#MizMahlia's fanfiction

[mizmahlia]

Chapter 10: The one where Roy shows up again to protect Jason from his family, Jason remembers what happened that night a year ago, and Bruce and Jason finally have The Talk™ they’ve been putting off.

Bonus: Jason cracks a couple of death jokes and Dick absolutely can’t take it anymore.

[unavenged-robin]

For the fanfic writer asks, 27 & 28, please!

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

Me trying to make an outline for a fic is a bad omen for the fic itself. I usually just start writing a scene or a dialogue and then go from there.

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

The HTML. No kidding, at the beginning I struggled a lot with it because you had to put everything in manually and I didn’t know the first thing about markup languages (I’m talking 15 years ago here). On the bright side, I aced all my computer classes after I had to learn it for what was basically my pleasure.

[crazyfreckledginger]

Can I request some Motonari stuff to survive ti the quarantine (if headcanon or fanfiction and if smut/fluff/angst, I leave you the choice)

A/N: Modern day AU, hope you like it, I made a smol fluffy drabble!!

Warning: fluff

“Sweetheart that isn’t comfortable!” he shuffled in your lap. 

“I’m sorry but just keep still!” your fingers ran through his soft hair as you attempted to braid it. 

“This is stupid,” he grumbled, shifting his weight against the couch as he sat semi comfortably on the floor between your legs.

“You never know unless you try, plus it’s not like we have much to do around here anyway.” you squished his cheeks and he made the cutest pout. When you returned to your task, he attempted to reach for the bowl of popcorn across the couch without moving his head. 

“OW!” he made you jump out of your skin as he reached for the bowl, hurting himself as his hair was pulled in the process. Motonari cackled, smiling as he stared at you, “cutie,” he murmured, pinching your cheek. 

Caressing both his cheeks, you dipped down to kiss him on the forehead before flicking it. 

“Do ya have any things ya want to do? I’m going to kill something.” he sighed as you tied yet another small scrunchie around the end of the braid you just completed. 

“Mmmmh, I was thinking we should learn how to cook -- because take away every single meal is unhealthy. I have a few movies and series that we might like-”

“Horror, gory ones?” his eyes twinkled as he watched you.

“... I also thought we could try personalising a few of our plane clothes.” 

“Mmmmh hmmmm,” he didn’t seem bothered, standing up and enveloping you in his arms as he layed on the couch, holding onto you like you were a teddy bear. 

“Babyyyy I didn’t finish your hair.” 

“To hell with it!” he nuzzled your neck, kissing your jaw.

“You were never on board with the plans were you?” (on board hehe see what i did there ok i’ll stop) 

“Heh,” he snickered, you didn’t have to see him to know he had the biggest smug grin on his face. 

“At least let me do something about the last bit.” reaching to the small table, you picked up the last scrunchie, biting on it as you pulled away from him to turn around and straddle his lap.

“Please take ya time.” his hands rand up and down your legs, clearly loving the position. Taking the rest of his longer hair in one hand, you made sure it was straight and untangled before placing the rubber around it into a pony tail.

You had to stifle a laugh, seeing the whole of the hair style you gave him. The braids were neat and well done, the other half was a slightly messy ponytail, not even hanging over his brow, it was standing up, like a palm tree, a leek or even a bean stalk. 

It was incredibly cute how oblivious he was at how dreadfully different it was from what you pictured. The way he trusted you with it made your heart melt.

“Braided, ponytail hairstyle success and failure, but it wasn’t my fault.” 

“Whose fault was it hm?” he teased as you crawled backwards to cuddle his broad chest and rest against his collarbone.

“Yours,” you frowned, chuckling, he kissed your furrowed eyebrows, watching you before you pecked his chin.

“What do you want to watch?” 

“Spirited Away,” 

“I’ve taught you well!” you chuckled.

Comments, votes and feedback improve motivation, writing and publishing, so it is in your best interest to leave some! :)  

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Tagging: @lumifuer @ijustwantmyshipstobehappy @plethora-of-things @xlatinaaxx @lostnliterature @batette @schweeeppess @gearsinice @mizmahlia @tina8009 @alex--awesome--22 @disa @caswinchester2000 @datemasamunemaiwaifu @mitsuhidethesnek @swordsmanofsweets @jadaninerowena @izra-k @cailannuesugi @towa-no-yume  @tinylittlehell@ikemencrossedmyth @ozziegrl71 @fo-love @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta

[schweeeppess]

Callout Post

So this is what the title say it is, but not a bad kind of callout post :D It’s a post to show my mutuals my absolute love for y’all, and I hope it’s worth it? Sorry in advance if I forget anyone, or don’t have much to say! I love you all!

@mizmahlia: Gosh where do I start? M&Ms, you were the first person who sent me a prompt when I popped up on this site and you gave me so much courage and motivation to keep on writing when I was still a small blog (well I technically am one again now but that’s my bad 😂), and I’m forever grateful to you for that. Honestly you were someone I admired even before I had Tumblr--I read some of your stuff over on ff.net and was in love. Back then I didn’t even dream that I’d get so close to someone that’s as awesome and supportive as you. Whenever we talk it’s always a great exchange, whether I’m telling you about that crush I have or we’re just goofing off about DC. You’ve been a positive influence in my life for about three years now, M&Ms, and I’m so grateful to you for that. Honestly, I don’t know if I’d have kept writing if it weren’t for you, so thank you. You’ve been there the entire time to watch me grow as a writer, and I literally can’t thank you enough for being part of my story. Lots of love goes your way, M&Ms.

@an-all-write-life: Sunbeammmmm! Your nickname should say it all, sis, but I don’t know if even that can properly express just how wonderful and awesome it is to know you. I started following you when you were doing the ships for a celebration (I think it was 600+?), and fell head over heels for your stuff. I don’t really remember how we got to talking, but we did, and I don’t regret that for a minute. We started off just talking about Batfam and Marvel (oh my God do you remember the football touchdown dances????? 😂😂😂), but then discovered each other’s just fantastic taste in books and had even more to bond over and talk about. Like, Minho? A whole sass master. Nothing can out-sass him. Evan? A whole ball of deadly killer who suffers extreme social anxiety. Target is his worst enemy. You were another positive influence I had in my writing. Your reblogs were enough, but when you added commentary it encouraged me even more. I haven’t known you as long as I have M&Ms, but you’ve become a great part of my life all the same. Thanks for putting up with this mess of mine 💙

@crazyfreckledginger: My CDS, my gold in the flames, my diamond under pressure! I think you were the one who reached out when we started talking, and I couldn’t be happier that you did. You’re such an awesome and great person that I have the extreme pleasure to know, even if you don’t see that all the time. Your work is great and every time you write it’s amazing. THAIGO IS TIM, SIS, YOU CAN’T TELL ME HE ISN’T!!!!! You tease me the most about my crush and I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re someone I’m comfortable with and someone I talk to who cheers me up when I’m feeling down, even though you might not know it when I am down. You’re just such a great and kind person that ever interaction, whether you’re feeling down or great, is always a wonderful, enjoyable one. Thank you, CDS, for simply being part of my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

@boosyboo9206: Oh, O. (haha, puns :D) I remember that we bonded over a YJ post that got way too long, and another that I made to help you with S2 feels, and a fic I wrote. You were the one who popped a message first and from there it evolved into alternating screaming about Jason and Lobdell’s godawful writing, crying about Wally, screaming about fanfiction, normal conversations without yelling or crying, and just an amazing friendship to have made. You I hinted to about my past and something traumatic that happened, and only you have I told about that. You didn’t react the way I thought you would and surprised me by understanding and reassuring me about it. You’re a wonderful person that I have a privilege to know. Thanks for being a great friend and support. 

@pure-leafs: Siiiiiiiiiiii, the person who has not made me get invested in a mascot that gives children nightmares, the person who’s probably as awkward as I am, the brilliant writer with the sometimes red hair, my good Gritty friend! I’m not sure how we started talking either, but man am I glad we did. You’re funny and kind and a sarcasm queen. You’ve been there when I feel down, and have supported me through some of my decisions. You’re a confidant and an amazing friend to have. Not to mention your writing! You haven’t written something in a while but I take immeasurable joy in rereading your stuff :D Thank you, Si, for being a friend.

@avengerdragoness: Jules the dragon ruler! Gosh I’m saying this a lot lately but I’m (again) not sure how we started talking? Just that we did, and shared a couple of laughs over Jason’s dumbass and John Mulaney. I think you’re the only one I really vented to about my dad’s side of the family, and you were so supportive and awesome throughout it. Talking to you took an edge off my body I hadn’t known about, and I’ll forever be grateful to you for letting me open up about that. We don’t talk as much anymore, but your friendship is still one I value and treasure regardless ^^ Thank you, Jules, for your support and care.

@red-balistic: Redddddd! Your stories are gonna be the death of meeee! ALL OF YOUR ANGST FOR MA BOI TIMMY I JUST---BKDSFAGHN. We started talking by you reaching out after I encouraged you to post your writing, I think? It started on the notes section of Buried Among Ashes and evolved into a awesome friendship and companionship that I will never regret and always think on with a spark of joy. You’re always there to cheer me up if I feel down, or give me some advice I didn’t know I needed, and I want to thank you for that. You’re such a cool and uplifting person to know, and I’m grateful every time we talk for it. Thanks, Red, for your cheer and encouragement ^^

@angstytodd: Alex. We started talking only recently, but that hasn’t been something I regret in the least. You’re a very real, very strong person who knows her limits and when she needs help, and I admire you so much for that. You’re a great person to know, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have you as a friend and part of my life. You’re awesome, Alex, and thank you for your companionship and support.

@queen-fighter: PAISANAAAAAA! I think you reached out to me about being Mexican? No se, but I’m so happy that you did. It was awesome a saber que I wasn’t the only Mexican here who had a great love for the Batboys. We didn’t talk often, and we still don’t, but every time we do it’s always a pleasure that I enjoy. Tienes un personalidad tan amazing. Te quiero paisana!!!!

@v01d-ch1ld: I can’t remember how we started talking either, but I’m pretty sure you reached out about your story, or asked for advice? I offered to be your beta and from there we started talking. We don’t talk as much anymore but I think that’s my bad. Pretty sure that’s my bad. Really sure that’s my bad. My bad! Sorry about that! You’re a very calm and down-to-earth person who’s going through some rough stuff, but carries it like a soldier. I respect you for that, and it really is great to know you. Your writing is improving every time you write, and I couldn’t be happier to have been a part of your growth the way someone I admire was for me. You gave the the opportunity to be, and thank you for that.

@pythiaaa: Hey, Pys. We haven’t spoken in a long time and that is entirely my fault. Ever since out last conversation I’ve been staying away because I thought that you would want me to, that you didn’t want to hear from me or see my blog title at all or ever again because it utterly sickened you. It was an assumption I made on my own and I’m sorry. I’m sorry because with you all I ever did was assume. I assumed you understood just how busy I’d become in school, that you were okay with the long pauses between our interactions, and that you knew why I could only ever really to force myself to make at least a couple of minutes for you when I felt you needed me. I’m sorry for that. It was such a wrong and unfair thing to do to you, and I’m owning up to it. I’m sorry for everything I did wrong, for every way I hurt you without intending on it, and for the distance I hadn’t realized I put between us. I included you in this post because you were a very important part of my life. I opened up to you the most about my feelings, even if it didn’t seem like it, and you supported me and helped me feel better about myself. You encouraged my writing and always commented if you could. You’re part of the reason I got to where I did, whether or not you realized it, and I wanted to thank you. Thank you for being part of my life for as long as you were. Thank you for the support and kindness you gave. Thank you for the encouragement. I’m not telling you all of this now thinking it’ll fix everything because I know it won’t, but I wanted you to know regardless. Thanks, Pys.

[everbluesky]

Grey-Part 1

Hello everyone! Here’s the finished product of my fanfiction! I hope you enjoy!

Pairings:None

Tim slid down the black, slippery mud path, careful to avoid the pieces of metal protruding from the ruin-like buildings on both sides as he slid at a high speed. As soon as he reached the bottom, he broke off into a sprint. He knew if he was going to get back to his place safely, he was going to have to do it quickly.

After all, if he stalled now, he would die.

And there would be no one to save him.

So Tim kept running. He ran through the rubble of what once was a city, jumping over fallen pieces when they got in his path. He glanced behind him. Crap. They were gaining on him, but he could hear them better than he could see them. They panted loudly as they ran, and they weren’t exactly the most graceful creatures either. One of them crashed through the rubble loudly, scrambling over a large chunk of rubble and attempting to jump at him. Tim quickly jumped to the side, while keeping his pace of course. He heard it land harshly on the ground, and he swore he could hear a loud crack. No time to stop though.

Why should he stop for something that would kill him the first chance it got?

Two more ran past their fallen comrade, not even bothering to check on it. He could hear them coming up quickly on both of his sides. So they were going to try strategy now? That’s very unusual for them. Suddenly, the one on his left lunged at him, and Tim barely had enough time to jerk his body back. But he did, and it went barreling into its comrade on the right.

Tim took no time to check on them as he jumped straight over the mass. He saw his place in the distance over the trees on the side of the black, muddy path. Tim couldn’t help but relax a little.

He was almost there.

Suddenly, one of his hunters jumped onto his back. Crap. He hadn’t been paying attention. He crashed on the ground harshly, his attacker jumped off his back and stood over him triumphantly. Tim didn’t move a muscle.

He held his breath.

He felt his attacker grab his boot with its teeth, and flinched as the creature dug its fangs into his foot and shook it around a couple of times. It then let go and began to circle around him, growling and sniffing as it did. As slow as humanly possible, Tim let out a slow exhale and reached for a small black orb on the side of his belt. He grasped it carefully in his hands as the ginormous, dog-like creature leaned its eyeless head down towards him and let out a low growl.

Tim suddenly pushed a small button on the small orb, and it let out a loud, ear-piercing siren. The eyeless monster let out a sound similar to a bark, and Tim jumped up quickly and threw the orb as hard and as fast as he could. The creatures large ears perked up and followed the noise as it soared across the large meadow. It let out a low, terrifying howl and then broke into a full on sprint, running to the direction in which he threw the orb.

Tim dropped into a crouch and watched as several others of the creatures raced past him and over to the loud noise. They made loud whines, barks, and howls as they did. They were smaller, so they must be the beta type. And that other one must be one of the alphas then, he thought to himself.

He let out a soft, soundless sigh as he picked up several tools that had fallen off of him when he had been knocked to the ground. He quickly put them all back in their appropriate places and went to pick up the last object. It was a long, sturdy, black metal staff. It was similar to his Bo staff, in a way, but it was a lot heavier, and it was much than just a Bo staff. It was a multi weapon, and it was made of a metal stronger than any earth material.

He had found all of his most recent gear at his “home”. It was the only place that was relatively safe. A tall, office looking building that was the only thing still standing. Tim was lucky to have appeared next to it when he had first gotten here. How he had gotten here, exactly, was a complete mystery. Ok, not a complete mystery, but…it wasn’t what he had been expecting. But then again, he wasn’t expecting anything.

All he knew is that he missed his family, and not his biological family, per say.

But his real family.

Bruce.

Dick.

Jason.

Steph.

Cass.

Babs.

Alfred.

Heck, even Damian.

He had no idea how long he had been in this crazy, messed up place. This world that looked like a black and white movie, void of any color what-so-ever. A world with a grey, cloudy sky that always looked as if it would rain any second, but never cleared. Tim didn’t know if his family was trying to find him. But, then again, why would they? He was just the stand-in, wasn’t he? He had pushed his way into the “Bat-family” and he was sure he wasn’t even wanted.

Why else would Dick turn his position of Robin over to Damian the first chance he got? Why else would Jason and Damian constantly insult him, and even try to kill him? He was just the info guy. Just a college intern that got paid by having food and a roof over his head.

Oh well, it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was surviving. No one was here, and no one could help him if he got hurt, so he had to keep moving. He had to.

Tim put the staff on his back and began to walk towards his towering safe-place. The orb would roll away and go off for another hour or so, and as long as he didn’t make a noise louder than that, he was perfectly safe, for now.

He gave once last glance in the direction that the creatures had run before turning to the field that surrounded his home. The field looked like one of those long grass fields you would see in the country-side, except for that the plants in it were completely black. It didn’t really bug him that much anymore, after all, he blended in perfectly.

His new outfit–which consisted of a long, sleeveless, hooded trench coat, a long black under shirt, sturdy leather gloves that came up to his elbows, two black utility belts on his waist, black shorts, grey leggings, and long black leather boots that came up just above his knees–was completely black, save his leggings and parts of his gloves. The hood was also very strange. When he put it over his head, it provided an almost veil-like cover that made it impossible for anyone on the outside to see his face, even if they shone a light directly at him. It was strange, but he didn’t mind. He could still see after all.

Tim continued to limp through the field, his feet making no sound with each step. That was another thing that had happened when he had gotten here. He made no sound when he walked, and very little sound when he ran. It was fine though, it helped him get past the creatures with little-to-no problems. It was just a little freaky.

He finally reached the front of the large, dark grey concrete building and walked through the doorless doorway. Tim limped up the stairway and made his way up to the seventh floor, where he had made his home. He jumped across the large gap between the stairs and the seventh floor, where part of the stairs had broken off, fallen, and crumbled to rubble on the set of stairs below. He winced as he landed, and he could feel blood in his boot.

Tim stood up shakily and looked at the worn sign on the wall that depicted a barely visible number seven. He walked through a doorway and into a large, empty room save the few office desk that were strewn across the room in an unorderly fashion. One large greyish white desk stood upright against the wall, its surface covered in various marks and scratches. He had moved it there. It was his bed. A little uncomfortable, but it beat sleeping on the floor.

He jumped up and sat on the large desk, taking the long leather boot off of his left leg. He examined the wound. It didn’t look to bad, compared to previous ones he’d gotten. Tim made sure that there wasn’t any teeth still stuck in the wound and cleaned it as best as he could with a small towel and a canteen of water in one of the drawers of the desk that he used for injuries only. It was still bleeding a little, so Tim got some gauze from his belt and wrapped it gently.

He watched as blood slowly began to soak the gauze, staining it black. Tim gave a small frown and got off the desk, being careful to land gently. He took off his hood and made his way over to a mirror on the other side of the room, stopping in front of its cracked surface and stared at his reflection.

He stared at the long black bangs, ashen grey skin, and  bright blue eyes. Tim’s eyes were the only hint of color still left on his body; his skin had turned grey shortly after he had gotten here, and shortly after he…

Tim frowned and shook his head. Maybe it was just a dream.

An incredibly long and painful dream.

He turned and limped back to his makeshift bed. Maybe he should just sleep. It’ll get his mind off of everything.

With that, Tim lied down on the cold, hard surface and closed his eyes, soon slipping into a dreamless slumber.

@asanotheronebitesthedust @boosyboo9206 @mizmahlia

[mizmahlia]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Clark Kent, Diana Prince & Bruce Wayne Characters: Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Clark Kent, Diana Prince Additional Tags: Batfam Week 2020, batfam, Family Fluff, Fluff Series: Part 1 of BatFam Week 2020

Summary: It's been less than three months since Dick lost his parents. Even though he's happy living with Bruce, he's still struggling with his grief, and Bruce would do anything to make him happy, including calling in a favor from his friend Diana. He takes Dick on a bit of a field trip to Washington D.C. to see the Hall of Justice- a place that doesn't do VIP meet and greets.

But when you’re Bruce Wayne, hell yeah, you can get the League members to meet your kid.

[mizmahlia]

When it was clear their meeting had come to an end, Stephanie and Cass snuck out of the library and went upstairs. Both Damian and Tim had questions for Bruce, and while the three of them were talking, Roy got up and put his coat on. Dick followed him out of the library and through the drawing room, waiting until they were in the front hall before he said anything.

“Did he really say he wanted to give up?”

Roy stopped and turned to face Dick, sighing deeply.

“Those words- ‘give up’? That’s part of the issue, here. Deciding you don’t want to endure any more suffering isn’t giving up or quitting, Dick. It’s a choice, and a valid one. And there’s nothing wrong with saying you’ve had enough.” He held his arms out and grinned proudly. “Look at me- I quit drinking. Was quitting that a bad thing?”

Dick’s face fell and he closed his eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Roy waited until Dick opened his eyes.

“I know, man, but you need to consider how it sounds.”

Struggling not to break down, Dick nodded. Roy immediately pulled him into a hug, squeezing as hard as he could. Dick clung to him and buried his face against Roy’s shoulder. He could feel Dick falling apart and did his best to hold him together. Once upon a time, in the not-so-distant past, Dick had done the same for him.

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” Roy murmured as he rocked Dick back and forth. “You understand what he’s going through the most, after what happened to Nora. He needs that. He needs you.”

He felt Dick nod, though he didn’t let go yet. He’d stand there as long as Dick needed him to, remembering when they were teenagers and how hurt Dick was after losing Nora. He’d taken that loss just as hard as the loss of his parents.

“And for the record, I think there’s some fight left in the guy. You know he’s never been one to go down without one hell of a fight. He grew up here in Gotham for crying out loud- he’s as scrappy and stubborn as they come.”

That made Dick chuckle and he thought back on the numerous occasions when they were young when Jason always had to have the last word or the last punch, or how he always had to prove he was tougher than he looked.

He hoped like hell that version of Jason was still in there somewhere.

[mizmahlia]

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, No capes/civilian AU, Bruce isn't Batman, Jason is a doctor, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Batfam Week 2020, There is some mention of blood and injury, but it's not graphic, This is unbeta'd, Because I'm reckless and irresponsible Series: Part 3 of BatFam Week 2020 Summary: Jason Todd goes to the bank to finalize the loan for his new house, but as it's Gotham, his day doesn't go as planned. Though he doesn't get a chance to sign the paperwork, he does save a life and make a new friend, so it's not a complete waste. And throughout the ordeal, he learns something about Bruce Wayne that most people don't know. The man isn't as naive as he seems, and he can disassemble a gun faster than Jason thought possible.

This one has fluff, I promise! Plus, it’s also got humor! 😜

[mizmahlia]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Batfamily - Relationship, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne Characters: Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown Additional Tags: This is nothing but shameless fluff, Something that I don't typically do, Family Bonding, Birthday Fluff, Happy Birthday Bruce Wayne, birthday fic, This is unbeta'd, Because I'm reckless and irresponsible

Summary: Bruce doesn't like celebrating his birthday, but this year, he changes his mind after the ones he loves show him how awesome birthdays can be.

This is pure sappy fluff and I regret nothing.

(It’s still February 19th on the West Coast, so I’m technically posting this on his birthday. Wooooo!)

[mizmahlia]

Birds of a feather watch horror movies together

Summary: It’s Halloween in Gotham and the Misfit Robins have to stick together.

AO3

-------------------------------------------------------------------

One moment, she totally had the upper hand in the fight between Spoiler and a handful of gang members who weren’t much older that she was. The next, she was on the ground on her hands and knees, choking and gasping for breath as the tell-tale green cloud spread through the empty lot in the Narrows.

The muscles around her eyes and in her cheeks started to twitch, and she desperately reached into her belt for the auto-injector pen full of anti-toxin. The pouch with the pen was in the back by her right hip, but her movements were hampered by shaking hands and an injured shoulder, preventing her from reaching behind her.

When the laughter began to painfully contract her abdominal muscles, the tears came, too, and she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to smother it. She would not go down this way. There was no way in hell her story would end with her dying of Joker toxin on Halloween, alone in the shadows of a desolate high-rise apartment building. She hadn’t even had the chance to say anything quippy or clever before her demise.

Not that there was anyone around to hear it, of course. But whatever.

With one last surge of adrenaline, she wrenched her injured arm behind her and into the pouch, fingers clasping around the pen. A laugh, mixed with her painful cry, burst from her chest and echoed into the night with a sickening wheeze. Before the laughter made it too hard for her to think straight, she twisted the cap off the end and jammed it into her upper thigh. Thankfully, the needle was long enough to penetrate the tough fabric of her uniform and her thumb pushed the button down.

She collapsed to the ground, curling into a ball. The anti-toxin burned like acid as it spread through her veins. But within about forty-five seconds, the laughter died down into chuckles, then into giggles before wilting into sobs deep within her chest as it was neutralized. Another few minutes passed before the muscles in her face relaxed, and she ran her fingers over her aching cheeks.

Breathing was still a struggle, though she knew that would be the last to get back to normal because it was the first thing affected by the gas. But she was already light-headed from the laughter and wheezing, and drawing in a steady enough breath was next to impossible. In a last-ditch effort to speed up the process, she ripped her hood and mask away from her face, rolling onto her back. Her eyes closed as the cool night air touched her face and she waited for her airway to open fully again.

After waiting for what felt like much too long, she rolled over and climbed to her knees. She rubbed a hand over her chest and tried not to panic; a panic attack right now would be seriously bad news. Her lungs were irritated enough from the gas and the cold air hadn’t helped at all, only making it more difficult to breathe. So despite every fiber of her being hating her for what she was about to do, she reached up and tapped the ear piece that was still somehow in her ear.

“Spoiler?”

Stephanie closed her eyes in relief upon hearing Oracle’s filtered voice.

“I-“

Her upper body curled in on itself as she coughed almost violently enough to be sick.

“I’m tracking your location, Spoiler. I’m sending the closest person your way. ETA three minutes.”

She coughed again and her vision darkened at the edges, sending her to down to her forearms on the asphalt. There wasn’t enough time between coughing fits for her to breathe and she knew three minutes would be too late.

A second filtered voice entered the conversation, immediately silencing the flurry of panicked voices.

“Oracle, belay that request. I’m thirty seconds out.”

As everything went dark and she collapsed into a heap, the voice spoke again but without the distortion of the voice filter.

“Hang on, Blondie. I’m almost there.”

-----------------------------------------------

The bed she woke up in was insanely comfortable and that’s how she knew it wasn’t hers.

Hers was alright, of course- but it was a little too soft, a bit too lumpy.

But the bed she was in was the perfect combination of soft and supportive, with the added bonus of having super soft sheets.

She opened her eyes and the room was dark, but there was enough light from the streetlamp outside the window for her to get a good look around. The room was large, but cozy. A few nice pieces of furniture were spread throughout- a dresser near the door, two matching nightstands and a large chest at the end of the bed.

There was a small lamp on each of the nightstands and she leaned to the one closest to her. She shut her eyes to prepare herself for a too-bright bulb, but was surprised when the soft glow barely went past the edge of the nightstand. There was a small machine on the table, and a clear tube going from the machine down to the floor before it traveled back up the bed to her face. She touched her fingers to her cheek and felt the cannula under her nose.

A portable oxygen concentrator.

The encounter with Joker toxin.

Jason came and got her.

Wait.

This was Jason’s place?

She crawled to the other side of the bed and turned on the other lamp. With the added light, she took another look around the room and could see bits of Jason all around her. The headboard behind her was chock full of books, both hard-bound and paperback. She ran her fingers along the spines and read the titles. He had a great mix of the classics, science-fiction, and espionage thrillers, with some true-crime thrown in for good measure. There was another bookcase under the window and from what she could tell, it was full of textbooks. Organic chemistry, forensic psychology, microbiology, and criminal psychology, among others.

The décor was simple, but tasteful. The sheets were grey while the duvet was a deep shade of navy, and the extra blanket at the foot of the bed was a shade of red not unlike the color of his helmet. That thought made her laugh, which made her chest hurt and she coughed. It felt nothing like earlier, thank god, but it was loud enough it got someone’s attention.

Jason knocked quietly on the door, more to announce his presence than to ask for permission to enter, and he opened it, the concern on his face easy to see even in the semi-darkness.

“You okay?”

Stephanie nodded and cleared her throat, wincing as she did.

“I think so. I didn’t actually cough up a lung, so that’s a plus. Right?”

He nodded and approached the bed, stopping by the end and crossing his arms, still watching her.

“Any trouble breathing or swallowing?”

She shook her head and brought her knees up.

“Any hallucinations, fits of laughter or nausea?”

A chill rushed down her spine and she clutched a pillow to her chest, remembering the sound of her laughter and how awful it was. Her arms were covered with goosebumps and she shook her head again.

“No.”

He sat down on the end of the bed, still watching her closely. Gone was the Red Hood outfit- he was wearing charcoal-gray sweats and a dark green Henley, and his wet hair was beginning to curl as it dried. She must have slept longer than she thought, if he’d already come back from patrol and showered. But before he could ask her anything else about what happened earlier, she beat him to it.

“So this is your place, huh?”

Jason nodded and glanced around.

“It’s nice.”

She couldn’t help but notice how much he relaxed at her comment.

“Thanks.”

“Where are we?”

He looked down at this hands, then out the window, avoiding her face.

“Just north of the Knights stadium, about a mile from where I found you.”

She recognized the neighborhood and waited long enough to catch Jason’s gaze to give him a knowing smile. He’d picked a place that was centrally located between Leslie’s clinic, Amusement Mile, and the Narrows- the areas of the city that didn’t ever seem to have enough of a police presence despite the crime rates. Red Hood was frequently seen patrolling in those neighborhoods, more so than the “nicer” parts of the city.

In other words, right smack in the middle of where he was needed most.

“I didn’t realize they had such nice places in Otisburg,” she said hoarsely, wincing at the soreness in her throat.

He shrugged.

“It’s an up and coming neighborhood. At least that’s what they told me when I bought the place.”

Her eyes widened and she sat forward, chucking the pillow at him.

“No way! The apartment, or the building?”

He sighed and pretended to be insulted, throwing the pillow back at her. She dodged it and it hit the headboard with a quiet plop.

“Bruce is the one who buys entire buildings. I only wanted a place where I could have some peace and quiet.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand.

“Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. No one knows this place exists, except you and Roy.”

“Cross my heart.”

Seemingly content with her answer, they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes until the pain in her chest was too much to ignore any longer. She removed the cannula.

“You have any Tylenol or something? It hurts just to breathe.”

Jason climbed off the bed, his bare feet hitting the floor with barely a sound, and he held out a hand to her.

“I’ve got something better. Last time I got dosed, Leslie gave me some medication you take in a nebulizer. Helps with the pain and the inflammation.”

She grabbed his hand and let him pull her out of bed, still feeling a little woozy. He put a gentle hand against the middle of her back as they walked down the hallway. Something smelled absolutely heavenly as they got closer to the kitchen and there was a small pot on the stove. 

“Go find a spot on the couch,” Jason said over his shoulder. “I’ll get the medication ready and bring you something to eat.”

“What’d you make?”

“Chicken rice soup.”

Jason’s living room was just as cozy as his bedroom. There was a couch with a chaise lounge on one side and on ottoman in front of the other section, both of which were covered in a soft tan fabric. He’d clearly been sitting on the lounge part because he there was a pillow, blanket and a tablet there, so she left that spot alone and nudged the ottoman closer so she could reach it. The coughing spell began as she sat down.

“Here,” he said, appearing behind her and handing her a small plastic device with a mask on it attached to a battery pack. “Flip that switch and hold it to your face. Breathe through your nose.”

She watched as a mist fogged up the mask before doing as instructed. Her eyes closed as it began to work, and she felt his presence behind her. She tilted her head back and glanced up at him, smiling in relief. He smiled affectionately in return, squeezing her shoulder as he leaned on the back of the couch.

“The anti-toxin stops the effects of the gas, but it still damages the lining of your lungs. Give it a week or two, and you should be fine.”

Steph nodded and slouched until she was comfortably settled in. A blanket appeared to her right and she grabbed it, nearly disappearing under it apart from her head and the hand holding the nebulizer. When the machine turned itself off, Jason returned with two mugs of soup, nodding to the couch next to her. She put the device down and accepted the mug, though she gave him a weird look.

“Too easy to spill if it’s in a bowl.”

He lowered himself onto the couch, being careful not to spill anything, and pulled his own blanket around him. They both ate in silence, watching a maniac in a hockey mask chase after the occupants of a summer camp. She finished her soup and started to sit up when Jason held out his hand. She bit her lip to stifle her protest, already feeling like she was imposing. Being waited on was something she’d never get used to.

“You don’t have to-“

“Steph, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

She handed him the mug and he disappeared once more before gracefully leaping over the back of the couch and settling into his spot. She felt herself smile tiredly when he turned and grinned at her.

They lapsed into another easy silence. And as much as she enjoyed cheesy horror movies, she just couldn’t focus enough to watch it. Her thoughts were stuck on what happened earlier and how scared she’d been. 

Jason was staring at the TV, but his attention was focused on Stephanie. When it was clear she was lost in her head, he adjusted the volume and turned to look at her.

“Wanna talk about it?”

His tone was casual, despite the seriousness of the question, and she knew he’d actually listen if she wanted to talk. But after everything that happened, she wanted to shove into the deep recesses of her brain for the night and try to forget about it. She wasn’t looking forward to the nightmares she’d likely have later.

“Not really, no.”

He nodded and looked back at the screen, not saying a word.

A few minutes later the movie went to commercial and Stephanie turned to him, still hiding under the blanket.

“Sorry I ruined your night,” she said softly. “But I’m glad you were there to save me.”

He propped himself up on an elbow and stared at her, shaking his head and smiling ruefully.

“First of all, you didn’t need saving. You fought it long enough to give yourself the injection, which is something several of us have failed to do. You did everything right. And two,” he said, waiting until she looked at him to continue. When she did, his tone softened, as did his eyes. “You haven’t ruined anything. I stayed here after I knew you were okay because I wanted to. Despite the fact we all dress up on a nightly basis, I don’t actually care for Halloween all that much.”

She looked past him out the window for a moment, processing what he’d just told her. The longer she remained quiet, though, the more concerned he got.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His question pulled her out of her head, and she tore her gaze away from the window. She’d been expecting a lecture about the myriad of things that went wrong earlier, not a pep talk. Granted, she would have told whoever lectured her to piss off, but still. She’d prepared for a fight and now that she wasn’t going to get one, she had no idea what to say.

Jason hauled himself upright and shook his head. 

“You were expecting me to give you a hard time about tonight, weren’t you?”

She nodded, her face turning red.

“Thought so.” He reached over and rested a warm hand on her shoulder. “The ‘this is how you fucked up’ speech isn’t something you’ll ever get from me, alright? We carry around enough guilt as it is, we don’t need anyone else adding to that.” He squeezed her shoulder and she looked at up. “We good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

He nodded once and reached for the remote.

“Good. We misfit Robins have to stick together. Now, let’s find something better than this crap. Netflix has to have something scarier than Jason Voorhees.”

He flicked through his account and they argued for a little while until they settled on a movie about a zombie outbreak on a train. Something Jason said earlier was still on her mind and she had to know.

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“What could you possibly have against Halloween?”

[mizmahlia]

This is way more than six sentences, but what can I say? I’m excited to be working on this again.

When Tim came in, they were sitting in the den with only the soft glow of the Christmas tree and the light of the fire, the flames making the shadows dance on the wall. He was breathless and pale, clutching his phone in his right hand. Their mellow night off to spend time together as a family turned tense in an instant. He spoke to everyone in the room, but was looking only at Jason.

“You might want to turn on the news.”

Jason glanced up at him, frowning at the uncertainty in his voice, while Bruce grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, finding GCN.

“In breaking news this evening, we’ve received several unconfirmed reports the Joker has died in an undisclosed long-term care facility in New England. Jack Ryder joins us from Arkham Island with more-“

The screen went black and Bruce set the remote down on the coffee table. He and Alfred shared a quick look before all eyes went to Jason.

Jason closed his eyes, knowing everyone was looking at him. But as he searched deep within himself for a reaction, all he found was an empty, hollow space.

“Jason? Are you okay?”

A few seconds later he opened his eyes and glanced at Dick, who was now perched on the edge of the couch. His breath caught at the look in Dick’s eyes, knowing Dick was hoping he could finally find some kind of peace.

The fact he didn’t really feel anything at all overwhelmed him with guilt, and he had to fight the urge to bolt. He could feel everyone else’s eyes on him now, waiting with bated breath for some kind of reaction. Finally, he plastered on the biggest smile he could muster and pushed everything else down.

“I guess it’s a Christmas miracle, Charlie Brown.”

There was a moment of silence before Dick’s bark of surprised laughter, and the tension in the room dissipated somewhat. Jason fought to keep smiling as Dick knelt down in front of him and enveloped him in a crushing hug, leaning his forehead wearily against Dick’s shoulder. Bruce’s hand rubbed gentle circles across the middle of his back, and he could hear Tim and Damian discussing ways to try and confirm the news, to get their own irrefutable proof Joker was gone.

He understood why they were all happy, and he wanted to feel the same; but there was something deep within him, a tiny voice in the back of his mind telling him peace was out of his reach because what Joker did to him was too awful, too traumatic to heal from.

Bruce’s voice brought him back to reality for a moment, away from the emotional cliff he was close to tumbling over.

“Let’s give Jason some space. I’m sure we all want to celebrate, but we should give him some time for this to sink in.”

Alfred ushered Tim, Damian and Dick out of the den, suggesting they find something to snack on before they started the movie, leaving Bruce sitting next to Jason.

“This might seem like a silly question, Jaylad, but are you okay?”

Jason stared at the floor, looking at nothing in particular, and shrugged.

“I have no idea. Harley mentioned he’d never wake up, but-“ He sighed and shook his head. “I’ve never thought about what life would be like if and when this ever happened.”

Bruce slid off the couch and crouched in front of him, gently putting a hand on each of Jason’s knees until he looked up at him.

“Whatever you’re feeling, just know that it’s understandable. So is not feeling anything.”

Jason met Bruce’s gaze, feeling some of the guilt and despair melt away at the understanding in Bruce’s eyes.

“Thanks, B.”

Bruce nodded, but didn’t move.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jason immediately shook his head, causing tears he’d been holding in to slide down his cheeks.

“No, I don’t. I kind of just want to be alone.”

Bruce frowned, and against his better judgement, he gave in and stood, reaching down to help Jason to his feet.

“I know we don’t always see eye to eye, and that I can’t possibly understand what you might be feeling, but I’m always willing to listen. You know that, right?”

Jason took Bruce’s hand and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet, unable to meet Bruce’s concerned gaze.

“Yeah, I know.”

He brushed past Bruce and slowly made his way toward the stairs. Bruce followed behind, watching closely from the bottom of the staircase as Jason went to his room.

[mizmahlia]

Sing Me to Sleep

Summary: According to Merriam-Webster, delirium is defined as “an acute mental disturbance characterized by confused thinking and disrupted attention usually accompanied by disordered speech and hallucinations”.

In this case, it happens when Batman gets dosed with Scarecrow’s first (and crudest) batch of fear toxin, not long after taking in an orphaned child.

Inspired by Lullabye (Goodnight My Angel) by Billy Joel. If you’ve never heard it, I highly recommend giving it a listen during the last scene with Bruce and Dick.

Note: The songs Martha sings are from Mary Poppins and The Music Man. The one Alfred sings is called “I See the Moon”, as sung by Nancy Sinatra.

AO3 

In the months after Thomas and Martha were killed, there was only one way Alfred could get Bruce to fall asleep when the nightmares frightened him enough he refused to go back to bed.

He sang.

At first, he did it purely for shock value. But it worked.

Martha sang to Bruce all the time; she sang along with the radio when they were in the car, and while she helped Alfred make dinner. While she was a talented singer, her best performances were always at bedtime. Bruce usually stalled while getting ready for bed; on a good night, it took the better part of an hour for him to get from wherever he was in the manor up to his bedroom.

Alfred once told Martha the reason Bruce caused such a commotion at bedtime was to get her to sing. She thought about it a moment, tilting her head in the thoughtful way she did when she pretended to mull something over, before giving him a conspiratorial wink.

“Perhaps. But he doesn’t know that we know that, now, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Then let’s keep it that way.”

“As you wish,” he replied. She walked to the top of the grand staircase and paused. He knew what was coming next and retreated to the shadows to watch Bruce come running. Martha closed her eyes and began to sing.

“Stay awake, don't rest your head. Don't lie down upon your bed.”

Her voice carried beautifully through the entrance hall and soon enough, Bruce’s shoes clambered loudly down the hallway into the room, and he skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“Is it bedtime already?”

She nodded and continued to sing, holding her hand out as she waited for him.

“Though the world is fast asleep, though your pillow soft and deep, you’re not as sleepy as you seem.”

Before he took off up the stairs, Bruce looked up at her in awe, beaming. It was the one smile Alfred thought he’d never see again after they were gone- the completely genuine, bright as the morning sun, contagious smile.

She wrapped her arm around him and steered him toward his bedroom, his steps growing clumsy along the way. A few minutes later, standing outside the door in the shadows, Alfred listened as she sang his personal favorite.

“Goodnight, my someone, goodnight, my love. Sleep tight, my someone, sleep tight, my love.”

Not wanting to intrude anymore than he already had, he smiled and went to check on Thomas before retiring for the evening.

He remembered that night as if it were last night and thought back on it often. For weeks he resisted the urge to sing to Bruce, not wanting to make it seem he was trying to replace Martha. But on the fourth consecutive night of Bruce refusing to even try to sleep, he gave up.

“I see the moon, the moon sees me. Dance in the leaves of the old oak tree.”

Bruce stopped playing under the blankets and froze. Moments later he slowly pushed the blankets back and poked his head out, his hair standing every which way. Alfred had to fight not to laugh as he finished another line.

“Alfred? What song is that?”

“It’s a song from when I was a child.”

Bruce stared at him, his cheeks turning pink in the lamplight.

“It’s different,” he said softly. “But.. I like it.”

“Shall I continue?”

Bruce nodded and settled back against the pillow, nuzzling his stuffed bear with his nose.

“Yes, please.”

So he did.

Alfred sighed and leaned into the high-backed computer chair as he watched Batman’s cowl feed. He was sprinting through the streets of Otisburg in pursuit of Jonathan Crane. Usually, this pursuit only lasted ten or fifteen minutes; but this time, Crane had a bit of a head start by way of a much-too-convenient power outage on Arkham Island.

He sat forward as Bruce rounded a dark corner seconds after Crane had, a bad feeling creeping up his spine. Sure enough, Crane was waiting around the corner and sprayed some kind of aerosol in Bruce’s face. It temporarily fogged the lenses of the cowl before Bruce swiped his hand across them. Alfred opened the software for the mass spectrometer on another screen and reactivated his comm link to Bruce.

“Batman, Agent A here. Are you alright?”

He could hear Bruce panting on the other end and watched as his vitals went berserk. Bruce’s pulse and respiration skyrocketed, and his core temperature increased as well.

“Batman. Do you copy? Are you alright?”

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he felt light-headed. He exhaled slowly to keep his voice calm.

“Don’t know. He sprayed me with something. I feel… strange.”

Alfred keyed up the Batmobile controls and sent it to Bruce’s location.

“I’m sending the car for you. I expect you to get in it when it arrives. I’ll have the medical bay ready.”

Bruce didn’t answer and Alfred waited. The cowl feed was still active. Bruce’s head was turning every which way, making Alfred dizzy as he tried to keep up.

“Batman?”

“Affirmative, Agent A.” His reply was clipped and breathless.

Alfred left the earpiece in and went to prep the medical bay, but not before checking the baby monitor next to his cold cup of tea by the computer.

When Bruce first brought Dick home, he was intimidated by the size of the manor, but insisted he sleep in his own room like the big kid he swore he was. Bruce knew how nervous Dick was, but instead of making a fuss over it, he asked Dick if he could use a video baby monitor to keep in contact. Like a walkie-talkie, but with a screen. Dick was immediately on board with the idea and after Bruce and Alfred tucked him in each night, Dick used the baby monitor to tell Bruce goodnight one more time.

Thankfully, Dick was still sound asleep, and he went about gathering supplies. He had no idea what they were up against, but between he two of them, they usually figured it out.

When the car coasted to a stop twenty minutes later, it took Bruce another five minutes to get out. Alfred monitored his vitals the entire ride, noting how his respiration and heartrate were still elevated, but his temperature was down, and the cowl feed had been disabled. When he climbed out, the cowl was pushed back, and Alfred immediately noticed the tight lines around his mouth and eyes.

Alfred approached carefully and held a hand out in front of him for Bruce to grasp if he needed it.

“Status report.”

Bruce’s glassy eyes took a moment to focus on him, and when they did, they widened in fear and he recoiled.

“No, stay back! I’ll hurt you!”

Alfred stopped and drew his hand back.

“Master Bruce, you won’t hurt me. Can you follow me so I can check you for injuries?”

Bruce seemed to latch onto the logic in Alfred’s question and nodded, slinking over to a gurney and sitting on it. Alfred kept his distance as Bruce removed the armor and stripped to the waist. The exposed skin the cowl didn’t cover was red and blotchy, but otherwise, there wasn’t a mark on him. He was shaking and crossed his arms over his chest.

Alfred moved slowly and only grabbed what was necessary before turning to Bruce.

“Are you cold, Master Bruce?”

He shook his head and refused to look at Alfred.

“Well, that’s good. But I’ll make this quick so you don’t catch cold down here.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Bruce scanned every inch of the med bay and the cave around them. If he had to guess, Bruce was looking for exits and threats. He looked like a cornered animal. Alfred donned a pair of gloves and make a show of holding up the lab supplies in front of Bruce.

“I’m going to draw some blood. Is that okay?”

Again, Bruce nodded but said nothing.

He drew three vials and taped a piece of gauze over Bruce’s elbow. As soon as Alfred backed away, Bruce climbed off the gurney and made a beeline for the showers. He left the lights off and Alfred could hear his boots squeak on the tile floor.

Once the blood tests were running, he went to find Bruce. He swiped a blanket from a cabinet along the way and made sure his footfalls were heavy enough that Bruce could hear him coming.

“Don’t come in here,” Bruce called out. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Alfred removed the penlight from his jacket and stopped in the doorway.

“I have a blanket for you, Master Bruce. And I’d like to take one last look at you.”

He switched the penlight on and aimed it at the corner of the shower room, spotting Bruce’s boots sticking out of the last cubical. His legs were drawn up to his chest to cram as much of his enormous frame as possible into the small space.

“Stay back,” he pleaded.

Alfred stopped three feet away, far enough to be out of Bruce’s reach from his position in the shower, and tossed him the blanket.

“As you wish, sir. Can I just watch you for a moment? I’m trying to figure out what was in that concoction, and the mass spectrometer will take another half hour or so.”

Bruce’s eyes were half-open and fixed on the wall in front of him. His movements were sluggish and clumsy, and if he were a normal person, he likely wouldn’t even notice Alfred was there. And if it weren’t for Batman’s boots and trousers, Alfred would guess he escaped from a mental health facility. 

“Bruce, are you afraid right now?”

He got a barely perceptible nod. The dazed look and near-catatonia also concerned him.

“Can you tell me what you’re afraid of?”

Bruce shook his head and somehow curled in on himself further.

Alfred sat down, wincing at the cold tile beneath him.

“Then I’ll sit here with you until your test results are in.”

He took it as a good sign when Bruce reached for the blanket and wrapped himself in it, though he was still shaking and staring at something that Alfred couldn’t see. He couldn’t tolerate seeing Bruce so afraid and being unable to do anything, so he did the one thing he thought would help.

“I see the moon, the moon sees me. Dance in the leaves of the old oak tree.”

He thought he saw Bruce relax just a little and took that as his cue to keep singing.

Two hours and three inoculations later, Bruce wearily climbed the stairs toward the manor. Alfred was one step behind him with another syringe, the baby monitor and a printout from the spectrometer.

Once they were settled in the kitchen, Alfred set out to make some tea and get Bruce to eat something before he went to bed. As Alfred worked, Bruce studied the printout and frowned.

“A toxin designed to provoke a fear response. And an aerosol, no less.”

“Indeed. I’m surprised that it worked, considering the preservatives and fillers in it. They should have rendered it inert.”

Bruce set the printout aside and stared into the baby monitor, a smile tugging at his lips as Dick rolled over. Alfred placed a mug of chamomile tea in front of Bruce.

“Quick thinking on developing a vaccine,” Bruce said. He wrapped his hands around the mug and sighed. “What were my symptoms, anyway? I don’t remember much between getting sprayed and waking up in the shower.”

Alfred set a plate of sandwiches between them and took a seat, sipping his own tea.

“A mild rash on your face, severe paranoia and hypoactive delirium. You were nearly catatonic at one point.”

“Did I say what I was afraid of?”

“I’m afraid not. I asked, but you refused, though you did say you didn’t want to hurt me.”

Bruce stared at the sandwich in his hand and sighed before taking a bite.

“I’ll have to study the compound and watch the cowl feed recording to try and figure it out. I’ll need to be better prepared next time.”

Alfred hummed in agreement and they sat in silence as they finished eating. Just as Alfred stood to clear the table, they heard Dick’s sleepy voice from the monitor. Alfred glanced at his watch. It was three-thirty.

“Bruce? I—I had a nightmare.”

Bruce dropped the rest of his third sandwich and grabbed the monitor.

“I’ll be right there, chum. Turn on the lamp if you need to.”

He reached for his plate and empty mug, but Alfred laid a gentle hand on his wrist.

“I’ll get this, sir. Go check on young Master Dick.”

Once the dishes were washed and put away Alfred went to check on Bruce one more time before he retired for the night. The soft glow of Dick’s bedside lamp spilled into the hallway and when he was close enough, he peered in and leaned against the doorway.

Bruce was sitting on Dick’s bed, one leg tucked beneath him, marching Dick’s stuffed elephant toy Sitka across the blankets. Dick’s sleepy giggle made them both smile.

“Is the nightmare gone?” Bruce asked. “Think you can try to sleep again?”

Dick held his hands out and Bruce tickled his face with Sitka’s trunk.

“It’s almost go—” Dick yawned and Bruce stifled one of his own. “It’s almost gone.”

“What can I do to chase it away for good?”

Dick ran his fingers slowly along Sitka’s back, like he was afraid to answer.

“It’s silly, you don’t have to.”

Bruce leaned forward and waited until Dick looked up at him.

“Whatever it is, if it will help? I’ll try it.”

“My mom used to sing to me.”

“You know, my mom did the same for me,” Bruce said. “Heck, even Alfred has sung me to sleep.”

“No way!” Dick laughed. “Alfred sang to you when you were my age?”

Bruce glanced at Alfred from the corner of his eye. His voice took on a tenderness he rarely used anymore.

“It was more recent than you’d think,” Bruce replied.

Dick yawned again and Bruce reached to tuck the blankets around him.

“Okay, Dickie. One song and then it’s good night. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Bruce leaned over and kissed Dick’s forehead.

“Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes. And save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me. I think you know what I've been trying to say.”

Alfred wrapped his arms around himself, feeling like he was intruding on such a tender moment, though he wouldn’t miss it for anything.

“I promised I would never leave you, then you should always know. Wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away.”

Bruce continued to sing, but he reached and turned the lamp off. That left only Dick’s nightlight. Even in that dim light, Alfred recognized the smile Bruce was now wearing as he watched Dick fall asleep.

It was the smile from so long ago, the one he thought he’d never see again. Alfred felt a tear run down his cheek and made no move to wipe it away as Bruce finished the song and met his gaze.

“Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on. They never die- that's how you and I will be.”

[mizmahlia]

I am damaged at best (like you’ve already figured out)

Summary: Between Bruce's insane training drills and his on-the-job experience, Jason could get out of just about any kind of restraint. Cuffs, rope, zip ties, packing twine, electrical cord- you name it. But after he’s rescued, it's proven to be much harder to break free from Slade's hold over him and he's not sure if he can get away this time.

He’s not sure if he even wants to, if returning to a team that hates him is his only option.

-----------------------------------------------

This is the Titans version of Jason Todd. Post 2x05.

TW: Be warned- this chapter contains some heavy stuff such as suicidal ideation, mentions of physical and psychological torture, and other serious mental health concerns. If you've seen the episode, you've seen how emotionally wrecked and traumatized Jason is, so tread carefully.

AO3

Jason takes pride in his ability to hide how he really feels, only allowing the world to see what it wants to so he can go on pretending he’s fine. If acting the part of a scared child got food on the table, then that’s exactly what he did. In front of a social worker, it’s the kicked-puppy act. With teachers, it’s striking the balance between being a smartass and actually using the intelligence they both know he has.

With Bruce, it’s acknowledging he’s a bit of a troublemaker, while staying just this side of the brutality/justice line. As long as his homework is done and he follows the rules of the Batcave, he can patrol. He bullshitted his way through Bruce’s psychological exam, manipulating his answers enough to appear like he was being honest, but he really only said what he needed to pass it. If Bruce noticed, he never said anything.

Jason never thinks too much about the possibility Bruce saw right through his act, but chose not to do anything about it. If he spends too much time obsessing over that, he spirals down too far, and it takes a week or more for him to claw his way back up to the surface, on his way back to ‘barely-functioning’.

Slade, however, is different.

In the time he’s been down here, Jason’s insults and threats have had no effect. And since his escape attempt earlier, Slade tightened the restraints and tied him to a chair, so he had no way to gather any momentum to break free. He’s stuck until Slade moves him to another location, which seems likely at this point. Jason is out of his element and Bruce never prepared him for dealing with a situation like this. Being in uncharted territory, he goes back to what he knows, what he’s familiar with. 

He leans into the restraints, getting as close to Slade as possible.

“Fuck you, you pretentious asshole. Hey, look at me. I’m not scared of you.”

He gets no reaction from Slade as he simply stares back at Jason, holding a whetstone and his sword. He sits at the table to Jason’s left and begins sharpening the blade with long, slow strokes. He doesn’t say a word for a few minutes, leaving Jason in tense silence.

Jason isn’t sure if it’s the sleep deprivation, the throb of the wound in his thigh where his tracker was previously embedded, or the fact Slade hasn’t laid a hand on him since the phone call to Dick and the others hours ago. Granted, he's grateful for that because while he can certainly take a beating, Slade hits harder than most. But he can feel terror creeping into his head and down the back of his neck when he realizes he has no idea what’s going to happen. He listens to Slade begin to talk about Dick, picking up on the way rage bleeds into Slade’s voice as he does so, telling Jason he’s being used for bait.

When Slade stops talking and waits for a smartass retort from Jason, he gets nothing, and Jason knows he’s smiling behind the mask. Slade leaves the room and cuts the lights, leaving him in total darkness to think about the possibilities of what’s coming. Jason knows there’s a meeting at three a.m., but he has no way of knowing what time it is. It could be twenty minutes or five hours until the meet.

He can’t take the ‘wait and see’ approach that Dick is so fond of- he doesn’t have the time or patience. Bruce operates much the same way and it drives Jason crazy. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree where Dick and Bruce are concerned, but Jason knows he’s different. He’s the rotten, worm-filled apple on the diseased tree that’s on top of the burn pile.

After all- you gotta get rid of the disease before it spreads to the rest of the orchard.

That thought is pushed to the back of his mind along with everything else he can’t let himself dwell on right now.

After waiting a few minutes to see if Slade is coming back, he goes to work on the restraints. He pops his other thumb out of joint and tries to wriggle his hand out of his glove, but it won’t budge. The cuffs are loose enough to prevent a loss of circulation, but tight enough he can’t slide his hand out. Short of having someone actually amputate his thumb, he isn’t getting out of them.

He sighs in defeat and leans his head back against the rock wall behind him. The silence in the room is complete enough he swears he can hear his own heartbeat, and he starts tapping his boot on the floor. It’s the bass line to his favorite song, one he listens to when he needs a distraction from the dumpster fire his life has seemingly turned into.

The tapping gets faster as he realizes Batman isn’t coming this time, and neither is Dick. The Titans likely aren’t, either. Not like he expects they would- it’s not as if they like him all that much. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. It appears there’s one thing he and Slade agree on.

He’s on his own.

Like he’s always been.

It shouldn’t comfort him, but it does. Just a little bit.

 --------------------------------------------------------

He doesn’t remember how he got to the top of a skyscraper or how Slade sedated him, but he sure as hell feels the backhanded slap as Slade tries to wake him up. He winces before spewing a string of colorful profanity, letting Slade know exactly what he thinks of him, before Slade slaps him again. There’s blood on his lip this time and Jason spits it to the floor, keenly aware Slade isn’t hitting as hard as he had previously. He says something Jason can’t hear over the wind and disappears back inside, leaving Jason alone with his thoughts again.

It’s a place he tries hard not to be, inside his own head. It’s a dark place full of blame and anger and guilt. And no matter what he does or how hard he tries to keep them at bay, the darkest of his thoughts always manage to bubble to the surface and threaten to pull him back under. It used to be his own voice, telling himself he’s nothing more than a harbinger of violence, bad luck and chaos- that the world is better off without him. And it’s hard to ignore the voice in your head telling you how much of a failure you are when the voice sounds just like you.

But now the voice sounds like Slade and it’s telling him all the same things, but with an added twist. Now he hears Slade’s voice telling him he made the mistake of trusting Dick and believing himself to be some kind of hero, when he’s nothing more than a punching bag- something for Slade to beat on and torture just to get someone else’s attention. A pleasant distraction.

He pleads with the voice to stop, to leave him alone, but his voice is lost on the wind and he continues to replay the awful things Slade said to him earlier.

“You’re Robin two-point-oh, and you’re just as replaceable as Dick was. Batman will find a third one, but this time, let’s hope he finds someone who can actually do the job.”

“How does it feel to know I’m only doing this to you to get someone else’s attention? To be used for spite?”

“Do any of them know how much you hate yourself? Do they even care?”

“I know Gotham is a fucked up city, but for it to have spit you out... that’s impressive.”

Before he realizes it, the tears are falling and his legs threaten to give out from under him. He shakes his head and tells himself to focus. But as he gets a hand free, the shutter opens and he sees Dick and Kori fighting with Slade, which sends his heart soaring.

They came. They’re here to save him.

Then Slade raises the hand with the detonator in it and presses the button. Dick screams and Jason drops, reaching out to grab the ledge. There’s a hand out the window and Dick’s panicked face appears, and for the briefest of moments, Dick has him. But their grip isn’t strong enough and Jason falls.

He has no choice but to look at Dick as he falls, the wind whipping through his hair and drowning out the sound of Dick’s scream. He knows he’s also screaming, but it’s an automatic thing- his body’s response to fear that he can’t control. But underneath the terror he feels, he senses relief, too.

It’s better this way, he thinks as the space grows between them. No more feeling alone, like he didn’t belong anywhere. No more having to pretend he was fine.

And no more having to fight Slade’s voice in his head.

--------------------------------------------------------

The first day back, he gets hugs from Hank and Dawn, with Hank giving him a high-five for talking shit to Deathstroke. Gar gives him the biggest hug known to man, apologizing repeatedly in Jason’s ear and telling him he’s glad they found him. Rachel’s reaction is hard to read, as is Donna’s, but Kori seems genuinely happy to see him.

Rose stands back and gives him a sarcastic salute, clapping her hands, but the smirk she wears softens enough to tell him she’s glad he’s back.

Dick hardly leaves his side and Jason has to tell him to give him some space, something he’s never had to say to anyone before.

It’s a nice feeling, for people to want him around.

But it doesn’t last.

It never does.

--------------------------------------------------------

A few days later and Jason begins to think Conner catching him was a mistake.

He can’t sleep. He doesn’t eat. And he can’t even carry on a conversation without losing grip on what’s real and what’s only in his head. He’s taken to pushing on his bruised ribs to remind him the pain is real and Slade’s voice isn’t. Most of his time is spent in front of the window in his room, replaying his fall over and over again.

After their impromptu dance “lesson”, Rose tells him he’s the only one worth talking to and that sparks something in Jason’s chest- hope that he was supposed to survive after all, that people really do care about him. It’s something he holds onto with everything he has. It’s the only thing he’s had to lean into, to fight for.

He’s starting to think he and Rose could be really good friends, or perhaps more down the line. The constant worry he’ll infect her with whatever curse he’s got is always present in the back of his mind, but when he hears her say he’s fucked up, but that she understands? Jason almost cries in relief. The smile he wears is genuine- the first one in a long time.

Then she finds the record, her brother’s record- a dead brother Jason doesn’t even know she had, and shit hits the fan. Once again, the fingers point to him first, just like Slade said they would.

Next it’s Rachel.

Then Hank, Dawn, and Donna.

His world begins to implode for what feels like the twelfth time in less than a week, and he doesn’t even bother trying to quiet Slade’s voice this time.

When he manages to speak loudly enough, the words tumble out before he even has the chance to consider how it sounds.

“You people are insane. I’d rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes. You think everything is my fault.”

In the midst of their arguing, Jason disappears and decides not to take the elevator. Lately, the only place that brings him any comfort at all is the roof. Being up that high might get rid of the awful feeling that he’s falling, and he wishes he would have thought of it sooner.

As he climbs the stairs, he rubs the red, raw skin at his wrists from the restraints. His thumbs are both bruised from when he dislocated them, and he absently wonders if that’s why he couldn’t grab Dick’s hand tight enough that night. In his attempts to free himself, he nearly died because he couldn’t hold on.

But he’s tired of holding on, and if what happened downstairs is any indication, he shouldn’t bother.

The sun is bright up on the roof and he knows he should feel warm on his skin, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t felt warm in forever, not really. There’s a moment of hesitation and he wonders if he should barricade the door so no one can get up here. In the end, he decides they probably don’t know he’s gone, anyway, or are glad he left.

He gets closer to the edge and looks down again at his wrists, running his fingers over the tender skin, one question he hasn’t been able to answer rushing to the forefront.

If he really got away from Slade, if the shackles really are gone, then why does he still feel so trapped?

[mizmahlia]

Speak not a whispered word of them

Summary: The Court of Owls has decided the Gray Son isn't strong enough to lead them after finding out Damian Wayne is actually Damian Wayne al Ghul. And no one will come between them and their prize, not even the Demon's Head himself.

With Damian, Dick, Bruce, Jason and Tim.

AO3

Warning: Talons are scary and it takes some violent behavior to stop them.

For weeks, Bruce watched over Gotham with a sense of unease he hadn’t felt in ages.

Crime rates were low, which could be expected in Gotham when December rolled around. It was simply too cold for crime, save for people like Mister Freeze. But even he remained where he was- in a cell in Arkham. The rest of the occupants of Arkham were also content to stay in their cells, as were those at Blackgate. And the troublemakers who weren’t currently incarcerated were behaving themselves, for the most part.

No, crime rates weren’t just low.

They were nonexistent.

It was unlike anything he’d seen before and Bruce hated it.

While working their shift on Watchtower duty, Oliver told him to not to look a gift horse in the mouth and to savor the downtime. After all- in Gotham, shit hit the fan on a regular basis. Going a week or two without having to put yourself in harm’s way is usually something people enjoy, not obsess over. Clark and Diana both said something similar, and Clark reassured him he was on standby in case something happened.

Though Bruce would never, ever admit it, he was relieved to hear Clark say it.

For once, he was at a total loss to try and justify why he felt the way he did. There was nothing he could find to support the idea that somewhere, just out of his periphery, something was lurking and so far, there was nothing he could do to prepare for it.

It terrified him.

It was the week before Christmas when his paranoia was rewarded.

He was in a board meeting at Wayne Enterprises when his secretary Sarah gently tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a note.

You have a visitor. He said it’s about your son.

Bruce leaned to his right, whispering to Lucius he had to step out for a moment. Lucius didn’t question it, instead nodding in acknowledgement and turning back to the presentation. He followed his secretary out into the hallway toward the lobby.

“I’m so sorry, mister Wayne. But he insisted I come find you, and to be honest, he’s really intimidating. Half the staff took an early lunch because he made them so uneasy.”

Bruce frowned as they got to the end of the hallway.

“Did he give you his name?”

Sarah shook her head and stepped to the side to let him pass.

“No, but I asked. He said you would understand when you saw him.”

He paused before he turned the corner and took a moment to really look at Sarah. She shivered like she was cold, and her arms were crossed over her chest. And her normally calm, kind demeanor had shifted to nervousness and fear.

“Why don’t you go get some coffee, then? I’ll take care of this. Thank you.”

He gave her his most reassuring smile and waited until she was in the break room before he rounded the corner.

Despite the fact he was dressed in an expensive wool suit with a matching overcoat, and not his usual green robes, he would recognize Ra’s al Ghul anywhere. The moment Bruce stepped into the lobby Ra’s turned.

He didn’t bother hiding his anger at Ra’s’ presence in Gotham or his shock at his appearance. The expensive tailoring hid his emaciated frame from those who didn’t know him, but the sharpness in his cheekbones couldn’t be disguised. But before Bruce could say a word, Ra’s focused the full intensity of his gaze on Bruce, green eyes full of urgency.

“Detective,” Ra’s said softly, even though there was no one in the lobby. “We need to talk.”

Bruce stood firm, feet shoulder-width apart and his hands in his pants pockets.

“Not until I get some answers. What’s this about?”

Ra’s arched an eyebrow at the defiance and stiffened.

“My grandson.”

 “Wait. So we’re supposed to go off intel from Ra’s al Ghul, someone who’s repeatedly tried to kill Damian, and work with him? What the hell, Bruce?”

Dick paced back and forth behind him, anger coming off him in waves. For a moment, Bruce regretted telling him anything. These last few weeks had worn his nerves down to nothing and it didn’t take much to leave him feeling frazzled, so Dick’s outburst wasn’t helping. But he was just as protective over Damian as Bruce was, so it made sense Dick would be pissed off.

Bruce usually preached keeping emotions out of a fight, but in this case, it would help keep Dick focused on the situation at hand.

“I’m not happy with it, either, Dick. But it’s been over two years since Ra’s has made an attempt to hurt any of us, and more than that since he’s tried anything with Damian.”

Dick stopped pacing and stared at him before narrowing his eyes.

“This has something to do with why you’ve been acting so weird lately.”

Bruce paused only a moment and continued to work, but Dick noticed the hesitation.

“Look, I get it,” he said, lowering his voice. He leaned against the console next to Bruce as he typed. “And I agree with you- something feels off about Gotham these last few weeks. But the Court of Owls? They haven’t been a problem, not since we dismantled the Parliament- “

Bruce stopped typing and leaned back in his chair.

“We can’t take the chance, Dick. I know it’s Ra’s, but the man has always been direct in his intentions, especially with Damian. We have to look into this.”

Dick’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. He knew Bruce was right, but damn if he didn’t hate their source of intel.

“Alright. So what’s the plan?”

From the top of the stairs, Damian listened intently. He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but when he heard father say his grandfather was in town, he knew he had to find out what was going on.

He was Robin, after all. And Robin helps keep Gotham safe, no matter what.

 The next evening, the Batwing dropped them over Coventry, and they met Ra’s on the ground. Snow continued to fall, adding to the six inches already on the ground. It swirled when the wind picked up and reduced visibility to almost zero. Most of Gotham was off the streets and the near-silence was unsettling.

A city of millions had become a ghost town.

Despite Dick’s protest an hour before, both he and Bruce wore their winterized suits, which offered more protection against the cold and allowed them heavier armor. With the Court of Owls, no chances could be taken.

As planned, he was waiting in an alley around the corner from the drop site. Dressed in full League regalia, he still posed an intimidating figure, even if he wasn’t in the best of health. Ra’s turned and nodded at Dick before shifting his attention to Bruce.

“Detective.”

“Ra’s. Where is your guard?”

He glanced behind him before he answered.

“I sent them to Talia to make sure she and Damian get out of Gotham safely.”

Bruce studied him but remained silent. Dick looked at Bruce, then at Ra’s.

“Are you sure you can handle this? You don’t exactly look like yourself.”

Ra’s didn’t stoop to using conventional body language, so he didn’t roll his eyes. But even in the dark, his gaze was piercing, and any normal person would have cowered beneath it. He looked at Bruce first, waiting for him to speak up and when he didn’t, he shook his head in disappointment.

“Such a lack of respect from your partner, Detective. I’ve had men executed for less than that.”

Before Dick could reply, Bruce held up a hand.

“If your intel is accurate, then their plan should be underway. It shouldn’t take long for them to notice us.”

“Indeed,” Ra’s replied and drew his sword. “They already have.”

He nodded toward the other end of the alley behind Bruce. A long figure stood motionless between them and the street, armor and steel glinting beneath the streetlight. It didn’t move, even when it spoke.

“We’re here for the boy,” it said. It raised a single hand and beckoned with it. “So give him to me, and you’ll survive the night.”

Dick stepped to Bruce’s right, with Ra’s standing on his left, flanking him.

“The last time I fought a Talon, things didn’t end well for him,” Bruce said. “You don’t want to find out what that felt like.”

It tilted its head to one side and if it were capable of smiling, it probably was. There wasn’t much that made the hair on Bruce’s neck stand on end, but that idea certainly did.

“You aren’t fighting one Talon tonight, Batman. You’re fighting them all.”

Dick looked up to see Talons lining the rooftops on either side of the alley, with more blocking their exit behind them. He drew his escrima sticks at the same time Ra’s raised his sword.

“And so are you,” Bruce growled.

Red Robin dropped to the street behind the first Talon, and the Red Hood casually strode up behind those who blocked their retreat.

“These the assholes who want to take our brother?” Jason asked, drawing both pistols from his thigh holsters.

“I think they are,” Tim replied. His bo staff was at the ready.

“Then let’s do something about it,” Dick called out.

Simultaneously, four smoke cannisters were tossed, filling the area with thick smoke as the fighting began. The clash spilled out into the street, giving both sides more room to maneuver. But no matter how much room they had, Talons still swarmed like piranhas and were quick to head off any attempts at a group attack. They kept Jason and Tim from teaming up, and separated Bruce and Dick. Without the ability to pair up and watch each other’s backs, injuries began to mount.

“B,” Dick panted, deflecting a hand with sharp claws away from his neck, “please tell me he’s out of the city by now.”

Bruce lashed out to his right, his elbow crushing the face of a Talon as it leapt over a fallen comrade. It hit the ground and laid there for a moment before rearranging its face and climbing to its feet.

“Not yet, no.”

They heard a pained grunt and looked down the street to see three of them try to overtake Jason. One sank its claws into the gap in Jason’s armor between his neck and shoulder, while another ripped the guns from his hands. He dropped to his knees before ripping a knife from his calf and slicing the hands off two of the three Talons.

“Not to be a downer, but I’m out of ammo. It barely slowed them down.”

Bruce heard a wheeze in Jason’s voice that he was certain meant some kind of chest injury. Before he could answer, they all heard Talia’s frantic voice in their earpieces. He watched one to Tim’s left drive its claws into his thigh before Tim could shake it off.

“Bruce, he’s not here. Damian’s gone. I repeat- Damian is gone.”

From behind them, Ra’s roared and with what little superhuman speed he had left, began aiming for the heads of any Talon near him. He made his way toward Bruce, kicking heads out of his way as he walked.

“Detective, you need to go find him. We’ll try and hold them off, but- “

Dick’s scream pierced the near-silence and they turned, watching in vain as Talons broke his arm and drove blades into his upper back. He fought them off with his good arm, but as soon as he did, another pounced and brought him down.

Bruce kicked and punched his way through the swarm, pure rage and adrenaline providing the strength. He ripped both of them off Dick and helped Dick to his feet. He set him down next to Jason, who was tending to Tim’s leg.

“Batman, we can’t hold them off much longer,” Jason said quietly. “You need to go find Damian.”

Bruce looked down at three of his boys, each bleeding and broken, ready to continue fighting if it meant Damian made it out alive. He was ready to agree when Tim’s eyes widened and he pointed upward. Bruce turned to see the first Talon leap from the rooftop, sword in his hand. But before he could make contact, a red, yellow and green blur swung in from the side and knocked him to the street, landing on his chest and holding a sword to this throat.

“Hands off my family, Talon. I won’t ask again.”

Ra’s fought his way over and between the three of them, they beat back the wave of Talons who were still able to fight. But despite their efforts, Talons were still cropping up from the shadows.

Damian leaped, twisted, sliced and hacked his way through a group of them when they made their way toward Dick, Jason and Tim. To their credit, they were still able to fight, but not without sustaining further injury. Damian barely made it in time to stop one from shoving its claws through Tim’s chest.

“Robin! Behind you!” Tim cried, tossing him one half of his broken bo staff. Damian caught it and spun, gasping as it drove its knife straight for his chest. Ra’s intervened before it had the chance and the blade pierced his armor just above his heart. He hit the ground and Damian swung his sword, making sure it stayed there.

Ra’s had landed on his back and gripped Damian’s ankle tightly, forcing him to look down.

“Damian, you need to get out of here before they send more. They won’t stop until they take you.”

He glanced across the street to see Bruce take down the last of them before wading through the snow and Talon corpses. Even in the snow, Damian could see the relief on his face and let himself smile.

“Father, I- “

They all watched Bruce lurch forward and fall to his knees in the middle of the street. There were three blades in his back and another in the back of his right leg. A lone Talon appeared from the alley where the fight began and stalked toward him, ready to finish him off.

“NO!” Damian cried.

He wrenched his leg free from Ra’s’ grasp and sprinted toward Bruce. He inserted himself between Bruce and the Talon, holding his sword up.

“If you touch him again, it will be the last thing you do.”

The Talon immediately stopped and slid the knife back in a sheath against its leg. It tilted its head and studied Damian as if it were waiting for further instruction.

“Come on, you coward! What are you waiting f- “

There was a quiet hiss from his right and Damian turned toward it. A snare wrapped itself around his legs and it retracted hard, yanking his feet out from under him. He hit the street and the air was knocked from his lungs, but he began thrashing as the Talon grabbed his upper arms in a vice-like grip. He kicked as hard as he could and he broke several of the Talon’s ribs in the process, but it held tight.

A moment later he sucked in a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his back from the fall.

“Father! Don’t let them take me. Please, don’t let them- “

A gag was shoved in his mouth and the Talon finished tying his hands down and behind his back. He continued to kick and yell anyway, trying desperately to free himself.

The last thing he saw as they rounded a corner was his father trying to crawl after him, screaming his name, while his brothers lay bleeding on the sidewalk.

[mizmahlia]

Master List

Pretty much everything I’ve written in the last eight years, all in one place. :)

Bruce Wayne/Batman

Long Distance Call (AO3)

Dick Grayson/Nightwing

Angst Prompt #14 - What about mine? (AO3)

Angst Prompt #17 - You’ll die. (AO3)

Headcanon - Dick buys Jason birthday presents (AO3)

Angst Prompt #20 - Just talk to me! (AO3)

“It just hurts” prompt with Damian

“Don’t hold back” prompt with Damian (AO3)

Jason Todd/Red Hood

Until I Have Nothing Left (On AO3)

Headcanon/prompt- An interesting ‘what-if’ - Bruce’s cowl footage (AO3)

Headcanon- Lazarus Pit side effects

Angst Prompt #5 - You thought I cared. (AO3)

The Doctor Is In

AU oneshot, pre-Arkham Knight

Untitled WIP snippet

Prompt - Jason plays softball (AO3)

Angsty Dialog Prompt #8 - What, you think I care?

Angsty Dialog Prompt #18 - You broke me. (AO3)

Jason, Meet John Constantine (AO3)

Arkham Knight equipment test vs Robin

Earning respect prompt with Talia al Ghul

Tim Drake/Red Robin/Robin

Batman sentence starter #7 - Scream. (AO3)

Headcanon - Stealing Tim’s capes (AO3)

Angsty Dialog Prompt #6 - You have no idea who I am. (AO3)

Duct tape and superglue (AO3)

Damian Wayne/Robin

Headcanon - Part 2 of ‘What If' (AO3)

Headcanon - Stealing Damian’s capes (AO3)

Here By Me

Morning Surprises  Rooftop Sundaes

Bruce comforting Damian

General Batfam

Christmas at the Manor

Stealing Bruce’s capes

Titus the Caretaker (AO3)

#15  “I’d kill for a coffee…literally.”

#31 “I haven’t slept in ages.”

#64  “Here, take my blanket.”

#85  “I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor.”

#100  “You can only suffer through my whining for so long until you get up and make me a sandwich.”

Dick and Tim bonding over the game Sardines

Dick and Jason bonding over sutures

Alfred motivating Bruce

Tim & Damian team up - Batfam Stocking Exchange

Snowstorms & Sled Races - Batfam Stocking Exchange

Notes from Dr. Pennyworth

Like autumn leaves, they fall - Whumptober 2019

Individual Whumptober 2019 Prompts

Shaky hands

Explosion

Delirium

Human shield

Gunpoint

Dragged away

Isolation

Stab wound

Shackled

Unconscious

Roy Harper

Beach prompt (Reader insert)

Young Justice

Angst prompt #2 (Roy)

A Bird Without a Song

A Handy Distraction

A First Time for Everything

A Playground Perspective

Being Robin

Change of Engagement

Coming Full Circle

Down & Almost Out

Have a Little Faith!

Loving the Skin You’re In

Missing Wally  

Mixing Business with Pleasure

——————————————————————————–

Other Fandoms

Mortal Kombat (a new one for me)

“How long you been practicing that one?” prompt- Johnny & Cassie

Marvel/MCU

#16 - Steve & Darcy - “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Remembering

BBC Sherlock

It Hurts to Pretend

Christmas at 221B Baker Street

An Angel & A Doctor - WhoLock

Doctor Who

An Angel & A Doctor - WhoLock

She’ll Always Be Doctor Donna

Rose calls Nine in the TARDIS

Castle

Nurturing is Natural

Supernatural

Something Wicked This Way Comes

John Doe #17

Salvage What’s Left (prompt) - reader insert

[mizmahlia]

From the shadows, she brings light

Summary: The last thing Jason should be doing is fighting after being injured in a dust-up on a job with Roy and Kori. But the thing about Batkids is, when family is on the line? They don’t care.

AO3 

Jason hadn’t meant to stumble into Bruce’s business, but as luck would have it, that’s exactly what happened.

He was only in town to check in with several of his paid informants and recover for a few days after the latest job with Roy and Kori. The job went a bit sideways and he and Roy were a little worse for wear, but it was nothing that some ibuprofen and a few nights’ sleep in his own bed couldn’t fix. He lost track of how many ribs he’d bruised over the years, but if he had to guess, his answer would be north of three dozen.

The small tear in one of the muscles in his rotator cuff, however, was another story. As long as he wasn’t doing any heavy lifting, that would heal on its own in a couple of months.

So imagine his surprise when he came across a brawl on his way back from the grocery store, one involving Batman and a dozen members of Black Mask’s merry band of morons. They were in the lobby of Gotham First National Bank across the street and Jason watched as Bruce took down two men who’d raised shotguns in his direction, two perfectly aimed batarangs embedding themselves deep into the biceps of both men. The guns fell to the floor and Bruce carried on dealing with the other men who were still conscious.

Jason willed his feet to get moving again, but his gut feeling kept him planted where he stood.

Not your problem, Jason. He’s a grown-up and can handle himself.

One of the goons tumbled through the plate glass window and landed on the sidewalk, groaning before he fell unconscious.

See? He’s only got what- six men left?

He knew Bruce hadn’t seen him yet, and he turned to continue walking home when a white panel van turned the corner, rubber squealing on asphalt. He ducked into the entryway to the post office and stood in the shadows, watching. Four men got out, two of them carrying a heavy box between them.

“Hurry up, Sal! We gotta get this inside. Grab the detonator and follow us. The guys have Batman busy.”

Jason narrowed his eyes as he watched the first two carry the explosive device into the bank, setting it in the middle of the lobby. Idiots three and four followed right behind with the detonator cord and switch.

“C’mon, B. Turn around and catch these guys before they set it up,” he muttered. Bruce was still tied up with four or five men across the lobby, though they were taking longer and longer to get back up after he’d knocked them down. Ten years ago, this fight would have ended before Jason even got there. But now? Now things took a little longer.

He heard the beep of the timer being switched on. His jaw clenched and a knot formed in his stomach immediately.

He instantly made up his mind and set down his bag of groceries. There was a spare domino in the lining of his civilian jacket and he never left his apartment unarmed, so while he wasn’t necessarily battle ready? He had the basics and could hold his own. He chambered a round in his .45, fixed the domino over his eyes and stalked across the street.

The men with the explosive didn’t hear him approach and with the electricity out, they didn’t see him, either. He cracked one of them across the back of the head with the butt of his gun and when another turned to throw a punch, Jason caught the arm and twisted. He fell to the floor with a shriek, cradling his broken arm, and that’s what got Batman’s attention.

Bruce turned and when he saw Jason standing there, he tried to hide his surprise, giving Jason a tight nod and gesturing to the vault with his head. Jason reciprocated and nodded toward the explosive device, watching Bruce turn on his heel and sprint toward the vault in the back. Jason knelt next to the device and looked for a way to disarm it. He holstered his gun and sighed to calm himself down, tracing the wires from the explosive to the detonator. The tangle of wires and switches he saw meant one thing.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Whoever these idiots were, they had someone incredibly intelligent help them construct the bomb. The circuits were collapsible, and if he tampered with any of them, it would go off and kill anyone left in the bank. There were three minutes left on the timer and no sign of Bruce, though he could hear the fight even from the lobby.

He’d give him two minutes, max, before he went back and hauled Bruce out himself.

Jason focused on dragging the unconscious men outside and across the street, securing them to light posts and parking meters with zip ties. Once the lobby was clear and the timer was down to a minute and forty-five seconds, he jogged back into the bank.

“Bats? C’mon, old man. We’ve gotta get out of here.”

There was nothing but silence and Jason felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. By his count, they had less than ninety seconds now.

He rounded a corner and the vault came into view, and with it, he saw Batman lying on the floor. There was a broken office chair next to him and the cowl had a nice crack along the back of it. He jogged down the hall and rolled Bruce over, wincing at the bruise along his jaw. He was out cold and nothing Jason could do would wake him up.

Under normal circumstances, he would have simply picked Bruce up and hauled him out of the bank in a firemen’s carry, but with his injured ribs and shoulder, there was no way in hell he’d be able to heft all of Bruce’s 220 pound frame, plus another thirty pounds of armor and equipment, up off the floor.

As quickly as he could, he ripped the cape off Bruce’s back and rolled him onto the leather side of it. The smooth side that faced inward would slide easily across the floor.

Jason held his breath and dragged him back down the hall and out into the lobby. The timer was down to thirty seconds and he started to panic. He wasn’t going fast enough to get them clear. Even if he left Bruce behind, he likely still wouldn’t get out in time.

The edges of his vision began to darken, and his hands went numb as the panic attack started. He kept dragging Bruce across the lobby, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as the effort tore muscle fiber even further. It gave way with a loud pop and Jason cried out, collapsing in a heap twenty feet from the door.

Twenty seconds.

“FUCK!” he screamed.

He did his best to cover Bruce’s head and torso with his own body, hoping he could take the majority of the blast. Jason tucked his face into Bruce’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut.

Not again notagainnotagain…

He yelped and bolted upright when a small hand tapped his shoulder.

“Brother. Let me help.”

Jason turned to see Cass, in full Black Bat regalia, crouched in front of him. He bit his tongue to stifle a sob as he nodded, crawling to his feet. With his good arm he helped Cass drag Bruce out of the bank and across the street as the timer hit ten seconds.

Cass drew a batarang from her belt, tapped a button and threw it into the bank. Jason frowned.

“What the hell was that for?”

He could tell Cass was smiling beneath her mask, and he turned to see the steel security shutters slam shut. Seconds later the bomb went off and the building shook, but the shutters contained most of the explosion.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” he muttered. He leaned against the building and tilted his head down, trying to catch his breath. He still held his arm against his torso.

“You’re hurt,” Cass said. He shrugged the uninjured shoulder.

“He’s hurt worse.”

Bruce groaned, but remained unconscious. Jason could hear sirens in the near distance and wanted to get the hell out of there before they arrived.

“No, stay. Come home with us.”

Jason shook his head softly and turned toward his safe house. The absolute last place he wanted to be right then was the Manor.

“No thanks, kiddo. Call the batmobile and get him home. I’ll be fine.”

Cass moved and stood between Jason and his exit, her hands on her hips, chin tilted defiantly.

“Wasn’t a request.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, knowing full-well she’d kick his ass six ways from Sunday if he tried anything, injured shoulder be damned.

“It’s not home for me.”

Cass reached forward and took Jason’s hand, squeezing hard.

“Can be, if you want it to. He needs you. We all do.”

Jason turned his head as the car came around the corner, stopping at the curb. She nodded her head and he helped her get Bruce into the car. She stood back as the door closed, pointing to the driver’s side.

“I’ll stay. You go. Meet you there.”

Jason folded himself into the driver’s seat, leaning back against the head rest. A weary smile stretched its way across his face and he sighed. His shoulder hurt like hell, but he and Bruce were both alive, thanks to Cass.

Even if she couldn’t have beaten him in a fight, he still wouldn’t ever be able to say no to his little sister.

When he finally got back to his safe house the next evening, there was a surprise waiting for him on his kitchen counter with a note on the paper bag. The childlike handwriting made Jason smile.

Not only had she saved his life and Bruce’s, she’d also brought him the bag of groceries he’d left behind.