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bluejaysandblackbats · 3 months

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Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Four: Looking Glasses

My glasses weren't ready for my Wednesday appointment, but they were done the Friday after my second week of school. So, I took a cab to the optometrist's and then the pizza parlor, where I ran into Tim. He was with his friends, so I thought he wouldn't notice me. "One meat lover's pizza with thin garlic butter crust," I ordered. I waited in the corner, drinking out of the two-liter soda I bought to drown my misery. I had a crappy week at school and didn't want to speak to talk to anyone. The smell of pizza usually left me in a better mood. Besides, I liked being away from the house and the family. I ate the fries they gave me for dining in and watched people standing at the street corner.

"Order for Christopher!" the man at the counter called. I finished my fries, threw the two-liter in my bag, and grabbed my crutches. When I got to the counter, I realized I couldn't carry my pizza and use my crutches. Tim got up and offered to help. I was mortified. I hid my name and everything to avoid speaking to him, only to need his help.

"Here, listen, my driver's on his way. He can drop you off if you want, and I'll help you to your-."

"I don't wanna be any trouble," I interrupted. I said it harshly without meaning to, but I don't think Tim cared. He'd been following me around campus all day, and we just so happened to meet at the pizza place. It would've felt like he was stalking me had he not gotten there first. "I should've thought-."

"No, it's okay. It's really no trouble. I insist," Tim replied.

There was no polite way to turn him down, and his driver just pulled up out front. "I'll split this pie with you if you don't take me home."

Tim grinned a half-smile. "Alright. Come on, I've got your pizza," Tim reassured me. He carried my pizza to the car, and I followed him out.

Once we got in the car, I asked the question I'd had since the first day of school. "Are you watching me? At school, I mean?" I asked.

"I've been-. I'm curious. People talk, and-. Well, you never let anybody close enough to learn anything about you," Tim replied. I knit my brows with great effort.

"What do you wanna know, Tim?" I asked.

"Jason, what kind of accident was it?" Tim questioned.

"Explosion... Gas leak explosion. I don't like to talk about it," I lied. Honestly, I was dying to talk about it. I was sick of holding it all inside myself, but I couldn't afford to let anyone in my head. Especially not some freshman I'd known for less than a week. Tim gave me my pizza box and the okay to eat in the car. I set the box between us and draped an open napkin over my lap. I let Tim eat, but he wasn't hungry. I ate in silence.

It'd been a while since I'd had pizza. I think it was my birthday the last time. I was in the hospital then. Bruce wanted to cheer me up, but all I could think about was my-. I could only think about Sheila. I tried to take the brunt of the blast, but I wasn't big enough. She impaled her skull on a rock anyway. So, I lay trapped between the debris and her lifeless body for what felt like forever. I relived that moment constantly. Lately, I only think about it when I feel trapped. "Jason?" Tim whispered as he touched my arm. It shook me out of a trance. "You alright? You were gone for a while... We're at my house now."

"Oh, we're here?" I mumbled as if I'd been asleep. I slipped my backpack on, and Tim helped me carry my pizza box inside. His house was mostly empty, save for a maid or nanny working on the premises. He set the box on the coffee table and turned the tv on.

I took my homework out of my bag and sat it upright on the floor. "You're gonna do your homework?" Tim asked. I nodded and put on my glasses.

"Yeah, that's what I typically do when I get a minute to sit down," I half-joked. Tim shrugged and flipped through the channels.

"Would it be distracting if I asked you a few questions?" Tim asked. I shook my head. "Jason, when you were thirteen, you went on a short trip to Hollywood over the spring break, right?" The question was weird, but I nodded.

"Yeah, I was visiting a friend. He invited me out to see the movie his Aunt worked on," I answered. That was a half-truth.

"Did you get to see Robin while you were there?" Tim asked.

I laughed it off. "Robin lived in Gotham... But no one's seen much of him lately," I replied. Tim nodded seriously and turned toward the tv.

"He was in Los Angeles that week," Tim replied, "Weird coincidence, huh?"

"What are you getting at, Tim?" I asked.

"Nothing, I'm just a big fan of Robin. I always ask," Tim whispered. I took a deep breath. "I'm coming on too strong, huh?

"A little," I replied as I opened my history book and filled out my worksheet. It took me an hour to finish my homework before I asked Tim to call me a cab.

Tim seemed sad at first, but he called the cab anyway. When the cab got there, he lingered out front with me. "Hey, um-."

"Thanks for everything, Tim. Can we do this again?" I asked. Tim grinned. I didn't want to admit it, but it was the first time I'd felt normal since the accident. I didn't want to let that feeling go. I opened the door and waved at Tim before heading home.

As soon as I got home, Bruce came out of the manor fuming. He waited until I reached the front door to start in on me. "Where the hell have you been?" Bruce asked, whispering through clenched teeth.

"I got my glasses, ate, and did my homework... How are you?" I asked.

"I was worried-. Did you ask me how I was?" Bruce questioned. I nodded. I never asked him how he was. I think my sincerity shocked him. I offered an awkward smile. "I'm alright... How are you?"

"I'm good... I think-. Yeah, I'm good," I smiled. Bruce let me in, and I took the stairlift without argument. I didn't even have to argue with him. I chose peace and peace felt... Kinda nice.

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nevermore-the-kitsune · 3 years

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Pokemon Teams for Fictional Characters pt. 2

Damian Wayne

(Also, I'm not including move sets because in my headcannon Pokemon do remember all their old moves. But humans choose to only use four)

For this AU I'm having the Wayne's own the Gotham City Gym, which specializes in Dark types. Most of the cannon events still happened. Just with a few tweaks here and there. (Dick's 20, Jason's 16, Cass is 15 Tim's 15 but younger than Cass and Damian's 13 because I love AUs where there closer in age).

Anyway here we go!

First things first in the Pokemon Universe his alias wouldn't be Robin since they don't exist. Instead I think it would be Rookidee, since thats the closest Pokemon to a Robin.

His Partner Pokemon and ace would be a Gligar

Name: Goliath

Gender: Male

Why: Gligar screams Goliath (his Batdragon) plus the coloring of his evolutions matches with Dami's Robin and Batman outfits

Story: He found Goliath while climbing a mountain for his training. At the time he was four and Goliath was a hatching. Damian ended up giving him some food, seeing that the hatching was hungry.

Grateful, the Gligar followed him hoping to return the favor.

When Damian's hand got broken on that same trip, Goliath was the one to help him finish his mission and get home safely.

Talia was impressed that Damian could tame a wild Pokemon without catching it, so she allowed him to keep him as his first Pokemon.

-----

Next he would have a Meowth

Name: Alfred

Gender: Female

Why: This one has to do with its evolution. Persian are said to only be loyal to trainers it likes and that it takes a lot to get them to like you. Their also said to be prissy and uptight. This reminded me of Damian. How it took forever for him to trust his brothers and his own snobby attitude. Thus I think it fits.

Story: After coming to live with his father Damian didn't know how to act. He saw his "brothers" and father treating their Pokemon so different than how the League did. They all trained hard. But, there was something eles: warm praise for a job well done, asking for insight on a case (they had taught their bipedal pokemon sighn language) and comfort on a bad day. His father and brothers treated their Pokemon like... people

In the League Pokemon where the lowest soldier, lower than the slaves or concubines. They trained, ate then they had to and got in their ball.

He had been a little more lenient in his training with Goliath. When asked he said that he was still a baby and he had to take things slow in this stage or he might develop too much muscle mass and be unable to fly.

He had kept him out of his ball with the excuse of developing muscle mass at a proper pace.

He liked Goliath's company. The Gligar was a good companion. But on the same level as another person?

He had expressed these thoughts to Pennyworth, the only person in the house to give him a straight answer when he needed it.

Pennyworth had explained to him that some people love to hold power over others and that Pokemon where an easy target, since they couldn't communicate their emotions as clearly as people could.

"Think of Mistress Cain. She sometimes cannot communicate with words, but we know that she's intelligent. But some people see her as less than intelligent and treat her as such because of the power it gives them."

Two weeks later Damian would come across a group of teenagers attempting to shave a Meowth. The Pokemon was little more than skin and bone and crying out on pain. So, Damian broke their fingers and shaved part of their heads for good measure.

He kept the Meowth and named her after the man who taught him about the abuse of power.

---

Next, a Poochyena

Name: Titus

Gender: Male

Why: These Pokemon and their evolution are ruthless with their pray, and only obey trainers with external skill.

Story: Raven gave Damian Titus as a gift. She said that she rescued him from an underground fighting ring (where the battles are to the death). He was still to young to battle so he didn't need much rehabilitation. The other Pokemon there though...

---

Now we have a Type Null

Name: Heretic

Gender: ???

Why: This Pokemon was created in lab, and artificial designed for the purpose of fighting, just like Damian. True I could have given him Mewtwo, but that cat seems to fit Kon more.

Story: Damian's mother had spent years creating Type: Null with the purpose of being able to kill any target. As a last test she wanted to see which of her creations was suppirrior. So she sent the Type Null out to (try and) kill her son.

Damian, with the rest of his team, beat the Pokemon but couldn't kill it. He had long since vowed to wash the blood from his hands. Instead he offered his hand to it and asked it to join him.

---

Here we have the hardest to explain... Mimikyu

Name: Habibi (I hope I spelled that right)

Gender: Female

Why: Damian is complex, he wants to be accepted and loved just like Mimikyu but dosent know how. Both try to mimic others in order to get that love, Damian his father and Mimikyu Pikachu. So I see this as Damian's spirit Pokemon in a way.

Story: He didn't know why it was so hard to fit in. Gods know he tried. But... little things confused him. Like how eveyone could understand each other without words or singhing. He had no problems with that on a battlefield, but in day to day life; it felt like he was on a separate server.

Like how Todd knew at breakfast with just a look that Drake was in a bad mood and how to help. Or how Grayson could audomadicly tell what kind of day at school the rest of them had withen a few minutes. Hell even Drake could tell what grunts ment what from father! Which ment good job, Which ment I'm glade your okay, or frustration either at them or at a case (Cass didn't surprise him, she had to learn how to communicate without words and watch body language and micro expressions).

School was no better; sometimes it was to load or bright othertimes, when everyone was doing a test, it felt to quiet. But, to much or to little, Damian was always aware of every movement, every sound. It was like the very instincts that saved his life every night where turned against him.

He turned to his nearly forgotten childhood habits to distract himself from everything around him. That only led to more whisper shouting and what even he could tell where displeased glares with a grunt of "fucking tapping" or a snap of "stop!" He knew it was disrupting but it was all be could do to drown out the noise or silence.

On one particularly bad day at school; apparently during one of their tests one of his classmates had had enough of Damian's tapping and decided to make a scene.

There was some yelling from the kid. A few cries in agreement. Before the teacher had gotten hem to settle down. He had demanded that Damian look him in the eye and when he finally did told him to stop with the tapping or else he would be sent to the office, Gym Leaders son or not.

He was the last to finish that test where he normally finished first. The silence had been to load!!

After that clusterfuck Damian finally headed home. He had texted Grayson saying that he was meeting a friend somewhere to work on a project and to not pick him up. In truth he didn't want his brother reading what kind of day he had had. He needed some time to himself.

That was how he found himself in a nearby park. It was filled with plenty of sounds that didn't suffocate him and the fall leaves where soothing to his eyes. Damian had Titus out of his ball as company, knowing that the pup loved park walks.

They had been walking for an hour when they came across a box set off just on the edge of the trail. "Free to Good Homes" was written on the side in black sharpie.

No sound was coming from inside, so he assumed that the had all been taken. Until Titus went closer sniffing at the seemingly empty box.

"Pooch Pooch"

"Hmmm... what is is it boy?" He asked as he walked closer to his Pokemon and the Box. Damian hoped he was wrong. It was cruel to leave a baby Pokemon all alone, especially since the weather was getting colder by the day.

Inside the box was in fact a lone Pokemon. At first glance it looked like a Pikachu. But something was off. It looked more like a doll than a living creature. If it wasn't for the small chirps it let out and slight way that it was shivering from the cold Damian would have written it off as a toy. No wonder it got left behind...

Damian reached down and picked up the mystery Pokemon as gently as he could.

"Come on beloved, lets go home."

He tucked the Pokemon in his jacket to warm it up before reaching for his phone to call Grayson for a ride home.

That night Damian locked himself away, even skipped patrol, and spent a sleepless night learning everything he could about his newest Pokemon.

---

That was inspired by this comic

---

Finaly, for his last spot Eevee!!

Name: Omni

Gender: Female

Why: I'm going to have all the Batfam members have an Eeveelution. This branch and the Batfam are both growing consistently. We all have our favorites but we love them all the same. So I think it fits.

Story: Everyone in the family had an Eevee or one of its evolutions. Damian's Father said that Eevee was the Wayne family symbol, it was potential, the ability to become whatever you wanted.

Though it surprised Damian that the Wayne symbol wasn't a Noibat or Noivern (Batman's ace) at first he eventually understood the logic in choosing such a Pokemon to represent the family name. That only made things harder for him being the only one not having one. Did they not truly see him as family?

On the one year anniversary of Damian arriving at The Mannor, his family through a small party. Pennyworth made his favorite foods, The Mannor was decorated in tacky streamers (Graysons' idea) and they watched some of Damian's favorite fims, their Pokemon curled up with them. His father had offered to take the day off from the gym. Until Todd suggested that Damian take on the challengers.

The Gotham gym was part of his heritage. Damian had been training for the day that he could finally help weed out the weak challengers just like his siblings sometimes did (think the battles you do before challenging a gym leader in the games).

On that day, if the challengers agreed to it, their final battle wasn't with Bruce Wayne the Dark Knight but instead his son. Most accepted thinking that it would be an easy win, that they had lucked out in not having to battle one of the stongest Gym Leaders in the League and could still get the Shadow Badge.

Those poor fools.

Damian was only allowed to use Alfred, Titus and Habibi since he used Goliath and Heretic primarily as Rookidee.

Damian fought seven trainers that day in 3v3 fights. Only two of them got the badge.

With the day overwith and the night rising, so did Gothams' protecters.

The night ended with exhausted body's and adrenaline crashes. Damian was ready to slip into a mini coma from the day he had but before he could head upstairs to The Mannor...

"Not so fast baby bat." Graysons' voice called out to him. "We got one more surprise for you."

Damian raised his eyebrow at that. What else could they do? His father came back from the locker rooms where he had been desuiting, it always took him the longest because of his "old man bones" as Todd said.

"Son," his father said "its Wayne tradition to get your first Pokemon when you turn ten years old. I missed that with you." He paused, eyes briefly shifting to the floor before they snapped back on Damian's face. "Luckily there's one tradition we didn't miss. When you've lived at The Mannor for a year or the adoption papers get finalized, I give my children this..."

He pulled a Poke'ball out of his poket and handed to Damian. "Go on son, let them out."

He did

Staring at him was his own Eevee.

---

AN: All of Damian's Pokemon (sans maybe Omni, I'm thinking of leaving her as an Eevee) will eventually evolve. Eventually.

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batsandbugs · 3 years

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Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy!

Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.

Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.

Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.

Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”

She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”

He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.

“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.

“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.

He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.

“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.

Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.

“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”

“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.

“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”

Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.

“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.

“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”

“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.

“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.

Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”

“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.

“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”

“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”

Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”

She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.

“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”

“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”

“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.

“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”

Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”

“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”

Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”

“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”

“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”

“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.

“Even worse.”

“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”

“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”

Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”

Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”

Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”

She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”

Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”

“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”

“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.

-0-0-

It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.

Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.

The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.

Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.

Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.

“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.

“I make no apologies.”

“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.

“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.

“I take offense to that.”

“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.

“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.

Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.

-0-0-

It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.

“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim. “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”

“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”

Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”

“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”

“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.

“He gets better.”

“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”

“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”

“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.

They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.

“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”

“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.

The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”

The scene switches to a metal ship.

“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”

“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”

Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.

Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.

“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”

“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”

“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”

“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”

“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”

Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.

The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.

“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”

They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.

“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?”

“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.

“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette.

“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”

“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.

“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.

“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.

“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'm not naive," she shot back.

He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating.

Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people.

The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.

“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.

“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”

“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.

The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-

“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”

“What war? What are you talking about?”

“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.

They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.

They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.

“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

“I think it was more like a hundred years!”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”

On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.

“Tt. Amateurs.”

"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”

“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”

“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.

“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.

“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”

“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great."

“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”

“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.

Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too)

@m3owww @your-resident-chimken-nuggie @loveswifi @fusser90@animegirlweeb @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere

#damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #damimari #mlb crossover #ml x dc #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne #moodboard #damientte #damianette #marinnette dupain cheng x damian wayne #mlb x dc #characters watch the show #maribat watching atla

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batarangsoundsdumb · 3 years

Text

yet another ask dump yeehaw!

do you ever think that jay's mother was one of those bitch who believes in horoscope and tarots and things like that and so he believes in these things too, or it is just me projecting?

sheila haywood took one look at jason's birthchart said 'nah this won't do' and left.

Wait, but what happens when the justice league does find out that Bruce and John fucked? Lmao it sounds like it would be hilarious, really, I don’t want a justice league that doesn’t make fun of Bruce for like his entire life.

barry runs out of the meeting immediately and comes back with an entire sti testing kit. diana fully seriously wants bruce to get tested while bruce is sitting there like 'come on guys, you're being ridiculous, i already checked twice'

john is standing in the corner clearly offended while bruce is just like 'don't even say anything, constantine, you fucked a shark'

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

on the one hand, good for him, on the other hand, bro, how do you still have a secret identity when your superhero name is just your last name,,,,

Your fic on ao3 was GOLD PLEASE CONTINUE I loved Dinah's cameo btw ( @purple-vixen

thanks so much! i already continued but this ask is like 10 years old because i'm a notorious procrastinator (also yes! i love dinah so much aahhhhhhhhhhhh)

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

bruce internally: holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit bruce externally: get out of my city, alien

AHHH ur multimedia fic is the only thing that brings me happiness anymore continue it forever pls

uhh thanks, but can't continue it forever because my attention span is that of a toddler on crack on a good day and i can't function without at least 10 things going on at the same time and music in the background

Oi, so I'm getting into dc and watching batman the animated series, and they use fruitcake a lot. Which I thought was very funny and wanted to share w you - Denilla

wait like fruitcake (food) or fruitcake (derogatory) ?

young justice 🤝 teen titans slut shaming batman

tim drake and dick grayson to their respective teams 'you guys stop it, that's my dad'

Happyhoganon: If an eighty year old Batman had fought crime in Gotham City for decades and the only threats to him and the city lately are a wheel chair bounded Penguin, your usual purse snatchers and a few con artists popping up every now and then, how well could the Dark Knight do in maintaining the peace in Gotham despite him being just somewhat fit to do that as an elderly man (which says A LOT given how old he is)

uhh he'll probably do what my grandpa does and that is ruthlessly prank them until they die of shame.

in the death in the family interactive movie there's an ending where Jason is tasked with raising Damian and he decides he's gonna raise Damian to take down the waynes and al ghuls which uh maybe isn't great BUT the idea of Jason raising Damian... PRICELESS. CHAOTIC. I just need more people to know about this :)

yes i saw that wow holy shit but jason would accidentally drop damian on his head one (1) hour in and jason just yeets him into the lazarus pit.

Headcanon: The Penguin has a really hard time fighting any of the Robins because of his avian obsession means there's always a small part of his mind that's like "Birb. Child. Protect" ( @subspacecadet )

as soon as dick becomes nightwing the penguin is like 'you know what, fuck this dude' and shoots at him.

Y'all talking about King Shark dating Constantine, let's not forget about John literally hooking up with Satan

listen there's a clear difference between monsterfucker and satanfucker in that king shark is literally a shark and satan still looks like a normal dude

Does everyone in Gotham think Batman is a teen dad?

everyone in gotham thinks batman has been around since gotham was founded, but they do think that bruce wayne is actually a teen father and dick grayson's biological dad.

why. why would you do that fancast when you know it will only hurt people

what? i loved my fancast it was really well done. i did it with good representation in mind and i really managed that with alfred pennyworth being ✨italian✨

Seeing james charles a jason gave me psychic damage how dare you i need to wash my eyes

well that's a you problem isn't it?

do you think dick grayson thirst tweets about nightwing just to annoy his family/cause problems on purpose in general?

he thinks nightwing is hot, next question.

holy jiminy cricket batman, its as cold as the good lords ass crack in here!!

i- what? this is why i don't fuck with english expressions it's way too goddamn weird

Brooooooo, your teen dad!Bruce au is soooo good. I've got brainrot.

Honestly if you ever write anymore, I'd read that shit twice. Sign me the fuck up. Good stuff, Good Stuff.

uh yeah i'm thinking about writing a fic, but i have exams coming up and i don't wanna fail because that would suck. but after i'll certainly be writing more tho

your teen dad AU is so great! bruce acting like a big brother for all of like a week before he's telling everyone about his son. what if in the AU dick meets the JL because they need to rescue him? maybe he's in trouble/kidnapped at a gala and bruce starts calling for JL. clark finds him and has to fly with dick to bring him home - that's how dick and clark meet and superman becomes dick's fave hero. he goes around the manor thinking he can fly with a red blanket draped around him like a cape.

actually- if you want a young dad! bruce fic with like that kinda stuff(just with damian) go check uhh- in for a penny by cdelphiki. it's really good and bruce is like 24/25-ish. (and dick's there!!!)

This account has solely convinced me that Tim is a trash goblin ( @hamilcat-and-magic-turtle )

because he is. that boy has slept in dumpsters on multiple occasions even if he is the son of a billionaire.

Okay but when you said victory dance I did think of the whole justice league defeating the big bad and then they all start flossing

well that's exactly what hal jordan does and that's why batman uses a gun now. no but the victory dance in my opinion is like the 'we're all in this together' dance from high school musical.

The horrors in Invincible s1 was nothing compared to the comics, I cant wait for s2

oh well okay, i mean i personally react to horror and violence by laughing awkwardly so i can't wait to be called a monster for accidentally laughing at a mass murder.

I'm currently watching Batman: The Brave and The Bold and- Bruce is just talking about Oliver like he's an old love (@nightwings-kid)

okay im going to watch that lmao that's totally and completely in character for him tho.

The invincible comic is like super gratuitous with its violence so much so I'm shocked the show was able to adapt it in a faithful way! Anyway had the show been live action it absolutely wouldn't have the same impact as it does as an animated show and I'm so glad so many people agree with me on that

also because a live action casting would've been like uhh amanda stenberg for amber, the dude- the guy from the supernatural but with a mustache for omni-man, and scarlet johanssen for debbie grayson

Debbie grayson is a milf, yes. You're welcome for the invincible propoganda, now you can questions your life. Bruce def seems like the perfect father next to Omni-man. Like they really took a rip off justice league and I was like well, now I'm attached even tho I was like hah I know who they're supposed to be. And then bam- death gore death gore gore gore sad Mark grayson just had to have daddy issues. Why does every character have daddy issues. I'm sick of the attacks

because daddy issues make a person arguably funnier, that's why i'm not even remotely funny (haha good dad flex). i liked that it was dark contextually, but not in the colouring, bc i hate when it's like 'uh yeah graphic murder and now a shot so dark you have to sit in a dark room and squint at the screen to faintly see the characters. (like dcau ugh)

About the Wayne insurance, for a moment I thought you would put the video with moans over the waves.

i mean- i could've done that, but rick rolling seemed more family friendly.

Its the first time in forever that im surpise rickrolled, i usually expect it. Congratulations (i really should know better this is tumblr)

i get rickrolled so often but i actually like the song so i dont really give a fuck

Actually, my information about Damian and John's kids is outdated because it was revealed that the old men telling the kids stories about the Supersons were actually Jon and Damian the whole time. I was blinded by my thirst for Grandpa!Bruce Wayne but I was wrong... I liked my version better, tbh (@artemisa97)

fair enough. but i'd honestly like to see damian and jon getting together, just because it's a really fun dynamic and their friendship was really cute when they were kids. (also idk maybe it would be nice to have one (1) main batfam/superfam character that's not cishet)

How am i JUST finding your blog skdskfkd you're so fucking funny and ur takes are hot

i thought u were calling me hot :( but youre not :( crime detected (but lmao thanks)

So I have depression and I swear that your memes are one of the few things that have made me laugh so thank you 💛🥺 (@katekanebadass)

aw you're welcome, and i hope you're doing okay!

The metropolis memes are so funny, I love them 💀😌

i think metropolis is also so fucking funny it deserves more attention imagine having your entire police force being upstaged by an alien from kansas and his kids

as an american i feel your complete lack of knowledge of us geography is just so sexy (platonic) ❤️

thanks so much (i also don't know any other geography, i'm not kidding, like you can tell me you're from hungary and it will just blank, there will be nothing that comes to mind)

In the DC universe they don't say "Can't have shit in Detroit" they say "Can't have shit in Gotham"

this just reminds me of that guy whose porch got stolen like the steps to his door, and i'm thinking of people living in gotham and waking up without a front door and going "can't have shit in gotham"

honestly all i know about chicago is the bean, so. what would gotham's famous sculpture be?

gigantic gargoyle statue in front of one of the police precincts because a villain thought it was a smart way to keep the police inside, but it's too heavy to move.

why tf do people go on about how batman "works alone" or how he's the "lone wolf" when he like 38290202 members in his family

bc people think it's cool that a grown man in his 30s has no friends or family instead of calling it what it is (sad)

Bruce is gotham's sugar daddy

why would say something so controversial yet so brave.

my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context

dick: gerard way are you in position, gerard way are you in position

tim: for the last fucking time, my codename is 'totally not count olaf' this week, abbafan 3000

dick: shut up my codename isn't 'abbafan 3000'

dick: it's 'abbafan number 1' and you know it

I have a feeling Tim drake is ur favourite batfamily member but okay u don't have favs if u say so ok

i mean he is, i won't deny it. but i love each and every one of the batfam just the same, i just have a weak spot for short dumbass nerds, because i'm a short dumbass nerd.

Omg i fuckin love boy meets world too fam shsjkfk

bro boy meets world was the shit!!! it was just fire and awesome and so fucking great like bro. it was so good im not even going to be accepting criticism

you know I find the whole "joker completes batman" thing a bit disgusting considering the horrendous stuff the batfamily went through because of the joker and let's not get started on the "joker has a point" thing like yeah he's this cool complex villain but he's absolutely batshit crazy

like yes! i get what you mean the joker just fucking sucks man he doesn't do shit for batman's character or the batfam he's literally just annoying as fuck. like the joker has a point' shit is so stupid. i will accept 'magneto was right' because he fucking was and i think he didn't do anything wrong, but joker? he's just like that. he's not even cool and complex he's just a weirdo with a bleach kink at this point.

ALSO YOUR RACISM POST- SO TRUE BESTIE

thanks bestie, i'm glad you agree.

in today's essay of why I think cass should become batman- I was thinking Tim would probably be the most efficient batman in many ways but I also think he wouldn't want to be batman tbh none of the batfamily members would want to be batman because they're trying to outgrow him but cass is the one who wants to represent the symbol that is batman

absofuckinglutely i will say it again and again that cass represents the batsymbol more than anyone in the batfam, in batgirl (2000) she literally didn't care about anything else than bruce's oath to not kill, she thought the batsymbol was more important than anything in gotham. she's just an excellent character because her motivation to not kill is not 'i'm scared i can't come back from it' or 'well my dad says no murder so i'll go along with it' but that she's killed somebody as a young child and she never wants to kill a human ever again and that's so fucking beautiful for a new batman like yes.

need more cass, duke and tim inclusion in gothamite memes

yes yes, a tall order of cass, duke and tim coming up in 1-14 business days

oldest to youngest batfam members cus I'm confused as shit

okay order of being taken in: dick, jason, tim, cass, damian, duke order of age: alfred, bruce, dick, cass, jason, tim, duke, damian (though cass and jason are around the same age general consensus is that cass is a little older)

I'm so confused Steph is a redhead?? like how was it that hard to get this right? the source material is literally right there and free

cw is jared, 19

do you receive anon hate? if so, how do you deal with it

uh no, i'm not remotely popular enough to get anon hate and i also don't say a lot of things that would attract anon hate, but i do send anon hate to @the-real-peter-parker because he forgot about the specialists from winx club

Wait how many languages do you speak??

uhh- 5 if you include latin, but that's a dead language and i'm really bad at it. but english, my native language, german, and french also, tho german and french not fluently.

You can mix aguaepanela with aguardiente 😈 and is tasty

okay but now i'm curious if the liquor deserves the 😈 emoji or if that's a you problem. but i googled it and it looks like something you'd take one sip of and then not remember the rest of your evening.

#i love all of you guys so much thanks for all these asks #some of these are literally from march but fuck it #the day tumblr puts dates next to anon messages is the day i close my inbox crawl into a hole and die #it's such a basic task to answer asks but i don't want to bother anyone with asks clogging up their timeline #and if i don't have a funny or good answer i'm like 'uhh okay won't answer it now then'#so this is for you #also i deleted a few asks because it gives me mental pain to see my inbox go over 50 and it's almost at 100 #i was complaining about having too many asks to the-real-peter-parker like months ago and then i had 45 asks in my inbox #now it's amassed to going over 100 twice #but no i love all of you and you're great and you're all fantastic and i lvoe you #muchos kiss kiss #kiss kiss for my kiddies lvoe you #invincible spoilers #dc #dcu #dc comics #ask #anon #bataranswers #i really wanna try aguapanela now i'm gonna see if i can find panela somewhere and review it for you babes #uh yeah that's it #muchos gracias for all your questions babes

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thelittleredrobinhood · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday to You

In honor of Batman Day I’ve decided so post my first fic (it was meant for Jason Todd's birthday but hey its only a month late). Also, a special thank you to @reese-haleth for helping me edit!

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth

Length: 1,900 words

Summary: A song fic to Happy Birthday about four of the most important birthdays in Jason Todd's life.

Trigger Warnings: Homelessness, Major Character death (canonical). If you would like me to add any please let me know.

12th

Jason runs faster than he had in his entire life, an angry cop close on his tail. Just as he’s about to be caught he notices a fire escape up ahead. Acting quickly, he pulls himself up, still clutching his prize, and climbs out of view. From his hidden perch, he watches as the officer looks around the alley below, then angrily goes on to continue his search elsewhere.

“Just like taking candy from a baby,” Jason mutters to himself, still half out of breath.

After another moment he leaves his spot and returns to the streets, making sure to avoid the local cruisers out looking for trouble. Eventually he reaches the part of town even the cops won’t go and he’s home free. Well he’s free, he doesn’t exactly have a home to go to, but that’s a problem for later.

On the cracked steps of an old abandoned building he finally stops to enjoy his ill-gotten gains. A box filled with a half dozen doughnuts, minus the one the officer was eating when Jason stole the rest. Glazed, not his favorite; He always liked chocolate best, but he wasn’t in a position to complain. He smiles to himself as he holds up the first treat.

“Welp, it’s no birthday cake but it will have to do,” he says to himself. “Happy birthday to me, 11 may have sucked but maybe 12 will be better,” the young boy finally smiles. “I guess it’s time to make my wish.”

Just as he is about to, an odd shadow passes by. He quickly looks up, just in time to catch a fading glance of the Batman himself, running across the rooftops, his path lit only by the moon. Jason waits another moment, but no one follows behind the vigilante. Robin had been gone for a few months now, though no one knows what happened for sure. Some say he died, some say he quit, some say he ran off to California.

“Psh, California, what an idiot. If I were Robin I’d never leave,” Jason mumbles as he finally tears his eyes from the sky and looks back down at the box in his lap.

“Well, these doughnuts aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

He blows out his imaginary candles and wolfs down his dinner.

Happy Birthday to you

15th

An alarm blares as the light shines through his window. Normally, Jason would ignore it and go back to sleep, since Alfred would wake him up later, but today was different. He bolts awake after just the first beep and begins getting ready. Still struggling with his pants, he throws open the door and runs downstairs, sliding a little on the hardwood floors at the bottom of the grand staircase, he catches himself just in time. Before becoming Robin, he definitely would have fallen on his butt. It looks like all his training really is paying off.

Stopping himself before the doorway of the main dining room, he makes himself presentable and walks in as calmly as possible.

“Morning B,” Jason says nonchalantly as he enters the room and takes a seat.

Bruce is sitting peacefully at the head of the table with his usual cup of coffee and today's paper. He glances up at his ward with a knowing smile on his face.

“Good morning, Jaylad. Sleep alright?”

Just as Jason was about to respond his nose caught the scent of breakfast. He snapped his head to the kitchen door to see Alfred bringing in the world’s largest tray of pancakes. It’s a yearly tradition; Jason always gets his favorite foods on his birthday.

Today is always his favorite out of the whole year, everything about it is awesome. Bruce always takes off work to celebrate with him, and later he would open presents. They would play video games and basketball and whatever else Jason could think of. Maybe Dick would even swing by for a bit! It's the best.

Although every moment is great, Jason’s favorite part is the end. They will all gather in the dining room, but Jason will get to sit at the head of the table this time. Bruce will turn out the lights and Alfred will bring in a homemade birthday cake. They’ll sing to him and he’ll blow out real candles, like in the movies. He could picture it now.

The only problem is, he can’t figure out just what to wish for. He has everything he could ever want. He finally has a place; he finally has a home. It takes him the whole day to figure out his wish, but when he finally found it, he knew.

He wished to stay right here, for the rest of his life.

Happy Birthday to you

18th

The night air was freezing on his skin, the absence of the sun leaving his world cold. Today used to be a day of celebration, now it only brought pain. In his heart he knows he did all he could, that he had given his son everything and more. But then why did he blame himself?

Bruce follows the overgrown path to the small graveyard. He did not come here often, though that only makes the guilt stronger. He should try to fix that, but he never will.

Today he swallows the pain and guilt and kneels to the ground, placing a lone rose before a small grave. Too small, just like the boy buried underneath it. He had never had the chance to grow much, as years of malnutrition kept him far shorter than his peers, but Bruce had never minded. It meant he got to carry him a little longer, before he grew too big. He wished he could carry him again, just one last time.

The tears came before he could stop them. The water flooding his cheeks as the memories flooded his mind. A small boy laughing, opening presents just a few years ago. He would have been 18 today, officially a man.

Maybe it's better this way.

The thought crawls through his brain, dredged up from the darkest corner of his mind.

He will get to stay Bruce's little boy forever, he will never leave him. He will stay the perfect child, untainted by the rebellion of youth and the pain of adulthood, but deep-down Bruce knew, he would watch all of that happily if it meant he got to see his son again. He would do anything to feel the pain of watching his child outgrow him. He would give everything to feel something other than this. Anything but this.

He stands abruptly, he has to leave. He’s too close to breaking down, to losing it completely, and if he did that, he may never be able to put himself back together. That’s why he never comes here, it’s why he can’t. Too many people rely on him now.

He takes a deep breath and one last look at the grave. He tries to say it, to form the words on his tongue, but they never come.

He walks away.

Happy Birthday dear Jason

20th

Red Hood runs like he has been running his whole life, like he’ll never stop. He doesn’t bother to see if the cops are still chasing him, he doesn’t care, he just runs.

He turns down an alley and spots an old fire escape and its instinct. He hops up and climbs until the street is far beneath him. He hears the cops down below, sees their lights flashing in the night sky. He remembers when he used to be scared of them, not anymore. Now they’re scared of him.

They won’t follow him here, but it doesn’t matter, he keeps running. Truth be told, it's not them he’s running from today. Finally, he stops and takes a moment to catch his breath. He walks to the roof's edge to rest when he realizes where he is.

The building had been condemned many years ago, now just a rotting shell and cracked front steps. When he was younger, he used to come to this place all the time. It was far enough from the worst part of town that he could handle himself, but just close enough that the cops wouldn’t come near. It was safe here.

He takes a seat and rests on the edge of the roof, his legs hanging over the side, feet dangling far above the street below. There was a time in his life he used to dream of this view, staring up at the rooftops, wishing for a different life. He learned the hard way to be careful what you wish for.

The rest of the memories hit him full force, everything he was avoiding smashing into him like a bomb. Images of a happy boy bursting behind his eyelids, eating pancakes and playing basketball. Fragments of a life he lost; one he can never have back. A life he would give anything to have back, especially today. No one even remembered what today is, it used to be his favorite day of the year.

He loses track of time as he watches life go on below him, so much time has passed since he was last here, but some things never change. It’s quite when he first notices it, the flicker of a familiar shadow. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react, but lets him come.

A quiet thump sounds behind him, he doesn’t even flinch.

“What do you want B?” he asks without turning around.

A moment later the footsteps come closer and a large figure sits down calmly beside him. They sit in silence for a moment, what a sight that must be. The Red Hood, a wanted murderer, and the dark knight himself. Though Hood had long since stopped worrying about things like that and if the people below noticed them, they didn’t care enough to show it.

“Why are you here B?” Hood asks again.

“Do you think I forgot?” Batman turns to his son and removes his mask, transforming instantly to Bruce Wayne. “We still celebrated, even when…” he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence. Red Hood turns to him in surprise, and after another moment removes his mask as well. Becoming just Jason Todd.

“Why?” he asks.

“You’re family,” Bruce says

“Even after all these years? Even after everything I’ve done?”

“When you were gone, I would have done just as much and more to bring you back, no matter how long it took. You’re my son,” Jason looks away to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

“What now?” Jason says. His voice rough, quiet.

“Whatever you want Jay-lad. It’s your birthday after all,” Bruce responds, his voice just as broken. “Alfred even made cake.”

“Yeah, alright. I could definitely go for some cake.” Jason smiles weakly. Bruce nods and replaces his cowl, gesturing for Jason as he leaps from the roof. Red Hood replaces his helmet and follows into the moonlight.

Down below, two odd shadows cast the street in darkness as Batman and his Robin run across the rooftops once more.

Happy Birthday to you

#batmanday #bruce wayne #jason todd #tw: major character death #tw: homelessness #angst #but with a happy ending #birthdays #my first fic

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elareine · 4 years

Note

Deaged Jaybird anyone?

Well, judging from ao3 and tumblr, I think the answer to that question is ‘everyone and amazingly so,’ but I might as well throw my hat into the ring, thank you <3

I thought this was gonna be sweet and funny. It didn’t exactly turn out that way.

rewind, fast forward, stop Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply - Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Temporary Character Death, Angst Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Age Regression/De-Aging, De-Aged Jason Todd, Family Issues, Family Feels, Loss of Trust, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt with Temporary Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, The Batfamily Needs Therapy, Bittersweet, Unreliable Narrator

“If he says the words unstable molecules one more time, I’m going to hit something,” Dick muttered.

“Jason’s been gone for two hours, and you’re already trying to replace him?” Tim asked. It was a weak joke, and Dick didn’t laugh.

Nygma and Crane were still arguing at metaphorical gunpoint (i.e., genuine sword end), bent over the makeshift crib.

“I didn’t expect this to happen, either! What’s the point of posing riddles if he’s a baby?”

“Well you still fucked up and now we’re here, basically hostages—”

Bruce held up a hand. Everyone fell silent.

“So. His age will change several times?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot predict the intervals.”

“No.”

“What does he remember?”

“I don’t know. We should ask him…”

“…when he reaches an age where he can speak, yes. Will this stop once he reaches the age he’s supposed to be?”

“I don’t—”

“Then we will find out. Nygma, you have 24 hours to fix this.” He turned and looked at Dick. “Call reinforcements and start the lab work.”

Dick nodded, but whatever he was going to ask wasn’t going to be heard because Jason chose that moment to start wailing.

Everyone froze. Despite all the arguing, the fact that they know had to care for a baby hadn’t seemed real until that moment.

Bruce, though, just lifted Jason up and to his chest with the same natural competence with which he handled explosives and batarangs. “There, there, Jaylad. You’re hungry, hmm? I bet Alfred has already prepared a bottle. Let’s go find him, shall we?”

——

Dick volunteered to stay home and watch the baby that evening. Except when he returned to the crib with a freshly prepared bottle, it was a toddler staring back at him.

“Hey there, little man,” Dick greeted him.

Silence.

Dick tried again. “Jason, are you in there?”

The kid stared back at him, clearly wondering what the strange man was talking about. His eyes were so blue. “Me.”

“Yes, you’re Jason,” Dick agreed. “Do you remember me?”

Jason’s brow furrowed as if he was concentrating really hard. “No?”

“That’s okay. I’m Dick. I’m—” your brother. But how did you explain that to a toddler who didn’t remember any siblings? “A friend.”

After a minute of stern evaluation, Jason’s expression melted into a smile, and he held up his short chubby arms. “Up?”

“Of course.” Dick bent down and scooped Jason up with one swift motion, bouncing him up and down for a few seconds, to Jason’s great delight and giggles. Then he settled him onto his hip. “How about some food, buddy?”

“Hungry!” Jason declared. It sounded like ‘angry.’ Dick wanted to record that and use it as Jason’s ringtone forever.

He couldn’t very well give him the baby formula now, so: “Let’s go to the kitchen, then, huh? I like midnight snacks, too.”

“Snack,” Jason repeated. He seemed to like that word. “Snack, snack, snack!”

“Yes, snack. Hey B,” he called softly through the non-emergency line as they walked through the corridor, “listen to who woke up.”

“Baba?” Jason asked. Dick had no idea whether he meant Bruce or was asking for his own father. Either way, it was devastating.

“Jaylad,” Bruce murmured back. Dick didn’t call him out on the use of real names. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“No.”

Dick tried not to laugh at the sleepy pout. “To be fair, I don’t know how ‘slept like a baby for hours,’ literally, affects his sleep schedule.”

“How old is he?”

“About… two? Maybe?” Dick was not an expert in estimating the age of children, so sue him. “Maybe younger. He’s real small, and he doesn’t remember me.”

Silence. “N, we’re coming home.”

The bats had barely been out for an hour. “Sure. See you soon.”

——

It was Tim who discovered the next transformation. He’d taken over the early morning shift by virtue of not sleeping anyway. Jason’s room had been quiet; Tim had just wanted to make sure he was doing okay when he was greeted with a much larger shape in the bed than he’d expected.

Which, fuck, that couldn’t be good, right? Last time Jason had only skipped a couple of years, but now he was at least six.

The figure was also too still to be asleep. Tim switched on the nightlight they’d installed by the door and looked at Jason. Yeah, his eyes were definitely open. It was eerie, the way he held himself still as if he was trying to disappear into the darkness. Don’t notice me, his position screamed. I’m not here, go away.

It was so familiar. Tim couldn’t breathe for a second for the way it was a perfect reversal of the way he himself had spent his childhood. Notice me, look at me, don’t leave.

“Hey,” Tim called out softly, unconsciously imitating Dick’s voice. “Can’t sleep?”

“Who are you.” His voice was clear and hard, a far cry from the sweet toddler who had played with Tim’s cape when they’d come home from patrol at midnight.

That had been four hours ago. It was going to be a long day, wasn’t it?

“I’m Tim,” he said. “You don’t remember me right now because you’re… sick, but we know each other.”

The distrust did not wane. “Where am I?”

“At my father’s house. Wayne Manor.” Tim smiled. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Who else is here?”

“Your family.”

That did not have the expected effect, at all. Jason shrank back, hands gripping the blanket tight even as his expression remained blank.

Tim’s hand moved to his bracelet and pressed a button. He’d promised Bruce to wake him up if there was a development. Besides, he was in over his head here, and he knew it.

“I’m going to call them, okay?” There was no answer.

It took less than two minutes for the doorway to be filled with people. Bruce was first, of course, closely followed by Dick, with Damian, Duke, and Cass lingering just behind them in the hallway.

“You’re going to crowd him,” Tim pointed out. “We’re all strangers.”

“Tim is right.” Bruce stepped forward. “Stay back.”

They watched as he crouched down in front of the bed. “Hi, Jason. You don’t remember me, and I know that’s scary.”

“I’m not scared.”

Tim couldn’t see his face, but he would bet good money that Bruce smiled at that. “No, you aren’t because you’re brave, aren’t you.”

“Hmm. Where’s mom?” Jason asked.

“She’s not here. I’m sorry. You’re staying with our family and me for now.”

“Where’s dad?”

“He’s not here, either, but—”

Jason’s shoulders deflated.

Oh. Oh.

Tim could feel the tension rack up in the room as every single family member was simultaneously filled with rage.

Bruce, however, looked calm. “As long as we are here,” he said, quietly but with the kind of conviction that could move mountains, “no one is going to hurt you. Your mother is fine, and so are you.”

And Jason looked up and believed him. Tim could see it in the way he relaxed, how he slumped down against Bruce’s bulk as if it was the only thing holding him up. He didn’t say anything.

Tim felt a gentle tug on his elbow. He followed the others outside, quietly, leaving Bruce to keep vigil. It was touching, but something about the scene bothered Tim.

“Do you think,” he quietly asked Dick as the group dispersed, “that we should call someone else? His friends? You have Roy’s number.”

“It will help, being here, when he reaches Robin age. They’re strangers until he’s an adult.”

That wasn’t the point. Tim frowned. “I know you think he should be with family when he’s like this. But Dick—we haven’t been his family for a long time. We shouldn’t see this stuff.”

Dick swallowed, but he didn’t argue with that. “B already knows.”

“Not all of it. Not what will happen when—”

“Yeah.” Dick’s shoulders slumped. “But do you think you can convince B of that?”

“No.” Tim sighed. “No, I don’t.”

——

“Master Jason, what are you doing in the kitchen?”

It was eight a.m., and even Master Tim was asleep by now. Alfred had kept an ear out for the sound of a preschooler waking up, but Master Jason must’ve aged again. He looked to be about nine now.

The kid frowned. “I don’t know who you are, but I need to make breakfast, or mom won’t eat.”

Alfred took a moment to fix his apron, blinking discreetly. “Of course, Master Jason. Your mother, however, isn’t here at the moment. Would you like to help me prepare some pancakes?”

——

There was a sound like something heavy falling, then a curse. “Where the fuck am I?”

Dick and Tim exchanged a glance. They’d installed Jason in front of the tv, at first, but he’d been more interested in the few children’s books Bruce kept around for guests.

Tim had tagged along—at this point, he had somehow wound up one of Jason’s primary caretakers, and wasn’t that a sentence he hadn’t expected himself to ever think? Looked like the time for children’s books had run out.

When they walked over to the armchair Jason had buried himself in, they found a pile of limbs in front of it, scrambling to get up and look at them. The family had taken to dressing Jason in the largest clothes they could get him in without them falling off, just to spare his modesty at the next change. Not that Jason had really grown much over the last few episodes…

At least he was dressed as he woke up in an unfamiliar living room because he couldn’t remember the previous episode or his adult life, Tim thought. Honestly, this curse/science mishap/whatever seemed hellbent on making their lives as miserable as possible.

Dick advanced cautiously. “Jason—”

“And you would be?” the boy asked, his voice suddenly much lighter.

“My name’s Dick Grayson, and you’re safe here.”

“Hmm, am I?” There was something wrong with the way Jason looked at Dick. His weight was shifted to the side, pushing his hip to the front, his long lashes almost fluttering, and there was something challenging in his gaze as if he was daring Dick—as if he was—

The idea was so incongruous—so impossible—that it took Tim too long to connect the dots. It was the exact pose he saw the working girls and boys adopt, night after night when they approached a car.

The thing with Tim was: He could be thrown off a building, and his brain would still keep on working all the way down. (No, seriously, that happened several times.) It was just how it was. So he could be shocked at what was happening, at what he’d just learned about Jason, and still notice that Dick wasn’t.

Perhaps he was making a mountain of a molehill, then. Perhaps Jason had just seen too much on the streets and was trying to play along, to give Dick what Jason thought he wanted, and then he’d punch him when he got too close and get out of here.

Perhaps.

“Let’s just—wait it out, okay?” Dick sighed. “You got temporary amnesia. It’ll all be clear tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Jason looked like he didn’t believe him, but was willing to run with it. “You got some food?”

——

“Oh, hey Dick! You look different!”

Dick thought he was about to cry with relief. Finally, a Jason that knew them, that wouldn’t have to be reassured about their intentions every few hours. “Hey, Jason.”

“Is it for a case?”

“Something like that,” he said. “You’re in the future, sort of. We have to wait a few hours before you can go back.”

Jason’s eyes went wide. “Really? That’s so cool! Can I talk to myself? Where am I? What year is it? What am I doing?”

“We can’t tell you that,” Tim said suddenly. “You know. Time travel code. Gotta follow the rules.”

“Ah.” Jason nodded as if that made any sense. “But you can tell me about other things, right? What about the cave? Can I see how it changed?”

“No, not the cave—” not while that damn memorial was still there, “—but Alfred has a collection of photos in one room if you want to see.”

That would be fine. Jason wasn’t in any of those, anyway.

“Whoa,” Jason commented when he saw how many pictures there were. “This family sure has grown. Wait, who is that?”

“That’s me,” Tim said.

Jason frowned. “That’s a Robin outfit. Are you Robin after me?”

And Dick—he could see how Tim tensed up. Understandably so, they had all heard what Jason called him. “Yeah, I—I didn’t mean to repl—you were—”

“It’s okay,” Jason shrugged. “Robin is more than one person, right? Dickie here said that. You don’t stop being Robin. You just share it.”

Tim blinked once. Then again.

Dick watched in some concern, because—surely that’s what he said to him back when he gave Robin to Damian, too? Right? It was all such a blur, but he must have.

Jason was already moving on to the next picture. “Wow, are these your wings?!”

“Yeah.”

“Did you make them? That’s so cool, I wanna fly too!”

Dick watched in amusement as a blush spread across Tim’s face. “I could show you the plans?”

“That would be fun! It could be a project.” Then he whirled around. “Do you go to school?”

“Uh, not really.”

Jason frowned. “You should. Grades are important. You can’t go superheroing forever if you don’t have money.”

“That’s true.” Tim looked suitably chastised. Dick bit down on a laugh as he watched Jason walk along Alfred’s little gallery, commenting on everything he saw and pulling Tim along.

God, thinking about the kid they saw yesterday, this Jason was a miracle. Dick knew what it meant to pull yourself up after darkness crashed down on you, how to find a way to smile after you lost everything.

And he knew, too, what a single person who cared for you—who believed in you could do.

(Maybe Dick should’ve remembered that when Jason became a miracle for the second time.)

Bruce had been that for both of them. Even now, Dick could see him at the doorway, watching Jason with such pride and unbearable longing on his face. Then a shadow fell over his expression, and he turned away.

“Dick!” Jason called over. “Tim has never heard the train story! C’mon, you’re the best at telling it.”

“He hasn’t heard it because it’s embarrassing,” Dick whined, but he walked over and joined them. Might as well make the most of this, right?”

——

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Zatanna said. “There’s nothing I can do.”

She was magic, Cass knew, and Bruce didn’t like magic. So if he was asking her for help… Duke, next to her, looked worried, as well.

They weren’t letting the two of them see Jason, and that was okay. Neither of them had ever been close to Jason. Not that Dick or Tim had been, exactly, but they cared in a way Cass and Duke admittedly didn’t.

“Is there anything that could slow down his aging process, at least?”

“Nothing but putting him into stasis, and he would not thank you for that, Bruce.”

Duke dared to ask: “But Nygma said the effect of the gas should stop once he’s reached his proper age, right? So that should be… alright?”

“And what,” Bruce ground out, “if the next time he phases forward, he’s dead?”

“Bruce.” Zatanna put a hand on his shoulder, empathy in every line of her body.

Bruce shook her off as if he couldn’t bear the touch. “We don’t know if he’ll wake up this time.”

For a second, Cass wanted to hurt everyone who made Bruce sound like that. But she knew there was nothing she could do. Love, she knew, cut like that sometimes.

——

Damian was well aware that they would prefer to keep him far away from Todd. To a certain extent, he understood. He would not wish more people than necessary to watch him relive his own childhood, either.

However, no one in this family was prepared for what was coming next. Damian knew.

The minute the screaming began, Damian walked into the room.

Jason was convulsing on the bed. Dick was frantically checking him for injuries, and Damian clicked his tongue. “That won’t help. He is not bleeding.”

Bruce turned to him. “Damian, what—”

“He’s in pain. His body is half-alive, half-dead,” Damian told them calmly. His voice wasn’t shaking. It wasn’t. “It won’t stop until he swims in a Lazarus Pit.”

His father should not look like this. Helpless. Pitiful. Damian resented him for it, just a little bit. Father had not been there the first time. This would only last for hours, and all he had to do was wait. The crushing weight of how to fix this was not on him as it had been on Mother.

“I’m going to get a tranquilizer,” Dick murmured.

——

Duke wondered what they would do if Jason woke up in full rage mode. He had seen the files, had read everything he could the minute this started happening. Cass had told him the rest, pieced together from hints her brothers had dropped over the years. There was no way they could deal with that if they were unprepared and Jason was in their home. No way.

So he was… nervous. Just a bit. Enough so that he was camping out in front of the bedroom that they were keeping Jason for now. Sure, Jason had been medicated, but Duke had seen Bruce trying that on Red Hood before. Red Hood had barely slowed down. Whatever the Lazarus Pits were, exactly, they sure did a number on a person’s metabolism.

Duke got his answer when Bruce sent everyone out of the room. Batman would wait alone, then. Dick and Tim obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

Tim, however, returned a minute later with Bruce’s utility belt, shock full of batarangs and other weapons. The older man, however, hesitated to take it.

“Bruce,” Tim said, and he very gently touched a scar on his neck.

Bruce took the belt.

——

The next morning, Jason left.

Minutes before, Bruce watched him as he woke up.

He had known as soon as he had seen Jason as a toddler that his son would not forgive him for this. The others, maybe. They had only tried to help. Bruce was the one too selfish to let Jason keep his secrets, bring him to people he trusted.

Because that sure as hell wasn’t him anymore. Deservedly so or not, Bruce had had to face that reality a long time ago.

Still, when Jason opened his eyes and there was only a tinge of green in them, nothing like the rage of the pit, just like they had been the last time Bruce had seen him without the mask—for that one moment, Bruce allowed himself to hope.

Maybe, just maybe, Jason wouldn’t remember. Then he could use the whole thing as a learning experience—see it as bonding, even—something that would allow them to finally move on; that would help Bruce to find the right trigger to get Jason to give up his mad crusade and come home.

Then Jason blinked, and his eyes were empty even of hate.

“My phone?” was all he asked.

“In the cave.” Bruce kept his voice even because what else could he do?

Jason nodded. Then he left, and he did not come back.

#elareine writes #rewind fast forward stop #batfamily #jason todd

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thebluenebula · 3 years

Text

Ashleigh Wayne AU Masterlist

Siobhan's First Visit (Part 1/2)

~1700 words

Kidnapped (Part 2/2)

Major Characters: Ashleigh(OC), Siobhan (OC), Cassie Sandsmark, Harper Row

Minor Characters: Alfred Pennyworth, Carrie Kelley, Duke Thomas

Ashleigh's best friend from back Ireland is finally coming to visit, what could go wrong?

"Nervous?" Cassie asked, as the pair watched another plane land.

"A little," Ash admitted.

"Why?"

"It's been over a year, maybe she'll be different, or not like me any more."

Cassie took Ash's hand in hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "She's one of your best friends, time or distance won't change that."

Ash lay her head onto Cassie's shoulder. "Thank you for coming with me."

"I wouldn't miss the chance to meet Siobhan in person. So, what exactly should I be looking for?" She asked, gesturing to the crowd of people going in, and out of the terminal.

"Curly red hair, pale skin, freckles, green eyes."

"Irish, got it."

It wasn't long before Siobhan arrived. She immediately dashed over, and wrapped her arms around Ash. "It's so good to see you."

"You too, I've missed you."

"I'm sorry I took so long, I couldn't find my bag," she let go of Ash, and looked to Cassie, "At least you weren't waiting alone, Cassie Sandsmark, right?"

"Right," she shook her hand, "it's nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise," Siobhan glanced at Ash, "I was beginning to think she'd made you up."

"I'm as real as you," Cassie stated.

"Or are you?"

"Yes?"

"Maybe," Siobhan turned to Ash, "you're just paying her to show up, and pretend to your girlfriend."

"Yes, Siobhan, I have in fact paid Cassie copious amounts of money to pose as my girlfriend."

"Knew it."

Cassie giggled. "Should I expect a lot of this?"

"You never know what to expect with Siobhan."

"I don't know what to expect of you," Siobhan retaliated, prodding her, "we have a lot of catching up to do."

"We can catch up in the car, I don't want to be late for dinner, Jay's cooking."

The three headed to the car.

"So who drove you here," Siobhan asked, "or have you learned to drive yet?"

"Alfred," Ash replied, gesturing to the man waiting by the car, "and I am learning to drive."

"About time," Siobhan smiled at Alfred, "I've heard a lot about you too."

"Likewise, may I take your bags?"

Siobhan spent the car ride to the manor catching them up on what she had been up to in Ireland since Ash had left.

Soon they reached the manor, and Siobhan's jaw dropped as she stepped out of the car. "Holy shit."

Ash stood by her. "I showed you photos."

"None of them did it justice."

"I know."

"Think he'd adopt me?"

"Do not tempt him," Alfred warned as he walked past, carrying her bags.

"Let me help you," Ash said, attempting to take a suitcase.

Cassie smacked her hand away. "I'll help him, you go catch up with her. Why else did you bring me, if not for manual labour?"

"You know, that's not why I invited you."

"I know, Ash, it was a joke, I promise, but seriously go catch up with her, I've got these."

Ash reluctantly agreed, and went over to Sobhan, who had wandered away to admire one of the many sculpted bushes.

Siobhan glanced back at her as Ash approached. "Cassie's cute, Ash, the pictures didn't do her justice either. If she wasn't dating you, I'd definetly try my luck."

Ash glared at her. "Seriously?"

"You still haven't forgiven me, have you?"

"You broke his heart."

"He forgave me."

"I never will, not for that," Ash sighed, "look, I don't want this stay to get off to a bad start."

"A little late for that, don't you think?"

"You two coming?" Cassie shouted to them from the door.

"Can we just pretend this never happened?" Ash asked Siobhan.

"Course," she lightly punched Ash's shoulder, and took off up the steps, "last one in is sleeping on the floor."

Ash smiled, and quickly took off after her. "You know neither of us have to sleep on the floor."

"Whichever one of us is last does."

Siobhan beat Ash to the door by a second, due to Ash slipping halfway up the steps.

"I'll inform Master Bruce that you have arrived," Alfred told them, "if you head to the dining room, Miss Siobhan can get acquainted with the others before diner."

"Thanks Alfred."

The three headed to the dining room where most of the Wayne's were waiting for dinner.

As Ash expected, Siobhan immediately got along well with her siblings. Dinner soon arrived, along with the rest of the Wayne's. The dinner went well, typical questions, lots of banter, everyone had taken an immediate liking to Siobhan's outgoing personality.

Afterwards, the three decided to head to Ash's room, along with Harper, Carrie, and Duke.

"So, where's the famous Kate that I've heard so much about?" Siobhan asked as they left the dining room.

"Italy, hopefully enjoying herself."

"And I was so looking forward to meeting her."

"One of her friends planned a trip away, she didn't know even know till the night before."

Once in Ash's room, Siobhan plopped herself down on the bed. "So soft, though I still don't understood your insistence on having a single bed."

"It takes up less place."

"This room is at least three or four times bigger then your old one. How much more room could you need?"

"You never know."

"So, what now?"

Ash glanced to the others, they all shrugged. "I don't know, what do you want to do?"

Siobhan smirked. "I've got a couple of ideas."

The week came, and went, and soon came the final day of the visit. The group had managed to do everything Siobhan could think of, leaving her with only one idea left.

"I can't leave America without visiting at least one pub."

Harper looked to the others. "It has been a while."

Carrie excitedly jumped up from the couch. "I'm in, let's go."

"I'll grab the IDs," Duke said, as he left the room.

"Oh yeah," Siobhan muttered, "You have to be twenty one to drink here. Will that be a problem?"

"Not where we're going," Harper explained, "the IDs are just incase."

Carrie, and Siobhan left the room, excitedly chattering, leaving Ash, and Harper alone.

"Are you alright?" Harper asked.

"Fine."

"It's just... you've been quiet all night."

"I'm fine, Harper," Ash smiled at her, "let's catch up with the others."

"Alright, how about you call Cassie, see if she wants to meet us there?"

"I'll call her, yeah."

Cassie met them at the bar. Once inside, Siobhan insisted on ordering the drinks, so her, and Ash took a seat at the bar, while the others got a booth.

Once she order, Siobhan looked to Ash. "You're paying, right?"

"Course."

"Then I am going to enjoy tonight." She turned to the bartender. "One for me, one for her."

"Just for her. I'm not drinking tonight."

"Boring, two for me then. Trust you, Ashleigh, go to a bar, and don't get alcohol. I bet you haven't even drank yet, have you?"

"I have too."

"Is that right? What happened?"

"Nothing, I had a couple drinks with my siblings, that's it."

Harper leaned against Ash's back. "You seem to have left out the part where we got pissed drunk, and begged Kate to give us tattoos."

"You what?" A look of surprise was struck across Siobhan's face. "Maybe you're not the same girl that I knew back in Ireland."

"Maybe not."

"Did you get a tattoo?"

"No, I didn't."

The three headed to the booth with the drinks, and the group enjoyed the night

Almost an hour later Cassie stood up from the booth, and tugged Ash's arm. "Come on, let's get some fresh air."

Ash followed her out of the pub, a cold breeze went through the two, Cassie wrapped her arms around Ash, and cuddled into her. "You alright?"

"Course, are you?"

"Don't flip this around, Harper mentioned you seemed off."

"You know I get like that sometimes, you don't have to worry about it."

"This is different, the happier everyone in there gets," she gestured to the pub, "the more off you seem."

"It's nothing Cassie."

"Ash, you can talk to me about anything, you know that."

"I know," she leaned into Cassie's shoulder, "and thank so much for that."

A cough caught their attention. Siobhan stood a few feet away, grinning. "Am I interrupting? I can leave."

They broke apart. "That's okay," Ash said, "what are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you, you just kinda disappeared."

"I just needed some air," Cassie lied, "that place smells like someone died in there."

"This being Gotham, someone probably has," Ash added.

"How about a walk?" Siobhan suggested, gesturing up the street.

The two agreed, and they headed up the street, chatting, and looking in the windows of the shops they passed.

Cassie stopped outside of a chipper. "I could die for a burger right now," she looked to the other two, "want anything?" The two shook their heads. "Alright, I'll just be a few minutes."

"Alright, we'll wait here." Ash said. When she turned around, Siobhan had wandered up the street. She ran after her. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just window shopping, we're only up the street," the two stopped outside of clothes shop, "I still can't believe you of all people got a girlfriend."

"Did you really think I would be alone forever?"

"I was starting to, I mean you could barely talk to a person you didn't like, never mind someone you really liked."

"Fair point, but Cassie's different, she's one of my best friend's, and takking to her is easy."

"I'm happy for you. I really am."

Before Ash could respond a car came to a sudden halt beside them. They barely had time to shout as three people jumped out. One swung a bat at Ash, she blocked the first swing, then struck the attacker, knocking them back, but a second bat struck her from behind, knocking her to the ground.

She looked up to see one of the attackers toss Siobhan into the back of the car. Another reached for Ash but was sent flying through the air.

Cassie took a defensive stance over her. "Get the hell away from her!"

The two remaining attackers pulled out a pair of pistols, Cassie dodged the shots with little effort, and slammed into one, sending them through a nearby store window. As she charged at the other, the driver of the car sped off.

After Cassie took down the last attacker, she rushed to Ash's side. "Are you okay?"

"The car! Get the car!"

Cassie quickly took to the sky as Ash fished out her phone, and quickly rang Babs.

So this idea has been in the works for quite a while, and surprisingly hasn't change as much as I would have expected from the original idea.

For once, I actually have the second half already finished, so that'll be posted tommorow about 7-ish GMT if your interested in it, and as always, I hope ye enjoyed - TBN :) 💙💜💙

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renaroo · 4 years

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Super Brothers (3/12)

Disclaimer: Superman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Child Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, PTSD and Anxiety, Character Death Rating: T Synopsis: Jon Kent knew he pretty much had the perfect family life, but something still felt wrong with himself. At the height of feeling like an alien in his own skin, however, his world got turned upside down when his parents took in a troubled child who embodied everything he felt he lacked. However, becoming a brother ended up being the smallest of the trials brought by adopting Christopher Kent. And being best friends with Damian Wayne has not exactly helped keep a neutral perspective on the matter.

A/N: Apologies for taking a bit longer to update this one, I had some extra work to get done in the last week and that cut into my writing time rather than my Animal Crossing time (who could have seen that coming?) and all my fics got a slight push, though I tried to get back on track by this one’s update. Ah, partial points for effort I suppose!

As always, I need to thank everyone. for the wonderful support that this story is receiving. It means so very much to me and I wouldn’t have the motivation to keep working and improving if it weren’t for those of you who promoted and commented on it! Shout outs to @mirrorfalls, @secretlystephaniebrown, @thistleknight, and @karagordon.

Chapter Three: The Runaway

Lor is in immeasurable pain.

He can feel his skin taut and broken across his back, too painful to lay on overnight. He can feel his cheek inflamed and pressing up against his eyelid. He can feel his ribs sensitive and cracked, aching against his every breath.

And the worst of it all is the way the rage against him has still not diminished.

In the past, Lor has been disciplined. It is not an unfamiliar sensation. But his parents finished with the consensus that a lesson of some sort has been learned. Lor even finds himself in agreement with them.

Not this time. Not today. He is hurt and they finished the discipline without any commentary or any softness to their expressions.

No, though, that is still not the worst. Not as Lor lays on his bed in hysteric contemplation alone in the dark.

The worst thing of all is that he cannot shut his eyes, cannot sleep, without the hideous cracking of Ti’ahl’s arm sounding off between his ears. The echos of her cries and the horror of the crowds reverberate throughout Lor’s body and send cold shivers through him.

His family is not loved when the masses of Jakuul bow. And Lor’s entire universe is turned upside down knowing this.

Before this terror in his life, Lor still did not have a full understanding of his world or his life. He is, after all, a child. But he thought he understood what he was to his father and mother.

He is the Last Son of Krypton. He is the future of the House of Zod.

But he also knows that not living up to such things means that his parents’ approval is gone. And if it is gone, bad things will happen.

Now, as he understands with the display involving Ti’ahl, those consequences are far greater than anything he could have imagined beforehand.

Suddenly, horrifically, Lor understands that his life is not the most valuable part of him.

And he is scared.

In the middle of the night, alone in his room, Lor feels the strongest impulse he has ever had in his short life.

Lor-Zod knows, without a doubt, that he needs to leave.

The instinct comes from deep within him — thoughts of the Phantom Zone and its endless prison, how escaping it meant never staying somewhere he didn’t want to again. He can see it, his old dreams of leaving for different worlds the moment he was scared or unsafe.

The only home he had ever known had been the promise of leaving the places that were wrong and painful.

And, now, Lor needs to go. He’s scared. It isn’t safe.

Thinking of his lessons on the sunstones, Lor moves, sluggishly and painfully through the palace toward the transportation lab. What little Kryptonian equipment and weapons they have managed to gather and to create — or have the Jakuul create — rests in there, including the Phantom Zone pod.

The spiral pod is bronze in color with no seeable thrusters, only a thin screen that allows its occupant to see outside the pod. It does not steer, does not operate as a ship in any way, but as a bullet to be fired in a singular direction. Once someone is inside of it, outside of a Phantom Zone Projector, nothing will be able to tear the pod off its course. It will phase through matter, it will burst through time and space. And whoever is within it will sleep until they are released, heal until they are done.

And that is all Lor needs. Peaceful, forceful sleep without interruption. He needs comfort and rest, to heal up his ribs and his back and his eyes so that when he is done, he can return to being what his mother and father need him to be.

So that he is not treated and left in pain that someone like Ti’ahl experiences.

He can’t imagine there’s something better, something in between.

Lor loads his burdens onto the pod and begins setting his coordinates. He has not lived out of the Phantom Zone long and can only think of a few places he can go.

One is Krypton, his home he never knew and is no longer there.

One is Earth, his father’s enemy, and his only other point of contact.

If he can make it to Earth and back, perhaps Lor can make it through anything else. Including his parents’ anger.

At least, that is his sincere hope.

Just like that, Lor leaves his family’s palace.

***

Father doesn’t look surprised by Damian’s intrusion on his meeting with Cassandra. He barely acknowledges that it means Damian is missing school and instead asks him if there is anything Damian would like for him to know.

Within Damian’s heart, he feels the judgment, knows the look of his father searching him for something Damian isn’t giving. It’s frustrating. It’s painful. And it’s a look he’s never seen given to Cassandra.

Damian has nothing to say except for what he feels is obvious.

“I am better than any of you see in me,” he informs his father haughtily.

His father gives him a sigh and waves him off, dismissive and annoyed. Like swatting at a fly.

“We’ll talk about it later, Damian,” Bruce Wayne says in a voice that is distinctly lacking Batman in it. It’s weary and light. Others in the family call it the Brucie Wayne voice, but for Damian, it’s something far worse.

It’s basically baby talk toward him.

Cassandra doesn’t get that treatment either.

“I doubt it,” Damian glowers, crossing his arms.

When Damian looks back up toward his father, he is met by sharp blue eyes piercing his own gaze. That is more like Batman. It sends a shiver down Damian’s spine.

Much better than baby talk, that is for certain.

“I have something important I need to discuss with Cassandra,” his father reminds him darkly. “Give us some privacy.” He gives a purposeful pause before continuing, “Please.”

For a few long moments, Damian stands cross-armed beside Cassandra, facing his father’s large executive desk. The entire suite is large and deceptively slick and modern. Devices and trick switches are hidden behind the ostentatious decor and smatterings of family photographs framed and preserved seemingly forever. Newspapers are mounted with new stories of interest over the decades.

Everything is large, squared, and imposing.

Just like their father.

When it reaches the point that Damian feels as though the silence is threatening to eat them all whole, he finally relents and turns around. It takes him nearly double the strides it would require his father to make to exit the room, just as it would take him twice the height to meet the same reach his father does.

Logically, Damian knows that the unspoken part of his father’s request for privacy was for Damian to continue from his way out of the room down to the street level where Pennyworth and the car would be waiting. Then Damian could receive a whole other lecture on manners and family and general behaving that he has received over a dozen times before.

He’s tired of it before he’s even done processing the thought of it.

Making an executive decision of his own, Damian does not leave for Alfred and the car but instead takes a hard left at the elevator shaft. Having memorized the blueprints — the actual blueprints — for Wayne Tower, Damian knows that in the blindspot of the stairwell security camera is an always taped off custodial closet. In that custodial closet is a secretive shaft that will lower into the bowels of the Tower itself.

Once a part of the robust subway tunnel system beneath the streets of Gotham, the old junction now serves as the open space for research and development of their nightly activities. At least, one of the spaces for R&D at least.

It is also the one place where Damian can open up the Oracle Network safely in Wayne Towers and check in on others without causing too much of a fuss.

Anyone who notices will assume it is Batman and everyone leaves Batman alone to his devices for the most part.

Stepping up to the large silver monitor screen, Damian watches as everything in the room begins to activate — light by light, display by display. It is a very sleek and intimidating presence.

His father is good at maintaining certain aesthetic sensibilities, Damian will give him that, at least.

Looking around, Damian sees the computer chair, built for the size and magnitude of Batman, and immediately jumps into it. His body impressively slumps into the cushions, leaving him staring straight ahead in annoyance.

Recovering from the momentary sag of his body, Damian scoots the chair up, hands gripped to the armrests so tightly his knuckles whiten. Then he leans forward to the keyboard and begins typing.

Using spy satellites is an unfortunate habit that Damian has picked up from his father, but he assures himself it is for good reason.

There is still something so wrong and disconcerting about the way that Jon reacted to Professor Pyg.

Few things dig themselves into Damian’s guts and leave him unsettled. His friend being hurt somehow by the madman was one of them. Whether it was Damian’s sense of guilt or genuine fear for Jon, Damian is still working out.

Either way, he wants to hone in on Metropolis and see how his friend is doing for himself.

It isn’t a difficult maneuver. There is already a preset coordinate to the exact location Damian needs.

Damian expects no less from his father, after all, there are a myriad of reasons to keep watch on the family and wellbeing of the most trusted and power being in the world, if not the universe.

He watches with vague interest as two figures — Superman and Superboy — approach the balcony of the Metropolis apartment in question. One has a suitcase, the other a backpack beneath his cape. Then, in a dash of color, they are both gone long before a less accurate or powerful satellite or camera would be able to capture them.

At least, Damian would hope so.

Leaning his head forward, chin sharply balanced on his palm, Damian tries to think of the expression on Jon’s face. It’s hard to tell, even with Wayne Tech advances, the nuances of someone’s face at that distance. The pixelation hides the crevices and intensity.

But Jon seemed to be smiling. Which is, really, all Damian wants to make sure of.

At the end of the day, Damian does not have many friends. The ones he does have are important to him.

And he’s still not sure that allowing himself to be in the equation frees his friends to have good things happen to them.

The thoughts are still heavy on his mind when the monitor and all of the Oracle Network change in an instant.

A red flash comes across the screen with a blare of a signal. Then again and again. It continues.

Damian jerks into sitting upright again. His shoulders drop as he looks around wide-eyed toward the different monitor screens.

Something is happening in Metropolis.

Reaching for the keyboard, Damian zooms out from the tiny apartment and widens his view to the city. Even above the city, there does not seem to be anything he can see at a distance. But, as he begins to wonder if he should switch to news coverage, Damian sees that the sky is the source of the danger alert.

Heading directly for Metropolis is a fireball the size of a car.

Before he even thinks about contacting his father or anyone else, Damian is leaping for the closest plane his father has been working on.

He knows he might not get there before the crash, but Damian is definitely going to be there to help his friend with the aftermath.

***

Jon still feels off-balance in the air. His leg wobbles a lot, the plank-like rigidness he needs to maintain for a smooth flight can still tire him. He’s working on it.

And it always feels easier in the morning with his dad.

When his pa smiles down at Jon, he feels like no matter how weird his thoughts for the morning, the whole world is going to be okay. That Jon is going to be okay. Because how can the world be anything less than perfect when Superman himself smiles like he means it at you.

Holding onto the straps of his backpack, Jon readies to part from his dad and head down to the Siegel and Shuster Middle back gym entrance, but his ears begin thumping.

Just like when he listened for his mother’s heartbeat earlier, Jon can feel every noise, every vibration of all of Metropolis at once. His jaw tightens and he tries to push the noises out. The screech and scream and bark and cry and pop all at once, but he knows that there is something still off about them. There’s something different from normal if he can hone in and direct himself to it.

He halts in the air, raising his hands up to his ears and begins mashing the heels of his palms into the ear canals. It does nothing to help him out, but he tries it anyway.

“Ow! What is that scratchy noise?” Jon can’t help but whine.

Ordinarily, Pa’s soothing voice would put him at ease, explain everything away. But it’s different this time.

Instead, Jon glances over his shoulder and sees his father also stopped in the air. Superman stares, wide-eyed and slack-jawed for a long moment before tensing up.

“Stay here, son,” Clark orders before disappearing in a dazzling whirl of red, blue, and yellow.

The whiplash of it all nearly makes Jon go crosseyed. He regains his position in the air, hovering with far less security than his pa manages to. Then he looks around in concern.

With a simple scan of the surroundings, Jon can see what got his father’s attention and it nearly makes him gasp.

Falling from the sky, seemingly from nowhere and at ludicrous speeds, is a flaming ball of metal aimed right for the city.

“Where did that come from!?” Jon asks clouds around him.

As to be expected, he doesn’t get an answer. But Jon does know what he needs to do next, even without an omniscient reply to his questions.

At full speeds, Jon pushes himself forward, his fists held out in front of him as he aims for the exact place in the sky where his father is lining up with the mystery object.

Even at his highest speeds, Jon is too slow to get there when his father first makes contact with the object and begins flying back, resisting with all his might despite the hurdling force. He is engulfed in the flames, slowing, but still heading for the skyline of Metropolis.

There needs to be more force on Pa’s side and Jon intends to provide it.

He swoops down between the city buildings and positions himself just like he saw his father do before him. He holds his arms out wide and holds out his hands to catch.

It feels like only a blink before his hands are filled with his dad’s cape, and Jon is suddenly falling back through the skies as well.

“Jon!” Superman chokes out between gritted teeth, straining with all his power.

“Pa!” Jon manages to get out alongside him

The particulars of their conversation are forced to wait as they buckle underneath the heavy metal and flames. Jon pushes into his father’s back, his father pushes into the machine, and they progressively slow as they drop through the sky.

“Feet! Flatten your feet!” Pa orders before showing Jon with his own.

Jon obeys, the soles of his tennis shoes directed toward the ground. It still shocks him when his feet hit and the air nearly leaves his lungs, or when he skids backward with the asphalt crackling beneath them. They keep moving, backward, with the space between them getting tighter and tighter as the broken roads rise up and push Jon into his father’s back.

When they stop at long last, Jon full bodily collapses against his dad and breathes a sigh of relief.

People are already on the streets, looking on in awe, which limits the conversations they can have out loud. That doesn’t keep Jon’s pa from turning on his heels, hands on his hips, and looking at Jon very seriously.

“Son,” he says sternly. “Go to school.”

“What, no way, you’re not going to let me even look in it?” Jon asks, circling around his father as widely as possible to get to the hull of the copper-colored machine. “It’s so weird and looks like a snail shell, I bet it’s an alien!”

His father is about to continue with words of wisdom or some all-important notes on responsibility, but Jon cannot hear them. He looks instead at the strange screen on the machine they stopped together and tilts his head. It’s fogged up, like the mirror after he uses the shower, and he can’t see in it. But he can see a strange, blue glow from within.

Squinting, Jon taps on the glass-like structure only to jolt as the metallic shell opens up.

A thick fog hisses out of the opening and forces Jon to wave it away from his face.

And when it’s gone, Jon looks into the face of another boy, no older than him, with strangely cut brown hair and a swollen eye and lip.

“Whoa!” Jon exclaims.

Then he is punched in the face with more force than he has ever felt in his life.

It hits so fast, so hard, Jon is sent soaring through the air backward, headlong into his father’s chest as the larger than life superhero moves in to catch him.

“Superboy!” Pa yells out in code that still can’t hide his horror or anger.

“Ow,” is all Jon can manage to get out, feeling like stars are still busting behind his eyelids.

By the time he’s set back on his feet, Jon can see that the boy from the pod is floating above it, eyes wide and confused. He turns to run.

Suddenly, Pa isn’t behind Jon holding him up anymore.

Jon realizes his dad is in front of him now, next to the boy, stretched out so his large, kind hand is wrapped almost gently around the boy’s wrist. It keeps the boy back, but he isn’t fighting, isn’t resisting. He’s looking at Superman with terror, tears in his eyes.

But Jon can feel his entire face swelling, he grabs at it and looks frantically to his dad. “Dad! He punched me!”

“Hold on, son,” Superman says without looking Jon’s way. He lowers his arm, the boy slowly dropping with it, head bowing and shoulders jerking uncomfortably. Then, Superman pulls the mystery boy to his chest and holds him. “Hold on.”

Confused and more than a little betrayed, Jon shakes his head at the nonsense and rubs at his aching face.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, he can’t even contemplate it. But he’s hurt and he has a bad feeling it’s going to get worse.

#Chris Kent #Damian Wayne #Jon Kent #Clark Kent #writing #super fic #Super: Super Brothers

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 7 years

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Lazy Afternoon - werewolf!jason au

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Titus & Alfred, bit of Tim Summary: You don’t give a wolf dog treats, Damian. Okay? A/N: This is plotless dialogue garbage but I miss this au and want to get back into it. They go on patrol with Tim, his butt isn’t too bony - but he is the butt of ALL JOKES of the night - and they turn it into tag when Nightwing and Batman try to get too close. Damian doesn’t say anything to Jason but he gets real emotionally stuck on being called a ‘good kid’ for like. Weeks. It’s so foreign to him. Sorry this sucks. Maybe I’ll update in less than a year this time and it’ll be better than this.

Other Werewolf!Jason things

It was a nice day. The colorful leaves wafting in the wind made a nice sound. The sun was shining. There were no scents, but still, even the air smelled nice. It didn’t make sense, but hey – he had the power to turn into a goddamn wolf, so nothing really had to.

He was sitting with Damian under a tree, in said wolf form. He was curled up on one side, head under Damian’s elbow, while the cat Alfred and dog Titus sat on the other. Damian was in the middle, sketching away in his notebook, the only real noises being the scratches of pencils, or the plop and rummaging of when he dropped a pencil bag into the bag by his knee and looked for a new one.

Oh and also – humming. The kid was totally humming. Nothing Jason knew, but it sounded nice all the same. Nice and relaxed.

And what a thing – to see Damian relaxed. While Jason still didn’t know everything about the kid, he knew enough to know that Damian only relaxed when he felt safe, or loved. Otherwise he was a little ball of pent up nerves and tension.

But he was relaxed, here, with Jason. He felt safe, here, with Jason.

(He might even feel loved, here, with Jason.)

And the weight of that was not lost on the wayward older brother.

He huffed, and without realizing it, snuggled deeper into Damian’s side.

Damian didn’t stop humming. Didn’t stop drawing. Just reached out his free hand and gently scratched at Jason’s ear.

(Hesperus began wagging their tail at this. Not that Jason tried to stop him too much.)

A few minutes later, there was the sound of the back door sliding open.

“Um…” Damian glanced up, and Jason merely opened his eyes lazily, ignoring Hesperus’ immediate tension. Tim stood there, a mixture of nervousness and annoyance. “Bruce wants to know if you’re going on patrol tonight?”

“Whom?” Damian responded.

“Both of you. Either of you. I don’t know.” Tim sighed. “Just…are you?”

Damian hummed again, thoughtfully this time. Jason felt him look down at him.

“…Yeah, I suppose.”

“Great.” Tim drawled. “Got anything I need to tell Bruce or Dick? Since apparently I get to play messenger between you two and those two.”

“Consider it an honor, Timbo.” Jason whined. “Means you’re held in higher regard than them. Unless you want to be shunned…?”

“Don’t start.” Tim snapped. “I’m aware of my weird limbo status, Jason, thanks.”

“Good.” Jason closed his eyes again. Hesperus relaxed. “Then go away.”

Damian snorted, and the noise sounded like laughter.

Tim sighed, but did as he was told, turning back into the house, no doubt returning to Bruce and Dick to inform them that, no, there is actually nothing to report. It’ll probably make them grumpy and stressed, and more bitter and emotionally constipated than they were normally.

Good.

He was caught in his reverie, enjoying the imagined angst of his brother and father, when suddenly, there was something being held in front of his nose. Meat of some sort. Not much, but…

He sniffed at it, and could feel Hesperus perking as he opened his eyes to stare at it. It was a little brown ball. “What the hell is this?”

“A treat.” Damian hummed. Paused, then revised his response. “A dog treat. You’re a dog.”

“I’m a wolf, thank you very much. And yes, there is a difference.”

“It’s just meat. Nothing processed. I called it a dog treat, but it’s not really. Alfred eats them too.” A pause, and Jason watched as Damian split the snack and offered the pieces to the other two. Titus chomped away happily. Alfred did as well, though much more quietly. “…Pennyworth helped me make them.”

Jason glanced up. “You made them?”

“Yesterday.”

“…Why?” Jason asked curiously. Watched as Alfred finished his snack and thanked his boy by leaning up to his face, giving him a quick lick with that rough tongue and rubbing his cheek against his chin. As Titus slapped his hand over Damian’s knee in equal gratitude.

“Because Grayson once told me when you love someone, you should do nice things for them. And because I felt like it.” Damian offered simply. “Besides, they deserve something nice, don’t you think? They put up with me after all.”

Jason blinked, and replayed the words.

Because he loved them. Because he loved them he made them something special.

And here he was, offering that something special to him.

…Does that mean Damian loves him too?

(And does Damian really think of himself so poorly that he believes he’s a burden even to his pets? Despite the fact that it couldn’t have been farther from the truth?)

If it was a slipup on Damian’s part, he didn’t seem to notice. Or at least realize. But still, it made Jason’s heart swell and beat faster. There was no odder feeling than being told you were loved or cared about, inadvertently or otherwise. By someone you expected to say it or not.

Without another word, Damian held out another treat to Jason, and this time Jason took it. Slobbered a little bit on Damian’s hand on purpose.

And he had to admit…it was kind of delicious. Sweet, seasoned meat cooked perfectly. He could taste Alfred’s touch to the recipe, and even Damian’s kitchen inexperience, but eagerness to please, all the same.

Hesperus didn’t give a shit about any of that though. He downright loved it, and was already whining for Jason to get more.

(No wonder Damian still called him a dog. Hesperus, you’re embarrassing yourself!)

As he chomped away, he felt Damian’s hand go back to his ear, and restart stroking his head gently. He silently leaned into the touch, giving as much as a silent thank you as he could, just like Titus and Alfred had.

“Did you like it?” Damian asked after a moment. Jason nodded as best he could. “Pennyworth says we should try different styles. You may have to be a taste tester.”

“I can do that. I’ll taste them as a human and a wolf, to make sure it’s really good.” Jason decided. “…Thanks, though.”

“You’re welcome.” Damian replied, and he almost sounded relieved.

Jason hesitated, debating. But he decided – fuck it. He’d promised he was in it for this kid. And if he didn’t go all the way, that didn’t make him any better than Bruce and Dick, did it?

“…And I love you too.”

Damian’s hand on his ear hesitated. Jason could practically hear Damian’s heart speed up. Alfred meowed in laughter.

“…I didn’t say that, Todd.” Damian scolded.

“You didn’t have to.” Jason countered gently. Hesperus whined again. “Now give me another meatball.”

He heard Damian scoff in a pout, but did as he was told, and held out another treat. He hummed in enjoyment, and flopped onto his side, pressing tighter against Damian’s leg. Huffed a big sigh as he closed his eyes again, and secretly relished in the scratches Damian was giving to his flank.

“…What’re you drawing?” He asked after a moment.

“Various things.” Damian responded. “Profile studies of Grayson, Cassandra and Mother. Drake prior to and after coffee. You ripping the Joker’s throat out with your fangs, while a baby sleeps peacefully on your back, between your shoulder blades.”

“Are you the baby?”

“Absolutely not.” Damian almost sounded insulted. “The baby is a metaphor for the innocence you try to protect via violence.”

“Deep.” Jason grunted, listening as a window was opened somewhere in the house. He heard Dick’s quiet, grumpy voice coming from it. Hesperus growled quietly in return.

“Are you thinking about anything?” Damian inquired, sounding like one of those four-year-olds who ask ‘why’ four hundred times a day.

“Mhm.”

“What?”

“Meatballs.” Jason grinned. Damian frowned, and pulled his hand away. Jason rolled over further, so his legs were practically sticking up in the air. “Nah, I’m thinking about you.”

Damian paused, and looked down at him, embarrassment already heating up his cheeks. “What?”

“I’m thinking about how you’re a damn good kid, and am wondering why it took me getting temporarily turned into a werewolf to see it.” Jason admitted. Damian looked away instantly. Towards his pets. “So…sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You’re not even right. But…you confronted Grayson and Father, that’s…amends enough for me.” Damian mumbled. Jason smiled again, felt Hesperus bark in amusement too as he tried to lean closer into his cub’s side, but didn’t push it. He and Damian were too much alike that way. Don’t push the emotional stuff they don’t want to talk about, at least not too much. Wait until they’re ready. “…You really think the wolf thing is temporary?”

“That’s what all the League magicians say.” Jason sighed. “Honestly, though I wouldn’t be adverse to being this way forever. Not to bad of a life, if I’m honest.”

“Only because you think you can piss anywhere you want and get away with it.” Damian smirked. Even Alfred seemed to laugh again, in his catty way.

“Hey, I haven’t shit in your room yet so I don’t see why you’d have a problem with it.” Jason joked back. Damian smiled and rolled his eyes. “And don’t worry, I promise I won’t shit in Tim’s room, or the girls’, unless they deserve it. I also promise I’ll make Dickie and Bruce be the ones to clean it up, not Alfie.”

“You’d have to go back to being a human once in a while to make Grayson or Father do anything, but you’d better stick to those promises, or else.” Damian scolded. “…What time did you want to go on patrol?”

“Dusk is good.” Jason countered. “You stealing a car or want to hitch a ride?”

“If you’re willing, I’ll accept a ride.” Jason heard the scratching of Damian’s pencil suddenly pick back up. “You’re faster than Father’s cars. And it’s less of a carbon footprint.”

“Yeah, okay Princess Mononoke.” Jason scoffed. Damian didn’t react.

“And…we should probably invite Drake to accompany us.” Damian admitted. “As you said yourself, he is not shunned yet. And I can tell he is doing what he can to stay neutral.”

“Neutral isn’t a good choice either, but I’m not about to get into a discussions of ethics versus oppressors with a ten-year-old, so. Fine. He can come with, but you have to ask him.” Jason agreed. “And I swear if his butt’s too bony, he’s gotta get his own ride.”

Damian just grinned, and continued drawing. Jason watched him for a moment, before rolling back onto his side, staring across the yard, and the colorful trees.

“…Thanks again for the snack. It really was good.” Jason mumbled. “…And you really are a good kid, Damian. Really.”

He didn’t sense a reaction, and Damian’s pencil never stopped. But suddenly his tiny hand was back on Jason’s flank, petting gently. Hesperus calmed under the attention, and in turn, Jason did too.

And he was almost asleep again, when he heard his charge whisper: “So are you, Todd. And you always have been.”

#Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #werewolf!jason au

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vampykitty-kun · 7 years

Text

Bloodlust - Ch 4

Previous Chapters: - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Rating: M

Characters/Pairing: Jason/Tim. Vicki Vale, Tam Fox, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Damian Wayne.

Notes: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pre-reboot canon compliant, Vampires, Mildly Dubious Consent, Blood and Injury, Blood Drinking, Stalking, References to Illness, Fear of Discovery. Original prompt requested by ss-penguin in Ch 1.

Word Count: 1511

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The so called fits of pit rage? A theory. One Bruce had been so very, very wrong about… the man hadn’t even been close.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Things did not blow over- not that Tim had expected them to. After the first twelve hours of phone calls and text messages, and fighting the urge to smash the phone to pieces, he simply turned it off and threw it in the drawer beside the bed.

Sure enough Wayne Enterprises was flustered, the secretaries running around like headless chickens, and as he had expected no one seemed to want to just let things go and blow over. No, of course not. They preferred to lecture him. To try and assign him a guard. To try and persuade him to see a therapist- as though he could actually tell the truth about anything that had occurred over the last several years. They would give him the next available padded cell at Arkham if he tried, doctor-patient confidentially his ass... Of course too many of the employees had noticed how worn down he had looked the past several months. How he spaced out during meeting and phone calls. Him secluding himself away from almost anyone at work that didn't have the last name 'Fox', and how even then Tam avoided him when possible.

And of course he couldn't just deny having a stalker- no, because Vale had publicly used it as his excuse for the assault.

Dick had clearly filled Bruce in on things as well, as he never once heard from the man.

Continued radio silence it was then...

Not that he should really be surprised.

How many times in the past had Bruce cut people out of his life? Plenty. Perhaps it hurt more knowing how close they had been compared to those other people.

He ate a half-assed dinner in silence.

He could barely taste it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He hid inside for the next two days. He was far from being in the mood to deal with people. He perhaps should have been worried about so many days of patrol missed, but with two Batmen, a Robin, a Batgirl, and a Catwoman running around he was sure that he wasn't actually needed. After all, Red Robin had done his job. Bruce was back.

Unless something truly out of the ordinary popped up he highly doubted that anyone would be requesting his assistance.

But it really went to show just how spaced out he was, because while he felt no shame for abandoning his post to others of the Bat-clan, he hadn't for a moment stopped to think of how Jason would take things, and really that should have been a priority.

Staying home in bed solved zero problems.

It in fact had the potential to create them.

Something he only realized when he woke with a start to find one Red Hood looming over his bed with a glock pointed at his face.

The world would have to forgive him for the high pitched squeak that left his lips, but he was sure it was judging him for falling backwards off the bed, nearly braining himself on the nightstand.

To prove his point even Jason let out a snort of disbelief.

Tim could only look up at him gaping, rubbing the shoulder he had slammed into the edge of the table, waiting for something to give. He flinched when Jason took a step forward, and again he found himself really cursing that damn helmet because everything was made all the worse by being unable to see the man's face. Jason cocked his head and stepped forward- faster than he could register.

Much to Tim's horror he found his chin being tilted upward by the head of the pistol. His throat worked anxiously, as if swallowing down his nerves and fear, hands splayed across the carpet frozen. He stared up at the reflected eyes of the helm and felt a burning flash of shame at how utterly done he looked. It was one thing to go out into public slathered in makeup to cover up how pale he was, the dark rings under his eyes that stuck around even after far too much sleep to compensate, with enough caffeine buzzing through his system to mask his bone deep exhaustion, and an entirely different situation all together to see him in the privacy of his own home after days of seclusion. Now he was bare- and he looked like shit. That helmet only continued to mock him.

“If you're here to knock me unconscious again I should probably let you know that I've already spent the past three days in bed, so really, I've spent more time out of it than reasonable already...” He muttered.

“Clearly. You look half dead.” The man huffed. “I would know.”

Tim sighed.

“Lovely.”

Despite the banter there was no letting his guard down. The gun was still pointed at him, he was at a severe disadvantage, and Jason was being cryptically silent.

Not a good sign.

Jason enjoyed being chatty.

The staring match seemed to go on forever.

“You really didn't tell.” The Hood broke the silence without warning, and despite himself Tim jumped a little.

“I already told you that!” He snipped, and in the moment he could care less how pissy his face looked. “It wasn't in anyone's best interest.”

“Because you have oh so many reasons to tell me the truth, right?”

Tim could practically hear the eye-roll.

“You certainly haven't given me any, that's for sure. It's not as though I even have much to tell. I have no idea what's going on, just theories, and no facts.” He sighed, wondering if it would be wise to chance pulling himself back up on the bed, or if it would be that break in focus to get him lunged at. “I guess the number one question at the moment though is, why do you believe me now?”

Jason huffed, and to Tim's surprise he reached up with his free hand, and began pulling the gleaming red helm off. He found some comfort in the man's eyes being their usual shade and not the dark abyss they had been the night this had all started. He was not however willing to make bets on whether the look on Jason's face meant murder or amusement however. He supposed with him it really could be both.

“I had a heart to heart with Bruce today...” He grinned, and Tim supposed Jason enjoyed the fact that someone knew- that someone was properly afraid now, because it was all teeth. “At the docks. Blew a warehouse to pieces. Really, he should thank me. I have no idea how much coke was mingled in with the pallets of sand bags, but the GCPD are either in cahoots or idiots. In all honestly probably both. Very few people worth a damn at the department and they're all Gordon's best. The rest are useless. Kept an obscene amount from hitting the streets tonight. Some casualties. Mass property damage. Judgmental bat-glares all around. But the point is, if Bruce had known he never would have acted like everything was just as fucked up as usual. He would have done everything in his power to try and bring me in. He would have monologued, suddenly convinced that everything was beyond my control, that I could suddenly be saved. But he was just his usual unbearable self.” The older man spat, curling his lip with a snarl.

Tim sucked in a deep breath ans slowly pulled himself up to perch back up on the mattress. He looked up to see Jason following him with his eyes and barely suppressed the shudder.

“Good. I told the truth. Mind leaving?” he growled, despite the potential seriousness of the the situation.

The man snorted.

Well, it had been worth a try he supposed...

“I wouldn't have come for you in a broadly lit street let alone one so crowded you know. Punching the man was a bit of a an overreaction on your part. Lucky no one's suing...” He paused, seemingly only amused by the glare on the younger man's face. “If I had wanted you dead I would have slipped in while you were sleeping. No witnesses. No collateral damage. Of course, I'd let you wake up first- pointless if you died without knowing it was me... that saved Bruce once, but that's getting off topic. If I wanted you dead there wouldn't be any stopping me. So don't give me a reason. You're of more use to me alive than you are six feet under...”

“And that's supposed to reassure me?”

“Just telling you how it is, Tim.” He smirked, and suddenly a clawed finger was under his chin forcing him to meet the man's eyes. “This could be just what we needed...”

And with the Jason was snapping the helmet back over his head, and before Tim could react- not that he would have prolonged his visit any further regardless, Jason had vanished out a previously closed window.

“...we?”

One thing was for sure...

He was going to electrify his entryways.

#Jaytim #vampire!Jason #vampire au #canon compliant #Vampy's Fics #Earth V13

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audreycritter · 7 years

Text

Sleepwalker

Rating: T Gen Characters: Tim Drake Angst

AO3 Link

Sleepwalker

There is cold, wet gravel under Tim Drake’s cheek when he hits the ground and the armor that protects his ribs from the blow reminds him that he is not Tim Drake with a broken gas mask, he is Red Robin.

But the mask is broken and the tendrils of fear toxin curling around his face remind of a time when he was Robin. A time when Scarecrow wasn't climbing inside his brain, but when he donned a mask and saved the Bat from a similar fate.

That was when he stopped being just Tim Drake.

But he's not Robin now either.

And Red Robin is about fifteen seconds away from being nothing more than a shrieking sack of bones and guts, based on the level of toxicity he'd measured before his gas mask broke.

So really?

He doesn't know who the hell he is.

He's not sure it even matters.

I am a ghost.

That is what I tell myself.

I used to be a boy but now I am a ghost and I walk the tombstones of a field of graves. They all have names and they are not my name but they are names that are part of me.

I am a son, a brother, a friend.

I was, before I was a ghost.

I trail my fingers along the granite and along the engraved letters so sharp they cut my fingers, that would bleed if they could, but they don't.

Jason Todd, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Stephanie Brown, Conner Kent, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Richard Grayson.

And more beyond them.

The grass, chilled and dry, rustles in the bitter wind that blows across the field. The field goes on forever in every direction, and maybe somewhere out there beyond the horizon there are blue skies and green prairies, but here it is clouded and pale.

Here, it is death.

I find him at the end of the row of tombs, perched on a grave with my own name on it.

I didn't even know I was wearing a wool peacoat until I shove my hands in my pockets while facing him.

“Mors vincit omnia,” I say to him.

Death looks a lot like me, actually, or whoever I used to be. His hair is longer, his skin ashen, his own coat wrapped tightly around thin shoulders.

Or maybe he looks exactly like me and I don't even know how bad I look half the time.

Looked.

“Oh, I’m not Death,” he says, hopping down and mirroring my pose. “Death is real.”

There's a taste of sage on my tongue.

“Are you not real?” I ask, because this whole place feels like an in-between sort of place, a fiction compared to the things I know and remember.

“We aren't real,” he corrects, flicking my forehead.

And though it is ridiculous, my heart-- the heart that is the heart of a ghost-- skips a beat.

“What,” I say. It is not a question because I am not certain I want to ask and hear an answer.

“We’re a dream,” he says. “And this is where dreams come to die.”

“No,” I say firmly, because I have lived too much and felt pain too deeply for it to have been a dream. I have done too many things, can recall a thousand vivid details, to have dreamed it all.

The taste of sage grows stronger.

“No?” he echoes. “This isn't something you can argue. It's a fact.”

“We’re talking about my life!” I say irritably, my voice raising. I gesture to the line of tombstones behind me. “I didn't dream all this!”

“Oh,” he says, giving me a pitying look. And then his face twists into something cruel, a malicious press of his lips into a thin line.

“What?” I demand, asking now.

“Tim. Timmy. Timbo,” he says. “I didn’t say you were dreaming. I said you were a dream.”

“That’s insane,” I snap, but inside the sick lurch of realization plants doubt.

“Look,” he says, pointing.

I turn and the sage is so strong in my mouth that it burns my gums.

The tombstones are gone and there is a flat cement patio, a small white table, two painted iron chairs and a flowering plant surrounded by butterflies. In the distance there is an old building and I recognize it; it is Arkham. It is Arkham Asylum on an impossibly sunny day. I even know the plot with the cement and the flowers, except I remember it as overgrown and broken.

Here, it is not broken.

Here, there is a man with close shorn hair sitting in one of the chairs and holding a mug of tea. He is sitting complacent and docile, his eyes a blank and unfocused gaze.

It is Bruce, but Bruce in a way I have never seen him.

“That’s the real him,” the boy who is me but also not me says, nodding. If the empty Bruce hears him, he gives no indication. “He’s been that way for a long time.”

“What do you--”

“He dreams you. And the others. Not all of them, of course, there’s almost always a bit of truth in dreams. Think about it for a minute. You’re smart. Doesn’t it all seem, well, too convenient?”

I spit to clear the sage from my mouth.

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

I don’t know who I am. Am I a ghost? Is this boy who looks like me a ghost?

“Dick was real, of course. Is, sorry. So was Jason. Was, that one stays. But Tim, that man broke the year that Jason died. Alfred Pennyworth had him admitted for his own protection. They hid Batman-- it was hard at first, but the more Bruce slipped the easier it was to just chalk it up to his own paranoia and unhinged stories. And he couldn’t cope with a world where he was responsible for Jason, so in his head, he fixed it. He started with you-- you should be flattered. You were the first distraction: you acknowledging his pain at losing Jason, your parents alive but absent so he could parent you without a legal obligation; the starting point for the others.

“You’ve really never wondered, before?” he asks. “At how neatly it fit together? That you were at the circus the same night, fascinated by both Batman and Dick Grayson before you made the connection? That you, a child, made the connection at all when intelligent adults around you couldn’t?”

“Men see what they want to see,” I say to him coldly, determined that whatever mindgame he is playing won't frighten me.

He laughs, a sharp and brittle sound.

“C’mon, Tim. You aren't stupid. Occam’s Razor. What makes more sense? That all of it really happened or that somebody made it up? Four dead Robins and none of them still dead? No. No, you were the first of a long line of trying to atone for Jason in his broken little brain.”

I scowl at the dying grass under my polished loafers and then look up across the field to the Arkham garden scene. In all the time we’ve been standing here, he hasn’t raised the mug to drink the contents, even once. A butterfly alights on the table and he doesn’t react to it. I am thinking of the time we spent training, when everything was something to notice. There were entire sessions just pushing me to make sure I didn’t miss details in my surroundings.

With a hunch of my own shoulders, I swallow to try to rid my throat of sage.

“Why?” I ask, considering. There’s no point in ruling out possibilities without honestly considering them, combing each option over for details. And now I want to know, if it’s all fiction, why so many graves? This seems to be the strongest argument against a dreamscape.

“Because he doesn’t think he has anyone. And we’re safer, easier to control and manipulate,” the ghost of me says.

“But why kill them all?” I persist, frowning at where the row of tombstones stood before vanishing.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’ve been in his head all this time. Why don’t you tell me? I think it’s because he doesn’t know how to sustain happiness. The only kinds of dreams he can keep up with are the ones that are nightmares. He’s put a little of himself in each of you, surrounded himself with a grand fantasy where none of you stay dead, except the ones that pull you away from his orbit-- your father, your friend. Those relationships are messy and take too much effort to keep track of, but he feeds on the drama within his own circle. And if he could let it go, they’d probably release him.”

My heart that is too hollow, too light, stills within me. I feel the absence of its beating but it doesn’t seem to have any other effect.

“What…” I study Bruce in the chair. He finally sips the tea and it occurs to me that I am certain it is tea and I had no way of knowing this. I clear my throat. “Is he alone? Really?”

“Alfred visits daily. Clark comes once a week. Dick and Barbara are married and stop by when they can. I think he’s noticed, finally. He’s making an effort. That’s why you’re here.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, dread settling over me like lake water, dense and frigid and airless. It wasn't true, it couldn't be true, but it sort of made sense.

“Do?” he laughed again, that sardonic icy bark of a laugh. “Nothing. His therapist told suggested trying to kill you all off, and well, you were...the first. The first fiction. You're here to be retired. But it's sort of a process, for old dreams. You have to be let go. And he's not sure he wants to, yet.”

“What will happen if he does?”

The sage was now in my mouth, my throat, my nostrils, making my eyes water. My palms were slick, I was sweating all over. I coughed.

With every second that passed, I was becoming more certain he spoke the truth. My grip on anything that could contradict him felt tenuous and desperate, a panicked internal railing against the surety of where I stood.

“You end,” he says simply, the bitter mirth gone. “Dreams are just dreams, Tim. They don't have an afterlife.”

“And if he doesn't?” I ask, clenching my teeth after to keep them from chattering.

“Business as usual,” he shrugs. “You go back. You might remember, you might not. I don't know because he's never gotten you this far before. It’ll probably be big; whenever he tries and fails to stop living in his head, the regression is always dramatic for all of you. Near death, severe injury, something of the sort. Do the others remember?”

“Who?” I ask, frowning. “What do you--”

“Well, he's never killed you off before. But the others, the ones he brought back. They've each been here, but I think that was intentional, you know. It wasn't therapy it was just plot.”

“They've never said anything,” I say faintly, my head reeling: Jason, Stephanie, Damian. They would have all…

“Then you probably won't remember either,” he says cheerfully, clapping my shoulder. “That's a bit of good news, anyway. Don't you think knowing would really mess you up?”

Across the field, there is the sharp, glittering sound of porcelain splintering into a thousand pieces. We both jerk our heads up in unison to look-- the shell of Bruce Wayne has thrown the tea mug onto the concrete and he is rocking back and forth, muttering and whimpering.

I look at the ghost of me, the ghost who isn't a ghost. He's fading and so is the landscape around us.

“Oh, I think he's changed his mind, again,” the other me says. He smiles one more time, and it is cheshire in its lingering white malice.

“Sweet dreams!” he calls, the words far away and echoing across the darkness engulfing me.

My throat is full of sage and it is swollen, stinging.

I wake in the Batcave with bruises on my arms from being restrained, while Bruce stands nearby, in the suit with his cowl pushed off his face. He notices I am awake and he looks relieved and exhausted.

“Hey, Tim,” he says wearily, “you had us worried there for a bit. We haven't had anyone react that way to fear toxin before. I'll get Alfred.”

“Bruce,” I say, wanting to ask. I want reassurance. I want someone to tell me that it's ridiculous, but it turns out it is too ridiculous even to ask, to voice, and my questions die on my tongue with the taste of sage.

“Hm?” he says, absently patting my shoulder as he pushes the intercom that is link to the manor. “Alfred, Tim’s awake.”

“I will be right down, sir,” comes the prompt reply.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks, sitting in a chair next to the bed.

I swallow.

“Okay,” I lie.

I'm crazy. It was just fear toxin. I know this.

But it's so dramatic, it's so neatly arranged, it's so formulaic. Alfred will come downstairs, he will offer tea and chicken soup. Dick will call. I will sit up and some people I love will stay dead and others I love will never die.

“Tea and soup, Master Timothy,” Alfred says, stepping off the elevator with a silver tray.

And though the fear toxin is, or should be, out of my system, my heart begins to pound and I am drenched in sweat in an instant and the edges of my vision darken.

“Tim?” I hear Bruce say, slightly alarmed.

I begin to cry and I don't care.

I am not a ghost.

I am a dream.

#batman #batfam #tim drake #ficblogging #ao3 link #red robin #angst

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thebluenebula · 3 years

Text

Ashleigh Wayne AU Masterlist

Kidnapped (Part 2/2)

~2200 words

Siobhan's First Visit (Part 1/2)

Major Characters: Ashleigh Wayne (OC), Siobhan (OC), Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Joker

Minor Characters: Alfred Pennyworth, Cassie Sandsmark

Alot. Siobhan has been kidnapped, and Ashleigh blames herself. When Bruce finds her Ash knows she has to help rescue her.

Ash, and the others spent hours being questioned by the police, question, after question, after question, if it wasn't for Gordon she was sure they would've been there all day.

Alfred, and Dick picked them up, Bruce, and Babs were busy trying to find Siobhan from the cave, while the rest of the kids were scouring the city for her.

The first thing Ash did once she got home was change clothes. When she came back, she found Tim, and Cassie arguing in the main hall.

"I can help," Cassie angrily shouted at him.

"I know you can, but we've got this handled, Diana's been on Bruce's ass since he told her what happened."

"Like they could have hurt me," she scoffed.

"That doesn't stop her worrying."

"You should go, Cassie," Ash chimed in, alerting the two to her presence.

Cassie immediately wrapped her arms around Ash. "I'm so sorry, I tried to find them, but-"

"I know, I know."

"I promise, I'll help you find her.

"Go home, Cassie," she insisted, "the Bats have this covered. If they need the calvary, I'll make sure you're the first one called."

She thought about arguing, but stopped herself. "At least let me stay here with you."

"Any other day I would jump on that offer but not today, I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Ash, just promise you'll call when you find her."

"Promise."

Cassie kissed Ash's cheek, then left. Ash waited in the kitchen with Alfred, while Dick, and Tim went down to the cave to get Bruce. Alfred kept his arms around her until Bruce arrived.

Bruce stepped into the kitchen. "Can we have a minute, Alfred?"

"Of course, Sir."

Bruce sat down beside her, and pulled her into his chest. "How are you feeling?"

She forced a small smile onto her face. "How do you think?"

"Not good, I imagine."

"That's one way to put it. Honestly, I'm pissed Bruce, and it's at all the wrong people."

"Who?"

"At whoever took her, of course, but at Cassie aswell, for not saving her."

"You know she tried."

"I know, I shouldn't be angry, but... she stopped to check on me, she let them get away."

"I would have done the same."

"I know you would have, I would have, that's why it doesn't make sense."

He stroked her hair as she sobbed in his chest. "It's my fault. If had just done what you asked, if had trained more with you, I could have-"

"None of this is your fault."

"We'll find her, won't we?"

"I promise."

Ash lay in his arms for a while. She wanted to help, but he insisted that there wasn't anything they could do but wait, so he kept her there in his arms, only letting go when the waiting was over.

Dick rushed in, a look of urgency on his face. "We found her."

Bruce was on his feet immediately. "Where?"

"Abandoned warehouse by the docks."

"Gear up, have Babs alert the rest, see if any can meet us there."

Ash grabbed his arm. "I can help."

He gently placed his hand on her cheek. "We'll bring her back, I promise."

The two left her alone. She quickly took off after them, takinh the steps to the cave three at a time, almost tripping several times. By the time she reached the cave they were already in uniform, and Babs was waiting by the computer. "I can help Bruce!"

"Stay here, you'll be safe, and I promise we'll bring her home. I've never broken promise to before, have I?"

"No."

He pulled on his cowl. "Then trust me."

"I have to help, this my fault."

Bruce thought for moment. Dick was flabbergasted. "You're not actually considering it?"

"She could help."

"She's not trained."

"Not officially," Ash agreed, "but I've been watching, and participating, I know enough."

Bruce turned to Babs. "Do you think your old suit would fit her?"

"It'd be about the right size."

"Not you too," Dick exclaimed, "we're not putting her life at risk!"

"I'm putting my life at risk, not you!" Ash shouted at him. "This isn't the time for a debate."

He let out a defeated sigh. "Fine."

"Thank you," she said as she grabbed Bab's old suit and ran off to the changing rooms.

"You and I," Dick pointed to Bruce, "are having a serious talk after this."

A few minutes later, Ash reappeared back in uniform. "Let's go."

"You need a weapon," Dick stated, offering her one of his escrima sticks.

"I was thinking something a little easier," she gestured to Jason's case.

"A Batgirl with guns," Bruce gave her a curious look, "that would be a first."

"I don't see why not," Babs said.

Ashleigh gave her a happy smile, and grabbed the guns from the case.

"If I had asked for a gun, would you have given me one?" Babs asked Bruce as he headed for the Batplane.

"Oh absolutely not."

"Favoritism," she shouted after him.

Once aboard, Bruce turned to Ash. "Codenames only till we're back in the cave."

Babs piloted the plane remotely from the cave. Ash didn't count but it didn't feel like anymore then fifteen minutes before they were hovering over the docks.

"You stay close to me or Nightwing at all times," Bruce stated.

Babs's voice was suddenly in their ears. "Spoiler, and Red Robin are nearby, and on the way to assist."

"We're not waiting, are we?" Ash asked.

Bruce shook his head. "No, we move now."

Ash could feel herself shaking, she was nervous, but now wasn't the time for nerves. She shook off the feeling and held onto Bruce as they repelled from the plane.

Once on the ground, they snuck silently through the docks until they reached the warehouse. Bruce turned to Dick, the two nodded, apparently agreeing something.

Ash went to ask for an explanation, but Bruce was already gone. Dick smirked. "You'll get used to it, just do as I do."

Despite having no idea what they were doing, Ash followed him till they stopped outside a door. Dick picked the lock, and they crept through the halls of the building.

"Two hostiles around the next corridor." Babs warned them. Ash couldn't help but think of her as second voice in her head, one that was smarter, and had a lot more sense.

Dick rushed them, knocking both unconscious before they could react. Ash took a moment to examine the goons faces, they were painted like clown.

"B, we have a problem." Dick said a over the comms.

"Joker, I know."

"You know?"

"I see him."

"He's here?"

"What about Siobhan?" Ash interupted them.

"Bound in the middle of the main storage room." Bruce replied

"B," Dick said, " I should take Batgirl out of here."

"What? No." She retaliated.

"This isn't just any kidnapping, this is the Joker."

"She's staying," Bruce stated, "our primary objective is the hostage, I'll cause a distraction, you get her out safely."

"B I don't-"

"Now, Nightwing."

Dick sighed, but did as he was ordered. From the room ahead there was a sudden eruption of gunfire. "Stay close to me, hold onto my belt if you have to, but under no circumstances do you leave my side."

Ash nodded, following him in. The two weaved through the crates. Any goon that spotted then or got too close were unconcious before they could do anything. Despite not being properly trained, Ash did well, even knocking out a couple of goons herself along the way.

Soon, the two spotted Siobhan, unconcious, and bound in the centre of the room, as Bruce said. Two goons stood by her, firing up into the rafters, presumably at him. Without thinking, Ash quickly rushed out

Nightwing made a grab for her cape, but missed. "Batgirl wait!"

She quickly shot down the two goons before cutting Siobhan's binds. A raspy laugh behind her caught her attention. She turned, spotting the Joker standing nearby, laughing. Nightwing immediately put himself between him, and her. "Batgirl, get the girl out of here."

"Leaving already," Joker complained, "but its been forever Batgirl."

"Batgirl, now!"

Ash was frozen in place by a combination of fear, and morbid curiosity.

"There's something different about you," Joker mumbled, "have you gotten taller?

He took a step towards them, and Dick immediately reacted, lunging at him, but Joker was quicker then he seemed, and easily dodged.

Ash tried to get a shot at him, but it was hard to get a clear one as him, and Dick tussled.

Joker managed to land a kick on Dick's chest, sending him stumbling back. Batman suddenly swung down from rafters, kicking Joker to the ground. "The two of you, get the girl out of here, now!"

The two threw one of Siobhan's arms over each their shoulders, and carried her out of the building.

"Oracle," Dick said, "we have the girl, bring the Batplane for exfil."

Ash grinned. "Almost there," She whispered to herself.

A gunshot rang out, Dick screamed, and fell to the ground, dragging Siobhan with him. Ash swung around, gun ready, but a second shot grazed her shoulder causing her stumble back, and fall to the ground.

As the two goons took aim again, a pair of shadows dropped from the roof, knocking them out.

"Are you alright?" Tim shouted as he, and Steph rushed to them.

Ash looked to her shoulder. "Just a graze, I think."

"My leg," Dick hissed, holding tightly to the area the bullet had hit.

"Red, get Nightwing aboard," Steph ordered, "Batgirl, get your friend, I'll cover you."

Tim quickly hoisted Dick over his shoulder. Ash went to pick up Siobhan, but her cape draped over her shoulder in front. The shot had destroyed the shoulder clip. She pulled it off, and threw it aside before grabbing Siobhan, and running for the plane.

"Spoiler we're aboard." Tim shouted as soon as Ash was on. Steph quickly ran aboard, and the plane took off.

"Shouldn't we wait for Batman?" Ash asked.

"He'll be fine," Steph insisted, "Jay, and Damien were two minutes behind us, they'll help him."

The plane dropped, Steph, and Siobhan off at the nearest hospital. Ash wanted to go with them, but Tim insisted they treat her, and Dick in the cave first.

Once at the cave, Alfred, and Tim took Dick into the medbay, while Ash waited with Babs.

Ash examined the torn shoulder of the suit, "I'm sorry, I kind of wrecked your suit a little, and lost the cape."

"As long as you're alright, it doesn't matter, plus it was nice seeing someone get use out of it after all these years, now go get out of it."

By the time Ash had changed, Alfred had finished tending to Dick, and began sticthing up her shoulder. It wasn't long before he had it done, and dusted

Ash let out a slight giggle. "That was easier then I thought."

"I am quite good at it, now how do you feel?"

"Good, my shoulder is still numb."

"It will be like that for while, but I wasn't referring to the injury."

"I'm good, she's safe, nothing else matters right now."

"It must have been an eventful day for you."

"That's one way to put it."

"Master Bruce must be so proud of you."

"Why? All I did was rush in, then I fall over."

"After being shot."

"It grazed me."

"It certainly would have put me off balance, and as for the rushing in, it's par for course."

Bruce soon got back to the cave with Jay, and Damien. Joker had escaped, but GCPD had managed to round up most of his goons.

"Are you okay? We're you seriously hurt?" Bruce asked Ash.

"I'm fine," she assured him, "Dick's the one who got really hurt."

"He'll be okay, I promise."

"And you've never broken a promise to me yet."

"I promised you we'd get her back, didn't I?"

"You did. Can we go see her now?"

"Go take a quick shower first, then we can."

While Ash ran off to shower, Bruce went to check on Dick. The injury wasn't anything new, he'd experienced similar ones before.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Dick said, "but what did Joker want with her?"

"My best guess is Ashleigh was the target. The GCPD siezed alot of Jokers assets recently, ransoming the child of a billionaire would be a quick way to make a lot of money."

"But Cassie interupted the kidnapping, and they were only able to grab Siobhan," Dick reasoned.

"That's the prevailing theory."

"And what's to stop him from trying again?"

"After tonight, I don't think we'll be seeing him again anytime soon."

Ash got back from the shower, and Bruce brought her to visit Siobhan in hospital. As she promised, Steph hadn't left her side until they arrived.

Siobhan had minor physical injuries but they kept her for a couple days just to be safe. Ash stayed most of the days, and slept over at night. Bruce paid all the bills and offered to pay for a therapist, but Siobhan claimed to remember next to nothing.

She stayed at the manor a couple more days before heading back to Ireland. Ash barely let her out of her sight. Eventually the day came for her to leave.

"I'm guessing you won't be coming back to Gotham anytime soon?" Ash joked as the two walked up to the terminal door.

"Sooner then you think," Siobhan leaned into her ear, and whispered, "capes suits you."

Ash watched, stunned, as Siobhan walked into the terminal.

I'm so happy to have finally gotten around to finishing this fic because I didn't want to post any of my Ash Batgirl based one before actually explaining how she become Batgirl so I am super excited for the ones I can post next. Hope you enjoyed this story, and hope you stick around for some more. Love you - TBN 💙💜💙

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