#ARKHAM BRUCE LOOK AT HIM JUMP

[oifaaa]

Currently trying to resist the urge to actually draw that self-indulgent DC star wars au I thought up a couple years ago

[hijinxinprogress]

Coffee addict Never sleeps Tim drake ❌ 

Solving cases in his sleep off 87 energy drinks Tim Drake ✅

The coffee addict never sleeps perpetually tired Tim Drake thing is a widely accepted headcanon however that was elementary school tim but after he stayed up for a week straight subsisting entirely on coffee to decipher the bat weekly patrol schedule and how it aligns with rogue attacks/Arkham breakouts, he crashed then when he woke up it was fucking wednesday so he missed his chance to commemorate his discovery with pictures of Robin and he decided that shit would never happen again and made himself an ‘efficient’ sleep schedule so he could run around doing fuck shit, add to his robin shrine, and stay on honor roll bc he was even more pissed to see the gotham gazette had pictures of Robin with an on site interview credited to Vicki Vale (listen bowl cut tim had a one sided beef with vicki vale that included tim judging who gets better pics of the bats but she isn’t even aware that she’s competing with a whole ass child 😭 he’s sitting at the table with a mug of orange juice and looks at the newspaper snorts and goes ‘fucking amateur I could do better’) 

Regularly unsupervised tiny businessman in training Tim ‘Ten hours of uninterrupted sleep?? That’s so inefficient not to mention fucking stupid’ Drake is so pissed he missed getting shots of Robin dropkicking a rogue from 6 six stories up (for absolutely no reason dick just thinks it’s fun) that he just takes at least 3 hour naps every eight hours 😭 he refuses to spend almost half a day sleeping ‘for no reason when he could be doing something productive’ 

And he still does this as a bat but it’s just easier to tell if he didn’t take his nap bc he has less than zero impulse control and he’s just fucking done with everything like the gcpd is terrified bc tim’s saying shit like ‘This guys a fucking moron, I could’ve done this in half the time without killing anyone fucking loser doesn’t he know if you keep them alive you can prolong the torture?’ and ‘you’re like all hysterical and for what 🤨 ‘you blew up 83% of Bristol waah’ stfu and fucking rebuild it?? It’s only rich mfs that live there, it’s just a matter of them opening their fucking wallets’ once a new recruit made the mistake of asking if robin had adult supervision regularly and Tim responded with ‘well if you’re gonna snitch to cps like a little bitch then yeah’ and that cop did snitch so tim fucking doxxed him

Yj has just accepted that sometimes they will find tim in an air vent, on the roof, in one of their closets, or something just fucking knocked out then an alarm will go off and he’ll just get up like nothing happened but for the first couple of months they were probably concerned bc ‘I’ve never seen you sleep?? wtf are you on man’ and Tim’s confused bc ‘I slept next to you this morning wdym??’ and that’s how yj discovers tim sleeps with his eyes open

But one of the worst things about Tim’s ‘time efficient sleep schedule’ nonsense is that it fucking works he’s one of the most well rested and coherent bats even after back to back Arkham breakouts however the absolute worst thing about his sleep schedule is the likelihood of going into the cave and seeing tim staring in a daze but wide eyed yet somehow never blinking at the batcomputer with 57 tabs open on top of being unresponsive and thinking he has a fucking concussion or he’s been replaced but he’s just doing case work while muttering nonsense in his fucking sleep for some reason

[noforkingclue]

Regret (Dick Grayson x reader)

Summary: you wanted to do it but unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you looked at it) he was there to stop you

You glared up at Dick as he tightened the bonds behind your back. He gave you a pained look and sat down on the sofa next to you. A thick silence fell between you, unusual for someone as normally talkative as Dick.

“I’m doing this for you.” he said eventually

“Fuck you.”

He winced. Not because of the language. The rest of the Fam used far worse language than that. Even Damian and he was just a child. No, it was the tone. It was a harsh coldness that it was laced with. He sighed and said,

“I know you’re angry-”

“That’s a fucking understatement.”

“-but this isn’t you.”

You paused at Dick’s words and glanced up at him. He glanced down at you before quickly looking away. You weren’t used to seeing him like this. You were so used to seeing him so confident and alive. Not like this…

“You understand why I want to do it,” you said, “he killed my friend. I can’t just… I can’t just… I can’t.”

“I know.”

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you against him. You rested your head on his lap and Dick rested a hand against your head. Usually you’d find this gesture comforting but not today. Not with your hands tied up. While some people might’ve liked this, you certainly didn’t.

“I don’t want you to do something you can’t take back,” he said, “you continue with this there’s no going back.”

“Are you saying that I’ll be just as bad as the rogues in Arkham.”

“Of course not!”

Dick ran a hand over his face as he gave you a pleading look.

“I’m saying you’re not thinking straight.”

You pressed your face against Dick’s leg and he slowly tilted your chin back up to face him. He brushed a tear off your cheek.

“Bruce and I will find them,” he said, “we’ll make sure they end up in Arkham for what they did.”

“Oh yeah,” you said, “the revolving door of Arkham Asylum. They’ll be out in no time Dick.”

Dick sighed and stood up. Your head flopped back against the cushions and you gave him a pleading look. Dick had put on his mask and you could see him slowly slipping into Nightwing.

“Did you have to tie me up?” you asked

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if I didn’t you’d go out there and do something… unwise.”

“Did you have to tie the knots so tightly?”

“Also yes. You’d just escape otherwise.”

As he moved to the window he gave you one last look. You couldn’t see his eyes behind the mask but you didn’t need to to know what they were saying.

“You’ll be better in the morning,” he said, “you’ll see things more clearly.”

Just before he jumped out of the window you said,

“Maybe Jay is right about some things.”

You regretted it as soon as you said it. Dick’s back stiffened before relaxing. He sighed and shook his head before leaving.

Fuck, you shouldn’t have said it.

Even though you knew it was right.

Fuck.

[tomboy014]

Arkham Security Guard Danny's Backstory Continues!!!

But Dick Grayson isn’t the only Robin Danny knew.

A couple years after they started being friends, Danny (16) hears that Robin is back in Gotham and decides to head over for a visit.  After all, it’s a lot close than Jump City, but when he gets there…

“That’s not Robin.”

Yeah, Dick may or may not have forgotten to tell Danny he’s going by Nightwing now, and instead Danny is left staring down at this kid who looks suspiciously like Dick used to.

Cloning? No.

Kidnapping?  He really hopes not.

Maybe a de-ageing beam?  Always a possibility in this line of work, but no, this is a new Robin.

And Danny’s got to admit, the new Robin is pretty freakin’ adorable.  Dick was still pretty angsty and angry when they met, and after he formed the Teen Titans, was dangerously obsessed with Slade for a while.  But the new Robin is as bright and friendly as his costume with all his “Robin gives me magic” stuff. 

And he’s just. so. WIDDLE!!!  Danny’s still only 16, but he’s finally managed to start growing and has hit a respectable 5’8”, and it’s like when you’re a senior watching the freshmen walk in for the first time.  He’s just so itty bitty! 

But Danny still associates the name Robin with Dick and can’t use it to refer to this new one, yet, so unfortunately, Jason gets stuck with nicknames.  Short nicknames.  Shorty, Short Stuff, Tiny, Shrimp, etc.  Jason is not a fan of Danny.

After their meeting, Danny calls Dick because how could you not tell me you changed your moniker? …And you’re in Bloodhaven, too?!  Dick also needs to vent because he can’t BELIEVE Bruce went and replaced him.

Dick… buddy… how long did we try to get you a little sibling?

…

…

I’M A BIG BROTHER!!!!

Otherwise, direct interaction between Jason and Danny is pretty limited.  Danny is Dick’s friend; Jason is just the little brother.  Still, Dick occasionally asks Jason to help Danny study, and Danny will help with pun-filled advice on being a hero.  He’s also pretty good at first aid whenever Jason gets hurt and doesn’t want Alfred to find out it’s because he did something stupid.

After Jason’s death, Danny helped Dick search the Ghost Zone for him to get some closure, both for himself and Batman, but no luck, and tries hard to convince Dick that it’s actually better this way.

When Jason came back after his dip in the Lazarus pit, Danny can smell the corruption and calls in a favor from the Far Frozen.  Without a way to contact Jason, Danny gives medicine to Dick to pass on. 

Outwardly, Jason refuses it and throws Dick out of his place, but behind closed doors, Jason takes it.  It’s a lengthy process, and the side effects suck ass, but all the corrupt ectoplasm and pit madness is purged.  Nothing he needs to tell his family about, though.

When they meet again at the Asylum, Jason was hoping to lord his new height over Danny.  Except Danny kept growing and his 6’8” ass still towers over Jason’s 6’.  The short jokes continue.  However, no short jokes or nicknames are ever directed towards Tim or Damian.  Only Jason.

<<Prev Next>>

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 2 : Oddities and Chills

[𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓, 6:38 𝑷𝑴, 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆-𝑪𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄]

Dante was driving back home after dropping THEE BRUCE WAYNE off at the Wayne Manor which was coincidentally not too far away from the Masters Manor, Dante was humming as he drove home with a few bags of Toys that Danny and Dani will love... He slows down as he approaches the gates and slowly it opened, he shudders as he can imagine Jazz beating the living shit out of him but as long as he can see his two kids smiles he'll be fine. Dante parked his car in the garage and slowly heading towards the doors. As he opens the door with the bags He was greeted by his twins just happily seeing him.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Both Danny and Ellie said in unison as they jumped up to be carried by him, he puts down the bags and cooed on them both who were giggling and hugging him with their small hands. "My cutie Pies." He coos ignoring his sister who was holding the Phantom Creepstick with a smile and letting it bounce on her hand slowly, Dante chuckled slowly and handed the Amused Clockwork(Butler Disguise) the bags of Toys for the twins... "Please take them upstairs and let the twins play with them Clockwork..." Dante smiles nervously and Clockwork Nodded as he told the twins to follow him upstairs.

"Jaz—" Dan was cut off with a Bat to his gut, "UGHK—" He groaned In pain as he leaned further and kneeled on the wall. "I'm sor—" he tried to apologize but Jazz hit him again this time with a Sandal. "WE HAD EXPLICIT RULES!! EXPLICIT FUCKING RULESS!! DANTE!!" She kept hitting him with her sandal "YET YOU HOOK UP! WITH THE PLAYBOY BACHELOR NEXT DOOR?!" Jazz yelled "AH— IM SORRY IM SORRY HE WAS HOT OKAY??" Dante tried to reason but to no avail. Jazz huffed and stood back up in annoyance but she just crossed her arms. "This is so fun to watch." Paulina says as she sat on the couch and watched Dan get beat up whilst drinking milk boba tea.

"WHY IS SHE HERE??!" Dante yelled as he slowly stand up and dusting his suit.. "god this suit smells so much like him—" he kept sniffing his wrist and received a sandal thrown to his face. Paulina laughed, she was only there for girly girls night out stuff with Valerie and Jazz. "You look like a smitten loser Dan.." Valerie chuckled. "Please don't tell me you're Inlove or something—" She glared at Dante and he just smiled cheekily. Jazz sighed in defeat, "Valerie, HunnyBun, And Paulina, Let's go out yes? Girls night out." Jazz composes herself and smiles, she's wearing casual clothes and ready for a night out. "Star and Ember say they're totally coming." Paulina giggled and stood up from the couch and patting Dante's Chest, "Manboobs." Paulina laughed as she went outside.

"Please don't ever call my chest Manboobs ever again... God— that hurts so much— Jazz why—" Dante asks and just curled back up on the floor clutching his gut. "Cuz you fucked A WAYNE! THE MAIN FAMILY BACHELOR OF THE WAYNE!! ARE YOU INSANE?! SHOULD I PUT YOU IN ARKHAM?!" Jazz shook him and Valerie laughed as she calmed Jazz Down. "Calm down Hun, he might not make it until Vlad wakes up, let Vlad do the hitting once the old man wakes up." Jazz sighed at the statement and nodded. "You'll be spared for today. But only because my Girlfriend told me to. capiche?" Jazz drops him. "Can I court him then?" Dante asks shamelessly earning him another sandal to the face on the floor as he laid there. "I'll take that as a Yes!" And Jazz just groaned and Valerie laughing as she led her out.

"Clockwork how did you court my father?" Dante sat up slowly facing Clockwork. "I fought him a lot physically? I do not know how mortals court each other but I seduced your father through sparring." Dante just stared at him and combed his hair. "... Sparring?..." Dante asks hesitantly and Clockwork nodded. "Perhaps ask Ember McLain or that Revenant friend of yours back in crime alley." Clockwork suggests. "Maybe tommorow... Or later this night when the kids are sleeping. Where's Nocturn?" Dante asks as he took off his corset waist coat. "He's with the children playing with them." Clockwork says as he followed Dante. "And Vlad?" Dante sighs in exhaustion. "Still resting and asleep ofcourse." Clockwork answers...

Yeah, Dante would've guessed so. It's been 8 months since the Man's been asleep... When will Vlad wake up? When will his Dad Wake up? Dante shook his head to drown away the negative thoughts and took a deep breathe before going to playroom to play with his kids. Right now his priority is Jazz and the Kids... His precious family.

[𝑾𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓, 9:23 𝑷𝑴]

"Alfred, Father seems Constipated and... Out of touch with reality, is he possesed or...?" Damian motions his hands and slightly tilts his head in confusion. "Master Bruce is not Constipated but he is spacing out Master Damian, It seems that Master Bruce might have fallen for someone again." Alfred chuckled and Bruce just occasionally smirking then shaking his head trying to focus on his work and files. "Hmm.... Who is the person who has seduced my Father Alfred?" Damian whips his head and looked at Alfred who kept chuckling softly. "I heard from Master Bruce that the name of the Other Is Dante Jamie Masters, Master Damian." Alfred said softly, very pleased with Bruce's current state.

"I'll Tell Drake to do a background check on this... Dante." Damian fixes his clothes and walks out heading to the Batcave where Tim Basically Camps. "Drake." Damian says with a serious tone As he slowly walked towards Tim, "What do you want Demon Brat." Tim scowled. "Alfred has told me something Peculiar." Damian started and Tim looked at Damian Curiously and places his mug down. "And what's that?" Tim smirks.

"Father as Alfred Says has fallen... In love... In the early stages of being smitten with someone." Damian states and Tim looked back at the computer. "Name." He demanded

"Dante Jamie Masters. Look up everything about him." Damian demands and Tim complied only out of pure curiousity with a smirk plastered on his face. "Uhm what are you two doing... And why is there a silent truce here?" Dick Grayson asks behind them and Damian looks at him, "Father is in the process of being smitten with someone, specifically a Man." Damian states once again. "... Translation?" Dick asks and Tim sighs "What the Demon Spawn means is that Bruce is falling Inlove with Someone, that's also a man, which is new, since I mean... Selina and Talia— but yes." Tim states as both turned back to the screen.

"Wait wait wait? B? As in Playboy B persona? Or?" Dick asks again trying to process this information. "No. Not the persona this time. Like the actual Bruce. We'll check if he's a clone later." Tim states. "Dante Jamie Masters, Adopted by Vlad Masters when he was 7 years old... Odd the timelines match but there's something weird about it." Tim stared at the screen. "Some text are green. Like. Lazarus Gree—" Tim was cut off by the Burner Computer suddenly shutting down. "What—" Tim tried to power it on again but all it does is show a Lazarus Green Screen. "Alright what the fuck—" Tim was cut off again by Lines Typing itself on the screen and he raised his hands up.

"ץØย'я𝑒 Ø𝐍𝑒 Øⓕ 𝐓𝓱𝑒м.... ץØย'я𝑒 𝐍Ø𝐓 𝐚ᒪᒪØ𝔀𝑒𝓭 𝐓Ø 丂𝑒𝑒 卩𝐚丂𝐓 𝐍Ø𝔀."

"Drake this isn't a prank correct?" Damian squints and throws a glare at Tim and he denied and shook his head, "Uh No Demon Brat, this isn't my doing. Neither would it be steph, she'd make it "preppy" as that woman likes to call it." Tim rolls his eyes and the Computer's System quite literally burst. "Oh. What in the Technological Supernatural Shit just happene—" Tim AGAIN was cut off now by Dick Pulling the two away from the burner laptop and taking them upstairs, "nope. We don't deal with the supernatural kids. That's not our job, that's the JLD and I don't think I can deal with ghosts or something today, neither would I want an eldritch monster, good thing it's just technological right? Yeah yeah— but nope we're leaving that alone." Dick sputtered, "Unhand me Richard! This is utterly despicable and Unmannered of you!" Damian complained.

"Yeah! what the gremlin said!" Tim says as Dick finally let's them go as soon as he assured that they were far from the Batcave entrance. "I'm gonna Call B for that." Dick walked away. "Utterly despicable." Damian huffs as he fixed his hair and clothes again. "Ugh... My thermos is still down there... Whatever he says or asks do not tell him I'm back down there." Tim groans and stretches his slumped back up straight and heading back to the Batcave. Damian sighed in annoyance and checked a mirror if his hair was messed up but fortunately it was not.

Hopefully that Green Screen literally doesn't mess up anything other than Tim Drake's Burner Laptop. Maybe he'll inform Father later when he asks but until then he needs to finish his schoolwork. Damian heads back to his bedroom but felt a chill in his spine creeping. He whips his head around frantically for a moment before standing still hearing for any movements. He didn't hear anything else but a slight paranoia catching up to him as he enters his bedroom and locks the door firmly.

What was that chill? Please let it just be the wind and not something.. supernatural. Dami wouldn't like to be involved in something such as the Unnatural Line Between Life and Death just like the Lazarus Pits. He doesn't want to be involved for now. His gut feeling is telling him not to get involved.

[kadentherabbit]

Jason Todd Blabz!

(Guys I’m actually back istg, Had Arkham Knight Jason in mind since he’s actually my wife)

Fem! Robin reader! ⬇️

He doesn’t actually understand what or who you are when Jason first catches a glimpse of you, Then he sees the familiar colors of his childhood and the cape that follows behind your every movements.

But it’s different, when he sees your face. He doesn’t want to immediately bash your brains in like he would do to Bruce. You’re…You’re cute…! Like very very cute, the way your hair falls over your face when you jump and sneak around.

He notices you sneaking around the militia bases on more than one occasion but he’ll let it slide. Just because he wants to see your face again, but he won’t let it slide for very long.

Until you mess up, then he pounces. Tying you up but not too tight, you’re gonna be okay in his hands. He would never let you get hurt like Bruce let him.

He’s nice to you and it’s very weird…Little touch’s on your face and hair that linger for too long and the way his voice deepens when he speaks to you. He lets you go after a quick interrogation. Waving you off with a pat on the cheek and a little nickname, “his Robin”

You see him more after that, and it starts off on missions together. Helping him out with the small things that would benefit the both of you, you still don’t know who he is, the name “Jason Todd”. Doesn’t ring a bell to you, and he likes it that way, he’s just a guy to you, no more Arkham knight and definitely not the past Robin before you.

Now it’s movie nights, and then he’s ordering dinner for the two of you, lastly he’s buying you stuff. It’s been a few months since you guys really started talking…so his gifts go a long way.

Bracelets that you point out when you two are walking around Gotham, shirts and dresses that you would look great in no matter how skinny or chubby you are.

He’s only ever mean to you when Bruce is around, You don’t get it. You can tell that Jason knows Bruce in a more personal way than he’s letting off, but he won’t budge. You’re his pretty little Robin and nobody, not even Bruce, will ruin that for him.

[anxi04]

Tim meeting Lex at a gala when he’s young. and becoming gossip besties with him

i finally wrote it after it infesting my brain enjoy

——————-

Tim thought the gala was going to be like most of the others, boring, annoying, nothing happening. And then he saw Lex Luthor. And he's a smart man, probably the only other smart person in here so why not start a conversation?

Lex thought this gala was going to be boring and a waste of time. And then this small child comes up to him talking about gossip that he didn't even know? And mentioning his incredibly secret cloning project he just started a week ago? He's going to be a villain and Lex wants to be on his good side.

————————

Tim sighed, annoyed. Gala's have always been incredibly boring, the only slightly fun things that happen at them have been either Bruce Wayne "tripping" over something and drenching someone else with whatever drink or liquid is near, or overhearing gossip, such as Robert Dewitt cheating on his wife with his brother. That was a fun day.

This gala is looking to be about the same as always, just even more boring. Bruce Wayne isn't attending (understandable, The Joker just broke out of Arkham again. He's sure there's a cover story for why Bruce isn't here but he doesn't care about that), no one is drawing attention to any scandals yet, or at least not in his ear range.

The only vaguely interesting thing here is Lex Luthor actually attending it for once. The man usually never spares a moment for anything aside from Metropolis (disgusting) and Superman. So there's at least one other smart person here but he also happens to be a super-villain (not that the general public knows) so… Not like Tim can just walk up to him and talk right?

"So as I was saying it really is quite unfortunate that your son won't take the company, I always thought he was a rather charming young man-" Fuck it Tim's gonna go talk to the super-villain.

"Have you heard about Rebecca Strawling?" Tim asks Lex, who absolutely did NOT jump at this child sneaking up behind him (seriously how did he do that? Even Superman, a man who constantly floats, can't sneak up on him.). Lex blinks for a second because, yes he had and holy shit what a thing that is, and also how does this child know? Also why is this child talking to him?

"That… Depends. What have you heard?" Lex says hesitantly. Despite Rebecca's… everything, she still hid it incredibly well. If Lex wasn't so bored at these gala's he would never have known, so either this child is just incredibly nosy, or possibly an actual smart person in this room. Either option would prove far more interesting than what he had been doing.

"Well I've heard about the several affairs she's had with everyone she claims to hate. Business rivals, the poor, queer people, her husband's family, and if it's to be believed her own family." And… Holy fuck, Lex had not been aware of that last bit. He raises an eyebrow at the ending which prompts a slight grin from the child as he takes his phone out. "I have evidence."

Does Lex actually… Enjoy being near a kid barely in the double digits? Absurd.

"You know Tim, that man over there? He's almost bankrupting his company and family by sending their money to a 'client.' I believe all his business partners are looking for someone to replace his spot." It's been an hour and a half. This is the most entertained Lex has been at one of these in decades. If Tim finds himself following the black hair, blue eyes orphan trend Lex will take him in himself so help him God. He's insanely smart, not only is he excellent at reading people and finding dirt on them easily, he's incredibly skilled at hacking without any proper training on it. This is a villain in the making and Lex will not let himself fall on his bad side.

"Now, I have a moral question for you Tim. What do you think the ethics on making a weapon out of a clone would be?" He's been toying with the idea of cloning Superman lately, however the actual… Making it a weapon has been bothering him. If it comes out an adult man it could easily decide it wants to do something else and rebel, however what would the effects be on making a child weapon that was created for that sole purpose? The effectiveness of it?

"Easy. Don't make the clone a weapon. It's either an adult clone who could choose to be a soldier, and actually listen to you, or decide it won't listen and possibly end up exposing you. If it's a child clone then sure you get a weapon for a few years but not having a choice would end up making them resent you. Give them a choice on it, just like the Sidekicks, like Robin, Kid Flash, Speedy, all them. I'd assume you would want a meta clone anyway and most meta's feel a sense of duty with their abilities so it'd be likely for them to decide something along what you want. Just a matter on if they like you and go with you, or turn to the other side." Tim answers without missing a beat and wow what a concerning sentence that would be to hear from a child if he were anyone else. As it is he's delighted by the response.

"Although cloning a Kryptonian would probably alter it, simply wouldn't get enough material so you would likely have to substitute some of the material for human and at that point use your own and raise the clone as a child." What. That's far too specific. "Oh, sorry I probably should've kept it more broad. Anyway you should update your security systems." Definitely a super-villain in the making. One that he very much wants to be on the good side of. On that note now he needs to update his whole system.

"Ah, Tim I'm glad you picked up. I'm a father now! I'd like you to meet my son, his name is Kon-El-"

"Oh, I've already met him. You actually interrupted our call. Kinda late on telling me." Of course.

"You know I could adopt you as well, get you from that bumbling buffoon that is Wayne."

"Yeah but then my crush would become incestuous." His what? Know what he can work with this. Tim is joining his family one way or another.

Finally. A moment of peace for Lex to sit down, drink some coffee, and watch a rerun of his favorite show. "Luthor!" Oh great, the boy scout here to ruin his plans. Oh and is that his group for comic-con? There's the man of steel himself, Wonder Woman, Batman and… Wait. Oh this will piss Kal-El off to be ignored.

"Timothy! I was just about to call you. You remember Robert Dewitt, correct? You'll never guess what he's done now." Lex grins, standing up. He was meaning to update Tim on this particular… Creature. He's one of their favorites to catch up on, purely because of the absurdity of his debauchery. Although this time does have a reason, after all there's reason for dear old Robert to get locked up this time and he's been making some comments about Lex lately and well he can't just let that slide now can he?

Tim blinks for a second then realizes what Lex just said. "Wait you know? Of course you do why wouldn't you.. Actually wait that doesn't matter what the fuck did Robert do? Last I knew he wasn't allowed outside without an escort so I was expecting longer." Lex has a feeling it does in fact matter very much if the way Batman's eyes narrow and his jaw clench indicate anything. Lex needs to continue on or possibly get put in a hospital.

"Oh he's no longer allowed near animal shelters, so-" Kal-El cuts him off, incredibly rudely if he might add.

"What… What is going on here?" Poor man sounds so confused. Lex is savoring this moment.

"Well I know Timothy Drake is Red Robin. Clearly. Red Robin is the hero closest to becoming a villain which fits Tim quite well, and also Tim is the only Gothamite smart enough to be Red Robin. And infuriating enough to personally annoy Ra's al-Ghul on a regular." It's very simple honestly. Lex has no idea what's making this so complicated. "If it helps make you all feel 'safe' and 'secure' I could tell you about the time Timothy told me he had a crush on Kon-" And now Tim's thrown something at him. What is this, interrupt Lex day?

"Shut up! What if I told them about you and Clark Kent?" Ahh, expose his crush, get his own crush exposed. Well unfortunately Lex has no shame about that.

"You mean the man who could lift a 200 lb person with no effort? One of the very few good reporters?" Odd that Kal-El's face is getting red and confused but oh well. "Honestly though, who cares. You know Tim my offer for adopting you still stands. I know it must be absurdly easy to hide being Red Robin from your… family. However I think I could be of more assistance still." Batman's hands are clenching now. Interesting. "I mean you made a fake uncle to get out of being adopted by the oaf, I don't know why you didn't just let me." Ah, Batman's hands are unclenched. He must have thought that uncle was also real. Surprising, really, from 'The World's Greatest Detective' however they clearly have the wrong bat. "And does he even know about your missing spleen? Really, I should get him locked up for child neglect. Even I would notice if anything happened to Kon-El."

Tim's eyes widen at that and snap to Batman's equally wide eyes. They both jump into a sprint, Tim leaping out of a window with the Bat close behind. "Oh, did he not know? Oops."

Perfect. Hopefully that'll have been absurd enough that the Justice League leave him alone, and he can watch his show in peace.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Not DDD but some tooth rotting fluff with Dadwing that I had written a while ago.

Dick had always had a kinda 6th sense when it came to Damian, they had been Batman and Robin together, *the* dynamic duo! So he knew when his little brother was upset, more so than usual.

It started after a failed capture, the Riddler had been out of Arkham for over 3 weeks, the longest that he had been out for quite some time.

Bruce had finally found Eddie's hiding spot and was staking him out for some time, trying to determine whether the Riddler was truly there or this was once again a decoy safe house.

Bruce regretfully has the communication skills of a particularly grumpy slug and failed to properly give Damian the brief on what he was doing after joining his father from a round of patrols with Dick.

It really truly wasn't Damian's fault that he rushed in and only really succeeded in flushing out the Riddler and driving him to ground once more.

And once again, Bruce the grumpy slug scowled, let out a grunt and demanded Damian back to the cave, further not explaining why Bruce tried to stop him from taking down the Riddler and why he didn't pursue.

---

Dick was surprised to come out of the locker rooms of the cave to his youngest brother, practically shaking with rage as he not so carefully pulled off his suit, and what was the most concerning to Dick was the quiet, but still angry mutterings coming from the boy.

Dick felt a pang in his chest at the words, his Arabic was not the best but he could tell more than a few foul words slipping from Damians lips, taking a small breath to prepare, Dick slowly approached his little brother, holding his hands up in surrender even before speaking.

"Hey Babybat? Dami? You okay kiddo? What are you-" Dick stopped mid sentence at the scathing glare that was leveled at him, blinking a few times as his brother collected himself enough to speak clearly, but his voice was rough with emotion, and his accent that was usually hidden away came back harder. (Something that Dick realized that Jason and Damian shared, the angrier they are the more they go back to their roots.)

"Do not attempt to placate me Richard, I am not playing your foolish games nor am I wanting to speak of my feelings, so I simply ask you to leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone." At the end the boys words were ground out as he threw down the Robin chest plate and stromed past Dick, heading to the showers.

---

Dick knew it was a little bit risky, but something was clearly upsetting his little brother greatly, so here he was, standing outside of Damians room, letting out a small sigh, Dick softly knocked on the door.

Two short, one long: U

Three long: O

One long, one short, one long: K

Morse code, one of the first no vocal languages that all the birds and the Bats knew, Dick and Damian had used it more than a few times on the field.

The only thing that Dick received from that was a dull thud of something being thrown at the door and the much softer sound of it falling to the floor, but the rest of the room was an inky black.

Letting out a sigh, the oldest of the Wayne children grabbed onto the doorhandle and slowly turning it, pushing the door in as he popped his head in, seeing the sacrificed plush animal laying on the ground where it was thrown

Dick felt guilty being glad it wasn't a knife.

"Dami? Little D? Kiddo I am going to come in..."

Opening the door more, Dick slipped into the dark room, spacial awareness helped Dick circumvent the few basic traps laid around his little brothers room, and made his way over to the boy's bed.

Eyes adjusting to the dark quickly, Dick could see the small outline of his brother shaking under the covers, looking so small in the king-sized bed, sitting on the edge, Dick laid a hand on where he thinks Damians hip is, feeling his heart break a little at the small jump he felt as he did.

"Can you talk to me? Please? I want to help kiddo." The only response he got was a shaky drawn in breath and the form under the blankets shifting, sitting up and revealing his younger brother.

His jade green eyes practically glowed in the dark of the room, Damians glare more tired than angry.

(It was times like these that Dick had to force himself to believe that Damian was just his brother, that the boy was not his son, wasn't the boy he raised for a year and a half as his own)

Shuffling closer to the center of the bed, Dick softly placed his forehead on the boy's own before pulling back after a second, he had learnt that little touches of affection got him a lot farther (and a lot less stabbed) with Damian.

Sitting back Dick watched as Damian crawled over, closing the distance between them and leaned his head onto Dicks shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed as he took in several deep breaths, calming himself even further.

Dick didn't dare move while Damian re-centered only snaking his arms around the smaller boy once he felt Damian go slack against him, softly cradling Damian in his arms as he pressed a soft kiss to the boy's spiky locks.

They stayed that way for a while, Dick gently rocking them both as he held his younger brother, silently waiting for Damian to speak first.

"...Father is an idiot..."

Blinking at the words that finally came out, Dick took it in stride, "For a man that is called the worlds greatest detective he can't see two feet in front of him when his loved ones are involved."

Silence lapsed after a little while, only breaking again as Damian pulled back from the hug, staring into Dicks powder blue eyes,

"...is it bad that some days I hate him Baba?" The words crush him, hitting at Dicks heart far worse than anything he had felt before, throat raw and itchy suddenly, Dick tried to not let Damians choice of words affect him.

(Dick has never heard Dami call Bruce Baba, only a ever respectful Father.)

"I-I, Um...I have felt way about B more than a few times Dames...He tries his best but sometimes...some times I do" There was a shine to Damians eyes as he looked into Dicks as the man continued softly "But I don't think it's bad...no I think you are just growing up...It...it's the beginning to when your seeing B how he can truly be like." (A scornful son of a bitch, only that Martha was a wonderful woman...)

Damians face grew distraught, and the shine pooled until soft tears ran down the boys face, "I do not wish to hate Father, but why can he simply not...speak to me? He has not spoke to me outside of case work for over three days and even during that no more than a few words..." leaning his head against Dicks shoulder, the boy's words were muffled slightly as he continued

"Is...is it wrong to expect more from him Baba?"

Dick didn't have any words for his Damian, because he sure as shit isn't Bruce's at the moment, sweeping the boy up into his arms, Dick hled him close while laying the two of them down, Dick on his back and his boy on his chest.

Running a hand through Damians soft hair, Dick thought hard of what to say, "I will speak to him...and maybe Tim...I know you two still have disagreements but honestly for some reason he listens to Tim more than even Alfred...you deserve so much more than that kiddo..."

Dick felt the soft shakes as Damian cried ontop of him, it broke the man's heart to smithereens that even while overwhelmed by emotions his boy still felt the need to try and be as quiet as possible.

Once he felt Damians shudders slow, an the boys breathing came back to a normal rate, Dick reached into his pants and pulled out his phone, "I think we both gotta unwind a little bud...have I ever shown you Bob Ross?"

---

(They watch till the sun peaks through the black out curtains, well, it plays that long, but the two where asleep for a lot longer than that.)

(Bruce gets a very long talking too by his kids, and gets the cowl taken away from him until he gets therapy)

(It only works a little.)

(He made a new one)

[samgirl98]

Wail of the Silent 11/?

Prev | Next

Jason cuddled closer to the cool, hard chest underneath him. He was, metaphorically, floating in the clouds and content in his bliss.

Then the door to his room opened, and he fell back to Earth.

Jason jumped quickly, a gun in his hands pointing toward the doorway. Danny got up, uncaring that he was completely naked, his hands and eyes glowing green and pointing at the intruder.

“Holy fuck,” Nightwing yelled out, turning his face away, “It’s me, don’t shoot! And are you both naked?”

Jason was already embarrassed, having been caught by his older brother. Then, Batman, fucking Batman, showed up. Someone, please kill him. It would hurt less than this, and Jason would know. He had died once already.

‘Get out,’ he signed, desperate to save his last shred of dignity, ‘haven’t you ever heard of knocking?’

“I’m sorry, Jay, we thought you were in trouble! You were kidnapped in front of Batman by a weird creature after you had almost put a bullet in your head!”

‘Well, you see that I’m fine, get out!’

“We’re sorry—wait, why are you signing?”

Jason dropped his hands, unsure how to explain. He looked at Batman with fear. The longer he stared at the man, the longer the silence lasted, and the more scared Jason became. He could feel his emotions broadcasting from his chest. Only one person in the room could hear him, though.

Danny tied a blanket around his waist and got in front of Jason, effectively hiding him from his family, from his father.

“Jay, why are you signing,” Dick asked again, sounding angry. “Why is there a cut on your throat?”

Because my dad took away my voice! He wanted to tell him, to yell it at him, because our father chose my murderer instead of me, and I paid the price!

“I don’t care who you are. Jason wants you to leave, so leave!”

Danny’s voice was soft, but it carried authority throughout the room. Batman and Nightwing paused; their attention was away from Jason, but it was wholly dedicated to Danny now. Jason felt more nervous for Danny than for himself.

“Who are you,” Batman asked, “I recognize you even if your coloring is different. You’re the one who kidnapped Jason,” Batman growled.

Jason left the safety of Danny’s protection and signed at Batman angrily, ‘Don’t you dare! Danny saved me from that bitch and myself. If it hadn’t been for him, my brains would’ve been painting the walls of Arkham.’

Both Nightwing and Batman flinched at the reminder that Jason had almost killed himself.

“Jay lad,” Batman started saying.

Jason cut him off quickly.

‘Get out, we’ll be there soon.’

Batman and Nightwing hesitated.

‘Seriously, I don’t want to get dressed in front of you two. If you want answers, then wait in the living room. Or leave, that’d be better for me.’

“Jason, you were targeted by an unknown. We are not leaving,” Batman growled.

Batman nodded and turned away from them. Nightwing stared at Jason’s cut, making him feel more vulnerable than his nakedness. He wished that Batman’s greatest success hadn’t seen Batman’s greatest failure at his most vulnerable.

Jason saw Nightwing’s jaw clench before he left.

As soon as the door slammed behind Nightwing, Jason fell to his knees, tired and scared. Silent tears fell down his cheeks. He opened his mouth and gave a silent scream.

Before he could lose himself, Jason felt cool arms around his shoulders and a strong chest on his back. Danny’s core was humming, comforting Jason.

Jason let Danny do it. After all, he wasn’t alone anymore.

____

Dick turned Bruce around and punched square on the face. The older man fell in the middle of the living room.

Dick was livid.

Batarangs left a particular slice behind that could not be replicated by any other weapon on Earth. Even if that wasn’t the case, Jason’s reaction when Dick had asked who had given him that scar told Dick everything.

“Nightwi—ugh,” Dick didn’t let Bruce finish. He didn’t deserve to explain himself. Bruce had hurt his younger brother and had taken away his voice. Dick saw how deep the cut was. It was only by some miracle that Jason wasn’t dead!

“You arrogant bastard, why? Why?”

The punches and kicks kept raining down on Bruce. The tears that hit the exposed part of his face hurt more than any of the hits that Dick was giving him. He had not only hurt Jason, but Dick, too. After a while, Dick stopped the punches and fell on the floor beside Bruce.

“Damn you, old man,” he whispered, “damn you.”

Bruce knew explaining himself would worsen things, but he had to, “He was making me choose between killing the Joker or killing him. I chose the option to keep both of them alive.”

Dick looked at Bruce with renewed anger, “Get out.”

“Dick,” Bruce said.

“Get out, now! Or I swear to everything sacred that I will ignore your damned rule and kill you myself!”

“Dick,” He tried again.

“Don’t make me a murderer, Bruce. Leave now! I’ll take care of Jason.”

Bruce didn’t want to leave. Jason was with an unknown. Someone or something was chasing him, causing him to want to kill himself. Bruce had to take care of his son.

Bruce got up and left out the window. He looked back one last time. Dick had turned his back to him. It hurt Bruce, but he understood. He had hurt his sons. His children were in pain because of him.

Bruce could only hope that they would be safe.

No, he would do his part to find and eliminate this threat. Batman would not let his children or Gotham down.

Dick heard the window close. Words could not describe the turmoil of emotions he was feeling.

He knew Bruce wasn’t perfect. He found that out very quickly, fuck, he still remembered the punch to his face when Bruce had been grief-stricken over Jason’s death. So, how could he have put the vilest man to ever live over the son he had lost and gotten back?

Dick didn’t know, and he didn’t honestly care to know.

Besides, he had a younger brother to take care of.

But first, “Oracle, send this message to every comm even if they’re off.”

Something in his tone must have told Barbara that Dick wasn’t messing around because she did so with no hesitation.

The family deserved to know what Bruce had done.

Pissed off and protective Dick, my beloved.

I don't think Jason is going to appreciate Dick for telling the family what happened, but at least the family knows what Bruce did and gets to decide if they want to follow Bruce or not.

[libraryofgage]

Harlequin Prince (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen ClarisseRenaldi One | Two

This part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Ironically, even tho the post says about a week of turn around, I get so excited that somebody wants to line jump that I just write it immediately lmao

Steve finally gets a good fight in this one, but it ends way too soon the poor boy. Either way, he also gets to meet some of the party!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

-------

Steve knew his dad wasn't in the picture, but he never knew why. He never asked, but he started to get this horrible feeling after a while. Harley Quinn's past was well known to Steve, her previous...associate and her relationship with him isn't exactly a secret, no matter how much his mother tried to keep them from him. She couldn't protect him at school, and she couldn't protect him from hearing people talking on the streets.

So, yeah, from the age of nine, Steve walked around with this horrendous knowledge in his gut, a knowledge that he wanted to think was just him being paranoid. But it wasn't. He knew it wasn't. He just couldn't admit that to himself, and he couldn't ask his mother because he didn't want to send her down that particular lane of memories. So it festered, and Steve pretended it didn't exist at all.

Until, that is, his 13th birthday. It was held at Uncle Bruce's mansion because his mother wanted to go all out. It was as much a celebration for her (a full three years without getting sent to Arkham!) as it was for him (managing to stay alive for 13 years in Gotham with Harley Quinn for a mother). Steve hadn't minded, either, especially when he saw the absolute joy she had when picking out the hugest bounce-house she could find with Uncle Bruce's sleek black credit card.

The party was catered by Steve's favorite Indian restaurant, the guests were limited to immediate friends and family, the bounce-house was extra bouncy, and a table was practically buckling under the weight of the gifts piled on top of it. It was, by far, Steve's best birthday, surpassing even the one he spent in Arkham after letting Poison Ivy out of her cell.

"Hey, Dumplin'!" his mother shouted, waving at him from the top of the bounce house she'd managed to climb. When Steve looked at her, she grinned even brighter and jumped, launching off turrets and rolling down sloped walls before landing on her feet on the ground. "Let's get to them presents!"

Steve laughed, looked at the table eagerly, and nodded. Her grin somehow getting wider, Harley turned, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted, "GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR, EVERYONE! STEVIE'S OPENIN' PRESENTS!"

Soon enough, Steve was standing in front of the table, surrounded by everyone, and not at all sure where to start with the mountain of presents. "You should open mine first," Jason said, grinning as he gestured to a bike-shaped package.

It was, in fact, a bike. A motorcycle, specifically, with a red and black helmet and the promise of lessons from Jason whenever he wanted. Steve loved it immediately and ignored Uncle Bruce muttering about driving laws and how Steve couldn't operate any motorized vehicle until he was fifteen. "Well," he said, "as long as I don't get caught by Batman, who's gonna know?"

That had earned him a laugh and his mother's hand ruffling his hair. "Go on, Dumplin', choose another."

Dick got him a literal outfit's worth of Wonder Woman merch, accessories included, that made Bruce look ready to pop a blood vessel. Tim gave him small tracking pins and a hacked handheld game console to watch the trackers with the promise of free upgrades anytime he wanted. Damien gave him daggers since he "wasn't good enough for real swords, but everyone should have a blade" on them, just in case. Cass, Steph, and Barbara pooled their skills together (and Alfred, they borrowed Alfred a lot) to make him an Unofficial Robin costume, complete with shorts only slightly less scandalous than Dick's original costume.

Bruce, when he finally stopped glaring at the three of them, gave Steve a fingerprint panic button shaped like a bat and easily attached to a key ring. "For emergencies, Steve," he said, "Just hold your thumb to it for three seconds."

"This is perfect for the next time we run out of ice cream," Steve said, grinning as he attached it to his key chain.

"Emergencies."

"Oh. So if we run out of mint chip, specifically. Got it."

Bruce merely sighed and let him return to opening gifts.

Alfred gave him a tin of homemade cookies that Steve immediately had to protect from the others. Poison Ivy gave him a Venus flytrap and the promise to help him grow it properly. Selina couldn't be there, but Bruce passed along her gift: a pair of goggles Bruce had handed over with a sigh and quiet request for him to use them responsibly.

Steve opened Duke's present last, eyes widening at the red leather jacket. "Wait, seriously?" he asked, holding it up as he looked at Duke.

"You're gonna be a troublemaker, Steve," Duke said. "Might as well make sure you're bulletproof for it."

Steve grinned wider and pulled on the jacket, swimming in the leather but eager to grow into it all the same.

There was nothing from his mother in the pile, but Steve figured the party itself was his present since she'd done all the planning. When she pulled him away to a secluded room in the manor after they'd all had cake, Steve realized it was just because she didn't want to share this moment with anyone.

She smiled at him, reaching up and gently tucking a few strands of hair behind Steve's ears. "You grew up so fast, Dumplin'," she said, sighing softly.

"Ivy says I'm like a weed."

"Ives is right," Harley said, nodding once before looking away. "Okay, ready for your present?"

"Wasn't the party my present?"

"No, no, Dumplin'. The party was for fun," she said, grinning as she reached behind her and pulled a comically-large mallet from seemingly nowhere. "This is your present."

Steve blinked, leaning over to look around Harley. "Where'd that even come from?" he asked.

"Jester Logic, Dumplin'. Don't worry about it. I'll teach you the trick later," she promised, holding the mallet out to Steve with an expectant expression.

When Steve took it, the weight threw him off. He frowned, shifted his grip, and suddenly had no problem holding it up. He took a closer look, noting the scratches and marks on the mallet and the faded paint. "This was yours," he said.

"Yeah, it was."

"I've never seen it before."

Harley sighed, tugging on one of her pigtails with a slight frown. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly a great person when I used it, Dumplin'. Tried to forget about that Harley and all," she explained.

"Then why give it to me?"

Harley looked back at Steve and smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Cuz you're so much better than me," she said. "I think you'll do some great things, Dumplin', and maybe all the good you do will erase most of the bad this mallet's got."

Her words were so serious, her smile was so bittersweet, and she looked ready to cry and deny it. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to learning about her past straight from the source, a past he knew about it, a past that involved a certain person that haunts Steve's mind with terrifying potential. Suddenly, he had to know.

Steve didn't really think before blurting out, "Is the Joker my father?"

Harley froze, her shoulders tensing and her eyes widening as she stared at Steve. "You don't got a father, Dumplin'," she finally said, her voice quiet and her expression conflicted.

"Fine. Was he the sperm donor?"

With a sigh, Harley stepped closer and placed her hands on Steve's shoulders. "I won't lie," she said. "He is, but that don't mean a thing. His crazy ain't hereditary, Dumplin', and he's never gettin' anywhere near you."

"Does...does he know?" Steve whispered, "About me, I mean."

"It don't matter," Harley said, her voice firm and her eyes more serious than Steve had ever seen them. "I'll kill him before he gets near ya. Ives will kill him. Hell, Brucie wil---no, wait, he's got those pesky morals. Fine, Jason will kill him before he gets near ya. Actually, Jason'd kill him anyway, but the excuse will be good if Brucie scolds him for it."

Steve couldn't help laughing at that, feeling a little lighter when his mother smiled back at him. When his laughter trickled to nothing more than a smile, he asked, "Then, was I the reason you left?"

Harley nodded and gently tugged Steve into her arms, holding him to her and cradling the back of his head. "Yeah, you were," she said, her voice soft and soothing. "I was excited to tell 'im when I learned about you, but then I heard him talking to some goons. He was laughin' about running a kid over, breakin' their legs, and I realized...you wouldn't be special to him. You'd've been like his goons, all expendable and not even worth a glance. I couldn't put you through that, and I couldn't put me through it, either. So, I got us out the only way I knew how."

"By finding Uncle Bruce," Steve said.

He felt her nod. "By finding Brucie," she agreed. "He tried to deny bein' the Bat and all, but your mama ain't dumb, Dumplin'. I'd done my homework, and the butts matched. Once I explained it all, once I told him about you, he agreed to help."

Steve nodded, listening to his mother's heart beating against his ear. He glances down at the mallet again, tightens his grip, and takes a deep breath. "Thank you," he said, "for the gift and for telling me. I'll do good with it, I promise."

"That's my boy," Harley said, pulling back and ruffling his hair. "Now, lemme explain that Jester Logic to ya."

----------

Hawkins remains boring even after meeting Eddie. After all, Eddie's in high school (his second attempt at senior year, apparently), and Steve...isn't. He should be, probably, but there's no way he's stepping one foot in that suburban nightmare of a building. He can feel the normalcy, the utter boredom, oozing from the place, and he'd rather not subject himself to that.

So, he spends his day wandering around Hawkins, getting a feel for the little town until he could navigate the place blindfolded. He can do the same in Gotham, but it's more impressive there with the winding streets and sprawling sidewalks. Here, it's nothing special.

The most interesting part of his day is when he's sitting on the roof of a video store, one leg dangling over the edge with the other pulled to his chest so he can rest his arm on his knee. He's about halfway through a cigarette when a cop car pulls into the lot and a middle-aged man steps out.

He looks up at Steve, frowning as he calls up, "You shouldn't be there, son."

"I ain't your son," he calls back, grinning as he takes another drag and blows smoke out as the guy rests his hands on his belt. It reminds him so much of Gotham PD rookies trying to posture that Steve can't help laughing. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?"

"I'm serious, kid," the cop says, apparently ignoring Steve's question. "It's dangerous up there. If you don't come down, I'm gonna have to call the Fire Department to bring the ladder."

Steve sighs and puts his cigarette out on the roof. He gets up, stretches his arms above his head, and stands on the ledge of the roof. He grins at the cop, casually stepping into empty air and hearing the guy shout as he falls. He lands in a crouch on the awning over the door, swings to hang from it, and lands on his feet on the sidewalk.

It wasn't even much of a fall, but the cop looks like he's about to have a heart attack. Steve glances at the badge on his chest. "We done now, Officer Hopper?" he asks.

"Don't do that again," Hopper says, pointing a finger at Steve, "Or I will drag your ass to the station and call your parents."

Steve snorts, doing his best to hold his smile back. "I'll keep that in mind, sir," he says, giving a mocking two-finger salute before turning on his heels and walking down the street.

After a few blocks, he veers off into the forest, figuring he'll wander around the trees for a while before going to the Hideout to bother Bev and stare at Eddie and quietly pray someone else is gonna look for a fight.

Did he mention Hawkins is boring? Because it's fucking boring.

Steve sighs, kicking a stick as he shoves his hands into his jacket. He idly notes the forest is healthy. Sure, a few pieces of litter are strewn around, but it's not as bad as the parks in Gotham can get. Poison Ivy would find this place barely passable, which is hard to manage, and he's tempted to call her when he gets home to tell her about it.

He hums softly as he walks, enjoying the sounds of the forest until they just...stop.

The entire forest falls silent, which is weird; forests are too full of life to go silent. Even the bugs seem to have frozen in place, too scared to risk making a sound by moving. Steve stops, looking around him with a frown and trying to figure out what's caused this.

He gets the answer a second later when he hears a scream. The voice sounds young and cracks slightly, so it definitely belongs to a child. Despite himself, Steve can't help grinning as he takes off in the direction of the scream.

This is the most exciting thing to happen in the four weeks he's been stuck in Hawkins. As he runs through trees and easily jumps over bushes to take the shortest path, he makes guesses on what he'll find. Maybe Hawkins has a villain that's only now showing up. Maybe the town has a secret alligator or something that's decided to have a midday snack. Hell, maybe someone just decided to be a dick today.

He realizes every guess is wrong when he slides into a clearing to see a few kids (two boys, one girl) surrounded by some weird dog-looking...things. They have heads but no faces, crouched low to the ground and growling at the kids they've cornered. There's around ten of them, which would normally make Steve hesitate, but he's so desperate at this point for a real fight that he doesn't care.

Instead, he reaches over his shoulder, thinks about how fucking hilarious it's gonna be to jump out of nowhere with a giant mallet, and grips the handle as he swings it over his shoulder. "Hey, monster mutts!" he shouts, grinning when all the monsters and the kids finally notice him. "Let's play."

Pure, unfiltered joy rushes through him when the first monster-dog jumps at him. Steve's eyes are bright and his grin is positively feral as he swings the mallet and sends it flying into a tree. He roundhouse kicks another dog, using the momentum to bring his foot down on the head of a third before smashing its body with the mallet.

"Are you insane?!" one of the kids shouts.

"Certifiably!" he shouts back, watching as another monster-dog jumps at him. He waits for the perfect moment to back flip, bringing his feet under the dog to send it flying. He brings the mallet up as he lands, clocking another monster under the jaw. It yelps, crashing into another dog.

"Where'd this guy even come from?" the girl asks, turning to look at the boys with her.

"I don't know, but I'm happy to let him deal with the demodogs."

Oh. That's what they're called. Steve hums softly at the name, grinning as he twirls the mallet and swings with all his strength at one of the demodog. He rests the mallet on his shoulder like a baseball bat, watching the demodog arch in the air with an appreciative whistle. "Solid air," he says, nodding once before looking at the remaining demodogs.

There's only three, the others scattered in the clearing. He can't tell if they're dead or not, but he could always smash them to mush when he's done. Steve grins at the remaining dogs. "C'mon, then," he says, only to be filled with disappointment when they creep back, turn heel, and run.

"Damn, that's no fun," Steve says, sighing as he rests the mallet on the ground and leans on the handle. He looks at the kids. "You guys okay?"

The girl has orange hair pulled back into a messy braid. She's staring at him like he's got two heads but is kind of impressed by it. One of the boys has curly hair being smothered by his hat, and the other is wearing a basketball jersey. They're also staring at Steve like he's crazy. "Dude," the curly-haired one says, "that was awesome!"

"Where'd you get that mallet from?" the girl asks.

"Jester Logic," Steve explains, shrugging as he picks the mallet up and walks over. "Wanna hold it?"

When the girl lights up, he passes the mallet to her, snorting when she immediately staggers under its weight. "How do you hold this so easily?"

"Jester Logic. Again. It's funnier when other people find it heavy."

"That makes no sense," basketball jersey says.

"Who are you?" curly hair asks.

"Steve. Moved here recently. What about y'all?"

"Dustin," curly hair says.

"Lucas," basketball jersey says.

"Max," the girl says, her voice strained until Steve takes the mallet back, twirling it like it weighs nothing.

"Great. Nice to meet y'all. Now, what the fuck were those?"

"How much time you got?" Dustin asks.

Steve grins, thinking he's finally found something that can keep him entertained when he's not hanging around Eddie. "Plenty."

---------

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@nectandra, @y4r3luv, @just-a-tiny-void,

[patchiko]

Your AK HC were on POINT 👌👌👌 literally everything you said was so right. It was really refreshing seeing this kind of take on AK Jason.

AK Jason is a cat that’s been feral for most of its life and you just gotta approach him gently and be patient 🥺

I also agree… this boi is a VIRGIN 👏 this man had no game and wasn’t even seeking anything (cause 1) his mind is entirely focused on one goal atm and 2) all his trauma 😞 ) he’s prob like a deer in the headlights for any first time physical intimacy wether that’s holding hands or sleeping together (poor baby)

I want to give AK Jason a nice blanket, a cup of tea and his favorite book 🥺 I doubt it would help a lot though. I just want to shower this boi with love

literally jumping up and down. for so long i was nervous to post my takes on him hcishskshd.

psps also i see yall in my inbox dw imma get to you all :]

but your so right, ak!jay is so a feral dog/cat to me. I say dog because of his implication throughout the arkham comics and mainstream ones, that robin to jason was seen as bruces lap dog.

So i’ve always seen AK!jay as a “runner dog.” You know? The type that sees an open door and runs out of the house, wont come back for nothin.

But feral cat so describes his personality, the just standing and watching, and slowly warming up, is so him coded ,, anon ur soOOO right.

nsfw under da cut (light / not detailed :] ) ((also soft and warm hehe))

ill die on this hill,, he had NO interest in sex for so long, barely slipped his mind with training. Only got off to break off steam and he would just take his ass to bed.

and like anon said, even for basic things like holding your hand on his shoulder he gets so tense.

Subconsciously he’s waiting for something bad to happen, for it to be a trick, so it takes a really long time for him to weed those distrusts out :(

luv him soo bad needa hold his hand and feed him food.

his first time hes so quiet and stiff. hes not mentally freaking out, but again subconsciously hes expecting something bad to happen.

he feels like theres something under his skin tingling, the sensation that made him pull back many times before.

but nothing bad is happening, and it takes him awhile to accept that too.

The possibility has never seemed completely unreal to him, but really experiencing that kind of intimacy and love was so surreal to him.

When its over, he’s looking at you with big blown out eyes, and his mind is so quiet, in a good way, but most importantly that fog, that darkness he has felt for so long isn’t there. He feels so real and present in the moment.

He’s touching your skin, actually feeling and processing the way you feel against him, the texture of the cloth you two lay on, and your face.

Falls asleep, doesn’t dream. a peaceful night. he wakes up, the fogs back but he feels a little lighter when he walks :)

ak!jay dealing with everyone (including you and i my friend) thats in his tumblr tags ((link))

my rq are open im so happy people wanna hear me ramble abt his crazy ass fuckdjskbdkssndj !!!

[solar-wing]

⚣ Safer With Me ❌

⚣❌ A/N → Yandere! Arkham!Jason Todd. Inspired by @yanderes-galore and their prompt writing for Jason. Prompts below were selected with a randomizer wheel. WARNINGS: Abduction/Kidnapping, Minor themes of Non-Con, Stalking/Obsessive Behavior, Depictions of Violence and Gun-Use

Prompt List Here! #40: "I know what's best for you, just trust me on this one." #18: "There's no use in sucking up to me now."

⚣❌ Summary → Homeless on the streets after your parents kicked you out when you came out to them, fate seemed to take mercy on you as you were taken in by Gotham's Billionaire Playboy, Bruce Wayne. But, your stay with him is not long as someone has been keeping an eye on you. An old acquaintance of your new guardian who had a plan of getting you away from the famed CEO. Why? Because you were safer with him, why else?

⚣❌ Words → 1.8k

REBLOGS and replies very appreciated, please! ❤️

⚣ ENJOY ❌

You couldn’t figure out how you ended up in this situation.

A few months before this entire mess of a night, your parents had kicked you out on the streets after coming out to them as gay. Kind of ironic knowing the other stuff they ‘tolerated’, but whatever. 

So after that, you were sleeping on the streets, doing what you had to do to survive. It’s Gotham City, so you were bound to eventually run into trouble. Some guys who were clearly drunk off their asses decided to start harassing you then Batman showed up to save the day. But he barely got a punch in before you had all three of them laying on their asses in pain.

There was a reason you asked your parents for self-defense classes the moment you came to terms with your sexuality. The world was changing, but not quickly enough.

So, the Dark Knight dropped you off at the police station where coincidentally, Bruce Wayne happened to show up and offered to take you in. You’d heard about the billionaire’s ‘hobby’ of taking in kids off the street and giving them a better life, and what more pleasing way to shove the middle finger at your parents than to end up in the care of someone who seemed to actually give a fuck about you more than they ever pretended to?

Then, the tests started. You figured Bruce was testing your skills to see how well you’d be able to take care of yourself just in case another incident happened as the one Batman found you in. They continued for a while, and before Bruce got to tell you what they were actually for, it was too late.

A few months after your move-in into Wayne Manor, you started getting the feeling you were being watched. And growing up in Gotham, you always knew it was better to listen to your instincts and be wrong than not listen and still be wrong.

A week before the attack on the city from Scarecrow, you had been on your way home walking since Bruce wasn’t able to pick you up due to some ‘unforeseen circumstances’. You’d soon come to find out all of that was a diversion so Arkham Knight and his militiamen had a clear shot at nabbing you. 

When you turned down a corner to an empty street, they pulled you into an alleyway and jumped you. You did your best to fight them off, but they began to overwhelm you. Somehow, you gained an upper hand though, the goons not expecting you to be as trained as you were. 

Just before you could take out the last of them though, he showed up and surprised you from behind, covering your nose and mouth with a rag seeped in nitrous oxide, putting you right to sleep.

Right before you lost consciousness, you heard a modulated voice chuckle in your ear, “Don’t worry, I got you. You’re safe with me now.”

You woke up in a dark room with hands and feet tied together and a splitting headache to match the aches around your body. You looked around to see the room you were in was empty, but you could hear voices on the outside talking.

“Why do you think Knight wanted him in the first place?”

“If I had to guess, it probably got something to do with the Bat himself.”

“Hmm, maybe. Personally, I think he’s got a thing for him. Not my place to judge, but I’ve heard and seen how protective he gets of him. Did you see the way he brought him in? Not one of us was allowed to even touch him.”

You didn’t know what to make of it or how to make sense of it. Didn’t have the time to do it either since you heard footsteps approaching the door. You listened to that same modulated voice you’d heard before you passed out giving an order to open the door. 

Laying back down in the position you were in before, you pretended to be still asleep.

You could hear the heavy footsteps as if whoever this was wearing the heaviest of heaviest boots in the world. The nervous feeling in your chest grew more and more the closer they sounded. Doing your best to stay still, you tried slowing your breathing down to a relaxed pace as you felt the thuds on the ground from him coming to stand next to you, feeling his entire presence standing over your body. You prepared your body figuring he may kick, slap, or even yell for you to wake up.

You did not expect to feel a gloved hand caressing your face.

“I know you’re awake.” He spoke before removing his hands and standing back up.

Opening your eyes, you saw a glowing screen mask staring down at you. 

You heard their modulated voice chuckle as he watched you slowly sit back up. “You didn’t think we’d have cameras inside watching to see when you’d got up?” He stated before gesturing to the cameras around the room. 

The mysterious soldier turned around to grab the only chair in the room, moving it to the middle of the room before coming back to lift you off the ground, settling you into the chair gently.

“Why am I here?”

“I know what’s best for you, just trust me on this one. You’re safer with me than with him.”

“Him? Who are you talking about?” You asked with a puzzled look coming across your face.

He didn’t immediately respond, but you could tell he was debating on something, you just didn’t know what.

“In time, you’ll find out.” He replied simply.

“What do you want?” You asked.

“Direct and to the point, huh? Knew there was something I liked about you.” He laughed, walking to stand in front of you with his arms crossed.

“Must be a lot of things from what I’ve heard. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d be sitting here.”

“Really? Well, if I were you, I’d think better than believing everything I hear.” He said, grabbing your chin a little rough, forcing you to look up at him.

You scowled at the armor-clad man before spitting at him. You watched the glob of saliva run down his mask before the hand on your chin grabbed at your neck. You clawed at his wrists to no avail as he lifted you out of the seat.

“That wasn’t very nice. Say you’re sorry, and I won’t hurt you… much.” He said, getting very close to your face to the point you could feel the electricity buzzing off the screen.

“Fuck you, asshole.” You spat at him.

He chuckled darkly, before kicking the chair you were sitting on.

“If you insist.”

He slammed you down on the ground, your breath escaping you and your vision going blurred. He kept his hand tight on your neck while the other one went down to your pants, undoing the belt and button before attempting to pull them down.

“No!” You whimpered, trying to fight back against him. He placed his body over your kicking legs, his heavyweight managing to hold them still while he now went to put his hands up your shirt. He felt all over your upper body, even stopping to pinch at your nipples a few times, before his hand went back down to your pants, sticking them down your underwear. You cried out at the feeling, trying your best to get him off you, but the dude was like a tank, and you were getting weaker with the more time he spent choking the air out of you. He started trying to push down your pants again before you both heard pounding against the door.

“Knight! Scarecrow says we gotta move!”

He held still for a moment before you felt him release you. You gasped for breath while he re-did your pants before pulling you up from the ground. Your body lay against his weak while feeling a little lightheaded from being jerked up so suddenly.

“You got lucky, this time. But, I wouldn’t try a move like that again. You won’t be leaving anytime soon

“Batman will. He’ll kick your ass.” You groaned from the soreness around your throat while panting into his chest armor.

You felt the chuckle vibrate from his chest before he bent down to lift you in a bridal hold.

“I was held captive once too, tortured even. Thought the same thing. It’s nice for a while but you’ll get over it soon enough.”

You struggled in the hold as he moved toward the door letting out a whimper from the pain your body was still in. “Please… just let me go.” You begged.

“Aww, already giving in? Cute. And smart. But, too little, too late. There’s no use in sucking up to me now.” He said, before heading out of the room to wherever.

You watched from around the corner, a gag tied over your mouth now with your hands bound in front of you as one of the militiamen held you in place. You saw Batman come around the corner and tried to scream out to warn him but was too late as Knight had jumped from the ledge he was hiding on shooting at him. 

Batman managed to dodge but was quickly knocked to the ground. Before he could get up, Knight walked over and placed his foot on his chest, pinning him down to the ground.

“Oh no, no, you’re not going anywhere, old man.”

You looked in horror as Knight switched hands with the gun he was holding, pointing it down directly at the masked vigilante.

“Tri-weave, titanium coated, armor plating. Nice. Unless you know exactly…where to shoot.” He said, before placing the gun down on his lower abdomen and pulling the trigger. You flinched at the sound, watching him groan in pain before Knight moved his foot off his chest.

“You’re good, Dark Knight. Even better than I remember. It’s going to make it even more satisfying when I kill you. Oh, and, don’t worry about Barbara. I’ll take better care of her than you ever did. Y/N too, he’s mine now.” You heard him say, walking toward where you and the others were standing around the corner.

“Batman’s in the control room. Show him what happens when he messes with my city and tries to take what doesn’t belong to him.”

Knight walked toward you as the militiaman immediately released you into his embrace. He cradled you gently even as you tried to push out of his hold. When he got tired of you fighting him, he just picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, carrying you away from the room.

“You’re better off without him anyway.”

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXVII. “tender loving care”

parts: previous / next

plot: you visit Bruce at Arkham.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, discussion of suicide, hospital, mental institution, light gore, pain, arguing, mental illness

words: 5.1k

a/n: this chapter discusses a suicide attempt from the last chapter. if you would not like to read this, the next chapter will include a blurb at the beginning to summarize what takes place in this one so you can still follow along! this chapter and the next one should be the last explicit conversations about it for a while (as promised: prev. chapter summary below)

previous chapter summary: bruce tells you about his hallucinations, and you invite him to your apartment to finish the interview to escape paparazzi. he does a handwritten interview while you clean your apartment. he answers almost every question candidly, describing fond childhood memories such as a camping trip with his parents two weeks before they died. he lingers, then leaves, and upon turning in your interview to Dr. Vry the next morning, a psychiatrist (Dr. Jonathan Crane) is there. he privately informs you that Bruce attempted suicide after leaving your apartment. Crane says your leaving town could have pushed him over the edge, expressing massive concern. asks you to see Bruce at Arkham (where he’s under a 24 hr hold) and convince him to stop refusing help.

The Uber to Arkham was grueling. Stuck in that traffic felt like hours, but you couldn't remember a single thing that passed outside the window, even an isolated thought. Vibrating with anxiety, barely swallowing back the rising bile, you were escorted down a dim hallway to a tiny office after passing through the spiked gates. Another blink and Dr. Crane entered, idling by the doorway with a handful of paperwork. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, only not pulling you under by sheer will to hear what the psychiatrist had to say.

"Fair warning Ms. Y/L/N, he is moderately injured and fully restrained; we ask that you don't get within arm's reach, however." He sighed like there'd been an issue earlier. "Make sure to let him know you are not leaving, and, if he brings up owls—" He leaned toward you, looking over the top of his glasses. "Don't try to convince him otherwise. Focus on the feelings, not the content." You didn't quite know what that meant, but you had no time to ask; he yanked the door open and stood beside it with an arm outstretched. He handed you off to a nurse, a short, kind woman with a warm smile. You followed her without fuss, unable to think due to debilitating waves of fear.

Through the fuzzy haze of your eyes and the waves of blood flushing out your eardrums, you heard the nurse tell you details on his attempt; extremely vague, fragmented, but you could get the gist: he'd jumped off of something tall and landed in a thorny, glass-bottle filled section of abandoned shrubbery. The doors opened and the bright yellow light flooded the hallway with a foreboding aura. You stepped in and the door shut immediately behind you, sounding a small alarm which quickly quieted. You flexed your fists together and suppressed a startle response when you saw him in the corner of the room, restrained in a way you hadn't seen before; rather than wrist and ankle bands, he was tethered to the bed by three long belts. The nylon was taut against his calves, his waist, and his chest. He didn't snap to attention when you entered the room, instead looking preoccupied, gazing at the far wall blankly. Is he sedated?

Your teeth jammed against your tongue to keep a squeaky whine at bay—he was covered in gauze, bright red blood sticking thickly to the white, bleeding through at nearly every point. His neck covered in pockmarks and scratches; you could see a few of them had bulging, crusted stitches. He must've landed on his left side, seeing the soft cast on his left ankle and the swathes of deep, bloody purple bruising peeking out between gauze patches. Another step in and he glanced over to you, his morose posture shifting to something buzzier, tenser. As he tried to sit up he was denied by the tightness of the strap, which you could see digging into part of his bruising. "Y/N. What are you doing here?"

Holy fuck. His voice. It was raspy, and weathered. Strained like his vocal cords had been snapped, or his esophageal lining had been burnt with an iron. He fell back against the papery pillow with a soft crunch. You thought you'd been prepared for how he might look, but this was... whew.

"I was your last point of contact." You kept your tone measured, your body language casual, but concerned enough you didn't come across bored. He was trembling again, the sound of it rattling the hospital bed. When you looked closer you saw bloodshot eyes, like the vessels had popped. It made nearly all the whites of his eyes red, and you bit your lip until it bled to reign in your immediate fear response.

He rolled his eyes, his head swaying slightly side to side. In that motion, you were able to see his undereyes and cheeks catch the bright light. His face was soaked with tear streaks, and his lips were so bitten as to be plump, swollen. "And what did they tell you happened?" He winced and looked toward his abdomen.

He's not supposed to sound like that. He's not supposed to look like that. You forgot what he'd just asked, and didn't even know if you could speak. You scrambled for words to say so he wouldn't notice your shock, but he did. "I'm fine." He glared when you just stood there, awkwardly. "What did they tell you?"

He was getting straight to the point, wasn't he? "That you had a rough night." Would the word suicide trigger him? Would dancing around it be worse?

He hated the way you stood there, he hated that you were seeing him this way, he hated the way the staff coddled him. He could tell you were afraid. He knew he sounded like shit and looked even worse. The stitches itched. His head seared from stapled wounds. The bruises were achingly deep, a dull drum of pain with no reprieve. His nose stunk of dried blood and every nostril flare cracked apart webs of it. He grit his teeth. "I didn't try to kill myself."

A fleck of dust went into his eye, forcing a repetitive wince. His forearms strained to get it to no avail, barely moving against the thick cord. "Is there something in your eye?" You took a step forward, remembering what Dr. Crane had told you about staying an arm's length away.

He kept wincing. "It's fine." Maybe if he could just yawn, water his eyes a bit... it scraped against his eye, a pain so low compared to the rest of his body it was nothing but a mere annoyance, but a visible one; you looked around for a handwashing station and saw nothing, not even a hand sanitizer in the doorway. You rubbed the tips of your fingers together, trying to warm your chilled fingers. "I can get it."

After brief hesitation, he surrendered a nod and you approached, the injuries only looking more gruesome up close. Some blood bubbled up through the gauze, leaked out the sides. The restraints were dug tightly into his skin, creating deep indents. Is this even legal? He tilted his head back and opened his eye, squinting against the glaring white LEDs scattered across the ceiling. You reached out and gently pulled back his eyelid, leaning in to search for the offending material... it was more difficult to see with all the popped vessels.

He relaxed into your touch. Slightly cool, warming up against the heat of his skin. No more of the gloved hands, the clinical pats. Unconsciously his eyes shut and he heaved a deep breath out, flattening his chest, creating some space between him and the restraint. You kept your fingers on his brow bone, feeling his weight shift toward you. His lashes fluttered with tears, pain, or both; your thumb caressed his skin, gliding softly along his orbital bone. His breathing drew deeper, breath coming heavily out of his nose. Wet, hot tears leaked from the corner of his eyes. He felt himself melting out of the fight response for the first time since he'd left your apartment.

If pain could be translated through touch alone... Bruce. With every shuddering, panicked inhale the gauze flexed on his shoulders, the tape rippling. Your heart exploded for him. You flipped your palm and stroked his cheek with the back of your hand, brushing the hair back and out of his eyes. "You're safe." He exhaled forcefully from his nose, strained attempts at containing his sobs. At the quickening of his breath the door slammed open; alongside a guard, the nurse from before stormed into the room. He'd been so lost in the slip of your hand against his cheek that he only noticed people had come when you jolted back. It felt like having the floor fall out beneath his feet.

"That's enough." The nurse walked forward and placed a hand on your back, urging you toward the door. "Don't want to push it, now." You tried desperately to look back at him, but the security guard's back kept him out of view. The door snapped shut. You glared at the woman, cringing away from her touch. "He wasn't going to do anything, he's hurting—"

Dr. Crane came walking at a steady clip, a clipboard nestled tightly to his elbow and flush against his abdomen. "Ms. Y/L/N,"

Tears pricked at the edge of your vision, your tone bleeding with hostility. "You're treating him like a dog."

He nodded at the nurse and she walked away. You felt sparked, jittery, overwhelmed. Anger flushed your cheeks. Your fingers hung stiffly at your side, buzzing with adrenaline. He held an arm down the hall, sighing in tandem. "Let's have a word in my office."

Bruce was going to make note of how they treated him and see to changing things. The guard tightened his restraints before stomping out and shutting the lights almost entirely, save the glow from the observation window which cast a sinister vibe about the room. The day had been erratic, a deluge of care professionals keeping the door on a swivel. He'd spoken to at least three different social workers, two on multiple occasions. A therapist had tried to discuss the event with him, and he could tell she believed not a single word. Everyone left with a sigh and a hurry like he was an unwelcome, parasitic guest.

He was floored when you'd arrived. He thought for sure you'd already left, and had felt a twinge of relief at you not having to know about this. He hadn't thought about paparazzi until every worker who entered his room assured him that he was booked under an alternate name, and 'no one' would find out about this. It only served to remind of what he'd tried to forget the past three years—that his mother had been here, too, and it had been weaponized against her. The scene from the night before replayed so vividly whenever he closed his eyes, leaving him unable to sleep, restless, struggling against the restraints as much as he could without alerting the camera to any signs of escape. He'd woken up here, Alfred telling him he'd just been transported from Gotham General. He was given a hefty dose of lorazepam at GG, and awoke here fully restrained. Alfred told him he was informed he'd tried to fight the nurses, scratching, kicking, and biting them. He didn't recall a second of it.

What he did recall was terror. Debilitating, horrifying, vice-grip terror. A few blocks south of your apartment, a large hooded creature wearing an owl mask had grabbed him by the neck. It was so fast he didn't realize what was happening until he thudded against a wall, cracking a rib and the brick in harmony. The dark abyss enveloped him then, slicing, tearing, and pummeling him against the concrete. In a desperate attempt to get through, Bruce had wrapped his hands around the creature's throat, applying disarming pressure, a level that would make any attacker fall to their knees. The creature had only intensified their attack, acting completely unphased. Bruce had staggered to his feet, spitting blood out of his mouth as he was run deep into the concrete, slammed into the jagged edge of a dumpster. At this point he feared for his life, the edges of his vision blowing out, darkening, every breath feeling like he was pulling out his intestines piece by piece. He wrapped both hands around the thing's neck, wrestling, squeezing, juicing its throat harder than he'd ever touched anyone in his life. A force that strong would have snapped a neck in two seconds, but: nothing. With a final heave, he felt himself lifted up and thrown through the air. The last thing he remembered was the mortifying sensation of spikes entering his skin.

He'd stopped relaying the story by the time the third social worker arrived. The first two had jotted down his words, nodded at all the right times, but looked at him like he was a zoo animal. It was all too reminiscent of when people had walked on eggshells two decades prior.

"I'm sure this feels distressing, Mr. Wayne."

"The witness said they saw you jump from the top of the Spriff building, landing in some brush."

"Mr. Wayne. Your guardian, Mr. Alfred Pennyworth relayed a family history of schizophrenia. Is this information new to you?"

At the end of every validating sentence was one discrediting his perception entirely. His breaking point came when Alfred entered teary, holding a wadded up, snotty tissue. He'd begged him to get help, and he nearly did just to alleviate his misery, but he couldn't. His Bat senses were tingling, desperate to hit the ground and investigate it. The face clearly matched the etchings, he still needed to follow up on the Electrum, see if it was a dead end... he had to visit Mayor Reál, talk to her about the election; he was so aware she was somewhere unreachable within these walls. What if they were gaslighting her just like him? What if he'd gotten too close, and this was an effort to subdue him? Had Alan's death been framed? Still, embers of shame stirred deep within, fueling the nagging, world-ending thought that he was merely searching for things to alleviate his fear, to keep his denial rooted and strong. That he was embarrassing himself, refusing to give in to the truth and accept reality.

"You must understand," Dr. Crane shut his office door and swiftly navigated to his desk. Various papers and medical journals, including a reference copy of the DSM, laid out across the tabletop. You stood opposite him, unable to contain the emotions barreling through you. "Safety is of the highest priority here at Arkham."

"He was crying—"

"He was growing agitated." Dr. Crane slapped his clipboard down between you. He heaved an exasperated sigh and leaned down to rummage through a filing cabinet. The folder he pulled had newly initiated crease lines. The room was silent aside from ruffling of thick papers and the tick of his watch. He tugged out a single page, the quality of the paper so poor you could see the text peeking through. "In Mr. Wayne's condition, any heightened emotion could cause an issue. Let's just say he didn't arrive restrained."

Over the next hour he sat with you to explain the protocol, sprinkling in a few sighs about how you hadn't told him you were staying. You'd forgotten it entirely, too sideswept by his cut body and annihilated spirit. You were able to get clarification about 'feelings over content', which was the thesis of the whole operation. "When we focus on the content, meaning 'what happened', we can further alienate and antagonize the patient. To them, their hallucinations are as real as our conversation right now. Imagine if right before your very eyes, I started trying to tell you what you are hearing, seeing, feeling, smelling, and tasting were not real. Pretty activating, correct?"

You'd squirmed in your chair a bit. "I'd feel gaslit. Maybe pissed off."

He snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Instead focus on the feelings. It is real to the person experiencing it. Often it's highly distressing for them. 'That sounds scary', 'How can I best support you through this?' If possible, try to distract. Anxiety can make delusions and hallucinations worse." After the hour was up, you'd left with a chock-full notepad of what to do once Bruce was released. The major themes were highlighted at the top:

- feelings, not content

- distract, soothe

- do not engage with hallucination, aside from naming your own perspective (reality testing)

- develop a reorienting code

- be on the lookout for triggers, symptoms, and effective ways of managing them (incl. 'seeking' behavior)

Bruce was to be released at eleven that evening, accounting for the hour spent at the hospital getting his wounds dressed and checking for internal bleeds. That's all you could make out, anyway, from the backwards text you'd struggled to read while Dr. Crane had perused through a stack of documents. The drive to your apartment left you sitting in your vigilance, questioning your next move. Would you go down to Arkham later to see him? Would you go to Wayne Tower? Both options felt too intrusive, and you were sure Alfred would be there early to retrieve him... by the time you arrived back you decided to stay put and call Dr. Crane in the morning for a follow-up.

The rest of the day was miserable. Part of you wanted to reach out to Mar, but it was vetoed by how unstable you felt; if she came over, you might slip and tell her everything. How had Bruce endured this for so long? Holding this secret and all its complexity was deeply isolating. You emailed Dr. Vry saying you'd be staying for at least a few more weeks, and she'd responded half an hour later saying that Dr. Crane had already informed her that you were to remain in your post for the near future. Every minute felt like hours; you'd taken three showers that day just to do something in between binging reality television and ordering takeout. The only furniture that hadn't been broken down by the morning was your bed and couch. Who needs a dining table anyway? Bridgit emailed to confirm receiving your copy, letting you know that Dr. Vry had cleared it without edit. Whatever pride you might have felt this morning at hearing that was no longer present. All you felt was fear; weighty, inescapable, all-encompassing anxiety at holding someone's life in your hands. Maybe he'll have a change of heart. Maybe he'll talk to Alfred tonight, everything will be fine.

Your doorbell rang at 11:30 that night, and you'd been cross legged in front of the door for the past half hour awaiting his arrival, unable to rest or relax. A few minutes before he knocked you'd felt like an idiot; he had no reason to come see you. Without even looking through the peephole you hurried the door open within a second of his knock, and he nearly bonked you in the face when you appeared in the doorway. You must've been waiting at the door. About to leave? "Can I come in?"

His voice was still liquid sandpaper. You moved out of the way and he walked in, not bothering to hide his obvious limp. You looked around for a chair, and gestured to the couch. He declined, opting instead to lean hard into the counter for balance. You stood an awkward distance away, nervous if you got too close he might bail. His eyes were still bright red, the gray pallor beneath his tired eyes appearing hollow in the low light. He was a bit hunched, the gauze on his body replaced with thick bandages. His sweater from before was replaced by a baggy black t-shirt with matching sweats. Past getting his bearings, he didn't waste time. "What exactly did they tell you?"

Since he was asking.. "They said you attempted suicide." You were banking on Dr. Crane's assurance that naming suicide wouldn't increase risk. He shifted uncomfortably, but it was impossible to tell if it was related to the conversation or his battered body. He scowled. "That's not what happened." His breathing was more labored now. His eyes searched your face for anything that believed him. Anything different than what he'd seen the past twenty-four hours.

You swallowed. "What happened from your perspective?"

He scoffed, the hope he'd had crushing to dust. "It's not about perspective, it's about what happened." He moved to run his hands through his hair but only made it halfway before the bandaging restricted him. "This thing, this creature, it came out of nowhere." His voice trembled. "It had the same face as the pins, like an owl, a bird, but huge." He tapped his foot with the soft cast anxiously. His eyes were wide as he tried to conjure words to accurately depict it. He could feel you weren't buying in, probably thinking he was crazy. He winced. "I know how it sounds,"

"It sounds terrifying."

His arms dropped limply at his sides. "I'm telling you, I've never experienced anything like it. No matter how hard I fought," He tripped over his words, waves of shame and frustration crowding his thoughts. "I tried to strangle it and I couldn't, I've never pressed that hard," His eyes were wet with angry, embarrassed tears. You nodded at him, the enunciation of your words clear and deliberate. "That's really scary."

You sounded just like the staff. He tucked his lower lip under his teeth. He stood there a moment, claustrophobic in the silence. His eyes shut and he shook his head at the ground, pursing his lips. "You don't believe me."

You stepped toward him and he bristled. "I believe you experienced that." Your brow furrowed, your hands clasped together wringing out the skin. His laugh was despondent, empty. He bit the inside of his cheek, anger straightening his posture to stand unsupported. "Don't coddle me."

"I'm not meaning to coddle,"

"I know what I saw!" His voice raised, exaggerating its huskiness. It was approximately this second when you regretted signing the forms, and wanted to slap Dr. Crane for ever putting you in this position. You had no concept of what to say outside of what you already had, the thought of changing the subject felt asinine and brutally disrespectful, and you were left to bear the brunt of the responsibility of the outcome. There was a reason people went to school for the better part of a decade to navigate these situations. Against your better judgement, wanting to show him you weren't coddling, you directly engaged with details of the night before—the few that you'd been given. "They said you jumped off a building and landed in some brush. Glass, thorns, branches." He noticed your eyes wander to his injuries. He shrugged—barely, as much as his body allowed. It read as a heave. "Alfred told me. That didn't happen."

You had to tread very carefully. "Isn't it curious, though?" You kept your tone warm, low, gentle. For what you were saying, how you said it was crucial. You pegged him as a logical man, someone highly analytical, cunning, detailed. Maybe the direct approach was more tailored to him. "You're hallucinating the same figure for months. And what you said about your family..." You let him fill in the rest.

Bruce was starting to get pissed off—at you, specifically. He couldn't forget that none of this had happened until you came into his life. Now his life was punctuated by—no, infested with these shitty, confusing, layered affairs that only made him look suspicious. He kicked himself for opening up about the owls—maybe you'd have believed him if he hadn't. He loathed how much your positions made sense, because they couldn't be farther from the actual truth; but how could he convince anyone, let alone you, about his character and sanity? He had nothing. No one vouching for him. Just the weight of his reputation and family preceding all interactions, clouding it until he was no longer a human being in his own right.

The extended silence unnerved you. His face twitched painfully. Meds! Good segue. You didn't know he was fighting a carousel of dystonic emotion, that he was only not running out without a second look because you knew him, and knew this, and no one else did. "Do you want pain meds? I think I have ibuprofen here," You walked to your barren medicine cabinet without awaiting his response... which didn't end up coming, anyway.

You stood clutching a travel bottle of Advil. The pills rattled as they settled. "Uh, Bruce?"

"If you really think I tried to kill myself, wouldn't I want to bask in the pain?" His tone was biting, sourced from the depth of his helplessness. "If I really did this to myself, why run from it?"

Dr. Crane said to look out for signs of agitation. "You don't have to suffer through it."

He shot a look at you that sent an arrow through your chest. It wasn't pity that cradled you seeing hot, angry tears bleed from his lash line, or fear noticing his clenched fists and trembling mouth. It was compassion—so compelling and isolated, wholly unaffected by guilt or grief. You set the bottle down. As your apprehension lessened, he felt the air shift; with it, his heart quickened remembering your hand on his cheek. He swallowed back his rage and bat his eyes to dry them. "Fine. I'll have some." You handed over the bottle and he popped a few in his mouth, dry swallowing before you could reach for a glass. He wanted to beg, and maybe he would've if his knees weren't ripped to shreds. 'Please believe me' sat on the tip of his tongue. Your head hung as you went to get a glass for yourself. The spigot creaked when you turned it on. He noted you rinse the cup twice before filling, and followed the rim to your lips. It was a few seconds before he thought to look away.

You pressed on, desperate to know if Dr. Crane and his team were able to get through to him. "Did you set up any long-term stuff?" The glass sat atop the counter, twirling between your fingers. He heard Alfred's popular refrain so clearly. How did no one realize how traumatic it would be to go back? To sit in the chair and have a stranger affirm his sickness? To have someone sit inside his head and deny the very thing that makes up a life: his experiences. "I didn't agree. Not going to." Short, simple... he grit his teeth when you didn't let it go.

"Wouldn't it be worth trying? If the medication helps, surely that could help with discernment—"

"I know what I saw."

"You need to be safe."

"Safety means not ignoring something that tried to kill me, Y/N." His full breaths pulled at the bandages greater now, edges of them peeking up. Panic welled up in him. Something was after him, and no one believed it. Why did he want you to believe it so badly? He hadn't even burned for Alfred to know this badly. Why did this conversation feel like nails on a chalkboard, why did a sob sit unwitnessed in his chest whenever you spoke? You sighed. "What if treatment helps that go away? Then you won't have to worry."

"What if it's waiting for my guard to slip?" He meant it as a comeback, a strong point in his favor, but his chest and your expression only deflated as he said it. This is pointless.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going out." Without any additional context, you could only think he meant as Batman. "What, to investigate?" Tell me you aren't.

"While everyone psychoanalyzes me, it could be attacking others." Seeking behavior. Seeking behavior, a phenomenon you'd never heard of prior to the meeting with Dr. Crane, explained as: a common compulsory act of investigation aimed at reducing distress stemming from disturbing hallucinations or delusions and usually present in the early stages of treatment. "Often with these patients we see a strong desire to 'prove' their hallucination; remember, their experiences are tangible to them—the denial is hard to shake. This seeking behavior can leave patients going to desperate lengths to finally find the proof that what they experienced was not just real to them, but fully real, many times placing themselves in dangerous situations to do so. If they do not find what they seek it can cause panic, aggression, and self-injurious behavior."

"Bruce," Oooh, that was starting to grate him again. "You can barely walk—"

"I'm fine."

"You're not!" His schtick was drawing ancient—you had half a mind to think Alfred no older than thirty-five, aged only by the sheer stress of Bruce's stubborn, life-risking denial. "You just got out of the hospital,"

He spoke through clamped teeth. "Mandatory minimum hold, customary and unnecessary."

"You could've died last night."

If he had a dollar for every time he heard that... well, he did, but being in this situation a thousand times over didn't make the conversation go down any sweeter. "But I didn't. Funny how that works."

Searing words sat unsaid within you. You ached to call him on his hardheadedness, to shout and argue until your voice matched his. But you bit your tongue and visualized the notepad alongside the Bruce who'd trembled beneath your fingertips. "I know this experience is a lot, and there's so much to grapple with. But you need to prioritize safety." You watched him scoff and close the gap between him and the door. "Even if you don't think it'll help. Even if it's just resting at home for a few days."

He felt the scalding heat of your concern like a branding iron. He turned the knob. "Thanks for the visit." He left while the edge of his sentence still hung in the air.

You'd called Dr. Crane as instructed a few minutes after he walked out. You were to contact him in some capacity if Bruce's safety was ever of even meager concern, and he would act as triage. He'd been very concerned, but applauded your focus on safety. "You're doing the right thing, Ms. Y/L/N." He'd posited the idea of a planned 'intervention' with him and Alfred, but you'd both quickly concluded that could cause more harm than help. The rest of the evening was spent distracting yourself off the edge of a panic attack.

You glazed over while mindlessly watching shows. The sun had shined strong for a few hours, and you closed the blinds to ensure the overcast light didn't burn you as you slept... like it ever had before. The only way sleep finally found you was by surprise, on the brink of passing out. This city was a fucking menace.

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

Pt 4: If only you knew

Old Friends and Tears

word count: 2k

warnings: major violence, adult language, and angst

previous part series masterlist

It feels like you can’t stop driving away from the tunnel. Like you can’t put enough distance between it.

You keep thinking about Arkham Knight following you, which spurs you to drive faster and further. After making a loop around Miagani and ensuring that no one has followed you, you swiftly turn into an alley.

Switching off the bike, you take a few heavy breaths, calming your thumping heart. Your mind is still whirling from the fight.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a voice calls down to you.

“Almost didn’t recognize it was you.” Nightwing flips down into the alley. Stepping off your bike, you walk towards him, meeting him halfway. Dick opens his arms, and you lean in to hug him. He tightens his arms and slightly rocks you back and forth.

One of Dick’s many underappreciated talents is giving amazing hugs.

“Look at your fancy new suit. You’ve finally made it big.” He grabs your shoulders before pretending to wipe away a tear.

You playfully roll your eyes, “Always so dramatic. What are you doing here?”

He gasps and tosses a hand over his heart. “What? Not happy to see me?”

Giving him a deadpan look that he only laughs at, he finally tells you. “Bruce is looking into North Refrigeration, which is a job I’ve been working for months,” you interrupt in shock. “So he called you?”

“....Not directly. Alfred asked what I knew about North Refrigeration. He said Bruce was about to look into them. Figured he wouldn’t mind the extra hand.”

“Oh, so you invited yourself over, got it.”

Dick shakes his head before he gets serious.

“I heard about Barb. How are you holding up?”

“I’m just ready to have her back, even if I have to kick Scarecrow’s ass myself. What about you?”

“She can take care of herself. I’m surprised Scarecrow hasn’t thrown her back at us.” You both chuckle. You look at his eyes, which show unspoken fear. He’s worried about her, not like he’d ever say. The ever-persistent Nightwing, always the big brother, always calm.

“I know. I find it strange that Arkham Knight knew she was Oracle and, more importantly, where she was.” You sigh before continuing. “It makes me wonder if he’s been lurking and watching before all this.”

“You never know. It’s made it very clear that no matter how careful you are, there’s always a risk.”

Before you can respond, he presses his fingers on his earpiece. After a beat of silence, he speaks, “I gotta run. Bruce is waiting for me, but I’ll see you before I return to Bludhaven. I promise.”

“Call me if you need me!” You shout as he scales up the side of the building. Once he’s back on the rooftop, he waves goodbye before dashing away.

You roll the bike to the back of the alley and throw a black tarp over it, hoping it’ll blend in with the shadows. You decide to go back to the rooftops for a while. It’s easier to keep watch when no one hears you coming.

Getting up to the roof the same way Dick did, you walk to the opposite side and look out over the roads. You watch as groups of men run around beating each other, tipping over trash cans, and occasionally almost getting hit by cars.

Nearby, a piercing screech echoes out, making you wince. Startled by the unexpected sound, you quickly turn your head, scanning the area for any signs of movement. Your eyes land on a bird flying in the distance. You watch in sheer horror as the “bird” approaches. As it comes into focus, you realize it’s an enormous bat-like creature, and it is now barreling directly towards you.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim out loud, running towards the edge of the roof.

It gets to you before you can jump onto the street below. You crouch down, hands covering your head. It swoops overhead, and a piercing shriek fills the air, chilling you to the bone while the colossal wings whip chilled wind around you. The large beast lands on the street below, and men yell in panic, filling the air with their screams.

You stand there blinking momentarily, watching it move in a circle, screeching out what sounds like mournful cries. You take in the pale clammy skin, the white hollowed-out eyes, and the sharp teeth protruding from its mouth. As you think about your next move, it’s too late. The creature takes off into the sky again. The massive wings bring it toward your rooftop and you crouch low, bracing for its talons to cut you. Once again, you’re spared as it veers left at the last second. You begin running after it but aren’t fast enough to catch up. It rockets up into the sky and you lose sight as it flies behind the skyline.

“What the fuck?” You whispered.

On the other side of Gotham, the Arkham Knight enters a room where Oracle is being held. He leans against the doorway and watches her silently. Barbra glares back.

The silence is broken. “What the hell do you want?”

A robotic chuckle is let out. “Oh, Barbra, Barbra, Barbra. When did you become so rude?”

“Probably when someone manhandled me out of my home, got me thrown from a car, and locked me up in this room.”

“Hmm, yes, that was a bit rougher than I had intended. But honestly, you have Batman and that other birdy to thank for that.”

He stalks over to her and circles around the chair. She stays steady, showing no fear in the face of danger. A skill most will credit to Batman, but it’s a trait directly from her father.

She slightly jumps as his hand clamps down on her shoulder, and his helmet lets out an echoing hiss as he opens it. He tosses it on her lap. She glances down, wondering what he was doing.

“Don’t worry Babs. You’re just a pawn in this game, so as of right now, you’re safe.” Why did he sound so familiar? Why did she know that voice? Barbra racked her brain trying to figure out who that voice belonged to.

He walks around and her eyes land on his face, a gasp leaves her mouth. Her eyes must be playing a trick on her. Scarecrow must have injected her with fear toxin or gassed the room and she just didn’t realize it. That would be the only logical explanation as to why Jason is standing in front of her dressed as the man who has been terrorizing Gotham.

“Jason? H-How?” Her voice, barely above a whisper, is breathy with surprise.

“I know. Long time no see Babs.” He’s fully facing her now and she can see how the years have affected him.

His blue eyes, were bloodshot and sunken, with dark purple circles underneath. On his left cheek, a scarred letter J grabs her attention. And her eyes linger on it. She notices a recent scratch on his throat before he turns away from her.

“Jason! Why? Why are you doing this? How could you do this?” Her pain laces her voice. Tears glisten in her eyes, and confusion wrinkles her face.

“Like I said, you can thank Batman. Everything that has happened and that will happen is all because of him.” He walks towards the door.

“He mourned for you! We all did Jason.”

“Bullshit! It took all of about three months before I was replaced. Three months before I was forgotten! I was still alive while you guys were moving on!”

“We didn’t know, Jason. Please understand.”

Jason’s out the door before Barbra can say anything else. Once the door closes, she lets the tears fall out of her eyes.

Jason clicks his helmet back in place before entering the surveillance room. The monitors light up showing him the streets of Gotham. The Batmobile speeding after the tanks and the APC’s. A screen to the left side of the display catches his attention.

It’s Vulture. The one that escaped him. He watches as she take on a checkpoint with eight of his men inside it. His eyes tracked her every move, learning her fight patterns.

As Vulture knocked down a medic, one soldier holding two stun batons crept behind her, pressing the sparking stun batons against her back. Jason leans in as he watches her collapse to the floor. The three militiamen circle over her as she lies on the ground.

One bends down and once he’s close, she wraps her legs around his shoulders and springs her body upwards. They crash to the floor and Jason watches as the head of the militia bounces against the ground.

She stands, her hand reaching down to her waist, and pulls a small blade from her belt. It’s then hurled at the soldier with the batons, causing the baton in his right hand to slip out, dropping to the ground. With a leg sweep, Vulture disarms him, snatching the baton in a single fluid motion.

She swiftly turns to the other soldier and uses the baton to jab at his crotch, forcing him to drop to his knees. As he’s on his knees, she quickly flips to the other side of him, gaining some distance from the last soldier. She brings the baton down on the kneeling soldier’s neck, sending him sprawling face-first onto the ground.

Now she’s facing the last soldier. The soldier runs and grabs a wooden crate off the ground. He launches the crate towards Vulture, but she pulls the crate out of the air and to her chest. Using the wall for leverage, she launches herself into the air, smashing the box directly onto his head. He stumbles back, and her roundhouse kick connects with his chest, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

She stalks over to the unconscious head commander and smashes the communicator, making the checkpoint walls collapse.

Jason presses the comm in his ear.

Having let go of the communicator, you allow it to crash on the ground. A crackling noise comes from the commander’s earpiece, followed by the Knight’s voice.

“Don’t get too happy, birdy. I’m still seeing and hearing everything all over Gotham. Maybe I should be the new Oracle.”

Your blood runs cold.

You snatch the earpiece out of the commander’s ear and the Knight laughs on the other end. Pushing the button down on the comm, you respond.

“Maybe you should stop being such a coward and show your face. Or do you hide behind that mask because your face is too mangled?”

The laughter from the Knight is unlike the previous ones. It is not mocking you or sarcastic. It’s dark, and you can feel the hatred behind it. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Just wait, this mangled mess will be the last thing you see with your dying breath.”

You waste no time leaving the scene.

The projectors around Gotham whirl to life. It’s a holding cell, and the camera zooms in on the person inside. It’s Barbra, slumped over in her wheelchair. Scarecrow’s scratchy voice comes through the speakers.

“How does it feel to see your city on the brink of ruin, your friends in the clutches of death?”

The screen distorts and then it’s Scarecrow’s face on the screen.

“You stretched yourself too far this time, Batman, and now your failure is all but complete. As that final, dying breath escapes her body, she will know you are the one who failed her.” The audio screeches out as the screen turns black.

You press down on your comm.

“Alfred, where is she being held?”

“Master Bruce said a safe house in Chinatown. He’s on his way now.”

Shit. You’re nowhere near Chinatown.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

You begin driving your bike as fast as you can, zipping around corners, and taking shortcuts through the infrastructure of Gotham.

As you get to the middle of Chinatown, you stop the bike and grapple to the nearest building. Listening closely for anything that will point you in the right direction.

Closing your eyes, you try as hard as you can. A minute of stillness passes, and then, like a whisper on the wind, you hear it. The distant, muffled thuds of gunshots punctuated Scarecrow’s voice, raspy and echoing. Your legs start running before you even realize it, your heart pounding in your chest as fear takes over. With a rush of wind in your ears, you leap from the rooftop to the next, landing softly in front of a heavy wooden door.

You’re about to open it when Bruce comes out. Without Barbra.

“Where is she? Was it a trap? Is she somewhere else?”

His blue eyes lock on yours. You can see the pain in them. His jaw tightens.

“No, no, no, Bruce.” You’re pacing back and forth.

“I was too late. Scarecrow he….was punishing me. He killed her.” Voice heavy with guilt.

“You’re lying! She’s in there.” You need to get into the building. You need to see that she’s fine and that she’s not really in there. Heading for the door, Batman blocks you.

“No, I’m not letting you in there.”

“You don’t give me orders! I-I need to see Barbra.”

He speaks your name softly. “She’s gone.”

You turn your back on him, taking a few steps away. Bruce does the same.

You dodge Bruce with a quick movement, adrenaline surging through you, your eyes fixed on the door as you sprint towards it. His arms reach out and grab you, pulling you into his chest and lifting you off the ground, like a child throwing a tantrum. You thrash in his arms, your movements frantic, as you try to break free from his hold. His grip on you becomes a vise-like clamp, his muscles tightening as he pulls away from the door.

“Stop it, Bruce! Let me go! It’s Barbra, Bruce, it’s Barbra, please!”

“You don’t need to see. It won’t change anything.” He holds you until you’ve calmed down.

Bruce, let’s go, setting you on your feet. Your shoulders sag and you look at the ground.

“I’m headed to GCPD to talk to Ivy. She was immune to the fear toxin.”

“You’re hoping she’ll help against the Cloudburst?” Your voice sounds small, even to your ears.

“She doesn’t have a choice.”

taglist: @thegirlwiththeyarn @geminizmoonz @emilia527 @anime5005 @babypaperwitch @skypperlegacy @rwylm-things @mayo-0-o @ex-cla-ma-tion @pheonixfucu @not-herexo @g0atmansbridge182 @theg0ddesshera @redhoodedangel @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @marigiano @lilocapoca @misaki-kira8 @blackcanary130 @ykyouluvme @kiwi03 @xbonniepricexx @definitelynotanalien @ghostlyleech @pinkmaggit666 @0littlestwolf0 @stupid-ninja @reanie-xoxo @kittykatchicha @bunz-lover @justalittleb1tcrazy @gghoulpool @snackeyalleyjuice @comealivedaya @thefandomdiaries07 @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @awstrck @gemini-bichxx-blog @jennifermoyas @xdrin @harleycao @screamingsilence3 @ex-pinguina @ppiglovestravel-blog @catsinhatswithbats @jazminjacuinde @honeywolflower8364 @lillianmorningstar

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey, I'd love to request Jason x big brother reader, before Bruce adopted Jason he had a big brother who took care of him, but one day the reader kinda vanished and money just randomly appeared near Jason. The reader made some sketchy deal with someone in exchange for Jason to be taken care of. The reader was an experiment and got turned into some sort of monster (still a human silhouette but just a bit different, memories wiped, can't speak etc.) and years later, when Jason is red hood and on a mission with the batfam, they encounter the reader. Jason remembers the reader through some jewelry he gifted them, and he tries and helps the reader remember who they are.

My poor Jason. And the poor reader. Also, why am I writing such short pieces? What is happening with me?

Summary: (Y/N) makes sure that Jason is taken care of. But there is a catch.

Warnings: experiments, not the good kind, monsters, but not in the detail, Jason doesn't remember (Y/N).

Jason looked at a photo from his childhood. He was sitting on the bed in his apartment, looking at the photo from his childhood. It was Jason, but way before Bruce adopted. Years even.

The photo came in a brown envelope, seemingly out of nowhere. It was in his PO box, just waiting in there. At first, Jason thought that it was dangerous and that it had something like anthrax, but after closer inspection, the envelope was fine.

He didn't know who this boy was. They were happy in the photo, just the two of them. Smiles and happiness. One of the rare moments in the Todd household.

But now he wondered where this person was. Where did he vanish? Why did he vanish? When?

But Jason remembered that once the man left, he was... Taken care off? There seemed to be some extra money in the Todd household and that might have been a first. Some extra money. Huh.

But Jason remembered that thing were better for a while. It was somewhat stable and he didn't worry about being hungry or anything like that.

And then Bruce adopted him. Well, Batman was there first so technically, Batman adopted him. Bruce had to personas. Batman and Bruce Wayne.

What does he even do with this? Who sent him this? Should he talk to Bruce? Dick?

He groaned, hands going through his own hair. What to do now?

Jason sighed. There was a mission. Something about human experiments. Jason shuddered at that. And the worst of all? They were in Gotham, under a guise.

Hugo fricking Strange.

Jason never liked him. He thought he was insane and full of himself. Also, he suggested the idea of Arkham City and that, according to Jason was the dumbest idea ever. A prison in the middle of the city?

Hell no.

The facility was kind of empty, if you disregard the dead bodies of what Jason thought were failed experiments. He scowled underneath the mask, gun in his hand, just ready to strike.

This was a disaster waiting to happen. Something out of a horror movie, but Gotham was a horror movie in real life. A psychotic clown, egoistical man who is obsessed with riddles, insane mob boss, a human crocodile who is nuts-

A crash from one of the rooms made everyone jump. Batman didn't, he just walked slower. Jason pointed the gun towards the sound of the crash.

Who knows what was going to come out of the corner. Jason thought about the fact that they were going to die, because only stupid people would go to a facility where there were human experiments.

" You know everyone, I will say it. This is how white people die in horror movies. "

" What about Robin? " Nightwing asked.

" Robin would scare off the monsters. " Jason said, smirking at the TTs he got in return.

He pointed his gun towards the hall, seeing a normal human here. But it wasn't really normal. It was the man from the photo he got. But who was he?

Jason's eyes fell down onto the necklace he was wearing. Oh my God.

" (Y/N)... You are here?! " Jason screamed out, putting his gun back into the holster.

The others looked at one another. Who is (Y/N)?

" It's me, Jason. " Jason started, taking his helmet off.

" What the hell? " Tim wondered out loud.

" This is my older brother. I now know you vanished. You sold your soul, your body to protect me... Oh my God. " At this point Jason raised his hands up.

" B, we have to take him back. (Y/N), can you say something? " Jason prompted.

(Y/N) was ready to attack, but Jason was quick to jump at him and knock him out.

" I have to find out what happened. I have to... " Jason said, looking at his older brother.

" We will. Don't worry. But you need to explain to me what has happened with him. "

[e-nonsense]

MERCENARY pt. two

pairing. batfam x batsis!reader

warnings. languages death/murder, gun violence

summary. reader is bruce wayne’s unofficial daughter and a mercenary. she doesn’t frequent gotham until she gets paid to kill the joker. previous part

When you woke up you were in the Batcave. You were in big trouble, big big trouble. Why? Well...

The Joker was dead,

you family knows that you're The Knight,

and lastly you lied to Alfred

You could still walk, you only passed from exhaustion killing the Joker had been easier than you thought it would be, but getting away from the scene of the crime was very hard.

You slipped into Arkham thanks to Harley Quinn who pretended to be a guard and let you in through a secret tunnel, if she had stayed getting out would've been a lot easier but you couldn't risk her getting caught so you told her to leave, lying that you had an exit strategy.

You had made it out of Arkham successfully but when you were out all the Gotham Knights where there - it made you feel special if you weren't gonna lie - waiting for you, even Red Hood who looked like he didn't want to be there.

You took them down one by one - having known all there strengths and weaknesses, and weak spots - till eventually you were left with one.

And there he stood Batman, The Dark Knight something that contrasted your name the White Knight, you knew that you could take him down with some time but that was time you didn't have so you got in a fighting stance and when Bruce lunged you ran.

From roof to roof and Batman eventually accompanied by his birds and idiot sidekicks followed and when instead of jumping you dropped, they were all a little confused until they saw a speeding away. Damian was impressed. In the end they still got you and here you all where, every single pair of eyes on you.

"Sooo?" you smiled awkwardly "how's everyone feeling?"

"confused" came Duke's voice, everyone glared at him minus you who smiled at him gratefully.

"Mercenary?" Jason, he didn't sound pissed probably 'cause you just killed the Joker "What were there no other occupations available?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bruce asked and everyone was quiet once again. You sighed "If I told you what would you have said?"

"I-"

"No, Bruce you wouldn't have supported me. Not the way you do everyone else" you took a breath to control yourself "and that's understandable, y'know but you wouldn't have accepted me either, and don't lie about how you would."

"She has a point father"

"Damian-"

"Don't get angry at him"

"Don't tell me how to raise my son!"

"Your son! What about your daughter?!"

And that's when the argument flared, you were trying to avoid this but somethings just need to happen to resolve issues.

Everyone slowly started to back away from the heated argument, everyone but Damian and Jason who stood by your side the entire time.

"Where'd you even learn to fight like this?!"

Bruce looked at you expecting an answer, but you were far to ashamed to admit who had taught you to fight.

"Khoa" you mumbled in hopes that nobody would hear you over the water in the background, but they did. You knew this would happen one day, Bruce would finally tell you to piss off and never show your face unless he needed you to.

Bruce wasn't sure what to say. He didn't think Ghost-Maker of all people would take you in and train you, his old friend now rival. Why?

"Knight"

Everyone's heads snapped towards the entry of the batcave, and there he stood in all his idiotic glory, Khoa Khan. You didn't even know he was in Gotham.

"Ghost" you nodded at him

"You good?" a question that shocked Bruce and Dick

"Yup, just finishing off here" you ruffled Damian's hair with a promise to eventually come visit when things cooled down and squeezed Jason's hand in reassurance that you'd be safe.

You looked at Khoa "I'll be up" and he turned to leave

You walked up to Bruce and everyone else went on to do their own things in the cave pretending like they weren't listening.

"Bruce-"

"Stay safe, I'll uh reach out once I've had time to cool off and think about this" Bruce spoke softly.

You nodded hanging onto his words, "Don't do anything stupid, and please stay safe"

Bruce watched as you walked away from him, he wished he could stop you from following his once friend. You had still left him with so many unanswered questions, a part of him just wished he'd been a more present father than maybe this wouldn't be happening.

But he let you walk away, he knew you'd be safe that's all that mattered to him right now.

"Love you dad" and he smiled.

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