rmbunnie · 18 days ago
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I see so much of "is post-crisis Robin Jason an innocent little sweetie-pie or a mean aggro delinquent" and after reading through all of his batman and detective comic issues post-crisis I think i can safely say he's... an introverted and distrustful, but altogether friendly teen boy who has convinced himself to the deepest level that he is an Adult Man, and also does not hold a particularly good view of adults.
The sweet little babypie characterization falls a little short (assuming we aren't being too silly with it, there's plenty of that in the comedy issues of tec) because it disregards the part where he's a jaded teenager who is constantly going off and trying to take care of his own problems like "his own man" and reacts negatively to any breach of trust or move to take care of him. But negative doesn't mean "violent and rageful." The delinquent angle is incorrect because not only is his disposition peppy, silly, and agreeable most of the time, but assuming the problem upsetting him isn't a predator or the guy who killed his dad (and three out of four canon instances it is a predator to be clear) he reacts to emotional turmoil with Bruce by bedrotting, sulking, communicating through notes, and overall being avoidant. The only times he lashes out are when Bruce is calling him out or after Bruce told him to his face that he chose to look for the Joker over looking for him, and that case of "lashing out" is just getting a little snarky.
More than anything his main personality trait (besides being silly, a robin staple) is kinda coming into this parentified as fuck. Not that it's Catherine's fault, but it really shaped his character, like one of the first things he says to Bruce (after he promised not to turn Jason in to the foster system) is that he kept her fed and warm as long as he could like he wasn't her ten year old child when he started. It's why he views himself on the same level as adults and why he gets all closed off at any insinuation that he needs to be taken care of, both of which heavily inform his dynamic with Bruce. He's constantly checking in on Bruce's wellbeing, like half of Batman: the Cult is just him taking care of Bruce while he recuperates from being brainwashed. (Side note, he's also constantly asking Bruce stuff like "what's your relationship like with this woman or this rogue or the concept of religion, how did that play out, how do you feel about it?" he is Very chatty like that.) The first thing he does when Sheila tells him her (revised to exclude medical malpractice) life story is hold HER and try to affirm her struggle. After a while he starts to act more childish with Bruce (although he doesn't really stop trying to brush off attempts to care for him) but as soon as Bruce admits he prioritized crimefighting over Jason and didn't show up to look after Jason like Jason assumed he came there for, Jason snaps back to acting very independent and rejecting any attempts to be looked after on any terms other than some kind of "equals" thing, which he isn't, as he's a 15 year old boy. Like. He's very sweet to his former neighbor, but also he refers to being a homeless child and the sole provider in his condemned building living situation as "getting by" to her.
He's definitely not. some bloodthirsty delinquent, at least to anyone who's not an uber-misogynistic predator, and he like demonstrably is a pretty sweet kid. It's just that when people say he's a sweet kid they kinda just jump to "untraumatized eight-year-old who grew up in a loving family and just got a new puppy from Santa" instead of "good hearted and curious teenager who has trust issues and is deeply uncomfortable with being taken care of, so kinda just compromises by pretending his dad is a Friend Doing him a Solid and acts like his kid only when he has plausible deniability so he can't get the rug pulled out from under him." Of course. He does kinda get the rug pulled out from under him despite all that. So there's that.
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dcxdpdabbles · 1 year ago
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Alfred's Boy Part 3
Bruce rarely had a full night's rest. In fact, he thinks that it's been a full two years since he last had more than eight hours of consistent slumber. Unlike Tim, who just forgo the recommended sleeping amount, Bruce found time to take naps throughout the day because, as much as he hates to admit it, he's not as young as he used to be.
This is why Bruce is rather displeased to be awoken when he finds himself with a chance to have a full night's rest. It felt like he barely closed his eyes at the tender time of nine o clock pm- with no cases waiting for him, his children agreeing to take his patrols, and the wonderful tea that Danny had poured him to help with backpain-he thought nothing would ruin it.
He forgot he had children for a moment.
At three in the morning, he woke to Tim, half in his Red Robin uniform, crouching like a cat about to leap, his unmasked face staring a few inches away from Bruce's nose. It took everything in Bruce to not react on instinct and take a swing at his son.
He only just bites back the scream by sheer willpower. His son doesn't seem to notice his heart trying to leap out of his chest as the boy leans back, sitting on the pillow Bruce likes to use to build a protective wall against the other side of the floor.
Tim's voice was raspy with sleep and maybe even hints of madness. "Oh good, you're awake. I have an emergency."
"Wha?" Bruce asks, half unsure if he is hallucinating. "What's wrong."
"Danny found his photo album."
"Danny has a photo album?"
"Yes. I made it. I took all the pictures."
"Okay? Why is that bad, chum? Was it supposed to be a surprise present for him?"
Tim tilts his head, his somewhat unfocused eyes staring at Bruce, and for one moment, he wonders if Tim got a concussion out in the field. He disregards the idea a moment later. Alfred would have notified him, and if not, Danny wouldn't allow Tim to wander alone.
Bruce could still remember Duke's wide eye awe as Danny followed him around when he got hit a little too hard a few weeks ago. The butler in training had even slept in his room- on the floor on an air mattress- and Duke had looked mortified and smug for as long as it took to get over his injury.
Alfred had to make it very clear no one was allowed to deliberately get a concussion to his other love-struck children.
Tim's nose wrinkles as a slight blush appears on his high cheeks. "No. He didn't know I was taking pictures of him. That's why it's bad he found the album. "
Bruce closes his eyes. He loves his son, he really does, but he can't handle this right now. He takes a few blissful seconds to pretend he never became a single dad of nine before he pushes his eyelids apart to give one of his middle children a firm scolding. "Tim, chum, the light of my life, that's a crime."
"It's not! I didn't follow him around outside the manor." Tim argues.
Bruce reaches a hand up to rub the space between his eyes. "Tim, you can't just take pictures of people without asking them."
"Why not? I've done it before. To you, Dick, Jason, Steph, Alfred, Damian, Harper, Cullen, Duke, and Cass, but she usually catches me and poses so it doesn't get her in her authentic state of being like I usually want to get but-" Tim says, counting the people on his figures before he seems to realize that he was sidetracked and shakes his head. He gives Bruce a pitiful pout. "He doesn't even mind. He said they were lovely and artistic!"
Of course, Danny wouldn't even blink at a creepy photo album of himself hidden in one of his employer's rooms. That boy didn't care that he found the Batcave while dusting, so taking everything in stride was a default.
"Tim, it's still not okay. You have to ask him from now on if you can take pictures." He holds up a hand when Tim opens his mouth to no doubt argue. "You can ask him if you can take pictures of him throughout the day to capture his authentic side without it being a crime. Now explain what the emergency really is."
Tim's teeth snapped close with a snap. "That was the emergency. He found it, and now I have to leave the country. Go underground for a few months. Maybe fake my death."
"You literally don't have to do any of that. Danny said it was okay right? He isn't one to sugarcoat things. He wouldn't claim it was fine if he didn't feel that way."
"No, Bruce, you don't understand. He already thinks I can't swim. Now he finds a book of him covered in hearts? Tim Drake needs to die." Tim says, dragging his hands down his face, and Bruce flips the covers back.
Gesturing to them, he deadpans. "Tim Drake needs to sleep."
"But my fake death needs to be planned-"
"Cullen and Harper get back tomorrow. Do you want to stress Danny more by adding your fake death to this?" Bruce watches the moment his argument wins because it's as if all fight leaves Tim's body, and his son slumps to the side. His head falls on a pillow, and he's already fast asleep.
He had been running on fumes again, it seemed.
Sighing, Bruce man hands his son into a more comfortable position, unclips his cape, and tucks the blankets around his son's shoulders. He settles back into his side of his bed- Ever since Dick came to live with him, Bruce had, over the years, claimed the right side of the bed so the left would always be open for any of his children suffering from nightmares.
He closes his eyes; Tim's peaceful face snuggling into Bruce's softest pillow reminded him why he became a single father of nine. His heart swells with love as he gives back into sleep's warm arms.
A few seconds later, his door is kicked open by Harper. She puts all her lungs into her greeting. "What's up, Old man! Who's the new kid!?"
Bruce glances at his clock and realizes it's now eight in the morning. Harper and Cullen had arrived hours earlier than planned- probably because Harper had refused to sleep and completed the drive home. He looks at Tim and finds his son curled into a ball, still dead to the world.
"That's Danny," He says in a hushed voice, gesturing to her adoptive brother. When Harper sees Tim, she visibly quiets, ensuring her heavy metal boots don't stomp on the ground as she walks over to him. "He's Alfred's foster son. He was removed from his last home because his parents were dangerous to his safety. Alfred will house him as a favor for his old contact. The contact code name is Clockwork. Danny talks about him a lot so you may hear that name for a while."
"Whoa. " She says, sobering up. Bruce can see memories of her birth father playing behind her eyes as she frowns. "That's shitty. Poor guy, no wonder he seemed sad to the bone."
"You met him?"
"Yeah, he jumped Cullen and me in the main hallway."
Bruce's mind buffers for a second. "What?"
"I know! The dude has skill, but it makes sense if he is Alfred's. He thought we were breaking in and took us out before I realized we were in danger. Once he got a good look at our faces, though, he practically threw up apologizing." She pauses. "Is he straight?"
No. Bruce thinks feeling cold, not another one.
"I believe he's bi. Why?"
Harper shrugs, smiling. "I think Cullen may have a crush on him. I was iffy about it since I thought he was another of your kids. You technically aren't our dad since I'm still Cullen's guardian, but you let us live here for free, so you like a dad? Glad it's not an issue."
Bruce wants to cry. What was it with Danny and seducing his children (in the eyes of the law or not, Cullen is Bruce's boy)? "There may be an issue. See, Danny has a few admires right now and he's- "
"That sounds like your issue, not a Cullen issue," Harper says, narrowing her eyes. Bruce winces when he notices her arms crossing over her chest as when firmly plants her feet a few inches apart. She only stands like that when she's protective of Cullen, which means she finds his comment offensive.
"I'm not saying Cullen doesn't have a chance." Bruce corrects realizing where the issue was. Harper's arms loosen slightly. "I just meant that right now, Danny isn't in the right mental state to be dating."
Harper's arms drop. "Yeah, I wasn't interested in dating after I became emancipated, either. Had a lot going on. I'll talk to Cullen about it. Make sure he gives Danny space."
Finally, one of his kids is on his side! "Thank you, Harper."
She waves a hand dismissively. "Don't mention it. Hey, how did Clockwork and Alfred meet anyway?"
Bruce shrugs. "I never asked."
"Why?"
"It's Alfred. " He says like that is an explanation enough, and it is. Harper accepts it as such, nodding along. She tilts her head back and mentions wanting to shower, then take a long nap. She leaves the room as silent as a shadow, but not before telling him Danny and Cullen are making pancakes for everyone.
Bruce doesn't want to get up, but he must be the period romance villain and rip his son away from the staff. He slips out of bed with great effort and prepares for the day. A quick bathroom break, and a change into a casual suit, lead to Bruce walking down to the kitchen.
There he spots Danny smiling gently at Cullen, who is in an excited rant about his latest reality tv show. Around them is a spread of breakfast foods- Danny always cooks the food of various cultural backgrounds. He apparently learned from Clockwork and found it important everyone had at least one piece of home per meal.
It's heartwarming domestic. Bruce needs to ruin it.
"How did Alfred and Clockwork meet?" Cullen asks, stopping Bruce from dramatically bursting into the room. It's mostly because he has been wondering the same thing for weeks, and Danny seems to know.
"Alfred got haunted when he picked up Clockwork's pocket watch in an antique store," Danny responds.
That answer didn't explain anything. In fact, it just created more questions. Bruce wants to wait a little more, see if Danny adds more information, but he watches as the bulter in training places strawberries on heart-shaped pancakes and then drizzles chocolate. He puts the plate in front of Cullen, and the other teenager swoons.
Yeah, Bruce needs to stop that.
"Good morning, boys." He calls, watching the two turn to him. They each give him a greeting, but Danny is noticeably more polite. Danny moves away from Cullen to serve Bruce. He adds blood pudding alongside his Batarang-shaped pancakes as Cullen sulks about losing Danny's attention. Bruce takes a bit of those first, closing his eyes in bliss.
Blood pudding, just like Alfred used to make.
Speaking of Alfred, his loyal butler arrives then. Seems like Bruce wasn't the only one catching up on a night of undisruptive sleep. His oldest friend gives both boys a once over, Danny pouring tea and milk and Cullen staring at him lovingly- and raises a brow, leaning down to whisper in Bruce's ear.
"I say, it seems Danny has collected another one."
"Please don't."
"Denial will not make it less true. It's how I wound up haunted."
"Alfred, what does that mean?"
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brucewaynehater101 · 29 days ago
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WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPT #3
Set up for failure, fingerprints, "I warned you"
Brief synopsis: Tim warns Damian. Damian doesn't heed the advice.
“You're telling me that Bruce assigned you this case?” There's a note of apprehension in Tim's voice as his arctic eyes scrutinize his younger brother. Damian scoffs.
“What? Jealous that Father trusts me more than you, Drake?”
“That's not-” Tim's teeth grind together as he tries to halt his automatic response. “Look. Can you just tell me if anyone else knows about this?”
Damian rolls his eyes. “Perhaps you would need assistance with such a meager inquiry, but Father trusts my ability to handle it with ease.”
“So the answer is no.”
Instead of dignifying that with a response, the kid twists on his heel and returns with his perusal of the batcomputer. He needs to analyze the fingerprint and he does not have time to listen to his older brother's whims. Tim doesn't take the hint.
“If you won't let me in on the case, can you at least inform one other person? As long as it's not Bruce, can you please talk to someone about this?”
Emerald eyes peer over Damian's shoulder as he assesses the older man. Evidently not finding what he was searching for, he continues to ignore Tim.
“Please, Damian.”
With a scowl, the kid finally flips around again. “Why are you so insistent, Drake?”
Tim bites his lip hard enough for the skin to turn white. He avoids the other's stare. “Bruce has a habit of utilizing missions, in particular secret ones, to further his own agenda at the jeopardy of whomever he assigned it to.”
An indignant sneer paints the younger's face at the insult hurled towards their mentor. “You may be an unworthy imposter who doubts Father, but I won't. This is why you were stripped of the title that doesn't fit you.”
With that, Damian proceeds to ignore Tim again. Anger thrums within the older brother, but he knows there is nothing he can do to change the other's mind. If there's anything that Damian is, it's a dedicated but stubborn kid.
Part of Tim, the often buried protective instincts he feels for his baby brother, wants to solve the issue for Damian. He wants to drag Dick into this mess or Jason or Cass or even Duke. His fingers itch with the need to reach out to Oracle and double check whether she sanctions it. He could subtly manipulate the situation so Damian never falls to harm and never learns just what Bruce had in store for him.
There's so much Tim could do, but he won't. He shouldn't and he's been working on being better. He has a habit of controlling and managing other people's lives for them. He needs to allow his loved ones to make their own decisions, even if he knows they will regret it. They deserve that respect. Gods know Steph shouldn’t have had to scream it so many times for it to finally sink into Tim's thick skull.
The visceral obligation to fix this claws at walls of his ribs and it rakes at his intestines, but he's getting better at disregarding it.
It will burn Damian and destroy his trust in Bruce, but the older brother will let it happen. For once, Bruce will reap the direct consequences of his actions without Tim dulling or softening their effects.
He'll be there in the aftermath, and he'll be watching in the meantime. If it appears to be going to a point of no return, if Damian is in serious danger, then Tim will stop it. He will earn the kid's ire for that, but Damian's safety is paramount. Otherwise, it will run its course and prove to be a harsh lesson for the kid.
Tim heaves a sigh as his gaze falls away from the younger one. His shoulders droop with a weariness uncharacteristic of Red Robin.
Damian will make his own decisions. Tim will respect that.
~~~
Damian's hands shake both in fury and hurt. He raises his emerald eyes to glare at Drake.
The older’s expression isn't gloating or smug. It's defeated. He peers down at his kid brother with a dejected frown.
Damian drops his gaze to his lap as he tries to clench his fists. “Why?”
An exhale leaves Tim as he shakes his head. “He does this, Dames. I…” The older brother tries to swallow around the tightening in his throat. Brief flashes of a little black box and screaming matches on rooftops come to mind. “I could explain his reasons, but I'm tired. I'm so tired.”
The shaking of Damian's hands increases to his arms and then to his shoulders. His whole form trembles as his lower lip begins to wobble.
Tim moves until he's perched on the bed next to Damian. He allows their shoulders to touch as a subtle form of comfort. When he hears a little sniffle, Tim can't help but to close his own eyes.
The kid’s voice is nearly a whisper and is cracking with emotion. “You knew.”
The older brother could try to defend himself and state that he didn't truly know. He had a hunch. He worried. He suspected. He wasn't sure.
Still, there wasn't accusation in Damian's tone. Just resignation, hopelessness, and the realization that what's happened to him has happened before.
“Yeah.”
The younger brother nods at the confirmation and leans into the older one. Tim wraps an arm around his shoulder.
Neither acknowledge the tears streaming down the other’s face.
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damianbugs · 1 year ago
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What you mean by" willis todds love for jason is the reason bruce failed him" ?
Sorry ive seen your post and I agree with everything but this just kinda suprise me, not hating, just curiuos
HELLO! so this is a take that is based on pre-new 52 todds, before they were simplified to the one dimensional (and classist) personalities they're known for now. neither of them were shown to be abusive or willfully negligent, but rather found themselves in bad situations out of their control and died, leaving jason to fend for himself.
in the most simplest way what i mean is willis todds self sacrificing actions of turning to crime in order to provide for jason and catherine is the key defining part of jasons life and why he views bruce's love for him as 'not enough'.
(of course, the actual proof of this is like. one single panel and its not even said by jason. however i think it is something that can be found in jasons character through other, less obvious situations.)
in jasons initial (public) return to gotham and that long and convoluted plan to mess around with batman psychology to get the two of them and the joker in the same place, it all seems like a well planned out revenge story until the final conversation:
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Batman: Under the Red Hood
it always stood out to me, not just because of how absolutely heart wrenching the entire moment is (definitely read utrh if you haven't, at least once), but because it really gives you an insight into what love and loving someone means to jason.
to him it's an all encompassing responsibility. this idea that love is something that you need to be able to prove by the quantitive value of what you'll sacrifice for it. in this case, jason is saying i love you" in the way he truly believes gets across how much he means it; i would kill the person who hurt you.
whenever i read this part of utrh, another situation immediately pops into my mind. and that's when jason found out two-face had killed willis todd.
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Batman #411
upon finding out two-face had killed willis, jason goes on a brief grief filled rampage, swearing he'll kill him for what he did. it's important to note that up until now, jason had assumed willis was still in prison, only to find out he was actually murdered.
again, it's this idea that love is the extremes you'll go to for family. jason was well aware of willis' less than legal means to make money, and even bruce makes a mention of it in.
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Batman: A death in the family
i imagine, like a lot of what fuels jason to fight crime now, guilt is a major deciding factor in a lot of his choices. it's this guilt that he feels upon hearing about willis' death that makes him take it out on two-face. it's even guilt that plays a huge factor even in new 52 stories (such as Cheer).
so when he returns to gotham, or even before that, just hearing about what bruce had done following his death (locking the joker up instead of killing him, taking in tim as his robin) were, to him, clear evidence that he did not love jason in any way that mattered. that bruce did not love jason as much as jason loved him.
because loving him means giving up your morals. loving him means sacrificing your health and your time and your safety.
but bruce didn't do any of that in a way jason could see.
i imagine to someone like jason, who lost every parental figure in some capacity, whether it be to illness or crime or something else entirely, the evident disregard for him was as painful as any rejection could have been.
a lot of how jason feels and acts can be seen in much more interesting ways if we all look at him for he is; an unreliable narrator. he is missing huge chunks of story, especially when it comes to bruce, and has no choice but to act irrationally on the little truth he does know.
of course we the readers, and some other characters, know just how hard jasons death was for bruce. how destructively he mourned for his son.
but again, the surface level proof of it is not enough for jason, who's entire life has been love through sacrifice. but now, it's a sacrifice bruce can not ever give him.
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Batman: Under the Red Hood
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shewolf-sinclair · 5 months ago
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I HATE when people dumb down Jason Todd “he’s impulsive/irrational/erratic/brash/dumb/the angry robin!”
WRONG
let me break it down for you fools because he’s actually like one of the most nuanced and complex characters to ever bless my presence (and he’s the best ((my fav)) robin argue with the wall) (tldr at the end but please read the post)
Starting out as robin they are ALL orphans. because that’s like bruce’s thing. BUT dick and tim had families before bruce adopted them. Jason did not. HE GREW UP ON THE STREETS. (+10 points for truama✨) which led him to grow up to be independent and resourceful. Bruce literally met him because he was trying to steal the bat mobiles tires with the intent of reverse engineering them to sell to the people of gotham because bullet proof tires in that kinda city would save lives source
As for being brash. Yeah. he is. he lacks people skills because HE GREW UP ON THE STREETS. yet he still knows how to sympathize with people and not be an ass ALL the time. he’s cocky sure but it’s a defensive mechanism after years of being treated like he doesn’t have value/having to prove himself. and damien is worse lets bsffr.
He’s impulsive. (likely adhd) Teenager. next question.
He’s the angriest robin! he only ever wants vengeance! WRONG. dick is angrier! he was so petty he left gotham and got a new identity just as a fuck you to bruce. any anger Jason has is not unmatched or outdone by other robins and he is rightfully angry he’s been dealt a crappy hand in life. he’s jealous of dick because bruce was ALWAYS comparing him and telling heroic stories of dicks feats. it’s hard not to push yourself to be as good as or better than the og and not to crack under said pressure.
He’s dumb! NOPE. he is as smart if not smarter than tim. He is BRILLIANT when he wants to be. (see above: resourceful) if you take titans (cw) as canon (why wouldn’t u its as canon as any other tv show??) he is a GENIUS. he taught himself chemistry so he could invent and mass produce drugs. he had a genius strategy to fuck with the titans; the puzzle of clues for which dick needed scarecrow, kory, gar, and conner to solve. Not to mention him finding doctor light earlier in the season. He leads the outlaws bc he is a natural leader and good at handling the details!!
He’s a villain! OKAY AND? SO WAS HARLEY BUT WE LUV HER !! DAMIEN WAS A TRAINED ASSASAIN! he puts so much effort into helping people (see above: resourceful) HE RISKED/LOST HIS LIFE FOR IT. HE IS FIERCELY LOYAL. even as red hood he obtains a strict moral code; no drugs to kids or by schools, don’t kill innocent uninvolved people(depends on which media you’re looking at). serve karma on a gold platter. unlawful but USUALLY NOT unethical. he also becomes a vigilante (and the JL for a bit) and does so much good! none of them are perfect ALL of the time. and considering the other DC villains, he’s not that evil.
strength?? no problem! he almost beat dick and bruce several times in the comics!! source
not to mention his proficiency for new things (see above: chemistry) his whole time as robin he uses bat tech. but redhood uses guns and knives. he just picked that up and was a skilled marksman immediately. (also truama response after nearly dying to death stroke)
so what hes kinda fucked in the head. aren’t they all? isn’t that… the point? it’s justified after everything he’s been through AND it makes hims a better character, more 3D more realistic and relatable.
also for the sake of this thesis partially disregard the wonderful work of art that is WFA it’s a fixit. for a reason. because the it was broken and needed fixing.
TLDR; you don’t have to like Jason Todd, or think he’s the best Robin, but you have to admit, he is a complex, layered, well written character. And stop mischaracterizing him and dumbing him down to this impulsive, angry, weak kid.
bonus: my Jason playlist
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theodorecanaryhood · 10 months ago
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Birdie
Arkham Knight/Red Hood/Jason Todd x Male! Reader
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Commissioner Gordon had ordered a City wide evacuation, no civilian to be left - course the odd few stayed behind.
‘Sparrow, what’s your location?’ Batman ask through the comms.
He was roaring down the streets chasing down his next lead to this Arkham Knight, you stayed high up.
‘On top of Iceberg Lounge, Barbara called and needs help. I’m gonna head there now’ you said, grappling to the next building.
‘Robin is at GCPD, he will join the mission later, I need you to stay out of danger’ Batman said for the fourth time tonight.
You entered the clock tower which was used as Oracles base of operations, Barbara had been your friend for a few years now.
When she was Batgirl and you were protege to Selina Kyle, though you liked being good more and Bruce needed extra help since Dick left.
‘Y/n, that you?’ Barbara called out, you walked into the room. Not losing the cowl yet.
‘Yeah sweetness, it’s me’ you smiled, handing Barbara the Chinese food you picked up on the way.
‘Thank God, I forgot to eat’ Barbara chuckled as she took the food from you.
‘I noticed’ you chuckled too, looking at the screens.
The Arkham Knight was causing mayhem but no one knew who he was, you theorised it might be someone personal as he knows Bruce is Batman. But, there were no other details other than he’s military.
‘We ever consider Tim for this Knight character?’ You asked serious as Barbara looked at you.
‘My Tim? No way’ she laughed, picking up her chopsticks and beginning to eat.
‘I’m serious Babs, he could be, he’s never around whenever we go up against the Knight’ you spoke with reason.
Barbara shrugged a little as she looked back at the monitors, you heard a noise in the distance but couldn’t work out what it was.
Batman suddenly appeared on the screen with urgency, panic in his eyes as he called out to Barbara.
‘Oracle, get out of there, now’ Batman called through the speaker.
‘Relax B, no one knows I’m here’ suddenly the power was cut and before you knew it someone had hit you over the back of the head.
It went black for a good space of time, in which you had no recollection of what happened. You just knew you were waking up when your head started to thump.
‘Leave him, he won’t be trouble. If he knows what’s good for him’ you heard a voice, modulated and dark.
You felt a little fear but Bruce always told you to disregard your fears when around an enemy. They’ll sense it and prey on you.
‘Well, hello Birdie’ the Knight said as he pulled the sack off your head.
You weren’t wearing your cowl anymore so he could see your face clearly.
‘What have you done to Barbara?’ You demanded as the Knight laughed, kneeling in front of you.
‘She’s fine, in another room. So what’s your story Handsome?’ He asked as he touched your knee.
You jerked your leg away from his reach as he stood up, his voice being heard even when muttering under his breath.
‘I see how it is Birdie, well, I’ll leave you a little longer and come back later when you’re ready to cooperate’ the Knight said as he left the room.
You didn’t know how long it had been since the Knight last paid you a visit, but you were still alone in the room.
A few Militia members came into the room, you went to throw a punch but were tased and out in a second.
You woke up soon after in a different room, just you and the Knight. Who was now standing in front of you.
‘Hello again Birdie’ he chuckled as you stood up and found your wrist shackled to the wall.
‘Where the fuck am I? What do you want?’ You asked, face as threatening as you could make it.
‘Where’s Batman?’ The Knight asked you, completely ignoring your question.
‘Looking for you’ you looked to the door as you spotted a shadow walking passed.
You calculated in your head it would take roughly 30 seconds to make it to the door from where you were, yet, you would need to find a way to get out of the shackles and passed the Knight.
You suddenly lifted your arms up in front of your face as the Knight came toward you, his hand in front of him.
‘I’m not going to hurt you Birdie, I’m gonna undo your shackles. If you run, I’ll have to hold you down’ The Knight said as he revealed the key in his hand.
You obeyed orders and allowed the Knight to release you, he held your arm as he took you to another room.
This from was dimly lit as you saw four Militia members stand guard with their guns.
‘Hold him until I tell you, well let him go once Batman is dealt with’ Knight said as he left you in the room with the men.
You found yourself tied to the chair as they stood and looked on, readjusting their aims every time you looked like you were about to move.
It has been at least an hour by now, the Knight hadn’t come back yet and you were getting impatient.
Bruce has to be nearby surely, but you needed to find Barbara first. You watched the room and saw two of the men were further away from you, one with their back turned.
You could catch them off guard, but you would need to be quick. Though you were tired, adrenaline would need to take over.
‘I don’t like the way he’s looking at me’ one Militia member said, you didn’t let go of your eye contact.
‘Just ignore him, he doesn’t have any power’ another one responded.
You counted down in your head that you could potentially knock them down on 30 seconds or so, though it would need to be relying on speed and accuracy.
The biggest member got closer to you with his gun in your face, smiling devilishly.
‘Something you want to share?’ He asked trying to seem threatening.
You swing your leg up and kicked him in the thigh, knocking him off guard.
You rose to your feet and have a hard head butt, swinging your back, still being tied to the chair, knocking another member over.
You threw yourself on the ground and broke the chair, grabbing a gun and shooting all four Militia men in the arms, legs or shoulders.
You managed to get the door open, thankfully it wasn’t locked, going to the room you were sure Barbara was in. Seeing she isn’t there, you panicked.
‘Birdie?’ The Knight almost whispered as you saw he was standing. You couldn’t see, but for some reason you knew he was smiling under the mask.
‘Your men suck’ you mocked, lifting the stolen gun in your hand, pointing it at the Knight.
‘You’re outta Ammo’ he chuckled as you pulled the trigger, hearing a click.
The Knight came forward and hit you over the head, making it all go black.
Time seemed to stop for a while as you woke up to daylight, Dick and Tim sitting next to you as you found yourself in a hospital bed.
‘Where am I?’ You mumbled as the two rushed to your side.
‘Gotham General, don’t try and move too much’ Tim said softly, placing his hand on the top of your head.
Barbara?’ You asked, Tim smiled and nodded, answering with no words to let you know she’s fine.
‘Scarecrow?’
‘Arkham, he’ll be there a while. The Knight took off, no one can find him. But I’ll take that as a good thing’ Dick stood near your feet.
‘Where’s Bruce?’ You asked, Dick looked down as Tim teared up a little.
‘He was revealed as Batman, him and Alfred were in the Manor when they released the Knighfall Protocol’ Tim choked a little, you were stunned.
You’d heard of the Knightfall Protocol, but you’d hoped that Bruce would never have to use it.
After grieving and working as a solo act for a while, you’d found yourself coming across the plans of Black Mask.
You’d got to his source of latest crime, the location being not too difficult to find alone.
You walked around to find his men down, some shot or necks snapped. You saw the leftovers of the massacre, only to hear talking in the distance.
Going into a room where you found Black Mask being held up against the window by a man in a mask.
You gasped as you saw Black Mask get kicked out the window, falling to his death.
‘Say hi to Joker for me’ The masked man said, he turned and stood still when he saw you looking at the outcome.
‘Way to make a statement’ you said with a small smile.
The stranger said nothing as he picked up a bag, putting his guns back in the holsters.
‘Do you have a name?’ You asked, the new guy simply nodded.
‘Red Hood’
‘You need help? I’ve found myself working alone since the Bats left’ Red Hood shook his head, placing the bag on his shoulder.
‘I work alone, but thanks for the offer’
You stood deciding on what to do next now that Sionis is taken care of.
‘It’s good seeing you again, Birdie’ Red Hood said as you turned around to look at him.
The suit, the build, the violence and the tone of anger in his voice. It made sense.
‘Knight?’ Was all you got out before Red Hood grappled out of the building.
Gotham City lights were always beautiful to look upon from the rooftops, it had been weeks since the takedown of Black Mask.
‘You’re not an easy man to track down’ you announced yourself to Red Hood. He simply turned around to look at you, then continued on what he was doing.
‘I don’t need a partner Birdie’ he said lowly as you approached.
‘I know, but it would be nice to have friends. Batman is gone, Robin retired and Nightwing went back to Bludhaven. There aren’t many of us left now’ you revealed.
Red Hood scoffed, looking at you as he took off his mask.
‘Us Batboys have gotta stick together huh?’
‘Jason? Jason Todd?’ You asked in disbelief, Jason nodded.
‘In the flesh’
It was this moment that had you thinking that life was in a way, turning in the right direction. You’d only ever heard of Jason, and just that Bruce lost his second son.
Gotham City was under the control of the two of you, and you could both help clean the streets.
You both looked upon the city in a comfortable silence, as you both realised you had the city to yourselves.
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spookyson · 11 months ago
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Hiiiiiii wrote something on my ao3 and decided to post it here!
Jason’s legs are only steady because of experience, otherwise, he had no doubt he would be on the floor and shaking.
“You disregarded my orders, jumped in without thinking, and nearly compromised the entire mission!” yells Bruce. “Exactly what was going through your head?”
Jason fights to keep from fidgeting and focuses on one of the ears of the Bat-cowl. “I saw an opening and I went for it.”
“You entered the fray and almost got yourself killed,” snarls Bruce. Jason’s never been scared of Bruce. Not after those first few months where he was convinced Bruce was going to kill him or do worse. He wouldn’t say he’s scared of him now either, but the fine trembles in his hands indicate otherwise.
“I’m sorry,” he says because what else is there to say? It had been a good night. Batman and Robin were on a mission, a drug bust. They had studied the case for weeks and trained and practiced until both of them knew exactly what to do. It should have gone perfectly. It did not. In between the fight, a fight that Batman had explicitly ordered him to stay out of, Jason had spotted the opportunity to knock out one of the leaders of the whole operation. If he could just get to him then they could learn where the other warehouses were.
Jason has to admit it did not go that way. He’s nursing bruised ribs, black eyes, and a bullet graze on the side of his stomach. Worst of all, he’s getting yelled at by Bruce. Bruce who never so much as raised his voice at Jason. Who always always preferred to talk things out. The guy who had to get Alfred to give Dick and Jason punishments because he couldn’t bear to even ground them for a week.
That Bruce, the gentle one, was furious at Jason. “Jason, I don’t know how we’re supposed to work if you can’t follow basic instructions.”
“Bruce, I’m sorry!” blurts Jason. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I’m benching you,” says Bruce. Like he didn’t hear Jason at all. “For a month.”
“What?” exclaims Jason. The shock momentarily overrides Jason’s fear response. “A month? Bruce, I can’t be out for a month. Gotham needs me. You need me.”
Bruce aims a disdainful glare at him. “I don’t need you like this,” he informs him coolly.
I don’t need you like this. I don’t need you… I don’t need you.
Jason gulps back the sobs threatening to escape his mouth. He’s already thrown the dark hood of his jersey over his head to cover up the tears but he knows that wailing in the middle of the night on a Gotham street is the fastest way to get mugged.
He moves quickly, not eager to get caught out by some opportunistic mugger but with no real destination in mind. Jason just can’t stay at the manor. He knows that much. He knows that leaving now will save him the pain of listening to Bruce kick him out and he doesn’t know if he can survive that.
Before, when he was on the streets, he didn’t know what a warm home and a kind family were. His father was in and out of prison and more often than not stuck with his dick in a hooker or he wandered around the city with a gang. His mother spent half her time high on heroin and the other half wishing she was. And all this was before he had to live in the alleys of Gotham City, America’s crime capital. But he had been able to survive because he didn’t think there was anything better. Now though, after having experienced kindness, affection maybe even love, however little, Jason knew he was too weak.
Maybe he should cry. He should scream loud enough for the entire city to hear him. Some rogue could take him out before Bruce’s words did him in.
The chill of the night air penetrates Jason’s hoodie, cutting him to the very bone. He knows it used to feel worse when he was all skin and twiggy limbs, but he can’t ever remember being so cold. Jason rubs his hands up and down his arms, hoping to generate some semblance of warmth. It doesn’t do an awful lot.
He heads further into the city. There’s nothing else he can do. Gotham nightlife is not for tourists, it’s barely for the locals. Jason has to shake off 3 tails in the span of an hour and all because the hoodie he’s wearing is one of the new ones Bruce got for him. It’s expensive and he guesses that people picked up on that. Jason will probably have to rough it up a bit if he wants to keep it. He instantly rebels at the idea of ruining the clothes. If he recalls correctly, Dick gave it to him for his birthday.
Thinking of Dick only makes it worse. Bruce’s eldest son is… perfect. He’s tall, handsome, smart, charming, and everything Jason’s not. Every night when he puts on the suit he can feel the ghost of Dick Grayson haunting him. An invisible presence that judges every move he makes and every word he says. He knows that Bruce can hear it too. It’s obvious on the training mats when he takes too long to pick something or when he doesn’t smile enough or talk enough or-
It would be so much easier if he could hate Dick, but Jason can’t even manage that properly. How can you hate someone when they make the people you love happy? Bruce’s smile is always brighter when Dick visits. Alfred has that pleased look on his face when Dick informs him that he’s sticking around for the weekend. Jason’s not cruel enough to hate that. He just wishes that was the end of it. But it’s not. He doesn’t hate Dick, rather he wishes Dick loved him. Because Dick is amazing, just like everyone says he is. He’s clever and funny, and Jason knows he only throws out stupid puns so people don’t know that. He’s the most talented fighter Jason knows, better than Bruce or he’s going to be and Jason wants to be just like him. Dick is caring. He loves people with such strength that it leaves Jason breathless.
Jason also knows that Dick hates him. For taking Robin when he had no right to and Jason understands. He gets it, okay? Dick doesn’t want some no-name street trash taking the mantle he made legend. Fair enough. But someone has to do it. People will say Gotham needs Batman to fight the darkness but it needs Robin to shine the way just as much.
Jason knew Dick would hate him for that. He wishes not to care so much.
Jason almost trips over his feet, Robin training be damned, when a scream slices through the night. He grabs a wall to brace himself and idly wonders if that was him and then it comes again. Loud and scared. They sound young.
Jason’s moving before he knows it, running at top speed down the street and the source of the noise. He was good at navigating Gotham by streetlight years ago but Bruce’s training has toned the muscles in his arms and legs. He’s only slightly hampered by his injuries from earlier.
Another gut-wrenching scream later Jason finds what he’s looking for down an alley. A group of men are gathered in a half circle around a smaller figure pressed to a wall. He slows his approach, even if he’s raring to rush in and smash their heads in. Bruce’s words from earlier replay in his head. Think, Jason, think. Almost all of them are taller than Jason but he’s willing to bet that he’s the only trained fighter here. Then again, they have the advantage of numbers and he has someone to protect.
He creeps closer, near enough to hear the exchange.
“Stop screaming will ya? Ain’t nobody gonna come running ta help,” drawls a pale guy in a green beanie. There’s a lewd smirk on his face that further unsettles Jason’s stomach. “So why don'tcha be quiet and let us have our fun, eh? Promise it won’t hurt too much.”
Now that he can see more clearly, Jason realizes that the victim is a dark-skinned female, maybe a few years older than Jason, with an expression that alternates between a scowl and a fearful frown. She’s frightened but she doesn’t want them to see that. “Fuck off,” she spits. “Before I bite your dicks off.”
Another man with a red jacket slams his hands onto her mouth. “Shut the fuck up, bitch.”
His friend, Green Beanie, tugs his arm away. “Shit, dude. Don’t fuck her up yet.”
“Let the rest of us have a taste first, eh?” adds another guy.
Jason doesn’t need to hear anymore. He waves a hand and captures the girl’s attention, gesturing for her to run. She locks eyes with him and shakily nods, fear finally breaking through her bravado. Jason keeps the scowl off his face as he silently picks up the lid of a trash can. He creeps a few steps closer and slams the lid down on the biggest guy’s head. It works like a charm, he drops to the ground.
The rest of the gang paused, shock coloring their faces. The girl uses it to escape, dashing out of the alley with impressive speed. That seems to wake them up.
“Oi,” says Green Beanie. “Fuck do ya think you’re doing, runt?”
Jason lunges at the guy nearest to him, a strong punch to the gut and the dude keels over. “Beating the shit out of you.” Yeah, he doesn’t really have Robin’s penchant for puns and jokes.
They collectively realize he’s a threat and finally, run at him.
He ducks low to avoid a punch and kicks his attacker’s legs out from under him. The man goes flying, conveniently tripping up another of his friends. Jason’s already moving to dodge a kick coming for his thing. He swings a punch at Red Jacket, the dude who hit the girl and winces a little when his fist meets solid muscle. It does the trick and Jason’s sure it’ll leave a nasty bruise, but his estimation of the skill level in the alley may be a little off.
He’s got no time to regret it though, because Green Beanie procures a wicked-looking baseball bat and lifts it high to bring down on Jason’s head. He throws himself to the side, rolling to recover and Red Jacket’s in his face with a mean smirk and a meaner-looking fist. Jason. A silver knuckle buster decorates his thick fingers. Jason knows this will hurt.
He cries out, gasping in pain when the metal connects with his ribs. Fuck, the bruises. Jason slumps to the ground, almost blacking out because it hurts too much. He hears a scattering of footsteps around him. Fuck, they have him surrounded.
Jason weakly lifts his head and looks right into at Green Beanie, who tosses the handle of his bat from hand to hand and grins. “Well, well, looks like you’re the fun for tonight, buddy. ‘Specially ‘cause you let the whore run off.”
He only has enough breath to pant, “Fuck you.” before the bat connects with his shoulder.
Jason feels every single blow on his softened skin. It hurts more now as if his grueling training as Robin had somehow softened him. Every brutal kick from someone’s shoes that bore metal studs cut into his skin. The bat came down relentlessly, ruthlessly slamming bone harder into the unforgiving concrete. Jason couldn’t hear a lot more above his own screams and grunts and how it hurt so fucking much.
He tried to reason the hurt away. It would be like this more often from now on since he would need to head back onto the streets prior to finding a job. Jason’s older now, but in no less danger of being jumped. If he couldn’t take a beating now then he wouldn’t survive long in Crime Alley.
It only makes Jason cry. If only Bruce loved him. If only Dick loved him. He wouldn’t be here. He could go further back. He wouldn’t be here if his mother had loved him more than her drugs, he wouldn’t be here if his father had cared for anyone other than himself.
But that’s the kicker, isn’t it? The punchline of the tasteless joke that’s Jason’s life. Nobody loves him. It’s time he accepts that.
Jason almost doesn’t notice when they stop hitting him. Trapped in a haze of hurt and pain as he is, it takes him a while to realize that it’s oddly silent. Jason has just enough common sense to excruciatingly push himself up on his elbows. They’re shaking and he’s not confident in his ability to stand but he knows he has to get up.
Jason looks up to realize the men attacking him and unconscious and on the ground. A lone figure stands between them, cloaked in darkness and for one wild second Jason thinks it’s Batman. Come to save Jason Todd from himself again. The person steps closer and Jason falters when he recognises them.
Nightwing slowly strides closer to Jason, every powerful muscle in his body subtly angled submissively, just enough so that a victim (and Jason registers that he is the victim right now) remains calm enough for him to administer any first aid.
But Dick can’t see him like this. He can’t know just how stupid and pathetic Jason really is. Dick would hate him more than he already does for sullying Robin.
Jason uses his relatively unharmed hand to pull his hood up and scrambles backward, wincing when his skin rubs against the alley concrete. “Don’t-” he cringes at how broken his voice sounds but is grateful for it all the same. It covers up his natural cadence. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Hey, kid, calm down. My name’s Nightwing, I’m with Batman. I’m here to help,” says Dick. “I need to see if you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” Jason lies. “Please just. Leave me alone.”
Something sad flashes over Dick’s face but it’s gone as quick as it came. He takes a step back, giving Jason more space, but he knows the older vigilante well enough to know it’s not an out. “Alright. Walk out then.”
Jason glared through the hood. Dick must know he can’t stand. He’s probably waiting for Jason to admit it.
“I’m not showing you where I live,” he says instead. It’s a little hard to talk though. Jason feels tired.
Dick easily grins. “I won’t follow you, scout’s honor. So long as you can get up.”
He knows it’s a lie. He knows that. Jason still tries to stand. He grabs the wall with one hand and heaves himself upward, pointedly ignoring the potent ache in his gut. Fuck, what if his ribs are broken? He takes a deep breath and almost kneels over. It hurts so much. He needs- He needs to go to the Cave. But he can’t, so he’ll have to make the trek to Leslie’s clinic. She could recognize him though…
Jason’s not surprised when he trips and hits the ground. His head slams into the concrete, along with his tender abdomen and he can’t hold anything back as he screams.
Dick’s on him in seconds, his gentle hands quickly lifting him off the ground and flitting up and down Jason’s body to catalogue all the injuries he has. It’s a lot, Jason would know. Dick’s hands reach his hood, probably to check his head and Jason cannot stop him. The last thing he sees, just before he blacks out, is Dick’s gaping mouth.
“Jason?”
“Jason!”
Jason jerks awake only to be pushed back into a soft surface. There’s a face floating above his face but everything’s so blurry.
“Jason? Jay, how are you feeling?” Their voice sounds as though Jason is underwater. “Hey, Little Wing. C’mon, tell me how you’re doing.”
Dick? But that’s impossible, Dick’s not nice to him. Jason decides it’s a dream and it can’t hurt to talk to the Dick-whose-not-real. “I’m okay. What about you?”
Nightwing laughs, the sound accompanied by strong fingers threading through Jason’s hair. “I’m okay, but you took quite a few hits, huh? Wanna tell me what you were doing out there?”
“I was going back,” mumbles Jason, suddenly saddened.
“Back where?”
“Back to the Alley.”
The hand in his hair stills for a fraction of a second before Dick continues his grooming. “And why were you going to Park Row?”
Jason doesn’t want to talk about it yet he doesn’t want to make Dick angry. He likes nice Dick, he doesn’t want him to go away. “Bruce don’t want me anymore.”
“What?”
But Jason’s eyes are growing heavier and he can only hum in response as sleep claims him once more.
The second time he wakes up is less pleasant than the first. For one, there’s no one by his bed. Secondly, the pain that was blissfully absent at his first waking has come back with vengeance. His chest and arms throb with pain and he can barely reach for the water bottle on the table next to him without crying.
He’s also in the Batcave. The medbay to be exact.
He can’t hear much beyond his own heavy breathing but Jason’s learned to pick up other signs of Dick and Bruce’s arguments. Whenever Batman and Nightwing fight, one can see it in the Batarangs that Dick tosses around in frustration. It’s obvious in the way Bruce opens up cold cases to wind himself down. Jason can just barely see the Bat-computer screen from his bed and groans when he reads that the murder dates back to 1943. Of course, the family deserves justice, but Jason wished it wasn’t at the expense of his family.
He digs his nails into the flesh of his palm. This is not his family. He should remember that.
Jason feels steady enough despite the aches to try standing. He’s pleasantly surprised when he manages to stay upright and even elated when he learns he can walk. Jason should be able to move quickly enough to avoid any more potential beatdowns.
He walks to the med bay doors and catches the sound of Dick’s voice. It’s low and furious and Jason is not surprised. He must be talking about Jason.
“-him? What the fuck is wrong with you? He was, oh my god, his ribs were broken!” yells Dick. He’s shedded the Nightwing suit and is clothed in a loose Gotham University hoodie and sweatpants. Dick had probably gotten showered and changed while Jason was sleeping. He pauses and turns around, meeting Jason’s eyes. “You’re awake.”
Jason ducks his head. “Uh, yeah.” He makes himself meet Dick’s eyes. “Thanks for the save.” Jason looks to Bruce. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come back. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Jason’s not even given the opportunity to face the Batcave exit. He knows Dick’s not a speedster, that’s the Flash 2.0 he hangs around with, but he swears that no human should have been fast enough to cover the distance between them in 2 seconds flat.
Dick is mindful of Jason’s injuries but firm when he grabs Jason around the waist and yanks him to him to Bruce. “Where do you think you’re going, Little Wing?” he asks, false humor in his voice.
“Jason,” interrupts Bruce. He’s never looked more forbidding than he does right now, even though he’s dressed in civvies. An impassive stare resides on his face. It doesn’t help Jason’s nerves one bit. “What happened?”
“I was at Crime Alley, I uh, got jumped,” responds Jason. He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “It’s fine, it happens.”
Bruce reaches out with a shaky hand. Jason stays still. He knows Bruce won’t hurt him but it has not been a good day. The tips of his fingers lightly brush over the swollen areas of Jason’s eye, so gently he can’t almost cannot feel them. Jason relaxes, Batman won’t hurt him, even though he is about to fire him.
Dick softly pushes Jason into Bruce, who envelopes him into his body. The hug is harsh and unyielding but arranged so it does not aggravate Jason. He can smell the soap from the showers and the detergent Alfred useless from Bruce’s clothes, as well as a faint hint of expensive cologne. He would say it smells like his father and just for this second, he can pretend he has one.
“Never do that again,” says Bruce, whispering right into Jason’s ear.
Jason can only agree because he doesn’t want this to end, even though he’s not sure he knows what Bruce is talking about.
Bruce’s larger form abruptly scoops Jason up and for once he doesn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed about it. He still hides his face away when he sees that Dick is still there.
“We should ice his ribs, B,” says Dick. “They must be hurting by now.”
Bruce only grunts in acknowledgement but Dick’s exasperated sigh is practically a flag of peace. Jason smiles a little.
They sit him down on the same bed. Bruce squeezes his hand once more before leaving to alert Alfred and fetch an ice pack. Dick elects to stay behind with Jason.
He defensively hunches up a little. This must be when Dick rails at him for ruining Robin. He knows he deserves it but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. “I’m sorry,” he says instead. “I know I fucked up.”
“Kid.” Dick sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think we gotta clear something up.” Jason doesn’t say anything, Dick continues. “I’m not going to be mad at you for getting beat up by a pack of thugs. I know it’s probably not your fault and no way am I going to yell at a kid with broken ribs. I’m not B.”
“Okay.”
“And I also think that B’s gotta clear somethings up too. I know he’s a dumb jerk sometimes but he probably didn’t mean to kick you out for one little fuck up on a mission,” finishes Dick.
“But I’m not you,” exclaimed Jason. “He loves you, he doesn’t… he doesn’t think like that about me.” And if Bruce doesn’t love him then he must hate him because if his own parents didn’t care enough to stick around for him then a wealthy man who is better of in every single way probably resents him for taking his real son’s place. Fuck, Jason just had to agree to Bruce’s proposal, didn’t he? He couldn’t tough it out for a few more years, find a job and maybe not feel so fucking pathetic right now.
There’s wetness on his cheeks. He’s crying. He’s crying in front of Dick Grayson. He’s crying in front of Robin. Maybe Willis was right. He might’ve been a good-for-nothing asshole but he obviously knew something if he managed to survive to adulthood in Crime Alley. Whereas Jason almost had his fucking head busted open, he was only alive because Nightwing decided to step in. He really was worthless, wasn’t he? A waste of space just as bad as his father.
Who the fuck had he been kidding? He didn’t belong here. Jason was the son of gang member and a drug addict, not Batman, not Bruce Wayne. And he definitely wasn’t Dick’s brother.
Nightwing looked surprised. “Uh kid? I mean Jason. Jason, what’s wrong?”
Jason doesn’t even know what he says next. It’s probably something cringe-inducing, considering his emotional state at the time. All he knows is that one second he’s weeping out his heart on the med bay bed and the second he’s wrapped up in Dick Grayson.
At first, he doesn’t quite compute it. Jason’s always reckoned with the fact that there will be some things in life that will be unattainable for him. It used to be his parents and college when he was on the streets, and though some things are within reach thanks to Bruce, a hug from Dick Grayson never registered on that list. It was too far-fetched, even for Jason’s dreams.
It feels real now though. It smells like old clothes and feels like hard muscles and it sounds like someone slowly breathing and encouraging Jason to slow down.
“Jason. Jay, slow down. It’s okay,” says Dick. “I got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”
Jason nods from where he’s pressed into Dick’s shoulder. “Okay,” he breathes.
Dick slowly pushes away a little, just enough for them to make eye contact. “Hey, listen. I know I haven’t been the best brother.”
Jason can’t help it. “We’re brothers.”
“Yeah, Jay.” One of Dick’s hands reaches up to brush Jason’s cheeks. “We’re brothers. I’m sorry for being an asshole, it wasn’t your fault.”
Brothers. They are brothers. Jason always wanted a sibling.
“And I won’t ditch you. No matter what you do. Bruce won’t either, but I’m not him, I don’t have all his million rules and hang-ups.” Dick leaned in so their foreheads touched. “When I say you’re my brother, I mean that it’s all that will ever matter.”
Jason was a street kid, one needs a hefty amount of paranoia to survive that. But it also taught him how to differentiate the truth from a lie. Nothing in the determined set of Dick’s lips and earnest expression in his eye spoke of falsifications.
He meant it when he said he cared. He meant it when he said nothing else was important.
“Okay.”
Also link to ao3
Alsoooo opening up requests, if anyone has a gen batfam prompt I'd be happy to write it!
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littlebabytimmybird · 2 years ago
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gonna be an unpopular opinion but the way fans treat tim is really indicative of how society views autistic people. tim is HIGHLY autistic coded, from his extreme interests to his social awkwardness.
in early comics with him in them, tim is actually a pretty good representation of autism. he is shown to have a strong interest in batman and robin/nightwing, he doesn't realize when he's upsetting people, and he often goes about things in a blunt, clumsy way. even the way he speaks fluctuates between being incredibly articulate to incredibly childlike. he seems simultaneously innocent and all-knowing, childish and an old soul. all of this is common in level 1 autism spectrum disorder. tim is clearly gifted but he isn't a super-genius, he's just a talented and dedicated kid. although he didn't have to work the hardest of all the robins in general by any means, he did have to work the hardest to become a robin, as he lacked any training before that and came from a privileged background where he had been somewhat coddled by his families wealth. even jason had fighting experience, tim did not.
another aspect of tim's character that is a good representation is his empathy. there is a theory of empathy that says there are 3 types, emotional empathy, "I feel as you feel", cognitive empathy, "I understand how you feel", and compassion, "i want you to feel better" like many autistic people, tim is somewhat lacking in the second category but has an abundance in the third. he talks openly about the death of jason in front of bruce dick and alfred without realizing it could upset them and is shocked when they react with anger. he often gets himself in trouble by saying things that come across as rude or blunt without meaning to. however, he is incredibly compassionate and deeply cares for the people around him, showing that he is very capable of empathy.
a major autistic trait tim embodies is what psychiatry calls an "uneven profile". uneven profiles are when someone is very skilled in some areas but behind in others. tim is a clear example of an uneven profile because he is highly intelligent and learns practical skills like fighting quickly, but he is lacking in non-practical skills. he has a black-and-white way of thinking about good and evil that is more commonly seen in young children than in teenagers. he idolizes batman and nightwing and it takes him years to learn that they have flaws like any human. a large part of tim's journey is learning to overcome this style of thinking but it is still a clear developmental delay in the beginning.
overall, tim is a compassionate, warm, and intelligent, yet flawed character. he is a sweet and clever kid with a big heart (sometimes too big).
so why is it that in fanon, tim is portrayed as a cold, calculating, all-intelligent super genius with no autonomy? disregarding the fact that it is an insult to his character, it is also an insult to autistic people in general, especially when people claim they headcanon him as autistic but use the fanon version of him.
there are 3 main ways that autistic people are viewed in fandoms:
The Artificial Intelligence. the artificial intelligence autistic stereotype pins us as robots, capable of great feats of intelligence but incapable of emotion. this is the most neutral of the stereotypes, as we are not seen as human and therefore not stigmatized as humans.
The Man Child. despite its name, the man-child autistic stereotype can apply to any age or gender. the man-child autistic's primary trait is being annoying. they are likely savants, but they use their skills to be obnoxiously pedantic. they are unreasonable and demand everything be to their specifications at all times. sheldon cooper from the big bang theory fits into this category.
The Woobie. these woobified autistic characters will always be found wearing oversized clothes and having shutdowns but NEVER meltdowns. they cry often and need to be held and comforted by friends and family who serve as caretakers to the 'helpless baby autistic.'
and when the people who claim to like him write about him, tim is never held responsible for his actions, he never takes others into account, he is a tech genius and he has questionable morals, or doesn't seem to have a moral code at all. he has a troubling coffee addiction and lacks sleep at all times but, like any good supercomputer, he can go out and patrol just fine despite it. he is a machine, running on air and spite.
it is mostly tim's haters who portray him in the second way. that's when you get a tim who is selfish and snobbish, mostly towards poor innocent damian wayne who has never done anything wrong in his life.
sometimes, tim is written so he can't take care of himself. when he does have emotions, they're all sad ones. he cries himself to sleep, and dick or bruce or even jason for some reason have to come and comfort him. they force him to stop drinking so much coffee and to go to bed at a reasonable hour even as an adult.
now, don't get me wrong. there are some autistic people, quite a few actually, who do need to be taken care of as adults. hell, I'll probably be one of them to some degree. but even with someone who will never be able to live alone, autonomy is the most important thing to remember. people should always be allowed to make their own decisions as much as they are capable of. and tim in fanon has almost no autonomy. it is, plainly speaking, a huge fucking insult to the disabled community.
When the first and third stereotypes are mixed, you get a cruel mockery of an uneven profile. similar to the manchild trope, this is a tim who needs everything his way, but this time it's all given in to by those around him.
so, in conclusion: in early comics tim was an excellent accidental portrayal of low support needs ASD, but fanon took away all his positive autistic traits and turned him into a shallow stereotype of an autistic person and a mockery of all his actual autistic traits. even the seemingly harmless coffee-lover headcanon feeds into the horrific stereotypical treatment of his character.
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wildestheart4ever · 2 years ago
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@stealingyourbones @aikoiya @markus209 @kyrianclawraith 
Jason.
He was still picking off meat bits from his finger nails as he, Tucker and Sam walked away from the dumpsters full of wasted meat, surly and exhausted after such an eventful day.
In all honesty, the Lunch Lady brought some sense of familiarity, the lunacy of everything about her making everything feel almost nostalgic - now don’t get him wrong! He’d very much like to go without smelling like a total meat locker at the end of every encounter [and he was sure this wouldn’t be the last time], but exercising his training and powers to their full extent felt almost exhilarating. 
The sound of Dash hollering in outrage as he squirmed out of the pile of meat Jason had dumped on him was just a cherry on top. 
“For a first time of superheroing, I’d say that wasn’t so bad.” Sam offhandedly commented, vigorously scrubbing her hands with the disinfectant wipes she apparently carried around with her. Honestly, she could groan and bitch over Tucker all she liked, but those two were more alike than they wanted to admit, watching Tucker wipe under his nails just as vigorously.
Jason shrugged, “Not my first time kicking ass.” He muttered in response, ignoring the curious looks the two threw him.
“Maybe, but I bet it’s your first time dealing with ghost.” Tucker said. It was almost bizarre, watching the guy fall into this strange mode of professionalism - he shielded them, herded the ghost away from the public, distracting her with goading and jabs to keep her attention on him, pulling out all the stops that spoke of a long time knowing what he was doing.
Sam nodded in agreement, giving him a nudge of approval, “You did good.”
Jason tried not to blush under the praise. It did feel a bit like going out as Robin for the first time, finally getting to go out there and put his hard earned training to good use. Flying through the air at full speed without the assistance of a grappling hook had been exhilarating, as was going ham [heh!] on that giant hunk of meat with all the enhanced strength he had gotten control of.  
Still, fighting the ghost of an ole lunch lady who used to work in Casper High had been an experience.
“Thanks, was honestly worried for a second there - while on the topic, we should probably keep a journal about this - about ghosts, I mean -, on this case: It seems like Ghost do not like when people meddle with things that they consider theirs. Sam.”
Tucker grinned evilly, leaning over to look at her, “Yeaaaah, Sam.”
The girl rolled her eyes and looked away from them with a huff, “Well sorry if I was looking for variety in the menu, how was I supposed to know a ghost would have such a big issue with that?”
“HA! Variety my butt, you wanted us to eat grass, Sam, grass.”
Nudging Tucker to tell him to back off [’Cause by gods this girl did not take well to aggressive opposition], Jason threw her a patient look, “Sam, that wasn’t asking for variety. You had them switch out all the meaty foods to your Ultra-recycled vegetarian diet - disregarding the people who can’t even eat that stuff.” He chided.
Sam paused in her tracks, brows knitting as she pondered over his words, and looked down at her feet, “Oh, didn’t even think of that.”
Good, she wasn’t being intentionally disregardful of other people - that was good, he wouldn’t like to live in a world where she might become a rogue, god knows what that’d be like. She was just an intense, angry teenage girl who cared too much, abysmal execution not withstanding....... She and Dick would’ve gotten on great he was sure.
“Plans for Friday still a go?”
Ah, Friday, the day for when they were planning to explore the Ghost Zone, wander into the depths of the unknown completely and utterly unprepared, Bruce would’ve broken out in hives.
Jason gave a sharp nod, “Yup! Jazz will be studying at the library and go to movies with a friend after, while the Fentons would be at City Hall, looking into trying to convince some white collar to approve installations of some safety measures against ghost, we got the whole place to ourselves for approximately a few hours.” Honestly, the amount of time they had on their hands wasn’t to his liking, especially considering how much could go wrong.
Sam nodded in approval, “Knowing them, they’d be spending all day there getting that to happen.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t be surprised if they were itching to go now, considering how long they’ve been raving about today.” They three winced at recollections of the Fentons’ excited babblings, trembling with the sheer magnitude over their first ghost sighting and dragging poor Jason into it.
Jason resisted the urge to shudder, “I’m trusting they’ll be preparing a list of proper protective measures and a whole presentation about it before they go knocking down those doors,” He wryly commented, kicking a stray piece of broken concrete, “Jeez, not only are they shitty parents, they’re embarrassing ones too. Surprised Danny just never booked it......or Jazz for that matter.”
“Not like they could.” Tucker muttered, looking suddenly uncertain and uncomfortable about the topic.
Right, right, this kinda thing was never as easy as one wished it to be, he was sure Jazz would’ve jumped at the chance to get her and her brother out if she could, and god knows the can of worms that were Danny’s own complicated feelings about his parents.
Peachy.
“Any so, we’ll check over our preparations for Friday. As of now, keep our heads low until the parents stop breathing down our necks over the cafeteria mishap, we still have our setup in the OPs center?” Sam asked, nodding in approval at Jason’s affirmation, “Good, let’s hope it stays that way........”
“You know........”
Jason didn’t like the sound of that, eyeing the girl warily, “What?” “We’ve known that ghost were showing up a lot longer, and it seems the stronger ghost are finally taking an interest in showing up. You might need proper back-”
“No.” Nope, absolutely not, he was not getting other kids involved in this mess, much less untrained ones. It’s bad enough these two won’t run the other direction when a ghost does show up, however seemingly weak the ghost in question is, he’s not going to let them actually try to engage.
The girl huffed, grabbing the boys’ sleeves and dragging them into an empty alley, giving them some semblance of privacy, and turned to face Jason, “Look, I know you got this iffy thing about teen heroes going on and all, but you’re just as new to this -”
“I at least had training, Sam, training and experience I shouldn’t have had in the first place, but I have it -”
“You never got in a serious fight with ghosts before, though, and while you did a great job handling the Lunch Lady, it showed. Look, if not that, at least teach us how to use to use the Fentons’ weapons.”
“Sam -”
“For defensive purposes,” Tucker quickly offered, giving the other boy a beseeching look, “Sam’s got the right idea, this whole ghost thing is looking like a long term change and we never know what kind of ghost will be coming out of that portal - the least we can do is learn to defend ourselves.” 
God, these two. Jason dragged his hands down his face with a tired groan, throwing the two teens a glowering look before looking away, pursing his mouth in consideration. Self defense, okay, not a bad thing to have up your sleeve, and who knows what trouble these two would get into with their involvement.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jason sighed, “Self defense, that’s it! But can you at least promise me you won’t try to jump into any fights?”
“On the off chance we don’t face any potential kidnappings or what other such bullshit the further we’re involved in this mess, we promise.” Tucker swore, hands held up in a scouts salute.
Jason tried not to twitch at the boy’s swearing, practically envisioning Mrs. Foley’s disapproving stare, and just looked at the boy.
He’s seen recollections of Danny’s memories of this kid, he’s never been a boy scout.
Sam smiled cheekily, almost as if knowing what he was thinking, “What he said.” She chirped, looking practically eager at the promise of training.  
MUCH LATER [Said in SpongeBob narrator voice]
“Hey, Danno! You hear about today? After years of study, we finally caught sighting of our-”
- “Yeah, dad. I know, you told me......a million times already.” Jason cut Jack off with a sneering grimace, grumbling under his breath as he stalked further into the lab, perusing the work table for any finished project that might need tampering.
Gotta give points to the Fentons’ lack of concern with their kids waltzing in and out the lab all willy nilly, stealing stuff would’ve been a lot harder if they had been competent parents.
He hummed quietly in interest at what looked to be clunky looking communicators, they looked nearly finished, nearly, and would sure be useful for the upcoming trip. Throwing the large man a watchful look, he carefully swiped the devices and stuffed them in his pocket, deciding to look for the blueprints later. Making sure he hadn’t been caught, Jason threw the distracted man a inquiring look, “Any lab chores today, old man?”
He heard Maddie huff in amusement, looking in her direction and trying not to flinch away as she patted his cheek affectionately, “Not today, sweetie. You should go to your room and clean up, and don’t forget we’re going to talk about your little mishap yesterday, okay?” She informed, giving him a stern look.
Rolling his eyes, he hefted his backpack higher onto his shoulder and turned to leave, “Yeah yeah. Gonna order Chinese takeout, so try remembering to clean up before coming up to eat, last thing we need is the kung-pao chicken coming to life on us.”
Blinking at the flippant demanded, Maddie blinked before giving him a hesitant smile, “Sure thing, you know where the money is.”
“Mhmm.”
With that, Jason quickly left the lab at the sign of Jack preparing for another tirade, already looking ready to swing the unfinished bazooka in his hands.
He nearly bumped into Jazz on his way to the stairs, mumbling a sheepish sorry and watching as she wrinkled her nose at him.
Jazz waved her hand in front of her face, grimacing at what was most likely the wafting stench coming off him, “Eugh, take a shower, will you? You smell like a meat locker.”
“What are you talking about?” He paused to duck his head and jokingly smell the collar of his shirt, giving it an exaggerated sniff before looking back at her innocently, “It’s my new cologne: Odeur d'homme.”
The girl blinked. Oh right, Danny doesn’t speak french, whoops.
He watched as she finally rolled her eyes, huffing in exasperation and crossed her arms, “Well you should consider getting a refund, cause Smell of Man reeks.” Turning away to head for the kitchen.
“Shows what you know,” He called after her, leaning over the banister to stare at her retreating back, “Hey! Mind calling the Chinese place? Ma gave the okay for takeout.”
“Sure, want anything in particular?”
If he requested enough food to feed a small army, well, he could always point fingers at the giant of a man that was Jack Fenton. Quickly heading upstairs before Jazz could comment on his large request. It was hard to come by carbs in a house where the food was mostly contaminated, better take advantage where he can, right?
.
FRIDAY
“Ready?” Sam asked, hands flitting nervously around the newly minted com Jason and Tucker finished working on and tested an hour ago.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jason confirmed, tightening the glowing knot of rope around his torso. He made sure to wrap it around him like a harness, ensure that there wouldn’t be a chance of it unraveling......not that it would, Bruce made sure he knew his way around a rope. He turned as Tucker came ambling down the stairs, closing the door behind him firmly shut, “Fentons gone?”
“Just sped around the corner. I swear, I’m surprised that man hasn’t gotten arrested yet,” Tucker stated, moving to stand by Sam’s side and giving him a considering look, “Show time?”
Turning to look at the large shut gates that led to the Ghost Zone, Jason gave a determined nod, “Show time.”
A rush of adrenaline surged through him as the doors opened to reveal the green swirling abyss. It niggled at his mind just staring at it, like he’s seen something like this before.
Gentle hands on his shoulders, guiding him toward a pool of glowing green, stopping to stand at its edge and staring down into its glowing abyss.
Confusion. What was going on?
The same hands caressed his face, “I’m sorry, but know I’m only doing this is for your own good.”
A shove. Stumbling back and falling into the glowing pool with a loud splash.
Drowning. Can’t breathe. Surface growing further out of reach.
Everything was too bright.
Pain.
“Jason?”
He was pulled from the memory by the sound of Tucker’s voice, turning to meet Sam and Tucker’s worried stares. Tucker tilted his head, eyeing him with concern, “You good, man? We can always postpone this until the speeder is ready.” He gently offered, gesturing toward the giant pile of metal that the Fentons were working on.
Jason quickly shook his head, “No, it’s - I’m fine. I got this.” He reassured them, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath before slowly advancing. 
“Be careful.” Sam called after him, hastily shoving the comm into her ear, Tucker stood by her side, twisting the end of Jason’s tether nervously in his hands.
Turning to give them a reassuring nod, Jason took another deep breath before making a leap.
Suddenly finding himself surrounded by glowing green.
Taking a steadying breath, pulling himself from the unease of a blind mission, Jason pushed himself forward, taking in the Ghost Zone
Doors, there were doors everywhere he looked, moaning ghouls rushing past him with eerie shrieks had him stumbling back in alarm, not looking to get into any potential scuffles. It was weird, it felt - it felt almost......familiar. 
“Jason, Jason can you hear me? Over”
Tucker’s voice rang through his ear, and Jason felt a brief relief at knowing their work was successful, reaching up to tap his comm, “Loud and clear, Tuck. Also, you don’t actually have to say ‘over’ whenever you say somethin’, just so you know.”
“.......Sounds more official that way, like a mission.”
He huffed with amusement, taking in his odd surroundings as he proceeded forward.
“How’s it lookin’ in there? See anything that might be of use?”
“Not gonna lie to ya, Sam - it’s very green in here, lots of doors and.......islands.” He informed, staring at the tiny floating islands in the distance. There was that niggling feeling again, like this should be familiar to him. 
A rush of vertigo suddenly slammed into him, followed by a sharp pain piercing through his skull that had him stumbling with an alarmed grunt.
The sound of Tucker and Sam’s cries of concern were washed over by images of recollections of swooping past countless islands with reckless abandon, feelings of mischief and rowdiness, followed by little green.......somethings always floating in the corner of his vision, making chirps and trilling sounds he swears he could understand.
What?
Shaking his head, Jason massaged his temple with the heel of his palm, breathing heavily as he looked at the Ghost Zone with new, uncertain eyes.
“Jason! Jason, can you hear me!? Please say something!!” 
“I think I’ve been here before.” He uttered, ignoring Sam’s frantic calls, swallowing thickly as he registered the unexpected information, feeling wrong footed all of a sudden.
“What, what do you mean? Over.” 
“I think......” He hesitantly leaned against a frame of a random door, combing his fingers through his hair in agitation as he threw another uncertain look around him, “......I think this is where I went when I died.”
He could feel the vertigo looming in the distance, swooping down on him while he was suddenly being blinded by a bright light. Jason could feel his body sink lower and lower, everything around him growing murkier the further his vision blurred.
Blinking and huffing in agitation, Jason shook his head, looking around his suddenly empty surroundings, every door and island, every ghoul and odd blob suddenly gone from sight.
Turning to survey his new surroundings, Jason tensed in shock to find someone with him, standing a good ten feet from him.
The man was tall, broad, and looked just as uncertain of this place as Jason felt - and for a moment, he thought he was looking at Bruce. But that wasn’t right. A feeling of dread crawled up his spine when the man laid eyes on him, staring at him with searing green eyes, blinking before dawning realization showed on his face.
“Jason?”
The voice was almost familiar, Jason found, and it finally occurred to him as to why. The man was younger than he first thought now that he was taking a closer look, more in his late teens actually, he had black hair, a streak of white at his hairline cutting through dark tresses, there were also three very familiar little birthmarks on his face.
Jason realized with befuddlement that he was staring at his own face. Realized who it was he was staring at.
“Danny?”
I’m sure you know by now the Danny that will meet Batman will be a little more jaded. Forcing to learn lethal violence and being compliant to one’s expectations just to get any chance of freedom will surely do that to what is basically an innocent civilian boy. Will be a little more brutish when impatience hits him when request for a private meeting with the Bats are being rebuked? Maybe.
Jason is gonna make Vlad’s life hell, I assure you. No matter how much he dislikes the Fentons, there’s nothing that gives him the bigger ick than this narcistic entitled asshole crying “JAck STolE MaDDie FRoM mE”
Also, he may also be stuck in this secret keeping deal Danny had with Vlad, but it does not mean he’s gonna let this fucker barge into Danny’s life. Aka tell the Fentons that Vlad has been cornering him, harassing him and making him uncomfortable - you know! Not exactly implying anything, but letting the parents draw unsavory conclusions.
Who’s gonna win? The beloved child......or the estranged man this couple hasn’t been in contact with for the last 20 yrs.
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mikeylivesattheend · 1 year ago
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Hi, I love Red Hood, Dimension Travel & Time Travel fics. Here are a 5 I enjoy that aren't immediately showing up if you sort by kudos on A03, basically. Don't forget to look at the tags! A lot of these have dark/angsty themes.
___
The Passing There by Ginevra_Benci
Dimension Travel, incomplete, 15k
Jason Todd awoke one morning from troubled dreams and found himself transformed into a monstrous—
No. God, he wished.
Metamorphosis, he could have handled. An easy fix. Hell, magic insect transformation was practically an everyday occurrence, in Gotham.
Just… not in this Gotham.
***
Jason Todd awakes one morning in a Gotham that “doesn’t like chaos”, and finds his feet.
I love the writing style here, it's updating regularly, and the plot is interesting without being too complicated.
This is the only incomplete fic here btw.
PLUTO. by Orpheusaki
Dimension Travel, complete, 22k
"I kill so others don't have to," Bruce states firmly and clearly. This entire situation didn't seem like it could get any more bizarre, what with Bruce sitting in the dark and polishing guns, but somehow it just has, "While you are here you will not kill."
Jason's throat is scratchy and dry with terror, but the insatiable feeling of being talked over and disregarded is a fresh wound. He can't back down from this if he tried, "I've killed. I still kill. Who the fuck do you think you are to stop me?"
Bruce gently sets down his gun, and picks up the blade beside him with practised ease. Jason's blood runs cold when the man wearing his father's face says, "You will die by my hand if you try."
(Jason meets a version of Bruce who has manifested his fears very differently.)
Honestly if you haven't read any of Orpheusaki's fics you should- immediately. I love fics that explore Bruce killing, and the vibes are so so right here.
This author also has another AMAZING dimension travel fic but it's abandoned I think so I cannot rec it in good conscience, sorry 😭
ghosts by roseworth
Time Travel, complete, 5k
Steph startled as a kid in a bright Robin costume jumped onto the roof in front of them.
A Robin costume she had only seen inside a glass case. A mop of curls she had only seen in pictures.
This was fucking Jason Todd.
Shit.
-
(Robin!Steph and Bruce get sent back in time to when Jason was alive. Everyone has some realizations.)
Chef's kiss, Steph gets to see Jason & learn what he was like. Not super long, but it's great
Sisyphus by EventualToast
Time Travel, complete, 8k
"Jason Todd is, for the second time in his life, sixteen years old, mortally wounded and trapped in a coffin. And this time, he takes in all the details that scream it’s reality. In his memories, he can always see the white of the silk, feel the worms crawling through his skin, even though neither of those things were possible. Now, he’s in sterile darkness. He needs to get out of here."
Or Jason and Essence get stuck in an infinite timeloop.
I love love love fics that use Jason's All Caste backstory & the time travel is wonderful. I've reread this like 5 times ngl
Ad Infinitum; Modified by familiarities (twistsandturns)
Time Travel, complete, 9k
Tim is hunched over his computer, bouncing between a report for B (Batman, not Bruce) and a spreadsheet for B (Bruce, not Batman) when Jason stumbles into the cave. If it weren’t for the fact that Jason had been in a somewhat good mood lately, Tim probably would have been a little more concerned about this fact. Still, it’s weird when, instead of ignoring Tim’s existence like he usually does, Jason walks over to him directly and says, “I'm in a time loop and I don't know why. Fix it."
The outsider pov on a time loop is so well done, and I love seeing Jason change from afar
___
Uhh yeah that's it. I've read a lot more than these, but there are better rec lists to get those. These are just ones that tickle my brain. A lot of these authors are on Tumblr too, so thats neat.
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yvtro · 2 years ago
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Sorry, I'm sure it's come up in the past but I don't know if it's specifically tagged: Could you describe what you dislike about Cheer? I have issues with it too but I always see people say it's bad but never get to see why, so I'm curious if it aligns with my own interpretation.
tldr, it's all about classism and how it sticks to retconning jason's robin days to make him an 'angry robin,' a take on his personality that was never true in his original characterisation (i talk about it a bit here). not only that, the story even adds up to the already exisitng paradigm to make it look like jason didn't even care about being robin. no one has ever went that far before.
so let's talk about these flashbacks.
in general, they just widely fuel the narrative that frames jason as a “wild” child from the streets who is drawn to violence. the fact that alfred has to tell him that “he should be training or else bruce will be displeased” is so massively out of character for everyone involved. then we have jay saying ugh robin. so not badass. why can’t I just be batboy– which i will not even comment on. jason’s love for robin and how diligent he was in practice were one of his most important traits in the original run. and here? they make him treat robin like a joke, disregard the legacy, and even make some crude comments about dick too. he doesn't even seem to understand the concept. on top of that, he is also fascinated with guns, which is once again adding up to the whole rhetoric that he was always doomed for life as a criminal. this all happens within like the first half of the first issue.
now, to the current timeline and the whole storyline, which:
1. is once again based on the concept of the war on drugs (please spare me all the “it’s a supervillain, it’s not the same,” because the reader WILL and is supposed to draw references to jay’s family background,) and, among the others
2. has jason arguing that a petty thief deserves death because he will never stop. jason todd, whose first meeting with batman was stealing his tyres, and who had enough of social awareness as a child to know that being labeled as a criminal for trying to survive is not right. who was also sensitive and compassionate enough to never hold a grudge toward his neglectful parents (the 80s iterations of catherine and willis todd were not outright abusive, the fact that they couldn’t take care of jason was in many ways caused by the circumstances). jason todd, who died trying to save a woman who was as morally corrupt as they come. but apparently none of that matters in that continuity.
enter bruce, the 1% bruce wayne, who has to wealthsplain to jason that poor people deserve a chance to be rehabilitated. bruce wayne explaining that to jason todd who was homeless as a child, and about whom bruce said that he needed to take him off the streets so that he won’t become a criminal. bruce, who obviously is not plainly classist, but who also doesn't have even an ounce of experience with poverty that jason has. okay.
and see, the thing is, i am willing to compromise with the modern take on jason and agree that it would be interesting for him to come close to what he sought out to destroy. it's not the most novel, but i could see jay who detaches himself from his kindness for the sake of survival. this version of events is ugly, it’s sad, it’s a bit questionable, but dramatic irony makes it appealing enough. (and there's still space for character development there, for jason to realise it) but this is not what zdarsky is doing in 'cheer', since jay's robin days are even more bastardised than they have ever been before. he is shown as some hopeless cynical beast of a child rather than an idealist, a tender-hearted kid that he was.
and then there are also the 'death in the family' flashbacks, which perpetuate the concept that jason got killed because he "did not listen." the flashbacks in which jason solemnly informs the reader that he never trusted bruce nor did bruce trust him, and that "neither of them lived up to the idea of the dynamic duo." and that makes me wonder– if jason never trusted bruce, why would he be so shaken by the fact that bruce did not avenge him? in fact, why would he care about batman post resurrection at all, if his life as robin was so awful?
it’s all such an unnatural characterisation of not only him, but also how people who come from such communities are in general. coincidentally I just reblogged this post by @martyrtodd that I think explains it quite well. people from the lower-economic class tend to focus on giving back and form really close ties with each other. for jason to be so dispassionate about it and focus so much on violence even before his death is an obtuse concept.
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wrencatte · 1 year ago
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i just...really like time travel fics of any kind and I hope I can write one eventually.
Gotham’s night is unlike any other. There are stars hidden just beyond the clouds, safe and sequestered away from greedy eyes who don’t understand their lives and deaths and the smoldering, burning fire that eats them up from the inside until they go cold and dark and collapse in on themselves. Or go hotter and hotter into a supernova, consuming everything in their path. There’s a hollowness next to his heart. In his heart. That feels like it could go either way. Explode inside of him and take everything with him. Or collapse into itself and he’ll go cold and dark and rot away. Again.
The roof is cold. The wind is burning. He doesn’t want to move. Just wants to lay here with his aching joints and his aching heart and with tears in his eyes, wondering why am I always too late?
He hears footsteps on the fire escape when he shouldn’t. A body splays out next to him, only just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of them.
“Did it hurt?” Dick asks quietly.
Jason turns his head to look at his brother’s profile. He looks young like this. He’s missing the scar that used to barely peek out from his hairline from where KGBeast shot him. Dick doesn’t look back – like he knows if he does, Jason will spook like a startled cat. He looks back at the clouds. The batsignal turns on and, seconds later, there’s a flash of black descending. Jason only sees it because he knows what to look for.
“Of course, it did,” Jason murmurs, voice rough from disuse. Dick is twenty-two and Jason is twenty-three. There’s only a year’s difference between them now but Jason feels old. He feels like his bones are too big for his skin, stretching and pressing at the edges, ready to tear through like tissue paper.
“He’ll come back?”
Jason sighs. “Of course he will.”
Dick finally looks over. Jason feels his eyes boring into the side of his face, but he can’t bear to meet them. He’s not Nightwing right now. Somehow that hurts worse.
Movement, out of the corner out of his eye. Jason very carefully does not flinch or twitch or run away like every nerve in his body is telling him to. Dick brushes his fingertips on Jason’s shoulder, a hot brand through the thin material of his sweater. When Jason doesn’t run, his touch drifts to Jason’s face. He pokes Jason in the cheek like he’d taken to doing before his death, when they started acting like brothers.
“Will you stay?” Dick asks so, so softly Jason can almost pretend it was the wind.
Only almost, though.
Jason laboriously stands, brushes off his pants and back the best he can. Dick sits up, but he doesn’t join him, staring at him imploringly with that stupid look that makes people want to bend to his every request.
He hesitates. It would be easy to say yes now. But then it would be so hard to actually live it. Not now. Not with his death fresh in Bruce’s mind. Not with Damian and Cass still out there. Not with Black Mask alive. Not with Tim ready in the shadows to do one of the things only Tim Drake can do.
(He doesn’t want to. He wants to go to the kid – and he really is a kid this time – and shake him. Scare him off from the damn role. But there’s no point. Nothing would ever chase Tim from what he thought needed to be done and…he’s right. Batman needs a Robin. Jason isn’t Robin. Dick can’t be Robin again. Spoiler was too defining for Stephanie for her to disregard it altogether.
So, yeah, Tim needs to be Robin. But Jason doesn’t think he can stomach watching that happen even though he knows why and how and – )
Jason squeezes his eyes shut.
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nabtime · 1 year ago
Text
Our Empty Graves V
Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood
Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)
Rating: Mature
Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone
Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.
Jason just wants to help him.
Chapter 5: they call me devil (and you should be afraid)
Chapter Summary: Red Hood keeps running into Fetcher, who disappears on him each time, until he decides to take the matter into his own hands and hunts the other down.
Chapter Notes: title from Call Me Devil by Friends in Tokyo Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 6 // Spotify
There was a part of Jason that knew he wouldn’t find Fetcher in the safe house when he returned, but there was another (stupider) part of himself that had hoped to find the sassy little shit where he’d left him. He knew the first time had been a miracle and probably owing to the fact that Fetcher had been exhausted and recovering. He really hoped the kid had healed fully before he left. It looked like he already had a pretty fast healing rate, but Jason still worried. Like an idiot, really.
He wondered where Fetcher went. Jason didn’t believe for one second the kid actually had a place to go. But then again he literally glowed green and walked around in a Hazmat suit, which meant he was kind of hard to miss. So he had to have a place to go, to hide. Because Jason sure as shit hadn’t seen him since he left. And no, he had not looked. Well, maybe he looked a little. But it didn’t matter because he hadn’t found the fucker anywhere. There and gone again in a single night.
Jason should not be as preoccupied about it as he was. He had plans. He needed to focus. Didn’t matter that he’d felt almost calm for the first time since he resurrected around the kid (four long, long years of mindlessness and anger and a sort of helplessness and despair he hated). Fetcher was gone now and all he could do was sink back into his rage and learn to swim willingly within the haze all over again. He’d done it before and he’d do it again. Rage was useful. Anger was something he could mold and carve to his satisfaction. He would use it as a tool to strike down those that needed striking and avenge those that needed vengeance. Himself for one.
Tall, Dark, and Emotionally Repressed wouldn’t know what hit him. The Batman had failed him. Bruce had proven that while he may have loved Jason, he hadn’t loved him enough. And wasn’t that just the story of his life? Jason had never been enough. Would never be enough. Always second-rate. A good Robin, sure, but not near enough to live up to the first one. To Dick’s spark and skill and flamboyance. Dickie had set the standard for what a Robin should be and Jason had never been able to live up to it. His Replacement got closer than he ever could and it stung. Too arrogant, too forceful, too angry, too reckless. Too much, yet never enough. Jason was loved but it always came with conditions. Jason was mourned but his death had still not been enough to put a stop to the Joker. Just another page in his story instead of the catalyst to his end. He hadn’t cared that Bruce was too late to save him, he’d cared that Bruce had still not considered his death enough to put a permanent end to Joker’s murder sprees.
It pissed him off.
If the Batman, so-called protector of Gotham city, wouldn’t put an end to the festering blight on humanity at large that was the Clown Prince of Crime, then someone else would. Jason was not afraid to bloody his own hands if it meant more innocents could live. If it meant that people like Jason had been wouldn’t have to die anymore. Die broken and bleeding and scared. Thinking that Batman would save you, would pull you out of the wreckage and make sure everything was alright. Thinking that Batman would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you lived. Thinking that Batman would do anything to avenge you if you didn’t. He would not let anyone else live that lie. Die with that lie.
Because that’s all it was. A lie.
If Jason, a child he had brought in and personally trained, was not enough, then there weren’t many others that were. How many people would finally be too many? How many lives would end before the Joker’s? His hadn’t been worthy enough to count as the sacrificial lamb to end it all. Though, he supposed, he hadn’t been worth much anyway. Bruce could bluster all he wanted, pretend to be angry that someone had trespassed on Jason’s grave. But the fact of the matter was that nowhere on that headstone had he been given the name Wayne. Unclaimed and unwanted and unavenged. He wondered, sometimes, if it had been Dick that had died instead of him, if that would have been Bruce’s breaking point. But Dickie had never been stupid enough to get himself killed.
Not like reckless, angry, arrogant, Jason.
But, now, now he had a plan and he would put those traits to use.
He would continue to take over the Alley. Expand his territory and take over all trade from Black Mask and any other Kingpin trying to rule the underground. He would control the drugs, the arms, and any other goods. He would destroy what he couldn’t control and control what he couldn’t destroy. Drugs would sell no matter what he did, so he would make sure they were pure and out of the hands of minors. He would provide refuge for the weak and weary, clean spaces and warm places. He would do what Batman could not and rid the city of its more heinous strains of crime. And he would be as ruthless about it as he needed to be. He would not hold back because of some old moral code, not if it meant doing what needed to be done. He would not be so selfish as to put his conscious above the lives and well-being of others.
He would show the Bat what the city could become before he put Bruce’s morals to the test. Before he found out what Batman’s breaking point really was.
═════ ◈ ═════
Six months he’d been running everything. Killing off rival gang members, making sure everyone knew the rules and the consequences for not following them. Pissing off Black Mask and eating more and more of his territory, claiming the Alley for himself. Teasing Batman and dodging his attempts at a take-down. He wasn’t ready to give up the ghost just yet, Brucie needed more patience than that.
It was just another run-of-the-mill patrol of the area. Checking in with his lieutenants, keeping them in line and making sure no one was breaking the golden rule. Checking in on the Corner Workers, making sure they had everything they needed and that no one was trying to rough them up. Checking in on the camps, making sure everyone had food and water and shelter and anything else they needed. Keeping the pigs away from all of them.
So, imagine his surprise when he finds trouble. No, not that he just finds trouble, that was expected and the reason for the patrol in the first place, but that he finds trouble and Fetcher was in the middle of it. Trying to stop it? From the looks of it?
Taking in the scene, there were three figures. Fetcher, some guy in a black jacket and ski-mask (like you couldn’t get anymore cartoonishly criminal), and a girl all done up in high-heels and a short leather dress. Nadi if he had to take a guess. Looked like some bozo had been trying to mug one of the Ladies of the Night. Had been because Fetcher had the guy in a headlock and was- Giving the guy a noogie? The girl in question seemed to just be watching, hands on her hips and grinning, make-up and hair without a single smudge or ruffle. Fetcher must have intervened before Bozo could get very far then.
Jason joined her in watching the show. Bozo tried to pull a knife and Fetcher just kept one arm around his head and used the other to snatch it away without effort. Then he density-shifted it into his suit and gave the guy a finger wag. Like some naughty kid.
“That’s the third knife he’s done that with,” Nadi said, sounding on the brink of hysterical laughter.
Nadi, from what he had learned of the sex workers under his protection, was always one to deflect with humor when things went south. Served her well in this instance because it kept her calm and able to enjoy the show. She wasn’t new to the block either so this probably wasn’t the first time she’d had a knife pulled on her. Probably the first time a walking radiation hazard saved her though. Or, knowing Gotham, maybe not.
“He hurt you at all?” he asked her, just to make sure.
“Nah,” she said turning to him with a smile that didn’t falter at the sight of his helmet.
He was trying his best to keep his reputation good with the ones under his protection, so he was happy to see her without fear around him. The ones who should fear him were the ones that broke the rules, not the ones he made the rules to protect.
“Little man in the funky suit,” she said, pointing to Fetcher with an impeccably sharp nail, “jumped in the second I started yelling at that asshole.”
“Good,” Jason replied. “How long has this been going on?”
“Mm,” she started, brown eyes looking up in thought, “about ten minutes, I think. Glow-boy’s been keeping him down for a while.” Her eyes gleamed. “I just wanna see how many knives is gonna get involved.”
Fetcher had been keeping that man in a headlock for ten goddamn minutes. Amazing.
“Oi, Fetch,” he called, watching as the vicious little nightlight jumped at his voice and dropped the guy, who flopped to the ground, boneless, with a groan. “What are you-”
Jason watched, stunned, as Fetcher held his hands up in surrender and then disappeared. Just fucking vanished into thin air. He switched his helmet to night vision, heat vision, anything and everything. No readings. Nada. Nothing. What the fuck.
“Aw,” Nadi whined, disappointed, “you scared ‘im off.”
“I did not!” he protested. Because really, he hadn’t meant to spook him. He was just glad to see the kid up and about and apparently well enough to take on random muggers. At least Batman hadn’t gotten to him, from the looks of things.
“Big bad Red Hood,” she sang, “scaring off my savior!”
He sighed. At least someone was having a good time.
Bozo groaned, face still planted in ground of the dirty back alley. Oh, right. Assholes to punish. He moseyed over, making sure each boot thunked heavily against the asphalt. He watched Bozo grow tenser with every step he got closer.
“Talk,” he commanded. Fetcher wanted to play good cop (silly cop? ridiculous cop?) to Jason’s bad cop, so be it. He had a reputation. He could be a bit playful with the girls or soft with the kids, but trouble-makers got no mercy.
“I-I didn’t do nothin-,” Bozo started, stammering and struggling to move up onto his hands and knees.
Red Hood took care of that with a swift kick to the ribs.
“Try again.”
He wouldn’t stand for someone trying to shift the blame. Trying to get out of the consequences of their actions.
Bozo groaned and curled up on his side. Jason had no sympathy.
“Fine, fine,” Bozo said, face still one with the concrete. “Know the girls always carry a lotta cash from workin’. Figured it would be an easy grab. Wasn’t plannin’ on hurtin’ her.”
Nadi scoffed. “I worked hard for my money, asshole.” She loomed over him, hands on her hips, and Jason let her. “You thought you could just grab it off me?” She pressed a threatening heel against the guy’s bruised ribs. “I’da fought you off myself if little cujo hadn’t tackled you.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Bozo said miserably. “Just throw me to the cops already.”
Jason tsked. “No pigs in the Alley.” He paused, thinking it over for a moment. Guy looked young and scruffy. Desperate for money by the sounds of it, if he was willing to go for someone in Jason’s territory. Knew to keep more than one knife on him, so stupid- but with some street smarts. He could work with that. “You’re working for the girls now, as penance.”
“What?!” Bozo and Nadi shrieked at the same time.
Jason held up his hand for silence. He pointed at Bozo first. “Room and board and something better to do than trawl the streets for blood money.” Then pointed at Nadi, “Extra set of hands to do whatever you want.”
Nadi’s eyes gleamed again at that. “Whatever I want?”
Smart girl.
Bozo collapsed back down with another pitiful groan. Served him right. Jason crouched next to him, making sure he had the guy’s attention and letting a little murderous-intent bleed into his voice.
“Pull this shit again and there won’t be another second chance.”
He bared down on him, making sure it got through that thick skull just what would happen if he crossed the line again. He was lucky he’d gotten away without any maiming this time. Next time, Hood would have his head.
Bozo nodded, face pale and clammy. Jason stood up, satisfied, before turning to Nadi again.
“He tries to pull anything, let me or any of my crew know.”
And with that he grappled off, climbing back to the rooftops and running his route with a distracted air. Looking for a neon green glow he knew he wouldn’t find.
═════ ◈ ═════
The second time Jason caught sight of Fetcher out and about, it was a much bloodier encounter.
Some of Black Mask’s men had ambushed him mid-patrol, thinking they could catch him by surprise and bring him in to their increasingly irate boss. Too bad for them that Jason wasn’t a man so easily caught off guard. If there was one thing that Bats taught all the Robins that served them well- it was paranoia. If you think they’re always out to get you, you’ll be prepared for the many times they actually are.
Five against one, but Jason was packing all five of the Bennett sisters tonight and he had more tricks up his sleeves besides.
One shot to the jugular. One pistol whip to the face. One kick in the ribs and two shots to the kneecaps. Two men trying to grab at his arms at the same time, missing, and getting swept off their feet by one of Jason’s own.
One guy got an arm around his neck in the aftermath, pulling tight, and one of the two he’d knocked over popped back up and wrestled Lizzie out of his grip. Two were completely out of commission but that still left three stubborn bastards. The third one got in a shot to his thigh while he was throwing off the others.
He hissed, the bullet was unable to pierce his armor but still left a nasty bruise.
He pulled Mary out of her holster and took a rapid shot at that third guy’s hand, taking out his gun and leaving him out of the game for the rest of the fight- screaming and trying to staunch the blood pouring from his missing finger.
The other two had backed off, noticing that their odds were dwindling fast.
One guy pulled a knife, the blade glinting strangely in the light of the street lamp. Looked like it was coated in something. A paralytic, a poison? No matter what, it wasn’t likely to pierce his jacket or his armor. And the guy should know better than to bring a knife to a gun fight.
He took the shot but the guy dodged.
Idiot number two pulled a gun himself and fired off, three shots, all going large. One to the brick behind him, one to the pavement, and one to the dark of the night beyond them.
Idiot number one, being faster than Jason anticipated, made a lunge toward him and his knife skimmed the sleeve of his jacket on the left side, cutting a long and jagged stripe before just barely nicking his wrist where his jacket ended before his gloves.
His hand went numb. Fuck.
Whatever was on that knife, which shouldn’t be able to cut through his jacket, was potent. The edges of his jacket where it’d been split open began to sizzle. Double fuck. That one was his favorite.
He swung around and shot at idiot number one, being careful to dodge around the bullets being fired by idiot number two.
The tingling sensation of numbness was starting to crawl up his arm.
Idiot number one fell to a bullet in the shoulder, poison knife clattering to the ground while the guy screamed. Idiot number two was starting to look antsy, realizing he was the last man standing. Jason may be down an arm but he wasn’t about to let the guy go running. He shot- but the guy was squirrelly and dodged so that it only grazed his shoulder.
The numbness was reaching his chest. Would the paralytic kill him? Stop his heart? Or just leave him trapped? Either way he needed to end this, now. It’d already gone on too long. If he hadn’t been so fucking distracted… He hadn’t seen Fetcher in a week and a half now…
And then, well, think of the devil and he shall appear.
Last idiot standing was being held in a choke-hold by the glowing green halfling in question, which was a little funny from how short the kid was. Fetcher held him there until he passed out before dropping him and running towards Red Hood.
“Long time no see, Jellyfish,” he said, trying for a casual tone as his left leg started going out on him.
The kid gave him a flat stare before standing underneath him and swinging Jason’s left arm over his shoulder.
Fetcher was- cold to the touch. Like he’d been standing in a snowstorm and the chill had permanently sunk into his very being. He felt like static shock, like pinpricks of electricity were swirling around under the latex-like material of the suit. He felt completely unnatural and yet somehow familiar. Jason wondered, not for the first time, just what, exactly, a Fetch was.
Jason pointed to the dropped knife, sitting so innocently on the dirty pavement. “Gonna need that. Doc Thompkins’ll need to know what got me.”
Fetcher bobbed his head in a nod and scooped the knife up, being careful of the blade before shifting it into his suit like he had all those others.
“How many knives you even got in there?” Jason asked, trying to distract himself from the numbing sensation crawling further through his chest. His lungs were starting to stutter.
Fetcher held his free hand up in a gesture reminiscent of a shrug that didn’t move his occupied shoulder. So he didn’t know. That wasn’t concerning at all. The little glow-worm got them to the mouth of the alley before motioning to the street before them. Asking for directions.
Jason jabbed the thumb he could still move towards the left. Man he hoped Leslie would help him.
It was only after Leslie reluctantly let him go and he exited the clinic that he noticed Fetcher had disappeared again.
═════ ◈ ═════
Twice was a coincidence, three times was a pattern.
This time it was in the rain, heavy downpour obscuring everything in sight and the occasional flash of lightning spearing the dark in a thunderous roar.
Bruce had caught him on one of his runs.
They were on the edge of the roof, his boots slipping just the slightest against the slick concrete that bordered the ten story drop as Batman gripped the shirt that covered his chest armor in his fists, holding him up and being the only thing between him and the pavement below. One hand of Jason’s scrabbled against the slick armor on Batman’s arm and the other held a gun against the man’s head.
Red Hood laughed, bordering hysterical, the sound crackling and grating through the filter on his helmet. “Let me go, Batman,” he demanded, gun digging against the mask over Bruce’s temple.
“Who are you?” Batman growled, agony underpinning his words and it flooded Jason with a righteous glee that made him ache. Oh, Brucie, Brucie, Brucie he thought. You’re so close to figuring it out but you’re still not sure.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said, trying not to cackle. The sweet, sweet fury painting his father’s ex-mentor’s face was delicious. He might not be ready to lead Batman to his pièce de résistance but he could still enjoy teasing in the meantime.
“Tell me,” Batman demanded, shaking Red Hood within his grasp, making Jason’s boots slide ever further toward the edge.
“Or what,” he snarled, “you’ll kill me?”
He nudged his gun to an angle beside Batman’s head and shot, the bullet flying into the air but the blast and the noise pushing Bruce away and startling his grip loose. Jason used the momentum to push up and arch in the air, feeling the rain and the wind against him as he flew. He flipped and felt the beautiful, intoxicating rush that came with free falling. Distantly he could hear Batman yelling, but all he wanted to concentrate on was feeling the pull of gravity before he landed.
He pulled out his grapple and aimed. It slipped and he cursed. The building was too short to sustain his fall for long and he didn’t have time for another grapple to hook and swing. He was meeting the pavement fast. Too fast. He wasn’t usually this sloppy. His landing would be messy and painful, but if he moved right, he’d live.
Cold hands caught him a single story from the ground and slowly lowered him down until his boots hit sidewalk. The glow around them told him he knew who his savior was.
When he was released he turned. The hands that had caught him were gone, and so was the rest of Fetcher. He tsked in annoyance. He’d need to hunt the kid down at this rate.
He looked up to see if Batman was still there. But if he was, he couldn’t see anything through the rain.
═════ ◈ ═════
Of course he was living in a graveyard. Because why not, right?
It was one of the last places Jason tried searching. Ever since Fetcher had risked Batman’s wrath again by catching him a few days ago, he’d doubled his determination to find him. He shouldn’t let himself get so distracted from his main goal, but keeping Fetcher within his sights and making sure the kid was safe was now part his master plan, apparently.
He could see a faint glow up in the branches of the single hickory tree planted in the cemetery Fetcher had originally been chased from. The one Jason was buried in. He tried not to have any particular feelings about that. He watched as the green shell of a hickory nut fell from the branches and bounced on the ground. Well, at least the kid was eating.
“Hey,” he called, watching the branches shake when Fetcher startled. “Get your radioactive ass down here.”
He backed up and watched in fascination as the other man swung down from a branch like a monkey before he dropped like a stone. If the forty foot drop did anything to his ankles when he landed directly on his feet, he didn’t let it show. What the fuck was this guy?
Fetcher walked closer, posture cautious but casual. Like there was at least some modicum of trust but he still knew to be wary. He tilted his head to the side, a question.
“How many crimes have you interfered with on my turf?” he asked, crossing his arms. He was genuinely curious though. He’d gotten reports from his lieutenants that mister nightlight had been spotted multiple times preventing a mugging or defending a Corner Girl. A little vigilante in the making, all he needed was the blue eyes and black hair and he’d be perfect Wayne Bait.
Fetcher scuffed his shoe against the grass and hid his hands behind his back before shrugging, trying to act innocent. Little shit.
“Listen,” he said, “if you’re gonna play vigilante here, it’s gonna be on my orders.”
Fetcher raised his head and tilted it to the side again. Another question. He sighed.
He walked closer, steps slow and careful so Fetch wouldn’t disappear on him. He didn’t want to spook the guy. “No more living in trees and popping in and out of nowhere,” he said firmly, close enough to see his curious glowing green eyes. “If you’re gonna work in my territory, then you’re gonna be on my payroll.”
The green glow narrowed and Fetcher crossed his arms. Defiant. Defensive.
Jason scoffed. “If you mess with things you don’t know about you’re going to get hurt. Or get someone else hurt.”
The arms dropped but stayed crossed, his head tilted to the side. Accepting but still questioning.
“I’m not going to stop you from saving people,” he said, “since that seems to be something you want to do.”
“But,” he lifted a finger, “you gotta listen to me. And you’re going to live in an actual goddamn house, you heathen. And eat actual food. I don’t care if you’re not human, no man under my protection is living like a monkey unless they are one.”
He paused. “You aren’t some type of monkey, are you?”
Fetcher seemed to double over. Shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Probably a no then. But, yeah, sure, laugh at him for not knowing what the fuck a Fetch was and trying not to make any assumptions.
“Alright, alright,” he grumbled as the other seemed to finally gather himself together. “You coming or not? I’m setting you up in a safe-house and then putting a fucking bell on you so I know where you are.”
He wiped a tear that wasn’t actually there from his tinted mask and mimed catching his breath before nodding and gesturing for Jason to lead the way. Then he paused and tilted his head. He lifted his arms and made a little paw motion beside his head and moved his head back and forth. Jason could almost see green ears and tail appear.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
Fetcher leaned forward, arms out in some sort of questioning shrug. Why not? he seemed to say, with some mocking edge. Little shit knew what he was doing.
God, Jason really hoped he wouldn’t regret this.
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brucewaynehater101 · 7 months ago
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thoughts on/hcs for steph?
There's this one post (not mine) that kind of explores my thoughts on Steph. I think it's a downright shame that her character gets simplified to liking purple, waffles, and being a blonde girl. She is extremely badass. There are so many hobbies and abilities she does that just don't get talked about (her gymnastics, piano, etc.).
Taking her physical capabilities aside, how the fuck did she manage to be strong enough (willpower and emotionally) to deal with everything she did?
Tim is my favorite Robin due to the entire tragedy that is his Robin. Unlike the ones before and Damian, he had less support and care at the start of his Robin.
Steph, though? Absolutely no support from Bruce when she started being a vigilante. Her time as Robin was hell. She was constantly belittled and disregarded (before, during, and after she became Robin). She kind of reminds me of Barbara in that way (being disregarded by Bruce and establishing herself independently because of it).
Steph is strong as fuck to overcome everything she did. Even putting Black Mask and her dying aside, her becoming a vigilante to stop her father without support is amazing. She was constantly told to quit or met the resistance of a Bat for her efforts. She kept going in spite of that. I admire her resilience.
I have been sitting on the idea of her and Tim's relationship. To me, I think they are horrible for each other romantically. They are too toxic and butt heads too much for a romantic relationship.
Platonically, though? They are each other's soul mate. I love the idea that they know each other and are there for each other on another level. It would be similar to Tim's relationship with YJ, but still more. Those two tried a romantic relationship because they meant so much to each other, but they learned they navigated better without those aspects.
In ways, she reminds me of Dick and Jason combined. They both put up fronts (Dick's is sunshine and Jason's is a tough guy act) to bury their hurt and weaknesses. Steph teters between being peppy and being willing to deck you. That hides the complexity of how much she cares for people, how hurt she can be by others' actions, how intelligent she actually is, and her tendency to put others first.
She'll look out for herself, especially because no one else did, but she also cares too much about others to not help them.
Alright, as far as hc for Steph, I like the idea that she can navigate public opinion almost as well as Bruce and Tim. If she truly truly wanted to put in the effort, she could schmooze like the best of them. She combines Selina and Tim's approach to weasel whatever she wants out of her target. In fact, Tim loves watching her fool some unfortunate person as Steph turns them around.
She doesn't do this often because of the effort, money, and overall unpleasantness of the company required to do it.
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qcomicsy · 2 years ago
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I find really weird when people are all upset about the Batfamily as if is this new thing and not an almost 70 year of history. There's literally a comic storyline from the 40's where Batman fight with the child protective services to keep Dicks guard, not only fighting but literally saying and I quote "he's like a son to me".
There's instances since the 80's where Nightwing addressed Bruce as his dad several times and talk how he was raised by him and how he loves Bruce and Bruce loves him (even thought he doesn't say it). There's multiple panels of Batman telling stories to Jason and Dick to sleep, taking them to school, showing up to their PTA reunions, checking on their homework (in this case also for Tim). Even panels (shortly after Jason's death) where Dick was fumbling about Bruce's unhealthy way of grieving and how could he take all of the pictures of his son, Dicks brother. Bruce also back in the late 80's early 90's literally got empty nest syndrome when Dick went to college.
Again we're not talking about some comic run that got out a couple of years ago, we're talking about if being lightly almost 50 years of consistent history. Characters constantly referring to eachother as family and acting as such.
If there's anything new is this sort of disregard and animosity towards robin and any idea of compassion in the Batfamily, or batman himself and the batfamily system, a thing that was a core part of Batman's comic's and Batman's character since the beginning.
Batman was never alone.
Batfamily is not the new fandom thing that it's ruining it's characters. It was always here. It was part of the beginning of DC comics and it helped to stabilize many beloved things we have in the DC cannon today (DC finest. Teen Titans. Titans. Young Justice. Sidekicks in general. Teenage heros. Teenage teams. Harley Quinn's introduction. Joker's stabilized place as one of the most terrifying Batman's rogue and so so much more.).
Maybe, it's not that DC is getting to fandominish, or too "avengers fanfic 2012" maybe you just enjoy a very specific phase/aspect of the DC cannon and kinda blind yourself to another very very real one.
also. I bring the receipts:
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cdelphiki · 5 years ago
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Bruce woke to the sound of a page turning. The harsh scrape of paper against cloth as whoever the culprit was didn’t lift the book high enough to avoid his own shirt grating against the headache currently occupying most of Bruce’s attention. 
His pillow was the next thing he noticed. Never had he felt a pillow so hard. Was it made of concrete? He was fairly certain it was. The bed under his body was softer than the pillow. It was not helping the headache at all.
Why’d his head even hurt? He’d never had a headache like this before. It felt like someone had hit him with a baseball bat. 
And… oh. 
Last night.
 That was what had happened.
Scraping from his left started again, so he dared to crack and eye open and see what was creating the noise. Was Dick home? Alfred would never be so noisy while reading. 
The light was excruciating. Even though he could tell the lamps were dimmed to the lowest setting. And his vision took a good several seconds to clear enough for him to see, but eventually he made out the figure of Jason. His precious Jason. Engrossed in a book, sitting right next to him in bed. 
That was good. 
Odd, for some reason. But good. He loved Jason. It was nice he was hanging out in Bruce’s room.
Was that what was so odd? Jason had been with him for months now. Six? No, eight. Eight months. And he’d never been in Bruce’s room. Bruce had no idea how to fully gain his trust. Or if he’d ever be able to. Jason was such a skittish kid. That was okay. Bruce would go at Jason’s pace. Jason deserved caretakers who loved and respected him and his boundaries. 
He just wished Jason could trust that Bruce would never hurt him. He’d loved him pretty much from the moment he first saw him. He could never hurt his own son.
“Hey old man,” Jason said, his voice a gentle murmur. It still caused a spike of pain, almost as bad as the lights had, but the pain was worth the warmth in his chest. “I heard you pulled a muscle trying to stand up.”
Why would….? Oh. Because he was ‘old.’ He was only 30, for God’s sake. Why did his kids think he was old?
“Something like that,” he mumbled, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Jason was so cute. A cracked skull was just like pulling a muscle. Exactly the same. Just came along with Superman panicky arriving on scene and Bruce blacking out before Clark could say “I’ve got you.” 
Thank God for Clark. Not that he’d ever tell the man that. It’s a little insulting he’s been listening in more since Dick left. Bruce really doesn’t need a babysitter. Or a partner. He’s fine out there on his own.
Except when he’s not. But it wasn’t his fault some goon snuck up behind him and hit him with a bat. Really, he was occupied with the four in front of him. 
But Bruce couldn’t deny it was good Clark was there. Because had he not been, the bat that cracked his skull likely would have killed him. He couldn’t get killed. Jason needed him. 
“Do you know what year it is?” Jason asked, and Bruce smiled fully.
“We already know I have a concussion. No need to do a check.” 
“Pfft,” Jason said, and Bruce could hear how he’d blown a puff of air into his bangs. That was such a cute habit of his. Bruce kind of hoped he never cut his hair shorter so he’d never stop. “Fine. Just wanted to make sure you knew where you were n’stuff.”
Bruce opened his eyes again and looked over at Jason. He’d set his book down, and was now hugging onto his knees, his head resting in his arms as he stared at Bruce. “Hi, Jason,” he said, hoping to reassure his son that he did, in fact, know where he was and what was happening. 
“Hey,” Jason exhaled, and Bruce could see the tension bleed right out of his shoulders and he slumped down a little more. 
“You’re in here by yourself?” he asked, remembering why this was all weird. Jason never had a problem being alone with Bruce, but never this close. Never this intimately. And never in his bedroom. 
“Yeah, what of it? Want me to leave?” 
Bruce had shut his eyes again, so he could only hear the way Jason closed back up again. Like he thought Bruce didn’t want him around. 
How could Bruce not want Jason around? Jason was great. Didn’t he know that?
“No,” he nearly hummed, shifting his head and immediately regretting it. The concrete beneath his head did not give way, and the entirety of his skull felt like it was on fire for a brief second. One the pain subsided, he added, “You just never come in here. I thought you didn’t trust me.”
Jason was quiet for a bit after that. So long, in fact, Bruce would have assumed he left. But he could hear Jason’s breathing, still, and knew he was still sitting right next to him. Hugging his knees and everything. He almost turned to look at Jason again, but he finally spoke up.
“Well I do.”
And there was the warmth again. So much of it. He wanted to cry, from the intensity of it, actually. But that would likely make his head worse. Crying always make his head hurt, just naturally. He didn’t want to fell what it was like to have a migraine and crying headache at the same time. 
“I love you, Jay,” he mumbled, instead, “You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Jason whispered, the slight rasp to his voice grating on Bruce’s ears. If he thought he could move much, he would have dragged Jason to his side for that rasp. But the thought of moving even his arm made his head hurt more. 
“Good,” he said, relaxing a little. Because at least Jason knew. “So much.” 
“You must be feeling pretty bad,” Jason said, shifting around enough that the bed springs squeaked. 
Once Bruce’s world stopped spinning, he grunted. Because he felt like shit, and there was no use in lying to Jay. He’d see right through him.
“You really need backup out there, B,” Jason said, and this was definitely not a conversation he was up for having. He and Jason had argued so many times now over whether Jason could go out. Bruce didn’t have the energy for that. He almost never had the energy for it.
“Can we talk about that later? My head hurts a little.” 
Jason laughed, mostly under his breath, before he said, “No shit. Does me talking make it worse?”
“No,” he lied. It made it a lot worse. But Jason not talking made his heart hurt. 
“You’re lying.”
“Mm,” Bruce hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. But he did add, “I like hearing your voice.” 
“You’re still lying,” Jason said, but now Bruce could hear the smile. If he opened his eyes, he’d probably see bright red cheeks, too. 
“I do. It reminds me that you’re here. I’m so happy you’re here,” he said, feeling himself get choked up again. He took a deep breath, to center himself, then finished, “Sometimes I wonder where you’d be if you weren’t here and I can’t bear it. I love you so much. I can’t imagine life without you.” 
“Man, you really are messed up in the head,” Jason said, but again, Bruce could hear the smile. 
He wished he had the energy to sit up and hug Jason. That was something Jason could always use more of. Bruce was pretty sure his dad had never hugged him. Not much, at least. Kids needed hugs. 
And, yeah. He could see the ‘messed up in the head.’ Concussions had always made him a little on the emotional side. Usually it’s Dick or Alfred dealing with them. This would be Jason’s first. “It’s still true.” 
Jason was quiet after that. For so long, in fact, Bruce started to nod off. Not that it would take much to do so. He estimated he only had a few more minutes of consciousness, anyway. 
But he startled, a little, when Jason started moving again, and stilled when his left arm was lifted into the air. Jason slipped under the arm and rested back against Bruce’s side, effectively using his side as a pillow, then settled Bruce’s arm back down around him. 
Bruce tightened his arm around Jason’s chest a little, hopefully conveying everything his words could not. 
“Does this hurt?” Jason asked, tugging a blanket over himself it felt like. It covered Bruce’s arm, too, which was nice. His hand had been getting cold. 
“No.” It was the opposite of hurt. The moving jarred his head a little, but he’d live. Having Jason in his arm was going to help him sleep so deeply, he just knew it. 
He’d always gotten the best sleep on the nights Dick came to him for comfort after nightmares. Something about having a child—his child—in his arms just made everything else in the world melt away. No fear or anxieties or worries to keep him up. Just him and his precious son. 
Now he had two sons. Maybe sometime soon he’d have both of them at the same time. That… that would make him very happy. 
“Go to sleep, old man,” Jason murmured, as he opened his book again. He rested his arms over Bruce’s, and Bruce could hear the pages scrape against the blanket draped over them. “Doctor Alfred says you need to rest for a few days. Can’t have you getting stupider from this.” 
“Did he say that?” Bruce asked, but his voice was far too amused. Totally missed the faux hurt he had been going for. 
“He did. In those exact words.” 
“Hmm. You’re a brat, you know?”
“I know,” Jason said, and all Bruce wanted to do was give him a kiss on the forehead. But sitting up would ruin this position they held. He’d much rather get to hold Jason for a while. Even if the boy would probably leave long before Bruce woke again, at least he’d have these few minutes. 
He settled for squeezing him a little tighter again, then relaxed to the cadence of Jason’s page turning. The blanket didn’t scrape nearly as bad as Jason’s shirt had, after all. Plus, the warm weight of his son pressing against his side was very grounding. A good something to focus on, to help tune out the blaring that was his head. 
And just as he was drifting off to sleep, the soundless void that was unconsciousness lulling him toward it, he just heard Jason say, “I love you, too.” 
Bruce was a little happy he’d got hit in the head. 
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