#rumor ends up also reaching todd

[fanfictionroxs]

Going to start telling people that this is the plot of Not Me 😈

[demonic0angel]

God!Danny and Servant!Damian

Damian stared at the long hallway of various knickknacks and doohickeys. The ever-changing wallpaper was cracked and peeling, sticky with a green substance. Bizarrely shaped and decorated doors would occasionally peek out from the mountains of loot. The tables that lined the hallway were filled with books and books and many random objects. The hallway was illuminated with a combination of different things, candles and chandeliers and crackling TVs and lightbulbs lighting up the way. At the very end of the long hallway was a lone door, unmarked and conspicuous in its simplicity.

Once he walked through that door, he would be able to complete his wish.

Something to his side caught his eye. It was a small picture of a family, one with many unique characters.

It reminded Damian of his own.

It reminded him of his failures, his goals, and his desires.

Wiping away the liquid that welled in his eyes, he turned and glared at the door that seemed more and more like the light in the darkness as well as his own personal demise.

Damian grit his teeth and began to run.

————

It all started simply. It was an average day, a normal afternoon as Damian bickered with his siblings as always. He and Timothy were rubbing on each other's nerves, only instigated further by Jason who would gleefully laugh every now and then whenever he sparked the dying fire.

Dick sighed and said, "C'mon you two. Why can't you just get along?"

"It's  because Damian knows that Tim is better than him at detective work." Jason said.

"Shut up, Todd!" Damian said as Timothy made a strange expression of both smugness and also exasperation. Despite knowing that Jason was deliberately goading them on, they still fell for it and walked right into another heated argument.

Dick only sighed further as his little siblings argued like children. The door to the command room opened with Batman sweeping in, Stephanie following him with a little skip to her step.

"Heya, everyone!" She greeted cheerfully while Batman flew past them to inspect the controls.

All of them were in a spaceship commandeered by the batfamily in a mission to inspect a small alien planet that had recently pinged itself on their radar. It was a dangerous new colony that had an ability to steal the memories of those that they had killed and use it to conquer new planets.

The batclan was currently in a mission to investigate if the rumors were true and to find any weaknesses.

"Father?" Damian asked, as he noticed Batman's tense body language. "What is the matter?"

".... Orphan hasn't come back from her stealth mission."

A ripple of dread went through the room. Timothy immediately sat down on a seat and began to pull up mission records. They updated it regularly as they went, and Cassandra had logged in for her mission a few days ago, but now she was several hours past her expected return. This was a bad sign, especially since it was only a reconnaissance mission, with little to no conflict and even if there was, Cassandra would've contacted them.

Something had gone very, very wrong.

Stephanie whispered, "No... she couldn't have been."

Jason gave a snort, although it was weak and filled with false bravado. "There's no way. She's probably trying to find some new information for us. She's stronger than that."

No one said anything.

His attempt at gathering hope failed.

"... fuck." Jason said quietly, as the worst of what could've happened finally sank its claws into his mind.

Everyone was aware that this current mission was one with high stakes. The alien race they were investigating was a dangerous one, and unknown at that. Although they expected danger, they hadn’t expected one of their own to actually get hurt.

Batman shook his head, a hand reaching out to clasp Jason's shoulder. "We'll find her and then we'll help her." He reassured him softly. It said a lot that Jason didn't shake off his touch.

A stone sank in Damian's stomach.

This was his first mission in outer space and he loathed how vulnerable he felt. In an effort to hide it, Damian scoffed to himself and straightened.

They all lifted their heads in unison, however, when a crash rang through the ship. Their gut instincts had alerted them to the danger a second beforehand, but it was still too late.

The light flickered off, inciting another gasp of panic. They all put on their masks to switch on their night vision.

Batman immediately pulled out several batarangs and said, "Dick, with me! The rest of you, stay here and be careful. We'll investigate."

"Fuck!" Jason screamed, louder. "Why am I not coming?!"

"I need you to protect your siblings!" Batman said before he ran off with Dick in tow.

"Grayson!" Damian couldn't help but yell. "Father, shouldn’t we stick together instead?!”

He couldn’t help the worry that stuck to his voice.

Dick swerved back before he could leave the control room and immediately pulled Damian into a hug. "Little Bat," he said softly. "Stay here and protect Stephanie and Tim, okay? They need it."

Damian wanted to protest at his reassurances, almost indignant at the idea that he possibly needed comfort, but he didn’t say a word as Dick stroked his back. Timothy didn't speak up either, completely silent. Damian knew that he was also feeling some sense of immense dread, their survival instincts giving them a premonition of danger and death.

Damian tried to hold his brother closer, eyes wide before Dick pulled away, pulling on a false smile.

"Be careful!" He screamed and then he left.

"This isn't good, this isn't good." Tim muttered as he furiously tapped on the keyboard to figure out what was going on. Everything was down, even their systems and now they just waited in the darkness for a signal of safety.

Jason cursed under his breath. "I should've been with them!" He muttered.

Damian pushed down his nausea and said, "Then let's go. With the computers down, there is no reason for us to stay here when we could go out and help them."

"Fuck, I'm going." Jason pulled out his guns and immediately began to load them with bullets.

"Dammit." Tim cursed and Stephanie pulled out her own bo staff and looked determinedly at them.

"Let's go." She said, and they all followed her as she left first.

They ran through the halls to get to the sector where the explosion had supposedly started. The air seemed stale and dark, and a distant 'ooh'ing noise like wind going through a hole disturbed them greatly. Damian wished he had his swords, but all he had was a bo staff and a few batarangs to protect himself.

His eyes searched the darkness. Stephanie and Timothy were next to each other, their shoulders almost bumping against each other's for comfort, while Jason trailed a little behind Damian, guns out and ready. Damian reassured himself that his family was safe. Cassandra was surely just fine and so would his father and Richard be. They would be okay.

They would all be okay.

There was another crash right in front of them and Stephanie screamed. Jason immediately shot into the dark, the bright flash of a gunshot illuminating the hall for a moment, showing just who came through the wall.

A grotesque monster with bulging, writhing black tentacles stared at them before the light faded. Jason relentlessly shot his bullets, but they seemed useless.

There was a short scuffle before a disturbing squelching noise.

Timothy gave a long, loud keen before his body blocked Damian's vision.

The last thing that Damian saw before Timothy was pulling him away was Stephanie's fallen body, a deep blackness covering her that would shine crimson red.

They ran.

The moment Damian was able to reconnect with his thoughts and surroundings, he pulled his hand out of Timothy's and said, "Brown! She's still back there!"

"No!" Timothy snapped, his voice sounding wrecked. "We have to run. I saw her. She's not coming back."

Jason cursed violently and they quickly skidded into the next hall, shutting the sealed doors for a moment.

"Fuck. It's them. They found Cassandra and took her memories." Jason said and Damian choked on his fear and shock.

Timothy shuddered visibly and then said, "I think they got Stephanie too."

Damian grimaced, hurt shooting through his chest like a bullet wound before he gasped.

"Father! And Richard! They—They went ahead of us!" It was almost instantaneous how both Jason and Timothy paled.

Jason smacked his hands over his eyes. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!"

He took out his helmet and quickly put it on. "I'm going out. Maybe I can find them. Bruce is smart, he's probably still alive and I'll find them."

"You're not invincible, Todd." Damian snarled. "Let us come with you. If we die, we'll all die together."

"Like hell we will." Jason said curtly. "You little shits are gonna live because if another Robin dies, I'm...." He paused. He didn't know what to say.

None of them could find the words needed to comfort each other.

Damian's stomach dropped further into his feet, as if he was about to be sick.

Timothy reached out and grabbed onto Jason's sleeve. "Jason. You know it's a suicide mission. You can't go."

Jason reloaded his bullets and didn't say anything.

When he turned, Jason's helmet was still on his face as he stared at both Tim and Damian. Then he reached over to put a gloved hand on their heads and said, his voice crackling softly, "I gotta go, Robins. Protect each other. Be safe. I mean it."

His touch was heavy and warm, even through his glove. Damian stared at his akhi with wide, wet eyes.

Timothy screamed in shock and despair as Jason sealed that exit and then ran off. They heard the distant sounds of gunshots before they faded.

Timothy gasped for breath, tears flowing down his face but he quickly wiped them and then pulled on Damian's arms. "C'mon, Robin. It's up to us now. We have to get to the exit bay and hope that everyone else gets through this alive and back home."

No one voiced the fact that it would be near impossible.

As they ran, Timothy was furiously typing on his communicator. When they reached the ship bay, where extra spacecrafts were stationed and ready to fly, they found it blissfully empty.

Already suspicious, they snuck inside. Damian was almost irritated by the small gasps that left Timothy's throat but he understood, with the grief that seemed to eat through his stomach. After a moment, as they inched towards a spacecraft, Damian reached out to hold Timothy's hand and squeezed gently.

Timothy squeezed back and they both sped up to the spacecraft. They both worked together to open it up and get it ready for space travel when there was a distant roar.

Damian shuddered hard, goosebumps rising over his skin as he worked even faster, flicking on buttons and readying the controls and coordinates.

Timothy cursed and said, "Dammit. I can't message Earth."

Damian bit into his lip.

Nothing was going well. Where were their family?

Timothy handed Damian the communicator. For a moment, Damian just stared at it in confusion before he turned to Timothy with questioning eyes, his heart squeezing in his chest.

What was the meaning of this? Was Timothy possibly handing off their last chance of survival to him? For what reason?

"What is this for?" Damian snapped.

"Just hold it," Timothy said exhaustedly. "I need to go out and see if the exterior of the pod is functional for space travel. You stay here and stay inside while I go check outside."

"No! What if something happens and I am unable to stop it?" Damian said, his foot stomping once on the ground to emphasize his point.

Timothy didn't say anything as he started to walk down the ramp to the ground outside of the ship. Damian rushed forward to grab his hand and pull him back.

"Why must everyone sacrifice their lives?!" Damian shouted. "You don't need to do this! Let's just stick together!"

"Just shut up, Damian!"

"No! Let's leave now! I-I want to leave now!"

Timothy turned to him with a furious expression but whatever was on Damian's face made him pause. Then he pursed his lips together before pulling Damian in close.

They had never hugged before.

The closest they had ever been was whenever Damian lunged forward for a knife to Timothy's gut.

But this... this wasn't so bad. Damian's eyes burned with an urge to cry and he grabbed onto his brother's suit.

"We will be okay, Damian."

And just as he said that, he pushed Damian forward and through the aircraft as the aliens finally revealed themselves as well as the tentacle that now wiggled into Timothy's stomach.

It happened in an instant.

Damian couldn't even react as Timothy was impaled through his torso.

Blood spilled on the floor and through Timothy's mouth. Timothy coughed, more blood dripping down his chin. He inched forward as the tentacles seemed to pull him back. It was a slow thing, as Damian watched in frozen horror as Timothy moved towards him.

"Timothy!" He couldn't help but blurt it out. "You're going to be ripped in half, you imbecile!"

He took out a batarang, already formulating a plan to hopefully cut away the tentacle but then Timothy reached into his side pouch and took the access card out, slotting it into the card reader and smiling reassuringly at Damian as blood dripped from his lips and body.

"You'll be okay." He croaked, before a black blur shot out and impaled his skull, blood splattering over the doors as they quickly shut themselves.

The aircraft began to lift itself from the ground automatically as Damian screamed with rage and grief, his fist smacking into the door as he flew away. The last thing he saw before he sped off into space and back to earth was Timothy's limp body being dragged backwards.

Damian sank to his knees and didn't get up for a long time.

When he arrived back to Earth, it was useless.

Because Gotham was now gone.

————

Damian opened the door.

Inside was a wide, circular room with marble walls and floors. The ceiling was tall, and windows covered it, letting in golden light that lit up the room with an ethereal glow. In the middle of the room was a pool of water surrounding a tall tree on a little island.

Damian couldn't help the gulp of air that he took, rejuvenating him with a refreshing lightness like he was breathing in sunlight.

"Ah." A voice gasped softly. Damian whipped his head upwards and stared at a figure floating within the tree branches. "Hello."

This person wore white and black, their clothes all flowing around them. On their face was a deer skull, its horns stretching behind them as their white hair, strangely similar to Jason's unique white coloring, floated gently.

"Are you the God from the legends?" Damian asked, his voice sounding braver than he felt as the pressure of this being encased him.

"The legends? I suppose so. Do you have a wish, Damian al Ghul-Wayne?"

Damian flinched before his gaze hardened. "Yes. I would like to make a deal with you."

"I see." The god jumped off of the tree branch and floated in front of him. The air felt colder as they drifted closer to Damian. "What is your wish?"

"I want my family to live again."

The being paused. They tilted their head and then said, "Your family?"

"Yes." Damian paused and then clarified, "I want my entire family to be alive again. My father, all of my brothers, my sisters, my grandfather, and my extended family within Gotham."

"... a very big ask." The god murmured.

A chill rose within Damian and he said urgently, worried that his wish wouldn't be granted, "I am willing to do whatever it takes to have my wish granted. I can kill whoever you ask, I can offer my own body...! Anything, as long as my family is alive again."

The god tilted their head the other way. Then they said, "I see. Name your family."

Damian's breath hitched but before he did, he asked, "Will my wish be granted?"

"Yes."

Damian thrilled at that, before he paused. Then he asked carefully, "What is the price?"

The god turned to look at him. Their empty eye sockets, filled with a faint green glow, seemed to bore holes into his soul. "The price of the revival of your family is to sacrifice your life and eternity to me. You will offer your life, your death, and your eternity to me, for me to do whatever I wish."

Damian's breath stuttered. He paused, heart pounding as he debated with himself.

But who was he kidding?

There was no such question in the first place. Damian was not worth even an toe from his family. He wasn't even worth enough to even gaze upon their shoes.

Damian nodded firmly. "I agree to your deal. If I offer everything that I am to you, you will agree to revive my family as they once were?"

"They will be revived and reverted back to a time when they were once alive. They will be well and healthy, I assure you. With this deal, I can promise that they will live to old age."

Damian beamed. "Deal. My family's names are Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, and Timothy Drake."

The god seemed to give off an air of satisfaction. "Then, for the soul, eternity, and life and death of Damian al Ghul-Wayne, the aforementioned people will be revived and brought back to life."

They clapped their hands. "It's been done."

Damian couldn't tell if they were lying or not. Still, Damian was overjoyed at this piece of news. "Then... may I go see them?"

The god floated a bit in front of him. "No. You'll stay here, with me."

Damian paused, his stomach dropping and he wanted to smack himself for hoping. "I see. What will you have me do?"

Would they make Damian kill for them? Be a slave? Use his body? Would he have to sacrifice his body parts for them? Kidnap people? The possibilities were endless and although it made a bitter, sour taste go through his mouth, Damian did not dare complain.

The god seemed to be smiling as a broom appeared into existence in their hands. They handed it to Damian who grabbed it unsurely.

"Clean up."

————

And that was the beginning of how Damian became a servant of a lone God.

[an-architect-of-words]

the thing with once upon a time at bennington is that... it paints itself as trying to paint a picture of "all" bennington, but all it does is spread misinformation and cut up interviews with people who loosely knew donna tartt and bret ellis. if you want any more proof of that anolik is like... really reaching and unethical, look no farther than her insistence that michelle maitland (costume designer on succession) is the inspiration behind judy poovey. she said numerous times that she didn't know donna, and maybe her car was the basis for judy's corvette, but THERE WASNT A COSTUME DESIGN MAJOR AT BENNINGTON, and she was a theater major, and she seriously doubts donna has a third eye and could know what industry she'd go into like 10 years after TSH was published. anolik published the interview and said maitland is surely judy anyway.

https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2021/12/succession-secret-history-judy-poovey-connection

Geeeeeez 🤦🏻‍♀️. Yeah this was the stuff I was skeptical about. There seemed to be things that could be such crazy interesting details, but that we can’t know the full context of. And they’re just being stated as truths. I hate to talk about this podcast only having read articles about it; these are just my takes from stuff analyzing sections— but I have thoughts on Matt Jacobsen and Todd O’Neal as well. They probably did give Tartt inspiration for Bunny and Henry. Certain quotes and details seem very taken from them. And Claude Fredricks totally inspired parts of Julian and the Greek class.

That said, it seems fallacious to assume there’s a 1-to-1 comparison between these people and the characters. Just because aspects of Matt Jacobsen were seen in Bunny does not mean that everything Tartt had Bunny do was with Jacobsen in mind. Bunny is still a fictional character. She also stated here that Julian was based on her mind running wild and creating a character based on rumors about Claude Fredricks. He wasn’t literally just Claude Fredricks. Tartt also has given a huge list of books that inspired writing choices in TSH and it really checks out for certain characters. Did Donna Tartt use the fact she transferred colleges and perhaps felt like the odd man out in a Greek class when she wrote Richard? Sure. But does that mean Richard is literally her avatar and that they share every thought, and that he came from zero other inspirations— or that she never departed from herself while writing him? That’s such a stretch.

And there’s another part of this narrative that just doesn’t make much sense to me. If TSH is really a revenge story about how Donna Tartt hated her Greek class and wanted to get back at them, and Richard is her stand in to do so… why is Richard so bad? Do self indulgent revenge fantasies typically make the supposed author stand-in just as wicked as everyone else? And he ends up miserable and alone and coming to terms with that he’s not special and that he’s got California in his blood (being from Cali is a huge part of Richard and Tartt isn’t from California).

Again, I can level with the assertion that authors/artists I like are flawed (some of my favorite authors are severely flawed). But my issue here is that some of this immediately jumps out as wildly intrusive (it reminds me of a different interview where the person asks Donna Tartt a really personal question, and it really shocked me that the person didn’t feel intrusive in asking it. It’s like Tartt’s emphasis on her own privacy makes people weirdly bold.). And it definitely seems like many people in the podcast have a story they want to tell and have decided to tell, despite the discrepancies and lack of clarity. Ultimately, these people are like “please be aware we aren’t claiming this is as fact” but they’re still inserting a scandal into the world.

Finally… another thing that’s weird to me is that Tartt’s peers paint this bitter picture of her for using true happenings and facts about them in the context of her fiction, and they view it as a scummy thing. But I mean, she never addressed anyone by name, claimed a character was them, or portrayed TSH as truth about Bennington. Nobody would even know these people now or about their lives if they hadn’t revealed this stuff on the podcast. But then they go on to say stuff about Tartt that is painted as biographical and they use her real name for profit. I guess I just don’t understand how that’s not very clearly doing what they’re upset she may have done. It’s very hypocritical.

[maarriiii]

Rumors | Bat-Family

A/N: This popped up in my head while i was waiting in line at a bank. Also, this has Damian, Stephanie, Jason, and Dick. So, not all of them batfam but it does mention Tim and Cass. This is my attempt of being “funny” lol. Leave a comment, likes or reblogs because it makes my day when people does it.

Pairings: Dick Grayson/Nightwing x female!reader, Jason Todd/Red Hood x female!reader, Stephanie Brown/Spoiler x female!reader, Damian Wayne x female!reader (All platonic relationship)

Warnings: swearing

my masterlist :))

~~

"Un-fucking-believable." y/n stared at the tabloid in her hands, ignoring the looks thrown her way by passerby. On the cover of said tabloid was a picture of her and Dick, laughing and engaging in a conversation, with a completely false and clickbait rumor in big bright letters to attract readers. She knew exactly when and where this picture was taken, but her guard was down to notice any cameras following them.

About two weeks ago, Dick reached out to her. A case he was working in Blüdhaven seemed to have a correlation with her own in Gotham. After exchanging informations and brainstorming, y/n went with Dick to help solve his predicament and put an end to her own case.

After three days, the duo vigilante managed to apprehend a few corrupt politicians funding illegal smuggling, such as artworks, exotic animals, etcetera. Dick, ever the gentleman, treat her to lunch to celebrate their victory. y/n refused at first, saying that he shouldn't have to, but she just can't seem to say no to him.

"Mind your language, l/n," Damian reminded, sipping his beverage. "We're in public."

"Look at what they're saying about me!"

Damian took the tabloid from her hand and raised his brow. "You and Richard? Romantically involved? Tt, obviously these people have no idea what they're talking about."

"I know!" y/n snatched it back and flipped through the pages. "Look at this. They're saying I'm a gold digger and that Dick is my next target."

"If you are a gold digger, Father would've gotten rid of you a long time ago. Ignore that lies. I doubt anyone would read it."

"Oh, trust me, Damian. There are a lot of people who actually believe this crap. God, I can't afford this again. I've already been attack on Twitter that one time for letting Tim nap on my shoulder."

"They are imbeciles, then. Come l/n. We need to stop by the pet store before we return."

~~

"Hey y/n. Sorry I'm late. I was—woah, what's with the face?" y/n ignored Steph's greetings as she watched her phone. Steph observed her, a grey Gotham University hoodie with the hood covering her face, scowling at her phone as her thumb moved up and down. They both plan to meet at a café near where Step lived so they could discuss some things and just hang out. The blonde was late by just six minutes because some douchebag idiot decided to rob an old lady in broad daylight. She was satisfied seeing the crook run away in fear.

"I have been the subject of online bullying for the past two days ever since that stupid pictures of me and Dick went viral."

Steph grimaced. "Oh yeah, I heard about that. I feel your pain. Same thing happened to me when Tim and I first dated."

"That's not even the worst part, Steph." The plate and glass on the table rattled due to the force of her hands. "There were even reporters and cameras outside my apartment, waiting like a bunch of fucking vultures. I swear to god if I have one more camera shoved in my face, I'll hit someone."

Steph stood from her chair, a determined look on her face. "Okay, get up and stop scowling. You've been hanging out with Damian too much."

y/n furrowed her brows, but stood up anyway. "Wha—you just got here? Where are we going?"

"You, me, and Cass are going to have an impromptu girls night, er...day."

"No, Steph, it's fine. You don't have to. I'm overreacting."

Steph shushed her and looped her arm around her friend's arm, walking towards the exit. "You're telling me you don't want to stuff your face with ice cream and mess with those paps?"

"Okay, you win."

~~

"Shut up, Jay. It's not funny." In the rare times that Jason visited the manor, he always stick to the Batcave, his old bedroom, or wherever y/n or Alfred was in the large and maze like residence of the Wayne family. That day they were sparring on the cave, sweat rolled down their foreheads and clinging to their shirts. They were both holding a bo staff, circling on the mat, waiting for each other to make the first move. y/n had already taken down Jason first early in the sparring session. Jason just took her down—with dirty tactics she must add—just two minutes ago. y/n knew he was getting her riled up into making a sloppy move to use to his advantage by mentioning the dating rumor.

"Eh, it's kinda funny." He teasingly smiled. "I mean, everyone knows the two of you are just friends. But, isn't that what they always said?"

Her attack was blocked by Jason's staff and y/n wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off of his face. "You're an ass, you know that right?"

"I've been told that many times actually. Thank you for noticing."

Their sparring session grew tense by the minute. Although, y/n managed to land some solid blow, it wasn't enough to take him down. But, she thought she was doing pretty well since she managed to block some of Jason's hits. y/n knew Jason was going to be hard to overpower. The second oldest of the family was as tall as Bruce and maybe even had more muscle mass. The only way to overpower him was to rely on her agility and speed and use his massive weight against him. She remembered a trick that Tim taught her with the bo staff. She haven't mastered the skill quite well, but she knew it well enough to do it. The worse thing that could happened was Jason gloating this loss over her head for days.

Making up her mind, y/n charged at him. He was already surprised by her sudden move, but it still wasn't enough. She executed a series of moves, mindful of her stamina and keeping a look out for Jason's weak spot. She attacked when she saw an opening and did it over and over again. After awhile, Jason was getting sloppy. He was charging at her without any thoughts behind his attacks. He just wanted her down. Using this to her advantage, y/n tried to strike his head. He took the bait and blocked the attack, leaving his lower body unprotected. She used the other end of her staff to hit him where the sun doesn't shine and Jason doubled in pain. She swiped his legs, making him collapsed on the mat and made a show by thrusting her staff only to stop merely inches from Jason's face.

"What was it that you said earlier?" y/n smirked. "Something about I can't take you down even if I try? Is that it, Jason? I think that's it. "

Jason rolled his eyes and stood up. "Alright, alright, fine. I won't bring up the rumor again. Jesus, where did you even learn that move?"

"Well, when you're the favorite one, you can pretty much get anything you want. I ask Tim to teach me that."

"If that's the case, can you ask Bruce to lend me the Bat-mobile?" Jason wiped his sweat with a towel and drank from his water bottle.

"Absolutely not. And why do you even need it?"

"Come on. I'll take good care of it."

"Not convinced."

"How about if I take you to dinner?" He flashed his flirtatious smile.

"Nope. Not happening, Jason."

~~

y/n was busying herself with chores one Saturday afternoon when her phone suddenly rang, replacing the catchy tune of a song that filled her apartment. Her singing and hand movements halted. She washed her hands, dried it on a towel over her shoulder, and frowned when the person calling her was none other than Dick Grayson. After about a week, the rumors about their supposed budding relationship had died down. Reporters and cameras had stop crowding outside of her apartment building and she received less hate comments on social media. y/n knew it was bound to happen. A story as insignificant as this one would be forgotten and replaced the moment something even more exciting happening. And that exciting thing was the trail of large and monstrous plants left by Poison Ivy just outside of Gotham City.

"Hey, Dick." y/n greeted, balancing her phone between her shoulder and head. "What's up?"

"Umm...nothing much." Dick stuttered, a rustling sound was heard on the background. "You?"

"Eh, just chores. You okay? You sound weird."

"Well, I was walking outside today and I found something...odd."

"Oh? Odd how?"

"Well," he hesitated, scratching the back of his head. "people seemed to be thinking that we're dating. Remember that time we went out for lunch?"

"Ugh, don't remind me. I just had the paparazzi off my back. They're a menace."

"Wait? You knew? And you didn't tell me?"

y/n frowned. "I thought you knew. It wasn't exactly a secret, Wing. We—well, mostly you—were trending everywhere. Wait, you don't have cameras following you around everywhere?"

"I do, but not too much. Just a couple here and there. Have they been harassing you?"

Those sons of bitches, y/n thought. Of course they were only targeting her. Dick was the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. They were probably too scared to crowd him they way they did with her because of him. They probably didn't want to get sue or pissed him off. Well, it was either that or the fact that Dick lived in Blüdhaven. A small part of y/n wanted the paparazzi to come back just so she could have their vengeance.

"No, it's fine, Dick. They're gone now, thank god. I'm surprised the others didn't tell you though. Jason was being an annoying little shit about it. Babs didn't say anything?"

"No, she didn't." Dick shook his head even if y/n can't see. "But, then again she's working on that case."

"Oh, yeah. Lucky you, then."

Dick let out a laugh. "I guess so. You sure they're not gonna bother you again?"

"Positive. Dami and I have a great plan to throw them off in case they show up."

"Should I even asked?" He questioned, worry etched in his voice.

"Nope, but don't worry." A wicked smile on her lips. "It won't involve any physical pain."

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 

"Well okay, Grogu it is." 

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

.

.

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taglist: @honestly-shite

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Do Angels giggle?

Warning: Mentioned death of multiple people, a teeny tiny bit of angst, swearing, but otherwise you should be fine Word count: 4k (sis snapped again)(I should really stop doing this tbh) Summary: A rumor of an angel kidnapping criminals and leads them to a path of justice and Jason is on the suspects track. He hasn’t expected to be caught and he surely hasn’t expected what met him there...

This was requested by @middevil465​: 'Babe did you fall from heaven bc you seem to be a chaotic ever shifting sphere of eyes & wings making a sound not of this earth and I’m kind of hoping God sent you because this is terrifying' with jason x reader

Jason really didn't plan on this to happen. He didn't plan on getting caught while spying on the current suspect in a case of criminals disappearing only to re-appear with no memory of what happened and babbling of being lead to a better life by an angel. And he certainly didn't plan to end up in a warehouse that was decorated with a clearly religious altar and other things that heavily reminded him of the church. The only thing that wasn't church-y was the fact that he was tied to a - honestly not uncomfortable - chair in front of the altar. The worst fact was that he, too, couldn't remember how he ended up here. He had some flashes of memories, about how Bruce assigned him to the case, about how he found a man that all the criminals who found themselves 'victim' had met sometime before their disappearance and how he'd found and followed him before he blacked out.

And now he was here. He wasn't really afraid as much as he was concerned and curious about what was going to happen next. Bruce could easily track him as soon as he noticed he wasn't answering so there was also not much reason to try to escape before he knew what was going on here or if he was in any serious danger. Jason wasn't sure what to expect. Tortue, drugging, brainwashing? He knew the man must have some kind of secret weapon that made him able to re-write these criminals to his liking, but he wasn't quite sure why. Everyone in the cave had different theories. Bruce and Dick thought that he maybe got information about their 'businesses', deleted the memory and sold the info, Damian and (surprisingly enough) Tim thought that the criminals had been involved in something bigger, all of them involved somehow, and the person (or people) who hunted them down and changed their memories and life choices, were on a hunt for information. Steph and Cass had agreed that it was a cult or a conspiracy and Barbara had said that she wouldn't make any theories just yet, or rather not reveal hers. Jason had a more sinister thought though. He knew about the criminal world better than most others in his family, once having been a big part of it too, and he thought that whoever was able to do this, was slowly building an empire, first taking out smaller criminals, snitches and errand boys, maybe as to test their methods, before going for the big fish and re-writing them to take over their territory. It was honestly a good plan, but the fam wasn't really happy about it. Having an enemy that could delete and rewrite memories and demeanours could be a real threat. That was why Jason needed to find out how they did it. But he didn't see anything in the warehouse room that would implicate what they used for their plan, only all that church stuff, and Jason considered that it was probably something to harden the illusion that it was an angel who showed them the 'light'. 

"I've seen thou have been awakened, man in the blooded hood," a male voice echoed through the large space and bounced off the walls. The man he had followed stepped in front of him in a robe that reminded him of a monk. "It's crimson, bitch," Jason snarkily responded and couldn't help the smirk on his face, but it didn't seem to even slightly faze him. "Many have found the devil in their words in this city, but we, the church of hope and new ways, have made it our mission to bring thou, wrongdoers, to a path of justice and good, to a path of the angel." So Cass and Stephanie were right after all? A cult, really? "So that's all very noble and all, at least in theory, but ya know, I'm kinda on your side. With hunting and jailing criminals and all that jazz." "Thou words are full of sin that thou not even recognize, but don't fret, we will free you of them, free you of the devil within and bring you on a path of belief and light, we will bring thou to face with the angel that hath shown us the way too." Now that was next-level crazy, Jason thought and rolled his eyes under his still worn helmet. "Well, knock yourself out," he sighed and leaned back in the chair. Seemingly listening to Jason, the man disappeared through a door and suddenly all the lights in the room went out, leaving Jason in complete darkness, unable to turn on the night vision in his helmet. He heard another door on the other side opening and light steps echoed through the room, but whoever came in didn't make any other sounds but that. Then he was blinded by the brightest light he had most likely ever seen and what his eyes saw when the light simmered down a bit and he got used to the brightness made him freeze to the core. The words that left his mouth next were the result of habit more than thought, but he said them nonetheless: "Babe did you fall from heaven because you seem to be a chaotic ever-shifting sphere of eyes and wings making a sound not of this earth and I'm kind of hoping God sent you because this is terrifying." He wasn't wrong though. In front of him was, in fact, actually an ever-shifting sphere of eyes and wings that was making sounds that were clearly not human, neither anything that he had ever heard off-world and even though Jason was by no means religious, he had heard enough about how the angels in the bible were described to identify this thing in front of him as an angel. Suddenly the ever so brave, fearless and cocky Jason Todd stared at that being in front of him and his hidden face was drawn by fear and terror. He could deal with torture and pain, he could deal with technology and drugs, but he couldn't deal with whatever would be happening next. What would be happening next? Well, whatever it was that he expected, it sure as hell wasn't what happened. The sphere that he feared more than he had feared anything in the last years started to giggle. GIGGLE! Do Angel's even giggle? How would I ever know if angels giggle? The glow died down and the shifting intensified, the eyes were closing and drawing together, the wings merging too until there was only one pair left and the sphere turned into a different form, something longer and more humanly shaped, until it did a final change and turned into a girl. And what a girl she was. Jason's breath was stolen by her and the atmosphere surrounding her. She looked stunning in every sense of the word, from the Y/S/C skin that was basically glowing with angelic shine, her hair that was somehow looking like a halo even though it was nothing like one and her face that seemed to be sculptured by whoever created this hellhole called life themselves. And don't let him get started on the pair off wings that she was still sporting on her back. It was quite honestly gigantic. So big that its lowest part was reaching the floor and the highest part was still a few inches higher than her head. He could imagine that they would fill out the entire room if she was to stretch them out and the thought alone made him somewhat fuzzy in his head. He wished he could describe their colour, but he was sure that it was none of the ones he had ever seen on any planet, ever, he wasn't even sure if his eyes should be humanly able to comprehend the colour and yet there he sat looking at them. He was so impressed by these celestial limbs that he didn't even notice the fact that the girl was, in fact, completely naked. But even if he'd notice it, he wouldn't have seen her body as something sexual. The way she was moving like it was completely natural would more likely make him feel ridiculous for ever thinking of a naked body as something as intimate. And then her voice. Her voice was even more divine than anything else, making his whole body tense up and relax simultaneously. "You are full of darkness, but your darkness is unlike anything else they have shown me," she stated matter-of-factly and she came close to him, rounding him a few times with curiosity in her eyes, "And not just your insides are different than the ones they showed me, your head seems to have a sort of protective shell, how magnificent." Is she talking about my helmet? Does she think it is a part of me? "Uhm, Miss Angel, that isn't a part of my body, it's removable," he said, surprised that he was even  able to talk with his heart basically having stopped beating. Her eyes widened in child-like wonder and she kneeled down in front of him, her wings spreading out slightly beside her to accommodate the change in height. "Would it be okay if I were to take it off?" she asked in innocence that Jason has quite honestly never seen before. "Uhm, sure," Jason answered, completely having forgotten the whole reason that he was here in the first place.   Her delicate hands slowly found their way to were his helmet laid over his ears and she looked into the general direction of were his eyes were, her Y/E/C orbs seemingly shifting colour every time she moved even an inch. "I'll try to be careful," she hummed and started trying to get it off, changing her tactic ever so often when she noticed that it wasn't working, but instead of telling her what to do, Jason just looked at the angel and couldn't find any words. Finally, after about two minutes, she managed to pull it off and carefully laid it down beside the chair, before finally leading her gaze to his now, except for the domino mask, uncovered face. She didn't say anything, just bringing her hands up to his face and tracing it, including every scar, no matter how little, and every edge. Even though he had been in awe before, now he could almost comprehend why the criminals changed their ways, hell, at that moment he'd burn the city down without hesitation if she'd asked for it. Finally, her fingers wandered over the edges of his mask and when he gave her a small nod of consent, she somehow managed to peel it off and free his eyes for her to see. He didn't mind that she now knew what he looked like, that she could now identify him, but to be honest, he didn't think much about it, too caught up in that moment and that moment only. Their eyes met in a moment of complete silence whit the only sound present in Jason's head was the pounding of his heart and the rushing of his blood. "You are really unlike the others aren't you?" her voice broke that moment, but he somehow knew that he wasn't expected to answer. For a few heartbeats, the two off them stayed in place, before the angel ruffled her feathers, the sound echoing through the warehouse, like dozens of birds flying away. She raised back to her full size, her wings folding back to where they had originally been. "Tell me, why do my saviours want me to bring you to the light? I can see that it is already in you, it may be clouded and darkened, but it is there," she asked him and her hand was cupping his cheek in an act that seemed unnoticed by herself as if she was doing it unconsciously. Jason wasn't quite sure how to respond to that question, but he noticed something else in what she said, something that formed confusion in him. "Your saviours? Shouldn't it be the other way around?" "How do you mean that?" the angel asked with honest naive confusion written over her face as she cocked her head to the side and folded her hand in front of her bare stomach. "Well, uh, I'm no expert by any means, but you're an angel right?" She nodded but kept quiet as if that question didn't give her a clue as to what he meant. "Uhm... Angels are creatures sent by God and...uhm...they are over humans, right? So how is that guy and whoever he works with your saviour? Is he Jesus or something?" What she answered was something he didn't even remotely expect. "Who?" "Jesus? Your Boss's son? God sent messiah to free all humans? Allegedly forgave us for our sins and got killed for that?" Jason rambled and tried to count down everything he still remembered. The angle put her hand in front of her mouth in shock at his words. "That sounds horrible, is he okay?" she asked in a tone that made it pretty clear to Jason that she did, first of all, not know who Jesus was, and second, had no idea what killing actually meant. "Uhm, sure, he's great, somewhere up there with his dad, I guess," Jason just shrugged, not really caring about that topic anymore and more focusing on all the facts about her being an angel that didn't add up. "Can you tell me about yourself?" he just boldly asked her, but it didn't seem to phase her at all, in fact, she brightened up at the possibility to tell him about her. "Uhm, I can't tell you much, but I was saved by the church of hope and new ways when they found me after what they called a miracle, they took care of me and explained to me that I was sent to them to be their tool to re-shape the world," she explained with a somewhat proud undertone, but Jason's feeling got cemented. The feeling that she had actually no idea what was going on around her and what she was used to do, and the feeling that she may not really be the sort of angel he, and seemingly she, believed she was. "Re-shape the world?" he investigated further, a small voice muttering theories in the back of his head. "Mhm," she nodded and her right wing folded itself slightly in front of her as if she was nervous or shy, "They bring men who are filled with darkness and they have me look into them, look if they have light and make me watch their mind, then they have told me to bring them into the sun, I show them the way that they tell me is right, make them believe in the church." Her words were slightly wary and Jason could recognize the doubt in them. She wasn't doing this voluntarily... "Do you want to do that?" he asked to clarify things for himself, and maybe also her. Her eyes wandered to the door the mock-monk had disappeared in and Jason could have sworn he saw something like fear in them. "I- Uhm- Yes," she nodded, but couldn't look at the man in front of her, she had almost turned her whole body away from him. "I don't believe you." "Why?" her voice wasn't as childish and curious and innocent anymore, it was small and fragile. "I'm not sure, but I think they are lying to you, I think you aren't an angel. I mean, you're sure as hell no human, but you're not an angel, at least not one in the...uhm..traditional sense." This seemed to gain her attention in a way that had her turning around again and made her take a step towards him. "Do you really think so? Because... I have tried to tell them, but they said no to all my questions, they told me that I am the tool for the church, that that is my only task and that I would be lost without them, but I can see it in them too. The darkness, they tell me to turn into light, is in them too, but they don't let me change it, they tell me I must see something that isn't there... And not only that... I have memories, memories of the Miracle. I see flashes of other people, people that make my heartache, and flashes of a building, one that looked like this room here on the inside. "And then there are other flashes, flashes I have at nights when I'm resting, there are loud noises and heat is licking at my skin, at my back, at my whole body, and there are so many screams." She seemingly didn't find the connection between those memories, but Jason sure as hell did. It was mainly a theory at that point, but he believed that she had been at church with her family when it burned down, maybe there was magic involved or she had the meta-gen inside her, but while her family burned she must have turned into the angel she was now, losing most of her memory in the process. The people that must have found her and figured out of the great powers she had, had decided to use her for their own sinister plans and she was none the wiser, Jason couldn't know if she had always been that naive and innocent, but she was now and, even though he had only known her for a matter of maybe half an hour, she had grown on him if he was being honest. "Can you see into other people's heads? Can you read other people's memories too?" he asked, a small plan forming in his mind. She looked at him in thought, but she seemingly was somewhat intrigued. "I believe so, I have only done it one or two times." "Read my mind, read my memories," he almost commanded, but she was taken off for other reasons. "Why would you want me to do that? My saviours tell me that it isn't my place to do so..." "I know this is confusing and what you will see will shock you, but I hope you will be able to trust me after that, trust me to help you, get you out of here." The prospect of being away from her 'saviours' seemed to make her interested, but there was something else that she had to know beforehand. "Will you stay with me? Will you take me with you? I can't be alone, I don't know where to go, what to do, I can't- don't think that I can survive all alone," she looked away and he could see the fear and pain, of not knowing what the future would hold in her whole demeanour, and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, but the restraints that were still binding him to the chair were keeping him from doing so. "If you don't want to be, you won't be alone, I will take you with me, we will go through this together, okay?" "Okay," she smiled slightly and came to him, her hands hovering over the rope around his chest and, in a for Jason surprising turn of event, her palms started glowing and the rope basically disintegrated leaving him free to stand up, having to physically restrain himself from holding her. "This won't be happening to me too?" he asked gesturing to what was still left off the rope. And she giggled again. God, he had almost forgotten how heavenly that giggle was. "No, I don't think it will," she said in a tone as if she was honestly questioning her statement, but before he could say anything about it her hands found themselves on the sides of his temple and the last thing that echoed through the room before the angel fell unconscious in his arms was her scream.

When the angel woke up she felt utterly exhausted. She had seen everything that had ever happened in Jason's life, including his death and every time he had killed, and she had felt it like she was it who experienced it. It had literally drained her, but Jason was correct, as she woke up again, she trusted him with her life and more. She knew him now. Possibly better than anyone else in the world. And not only that, when her eyes opened he was the first thing she saw. She was laying in his lap, something that was astounding enough considering the giant wings that were spread out beside her and partly over Jason, and somewhere along her time of being in his memories he had taken off his brown leather jacket and had put it on her and zipped it up, keeping the, in normal standards, intimate parts of her body hidden from sight. What the angel couldn't see were the bodies of the people who had, in Jason's opinion, used you for the past few months that were stacked in the backroom and, if he was lucky, not dead. "Sorry you had to see this, but I wanted for you to be able to completely trust me," Jason whispered, his hands caressing through her hands. "It's okay, I understand," she hummed back and they both knew that she meant more than just the statement about him wanting her to trust him. "Can we leave now?" "Of course," he smiled and helped her up, having been made aware earlier when she passed out that her wings added more to her body weight than he had anticipated, but that was to expect, they were robust and spread out almost twice as big as Jason in width. The angel, who Jason really needed to find a name for, had the wing on the side opposite of where Jason stood beside her, drawn in, but the one that was on his side was spread out behind him like a shield, curling around him slightly, but he just smiled and slightly shook his head at that. He honestly really didn't know what it was about the girl, his angel, or the whole situation itself, but a really small part of him wanted to believe that maybe there was something like a bigger picture, maybe not necessarily a god, but something that had brought them together, something that had wanted to make him know that the two of them knowing each other was meant to be.

[rawritzrobin]

Seeing Red Chapter 11

Title: Seeing Red

Master List

Pairing: Jason Todd x Stella Covington (OC)

Warnings: Cursing, major character death, a little bit angsty, fluff.

Summary: After months of suppressed feelings, some things come to light.

Chapter 11: Graduation

2 Years Later

The auditorium was filled with parents, students, and teachers. Commencement had just ended so the people inside the building were in a frenzy. Students were looking for their parents, parents were looking for their kids, and teachers were just trying to get out and go home.

Stella stood near the back doorway. She had her graduation hat tucked between her arm as she types away on her phone.

She sends a text to Jason; I’m in the back next to the door.

Right as she presses send, she feels a pair of arms snake around her waist. She turns around to see Jason, who was currently wearing a baseball cap and a large pair of sunglasses. This was Jason's way of "hiding his identity" because well he was technically still dead in the eyes of the public. Stella laughs at his outfit. She turns around in his arms and wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug.

“Congrats doll.” He said pulling her tighter.

“You look ridiculous.”

Jason smirks at her. “You don’t like my look? I’m hurt.” He puts his hand on his heart, feigning pain.

Stella makes a face at him and he rolls his eyes. He takes off his hat and sunglasses and tucks them both inside his back pocket. “Is this better?”

“Better.” She says with a grin.

“Stella.” A deep voice says from behind her.

Stella turns around to face her dad. She smiles brightly and runs into his arms. Mr. Covington hugs his daughters tightly and whispers into her ear. “I’m so proud of you Stella. I just wish your mom was here to see you.”

Stella starts to tear up, but holds it in.

“Thanks dad. I thought you were busy today? I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow.” She says as they pull apart. She is grinning ear to ear. Her dad showing up was something she was not expecting. His schedule was packed, and Stella would never ask him to cancel anything for her. She couldn’t believe he actually showed up. Jason moves to stand next to her.

“Yes, but I had to clear my schedule for a few hours to see you graduate.” He said smiling down at her. “But I do have something in about 30 minutes so I can’t stay long.”

He looks up towards Jason and nods at him. Jason nods back with respect.

It was a little awkward telling Stella’s dad about Jason. But he bought the whole ‘Bruce had to fake his death for safety reasons’ thing. Powerful men like Bruce Wayne always had enemies. Faking his son’s death for protection wasn’t out of the ordinary for people like him. In the public eye, their relationship was a secret. The press still didn’t know about his “revival”.

“Congratulations Stella!” Came a loud booming voice. Stella felt her feet raise off the ground as Dick pulls her up into the air, squeezing his arms tight around her.

“Dick I-I can’t breath.” She said with a small laugh. He quickly put her down and hugs her once more.

“I’m so proud of you little bird.”

Stella smiles brightly at him. “Thanks Dickie.”

“Congratulations Stella.” Another voice said from behind Dick.

Stella looked up at the man and smiles lightly. “Thanks Bruce.” Bruce stretched out his hand, but Stella pushed it away and went in for a hug instead. He smiled softly down at her.

Things with between the Bat family and Jason had gotten better over the years. Jason still had not forgiven Bruce entirely, but they were no longer on killing terms. Every once in a while they would acknowledge each others existence.

Dick managed to wiggle his way back into their lives by being Dick. It became kind of hard to ignore him when he would show up in the middle of a date. Not to mention the flurry of texts and phone calls. Stella gave in eventually. Jason just sort of went along with it.

Things were still a little awkward between Tim and Jason. Jason had taken to calling Tim his "replacement". Stella still wasn’t sure if Jason actually knew his real name. But at least they got along.

Kind of.

Stella pulls away and Bruce steps towards Mr. Covington. They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Stella watched as they exchange pleasantries for a few minutes. Mr Covington looks down at his watch, and excuses himself from Bruce. He gives Stella another hug, before waving goodbye and quickly making his way out the door.

Jason takes this opportunity to bend over slightly and whispers into her ear. “Can I talk to you? Alone?” Stella turns to him and nods. They quickly excuse themselves from the family and find a place that was slightly devoid of people.

Jason looked down at Stella nervously. Stella giggled at him. “What is it Jay?”

“I um… Was going to do this tonight. But the damn thing seems to be getting heavier and heavier in my pocket.”

Stella had no idea what he was talking about.

Jason reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small silver key. “Stella. Now that you’re done with school and stuff. Uh, Bruce gave me one of his safe houses and its actually pretty nice. I know your place is nice and stuff. But this place has heightened security. I would feel a lot better if you were there because of that. I mean not that your place isn't secure. This place is just designed like a fortress. It also has a place for me to enter underground when I get back from patrol. It's really close to your place too. A-and I was just wondering if you wanted to you know, move in with me?”

Stella paused trying to put together all of his words.

Jason panics and starts to ramble. “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought that it would be nice to have our own place. Where I don’t have to get frisked by security every time I walk through the door and…”

Stella placed her finger on his mouth to stop him from rambling any more.

“Yes. Yes I would love to move in with you.” Stella says happily. She throws her arms around Jason’s neck and presses a kiss to his lips. She lets out a yelp when he lifts her off her feet and tips her backward, his hands carefully holding her up. Stella melts into his arms.

*FLASH*

Jason shakes his head after regaining his sight. Stella rubs her eyes, trying to regain her senses. He helps Stella to her feet and they both turn to the source of the flash. Their eyes widen once they realize who it was.

Standing next to a young man with a large camera was none other than Vicki Vale. She had a large grin on her face, as if she had won the lottery or something. Stella had never seen the woman look so pleased with herself.

“I knew I recognized you! Rumor had it you were back, but no one has been able to prove it.” She squealed. She stepped towards the couple and pulled out a small notebook. “The infamous Jason Todd returns from the dead. Tell me why did Bruce Wayne decide to fake your death? Why have you returned from the grave? Oh is that Bruce himself. Hey Wayne!” She screamed, quickly running towards Bruce. The camera man takes off after her.

Stella and Jason look at each other, a bit shocked at what just happened. “Lets get out of here.” Stella whispers to Jason as she pulls him away from Vicki as she is distracted. They head out through the back and make their way towards Jason’s motorcycle. They quickly put on their helmets and ride off.

Once they knew they were far enough, they were in the mountains now, Jason stopped the bike and they got off. They took a seat on a large rock at the edge of the cliff. From here, they had an amazing view of Gotham city. The shoreline was visible from where they were and it looked like the sun was getting ready to set. Jason wrapped an arm around Stella and pressed a kiss into her head. She leans into his embrace.

“You know that story is going to be front page in every news outlet tomorrow right?”

Jason shrugs. “They were bound to find out eventually. It’s a wonder they took this long.” Jason looks down at her. Stella looks up to meet his gaze. “Things are going to be kind of crazy from now on doll. You are dating a dead man after all.”

Stella laughs and smiles up at him, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips. “I think we can handle it.”

[oceanera12]

Knight Fall

So... this AU popped into my head because of a Descendants 3 Song. No, I am not joking and no, I will not apologize because I cannot make animatics.

We need to establish a few things: 

First: the world this happens in is going to be very similar to Young Justice with a few changes. Ras and his loyal followers have been kicked out of the League and are keeping a low profile. Just kind of ignore most of the main plot of Season 3 minus Nightwing finding out about their apparent loss of control/banishment.

Second: Jason has been “dead” for about three years. Two and a half of those years have been spent with the League (Resurrection stuff and such has happened and he does suffer from a bit of memory loss).

Third: Damian is seven years old. He’s a brat, he is trained, and he and Hood have the “best” relationship out of the Al Gaul bunch because Hood doesn’t force him to train 24/7 or punish him for failing. So Talia is not a good Mom in this story.

The characters of this story are either on Team Bats or Team Al Ghul (at least at the beginning).

Team Bats consists of Batman/Bruce Wayne, Nightwing/Dick Grayson, Robin/Tim Drake, Agent A/Alfred Pennyworth, Spoiler/Stephanie Brown, and Oracle/Barbara Gordon.

Team Al Gaul consists of Ras Al Ghul, Talia Al Gaul, Ubu, Senseii, Red Hood/Jason Todd, and Damian Wayne-Al Ghul.

With all of that out of the way, let’s begin:

Starts in Gotham with the emergence of the Court of Owls. The Court wants Dick Grayson as their Talon and they are not happy that he’s slipped a bit out of their reach.

They get rumors about the Al Ghul’s falling out of favor/losing control of the League and are interested in recruiting the displaced group.

Yeah, the Al Ghul’s don’t appreciate that very much and send back the head of their messenger as a warning. Of course, the Court isn’t happy about that and find out about Damian.

Their thought process consists of basically “Well, we lost our previous Talon. This one is younger and easier to change. Let’s take him.”

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem for the Al Ghul’s. But it is only the small group of Assassins vs Undead Army of Talons that get killed, get their bodies picked up, revived, then turned back on the Al Ghul’s.

So very long story short, they flea very reluctantly to the only person who will be able to help: Aka CALLING ON THE BAT.

Red Hood has to wear his mask at all times and is not allowed to speak. Similar situation for Damian, but he’s just in a cute little ninja costume with only his eyes showing. Neither Ras or Talia mentions that Damian is related to Bruce and make an excuse of adopting him as a servant/assassin (which Damian is a bit confused and annoyed about but he is not going to question his Mother or Grandfather). 

Bruce is not happy about the situation but the Court has become frustrated because they are trying to kidnap Dick now so he reluctantly agrees to a team-up with the insane assassins.

Since I do not want to plan out every little plot detail, I’m just gonna hit the highlights

Bruce and Ras argue constantly on how to deal with the Court. Bruce wants to take out the Talons (they are already dead so he’s fine with chopping them to pieces) and arrest the leaders, but Ras want to find the actually living members and kill every last one of them. At the same time, the two of them work together on planning the attack on the Court’s headquarters.

Talia just kind of chills in the background. Sometimes she trains Damian, sometimes she helps her father and Bruce with planning the attack, and sometimes she just sits and watches.

Ubu and Sensi train Damian. They are also sent out every once in a while to spy on the Court. None of the Bats interact with either of them for longer then necessary and vice versa.

Hood does not have all of his memories at this point but he really does not like looking at the “memorial case” for what appears to have been the previous Robin. Most of his days consist of people watching because these people are really familiar and why the heck did he know “Agent A” was someone named Alfie? He also does not like the current Robin for no particular reason. ... The Robin grows on him. Very slowly.

Alfred has also decided he likes the Red Hood for no particular reason. He does not understand why the man does not take off his mask, but Hood is more polite to the butler then the rest of the Assassin’s combined. And he doesn’t even speak! He has also decided the smallest assassin with the Al Ghul’s is trouble, but not evil. He insists on treating the boy’s wounds after his “training” (which all of the Bats have spoken about the cruelty of it but there is not much they can do at the moment). Hood helps him most days patch up the young master.

Damian wants to hate the Bats (Grandfather and Mother both warned him not to grow attached to them as they are their enemies-- respected enemies, but enemies. This situation is an exception). He really does. But there is something about them that he is just drawn to. Grayson is a respectable fighter who had decided to teach him the basics of gymnastics. Drake had excellent skills in deducing and technology, offering to upgrade Damian’s arsenal with a few... non-lethal options (the batarangs were too good to say no to, but Damian made sure to hide them from his Mother and Grandfather). Brown was a bit weak, but what she lacked in skill she made up for in determination. Miss Gordon was one of the best Intelligence officers Damian had seen. Pennyworth is an excellent servant that the others treated with the same respect as everyone else. That was a new concept. And then there was Batman. Something about Batman made Damian feel... safe, was the best word for it.

Tim decides he is going to befriend the tiny assassin. Don’t ask him why, he couldn’t tell you. (It might have had something to do with the well hidden looks the tiny assassin shot at Thalia and Ras. It was a look of wanting praise and wanting to please. The Al Ghul’s either hadn’t noticed or ignored it. Either way, Tim understood that situation more than he would care to admit). So Tim and the tiny assassin are on “friendly terms” is the best way to describe it. He also talks a lot to the Red Hood guy. Hood never responds but he also hasn’t pulled a gun on him so he takes that as a good sign.

Stephanie and Barbra hang together and keep an eye on all the assassin’s to make sure no one dies. They also spy on the Court whenever Ubu and Senseii are not. That’s really about it.

Very, very long story short, everyone goes and attacks the Court. They manage to take down most of the Talon’s and Ras goes to kill the leaders and Bruce tries to stop him.

Fragile alliance falls apart and it’s now a free-for-all with the Bats vs. the Al Ghuls vs. The Court. Cheers.

At some point Jason loses his mask which cause a completely different kind of “falling apart” and Hood is really confused because “Who’s Jason?”

The Court escapes, Al Ghul’s leave (with Jason), and the Bats are ticked/sad/confused/angry. Lots of emotions.

Jason had been getting more of his memories back while with the Bats. He gets more of them back over the course of the next few months and while he is angry that Bruce replaced him, he also knows that Damian was MUCH happier with them.

So when the Court comes for Damian again, Jason snatches the kid up in the confusion and takes him back to Gotham because I NEED PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER JASON. Damian hesitantly goes with Hood but is not as resistant to the idea as he might have been a few weeks back (his mother is NOT a good mother, kay?)

Ras get’s ticked at the world, kills most of the Court members because he thinks Damian got snatched by them (and maybe Hood?). Later finds out Jason was the one to take Damian and tries to kill him, but Damian won’t have that, no siree.

Damian and Jason end up gaining their freedom through combat and head off to Gotham. They get there just before Batman and Co. launch a full blown rescue mission to get Jason back so there’s some saved resources, I suppose.

Also: “Bruce, meet Damian. He’s Talia and your demon spawn.” “... what?” “My father is Batman???”

[xmalereader]

Jason Todd X Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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@nightingales-posts

Requested: Hi, Hon💚 How are you doing? Could I please have a Jason Todd x Male Reader who is basically a Spiderman of DC Universe fic? (Ignore it if it sounds dumb😂)

Warnings: fluff, language, mentions of sex, mentions of rape, teasing, flirting.

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Gotham was one of the most dangerous cites of all and yet people decide to move there. Even if they hear rumors about people getting robbed or things about the joker going crazy ( again ) and wanting to blow up a building full of people and such. People still came, already knowing the consequences. But for Y/n, he didn’t care. He used to live in Gotham for short while before his parents moved out, once he reached an appropriate age he decided to move back, his own mother tried to force him to stay in the small country house that they were living in, but Y/n had to talk his mother out of it and allow him to go on his own and that he wasn’t a child anymore and can take care of himself.

So, he packed up everything and moved out into a really cheap apartment on the bad side of Gotham, and like he told his mother. He can take care of himself and its true he can.

Y/n was born as a metahuman, his parents were normal human beings but somehow Y/n ended up as the odd ball in the family and his parents never knew why. They didn’t know that he had powers but they did know that he was different in some weird way. He kept is a secret for years and during his weekends he would learn new things about himself and keep notes on it. Wanting to make sure that he learns control and not do something harsht to somethign or someone.

As he moved into his new apartmart he was able to get adjusted to the neighborhood and people and was able to learn a few things from them too, Writing them down in case he had too use it against them. He’s been living in Gotham city for a few years now to know who Batman was, he was quiet impressed when he hears about the small familiar trio. Y/n wasn’t one for causing trouble but he always felt great everytime he swung around the city, humming softly to himself as he checked his phone at the same time. His sense alerting him about something up ahead, looking up quickly he noticed a batarang coming towards his way, cutting the line as he gasps and tumbles down on a roof. Groaning deeply as he placed a hand on his side. “Thats gonna hurt in the morning....” he whines out and adjusts his own mask on and puts his phone away.

He gets up from the ground and wobbled a little but quickly regains his balance, he’s fallen many times but this one came as a surprise which caused him to land on his side and Hurt himself. “Well the rumors are try, some freak trying to copy the bats huh?” Y/n looks up to see the famous red hood, gripping a knife in hand as he stands in front of Y/n with his hand on his hip. “I’m not trying out copy anyone.” Y/n groans out and glared under his mask.

Red hood tilts his head to their side with a frown, “Then why you wearing a mask?” He questions, grinning at the other male. Y/n dusts himself off and sighs. “I just need a suit to stay hidden because from what I heard, little Batman and his sidekicks don’t like meta humans—“ Redhoods eyes widen and was about to pin down this guy once he mentioned metahumans but was stopped when he felt something land on his hand, attaching itself to the balcony. “The fuck?” He mumbles out. “—before you do anything, let me finish.” Y/n approached red hood and looks down at his gloves, adjusting his own webbing. He webs red hood down and placed his own hands on his hips, mocking him. “I’m not like others, I’m not stealing and neither am I hurting anyone. I’m just getting adjusted to everything and letting myself get loose, kind of like walking or running when you are bored.”

“The hell is this stuff?!”

Y/n lets his head drop, letting out a deep sigh as he groans. “You aren’t listening, but yet you people never listen.” He matters through clenched teeth. Feeling a slight buzz on his hip, he reached inside his pocket and pulled out this phone. His alarm was going off telling him that it was curfew, yes he gave himself a curfew even though he’s twenty-five. “Thats me.” He puts his phone away once he turned off his alarm. “I have to go, the webbing will dissolve in an hour or two.” He explains, ignoring the others protest as he approached the edge of the roof and smirks, winking at him before jumping off.

Red hood was left on the rooftop, still stuck onto the roof. “I’m gonna kill him.” He growls out and calls for back up. He expected nightwing to show up but instead he got robin who only grinned and teased him. “I thought you were deadlier then me but somehow you got someone to get to you.” He bends down to cut off the webbing from his shoes, frowning he asks. “What is this stuff?” Redhood sighs and puts his blade away, bending down to take a sample of the webbing. “Some guy left me tied up here, best we take a sample and see what the hell this is.”

“Was that coming out of him?” Robin scrunched up his nose in disgust as redhood smirks at the younger robin. “Want to know what he did to me?” He wiggled his brows but robin only smacked him in the face.

—

It’s been three weeks since Y/n last ran into redhood, he was much more careful at nights now since he knew that they would go out looking for him. He would sometimes leave after the sun had set, giving him extra time to stretch out his legs and test out his new abilites. One night he was swinging down a building, landing on top he smiles at his success. “Yes perfect landing!” He tells himself before he’s being tackled down. “What the hell?!”

“Save spider boy.” Redhood was pinning him down, sitting on top of his back as he held y/n’s arms behind his back as well. “Oh god, if your going to rape me I swear—“ Red raised a brow, “What? No!” He exclaims, his grip loosening. Y/n took the opportunity to turn around and kick red off his back, doing a quick backflip he gets up from the ground. “Made you lose.” He teased, stepping back as Red groans from the ground. “You really are a pain in the ass.”

“Well no one told you to follow me!” Y/n shouts back, pouting in between.

Redhood rolls his eyes, “Just want to know who and what you are.” Y/n tilts his head to the side and hums. “Yeah no, you could’ve approached me like a normal human being but instead I get pinned down.”

“You were swinging to fast!!”

Y/n had his arms crossed over his chest as he thinks about this for a second before letting out a deep sigh. “You can call me scarlet or hex.” Red chuckled. “Seriously?”

“Just call me whatever you want okay?!” Y/n throws his hands in the air and exclaimed, groaning in frustration. Glaring at the other.

Red smirks and shakes his head. “Ill call you web boy since you can web people onto walls and such.” He teased which only earned him a glare from the other, he extends his hand out and webs red to the wall that he was leaning Against. “What—?” Red struggles agaisnt the webbing, once again. Y/n walks up to him and hums, reaching up to remove the res mask that he was wearing. “Oh smart, you wear a double mask under this thing?” Y/n says with a laugh and sets down the helmet. “You know, you’re quiet attractive but also and asshole.” He leans close to red.

Their faces were only inches away, “Don’t follow me again.” He held Redhood breath against his face before stepping away from the others personal space. “Remember, Wait two hours-“

“for two webbing to dissolve.” Red finishes for him.

Y/n smirks and picks up the others helmet, “Good boy.” He teases him before placing a kiss agaisnt the helmet and slipping it back onto reds head. “See you soon.” He calls out as he once again disappears into the night.

Jason sighs deeply, already having the hots for the other. He makes sure that his comms are on before calling the others for some backup. But this time everyone came to see Jason webbed up agaisnt the wall. “Again?” Damian raised a brow with a glare. “Sure your not pissing off this guy for no reason? Or just messing with him for fun Jason.” Says dick as he cuts him free. Jason grumbles at his brothers. “that’s none of your business.” He hissed out. Dick only smiles at Jason, “Looks like someone is flirting with the spider boy.” Tim coos out, shaping his hands out into a heart and smirking. “Your dead!” Jason shouts as he chased around the other robin on the rooftop.

[eat0crow]

Jasonette Prompt! Mari and Jason first meeting but it’s after a bunch of thugs tried to jump her (she beat them uppp). anyways they’re both in civilian form and she’s validly untrusting and he calms her down.

Bullies count as thugs, right?

116%

Partly by accident, mostly by self-preservation, Jason figures out that, in order to get everyone to stop looking at him like the poor-orphan-charity-case Bruce Wayne had taken in, he needs to instead get them to write him off entirely.

It’s a genius plan. Gotham Academy is nothing if not judgemental. All he has to do is wear his uniform loose, his tie undone, tell everyone exactly how little he thinks of their petty power plays, and get into a screaming match with his xenophobic history teacher about how people working minimum wage, “Absolutely should be making a living wage. Screw you, you bootlicking capitalist fuck!” within the first month of school. Honestly, he’s surprised he lasted that long.

So maybe he’s a little out of line, it’s not like he’s wrong. And it’s all worth it just to see the look on Bruce’s face when he walks into the principal's office. The man’s eyebrows are practically up to his hairline by the time he hears that Jason, in the face of his teacher's warning, had the audacity to ask, “What are you going to do? Expel me? unfucking likely.”

“It’s not like I’m actually going to be expelled,” Jason says. “Half the school’s annual budget comes from the money you donate. If I’m expelled I’ll have to go somewhere else. You’re not going to invest in a school I’m not attending and they’re not going to those funds.”

With unmasked glee, Jason watches the growing horror spread over his principles face-he’s a smart brown-nosing man after all. He knows exactly what kind of trap he’s walking into. It doesn’t matter that Jason’s history teacher is glaring the man down, looking like he's’ just bitten a lemon. Nope, Jason is not going to be expelled.

“Jason,” Bruce, simply sighs, looking far more put out than he has any right to be.

They settle for him being suspended for the rest of the week with detentions taking place after school on Mondays and Wednesdays for the next two months.

As all interesting gossip tends to, the rumor makes its way through the school before the day is even over-rich kids have way too much time on their hands-by the time Jason comes back the following Monday everyone seems to have decided that he’s a troublemaker unhinged just enough to be dangerous.

It marks the end of people trying to suck up to him, they all seem to have collectively decided that if they mind their own business and leave him out of it, he’ll do the same.

The thing about Jason Todd- fourteen-year-old high school freshman- is that he’s really bad at minding his own business. Like Dick’s Discowling suit levels of bad at it. He's a Robin, after all, you couldn’t be a Robin if you were actually able to keep your nose out of where it shouldn't be. It's practically a rule.

Never once has Jason ever had any fondness for bullies, it doesn’t matter if they were school kids or criminals or one percenters-looking at you Jeff Bezos, looking at you. He’s seen enough of them growing up in the Narrows, and maybe, it’s because his dad, the utter asshole, had been a bully. Maybe he just spends too much time fighting against people who think they can get away with pushing their weight around. It doesn’t matter.

Jason Todd could not bring himself to turn a blind eye, which is why by the beginning of his second semester he’s gained the title of actual-punk-you-know-the-kind-who-fight-the-man with his biweekly detentions being upgraded to triweekly and extended indefinitely. The number of fights he’s gotten into in the last couple of months has easily erased whatever Golden Boy standing Dick had established. Jason is confident that the only reason he’s yet to be kicked out is the fact that Bruce had almost doubled his donations.

So really, when he hears raised voices and the distinct sound of someone being thrown against a wall just as he’s leaving detention for the third time this week, he has to investigate.

Disgust is the first thing Jason can register when he turns the corner because there’s a ring of five students- two girls, three guys- all crowded around the new girl from France. Jason’s pretty sure he shares a class or two with her, maybe. She's easy to miss, small as all hell and stick thin.

This, this isn’t a fair fight. Or a fight she even has a chance of winning. Jason has a bad feeling about this.

But-

But Jason takes a closer look. Her back is pressed against the side of the building, yes. Her bag has been thrown to the ground and she’s shaking but that stance, it definitely doesn’t belong to someone who doesn’t know how to defend themselves. Sure these idiots have her backed into a corner, one point them, but her feet are firmly planted on the ground, her back is straight. She’s not going to run, at least, not before she throws a punch and, judging from the way she’s holding herself, a good one too.

Jason doesn’t really know how to approach this. This girl looks like a deer caught in headlights who will spook the second she hears a loud sound. Getting a teacher would be the most sensible thing to do. It would also require leaving, Jason isn’t confident enough in the situation to do that.

He’s almost talked himself into it, sure it might be a little off-brand for him but this seems slightly out of his depth, when Idiot Number Three, the smirking brunette addition, makes a move toward Marinette-Jason only just remembers her name-and Marinette lashes out.

Dead silence overtakes the yard as the girl goes down, her body crumpling to the ground like a wet paper towel. Marinette’s fist is still curled, her arm still outstretched. She looks like she can’t believe what she just did. Everyone stands frozen for one disbelieving moment before one of the guy's snarls, lunging to grab Marinette’s jacket.

If she was a deer in headlights before, Jason isn’t quite sure what to call her now. She looks like she’s on the cusp of a panic attack, frantically babbling a mishmash of jumbled up words. Jason sees what she’s going to do a second before the bully does, but by then it’s too late.

Marinette, with way more force than someone her size should have, brings her knee up and kicks her would-be attacker in the balls. Jason does not want to feel sympathy pains. He doesn’t, but still, if the way Idiot Number Five falls to his knees is any indication...well.

Idiots Numbered One, Two and Four run off without much fanfare taking their downed Idiot Number Three with them. Jason has a distinct impression they’re going to snitch and Marinette, who was only defending herself and is in no way capable of explaining her side of the story right now, is going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

Nope, not on Jason’s watch. He makes his way over. Closing the distance in three precise non-threatening strides. “So I’m thinking, this isn’t exactly what you had planned,” he says lightly.

“Fuck you, Todd.” Eloquent as ever Idiot Number Five.

“No thanks. You seem like you’re having enough fun clutching your balls for the both of us,” he says cooly, crouching down just enough to make eye contact. “Between you and me, I would run if I were you. Before she decides to come and knock your teeth in.”

“Like she would,” the bully scoffs.

“We both know she could and you know I would let her. Hell, I would help her if it kept your mouth fucking shut.” Jason cracks his knuckles, casually pressing his elbow further into the prick's collar bone. “Fuck, I kinda want to do it too. You really piss me off.”

At least he has the good sense to take Jason seriously. Jason can’t help the satisfaction that comes from watching him get to his feet and limp off. Some things really are poetic. Serves the bastard right, even if he promises that, “I’ll get you back for this, Todd.”

Jason snorts, as if he’d worry about what some schoolyard bully was going to do. Have you seen half the lunatics he fights on a monthly basis? “You good?”

“I-no!” Marinette cries, sinking to her knees in shock. “I am so going to be expelled. God, I’m going to be deported. I’ve only been in Gotham for a month! One whole month and already I’ve

messed this up. Momma is never going to let me out of the house. That’s if they don’t send me to jail. Oh, they’re going to send me to jail, aren't they? I can’t go to jail, orange is a terrible color!”

That's ... a lot to unpack. Jason feels something flutter in his chest. He has the strongest desire to comfort her. So, he does the only thing he can think of, he reaches out, wraps his arms around her waist, and promptly gets punched in the face. Hard.

He staggers back, clutching his eye, Jason barely registers Marinette’s steady stream of. “I’m sorry, so sorry I didn’t mean to hit you.”

Self-consciously Jason shrugs, he’s had far worse. The only thing in danger is his ego. “It was my fault. You were literally being threatened a minute ago, I shouldn’t have touched you. Sorry about that.”

“I’m panicking a bit,” Marinette says, pulling at the end of one of her pigtails. “I’m not usually...I just-I don’t want to be expelled.”

“You're not going to be expelled, Hermione,” Jason says dryly. “Yeah, those bastards are going to snitch but you were just defending yourself. They got what they deserved.”

“Do you think anyone’s going to believe that?”

Jason takes a moment to look Marinette over. There is so much earnest hope on her face that Jason...he feels really bad but... “Of course not. You kicked Pattrick Thomson in the balls, his dad’s on the school board. There is no fucking way any one of these teachers is going to believe that he actually got what was coming to him. No matter how much of a prick he is.”

“I’m doomed,” Marinette cries.

“You’re not doomed.” Jason catches Marinette’s look of pure utter disbelief and continues, “You’re not going to be expelled because you’re not the one who is going to be taking the fall for this.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” Jason says scooting down to sit next to Marinette. He makes sure to leave a good foot between them. One black eye is enough, thank you. “Unlike you, I won’t get expelled, trust me this isn’t anywhere close to my first fight. If they could have axed me, they would have like a month in. The good news is that this is the one corner of the school security cameras can’t see. So as long as we make our story sound believable, no one is going to question it.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re all going to find it sketchy when no one can agree on who threw the punch.”

“See you would think that but, no offense, you’re a literal wafer cookie. A strong breeze could blow you over. No one is going to believe you took down those idiots. Not when it’s so much easier to blame the one who’s admitting it.”

“I did take them down,” Marinette says, narrowing her eyes.

“And it was badass, but for this to work, we need to milk as many of their sexist assumptions as possible. So,” Jason starts, pressing his hand a little further against his eye, there’s a bit of blood slipping onto his fingers. Marinette got him good. “This is what we’re going to say. We’re going to keep it simple. Tell them that those guys were picking on you and I came over to see what was happening. Things got heated, Thomson punched me in the eye and I bumped into what’s-her-face. You were panicking and didn’t really pay attention until you saw me knee him in the balls. Short, sweet, and believable.”

“What are we going to say when they ask about why everyone is blaming me and not you?”

“Well, why were they bothering you in the first place.” Jason shrugs reaching out to grab some of the stray papers that had fallen from Marinette’s bag. “Just use that. Trust me, Thomson’s going to jump at the chance to save face. Once he changes his story the rest will follow.”

Marinette grimaces. “It feels wrong.”

“Please,” Jason snorts. “They’re rich, they’re cheating at life. They’d get away with murder if they dropped their wallets. You could tell them all exactly what happened word for word and the teachers would still only hear their side of the story.”

“That’s awful.”

“That’s Gotham.”

Marinette falters, as if she wants to dispute the inherent corruption of this city. She stares at Jason, who would probably be blushing if it wasn’t for the excruciating pain coming from his right eye.

“You’re sure.” Marinette bites her lip, nervously picking at her nails. “You’re absolute, one hundred and twelve percent sure you won’t be expelled.”

“I’m one hundred and sixteen percent sure,” Jason says and then Marinette smiles.

It’s a nice smile, Jason doesn’t think he’s ever experienced the full force of someone's relief before.

“Thank you.” Sincerity is dripping off every word, so much so it almost aches. “I-you’re really nice Jason.”

Marinette knows his name. That’s-not necessarily surprising given the act that yeah they do share classes, probably. It’s just this is the first time they’ve talked.

“It’s cool,” Jason says leaning further back into the wall. He can hear people coming, it won’t be long before they have teachers to deal with. Jason might as well get comfortable. “You’re Marinette, right? I think we have English….Math..something together.”

Marinette nods, scooting closer to him. “Yeah, I’m Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I sit three rows over in Math and two seats up in English.”

“It’s nice to meet you Marinette. Officially.” Jason takes the hand off of his eye and holds it out to her. “Jason Todd.”

Slowly, Marinette’s smile slowly morphs into a look of pure horror. “You’re eye!”

[astyle-alex]

[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

Heya! As we approach the End of 2020 (FINALLY), I’m realizing that this story is ridiculously close to reaching the milestone of 25k hits on Ao3. To celebrate, I’ll be posting the whole thing here on Tumblr!

(I would however, deeply appreciate it if y’all would pop over to view it on Ao3, briefly, so I can get the view counted as a hit and actually make it over the line for 25k in views before the close of 2020!)

Museum Mishap  |  Chapter 1/6

Fandom: the DC Universe, Batman & co. Pairings: Jay x Tim Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

Middle-School Tim Drake is on a field trip to the Science Museum, but with a WE exhibition of top-secret new technologies being staged in the basement, Tim separates from his classmates and breaks into the staff-only areas by using the skills he's developed over years of stalking Batman and Robin.

Current-Robin Jason Todd catches him in the act, but he's not there to confront Tim for trespassing or truancy - he's there because there's a rumor on the street that Tim Drake knows Batman's real name. And the rumor's gaining ground, quick, drawing in the wrong kind of attention.

When a Drug-Lord decides to take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap the little genius, Jason jumps into the crossfire. It all goes downhill from there. Fast.

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

Chapter 1 : Special Access

           A trip to Gotham’s History of Science and Technology Museum would’ve been exciting for even your average twelve year old – it was a day of school that didn’t feel like school, and it meant a chance to hang out, relatively unsupervised, with your friends all day instead of just the one or two classes you managed to luck into having together.

           Timothy Jackson Drake was not your average twelve year old, and a trip to the SciTech Muse was the kind of thing that made his enrollment in middle school entirely worth it. For starters, it was an entire day spent in the heart of the city surrounded by some of the coolest artifacts of science humans could craft.

           And to make things even better, the trip was an all-day, delayed opening affair, starting at 10am and ending at 6pm – which meant he’d actually been able to get enough sleep last night to be well-rested, a rarity in its own right with his particular extra-curriculars. Better yet, he’d been able to tell the Drake housekeeper / nanny that he’d be having dinner with his class so she could go home right at 6 without having to wait for him to get back so she could cook for him.

           That part wasn’t true, of course, but he had concrete evidence that had been legitimately published by the school to help back up his story. Mrs. Simz had her own kid, and was therefore harder to convince than some of the others Tim’s parents had hired, but that also meant she had more reason to hurry home when presented with a believable reason excusing it.

           Being a sixth-grader meant Tim couldn’t just stay in the heart of the city when the field trip was over, he was on a rollcall and the bus back to Gotham Academy wouldn’t leave without his name getting checked off. The high schoolers were allowed to take public transit home if they had a signed permission slip from their parents, but Tim had to wait a few more years before he could con his way into having such freedoms.

           Still, getting over to the West Side from where his school was in Coventry would be far easier than getting there from the Drake Estate way out in Bristol. The extra hour and a half he’d save himself in commuting time mean he would be able to grab some coffee and something to eat without having to rush to get in place for the nighttime adventure he’d planned.

           Beyond all that, the fact that the field trip was this week, meant there was a special exhibition from the cutting-edge tech division of Wayne Enterprises in the midst of being set up. All the main components were being staged in the museum's basement and the ones too big to steal were as close to unprotected as they would ever be – and Tim intended to take full advantage of that.

           He’d been summarily and repeatedly denied acceptance to the WayneTech summer camps as his parents owned one of the company's main competitors: Drake Industries. Apparently corporate espionage was a big enough problem that even ten year olds were suspect. Tim found it ridiculous that the one time he would’ve been entirely okay with having his abilities underestimated was the one time he wasn’t assumed to be just another dumb kid. Honestly, Tim was pretty sure that no one had actually read his application – the computer had probably scanned his ID and kicked his profile out of the running before it had even made it to a human that might care about his actual qualifications.

           Tim hadn’t figured out how to make a bulletproof fake identity profile – not yet, at least – And he certainly wasn’t going to get caught trying to gain illegal access to WE on a sub-par fake ID. Because there were all kinds of ways that would go poorly for him – between his parents possibly being disappointed in him enough to hire a live-in Nanny to the legal ramifications he’d face, even as a minor, it just wasn’t worth it.

           But the thought of getting an up-close look at the new tech WE was rolling out still made Tim's heart pound like he’d just downed a full pot of coffee. WE took a very different approach to developing their tech than DI – more of a ‘you know what would be cool? can we make that reasonable?’ philosophy than a ‘how do we solve this problem?’ sort of thing. Tim found the both the WE approach and their results utterly fascinating.

           Not that Tim had been allowed to play with much of DI's tech, being that his parents would hear about him attempting to gain unsupervised lab access, and promptly ground him, and anyone who might supervise treated him like a kid far too young to understand or unobtrusively observe the work going on inside the places he wanted to see.

           So, the fact that a spectacular spread of WE tech was set up in the basement of a rather glaringly unsecured staff only area in the very building Tim’s class was touring stood as an open invitation for Tim to investigate.

           An invitation that Tim took very seriously. He’d spent at least 18 hours over the past week examining the museum’s blueprints – courtesy of the Gotham City Hall Public Archives – And the rundown of the security, both in terms of the human guards and staff on-hand and the electronic countermeasures – via close examination of the extensive repertoire of ‘insider access’ videos on the museum’s own webpage. Tim would probably end up sending the museum an anonymous suggestion about adjusting that at some point, but he’d worry about that later.

           After he used it to his tech fantasy fulfillment advantage.

           For now, he simply slipped away from the unwatchful eyes of his teachers, stuck headphones in his ears, and carefully made his way – casually, calmly, and like he had no destination in mind – over to the hallway by the cafeteria near the east wing gift shop. The hallway that had restrooms and a staff-only door halfway down it. A door secured with a heavy-duty machine-lock, with a ten-digit keypad, but a door that was not alarmed.

           The human guards were always more focused on preventing shoplifters from stealing over-priced – for a good cause, but still over-priced – museum memorabilia than on the high-traffic restroom hall by the cafeteria. Using his headphones as an excuse to tap his fingers to keep count – while his eyes and most of his brainpower focused on evaluating targets – Tim tracked the museum employees on their lunch breaks and calculated the best option to use as his ticket backstage. He had some in mind, but he had contingencies for last-minute adjustment.

           Tim settled on a big guy whose name he’d read on staff profiles but had forgotten with the other useless information provided about his role in the marketing department. What Tim hadn’t forgotten about him was that his department’s office was right by the staff door he was eyeing – 4.5 meters down and to the left, to be exact – which meant that, even with his slow stride, he would be behind another door in the hallway approximately 17 seconds after the door Tim needed closed behind him.

           When Mr. Marketing got up and lumbered over to the trash, Tim sidled over towards an informational sign with a museum map. As Mr. Marketing passed him, Tim counted off 4 seconds before he turned around to follow. He slid his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the u-shaped metallic magnet he'd had to smuggle in by jamming it into his mouth and using sleight of hand to pretend it was his retainer – Less than sanitary, but effective, and he’d taken an extra vitamin this morning as a precaution.

           Mr. Marketing punched in his code and pulled the door open to well over 90° before he lumbered through the gap. Tim kept his pace consistent; patient, he could be patient – even though it made his heart rate kick up uncomfortably as he put his faith in his calculations instead of in his feet. He reached the door with almost 6 inches of clearance left for him to slide his hand in and clip his magnet into place over the latch.

           The door closed as he withdrew his hand and kept walking, but it did not click.

           The machine lock whirred with an attempt to close, but its components struck the flat surface of his magnet and failed to properly secure the door. Had the door been alarmed, that would have drawn a lot of unwanted attention, but as it was Tim made it to the restroom with almost nothing noticeably amiss.

           The restroom was crowded enough that his entrance didn’t draw attention and he shut himself in one of the stalls to count off exactly 10 seconds. Then he washed his hands, acquired a paper towel that he did not immediately dispose of, and went to retrieve his magnet. The paper towel allowed him to grasp the handle without leaving fingerprints and he retrieved his magnet without incident – opening the door onto an empty hallway and promptly swerving right to access the unsecured stairwell he knew would be there.

           Tim had no way to hide himself from the singular security camera watching the hallway, but the area was so highly trafficked that he doubted any security guard had been monitoring closely enough to spot his detour. He would get in a ton of trouble if he was caught here – phone calls to his parents would be unavoidable and they’d likely be so angry at him they’d fly back from Spain a week early. But he’d almost certainly avoid any kind of legal consequences.

           Besides, he wasn’t going to get caught. He’d planned this too well for that.

           Tim made his way through the less convenient passageways in the museum’s basement until he reached the corner of the sub-basement where the WayneTech exhibit was being staged. It was, as he’d known it would be, isolated and completely vacant of staff.

           A smile split his face as the relief he felt in making it there successfully was quickly replaced by the buzz of unadulterated excitement. He set his backpack down carefully – mindful, as always, of his precious camera. Then he rolled up his sleeves as he stepped closer to the first machine he saw with the WE logo stamped proudly on its side.

           According to the signage prepped in the binder sitting next to the behemoth, it was a component of the quantum computer WayneTech was developing to facilitate physically interactive virtual realities. Tim bounced on his toes as he warred with himself – half wanting to read more about the technical specs and half wanting to dive right in and see it for himself.

           Tim made it through another two pages of engineering details before he gave up and literally tackled the machine to hoist himself up high enough to look inside via the glass panel built in for that specific purpose. There were at least a dozen windows in the casing and Tim wondered – for a brief moment of distraction from the tech itself as he clambered higher up its exterior – how the museum was going to work in ramps and such for visitors to get the best views. If he didn’t get arrested tonight or banned from the museum forever, he might have to come back to see it in its full glory.

           He’d finagled his way to the last protrusion from top and was marveling at the neat rows of complicated wiring laid out below him when something crucial changed: he discovered that he was not, in fact, alone.

           “Ya know, I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here.”

           Tim really wanted to pretend he didn’t yelp like a kicked puppy when the sudden voice scared him half out of his skin, but the basement echoed enough for him to know it would be ridiculous to think the newcomer hadn’t heard him. Tim ducked his head in shame as his ears burned red and he turned to face whoever had caught him with hunched shoulders and guilty hands raised in surrender.

           And then he spotted his accuser on the floor and froze.

           It was Jason Peter Todd.

           Jason Peter Todd – Bruce Wayne’s new ward and the new Robin. And also kinda Tim’s neighbor. Well, as far as the word ‘neighbor' applied when your respective estates were so big it took an hour to hike door to door. Tim’s brain got caught in a loop of wondering what the frack Jason Peter Todd, of all people, was doing at the museum on a Thursday afternoon. Was doing down here, in this particular sub-basement, on a Thursday afternoon.

           Tim had fully been expecting to see the new Robin today, but that was when he was in full costume and wasn’t supposed to be for at least ten more hours. And Tim had not – in any of his contingencies – planned for Robin to see him.

           “Uh, hi,” Tim floundered.

           “Hi,” returned the crime fighting teenager Tim idolized and had been planning to stalk through Coventry later today. There was a glint in his eyes as he stared up at Tim with a smirk.

           They stared at each other in silence for way longer than could possibly be considered reasonable and Tim's ears resumed to burn at that, and at the distinct realization he had no idea what to say next.

           Because what exactly are you supposed to say when Jason Peter Todd catches you red handed in an off-limits part of a museum? Sitting on top of a piece of cutting edge computer engineering that you had absolutely no right to touch?

           “You're Tim Drake, aren’t you,” Jason asked – in a way that was definitely not really a question and also made it clear that Jason was laughing at him. “We met last month at the charity gala. I’m Jason.”

           “I remember, Mr. Todd,” Tim spouted, falling back on the robotic safety net of manners his mother had drilled into him. “Um, what brings you here?”

           “It’s just ‘Jason’, kid.” He jerked his chin at the machine Tim clung to, continuing, “That shit’s WayneTech. B sent me over to make sure it’s got all the right bits with it.”

           Tim nodded like a puppet, trying not to drown in his horror as he realized what it meant that Jason had caught him. He was messing with tech that Batman owned. There were probably a hundred undetectable BatSecurity features on this thing. Robin had probably been sent to see if someone was trying to steal it when one of Batman’s invisible alarms had gone off.

           “How about you, kid,” Jason asked, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his cargo pants. He regarded Tim with openly amused parody as he asked, “What brings you here?”

           “Field trip,” Tim responded automatically.

           “Field trip?” Jason echoed with an incredulous chuckle.

           He stared at Tim for another long moment and Tim stared back, terrified and unblinking and too tongue tied to substantiate his claim.

           “Alright then,” Jason said eventually, with a one shoulder shrug inside his leather jacket. “So, you got yourself stuck up there or are you gonna come have lunch with me?”

           “Lunch?”

           “Yeah, ya know, food. You eat it,” Jason explained. “I know I could use some pizza.”

           Tim frowned – at the confirmation of the non-sequitur of lunch plans, not the various insults attached to it.

           Jason seemed to falter briefly. “You actually stuck up there, Tim?”

           “No,” Tim huffed, willing to admit he sounded slightly petulant about it.

           “Well then get your skinny ass down here,” Jason prompted – a beat too late in a way Tim didn’t quite understand. He blinked, trying to puzzle out what didn’t sit right, but Jason arched an eyebrow – in the way Tim had seen him do as Robin, magically managing the expression despite the mask – and Tim realized he was supposed to be doing something.

           He was already in enough trouble as it was, so Tim scrambled down the computer and found himself face to face with the second Robin. Or face to chest, as it were.

           Tim hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, so he knew he was a scrawny twelve, but he hadn’t thought Jason would be that much taller. Jason was only two years older and he was stocky to start with. It was different when he’d been in the suit he’d worn for the charity gala. In civvies he looked broad and strong, and he stood up straighter.

           Jason pulled one hand from his pocket and threw his arm around Tim’s shoulders – began dragging him towards the exit. Tim lunged for his backpack as they passed it and clutched it close to his chest as Jason continued to drag him back upstairs.

           They ended up in the west cafeteria, in a corner that Jason had clearly selected for it’s state of semi-privacy. It was crowded and public enough to make raised voices problematic, but private enough to discuss sensitive details without much worry of being over heard. And it was neutral ground, like Jason was trying to make Tim comfortable before hashing out exactly how much trouble he was in for touching Batman’s stuff without express permission.

           Jason had acquired a large pizza, dripping with extra cheese and a blanket of peperoni, and two double-thick paper plates – one of which he piled high with three slices and placed in front of Tim. He gave himself five slices and settled down to chat having somehow already inhaled half of a sixth.

           “So,” Jason started around a mouthful of food as Tim poked tentatively as his own serving, “Some people are saying you’ve got some sort of connection to the Batman.”

           Tim frowned, his gaze snapping up to evaluate Jason.

           He’d spoken quietly, conspiratorially – like he wanted in on a secret Tim had. Like he wasn’t about to threaten to hang Tim by his thumbs in the depths of Batman’s secret lair for the rest of the foreseeable future.

           Awareness that Jason didn’t know that Tim knew his vigilante identity sparked inside Tim’s brain. He might be able to get out of this. If Robin didn’t know then Tim was only in trouble for touching the quantum computer because Batman didn’t want anyone touching it, and Jason was limited in how he could exact vengeance because the wrong move would reveal his role as Robin. All Tim had to do was talk his way out of this.

           Tim could do that. Right?

           All he had to do was figure out how.

           “I’m sorry I touched the quantum computer,” he blurted.

           Probably not like that.

           Tim hunched down into his shoulders and poked again at his pizza to avoid eye contact with Jason. His ears began to burn again as he felt Jason staring at him.

           “Shit, kid,” Jason said, after swallowing his bite this time, “You’re not in trouble.”

           Tim’s finger paused mid-poke. “I’m not?”

           “Nah,” Jason promised. “Fuck the Man.”

           Tim blinked. “Then why are you talking to me?”

           Jason blinked. A sort of confused expression that was vaguely pitying flickered across his face. Then he reiterated, “’Cause I hear you know who the Batman is, ya know, under the cowl.”

           Okay. So, Jason didn’t know he knew, but he suspected.

           Tim could work with that. Probably.

           He took a bite of pizza purely to keep himself from blurting anymore unhelpful apologies and attempted to calculate the best response.

           “Nobody knows who Batman is,” Tim said eventually.

           “But you’re a fan, right?” Jason nodded at Tim sweater – at the big black and yellow R embroidered on the left-hand side of the red-wool knitwork. Mrs. Davis had made this sweater for him, before her kids had insisted that she retire from babysitting rich Gotham kids and go be a grandmother in the safety and comfort of their town in Florida. Mrs. Davis had been one of the very few people who had supported Tim’s moderately obsessive interest in Batman and Robin.

           She hadn’t really understood, but Tim missed her – missed being able to talk about it.

           “You’ve gotta have some theories,” Jason was saying, his voice persistent enough to pull Tim back out from inside his own head.

           “I don’t have any theories,” Tim said. And it was true enough. He’d had theories. But that was before. Now, he had evidence. Another bite of pizza kept him from saying that out loud.

           “Seriously? None?”

           Tim shrugged and counted the circles of peperoni left on his first slice. Nine more circles, fifteen more bites. His stomach was already wary of the food he was putting in it. If this interrogation lasted more than ten bites, Tim’s stomach would probably begin to protest.

           Adamantly.

           He peeked up at Jason. Who was somehow already finishing slice number three.

           “Then why’s the word on the street that you’ve got insider know-how on ole Batsy?”

           “I dunno,” Tim said with another shrug. Truthfully, the question was bothering him too.

           Tim had never been seen when he’d staked out a spot to catch the dynamic duo on patrol or in the midst of a big bust. Never. They would’ve confronted him then and there if they’d ever found him with a camera full of very clear photos of them in action.

           So, how did Robin know enough to suspect him?

           “Who’d you hear it from?”

           This time, Jason shrugged. “I dunno. People. But like seriously, you don’t have any fucking idea why someone would think you know Batman’s real name?”

           Tim shook his head silently. He wanted to save his pizza for the questions that really needed him to have something to do with his mouth other than blabbing out his secrets.

           “Huh.”

           Jason’s eyes were narrowed, not quite threateningly, but pressingly – like he wasn’t quite sure a threat would be appropriate, but he was certain that Tim wasn’t telling the truth. It was another look Tim had captured him using as Robin. A kind of gentled-down BatglareTM for Robin to use on uncooperative victims instead of how Batman used his on uncooperative criminals – because victims could be uncooperative for all kinds of non-criminal reasons.

           Tim suddenly understood why it was so effective.

           He squirmed in his seat and caved to the need to take another bite of pizza.

           But he wasn’t a victim. Was he?

           Suddenly, Robin’s presence at the museum seemed a lot more suspect. It made sense for Robin to be there because Tim had triggered some sort of invisible Batalarm on the quantum computer, but he’d gotten there way too quickly for that to have been what brought him to the museum initially. He’d’ve had to have already been inside the building.

           But why?

           Tim’s class had been scheduled for this museum trip over a month ago. He’d even talked about it briefly with Bruce Wayne himself at the charity gala he’d attended with his parents – that’s how he’d known about the WayneTech exhibition far enough in advance to plan effectively to sneak down to the basements.

           “When’d you start hearing that rumor?”

           Tim’s question was so sudden and loud in his own ears that he startled himself.

           He seemed to have startled Jason too – who was starting on pizza slice number five and appeared to have been in the middle of a sentence when Tim had jolted into questioning him.

           “Uh, about a week ago, I guess,” Jason explained. “Your name had come up a few times before that in regards to you being a fan, but it wasn’t too long ago that it changed to you having special access or some shit.”

           Tim nodded absently.

           Two weeks ago, there’d been a major drug bust in a neighborhood just over half a mile away from his school. Batman had been tipped off about the drug ring in the same way Tim had: kids who came to school high rode the bus home and the chalk marks on the benches at the stops used by the kids who were using weren’t terribly sophisticated code.

           Tim had snagged some really spectacular shots the night that bust went down.

           Several of Tim’s classmates had exhibited symptoms of withdrawal shortly after that. A few of those students – namely some who’d never seemed to be able to have a civil conversation or simply let Tim pass in silence – had stopped exhibiting those symptoms a few days later. Tim had assumed they’d found a new dealer.

           Maybe they’d needed to find something more valuable to trade too, to make up for getting their old dealer busted.

           Info on the Bat who’d busted them would be pretty valuable.

           Even just a lead on info would’ve been valuable. Tim had been outright stalking Batman and Robin for over a third of his entire lifespan, at this point, and only just recently figured out who Batman really was. And he was a verified genius who’d happenstantially acquired the right life experiences to recognize things like quadruple somersaults. Who’d circumstantially idolized and stalked two different costumed acrobats for several years before he realized they were actually the same person and begun to extrapolate from there.

           Nobody knew anything about Batman.

           A tip on someone who might, would be very valuable indeed.

           Tim was being interrogated by Robin because he was a victim. He just hadn’t been victimized quite yet.

           Tim dropped his pizza like it’d burned him and began to rifle through his backpack for the new cellphone his mother had bought him when school started. It was ‘so he could fit in with his peers’. It was too big to fit in his pocket and he’d never liked wearing a watch, so he’d had to dig to find it and figure out the time.

           It was 4:32pm.

           Shift change for the guards was in less than an hour and they were already definitely antsy for it. Most of the science staff were already heading home to beat the traffic, and most of the new guards wouldn’t be coming in for at least another twenty minutes.

           If Tim were going to lead a team to invade this place and capture an unwilling potential asset, he would do it in the next ten to fifteen minutes.

           “We have to get out of here.”

           Jason frowned, his confusion pronounced with wary unease. But he demonstrated a willingness to trust Tim at his word for no other reason than Tim wanted him to and clambered to his feet. He took his last slice of pizza with him though – and nabbed the two untouched pieces from Tim’s plate as he followed.

           “What’s wrong, Tim,” Jason asked, carefully nonchalant. His hands were full of pizza in the way Tim’s mouth had been to stop him from doing what he wanted to do when asked a stupid question he should’ve known better than to answer – Tim suspected that if Jason wasn’t holding onto the pizza he’d’ve grabbed Tim’s shoulder at this point.

           Tim didn’t know how to answer at all, let alone efficiently communicate what he’d deduced about their current situation. Especially not without revealing that he knew Jason was Robin and could guess why Robin was here talking to him to begin with.

           Jason was rapidly eating though the pizza that was keeping him from grabbing onto Tim’s arm to stop their not-so-subtle scramble towards the museum’s main exit. They made it to within sight of the doors before Jason had inhaled the last piece of crust, and Tim had probably ignored several unheard comments and questions about their rapid egress, when Jason finally lost the battle to avoid physical contact and wrapped his hand around Tim’s elbow.

           Tim swung around to face him as his inertia asserted dominance.

           “Timmy, what’s got you so spooked?” Jason asked. “C’mon. You can tell me. Anything. I won’t rat on you, even if it’s something bad. Lemme help.”

           “I can’t – it’s not – You don’t,” Tim could practically feel the whine building in his voice at all the false starts that his brain attempted to send through his mouth to make the act of communication happen. His brain apparently thought it worked something like magic.

           Tim was frustrated and embarrassed and still very acutely aware of the fact that they needed to get out of the building. Right now.

           And Jason was doing the Robin look, the other one – the one for the scared little bunnies of the victims they came across that needed to be soothed and calmed and promised that they had a friend somewhere in the cold cruel world. Tim knew why it worked – felt it working on him – and yet he was mortified that Robin thought it necessary.

           He wasn’t a bunny. He was an asset. Currently being targeted.

           Recentered, he focused and forced words to come out of his mouth intelligibly.

           “We have to get out of the building.”

           Jason had moved to holding onto both of Tim’s shoulders at some point – holding him steady, holding him still. He looked Tim right in the eye and asked gently, “Why?”

           The words got jammed up in Tim’s throat again and he squeaked.

           And then the museum’s windows exploded inward with a dramatic shower of glass and gunfire as more goons than Tim could count began to repel their way inside.

           Tim closed his eyes and winced at the bite of regret on how fracking close they’d been to getting out of this without any major complications.

           “That’s why,” he groaned.

-----

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[vikingpoteto]

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 3 on AO3 ______________________

Relationships:  (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all. ________________________

When the cast comes off his leg, Jason sighs in relief. Casts are a bitch and he can’t believe he survived four weeks walking around like a zombie.

And, well, he technically is a zombie, but still.

The nurse barely has time to set aside the now useless pieces of cast before Jason eagerly stretches his arm. He tries not to take offense in the patronizing smile the man gives him. Jason supposes he isn’t the person acting like having their arm in a cast is hell  — because it is — but he can go without the little smirk, thank you very much. He would’ve removed the damn thing on his own, except it’s his dominant arm stuck in the cursed thing and he didn’t want to risk any new injuries. It’s the first time in over a month that he has no major wounds. And that’s considering that the pit gave him a faster healing rate than your average Joe.

“There’s a crack here,” the nurse comments.

“Hm. I had to fight a criminal. They were annoying, so I hit them with my cast,” Jason says.

The nurse gives him a forced chuckle as though he thinks Jason is joking. Or, well, that Todd Peters is joking. He doesn’t need to know Jason’s real name or that he’s completely serious. He must be new. They’re not in Gotham, but they’re close enough that having to beat a random crook with a cast shouldn’t be that outlandish.

The annoying noise of the saw fills the room again and Jason does his best to stay put. While telling Dick to fuck off after their fight had been satisfying  — a silver lining after having his ass handed back to him, if you must  — letting himself fall to what could’ve been his second death wasn’t Jason’s smartest move. And definitely not worth having to drag his own broken ass home, ruin his wounded body even more as he struggled to change into civies. Never mind having to face the humiliation of seeking a public hospital and pretending he had somehow walked away from getting hit by a bus. That had been fun, but he would not recommend it.

“There you go,” the nurse says. “You’re free as a bird, Mr. Peters.”

Jason flexes his fingers in relief. As a bird. What a joke.

When he walks out of the hospital with a medical bill that will most certainly never get paid  — although it’s tempting to send it to Wayne Enterprises just to let them know Jason is alive and now ready to kick their asses again  — he remembers the second time someone told him he could be Robin.

It had been Tim.

He hadn’t thought about that night in quite a while, mostly because he couldn’t believe it really happened. It was before they freaking sent him to Arkham, but after Jason got rid of (most of) the green mist in his mind that had him foaming at the mouth with unchecked anger. Robin swooped in right in the middle of one of Jason’s busts and somehow managed to knock out as many criminals as he protected from lethal shots. After they were done, he had approached Jason and deadass asked him if he would consider being Robin again.

Just like that. Jason thought he was joking.

Then Tim Drake, in all his 14 year-old glory, his voice still cracking a bit, deadpanned: “I only took over because someone had to. But now that you’re back, it only makes sense that you go back to your family.”

Jason was so stunned he doesn’t remember what he said next. Probably something about shooting the kid if he caught him in his territory again. He’s pretty sure the little shit rolled his eyes at him before jumping off the roof. Jason had the distinct feeling that Bruce never heard about that small mishap.

For quite a while, Jason tried his hardest not to think about what he left in Gotham. It was hard when he was too injured to move, but books helped him through it, as always. Now, however, he was free as a robin and he has a decision to make: what is he going to do next?

The trip to the shitty motel he’s staying at takes no time at all, his feet getting him there while his mind was elsewhere. He’s thinking so hard of Gotham that at first he thinks he’s losing his marbles when he sees a familiar face. Jason freezes on his tracks.

Tim Drake is casually leaning against Jason’s door. He tilts his head to the side and cocks an eyebrow in challenge, as though letting him know that he is very much real and not an hallucination.

“How the fuck —” Jason starts. Then he decides against it. “You know what? I don’t want to know. Forget you found me.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “I happen to have a really good memory, though.”

“It sure doesn’t look like it, considering it seems you forgot I tried to kill you last time we saw each other.”

“You mean when you could’ve killed me, but you didn’t?”

It takes all of Jason’s flimsy self-control not to punch him. Tim stands there, his arms still crossed, his eyebrows vanishing under his too-long bangs, and it’s almost as if he’s daring Jason to hit him, to lose his cool. Doing so would be letting him win and Jason isn’t about to do that.

He has half a mind to appreciate the fact that Tim had been waiting for him in the hallway, though. Even Dick hadn’t been that considerate in the past, always favoring the good old breaking into people’s homes like Bats taught them. It annoys him to no end that the kid somehow always knows what little things will mulify Jason.

“I just wanna talk,” Tim says.

“I haven’t been active lately”

Tim doesn’t even flinch. “That’s a lie.”

“How did Dick find me?” Jason groans.

“He didn’t. I did,” still in that annoying flat voice.

“And you want me to believe he didn’t follow you?”

“I don’t think so, since I haven’t seen him in a month.”

That catches Jason’s attention. He considers the boy in front of him. Rumor has it that Tim Drake manages to be even more elusive than the rest of them, and Jason believes that.  He believes that a child that stalked Batman and Robin for so long is nothing short of impressive. He heard Tim was the only person able to lie to Batman.

Something makes him think Tim isn’t lying now.

With a sigh, he fishes the keys from his pocket and opens the door. Pretends not to see the kid’s annoyingly cocky smile.

Jason doesn’t know much about Tim other than his M.O. as Robin and parts of how he joined the Bat cult. He knows he was already a rich kid before becoming Robin, but if the kid has any reaction to Jason’s crappy hotel room, he doesn’t show.

Jason drops on the couch with a groan. Tim stands around with a blank expression and, if Jason didn’t know any better, he’d think the kid is nervous. He gestures at the empty mismatched armchair by his side, and only then does the kid take a seat. Silence stretches.

“So? You said you wanted to talk. Talk.”

It’s almost impossible to notice, but Tim takes a slow breath before starting: “When we fought… you asked me to be your Robin,” he says. “Did you mean it?”

Jason quirks an eyebrow up. “What kind of question is that?”

“Did you seriously consider taking me as a sidekick?” Tim insists. “It’s a yes or no question.”

Jason sits back and crosses his arms, keeping his expression schooled into something neutral. He hadn’t thought about that night  — at least not on purpose  — since then. However, in the fleeting moments his mind forced him to relive it, he couldn’t help but think about his spur of the moment offer. Because that’s what it had been. An impulsive thought.

However…

“I meant it,” he says, his voice neutral. “In our field, it’s a pain to work alone. I know you have skills, so having you work for me would’ve been useful.”

And that’s the truth, or at least most of it. Tim presses his lips into a tight line and nods slowly, as though he’s readying himself for something.

“And you still think that?”

“What kind of game are you playing, Replacement?” Jason snaps.

“I’m not playing anything. I’m here to offer you my services, sort of.” Tim gives him a crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We can go over my resume, if you want.”

Jason’s chin drops. He can’t help it. His stunned silence lasts long enough that Tim’s fake smirk slips from his face and, despite his best efforts to keep the cool facade, Jason can see he’s distraught somehow.

“You said that that would mean working for a psychopathic killer,” Jason reminds him.

“I remember distinctly saying sure, why not? to your offer, too. Also you called me worse things, you don’t get to be sensitive about name calling now.”

“Why?” Jason presses.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Tim deflects.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second.”

Jason sighs. “You suck at job interviews.”

“To be fair, I’m a trust fund baby. I’m not supposed to go through job interviews.”

Jason sighs. He doesn’t know what to think. On one hand, he is a detective. He was trained to recognize lying, to know when he’s being played with. On another, the boy in front of him isn’t your everyday crime alley crook, but an equal. Maybe superior, in some circumstances. He could have a plan inside a plan to completely fuck Jason over  — and he kind of should, considering Jason almost killed him a couple of times… and Damian… and Dick.

“What does Bat 2.0 think of you switching career paths?”

“Again, I haven’t seen him in a month.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that. I haven’t kept close tabs on what’s happening in Gotham, but I know Batman and Robin are still active.”

Tim hesitates. Jason waits patiently. Finally, a little annoyance in his voice betraying his frustration, the younger boy admits:

“Dick fired me. There’s a new Robin.”

Jason snorts. “You’re fucking with me.”

Tim looks down, saying nothing.

Jason starts laughing out loud. “Oh my God, you’re shitting me right? So the Replacement has been replaced! And you decided to come to me of all people for a new job? You want us to be Evil Batman and Evil Robin to good ol’ Bitchard?”

It’s funny, if you think about it. The Robin that got killed and the Robin that got dumped, joining forces to represent failure as the holier than thou golden boy becomes the epitome of heroism. He can’t stop laughing.

Jason expects Tim to get angry. He expects Tim to lash out and tell him to fuck off, say that he knew coming here was a waste of time and storm off. The longer Jason’s mockery goes, however, the quieter the boy gets. His expression is carefully empty, although there is an unnameable storm behind his gaze. Sometimes, Tim is so similar to Bruce  — stoic, a mind like a maze, a smug little shit - Jason forgets about all the ways in which he’s Bruce’s complete opposite. Tim doesn’t do lashing out. Not usually, at least.

When Jason’s hollow laughter dies, the kid is sitting there as though nothing phases him. Not because he is a big bad bat with no emotions, but because he knows better than to show them.

The older boy breathes out slowly. “Alright, I’ll bite it. What exactly are you thinking, Pretender? Be brief and straight, I don’t have all day.”

There’s a beat. The kid is clearly trying to organize his ideas. That’s a first. Little Timmy usually has a plan from the get go.

“I want to be useful,” he says. And that’s the truest thing Tim said all day. There is something raw in his voice that grabs Jason’s attention. Something that Tim hides before Jason can name it. “You said it yourself. We can do better if we work  together. Not as Batman and Robin, of course not. Just as ourselves.”

Jason crosses his arms and starts tapping a finger to his arm. “I don’t believe you’re planning on killing anyone.”

“Good, because I’m not going to.”

“Then? You’re gonna watch while I do the dirty job? Or you think you can stop me?”

There’s a subtle quirk of Tim’s lips. Jason curses inwardly knowing the little satisfied smirk is there because Jason is negotiating. As though he already accepted this insane proposition.

“I don’t think I can stop you every time,” Tim concedes. “We can make a deal, though. With me by your side, you won’t have to resort to murder that often. You promise me you’ll only kill if there’s no other way and, in exchange, I promise you I’ll make sure your cases will be solved a lot faster.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone that just got fired,” Jason deadpans.

“I got fired a month ago.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone that’s been sitting on their ass for a month.”

“I was actually working with the League of Assassins.”

That gives Jason a pause. “I’m sorry, you were what ?”

“There was a case I couldn’t solve on my own. Dick wouldn’t help. Ra’s did.”

“And, what, after working with Ra’s freaking Al Ghul you just decided it was time for a change of scenery?”

“I mean, for starters I like you a lot more than Ra’s. Second, Ra’s kinda fired me too.”

“Again, you’re really bad at this job interview thing.”

Tim smirks. “To be fair, I took everything I needed then ruined a lot of League business before bailing on him, so…”

And then there is that. Jason can count on one hand the things he knows about Tim Drake. One, he found out the identities of Batman, Nightwing and Robin II at age nine. Two, he was a rich kid and neighbor to the Waynes and now he has no family left, just like Jason. Three, he is annoyingly perfect and it makes Jason feel like shit. Four, he is the most unpredictable little shit to ever exist.

And last but not least, he trusts Jason. Jason doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know if that makes him stupid or a genius in a way mere mortals can’t comprehend. Nonetheless, he has this unshakeable faith in Jason like no one had before. Not even Dick, who was supposed to be his brother. Jason doesn’t know what to make of it.

“So Ra’s is after your stupid ass and you want me to be your bodyguard?”

“When Ra’s comes for me, I’ll have a plan to deal with him. Whether you’re a part of it or not, that’s up to you. Don’t worry about it for now.”

He sounds like he has everything under control. Jason knows how to sound like that, too. All of the batlings do. Their entire lives they’re just playing it cool, looking dark, brooding and mysterious while inside they have no idea what’s going on nor how they’ll survive.

“Come on,” Tim says, rolling his eyes. “You worked with back up and you worked alone. You know which one is better.”

“I’m a literal crime lord,” Jason reminds him.

“That’s not the same. Having someone that knows who you are behind the mask makes all the difference in the world.”

Neither of them are addressing the elephant in the room, though. The biggest question looming over them. That’s also a bat thing. Both are aware, none speaks of it, and a taste of something unsolved is making their mouths bitter. The worst part is that they know the answer, even if it’s left unsaid, but do they really? Are they really arrogant to assume they know each other enough, that they’re smart enough to be aware of the truth?

Why did you offer to take me in?

Why do you want to join me now?

Two questions. One answer.  

“I’ll think about it,” Jason says.

Tim’s smile is blinding. He knows a backhanded yes when he hears one. “I’m looking forward to hearing from you, Hood.”

“Piss off before I shoot you.”

Tim snickers and stands to leave. Jason keeps listening after the door closes, after the footsteps vanish down the hallway. He can still hear the sounds of traffic down the street, maybe the indistinct chatter from the neighbors. It still feels too quiet and the egg sized apartment could as well be as big as a manor after Tim leaves.

The answer to both questions is I don’t want to be alone anymore .

[wickedgxmes]

-

&&. cauldron above, ( Hiro Tanaka ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( he ) is/are affiliated with ( summer court ). ( he ) is a(n) ( 96/ Appears 26 ) year old ( warrior fae ). it’s been said that ( he ) resembles ( booboo stewart ). ( he ) has been said to be ( compassionate & devoted ) but also quite ( cautious & secretive ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( minor lord of summer court ).

basics:

Full Name: Hiroshi Tanaka

Nickname: Hiro

Sexuality: Bisexual

Species: Warrior Fae

Family Relations: Tadashi Tanaka (father - warrior fae; deceased), Sheila Todd (mother- nymph), Kiera Tanaka (daughter - NPC), Kali Jelani (mother of his child- human; deceased); He has a step mother and bunch of half siblings and cousins

bio:

tw death

Hiro Tanaka had always been a fun-loving and kindhearted fae. Although he had been raised from a young age to take over his father’s stead as a minor lord of the court, Hiro has never been one to discriminate. Maybe it was because he was the product of an affair with the Thorn who had been sent to seduce to his father, but he had never been one to judge other’s on that of their generics alone. Growing up, he used to go out of his way to be kind to the indentured servants his strict father had brought to their household. He’d often sneak them his monthly allowance or sneak off into the servants quarters after dark to check on them when his father made a big show as to discipline them. But, Hiro didn’t just sneak down to the staff’s quarters solely out of his own generosity, but also to stay out of his father’s wife’s way. The woman always looking at him with a gaze of distain or muttered about how he would disgrace their family and, maybe, to some degree she was right.

The Tanaka family was known far and wide for their business in liquor. From sake to beers to wines, their family trades and deals in it all. It is rare not to find a bottle of Tanaka wine at a local restaurant or tavern even in the most far away courts. Not to mention, they run and operate one of the most notorious bars within the Summer Court called Venom, where rumor has it, speakeasy style backrooms can be rented out to be used for everything and anything from gambling to a place where nobles or outlaws can discuss politics in secret. And although, Hiro took to the night life, his father questioned if he truly had the backbone to take over his position in Court. Only, Tadashi Tanaka would be around long enough to find out. He was already an older fae by the time Hiro was born and, by the time Hiro was reaching adulthood, Tadashi passed away and, as Hiro stepped up to the plate, what his step mother had been so worried about came to fruition- change.

First, Hiro released all of the servants of their debts. He offered each and everyone of them the opportunity to stay and work for him where he would treat them as one of his own. But, if they would prefer to go, he would offer them a sum of money to help them off on their way. Next, he step his step mother up in a small, but nice estate of her own along with his younger half siblings of his step mother who were also reaching of age. 

Then he went to work, immersing himself into the trade his father had spent years cultivating and become more and more akin to the nightlife, leaning on the servants whom to decided to stay to help guide him. Hiro was goofy and a bit too dorky at times for his own good, but luckily he had people he could fall back on to help keep him accountable and the one person who helped him the most out of anyone was Kali Jelani. 

She was a human whom he had recently hired and one thing quickly led to another and before Hiro knew it, he had knocked her up. His father had always preached about taking responsibility and yet, he had let himself become careless and he worried how it might effect Kali. He wanted to make things right. He wanted the beautiful woman whom had given him so much strength to know that he would step up and so he asked her to marry him. A minor lord and human would have been a huge scandal, but he didn’t care. Only, she did. Kali didn’t want to hurt his reputation and hoped that this way she might be able to give her baby a better life, so she turned him down. She would continue to work for him and they would keep their baby a secret until their daughter was born. No one wouldn’t have to know but the servants and then they could pretend that the child was the product of him and another fae so that their daughter would have to worry about her human heritage being a problem. 

Only things didn’t quite go as planned. Kali had complications with the pregnancy and ended up passing not shortly after childbirth and, after her passing, the young fae felt lost. Hiro didn’t know the first thing that came with raising a daughter and with impending War to come, Hiro is afraid that his kid could be used against him. Because of this, Hiro is very secretive when it comes to his family. He loves his family more than anything and will do anything to protect them which is why very few even know of their relation. He rarely invites people over, preferring to travel to different locations than to invite people into his abode. 

Hiro is still laid back and warmhearted, but he keeps people more at a distance than he did before. After the deaths in his life, he prefers not to be too involved in politics, believing that even fae’s lives can be easily taken from you as is. He’s not a fan of war and cares little about which courts are rivals and which are not, often spending his free time amongst the merchants or in the Neutral territory, feeling that the different courts’ energies would be better spent preparing for the Solstice than being at each other’s throats.

[huilian]

Flameo, Batman!

AO3 Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain (Plus minor Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, and Alfred Pennyworth)

Summary :Bruce was kidnapped. Bruce Wayne was kidnapped, which means he can’t save himself because everyone still thinks he is a harmless non-bender. Incidentally, it is also why Dick is here in Gotham, as Nightwing, staking out this warehouse.

A/N: Written for batfamweek 2020, day 1! The prompt was meta AU, but I wanted to play with ATLA AU for so long that I decided ATLA AU was close enough to them having meta powers. There’s also some overprotectiveness here, so, I guess, you can count that? Anyways, enjoy! 

title is, of course, from ATLA

Bruce was kidnapped. Bruce Wayne was kidnapped, which means he can’t save himself because everyone still thinks he is a harmless non-bender. Incidentally, it is also why Dick is here in Gotham, as Nightwing, staking out this warehouse. 

Even Babs, with all her Oracle magic, can only narrow the possible sites to five different locations, and, as Damian is not old enough to do a stakeout alone, Dick came to Gotham to help with the stakeout. When the almighty Oracle can only narrow the possible sites of holding to five locations instead of her usual one-shot hit, you know that these people are at least good at what they do. They even have all their possible holding sites away from large bodies of water, which tells Dick two things about these kidnappers. One: they did enough research and have enough sense of self-preservation to know that the Bats have waterbenders in their ranks, and two: they do not have any waterbenders in their own ranks, or at least not one good enough to offset the advantage they would be giving the Bats by staying close to water. 

“Is it time to burst in yet?” Jason’s voice said from Dick’s comm. “I’m getting tired of waiting.” 

“I thought it was firebenders who are rumored not to have patience, Hood, not waterbenders,” Damian retorts. 

“Hey too, Robin! I’m a waterbender!” Stephanie cries out. Dick really should not have given all of them the same frequency for the comms, because he knows this would happen, but they would eventually figure out which frequency the others use anyways, and this would also happen. Dick decided to just save them, and him, the trouble and gave all of them the same frequency. At least this way he won’t have to switch between frequencies before they all collectively decide on which frequency to use. 

“Tt. My point exactly.” 

Dick sighs. “No, it’s not time to burst in yet. Agent A is going to give the signal, remember? We’re trying the nice way first.” 

Jason scoffs. It is really amazing how he could get that to transfer over the comms. “Why are we still doing the nice way first? When, in your nearly two decades of kidnapping experiences, have the nice way ever worked?” 

Jason does have a point, but Dick is not going to tell him that. The nice way, which is trying to negotiate with the kidnappers, only worked in about never. But the nice way is how the Waynes’ reputation of being a harmless rich family stays intact, and so they are going to always do the nice way first. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you see it, Alfred’s voice crackles through the comm at that particular moment. “They do not accept our, frankly, generous offer. It seems we have to use force after all.” 

“Ha!” Jason cries out. “Told you so, N!” 

“Yeah, yeah, Hood,” Dick says. “Everyone knows what they’re supposed to be doing?” 

There is a smattering of agreements from everyone, which Dick expected. His siblings may bicker and generally cause havoc that Dick would then have to sort out, but they do their job with a professionalism that is really unparalleled, especially when it is someone of their own on the line.

“Alright then. Everyone has to go in at the same time, or this won’t work.  If you have the jackpot, call it out on the comms. If you do not have the jackpot, immediately go and help the person has. Clear on that?” 

Another smattering of agreements. Okay then, Operation-Save-Bruce-From-A-Kidnapping-Attempt Number too many to count is a go. “On my count. One, two, three!” 

Dick hears glass crashing from one of the lines. Why do his family have to be so dramatic? But the best way into Dick’s warehouse from where he’s perching now is through the window, so Dick really doesn’t have much to stand on here. 

Dick jumps from his perch, bends the trace amount of metal on his suit to his toes, protecting them from broken glass, and breaks the glass window. At the same time, he wills the earth underneath his legs to raise up to meet him. People don’t expect Nightwing to be an earthbender because his fighting style is more like those of airbenders, so sometimes Dick doesn’t start bending until the very end of a bust, just to give himself that extra advantage. But these guys know about waterbenders within the Bats’ ranks, which a lot of people don’t know, so Dick is pretty sure they knew already that Nightwing is an earthbender. Might as well use it to his advantage. 

“Mine’s not it,” Jason says through the comms. 

“Not it.” That is Cass

“Not here either.” Steph. 

Dick scans the warehouse he is in. Thirty men, armed and armored. Their armor is not even metal, which goes to show that this group really knows about the Bat’s bending. All of them are aiming to where Dick is right now. 

“I’m it,” Dick says into his comm while changing the shape of the boulder he just ripped from the earth. He bends it so that it would cover him from the thirty guns all firing at him while allowing him to look around for Bruce. 

“You should have said so sooner, Nightwing.” 

“Damnit, Robin, I’m driving. You’re not old enough!” 

“And your driving skills are not up to par, Red, so I will be driving to get us to Nightwing’s location as soon as possible.” 

This is Dick’s life. Trying to shut down a fight between his brothers while he is literally being shot at. “Robin, let Red drive.” 

“Tt.” 

Dick can tell that Damian is not entirely pleased with that order, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything else into the comms, which Dick took as him acquiescing to the order. That allows Dick to actually focus on his job, which is finding Bruce inside this warehouse. 

Even though the men did not wear metal armors, they somehow forget their guns and bullets are still made of metal, which Dick can bend. It’s really lucky that Dick is the one who found where Bruce is being held because none of the others can bend metal. 

From behind his boulder, Dick allows his senses to find all the guns in the room. Then, he jams them. Dick lets the final round of bullets hit his boulder and then listens to the curses that all the men are letting out. It’s really satisfying when the perps realize that their guns are not working anymore.

There he is. Dick spots Bruce handcuffed to a pillar at the very end of the warehouse. If he were being Batman, Bruce could have easily picked the lock for that handcuff. But he is not, and it is Dick’s job to save him. Divested of their guns, these men should not be that much of a challenge. 

Dick goes out of this protective boulder, and smiles. Yeah, these men look terrified with their guns out of commission. This should be fun. 

*

Dick is halfway through fighting the men when he hears a motorcycle coming into the warehouse. Jason, most likely. His place is the closest to Dick’s. 

Gunshots. Jason, confirmed. Dick can’t feel bullets flying through the air, so Jason must be using rubber bullets. That’s nice. Dick is hoping to avoid a conversation with Bruce after this is all over. (He does not have the time to check which bullets Jason is carrying before they have to move. If Bruce knew about that, there would be conversations to be had, and Dick doesn’t want that when he already has to work twice as hard tomorrow because he misses a night in Bludhaven.) 

Jason being there does help, though, because now Dick can almost reach Bruce. It’s really annoying to have to ‘rescue’ someone who is perfectly capable of rescuing themselves but can’t because they are keeping their identity intact. Dick should know, he’s been in both roles. Dick glances up to Bruce, trying to silently tell him to be patient and let Dick come to him, when he is tackled by Jason. Jason, who took the knife that was aiming for Dick. 

“What the hell, Hood? I knew that knife was coming, I could feel it. It’s made of ceramic.” 

“No thanks, N? I’m hurt.” Jason lets go of Dick to stand back up. “Ouch, the knife just went in deeper.” 

“No shit, Hood. Wait, why is everyone on the ground already?” 

There is no one left attacking the two of them when Dick could have sworn that there are at least several perps still standing when Jason tackled him to the ground. Then he sees Bruce, out of the handcuff, striking the last of the men. 

Of course it’s Bruce. Dick should have known that Bruce would not be able to sit still once he saw one of them injured. It’s really sweet of him, but if he keeps doing it, then they might as well just threw the whole ‘secret identity’ thing to the garbage. Everyone is going to know that Bruce Wayne is capable of a really scary hand-to-hand, and then questions will be asked. And it was Bruce who insisted on the secret identity thing in the first place. 

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, old man.” 

“Agent A won’t be happy about the knife wound, Hood,” Dick says. 

“As long as he still heals it, I’m okay with that,” Jason shrugs. Then cries out, because shrugging when you have a knife in your shoulder is really not a good idea. 

Dick sighs. “Okay, you,” he points to Bruce, “are staying here until the police arrive and they can take your statement, which I don’t know why they bother, at this point. I’ll stay here with you until the police arrive, let them see me for a bit, and then leave. You,” Dick turns to Jason, “are hitching a ride with whoever is here next to the Cave, and you are going to let Agent A heals that shoulder. Okay?” 

It is then that Cass and Steph come to the warehouse. They were not stationed near each other, at least not near enough that they could justify coming to Dick’s station together. Worse, each of their stations is further away from this warehouse than Tim and Damian’s station and they still manage to reach this place, together, earlier than Tim and Damian. 

“Why are you here together?” Dick asks Cass and Steph. 

They both shrug, but Steph actually elaborates. “From the sound of it, you two were handling this well enough. So me and Cass decides to just meet up and come here together, to avoid the disaster Robin duo.” Steph stops then, realizing that neither Tim nor Damian is present. “Wait, are we still earlier than the two of them?” 

Dick sighs again. “Batgirl, take Hood to the Cave to get healed by Agent A. Black Bat, please keep an eye on Hood and make sure he actually gets to the Cave.” 

Steph mock-salutes him. “You got it, boss.” Then, she frowns. “Wait, you’re not the boss anymore.” 

“Batgirl, please?” 

“Fine, fine! And you say I don’t do enough for this family.” 

“Literally no one ever says that,” Jason mutters. 

“Just, get him to Agent A. Please, BB?” Dick changes his tactics.

Cass smiles. It is not the smile that Dick wanted to see. That smile promises havoc. Why are his siblings like this again?

“A good time to start learning healing, huh, Batgirl?” Jason taunts. 

“Learn healing yourself, Hood! You’re also a waterbender!” 

“Enough! Come on! Just, go to the Cave and ask Agent A to heal you! It’s literally that simple, Hood. You don’t even have to do it if you had just let me handle that knife.” 

“Is this the repayment I get for saving your life?” 

“You didn’t save my life. I can literally feel that knife coming towards me. I’m an earthbender and that knife is made of ceramic, which is earth.” 

“And yet you didn’t bend it away from you until I have to intercept it.” 

Dick puts his hand to his head. Then, turning to Bruce, he says, “This is your fault. You’re the one who decides to give me siblings.” 

Bruce’s face is deadpan. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nightwing. How could I, Bruce Wayne, a harmless non-bender, be able to decide who becomes your siblings?”

Steph is the first one to laugh, but Jason and Cass are not far behind. Dick would be the first to admit that Bruce being sarcastic is absolutely hilarious, especially while he is being Brucie Wayne, but it does not help Dick in this situation. Which, come to think of it, is saving Bruce from a situation he could have easily saved himself from. 

Screw it. Dick is washing his hands of this situation. “You know what, Mr. Wayne? Since this holding place has been secured, I’m going to leave you to the capable hands of Batgirl and Black Bat.” Dick smiles sweetly, which he is sure that Bruce knows is fake. “I’ll let them deal with the GCPD for a change. Oh, and I’m sure the Robins are going to be here any minute, and they are also very capable crimefighters. Between the four of them, I’m sure you are in good hands, Mr. Wayne. Good night.” 

Dick can see the panic in Bruce’s eyes. Steph is notorious for trying to get a rise out of Bruce, and with Bruce being in the Brucie Wayne identity, he would have no way of reigning Steph in. Cass would just help, because Cass is sometimes evil that way. Add the two feuding Robins in the mix, and Bruce had just gotten himself a very explosive mix indeed. 

“Wait, Nightwing…” 

“Good night, Mr. Wayne. Hood, if you’re not coming with me right now, I’m going to leave you to ride that motorcycle alone back to the Cave with that knife still in your shoulders.” 

“Jeez, alright ‘Wing, I’m coming.” 

Alfred would find himself with, at the very least, two patients tonight. God knows what Damian and Tim have gotten themselves into. Well, they are Bruce’s problem now. After Jason has been taken care of, Dick is going to ask Alfred to work his amazing healing bending on him, because this mission with his family is really making his headache flare again. 

(At this rate, either Jason or Steph really needs to learn healing, because poor Alfred is always being asked to heal something or another.) 

[jarofrebuke-transcripts]

Jar of Rebuke Episode 5 Unofficial Transcript

Season 1 Episode 5: Perfect Attendance

INTRO

The following audio recording is classified documentation for Case [audio distortion] with the Enclosure. Unauthorized access to this information will lead to immediate intervention. Progress further if proper clearance has been given.

TODD

Hey Jared, it's Dr. Carmen. Listen, I know you asked to cash in on some of that paid time off you've got, but I wanted to let you know that I couldn't fulfill your request quite yet. There's one little thing I need you to look into for me first. There's some circulating rumors of a former teacher causing some trouble at the local school. I say former because she's been dead for about a hundred years or so. I don't know the exact details yet besides what Dr. Rahal heard- footprints with no source, flying clocks, startled janitors- you know the drill. So I need you to go and investigate. Since you're just so good with those little kiddos that come by your place at night, I figured you'd be even better with some actual kids. And since you've been doing a little personal community outreach, why not put that to use? Now go see what you can figure out and report back to me, then we can discuss that vacation time of yours. Oh, also you're welcome for the plumbing fixture, by the way. I know you've been too busy to stop by with a proper thanks, but I'm just glad we could get that all fixed up for you. Well, I'll keep an eye out for your report by the end of the week. See you around.

JARED

“Oh you're welcome for the plumbing fixture, by the way.” Oh, geez Louise, I literally never asked them to fix my plumbing. I called it- now he's gonna hold that over my head for gods-know-how long. I know that some folks say that being motivated by spite ain't the best way to live but it's a real hell of a motivator. I don't plan to delete this voicemail till I get that chat about time off because if I get brushed out about that PTO again after everything, I'm going to remind them that he guaranteed me a talk about it. I mean he normally sends me out over the dangerous stuff, but this was just tedious. More like Todd just wanted to send me out on an errand and just threw me out over the first thing that he could. I mean, considering that I drowned a few weeks ago, this was expected to be a bit of a piece of cake. While it wasn't life-threatening, it was annoying. And draining.

So today, I just so happened to bump into the principal of the local school. I know that she goes to the Chronicle Inn’s country store a lot, especially during her lunch breaks. So I went in the afternoon and spent some time there talking with Ester and Laura as I waited for her to arrive. Ester was wearing a really lovely dress and a floral apron, the pale pink accented her gray hair really nicely. And Laura was already in her denim overalls and plaid flannel. Apparently she was wanting to get some woodworking done in her workshop, but then she decided to stay in and help Ester out with managing the shop for the afternoon rush, you know, since all the folks started pouring in on their lunch breaks. And that afternoon rush was what I'd waited for because that's when Mrs. Anika Ralsh showed up. We haven't really ever talked much, just enough to get to know each other's names and general identities. So when she saw me she greeted me with a small smile and a wave. She asked how I'd been doing, you know, what I'd been up to, the usual. I had planned on how I was going to broach the subject of the haunting in the school considering that it's not exactly something that just, uh, comes up naturally in conversation. I needed to find some inconspicuous way to shift focus to, to that topic in a way that wouldn't trigger too many red flags. But then she dropped the bombshell on me!

She said that she'd spoken to Darius and that he mentioned that I had some curiosity with the supernatural, which was weird because I remember mentioning that passively to him like once when I panicked when he asked me what I do for a living. And that was a while ago. I'm shocked that he remembered. So I basically told her what I told him. Yeah, I'm a scientist who studies natural phenomena around here but I also have an interest in supernatural phenomena but that's more of a hobby. Which is a boldface lie, but far more acceptable than the truth. The script in my head of how the conversation would go was now entirely thrown off which did, in all honesty, throw me completely off my rhythm. But she actually got far more to the point than I would have planned to so I guess it worked for the best.

Anika said that she hadn't been sure who to reach out to about this, but when Darius had mentioned me she thought it'd be worth a shot to ask me to look into things. That there's a ghost of a deceased teacher that keeps stirring up trouble at the local school. It was a former teacher who taught fifth graders back in like the 80s or something like that. She taught up until the day she died, and she's rumored to still linger around. But she's been getting more disruptive than before and it's getting a bit out of hand. So, Anika asked me if I knew a way to get this ghost to calm down, but to not get rid of her. Apparently this Mrs. Alice Caller has been a part of the school community for so long that even if she scares or startles people sometimes they don't really want her gone. She startles the staff more than anything, the teachers and all that. But the students seem to get a kick out of it. Every building has their character after all, that's what Anika said. And I guess you could consider a haunting to be a splash of character.

Anyways, so yeah, after chatting for a bit and pretending that I had my knowledge of ghosts and hauntings due to at-home research and not my nine to five, even if it's more of a six to five. I told her I could investigate, but I'd probably want to do it when there weren't, you know, students in the halls? She'd asked if I was free literally that evening and considering Todd was basically holding my paid time off as hostage I said of course. I mean the sooner I got it done the sooner I could have some sort of vacation. As preemptive compensation, she bought me lunch which was really nice and told me to come by school after I finished eating. She took her food to go, but I stayed and ate there at the end and chatted with Ester and Laura a bit more. I also texted Darius and asked if he told Anika about my supernatural interests. He said yes and apologized if he shouldn't have told her but I said that it was fine, that I was mostly surprised that he'd remembered. I'd mentioned it a while back and we really don't ever talk about it, so the fact that he remembered... it was sweet. I mean especially considering I let him do most of the talking in conversation. He has a nice voice and tells really nice stories. I was flattered more than anything.

After I ate and played some mindless puzzle games on my phone I headed out towards the school. If I'd really wanted to I could have walked but I had driven to the end from my house anyways and had no reason to just leave my car behind. I got there a little before the last class ended and just went to the front office. After some light chit chat, I was given a tour. It was one floor, maybe like 13 classrooms in total. Not including the small computer lab, the gym, the restrooms or closets. I saw teachers wrapping up classes and students getting ready to head home. Nothing seemed off during the first walk through. She asked me when I got into tracking the supernatural and I told her about two years ago. Not a lie, I guess. She asked what I did for the Enclosure. “We don't really know what it is you all do, I guess we're just curious,” is what she'd said. I felt like she was reading every movement and microexpression in response to whatever my answer would be. I kind of panicked. I told her that I just keep tabs on the natural anomalies, animal behavior primarily. I told her I'm involved in monitoring wildlife just to make sure that the ecosystem is in balance and stuff like that. Then I quickly changed the topic because I know jack diddley about biology beyond the basics.

I got to talking to Anika about what's been happening, which was what Todd had said and then some. Flying clocks, footprints, and startled staff. But there were also a few other things as well. Things apparently turn on and off by themselves, like the janitor's vacuums or the lights. One time the cleaning staff heard some stuff moving around in an empty room and then when they investigated the room, apparently a bunch of desks got moved around and flipped over. Seems that this Mrs. Caller has also been knocking over projectors and has made things go missing, especially in the old classroom where she taught. After Anika showed me around the whole school, uh, greeting kids as classes let out, which, let me tell you, made me incredibly uncomfortable. Again, I'm not good with kids, so I just kind of gave awkward waves and half smiles to them. Anyways, after she showed me around and led me back to where Mrs. Caller's former classroom was, she asked if I needed anything before she'd go back to work and leave me to meander. Right before she walked away though she asked if I had any tools for the ghost hunting. I hate calling it that. I'm not hunting the ghosts or anything, I'm more just trying to communicate, check in and see what's going on. They don't always want to talk and I definitely respect that. I mean, heck, there's times I sure don't want to talk to people. I told her I mostly wanted to check out the place first. I would bring in my equipment from my car once all the students were gone. She asked if I needed to wait till night time and I told her that that's just a rumor. Paranormal investigations often happen at night because it's quieter from interruptions and easier to use the night vision. But if the ghost has been haunting during the day then it makes sense to investigate during the day as well.

So we walked back to the front door. She went into what I guess is her office and I went and grabbed my kit that I keep in my trunk. It's got an EMF sensor, a voice recorder, which is basically just a fancier version of what I use for these journal entries. An infrared thermometer, high power camera, other nifty little tools. Mostly the basics, they don't give me the heavy duty kit for assignments like these, of course. I made my way back to Mrs. Caller's former classroom and gave passing greetings to everyone that I passed and made eye contact with. Just a little smile and wave, asking how are you, as neither party planned for an extensive conversation. I got over there and introduced myself as I set up the equipment. I definitely felt something. I wasn't sure if it was her or not but with the way that it felt, well I felt more comfortable. It felt more familiar. So I told her my name, that I was there just to communicate and see if I could help calm her down at all. I explained what I was setting up and what all it would do. I felt my muscles relax as I just felt far more comfortable in this situation than being surrounded by students while talking to Anika. Nothing against Anika, I felt quite comfortable talking to her back at the restaurant. I think it was just the whole being surrounded by people thing. So I got everything set up and started to poke around the classroom. I started asking general questions, ones that I'm encouraged to ask based on protocol. What do you want, how did you die, why are you here? And so on. I hate those questions. What makes anyone think that those spirits would want to answer them anyway?

So after I got very little response I sat down on top of one of the desks crisscross applesauce, put the equipment down and just chatted. I asked how she was feeling. I apologized if it was bothersome being pestered with questions especially if she'd been primarily been being ignored, except for people prying. I asked why she lingered in her former classroom, like why this place? That was when a small frame holding up what looked like an obituary caught my attention, a hung up above the door, so I asked her about it. I heard some beeps from my pile of tools but I didn't need to pick it up. I knew that particular beeping. It wasn't an auditory reception, it was an energy spike. And I could feel the shift in… the atmosphere? The mood of the room? At first I just felt like I was being watched, but then I felt like it was more, um, that I was encroaching in someone else's living space. That I was somewhere that I shouldn't be or doing something that I shouldn't be doing. I slid myself off the desk and went to start gathering my supplies, but then the feeling went away. Seems like she'd just been upset that I was sitting with my feet up on the desk like that. So I muttered an apology and just made my way over towards the door to take a closer look at the obituary. It felt like something was practically breathing down the back of my neck. Not literally, but, I don't know. I could just feel it there. I turned around slowly and saw, unsurprisingly, nothing. But I knew in my gut that she was right there.

Then what scared me more than anything was that the classroom door flew open behind me. Not enough to slam on the wall or anything, but enough to make a sound. It was just some student who apparently left her notebook behind her something. She couldn't have been more than, what ,13? She was sweet, asked what I was doing back there. I told her a half truth, which is pretty much just my life at this point. I told her I was investigating on behalf of Mrs. Ralsh, which in my opinion is not a lie, just not the whole truth. She then went on to tell me about an experience that her dad had last year. Apparently her dad is one of the school janitors that had an incident early one morning when he'd come to clean up the place during the weekend. He was helping wax the floors in the halls by the back door, and at some point he turned to see footprints in the wax finishing on the tile. Her dad got pretty freaked out since he knew that he did not hear or see anyone walk by and the footprints were all too small to be his. He followed the footprints to the back door. He tried the handle but the door was locked, it was a door that needed a key to be unlocked. So he used his key to open the door and discovered footprints leading from the door to the direction of the town's cemetery, which wasn't too far away. The same cemetery that Mrs. Caller was buried in. I asked her if her dad had experienced anything else since then with Mrs. Caller, and she said that he's seen loads of stuff. But normally he sees the aftermath, like he has to clean up the messes that she makes if the other teachers can't for whatever reason. So I thanked her, she grabbed her things, and then she wished me luck before she hurried out.

So once again I stood alone in the classroom. Well, alone besides the presence of Mrs. Caller, which was definitely still strong. Maybe it was a bit smarmy of me, but I asked her, “now why would the girl wish me luck?” I was told that Mrs. Caller isn't aggressive towards people but she definitely wants her presence to be known, and I guess she didn't like the idea of the disrespect in my tone in her own classroom. Suddenly there was a blur in front of me and the sound of shattering glass, the framed obituary that hung above the door had been knocked off the wall and landed practically at my feet, which made me jump instinctively. Thankfully my boots are sturdy enough that I didn't have to worry too much about getting hurt from the glass, but I noticed that there was something tucked behind the obituary in the frame. My hands are already fairly scarred up from work and I don't think the nerve endings in my fingertips really work as well as they used to, so I kind of just reached down without thinking. I brushed away the glass and picked up the paper so that I could examine it.

The obituary itself was hardly remarkable, exactly what I'd expect from a beloved school teacher who passed away many many years ago. But what was behind it was odd. An old Enclosure business card. I still have it with me. It looks probably as old as the obituary, if not older. It's the same general logo but it doesn't look as modern, as if they've updated it since then. The colors aren't as bright, aren't as jarring. But something about it made my stomach twist. It felt wrong, not like the uncanny valley wrong, but just I don't like looking at it. I pocketed the business card and carefully put the obituary on the desk. I asked what Mrs. Caller was trying to tell me, but the energy felt... tired? Strained? A little concerned. I asked for literally any other message, any other sign, anything that could be helpful with whatever this, this business card is. Then I saw chairs in the classroom start to move. Instead of them all being pushed into desks they were all shifted as if whoever was seated in the chairs were all facing me. I was the focus at that point. It suddenly felt like I was being watched far more intensely than I've been in a haunting situation. It was like I was standing in front of a crowd who were all watching me with narrowed, scrutinizing eyes. At first I just gave a huff and said “oh haha, very funny”. But then, the smell of something sweet. It was... it was a mild smell, not like anything I've ever smelled before, but as soon as that smell hit my senses my chest hurt and my stomach churned. I looked back at the obituary on the desk and saw Mrs. Caller's smiling face, then looked up to see the words “do your homework” written on the whiteboard in neat handwriting and one of the markers uncapped on the little storage ledge thing. So I told her, okay, I would, but I had to leave. I felt sick, which has never happened in a situation like this before. I normally have a gut of steel but something about that sweet smell just shook me to my core. I hurriedly capped the marker, wiped off the whiteboard, and then rushed over and started to power down my equipment that I hardly even used. I have been chased, drowned, attacked, and so many worse, worse things than having empty chairs turned to face me, but my heart was thudding in my chest and my palms started to sweat. I needed to leave. The sweet smell still lingered and I couldn't stand it!

I packed up my equipment and just got out of there. As I made my way back towards the front door I knew I couldn't be seen by anyone like that, I couldn't stand the idea of anyone's eyes on me at that point. I ducked into the bathroom, I tucked myself into a stall. I put my box down on the floor and just sat on the toilet before I just... stared at my hands. My scarred, now nicked-with-glass fingers, the creases in my palms, the swirl of my fingertips. I just reminded myself that I was there. The sweet smell was replaced by the smell of cleaning supplies and other musty smells. While it wouldn't normally be a pleasant smell it was far better than whatever I had smelled previously. After a few deep breaths I finally stood up and started to prepare to leave. That was when my bathroom stall flew open to reveal... nobody. It was more like Mrs. Caller was telling me to skedaddle on home and get working on my homework. I don't know why I couldn't fully see her like the ghost set the Chronicle Inn, but I could surely feel her presence strongly enough.

I'll admit I got a little huffy with her. I told her it was rude to barge into a stall like that and I was getting ready. Considering I hadn't actually used the bathroom, I just grabbed my stuff and headed out. Thankfully I made it to the front entrance without really catching anyone's attention. I was actually even able to slip by the front door without anyone noticing me, or at least they didn't call out to me. I felt a little bad without saying goodbye to Anika, especially after only being there for like, what, an hour? But I just wanted to get home. And now I'm home. And what was my homework? Well I decided to look more into this Alice Caller. She had a husband who passed away not long before she did. The husband worked in town and apparently had some ties with the Enclosure. Not an employee, they don't really hire townsfolk. But seemingly a friend of a former employee. I did hours of digging after I got home and found a mention in a newspaper of him and a Dr. Severin Kelder. I don't know why that name stuck out to me, but it did. I don't know if I've seen it on a research file before, or what. But I'm going to look more into it when I have my work computer at the lab tomorrow. Maybe Mrs. Caller saw the Enclosure logo on my equipment or something? But why was that business card even there? This business card isn't even for a particular person. I mean, it has a phone number on it but no name. I don't recognize the number and when I looked through my roster of numbers it didn't match anything. So perhaps, it was an older, no longer used number? Also, Todd said that Mrs. Caller died like a hundred years ago. Well, if this business card from the Enclosure was there, then that's impossible. The Enclosure settled here in like the 1930s. I think Todd was just exaggerating. Also both Anika and the obituary said that she taught and then died in like the 80s, so, whatever. Not that that really matters.

I put the old Enclosure business card away in the back of one of my drawers. I don't want to look at it anymore than I have to, it reminds me of that sweet smell in the classroom and I hate it. I normally love sweets and sweet smelling things, but something about that particular smell, it… I don't know. It triggers flight or fight down to my very core. Even if I know logically that I'm safe. [shivers] Just thinking about it is sitting me on pins and needles. Oh gods, and I didn't even tell anyone about the broken glass. A janitor probably had to clean it up. Totally forgot. Now I feel like a jerk... should I send an apology? Should I call in the morning?

[tapping sounds] Oh, I hear you! But you're not coming in, not after last time! I don't want to have to replace my couch again. I told you to just please, please leave me alone. Why'd you even want in my place so bad? There's other houses for you to knock on! [takes a deep breath] They're just kids, Jared. They're just doing whatever it is that they do. There is no need to shout at them. They don't know better. Sorry! I'm gonna stop the research for tonight and get some rest, I've stayed up way too late and I think that the black-eyed children are drawn to my house due to the fact that my lights are still on. I'm gonna call Anika in the morning and see if I could come back Friday after school, have the place relatively to myself, examine a bit further. It also gives me time between now and then to do some more research. I know Todd wanted the files on his desk by the end of the week, but I could always go in Friday afternoon and drop off the files Saturday. Still at the end of the week, he never specified what day. So, till next time, I guess. This is Dr. Jared Hel, signing off.

OUTRO

Jar of Rebuke is written and produced by Casper Oliver, who is also the voice of Dr. Jared Hel. Dr. Todd Carmen is voiced by Conrad Miszuk. The intro is read by Vanessa Rosengrant, and credits are read by Ashley Craft, who has created the podcast official graphics. Music was created by Luke Menniss, spelled m-e-n-n-i-s-s, who you can find and support on Bandcamp, Spotify and Twitch. Find us on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter for updates. You can support us on Patreon or Podhero by following the links in our episode description. And special thanks to our patreon supporters Becky Thompson, Perry Bruns, Tristan Fraud, Nico Allen and Devin Wright.

[elareine]

clock ticking (sudden silence)

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Loss, Grief/Mourning, Age Difference, Identity Reveal Summary: For twenty years, Dick Grayson has waited for his timer to begin ticking. When it finally does, there are only two issues: Jason is thirteen. And the timer only reads eighteen months.

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The thing about the timer was: It didn’t tell you anything about your soulmate, only how long you would have together.

Dick had heard people talking about how they ‘sensed’ who it was before they ever met the person, how they just knew their soulmate(s) would be sweet and gentle and fiery and perfect. Some even said it came to them in dreams, the vague shape of a face they loved more than anyone else.

Privately, Dick thought that was bullshit. It was a timer, nothing more. They all had the same lettering, the same number system, everything. There was no way of knowing what the other person would be like.

When he had been a child, he’d thought he would meet his soulmate in the circus for sure. He couldn’t imagine anything different. Perhaps it would be an audience member, coming up to meet him after the performance. Maybe one of the countless children that tried to sneak in to watch, one of the ones that looked so poor, the circus owners decided to turn a blind eye and allow them some joy, therefore helping Dick meet the love of his life.

But deep down, he’d always thought it would be another acrobat. Someone joining the circus. Someone who knew the sheer joy of flying, the thrill of danger and an audience. Someone to become part of his family.

That dream crashed spectacularly, of course. Try as he might, Dick never found quite another dream to replace that one. Would they be handsome or beautiful? If they were his soulmate, he would think so for sure, and that was all that mattered. Would they be kind? Supportive? A rock to lean on?

He’d told himself that it wouldn’t matter until his timer started, and maybe not even then.

Bruce’s timer, for example, was ticking. Dick had spotted it for the first time months into their partnership. He’d been confused, had asked if he had met Bruce’s soulmate—where were they?

In those days, Bruce had still been willing to answer Dick’s questions. He said: Sometimes, even soulmate relationships didn’t work out. It was a chance, a hint, nothing more. With him being a vigilante, the choice to be together wasn’t as easy as kids’ movies made it out to be.

(He had never actually mentioned the name of his soulmate. Back then, Dick had thought he knew anyway. Now, he wasn’t so sure.)

(He also thought Bruce had been full of shit that day.)

His teenage years were pretty good, romantically speaking. Sexually, too. Some lovely puppy love, a bit of experimentation, the conclusion that yep, he was going to continue using the gender-neutral ‘they’ for his future soulmate, but probably not in the plural sense.

Still, he kept waiting for his timer to start ticking.

He heard about the new kid before he ever met him. He and Batman weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the time, but. Rumors spread, and soon, so did videos of the kid in the Robin mantle. Seeing how Dick was now twenty and very much not built like that anymore, the conclusion that he had been replaced was pretty much inevitable.

It would be accurate to say Dick didn’t react well to the news. Bruce had every right to take in another child, but how dare he call him Robin? Nevermind that Dick himself had moved on from that title. It wasn’t Bruce’s to give.

So his first time meeting the kid was already tense as hell. The fact that his timer started ticking the exact moment he laid eyes on Jason didn’t help.

Dick was panicking.

Jason was thirteen.

He was tiny.

Okay, he wasn’t, he was pretty average for his age, he went up to Dick’s chest, even, but the keywords here were ‘for his age’ because Jason was thirteen.

Dick wasn’t a pervert, okay. There was nothing sexy about a teenager that had just hit puberty to him. His replacement, nonetheless. His brother.

But maybe all of that would’ve been fine. They could’ve become friends or made sure to meet up later in life when the age difference wouldn’t seem so monumental. Seven years wasn’t so much once both of you were out of puberty. Dick could’ve morphed from a big brother figure to something closer over time. He’d have enjoyed that, probably.

But none of that would happen because the timer only had 18 months left from the day it began.

Dick didn’t say anything to Jason. When the younger sought him out, he kept their interactions short. His ongoing problems with Bruce were a good enough reason to stay away from the manor, from Gotham, and to never talk about this. Either he would die far away from the kid, never to be mourned, or Jason himself would die, having lived unencumbered by soulmate that was way too old for him. It was better that way.

His friends found out in one of the worst ways possible: by accident, two days before the timer was due to stop.

Jason had disappeared over a week ago. Dick had tried to warn Bruce, had fully intended to at least be in Gotham and try to stop it from happening because although these things were rarely wrong, he knew he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for not trying—but Jason had disappeared so much earlier than he’d thought.

In a way, that made it worse. If Jason had indeed been kidnapped (and according to Bruce, signs were that he’d left on his own, but you never knew what the incentive for that might’ve been), then Dick didn’t want to imagine the torture Jason would have to suffer in the week before he died.

He still did, of course. That was why Kori and Wally had caught him staring at the ticking time bomb on his wrist.

There was no need to explain, no way to hide what was happening. Kori sighed, “Oh, Dick,” and Wally was wrapped around him in a hug faster than Dick could tell that he was fine.

“Is there anything we can do?”

Dick looked into Kori’s beautiful green eyes and seriously considered the question. A speedster, an alien, a man trained by the world’s greatest detective. Together, they had saved the city—heck, the world—from certain disaster more than once.

But they couldn’t fight against fate. Dick shook his head.

Eventually, they made to leave, and truthfully, Dick was glad. He didn’t know how to talk about this. How to tell them that no, he had no idea where his soulmate was because he had rejected him, hadn’t even kept a close watch.

But Kori turned around.

“Just,” she closed her eyes, “is it one of us?”

Understanding her fear all too well, he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “No.”

At least there was that. No one here would miss Jason.

Bruce didn’t tell him when he found a lead, he just went. Dick wasn’t even mad about that. He hadn’t been entirely honest with Bruce, either.

Besides, when he got the alert that the Batplane had taken off and saw his timer tick down its last hours, he already knew that Bruce would be too late.

00:02.

Dick watched the last hours tick down on his timer. Now that it was happening, he would give anything to be in Ethiopia. He barely knew the boy—nothing beyond his history and that he was Dick’s soulmate; that he was Robin—but he knew that Jason didn’t deserve to die alone.

Bruce hadn’t reached out to him at all. Neither had Alfred.

00:01.

It was agonizing.

00:00.

Jason’s last hour had begun. Dick set the stopwatch on his phone for sixty minutes. The timer didn’t go into so many details. He’d tried to find out just how accurate it was; the results had been dispiriting. Jason could, as of now, be dead. Or he could live and breathe and hope for another 59 minutes.

The whole time, he prayed for his display to change. That Bruce would do the impossible once more, defeat fate, and buy Jason more time. Buy themmore time, now that Dick suddenly and painfully realized that he wanted there to be a them so badly, in any way he could get.

His stopwatch beeped. It was over. Dick hadn’t felt a thing, couldn’t have told you when his soulmate died, but it was over.

When he heard about what actually happened, it was worse.

Here’s a secret Dick never told anyone: He still wished Bruce had not even tried to revive the Joker. The old bastard had died that day like he deserved—unmourned.

Once Dick went through Jason’s things.

Bruce wasn’t home—gone on one of these trips he took these days, the ones filled with revenge and darkness in a way they hadn’t been before. If Alfred knew what Dick was doing, he didn’t comment. And after all, Dick thought mutinously, why shouldn’t he be here? This had been his room, once upon a time. He had a right to see what happened to it.

There were books there now. So many books. Jason hadn’t been choosy; classic French literature was crammed in next to space operas and cowboy romance. When Dick idly pulled one out, he could see scrawled comments in the margins. Apparently, Jason had considered “The Great Gatsby” to ‘suck ass.’

The room itself was much more orderly than when Dick had been responsible for tidying it. No way to tell if that was because Jason was a neat-freak or because Alfred had cleaned it out since his death, though.

It took Dick a second to realize what was missing. There was only one photograph, Batman and Robin heading into the night. Where were the family pictures? Dick remembered his own collection: his parents, the circus folk, his friends, Bruce and Alfred and Babs and Clark…

Maybe Jason had taken them with him when he left.

Still Dick’s eyes searched the room, hungry for something more personal than books and tidy clothes on a hanger. Finally, he saw it: a simple brown teddy bear, almost hidden by the curtains.

“Hey, little buddy,” he murmured, crouching down. “What’re you doing in the corner like that?”

In his mind’s eye, Dick could see Jason arguing with Bruce—or maybe just quietly seething in anger—, finally throwing the bear into the corner, his decision made.

Dick hesitated, but—he couldn’t leave the bear. It shouldn’t lie here, abandoned in a mausoleum. It went home with him that night, and to every home since.

It was such a fucking cliché, but after that, life went on.

Dick could see the empty space Jason left behind in Bruce’s life, in Alfred’s, hell, even in Tim’s, in Gotham itself—but the only thing for him that had changed was the nature of his guilt.

Eventually, he started dating again, unwilling to be chained to the ghost of a what-if. It was okay. People had relationships after their soulmates died. Sure, there were forums full of people complaining that nothing compared to dating The One. Wasn’t like Dick had anything to compare it to, though, so he was in the clear.

He and Babs really gave it a try. There was no universe in which Dick wasn’t glad that they did. She would always be one of the most important people in his life.

After they split up, the responsibilities keep piling onto him. Being a full-time vigilante with duties to more than city, to more than one team, heck, even to an international spy agency—it kept him busy. Distracted. Until fate found him again.

Dick’s timer was ticking again, only this time, he genuinely had no idea who had set it off. Maybe he’d been too busy, too numb to notice during patrol. It wasn’t unheard, people gaining a second chance at a soulmate. Dick just hadn’t exactly considered the possibility for himself, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

It read two years.

Dick wanted to throw something against the wall. Why? Why would he only be granted so little time? How much of it had he already wasted because he hadn’t noticed when it started ticking?

How many chances would he be granted, just for his love to leave him? Was this to be his doom?

You sound like Batman.

Dick stopped and pulled himself up. The last time this had happened, he’d been twenty, unsure of his place in the family and the world, ill-equipped to handle an already devastating situation.

That wasn’t him anymore.

This time, he would take whatever time they had. And when it ended, he’d be grateful for it, and keep living his life.

He just had to find them first.

There was a new vigilante in town. For months, he was but a rumor of a red helmet and dead bodies left in his wake—until he made his big move.

The takeover of the Penguin lounge had been well-planned and viciously executed, and there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it, not when all the Red Hood’s minions were loyal to him and his precautions excellent. He stayed far away from Batman and Robin; he seemed to have an understanding with Catwoman; his policy seemed to be to protect the street workers.

Somehow, he’d moved himself to the bottom of Batman’s list. Still, Dick knew he made Bruce uneasy. All their attempts to find out more about the man failed. Even when Tim managed to listen in on the club’s communications for almost a whole day, all they got was a name: Red Hood.

He was a rumor, until the day he sought out Dick on the rooftops.

“Red Hood.”

“Nightwing.” The other man’s voice was metallic, a voice modulator giving nothing away about its original timbre. “What brings you to Gotham?”

“Helping out on a case.” Nightwing’s connection to Batman wasn’t a secret. Dick would be astonished if there was still a citizen left that didn’t know Nightwing and Robin I were the same person. “What brings you to this roof?”

“You’re going after Sionis.”

“Yes.” Or at least, he was now.

“He hurt one of my own. He’s mine now. Stay away.”

Dick did his best not to snort. That was bullshit. His own interest in the Sionis case had been cursory at best. If Red Hood had just waited three days to eliminate him, Dick never would’ve noticed.

“What about him is so interesting that it warrants you coming out of hiding?”

The helmet tilted to the side. Dick would be damned if he could tell you why he found the movement so provoking, but he did. “Who says it’s Sionis I’m interested in?”

“Uh.” Dick was sure his eyes were wide behind the domino. Was Red Hood… hitting on him?

“Tell Batman to stay out of my business.”

With that, the other man shot a grapple and vanished. Dick made no move to follow him.

Dick expected that to be it. He returned to Blüdhaven, leaving Gotham and its secrets for Bruce to deal with. Except that particular secret seemed to have singled him out.

The first time he saw Red Hood in a fight in his city, he did nothing, merely observing the other’s fighting skills critically. Not bad. He had clearly been trained in a variety of fighting styles and was quicker than you’d expect for a man of his size. His left hook was good enough to rival Bruce’s.

Dick was still pretty sure he could take him in a fight.

“Are you just going to watch?” Red Hood called out, gripping one of his attackers by the throat and dangling him into the air.

“I dunno, you seem to have it pretty well in hand,” Dick sniggered.

“Never mind.” Red Hood dropped the now-unconscious man, turning to disable the next one with a well-placed nerve strike. Dick noted that unlike some of the scenes he’d seen in Gotham, Red Hood seemed to have no interest in killing these men. That implied he had some sort of value system. Interesting. “Please leave. That was terrible.”

Dick eyes the entrance of the alley. A group of armed thugs was gathering, clearly ready to strike. Decision made, he jumped from the roof, landing right beside Red Hood. “Sorry, but I can’t let you have all the fun.”

“Spoilsport.”

“You come into my city and then complain when I help you?”

“Oh, is that what you call this? ‘Cause all I can see is you standing around and jibbering.”

Dick thought the criminals he was currently sending a few thousand volts through might beg to differ. Between the two of them, they had the entire gang out in less than ten minutes.

It was, Dick reluctantly conceded, fun.

It became something of a regular occurrence after that. Nightwing would drop by Red Hood’s territory whenever he was in Gotham, and Red Hood would return the favor with regular visits to Blüdhaven. They’d banter, punch out some criminals, collect whatever they had come for, and go their separate ways. Not exactly a friendship, but something easy. Comfortable.

Until the night they busted a heroin ring in an abandoned warehouse and found some kids hiding three rooms down.

Dick saw the boy first. He couldn’t be more than twelve. His body was skinny, and not in the way teens sometimes got after a growth spurt.

Not knowing what else to do, Dick gave a wave. “Hi. I’m Nightwing. What’s your name?”

“I don’t want to tell you.” As soon as he uttered the words, the boy tensed, visibly expecting punishment.

Dick smiled. “That’s okay. I’ll tell you a secret—Nightwing’s not my real name, either.”

“Well, duh.” The teen scowled, but he did look less afraid. Then he looked over Dick’s shoulder and asked: “Who is that with my sister?”

Dick turned around to see Red Hood kneeling and… wearing a blonde wig? He blinked.

The little girl in front of him hiccuped, still crying but visible distracted by the big shiny helmet. Wearing a wig. Where had Hood even found that?

“That’s Red Hood,” Dick told him, trying to sound as if all of this was perfectly normal. God, he hoped the kids hadn’t heard the fighting. What a terrible time to pick this warehouse.

“What’re vigilantes doing here? Is something happening? Were there guns?”

“Sort of. I’m afraid this place isn’t safe, but we can bring you somewhere else for the night,” Dick said.

Red Hood looked up and suggested: “The sisters on St John Street. They’re good people.”

“No one will separate you,” Dick added. “Just help. Get you some food, somewhere to sleep safely.”

The boy looked at them. “We’re not going back to—to—”

“You won’t have to,” Red Hood promised, and Dick nodded. Not if he had anything to say about it—and once he would investigate whoever it was that they were running from, he would have.

“How about we accompany you?” Dick suggested.

The boy looked hesitant, but the girl suddenly gave a giggle. “You can’t walk like that,” she told Red Hood.

“Why not?”

“You look silly, dummy!”

“Well, that’s very rude of you to say.” And just like that, the wig still perched on the helmet, Red Hood stepped out onto the street. He was walking rather uncannily like a model, Dick noted with some amusement.

The girl followed him, still laughing and pulling her brother along. “No! Take it off!”

“But I feel so pretty!”

The distraction worked, and the walk to the center for vulnerable children passed quickly. Only there did Red Hood take off the wig, making a big show of stuffing into his belt to hide his ‘shame.’ “Your wish is my command,

The girl’s priorities seemed to have changed, though. “C’mon,” told her brother, “they said there’s food in there.”

But the teenager hesitated, looking at Dick. “Are you sure they’re okay?”

Dick was about to reassure them again, heartbroken by the hesitant hope in their eyes, when Red Hood said: “Yeah. I stayed with them a few times when I was your age. They get it.”

He didn’t mean the boy’s age, Dick realized. Jesus.

“Okay.”

Dick let them head in alone. They needed to see that they would welcome on their own, vigilante accompanying them or not. He would talk to the workers in a minute or two.

Red Hood’s metallic voice broke the silence. “So, I’m assuming you’re going to look into whoever did this to them.”

“You bet. Aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes. You better be quick.”

Dick had already planned on that, but: “Why?”

“I do not like child abusers, and I clean up after myself.” With that statement, Red Hood gave a little wave. The casual movement was belied by the suppressed rage that suddenly seemed to pour out of his every pore. “See you.”

Dick stared after him, undecided.

He had allowed himself to be judge, jury, and executioner once, and never regretted it. Not once had he since felt the desire or need to be in that position again.

Didn’t mean he didn’t get it.

In the end, he decided to head inside. The kids needed him, and they were what was important here.

Still. Life had just become a lot more complicated.

“We should eat.”

“Sure. Let’s have a picnic. Just you, me, the stars, and the person we’re staking out. How romantic.”

“Shut up.” Red Hood casually dropped a lunchbox next to where Dick was sitting. “You haven’t eaten in all day.”

“I’m not in danger of fainting, you know.” Still, Dick couldn’t help but open the box. “Pasta salad?”

Red Hood shrugged. “Carbs.”

It honestly smelled terrific. Red Hood had even brought a fork. Dick was ready to dig in when he realized something.

Red Hood was still wearing his helmet.

“So… you’re just going to sit there and watch me eat?”

Red Hood crossed his arms. “Well, if you say it like that, it just sounds creepy.”

“Yeah, exactly. You don’t want any food?”

“I’ll eat later.”

Dick considered him. “I bet you I could get that off you in less than two minutes.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to.”

For the first time, the other vigilante turned his back to Dick. There was what Dick recognized to be a trigger device at the back of his helmet. Dick shuddered. Red Hood would rather have his head explode than someone see his face without his consent.

“Okay, don’t take it off then. That looks like it would spoil the meal.”

“My point exactly. Do you always talk so much when there’s food on the table?”

Dick grumbled, but he did start eating after that. Damn. That pasta was goood.

Three days later, Red Hood shot a man that was about to decapitate Dick with an ax. He even left the criminal alive. Dick tried not to be charmed.

“Well, fuck.” Red Hood stared at the little dot on Dick’s display in dismay. “Guess it’s back to Blüdhaven for us.”

“Looks like it.” Dick sighed. Just what he’d needed. His ride was back in Blüdhaven since he’d taken a detour through space on his way here. Looked like he’d need to borrow one from Bruce. It was that or public transport.

As if he’d read his thoughts, Red Hood asked: “Want a ride?”

“You got a car?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, but no.” Hood fiddled with something on his belt. For a minute, nothing happened. Then Dick heard the noise of a smooth motor approaching. Red Hood made a ‘ta-da’ motion with his hand as a red and silver machine turned the corner. “I got a bike.”

Dick whistled. “Wow, my little brother would love that.”

“He got one of his own?”

“Nah, he’s thirteen, just a kid.” That may be slightly too much information to give out, but Dick had honestly stopped caring at some point. “It’s all about skateboards for now.”

“Is he turning his sick tricks in the local park or on the rooftops?”

“You could always just meet him.”

Red Hood snorted. “I have no desire to meet any more bats or birds.”

“And yet you keep hanging out with me.”

“Yeah.” A sigh. “Dunno why I keep doing this to myself.”

Suddenly feeling defensive, Dick crossed his arms. “Hey, we’re not that bad.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“You haven’t even met them.” Or Bruce wouldn’t be trying to milk Dick for information about their meetings.

“Oh yes I have.”

Red Hood froze. Dick pounced. “When?”

But it was no use. “Look. I’ll make you a deal. We don’t talk about Batman anymore tonight, and you get to drive.”

Dick considered that. “If I say no, are you just going to leave?”

“Yupp.”

“Fine.”

Ten minutes later, with Red Hood’s arms wound tightly around his middle, the bike humming between his legs, Dick couldn’t even be mad.

Sometimes, Dick worried. Red Hood was too casual about his own life. Even as he made friends—not just Dick, but Roy and Kori and Artemis and, somehow, a Superman clone—he threw himself into the kind of situations that made even Dick take a step back and evaluate.

He was too reckless. It was as if his life didn’t matter. If Hood went on like this, he’d be dead within a year or two—Dick froze.

Could… could Red Hood be his soulmate?

His timer had begun ticking again before he met the other vigilante on that rooftop. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have passed him on the street one day before that, though. Or rather, one night: It must’ve been in his Nightwing garb. If Red Hood knew, or suspected, that would explain why he sought Nightwing out.

Granted, the odds were slim. But it was possible.

Funnily enough, Dick never once asked himself whether he wanted Hood to be his soulmates. Why wouldn’t he? Underneath that anger, he suspected Red Hood to be one of the kindest men he’d ever met, and he’d been nothing but supportive to Dick.

Still. He had to treat this with caution.

Look. Dick knew he should be with his friends and/or family, celebrating his birthday, not out here, jumping from rooftop to rooftop in Blüdhaven. It just felt… right, this year. Days like these, Dick couldn’t bear looking at what was left of his friends. All he would do was count the empty spaces. Patrol was safer, somehow.

Of course, the one time he was looking for a distraction on his birthday, he didn’t find any. Blüdhaven was weirdly quiet. It took Dick two hours to figure out why.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, bemused.

Red Hood, visibly startled, turned around—then swore when the two-bit criminal he’d been cornering took the chance to sprint off into the sunset. “Dammit, was that necessary?”

“Eh, you’ll catch him. So?”

“I was in the area, and I didn’t expect you to—never mind. What are you working on?”

Dick shrugged as casually as possible. “Nothing in particular. Just patrol, business as usual, you know. How about you?”

“I was following a lead, but it just fled for the hills.” Red Hood sighed, always a funny sound through the helmet.

“Ooops,” Dick said, not apologetic at all. “How about that. Whatever are you going to do with your evening.”

He’d meant it as a joke—there was always more crime to hunt down—but the other man paused. “Actually. There’s something I wanted to show you.”

‘Something’ turned out to be yet another rooftop perch, this time in one of the poorer districts. Dick didn’t get what was so special about this until the first family left their house. Another followed, and another, until there were about thirty people gathered, nearly half of them children.

“Watch,” Red Hood murmured.

One man put down a large bag and took out an object. For one terrible second, Dick thought it was a missile—but no. A rocket, but one of the harmless variety.

The kids cheered as several of the adults prepared the fireworks. The first rocket went up, bathing the street in the light of its beautiful golden rain. It was quickly followed by a serious of smaller, purple blasts, underlined by a wheel of blue lights.

“They do this once a month,” Red Hood told him. “To bring some light to the city.”

Dick pressed his shoulder companionably into the other man’s. “This is neat. Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Ah, there was the embarrassed grumbling again. Dick had learned to tell. “Shut up already and watch, you’re louder than the fireworks.”

He didn’t move away, though. Dick counted it as a win.

“It was supposed to be me,” the woman whispered, over and over again.

Dick kept his grip on her shoulder tight to keep her from running to into the fire and to her soulmate. He’d seen the body. There was nothing they could do. “I’m sorry, but—”

“You don’t understand!” she yelled, suddenly furious. “That’s my wife! My soulmate!”

He wanted to tell her: “I do understand.” However, did he really? Jason had been more of a concept than a real person.

(Red Hood, however little information Dick had about him, was very, definitely real. Dick tried not to imagine the kind of hole someone like that would leave in his life.)

Instead, he said: “She wouldn’t want you to follow her.”

With one last anguished cry, the woman collapsed against his chest.

As he watched the police car drive off, Dick considered going home. As far as he was concerned, this night could go fuck itself. But… he didn’t want to be alone.

“Can’t be easy, something like that.”

Relief flooded Dick at the metallic voice even before he turned around to greet the other vigilante. With Red Hood, he wouldn’t have to be alone. He knew that deep in his bones.

“No,” he replied belatedly. “No, it can’t be. Isn’t.”

“Are you alright?”

Dick frowned. “Yes? This hasn’t been a great night so far, but patrol is nearly over, so—”

“You’re bloody.”

“Oh.” Dick lifted his hands and studied the scratches that now marked him. “It’s fine.”

Red Hood, though, took one of Dick’s hands in his and studied it as if to inspect the wounds. “Those are gouges.”

“She was desperate.”

“Understandable.” Red Hood dropped Dick’s hand. It felt cold. “I think if I lost my soulmate, I would go searching for them in any way I could. Try to save them, somehow.”

There was something pointed about these words. Dick couldn’t quite grasp it. “Destiny doesn’t negotiate.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Brought me here, didn’t it?”

And that was—

Dick closed his eyes, just to think for a moment. The way the other man was behaving, there was good reason to think he might suspect himself to be Dick’s soulmate. All Dick would have to do was ask, and maybe, just maybe, something he’d wanted for a very long time would be within his grasp.

But Jason’s shadow still loomed over him. He couldn’t forget that boy. He mustn’t. It was the least of what he owed him.

“I had a soulmate before,” Dick told him.

Red Hood cocked his head to the side. “Had?”

Somehow, his tone was more surprised than emphatic. That didn’t exactly fill Dick with confidence, but he continued: “He died. My timer was set for only eighteen months. He was—he was just a boy, really.”

Suddenly he realized he was crying. It was the first time he’d let his guard down, really down, about this, and something about Red Hood made it impossible for him to pull it back up.

Embarrassed, he covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Gloved hands settled on his shoulders. “Hey, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to—“

“I fucked it up, Hood. Left him alone. It was selfish and stupid and I—I can’t—” Dick stopped talking. It wouldn’t come out without sobs, anyway.

Red Hood’s hands stayed on him during the minutes he cried silently, pressing down hard enough to hurt Dick, to anchor him; but he didn’t say anything. He just waited, and when Dick was coherent again, he asked: “What happened?”

“He died,” Dick said simply. “I murdered his killer, but that does not bring him back.”

There was a long silence. It should’ve been tense, nervous, now that even the last of Dick’s secrets had been exposed. Instead Dick felt resigned. Either this would be too much, even for the Red Hood, or not.

This was who he was. There was no changing that, no matter how hard he’d tried.

“Well, fuck, now I’m not even slightly angry with you anymore, what the fuck.”

Dick frowned. That… wasn’t what he’d expected. “What do you mean?”

“You know I fully intended on some kind of revenge plot here? I thought maybe a dramatic reveal in front of all of the bats, you know, or at least something accompanied by a lot of yelling and triumph, not to mention bloodshed,” the Red Hood told him almost conversationally as he stood back and began fiddling with the mechanism at the back of his helmet. “But no, you have to go and be a much better man than I thought, Dickie. Of fucking course.”

All the alarm bells began to ring in Dick’s head. “What did you just call me?”

The helmet came off.

“…Jason?”

They were so different. Hood was taller than Jason; a man instead of a boy. His hair was dark, yes, but there was white streak running through it. His jaw had filled out, his bearing straightened, his eyes turned slightly greener.

And yet.

Dick knew.

“Yeah. Uh. Surprise. Guess you didn’t know? I wasn’t completely sure before today.”

Dick filed the notion that Jason thought him (or the rest of the family, for that matter) capable of just quietly ignoring his resurrection away for some other day. Right now, he was too busy trying to breathe.

“Dick?” There was concern in that voice now. “Are you okay?”

“Am I—” Breathing. “How?”

“Maybe you should sit down?” Jason looked like he expected Dick to faint any minute now. Dick admitted that might not be too far from the truth ‘cause what the fuck, but it didn’t matter right now, because: “You died.”

“Yes.” Jason ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Don’t ask me how or I got out of that grave, I don’t either.”

Dick didn’t know what to say to that.

“Talia al Ghul rescued me,” Jason continued, talking more quickly as if wanting to get it over with. “I wasn’t whole, so… Lazarus Pit. And then she trained me and told me a whole bunch of stuff, some of which turned out to be true, some of which didn’t. And now I’m here.”

“But—” he whispered. This was dialogue straight out of a terrible Hallmark movie, but he needed to know. “My timer—”

“Dick,” Jason looked at him with a steady gaze, “my timer has read the same time ever since I met you.” He lifted his wrist and pulled off the leather glove.

46:04.

Dick stared at it helplessly. That was the kind of number he’d only ever dreamed of. And it was supposed to be his and Jason’s?

His and Jason’s. Because Jason was his soulmate, returned to him from the dead without Dick’s knowledge or help. That, finally, what was got through the shock, rattling Dick back into reality.

Dick looked him into the eyes—and God, those eyes; if there hadn’t been that helmet, that modulator, Jason would’ve had no way of hiding himself—and said something he’d wanted to say for seven years: “I’m sorry.”

“I told you I’m not angry anymore.”

“I should’ve been there for you,” Dick insisted.

For the first time, Jason looked away. “In a way, you were.”

“I was what?”

“There with me. I can’t speak for what was happening when I was dead—don’t remember, mostly glad about that—but when I clawed my way out of that grave, I had no idea who you were. I had no idea who I was, really. But I saw that timer and knew that someone, somewhere, was waiting for me.”

Dick couldn’t help himself, reaching out with trembling hands to finally, finally pull Jason close. Burying his head in the other man’s shoulder, he whispered tremulously: “I was, Jason. I didn’t even know it, but I was.”

Strong arms wrap around him to hold on just as tightly. For the first time in years, Dick felt his head quieten.

Still he had to ask: “How can you forgive me?”

“Okay, one? As an adult myself now, I completely understand why you freaked out. Teenagers are babies. A+ not taking advantage of me.”

Dick chuckled wetly.

“Two… I’ve seen you open your heart again. Tim, he’s actually your brother. Your friends.” Jason was talking into his hair ear now. Maybe it was easier that way. “You keep doing that, Dick, just opening up and taking people in and being vulnerable, and I don’t know how you do that, really, it’s kinda worrying, but—I cannot blame you for being tired just one time of losing people.”

“You should,” Dick told him, “I do.”

“Yeah, well, no-one said you were smart.”

That got a laugh out of Dick. He let it shake through him, then asked: “Why did you hide when you came back?”

“I didn’t want to see Bruce. Still don’t.” Jason’s voice was matter of fact.

Dick knew they would have to talk about that. Not now. “Why come back at all, then?”

“It’s my home. Also, I didn’t want to just give up on you, you know?”

The side of Jason’s neck was naked and vulnerable without the helmet. Dick pressed a kiss there in gratitude.

“When I didn’t know if you figured out my identity or not, I wanted to see what happened,” Jason continued. “I figured, this situation is fucked up and all, but it’s also a chance.”

“A chance?”

“My last turn as a vigilante in Gotham was kinda a shitshow. So I thought I’d just prove that—that I could be what you want. That I could do better. I don’t know if I can ever be good, not the way you and Batman want me to be—”

“Jason,” Dick interrupted him, pulling back to look at Jason; his voice fierce with the obviousness of what he had to say, “you are exactly what I want. If I had ever taken any time to know you before, I’d have known that, and I wanted you since I got to know you as the Red Hood. If you think there is any way I am letting you go again—“

Now they were talking in circles. Jason seemed to notice that, too, for he cupped Dick’s jaw mid-sentence and kissed him.

It was a hesitant kiss, slightly at odds with the confident way Jason acted otherwise; Dick realized with a pang that, of course, his teenage years hadn’t lent themselves to the same experimentation that Dick’s had. Still, he was so gentle, not letting go of Dick even as his hand trembled on his face, and the soft sigh he let out when Dick cupped his nape was nothing short of sweet.

There was a softness in this that warmed Dick from the inside out.

When they pulled apart, Dick had to giggle. This night had been an emotional rollercoaster; he felt air-headed and silly with it. “We probably shouldn’t do this here.”

“Not good for the reputation,” Jason agreed, his voice low. Dick liked it.

“Come home with me?”

“Sure.”

When Dick looked surprised at Jason’s easy acceptance, Jason shrugged. “I’ve been dying to take that mask off of you. Knowing you, it’s glued on with a special mixture only you got the remover for, though.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. “Oh,” Dick said, remembering something. “Actually, I got someone at home who would love to see you.”

“Don’t tell me you got a kid that I somehow missed.”

“Nah. Better.” Dick smiled. “A bear.”

The next morning, after he woke up in Jason’s arms; after they showered separately and ate breakfast together and just tried to parse out what this meant for the rest of their lives—that morning, Dick looked at his timer and saw that it now read 07:22.

Jason seemed fascinated by the change. “I think I read a study about mismatched timers before. There’s a theory that they reflect our choices really more than our fate, and are meant to influence our actions—maybe I should look it up…”

“I think,” Dick said firmly, “that we should cover the damn things up and never look at them again.”

Jason considered that. “Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan.”