, not even doing okay at this point, and what happened tonight, well, that's enough to push anyone-" he immediately stopped when he saw tears begin to form in Tim's eyes.

"I... I was okay. Yknow?" Tim began, wiping his eyes with the sweater sleeve. "I was fine, yeah okay I still had my sleeping problems but it was normal, and then this just- I mean, fuck. Damian like actually died for a bit. What's to say he isn't gonna croak for good? I know I fight with him all the time, and I... got really mad when he became robin but... he's just a little kid, this should never have happened... I... all the blood... I..."

"Hey...shh. just breathe." Jason began, trying his best to help. "It's gonna be okay. Dami's been through so much shit already this will be like a scraped knee to that resilient little bastard." He smiled when he that got a small giggle from Tim. "We did a goddamn amazing job. You should be proud dude. He lost a lot of blood and broke a rib or two, got a new hole in his chest, his body's probably just gonna take a few days to rest and recover yknow? If he could come back from that straight away he wouldn't be human, even if he is a little demon at times." He looked at Tim, smiling slightly, "You okay if I give you a hug man?"

Tim nodded, getting off his stool completely to give Jason a hug. Their size difference was definitely hilarious, but it did give room for some of the best hugs on the market. One that was warm, comforting and made you feel safe in all the best ways. When he pulled away from the hug, he managed a smile. "Thanks Jay," he began, getting a head-shake in return as his brother had another spoonful of ice-cream. "You doing okay? I- I know you weren't... obviously you don't have to..." his voice trailed off as he looked away, expecting to have hit a nerve, but he got no such reaction.

"Nah, its about time I talked to someone about it. And hey it's only fair, you told me about yours so..." Jason took a deep breath before he began to unload. "So, you know that clown makes a big deal of bombs around the holidays? Well, he blew Damian up. The worst thing is, it was completely circumstantial for him to be there." He saw the look on Tim's face and began to slow down, taking back the idea of saying anything at all. "I uh... well... I had been having these episodes of being back in the warehouse yknow? A-and I can never move. I can never stop him. Even when I'm just by myself, doing anything, he's always still there, just stood there, laughing at me, goading me... he never fucking leaves me alone. The meds are meant to help but-" He chuckled softly, involuntarily using humour to avoid the seriousness of it. "sometimes it goes from the warehouse, to the apartment... and I'm 12 again... seeing my mom OD. But... yesterday... I was back in the warehouse, and when he smacked me with the crowbar right here" he said, gesturing to the faded scar across his left cheek, " I... I turned into him. And Damian turned into me. No matter how much I wanted to stop, It kept happening and happening." He found himself crying. He looked up at Tim as he wiped his eyes. "Now I think this goes without saying that this stays between us. Bruce can't know, Dickie can't fucking know, Alfie definitely can't know. Alright?" Tim gave a reluctant nod before moving in for another hug. That was too much to take in at once. He was grateful that he was trusted enough to receive such a genuine expression, but judging by what he was told, this really did need the attention of others. He smiled briefly and lifted his mug.

#Jason todd #tim drake #batfamily angst #batfam angst #batfamily #batfam #batbros #red hood

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tiaragqueen · 5 years

Note

Can i ask for yandere!Baekhyun when the reader disappears before he gets to confess or kidnap her? Like, he gets obsessed with her after they meet each other and its up to you if she knows that theres something wrong with him or not and if he meets her again years later or not. Sorry if its confusing.

Last Resort

Well, I think I made the MC a little sassier than I’ve intended her to be…

If you like mywriting, please support me on ko-fi!

“Sometimes your closest friend is your greatest enemy.” - Jason Fong

The picture sat on the nightstand, reminding Baekhyun of the bittersweet memories he used to share with you.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. You only wanted to achieve your dream, and the opportunity just so happened to present itself in another country. Therefore, it wouldn’t be strange if you took it. You were an independent woman, after all. You’d saved plenty of money for this kind of thing, and you were more than ready to leave this exhausting life behind. He had no doubt that you could adapt to the new environment very well.

However, just because he acknowledged your adaptation skills, it didn’t mean that he was as ready as you were.

Of course, as his best friend, you’d reassured him many times before that you wouldn’t ‘neglect’ him. That you wouldn’t forget to text and call him once in a while. Baekhyun merely nodded, a bit satisfied with the alternative way after he’d begged you to stay, yet disappointed nonetheless. How could he not? He’d tried so hard to make you understand that departing wasn’t the right choice, and you would be safe in Korea instead.

But you were stubborn, saying that you would definitely survive. You also added that that country had a low criminality percentage. Obviously, he wasn’t convinced. Criminals existed everywhere, and a dumb statistic meant nothing if the possibility of you getting hurt was still present.

That, and because he feared that he wouldn’t be able to confess his true feelings for you had something terrible befall you.

So, Baekhyun tried to offer some job vacancies he’d searched day and night from various sources, online or newspaper. You didn’t know about his efforts – about how far he was willing to force you to stay – and snapped at him. You’d told him that you’d expected him to be glad with the news you’d brought; that you finally had a chance to live the life you’ve been wanting. You were terribly upset, and left with a huff.

The pain of witnessing you lashing out stung more than seeing your bright smile when you bounded up to him to announce the unexpected news.

Baekhyun persisted, however, and visited your apartment that afternoon. He’d planned on confessing as the last option, but it was clear that luck wasn’t on his side these past few days.

Your apartment was empty, saved from the basic furniture. There was barely any sign of existence in there. The closet was barren from your clothes, the bed slowly losing your natural smell, the floor was a bit dusty from the lack of proper cleaning. Heck, even the fridge was vacant from the snacks and beverage you’d regularly stocked to consume during midnight. The tick-tock of the clock remained as the only sound left in the living room. It was like you simply vanished from the face of Earth.

Now, he could handle your temper. He was your friend, after all. But this? Baekhyun ain’t taking none of your shit.

Gritting his teeth, he kicked the lone chair like a child throwing a tantrum and returned to his house. Baekhyun didn’t want to have to resort to this; he’d wished you would come to your own understanding. However, your disappearance gave him no reason to prolong the inevitable any further.

“Is she here now?”

The burly guard bowed. “Yes, she’s currently in the basement.” he replied in a raspy voice.

Baekhyun nodded and dismissed him with a flick of his hand. After the guard left, Baekhyun glanced at the photo frame on the nightstand. You were facing the camera and gave a peace sign, while he grinned with one arm slung around your shoulders. The sparkles in your eyes were visible as you beamed, something that he would never got tired of watching.

Smiling, Baekhyun turned his back and headed to the basement. He could already picture your clueless and shocked self of being awaken in a strange place, bounded in a chair.

And true to his mental image, you were sitting on a chair with ropes wrapped around your stomach and hands. Your eyes lit up immediately at his arrival as you wriggled, eager to have him releasing you. Baekhyun clicked his tongue, yet you were too absorbed in your little joy moment to notice.

“Baekhyun!” you beamed once he ripped open the black duck tape that plastered your lips. “Oh, thank God you’re here. Some men dressed in black knocked me out and brought me here! I was so scared… Can you take off these ropes, please?”

The hopeful request fell into blind ear as he held the golden pendant near your cleavage and inspected it.

“How beautiful,” he said absent-mindedly. “From who?”

“Oh, ah, it’s from Yoongi.”

Baekhyun froze, unconsciously squeezing the necklace in the process. “Yoongi…?”

You nodded, a bit confused with his sudden drop of mood. “He went abroad during my birthday, so he gave me that instead. A late birthday gift, he said.”

“Who is he?” When he heard you hum questioningly, he rephrased his inquiry. “Who is he to you?”

“A friend.”

“Friend?” he sneered. “I thought I was your friend.”

Now, your confusion grew to consternation. “What? Of course you are! I–” you stopped mid-sentence and narrowed your eyes. “Wait, do you think I only have you as my friend?”

Baekhyun remained quiet, eliciting a scoff from you due to his ridiculous yet perplexing naivety.

“Honestly, Baekhyun. How antisocial do you think I am? Of course, I have other friends. It’s not just you.”

Each word you spat out sent daggers into his heart, but he refused to surrender. Not when he finally had you where he wanted you to.

“So, you betrayed me.” he concluded.

“Huh? The hell are you talking about, Baekhyun? Just because I have other friends, doesn’t mean I betrayed you. Don’t be so possessive.”

Baekhyun dropped his head and mumbled, “That’s the thing, [Name]. I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

“Oh, so you wanna cut off our friendship because I befriended other people? Fine by me. At least, you’ve proven yourself that you’re toxic. The trash finally get rid of itself, huh?”

“No!” he growled, angry at your cluelessness and low opinion of him. How dare you thinking that he was toxic? And a trash, too? He loved you more than those so-called friends, especially that bastard Yoongi. He could buy you any jewelry you wanted at any price. You just needed to say the word. “I love you, [Name]! I’ve been wanting to tell you that, but instead, you came up to me and told me that you’re gonna leave soon. Heck, you even disappeared to that bastard Yoongi! Well, that just won’t do.”

“What?!” You reeled back in shock, eyes widened the size of a saucer. “Wait. So, this is about my departure? Goodness, Baekhyun. I think we’ve over this discussion already.” The epiphany dawned on you the longer you stared at his muddled irises. “Don’t tell me you’re the one who ordered those men to kidnap me…”

“So, what? Why does it matter? You’re mine, anyway. I can do anything to you.”

You scowled. Oh, the urge to strangle him had never been this strong before. “Don’t pretend to be dumb, Baekhyun. You can get in prison for kidnapping an innocent. And what the fuck with this sudden ‘mine’ thing?! I’ve never agreed to be yours, or anyone for that matter. I belong to myself! Not you, nor anyone. Nobody!”

“Oh, well. I guess I have to prove that to you, then.” Baekhyun ripped the pendant from your neck and turned to the guards that had been standing silently in the dark corners.

Your heart started to thump at his ominous tone. “What are you gonna do, Baekhyun?” When he didn’t reply, you lurched forward and yelled. “Oi, answer me!”

“Something that I should’ve done a long time ago.” He blinked, face devoid of any emotion. “Guards, get rid of Yoongi and bring back his head.”

The guards merely bowed despite your pleas and screams and went to do their mission.

“Baekhyun, what the fuck are you doing?! You couldn’t just ordered them to kill someone. That’s a crime!”

“It’s not a crime if you do it secretly.” he explained solemnly and peered over his shoulder. “Besides, we have to eliminate any witness. Wouldn’t want them to report us to the police, right? That, and because he’d touched you. It’s a crime in itself, you know?”

You gaped, clearly loss of words. Where was the sweetheart Baekhyun you’ve come to know all these years? Where did he go? Who was this man? What happened to him?

“If only you surrendered willingly, [Name], then perhaps I wouldn’t have to resort to this option. But you never gave me a chance, anyway. Why should I wait any longer?”

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violetsmoak · 4 years

Text

Pieces of April [11/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

As expected, Jason doesn’t sleep that night.

His eyes remain trained on the ceiling of the guestroom while his subconscious drags him along a tilt-a-whirl of anxious and circular thoughts. He can barely process what they are with how fast they manifest and vanish again to be replaced with new ones. And before he’s really aware of it, the sun is streaming through the window that he forgot to pull the shades over, and he hears movement outside the room.

Figuring he might as well get up, he heaves himself out of bed and ambles down the stairs, skirting the piles of baby supplies he somehow forgot about while drowning in his night of circular thinking.

Tim is standing in his kitchen doing up his tie, nodding and humming with a frown on his face. Jason’s about to ask until he notices the hands-free earpiece in one ear. That could be either for work or to cover the Bat-issue comm; he probably has the latter plugged in permanently the same way Bruce does.

Tim notices him, and his mouth quirks upward in a not-quite smile of greeting.

“I’ll be in shortly, Lucius,” he says distantly. “We can discuss it before the meeting.” He taps the earpiece, hanging up, and then addresses Jason. “Good morning. You look like shit.”

“It’s the ‘I-didn't-sleep’ chic, which you should recognize since you invented it.”

“You’re just jealous you can’t make it look as good as I can,” Tim quips, and maybe if Jason were well-rested, he’d have a better retort for that. Instead, he narrows his eyes to study the younger man.

Tim Drake is polished and put-together, the epitome of perfect Wayne heir. Damian might throw around the words ‘blood son’ at every opportunity, and Dickie might be the first and favorite son, but Tim’s the one actually carrying on the Wayne legacy. From what Jason’s heard, he does it better than Bruce ever did.

Goddamn workaholic. And that suit probably costs more than rent for one of my legal apartments.

“I’m heading out,” Tim announces needlessly, taking a sip of what must be coffee from a travel mug. “I’ll try to get home before four o’clock, but it really depends on how much work Lucius decides to pile on while I’m still in town.”

“Because it sure as hell won’t get done if B is the only one around,” Jason agrees, earning a sharp grin in reply.

“Exactly.”

And there’s the cocky little bastard Jason’s been waiting to re-emerge after a day of being hidden by the scarily competent functioning adult façade.

“Feel free to stick around here and play the game system or raid the fridge or whatever. It’s up to you. The security system’s biometric, but I can give you an override code—” Noticing Jason’s disgusted and somewhat insulted look, he huffs, “Or not. Whatever. You’ll figure it out.”

He leaves without saying anything else, and suddenly Jason is well and truly alone for the first time since waking up on the anniversary of his death with his only thought being to get black-out drunk.

Funny how much twenty-four hours can change.

Except it’s really not.

Jason doesn’t want to spend another day thinking over all of his problems and the infinite possibilities of how the situation can become even more screwed up or confusing, so he busies himself with breaking into Tim’s hideout.

That occupies him for a little while, figuring out the security codes to the false wall and then to the locks on his computer system. He spends the morning wandering around, getting to know the frankly sweet set-up of the place, testing out the training room and looking under the hood of the cars in the garage.

Wonder if Timbers would help me outfit my bunker.

He’s been squatting in an old subbasement beneath GCPD headquarters for a few weeks now; the place was cut off from the main building during the Cataclysm a few years back and for whatever reason, everyone seems to believe it was caved in beyond repair.

Jason’s cleaned the place out and set up his own operation, but it doesn’t have the tech or necessities of an actual Cave. Which, frankly, isn’t fair, since everyone else has their own Batman-free getaway to hide in when the old man gets in one of his moods. Hell, even the new kid has a place beneath the Fox center.

As soon as the thought enters his mind, Jason scowls.

What the hell am I thinking?

None of this is even going to matter for a while anyway, now that he’s about to be benched. Might as well say goodbye to the state-of-the-art vigilante tech now and spare himself the disappointment.

He leaves the Nest (was Drake born without the ability to be original or something?) and returns to the living area, examining the place with a more critical eye this time around.

He still ignores looking at the pile of baby supplies.

Jason’s first impression the day before was of a barely lived in space, meant to show any would-be-intruders how a normal local celebrity might live. He learns he was only half-right when he spies smaller, more personal touches in the décor as he wanders through the house. There are photographs arranged along most of the walls, which on first glance he assumed were the kind you picked up at Ikea to make a place look classy, but he realizes as he studies the black-and-white images that they are shots of various locations in Gotham.

Locations a normal person can’t actually get to.

Which means Tim must have taken them himself; it’s just innocuous enough that a regular visitor would only admire the clarity of the shot. To someone like Jason, it’s impressive for completely different reasons; not least of all the danger inherent in achieving just that right angle. Two pictures he knows could only have been taken by hanging one-handed off a Gotham Trade Centre gargoyle.

The whole thing says more about Tim’s personality than any human detritus or strewn personal belongings could.

Though he does have those, too.

The shelf beside the television has a copy of what might be every video game known to man, across three different platforms. The study is filled with vintage board games and robot figurines and piles of tech magazines. Everything is scary neat—the professional, unnatural Stepford kind of neat that speaks of someone paid to clean it—with the exception of Tim’s bedroom. Jason pokes his head in there for like a second before shuddering and walking away from it.

How has Alfred not murdered you yet, kid?

Back downstairs, he studies the faux mantle above the electric fireplace where he sees artfully placed personal pictures of other recognizable personages. Tim with his Kryptonian and speedster friends, then him along with his generation of Titans. There’s one of him as a child with two people Jason assumes are his parents at a high society event of some sort, as well as a wedding photo of him much older; the man beside him is the same, but the woman in the veil is different. Stepmother, probably.

Jason pauses to smirk at the one of Tim and Dick on a beach somewhere, both ridiculously sunburned; it’s in the same folding frame as one with them both sitting beside Bruce on a beach chair. The older man is asleep, or at least pretending very well, and they’ve used sunscreen to write ‘I hate this place’ on his chest. Alfred obviously took that one.

The family butler is in the next image, standing beside the entry stairway of the manor with a thoughtful expression on his face. It’s so clearly staged to seem as distinguished as possible.

Guess Alf never did get over his dislike of having candid pictures of him taken.

Moving on, there’s a four-strip photo of Tim and Blondie stuck in the frame of a larger one with all three Batgirls past and present in what he supposes is Barbie’s apartment, with them trying to show Cass how to make a duck face. Beside it, one of Tim and the Thomas kid arguing over what looks to be a disemboweled computer; judging by the thumb shape in the corner it was taken sneakily and probably by Dick. Hell, there’s even one of the demon brat there, conked out on a couch in Bruce’s study with a black and white cat curled up on his chest.

Family’s all here, he thinks with a grim sort of humor. All except yours truly.

He’s not sure if he would have expected different, given his and Tim’s relationship. They might partner on occasion, and he works better with Tim than any of the other Bats he sometimes teams up with, but it’s not like they’re actually close. He doesn’t go out of his way to spend time with him outside of the mask, and then there’s a chasm of tense history between them.

He’d actually be surprised if—

Something catches his eye as he turns away from the fireplace, if only because next to all the gleaming frames its’ ordinariness makes it stick out. There’s a faded paper propped up against the wall behind a decorative clock, and when Jason reaches to pick it up and examine it, he finds himself staring down at his own grinning face.

Sort of.

It’s him from years ago.

The Jason Todd before Bruce stopped trusting him; before finding out his entire life had been a lie and before the Joker destroyed him. And it’s not so much a picture as a clipping from a newspaper.

Little Jason grins up at the photographer, missing his right canine and the same side of his face slightly puffy. Jason vaguely remembers the fight with Two-Face the night before, faster than he recalls sitting for this photo. He’s wearing a school uniform, can now recall the harried little man asking if he was sure he didn’t want to wait for picture retakes so they could get a picture when his face wasn’t bruised (“Bruce tried to teach me to ride a horse. They need to make those things closer to the ground!”) and him refusing because he earned these colors, thanks very much—

Jason can’t figure out how this photo ended up in a newspaper, though; the only pictures of him still extant in public are the ones they drag up on television every few years when Bruce does some bit of charity for orphans. Reminders of the poor dead orphan.

But this one—no, now he remembers.

This was the photo the press used during the custody case when Bruce was publicly battling Natalia Knight for guardianship of Jason. It’s not a copy, printed off the internet or digitally finished as a photograph. There’s yellowing around the edges and the paper quality is thin and grainy the way an actual newspaper is when it ages.

But why the hell does Tim have this?

He’s been back from the dead for years now, and with the Bat propensity for stalking and surveillance footage, if Tim wanted a photo of him, he could certainly have gotten all manner of material. Why this one? And why include it here at all, if it’s hidden away behind the others like a dirty secret?

The whole thing is vastly unsettling, and as he remembers Tim’s words from yesterday—

“We’re too complicated to be family. But we are Robins. And in a lot of ways, I think that’s stronger than us being part of the Family.”

—his chest starts to experience that vicelike pressure he’s been having on and off since learning about Isabel and the baby.

He’s struck by the very pressing need to get out of here.

Fleeing the apartment for the hidden Nest once more, Jason finds the exit protocols and manual overrides for Tim’s system, then borrows one of the bikes in the garage area. Tim did say he was free to do ‘whatever’ and though Jason doubts that includes absconding with his wheels, he doesn’t entirely care. He doesn’t even bother looking for the tracking beacons he knows are hidden on them.

He’s not running away, he’s just…clearing his head.

Or clearing it as well as anyone can while navigating the construction and traffic-infested roads of Gotham.

An open highway would be the most ideal way for him to lose himself and avoid his complicated feelings, but he supposes that option has its own dangers. Like just driving straight to California and pretending the past day has been nothing but a bad dream.

Instead, the constant roadblocks and detours Jason’s forced to take through the corners of the city jog his brain back into thinking. Back into reasoning and solving problems and improvising like he usually does.

First of all, he needs to stop letting Tim do everything for him.

Jason is capable—has survived on his own his whole life; it’s time to get his shit together. And to do that, he has to find someone who can take care of the baby.

His daughter.

He needs to get used to saying it, whether he stays in her life or not.

Jason isn’t entirely sure what he’s looking for in terms of the plans Tim suggested to him the night before. There’s merit to all the ideas, but he’s stuck between getting her out of Gotham or finding someone here who knew Isabel.

Or at least someone who knew she was expecting a kid. Any kind of connection to her mother would be better than nothing.

In theory.

Jason’s pretty sure that it’s a rare kid—himself included—who would have been better off without knowing anything about their birth mother. But Isabel is not Sheila, and the situation isn’t anything like that one.

He’s not even sure where to start looking for potential guardians.

Though Isabel’s friend Safiya said she would be looking into it, it’s once again putting Jason in the position of letting others deal with the consequences of his own actions. If only he knew more about what frame of mind Isabel was in before all this started…

Jason didn’t live with the world’s greatest detective for three years of his life without learning how to build a profile on someone. And the best starting point for that is where she spent most of her time.

He pulls over in the parking lot of a Bat Burger to unlock the fancy computer hidden within the bike’s dash (obviously one of Tim’s own design) and linking to the Bat-network’s backdoor to Gotham General’s patient records. Then it’s a simple search to bring up Isabel’s personal information, including her latest address.

Turns out she moved a lot closer to Gotham General than she was before; as he revs the motor and takes off again, Jason wonders if that was pre-emptive.

Isabel’s place is on the edge of Midtown, where the business district turns residential. The condominium itself seems well taken care of, especially in contrast to the fixer-uppers Jason’s used to in his own neighborhood, but in Gotham, that means next to nothing.

Though clearly Isabel’s been doing well if she’s able to afford a place here.

He’s not entirely sure what the average flight attendant’s salary is, but maybe she was just good with money.

Her apartment is on the highest floor of the apartment building, reachable by the fire escape. He scowls a bit at the idea that just anyone could get in here if they so choose, and if she thinks that’s a good enough deterrent than—

Jason has to stop and shake his head and remind himself that Isabel is gone. She’ll never have to worry about break-ins again.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he jimmy’s open the window and slips through.

⁂⁂⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

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#jaytim #jaytim fanfiction #jason todd #tim drake #babyfic #accidental baby acquisition #enemies to lovers #slow build #slow burn #coping with big news

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wajjs · 5 years

Text

Tagged by @setsailslash <3

Rules: Use five minutes, and only five minutes, to write a drabble. No re-reading, no editing.

SO while I respected the no editing thing, I DID go over the five minute mark. Everything before the cut/read more was done within the initial 5min, the rest is me getting carried away.

No content warnings except that I tried to write something funny and WELL. That’s the real warning here. Inspiration came from this video. Also, shoutout to the peeps at the Jason-centric server that found this idea so cursed I just HAD to do it.

Tagging: @puppetmaster55 @mizulekitten @graphicabyss @strawberrylovely and anyone else that sees this and wants to do it!

—

One thing stays true above many others, and Jason ponders on the meaning of life and if pride is really all that worth it or if for once he can admit to being a sore loser. He stares at the cracked reflection of the mirror he still hasn't had time to change after Roy's latest experiment. It's fitting, in a way, because right behind him is that same bastard that he's come to care about in ways he doesn't truly want to analyze. Least of all right now, when Roy's smiling at him with a feral glint, his dexterous fingers running through Jason's hair.

"You aren't getting cold feet, are you? Because, you know, it's alright if you want to back down, just know I'll never let it go and—"

Jason wonders how is this his life. Wonders if there is a way to make Roy shut up. Realizes he doesn't really want to find a way to make Roy shut up. "A bet is a bet. I said I'll do it, so I will."

Roy's smile grows wider and he gives Jason's hair a tender tug. "Honestly, though, I'm going to miss this. It's easily your money maker. The panties dropper. Well. And boxers dropper. Or briefs? But what if the person is going commando, then what would drop?"

Jason decides to glare at the mirror again. Oh well, at least this is definitely not the worst thing he's ever done.

—

He can feel them staring at him and he's acting like he hasn't noticed yet. They are all freaks, himself included, so Jason knows they are pretending not to notice him pretending not to notice them. Sometimes they can be trustworthy like that.

Of course, it doesn't last forever.

"Hey!" The dickest guy to ever wear the tights, Dick, runs up to him, flipping and twirling over a ledge so they are on the same roof and Jason isn't surprised about the twirling, just wary.

"What is it?"

"You were gone for a while. Everything alright?"

Jason tilts his head to glare at the sky and his shoulder twitches, just slightly, at the odd scratch the movement earns him across his cheeks and jawline. "Just peachy."

Of course, them being them, bastards as they come, Dick hones in on the twitch like a hound on a hunt — only if the hound had the grace of an acrobat and the timing of a bomb.

"Are... you sure?"

Roy's not here but it's all the same, Jason muses a bit irrationally. After all, if it hadn't been for his stupid bet he wouldn't be in this situation. And, sure, maybe he's making it into a bigger thing than it actually is (the memory of Roy's laughter, though, makes him think otherwise). Yes, he might have also made it into a bigger reveal by keeping his whole head hidden as much as he could (for as long as he could) from these idiots that care for him even though they shouldn't. The way they care is up for debate, alright, still they do and Jason's yet to make up his mind on what the feels about that.

Or what he feels about having his payback and attacking Roy the minute they are in the same room again.

He's delayed this enough, Jason decides right then and there. Dick is a better option than the others, and the sure way of letting everyone else know without Jason even lifting a finger. So he takes a deep breath and takes off his helmet, refusing to break eye contact. He's so going to strangle Roy even though there's a 50/50 chance the idiot might get into it.

Dick is, expectedly, priceless.

"Jaybird." Jason's neon red wig flutters a bit in the wind. Jason also doesn't blink. "What the fuck. Is on your head."

Jason tucks his helmet under one arm. "My hair."

Spluttering, a step backwards and closer to the ledge is taken. "Are you — no, it's not your hair! That's — that's a fucking wig!"

"Ah," Jason's voice remains a firm monotone. "That. Well."

It occurs to him then that Barbara is probably watching this in a live feed, high definition, maximizing the image so she has a full screen dedicated to this disaster. Well then, he's always been able to put on a decent show.

Slowly, he lifts his other hand and takes off the wig — Dick's body posture relaxes a little only for him to explode in laughter. The red gives way to a truly nauseating orange wig, the exact same style as the previous one. Jason takes that one off too, showing a bright yellow one underneath, and Dick's unfiltered, unadulterated laughter is a contagious thing because Jason's smiling like Roy would (like an idiot) as he drops the cheap wigs on the roof. After the yellow comes a green one, then a blue one and last a purple one.

He steps closer to Dick, who is crouching, almost kneeling, while pressing one of his hands to his stomach as he tries to contain his laughter. He's failing so badly at it that Jason laughs, too, waiting to deliver the final punch. What Roy made him do. Well. Roy did give him an out, but that was just the final push to make Jason actually do it.

"Hey. Hey, big bird. Stop laughing like you're about to lay an egg and look at me, will you?"

Dick is already looking at him but Jason wants his full attention for the next part. He's somewhat grateful he's wearing his domino mask because like this Dick can't see there's actual apprehension. But he's gone all the way, he's not about to stop right when it's about to end.

Jason doesn't say anything else. He simply lifts his hand again, slower this time, and leaves it atop the purple wig for two seconds before taking that off as well. There is a moment, a long, drawn out moment in which the surprise of the sight is so strong it punches Dick's laughter out of his body. Then:

"OH MY GOD," Dick points at Jason's shiny head and shakes the finger for good measure, "WHY ARE YOU BALD?!"

#blob writes #jason todd #dick grayson #roy harper #no one ever asked for this but i'm providing anyway #because what better way to motivate me than telling me that an idea is cursed djlkasjdklsa #every jason is beautiful every jason is great #rhato #batfam #dc #could be read as #royjay #;)#ALSO APOLOGIES IF THEY SEEM A BIT OOC BUT THIS IS MEANT TO BE A JOKE

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semicolonthefifth · 4 years

Text

CROSS Ch4 - You Rascal You

A couple hours had passed since then. The music-player had been cycling through several songs and had eventually settled on “Run’ Em Off” by Lefty Frizzel - a moderately cheery Old Earth Western tune. Charlie recalled hearing Jason groan quite audibly when it played.

Charlie had never seen a man drink seven full, large glasses at a bar in one sitting - especially not without losing control of their higher brain functions.

Yet there he was - the man he’d come to know as Jason Cross. Gunslinger; bounty hunter; one of a two man team, part of a famed group that would take down raiders through skill and knowledge of the land. He was a man he only knew as a wondrous tale of wasteland justice; and there he was, chugging alcohol as if he was competing for the world’s biggest drunkard. Yet at his 8th glass in the man stood. At least that was something worth admiring.

Frankie, meanwhile, was all too busy admiring the book - his nose deep into the pages cataloging the history of Aurora. He gazed with sheer joy in detail of every photo, sometimes turning back a page just to re-admire it some more. He let Charlie and Jason be, all while he was content with catching up on the knowhow of the world.

Charlie coughed a bit before asking politely through some discomfort, “Um, Mr. Cross?”

Jason held a finger up, silencing Charlie while he finishes his latest order. After a few large gulps does he finish, letting out a long and heavy sigh. A quietness comes after, with Jason staring off into space. Charlie almost gets a word in before Jason then speaks up.

“Fuckin’ genetics, I swear to God.” He softly complains. “I should be dead now, or at least hammered. Why am I always drawing the worst luck?”

“Yeah… was about to ask about that.” Charlie wonders aloud with a worried tone. “How are you still talking, or in fact… standing?”

“Call it a curse.” Coldly replies Jason. “Let’s just say my body ain’t built like most others if my height ain’t a strong hint by now. Don’t want to get into it though… way too personal.”

“And what I just learned WASN’T personal already?”

Jason groaned more, head brought down with a thumb squeezing at his temple. His injured hand was deep into a plate of ice, half already melted at this point - all while his free hand tends to the headache. His brain was ringing a bit, but it wasn’t the alcohol that was running deep in his body. Repressed memories kept clawing out, and trying to bury them further was hurting his head more than it was worth. With a strong flavorful exhale, he picks his head back up and looks at Charlie.

“Alright, what do you want to know?”

“Y-... You serious?” Charlie asks, a bit concerned for his own safety as he was for Jason’s.

“More than I’m not.” Jason states, with hints of a tired slurring in his speech. “I’m half thinking of running out of here, but considering how shit my luck has been I don’t want to run the risk of something worse happening out there. So… ask away. Might as well ride this newfound awfulness till it ends.”

“Ok, ok…” Charlie collects himself, doing a couple of deep breaths before taking a professional, presentable angle to speak with Jason. “You are Jason Cross. Brother to Frederick Cross. Member of the Crimson Crosses, one of the most famous militia groups on the Black Road, here on on Aurora. Aaaaaand you’ve druken enough ale in one sitting to knock out a man.”

“Yup, unfortunately yes, absolutely no, and not even close.” Answers Jason with a tired look. “Fred and I haven’t been brothers for about… 5 years now. Not a word said to each other since, that I’m certain of. I’ve also not been a member of that damn group for the same amount of time - all entirely my choice. As for the drinking, I’m not close… not a little. I think I can handle some more.”

“But why?” Charlie asked, genuinely concerned - the wideness of his eyes like a boy hearing that his childhood hero was fake all along. “You two were fantastic. I’ve gotten so many stories collected about you guys. All the adventures you’ve taken, and the good you’ve done.”

He quickly snatches his collection book from Frankie, turning a large chunk of pages to a chapter highlighting the many achievements of the Crimson Crosses. There were stylized posters and photographs, all of them singing praise upon the Crosses and their exploits. Charlie began listing them off, all with a sense of innocent pride in his voice. “Here - this one’s about you guys facing off against a crook known as the Silver Stallion. And look here! ‘The Cross Brothers, and the Attack of the Screaming Mimmies!’, a widely-seen classic. Then there’s this one where you fended off a swarm of Kodvacs from ravaging some farms. You guys were heroes!”

Jason takes a glance at the photos, the memories coming back again. With it comes that tremble behind his eyes, a sharp pinch he tries to ignore before stating coldly, “Yeah, but that was long, long ago. Told you: Fred and I ain’t brothers no more. Those adventures don’t mean anything, not when things are so fucked right now. The Crimson Crosses weren’t meant to last with how they operated.”

“Why’s that?”

With a harsh cough, Jason continues. “All Frederick was concerned about was tradition, that’s it. He wanted to keep everything like it was in the old west days. How we lives; how we operated; how we even talked - if, again, you hadn’t noticed. Meanwhile, I wanted to have us improve and modernize; he thought I was ‘ruining things’, and said I had no respect. Eventually I said ‘fuck it’ and left. Left him and that group to rot.”

“That’s it?” Charlie asked softly, yet still curious. “Couldn’t talk it out?”

“Nope, and I don’t care anymore to ever return to it. I got my own thing, and he’s got his. Out here I’ve been handling myself fine these past years. Sure, there've been some… rough parts.” Jason pauses, out of the alcohol in his system or his own emotions is unclear. “Still, I can survive. Can’t say the same thing about the Crimson Crosses, but that don’t matter.”

“That’s unfortunate to hear…” Charlie said softly, looking rather devastated. Jason noticed, but he didn’t much care for it. Suddenly then, Charlie thought of something and proceeded to ask, “Well, it wouldn’t be so bad to talk to him again, right? Maybe catch up on some things? Make amends?”

“Oh to hell with that noise!” Jason shoots back. “I got better things to do.”

Frankie slides the book back to his reach, getting back into his reading as he chimes in with, “Yeah, Jason’s his own man now. Riding around, bounty hunting for the government. Last I heard he got a lead on some guy for a high price - Sid was it?” He shoots a toothy smile at Jason, exclaiming, “Ain’t that right, Jason?”

His smile suddenly weakens once he’s face to face with the sheer, utter misery emanating from Jason’s sour expression. Frankie moves away, chuckling nervously, “I uh… take it that the job didn’t go so nicely?”

Then, a THUD!

Jason’s head slumps onto the table - his face directed down, all the while he admits to his company, “Nothing’s been going nicely. Killed the bastard, but didn’t mean - then I just embarrass myself and get my fingers fucked over when I turn in the bounty. I didn’t even get a single cred for all that trouble. Seems like my luck has just about run out. Everywhere I turn to, everywhere I go… something goes wrong. Sometimes it feels like the universe is just making me out to be a joke. Sometimes… I just wish I weren’t me.”

“Now, come on Jason.” Frankie softly replies, lending a comforting hand upon Jason’s shoulder. “You ain’t unlucky. It's just some bad circumstances. You’ll pull through in no time, I’m sure of it.”

Jason tries to feel a little better, though by now it was a feat that felt harder to get over than any mountain along this cursed world. The reassurance does not last though, as a couple new guests come in through the back of the bar to join in for the night.

The two men were broad in shape, and both quite physically intimidating. One man was quite fat, with a big bushy, coal-black beard alongside a long length of hair from his pinkish head, and a slew of tattooed flames along his muscular arms. The other was far more fit and tall in appearance - white skinned and clean shaven, with dark blonde hair shortened to a buzz cut. His lower jaw jutted outward, often times showing a small row of yellowed teeth. Despite their differences, they dressed very similarly: black leather jackets; dark-red colored shirts with white horizontal stripes; brown, dirtied pants that tucked into their black boots. Each man had a knife prominently sheathed at their belts on one side, but the fatter one has a sawed-off shotgun in his hand.

Jason’s company immediately took notice of them, with Charlie quickly collecting his book back into the backpack while Frankie remains mostly still in his seat. Meanwhile, Jason was too mentally exhausted to even see them; he kept one hand one the ice and the other on the table, all the while groaning every now and then.

The Bartender also saw them - doing a table-take before moving himself away. As the two men slowly made their way to the trio, he observed carefully from where he stood.

Once the two men reached the others, the fit one of the pair looked over them with a brutish scowl - all the while his fatter friend circled over in a slow pace so as to flank the group. Frankie, nervous though smiling, tries being civil, “Hey there uh… friends. You needin’ something?”

Charlie wrapped his arms tight around his back, sticking extremely close to Frankie. The fit-bodied brute unclenches his jaw, cracking it as he adjusts it before speaking in a thick drawl, “Name’s Jessup, ‘friend’... and he’s Burk” He adds, nodding to his partner. “We here juss’ to be lookin’. No issue in’at, yeah? Juss’ a couple guys coming in for a drink is all.”

He leans close from where he stands, while his hands are kept to his side - very close to to his knife where it’s plainly seen. His mouth hangs crooked at times,with lips dipping down obnoxiously. Jessup continues, “Have been runnin’ down the road and back all nigh’ long. Going down the ways and makin’ our mark cross the dunes. We juss’ abou’ looking fer’ someone who’s causing us some problems up on ‘dere road. Wen’ in and murdered a friend of ours… and ‘den carried him off.”

A nervous chuckle escapes from Frankie’s lips, which he fails to contain as the goon Burk completes his slow round. The man gets closer to Jason, examining as best he could. Meanwhile Frankie insists, “Hadn’t seen anyone like that, sir. How do you even know your friend was killed anyhow? Maybe he ran off somewhere?”

Jessup doesn’t flinch or change his expression, instead adding, “Oh, we know he killed him. Supposed to come meet us back, and gave us some warning ‘case any problem were to come his way. ‘Course he never came back, so we checked on a bar he said he were goin’ for. ‘Course we found his body by ‘dere road - put away by his killer. Followed on over ‘tword’s dat bars he mentioned, and then soon enuff one of ‘dem squealed about who done it.”

He slowly rises back, cracking his neck and jaw as he towers over everyone. The knife by his belt tapped by his muscular hands, tense and ready. “Roughed up the owner pretty good - probably hurt his friends just as fierce, I reckon. ‘Ventually he gave a name and some general idea on where he gone on and fled. About put us through a good couple’a hours, but we got the run on the man. Man were described as a blonde, big fella - red bandanna ‘round his head, and got a vest ‘longside some goggles. Name were…. Jason Cross. That soundin’ familiar?”

Charlie was fiercely shaking in his seat, while Frankie had lost all the color and optimism in his face. The corners of Jessup’s lips curled up a bit upon seeing their reactions before he slowly turns his gaze right towards Jason. He asks with a soft intimidation, “Him, eh? Am I gettin’ right?”

Before either could answer, Jessup starts moving over. Frankie attempts to stop him by getting in front, but is quickly stopped when Jessup snatches his arms and slams the man against the table. Pinned, Frankie struggles as Jessup steals the man’s sidearm, keeping it away while his friend Burk makes his move. The Bartender can’t do anything to help, as Jessup aims the stolen gun right at the owner.

“Don’t be gettin’ any bright ideas, fella.” Jessup growls through gritted teeth. “We only wantin’ one dead man today, so don’t push us to make room for four. Keep yo’self out of our business if you know what’s good for ya’.”

All the while Burk holds up his shotgun, tapping Jason on the shoulder with a free hand while the gun was aimed. Jason stirs, looking lazily at the two as his mind starts to catch up on things. When he finally puts two and two together, he winces and groans, letting out a slow, tired, “Oh, damn it. It’s me, right? Of-fucking-course it’s me… it always got to be me.”

“Get up!” Shouts Burk, striking the butt of his shotgun at Jason’s back. Jason barely reacts, not even out of pain. His head is giving him all sorts of ringings and fog. It’s like an ongoing fireworks event is bouncing around in his head, and it ain’t letting up anytime soon. There’s enough awareness to get him to hold his hands up slowly, though he still groans in doing so.

“I’m coming, I’m coming… just give me a second ok?” Jason slurs in his remark. “My head’s a bit fuzzy.” He lightly shakes his head, not so much to push the intruders into making the problem any worse than it should. Afterwards, he suggests, “Mind we take this outside? I’d rather not die in a bar, personally speaking. I think that’s not gonna do me any favors for me after I’m dead.”

“No chance there, friend.” Jessup chimes in. “Boss wantin’ you dead. Right here, so nobody be goin’ and messin’ with us again.”

“Yeah!” Adds Burk, “So pipe down! Else, we make this a slow one.”

Jason blinked, his expression a mix of confusion, intoxication, and grumpiness. Some of it brought by the situation, part of it by the music. Just as his whole world was turning upside down; just when it seemed he was about to be done in at the worst possible way - the universe throws another wrench at the burning tractor that was Jason’s life.

Blaring from the radio like an insane bastard was about the worst song that could play at that moment: “Paraylized” by the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. It screeched with a mix of unintelligible lyrics screamed aloud, alongside a set of banging drums and cymbals. All that noise turned the fireworks in Jason’s head into a lineup of air horns playing simultaneously. It woke Jason’s sense quick, but at the cost of knowing that this song would be what followed him into the afterlife. If disappointment could kill, it would’ve done him away three times by now.

He held a finger up as he stared back between the music-player and the two goons. Then he begged, meaning it when he says, “Listen… if I’m dying, can I make one last request?”

Jessup pursed his lips, sighing gravely, “Yeah?”

“Please.” Jason pleaded aggressively, “Can I please change the song? I’ll die, alright, but it shouldn’t be to this. It can’t be to this. Anything but that piece of crap.”

All of them glanced towards the music player, to which even Jessup and his partner looked troubled at. Eye-twitching, it almost seemed heartless to make THAT the last thing for someone to hear before they die. After a moment he stepped aside, nodding to Burk to let Jason move ahead - though to keep his gun aimed still.

Slowly, on the death mark, Jason Cross makes his way to the player. He twitched and frowned at every incomprehensible shout from the singer, but prayed and gave thanks to the universe that - at the very least - he could change it before he died. For a moment he thought how easy it would be to run out through the hallway at this point, then out the back - but he knows that was his fear talking; were he to leave, it would only put his friends in danger in his stead. After a long, slow walk he made it to the music-player, studying it for a moment.

It was a neat little invention, inspired by the more modern techs made in the 21st century of the Old Earth. The player was a small rectangular box with a screen monitor that, when touched, would respond to the users action. It had a series of wires going into the walls, likely into the several speakers hidden throughout the saloon. The box was a brown color, to better match the area, but also dusted with age. The screen lit up past the dust, a sign that few ever come to change the music themselves. When Jason scrolled through the selection, he found it to be near infinite, thanks in part to the incredible storage this little box held. As he scrolled, he cycled through what music was available - as he couldn’t afford the time to be picky.

There were all sorts of songs, most of which had a country feel. There were variations of grunge, rock, and easy listening throughout the pre-selected library. Jason recognized some names: Eddie Arnold, the Larks, Dick Dale, along with some Van Morrison. He felt the clock ticking - he had to find something, anything.

If Jason Cross were to die today, he ought to die to something different.

He hovered his fingers to the monitor, closed his eyes, and picked a song at random.

Then, silence.

Nothing.

Soon, a screech - Jason’s ears perk and he cringes.

A guitar strums. The drums follow. There’s a beat that hits hard.

Jason’s eyes slowly open, and then his body eases. He turns away from the music player, and right there simply lets the music hit him. The lyrics come, sung by a dry voice that speaks of a rascal to be made dead. The song hits Jason in the way he needed, as if it woke him up - and pointed him on a path right back to those men.

For the first time in a long while, though he cannot say how, Jason felt good. A sensation crawls up his spine, and a light breathless chuckle erupts out softly.

The two men look confused, but Jessup is quick to shout in a pissed off tone, “Alright ‘den! Get on back ‘ere, Cross! It’s about time you died!”

Jason looks at them, and after a look around he slowly makes his way back. Being careful, he grabs something off the hallway wall and keeps it right close.

He moves further towards the two, stopping just right before them. Jason’s friends are unable to do much at this time, and the Bartender is just as stuck. His attention is immediately drawn to Jessup, whose lip twists into a grin - his bottom lip still sagging, enough to show his browned gums. Burk’s shotgun is aimed at the ready, and Jessup asks,

“Any final words?”

Jason doesn’t nod or shift for that moment, instead staring intensely right back at Jessup as he answers back, “Yeah…”

“...Draw.”

Quick as a flash! Jason flips his hands and produces a revolver, aimed right at Jessup’s throat. Both men were taken by surprise - the gun was too quick to register before it had already pinned close to his jugular. Jessup chokes a bit out of reflex, but he keeps his cool. He looks at Jason, right into his eyes - through the goggles he can see pure anger daggered right back with an odd greenish spark.

Rob is left surprised, holding the shotgun as he tries to get what had just happened. For a moment his eyes concentrate on the gun Jason’s holding.

“You be goin’ and making a big mistake.” Jessup scowls, spitting at his t’s and k’s.

Jason doesn’t give. He returns in kind, fierly. “I’ll be the fucking judge of that.”

Rob looks closer at the gun. He squints, and thinks aloud, “Is that a--”

SMASH! Shards of white porcelain and half-melted ice fall everywhere. Frankie is risen off his seat, holding a broken plate while all the other pieces are spread about or wedges into Burk’s head. The fat brute recoils in pain; the shotgun is lowered before it’s finally dropped.

Jason takes the opportunity, smacking the revolver upside the brutes head. Hard. Jessup falls to the side, also dropping the gun he’d stolen from Frankie before it slides far away.

Angry, Burk gets up and charges at Jason - he tackles him against the bar table and begins to lay down a series of heavy strikes against Jason’s face and body. Pinned down, Jason tries to fight back against the blows, by kicking against his fatter opponent. All the while the Bartender finally gets the chance to join in and tries to push Burk off Jason - as well, Frankie and Charlie try their best to smack at the man.

Not content with just punching, Burk ignored everything before pulling his knife from off his belt and goes for the stab.

The blade swings wildly, causing everybody around the two to step back to dodge. Burk’s hand raises high for the moment and he strikes down, landing a deep stab into the table - near Jason’s neck.

Jason keeps moving, but the man pulls and goes again for the kill - close enough to nick him on the cheek.

After a couple more swings, and a hefty shove to push everyone away, Burk slams the knife down. A hard scream is heard! Blood shoots up as the knife pierces Jason’s left shoulder!

It twists, and suddenly Jason’s adrenaline hikes up enough for him to launch the man away with a fierce kick - pushing him off and onto the floor.

Jason gets up, breathing harshly as his pained growls start to sound like a pained beast. He doesn’t have time to register the knife stuck on him, but instead his attention is immediately directed at the goon that put it there. Through the tinted goggles, all Jason could see was red.

Before Burk could even move an inch or utter a word, he’s quickly overcome by Jason - who starts to beat him with the gun he picked off the wall. Fierce blow after blow is unleashed upon the man, fueled by pure, unadulterated anger.

The others are frozen in terror. Jason goes mad with his beatings. With Burk on his ass and against the wall, there was nowhere to turn to to escape Jason’s pummeling. He’s beaten down by the gun; slammed in the face by Jason’s knee; his head kicked in by a downward stomp. In between the pain he could only catch a glimpse of how bull mad Jason was, and nothing more. Even when Jason loses his grip of the gun through the blood, he still keeps at it with his fist.

Blood splatters, against walls, tables, and chairs. The bar echoes with violent thuds and hectic breathing. Frankie, Charlie, and the Bartender watch Jason beat the man down - too shocked to get in the way. It’s hard, at this point, to even recognize the intruder’s face… or to know if he was even still alive at this point.

Meanwhile, as Jason keeps hitting, Jessup recovers and wakes from his blow. He spits some blood and a couple teeth onto the floor, before noticing the bloodied revolver that Jason struck him with - on the floor and within his reach. Struggling, he makes the grab and picks it up before aiming it right at Jason.

Jason finally notices, as does everyone else who all stare down at the grinning Jessup. Breathing hotly, and with his arms exhausted and blood-stained, Jason doesn’t do much, nor does he react strongly. All he does is look down at the injured brute aiming the gun.

Jessup lets out a pained laugh, with blood dripping off his lip. “All ya’ll are so dead. Every las’ fucking one of ya! Ain’t gonna be a soul alive once Boss Lars is done with you.”

He cackles and bleeds before pulling the trigger!

Nothing.

Not even a click.

His expression instantly sours into utter shock as he then turns the revolver - it is a replica. A fake.

Then he hears something getting picked off the floor. Looking up, he sees Jason holding Rob’s shotgun with one hand - aimed right at Jessup’s face.

Jason glares down at him, then, with barely restrained rage, states,

“I’d like to see you try.”

Click.

BANG! Ca-click, BANG!

The bar is showered by a large mist of blood. From where Jessup’s head once was, there is now only a mess of gore splattered all over the floor. Two walls are covered in blood and brain matter, and much of the bar table is colored in similar red. Trickles of it hit everyone, but not as much as it hits Jason.

Frankie, after a long pause of shock, lays against the table as he pants and wipes the blood off his face. He tries to look for his gun, but mentally puts that off for later.

Charlie stares on like a deer in headlights. He stands completely straight, as he looks on. Frightened, shocked… amazed, though he doesn’t say.

The Bartender is the least emotional or reactionary of them all. He takes a deep breath before slowly making his way to the back closet at the end of the bar.

Then there was Jason, standing there. A shotgun in one hand, and a knife wedged deep into his shoulder. He stands tough, breathing heavily as he finally has time to register all the wounds inflicted upon his face and body. It hurts, and it’s going to hurt even more.

As if on auto-pilot, Jason starts walking out of the saloon’s front door and doesn’t say a word. His friends take notice and start moving after him.

Right outside, the people of Blondie gather around the bar. They’ve since been woken up from the commotion in the saloon, and everyone from the craftsman, the traders, the local priest, the carers and the watchmen come to see what had happened. Even the Mayor has come out, dressed in his nightly finest, as he stands front and center along his people - men and women, young and elderly alike.

They had just come once the gunfire caught their attention, and were debating amongst themselves on who would be first to enter before they see Jason exit out from the building. They stand, shocked in seeing the bloodied Jason Cross walk out from the saloon - sporting a shotgun in one hand, and a knife jutting out his shoulder. Then, coming right after him was Frankie and Charlie, who both start to stare with uncertainty in what to do now. Frankie’s first instinct is to calm everyone, but he isn’t able to get a word in… not before Jason.

Crazed thoughts run through Jason’s mind alongside a constant ringing - a ringing that felt like it never left him, and he can’t remember a time where it wasn’t following alongside him to begin with. The pain is too strong, it’s catching up to his brain now. The drinking has finally come to the station, and it’s not kind to let the pain have its way on his senses. There’s nothing but noise, and through it Jason can only think sparse thoughts.

‘Can’t say my name.’

‘All I get is trouble.’

‘All my name brings is trouble.’

‘Have to say something.’

‘Have to say something now.’

‘Sometimes… I just wish I weren’t me.’

Jason drops the shotgun, and with that he then holds both his arms up as best he could. Then, with a crooked grin, he announces aloud, “People of Blondie. My name… is Frederick Cross… and I just saved the day.”

The crowd murmurs, and some look outright shocked. Shocked… and excited. The Mayor looks outright pleased.

Jason grins some more and chuckles, all before proceeding to fall backwards onto the unforgiving ground.

The last thing he sees before blacking out are the crowd of people coming to his body. As well, the concerned looks on both Frankie and Charlie’s faces.

The people of Blondie never stopped talking that night: of the man who saved their town from a couple of gun-toting hooligans, and the very name he bore.

Frederick Cross.

#CROSS #my writing #eyeofsemicolon #the5thsemicolon #semicolonthefifth #KRONOS #western #science fiction #sci fi

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unavenged-robin · 6 years

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Can you do the "why is the room spinning?" Prompt with Bruce and dick?

Crime doesn’t pay, but sometimes it gets lucky. Lucky enough to bring down the Batman, for example (which, although Bruce doesn't like to admit it, is not such an extraordinary circumstance as he would like) and sometimes even lucky enough to surprise him.

That’s what Bruce feels as he falls on his knees exactly five seconds later he steps out of the Batmobile: surprise. And, for the briefest moment, fear.

Not for himself - because god knows he’s forgot what’s like to be afraid for himself somewhere between his first and his second night wearing the costume - but for his children, for Alfred, for his friends. They already had to bury him once, and granted, sooner or later they will have to do it again, and hopefully in a more permanent way next time, but not so soon. Please, not so soon, Bruce thinks. Damian’s still only thirteen years old, he’s too young. And he needs to be in a better place with his other sons before saying goodbye to them. And hadn't Alfred promised that if Bruce ever dared to die again before him he would’ve resigned? He can’t risk that. His kids cannot survive without Alfred, just as Bruce would never have been able to.

Sound of running footsteps, a hand on his shoulder. Bruce could recognize Dick Grayson in the crowd of thousand others: his footsteps, his touch, his breathing, his heartbeat, Bruce knows all of them by heart. He knows those of all his children, but Dick’s were the first ones he’s learned after his own, and Bruce thinks he could maybe forget his own name, his own whole being, but not Dick. Never Dick.

“Batman?”, the voice comes out uncertain, like Dick thought Bruce may be playing a prank on him. Bruce did sometimes, way, way back, when he was younger and still optimistic enough to think that his children could not die, that he would always be there to protect them because that was his job, his mission, his everything. Protect the children, protect the innocents. No more Bruce Wayne in Gotham: that was the promise.

And then there was a Richard Grayson, and a Jason Todd, a Tim Drake, a Cassandra Cain. A Damian Wayne.

To fail so miserably, Bruce thinks, blind eyes behind the cowl.

“Batman!”, now there’s urgency in Dick’s yell. Good. There’s something Bruce needs to tell him, though. Something important but. Mouth and head both stuffed with cotton. Can’t think, can’t talk. He tries anyway, because fuck it, that’s why.

He grasps at every filament of consciousness that still remains to him, clenching teeth and fists and every muscle that still obeys him.

“Room”, he sighs after a flash of white pain makes him shake on the ground, and someone pushes his cowl backwards for the cold air of the batcave to caress his sweaty face.

Nightwing is yelling now, lots of words without meaning, and his hands are moving all over Bruce’s body, fingers pressing, checking, trying to find what’s wrong and how to fix it. It takes Dick a moment to stop and look down at him.

“What?”, he asks.

Bruce decides that he can put in a little more effort after all.

“Room. Spinning. Why”, he mutters with slow, careful precision, each syllable a snap of the tongue against the palate and yes, that was it, the important thing he had to say to Dick. Well, not in the right order and not with the proper tone, but his boys are all detectives, damn good detectives, and Bruce’s sure they can manage.

When he blacks out, a few seconds later, he’s not afraid anymore.

He wakes up to the sight of the familiar ceiling of his bedroom above him and to the noise of the constant beeping of his own electrocardiogram all around. He tilts his head to the side, certain to find the one he is looking for.

“You’re lucky I remembered”, Dick greets him, messed up hair and dark circles under his eyes. “You old, crazy bastard.”

Bruce tries to answer, ends up coughing. Dick sighs and helps him to a glass of water.

“Not lucky”, he retorts as soon as he’s sure he can speak without choking. “I knew- I knew you would remember.”

“There is literally no way you could’ve known that”, Dick objects, and he’s half amused and half pissed off by now. “I was what, nine, ten? Younger than Damian for sure.”

“Nine”, Bruce answers, because he remembers that night all too well. It was the first time he seriously got hurt on patrol with Robin in tow. It had been Ivy’s poison, just like tonight, and Bruce had been taken by surprise and collapsed on his knees in the Batcave, useless and scared for his Robin, just like tonight. In the midst of confusion and fear he’d been able to ask only one, immensely stupid question: why is the room spinning?

And Dick, nine-years-old Dick who had been patrolling with him for less than a month, who was already trying to drag him to the med-bay despite Bruce weighing four times what he did, nine-years-old Dick who was trying not to panic himself, had answered, in what Bruce had catalogued as a desperate attempt to reassure him: because we are on a carousel.

He laughs now as he’d laughed then, and Dick looks at him like he wants to swat him.

“You never let me live that one down”, he complains, but there’s a hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

“Because we are on a carousel”, Bruce repeats, still chuckling (must be the anaesthetics), and this time he does earn himself a swat, although a very gente one.

“Only you could use an inside joke to tell me that you were poisoned with nightshade toxins instead than, you know, actually tell me that you were poisoned with nightshade toxins.”

“Mh”, Bruce hums with a pleased smile, closing his eyes. “But it worked.”

“Yeah, it did”, Dick sighs. “But don’t tell that story to Damian, or next time I won’t save you.”

Bruce snorts and goes to sleep with the feeling of Dick’s hand in his hair.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #listen if you don't think that tiny dick grayson never tried to put an unconscious bruceover his shoulder we can't be friend #also bruce would never actually tell the story to damian but he did tell it to both tim and jason #when they had those 'I'm-not-as-good-as-dick' moments you know #because he's a good dad #Anonymous #asks #shari writes #my fic

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lightcomingthroughthedarkness · 7 years

Note

the 6 years is a comon rom trope,and it is not for keeping them apart not but to put them together,you will see next season(canon),besides all this promo is been to get the fandom ready we clearly had the 4x13 set up,the sizzle,i know you have 0 faith in jason,but cw have certain patterns to work with main couples they never wait to the last minute of the show,bellarke is gonna be est rel not stagnant,JR its fkn bastard who is been waiting to put them together as mature adult couple,have hope;)

See, this is why I usually try not to say anything, lol. Maybe it’s because english is not my first language so people misunderstand me. I should try and explain it better.

1. It’s not about having hope or not. I have a lot of hope. I’m “100 and 1, counting Bellamy Blake %” sure Bellarke is going to happen. I firmly believe that. Believe in Bellarke. This is the story they are telling. No other story. Clarke and Bellamy.

2. The groundwork for canon Bellarke is there for next season. It’s been building for 4 seasons. Just as plausible as it is that they will happen next season, it is also plausible that they will not. The separation could potentially mean that Bellarke will be pushed together romantically or it could mean it will push them apart. I wonder if perhaps it would delay canon. Again, this does not mean that I don’t think Bellarke will happen at all, it just means that I’m not sold on canon Bellarke next season. That’s why at the moment I’m not sure I believe it will be canon next season.

3. What Jason says in interviews, on twitter or what the cast say during conventions does not always equal confirmation of story. Some things do. Some things don’t. How the CW promotes a show does not actually mean anything storywise. The writers and Jason have no control over that at all. Promos, photos, clips etc do not come from Jason. The CW post things all the time in order to bait fans or get fans excited. Sometimes that allies with what the showrunner wants/is doing on the show but usually it’s out of their hands. This is why networks and especially those who run social media accounts aren’t always going to focus on canon. Obviously they can’t just make shit up, lol. Whatever will cause buzz, they’ll go for it. This is why The 100 twitter account tweeted about Bellarke all the time during s1/s2. Because Bellarke became so popular, it was a way for them to get publicity. So they ran with it. It was never about Bellarke. It was just business. Get shit running. Even when they tweeted Bob happy birthday they made it about Bellarke by calling him the prince to Clarke’s princess. I mean, jesus… when the show hit the shitstorm that was s3, suddenly the show didn’t need the buzz or frankly more drama. It was also a show that had been on the air for a few years so they backed off. Now, the network barely promotes the show at all. And when they do, it’s very Bellarke friendly indeed. They know there’s a fandom to get all excited. It’s great as a fan to see it but it doesn’t mean Jason has anything to do with it. (Just like EW had both BC/CL in that E!online poll. They don’t actually care about us. It was all for publicity/clicks because they knew our fandoms would literally fight. Same goes with network, whatever makes people talk/excited). That’s why I don’t take any of those things as confirmation of storylines. But I still enjoy it because it makes fandom life a little bit more fun.

4. I don’t particularly feel like Jason is writing a story any other way than his own way. CW shows/writers have had and still have a certain way to tell stories, I agree. However, while I think Jason tends to stay within certain parameters to that, I also think he does his own thing which is why The 100 has the success it has had. For example when it comes to relationships, no other relationship on the show has had it easy or stayed together. Thinking/wondering that maybe Bellarke would face the same fate, to me, does not sound unreasonable. He could write that. Or maybe he wouldn’t. And the fact that I’m not sure he’d treat Bellarke any differently than other canon relationships, makes me less inclined to believe canon Bellarke next season (for now).

5. I sometimes wonder if Bellarke is a “as long as this show is on the air, this relationship will remain unfinished” kind of story. And with that I mean, I could definitely see Jason drag Bellarke out for the entire series. They certainly put the groundwork down for it. It wouldn’t be unreasonable given the fact that they’ve already been doing it for four seasons. I can see canon Bellarke next season, of course (fingers crossed!!). But I can also see canon Bellarke at the very end or even leaving Bellarke ambiguously sort of unfinished. My point is, the way Jason has been telling the story of Bellarke, makes me believe in so many different ways this could end.

6. I cannot stress this enough. I’m just a random ass person on tumblr answering an ask and my opinion is no way the truth or represent what is actually happening or not happening on the show. This is my interpretation only. While I “100 and 1, counting Bellamy Blake %” am sure of Bellarke and will EAT IT UP if they become canon next season, I can also potentially see different ways it could go/end. Sometimes I like discussing it with others on tumblr. It’s also a way for me not to get stuck in my head. But my point of view is by no means “the way it is”. I just wish it wouldn’t be perceived as me being negative. I’m truly not. I just think about this show a lot and sometimes I get things right and sometimes I get things very wrong.

#bellarke #the 100 #ask answered

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addicted-to-dc · 7 years

Text

Jason Todd/Red Hood X Reader- Shakespearean Tragedy

Here’s the last request!!!! This was requested by @axa-vega and I had an awesome time writing this. Hopefully you guys will love it as much as I do. Enjoy!!

Warning: Alcohol, Swearing, mentions of abuse, etc

Throughout your years working at your bar, you had seen a lot of shady people come and go. Some of them were just common crooks that steal purses from old ladies, but some of them were actual super villains. They had to go somewhere to get booze, right? Luckily, they all knew that if they tried your patience and temper you would use your shotgun to restore order. Everyone that showed up in your bar knew the rules and abided them, even if they were law breaking scum. You had a shady past yourself, and that’s why you never turned in anyone that showed up. Two-Face, despite his anger issues, allowed you to call him Harv whenever he showed up. He said that you made the ‘best damn drinks in the city.’ After that, he ordered his favorite drink, the Penicillin, and left to join his business partners at table near the back. Harv was the most enjoyable out of all of the baddies showed up, and he tipped the best, too.

The Penguin was another supervillain that frequently stopped by to have the occasional Starstruck Goose Cocktail. Even he had a nickname from you, which was Chester, and he appreciated that. Everyone that was allowed into your establishment also appreciated what you do for them. You took in all of the kids you could that lived on the streets and let them live in the apartments that were above your bar. You even hosted karaoke nights, therapy sessions and even game nights. With kids present in the building, you wouldn’t allow the Joker to set a single foot in your bar. You had heard about how killed innocents, and he was lucky you hadn’t blown his deranged brains out. Another thing you were grateful for was your ability to sense if someone is injured or not, whether it be physically or mentally. You have helped so many kids that walked in bruised and battered from the abuse they went through, kids that were malnourished from not eating a single thing for days, or even a combination of the two. Many patrons were kicked out or turned in by you, if the crime was more horrific than you could handle. Your other customers would inform you of what someone did, and they would either deal with them themselves or let you turn them in, and when you did, you made sure that they would remain in jail for a long time. It happened more frequently than you liked, but it was necessary if your kids or any innocent was at stake. You admit that your morals were a bit fucked up, but atleast you had some type of leash on yourself.

“I’ll have the strongest drink you have,” a man while plopping down on a stool, “and have it mixed with the second strongest drink.”

Feeling the pain from the man behind you, you turned around, still wiping a glass clean, “Rough night, buddy?”

“More like a rough week,” the guy huffed out, running his fingers through his hair, which was an odd combination of raven hair with a white streak.

You turned around and started making his drink, “I hear ya, buddy. So, what made you come to a place like this?”

“I’ve heard a lot about his place,” he said, “and I thought it would be nice to find out where the rumors have come from.”

You continued to make his drink, “I hope they’ve been good things.”

He chuckled, “Some good, some bad.”

“I hope they don’t scare away customers,” you laughed, finishing his drink, and turned around. “Here you go, sunshine. Just so you know, the first drink is always free.”

You gave him a wink and leaned on the bar, “So what’s got you in the dumps? You don’t have to say anything, but the best way to get stuff off your chest is to do it before you’re drunk. Trust me, I speak from experience.”

He shook his head and chuckled again, “It’s just a sob story full of family drama, more drama, death, psychos and some stuff that would make my life look like a Shakespearean tragedy.”

“Wow,” you said, raising a brow, “I think I might need a drink for this, wait one second.”

You turned around and grabbed your glass of whiskey you kept for occasions like this. Placing the glass on the bar, you pulled your stool out from under the bar and sat on it.

“Aren’t you working?” he asked, taking a sip from his drink.

“I am, but I own this place, so I can decide when my break is, and it’s right now,” you replied, taking a gulp from your drink. “Plus I have Danny over there to cover for me. He’s not as good as me, but he could make some pretty delicious drinks.”

“You’re the owner?” he asked.

“Yup,” you replied. “What did you expect? A buff dude with tattoos littered all over his body?”

He snorted, “Of course not.”

You smirked, leaning your head on your hand, “Now quit changing the subject and continue your story.”

“Well,” he sighed, “how do I say this without revealing any personal information?”

You flashed him a smile, “How about you tell me something, and in return, I’ll tell you something about myself or you can ask questions of your own? Deal?”

“Deal,” he said and took another sip. “I came home to find the guy that killed me still alive, which my father did nothing about.”

“That’s a good reason to drink all of your sorrows,” you commented, gulping your drink. “You wanna ask me something or to say something completely random?”

“I’ll ask,” he responded. “How come you didn’t question me dying?”

You shrugged, “Many people flatline and come back, or maybe I’m not just an ordinary bartender and have seen a lot of shit that has caused me not to question things like this. You take your pick.”

“That’s reasonable,” he said while making a face. “So after I found out that bastard was still alive, I thought I could kill him and prove a point to my father, but his morals wouldn’t allow me to. In the end, he chose to save his life.”

“You’re right,” you said after a moment of silence, “this is some Shakespeare shit. You sure that we’re not in a spoof movie or something?”

“I hope so, if it means I get the girl,” he flirted, looking a little buzzed.

“If you say that I’m the Juliet to your Romeo I will punch you,” you stated jokingly.

“Nah, you’re the Beatrice to my Benedick,” he corrected you, making you laugh.

“I love a man that has good taste,” you continued laughing and finished off your drink. “Do you have a place to stay? I’ve got an extra room if you would like to stay for the night.”

“Why would you help a broken stranger like me?” he asked, also finishing his drink.

“Because broken people need to watch out for each other, and sometimes they can fix each other, unlike the booze that I sell.”

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc #DC comics #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader

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dapperfvck-arc · 7 years

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RULES. repost, don’t reblog. tag ten whatever. TAGGED BY: @hittcr TAGGING. fucking everyone

BASICS.

FULL NAME. John Constantine NICKNAME. The Laughing Magician, The Hellblazer, Conjob AGE. usually portrayed as mid to late forties BIRTHDAY. May 10 ETHNIC GROUP. caucasian NATIONALITY. English LANGUAGE. English, Latin, most dead languages tbh, a grasp of most major European languages, prolly some Infernal languages or whatever SEXUAL ORIENTATION. hella bi RELATIONSHIP STATUS. defaults as single, but also heavily verse/continuity dependent, practically married to Matt Murdock CLASS. unknown, tbh. Is generally portrayed as blue collar, working class (even though he’s never technically worked a day in his life) or even impoverished, however it has also been heavily implied that he’s got quite a little nest egg stashed away. HOME TOWN / AREA. Liverpool, England CURRENT HOME. verse/continuity dependent PROFESSION. Con artist, exorcist, paranormal investigator, human disaster

PHYSICAL.

HAIR. blonde EYES. electric blue NOSE. slightly crooked FACE. highly dependent on artistic license, though generally portrayed as having sharp features and a triangular face LIPS. sensuous COMPLEXION. very pale BLEMISHES. mostly just scars SCARS. one over an eye from a blade, heavy scarification over entire torso (see: tattoos) TATTOOS. a crude pictograph of an evergreen on a buttock (Swamp Thing is a punk bitch) and protection sigils and various occult symbology all across his torso in which the ink has faded and been rejected, resulting in them remaining as intricate scarification HEIGHT. 5′11″. WEIGHT. 150lb BUILD. rather thin, somewhat lanky, not unfit, but that can be attributed to walking a lot and yoga. Not built however. Very flexible FEATURES. scruffy good looks, great smile, trench coat ALLERGIES. none. USUAL HAIR STYLE. bedhead USUAL CLOTHING. dark blue or black suit and tie, trench coat, either black or tan (depending on artist), and oxfords, usually worn and scuffed

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR. It’s more related to those close to him, mostly of them dying because of him, drowning, leaving this world unaccomplished ASPIRATION. um. Not to lose complete faith in humanity? POSITIVE TRAITS. highly intelligent, forgiving in his own way, deeply compassionate to a fault NEGATIVE TRAITS. manipulative, cynical, duplicitous, somewhat self-serving VICE HABIT. smokes heavily, drinks, some drugs FAITH. it’s complicated GHOSTS? I meeeeeeaaaannnn...he’s basically a medium and can see and talk to them on the reg, sometimes without ever realizing he’s speaking with one AFTERLIFE? ALSO COMPLICATED. BECAUSE HE KNOWS FOR A FACT BOTH HEAVEN AND HELL EXIST???? ESPECIALLY HELL BECAUSE HE’S PRETTY MUCH TAKEN DAY TRIPS THERE FOR REASONS REINCARNATION? I don’t............think so? ALIENS? yes POLITICAL ALIGNMENT. extremely liberal ECONOMIC PREFERENCE. getting by SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION. none EDUCATION LEVEL. I think he dropped out of secondary school, never went to university. Self educated in the occult, among other things

FAMILY.

FATHER. Thomas (murdered) MOTHER. Mary Anne (deceased in John’s birth) SIBLINGS. an old sister (Cheryl), twin brother (stillborn) EXTENDED FAMILY. nice (Gemma), an unnamed aunt and uncle that took Cherly and John in when they were younger upon their father’s brief incarceration NAME MEANING. John, Yahweh is Gracious; Constantine, Constant, Steadfast, in Hellblazer canon, he’s referred to as The Constant One HISTORICAL CONNECTION. Heavily implied to be related to Constantine the Great

FAVOURITES.

BOOKS. Mostly prefers nonfiction MOVIES. documentaries, mostly, though he finds most films to be painfully predictable. Likes Hitchcock tho. MUSIC. punk rock and other rock genres DEITY. lol nope HOLIDAY. nah MONTH. October SEASON. fall PLACE. London or New York, it’s a coin toss WEATHER. Cool but not too cold, overcast SOUND. comfortable silence SCENT. fresh pure beer, burning tobacco, citrus, juniper, whiskey TASTE. a lover’s sex sweat, the first cigarette of the day, top shelf whiskey and gin, curry FEEL. skin on skin, a comforting bed ANIMAL. fox NUMBER. I don’t do numerology man COLOR. attracted to neutral tones

EXTRA.

TALENTS. ritual magic, some artistic talent, manipulation, sex BAD AT. self care, sleeping, opening up to people TURN ONS. confidence, a strong body and mind, all shapes and sizes of women, honestly so so much TURN OFFS. blondes and sexual violence HOBBIES. reading, drinking, and trying to be happy TROPES. paranormal detective, urban magician, asshole with a heart of gold, human disaster, charming bastard, infamous con artist AESTHETICS. old books, smokey pubs, wind-swept streets, the witching hour, incense burning, rumpled bed sheets, coffee and cigarettes, freshly turned earth, occult sigils

FC INFO.

MAIN FC. Ewan McGregor ALT FC. - n/a OLDER FC. - lol maybe Sting if I ever go with his proper “canon age” YOUNGER FC. - Ewan McGregor (cos he’s been in the biz for years, man and I got plenty of material to work with) VOICE CLAIM. Jason Statham

#;about

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bigbadwolf619 · 7 years

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Bheriya Smokes/Tawagoto

Age: 48 (Physically looks 21 as she does not age)

{Bheriya: The Ladies love it}

Race: Wolfman/Demigod

{Bheriya: hey don’t mention the God part}

Gender: Male

{Bheriya: You better believe it}

Occupation: Supernatural Hunter/Hired Pirate/Wrestler/Demon Hunter/Mercenary/Universal Hunter

{Bheriya: Does being a sexy dog count?}

Personality: Overconfident, cocky while being a big womanizer, tends to make out with many attractive dangerous women of different races, especially ones he rescues, loves to fire guns of many types, especially his 2 special gun, can be sadistic towards his enemies in fights, doesn’t take life seriously and tend to joke around, quick to anger especially when drunk with Devil’s Rum, loves Remnant for having so many attractive women of different type, even evil ones, he is actually very honest for a killer, loves to get paid and then have sex with women, most of the time does not react to his pain if he gets impaled or hurt as he just walks it off quite quickly while regenerating, gets excited if an attractive woman attacks him and teases them dodging or blocking, falls for Queen Alpha and doesn’t care about her status, dislikes Kurai but cares for her as a sibling, respects Muetre for his power and strength along with his sly ways, even as a killer he is very smart and knows many languages thanks to Muetre and Gus, talk to his imaginary wolf a lot who somehow came to reality so others can hear and see while able to pet him, doesn’t care if the racist term “doggy” or “dog” is used on him, hates his other 6 half-siblings, hates his Father Rougarou the Wolf God

{Bheriya: Eh he was a dick anyway}

Skills/Power: As a Wolfman, Bheriya possesses claws and agility as well as good hearing and sniffing like his kind , but as a Demigod he has many powerful abilities along with being physically super strong and nearly invulnerable regenerating body that most of the time cannot take damage and when he does take damage he mostly shrugs it off as if it was nothing and carries on attacking, he can actually tear time and space and pull out a crazy weapon out depending where he is, it is actually random whatever he pulls out, even he doesn’t know what he is pulling out but does so anyway, Bheriya can move really fast while able to take on any punishment, his power lets his body generate thunder whenever his angry, he has knowledge on the Devil’s Tongue and can speak in it to cause destruction, Bheriya also knows curses and Reaper abilities thanks to Muetre, he can tear an enemies soul out with his bare-hand, use Reaper Vision to see into the past or little of the future, of an area or someone, Reaper Storage where can store anything in another realm and summon when he wants to, Reaper Travel that lets him click his fingers to instantly teleports wherever he wants to go, his greatest power is his Wolf God form which makes him take on the form of a dark wolf that changes appearance randomly whenever he triggers it, something it would be bigger or smaller, sometime it has extra limbs or can even cover the whole sky, he has the ability to summon many spiritual wolves to aid him and when he howls to the Moon he will become stronger and more wild with his senses enhanced, he has the ability to copy the powers and weapons of his enemies he kills quite like Megaman/Skillfully he can uses both blades and guns while able to withstand their effects as Gabriel’s Rage was so powerful in destroying in it’s shot that it could tear the users arm off, but Bheriya’s strength can withstand it, Joker’s Laugh drives the user to insanity making them laugh so much, but Bheriya’s already insane nature makes him already adjusted with the SMG, Bheriya is very skilled in using in Hooksword which he can duplicate and throw many times as he wants, he can even enlarge the blade to huge or small sizes, this isn’t the blades ability, it is actually Bheriya doing this somehow

{Bheriya: Why have 1 when you can have 100?}

Weapons/Tools: Many supernatural firearms Gus has made for him, Gabriel's Rage Handgun that can decimate a target or object, Joker’s Laugh SMG which starts off weak but then gets stronger from continuous shooting shredding through the enemy and objects rapidly, this depends on the users sanity, if the are mad then the SMG is stronger, the Hooksword Bheriya took from 1 of his Slavers which are used to torture and discipline Slave Wolfmens, he has 2 on him usually as he can duplicate the blades, he has weapons that he also collected from the Demon Lords and Devils he killed along with other enemies

{Bheriya: If you can do it in video games, why not real life?}

Backstory: {Bheriya: I’m narrating my on Bio here, Ahem...}

I'm Smokes, Bheriya Smokes, before I became a badass or the member of Smokes Enterprise I was a slave, like every other Wolfman, in Ravage Wolfmens were common, nothing like Remnant or fuckin Conton, there were also Gods, 5 Gods to be exact who watched over the world and made sure Hell remained closed, though they weren't really Gods they were seen as that as the real God the Creator was basically the "do your owns shit while not helping sort of guy", but besides that the world, was alright, had nothing to worry about...well 500 years ago anyway, something happened, it wasn't only Ravage, but other worlds

Though Ravage got most of the shit put on it, most of the Gods were somehow killed by an unknown force, only 1 survived, the Wolf God Rougarou, but because the Ethereal World was destroyed he could not use his full-power, so he went mad and sort a vessel to use so he can use his power again, to do this he would need to plant his seed in a poor woman's womb to have a child to take over, but to be sure this works, he raped 7 women, 1 had me, her name was Yorokobi from the East, a woman of the Church a pretty woman...but a bitch, I mean I can't blame her she got raped by a mad dog, out of anger and being kicked out of the Church for having me, she threw me away and I ended up in a Slave Camp of Wolfmens Now the reason why the Wolfmens were getting all the shit was because the God that supports a.k.a the asshole Father of mines was causing trouble and they blamed us for the shit he's done, assholes

Because of that we were hunted or enslaved, we were all scared and weak...well except me, I was rebellious, our slavers were 3 Orc Lords, Jason, Grayson and Mason had as builds stuff for them and lift away things, we were only given rest if we did a decent job, we'd get tortured if we did not do well, when the Orcs found me they named me Tawagoto and to all you Japanese folks you might know what that means, I use to try to escape or not listen, so I use to get most of the punishment, this carried on for 10 years of my life, yet I wasn't scared, at all, just pissed, during that time a voice in my head started talking, and I saw a Wolf made of black smoke, he talked to me and made me feel better, I realized he wasn't real after a while, but that didn't matter

I was still there doing shit, I couldn't take it anymore, the cruel treatment, seeing your own kind killed and raped in front of you, it was driving me insane, so I tried escaping again, but once again that bastard Orc Lord Mason got in the way and because he was a fat muthafucker, he was strong but this didn't make him slow, he beat my ass again but said instead of taking me back that he would kill me instead Of course that failed miserably as my anger and desperation woke something inside of me, I saw Wolf again, I thought he couldn't do anything but he somehow bit Mason's leg and not only that Mason is able to see him, I thought I lost my mind and seeing things, but he tells me "Do it! Do it now!" I wondered what he meant before my hand transformed into a dark monster like hand and I slashed the bastard's eye out, while he was in pain I ran as fast as I can in the distance and cried in joy being free finally

I had no idea what happened to me but I broke out after all those years, after that I came to the City of Jibana, the place they claim God watches over, yeah right, he's pretty much left this world to rot what with the Demons broken loose and some living casually in the criminal underworld, sadly the Apartheid was here too and no one liked seeing a Wolfman civilized, so bad that some kids started chasing me for no reason and wanted to kick my ass, I ran but ended up in a dead end, I told them to leave me alone then they end up beating the living shit out of me, 1 even had a bat smashing my skull, they pissed me off so much that my Monster side woke up again and I shredded all those little shits up, now I know how Lucy feels, I ran from there and saw what I'm able to do, this sort of made me more crazy...but happy at the same time I realized with this power I can kill those who wrong me, I picked up a pipe as back up while trying to Master my power, I then went on killing people who tried getting at me, I even killed slavers and rescued some of my kind, of course this meant that the heat would be on my ass

The Order noticed my activity and wanted to stop me, to be honest I was kinda scared, these guys were the hunter of beasts I knew these dicks would be too strong for me, but trying to escape them was impossible, in the end I had to fight them head on with my lead pipe and claws, I managed to beat them and kill them, then put their heads on spikes to spread the word of me, after that I became known as the Butcher of Jibana killing any fools getting in my way, but the Order didn't give up in hunting me and sent their living weapons the Silver Maidens, a bunch of woman who all seem to be attractive, likely because the woman in charge of their transformation was a desperate lesbian or something, they are fused with powerful Demon Blood becoming the ultimate killing machines in Jibana, once they attacked me I thought I could beat the easily...how wrong I was

The girls turn out to be a challenge for me as I take them all on with their speed, strength and power combined, they weren't messing around, I got badly hurt but it only just pissed me off to the point that I started to kick their asses hard, I managed to overpower them but 1 of them went berserk and became an Awakened Being, I nearly got killed but my Wolf side just made me go crazy and I defeated her with my power, this stopped her healing and weakened her, I then shouted to the citizens that Jibana is mine and that no one could mess with me, no one Jibana then became my playground, I could do whatever I want and no one could stop me...except him

The man with the hat, smokes every minute with a cigar that smells like death, Muetre Smokes, during 1 of my time messing around I raided a shop and killed some people while the others ran off, I ate all their stuff and gave some to Wolf too since he was my only friend then, but when I was having fun, in comes the old man himself, it turns out that the Order couldn't actually beat me, so they got him instead, I attacked but only managed to scratch his arm, the old man was tricky and after an intense battle, he beat my ass, I then couldn't take it anymore and waited for him to kill me, but he instead offered me something, offered me a job

After a while I accepted when he mention I could be a free citizen and that I will be treated equally like everyone else, it sounded like bullshit to me but it was either accept that or be put down like a common dog, after being known as dead and renamed to my sexy name the ladies know me by, Bheriya Smokes, during my time with the old man I met up with that blood bitch Kurai, the daughter of Vlad who I hear was the big time of Ravage but got his ass handed to him by Muetre, I hear that Vlad scared Heaven and Hell so I wondered how the old man killed him and how he kicked my ass easily, I was trained by him and overtime I started to understand how to use firearms and other weapons, made by Muetre’s Engineer Gus who never shows his face, he might be fuck ugly but damn the stuff he makes is crazy, I hear her can make things in his sleep

At first I sucked, I sucked badly at my jobs, my first job was in the world of Remnant where I was suppose to find a Demon posing as a Huntsman in their world, bastard was skilled and kept cutting me up but thanks to my rage I barely managed to kill him, this was too crazy for me, when I did a job in Ravage I was attacked by another Silver Maiden but this 1 was actually tough and powerful so bad she nearly killed me by cutting off my head, I thought it was over but I wake 2 weeks after back in my new home with my head fully regenerated, Muetre had been waiting for me to wake up to say that I was fuckin up, so he said he will join me in a job, the job was to kill the 3 Orc Lords Jason, Grayson and Mason

Something in me pulsed, I felt excited, I was gonna murder the bastards who made my life a living Hell, after getting ready we went to the La Vanille Manor, the Master of the place was a half-human and half-demon named Joie Vanille who own many Wolfmen slaves as workers and maids, the prick had 10 Wolfman women dressed as maids around him all bowing at us, he found it weird that I wasn’t walking around in chains, Muetre explained to him that I was a citizen and I was his adopted son, which he found funny, a dog let off his leash, but after negotiating, Vanille had 1 of his maids show me around the barn behind the Manor where the other Slaves are, I waited for Muetre while he was talking with that dick, I then asked where the 3 Orc Lords were and the maid showed me

I saw them all, doing their usual, Jason the eldest of the brothers and the brains, he usually tortures his slaves to the point where they want to die, he breaks them badly, I would know because I’ve seen the shit he’s done, especially to me, Grayson, the middle brother who usually forced the Slaves even if they’re exhausted or tired he’d make them carry on or kill them brutally, the last and youngest 1 of them Mason, the dick who’s been tormenting me the most, being the strongest of them he usually crippled the Slaves, especially those who tried to escape, I can see the scar I gave him when I escaped, I saw Jason do the usual and attempted to rape Slave that tried to escape, I still remember what he said to me during my torture, “The only thing you will know is pain and agony”, I confronted him

While Jason pulled his pants down I called him out asking if he remembers me before I pulled out a little gun Gus put in my watch and fired at him, it wasn’t any ordinary gun, once it goes in you, you’re already dead, but before he died I said to him, “The only thing you will know is pain and death” before he bursted like a bloody balloon, Mason came out and saw me, because the gun was a 1 shot, I ran out, but I wanted to face him head on, we fought each other and he cut my pipe but I used the cut pieces to stab his knees and took his Hooksword and started cutting him up with it while smiling, it was the best moment of my life, finally payback, then I took his gun and shot his head off killing him, panicking that dick Grayson tried to escape with his bike, but I couldn’t fire at him since the gun at poor range but then I saw Graysons torso get shot off clean, I see behind me that Muetre shot him, of course the douche Vanille wasn’t happy with what we did but Muetre clicked his fingers and we disappeared

I finally felt clear and happy, they say revenge won’t make you feel better, but I felt fuckin great, after that I wanted to get better, I wanted to get stronger, so over the years Muetre has had some old friends show me how to fight, use a gun, know how to use weapons, he even tutored me shit you learn in school, taught me how to be charming, well I can be charming, in my own way if you know what I mean, he taught me how to speak and interact with people along with making me learn many languages just in case our client was foreign, I hunted many bastards down and done many jobs, I started making a rep for myself, becoming the Big Bad Wolf

During my time as a teen, my visit to the strip club when Muetre had to do talk with owner was great, I was glad a Demon was gonna attack the place because during Muetre’s meeting with the client I was kept company by many girls of different races, even Faunas, they showed me many great things and because of that I just love hot babes regardless of what race they are, so long as they’re sexy it’s fine by me, I’ll go for 1 that might try to kill me while looking gorgeous, sexy times are the best time for me, along with killing and getting paid

I found the bitch that cut my head off when I was younger, she actually had my old head on her wall, I was still pissed for that fight, so I fought her 1 more time and boy was she surprised when I ended up mutilating her ass, it was so satisfying, especially when her bravado broke, I didn’t hate the Silver Maidens after that, in fact that 1 I fought and went apeshit actually managed to turn back human, Muetre cured her when she had to be contained out of hospitality, in return she chose to become our maid, I kinda felt guilty for what i did to her by cutting her arm off, so I said to her that if she ever needed me I’ll be there to back her up

1 of my missions involved me saving a newborn baby from a sacrificial ritual in Yharnam (yes the Bloodborne world, I have been there too), but this was no ordinary baby, oh no, it was a humanoid squid baby, no-no I’m serious, I’m not bullshitting you, I mean he was kinda cute but annoying as hell, very clingy, he seem to like me so much and he kept wrapping around my head and you can imagine how much of a pain it is to shoot while that’s happening, I had to protect the little bastard, but was it over when I got him back home? No, the client then paid us to babysit the little bastard until he grows up, apparently he is a Deity, a newborn God meant to take charge of Ravage and fix it, but the problem was he only becomes 1 year older every century, so you can imagine how long he’ll be with us...fuck

You guys wonder why I hate my Dad so much right, not only did he abandon me and Mum and got her to dump me, not only did he make the Wolfmens take all the shit, he tries to fuck me over, you know how? He finds me doing a job and then tries to take my body away! The only reason he wanted to have us was he needed a vessel because unlike him, me and my half-brothers and sisters can use our power without the Ethereal Realm, because of that I hated him so much that I wanted to kill him myself and 1 day I will!

But just when you think that’s the only bad shit happening, what happens next, I get Satan interested in me, because he recognizes my Dad’s power in me, he thought that he could use me to take over Heaven, but everyone he has sent to take me has been killed by me and sent back, 1 day I was visited by my Mother who wanted to start over, she said that her insanity made her do wrong things, apparently she had another child and wanted me to join the family, but after everything I was thinking about it and after while I kinda accepted, a dumb move but I did, i told Muetre I’d retire and finish, surprisingly he was calm about it and let me off

Before I went to my Mum’s new place I was ambushed by the Demon Lords who wanted to take me to Satan, but I killed every last 1 off them, however this was actually a distraction as they actually were targeting my Mother and baby Sister’s home, I panicked and tried to get there in time, but they were butchered and killed, even after my Mother dumped me, I still got enraged for what they did to her and my sister, I was told who was responsible, a Vampire named Edward Black, after that I searched for the fucker causing a rampage around Ravage

After months of searching I found his place and wrecked it killing and butchering his army and guards, then we fought each other, he was a tough bastard and actually gave me a hard time but I ended up mortally wounding him, oh so I thought, it turned out when his blood spilled on me, it actually took control of me, he had me shoot myself with my own gun and then sent me to Hell, that dick set a trap on me, I later woke up trapped with the Chains of Judas, I couldn’t use my power or strength, Satan had his bitch Tormentum torture me until I swore to serve the bastard to help him raid Heaven, this carried on for weeks but it felt like years, I was losing my mind and getting crazy while resisting, I was even talking to Wolf in my head to calm me, but that wasn’t enough

I then realized destiny and fate can really fuck you over, that it can mess with you if it don’t like you, eventually I thought, fuck fate and fuck destiny, this is my life, I can do whatever I want my way, Chains that drains my power, fuck it I don’t need to abide by the rules or follow logic, I got so pissed that I broke out of my chains and became a Wolf God, using my new form and power I caused a rampage in the whole of Hell and killing many Demons including that bitch Tormentum, after turning back I wanted payback and hunted Satan within Hell, in the end and I found him and after our intense fight and when he tried to use the Godkiller on me, I managed to beat him and murder the son of a bitch, I took his gun and his Chariot, which turned into a Monster Truck for me and got me out of Hell

Muetre was actually waiting for me outside knowing I’d kill Satan and win in the end, after that I joined him again and started to hunt more and more, years passing by I was known by my rep and killed so many fuckers that I have the 2ND highest body count on Ravage, close to Muetre’s, after some time Kurai got kidnapped by her Uncle and the bastard that set a trap for me, I went to confront myself and save Kurai, I found Black and finally killed him, after that I became known in the other worlds too, this wolf wasn’t going to die anytime soon, badass in the hunt and sexy for the babes, oh yeah, Awooooooo!

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itispossibleihaveissues · 7 years

Text

This Night - Chapter 3

TITLE: This Night AUTHOR: Mikimoo RECIPIENT: tristen84 PAIRING: JayDick RATING: Mature WARNINGS: Off screen Non-Con, murder of innocent young people, violence SUMMARY: The Red Hood and Officer Grayson are on the same case. A small misstep has far reaching consequences for them both.

Chapter 1, 2

Gunfire echoed down the passageways, but Jason kept his pace slow and careful – no use getting them all killed if he could help it. They were close to the command center now, only a few winding corridors away.

The scuff of a boot warned him of the ambush up ahead – they weren't the only ones who were being more cautious. Jason held out an arm and Ruiz obediently stopped. Her face looked grim in the dim lights of the generator. He pointed her to the opposite wall, and she went – it was so nice to work with someone who could take and understand orders.

How to break the ambush though? They had no cover except for the angle of the intersection, and between himself and Ruiz they had a very limited amount of ammo.

Jason crept as close as he dared, he couldn't risk looking around the corner, but without doing so he couldn't be sure if they were aware of him or not. If they weren’t, then surprise might be the only ace they had. But if they did know, and were waiting with their fingers on triggers, any attack would be short, pointless and probably fatal.

Jason kept quiet and listened. There was shuffling, tiny scuffs, the clink of weapons against belts. Then the crackle of a radio, “Situation contained,” the barely audible, and tinny sounding voice said in Spanish.

Jason grit his teeth. Was the 'situation' Dick? And if so, what did contained mean?

“Can you get us a visual?” One of the guards replied in the same language.

“Negative, visual off line,” the crackly voice replied. Then there was just more static.

“Dammit!” Another voice said, this one in English, with an American accent, Jersey probably. “There could be dozens of them down here, why are we fighting blind? Lets get topside and then just smoke the bastards out.”

“Shut up!” the first guy said, in English.

“I didn't sign on to get picked off like this!” Jersey said.

Jason guessed he was new to this game - the waiting and watching part seemed to be getting to him.

“Get back to your place or I will shoot you!” First guy didn't seem impressed, or like he was someone to be messed with.

“Fuck you!” Jersey replied loudly, and then stepped right out into Jason's line of sight. “Shit!” he shouted and raised his weapon.

Well, there went the element of surprise. Jason shot the guy between the eyes and was running back to the relative safety of the previous passage before the body had even hit the floor.

Gunfire ricocheted down the corridor behind him. Jason shot the occasional round, just to keep them from advancing, but in truth it was a only a matter of time until they were overwhelmed, and both sides knew it.

The men arranged themselves at the opposite end of their hiding place. First guy shouted, “You are surrounded! Come quietly and I'll let you live!”

“Fuck your living!” Ruiz yelled from behind Jason, “You come at us and I'm going to kill as many as I can before I go down!”

Jason nodded, and checked his ammo again. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Officer Ruiz.” He raised his voice, “Come get us, you shitheads!” Beside him he felt Ruiz tense and brace herself to shoot. She seemed like someone who knew what she was doing and Jason trusted her to know her business. They were out gunned, out numbered and out manoeuvred. But like Ruiz said, if he was going to die here, he was going to take down as many of these fucks as he could.

“I only have a handful of bullets left,” Ruiz whispered. “I guess you have similar issues?”

“Yeah. We can’t hope to hold them off for long, not when they’re so heavily armed. We might do best to save our bullets and see if we can get them to come to us.”

“Pretend we have run out? Sounds like our only option.”

They stopped shooting and waited. Time seemed to stretch, each breath Jason took sounded loud as a drum to his ears. A peak around the corner using the reflection in his blade, showed men creeping towards them, not long to wait now. He figured he could take out at least half of them, before one of them got a lucky shot.

Then they heard a strange clattering sound echoing up the corridor. It was hard to tell where it came from and Jason risked another quick glance at the approaching guards, they looked as confused as he was. They were starting to turn towards the sound when there was a sudden rapid shower of bullets, aimed low and striking a number of men in the legs and knees. Those that didn't fall in the first assault turned to return fire. Jason didn't know who was shooting, but they were his only chance.

“Cover me!” he shouted to Ruiz, and rolled into the center of the passageway, this might be their only hope and he was going to give it all he had. As Jason came out of his tumble he took aim and fired; all headshots - this totally counted as self-defense. He didn't see if he hit his intended targets as he was already moving, but he was aware of Ruiz in position behind him as he fetched up against the far wall.

The clattering intensified, and Dick-motherfucking-Grayson suddenly shot past the opening to the corridor. He was sitting on the damn swivel chair, travelling at an impressive speed and firing an Uzi at the rapidly dwindling guards.

Jason blinked. A very welcome, but also very strange sight. The chair notwithstanding, Dick firing a semi-automatic nearly short circuited Jason's brain. But it only startled him for a moment and he quickly shot at the fallen guards who looked like they might still be thinking of turning a weapon on them. Because of course Dick hadn't done the sensible thing and killed the fuckers, he had been shooting low, aiming at feet and lower legs. Stupid, impractical suicidal Bat training. Jason seriously wondered how Bruce would feel about one of his favored children getting killed for following the rules. When shooting to kill would have been the only option for survival. A part of him was morbidly curious; he wanted to see Bruce struggle with that.

But not at the expense of Dick's life, obviously.

He rushed back into the moment, his gun was almost out of ammo and he had to focus on the now, not on his damn Bruce Issues. Dick was still wearing his nightvision-underwear goggles, so Jason used two precious bullets to shoot out the lights, leaving them in darkness. The sound of groaning and screaming from the downed men became suddenly oppressive – even though they deserved to die, the sounds of suffering was always horrific to hear. He wondered how Dick felt having caused most of it. Sometimes death seemed cleaner.

Jason jumped as he felt Ruiz grab his sleeve. “Now I can't see!” she growled, there was no heat in it though, and Jason figured she could see the practical side of the darkness.

“Hold my belt,” he told her, as he pulled what remained of his goggles down over his eye. Then he stepped forward, picking his way around the fallen men, Ruiz following close enough behind him that she trod on his heals a few times.

They reached Dick, still in his swivel chair without catching a stray bullet, which was Jason's main concern. Even through Jason's shitty night vision goggles Dick looked a state, he was sweating and bloody, and breathing a bit unsteadily. He had the nerve to grin at up at Jason when they approached.

“Hey, Jay,” he said.

“Don't 'hey Jay' me, you asshole!” Jason bit out, letting all his fear flow out in a beautiful river of rage, “I thought you were fucking dead, you piece of shit!”

“Sorry, I couldn't get the comms back online, I could only use the walkie-talkie I took off one of the men.”

So it had been Dick telling them the situation was contained, clever but still infuriating. He opened his mouth to give him what for when Ruiz jabbed the muzzle of her empty gun into his back. “Can we do this later?” She asked, incredulous frustration coloring her voice.

“I'm so glad, you're alright,” Dick told her, warmly, “I was really worried.”

“Worried? Do not give me your 'worried', Grayson!” Her grip on Jason's belt had tightened to the point of being uncomfortable and her gun was still digging into his back with her increasing frustration.

“I'm fine,” Dick told her, apparently picking up on the source of her anger.

“You are not! And what was that? Do you think you are an action movie hero?”

“My leg gave out, I didn't have much of a choice!”

“The leg you got shot in! Why did you come back, you fool!”

Jason surprised himself by laughing. “As much as I am enjoying Dick getting a tongue lashing, you had a point when you suggested we do this another time and get the hell out of dodge.”

Ruiz made an aggravated noise but fell silent.

“Which way?” Jason asked.

“We should take the east corridor, it’s longer but we just took out the group that was supposed to be covering it, so it might be safer.”

Jason grabbed the back of the swivel chair, ready to push. “You know which direction east is? I'm so turned around I can't tell my ass from my elbow.”

“Head to the left,” Dick said, “I memorized the passageways, so I think I know where we are.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I think. I've been shot and tortured and I'm running a fever! I can't be completely sure!”

Ruiz made another aggravated noise, “My three year old has better concentration that you two!” She said, conveniently forgetting her own angry tirade minutes earlier. “Lets move.”

“Why is everyone picking on me?” Dick complained, “I've been shot, you should be nice to me.”

Jason ignored his attempt to lighten the mood, more concerned at the slight slur to Dick's words, so instead of answering he just grunted and started to push the chair. It made a lot of a noise on the concrete floor, but it was better than carrying Dick. Jason could feel his own body flagging. Too little sleep, too little food, too much action and too much adrenaline.

And the fear was still there. They had a long way to go before they found safety.

Despite the shitty odds, they made it back to the surface, but they stepped clear of the bunker with a mixed sense of relief and apprehension. The chair would no longer be of use to them, and Dick was not in good shape, walking was going to be a struggle. What's more, they could hear sounds of pursuit picking up behind them. Three wounded people plus a slightly battered swivel chair made pretty obvious tracks, and it would be very clear where they had entered the jungle.

Without being asked, Ruiz grabbed Dick's other arm and together she and Jason hauled him off his seat. He leaned his head against Jason's shoulder for a moment, before forcing himself up and putting as much weight as he could on his leg. He nodded and they started moving as fast as they could.

It was not very fast.

There was no way they were going make it anywhere close to the rendezvous point, that was immediately obvious. For a start, following the path was their only option, as hauling Dick through the undergrowth was not going to work. That meant that the bad guys would also have a nice clear trail to follow and could easily lay an ambush up ahead.

“Okay, Stop,” Dick said, breaking into Jason's own thoughts. “This isn't going to work.”

“Not much choice, Grayson” Ruiz growled, trying to tug him forward.

“There is. Hear me out,” Dick said, as Jason opened his mouth to speak. “We go on like this they'll catch us. We can’t reach help, and we can’t fight them. We have to be smart if we want to live.”

“I'm not going to like this am I?” Jason asked, already resigned. What ever it was, he was going to have to listen, as he was all out of other options.

“Probably not,” Dick agreed, “but it's the only possible way I can see for us to all make it.”

“Okay, hit me with your cunning plan, Dickie. I'm braced for impact.”

“You're going to have to leave me-”

Jason was expecting that. “Nope, not happening.”

“Yes, happening! I'm not asking you to leave me to die, I'm asking you to hide me and draw them away.”

When put like that, Jason could see a glimmer of sense. “Go on.”

“Lets find a spot with good cover, and I’ll hide. They’ll follow you, as you will be leaving tracks whether you want to or not. But with out me holding you back you can move faster, you can get off the path and outrun them. Then when you meet up with whoever has bought our contract, you can come back for me.”

“If anyone has bought our contract and if it’s not someone who will kill us on sight!” Jason said. But when it came down to it, Dick was right; this was the only option where they could all come out alive. And it was one he would have insisted on if he were in Dick's position.

He didn't have to like it though.

“You can’t be serious!” Ruiz burst out, suddenly, “You come back for me, a stranger, but then abandon your friend? I won't do it!”

“I don't think I can make it alone if we’re ambushed” Jason said reluctantly. He could move faster, sure, but if they were attacked having Ruiz and her extra few bullets might be essential. Leaving her with Dick served no useful purpose. “This is the best way. I don't like it any more than you do, but I know Dick, he can do this.”

Dick nodded, his bruised face looking so earnest it made Jason slightly queasy. But under that expression there was Nightwing’s steely determination.

Dick reached out and touched Ruiz on the arm, forcing her attention away from Jason. “I can. I can look after my self. But I won’t need to – I didn’t see any signs they had hounds for tracking sent and we are too close to their base for them to think we would hide. They are going to chase you, I guarantee it.”

“If you die, Grayson, I am going to dig up your corpse and feed it to my dog!” Ruiz told him finally.

“I will do my best, Officer Ruiz, never wanted to end up as a dogs dinner.” Dick was grinning again, now he was getting his own way. But he looked like shit and Jason was honestly more concerned about leaving him to die of infection than the gang finding him.

“Lets get you hidden then,” Jason said, and using the last of his strength he picked Dick up in his arms again. Dick squawked in surprise but didn’t fight. Either because he was in too much pain, or was conserving his own strength, or because one set of tracks would be less noticeable.

When he found a good spot Jason lowered him as gently as he could. He was feeling pretty winded which did not bode well for the run through the jungle he was about to embark on.

As he pulled back Dick grabbed his hand. “Thank you for saving me, Jay. And thank you for helping save Ruiz too.”

Jason squeezed his fingers, and then withdrew his hand to start poking though his pack – a good excuse to order his thoughts that were a little tangled. “Yeah, well you started it, with shooting me into the river,” he said at last.

He handed Dick one of his water bottles and a couple of energy bars. “I don’t know how long it will take, so be sparing with the water.”

“Yes mother.”

“I’m serious, Dick.”

“I know.”

Jason also gave him the Wayne Tech tablet. Hopefully they could use the Merc’s gear to track the tablet back to this spot – that should save some time – and Jason was too exhausted to be completely sure he would remember the way back after more running and fighting.

Finally he handed over his secondary weapon. “There’s only a couple of bullets left in this one, don’t waste them.”

Dick looked at it doubtfully, but he nodded. “Take care, Jay. Stay safe.”

“You too.”

It was fucking hard to walk away, but he did, and he didn’t look back.

#jaydick #jason todd #dick grayson #mik trys to write stuff #my fic #My writing #this night

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