#I just think Jason should keep Wayne r&d

[azol-otl]

just a silly little jaytim snippet I did on the fly, featuring hairy Tim Drake and Jason "Competence" Todd inspired by @ressaart's pic

"Have I ever told you how much I love this new direction you're going," Jason rumbles groggily. He must have woken up when Tim got out of bed again. "Only a million times," Tim says, laughter in his voice. Jason scoots over towards Tim, still laying on his stomach hickies covering his broad shoulder. Mocking Tim who has to go into the office today. "Well I'll say it a million more. I love this direction you're going with Tim Drake's looks," Jason says more clearly, the sleep in his voice crackling away. "You mean unshaven hobo?" Tim teases. He won't lie, he loves the amount of free time he has now that he isn't shaving every day for Robin duties. After all Robin can't look like he's a man in his 20s, even Dick didn't stay Robin as long as Tim did and he was the one who showed Tim the place he gets waxed. But now that he doesn't have to keep a close eye on his stubble, or worry about chest or shoulder hair peeking out of his tunic or god forbid accidentally ripping hair off with his suit like Dick risks, he can do other things. Like sleep. Or have sex with his boyfriend. "Only the sexiest unshaven hobo Timbo," Jason says with a wry grin and a leer. Honestly it's just some body hair, they all have it, but Jason's been insatiable since Tim stopped waxing. Tim has the bite marks on him to prove it. He leans down onto the dresser, work shirt still unbuttoned and leaving his entire torso bared, if he has to suffer than so does Jason. "Why don't you stay in bed? You can't tell me you'd rather go to a meeting full of rich fucks instead of fucking all day here." "But then how would we afford this nice loft?" Tim asks innocently. "We both know we could live off my income for the rest of our lives Tim," Jason says matter of factly. "How about it? Make Bruce actually do his job and quit, be every 20 something year old's dream and be a trophy husband." "I'm not living off your gang money Jason," Tim sighs

Jason gives Tim an incredulous look. "What? No. That money goes straight back into Crime Alley, you know that." No he doesn't. "Wait, then how do you afford all that gear?" Tim accuses. "With my job." What fucking job. "What fucking job Jason?" Oh shit that was supposed to be an inside thought. "Wayne tech? R&D? Ring a bell?" "You bought out r&d years ago! We got your identity and froze it and everything, it's under a group of shareholders now," Tim said confused before his voice started getting slightly hysterical, like it knew that something was about to come up. Jason gives an awkward look, grimacing before beginning to speak. "Yeah, Tim, those guys are all still me." What. "Yeah, they're all aliases, like really obvious ones too. I just thought you guys knew?" Jason trailed off awkwardly. Tim can't fucking believe this. "Jacobo Caballero?" "Yeah that's me." "Sanjay Raktah?" "Jay is right in the name there Tim," Jason explains. "Jane Tho—" Tim doesn't even finish that one, it's obvious in hindsight. "Yeah, and Will Beauregard, Corrin Brandt, Kathleen Coppola and Simon de la Cruz," Jason admitted with a wince. All of them. All seven members of the board…are Jason. "What the fuck Jason."

[citrinesparkles]

☆ mobile masterlist ☆

reader is gender neutral unless otherwise specified!

m a r v e l

peter parker (insomniac games)

 popcorn and broken bones - peter's nursing a broken arm. reader helps with a movie and popcorn. they reflect on his spider-activities. requested. fluff. word count: 469. warnings: food, discussion of injury, lord of the rings references.

d c

multi-character pieces

flower power - blurbs about dick, jason, tim, duke, and stephanie’s reactions to their partner surprising them with flowers. word count: 686. warnings: n/a.

and so, my heart sings - blurbs about reader catching dick/jason/tim/duke/stephanie singing. fluff. word count: 849. warnings: n/a.

period pains - blurbs about dick/jason helping reader get comfortable during their period. fluff. word count: 611. requested. warnings: reader is menstruating, food, and a suggestive comment.

barbara gordon

worth it - barbara reads a book. reader is in love. fluff. word count: 367. warnings: n/a.

bruce wayne

sleep - bruce finally comes to bed. reader is comfy. fluff. word count: 555. warnings: n/a.

you should be asleep - bruce comes home. reader is still up. the hypocrite takes issue with this. requested. fluff. word count: 537. warnings: n/a.

secrets - reader reflects on being in a relationship with bruce wayne over breakfast. fluff. word count: 376. warnings: food.

dick grayson

plastic wrap my beloathed - reader struggles with plastic wrap. dick is, as always, there to save the day. fluff. word count: 432. warnings: food.

that last wave - dick is tired. reader should be asleep. fluff. word count: 452. warnings: n/a.

sweet atlas. - dick got roughed up and came to reader for help. reader wants to know why. requested. angst/fluff. word count: 813. warnings: vague descriptions of canon-typical wounds, talk of blood.

all yours - dick finally gets home. fluff. word count: 305. warnings: n/a. i think.

birthday - dick makes a birthday surprise. fluff. word count: 206. warnings: vague discussion of food. 

donna troy

picture perfect - a walk in the park turns into a mini photoshoot. fluff. requested. word count: 268. warnings: n/a.

hair care - donna’s working. reader keeps her company. fluff. word count: 499. warnings: n/a.

duke thomas

cute keychain - you’re getting ready, and duke gets a little distracted when something familiar catches his eye. fluff. word count: 521. warnings: n/a.

comfy - reader wants affection. fluff. word count: 457. warnings: joke about manipulation.

wrapping - duke is better at wrapping gifts. reader knows this. fluff. word count: 351. warnings: discussion of wrapping gifts, but no named occasion.

jason todd

one in the morning - jason and reader are dorks in the kitchen in the middle of the night. fluff. word count: 526. warnings: food.

mah-scare-uh - makeup is difficult. harder when your boyfriend is an insufferable ninja. fluff. word count: 473. warnings: makeup application, discussion of food.

all he could do - unsurprisingly, jason gets nightmares. luckily, phones exist. angst/comfort. word count: 1,188. warnings: anxiety, panic attacks and discussion thereof, canon-typical violence, nightmares.

his apartment - jason’s apartment is becoming less of a “mine” and more of an “ours”. fluff. word count: 552. warnings: n/a.

by any other name - the different things reader calls jason. fluff. word count: 444. warnings: discussion of food, vague reference to injury.

minute long hug - reader is sad for vague reasons and just wants a hug. light angst/comfort. word count: 439. warnings: discussion of food, reader is sad.

too much - reader is just really full of love, and is pretty sure jason would self destruct if he actually knew. fluff, i think. word count: 478. warnings: n/a.

cupcake colors - jason brings home cupcakes, just like asexual!reader asked. requested. fluff. word count: 426. warnings: food.

pinched nerves and bruised eyes. - jason pinched a nerve. reader tries to strike the balance between helping and respecting boundaries, because someone is bad at accepting help. fluff with super mild angst. word count: 703. warnings: mild injury descriptions.

wherefore art thou like this? - reader has to convince jason to get out of bed and go get some food. jason is dramatic. fluff. word count: 784. warnings: vague discussion of food.

wake up call. - reader has a nightmare and a decent right hook. jason's doing his best. angst/comfort. word count: 664. warnings: clumsy communication, accidental punching.

patience, love. - four times he couldn't say i love you, and the first time he did. angst/fluff. word count: 1,317. warnings: food, patching up wounds, bad self doubt.

welcome home. - reader gets home early from a trip, jason comes home hurt, stuff hits the fan. requested. angst/comfort. word count: 2,086. warnings: arguing, reader gets threatened (accidentally), patching up wounds, discussion of danger.

milk the pig. - jason has a nightmare. reader... doesn't? blurb. fluff. word count: 433. warnings: anxiety.

moo - sequel to milk the pig. blurb. fluff. word count: 278. warnings: food.

doctor todd - vigilante!reader shows up in jason's window, wounded. requested. fluff, i think? word count: 1,875. warnings: tending wounds, mentions of food.

on masks and trust. - jason accompanies reader to an event, and on the way home, does some thinking. fluff. word count: 669. warnings: n/a.

hoodie haggling - jason's favorite hoodie is missing. requested. fluff. word count: 596. warnings: n/a.

cat (1, 2, 3, 4) - jason gets asked to watch a cat. he gets more than he bargained for. fluff with dashes of angst if you squint. total word count: 4,504. warnings: brief danger to kids, unrelated mentions of a couple arguing, food, animal illness, patching up wounds, some self doubt.

zombies - jason wakes reader up for breakfast. fluff. word count: 447. warnings: discussion of food.

quiet - reader has a headache. fluff/comfort, i guess? word count: 370. warnings: mention of reader having hair long enough to play with.

splish! splash! splosh! - jason and reader take a bath, reader spots a new scar. word count: 708. requested. fluff/hurt/comfort, mostly fluff. warnings: non-sexual nudity and physical touch, discussion of canon-typical danger and wounds.

nudge - reader tries to work, jason has other ideas. word count: 847. fluff. warnings: suggestive comments.

wrist kisses - jason is having a bad time. reader is trying to help. word count: 1,013. mild hurt/comfort. warnings: less than great emotional health, mention of food.

been dyed, done that - reader helps jason dye over the white streak in his hair. word count: 652. requested. mild hurt/comfort. warnings: n/a.

red herring - jason's hurt. he and reader listen to mysteries to pass the time. word count: 392. fluff. warnings: mention of food, discussion of implied murder

kiss - reader lives in the moment. word count: 294. fluff. warnings: n/a.

nighttime nerves - reader is anxious and irritated, and jason’s almost home. word count: 1,001. mild hurt/comfort. warnings: anxiety and associated irritability, trouble sleeping, brief mention of food.

you had me worried - reader gets a call from jason, and tries not to freak out. alt: jason calls reader, and tries not to freak out. requested. word count: 906. mild hurt comfort. warnings: canon-typical terrorism and violence, anxiety.

jason todd (continued)

guiding hand - jason and reader walk home after an amusing dinner. requested. word count: 468. fluff. warnings: vague discussions of food, eavesdropping (mostly accidental), and supposed hauntings

six in the morning - reader wakes up. jason is still up. reader is fed up. requested. fluff. word count: 503. warnings: n/a.

simple - reader is having a rough time, and jason tries to help. somewhere between hurt/comfort and angst. word count: 613. warning: vague descriptions of messy, yucky feelings on reader's part, including feelings of inadequacy. 

kon el

in the kitchen, two’s a crowd - (poly kon x reader x tim drake) surely, tim’s partners (both of whom are notoriously bad at mornings) will be in bed when he gets home. fluff. word count: 576. warnings: sleep deprivation, food, mentions of canon-typical wounds.

super cute - kon picks a terrible movie for date night. requested. fluff. word count: 565. warnings: food.

koriand'r

pancakes first - reader tries to make breakfast in bed. kory helps anyway. fluff. word count: 357. warnings: food, suggestive comments.

exhausted, you? - after meeting kory's friends, reader is understandably a little tired. requested. fluff. word count: 522. warnings: vague references to food.

moon and stars - kory is a good gift giver. fluff. word count: 311. warnings: n/a.

home - reader's in love. fluff. word count: 236. warnings: n/a.

stephanie brown

walk you home - steph’s a flirt, and you’re not immune. fluff. word count: 359. warnings: n/a.

spoilin’s the game - steph swings by. she brings food. fluff. word count: 239. warnings: shockingly, discussion of food.

tim drake

stoplight, stop bright - reader is a good driver, tim is a good passenger. fluff. word count: 362. warnings: n/a.

ketchup crimes - reader is short. tim is annoying. fluff. word count: 481. warnings: food, suggestive comments, one joking threat of violence.

in the kitchen, two’s a crowd - (poly tim x reader x kon el) surely, tim’s partners (both of whom are notoriously bad at mornings) will be in bed when he gets home. fluff. word count: 576. warnings: sleep deprivation, food, mentions of canon-typical wounds.

dance with me? - tim and reader dance in the living room of their apartment. fluff. word count: 328. warnings: n/a.

time to marie kondo this mess - reader spends a summer day cleaning up the apartment, tim comes home and is distracting. requested. fluff. word count: 744. warnings: brief mentions of food.

maybe that's why. - tim sees something gruesome on patrol, and it reopens some old wounds. requested. angst. word count: 653. warnings: discussion of parent death.

planted the stars - reader’s getting ready, and tim’s distracting. fluff. word count: 447. warnings: n/a.

late night - reader is just trying to sleep, but having a vigilante boyfriend makes that tricky. fluff. word count: 462. warnings: mention of anxiety.

hurt - tim got hurt, and reader is trying to be supportive. angst/comfort. word count: 302. warnings: mentions and mild descriptions of canon-typical wounds and injuries, fear of loss.

music (in quotation marks) - reader is studying. tim has bad taste in music. fluff. word count: 353. warnings: n/a.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Plan PDA Pt 2 (Dick Grayson X Male!Reader)

Characters: Dick Grayson X Male!Reader

Universe: DC, Batman

Warnings: None

First part: https://lazydoodlesandfanfic.tumblr.com/post/614948297825730560/plan-pda-dick-grayson-x-malereader

Request: Maybe a part 2 to PDA w/ Dick Grayson/Male!reader? Like, someone trying to push himself onto M!R during his day job & Dick coming in to save him, cus D. was going to pick M!R up after work&being all cute&protective (maybe Jason for back-up). They go to the manor for movie night & Jason sends a photo/video to all their (super)friends where D&M!R are all snuggled up & half asleep. During snuggles D softly asks M!R to marry him &M!R says yes &Jason definitely caught that on tape too

You were on break at your work, on call with your boyfriend like you did every break, sometimes to talk about each other’s day, sometimes to plan what each of you wanted for dinner, and sometimes to plan how you were going to up the ante at the next party until Bruce personally asked you to stop with the PDA. However, today you were ranting. 

You had been keeping your boyfriend up to date on the new member of staff who worked in a different department, but worked on the same floor as you, and how since he started, he had started flirting with you, and with each turn down, he amped it up. You’d outright told him that you were taken and not interested, but with no luck. He didn’t seem to believe you on the whole ‘my boyfriend is kind of infamous here in Gotham, how have you heard about our relationship?’ It went from funny to annoying real fast, and you just wanted it to be over with and to be left alone. 

“It’s honestly getting ridiculous.” You groaned over the phone. “He keeps asking if I want to get drinks with him as I’m leaving work and he won’t stop talking to me during work.”

“I know... I have an idea See you in a bit.” Dick told you before he hung up. Immediately you were on high alert- what the hell was he planning? It wasn’t long till your break ended, so you finished your lunch and went back to your desk to organise some files that Bruce had asked you to do, and it wasn’t long after that when your co worker came over to bother you again. 

“You busy?” He asked you, leaning on your desk. You didn’t look up, focussing on the papers in front of you.

“Yep.” You answered shortly. Admittedly you’d already sorted the files out into their respective piles, and now you were just putting the files in date order, which wasn’t necessary, but you still did it since you wanted to look busy. “Can I help you with something?” You asked. 

“Not right now, but you work too hard, the boss should be giving you more breaks and a bonus- maybe you could finish early today and we could go out for drinks?” He asked you. 

“Mr Wayne already gives me more than enough leeway, I assure you.” You told him with a smile, though your eyes were screaming for him to fuck off. “I don’t want to abuse the trust and respect he’s given me.” 

“Trust and respect? He doesn’t really talk to you unless he needs something, what makes you think he gives you special treatment?” Your coworker asked, fiddling with little things on your desk. You looked up at him, about ready to kindly ask him if he had any work he needed to do, when you saw someone jogging up, and you smiled with relief. 

“Hey babe!” Dick greeted gleefully, your coworker turning to the sight of the oldest son of the CEO. Dick didn’t even acknowledge the man’s presence as he rounded your desk, giving you a big kiss. “Talked with the old man- you can go home early today. Jay said he’s gonna order takeout for us. Need help packing up?” He asked you as he messed with your hair. You could practically feel the horror emanating from the coworker, who silently turned and rushed off. 

“Did you really get Bruce’s permission?” You asked him, and he grinned. 

“Absolutely. Also he’s going to ask you to be on call most of the days from now on, so if that guy ever comes over you again, ‘accidentally’ press the call button and let him hear in.” Dick told you as he grabbed your bag for you as you put the paperwork away, turned off your computer and got up with Dick. 

He drove you back to the manor, where as promised, Jason was waiting with pizza and some movies to watch, as well as the promise that if the guy doesn’t back off next time to just call him and he’d deal with it. You thanked him before getting comfy, curling up with your boyfriend on the couch while Jason took an armchair to himself. “I’m lucky to have you.” You whispered to Dick as the movie progressed. Dick looked down at you, smiling and kissing your head, before holding your hand in his. You looked down at your hands. 

“How do you feel about getting married?” He asked you. 

“Can we invite my coworker to get the point across that I’m taken?” You responded.”

“I’m serious.” He chuckled to you. You looked back up at him smiling. 

“Of course I’d marry you.” You told him, reaching up and kissing him again, before cuddling closer, and eventually falling asleep. 

Jason wasn’t asleep, in fact he heard you two talking and being cute and decided to record it, and when he heard the proposal, he sent it to basically the entire justice league, while already placing dibs on being the flower girl, immediately being told ‘absolutely not, Todd’ by Bruce.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @theplacewhererobindied @rebellionofthecattle @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lena-stan-xavier​ @lady-of-lies​ @sebstanismylife​ @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​  

[batsandbugs]

Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Even worse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I make no apologies.”

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

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

“I take offense to that.”

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

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

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

-0-0-

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

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

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

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

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

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

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

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

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

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

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

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

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

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

“He gets better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scene switches to a metal ship.

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

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

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

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

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

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

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

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

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

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

“Extinct?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not naive," she shot back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What war? What are you talking about?”

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

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

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

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

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

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

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

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

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

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

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

“Tt. Amateurs.”

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

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

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

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too) 

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

[iphoenixrising]

If it's not a problem I would like to see what happens when omega Tim safe words out?

I just so in love with how you wrote him and I know you've a thing with Dr Tim and safe words but I would really appreciate if you'll give me this with omega Tim

Have a great day/night

Babe asked for O!Tim safe wording out. Taking into account how much he’s been able to take so far in my fics, then it’s apparently going to be truly something for him to safe word, right?

….or is this just another excuse to have AAANNNNNGGGGGGSSSSSSSTTTTTT.

(I regret nothing, but, well, you might, babe :D :D)

**

It was just supposed to be Pack support. Just the Bats realizing they had an Omega in their ranks, an Omega who had been more on the outskirts than part of the inner circle, an Omega who had been walking a long road alone. Just the Dick and Jay trying to be good Alphas and take care of him. Just giving in to those crazy instincts.

It was never supposed to hurt. It was never supposed to break him. Not like the first time when he was essentially kicked out of the Pack, when his cape was pulled out from under him, and his place became a question mark instead of a given. (Falling from Wayne Towers because Ra’s is such a douce canoe, he’d been beaten to fuck, blood loss and a real concussion to blame when he wondered if they’d bother putting up a case with his suit, if he even mattered that much to Dick, if he ever really did…)

When he presented, when he didn’t have a hint of a Pack scent, It had taken an embarrassingly long time to feel like he could get anywhere near the city. Long after he’d sent Bruce back home, telling him everything with sparse details, why there wasn’t an R on his shoulder, why he couldn’t be Batman’s sidekick anymore. He’d left all the pain locked in his chest, keeping himself as impartial as possible to deliver the hard facts, ignoring the whimpering, cowering Omega in the depths of him crying out for someone, anyone to want him, need him, keep him.

Working his way back in hadn’t been easy. Keeping his presentation under wraps with scent blockers and suppressants hadn’t been either, but there was no way in hell he was going to let something like the fact he was an Omega be the reason they wanted him back. Fuck, no.

But it happened anyway. Slowly but surely, O called him more often about cases, wanted to know if he had any helpful intel. B dropped by the Tower, more than once, to seek him out, told him how buggy the Batcomputer must be this point, but he wouldn’t really know, Tim, because you always handled that, didn’t you? Dick tentatively showed up in one of his safe houses while he riding an undercover stint, pizza and terrible B sci-fi flicks, looked crushed when Tim closed the door on him by sheer self-preservation instinct.  Jason Todd showed up to fish him out of the middle of the Atlantic when a case of crimefighting gone hilariously awry ended up with a thwarted world-domination plot and his ass landed in the middle of, you know, the ocean and shit. Damian of all people demanded his presence in Gotham for the upcoming anniversary of Batcow’s induction into the family.

(When he’d blurted out, “why would you want me back? Aren’t you the one that wanted me gone in the first place? Well, I mean, got what you asked for, right? How about we pretend this conversation never happened.” 

He had been in no way prepared for the demon himself to come hunt him down with a vengeance. Robin seeking him out no matter where he hopped next on the fight crime, kick ass, and take names train.)

(That kid? Seriously.)

And as much as Dick had apologized after he finally made his way back to Gotham, had said no Omega in his Pack should have been alone, without a Bat safety net (reads as: mother hen), he had seemed genuinely upset Tim had presented outside of Gotham, on his own.

Worse, he hadn’t told anyone. Hadn’t come back.

(Like he thought that was an option at the time.)

It wasn’t until later, after they found out he presented, and were…upset he’d been on his own for so long afterwards, that he’d laughed at Dick’s angry expression, shaking his head.

“Come back? Why? To what? I didn’t have any Pack scent by then, and I sure as fuck wasn’t welcome, so why bother? I did what I had to do. We got Bruce back, didn’t we?”

He hadn’t been prepared for how strongly Dick’s musk flared, how the Alpha went deadly serious, had stepped back and palmed some pellets on instinct when facing something potentially dangerous – like a pissed off, feral Alpha male.

It had taken visible effort for Dick to get a hold of his Alpha instincts, which had absolutely perplexed him at the time because really? They hadn’t been partners, allies, friends for almost two years by then.

“It was…I tried to….Tim –“

He’d just waved off the helpless sputtering because by then, it hadn’t really mattered.

“It all worked out in the end. Don’t think about it all too hard, Dick. I don’t.” Which had been an obvious lie, but had at least appeased the Alpha enough not to viciously scent him or use the dreaded octopus hold until he was cuddled within an inch of his life.

So coming back was…different. Unexpected.

Being the official Pack Omega came with Bats all over his everything. Bats coming out of the woodwork when he was starting to run down, when his Heat was approaching, when he’d been out of the city for too long.

(It was all for nothing in the end. Because they’re only after the Omega now, not the boy that used to wear the R…)

“Heat’s easier with an A, Timmers,” Jay had started that ball rolling. “Ya ever gotta need fer the real thing, betcha I know a few Alphas what might help ya out.”

“I can call some Alphas I trust if that becomes the case.” Had been off-handed in his mind, but it had been something else to see Jason’s expression smooth out, to catch the soft noise of leather when the Red Hood’s hands had clenched into fists.

But against his better judgement, he’d let them into his Heat safehouse. At first just to let them deliver Alfred goodies. Later because they wanted to stay, to spend his Heat together.

It was fine as long as they would just leave afterwards. It was fine as long as it stayed just instincts, just Alphas and an Omega. It was fine because they still treated him like Red Robin on the streets and left him alone when he went blackout on cases outside the city.

It was fine until it suddenly wasn’t.

“Gawd, sweetheart,” Jay moans against the nape of his neck, noses against the base, “ya feel s’ good. My sweet lil’ ‘Mega. My purty ‘Mega, lettin’ me in, givin’ it up ta yer Alpha. Gonna lemme be good ta ya, yeah? That’s right. Perfect fer me, ain’t cha?”

It’s his second day, so he’s with it enough to realize what Jason said.

“Yeah he is,” Dick’s fingers in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “He’s such a good Omega for us, isn’t he Jay? He fits so nicely between us. Our cute O–“

“Red.” Tim croaks out from under Jay’s bigger body, the wet sounds of skin slapping fast and furious. He bucks up against Jay with real strength, his eyes already getting ridiculously hot and full.

“Red, dammit! Get the hell off me!”

He yells loud enough to make Jay flinch and jerk up abruptly from where he’d been laying over Tim’s back.

Dick’s hand pauses before untangling from his hair.

And even if the Heat is still burning, his body desperate for the knot that was just seconds ago opening him up for it, Tim pulls off Jason’s Alpha cock wetly, doing it himself while both Alphas seem frozen in their spots, not sure why he would safe word out at all. He seemed to be enjoying them!

Tim’s already clawing and scrambling off the bed, careful not to touch either of them, legs wobbly, messy ass and thighs on display, feeling open and raw and needy, but his chest too tight, his lungs seemingly unable to get enough air.

The bathroom door has a lock. Not that it was much of a deterrent if the Alphas really wanted to get to him, but there’s always the window big enough for him to fit through, too small for Dick or Jay. It would give him enough of a head start anyway.

At one point, he’d pulled a towel off the rack, wrapping it around himself, sitting against the bathroom door to literally block it with his body without being consciously aware of it.

He didn’t move, stayed bare ass on the cold tile floor, concentrated on getting enough air back in his lungs, biting down on his lower lip until his eyes stop spilling over, hot and full, until his chest stops stuttering with half-sobs. Until the Omega in him calms it the utter fuck down.

Soft tapping filters through when the door vibrates against his back.

Dick’s voice filters in while the inside of his head is an utter mess. “… got some pajamas for you, and-and a sandwich. Jay made coffee. Can you let me in, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call me that,” is out of his mouth before he can stop it. “I’m not your fucking Omega. I wasn’t enough to be your partner, your brother, and I’m sure as fuck not going to be your bitch either.”

“What the fuck didja just say ta ‘im?” Jay barks from outside the door.

“It’s just instincts,” he tries to snarl but his voice is hoarse, “that’s all this is. You think I don’t know that?” The laugh is scarily unhinged, “it’s not like anyone chose me, right?”

Because honestly, that hasn’t happened his whole vigilante career.

There’s silence outside the door. Stillness. The Omega writhes inside him, still needs a knot, still wants the Alphas even though Tim knows better than to think they want anything other than a warm hole, another vigilante to share the burden, an Omega’s influence in the Pack.

(He fucking gets it.)

“Apparently, we should talk.” Dick’s voice is flat, something like anger or disappointment.

“Get out,” is what Tim says instead. “Get dressed and get the fuck out. I’ll take care of myself.”

Like I’ve always done. Even back when I wore the tunic.

“Tim, we shouldn’t–“

“No,” and his own scent had changed from candy sweet to alarmingly bitter to his own nose. “You are going to get your clothes on and leave. You two don’t see me through anymore Heats. I find someone else or take care of it myself.”

“What?!” Jay sounds floored, “what the shit is this alla sudden? Ya can’t be serious right now.”

“I’m not fucking around, Jason. You leave, or I will.”

“You can’t go out smelling like Heat!”

“I dunno what the hell’s goin’ on wit’ ya but–“

He stands up on wobbly legs, moves to push the window open, knows they’ll hear the squealing because he’s not trying to be quiet about it.

“Whoa, whoa! All right, all right, fer fuck’s sake!”

“We’re getting dressed and leaving,” Dick is right up against the door. “Don’t go out the window, Tim. We’re…we’re going to go, okay?”

“Then go. Now.” He says from the window without turning around. He can’t chance his inner Omega will push him to whine at the door, to smell like open for business, take me, love me, make me yours because that is not at all where any of them are right now.

He hears them talking, their voices getting more muted as they go back to the bedroom to apparently do as he asked.

Tim climbs out of the tub, window still up, and turns on the shower without getting in, just using the noise as a deterrent.

“Don’t like it, Dickie,” he vaguely catches as the Alphas pass by the door again. “We try ta take care a’ ‘im and that’s what the fuck he says?”

“He safe worded, Jay. What does that mean to you?”

And Tim’s throat gets tight when he thinks about the implications Dick is suggesting.

“Dunno. How ‘bout ya gimme yer theories, Detective.”

“Later. I want to make sure there’s water and Alfred meals left in the feezer.”

“Fine, them let ‘im take care of his own ass. I ain’t never took advantage of a ‘Mega in my fucking life.”

Tim doesn’t leave the bathroom until he hears the front door slam closed. He darts out long enough to reconfigure the security system, makes sure no Bats are getting in without a hell of a shock.

The rest of his Heat is utterly fucking miserable, natch.

He feels wrung out and hurt by the time it’s done and he’s ready to put on the suit again.

He doesn’t put in the Batcomm, for the first time in months, and it goes back in a drawer before he takes off out the window.

[movedcrimefightr]

When Bruce dies , who's in his will and who's getting what? Is he gonna watch from heaven sighing over the Robin being idiots?????

No one. It all goes to Alfred. 

It’s definitely something that changes over time, because even in death, or especially in his death, he wants to make sure that there is something prepared not only for his kids but for gotham. 

His priority being, however, the kids. 

There’s definitely a significant portion tucked away for donations to Gotham Orphanages, still mostly in his parent’s name rather than his. The other as an emergency fund for Bat Family shenanigans. Tech upgrades. And the like, even if he does make sure that the family still has direct access to Wayne Tech and R&D. 

This he’ll probably leave with Babs and Tim. He trusts them to make the most of that. 

And I think he’ll leave his shares with either Tim or Damian, because he knows they’re the ones that might be interested at least in continuing that part of his legacy. The weight of the Wayne name and all. Regardless, he’ll definitely make sure at least all of the kids, Babs included, get in some way a share of the company. 

If he’s gone, he’ll make sure they’ll never want for anything. Or at least have some security bonds / stocks in their name. 

He’ll leave the Manor with Dick and Jason. Because he trusts them to treat it at least better than he did. To continue or at least make it a better home than he did. And to make sure there’s always going to be a place there for anyone who might need it. 

Jason and Stephanie definitely get some of his cars. If they don’t want to keep or donate the others. 

 Cass gets a letter. They all do, of course, but Cass definitely has one that’s a bit longer than the others. Because it’s definitely something he started when he first took her home. 

And he leaves his important Black Book with all his cases and the rest to Damian. Because he’s sure that boy was going to find it anyway and try to one up him by figuring out all the cold cases he couldn’t. 

Honestly, each of the kids probably get a property too. I mean he’s incredibly rich. And financially, he would really make sure they would be able to take care of themselves or at least have assets to give up should they need to. 

The cave, honestly, if he dies, he might put it in his will that they give it up. Let it end with him. Kind of a non-binding clause, because he’ll put it, just to say it. Just to maybe convince them to live their lives outside of the Bat symbol. 

Again, this probably changes every year or so. Bruce sits down and goes through all the worst case scenarios and all the bad things that’s happened in the year and adapts. But he makes absolutely for certain the Manor and the company stays with the kids. 

unprompted   :  anonymous . 

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 2/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake the baby, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

(jason)

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake Danielle, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

“Okay,” Dick nods. “I'll, um, just show you then.” Bruce looks impassive, and Tim looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself, as Dick walks past Jason and Jason follows him up the steps to the main part of the mansion.

Jason doesn't like following behind Dick. It's partly the principle of the thing, because he literally had to die and rise from the grave to get out of Dick's shadow, and even then, it's a matter of distance, and little more. He's far enough off the path of righteousness that the light that shines like a beacon onto Dick doesn't even touch him. So it feels like old news, a habit he grew out of long ago, walking behind Dick, tracing his footfalls, but it's so familiar he half expects to see those stupid fucking pixie boots on his feet when he looks down.

Then there's the other familiar part, the part he’s been struggling not to acknowledge, the awareness that’s been growing in the back of his mind since he set up camp in Gotham. Simply put, Dick is hot. His ass in spandex was the source of way too many semis popped Jason's stupid, flimsy little Robin shorts, and his ass in faded pajama pants is nothing short of miraculous either. But it's not just his body, although Jason wishes it was, not just the shape of his ass and the curve of his spine and the span of his shoulders – Dick is beautiful. He's elegant when he moves, when he laughs, when he's angry, when he's worried, when he's a fucking mess. It's impossible not to look at him, the attention he commands is probably partly due to the fact that he was raised a performer, and partly because that's just Dick.

Jason knows he's one in a long, heavily annotated list of people to fantasize about Dick Grayson. It used to keep him up at night when he was a kid, and not just in that way. There hadn't been a lot of tolerance in the streets for homosexuality – sure, it existed, Jason'd even been on the receiving end once or twice in the unlucky parts of his youth – but you didn't talk about it. So he'd suppressed it, save for those late night visits from his hand in the dark, and then he'd died. Been sprung from the grave, grew up a little, and came back to find that, surprise surprise, the world had grown up a little bit too, and not entirely for the worse. And since then, he's had encounters with men, women, couple aliens, and all that is whatever. This thing with Dick doesn't bother him on account of Dick, well, having a dick. Not anymore.

No, it bothers him because it's Dick fucking Grayson. Golden Boy, Boy Wonder, or as Jason likes to refer to him, Stupid Fucking Bastard With Stupid Fucking Sticks Who Just Won't Fucking Quit. Out of all of them, Dick's the most unchanged. Bruce is hardened, less trusting; Tim is broken; Jason is – whatever the fuck he is, beyond all hope, maybe; but Dick's never lost the spring in his step. Jason thinks he'll probably backflip right into death with a smile on his face, and he won't come back, because Dick is too damn good to be reanimated like some freakish perversion of nature. Jason calls Tim “Replacement” because it's true, Jason was replaceable, but Dick never was. Not that Jason had ever wanted to be his replacement – he hardly knows what he wanted to be to Dick then, even less what he wants to be to Dick now, but it sure as hell isn't some bullshit co-parenting gig with the whole family breathing down his neck.

Of all the fucking days he had to drag his ass down here to gossip.

Dick says, “So, this is it,” and Jason realizes they're outside his new room. The room he's staying in. The room the baby is staying in. That's all it is.

It's not small at all, of course, and the bathroom he's sharing with Dick is also not small, with a stand-up shower and a jacuzzi sized tub, because that's necessary, two sinks, and a ridiculous amount of storage space. He doesn't look at Dick's room, just takes in the furnishings of his own, a queen bed with slate-grey sheets, closet, dresser, desk, bookshelves with a good number of books already on them, and a little windowseat that for some reason makes the back of his throat feel itchy to look at.

Danielle makes a small noise in his arms, and something occurs to him. “Um, where's she supposed to sleep?” He's not an expert, but he's pretty sure babies need cradles – actually, and a lot of other shit, like diaper cream, special baby soap, pacifiers, those sling contraptions he sees people walking around with, and probably a billion other things he has no freaking clue about.

Dick says, “Huh. Good question.”

Helpful, Jason thinks. She can't sleep with him, can she? What if he rolls on top of her? What if she rolls off the bed? What if he has a nightmare and pummels her to death in his sleep? The thought makes him want to be sick, what is he thinking, trying to be some kind of fucking caregiver –

“Jason? You okay?”

Jason blinks. It dawns on him that he's been frozen in place for several seconds now, mind overloaded with the sheer volume of information he doesn't know, endless blank pages supplemented by a thoroughly sourced index of his fears. It's not like he planned for this – ever – he's pretty sure parental ineptitude runs in the family, because his mom sure as fuck never read What to Expect When You're Expecting.

He says, “Doesn't she need some kind of special baby doctor?”

Dick nods. “Bruce'll have Leslie come by and look at her soon. According to the hospital records, she missed her three-month check-in, so.”

“Dick.” Jason tries, and fails, probably, to keep the overwhelming helplessness he's feeling out of his voice. “What the fuck, man – this is crazy. I can't – I don't – where is she supposed to sleep?”

“I can answer that,” comes Alfred's clipped tone from the doorway. Jason turns to see the older man hauling an enormous, tall box into the room.

Jason says, “The hell?” at the same time that Dick rushes forward and says, “Here, let me help you,” and that about sums it up, he thinks.

“Her sleeping quarters,” Alfred says. He and Dick lay the box down, and Jason feels his stomach churn unpleasantly at the picture on the front of a smiling, drooling blonde-haired baby standing in a white wooden crib, fat little fists wrapped around the railing.

“You work fast, Alfie,” Dick comments, hauling another box into the room. This one says Changing Table on the side, and then Alfred pushes a rocking chair in, and Jason will be damned if it isn’t a whole fucking matching baby bedroom set.

“Where the hell did you even get this?” he asks, incredulous. He’s been at the manor two hours tops, hardly enough time for even Alfred to go out shopping for an entire room’s worth of furniture.

“Same-day delivery,” Alfred says smoothly. “I find that being a frequent, loyal customer expedites the process somewhat.”

“You don’t fucking say,” Jason mutters under his breath. Dick is now bringing in box after box of diapers, six huge shopping bags full of baby crap Jason would rather do just about anything than sort through, and some disassembled swing-looking contraption that promises “15 soothing melodies and nature sounds”. The room, suddenly, doesn’t seem so big anymore.

“Hmm,” Dick frowns, looking around. He must be noticing the same thing as Jason. “Honestly, I don’t see all this fitting in here. Alfie, what do you think?”

“You have the adjoining room, do you not, Master Richard?” Alfred replies. He surveys their haul, looking satisfied. Jason feels a tiny bit like he’s going to have a nervous breakdown, which is more or less where he’s been since Danielle was placed in his arms to begin with.

He’d been deadly serious when he’d told Bruce that he’d take her and protect her, but true to half-cocked form, he hadn’t even begun to parse out what that meant. Now that he’s standing in a room that looks like a Babies R’ Us blew up in it, with a human being the size of a loaf of bread snoozing and twitching in his arms, he doesn’t know what he could have possibly been thinking. What Bruce could possibly have been thinking, letting him walk away with her.

Well. Actually, Jason thinks, that about tracks for Bruce’s idea of fatherhood. In Jason’s experience, anyways.

“We’ll put the crib here, I think,” Dick says, leaning the box against the wall opposite the bed. “Changing table can go next to it, and I guess put the rocking chair in the other corner? Bottle stuff should go in the bathroom, and, hmm…” he trails off. “Yeah, we’ll just put the swing in my room. Don’t worry about it, Alfie, I’ll take care of it. You’ve done more than enough, seriously.”

“I’ll leave it to you boys, then,” Alfred says, picking up some of the discarded shopping bags and tucking them under his arm. He gives Jason a long look, like there’s something he wants to say, but seems to think better of it. Jason doesn’t know whether or not to be disappointed.

The silence that falls once Alfred leaves is awkward, bordering on oppressive. Dick doesn’t seem to notice, just keeps opening boxes and stuffing things in drawers and putting on a show of looking like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Jason knows better - can see how haphazardly he’s putting things away, how he’s moving around just to avoid being still. It’s a relief, in a way, to know that he’s not the only one completely out of his depth.

Still, he can’t deny Dick is being about a billion times more useful than him. What else is new.

“I’m just gonna stick this in the closet,” Dick says about a box containing a carseat. “We’ll figure it out later.”

Jason frowns. His car right now is a piece of crap Volvo that certainly shouldn't be hauling around anything as fragile as a baby. Not like he can take her on the bike, either. If they have to make a quick getaway, he’s looking at one-handed free running, or getting some new wheels posthaste.

Danielle grunts and yawns, stretching her tiny hands up and clawing at the material of his jacket. He pats her back, and she settles back into the crook of his arm. It tears at him, a little, watching her burrow into the leather, mouth occasionally opening and sucking, leaving little damp spots in her wake. She’s warm as hell now, practically a furnace, and he frankly wishes he had taken the damn jacket off before she got all comfortable, but he’d rather eat his own gun than put her down. It’s shocking to realize, but he wants her to be closer, wants to hold her right against his skin, against his heartbeat. He’s never felt this way about anything before, about anyone.

He clears his throat. “You seem bizarrely familiar with all this crap,” he says to Dick. “How do you - I mean, I don’t even have a clue what that thing is,” he gestures to the piece of fabric Dick is holding. It looks like the world’s longest scarf.

“It’s a wrap,” Dick says. “It’s for holding the baby. Or ‘wearing’, I think they call it. It’s nice for keeping your hands free. Roy had one for Lian, but it had a lot more buckles than this.”

Jason blinks. Roy, of course. Roy’s told him how much Dick has helped him out when he got full custody of Lian, back when she was still a baby. No wonder Dick is able to snap into action so easily. Jason’s spent a little time around Roy’s daughter, but she’s usually with her grandparents when they get together. For the best, since most of his team-ups with Roy have ended in shootouts and/or catastrophic explosions.

Just another reason he has absolutely no fucking business being anywhere near an infant.

“Hey,” Tim says from the doorway. “Um, here’s this pillow thing.” He holds out a box labeled Infant Lounger, and Jason is officially calling bullshit, there’s absolutely no way babies need this many goddamn surfaces to simply exist upon when, as far as he can tell from his one hour of baby experience, there’s no chance you’d ever want to put one down anyways. It’s all just one big racket - except for the diapers, probably.

“Thanks, Tim,” Dick sighs, opening the box and pulling out the lounger. It’s covered in a cutesy little whale pattern. “Well, that’s adorable, isn’t it?”

Tim looks skeptical. “If you say so.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You didn’t come up here just to deliver a whale pillow, Replacement.” Dick shoots him a reproachful look, but screw him. “What’d you find out?”

Tim, to his credit, looks relieved to have an excuse to get to the real reason he’s there. “Well, we can officially rule out anyone from Intergang as a suspect. Their whole operation is a bust now. Word is Mannheim is pulling all the survivors out and regrouping, probably off-world.” He nods to Jason. “We’ve ruled the League of Assassins out, too.”

“So, who does that leave?” Dick asks. “Locals? Who are the major players in the East End?”

“There aren’t any,” Tim says. “The whole neighborhood’s been a power vacuum since...well.”

“Since me,” Jason snorts.

“It’s all small-time gangs, nobody with the firepower or the logistic capability to pull something like this off,” Tim goes on. “Which means we’re either looking at somebody new, or there’s a major territory grab that we somehow haven’t caught wind of.”

“Who patrols the East End now, anyways?” Jason asks.

“Nobody, unless Barbara sends the Birds out there. Used to be you,” Tim says mildly.

Jason works his jaw. “Last I checked, your boss is the one who wanted me out of there.”

“Last I checked, you didn’t take orders from him,” Tim replies, voice cool and even. Jason suddenly understands what an infant lounger is for - it’s a safe resting spot to hold your baby when you need both hands to throttle your aggravating family members.

“Oh, knock it off, both of you,” Dick says irritably. “Tim, are you running down leads for this?”

“I guess so,” Tim shrugs. “I was here on the Intergang expansion in the first place. Bruce and I are going to check out the bodies later this evening, get ballistics reports and see what else we can find. The paperwork is coming in pretty slow on the law enforcement side of things.”

Jason twists his mouth in disgust. “GCPD, dragging their heels? Shocking.”

“Pretty much,” Tim affirms. “They’re just happy the Intergang faction’s dealt with. I don’t think they want to look into it too closely.”

Even with a baby on the hit list, Jason thinks bitterly. It’s enough to make a person want to pick up and move altogether.

Danielle moves suddenly in his arms, stretching her tiny body and kicking one leg out against his ribs. She whines, twisting her head away, and when she turns back to look at him, her brown eyes are wide and watery.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “Dick, help. She doesn’t look happy to see me.”

Dick appears at his shoulder. Danielle whines again, flailing her limbs against Jason’s chest.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Dick coos, right in Jason’s ear. Oh, sweet Jesus, Jason did not think this one through at all. He feels his face flush, and has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at Dick to back the fuck up.

“Look at you,” Dick goes on, oblivious. “You’re awake now, huh? You need some attention, sweetie?” His breath is warm against Jason’s neck. Jason is going to crawl out of his skin.

Danielle’s eyes flicker towards the sound of Dick’s voice. She grunts, then turns abruptly and mouths at Jason’s armpit. Jason feels like his heart is gonna jump out of his goddamn throat. It’s been - God, he doesn’t even know, months? The better part of a year? - since he was this close to another person without his helmet on. His brain is screaming at him, escape, fight, neutralize, but even louder, there’s a piece of him overriding everything, a fist deep in his chest clenched around something he thought he’d left back in the Pit.

Danielle whines louder, kicking, and the fist clenches tighter.

“I don’t - ” he starts to say. His voice comes out breathy and ragged, he stops. Swallows. Get a grip, for fuck’s sake. “Maybe you should take her, I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.”

“Just rock her,” Dick suggests. His arm comes around to Jason’s elbow, and now Jason can’t help it, he jerks away violently. The little body in his arms goes stock still for a moment, hiccups, and then the sound of wailing fills the room.

Jason swears. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, like that means a damn thing to a baby. “Shit, I’m really sorry, Danielle.” He holds her upright against his shoulder, rubbing her back like he’s seen Roy do with Lian when she’s upset. “I’m an asshole, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She hiccups again, and makes a displeased noise that sounds vaguely chastising. Fair enough, he deserves it. Anything is better than crying.

Dick is looking at him, overbright, and Jason averts his eyes. Briefly, he makes eye contact with Tim, who looks incredibly uncomfortable. Good.

“I think we’ll leave the morgue investigation to you guys,” Dick says to Tim. He seems to have realized he overstepped. “There’s a lot to do here, and I still have my regular patrol. I’m guessing you’re going to the docks this evening,” he addresses Jason.

“I want to, but.” Jason rocks Danielle pointedly. “Kinda got my hands full here.”

“You don’t think we can leave her for a few hours?”

“What the fuck, no,” Jason says, incredulous. “Even if she wasn’t being targeted by some psycho, you can’t just leave a baby, what’s wrong with you.”

“Even I knew that,” Tim says, obnoxiously.

“She wouldn’t be alone, jeez,” Dick protests. “Alfred is here.”

“I’m protecting her,” Jason reminds him darkly. “Alfred has enough shit on his plate.”

“Okay,” Dick says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “She’s pretty attached to you anyways, so you’re right, it’s probably best if we do that.”

Jason isn’t sure whether or not he’s being patronized, but flips Dick the bird just to be safe. Dick pretends not to notice.

“Drake, your input is being requested in the Cave,” Damian announces from the doorway. Christ, it’s a whole fucking family reunion, and he can’t escape. “Personally, I hadn’t even noticed your absence.”

Tim’s expression goes from vaguely aggrieved to fully constipated, which soothes some of Jason’s irritation. Bruce’s demon spawn is a complete and utter terror, but he’s so like his mother that Jason can’t help liking him. He’s not stupid enough to look down on him in a fight - he heard secondhand what Robin did to Victor Zsasz - but his heart’s just not in it when he spars with Damian. So sue him, he’s got a soft spot for kids, no matter how lethal they are.

“Keep me updated,” Jason says to Tim.

Tim nods, one hand on the doorframe as he exits. “Will do. Sure you don’t want to come along? Autopsy is daytime work.”

Jason grimaces. “Been there, done that. You guys can poke at dead people, I prefer to get my answers from ones that are breathing.”

Damian scoffs audibly. “Breathing until you finish with them, you mean?”

Jason ignores him. He turns his attention back to Danielle, who is starting to mouth at the collar of his jacket more aggressively. Shit, he probably shouldn’t let her do that. This jacket isn’t too old, at least, but he’s smoked his way through a dozen packs of cigarettes in it already, not to mention all the bad guy spatter it’s probably absorbed. Surface cleaners can only do so much.

“Perhaps you’d like to offer her this,” Damian says imperiously, holding out a bottle. “You know, children her age require feeding every three to four hours.”

“...Thanks,” Jason says, suspicious. He doesn’t think Damian would attack him when he’s holding a baby, but he looks like he’s considering it. Warily, he takes the bottle. It’s warm. “Did you make it?”

“It’s infant formula,” Damian replies bitingly. “It requires no scientific mastery.”

Alfred made it, then. Jason exchanges a look with Dick, who quirks an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.

“You don’t need to stay, Damian,” Dick says. “I’m just gonna be putting together furniture. You probably have homework to do, right?”

Damian looks affronted. “My studies aren’t so taxing, Grayson. What furniture?”

“Baby furniture, for Danielle. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “You’re dismissing me because you want me to argue, so that I’ll stay and help you.”

Dick is the picture of innocence. “I really don’t need help. I assembled all the furniture in my apartment, I know what I’m doing.”

“I also know what you’re doing.” Damian walks to the box holding the crib pieces, hands on his hips. “A simpleton could do this.”

“They make it pretty user friendly.”

“I’ll get my tools.”

Dick looks quite pleased with himself as Damian rushes off. Jason can’t help but laugh.

“Nice,” he says, shaking his head at Dick’s impish grin. “Hold her for a second, I’m gonna take my jacket off.”

Danielle whines more insistently when he passes her to Dick, and doesn’t stop when he takes her back. He cradles her upright in one arm, bouncing her a little to keep her distracted, and touches the nipple of the bottle to her mouth. She latches on eagerly, and he tries and fails not to smile at her enthusiasm, the delighted kicking of her legs as she eats, her eyes trained on his face like laser beams. He feels - full, almost, like a balloon in his chest is slowly filling up, a window he’d nailed and soldered shut is being pried open again.

There are holes in Jason’s memory, things the Pit couldn’t restore, fragments of his life that were beaten out of him, or left in the ground, or atrophied and rotted away during his lost year after waking up. When he first came back to Gotham, he’d filled all those empty spaces with rage and spite, but he’d burned through it all in a few months and found there wasn’t enough left over to keep filling them, to stop him from noticing the edges of remembering in his mind, the sensation of familiarity that would abruptly fade into nothing. He’s learned to navigate around them, but there’s never been a moment that he hasn’t known they are there. They’re a constant reminder that he died Jason Todd and came back Almost Jason Todd, the same person but without all the pieces.

The feeling he has, feeding Danielle - the warm smell of her, the force of her gaze, so human and yet so alien, the clutch-and-pull of her small hands against the fabric of his shirt and the scarred skin of his hand - it’s like she’s reached right into the center of him and dragged forth the memory of being whole. He isn’t, he won’t ever be, but he can remember it, and it absolutely takes his breath away.

“You good?” Dick asks, softly.

Jason swallows. “Uh-huh,” he manages. It’s a damn good question. Jason isn’t frequently good, he’s often satisfied, often pissed off, often (less often, now) steeped so deep in madness he’s out of his mind. This is something else, he thinks. Something close to shattered, but it’s also close to good, because even though he’s in a thousand goddam pieces, the pieces, for once, are all there.

“Wow, Jay,” Dick murmurs. “You’ve really got a way with her, you know.”

Jason waits to answer until he’s sure his voice won’t betray how shaken apart he is. “She just doesn’t know any better yet,” he says. “Probably at this stage, it’s all the same to them.”

“She didn’t eat this well for me,” Dick says, and Jason can’t tear his eyes away from Danielle to look, but he can hear Dick smiling. “Face it, Jaybird, she chose you.”

“Shut up,” Jason replies, but it’s so subdued it’s practically a whisper. He can’t even deny it - she did choose him, and even if he can’t fathom why, even if it terrifies him, he can feel it all the way down to his bones. He’ll do anything for this little girl. Shit, she’s already got him shacking up in the last place he’d ever want to be. She’s got him thinking about sensible family cars, for Christ’s sake. He hasn’t even known her a full day, but she chose him, and he knows he’d die for her as instinctively as breathing.

“This had better not take long,” Damian says, reentering the room with his toolbox in hand. “I have training to finish.”

Dick laughs, but it’s a little off, somehow. Jason still doesn’t look - if he had to guess, he would say that Damian managed to surprise Dick, but that doesn’t seem very likely.

“Sure thing, Dami. The changing table is probably the easiest, if you have things to do.” Whatever Jason thought he heard, it’s not there anymore. Dick’s voice is back to being smooth and casual, pointedly so, which probably means Damian’s about to -

“In other words, you want me to assemble the crib,” Damian says flatly.

“Pretty sure I said changing table,” Dick repeats, exasperated.

“Enough with your mind games Grayson. They aren’t subtle, you’re embarrassing yourself. I’ll assemble the crib, since you seem to think it’s too challenging for you.”

“If that’s what you want,” Dick says evenly. Jason finally catches his eye, and he winks. “I’ll start working on the changing table - the way she’s eating, we’re gonna need it soon.”

Anxiety flits across Damian’s face, and he scowls hard at Jason a split second later. Jason shrugs one shoulder at him peaceably. He’d be lying if he said he had no reservations about changing diapers either, but hell, he signed up for this, didn’t he? People even more dysfunctional than him must have figured it out over the years. And considering his extracurricular activities, he can hardly be getting squeamish over a little baby poop.

Danielle, having paused her eating to look around, makes a short fussing sound and then latches onto the bottle again. Jason adjusts his hold and brings her up a little higher. She curls into him automatically, the fingers of her little hand splaying against his shirt, right over the intersection of scar tissue fanning across his chest. He’s never let anyone touch him there before. It doesn’t feel….bad. At all.

It feels like waking up after a long, disorienting dream. Like climbing down a mountain and taking the first breath of oxygen-rich air.

It feels like being home.

***

(tim)

“Here’s what we know,” Bruce says, pulling up the footage from Oracle. “One month ago, Cy Reynolds and a couple dozen henchmen took over the Eastern port for Intergang. They demo’d the warehouses the Dragons were operating out of, and the old Falcone hotel. They brought in tech, weapons, and what appears to be equipment from Apokolips to construct a boom tube.”

“Just what we need,” Tim mutters.

“Two days ago, Cy Reynolds, his wife, and their adult son all turned up dead. Each was shot twice in the head, execution style. Oracle, any update on ballistics?”

“Negative,” Barbara’s voice comes through the computer speakers. “Forensics are taking their sweet time.”

“We have sixteen other bodies, identified as Reynolds’ second tier of command within Intergang and their respective families.” Bruce pauses. “This includes three children. A fourth was targeted, identified as the child of Mitchell Howard and Linda Torres, but she somehow survived.”

“And made it all the way to St. Aden’s in Coventry,” Tim finishes. “Records say Torres lived on the edge of Little Italy.”

“Has your group seen any signs of new groups operating on the East End?” Bruce asks. “There’s a short list of suspects who could have pulled this off in two days.”

“If there are, they’re way underground,” Barbara says. “You can rule out the Golden Dragons, most of the ones left in that area joined up with Intergang. They’re focused on turf wars in Chinatown, they wouldn’t bother defending the Eastern port.”

“That fits with our intel,” Tim says, trying not to sound annoyed. This started as his op, and he’d ruled out the Dragons from the very beginning. Bruce’d had barely a passing interest until Jason got involved, and now Tim has been demoted to pinch-hitter on his own case. He’ll deal, but after the year he’s had, it’s a little hard not to take it personally.

“The killers’ modus operandi ranges from shooting to stabbing, which suggests human suspects,” Bruce says. “Targeting families suggests the mob.”

“The Falcones used to control the whole east side,” Tim says thoughtfully. He’s surprised it never occurred to him. He’d been so focused on new territory feuds, he hadn’t stopped to think that it might be an old territory feud. Maybe he deserves to be a pinch-hitter. “Any chance they’re making a comeback?”

There’s a flurry of typing on Barbara’s end. “Funny you should mention them. We had five bodies from the Falcone family turn up over the past six months. Some of these could be accidental, but I tagged it as suspicious after the third one.”

“So, a rival family,” Tim says, slowly. He racks his brain for a list of crime families in Gotham’s history. Who’d even bother going after the Falcones these days? They haven’t been truly active in Gotham for over two decades, but, Tim supposes, some rivalries never die. “The Maronis are locked up….maybe the Odessa Mob? Could they be making moves?”

“Nightwing would know if they were expanding past Bludhaven,” Bruce says. Fair enough. Wouldn’t make sense for the Russians to stage a hostile takeover when they’re barely holding ground across the harbor, anyways. “Who are the victims from the Falcones?”

“That’s the weird part. They were all straight, as far as I can tell. One shoe store manager, two housewives, a scuba instructor, a graduate student, and an entrepreneur. Barely a drug charge between them.”

“Could they be unrelated?” Tim asks, glancing through the reports..

“No,” Bruce says decisively. “It’s too much of a coincidence. These murders are all connected.”

“I agree,” Barbara says. “Based on proximity alone, but combined with the destruction of the old hotel, it’s all adding up to something.”

Tim doesn’t argue. They’re right - if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that coincidences are never just that in Gotham. The connection is there, they just need to find it.

“That hotel was Carmine Falcone’s crown jewel, back when he was in power,” Bruce says. “If the Falcone family is behind this, they could have been retaliating.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of bodies to drop just in retaliation,” Tim says doubtfully. “And to what end? If it is them, it has to be more than that.”

Barbara puts new footage on their screen. “Here’s what I pulled from last night’s traffic cams. Looks like the person who killed the baby’s parents is the same one who dropped her at the orphanage.”

Tim studies the grainy figure on the screen. They’re wearing a hood and limping slightly, but from the approximate size and shape, they appear to be -

“A female assailant,” Bruce says. “Not a pro. This person couldn’t have taken down a man like Reynolds.”

Tim stretches his arms over his head. “So, multiple killers.”

“Fits the mob angle. Give me an hour or two, and I’ll have an ID,” Barbara says. “Oracle out.”

Tim watches Bruce pull stills from the footage and run them against his video backlogs. On a separate screen, he watches Colin draw baby Danielle out of the Safe Surrender box, look around at the camera, and then hurry out of view.

“Red Robin, what exactly is going on over there?” Barbara asks quietly over the comm in his ear. She must have opened a private channel, because Bruce doesn’t show any indication he’s hearing her too.

“I’m gonna hit the training mat,” he says to Bruce. He gets no acknowledgement, which is more or less what he’s learned to expect.

“It’s been kind of a shitshow here,” he replies, once he’s out of earshot of Bruce. “What have you heard?”

“That Robin brought home a baby, and Red Hood adopted it, and now he’s moving back in to take care of it.”

“You’re pretty much caught up, then,” he says, stifling a laugh. “And Nightwing is helping, which is even weirder.”

“No shit,” she muses. “He’s helping Red Hood?”

“I guess? I was just with them, they’re kind of getting along, actually.”

“They had a decent rapport going when Nightwing took over as Big B,” Barbara says. “Robin wasn’t crazy about it. I think he wanted N all to himself.”

Tim considers this. “I always thought Robin didn’t like Hood because of his methods.”

“I’m not about to psychoanalyze Robin on a line I know he could hack if he wanted to,” Barbara says dryly. “But I’m sure that’s part of it. Hang on, B is lighting up the family line.”

Tim switches over. Bruce says, “We’re going to have to make some adjustments to patrols, while Danielle is in our care.”

“Black Bat and Batgirl are still in Florida,” Barbara says. “They should be wrapping up their case in the next day or two. I’ll put them on the South End when they get back.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “Signal should also be back in Gotham by then. Red Robin, you’ll need to put activities with the Titans on hold. I’ll have you covering the Northeast corner, including Crime Alley and the Bowery.”

“That’s my turf,” Jason snarls over the comm. “You can’t just go giving away my patrol. I gave you the East End, and look how that fucking turned out.”

“I wasn’t finished. Red Robin will cover those areas when Red Hood is otherwise occupied.”

Tim closes his eyes for a long second. Great. Now Jason will be gunning for him, again.

“Nightwing, your coverage of Bludhaven is non-negotiable. Robin will join you, temporarily, and fill in for you on the nights you need to be absent.”

“Really?” Dick sounds pleased. “Hey, Robin, did you hear that?”

“Of course I did,” Damian says. “Father, I accept this assignment.”

Unfair, Tim thinks, petulantly. He thinks Barbara’s probably right about Damian wanting Dick all to himself, but they all want Dick all to themselves. It’s complete bullshit that Jason and Damian, by far the least deserving, are the ones getting him.

“Oracle, we’ll need the Birds to fill in the gaps.”

Tim can almost hear Barbara rolling her eyes. “That’s what we’ve been doing, Batman. I’ll ask Huntress to keep her eyes on the Narrows. I’ve already got half my monitors dialed in to the East End. If anything happens there, I’ll be first to know.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “We’ll debrief again after tonight.”

There’s a long pause, and then Jason says, “Replace - Red Robin, we better talk if you’re taking my patrol tonight.”

Tim swallows. “Just so you know, I didn’t ask B to assign me.”

“No shit you didn’t. No one in their right mind would. No idea why he’s gone off the fucking deep end about this, like we haven’t dealt with way worse.” Jason sounds aggrieved. Tim can hear baby squealing noises in the background.

“Twenty bodies in one weekend isn’t nothing,” Barbara says. “This only happened because we were lax on patrol. No one was covering that area while Red Robin was gone.”

“I had informants on the ground,” Tim protests. “We were in touch.”

“It’s not your fault, Red,” Dick says immediately. “Oracle didn’t mean that. We should have been covering. It’s our bad, not yours.”

“I could have been covering,” Jason grumbles.

“Last time there were this many dead gangsters on the docks, you were covering.”

“Oh, fuck you, Boy Wonder.”

“Boys,” Oracle says, none too pleasantly. “I’m muting the family line now, so you’ll have to bicker like schoolgirls in person. Oracle out.”

Well, if he’s on the training mat anyways, he might as well get a workout in. Tim grabs his bo staff and scrolls through the training menus on his phone until he finds one that’ll thoroughly kick his ass. It’s stressful, having this many people in the manor. Tim doesn’t have a single clue how to act around a baby, much less how to act around Jason Todd with a baby.

Conner will find this hilarious, he thinks, whenever he gets back to Earth. Not the murders, obviously, but he’s always taken particular delight in Tim’s family drama. He’ll have to tell him about it next time they see each other - if they ever see each other - if Conner is even talking to him -

Tim shakes his head roughly. He’s been doing so well at not thinking about Conner, and truth be told, a hiatus from the Titans will probably do him a world of good on that front. He can’t take any more of Bart’s overcompensating, or Gar and Cassie’s whispering when they think he isn’t paying attention. At least when Bruce and Damian second-guess him, it’s not because they think he’s heartbroken, or whatever.

Because he’s not.

Probably.

The program starts, and then immediately ends when Tim takes a holographic missile to the chest. Crap. He hits the restart button, pushes everything else out of his mind. Dealing with his encyclopedia of dysfunctional relationships can wait. This, at least, he knows how to do.

***

[slowlydrowningme]

I would love a Damian x reader (female) that is angsty probably teen for the rating. The prompt could be like meeting at a gala and the reader not having a nice family and Damian takes a liking to her? If that makes sense😂

Title: Not the One You Were Meant to Find (Pt 1)

Rating: T 

Word Count: 3143

Warnings: underage drinking

Pairing: Damian x fem!reader (though you really only get a tiny bit from her)

Notes: So this spiraled out of control and now there’s a second part coming.  Maybe more if it becomes it’s own beast like it’s been demanding.  Sometimes my writing controls me more than I control it.  And sometimes prompts take on a life of their own.  Hope this is close to what you were wanting.

Standing proud at the top of the stairs of the mezzanine level of the Wayne Manor, Damian found himself scanning the attendees of the gala he had organized himself.  The very first one his father had trusted him to handle completely and while he remained stoic, Damian was definitely pleased with the turnout.  The cause, a fundraiser for the local endangered animal foundation, had drawn in a large crowd and the theme of a wildlife masquerade brought even more buzz with it.  For that, he had his oldest brother to thank because he had spent weeks trying to figure out the proper theme.  Something the older man had come up with in a matter of minutes once Damian had bothered to approach him for help.

“Here.”  Damian looked from the glass of champagne that appeared in his line of sight to the person holding it out to him.  Though most would have no idea who it was, Damian had been made aware of each of his brother’s masks for the night.  So, seeing the full faced hawk mask, Damian knew it was Dick behind it.

But instead of taking the offered glass, he chose to just look at him instead, unimpressed.  Considering how he was only nineteen and not old enough to legally drink and there were actual officers, including the commissioner, in attendance he knew better than to tempt fate. At least in that manner.

“No one knows it’s you under that mask.  Just take the drink, relax, and enjoy your victory for the night, Little D.”  Taking a moment to mull over his suggestion, Damian released a sigh and took the glass.  Of all his brothers, Dick was the least to steer him wrong.  He had been his father for a portion of time and the first person he had been able to trust fully after his mother brought him to Gotham.

“Might I recommend discretion, Master Damian,” Alfred said gently as he walked past them with a few bottles of wine, undoubtedly heading toward the bar.

“Always, Alfie,” Dick responded for him, clasping a hand on Damian’s shoulder before heading up to the next level to mingle some more.

Once again alone, he took a moment to look over the crowd that had thickened even more through the eye holes of the owl mask he wore.  There were plenty of wild cat masks, which he and Dick had joked about as people had started coming in.  Wealthy people wanting to show their power by being a lion or tiger.  He was amused to find a few less appreciated animals like zebra or giraffe in the crowd.  But the sight of a peacock was what caught his attention the most.  The domino style mask adorned with what he hoped were fake feathers on one side of the mask was beautiful in its vibrancy.  But the woman wearing it seemed young, perhaps around his age, and unsure of her place in the room.

Taking a few steps down, toward the woman who had caught his eye, Damian allowed himself a moment to fully look her over.  She stood next to a man that radiated power, though he wore a full lion mask so he couldn’t tell if he knew the man or not.  But she didn’t look like she belonged.  Physically, she screamed society.  The deep teal gown she wore fit like it was made for her and the material, he could tell, was anything but cheap.  But the line of her mostly bare shoulders and the tense muscles of her back told a different story.  

She was uncomfortable in present company.  And Damian craved to change that.

That thought gave him pause at the final step of the stairs he had been occupying just moments ago. He didn’t get emotional.  He wasn’t Dick.  And he didn’t act irrationally.  He wasn’t Jason.  But he also didn’t shy away from an unknown situation without all the facts.  He wasn’t Tim.

Champagne glass still in hand, he slipped the other one into the pocket of his tailored pants as he kept his gaze on the woman.  The split-second static in his ear caught his attention, but he made sure not to divert his attention for fear of losing sight.

“All levels are still good from my station,” Tim’s voice filtered into his ear from the discrete earpiece.

“Copy.  Same from out here,” Jason chimed in.  While Tim had taken up residence in the cave for the duration of the gala, Jason had offered to wander around the room and directly interact with the other security personnel for the night.

“Copy that, keep the line open between you two but close R and I unless you need us.”  Damian couldn’t help but roll his eyes, knowing Dick said that because they were expected to actually hold conversations with people.

But at the same time, he found himself glad because he definitely wanted to hold a conversation with the woman he still had his sights on.

He sighed softly as Tim and Jason confirmed Dick’s order and he heard the line click shut between them. Glancing upward, he spotted Dick leaning over the railing as he spoke with some woman standing next to him.  He caught Damian’s eye and raised his glass in a cheers motion before turning back to the lady and turned on his charm.

It was a skill Damian wished he had learned at some point.  But unfortunately, it seemed like Dick was really the only Wayne who could turn it on and off with ease like their father.  

And as he turned back to look at the woman who had caught his eye, he hoped he could at least be a fraction as charming as his brother.  For once in his life he wouldn’t even mind being on Tim’s level.  But he would just have to make do and try his best.

But he’d have to find her again because while the man was still in the same spot, the alluring woman was no longer with him.

Scanning the room, he tried to locate those feathers that had caught his eye to begin with, but was having a hard time.

“Lose something?”

It was only thanks to years of training that Damian didn’t jump at the sound of Jason’s voice in his ear. But it wasn’t coming through the piece. Glancing next to him, he frowned at his older brother in the half mask fashioned after an eagle.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re looking for something.  Or someone? What or who did you lose?” Turning back to the crowd, Damian scanned over the people again.

“Just someone who caught my eye.”

“A female someone?”

“Todd.”  Jason’s chuckle did nothing to quell Damian’s annoyance with the older man.  “You should be working the room, not bothering me.”

“I am, just subtly. Plus,” he paused, looking down at Damian with a wide, teasing smile, “I happen to know the woman in the peacock mask is over at the bar, avoiding the man she was with.”

And with that, his brother headed up the stairs Damian was still standing by.

Damn this family and their observant natures.

But it did make it easier for Damian at the moment, turning his green eyes to the bar where he spotted the woman he had indeed been looking for.  And with one last deep breath, he began making his way over to where she leaned against it, chatting with the bartender as he poured another glass of wine.

Setting his empty champagne glass on the countertop for the bartender to take away, Damian took a moment to look at the woman who was now sipping on a glass of white wine.  She smiled at him over the glass before flicking her eyes in the direction of the man he knew she was here with.  If he wasn’t so good at reading body language, thank you Talia for making sure of that before sending him off to Gotham, he would have read it as a nervous tick.  

But because he knew, he could tell it was more fear and that was concerning.

To play it off, Damian took up the fresh glass of champagne the bartender placed next to him and turned to lean against the counter so he could give off an air of casual when he was actually taking a moment to size up the man who was much easier to get a look at now.

He was someone important, but it was hard to tell who he was given the mask, but the men around him looked like they deferred to him.  He knew he could ask Tim to do a scan on him and figure out exactly who he was, but he would have to move away from the woman in order to do so and that was not something he wanted.

Especially now that he had seen that look.

But he memorized the look of the man and the mask, taking a moment to look at his watch and take note of the time so he could pull up the footage later tonight, he turned back to the woman.

“A lovely theme, isn’t it?” She spoke softly just as Damian had been about to say something, though he wasn’t actually sure what he would have said.

“A worthy one,” he replied with a smile.  Of course, it was a little self-serving since it was his gala after all.  But this woman didn’t know.  Or at least he didn’t think she knew.  “It is a shame people couldn’t be a little more creative with their chosen masks, though.”

“Yes, it would be nice to have a bit more variety instead of all these…cats.”

He wondered briefly if she realized he knew her date was wearing one of those cats.

“Are you fond of birds, then?”  Without intending to, Damian’s free hand rose to finger one of the feathers adorning her mask and was pleased to find they were fake after all.  Just dyed to look like the real thing.

“Are you?”  She threw back, taking another sip of her wine as her eyes drifted over his own mask.

“I am.  Though, I am fond of most animals.”

“I am, too.  That’s why I agreed to come tonight.  I usually skip these events, but when my father mentioned the theme and the charity, I couldn’t say no.”  Father.  He couldn’t tell if her fear was more or less concerning now that he had that information.

“That is a feeling I can certainly relate to.  My own father never allows me to say no, unfortunately,” he chuckled, moving closer to her as a few other people made their way up to the bar to get drinks.  She glanced over his shoulder and took in the people starting to crowd around and motioned for him to follow her further into the crowd. Though he did notice that it was also further away from the man he now assumed was her father.

He slipped his free hand into his pocket and walked beside her, glancing around at the people they passed. He gave an air of relaxed, but his inner Robin never really relaxed.  Especially not when he couldn’t see the faces of potential threats.

“Perhaps I’ve been missing out by turning all the previous events down,” the sweet voice filtered in again through the conversations of people around them.  He turned to look at her again and smiled.

“Perhaps that can change for the future?”

“There you are!”  Dick’s voice pulled him out of the bubble that had seemed to engulf him and the mystery woman, causing him to frown when his brother’s hand took hold of his arm.  “Oh, sorry,” he watched Dick send an apologetic look to the woman before turning to look at Damian.  “B wanted to be sure you were ready for the speeches.  He asked me to find you.”

“Guys, we might have a problem.”  Tim’s voice crackling to life in their ears made Damian frown even more.

“It was nice talking to you. Maybe we can catch each other later?” Damian looked at the woman who he wanted more than anything to just continue to speak with, but knew he had to step away from.

“Yes, I’d very much like that,” Damian offered with a smile before Dick started dragging him away.

“Who was that?”  And Damian realized he had never gotten around to asking her for her name.  But Dick didn’t give him a chance to respond as he was asking Tim what the problem was.

“Jay said he recognized a couple guys in the crowd as henchmen for a new crime lord that’s been making the rounds in the underground.  Looks like he’s in a lion mask but I’m running the scans to be sure.”  Damian felt his blood freeze in his veins as he glanced back to where he had left the woman, not surprised to find her no longer there.

Stepping back into the main room, Damian’s eyes went to the space where the man in question had been but found the space filled with a group of elderly men and women that had definitely not been there before.

“Take care of whatever this is.”  Damian looked over at his father as he appeared out of seemingly thin air.  His tone spoke volumes, but anyone outside of their family would look at him and think he was as carefree as always.  The perpetual playboy.  “Damian you stay.  Dick, Jason is already heading to Tim.  Just handle whatever it is.”  His brother gave him a nod and squeezed Damian’s arm in silent apology for not being able to stay for the speech he had worked hard on.

It was understandable, though.  Damian was expected and Dick was not.

Once the speeches had commenced and Damian noticed that the man in question, the men who had surrounded him, and the mysterious woman were no where in the room, he finally made his way down to the Cave to see what was going on.  

The looks on his three brothers’ faces told him all he needed to know.  Either he had been duped by the woman or she had no idea what her father was up to.

“Who was the girl you were talking to Dami?  Did she give you a name?”  He shook his head and glanced at the security footage Tim had pulled up on the screens.

“No, we never exchanged names.  The only thing we really spoke about was…”  He frowned when he realized how incriminating the conversation seemed now.  

“About what?”

“Birds.”  He looked at Dick and his brother returned his frown. “But something seemed off in regard to the man she said was her father.”

“What seemed off about it? What exactly did she say?”  Jason was leaning against one of the tables they used for examining evidence, his bowtie hanging loose and the top button of his shirt undone.  His jacket was hanging over one of the chairs in the room.

“She only said she was there with her father.  But she seemed scared.  And she said she usually told him no when he asked her to come to events.  But she came tonight because she had liked the theme and charity,” he relayed.

“Makes sense,” Tim sounded, the clicks of the keyboard he was currently typing on a soft background noise.  “Y/N YL/N, a 20-year-old who is currently attending university here.  Her declared major is zoology with a minor in marine biology.  Her record is completely clean, and it looks like she only came to live with her father when she was 18 and accepted into the university.”  Damian looked up at the screen and saw the college id that held the smile he had seen just an hour earlier, but now he knew her face without the mask.

“So, it’s probably safe to say it’s coincidental?”  Dick. The ever optimistic.  

“Maybe?  Or very elaborate.”

“Who exactly is her father?” Damian asked, moving to stand by Tim as he continued to filter through information about Y/N.

“A low level crime lord who has been operating in the underground since Hood dropped his hold over them.”  The man in question’s face came up along with his rap sheet, which was worrisome to say the least.  “Looks like he started at the bottom and has recently been surging up the ranks.”

Sighing, Damian looked away from the screen to look at Dick and Jason who seemed to be having some sort of silent conversation.  He wasn’t daft enough to not realize it was about him and whether or not he should be involved in this.

“What?”  He demanded, tired of the silence between them.

“I’m going to go out and see if any of my contacts can tell us what the endgame was here,” Jason said by way of explanation, pushing off the table and untucking his dress shirt so he could go switch into his gear.

“No,” Dick’s voice sounded when Damian opened his mouth to offer to go with him.  Glaring at his older brother, Damian remained silent despite having some loud protests to that tone and context.  But Dick was the one he respected the most.  More than his other brothers and, much to their father’s dismay, more than Bruce.  Alfred was perhaps the only person who he would listen to over Dick but that was 50/50 and dependent on the subject matter.

“We don’t know if you were a target tonight or if it really was just random chance.  She didn’t approach you and you didn’t really talk about much,” Dick offered.  “Stay here with Tim and see what you can dig up.  Or go back upstairs and tend to the remainder of the guests since it’s your party. But stay here.”

He could feel the muscles in his jaw tick at the order, but instead of fighting he nodded.  He knew Dick made a good point and he didn’t really want to fight.

“And you?”

“I’ll go with Jay.” At least Hood wouldn’t be going in alone, wherever it was he was going.

“Don’t worry Demon, we’ll sort it out.  Just stay on the open comms and you’ll hear it,” Jason gave his shoulder a squeeze as he walked past to get into his gear.  Dick watched him for another moment before turning to follow him and get changed into his own suit.

Knowing he had no other choice, Damian turned back to Tim’s work and looked at the smiling face that had so innocently caught his eye earlier in the evening.  He just couldn’t reconcile her smile and soft words with the hard-lined face of her father and his rap sheet.  It didn’t add up and he didn’t want to admit that he could have been played so easily.

[crackspines]

Not a Good Fit

Summary: A couple months after Bruce adopts Jason, the boy has his first class trip to Wayne Enterprises, the last place Jason wants to go. The new Robin is convinced that while Batman may need him, Bruce Wayne needs the embarrassment of a street-rat son like he needs a hole in the head. To Jason's horror, Bruce shows up for the tour.

Jason Todd, twelve-year-old street rat, robin, and Gotham Academy student, kicked at the ground with each step towards the sleek Charter Bus, scuffing the Wayne’s expensive shoes against uncracked cement. He knew he should probably be a little nicer to the shoes Alfred bought him; they probably cost more than rent at his old apartment. But he wasn’t feeling too charitable towards the shoes that didn’t feel like his or Alfred at the moment.

“Can’t I skip today?” Jason had asked this morning, a hint of whine entering his voice. “Just this once. I could help you with the roses.”

Jason didn’t give a shit about the roses. They were a snobby, rich person flower.

“The roses will still be here when you get back from your quality education, Master Jason,” the older man had said, shrewd eyes boring into the newest addition to the manor. “You wouldn’t want to miss your class school trip.”

Once on the lavish bus, Jason raced to the back where there was one single-seat instead of the duos throughout the rest of the vehicle. He sunk into the buttery leather, pulling a library book from his bag immediately. He didn’t want any of these rich brats to get the idea that he wanted to talk to him.

He shouldn’t have worried. Just like every day since he joined the school last month, the Gotham Academy kids were more interested in talking about him than talking to him. A couple of girls a couple rows ahead of him glanced his way and then turned back to each other in a fit of giggles. He felt like he should be charging admission to see the poor kid in captivity.

“Okay, class,” Mrs. Epstein said from the front of the bus over the chattering students. “We’ll be pulling up to the front of Wayne Enterprises in twenty minutes. I’ll need everyone to get off the bus quickly and line up in single file. Let’s not block traffic.”

Twenty minutes flew by, and Jason spent the entire time reading the same paragraph over and over again. By the time the bus stopped, he still didn’t know what sentences were trying to say.

As his classmates flowed off the bus, staring up at the sleek, sky-high expanse of WE, Jason’s heart-rate sped up. His palms were damp, and he rubbed them furiously against his ironed khaki pants.

This was ridiculous. He jumped off building routinely, tangled with the worst Gotham had to offer. A trip to WE with his class shouldn’t even be a blip on his radar.

Besides, the likelihood of running into Bruce was slim to none. His office wasn’t anywhere near Research & Development.

The WE tour guide didn’t give Bruce Wayne’s newest charity cases a second glance, and Jason wished he could say the same of his classmates. The deeper they got into the building, the more classmates he caught stealing glances at him, mouths turned up at the sides.

Digging his hands deeper into his pockets, Jason tried to appear very interested in the shoes he hated. Despite his training as Robin, he couldn’t manage to keep a slight flush out of his cheek, which just confirmed what all the kids were thinking: he didn’t belong here.

The class walked into the R&D lab, suitably impressed by the sprawling space and all the futuristic tech littering the room. The ceilings went up at least thirty feet, though Jason, still staring down, couldn’t appreciate that.

“Hello,” a terrifyingly familiar voice said. “You must be Mrs. Epstein.”

Jason stiffened so quickly, he felt a twinge in his ribs from where Killer Croc had thrown him against a brick wall last week. This wasn’t happening. He would’ve fought Alfred tooth and nail if he thought there was even the smallest chance Bruce would show up.

What the hell was he doing here?

Suddenly, staring at his shoes wasn’t just to avoid his classmates; it was survival. If he looked up, he’d have to see the expression on Bruce’s face, and he really couldn’t bear it.

There was a reason in the two months since Bruce had adopted him, he hadn’t taken Jason to WE or showed up at Gotham Academy. Batman might need a Robin with the Dick Wonder gone, but Bruce Wayne didn’t need some kid from Crime Alley bringing down stock values.

Dick fit in Bruce’s life; Jason didn’t fit anywhere anymore.

“--know you were going to make an appearance, Mr. Wayne,” Mrs. Epstein said, delighted.

Bruce, clad in a multi-thousand dollar suit, walked over to Jason’s side, ruffling his hair before throwing a large, comforting arm around the boy. Jason had to look up then, searching Bruce’s face while he answered the teacher.

“It’s been a busy couple of months, Karen,” Bruce said easily. “This is actually Jason’s first trip to WE. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He turned to look at Jason then, smiling broadly and not moving his arm, even under the scrutiny of Jason’s high-society classmates. As hard as Jason looked, pulling on all of his Robin training, he couldn’t find any embarrassment, anger, or regret in Bruce’s face.

“How about a VIP tour, kids?” Bruce asked, nodding over to one of WE’s new projects: stealth flying technology that would make everything else on the market obsolete.

The students, despite themselves, moved over to the futuristic drone with unconcealed interest. Bruce, however, brought their attention back to him with his next words.

“Jason knows just as much about this project as I do.” Turning to his newly adopted son, he said, “Why don’t you tell your classmates about what we’re working on here?”

Everyone’s attention turned to the boy, and a sweat broke out on the back of his neck. Unlike before, the gazes weren’t smug or malicious, though quite a few of them were shocked by this turn of events.

Taking a deep breath, Jason started to talk about stealth technology. He was a little awkward at first, halting and tripping over his words. But once he got into it, he realized Bruce was right. He did know a lot about this project and a few more at R&D.

He took his classmates around, introducing the ones he was familiar with. At the end of the tour, he finally looked up at Bruce, who hadn’t left his side the whole time. The older man was practically beaming, and he squeezed Jason’s shoulder. The move left the boy with a funny, warm sensation he couldn’t remember if he’d ever felt before.

After signing him out with Mrs. Epstein, Bruce turned to his son while the other kids piled on the bus. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up for your field trip.”

Jason scuffed his shoes lightly against the ground, the movement no longer angry and anxious. “It’s fine.”

“Why don’t we stop at that Chinese place you showed me on the way home?” Bruce said as they headed towards the parking complex. “It’s growing on me.”

“I can’t believe you’d never had it before,” the boy said. “Best in Gotham.”

“I guess it’s a good thing my kid is such a takeout connoisseur,” Bruce said with a laugh.

Jason had to smile at that, the warm feeling from earlier taking over his whole body.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Jason felt like maybe he could belong in Bruce’s life. Maybe it’d just take a little more time for the fit to feel right.

Like this? Read more of my stuff here.

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [13/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila were in a brief relationship.

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

“Have you seen this?!” Damian explodes, stalking into Tim’s office with all the fury of a pit-bull wearing a thousand-dollar suit. His somewhat bruised face is red with fury as he slams of a piece of paper down on Tim’s desk.

“Did we have an appointment?” Tim asks lightly. “Because otherwise, I need to call an exorcist about a demon problem.”

“Stow your inappropriate humor, Drake, I just received a memo from our lawyers—”

“You received a memo? You don’t even work here officially. You were probably just sitting in B’s office pretending to do your homework and then snooped in his inbox when his back was turned.”

“A technicality that holds no bearing on this,” the boy sniffs, waving the paper again. “The patent office is denying Wayne Enterprises claim for the personal water filtration device we filed for on Tuesday.”

“What?” Tim demands, snatching the paper and glaring down at it; that was one of the projects he’s been overseeing the past few months. “On what grounds?”

“LexCorp apparently filed for a similar product 24 hours before we did.”

“Bullshit,” Tim snaps. “As of last month, they weren’t even out of the developmental stage on that.”

He knows because he’d been to the factory chasing down a lead on a completely unrelated case as Red Robin and happened to catch sight of their prototype. It was nowhere near the quality that Luke Fox already perfected in the Wayne tech division.

“Apparently someone’s been helping them out.”

“Any idea who?”

“I can ferret out the traitor soon enough, and make them see the error of their ways,” Damian says, smiling unpleasantly.

Which could mean anything from destroying their legal existence, or a personal beat-down by Robin depending on his mood.

“No,” he says. “We’ll figure out who did it, and why. Then we take it to Lucius.”

“I would imagine the motive for the deceit is rather self-evident.”

“It isn’t always. Motive colors everything. For all we know, it could be a blackmail situation. I wouldn’t put anything past LexCorp, or their R&D team.”

“And the issue of the patent itself?” Damian demands, folding his arms. “This company has invested significant capital in developing the product; if LexCorp retains the patent, our profit margins this quarter will tank.”

Tim smiles coolly. “They’ve invested a lot more than we did. Especially if they’re paying off a corporate spy. I’ll talk to Luke and his dad, but I think if we circulate the story we’re placing the design schematics online to ensure anyone in need can construct their own unofficial versions of it—for humanitarian and innovative reasons of course—LexCorp will take the worse hit and with the good press WE gets, we can recoup.”

“You don’t actually intend to follow through with that, do you?” Damian asks, nose wrinkled in distaste. “That reeks of compromise.”

“Of course we’ll follow through. With the prototype designs, not the final versions. Profit was never the main goal of that project anyhow, so we can afford a delay on returns. With the sudden influx of bootlegged versions of the technology, owning the patent will no longer be the challenge, it will be providing the most efficient and functional model. Which ours is, given the time we spent developing it.”

“So even if LexCorp releases their version, it will continue to underperform next to ours,” Damian realizes. He thinks about it for a moment and then nods. “That’s a semi-acceptable solution. Not enough justification for you to still be here, though.”

A brief, shining moment of an almost-compliment…and we’re back to that again.

“You know, if you’re so concerned that the team in San Francisco is bereft of management, you could always fly down yourself.”

“This is my city. I won’t leave it.” Which is the same argument he used last night; odd, considering Damian likes to be varied in his attacks on Tim. “Besides, we have all seen the results of the alternative.”

Meaning their short-lived team-up where everyone compared them to each other and Damian split.

Tim raises an eyebrow at that.

It almost sounds like he’s…upset about that. Funny, he’s never indicated he minded leaving the Titans when I came back. And half the time he’s off doing whatever it is he does with John.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t been such a jerk to them, they wouldn’t have been so eager to see the back of you,” he points out, even as he immediately knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Damian’s expression, on the cusp of showing vulnerability, shuts down completely.

“I have learned it is futile to argue with stupidity, and that includes a preference for subpar leadership. Which you should be getting back to and cease wasting company time on whatever it is you don’t actually contribute here.”

Tim rolls his eyes, counts to ten in his head, and replies, “I have a case here, you know. I’m not leaving until that’s done. And maybe if you stopped being such an ass about it and just came out and asked, I’d be happy to call the team and suggest giving you another chance.”

“I don’t require your pity!”

“That’s not what—” Tim groans and pinches the bridge of his nose; why does every conversation with Damian that doesn’t include weapons, always go pear-shaped? “Are you and B fighting again? Is that what this is?”

“Of course not!”

Twin spots of red indicate that’s exactly what it is, and Tim groans internally.

Exactly when did I take over from Dick as chief soother of family problems?

Probably shortly after Dick “died” and went undercover with Spyral. Which he thinks is patently unfair, considering Cass is technically second-oldest, and Jason gives off more of that brother-vibe despite his abrasiveness.

Not that that’s particularly helpful now; he’s got his own problems to deal with.

And of anyone in the family, Tim’s the only one Damian interacts with almost as much as Dick, so maybe it’s not surprising.

Before he can ruminate any more on that, his phone buzzes; it’s from an unknown number, but Tim can guess who it’s coming from based on the first words in the text message.

- Hospital called. Tests positive…

There’s more to it, but Damian’s trying to read it upside down, so Tim snatches it up and reaches for his briefcase.

Apparently, the hospital put a rush on the paternity test results after all. Jason is probably freaking out right now.

 “We can continue this whole you-asking-for-help-but-not-really-thing tomorrow.”

“I’m not—that isn’t—you presume—” the kid splutters as Tim closes his laptop, before recovering and demanding, “Where are you going?”

“Picking up Ives at St. Camillus,” he lies with ease and mentally apologizes to his absent friend for using him as a cover. “He’s had a hard go of it, so we’re doing pizza and a Mission Impossible marathon.” He pretends to pause. “You’re welcome to come, but I’m telling you now we’re not ordering vegetarian or vegan pizza for you. It’s going to be a no vegetable zone.”

In the past few years he’s discovered the fastest way to get Damian to leave him alone is to welcome him to spend time with him. The kid is so set in his ways of insisting he loathes Tim that he’ll go out of his way to refuse such an invitation on principle, even in cases where Tim suspects he wouldn’t mind sticking around.

Tim thinks he has another year or two of that strategy working before Damian finally figures it out. Which could potentially be fun—he wonders what it would be like to have a younger brother that isn’t constantly trying to cut the knees out from under him—but for now, he really wants to avoid it.

Luckily, in this Damian remains predictable.

“I’d rather not stunt my growth like you,” the boy sneers.

Tim pretends that dig doesn’t irritate him, the way it has been since he noticed Damian catching up to him in height. The kid is smug about it and likes to rub it in. Tim, however, has learned the best way to circumvent that is to make a joke of it.

“I thought everyone assumed it was the energy drinks,” he grins.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out on your territory since you’ve decided to engage in an evening of sloth instead of important work,” Damian grumbles and stalks out of his office.

“So that’s a ‘no’ to pizza night?” Tim calls after him, fully aware of the answer.

“You’re a disgrace, Drake.”

“Make good choices!”

He allows himself a moment to bask in the satisfaction of ticking off the younger boy, before growing solemn again. He unlocks his phone to scan the whole message.

- Hospital called. Tests positive. Pickup tonight. Legal stuff figured out?

Tim shakes his head; Jason might as well be organizing a stakeout for all the details he’s given. It’s a typical Bruce-ism they’ve all adopted for when they are too overwhelmed to deal with something. He wonders if Jason’s even aware he’s doing it.

He quickly types out a reply—I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together. I have papers you need—and heads for the company garage.

He remembers the process from when Steph had her baby and signed the adoption papers, and so has ensured the documents the hospital will require are on-hand. Social security and medical history forms, birth certificates, driver’s license—a surface survey of identification to prove that Jason Ardila exists.

All Jason needs to do is memorize them on the drive over in case anyone decides to ask questions. Which they won’t, since the fact of Jason being the baby’s biological parent cuts down on a lot of paperwork for them, and Tim knows from personal experience that when it’s possible to avoid paperwork, most organizations do.

Inching back home through Gotham’s usual rush hour madness, Tim wonders if Jason will still be there when he gets to the apartment or if this is the point where he gives up and makes a run for it.

Halfway to the Nest, he gets another text from Jason, this one informing him he’s not at Tim’s place. A follow-up message lists an address Tim thinks he might have read recently, and it’s only when he gets home that he recognizes it from the file he read on Isabel.

Guess he decided to go out today after all.

He quickly changes from his business suit to something casual and unassuming, not wanting to draw attention if he goes into the hospital with Jason, and then hunts up the car seat from the piles of baby things Tam bought. Once that’s carefully installed into one of his less flashy cars, he heads out to the location Jason gave him.

He pulls up in front of a well-maintained condominium, and texts Jason about his arrival; though he knows he’s there, he’s still somewhat surprised when the older man materializes from behind the building, his face ashen and entire body pulled tight and tense.

As Jason gets into the car, Tim knows better than to ask him what’s wrong or if he’s alright.

Instead, he asks, “Have you eaten?”

Jason blinks at him like he’s speaking a foreign language, and then processes. “Not yet.”

Tim’s eyebrows go up at that because usually, it’s him that has to be reminded of eating; Jason’s one of those people that has to eat every three hours, or they become ornery.

He spares a moment to wonder where he picked up that bit of knowledge, and then suggests, “We can stop for food first if you want.” There’s a place on the Upper Eastside where Red Hood has been known to frequent. “We can take as long as you want.” 

“If I eat anything right now, I’m going to throw up,” Jason informs him. “I want to just get this over with.”

“Right.” He can understand that. “Okay, on that note—” Tim strains behind the seat, finagling the folder he stuck there with only the slightest pulled muscle, “—here.”

He hands Jason the folder of documents.

“These are all the official stuff they might ask you for, though I doubt we’ll need all of them today,” he explains. “I also included a list of social media sites you’re now registered on and tweaked your membership dates to exist retroactively, though that’s more for you and not the hospital.”

Jason makes a face. “You gave me a Facebook account.”

“Having one is almost more proof of your existence than having a passport these days,” Tim replies. “Which you still need to get, but we can hold off on that for a little longer. Everything here is just to throw off anyone from social services or the government if they decide to investigate you while we’re coming up with the long-term plan. And if we need an ironclad background, we can bring Oracle in on this.”

Jason’s expression becomes darker.

“Obviously I know you want that to be a last resort,” Tim says quickly. “But just keep in mind it’s an option. And O’s pretty good at keeping secrets from the rest of the family too, you know.”

The older man flips through the documents again and shakes his head. “This is pretty comprehensive considering the kid’s not hanging around here for long.”

“Trust me, if you want to get her out of the hospital, it’s going to have to be that comprehensive.”

It looks like Jason has a comment for that, probably about how he doesn’t want to take her from the hospital, but he visibly buries it and focusses on getting familiar with his new background.

The rest of the drive is silent and tense, and not for the first time Tim questions the wisdom in getting involved at all. Out of everyone in the family to help Jason through a tough emotional spot, Tim always considers himself the last resort; even Damian has more in common with Jason. On the other hand, with this particular scenario, maybe there is no right person to help.

Luck of the draw, I guess…

The tension in the car ratchets up tenfold as they pull into the hospital parking lot. Tim makes a judgment call to not simply drop Jason off on his own this time and even offers to carry the baby-carrier with him into the building, though Jason declines.

Probably needs something to do with his hands.

Tim feels a modicum of relief at that; the contraption is bulky and seems too big for the baby he held in his arms yesterday. Knowing him, he’d probably drop it and send Jason into a panic attack…

They head to the neonatal section in silence, and when they get there Tim’s the one who speaks to the receptionist. She hands him a clipboard with a bunch of release forms and waivers, then assures him the doctor will be with them shortly, before pointing them toward the waiting area.

Once seated, Tim divides up the forms and offers Jason a spare pen from his jacket pocket.

“This stuff’s all insurance and stuff,” he tells him. “I can fill them out for you.”

“I said I was going to handle it.”

“Did I say I was putting my information down on it?”

Jason scowls. “I hope you know how creepy it is you know so much about me.”

“Creepy, but useful,” Tim retorts and shoves a different form at Jason. “This is all family and medical stuff. That’s on you.”

“How generous,” Jason deadpans, though he takes the paper and reads through it.

Despite having the majority of the forms, Tim finishes long before Jason does. When he glances over to see what’s keeping him, he realizes that while everything else is filled out, he seems stuck on the name part of the questionnaire.

“You almost done?” he prompts, instead of asking if he’s alright.

Jason visibly shakes himself, jots something down on the paper, and practically shoves it back into Tim’s hands. “Yeah. All good.”

Tim glances at the form, noting that in a fit of inspiration, Jason has added Isabel as the child’s middle name.

As if expecting Tim to comment, he mutters, “Wherever she ends up, she should at least have a part of her mom.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He takes the documents back to the receptionist to be copied and filed, before returning to sit with Jason.

“It’s a nice name,” he offers after a while. “Luisa Isabel.” He considers. “We can call her Isa. It works for both.”

“Shit. Jason blinks. “I didn’t think about that. Maybe it’s not too late to change it.”

“I wasn’t making fun, you know. It’s a decent nickname.”

Jason shoots him a sharp look. “What did I say about getting attached?”

“Why do you even care? Whoever ends up taking her might change it anyway.”

That comment makes Jason frown, as if he didn’t consider it, but if he has anything to reply, it’s cut off when a nurse appears and calls out Jason’s name.

“Right this way,” she beams at them, leading them to the hallway outside of an observation room; she promises to return in a moment.

Jason and Tim look inside, where there are rows of infants in clear cradles. The nurse stops in front of one of them—labeled Baby Ardila—and picks up the pink swaddled infant.

“Mr. Ardila,” a familiar voice interrupts, and they glance up as Dr. Kerry makes an appearance. He hesitates upon meeting Tim’s gaze, clearly wanting to keep to the privacy he requested yesterday. “Mr…”

“Draper,” Tim supplies smoothly, glad for the attempt.

“Right.” The man shakes his head and returns his attention to Jason. “As you’re aware, we did receive the tests back confirming the paternity. All that’s left is to release her into your custody, though I do have a few last-minute matters to discuss.”

“Sure,” Jason says tightly.

 “Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong. She’s in excellent health,” the doctor assures them, as Jason fiddles with the baby carrier. He seems to be unsure if he should carry it by the handle or in his massive arms.

It would be kind of funny if he wasn’t so terrified.

“Her Apgar scores are perfect, she’s already had her Vitamin K injection and shots against Hepatitis B—all of which was arranged and signed off on before the birth,” he adds quickly, wary like he’s expecting them to rage at him for vaccinating the child.

“Good,” Jason says, probably because it’s one less thing to worry about.

Kerry appears relieved, and continues, “She’ll have a series of injections and boosters she’ll be needing, but her pediatrician will give you all of that information when you bring her for her check-up a week from now—" Kerry cuts himself off as if remembering the situation. “I can give you several referrals if you haven’t selected one yet.”

“Thank you, but that’s unnecessary,” Tim says. “We have a family physician.”

Kerry glances at Jason, as if unsure if he should be deferring that decision to Tim considering the kid’s paternity, but Jason nods. “I think that’s probably the only thing we for-sure have covered.”

Not entirely sure Leslie’s area is babies, but she’s still the only doctor worth trusting in this city. Jason knows it too.

“Very well,” the man says with a hint of doubt in his voice. He appears to debate with himself about something for a moment and then squares his shoulders. “We do have a social worker on-site if you change your mind about adoption.”

“No,” Jason says.

Kerry sighs. “Mr. Ardila, if you’ll pardon my input—you’re young. And given the circumstances, this is quite a shock. It’s admirable you want to do the right thing and step up to your responsibilities, but it would be remiss of me not to remind you to do what’s best for the child and yourself as well. If at any time you think you can’t do this, you have options. It’s better to figure out what you want to do now while she’s so young than once she’s had time to bond with you.”

Jason looks torn by either prospect, so Tim cuts in with a polite, “Thank you, doctor. We’re aware of our options. As you said, this has been quite a shock, and we have a lot do discuss. However, we would rather the baby not be left indefinitely in the hospital while we do that. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” Kerry clears his throat, uncomfortable. “The attending nurse has a few papers to give you, commonly asked questions and the like. Just an overview of care for the next week or so, but if there’s any concern—anything at all—I’ve included my emergency phone number and email.”

“Thank you.”

He hesitates a further second, before excusing himself. There’s hardly any time to process that, before the nurse has returned, Luisa in her arms.

“Here she is,” she murmurs softly, almost a coo as she presents the baby to them.

When Jason hesitates a half-second too long, Tim immediately reaches out to pick up the swaddled infant. He may have done a little bit of research and YouTubing earlier to ensure a little more confidence when holding her.

Today, Luisa’s eyes are actually open—barely—though unfocussed. She has no reaction for Tim other than a slight scrunching of her nose and futile wriggle against the blankets keeping her wrapped like a baby burrito. Her skin’s blotchy and a bit greasy looking, and she still resembles a potato, though maybe a bit less wrinkled today.

Jason puts the carrier down, and while he appears intent on whatever the nurse is telling him—either congratulations or the infant care Kerry promised—Tim busies himself with figuring out how to put the infant in the carrier.

Does she really need that many straps and buckles to keep her in? It’s not like she’ll even have the coordination to escape for another two years…

Eventually, he manages it, however, and picks up the carrier by the handle; he sees now why Jason felt so awkward with it before, it doesn’t exactly feel convenient.

“…and that’s it,” the nurse is saying, while Jason nods.

I highly doubt that’s it.

He doesn’t say that out loud, though, if only for Jason’s sake; instead, he smiles and says, “Thanks for everything.”

“You take care now,” she admonishes. “The first week is hard on new parents.”

“No kidding,” Jason replies with a laugh that anyone else might call nervous, but which Tim recognizes as bordering hysteria.

Time to leave. “I’ve got no doubt we’ll manage. We’ve been in tougher situations.”

That seems to penetrate some of the panic the other man is working himself into. He blinks as if suddenly remembering who he is and how much they’ve survived.

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little shaky but surer. “We have.” He takes a deep breath, offers an actual attempt at a charming smile at the nurse, before turning to Tim. “We should get going.”

“We should.”

He still makes no move to take the carrier, but Tim doesn’t comment on it; he’s sure in the next days and weeks Jason will be easier around the baby. But right now, he’s not able to do it, and that’s the whole point to Tim being there.

They turn to leave, baby safely in her carrier between them; when the nurse calls out a parting, “Congratulations!”, Tim pretends he doesn’t notice Jason flinch.

⁂⁂⁂

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Next Chapter

[msephy]

Upbringing chap 8/?

And here is chapter 8 :)

There should be 13 or 14 chapters in total.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Cross-posted to AO3

Earth 53 - Jason Todd

Speeding through Gotham alongside Bruce was all kinds of wrong. First of all because if felt right. Of course. Damnit, and damn him, and damn the original him, and… Fuck.

Now wasn’t the time to think about how fucked up Jason’s life was. Now was the time to find a lost Robin. Or Damian. Or whatever name he used.

“Nothing on the North side, either,” Dick (Robin) (this was going to be confusing) said in his ear.

He’d received his own earpiece right after jumping into his gear, Dick slipping it to him as he accompanied them to the Batmobile, explaining he’d use the cameras to help them out.

His gear had been washed. Not the armor, but the clothes. Nobody had touched the weapons. His guns were still there.

This whole thing was confusing.

“Thank you, Robin,” Bruce answered, his voice tight, without even slowing down. Of course he wouldn’t.

“What his codename?” Jason asked, mostly to distract himself from the worry churning at his belly. Probably for nothing, too. Damian was though, his own remarks notwithstanding.

“Who? Robin?”

“Obviously not, I heard that one. I meant the kid. Younger kid. Whatever.”

“Ah. Shadow.”

“Of fucking course,” Jason grumbled. “At least it’s not a bird.”

“I tried to make him chose Crow, but it’s already taken,” Dick babbled in his ear, his good humor hiding badly is own worry. “Or Blackbird. Or Nightbird.” Jason snorted. “Or Starling. He threw a fit at that one. Or…”

The enumeration stopped abruptly. Jason and Bruce froze in a same movement. “Robin?” Bruce called, ordered. Jason felt his spine straightened.

“Not Damian,” Dick said. “I mean Shadow. But I spotted something.”

“Elaborate.”

“Please,” Jason mocked. Bruce glared at him.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Dick was saying. “But I think it was Talia.”

Jason swore. Then swore again when he saw Bruce relax. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s bad news.”

“She wouldn’t hurt Shadow,” Bruce said with the assurance of the unaware.

“Are you fucking kidding me? She’ll obey Ra���s, whatever the cost.” Jason argued. Then he frowned. “What she can do is find a loophole and make sure things go the way she wants them to anyway. She’ll obey the letter of his words, not the meaning.”

“You think she showed herself on purpose.”

“I think that no camera would have caught her if she hadn’t meant it to.”

“But what could Ra’s possibly want from Damian?” Bruce exclaimed. He’d never sounded so much younger than his counterpart.

Jason shrugged. “The same he’s wanted from the start. I mean. Why else would he have allowed Talia to keep him? If he didn’t order her to have him to start with.”

Bruce winced visibly despite the cowl. Looked like it was a sore point.

“Anyway, we’d better find out if Ra’s is around before he possesses Damian or something.”

“Ra’s wouldn’t hurt Shadow,” Bruce said pointedly.

Jason stared. But he seemed to mean it. “Are you a moron?” Jason asked, unbelieving. “Ra’s is a criminal. Him not behaving as destructively as the Joker doesn’t give him a pass. You of all people should know that!”

And Jason couldn’t believe he was the one who had to say it. God knew how often he’d secretly hoped Bruce would give him a pass. But no, no, that was reserved for beautiful, dangerous women.

Jason inspired, trying to calm down. “Besides,” he managed. “I wasn’t pulling that out of my ass, that’s what Ra’s actually tried to pull off, in our world. I don’t have the details, only as much as Drake told me.”

“More birds?” Dick whispered, Jason assumed, in his ear only, because Bruce didn’t snap back at him. It really wasn’t a good time. Yet the joke loosened something inside Jason; something bad, that had been growing since the morning and which retreated suddenly in the depths of his feelings.

Jason relaxed. Bruce, on the other hand, was so wired you could have broken stone on him.

“Where did you see her?” he finally asked Dick.

“The Bowery, next to the flower shop.”

Bruce fired his line and Jason followed. It was too early for the Demon Head to want Damian’s body. No?

Please let it be too early.

###

Earth 1 – Jason Wayne

Jason got out of the shower feeling invigorated. They hadn’t made a full patrol, just half, allegedly to discharge Bruce a bit. The only thing Jason didn’t know was if Dick had taken the patrol as excuse to observe him, or if he’d observed him as excuse to actually discharge Bruce a bit.

Either way, they’d had fun without tiring themselves so much.

Jason sat down at the computer and started updating the files, checking on the latest updates from GCPD and some information sent by Oracle.

“Who is this Oracle? They’re amazing,” Jason said absentmindedly when he heard Dick get out of his own shower.

“Bruce allows you to use the batcomputer? I wouldn’t have expected him to.”

“I didn’t really give him the choice. Checking what I do will take him less time than doing it himself. I log all the details, to make sure of it.”

Dick snorted, sitting on the table. Jason raised his eyebrows. Dick made a face. “You’re not Alfred.”

“He’s old and cleaning after you boys all the time.”

“I’m not getting anything dirty! Also, you are barely older than me.”

“Still older.”

“Jackass.”

“Love you too.” Jason blinked. “I mean,” he laughed. “We barely know each other. But clearly, we both have siblings.”

“Clearly,” Dick echoed. Then he sighed.

“He’ll be back,” Jason assured him. “I don’t intend to stay here and I’m pretty sure your Bruce wouldn’t leave one of his sons in another world, even the prodigal one.”

“How is your world? Is he going to be alright?”

Jason shrugged. “It’s pretty much similar to this one. Very nice way to guilt me into giving you intel, by the way.” Dick grinned. Jason smiled. “In any case,” he continued. “I think my Gotham is a bit better off than yours, but there are still dangerous people out there. Bruce – my brother I mean – won’t let your Jason get hurt, though.”

Dick darkened. It looked like his Bruce had let his Jason get hurt. It happened, in this kind of life. Jason would rather not know the details.

“So, Oracle?” Jason asked to distract him. “Who are they?”

“Oh.” Dick blinked. “It’s Barbara. She doesn’t help, in your world?”

“In my world, she’s busy studying law and determined to become a cop. Can’t say that Jim is delighted, but I think he’s secretly proud.”

“A cop? Babs?” Dick seemed to think about it, then shrugged. “I guess I always thought she had too much of a tendency to find trouble to follow that path.”

“Oh, she still does. She kicked Luthor in the balls once.”

“And she survived?” Dick marveled.

Jason grinned dreamily at the memory. “She was pretending to be drunk at the time. He had to let it slide.”

“Oh god, I wished I’d been there.”

“It was very satisfying,” Jason confirmed, smiling broadly. “Especially since, you know, we had an informal meeting right after. I plucked some of Lex’s feathers. He was very offended. And had a hard time sitting.”

“You do business with Luthor?”

Jason shrugged. “We’re mainly competitors but his R&D department does have some significant advancements that we can’t ignore. Mostly it’s not with LexCorp directly but one of his subsidiaries. He does own a lot of them. Isn’t it the same here?”

“I guess so. Clark is the one who handles him, mostly.”

“But in regard to WayneEnt?”

“You’ll have to ask Tim,” Dick shrugged. “He’s the brain of the operation. I merely show up on galas or support one specific project from time to time but handling the day to day of a business that huge? That’s not for me.”

“No, I guess it’s not,” Jason said, thinking about how the younger Dick from his world struggled to even learn to sit down for classes for more than an hour.

“You’re thinking of who to throw to the wolves in your own world?” Nightwing laughed.

“I doubt it will be you. Damian, maybe, if he settles when growing up.”

“Is Bruce the one with all the kids?”

“I didn’t think accepting Talia’s offer would be a good idea,” Jason smiled, before realizing it was a mistake. Nightwing’s head titled slightly. Ah, well. It didn’t really matter, if someone from another world knew about his bitterness.

“She seduced you both?”

“We seduced her back. We went to train to the League together, Bruce and I, or rather,” Jason laughed, “I refused to let Bruce leave by himself. To be honest, I loved it.”

“And Talia, too.”

“It doesn’t matter much. She wasn’t going to leave her life for either of us, and neither would we. It was a moot point.”

“Mhm. Sounds like I’m not the only one who should take more care of myself.”

Jason sighed. “I guess you aren’t.”

[bluboothalassophile]

Dude I be lost of what to read first in your Hopes For a Bastard Universe. To me it’s like trying to figure out what comic to read first in DC Comics. Anyway is there a particular order or do I just read whatever order I please?

Hello,

The Hopes for a Bastard Universe is expanding and growing. And as it grows I’ll attempt to keep an updated post for where everything is taking place and when. Here’s the chronological order of events for all the stories (This Does NOT List The One Shots And Spoilers On Tumblr!), here’s the list:

Rooftop Dances Trilogy - Jive (WIP): The boy is the key to the city as the Cat and Bat find themselves hopelessly entangled in a childhood enemy. Racing the clock to save a particular baby bird.

Main Characters: Bruce W. (25), Selina K. (25), Dick G. (10), Clark K. (22)

Pairings: Bruce/Talia (past), Bruce/Selina

Arrow Family - Oceans Away (WIP): Oliver came home and found himself on a mission to save his city and the little guy. He did not expect coming home to be the hard part of this. Or that his city would be facing a threat larger than he could handle alone.

Main Characters: Oliver Q (27), Felicity S. (26), J. Diggle, Roy Harper (17)

Pairings: Oliver Q./Felicity S.

Rooftop Dance Trilogy - Quickstep (TBA): The shadows were restless as a blast from Bruce’s past walked into town. Talia al Ghul has returned, and the threats that follow have targeted a particular Cat.

Main Characters: Bruce W. (31), Selina K. (31), Jason T. (11), Talia al Ghul

Pairings: Bruce W./Selina K., Bruce W./Talia al Ghul

Rooftop Dance Trilogy - Waltz (TBA) - The Cat runs from a crossed client and finds herself tripping over a new bird. Mystery drags her down as a bird drags her back to the Bat, and a murderer closes in on her new bird.

Main Character: Bruce W. (35), Selina K. (35), Timothy D. (11), Dick G. (20), Barbara G (22)

Pairings: Bruce W./Selina K., Dick G./Barbara G.

Rewrite the Stars - Make a Wish on a Shooting Star (WIP): Dick remembered when she crashed here, and how she had stood tall and regal in all her fiery glory. And he remembered thinking that she was everything he did not wish for. However, she was everything he needed to be whole again after all the loss.

Main Characters: Dick G. (21), Koriand’r, Barbara G. (23), Raven (15-16), Timothy D. (12), Wally W. (22), Roy H. (24), Garth (21)

Pairings: Dick G./Barbara G., Dick G./Koriand’r, Wally W./Jinx

Hopes for a Bastard Series - Give Me Back My Mind! (COMPLETE): There’s a reason people don’t go into Raven’s room, aside from it being her space. Red X was unaware of this when he was contracted to acquire a few magical items. Now Raven’s after him.

Main Characters: Raven (19), Jason T. (20), Damian W. (9-10), Dick G. (24), Tim D. (15), Bruce W. (40)

Pairings: Dick G./Koriand’r, Bruce W./Selina K.

Flash Family - Run of Your Life (WIP): It’s the first weekend she’s had off without Barry hovering over her, or her family watching her like a hawk. Now it’s just her, her cravings for Big Belly Burger, and her fourteen year old grandson; how awkward could that be? Apparently very awkward. Is that Amunet?

Main Characters: Iris W. (30), Bart A. (14), Barry A. (30), Wally W. (25)

Pairings: Barry A./Iris W.

Hopes for a Bastard Series - Rock Meet Bottom (COMPLETE): So he’s, maybe, kind of, slightly in over his head… But How the hell was he supposed to know they were sending Deadshot after him!? Also, why are all these Bats coming to his defense in his war? And what the hell was that?

Main Characters: Raven (19), Jason T. (21), Damian W. (10), Dick G. (24), Bruce W. (40), Jon K. (9-10)

Pairings: Bruce W./Selina K.

Flash Family - Chemistry (WIP): It’s the Winter Formal, he’s just taking a friend because he feels that Bart’s in need of feeling normal. It wasn’t like it was a date or anything, nothing could come of this.

Main Characters: Bart A. (14), Jaime R. (15)

Pairings: Bart A./Jaime R.

Hopes for a Bastard Series - Holiday Express Shipping (COMPLETE):There is but one sentiment which sums up the hell he’s found himself trapped in: It’s the Holidays, We’re All Miserable. He’s still trying to figure out how to escape, the Bats are doing the family thing, the Amazons are here, and so is the Queen of Hell, and, is that Roy Harper pulling up with a rusted out POS? What The Fuck Is Going On?

Main Characters: Raven (19), Jason T. (21), Bruce W. (40), Selina K. (40), Dick G. (24), Timothy D. (15), Damian W. (10), Roy Harper (26), Cass C. (20), Stephanie B. (16), Terry M. (1), Helena W. (0.1), Lian H. (0.3)

Pairings: Bruce W./Selina K., Dick G./Koriand’r

Arrow/Flash Family - Parent Trap (WIP): This is bad, so bad! Oh she’s so grounded! But she’s in more trouble if she’s never born. Troubles with time travel and parents who don’t like each other!

Main Characters: Wally W. (26), Artemis C. (23), Irey W. (7), Oliver Q. (37), Barry A. (31), Iris W. (31)

Pairings: Wally W./Artemis C., Oliver Q./Felicity S., Barry A./Iris W.

Hopes for a Bastard Series - I’ve Got the Umbrella (WIP): He knew it! There was NO way that this should have been this easy. And HOLY SHIT! That’s his head! That’s an axe! Time to call the little bird! They are in over their heads! There’s an Amazon, a clone, and is that… nope, uh-uh, no. Just no. He quits!

Main Characters: Raven (20), Jason T. (22), Roy H. (27), Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, Bizarro

Pairings: Bruce W./Selina K.

Batlings Universe/Hopes for a Bastard Series - Welcome to the Chaos (WIP): Interdimensional collisions of the multiverse happened when Ingram Alfred Wayne’s powers ignite, dragging him and his father into another dimension and tearing that dimension’s seal. The demons are now coming, and of course it’s the week before the Biggest Wedding Of The Century!

Main Batling Characters: Damian Wayne (29), Raven (30), Casimir Wayne (4), Raynor Wayne (2), Fawke Wayne (2), Ingram Wayne (0.8)

Batling Pairings: Damian W./Raven

Main Hopes for a Bastard Characters: Raven (20), Jason T. (22), Damian W. (11), Terry M. (2), Lian H. (1), Helena W. (1), Mar’i G. (1)

Rewrite the Stars/Hopes for a Bastard Series - Written in the Stars (TBA): It’s The Wedding Of The Century! Richard J. Grayson will finally be exchanging vows with the love of his life, Koriand’r of Tamaran and nothing is going to stop them! Except maybe the Prince of Tamaran?

Main Characters: Dick G. (26), Koriand’r, Karras, Bruce W. (42), Selina K. (42), Jason T. (22), Timothy D. (17), Duke T. (16), Damian W. (12), Terry M. (2), Helena W. (1), Mar’i G. (1), Raven (20), Donna T., Wally W. (27), Garth (26), Karen D., Roy H. (28)

Pairings: Dick G./Koriand’r, Bruce W./Selina K., Wally W./Artemis C., Garth/Dolphin

If you’re just interested in Jason’s story I recommend starting at Give Me Back My Mind! It’s a solid starting point even as I clean up it’s errors and mistakes for this timeline.

And seriously, if there’s other Super Families people wish to know about in this universe just ask. If anyone has any questions then don’t hesitate to ask.

[teen-titans-imagines]

The Batboys As Dads [Headcanons]

Since me and @loudmouthwally have been screaming about dad! Dick and dami and such, I decided to write headcanons after she suggested it to me. As always: reader insert 😎

Dick Grayson

He honestly wasn't sure on being a dad

But when he laid his eyes on you, his daughter/son, he was absolutely ready to fight everyone who had any second thoughts about you.

Dick Grayson was ready to lay down everything for you. Even leave the mantle of Nightwing to someone else, because jesus christ, you were so important to him. (And still are)

Dick Grayson is a playful man, and if you think he wouldn't hit himself on the head with a skillet to make you laugh, you are very, v e r y mistaken.

As you grow up, there is one thing you learn about Dick Grayson.

Dick is a dad joke within himself.

Dad jokes for d a y s.

There is no escaping them.

"I had a scarecrow friend try out for stand up comedy, but the audience thought he was too corny."

"I'm calling the police on you for harassment."

Despite Dick being a silly dad, he is also very protective.

No boys/girls until you are dead.

Actually, no wait, nope, not even in the afterlife.

He will stalk you while on your dates, being as obvious yet hard to spot as possible.

Dick is the waiter, the random guy you bump into on the street, the carnival's janitor.

He's fucking everywhere, man, don't even try to kiss your date because Daddy Dearest will know. In a heartbeat.

#GroundedForKissingMyBoyfriendAfterFindingOutMyDadWasSpyingOnUsAftetHeFELLFROMTHEDAMNTREESCREAMINGBLOODYMURDER #IWANNANEWDAD #JASONBEMYNEWDAD

Despite all the crap he puts you through, Dick loves you very much and just wants the best for you, and that includes a happy life and childhood. He knows that you can lose a lot in a blink of an eye, and he wants you to be happy.

Yet, while he holds a superhero job, it can be pretty straining on your relationship as father and daughter/son.

Just know Dick loves you very much, even if he is a pain in the ass crack.

Jason Todd

If there is one thing Jason Todd does not know how to do, it is Parenting 101.

Please send help. He has no idea how to even wrap a diaper on a child, let alone r a i s e one.

Jason had to have Dick help him out a lot little.

However, after a while, Jason fell into a good routine after doing a lot of research and hands-on learning.

He totally owns one of those 'Parenting for Dummies' books but will completely deny any kind of knowledge about it should anybody find it (demon spawn from hell aka damian fucking wayne)

Spending time with you, Red Hood later. ALWAYS.

He honestly adores you.

You are his everything and if there's one thing Jason never thought he would have wanted until now, it is definitely you.

Instantaneous Death to anybody who even mentions your existence.

Jason Todd Will Not Hesitate, Bitch^TM

He actually snapped at a woman who said she could just 'eat you up'

"Yeah, well, we don't believe in cannibalism, so."

Jason definitely sings you to sleep, and is proud, even touched, that you will raise hell if he fails to sing you to sleep right on schedule.

As you grow and get into school, Jason is quick to teach you self defense.

And taught you that all boys had a contagious virus and to punch any that tried to kiss you or hold your hand. (Female)

And taught you that girls were the devils spawn and were to be avoided at all cost (Male)

You once got suspended for calling the teacher an 'asshat'. Jason was lowkey sort of proud. Dick wasn't amused.

You have a white streak in your hair, and when you need to be with your father, he will play with that lock of hair.

You and Jason are exactly alike, with some different attributes. But that doesn't make you any less of a Todd.

Your damian's favorite. Just saying.

Tim Drake

You were definitely not what Tim Drake was expecting.

But definitely everything he wanted.

If there is one thing you both know how to do, it's complain.

"Oh my god, I did literally everything the books told me to do. Why are you still c r y i n g???"

"...WAH-"

*slams head into desk*

Tim swears that if he wasn't a coffee addict then, he fucking is now.

No sleep. At all. You give him too much shit.

Jason thinks it's hysterical because you seem to be Karma in a onesie for all the times Tim was a little shit to him.

Tim loves you to the moon and back, but you never fail to irk at least one of his remaining nerves that still works.

P r o b l e m a t i c C h i l d r e n

Yes, that means Tim and you.

Did he give you a bath just now? No the fuck he didn't. Did he just clean the high chair? No the fuck he didnt, bitch. Did he just change your diaper? Come back, bitch. It's a shitstorm in here, and you're in the eye of the hurricane. Gas mask it up, son.

As you grow up, Tim wants you to get out there and do whatever. He's slightly not ok with you dating, but don't think he won't do at least 15 background checks, stake outs, securing the perimeter, interrogations, whatever. Each. 15 each.

You are a computer genius just like him, but don't spend your time on the computer all the time. Mostly just to play games here and there.

As you grow in school, there is not a single day that goes by that you absolutely loathe it.

Honestly

Why cant you just homeschool. We have the capability too.

"Who even needs human friends? Uncle Damian is doing just fine with his animals."

"He also has homicidal tendecies, so. You're gonna get some human interaction whether you like it or not."

Honestly, you and Tim butt heads all the time, but at the end of the day, you are his flesh and blood, and he will protect and love you till the world stops turning.

Damian Wayne

Let's be honest: Damian Wayne would be the most worried and/or scared person on earth if he found out he was gonna be a dad.

All these insecurities about his past, the bad memories, all of it coming back to haunt him as he thought about his child.

Damian was not ready at all.

He was honestly very weary of you. Since he didn't really get along with children, there was no way to explain to him how to raise his kid for the next eighteen years.

He realized that when he held you. Kinda like an 'aha' moment, but with an 'oh shit' instead.

After Damian warmed up to you, though, he was Dad to the Max. Spin the fucking wheel to jackpot.

Damian has very high expectations for himself as a dad. He needs to be on top of the mark at all times or he is sure he has failed you.

Damian is a perfectionist, so if he doesn't get you to calm down after screaming bloody murder on the first try, he literally wants to stab something because wtf he was sure he was doing this right.

Damian sings you to sleep. Dami has the voice of an angel when he's quietly singing and it's soothing as fuck. Never fails to make you sleepy. Add in a bit of bouncing while leaned against his shoulder and it is lights o u t.

Damian is a very teasing father, despite how serious he can be. You are the only person who he shows his soft, relaxed side too. You are his everything and he lets you know that shamelessly.

Damian will kill anybody who even dares to mention your name or make horrible implications about your existence.

That is his child and he will fuck someone up if they speak wrongly of you. Talk shit, get hit, bitches get a fucking katana to the eye.

Definition of the meme "Don't talk to me or my son ever again."

Damian Wayne Will Definitely Not Hesitate, Bitch^TM

As you grow up, Damian makes it crystal clear.

NO DATING AT ALL.

Damian is protective as fuck. He needs to know where you are, where you are going, who is going with you, who is all going to be there, how long is it gonna be, how long are you gonna be driving there, are there gonna be any boys present, Drake, would you finish the damn background checks already???

Damian is just like Dick: not even in the afterlife or the bullshit after that.

You are very much like Damian. Practically a spitting image. It makes Damian feel proud because of the Wayne Legacy that you might keep up, his ego, and the fact that his child is a badass and looks like one too.

Damian and you are not perfect, though. You two often get into arguments about certain things, usually the littlest. One of the things you two often fight about, however, is the mantle of Robin.

Huge no-no.

Noooo. No no no.

There is no way you are becoming Robin. You are his baby and he is NOT going to let some STUPID costume ruin that for him.

He can be very cold, even to you at times, and since you didn't inherit his amazing lack skill of patience, you are often calling him out on his bullshit and his attitudes.

Seriously. Who even is the adult here anymore.

You are taller than Damian. It infuriates him to no end.

"Dad, how's the weather down there?"

"gROUNDED."

At the end of the day, Damian loves you dearly and you love him dearly as well. There is never a dull moment between you two and it makes for a harmonious atmosphere. Even if you can be a pain in each other asses, Damian is sure he would be lost to the world of familial love had it not been for you.

You are his rock and he is your oasis in a barren land. Family always, always matters to you both.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (40)

Anonymous said: Holy frick that is so encouraging and I needed that so much bc I literally visited my college to measure my dorm room and drove home in tears bc I panicked myself into a frenzy about whether or not everything leading me to this point has been a mistake and what if I fail and ruin my life before it even starts (I have since calmed down a little) so your encouragement was much needed & is much appreciated

I’m glad I could help <3 <3 <3 Good luck at school! I’m sure you’ll kick its ass

areverieofchaosdreams said: It's Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day. So thank you for all your amazing stories!!!

Oh goodness I’m all a blushin :’)

Anonymous said: *HAPPY WRITER APPRECIATION DAY* Send this to someone whose talent has blown you away, who you'd like to encourage to keep on writing always, and who you'd like to thank for working their butt off to provide fandom members with breathtaking stories to consume! THANK YOU :D

Aw thank you!

Anonymous said: Hi! I Hope you're well! Do you still take fic requests? Because I really miss Colin Wilkes and I'd love to a story of him with your writing!

Unfortunately I don’t often take requests these days, but I’ll definitely keep Colin in mind!

dirtycherrypie said: hey! applying for WE for the R&D department (may or may not be aware of producing bat gadgets)

dirtycherrypie said: SHit forgot my name - Bea, at your service!

[Bruce Wayne voice] hired

tigers-and-weeds said: Literally just fell down the rabbit hole on your tumblr for the last 12-24 hours. I am in love with with you headcannons and fics! The angst feeds my soul... So I figured I would request: anything angsty with Dick and Damian please please please

Okay again I don’t usually take fic requests BUT I like me some angst so the odds that this will eventually happen.... are extremely high. I’ll try to remember to dedicate the next one to you :) And thank you!

math--ew said: I went on a little birthday vacation to california and I've never been to the beach before. I was bending down to grab a pretty shell and this huge wave knocked me face first into the sand. Like, five people saw and laghed but I got the shell so I guess it's a win win.

Duuuude back at Lake Michigan last month the same thing happened to me. I was taking care of my little sister and her five year old friend, so I was so busy making sure they were okay that the wave plowed me halfway across the beach

babybatbrat said: when i was in ap physics i once spent an entire study period in my physics teacher's room working on one problem. as far as i could tell i was doing all of the work correctly and had all the initial values right so i was racking my brain trying to figure out why i wasn't getting the right answer. the third time i went up to my teacher and asked for help he told me to start at the beginning and walk him through my process bc he couldn't tell why i was getting it wrong either (1)

babybatbrat said: (2) so i start the problem and explain how i got through all the values - "okay so the rod is 5 inches long and half of 5 is 3 and a half -" and i stopped there bc it occurred to me that 3.5 is not half of 5. "it's what?" My teacher asks. i put my head in my hands and stood there for a minute before picking up my work and walking to the back of the classroom while he laughed, bc i had just spent 45 minutes convinced that half of 5 was 3.5 and not, in fact, 2.5, and that was the only thing wrong

Honestly??? Relatable

babybatbrat said: One time i woke up at six in the morning to hear the neighbor's dog barking and instantly realized that meant my dog had jumped the fence, so i went racing outside and sprinted down the street to catch her. when i did i picked her up and turned around to go home and then saw my neighbor standing on their front porch, realized i was in only an oversized spiderman tshirt and snowman pajama shorts, holding a twenty pound labrador and thats how i met my new neighbors

Incredible...... 10/10.....

thrakaboom said: Not a funny story,but two days ago at comic con I met Tom King and he showed me a picture of his kids while he was signing my books

Well hey that’s pretty cool

Anonymous said: I adore your Tumblr. It was a wonderful way to get into the Batfamily fanbase; prior, I thought that there was only one Batman and a single Robin, dearie me was I wrong. And those stories you write, just great. The Headcanons are just as enjoyable. As for Batman, that has come to be a sibling enjoyment. Thank you for your contributions and existence!

!!!!!! Welcome to the crew!

frnkensteingrrrlz said: hey!!! i just went through ur reasons to be happy tag and!! i'm so so happy bc of it (esp the damian hcs, they're spot on imo and he's my favourite) so i hope u have a good day!!!

Thanks! I am having a good day today! Although I’m sure it’s been a long time since you sent this :////

Anonymous said: HELLO I have just discovered and binge-read all of your fics with my homeboy Damian in them, and just wanted to pop by and say that I love you & you are my hero & you write my boy so well so thank u and I hope your life is blessed & you achieve your wildest hopes & dreams

My day is made :D

badfaith00 said: Best batman storyline you've ever read ?

Ooooooh hm I’m mighty attached to n52 Batman and Robin? Particularly the first storyline, but the second is also fantastic

Anonymous said: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHAMELESSLY REBLOGGING YOUR OWN WORK BC I HADNT SEEN IT BEFORE AND ITS HONESTLY SO PHENOMENAL ITS GOING ON MY LIST OF ALL TIME FAVORITES THANK U AND BLESS U

THANK YOU!!! THAT ONE IS MY FAVORITE AND I AM VERY PROUD OF IT

onwardmotley said: In today's Detective Comics someone finally told Bruce and co that Tim's alive. They didn't explain where he is, or how to get him back, but hey. It might've had more impact if anyone was seen actually mourning Tim and it wasn't just played as him being in cosmic time out, but at least it should end soon idk. Hopefully.

Tim Drake? It’s been years since I heard that name.....

Finally. Thank goodness.

Anonymous said: Idk if I prefer your soul crushing angst or your heartwarming fluff... actually I like to suffer so I'll stay with angst lol

Y’all seeing this? Anon gave me permission. Can’t yell at me next time because it won't be my fault (thanks babe :))

Anonymous said: for music, idk what kind of music u like so here is variety: St. Vincent - Paris is Burning, Sea Wolf - Dear Fellow Traveler (tbh everything by Sea Wolf is great), Dirt Poor Robins - Eleanor Rigby, Between Wind and Water- HAEL, Ellem - Kings and Queens and Vagabonds, The Rigs - Rise & Fall, Tally Hall - Light and Night, and Streetlight Manifesto - The Hands that Thieve.

Thank you! I’m excited to listen to these! I’ll start right now!

Anonymous said: 1) What are the good comics to read for Batfamily stuff (from any point in time) and 2) what are the best Jason Todd comics? Thanks!

Okay for Jason I would definitely start with the big ones, which are A Death In the Family and Under the Red Hood. After that you could try Red Hood: the Lost Days and Countdown to Final Crisis. I would avoid the n52 series until you have a good enough grasp of the character to recognize bad writing when you see it. 

For the generalized batfam.... that’s pretty broad. My personal favorites are Red Robin, Batgirl (2009), and both B&R series. If you have more specific questions, you should IM me! I promise I’m better about answering those than asks

yellowwallsbluesky said: Have you heard Swooner by The Zolas? I've really been jamming to it lately

Listening to it right now! Sounds like a bop so far :)

Anonymous said: Hidden citizens paint it black 💜

Much obliged!

Anonymous said: Harry styles "sign of the times".

[adds to list] thank you!

neo669 said: I MISS CASA OLE!! Sorry just read that you lived in Bryan/College Station and I used to live there as well. It's kinda hard to find people that even know that it exists. But I'm sure you can kick law schools butt. You got this!

Yooooooo I miss cstat too :((((

palliddark said: Adalgiza, and I'll be a translator (English to Brazilian Portuguese)

[Bruce Wayne voice] also hired

maeofthedead said: I love your headcannons and now I sort of want to cry thank

Excellent that is the exact target response 

Anonymous said: Love your rant in the tags about the pizza making I'm laughing so hard

Listen..... I have strong feelings

Anonymous said: Did you hear they're making an omnibus of Tomasi's entire run on Batman & Robin?? I just heard and now I kinda want to get this massive book in honor of my favorite batkid and the series that made me love him so much

Man I already have all the individual volumes but if I didn’t......

sonicboom00724601 said: Hi. :) Nice headcanon. :)

I’m not sure which one you’re talking about, but thank you! You're real sweet

Anonymous said: can you maybe write an interaction between Wonder Woman and Captain America? I absolutely adore your style and would love to see your take on it.

Hmmmm I don’t really have a good enough grasp of Captain America’s characterization to try that one :////

Anonymous said: i tried to kill on mosquito that was on my ceiling by slamming it with a book but mosquito was on the move so i bounced swiftly and jammed both my wrist and thumb and now my existence is Pain. also my thumbs swelling and looks purple, so that's nice

Oh shit anon you good???

daziy said: Do we know who Barbara's mother usually is?

Yeah! In her original version, Babs had a birth mom and an adopted mom. She was originally Jim’s niece, so her birth mom’s name was Thelma Gordon. After the adoption, her parents were Jim and Barbara Gordon, with her adopted mother being her namesake. So two Barbara Gordons.

I think for awhile the canon was that her mother died in a car crash, but the current version has her still alive. She left Jim when Babs was young, taking her son (Babs’s brother) with her. James Gordon (the son) turned out to be a serial killer. 

Barbara Gordon Sr. and James Gordon Jr. both appeared in the n52 Batgirl series during the Death of the Family arc. There’s also a very good story about James from the Dickbats period. That one’s called The Black Mirror, if I’m not mistaken?

Anonymous said: Hi! What do you think of the upcoming metal event? Dick and Damian seem to have a big role in it ( I hope Jason is involved too but there's still no sign of it)

Hmmmm I don’t know that I have an opinion just yet, but as always, I hope to be pleasantly surprised 

Anonymous said: bless you are your wonderful tagging system. know that i may have avoided death because of how easy it was to f ind the thing I wanted in your tags. bless

Oh goodness anon I hope you’re not serious about almost dying.... but thanks?

Anonymous said: hi amy! would u say that damians narrative is written as a child abuse one? like there are definitely many allusions to it but its also not as explicit as say, cassandra or rose. like how much of it would u chalk up to comic world dynamics and how much to actual abuse? also would u consider jason to also be a case of this?

Oh I have very strong opinions about the role of abuse in Damian’s narrative. It’s absolutely there, and the effects are staggeringly large. There is no doubt in my mind that the league was an abusive environment, and I can’t justify some of the things Bruce did either.

I think I would say the same thing for Jason, if not quite as strongly. I definitely think that some of the things that happened to Jason as a child shaped his story later on, but less of those were abuse than outside circumstances. The n52 takes a different track on that one, I think, but I don’t put much stock in that characterization. 

Anonymous said: has jason forgiven bruce for not killing joker? if so, what made him?

Unlikely. They get along better these days, but I would argue that comes from poor characterization of Bruce, not an actual resolution process. 

mellenabrave said: My mom accidentlly threw my Damian doll away (╥_╥)

Tossed in the garbage by yet another parent--

Anonymous said: Whoa where'd you get that bat and oracle shirt you're wearing in your necklace pic? It's so cool! (The necklace is also gorgeous!)

Shoot I think it was from Redbubble? But I can’t find it now

Anonymous said: Omg that necklace was so cool!!! Kudos to the maker of it!! Also I really like your top!!

Thank you <3

[forlornmelody]

@ferociousqueak said: How about K Square Rose Tajes Bart to a Rave :D

(Sorry, this probably doesn’t work very well on mobile, but here we are 🙃)

Well, we’ll, WELL. @commander-hot-pants-blog and I are writing this crossover AU where our faves from Mass Effect, DC Comics, Life is Strange, and Confederation of Valor all work at a shopping mall owned by Ted Kord and run by his boyfriend Booster Gold.

Rose Wilson is a desk girl at the mall’s gym and Bart Allen works at Starbucks. She plans on going to a rave with Jason Todd (cause she really wants to get high and fool around with her favorite person him). Instead, Jason gets summoned to a Wayne family dinner and it’s just Jack Nought, Roy Harper (who probably work at this mall’s version of Hot Topic or Spencer’s) Rose, and Bart. Jack and Roy vanish the moment they park, and it’s just Rose left to keep Bart out of trouble. She fails hard. Bart gets high on Ecstasy and confesses his demisexual awakening for his friend Jaime Reyes (who works at the Taco Bell.) Rose conspires to get them together.

That last scene is heavily under construction at the moment so here’s some hot banter between Jason and Rose.

——-

She slides her tongue into his mouth, and her hand into his hoodie pocket.

Jason seizes her wrist, pulling away from her mouth. His breath comes out ragged. “Really?” Sitting back, she pouts. “Empty? Nothing? Nada? Zilch?”

“I’m ​working.​ ”

“Not even ​one​ joint? You disappoint me, Todd.”

“I’m not going to get arrested at work, ​Wilson.​ ”

“At least tell me there’s a party this weekend.” Rose traces the lines of Jason’s jaw. She could do it all day. It’s not her fault he’s so easy on the eyes.

Jason leans back against the boxes, pulling Rose with him. “Mm. I think there’s a rave.”

Grinning slowly, Rose braces her hands on either side of his head, letting her hair drape around their faces. “Please tell me we’re going.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get a group together.” He slides her hoodie’s zipper down. “Get a couple cars going.” His eyebrows scrunch together as he grins up at her. “Shouldn’t you be thinking about r i g h t n o w ?​ ”

“Depends.” Her hand slides underneath his hoodie and his shirt, shivering at the way his skin jumps. It should be illegal for someone to be this perfect. “Is it going to be more fun than this weekend?”

Jason rolls them over, pushing her shirt up. “Depends.” He lavishes her middle with kisses. “On.” A breath. “Where your head's at.”

WIP Folder Meme

Tagged by @inquartata30 and @leysendris Thanks, darlings!

Tagging: @bronzeagelove, @joufancyhuh, and @ferociousqueak if you haven’t done this yet and would like to 😅

Rules:

Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Send me an ask about the title that most intrigues you, or interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

[violetsmoak]

Tabula Rasa [7/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183281/chapters/49466486

Blanket Disclaimer:

Summary: Tim and Jason have known they are soulmates for years, though neither has said anything about it. Tim thinks Jason doesn’t know and is just trying to live with it. Jason thinks Tim knows but doesn’t care, which is fine with him, he thinks the soulmate thing is a crock anyway. But one night, a minor mishap forces them to confront the issue head-on, leading to a series of events no one could have predicted.

Rating: PG-13 (Rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #soulmate aversion #secret identity 

First Chapter

Author’s Note(s): In which as time passes, Jay's not having an easy time coping with all this soulmate stuff, and Tim's still trying to figure everything out. And Alfred is his usual awesome self.

________________________________________________________________

“Forget almost being assassinated, how did he not die just from tripping over something in the dark, or eating expired food?” Jason asks as he looks around the disaster zone that is Tim Drake’s apartment. There are takeout containers and empty coffee cups covering every surface, and clothing soiled with dirt and blood and what looks like sewer sludge strewn across the floor. Packaging and bubble wrap twist around the legs of tables and extension cables create startlingly effective tripwire traps. “Can’t you people afford a maid service?”

“Surely even you aren’t so thick that you don’t understand why that would be a bad idea,” Damian points out as he walks in behind him, carrying several large boxes from the local hardware depot. As he deposits them, he surveys the apartment with something more like horror than disgust. “This is the residence of the man my grandfather considers his equal?”

“He’s not usually this bad,” Dick says with a sigh as he closes the door behind him with one hand and deposits his own burden of packages. His eyes rove across the open concept living area with a worried expression. “I was here like three weeks ago and it was spotless. I mean, his room was a disaster zone, but that’s just Tim. Messy genius, you know?”

“If this is how he lives, perhaps the social workers are correct that he needs a more qualified minder.”

Dick ignores that. “I don’t get it. It’s like he just gave up. What the hell happened?”

Jason remains quiet; he has a nasty suspicion he knows exactly what made Tim stop caring.

Whatever, I’m making up for it now, aren’t I? In fucking spades…

He’s been avoiding Tim’s apartment for weeks now, stubbornly squatting in different buildings every night or shelling out for a motel when he wants an actual bed or shower. But the last few days he found several itching bites on his skin, and hell no. He swore when Bruce took him in, he was done with bedbugs and lice and any other critter that can be found in questionably cleaned bedding.

As luck would have it, Dick was on his way over here with Damian to install handicap bars in Tim’s bathroom and check the place over for any other chores or tasks that needed doing.

“I still don’t see the point of that,” Jason says, nodding at the boxes of tools and components. “In what universe do you see B letting Tim leave the manor any time in the next year or so? Even when he gets his memories back.”

“It’s a compliance thing,” Dick informs him. “Now that Tim’s making actual strides in recovery, social services will be coming at some point to check that everything is set up for his rehabilitation if he chooses to come here. If it’s not done, it won’t look good.”

“That chick’s still pushing this?”

“Oh yeah. She keeps coming up with new requirements she insists be filled. Independent psych evaluations, bi-monthly physicals performed by state doctors—she even wants him to attend mandatory rehabilitation at some government facility in Blüdhaven.”

“What? Why there?”

“Aside from the fact Gotham’s mental health infrastructure is riddled with the criminally insane?”

“Fair…”

“Babs looked into her and it looks like Bruce had the right idea. Gillian Sato’s a nobody. Completely average in everything, trying to make a name in her department by going after a big fish. And you know that Bruce has been CPS’ great white whale since he took me in. You too.”

“I remember,” Jason says with a scowl.

It was shortly after he was taken in by Bruce. He had just started as Robin, was beginning to see Bruce and Alfred as family and the manor as home. And then some do-gooder social worker with the ‘best intentions’ and a dislike of Brucie Wayne exploited a technicality that let her remove Jason from the Wayne household. The next weeks and months dragged Jason through such an emotional wringer that his already abundant trust issues increased by orders of magnitude. Even before he and Bruce started to butt heads later, Jason would never truly be at ease in the manor ever again.

Or anywhere, really.

People let you down. People left. People could be taken away from you. These were the facts of life, and Jason vowed never to forget them again.

It’s yet another reason he’s so resistant to the idea of soulmates. Having one just makes it easier to be let down or to have them taken away. Hell, he’s seen that firsthand, hasn’t he? A simple errant bullet and he almost had to watch his die. He can’t even imagine what this whole ordeal would feel like if he was close to Tim.

Lost in his thoughts, it takes him a moment to realize Dick is still talking.

“…her higher-ups barely know anything about her. Most of them are willing to let this thing with Tim go, but she’s the one who keeps pushing it. Poking for loopholes whenever she hits a new roadblock.”

“So have Barbie make her go away,” Jason suggests.

“And give support to the idea Bruce Wayne is above the law because of his money?” Dick challenges. “That would put a lot more attention on the issue than anyone wants. For now, we just play it the legal way. Once Tim’s eighteen, she’ll have lost a major avenue to exploit.”

“Which means you guys have to put up with her trying to wrap you in red tape for the next four months at least.”

“This is ridiculous,” Damian mutters.

“I know.”

“Not that—although yes, this farce of legal compliance is a waste of everyone’s time. But I’m talking about how no one has done anything about Drake’s condition other than wring their hands.”

“Excuse me?!”

“If we’re ever going to go on with our lives, he must be fixed, and faster than some useless stretching is going to do.”

“Kid, how exactly do you think your dad got back to fighting condition after Bane broke his back?” Jason questions. “‘Useless stretching’ was a big part of it.”

“And a hell of a lot of drive,” Dick adds. “Which Tim doesn’t really have enough of right now. I mean, I know he wants to get better, but it’s not the same as if he knew who he was.”

“Exactly. He would already be walking, I’m sure,” Damian nods. “Then you’re in agreement with me.”

“Well, yeah—wait. What am I agreeing with?” Dick asks, suspicious.

“Through my observations of the situation, I have determined that Drake is unlikely to ever regain full functionality or his memory. The easiest way to fix this would be a Lazarus Pit. I happen to know of one in Cuba.”

“Holy no Batman!” Dick cries. “Did you forget what happened when I tried doing that for Bruce?”

“It would be different in this case, since we know for sure that it’s Drake and not a decoy,” Damian argues. “At least, the body bit. And Todd recovered from brain damage thanks to the Pit.” He considers Jason. “Well. More or less. I did not know you before, therefore I have no basis of comparison.”

“And you also missed the murderous rampage that happened afterward,” Jason growls. “Not being able to control yourself sucks. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Even Tim.

Especially not Tim.

“If anyone possesses the ability to fight off the effects of the Lazarus Pit, it’s Drake,” Damian insists. “He does not have the same latent anger or violent tendencies as Todd’s files say he had.”

“Hey, stay the hell out of my business!”

“Tim might not be as violent as Jason is or was—”

“Screw you, Dickhead.”

“—but he definitely has the capacity for anger. And as it is, he suffers from severe depression,” Dick informs them soberly. “To the point where he’s considered suicide at least once in the past.”

Damian and Jason’s eyes snap to his face.

“What?” Jason demands.

“That was not in his file.”

“Because he didn’t want it there,” Dick tells them, weary. “In case someone tried to use it against him.”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of fucking important to people know about?” Jason demands. “Especially if they have to go out in the field with him?”

He’s having a sudden flashback to the night when everything came out into the open, when he swooped in to save Tim from a fall that he should have been able to divert himself.

Shit. What if that wasn’t an accident like I thought?

“We all have things in our history we don’t want in the files,” Dick reminds them, his face becoming hard for a moment as if he’s remembering something. Then he shakes it off. “Tim’s been dealing with it. He’s on medication, he reaches out when it gets bad…but it’s an ongoing process. I don’t need to tell you guys that.”

“If he didn’t want anyone knowing, he’s going to be pissed you tattled.”

“I’m only speaking up so Damian understands what a bad idea it would be to put Tim in a Lazarus Pit. Depression on top of Pit madness? I don’t want to even think about what he might do.”

Not to mention bringing him anywhere near where Ra’s might pop up is asking for trouble, especially since he can’t fight him off right now.

“So, you are insisting on this waiting nonsense,” Damian concludes, looking frustrated.

“It’s all we can do for now, Little D.”

The kid’s expression remains stormy.

⁂

Damian strides into Tim’s bedroom one morning, wearing a determined expression and followed by his gigantic dog, Titus.

Tim feels a little wary, not so much because of the intimidating canine, but because his younger brother rarely comes near him voluntarily.

“I have read in numerous medical journals the benefits of animal companions in increasing the likelihood of recovery from traumatic brain injuries,” he announces. “Since Father is adamant, we are not getting another dog, I have decided to allow you to spend time with Titus while I am engaged in my studies. I am confident it will contribute to improvement in your condition.” He gestures at the dog. “Titus, stay with Drake. I shall collect you later.”

Then he nods to himself, as if concluding business, and leaves the room.

Tim stares after him, utterly bewildered at the turn of events. Titus watches the boy go, whines for a moment, and then looks over his shoulder at Tim, head cocked to one side as if wondering what that was all about.

All he can do is shrug, which he feels ridiculous about a moment later because Titus is a dog and has a limited understanding (even if Damian speaks to him as if he’s a human being). Still, a beat later, the dog wanders over to Tim’s bed, and rests his head upon the mattress, gazing up at Tim with curious eyes, his tail wagging somewhat.

Slowly, Tim reaches out with his right hand and places it on the dog’s head, causing the tail-wagging to speed up, and scratches him behind the ears.

Titus thus becomes a semi-permanent element of Tim’s recovery process. Damian comes by every morning to drop the dog off as if he’s a parent leaving a child at daycare or school and leaves for several hours. Titus then goes to Tim for obligatory head-pats and only lets up when it becomes clear Tim’s energy is flagging. Even then, he doesn’t go anywhere, simply curling up beside Tim’s bed. When Damian returns, he pokes his head in, nods again, and gestures for the dog to depart with him.

The whole situation is bizarre, but Tim thinks it’s the way Damian expresses worry.

Having Titus around has the added benefit of intimidating Gillian Sato whenever she comes for one of her ‘visits’. Jay can’t always make it there before she does, and she somehow manages to insist on meeting with Tim privately to avoid bias (which he doesn’t understand). Those visits when Jay isn’t present are as short as possible to comply with her wishes, but they’re long enough that Tim is always exhausted and confused at their end. With Titus there, he’s at least a bit more comfortable; the dog appears to sense when his anxiety is climbing or when Ms. Sato says something that makes him uncomfortable.

“It’s rather concerning, Timothy,” she tells him in a voice meant to be kind. “Considering all the resources Mr. Wayne has at his disposal, that he insists you recover here. Instead of in a facility specifically created to rehabilitate TBI patients. It’s almost as if he’s trying to keep you here under his watchful eye.” She leans forward, expression worrying. “You want to get better as soon as possible, don’t you?”

Before Tim can try to parse out exactly what she’s asking him (because he knows somehow the words don’t match her intention), Titus hackles raise, and he begins to growl.

Almost that same instant, Alfred will sweep in and declare that Tim is quite tired today, perhaps they can continue this interview some other time?

Tim wonders if he isn’t standing at the door eavesdropping, even though somehow, he can’t reconcile that image in his head.

Depending on the time of day that Ms. Sato arranges her ‘visit’, the family member that sits with him changes. He much prefers when it’s Jay—he’s the only one whose presence helps Tim calm down quickly after such an interview—but he’s learning to appreciate and trust everyone else in his family.

He’s come a long way since waking up in the hospital and seeing nothing but a bunch of strangers.

Bruce continues to make efforts to spend time with Tim when he wakes up in the mornings. In addition to the sudoku and crossword puzzles, which Tim has started trying to do himself in his spare time, Bruce has started playing other games with him. First Go Fish, and later Memory.

They were games suggested by Dr. Thrussell to help with Tim’s mental rehabilitation, but it turns out playing with Bruce is fun. His expression is awfully serious for what Tim knows are simple children’s games, but he always becomes exceedingly pleased when Tim makes a correct guess.

Dick, who Tim has learned from Alfred is a police officer, is not always around due to his work shifts being somewhat irregular, but when he is, he goes out of his way to help Tim with whatever he might need. It’s both touching and overwhelming; Tim likes Dick, but he feels the same amount of mental exhaustion when he leaves as he does when Ms. Sato does.

How does one person have that much energy?

His favorites besides Jay, are Cassandra and Stephanie.

Steph is nice, as well. She’s affectionate with him, has a good sense of humor, and unlike everyone else who seems wary about touching Tim beyond helping him groom himself or for physio, she’s very tactile.

And she smells nice.

He feels a level of comfort with her that is like when he’s with Jay, which he supposes is because they used to date before she and Cass discovered they were soulmates. Perhaps it’s why he doesn’t question her presence in his life the way he still does sometimes with Bruce or Dick or Damian.

And then there’s Cassandra, who’s just…amazing.

Because she’s like him, somehow.

There’s intelligence in her eyes, but she has trouble getting the words out just like he does. When she sees him struggling with his brain to mouth disconnect, she looks empathetic and he knows it’s not pity or guilt.

The latter is a look he’s started to recognize in Jay, and he doesn’t like it.

He wonders if whatever makes him look like that is the reason he doesn’t get along with the rest of the family. He wishes he could ask, though he suspects even if he could, he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

He’s not sure if that’s normal for this family, or if it’s just another attempt to keep from upsetting Tim. Ever since he started to improve, everyone seems to be wanting to keep him occupied and entertained. Sometimes it’s fun—like today, with Steph egging him on while playing Candy Crush—and other times, it’s just…

Exhausting.

His convalescence aside, Tim has noticed there are times when he feels exhausted and strained for reasons other than his injury. He doesn’t know where those feelings come from, just that he dislikes them.

⁂

One evening, a little over three months following the shooting, Jason shuffles into the manor and wonders how this became routine for him.

It should worry him; how easy it’s been to slip back into the habit of being greeted by Alfred. Into toeing off his boots in the entrance closest and loitering in the kitchen to see if there’s anything left over from lunch or dinner.

It’s deceptively simple to fall into the mental trap of calling this place home again, which is why he never lets himself stay longer than a few hours. Even when Alfred keeps offering to make up a guest room or tries to tempt him with homemade scones for breakfast the next morning.

(He can’t go near his old room, the mausoleum to shattered dreams and stolen childhood.)

Jason’s usual arguments against that are quieter right now, his mind on what Damian said the other day: that no one is trying to help Tim.

In the strictest sense, the sentiment is bullshit; everyone in the Family has been bending over backward trying to make his rehabilitation priority, to protect him from two-faced social workers and asshole paparazzi looking for a story. But there’s been no headway on the shooting, and he wonders if anyone else but him is still looking into it.

Which is stupid, because he knows for a fact that Bruce is a dog with a bone and won’t let any case go, let alone one where his kid got hurt.

So why hasn’t he found anything yet?

He knows from experience, both as Robin and Red Hood, that some cases take longer than others. Bruce spent an entire year investigating the Holiday killings before Jason got involved, and during their years together there were several ongoing cases that dragged for weeks and months before a break could be made.

There are some that remain unsolved to this day.

But this is Tim, you’d think he’d be more motivated. Unless…

Unless he has found something and just doesn’t want to share it because he thinks Jason’s going to go on a vengeful, murderous rampage.

He clenches his fists.

It wouldn’t be the first time that Bruce kept something from him or anyone else if he’s on a case he’s decided is his. He even keeps Dick out of the loop on stuff like that, and he’s the golden child.

Jason’s probably just being paranoid.

Except…

Except he learned paranoia from the best, and that paranoia isn’t always just paranoia, and if Bruce thinks he’ll react badly to something, of course he’s going to keep it from him. Which means they’re going to have a problem because this case isn’t going to get solved if they can’t share important information.

Instead of heading toward Tim’s bedroom, Jason changes course and makes a beeline for the Cave entrance in the study.

He reaches the bottom of the staircase just in time to see Nightwing and Robin peel out of the garage on two bikes. A cowl-free Batman is hunched over the computer, looking up something on the main screen, while the ones off to the sideshow various CCTV feeds from the Narrows, Tricorner and Burnley.

He catches flashes of Black Bat and Signal in the latter two, and scowls.

“I should be out there.”

“That’s not your concern right now,” Bruce replies without even turning around. “You should be upstairs with Tim.”

There’s a derisive snort at that, and Jason glances over to see Blondie balanced on her own bike, adjusting her hair beneath her cowl.

“Problem, Bat-chick?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t sound like nothin’.”

“Just seems like certain people are easier to forgive than others.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce warns, still not looking at either of them.

“No, it’s fine,” she replies. “Let’s keep tiptoeing around the giant pink elephant in the room. And by giant pink elephant, I mean crime lord.”

“That what you’re goin’ with?” Jason challenges. “You’ve been stewin’ on that for three months, and you’re gonna give me grief over bullshit that’s over and done with?”

“Clearly it’s not over and done with.”

“If you’ve got a problem with me, strap on the steel tits and own up to what it’s really about.”

“Okay, fine!” Blondie hops off the bike to march forward, stopping a good foot away from him and shoving a finger at him. “You might be his soulmate, but don’t think that gets you off for all the crap you’ve pulled. Especially since you’ve known this whole time.”

“What I know or knew is none of your business. But if you really want to have a competition about who hurt him most, my name ain’t the only one on the list.”

“Are you seriously trying to pull the ‘everyone else did it too so it’s okay’ defense?”

“No, I’m telling you to be careful in that fragile fucking glass house of yours.”

“Speaking of houses, how long are you going to keep playing house with Tim before you break his heart again? Are you going to do it right when he gets his memories back, or wait a few days for him to adjust and then drop him?”

“You think I’d be that big an asshole?”

“I know you’re that big an asshole. And so did Tim,” she shoots back, merciless. “He told me you were dead.”

“I was dead.”

“And then you weren’t. And he still always told that to anyone who asked. He knew whatever this is with you, it was never going to happen, but it also wasn’t going away. So, he was trying to move on. And if he’s smart—which we all know Tim is, memories or not—he’ll stick to that gut feeling. Because the longer he’s involved with you, the more hurt he’s going to be when you inevitably break his heart. If you were any kind of decent, you’d get the hell out of his life before he finishes imprinting on you like a baby chick.”

“That’s enough,” Bruce says, and this time he does turn around. “Stephanie, patrol.”

“I’m going,” she replies. “But not because you told me to.”

She stalks toward her bike, and after a few angry revs of the engine, speeds off out of the cave.

Bruce is still looking in Jason’s direction; he can feel the frown. “Provoking her isn’t helpful to anyone, least of all Tim.”

“What argument were you watching?” Jason shoots back. “If anyone’s provoking anyone else, it’s her. And I’m telling you now, B, if she wants a fight, I’ll give it to her. I’m putting up with enough crap because of this soulmate thing, I didn’t sign on to let Timbo’s pissed off ex-girlfriend take shots at me.”

“The lack of evidence in this case is frustrating everyone.”

Jason gives him a disbelieving look—there’s no way that Bruce can be so emotionally stunted that he can’t figure out what Blondie’s little tiff was all about.

Then again…yes, he is.

Rather than stew over Blondie’s accusations (and the fact that she’s got more of a point than he’d like), Jason decides to focus on what Bruce actually said.

“So you haven’t found anything on your end, either?”

He leans against the giant computer, keeping a conspicuous distance between him and Bruce, and trying not to feel awkward and naked without his helmet on. He doesn’t actually remember the last time he was down here and not in uniform.

“No.”

“Really. Nothing? Not a single goddamn clue? This is all just some random person that decided to take the kid out?”

“It’s not the first time someone has attempted to assassinate Tim.”

“Yeah, but I heard about that, it was all planned for. This wasn’t.”

“Hence the continued investigation.”

“Yeah, well, there’s no way you’ve been on the case this long and haven’t found something.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment and then nods. “Based on the lack of available evidence, whoever did this was a professional. Elite even.”

“No shit. We knew that from Day One.”

“I’ve since narrowed down a list of suspects from around the world, who have the capability of pulling this off.”

“And?”

“And they’re all either accounted for or dead.”

“So why do you look more constipated about this than usual? You’ve had harder cases with less evidence.”

“Almost all of these snipers were trained by David Cain.”

The name makes Jason tense. “He’s dead.”

“Yes. But before he died, he mentioned something to me. That there were others.”

“Others like Cass, you mean.”

“Hn.”

Jason grits his teeth. “So, your theory is some designer assassin Child o’ Cain decided to come to Gotham just to shoot Tim?”

“It’s not a theory. Just a possible connection. There’s too little evidence to support it.”

“Then what the hell are you spending the time on it for?” Jason demands. “If we’re going for wild conspiracy theories, why not an alternate universe or time travel? It’s just as easy to speculate someone came back in time to assassinate Tim or put him out of commission for whatever reason.”

“I won’t discount those theories either,” Bruce allows, because of course. “But in either situation, anyone coming here for Tim specifically would likely be enhanced to survive whatever means brought them here.”

“Or it’s one of us.”

Bruce doesn’t meet his gaze, but there’s a subtle tensing of his shoulder muscles.

“I saw that,” Jason points out quietly. Bruce says nothing. “You think it would be me, don’t you?”

“I never said that.”

“If it were one of us, I’m the best marksman, so if it were anyone of ours to come back and put a bullet in his head, it’d be me.”

Bruce stands then, agitated. “You’re jumping to conclusions and letting your feelings cloud your judgment. This is only one of many theories, not even the one that’s most likely—”

“Except we both know that ain’t the case!” Jason snarls. “You know as well as I do, I’m probably the reason he got shot in the first place!”

“Jason—”

“I did this, B! I was in the middle of a pissing contest with some asshole moving in on my turf and Tim got caught in the crossfire. I might as well have pulled the trigger myself!”

“You did not cause Tim to be shot,” Bruce snaps.

“That’s not what you thought when it happened,” Jason reminds him bitterly.

“And I’ve since revised my opinion. I don’t believe this to be related to the contract that was put out on Red Hood.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a totally glowing recommendation!”

“Whoever is after you obviously isn’t aware of your civilian identity, or they would still be pursuing you,” Bruce replies. “Going underground would only keep you safe for so long, and it’s been months. Whoever is targeting you may have been watching Red Hood, but they weren’t watching you. Therefore, the likelihood of Tim’s shooting having anything to do with your activities is low.”

“Seriously? That’s your explanation?”

“Jason,” Bruce sighs, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose in a familiar gesture of exhaustion. “I’m trying to tell you I don’t think you’re responsible for this. Why are you fighting me on it?”

“Because nothing is ever that easy with you! And you’re usually the one driving the ‘Jason messes everything up’ bandwagon. Don’t tell me that’s changed all because I happen to be the kid’s soulmate.”

“That has nothing to do with it. I’ve already explained my reasoning, and it’s enough for me at the moment.” He fixes Jason with a calculating look that he doesn’t like. “The question is, why are you so determined to make it your fault?”

Jason opens his mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in his throat as he realizes he has no idea how to answer that.

Bruce continues. “Your behavior is inconsistent.”

“Hell, yes, it’s inconsistent! It’s been months and I still have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to deal with all of this!”

“Perhaps you should take some time,” the older man replies, turning his attention back to the computer. “Away from here.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “Away from Tim, you mean.”

“He’s at the point where he is no longer uncomfortable with the rest of us, and you did make it clear that you only intended to stay by his side until his condition improved. I’m sure with some explanation you could take some time. It might help.”

“You just…that’s not even…”

Jason falters, not sure how to respond, because really, this is his get-out-of-jail-free card. He did say he was only going to stick around until Tim was doing better, and the kid is doing better. He can get back to his search for the dick that got him to go to ground, can get back to living his life the way he wants it and not based around a convalescent’s schedule.

But the idea of it just now, makes him feel queasy, like he’s running a dirty deal.

And on top of that, it bothers him that while Bruce is certain he’s not responsible for Tim’s injury, he still obviously has an issue with the fact they’re soulmates.

It shouldn’t bother him.

It absolutely should not bother him.

And yet.

“You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” he snaps, and heads right back up the stairs, mind racing and unable to settle on a single conflicted thought.

Upon reaching the study he finds Alfred on his way in, a tray of tea and sandwiches in hand. The older man takes one look at him and purses his lips, and puts down his burden.

“From your expression, I suspect Master Bruce will be sulking too much the rest of the evening to be interested in dinner.”

“Like I care,” Jason grunts, slamming the false front of the clock entrance closed.

“Were that the case, you would not be damaging the furniture.”

Jason scowls, though it’s somewhat tempered when Alfred offers him the sandwiches he was obviously about to bring down to Bruce.

He takes a petty satisfaction in polishing off every bit of food and tea while Alfred pretends to busy himself with tidying the already pristine study. Although he’s clearly remaining nearby should Jason need him, he doesn’t try to force a conversation.

How does he always know…?

Jason surprises himself when he’s the one to break the silence. “Why the hell does this soulmate shit have to be so complicated? Everyone else just gets it, and I just want to jump out of my fucking skin because it’s making me crazy.”

For once, Alfred doesn’t comment on his language.

“As I understand it, you have never had another person with whom you could confide about this before. You had not manifested your mark when you first came to us, and Master Bruce does tend to avoid matters of the heart and soul except when necessity requires it.”

Jason grumbles, “No kidding.”

It’s not just now, either.

Years back, Bruce got through the sex talk with his usual emotionless, detached aplomb, but didn’t bother with any of the other stuff. Jason would have thought the guy had no heart at all, except he saw how invested he got with the women in his life that mattered.

“And I would imagine discussing it with Mr. Harper and Ms. Anders has not helped, given the substantial difference in circumstances.”

“You got that right…”

“Then perhaps I might offer my own understandings if only to provide another perspective.”

Jason shrugs. “Why not? It’s not like anyone else cares, other than to look like I kicked a puppy whenever I’m in the room with Tim.”

“It has always been my belief that one’s soulmate is the person who will have the most impact on one’s life.”

“So why isn’t mine the Joker?” Jason shoots back spitefully.

“As if that creature ever had a soul,” Alfred scoffs.

“I’m just sayin’, your logic’s flawed.”

“And if you think a homicidal clown gets to claim to be the biggest impact on your life, I wash my hands of you. Do you realize you are scarcely 21 years old? You have an awful lot of life ahead of you to have that one moment, traumatic as it was, to define all of it. Perhaps in those first few months or years following the incident, yes. But you have a future, Master Jason. Soulmates are not just for the moment, but for the breadth of your lifespan. And however much strangeness we see on a regular basis in this world of ours, none of us have the ability to discern the future.”

“Except maybe Duke.”

“Except perhaps Master Duke,” Alfred allows, his mouth twitching somewhat. “But even that only comes in flashes. He cannot know it all. And neither can you.”

“Is that your convoluted way of telling me ‘chin up’?”

“That is my convoluted way of telling you that you are not the only person to find the matter of soulmates difficult to navigate. And no one—not even Master Bruce—is expecting you to figure it all out right away.”

Jason snorts. “You sure about that?”

Alfred simply raises an eyebrow as if insulted by his pearls of wisdom being questioned, and Jason raises his hands in surrender.

Never question Alfred. He knows everything.

Still, he suspects that Bruce will be getting a rather pointed talking-to in the near future. It makes him feel marginally better about the whole thing.

“Now,” the older man continues in a businesslike tone, “Timothy is in the family room this afternoon. However, I would understand if you do not feel up to seeing him today and would be perfectly willing to make an excuse for your absence should you require it.”

Jason almost accepts the out, but then remembers Bruce making a similar suggestion—albeit with more suspect motives—and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he sighs. “Knowing Timbers, he’s been waiting up all day. Least I can do is say 'hi'.”

“Indeed,” Alfred agrees neutrally, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests approval.

As long as no one else decides to ambush me with their emotional crap today, it should be fine, Jason decides, leaving the study and wandering down the hall.

⁂

Tim is sitting in the family room watching Arranged.

He spends most of his time there, either alone or with whatever member of the family is still at home that day. After so long being practically bedridden, he’s desperate to be anywhere that’s not his bedroom.

Alfred wheels him out into the gardens whenever it’s not raining or damp or windy (which, being May, it almost always is), and he’s since enjoyed the sun on his face for the first time that he can remember. He also got to experience his apparent first sunburn, because it seems his skin is notoriously sensitive.

Worth it though, to be outside.

He shifts, sitting up on the couch in front of the large television. He’s surrounded by a staggering number of blankets and pillows; Tim’s not even sure he really needs them to support him anymore—he’s been sitting up on his own for a while—but Alfred insists it’s better safe than sorry.

Titus is lying on his feet, dozing but alert. Tim’s wheelchair stands beside the couch, with Alfred the Cat (Damian seems to not have much imagination when it comes to pet names) curled up on the seat. Occasionally he opens one eye as if to check on Tim, and then returns to sleep.

He’s not a bad recovery-cat, I guess.

On-screen, Cordelia de Vere and Bertram Montmorency get to know one another and discover they actually get along, being of complementary temperaments. They have undeniable chemistry and their dialog is full of witty diatribe and veiled insults that he can’t help enjoying. It’s much more interesting than what Cordelia had with her soulmate, which he agrees with Jay about. Tim’s not sure if it’s a better match than Bertram and Maurice, who the prince continues to see in secret. Meanwhile, Gerald seems to be getting along just fine, joining the army and vowing to build himself up to meet the standards of Cordelia’s parents. He doesn’t actually seem outwardly bothered by her absence, except for several sequences of him writing her love letters.

“Never mind a bullet, this is the kind of crap that gives you brain damage,” a voice informs Tim, amused and somewhat mocking as usual.

Tim’s eyes snap instantly to Jay as he appears in the room, and he feels a smile break out on his face.

“Hi.”

It’s one of the words he’s been working on in therapy and can finally say it without having to mentally or actually hum through a children’s nursery rhyme song. It gives him a thrill of accomplishment, albeit one that pales at the thrill when Jason’s eyes widen in surprise, and then something that Tim imagines might be pride.

“Hi back,” he replies and glances around the room. The car glares up at him like he expects him to question or end his occupation of the space, but Jason simply throws himself down on the nearby easy chair—it’s the only piece of furniture free of pillows and blankets—and squints at the television. “I can’t believe you’re still watching this.”

Tim snorts and shoots Jason a wry look, mentally telegraphing his thoughts. And what are you doing right now?

“Don’t give me that, I’m humoring the invalid.”

“Uh-huh,” Tim grunts.

“That’s a lot of sarcasm for someone who can’t manage actual words yet.”

Tim doesn’t take Jason’s abrasive comments as an insult. Along with Steph, he is the only one that doesn’t try to coddle him. He talks to Tim the same way he talks to everyone else, which, like he’s equal to them even though his brain is making things hard for him right now.

Still, the reminder of his lack of verbosity directly on the heels of his recent accomplishments strikes something in Tim, something like annoyance. Something that suddenly wants to prove a point.

He frowns in effort, trying to line up thoughts and words and the movement of his mouth.

“This is seriously predictable,” Jason complains. “Obviously the writers are trying to set it up that he shows up again and sweeps her off her feet. Then the rich boy goes back to his boyfriend and watching all this is a total waste of time.” Tim doesn’t respond, and Jason glances over at him to gauge his reaction. Only to notice now that Tim is watching him instead of the show, mouth turned downward in a frown. “What?”

Tim’s lips part, then purse, and he makes a kind of humming noise in his throat, closing his eyes in concentration. He takes a deep breath and then utters a sound.

“Ju…jjuh…juh-ay…”

He blinks, somewhat surprised by himself. Jason seems to echo it. “Did you just…?”

Tim’s mouth quirks upward and he feels almost smug. Then, he slowly sounds out the word again. “Ja-ay.”

It’s slow and stilted, and his voice is raspy from disuse, but it’s there, decrying his enforced muteness.

Jay is sitting up ramrod straight now. “Holy shit, you’re trying to talk.”

The naked awe on his soulmate’s face makes him feel warm, and so Tim plods onward, ignoring the way sweat breaks out on the back of his neck or the way he feels a little dizzy.

“Th…than…kyuu…”

Jay’s expression appears to shutter, awe becoming confusion. “Uh…for what?”

“Sa…say…” Tim is panting a bit from the effort now.

“Hey, forget it, don’t push yourself,” Jason implores him, sitting up and making a pacifying gesture. “Three words is enough progress for—”

“Say-ved,” Tim interrupts doggedly. “Safe. Me. Heard…duh…di…Dick…say. You. Say-ved me.”

There.

That was almost two full sentences. He knows they’re crude and basic and maybe not quite what he was trying to say, but he managed to communicate on his own without blinking. It fills him with a buoyant glee, a bubbling temptation to laugh though he knows from experience that doing that would just make his head spin and throb.

He expects Jay to look proud again, happy or relieved—maybe even a sarcastic, teasing quip.

What he doesn’t expect is the wild gleam in Jay’s eye or the way the blood rushes from his cheeks. He looks like someone punched him, and then he’s standing, backing away.

“That…” He swallows. “I’ve got to…”

He doesn’t finish and instead turns and practically bolts from the room, leaving Tim staring after him in shocked dismay, wondering what just happened.

________________________________________________________________

To Be Continued

Poor Timmy. And just when he's starting to show some of his old spunk, too...

Things are heading for their first boiling point. Someone's got to knock some sense into Jay, either literally or metaphorically (who wants to take bets on who it will be?).