#and i think for any third robin jason's death should be very much felt. the narrative killed him and now he haunts it

[martyrbat]

how would you change tim's character to make him ""better""

(in reference to this post (i think?))

ooh! this is a very interesting thing to ask and deserves an answer for when i can actually think on it more thoroughly but for now:

firstly, for the record, i fully agree with this post about how steph should been the third robin

but okay. i think a key element to any post!jason robin is actually exploring Bruce's grief and how its effecting him. i understand its a comic so they have to keep the action flowing instead of indulging entirely in the vast and deep topic of grief (unfortunately) but i think by actually acknowledging jasons death they can shape the narrative and have it be high stakes and a continuing arc!

bruce couldn't save his own son - how is he trusted to save someone else's? how is he going to save a city and stop evil when he couldn't for the person that mattered most? how he's once again fighting in hopes to prevent someone else from experiencing the same loss but it doesnt take away his pain.

especially with bruces complex to save everyone. anyone dies or has a tragedy occur to them and bruce blames himself every single time. he believes should of (and could of) done something - even if it was impossible. so tie that with how hes supposed to always be prepared, always save the day, always be that dark knight and hero? but failing to the extent that his own child is dead? how jason died hoping bruce would burst in there and save him and then died as a hero when he should of been living as a boy? him being responsible by introducing jason to thie vigilant lifestyle and how his memory lives on in everything bruce does.

show me that guilt! that insecurity and how he still loves jason!! this man hung onto the death of his parents this obsessively, itll be even worse for his child! i literally cannot stress this element enough, he needs to grieve. its gonna be messy and complex and difficult. he's never going to stop grieving to an extent, you never do.

NOW. onto tim (unfortunately). each robin has been a reflection of Bruce's characteristics and sides to its most extreme. if it has to be tim, personally ill go more for tim being more like bruce's detached side. countless nights staring at a screen or paperwork, not knowing social cues as well, having a tendency to isolate when overwhelmed or to avoid reality, paranoid. i think of this panel immediately:

[ID: Alfred scolding Tim after he punched Damian for falsely believing he was attacking Alfred. Alfred says, "He was stopping me from falling. The poor lad is afraid. He needs comfort... Not a fist in the face. It's all very well being blessed with fierce intelligence. But that doesn't mean a thing if it's not tempered by compassion, Timothy. Mr. Wayne knows that." END ID]

not careless, not heartless - to be a robin, you have to care and want to help people. but how you help and style is very different. his compassion being linked to 'the greater picture' vs jason who was so much for the actual people and individuals and "small details' that often get forgotten about in said general picture. jason focused on the brush strokes that were the people of gotham while tim would go for gotham as a whole. what would be the best long term effective? what would it take to reach it?

i think by making tim more logic based in his compassion and is a good way to challenge bruce in a way that all the robins have before. its how that dynamic works, there has to be chemistry and that balance.

let him see this kid as a reflection of why he cant deprive himself from his heart despite how much it hurts seeing another little boy running around in a yellow cape when it should be his little boy still. that it hurts because he had someone to hurt over. have bruce mourning and grieving and impacted by jason's death (canonly he was rougher as batman because of it/emotionally withdrawn more) while also scared shitless that this kid is going to be next and he'll be making another father go through the same lost hes going through

it also allows tim more room for character development and to have a distinct factor instead of his cherry picked perfect traits and 'flaws' from the others before him. its still robin but hes so different from jason and as a result bruce has to actually confront his feelings and how jason taught/reminded him that he cant forget the people while waiting around and planning for the perfect big picture. that without the people, who cares if the city is saved? it acknowledges jasons life and death and honours jason beyond a perserved costume:

[ID: Robin telling Jason he's gotten too emotionally involved with a case due to not picking up on obvious signs of their convict, Felipe, being on cocaine. The next panel is Batman and Robin on a stakeout. Batman's internal narration reads, "Over the next three days we have a dozen opportunities to bust Felipe holding. But we hold off. I want to take out a part of the Senior Garzonas' operation when Felipe takes his fall. Robin doesn't like this idea." Additional note is that because of this, Felipe had time to intimidated the woman he raped into killing herself. END ID]

i know a lot of this is about jason and bruce instead but you cant ignore him or pretend he didnt happen. jason's death is was what gave birth to tim's existence (and capitalism but yknow). its going to impact him and the robin dynamic forever. its going to change bruce forever because he didn't want another robin. he didnt want someone else's kid. he wanted his son who was six feet under

people talk how tim is the robin that chose to be robin and to involve himself instead of the circumstances causing it. go heavier into that. its why he clings to that title and is an asshole to damian - because he thinks without that mantel - hes nothing. have him insecure and obsessive over it. have the obvious distance between him and how bruce was with the robins before him because they were his actual sons. you can love and care about someone but not see them as family. ESPECIALLY with tim's parents - who did love him but were still neglectful and how that'll make him insecure/grow a complex.

have tim having to learn to trust others and how to be vulnerable but still struggle. have him learning to not isolate as much and snapping at others when he does. have the conflict of tim saying its a sacrifice to help the greater good. hell, have him lean more into the mad scientist and invention route even, he did cloned his best fucking friend. i dont care what, just give him SOME personality beyond batman's lapdog and always being so perfectly imperfect that his few 'flaws' are polished and excused.

[thebatfamfanatic]

Six Times He Met Her

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, guy taking advantage of a minor in first chap, mention of underage smut in fourth chap, making out?, violence, mentions of blood/injury, main character death, adult language, angst

A/N: First thing I’ve written on Tumblr!! Tell me if anybody likes it, or if I broke your heart. And yes, I know I’m evil.

1-

The first time he saw you was around 2:30 in the morning. Jason was squatting on the edge of a rooftop in Gotham, surveying the dark scenery below him.

Somehow, there was still plenty of traffic on the dirty streets, plenty of cars honking and driving around. Jason always wondered who the fuck needed to be somewhere at 2 am.

He fiddled with a loose seam on the Robin uniform he sported each night, hunting down the assholes of Gotham (pretty much 70% of the city) and putting them in jail, where they belonged.

At 16, Jason Todd technically should have been in bed, maintaining a healthy sleep schedule and doing some rich kid shit during the day. Of course, his adoptive (long story) father, Bruce Wayne, richest playboy in Gotham, employed him to be his little tweety bird sidekick at night, so here he was, at the rendezvous watching the streets. yay. A scream came from an alley nearby. Jason stood, stretched his legs, and leaped down from the roof onto the ground. He pinpointed the alleyway where the noise was coming from and raced into it. A girl, about his age, had been cornered by some bitch dude who thought he could take advantage of this girl. Not on Robin’s watch.

Before the girl could scream again, the guy was on the ground and Jason was helping her up. She shakily took the hand he offered her and looked him in the eye. Shit, she had gorgeous eyes. Jason froze for a second, lost in her beauty, before clearing in his throat.

“Hi. I’m Robin, uh, you probably knew that. Are you okay, ma’am?”

He hated the squeak that came out of his mouth. He sounded like a fucking 5 year old. The girl raised her eyebrow. She had recovered rather quickly. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m not some rich-ass royal whatever from Britain.” Jason liked this one. Sassy, but just so. He inquired where she lived, and she gave him the address. With his grappling hook at the ready, Jason pulled her closer to him. She jumped at the sudden closeness, but seemed to enjoy it. Maybe? He didn’t know shit about girls.

Jason shot the hook, propelling them up in the air, and landed on a rooftop. They continued this routine until he got in front of her house. It was still several seconds before he released her waist.

She started to walk towards her door, before stopping.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Jason blinked.

“I thought you were smart, Robin. Its my name, dumb ass.”

Then Y/N disappeared into her house. Jason stood there foolishly outside on her front lawn for a while, thinking about the girl he had just met. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he realized 10 minutes later that he had forgotten to ask about where her family was and everything.

Oh well. Bruce would be expecting him anyways. Jason shot his grappling hook and started home, still dazed from the encounter.

2-

The second time you guys met was two weeks later. Jason was just Jason Todd, a normal 10th grader living in the shadow of his (adopted) older brother Dick Grayson. Nobody paid much attention to him, and he didn’t really mind. Mostly Jason focused on getting A’s in class and then retreating into the library until Golden Boy’s after school clubs were over.

That is, until you walked in. It sounded as if you had just moved here, and for a minute, Jason felt a little sorry for you. I mean, Gotham wasn’t the greatest place to spend high school, or any grade, in his opinion.

You looked at your schedule from across the hall and then up at the locker next to him. For a second, your eyes met his and Jason was content. Lost in those brilliant colors. And then you looked away and started walking towards him. He realized just in time maybe he should stop leaning over your locker as you stopped next to him.

“Hi. Y/N. Just moved here. Looks like we’re locker neighbors.”

Jason was about to reply with “I know” but restrained himself. “Jason. Nice to meet you. Congrats on moving to this shitshow.”

He managed to not grin like an idiot as you laughed. The sound was music to his ears, like beautiful bells. God, he was being sappy.

“It’s not much of a shitshow when you’re here.” Ooh, she flirts too. Jason smirked as you opened your locker and dumped your stuff inside, pulling out the things you needed for your first class.

The first bell shrieked just as you closed your locker. “See you around, Jason.”

The small smile you gave him made his day, and he almost forgot to get to class. Yes, you were certainly one of a kind, and yes, Jason wanted you. The question was how to get to that point.

3-

You guys had a couple classes together, and frequently sat at the same table during lunch, so it wasn’t long before you were quick friends with Jason. However, the next notable time you met was a little while after he got your number.

Jason was laying on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr as he thought about ways to ask you out.

Y/N, would you grant me the honor of going out with me? No, too Romeo and Juliet.

Hey, want to grab ice cream? He had to make it clear what his intentions were. Then it wouldn’t be weird if he kissed you, right?

Oh, god, if he fucking kissed you….what would that be like? Before Jason could start fantasizing, his fingers were flying across the keyboard and he had sent a text to you. What did he do, what did he-

Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend. It seems like something you would enjoy.

Hm. That was actually pretty good. Where did he come up with that?

Jason had just started inspecting his fingers for some kind of sign of being possessed by smooth-with-girls-syndrome when you responded. He looked up and read it quickly.

Sure, I’d love that! Thanks for thinking of me ❤️

A heart. You had put a heart at the end of it. Did that mean you knew it was a date?

Jason sighed. He certainly hoped so.

4-

The weekend date went good. By the end of it, Jason was sure you knew it was a date. The second one passed, and then the third. The third one was when you hesitantly pecked him on the cheek. The fourth was when he kissed you actually. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was just enough for him to take you on a fourth date. An actual “will you go out with me on a date” kind of thing.

He took you to a restaurant in the fancy part of things. You two ate food that two broke 16 year olds technically shouldn’t have been able to afford, but Bruce helped Jason out.

Jason drove you home afterwards and discussed the topic of the upcoming summer during the car ride. What you were doing, where he was going. The entire time, Jason had butterflies in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to act. Was he messing it all up, or were you actually into him?

Once he parked in front of your house and walked you up to the stoop, you looked at him. He noticed you were biting your lip nervously, and god, why did he think that was so hot? “My parents aren’t home.” It was the softest Jason had ever heard you speak, but he knew what you meant. He smiled gently, and kissed you again. This one was destined to last longer, and before either of you realized it, you had opened your door and you were leading him to your bedroom.

That night was one neither of you would forget, and by the end of it, Jason had officially asked out successfully.

5-

You and Jason spent a lot of time together after that. You met his older brother, Dick (who was very happy for Jason, too happy in his opinion) and his dad, Bruce Wayne. Bruce was cool, but very busy all the time.

By two months, Jason still hadn’t told you his identity as Robin, and he was running out of excuses. One day, you confronted him, assuming he was cheating on you. He tried everything, but he had to go out on patrol.

Jason left that night assuming you were broken up. The entire patrol, he wasn’t himself. Truth was, he loved you so much he was afraid of losing you. That had become his greatest fear. It was that night everything went wrong.

6-

You were out taking a late night walk. Down by the pier, a cold wind was blowing, and as you walked past warehouse after warehouse, you pulled your coat tighter.

You were affected as well, and confused about where you and your boyfriend stood. Did you guys just breakup? Did he love you? Did–

A scream echoed from one of the warehouses. You turned, afraid of stepping closer but afraid of leaving the person. Eventually, your curiosity won over and you climbed up several crates to peer into the window.

What you saw inside almost made you scream yourself. Robin, the hero everybody talked about, lay defenseless and bloody on the ground as a tall man-the Joker- whacked him over and over again with a crowbar.

You gasped, wanting to help, but you knew that would be foolish. You would just get in the way for a minute. Tears started to form in your eyes as Robin weakly cried out from the pain. He looked so…helpless.

Joker relentlessly beat him with the crowbar, and Robin’s mask began to come off. You rubbed the tears from your eyes just as the mask fell to the ground.

“No.” was the only thing that you could muster. Jason lay on the ground in the bloody Robin suit. Jason fucking Todd. There was your boyfriend, being beaten to death by the asshole of all assholes. That was why he kept disappearing at night, because he fucking protected the city!

You were mad at yourself for being so cruel to Jason without knowing what was really going on. You barely paid attention as Batman and Nightwing suddenly burst through the windows.

Joker laughed, and said something you couldn’t hear from the outside. Probably taunting Batman as he watched his apprentice get beat to death.

A fight broke out, Batman lunging at Joker as Nightwing rushed to Jason, laying broken on the ground. You had just enough time to duck as a Batarang came swooping out of the hands of the Caped Crusader and straight through the window you were looking through.

It was then you realized how close Jason was to death, and what you needed to do. The window pricked your jacket as you jumped through it, but you didn’t care. Gymnastics back in 6th grade helped when you landed awkwardly. Nightwing spun around, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that was Dick, which meant Bruce was Batman.

However, none of that mattered when Jason was half dead in front of you. Nightwing- Dick- made no effort to stop you as you knelt in front of Jason. “No, no, no.” You cradled his head in your hands, trying hard not to recognize how limp his body was, and how his chest barely moved as he struggled to breathe.

Jason’s eyes were closed, tears running down his face silently. You were crying as well, mumbling curses and things that made no sense.

“Please, don’t be dead. Please, I-I love you.”

You watched Jason make no acknowledgement he could hear you, watched him breathe once more. His chest rose and never fell.

You screamed and buried your head in his costume, not caring about getting blood on your face. Dick pulled you away wordlessly, out of the warehouse. You barely registered that the warehouse exploded behind you a few seconds later.

Dick let you sob into his shoulder for what seemed like hours. Him and Bruce exchanged a short conversation, both riddled with grief.

Six times you and Jason had met, and that was the last.

[maxdark158]

Wooo! Writing shoes are back on and i’m actually really happy that i’m finally able to write again. This chapter is a bit shorter than normal but the next two are heavy hitters so it’s alright

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

Damian typically liked patrol.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop under the cover of the night was always exhilarating. Parkour just wasn’t the same without a belt of weapons and a costume, it was always a good way to burn of excess energy and get his mind focused.

Sure, it was his job to protect Gotham so he couldn’t be joking around, but he had to admit he liked the physical activity. He took his job seriously but taking it seriously didn’t mean it had to be unenjoyable.

Patrols were a time when he didn’t feel constrained, didn’t have to play a part or meet expectations. Nothing could ruin the cool gotham city nights on the rooftops.

Well, almost nothing.

After all, Damian’s father had the insane habit of adopting shitty ass kids for his crime fighting ring. Which meant Damian had this awful sickness called siblings. And the only thing that could ruin his nice patrols were the chortling of the other costumed idiots.

The worst nights were when all his brothers went.

Every. Single. Brother.

And what made it worse on top of that?

When they had something they felt they could tease him about. And when they were all teasing him about the same thing at the same time.

He was going to snap and stab one of them. His father might be anti murder but he didn’t have to know…

Damian shook his head. Bad thoughts.

“Thinking of your Angel?” Drake seemed to have a death wish and Damian was all about granting fucking wishes right now.

“Why do you all insist on being here?” he grumbled to himself. Because really they didn’t have to be. No bat signal, probably a few minor purse snatching crimes that one or two could handle easily. Why were they all in costume? Take the night off, stop fucking bothering him.

Annoying Fuck #1 snorted next to him when he said that, clearly not planning to be reasonable. “What, don’t like us teasing you about your Angel, demon spawn?” Todd snorted.

Damian ignored him. “Batman, shouldn’t he not be allowed to patrol with us?” His father could at least tell Todd to go home. Then when his back was turned he wouldn’t witness what happened to Dra-

“C’mon, I haven’t killed anyone and I want to hang out with my little bro! It’s not every day that Robin gets his first crush!”

Annoying Fuck #2, Drake, nearly slipped and fell from laughter.

Damian’s face warmed under his mask. “I do not have a crush you-“

“Focus on the job,” As always, father was on his side. “You can make fun of Robin later when we aren’t patrolling,” the traitorous bastard added.

Damian didn’t want to be the fucking blood son anymore.

He glared at Batman, scoffing to himself. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my own route.”

“I’ll go with you little bird!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

Because of fucking course Grayson suggested that. And of fucking course Damian momentarily forgot that Grayson was back and patrolling too, leaving him unprepared for the suggestion. Grayson’s uncharacteristic quietness was the worst thing at times.

Fucking hell why’d they all have to be here tonight?

Proving himself to truly be a traitor, his father nodded to Grayson’s suggestion. So Damian, previously wanting to get away with his brothers and dream of murdering them alone, now had a tagalong stopping such a fun activity.

At this rate he’d have frown lines at 23.

Damian went off, not waiting for Grayson. He knew he’d easily keep pace though, so the halfhearted dream of being fully alone wouldn’t happen.

“Robin, wait here a second.” Oh fuck no. That’s Grayson’s I want to talk voice. Too bad for him because Damian did not want to talk. At all. Especially about anything Grayson might want to talk about. Because Grayson wanted to talk about French Angels and Riddlers and Spars and-

“Robin, are you listening?”

“No, Nightwing, I’m not.” Damian stared at him and raised a brow. “What is there to talk about?”

Grayson huffed, annoyed. Good. Fucker deserves it after what he and the others put him through these last few days. “I was asking if you actually had a crush or not. They’re teasing you but I’ve been,” at WE all day, Damian knew, “busy all day. I can’t tell if they’re making something out of nothing and I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

There was a time when Damian would have said he wasn’t a horse. When he was younger, he didn’t know idioms and expressions that well. He considered saying it now, to try and change the subject, but he also knew Grayson didn’t let things go easily. Which wasn’t very good.

Because Damian wasn’t sure how to answer.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer it, even to himself. His weedkiller wouldn’t arrive for a few more fucking days, he wasn’t prepared for this.

Though maybe that in of itself showed the answer to Grayson’s question…

Fucking fuck fuck.

He shook himself from those thoughts. Grayson was waiting on an answer and he didn’t have time to get lost in thought about his Ang- Marinette. Marinette.

Damian settled for glaring at Grayson. “My private life is not any business of yours.”

Grayson snorted. “Suure little bird. She’s one of the French students, right?”

“Don’t say that right now,” he snapped. Not while they were in costume, not while they could be listened to. “Focus on the job, Nightwing.”

Grayson put his hands up in surrender. “Race you to Wayne Enterprises?”

Damian didn’t wait for an answer, jumping to the next roof and making his way as fast as he could. He was determined to beat his adopted brother’s sorry ass, not that he cared about winning. It wasn’t that he was competitive, he simply didn’t want to continue this discussion. That was all. That’s fucking it.

Grayson laughed behind him, and the race began.

-----

They were taking a break near the Batcave. No activity yet, but they stayed suited up incase that changed. The night was still young, after all.

Batman instructed them to meet there through the comms. Damian and Grayson, further from the cave, made it there last. Grayson luckily hadn’t brought up and other conversation during patrol, and Damian hoped that would hold ou-

The other two idiots were waiting like the fucking lunatics they are.

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Did the demon spawn tell you about his precious Angel?” Todd clearly decided that he would die in seven days by saying that, big dumb fucking grin on his face and hair messy from removing his dumbass helmet.

“What was her name again? Mary?” Drake knew her name and was just being a little bitch. Damian decided not to give him the fucking bait, going over to a place to sit-

“Marie something, French and I think with brown eyes?”

“They’re blue,” Damian bit out. Fuck, their stupidity had infected him, he spoke before thinking. Was there a cure? He doubted it as they were all still stupid and have been for years. Fucking fuck the last thing he needs is to be on their level of idiocy.

“Right, right,” Jason’s wolfish smug grin was showing exactly how much of a fucking bitch he planned to be. Damian wanted to kick his face in.

“Little bird was pretty tight lipped on patrol,” Grayson said lightly as if he didn’t just stab him in the back.

“It’d be rude to kiss and tell,” Damian was going to strangle Drake with his own two hands.

“I haven’t kissed her!” He snapped again. His face was very warm, did he get sunburned somehow?? “We’re friends you imbeciles!”

“Friends that hold hands,” Drake pointed out.

“And tour Gotham together, alone.” Todd shortened his life span even more.

“And invite each other over to their house, where they never invited anyone before, to eat lunch.”

“Look how red his face is!”

“Little bird probably even planned to buy her ice cream! That’s why they were there when the Riddler showed up!”

“I’ll bed demon spawn-“

Damian stormed out of the room. Blood was roaring in his ears and he needed to- he just. He fucking needed fucking out of here. Away from those fuckers. Or he’d actually follow through with his thinly veiled threats and he’d rather not get blood on his costume.

He hated siblings with a passion. If his father ever considered adopting again Damian would fill all of his shoes with centipedes and rip the third seam out of every pair of pants he owned.

I don’t have a crush on her. I don’t. She’s wonderful and amazing, an angel, but I don’t like Ang- Marinette like that. She’s a friend I made and that is all.

Damian grabbed some throwing knives for target practice. Not on his brothers this time. He wanted to clear his head without those fucks nearby.

He threw one. The aim was a bit off, and he frowned. His aim was impeccable, why was he off right now? Why is having a crush on Marinette a bad thing?

No. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think those fucking thoughts right now. He threw another, harder. It went deep into the target, still off by more than he was happy with. He growled lowly.

Ange- Marinette is pure and good and wonderful. I was raised by assassins and I can’t completely shake their ideals.

Another knife. Damian’s grip on them tightened. Why was he missing?

I’m a vigilante and Damian Wayne. I have blood on my hands and money to my name and she wants to make her fashion empire herself.

Damian got more knives. His frustration was growing with each thought. They kept coming back as he tried to dismiss them, kept distracting him from the target.

She’s a talented designer. She’s incredibly smart, knows how to fight. Beautiful, dark hair and freckles and blue eyes.

Another knife sailed through the air.

I’m not anything of note without my last name or costume. She’s amazing without needing either.

Damian walked over and began taking the knives off the targets. Maybe they were fucking with his aim. He should get rid of them. Focus on removing them. Stop thinking about her.

But no matter how many fucking times he tried to redirect his thoughts, they came back.

She doesn’t have to tolerate me.

She’s wonderful and innocent.

She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down.

I don’t want to hurt her.

Damian’s hands were on his face, pushing at his eyes and trying to stop the thoughts. His Ange- Marinette was wonderful he knew that, but he didn’t think the other things. Not constantly anyway, he helped people as Robin. He was his father’s blood son. He wasn’t unhappy with himself.

But that doesn’t mean I’m good enough for Marinette.

He grabbed a knife from the table he set them on and threw it blindly, as if throwing the thought itself out and away.

It hit the center perfectly.

Damian took a deep breath. Everything was fucking overwhelming right now, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But it seemed he’d have to.

Fucking fuck fuck.

Okay, okay. He… He might have a crush on Marinette.

Admitting it, oddly, seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. Damian took another deep breath.

He has a crush on Marinette. But he values her a friend very much. He isn’t going to do anything about his crush, because she deserves someone as amazing and angelic as her, and Damian isn’t that.

But that’s okay. Because he already loves being her friend. And his weedkiller isn’t too far away.

Damian calmed down. He threw some more knives. They were all on target.

She’ll always be my friend and Angel, if I have any say in it. I’ll make sure whoever she choses is worthy of her.

Damian had just thrown his third when his father spoke through their comms. “Poison Ivy sighting at Gotham Hotel.”

The six words turned Damian’s recently found peaceful mood onto its head. Ice water poured into his and filled his limbs with dread. His chest was tight, as if someone was grabbing at his lungs and they were closing. The weeds of worry were strangling him.

That’s my Angel’s hotel.

He had dropped her off there with Alfred just earlier that day. She was staying there with her class. They were supposed to be safe and protected, she was supposed to be safe and protected.

Damian’s knives hit the ground but his feet hit it faster as he ran through the cave to the exit. Ivy best not lay a finger on her or she would lose her entire arm.

His Angel wouldn’t get hurt, not if he could help it.

[stxleslyds]

I saw your rant about the Red Hood Movie lol (I agree DC keeps hurting my boy Jason) and you said something that interested me, you mentioned that you don’t like it when Jason is drawn with a bat symbol on him but why? Personally I feel that him wearing the bat symbol makes sense because he’s always tried to fit in with the family and it’s his way of connecting with them because he’s never had a family before. He gets along with his other siblings sometimes so I don’t think it’s ooc. I consider ‘bat symbol’ Jason an era of the past and am perfectly fine with his new Red Hood logo it looks sweet (but I wouldn’t be angry if he had the bat symbol on or not in the future). I’m curious what you’re thoughts are!

Hey there Anon, I have to be honest with you, your ask has been proven very difficult to answer, this here is my third draft. I have decided that instead of explaining my thoughts as I was trying to do in my previous drafts, I will now just link you to some of my past posts when I bring up certain points that make me think Jason should have never worn the bat-symbol on his chest.

Just a heads up, I am not a fan of Batman, the “Batfamily”, or Jason being dragged to any Bat-related content, I think it makes his character bland.

In order to make the answer clear to me as well as to anyone who reads this post, I will be separating my thoughts on how I think Jason’s relationship with Bruce has led me to think that he shouldn’t wear a bat-symbol or be involved with any Batman related content, and how Jason’s relationship with his brothers has led me to think that he isn’t part of any Batfamily or has ever been written as someone with true reasons to consider the others his brothers/allies/friends. I will separate each of those two groups in four different sections: pre-New 52, New 52, Rebirth and Infinite Frontier.

First though I would like to say that Jason as the Red Hood wearing a bat-symbol doesn’t make sense to me from the most basic of things, Jason’s vigilante name has nothing to do with Bats. Who wears bat-symbols? Batman, Batwoman, Batgirl, Batwing… All people that who have the “Bat” prefix on their names, nobody else wears a bat-symbol, Nightwing, Robin, Red Robin (Robin), none of them wear it, so why would Red Hood do it? It just makes zero sense. But anyway, that’s just me being annoying, I guess.

Jason and Bruce’s relationship.

First let’s go back in time to when Jason hadn’t died yet. You said that Jason wore the bat-symbol so he could connect with his family because Jason had never had that before, well, I see things differently, Jason had a family and that was his mother, the mother that he cared for when she was sick and the mother that he saw die to drugs after his father was put in jail. He had a family with her. And then he had a family with Bruce when he was Robin, but because Bruce started to neglect and not pay enough attention to him after he realized they weren’t seeing eye to eye in various things, Jason was pushed to act the way he did when he found that his birth mother was alive and “being manipulated by Joker”.

Jason’s father was abusive with his mother and didn’t care for Jason, Bruce wasn’t ready to be a father (even after Dick) and when Jason started to not want to follow his every rule Bruce neglected him, later his birth mother betrayed him and was one of the people involved in Jason’s death.

My point here is that Jason had a family with one person who died to drugs and then every other “family” that he found ended up betraying him or neglecting him. So, I don’t really think that Jason has much trust in the whole concept of “family” at least not when it comes to any of his experiences outside of Catherine Todd.

Now let’s move to the events of Under the Red Hood where Jason comes back to comics. Jason doesn’t hate Bruce then but he felt betrayed by him and felt like Batman’s whole crusade was not good anymore. Jason expressed several times in that book the fact that he didn’t believe Batman was good for Gotham and that he became a better version of Batman, the Red Hood.

Red Hood could do things that Batman didn’t dare do, he was better. So, why on earth would Jason wear a bat-symbol then? Well, Jason never wore a bat-symbol pre-New 52 when he was wearing his Red Hood suit. NEVER.

Jason didn’t care for Dick or Tim, he saw Dick as inferior to him because of Nightwing’s no killing ways and he was completely indifferent to Tim, his only interactions with him were when he cut his throat a little bit in Batman: Hush and when he called him “the pretender”.

So, Jason wasn’t looking for family he just wanted Bruce to kill Joker for him, and Bruce didn’t. When things got complicated and Jason realized that Bruce was too much of a coward he improvised, he told Batman that in order to stop him from killing the Joker Batman would have to shoot him (Jason). Batman didn’t use the gun, but he did save the Joker by throwing a batarang at Jason’s throat. When Joker detonated the explosives in the building they were in Bruce once again saved Joker from the rubble and didn’t look much for Jason.

That my dead Anon is the first time Bruce betrays Jason in such a big way that made me think that Jason would have never wanted to interact with Bruce in a good way. I will repeat it now, Bruce SAVED the Joker instead of letting Jason KILL the Joker.

After Under the Red Hood we got to see that Jason was alive and well in Green Arrow #69-72, where he made an appearance, there I can say with a 100% certainty that Jason hated both Batman and Bruce. He actively did things that pissed Bruce off and was searching for conflict with the man.

Jason and Bruce don’t interact much after all that because at some point Bruce “died” and that’s where Battle for the Cowl comes in. There is where we see one of the craziest Jason characterizations, there Jason took on the mantle of Batman because Gotham needed Batman (what? Red Hood was created to replace Batman!). But in that book Jason actually harmed both his brothers and left them for dead. In that book we also see a horrible message that Bruce left for Jason where Bruce told him that “Jason was broken and he tried to fix him” and that “Jason was my (Bruce’s) biggest failure”. I don’t know about you Anon, but if my father saw me that way, I would be packing my bags. And Jason didn’t look like he was looking to connect with his “family”.

After all that we don’t see Jason until Batman and Robin vol.1, where we see the weirdest characterization of Red Hood, this Red Hood hates Batman and would kill anyone just because. Jason had zero need to connect with his family there.

I just want to remind you here that Jason never wore a Batman symbol until here in his Red Hood suits, he only wore the symbol when he “was” Batman and that was OOC.

So now I welcome you to the New 52, where Jason wears a bat-symbol on his Red Hood suit for the first time. I HATE New 52 Jason Anon; you will find zero love for him here. That man wore a bat-symbol on his chest even though he didn’t believe in Batman’s ways and while he had this internal conflict about whether he hated or not Bruce. This Jason gave up a memory from his Robin years with Batman because he didn’t care enough to keep it, then he was seen acting like an ass towards Bruce and Barbara in the “Court of Owls” event.

But this whole shit show was written by Lobdell and one day he decided that Jason cared about what Bruce thought and let us know that maybe Jason secretly admired Bruce (in the post I will link here! I talk about what happened in those issues among other things). That story would be followed by Batman and Robin vol.2 #20, or what I like to call “the second time Bruce betrayed Jason in an even more painful way”. I am not going to explain what happened there, but I will like here! the post where I talked about what happened there and why I think that Jason should have never been on good terms with Bruce again from that moment on.

In that post I also discuss how much of an abusive and manipulative person and father, Bruce has and can be. He is a disgusting human being and Jason called him out about it but DC loves to write Bruce being abusive and then swiping it under the rug, Jason being on good terms with Bruce or wearing a bat-symbol on his chest is just horrifying after witnessing that issue, and it normalized Bruce’s abusive behaviour when issues later the same writer (Tomasi) had Jason interact with Bruce as if nothing had happened.

After that Jason was seen interacting with Bruce when the latter lost his memory, Jason even hugged Bruce there, it was OOC, and like I said it normalized Bruce’s abusive behaviour or at the very least made it look as something of no real importance.

Now, we are entering the Rebirth era of Bruce and Jason’s relationship, Jason was still wearing that fucking bat-symbol on his chest and this time around Jason even made a deal where he wouldn’t kill anyone while in Gotham (RHatO vol.1 #6), Lobdell even wrote them as being all buddy-buddy after the mess that was the New 52, absolutely disgusting.

Jason didn’t interact with Bruce in Rebirth that much, in fact the next time that Batman made a big appearance in the Red Hood book was in Red Hood and the Outlaws vol.2 #25, yeah, the issue where Batman beats the living shit out of Jason twice because he thought that Jason had killed Penguin. Father of the year, Jason wasn’t dying to be part of Bruce’s family, he was just brutally beat to be part of it. Bruce also ripped the vat-symbol off of Jason’s chest and told him that he didn’t “belong” with him or in Gotham any more. The AUDACITY of that bitch, can you believe? Jason belongs in Gotham as much if not more than Bruce.

Later when Red Hood and the Outlaws became Red Hood Outlaw, we saw Bruce and Jason interact again when Bruce informed Jason of Roy’s death, hugged him and also told him that he was still not allowed in Gotham, what a swell guy that Batman lad!

After that Batman went after Jason Todd when Jason came back to Gotham (without King Batman’s permission) and told the world that Jason Todd was alive and well and taking over Penguin’s Casino. Jason actually threatened Batman with revealing too much information about himself to the world (meaning, Jason threatened Bruce with revealing his secret identity) and that was that. Jason and Bruce only saw each other a few times when DC needed to make money with one of their boring ass events like Joker War and Bruce was shown “welcoming” Jason to Gotham in Red Hood Outlaw #51 or #52, I don’t remember but either way, it was absolutely hilarious and made zero sense. I am sorry, but after Bruce being a manipulative, abusive and all around a horrible person, I don’t feel anything except rage when they make them interact as if they cared for one another.

Shit hits the fan in Infinite Frontier with Urban Legends: Cheer, once again instead of explaining what happens there, I will just link you to the six posts I made about that mini. Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five and Part six.

Here I will only talk about the comeback of the bat-symbol in Jason’s life. Like you said Jason used (still has in some books) his own logo on his chest after Bruce ripped off the bat-symbol and told him to fuck off. That Red Hood logo was still done with the bat-symbol in mind and I just thought that it was ugly, like, there is no need for a logo if you are going to give him an ugly one along an even uglier suit. But that’s not what matter here, what matters is that the bat-symbol IS making a comeback because at the end of UL: Cheer, Bruce gives Jason a brand new (ugly) suit that has the bat-symbol again. That gift comes as a slap to the face after the disaster that was that book, from every point of view that mini should have not come out to the public. But it did because it forced the “Batfamily” down our throats through Bruce deciding to welcome Jason back to the “family” by giving him a suit with HIS logo on the Red Hood suit that kinda looks to me like Bruce saying “glad that I own you too as well”. The whole bat-symbol thing doesn’t sit right with him and sadly I don’t see it like a “Jason era of the past”, I see it like a metaphorical jail for Jason’s character, he is not free to be the character that he is supposed to be (a perfect opposite to Batman that shows that duality MUST exist in Gotham), and instead all we get is another Batman wannabe that is just as boring as the Batman himself.

Jason and his brother’s relationship.

The funny ha-ha thing with this is that we are not supposed to see Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian as four brothers (and to be honest I have never seen them four as brothers, as far as I see it, Jason hasn’t had a brother since before died). DC always makes it clear that Damian is Bruce’s only son so yeah, there is a big misunderstanding there within DC themselves, they have no problem with trying to sell us their absolutely nasty version of a family but at the same time they refuse to acknowledge any one except for Damian as Bruce’s son.

Even though I don’t necessarily believe that Jason sees his brothers as such I still call them that way because they were/are all Bruce’s children.

But this is not about Bruce so let me talk about Jason’s interactions with his brothers in the pre-New 52 era. So, as I said earlier in this post Jason didn’t think Dick was a big deal in UtRH because *just* like Batman Dick never killed and his way didn’t work or whatever (if only Jason knew what Dick did), and with Tim, Jason was mostly indifferent, he only hurt him a little bit in Batman: Hush (for the little bit that he took Clayface’s place) and then he referred to him as “the pretender”. Then we jump to the events of Teen Titans for Tim and Nightwing for Dick. In Teen Titans #29 Jason went to Titans Tower and beat the living hell out of Tim just because, now that thing was OOC and written by Geoff Johns but it existed and it further proves that DC writes this “family” through violence every time they can and then they just hope we forget it happened. With Dick, well, there was the Brothers in Blood arc where Jason dressed up as Nightwing and killed people in his name, he did it because he wanted to “bond” with Dick because he thought that Dick had killed Blockbuster, the whole arc was a mess and I can tell you this about it, Jason wanted to bond for all the wrong reasons and Dick was written as actually preferring Jason to be dead.

Then we jump right into Battle for the Cowl and even though (once again) this Jason was extremely OOC he did try to kill both Damian and Tim and fought Dick too, so, so far, I am not seeing Jason wanting to connect with his brothers, it was more like him going “be robin to my weird ass version of Batman or suffer!”. It was just weird.

Then there was Batman and Robin vol.1, where Jason’s Red Hood was just a blood thirsty and crazy and he didn’t want to be part of any family. I might not like Jason being written as part of the family but what this book had going on was not it.

Now, get ready because it is New 52 time again and this is messier than his relationship with Bruce in this timeline. The most recognizable relationship (or lack of thereof) was Jason and Dick. Lobdell just let us know one thing about what Jason thought of Dick and that was HATE. Jason HATED Dick, why, you ask? Oh, um, no one really knows, the only panel we were shown as “proof” of why Jason hated Dick was when Jason was acting like a little bitch when Dick was teaching him stuff during patrol (RHatO vol.1 #6). But, yes, Jason “had” (apparently) a good relationship with Tim. Yeah, no gracias, listen, Jason and Tim having brunch for two pages (RHatO vol.1 #8) isn’t making me believe that Jason cares or sees Tim in a good light, just throwing a brunch between them isn’t proof of them being the best of brothers but then again Lobdell loved giving Jason every character trait and relationship that Dick once had (examples: Tim, Roy and Kory). That brunch didn’t mean much because later on during the Death of the Family event Jason almost killed Tim (Teen Titans #16) to “save” his father from Joker (talk about bad writing). Jason and Damian had a very weird and forced “bonding” moment in that same event (you can include Damian to the relationships that Lobdell borrowed from Dick), all of the sudden Jason cared for Damian and he was acting all brotherly, because “they worked together” as different people in Batman Incorporated #4, this weird interaction between Jason and Damian (it can only be called weird because it looked out of place and you cannot change my mind, even Jason thinks it is weird in those panels) happened in RHatO vol.1 #17. In that same issue is where Jason tells Dick that he was trash because he didn’t want to say hi to Kory and kinda tells him that Dick “underestimates” Kory, listen, New Teen Titans isn’t a book that I enjoy reading most of the time but Lobdell needs to do some re-reading himself, Dick isn’t trash to Kory, Lobdell was trash to Kory. Anyway, at that point in time, Jason had a bad relationship with Dick, a secret admiration for Bruce, and a weird ass relationship with Tim and Damian.

Before we go on let me tell you what I think about the whole New 52 dynamic. Jason was used as a replacement of Dick Grayson. Dick was the one that had good relationships with his brothers and father, Jason up until the start of New 52 didn’t care for Tim or Damian, hated Bruce and kinda had a soft spot for Dick. In the New 52 the tables were turned. Jason’s relationship with Tim was never developed in paper, they for some reason were friends only when they stood together like they did in Robin War and Batman and Robin Eternal, there was never development or a reason as to why they “were in good terms”, they just *were*. The whole Jason and Damian thing didn’t last long because Damian died and then the whole mess of Batman and Robin #20 happened with Bruce.

Ahh, Grayson #12, the time when Jason and Tim’s last braincell died, they threw so much shit Dick’s way and for nothing. I will forever be mad at this, they really thought that Dick of all people faked his death, and because Bruce was conveniently amnesiac nobody dared say “hey, wasn’t it Bruce the one that told us that Dick was dead?”, seems to me like New 52 Jason and Tim can go be friends with that one braincell all by themselves. This is not family; this is people teaming up with whoever so DC can sell another weird comic event. Also at that time Damian was alive and Jason couldn’t have cared less about him being there (maybe it was because Jason was there when Damian was resurrected? Who knows?).

And now we jump to Rebirth because I hate the New 52. Tim was nowhere to be seen. Jason just forgot Tim existed and it wasn’t until the Red Hood Outlaw era in which we saw Jason interact with Damian again. What we did see, was a reconciliation between Jason and Dick, Jason was written as acting completely different in RHatO Annual #1, Jason respected Dick and his work and also said that Dick “had been a better brother than he had given him credit for”. Then Jason appeared once in Nightwing and they talked about Dick’s new girlfriend. And that was that for a long while.

As I said, during the RHO era Jason and Damian shared a couple of issues in the Teen Titans run, I have talked about these issues before in two posts (Post 1 and Post 2) but I will summarize what happened there here quickly.

Apparently, Jason and Damian had been working together in secret (never shown in actual comics), Jason gave Damian targets and intel of people for Damian to put in his secret prison for villains. When Damian and the Titans go after a target something goes wrong and the Titans end up hurt. Damian goes after Jason without a second thought and accuses him of betraying him, a physical and emotional fight ensues and it ends with Jason promising that if he sees Damian again, he will kill him. That’s all for Jason and Damian being on good terms in Rebirth.

But it all changes in Infinite Frontier, in August of 2021 we see the *real* comeback of the “Batfamily” in Robin #5. Dick, Damian, Jason, Tim and Stephanie appear in this issue but the only things of essence happen between Jason and Damian and Dick and Damian. Only one of them made sense, and it wasn’t Jason and Damian.

Jason was there to bring Damian back to Bruce. Listen, the last time Jason and Damian were seen together they were actively hiding their work from Batman and then they ended promising to kill each other, and now Jason came fresh out of Urban Legends: Cheer #6 wanting Damian to go back to Bruce. Damian tricks Jason into a hug, but surprise! it wasn’t a hug, Damian electrocuted Jason to get him of his back.

And that’s all.

-

I understand that there have been moments where Jason has been written as wanting to connect to one or two people from the “family” but its never developed or based on something of true essence. You might consider it actually strong family connections but I just don’t see it that way.

Jason wearing a bat-symbol after the abuse and manipulation that Bruce put him through in new 52 onwards is just dumb to me. And given Red Hood’s origin, Jason wearing a bat-symbol in the first place is absurd and goes against everything that he once was.

Jason officially started wearing the bat-symbol again in Detective Comic's back up story written by Rosenberg and will continue to use it in the ongoing book Task Force Z.

The bat-symbol is annoying but Rosenberg writes Jason beautifully so yeah, I am biased there...

We just have different opinions on the matter Anon, but don't take this post as an attack towards you and what you think, it is just that I just don't like Jason being involved with anything Batman.

I hope you have a fantastic week Anon!

[redhoodieone]

Welcome Home

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

  I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

 Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

 Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

 I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

[mental-dilemma]

DATPT part 5

The boys have a conversation with Bruce before all hell breaks loose. 

we're gonna ignore the fact I haven't posted in months, for compensation can I give you an extra-long chapter? BTW yes I did finish editing this during class, I'm also not great with pranking siblings, and since this was the way to tell them bout Marinette/Ladybug I ran with it.

Read from the beginning:

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“Ok, Damian, have fun.” Dick turned to his brothers. “Well, boys it looks like we’ll have the apartment to ourselves Damian’s staying with Marinette tonight.”

“And you're ok with that?!” Jason asked, shocked Dick would let their youngest brother stay over with his girlfriend.

“Oh don’t give me that they’re both eighteen now and something tells me Marinette’s parents will keep more than one eye on them. So what do you guys want to do tonight.” The three brothers had decided that this trip to Paris would also be family time, especially considering how they didn’t really get any of that during the year.

“Movie?” Tim asked.

“Which one.” Jason was not watching another

“How bout this one?” Tim picked up the box that Damian had left sitting out on the coffee table earlier that morning. Jason plucked it from Tim’s hands and began reading the title. “Night of the living statue. Are you sure this doesn’t even seem scary?”

“I mean there’s always the crowbar wielding clown we could watch.”

“Oh yeah, that one got burned a while ago.”

“Fair enough.”

“So Night of the living statue it is,” Dick said, already making the popcorn.

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

“No don’t go into the basement, oh come on!” Jason was yelling at the screen.

“Jason you know they can’t hear you right?” Tim said rolling his eyes, which were illuminated by the laptop screen sitting in front of him.

“I don’t care Replacement the fact they’re doing it goes against every bit of common sense, it just doesn’t make, well--”

“Sense?” Dick supplied walking back into the room with the third popcorn bucket of the evening.

“Exactly I just don’t get it!” Jason held out his hands and made a grabbing motion for the bucket Dick easily sidestepped him and plopped down between the two.

“Ok, Tim popcorns back computers off.” He said as he finished getting settled.

“But I’m almost in, five more minutes and we get authentic Wayne manor security footage, and that’s better than any movie.

“Rules are rules replacement you agreed to the trade so you have to deal with it,” Jason said munching on popcorn.

“He’s right, and anyway if you keep going at it we’re gonna get a call from Al-” Right on cue, the video call screen popped up on Tim’s computer. He groaned before hitting accept.

“Hey, Alf good to see ya ol’ buddy ol’ pal! How’s the good ol’ USofA?” He said in an overly perky voice.

“Master Drake if I might request you stop attempting to hack onto the Batcave system it would be much appreciated.” Alfred’s voice rang over the call.

“Just hacking into security footage, huh?” Dick said glaring at Tim, Paris was a no hero weekend and Tim just broke that.

“I uh… I’m gonna go.” He said ending the call, moving quickly he closed his laptop grabbed a handful of popcorn, bolted over the couch to the room he was staying in, and closed the door.  

“Well, that’s the last we’ll be seeing of him tonight,” Dick said moving to grab his phone. He opened up Alfred’s contact at called him back. “Sorry, Alfred he’s just itching to get a case. He’s gotten really bored seeing Paris like a normal person, well as normal as you can get given we’re Waynes.”

“Don’t worry about it I have one of those as well.” He panned his camera over to where Bruce was sitting cowl down at the computer in the Batcave. Dick and Jason both gave a small laugh.

“How is he doing?” Dick asked.

“Oh same as usual, sulking during the night, acting like a complete buffon during the day.” Jason laughed, Dick heard Bruce mutter through the phone, and Alfred brought the camera over to Bruce.

“Hey, Bruce how ya doing?” Dick asked innocently.

“How am I doing? Let’s see Richard, my sons hijacked the plane to go to Paris on a whim with no planning whatsoever, I got a call from Damian’s school that he was absent today. I'm also dealing with a very angry Italian ambassador, oh and with all the girls out on other missions I’m dealing with the entirety of Gotham and WE by myself for who knows how long. How do you think I feel?” The bags under Bruce’s eyes were more pronounced than usual as he berated his two older sons for a few more minutes, “now do you two have a reasonable explanation, or am I going to be feeding your asses to Harley Quinn for therapy sessions this week.”

“Damian has a girlfriend,” Dick said smoothly, Alfred and Bruce both paused, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

“Please Dick if you’re gonna come up with an excuse at least make it a plausible one,” Bruce said while Alfred was attempting to compose himself in the background.

“I’m telling the truth, her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s in his class and apparently, they’ve been dating for the last few months.”

“I’m going to search her up and if you’re lying to me it’s three therapy sessions with Quinn.” Dick shivered remembering the last time that happened, He had been suspended over a shark tank until he admitted he needed to start putting himself first. Bruce typed a few things on the computer and let out a sharp whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“See I told you,” Dick said smugly.

“That doesn’t change the fact that---” Bruce was cut off as they heard a scream come from Tim’s room.

“Sorry, Bruce gotta go check that out. Call you later.” Dick ended the video

following Jason to Tim’s room where they saw him sitting over his computer furiously banging on the keyboard.

“Woah Woah replacement if you keep that up then there won’t be any computer left to type with.”

“I don’t care! Someone cut the power and I was in the middle of checking Parisian crime records.

“Don’t freak out,” Dick said calmly, “I’ll go check the fuse box, you and Jason can go check the router. Ok?”

“Ok,” Tim said taking a breath. He put his computer aside and walked out of the room with Jason following him. Dick tried to call Damian to find out where the fuse box was, but for some reason couldn’t get a signal inside the apartment. He walked out onto the balcony waving his phone up wildly seeing if a bar would show up. He sighed as he brought his phone down. Nothing. As he turned to go back inside he felt a small pinch on his neck he moved to swat at it and he felt nothing. As he stepped forwards his eyelids began drooping, he stumbled and reached for the railing. He missed and before he slipped into unconsciousness he felt the bite of cold cement against his arms.

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

When Dick woke up the sun was streaming through the living room window. He felt a weight on his stomach and when he stretched his neck up he saw Jason was lying on him, with Tim lying on the top of the pile. He laid there a moment as the night caught up to him, he began formulating who would knock them out, and how he was going to get out of this dogpile when a sharp“Ahem” sounded from the doorway. Standing there was Damian in jeans and a shirt.

“Well, it looks like you guys had a blast last night,” Marinette said poking her head in. It was the first time Dick had seen her without pigtails, instead, she had her blue-black locks tied back in a messy bun and she was suspiciously wearing Damian’s sweatshirt.  

“You want to tell me why Father called me last night wanting to know all about my girlfriend and why I hadn’t told him about her yet.” Jason and Tim gave simultaneous groans of annoyance as Dick hopped up.

“Listen Damian I can explain,” He said stepping forward. He felt something hook his foot.  “What the--” he got out before red paint came crashing down on top of him. Jason and Tim, both awake now, shot up trying in vain to avoid the downpour only to stumble into more strings. Before anyone could blink glitter rained down from the ceiling sticking to the paint coating the boys. A camera flash later saw them giving the death glare to Damian as he and Marinette stood off to the side trying not to laugh.

“What. the. Hell.” Dick said as he wiped paint from his eyes.

“If you want to live Demonspawn you better hope that this paint comes out,” Jason said as he attempted to shake glitter from his hair.

“If Con ever finds that picture Jason isn’t gonna be the one you should be scared of,” Tim said dangerously low. Damian finally cracked and started laughing. Collectively the three batboys stopped and looked up in shock. They hadn’t heard Damian laugh before, sure they’ve heard the evil laugh and the Robin laugh but never his laugh, it was soft light, and infectious. Before long Marinette was laughing too, while Jason Tim and Dick were all smiling.  

“Ok you were right that was better than anything I could think up,” Damian said as he composed himself.

“Hey give some credit to Luka,” Marinette said, “He was the one who suggested glitter.”

Jason’s eyes widened as he realized that not only did Demon spawn pull a nonlethal prank, but Marinette was in on it. Not just Marinette but some kid named Luka too.

“Wait back up, you’re telling me you guys decided that you should knock us out, and then dump red paint and glitter on us?” Tim said blearily.

“Well, we couldn’t just come out and tell you,” Marinette responded.

“Well we could, but this is revenge for your little family trip,” Damian interjected.

“Tell us what? That you hate us with a passion? You’re an evil psychopath?”

“You know for a family of detectives you guys can be rather slow.” Marinette slammed a hand over her mouth realizing what she had said. “I’m sorry I didn’t me--”

“I love you so much right now,” Damian said gawking at her, Marinette blushed.

“Ok, will one of you two please talk to us rather than whatever,” Jason gestured vaguely to the two of them, “that is.”

“What color is the glitter?” Marinette said as she turned her attention from Damian. She sounded almost like a school teacher would when talking to children.

“Black…” The boys responded in unison.

“And what color is the paint?”

“Red.”

“So what’s red and covered in black spots.”

“Lady----- Oh for fucks sake,” Tim said slapping his hand on his forehead.

“There it is,” Marinette said triumphantly, a smile spreading across her lips. A few moments later Jason and Dick both gasped as the information finally sunk in.

“Why can’t anyone in this family be normal.” The second youngest Wayne lamented.

“Well, at least this means you can join my team and me on patrols. I bet that’ll make Paris a little more interesting.” Tim perked up.

“Woah. Woah. Woah. We can talk all that out later but you need to go get cleaned up before the paint stains the carpet.” Damian interrupted, he didn’t like the fact Marinette was talking about patrol with his brothers.

“I would like to remind you that this was your plan, Damian,” Dick said.

“It may be my plan but it’s someone else’s carpet now go.”

The three boys were shepherded to the bathroom while Damian and Marinette cleaned up the mess left in the living room. All three of them were rather impressed with the way the two of them had revealed Marinette’s identity, although it went unspoken how if anyone revealed it there would be serious consequences.

It took them over an hour to even begin making a dent in the glitter-paint combination that covered their bodies. Dick having been directly under the bucket had it the worst, with Jason coming in at a close second. Jason thought he had at least gotten out the stuff in his hair during his shower, only to look in the mirror and let out a quiet fuck. Dick gave him a questioning look, in response, Jason just pointed to his hair. Where his white streak was now stained a deep crimson. “This means war.”

Tag list (closed): 

@ur-average-reader @dast218 @allulily @acoursedprophetwithasmothie @k-laconia-bug1 @smolplantmum @g-arya @loysydark @mewwitch @itsemeanne @hauntedstudent99 @pawsitivelymiraculous @clumsy-owl-4178 @eeveeofstewjon @demonicbusiness @zotinha456 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @chocolateherringtacofan @abrx2002 @toodaloo-kangaroo @wannajointhecrabcult @miraculous-simmer7 @notmycupoftea26 @legodetectivemalsblog @fusser90 @ladyrwby @buginetye

[gaygent37]

The Omega House - Robin Pile

I said I would concentrate on my work. I said I would pay more attention to my main account and let go of the porn for a bit. I said I would try to write some more... plot-based things. Well, that did not last very long. Thankfully, I stopped myself just in time, and I’m sorry this isn’t finished, nor has it gotten to any porn, but enjoy anyway, I guess.

994 words, Robin pile, omegaverse, omega Dick, omega Tim, omega Damian, alpha Jason, aged-up Damian, aphrodisiacs, experiment gone wrong

“Okay. Try... this,” Tim said, handing Dick an eye dropper filled with glowing blue liquid. “Just put a couple drops on your tongue.”

Dick eyed it suspiciously. “This… doesn’t look trustworthy, Timbo,” he said dubiously. “What is it again?”

“It’s supposed to get rid of unwanted hair growth,” Tim said with a smile. “It’ll keep you smooth all the time, and you won’t have to bother shaving.”

“Oh?” Dick looked a bit more interested now.

“I’m sure I have the compound right this time,” Tim said with a determined nod.

“Just like you had it right last time?” Dick asked, thinking about how he spent a week wearing thick pads in his pants because he would not stop leaking despite the fact that he was not turned on or in heat.

Tim blushed. “That- That was a small mistake,” Tim said. “This one’s right, I promise!”

“Okay…” Dick said. He raised the eyedropper up and squeezed a couple drops onto his tongue. He smacked his lips together, tasting it. “Tangy,” he decided.

“Tangy?” Tim asked. He shuffled his stuff around for a second before grabbing a notepad and quickly scribbling something down. “Is it a good tangy or a bad tangy?” Tim demanded.

Dick shrugged. “Kinda like oranges… and pineapples tangy. Sweet tangy.”

“Okay,” Tim said, writing more things down. “Now, how do you feel?”

Dick shrugged. “Normal? Is it supposed to work immediately?”

“Fast enough,” Tim said.

Dick pulled up the leg of his leggings and felt his skin. “Well, I just shaved yesterday, so I don’t really think you’ll know. We’ll have to wait a couple of days a see.”

Tim sighed and tossed his notebook away. “Then what should we do in the meantime?”

“Anything else you want to test out?” Dick asked.

“No,” Tim said.

“You called me all the way across town to test out on thing?” Dick asked. “Seriously? I was going to go to lunch with Jason!”

“Call him over for lunch,” Tim said. “He can try my new serum too! And you might as well invite Damian over as well. He’s going to get upset if we were all hanging out without him.”

Dick sighed. “Jason’s not going to want to try your hair-removing serum, Timmy. Our Jay? He’s too much of a typical manly-man to do that. Dami might though.” He smiled. “I’ll call them.”

~

Half an hour later, they were all gathered in Tim’s living room, eating a wide variety of different takeout, and watching the new Stephen King movie, It.

Dick had his face hidden in Jason’s shoulder for a good portion of the movie, Tim had a pillow hugged to his chest, grimacing at the bloody parts, Damian sat on the floor between Jason’s legs and watched with utmost intrigue, and Jason just inhaled the food like it was man starving to death.

Towards the end of the movie, when Billy finds Georgie’s raincoat, Jason stopped in the middle of bringing his third slice of pizza to his mouth. Frowning, he set it back down.

“Does something smell weird to you?” he asked.

“No,” Tim said. “Do you smell something?”

Jason looked around. “Yeah…” he said slowly. “It’s like the sickening sweetness of a flower? It’s actually really overpowering, and I’m losing my appetite.”

“Maybe it’s because you ate through half of the food,” Damian scoffed.

“Mm, no,” Jason said. “There’s… something else. Are you making something, Tim?”

Tim frowned. “No? I don’t think I left anything simmering this time.” He tossed the pillow aside and went to go check. He came back a few moments later and shook his head. “I don’t smell anything, Jay.”

“No, I swear-” Jason stopped talking, his eyes suddenly snapping to Dick. “Dickie…” he said slowly. “Are you the one that smells like that?”

Dick looked up at him. He sniffed himself. “No? I smell like me.”

Jason leaned down and took a deep breath. He gagged and pulled back. “It’s definitely you,” he said.

Tim hurried over and tried smelling Dick. “I… still don’t smell anything, Jason. Are you sure- Dickie?”

“What?” Dick asked.

“You’re looking… really hot,” Tim said.

“Uh, thanks?”

“No, like, you look like you’re burning up,” Tim said worriedly. “You’re literally sweating.”

“What?” Dick reached up and touched his forehead. His hand came away wet. “But how? All the windows are open, and I don’t feel hot!”

Jason grabbed Dick’s chin and turned him to face Jason, and he stared at him hard.

“Tim’s right,” Jason said. “Say… is your next heat supposed to be coming up?”

“N-No?” Dick stammered. “It’s not for another month! There’s no way I can be in heat now! Unless-” He looked at Tim with wide eyes.

Tim groaned. “I swear I had it perfect!”

Damian finally looked away from the movie. “What did you do, Drake?”

Tim sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He mumbled that he may have mixed some chemicals that were common in aphrodisiacs into his serum, and it was causing Dick’s body to express symptoms of arousal without him even realizing it.

“I don’t- I don’t feel aroused though,” Dick said. “I feel fine-”

Jason leaned in and kissed Dick, shoving his tongue into Dick’s mouth. Dick melted into him almost immediately, moaning and pressing back hungrily.

Jason pulled away after a few seconds, and Dick’s eyes had become glazed over. “Jay…” he breathed out, his hands clasped tightly on Jason’s thighs.

“Hey, hey,” Tim said. “No fucking on my couch. I just had it professionally cleaned, after Damian decided it was okay to drizzle chocolate syrup onto Dick and eat it all.”

“You’re just jealous you weren’t there,” Damian snapped.

“Humph,” Tim scoffed, crossing his arms, but not admitting anything. He turned his attention back to where Dick had climbed into Jason’s lap now and Jason’s hands had slipped lower and lower, close to groping Dick’s ass. Tim sighed. “You can use my bed if you want.”

[forthemultiverse]

Countdown Pt 2 - Jason Todd x Reader

Request: If requests are open, could you do a part 2 to “Count Down” where Jason gets injured and the reader winds up being the one to patch him up. And during the commotion, his helmet comes off and the reader freaks out because IT’S THEIR SOULMATE!?!?! Or maybe Alfred tells Jason about how she was his soulmate and so he keeps an eye on her as much as he can until one night he has to step in and save her? If this is too much I completely understand and sorry for it being so long. Have a nice day 💗💗💗!

I hope you like it since I hadn’t even considered a part two to this but the second I saw this request my head went wild. Thank you for the inspiration, I just pray it’s good!! (Also, this is my 100th post and I’m nearly at 400 followers and freaking out inside. Thank you everyone for coming along for this ride)

- People have asked to be tagged (<3) in this Part Two so here you go: @sailorsolar12 @satansspacebubblegum

Soulmate AU: A Soulmate Universe, where the clock on your wrist counts down to the day your soulmate dies.

Part One

Sad to say, you’d been permanently stuck in Gotham since the day he died to the present. Every time you tried to leave, you felt the tug in your gut. The Universe wanted you to stay, which gave you even more motivation to leave, but still. You didn’t date, and most people worth being friends with didn’t cause a fuss if you rejected them once they saw the burnt date on your wrist. You didn’t want to go through that pain again. No more Soulmate deaths.

Your best friend didn’t get it. She thought you’d be desperate to meet your second one so you could have all the time you could have together. She also thought you wouldn’t want anyone else to know you for a minute then lose you to death. You thought avoiding dating would make it even easier for this mysterious soul number two. They could make their assumptions about soulmates, and you could die without causing them a minute of stress.

You’d probably change your mind about that when you were older, but for now, you were twenty, at Gotham University, and working for a section of the police that tried to reach out to teen runaways and orphanages. You’d spend your evenings at the orphanage, talking and getting to the know the kids, taking the older ones out and driving them to any parties they might have, baking with the younger ones, and you’d sleep there to make breakfast and tutor anyone on Saturday morning. You also found yourself playing video games and sports with them before having to leave after lunch on Sunday. Sometimes the police would have you come and talk to the kids they’d found on the streets since you always had a way with people. The kids listened to you and put up less of a fight if you were trying to convince them to get help.

Your introduction back into the Wayne Family life had been when you’d been asked to check in on one Stephanie Brown. It was separate from the police, but the Hospital also asked for your assistance when they were dealing with broken homes and kids with abusive parents. Not only was she the daughter of the Question, but she had been pregnant and had given the baby up for adoption. The Hospital asked you to check in with her, and you had information on her hold of she ever wanted to know where it was. You’d been against it first. You didn’t want anything to do with the Wayne’s, and she was dating Timothy Drake-Wayne. Surely you’d end up having to go to the Manor to meet her one time, and then you’d feel bad for never answering the butler’s calls and never explaining to Bruce why Alfred had tried to reach out to you. Ignoring his butler had resulted in multiple stroppy emails from the billionaire - and you didn’t want to know how he got your email.

You were right, but you were also too much of a pushover to say no when Stephanie sent you the location for your check-up.

You pulled up in the long driveway, suddenly hit with what it would have been like to visit the place when you were younger. You’d barely known Jason, you couldn’t make assumptions about what he was like beyond your one evening together, but you were a hopeless romantic and a very vivid daydreamer. You didn’t think about it. You refused to. You were a smiler, and bright face, a positive energy people needed in their lives. You wouldn’t let yourself seem down.

Steph had said to go round the side and into the gardens, claiming that you’d spot her easily. She was right. She sat, laughing and tangled with Tim Drake under a tree while the sun shined on them. You smiled to yourself, the aura coming off both of them was the aura of soulmates. Their legs were on top of each other, and there was a share bag of crisps knocked over slightly a few metres away.

“Hey?” You broke their bubble.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Stephanie straightened herself up slightly, her legs still tangled with Tim’s. “He’s been stuck in front of a computer for about three days and heavily sleep-deprived, so Alfred called me in - you don’t mind if he’s here right?” She suddenly sounded tense and panicked.

“I’m good if you are…what we might be talking about…?”

“He knows about the baby. We started dating right after I found out…is that weird, Nah, he was helpful and stuff. It was pretty great. Flew back into town just to help me through it.” Steph was a living heart eyes emoji for a good second, and you chuckled. The bags under Tim’s eyes were oblivious, but he was smiling softly back at her.

“Well, how are you doing? And I mean that to both of you,” you raised an eyebrow at Tim.

“Tired.” Tim sighed, leaning back on the tree.

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.” You thirded. “Anything cool going on in your life.”

“This is super casual, don’t you have to ask like a list of questions and stuff?” Tim asked

“Not a therapist yet, just helping out teens for the police and the hospital in the hopes of making people’s lives better.” You shrugged.

“Why do you wanna do that?” Tim asked, and Steph’s eyes went wide.

“Tim!”

“That came out wrong. I mean, helping people is great, what’s your inspiration?”

“I’ve always been good at getting people to talk I guess, plus I have a pretty good way of getting runaways to talk to me.”

“Which is?”

“Are you a runaway?”

“No,”

“Then you don’t need to hear it.” You turned back to Steph, “How’s school going?”

She groaned “I’m assuming you’ve been given information?”

“Just some missing homework and an absent from yesterday.”

“I overslept.” The phrasing was careful.

“Not sleeping well?”

“Nope, been up late at the moment,”

“Any reasons, or just, it’s Gotham, and no one should sleep if they want to live.” You joked and the look Steph and Tim gave each other couldn’t have been more obvious. Everyone was a bit stressed at the moment. Batman seemed to be at war with the Red Hood a few months back, then he disappeared, and reappeared about to unmask Batman and the latest Robin, then he disappeared again, and Batman disappeared. Then they both reappeared a few weeks back and even though there didn’t seem to be a problem between them this time - guns were a tense subject in America and having him just running around Gotham kept everyone on their toes and well behaved. “Wanna talk about that look or are you going to make me analyse it?”

“How are you doing at the moment?” Stephanie changed the subject. You stood up walked towards her and held out a hand. She took it and once you’d pulled Steph to her feet you gave her a tight hug. “Everything you say is between us and only us. No judgement. It’s okay to be scared.”

“There’s just a lot of stress at the moment.” You felt Stephanie relax slightly until the butler appears from the back door.

“Master Tim - ” his sentence was cut short when he saw you. “(Y/N)! What a surprise!”

“You know Alfred?” Stephanie pulled away to look at you closely. “Do you work for Bruce?”

“God no, well he basically owns the city so technically I do, but Bruce Wayne probably hates me. I never answer his emails.” You said while lifting your head to the side slightly.

“What?” Tim was looking at you, a gleam in his eye that made you feel vulnerable. Like he knew everything about you - or he would by the end of the conversation.

“What are you doing here? Not that you aren’t welcome,” Alfred had hurried over to the pair of you.

“What’s going on?” Steph’s walls were going up which meant you two were probably going to have a Bruce Wayne conversation in the future. There were some issues and anger to be dealt with there.

“Miss (Y/N) here, is…was Master Jason’s - ”

“Alfred!” You cut him off before he could finish the sentence, your voice raised slightly - something which didn’t happen often.

“Jason’s Soulmate…” Tim finished the sentence looking at the inside of your wrist. “You were - ”

“Yeah, you don’t need to say it again.” You sighed.

“Jason’s Soulmate…” Stephanie muttered in shock. “That must have been awful.”

“I knew him for about an evening of talking and a few days of texting…” your voice was low. You knew going to Manor wasn’t a smart decision.

“Anyway, you two are needed in Master Bruce’s…office,” Alfred said to Tim and Steph, and they disappeared in a second.

“I should probably go.” You didn’t like how stiff your voice sounded.

“You should come back for another visit,” Alfred suggested.

“I’m sure you’re very nice and all, and you mean it with the best intentions - but the last thing I want to do is be at the home my soulmate ran away from before he was killed.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. Tell Steph she owes me a full half hour of chat,” you didn’t wait to hear him say yes as you exited the garden and hopped in your car to drive away.

Since that afternoon, something was off around you. Not with you, just around you. Gotham suddenly felt a lot safer. You spotted Red Robin and Spoiler watching you and the older orphanage kids head into a bowling alley, and you kept seeing red flashes when you walked anywhere at night. It took you two days to get curious as to what was happening and test this new aura. You did something very unlike you and went for a rooftop walk in the more dangerous part of Gotham.

Most of the buildings were tall and closely packed together, a few alleys ways every now and again - and you weren’t stupid enough to try and see if you could cross them. You walked across four buildings, waiting for anything to happen, anything at all.

“What are you doing.” You tensed up, turning round to face the Red Hood in all his hun slinging glory.

“Wandering.” Your voice was tight, and you started to regret your evening out very much.

“It’s not safe.”

“Has Batman been sending his army of smaller selves to watch me?”

“Why would I know?”

“Cos you’re clearly involved with him somehow.” Red Hood laughed.

“Just get back home okay.”

“Aren’t you going to try and shoot me?”

“My line of work is a lot more complicated than that.”

“How old are you?”

“20.”

“My age, I might know you.” You said without really thinking the sentence out fully, it just slipped out and he didn’t deny it. “So what’s your business with the city tonight?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Why not? You’re in the works with Batman, so anything you do will be all over the papers by next week, to my knowledge we don’t know each other, I have no place better to be. Talk to me.” The sentence felt all yo familiar but you didn’t click why you just had a weird sense of Deja vu. Something obviously bugged the Red Hood too as you noticed him tense for a second before relaxing.

“Do you always walk around smiling and saying things like that?”

“Not purposefully.” You shrugged. “Does it bother you that I’m smiling right now?”

“I just don’t get how people can be that happy all the time.”

“Maybe you should try it sometimes. Being positive is actually quite fun.” You teased and turned to look at the sky. Gotham was the city of clouds, the Batman symbol shining exactly where it always did. “So what are you dealing with tonight.”

“Just a surveillance job.”

“And why did you come talk to me?”

“You’ve been walking on these buildings for a good half hour, and I got curious.”

“It’s been half an hour?” You looked at your watch “Wow, time does fly when you’re alone with your thoughts.”

Jason didn’t like being at the Manor any time of the year, but when the whole family were together, it was the worst. The only reason he was there was because Dick had saved his ass and taken him back for stitches - now he was stuck listening to Stephanie half Yelp half encourage him.

“She’s so nice! Don’t you dare be mean to her and screw this up! Literally, how did someone so kind-hearted end up with you for a Soulmate! She’s the most supportive person I’ve ever met!”

“Cut it out already!” Jason snapped, grabbing some toast and contemplating shoving it in her mouth.

“I can’t believe you spoke to her but didn’t tell her!” Stephanie complained and Jason froze. He hadn’t even known who his soulmate was until Steph started screaming about it, and he only took it seriously when Alfred told him what had happened. That was the real reason he was still in Gotham. He didn’t care about Bruce’s job for him; he cared about the fact someone out there had been hurt by his death. Someone had really cried for Jason Todd - not Robin, not Bruce Wayne’s ward. Jason Todd.

“How do you know I spoke to her.” He spoke very quietly and everyone in the kitchen tended. He wasn’t sure if everyone in the room would ever trust him over than Alfred - but him speaking calmly terrified them more than him yelling.

“This is your first time in town not trying to kill one of us; you can’t blame me for wanting to know what you’re doing.” Bruce was observing him, and Jason didn’t enjoy being treated like a bomb about to explode.

“So that’s why you’ve been spying on her!” Jason almost laughed. “She’s seen you, you know. She knows somethings up because she’s seen you guys watching her! But you’re not watching her. You’re watching me.”

“Why are you just watching her if you aren’t going to talk to her?” Tim finally asked what they were all thinking.

“I died, Tim.”

“I know. It’s your favourite topic of conversation.”

“I can’t just walk up to her as Jason Todd. The second I do anything, everything comes out about what happened, all of you guys, and this entire world. She becomes apart of it. And I don’t even know her that well.”

“She’s your Soulmate. You are one of the few people who have 100% proof that they’ve found their soulmate.” Stephanie said, looking slightly towards Tim.

“Wooo, dying has one plus side I guess!” Jason said sarcastically. “The universe can say all it wants but let’s be real, whether she’s my soulmate or not, it’s my choice to be with her. My choice to use this information. If I ever decide I want to be with someone; it’s going to be my decision, not the universes, not you guys, mine.” Jason stuffed another piece of toast into his mouth and left the Manor as quickly as he could.

“He’s going to spy on her some more, isn’t he.” Dick mused

“Oh definitely,” Steph responded. “She just has this quality about her that makes it impossible to dislike her.”

So that’s what Jason did. He watched and he watched and he stayed in Gotham. Taking down bad guys and causing no trouble. He even started to obey some of Bruce’s rules. He didn’t want to be driven out of the city until he made up his mind. This was his choice to make - and yours he guessed. He didn’t want to cut you out of the conversation when it was your future he’d be deciding too. But talking to you meant he had to choose before someone in his family did it for him. He didn’t trust Stephanie not to somehow do something about the situation the next time she saw you. He also didn’t think Steph would do it with any cruel intentions. She understood where Jason came from, she was similar to him in many ways - and she justed wanted to help.

The gun rule was not one of the ones he followed. He liked using guns, but it was also guns that meant he was bleeding to death in an alley. He’d seen you walking around late at night again; you were coming back from dropping some kids off at the orphanage and obviously tired. A tired young woman was a prime target, and someone had grabbed you. He had to interfere, but his game was off. He kept expecting you to freak out, say his name, and he was worried you’d already been hurt. They’d pulled out a gun and shot six bullets while he was distracted. He was going to hunt them down and make them pay once he could move.

“Oh my god.” he heard your voice and for a second he thought his brain had made it up as some sick twisted way to give him comfort, but that wasn’t the case. You were there. You were talking to him. “You need to stay awake!”

“Get away…”

“No way, you need help, I’m going to get you help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, bullet holes and blood equal fine.”

“I’ve been through worse.”

“Sure, and I’m sure that’s not part of the reason you’re running through Gotham as a gunslinging vigilante. Therapy’s a thing, and this is not normal. You’re not fine.”

“Just, get -”

“Get you some help? Sure.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,”

“Well, it’s what I said.”

“I’m -”

“In need of help, yes, I know,” you were searching him for any way to call any of the other superheroes to come help. You doubted he’d want to go to a hospital.

“Getting a bit feely, at least buy me dinner first.”

“Isn’t that normally the girl’s line?” You finally got sick of looking at the stupid helmet.

“You need air.”

“I’m -”

“Need to breathe.”

“That one didn’t work.”

“Doesn’t matter, you need air, and you need to text someone your location.”

“Please don’t take the Helmet off.”

“Would you rather die.”

“A little bit.”

“Very funny.” You felt around his head and found the two clasps, pulling the helmet off and take advantage of the fact he seemed unable to move the rest of his body. He wore a mask over his eyes which made you laughed, “See, isn’t it nice breathing fresh air?”

“I can -”

“I can breathe now, and it’s beautiful.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” it wasn’t even close. Jason was going to say that he could explain. But the mask and blood meant you didn’t recognise him. Even without the mask you might not, he’d changed quite a lot since he’d died. He was safer than he thought, and sadly that fact hurt him a little bit.

“I’m taking this,” you pulled out his earpiece and put it in your ear, tapping the side to turn it on. “Red Hood’s bleeding to death in an alley.”

“Um…hello?”

“Hi, Anyway someone can come and get him?”

“Getting your location now.” you recognised the voice, but not well enough to place it.“I took the helmet off so he could breathe properly, he can talk, but he’s really pale and was shot like six times,”

“Spoiler and Nightwing are on their way.” the line went dead, so you assumed the person had ended the call.

You looked at the face beneath the helmet very carefully. Some part of your mind was turning and putting the dots together - I mean, there’s only so much face a mask can cover. Something was there, something you couldn’t figure out and it was infuriating.

“Do I know you? I know you probably won’t tell me, but like…”

“Kinda.” He didn’t say anything else as you suddenly gasped. He’d changed, he changed a lot. And you didn’t understand how on earth he was alive. He couldn’t be alive. Your mind was playing tricks. A similar voice and facial structure didn’t equal Jason Todd. Jason Todd was dead and people don’t come back from the dead. You were being crazy, and irrational. But if laser shooting flying men were real, was resurrection really that impossible? You’d been at the funeral. You’d seen Alfred and Bruce’s reaction. You’d seen his older brother Dick beating himself up for not trying to be a good brother to Jason. You’d cried. You’d cried for someone you barely knew. He couldn’t just be alive. You were assuming things.

But you had two dates in a world where you only get one soulmate. It would make sense.“Your friends will be here soon…”

“Take the mask off.” He could guess what you were thinking based on the reaction.

“No. I will not have that conversation now. You can’t be -”

“Jason Todd.” he tried to nod.

“Nope.”

“I can-”

“Nope.” You took a step back, your breathing picking up. “I went to Jason Todd’s funeral, and I can’t yell at you while you’re dying.”

“Yell?” he didn’t expect you to yell.

“I’m freaking out a bit right now so yes I will probably yell.” your voice was all over the place, but you were determined not to yell. He didn’t deserve to be yelled at. “You can’t be Jason Todd, Jason Todd died.”

“I can explain everything.”

“Then do that, when you’re not dying.” You refused to believe it. “Jason Todd’s already dead, so he can’t be dying right now.”

“Take the mask off.“

“Fine, but only to prove you can’t possibly be Jason Todd because I went to Jason Todd’s funeral.” you were shaking slightly, wishing Nightwing and Spoiler would just show up already to end whatever mind trick Red Hood was playing. You leant forward slowly, peeling the mask off and trying to convince yourself not to. Not knowing the answer would be better than knowing because then you could pretend your first and real soulmate was out there. You could also assume that this was all some evil game and that Jason was dead and continue living your life just the same. It would be your choice.

The Red Hood, had been a killer, he’d gone rage on Gotham more than once and he used a gun. He killed people, and he worked in the shadows. You’d seen the amount of chaos and fear he created. If this was Jason, you didn’t know what you’d do. You’d want to give him a chance, and in a way, he was more effective than Batman, but you weren’t one for violence. You’d never been. You liked positive thinking and smiling faces. But it this was Jason, it was your soulmate. And he had really died, so whatever brought him back would’ve messed him up pretty badly so could you blame him for wanting to be a bit more permanent with his methods of dealing with crime. Every thought in your head was running wild and merging faster than you could cope with. You were overwhelmed and ready to break down. You couldn’t deal with all of this; no one should have to deal with all of this.

The mask fell to the floor, and it may have changed, but it was Jason Todd’s face. You’d stared at a picture after he’d died to help you process everything. You’d memorised his face and thought about how it may have changed if he’d been given a chance to live. You may not have known him all that well but you didn’t want to forget him.

“I went to your funeral.” you started to cry. The third time you’d let yourself cry over it, “You better recover and explain what the hell is happening.”

“Can I see your wrist?” he asked. You raised it slowly to show him.

He ran his fingers over the scaring on the first date. The burns had never faded and you could still vaguely still the numbers underneath. The 0 had turned into minus numbers just to remind you how long you’d survived without the universes input. He kissed the burn lightly.

“Crap, that’s a large number…”

“Which one?”

“Both of them.” you laughed slightly, still crying. “I guess you’re going to be living quite a while then, no dying tonight..”

“Your number’s big too.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“We’re here!” Spoiler announced, stopping dead when she saw you.

“We’re taking her to the cave,” Jason instructed.

“Obviously.” Spoiler nodded while Nightwing picked his little brother up.

“So, Dick Grayson?” you assumed, pointing to Nightwing and trying to piece everything together in your head.

“This is going to be a fun week.” Dick laughed

Part One 

[zombiesbecrazy]

Phantom Pain Relief

Summary: Alfred Pennyworth's days have been rather dull since Bruce Wayne lost his memories, until an unexpected guest shows up on his doorstep.

Set the day prior to Grayson #12

In honour of one of Dick Grayson's many birthdays :)

Word Count: 4366

AO3

Alfred was finding himself with a lot more free time on his hands. Or hand as it were.

His duties under this new, memory-less version of Bruce Wayne were much closer to those of a typical butler; cooking, cleaning, general household tasks. It was a lot less surveillance or medical emergencies than in his previous reiteration of his role and resulted in a lot more consistent sleep patterns and time to himself. He still assisted the rest of the family on a nightly basis as required from the confines of the Cave, but it was a much calmer and subdued than before without Batman overseeing the events.

Frankly, things were dull for the first time in a long time and if he were to be entirely honest, he was getting bored.

He was going to have to get a new hobby soon to keep himself entertained.

It was three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon and he was sitting in his living room with a cup of Earl Gray and a book that he had been meaning to read for months. Sunday had always been his day off, theoretically, but he couldn’t remember the last time that he had fully taken the day to himself before Master Bruce’s memory loss. Yesterday, New Master Bruce (as Alfred had taken to thinking of him) had insisted that Alfred take the day completely off because he had noticed that his butler hadn’t actually done so since his return, and New Master Bruce had thought that was odd.

New Master Bruce had laughed and said lightly “I’m capable enough to look after myself without adult supervision for one day a week, right?” and Alfred had just smiled and replied with “I should hope so, sir” and then provided strict instructions to not attempt to use the stove because that had always ended badly before and amnesia was surely just going to exacerbate that.

A knock at his door came as a surprise.

Before he opened it, Alfred knew that it could have only been a handful of people.  Most callers to the manor (who made it past the gate unnoticed) went to the front door. Close friends of the family often used the kitchen side door, but there wasn’t really anyone in that position right now who knew New Master Bruce well enough for that. In case of extreme emergency, those with the power of flight had been allowed to use the north side third floor lounge balcony, but other than that all costumed appearances must be through the various Cave entrances. Not many had that type of access privilege anyway.

A knock at this particular location was an even further rarity, as it was at the little used door of Alfred’s ground floor west wing apartment and it was a door that very few people outside of the family knew even existed. The door was tucked away in a nook of the manor, through a small garden, well out of the way that people couldn’t stumble across it randomly unless they already knew that it was there. He wasn’t expecting anyone today and it made him curious as to who it could possibly be. His only guess was that it was New Master Bruce needing some assistance, but he would have used the inside entrance rather than the outside one.

Unless he had somehow managed to lock himself out of the manor.

When he opened the door, Alfred froze at the sight of the dark haired man before him. He had not expected this visitor to grace his doorstep with his presence ever again.

“Um. Hi?”

It wasn’t often that Alfred Pennyworth found himself dumbfounded, but seeing the previously-thought-to-be-deceased Dick Grayson standing on his doorstep had solidly positioned him as such. Dick looked a little sheepish, clearly knowing that this was an unorthodox situation at best. It was his ‘caught stealing cookies from the jar’ face. Alfred could recognize that specific look anywhere.

Words were failing him, so instead Alfred spoke with his actions and stepped forward to pull Dick into a hug. Dick immediately gave him a tight squeeze back and any doubt Alfred had about his identity vanished; it was a pure Dick Grayson hug. The eldest boy was alive and home. Alfred couldn’t take his eyes off him after they broke apart. It was nothing short of a miracle and it felt like Alfred had finally let go of a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding.  “You would expect that with the amount of times that someone who has been thought to be dead comes back into my life that I would be used to it, however, I never am.” He stepped aside, smiling, and gestured for the now grinning younger man to join him inside. “I’m extremely shocked but pleased to see you. Please come in.”

Dick entered and closed the door behind himself, kicking off his shoes and removing his jacket at the same time, and hung it up in the closet behind the door. Bruce, as well as Thomas and Martha before him, had always insisted that the rules were different in Alfred’s apartment. This was Alfred’s home, not part of the manor itself, and should be considered as such. Unless it was an actual life or death emergency, you couldn’t walk in without being invited, as Alfred was not at work and that was to be respected.  You were to look after yourself. Titles were not used.  It was the only place that Alfred used only first names with the family. Master Bruce had tried to get Alfred to stop using formal titles in the rest of the manor proper years ago, but Alfred had always insisted on the formality of it. It was a part of his job, and he liked the division of such.  Dick, as well as Jason, had spent quite a bit of time at Alfred’s when they lived at the manor, but it had been a long time since either one of them had stopped by unannounced, however that probably had more to do with Alfred never taking time off than anything else.

“Alfred! You’re missing a hand!”

Looking down at where his hand used to be, Alfred frowned slightly to himself. “I’m aware, but thank you for your concern. The Joker decided that I was no longer in need of it.” Dick looked like he was going to start arguing about it or make a fuss, but Alfred held up his good hand to silence him.  He really wasn’t in the mood for that conversation when there were more pressing issues to discuss. “There is a fresh pot of tea on the counter, if you would like some.” Dick’s eyes flicked back to Alfred’s missing limb, but seemed to decide to drop the matter and made his way into the kitchen. He grabbed a cup and poured himself a drink, and then back into the sitting room and joined Alfred on the sofa. They sat in silence for a few moments, with neither of them really knowing where to start. Dick looked a little nervous like he was expecting to be chastised for his disappearance, which was understandable, but Alfred was just so happy to see him that he couldn’t. Etiquette for such occasions didn’t have a set schedule, so Alfred just decided to plunge in and save Dick from any awkwardness. “I assume that you heard about Bruce. I must infer that he knew of your current living status before all this?”

Dick gave a small nod, and Alfred could see the regret on his face. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come home. I didn’t know until a few days ago. Bruce had me on an undercover mission but dropped out of contact so I came home to see what was going on only to find… amnesia?  Seriously? Soap opera much?” He snorted, because even after all they had been through it did really just sound farfetched. He was clearly just getting started though, and Alfred smiled to see him talking animatedly with his hands. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed that particular quirk. “Jim Gordon is in a robot Batman costume? You are missing a limb?” Dick rolled his eyes in what would have been an overdramatic fashion if the story wasn’t so absurd to start with. “I haven’t been gone long enough for things to really go this sideways, have I? What on earth happened?”

Alfred sipped his tea. “After his last encounter with the Joker, Bruce lost his memories as a side effect of dionysium healing him. And once I realized the full scale of it, I may have purposely neglected to inform him of all the facets of his previous life.”

“So… no Batman.”

“No. He is now simply Bruce Wayne.”

“What about the family?”

“He hasn’t really asked about children, so I have not disclosed much, however I’m certain he has done some investigating on his own so he must be aware of your existence. If he were to Google himself it would pop up; all of you are mentioned on his Wikipedia page. If he asks directly, I’ll tell him. I removed some more compromising pictures from the walls, and hidden some personal items from your bedrooms, but everything is still here. He’s just not looking very hard. I think he suspects that things aren’t exactly as they seem, but for now he’s accepting what he’s being told.”  Alfred knew that he really should have told Bruce more about the youths that he had taken in, but that would have involved telling him about Robin and he just couldn’t find a way to separate them at the time.

His eyes looked conflicted, but Dick nodded slowly. He may not like it but it was a scenario that Alfred knew that Dick could understand the decision he had made at the time. “Lying by omission. Bruce taught you well.”

“Who do you think he learned it from?” Alfred sighed. “The rest of his background overwhelmed him and I just got to a point where I didn’t want to distress him further. Either of us.”

Dick hums softly. “What will you tell him? If he asks?”

“A variation of the truth, I suppose. Jason and yourself are legally deceased, so I don’t think he’ll dig deep there, though he have questions about you being Nightwing since that was public because of the Crime Syndicates actions. I’ll deny any prior knowledge. Tim has been in regular contact with him, but Bruce just thinks he’s a Wayne Enterprises wunderkind, which isn’t exactly a lie. The jump to adopted son won’t be hard, especially under the circumstances of Mr. Drake’s death, and that Tim’s old enough to rationalize him not living here. Tim has said he wouldn’t mind if Bruce wants to develop a relationship if he finds out, but he’s not going to initiate it at this point. He’s letting Bruce settle in a little more.”

“And Damian?”

“I’ll say that he’s with his mother overseas.”

“Where is he really?”

“Travelling extensively, but when he’s in Gotham he has been staying in the penthouse. Goes out on patrol, sometimes with Tim or Jason or various Teen Titans, but primarily he is on his own. He’s doing better than I would have expected with the situation, but he doesn’t want to speak to his father.  I’m just rather glad that he checks in with me daily, at least by text if not a phone call.” Alfred reaches over and pats Dick’s knee gently. “He misses you.”

Instantly Dick’s face clouds over, obviously thinking about how much his absence has been felt by the family.  “I’m so sorry, Alfred.” He places his hand on Alfred’s. “For letting all of you think I was dead. I didn’t want to, but you know how Bruce is…”

“Was.”

“Yeah. But because of that you’ve been going through this alone. I should’ve been here. I could have helped.”

“I’m sure you had good reason.” Dick shrugged and stared intently at his drink, looking a little lost in his own thoughts.

A few moments passed in silence and Alfred saw Dick give himself a little shake to regroup. “How have you been doing, Alfred? This can’t be easy on you. You’re looking after him, but who is looking after you?”

“You needn’t worry about me. I’m doing as well as can be expected. It has been different at the very least. It’s been nice to see Bruce happy and healthy and not coming home bleeding every night for a change. I have a lot less in my portfolio as well.”

“You’re bored.”

“So very bored, Dick,” said Alfred dryly and Dick laughed in response. “I had forgotten what only being a butler was like. Most would find it to be a very tiresome and busy role, but after so many years of doing more and having the house run as a well-oiled machine, I don’t know what to do with myself a lot of the time. I’ve caught up with some old friends, read a great many books, but yes.  I often find myself without much to keep me stimulated.”

“I’m going to get you a kitten.”

“Don’t you dare. It would just be appropriated by Damian in any case.” Alfred paused.  As much as he appreciated Dick asking about him and being concerned, there was much that Alfred still needed to know. How on earth had they found themselves in this situation in the first place? Or was it something that Dick wouldn’t want to talk about, like Alfred and his decision about his hand? “May I ask about the incident with the Crime Syndicate?”

“You know most of it, actually. Captured. Unmasked live on TV. Died.” Alfred raised an eyebrow at Dick’s words, and received a small grimace in return. “I did die, technically, but it was only for a few minutes. Luthor revived me almost immediately.” Dick sucked in a breath. “It really was the only way. Stopping my heart did save everyone. Greater good, you know?  I can’t be too upset about it.”

Alfred reached over and gave the younger man’s shoulder a squeeze. “Oh, Dick, you absolutely can be.”

“I’m more upset about what happened afterwards. About letting everyone think I stayed dead. That was a horrible thing to do.” Dick locks eyes with Alfred. “Bruce and I are terrible people to do that to you.”

Alfred squeezes Dick’s shoulder again and then drops his hand to pick up his tea once more. “I wouldn’t say that at all. I’d say that it is unfortunate that that is what it had to come to. There couldn’t have very many viable options if that was the best that he could come up with.” While Alfred hadn’t always agreed with Bruce’s unilateral decisions that he made as Batman over the years, he had come to realize that sometimes they were necessary, and what was necessary wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t something that either Bruce or Dick would have agreed to lightly. “So where have you been, if not in your grave where I had erroneously assumed you were?”

“Spyral. Bruce suspected that they had intel on a lot of people’s secret identities and needed someone on the inside to find out how much they knew,” Dick shrugged. “My death was at a convenient time for the mission. He took advantage of the opening.”

“You’ve been a spy. That sounds like it could be quite exciting.”

“Sort of the same, actually. Less spandex. More hiding in plain sight. Lots of secrets and techy gizmos. My partner thinks it’s cute that I won’t kill people and that more than once I’ve thrown my gun at someone instead of shooting it.” Dick stretched his arms over his head and Alfred heard his shoulders pop faintly. “If anything, I’m overqualified for the job.”

“That can happen when one is trained since childhood. Was the mission successful?”

“I guess. Not as good as it could have been. I give myself a B minus. I’m not sure that it’s been worth what it cost. I’m done though. It’s over.” Dick looked out the window and there was a ghost of a smile on his face as he looked out onto the grounds. “This isn’t my first time home.”

“No?”

“Before I left, I had a huge fight with Bruce in the Cave about the mission. Massive. Destroyed the place. You almost walked in on us and he had to lock down the entrances to stop you.” Alfred instantly knew the occasion. When he had finally gotten access back to the Cave, it had been a disaster. Bruce was bleeding profusely and a Batmobile was crushed amongst much more damage. He had assumed at the time that Batman had done it all himself in a moment of raging grief but this explanation made much more sense. “I was here before they went to get Damian from Apokolips, too. I had some prime Pennyworth sandwiches that night.”

“So you haven’t seen anyone else?”

“You were my first stop. Only person who saw me on my other visits was Bruce. And Titus was pretty excited to see me. I did work a case that overlapped with something Babs was doing a couple weeks ago, but she didn’t know it was me. Or I don’t think so at least, but I really shouldn’t put it past her.”

Alfred hummed in agreement. If anyone had been able to see through whatever cover Dick was using, it would have been Barbara Gordon. “Are you back in Gotham to stay then?”

Leaning back on the sofa, Dick closed his eyes and smiled and for the first time since he arrived, Alfred got the feeling that Dick was truly relaxed.  It reminded him of soldiers who had come home from a long time away on only just realizing that his mission was over.  It was a look of calm relief. “That’s the plan.  Don’t know what I’ll do though. Nightwing was unmasked and Dick Grayson is dead. Gotham has a Batman. Time to start over again, I guess,” said Dick quietly. He opened his eyes again and locked them with Alfred. “I’m going to have to reveal myself to the family if I’m staying.”

“You may want to consider doing that part regardless. They’d appreciate it.” Dick nodded and looked away. He was still clearly struggling with what faking his death had meant to the family and the potential consequences of such. “If you wish, I think Commissioner Gordon might be relieved if a non-robotic Batman were to appear again. Damian would be pleased if you were to take on the mantle again as well.”  Dick didn’t like being Batman, and Alfred knew that better than almost anyone, but it needed to be said.  The option had to be presented.

“I’ll think about it.” Dick tapped his fingers against his cup a few times. “Do you mind if I stay in the penthouse for a bit? I’m slightly homeless.”

“At this point that’s going to be up to Damian as the primary resident, but I would expect it will be fine with him.”  Dick nodded again and a silence fell between them once more, and Alfred couldn’t help but think of other times that Dick had visited him over the years. Dick always appeared calmer here, in Alfred’s home, than he did other places where he was usually in constant motion. He was more likely to sit at rest and indulge in the quiet instead of in the manor or the penthouse. Alfred had never questioned it, wondering if it would break the spell if Dick became aware of the change in himself. Five minutes passed in silence before Alfred broke it. “Do you want to visit with Bruce? We can disguise you and come up with a reason for you to stop by.”

“I don’t know, Alfred. What is he like?”

That was a very good question.  What was this New Master Bruce like and how best to describe him? It was something that he had tried to do for others already and had struggled with it.  It was a strange position to be in; to reintroduce someone to a person that they had known for years. “He’s very much the same person at the core, but lighter. The weight of the world isn’t pushing him into darkness. The death of his parents doesn’t drive him, but their work does motivate him and he’s doing a lot of charity projects with the Wayne Foundation. He still wants to make Gotham better but is doing it in the light. He’s the person I would like to think that he would have been if they hadn’t been killed. He smiles a lot. He’s seeing a lady that he knew as a teenager who is very kind and openhearted. He’s grown a beard. And not just the usual ‘I’ve been sitting in the Cave for four days and forgot to shave’ scruff. An actual, on purpose, beard.” Dick snorts and Alfred gives him a small smirk in return. “It’s odd. He doesn’t actively remember his former life, but things that he says and does… I can see the person that I raised.”

“Such as?”

“When he first arrived, he didn’t know his history, birthdate or where his room was in the manor, but he knew that he kept his sleep attire in the closet instead of the dresser like most people do. He knew that he took milk, not cream, in his coffee. That he doesn’t like grapefruit without tasting it first. He still prefers blue pens over black pens,” Alfred could feel the smile growing on his face as he continued. “The first morning he came down for breakfast, he called me Al instead of Alfred. It isn’t usual to abbreviate the name of someone you have just met.”

Dick gave a low whistle. “That’s something that I haven’t heard him say in years. Do you think that his memories are still there, just hidden?”

It had been something that Alfred had been considering frequently over the past week. “If you had asked me that a few weeks ago I would have said no however I’m beginning to think otherwise.”

“Does he still eat burgers wrong?” Alfred could still remember the first time Dick had seen Bruce take out a knife and fork to eat a hamburger. He had been absolutely flabbergasted and had just stammered without forming real words for a few moments, before telling Bruce that he was ‘insulting to the good people of Hamburg’, and ‘why on earth would he eat sandwiches normally but then butcher a hamburger with utensils’? Bruce blamed Alfred’s influence, but Alfred had taught him nothing of the sort.

“I’ve yet to test that, though now I think that may be a good addition to my experiment. A control variable.”

Nodding, Dick exhaled slowly. “Ok. I’ll see him. This new and improved Bruce Wayne. I need to see him with my own eyes and know that he’s alright.” Alfred started to stand up but Dick put his arm out to stop him. “Tomorrow.” He raised an eyebrow and Dick pointed at Alfred’s clothes. “No jacket or dress shirt? Slippers? And I saw some dishes just sitting on the counter in the manor kitchen when I was sneaking around the grounds earlier. You are clearly off the clock today. I can tell. I’m an international super spy, you know.” Dick winked and Alfred rolled his eyes in return.

“I believe this is a good example of something that would be considered an exception.”

“Nope. It’s not life or death. I know the rules. I shouldn’t even be here uninvited.”

“I would say that coming back from the dead definitely falls into reasons allowed for a visit.”

“To visit, yes, but to have you go back into full butler mode on your day off? Not a chance. It can wait.”

“Of all the rules you choose to follow…” Sometimes Dick, along with the others, completely exasperated Alfred. Being a vigilante wasn’t an issue, but the line was drawn at potentially disturbing Alfred on his day off to reunite with Bruce? Frustrating, but in a familiar way that warmed Alfred’s heart. “Do you wish to stay the night here?”

“If it’s alright with you. I should probably see Bruce before I see the others or ask Damian about being roomies again. If not, I can go to a hotel.”

“I insist you stay with me tonight then. I have more than enough room for a wayward Robin to roost in when required.”  Alfred stands, picks up his cup and moves towards the kitchen. “Would you like something to eat? I’m feeling rather peckish myself.”

Dick shot up with his own empty cup and started to gather things off the coffee table to follow Alfred. “Let me give you a hand with that.” Wincing slightly, Dick looked a little sheepish. “Damn. Is it too soon for hand jokes?”

Alfred chuckled and waved his handless arm at Dick dismissively. “Not at all. They are quite common now. I actually should show you all the prosthetic designs with weapons attachments that Jason has been working on. He’s been calling them my ‘arm-ory’. I’d give him a round of applause on that pun, but that is a little less effective now than in the past.”

“Nice.” Dick chuckled. “Though I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t find a way to work ‘bat’ into that name.”

“He has one he’s calling the ‘bat-tering ram’. I must admit that it is one of my favourites so far.”

“And the naming legacy lives on. I’m so proud.”

Alfred looks Dick over again and thinks about how much he has changed, not just since his death, but since he was young and had first come to the manor.  The boy has grown up to become a fine man, and it was exceptional to witness. He turned and pulled the young man into another gentle hug. “I’m so happy you are back, Dick. I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

[chibinightowl]

The Adventures of Sir Timothy Drake

Link to Chapter Two

Chapter Three: A Lazy Afternoon

Tim lounged on a rock in the bright afternoon sun, overlooking a small sun-dappled stream. His few clothes were freshly washed (as was he, again) and he simply basked in the sheer feeling of being alive. After all, he’d thought he would be dead by this time today. Never in a thousand years did he think the outcome of this adventure would end in anything other than his death. But Jason, and his odd proposal, changed all that.

For that matter, what was the dragon getting out of this? He’d stated he was doing it to give him a chance to live up to his potential, but after spending some time with him, he wasn’t entirely sure that was the whole truth. If there was one thing Tim learned from his mother, it was to not accept everything at face value. As the old adage said, if it sounded too good to be true, it probably was. Still, he knew it was best to observe and form his own opinion and one day was barely enough time to formulate a well-rounded one.

Part of that was his overall lack of knowledge on dragons. There wasn’t much information on them, aside from the fiery rampages they purportedly went on and their desire for gold and treasure. Myth had a tendency to be based in truth and Jason did have a hoard. A hoard of books. Either the stories were all wrong or the dragon he encountered marched to the beat of his own drum.

The latter seemed more likely, Tim decided.

His stomach growled and below him in the stream, Jason laughed. “Patience,” he called out. “I’d like to see you fish without a line.”

“I already told you I have a line and hook in my gear, but no. You just want to show off.” Not that Tim minded the view. Jason was as bare as he was, thigh deep in the water.

“Fishing is a skill, not something to fall asleep to.”

“Well, while you’re showing off your skills to the fish, I’m going to check on my horse.” Tim rose and put his boots back on. The pasture he picketed his lovely sorrel mare in earlier this morning wasn’t far from the cave entrance. She seemed no worse for the wear, nickering softly as he approached and nuzzling at his hand.  

He led her upstream from Jason and rubbed her neck as she drank. “We’ll be here for a few more days. It’ll be a nice rest for both of us after a month on the road,” he told her.

“You always talk to mostly brainless beasts like that?”

Tim jerked his head around to see Jason leaning indolently against a tree. “An argument can be made for brainless,” he said. “But Robin here is one of the smartest horses I’ve ever trained.”

“All I see is dinner, but I don’t think you want me saying I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.” Jason grinned sharply, flashing fang as he did.

“I’d really prefer you not,” Tim replied, playing along. “I don’t feel like walking home. It took me a month of steady riding just to get here.”

“Maybe if you asked nicely, I’d let you hitch a ride.” There was a hint of a leer and Tim’s ears heated up as he made the connection that he’d technically already gone for a ride on a dragon.

Still… “You’re not eating Robin.”

Jason huffed, but it was plain to see he was joking.

Tim led Robin away from the stream and up the bank to her little pasture with the dragon trailing after them. “I guess now’s a good time to ask just how you plan on returning home with me. The nearest town with a decent livery stable is about five days ride from here.”

“More like a couple hours in the air.”

Distance and time calculations rushed through Tim’s mind and he gaped as he came up with an approximate figure. “You’re that fast?”

“In the air, yeah. It’s not as though I have to take time to safely ford a stream or go around that inconveniently placed rocky tor.”

Tim had so many questions he wanted to ask, the first and foremost being if Jason was serious about letting him go for a real ride on his back, which led into questions of what a saddle would even look like for a dragon and what kind of materials would it take to build one, not to mention what it would take to safely anchor a rider should said dragon go into a dive or even bank. But he took a deep breath and swallowed the urge, and focused on settling his horse, making sure she had plenty of line to move about.

He paused at a sudden thought and this time asked the question as it was actually relevant. “Is it safe to leave her outside?” he asked. “The weather’s fine, but are there any predators around I should be worried about?”

Jason grinned, pointedly revealing his sharp teeth. “Can’t get higher on the food chain than me. She’ll be fine.”

Tim accepted the fact at face value and they walked back to the stream. Checking his clothes, the leggings were mostly dry, so he started to dress.

“No need to put clothes on unless you want to,” Jason chimed in, following him on silent feet. “There’s no one else around here besides me and I sure as hell don’t mind.”

He kept his mouth shut and continued his battle with the leggings. Tim preferred trousers but these were easier to travel with. Besides, while Jason had no issues with wandering around bare as the day he was born, he did, even though that could be chalked up to cultural upbringing.

The dragon shrugged and knelt beside him, drawing up a thin line of already gutted fish out of the water below. “How burnt you like these?”

“Enough that I won’t get sick by eating them raw.” Tim cast about, looking for wood to light a small cook-fire with, but Jason waved him off.

“Watch and learn.” He removed one of the fish from the line, eyed it critically, and drew a short breath. A small jet of flame whooshed out when he exhaled. Tim stopped what he was doing and stared as the reality of the last day or so finally settled in. He was engaged to a dragon. A real, live, fire-breathing dragon.

“How’s that look?” Jason showed Tim the now roasted fish. All he could do was nod numbly.

Pleased, Jason set it down and picked up the second one, and then the third, roasting all three evenly. Tim forgot what he was supposed to be doing, entranced as he was by the flames. He started when he sat down and his bottom came in contact with cool stone. Jason watched him finish dressing with a bemused expression.

“How do you do that?” Tim finally questioned when his wits returned. “Is there some sort of gland that secretes a combustible oil that bursts into flame when it comes in contact with air? What about your throat? Or your mouth? Does it burn your skin at all?” Questions spilled out of his mouth, one after another as he tried to process what he’d just seen. It was all completely fascinating and he needed answers. His fingers itched for his journal to take notes, but he’d left it back in the cave.

Jason shrugged and sat back on the rock, draping his arms over his knees. “I’m not sure how it works in this form, but in my dragon form, the closest I can describe it for you is that I have a second stomach where the flame comes from. I can consciously control the muscle letting it out and how much air mixes in. The deeper the breath, the longer and hotter the flame.”

Tim scrambled over to kneel beside Jason and started poking at his mouth, prying it open to peer inside. He’d spent a good deal of time exploring it with his tongue earlier, but now he needed to see. “But the fire doesn’t hurt the inside of your mouth, right? Or your throat? How does that work considering how destructive it can be? You definitely have smoke breath though. Kind of like a chimney.”

Hands bat Tim away and he rocked back on his heels, realizing what he’d just done. He’d just stuck his fingers in a dragon’s mouth. Heat rose in Tim’s cheeks and he felt mortified. “Sorry!” he apologized. “I just…I get curious about things sometimes and can’t let go until I figure it out. I shouldn’t have done that, it was a complete invasion of your personal space and…”

Jason raised a long-nailed finger and rested it against Tim’s lips, silencing him. “Remember, it’s for that very curiosity that I’m marrying you in the first place. Just give a guy a warning next time you start shoving your fingers in his mouth, okay? At least outside the bedroom.”

Tim nodded, his eyes wide in relief as Jason didn’t appear to be upset with him.

“Good. Now eat. I can hear your stomach rumbling again.”

He was halfway done before he realized the dragon wasn’t eating. “Aren’t you hungry?” Tim asked, remembering his manners and offering up the remaining fish.

“All jokes about your horse aside, I don’t actually need to eat as often as you,” Jason replied. He’d been basking in the sun, stretched out on the stone as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Finish your fish because I want story time.”

Tim mulled over his words while he ate. He’d put it off for as long as he could even if there wasn’t a lot to say, really. His parents were, well, his parents and trying to find the right manner in which to describe them to a third party who’d just as soon step on them as look at them was difficult. When he finished eating, he washed his hands in the stream, then settled in next to where Jason was still sprawled out. He purposefully kept his eyes on the slow moving water in front of him.

“My parents are rarely at home, always traveling or spending time in the King’s court in Gotham. They fancy themselves to be well-educated and to an extent, they are. But when it comes to me, they never seem to know quite what to do…” Tim spoke about his childhood, the multitude of tutors and instructors that made more of an impact on him than anything his mother or father ever did. It still didn’t stop him from trying harder and harder to gain their approval, to feel wanted and loved.

“I was eleven when Sir Richard arrived to teach me fencing. He was fresh from King Bruce’s court and had barely earned his spurs. But in my eyes, he was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, both inside and out. He was the one who saw something special in me rather than just some nobleman’s son and became my first real friend.”

Sir Richard Grayson wasn’t the typical knight. For one, he was born a commoner, the son of traveling performers no less. But a tragic accident during a performance before King Bruce granted the young boy an opportunity to rise further than his low birth would ever allow and he took it. Dick was talented beyond belief and thrived when instructing others. Their friendship worked in both directions too, the small and bookish Tim instructing his mentor just as often as the older man bent him into a pretzel.

“When I was knighted by King Bruce, it was quite possibly the first time I’ve ever seen my parents appear proud of me.” Tim toyed with a small stick, twisting it around between his fingers as he remembered that day. His mother’s smile, a real one for a change that actually reached her pale blue eyes, so like his own. His father, his usual dour expression relaxed and a faint smile on his face. Neither were very expressive people, so this was joy and jubilation for them. “I was sent to war with Dick for a time after that, and later on a diplomatic mission to Kandor, accompanying the King’s Lord Marshal, Sir James Gordon. Dick had just married his wife Kori, so it was my first time out in the world without him.”

Kandor was where he’d met his best friend, Kon-el, the eldest son of the King of Kandor, Kal-el. The two young men became close friends during the extended visit, which became even longer when an early snow blocked the passes through the mountains, leaving the Gotham contingent stuck for the winter. It was with Kon that Tim learned he enjoyed the pleasures of a man’s body as much as he did a woman’s.

As he explained this, smoke started streaming from Jason’s nose, short puffs that hung in the still air. The dragon rose to his feet and paced around to disperse it, but Tim stopped speaking to wait him out. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the man was agitated.

“Something wrong?” he finally spoke up.

Jason waved him off, coming to a stop at the edge of the rock where it overlooked the stream. The intricate pattern of his tattoos wended their way over his shoulder blades, joining together seamlessly over the upper part of his back. Every time Tim’s gaze fell on the dragon, he appeared more wild and exotic than before. They hadn’t even known each other all that long, but Tim knew he was already entranced and under the dragon’s spell.

“It’s nothing,” Jason said flatly. “Keep going.”

Tim shot him another concerned look, uncertain exactly what it was in his story that set him off. If he knew, then he could avoid the topic in the future. “For the first time in my life, I truly enjoyed myself. The freedom of being a few hundred leagues from home was a heady rush and Prince Kon was determined to help me along that path every step of the way…”

The two of them became thick as thieves, but for all of that, they knew even then that they were better off as friends, especially since Kal was trying to arrange a marriage between his son and Helena, the daughter of Bruce and his consort, Queen Selina. Four years later though, the marriage still hadn’t happened, but Tim wasn’t at court often enough to find out why. All Kon’s letters would say was that Helena didn’t want to be married yet, which was fine with him, to which he’d then go on to wax poetic over the cousin of Queen Diana of Themyscira, Cassandra.

“That’s all well and good, but I don’t give a shit about court politics and intrigues,” Jason interjected, laying down again and shifting around so that his head was nestled in Tim’s lap. His eyes glowed blue-green in the daylight. “Even though your best friend better keep it in his pants unless he wants to accidently start a war over a spurned bride.” There was an edge to his voice, and Tim could tell he wanted to say something else but didn’t.

This didn’t start happening until he mentioned Kon. If Jason were human, he’d say he was jealous. But he couldn’t be. It made no sense at all, so Tim brushed it aside.

“I’ve warned him already. Kal, Bruce, and Diana are all friends, so I doubt it would come to that, but better safe than sorry.” He idly ran his fingers through Jason’s wavy hair as he continued with his story, the dragon already rumbling in contentment from the simple gesture. “Anyways, my parents and I didn’t see each other for a couple years and when I came home, they packed up and left almost a week after I arrived.”

The next few years played out much the same. Tim grew in status so as to be one of Bruce’s favored advisors as he didn’t have the same penchant as the younger knights to always rush into battle. But he preferred to be at home whenever possible, and so he took up the duties and responsibilities there that would normally fall to the Duke in his parents’ absence. His own desire to study and learn often took second fiddle to these and he grumbled, typically to Dick or Kori, whenever his parents would return as they were a constant source of frustration for him.

“It’s been a battle of wills these last few years,” Tim explained, the recounting of his story reaching its end. “I never seem to do enough in their eyes and I’m constantly trying to please them in order for them to acknowledge me. During my last argument with my mother, she informed me that I’d had my chance at court to make something of myself and further the family name, but all I was doing now was wasting it and dragging it through the mud with my scribbles.” The sour taste in his mouth that always accompanied his mother’s words over his studies was slightly mollified by Jason’s low grumble. “Before I left, I made it a point to hide all my old journal pages and sketches because on the off-chance I made it home alive, I didn’t think they’d be waiting for me. I still don’t for that matter.”

Jason’s grumble deepened into a true growl. “I already hate your mother.”

“Don’t. She takes out her frustrations on me and my father because neither of us have the desire to permanently move to Gotham and take up residence there. Seriously though, I think when we return home, I’m going to have her do just that.” Tim shook his head and sighed. “I almost feel bad for my father sometimes. He’s not a bad man, but he’s got a wife who’s a shrew.”

“Arranged marriage?”

“Yes. Just like the ones I’ve had contracts drawn up for, only for Mother to make Father back out at the last minute.” A fact he was rather pleased about now as he snuck a glance at the dragon still making himself comfortable in his lap.

Jason’s growl settled back into a low purr. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to share you with anyone.”

Tim laughed and tapped Jason lightly on the nose. “You do know that human marriages are supposed to be monogamous, right?”

“Emphasis on supposed to. I’m pretty sure I’ve bedded a few women who weren’t feeling satisfied at home,” the dragon snickered and opened his glowing eyes again. “But yes, I do. I won’t go fucking around on you while we’re married if you don’t. Not that I can see why you would, I mean, seriously. Look at me.” He stretched and arched his back, showing off the long, muscular line of his body, the thick thighs and strong calves.

“I haven’t been able to stop,” Tim admitted softly.

“I know,” Jason purred and reached up a darkly nailed hand to draw Tim closer to him. “Why don’t you come here and get a closer look?”

“Why don’t I?”

[damijon-supersons]

I may have submitted this fic request before but the fic would be about the anniversary of Damian's death coming up and jon is there to make him feel better.

Oh man, this was hard. Damian isn’t exactly good with his emotions so making a dramatic dialogue for him was…tough… XD

Anyway I hope you enjoy this.

Also, sorry if I take like, ages to do prompts. I cant bring myself to write them unless I can think of a cool thing to make it pop.

Superboy and Robin were just about done patrolling from the rooftops when Damian’s voice stopped Jon in his tracks.

“Hey, Jon…”

Jon turned to look at Damian. His friend never called him by his nickname unless something serious came up…or if Damian was teasing him. But Damian didn’t seem like he was in a joking mood.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jon asked cautiously.

“Go on patrol without me tomorrow,” Damian said, a hint of melancholy in his tone. “I have business to attend to.”

“What business?” Jon asked again.

“Damian business,” Damian emphasized with a bit of irritation.

“I thought we agreed that Damian business is also my business?” Jon complained.

“Not this time,” Damian said firmly. He fired his grapnel and leaped off the roof’s ledge, leaving Jon behind.

***

The air was still, save for the soft pitter-patter of raindrops on Jon’s umbrella. The clouds were a murky gray, almost as if the sky was giving off one huge sad sigh. Water seeped in through Jon’s red sneakers, and he remembered a book he’d read where the thirteen-year old detective protagonist said that the feeling of walking with wet socks was the worst. Jon agreed with him.

He walked up the stone steps and searched for the right footpath. All around him, headstones jutted out of the grass like rows of very depressing teeth. It didn’t take long for Jon to find the right place. It was just a simple patch of grass with a seven-foot-tall obelisk as a headstone. He’d have thought that Bruce Wayne, of all people, would have a fancy mausoleum or something built for his family, and not just another square patch of soil like everyone else in Gotham. It wasn’t exactly the most cheerful thing to ask Batman.

In front of the obelisk, just as Jon had expected, was Damian. He was wearing a simple black shirt and track pants, as if he were just another jogger who just happened to detour into a depressing graveyard. He stared intently at the obelisk, whose inscription looked so faded that there were barely any letters left.

Jon rolled his eyes. Damian didn’t have an umbrella and his usually well-groomed hair was wet and plastered to his forehead. Typical, Jon thought. There’s no better way to look miserable than to visit a graveyard on a rainy day without an umbrella. He approached the boy, but Damian didn’t pay him any attention. Jon put the umbrella over them both.

“Hey,” Jon called out cautiously.

“Hmm,” Damian grunted.

“You’ll catch a cold,” Jon chided.

“How did you find me?” Damian asked without lifting his head.

“You have three brothers and a super awesome butler that I could ask. It wasn’t hard.” Jon hoped that Damian would smile. Damian still looked disinterested.

“Hrrn,” Damian grunted again.

“Soooo,” Jon began, unsure what to say, “That’s where…you were…uh…”

“This was my grave, yes,” Damian said in a monotone. “I was buried here when I…died.” Damian sounded like he almost choked. “Today’s the third year since that day.”

Jon bit his lip as Damian trailed off and went silent. Finally, he couldn’t stand it.

“Come on, let’s get out of the rain.” He grabbed Damian’s hand and dragged him out of the graveyard, ignoring the latter’s indignant protests.

***

Jon’s first thought was to try a café, but he didn’t think Damian would feel like talking if there were any other people around. He needed a place where they could be alone and relaxed. He thought of the quietest, most serene place he could think of. That’s how he ended up flying Damian all the way to his family’s former farm in Hamilton County. Damian didn’t even complain when Jon carried him in his arms, much to Jon’s surprise.

The city gave way to vast plains blanketed by yellows and oranges. The rain hadn’t reached the county, and the autumn breeze swirled with the scent of leaves and hay. Jon set Damian down under the shade of a huge oak tree—his favorite spot on the farm. Damian remained silent as he leaned on the massive trunk. Jon settled beside him and kicked off his sneakers. The texture of the papery grass between his toes always gave him a comforting sensation, a vague memory of home and warmth.

“So, do you always sulk alone on your death anniversary?” Jon asked, trying to sound light-hearted.

“It’s not the kind of thing you forget easily,” Damian said.

Both boys looked at each other when they realized the same thing.

“You sound like Jason!” Jon giggled.

“Now I feel even worse,” Damian said, but he sounded like he was trying to stifle a laugh. The air between them felt lighter.

“Dick told me, you know,” Jon began, “about how it happened. How everyone mourned. How your dad punched Darkseid in the nose to bring you back to life, which was way awesome, by the way.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly how it went down,” Damian smirked. Then, he adopted a more serious expression. “I was immature. I believed myself unbeatable, I went out of my way to find trouble and fight, to prove myself the best. My hubris got me killed.”

“You don’t need to be so philosophical about it,” Jon said offhandedly.

“No,” Damian said casually. “It was actually literal, in a way. I was killed by my own adult clone, one that still held on to its beliefs of superiority and other nonsense from my mother and the League of Assassins.

“I’ve gotten better,” he continued. “Now I know that it’s useless to die trying to prove you’re better than anyone. You should die for something worth fighting for.”

“Idiot,” Jon chided. “Have you tried not dying at all? Maya and Starfire both told me you were practically suicidal, going off trying to sacrifice yourself to anything every chance you get!”

“I’m not afraid to die,” Damian declared.

Jon sighed and stared off into the distance. He watched a flock of birds flying to the west, and the breeze kicked up a few leaves that settled on Jon’s hair.

“Back then, before either of us was born, my dad died, too. He was fighting Doomsday for the first time.” Jon sounded anxious, as if he was glad he wasn’t alive when it happened.

“My mom took it hard. So did everyone who knew my dad. His friends, relatives, and everyone in the world ever saved by Superman.”

“What’s your point?” Damian asked.

“My dad told me that while he was fighting, he was scared. He was terrified.”  Jon said quietly.

“Superman was scared?” Damian repeated, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah. He told me that no great warrior ever goes into battle without being scared. He was scared what would happen if he didn’t fight, or if he lost. He fought because he was scared he’d lose his family to Doomsday. He needed to stay alive to protect us, he didn’t want to die. But in the end, he did.”

“You are not very good at cheering people up,” Damian mused.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Jon said adamantly, “it’s okay to be scared to die. You should be, and you should try your hardest to stay alive for the people that love you.” He gave Damian a meaningful look.

Damian considered his words before he replied. “My life is forfeit to my father’s cause. I’m his heir.”

Jon shook his head. “You’re not your dad. Your life is yours. Have you even talked to your dad for longer than ten seconds? He’s not obvious about it, but he just wants what’s best for you. I bet, if you told him you didn’t want to be Robin anymore, he wouldn’t mind, and he’d even help you find a school and stuff!”

At the mention of ‘school’, Damian’s face wrinkled. “You presume too much, Jon. Besides, outside of being Robin, I have nothing.”

“Sure you do!” Jon huffed. “You have brothers, friends, family…you have me.”

Damian looked Jon in the eye, his expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

“Why do you care so much? What am I to you?”

Damian’s gaze was so intense that Jon had to look away. He started picking the grass.

“You’re someone that I’d protect no matter what,” Jon said softly. “I’d fight even if my hands go numb until you get it in that thick head of yours to stop throwing away your life like it’s your answer to everything—until you learn just how important your life is to people who care about you.”

“And if I did?” Damian asked quietly. His shoulders relaxed and his hands fell to his sides.

“Then…” Jon gulped. The sheer honesty of the moment made his heart pound in his chest. “I wouldn’t have to be so scared anymore.”

Damian felt Jon’s hand on top of his own. He held it and gently squeezed.  His friend’s words echoed in his mind: the greatest warriors fight because they’re scared to lose the ones they love.

The two boys spent a few minutes just listening to the oak’s branches rustling in the breeze.

“Don’t tell Jason,” Damian finally said. He sounded much more cheerful.

“That you were getting touchy about dying even more than he does?” Jon asked with a grin. “Maybe for a double scoop of triple chocolate ice cream, I will.”

Damian rolled his eyes. He was smiling.

“Deal.” 

[cat-the-dragon]

This Last Thing I Could Do For You

I guess most of my followers already read  Even Now We Feel The Shape Of Your Absence, that I’d posted partly because of @camsthisky​, and partly because of the @nanowrimo​.

This time, I’m blaming @chibinightowl​ for inspiring me to write this prequel (still meant to be read after the other one), both her and @comicroute​ beta-ed for me, so thanks to them

Read on Ao3

-The opening of the Will is scheduled at 19:00 this Monday in the Batcave.-

Jason stared at the message. The Will. Whose will? In the Batcave, a will was being read.

It had been sent by Barbie's Oracle number, so the probability of a prank was in negative percentages.

One of the Bats had died, and Jason hadn't been told. He’s always the last one to hear about these things.

Oh, god, what if it was Alfred?

Hands just barely not trembling, Jason typed his reply. -Who died- No question mark, somehow, it seemed more disrespectful than sending a message without proper punctuation.

-Red Robin- Came back ten seconds later.

Jason stared at the two words. He'd expected relief if it wasn't Alfred, but learning it was the kid he still held a grudge against without a proper reason was actually worse.

Jason arrived at the Cave at 7 pm sharp on Monday. He was there for the Will, not to socialize.

He'd had the time to look up what had happened.

It had been surprisingly easy.

Red Robin Death and Red Robin Suicide were all over the internet. There was a shaky cell-phone video of the hero hurling to the ground and going splat that had gone viral enough that even the Bats couldn't seem to get rid of it, and then dozen of witness declarations on diverse discussion boards.

The report he'd hacked on the Batcomputer said that Red Robin's gear had been in perfect working order, he didn't seem to have suffered any head injury before the fall, and his blood tox screening came back perfectly clear.

So.

Suicide.

Somehow Jason felt bad.

He wondered if he'd had anything to do with Repla- Tim's decision.

Dickster had told him, "Tim was your greatest fan. I saw him talking to your Memorial Case in the cave, Jay."

He wondered. Would things be different if he'd actually apologized for beating the kid up on top of Titan’s Tower and shooting him that time?

Jason knew how much having a role-model betray you hurt, and he'd been the one who did that to Tim, hadn't he? Would he have gone suicidal if Bruce systematically went after him with the intention to cause maximum harm instead of just reactively hurting him?

Who was he kidding, Jason was already a bit opportunistically suicidal even with just the status-quo at hand.

He didn't have the time to dwell more, because the big screen flickered with a video as soon as Bruce saw him arrive. (He was the last one, good.)

"Hey," the costumed and masked Red Robin on the screen started. "Seeing the probability of me dying, on or off the field, I figured I should make a vigilante version of my will. That way I can get into the type of questions that definitely couldn't be stated or explained on the civilian one that I left with the lawyer."

The Tim on the screen (not the one resting under a sheet in a refrigerated dome in the medbay that Jason had only glimpsed so far) turned a bit more somber. "I gave this video to Oracle. I figured a video would be the easier to confirm as genuine and not forced. The instructions were to get everyone possible to open it, but do it within two days at most, even if some were missing. That way you have a forewarning of my preferences before you start sorting my civilian death."

"Good bye everyone. B, if you are watching this alone because you couldn't wait for the others, or got nosy and I'm still alive while you see this, I'm very disappointed in you, close this video immediately!" Red Robin made a stern frowny face, and despite the solemn atmosphere in the cave, a ripple of amusement ran through the assembled heroes.

Jason for his part stomped down on his matching laugh to shoot Bruce a suspicious look. Did he tense? Had he actually tried it?

"So, I guess first off are my cases... I pre-made an override command in all my digital systems that will transfer everything to my old Robin session in the Batcomputer. I tend to use informatics a lot, so there should be everything you need on it to finish whatever I am doing at the moment of my death. It might be time sensitive, so I hid the transfer key in the Batcave, you'll find it under the detachable R emblem of my first Robin design in the display cave. It's a microchip, you might need a couple of minutes to find it, then connect under my old session and launch the program that pops up, it'll do everything on it's own. DO NOT fiddle with the code or launch it from anything but my old session on the Batcomputer, it'll destroy all my data. That's a very safeguarded override."

"Even then, some things are password protected. I put the list of encrypted passwords and corresponding files under the passenger side floor-mat of the Batmobile. Red Hood's Batmobile." Probably the one he boosted the tires from what feels like a lifetime ago. Good concealment of information in case an enemy got the Will on Tim's part, that.

"The encryption key is written on a post it note in Nightwing's favorite book from when he was still wearing the disco suit." Jason shot a look at Dick, who had a pensive expression on, trying to remember, surely.

"Legacy comes next, I guess? Red Robin was Hood's so if he wants to take it back now that I'm dead he can, I'd rather you didn't give it to D-Robin or any youngster after me, though. It’s not been around long enough to absolutely need to get passed down, and frankly, if I die in it, it would be a pretty unlucky omen for the next one.”

And that doused the little bit of levity that seeing a sassy Red Robin had introduced. Jason couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the sheet covered exam table.

Talk about unlucky.

One thing was sure, Jason would not be donning Red Robin again, thank you.

“The map of all my personal safe houses should be in the download with my cases, feel free to help yourselves to them or my gear. I mean all of you, no one gets to claim everything for themselves without asking the others if they want it.”

“Now my other Will also says this, but I wish to be cremated. And if possible not have all the ashes at the same place. I know it is tempting to forego it and wish for another miraculous resurrection like for J. But considering the interest Ra’s has been paying me, I really, really prefer not to run any risk of him ever getting his hands on my corpse.”

Tim looked at the camera fixedly. “I know what you’re thinking, B. You’re thinking you could protect my grave. Don’t. You’re not immortal, Ra’s is. What about fifty years from now? Will you still be able to protect my grave then? I prefer not to run the risk, so please respect my wishes on this.”

Bruce got up abruptly and stormed off.

Jason shot a venomous glare at his back.

He couldn’t even handle that? Tim had definitely been low balling that one because Bruce’s ability to protect graves? BULLSHIT. He hadn’t even noticed him vacating his.

Tim spoke for a couple more minutes. Minor things about who could have what, and his wish not to get a memorial case in the Batcave, and what to give to the Titans. There were instructions about keeping an eye on his teammates, especially Superboy, right after his death. He  offset that by saying he made a will for the Titans too and that they would know what he wanted them to do after he died.

There weren’t person by person messages for the Bats, Tim apparently treated them as a single entity, or he’d made a series of personal messages independently from the general one.

Jason wasn’t paying much attention by the time the screen went black, because his mind had gotten stuck on Tim’s demand for a cremation. He understood that all too well. And more importantly, Bruce’s reaction to it.

Was he getting paranoid?

This suspicion, that Bruce storming off might be because he wanted to falsify the civilian will, stuck with him though.

Would Bruce be that much of an asshole?

What a question.

Yes, yes he would. When Bruce thought he knew best, he steamrolled everyone to force his version of ‘the best thing to do’, disregarding everyone’s logical reasons or emotions.  Jason actually wondered if he was even aware people other than him routinely had feelings.

He looked around himself at the other Bats in the cave. Bruce wasn’t hiding anywhere he could see, but everyone else lingered, making clusters, crying, or noticeably being in the process of not-crying.

Damian was standing stock still, staring at the screen vacantly, obviously still deep in shock or denial.

Everyone else was mixed bags. They had seen death so often that they skipped entire stages of grief all the time, though for that one, Jason did foresee everyone getting bogged down on guilt floor for ages. He knew he would.

Suicides had the tendency to do that to surviving families after all.

Resigned to the idea of having to be the bad guy, Jason stalked past Blondie crying in the arm of a very stiff Cassandra and stopped in front of Barbara.

She extracted her blotchy face from Dick’s abs and sniffed. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.

“Where is B?”

Dick snarled, jumping over the wheelchair to put himself between Barbara and Jason. “Now is not the time to be petty. Tim is dead! He... He’s dead, he’s not coming back, he’s dead!”

So he was the bad guy. He was okay with it but as the one who’d gotten royally fucked by a Lazarus Pit, he’d given himself the mission to ensure Red Robin was burned the way he asked to. Being the good guy or the bad guy was not important. Keeping Bruce from disrespecting his third Robin’s wishes was.

So he said the bad guy’s thing. “Yes, he’s dead. And he wanted to stay that way and not become a Lazarus puppet like me, so I really hope I am wrong in my suspicions, but I need to know where Bruce is to be sure of that.”

Barbara stared at him around Dick, wide eyed. “He wouldn’t.”

“Right. And he wouldn’t label my memorial with ‘a good soldier’ either, then?” Jason spat back.

“This isn’t about you!” Dick yelled.

“No, it isn’t!” Jason bellowed back, agry to be accused of making Red Robin’s death about him. “It’s about Tim wanting to be cremated and Bruce going missing after the unofficial Will stated part of the content of the official one that’s with a lawyer. A part Bruce doesn’t like. How well can a law office hold up to the Batman?”

“How dare you suggest… You hateful!” Dick was losing steam. And the whole cave was deathly silent except for the unhappy rustle of disturbed bats on the ceiling. Everyone was staring at them. “...Spiteful… You!”

“Prove me wrong, then.” Jason gestured to the computer. “Tell me where Bruce is.”

Barbara blew out a loud breath. “I so hope you are wrong.” She wheeled herself to the console, letting Dick try to protect empty air.

“So do I.” Jason stood tall, arms crossed next to Barbara as she chillingly narrated her finds. No missing cars or bikes. Jason pointed that Bruce had gone up the stairs in his Batman costume. She gritted her teeth and looked for him on the video surveillance.

Dick was staring at him like he was a monster. And frankly, he would give his right hand to be wrong, but someone had to doubt the Bat, and if no one else would, Jason would be that person. He infinitely prefered being wrong and looking like the a heartless monster at Tim’s will reading, than be right but not speaking up and seeing Bruce prove himself to be the inconsiderate asshole once more.

“No,” Barbara whispered. “No.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. The pinpoint that represented Bruce was heading straight for Gotham. Which wasn’t that bad per-se. Maybe he was planning to beat some poor schmucks up to make himself feel better, but as far as disproving his fears went, it wasn’t great. (The fact that he had gone out in full Batman from the Manor’s entrance and apparently decided to go by foot wasn’t saying great things about his state of mind either.)

He stood still and silent, watching Bruce move on the map. Waves of murmurs floated around as some of the Bats left for their patrol and others watched along with Dick, Barbara and Jason.

When Bruce made it to the block of Tim’s lawyer, Jason decided to fuck the benefit of the doubt and stop dawdling.

His plan was already forming as he turned away from the computer screen and jogged up the cave’s stairs.

First, he went to the garage.

Slashing every single tire might have been a little overdone, but Bruce was filthy rich, he’d get over it.

Second were the supplies.

He didn’t have a precise idea of exactly what would be needed, but he figured he could always buy what he needed as he went. The most important tools for the first phase was cooling stuff.

He pilfered a big comforter from a guest room and filled it with as many ice cube packs as he could find in the upstairs freezer, then he trudged back down the cave’s stairs with his loot.

Barbara, Alfred and Damian were the only ones still in the cave when Jason came back down. He figured Dick must have led the few stragglers on a mission to go talk some sense into the big dumb Bat.

Jason didn’t like to put his trust in that. If he wanted stuff done, he might as well do it himself.

The trio stared at him and his comforter bag. He ignored them.

He did the same with all the cooling packs in the medbay freezer as he had upstairs.

He also pilfered half the emergency liquid Batfunds from their hiding place.

Third was the Batgarage.

He almost expected to be stopped, to have to fight his way through, but instead he was met with watchful silence when he stalked to one of the Batmobiles, opened the trunk, collapsed the back seats and spread his catch on the floor.

Then Jason methodically moved on the hangar for the fliers and plastic-ed up every single landing gear. Barbara put a hand on Damian’s shoulder and asked him to push her to the elevator because she wanted a snack.

Damian must have been pretty out of it not to see through the transparent excuse. Or maybe he was experiencing disconnect. He blinked at the systematic destruction Jason was wreaking upon their vehicles, then at Barbie, and obeyed without a word.

The Bat-tires were all a lot sturdier than the civilian ones, so slashing wouldn’t work that well.

Instead, with a lingering look at Alfred to see if he’d try to stop that much, Jason took out the Bat-impact-wrench and went to work removing every single wheel and kicking them over the edge of the precipice into the man-made lake Batman kept his marine float in.

Once only his chosen Batmobile was standing on all its wheels, he went for part four.

Fourth was Tim.

He strolled up to Tim’s body, opened the refrigerating dome, and lifted the sheet covered lifeless body up in his arms. He noticed Alfred bustling around. Still, he didn’t move to stop him when he went back to the trunk and deposited Tim in it.

Considering how the body had been kept very cool since his death (probably to make it easier to disguise his civilian death to a later date) rigor mortis had barely set in and it was fairly easy to maneuver him into lying on his side so he would fit inside the limited space.

Jason folded the blanket back up over Tim and closed the trunk. This was when he noticed Alfred in much more practical clothes than he ever thought he’d see the old man in, holding a backpack and opening the passenger door.

He stared at the old man, but when he was only met with a very flat stare, he shrugged, climbed into the driver seat and drove off. It was nice to see someone else understood about respecting final wishes and all that.

Fifth was distraction.

In the morning, once he estimated himself far enough from Gotham, Jason bought a replacement minivan with tinted windows at a shady second hand shop. Alfred helped him transfer the contents of the Batmobile, and then they left with their new vehicle.

Jason left the Batmobile in a well frequented parking lot with the keys taped to a side mirror for any daring youth to take it on a joyride whenever they found it. Alfred didn’t look thrilled by his choice, but didn’t protest either.

When Alfred asked him what he planned on doing, Jason started considering his options besides ‘steal the body and run’. Speaking the possibilities out loud helped him think them through too.

Breaking into a funeral house and commandeering the crematorium, although easier, would leave an obvious trail. If not on the security surveillance, at least in the fuel gauge. There was no way it wouldn’t be reported and investigated, and even if nothing came up from it, it would make Tim’s civilian death with a missing body much more suspicious than it needed to be.

Tim was so loyal to the Bats and their secret, that even the fleeting possibility that Jason might be too careless and accidentally harm his successor's cover made him sick to his stomach.

Alfred nodded at Jason’s exposed doubts. “Well,” he mused. “I guess humans have been building funeral pyres since the Roman empire, and they didn’t have gasoline then. I suspect young master Tim would have appreciated such a send-off.”

Jason swallowed. “Would he?” he asked, suddenly desperate to learn more about the person he’d just gone against Batman to cremate.

Alfred smiled sadly. “Yes, I believe so. He forced Master Bruce to watch the original Star Wars trilogy once.” Jason smiled, wondering how he’d even managed that feat, but didn’t ask, not wanting to interrupt the tale. “Master Tim was so emotional at the funeral for Anakin Skywalker. I could see the awkwardness radiating out of Master Bruce. It was clear he didn’t quite know what to do.”

In the following day of driving, they had to make a few pit stops to buy more ice-cubes and dump the old ones so the body they were transporting didn’t start to warm up and putrefy.

Jason guessed the result would be the same either way, but he really prefered to be able to give Tim as much dignity in his funeral as he could. And as far as he was concerned, it included not letting him start to smell like a pile of garbage.

They picked a deserted beach at the foot of a ragged cliff, hoping the relief would hide their fire from the watchful eyes of fire departments, and waited for the evening to start moving their newly bought supplies and Tim.

There was quite a bit of wood, charcoal, and acetone bottles to move over a pretty long way, but Jason was strong and had quite a bit of endurance, so he took care of it while Alfred built the pyre.

When all the supplies were moved, and once the night was well fallen, Jason finally brought Tim. He was still fairly cold, and didn’t actually smell.

Feeling like this had all gotten much more real, Jason carefully wrapped Tim in the comforter, letting a tuft of hair poke out to make the human shape look more like a voluntary blanket burrito than a carpet wrapped corpse.

He reviewed his excuse: Yes, my brother fell asleep during the car ride. He never sleeps so I didn’t feel like waking him. I couldn’t let him in the car though. It’s okay, he barely weighs anything.

Jason didn’t see anyone, but the cover story had already started to make him shift his way of seeing things. Brothers…He shook himself off and hurried over to Alfred.

Now that Tim was out, they had to make haste. Getting caught with a corpse was absolutely not desirable.

“I know it’s stupidly romantic, but I can’t help thinking we should burn him with his weapon,” Jason said, sighing while dousing the comforter in acetone. (They should probably douse Tim too, but that was something neither of them could bring themselves to do, pouring acetone on a family member.)

Alfred smiled faintly and opened his backpack to pull a small cylinder out. Jason reached for it and unfolded it.

They quickly put Tim in position on top of the fire accelerant doused pyre. (Jason spared a moment to be thankful Tim had already been cut out of his fire retardant nomex uniform and dressed in cotton civilian clothes. He didn’t voice it, though, because he was fairly sure Alfred had been the one to do it and it must have been incredibly harrowing for him.)

Alfred took out a camcorder and a tripod and started recording the funeral pyre. It wasn’t meant as an archive, too risky, but as an inclusion, so the rest of the family would be able to see it at least once if they chose to.

Jason stared at Tim’s too pale dead face.

He had been suppressing his knowledge that Tim’s ‘body’ was actually Tim’s corpse. He’d been compartmentalising, and he knew it, thinking like Tim was in some sort of coma instead of dead. Even when he’d been browsing the barbecue section of the mall for the pyre’s material, he’d still been treating it like he was doing Tim a simple favor, rather than organizing a funeral.

Because he needed to be functional, because he couldn’t break down.

At last, Alfred and Jason folded the acetone doused comforter over Tim’s body and threw ropes over the pyre to anchor it down. (Apparently, Roman pyres sometimes ejected the person placed on top of it because of the abrupt heat, and they prefered to avoid this risk.)

Finally, they lit a couple of torches and touched them to the pile, lighting it up.

The pyre went up in flame with a wroof.

Jason retreated out of the camera’s recording field and huddled down.

That was it.

No more Tim.

Alfred, bless him, noticed his somber mood and gently rubbed his back as they watched the initial acetone fueled fury recede down to a more reasonable wood and coal fueled one.

“You should cry,” Jason rumbled.

“So should you, young man,” Alfred hummed back.

“Somehow I can’t,” he admitted, staring at the brazier. “But the kid deserves to have someone cry at his funeral. You knew him, you should do it.”

Jason felt numb. The heat of the fire was drying his lips and stinging his cheeks and forehead, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, let alone move away. Not with the burnt flesh smell and occasional explosion as the heat started to pulverise bones.

Even as tears started sliding down Alfred’s weathered old cheeks, the disconnect wouldn’t go.

He was still thinking about what if someone came. What if the fire department came by and noticed they were illegally getting rid of a body.

Thankfully, no one came by for the four hours it took for the fire to burn itself down to embers.

Somehow, Alfred had fallen asleep in the sand, dried tear tracks marring his face. It had been a very long 36 hours, after all, and Jason had no idea how long the man had been awake before he came in the cave to hear Tim’s will.

Jason didn’t wake him and raked the coals closer together with a long branch, looking out for any long bone or unburnt flesh that would need to be pushed closer to the embers.

There were some bone fragments, but thankfully no flesh, and once Jason had managed to push everything closer together, he took the last bottle of fire accelerant, poured it in a long handled steel pan and carefully dumped it on, then jumped out of the way of the new tongue of fire.

One hour later, Alfred still fast asleep, he carefully scooped the top layer of ashes into the big glass jar they had bought for them.

Once it got impossible to catch the ashes without taking sand with it, Jason took out the garbage bags and started scooping all the mixed sand and ashes he could into them.

Only then did he shake Alfred awake.

They silently took everything back to the van, drove a few miles to a wild looking patch of forest and buried the ashy sand.

“So. What now?” Alfred asked, looking at the Jar.

“Now,” Jason said with a sigh, “I drop you off at a train station so you can go back home to Gotham, and I get to burying these ashes in different locations.”

Alfred smiled sadly. “It’s probably for the best. It’ll give you boys the opportunity to spend some time together. Take him somewhere nice, hear me? I always thought the boy needed to go on vacations more.”

Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Promise. Only the best places for little Red.”

Alfred looked equally choked up.

They climbed back in the van.

“Take care, young Master Jason,” Alfred whispered along with a rare hug in the deserted train station. “No matter the circumstances, it was good seeing you again.” Then he looked down at the Jar. “I’m counting on you to keep that one out of trouble, young man.”

And… Here were the tears again, Jason shuffled awkwardly while Alfred dabbed at his eyes.

He ran away as soon as the train came in the station, rather than stay for a last tearful goodbye.

“Well,” Jason told the Jar when he turned the key in the ignition. “Ready for a last adventure, Timbo?”

There wasn’t, Jason thought as he sieved the ashes into a mixing bowl to catch the chunky bits of charred bone, anything that could drive the reality of someone’s death in more deeply than having to crush their bones to a dust using seemingly innocent kitchen ustensils...

It took him a couple of hours to get the bones into fine enough a powder as to be totally inconspicuous in the granite mortar he’d bought especially for this purpose. He was so glad he’d managed to hide the chunks from Alfred, it wasn’t something he wanted the old butler to even have to think about.

“So? Do you like it here?” Jason asked Tim’s Jar.

He was aware that Tim was dead and talking to his ashes looked an awful lot like madness, but to be fair, next to the Pit madness, any other form of it was an improvement.

“I like it. It’s nice. I think you’ll be happy here.” With a small smile, Jason reached for his shovel and started digging.

Once the hole was a couple of feet deep, Jason knelt by it and dumped a handful of ashes in.

Well, ashes and some sand. Most air travel companies didn’t let funeral urns travel in the passenger cabin. Jason had used colorful sands to make Tim’s Jar look more like a souvenir decorative sand bocal than a jar of human ashes. He was sure Tim didn’t mind going undercover, he’d been trained to it, after all.

When he was done shovelling soil back in the hole, Jason sprawled next to it, basking in the beauty of the spot he’d chosen to be yet another of Tim’s graves.

“So, where to next?” he asked his deceased brother. When, predictably, no answer came, he smiled. “I think you’d like Tibet. Let’s go to Tibet. Maybe I can find somewhere you like in the Himalayas.”

Jason stared at the hole. The last one he’d have to dig after what seemed like a hundred of them (it really wasn’t though).

The scenery was pretty perfect, blue sky over a lush green mountain, not too high, and still pretty wild. It went well with the rest of his string of small graves.

With a grimace, he tipped the small glass bocal (he’d switched the Jar out for smaller containers as he went) over the hole.

A part of him was saying to only dump half of the ashes down, to keep going for a bit more.

Finally, tears welled up.

He knew he hadn’t actually needed to divide the ashes half as much as he had. It had been an excuse, to be able to hold onto his little brother for a bit more time. Not that he’d ever been much of a brother to him, except for this one last time when it mattered most.

The same part of him asked again if they did have to bury all the ashes. He could keep an ounce of them after all, keep a bit of it, for memory.

Jason shook the bocal to dislodge the last of the dusts in it and scooped a handful of soil over the ashes immediately afterward before he could lose his nerve.

It was time he said goodbye.

It was time to let Tim go.

Jason finally started to sob, crying over the too young hero. Over the little brother he never actually managed to bond with. Over the Robin, dead, just like him, and the fact that it was what it had taken for Jason to finally pay attention to him.

He cried, long and hard.

Then he took his shovel and filled this last hole back up.

“Wherever you are now, I hope you are more happy than you were when you left us,” he murmured. “I can’t remember being dead, so I can only hope.”

He looked around. “This has been fun, kinda. I hope you liked our little adventure as much as I did. I just. I. I’m just sad and sorry we couldn’t do that while you were alive.”

He sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. “Farewell, Tim.”

Breathing deeply, he placed the bocal next to the upturned soil and stepped back, taking his cellphone out. He walked far enough away that he could get the mini-grave in the camera’s frame along with a good chunk of the scenery.

He hadn’t documented any other locations, but seeing the quantity of different places he’d scattered Tim’s ashes across, just one picture wouldn’t hurt too much.

-Coming back to Gotham now- He included with the picture to Alfred.

It was, after all, time to move on. Jason definitely should try and talk to Damian so he didn’t have to mourn another stranger of a little brother ever again. (The thought hit him suddenly, that it was exactly what Dick had said to explain his much more developed relationship to Tim as it had been to him.)

His phone chimed with a reply.

-I am looking forward to your return-

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar”3/3 - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary : Thanks to a very jealous Harley Quinn, Batman is finally able to find his wife’s whereabouts. Kidnapped by the Joker since over a week, he’s afraid of what he’ll find when he finally reaches her...

Last part. I hope you enjoyed this little series, don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought of it :). WARNING FOR A LOT OF VIOLENCE YOW !! 

FINISHED SERIES : PART 1, PART 2

my master list blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_______________________________________________________________________

Bruce was never going to come rescue you. You tried to stay hopeful, it wasn’t in your nature to give up , but you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

His disgusting touch, the torture, both physical and mental...You just couldn’t handle the Joker’s abuse anymore. But he wouldn’t let you die. He’d bring you to the verge of death, just to take you back again. You were stuck in a loop of pain and agony. 

And Bruce was never going to come rescue you. You just knew it. It had been too long. What happened ? Was he also hurt during the attack ? Was he dead ? Oh god that would be the worst...he couldn’t be dead, he was the goddamn Batman. But...The goddamn Batman, the greatest detective in the World, always found a way, and fast, it had now been almost two weeks...

Was the Joker right ? Was he telling the truth ? Bruce forgot about you ? He couldn’t have...could he ? The clown kept telling you how Bruce kept going on with his life, not caring at all that his wife disappeared. He kept telling you that he, the Joker, would never do that to you...Yes he was a psycho, but when someone was his, he never let them go. 

“Your Bruce” was letting you go. Not even trying. And you started to believe the clown, because...Two weeks. It was a long time. And Batman knew everything, you had no doubt that if he really wanted to find you, he would have used all of his ressources to do so. He would have already find you. Besides, he should have the help of your sons...Did they forget about you too ?

********************

Your family certainly didn’t forget about you, in fact, they were closer than you thought. 

A few days ago, Harley Quinn came to Robin to tell him she had informations about your whereabouts. She requested to speak only to the Batman, and after a small conversation, they followed her. 

The thing was, they were starting to think she was messing with them, and their patience was reaching a critical limit. Especially Jason’s and Damian’s.

She first took them to the Narrows, the poorest and most dangerous place in Gotham, and to an old and beat down warehouse full of rats and filth. She went threw the back door of the building, and kept going, taking them threw most of Gotham’s worst places...That was the first night, as the sun rose, Harley just sat on the ground and refused to move until the end of the day. 

No matter how many threats she’d receive, she knew she had them in her pockets, they needed her. They were desperate to find their wife, their mom. So they didn’t do anything, and waited.  

While Harley was sleeping, Tim worked on his computer to try and pinpoint the places they’d been to, thinking there was maybe a  pattern to the ex-shrink’s walk they took with her...but he didn’t find anything. Dick went back to the bat cave to take some food and more supplies. Damian roamed the nearby neighborhood, unable to stay there, not doing anything. Quickly, Jason followed. Bruce sat in front of Harley, and stayed there until she woke up. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t move, not even batting an eye, and when she stood up, he just started to follow her once more. 

Again, Harley Quinn took them threw multiples places, and slowly but surely, they were getting out of Gotham. Damian was about to say something, but Bruce stopped him. For some reason, he felt like all of this meant something, and he was desperate to find you. For the first time in his life, he didn’t find even one little lead to where someone could be. There was just no trace of you, as if you never existed...His heart tightened at the thought. He had to find you.

And so he just followed Harley Quinn, hoping with all his heart she wasn’t trying to mess with them just for the sake of it...He was almost sure she wasn’t though. Because when she came to him, jealousy written all over her face, she just seemed sincere...He was almost sure she was leading them to the right way, but the small percentage of hesitation that remained scared him to death. Because if she wasn't taking them to you, then they were wasting precious time. 

The third night, he ordered Dick and Tim to go back to the cave to do research on their own. Of course, they protested. But Bruce knew they would do as he asked. Damian and Jason would never, and so he chose his eldest and wisest son, and his smartest one to go look for you...

When they left, Harley laughed, and Bruce had to grab Jason with all his strength to stop him from jumping on her. Which made the clown’s ex-girlfriend laughed a bit more.

**********************

-Why do you resist me darling ? 

You were a fighter, and even if your family forgot about you, you weren’t going to give the Joker the satisfaction to do what he wanted. You were going to resist, no matter what. Of course, as the days went by, you lost more and more the will to resist him...But today, when he spoke about how he satisfying it was to kill Jason, it awoke something in you, and you spat in his face, blood mixing with your spit, spreading around his scarred and scary clown face. 

He laughed. Of this laughed you hated so much. When he finally calmed down, he slapped you with all his might, and it almost knocked you down. 

-Why do you resist me darling ? 

You just smiled provocatively at him, and he lost his awful grin. He hated being provoked. But at the same time, he loved it. It was thrilling. Before you, he only had Harley, and that girl just couldn't resist him at all. While you...you were so difficult. It was perfect. 

You held your breath as his face approached yours, and stopped just an inch away. You knew what was going to happen, and automatically, you tried to get away, but you were bound tightly on the chair you were sitting on. There was no escape. There was never any escape. 

He smiled, of this horrible smile you hated so much. And his lips connected to yours, forcing for the thousands time his tongue in your mouth. 

You repressed yet another gag, and tried to bit his tongue like you did the first time...but he knew how to handle you now, and he took his tongue out before you could do anything. He pulled away, and his cold eyes filled with only hate stared at you. 

-Do you know why I took you here ? 

Yes. You knew. He told you the story a thousand time. 

One day, he saw you on TV while in the Arkham Asylum, and he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. You had an “amazing aura”, everyone around you just had to look at you, and the best of it all, is that you didn't even know that. Stupid Brucie Wayney had his arm around your waist, and he knew in an instant that man was not worthy of you. That man couldn't treat you like a woman like you should be treated. 

-You mean, tortured and abused all day ? Is that how I should be treated ? 

You managed to say, your voice weak and raspy. He looked at you, tilting his head on the side slightly, and gave you a smile that was almost sympathetic. Almost, because his eyes didn’t move at all, proving the smile to be fake, and because it was the Joker, sympathy was a foreign concept to him. 

-Not exactly. What is happening now is to...train you. Once you understand we’re made for each other, it’ll be different. Promise. 

-Your promises don’t mean anything, you freak. 

Talking hurt your throat, as water was sparse and when he tortured you, holding your screams in was putting a strain on it. But you were determined to show him he’ll never be able to convince you of anything. Well, except maybe that your family forgot about you...but...did they really ? You hoped that...The Joker took you away from your thoughts :

-Oh but you should trust me a bit more little lady, I’m much more that you think I am.

-Much more psychotic, much crazier, much...

-Shut up ! Shut up ! 

You bit your lips. You had done it again. You made him mad. And now, you were going to regret it dearly...But to your astonishment, he immediately calmed down and turn his head to you. He cupped one of your cheek, and liked your lips. You winced at the feeling, disgusted with all your being by him. 

-You don’t get it. Let me help you get it. 

You were ready. Ready for yet another one of his torture session. But to your surprise, he untied you, and you fell in his arms. You didn’t want to be in his arms, but you were too weak to be able to move...He took you up bridal style, your head fell back, as you didn’t have the strength to hold it up, and your arms went limp on your sides. 

Your heart started to beat faster with fear. He was taking you toward the bed. He was taking you toward to bed !! 

He threw you on it, and you tried to crawl away from him, without much success. You were just too weak...Maybe a week ago you would have find the strength to fight back, but no, you had no chance. You couldn’t even lift your head to see what he was doing. 

His hands on your body made you shiver in disgust and fear. He was taking the remnant of ruined clothes you still had off. You tried to kick him off, but your attempt resulted in a slight twitch of your legs. 

You closed your eyes as his filthy fingers roamed your body, letting go of everything. Your heart slowed more and more and...

The noise of an explosion near by made your eyes shot open. You turned your head slightly, and saw that one of the concrete wall just bursted into bits. The Joker left you, getting quickly to his feet. 

The last thing you saw before loosing consciousness, was him. Finally. Your Bruce. Your Bruce looking at you quickly, his eyes full of fear and relief. And your children, staring at you, in pain for you...

******************

Harley Quinn didn’t mess around with them. Turned out, there was a pattern to her little walk around Gotham. 

At each place they stopped, while the boys weren’t looking, she picked a key up. And on the fourth day, finally, she took them to a place way out of Gotham. 

As Bruce looked at her opening a door that was in the ground, using one of the keys to do so, he thought that there was indeed no way he could’ve found you by himself. This place was far from the Joker’s usual turf. And even if he looked, he could have never found a lone door in the forrest, in a place that seemed to be chosen at random...He shivered as he thought about how well thought the Joker’s plan was. But it made him hopeful. If he went threw all of this trouble, then it meant there was a chance you were still alive...

They went threw corridors and corridors, Harley sometimes opening a door with one of the keys to go threw it, and walk threw other corridors. It was a true labyrinth. There was no way they’d ever find their way...This place was a gigantic underground building.

Bruce wondered what it used to be, and how the Joker found it. But he quickly dismissed those thoughts, only focus on getting you back. He looked at his boys, and the look of determination on their face made his heart swelled. They were going to get you back, no matter what. 

Finally, they came to a humongous room, and in the middle of this room, was a concrete box with no doors. Looking around, Bruce noticed multiple torture object that made his heartbeat faster. 

Harley Quinn stopped in front of a control panel next to the concrete box. 

-She’s inside there. There’s a code to open a wall. I don’t know it though, he wouldn’t trust me with it...

She bent her head down, sadness on her face, and Bruce turned away from her. He didn’t have time to cheer her up. He nodded to Jason, and the boy immediately understood. He took a bomb out of his belt, and put it on the wall. They all got away from it, and waited. 

The wall bursted into bits, and they jumped in. Harley stayed behind. 

The first thing Bruce saw, was your  beaten body, naked, on a bed that looked exactly like the one you and him had back home. He only looked at you for a fraction of second, turning the anger and fear he felt inside him toward one person...The clown. 

Damian and Jason were unable to move to go fight the Joker, and stared at you. Tears were welling up in your youngest’s eyes. No matter what he’d like to think, you knew he was a sensitive boy, and seing you there, on the verge of death, clearly abused more than any human could handle, he just couldn’t help his tears...

Jason finally moved to you, and wrapped you in the sheets, covering your body that he just couldn’t stand looking at. 

All the while, Bruce was loosing it. It reminded him of the time the Joker killed his son, killed his Jason...He wanted to go out and kill him, he wanted to destroy the clown, but you convinced him otherwise. Because it would ruin everything he stood for, and because it would never bring Jay back. This time, as he punched the Joker again and again, stopping any laugh from coming out, it was Jason’s turn to save him from doing something he’d forever regret. 

As Damian was sitting next to you, holding your hand tightly against his heart and brushing a shaking hand on your hair, Jason calmly walked to Bruce, and with all of the strength in his body, tried to restrain him. He spoke soothing words in his father’s ears, he didn’t let go of him until the bat calmed down, and slumped weakly in his son’s arms. 

This time, Jason was there for him, filling in for you as best he could. He succeeded, even though his entire being was screaming at him to kill the Joker, he didn’t do it, and stopped his dad from doing it. He couldn’t let him do it, not after all the things you all went threw. 

Bruce finally regain his senses and, tears in his eyes, ran to you. You were unconscious, but your heart was still beating, thank God ! Jason helped him lifting you in his arms as delicately as possible, while Damian refused to let go of your hand. 

When they turned around, The Joker and Harley Quinn were gone. But they didn’t care, they had to get you to safety, they had to get you to a hospital. 

They made a quick call to the bat cave to tell Dick, Tim and Alfred they found you, and all reunited in the hospital, out of costume. 

******************

You woke up after two days in a coma that scared the shit out of your boys. When you opened your eyes, Damian’s head was on your belly, and he had tangle one of your hands in his hair, just like you did to soothe him back to sleep. Dick and Jason were both holding your other hand, while Tim’s head was resting on one of your thigh. Bruce’s face was in the crook of your neck, his hot breath tickling you, as he was sitting next to you. 

They were all asleep, but when they felt you move, they stired up instantly. 

Relief and love were on all their faces. You took away your hand from his hair and brushed your thumb on Damian’s cheek, proceeding then to ruffle Tim’s hair. You squeezed Dick and Jason’s hands, and gave a look at Bruce that meant : “Yes, you can kiss me”. 

His lips were soft against your chapped ones. His lips on yours were the best things you felt, ever, as the memory of the Joker’s disgusting lips faded away.

You stayed a long time in the hospital, and they took turn in looking after you, staying with you. They made sure you knew how much they loved you, and how your death would have destroyed them. You made sure to show them that you weren’t going anywhere, and that you felt better every day. 

You were heavily scarred, but alive. More alive than ever actually. 

******************

Forever, the scars that the Joker left reminded you those weeks of agony. But your Bruce made sure to also remind you that he’d never let you go again, that he would always be there to protect you, as he covered those damned scars with his infamous love bites. 

The scars reminded you that you could be strong, that you could fight, that if your will was made of iron. It made Bruce realize that you were stronger than he thought, and that you really were a special one. His special one. 

The scars reminded you how much you loved your family, and how much they loved you. Bruce almost killed the Joker for you. Jason didn’t kill him for you. Damian and Tim were wrecked at the simple thought of loosing you, and Dick...Well, Dick was the most optimistic of them all, so the way he did not smile once during the time you were in the hospital, his face filled with worries, was enough for you to know how much he cared about you. 

In the end, these scars became some sort of a blessing, making your family stronger than before. 

******************

Somewhere around the Gotham’s area, a few days later : 

The Joker and Harley were in hiding, in an abandoned building. She was in a pretty bad shape, after the Joker unleashed his wrath on her, even though she saved him, patched him up...

Because of her, you slipped threw his fingers. His plan was perfect, but she had to come in and ruin everything, as always. 

He was sitting in an old and rotten armchair, as she was rubbing herself on his legs, like a dog. She was so pathetic. It calmed him down a bit to see her like that, at least she was at his mercy. She would accept anything. Not like you...

But in his head, you were the only one. He had to take you back. 

-Puddin’, please...

He looked down on her, eyes full of disdain, and, raising an eye brow, he said : 

-Shut up. I’ll properly deal with you later. Right now, I have to think...

-You’re not thinking about her again are you ? She doesn’t love you like I do ! I would have let you do all of those things to me, without resisting like she did ! 

-I know you would, that’s why you’re so boring. No, I don’t need you. She...She’s the one. I won’t rest until she’s mine again...

Harley refrained herself from telling him that you were never his anyway, and continue to rub herself on him. She was going to get him back. Somehow. But she knew it was going to take a long time, as his thoughts were only for you...Maybe...Maybe the only solution was to get rid of you ? 

As the Joker kicked her and stood up, going to stare out of the window, Harley Quinn smiled to herself. Yes. That was it. That was the perfect plan. 

She was going to get rid of you someday. 

The end ?

[bluboothalassophile]

I’m Hiding Your Brother Under My Bed

Up is Down

It was after his spar with the twerp that he found himself sitting in an indoor garden alone and hiding. A greenling, Hispanic kid, and another girl had appeared to drag Raven and Damian off, and Jason had taken that moment to escape without being noticed. However, he wasn’t really willing to brave the outside world just yet as he had sought out a hiding area and slunk into his current hide out after seeing the Titans vacate the Tower as fast as they could.

Jason wasn’t willing to be found by Bruce, and he kind of liked the garden he was hiding out in right now as he perched himself up high in a tree and stared out the window at the water of the bay.

His death and dying had sucked, epically, however, compared to before… well, Jason vividly remembered the last six months of his life before and he remembered what Bruce thought of him.

He was an out of control little monster and Jason didn’t want to face Bruce knowing that was what his father thought of him. And Bruce… Bruce was his dad in every possible way but blood, Jason had loved Bruce, worshiped the very ground Bruce had walked on and clung to his every word. Jason had worked his ass off to be the best, to try to be better, however it appeared that was all in vain. Bruce thought him to be a little monster and Jason didn’t know how to fight that. Perhaps there really wasn’t anything good in him, he’d been a street kid, he’d been a criminal, he was born of the angry, drunk bastard Willis Todd, and the coldhearted bitch Shelia Haywood; so perhaps there wasn’t anything good in him. Perhaps he was just a monster who had once dressed as Robin.

Biting his lip, he dragged his fingers into his hair as he sat in the tree trembling.

Bruce probably hated knowing he was alive, probably hated that his greatest failure was back from the dead instead of staying dead like a good soldier should. And Jason had no doubt that that was exactly what Bruce thought him to be, a good soldier. The pain of that thought was crippling as he shut his eyes to the coming tears and tried to shrink.

Maybe he could talk to Raven, she seemed solid, and she might have a solution for him so he wasn’t forced out on the street. True she seemed about his age, but… she was solid, she was level, he felt like he could turn to her for help. It wasn’t like he could talk to dickhead or the demon spawn for help.

Suddenly there was another presence in the room and Jason hugged his knees to him as he tried to take up as little space as he could to shrink and disappear into the shadows.

“Jason,” Bruce’s voice was below him, Jason didn’t dare to look down and he didn’t dare to move in fear of attracting attention.

“I would like to talk,” Bruce said.

Jason said nothing, he focused on being as inconspicuous as possible. Bruce had probably hoped to never see him again and Jason didn’t know if he could face that because he was so tired…

He was tired of fighting, tired of trying, tired of being the disappointment, tired of not being Dick, tired of never being enough. Even before his death he’d been tired, tired of all of it, and tired of trying. He was never going to be good enough, he was never going to be a Dick Grayson, he was never going to be the best Robin. Not that he could be Robin anymore.

There was a quiet rustling in the tree and Jason buried his face in his knees.

Go away, go away, his mind chanted. He wanted to disappear from here again.

“Jason,” a heavy hand touched him and Jason pulled away.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, not looking up, he tried to shrink away some more, tried to disappear, but he could. What he could do was not look at Bruce, he was good at that. Jason was good being inconspicuous. And the longer he was like this the soon Bruce would leave him alone and he could figure out his next move.

“Jason,” Bruce’s voice was calm again.

“GO AWAY!” Jason screamed then, so much for staying inconspicuous.

“I would like to talk,” Bruce repeated, and Jason’s head snapped up as he felt a righteous fury filling him, and something else, something edgier, more dangerous, however it felt natural too.

“Talk!? Talk About What!?” he laughed hysterically. “How I Was Dangerous!? Out Of Control!? How You Were Taking Robin Away From Me!? How You Thought I Killed Someone! Want To Talk About How You Have A New Robin!? Or How I Wasn’t Dick!? Or Do You Want To Talk About How I Got Myself Killed By Joker!? Or How You Were Going To Give Me Up!?”

He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks but he couldn’t hold them in anymore. Goddamn it hurt so much, so fucking much.

“I Was Never Giving You Up!” Bruce snapped back at him.

“Bullshit! I was dangerous!” he screamed. Just a little monster, though he doubted Bruce said as much aloud to anyone. No doubt Bruce thought it though. Jason buried his face in his knees again. This was all just a nightmare, he’d wake up again, safe, under his sink in Crime Alley, with his mother high, and his father drunk, and he’d see. This was all just some crazy dream.

The only problem was it felt pretty fucking real to him and he hated that as he wanted to cry.

“This is all a nightmare,” he whispered to himself. It had to be, because if this was his reality he was better off dead, and he would rather deal with that than the reality of being an unwanted little monster.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Bruce was startled at his son’s reactions to him, but more startled that Jason was trying to shrink away. Jason had tried all that before when he was first brought to the Manor, and had grown past it if he trusted the person. It was shattering to think Jason no longer trusted him and Bruce carefully reached over and slid a hand through Jason’s wavy hair, the boy jerked away, and Bruce caught him before he went crashing out of the tree.

“LET GO OF ME!” Jason screamed and Bruce was quick to pull away, there was a brilliant green glow in the boy’s eyes and he remembered how Dick had said Raven found him right out of the Lazarus Pit. A chill of real fear went through Bruce at the thought. For one thing Jason was not the most emotionally stable person before his death, Jason rode out all his emotions and did not compartmentalize any of them. He felt everything with such a ferocity that Bruce used to fear it consuming him or getting him killed.

“Jason,” Bruce sighed. God, he couldn’t believe it, Jason was here, and alive! His child was alive again! A part of Bruce wanted to hug the boy until Jason couldn’t stand it and never let him go, he wanted to let Jason know it was alright, that everything was fine. But a part of him held back because this was Jason, and Jason was not the most touchy-feely child on the planet.

“I did not replace you, and had no intentions of ever taking on another Robin after your death,” Bruce said softly to the curled-up ball of Jason. the boy didn’t look at him; his face was still hidden in his knees. “I still have your adoption papers, and I have your room exactly how you left it though I’m sure you’ll change it. You were never replaced Jason, and… and if I had known you were alive I’d have dragged you home in a heartbeat.”

“You’re lying,” was the muffled reply which had Bruce frowning a bit.

“I will never lie to you Jason,” Bruce stated firmly.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Bruce looked down when Dick appeared. “Jay the team’s back, why don’t you go meet them.”

“No.”

“Jason.”

“No.”

“Jason,” a new monotone voice entered the room which had Jason peeking up and Bruce frowned at his son’s reaction to the empath’s voice.

“What?”

“We’re having a water wars, Damian and I need a third teammate since Garfield and Jaime dibs Donna,” Raven stated.

“So I’m the back up?”

“No, you were on my team from the start, Damian just decided to join it,” Raven answered grabbing Jason’s wrist when his son uncurled. “Come on!”

“What the hell!?” Jason yelped as he was all but dragged after the young woman.

“Shut up and put up, I am not getting drenched again because of Gar!” Raven stated.

“Who’s Gar?” Jason asked as he and Raven disappeared.

“Dick,” Bruce started.

“Don’t, Raven was the one who said Jason’s Pit rage was coming to surface, I don’t know what set him off but she was hell bent on finding him before he reacted,” Dick stated. Bruce sighed, was this to be his life with his son now? in need of the empath for every possible moment so Jason didn’t snap?

“He thinks he was discarded and replaced,” Bruce sighed as he landed beside Dick.

“Yeah, I have a feeling he’s not going to warm up to us quickly; again, and we need to keep him away from the news,” Dick sighed tiredly.

“What?”

“Well we know how he felt about killers and rapists before his death, and if he finds out the Joker’s alive I don’t think he’ll handle it well, especially with the Pit in his system,” Dick informed him in a hushed tone.

Bruce frowned, he hadn’t thought about that. Not that he didn’t worry about the Joker however, the clown was locked up for the most part, and his last break out had ended disasterously because the Joker had come to violate his son’s grave. Bruce had snapped and put the clown in another body cast. Personally he wanted to do so much worse, however, he couldn’t cross that line, he didn’t want to let Jason down by descending to the level of his killer and killing the Joker. Also, Batman killing the Joker was Joker’s ultimate goal, and Bruce refused to let the Joker win. But, he did not think his fifteen year old, newly resurrected, Lazarus Pit bathed son would see it that way. No Jason would probably think he wasn’t loved, missed or wanted.

They were going to have to prove to Jason that he was loved, he had been missed, and he was more than wanted.

“Alfred’s coming out tonight, he exhumed Jay’s grave… Bruce, whatever it was… Alfred wants to tell us in person,” Dick softly murmured.

Bruce clenched his jaw as a tremble went through him. “Until then what? We’re supposed to leave him to the empath’s care when she’s still a child herself, Dick?”

“No,” Dick said firmly. “But you, Alfred, Damian, and I are going to need her help, and we’re going to have to work to get Jason back and that means we stay here for now. We keep him away from the Joker and the news until we’re sure he knows how much we love him. I fucked up the first time, and so did you, and we’re going to have to prove to him we love and want him.”

“We should have done better,” Bruce muttered sourly. He remembered very well the pissing contest he and Dick had been involved in at the time, and Bruce hadn’t really thought about how it’d affect Jason at the time. Neither had Dick. At least, they hadn’t until Jason was dead after running off to find his birth mom thinking he was unwanted by them.

“We should have, now we can; we just have to prove it to Jason,” Dick stated.

[redhoodieone]

Welcome Home

This is technically my first smut. I feel like since I always requests smuts, I figured I should give one back to Tumblr and for those who always make my fantasies come true. 

Warnings: Major Smut.

I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

 Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

 Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

  I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

Yeah it’s my first smut...so I’m sorry if it sucks. (Pun intended)

[zombiesbecrazy]

How To Do Right

Summary:  Damian's alive again and Jason knows that he should talk to him about it, from one dead Robin to another, but doesn't quite know what to do. (Jason Todd, Damian Wayne)

Also, I love today. #batfamcontentwar is awesome. Thank you, @camsthisky! 

ao3

Jason stood in the doorway and watched Damian move around his bedroom. The kid obviously knew he was there but had ignored him so far which Jason took to mean that his presence wasn’t not wanted.  

Damian was inspecting his belongings, seeing if they had been moved or gone missing in his absence. They had just rescued him from Apokolips a little over 24 hours ago and Jason had noticed that Damian hadn’t been left by himself for more than a few moments. Even when he had been asleep, Bruce had stayed in the room, not taking his eyes off him for a second, exhausted as he was.  It had taken both Alfred and Jason to convince Bruce that he needed to sleep and Jason had promised that he’d keep an eye on Damian until he woke up again, when it became clear that that was going to be the only way to get the man to just lie down.  He had almost died himself to get Damian back and if anyone deserved a nap after all this, it was Bruce.  It had taken them longer to get Bruce in his room and into his bed than he had thought if Damian was now up and alert or maybe the kid had been awake earlier and just pretending to be asleep.  

Apparently satisfied with the state of his room, Damian sat back down on his bed, leaned against the headboard and began scratching Titus’ head.  The dog hadn’t left his side since he returned either, but was fast asleep on the bed now. It had been a long day for Titus too.

Probably the first dog to go to Apokolips. Ace would be jealous.

Without looking at Jason, Damian said softly, “I was wondering how long it would take for you to come to see me.”  

Of course he did.  The kid was smart, if not a little rough around the edges, and Jason knew a little something about both those things. There was no reason to lie or make excuses, and even if there were, that wasn’t really Jason’s style. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly. There isn’t much to speak of.  Being dead was just like being unconscious. I was fighting with Heretic alongside Father and Grayson, and then I woke up in the cave. It’s not as if I remember being dead.” Damian shrugged, but he gestured at the bed so Jason came into the room and sat at the foot against the post with his feet stretch out towards Damian. “I had a nightmare about the actual battle when I was asleep earlier, but that is to be expected.”

Jason nodded in agreement, “Nightmares happen to everyone after a fight goes south. Even if you don’t die.” He understood where Damian was coming from.  Everyone always talked about Jason was so messed up from dying but in reality, death itself wasn’t the problem; it was everything that came before and after that pushed him over the edge. Death was quiet. Crawling out of your own grave was not. “You did come back with some super powers though, so that’s pretty nifty. Wish that had happened to me.” Damian smiled a little, probably thinking about how he had literally flown up the steps from the cave earlier, much to everyone’s surprise. “Anything I can do? From one dead Robin to another?”

“What could you possibly do?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Everyone probably thought that Jason would be able to help Damian with this, but Jason really didn’t know how. It’s not like their situations were anything alike, besides being dead. At best, he could be someone to lean on and that was at least more than he had had. He hummed in agreement, “I’m not sure. I learned a bit from being dead. And recovering from being dead. Lesson one – don’t be an ass to people who are trying to empathize.  It’s not their fault that they don’t get it. They’re trying.  There isn’t exactly a book on ‘how to talk to a resurrected person’ that they can read for nifty tips.” Jason did smile a bit at the thought of seeing a ‘Handbook for Communicating with the Recently Undeceased’ book on the shelf. Maybe he’d write one someday. “Except for me.  You can be an ass to me.” If anything, Jason could let himself be a target for Damian’s frustration.  Frustration that was bound to come at some point even if it wasn’t there now.

“-tt-” Damian clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at Jason. “Not if you’re giving me permission.”

“Fine then, brat.”

“What’s the second lesson?”

“Don’t try to kill everyone who makes you angry. That’s actually a good life lesson in general, but I was pretty murderous post Pit.” Jason stretched his legs out of the bed and resettled. “Ok, there isn’t like an actual list of lessons I have prepared. I just thought you might need to hang out with someone who gets it.”

Damian didn’t respond, but didn’t ask him to leave either, so Jason stays put.  The manor seems quiet in the night and Jason thinks that that is when he likes it best. It’s a calm that only exists late in the night, when the patrols are done and before anyone has to be awake for the day. Everyone is home and safe and at peace.

Almost everyone. Jason knows what is going to upset Damian the most and isn’t sure how to talk about it, even though it needs to be done.

“One of the hardest parts is not the being dead, which does suck beyond belief, but it’s what you missed while you gone.  Time moved on while you stood still. When you wake up, things are different.” Jason doesn’t want to tell him about Dick, doesn’t want to be that person, but the kid needs to know.

But Damian beats him to it, avoiding Jason’s gaze and his voice so small. “Father told me Grayson died.”

“He did.”

“I know it’s childish, but I keep hoping that he’ll come back. Like me.”

“After what just happened to you it isn’t childish, but I want to make sure that you understand that it won’t happen.” Jason nudges him with his foot, and it’s enough to get Damian to look at him. “Not everyone can be brought back. And sometimes when they do, they don’t come back right. Most of the time, dead is dead. We are the exceptions, not the rule.” Jason knew for a fact that neither himself, Dick or Tim wanted to be put in a Lazarus Pit if killed in action; the three of them had talked about it after Damian was gone and Bruce was spiraling through his grief. They needed to know to watch out for each other’s wishes because watching Bruce implode made them realize they couldn’t necessarily trust him to think straight if it happened again. “Dick wouldn’t want to come back ‘wrong’ like me.”

“You aren’t ‘wrong’, Todd.”

“You can’t quite say I’m ‘right’ though, can you?”

Damian looked at him as if he were considering his options and shrugged again, “I didn’t know you before. You may have always been the way you are now.”

“Are you trying to say that I was always crazy?” Loose cannon, maybe, but crazy?

“I don’t have enough data to give an appropriate answer.” He started petting Titus’ soft ears and looked away from Jason again. “I miss him.”

“Dick?”

“Of course.” Damian gave a long sigh and stared at his hands. “From my perspective, it’s as if he just vanished from reality. It’s hard to explain. To me he was just with me yesterday, by my side battling with Heretic, but he’s been gone for months to the rest of you.”

“I get that.”

“You do?”

“When I came back I felt like that about being Robin. I was Robin and then when I woke up, I wasn’t and had been replaced.  Seemed like I had just blinked and everything was completely different.  It’s not the same, but its similar.” He sees the kid nod slightly. “I miss him too.” Damian looked at Jason skeptically through narrowed eyes and Jason could only give him a small smile in response. “We may not have always got along but he always insisted that we were family; even when I was trying to kill him. I don’t think I knew how much I believed him until he was actually gone.”

After Dick had died, Jason had wanted nothing more than to talk to him again, to apologize for everything he had said and done after he had come back, because now he got it. Now he understood what his own death had done to Dick all those years ago. He finally got it, but he couldn’t take back some of the things he had said or done. It was hard to live with and the grief had taken him by surprise. “Tim and I had two brothers die on us. Really quickly after another. Just because it’s been a couple months doesn’t mean that it can’t still hurt.”

“He was my partner and now…” Damian trails off and it seems like he’s having trouble sorting his thoughts in to words. “I know Father was with him when it happened and they were partners first, but…” His voice was cracking and he started a third time, “He died and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there for him,” his words trail off into a whisper, “he was there for me.”

Tears started rolling out of Damian’s eyes and something inside Jason broke. Damian was so strong and tough all the time that people could forget that he was still just a kid dealing with things that regular kids shouldn’t have to even think about. Bruce may be his father, but Dick was his Batman and brother all rolled into one and Jason had no idea how to help with that. What would Dick do if he was here now? What would he want Jason to do?

“Need a hug?”

Damian held himself stiff and sniffed a bit, but didn’t move to touch his tear streaked face. “No, Todd. I do not need a hug.”

“I’ll try that again. Do you want a hug? I’m not Dick, but I’ve been told that I’m a very good hugger.��

Damian hesitated and then nodded slightly.  Jason moved from his spot at the end of the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around the younger boy.  After a few moments, Damian relaxed and squeezed Jason back tightly, arms barely able to reach all the way around him.

“Your hug was more than adequate.” Damian mumbled against his chest, giving no indication that he was going to let go any time soon.

Jason reached up and put one of his hands in the kid’s hair and felt him relax even more into him, “I’m going to put that on my resume.”

This was something that Jason could do right.