#but what if jason can’t like it or even feels triggered by it because joker called him ‘jj’ and it sounds too close

[rubydubydoo122]

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

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

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

Right. Bearings. Then head back to Gotham. 

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

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

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

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

Bruce grunted, “Status.”

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

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

No. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dick–”

“No! We can’t just let you die.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom.” 

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

“Jason?”

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

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

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

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

“Sure, tell me about it.”

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

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

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

“Wait! The Joker–”

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

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

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

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

“Why not? I can save him this time!”

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

“Because this Jason needs you more.”

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

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

“Jason! You’re still alive!”

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

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

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

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

Lovely juxtaposition. 

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

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

He was dying. 

He was dying again . 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jason! Where are you!”  

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

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

Until he saw himself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, naturally, Jason looked everywhere but Bruce.

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

Hold up. 

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

“‘Wing, B–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And with that, he left for the thrift store.

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

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

Right. Clothes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce and Dick climbed down from the fire escape. 

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

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

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

[boyfridged]

This is the easiest equation in the world. He has one bullet. Besides him, there are three people in this warehouse (or two, depending on how you look at it.) He knows what to do.

or, jason todd's take on the leave no trace/non-interference time travel protocol.

leave no trace (read on ao3)

if you could destroy the story before it started, would you–  “outhouse,” rachel mckibbens

This is not a dream, even if it seems like that. Even if the colours are too bright in this dark warehouse, and the sun glimmers on the few and narrow windows like it would on stained glass in a church. It must be smudges of dirt. Dirt is everywhere. Layers of ash on the floor. A stain of blood (or a child). Kaleidoscopes of red, yellow, and green.

Breathe. Breathe. Five things you can see (1. His gloved hands. 2. His gun. 3. Sheila Haywood; her face less calm than he remembers it, streaks of tears ruining her makeup– 4. Joker, looking right at him, 5. And that pile on the floor. A mangled, whimpering thing, that would probably feel oddly soft under his boot.) Focus. What goes next? 1. Laughter 2. Laughter. 3. Laughter. 4. Laughter. Or was it something he can feel? Or taste? Blood in his mouth. Focus.

There are protocols for this. One of the few Batman protocols that were designed in collaboration with outsiders, the Flash and even Booster Gold advising on the best course of action. Jason remembers studying them, and remembers Bruce telling him, in a strange occurrence, “I trust you do the right thing, if it comes to this.” And Jason remembers replying– “I always do.” In his mind, he would add, cynically, that fortunately his idea of the right thing was not the same as that of his father.

This is not a dream, but he had a similar once, or maybe it was a hallucination, as he sat in a cell in the Magdala Valley, and Robin’s body was twitching in front of him in spasms of pain, and an adolescent voice asked for help, and he replied, “I have tried, Robin. Believe me, I have tried.” And now he can truly try.

Focus. The Joker is static, perhaps because of the gun aiming at his head. “I love this joke!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the vastness of the building. Somehow, to Jason’s ears, the moan coming from the floor feels more offensive.

There’s something he is missing, a memory tugging at his mind. A mention of the Joker using his old alias in Ethiopia, or someone else being spotted in a Red Hood-esque attire. “Peculiar,” Bruce said back then, and that was it, either way, “Robin, stay put.” Now, Robin is indeed staying put, Jason thinks with some humour, and the laughter in the background feels almost appropriate, as everything comes together, aligns. He retracts his actions since the displacement happened, where he’s been seen in the Valley, and how he ended up here, kicking the doors in. For a second, clarity almost overwhelms him.

This is the easiest equation in the world.

He has one bullet. Besides him, there are three people in this warehouse (or two, depending on how you look at it.) He knows what to do.

He fixes the gun on the target. Clean. His finger is placed on the trigger. Steady.

The shot is deafening.

***

Jason jolts in the Batcave, and he comes to his senses slowly, like from a dream. He blinks. Bruce is looking at him, maybe a little sadly. He can see his mouth moving, but can’t make out the words clearly. “Since you are here…timeline secure…the right thing.”

Jason stares at him, still a little dizzy.

“Sure did.” He smiles.

“Thank you,” Bruce says. There it comes; normally, he would be surprised at the sentiment, but this is only a confirmation that he was not actually trusted, that the fact that their reality did not collapse with Jason’s unprecedented trip was a surprise. Besides, Bruce doesn’t have any idea what he’s thanking him for, he doesn’t know half of it. And it’s not like Jason did it for him, either way.

Breathe.

There’s the giant Joker card, and Jason’s own gloves, and the empty magazine of his gun–

“One thing you can hear?” This is Batman talking.

“Ringing.”

[wrencatte]

there's a very specific type of water-related torture (There was a mythbusters episode abut it.) I've been meaning to subject a character to and Jason gets to be that lucky character! I just could never figure out the scenario and I didn't actually want him to be tortured by someone, just have it be unfortunate circumstances. Well...I've figure it out!!! Here, have the WIP i literally just started.

Jason opens his eyes to darkness. Which, yanno, is great, fantastic, abso-fucking-lutely the best thing ever. He groans and tries to sit up – finds himself unable to, something heavy pinning him to the ground. Oh. Okay. We’re doing this.

He wrenches one arm free and tries to leverage what has to be a concrete slab off of him. His glove slips and he nearly punches himself in the face. Wouldn’t hurt his face, but he’s seen what punching his helmet has done to other people’s hands so he’s very glad for that nearly. His other arm is trapped between his body and another piece of concrete. He wiggles his fingers, makes a pained noise as it sends spikes of pain up his arm. At least he can move them, yeah?

So. Trapped. Like…trapped-trapped. Great. The comm in his ear is nothing but static when not even – ten? Twenty? How long has it been? – who knows how long ago he remembers someone shouting HOOD. His helmet is dead, he can smell burnt electronics and the cushioning is starting to feel not great. Jason fiddles with the latch and takes it off, drops it from nerveless fingers.

It makes an echoing thunk and it’s like it shattered some barrier because suddenly Jason can hear everything. From the sirens outside to the shifting sound of the building settling to the sparking of severed wires to the dripdripdrip of broken pipes – one of them is dripping right on his face. He glares up into nothingness, as if the heat of his glare will be enough to weld the pipe close.

No such luck.

He’s trapped under a building. Jason squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck. He went through a lot of effort to minimize his reactions to various predicted triggers – crowbars, explosions, very specific laughter, just the general gamut – because he was not going to let his reactions get the better of him. And it worked! Maybe he gets a little shaky afterwards, like a delayed panic attack, but he’s never once frozen up when faced with red numbers flashing on a countdown. Hell, even when the Joker got to him last year and the Bats had to stage a rescue (really, how embarrassing) he managed to delay the fall out by a whole two days in order to clean up the mess the bastard left behind.

So, yeah. He’s got a great handle on this shit.

Doesn’t mean he likes being trapped like this. Who knows how stable this building is? Who knows what injuries he’s got under this concrete – because he can’t feel anything from the bottom of his ribcage down. He thinks he’s wiggling his toes, but he can’t tell for sure.

There’s a comfort, though, that he knows for a fact that someone is up there trying to get him out. He’d been with both Red Robin and Robin, providing cover fire from an adjacent building’s window…a building that wasn’t supposed to be blown up. In fact, he’s ninety-nine percent sure the voice shouting his name was Tim’s. He’s in good hands between the two of them and Oracle.

If this water would fucking stop – !

Jason grits his teeth and strains up again, huffing and puffing like a goddamn big bad wolf, and it does nothing to blow the house down. The concrete slab is twice as heavy compared to what he normally benches outside adrenaline, and he’s honestly surprised he wasn’t smashed to bits.

Another droplet hits his forehead. He flinches. It’s almost cold with how superheated he feels – like a fever but worse because there’s no relief. Hopefully it’s not actually a fever. That would monumentally fucking suck.

[takaraphoenix]

I’ve recently decided to get back into Batman: Beyond because I read the Justice League Beyond comics... a year or so ago, and they reminded me that no wait TERRY was my Batman.

I grew up on that show. Before I met Bruce as Batman, I watched Batman: Beyond as a kid.

So I figured maybe it’s time for a rewatch and that I’d like to dive into the corresponding comic continuation too.

And I realize that... damn, it’s so bleak. So... hopeless?

I gather many parts of that root in the fact that this verse was created 25 years ago and predates some of the Bat Fam members, or the precise constellations of them.

But there’s just so much hopelessness to Earth-12′s Gotham. Thousands of Jokers, all over the US? The Joker inspired thousands to wreck havoc.

And Batman inspired no one. And that’s unfathomably sad.

Barbara? Sure, no longer Batgirl. But also not Oracle. No, instead of helping on a greater scale, she’s a cop now. Stuck in the same limited position as her father so many years ago. Just rinse and repeat.

Dick? Quit it all? Okay so he didn’t take over Batman after Bruce retired. That’s fine. But that he was pretty much taken out of the game for good.

Tim? Can’t even enter the Bat Cave without a panic attack. Quit superheroing as a whole and is married (to some random nameless girl) with children now.

And for decades, nobody carried any Bat mantle. No Kate, no Damian, no... heck, no nobody. None of the countless Bat Fam members from the main continuity are active in this world and that’s what makes it feel hopeless.

Like Bruce’s fight didn’t matter at all. Because Gotham’s a bigger shithole than it ever was before and the only Bat around is - and I genuinely can’t believe I’m saying this because these words still feel cursed - a genetic clone of Bruce created by Amanda Waller changing a guy’s DNA so that guy could sleep with his wife and conceive a child that would genetically be Bruce’s. And even he needed the trigger of the dead dad to start being Batman.

(So I’m guessing Damian doesn’t exist at all in this universe.)

The one good thing I have to say about Bruce is that he, somehow, inspires people into doing good. He has all these kids out there fighting in his name, trained by him in some form of shape. And even if Bruce ever retires as Batman, there’d be Kate, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Steph, Cass, Babs, Luke, Jace. Even without Bruce, heck even entirely without a Batman, Gotham would be protected.

But not in this world. No, this Dick and Tim don’t seem to care much for Bruce - heck, this Barbara doesn’t seem to either. The Bat’s faded into a myth because nobody carried the mantle for decades.

And I get it. That’s the point. The point of Earth-12 is that it’s a dystopian cyber future. That’s the show’s whole aesthetic.

Now, my point is more that I’d love to see Terry in a brighter future too. In one where he’s not the second Batman but maybe the third. One where the Bats are still active, even when he starts out.

I want to see an Elseworlds-esque take on this Elseworlds story that basically puts him in the main timeline.

[verytiredtrashcan]

Hello hello, I am here to turn your ask against you: what are some of your angstiest batfam headcanons?

Thank you for using my own ask against me :D Sorry the response is so late!

I think I mentioned this in my last ask, but I think Jason hides illnesses and injuries a lot, especially once he comes back. I don’t think he would ever willingly tell anyone he wasn’t feeling well, they’d just see him collapse on patrol or they’d break into his safe house after not hearing from him for a while and he’s unconscious. I think from there whoever finds him would be worried but also angry that hes too stubborn to ask for help and he let it get this bad. I think this could lead to a lot of angst because whoever finds him might not know the reasons why he hides being hurt.

I think that Stephanie and Duke suffer from imposter syndrome when it comes to the batfamily. Steph because she feels like she sometimes she isn’t good enough to work for Batman. I think a lot of this has to do with what happened when she was robin. With Duke I think it’s because at first he didn’t think he’d be accepted because of the no metas rule in Gotham. Of course he’s a member of the family now but sometimes he wonders if he’s good enough sometimes.

Cass struggles with fitting in as a civilian. As a vigilante she feels more comfortable given her skills and experience. But as a civilian? It feels like the opposite. She’s great at reading people but people have a hard time understanding her. They think she’s standoffish and and so they tend to avoid her, especially at galas. Normally Cass doesn’t care but sometimes she just wants to be acknowledged and seen.

Dick struggles a lot with expectations and responsibility. He always feels like he needs to be perfect and that he can’t make mistakes. So he ends up pushing himself a lot even when he shouldn’t. He’ll take case after case, barely taking anytime to rest or take care of himself. And the pressure and stress builds and builds for him and he feels crushed by it.

Barbara still struggles with the trauma from what happened to her with the joker. She still has nightmares and she has triggers. Things like the doorbell ringing and taking photos with flash still trigger her.

That’s all I have for now! Tysm for asking, what do you think of these?

[theclam-beforethestorm]

Sorry but Bruce’s “conviction” has changed justification too much for me to genuinely feel like it’s some ironclad ‘the world is beautiful’ thing. It’s either; they can still get better, we’re just as bad as them if we do, we’re not the executioners, etc etc. and the idea that he truly believes everyone is capable of change doesn’t hold up to scrutiny when you analyze his actual actions and his beliefs behind “crime fighting.” You can view his belief as some ironclad conviction where it represents what a good person he is, but that’s your analysis of him, not an actual fact of his character

(Part 2) Also same anon but i just saw your post about how you want a fic where Bruce snaps and goes “why don’t you fuckijg to it” re: killing joker and it’s like. babe did you actually read the comics? He slit Jason’s throat and left him for dead when Jason tried. It’s not just his own conviction or “boundary” he actively and violently prevents others from doing the same, regardless of the consequence. You’re right that sure it’s his line in the sand, but what right does he have to enforce it against others as well? You can’t get mad at Jason (or fans) for wanting Bruce to step over that line while actively rooting for Bruce to engage in that same pattern of behavior

—

I totally understand where you're coming from, anon, but the flaws you pointed out are genuinely more the fault of the writers than Batman's actual character. Yes, his justification has changed, but it's a result of shitty writing and a poor understanding of his character, and you can't conduct a proper analysis on him if that's the material you're working with.

And yes, I have actually read the comics. UTRH was a fucking mess, but even if it wasn't, Bruce stopping a murder that he is completely and 100% capable of stopping isn't the same as somebody else killing the Joker while he's incapable of interfering. If Bruce is capable of stopping a murder and he let's it happen, then yeah, he is a participant in that murder, and it's totally fair of him to not what that. But Bruce wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt if the Joker was killed while he was off in space with the JL or something, because he a) didn't pull the trigger and b) didn't stop someone from pulling the trigger.

[arckilop]

Futaba persona 5

They accept her for who she is while supporting her in her own willful attempts to partake in activities outside her comfort zone. Post change of heart, the Phantom Thieves attempt to bring Futaba's social skills up to par, but most of their attempts fail and, thanks to some unsolicited artistic advice from Yusuke, they come to realize they need to meet Futaba at her level rather than the other way around. But just because we can effectively perform normalcy doesn't mean we don't exist or that our atypical behaviors can't be explained by autism, and even the Phantom Thieves have to learn this through their interactions with Futaba. It's only when we become overwhelmed or overstimulated that you see behavior like Futaba displayed in Akihabara or like me at that Christmas party. We tend to blend in well enough up to that point and then use "masking" skills to hide our autistic traits after that, mimicking expected behavior. Many women on the spectrum fit this description, and we're often labeled as "forever 12," referring to social skills dropping off at the beginning of adolescence and our interests tending to revolve around things considered juvenile. Unfortunately, so little reliable information exists about the presentation of ASD in the female population, that a lot of people seem to think people like Futaba don't really exist, that she is a caricature.īoth Futaba and I fall into the category of high intelligence but emotionally and socially stunted, as if we never evolved past childhood in those areas of development. Nothing about her is out of line for a girl or woman on the autism spectrum. In a world where autistic characters are becoming more common but often miss the mark and end up as caricatures, Futaba is actually an excellent representation of an autistic girl with low support needs, not unlike myself. While there is no official confirmation of an ASD diagnosis, Futaba displays multiple autistic traits including misophonia (hence the headphones), impaired social skills, hyper-fixation on special skills and interests, and generalized anxiety resulting in meltdown behavior. And that "disconnect" has a name: autism spectrum disorder. During the scene in Akihabara, I saw in Futaba the disconnect from the world I've only recently come to understand in myself- the same disconnect Jason sees in us both when he recommended the game to me on the grounds that Futaba reminded him of me. I live that situation frequently the Christmas party was hardly the first or last time it's happened. I know what it's like to have everyday situations trigger a stress response, and the only two in my arsenal are freeze and fawn. I know exactly what it feels like to be in that situation, paralyzed by over-stimulation and fear, looks of disgust staring me down. Her fear of the crowd and the noise, her inability to speak or move, the way the customers and even the police acted as if she was some kind of threat, how she found comfort in Joker- sheepishly hiding behind him. That was years ago, but it all felt fresh to me again when I saw how Futaba Sakura reacted to being alone in a crowded electronics store in Akihabara while playing Persona 5. Neither of them were disappointed in me- just concerned, just glad to see the terror fade away on the ride home. Jason- because we had only been friends for a couple months, and I was afraid that friendship would abruptly end after he saw the true extent of my social anxiety, that he'd realize there was no future with me. My husband- because we could never go anywhere without me involuntarily making a scene. I remember feeling as if I had failed them both. My husband and my friend, Jason- who I'd only just met at the time- took turns coming out to check on me, console me, offer me an escape.until I finally agreed. A few people who'd already had too much to drink tried to hug me or pull me towards the party, only making me recoil at their touch. A spectacle.Ī few strangers asked if I was ok but walked away when they realized I was incapable of answering. Hysterical crying, like a toddler denied a new toy. All I remember is that entry way and all the people passing by me, the smell of snow and ice and rock salt on their shoes, while I sat slumped on the floor in hysterics. I don't remember if I even made it into the event hall. Laughter and forced conversations between my husband's co-workers and senseless chatter all blurring together over blaring holiday music. The stale, sickening scent of decades' worth of cigarette smoke oozing from the carpets and wallpaper. Too many people, too many sounds and sensations, too many expectations.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Listen. I like a good ‘Comics Tim gets turned into Joker Junior’ fic as much as the next angst-loving Batfam fan. But given that Batman: The Animated Series Tim is just Jason Todd under a different name, on all counts - backstory, place in the Batfamily timeline, personality, right down to his career as Robin ending with his capture, torture and in at least one sense murder by the Joker (literal death vs the death of his sanity and identity) that doesn’t stick - I maintain that if we’re transferring this plot to the comics continuity, it should be Jason. Fifteen-year-old Jason. Aka Robin II, adopted by Bruce out of poverty with a dead mother and criminal father who was killed by Two-Face, aka exactly who Tim is B:TAS. It just makes more sense! And it’s no less interesting!

A warehouse explodes in Ethiopia. Bruce searches through the debris, shouting for Jason, his only thoughts the need to hold his son and a growing banshee wail that he’s too late, too late, too late. He can’t even find a body. Instead he finds Sheila, with minutes of her life to spare. She uses her last breaths to tell him the Joker took Jason away somewhere. Alive. His son is alive. Bruce can - no, will find him, whatever the cost.

He and Barbara, and Dick the moment he returns to Earth, devote every available second (and many that really aren’t available) to looking. For Jason, Joker, his associates, his sightings, any hint or scrap of evidence they can find. But they can’t find much. How they long for Joker’s usual obvious calling cards and attention seeking. Now it’s like he’s vanished into thin air, taking their Robin with him. It speaks of a higher purpose; this isn’t simply luring Batman into a trap, Joker has designs for Jason himself. Bruce shudders to imagine them. That only makes him more determined to find his child. He eats and sleeps as little as possible, lashes out and communicates more with glares and growls than words. He can’t take joy in anything. He can’t give up, he can’t… he doesn’t know how he’ll go on if he’s lost Jay forever.

In the movie, Tim’s captivity lasts three weeks. In the comics, Bruce’s downward spiral after losing Jason lasts six months before Tim interrupts it. I think it’ll need to be a few months here to be long enough for Tim to get involved - you can go with the full six if you want, for maximum angst. Barbara was also already Oracle by the time Jason died, attending his painfully small funeral in a wheelchair, so Dick is out on the streets with Bruce. Tim Drake observes Bruce’s declining mental health and wants to help, as in the comics. He doesn’t become Robin here, but he does volunteer his detective services to aid in the search and grow close to the Bats.

They find Jason. The Joker dies. He takes a part of all of them with him.

Think of the fanfic potential! How does Jason’s recovery go? Does he want nothing to do with vigilantism anymore, not trusting himself to be a hero due to having such severe lifelong trauma, or eventually invent a new heroic identity like Flamebird or Phoenix? If he doesn’t resume fighting crime, what does he do instead? How does the Batfamily as a whole recover and evolve? Does Bruce ban child vigilantism or try to? To what extent do the others agree? Does Jason give Tim his blessing to be the next Robin? When Steph, Cass, Damian and Duke show up, how do their journeys unfold with Jason present as a sibling and role model and Bruce wanting perhaps even more to prevent or at least delay them from frontline crimefighting? How does how the expanding Batfamily operate? Wait, now there’s no Joker to poison Elaine and Doug Thomas’s minds, does Duke even get into crimefighting or associate with the Bats, and if so, how and why? You see how many questions I got just out of the aftermath? How are there no fanfics about this already?!

[bigskydreaming]

Part of why I harp on about Last Laugh all the time is because its not just about Dick killing the Joker which is what Jason always wanted someone to do for him, to know that he mattered enough for that......but also when you erase Last Laugh or discard it because it just doesn’t fit into your perception of the characters as fanon has dictated, like.......another huge factor of the Jason-Bruce-Dick dynamic falls by the wayside as well.

And that’s how Jason’s not only always been convinced that Bruce would kill to avenge Dick’s death.....but in ADDITION, Jason has always been convinced that Bruce would be more forgiving of the kinds of actions Jason has taken, aka murder, if Dick had been the one doing it.

Because see....the other thing Last Laugh showed aside from Dick’s feelings about Jason’s death......is that Bruce very much was NOT okay with what Dick had done. Bruce always said he brought back the Joker because he knew Dick wouldn’t be able to live with having done that, but IMO it was NEVER about what Dick could or couldn’t live with, it was about what BRUCE could live with Dick having done.

Because regardless of the Joker being resuscitated.....Dick was still keenly aware of the fact that he’d still beaten him to death first. Jason’s resurrection, Dick being revived after his own death, those never erased the impact of their actual deaths, rendered them moot, and neither did resuscitating the Joker. If Jason died and it matters? Coming back doesn’t make that unmatter. If Dick only was dead for a couple minutes tops, that doesn’t mean Luthor DIDN’T kill him and he wasn’t still dead; he’d still actually died.

The same is true of the Joker’s death, no matter how short-lived it was. Dick still DID it. Dick was still very cognizant of that. Dick actually struggled with this for a number of issues, though I don’t think that really was about regretting what he’d done so much as that he’d let the Joker ‘win’.....AND it was ALSO about how Bruce saw him now.

And IMO you can’t argue that Bruce only resuscitated the Joker for DICK’S sake and because DICK couldn’t live with that.....when Bruce notably, distinctly, NEVER EVER EVER actually....engaged Dick on the topic of what he’d done there. 

Ever. 

He went back to Gotham and never made a single appearance to help Dick process things, even when others like Wally showed up in Bludhaven while Dick was holing himself away from the world. Bruce and Dick literally NEVER spoke of it again. Because Bruce wasn’t okay with what Dick had done. He didn’t know how to forgive him or look past it, so he basically did everything in his power to make it so it basically never happened. 

And the difference with UTRH is....when Jason showed up, by the time Bruce knew it was him, pretending Jason hadn’t done the things that Jason wasn’t the least bit ashamed of was never actually even an option.

So I don’t actually think Bruce is any more inclined to forgive Dick of things like murder because its Dick.....I think Bruce had to force+quit all thoughts of Dick actually killing, in order to preserve his relationship with Dick. 

(Even though his relationship with Dick still suffered, because Dick was still keenly aware that Bruce was not okay with what he’d done, and like, not trying to understand WHY Dick had done it or that he was actually maybe okay with having done it albeit outside of the context of it having played into what the Joker wanted him to do. Like, Dick after Last Laugh still very much angsted about Bruce’s assessment of him after it, and did need that reassurance that Bruce still loved him and forgave him....and what Bruce actually gave him is “I’ll agree to never reference it as having happened and look past it for the sake of our relationship” which is very much NOT the same thing. And with, as I’ve also gone into before, this no doubt being HUGELY central to why Dick was so lost and shaken by his fears of having let Bruce down AGAIN by letting Blockbuster die. These things are absolutely connected.)

The flip side of this is that......I don’t think Bruce was any LESS inclined to ‘forgive’ Jason of murder just because he was Jason and not Dick. In that case, it was just more about the fact that there was no way for Bruce to even TRY to force+quit out of his awareness of what Jason had done. Denial wasn’t going to cut it in the same way it had with Dick, because Dick’s ‘crime’ had been one and done.

But THEN, the flip side of THAT - or maybe we’re just on a tangent now, oh hell, who can keep track, let’s all just agree that flips were flipped and tangents were...tangented - like, the other interesting facet of this for me is if Bruce HADN’T been so intent on forcibly ignoring or forgetting that Dick had killed the Joker, for the sake of their relationship or whatever, or if someone else had brought it up - not only could this have improved Dick and Jason’s relationship, it also could have forced Bruce to confront the logical fallacy inherent in like...his MAIN ARGUMENT for why he was so deadset against Jason’s choices. 

And that all goes back to how Bruce has a tendency to project his own worst flaws onto his children, and be paranoid that they’re going to go down the same dark paths he constantly is trying to keep himself from straying down - ironically in part due to how he uses his childrens’ similarities to him in order to build common ground and see a place and purpose for himself in their lives in the first place. He sees himself in his children, that’s what draws him to them in the first place, and makes him act to bring them into his own life and build a home for them....but there’s a double-edged sword element to this too, as Bruce I think often perceives his worst fears for HIMSELF in his childrens’ actions and choices....and acts based on that. Rather than keeping centered his awareness that for all that they are LIKE him in various ways, they are their own people. As different from him as they are alike.

See, because like....Bruce’s primary reason for why he can’t ever allow himself to kill, even someone like the Joker....is because he KNOWS himself, and knows that if he ever allowed himself to cite precedent by doing it even just once.....he’d open up the door and progress through it past a point of no return, whereupon he’d never STOP being able to come up with justifications for why he should also kill this villain and this one and this one. Its the slippery slope argument. He can’t ever start down that slope, because he doesn’t trust himself to ever stop.

And he projects this same logic onto his children, who he seems so much of himself in....the good AND the bad. And so his fears AND his judgment, for both Jason AND Dick when they kill, even just in one special case....is that it sets them both on the same slippery slope. Because they are after all just like him, right?

But also they’re not....as evidenced by the fact that Dick DOESN’T KEEP KILLING. The Last Laugh is basically an outlier (assuming we don’t count Creighton, which I don’t rate the same because while I think Dick definitely did kill him, it was a clear cut case of self-defense and thus a totally different ballgame). Its significant that Dick killed, not just because he did it, and not just because Bruce didn’t actually ever forgive him for it....but also because...despite Bruce being afraid to face or acknowledge it because of how it played into his own fears for his own worst self and choices.....Bruce facing it is exactly what needs to happen in order for Bruce to ever acknowledge that his actual fears of the slippery slope....DID NOT HAPPEN, with Dick. Dick’s never used what happened with the Joker to cite a precedent, to justify to himself the choice to do that again with another villain he had just as much reason to hate.

And from THERE....once you connect all these dots and all these parallels and contrasts and intersections......its notable not just that Jason has killed, and with intent and without regret....but also that there IS no rationale for taking it for granted that Bruce acts differently with Jason’s crimes than he would if Dick committed them, just because its Jason and not Dick.....because the key difference is not WHICH of them did it, its the CIRCUMSTANCES of them doing it....and Jason’s circumstances not affording Bruce the same luxury of denial.

And then from THERE, finally, the coup de grace at the end of it all:

Is it also makes it equally notable that....just as Dick’s lack of killing again after the Joker, like, establishes a counter argument for Bruce’s fears that such a thing is inevitable once Dick killed even once....and with this fear being WHY he comes down so hard on the topic of even his children killing villains guilty of heinous crimes....

Dick’s lack of killing others after the Joker ALSO establishes a PRECEDENT....for the fact that no, killing someone does not make it IMPOSSIBLE to ever step BACK from that ledge if one so chooses. ‘Pulling the trigger’ as it were, even just once, initially....does not doom one of Bruce’s children to a lifetime of never being anything BUT a remorseless killer who can never choose a different path.

And of course, the fact that Jason killing certain people DOESN’T mean that he can’t ever stop, like....this is actually central to the entire Batfam’s dynamics as a whole?

Because after all.....literally every canon story, continuity or fanfic that has Jason reunite with the family to ANY degree, after having killed....which is like, basically all of them.....

These all take it as a given that....Jason is absolutely fully capable of choosing not to kill. He is not LOCKED into anything, beyond the possibility of having any kind of relationship with his family whatsoever, just because he’s killed....with the proof being like....literally all the stories where he still has a relationship with his family despite having killed previously or even still killing in some circumstances in the present!

The slippery slope does not rule all, is the thing. And the proof that Bruce’s fears of the slippery slope once slipped upon, being a one way street straight the fuck to hell, like.....the proof that that’s more a HIM problem than a hard and fast rule that can only ever play out one way for everybody Bruce see himself reflected in?

That proof literally begins with Last Laugh. With Dick. Paving the way for Jason there, rather than making a case for how actually things with Jason and Bruce would look totally different if it had just been Dick and Bruce there instead.

The second you acknowledge that the comics and most fanfics ALREADY take it as a given that Bruce’s projection of his own fears of the slippery murder slope is like....NOT actually any more of an inevitable death knell for Jason’s relationship with his family than Jason’s own actual death knell meant shit about his own longterm survival.....

Then Dick’s killing of the Joker in Last Laugh becomes extremely relevant not just because of what it reveals about how Bruce’s views on murder and his sons doing the murder is NOT actually conditional, based just on which son it is that does the deed most dirty....

It also becomes extremely relevant because of the precedent it establishes in countering the very argument/view that is central to keeping Jason from having any real relationship with his family until Bruce gets the fuck out of his own and everyone else’s way on this front.

[gangrenados]

I gotta get your opinion on this since I've been think. So, Arkhamverse Jason. Do you think he's ever had sex with anyone? He obviously has BDE, yeah, but he's still relatively young and also he was still Robin when the Joker caught him.

Tw: mentions of torture and trauma.

AK Jason has major bde, you just know he has it by taking a brief glimpse of him. It increases whenever he's holding a gun or whatever, we're not going to talk about any gun kink here.

Even if Jay has bde, I highly doubt he has ever had sex before. You see, he was fairly young when Joker kidnapped him, and I also doubt he would had any sexual relations before that incident since he was rather shy teen.

After what that clown and his goonies (Harley included) did to him, I don't think Jay were able to trust others, he was left broken and alone until he could stand on his feet again.

Besides, the self loathing plays a big role since he doesn't like his scarred skin and how damaged some parts of his body are. Jason can't even stand his own reflection due that damn 'J' carved on his cheek.

He fears somebody would see him and think assume the worst.

So yeah, I think AK Jason is a virgin.

I know you didn't asked this, but I feel like rambling:

I also think he's really touch starved so he seeks affection, but flinch and back off if anyone tries to give him any.

AK Jason might be built like a goddamn truck, but deep down he's afraid he might get hurt again.

It would be a long process, both mentally and emotionally, for Jason if he decides to have sex.

There would be a lot of times he'll ask to stop since he's getting triggered, he feels ashamed for it since he doesn't want to disappoint and because he wants to do this. But it just doesn't feel right, he needs some time alone to calm down.

It would take time, patience, understanding and reassure for Jason to take the next step, and your first time together will be slow and full of love. I have no doubts he'll would cry during sex.

[americancowgirl19]

Expendable

Summary: Consumed by your grief over Jason’s death, you track down the Joker on your own. Only you end up finding some... thing very different.

Warnings: vampires, violence, depression, fluff, angst

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader (Platonic), Jason Todd x Reader (Platonic), Tim Drake x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 6,113

A/n: Enjoy

Masterlist

You heaved heavily hunched over the bathroom sink. Your fingers grip the edge of the counter top, knuckles turning white. Your eyes are screwed shut as you try not fall apart for the millionth time that week.

It’s only been a month since Jason died and you felt as if you saw his freshly dead body a few hours ago. Your dreams are riddled with nightmares. You can’t even escape the thoughts while awake.

All you can think about is Jason’s beaten and burned body. You can hear the Jokers mocking laugh when you and Batman found him after Jason’s death. Bruce refused to kill him and stopped you from doing it yourself. Batman turned him into Arkham and like everyone could predict, the pale bastard escaped.

Slowly, your eyes open. You look at yourself in the mirror. You try to push back the tears as visions of Jason plague your mind. 

You were Bruce’s daughter. You were a few years younger than Dick but a few years older than Jason. You and Dick had a rocky friendship the first couple of years but you managed to work it out. With Jason, however, the connection was instant.

The both of you had tempers. Tempers which the other knew how to calm. The two of you just had an understanding. You became close quickly. 

You didn’t want to believe that Jason was dead. You didn’t want to believe that Bruce just let Joke get away with it. You wanted your brother back, you wanted Bruce to avenge him.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” You whisper. You wished you could have been there to save Jason. If only you had gotten to him sooner. Just 5 minutes would have made all the difference.

Your anger bubbles up to the surface all at once and before you know it, your punching the mirror until it’s all broken in the bathroom sink. Ignoring the stinging pain in your hand, you march out of the bathroom.

You storm out of your room and head toward the Batcave. You didn’t have to worry about running into your father. He’s either hiding in his room or out capturing other bad guys that have nothing to do with Jason’s death. Because apparently everyone else mattered while you, Dick and Jason were expendable.

Not to you, however. Your brothers were not expendable to you. They’re your world and the fact that you couldn’t protect Jason killed you. If Bruce wasn’t going to avenge him then that responsibility fell onto you.

You changed into your Sparrow uniform. By the time your pulling your mask on and making your way to your motorcycle, Alfred is entering the cave. You ignore him but he isn’t a man you can just ignore.

“Ms. Y/n?” He questions. You adjust your getup and swing your leg over the bike. Before you can turn the bike on, the man you’re closer to than your own father appears before you. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” You answer. He gives you a look but you don’t back down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He advises.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for permission,” You snap. “Why don’t you go tend to daddy dearest and let me do what needs to be done?” Alfred looks even more concerned as you turn the bike on. You don’t allow yourself to feel guilty for being rude to Alfred. You have to stay focused.

You speed away from the manor and toward Gotham City. The Joker could be in a number of places but you knew who to ask to narrow down his location.

Before Jason’s death, you weren’t as ruthless as you were now. You were a happy medium between Bruce’s temperament and Jason’s. But now, you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. 

You wanted blood.

You interrogated bad guy after bad guy. You left each of them in the streets, inches from death like the scum they were. You felt no sympathy for them as they struggled to breathe. You ignored their pleas for mercy and for help as you walked to your bike to find your next target.

You were so consumed on what you were doing and your goal to find the Joker that you didn’t realize you were being watched. And Bruce wasn’t the one stalking you.

“Where’s the Joker?!” You shouted before slamming your fist into the guys face. “Tell me!” You screamed. He grunted when you resorted to breaking his rips with your foot. You kicked him before he rolled onto his back prompting you to switch to stomping on his chest.

“Oh, you poor child,” A voice sounded from the shadows. In an instant, you whip the gun you had stolen out of the thigh holster and point it into the dark blindly.

“Show yourself,” You demand. You listen to the steps before a tall man comes into the moonlight. “Who are you?” You ask.

“Someone who can help you,” Your head tilts. “You can put that gun away, it cannot harm me.” He states.

“Who. Are. You?” 

“As I said, I’m someone who can help,” He says, sauntering closer to you. Your eyes narrow at him. “I know where the Joker is, I can take you to him,”

“Where is he?”

“I’ll tell you, but that information isn’t free,” He shakes his head.

“Tell me or you’ll end up like this deadbeat,” You motion to the man on the ground that’s slowly choking on his own blood. The man in front of you looks at him and smirks.

“You surely have potential... and you certainly have anger. Oh, so much anger,” He whispers coming forward. “You live on the need for vengeance. I can give it to you and so much more. All I want is to make a deal,”

“What kind of deal?” You ask, tilting your head. 

“I give you the Joker, and you give me your allegiance,” He says, stepping up to the end of the barrel of the gun. If you pull the trigger, the bullet goes straight through his heart.

“My allegiance?” You ask, slowly.

“You get the chance to finally sate your need for vengeance and you work for me.”

You stare into his eyes for a few moments before lowering your gun to the holster. He smirks and scoops you into his arms. Before you can ask a question he’s running at a speed that could outmatch the Flash.

“What the fuck?” You gasp when he comes to a stop and sets you down. “You’re a metahuman?”

“Not exactly,” He smirks. “I’ll explain everything once you’re finished. Inside is the Joker along with a lot of his friends. If you survive, you’ll be an excellent addition to my collection,” He states, prior to running off.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” You mutter to yourself. Sighing, you turn towards the building. A moment later, people start coming out. Large men in suits. They stop and look at you. A few draw their weapons. You smirk. “Who’s first?”

It took you a half an hour to reach the Joker. You’re not sure if you killed anyone, although it’s highly likely that you have. By the time you reach the pale skin fucker you’re covered in blood and bruises (maybe a bullet hole or two). Some of the blood is yours but most of it isn’t.

The Joker talks. He’s taunting you. Yet, you don’t really hear what he says. As you look at him, your mind is filled with images of Jason’s dead body. You stalk closer to him. 

You put your weapons away and pick up the crowbar you had found on a lower level. You had set it down in order to take care of the goons in the room quickly. 

But now you had the Joker right where you wanted him. You weren’t going to make this quick. Every time you brought the crowbar down on him, he only cackled loudly. Every strike just fueled your anger. 

You continued to beat him. At some point, his skull caved in but you continued to swing. You scream, tears falling down your face but you hardly notice. You just swing and swing until you collapse on the ground.

You let out one large, loud scream that echoes throughout the entire building. When you quiet down, your body curls into a tight ball and you begin to sob.

“Easy now, little one,” The inhuman man whispers, kneeling before you. “I’ll take your pain away,” He promises, picking you off the ground. “Rest now, I’ll look after you,” He whispers, racing you out of the building seconds before Batman shows up.

You don’t know how long you’re asleep, but when you wake up everything is different. You sit up from the unusually comfortable bed and look around. You don’t recognize where you are but at the moment it’s the least of your worries.

You never had absolutely perfect vision but now you’re eyes were acting like binoculars. You could see a far distance out the window and everything in clear detail that’s around you. Hell, you could even hear the cars going down the road miles from the house you’re in.

You move closer to the window but stop at the sound of the man who had taken you. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” You spin around toward him. You frown your eyebrows and look back to the window. You didn’t understand what he was warning you about. 

You soon find out when you step into the sunlight and find your skin heating up until it begins to burn. You gasp and speed to the other side of the room.

“What’s happening to me?” You whisper, watching your skin begin to blister. 

“Here, drink this,” He tosses you a bag. Your reflexes catch it. You want to ask what it is but your instincts take over as the smell reaches your nose. Within a minute, you have the bag drained of it’s liquid. 

When your done drinking, you look at the man. He nods to your arm and your eyes widen. You see your arm heal until there’s no trace of what had happened.

“Come, we have a lot to talk about,” You follow him down the hall. “My name is Vladimir but you may know me as Dracula,”

“Dracula?” You deadpan. “For real?”

“What? You do not believe that vampires are real? Even though you are one?” You stop walking. He stops as well and turns to you. “You are the daughter of Bruce Wayne, The Batman, you should be able to connect the dots,”

The blood, the enhanced senses, the vulnerability to light. You didn’t know how it was possible, but it was true. You were a vampire. You had made a deal with the devil... But oh, was it worth it.

****

“Whe-where am I?” A pale, redhead whimpers.

“Vicki Vale,” You state from the shadows. Your voice echoes off the walls making it impossible for her to pinpoint where you are. “So, you’re the one that’s obsessed with my father,” You growled. For a long time, the woman in front of you reported on both Bruce Wayne and Batman. She wrote article after article about him.

“Who are you?” She asks, in a shaky voice.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s not me you have to worry about,” You assure her, a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Alright, Y/n, that’s enough,” Vlad says coming into the room. Vicki gasps and turns to him. “Oh, you are beautiful,” Vlad whispers. “You will work perfectly,”

“Wh-what?” She whimpers, shying away from him.

“Y/n, leave Vicki to rest in peace, we have things to discuss,” Vlad calmly orders before turning to leave the room. You come out of the shadows, smirking when you startle her.

“So, she’ll work?” You ask him, the two of you walking toward his office.

“Yes, but we must move quickly. Your father and brother are causing trouble,” He tells you. Your head tilts at the information.

“They’ve killed more of your vampires?” You ask him.

“They found a way to cure them,” Vlad corrects you. “I need you to end them. I can’t afford to lose anymore vampires and I will not let them stop me from bringing Carmilla back,” He growls.

“Don’t worry, master, I’ll stop them,” You promise.

“I don’t want you to just stop them,” Vlad says, moving closer to you. “I want them dead and I want you to bring me their bodies. Do not fail me,” He growls.

“Have I ever?” You ask, smirking.

“Be quick about it,” Vlad orders. “The sun will be up in a few hours,”

****

“Viki Vale has gone missing,” Bruce informs Dick and Tim as he enters the Batcave. 

“Dracula?” Dick asks, crossing his arms in his Nightwing costume. His mask resting on the desk by Tim.

“He’s planning something. More and more people are being turned, we have to stop him before we’re too outnumbered.” Bruce says.

“Reports are coming in about a string of animal like murders in the Narrows. Fits vampire descriptions,” Tim says, reading the reports off the computer.

“Can you get a read on how many vampires there could be?” Dick asks.

“Doesn’t seem like a lot,” Tim mutters. “One, possibly two,”

“Let’s check it out,” Bruce orders. Tim nods standing up. He and Dick pull their masks on. Tim and Bruce get in the batmobile while Duke powers up the motorcycle. They both drive to the Narrows to investigate.

****

You hide in the shadows as the infamous Batman, Robin and Nightwing appear. You glare at the young Robin boy. Of course Bruce replaced Jason. It was typical for Bruce to replace someone. Fury fills your heart but you manage to control it knowing that if you waited a little longer, you would get the opportunity to unleash hell.

You didn’t want to hurt Dick. He’s your brother. But you didn’t have a choice. Vlad ordered you to kill them and that’s what you had to do. You wouldn’t necessarily take pleasure in killing your father and his newest protégé. However, you hoped that with Bruce’s death you would finally feel at peace with yourself.

You killed the Joker but your anger remained. You killed Jason’s bitch of a mother yet storm within you continued to rage. Maybe with the death of Batman you would finally know peace and tranquility. You didn’t blame Bruce for Jason’s death but you hated that he didn’t avenge him. You hated that he replaced him. That hatred mixed with your growing anger consumed you.

“This one’s still alive,” Dick announced, kneeling beside a woman. Bruce moved to kneel beside him while Tim wandered off. You smirked and followed him. You made some noise to draw him further from the others.

“You’re the new Robin, hmm?” You asked. Tim looked around. Technically, Tim wasn’t new. He had been at this for a couple of years now but you aren’t exactly up to date on the world around you. You’ve been training and isolated from the world for a long time. So, while Tim isn’t exactly new, he’s new to you.

He took a defensive stance but it wouldn’t do any good against you. You could kill him with a flick of your finger.

“We can help you,” Tim says, his eyes searching for you. “You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to be a vampire,”

“Oh, but I want to be,” You smirk, walking around him but continued to stay out of sight. Tim looks confused by your statement.

“We have a cure,” Tim states. You sneak up behind him.

“I don’t want it,” You whisper, in his ear. By the time he spins around, you’re out of sight. You grin, loving the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. “Tell me, what do you know about the Robin before you?”

“What?” Tim asks, tensing.

“You’re not Jason Todd,” You growl. Tim becomes increasingly more nervous. “So, may I know the name of his replacement?” You spit. He doesn’t answer you. “Fine, don’t answer, doesn’t matter anyway,” 

Tim tenses as things fall eerily silent. He goes to fall for back up but before he can finish the first syllable he’s lifted off the ground. You hand becomes tighter and tighter around his throat.

“You’re not Jason and you will never be him,” You growl, glaring at him. Tim choke, gripping your wrist but your grip doesn’t falter. His eyes widen a fraction as he recognizes you.

All throughout the mansion there’s picture of you. Dick talks about you all the time. He knows who you are but he can’t believe it. Bruce assumed you were dead, Dick insisted you were just missing. For nearly 7 years Dick worked to find you. Almost every spare moment went into finding some clue about you but you had vanished. 

“If you were,” You smirked. “You would have been able to take me down... You’re pathetic... Weak,” You bring him closer to your face. He struggles to breathe, looking even more terrified when your fangs extend. “And I’m so hungry,” 

Before you can feed on him, you’re knocked to the ground. You let Tim go as you tumble away. The boy collapses on the ground, coughing and struggling to breath in.

“Has anyone ever told you not to get between a vampire and her meal?” You growled, standing up. You turn to the man who had tackled you and smirked. There, only two feet away, is your older brother.

“Y/n,” Dick whispers, his defenses falling.

“Hey, big brother,” You wink. You take advantage of his astonishment and attack. You don’t even realize it but you’re holing back. You’re not going as fast as you could nor are you striking with all your strength. Hell, you’re barely hitting him with 20% power.

“Y/n! Stop! This isn’t you!” Dick shouts but you don’t listen to him. You grab his shoulders and fling him into a nearby wall. He collapses and struggles to breath.

“I’m not you’re little sister, anymore Dickie Poo,” You say, stalking up to him. “And all you are to me is a meal,”

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?” Dick groaned pushing himself up. You freeze for just a moment but Dick notices it.

“What can I say? I’ve always liked playing with my food,” You growled, trying to cover up your hesitance.

“You’ve always been a shit liar, sis,” Dick teases. You hiss as he stands. “You’ll always be my baby sister, you’re just more of a pain in my ass right now,” He smirks putting up his hands. “And you hit like a bitch,”

Crying out, you attack Dick once again. This time you hold back even less but you’re still not aiming to kill him. It angers you as you hear Vlad’s comment in the back of your mind. Your vampiric instincts are fighting against your humanity. 

Just when you’re about to give into your inclination to follow your masters orders a batarang sinks into your arm. It snaps you out of your instinctual daze. You look at it before following it’s path. You’re eyes land on Batman. For the first time in years you stare into your fathers eyes.

Before anything can happen, something catches your attention. You turn your head and watch the sun begin to peak over the buildings. You’re out of time.

“Wait!” Dick shouts reaching for you but you’re already gone.

****

You stand in front of Vlad for a solid five minutes. Five minutes of absolute silence. Intense, awkward, silence. You barely have the strength to hold his gaze for these few minutes but know if you look away you’ll look weak.

“I told you not to fail me,” Vlad tells you.

“I underestimated the skill of-”

“You’re a vampire!” Vlad shouts. It takes everything in you to not flinch. “You have the strength of a hundred men! I could possibly forgive you not being able to defeat your father, I failed that as well. However, you couldn’t kill an 18 year-old boy? Or your older brother?” Vlad asks, walking toward you.

“My humanity got in the way,” Vlad backhands you harshly.

“Your humanity,” Vlad says slowly. “For 6 year I’ve been working so hard to perfect you and yet here you are, a disappointment.” He spits.

“I’ll make it up to you,” You promise.

“You will,” Vlad nods, walking back to his seat. “And if you fail me again. I will rip your heart out,” You bow to him. “Wait for my word in your room,”

“Yes, master,” 

****

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tim asks, his voice horas. You had bruise his throat pretty good. It was a miracle he was able to talk at all at the moment.

“If anyone is going to get through to her, it’s him,” Dick assures him. Tim presses his lips together and follows his brother into the worn down building.

“How do we know he’ll even help?” Tim wonders.

“Because it’s Y/n,” Dick answers simply. Tim glances at him but says nothing else.

“You’ve got a lot of balls to come here, Dick,” Tim and Dick spin around to face Red Hood. Tim is in a defensive stance remembering the last time they had crossed paths. Red Hood and him fought, Tim barely escaping hospital time.

“Relax,” Dick mutters to Tim.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” He asks, looking around for Batman.

“Bruce isn’t here... It’s just us,” Dick assures him. They stare at each other for a moment before he takes off his red mask. “Jason,” Dick nods. Jason ignores the greeting and walks around them to get to his stuff. “Y/n’s alive,” Jason freezes completely. “We saw her a few hours ago,”

“Where?” Jason asks, keeping his back to them.

“Have you come across any vampires?” Dick asks. Jason turns to them.

“They’ve been crawling around town like cockroaches,” Jason says.

“Y/n’s one of them,” Dick tells him. “She attacked us a few hours ago. She tried to kill us but didn’t follow through.”

“We think that she still has some humanity left,” Tim says.

“I know she’s still in there.” Dick insists. “She could have very easily killed Tim and I but she held back,” Jason looks at the bruise around Tim’s throat. 

“She still mourns you,” Tim tells him. “If she knew you were alive, maybe we can get her back. If we can get her back to the mansion, we can cure her,”

****

“Everything is in place,” Vlad says. You stand in the background watching him. On the tables in the middle of the room lay two women. One is Vlad’s beloved Carmilla. The other is Viki Vale. The plan was to transfer Viki’s life essence into Carmilla to bring her back to life.

“Master,” A newly turned vampire interrupts. Vlad turns to her. “Batman, Robin and Nightwing have arrived.” Vlad snarls and turns to you.

“They must not stop the transference,” Vlad tells you.

“I will kill them once and for all master,” You vow.

“Kill the Batman, capture Robin and Nightwing. Take them to my office and keep them there,” Vlad orders. You tilt your head but nod.

“As you wish,” You bow and exit the room. You hunt down the three men but only find two of them; Dick and Tim. “I see your stubbornness has only increased with age,” You state standing at one end of the hall while they stand on the other. They look a little worn down but you can tell they still have plenty of energy.

“Guess I spent too much time around you as kids,” Dick shrugs, twirling his batons. 

“You should have stayed away,” You tell them, cursing yourself for how soft your voice had gotten. Your humanity, yet again, was showing. You pushed it back and locked it in a box but the little slip up was enough to confirm to both Dick and Tim that you could still be saved.

“You’ve been gone a long time, little sister,” Dick states. “It’s time to bring you home,”

“This is home,” You hiss. Dick shakes his head.

“This is a prison,” Dick corrects you. You smirk.

“You once said the same about Wayne Manor,” You remind him. You stare at him and your eyes flicker to Tim. “Join me,” You suggest. “We can give you the power you can only dream of,” You say, stepping closer to him. “We can be a family again,” You whisper, your humanity coming up once more. You allow it, for now.

“We can be a family,” Dick agrees. You perk slightly. “When you’re cured and back at the Manor,” Your face turns sour.

“Fuck the Manor,” You spat. “Fuck Bruce and Fuck Batman,” You hiss. “You think he cares?”

“He does!” Tim snaps. You laugh.

“Where did he pick you up from?” You ask Tim. “You must have a past. Bruce never takes in anybody mentally stable,”

“We’re not talking about that right now,” Dick cuts in. “If you don’t want to go to the manor, fine. Come with me,” Dick suggests. “I have an apartment in Bludhaven. You can stay with me... It’ll be like old times,” You’re so tempted to give in.

“I can’t,” You shake your head. “This is who I am now, this is where I belong,”

“No, you belong with us,” Dick insists.

“I haven’t belonged with you in years,” You mutter but he hears it. “I’m happy to see you alive, Dick... But you really should have stayed away,” You said, your voice hardening.

“We don’t have to do this,” Dick says. He and Tim fall into a defensive stance.

“I won’t go back,” You tell him. “Not with you, not with him and certainly not with Bruce,” You growl. “Why can’t you see that you’re not worth anything to him! All you are is an expendable tool! He’ll just replace you when you’re done being useful to him,”

“That’s a lie!” Tim shouts.

“Oh really?” You ask. “Then why are you standing here? Tell me, how long did he wait to replace Jason with you?” You wonder. “You’re nothing to him and when you die, he’ll move on like he always does and not give you a second thought!”

“You’re head is twisted, Y/n! You’re blinded by hatred and anger and grief, let us help you!” Dick pleads.

“No, I don’t need your help,” You growl racing toward them. Tim and Dick put up a good fight but you were done letting your humanity control you. Before they could pull any fancy tricks like they used to stop the other vampires, you knocked them out cold. Grabbing them by their collars you drag them to Vlad’s office. You lock them inside before hunting down your father.

You find him in the transference room fighting Vlad. You quickly join your master. With the both of you fighting against Batman, you’re beginning to overpower him. Until he uses a UV light which causes you and Vlad to scream in pain. When it’s gone, you slowly begin to heal.

“No! No! No!” Vlad screams seeing Vicki has disappeared before the transference  could complete. “NO!” You force yourself to a stand. You gasp when Vlad appears before you and grabs you by the throat. You struggle against him but he’s a great deal stronger than you. “I told you to kill him!” He snarls. You try to talk but he’s crushing your windpipe. “You’ve failed me for the last time,” He goes to rip your heart out when he’s pull away from you.

You fall to the ground and shake the dizziness from your head. You look up and see a grappling hook in Vlad’s chest. A man by the door holds the string and continues to pull Vlad from you until he gets his footing and yanks the man to him. You watch as Vlad throws him across the room.

“You vigilantes are a disease,” Vlad growls stalking toward him. You force yourself to stand. You feel your thirst begin to rise as your healing completes. 

Fresh blood gains your attention. You turn to the door seeing Dick and Tim at the entrance. You figured you had the guy in the red mask to thank for their escape

“Ah, look at this,” Vlad claps his hands. “A family reunion,” The red mask guy pushes himself up, grimacing at the pain in his back. “If you want another chance to live, Y/n,” Vlad turns toward you. “I want you to kill your brothers,”

You turn to Dick and Tim. They’re eyeing you as you eye them. The human voice in your head gets smaller and smaller as your animal instincts and need for blood overcome you.

“Kill them,” Vlad orders. Unable to fight his order, you advance to Dick. You stop when a clunk of stone is throne at your head. It doesn’t hurt you but it gets your attention. Your head snaps to the red mask guy with a growl.

“You on your period or something sis?” Your entire body freezes at the sound of his voice. No, it’s not possible. “You know how you get during that time of the month... I swear you turn into a fucking gremlin,” He raises his hands and takes the mask off. “Or, I guess, in this case a vampire,” Jason smirks.

“No,” You whisper shaking your head. “It’s not possible... You... you’re dead,”

“Didn’t stick,” He shrugs with that arrogant smirk of his. “Amazing what a Lazarus pit can do, huh?” Your breath hitches in your throat. It was possible.

“Y/n,” Vlad says regaining your attention instantly. “Kill. Them.” Your humanity vanished. With a hiss, you turn to attack Jason when Dick’s voice reaches your ears.

“You’re not expendable,” Dick states. You don’t look at him but it’s obvious you’re listening. “You mean so much more to us. We’re here for you and we’re not leaving without you. You’re one of us, not this creature he’s turned you in,”

“You know how much I hate agree with Dickwad,” Jason chuckles. “But on this, I do. Look, we’ve both changed over the years and that’s fine but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re brothers and you’re our sister. You went against father and killed the Joker for me. You beat the shit out of that one girl that cheated on Dick. You’ve stood up against Bruce for both of us on more than one occasion. You’ve always been there but now we’re here for you. It’s time to come home. Come with us,”

“Kill them!” Vlad shouts. Your eyes screw shut as you struggle between obeying Vlad and listening to your brothers. Realization hits Tim like a freight train.

“Don’t listen to him!” Tim encourages you. It finally made sense. All the vampires they came across were unnaturally loyal to Dracula. It was like they had forgotten their human lives and followed him. He figured it was just instinct but it was something more than that. Vampires were connected to their creator, Dracula, on a level they had severely underestimated. Tim theorized that Dracula had gotten to you, changed you, and manipulated/forced you to follow him. You had to follow his orders but that didn’t mean you wanted to.

You showed multiple signs of humanity. Dick and Jason were you’re anchors to your human side. If you could fight against Dracula’s orders then you could sever the connection. If that happened, getting you back to the manor and cured would be much easier.

“He’s the one who doesn’t care! He’s the one who believes you’re expendable, not us! We care about you, we’ll help you but you have to break his hold over you!” Tim said as clearly but as quickly as he could.

“Shut up!” Vlad shouted turning toward him. Before he could attack, Jason launches a wooden stake at him. It doesn’t kill him but it knocks them to the ground. “Kill them, Y/n! Kill them right now!”

You groan. Your hands grip your hair and begin to pull. You felt as if your head was being torn apart. You fall to your knees. A large part of you wanted to kill them, needed to kill them. Yet a big enough part of you didn’t.

“Y/n,” Jason says, softly. He slowly knelt a few feet in front of you. 

“Kill me,” You whimper, looking into his eyes. “I can’t hold myself back for long,”

“You can,” Jason encourages you. “You’re not going to hurt me, Dick or Tiny Tim,” Tim scowls but remains silent. “You’re Y/n Y/L/N. You were turned when you were 18 years old but you’re 24. You’re favorite food is y/f/f and your favorite show is y/f/s. You always let me sneak into your room if I was having trouble sleeping and you always helped me through the bad days just like I did for you. We look after each other, we have since we met each other. That didn’t stop when I died and it isn’t going to stop since you’re a vampire,”

In the corner of your eye you see Dick and Tim going to end Vlad. Something within you snaps. You snarl and before you know it you’re protecting your master. Before you can reach Dick and Tim, something pierces your shoulder. You look down to see a similar grappling hook hooked into you.

You gasp as Jason yank you back. You snarl and struggle but Jason is able to fight against you allowing Dick and Tim to destroy your master.

“No! NO!” You scream. The pain of your bond to Dracula is excoriating. You scream and writhe on the ground.

“It’s alright sis,” Jason whispers, knocking you out with a special tool they used on all the other vampires. “You’re safe now,” He whispers picking you up. “How do we cure her?”

“We have a serum at the manor,” Tim says,

“Bring it to my place,” Jason ordered. Tim goes to argue but Dick lays a hand on his shoulder. Dick nods and Jason nods back.

****

When you wake up you have the worst hangover known to man. You groan, your hand slapping your forehead. You try to think about what could have given you this feeling but you get nothing. Until everything comes rushing back to you a minute later.

All the killings, Dracula and the whole vampire ordeal hardly phases you. What makes your heart quench is the man you saw before you passed out.

“Jason!” You cry out, sitting up quickly. The motion causes you to groan again.

“Easy, easy,” You’re gently pushed back onto the bed. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” Opening your eyes, you look at Jason. You really look at him. He still has that spark, that anger in his eyes but there’s also relief and happiness. You lift your hand and gently caress his face. He leans into your touch.

“You’re real,” You whisper.

“Yeah, I’m real,” He whispers, tears coming to his eyes. “I thought I lost you there for a second,” He laughs.

“I did lose you,” You whimper. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” Jason gently pushes you over and climbs into the bed. You instantly hug him with all your might. “I’m here now and I won’t be leaving your side for a damn long time,”

“You saved me,” You whisper. “You, Dick and Tim,” You whimper the tears coming down your face.

“You just got a little lost for a while,” Jason muttered. “You would do the same if any one of us was in your position,” You nod, snuggling into his chest. He rubs circles into your back. “Everything’s going to be ok, now... You’re cured, Dracula’s dead and you’re with me,”

“Can I stay with you?” You whisper, looking up at him.

“I thought I told you that you weren’t leaving my side for a long time,” Jason smirks. “We have 6 years to catch up on and I need my big sis to keep my head on straight,”

“I need you too, Jason...” You whisper. “God, do I need you,” You snuggle back into his chest. He kisses the top of your head and holds you even tighter. “I was so lost without you,”

“Shh.. You don’t have to worry about living without me again,” Jason promises.

“Good... Because next time, you die I die,” Jason smirks.

“We’re going to be one kick ass team,” Jason mutters. You grin closing your eyes. The both of you got the first real sleep you had since Jason died.

[darkfearsandkittyears]

Y'all, it's Whumptober! I'm super excited!

Okay, uh...funny story [and super embarrassing for me] I am a highly unorganized person, I have a calendar in my room, but it's so much easier to check the date on the huge calendar in the kitchen! So, I calculated the days till October in August, and promptly forgot to write prompts and outlines, [even though I pants most of my works].

Fast forward to today, when I see my mom writing down the October events. I was like, oh, she's just reminding herself for next month.

Then I realized.

I literally forgot that September comes right before October.

I literally thought that I had another month to plan ideas.

One of you come whack me on the head, I really need it.

Anywho, let's get on with the show!!

"Come on, Damian! Reach for it." Jason dangled Damian's bottle, inches from the baby's hands. Damian whined and stretched his arms out as far as they would go, attempting to snatch his bottle.  Jason smiled at the child. "Scoot forward. Like this." He demonstrated, pulling his body along with his arms.  Damian stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, then cooed a little.  "Yeah, it looks whack. But come on." Jason shrugged and put the bottle down, wagging Damian's little toy dog instead. On what planet did this qualify as a dog? It looked more like a deformed elephant.  The woman at the store had insisted it was a dog….he had to get Damian some more toys. All the parenting books said that babies needed good toys for development. "Come on buddy, get your..animal." Jason called. Damian laid his head on the quilt and sucked his thumb. Jason snapped a quick picture as the little boy nodded off, tuckered out by 'tummy time'. "Come on Dames, don't fall asleep just yet." Jason said, grunting as he got to his feet. The wound he'd sustained wasn't helping any, and the painkillers weren't working right, thanks to the pit.  Oh well.  "Come on kid, you can't fall asleep on your stomach." Jason rolled the sleepy baby over on his back. Big blue eyes batted up at him, laced with sleep.  Looked like Bruce, a little.  House of Wayne.  Once upon a time, Jason had wanted to use the kid as leverage...but this was a baby, and his brother. He'd realized that, but realized it a little late. Damian deserved to grow up, shielded from batdad's nonsense and in a world without Joker.  Godamn it, Talia was right.  Having a 'family' around him had cleared his head. And screwed up his plans. Majorly. But he wouldn't trade it for anything.  Besides, he'd nearly had Joker's brains splattered against the wall yesterday, right in front of Bruce's face.  He'd make them watch, make them all watch when he pulled the trigger on Joker. For himself. For Barbara.  For Damian. Maybe then, when Joker was dead, he'd present Damian to Bruce. Let Bruce wage war against the House of al Ghul while he and Damian ran for the hills. Then they'd double back and destroy both families. He couldn't kill Bruce, not until Damian was older. Jason was no Willis Todd, he was far from willing to force his brother into a life with no father. Picking sides would be Damian's choice, when he got older. But for now, it was Damian, Jason and Talia against the Joker and Batdad.  Not a hard fight.  Especially when Jason had the upper hand.  "We're gonna be just fine." Jason smiled down at the sleeping baby. "We're already winning." Damian's eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a tiny snore. Jason picked him up and transferred him to his playpen, then wandered out of the living room and into the bedroom that he'd converted into a gym.  A rumble of thunder burst through the room, and Jason paused, hoping it wouldn't wake Damian up. That was pretty loud, for thunder. The ground seemed to shake with the sound.  The pull up bar he'd installed yesterday clattered to the ground, and he flinched lightly as an image of a crowbar flashed before his eyes. It felt as if something had hit him in the back, but he chalked it up to imagination. He was probably imagining the fog around him too.  Some things Joker gave him, he could never get rid of.  But Damian began to cry, loud, hysterical wails that sent fear up Jason's spine. Another rumble broke through the air as Jason sprinted out of the room. A sickening crack ricocheted through the house, and Jason unwillingly moved to the left as something brushed his right shoulder.  A support beam.  "Damian!" Jason had never moved so fast, weaving past and through the falling drywall and wood. He was only feet away from the playpen when Damian's wails choked to a stop, as if someone had turned them off. Through the fog and falling objects, he reached into the playpen and curled around the child, shielding him with his body as he tried to find an exit.  Damian's body was limp in Jason's arms, not a cry or a coo. Jason risked a

glance at the child's closed eyes and pale, dust covered face. He shoved the blanket up to cover Damian's nose and rushed blindly into the direction of the doors. Behind him, a beam fell and what was left of the house shuddered.  An eerie feeling washed over Jason, settling right in the pit of his stomach. Everything went quiet, but Jason tensed, alert.  A hot burst of air slammed into his back, and he knew he'd been right to keep alert. Jason grunted as he was thrown into what was left of a wall, which crumbled, pinning his legs down. His mind fogged like a static TV, and he could feel warm air.  Fire.  Then realization hit.  Damian was no longer in his arms.  "Damian. Damian!" His throat was raw, coated in drywall dust and dirt. But he yelled on, hoping, needing to hear anything from the rubble.  But there wasn't a sound.  Jason pulled his leg from under the rubble and plowed through it to the best of his abilities, climbing over and under and around piles of garbage that had once been a house. There was an odd feeling in his leg, the only other thought that wasn't an urgent repeat of, "Find Damian!". But he quickly suppressed the feeling, because through the fog and dust and smoke, a tiny hand protruded from under a beam. Jason attempted to lift it, but couldn't. Damian was trapped under an air pocket, but any wrong movement would send it all crashing atop him.  A lever.  Jason searched desperately for a board or pole to use as a lever, but saw nothing. But then his eyes scanned over his own leg, and he had to look back at it.  His foot was quite literally facing the wrong way. The odd feeling vanished and became a sharp pain that nearly took his breath away.  Focus, Jason. The League had trained him as a sniper, and he was good at it. He excelled, even.  But all snipers knew how to do one thing. Hyperfixate. And that skill, with the help of adrenaline, might just save both his and Damian's lives.  Jason looked around the room once again, eyeing the position of the beam that Damian was under. If he could manage to get across the rubble, he could crawl into the air pocket and rescue Damian. Jason pulled his body up and over rubble, ignoring the extreme pain that was now burning through his body. At some point, that white agony would get the best of him, but for now, adrenaline was masking most of it.  "Damian!" Jason called again, nearly falling over a piece of wall. His broken leg slammed into a sheet of metal, which dislodged. The beam began sliding, and Jason screamed, unwillingly. He felt his legs propelling him towards where his brother lay, and he pulled Damian into his arms and cringed as the beam fell down around them.  "Damian...Dames." Jason panted as the dust settled, smoothing the dirt off his brother's pale face. The baby was too pale. He had to get him out of here. The falling rubble was controlling the fire, but smoke inhalation would kill them. And Damian had been unconscious for far too long, but there wasn't a single scratch on the child to evidence any injuries. Jason growled in frustration. "Damn it!" His entire body hurt, his leg most of all. Adrenaline was wearing off...the pain was mixing with the green light of the pit, and together they nearly blinded him.  Rage, and pain. Great combination.  He looked around for a way out. It was like a grave. Tight, and hard to breathe.  No Jason.  No.  His breath caught, and he knew he'd just screwed up. There wasn't enough air in his lungs, and he could breathe it in quickly enough. He clutched Damian to his chest and tried to get in a breath, to no avail.  Whimpers punctuated his breath, and the rational part of him could have laughed at himself.  But he couldn't. Whimpers turned to screams, and nothing made sense anymore. He screamed the only name he knew would come for him. "Bruce! Bruce, please!" He could hear his own screams dying out, feel himself losing a grip on consciousness. "Dad! Dad...Bruce…" His voice rasped into a whisper, and he gritted his teeth. "Batman! Dad! I need you! Please...please dad!"  Not a soul

stirred.  "That's right. He's not coming for you." Joker whispered sadistically.  Jason shook his head desperately, tears mixed with blood running down his face. "Shut up, you stupid clown! Please! Bruce. Bruce! Please!"  Like a miracle on Christmas eve, a ray of light shone into their prison, and a familiar shadow fell across Jason, along with another pound of dust. Damian wailed, and Jason shielded himself and the child against the dust, then spiraled into an exhausted darkness.  Four hours later, he pulled himself out of the pit of unconsciousness. "Dami?" Jason slurred, exhausted.  "He's fine, Jay. With Alfred."  That voice.  Jason made an attempt to bolt upright, only to find that he was secured to the bed.  "You have two broken legs, five ribs, son." Bruce muttered, undoing the restraints.  They must have given him some hefty painkillers, since he could feel nothing. "Call me son again-" Jason snarled, his voice cracked and dry. "How am I your son, if you had the nerve to let him live?! I gave you the choice last night, Bruce. Save me, or save him. You threw a batarang at my throat instead."  "Jason-" Bruce looked wounded, his jaw working with words he didn't know how to say.  "No! You don't get to "Jason" me. Not after what you did. You don't deserve to have your son."  "Jason."  Jason looked up at Bruce. "What?"  "I put a batarang in your throat?"  Disbelief surged through Jason. "You didn't know? All those years of aiming those damn things, and you didn't know?" Bruce's face was as stone cold as ever. "No." Jason had probably imagined the look of sorrow on his father's face. It wasn't like Jason meant anything to him anymore. "It only nicked me, lucky for you. Doesn't even matter, I'm alive. Surprising, isn't it? You wanted me dead and him alive. What, you got a crush on him?" He looked away, unwilling to meet Bruce's eyes.  "I hate him, Jason. I just can't kill him."  "You screwed me over Bruce. All this," Jason gestured to himself, "Is your fault."  "You have a son, Jason." Bruce said softly.  "He's not my son. He's my brother." Jason replied, tone dark. "He's your son."  There was a dead silence that almost resonated. Jason chanced a look at Bruce.  For once in his life, the man looked truly stunned.  Did he break him? "Bruce…?"  "Talia's child?" Bruce whispered.  "Yes." A sudden whim forced him to add, "And you can't have him. You're not going to get him killed too." "I wasn't going to make him a Robin."  "Cut the bullcrap, Bruce!" Jason screamed, startling both himself and Bruce. "Yeah, maybe I almost got us both killed, but I've never put a gun or a batarang in his hand and told him to throw it!"  Bruce hesitated before speaking. "It wasn't your fault. The city was destroying a building, and the explosion shook the foundation of other buildings. I couldn't get to you two as quickly as I should have. I'm sorry, Jaybird." Bruce sighed. Sorry. Sorry doesn't cut it, Bruce, Jason wanted to say. "Whatever, Bruce.", was all that came from his throat. "Not the first time you've forgotten me, anyways."  "If I had known-"  Rage surged through Jason. "Save it! Why the hell is he still alive? That's my only question. Why. Isn't. He. Dead? Don't kill him. Fine. But let me kill him. Look at Barbara! Isn't what he did to me enough?! When will it be enough, Bruce? When he murders Damian?" Hands gripped Jason's shoulders, and he stopped his tirade. "Son…" Bruce began, then stopped. Jason could feel his face crumple, not a word slipping past his dry lips. "I can't kill him, Jason. I can't let myself go off that edge. "You failed me, Bruce. When will it be enough?"  Bruce didn't answer. Jason swallowed against the knot in his throat and spoke roughly. "I just want him dead. All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. That, the abandonment, it doesn't even hurt anymore, but I wanted you to kill him. For me." Jason's face twisted into a scowl that thankfully repressed the tears. "Make him die." He spat. "I can't, Jason. I'm sorry Jason. It's meaningless, but I'm

so sorry." Bruce looked physically pained.  He's acting, Jason told himself. "If you're sorry, don't let him hurt anyone else."  "I can't promise that."  "I know you can't. But I can!" Jason yelled, finally. But instead of his rage getting the best of him, it all just evaporated. He felt nauseated, as if someone had punched him in the gut. But all he vomited up were words, words that he shouldn't say. "All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. I don't care about that...but didn't you care about me?"  Bruce's expression darkened to something that Jason had never seen before. "I put the Joker in a body cast for a year. That permanent limp he has is evidence of it. I couldn't bring myself to murder him, because in his dead eyes, all I saw was myself in him. And it was all too peaceful. He tortured you for months. I'll torture him for the rest of his life." Bruce said the words like a vow, determination lacing his tone. Jason stared straight ahead in shock. Silence settled over the room.  "You-when was Joker dead?" Jason finally asked, almost dreading the answer.  "Dick killed him when he found out what happened. I couldn't let him live with the remorse, so I revived him." "Dick….killed him." Jason repeatedly slowly, almost dumbly. He wanted to feel anger that Bruce had brought the damn clown to life, but he couldn't.  "He always had a temper." Bruce said lamely.  Oh great, both of them were shutting down their emotions and verbalization. "Didn't think he'd go that far." "I did. He loves you, Jason."  "Don't talk to me about Grayson. He managed to do what I've been trying to do." Jason managed a rough laugh. "Isn't it funny, Bruce?" Bruce only stared at him, a near pitiful expression on his face.  It wasn't until Bruce hugged him that Jason realized that there were hot tears streaking down his cheeks. Slowly, Jason hugged back, blinking back the stinging wetness of his eyes.  This, all this 'emotional seminar with the Batman' was a total mistake. So Jason let go of Bruce and pushed him a little to regain personal space.  Bruce unsurprisingly was fine with taking back his boundaries. "You're doing alright, Jaylad. You took in a son that wasn't yours and you're raising him."  "I took him in for all the wrong reasons." Jason bit his tongue. "And what are your reasons now?"  "Touchè."  Parents...and adoptive older brothers make mistakes with kids. They fail them and screw them up. But Jason's mistakes with Damian could be fixed.  Jason couldn't. Not until the clown died. "You can always make the present better than the future." Bruce said.  Dammit, old man. "Whatever." Valid points.  Very valid points. "Who else trained you in manipulation?"  Bruce just looked confused. Either this was more manipulation, or Bruce being bipolar by the days.  Whichever one, Jason would try his luck. It was a mistake, destined for disaster.  But he just couldn't help himself.

[scattered-winter]

welcome to my first music meta post!! I’m going to basically nerd out about the soundtrack from Batman: Under the Red Hood for the next little bit :)

first of all, Christopher Drake absolutely KILLED it on this movie! The entire score is the perfect mix of electronic, strings, and low brass that just paints a perfect picture of Gotham. He understood the assignment!!!

(I’m gonna add a cutoff because I foresee this post getting pretty long lol)

But what I really want to talk about here is Track 01 A Death in the Family (where the Joker kills Jason.) It sets the mood for the rest of the movie, and the soundtrack is a huge part of that! One of my favorite parts of this score is the strings from 0:15 to 0:38. This little melody forms the undertone of most of the entire soundtrack, and I like to think of it as the overall theme of the movie (it’s in the opening sequence as well, which just solidifies my thinking). Right after, at 0:39, it cuts off and starts a soft drumbeat that just keeps driving it on, with some softer woodwinds and strings in the background, and then it hits you in the face at 0:48. The thing I like about 0:48 to 0:54 is how you can almost see the crowbar swinging in time with the drums. It isn’t synced in the scene, but it does add a really cool effect that makes it so you can tell what’s happening just by listening to the score. Then there’s the undertone of low strings again at 0:55 (I just really love it ok), which continues until about 1:04, where everything suddenly cuts off and there’s just this Very Unsettling vibe. I can’t really tell what instruments are playing here, but it’s giving off the perfect amount of Oh Shit vibes that are honestly the best way to tell that the Joker is in a scene. The Freaky Sounds continue until about 1:20, then it changes to a very soft, eerie whine (that’s the best word I have for it tbh). Really this whole section (1:04-1:49) triggers my fight-or-flight response. You can almost Feel the fear and discomfort just seeping out of the music. Then at 1:50, the low strings are back, but this time they’re much more prominent than before. And then, we get to one of my total favorite parts!! 2:14, with the electronic thrumming while the low strings continue in the background! This is the part when Jason spits at the Joker and then grins at him, with the blood running down his face. It’s such a chilling scene already, but the intense yet soft score just cranks it up to 250%. (I should also mention the Creepy Sounds returning for a brief moment at 2:21, which seems to be the Joker’s motif throughout the movie). Then at 2:26 it just ramps up as the Joker continues to beat Jason, but then cuts off at 2:33 when the scene cuts to Ra’s Al Ghul as he realizes that Batman won’t make it in time. The soft strings are back again, but this time they’re playing a slightly different melody. I really love the melody here. It’s similar to what we’ve heard before, but the notes move different directions than we expect, and it makes the piece more interesting. It also (to me at least) conveys more desperation and sadness than the other melody does. Then at 2:42 it picks up in tempo and volume, and the drums are back! To me, this part just bleeds desperation. Batman’s racing to save Jason from the Joker, and it’s so intense and just desperate. This more intense section lasts until about 3:01, where it cuts back to the Joker’s creepy scraping sounds. Just like before, the other instruments fade out until it’s just the eerie sound. There’s some drums in the background, but the eerie music is at the forefront. I really loved how the Joker was portrayed, both in the score and his voice acting. He’s already pretty much the creature of my nightmares, but his motif alone could be in a horror movie or something. The Joker’s theme continues until 3:12, where my Absolute Favorite Part of the score is!! (I’ve already said that like 3 times but just bear with me ok I love the whole thing). The drums kick in, a little louder than before, and at 3:23, the electronic thrumming is back, rising in volume and pitch with the drums. The original melody with the low strings returns as the undertone, and is moving down as the rest of the pitches are moving up. This is as Jason is standing up and trying to get out, and I honestly think that this little section here could be his theme pre-Lazarus Pit. It’s determined, and stubborn, and absolutely refusing to fall. This theme just rises and builds more power, with higher-pitched strings and some low brass joining at 3:41, and it reaches its climax right at 3:59. The drums are louder than ever, and the orchestra is just holding the notes and slowly climbing in pitch, bit by bit. The climax is short; it ends right at about 4:11, as Jason realizes he has no way out. The loud drums and orchestra cuts off, and its just those soft, low strings, and a very gentle thrumming. I really like this part because it still has that intense drive, but it’s softer and less noticeable. Jason hasn’t given up, but he’s resolved to sit and wait for Batman to find him. And then at 4:29, that eerie scraping is back when Jason notices the bomb. It crescendos sharply, building and building until 4:40 when it just.....cuts off. This is probably my favorite part of the animation, where you can SEE the hope and fear and resolve just drain from his face and get replaced by acceptance. There’s another eerie little noise at the very end, and then there’s nothing but silence.

This entire piece has a lot of different emotions in the different sections, but perhaps my favorite thing about Christopher Drake’s composing is that throughout the entire score is this underlying sense of absolute heartbreak. Even during the louder and more intense sections, like where Batman is rushing to save Jason (2:42-3:01), and even when Jason is trying to escape (3:12-4:11), there’s still this feel of absolute despair. We know Jason’s story. We know Batman doesn’t make it there in time, and that it doesn’t matter how much strength and courage Jason mustered at the end. We know how all this ends, but we can’t help but hope anyway. And that’s the precise emotion that the music contains, which is just incredible.

anyway, thanks for letting me ramble!! I actually had a lot of fun with this one, and so if y’all liked reading it, I’ll do another one!! (also if anyone has any specific requests I’m open to suggestions!)

[fandom-writer642]

Street Rat Christmas

Summary: It’s (Y/n)’s first Christmas season with their new family but they don’t want to give up an old tradition. The problem? Jason and Selina are the only one’s in the family that have heard of the tradition, a Street Rat Christmas. The Batfamily, the Kent’s, and the Outlaws are going to be in for the culture shock of their lives as they find out why Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning are always so peaceful in the City of Demons, no matter the crimes that took place just before.

Note: Gender Neutral!Reader, Sweet and Friendly!Reader

Warning: Mention of Death

•••

Yet another sigh escaped from (Y/n)’s lips as they watched the snow gently fall to the ground through the window. The book that they were reading was abandoned in their lap as their (e/c) eyes watched the snowflakes shine and float down in the golden sunlight. Damian couldn’t help but frown at his sibling’s actions, he had been with his father for the past five years and he himself understood that Christmas was a time to be happy. Yet, he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that his normally happy sibling was depressed. Even Damian felt rather pleasant and calm during the two days the holiday was overly focused on.

“Is something the matter (L/n)? Typically you’re more chipper.”

“It’s just my first Christmas without my parents,” (Y/n) replied to him rather sadly. They were remembering how fun Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning always was for their family. Perhaps they could sneak out tonight and join the festivities? “It’s strange, we would be out preparing by now.”

Damian gave (Y/n) a rather quizzical look at that. He understood when they said that they would miss their parents, he couldn’t blame them. However, (Y/n) didn’t come from an amazing or rich family so the preparation note caught him off guard. (Y/n) could’ve been dubbed a street rat by many different people before Bruce had adopted them, and Damian was pretty sure that they had been called a street rat before. Hearing them say preparing was a strange thing, it wasn’t possible for their family since they couldn’t afford something big. Yet, it sounded like a yearly thing for his newest sibling to go through during the holiday season. (Y/n) shot him a smile before they left for their room, taking their book with them. Damian left the study shortly after (Y/n) had left and found himself at the enterance of the living room.

The room was lovely and had many decorations hung up around the room, making it look like the room had been part of a winter wonderland competition and the music in the background was a nice touch. Dick was sitting in an arm chair with Kori on his lap as the pair talked to Roy and Jason who sat on the closer end of the couch. Tim was talking to Kon and Lois on the other side of the couch while Cass talked quietly with Steph, Barbara, and Kate. Selina was sitting next to Bruce as he talked with Clark who had Jon at his side. The room was rather busy with chatter and far too loud for his tastes but he had learned to live with it at this point.

“Hey Damian!” Jon called out to his friend when he noticed him at the entryway. All conversation turn to a pivoting stop to the point that the sweet Christmas songs filled the air of the room. It was a known fact that Damian didn’t spend much time with his family on Christmas Eve until after lunch which was in two hours. “I was wondering where you were.”

Damian nodded his own greeting and understanding to his friend’s words. “I’m sure Jon. I’m however curious about something that doesn’t quite involve me but it does involve (L/n).”

That had caught the whole room’s attention. Everyone knew that (Y/n) was a helpful and sweet soul with little to absolutely no hurtful bone in their whole body.

“Is she alright?” Dick asked worriedly.

“Currently, I’m unaware. I’m well aware that it is their first Christmas without their family but they said something that peaked my interest.”

“What was it?”

“Well, they simply said that their family and themself would be out preparing for some sort of event at this point in time.”

Damian didn’t miss the look that Selina and Jason shared with the other, or the faint smiles on their lips. They had a look in their eyes that was similar if not identical to the one (Y/n) had held not that long ago.

“Preparing for what?” Tim asked curiously. His younger sibling tended to keep closer to Damian and Jason more than anyone else the family knew with the exception perhaps being Alfred.

Damian simply shook his head and kept himself from insulting the older boy, “I’m unaware. It simply peaked my interest because as we all know, (L/n) didn’t come from a very financially stable family. The way that they talked made it sound like an annual event.”

“A tradition on Christmas Eve? In Gotham?” Roy had almost laughed in disbelief. “That’s completely ridiculous. You said it yourself demon spawn, (Y/N) came from a pretty poor family, they don’t exactly have an overwhelming amount their family and them could do.

“No true,” Jason cut off before anyone could agree with his redhead friend. “I actually knew (Y/n) before she ever even met Bruce and moved in because of the festivities that take place on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Most people call it a Street Rat Christmas but the official term is a Street Rat Holiday. To put it simply, it’s the only break any street rat or poor family tends to get throughout the whole year.”

Bruce leaned forward at the newly acquired information. To him it sounded just like a charity event that takes place on Christmas Eve and Christmas in the worker side of town. The man couldn’t help but feel surprised that he had never heard of such an event even though he lived in Gotham for so long.

“How much do you know about it?” Tim asked.

“A lot,” Jason replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “I still tend to go every Christmas Eve no matter what. I don’t count the years I was either dead or presumably dead but I still go, I don’t care if there is a mission, I go.”

“What happens?

“Peace,” Jason smiled slightly. “We should go tonight. You guys just can’t attack or snap at anyone, you have to enjoy yourselves.”

“Why on earth would we snap or attack?” Dick spoke in surprise.

Jason couldn’t stop the small snort or the smirk pulling on his face. “Villains attend the festivities as well. There was an arrangement made between the villains, people, and GCPD that as long as they didn’t harm or make any sort of threats to anyone for that night or the next morning that they could attend.”

“And people talk and interact with them?” Kate spoke up, looking rather stunned by the information.

Selina couldn’t help but nod in agreement, “indeed. I attended a few years back and (Y/n) was there with their family while talking to all sorts of people. They mostly talked to Riddler, Two-Face, and Penguin when it came to interacting with the villains but they did interact with every villain. That includes Joker. Their family was always active in helping set up the event.

Jon had perked up like a puppy dog before speeding out of the room and up the stairs before coming back with a rather flustered looking (Y/n) in his arms. Gently he set them down on the floor which caused them to let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t like they didn’t trust Jon, they did, but it was different when he came into their room, picked them up and rushed them down to the living room at super speed. They were still getting used to the whole “living with superheroes” thing as it had only been two months since they moved in.

“What is going on?” They questioned after a moment.

“Just talking about how a Street Rat Christmas functions,” Jason replied to his younger sibling.

No one could miss the way that (Y/n)’s eyes had lit up at the mention of the event. They seemed happier almost immediately at the reminder of the event.

“Oh! Can we go?” (Y/n) turned to Bruce with large kitten eyes that Selina most definitely approved of. “Pleeeeaaaassseee?”

Bruce chuckled at his child’s beg for approval. He already knew what his choice was going to be but first, “I want to know more about this event before I agree to anything.”

“Well, where did I leave off?” Selina wondered. The newest family addition sat on the floor near Bruce and Selina while dragging Damian down and over with them.

“Villains,” Kori reminded.

Selina snapped her fingers with a smile, “right!”

–––

The group had arrived at a large park filled with people and laughter. A giant tree stood tall in the middle of the park and was decorated with all sorts of different and even strange ordiments that were clearly brought or made by the people at the party. Damian could help but let a faint smile appear on his lips as his sibling dragged him toward the main party.

None of the secret heroes could miss the villains in the crowd that greeted the pair with an honest to god real smile. They even saw Joker gift (Y/n) with a very pretty box, the fact made them tense at the sight but for some reason Jason was calm about it. He was calm about seeing his murderer gift his little sibling with a box that could very easily hold a trigger bomb. It made no sense and yet that is how it played out. The young Wayne had opened the gift with a smile and found it to be a purple and green scarf, something that was clearly made with the help of the Riddler.

The family moved around and tried the different activities such as a snow man building contest (Tim and Dick got third place), a scavenger hunt (Damian, Jason, and (Y/n) had easily won that), dance battle to Christmas music (Selina joined forces with Ivy and they got fifth), create an ordiment to hang on the giant tree, ice Christmas cookies, drink hot cocoa, ice skating, a Christmas song karaoke challenge, and many more events. Homeless kids and families were given blankets and clothes as well as other supplies at the end of the night. At three minutes to midnight everyone had gathered around the tree and many were talking excitedly, the kids especially.

“We wish you a merry Christmas”

The Waynes were surprised when everyone began to sing in perfect harmony, the villains, Jason, (Y/N), Selina, and many others were leading the uncertain children and newcomers in the song. Jason had a young girl in his arms who was singing along with him while looking at the glowing tree.

“We wish you a merry Christmas/ We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year”

Dick, Kori, Roy, and Steph had joined in the singing as well but to their surprise so had Damian. It was much quieter than the others but still noticeable enough.

“Good tidings we bring to you and your kin/We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year”

As everyone sang Bruce had decided one thing, he was going to have to participate in a Street Rat Christmas every year until he died. His family had been happier than they have in ages while Selina, Jason, and (Y/n) all got to keep a familiar tradition close to them and have the time to remember those that they love and miss; they all did.

•••

Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I hope you all have enjoyed this mini story and have a good holiday! I’m so sorry about lack of activity but I’ve been sooooo busy and a lot of things have been going on with my family so I’ve been stressed. Cya next time! I’m planning Batfamily x Reader x Miraculous Ladybug with Damianette in it, I’ve fallen into a hole and I can’t get out. That story will probably be a series but bare with me, I have little to know means to write as of recent do to issues.

[anjuschiffer]

Amira Wayne - Chapter 7

:3c

I exchanged @biodad-bruce-month‘s Day 7: Fashion Show with Fight!

Chapter 7: Fight

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P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords

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MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Amira looked at the white board inside her walk-in closet, reviewing the new information she got last night. During last night’s patrol, Amira took a break halfway through, using the time to ask Tikki more questions regarding the miraculous. 

They were earrings, which thankfully, can shift in design but can’t change its original form: earrings. 

So here was Amira, sporting all black studs. Simple and hidden in plain sight. Amira also found out that the appearance of the earrings can always be changed as Tikki doesn’t have to use too much energy to do so. Therefore, Amira has been planning on changing its appearance after every akuma attack, an easy tactic to see exactly how much Hawkmoth himself knows about the Ladybug miraculous.

Next up, her yo-yo. Turns out that it’s more than just that. While it works as a tracker and phone, it only works when Amira is transformed. No yo-yo, no way to communicate with Chat. Because of this, Amira decided to get him a burner phone to make sure the two can communicate outside the suit. Will also help in case they have to communicate during an energy break while there is an akuma. 

Her costume. Thankfully, Tikki had told her that it morphs into whichever design the holder has in their head. With more concentration on the design, the more the costume will have what the holder would want. After patrol, Amira made it her mission to get the utility belt in her design and after plenty of trial and errors, Amira got it. 

Now she had smoke pellets, a taser, a small utility knife and a first aid kit at her disposal. Of course, the belt came with a price - her dagger.

Brushing out her hair, Amira looked at her reflection. She always hated having long hair. While Dick always told her that he liked her hair when it was long (because he liked braiding it for her), Amira never took a shine to having long hair. 

It was a hassle to brush out, to clean. During track (even though she was only on the team for two years), Amira hated seeing other girls have their lucky amulets in their hair. A special pin or hair tie from their fathers and sometimes from their-

“-to Marinette!” Tikki yelled, snapping Amira from her trip down memory hell.

“Tikki, I live across the school. I won’t be late.” Marinette stated, continuing to stare at her reflection.

“I know that, but your phone has been buzzing nonstop!” Tikki said, showing her the multiple texts she was receiving.

Marinette took it, smiling when she saw they were from Wally and Dick, telling her to have a better day at school than yesterday’s disaster. “Are they from your friends?”

“You can say that.” Marinette said, tucking her phone into her pocket, looking at her reflection once again. “Tikki. Can you grab my fabric scissors on the table near my monitors?”

-

“It suits you.” Alya randomly told Marinette after the end of their first class. “Your hair, I mean. Don’t think I didn’t notice it.” Marinette simply blinked, wondering why people always said a compliment before bringing up their actual motives. “Name’s Alya-”

“-Cesaire. I know. Now if you excuse me, I have a class to get to.” Marinette filled in, getting up to leave, only for Alya to grab her wrist. “Let go.”

“Sorry!” Alya apologized, letting go of Marinette. “I just...I just wanted to tell you that you were a bit too harsh on Mlle Bustier yesterday. You should apologize.” Alya didn’t expect a scoff from Marinette.

“I’m not going to apologize for standing up for what I know is right.”

“Mlle Bustier-”

“-should’ve done her job correctly instead of enabling, especially now that Hawkmoth is a threat. But even with Hawkmoth out of the picture, Ms.Bustier shouldn’t have just assumed it was Ivan who instigated the argument. There’s always two sides of a story and we should always make it our job to figure out who is right. Sometimes, we even figure out why things happened the way they did. Sometimes, we find out we are wrong and when that happens, we have to accept it. If not, how else will we grow?”

With those words, Marinette gave Alya a little bow before going to her next class. Hopefully Marinette can find M. D'Argencourt during her break to try and convince him to let her join the fencing club...again.

 -

“Well, that went easier than I thought.” Marinette told herself, walking down the school steps. M. D'Argencour had happily accepted her into the team, proceeding to tell her the team’s schedule.

While it took a while to hunt the coach down, Marinette was about to find him towards the end of the day.

“Why exactly do you want to know fencing?” Tikki asked her from the pocket inside her sweater.

“I just found it...interesting.” Marinette lied, knowing she couldn’t tell Tikki that her father never let her take up the hobby. While Bruce had allowed Jason to learn how to use a sword, Jason quickly dropped it. Dick was also taught how to use a sword, but he complained how annoying it would be to carry it around, hence the reason why he carries escrima sticks.

While fencing wasn’t the same, fencing will help her gain more skills she can use during her fights. You never know after all.

After greeting Tom and Sabine and squishing Bridgette’s cheeks, Marinette made her way to her room, only to find him in there...again.

“If it’s about the Miraculous, I’m still not giving it to you.” Amira said, throwing her school bag to the floor. She whispered the renouncing spell before reaching into her jewelry box, where countless dupes rested. Oh how she wanted to cackle when she saw her father look at her with wide eyes. 

“Amira, hand them over.” Bruce ordered, stretching out his hand in hopes of Amira doing the correct thing.

“Why won’t you trust me?” Amira gritted, balling her fists. “Why don’t you trust me to do the right thing?”

“I do trust you.” Bruce said, taking a step forward. “That’s why I expect you-”

“I can’t just hand earrings over! The people need me! They need Ladybird to-”

“You don’t need to be running around Paris playing hero, Amira. Let Diana-”

“Must I remind you that I was given the earrings? It’s me who they want! Me! And no! I’m not playing hero! Hell, I’m not even a hero! I’m a vigilante! I’m doing what’s right by being Ladybird, by protecting the people the only way I can.” Amira reasoned, looking at her father. “And trust? Doesn’t that go both ways?” Amira set out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding in. “After all, when were you going to tell me about Batgirl? About...the new Robin?”

How Amira wanted to scream when Bruce remained silent. 

“How did you find out?” Amira scoffed.

“Find out? The whole internet was talking about it! My class was talking about just earlier today!”

It happened during break. Just as Marinette was leaving the class, she bumped into the second surprise of the day in the form of teen model Adrien Agreste. 

Adrien apologized for the accident when Chloe pulled him into the class and began to ‘teach’ him what it meant to be part of a school. The only reason Marinette even remained in class at that point was because she heard Adrien talk about this being his first time in a school...meaning that up until now, he had been homeschooled all his life.

Kinda how like she was up until she was around seven to eight years old. But to be homeschooled until 13? How lonely he must have been. Especially when she heard he was the only child at home.

You’re really ungrateful.

Marinette stiffened, feeling her heart pick up in pace upon remembering Jason’s words. She already knew that...she knew, but was it wrong of her to want something else? To want to have something different than what she currently had?

As Marinette was fighting off the beginnings of a breakdown, Alya’s sudden burst almost triggered it.

“Since when did Robin come back to Gotham?!” Alya yelled, rising from her seat. 

Marinette didn’t need to hear any more, running out of the classroom and locking herself into one of the girl’s bathroom stalls. While she hated having breakdowns, Amira was glad to have had one, as it helped her gained more insight on how Hawkmoth’s powers worked.

He can’t control you if you’re in the middle of an emotional breakdown and can’t register his words. In other words, he can’t control you if you’re already out of control. 

Guess it’s good to know that if Joker were to ever come to Paris, Hawkmoth wouldn’t be able to take over him. 

Amira looked at her father, awaiting for his response. “Under different circumstances, I would have forgiven you for replacing Jason with another guy. But it hasn’t been a year since he died and you’ve already replaced him. 

You know how Jason felt, you know he lived with the fear of doing a single thing that would give you a reason to kick him out of the manor. And while you always assured him you would never do that, here you are, doing just that.” Amira watched as her vision went blurry, wiping them away as she collected herself again. 

“I wasn’t replacing-“

“You were. You are. And not only have you replaced Jason, but it seems you’ve also replaced me.” Amira looked at herself. “Batgirl? Really? You know that was the name I wanted to use if you ever let me fight crime alongside you. Of course, that never happened.”

“Amira.”

“At this point, I don’t care what you do.” Amira gripped all the turmoil inside her. “Right now. I just want you to leave.”

“Amira.”

“Leave! I don’t want to see your face Bruce!” Amira yelled, shocking herself at her outburst. 

Bruce? Why did it feel so wrong, yet so right? She tried it again. “I don’t want you anywhere near me Bruce, so leave! Just leave!”

And he did.

As she watched Bruce leave her room with a heavy heart, she slumped to the floor, standing back up when she felt something approach her. “Tikki!” Tikki appeared before her. “Spots on!” A second later, an akuma appeared before her, Amira quickly capturing it. Before letting it go, Amira quickly searched for a glass jar and a box in her desk.

She let the now purified butterfly go into the jar, surprised to see that it didn’t phase through the jar. So it was just a normal butterfly after all. When coated in magic, the magic allowed it to phase through whatever it wanted to to ensure that it made it to its target.

Calling off her transformation, Amira quickly got to work, carefully placing a tracker on the butterfly’s wing. 

“Are you alright, Marinette?” Tikki asked, looking at her holder with worried eyes.

“I’m alright Tikki. I’m alright.”

-

No, she wasn’t alright.

The next day at school, Chloe tried to stick gum in her seat as a revenge plan for once again chewing out Mlle Bustier for allowing Chloe to interrupt the classroom with another one of her stupid excuses. Not to mention Chloe using her father’s position to get away with said excuse.

It didn’t help when Marinette was stuck with Alya trying to ask her about her past in Gotham and Alya claiming to be her friend.

They barely knew each other and this girl was already clinging to her like a newborn chick. 

While Marinette tried to avoid her at all costs, Alya always found her, Marinette hating it. Didn’t she know about personal space?

Her week got worse when Chat accepted the burner phone but refused to be trained by her. Something about him not needing it.

Thankfully, she was able to vent to Dick and Wally, although more to Wally since Dick was busy with university. 

Days went by and even then, Amira knew she was never going to adjust to life in Paris.

It’s only been four akumas and this city already thinks they saved the world. 

While technically they saved Paris, Ladybird and Chat have yet to fight off a Victim that can become a potential threat to the world. Bubbler and Mr.Pigeon weren’t exactly the worst to deal with, but they weren’t the easiest to take down either. As for Stormy Weather and Lady Wifi, Ladybird realized that it was Victims like them who posed a threat to France. Victims with intangible powers were a force to be reckoned with after all. 

But just because the duo saved Paris four times, it didn’t mean their work was done. They had yet to find out who Hawkmoth was.

Oh, did she mention the ridiculous statue they made in her and Chat’s honor because of the four Victims they took down so far? Long story short, she didn’t go to the ceremony and Chat must’ve told the artist something stupid because here they were. Fighting a Victim all thanks to Chat and his loud mouth.

“Chat! Stop trying to regain your honor and let me-” Ladybird yelled, only to get pushed back by his bo.

“No! This is my fight!” Chat hissed, attempting to land a hit on his copycat. Copycat grinned as he parried all of Chat’s hits, flinging Chat’s bo to the side when he saw an opening. 

“He’s good.” Chat said, landing next to Ladybug as he retreated. Ladybird scoffed, gaining an arched brow from her partner.

“He’s good? Got some pretty low standards there Chat. Have you ever seen Nightwing in combat? This guy is nothing compared to him.” With that, Ladybird charged into the fight, picking up Chat’s bo and using it against Copycat.

The two fought, Ladybird noticing Copycat starting to hit her with less force, more sloppily. He was starting to become more aggressive, half of his hits missing. 

“Chat! Switch!” Ladybird yelled, knocking Copycat’s staff from his hands and throwing Chat his own back to him.

With Chat distracting Copycat, Ladybird waited for the perfect- there!

Chat had launched Copycat into the air, Ladybird using this to wrap him with her yo-yo and slamming him down. Holding him down, Ladybird turned to Chat.

“Where’s his akuma?”

“Here!” Chat said, taking out a photo from Copycat’s pocket. Ripping it, it released the akuma, Ladybird unwrapping her yo-yo and capturing the akuma. Now purified and having the tracker implanted, Ladybird released the butterfly. 

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybird watched as everything was returned and fixed. Turning to Chat, she glared at him. “I’ll be done here in a few minutes. Meet you at the rendezvous in a few.”

NEXT

[batarella]

I Don’t Hate You - Part 5 (Jason Todd x Reader)

will i ever find true love? with standards like this? will i ever find someone who’ll quench my thirst like jaybaby does?

nah.

(If you haven’t already noticed, since the reader is inspired by Jade West, ALL the songs in her singing scenes come from the covers by the iconic Liz Gillies! This one’s scene is inspired by Liz’s live story right here)

WORD: 6908 WARNINGS: EVEN MORE FLUFF BWAHAHAHAHA

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

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Jason: ‘don’t do it.’

Jerry the science teacher was starting to catch on to him with Jason’s eyes darting to his crotch for no reason and his hand under the desk, but Jason managed to fool him by pulling out his notebook right where his phone was and pretended to take notes with his free hand. It was getting harder to hide it though, especially when he’d crack into a wide grin in the middle of a boring discussion all of a sudden. He looked like an idiot.

Y/N: ‘I’ll fucking do it.’

Jason: ‘she’ss a teaacher.’

Y/N: ‘that hasn’t stopped me before.’

Jason was writing scribbles onto his notebook at that point, lingering his eyes on the teacher for as long as he could while his other hand blindly texted barely readable typos. How were you able to text so well?

You sent another text before he could respond. ‘I’m totally doing it.’

Jason: ‘I’m sure she wasd looookin behind yuu’

Y/N: ‘no. she was definitely looking at me. Who else would she look at when she’s talking about baby murderers.’

Jason: ‘oh.’

Jason really wanted to laugh now. He double texted.

Jason: ‘I get it now.’

Y/N: ‘im not a fucking serial killer.’

Three dots floating in a bubble followed after.

Y/N: ‘yet.’

Jason kept his eyes on the board. Thankfully, this was chemistry. Bruce taught him more about that subject than Jerry ever will. He didn’t need to listen.

Y/N: ‘it’s just her divorce.’

Jason: ‘you have got to stop asking facultyyyt memberd how their divorce is going.’

Y/N: ‘why not’

Jerry definitely caught him by now. His glances at him included unbothered shakings of his head and flattened lips. But he didn’t say anything and went on with the discussion. He probably didn’t bother. Jason would end up with the highest test score no matter what he was doing in his desk. And the man had large bags under his eyes that screamed ‘I really don’t give a fuck about any of you’ to his students.

Jason: ‘you’re worse than a serial killer.’

You: ‘Im no Amelia Dyer.’

Jason: ‘remind me to look her up.’

You: ‘she killed 400 babies and had a infant farm for 20 years before she got caught.’

Jason: ‘sounds like something you’d do’

Y/N: ‘I don’t kill babies. I just scare them.’

Jason: ‘that’s the first step right there.’

You sent a middle finger and it made him silently cackle. Somehow, your sense of humor through came off a lot less dark, maybe because you didn’t sound like you were serious, when in actuality, you probably were. It didn’t matter though. He was smiling like a crazy person in the middle of a discussion about balancing equations.

Jason placed his phone back into his pocket and waited for the bell to ring so he could go meet you at the library for the fifth week since you started. You were halfway through your sentence. He never thought he’d get there. Somehow, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the end of it as he thought he would.

Just yesterday, he told himself it was wrong to enjoy watching you scream at the stoners hiding behind the encyclopedia sections knowing no one would go in there at all. You were, quite literally, kicking them out of the library while Ms. Peterson backed you up like a shrieking duo. One of them cried while you charged at him, looking like you were about to tear his hair out and you threatening to stick his blunt up his earhole.

It went from something so obnoxious to something so amusing to watch. Perhaps the wrong was in him.

Jason listened to the teacher for the last ten minutes of the class, then the bell rung and everyone started for the exit. He picked up his bag, then took out his phone to tell you he was on his way.

“Texting in class now, Todd?”

He wanted to throw his bag, or anything he had on his hands really, to that source of that voice. Brandon. Fucking Brandon. With his still throbbing new nose and football varsity jacket over his shoulders that made him look even more loathsome than he already does. He came up to Jason and stood him off.

“Every single day for the past week, you text in class.” Brandon brought his leg up to rest on a chair beside Jason. “What? You think you’re so much smarter than everyone now?”

“I’m smarter than you, that’s for sure. But that’s not really much to brag about.”

“I can tell on you, you know. How’d your GPA like that?”

“Didn’t know you were a dirty snitch, Brandon.”

“Who you texting?” he raised his arms up to intimidate him. “That psycho bitch you hang out with all the time?”

Bruce told him to keep his rage in check even more so in class than he barely does in patrols, but at that moment, in a dizzying blur, Jason skillfully pushed Brandon against the wall and pulled his fist behind him without much care for the onlooking crowd.

“Want a new nose again, jackass?”

“Fuck you-“

“ALRIGHT, ENOUGH. STEP AWAY FROM HIS NOSE.”

Jerry. Poor Jerry. The tired teacher grabbed onto Jason’s shoulder and pulled him away from the linebacker. Jason backed down, lowering his arm, then kept his glare on him while he puffed up his jacket.

“Both of you. Get out of here. Todd, you don’t want me to send you to the VP’s office again before I call your father. Everyone walk away. Yes, everyone. Walk on. Get on with your business.”

He kept his head craned down while Jerry screamed at anyone sparing him a look. Jason shoved his bag over his back and stormed out of the room. Slamming the door, he walked to the library and found an empty table waiting for him with a cart full of books at the side. Ms. Peterson had her hand on her hip, snarling at him when he took the seat. “Get to these by today, boy.”

He ignored her and sat down, leaning forward to take yet another nap with his arms folded under his head.

All it takes is one triggering moment. One thug to taunt him. One word from the Joker. One lecture from Bruce. One threat to his humanity. And now his head’s all boiled up and all he wanted to do was block out the rest of the world and take a nap. And even then, he knew he wouldn’t wake up feeling any better.

“Jason,” Bruce told him a five weeks ago, the first day of his library sentence. “Anything going on in school you should tell me about?”

“Nothing. What makes you think that?”

“You caused trouble,” he said. “You picked a fight.”

“I’m fine. I’m not letting it affect my grades.”

“This isn’t about your grades. You can't let your business from the field affect you and hurt innocent people.”

“I’m not-“

“The next time the principal calls me with you starting another fight-“

“You’ll what? Take away my phone privileges?”

“I’m taking away your suit.”

He stormed out of that room before he could say anything more. Bruce never brought it up again, but Jason knew he was going to keep his word no matter what.

Jason didn’t even notice when you took the seat across of him with that prolonged, annoyed grunt that most often came with an eye roll. You placed your bag to your side and poked at his arm.

“Ey. You gotta help me with this.”

He didn’t look up when you pulled out your notes and your textbook. “WAKE UP.”

You repeatedly patted his shoulder until he let out a large enough grunt to make him crane his head up, eye squinting at you and his black hair covering his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“What do you want now?”

“You weren’t this grumpy this morning.” You smirked. “I have to make a lit paper.”

“Why can't you do it yourself?”

“’Cuz you're the expert here. And I need that A.”

He buried his face back into his arms. “I’m not in the mood, Y/N.”

“Come on,” you said. Your voice prolonged the last syllable and you started to sound more annoying. “Don’t be a baby.”

“Just do it and ask me questions or some shit.”

“But I need your help-“

“And by the end of this, we’re at each other’s throats. I really don’t have the time for that now.”

You backed up, scoffing. “’Cuz you have something so much better to do?”

“Yeah,” he snarled. “Like taking a nap.”

He didn’t even glance at you taken aback and ignored you cursing under your breath. “Fine. Eat a dick, asshole.”

You took your stuff and drowned them into your bag, shuffling out of the table. A girl came up to you with a voice lower than a whistle. “Uhm, excuse me-“

“NO!” you screeched, then headed for the next table before she could ask anything more. The poor girl was trembling on her knees by the time you found an empty seat and pour out everything in your bag. His head was a mess, and the silence was the first step to actually making him clear his grime-covered mind. Jason kept shutting his eyes closed and focused on the blunt colors that appeared before his eyes in the shape of spirals.

For half an hour, he kept at his nap, falling asleep for a good ten minutes before he awoke to the sound of your screaming at a guy too stupid to ask you if the seat next to you was free while you were fumbling with your assignment. Jason groaned into his arm, feeling his head swell and ache and already knowing Bruce was waiting for him at home with yet another long, agonizing lecture on picking fights he never wanted in the first place. His eyes started to hurt from the force he used to shut them close, and everything in his mind was as hot as fire.

Leaning back against the chair, he knew this was going to bite him in the ass, sooner or later.

And one of the very very very few reasons he got to smile or even laugh all day was now violently taking notes while reading a book with the most fed up, furious expression on her face. He pulled out his bag, taking a water bottle and finishing its contents down his throat before he shot up and pushed his chair back.

Jason stood in front of your desk, his hand on the back of the chair across of you and waited for you to take notice of him. Your glare was terrifying. And it actually made him want to step back for once. But he stood his ground and sighed. “Can I help?”

“Get out of here.”

“I can help you.”

“I don’t need an asswipe telling me off.”

He took the chair despite you and you stared at your notebook, still with your eyebrows arched way up.

“Sorry.”

You ignored him and kept with your notes. He peered over, his elbows on the table, and you practically hissed at him when he got too close. Raising his hands up to surrender, he snarled at him before you continued your work.

“How many of reports have you done so far?”

You didn’t look like you were going to respond, and you kept writing like he wasn’t there in front of you at all. Jason couldn’t help but smile seeing you so angry and focused, knowing you were trying your best to block him out and failing miserably when he could see your eyebrow twitch and your eyes darting at him every few seconds.

Squirming his hand to you, his finger tugged on your gray sweater and scratched you like you had an itch. You pursed your lips and pulled your fist out so you looked like you were about to punch him, but he playfully held your hand and backed off. That was when he was fully smiling by now. He could block out all other thoughts easily when it was so fun to bug you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you finally looked up to his eyes. “Come on. Let me help.”

You licked the outside of your teeth and let out a long sigh that came with your usual grunt. Knowing you’d hate and love it at the same time, he ruffled your hair and you charged at him, almost stabbing him with your pen.

You finally managed to smile, then you gave in and handed him your notebook.

“The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe,” you said. “What do you think?”

He leaned over the table, glancing at you, then taking the time to read your notes on what you understood from the passage. “This is good.”

“I’ve read the whole book like ten times by now.”

That made his chest feel just a bit warmer. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you took out the collection book he gave you. “Ms. Peterson has no idea. I’m supposed to have four weeks-worth of penalties because of this.”

Knowing he gave you something, and you happened to like it so much that you wanted it to be your report for literature class, and with you writing a decent paper about it, with you reading it over and over, it instantly became one of the things he won't easily forget.

He never grinned so much in a while, probably since a week ago in the gym. Jason watched you take back your notebook, continuing to write as he gazed too long at your parted lips. Feeling his flesh burn, he looked away.

“I won't bite you if you change anything, you know.” you said, your eyes keeping on your notes. “Go nuts.”

You tore off the page and handed it over to Jason, then you gave him a pen. Smiling at you, he took it, then started to circling words he thought you should change and other ideas he had of his own. A moment of silence, you didn’t scream anything at him when you he gave you the corrections. You graciously nodded, then started rewriting them onto a separate page. Your hair was falling to your cheeks, and it touched your skin so delicately and soft. Pretty.

So pretty.

He was gawking. He was so gawking. You’ll never let him hear the end of it. He shook his head and pretended he wasn’t just resting his chin on his hand like a teenage girl.

The thought of you reading Poe’s works still hadn’t left his mind. It wasn’t even a complete collection. There were so many more stories out there, most just on the internet. Maybe tonight, he could send some to you and you might enjoy them, too.

Or, maybe not. Patrol. Bruce has been telling him not to text so much while he was out supposedly beating criminals. But he couldn’t help it.

There was just something about making you happy, or even just smile or let out a bit of a laugh that made him feel a whip of a breezy rush. You were often sad when you were alone, and whatever you felt at school, it was so much worse at home. Everyday, you told him bits more of how it was like with your parents.

He saw so much of himself in you. You were eerily similar. Too similar. The hidden rage, the angst kept within. Maybe that was why he liked making you laugh so much.

“So what story did you like most?”

You grinned. “I’m not entirely sure. The Black Cat’s definitely up there. I don’t know. I really like all of them.”

“I’ve read that. The Black Cat,” he said, leaning back. “What makes you like it so much?”

“I like the idea of a cat being the whole reason his life goes downhill, kills his wife, and eventually gets caught. Like his whole life was being dictated by his pet.”

“That’s dark.”

“I know,” you smirked. “That’s why I like it so much.”

He had his arms crossed over on the table to cover his chest. “You becoming a serial killer seems more possible now.”

“Fuck you,” you said, sticking your tongue out.  

It was almost 4:30. He didn’t even notice the clock. You and Jason had the most civil conversation, not an insult or a mean comment on anything other than a playful back and forth. You closed your notes, then your book, then you stretched out your arms.

“Ms. Peterson’s gonna be pissed. We haven’t done any work today at all.”

“Just put the cart behind that shelf over there. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

He laughed, and you went with him as he stood up and did exactly so. “I can take you home today. But we have to leave now. Bruce wants me to go with him on this… thing.”

“Nah.” You pulled on your sweater as you headed out the door. “I’ll stay behind. Dad’s usually awake at this time. He won't be asleep until like, an hour from now.”

Jason respectfully understood, and you watched him as he walked out through the halls, turning at the corner.

He pulled out his phone. There was a text from Bruce.

‘You coming tonight?’

He didn’t bother to respond when he was already on his way home. Yesterday, Penguin and Two Face both had their own bank robberies at opposite ends of town. He repeatedly told Bruce he could handle Cobblepot on his own, but he refused and demanded he go with him while they take them out one by one.

Jason was reluctant of course, and it wasn’t like he had a choice. But he did a great job at finishing off Two Face’s crew that it didn’t take long for them to go all the way to the other bank and catch Penguin before they even got to half the bank’s vaults. Bruce told him he had the option to go with him to patrol tonight or not, but if he were, he had to come home early and not laze around in school like he often did.

Tonight, he chose to go to patrol. He thought he needed an outlet and imagine Brandon’s face on the heads of drug dealers. The thought alone made him grin.

Jason walked out the exit and reached for his keys.

Except he totally forgot he wasn’t even wearing his bag until he’d walked to his motorcycle. Groaning as he walked back into the school’s entrance, he sprinted for the library, catching the door open just as Ms. Peterson was about to walk out with a deathly glare on her face at him. Jason ran for his bag, took it, then gave Ms. P a fun little hug before walking back out.

He took out his phone, expecting a text from you, but there was nothing. So he asked you where you were before heading back out.

Out into the now empty halls, Jason walked pass the lockers, the dark classrooms, the one bright light at the center, he kept his hands in his pockets and sighed.

Piano keys.

Piano keys?

Playing. Simple chords played out but had a familiar tune he couldn’t get out from the back of his mind.

And singing.

A voice he’s only heard so often, yet he could pick out from a million others.

The music room was one he didn’t go in too often, but the sound came from there. The door wasn’t closed, and slowly, he peered it open.

A beam so little from the window, yet he could see how your back was so straight up, how your lean fingers rested gracefully onto the keys, playing the chords in perfectly strewn out notes that he could just tell you’ve been at this for quite some time. From an angle slightly to the left, you couldn’t see him, but he could see a bit of your face, the side of it, how your eyelids looked closed looking down at your own fingers.

Then you sang.

 I've seen the world, done it all

Had my cake now

Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now

Hot summer nights, mid July

When you and I were forever wild

The crazy days, city lights

The way you'd play with me like a child

Will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

When I've got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will

I know that you will

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

 You…

You…

Yeah.

You were beautiful.

So beautiful…

 Will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?

 You just… kept going.

And there was nothing, not ever, in the entire length of his existence, of his years at the streets, of his few years as Robin, of his time at either a ratty apartment or a manor, of all the people he’s met, of any song that he’s heard.

Nothing. Nothing compared to your voice. Nothing compared to you.

 Hot summer days, rock and roll

The way you play for me at your show

And all the ways, I got to know

Your pretty face and electric soul

 Breathy, low, and everything he’s kept to remember. His chest never felt so light, yet his heart was beating out of his ribcage. His bag was almost dropped down his shoulder, his mouth was parted, his face deeply flushed. Even when you played the wrong note, cursed, then went on just as perfectly as you ever could, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you.

His eyes were so relaxed on you, and nothing, not even his trembling shoulders could make him look away.

You reached the higher notes with a perfect falsetto, then your voice echoed out even with the room as small as a stuffy classroom. His eyebrows were up to his forehead and he didn’t know if he was still breathing, when he was standing so still, frozen like a block of ice.

You had so much deepness and soul, and you were often whispering the words, but then your voice would go up in a perfect blend.

Perfect. That was all he could think of. Perfect.

His bag was on the floor now, the only thing keeping it up was a single finger.

Lana Del Ray. You sung it better than her. In his most humble, honest, totally not biased opinion. Shit, he even felt like he wanted to cry. His chest was heaving and his face never burned up so much, at almost the end of the song, he finally had it in him to move from his place and throw himself back against a wall.

Breathe. Fucking breathe.

 Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?

 That last note, you breathed it out so nicely, it went straight into his soul, biting his lip, then closing his eyes.

He smiled like the biggest fucking idiot for the nth time that very day.

Jason looked like a fourteen year old girl cooing over a boyband. He laid his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling, hearing you sing vocal runs and pressing randomly at the piano. And he couldn’t stop showing his teeth, his face was hurting like a bitch, but fuck.

FUCK.

He’s never felt anything like this. Like his head was lighter than the air around him, lighter than the softness of your falsetto. He was still catching his breath and grinning above him, then at the ground, then back at the wall. It wasn’t on what he stared at. Your voice ringing in his ears, like angels were flying around playing their little harps over his head, like the sun was shining so brightly against him that he couldn’t see even a smidge of darkness anywhere in the world. How your face scrunched up, how your eyebrows raised, how you’d close your eyes and feel the song as it flew out your lips.

He rubbed on his chin and mouth to ease his aching muscles. Jason kept with his breathing, the fluttering in his chest. Everything. Everything.

Jason needed to wash his face with ice cold water at this point, gathering enough courage, he looked back into the room.

You were staring back at him.

-----

You didn’t look mad.

Though you definitely, most probably should.

You didn’t even notice he was there until the end of the song when he hit the wall with his back. Idiot must’ve thought you wouldn’t hear him.

But you weren’t mad. Not at all. Not from the way he was looking at you. Not when he was staring at you in a way no one ever had in your whole life. Not when you could see how his lips were parted and how his chest was visibly rising and how cute his face was all embarrassed and shit.

You could only smile.

Standing from the piano and grabbing your bag, you walked over to him. Jason gulped down and backed up against the wall with you standing right in front of him.

And after five weeks of knowing him,

Jason Todd finally looked like he was scared shitless of you.

But you didn’t want him to be scared of you. Not anymore. It just doesn’t seem like something you wanted anymore.

“You heard all that, huh?”

Jason was an absolute mess. He cleared his throat three times and hesitantly nodded, keeping his head to the ground.

“I-I’m uh,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be.”

He didn’t look like he had another answer. Jason scratched the back of his head. “Uhm-“

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You walked first, but looked back to see if he followed. Jason rushed to your side, making sure his blush wasn’t so evident even though it clearly was. You were better at hiding your own embarrassment, so you nudged his shoulder.

Jason laughed out loud and looked at you the same way he looked at the stars. You looked back at him the same way.

“You gonna take me home?”

He managed to form a sentence. “I thought you wanted to stay longer.”

You shrugged. “I guess I can take it.”

When you stepped out the gate, Jason walked you over to his bike and handed you his second helmet. Playfully, you hit the side of his and chuckled when you sat behind him, clutching onto his waist. You felt him tense, but he eventually relaxed and you leaned in to him.

You leaned your head on his back this time. You never did that before. Your clutch was tighter, your eyes closed. If it were anyone, it could pass for simply wanting to be more secure. But that day you just wanted to hold someone you actually didn’t mind being with before you’d get home and all this would end in an abrupt stop.

After a long while, you still couldn’t smell smoke emissions from cars or even hear the horns or bells or shouts from all the city folk near your apartment. Looking up then around you with the sun still shining brightly even at this time of day, you were in the countryside. Away from the city.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?”

“YOU’LL SEE.”

You could smell cow dung, and the earthy scent of grass you should be more used to than you actually are. The road ahead of you was wide and long, and the air was so much lighter than it was at home. You closed your eyes, this time feeling the wind against your skin.

Jason was smiling through his helmet. Further down the road, you held onto him. “I THOUGHT YOU HAD SOMEWHERE TO GO TONIGHT.”

“I TEXTED BRUCE. I’M NOT GOING WITH HIM. JUST HOLD ON.”

You smiled and looked on when he made a turn into a forest with tall trees getting taller as you rode further down. There were no people around you. Not even houses. You leaned into his shoulder and rested your chin on top.

Jason started to slow down when you reached deeper into the trees, finally stopping his bike by the curb. The air was cold, and you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body after you’ve removed your helmet. “Where are we?”

“Come on.”

Jason walked towards the trees, where there was a little cement pathway now covered in weeds and grass growing out of its cracks. You had trouble making your way through, especially when your boots had a bit of a heel in them, then you walked to Jason’s side as it became clearer what you were there for.

An old, abandoned house. Something out of the dozens of horror movies you’ve saved in your laptop.

“Dude…”

“You like?”

It was small, but its picket fence and flaking white wooden walls just screamed fifties to you, with a triangular roof, two windows on the second level, a half-circle glass wall on the right side of the first floor, and a door so rickety and old, colored in an earthly brown that had mixed in with the debris and rot. Vines were all over its porch, and there was even a rocking chair sitting right outside by the entryway, also covered in vines. Outside of the house was an old pickup truck that had rusted beyond use, sinking into the ground like it was pulled by the earth.

“How’d you know I always wanted to go urban exploring?”

“I just figured.” Jason smiled. “Come on. We can go inside.”

“Are you sure?” you eagerly started for the door. “It won't break?”

“I’ve been here once. The stairs are broken so we can't go to the second floor. Just be careful.”

Pulling the unlocked door open, and Jason right behind you, you flashed him a smile before stepping inside.

It was seriously from the horror movies you’ve watched over and over. The first thing that greeted you was a nice little foyer, with a table in the middle and a vase that used to house flowers for sure. Then behind it was the broken staircase Jason mentioned. It was made entirely out of wood, and it had fallen in so bad that it was basically a wall by now. So much of the wood was on the ground, and there were lots of papers, books, clothes, and several others cluttering all around the floor. You had to walk all over them.

There were two entry ways at the sides of the foyer. One leading to the living room, and one to the dining room and kitchen. Everything further down had been blocked out by wooden planks and even more clutter. The living room was beautiful with the glass walls that formed a half circle and a petite grand piano standing in the middle. Its cover was up, and its keys had completely gone. There was still a bit of light coming in to the windows, which shone on the room so nicely, it was perfect.

The couches were completely ruined, and you wouldn’t dare sit on it. At the center of the room, though, which caught your eye the most, was a beautiful, broken chandelier that had fallen to the ground, which was why there was so much broken glass around the floor.

At the other side, the dining room was a bit more modest. A table seating six was still intact, but the chairs were either toppled over to the ground or broken in half. Even more clutter was on the table. Nearby was the kitchen, with an island in the middle, an old-fashioned fridge you probably wouldn’t want to go near to, and other kitchen supplies scattered around.

You both took out your phones and took pictures of the place. It was too good to witness.

“Jason…”

“I know,” he raised his arms up, putting his phone back into his pocket. “Amazing.”

You covered your mouth, then walked on over to the piano. You ran your hands over it, ignoring the mountains of dust that formed over your fingers. “I dare you to play it.”

“There’s barely any keys left.”

You watched him laugh, then you both walked around the chandelier. “Getting a bit of the Phantom of the Opera vibes in here.”

“Don’t touch it.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You eyed it carefully, then you looked up at the empty ceiling. It looked almost like it was going to fall in. Hopefully it wouldn’t.

“The family that used to live here, they left around fifty years ago. A mom, dad, and two twin girls. They both had tuberculosis and died in this very house. The parents just left it after they died. Never took anything along with them.”

“That’s terrifying. You think they’ve got a listing on this place?”

Jason chuckled. “The twins used to be theater stars. That’s why they’ve got a piano. To practice. And they built the whole place around it so the sounds would echo nicely.”

You finally got it. Shaking your head with a knowing smile, you turned to Jason. He had his hands stuck to his hoodie pockets, his head craned down, his hair falling to his eyes, and his smile all over the bottom half of his face.

“Is that why you took me here?”

“You have…” he gulped, never looking away from your eyes. “The most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard in my life…”

You had to look away. For your own sake. You were turning red so much, it was embarrassing. “Stop.”

“I’m serious. You never told me you sang.”

“It’s not exactly something I hid.  I’ve sung in school a couple of times. Like in middle school graduation.”

“So I’m basically the only one in school who hasn’t heard you sing?” He placed his hand on his chest. Then pretended to scoff.

“Why don’t you sing. Right here.”

“Todd. No.”

“Come on. We have the place for it.”

You looked up at the ceiling, which was high for a house so small. It probably went all the way up to the roof. “No way.”

Jason kept nudging you, but you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t help your smile though. You and Jason walked over to the kitchen and just looked at all the things the family left behind. Even the toaster was untouched, and you’ve never seen an oven so old fashioned before, it still had that pastel green color on the parts that hadn’t been taken over by rust.

It was starting to get dark. But you never wanted to leave. “Thank you.”

You said it without looking directly at him, but he got it. Going back outside before everything would completely dim out, Jason walked over to the pickup truck and jumped on its back.

You didn’t have the agility to just jump on top of it without possibly pulling a muscle, so you just watched Jason sit on the edge of it and swung his legs in the air.  Standing beside him and leaning your back against the truck, you both watched the house as the sun started to set behind it. You could see the beams scatter just at the center of the roof where it angled down. The sky had grown from a brightly lit yellow to a dark orange.

-----

You and Jason were a recipe for trouble.

Was it because you were too similar? Harbored the same anger? The same hatred for a number of people you didn’t even know? Was it because you both stirred trouble when it wasn’t asked for?

It was a recipe for trouble because, according to the young adult romance novels and movies, Jason was supposed to be with a nice, sweet, innocent girl who’d bring out the good in him and was kind to everyone, have just enough of that spice in her that would draw attention but still be a sweetheart, and she’d be made of happiness and rainbows and would be what brightens up Jason’s darkness.

You were not that girl. You were the opposite. You had that same darkness as he did. You had so much anger, and instilled so much fear onto anyone you didn’t like. Maybe you were even darker. And if it were up to those same novels and movies, you were supposed to end up with basically the same type of person, someone who was bright and yellow and happy. Not Jay.

But with you both being so similar, so full of angst and dread and hate, in a world were opposites were supposed to belong together,

why does he bring so much light and hope?

How does someone just as unhappy as you are come along and make you laugh like the world was about to end?

How does someone just as full of pent up rage as you are come along, and make it all go away for a sweet, short moment?

How was it all possible? How could two people, two very similar people, fit into a puzzle that called for them to fill it what you didn’t have?

How could someone supposed to fuel the fire already inside you end up being the sun?

Jason never thought of that either. In fact, he thought he might end up with someone in his line of work. Another vigilante. Not a mean girl from school who terrorizes students with a pair of fucking scissors.

But, somehow, it all just made everything he was turn into what he was supposed to be. You could say the same.

With you in your little room and Jason in his significantly larger one in the manor, you both sank to the ground, backs against the wall, and you pulled out your phones.

You had left a message first.

Y/N: ‘Urban exploring should be more of a thing.’

Jason smiled.

Jason: ‘Nah. People would crowd those places and vandalize them.’

Y/N: ‘True. I’d want them all to myself anyway.’

Jason: ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

You felt your heart jump. God, this had to stop.

Y/N: ‘I did. Thank you.’

Jason: ‘Should I get used to you being nice to me now?’

Y/N: ‘Probably not.’

He laughed and shuffled his knees.

Y/N: ‘Send me the pictures you took.’

Scrolling through his albums, he selected everything he took that day and sent it all to you. Leaning on his back, looking up at the ceiling as he waiting, Jason imagined the look on your face when you first saw the house. Your eyes never shone so brightly.

You looked through the pictures and found several, about eight of them, centered on nothing else but you smiling at the ceiling, at the piano, at the chandelier, at the tables.

Y/N: ‘Dude. Why this angle of me?’

Confused, Jason looked through the pictures.

And he cursed out loud, over and over, burying his head in his hands when he saw he’d accidentally sent eight pictures he’d secretly taken of you. Fuck it all. This is how he dies. This is the death of Jason Todd.

You were smiling out of your face, and instead of saying anything mean or the thousands of jokes that instantly came up to the front of your mind, you did the same and sent him pictures you took.

And Jason’s heart rose up from where it sank to the floor when he saw you’d taken just as many pictures of him, doing the same things as you did and some with him holding his phone up. One was just his face.

He was a fucking grinning mess by then.

Jason: ‘Don’t I look good.’

Yeah, you cooed. You certainly do. But you didn’t say that to him. You just went along with him and he changed the subject.

Jason: ‘Huge favor.’

Y/N: ‘Shoot.’

Jason: ‘Send me a voice message of you singing.’

Y/N: ‘Absolutely not.’

Jason: ‘Please.’

Y/N: ‘No.’

Jason: ‘I’ll do your library work for three days.’

Y/N: ‘not even if you beg, Todd.’

Jason: ‘I keep my promises, just so you know.’

Y/N: ‘Still no.’

Jason: ‘Sing in the library tomorrow then.’

Y/N: ‘Ms. P will throw me out the fucking window.’

Jason: ‘Yeah, she probably will.’

Y/N: ‘Do my shelving work for three weeks. Then I’ll send you a five second audio message of me humming.’

Jason: ‘Make it a minute of a song of MY choice. Then I’ll do it for a week.’

Y/N: ‘not a chance.’

Jason: ‘what do I have to do then.’

Nothing. You gripped your phone to your chest. I’d sing for you if it makes you smile any day.

Y/N: ’Two weeks. I get to ride on the cart while you shelf my books.’

Jason: ‘Deal.’

You threw your head back, then you made a two second audio message of you screaming “NICE TRY, TODD.”

Jason: ‘Mother fucker.’

Y/N: ‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.’

4 am. You slept at 4 am that night. And only because your eyes couldn’t take it and Jason was drooling on his bed after doing exercises to stay up and talk to you.

He had it bad.

Really bad.

And, not surprisingly, so did you.

----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

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