#and the thing is. bruce had just watched jason kill plenty of people

[to-the-batcomputer]

christ almighty. bruce wayne i don't forgive you for anything (<- girl who just watched utrh voice)

[wolfsrainrules]

Stares off into the distance:

So.

Apparently my brain is just going to run along with various crossovers. Today, I bring you the thought of a John Wick fusion au (actually five differnet ones) with Batman/DC. (Again: a reminder that all my DC/Batman knowledge is fandom based)

@north-peach hellllppppp

Couple of thoughts for this.

The First: Janet Drake is one of the underworld's best. She's fantastic at manipulation and killing. She could walk herself out of a situation covered in blood, and convince people who saw it all happen that she never touched the body.

Tim grows up at her knee. He learns for the very best. And Janet teaches him everything she can- because despite the job and the crazy hours, and the travel, she loves her son. She wants to give him every opportunity to make it out alive from anything. Unharmed and not in trouble if possible, but alive most of all.

John Wick is a ghost story to the underworld. Tim has always been curious about people who could cause such a stir as his mother or John Wick might. When he meets him, he decides that man is Friend Shaped despite every sign saying Do Not. Despite every horror story saying it's a bad plan. (Much as he will later look at a story in a city of a cryptid said to be a manifestation of a city, a demon, a physical representation of all those who have died unavenged and decide the same)

More than that- John has ZERO idea how to handle Tim. He's a k i d. John's not gonna kill him for just...showing up all the time. It's not like he interferes or causes problems. In fact, he helps sometimes. Provides info, or a direction, a place to crash-

Tim confuses John.

Tim is also the very first to congratulate him, when he manages to get out of the underworld for Helen and mean it. To not even question the 'impossibility' of the Baba Yaga deciding he was done. John didn't bother to ask how Tim knew he'd left and why before the news actually broke out.

Tim watching John get out, go for it and SUCCEED is what gives him the courage to confess to his mother that he wanted to spend some time outside of the underworld, watching the curious case of Batman and Gotham. And Janet loves her son. So she arranges for it to be so.

They both know who Bruce Wayne is. Janet had figured it out before even Tim. She makes him promise that, if he needs her, he will call her, and lets him hunker in Gotham while he does what he wishes. She makes some trips back to Gotham, of course, but not so many that enemies can figure out there's someone important to her there. Janet is THE Femme Fatale. She has plenty of people who would go after her boy. And she's not having that.

Tim doesn't actually PLAN to get involved in vigilante life. At all. He's underworld born and bred. He's a survivor, manipulative, and can be a level of cunning and cold and ambitious that always makes his mother so so proud. He's not a do-right kind of person. He's not someone who does things for people outside of "me and mine" without a reason. Or if it goes against his moral code.

Except Jason Todd becomes one of "Me and Mine". He's a friend. A nosy vigilante who sees that his friend is alone and sets off his instincts as dangerous yes, but also as 'not a civilian' in a conventional sense. He's not a street rat, but he's not...normal either. And Tim? Tim, once he decides this Robin is his Robin, well he can't very well leave him undefended doing this ALONE can he? Though he understands by working with Robin, he cant use the tried and true methods of murder, as it could get pinned to Robin or Batman and he can't have that. If he wants to fly with Jason, he needs to fly by his rules. So a new vigilante is born that runs the streets with Robin. A little more vicious but in a cold and precise manner. Exacting. He doesn't let Jason go after his mother without doing the information gathering, and stops his death by Joker.

For a time, Tim finds himself pulled into the Wayne family, and he...thrives with them. He's happy. He learns under them. Expands his skillset, and still sent out to learn from people around the world. He is NOT fool enough to turn that away- his mother would somehow KNOW wherever she was if he turned down that kind of opportunity and he did not want to imagine the disappointment and response. NO THANK YOU.

When the underworld is kicked like a hornets' nest by John Wick coming back into the fold, Tim is...curious. He's kept an eye on John and Helen, if not stayed in direct and constant contact with them. He hadn't expected John to step foot back into the underworld.

And then his mother sends word to him, calls him back to the Continental, warns that the underworld is getting REALLY kicked up as a result. Tim...needs to go. He cannot imagine NOT answering his mother.

He arranges things on the Gotham end. Says temporary goodbyes and gets to the NY branch asap. Beats his mother there.

Makes it just in time to see John Wick pull a gun on Continental Grounds and shoot a newly crowned seat at the Table and is caught up in the chaos.

His family are going to end UP in the chaos themselves, because they will not cannot leave Tim in it alone. The connections Tim has are MUCH a surprise, he's done very well in hiding exactly what he used to do, and WHY he has a contact and hand in everything, and can ALWAYS get his family what they need. The Second: Tim Drake still grows up at Janet's knee. He learns it all. Thrives in it all. He ends up NOT going down the road of hitman or assassin or any number of things he could have done. Instead Tim Drake chooses to be a Information Broker that claims Gotham eventually, and by means of getting taken in by Bruce, the Wayne Manor and grounds around it become neutral grounds much like the Continental, if you want Tim's services to remain open to you. If you pull the underworld onto the ground...well. Just because Tim goes by Bruce's rules, and just because he PREFERS the route of nonviolence does not in any way mean he would not kill to protect it. To prove a point. To make a statement. To allow one to get away with it is to allow danger to his family and he WILL NOT, no matter that they all are perfectly capable of defending themselves. The Underworld is entirely different than their villains. To not kill the offender is to open themselves to weakness and targets. So Tim WILL.

Gotham is not Wayne Manor. The City is fair game to the underworld. Wayne Manor is NOT.

The Third:

Janet raises her boy at her knee still. Tim chooses the route of Doctor instead. He sets up in Gotham, and decides he likes the foolish vigilantes enough to step in when it's needed and save their lives. He becomes known to the Batfam as a Doc that will not ask questions, but is absolutely one of the most capable people they've seen. If Leslie isn't available, or not close enough, they go to Tim, if Tim doesn't find them, because he certainly seems to know when they need it.

The Batfam does sometimes find him having dealt with Some Things underworld involved so they are WORRIED about their idiot, despite the fact that Tim can and will Wreck everyone that causes problems in his area. He has also shown up stripping off blood covered scrub tops or whatever cause hes coming in hot from another healing thing, and they all wonder and worry and just- it's fine. Everything is fine.

They worry anyway.

Despite the fact that Tim has friends seemingly everywhere, from all walks of life, favors all over, and connections to seemingly everything as a result of his work. (He has absolutely been offered favors as payment, hits, assassinations and all sorts of things. He never turns them away. Janet taught him better. Instead he has markers and logs, books and written promises all stacked away. He remembers them all of course, but better to have written proof somewhere, something official. The Continental holds it for him.

The Fourth:

Gotham HAS a Continental Hotel due to all of its.....everything. Janet Drake runs it. Tim knows EVERYONE and everything, and has absolutely run the counter often. Bruce doesn't know what it is. Ra's absolutely does. Tim is the next to take over the branch and EVERYONE knows it.

He ends up occasionally, when people step on his morals, providing information to the Bat.

Jason managed to find his way inside by accident, and may or may not get himself heavily involved in the underworld even BEFORE the Red Hood thing.

The Fifth:

Same concept as 4 except BRUCE WAYNE runs the Continental and the ripples of everything therein.

[fractualized]

Could you give me any Batman comic(/series) recommendations? Or Joker ones?

(You can pretend I’ve never read any Batman comics)

Man, this got me thinking about (1) the number of extended storylines I still haven't fully read myself and (2) of the ones I have, would I recommend that people read them?? Tough question! Thinking about it in terms of a Batman newbie changes things too... 🤔

Ultimately, my list is mostly one-offs apart from the mainline series, but there's a few multi-issue mainline stories in there. From oldest to newest:

Batman (1940) #1, "The Joker" and "The Joker Returns" — Early comics can feel inaccessible because of their age, but I would still recommend checking out the start of Batman and Joker's relationship for a sense of the longevity and evolution of these characters (You could also read Batman's first appearance in Detective Comics [1937] #27.)

Batman (1940) #251, "The Joker's Five-Way Revenge" — Jumping ahead thirty years! After a 4-year absence from comics, Joker returns, and I just love how his dynamic with Batman picks up where they left off like it was yesterday.

Detective Comics (1937) #475, "The Laughing Fish" — The infamous story in which Joker's mad scheme is to… copyright fish.

The Dark Knight Returns #1-4 — TBH, I'm not a fan of TDKR for various reasons. However, it had a huge influence on Batman and you should read it at least once.

Batman (1940) #404-407, "Batman: Year One" — More required reading (but I do enjoy it more than TDKR). Frank Miller's problematique is more acknowledged today, but as I said, modern Batman stems from his work.

The Killing Joke — Controversial-ish recommendation nowadays, considering the much-maligned choice to fridge Barbara Gordon, but I still enjoy the nuance it gives Joker and the meta element of the ending, with Bruce and Joker trapped in their cycle by choices that are informed by the needs of the franchise. Alan Moore may no longer care for it, but I do! (Also, I'd say read it with the original coloring.)

Batman (1940) #426-429, "A Death in the Family" — Another big event in Batman lore: the death of Jason Todd. It's one of those moments that gets flattened in various ways today, so I think it's important to see how everything actually played out. In particular, it's striking to see that Joker is initially nervous about Batman finding out what he did, and just how Bruce struggles with his no-kill principle.

Batman #450-451, "Wildcard!" and "Judgements!" — Joker's big return after Jason's murder, in which we see he's still not all that giddy about it.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #65-68, "Going Sane" — This story takes place earlier in Batman's career, before Robin. When Joker seemingly kills Batman, he tries to start a new life without his instability breaking through. Meanwhile, Bruce recovers from his near-death in a little town in the middle of nowhere and thinks he might actually stay there… but he's plagued by restlessness too.

Joker: Devil's Advocate — Joker winds up on death row, but for a crime he didn't commit! Bruce is set on proving Joker's innocence despite the clown's other sins, and Joker is too captivated by all the media attention to help save his own hide.

Deathstroke (1991) #58, "Bad Blood" — A story in which Joker causes plenty of chaos, but in service of doing something… nice?

Batman: Ego — As Bruce contemplates giving up his crusade, he falls into an argument with… Batman.

Batman (1940) #648-650, "All They Do Is Watch Us Kill" — Part of Under the Red Hood. Jason Todd's reappearance in Gotham City comes to a head when he kidnaps Joker and draws Batman in for a dire confrontation.

Detective Comics (1937) #826, "Slayride" — Paul Dini is one of the writers who consistently remembers Joker has a personality and makes him funny, and this Christmas-time story featuring Tim Drake is a great example.

Batman Confidential #7-12, "Lovers and Madmen" — An alternative origin for Joker. Bruce has been fighting crime for about a year when he encounters a bloody crime scene that he can't make sense of. Meanwhile, the culprit, Jack, is growing bored with his criminal life, until he comes face to face with a vigilante bat.

Batman 80-Page Giant 2010 (Volume 2), "Reality Check" — Is Joker really crazy? Does Joker himself even know?

Batman (2011) #13-17, "Death of the Family" — Not to be confused with "A Death in the Family." Joker tries to convince Batman that all his sidekicks make him weak.

Batman (2011) #23.1, "Time to Monkey Shine" — Joker infamously adopts a gorilla. (It ends badly.)

Batman (2011) #35-40, "Endgame" — After Joker's failure in DOTF, he decides to bring his conflict with Batman to a close.

The Joker Presents: A Puzzlebox #1-7 — The Riddler is dead, but what really happened? A heist story in which the point of view is passed around multiple rogues, but Joker is the ringleader.

Catwoman: Lonely City #1-4 — Alright, this one does revolve around Selina, but the story is deeply tied to her relationship with Bruce and what she comes to understand about him in the end. (And Joker plays a brief but key part!)

Batman & The Joker: The Deadly Duo #1-7 — A recent team-up that calls back to everything I've personally enjoyed about Batman and Joker's dynamic.

Batman: City of Madness #1-3 — Beneath Gotham lies Gotham Below, from which a monstrous mirror of Batman escapes in search of a Robin. In his pursuit, Bruce confronts not only alternative versions of his rogues but his personal demons.

[thepartyresponsible]

Hey there! I've read all the way through your fics masterlist (for the second time this year) and am craving more (who wouldn't?!). I was just wondering, since I'd hate to impose asking for something new, if you'd consider posting a snippet of one of your wips (maybe something with Clint)? Any scrap of material you'd be willing to release into the world again would be like a holy grail, a balm to soothe savage readers. Love your writing so much!!

hello! i'm not working on much right now, but i've been reading something is killing the children, and, naturally, trying to figure out how to write a dc/marvel crossover in that universe.

so here's a little snippet of a something is killing the children dc/marvel au, where jason todd and clint barton are young, feral, and murderous.

warnings for graphic violence, dead parents, and gore.

- - -

The White Masks clean up after a feeding frenzy at a circus, and, afterwards, they bring home a pair of blonde brothers still spotted with blood. Circus kids, just like Dick, but skinnier. The youngest is wearing a costume, bright purple and garish, an embarrassment in the predawn light. He’s clutching a bow like a teddy bear, has that pale, rolling-eyed look of fresh trauma.

The story, when it filters to them, is that a brood of Oscuratypes feasted their way through a late-night performance. The monsters started in the stands, ate their way to the stage. It was a spectacle, Jason hears. A real, once-in-a-lifetime sort of show.

Whole families dismembered and consumed alive. Pieces of acrobats raining down from the trapeze. Blood and guts and sequins and screams.

The baby brother, that five foot nothing bit of dandelion fluff on legs, killed three of the babies with blunted arrows. Three of the damn things.

“I mean,” Jason says, at dinner, “it’s bullshit. Kid shows up with three kills. That’s not fair.”

“Yeah.” Dick looks disappointed in him, which is how he usually looks these days. “That’s absolutely the point here, Jason. That’s what we’re all focusing on. He has more kills than you.”

“He hasn’t been initiated,” Jason continues. “He doesn’t even have a totem. He’s got three kills and--”

“And,” Bruce intones, “twenty-six people are dead.”

It should be more. One adult and five babies, a crowd of hundreds of people. Should be dozens upon dozens. Should be a fucking mess.

A twelve-year-old kid with blunt arrows and a spangly purple leotard. “And,” Jason says, as he shoves to his feet, “he’s too fucking old for this.”

- -

Jason was eleven when he watched a monster rip his mother into meat. He remembers the teeth.

He remembers her high-pitched, dying-rabbit shrieks, remembers that awful wet slurping. He remembers everything, every sound, the arc of blood, angle dropping rapidly, pressure failing. The way she looked at him, the way she stopped.

He remembers the weight of the knife from the kitchen, shitty and dull like everything they owned. The useless dredge of terror in his chest, all that stupid, howling grief.

Twelve’s too fucking old. A younger brain’s more malleable, sieves that shit right out of you, kicks it to the backburner of your subconscious mind. Jason knows plenty of White Masks who showed up when they were six or seven, and he almost wouldn’t clock them as Knights if he never saw them work.

But he can always tell the older ones. The cracks never quite fuse up right.

Black Masks are different, but they always are.

The point is, the kid had a chance. It’s just too damn bad his monsters showed up so late.

- -

“They’re gonna kill you,” Jason tells him. Out after curfew, unmasked with an uninitiated stray. Rules are for breaking, like laws and promises and necks.

If Bruce didn’t want him here, he should’ve nailed his bedroom window shut.

If the house didn’t want him talking to the stray, they should’ve nailed his window shut too.

“Loose ends,” Jason says.

The blonde shrugs. His name is Clint. His brother disappeared less than six hours after they brought him here, stole out sometime during lunch, and everybody’s shocked as hell except the brother he left behind. “Seems like,” he says, slow and kinda rambling, picking through his words, “everything’s been trying. But nothing’s done it yet.”

That white mask looks terrible on him, covers him from cheekbones to jaw, washes him out. He’d look better in black, but God knows Bruce wasn’t going to risk going to another circus. Look what happened last time.

Bruce Wayne, the so-called last of the Dark Knights, all his good, solitary intentions shattered apart at the feet of the bloodily orphaned Dick Grayson. And then Jason, and then Steph, and then Tim. Maybe Bruce will be the last in the end, but he has some graves to dig first.

“Take that stupid thing off,” Jason says, reaching for the mask.

Clint dodges away from his hand. Not like a flinch, like a habit. “Supposed to keep it on,” he says. “They told me. Coulson said. Whenever we’re out of our rooms, mask on.”

“Fucking Coulson,” Jason sneers. “What the fuck would he know? He’s new to being in charge. Yesterday, he was just one of us.”

“Hey,” Clint says, finally looking him in the eyes. “He’s nice.”

He says it soft, but those blunted arrows were soft too. He killed three monsters, saved dozens, and there was Jason, at damn near the same age, and he saved nobody, killed nothing.

Jason’s fourteen now. Sometimes he can feel the hunt like a shiver behind his eyes. He remembers, always, forever. The way his mother looked at him, the pathetic stretch of his open hand, the time he wasted screaming when he should’ve been going for a knife.

He keeps that monster caged in a stuffed bat, identical to Dick’s except for the red stitching. The first gift Bruce Wayne ever gave him.

Well, the second, if you count his life.

“That monster you couldn’t kill,” Jason says, “that big one. The mother. They’re gonna tell you they want you tame it. But it’s a lie. You’re too old. You’re an outsider. That’s not how the White Knights work. They’re gonna let it eat you.”

The Dark Knights are different, always have been. But White Knights fall in line. White Knights turn inward.

Clint looks at him, white mask blank and toothless against his face, erasing him until he’s just a pair of bloodshot blue eyes and hair so blonde that patches of it are still dyed faintly red. Three dead monsters, and a skinny wide-eyed kid. Just bait, Jason thought. Just a corpse still walking.

Looking at him now, there’s no bait, there’s no corpse. There’s a killer, staring back. The hunt that hums in Jason’s chest is an itch in his teeth. He feels like it’s humming in Clint, too. Not quite an echo, but a harmony, maybe.

Three dead monsters. It could be so many more.

“I want you to live,” Jason says. “We could kill so many of those bastards.”

Clint tilts his head. “I thought,” he says, still drawling through his vowels like he’s got time to waste, “that we were trying to save people.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, “sure. Whatever.”

That’s probably how the White Knights spin it. But Jason’s mask is black, and he doesn’t care how many people they save. The only person who mattered is already dead.

“C’mon,” Jason says, and this time, when he grabs Clint by the arm, he doesn’t dodge away. “I’m gonna teach you how to live.”

[electricprincess96]

What do you make of the change the New52 made with Catherine and Sheila in Jason's Death storyline?

Despise it. And I've argued with plenty of other so called Jason fans on this one. They all hated Sheila and were happy to see her removed from canon but the fact is all they did was give her story to Catherine thus tainting the one good person Jason had in his early childhood. Jason fans need to realise you're meant to hate Sheila, she sold a young boy, her own son out to the Joker. They also need to realise just cause someone is bad to Jason doesn't mean they shouldn't exist for the purposes of the story. Sheila being an awful mother, an awful person, is necessary for Jason's story while tainting Catherine with that storyline removes the one adult figure in Jason's life that he felt didn't actively seek to hurt him even if she still let him down in another way.

Jason feeling ostracised in Bruce's family, finding out Catherine wasn't his birth mother and realising he had a chance at a parental connection with someone who might appreciate him only for that woman to turn him over to the Joker is heartbreaking and contributes to Jason's later unwillingness to trust people (unless you're Talia cause for some reason DC and some Jason fans think that woman is a saint when she used Jason just as much as everyone else, if not worse in many ways and is no better than many of Batman's other Rogues). However, despite this betrayal Jason still tries to save Sheila in the end showing that despite what DC want us to think nowadays about Jason as Robin, he was good at heart, he died a hero, trying to save a woman who sold him out and watched as he was beaten bloody with a crowbar. This is integral of Jason's character, it shows that he was more than the cautionary tale that Batman and modern DC want to turn him into. He was a hero.

Also easily the worst part about the change in the New52 is it makes Jason's entire life the product of some scheme by the Joker. I hate that. Not everything in comic books needs to be some massive conspiracy. Sometimes things can just happen coincidentally. Jason was not the only orphan (or in this case fake orphan since Catherine was not dead in this scenario) on the streets, Batman could have stumbled across any of them, the fact he takes Jason in is entirely because of actions Jason chose to take, no one manipulated Jason into stealing the Batmobiles tyres.

For people who don't know basically in New52 Sheila was replaced with Catherine. Catherine was originally Jason's step mother in Post Crisis Canon but was changed here to be his biological mother. In original canon Jason's father was killed by Two-Face and Catherine died of an "illness" speculated to either be a drug overdose or some form of cancer that she took drugs to try and dull the pain. Regardless Jason ends up orphaned on the streets and then found by Batman when he steals the wheels off the Batmobile to try and sell them for money. Then Jason finds out Catherine is not his real mother and goes searching for Sheila and finds her in Ethiopia where she's working with the Joker (admittedly unwillingly but she's being blackmailed due to her stealing charity funds so honestly I don't feel bad for her in that situation) and Jason tells her he's Robin and can help her with the Joker and instead of taking him up on that offer she sells him out to the Joker.

In New52 the Joker meets Jason pre death of his parents and orchestrates everything. Willis Todd's death, he fakes Catherine's death to leave Jason "orphaned" so that he'll be taken in by Batman and made into Robin, he then threatens Jason by revealing Catherine is alive and that's how he gets Jason to the warehouse where he beats and kills him.

I just hate that. I hate the idea that the Joker basically controlled every part of Jason's life even BEFORE he killed him. Newer DC writers seem obsessed with Jason being a puppet to the Joker due to him being Red Hood, constantly tied to the clown rather than acknowledging Jason taking the name Red Hood is his way of regaining some agency in his own life by taking from the man who took from him. But to a degree I can understand thinking post resurrection Jason is in a way controlled by the Joker, his existence affects Jason. Having the young boy who thought being Robin made him magic also just turn out to be one of the Jokers sick pet projects is just callous, cruel and ultimately adds nothing substantial to Jason's character arc. It was poor writing and I'm thankful for the most part more modern comics seem to have tried to distance themselves from this god awful retcon and that fans seem to have never accepted it as canon to begin with.

The New52 Outlaws run had its moments but I'll he honestly I'm not a huge fan of Lobdell's storylines, overall characterisation wise i think he normally nailed Jason decently well but some of those plots were.... just not good. This is absolutely, 100% one of the worst ones.

[lovelylonelymoonlight]

submission i got

“I mean if you mean the Joker for “did you want him to SHOOT the mentally ill?” then yes I guess I do? This is a false dichotomy let’s be honest.”

not what i meant. the og post said something about bruce punching mentally ill people and that he was a pussy for not killing like Jason-ergo did you want him to shoot the mentally ill? 

“Like I could say hey its good that the Allies killed Nazis in WWII, and at the same time say many Allied soldiers did awful things to civilians especially in Japan and that’s bad. Do you think I would want Allied soldiers to kill everyone?”

i feel reallly uncomfortable talking about real world issues in relation to fun time comic fictional lets have fun stuff. discussing the issues of how we should handle “justice” is fun but not some much when in relation to the real hardships experienced by actual real people. 

“Maybe what people are really trying to say is Batman is an imperfect person who needs to adjust his methods based on who he is facing. He far too often uses extreme excessive violence when it isn’t needed. At the same time there are stories where he rejects any kind of violence even when used as self defense by people who do need it to protect themselves. As was the case in the Batman story with the woman who used violence to kill a serial rapist murder  that was abducting her. “

theres also plenty of stories where he equates rapist to inhuman monsters and does nothing about the people (like the birds of prey) who do murder them

i think batman’s biggest error is his inconsistent writing and bad faith interpretations rather than his methods. 

“You and I both know its a bad faith argument to say people want Bruce to murder mentally ill individuals. Maybe you could try to actually meet people with compassion and understanding and try to talk to people about their issues with comics. You may find a compromise. For example I think a lot of people would not care about the whole killing not killing thing if DC let the heroes actually rehabilitate villains and have it stick or provided better safety for civilians so that it was more elaborate thefts and less mass murder when it came to Batman stories.” 

okay again this whole argument is about fun silly comic drawing about characters soooo 

anyways yea I agree- we’ve seen a lot of success with harley quinn in relation to this. I think dc should start writing actual interesting stories about bruce that doesn’t paint him as absolutely terrible person/father. cause its a disservice to his character and the legacy of that character. 

if i was writting for dc theres a couple of things i would do! the joker needs to be fixed- his character is all over the place and im tired of it being written off as him being a twitsed cycle path-its boring. We the audience shouldn’t want the joker to die, and we should feel the same weight and guilt bruce does when faced with jason’s anger. i think making harley quinn an anti-hero is a step in the right direction ESPECIALLY if she was a villian villian (just as bad/worse than the joker himself) before. if we see a person finally take the chance that the batman gives them. Rehabilitation over death-theres always a chance. if one bad day can turn you into a villian one good one turn you into a hero. etc etc etc

on a more philosophical note- this whole discussion is really about what justice IS. and what it ISNT.

contrapoints (i know she has had controversies but not to due with this particular topic and i find she does a good job articulating her point but pls keep any biases she might or might not have when watching) has a video about justice that i would really recommend. 

ANYWAYS WHAT PART ABPUT NOT STARTING DISCOURSE DID YOU NOT GET ANONNNN HUHHHHHH

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (5)

[Masterlink] (PART 1) (PART 4)

-----

Mari and Cass sometimes switch their suits as they have the same body type. Cass would sometimes go out in full Hellbat gear and give the appearance that Hellbat is out more often than she actually is.

So Orphan/Black Bat also sometimes uses guns.

This also helps with concealing secret identities. Maria was rescued by Hellbat from Joker’s Henchmen. (Vicki Vale was getting sus of the new Wayne and Hellbat.)

Unfortunately since Hellbat rarely comes out and she had already made all of her appearance for the month and it wasn’t a busy weekend, the public had come to the conclusion that Hellbat has a crush on the newest Wayne.

Basically everyone thought that Mari has a crush on herself. Which led to some teasing and escalated to Mari announcing that Jason had a crush on Red Hood on live TV.

It didn’t help that a video of Red Hood and Jason re-enacting Romeo and Juliet with Jason on his apartment balcony and Red Hood on the roof was posted on the internet a few days later. (Thank you, Trixx and Tim’s awesome video editing skills)

Sadly, it was taken down 24 hours later. (Tim and the others have multiple copies of it, on the cloud or hardware, hidden around in the manor and their respective safehouses in the US.)

Some people kidnapped Jason to hopefully gain leverage over the Red Hood and to their dismay and nightmares for years to come, Hellbat came instead.

One lucky and incredibly brave reporter asked why she was there instead of her brother.

Mari being a little shit, “Red Hood may be a tough and scary guy but when it comes to his feelings, my brother is a chicken.”

Pictures of Jason tackling Hellbat somehow never made it into any papers.

The criminal underworld hasn’t taken a hint and Jason has been kidnapped a few more times.

Other times Jason was kidnapped:

Robin: Red Hood made a fool of himself in front of Todd recently and he doesn’t dare to show his face.

Spoiler: He was taking too damn long checking his hair even though I told him that no one was going to see it under his helmet and he was so offended that he is currently sulking in the bathroom.

Red Robin: Red Hood can’t think straight when he is around Jason. I mean have you seen the dude.

Arsenal*during a rare visit to Gotham*: Red Hood owes me one now.

Dick finally ends it by going out as Red Hood and rescuing Jason. Gotham is happy that Redson (Red Hood x Jason) ship has finally sailed.

-------

Kate, Babs, Cass, Steph and Mari were out on Mari’s first girls’ night since her move to the manor.

This is set a little after she came back from Paris with Jason.

They watched rom-com movies, did hair and nails, gossip about the superhero community and bitch and vent to each other.

Marinette off-handedly mentioned the crazy shits she had done during her stint as Ladybug. It started with asking about the T-rex in the Batcave and she mentions jumping into the mouth of a live one before.

Everyone in the room was shocked and after a few more questions, it was obvious that she was very reckless and self-sacrificing. Yep, she was going to fit into this crazy family just fine.

And Holy Shit. There is so much trauma packed into this kid. She needs lots of therapy.

Babs finally decided that they all needed to get out and have some fun. All in their respective suits and they went out.

Joined by Harley, Ivy and Selina.

Plagg came along because I want Plagg to meet Selina.

It was a chaotic night and it was a miracle that Bruce didn’t find out about what the girls did.

-------

Batman and Red Hood were on patrol together when Selina jumped in front of them.

“Hello, Boys”

“What do you want, Catwoman?”

“I want to meet my new prodigy, Kitty Noire.”

Cue Marinette jumping down from her hiding spot, transformed with the Black Cat Miraculous. “Hiya.”

Red Hood carries her like a potato sack and points his gun at the other two.

“Nope, she’s my sister and I called dibs. I adopted her. She’s off limits.”

“Legally, she’s mine.” Batman coughed out.

“I did it first. Emotionally. She’s my emotional support sister. You have plenty kids already, B and Selina, get your own.”

“Hey, I am still here and can hear you.”- Maria

-------

Alya was worried for Lila. She had been acting weirdly for the past month.

She looked very out of sorts. Her clothes weren’t in order and her hair was in disarray. She had bags under her eyes and her eyes looked wild. Lila didn’t look like herself at all.

She jumped at any sound and flinched at really sudden movements.

Alya tried to find out what was wrong with Lila and received vague answers.

One time Lila said that Marinette is to blame.

Alya reaches the somewhat right conclusion that Marinette was haunting Lila and hurting her because Lila used to come to school with bruises and claims that Marinette did it.

Alya goes to Marinette’s grave to desecrate it. (Yeah, go anger the ghost that is haunting someone.)

Unfortunately, the moment she tries to do something, the sky turns dark, clouds appear and the wind begins whipping. A Lightning strike near her and there was a cloaked figure beside her with a scythe.

All Alya saw from the figure was the blood-red lips in a very sharp grin and glowing blue eyes, raising the scythe high before she ran away. The scythe swiped the air where her head once was.

Alya didn’t get far before she tripped and blacked out.

When she woke up, she found herself in the hospital with no idea how she got there.

She was told that somebody found her with a concussion in the park and took her to the hospital.

------

The next one on Mari’s hit list was Natalie.

She wasn’t as involved in the whole thing like Lila, Adrien or Gabriel but she still did it anyways.

Her punishment is a little mild compared to the others and was more of a warning to Gabriel.

Natalie woke up in the middle of the night to see a not-so-dead Ladybug sitting on her vanity chair with the moonlight from the windows illuminating her body and her neck. Her suit was torn exactly like the day of that battle with blood dripping down her arms and from her open wounds. The shadows kept her face hidden but glowing blue eyes stared at her.

Natalie was scared at first. But she regained her normal cool composure.

“I assume you are here to extract your revenge for aiding in your unfortunate demise. But before you kill me, I regret my part in my entire thing and I apologize for everything I have done against you even though I knew it was wrong.”

“At least you show remorse over what you have done. Visiting my grave when even my parents didn’t and leaving flowers. I love those purple hyacinths by the way. Did you know that they mean sorry in the language of the flowers?”

“Why are you stalling my death? Just kill me already.”

“Madam Sancouer. You just played a minor role in my downfall compared to what Adrien and Lila Rossi did to me. And you showed more guilt over your actions than they ever did and Adrien claimed to have loved me. And like I have told the Bats, Death is too swift of a punishment.”

“Who are the bats?”

“None of your concern. You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Lila sees the ghosts of her past and they haunt her. Adrien is in a living nightmare and has no control over his actions and is despised by everyone. What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, since you show some guilt over your actions, let me tell you a little secret. I am not dead. Not really. I mean I did die. But there was a spell in the grimoire that revived me. It took a few days to work.”

Marinette changed to her normal form. It was a little jarring to see an older Marinette Dupain-Cheng sitting on her vanity chair like it was a throne. The Ladybug suit and the wounds were gone. She looked a little familiar.

“Why are you telling me this? What was the point?” Natalie faltered as she wondered why the girl looked familiar. Marinette moved closer and her face was fully illuminated by the moonlight.

“I intend to take everything by which I mean everything from Gabriel Agreste for what he did.”

“M. Agreste just wanted his wife back. You just gave him your Miraculous, you would still have everything.”

“What difference would it make? Sure I had friends and family before but they turned out to be disappointing. I might have become a famous designer like I dreamed of and can't achieve because I died. Besides, he never said about wanting his wife to come back in his tedious monologues. For all we knew back then, he wanted them for world domination. He showed that he would end the world for them. For kwamis’ sake, he nearly started World War III, just for a pair of earring and a ring. He was willing to kill me to have her back. No wait, he did that too. If he actually read the translated grimoire or asked the Guardian or at least someone with magic for help instead or maybe used his head and made some who can heal as his champion using the Butterfly, we wouldn’t even be in this mess. Face it, Mme Sancour, your boss is a power-hungry and very controlling maniac who is also thankfully an idiot.”

“But- he- he just-. You are just a child, what do you know? M. Agreste knew what he was doing.”

“A child who had a normal life up until he tried to ruin it with his idiotic schemes and hiring Lila to do it. A child who had to fight a war on her own.”

“I am sorry you had to go through that but I doubt you and your little revenge rampage is going to solve anything.”

Ghostly Chains wrapped around Natalie’s body, squeezing tight like it was squeezing the life out of her.

“I was all for sparing you, you know. If you had actually listened to my side of the story, you would have spared from my ‘little revenge rampage’. This is going to be a little painful. Sorry about that.” In a tone that was definitely not sorry.

Pain coursed through Natalie’s body. Her skin crawled and itched as pitch back feathers grew out of it. Her bones turned to dust and reformed.

Where Natalie Sancour once was, there was a raven.

An omen of death and destruction for one Gabriel Agreste.

Marinette leaned down towards the raven. Natalie tried to peck her eye out but Marinette held the beak in a firm grip.

“Ah. ah ah. Luckily for you this is temporary. Mostly. Every night, you will assume this shape and each night the longer you will stay in this form. Slowly counting down the days until Gabriel’s downfall. Since you love helping him so much, you are going to help him know how long he has to live. The night you are a raven from sunset to sunrise, that sunrise starts the day Gabriel Agreste will be utterly destroyed.”

She released the beak and headed towards the window.

"Send him my regards."

With that, she was gone.

(Part 6)

[angelz-dust]

masters of none - part 4 (jason todd x reader)

summary: after many months, we are back in action and back in reader’s head. pls enjoy these jason crumbs. if you need a refresher on the plot, the other chapters will be linked below!

word count: 3.7k

warnings: food/eating. alcohol. cursing.

part 1 /// part 2 //// part 3

gravity

ever since i ever felt ya, right there life couldn't seem better. tulip flowers in my sweater. ask me now, is this forever?

…

you rested your chin on the table before you, your arms hanging limply between your knees as you listened to your manager, dana. you were really just watching her mouth open and close while she pointed at a powerpoint. god, what you would've given for an extra hour of sleep. the all nighters in the studio were starting to take a toll. 

the feeling of the back of daisy’s soft hands brought you back to earth. the smell of cocoa butter dancing beneath your nostrils as her smooth engagement ring rolled across your cheek. you breathed in her smell, exhaling in content through your nose.

“you good?” she mouthed and you closed your eyes, giving her a little nod. the bassist rubbed her calloused fingers against your forehead, pushing strands of your hair past your hairline. you pouted when she eventually pulled away, leaving you only with the sensation of touch that once was.

you heard tyler shift in his seat and then felt some air graze against your hand. you looked under the table, noticing he was holding something out to you. you two made eye contact briefly before you scooted back in, grabbing what felt like an envelope. looking down at your lap, you saw a sticky note attached to it. jason’s money was what it said. you carefully put the envelope in your jacket pocket, sitting back in your seat now and looking at dana’s powerpoint. she was going over reports from your publicist, jerry, which you didn't particularly care about.

“now, i have to ask,” dana’s words pierced your bubble of inattention. “have you all thought about what i said about this next album?”

jordy raised his hand like a school kid. “yes?”

“y/n and i decided that we'd be okay with making our album a group project. it has been, admittedly, kinda hard and boring without everyone else. we’d honestly be doing ourselves a disservice by not doing it together,” jordy explained, dana clapping her hands together.

“wonderful,” she nodded, keeping her hands clasped. “i know you two were excited to do your own thing, but i was talking to jerry and he was really pressing me to get a group album from you guys. the people wanna see you guys as a unit of established artists, which you all are. so what's the concept? we never discussed it.”

“uh,” you verbally paused, raising your arms above your head to stretch. “disco, jazz, and funk. it's a mix of those.”

“retro is in right now,” dana nodded, pacing around the room. “how far back will this set us on a release date?”

you grimaced, leaning back in your seat, the back of the seat lightly bouncing as it absorbed your weight. you pondered the question for a moment. “if it’s gonna be a group thing, it'll have to be significantly longer. we have a decent starting off point but i'm gonna need way more songs now.”

“what about the rest of you? any tracks that we could swing?” dana asked, looking at the rest of the group. 

grabbing a pen and piece of scrap paper, you started jotting down notes as everyone spoke out to you. dex and quinton didn’t have anything, but they wouldn’t be a problem. you just needed to give them a beat to rap over and you’d be set. the twins had a finished song already that fit the concept, which was good. with tyler’s voice and aly’s excellent song writing abilities, you doubted very seriously that anything else needed to be done to it. daisy and hector had plenty of lyricless songs, too. funk and soul was their specialty, after all. misha even had a demo track she was willing to share. 

you looked over the notes you had taken, tapping your pen on the table as you hummed to yourself. “this could probably work. we’ll need to go over everything in the studio, though.”

“we should just do it now. no one is doing shit else today, right?” dex asked the group, who all shook their head. 

“i have a request,” you raised your finger, looking at dana. “i want gotham to be involved in this project.”

“gotham…” dana repeated slowly, unsure of what you meant. “care to elaborate?”

“music videos directed by student directors from gotham university, commissioning local artists for album art. dancers, actors, musicians, whatever. all of them have to be from gotham. i don't want any of the money we put into this project leaving this city,” you stated firmly, dana giving you a blank look. 

“i like that idea,” hector said, giving you a kind smile before turning to dana, shifting in his seat. the drummer was like a big brother, always backing you up in moments like these. “accessibility to the arts is really limited here and we should change that.”

“i’d rather give back to the city, too,” quinton agreed, playing with the gold cross hanging from his neck. “we’re one of the only groups in gotham known outside of gotham. we should use that as an opportunity to rep our city.”

“it sounds like you have your minds made up on this,” dana narrowed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “it would definitely be good PR.”

“because god forbid we do something out of the kindness of our hearts,” misha laughed, rolling her eyes. “we're trying to put the city on and you're worried about how it makes us look.”

“that's my job, misha. don't you want me to do my job?” dana retorted. “besides, i'm more concerned with the funding. you all don't have disposable income, believe it or not.”

“but i know someone who does,” she said with a singsong tone, giving you a look.

“i hope you're not referring to me,” you deadpanned. your income was far from disposable.

“i’m referring to our good friend, bruce wayne,” she explained, grabbing a business card out of her purse, handing it over to dana. “ever since i got invited to that charity gala, i've had a direct line to a representative with the wayne foundation. i say we ask them to help fund the project.”

“now that could work,” dana admitted, eyeing the card as she tapped her foot. “if we pitch for more youth involvement, it'll probably go over better. we all know how much bruce wayne loves saving the children.”

you frowned at how dana described bruce’s initiatives as a philanthropist. you were sure his motivations for favoring youth projects were good intentioned, considering his parents had been killed when he was just a little boy. you wanted to go into this good intentioned, too and you hoped that they'd agree. they being the wayne foundation and subsequently, bruce himself.

“ty and quinton could do something with forrester. if we’re going for the youth involvement route, i mean,” aly spoke up. 

“forrester correctional. our old stomping grounds,” quinton sighed wistfully as he patted tyler on the shoulder. “i think that would be a good idea.”

“they use the arts as an outlet for them, so it could be beneficial for everyone,” tyler nodded. “there are a lot of good kids there. just unfortunate circumstances, that’s all.”

“wasn’t one of bruce’s son’s a troublemaker before he was adopted?” aly continued, not noticing the look you and tyler shared. “i’m sure he’d probably be interested in doing something with them if his son comes from the same background.”

“it’s settled, then. you all keep working on the music. jerry and i will handle the rest. we need this album out before hector and daisy’s wedding,” dana said, grabbing her suitcase. 

…

hey, i have your money. did you still want it?

you stared down at the unsent message, your thumb floating over the send arrow. you hadn’t spoken to jason since that night after the race, as per his request. your mind kept wandering back to it, even as time still went on. what happened was scary, to say the least. fun, but scary. you wondered how the hell jason didn’t get the two of you killed. that part, you didn't want to think about too hard. everyone in gotham had their secrets and it was an unspoken rule amongst citizens to not pry. secrets were secrets for a reason. nothing good ever came from unearthing them.

speaking of secrets, you hadn't exactly told tyler and quinton what happened that night. not in detail. you conveniently left out the chase and stopping to get something to eat. omitting the first part was obvious, but the second one was for your own sanity. you didn't need them teasing you over nothing. besides, all that mattered was no one was dead or arrested. and for the way the three of you used to get down, that was a win. 

you considered texting jason earlier this week, just to check in on him, but you decided against it. he obviously wanted you to text him and you obviously had to do the opposite. his little mind game wasn’t going to work on you. you pressed send, frowning immediately as you did so.

maybe it already had.

“it’s too many people in this bitch,” dex sighed, the cold of the water bottle you had asked him for against your hand bringing you back to reality. blinking, you were suddenly very aware of the chaos surrounding you in the studio as you put your phone back in your pocket. you looked to your left, where jordy was leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. to your right was aly, who was scribbling in her songbook in the chair next to you. you remembered you were supposed to be working, too. “we need a new stu.”

“i’m working on it!” hector hollered from inside the booth as he and daisy were setting up equipment and instruments. you glanced up at the glass in front when you heard his voice, accidentally catching the pair share a little kiss. you quickly averted your gaze, smiling to yourself.

“new stu, new view, what it do?” quinton began to freestyle to a beat he was making on the coffee table in front of him. “off 92, posted up with southside crew.” 

“okay,” dex laughed, noddinh his head as he was vibing with the beat, making his way out of your line of sight. you heard someone, presumably tyler, join in and add some depth to the beat. it sounded like he was hitting a pencil against a shot glass.

“i got a new boo, but i’m tryna slide with misha, too,” quinton continued, dex adlibbing in the back as quinton lowered his voice to his signature melodic whisper. “on the low, nobody gotta know.”

“would you shut the fuck up?” you heard misha say, followed by a barrage of muffled smacking noises and verbal objections from quinton, who you assumed was on the receiving end of what sounded like an assault by pillow.

laughing to yourself, you leaned your head in aly’s direction, not fully facing her. “pass me the flash drive?” you held your hand out weakly. once you felt the plastic in your palm, you leaned back over and put it into the computer, pulling up the proper files. 

“we’re done back here,” daisy smiled at you, she and hector coming out from the booth. 

you clapped your hands together. “wonderful. everybody shut up, please.”

you pulled up the twin’s song and let it play, your eyes fixed on the colorful audio loops on the screen. the green ones were tyler’s vocals, the purple were aly’s. it looked like blue was reserved for instruments and red was any added sound effects or layered sounds. 

“you two sound really great,” jordy walked up behind aly’s seat, leaning against it as he swayed his head to the beat. 

“thanks. i wrote it with our mother in mind,” aly said, the words coming out of her mouth uncomfortably. you placed your hand on hers and gave it a little squeeze, which earned you a look of appreciation.

“it's missing something, though,” tyler scratched the back of his head. “i need the producer squad to give us some assistance.”

“oh, say less,” dex laughed, snapping his fingers to the beat with one hand and holding his glass of hennessy in the other. he danced his way over, taking aly’s seat as she, tyler and jordy moved to give you all some space. 

misha sauntered her way over, sitting against the table and flipping her hair over her shoulder. the smell of her sweet perfume floated in the air around you. “i think it just needs some fluffing up. some snapping might work. more vocal layering in certain spots.”

“i agree,” you nodded, dex letting out a satisfied sigh as he took a sip of his cold drink. 

“is it good?” misha asked him teasingly and he took his final swig, letting out a more dramatic and drawn out sigh. this time, though, it was on beat with the song. you were pretty sure it was unintentional on his part, since he and misha just shared a laugh before returning their attention to the screen.

after a moment of pondering, you swiveled around in your chair, looking at tyler. “okay, hear me out…”

…

two weeks of very diligent working between the nine of you had given you a lot to work with for the album. all that was left was to start putting things together. you still had a ways to go, but you had a good starting off point. as much as you hated to admit it, it was a good call on dana’s part to have you all do a group album. the fans seemed to be greatly anticipating the release and the work ethic the nine of you shared was incredible. even in that cramped little studio, you all made it work.

you all agreed to take the day off, but you were still working at some capacity. you had just traded one small space for another, working in your walk-in closet/home studio for the day. you still needed said walk-in to function as a closet, so there were still garment bags pushed up into a corner and shoe boxes haphazardly stacked, surrounding your desk that you had shoved in there. there was just enough space for you to move your chair and safely get out without twisting an ankle, a fate you often flirted with in that room.

in the spirit of your day off, you hadn't done anything too difficult. you were just trying to decide what order you wanted the completed songs to go in. it may seem like an insignificant detail, but the order was important. the transitions between songs couldn't be jarring for the listener. everything had to flow together with natural progression. at this point, it didn't matter since you weren't done with the album, but it was just giving you an idea of how to fill the gaps with future songs. 

the sound of your growling stomach indicated that it was time to stop for the day. you quickly saved all your work and headed to the kitchen. you popped some leftovers in the microwave and scrolled on twitter while you waited. the microwave beeped at you, so you set your phone back down and grabbed the bowl, mixing up the contents with your fork. the flash of light coming from your phone got your attention. a text notification.

are you home?

oh, so now he wanted to respond? cute.

despite your annoyance with the situation, you quickly responded with a yes and set the phone back down. you leaned against the counter, eating what little food you had in your reheated bowl. you mixed the contents around with your fork, grumbling. stupid jason and his stupid inability to text back. he could have at least had the decency to leave you on read. he probably didn't even have read receipts on. you weren't sure which was worse. tossing your now empty bowl into the sink, you grabbed your phone to read his next message.

i’ll be over soon. 

soon was very vague and you wished that you would've demanded an exact time, but that opportunity had passed by the time you thought about it. you busied yourself with tidying up, trying to make your place look presentable. you even lit your new candle, which you found yourself focusing your attention on while you waited for him to show up. staring at the flame was much more entrancing than you anticipated.

you heard the door buzzer go off. you weren't expecting anyone else, so it had to be him. you leaned against the wall, pressing your finger to the button.

“who goes there?” you presented the question as a joke, but your tone was a little flat.

“it’s the irs,” jason’s voice came through and you buzzed him in. 

not too long after, you heard him knock on the door. you cracked it open and the first thing you noticed was his cologne. it was a strong but pleasant scent. spicy and sweet. it was very intoxicating, actually. so much so that you almost forgot you were angry at him.

“hi.”

“hello.”

you opened the door fully and handed the envelope to him. jason eyed it suspiciously. he opened it up and began to count it out in front of you. he made an effort to do it very slow, the sound of the crisp dollars echoing in the quiet hall. his eyes stayed glued to yours as he counted out loud. you leaned against the doorframe as you watched.

“six… seven… eight,” he said, pulling out his wallet and stuffing it with the cash. “thought you would've skimmed some off the top.”

“i should have with how long you made me wait,” you said matter of factly, letting your annoyance be known now. 

“i know. i’m sorry,” he sounded honest but you couldn't see it in his face or in his eyes, which was worrisome. it was a nice alternative to listening to a sputter of excuses, though. “let me make it up to you?”

“how do you plan on doing that?”

“i’m so glad you asked,” he smiled. “as it turns out, i've recently come into some money. let me spend it on you?”

“so you like throwing money at your problems?” you asked him. well, you weren't really asking. it was more like you were telling him. 

“no,” he said, sounding a little offended. “i just thought-”

“you just thought that throwing money at me would make me forget about the fact that you ignored me for a month.”

“no, no,” he shook his head, sighing in frustration. “listen, i-”

“i really don't wanna hear it,” you said honestly, watching as his frustrated look turned into kicked puppy. you almost felt bad. “i don't like feeling stupid, jason. that's how i feel right now. i want you to make it up to me but you'll have to be a bit more creative than this.”

“you want me to make it up to you?” jason had repeated, confusion on his face. 

you poked him harshly in the chest. “you do that or you leave me alone. those are your options. goodbye.”

you shut the door in his face and let out the breath you were holding in. you weren’t sure how jason was going to react to your little ultimatum, but those were your terms. you liked him but you weren’t going to stress over someone you barely knew, especially with your assumptions about him floating around in your head. 

“i’ll be right back,” you heard him say through the door, catching you off guard. 

“what?”

“don’t go anywhere.”

you didn’t respond but you heard his footsteps getting quieter as he walked down the hall. the elevator ding indicated that he had left. you stood there, confused as to what it was he was trying to do. you were still stewing in your negative emotions, so you went and busied yourself again. you decided the dishes needed washing and got on it right away. in the middle of scrubbing the stubborn sauce stains out of your plate, you heard your door buzzer go off again. 

so he did come back after all. interesting.

you buzzed him in like you did before and waited by the door for him. he knocked and when you opened it, you were met with two gifts: a bouquet of pink tulips and a small box of something from the bakery around the corner. 

“i shouldn’t have ignored you. it was rude and stupid and i’m sorry. it won’t happen again,” he said to you, holding out the items to you. you hesitantly accepted them, taking the opportunity to look through the plastic opening of the box to see chocolate covered strawberries. 

“it better not happen again,” you pouted, looking up at him. you had to appreciate the effort he put in at such short notice. it was a sweet gesture and he actually looked sorry this time. 

“it won’t,” he assured you and you smiled.

“i forgive you. but you’re on thin fucking ice,” you reminded him and he grinned at you with a nod.

“i’m going to make it up to you. just you wait,” he said confidently. “not all of us are naturally creative like you, though. you gotta give me some time to think of something else.”

“seems like you’re getting your feet wet with the flower selection,” you noted, taking a whiff of the delicate and fresh scent. they’d look nice on your coffee table.

“lady at the shop said they would convey my sincerest apologies,” he explained, a hopeful look in his eyes. “did it work?”

“for now,” you shrugged, setting the items down on the table next to the door. 

“i can accept that.”

“you’re gonna have to because that’s all i’m giving you,” you said firmly. his charm wasn’t going to get him out of this one. not completely. “now go away. i want to eat my berries in peace.”

“i’ll text you as soon as i get the chance,” he told you as you were shutting the door. you peered at him, narrowing your eyes before shutting it again. “i’m serious!”

“goodbye, jason!” you said through the door. you heard his faint farewell as you walked away, plopping on the couch with your dessert in hand.

were you still a little mad at him? yes. but you weren’t going to pass up free stuff, even if you had made all that fuss about the money earlier. at least the gifts had some thought behind them. so long as he held up his end of the deal, you had a feeling being friends with jason wouldn’t be that bad.

hopefully, anyway.

[chocolate1721]

Hello chocolatiers here is a new idea, and this is one of my altime favorites so far.

Ok so, Marinette and Jason are siblings who got separated. Jason is adopted by Bruce and Marinette is adopted by Tom and Sabine. Jason becomes Robin and dies. Marinette is informed of his death but isn’t able/allowed to attend the funeral. She never meets Bruce. Marinette is bullied by Chloe and then Lila and the class. She becomes ladybug and chat is useless.

Even though things in class are tough. Marinette makes a fabulous class trip. She has them set to go to New York (with tours of Stark Industries, and New York Times along with Broadway production tickets), then they are to go to Starling City (where they get to tour Queen industry, and their parks), next they go to Central City (they have some basic tours of some museums and stuff), finally they will end in Gotham (tour Wayne Enterprise and the gardens).

Marinette had a good time in New York, Lila lies all day every day, but she ignored it. They had a fligh to Starling City and Marinette had to use the restroom or something before they left, but when she got back to the gate the plane was gone, and so was her class. She had no clothes (those were on the plane) and she didn’t have a lot of money. She was having a hard time breathing when all of a sudden Tony f*cking Stark struts his way over to her and helps her breath again (couldn’t decide if she has a panic or anxiety attack).

Tony and Peter were coming back from Wakanda. Peter knoticed Marinette and points her out to Tony, making some joke of if she is a lost Stark or something. Tony looks at Marinette and immediately knows she is having an attack, he knows how that feels, so he immediately goes over to her and helps her through it. He finds out that Marinette got left behind by her class and this pisses Tony off. He then tells her he can/will help her out. All three of them then head to the Avenger’s Tower.

[[More]]

She meets the Avengers, and she is totally normal. No stuttering, spasming, tripping, or anything but treating them like they are normal. This intrigues the Avengers. They invite her to watch some of them train while Tony looks into getting her back to her class. While she watches them train she ends up handing Steve his shield (like it was a piece of paper), and Thor his hammer (like it was nothing), this shocks everyone.

Steve: Hey Thor, does this mean this kid is now the new ruler of Asgard?

Thor: . . . . . I must introduce her to the Allfather. Come child of earth.

Tony: *runs into the room, body slamming the door on his way in* DONT GO WITH HIM!!!!!!! IM ADOPTING HER!

Pepper: *appears from nowhere* no you’re not

Peter and Marinette become close friends. The hulk also meets Marinette. The team is worried, but Hulk just kinda picks her up and says “Baby” and tries to burp her. . . . . . . . Tony gets plenty of pictures of this. Marinette is a grumpy sunshine child, and she threatens Tony and Peter if they post any of those pictures.

Tony tells Marinette that he has a friend in town that lives in Starling City and he has agreed to take her with him when he returns home. Marinette will be getting picked up in a few hours, so Tony, Peter, Steve, Thor, and Pepper take Marinette out to get some clothes. This ends in chaos, mayhem, emotional trauma, and the Avengers learn how truly terrifying teenager girls are. Pepper is now wanting to adopt Marinette.

Later that evening Oliver Queen and Roy Harper show up at Avenger tower to pick Marinette up. Roy thinks she will be like all the other girls he knows, shallow and a gold digger or a super hero. He isn’t prepared for the absolute angel that is Marinette. He is love struck, and he becomes the gentleman that Oliver has tried to teach him to be. The only thing Oliver is thinking is “did Bruce get another one?”

Marinette and Roy hit it off very well (roynette is endgame people) they talk for hours. They exchange numbers. Oliver finds out that no, she isn’t adopted by Bruce <not yet anyway>. But she was born in Gotham, she had an older brother who died when she was younger. Oliver found out she is MDC and immediately wanted to commission a suit. She agreed and they were talking suit styles and colors until they arrived in front of her hotel in Starling City. They told her not to hesitate if she needed anything.

Her class didn’t even knotice she was missing. She got her room key and went to sleep. The next morning she was the first one up and downstairs. The breakfast pasteries were gross so she went to the kitchen and taught the staff how to make a good crossaint. She was putting a fresh batch out in the buffet area when her classmates arrived. Lila pauses when she saw her. How had Marinette gotten here? She made sure to destroy her plane ticket. Anyway Lila lies the entire trip as well. She convinces Max to hack into Marinette’s phone and change her alarms. On the day they head to Central City, Marinette’s alarm goes off 30 minutes after the bus leaves.

Marinette sighs and calls Roy. Roy is pissed that her teacher left her behind AGAIN. So he calls up Barry Alan (I watch the Flash tv show so those are the characters I will be using). Roy tells him about how the teacher is incompetent and left a student behind. Roy arrives to pick Marinette up, only to see two guys hitting on her. Roy stops that sh*t real quick. Then they head to Central City. They swing by Star Labs and Marinette meets Barry and his friends. They fall in love with Marinette. She is sweet and kind and adorable. Barry sees her as an innocent sister who must be protected. They take her to her class. He convinced the chief to let the class come visit the precinct. Lila is taking credit for everything, while Marinette gives out pasteries that she made at Star Labs. The officers love Marinette, especially Joe. He sees his daughter in Marinette. Some of the officers offered to teach the class some self defense, in case they were in trouble, and they refused to say how scared they were when Marinette took them down. It was way too easy for her to take them down. The tall kid with frosted tips didn’t do half as well as she did. Roy and Barry only seen that level of skill on hero’s or black belts. Lila started gushing about how she trained with some famous martial artist but had to stop due to her arthritis. The class got held hostage by Captain Cold. Marinette distracts him long enough for the hostages to escape, and the police and hero’s to arrive. She talked about everything from how he could make more money by hiring himself out as a ice machine to people in third world countries to his lack of fashion. By the time the hero’s arrived she was redesigning his entire wardrobe. He was just confused. The officers that arrived on the scene recognized Marinette and were horrified that her class left her in the hands of a criminal. Marinette just brushed it off as no big deal, she was used to it. This had them in near tears. The Flash helped her get back to the hotel. Barry was freaking pissed, so he took a couple pictures with Marinette, took her to get ice cream, and then took her back to her hotel; all before the class arrived.

When the class did arrive at the hotel they started accusing Marinette of working with Cold, but then they saw the Flash. Alya immediately started interviewing him. Only for him to snatch her phone out of her hand and delete the video. She wasnt happy about that, but Barry didn’t care. He stalked over to Bustier and started tearing her apart for abandoning a student. He then went to the police chief and let him know what happened.

Joe finds out what happened and knows that the class’s next stop is Gotham. He calls an old friend, Gordon, and tells him what’s going on and to keep an eye out for Marinette. Gordon agreed but doesn’t think that any teacher can be that stupid.

.

.

.

He is proven wrong when he goes to greet the class only to find that Bustier left Marinette behind. Gordon is dumbfounded, then furious when she said that Marinette can handle herself. Gordon then calls for a manhunt for this child. 15 minutes later he gets a call from Bruce that he has Marinette in his custody. He has permission from her parents to take care of her while she is in Gotham. Gordon starts compiling evidence of criminal neglect to send to the French Board of Education.

Roy was woken up to a call from Marinette. She got left behind again. He calls his friend Jason and tells him about what’s going on and if it’s ok if he stays with him until Marinette goes back to France. Jason,doesn’t know this is his sister, says yes. Roy and Marinette become an official couple on the way to Gotham. Bruce is trying to get everything ready for a non hero to come to their house, even if only for a few hours.

What no one expected was, when Alfred led them into the house. For Marinette and Jason to lock eyes, and for Mari to body check Jason. They also didn’t expect for Marinette and Jason to start crying, or for them to be siblings. Marinette slapped Jason a few times for making her think he died.

Roy pales when he realizes that Jason is her brother. Jason is furious at Roy for dating his sister. Marinette tried to keep her brother from killing her boyfriend, which is a struggle. She tells Bruce what happened with her class and he excused himself to go call her parents and inform them of what has happened. They give him permission to take care of their daughter while she is in Gotham. He also sets up future visits for Marinette to come to Gotham.

While Bruce is away, Damian arrives, sees a new dark haired minor, and immediately concludes his father has adopted another. He then proceeds to attack her, but Marinette takes a sword from a nearby knight and parries him. She barley keeps him at bay, when he realizes that she has some very basic knowledge of swordsmanship. He stops attacking her and starts teaching her. Thus an impenetrable sibling bond has formed. She cookes with Alfred. Dick teaches her how to trapieze. She gives Tim her illegal coffee recipe. Her and Jason talk for hours.

She also finds the Batcave. Only because she went to the library and tried getting a book, that happened to be the hidden enterance. She chews Bruce out for not dealing with the Joker in time to save her brother. She was just letting out her frustrations and everyone knew it. She met Louis and Clark, who she pulled to the side and told him to find a better disguise because it is obvious he is superman. She pats his shoulder and walks away. Louis slips Bruce $10.

Bruce invites the class to the Wayne Gala and provides clothes for them to wear. Marinette refuses the offer and makes her own dress. She also makes gifts for the Batfam.

Marinette is finally able to see Lila’s lies fall apart, at the Gala, and she refuses to forgive the class. What they did is not something that she can get over that easily. All of the abuse, the lack of loyalty, the manipulation, and demand for her time, energy, and supplies to give them what they want. She. Is. Done. She burned those bridges.

When the class is heading back to Paris their notifications go off. They are getting tagged in pictures of Marinette with the Avengers, Oliver Queen and Roy Harper, of the Central City Police force, with the Flash, with the Wayne’s, and Louis and Clark. They were shocked. How could Marinette get the opportunity to meet all of these people when she was with them the entire time. That’s when they realized, she wasn’t with them. The only time they remember seeing her is when they were on tours or she suddenly appeared in the places they were heading to. She was never with them when they left.

[triscribe]

Swing Batter Batter

Part of a larger fic posted on AO3 over here, in which token metahuman abilities are pretty common, and it’s not unusual to encounter a circus kid who can fly, or a cop who gets impressions of a person’s intentions when shaking their hand, or in this case, a street thief with super strength. 

-Swing-

When he registered the Bat standing over him, Jason didn’t think, he just grabbed and swung as hard as he could. If he’d been a regular scrawny street kid, he didn’t doubt the tire iron would just bounce off with barely a bruise to show for the effort. But Jason stopped counting as ‘regular’ last year, and his skinny arms were plenty strong enough to land a blow that knocked the Bat clear off his feet.

Jason then promptly ran for his life.

He made it to the end of the alley and swerved first around the corner, and again into the narrow gap between wall and dumpster. There he froze, heart pounding, hands shaking, as he waited for either Batman’s footsteps to go past his hiding place like so many others, or for one of those big hands to grab his hoodie and yank him out into the open.

...a couple minutes of nothing went by.

...and then a few more.

Jason’s heart kept pounding at breakneck speed, but shifted from running on adrenaline to fear. He eased himself back out from behind the dumpster, and peeked around the alley corner. Just to double check; maybe the Bat decided to chase him from above, and that fourth tire could be retrieved after all-

Except two thick-soled boots were laying next to the fancy car.

Shit.

He’d killed the Bat.

Shit shit shit - every crook in Gotham would be out for Jason’s blood, looking to curbstomp the little pest trying to make a name for himself. Or worse, someone nuts would show up like the effing Joker in order to get revenge over not getting to off the Bat himself-

One boot shifted. A deep voice wheezed. Jason nearly fell over in relief.

And then, because the Bat didn’t move again, and because Jason was an idiot of the worst kind, he edged his way back towards the car and the crimefighter lying prone beside it. “Uh. Batman? You gonna be okay?”

Another wheeze. Jason got close enough to peek around the car’s fender, and saw the man just staring upwards through the narrowed lenses of his mask. It took a second, but the Bat could apparently tell when he was being watched, because he tilted his head and the lenses opened up a little more so he could stare back. “...’f Robin were here,” the man grumbled, “He’d ask, if you swing for the Knights...”

Jason’s face spasmed as he tried not to laugh. “Nope. Maybe when I’m older, if they pay good.”

Batman snorted, and then wheezed again, one hand starting to grab for his stomach only to stop and clench into a fist. “Got the same spot, as Killer Croc, two nights ago.”

At that, Jason winced. He’d only ever seen Croc in newspaper pictures before, but the guy was definitely huge, and it didn’t take a leap of logic to assume he hit hard, too. “Uh. Sorry?”

The Bat gave an aborted huff. Slowly, he pushed himself up, palms flat to the ground. Then he rolled, to pull one knee underneath himself, and gradually stood while leaning against the car. Jason made sure to keep out of arm’s reach.

After that, the man just braced himself and breathed for a minute, before shifting enough to once again peer down at Jason. “I assume you took the tires to sell.”

He nodded.

“How much?”

Jason lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Depends on which chop shop I take ‘em to. At least a hundred apiece, maybe a bonus if I get all four.” That probably wouldn’t be an option, seeing as he’d wasted enough time for the Bat to get back to his feet. Honestly, Jason needed to run at this point, but he still felt kinda bad. Batman was just about the only good thing in Gotham as far as working folks were concerned, and even if he wasn’t dead, it didn’t seem right to leave him alone and hurting in Crime Alley...

Jason blinked when a roll of green suddenly appeared in front of his face. “Five hundred,” Batman said dryly, “If you bring back the other three.”

Well hot damn.

In the space of twenty minutes, Jason not only brought back the tires he’d spirited off, he went ahead and put ‘em back on the car, just ‘cause the Bat didn’t seem inclined to bend and use his stomach muscles any time soon. And besides, five hundred dollars. That would be food and rent and even new clothes when the weather turned cold. 

As he worked, though, Jason couldn’t help but feel Batman’s gaze on him. It didn’t seem angry, didn’t raise the hairs on the back of his neck like when certain guys leered, but he still started to feel just the slightest bit antsy. And then, right as he was tightening up the bolts on the final tire, the Bat made his move. “You don’t want to go into foster care, do you.”

Jason scoffed at that.

“Have you been flagged as a meta?”

“‘Course not, never told anyone. Didn’t get strong until after I was on my own, and I’m not stupid enough to put a target on my back to get ‘recruited’ by any of the gangs.”

The Bat hummed.

-Swing-

Jason Peter Todd-Wayne

Date of Birth: August 16th, 1996

No Known Meta Abilities

“Man, rich people get away with anything,” Jason huffed. “Park wherever you want, buy shit you’re not s’posed to have, falsify your paperwork...”

Bruce just grunted, but it was an agreeable sound rather than an annoyed one. And, privately, Jason couldn’t help but feel pleased by the adoption paperwork, his brand new name right at the top of the page.

Which just left the matter of deciding on his other name.

When Bruce had found the pages torn out of a notebook with costume designs sketched out and messy notes in the margins, he’d glanced at Jason out of the corner of his eye and haltingly said he could be the new Robin. And part of Jason felt thrilled by the idea, but-

But.

Robin flew. He soared around skyscrapers, did somersaults mid-air, zipped along just above the ground to take crooks out at the knees. Jason didn’t do that - Jason couldn’t do any of that. The closest he’d ever get to flight would be grappling from perch to perch like Batman did. Which, admittedly, was really insanely awesome, but still.

Jason couldn’t be Robin.

-Swing-

...at least, not until he sat on the Manor roof one evening a few weeks later with Dick Grayson, who sighed and smiled at him. “You could wear them, y’know. My colors. My suit.”

“But- our powers-”

“Are different,” Dick agreed, “But that just means we bring different strengths to the playing field. Literal strength, in your case.” He grinned and ruffled Jason’s hair.

Batting away the playful fingers, Jason took a few moments to consider it. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I will.”

(Dick still argued viciously with Bruce in nine out of ten conversations. But every so often he’d come by to pick up Jason, and they’d go flying over the forested property, or drive into the city to get ice cream, or a dozen other things Dick very firmly insisted on referring to as Civilian Brotherly Bonding Activities. And a couple years later, when Jason started having his own problems with Bruce, and found his birth certificate in an old box with a different woman’s name listed as his mother-

Well.

He knew just who to go to with it.)

[mirrerover]

High on the Fumes

“Straying a bit far from the nest, Dickiebird,” Jason says. He’s got one hand shoving his mask back up into his hood, revealing just his mouth and the sharp line of his jaw, while the other digs in the pocket of his leather jacket, fishing for cigarettes. A beaten-up carton gets waved in Dick’s general direction, offering a cigarette Dick never accepts. Not like this. Not in the Nightwing suit, at least.

They’re currently overlooking Crime Alley, seated on the edge of the roof, legs dangling off the side. Jason hadn’t seemed surprised when Dick had dropped down next to him on the ledge. But Red Hood wouldn’t be Red Hood if Jason didn’t know the coming and goings of the various vigilantes creeping on Gotham's rooftops at night.

“Ran out of bad guys my side of the pond,” Dick says in the easy way he says lots of things. The patented Grayson charm. “What can I say—I’m just that good.”

That actually pulls a laugh out of Jason. A genuine one. One that has his mouth stretched apart in a smile that makes Dick think beautiful.

“No criminals in Blüdhaven. I knew moonlighting as a police officer would be bad for you. Six months on the job and they’ve already got you on their payroll.”

“Thought you’d be proud of me for lasting as long as I did.”

“Sure thing, Princess.” There’s a fancy Zippo in his hand now, one Dick has never seen before, lighting the first cigarette of plenty to come. Dick wonders if Jason lifted it off some crook he left for dead. “You probably broke some departmental records. Most Blüdhaven cops are on the take before they’ve even stepped off Academy grounds.”

Dick chuckles the way you chuckle when watching your own house burn down to ashes, all your mortal possessions still inside. Blüdhaven is a corrupt cesspool with no fast and easy fix. Maybe not even a slow and difficult one—and she’s all Dick's. He stuffs the thought somewhere deep and hidden and eagerly shifts his eyes to Jason so he can forget. Just for a while.

It’s hard to read Jason’s face, hidden in the shadows of his hood, but the body language is clear; no apparent stiffness or major sore spots. Jason looks relaxed, if not a little tired, fingers nimble when they lift the cigarette to his lips. So the bloodstains aren’t his own.

“Slow night?”

Jason shrugs. “Petty criminals, mostly.” His lips tighten into a harsh line. “Some creep who thought he could set up shop and play pimp. Fuck that. My girls work for themselves.”

His girls. And that, Dick thinks, is the difference between Bruce and Jason. Bruce has his villains, his meta humans, and when that well runs dry there’s the League. A galaxy full of nemeses for him to fight.  Big players and even bigger stakes. Abstract concepts of freedom and peace, and the liberty of dealing in absolutes. Jason has his people. The concrete reality of kids not being cornered by predators and sex workers keeping money in their own pockets. And his people love him. Prefer the Red Hood taking an iron pipe to the face of their abusive ex-husband, their kid’s drug dealer, or the rapist next-door, to the untouchable Bat Symbol high up in the sky.

Maybe Dick’s been staring too hard or maybe Jason can tell he’s thinking of Bruce because the next time he speaks, he’s extra crass: “I need a cock so far up my ass I’ll be seeing stars, a good meal, and a shower with better water pressure than the usual geriatric-taking-their-midnight-piss nonsense that’s rife this side of the city.” He sucks long and hard on the cigarette, posture thoughtful, before releasing the smoke in a slow exhale. “Not necessarily in that order.”

Dick snorts. Maybe there’s more than just the one big difference. “That really something you wanna yell off the rooftops? Thought you were some big bad crime lord.”

“The fuck's that s'posed to mean, Big Bird?” Some might assume that toting around eight severed heads in a duffle bag once would make it hard to take the moral high ground on anything. Dick knows for a fact that Jason doesn’t really give a shit about either morals or the high ground but it doesn’t stop him from taking both and making them his bitch. “Think I’m weak for taking it up the ass? How ‘bout you dial back on the homophobia, you bigoted prick.”

It might be more impressive if Dick was a little less familiar with Jason and his rage. Jason doesn’t settle his actual grievances with his words. This is foreplay.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Little Wing. Got the best thighs this side of the equator. Ain’t nobody calling you weak, babe.”

“Don’t you forget it, asshole.”

Dick hums, lowering himself onto his back, arms stretched high above his head. There’s a weird serenity to being verbally abused by Jason as the Eastern sky is starting to brighten. The sound from the street feels distant and Jason feels so close, their thighs mere inches apart. When Dick lets his head rest on his arm, Jason’s broad shoulders fill up half his vision and he knows if he buries his nose between his shoulder blades it’ll smell of leather and smoke and sweat.

Jason twists his torso towards him. “Were you even listening, Fingerstripes? Just told you I want a cock up my ass before the night is through. Need me to grab a pen and a piece of paper and spell it out for you?” Jason gives a depreciating grunt. “And Daddy dares to say that you’re the smart one.”

“Jesus, Hood,” Dick teases. “Can’t tell if you’re trying to go for seductive or insulting.”

“Shows how shit your instincts are. I’m doing both. You turned on yet?”

Dick shrugs good-naturedly, arches his back and gives Jason the Grayson smile, blinding, crooked, winning. “Little bit.”

There’s another laugh, another smile. Another beautiful in Dick’s head. Then Jason’s lying down beside him, shoulders brushing, and voice bleeding a warm: “thought you would be, you big slut.”

When Jason finishes his cigarette he kills what’s left of it on the concrete. Wordlessly lights another. The new Zippo burns big and bright.

Dick lowers one arm, carefully drags his fingers across the busted knuckles of the hand holding the lighter. Sometimes, those hands will leave red streaks on Dick’s skin and Dick won’t know if the person it came from is still a person at all. And he thinks Jason painting him with blood should probably bother him more than it does. But it’s hard sometimes, between the night job and the day job and the things he sees during both. Between Bruce, who puts principles before people, and Jason, who puts people before Bruce, is Dick, who doesn’t want to choose between either, who wants to have both—but let’s Jason mark him up with the blood from Gotham’s criminals, anyway. So, maybe he’s made his choice.

"Make me a coffee tomorrow morning," Dick says, Jason's hand warm beneath his own. "With those fancy beans. From that specialty shop where they roast and grind the beans on the spot and you watch them like a hawk 'cause you're both anal and a snob."

"Just the coffee?"

"Just the coffee."

"You're one cheap fucking lay, Boy Blunder."

“Only for you,” Dick says. "The Bat family discount.” Dick wonders if there’s a little something special in those cigarettes when that doesn’t get him punted off the roof immediately. The vicious elbow stab to the gut seems rather mellow.

“Asshole,” Jason murmurs under his breath. The vitriol dripping off that single word makes Dick honest-to-God giggle, chest feeling light like flying.    

He thinks they’ll stay here a little longer. Maybe one or two more cigarettes—all Jason. Dick will smoke after. After the sex, and the shower and the sleeping and the coffee. Long after the morning is gone. When Dick has been stripped of his suit for hours and Jason the same for his mask and guns. Then Dick will sit naked in the afternoon sun on Jason’s windowsill, grab that Zippo and smoke.

One cigarette. Just then.

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

@wethatake I wrote a thing. Can you believe it? I sure can’t

[blitzturtles]

Title: Night Off

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: DC Comics

Pairing(s): JayDick

Summary: “If you’re not here to kill me, then get out!” Dick calls without moving. He should probably double check as to who his intruder is, but the idea of moving is somehow more unappealing than the idea of one of his enemies actually managing to break into his apartment. He’ll take the risk of potential kidnapping if it means that they’ll do most of the bodily lifting for him.

Notes: I was having a chronic pain flare, asked my wife who I should inflict it on, and her answer was, “Jotaro and/or Dick Grayson”. So here’s the Dick Grayson version. Btw, I’m doing a writing / fic giveaway! Check out this post to see how to enter. Goes until 8.25.21!

-

It’s extremely rare for Dick to pull out of a planned patrol, but there are nights when he can’t handle the thought, much less actually suit up and venture out into Gotham. Tonight is one of those nights. Old injuries are rearing their ugly head, making themselves too known to be ignored, and he knows that going out will be a mistake. He’s more likely to cause trouble than he is to prevent it, and he’s not about to cut into someone else’s patrol just to have someone come to his rescue. That’s time that could be better spent, and he hates the idea of anyone knowing the degree of pain he’s dealing with. To know that it cripples him to the point where walking is a slow, agonizing process. It feels like a weakness that he’s not prepared to share.

Bruce has chronic pain. That’s something Dick’s known for years. Possibly since he was a child, but the man never seems to be stopped or even slowed down by it. He’s never missed a patrol. Never needed someone to fish him out of a bad situation brought on by his knee completely giving out on him (not that Dick admitted to that being the problem; he’d lied and claimed it had been freshly injured.) It’s frustrating to watch, and it sets a precedent that Dick can’t keep up with. It makes him feel pathetic on nights like these, and it’s all he can do to try to distract himself with crappy television. Up until the moment when something crashes into his apartment through his-- previously locked-- window.

“If you’re not here to kill me, then get out!” Dick calls without moving. He should probably double check as to who his intruder is, but the idea of moving is somehow more unappealing than the idea of one of his enemies actually managing to break into his apartment. He’ll take the risk of potential kidnapping if it means that they’ll do most of the bodily lifting for him.

Sure enough, Jason shows up in the doorway of his living room a moment later with his helmet at his side, but his cowl still fixed in place. “You’re not dressed,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and it makes Dick’s eyebrows climb up toward his hairline.

“Are you my babysitter now?”

“No,” Jason snarls, “I’m not fucking Bruce.”

“Alright then,” Dick shrugs and tries to leave it at that. The keyword being ‘try’, because Jason never could leave well enough alone.

“Why aren’t you out?”

“Changed my mind. Am I not allowed to do that?” Shit. He sounds unnecessarily snappish. More so aloud than he does in his own head, which he knows is the pain getting the better of him, but that doesn’t mean he wants it to reflect in his tone. He heaves a sigh, “Sorry, just wasn’t up for it tonight, you know? Think I twisted my ankle a little last night, and I thought I would take a night. See if the swelling goes down.”

Jason frowns as he mulls over those words, but he doesn’t outright reject them. “Okay,” he starts, and Dick almost sighs in relief, if only internally, “So that was bullshit.”

Fuck.

“Jason-”

“We can do this all night, so you can keep lying to me, or you can just tell me what’s going on,” Jason’s gaze shifts from Dick to the rest of his apartment, undoubtedly looking for some kind of clue. Or possibly some sort of trouble. Neither of which he finds, because Dick’s too stubborn to ice his joints, and the compression wraps he has on are hidden by his clothes.

“I’m not kidding about my ankle,” Dick says after a moment of contemplating his word choice.

“You’re just lying about the cause,” Jason concludes after a moment. His head is cocked to the side, but it’s apparent that he’s fixated on the offending joint, “And it’s not the only thing bothering you.”

The problem with Jason is that he’s far more observant than most people give him credit for. And intelligent, for that matter. It’s easy to forget that Jason thinks Shakespeare is a fun read, and that he’ll spend hours debating the topic with Alfred, if given the chance (and Alfred is always willing). There’s also the fact that Jason tends to pick and choose when he’s going to press an issue; often because he intends to come back around to it, but only when the situation turns in his favor. But the favor here has always been Jason’s. Dick’s stuck on the couch of his apartment, unwilling to move unless absolutely necessary, because his knee will feel like it’s being torn in half if he does, and that’s to say nothing about either ankle.

“I don’t really want to talk about this, Jason,” Dick uses the name for emphasis this time. With a short, clipped tone that he hopes conveys just how badly he would like Jason to leave, but Jason’s also nothing if not obstinate.

“Have you tried ice yet? Or heat?”

The words startle Dick, and he looks to Jason with far too many emotions readable on his face. Jason merely raises an eyebrow in return, and Dick sighs, “No. I don’t think I can get up.”

“Oh,” Jason breathes the word, like he hadn’t expected the answer. And he probably hadn’t. He’d probably expected Dick to continue to deny reality. To lie through his teeth until Jason gave up (which wasn’t going to happen, but that’s beyond the point now.) “Okay. Got any ice in the freezer?”

“Yes- what?”

Jason’s gone in an instant, heading for the kitchen with little concern for Dick’s desire to be left alone. He comes back a minute later with several bags full of freshly scooped ice. He passes them to Dick, one at a time, while Dick slowly places them on various offending limbs.

There’s a dumbstruck expression on Dick’s face, as if he can’t fully process what’s happening, which might have to do with why he doesn’t stop it either. Jason disappears again, this time into the bathroom, and Dick just- let’s him. He’s not sure what else to do now that Jason’s set his mind to- whatever it is he’s set his mind to.

“Here,” Jason says when he comes back with a paper cup of water and a handful of pills. It takes Dick a moment to remember that, a. His first aid kit is in the bathroom just like most peoples’, and the leap for Jason figuring that out isn’t really a leap and b. That Jason’s come here for a (very rough) patch up job more than once, which means he already knows exactly where he can find said kit.

Dick swallows the painkillers with little prompting and passes the cup back to Jason, who must dispose of it in the trash, given that he disappears into the kitchen again. When he comes back, he looks at Dick with that sort of halfcocked, curious expression he gets.

“Anything else I can do?”

“Uh- no. I think you’ve done plenty,” and Dick means that. Jason’s done more for him than Dick would have done for himself, and the ice actually feels kind of nice on the throbbing joints. Combined with the compression, it’s the best relief he’s gotten all day. Maybe the medication will actually do something for a change.

“Good,” Jason says, and Dick assumes that’s the end of that. That he’ll go right back out the window that he came in, but, instead, Jason flops on the couch cushion nearest to him and nods at the long forgotten TV. “What’re we watching?”

“We?”

“Yeah,” Jason says without missing a beat, “I got nothing better to do, and distractions can help with pain. Trust me.”

And two things occur to Dick right then. The first being that Jason isn’t just doing this out of some obligation. He wants to help. Wants to make Dick feel better, and Dick doesn’t know what to do with that information. And the second is that Jason knows, on a very personal level, what it’s like to be in so much pain that his body doesn’t cooperate with him, and of course he does. Jason’s death had been far from pleasant, and he still wears the scars of it. There’s no doubt he feels it in his bones and damaged cartilage. Never mind all the other injuries since then, and there’s a long, long list that Dick’s personally seen the fallout of several times.

“I don’t know,” Dick says once his brain starts processing in the right direction again, “CSI?”

Jason snorts, “What, want to spend all night yelling at the screen?”

“Maybe,” Dick says with a shrug, “You got something better?”

“Hell yeah,” Jason reaches for the remote, and Dick passes it to him without question, “We’re gonna watch some good ole-fashioned zombies.”

And there goes Dick’s eyebrows again, “Really?”

“Sometimes a man just needs something a little autobiographical, quit judging,” and Jason says it with such a severe tone that Dick can’t help but laugh.

Truthfully, it’s the best he’s felt all night, and that doesn’t change once the movie-- however bad it may be-- starts. He catches Jason with a small, half-smile tugging at the corner of one side of his lips, and it helps Dick to relax a bit, to know that he isn’t being judged.

[iloveitwhen]

First Meetings

I really should have posted this a long long time ago but.............. oh well.

@jasonette-july-2k20 

Sibling Jasonette

The first time he met Marinette he was pissed, she looked nothing like him! How dare she claim to be the daughter of his mother. 

“Listen, little girl,” he snarled at the dark haired teenager who stood calmly in front of him, “I don’t care how you got that name but I do not have a sister.” 

“Don’t the eyes match?” she asked emotionless, staring at him in a challenge. Jason was startled and took a better look at hers and felt the blood drain from his face. She was right, despite only meeting his mother for a short time he committed the face in his memory, the girl shared the same shaped rose lips, small nose, and shade of blue eyes that matched not only his mothers but his own. 

“My father was another doctor in Ethiopia, I was five when Shiela died and I was sent to live with my biological father’s sister and her husband in France.” She took a deep breath, “look. You don’t have to believe me but I wanted to let you know, I think people deserve the decency to know these things.” She adjusted the strap of her backpack on her back and turned to leave. “I’m sorry you didn’t want me for a sister.” she says as she walks away. 

Jason stands there for a moment, he doesn’t know if he wants to believe it, but she had proof on her face that held his mother’s features. Could she only be after him for his connection to Bruce? Was she really his sister? 

Sister. 

He had to make sure.

“Wait!” he stepped outside of his apartment and looked down the hallway the way she walked but she was already gone. He quickly shut his door and chased after her, letting his long legs bound over the running children down the hall. He skidded to a halt when he came to the reception desk. 

“Did a teenage girl with black pigtails just walk out of here?” he shouts at Riley, the receptionist who nods vigorously noticing his panic. He runs out and looks around the small area, luckily he was taller than most people and could easily look over the heads of the few people who were around in the early morning. Unluckily she had disappeared just as quickly as she had appeared. 

“Shit!” 

“You know it’s not polite to curse.” Jason whipped around and found the girl was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. 

“You played me.” 

She shrugged, “you wouldn’t listen to me and I wasn’t sure if you’d come down or not to be honest.” then she pushed herself off the wall and gave him a bright smile and laughed a little, completely different from how she was acting before at his door, “I am glad you came though!” 

This girl was throwing him for a loop. 

“How do I know you're telling the truth? And what do you want?” she gave him a quizzical look. 

“We can do a blood test, and I don’t want anything from you!” she said as if it was the most scandalous thing. “I would never do such a thing, I just wanted to meet you.” she gave another, more soft smile, it was quite disarming and Jason got the distinct realization that this girl could be very dangerous. 

---

The first time he met Ladybug he was quite confused. She was standing in front of him in the filthiest part of Gotham in a strange red and black polka dotted superhero spandex suit with thick brown accents. Just who did she think she was running around in that suit. He eyed her warily, she had a similar face shape as his sister except she was taller and had big brown eyes and white hair crafted into twin braided tails that fell down to her waist. 

“Please, Red Hood.” 

"Look. I don't know you, you could be some evil mastermind for all I care, and besides, I'm really not the person you should ask. Even if this all is real I have anger issues and hearing about this guy really fuels my desire to kill the bastard." He shakes his head and shrugs. "I don't know what to tell you, I'm not even the best detective, actually, I might be the worst out of the bunch." He turns to leave but the girl calls him back. 

"Wait. You can help, I sought you out specifically, and you are also quite good at keeping secrets and this definitely needs to be kept a secret. We already know who is behind the mask but we need proof and that's where you come in. We need help, please, just think about it. I'll be here in two days at the same time for your answer. If you decide to help bring a bag with a few changes of clothes and whatever you need." 

"I'll think about it." 

She nodded and gave him a sad smile before turning and yelling, "voyage!" And stepping through a portal. 

Weird. Well at least he’d be able to see his sister, she did live in Paris after all. For a moment he thought that Ladybug could be Marinette but shook his head she would have told him about bleaching her hair, not to say that she wouldn’t be the type to hero around but there was just no way, Jason wasn’t that unlucky. 

---

Red Hood waited at the agreed upon spot with a duffle bag on the ground at his feet when the weird hero chick opened a portal and stepped through. 

“Red Hood!” she says, relief passing through her features and she spots his duffle and looks at him with excitement in her eyes. “Have you decided to help?” she asks with a hopeful smile. 

Red Hood grunts in response before threatening, “look, I don’t kill kids but if this is some sort of joke I might break my rules.” But instead of looking scared she sighed in relief, keeping her smile. 

“Thank you Red.” Jason’s heart broke a little at the utmost gratitude from her voice, like no one ever bothered to help her when she asked for it. Before she could say another word the round thing on her hip beeped and when she opened it she grimaced. 

“We have an akuma attack. Come on, I want you to watch but stay out of sight.” she called “voyage” again like last time and a portal appeared but she looked back at him and added, “please stay out of this fight, we have this handled and you will get in the way.” He nodded and they stepped through.

She had portaled them to the top of a tall building, it was nighttime in Paris when it was dusk at Gotham  and in the distance he saw the Eiffel Tower getting picked up by a giant kid who looked about six years old but was half the size of the Eiffel Tower itself that he just chucked. Behind the mask Jason's brows went high and his jaw dropped. 

“Don’t worry,” the girl reassured him. “Gigantitan isn’t too bad, just a poor kid who gets akumatized regularly. Dismount.” 

“Dismo-?” Jason began but was caught off guard by the flash of teal colored light surrounding the girl. In place of the suit from before she stood in a mostly black suit with red and black polka dots covering her arms and torso, the bottom was black with a thick red stripe around her ankles and black under her forearms and palms. Her hair had changed to black with short pigtails and her eyes blue. 

“What the f-”

“Stay out of sight, I’ll come back for you.” She pulled the round thing off her hip and started swinging it in a circle by a string, was that a yoyo?, and swung off after the giant baby child. Jason was slightly panicked, she just transformed in a flash of light and looked like his sister when they first met. Marinette had outgrown the pigtails and now usually wore her hair down, in braids, or in buns. And her eyes were blue. Jason shook his head of the thought, this Ladybug must have just made the pigtails popular, and plenty of people have blue eyes. He then ran after the hero to get a closer look without getting in the way. 

He saw two more heroes trying to keep the monster contained when they converged to meet up with the Ladybug. He decided to get closer and leaped across the rooftops till he could see and hear the heroes working clearly but was also out of the way. 

It was clear Ladybug was the leader, she barked orders while joining the fight as well. It was a quick win but the weirdest part wasn’t when the giant-baby-thing was enveloped in purple goo and shrunk to reveal a young six year old boy, it was when the girl tossed something in the air and a burst of little flying things came out of nowhere and magically fixed everything, including the destroyed Eiffel Tower. Jason was very confused. Sure he’d seen some crazy things over the years but that didn’t mean it was any less strange. He observed how they surrounded the boy and comforted him, soon the blonde haired man in the all black suit and cat ears gathered the boy in his arms and bounded away, likely taking the boy home. The black spotted hero with her third partner, pointing to the place he was told to stay and they both sprouted wings and flew in that direction. 

“Hey!” he called out, stepping into the light. The two heroes looked over and started in his direction. They landed softly on the roof and their wings disappeared into wisps of white smoke. 

“Red Hood I told you too-”

“I know, I know, I just wanted to get a better look. I think I need a lot more explaining.” 

The leader nodded then gestured to her partner, “this is Hornet, Hornet, this is Red Hood.” 

He looked her over as she did him, her suit was mostly black as well, her torso was black with burnt yellow along the seams in honeycomb shapes and in the same color she had several diagonal lines down her legs. She also had a mask like his though it resembled a bee’s head. 

“Nice mask,” Hornet commented, her voice wasn’t muffled as it should have been and Jason nodded his thanks. 

“Yours is a lot cooler.” He paused for a moment then continued, “I know it’s late here so we can meet up some other time so you kids can get some rest, I can have an explanation later.” Ladybug’s eyebrow quirked up but she nodded. 

“Thanks. Hornet will lead you to the hotel you’ll be staying. Don’t worry, it’ll be safe, no one will find your identity.” 

---

The second time he met Marinette, well, let’s just say the magic that conceals the identities of the Miraculous holders did not work on Jason. 

I did a second part that technically follows this and explains how Mari and Jason are related 

Soulmates Day 2

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 11

The route to Steph’s apartment was a little bit difficult in a truck, but with the little bit of time he had to spare, he found a decent place to park in one of the quiet parking lots provided by the city, surprised to find a spot under an awning for a change. Jason loaded up his reuseable bags; it was a bit of a walk to Steph’s place from here, but with his jacket over the bags and his hood up, he was mostly protected, and this rain was a gentle one, not one of the hurricane-force bastards from the South. Boots splashing through puddles as he walked, Jason made his way through the Narrows, checking on everyone he passed with careful glances.

Everyone’s looking good…that’s a relief. Then again, Steph and I have been working hard to get people the help they need…and having Pops foot the bill goes a long way. It was the agreement that Bruce had eagerly signed with Jason; Red Hood would stop most of his killing, and Batman would fund the repair work needed to get the Narrows and Gotham back up to where they needed to be. Not that Bruce wasn’t already doing that, but having his and Steph’s eyes and ears in the thick of things made the job easier, and he’d already admitted that even his “Lefty” persona wasn’t half as good at sussing out what needed done as Jason’s quiet questioning or Steph’s cheerful chatter.

He did try his best, but throwing money at things down here ain’t the way to fix things…he knows that now, thankfully, and hey, he is listening. And on top of that, I think he enjoys the challenge of fixing things without making it feel gentrified. That had been Jason’s worry; that commercial investors would flood the area and ruin things for the people just trying to survive…but Bruce had had other plans for them. I think his lawyers were gnawing on their desks in boredom; siccing them on the scummy landlords and assholes trying to take over was exactly what they needed. Jason grinned to himself as he waved to the local bakery shop owner, taking a break from her work and sipping a cup of coffee, flour dusting her dark hair and apron.

Instead, Bruce had quietly bought out all the landlords in the area, installed a set of vetted managers to act as landlords with a dedicated maintenance staff…and made the entirety of the Narrows rent-controlled for the next fifty years. Jason had been awestruck when Bruce had revealed his plan, and he still remembered how worried the old man looked, hands clenched together, lips pursed thin.

‘“Jason…do you think it’s a good idea? I plan on leveling out the rents so that they’re reasonable, and every place will get a renovation, with free stays at hotels while the work is done…and if there’s a dedicated staff, I figure that way we can tackle problems before they become disasters. And no one person controls the rent…it all goes into the maintenance budget and to pay the managers, and the managers work as a team.”’

‘“…if you weren’t my dad, I’d kiss you right now.”’ Jason grinned to himself at Bruce’s blush of pleasure and happiness, and hummed a little as he gently kicked a soccer ball back into a yard. I’m sure it’d grate on people’s nerves to still have someone running it all, but…well, Pops does know how to pick his managers, and so far, there’s been nothing but good reviews. Nearly every tenant he’d talked to had been ecstatic. Between rent control, utilities dropping because things were getting fixed, and quality of life improving, the Narrows had become a place of hope, rather than despair…and he chuckled as he almost walked right past Steph’s building, long legs already warmed up for a jaunt around the neighborhood.

Later, Red; your girl’s gonna be wanting those waffles. He walked up the stoop and keyed in her visitor code; usually, he went in through the roof, but well, that was…kind of a dick move during the daylight, and this kept him from being caught. With care, he shook himself free of water before stepping inside, wiped his boots on the mat, and started up the stairs, wondering if he should call in a favor to get the elevator fixed. It wasn’t like stairs were hard, but he knew this building had a lot of elders…I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s got a job for it yet. Probably, it’s one of Bruce’s buildings now, and it can be hard to find a qualified tech with the time to spare.

As he crested the third floor, he mused a little more. Though, given the enrollment numbers at GothTech, I have a feeling that we’ll have plenty of engineers and handyfolks within the next year. Giving kids and adults a free certification in whatever they want through vocational school has been a godsend for the whole city; we need qualified people doing the work, and with Wayne Industries paying them the right amounts, we’re getting the kind of numbers that Gotham U wishes they had. Sure, there’s grants and stuff, but…well, GothTech doesn’t have complicated history with the Maroni and Falcone clans.

Hell, even Steph had transferred into the nursing program at GT, and Jason was seriously considering the automotive mechanics classes, if for nothing else to fix the goddamn sputter in his motorcycle. Only so many Youtube videos I can watch…He grumbled to himself as he made it up to the eight floor, hardly even panting despite his legs burning a little, and he knocked on Steph’s door with a sigh of relief, shelving his thoughts for a later day. Digging into his bag as he heard her approach, he held up the Eevee plate with a winsome grin on his face, and when Steph opened the door, her squeal of delight was the best sound he’d heard all day.

“Eevee!”

“Saw it and thought of you, baby. Shall we waffle?” Her laughter was all Jason needed, and he scooped her up into a kiss as she pulled him inside…but the smirk on her face as she pulled away just made him grin even bigger.

“Better get to work, Hood, I’m expecting only the best golden waffles.”

“And only the best golden waffles for my lady. With sprinkles.”

“…I love you.”

“Love you too, Stephie.” She dragged him to the tiny kitchen, where apparently some cleaning had gone on this morning; dishes were freshly washed in the drainer and the counter had been cleared off of all of Steph’s normal debris, which made Jason smile fondly as he set down his finds on her tiny table. Together, they unboxed the waffle maker and wiped down the plates, and Steph pulled out a mixing bowl and spatula while Jason laid out the ingredients and got the maker warming, spraying it lightly with a bit of oil. With her direction, he started mixing up the batter while Steph surveyed the haul in front of her.

“Hmmm…”

“What sounds good first, sweetheart?”

“Well, I had berries last night…I think chocolate chips this morning!” He chuckled and set the bowl down for her to dump two heaping cupfuls of chips into the batter, stirring it expertly before stealing the half-cup to start ladling in batter, remembering what he’d looked up last night before he’d crashed. “Ohhhh those look so good.”

“Hell yeah they do, and I’m not normally a chocolate fan to that extent.” She kissed him and he melted into her kisses, the last vestiges of his nightmare from this morning finally breaking away. Something must’ve shown on his face, because she cupped his cheek, eyes worried, and he just pressed a kiss to her palm, nuzzling in close.

“You okay, Jay?”

“Mmn…just a really bad nightmare this morning.” Jason didn’t have to say what from; she knew. She knew better than anyone…it was what had made them really bond when they’d first met, when he was so angry still from…well, everything, and hadn’t been inclined to care about anyone in the Batfamily. Steph, however, had dug in under his skin, demanded that he at least talk things out…and he pulled her into a hug, rocking her close. “Thought of you, though, and that helped.” Her smile was brilliant against his skin, and he pulled back just enough to kiss her…when the stink of burned batter filled the kitchen and they both sprang apart with a yelp, flipping over the waffle maker and digging out the now charred waffle.

“Oh shit, shit shit…”

“It’s okay, babe, I shoulda paid more attention…” Steph cracked open her window, and Jason was glad for the cleansing scent of the rain outside while he tossed the lost waffle into the trash, fanning the smell out with a towel. They surveyed the wafflemaker, making sure it wasn’t toast, and with a sigh of relief, he cleaned off the crusted bits and laughed a little. “…Well, that was exciting.” Steph gave a chuckle, and they kissed again, this time with all the time in the world.

“Shall we try again?”

“Fuck yeah, we’re not quitters.”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Just the Same

Summary:

“You’re sick.”

“You’re ugly.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t feeling well?”

“I’m fine.” Jason closes his eyes. “Just a little tired.”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why you have a fever?”

Read it here on AO3!

Bruce has a very simple plan for tonight, alright? He’s going to grab a quick post-patrol snack from the kitchen, then he’s going to take a shower, and then he will go promptly to bed. He’s tired. It’s been a long day. He just wants to sleep. (You absolute fool, the goblin in his brain screeches at him, because the goddamn Batman cannot get a goddamn break or else the world will literally split in two.) Fatefully, Bruce passes the den’s open doorway while half of his mind is preoccupied with sending Dick a goodnight text, and he happens to glance into the room. That’s when he stops in his tracks. Even more fatefully, Alfred is coming down the hall in Bruce’s direction, carrying a tray with a single cup of tea on it. “Alfred?” “Yes, Master Bruce?” “Were you aware that Jason was home?” Alfred looks over at where Jason is asleep on the den sofa, still in his leather jacket and boots. He doesn’t look remotely surprised by the sight. Then again, is Alfred ever surprised? “Master Jason got in while you were on patrol. I offered to make him dinner, but he said he wasn’t hungry.” Then there’s that classic Alfred Pennyworth eyebrow crease. “When he wakes up, do inform him that one does not forgo the need for nutrition when one has been dipped in a Lazarus Pit.” “I’ll be sure to do that.” “Now, if you will excuse me.” Alfred walks off with his perfectly level tray, on a perilous journey to Damian’s room. Bruce envies him. At least Alfred gets to go to sleep after Damian gets his nighttime tea. Bruce enters the den carefully, without a sound. God knows Jason hardly sleeps through the night without interruption as it is. Now, at least, he looks peaceful enough. So much time has passed since his last haircut that his hair curls against his temple, plastered with sweat. He must have come here straight from Red Hood business. At least he didn’t get blood on the couch this time. Quietly, Bruce pulls the knitted throw blanket from where it’s draped over the back of the sofa and lays it over Jason, tucking it in close when he catches a shiver rattling Jason’s teeth. Now that he’s paying attention, he can see that Jason’s cheeks are flushed as well. His mouth is locked in a grimace, even in sleep. Bruce presses the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead and clicks his tongue. Definitely a fever. Jason’s eyebrows wrinkle at the touch. His eyes crack open and take a moment to land on Bruce, sitting on the edge of the couch by Jason’s torso. It says a lot that he doesn’t go into battle mode as soon as he registers an unfamiliar presence in the room. “Mmph. Go away.” “You’re sick.” “You’re ugly.” “Why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t feeling well?” “I’m fine.” Jason closes his eyes. “Just a little tired.” “Uh-huh. And that’s why you have a fever?” “Why don’t you mind your fucking—” Jason tumbles into a coughing fit, wet and hacking. “I’ll be right back,” Bruce tells him with a parting pat on the knee. His knees creak as he stands, heading for the bathroom down the hall. He digs through the medicine cabinet until he finds the thermometer, one of many that Alfred keeps in every bathroom in the house. He grabs a bottle of Tylenol as well. Bruce goes back to the couch and reclaims his spot next to Jason, who has stopped coughing by now, but his breathing is heavy. Bruce touches the thermometer to Jason’s temple, ignoring his weak swats. It reads out a hundred and one degrees. “When did you start feeling sick?” Jason grunts and rolls onto his side, curling in on himself. “Dunno. Yesterday, I guess.” Bruce frowns. Of course Jason would ignore any achy feelings for as long as possible. None of Bruce’s kids have a single self-preserving bone in their bodies. “Tell me your symptoms.” “Being a fucking snack.” “Jason.” Jason coughs. “Leave me alone, old man.” “Does your throat hurt?” “Yeah, so quit trying to make me talk.” “Any nausea?” Jason buries his face into a throw pillow. “You’re fuckin’ exhausting, you know that?” He sighs. “Not since last night. I’m freezing, lethargic, and my head is killing me. Happy?” Bruce hums. “It’s probably the flu.” “Yeah, no shit.” Jason closes his eyes. “Now will you leave me alone? You’re making my headache worse.” Bruce twists open the Tylenol cap and shakes out a couple of tablets into his palm. “Here.” He holds them out to Jason. Jason opens one eye, looks at the pills, and closes it again. “No.” “Jason—” “No. Don’t like pills.” Bruce can’t say he didn’t expect as much. Still, it does Jason no favors to continuously refuse any sort of medication, choosing to tough out the pain for as long as he can. It all ties back to his mother’s drug addiction, a disease which Jason watched slowly kill her over years and years. It makes sense that he’d grow up with an unwavering aversion to drugs. When Jason was a small tot, Bruce and Alfred spent what probably accumulated to hours of cajoling, trying to talk Jason into taking even the lightest painkillers. Lidocaine and numbing solutions were fine, but anything resembling a narcotic was out—and still is, apparently. It makes Bruce wonder how Jason reacted to the Lazarus Pit and its euphoria-inducing waters—part of the whole “magical healing” process. Maybe he was too out of his mind at the time to form a solid thought, much less remember his childhood trauma. This is one fight Bruce chooses not to get into, so he recaps the Tylenol and sets it aside. Miraculously, Jason is already asleep again. That’s fine with Bruce; it’s better his son sleeps this flu off than wastes his energy arguing. Trying not to jostle him too much, Bruce takes off Jason’s boots and leaves them on the carpet. He grabs the TV remote and settles in on the couch with Jason’s feet in his lap, pulling up a nature documentary on hyenas that he and Damian haven’t had the chance to finish yet. Looks like he’ll be catching up on his sleep tomorrow night. Right now, Jason needs him (despite how fervently he’ll protest as much). Honestly, this whole situation brings Bruce back to the old days. After moving into the manor, it took over six months for Jason to completely recover from the years of malnutrition he suffered on the streets. His weight was far too low for a boy his age, even more scrawny than Tim. Alfred provided Jason with plenty of vitamin supplements and extra servings at dinner to bulk him up, but his immune system was shoddy at best no matter how much weight he gained. During his Robin era it was illness after illness, from the common cold to a whammying case of pneumonia. This is the first time Jason has been sick in Bruce’s presence since his death, though. Bruce is learning about the eating habits of hyenas when Tim comes in from the kitchen with a cup of peppermint tea, despite having supposedly gone to bed three hours ago. He stands there in the doorway for a moment, looks owlishly at Jason, then at Bruce, then back to Jason. He grins. “No,” Bruce says. “You don’t even know what I was going to do!” “I know you, and the answer is no.” “Jeez, Bruce. I’m not gonna kill him.” Tim attempts to cross his arms, forgetting that he’s holding hot tea, and hisses when it scalds his arm. “The hand-in-warm-water trick’s never hurt anyone,” he mutters. “Go back upstairs. You’ll get sick.” Tim wrinkles his nose. “This is prejudice against people without spleens, you know. I could sue your ass.” “Sue me from upstairs where I can comfortably know that you won’t die from the flu.” Tim rolls his eyes, but he goes. Bruce hears him stomp up the stairs, getting quieter and quieter until the footsteps are gone entirely. Bruce shakes his head. How did he ever think that having four boys would be a good idea? He questions his younger self’s judgement every day. For the next three hours, Jason sleeps in fits and starts. He never stays awake longer than five minutes at a time, drinking water when Bruce prods him to and grudgingly letting Bruce check his temperature for any spikes. Bruce learns quite a bit about hyenas in the meantime, until the documentary ends and a new one about sea otters begins. In between the hazy bouts of wakefulness, Jason tosses restlessly in the throes of nightmare after nightmare. Beads of sweat roll down his forehead. In the back of his mind Bruce wonders, is this just the fever talking or are nightmares a nightly villain for Jason? The latter would come as no shock, but that doesn’t mean he likes the idea. Bruce runs his fingers through Jason’s sweaty curls, a reflection of years ago when he would do the same thing any time Jason had a nightmare during his youth. Jason has been cheated out of peaceful nights from the beginning. Of course, back then there wasn’t a white streak splitting the darkness of his onyx hair—a reminder of the pit water swimming in Jason’s blood. Bruce moves a lock of hair off Jason’s forehead, gentle as a moth. Jason’s eyes fly open and he jerks away from the touch, a gasp ripping up his throat. Bruce doesn’t move. He gives Jason a moment to regain his bearings, stilling the hand in Jason’s hair. Green irises lock on Bruce, frenzied. “Where?” he croaks. “The manor.” Jason takes a deep breath in, clenching his jaw. “Okay.” He lets it out. “Okay.” Bruce grabs the water bottle he’s kept on the coffee table. “Here,” he says, moving his hand down to Jason’s back and prodding a shoulder blade. “Sit up.” “Fuck you.” It comes out half groan, the illness-wrought exhaustion catching back up with Jason. “You need to hydrate.” “Double fuck you.” Bruce shrugs. “Drink half of this or I’ll call Alfred and have him convince you. Your choice.” Jason rolls his eyes and snatches the bottle. Bruce will take that as a victory. Jason sits up with enormous effort, groaning at the aches in his body until he’s upright next to Bruce. He drinks the water, wincing when it hits his sore throat. “What were you dreaming about?” Bruce ventures to ask. Jason lowers the bottle to narrow his eyes at Bruce like he’s the biggest idiot in this room. “Shut up.” The annoying part is that Bruce genuinely has no idea what Jason’s nightmare could have been about. His childhood? His death? His resurrection? Any of the traumatic things that could have happened afterward, ones that Bruce wasn’t there for? There is such a disconnect between the two of them now. He should count it a blessing that they have moments like this, though Bruce would greatly prefer spending time with Jason while he isn’t sick and miserable. But Bruce will take it, nonetheless. Jason drains a sufficient amount of water, only to lurch forward in another coughing fit as soon as he gets in a breath. “Christ,” he rasps, eyes watering. “Just fucking shoot me already, will ya?” Bruce rubs his back. “I could tranq you, if you really think it would help. But I can’t guarantee that one of your brothers won’t take advantage of that and draw mustaches on your face while I’m not looking.” “Har, har. You’re a fucking comedian now.” Jason’s voice is coarse as gravel, scraping up his vocal cords. “Want some tea? It’ll help soothe your throat.” “Later. Just wanna...sleep for now.” In spite of everything he stands for, Jason tips his head to rest it on Bruce’s shoulder. Whether it was intentional or he’s just so disoriented from the fever that he has no idea he’s even doing it, Bruce won’t take the gesture for granted. Jason is shivering, so Bruce pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders where it slackened during his sleep. Then, in a riskier maneuver, he puts his arm around Jason and pulls him in close like he did so many times when Jason was a lot shorter and a lot less jagged around the edges. Bcuce still loves him just the same. Jason leans into Bruce’s warmth instinctively, but he warns, “Tell anyone about this and I’ll shatter your clavicle.” “Mm-hm.” “I mean it. You’ll need a goddamn orthopedic surgeon to fix you up if you breathe a word of this to anyone.” “I believe you.” It must be a good enough answer because Jason closes his eyes, relaxing in Bruce’s hold. “The only reason I’m gonna say this is ‘cause my brain is melting,” Jason says, “but...thanks. For being here.” He yawns. “Being sick alone fuckin’ sucks.” “I hear you.” “And keep Tim away from me, ‘kay? I don’t trust the little snot not to pull something.” Bruce snorts and unpauses the otter movie. “Go to sleep, Jay.”

[ragingbookdragon]

Forging Paths PT. 3

Batsis Story!

A/N: Like the more I reread the worse I feel. I THOUGHT THIS WAS OUTSTANDING. WHY??? -Thorne <3

Both parties stared at one another in a silent stalemate. Jason sat on a stool at the bar smirking, Dick stood next to Alfred in a mixed state of disbelief and recognition, and Tim and Damian sat at the table with raised eyebrows and wide-open mouths. (Y/N) took one look at Tim and Damian and quipped, "Oi Nerd-bird and Short-stack, you're gonna catch flies with your mouths open like that." Jason and Dick started to laugh as Tim and Damian shut their mouths; Tim still looked shocked, but Damian's face set into a glare and the disdain was evident when he spoke.

"Why are you here?" (Y/N) narrowed her eyes and returned his glare.

"I'm here because Jason needed me. Anything beyond that is none of your business kid." (Y/N) walked over to where the refrigerator was and began rifling through it. Jason called out from behind her.

"Beers on the second shelf from the bottom." (Y/N) raised a hand in confirmation, pulled a bottle from the shelf, and cracked it open. Walking back over to where Jason sat, she hopped on the stool next to him and reclined her upper body onto the bar, head lolling backwards. Inhaling quickly, she raised her head back up and took a swig of her beer. Dick moved to stand in front of the bar and spoke.

"Long day?" She hummed in agreement, a small smile adorned on her face.

"Long day Dickie and an even longer night ahead of us." Dick smiled at the nickname and leaned over to ruffle his younger sister's hair. Batting his hand away she looked at him and smiled. Damian quipped up from behind them.

"We don't need the help of someone who abandons Gotham City and father." (Y/N)'s face dropped into a cold stare as she set her beer down and sat up. Hunching over she leaned her elbows on her knees, and she heard Jason mutter an "oh no", from beside her.

"Watch your mouth kid. You don't want to start a fight with me. I'm not like these guys. I'll finish it." Damian rose to his feet and began walking around the table.

"I'd like to see you try." (Y/N) stood up and began moving towards Damian when Jason and Dick intervened; Jason placing an arm across her chest as Dick stepped in front of Damian. Dick spoke quickly hoping to avoid a fight.

"Hey, hey, there's no reason to fight right now, and frankly, we don't need infighting when we've got such a serious problem on our hands." (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at Dick and sat back down, responding,

"I don't have a problem, so long as the little twerp over there minds his own business and leaves me alone." Damian no doubt would've lunged at her had Dick not had a hold of him.

"I am not a twerp, you troglodyte." (Y/N) barked a laugh at the insult.

"That was a good one two-bit. Got anymore?" Damian's nose turned upwards in disgust.

"Plenty." (Y/N)'s eyes narrowed, but not with anger, perhaps more of admiration and humor; she hadn't heard such an attitude since Jason was Robin. She turned back to her beer and resumed drinking; Damian moved to lean against the wall. Dick returned to the bar and spoke to her.

"We're really glad you're here (Y/N). I don't know if we could handle this on our own." (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond but Tim beat her to it.

"Mathematically speaking, we have a high percentage at successfully beating down the gangs and pushing back the League, but we'd take some seriously heavy hits and a lot more civilian casualties. With (Y/N) involved, we can cut casualties by about 57%, and raise our chance at success from 79% to a solid 90%." (Y/N) stared at Tim with wide eyed astonishment, before questioning him.

"Did you just do that off the top of your head?" Tim nodded his head to her. "Damn kid, that's impressive." Tim lowered his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide the blush creeping up at the compliment.

"It was nothing really, just simple math. It's what I was trained to do." (Y/N) pulled a face and waved off the modesty.

"Bah, I'm not him Nerd-bird. When I know something is impressive and worthy of admiration, I speak on it. Encourages them to do better. You being able to do math lighting fast like that is pretty damn cool and I admire the ability." Tim had only been complimented like this a few times in his entire 18 years of existence, and hearing one so real made his heart feel light. Damian rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Don't let it go to your head Drake. Any of us could do that." Tim's head whipped up and he glared at Damian.

"Oh yeah Demon-spawn? I think you're just jealous she complimented me and not ‘Mr. Blood Son’." Damian began to make his way over to Tim as he began rising from his seat. Next thing they knew, they were both whacked in the side of the head with silver spoons. Holding their heads and looking down at the spoons on the floor they turned back towards (Y/N).

"Did you just throw spoons at our heads?" Tim asked, rubbing the side of his head where the spoon had hit him. (Y/N) reclined her head back onto the bar, shutting her eyes and confirmed.

"Yes. Yes I did. And if the two of you don't separate and put a lid on it, I'm gonna beat the ever living-shit out of you both." Tim didn't need to be told twice, especially by (Y/N) and retired back to the table; Damian marched in front of her and stood indignantly.

"You wouldn't be able to touch me." This kid just doesn't know when to quit does he? She thought. She moved like lightening, gripping the back of Damian's neck and slamming him down to the floor, before securing her legs over his and twisting his hands behind his back. The atmosphere in the kitchen turned hostile and everyone went deathly still. It was so quiet you could've heard a pin drop. (Y/N) leaned in until her lips almost touched Damian's ear before she spoke. Her voice, almost silent, but laced with venom.

"Listen to me very carefully Damian Wayne, because I am only going to say this once. I am not somebody to fuck with. You think you're special because Bruce Wayne is your daddy, Talia al Ghul is your mommy, and Ra's al Ghul is your grand-daddy? I have news for you kid. Bruce Wayne is my father too. You wanna know how special that makes me? Absolutely fucking zilch. You aren't the only person who has assassination training and multiple fighting techniques. The difference between me and you is the fact that I'm not bound by the same shit-code you are. I kill people, and I have no problems doing it, blood or no. So you remember this the next time you plan on confronting me again. Understood?" Damian nodded his head in acceptance. (Y/N) twisted his arm tighter. "I said, understood?" Damian grit his teeth and choked out.

"I understand." (Y/N) let go and sat back down, watching as Damian pulled himself off the floor and rubbed his arms. The other four men in the kitchen were as still as possible, Alfred being the only person brave enough to break the silence.

"Ms. (Y/N), Master Damian, now that the two of you are over your little tiff, would you like dinner?" Damian shook his head and sat at the table; (Y/N) turned around at the bar and replied.

"Some dinner sounds great Alfie. What do we have?" Alfred smiled as he placed a plate in front of her.

"When I heard that if you were coming, it would be tonight, I took it upon myself to make chicken Alfredo. I remember it being your favorite as a child." (Y/N) let her exterior crack and allowed a sweet smile to grace her lips.

"It still is Alfie. It still is." Alfred returned to the sink and began washing dishes as (Y/N) started to eat. Jason and Dick being the kids they are started sticking their forks into her food. It almost looked like a game of 'Footsies', but instead of feet, they were using forks. And instead of rubbing forks, they were stabbing each other, laughing hysterically when one cried out in exaggerated pain. This continued on for a few minutes until the door leading into the kitchen swung open and someone stepped inside. Immediately it became quiet again and everyone turned to face the doorway. (Y/N) steeled her emotions and set her face into a blank. Leaning back from the bar, she looked at him; he stared back at her. He's not even surprised. I guess he knew what Jason meant when he asked to try something. He knew I was coming. He was silent and then he spoke.

"(Y/N)."

"Bruce."