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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 7 months

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Part 8- Dressed in all black

“Dressed in all black I’m giving the eulogy. R.I.P. to the kid that I used to be.” -Funeral by Neoni

Masterlist Part 7

It was a truth universally acknowledged that when one was a Gotham Vigilante, one was a paranoid Gotham Vigilante.

So when one fine night the motion sensors of the Batcave rang shrilly in response to an intruder, needless to say it was well earned.

Jason, dressed in sweatpants and a tanktop, was found in the medbay by a harried Nightwing only a few minutes later. The older man was harried and worn, but still sported a bright smile on his face when he spotted his younger brother.

“Little Wing!”

The missing man was half awake and grumbling something about warmth, but allowed Dick in his gear to hug him close.

“Oh, Little Wing, where have you been?!”

Jason grumbled again, but wrapped his arms around Dick and crushed his older brother to his chest.

“Hi, Big Bird.”

Oh, if that didn’t just make Dick cry ugly tears. It had been years since a tiny adorable Jason had looked up at him, an angry Robin with too many issues, and called him that title without sending a lance through Dick’s heart.

Where had Jason gone?

(Where had Jason’s anger gone?)

Not that Dick was complaining or anything. Not at all, but good things rarely came without strings attached.

(He had long since subscribed to the belief that his family was cursed.)

The Regent and the Phantom remained out far beyond their usual patrol time.

Jazz and Danny had successfully entrusted Jason to the Bats’ care while he woke, leaving before they were spotted though having accidentally set off come sort of alarm with their clumsy movements. In their rush, Jazz had to leave using her portal which could’ve been spotted on camera, however blurry thanks to the ecto.

It was odd to be without their silent third roommate; Jazz had gotten so used to sharing her proto-core warmth with her bedmate whenever she slept, untangling her limbs whenever she woke for patrol or daily life became a refreshing constant she was going to miss, much to her embarrassment.

(Several times she caught herself plotting how to throw herself into his path, just so she could get his arms around her again.)

(She was thirsting for the first time in her life and it was for a former dead guy.)

(Figures.)

Phantom cackled eerily as he let a gang banger slip from his grasp, the mortal terrified out of his mind. The pre-dawn light mixed messily with the ecto green of Phantom’s aura, casting an otherworldly effect over his surroundings- an average mortal would not be able to stand his presence for very long, which was useful to scare off any n’do’wells from sight.

The Regent sighed, exhausted. It had been a long month, stacks of paperwork had been completed, sparing with Pandora before patrols and sorting through the files Technus had stripped from the GIW servers prior to their destruction. Whatever locations the tech ghost was able to pinpoint, he cheerfully sent to the former Team Phantom for further action.

Whatever actions they took, the reports crossed her desk afterwards. Needless to say, Jazz had no objections to hunting the hunters- not when it was for the vengeance protection of a people wronged.

“Phantom.” Regent activated her ecto-comm, an upgrade from the Fenton Phones without the horrible branding, and listened for her little brother’s comm link in response.

“Yeah, Regent?” Danny returned with a tired emphasis on the title.

That had been the vigilante mantle Jazz took up with Danny returned to the nightlife as his spooky self, the general public unsure what to make of the two new meta vigilantes with varying abilities.

Phantom had cheerfully informed some camera crew early one morning that being dead was a medical condition.

(He’s not wrong.)

They didn’t wear the bat across their chests, which made them unknown. Their abilities were varying and their motives for vigilantism in Gotham unclear which made them dangerous.

(They were dangerous.)

(Jazz was dangerous. The blood on her hands proved it well enough.)

(Phantom might be a Spirit of Protection, but that didn’t mean he backed down from a fight, much less start them.)

(He’s a King.)

(He finishes them.)

“Wrap it up, we’ve been out long enough. You’ve got school soon.”

Jazz ignored the patented younger sibling whine, before she continued in a softer tone, “You’ve been doing good, little brother, and I’m proud of you for it.”

There was silence for a while as Jazz made her way towards her favorite alleyway, where her trophy still remained to her amusement, ready to fall into bed for a few hours before she had to get Danny up for school.

(That is, if she was able to sleep without her bedmate leeching off her proto-core warmth.)

“Thanks, sis.”

“Always, little brother.”

Jazz knew she set her phone for seven am, just enough time for her to drink her dose of ecto and force feed Danny something that wasn’t just straight caffeine. It was a force of habit for it to be seven am, even though Jazz was no longer in school or had a job.

Years of experience caring for her brother made it so.

Yet, as Jazz settled down into her soft sheets and warm blankets she knew she wasn’t going to have an easy time falling asleep despite how exhausted she was from the extended patrol.

Her bed was too empty. There was no steadfast presence at her back as she slept, no fellow liminal or Once-Revenant to share her own warmth with, proto-core or not.

Despite Danny being just a room across, Jazz had never felt more alone.

Jason was having both a good morning and a terrible one.

How that was possible, he wasn’t sure, yet here he was: in his old Manor bedroom, soft sheets pleasant on his rough skin, lack of pulsing green rage in his chest, bones aching from disuse, and muscles suffering mild atrophy thanks to him being in a coma for a whole fucking month.

Lovely.

Yes, Jason was very confused (and concerned) about that last bit, to the extent he was willing to stay in the Manor for longer than a meal and to say hi to Alfie. He wasn’t sure what had happened between the last Arkham breakout and Dickwing trying to kill him again by way of an octopus hug in the Batcave.

He really only recalled the breakout alert on his phone, his chest hurting… some bits in between were fuzzy and Jason wasn’t really sure if he could truthfully say they happened.

(Like the giant furry monster poking at his chest.)

(Or the soothing warmth wrapped around him.)

(The soft lips pressed to his own.)

(The citrus burn in the back of his throat.)

He didn’t recall words, per say, only emotions.

Protect-worry-amusement.

Worry-curiosity-embarrassment.

It wasn’t weird to believe that he wanted the simplicity of just sensing what people meant, rather than trying to deduce if they were lying or not. Jason’s patience for that had grown shorter and shorter over the years.

It was weird to believe he wanted it back. He wanted that warmth back in his arms, to feel safe again, cared for… to know he had nothing to worry about while in that embrace. Someone had taken care of him while he was missing and he was going to find them… and he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to let them go.

A/N:

Poor Jazz can't catch a break with her love interests. :(

And Danny is out here just living his best Afterlife, waiting for the Bats to do something with the ghost files.

Yes, Jazz inherited the Fenton naming tendency too. Just took the title she has among the Realms and uses it as a vigilante name.

Danny is returning as Phantom, naturally.

Huh, wonder if this will have any consequences? nah.

Part 9

#dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dpxdc #jazz fenton #regent!jazz #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #here have some angst #and some more of my fan lore for this wacky world #Danny: being dead is a medical condition. :)#Jazz: He's not wrong?#Bat paranoia is a thing #Considering they really are out to get you

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de-vespertiliones · 11 months

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Hot take, but I don't think Jason is as unreasonable about his not being avenged in Lost Days/UtRH as we often think. Which: I definitely think his feelings in UtRH do come from a place of anger and hurt that isn’t very rational. That said, viewed narrowly, I think a couple moments from Jason's '80s Robin run make Jason's post-resurrection conclusions about how Bruce should have acted upon his dying make a kind of sense. (Full disclosure: I did not touch pre-Crisis content).

I know this panel from Detective Comics #570 makes the rounds fairly often:

But the context is sort of interesting: the person Bruce "lost" is Catwoman and she's very much alive. The Joker just brainwashed her back to being "bad" after she had been on the straight & narrow. (Notably, brainwashed "bad" Catwoman still balks at murder and protects Bruce's secret identity under duress, so "bad" seems pretty relative here).

So Jason's holding Bruce back from murder not because The Joker killed someone he cared about, but because Selina's returned to her old ways. This is flat-out murderous revenge and no one even died.

I think, in conversation with the below panel from Batman #425, there's something to talk about:

(For context, this is the father of the rapist who Jason may or may not have killed in Batman #424, who somehow magically intuits Jason is responsible for his son's death and is seeking his own vengeance.)

I don't think this necessarily reads as Bruce exonerating José Garzonas, but that he identifies the events of the comic as coming from "a father's righteous anger" implies that Bruce believes there is some degree of right behavior on Garzonas' part. Fathers, after all, avenge their sons.

Additionally, while I think from the perspective of the living that Tim being Robin wasn't intended as a slight against Jason (at least, outside of metatextual analysis), I think it's important to note that in terms of Jason's post-crisis origin, he's Robin to Batman long before he's anything to Bruce Wayne. Cf. Batman #409:

This is two or three days after the tires incident. Adoption is not, at any point, discussed. Jason is Robin first. (Indeed, post-Crisis we don't even see Jason finding out about Bruce being Batman).

Thus: Jason's had to hold Bruce back from murder after losing someone important to him (who isn't even dead), Bruce has described José Garzonas as possessing "righteous anger," and Robin is probably inextricably tied up with his place as Bruce's son/ward.* After being resurrected, Jason wakes up and the Joker isn't dead and there's someone taking up his role, the very first thing he was to Bruce. Looking at events from Jason's (limited) perspective, I guess I kind of don't blame him for thinking Bruce would've killed the Joker, and thinking also that things, as they stand, imply a lack of care on Bruce's part.

I think there's a clear throughline of Jason's expectations from what we see in his original '80s run to Lost Days/UtRH. I also will reiterate that I'm approaching this not from what Bruce ought to have done, but rather what I think Jason might’ve expected.

* I do have one point of confusion, which is (as far as I could tell) in Jason's post-crisis iteration, there's no reference to Jason being adopted as Bruce's son (as opposed to ward) except in NTT #55, after he's dead. Bruce accuses Dick of disliking Jason because he was adopted when Dick was not, and Dick returns that he wasn't upset about the adoption, just confused. Did I miss something? Are we supposed to assume the pre-crisis adoption holds? Are the writers just doing the standard inconsistent thing?

#jason todd #bruce wayne #panels #meta

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stealingyourbones · 1 year

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Hi! 💙💙💙 How have you been?

*gently hands you a bowl decorated with rat ribs together with a spoon made out of a mammoth's tibia*

Soooooooooooo, you know how when Joker kidnapped Tim Drake in that one movie, he planted some kind of chip that will program Tim to become the Joker when he grows up/when it becomes activated? Like, it wasn't enough he was Joker Junior? The Joker actually had a contingency for when he dies so that The Joker character never actually dies? (holy shittttt)

WHAT IF when Jason came back to Gotham, or goes to Titans Tower to beat Tim up, the ectoplasm that Jason had in him somehow tranfers to Tim when Tim tried to fight back?

AND THEN the ectoplasm activates the chip?

Instead of the chip controlling Tim to act or behave like the Joker, THE CHIP INSTEAD SIZZLES AND PHASES OUT OF TIM, AND CREATES GHOST JOKER INITIALLY MADE UP OF CORRUPTED ECTOPLASM. *EVIL CACKLING*

*ehem*

Of course, it doesn't happen in a day. It takes WEEKS for this ghost to take form, naturally migrating to Gotham and gathering all the ectoplasm it needs to purify its corrupted core, naturally, on its own, and develop its own consciousness/cognition/awareness/whatever it means to develop a sense of self.

First, it felt empty. Without an obsession. A purpose for its existence.

And then, it saw Batman. It saw Nightwing doing a quadruple somersault.

And, it saw Robin trying (and failing) to go on patrol despite his injuries.

This ghost quietly drifts behind them with fascination and wonder, and little bits of an obsession forming. The obsession continues to form the more this ghost watches the little Robin.

(Well, this ghost doesn't know. Even if it was formed from the chip made by OG!Joker, it did come out of little Tim Drake, who had loved the idea of Robin and what it stood for more than the Bat.)

And then, the Red Hood saw him.

"Joker," the Red Hood growls, guns ready in his hands.

Joker. Yes. That sounds right. That sounds exactly what he should be.

"Looks like being dead can't keep you from obsessing over Batman, huh?"

Batman? No. That doesn't sound right. Perhaps he's fascinated. But obsess over the Batman? No, no, no...

The ghost, Joker, tilts his head. He sees the Red Hood stiffen, and he wonders what kind of expression he's making.

"Not Batman." He giggles, and laughs, and pictures a little Robin losing every little piece of light he's supposed to represent.

Light. Robin is the light. A bright light full of laughter, stubborness, and hope.

This ghost has a small memory of this little Robin bleeding beautifully in his own blood... Still stubbornly bright no matter how much pain the little Robin was receiving...

Yes.

The Joker just knows that it was born from that beautiful pain. And he's born to destroy that beautiful light.

One day, he will. He will capture the little Robin and make that light his... Or snuff it out until he's Robin no more! Yes!

Robin grapples past the alley he and Red Hood was in. And, in a blink of an eye, the Joker turns invisible, his laughs continuously echoing even when he's left.

***

For the first time since the incident in the tower, the Red Hood appears in the Batcave, mask off and face grim.

Bruce pushes Tim behind him. Nightwing tenses where he stands. Tim wants violence vengeance to beat Jason up or kick him in the crotch waits quietly behind Bruce with narrowed eyes.

Red Hood-- Jason didn't care.

"The Joker is back."

***

Welp, this got long! 😂 But please have this! 💙💙💙I hope you're doing okay 💙 Drinking lots of water, getting lots of sleep, and eating lots of good food 💙

the movie you're referencing is Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker

how many qualities does this version of Joker retain from Tim? Does he resemble the Joker or does he look like a very young Joker that looks the same age as Tim, the same way he looks relatively the same age as Tim in the BB:RotJ movie? There are so many fun ways to mess around with this prompt. Go ham y'all

#dpxdc #bones replies

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natalieh0490 · 11 months

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Dc/Dp - Jason Todd Idea

I have heard people call Jason a revenant before in this kind of crossover, but what if it is taken in a different direction.

In this world revenants are people who return from the dead because they were not avenged like normal. But the process of someone forcing themselves back to life is very stressful, so it is rare. Then if someone manages to actually succeed the strain of the experience drives them permanently insane with a side of permanent rage. The newly resurrected person would only be able to focus on hunting the person who murdered them, and depending on the situation the people who allowed the loss of their life to be buried so easily. After their hunt was completed they would instantaneously drop dead. Then they would either immediately completely move on or wither away into nothingness depending on the person, but a revenant can never become a ghost.

Revenants could also be the inspiration behind zombies in the story. More importantly, revenants are the reason why people are buried six feet deep. So the revenants would suffocate before it could seek vengeance.

Bring Jason back into my idea. Jason came back to life as a traditional revenant, and due to his unyielding stubbornness managed to get out of the grave and begin his mindless hunt. But then Thalia found him and tossed him into the pit and managed to give him his mind back. For the first time there was a revenant who had regained their mind. Well mostly. Jason was still constantly angry which he hadn’t been before coming back to life, or at least not like this. Sometimes he would lose himself completely to the anger. Everyone blamed it on the pit madness, which could be its own Ectoplasmic side effect, but it was really his revenant nature resurfacing.

Later on, somehow someway Danny and Jason end up meeting. They both recognize each other as a kind of kindred spirit because they both are straddling the line between life and death, albeit in very very different ways. Since they recognize each other in such an instinctual way, Jason begs Danny to cure him of the pit madness. But Danny can’t because what he is dealing with isn’t pit madness and the rage is the only thing connecting his soul to his body even if he has regained his sanity.

It isn’t that Jason has fits of rage. He has fits of sanity.

Those fits of sanity last a very long time, and the rage impedes his life less as he adjusts, but that is how it works. Even if Jason avenged himself, it would be to fate if it made him essentially a extremely liminal human, die instantly, or some mysterious alternative option. No one knows what will happens because nothing like Jason had ever existed before. There have been documented cases of halfas before Pariah Dark eliminated every single one before Danny and the rest came along. But there has never ever been a single case in history of a revenant who regained themselves instead of carrying out their mission.

If you choose to use any part of my idea, please leave a link in the comments so I can read it.

Thanks

#batfam #jason todd #joker #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp #dc x dp au #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom

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mathiwrites · 1 month

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the justice league's moms' book club's guide to vampire slaying, a martha kent, alfred pennyworth, atlanna & hippolyta fanfic

edit: I was hit by the kudos bot, if ya'll could send a click over to the fic to even out the hits it would help so much! (the stats inversion is stressing me out.)

Chapter 2 - Alfred Pennyworth

Alfred Pennyworth’s mornings start long before the sun rises, on a good day. They also start just after the children have gone to bed.

He delicately pulls back the covers, turns to the side of the bed and puts on his slippers one foot at a time. The bed will be made, now that it is no longer occupied. He lays out his clothes, each outfit more or less the same for days reserved for the manor. The differences are in the details—the fine pinstripes, a change in the cuffs or a more ornate lapel. It’s the little things that amuse him without changing too much in his routine. The boys bring in enough excitement on their own.

Before dressing, he washes his face and brushes his teeth. A fine tooth comb is run over his moustache to ensure that every stand is in order. He’ll make sure his hair falls in line just as well. Then, his clothes are put on in the exact same order: shirt and socks, slacks and suspenders, shoes, then waistcoat and lastly, gloves. The uniform represents the home. A well-kept man keeps a neat home; more often than not, Alfred is the first face that welcomes any guest at the manor.

Ace’s food clinks into his bowl, just half a cup in the morning. The dog stretches from his large, fluffy bed, pink tongue unfurling before padding over to nuzzle Alfred’s palm. Alfred affectionately pets his head, then scratches behind his ear. “Good boy,” he says, by way of greeting him.

Two meals are to be prepared today for lunch. By the time he finishes, entire mini-pies made from scratch, the two boys filter down the stairs. Dick with his overly long hair, due for a cut, but destined to push the chore back as long as he can (or as long as he thinks his girlfriend likes it), and Jason with his bag that is just a touch too big for his little stature.

“Al, you’re up early.”

“Morning, Alfred!” Jason beams, excited for another day of school. For all the vitriol he had for Batman the day he was found, swinging tire iron and all, he has truly taken to living in the manor. By far, his most favourite part of his new life is school. Alfred has never seen a child apply himself so meticulously and so appreciative of the gifts that were given to him; he didn’t have the opportunity to learn when he was trying to survive, so he makes the best of it. “Morning, Ace!” He adds, already sneaking cereal from his bowl to the happy hound.

“Morning, Master Dick. Master Jason.”

“Bruce still asleep?” Dick asks while plucking the cereal bowls off the counter and setting them on the table. He helps Jason put his lunch in his backpack. “I didn’t hear him come up last night.”

“Likely,” Alfred says, putting out different cereal accoutrements. Jason dives straight into the bananas and squeezes out a drizzle with honey and makes, what he calls, ‘farty-noises’. “Are you ready for your presentation today, Jason?”

“Yeah,” he says, distracted by the food.

“I read it over, it should go great,” Dick grins. The smile that blooms on Dick’s face is as boyish and bright as the first day Bruce brought him home.

Alfred returns the smile, unable to believe how much Dick has grown in the past couple of years. Now, they have two children in the house. What a dream, what a lovely fantasy—what a wonderful reality. There was a time where Alfred would have never believed Bruce would let go of his anger and allow others into his life. Not too long ago, he had feared that Bruce would turn any children in his path into vicious warriors searching for vengeance. Seeing the two boys before him, he has never been more glad to be wrong.

“Think we can take a fancy car to school today?” Dick wiggles his brows. The rules were clear. If they’re early, their homework is done and going together, Dick can drive any car he’s insured on. Bruce had been kind enough to put his name on at least one sports car.

“Yeah! Can we?” Jason cheers.

“I should think so. I would prefer it if you drove something with more than two seats.” Alfred fetches the keys to his car. “Enjoy.”

“That’s… not,” Dick grimaces, but it lasts only a fraction of a second before he smiles again. “Thanks, Alfred. We’ll take good care of her.”

“Drive carefully and have a pleasant day at school.”

“Thanks, Al.”

“Bye, Alfred!”

Once the children have gone and their plates are cleaned, Alfred prepares a tray for Bruce with a single cup of coffee and buttered toast. On late nights, he prefers a light breakfast for sustenance. The steps down towards the batcave are long and winding, but Alfred enjoys the exercise. It had been a different story before he installed the anti-slip mats. It was a test of his nerve and his fine muscle control.

He catches his son sleeping over the keyboard of the main console, several screens flashing feeds and information. Bruce still wears the suit, though the cowl has been abandoned somewhere or other. Alfred places the cup of coffee on a weighted warmer for whenever Bruce wakes up. The plate of toast remains covered. He finds a large blanket, its fabric still soft and smelling like rose, bergamot, lychee and cedarwood. He wraps it around Bruce’s shoulders, a gentle show of affection.

Now that all his children have been attended to, Alfred can finally begin the real work. He hangs his waistcoat and replaces it with his striped apron. A feast must be prepared and he is but a man. Alfred adores the challenge.

All his tools are set neatly in front of him, mixing bowls, measuring cups and food scales. He’d made a large bulk of the savoury foods this morning, but now, it’s time for the fun stuff: cupcakes ! It’s a good thing he waited for the boys to leave for school, or he would have had to fight them off. There’s only one left, but he likes his odds against Bruce.

#batfam #batman #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #justice league #dc comics #ao3 feed #ao3 #dc fanfic #dc robin #parental figures #parenting #fanfiction #older characters #my fics

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mckinlily · 2 years

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I kinda really want a de-aged au where Jason “No More Dead Robins” Todd has to deal with all his brothers when they were first joining the Bat/Wayne family and has to try (and consistently fail) to keep them from becoming Robin.

Like there’s some random magic user who casts a spell for [hand wave plot necessitated reason here] and Jason is just chillin doing his Red Hood thing, but when the spell starts to take affect, Bruce is off world on some League mission so Jason ends up having to handle it all on his own.

First to show up is Dick. Or rather, tiny, grieving, baby Dick. Jason’s first surprise is that baby!Dick isn’t the cheerful, happy, carefree kid Jason always assumed he had to be. No, tiny Dick is angry. He’s bitter and snappish and hell bent on finding—and killing—his parents’ murderer. At first Jason is selfishly pleased to find out Golden Boy wasn’t quite so golden after all and encourages getting vengeance, take that, Bruce! This only lasts like a day, though, because Jason realizes, feelings about the One Rule and his personal moral code aside, encouraging a nine year old to kill is seriously messed up.

So Jason’s next step his to take Dick back to his second favorite safe house and tell him to stay put while he tracks down whatever/whoever did this to Nightwing and fix it.

This plan hits a snag because guess what tiny, nine year old Dick does not do? Tiny Dick does not believe Jason when he says he’s his brother from the future. Tiny Dick doesn’t care if he is in the future. He’s still going to find his parents’ killer and end him. Some guy with a weird helmet isn’t going to stop him. Jason discovers this when he runs across tiny Dick leaping between buildings in Crime Alley while on patrol.

Jason drags him back to the safe house and locks all the doors and windows. He runs across tiny Dick again three blocks later. He returns Dick to the safe house. Dick is out again in less than an hour. How is this possible?! Jason is Bat and League trained, he knows how to secure a location, how can he not contain ONE (1) small circus child?!?!!

And yet. Dick keeps escaping. He has tentatively accepted that he isn’t in his time and his parents’ murderer isn’t around at this time for him to confront. But this has only led him to the conclusion that he needs to help Jason fix this so he can go back to him own time and get his revenge. No, Jason cannot stop him.

(Really. Jason can not stop him. Jason is starting to wonder if the creation of Robin was much less Batman taking on a child solider as his partner and much more a desperate attempt to keep eyes on an insane child escape artist.)

Then baby Tim shows up.

Baby Tim has noticed that Batman has not been around and that Jason seems to be acting in his stead. Baby Tim has concerns. Baby Tim’s solution to this is to confront Jason—the six foot two jacked man with guns as baby Tim helpfully (accusingly) points out—and demand to know his relationship with Batman. Jason is so flabbergasted, he spends twenty minutes splutter-shouting at Tim about self-preservation and acceptable risk and ends up bundling up the kid in blankets in the spare room and ordering him to take a nap. And then locks himself in his own room to scream to himself about eleven year olds who sneak into Crime Alley to confront crime lords with guns.

Jason also maybe tells (demands) baby Tim to never, ever become Robin when he wakes up (and goes straight for the coffee. Good to know some things never change). Tim seems a little baffled, eyes going wide at the suggestion that he could be Robin and oh, whoops, Jason just accidentally gave him ideas, didn’t he? Luckily, Tim listens and agrees to home.

(Or at least, so Jason believes.)

Meanwhile, Dick has gone off on his own again. He not going to wait on adults to get back to his own time. And Jason left his notes open on his computer anyway. Jason is only sort-maybe-totally panicking by the time he tracks own his older-turned-much-younger brother in the worst part of Gotham. How did a tiny child get so far on his own?!

Finally acknowledging that he won’t outclass his stupid golden older brother even when he’s nine years old, the ass, can’t he let Jason have this one thing?!, Jason talks Dick into sticking with him to solve the issue. Jason tells himself it’s because he can be persuasive and charming when he wants to be. He’s pretty sure it’s actually because tiny Dick doesn’t trust him to share relevant information if he isn’t right there with him. Whatever. At this point, if it keeps the tiny terror in his sight, he’ll take it.

Jason does insist on getting Dick decent gear if he’s going to follow Red Hood through the streets Gotham (How did Jason get to this point?! He can’t be becoming Bruce. He REFUSES. He blames this angry gremlin child—who just smiled at him and it was like seeing the sun for the first time after winter, and what the hell is wrong with him?!?). Jason figures they’ll drop by the Batcave and snag one of Damien’s first costumes. Jason finds out where the original Robin name came from. There are tears. Jason will not admit they weren’t just Dick’s

(Oh, is that was Nightwing threw such a fit when Jason first put on the Robin suit? Jason thinks he owes him an apology or two for the grudge he’s held over that. Also Bruce deserves a good punch to the face.)

Eventually the tears are temporarily on hold, but Dick refuses to wear any of Damien or even Tim’s old suits. Jason gives in and tries to get him to at least wear darker colors. Dick refuses. Jason tries to get him to wear pants. Dick still refuses. Jason doesn’t understand how he’s losing an argument with a nine year old, but he is. Badly.

(Somewhere, Bruce is laughing at him, Jason just knows it. He owes Batman so many punches.)

So now Red Hood is somewhat desperately tracking down the rogue spell caster with a brightly colored shadow that is alternating between impish laughter and moods so dark it worries Jason. He really needs to get his big brother back. He’s patting himself on the back for at least keeping Tim out of this…

When he finds out Tim’s version of “don’t become Robin” is to follow them around as a civilian with nothing but a camera. He hasn’t changed clothes since Jason last saw him and his questions about where he’s been are disturbingly evasive. Jason abruptly remembers that eleven year old Tim didn’t live at the Manor yet and with the status of Drake Manor now—Jason’s questions become more desperate. Tim’s answers become more worryingly evasive.

Ok, so now Jason two reckless, de-aged baby brothers to keep track of. This time, it only take five instances of Tim climbing out a window (he swears baby Dick is giving him hints, the dick) for Jason to throw the kid into a bulletproof suit (at least this one agrees to pants) and dragging him along with them.

By the time Damien arrives, (even more) bitty and murderous, Jason throws the towel in. Somehow Dickface transformed the murder gremlin into a semi-functional human being by making him Robin, so Jason shoves a suit at him, makes up some bullshit about “right of passage” and “earning a place next to Batman”, and lays down the rules of being Robin. Namely, no killing. Jason doesn’t know how he became the one enforcing the No Killing rule but 1) He really doesn’t want to deal with getting stabbed by the Demon Brat and 2) They’re…kids. And no, Jason isn’t changing his moral code. Some people need to die, and he stands by that. But… But he doesn’t want kids doing the killing. Taking a life is heavy, and he doesn’t want his brothers to have to carry that. Not now.

…Maybe not even ever.

(Is that what Batman and Nightwing—? No. Nope. Shutting that down. Not examining that.)

Good news is that Damien does follow the no kill rule, and there are not attempted murder attempts. Damnit, Dickface was right, baby-baby Damien does bleed a need for acceptance in the most stabby and murderous way possible. Underneath the snobbery and death glares, he is desperately trying to meet all Jason’s expectations. Doesn’t mean he isn’t still an incredibly difficult kid.

And while Jason has the sense, or at least self-preservation instincts, not to try to keep this on in the house (by this point, he’s grudgingly moved to staying at the Manor and begged Alfred’s assistance and home-cooked food), Red Hood is still out in the field with three baby Robins. Damien is certainly most trained and best equipped of the three and, theoretically, in least amount a danger. But he also keeps diving into conflict, sometimes in fights that Jason hadn’t even intended to be involved with, out of some combination of pride and misguided belief that leaping into outnumbered fights will lead to a closer chance to meet his dad.

(And the reasoning behind that doesn’t make Jason sad. It doesn’t.)

Jason lasts maybe two days before he’s breaking out the emergency communication and calling Bruce to come home and manage his Robins. Jason’s message left on the Justice League servers are 90% swear words and death threats and he probably landed himself back on some sort of watch list again, but he needs to make sure Bruce drops the damn mission and comes home right now.

(Jason doesn’t know it and wouldn’t believe it if he did, but Bruce would come home if Jason asked for help with a paper cut. It’s his son and Jason. Coming to him. For help. For all his faults and mistakes with Jason, all Bruce ever wanted was to help his son.)

Bruce zetas home immediately, and Jason has the satisfaction of seeing Bruce isn’t actually all that more effective at keeping his actively insane brother out of the field either. Bruce does have experience with his sons at this age though and, though he can’t keep them from Robin-ing, is at least better at getting through to them in other ways at these ages than Jason. He, with the help Alfred (it’s mostly Alfred, tbh), manage to wrangle the tinies enough that Batman and Red Hood can make a break for it to take down the rogue magic user.

(Bruce may have pulled in a LOT of League resources to find them. For the sake of his second son’s clearly-frazzled sanity.)

Once everyone is back to normal, Jason maybe nearly cries when adult!Dick immediately jumps in to mediate whatever argument/fight that Tim and Damien promptly starts up. He definitely embarrasses himself by hugging his older brother when he’s back to his cheerful, adult self. “We are never talking about this, Dickface. Never.”

Dick is too busy cooing over Jason being “such a good big brother!” to listen. Jason shoves him at the Demon Brat because he is DONE with being responsible for crazy preteens and Dick deserves it after the hell baby him put him through for the last week and change. Tim makes a beeline for the Batcomputer, already rambling about all the cases he dropped while he was inadvertently transformed into his younger self, clearly entering a hyper fixation fugue state and Jason will have yank him out of it in—

Wait. No. That’s Bruce’s problem now. Jason is not getting involved.

(Keep telling yourself that, says a voice in his head that sounds annoyingly like Dick. Jason kindly tells it to fuck off.)

Bruce is hovering in that “I want to talk to you about something but would also rather have all the bones violently ripped from my body than express that with words” way, and normally Jason would rather remove his molars with a crowbar (yeah, that crowbar) than be alone with Bruce when he gets like that. But after over a week of being responsible for increasingly insane baby Robins, Bruce’s company is honestly the most preferable and isn’t that sad.

But then Bruce opens his mouth like he’s actually going to say something, possibly something infuriating like “thank you for looking out for your brothers” and Jason can’t have that, so he starts yelling. It starts something like "What were you thinking making kids Robin?!” and “How couldn’t you stop them?!” and “WERE THEY ALL THIS INSANE!?!!”

The answer is yes, yes, they were. Bruce is only slightly amused by Jason’s reaction to what has been, for nearly twenty years now, his daily life.

After Jason has yelled most his stress out and been assured, yes, this is just the normal response to children, what the hell, Bruce says something like, “it was the same with you.”

Jason’s death glare would be more effective if he didn’t pull it out every time he talked to Bruce. As it is, Bruce is remarkably unaffected. And even goes on to add, “Robin was how I convinced you to stay.”

And Jason would love to deny it, yell at Bruce and remain blind, but he’s exhausted and drained and just completed a crash course in yeah, kids are really fucking hard, actually.

And thing is…he remembers. He remembers being a street kid suddenly taken in by Batman. He remembers being scared and cold and hungry and having no understanding of what kindness meant. No comprehension of the idea of someone who would simply want to help. For nothing in return. Being Robin—it gave him a reason. A purpose and job to tell, to tell himself he was earning his keep, to keep his mind from jumping to other, so much worse uses for a young boy.

It does fix everything. Jason isn’t magically slotted perfect back into the family. He’s still mad at Bruce for a whole laundry list of things. But for the first time… maybe putting kids in costumes to fight crime still was an irresponsible, crazy, stupid thing to do. But it wasn’t like Jason was able to do any better.

Turns out his brothers are just really fucking insane, actually.

Guess that’s what made them family.

#batfamily #whoops I wrote a thing #jason being dragged kicking and screaming towards realizations about his family?#or something #mckinlily writes: batfam fic

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dceuheadcanons · 8 months

Text

AU where Jason gets told that, actually, Bruce DID kill The Joker. He just got brought back by Superman, because Superman knew if Bruce didn't follow his morals it'd only break him further. (I honestly think he deserved that vengeance though. I mean, isn't that his whole thing? Morals go out the window when it's his kids getting hurt.)

When Jason returns to Gotham, he goes straight home. Sits in the main room in his old favourite spot. He means to kill Bruce for not saving him, sure, but a part of him also just missed home.

Jason still kind of acts like a child. He died when he was 10 in this AU. He still cries easy, still flinches at even the thought of The Joker. But he's definitely different now.

Trained in combat by Talia Al Ghul herself, due to being brought back by her father's Lazarus Pit, he was taught how to repress most of his emotions. Talia wanted a replacement for Bruce.

Give me an extremely broken Jason. He's just a child still. He would have only been eighteen had he not died, but he'd been put in the body of a man in his late 20s. Give me a Jason that is angry and vengeful, but who really just wants to be hugged by his dad and told everything will be okay. Give me a Jason that still looks at his older brother and his grandad (Alfred, obviously) like they're the coolest people alive. Give me a Jason that's had nothing but suffering in life, the only time he felt safe being the four years he was Bruce's child.

He doesn't hate his dad. He could never hate his dad. Not when he knows that he tried to save him, that he killed The Joker and fought hard to keep the bastard dead.

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shattersstar · 10 months

Text

faith.

pairing: cowboy!jason todd x reader

prompt: ain’t no sunshine by bill withers

a/n: 3/3 enjoy y’all <3

—

It was dark, the moon only a sliver amongst the endless black of the sky. It was that kind of boundless darkness, almost crushing in its weight save the stars that sparkled and told stories of their own. Jason remembered those myths well, all the different stories about the same clusters, along with ones made up by his once young mind. Once carefree and unclouded by the pain that now lived deep in his bones. The pain that made Jason who he was, a runaway lover with blood staining his hands. But that was a lifetime ago, he had gained some semblance of peace, found in you as your presence alone soothed his fractured soul.

Despite the distance between the two of you, he still felt that call of calm for him. A beacon that hummed a few towns over. You had left the farm, venturing out to gather what you needed before you and Jason ventured into the mountains. He wanted to work chopping trees and you couldn’t be bothered to stay on your grandparents farm any longer. You knew a path easy to travel, to build a secluded life away from the dry stretching plains, and acres of farmland you been bound to far too long.

You wanted quiet and easy work, a log cabin and a big kitchen. And rain, you had wanted storm clouds and rainy days. Jason had left the cold of the east for a reason, but obliged with cooler climates for you. He obliged to tend the farm alongside you and your grandparents while he stayed, and took over your duties when you left. And then he was left in charge of the entire land as your grandparents were called away for the birth of yet another grandchild.

Jason supposed he should have been flattered with the trust from not only you, but your family. They knew of what was to come when you returned, they’d lose two farmhands sure, but the kid they had raised into an adult was now in love and ready to venture into the unknown. And your grandparents had let Jason stay in their own home despite knowing he was whisking you away, and doubled down their trust by leaving their entire home in his care until you or they returned.

It all washed over him as he sat a top his horse amongst the tall grassy fields that stretched along the back of the property before dipping into marshy lands and a noisy creak. He could hear the water babbling along now, with the constant buzzing of cicadas and hum of those nightly creatures that stalked the edge of the lands. The guard dogs were silent, and his worry moved away from himself to you. The winds were picking up, harsher by the minute and he prayed you were asleep safely in a bed with your horse in a stable. He could hear the way the wind whistled through the dryer plains beyond the front of the house, howling along with the coyotes. It made his heart beat unsteadily in his chest—please not tonight—he found himself begging to no one in particular. Jason wasn’t one to worry, he never let himself get carried away with emotions like this, and he knew you were beyond capable, it just made his sweat run cold.

Something about the air tonight was not kind enough for the likes of you, someone so beautiful and warm in a sea of ugly. You were the arms he fell into, covered in blood and regretting the choices that brought this life to you. You were the voice that begged him to stay awake and the hands that tended his wounds with such love to die felt like a sin in and of itself. To cause you that pain, that sorrow and grief would eat swallow him whole—dead or alive. And now you were focused on leaving, yes by choice, but not entirely your own. The pain Jason had ran away from came knocking with a vengeance and while you two had time, someone was bound to recognize the infamous Red Hood; the outlaw, killer, vigilante—you never cared for such titles—so you resolved to leave.

To wash the blood from your door step and burn your ruined clothes while he rested. You devised your entire plan within those unconscious hours, presenting it to him after lying to your grandparents on his behalf and already having their approval to go. Jason had mentioned liking when he worked in lumber before, and now spent hours chopping wood to clear his head. There was a bountiful amount of firewood at this point, your grandma kept trying to tell him to stop, but Jason was never great at listening.

Yet he listened as you explained the closest mountain range, where you two could settle, what you needed and how you would survive a lot more secluded before. And while Jason had spent most of his formative years alone at this point, he had never really lived like this. He had camped in valleys and hidden out in ghost towns, but he would sacrifice more than adjusting to living off the grid for you. You were asking nothing compared to what he was asking you. To runaway with a man who was wanted, to love a man who killed and be with him alone. Jason could never ask that of you, and yet you offered your answer freely. He knew the weight of your decision, knew you didn’t take nor make it lightly, and wished you were here more than anything.

He had finally healed enough to start working again, keeping himself busy day and night while awaiting your return. He was out in the fields checking the damaged fences, making sure nothing got in and with all the barnyard animals secure, he shouldn’t have to worry about anything getting out. He wasn’t sure how long he was out there, lost in thought and worry, but when he glanced back towards the house, a light that hadn’t been there before flickered in one of the back windows.

Upstairs.

His room?

He tried to gauge if it was his room, but urged his horse towards the house nonetheless. Jason’s horse hadn’t even come to a full stop before Jason was hopping off. He lazily strung his reigns over the back porch and didn’t even bother with his boots as he yanked the back screen door open. He made his way through the kitchen and past the dining room. He tried to see if your boots were at the front door, but was only squinting at formless objects in the dark before taking the stairs two and three steps at a time. Jason was practically skipping up them, not entirely sure what he was going to find, but he found himself hopeful despite it all. An intruder was likely, but as he pushed open his own bedroom door, he found you shedding your jacket to the floor in front of his mirror. The door creaked as he nudged it open, you had barely turned around fully before Jason crossed the space.

His chest collided with yours hard enough to knock you off balance, before his arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you close. You barely managed to wind your arms around his waist, taking in the scent of wet grass and dirt that was caked into Jason’s clothes. He didn’t even realize his cowboy hat was still on, the weathered black hat tumbling off his head and brushing your shoulder as it fell.

“Hi cowboy.” You hummed into his chest, feeling Jason hold you a little tighter.

“Fuck I’ve missed your voice angel” He mumbled in response, both of you surprise by his candour omission, and yet Jason was unable to stop himself. “You smell so good—God—missed everything about you.”

You laughed lightly at that, you thought you reeked of sweat, riding for too long and hard to get back to Jason. But to him, it was the scent of hot, sun soaked leather and skin, the summer smell where the warmth of the star seemed to radiate from your body. You smelled real and like yourself. It was what Jason needed, to let you envelope his senses and bring that calm you only knew how to provide. It was a wave of reassurance that scared him. He had never found peace in any place or anyone like you. There were a few he cared for, even less he loved, but you were something beyond that entirely. You were contact with the real world that Jason once thought was out of reach. Something intangible suddenly in his arms and Jason couldn’t find anymore words to convey that.

“I’ve missed you t—wait how are you feeling?” You pushed yourself out of Jason’s arms, much to his dismay, taking him in properly for the first time. He let you push his jacket off his shoulders, landing on the ground with a loud thud. You wasted no time untucking his flannel, earning a crooked grin you pointedly ignored. You undid the few done up buttons before letting it join the floor with both your jackets. Jason was only in his pants and a tattered undershirt he had obviously ripped the once long sleeves off of at some point. Your hands smoothed over the once torn skin you could see, your eyes flicking up to his and watching his face as your hands wandered blindly down his clothed torso. Jason knew there was no point in stopping you, it would be quicker to let you assess his injuries instead of trying to explain he was fine only for you to check anyways. He only swallowed when your fingers prodded his side, your attention immediately turning to that spot. The stitches you thought you had administered rather clumsily were raw, and tender, but healing nonetheless.

“You better bandage that back up so—“

“I will.” He relented easily for perhaps the first time ever. Jason would do whatever he needed in order to get you into his arms fastest. All the bruises had vanished, and his split lip was almost fully healed. He looked good—like himself, and it was all you wanted. “I’m good baby. Ain’t nothing wrong no more.” You gave in, hands settling on his abdomen and you let your chin rest on his chest. You looked up at him with a small smile and Jason’s own hands found their way to your hips.

“Nothings wrong? Not a single thing?” You teased, exhaustion creeping into your face.

“Not a single thing I give a shit about.” Jason replied with that same air of teasing. Your eyes fell closed as you laughed, opening again when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You sleeping in here tonight?”

“My grandparents are gone?”

“Yeah, ‘nother grandkid.”

“I think great grandkid.” Jason stayed quiet at that, regardless of the logistics you were able to spend the night freely with him. While he had approached you for work, Jason hadn’t moved in with the intent of being with you. He was given his own room for that reason, and when your grandparents caught on to what was happening, they were fine with your relationship, but only a married couple shared a bed. You had nearly rolled off the couch when they sat you down to explain that, luckily Jason wasn’t home at the time. Though you know he got some version of this conversation. And while you understood the sentiment, you had spent your childhood learning now to sneak around your grandparents farmhouse, and considering Jason’s past, you weren’t entirely surprised he was great at it too. It allowed you two to spent plenty of nights together, sometimes on the roof or riding in the open plains beyond your front door. Or just in each other’s beds, spending the night silent, but together. Despite that, it was nice to spend a night together without a worry.

“Alright, help me out of these goddamn boots then we can go to bed. I’m worn baby.” You yawned into your shoulder as you spoke.

“Go sit.” Jason nodded towards his bed as you untangled yourselves, you flopped down, laying across the bottom while he slipped off your boots. He took off his own after, turning to his closet while you kicked off your pants and climbed underneath the covers. “I was gonna give you something to wear.”

“Don’t care, c’mere. I’m so tired.” Your voice was strung out, exhausted and pleading. It struck something in him, Jason took pity on you instantly, noting your heavy eyelids and slow breaths. He left his wardrobe like he was beckoned by some unseeable force, summoned to you with his own tired strides.

You let your eyes fall closed as Jason made his way over, his mattress suddenly the most comfortable thing you had ever laid upon. Your attention regained for a second when the sound of his belt clattering to the floor hit your ears—eyes shooting open with a blazing curiosity—but Jason snuffed out the candle you lit on his desk and crossed the space before you could process anything. He didn’t even bother walking around to the other side, just let himself press his knees to either side of your legs, arms resting beside your head as he took you in with natures intended lighting. The sliver of the moon still shone bright enough to make his room aglow in white grey lustre, the crystal sun catcher hanging from his window twinkled like starlight against the walls as it spun. You had given it to him, well put it up in his room and hoped he liked it.

He had, it reminded him of the oceans he had once seen, how the water played with light like nothing else. Both sun and moon transformed by the waves that felt so far off. He take you one day, when your home in the mountains is built and you were both settled. He’d take the money you didn’t know he had and spend a summer on the beach with no one around.

“Easy cowboy, don’t let your mind go runnin’ off on me.” It was like you could hear his thoughts, sense the gears turning and crowding his mind. Jason let his gaze fall back into focus, taking you in underneath him properly this time. The white of your dirty shift seemed to shimmer, the gold chain you always wore sparkled as it rested upon your collarbones in its own snake like formation. But your eyes truly drew him in, lashes sweeping with each sleepy blink, lips upturned into a small smile, all while you looked at him like no other. One of your hands cupped his jaw, fingers pressing softly into him, urging a response out of him.

He pressed his forehead into yours and murmured, “Couldn’t run away from you if I tried darling.”

You breathed out a laugh, your other hand finding the side of his face. “You better not try.” You warned jokingly, Jason’s nose brushing down yours before he placed a kiss on the tip.

“Got it boss.” Jason’s voice fell into the honey shaded tone, deep and sweet, slow and pulling you in. He could see it in the antsy way your eyes flickered from his gaze to his mouth, lips just hovering above yours. And Jason wasn’t trying to tease, or taunt, but wanted to burn this image into his mind. Wanted to remember every detail in perfect clarity till the end of time, he wanted the last thing he saw before his final death to be you, in this moment, underneath him after returning to home with the intent of leaving behind your life for him. It was beyond love, and the celestial bodies that illuminated the space, and the stories forever tied to them. What he felt for you was grander than that, and would transcend all of that. And Jason knew those words would never be able to pass his lips so he gave in, let his mouth meet yours for the first time in weeks.

It wouldn’t be enough, nothing Jason could give would ever be. But it was what you wanted right now, and Jason would spend the rest of his life at your feet, obliging with whatever you desired happily because if he was unable to give you the life you deserved, Jason would give himself to you in his entirety. There was nothing more he could ask of you, nothing more he could want that you hadn’t already given, all Jason could do was hope you’d take everything he had to give.

#mini disclaimer this is not apart of my facing the gun series #just a stand alone cowboy story 😌#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #writing #dc x reader #dc imagine

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masonmasters · 2 years

Text

So a small one-shot I wanna make. Just for fun. Not even gonna edit before posting. This is just an idea scratching my brain.

Jason Todd had to leave Gotham for a bit. He might only be 14 but both parents were arrested and cps wanted to take him away. He got on a bus and went to a town a state over. It was a small town named Amity. The residents didn't pay much attention to things since it was considered a very haunted place. Things were usually blamed on ghosts.

Jason ended up at house that used to belong to a pair of ghost scientists before they left Amity swearing to never do anything with ghosts again. It was only abandoned in the early 2000s. And no one would say why. But it was still a rather nice house all considered. There was a lab in the basement that Jason decided not to go near.

One night when sleeping in a bedroom looking to belong to a young boy who loved outer space he hears a voice. It's echoey and hollow somehow "Why are you in my room?" Jason sits up and standing at the end of the bed is a young, white haired kid. A few years younger than Jason.

After Jason's eyes adjust he gasps seeing that this kid is glowing a soft green. And is clearly heavily injured. Electricity burns tracing his pale skin and sharpnel sticking out of his chest. Looking more his eyes are black. Not as in his irises or pupils. His irises are a bright green and his pupils are normal. The whites of his eyes are black.

Jason is sitting there in shock looking at this dead child staring at him

The child speaks again "Why are you in my bed?"

Jason finally speaks up "I lost my home. I just need a place to sleep."

The child nods understandingly "Okay. Well scoot over I'm tired too."

The next morning Jason learns that the child's name is Danny and that he died in his parents lab. His parents were devasted by the loss and left town in order to get away from what killed their son. But didn't realize that Danny was still in the home.

Danny wasn't tied to the place and could leave if he chose. But he had no where to go and the only loved ones he had were his immediate family. He was staying and waiting for them to return and realize he was still here.

Jason didn't know how to tell Danny that if they hadn't returned after almost a decade, they likely never were coming back. So instead Jason tells Danny about how he doesn't have any family right now either. And the two form their own family.

As Jason becomes older and is taken in by the bat family eventually becoming the Red Hood. Before he goes to get his vengeance he stops to get his first found family. His partner in crime.

#dp x dc #danny fenton #jason todd #danny phantom #dp au #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #fanfic #fandom

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laalaaliaa · 1 year

Note

Hello! I saw that ur batfam requests were open so I came here to request!

Idea: You were murdered 5 years ago and they wanted vengeance. They'd spend hours on the bat computer trying to find some clues about your killer. Your killer had left many signs at the scene, including a note written on the wall with your blood, "Catch me if you can, batsy".

They found clues that lead to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The warehouse seemed to be empty. They were just about to leave until they got attacked by a masked woman. They quickly took her down and took her to the batcave for questions.

Once they got there, they immediately started asking questions. She stayed quite the whole time, she didn't make a squeak. It wasn't long before things got heated and Damian pulled of her mask in a blind rage.

You can probably imagine the shock they felt when they saw you under that mask. You could only look up at them with an evil smirk. "Damn, I guess you caught me" you said in a teasing voice.

That was all, you can choose what happens next if you'd like (or u can leave it at that). Have a good day!

Damsel in distress

fitting, except you’re not…

batfam x fem!reader

warnings: angsty

thank you for the request, i apologize for not getting requests in fast enough, i got writers block :(

enjoy!

It was inevitable. Your death was inevitable. Everyone dies, whether it be from natural causes, or in worse case scenarios—supervillains. Bruce knew one day that he wouldn’t be able to save everyone, but he didn’t know how soon that day would come. It was like a fresh memory, recoiling in the back of his mind. He couldn’t save you, no matter how hard he tried, he failed you, just like he did Jason. The others didn’t know how to take it, they fought so hard to reach you, but once they did, you were gone for good.

Jason was the second to reach the torn down building. He screamed for you, in hopes you would scream back. You never did. The most heartbreaking thing Jason could’ve ever experienced was in front of him. Bruce held your lifeless body, and he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. Did he cradle him the same way? Did he fall to the ground in utter despair? He made his way closer, watching the way Bruce held your lifeless body as if holding you would bring you back.

Bruce felt the comforting hand of Jason land on his shoulder, as if he were trying to lift the burden off of him. Bruce held you tightly, lifting his head weakly as he stared at the mocking words written right in front of his eyes: ‘Catch me if you can Batsy.’ He felt mocked, as if his own failures were finally catching up with him. Maybe they never should’ve let you gone out that night. So many things he could’ve done to prevent your demise. He failed you, he failed himself.

Years had passed, within those five years since you’d be gone, they were no longer the same. Bruce found out he had a son, and he couldn’t help but feel pained at the thought of you not being there to welcome him. Jason and Bruce no longer kept in touch, if Dick was lucky, he’d reunite the two, only for a mission and no longer. Damian didn’t know you, he didn’t want to—seeing as he didn’t want to get to know the others either, but he was curious without a doubt.

It was a usual night in Gotham, Bruce spending all his time cooped up in the bat cave, as he sent the others out. Damian wouldn’t say it—well he would—but his father was still stuck in the past. It was as if you were the only thing keeping the family together. He found it absurd. So as he returned from his nightly activities he couldn’t help but call his own father out.

“You’re ridiculous father.” He announced, sheathing his sword as he rid of his mask. Bruce turned in his chair to face Damian, who although tried his hardest to look stern and mean, looked adorable. Bruce chuckled a bit, leaning forward to reach the same height as the younger boy. “You wouldn’t understand Damian.” Damian remained blank, hostile as some would describe, his posture challenging as well. “Explain.” He uttered, his arms crossed like a brat.

Bruce scratched his chin in thought, different memories of you scattered around his brain as he tried—although failed miserably—to explain the importance of you. Damian still remained adamant that you were someone who brought weakness upon the family. Allowing them to become weak and vulnerable, but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wished he’d met you once. Shame.

“Y/N, was important because she somehow sought the better in all of us. She cared about us and was tough at times, stubborn even, but she held us together and helped us when we were lost. She died five years ago, today actually.” Bruce’s voice became weak towards the end, Damian wanted to scoff, and he did, causing Bruce’s vulnerable state to become covered with a blank stare. “You would’ve liked her.” He finished off, turning his back to the boy as he continued looking up files and information from the night of your death.

Damian left him alone, the silence of the cave comforting Bruce like a warm hug. It give him the extra boost of energy to continue searching for information. He had clues, yet they remained scattered, prompting him to feel frustrated. You were gone, he knew that, but you deserved justice.

—

“Bruce, can you come look at this.” Dick yelled with a mouthful of almonds. Bruce decided to let the computer go, hours spent with nothing to help your case. Dick was determined, with the old clues given, he had somehow pinpointed each location clue. Your favorite spot, favorite restaurant, favorite cafe. They knew everything about you, and Dick couldn’t help but resent the person more. As he continued to type away at the computer, a new clue popped up. He faltered, his fingers hovering above the keys as he eyed the location carefully.

“Bruce I,” He cut himself off, a new found determination in his veins as he turned his chair, flinching at the sight of Bruce standing directly behind him. His facade remained cold, gazing curiously at the computer before gazing at Dick. “Let’s go.” Bruce commanded, a new found hope blazing in the two men. Dick stood, sprinting in front of Bruce before he could continue towards what Dick assumed was the bat-mobile.

“Wait we need to think rationally about this, it could be a trap for all we know.” Bruce seemed to be in thought before pushing him to the side. “We either wait, and likely lose the chance of finding our culprit,” He started, hooking his cowl over his sharp features. “Or we go now and get the justice Y/N deserves.” He persisted, causing a determined expression to fall on Dick’s face as he nodded.

Dick walked ahead of Bruce, mounting his bike before slipping his mask on. He turned the bike on, the roar of the bike lively as he revved it a few times. “Bruce,” He called to his retreating figure, Bruce glanced at him from behind his shoulder. “If we’re doing this, Jason deserves to be there too.” Jason, his estranged son who wanted nothing to do with him anymore. “Send him the location.” Bruce muttered, jumping into the bat-mobile before the two sped off into the night.

—

You shrinked into the shadows, the sound of the lock keeping your refugee hidden, destroyed. A faint smile fell on your lips as you watched Bruce leading the pack, his stone cold facade one you could never forget. It was pin-drop silent, you couldn’t even feel yourself breathing at that point. “Guys I found some papers.” You heard Dick’s voice, voice you’d grown to miss over the years. You shifted in your spot, catching glimpse of Dick as he held the stack out towards Bruce.

Bruce clutched the papers tightly, information about yourself on each and every single sheet. “Look around for any clues.” Bruce grumbled, his head shifting towards where you stood. Your breath hitched, all the hard work you feared would be crumbled if he caught you, but his head immediately turned at the sound of Jason’s voice. “This is a waste of time, I could be doing more important things.” Bruce eyed him shortly before turning back where they came from. Dick continued to scan your items, quickly picking up a device you’d been working on.

“B-man I think we-“ Dick’s statement was cut short as you tackled him from your spot, kicking the device out his hands, watching it slide away. You were alert, but clearly not enough as Jason came from behind you, kicking the back of your leg and knocking you onto your knee. You were quick to stop the knee you almost received to the face, using your arms to block before using your weak leg to sweep Jason down. You bounced backwards, keeping your distance as you eyed each of them.

“Who are you.” Bruce pressed, using his harsh voice as he prepared a batarang. You remained silent, rushing towards the two boys who stood in your way as you took them both on. The only sounds you produced were when they had gotten a hit on you. You’d hiss, or groan, and they felt more determined by then. As you continued to battle it out, you were duped and stunned by Bruce’s smoke bomb, making you cough harshly as you tried to remain alert.

You failed miserably, Bruce used your blindsight to attack you a few times. After his last strike you landed on the floor, blood pooling in your mouth before you spat it out with a glare. As you tried to stand, you were pushed back down by Jason who used his foot to press you down. You winced, eyeing him silently as you assumed he was glaring at you from behind his helmet. You opened your mouth to speak before you were knocked out by Jason who punched you. Hard. Very hard.

—

When you awoke from your dazed state you were tied down to a chair. You knew where you were, the bat cave, and you knew you were gonna be interrogated. Once you finally gained recognition of everything around you, you groaned, feeling the punch you’d received from Jason. You were gonna get him back for that. As you continued to contemplate, the door across from you opened, and in walked Bruce. He was angry and had every right to be, you were surprised he didn’t attack you in your vulnerable state.

“Who are you?” He asked the same question he had asked you back at the warehouse. You only shrugged, slumping into your chair as you gazed mindlessly elsewhere. He slammed his hands on the table, gaining your attention before sliding over the papers you recognized. “Why do you have Y/N’s files.” You acted confused, looking deep in thought as you bit the inside of your cheek before opening your mouth, “How do you think I murdered her?” You tried your hardest not to laugh as you held your evil facade. It truly was hard.

He eyed you one last time before leaving the room. Every few minutes or so the others would come in, asking various questions only to be answered with fake answers. They knew you were lying, which only made it more fun on your end. As you threw your head backwards the door opened once more, you didn’t look, too tired to deal with whoever it was. However you were shocked by the baby like voice the person produced. “Your a fool who wanted to get caught. Why?”

You lifted your head forward to catch sight of yet another Robin. This one you didn’t know existed. “Wow another one, what type of child labor project is this?” You joked, even producing a laugh at your own joke. “A wannabe assassin, I see you use a sword, a league of assassins sword.” He continued, ignoring your terrible joke as he eyed you sternly. “Congratulations little Robin, but I prefer talking to people above 5’2.” He was slowly starting to become aggravated with your behavior, causing him to unsheathe his sword as he pointed it at your neck.

You smirked, licking your lips as you spoke. “Aren’t you a superhero, superhero’s don’t kill.” You reminded, watching the way his expression never faltered once. “I’m not like my father, I kill if I have to.” Your smirk fell, your mouth slightly open at the revelation. Father. As the two of you continued to stare at one another the door slammed open, the rest of them appearing as Bruce pulled the youngest Robin backwards. “We don’t kill.” He jabbed, making you smirk victoriously.

Your victory didn’t last long, the younger boy pushed Bruce before he used his sword to cut your domino mask, cutting a small portion of your cheek as well. You winced, your head falling forward as the mask fell off in two pieces, You knew there was no use in pretending no longer. You lifted your head, shocked looks appearing on each of their faces as you smirked. Your voice was silky smooth as you talked in a teasing tone.

“Damn, I guess you caught me.”

#dc imagine #dc comics #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #red hood x reader

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dolldefaced · 7 months

Text

did superman stop batman from killing the joker in aditf?

wellllllllll. it's complicated?

in aditf joker gains diplomatic immunity by becoming the representative of iran to the un (yeah. it's uh. bad)

so the premise is that batman can't even arrest the joker at this point, because of the diplomatic immunity. no one talks about murdering the joker and superman's arguement is 'yo this will fuck international relations. be chill'

here's where batman mentions the joker killed jason, superman is still concerned about the country, and batman saying he'll do what he has to. still no real indication clark thinks bruce is going to commit murder imo but 'thirst for vengeance' could be a sign? it's not like he can legally arrest joker atm either though

at the hotel room, bruce does sincerely consider killing the joker and argues with himself about it.

batman gives the joker a visit and tells him to turn himself in. obv he does not do this and brags about killing jason. batman finally has confirmation on this. batman leaves, joker goes to shoot him, he's gone.

yeah. sigh.

anyway. bruce seems to have settled on 'kill the joker' from these thought bubbles.

joker ofc says fuck it and releases a bunch of gas. superman breaks his gun, sucks up all the gas, and flies away to release it. batman follows the joker.

batman follows joker to a helicopter, they fight and one of the guys gets super freaked out

he shoots batman, then shoots the pilot in the head, causing the helicopter to crash

so batman has to jump out or die. he's not torn up about leaving the joker to die (esp since it seems like he still did want to kill him in the moment)

superman returns! from belching up the gas in the atmosphere ig. he saves batman, who knows if they don't find a body joker is probably alived. he's unhappy.

so i think if you just read aditf, it really doesn't look like superman tried to stop batman from killing the joker. hell i don't think he even realized bruce was willing to at that point. he just didnt want bruce interfering so politically nothing went south.

it seems more like bruce did want to kill the joker, but was stopped by some dude shooting erratically.

so where does 'superman stops batman from killing the joker' come from? fanon?

no. another comic!

in batman and superman: world's finest #7

this is post aditf, bruce has been on the rampage, superman was in space (killing some dudes ig? i don't really read superman. sorry). superman goes to see our hero in distress.

um. what.

tbf i can see the 'just there for revenge' because of the political stuff but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. 'anything you had to, to make sure i didn't harm the joker'

uhhhhhh. where????????

superman takes bruce on a tour. they talk about robin and batgirl. then go back to the topic at hand:

this is interesting. bc clark is right, 'farewell old foe' does not imply you wanted to save him at all, esp with all the previous thoughts of murder. but perhaps in hindsight bruce feels differently.

anyway.

i think you can sorta connect the two, but it's obvious there were years between these and different writers. i suspect no one wants to bring up the iran thing again, rightfully so, but it does leave out just why clark stopped bruce to begin with- so we're left with this.

#bruce wayne #clark kent #the joker #jason todd #by proxy lmfao. but w.o him where would this post be???#dc #a death in the family #aditf #batman and superman world's finest #meta

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 year

Text

In my head, Eddie survived, and Max didn't become a blind twisted pretzel. The minute they stepped foot outside the Upside Down and into Eddie's trailer where everyone burst in celebratory cheers. Vecna was for sure dead, and they stopped the town from being destroyed. The fact that Eddie was still wanted for murder had been forgotten, just happy that their plan had worked. Eddie couldn't help himself when he pulled Steve into a celebratory kiss in front of everyone. When Eddie pulled back, he was grinning until he realized what he had done, and the smile dropped from his face.

"Oh no! Shit, Steve, I forgot - oh, Fuck, Nancy! Wait, that was not me telling you to Fuck Nancy, just that I'm sorry for kissing your Steve," Eddie rambled in a panic.

"He, uh, hasn't been my Steve in a long time, so if you want him, go for it," Nancy replied with a wicked grin. "Although, he's still kind of frozen. I think you broke him."

Eddie isn't aware that he's a good kisser, so good that it made Steve forget where he was. He didn't care. He didn't think. Steve pulled Eddie back to him by grabbing the lapels of his battle vest and returned the kiss that he had given him. Eddie squeaked against his mouth, and he wasn't sure where to put his hands. They flapped around the both of them frantically until Steve guided them to his waist. Eddie gripped his hips tightly, moving them closer to him until their pelvises were pressed tightly together. They heard the shuffling of feet as they heard the rest of them leave, complaining loudly as they did so. They didn't hear anything they said on the way out except for Dustin.

"This is so AWESOME! I never thought to set them up TOGETHER! This is the best outcome ever!" Dustin exclaimed.

Steve chuckled against Eddie's lips and pressed him up against a wall.

"How long have you been wanting to do that, pretty boy?" Eddie asked, breathing heavily.

"Since the boathouse," Steve said as he dropped to his knees.

Meanwhile, the others were waiting outside, trying not to imagine what was probably going inside. That's when Max, Lucas, and Erica showed up. They were breathing heavily, and when they managed to catch their breath, they explained what had happened. Jason and his goons showed up, but Lucas had managed to kick their ass, saving both him and Max. Nancy and Lucas looked murderous when Erica complained about one of his goons trying to break her arm. Lucas hugged her, and Erica swore vengeance on anyone who let slip that she hugged her brother back.

"Where are Eddie and Steve?" Lucas asked.

"They're, uh, inside the trailer," Robin said as she shared a look with Dustin and Nancy.

Max marched up to the trailer to open the door when Dustin stopped her.

"You don't want to do that, trust me," Dustin said.

"Don't tell me what to do," Max said and peered into the trailer. "Oh my god."

"What?" Lucas asked as he looked over her shoulder. "Jesus! Okay, we shouldn't be watching this."

"Hold on."

"Max!"

"I just want to make sure they're doing what we think they're doing."

"That's exactly what they're doing. What do you think they're doing? Do you think that Steve is giving Eddie's dick CPR?"

"You never know. . ."

"Max!"

"Is that safe to do that in front of an open gate?"

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #stranger things ficlet #ficlet #i love ficlets

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nabtime · 10 months

Text

Our Empty Graves V

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 5: they call me devil (and you should be afraid)

Chapter Summary: Red Hood keeps running into Fetcher, who disappears on him each time, until he decides to take the matter into his own hands and hunts the other down.

Chapter Notes: title from Call Me Devil by Friends in Tokyo Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 6 // Spotify

There was a part of Jason that knew he wouldn’t find Fetcher in the safe house when he returned, but there was another (stupider) part of himself that had hoped to find the sassy little shit where he’d left him. He knew the first time had been a miracle and probably owing to the fact that Fetcher had been exhausted and recovering. He really hoped the kid had healed fully before he left. It looked like he already had a pretty fast healing rate, but Jason still worried. Like an idiot, really.

He wondered where Fetcher went. Jason didn’t believe for one second the kid actually had a place to go. But then again he literally glowed green and walked around in a Hazmat suit, which meant he was kind of hard to miss. So he had to have a place to go, to hide. Because Jason sure as shit hadn’t seen him since he left. And no, he had not looked. Well, maybe he looked a little. But it didn’t matter because he hadn’t found the fucker anywhere. There and gone again in a single night.

Jason should not be as preoccupied about it as he was. He had plans. He needed to focus. Didn’t matter that he’d felt almost calm for the first time since he resurrected around the kid (four long, long years of mindlessness and anger and a sort of helplessness and despair he hated). Fetcher was gone now and all he could do was sink back into his rage and learn to swim willingly within the haze all over again. He’d done it before and he’d do it again. Rage was useful. Anger was something he could mold and carve to his satisfaction. He would use it as a tool to strike down those that needed striking and avenge those that needed vengeance. Himself for one.

Tall, Dark, and Emotionally Repressed wouldn’t know what hit him. The Batman had failed him. Bruce had proven that while he may have loved Jason, he hadn’t loved him enough. And wasn’t that just the story of his life? Jason had never been enough. Would never be enough. Always second-rate. A good Robin, sure, but not near enough to live up to the first one. To Dick’s spark and skill and flamboyance. Dickie had set the standard for what a Robin should be and Jason had never been able to live up to it. His Replacement got closer than he ever could and it stung. Too arrogant, too forceful, too angry, too reckless. Too much, yet never enough. Jason was loved but it always came with conditions. Jason was mourned but his death had still not been enough to put a stop to the Joker. Just another page in his story instead of the catalyst to his end. He hadn’t cared that Bruce was too late to save him, he’d cared that Bruce had still not considered his death enough to put a permanent end to Joker’s murder sprees.

It pissed him off.

If the Batman, so-called protector of Gotham city, wouldn’t put an end to the festering blight on humanity at large that was the Clown Prince of Crime, then someone else would. Jason was not afraid to bloody his own hands if it meant more innocents could live. If it meant that people like Jason had been wouldn’t have to die anymore. Die broken and bleeding and scared. Thinking that Batman would save you, would pull you out of the wreckage and make sure everything was alright. Thinking that Batman would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you lived. Thinking that Batman would do anything to avenge you if you didn’t. He would not let anyone else live that lie. Die with that lie.

Because that’s all it was. A lie.

If Jason, a child he had brought in and personally trained, was not enough, then there weren’t many others that were. How many people would finally be too many? How many lives would end before the Joker’s? His hadn’t been worthy enough to count as the sacrificial lamb to end it all. Though, he supposed, he hadn’t been worth much anyway. Bruce could bluster all he wanted, pretend to be angry that someone had trespassed on Jason’s grave. But the fact of the matter was that nowhere on that headstone had he been given the name Wayne. Unclaimed and unwanted and unavenged. He wondered, sometimes, if it had been Dick that had died instead of him, if that would have been Bruce’s breaking point. But Dickie had never been stupid enough to get himself killed.

Not like reckless, angry, arrogant, Jason.

But, now, now he had a plan and he would put those traits to use.

He would continue to take over the Alley. Expand his territory and take over all trade from Black Mask and any other Kingpin trying to rule the underground. He would control the drugs, the arms, and any other goods. He would destroy what he couldn’t control and control what he couldn’t destroy. Drugs would sell no matter what he did, so he would make sure they were pure and out of the hands of minors. He would provide refuge for the weak and weary, clean spaces and warm places. He would do what Batman could not and rid the city of its more heinous strains of crime. And he would be as ruthless about it as he needed to be. He would not hold back because of some old moral code, not if it meant doing what needed to be done. He would not be so selfish as to put his conscious above the lives and well-being of others.

He would show the Bat what the city could become before he put Bruce’s morals to the test. Before he found out what Batman’s breaking point really was.

═════ ◈ ═════

Six months he’d been running everything. Killing off rival gang members, making sure everyone knew the rules and the consequences for not following them. Pissing off Black Mask and eating more and more of his territory, claiming the Alley for himself. Teasing Batman and dodging his attempts at a take-down. He wasn’t ready to give up the ghost just yet, Brucie needed more patience than that.

It was just another run-of-the-mill patrol of the area. Checking in with his lieutenants, keeping them in line and making sure no one was breaking the golden rule. Checking in on the Corner Workers, making sure they had everything they needed and that no one was trying to rough them up. Checking in on the camps, making sure everyone had food and water and shelter and anything else they needed. Keeping the pigs away from all of them.

So, imagine his surprise when he finds trouble. No, not that he just finds trouble, that was expected and the reason for the patrol in the first place, but that he finds trouble and Fetcher was in the middle of it. Trying to stop it? From the looks of it?

Taking in the scene, there were three figures. Fetcher, some guy in a black jacket and ski-mask (like you couldn’t get anymore cartoonishly criminal), and a girl all done up in high-heels and a short leather dress. Nadi if he had to take a guess. Looked like some bozo had been trying to mug one of the Ladies of the Night. Had been because Fetcher had the guy in a headlock and was- Giving the guy a noogie? The girl in question seemed to just be watching, hands on her hips and grinning, make-up and hair without a single smudge or ruffle. Fetcher must have intervened before Bozo could get very far then.

Jason joined her in watching the show. Bozo tried to pull a knife and Fetcher just kept one arm around his head and used the other to snatch it away without effort. Then he density-shifted it into his suit and gave the guy a finger wag. Like some naughty kid.

“That’s the third knife he’s done that with,” Nadi said, sounding on the brink of hysterical laughter.

Nadi, from what he had learned of the sex workers under his protection, was always one to deflect with humor when things went south. Served her well in this instance because it kept her calm and able to enjoy the show. She wasn’t new to the block either so this probably wasn’t the first time she’d had a knife pulled on her. Probably the first time a walking radiation hazard saved her though. Or, knowing Gotham, maybe not.

“He hurt you at all?” he asked her, just to make sure.

“Nah,” she said turning to him with a smile that didn’t falter at the sight of his helmet.

He was trying his best to keep his reputation good with the ones under his protection, so he was happy to see her without fear around him. The ones who should fear him were the ones that broke the rules, not the ones he made the rules to protect.

“Little man in the funky suit,” she said, pointing to Fetcher with an impeccably sharp nail, “jumped in the second I started yelling at that asshole.”

“Good,” Jason replied. “How long has this been going on?”

“Mm,” she started, brown eyes looking up in thought, “about ten minutes, I think. Glow-boy’s been keeping him down for a while.” Her eyes gleamed. “I just wanna see how many knives is gonna get involved.”

Fetcher had been keeping that man in a headlock for ten goddamn minutes. Amazing.

“Oi, Fetch,” he called, watching as the vicious little nightlight jumped at his voice and dropped the guy, who flopped to the ground, boneless, with a groan. “What are you-”

Jason watched, stunned, as Fetcher held his hands up in surrender and then disappeared. Just fucking vanished into thin air. He switched his helmet to night vision, heat vision, anything and everything. No readings. Nada. Nothing. What the fuck.

“Aw,” Nadi whined, disappointed, “you scared ‘im off.”

“I did not!” he protested. Because really, he hadn’t meant to spook him. He was just glad to see the kid up and about and apparently well enough to take on random muggers. At least Batman hadn’t gotten to him, from the looks of things.

“Big bad Red Hood,” she sang, “scaring off my savior!”

He sighed. At least someone was having a good time.

Bozo groaned, face still planted in ground of the dirty back alley. Oh, right. Assholes to punish. He moseyed over, making sure each boot thunked heavily against the asphalt. He watched Bozo grow tenser with every step he got closer.

“Talk,” he commanded. Fetcher wanted to play good cop (silly cop? ridiculous cop?) to Jason’s bad cop, so be it. He had a reputation. He could be a bit playful with the girls or soft with the kids, but trouble-makers got no mercy.

“I-I didn’t do nothin-,” Bozo started, stammering and struggling to move up onto his hands and knees.

Red Hood took care of that with a swift kick to the ribs.

“Try again.”

He wouldn’t stand for someone trying to shift the blame. Trying to get out of the consequences of their actions.

Bozo groaned and curled up on his side. Jason had no sympathy.

“Fine, fine,” Bozo said, face still one with the concrete. “Know the girls always carry a lotta cash from workin’. Figured it would be an easy grab. Wasn’t plannin’ on hurtin’ her.”

Nadi scoffed. “I worked hard for my money, asshole.” She loomed over him, hands on her hips, and Jason let her. “You thought you could just grab it off me?” She pressed a threatening heel against the guy’s bruised ribs. “I’da fought you off myself if little cujo hadn’t tackled you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bozo said miserably. “Just throw me to the cops already.”

Jason tsked. “No pigs in the Alley.” He paused, thinking it over for a moment. Guy looked young and scruffy. Desperate for money by the sounds of it, if he was willing to go for someone in Jason’s territory. Knew to keep more than one knife on him, so stupid- but with some street smarts. He could work with that. “You’re working for the girls now, as penance.”

“What?!” Bozo and Nadi shrieked at the same time.

Jason held up his hand for silence. He pointed at Bozo first. “Room and board and something better to do than trawl the streets for blood money.” Then pointed at Nadi, “Extra set of hands to do whatever you want.”

Nadi’s eyes gleamed again at that. “Whatever I want?”

Smart girl.

Bozo collapsed back down with another pitiful groan. Served him right. Jason crouched next to him, making sure he had the guy’s attention and letting a little murderous-intent bleed into his voice.

“Pull this shit again and there won’t be another second chance.”

He bared down on him, making sure it got through that thick skull just what would happen if he crossed the line again. He was lucky he’d gotten away without any maiming this time. Next time, Hood would have his head.

Bozo nodded, face pale and clammy. Jason stood up, satisfied, before turning to Nadi again.

“He tries to pull anything, let me or any of my crew know.”

And with that he grappled off, climbing back to the rooftops and running his route with a distracted air. Looking for a neon green glow he knew he wouldn’t find.

═════ ◈ ═════

The second time Jason caught sight of Fetcher out and about, it was a much bloodier encounter.

Some of Black Mask’s men had ambushed him mid-patrol, thinking they could catch him by surprise and bring him in to their increasingly irate boss. Too bad for them that Jason wasn’t a man so easily caught off guard. If there was one thing that Bats taught all the Robins that served them well- it was paranoia. If you think they’re always out to get you, you’ll be prepared for the many times they actually are.

Five against one, but Jason was packing all five of the Bennett sisters tonight and he had more tricks up his sleeves besides.

One shot to the jugular. One pistol whip to the face. One kick in the ribs and two shots to the kneecaps. Two men trying to grab at his arms at the same time, missing, and getting swept off their feet by one of Jason’s own.

One guy got an arm around his neck in the aftermath, pulling tight, and one of the two he’d knocked over popped back up and wrestled Lizzie out of his grip. Two were completely out of commission but that still left three stubborn bastards. The third one got in a shot to his thigh while he was throwing off the others.

He hissed, the bullet was unable to pierce his armor but still left a nasty bruise.

He pulled Mary out of her holster and took a rapid shot at that third guy’s hand, taking out his gun and leaving him out of the game for the rest of the fight- screaming and trying to staunch the blood pouring from his missing finger.

The other two had backed off, noticing that their odds were dwindling fast.

One guy pulled a knife, the blade glinting strangely in the light of the street lamp. Looked like it was coated in something. A paralytic, a poison? No matter what, it wasn’t likely to pierce his jacket or his armor. And the guy should know better than to bring a knife to a gun fight.

He took the shot but the guy dodged.

Idiot number two pulled a gun himself and fired off, three shots, all going large. One to the brick behind him, one to the pavement, and one to the dark of the night beyond them.

Idiot number one, being faster than Jason anticipated, made a lunge toward him and his knife skimmed the sleeve of his jacket on the left side, cutting a long and jagged stripe before just barely nicking his wrist where his jacket ended before his gloves.

His hand went numb. Fuck.

Whatever was on that knife, which shouldn’t be able to cut through his jacket, was potent. The edges of his jacket where it’d been split open began to sizzle. Double fuck. That one was his favorite.

He swung around and shot at idiot number one, being careful to dodge around the bullets being fired by idiot number two.

The tingling sensation of numbness was starting to crawl up his arm.

Idiot number one fell to a bullet in the shoulder, poison knife clattering to the ground while the guy screamed. Idiot number two was starting to look antsy, realizing he was the last man standing. Jason may be down an arm but he wasn’t about to let the guy go running. He shot- but the guy was squirrelly and dodged so that it only grazed his shoulder.

The numbness was reaching his chest. Would the paralytic kill him? Stop his heart? Or just leave him trapped? Either way he needed to end this, now. It’d already gone on too long. If he hadn’t been so fucking distracted… He hadn’t seen Fetcher in a week and a half now…

And then, well, think of the devil and he shall appear.

Last idiot standing was being held in a choke-hold by the glowing green halfling in question, which was a little funny from how short the kid was. Fetcher held him there until he passed out before dropping him and running towards Red Hood.

“Long time no see, Jellyfish,” he said, trying for a casual tone as his left leg started going out on him.

The kid gave him a flat stare before standing underneath him and swinging Jason’s left arm over his shoulder.

Fetcher was- cold to the touch. Like he’d been standing in a snowstorm and the chill had permanently sunk into his very being. He felt like static shock, like pinpricks of electricity were swirling around under the latex-like material of the suit. He felt completely unnatural and yet somehow familiar. Jason wondered, not for the first time, just what, exactly, a Fetch was.

Jason pointed to the dropped knife, sitting so innocently on the dirty pavement. “Gonna need that. Doc Thompkins’ll need to know what got me.”

Fetcher bobbed his head in a nod and scooped the knife up, being careful of the blade before shifting it into his suit like he had all those others.

“How many knives you even got in there?” Jason asked, trying to distract himself from the numbing sensation crawling further through his chest. His lungs were starting to stutter.

Fetcher held his free hand up in a gesture reminiscent of a shrug that didn’t move his occupied shoulder. So he didn’t know. That wasn’t concerning at all. The little glow-worm got them to the mouth of the alley before motioning to the street before them. Asking for directions.

Jason jabbed the thumb he could still move towards the left. Man he hoped Leslie would help him.

It was only after Leslie reluctantly let him go and he exited the clinic that he noticed Fetcher had disappeared again.

═════ ◈ ═════

Twice was a coincidence, three times was a pattern.

This time it was in the rain, heavy downpour obscuring everything in sight and the occasional flash of lightning spearing the dark in a thunderous roar.

Bruce had caught him on one of his runs.

They were on the edge of the roof, his boots slipping just the slightest against the slick concrete that bordered the ten story drop as Batman gripped the shirt that covered his chest armor in his fists, holding him up and being the only thing between him and the pavement below. One hand of Jason’s scrabbled against the slick armor on Batman’s arm and the other held a gun against the man’s head.

Red Hood laughed, bordering hysterical, the sound crackling and grating through the filter on his helmet. “Let me go, Batman,” he demanded, gun digging against the mask over Bruce’s temple.

“Who are you?” Batman growled, agony underpinning his words and it flooded Jason with a righteous glee that made him ache. Oh, Brucie, Brucie, Brucie he thought. You’re so close to figuring it out but you’re still not sure.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said, trying not to cackle. The sweet, sweet fury painting his father’s ex-mentor’s face was delicious. He might not be ready to lead Batman to his pièce de résistance but he could still enjoy teasing in the meantime.

“Tell me,” Batman demanded, shaking Red Hood within his grasp, making Jason’s boots slide ever further toward the edge.

“Or what,” he snarled, “you’ll kill me?”

He nudged his gun to an angle beside Batman’s head and shot, the bullet flying into the air but the blast and the noise pushing Bruce away and startling his grip loose. Jason used the momentum to push up and arch in the air, feeling the rain and the wind against him as he flew. He flipped and felt the beautiful, intoxicating rush that came with free falling. Distantly he could hear Batman yelling, but all he wanted to concentrate on was feeling the pull of gravity before he landed.

He pulled out his grapple and aimed. It slipped and he cursed. The building was too short to sustain his fall for long and he didn’t have time for another grapple to hook and swing. He was meeting the pavement fast. Too fast. He wasn’t usually this sloppy. His landing would be messy and painful, but if he moved right, he’d live.

Cold hands caught him a single story from the ground and slowly lowered him down until his boots hit sidewalk. The glow around them told him he knew who his savior was.

When he was released he turned. The hands that had caught him were gone, and so was the rest of Fetcher. He tsked in annoyance. He’d need to hunt the kid down at this rate.

He looked up to see if Batman was still there. But if he was, he couldn’t see anything through the rain.

═════ ◈ ═════

Of course he was living in a graveyard. Because why not, right?

It was one of the last places Jason tried searching. Ever since Fetcher had risked Batman’s wrath again by catching him a few days ago, he’d doubled his determination to find him. He shouldn’t let himself get so distracted from his main goal, but keeping Fetcher within his sights and making sure the kid was safe was now part his master plan, apparently.

He could see a faint glow up in the branches of the single hickory tree planted in the cemetery Fetcher had originally been chased from. The one Jason was buried in. He tried not to have any particular feelings about that. He watched as the green shell of a hickory nut fell from the branches and bounced on the ground. Well, at least the kid was eating.

“Hey,” he called, watching the branches shake when Fetcher startled. “Get your radioactive ass down here.”

He backed up and watched in fascination as the other man swung down from a branch like a monkey before he dropped like a stone. If the forty foot drop did anything to his ankles when he landed directly on his feet, he didn’t let it show. What the fuck was this guy?

Fetcher walked closer, posture cautious but casual. Like there was at least some modicum of trust but he still knew to be wary. He tilted his head to the side, a question.

“How many crimes have you interfered with on my turf?” he asked, crossing his arms. He was genuinely curious though. He’d gotten reports from his lieutenants that mister nightlight had been spotted multiple times preventing a mugging or defending a Corner Girl. A little vigilante in the making, all he needed was the blue eyes and black hair and he’d be perfect Wayne Bait.

Fetcher scuffed his shoe against the grass and hid his hands behind his back before shrugging, trying to act innocent. Little shit.

“Listen,” he said, “if you’re gonna play vigilante here, it’s gonna be on my orders.”

Fetcher raised his head and tilted it to the side again. Another question. He sighed.

He walked closer, steps slow and careful so Fetch wouldn’t disappear on him. He didn’t want to spook the guy. “No more living in trees and popping in and out of nowhere,” he said firmly, close enough to see his curious glowing green eyes. “If you’re gonna work in my territory, then you’re gonna be on my payroll.”

The green glow narrowed and Fetcher crossed his arms. Defiant. Defensive.

Jason scoffed. “If you mess with things you don’t know about you’re going to get hurt. Or get someone else hurt.”

The arms dropped but stayed crossed, his head tilted to the side. Accepting but still questioning.

“I’m not going to stop you from saving people,” he said, “since that seems to be something you want to do.”

“But,” he lifted a finger, “you gotta listen to me. And you’re going to live in an actual goddamn house, you heathen. And eat actual food. I don’t care if you’re not human, no man under my protection is living like a monkey unless they are one.”

He paused. “You aren’t some type of monkey, are you?”

Fetcher seemed to double over. Shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Probably a no then. But, yeah, sure, laugh at him for not knowing what the fuck a Fetch was and trying not to make any assumptions.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled as the other seemed to finally gather himself together. “You coming or not? I’m setting you up in a safe-house and then putting a fucking bell on you so I know where you are.”

He wiped a tear that wasn’t actually there from his tinted mask and mimed catching his breath before nodding and gesturing for Jason to lead the way. Then he paused and tilted his head. He lifted his arms and made a little paw motion beside his head and moved his head back and forth. Jason could almost see green ears and tail appear.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Fetcher leaned forward, arms out in some sort of questioning shrug. Why not? he seemed to say, with some mocking edge. Little shit knew what he was doing.

God, Jason really hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

#naps fics #dp x dc #Our Empty Graves #dpxdc

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