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thequeenxofhearts · 4 years

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Finally (Jason Todd x Reader)

After the Reader is dumped by her boyfriend, Jason comforts her, he finally admits his feelings for her. SMUT - Rated T

This is my first SMUT, let me know what you think! :D

April 8th, 2020

For the last few weeks, Bruce had been planning a party for Alfred’s Birthday. It wasn’t going to be a surprise, nothing got by Alfred anymore. He wasn’t surprised when Bruce asked Selina to marry him, he wasn’t surprised when Dick left Kori to be with Barbara, and then proposed to her, and he wasn’t surprised when Tim and Stephanie announced they had been dating for weeks before they decided to tell anyone. It didn’t surprise him, because he knew.

He knew Bruce had been up to something in the early days of the party planning, and but Bruce knew that Alfred couldn’t be surprised anymore, so they had been discussing plans for the party. Alfred didn’t want a big party; he was starting to have trouble remembering names of some people he hadn’t seen in a few years and told Bruce that he didn’t want to embarrass himself. No, he was more than happy to just be around his loved ones; Bruce had arranged for Julia to come over from England and he’d prepared one of the many spare rooms for her.

Dick and Barbara were coming over, Jason, Stephanie, Harper, Kate, Y/N, Luke and Lucius Fox and Duke Thomas were all coming over as well. Bruce had Tim, Damian and Cassandra cleaning the house all day whilst he and Selina prepared the food and they let Alfred have the day to himself.

5PM, and Bruce had everyone getting dressed; he wore his usual suit and tie and Selina went with her black dress and silver necklace. Tim and Damian both wore a suit and tie, Tim making sure to apply extra cologne, which Damian complained about. And Cassandra wore a black dress, like Selina’s; they had been shopping the week before and Selina helped her pick out a dress.

Just after 6PM, the car Bruce had sent to pick Julia up from the airport had arrived. She was delighted to see her father and wished him ‘Happy Birthday’ before she Selina led her to the bedroom she’d be staying in, so she could get washed and dressed for the evening. Just after Julia had arrived, Dick and Barbara arrived, followed by Jason.

“Barbara, let me see the ring again.” Selina said when Dick hung up their coats. Dick and Barbara’s engagement may not have surprised Alfred, but the huge ring he’s bought her surely did; it was an 9 carat rose gold ring with a solitaire diamond, it was gorgeous and Selina and the other girls all admired it.

Jason hug up his coat and looked eagerly around the living room. “Alright, Jason?” Bruce asked, placing a hand on his shoulder and put a glass of whisky in his hand and gave him a warm smile. Jason nodded and took the glass. “She’s not here yet.” Bruce said, lowering his voice, Jason’s eyes widened, and he looked at Bruce, “Who are you talking about?” Jason asked, quickly.

“Y/N.” Bruce smirked. “Why would I be looking for her?” Jason asked, “She’s got a boyfriend.” He said, bitterness thick in his voice. “Because you like her.” Bruce said. “I do not.” Jason scoffed; Bruce smiled. “Why wouldn’t you like her?” Bruce asked, “She’s gorgeous and she has a great personality.” He said.

“And she had a boyfriend.” Jason said firmly, “Let it go, Bruce. I don’t like her that.”

“Hey there, little brother.” Dick smiled as he patted Jason on the back and taking a swig of his drink. “Dick.” Jason muttered, Dick laughed, Barbara came up behind Dick and put a hand on his shoulder, she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Dick smiled.

Jason mentally scoffed at the two of them, it had been years since he’d been in a relationship and he was glad he’d gotten out of it. A few weeks after the breakup, he met Y/N. He met her in a book shop where she was looking for a crime novel, Jason thought it was fate as he was also there looking for a crime novel and he fell in love with her instantly. He was expecting a boyfriend when she told him she was there to pick someone up, he couldn’t believe his luck when Barbara appeared and announced to Jason that Y/N was her and Stephanie’s new roommate.

Dick and Barbara got back together not long after and Jason planned on asking Y/N on a date, but he feared rejection.

One night on patrol, he forgot he left his comm on and muttered to himself about asking you on a date, Dick was listening in on Jason and intended on teasing Jason about it. But Dick later learned from Barbara that Y/N had been seeing someone who worked in the Iceberg Lounge. And Jason had finally built up the courage to ask you on a date when Dick broke the news to him; Jason was utterly devastated.

He scolded himself for not asking you out sooner, and he only hoped that your boyfriend was treating you the way he would treat you.

Less than 2 years later, he’s still hung up on you and has never felt the same way about any other woman.

They sat down for a drink, and Alfred came in with his arm around Julia. Kate had arrived with Luke and Lucius, and then Duke arrived. Bruce and Selina were making their way around the guests, offering drinks while Alfred spoke to everyone. Jason noticed that Tim was becoming impatient waiting for Stephanie, and he mocked him.

Finally, they arrived, Tim ran to the foyer and greeted Stephanie. Jason stayed in the living room and waited for you to come in. Harper stepped in followed by Tim and Stephanie, arms wrapped around each other. But you didn’t follow, he thought maybe you were hanging up your coat, or you’d gone to the bathroom. But a few minutes later, you still hadn’t arrived.

“Where’s Y/N?” Jason asked, Barbara looked around, “I don’t know, Jay.” She said. “Maybe she’s running late?” Dick suggested. “No.” Jason muttered. “No, it’s not like her to be late for anything.” Barbara said, she climbed off the couch and went over to Stephanie, who was wrapped in Tim’s arms, both drinking champagnes.

She came back a few minutes later, looking unhappy. “What’s the matter?” Jason asked, quickly standing to his feet. “Steph said Y/N is at home; Jamie broke up with her.” Barbara said heavily. “What?” Jason asked. “Stephanie said Y/N found out Jamie was cheating on her, and then he dumped her.” Barbara said. “Tell Bruce and Alfred I’m sorry.” Jason said, before he ran out of the living room, grabbed his jacket and ran out of the house.

Dick and Barbara noticed the talking quietened down when the sound of Jason’s motorcycle revving was heard outside, and Bruce eyed Dick and Barbara.

Jason pulled up outside your apartment building, he trudged up the stairs in his tight-fitting suit trouser which he sworn he’d never wear again, but he did promise Bruce he’d try for Alfred.

He got up to your apartment and he knocked on the door, “Y/N.” He said, and knocked again, “It’s me, it’s Jason. Open up.” He knocked on the door again and heard movement on the other side. The handle turned and the door slowly opened. Jason saw you; you leant against the door frame, tears streaming down your face and your hair messy. “What do you want?” You asked. “I heard about Jamie.” He said sympathetically, you looked at the floor and sighed. “I’m sorry Y/N, he’s a scumbag and he didn’t deserve you.” Jason said.

You pushed the door open and turned back to your apartment, Jason followed you in and closed the door behind him. You slumped onto the couch and brought you knees up to your chest. Jason sat next to you.

“So, what happened?” He asked. “Why do you want to know?” You asked, leaning to the coffee table and pick up a glass of whisky and drained it. “Because you’re here on your own, and you obviously need someone to talk to.” Jason said. You sighed and put the glass back on the coffee table and leant back on the couch.

You cleared your throat, “You know I met him at the Iceberg lounge?” Jason nodded. “Do you know how many women go there every night?” You asked, Jason sighed, “I guess a lot.” You chuckled. “Yes, a lot, but not all of them are single.”

“I had my suspicions about him, he didn’t return many of my calls and he barely text me.” You said. “Do you remember when we met at the bookshop, and there was that girl who kept dropping all the books?” You asked, Jason nodded, “Yeah.” He said. “That’s Emma, she started working there the day before we met. She went out to the Iceberg Lounge with her boyfriend the other day. Jamie was working at the bar and a couple of girls were flirting with him. She thought it was strange, but she thought perhaps it happened to all the bartenders.” You wiped your eyes noticed Jason was listening intently.

“She kept her eye on him and she saw him get in a taxi with one of the girls. She took a picture of him and sent it me. I called him the next day, he answered, and I asked him to meet me at the coffee house. I asked him if he was cheating on me, and I showed him the picture Emma sent me. He told me that it was just one night and didn’t mean anything, I didn’t believe him, and I asked him if it was only that one time, and he said no.”

Tears fell from your eyes and you heard Jason sigh as he put an arm around you shoulder. “He told me he was planning on breaking up with me anyway, so it didn’t matter.” You cried, Jason pulled you close to his chest and stroked your hair. “It’s ok.” He whispered, “He didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“I gave him nearly 2 years of my life, and for what?” You asked, “How long was he cheating on me? Was everything he ever said to me a lie?”

Jason held you tighter, “Why are you here on your own anyway?” He asked, you sniffed, “The girls wanted to stay but I told them I’d be fine on my own. Why are you here?”

“You can’t be on your own right now.” He said. “I know that.” You said, “You said that when you came here, but why you?” You asked. Jason looked deep into your eyes, he’d spent many hours imagining having you in his arms, and here he was right now, holding you.

“Jason?” You asked. “Yes.” He asked dreamily. “Why did you come here?” You asked, he didn’t say anything, instead he slowly leant in and captured your lips with his. Surprised, you remained still until his lips moved against yours and you melted into his kiss. You could taste whisky on his breath, but he was so gentle; and then he pulled away.

“Was that why?” You asked, Jason nodded, “Yes.” He said, leaning back in to kiss you again, but you turned away. “I’m sorry.” He muttered. “How long, Jason?” You asked, he sighed, “Remember the day we met in the bookshop?” He asked, your eyes widened, “That long ago?” You asked, he nodded.

“How come you never told me?” You asked. “I wanted to, for so long. But when I finally built up the courage to ask you, Dick told me you were seeing someone.” Jason said, he stared at the blank TV screen, you sighed. “Well then, I guess this works out for us both then.” You said, Jason looked up at you, “Huh?”

“I-when I first me you, I liked you.” You admitted, “But, Barbara, Stephanie and I went to the Iceberg Lounge and Stephanie convinced me to talk to Jamie, she said he kept looking at me. After spoke for a while, he gave me his number. I met him at the coffee house and that was pretty much it.” You said.

Jason pressed his lips to your forehead, “How did you feel about him?” He asked, you shrugged, “I don’t know. It felt weird being with him at first, but I got used to it.” You said. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.” Jason said. “Did you really like being with him?” He asked.

“I guess, it was just nice to have someone around.” You said, “How did you feel when he kissed you?” Jason asked, you looked up at him and narrowed your eyes, but honestly, how did you feel? Thinking about it, you felt nothing when Jamie kissed you. When you slept together you didn’t enjoy it the way you should have.

“I didn’t feel anything.” You muttered. “Did you feel anything when you kissed me?” Jason asked, you looked up at him and smiled gently. “I don’t know.” You said, your eyes glancing to his lips before looking back to his eyes, before either of you could say anything, you leant forward and kissed Jason.

Jason kissed back, as you’d hoped he would. His lips were soft, and you could still taste the whisky on him. You felt his tongue brush against your lips, you moaned as it slid into your mouth and collided with your own. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he pulled you close to him. He lifted you off the couch and onto his lap. “Jay.” You mumbled. “Hmm.” He groaned, pulling his lip away from yours only to trace kisses along your cheeks. “Nothing.” You smiled, and lowered your head onto Jason’s shoulder, and he chuckled, “Alright then.”

You pushed his blazer off and started to undo his tie, Jason began kissing your neck and trailed kissed down to your shoulder and began nipping at the skin there, making you groan. Jason’s hands went under your t-shirt and he began to lift it up, but you stopped him. “What?” He asked. “I’m not wearing a bra.” You said, your cheeks turning red. Jason smirked, “One less thing I have to take off.” You blushed heavily and giggled at his comment; you let him lift your t-shirt off and he stared at your breasts with a grin spreading across his face.

His warm hands cupped them both as he continued nipping at your shoulder and working his way up to your lips. You began to unbutton his shirt and pulled it off him, and you stared at some of the scars scattered on his body, but you could hardly concentrate as his hands began squeezing your breasts firmly, and he pulled you closer to him and took one of your nipples into his mouth your head fell back and you groaned loudly.

He began to stand up, you went to climb off him so he could stand, but he wouldn’t let you go. He finally got to his feet and stepped away from the couch, “Which bedroom is yours?” He asked against your lips. “On the left.” You groaned.

Jason carried you and pushed open the bedroom door and kicked it shut behind him. He laid you down on the bed and hovered over you. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this.” He smiled, you chuckled and reached your hands up to his neck and you pulled him down to you.

You felt his erection press against your stomach, and you groaned again. His hand slid down your stomach and slid under the waist band of your sweatpants. You gasped when you felt his hand slide under the fabric of your underwear and his fingers brushed against your wetness.

He pecked at your neck as you panted under him and he slowly inserted one finger. He lifted his head up from your neck and he watched you. “What?” You asked, then gasped as you felt him push another finger in, Jason chuckled, “You’re so beautiful.” He smiled, you giggled, “Shut up.” You gasped as his fingers moved quickly.

“Y/N.” Jason groaned. “Hmm…” You muttered. “Did Jamie ever do this to you?” He asked, his voice was thick, and you sensed bitterness in his voice as he mentioned Jamie. You shook your head, and you winced when Jason thrust his fingers in further and faster. “I said, did Jamie ever do this to you?” He asked again.

“No!” You shouted, “He didn’t.” Jason chuckled in your ear, “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He growled and he continued with his thrusts. You unbuckled his belt and the button on his pants and reached into his boxers and grabbed his erection, making Jason gasp. You giggled at his reaction, and you began to jerk him off.

Jason growled in your ear, “Y/N…don’t stop.”

“You like that?” You asked, sensing your orgasm. “I like that a lot.” He groaned, lowering his head to take a nipple into your mouth and bit gently onto it, and that threw you over the edge. Your head flung back, and you came all over his fingers as Jason sucked on your nipple.

Jason pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips and licked his fingers clean of you. You continued jerking him until he was leaking precum. He pulled your sweatpants and underwear down and removed your hands from his hardness. Then he pulled his own pants and boxers down, leaving him in just his socks which he didn’t bother to remove.

He hovered over you, teasing your entrance with his penis, “Go on.” You smiled, he smiled down at you and brought his lips down to yours and you felt him push gently into you. You hissed, but reassured Jason to keep going. Once he was in fully and you were adjusted to him, he began to pull out and push back in, slowly.

“Jason.” You gasped, “Jay.”

“Y/N.” He groaned into your neck. “Did it ever feel this good with Jamie?” He asked. “No!” You groaned. “He didn’t feel this good, huh?” Jason asked. “No, he didn’t.” You groaned. “That’s good.” He growled, picking up the pace and you panted under him. “God you look so beautiful.” He smiled, your fingers tangled themselves in his hair and tugged on his dark locks.

Jason groaned and began moving faster and faster, you felt yourself begin to unfold, and at the sound of your moans and groans, Jason was also close.

“Jay.” You gasped, “I-I’m so-”

“Uh-hu, me too.” He groaned, kissing your jawline. “Jay, I’m going to-” You were cut off by Jason’s growl in your ear, “Me too, Y/N. Together?” He asked. You nodded, “Ok.” You smiled. Jason’s lips captured yours and he continued his thrusts until you both came together.

Jason’s head fell onto your shoulder as you creamed him, and he came into you. “Y/N.” He moaned, “Y/N.” He moaned again, “I like saying your name, Y/N.”

“I like hearing it, Jason.” You smiled when he stopped moving and he started to pull out of you. “No!” You exclaimed, “Stay there for bit.” You said, you blushed but you didn’t want to not feel him yet. “Ok.” He said, settling himself back down and laying his head on your chest, and listened to your heart beating.

You brushed your fingers through his thick hair and kissed his forehead. “Jason” You said. “Yeah?” He asked. “Do the others know you came here?” You asked, Jason looked up at you. “I don’t know.” He said. “When Barbara told me that Jamie broke up with you, I came straight here. My guess is Dick and Barbara know, maybe Bruce too.” He muttered. “Your skin is so soft.” He said, brushing his hands up and down your arms and he pressed his lips to your shoulder.

“Jason, we should probably get dressed.” You said. “No. Let’s stay here.” Jason groaned. “Jason, we should go to Alfred’s party.” You said, Jason groaned, “Fine.” He said, gently pulling out of you and he climbed off. He picked up his clothes and began to get dressed, then he went out to the living room to let you get cleaned and dressed.

When you were dressed, you stepped into the living room and Jason’s jaw dropped when he saw you. “Oh, my god.” He gasped, “You look beautiful.”

You admired the dress you had picked out, it was a choice between a sparkly blue cocktail dress, which to be fair you were going to throw away after Jamie had dumped you, it was him who’d picked it out, you always thought it showed too much cleavage.

So, you went with a dress your father had picked out for you when he planned your mother’s 50th Birthday party. It was a knee length black dress and sparkled subtly. It was deep cut at the back but didn’t show you off too much.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you pulled on your black dress coat.. “Come on, let’s go.” You grabbed your keys from the bowl Stephanie had put on the shelf next to the door and had decorated it with glitter, so it read KEY BOWL in wonky writing.

When you got outside, you were about to hail a cab, but Jason grabbed your arm and motioned to his motorbike. “No, Jay I can ride on that.” You said. “You’ll be fine, I promise.” He said, he climbed onto his bike and you reluctantly climbed onto the back. “Just hold on tight, we’ll be there in no time.” He said softly.

“Ok.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his shoulder, he started the bike and before you knew it you and Jason were speeding through the city, back to Wayne Manor.

#jason todd x reader #red hood #smut #jason todd #batfam #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #dc comics #reader insert #batfamily

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herecomesnaya · 3 years

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Oh here I am, I think I'll take a bottle of: Roman’s abusive tactics have worn down Jason 2020, if you don't mind, thank you very much 🤲

yes indeedy! let’s see what I got here...

so, in the beginning, Jason was a lot different than he is now in terms of attitude. snarkier. more willing to fight back. his internal monologue less doubtful and uncertain of himself. able to spit Roman’s cum into his wine glass and walk away without a second thought. says no out loud more often, implies Roman is the crazy one.

but then, slowly, it changes around. it’s (I hope) subtle at first. Roman’s first tactic to start breaking Jason down isn’t to tear him down, but to build him up. he calls him a good boy. praises him for taking it so well. shows the barest modicum of care at some points, which feels like a hell of a lot to Jason, considering 1) it’s Black Mask and 2) Jason doesn’t ever particularly feel like he’s worthy of praise, so it leaves more of an impact when it happens.

starting in chapter 4, Roman begins to change Jason’s line of thinking from what he wants to what Roman wants. it starts off most evidently during sex, so Jason doesn’t realize what’s happening, just thinks of it in the context of it being a play scene. but the reason Roman broke him down until Jason told him to do whatever he wanted to him is because he was trying to prime Jason to carry that belief with him outside of the bedroom.

by chapter 5, he’s managed to convince Jason slowly over the course of the fic that what Roman wants, though, is actually what Jason wants. Jason may not entirely believe it yet, but Roman consistently reinforces this narrative:

“I-I— I'm sorry, okay?” he says, hoping that'll be the end of it. “I was wrong. You were right. Could you stop being weird now?”

“Oh, but I'm only giving you what you want,” Roman says, his voice like silk over ice. “Let's try things your way. What do you say, boys? Hm? Should we give Red Hood's methods a chance?”

the purpose is to make Jason doubt himself. to gaslight him into thinking that he practically asked to be treated like shit. because he comes when they have sex, and Roman treats him like shit while they fuck, so clearly that means Jason’s desires = being treated like shit, right?

chapter 6 is probably Jason’s last big defiant action before he gets, well, not completely complacent, but pretty damn close. fucking Chain is something he’d never have done at the beginning of the fic, but by this point, his psyche has already been re-shaped a bit by Roman’s tactics. sex is at the forefront of his mind where it wouldn’t have been before. sex is a tactic to get what you want from someone: he learned that from Roman.

by the end of the chapter, he’s gone through subspace (not for the first time in the fic, but more on that in my subspace meta), and while he’s still in that state, Roman does one of his little tactics to get Jason to trust him more: he takes off his mask while they’re in bed together, although he doesn’t let Jason see.

in chapter 7, we get more of Roman undermining Jason’s intelligence:

“Oh, Red,” Roman says with a shake of his head. “Still tragically incompetent with words, as always. You're lucky I know you well enough to realize you've got more going in there than you let on.” He accompanies this with a tap to his temple, and Jason at least has the good sense to feel offended.

he constantly reinforces the narrative that Jason has more brawns than brain, and needs someone like Roman to get him to “think clearly.” this is meant to make Jason doubt himself, wonder if he’s really thinking straight when Roman isn’t in his head.

in chapter 7, Jason also asks for one of the things he’s consistently been denied: boundaries. and Roman’s response?

“I admit I was a bit overzealous. I apologize,” Roman says, not sounding very contrite. “But that's exactly what I'm talking about. You need to trust that whatever I do to you, it'll work out in your favor. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Roman asks for obedience, not thought. trust, not mutual understanding. it’s about what he wants, and Jason, more and more, is starting to go along with it.

and what happens when Jason trusts Roman? well, he gets one of the best fucks of his life...

but also, a bunch of people die. whoops?

Jason’s guilt over this incident is so strong, and Dick comes into the story at exactly the perfect time to exacerbate that. in chapter 8, here’s where things really take a turn for the worse.

Jason is put in a position where he has to justify his attraction to Roman, and defend himself against actions that he feels personally responsible for. and what happens when he does that? it reinforces the until now unspoken belief that he really does want Roman to do whatever he wants to him.

because now there’s another party involved. now Dick knows he didn’t fight back like he “could” have, like he “should” have. now Jason, in his mind, has outside confirmation that he’s a willing party in this, and even goes so far as to wish he’s being raped to avoid having any culpability in it.

(the irony here being that Jason is being raped, because Roman consistently pushes past his boundaries when he says a clear “no.” he just doesn’t realize that it still counts as rape even if you come. he’d realize this if it were someone else in his position, but because it’s him, because he’s Jason Todd, because he’s stupid, because he doesn’t know how to admit what he wants, it can’t be rape. it can’t be. right?)

so he ends up leaving the confrontation with Dick feeling more isolated from his family, his only possible support system. feeling on edge, terrified that Dick will tell Bruce, and that he’ll be ousted from the family again, the black sheep that no one likes.

it’s this guilt and doubt and pain and terror that brings him into Roman’s arms, where he does arguably the most extreme session of the fic to that point. and that’s exactly where Roman wants him.

the next day, Roman really ramps things up. he sets up a fake situation where it appears that he’s been worriedly tending to Jason’s wounds all night. author’s note: he hasn’t. he’s full of fucking shit.

this line right here?

“I knew it,” he says a moment later, shoulders sagging under the tailored sleeves of his suit. “I knew you'd wake up as soon as I left.”

this is a little writer’s trick we in the biz like to call “a lie.” Roman can say that line literally whenever he comes into Jason’s room, and it’s like, oops, he only just stepped out for a minute! teehee! when in reality, he’s left Jason alone the entire night. Jason never receives proper aftercare, this is intentional.

but it still works. Roman manages to convince Jason, in his despair, to part with the knowledge that he used to be Robin. Jason is so alone at this point, he just wants someone to know that he’s in pain. and Roman has gotten him into subspace and “taken away the pain” often enough that Jason relies on him for it now. it’s like a drug to him.

and then comes the present. a simple gesture, and an easy one when you’re as rich as Roman Sionis. just a couple books. but to Jason, they mean so much more. they’re a “confirmation” that Roman listened to him speak about more than just business and sex. a “confirmation” that he does care, at least a little bit.

spoilers: he doesn’t. he doesn’t at all. it’s just a cheap way to endear Jason to him further, and Jason is in such an emotionally wrecked state that it actually works.

and then what does Roman do right when Jason has that realization?

he buys a bunch of hookers and spends all night paying attention to one.

give Jason attention, take it away. make him jealous. make it so that Jason is the one who wants Roman’s attention, not the other way around. and it works.

and when Jason gets upset and expresses that to Roman, his feelings are again downplayed and minimized.

“...I already told you what this means. Did you see a collar on her?”

It takes a second for Jason to realize Roman’s let up on his throat enough for him to speak. When he does, it’s hesitant and raspy.

“...No.” Roman lifts him by the neck, smacks his head pointedly back against the concrete. Jason corrects himself. “No, sir.”

Again, his airway gets cut off. “That’s right. Just because I’ve got some bimbo hanging off my arm doesn’t mean I give a damn about her one way or the other. This was supposed to boost morale, after everything that’s happened.”

Jason winces. He wonders if “everything” means his illness, or if it stretches all the way back to the former lieutenants now headless and chained to the bottom of Gotham Harbor. Either way, it’s his fault. That much is clear.

so now, once again, Jason feels responsible for his own anguish, even when it’s Roman’s fault, specifically building him up and tearing him down again. gaslighting him more to make him feel crazy. like he can’t trust his own emotions. like he needs Roman to make sense of them for him.

so Jason gets drunk to deal with the pain. and Roman eventually relents and gives him the attention he wants.

how does Jason respond?

a drunken love confession. Jason is now so broken down that he mistakes Roman’s token affection for love. he wants it to be love. he needs it to be, because that would make everything make sense. the way he feels. the way Roman is acting. everything.

and then, once Jason confesses, we get another sharp slap to the face by Roman: his “punishment” for being driven to drink, being cuckolded by Ms. Li. Roman knows at this point that Jason loves him. he’s using that against him by forcing Jason to watch him with someone else.

but he also throws him a bone: the knowledge that there’s a shipment coming in. he knows Jason wants to know about it. knows why he’s there. he needs to keep Jason tethered to him, keep him feeling like he’s getting what he wants when he’s actually doing exactly what Roman wants.

we can also see Roman continuing to subtly tear down Jason’s confidence in himself:

“Son, please,” Roman sighs, lifting a hand to cut him off. “Quite the contrary. It wasn’t an accident that I let you overhear that last night. That was your reward for complying so well, if anything.”

Immediately, Jason feels like his outburst was overblown. He shrinks back into his seat, looking down at the scraps of food on his plate.

Jason isn’t allowed to question Roman. if he does, it’s only because he’s an overdramatic brat. his feelings are constantly minimized, replaced by whatever feelings Roman deems it appropriate for him to have.

and then we get to the most recent chapter, with Roman manipulating Jason into having a conversation with Batman. Jason is given a week to prepare what he wants to say. and what does Roman do?

he doesn’t give Jason a second alone to think. constantly on him, fucking him, hurting him, giving him pleasure, distracting him. he doesn’t want Jason to be prepared. he wants him to be caught off-guard and thinking only of what Roman wants. then, only then, will he be the perfect little soldier to stand in front of Batman and pledge his allegience to Black Mask properly.

and that’s where we left off! there’s going to be even more delicious, horrible manipulation in the newest chapter, so I hope you guys are excited! can’t wait to publish it!

#ask #fic chatter #Blurry #daddy tag #tw rape #tw abuse #elidebrey

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themandylion · 4 years

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Chapters: 2/5 Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Joker (DCU) Additional Tags: Halloween (Gotham-Style), Vampires, Zombies, weres, Ghosts, Cryptids, But the Joker was the real monster all along, Family Bonding, Betfamily Feels, Magical Shenanigans, Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, jaytimspooktober, JayTim Spooktober 2020 Series: Part 2 of Jaytim Week Special Event Stories Summary:

Sighing, Tim rubs his face. Holidays in Gotham are terrible. Especially Halloween. This is only the first Saturday in October, so they should’ve had at least a few more weeks of relative peace. “I know we can never have a normal Halloween, not in this city, but does the crazy really have to start earlier and earlier every year?”

“Yep,” a deep voice says from right behind him. “Because Gotham’s an actual goddamn hellmouth.”

Tim’s pretty sure he manages not to jump. A loud snort followed by a low chuckle raises a flicker of doubt about that conclusion. Whatever. It’s like three in the morning, the Joker’s loose in Gotham, and there is an actual freaking vampire cleaning the bric-a-brac in the parlor right now—he’s allowed to be a little jumpy.

Stupid Jason. * For the tumblr Jaytim Week Spooktober 2020 prompts.

October 3–4: Vampires; October 10–11: Zombies/Cryptids; October 17–18: Weres; October 24–25: Ghosts; October 31: Anything Supernatural Goes

Enjoy!

#JayTim #fic rec #njw #jaytimspooktober #zombies

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heartless-error · 4 years

Text

Love-Struck

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairing: Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating/Tags: JayTim Week 2020 - Day 1: College AU, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Secret Crushes

Other(s) links: AO3

"Okay." Jason sighed, gathering strength to himself. "You remember… That guy?"

"That guy?" Roy asked back.

"Yes."

"The one you have a crush on and look at him from afar, but you deny it and never take the first step because you’re a dramatic bitch?"

"Yeah."

"What? You have finally talked to him?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I hit him with the bike."

Roy was silent, looking at him and blinking a few times at the news. But he didn't have to say anything, Jason knew he was totally fucked.

OR:

Based on the prompt "I was distracted looking at my crush and accidentally hit him."

Love-Struck

It happened on a Tuesday, during the break.

Tim met Conner and Bart outside his classes to head to one of the coffee shops near the campus, between his mathematical analysis class and his computing class, because he wouldn’t be able to survive that day without a third coffee and in addition his friends would be nearby to make sure he didn’t fall in the temptation to drink a fourth.

Everything was going well, Bart received him with an effusive hug and Kon patted his back like always. All started walking towards their destination while talking about their classes, how close they were to the finals, Kon’s new game, where they could go to celebrate when they finish the semester, generally normal things that made Tim forget about how he had slept an hour and half, still had four assignments to do, and his parents were waiting for his presence at tonight’s dinner after they returned from their business trip to Dubai.

Maybe it was because of that hour and half of sleep, or because the little conversation of his two best friends about how Conner was a coward who couldn’t ask Cassie out caused him a slight smile, a warm emotion, and distracted him from his problems and everything around him. But when he crossed the street to the cafe, happy and absent, he didn’t have time to react to anything.

“Watch out!”

“Tim!”

Something hit him and before he knew what, fell unconscious.

~0.0~

“He's alive!”

That was the first thing he heard when he started waking up.

Tim found himself confused as he regained consciousness, his whole body hurt, a lot, but at the same time he was somewhat sleepy. He realized he was lying on a bed that smelled of antiseptic and medicine, around him he could hear bustle and people talking next to him, couldn’t feel his leg either.

“Of course he's alive, calm down.”

That was Kon's voice. And previously was Bart's. If he remembered well, he was with them on campus, just heading to one of his favorite coffee shops before something hit him on the side and everything went dark. If he had to guess, he would say that he hadn’t passed out from the lack of caffeine but had been run over.

Tim growled annoyed, opening his eyes heavily and blinking because of the whitish light of the hospital room.

When he was finally able to focus and wake up properly, the sight that received him was his plastered leg held high and his friends hovering over him with a worried gaze.

“Tim!” Exclaimed Bart, who seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“What's up buddy? How did you sleep?” Conner asked with a relieved smile.

When he tried to answer, he realized how dry his throat was, as well as how overwhelmed he was because of the medications and sedatives that would have been administered to him when had been treated. His friends, realizing this, soon helped him to lean him over and give him the bottle of water that was on the next table.

“What happened?” He ended up asking after recovered himself.

“You got hit by a motorcycle.” Conner answered bluntly. “And you scared us, man.”

“Yes! I almost have a heart attack!” Bart exclaimed. He could tell he was holding himself back to not hug him until crush him because he was benched. “We were talking and suddenly you were flying!”

“Really?” He asked, surprised.

It wouldn't be strange if the hit had thrown him a few meters away, but he felt the most serious wound he had, was that broken leg, so he didn't think he would have fly for real.

“No.” Conner denied instantly.

Yeah, he thought so. What a disappointment.

But now that he was more awake, he remembered certain things clearly.

“I think I remember listening to the ambulance.” He frowned, trying to remember well.

“No, that was Bart screaming.”

“It scared me! Okay?” The redhead excused himself immediately.

“We could hear you better than the sirens.” His other friend started teasing.

Tim couldn’t help to smile amused at this, fondly too. Bart used to be loud in general, but him being so concerned about him was very touching. Also, the fact that his two friends had taken care of him, had accompanied him, waited him to wake up and now were there, receiving him, made him remember why he loved and appreciated them so much.

“I thought it was serious!” The redhead excused himself again.

“Obviously not.” Kon replied, still amused. “Tim is stronger than we think.”

“I'm fine, Bart. For real.” He tried to reassure him, he felt it could have been worse anyway. “I'm only a little numb for the medicines, can you call a nurse?”

As much as he appreciated the ride to the hospital, the treatment and all, he wouldn't like to spend the night there. He didn’t consider his condition serious enough to do so, so he would like to be discharged immediately. He also wants to sleep in his bed, those four assignments weren’t going to be done magically and no nurse was going to allow him to drink a decent coffee. So, hearing his diagnosis and going home was all he wanted now.

However, when Kon and Bart exchanged glances, something told him that it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“What?” He asked immediately.

They didn't answer, just looked at each other again with a slight hint of panic. Which was not cool at all, because it made thousands of unpleasant possibilities run through his mind.

And the worst, the worst of them entered the room before he could ask again.

The temperature in the room dropped suddenly to below zero as soon as Janet Drake, as beautiful and noble as ever, entered keeping her formal, elegant, and polite composure characteristic of her as the sound of her heels echoed in the room harshly. Her pristine appearance contrasted with her icy eyes -identical to his son’s- and his aura in itself, so cold, lethal, and furious that she seemed to freeze all those who dared to look at her directly.

Everything was quiet and it seemed like the death itself, ethereal and deadly, had entered the room. And Jack Drake, who warmly greeted his son and his friends after saying goodbye to the nurse they had been talking to.

“Timothy.” His mother said calmly, firm, approaching the bed with safe steps. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

Tim swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to answer, because now he understood and shared the same panic as his friends. Janet looked angry, was she? God, why he hadn't thought it before? Of course they were going to call his parents after being struck by a bike, and of course it wouldn’t be pleasant for them to receive such news while they were unpacking and planning their dinner tonight. She was angry, right?

“Thanks for being with him, guys.” Said his father to his friends.

Conner tried to smile naturally, but it looked like he had just sucked on a lemon. Bart didn't even try; he was as stiff as a board and looking at him like a deer about to be run over.

Sometimes he found fascinating how his mother -yes, only his mother- still had the power to scare them in this way as if they were still the noisy children he met at summer camp and used to visit him. Anyone would think she hated them, seeing the disinterested attitude she always has maintained, he knows they think so too, but after learning the scholarships of both to enter the best programs of the Gotham University were slightly orchestrated by her, he knows it’s not true. Or maybe it was, and she was just doing him a favor by keeping his best friends close to him. He will never know.

Of course, that doesn't take away the fact that his mother seems furious right now and can effortlessly rip someone's arm off just for the pleasure of doing it.

“N-Never mind…” Conner tried to say with that nervous smile. “Anything for Tim.”

“We’re lucky it wasn’t anything serious, was it?” His father said looking at him directly. “The doctor said is just a few bruises and your poor leg, you will recover without problem, son.”

Tim was a little relieved that the diagnosis was so simple, despite already suspecting it, confirming it didn’t hurt. He saw how his father winked at his friends so they wouldn’t be worried, though they hesitated for a second.

“U-Um... We...” Bart tried to say.

“I’m sure you still have classes to attend today.” Janet cut him off. “Don't worry about Timothy, we’ll take care of it.”

All of that, even from her tone, would have sounded kind if her eyes wouldn’t have been piercing them to the depths of their being, as if she were throwing ice daggers into their hearts. He swears he could see Bart flinch.

“Ok, see you later Tim!” Bart said trying to hide his panic and saying goodbye with a nervous smile.

He could have sworn that if Bart could run at super speed, he would have done it to get out of there. Connor, on his part, reached out to him and lifted his hand to ruffle his hair in that loving, gentle way he used to do, but stopped halfway as soon as he felt Janet's murderous aura grow wild and out of control.

“Get well soon.” He said before turning around and run away like a coward.

Well, he couldn’t blame them. He will text them later.

But now he had been left alone, drugged, hurt and with his parents, one trying to be positive and the other willing to kill someone. Who? He doesn't know, but if he survives this, he vows he'll quit caffeine (he won't).

He felt her mother's icy gaze move from his leg to his face, and he had to swallow hard again to try to speak.

“We were going to the cafe and then…” He tried to explain.

“We know what happened.” She cut him off seriously. Of course she knew it, at this point it doesn't surprise him if she knows even the date the bike wheel was created. “Also know who was the responsible. We'll fix it.”

He didn't know how to take that. On one hand, if they didn’t know who had hit him, at this moment they would be tracing all Gotham with all the resources they had to find it out; But on the other, they knew it, and Tim could only feel sorry for whoever that poor soul was, because they had no idea what was going to come after them.

What's more, he was realizing how his father was compulsively sending messages right now, surely to their lawyers, or to public relations, or whoever, but that wasn’t promising anything good.

“I’m fine.” He said looking at his mother, hoping to appease the murderous hunger that was devouring her right now. “Seriously.”

It didn't seem to work, because she didn't move a single muscle and looked at his plastered leg again.

“I don’t see it that way.” She declared in a soft but deadly tone.

He didn’t have the will to refute her. He had never had it when it came to such a situation, after all he had always had a fragile and compromised health, which didn’t help to calm down his parents when he ended in the hospital again.

On the other hand, many people thought that Janet was someone extremely cold and severe to be a mother. Which wasn't exactly true, it’s just... She showed her love in other ways, a little differently. Tim knows when he was born, he was premature, very small, sickly and not the first baby Janet had carried, but the only one who could have born. For this reason, he knows that, although she travels a lot and not many people consider her a model mother, his mother possess an extreme and powerful sense of overprotection embedded in her, and when it’s active threatens to destroy everything and everyone around it. Which was now aimed at the person who hit him, who is going to have to deal with the Drake army of lawyers.

It’s somewhat unfair and exaggerated to waste such an amount of legal power against someone because of a simple accident, unless it’s a good reason, at least that’s what he thinks. He wishes he had said it, but he knows it will be in vain, they are already in it, and he’s also exhausted, the drugs are probably still working. So, before he knew, he was just falling asleep.

As he slipped into the dream world, he really hoped that the person responsible for the accident weren’t someone he knows or cares about, because they could end up hating him.

He also felt his mother gave him a light kiss on the forehead, but that only made him smile.

~0.0~

“I have a problem.”

“Yeah, I’ve figured out.” Roy replied across the table.

He had only raised an eyebrow and put aside his coffee when he saw Jason enter the room and sit in front of him in panic. Well, Roy couldn't do much after being called there so suddenly either.

“A big problem.”

“I felt it when I received your texts.” He said again, more than calm. “Very deep, by the way.”

Jason snorted. Right now, he was going to explode like a popcorn, many things had happened, so it hadn't been in his plans to write a text beyond the “Help, I fucked up” to his best friend.

“Roy, c’mon” He scolded him, agitated. Right now, he could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket for all the texts Bruce was sending him, that didn’t help at all.

“Ok, sorry.” The redhead raised his hands in an attempt to calm things down, then looked at him curiously. “What happened?”

Jason writhed uncomfortably in his chair at that question, it's not like it's the first time he asked that to him if the redhead was so calm at the moment it's because he was used to doing this. He had come to Roy because he’s his best friend, the one he trusted, who wouldn’t judge him, and the only one who has the privilege to know certain personal information, which had importance at the moment. The thing is, he had no idea where to start, there were so many things at once, he wanted to think about how to explain them all because he could see his friend getting impatient as he hesitated.

“Jay.” He said, it's not like Roy was very patient to begin with.

“Wait, I'm thinking.”

“You're a literature student, you're supposed to be good at words.”

He's right, but Jason's eloquence was absent since this morning.

“I don't know where to start, dammit.”

“From the beginning.” The other said, then looked to his phone. “I have to pick up Lian from school in an hour, so hurry up.”

Jason sighed and scratched the back of his neck, deciding to say it all at once. He said to himself he does it because he didn’t want to interfere with the single father duties from his friend and not because he was going to explode.

“Okay.” He sighed again, gathering strength to himself. “You remember… That guy?”

“That guy?” Roy asked back.

“Yes.”

“The one we saw on campus earlier in the semester?"

“Yes.”

“The one who's also friends with Kent, the quarterback?”

“Yes.”

“Nerd, short, pretty eyes, nice ass and very cute?”

“Yes. Yes.”

"Totally your type?"

“Yep.”

“The one you have a crush on and look at him from afar, but you deny it and never take the first step because you’re a dramatic bitch?”

“Yes.”

“What? You have finally talked to him?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I ran him over.”

Roy was silent. Completely silent, looking at him and blinking a few times at the news. Jason couldn’t avoid wondering if that was the face he did when he found out he was going to be a dad in high school, but he couldn't joke with that because he was too busy panicking right now.

“What?” The redhead ended up asking to make sure he had heard correctly.

“I ran him over, Roy.” He repeated, feeling the panic build within him again.

The other was quiet again, staring at him stunned.

“I. Ran. Him. Over.” He repeated once more, this time to internalize it himself, because since it had happened, he hadn’t even had time to do it. “During the break, with the bike.”

One, two, three seconds of silence before Roy dared to say anything, and when he did everything that came out of his bright and amazing mind was:

“He’s dead?”

“No!” He yelled in exasperation at that, causing some clients in the cafe to look at him.

He didn't even want to imagine that possibility, he already had enough.

“Well, that’s good.” The other tried to say to see the positive point of the whole thing.

“It’s not. It’s not!” He complained, none of this was okay.

“If you think about it, you've already broken the ice, Jay.” His friend joked to cheer him up. "Everything that follows is easy."

“What I broke was his leg.” He sentenced still agitated, he appreciated the attempts from the other for encouraging him but couldn't work for many reasons. “And wait, there's more.”

“There’s more?” He asked, intrigued, with that face he made every time he heard a gossip that interested him.

“There’s more.” He confirmed with a nod. “Now I know his name.”

“You know it?”

"Yes, I finally know it.”

“Tell me.” He asked, beginning to smile, like an exalted puppy.

“Do you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes!”

“Timothy Drake.”

Roy was quiet again, thoughtful. This time Jason swears that he could see how the gears in his head gave their all -which wasn’t much- to assimilate that name and think where he might have heard it before.

“Drake?” The redhead ended up asking with a frown.

“Yeah. Drake.”

"Like… Drake Industries?”

“Exactly.”

"Your father's competitors?!” He asked then, opening his eyes slightly.

He nodded. His adoptive father, Bruce Wayne, was in charge of the famous and multi-million-dollar company called Wayne Enterprise, which for the past few years had been surrounded by strong rivals in Gotham, such as Drake Industries, for example. Directed by Jack and Janet Drake, who apparently have an only child, a student, very attractive and easy to hit.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, taking his phone out of his pocket to show it to his friend, the object had started vibrating again nonstop, texts arriving over and over again. “And guess what: They are not happy!”

“I wouldn't be either if you ran over my daughter.” Roy said as if it was obvious.

“But you don't have a public image, an army of lawyers and a lot of money!” Technically he had it, because Oliver Queen is not exactly from middle class, but he was not rival of his family and the gossip magazines would not publish the minimum friction that they had. “They've already called Bruce and they want a meeting with those involved, they are going to eat me alive."

He was sure they would. The Gotham's corporate and high-society landscape had never been his thing, he was just a street boy who knew no manners and bored by math, it had been clear from the first and only sophisticated gala to which he was forced to go and in which he learned that high society were unscrupulous sharks.

Maybe if he had gone to more of those parties, he would have met Timothy Drake before and wouldn’t have to learn his name after struck him with his motorcycle, but you can no longer change the past.

"Well, yes, you screwed up." Roy finished saying as he nodded, totally convinced.

What a great support. Wise words.

“They're going to kill me, if Bruce doesn't do it before.” He thought aloud, they hadn't even made an appointment with the lawyers, and he was already stressed. “Or Fox with the public relations team.”

He could already see the headlines in the gossip magazines, overshadowing the ones that talked about his older brother's one-night lovers or the ones that mentioned the bad manners the little one had.

“Yes, you are fucked.” Roy said, nodding and taking in what he had just told him, although after a few seconds he frowned. “But… Bro, just one thing.”

“What?” He asked, rubbing his eyes, and doing his best not to pull his hair out.

“How did you end up running over the boy? You are not a bad driver; you are always focus.”

Now it was Jason’s turn to stay quiet and look at the table, blinking as he chooses an answer that didn't make him look like a fucking mess. He couldn't think of any, so he allowed the silence to continue.

"Jason?" Roy asked, beginning to lose patience again. “What happened?”

Still not saying anything, Jay looked down further and felt his cheeks begin to heat up.

"No…" Roy whispered surprised. Knowing him so well gave him too much of an advantage. “Tell me it’s not true.”

He couldn’t do nothing more than blushing stronger, cross his arms and shrug. He wanted to deny what he was thinking, but he couldn’t.

That morning he hadn't expected to see Timothy hanging around that part of campus with his friends as he searched for a place to park his bike. The boy was wearing a wide sweatshirt, but at the same time those tight pants that fit him so well, his blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, the wind ruffled that ebony hair that seemed soft to the touch, and the soft and loving smile that was directed to his friends as they walked together caused things in Jason that he couldn't explain.

So, in one moment he was looking at him stunned and the next he had lost the course of the motorcycle and was hitting him.

Shit happens, right?

Apparently not, because Roy had started laughing. A lot. Had started with a weak and incredulous laugh that had grown to become loud laughter that made the tears jump of his eyes and the people in the cafe look at them again, annoyed.

“I can’t believe it! Jay!” Roy said loudly and laughing like crazy, he could hardly breathe.

“It's not funny.” He replied, his arms crossed and his face anger.

Yes it was, it was very funny indeed. If it had been Roy who had run over his crush for having been too distracted having a gay panic for him, he would have also laughed a lot and wouldn’t have let him forget it for the rest of his life. So, he was sure that his friend was not going to do it too.

“It's amazing!” The other answered trying to dry the tears away but still laughing. “Bud, you’re really fucked.”

Jason knew he was saying it just because being so attracted to a guy to the point of running him over unintentionally was a lot, but if they took into account that surely now that boy hated him, along with his parents, friends, and lawyers, whom he would have to meet soon to deal with the consequences of that, yes, that described his situation quite well.

Jason was fucked.

~0.0~

“I just have one question.” Bruce said to his side, also laying his back on the corridor’s wall.

One day, only one day had passed. 24 hours since he had committed the serious mistake of being too aware of a cutie with black hair and blue big eyes like a damn puppy, and he was already in the law firm wearing a suit, almost sweating and the man he could call father looking at him sternly. They were both in the hallway which was heading to the boardroom as they waited for permission to enter, and Jason had been trying not think about how he had destroyed his chances of dating the Drake boy before Bruce came up to judge him, again.

He didn't blame him, the man had spent the previous day receiving and making calls on his name, making the appointment as he could while containing his desire to give him a slap. He didn’t need the talk of "we are public figures, we have to behave" again, because he gave it that to him a lot at his younger times, so he had tried to stay out of it. This implied that Bruce didn’t have time to ask him anything before he had to get him up earlier to go to the Drake’s law firm. Knowing this, Jason continued looking at nothing, but he nodded to give him the opportunity to ask that question.

“There are more than eighty thousand students enrolled at Gotham University.” The man began to say still looking at him. "And of all of them, you have to run over Timothy Drake precisely?"

Jason seemed to think about it for a few long seconds, although the answer was obvious.

“Yes?” He answered. No one at the university had caught his eye like Tim had, so he doubted he could have been distracted enough by another person to run them over.

Bruce sighed deeply, exasperated, and lifting his hand to the bridge of his nose. He had seen him do that gesture of disappointment so many times throughout his life that he could no longer count them.

"Jason…”

“It was an accident.” He was also lost count the times he had said that since the day before.

"I know, son, but it's not me you have to convince.” He finished explaining, taking another deep breath. “It’s her.”

The tone in which he said that, was uncertain and with severe hints of fear, something he was no longer so used to hearing from Bruce and made a chill run down his spine.

“Her?” He asked, trying not to break his voice from the stress.

Bruce breathed again to try to calm down and nodded, the way he looked at him to reveal more reminded him of Alfred when he told him stories as they cooked together in the manor when he was younger.

“Janet Drake.” He let out that name in a low voice, as if it were forbidden to pronounce it. “You've never met her in person, and I was counting on you not have to.”

“Why?” This time he couldn't stop his voice from breaking slightly.

“Don't get me wrong, she is a beautiful woman, very intelligent and talented. Everyone knows that Drake Industries has come this far thanks to her.” He began to say, in a poor attempt to calm him that was not leading nowhere. "But do you know how she is called?”

“How?” His throat couldn't close anymore, he didn't like where this was going.

“The Ice Queen.” Bruce announced. “That's how she’s known, but I can assure you is not enough.”

This time he didn't want to ask anymore, although Bruce would keep talking. Because the ice queen, the ice queen, the ice queen, fucking seriously? No one who has earned such a name in Gotham's corporate and high-society landscape can be kind and understanding. Fuck.

“I have only seen Janet angry one time.” His father emphasized as he pulled out his tie, as if it were choking him. Maybe he was nervous too. “Many years ago, at a gala organized by the Dumas.”

It took Jason a few seconds. He tried to link that last name to some wealthy Gotham family, but unfortunately, he couldn't think of any.

“Who are the Dumas?” He ended up asking.

Bruce looked him seriously in the eye, returned to pull his tie out and nodded frowning.

“Exactly.” He replied annoyed.

Jason swallowed hard and looked back at nothing at the implication in that response. He was going to die, he was going to die, he was to fucking die, there was a beast in Gotham, a fierce and fearsome beast that apparently erased families from the business and social map and he had angered her, he had angered her a lot. He had awakened the beast by harming her puppy, and everyone knew that nothing was more dangerous than an angry mother.

“Mr. Wayne, you can come in.” They heard the voice of one of the mediators calling them from the door of the boardroom.

It's hot, why it’s so hot? He's sweating, he's sure he's sweating, or maybe crying, but he can't be sure because Bruce has put his hand on his lower back, trying to cheer him up and is directing him to the room followed by his own lawyers because they can't let the Drakes wait, but Jason felt like he was going straight to the slaughterhouse.

When he entered, he was greeted by the sight of another group well-dressed, very serious and sitting across the table, lawyers, public relations, and mediators, ready to work and do reach an agreement between the two of Gotham's biggest families with their friction. However, all of them and their greetings were in the background for him when he realized that in one of the chairs was the small, nerdy and adorable boy who had accidentally hit, who looked at him from his seat surprised by his presence and -surely- for being able to put a face to his attacker. He didn't expect him to be there either, he should be resting, but seeing him made the stress he felt ease at least a little.

Both seemed to stare at each other for a few seconds, recognizing each other, and after what seemed like forever, Timothy gave him a slight, almost imperceptible, sorry smile. Jason's heart jumped and he felt warm for a second, his nerves almost disappeared at that gesture, looking at the way in which the boy had combed different this time for the meeting, how pretty he was -as usual-, or how a dimple formed in his cheek when he was smiling, how beautiful that smile was. He would like to see him smile more, smile at him, and does that mean he didn't hate him? He would like to know, and it was all happiness and hope until he realized why of that sorry smile.

Suddenly he felt cold, so cold.

Janet Drake was also staring at him, sitting right next to her son in a straight and elegant posture, without taking her eyes off him. Black hair, smooth and shiny, delicate features, neutral and apparently calm expression. Beautiful, but unattainable, because her blue, icy eyes pierced him in a way that froze him inside. The woman sitting there seemed to be able to see his soul and rip it off, everything from him, that could split him in two and rip out every part of his being without any effort. And despite appearing calm and serene, her aura, everything in her posture, in her gaze, screamed danger and misfortune.

There’s no doubt, she’s the ice queen in all her glory.

He was wasted.

~0.0~

Tim was wasted.

When he had got up that morning, everything he had asked for was that the meeting was normal and went without any inconvenient. And as he prepared to attend awkwardly and without receive any help, because half a day was not enough time to get used to using crutches, he mentally reviewed what had been planned for that meeting.

His parents hadn’t wanted to reveal who had been the responsible for the incident, he didn’t know exactly the reason, but he sensed it must have been someone important, given the deployment of means that had been carried out, it’s not like they also gave him much opportunity to ask anyway. Both immediately went out to arrange the meeting and to arrange things with the hospital so they would give him discharged, and by the time he was allowed to leave he was too exhausted and wasn’t going to say no to anyone when they asked him to rest even more, because he needed it. Hopefully, he had already had an excuse to turn in those assignments later.

So, despite not knowing who he was going to meet, he had decided to do that unfortunate soul a favor and stay in the line that he was fine, surely it had been an incident, and they didn’t have to give it more importance than it had even though his mother wanted to cut heads and stick them in stakes to decorate the garden.

He was the more affected, his word had to count there... No?

Anyway, that's what he thought before he saw Jason Todd walking through the door.

Now, all crushed down, the meeting had started a while ago and he was quiet, serious and sitting in his chair with the Wayne's in front of him, looking at the fine mahogany table and barely listening to the legal conversation that was taking place in his name, although why he fooled himself? Nothing he could say would change anything or appease his parents. But the thing was, why? why is the world so cruel? Jason Todd? really? Of all people, of all motorcycles in the world, it has to be the one from his crush?

It's not like he'd ever thought he had a slight chance with him after all. Jason was tall, handsome, with that bad boy vibe that he likes too much for his own good, also smart, cult, while Tim was... Tim. They had only spoken face to face once at a gala where a 12-year-old Jason shared a muffin with him and never went to any of them again, sure he didn't even remember it. They also went to different faculties, he only saw him from afar on campus from time to time and they hadn't even spoken, but that didn't stop him from noticing him because he had eyes, thank you. No one knows, except maybe Conner, but beyond a curious sparkle in his eyes after realized that he was drooling over Jason in the distance, he never brought the topic up, so he'd always had that fascination with the Wayne boy in secret and under lock and key. He knew that his parents wouldn't be too happy to find out that he was interested in the son of his greatest competitor, or that he was interested in any boy in general, that topic had never come up anyway and he wasn't going to bring it up.

Until the boy walked into the meeting room with his father and Tim almost had a short circuit when he realized that what hit him was an attractive literature student in a leather jacket riding that incredible Ducati. Come on, it wasn’t fair, he had always wanted to ride that, and then the bike, but it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to think about when the other one was looking at him surprised that he was there. He was so busy panicking that he only managed to give him a nervous smile that he hoped hadn't ridiculed him, and then when they sat down he could only scream internally because Jason was so handsome in a suit, this meeting might not end well, Jay could end up hating him if he didn't already, and his mother hadn’t taken her eyes off the tallest as if she were a shark smelling fresh blood.

So, trying to regain his composure and recover from the revelation, Tim sighed, straightened up in his seat, and pretended to listen the meeting while trying with all his might to calm down.

But he couldn't do it, he couldn’t, because it wasn’t easy. The atmosphere wasn’t the most adequate to do it, he could heard his father laugh and trying to appear friendly and understanding when he knew that it was only a strategy to emphasize the coldness and seriousness of his mother, who, of course, kept looking at the Waynes as if they had committed the greatest offense known to man. He played with his fingers for a moment and peeked to assess the situation, Bruce, or Brucie, kept an eye on the mediator's talk, while Jason… Oh.

He turned his gaze away immediately, trying to control his blush. Jason was looking at him in a sneaky attempt too, but they had both failed when their eyes met across the table. He didn't know what to think about it. Did Jason hate him? He did? What was he thinking? He would hate him, of course. He was too nervous, and the possibilities started to suffocate him, he needed to get out of there.

Luckily, his beloved malevolent mother, the perfect model for being a villain in a Disney movie, possessed a sharp sixth sense that was activated at the slightest sign of anguish on his part, which caused her to divert the piercing gaze of the Waynes to center it on him, silently asking what was wrong.

The only good thing about being run over a day earlier by the guy you like is that he could excuse himself from these kinds of meetings without any repercussions or questions.

“Can I get out for a moment?” He whispered, lowering his head.

His fear of asking something like that wasn’t exactly small, but Janet seemed to consider it for a few seconds as she carefully analyzed him before giving his approval and nodding, not before turning his gaze once more to Jason.

Before deciding to worry more about it, he stood up as he could with the crutches and managed to leave the room ignoring the looks on him. His goal was to get to the water machine that was around the hall to pour himself a glass and calm down a bit, but that broken leg didn’t make it easy for him. It was a hard journey; he swears when he got there, he could hear the victory music of Mario Kart playing in his head.

It would have kept playing, he would even have sang it, if it hadn't been because while pouring that first glass, a voice behind him caught his attention and made him jump and turn around with all the speed he had, which wasn’t a lot.

“Hey.” Jason had said softly.

He had to put everything he had together so as not to drop the plastic cup or crush it in his hands. How had he also escaped from the meeting? So much time had passed since his trip to the water machine?

“H-Hey.” He replied nervously and looking down.

That seemed to make Jason nervous too, who already seemed to be it before too, as well as a little guilty, because he tried to look everywhere except him until he had no choice.

“Hi.” Said the tallest.

“Hi.” He replied again.

Eloquent. Inspiring.

They ended up looking at each other closely, at least for a minute before Tim began to fear again and prepare himself for the impending rejection he was going to suffer without even trying. That happened to him for crossing the street without looking before.

But then Jason sighed hard, he tensed and scream in his mind than he wasn’t ready.

“Listen. I…” He began to say, scratching the back of his neck and looking at him sadly. “I’m sorry.”

Eh?

“Eh?”

The other looked at him confused at his reaction. Although surely, he wasn't more confused than he was, he didn't expect an apology even though it was the most normal thing to do in those situations.

“I'm sorry.” Jason repeated, frowning in confusion. "It was an accident, really. And I'm glad you're okay."

If Jason Todd didn’t want him having a massive crush on him this isn’t the way. At all. He had no right to be so attractive to begin with, but neither so good nor kind to him. Before Tim could think better of it, he was already spitting out an unnecessary question:

“Aren't you angry?” He asked, he knew it sounded a bit stunned, but it seemed weird to him. “For all of this?”

Anyone would have been upset or angry about all the trouble their parents had been having over something like that, with the lawyers, the firm, and the notaries. If it had been someone else, they would have caused them a lot of trouble, he was aware of it. So, he couldn't help but wonder how Jason couldn't blame him for the legal mess.

“Shouldn't I be the one asking that?” Jason said raising an eyebrow and pointing at his crutches. “You were the most affected.”

Blinking, Tim realized what he was implying on that and he quickly shook his head effusively. Jason thought he was angry at him? That he hated him for this or something? That’s why he had been so tense with him?

“Oh no. It’s okay.” He hastened to explain. “I know it was an accident, I wasn't paying attention either, those things happen.”

Jason's shoulders seemed to lift as if a huge weight had been lifted from him, and his eyes shone at him in a way he couldn't determine, made him want to smile, this time from relief. Jason didn't hate him, or vice versa. That was a good sign, wasn't it? It meant he had a chance… Right?

“Thank god.” Murmured the other with a slight smile, clearly relieved.

“Unless you did it on purpose.” He dared to say with a playful tone, wanting to take weight off the issue. “In which case, it wouldn't be so good.”

Jason's smile widened and he let out a funny snort, relaxing him was a plus and made Tim compliment himself for that.

“How would I have met you then?” Jason blurted out, still smiling at him.

The atmosphere between them changed completely, it was no longer so uncomfortable or formal, but very different, embarrassed, and warm. Tim felt how his heart stopped before starting to beat faster, because that last one, the way he had said it, and the nervous look he was giving him now, was Jason flirting with him? It was real?

“A-Ah.” He replied mildly surprised. “I don’t know…”

If he continued like this, his brain would definitely fry, more than it already was. He looked at the hallway wall uneasily as Jason ruffled his hair, also undecided.

“I'd like to make it up to you.” He ended up saying, looking like he had come to an agreement with himself. “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh?” He asked, tilting his head curiously, his heart starting to beat stronger than before by the tiny possibility.

“I can invite you to a coffee, or something like that… It would be okay?”

This time when Jason looked up, still seemed impatient and nervous, but the slight blush covering his cheeks indicated why. Tim almost exploded right there, and he had to take all of himself to act quickly.

“Yes. A coffee would be fine.” He also nervously stated, trying to control himself. “It would be a date?”

The brief seconds Jason took to answer that question born from his desire to know, seemed like hours to him, the longest in Tim's life. But when he ended up nodding, scratching the back of his neck again and totally flushed, he couldn't help but smile excitedly and let his own blush appear this time, feeling warm and happy.

“Then I'd love to.” He answered laughing, he couldn’t help it.

“Yes? Really?” Jason asked in surprise again, as if it hadn't been clear from the start that he would say yes. Although by the way they ended up talking, it wasn’t surprising that he doubted his answer, not many people forgave something like a struck with a bike.

“Yes.” He nodded again, totally sure. “What about now?”

No, he didn’t want to go back to the meeting, he knew Jason either. It was no longer worth it. And maybe with this they could give the public relations team something else to work with.

Jason smiled at him in that warm and happy way that made him feel dizzy, but he looked to the hallway of the meeting room somewhat concerned.

“Bruce is used to me avoiding these things, but I don't think your mother would be very happy.”

After a moment of thinking about it, Tim almost went back to laugh again, happy, funny, almost touched.

Before that meeting and his departure from it he hadn’t been sure, but with Jason now in front of him there was no doubt. Her mother expressed her love in very different ways, and it was evident that she had an efficient and sharp mother radar, there was nothing that escaped her, there was nothing she didn't know, no matter how much Tim had tried to hide his panic at the beginning of the meeting, or his sexuality itself. He was very sure that by now she had to know, and if she wouldn't have wanted him or Jason to leave the room, she wouldn’t allowed it. If she hadn't wanted them to talk right now, Jason wouldn't be there. It was that simple.

“I think we'll be fine.” He assured him with a wide smile, taking his mother's actions as a kind of blessing.

When Jason's eyes shined and he smiled back, he confirmed it.

Yes, they would be fine.

~0.0~

“You look so pretty today, Janet. You haven’t changed at all since our last meeting.” Said Brucie with his usual smile.

“…”

“How much time has passed? Six years?”

“…”

“And look at you, beautiful as always.”

“…”

“Jack is a lucky man.”

“…”

“And Timothy? Oh, I remember when he was little, totally the cutest thing in the galas. Now is a man too, but he looks a lot like you.”

“…”

“Kids, uh? Grow up so fast.”

“…”

“Talking about kids, ours have left a while ago, maybe I should go to find th-”

“Sit down.”

Bruce sit down and didn’t speak again.

#myfic #jaytimweek #jaytimweek2020 #dc comics #batman #jaytim #timjay #tim drake #jason todd #red robin #red hood #college au

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 1 month

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You Make me Wanna Scream at the Top of my Lungs

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/iOfE2LV by Myheartwinter Jayna (Jason Genderbend), always wanting something; to be Catherine's real mother, for her real mother not to sell her to the Joker, for Talia not to exploit her, for Richard to truly love her, for Bruce not to turn her into a damned public service announcement of a good soldier, and despite all that, for Slade Wilson to be able to treat her like a father. Slade had a different mission. He didn't save Jayna from getting a batarang on her neck that day for nothing. Slade had an interest in girls younger than him, and Jayna was only 17 years old. The bad thing was not that she knew these things, but that she went to Deathstroke even though she knew them. She was blind. Yes, she was literally blind. She was blind to love and didn't want to let it go, even if the person he found it with was a fucking pervert. So, did she still want to go? Did she have anywhere to go? Did she want to die, did she want to kill people, did she want to turn to Bruce right now and beg him to take her with him? No. She made up her mind, she was going to let Slade manipulate her. Words: 1967, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Arkham Asylum (Comics), Batman: Death in the Family (Movie 2020) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Categories: F/M Characters: Jason Todd, Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul, Selina Kyle, Arkham Asylum Staff (DCU), Joker (DCU), Duke Thomas Relationships: Jason Todd & Slade Wilson, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Roy Harper & Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Female Jason Todd, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd-centric, Hurt Jason Todd, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Arkham Asylum is Terrible, Slade Wilson Being an Asshole, Slade Wilson is Deathstroke, Slade Wilson Being a Monster, Protective Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Jason Todd and Damian Wayne Meet in the League of Assassins, Cassandra Cain and Jason Todd are Siblings, Bruce Wayne Tries, Bruce Wayne is Jason Todd's Biological Parent, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Protective Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Tries to Be a Good Older Sibling, Bruce Wayne is Dick Grayson's Biological Parent, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Angst (DCU), Good Sibling Cassandra Cain, Protective Cassandra Cain, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Protective Tim Drake, Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Protective Damian Wayne, Jason Todd Loves Slade Wilson, Drugged Jason Todd, fem!jasontodd read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/iOfE2LV

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the caped crusader #the dark knight #dcu #ao3 #ao3feed

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astyle-alex · 3 years

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[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

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

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

Museum Mishap | Chapter 1/6

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

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

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

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

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

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

Chapter 1 : Special Access

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After he used it to his tech fantasy fulfillment advantage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Jason Peter Todd.

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

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

“Uh, hi,” Tim floundered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Field trip,” Tim responded automatically.

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

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

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

“Lunch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tim frowned, his gaze snapping up to evaluate Jason.

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

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

Tim could do that. Right?

All he had to do was figure out how.

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

Probably not like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tim could work with that. Probably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously? None?”

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

Adamantly.

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

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

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

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

So, how did Robin know enough to suspect him?

“Who’d you hear it from?”

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

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

“Huh.”

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

Tim suddenly understood why it was so effective.

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

But he wasn’t a victim. Was he?

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

But why?

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

“When’d you start hearing that rumor?”

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

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

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

Tim nodded absently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody knew anything about Batman.

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

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

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

It was 4:32pm.

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

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

“We have to get out of here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have to get out of the building.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s why,” he groaned.

-----

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cetaceans-pls · 4 years

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Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne

Summary:

Revolution and family both run on love and carbohydrates, and you can quote Jason on that.

Or, Jason swings by the Manor to find Alfred stress-cooking his heart out after a fight with Bruce, and over the course of making dumplings, the concept of caring by way of cooking becomes clear.

June got me feeling some kind of way about blatantly showing people you care about how much you care. We’re almost halfway through 2020, so keep on keeping on, and be charitable and kind as often as you possibly can.

Fic in Tumblr under the cut, and here’s my masterlist for more sweet sweet reads:

2020, right?

Jason’s not sure there’s anything left in his tank except for spite; it’s enough to get him out and about making sure that the GCPD watched their fucking step, but even spite is (surprisingly enough) not endless. That’s the hallmark of this most accursed of accursed years; prickly energy up-down his back that leaves him restless, and a complete inability to actually do any fucking thing about any fucking bit of it.

Times like these, there’s really just the one sure-fire way to re-find centre, and if it involves hacking into the family calendar to find just the right time when most everyone’s out of the house, well. There’s a reason Bruce never revoked his access, even if he’s got a second lifetime left to regret his pre-teen e-mail address ( ‘ [email protected] ’, where the w’s are of course for Wonder Woman, and the x’s are for Cool).

It’s a shitty hot June day, depression and distress are heavier in the air even than the choking humidity, and the Manor is quiet and cool in comparison. It’s tomb-like, yeah, but it’s not coffin-like and that makes all the difference. Jason comes in through the front door because he knows the house is mostly empty, and sheds layers as he goes. By the time he reaches the kitchen, he’s a full-grown man in ratty sweats and a sweat-damp undershirt, and Alfred looks up at him with endless warmth. “Why, Master Jason, if you had rung the bell I could have greeted you at the door.”

Jason looks both ways just in case, because this family is full up to the neck in people with horrific timing, before ducking down and pecking Alfred on the cheek; xxwwDangerBirdwwxx is not the only thing that stayed with him from childhood. “Heya, Alfie,” he says, already feeling 15 degrees better than he did outside. “I just let myself in, don’t sweat it. Am I interrupting something?”

He very clearly is. Alfred doesn’t have his coat on, and looks achingly domestic with his shirt sleeves neatly folded up and his soft fuzzy sweater-vest. His hands are a floury mess, kneading dough the size of two Dick-heads, but Alfred’s already moving away to wash his hands and put the kettle on. “Hey, no, you don’t have to, lemme just make my own-”

“Nonsense, Master Jason,” Alfred says, mild-mannered and a thousand times more menacing than Batman at his absolute worst. “It’s no trouble, there’s leftover roast beef from dinner yesterday, it won’t take a moment to make you a snack.”

And in less than said moment, Jason has tea-with-honey-and-milk, and a roast beef sandwich that smells like the dream ideal of every roast beef sandwich. He’s already eating before his brain can tell him to protest Alfred waiting on him, and the appreciative groan comes in right on queue, under a second after that first bite.

There is A Father, A Son, and A Holy Ghost, and they manifest all at once as an elderly British man with the finger strength of a mid-sized mountain gorilla. That dough is being beaten into absolute submission as Alfred gets back into the swing of things, and over the course of the consumption of a sandwich, it becomes a smooth, perfect lump that gets lovingly plopped into a bowl and covered with a damp tea cloth.

Alfred doesn’t ask Jason if there’s something wrong, or if he needs something. The clearest need is obviously the need to be home, and home Jason is, so whatever thing that next goes wrong had best be prepared to face Alfred and his selection of awful terrible knives that line the kitchen. He puts the bowl away on a shady spot on a windowsill and pulls out a mountain of onions instead, and gets to peeling.

Jason pulls out a switchblade from somewhere about his person, blitzes it with the hand sanitiser they’ve all been guilted into bringing with them at any and all times, and starts helping. His kitchen in his ratty apartment is where all the rats in the building like to hold Communion or something, so he’s long since given up having fresh produce around. Happily, vigilanteeism with a side of crime bossing keeps your knife skills sharp, and there’s something alarmingly freeing about peeling and chopping onions while unavoidable tears start up, in a sunny kitchen with your granddad.

“What’re we getting all these onions ready for, anyways?” Jason says, enjoying the excuse to have a stress cry. Alfred doesn’t suffer from waterworks, but that’s because he suffers from chronic dry eyes instead. It's a condition that persists despite every Robin in a long line of Robins buying every eye drop product on the market between them for him to try.

Crying's a funny ol’ thing in the Manor, and it’s also funny that Alfred’s probably seen the most tears despite being the man least capable of them.

“Everyone has been running ragged across the city recently, and I thought that dumplings might be quite a nice treat for dinner tonight. I assume you’ll be joining us, won’t you Master Jason?”

“Of course,” Jason says because there’s no point getting between Alfred and dinner participation. There’s a bigger issue at hand anyways; dumplings are delicious but also obnoxiously difficult to make in any quantity fit to feed Bats and Birds and their oversized appetites. Everybody in the household has a favourite type, but everybody in the household worries when they get their wish, because Alfred only ever makes dumplings for a full meal when he’s stress-cooking out of his mind.

The man can’t even stress-cry while cutting onions, for fuck’s sake.

It’s best to broach the topic with a soft touch, which sucks entire balls because it’s not exactly Jason’s specialty. “So, uh. What dumplings are we making today?”

“Only 3 types,” Alfred says with a hint of apology. “Xiaolongbao, because I wanted to finish up the last batch of stock I made and Master Dick does so enjoy soup dumplings. A side of cheese-and-spinach momos for Master Damian, who has mentioned missing Tibetan food. And seeing as how you’ll be joining us, as many gyoza as these old hands of mine are able to make, Master Jason.”

Okay, cool, so an infinity of endless, delicious potstickers then, all right. What a time to be alive, Jason thinks to himself. “Not making anything special for B, huh?”

The mood takes a turn for the spoilt, goes off faster than tipping a fistful of salt into a cup of milk. “Master Bruce will have whatever is available, and he will enjoy it,” Alfred says frostily, and chops the end off an onion with significantly more force than reasonable.

That’s the answer, then. Christ, what has Bruce done now? “Saw on the schedule that he’s got a board meeting for another couple of hours, Alfred, so you can lay it on me. What happened? Are you okay?”

Alfred looks at him at that, looks at him and smiles the smile he gets every year when he’s inundated with gifts on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and the arbitrarily set Alfred’s Day (September 8th, as decided by Dick on a whim entire aeons ago), and Jason tries not to feel embarrassed because he’s a whole-ass adult but he doesn’t pretend he’s not pleased to have made the mood ease up. “I’m well, Master Jason, thank you for your concern. I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Master Bruce.” He sighs, and they fall into silence. B brings bad communication out of the best of men, what else is new.

The mound of onions done, Jason is assigned ginger and garlic and potatoes and more things fresh from the garden and greenhouse, while Alfred starts taking his frustration out on a mountain of meat.

Jason’s careful to keep their produce separate, as is Alfred; wouldn’t do to cross-contaminate meat into momos, after all. They work and they work and they work, until all the prep is done and all that’s left is the dough and the stuffing.

The duties get divided like this: Jason gets the cheese and the seasoned spinach to make vegetarian dumplings for Damian, and Alfred gets literally everything else. Despite this, though, Alfred’s sure fingers and devastating dexterity churn out beautifully-shaped dumplings at 4 times Jason’s top speed.

Jason’s got 8 done and Alfred’s putting an entire tray away when Alfred finally breaks their quiet and sighs, looking as old as he is (and isn’t that the most horrifying thing this horrifying year, hey). “Excuse my dour mood, Master Jason. I had an altercation with Master Bruce this morning, regarding his workload and his reluctance to delegate. It grew unfortunately heated, and I turned a blind eye to his extremely broken hand. I did not stop him from leaving the Manor for work." A little additional violence goes into the folding of the current gyoza, and Alfred's lips twist and turn down like a dumpling fold. "Decades I've spent looking after the man. It's alarming how he can still rile me up so."

Isn't that a Universal Truth. Alfred's Angry Gyoza still looks better than Jason's best go at a momo, which is also a Universal Truth. He just needs to try again, till he gets better. Alfred’s good at indirectly teaching patience, and directly practicing it himself, but everyone’s got a line and it’s not the first time somebody’s crossed this one. “It’s his special gift, swear to God. You know what they say, Alfie. Hell really is other people.” Oh, the pleats on this one are looking mighty fine. “Uh, just. How bad a break are we talking about here? What exactly did he do to piss you off this time?”

“He hasn’t had more than 2 hours of sleep a day since, oh, April, I believe. Master Bruce is trying to effect systemic change at both his day-time and night-time jobs, and he has been running on little more than righteous anger and painkillers for weeks. Master Tim has tried to talk him down, as have I, but yesterday he shattered his wrist in a fight with far too many pigs and I found him working down below when I woke up this morning with his hand wrapped up in duct tape.” Alfred sighs, and rubs at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Duct tape and batarangs for splints, Lord help me, because he didn’t want me to worry about the true extent of his injuries.”

And now Bruce is in his civvies with an unknown number of broken bones and a blood opium level that’s over 9000, trying to do good in a no-good world, and all Alfred can do is to become more dumpling machine than man to avoid the deep unpleasantness of it all.

Jason whistles. He thought he’d been having a bad time but at least Alfred was a surefire source of comfort. Alfred’s place to turn to until he’d walked in was just a lump of dough, shit. “Sounds about right for him. But Alfie, how ‘bout you? You’re the one co-ordinating the largest band of crime fighters outside the League, and you’re most of the reason why the man that does co-ordinate the League is even a little bit functioning.” Bruce is a whole entire adult man filled to the brows with idiocy, sure, but… “If everyone’s running ragged you’re gonna be running ragged-est, and if I thought that was the case, we-ell. Duct tape starts looking better and better.”

Alfred looks affronted and gently outraged. “I have been doing just fine, Master Jason. I am not the man running around in costume trying to punch unkindness out of his fellow man. I am just the butler, sitting at home making dumplings, while the master of the household is tripping across the financial district in screaming pain.” Uh oh, here comes another Angry Gyoza, perfectly-shaped and squeezed just a shade too hard.

Jason puts down a slightly-less-crappy momo on his tray, and reaches across the small kitchen table to catch Alfred by the wrist, gentle as anything. “Alfie, I’m saying this as someone who loves you so much I’d literally kill for you,” and boy Jason sure does mean literally, “but hard-headedness is a learned trait, and we got it from B and B got it from you. The man’s an idiot, sure, but sounds like he’s probably at least as worried ‘bout you as you are ‘bout him. Does that sound about right?”

Ah, he really does suck at this whole sweetly-softly thing, but it’s clear once you think to look. Alfred’s game face is in many ways more impenetrable even than a cowl and a mask, but there’re dark circles under his eyes, he’s sallow instead of just pale, and there’s an exhausted stoop to his back that’s usually hidden under a perfectly-tailored suit jacket. Jason’s seeing it now after weeks of work keeping him away from the Manor; if he’d been seeing Alfred like this every day for the past god-knows-how-long, self-care with tape would suddenly seem incredibly appealing.

Alfred looks at his hand, Jason looks at Alfred, and they’re both quiet for a while. Jason thinks he should let go, but he also can’t help but feel that if he does, Alfred’s going to go back to being ‘just the butler’, and that’s not right, not right at all.

In the end, Alfred makes the first move, pulling away just so that he can pat the back of Jason’s hand. “It’s always a pleasant surprise to see how you have grown into such a fine young man,” he says absently, devastatingly. “Especially given the role models you were saddled with. Master Bruce…. may have brought up that I was working more than I should, though he did not come up with a viable alternative.” Alfred rolls his eyes, a rarity in public view. “He tried to give me a curfew; off the comms by midnight, Alfred, that’s the rule.”

They both snort at that. No one’s respected curfew in any format at any age in this household, and it’s almost sweet how Bruce nevertheless keeps trying it on child, adult, and parent alike.

“Nevertheless,” Alfred continues, hand still on Jason’s, “it’s a fair point to say that my and Master Bruce’s worrying over each has grown somewhat out of control, and changes need to be made. It… would help to have another pair of hands at the Manor.”

Oh, no. Alfred’s about-turn raises Jason’s suspicions, but it’s too late for him to do anything about it.

“Oh,” Alfred says with an exaggerated sigh, a smile hiding in plain sight, “it would do my old heart good if Master Bruce were to have more assistance during his night-time escapades. And if someone were available to help me cut onions and dice garlic, that would help too.”

Jason’s already fucking sunk, because he’s learned how to say ‘no’ to many things and 'fuck off' to a few more, but he’s never learned how to turn down an Alfred who works harder than most anyone to never ask for more than what his family can give.

He groans, completely trapped. “I’m a grown adult and I’m not moving back home with my family, Alfie, c’mon.”

Alfred pats him again, and goes back to making Jason’s favourite dumplings. “Of course, Master Jason, but that’s no reason why you couldn’t have dinner at home more often. Besides, who will badger and bully Master Bruce into being a more reasonable man if not for you?”

That’s a reasonable ask, because post-resurrection Jason has carved out time in his busy schedule to constantly prod and poke Bruce into being less of an asshole. And if Jason’s willing to go on a murderous rampage at Alfred’s behest, coming by more often to work together and help out isn’t much of an ask at all.

“Stop it, you already know I’m gonna say yes,” Jason grumbles, moving back to his task. “Alfie, you’re the absolute worst manipulator in the entire house, and this house is full of bastards.”

Alfred just laughs quietly, seeming more at ease and at peace than he was at the start. "I'm afraid, sir, I'll have to respectfully disagree. Hell may be other people, but this family, I think, is about as good as it gets."

And really, what's a good comeback to that?

Jason's setting the kitchen table for dinner while Alfred handles the steamer baskets and griddle with tremendous aplomb when the door creeps open timidly. That has Jason immediately on high alert, because nobody in the Manor does anything timidly.

It's Bruce, looking how he looks when he's about to go 3 rounds with the Joker while Killer Croc's nipping at one heel and the Penguin’s gnawing on the other. His right hand is wrapped in a blue cast, strapped to his front in a utilitarian white sling, and his left arm is weighed down with a grocery bag filled to bursting with what looks to be a guilty gift of assorted snacks and baked goods.

(Alfred is a nightmare to shop for; anything from a pet rock to a chef’s knife made of Damascus steel and beaten gold would be received with the same expression of fond long-suffering. Literally the finest analytical minds in the country still don't know if he's a Coke or a Dr. Pepper man, urgh.)

“Hello, Jason,” Bruce greets him, but his eyes are stuck fast on Alfred, calculating and hesitant.

“Hey, B,” Jason calls back, and takes the time to enjoy the sight of the big bad Batman mousily scurrying into the kitchen as he tries to gauge Alfred’s mood. “Went shopping, huh?”

“Just a few things.” Bruce carefully puts the bag on the kitchen counter and stops there, glancing at Alfred’s back warily. “It’s good to see you.”

Where Jason’s stood he can make out Alfred’s extremely indulgent smile, and it’s pretty clear he’s dragging the moment out to let Bruce stew a little. It’s a pretty worthwhile activity, so Jason just goes along with it, even though he can see Bruce tensing up as he sees the endless platters of dumplings and immediately Understands what sort of day Alfred’s been having. “Same, I guess. Your hand okay?”

That perks B right up. In a slightly too-loud voice, like he wants to make sure Alfred hears him, he says, “Could be worse. Leslie had me fixed up, and she’s putting me on strict rest for a week.” Another cautious peek at the stern line of Alfred’s back. “Doctor’s orders, and I have some investigative work to catch up with anyways, so Dick is stepping in for me for a few days.”

Christ, the peace offering couldn’t be made any more blatant if Bruce had come complete with a fruit basket and a Hallmark card of a sad-looking lamb. Jason almost wants to laugh, but he’s starting to feel a bit bad about the surreptitious glances, the uncertain line of the lip. Everyone’s been there, right? Done something a bit dumb and hurt somebody important, unwilling or unable to apologise, and when you try to make up for it it’s just butterflies-in-stomach and cheek-chewing until the other person gives a clear sign that it’s okay, it’s okay, Jaybird, I’m not upset about the car, I’m just glad you’re safe -

Nostalgia’s heavier in the air than the smell of fresh-fried potstickers. Lucky, though, that kindness is probably something you pick up from your parents too, because by the time Jason comes back to the moment Alfred’s already turned to face Bruce, an ice pack in hand. “I am delighted to hear it, sir,” Alfred tells him stiffly, but is gentle as anything as he leads Bruce to a kitchen chair and helps him ice his swollen hand.

The relief that takes over Bruce’s entire face when Alfred finally talks to him is eye-watering in its vulnerability, and the way he melts into the chair under the slightest bit of fussing is, honestly, equal parts sweet and sad.

Alfred must be similarly moved, because he procures a cushion out of thin air for Bruce to rest his arm on so that he can be free of the sling, and takes a moment to just stand there and brush dark hair away from a worn-out face. Bruce is out of it enough that he’s got his eyes closed and he’s just enjoying the careful touch, and Jason wants to scream a little, because how was Alfred surprised he grew up into an okay kind of guy when this was the standard the household set?

“Good man,” Alfred says, and maybe it’s in response to following Dr. Thompkins orders, but it’s pretty hard to misread that really, he just means 'good' in every way a man can be good when he looks at a half-asleep Bruce like that. “I’ll put the kettle on, and you can nibble on some pierogies while we wait for the family to gather, Master Bruce.”

That wakes Bruce right back up. “Are they-”

“Filled with cheese and potatoes, sir, of course. Why would I make anything but your favourite?” Alfred sniffs like he’s offended, but he’s still smiling as he pats Bruce on the shoulder before heading back to counter and Bruce’s bag of apologroceries.

He fishes out a beautiful red-and-white bakery box, and looks legitimately impressed. “Oh, my, Master Bruce. How did you find Bakewell tarts in Gotham? I haven’t had any in years, and I must confess to being partial to them.”

“Cross-referenced the ingredients of every perishable snack item available in the UK against the fresh produce that you buy often enough to be a statistically significant indicator of preference,” Bruce says around a yawn, like he’s not being absolutely insane right now. “Sorted it into an alphabetized list and sourced them from across the tri-state area. Letters A through to J are in that bag, but-,” another yawn, like Alfred and pierogies are the only thing keeping him going, “-but I’m glad I found you something you liked, Alfred.”

Jason just sits there, committing to memory that Alfie likes whatever the hell a Bakewell is, that he also somehow managed to make an entire dumpling series without Jason noticing, that Bruce fuckin’ Wayne’s favourite dump has cheesy mash stuffing, and that this is how to show care and affection when words are damn hard to get out. He sighs, because he has to fucking sigh, because now he’s so goddamn stricken over how love is inherent in groceries, and it’s so embarrassing how he absolutely, 100% would obliterate a nation in the name of the two men in this quiet little kitchen in the cursed year of our Lord, 2020.

When Alfred does return from the stove bearing a plate of piping hot pierogies for Bruce and gyoza for Jason, he feels OP enough to rip into the throat of the cruelty inherent in this world with his bare fucking teeth, and right after dinner, he really fucking will.

(Revolution and family both run love and carbohydrates, and you can quote him on that).

a/n: i don’t legitimately think anybody reads fic on tumblr bc i definitely loathe doing it so i mostly just write this to 1. soundboard myself and 2. wish that you’re doing okay just in case you did make it here. what a year of agonies, but the hope is that it’ll be 2021 and when you look back you think, oh, those were growing pains, and the world is tangibly better for having weathered it.

that’s the hope.

#batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #jay & alfie #alfie & b #batfam #spoilers: this is just several thousand words of me thinking about what it means to look out for someone you care about #god cannot believe i went down the bathole and it's not the tech or the detectiving or the fighting that got me #it's just me consistently crying over the concept of familial bonds

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bearly-writing · 4 years

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Very brief Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne Characters: Slade Wilson, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: SladeRobin Weekend Mini-Event 2020, Day 3: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha Slade Wilson, Alpha Jason Todd, Omega Dick Grayson, Blood and Injury, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Biting, Knotting, Hurt Jason Todd, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Rape Aftermath, Vomiting, Dissociation, Protective Bruce Wayne Series: Part 3 of SladeRobin Weekend 2020, Part 2 of Jason Rare Pair Challenge Summary:

"When Slade rolls back to his feet and glances back at the bed he comes face-to-face with Jason Todd, crouched protectively over Dick, face red with anger. There’s the sudden stink of furious, protective alpha so strong that it makes Slade shudder. Rockets his heart against his chest, and not in the way it should. Because it definitely shouldn’t be shooting heat straight to his dick."

For the SladeRobin Weekend prompt Omegaverse.

Chapter 3 is now up!

Bruce doesn’t think he’s ever driven so fast or so recklessly - even back in the days when he’d been young and stupid, testing the limits of everything he did. He’d been at the office when Dick had called, wanting a break from the oppressive emptiness of the manor. Not that it was totally empty of course, Damian was there, Cassandra and Alfred and Ace, too. But Dick, conspicuously, wasn’t. Even though he’s in heat. Even though the manor is where he’s supposed to be.

Then Dick had called him - something Bruce hadn’t been expecting for another week at least, given the way they had left it - and before he’d even picked up, he had known something was wrong. It had slid into his gut like a snake, cold and uncomfortable.

He’d been right. When he had picked up, Dick had been crying. Not just crying, sobbing, whimpering on every exhale. And Bruce’s protective alpha instincts had surged up on him like a tidal wave. As much as Bruce has always tried not to treat Dick differently, he’s still the pack’s only omega, and knowing he’s hurting, hearing him cry on the other end of the phone and not being close enough to help him, knowing he’s in heat, well...Bruce is actually quite proud of the way he restrained himself. Not many alpha’s would have been able to politely excuse themselves before tearing out of the office to get to their omega - their pup.

Bruce parks haphazardly on the street, not caring that he probably shouldn’t leave his nice, expensive car out in the open in Bludhaven of all places, not caring that, technically, he’s not supposed to know the location of his son’s most-used safehouse. Dick hadn’t volunteered his address, but Bruce doubts he’ll be surprised to see him. And Bruce honestly doesn’t care if he is. All Bruce can think is that he needs to get inside. He needs to get to Dick.

There aren’t many things that could bring Dick to call Bruce, hysterical, in the middle of his heat, despite the ferocious argument they’d had just a few days earlier. Any other time, Bruce might think he was injured badly on patrol or one of the family was hurt or, God-forbid, someone was dead. Knowing Dick is in heat though, Bruce’s stupid alpha brain can only think of one thing.

No. Bruce tries to force that thought aside as he skids into the apartment lobby and heads up, taking the stairs two at a time. Bruce doesn’t want to think that. Not about his son. Not about Dick. Instead, he focuses on counting each flight of stairs as he sprints up them. He isn’t in the Batman uniform - hadn’t had the time or the presence of mind to think about changing - but it’s not like anyone stops him, anyway. In Bludhaven, just as in Gotham, people learn pretty quickly to mind their own business. And Bruce knows that he stinks of furious alpha. There aren’t many people who would be willing to risk confronting him.

The door to Dick’s apartment is ajar and that alone is enough to freeze the breath in Bruce’s lungs. Before he can think better about it, Bruce shoulders his way in. If he was in a better headspace, more in control of himself, Bruce might have been more careful about it. He might have stopped to take stock of the situation, to get a little bit of a clue as to what might be waiting for him on the other side.

Right now, though, Bruce is just desperate to get to his pup, and the door is just another thing standing in his way.

As soon as Bruce steps into the room, the scent hits him like a brick wall. It’s such a strong, confusing mix of smells, that at first, Bruce can’t pick any particular one out of the bunch. He has to pause in the doorway, breathing shallowly for a few moments, to get his bearing and then -

Fear. It’s the strongest scent in the room, sharp and metallic and thick on Bruce’s tongue. And not just from Dick - Bruce smells Jason in there too, the slightly more acidic quality telling him that his second son was here, and he was just as afraid as Dick.

If Bruce’s stomach wasn’t already churning, that would set it off. He hadn’t known that Jason was here, although he probably should have guessed. Dick isn’t stupid or desperate enough to spend a heat entirely alone. He must have invited Jason here to help him through it - an acceptable pack alpha to replace the protection Bruce should have provided. Then something had happened - something to explain the strength of the fear in the air, the metallic scent of blood and pain.

It’s not hard to guess what. Even if Bruce’s alpha brain hadn’t immediately jumped to that conclusion, the heavy smell of arousal that runs like a current under the fog of fear would tip him off. It isn’t just Dick’s caramel heat scent that Bruce would expect - that should be the only arousal Bruce can smell in a room where his son is in the middle of his heat - although Bruce can smell that too. It’s heavier, thicker, unfamiliar. An alpha that isn’t pack.

Oh God. Thinking it and knowing it are two utterly different things. And with the nauseating mix of alpha and omega arousal and fear and pain and blood, Bruce is confronted with knowing. Knowing that his son has been raped.

Bruce’s stomach flips. His throat aches. It feels as though the vacuum of his chest has sucked all of his organs up behind his ribs. He thinks he might vomit, if he could unlock his jaw far enough to let the bile in his throat surge out. He knows, distantly, that his own scent is flaring through the room, sharp with fury and grief, but all he can smell is Dick. The familiar scent of his son twisted into something awful.

He needs to find him. He needs to help him.

But, at first glance, the room is empty. It’s not a particularly large room - a studio apartment with a basic kitchen at one end and a bed at the other. Bruce’s eyes catch on that and stick. Before he can think better of it, he’s moving forward on wooden legs until he’s standing right over it.

The smell is stronger than ever here and it isn’t hard to figure out why. There’s a little puddle of vomit just beside the bed. The sheets are rumpled and twisted. A pair of metal cuffs are tangled around the bars of the headboard - and Bruce’s stomach does another queasy somersault at that. But worse than that - worst of all - are the bright spots of blood littering the white sheets and the bleachy stink of semen that Bruce can’t help but inhale this close. He smells slick too, a small damp patch on the mattress, and has to close his eyes and breathe shallowly for a few seconds to get a hold of himself before he can force himself to turn back to the rest of the room.

“Dick?” he calls, low and soft but loud enough to carry through the small apartment. A rumble rises through his chest after it, an attempt to comfort the distressed omega. “It’s Bruce, son. I’m here.”

A whine splits the air in response. The sound has Bruce’s heart leaping in his throat and he turns automatically towards the source. A cupboard. Dick has hidden himself in one of the cupboards - an emergency nest if Bruce had to guess - and it’s not uncommon omega behaviour to find somewhere small and dark to hide in when distressed, but it makes Bruce’s chest hurt anyway.

It only takes a few long steps to get to the cupboard door and Bruce can tell by the concentration of smell that both Dick and Jason are in there. It had been Dick who had called him, earlier, despite his clear distress, and suddenly, Bruce is afraid of what that means. If Dick was in trouble, he knows Jason would sacrifice his pride to call their alpha, so why hadn’t he? Why had Dick had to be the one to get in contact with him?

Some of the blood in the air is definitely Jason’s - some of the fear and pain, too. Is Jason hurt? Too hurt to make the phone call himself? Was he injured trying to protect Dick?

The thought almost has him ripping the door off its hinges. Thankfully, he controls himself just in time. Bruce is their pack alpha, familiar and, hopefully, comforting, but the last thing he wants to do is scare either of his sons by ripping open the safe space they’ve created. Blundering into Dick’s nest whilst he’s hurt, whilst he’s in heat and terrified and violated is a recipe for disaster.

Instead, he knocks softly to let them know he’s there. “Dick?” he croons, through the wood. “It’s me, sweetheart. Is it OK if I come in?”

There’s another whine, then, soft and shaky, “Alpha?”

That’s all Bruce needs. Rather than ripping the door off, he gently eases it open. As expected, both Dick and Jason are huddled inside, crammed into a haphazard nest, curled around each other. Jason’s head is buried in Dick’s throat, his face hidden from Bruce. The smell of blood is almost overwhelming in the confined space. Bruce can see it gleaming wetly on Dick’s neck - not enough to explain the strength of the smell, but enough to have his stomach clenching. He doesn’t want to think about where the rest of it has come from.

“Dickie,” Bruce breathes and his oldest son looks up at him, blinking. His face is startlingly pale, his eyes red rimmed and silvery tear tracks streaking down his cheeks. There’s blood around his mouth.

Bruce reaches for him automatically but Dick recoils, snarling, his arms tightening around Jason hard enough to force a small noise of pain from the alpha. Bruce snatches his hand back. It hurts to have his son react to him like that, but he understands it. He’s not sure if Dick is even truly aware of his surroundings.

So he crouches, to ensure he isn’t looming over them, to make himself smaller and less threatening. Dick’s eyes follow him as he lowers himself. Bruce holds his hands up placatingly and starts a low rumble from deep in his chest.

Dick blinks. Then he keens, listing towards Bruce. Instinctively, Bruce catches him, leaning half-into the cupboard to get an arm around him and press him gently against his chest. Dick goes limp, although he doesn’t relinquish his grip on Jason. Turns his face up to snuffle over the scent gland beneath Bruce’s jaw and Bruce responds with a fierce scenting of his own. Dick smells...he smells like Bruce needs to tear someone apart - the warm scent of caramel curdled with fear, the stench of an aroused alpha all over him. Bruce scrubs his cheek over Dick’s in an attempt to spread his own protective alpha scent. Licks at the tears on his cheeks. Sniffs at the wet wound on his neck - a bite inflicted by the alpha who attacked him, undoubtedly. The thought sends icy prickles over Bruce’s skin. He recognises an attempt to claim and subdue an omega when he sees one.

“B,” Dick murmurs, small and strangled.

“I’m here,” Bruce rumbles, clutching his son tighter. “I’m here now. Where are you hurt, Dick? What happened?”

Dick shakes his head, pressing his face harder into Bruce’s throat. “Not me,” he mumbles. “Jason. He -“ a shuddering, half-sobbing breath. “He hurt Jason.”

Bruce’s blood runs cold. He’d been so focussed on Dick he’d almost forgotten, for a moment, that Jason was here, that he’s injured. He pulls back a little, shifting his focus to his younger son. Jason has barely reacted to his presence, his face still pressed against Dick. Now that he’s looking, Bruce can see blood smeared across his neck too, weeping from the ragged wound torn into his throat. The result of a battle for dominance with the alpha who had attacked Dick? It’s a brutal wound. Easily bad enough to cause permanent damage.

Bruce pushes that thought aside before it can choke him. “OK,” he says instead, voice surprisingly steady. “Let me take a look, Jay.”

Jason picks his head up at that and if Bruce had thought Dick looked bad, Jason somehow manages to look worse. The wound on his neck, now Bruce can see it better, looks as if someone had honestly tried to tear his son’s throat out and a red mark spreads across his jaw where he’s clearly been hit. He’s shirtless (Why? Some sort of powerplay from the alpha that nearly tore his fucking throat out?) blood trickling over his bare skin, bruises forming dark shadows up his ribs. There are tears streaking over his face, too, and his eyes are shiny and glazed.

“B?” he slurs. He looks between Bruce and his brother, blinking slowly. Too slowly. If his scent gland has been totally destroyed… “I told you not to call him, Dickhead.”

That hurts, a sharp sting in Bruce’s chest. He knows he and Jason don’t always get on but he thought they were close enough that his son would come to him if he was in danger. And if not, he’d hope that he would call, at least for Dick’s sake. Why would Jason want to stop Dick from contacting him? When they’re both clearly in so much distress?

“I know Jay,” Dick croons, soothingly, all classic omega. “I’m sorry. You need - we need -”

Bruce has the sudden, sinking feeling that he’s misread this somehow. That there’s something he doesn’t understand. He swallows against the sudden lump in his throat.

“OK, well, I’m here now. Are you injured? Let’s get you out of the nest so I can take a look.”

It takes a little maneuvering to get them both out. The nest is barely big enough for two and Jason hisses in pain with almost every movement, stiff and uncooperative. Still, Bruce carefully frees him, pulling him up against his chest so that he can scent Jason too, as Dick climbs out after him.

At first glance, there are no obvious wounds, beside the bites on both of their necks and the bruises already forming on Jason’s jaw and ribs and webbing across Dick’s throat. When Dick reaches out to brush Jason’s curls away from his damp face, Bruce catches sight of his wrists - rubbed raw and oozing blood, no doubt from fighting against the cuffs Bruce had seen on the bed. There’s a dark stain spread across Dick’s thighs, too, and Bruce has to close his eyes and bury his face in Jason’s hair to try to fight back the bile rising in his throat.

Except, that doesn’t really help. Because Jason stinks of aroused alpha - far more than Bruce would expect, even if Jason had fought Dick’s attacker hand-to-hand and been overpowered. When Bruce shifts to scent him properly, rubbing their faces together, he gets a whiff of alpha claim - of blood and, worst of all, semen.

Jason pushes weakly at his chest, growling. “I ain’t a pup, old man.” But he doesn’t pull away and Bruce can feel the heave of his ribs as he huffs his alpha’s scent.

Dick leans closer too, plastering himself against Bruce’s side and burying his nose in his neck.

“What happened?” Bruce growls through his half-closed throat, again, trying to understand. “Where are you injured? What happened?”

“Slade,” Dick starts, then cuts off with a little whimper when Bruce snarls.

Slade Wilson. Bruce should have recognised the scent. He should have known. Slade has always been...inappropriately interested in Dick. Before this, Bruce had always brushed it off as simply an intimidation tactic, knowing his son can take care of himself.

Clearly, he shouldn’t have. Because now he’s confronted with the fact that Slade Wilson has raped Dick - Bruce’s son. Bruce’s pup. Somehow, he’d broken into Dick’s den whilst the omega was in heat, vulnerable without the protection of his pack alpha. He’d fought Jason, hurt him, before tying Dick to the bed with those awful cuffs. Then he’d raped Bruce’s son.

Bruce can practically feel his scent flaring, so thick it’s almost physical as fury burns like fire through his veins. His throat is so swollen he can barely even loose a growl.

Despite the bloom of scent, or perhaps because of it, Dick takes a shaky breath before continuing. “Slade he - he knotted him. It’s bad, B, he’s lost a lot of blood.”

What? Bruce’s heart skips a beat. Knotted him? Knotted Jason? That’s not at all what Bruce was expecting to hear. That’s not possible. Jason is an alpha. Alphas can't...alphas don’t…

Except, he knows that alphas can and do better than anyone. Bruce has been Batman long enough to have seen almost anything. He knows alphas can be raped just as much as omegas can. He’s seen the aftermath of non consensual knottings before. He knows it can happen - to alphas and omegas. It’s just…

It’s just that it’s Dick who’s in heat. It’s Dick who Bruce, smelling that gut-curdling mix of alpha and omega arousal, had assumed was attacked. Alphas can rape other alphas, sure, but there aren’t many that would pass up an in-heat omega.

Maybe Slade hadn’t. Dick had said he knotted Jason, but that doesn’t mean he left Dick untouched. Had Slade Wilson raped both of Bruce’s sons, whilst he’d been sitting in some stuffy board meeting, utterly unawares? Had he attacked Jason in a sick display of dominance then followed it up by hurting Dick?

Not that it makes it better or worse, which of Bruce’s sons the sick asshole attacked. But Bruce likes to know the facts. He likes to understand exactly what happened. And he feels painfully out of the loop right now. His son is hurt and he doesn’t even know how.

Well, he knows one thing. He knows that Slade had raped Jason. Knotted him. He knows how much damage a knot can do - even to an omega. The stench of blood makes sense, now, despite the lack of obvious sources.

Oh God. Bruce feels cold horror sink through his gut like a stone. He can’t stop himself from pulling Jason closer, tucking his son’s head more firmly beneath his chin to allow him better access to his throat. He scents him again, shakily, and Jason doesn’t complain, even though Bruce knows his scent must be acrid with his protective anger.

Maybe he has lost too much blood. Normally, Jason would never allow himself to be coddled and scented like this. He’s too limp in Bruce’s arms. Too quiet.

“OK,” Bruce says, thickly but surprisingly steady. “OK, we’re going to get you to a doctor, Jay. It’s going to be OK.”

Except, he doesn’t know if it will be OK. He doesn’t actually know what to do. Normally, his mind would be two steps ahead, planning out every contingency, already confident about what he should do and what his next move should be. Now his head feels like it’s filled with static. All his thoughts have narrowed down to the hurt kid in his arms and pressed against his shoulder. He can’t think.

Instinct tells him to take Jason back to the cave, to entrust his care to Alfred and no one else, but the more rational part of his brain tells him that wouldn’t be the best idea. Jason trusts Alfred, probably more than he trusts anyone, but the younger alpha has been hurt so intimately. Even if Bruce is confident Alfred could handle the situation, it’s not a position that either of them need to be put in. Jason won’t want Alfred to see him like that - vulnerable and hurt in such a horrific way - and Bruce finds he doesn’t want that either. There’s nothing shameful about what happened to Jason - Bruce feels ashamed, ashamed of himself and how useless he was, how he let this happen, but that’s a different story - but he can guess how Jason will feel. It will be better to take him to someone more impartial.

They aren’t in their superhero identities and Jason has technically been revived both legally and publicly, so Bruce could take him to the local hospital. The doctors and nurses there would be impartial and Bruce’s money will ensure Jason gets the best care. It’s just...the alpha in Bruce bristles at the idea of strangers touching his son after he’s been hurt so badly. The thought of some random alpha with their hands on Jason, especially when the stink of aroused alpha still clings to Bruce’s son, makes him almost frantic with rage.

So, probably not the hospital then. The last thing Bruce wants to do is freak out on some poor, undeserving Bludhaven doctor just because they’re trying to help and Bruce can’t handle that. And it’s not as if they need a rape kit. Bruce knows exactly who did this and he won’t need the police to help him find justice. It would only mean involving more strangers in Jason’s business and creating the opportunity for his private pain to be aired. Bruce won’t allow that.

Which only really leaves one option.

“Dick, chum, will you call Leslie and let her know what’s happening?”

He feels Dick nod against his neck before taking another steadying breath and pulling away. Stupidly, Bruce misses the weight of him against his side. He wants to drag him back into his arms and hold him tight and soothe away his hurt but Jason is already a heavy weight in his lap and Bruce owes Leslie some warning before presenting her with this.

Jason pushes against his chest again, with more strength this time. “I don’t need Leslie,” he grumbles. “Just take me back to my safehouse and keep Dick company. I’m fine.”

Instinctively, Bruce tightens his arms, although being trapped by a stronger alpha is probably more frightening than comforting for Jason right now. It’s hard not to give in to his desire to hold his pup close, though. It’s more than just pack-alpha instincts - it’s the fact that Jason is his son and when he holds him like this, he might as well be that skinny little twelve-year-old that Bruce had first taken in. He’s taller now, of course, broader and he fits more awkwardly in Bruce’s lap. But when Bruce buries his nose in Jason’s curls, he’s transported years into the past.

Only, in those years in between, Jason has been hurt more terribly than Bruce could have ever imagined.

“If Slade -” and he spits the name out like bile, like poison, “- if he knotted you, Jay, you need to see a doctor. This isn’t something you can pretend didn’t happen. Not if you’re hurt.”

“I’m not fucking hurt,” Jason growls. He pushes away again and, this time, Bruce lets his arms fall limp, not wanting to cage him in. Jason doesn’t make it far, though. Whether because of his injuries or the bites that have been inflicted on him, he only makes it to his knees, whimpering in pain before he falls still, forehead pressed against the carpet. Like this, Bruce can clearly see the dark stain spreading across the back of Jason’s jeans, the smear of red streaked across his own pants where Jason had been pressed into his lap.

Bile surges thick and fast up Bruce’s throat and threatens to choke him. The wave of nausea is so strong that Bruce is afraid he might throw up right there, into his own lap. He’s not sure what sort of noise he makes - something strangled and ugly, no doubt - but Jason echoes it with a thin whine.

As if summoned by the sound, Dick materialises at Jason’s side, wrapping one arm around his back with a confidence that Bruce wishes he felt. “It’s too late now, Little Wing,” he croons, somehow managing to sound reassuring, “Leslie is already setting up. We just have to get you there.”

He throws a pale-faced look over his shoulder and Bruce is suddenly hit by the realisation that Dick might be injured too. That he is injured, if the bite and the bruises are anything to go by. A knot might be easier for an omega to take but that doesn’t mean Dick isn’t hurt.

Jesus, how has Bruce fucked this up so badly? How has he allowed this to happen to his sons? His babies?

“Help me with him,” Dick murmurs and Bruce swallows against his self-loathing to do just that.

Even with the two of them helping Jason, it’s an effort to get him to the car. Jason is difficult and uncooperative, mostly trying to walk on his own even though the hormones from Slade’s bite are clearly making his body hard to control and struggling down the stairs must be hurting him. Dick still stinks of heat and the vulnerability of both of his sons has Bruce so on edge that he feels he might snap. Bludhaven is not the sort of place where Bruce is comfortable having his in-heat omega son out in the stairwell for anyone to smell and with Jason barely able to stand between them, leaking blood and violation with every step, Bruce is keenly aware that his protective alpha scent might not be enough to keep disreputable alphas at bay.

By the time they finally make it to the car - somehow still there and intact - Bruce is trembling with tension. Jason flops into the backseat with a pained grunt, pulling away from Dick when the omega clambers in the other side and tries to drag his brother close. There’ll be blood on the seat by the time they get to Leslie’s clinic, Bruce guesses. Slick too. The thought is not a pleasant one.

His knuckles are white around the wheel as he peels away from the curb and starts the drive back to Gotham at only a slightly less frantic pace than the drive here. In the back seat, he can hear the rasp of Jason’s pained breaths, as well as wet little hitching noises that might be sobs, although he can’t tell which of them they’re coming from.

“Tell me what happened,” Bruce growls, only partly so he doesn’t have to hear those anymore.

There’s a tense silence behind him and Bruce starts to think that maybe Dick won’t answer him. Maybe it’s too painful - too fresh and raw. Maybe Bruce is hurting them by asking. But, God, he wants to know.

No. Not wants, because Bruce has never wanted anything less. Needs. Bruce needs to know what happened.

A heavy breath. Then, in a trembling voice: “It was my fault.”

Bruce’s chest clenches. “Dick -” he tries, but his son cuts him off before he can get the denial out.

“Slade broke into the safehouse. I don’t actually think he was expecting me to be there. Jason was out getting supplies.”

“Shut up, Dick,” Jason snarls. “You don’t need to fucking tell him.”

Bruce watches in the rearview mirror as Dick throws Jason a sorrowful look. His second son is leaning against the window, his arms crossed over his chest, and he meets Bruce’s eyes in the mirror with a glare.

“You don’t,” Bruce agrees, softly, although all he wants to do is shake Dick until the whole story comes rattling out. He won’t force that on Dick though. Not if it’s going to hurt him.

Dick shakes his head. He looks at Jason again and the alpha sets his jaw and turns away, clearly reading the intent in Dick’s face.

“He smelled I was in heat, obviously,” Dick continues, as if there had been no interruption, but he’s staring hard at his hands where they’re folded in his lap. “He...came at me. Scruffed me and handcuffed me to the bed. It was all some stupid powerplay. Slade doesn’t - he doesn’t even likeomegas.”

Bruce hadn’t known that. It doesn’t particularly help, though. Not with the image of that bastard’s hands on Dick’s neck, of him pinning Dick to the bed in his own den while he was in heat and vulnerable.

“Jason got back and -” An awful hitching breath. “They fought. Slade bit him. Then he dragged him over to the bed and pushed him down on top of me and -”

“Shut up!”

Dick falls abruptly silent. Not that Bruce needs him to continue - he can guess exactly what happened next. Slade had raped Jason right on top of Dick. Knotted him. Claimed him. Practically torn his throat out. And then what? Had he raped Dick then, too? Rape isn’t always a matter of sexual orientation, Bruce knows. Even if Slade doesn’t like omegas, it doesn’t mean that Dick was safe.

Not that what Dick had described isn’t horrific enough. Bruce can’t imagine how painful and terrifying that must have been for them both. Is trying very, very hard not to imagine it - Slade Wilson pressing both of his sons into the bed, the smell of Dick’s heat and Slade’s arousal heavy in the air, Jason trapped and helpless between them.

He’s not doing a very good job of it.

The confined air of the car is thick with anger - both his and Jason’s. It’s almost enough to drown out the stench of blood and Slade’s arousal. Almost, but not quite. Bruce grips the steering wheel hard enough that it creaks in protest, staring blankly out of the windshield as Gotham starts to loom into view, and tries to will himself to calm down a little. Flying into a rage right now is not going to help anything.

Still, Bruce can feel his blood burning hot under his skin. His gums itch with the urge to snarl and challenge and bite. If Slade Wilson were here…

Except, he isn’t here, and Bruce will have to save his retribution for when he knows his sons are safe.

“Dick, did he…” he struggles with the words, has to force them out of his throat one-by-one, “did he touch you, too?”

Dick’s answer is immediate. “No. No, he bit me, but he wasn’t interested. Not like that.”

As he says it, something dark flickers across his face that Bruce can’t read. He’ll have to deal with that later, he knows, but for now Bruce lets himself enjoy the relief that blooms tentatively in his chest. It doesn’t change the fact that Dick was hurt. Doesn’t change the horrific thing that happened in that room. Doesn’t change that Slade had raped Jason. But if one of Bruce’s sons was spared this awful violation?

Well, at this point, Bruce will take what he can get.

Tearing down the highway towards Gotham with one son battered and bleeding in the backseat and the other leaking heat and distress into the tiny space of the car, it doesn’t feel like much.

#dc #batman #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #fanfiction #my writing #continuation #rape tw #please check the warnings guys #things with teeth and claws

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jaydicksummerexchange · 4 years

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JAYDICK EXCHANGE: SEPTEMBER 1

[ ❤ Works posted so far! ❤ ]

Apologies for the delay. It was something of a busy day in modland. Here are Tuesday’s fanworks! Please leave a comment and kudos for the author if you enjoy their work. Authors/artists will be revealed September 3rd...ISH!

WE’RE AT 105 EXCHANGE WORKS FOR 2020 WILL IT EVER STOP! All signs point to not anytime soon. Keep them coming folks!

Take your share of buckshot by anonymous for GavotteAndGigue [FIC, Teen, Major Character Death, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: justice league - Freeform, Eldritch, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Time Travel, Gift Fic, Brief and Abridged Batfam

Summary: In which Dick and Jason must relive the worst day of Jason's history to reset the balance of his cosmically perceived unnatural existence.

The Gate Below Gotham by anonymous for stevieraebarnes [FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Serious Injuries, Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood Loss, Missions Gone Wrong, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Jason Todd, Emotional Baggage, Feelings Realization, Developing Relationship, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fanart, Digital Art, JayDick Summer Exchange

Summary: Dick wakes in a cold sweat. No, not sweat. Water. It surges around his limp, aching legs—swelling, rising—and soaks the fabric of his uniform. The water is a frothy grey, smelling of storms and asphalt.

His first thought is: Jason.

Perks by anonymous for pastelfeathers and Lolistar92. [FIC, Explicit, No Warnings, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bodyguard, NO CAPES, Friends With Benefits, Feelings Realization, Jealousy, Get Together, Smut, Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, JayDick Summer Exchange

Summary: "Let's go dooo somethiiing," Dick whines like a small child, shaking Jason's arm.

"We have to stay here until the end of the gala," Jason tells him firmly. He's used to putting up with Dick's whining. It's about ninety percent of his job after all. The other ten percent is trying to keep Dick Grayson out of trouble. Neither aspect of his job is enjoyable.

"Well I saw a closet in the hallway on our way in. We could just disappear for a little break…"

Dick's hands sneak up Jason's arm as he speaks, fingers tightening around firm muscle, and Jason suddenly finds his charge much closer, breath caressing Jason's cheek. Despite the challenges, there were some unexpected perks to this job. Unfortunately on this occasion Dick is just becoming another challenge.

Being a bodyguard for the son of a billionaire is challenging, even if it does come with the added benefit of occasionally getting to tap the best ass in Gotham. What is a poor bodyguard to do when he realizes his affections for his charge go beyond the professional or the physical? Especially when it seems Dick Grayson has tried to duck away from Jason's watch yet again, this time with another man in tow...

Trip Me Headfirst into Freedom by anonymous for Lolistar92 [ART, Teen, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Steampunk Pirates!, Gen or Pre-Slash, BAMF Jason Todd, He's the civilian but gets more action than Dick, hahaha, Civilian Jason Todd, Pirate Dick Grayson, Mercenary Dick Grayson, FanartComic, JayDick Summer Exchange, Treat

Summary: Jason Wayne, son of Lord Wayne, does not, in fact, want to inherit his father's House. Or his trading empire.

Brother, don’t go by anonymous for GavotteAndGigue [FIC, Mature, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Bat Family, Brotherly Love, Explicit Language, Gun Violence, Dark, Angst, Violence, Graphic Threats, Non-Consensual Drug Use, drug use happens off screen, the Joker doing Joker-esque things, See End Notes for Trigger Warning Tags that could be potential spoilers, tags are subject to change

Summary: Someone's dying tonight, the only question is who.

(moon is out) we can dance amidst the silence by anonymous for GavotteAndGigue [ART, Teen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Ballroom Dancing, Tango, Top Dick Grayson, Bottom Jason Todd, Fanart

Summary: Dick and Jason tango. They're very, very good at it.

No one has ever seen Jason dance in public. Wayne family members - who are either clueless or annoyingly cryptic - are consulted, articles are written, conspiracy theories are posted, and Gotham Twitter is abuzz with the newest topic. The general consensus is that he must be terrible at it. Finally fed up with all the ribbing he's been getting, Jason sets out to prove them wrong. Dick helps.

Dolce Vita by anonymous for BehindTheRobinsMask [FIC, Teen, No Warnings, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Honeymoon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Slice of Life, Sightseeing, Set in Rome, Italy, JayDick Summer Exchange, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, no beta we die like men

Summary: Red Hood put down his guns and Nightwing shelved his escrima sticks, as Jason and Dick stole away for their belated honeymoon in the Eternal City.

JayDick sightseeing Rome. That’s it. That’s the fic.

Genre-Savvy: A Novel by Jane Pyne by anonymous for solomanara [General Audiences, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Author Jason Todd, Cover Art, for one of Jason's novels, Jason is a Rom-Com Author, He writes under a pseudonym, Jason Todd is Jane Pyne, Secret Identity, Identity Porn, Fanart

Summary: Jason is a master at juggling multiple identities. There's Jay, the street rat; Jason Todd-Wayne, the (dead) adopted son of Bruce Wayne; Robin, the (dead) Good Soldier (TM); Jason of the League of Assassins; Jason of the All-Caste; Red Hood (2.0), also known as Jason Todd; and... Jane Pyne, moderately successful rom-com novelist whose latest novel just hit the New York Times' best selling list?

This is the cover of that novel.

(you'd think) sure, he's got everything by anonymous for 3isme [ART, Teen, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Underwater, Jason Todd Has Amnesia, mermaid jason todd, Mermaids, Gen or Pre-Slash, Mostly Gen, Fanart

Summary: Prompt from 3isme:

"Humanity escaped to settlements in the bottom of the sea after the world's skies were filled with acid rain. Humans live in clear, underwater domes connected by tunnels that can be sealed off when the ocean breaks in and floods the lives of survivors. Dick spends most of his sparse free time staring out into the ocean, wishing he was as free as the beautiful sea creatures that swim by. One of those creatures swims right up to him, separated by only the pane of the dome. To Dick's astonishment, it has the same face as Jason, someone he thought had drowned four years ago in the flood that destroyed his home."t.

Written In The Stars by anonymous for elwon [Fic, General Audiences, No Warnings Apply, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle Fusion, Magic, Dimension Travel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Build, Wish Fulfillment, Secrets

Summary: Dick Grayson, the wizard of Gotham city, has his fair share of secrets to keep, the biggest one being his reason for running away from his own home, his own family. Jason Todd, the only male warrior of Themyscria, only ever wanted to be by his queen's side and become the strongest warrior in his world. That was until he was sent away. Now, as the paths of these two strangers collide, one desperate to keep running and the other trying to find his way back home, the only way for their wishes to come true is if they help the wayward children, Kon-El and Timothy, in their journey

#2020 jaydick exchange #jaydick exchange #jaydick summer blues #jaydick #dickjay #dick grayson & jason todd

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ibroughtanarsenal · 4 years

Text

guilt trips.

WHO: Jason Todd @thatsjasonfkntodd & Roy Harper @ibroughtanarsenal WHERE: Roy’s apartment WHEN: Backdated to mid-June, 2020 WHAT: Withdrawal isn’t easy

Roy: This was the worst part. It wasn't the final stretch, not even close, but this was right where the worst of it showed up and then stuck around much too long. As prepared as Roy tried to be for it, it was difficult to battle with the frustration and agitation. It didn't help that he'd had no sleep and hadn't been able to eat anything in days. It all took a toll on his mood.

Even though he accepted Dick being there just for the sake of giving Jason a break, he stayed holed up in the bedroom. The sheets were soaked in sweat and he was doing his best not to break down and beg Jason not to make him do this anymore. The only thing that helped was consistently reminding himself that he'd done this before and not died, so he wasn't going to die this time either, but it was difficult to remember when everything hurt. When he did manage to sleep it wasn't longer than ten or twenty minutes, only to wake up feeling as if he'd been hit by a train.

He couldn't be in the bed anymore. His entire body felt like one open nerve and he couldn't be in the bed for long before he was up, this time to run the bath. "Cold," was the only thing he offered as an explanation. Jason: Jason had a little time before the initial conversation with Roy to start mentally prepping himself, and then the day and night before the actual withdrawal symptoms set in. It was...like he remembered, though perhaps worse in a way. He was an adult, he knew the full gravity of what Roy was enduring and what he’d asked him to do. On the other hand, Jason was not fully in it with him alone. Roy had other resources if he needed them, if Jason was somehow wrong about his own ability to deal with the situation. There was a safety net present that hadn’t existed for his mother or for him as a child, even if he’d rejected it. It was still there.

He operated mostly with a quiet resolve, giving Roy distractions, bringing him food that he didn’t want. He remembered that part keenly. Toward the end, his mother had eaten practically nothing. It had been a wonder she’d not died of starvation before the overdose, and it had reached a point where he was feeding her himself. He didn’t want to reach that point with Roy. It wouldn’t. They wouldn’t have to do that.

He’d agreed to let Dick step in for a few hours so that he could get some semblance of sleep himself, even though it was barely fit to be called that. It was restful only in the sense that it would keep him from passing out later. It let him be alert. There was nothing comforting in it. Otherwise, he took care of Roy himself like he said he would.

He’d just stepped into the room with a peanut butter sandwich on a plate, which he sat down by the bed before walking into the bathroom. “Come here,” he motioned with one hand, and once he was able to he had one hand under the hem of Roy’s damp shirt to help pull it over his head. Roy: "I got it." It was hard not to snap at Jason even when he was trying to help. Everything felt much worse than it was supposed to. The guilt and shame weighed more heavily on his shoulders and it made it difficult not to express it, however misplaced it was. It wasn't right and it made him feel even worse. Just a stupid fucking cycle he couldn't break, at least not for the next few days, and he hated how he'd treated Dinah the first time around too.

This time he was more aware of it. He managed to hold much of it back. This wasn't going to be a great experience, they both knew that going in, but he'd do his best to not make it shittier. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be snapping at a nurse in detox instead.

Even the fabric moving against his skin hurt. Roy grimaced, already fumbling to get the rest of his clothes off even though the bathtub wasn't filled yet. He just wanted to feel the hot water so he could stop shaking. His teeth were practically chattering and he could feel it in his bones.

Already he was stepping into the tub so he could feel the heat against his skin. The water wasn't rising enough and he exhaled in frustration, laying his head against the side of the tub as he tried to stop shivering. "Sorry. I'm just..." Jason: Jason held up his hands and took a step back as Roy snapped. He considered telling him to just let him do it, but chose to just save that in case there was a moment worth insisting about later. He couldn’t detox for Roy. If he could have, he would have gladly just absorbed it and done it in his stead, which was not the first time he’d had a thought like that. Nothing worked that way.

As Roy sank down into the water, Jason moved to sit on the edge of the tub. It was a little too narrow and definitely not comfortable, but he didn’t want to keep leaving him by himself. He snatched a washcloth from the side of the sink and dunked it into the water. A second later he squeezed it to wet Roy’s chest and hopefully get more of him warmer. He’d been trying to think of the things he’d done for his mother. Some of them didn’t translate. Not everything about the situation was completely identical, after all. He had come up with one thing, and after repeating the gesture with the cloth a few more times he decided to offer. “I could read to you.” It was better than silence, and there was only so much TV that could be watched. Roy: The hot water was helping for now. Roy felt the icy feeling in his bones fade away and he finally reached over to turn off the water once it realized how high it was getting. There was no way to get lower in the water even though he had the need to submerge himself completely. The air was too cold.

Jason's use of the cloth somehow helped. He focused on the movement of it, not as bothered now by the pins and needles sensation under his skin. It was temporary relief, at least. There wasn't a lot that could distract him from the pain at this point. He'd just have to get through it. "Yeah," he agreed quietly, accepting the suggestion since he knew it would be better than TV and it would also give Jason a task, something he could do that might make him feel more in control of the situation. "Yeah. I have some books." Most of them were on his phone, but he had a couple. Jason: He kept the motion up with the cloth until Roy turned off the water and seemed to be a tiny bit satisfied with it, inasmuch as he could be satisfied with anything right then. “Yeah...I’ll be back in a minute.” There was nothing in the bathroom. Jason and Dick had both swept the place in their own way, getting rid of anything that Roy might be able to use to break the detox. Jason had been less than thrilled to discover the nondescript bottle of alcohol Roy had clearly been hiding for who knew how long. He didn’t want to ask about it, but he suspected that it preceded the heroin. The bathroom was clean, regardless. There wasn’t even mouthwash.

Jason stepped out to find a book, but to do a few other things while Roy was occupied. One of the things he knew they’d need was sheets and blankets. Roy wasn’t exactly the type to keep a bunch of extra sets, so Jason had brought some of his own. The memory of sitting on the floor by a bare, stained mattress with no running water to clean the sheets was not one he cared to repeat. So while Roy was in the bath, Jason changed everything on the bed. He’d do it again the next time Roy got back up for awhile.

When he stepped back into the bathroom a little while later, he had a copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in his hand. “Bed’s clean, if you want, or I can sit in here.” Roy: Roy didn't bother getting up and raiding the bathroom while Jason was gone. He knew him and he knew Dick. Neither of them were stupid. They weren't about to let him have access to anything at a time like this, when it would be tempting to put an end to it. So tempting that he wanted to look just in case, but he didn't move.

By the time Jason came back he didn't want to be in the tub anymore. Even five minutes could sometimes be too long to be in one place. The discomfort made him restless and agitated, eager to move so he could do something. Maybe listening to Jason read would make it easier. "No, I'm done." He exhaled softly and drained the water, already shivering again as he got up and reached for the towel. It felt like too much effort to get dressed, but he knew he had to at least put on some pants. He noticed Jason had changed the sheets and he was grateful to lay down, pressing his face into the pillow and not caring that his hair was making it wet. "What'd you pick?" He asked, his voice muffled. Jason: “Tom Sawyer. Not doing character voices though, so don’t expect authenticity.” Jason let Roy get settled and, since the sheets were clean for the time being, he slid in next to him.

“Still cold?” He wasn’t normally one to offer a lot of physical comfort, not in a doting or soft kind of way, but with everything going on it wasn’t as if he could carry on normally. He wanted Roy close to him, closer to him. Maybe that was selfish. He wasn’t going to press it, and he’d stay on the other side and read the book if that’s what he wanted. Jason wasn’t accustomed to the unexpectedly needy feeling that kept bubbling up. Roy: "Not the same without the voices." It was hard, but Roy managed to maintain some of his sense of humor during this. It came back to him at random moments, a rare instance of levity, but it helped keep him sane. He had to remember that there was something beyond this part. The next few days would take forever and be hell. If he knew there were an end in sight and kept reminding himself of it, then he could stay focused.

He nodded, turning his head so his other was cheek against the pillow. "Yeah. Come closer." It was only a matter of time before he'd need to get up and move around. He wanted to at least enjoy it for as long as he could. Jason: With the book in one hand, Jason moved down beneath the covers and pushed the other pillow over by Roy’s so he could lay next to him. He held out one arm, offering for him to swap the pillow for Jason’s chest. They were not, strictly speaking, the cuddling type. Jason slept close to him, sometimes with an arm around him, but he didn’t often keep his hands all over him just for the sake of it. The circumstances were unique, though, and it might have been more for him than for Roy. It was difficult to tell. He was warm, though.

He cracked open the book a moment later. “You don’t want to hear my southern accent,” he assured him. Even less than Jason wanted to try doing one. Aunt Polly was just going to have to be a 26 year old man from Gotham and like it. Jason made his way down the first page and the second, letting himself focus on the story rather than the room or why they were in it. He’d only had a couple of books to read to his mom, ones he’d checked out from the library and never been able to return, but he’d gone through them many, many times while she was sick. Roy: Shifting the pillow to his other side, Roy moved closer so he could lean against Jason's chest. The close contact might have normally brought him some pain or sensitivity, but the bath had given him some temporary respite. He didn't notice it, not yet at least, and he exhaled softly and closed his eyes. It was comfortable and he hoped it stayed that way for as long as possible. Comfort wasn't a word he could use loosely or easily these days. Even if it were temporary, he wanted to enjoy it. Jason was the only person who'd have been capable of bringing it at a time like this.

"Kinda do," he admitted, smirking at the thought of Jason reading with an actual Southern accent, but the topic was merely a distraction. He didn't want to focus on other things, less pleasant things, and his arm slid more firmly around Jason's waist as he turned his head more against him. "The heavier, the better," he mumbled, his eyes still closed. "I need the dramatic effect so I can actually picture the scene." Jason: Jason rolled his eyes and kept reading, though a couple more pages in he did throw in a little twang. Or some approximation of one. It probably sounded closer to Brad Pitt in Inglorious Basterds than Tom Sawyer, though. “If you tell anyone I did this, I’ll have to smother you with a pillow. Sounds peaceful, but it won’t be.” He couldn’t completely let up and just be soft nursemaid for him.

He made it through the first chapter before he laid the book aside and nodded toward the nightstand where he’d left the sandwich earlier. “You should eat. I know you don’t want to,” he headed that off before Roy could say it, “but it’s worse on an empty stomach.” If he started getting sick, and Jason had no doubt that it was coming, stomach acid was just going to make it harder. Roy: Every time Roy heard Jason add some little twang in his voice, he couldn't help a soft laugh. It definitely didn't sound Southern, but he wasn't exactly an expert, and he was already thinking of ways to make fun of him later. "I'm gonna tell everyone," he teased, ignoring the shivering that was starting to return now that he was out of the tub and back in bed. It didn't matter how many blankets he piled on. He was just as cold as before. It annoyed him.

Food didn't interest him at all and he winced at the suggestion, shaking his head. "Rather not." He felt nauseous more than anything, but it was enough to kill his appetite. If he had to basically starve for the next five days he was fine with that. It wasn't like he hadn't already lost weight during the relapse. All of his clothes were too loose. Jason: For the most part, Jason had let Roy make his own calls. He hadn’t really pushed him on anything, not wanting to chance making him get frustrated enough to give the whole thing up, but he knew there were some things he had to fight on. Food was one of them. “You have to eat something. I got those protein shake things, if that’s easier.” He just wasn’t taking a flat no for an answer. “It’ll help.”

Jason sat up a little more fully, adjusting Roy with him if he stayed there. “It’s gonna get worse soon. The next couple of days.” Roy definitely knew that, but Jason knew it too. “Eat something and try to sleep. I can stay in here if you want me to.” By and large, he’d been sleeping on the couch. He’d one back to the safehouse a couple of times when Dick took over, but mostly he didn’t leave. Roy: Protein shake things sounded just as bad, but Roy reasoned that if he didn't have to actually chew anything then maybe he could fool himself into thinking it wasn't food. "Ugh. You're like a warden." He knew how stubborn Jason could be, though. He had to give into something, even if he didn't want to. "Fine. Something plain."

The words made him scoff softly. "What are you talking about? I feel great." Sometimes he was too sarcastic, but he didn't want to think about how bad it was going to be when right now it felt unbearable. "I've been trying to sleep for hours." He'd keep trying, but he was getting frustrated. It felt impossible. He didn't think Jason would object to giving him some over the counter sleep aid, but he knew it wouldn't do shit. Jason: “Yeah, that’s me. A real hard ass not letting you starve.” He pushed back the blanket and moved to get up before Roy could change his mind. Jason was not above counting sips, either. At the lowest points with his mom, he’d kept track of how many bites she took. Nobody else was going to do it.

“You want to come watch a movie with me then? If you can’t sleep, get away from the bed for awhile.” They were pretty bound to the apartment for obvious reasons, so it was the biggest change of scenery on offer. He walked around to the side of the bed and held his hand out to him. “Or I’ll go back to Tom Sawyer.” He didn’t often find himself grasping at straws, but he knew keeping Roy distracted while he was awake was the best option. Roy: Roy rolled his eyes, but this time he didn't offer a response. It would have been more sarcasm and he had to space it out over the next few days if he wanted Jason to get through this without wanting to kill him.

It was about that time when he had that restless urge to pace around the room. Jason was no longer reading and he had nothing to distract him. A movie could be mind numbing, but they'd had a sufficient break from the TV. And he did feel a little tired. Maybe it would lull him to sleep. "Yeah, okay, so long as it was made in the last decade." He took Jason's hand and pushed himself out of bed. Before letting him go he tightened his grip instead, frowning. "Don't know if you want to stay in here with me, Jaybird. You won't get much sleep." Jason: “I’m not getting much anyway,” he said with a shrug. It didn’t matter whether he was on the couch or back at his place for a few hours. He couldn’t shut his mind down long enough to get more than the bare minimum to function. That was all he needed, but there was no way he was going to be relaxed and well rested through any part of what was going on. He’d had too many dreams about crap he’d not had to think about in fifteen years, if nothing else. “I’m staying.”

He squeezed Roy’s hand before heading into the kitchen. Something plain, he’d said. It only took a couple of minutes to come back with one of the vanilla protein shakes blended up with a banana. He held it out toward Roy and sat down heavily on the corner of the couch, eventually turning on one of the newer Jurassic Park movies when he failed to find anything else remotely interesting.

“I’m gonna make a run out later. Do you want anything?” he asked without looking at him. Dick would take over for him, rather than leave Roy alone so early into everything. Roy: Roy sighed. He didn't like that Jason was losing sleep over him, even though he knew he couldn't do anything about it. The only thing to do was get past this and not let it happen again. That was something he could do. Hopefully he wouldn't act like too much of an asshole in the process. No matter what happened in the past, Jason didn't deserve that.

Nodding silently, he followed him out of the bedroom and went straight for the futon. It seemed much too small all of a sudden. He couldn't get comfortable at first, but when Jason returned with the smoothie he was quick to sit up. His appetite was nonexistent, but he did his best to drink as much of it as possible even though the effort was slow and steady. He watched the movie, but he was barely able to focus on it. Shivering, he closed his eyes after a little while and listened to the dialogue instead, even though he could barely process what they were saying.

A run. That meant Dick was coming over. Roy clenched his jaw and shook his head. "A sledgehammer? That might knock me out a couple hours." Jason: It was a small victory that Roy actually drank that much of a shake. Jason would not have said the first few days had been easy, but Roy at least seemed to be gritting his teeth enough to let him help. That part could have been worse, and he was prepared for it to get that way. Theoretically, at least. Yelling and snapping wasn’t going to be anything new, but if they could avoid it he wasn’t going to complain. Still, he expected the frustration to boil over for Roy at some point or another.

“Got a crowbar? That’ll do it,” Jason said with a little smirk. He had no gauge for how dark was too dark when it came to humor. For him, it was pitch black and fine.

He’d tried to make it so that Dick spent as little time there as possible. He could do it without him, and Roy always seemed more put out by it, but they’d only just got started. He figured he should take the opportunity to breathe when he could. Still, he did hesitate. “I can stay.” Roy: Rolling his eyes, Roy couldn't keep himself from smirking at the terrible joke. "Stop." He flicked Jason's knee and set the smoothie aside. There were a few inches left to go, but he thought he might let him slide. He'd finished most of it. Dark humor didn't bother him, even if the topic was personal, and Jason's death was typically no exception. It bothered him not to joke about things. That was when it got real. Until then, he was happy introducing a little levity. Maybe he'd be able to do the same thing with this in a couple weeks.

Maybe not. He might have to test that out before running with the idea.

"No." Jason needed sleep. Roy didn't want him to stretch himself thin and overdo it, especially because it wasn't going to get any easier from here. "I'm fine. But you better tell Dick I ate. I don't need him trying to guilt me into eating a turkey sandwich again." Jason: “What? I’m only offering to give you what you wanted. I’m being kind.” He glanced briefly toward the glass, but decided there wasn’t enough of it left to make a big deal out of. Roy had drank most of it and semi-willingly, which was really all he was going to push for. They just had to get through two weeks. He wasn’t counting on normalcy, just survival. Jason tended to be more comfortable than Dick with keeping low expectations.

“Does guilting you work?” Dick was an expert at it. That wasn’t really Jason’s tactic, but he was keeping things in his back pocket just in case. Desperate times and all that.

Still, even though he knew he needed to give himself breaks, once he’d hesitated the idea that he shouldn’t leave took root pretty fast. “The futon isn’t that bad.” Roy: “No, it doesn’t.” Yes, it did, but Roy wasn’t going to admit it. He didn’t want Jason to have that kind of ammunition. It was bad enough that Dick could and did use it to his full advantage. The tactic would be ten times more efficient if Jason tried it. He felt guilty just fine on his own. When it was put upon him by other people it tended to magnify the feeling by a thousand.

He wasn’t going to let Jason hang out on the futon and not sleep. That was reserved for him. “Go. Dick hasn’t seen the most recent Jurassic Park anyway. He wouldn’t stop talking about it yesterday.” That was the next movie in this marathon they were on. At least it meant Dick would be somewhat distracted and wouldn’t spend the majority of his visit watching him with concern. Jason: He sincerely doubted that, since Dick had got him to do plenty and Jason knew first hand that guilt was his favored tactic of convincing people something was right. Still, it wasn’t his. He didn’t want more of that particular feeling hanging between them. He harbored enough of it himself for a whole lot of reasons, and he wasn’t going to lay it on Roy. He’d pretty much said so when he and Dick discussed what was going on. He wasn’t forcing or guilting him into anything. “I’ll stick to my undeniable charm then.”

Jason reached for his phone to ask Dick to head that way. He probably already was, but he didn’t want to wait much longer. He preferred sleeping during the day so he could be there at night when things were usually worse. It had always been that way with his mom, and he’d never figured out why. It was like it waited until there was the least chance of finding help.

Aside from occasionally getting into bed next to him or having Roy lay against him, he’d given him space in a physical sense. He hadn’t done much in the way of touching. Roy was sitting close enough right then, however, that Jason did not have to lean far to press his lips against the side of the other’s temple. It was tender in a way that he was often not. “Yeah. I won’t be long.”

#jason todd #roy harper #c: discord

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heroicadventurists · 4 years

Text

Comic Con @ Home panel and exhibitor list (so far)

Source: Comic-Con@Home

Source: SDCC unofficial blog

TV & Movies

American Dad: Ever wanted to learn how to draw one of your favorite AD! characters? Now is your chance, join show Supervising Director, Brent Woods, as he teaches the cast and executive producers how to draw Roger! Grab a sketchbook & pens and learn to draw everyone’s favorite alien alongside Rachael MacFarlane (Hayley), Wendy Schaal (Francine), Scott Grimes (Steve), Dee Bradley Baker (Klaus) and EPs Nic Wegener and Joe Chandler as they chat about the current season and look toward the series’ 300th episode airing on TBS this fall.

[NEW] Archer (July 24 at 5PM PT): with Aisha Tyler, Chris Parnell, Judy Greer, Lucky Yates, Amber Nash, and moderated by Casey Willis.

The Blacklist

Bill & Ted Face the Music: with stars Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves, as well as Wyld Stallyns, Samara Weaving, Brigette Lundy-Paine, William Sadler, and director Dean Parisot and writers Ed Solomon and Chris Matheson. Moderated by Kevin Smith.

[NEW] Blast Off with Disney+’s The Right Stuff (July 25 at 1PM PT).

Bless the Harts: Join the Harts, in quarantine of course, for a Paint & Sip! Watch Kristen Wiig (Jenny Hart), Maya Rudolph (Betty Hart), Ike Barinholtz (Wayne Edwards), Jillian Bell (Violet Hart) and Fortune Feimster (Brenda) with executive producers Phil Lord, Chris Miller and Andy Bobrow try to recreate Bless The Harts characters while chatting about their favorite moments from season one, what they’re looking forward to in season two on FOX this Fall and how they’ve kept busy during quarantine while drinking the show’s favorite drink – boxed wine!

Bob’s Burgers: The Emmy Award-winning animated FOX series “Bob’s Burgers” invites fans into their homes for a virtual panel with all of the laughs and surprises they generally bring to the Indigo Ballroom. Creator and executive producer Loren Bouchard will break news about the upcoming season, and the always entertaining cast including H. Jon Benjamin, John Roberts, Kristen Schaal, Eugene Mirman, Dan Mintz and Larry Murphy will have you howling with laughter with never-before-seen footage, followed by a lively panel discussion and fan Q&A.

Constantine: 15th Anniversary Reunion: with Keanu Reeves, director Francis Lawrence, and Akiva Goldsman.

Crossing Swords: Hulu Original Crossing Swordsfollows Patrick, a good hearted peasant who lands a coveted squire position at the royal castle. His dream job quickly turns into a nightmare when he learns his beloved kingdom is run by a hornet’s nest of horny monarchs, crooks and charlatans. Even worse, Patrick’s valor made him the black sheep in his family, and now his criminal siblings have returned to make his life hell. War, murder, full frontal nudity—who knew brightly colored peg people led such exciting lives? With Scott Mantz, Seth Green, Alanna Ubach, Tara Strong, Yvette Nicole Brown, Adam Pally, Tom Root, John Harvatine IV, and Adam Ray.

A Conversation with Nathan Fillion: Showrunner Alexi Hawley (“The Rookie”) talks with Nathan Fillion (“Firefly,” “Castle,” “The Rookie”) about his career in film and television. With special appearances by Joss Whedon, Alan Tudyk, Gina Torres, Mekia Cox, Molly Quinn, Seamus Dever and Jon Huertas.

Director’s on Directing: with Robert Rodriguez, Colin Trevorrow, and Joseph Kosinski.

The Dragon Prince: with creators Aaron Ehasz and Justin Richmond, as well as voice cast Jack Desena, Paula Burrows, Sasha Rojen, Erik Todd Dellums, Jason Simpson, Jesse Inocalla, and Racquel Belmonte

Duncanville: Join executive producers Mike & Julie Scully, executive producer and star, Amy Poehler, along with stars Ty Burrell, Riki Lindhome, Joy Osmanski, Yassir Lester, Betsy Sodaro and guest stars Rashida Jones and Wiz Khalifa for an exclusive first look at the upcoming second season; returning next Spring on FOX.

Emily the Strange: with creator Rob Reger and illustrator Buzz Parker

Family Guy: Join cast Seth MacFarlane, Alex Borstein, Mila Kunis, Seth Green and executive producers Rich Appel, Alec Sulkin and Kara Vallow from FOX’s hit animated comedy “Family Guy” as we celebrate 350 episodes with a virtual table read! After, we’ll take a look back at some of our favorite moments from the last 18 seasons, plus a special sneak peek at the hilarity and hi-jinx coming up in our 19th season premiering this fall on FOX!

Fear the Walking Dead: Fear the Walking Dead will present a panel for the series’ upcoming sixth season, premiering later this year. Moderated by Hardwick, the panel will feature Gimple, Showrunners and Executive Producers Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg and cast members Lennie James, Alycia Debnam-Carey, Colman Domingo, Danay Garcia, Karen David, Jenna Elfman and Rubén Blades.

G-Loc: with director Tom Paton, and stars Stephen Moyer, Tala Gouveia, Casper Van Dien, and John Rhys-Davies. Moderated by Jacob Oller.

The Goldbergs: with cast members Wendi McLendon-Covey, Sean Giambrone, Troy Gentile, George Segal, Hayley Orrantia, and Sam Lerner

Helstrom: As the son and daughter of a mysterious and powerful serial killer, Hulu Original Helstrom follows Daimon (Tom Austen) and Ana Helstrom (Sydney Lemmon), and their complicated dynamic, as they track down the worst of humanity — each with their own attitude and skills.

HOOPS: The star-studded voice cast of “Hoops,” a new adult animated series for Netflix launching this summer from 20th Century Fox Television (“The Simpsons,” “Family Guy,” “Bob’s Burgers”), gathered for an irreverent-in-the-best-way conversation about coming together to make this show that follows a foul-mouthed high school basketball coach who is sure he’ll hit the big leagues if he can only turn his terrible team around. Voice stars Jake Johnson, Rob Riggle, Ron Funches, Natasha Leggero, Cleo King and A.D. Miles join creator and executive producer Ben Hoffman and moderator/ guest voice star Max Greenfield (Johnson’s former “New Girl” co-star) for a truly wild and hilarious Q&A. Fans will be treated to an exclusive first look at footage from the premiere episode. “Hoops” comes from writer-comedian Ben Hoffman (“The Late Late Show with James Corden,” “Archer”), Phil Lord and Chris Miller (“The Lego Movie”), with animation produced by Bento Box (“Bob’s Burgers”).

Kevin Smith: You know what this is.

LGBTQ Representation on TV: with Jamie Chung (Once Upon A Time), Jamie Clayton (Roswell: New Mexico), Wilson Cruz (Star Trek: Discovery), Tatiana Maslany (Perry Mason, Orphan Black), Anthony Rapp (Star Trek: Discovery), J. August Richards (Council of Dads, Angel, Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Harry Shum, Jr. (Shadowhunters) and Brian Michael Smith (9-1-1: Lone Star). The panel will be moderated by TV Guide Magazine West Coast Bureau Chief Jim Halterman.

[NEW] A Look Inside Marvel’s 616 on Disney+ (July 23 at 1PM PT).

Motherland: Fort Salen: TBA

NEXT: Coming to FOX in Fall 2020, “NEXT” arrives at Comic-Con@Home with a sneak peek of the thrilling opening scene of the propulsive, fact-based thriller about the emergence of a deadly, rogue artificial intelligence that combines pulse-pounding action with an examination of how technology is invading our lives and transforming us in ways we don’t yet understand. “NEXT” stars John Slattery (“Mad Men”) as a Silicon Valley pioneer, who teams with cybercrime agent Fernanda Andrade (“The First”), to fight a villain unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Panelists will include creator and executive producer Manny Coto (“24”), John Slattery, Fernanda Andrade, Michael Mosley (“Ozark”), Jason Butler Harner (“Ozark”) and Eve Harlow (“Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.”) for a fascinating conversation about the new series and how AI and technology infiltrates all of our lives, moderated by Thrillist’s Esther Zuckerman.

NOS4A2: Moderated by Entertainment Weekly’s Clark Collis, the panel will feature Showrunner and Executive Producer Jami O’Brien, Executive Producer Joe Hill and cast member Zachary Quinto.

[NEW] Phineas and Ferb The Movie: Candace Against the Universe (12PM PT).

Rooster Teeth: Yssa Badiola, Torrian Crawford, Barbara Dunkelman, Fiona Nova, Kerry Shawcross, and special guest F.J. DeSanto are going to virtually smack you in the face with exclusive reveals and new information about Recorded by Arizal, Red vs. Blue Zero, RWBY Volume 8, and Transformers War For Cybertron: Siege.

The Simpsons: They’ll never stop The Simpsons!…from appearing at Comic-Con; this time on zoom. Join Al Jean, Matt Selman, David Silverman, Carolyn Omine, Mike B. Anderson and moderator Yeardley Smith. Find out how the show has surmounted social distancing and turbulent times en route to season 32!

Solar Opposites: Your favorite Shlorpians are getting together for Comic-Con at Home! As Hulu’s most-watched original comedy premiere to date, “Solar Opposites” centers around a team of four aliens who escape their exploding home world only to crash land into a move-in ready home in suburban America. They are evenly split on whether Earth is awful or awesome, while protecting the Pupa, a living super computer that will one day evolve into its true form, consume them and terraform the Earth… Join Justin Roiland (“Korvo”), Thomas Middleditch (“Terry”), Sean Giambrone (“Yumyulack”), Mary Mack (“Jesse”) and executive producers Mike McMahan and Josh Bycel for all things “Solar Opposites” including an exclusive clip from the upcoming second season!

Stumptown: with cast members Jake Johnson, Cobie Smulders, and Michael Ealy

TV Guide Magazine’s Fan Favorites: Hale Appleman (The Magicians), Chris Chalk (Gotham, Perry Mason), Robbie Amell (Upload), Kennedy McMann (Nancy Drew), Jeri Ryan (Star Trek: Picard), Richard Harmon (The 100), Lindsey Morgan (The 100), Harvey Guillen (What We Do in the Shadows), and Alex Newell (Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist)

The Walking Dead: The Walking Dead will make its 11th San Diego Comic-Con appearance with a panel spotlighting the Season 10 Finale episode, “A Certain Doom,” which will air as a standalone episode later this year. Moderated by Hardwick, the panel will feature Gimple, Showrunner and Executive Producer Angela Kang, Executive Producer Greg Nicotero, who directed the season finale, and cast members Norman Reedus, Melissa McBride, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Lauren Cohan, Josh McDermitt and Paola Lazaro, among others.

The Walking Dead: World Beyond: The Walking Dead: World Beyond makes its Comic-Con International debut as the third series in wildly successful The Walking Dead Universe. Moderated by Hardwick, the series’ panel will feature Gimple, Showrunner and Executive Producer Matt Negrete and cast members Aliyah Royale, Alexa Mansour, Hal Cumpston, Nicholas Cantu, Nico Tortorella, Julia Ormond and Joe Holt.

[NEW] What We Do in the Shadows (July 25 at 5PM PT): with Kayvan Novak, Matt Berry, Natasia Demetriou, Mark Proksch, Harvey Guillen, Paul Simms, Stefani Robinson, and moderated by Haley Joel Osment.

Wynonna Earp.

COMICS

Celebrating 80 Years of The Spirit: Moderated by Danny Fingeroth.

Decoding the Kirby/Lee Relationship: with Danny Fingeroth.

[NEW] Howard Cruse: The Godfather of Queer Comics.

In Conversation with Robert Kirkman: Creator Robert Kirkman answers fan questions on his titles including THE WALKING DEAD, INVINCIBLE, FIRE POWER, OBLIVION SONG, and more!

[NEW] LGBTQ Comics and Popular Media for Young People.

[NEW] Out in Comics 33: Virtually Yours.

[NEW] Marvel Comics: Next Big Thing: Friday, July 24, 11:00 AM PST

[NEW] MARVEL HQ: Thursday, July 23, 4:00 PM PST

Skybound Presents: Comics & Creators: A panel of Skybound’s comic book creators including Robert Kirkman, the team behind EXCELLENCE, and more come together to discuss their latest projects.

Tribute to Dennis O’Neil: with Danny Fingeroth.

The Wonderful, Horrible History of E.C. Comics: Moderated by Danny Fingeroth.

OTHER

The Art of Collaboration: Duos Behind Top Films, TV Shows, & Video Games.

California Browncoats.

Creative Renaissance: How to Thrive When it’s Hard to Survive. The continued need for social distancing has brought about a creative renaissance in the digital space. Join the conversation with Joe Barrette (Creators, Assemble!), Phil Jimenez (Creators4Comics), Alonso Nunez (Little Fish Comic Book Studio), and Kit Steinaway (Book Industry Charitable Fund) to hear how nonprofit organizations are working with comics creators to support each other and their communities during these challenging times. You will hear about new learning opportunities, collaborations, how to forge new creative friendships in a time of global disconnect and what it means to find your tribe through fandom and shared passion. Moderated by Dan Wood (Comics librarian, EPL).

From Script to Screen: Behind-the-Scenes of Your Favorite Film & TV Shows.

The Future of Entertainment.

GirlsDrawinGirls Presents Industry Professional Women Artists in Quarantine: Balancing Work, Art, Homeschooling, and Life: With Melody Severns, Debbie Mahan, Sherry Delorme, Rehana Khan-Tarin, Aisling Harbert-Phillips, and Christine Chang.

The Legal Geeks.

Making a Living Being Creative: with Lee Kohse, Brendan Hay, Lex Cassar, and Johnny Kolasinski.

Masters of the Illustrated Film Poster.

Music for Animation.

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