#as this is apparently my current focus on thoughts about Jason

[mintacle]

I'm really serious about my posts how Jason is a girl because he represents so much of the girl experience and yes this is absolutely in the lane of DC accidentally writing something really good.

If you're a girl and you love Jason then you deserve to get a firm hug, a gun and a free purge day applicable to yourself only. You're only out for one person anyway and they deserve it, you go girl.

If you're a guy and you love Jason then you're on the right side of history and you get a long hug and forehead kiss and you deserve affirmation and love from your parental figure of choice.

If you're nb and love Jason then you deserve to punch the next person in the face who gets your pronouns repeatedly wrong despite corrections and you deserve a baseball bat to beat someone up with. Similar to the gun thing for girls just with a bit more fire to the anger and a bit less cold-hearted hate.

If you're trans and love Jason then whichever of the former applies + you get to sock someone in the jaw too for using your wrong pronouns or deadname + you deserve to meet someone who didn't know you before and sees only this you now and will never compare you to or grieve the person you used to be.

[weneepie]

I need something with Jason’s thighs cause I need to munch and gnaw at that man’s muscular thighs like my life depends on it (it doesn’t even need to be smut BUT u decide🫢)

appetizing w/ red hood rules | m.list

note. OMG thank u sm for your request bc i couldn't wait to go FERAL with Jason (the man that he is) but i'm not good with smut so i didn't cross that line, hope it's okay! hope you'll enjoy it <3

You were in love with Jason Todd, no matter who he was and which of his hundred faces he was wearing. Robin, Jason, Red Hood ; you couldn’t care less. Actually, what you really cared about was how he kept on going to the gym when his job as a vigilante was already making him go massive. Your boyfriend was huge, and you weren’t the one to complain. 

Jason was currently sitting on the couch in your apartment, his eyes focused on the TV screen in front of them. While you were laying down there, your hand resting on the boy’s lap. You had a hard time trying to really focus on what was happening in front of your eyes because you felt different. Well, you weren’t the one who felt different actually. The problem was coming from his thighs. You didn’t realize the size they took recently, and you swore you could see the muscles through his stupid dark pants. You kept on glancing at his legs, which wasn’t helping you focus at all. 

Slowly, you moved from your position to have a better view, but also a better access, to his thighs. Jason noticed that you moved and, when he was about to say something, he got cut by a slight pain in his leg. “Did you just bite me?!” He asked in disbelief before you looked up at him, moving your mouth away from his poor thigh. An awkward smile appeared on his lips and Jason couldn’t help but to sigh. 

“I’ll go take a shower. Ease your mind while I’m gone,” he told you before standing up, leaving you alone on the couch. Except that it was probably the worst idea he could have had. Why? Because when he came back from the shower, his legs were completely exposed. To his defense, the weather outside wasn’t the type which made you want to cover up. But it was definitely not helping your unholy thoughts. 

“Are you calm now? Done with the biting stuff?” He asked, and you looked between him and his awfully muscular thighs. “You want a real answer?” You slowly raised an eyebrow and it made him roll his eyes. He sat back next to you and your hand almost immediately found its way to his thigh. The shiver he felt down his spine wasn’t usual at all. Since when were you so bold? 

“What’s got into you tonight?” And you simply giggled slightly, fingers and nails running up and down his skin. “Didn’t realize how built you were until now.” You admitted, and your words made a smirk appear on his lips. He looked back at you, and you could see the amusement in his eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t against any idea you had in mind. 

“Really? How about you show me what this little mind of yours is thinking about then?” His words sent a jolt of electricity all over your body. And before you could answer anything, your body had left the couch to end up between Jason’s arms who was standing up and walking towards your room. “I think I can do that.” You finally answered, ready to enjoy tonight’s meal.

thank you sm!!

[zahri-melitor]

Spoilery thoughts on Batman #148:

This story was pretty clearly drafted to be a 5 or 6 issue story, probably originally resolving in #150 as bringing the family together is a nice round number issue sort of event. My best guess is that the Nakano and Vandal Savage plot and some more of the back ups around the captured villains got cut to the bone to speed things up after Zdarsky was told #150 was needed for Absolute Power (and #149 is apparently doing the epilogue to set up for whatever goes on in Absolute Power). There’s a couple of really clear “and we just skipped 3-4 pages” sort of moments in the shape of the script for this issue (and in hindsight in #147) that if it had been allowed even an extra issue the story would have more space to breathe.

And despite that revised pagecount, Zdarsky still manages to deliver the moments he wanted to bring for Dick, Babs, Jason, Tim and Damian, so I’m impressed by that. Cass unfortunately did get relegated, but if I’m being objective about this, DC’s still waffling over whether Current Cass is adopted or not, and Zdarsky was already juggling a big list of characters (plus part of the point of having a big cast is that you don’t HAVE to focus on all the cast).

I did like how much space Zdarsky still found for the Damian-Tim-ZEA Robin plot. That did NOT resolve the way I predicted from the costume’s first hints in the background (I was totally on team ‘Tim puts on the costume sacrificially to try to get through to ZEA Bruce thinking he can handle this, and gets brainwashed’), but it was satisfying in terms of acknowledging Tim and Damian’s relationship (it was giving me Gates of Gotham vibes, which are the best Tim and Damian working together vibes), there was more discussion of the different elements both bring to the role of Robin and what’s good and bad about each, and how ZEA Robin doesn’t understand what makes you Robin. It was a pretty balanced fight scene. Tim gives Damian an assist, Damian gives Tim an assist, Tim’s a bit too overconfident and pays for it, Damian was a bit petulant about having to sit part of it out (though being tied up is like, PURE Robin aesthetic).

As far as the costumes go for the Robins Fight scene: honestly, switching Tim into a darker costume that was black and green with red accents complemented Damian’s black and grey with red accents aesthetic well, and contrasted with the ZEA costume being so bright red and yellow (which is playing off the original red, yellow and purple ZEA suit). Jimenez also gave everyone a different mask shape, which also helped distinguish everyone when you have three ‘Robins’ appearing in the same fight. All the Bat redesigns at the moment are leaning into darker palettes, and I appreciated the choice to go back to green as Tim’s ‘colour’, rather than red, given: his pre-2006 history used to use green quite often as his distinguishing colour; he can share it with Babs (team green for the computer nerds!); it’s not a colour they’ve particularly focused on for Damian for ages; and it gets him out from under having to share colour palette with Jason, given Jason can’t keep a costume consistent for a year.

It’s fine. It’s not my favourite Robin design I’ve ever seen, it’s not the worst Robin design I’ve ever seen (even on Tim), and it made the fight a lot clearer to follow.

I really liked that Barbara’s contribution was Oracle based and it made her inclusion make sense. I cackled at Dick getting to punch Daniel Captio (I was having serious echoes of the Cave argument in Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive, and from Tim’s delighted face for that punch I think Tim was too).

In terms of Jason, having him volunteer to take on the Lazarus-linked part of the plot and tell Bruce “let us have control of our own decisions” IS the resolution and apology for the mind alteration plot (which I am still pretty sure was a Rosenberg driven decision, not a Zdarsky one, in Gotham War), and look. That’s the sort of resolution you get a lot for comics plots. They’re cool. It was never going to end up as a big song and dance.

I like that the resolution pulled everything back to Failsafe. Good way to round off 2 years on the title. Nice extended story arc, with shout outs all the way back to #125.

I did have to laugh at Nakano calling Cass, Steph and Duke ‘child soldiers’ though. Those are all actual adults, sir! Even Duke’s supposed to be 18+ now.

[britcision]

I am back! And with the beginnings of some answers to the mysteries, though sadly not the full John Constantine lowdown! But I will make it up to you all with some Harley shenanigans!

There just wasn’t enough space to get them both in and of course Harley comes first, I stan a queen (Quinn)

We’re gonna take a much closer look in Brucie’s head this time too as he gets a bunch of new information and maybe some new trauma, so this chapter and the next will be a lil Bruce heavy

(Jason is thrilled, believe me)

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

———————

Yeah This Might As Well Happen

Jason really wished he could just focus on having a good time with his family. The food was, as always, exquisite, and Sam and Tucker were moaning happily along with the others.

It smelled great. It looked great. It tasted great, but something in the back of Jason’s head just wouldn’t switch off.

Not until Danny came back.

Even the thought that Danny might be in danger while he just ate dinner sat like a lead weight in his stomach.

The expanded aura… well. It kind of helped? Being practically choked by Danny’s presence, aware in every pore of his skin that Danny was there, was fine, wasn’t hurting, did help.

It just. Made it impossible to really think about anything else.

He was barely following the conversation, just reading the intricacies of Danny’s mood changes and losing track of sentences as people said them.

Finally, finally, Danny’s aura shifted again.

Done-got him-no big deal-coming back.

Jason almost sagged in his seat, shoulders unknotting marginally (they probably wouldn’t finish until he could see Danny and prove he was fine).

Sent impatient-relieved-happy-hurry back as well as he could, and nearly dropped his fork at the warm swell of affection he received in return.

Well.

Affection-amused-teasing.

Clearing his throat, Jason did his best to will away the heat along the back of his neck. Nope, he wasn’t gonna blush when Danny wasn’t even here to look at him while smothering him in those feelings.

And it was definitely just the pit curling up into a little buzzing ball of happiness in his chest. Definitely not actually Jason melting like snow under a blow torch.

Whatever.

Danny was fine, he’d be back soon and Alfred had saved them both plates. And sure, maybe something in Jason wouldn’t unclench until he could see Danny in person, but letting Alfred’s cooking go cold was a sin.

He dug into his still steaming plate, forcing his shoulders to relax a little. Tucker and Tim were still talking about tech, currently disparaging what the GIW thought were elite security measures.

Harley had lured Sam, Duke, and Cass into a discussion of her new place in Coney Island at the other end of the table, and yeah, Jason could get interested in that.

Someone might have already asked, but hey. He waited for a convenient pause and leaned in.

“Didn’t Croc move down there with you? He and Riddler attacked the gala last night,” he explained when Harley made a curious noise, head cocking to one side.

Her brow furrowed, so apparently the others hadn’t gotten this far yet. Not sure if he was glad or gonna tease them mercilessly later.

“He what? Yeah, he moved in, but he came back this way ta keep me company as I came up here. Someone’s tryin’ ta give me a hard time cuzza my criminal record, an’ they’re gettin’ intel from one of your local problems,” she added with a shrug, waving her hand.

Cuz yeah, that was also on the list; she’d been up with Ivy, neither of them noticeably causing trouble before apparently Ida Manson got them out of town.

Cass made a small noise of concern and Harley patted her hand, grinning.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me doll, it’s all under control. Thought it might be Pengy havin’ another go at my spot but he burst into tears when I walked in so it’s prob’ly not him,” she said with a very self satisfied smile.

Jason chuckled softly because… yeah, he could picture that. It tracked.

“Smart man,” Duke agreed with a snicker and Harley gave him a fist bump.

“Yeah, I’ll run ‘em down. But why was Waylon at the gala? He jus’ said he was gonna look inta some shit while I was gone,” Harley asked, looking around the table for an answer.

Jason shrugged.

“All their demands were for Harvey Dent. Apparently he was planning to make a run and they beat him to the punch,” he explained, in as much as he understood.

If no one else had a hand on Dent by tonight, he miiiight stretch one of his Red Hood patrols out of Crime Alley to go for a look see.

The man missed his party. The least Jason could do was pay a personal visit.

“Croc mentioned Jason,” Cass noted with a small frown, looking up at him with concern.

And, yeah, that was the other reason he was thinking of getting involved. He couldn’t imagine what the fuck he’d done as a civvie to annoy Dent.

Harley huffed, blowing blonde bangs off her face and lacing her fingers, pointing at Jason.

“Okay, so we gotta go talk to Waylon tomorrow and find out what’s goin’ on. He’s comin’ with me back to Coney when the time comes so he ain’t got time for Arkham,” she said firmly, and something settled in Jason’s gut.

Waylon had so badly wanted the Red Hood not to turn out like he had; another criminal permanently trapped in the system. Yeah, he’d like to return the favour.

Of course, not everyone in the room was up on all the secrets. Sam leaned forward, breaking her quiet streak that as far as Jason knew was her longest ever.

“Wait, you’re going to break that guy out of jail? He wanted to strap a bomb vest to Jason,” she said harshly, finally snapping Tim and Tucker out of their little happy world.

Jason raised both hands.

“He didn’t succeed.” Much as Danny had freaked out about it, Jason wasn’t gonna complain about things that hadn’t happened.

Too much like it actually happened every day, he’d never be done.

Oh. Maybe that was kinda why Danny had freaked out. That probably wasn’t good.

His personal revelation was dampened by Harley waving a hand easily.

“Nah nah nah, we’re not gonna break ‘im out tomorra. He’s gonna tell us what the fuck he was thinkin’, I’m gonna break Dent’s kneecaps, and Batsy’s gonna give a character statement an’ get ‘im released ta me for community service.”

And if any of that didn’t work, they could still just break Croc out the next day. Jason knew the unspoken corollary.

Tucker’s eyebrows raised and he said the very stupidest thing that Jason had ever heard from a genius, and he’d seen Tim on 72 hours of no sleep.

“You know Batman?” He asked incredulously.

Harley stared at him for a long moment. Then snickered.

“Yeah, we know each other from work,” she said dryly, waving her fork, “we go way back.”

The assorted bats snickered to themselves and Tucker sunk back in his chair a little, grinning sheepishly around the table.

“Yeah… sorry.”

Sam rolled her eyes, arms folded as she frowned down the table. She clearly had a bigger question, which was probably fair for anyone who didn’t know the combined Harley-and-bats history.

“And you think Batman will do you a favour? He’s not exactly known to listen to reason,” she pointed out half sarcastically. Not that anyone in the room would argue.

There was a reason Jason loved her.

Harley weighed her up for a moment, then grinned, leaning forward.

“Y’know, kid, I don’t think we were introduced. There’s somethin’ real familiar about you,” she mused, folding her arms on the table and leaning over them, plate slowly nudged aside.

Sam smirked and shrugged. They were meeting a lot of new people these past couple days, but if she’d been doing the gala circuit her whole life?

Yeah, this probably wasn’t the worst. Harley was better than Jason had ever met at a party.

“Sam Manson. Friend of Jason’s through Danny,” she added with a nod to the empty seat still between her and Jason.

Harley beamed, hiking forward onto the table a little more.

“Oh, you’d be Ida’s granddaughter then?” She asked brightly, clearly pleased to have been right. “Your granny’s a real doll, sent me and Ivy on a real sweet vacation this week.”

Sam chuckled softly and nodded, giving Harley a half apologetic half cocky smile.

“Yeah, that’d be my fault. I’m not allowed to come to Gotham if there’s a chance Poison Ivy is in town,” she explained, fingers on her left hand tapping against her right arm.

Both of Harley’s brows went up.

“Oh? Are they scared somethin’ might happen to ya?” She asked, tone already very firmly suggesting she knew the answer.

So did most of the rest of the table, though Duke hadn’t actually heard the explanation last night. Not like he needed to, having met Sam for more than five minutes.

Sam didn’t disappoint. She gave another elegant half shrug, her smile turning fully dark.

“Oh, more the opposite. They think I’ll run off and join her if I see her,” she said innocently. Across the table, Tucker snorted most of a laugh.

A moment later Harley joined him, tossing her head back and laughing.

“Yeah, that sounds like Ida’s girl,” she agreed, wiping a dainty tear from her eye, “she was a real spitfire in her younger days, the stories she told Ivy when they were protestin’ together were wild.”

Sam was practically glowing with pride, and Jason had to admit that he would kinda like to meet her grandmother. He’d met her parents, and… well, maybe awesome skipped a generation.

Harley suddenly stopped, head cocking as she noticed something, a sly smile creeping across her face.

“So if they think you’ll run away with Ivy… whadda they think’ll happen if ya run into me?” She asked with a delicately studied innocence, examining her nails.

“Only good things,” Cass offered, grinning past Jason at Sam. Sam grinned back, giving Harley a shrug and a similarly innocent smile.

“Y’know, they’ve just never mentioned it. Clearly there’s no concerns there,” she agreed, and Jason snickered, raising his glass in a toast.

“None here,” he noted and Sam laughed, clinking her glass against his. Dick raised a hand, fighting a laugh.

“One concern for the integrity of Bruce’s skull?” He offered innocently, and laughed when Jason threw a napkin at him.

“If Bruce’s skull was gonna break it’d have done it years ago,” Steph opined as the voice of experience. Jason raised his glass to her too, but she was a little far to clink.

She grabbed hers up and raised it back anyway, and Sam filled the gap, clinking hers to Jason’s and then to Steph’s to pass it on.

“It’s good for him ta get his eggs scrambled,” Harley agreed from the other end of the table, raising her glass too, “and I’m gonna guess you did some percussive maintenance too that I’ll ask about later.”

“Bruce might still have a concussion,” Duke offered, not completely certain where he sat with this kind of joking, but the kid was new.

You had to watch Bruce try and kill himself going out on patrol with more bones broken than whole a couple times before you gave in to his indestructibility.

Shit, maybe he should ask Danny if Bruce was liminal. For all the guy was technically a default human, Jason knew literal aliens with a better grasp on humanity.

And ghosts, now.

Harley gave him a nod anyway and patted his hand.

“I’ll aim low then sugar, don’t you fret. But to answer yer other question, Sam, Batman’s gonna get Waylon out for me cuz he doesn’t want ‘im in Arkham any more ‘n we do. Bats wants us all ta get better, and Waylon does best left alone,” she explained with a shrug.

“Until you leave him unsupervised and he teams up with Riddler?” Tim asked with a slight smile.

Jason shook his head, leaning forward on his arms too.

“He wouldn’t do it for no reason. He asked what I’d done to upset Two Face, but I can’t think of anything.” They didn’t even cross paths often.

Dent had taken Red Hood’s claim on Crime Alley as a given, learned quickly that Jason didn’t give a shit about playing nice, and minded his business.

“You sound like you know him pretty well,” Tucker said with a slight frown, and Jason shrugged.

Yeah, Tucker wasn’t in on the Robin thing yet. Luckily there was an easy answer.

“I grew up in Gotham. You guys keep coming back and you’ll get a feel for most of ‘em too.”

Tucker hesitated for a moment, probably thinking back to Amity and their own ghostly rogues. Then he nodded, settling back to poke at his mostly finished plate.

Tim still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t know Waylon the way Jason did. They’d never had the chance to talk beyond the usual Robin-and-Rogue.

Jason could prove his point tomorrow. Maybe bring Danny along.

And like the thought summoned him, Jason’s phone buzzed to a text from Danny.

‘DannyP: who tf is Constantine??👀👀🤣’

**

Bruce sucked in a deep breath, eye closing, and forced himself to exhale.

He fucking hated magic.

So. Analysis.

From what he understood of Constantine’s general capabilities, him being difficult to find by malicious forces was not unexpected. That seemed credible.

Did Bruce count as a malicious force?

A stern self inventory, past the part that insisted he’d never wish harm on a teammate on principle, and… yes.

He would never have followed the impulse, would have stomped it down the moment he found the man, but he couldn’t deny the urge to lay hands was there.

He’d even been devising new layers of paperwork to insist the man fill out. With, yes, malice in his heart. Just a little bit of spite.

If that counted into making the man impossible to contact… well, he’d bear it in mind. And talk with Zatanna and Dr Fate and see it they could fine tune those wards a little more.

No matter how angry he was about Amity Park, he didn’t want anything actually harmful to happen to a colleague. Even this colleague. Although if he had to pick one…

No. That wasn’t a helpful train of thought.

Taking another steadying breath, this one slower and more evenly, he glanced down at the car. Danny wouldn’t hear anything while inside, but that wouldn’t stop him opening a door to ask what the hold up was.

Forcing Brucie’s casual tones on was harder than normal, but that was expected.

“I can’t really talk about that right now. Can you come by to visit tonight?” Bruce paused, checking his watch. Coming up on seven. “In an hour or so?”

*

The smile dropped off Constantine’s face as quickly as it had formed. Of fucking course the bat wanted everyone to run around to his fuckin’ schedule.

Raising hell for John all fuckin’ night and all fuckin’ day but when John actually got back to him it was all “oh now’s not a good time”.

His more spiteful side wanted to insist on right now, he was a busy man and he had shit to do that Batman wouldn’t even wanna fuckin’ think about.

Shit, John didn’t like thinking about it.

But it was only an hour, and he could use the damn zeta tubes, and it wasn’t like he’d been planning on fuckin’ sleeping. Why would he do that?

And if it unfucked his communicators, he could use that hour to ask the Superboys what the fuck they were playing at in Alaska.

And then he could sleep, Bat off his ass and conscience clean. Fuck it.

“Yeah, whatever. Wanna tell me what’s got your damn panties in a twist in case there’s shit I need to get ready?”

So of course Bat-tastic said the two worst words Constantine had heard in his life.

“Amity Park.”

Fuck.

**

Bruce didn’t enjoy the sharp little intake of breath, followed by no sass whatsoever. It wasn’t easy to make John Constantine speechless.

No, this was definitely just satisfaction that the man knew the gravity of what he’d done. That whatever reasons he’d had, he knew Bruce would be waiting for a damn good explanation.

That there might be one.

Bruce didn’t like even considering that an ally would have done something so serious just because he didn’t want to deal with it. Even Constantine.

When the man hadn’t spoken almost a minute later, Bruce took pity on him.

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

Constantine managed a weak agreement and he nodded, satisfied at least that the man would still be there. And if he wasn’t, Bruce could work out a way to reach him again.

Someone had obviously found him to tell him Bruce was looking for him. And apparently there were consequences for Constantine too if he tried to avoid him.

He hesitated for a moment before getting back into the car. He’d been planning to ask Danny gently about Amity Park, to try and work out what had happened.

Something light that might make him lower his guard. Then turn the subject to Jason. How precisely Danny was helping him. What he knew of the pits.

They wouldn’t have time for a full interrogation, not even in the tail end of rush hour traffic, but it would be a start.

But did he want to tip his hand now? Before Constantine gave him the truth about Amity Park, when all it would take was a matter of hours?

Danny likely knew that Brucie was a mask, but it might be useful to keep it on just a little longer.

Light subjects only then. From what Dick and Tim had reported, Danny was equally likely to just drop some huge revelation to see what Bruce would do.

Yes.

Perhaps he could bait that tendency by being innocuous.

Bruce slid back into the driver’s seat, giving Danny his best, emptiest smile.

“So sorry about that. Just a business contact I’ve been having trouble tracking down, so I didn’t want to let him slip away again.” Honesty, in case he could tell.

They would need to get a better idea of Danny’s power-set. If Duke couldn’t do it alone, perhaps Tim’s observation skills could help.

Danny barely glanced up from his phone, shooting Bruce a quick grin before returning his attention to the screen.

“Yeah? Didn’t know anything got done over the new year, I’d have thought everyone was too hung over.” It sounded like a joke, a cheerful prod.

Bruce swore internally anyway, because he was right. Clearly he knew more than an average student.

He didn’t let it show, chuckling along good naturedly.

“Oh I’d have much preferred getting this done with before the new year, but some people are a little hard to get hold of,” he explained jovially, starting the car and backing out.

Danny hummed an agreement, not looking up from his phone. A sharp glance (he could always say he was checking the boy was strapped in) did not show him the screen.

When had Danny strapped in? Bruce would swear he hadn’t when he’d sat, but it was there now.

Clearly his apparent absorption was a trick. Intended to remind Bruce of a typical young adult, make him lower his guard.

Danny stifled a laugh just as they were leaving the garage, and Bruce barely resisted another effort to look over. The screen would still be tilted away.

His opponent was a cunning one.

Or he was overreacting. It could be a real innocence, not a calculated one. A young man paying more attention to his phone?

He wouldn’t have thought it sinister if it were Tim, Dick, Duke, any of their friends.

No.

He couldn’t take that chance. Not with Jason. He couldn’t afford to relax his guard.

It was unfair to Danny, unfair to both of them.

He’d lost Jason once by not paying close enough attention, and Bruce would be the very first to admit that he’d never gotten his boy back.

Jason had returned in body, mind, and soul, just like he’d wished and prayed for for so long. But there was a distance now that Bruce had no idea how to bridge.

He’d thought he was on the right path last night, but a constant nagging in his gut told him he was wrong.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Jason’s shocked, white face when he’d apologised. It was a blessing he’d had enough to keep him from his bed.

He’d been so sure it was the right move. The next step to closing the distance between them. Offering Jason the public apology, the acknowledgement that Bruce had failed him.

But that was why Bruce would face gods and walk backwards into Hell before he let anything else try and take his baby boy from him again.

“Y’know, you could just tell Jason you love him.”

Bruce nearly crashed the car.

Luckily they were at a red light, so his reflexive slamming hit the brake, not the gas, and the car barely lurched.

When he was sure his heart was still beating, he chanced a glance over at Danny.

The boy was half smirking down at his phone, clearly aware of the consternation he’d caused, and looked up when he felt Bruce’s eyes on him.

And shrugged, like it was nothing.

“Dude, you’re brooding so hard there’s basically a black cloud over your head.”

Add mind reading to the list of suspected powers.

Bruce felt his eyes narrowing before rigid control snapped back into place, keeping his expression Brucie-open.

“What do you mean?” He asked, in a tone he knew gave nothing away.

Danny snorted like he’d told a joke.

“Man, I’m just saying. Jason barely thinks you fuckin’ like him, it’d save you both a lot of trouble if you’d just sit him down and tell him how you feel.”

Bruce hesitated for a long moment, staring into deep blue eyes that suddenly seemed as deep and unreadable as the deepest ocean. As old as time.

Then he forced his eyes back to the road as the light turned and cars started moving again.

That. Couldn’t be true. It was an attempt at manipulation.

A predator expertly analysing what he thought was Bruce’s greatest weakness, striking to do as much damage as he could.

Of course Jason knew that Bruce loved him. He must have. He had to.

There was no way this stranger who by all accounts Jason had known for barely a week could know more about Jason’s life than his own father.

**

Danny hummed softly to himself, most of his attention on his phone as he texted back and forth with Jason.

‘DannyP: ur dad is giving me the biggest cop energy rn 😳🚔🚔’

Mostly ignoring just the solid waves of angst emanating from Bruce like miasma. Poor guy was only wrapping himself tighter in his own head for Danny’s interjection.

‘JTodd: Yeah Dickie comes by it honestly.’

That was probably a sign Danny shouldn’t do it again.

‘DannyP: 👀👀 think he’s mad at me’

Danny wasn’t great at following signs. Or sitting quietly, in all honesty.

‘JTodd: No one told you not to fly back.’

‘DannyP: Imma make it worse 😈😈’

Tucking his feet up to the edge of his seat, he slumped down as low as he could, glancing up at Bruce through his bangs.

“Sooooooo, how was lunch with Vlad? You seem to have survived, so I’m gonna guess football didn’t come up much?” He prodded, still half suspecting Masters had been up to something.

Bruce wasn’t overshadowed, didn’t have any of Vladdie’s taint that said it had happened in the past, but Danny wasn’t gonna rule out something new.

And all the clenching the big guy was doing on the wheel and on his jaw looked kinda painful.

‘JTodd: I’ll give a touching speech at your funeral.’

Bruce did finally force himself to relax though, sucking in a breath like he’d forgotten he had to.

Mood. Danny forgot about breathing a fair chunk too. Didn’t always remember to do it at all.

His posture changed too, shifting forcefully back to the more lax, open lines of his public persona, but there wasn’t much point. Danny could still feel his aura locked shut like a steel trap.

Being Batman kinda seemed like it sucked so far, and Bruce hadn’t even been a high school hero. Guess being an adult didn’t really make everything easier after all.

The smile he shot Danny didn’t show any of the inner turmoil though, so kudos there.

“It was great, actually. Your godfather is a very charming man,” he added, and Danny stuck his tongue out.

“Oh we’re so not calling him that. He’s just Vladdie, nothing to do with me at all,” he corrected vehemently, making a face.

Checked his phone.

‘DannyP: ABORT ABORT ABORT MISSION HE LIKES VLAD 😡🤮😱’

Bruce made a curious noise beside him, and Danny huffed. There were some things that would have been simpler if Vlad had just been brain washing him.

“Oh? He speaks very highly of you, Danny. I’m a little surprised you don’t get along.” The big guy was clearly fishing, and Danny would give him something to catch alright.

“Yeah? Cuz all he’s ever said to me was that I’m weak, lazy, unmotivated, and will never amount to anything without him. Oh, and that he wants to kill my dad and marry my mom,” he added as an afterthought.

And watched Bruce from the corner of his eye. He looked honestly surprised, but Danny had already learned not to judge from his face.

He felt surprised too though. Surprised and suspicious.

‘JTodd: He’s a great judge of character.’

Fuck it was hard not to laugh at his just flawless acting when Danny had the cheat sheet into his heart.

They drove in silence for a block, Bruce apparently not sure what to say, and Danny gave him a pat on the elbow.

“Don’t feel bad. I dunno what he’s playing at either, but he’s really, really good at telling people what they want to hear.”

And didn’t that do some interesting things to the guy’s aura. Danny had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

No matter what he fucking said, it seemed to be convincing Bruce that he was sketchier and sketchier.

‘DannyP: okay but literally every word i say’s making him more and more suspicious and he didn’t even get whammied this is bs 😔😒💔’

He did kinda regret that one pretty much immediately, a sudden wave of protective anger pulsing through his aura.

Making a face again, he focused on wrapping Jason up in his own, soothing him with gentle reminders safe-safe-i’m fine-not hurting me.

Yeah, there were some fucking Issues with a capital I that Danny deadass just wasn’t gonna touch until Jazz got a look in.

No matter what though, he didn’t fucking like what it told him about Bruce. About Jason’s relationship with Bruce.

Maybe he shoulda brought the Fenton thermos. He usually had one on him, but his suit hadn’t come with pockets you could hide a thermos in.

For all Sam bitched about her dress, she coulda carried a rocket launcher and no one would have known.

He was so busy focusing on Jason he didn’t actually notice that Bruce was talking to him again until the man had repeated his name a couple of times, now sounding worried.

Feeling suspicious. Sounding worried.

“Danny?”

Danny shook his head, hair flopping around his face and half his attention still on Jason’s cranky ass.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said still half distracted, and felt the suspicion ramp up another notch.

For all that he couldn’t laugh aloud, wrapping the desire and the need to laugh around Jason seemed to be helping. He settled enough to text back anyway.

‘JTodd: Sorry. Probably my fault.’

Well that was bullshit.

“I said I’m sorry, Danny. He mentioned you had a difficult past, but I had no idea…”

And yeah, that probably was too. Easy to prioritise though.

‘DannyP: ur gonna be Jazz’s final psych project if u keep that up and i will not save u 😤🫡👻’

‘DannyP: 🖕💋he’s a grown ass adult and so am i and i can be a sketchy bitch just fine on my own sir’

And since Bruce was going to take whatever he did as suspicious anyway, Danny might as well get him warmed up for Harley.

“Yeah, well, don’t go throwing a public party to all of high society about it. Trust me, I do not need a second creepy billionaire trying to make me a show pony.”

Another block of silence, but Danny was satisfied that this one was at least less certain. Felt like a big decision was afoot.

Finally Bruce sighed and deflated, and for once his aura matched the gesture.

“It was a mistake, wasn’t it?” It almost wasn’t a question. Danny figured that progress deserved a reward anyway. Kinda.

“Well again, Harley Quinn came back from the Amazon to kick your ass about it, so yes. I think we can both agree that was a bad life choice.”

Bruce’s grip tensed on the steering wheel a little and Danny relented. Fuck him for being a softie.

Even when he was also still kinda pissed, it was hard to ignore the sudden doubt, fear, guilt suddenly stinking up the car.

The anger, much more familiar. Danny knew exactly what to do about angry people, but Bruce’s anger felt a little too familiar. A little too internal-only.

“He said you’d never told him you were sorry before, man. Not even once until you shoved him right into the spotlight. What does it say that you can say it to me but not him?” He asked softly.

Bruce was quiet for most of the rest of the drive, but since he actually seemed to be thinking about what Danny had said, Danny left him to it.

It was as they were finally pulling up to the gates of Wayne Manor that he spoke again.

“I may not have been much of a father to Jason, but I won’t see him hurt again. Not if I can help it.” There wasn’t actually any menace in the tone.

Just a stone cold certainty that was way, way scarier.

Well. Probably for anyone who wasn’t the actual ghost king. Or just uncontrollably sarcastic.

Danny grinned.

“Well if this is gonna be your shovel talk, you should be aware that I’ve already been six feet under. It takes a lot to scare me,” he teased, resting his bare feet on the console in front of him.

Outside, the gate swung slowly open. Bruce took advantage of the pause to stare directly at him again, those blue eyes suddenly piercing and not even trying to hide the intelligence within.

“Noted.”

And okay. Maybe Danny needed to invest in some more one liners, cuz that was way fucking cooler than any complicated threat or pun.

Kinda hated how cool it was, actually.

He let just a little of the eldritch creep into the smile he gave back.

“Oh, and Bruce? Samesies. Seems like Jason has a lot more people who have his back than he thinks he does, but now? He’s also got me. And Harley’s probably the nice one.”

If the guy was going to think the fucking worst of Danny no matter what, might as well use that to try and make him be a less shitty dad.

Shovel talking the Ghost King? That took some balls.

Bruce didn’t seem to be noticeably intimidated though. Just stared at Danny for a long moment, eyes narrowed, before he nodded again.

“You don’t know Harley well,” he remarked dryly, heading on up the ridiculously long driveway to the house.

Danny didn’t actually manage to pull all the way back into human tones before he laughed, the shadows stretching and creaking around the sound.

“Yeah, fair point.” He sure as shit wouldn’t argue it where she could hear him after all.

**

It took Steph to finally bring the conversation back around to the thermos.

They’d moved on to telling Harley the actual details of what had happened at the gala, from Bruce’s crimes to Sam and Danny’s.

Harley was absolutely delighted by the whole story, and it was Steph who gave Sam a gentle nudge, grinning at her.

“Y’know, I never got around to asking why you even had that giant thermos. I was with you most of the night and I never saw you drinking from it?” She asked.

Sam chuckled softly, reaching into the deep pocket of Cass’s pants and pulling out the thermos in question. She always had one on her.

Tucker was supposed to as well, but if he knew she was gonna be there? Yeah, he tended to forget. Or save the space for something more interesting.

“Oh, this? Yeah this really isn’t a drinking thermos,” she explained, setting it on the table and sharing an amused glance with Tucker.

Maybe side eying Jason. It was gonna be a drinking thermos for him, poor bastard.

Steph’s eyebrows rose and she reached out, taking the thermos when Sam nodded her assent. Turning it over in her hands.

“Wait, so it’s strictly a combat thermos?” She asked like it was a joke, grinning at Sam as she unscrewed the lid.

Tucker stifled a laugh from across the table and Sam grinned back, leaning back in her chair. The table had been cleared of dinner by now, but dessert they’d wait on Bruce and Danny for.

Speaking of Danny…

“Actually, yeah. The Fenton Thermos is pretty much our best tool for the rogue attacks we get in Amity Park,” she explained with a modest shrug.

Steph looked even more surprised, hefting the unexpected weight of what looked like an empty thermos.

“It made a pretty good throwing weapon,” Dick offered from the end of the table. Tucker snickered and shook his head, holding out a hand to Steph.

“It’s not actually meant to be for throwing, but that definitely worked,” he agreed, gesturing for the thermos.

Turning it to show the table, Tucker pointed to the big green button on the side. The big, obvious green button that you could pretty easily press by accident.

“You can capture ghosts with it once they’ve been weakened, and then Danny lets them out back in the Ghost Zone. It doesn’t actually hurt them, but apparently it’s not comfortable.”

“How do you know, if it only catches ghosts?” Duke asked, a slight frown on his face and he leaned forward to see around Tim.

Tucker shot him a smug grin, twirling the thermos and passing it back to Sam. Clearly enjoying his time in the spotlight, and Sam wouldn’t begrudge him that.

Not when she could bully him about showing off for his new boyfriend later. It was kinda cute watching that hero worship turning into an actual proper crush.

Cuter that Tim was being just an average guy, and Tucker was still losing his shit over it. Sweet revenge for all those times the boys teased her about her crush on Val.

“Well, for one thing pretty much all of our ghosts have stopped trying to attack these days, and some of them are actually pretty chill? Buuuut you can also use it to catch half ghosts,” Tucker explained with a smug grin.

Sam chuckled, taking the cap back from Steph and screwing it back on.

“Danny says it’s like being squished into a really tight sleeping bag. Worse if someone else is in there with him, but they can’t really move or fight in there.”

“If someone’s been a real pain in the ass sometimes Danny keeps them in Soup Time for a week or so as punishment,” Tucker added, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head.

“Isn’t that unethical?” Dick asked, down beside Damian, and Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, do the people you arrest only get locked up for a day or so?” She asked dryly and Dick grinned, raising both hands.

“They don’t get locked in really tight sleeping bags. But what happens after they’re let out? They just go back in the Ghost Zone?” He prodded, not quelled by her stare this time.

Good. More fun when people fought back. And, for a cop, Dick wasn’t really all that bad.

He’d probably get fired for that pretty soon.

Sam shrugged, taking over the explanation for now and tucking the thermos back into her pocket.

“Pretty much. Most of the ghosts pretty much just showed up to fight Phantom and the trouble they caused around town was part of that.”

“Phantom being Danny’s superhero name?” Tim asked, looking extremely covetously at where the thermos had disappeared under the table.

Sam stuck her hand in the top of the pocket, keeping it on the lid of the thermos. They didn’t exactly have enough to spare.

Of course Tucker swept in when his boytoy had a question.

“Yeah, that’s him. The town used to call him Inviso-Bill until he actually told someone to call him Phantom instead,” he added, snickering.

Sam couldn’t resist chuckling along; honestly, if she ever learned who’d started that nickname she’d send them flowers. It was fucking priceless.

“Yeah. There were some rowdier ghosts, usually when their Obsessions got triggered, but honestly? Once they were beaten most of them settled down. It was just the ones that wanted to brawl with Danny that kept coming back.”

“We didn’t really have anything else to do with them either,” Tucker pointed out with a snicker, shaking his head, “it was Soup Time, back home, or the Fenton family dissection table.”

Their hosts looked suitably disturbed at that, Harley leaning in from her end of the table to be the voice of the room.

“The Fenton family what the fuck? Didn’t ya say the kid was a Fenton?” She asked sharply.

Sam ran a quick mental check of the list Danny had cleared them to talk about. Yeah, the Fenton parents were on it.

Just not the Ghost King stuff, anything about Jason, and anything specific about Ellie. No worries there.

She shrugged again, fingers tapping on the table. From her guess and Jason’s texting, Danny should be back soon.

“The Fenton parents were the ones who made a portal to the Ghost Zone in the first place. They were really interested in dissecting and studying any ghosts they could catch for a long time,” she explained dryly, not bothering to hide her feelings on the matter.

Duke looked a little sick. Maybe she should tone it down some, for the young and innocent among them.

“But that’d include Danny,” Dick pointed out, suspicion rising towards horror.

Sam fixed her gaze on him, not letting him look away.

“Yeah. It did. Which is why the three of us spent our high school years fighting ghosts and protecting the town in secret, cuz if we told anyone we thought Danny would go on the table.”

“They totally took it way better than we thought though,” Tucker tacked on quickly, searching something up on his PDA, probably for pictures of the GAV. “They’re Phantom’s biggest fans now.”

He tilted the screen to show Tim, whose jaw dropped.

Yeah, to be fair, words didn’t do the GAV’s new paint job justice. Tucker passed the tablet on to Tim to show Duke and Harley, and it made its way around the table.

They were probably running out of time.

Sam leaned in, catching the attention of the rest of the table and making eye contact with most of them.

“Some basic etiquette though, before Danny gets back? You never, ever ask a ghost how they died. They might bring it up, but you don’t ask. Okay?”

“Wait, why not?” Tim asked, his brows furrowing as he turned back to her. “Isn’t that the first thing they do in all those ghost hunting shows?”

Which. Well. Sam had a whole special rant about ghost hunting shows and their bullshit, but before she got started Jason cut her off.

“Cuz dying fucking sucks, Timmy. Do you wanna bug Steph or Dick about the times they died?” He asked pointedly, and Tim flushed.

Yeah, that kinda explained the death taint Sam could just about taste from half the table. She wasn’t going to mention it, because she had some damn manners.

Tim seemed to have gotten the point though, stammering a quick apology and sinking back into his seat. Tucker gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

“Pretty much the first thing you gotta learn about real ghosts is that ghost hunters have no idea what they’re doing. They don’t even ecto infuse their tech,” he added with a derisive snort.

Sam rolled her eyes, stifling a grin. Alfred had disappeared, which probably meant Danny was imminent.

“Harder to do without a ghost or half ghost on your team, Tuck. But more to the point, do you guys wanna see the Fenton Thermos in action?” She asked innocently, pulling it back out of her pocket to wiggle.

Once again, Harley spoke for the table.

“Hell yeah. Are ya gonna throw it at Brucie again too?” She asked brightly, and Sam paused, considering.

Finally sighed and shook her head.

“Probably not. I’ll let you handle him,” she decided, smirking as Harley reached back down for her trusty bedazzled bat.

“That’s what the ol’ Therapy Bat’s for,” Harley agreed brightly, getting to her feet. She’d clearly clocked Alfred’s exit too. And the approaching sets of footsteps.

Sam grinned and readied the thermos.

**

Bruce had almost forgotten that Harley would be waiting until Danny reminded him. An unusual lapse for him, but he had a lot on his mind.

The only thing he wanted to do was get down to the cave and talk to Constantine; to finally get some answers, both on what had gone wrong in Amity Park and precisely what was keeping them out now.

He had the very tiniest bit of hope that one question might also hold the answer to the other; that it was perhaps something Constantine had done, or could undo.

He did not like having to rely on biased secondary sources for data. It was frustrating to run into so many dead ends.

Luckily for him though, Danny had reminded him, which meant he could take Harley aside, find out what she wanted, and get it dealt with instead of going straight to the cave and being surprised.

As little as he liked John Constantine, he wouldn’t subject the man to Harley if he could help it. Harley was something of a kryptonite to many of the magicians; she broke their rules in ways they couldn’t reconcile.

Bruce absolutely did not doubt Zatanna that Harley had temporarily sold herself to a demon prince and within 24 hours annoyed him so much that he gave her back, deal intact.

She was a force to be reckoned with. And privately… Bruce would hang up the cowl if Constantine decided he wanted to give her methods a try on top of his own.

No. Best keep them as far away from each other as possible.

So he was accompanying Danny and Alfred to the family dining room, where he’d collect Harley and take her to his office.

Half an hour to get through whatever she wanted, and then he could go down and talk to Constantine. The perfect plan.

Part of him hoped that Danny had been right, and she was here to explain what he’d done wrong with Jason.

Bruce would be the first to admit that he just… couldn’t seem to do right when it came to his second son.

He loved Jason dearly, but his death was something Bruce had never gotten over. He’d seen Jason so many times, as he died and as Bruce imagined he’d have grown over those years.

It had been hard for him to believe Jason really was himself, even if he looked nothing like Bruce had always expected. He’d always been so small.

No. He’d refused to believe it. Refused to believe the kind, loving boy he’d known could have become this large and angry killer.

It had coloured their relationship ever since. The things Jason had done, the things Bruce had done to stop him.

The fury with which Jason had forced his real identity down Bruce’s throat until he couldn’t deny it anymore. The one person he thought he could never let down again.

Jason was calmer now. Had a lid on the rage, and just plain walked away when he was on the edge of his control. Bruce admired that, as much as he could.

The only thing Bruce knew how to do with his emotions was push them aside and try to keep soldiering on, and it had cost his family so many times.

He’d thought he was getting better, but when it came to Jason… Bruce knew he still wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d upset Jason at the gala, he knew he had.

He’d seen it in his face, even if Jason had covered it before reaching the stage. He just wasn’t sure how.

Bruce prided himself on his ability to read faces. He was certainly no Cass, but it was his most used skill. Jason’s had never been a mystery to him before.

But somehow all Bruce could see in the older Jason’s face was the shadows of the bruises, the beating that face had worn the last time Bruce held him in his arms.

Cold. Lifeless. A death mask that only ever seemed to clear under Lazarus green rage.

He didn’t know when his baby boy had become so unreadable to him. What part of the horrors which Jason had lived through had made him put on a mask so thick Bruce couldn’t see through it.

And he was afraid to ask. Afraid of what he might see under that mask, and afraid to hear everything Jason had been put through because of Bruce’s failure.

He could have asked Danny in the car. At least where he’d gone wrong last night. They’d been alone, without anyone to overhear. And yet…

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to trust Danny. Oddly he found himself liking the boy more since Danny had threatened him, but his doubts remained.

Vlad had been personable, charming, and open during their meal together, and Bruce knew all too well how vile men could put on a front like that.

Normally he would have trusted Danny’s impression of Vlad over his own implicitly; it was part of the reason he brought his children to galas.

Brucie Wayne was too well known, too powerful, too influential. No one wanted to show him anything but their best, the sides they thought he would like to see.

The truest measure of a person came in the way they treated those they saw as beneath them, and for most adults that would automatically always include children.

Danny’s words tracked with the odd moments of quiet regret in Masters’ face when he talked about his godson. Far more egregious than the “misunderstandings” he’d hinted at, but a testament nonetheless.

There had been no trace of a lie in Danny’s voice or face. And yet.

There was no fear either. Not a trace of concern at being alone in the room together before Bruce returned.

None of the wariness one would naturally expect when a young man faced a much older adult who had at the very least made serious threats towards his family and possibly psychologically abused him.

It didn’t make sense. There was no right or wrong way to respond to an abuser, but Danny’s open antagonism of Vlad pointed at something else. A piece Bruce was still missing of what passed between them.

There were too many unanswered questions about Danny Fenton, and the situation with Jason was too delicate to rely on a single unknown factor.

No.

Danny may take advantage of any perceived weakness to steer him wrong, push him to another mistake, widen the rift between Bruce and his son.

It wasn’t safe. Wasn’t the plan.

For all that she’d been a rogue, Bruce trusted Harley implicitly… at least in matters of the heart. On the off chance she was there for anything else, he could still ask her before she left.

Maybe after he was done with Constantine.

Of course no one was around to give him answers when he had plenty of spare time on his hands. No, they had to come all at once.

Fine.

He may have to leave Jason with Danny for now, but they would hardly be unsupervised. The others would keep a watch for him while he got answers.

Bruce was actually beginning to feel pretty good about the evening by the time they reached the dining room.

And then the door opened, Danny walked through, and vanish in a blur of bright blue light.

Bruce threw up a hand to shield his eyes as light flashed across him, and it went dark a moment later.

Sam Manson was holding the thermos again (his head throbbed a warning), screwing the lid back on with a satisfied smirk.

Danny Fenton was gone. Just gone. Like he’d never been there, until.

“I fucking hate you so much.”

That was Danny’s voice, no doubt about it, coming from… the thermos.

What.

As Steph would say.

The fuck.

**

Harley was the first to recover her voice, throwing both hands into the air and whooping.

“Now THAT is what I call a party trick! You kids ever wanna come out Coney Island way ya can stay with me an’ take a turn at th’ Freakshow if ya want!”

The room froze, temperature actually plummeting as the Amity Parkers both flinched.

(Danny mighta also flinched but he was in a soup thermos, it was harder to tell.)

Tucker spoke up, making a face and exchanging a look with Sam.

“Uh… pass, thanks. Had some pretty bad experiences with clowns and circuses,” he explained, and Harley nodded understandingly.

No matter how much he liked to pretend he was, Joker was hardly the first asshole to wear the face paint.

It was why she didn’t wear hers if she was gonna be anywhere around Jason.

Not like she’d liked the full face stuff Joker did anyway. She could have a lot more fun with eyeshadow and a little lipstick, but some people needed to be terrified.

Harley Quinn’s war paint was satisfyingly terrifying enough that she’d pull it out for special occasions.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” she agreed easily, noted the air began to warm.

So it was one of them doing it. And from the way the two she could see relaxed just after, she’d put her money on Danny. Made sense with the ghost thing.

Anyway, she’d come here for a reason. Strolling casually over towards Brucie, she ruffled a hand through Jason’s and then Sam’s hair.

“Yer all still welcome to come visit though, just call ahead an’ I’ll tell the crew to put the theatrics on hold. I got a whole floor full of puppies and kittens that need some love,” she told them cheerfully.

And paused at a sudden horrible ripping sound, like part of the universe had been velcro and just pulled itself apart.

A glowing green hole opened just behind Sam’s chair and Danny’s head poked through, just a little below Harley’s height.

“You have a fucking what?”

She ruffled his hair too, grinning.

“Yeah, building I inherited had a free floor my aunt used ta rent, I didn’t want anyone upsettin’ my crew and all these lil cuties were just wasting away at the pound so Ivy did me up an indoor park. There’s about thirty of ‘em,” she explained brightly.

Sam snickered, settling comfortably in her turned chair.

“Bet cleaning up after that many is a treat,” she commented dryly and Harley tipped her a wink.

“It’s no trouble! I do the scoopin’ and once a week we load the big bags up on th’ roof catapult and shoot ‘em into the city. At the mayor’s house if he’s bein’ trouble.”

“Harley, I have a theory about who might want you gone,” Duke put in from the other end of the table, all dry sarcasm.

Harley laughed and blew him a kiss, giving her bat a lazy twirl.

“Hey, if he wants me ta stop all he’s gotta do is stop bein’ a pain in my ass an’ I’ll shoot ‘em at the dump,” she told him cheerfully, then turned back to Danny.

Back in the black hair. Didn’t seem like it mattered if he was actively a ghost or not gettin’ sucked inta the thermos. Interesting.

“You need a tow out?” She asked, other hand dropping back to his hair to give a gentle tug.

Danny gave her a slightly suspicious look.

“Do you promise no mind control or creepy clown shit?” He asked warily, and Harley loosed her grip to pat him on the cheek.

“Pinky promise, suga. I’m about to go give Brucie ‘is own private dose of scary clown shit that I’m sure he’ll completely understand that he wants to be in private,” she added more pointedly, giving Bruce a sharp look over her shoulder.

Behind her, Danny shrugged and pulled the rest of his body through the green rip, giving Sam a smack upside the head as his feet touched the floor and snatching the thermos from her.

“Confiscated til you’ll only use it’s power responsibly,” he told her, sticking his tongue out and dropping down into his seat, thermos held preventatively back and over his head.

Which made it all too easy for Jason to reach up and grab it from him, tucking it into the front of his hoodie pocket when Danny whipped around indignantly.

“You’re not responsible either,” Jason pointed out smugly and Danny sputtered but didn’t quite find words to argue.

They were fucking adorable.

If she didn’t have ta go try and beat the sense back inta Brucie’s head she’d have the time of her life just pinching their cheeks and winding them up about what to her studied eye was a pair of oblivious fresh forming crushes.

Young love was just the cutest when it was in that awkward blushy denial phase.

Yeah, Brucie was getting an extra whap for tearing her away from that.

Turning back to the big man, she prodded her bat into the center of his chest.

“So! Whaddaya think, big guy? Wanna give a nice big public apology for ya fuck up or shall we go talk somewhere in private?” She asked firmly, emphasizing those last words into a threat.

Bruce’s attention snapped away from glaring at Danny and Jason to fix on her, clearly analyzing her words. Of all the hopeless little shits…

She was gonna find someone to get him his proper diagnosis. Had to at this point.

Couldn’t be her, she was technically a conflict of interest, but holy fuck the man screamed emotional disregulation with a hefty side of autism spectrum.

At least he’d know what direction he needed help in, as if he wouldn’t promptly ignore any advice that included “talk about ya damn feelings”. Too bad for him.

She gave him another firm poke with the bat and he nodded sharply, gaze snapping from her around to the door.

His shoulders settled just a little, posture relaxing in what she knew was relief as he motioned for her to follow. Still looked tense as hell, but she’d probably only get a dime back for bouncing a nickel off him now.

That was real relaxed for Brucie.

Maybe he was finally self aware enough to accept that he needed some help with all the emotional stuff.

Good. Maybe she’d only do one kneecap.

**

As Harley followed Bruce out of the room, Sam’s phone began buzzing dramatically in her pocket. Abandoning her quest for the thermos, she pulled it out and glanced down.

Grinned wickedly. She’d been expecting this for a while now actually.

“Aw, look, my parents saw our selfies on Twitter,” she cooed sarcastically, Manson Party Voice making a brief return.

Danny scooted just a little away from the still buzzing phone.

“So are you gonna get that?” He asked as Alfred brought him a perfectly reheated plate. “What? Oh, thanks.”

Sam shrugged, hit speakerphone, and set it on the table. They’d posted those pictures pretty much solely for the incoming reaction.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She said sweetly, still in her public facing voice.

Her mother did not sound nearly as composed.

“SAMANTHA. Where ARE you?! What are you wearing?! Where are your clothes and WHY, in the name of all that’s good, are you anywhere near HARLEY QUINN?! Have you been kidnapped?!”

Sam rolled her eyes hard enough that Tucker faked a fatal injury across the table. She flipped him off as Tim and Duke stifled laughs.

“Yes, mother, I have been kidnapped and just answered my phone completely normally. I’m at the Waynes’,” she added quickly, before her mother could jump to conclusions.

And gave her some new conclusions to jump to instead, but who cared. Still, something seemed to be sticking in her mom’s mind.

“With Harley Quinn?” She asked suspiciously after a moment’s silence.

Which, to be fair, was kind of a good point.

“Apparently she’s a family friend? Like Grandma and Ivy,” Sam added delicately, a vicious satisfaction rising through her.

She’d gotten to say her piece at the gala yesterday and had thought she was done, but. Well. Years of restriction and so on.

She was definitely still having fun winding her parents up.

Her mom’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible even over the phone, and then the shouting started again.

“Samantha MANSON do not even THINK about going anywhere with that woman! You have responsibilities! School! Your work! We’re coming to pick you up RIGHT NOW, and… where are your CLOTHES?!”

Alfred cleared his throat from behind them, where he’d stayed from delivering Danny’s dinner. Sam half turned and he raised a brow, inclining his head slightly.

She scooted her chair out of the way to let him get closer to the phone, waving a hand in open invitation.

“If I may interject,” Alfred said calmly, not a trace that anything was even slightly amiss, “the young lady’s clothes are in the dryer at present. They will be finished shortly.”

Another long silence. Her mom probably realizing that Sam had her on speaker. And that she would still be on speaker the next time she spoke.

Finally she choked out a terse, “thank you. I do hope she has been behaving herself. We will be there to pick you up in half an hour, Sammy, and we will Have Words.”

Which Sam kinda doubted, given where the hotel was and how long it had taken Danny and Bruce to get back, but time would tell.

At least they weren’t hiring a helicopter.

It sucked to have to leave, but she’d have needed to head out soon anyway. Her flight back to university would be leaving this evening, and at least this way she could hang out with the others until her parents arrived.

No reason not to needle them more though.

“Aw but mom, I’m having such a good time hanging out with Cass,” she sighed, switching from Party to Heartfelt Woe expertly.

Down beyond Jason, Cass stifled a giggle. It clearly sent Sam’s mom into another spiral of conflicting emotions; delight, hope, ecstasy, and ongoing horror at the presence of Harley.

Who, technically, was no longer present in the room, but telling her mom that would only make her feel better, so Sam wasn’t gonna bother.

Honestly, if she wanted to run away and be an ecoterrorist with Pamela Isley, she could just ask Grandma to text her. She didn’t need kidnapping.

Still, apparently the risk of a close contact with Poison Ivy outweighed her mom’s desire to see her cozy up with the Waynes.

It’d have been real sweet if it had been a worry for Sam’s health instead of a worry about what Sam would do to other peoples’ health. The lack of trust stung, truly.

“We’ll be there in half an hour, Sammy. Get your clothes back on and say thank you for having you,” her mom warned, tone sharp and clipped.

And then hung up the phone before anyone could argue, because while she never used to listen to Sam before, she did somehow still know her. Ah well.

Sam sighed, stuffing the phone back into her borrowed pocket.

“Guess my parole has ended. I’ve gotta get back for my next semester anyway, but you have my number?” She asked Steph, looking from her back to Cass.

Both women nodded enthusiastically, Steph sighing and slumping forward into the table.

“Do you really have to go? Harley probably won’t be done with Brucie by then, you’ll miss the best part!”

But in all honesty, Sam wasn’t too upset about that. She’d made her feelings perfectly clear via thermos, and if Jason wasn’t satisfied with Bruce’s real apology she could always come back.

So she shrugged, grinning.

“Guess it’s my turn to get the video recap once it’s all over. You guys’ll film it for me, right?” She asked, looking from Danny to Tucker.

Both of whom gave her a thumbs up.

“We should make a new group chat,” Tucker mused eagerly, already pulling his phone up, “one for all of us.”

“Then we’d know which galas you were coming to!” Steph agreed at once, her own phone magically appearing in hand.

Dick snickered, leaning back in his seat.

“Said like Steph’s ever let Bruce drag her to one against her will,” he teased and Steph flipped him off.

“Hey, if you’d had the good sense not to let him adopt you you wouldn’t have to do them either,” Steph told him primly. Dick rolled his eyes.

“I’m his ward, not adopted,” he argued mostly futilely, and Sam snickered.

“And still have to go apparently. Doesn’t the ward thing end once you’re a legal adult?” She asked innocently.

Dick gave her a deadpan stare.

“Ma’am, if you want to try and wrest an orphan from the hands of Bruce Wayne you be my fucking guest, I gave up years ago.”

Which, fair. Their rifts had been legendary enough to make the circuit. She toasted him with her phone and settled back.

“Point taken. If being a cop didn’t make him give you up nothing will,” she added slyly, and Dick mimed grievous injury, slumping forward onto the table as the others laughed.

Grinning her triumph, Sam turned back to Alfred.

“So if you just show me where the laundry room is I can grab my clothes?” She offered, trying yet again to be helpful.

Being from a rich family didn’t mean having no damn manners, no matter how often it looked like it.

The old man gave her another of his extremely arch expressions, an eyebrow rising as if to question her impertinence. He had to be fucking with her.

“I shall bring your clothes to the downstairs bathroom on this hall when they are done so that you may change, Miss Manson,” he said coolly.

She’d never heard anything like it.

It didn’t sound like he was upset or offended the way people usually did when their voices iced over that sharply. Just… not an ounce of wiggle room.

Not a sliver of a hint that anything he was saying would not happen exactly as he’d decreed it. He sounded more imperious than a king, and she’d seen those.

Sam kinda imagined that’d be what Clockwork would sound like if she ever met the guy.

Duke misinterpreted her decidedly impressed stare with a wry chuckle, apparently misinterpreting her expression.

Fair, since he couldn’t know she was comparing him to the living manifestation of Time.

Well. Ghostly manifestation. Same difference.

“Miss Manson’s probably the best you’ll get out of him,” Duke said almost apologetically, grinning. “It’s gonna be that or Miss Samantha.”

Which admittedly was enough to make her turn to face him, curiosity peaked.

“What do you mean?” She asked, glancing back up at Alfred.

She couldn’t read anything but serenity in his face, but mild amusement practically radiated off him. She’d have to ask Danny what he saw in his aura.

Dick took this one too, sitting back in his seat and grinning at her.

“Alfie’s serious about the whole “proper titles and full names” thing. I’ve been trying for almost twenty years to make him call me “Dick”, and I think he’d be slower to give that up than Bruce’d be to unadopt me,” he explained cheerfully, arm tossed over the back of his chair.

Alfred treated him to a slowly raised eyebrow too.

“As you say, Master Richard,” he agreed placidly and Sam pressed her lips together on a smile.

She didn’t have to turn around to know exactly what face Danny would be making. The last thing he needed was another scary old man full naming him.

And right on cue…

“Uh… can I specifically request Mister Fenton then?” Danny asked and sure enough when she turned, yup, he even had his hand in the air like a child.

Alfred treated him to that calm stare as well.

“May I ask why, Mister Daniel?” He asked, clearly prodding despite every line of both face and posture oozing nothing but polite respect.

Danny fully flinched, which was interesting. He barely reacted whenever Vlad said his name.

Sam adjusted her opinion of Alfred along a couple “scarier than Vlad” levels.

“I have name-related trauma from another billionaire who refuses to call me anything but that,” Danny admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s a really not-fun association.”

“Vlad again?” Tim asked from across the table, sounding sympathetic.

Danny pulled a face at him, sort of grimacing more than a smile.

“Oh yeah. And let’s just say he also does it in super bad situations, so I’d be happier to just never hear it again.”

Sam peaked back over her shoulder at Alfred, wondering what he’d do with this news.

If Danny was gonna be a fixture in Jason’s life (and let’s be honest, he’d be a fixture in Jason’s bedroom by the end of the month), and Jason was a fixture in Alfred’s… they’d see more of each other.

Everyone knew Bruce had been basically raised by Alfred. If he was half as emotionally constipated…

But there was an actual human expression on the old man’s face now, and it looked a damn sight like shame. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

“My apologies, Mister Fenton. Would you perhaps prefer Mister Danny?” He asked, which would have seemed completely innocuous on its own.

Dick slammed both fists into the table, making half the table burst into giggles.

“Fucking SERIOUSLY?! Is it just me! This is bullshit Alfie!” He declared dramatically.

Tim looked equally gobsmacked, jaw on the proverbial floor as he stared at Alfred, and even Steph looked put out and impressed.

Danny, deeply confused but relieved, stuck his tongue out at Dick.

“Hey, if you want another overly possessive and creepy billionaire determined to control your life you’re welcome to take him off my hands,” he declared smugly, and Sam snorted a laugh.

There was a decided devilry in young Damian’s face too, which vanished almost immediately after it appeared as the youngest spoke up.

“Honestly, Richard, you must admit that Danny’s situation is decidedly more grave than your own,” he said simply, a strong undercurrent of smugness under the words.

Tim threw both hands into the air so hard he almost tipped his chair over.

“Him too?! Come the fuck ON!” He proclaimed to the world at large as Duke snorted half a glass of water out of his nose in a choked laugh.

Tim gave him a hearty slap on the back that was probably supposed to help, the younger boy still wheezing and gasping for air, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

There was clearly something of an inside joke going on, and it wasn’t exactly a complicated one.

Danny had already settled back in his seat, perfectly happy with the consternation he’d caused, and Sam joined him.

Watching the dramatics of the extended Wayne clan was even better at home than it had been at the gala. For a show this good, she’d have bought tickets.

**

As she closed the office door behind her, Harley took a moment to give Bruce another, slower once over.

It had been a while since she saw him last, and between what Selina had told her and what the kids told her, she wanted a read on his headspace.

He looked… well, like he had a stick up his ass a mile high, but that was pretty much default for him when he wasn’t being Brucie. Never learned how to take a breath, that guy.

But from the way he moved straight to his desk, not even pausing to see if she shut the door before dropping into his seat, she’d put money on “tired”.

Not just regular nightlife tired either, if he showed it this easily. Freshly shaved, dressed immaculately, face done up with minimal but flattering makeup.

He’d put himself together pretty today, but something was cracking underneath.

Once she was satisfied she’d gotten the big picture, she sauntered after him and hopped up to sit on his desk, foot pressed firmly to the middle of his chest to go for the details.

“So, Brucie, do ya know why I’m here?” She asked expectantly. It’d tell her a lot about where they were starting from; it was hard to fool the big bat, and none of ‘em had been trying.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her foot, but wisely didn’t move to touch it. Clever boy. He might win a physical fight if they got serious, but he also knew she was damn good at what she did.

If they threw down, she wouldn’t be helping him untwist that mess in his head. And he wouldn’t be walking away unscathed either.

No good with some fresh heroes who weren’t in on the Secret around. She could assume he’d made the calculations, but none of them showed. And wouldn’t it be nice if he hadn’t needed to?

Instead he sighed, leaning further back in his chair and rubbing both hands down his face.

Harley adjusted her estimate from “tired” to “fucking exhausted”. Not a good sign.

“I hope it has something to do with Selina texting you last night about the gala,” was all he said though, cryptic fuck.

Harley pushed with her toes just enough to make the chair roll back.

“Specifically, Brucie. If you can tell me what ya did wrong I’ll make it easier on you,” she teased, waving her bat playfully.

Like they didn’t both know the real damage would be with her words. Bruce preferred the bat though. In all ways, which, ha! She could still rock a killer joke.

He gave her one of his grouchy bat glares too, then slumped. Practically pre-broken. Something had to be up.

“I gave a speech. I… apologized to Jason for not being there when he…” he trailed off and Harley nodded, willing to accept that. Hard topics, and not one they’d discuss today.

Not that she wasn’t waiting with baited breath for Bruce to FINALLY decide he wanted to unload some o’ that trauma. But hey, baby steps.

He looked back up a second later, the mask gone as he met her eyes. He looked agonized.

For Bruce, anyway. Perfectly normal to anyone who didn’t really know how he ticked. But those lines around his eyes, the tension in his jaw?

Harley knew. From watching him when he’d thought he’d failed long ago, and from comforting him when one of the kids got hurt more recently.

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost, Harley. I’ve never seen him so shaken.”

Which Harley did have to bite back an entirely inappropriate laugh at. Jason looked preeeeetty happy to be canoodling with an actual ghost in the dining room right now.

She kept it on lock though. Totally professional.

Honestly, she was a little impressed Bruce had noticed. Jason was infamously his blind spot.

Humming softly she nodded slowly, fingers drumming along the shaft of the bat as she regarded him.

“And why do you think he did that, Bruce?” She prodded gently.

She was gonna have a check in with Jason later, not least for all the deets on his adorable new “friend”. Somewhere private, where the others couldn’t see.

But from what she’d seen tonight… Jason looked good. More relaxed, at ease with himself in a way that really tugged at her heart.

She hadn’t seen a lot of Jason since his return; she hadn’t stayed in Gotham long after breaking free of the Joker. But she’d come back when Selina called, and heard Waylon’s stories.

Of course he hadn’t come back as the happy, cheeky kid full of sunshine and magic. Even if he’d survived the warehouse he’d have changed.

The kid who’d cried at the thought of letting Bruce down so hard she’d foiled Joker’s plans herself so it wouldn’t happen… had been let down even more.

Even from a distance she’d read it in every inch of him; festering rage, pain, moving more like the big Bat than ever. Like his body was just a weapon he was barely connected to.

Like nothing else mattered but his mission, and he’d run on broken legs without even noticing. Like he didn’t think there was anything about him worth protecting.

(It may have factored into one of her own visits back to Arkham, even if Mister J had left her alone.)

The poor guy had been so full of anger ever since he came back, and for all that she’d been Joker’s when he died he’d never blamed her.

If anyone else on Earth knew what it was like to have your life torn to the ground by that bastard, to have nothing left even after you crawled away, it was Jason.

Harley wouldn’t have blamed him for hating her just as much as the clown himself, but he hadn’t. Not even full dark side. Not even that first time, Tim’s blood still on his suit.

He’d tensed to fight, admitted he’d heard about the big split, and believed her when she swore it was true. Even accepted her number, though he hadn’t called for almost a year.

They weren’t close, not like she was with the baby bats these days, but Harley worried about him.

There was something broken in Jason that still hadn’t healed, that he kept gashing himself on its sharp edges. Something that might finally be scabbing over.

So yeah, this was 1000% not the fucking time for Bruce to be all up in his bullshit.

At least he seemed to know that too, shaking his head and slumping forward against her foot so he could rest his head in his hands.

“I… I don’t know. I thought I could show him how sincere I was. Have witnesses who’d hold me to it. Not force him to be alone with me when it’s clearly not what he wants,” he admitted bitterly, shoulders slumping.

Harley let out another low hum, tracking every inch of his posture with alert eyes.

Yeah, that was true. Fucking stupid, especially from a guy as sharp as Brucie, but true. And fully consistent with his character.

Then she sighed, pushing him back upright, foot rising up almost to his collar to make him look at her.

“Did ya think about asking Jason what he wanted?” She asked dryly, fully aware of what the answer would be.

Watched Bruce’s face pinch in annoyance. Probably at himself, which would be good. Sometimes the answer literally was that easy.

He still shook his head, even if he didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I thought…” he sighed again, running a hand through his hair, but didn’t try and hunch. “I didn’t think. I assumed he would see it the way I did.”

Which he’d clearly already noticed Jason hadn’t. Honestly, Harley was almost proud of the man. He wasn’t usually this emotionally aware.

No wonder he was exhausted. Lotta introspection, using all those brain muscles he abjectly refused to hone.

Harley nodded and crossed one leg over the other, switching out which foot kept Bruce pinned to his chair.

“It’s one helluva lot ta throw at someone in front of an audience, Brucie,” she agreed plainly, and watched with interest as that moment if irritation sharpened.

Almost pulled him back to bat face.

“You sound like Danny,” he grumbled, not actually arguing. Might have tried to cross his arms if her foot wasn’t in the way.

Harley wasn’t having any of it. She knew she’d liked the kid.

“Good, he’s got two braincells ta rub together. What’s more important: that people see you say you’re sorry, or how Jason feels?” She asked sharply, her patient tone evaporating.

To his credit, Bruce didn’t hesitate.

“Jason.” This, there was no question of. Good.

“And who knows best how Jason feels?” She pushed on, eyes narrowing when he hesitated.

“Don’t make me use the bat, Brucie,” she warned him, and Bruce sighed again, shaking his head.

“I know what you want me to say, Harley. But Jason… his emotions are unpredictable. Out of control. I doubt even he knows what they are half the time.”

Which, frankly, they weren’t going to get into at the moment, if ever. Jason’s emotional state was Jason’s business.

Harley fixed Bruce with an unimpressed stare, raising an eyebrow.

“Good thing I didn’t ask anyone to control it, huh? But who. Knows. How Jason feels.” It was barely a question anymore, the tapping of her bat against the desk more an empty threat.

She wasn’t against percussive maintenance, especially where Brucie was concerned; he responded better to violence than words half the time.

Kinda like he needed the stubbornness actually knocked out of him before he could listen. It was why she wouldn’t recommend him to any ol’ civilian friends still in the biz.

Not that they’d have appreciated her recommendation.

He stared her down for a moment, defiant even with the bat to hand. Harley let the other brow rise slowly and crossed her arms, leaning forward to lean on her knee.

Bruce could outstare a cat, but he couldn’t impress or intimidate her and he knew it.

He said nothing, still staring her down, and she could see where his brain had turned off and the stubbornness kicked in.

Fine. She’d played this game before, and she knew what he expected to come next.

Sometimes she even let him have it, a little rough and tumble so he could wrestle himself out of his head by wrestling her. But today, there were way more interesting things for her to do with her time.

Nothing short circuited a pattern of habit like the wrong response. Or a response that pulled up an older pattern.

Still staring him dead in the eye, she stuck her finger in her mouth, licked it wet, then leaned forward to shove it in his ear.

Bruce jerked back, hands almost rising defensively even as he made a disgusted face.

“Harley! Stop!” He protested, already losing a little of that stoic wall, and Harley grinned. It’d worked since they were Jason’s age in college and probably always would.

In his bat-suit, Bruce could take any torture, any indignity and never break. Without that cowl though, he was the same dweeb who’d joined the cheerleading squad with her because Harvey pouted.

It was really a very good thing she’d been on her way out of the rogue business before she cracked his identity, but since he’d always known hers he probably had plans against her.

He didn’t use them though, and she appreciated that, even as she licked her other finger fast and stuck it in his other ear.

“Say it, Brucie, or I’ll lick every pen in this office,” she threatened, watched a smile almost crack. And watched him sag, one of her wrists in each hand, his expression sobering.

Not closing off again though. Now his exhaustion was plain to see, along with the lingering sorrow and regret.

Looked like that little tussle would be enough for today. Probably.

“Jason knows what he’s feeling best. I am sorry, Harley. I never meant to hurt him,” he confessed almost in a whisper, and Harley let her own dramatics subside too.

It wasn’t what he needed anymore.

Hooking her foot in under the arm of the chair, she pulled him back in towards her.

“I know, kid. An’ lucky for you, Jason’s got a lotta people in his corner, and he’s a resilient boy. He’s gonna be alright.” His relationship with Bruce could only get so much worse, honestly.

No matter how the two disasters kept rubbing each other wrong, there was still love there. That was what had hurt Jason so much in the first place.

If he hadn’t loved Bruce, he wouldn’t care what the man thought of him. If he hadn’t thought Bruce loved him once, he wouldn’t care that the Joker lived.

Maybe one day she’d knock their heads together and make them talk it out.

Today, Bruce gave her a helpless look.

“I don’t even know how I hurt him, Harley. I should have asked, I know I put him on the spot, but I never thought… how can I stop if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong?”

Harley sighed softly, straightening back up and tugging her hands back easily, propping them on the desk behind her.

It was a tough one, not because the answer was hard, but because it’d be hard for Bruce. But he might finally be ready to hear it, if he’d done this much of the work without her.

“You know what I’m gonna tell you,” she prodded gently and didn’t push back when he pulled the chair in enough to brace his elbows on the desk on either side of her hips and bury his face in his hands.

Muffled the hell outta his voice, but she could still make out the words.

“Talk to him.” Which, yeah, she had a chuckle at the irony, petting mussed black hair.

“Yeah, yeah, the Bat’s one weakness, clear communication. But you don’t know Jason as well as ya think ya do, Brucie. He’s not the kid you brought home.”

He pushed up at that, frown on his face and mouth open to argue, and she placed a finger across it to shush him.

“I know ya think you know that. But he’s really, really not. And thinking ya still know him the same way is how you keep hurting each other.” She gentled her voice, kept it soft, but he still slumped like she’d punched him.

She went back to petting his hair. He preferred punching.

“Stop trying to surprise him. Ask what he wants. And if you can’t tell him how you feel…” she paused for a moment, let Bruce huff out the beginnings of a grumble, and chuckled softly.

No surprise there.

“Then try writing it down. Write him a letter, and keep it to yourself until you know what you want to say. As many as it takes, and toss ‘em right in the fire. And if ya still can’t say it aloud, hide one in yer underwear drawer or somewhere personal.”

That prompted him to look up again and Harley cocked a brow, grinning.

“What better way ta make one of your nosey lot read it?” She asked, grin settling to a smirk when Bruce’s lower lip slid out in a pout.

Not that fake pretty boy play one he did for cameras, the real Bruce Wayne Does Not Like You’re Right.

Catching it between forefinger and thumb she gave it a gentle tug.

“Seriously though. Try it. It’s easier than tryin’ ta improvise. And always, especially double important if yer gonna be in public, talk ta Jason first. No more surprises, or how’s ‘e gonna trust you?”

He knocked her hand away, but his eyes did that far off thing they always did when he was calculating, so she assumed he was taking it on board.

Finally he nodded, glanced at the clock, and frowned. Rigid mask falling back into place, her old classmate disappearing again.

“I’m afraid I have a meeting, Harley. Cape business. Was that all?” He did actually sound kinda sorry, so Harley forgave him for switching himself off before they finished.

“Fine. But I’m stickin’ around fer a bit, so we’ll talk about the apology thing later,” she warned, giving his chest another sharp poke and then trying to neaten the mess she’d made of his hair with her fingers.

Gave it up as a bad job.

“An’ put the cowl on, ya look like a drowned bat.”

He raised a pointed eyebrow at her, the gesture saying more clearly than words whose fault that was, and let her push him back far enough to stand.

“Thanks, Harley. I probably won’t be back tonight,” he told her, voice already lowering into that bat growl Selina went crazy for.

Hopping off the desk, Harley waved him away and bent to scoop her bat off the floor.

“Yeah, yeah. I gotta check on Waylon tomorrow anyway, but I’ll drop by when I have a minute.” She paused at the door and grinned over her shoulder at him. “The little one didn’t even try an’ stab me today.”

Bruce gave her a tight smile back, already at the clock. Ready for his Grand Descent. Dramatic bitch.

“High praise, from Damian,” he acknowledged, and Harley laughed, heading back out into the manor.

Maybe she’d join the kids for dessert.

**

Bruce had to admit he felt lighter as the door closed behind Harley.

She hadn’t told him anything he didn’t know, not really, but just. Knowing she was here. That she knew why Jason was upset, and would help him fix it.

He was always grateful that she’d been one of the rogues who turned… well, not exactly straight, he kept up with her exploits in Coney Island, but good.

She cared about people, and protected what she considered hers fiercely. Luckily for him, that included his brood.

And. Maybe. Just maybe.

Danny might have had a point.

Perhaps Harley could help him work out why it was easier to tell Jason he was sorry to a room full of people than it was at his son’s hospital bed after a bad patrol.

He changed in the elevator on the way to the cave, the spare suit from his office easy and familiar to put on.

A good thing too, since just as he arrived and settled in front of the Batcomputer to pull up anything he thought he might need (and telling himself it definitely wasn’t evidence against a colleague), the zeta tube activated.

::B069 - John Constantine::

Tonight was finally going to be his night.

**

A hundred feet up in the dining room, Danny Fenton stiffened abruptly mid conversation, senses prickling as someone new crossed his aura.

Well. Someone different. There was no mistaking that potent, crackling cloud of mixed wards and magic. It had been a while since they’d been to Amity Park, but it certainly wasn’t someone new.

A slow, thoughtful smile spread across his lips and he settled back in his chair, ignoring the surprised looks from his companions as he considered this development.

It certainly answered his earlier question.

A hand rose slowly to cup his chin, fingers drumming along his jawline as a slow chuckle slipped free.

Tonight might just be more interesting than the gala after all.

“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”

———————

Next:

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[skalidra]

Fic Writers Showcase Game

@there-must-be-a-lock tagged me!

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

~~

First fic published on Ao3: That would be The Other Side of the Mirror, an Earth-3 continuity mess with a JayDick main pair, featuring Roy as a 3rd PoV. First chapter was posted in September, 2014, currently 200k, 20 chapters , and as of yet unfinished, though I think as it stands it ends on a decently hopeful note. I do still recall the main plot points of where it goes, and would like to finish it someday.

Last fic published: I posted the first chapter of Five Finger Discount just yesterday, which is the 5th piece in my Worth Counting series, an alpha!Slade/alpha!Jason series exploring a variety of kinks but with a focus on non-formal dom/sub vibes, competence/strength kink, and mostly-play fighting. (The last finished story was Shifting Into Fourth which is the 4th piece of that same series, so, I'm a little bit on a theme here.)

Fandom/ship I only wrote once: I uh. I wrote Hamilton/Jefferson/Madison room-where-it-happens porn. For the Hamilton musical. It's called Do Whatever It Takes and I think it is still the thing that makes me feel the most sinfully dirty of all the things I've ever written. So there's that.

I also have Let's Be Clear, which is my only fic set anywhere in the MCU, and is a Daredevil oneshot of an asexual!Wesley being invited to join a Fisk/Vanessa relationship, as I vibed real hard with Wesley as a character and never really got over his unfortunate demise.

(Honorable mention to my four stories that are technically fandoms of their own, but all fall under the 'DCU' umbrella, being for the Arkham games, two shows in the CW Arrowverse, and the Teen Titans cartoon.)

Favorite fic in most popular fandom/ship: This is a little hard to quantify. Technically 'DCU (Comics)' comes in at 93k in stories, which would make JayDick the most popular pairing, which makes my favorite story Captain's Privileges. It's a Star Trek mirror!verse fusion with Captain!Dick and Engineer!Jason and so many unhealthy relationships everywhere, and I love it.

However! 'DCU (Comics)' is a very broad umbrella and it's not really fair to say it's my biggest fandom, since the slice I belong to is much smaller. Which means the more accurate winner is Voltron, at 85k stories. I technically have a Klance story but given that it is a big poly clusterfuck dark!fic I really have to actually give this to the second most popular pairing by stat, Sheith. Out of those, I think my favorite is I'm Not That Man, which was an early false-memories/brainwashed!Shiro fic set just before the wormhole split them all up.

Fic I wish more people read: An Extra Shot, hands down. Come read my gen, Wilson-family-focused exploration of what happens if Adeline dies during the attack on Joey! Come read Slade Wilson being forced into confronting the fact that he is a terrible dad and also now a widowed dad of three kids! Come read Billy trying his best to bludgeon all the terrible communicators of this family into actually working things out! READ THIS. THERE'S A SEQUEL IN PROGRESS. IT'S GOOD I SWEAR.

Fic that was hardest to write: I think the award for this has to go to Me, Not Her, a CaptainPan/CaptainSwan piece which I was apparently so frustrated with at some point that I straight up deleted the file. Four years later (no I am not kidding) I had the vague memory of it. Some sketchy thing I could maybe expand, now that I was having thoughts about OUaT again. I pull it out of the (then eternal) trash of Google Drive. It is five thousand words long and needs no more than pretty basic editing and a little padding at the end to round it off. I don't know what the hell was happening with me when I deleted it, but wow, lesson learned.

Fic that popped out fully-formed: I don't recall any that were explicitly like this, but I also don't tend to write like, neat little packaged stories all that often. If I'm writing oneshots they're usually for events. So my best answer to this is probably Fucking Androids? It's a Reed900 relationship origin story that blazed its way out of me during NaNoWriMo one year, named entirely for the sex pun and then in the end absolutely refusing to have any sex in it, so it won that fight. I remember at least most of it coming really, really easy.

Fic I'm proud of: Pulling out a weird little one, here. I'm going to say Take a Ride. It's a JayDick, Gotham City Garage story that I wrote for Firefright's birthday one year, and on reread I actually still really, really like it? It's just a neat apocalyptic-desert vibe relationship building thing, set in the criminally under-explored and rushed GCG world, and I really like how I put Dick together in this one. I recommend it.

~~

Not tagging anyone specific, but if anyone would like to do this as well, feel free!

[ailithnight]

Hope you don't mind me adding to this.

.

Red Hood is the first to come around.

Not terribly surprising. He at least had a helmet to absorb some of the hit.

Still, getting knocked out by a metal bat when he already had a mild concussion does not make for a pleasant morning. The various other bruises where the bat hit before finding his head do not help.

All in all, Jason finds himself returning to consciousness with a pained groan. Blinking open bleary eyes to squint a glare at the familiar bland ceiling of medbay in the cave. At least someone was merciful enough to turn the lights down. Just the thought of having to deal with bright ass flourescents with the current state of his head draws another pained groan past Jason's lips.

Someone to his side stifles a snicker so Jason sits up and turns his glare on a gleeful looking Red Robin.

"The fuck you giggling about, Replacement?"

Tim stifles another laugh but doesn't bother trying to hide his mirth as he stage whispers, "You both got taken out by a TWINK."

At the same time Jason wonders "Both?" another pained groaned brings his attention to the other side of the room where Nightwing half sits up before letting out another groan and dramatically collapsing back onto the cot that had been brought in to supplement medbay's lone bed, slinging his arm across his face.

"What kind of twink swings a bat like a bear?" Dick mumbles around his elbow.

"Apparently, the kind in my film class." Tim doesn't even bother to stage whispers now that both patients are awake.

"The fuck you on about? And why are you so God damn happy? In case you hadn't realized, someone was in my fucking apartment and knocked out both me and Nightwing!" Jason is admittedly confused.

Some jackass with a pipe managed to get a lucky hit in at the end of patrol, forcing Hood to stumble back to his safe house with a mild concussion where he had expected to find Dickwing working on the case they were supposed to go over.

Instead, there's some scrawny fucker walking out of the kitchen with a glass of water. Apparent twink shrieks in pitches only dogs should hear which makes Jason's head pulse and the room spin out of focus. Next thing he knows there's a silver bat raining bloody violence on his already battered body. 3, 4, 5 hits in and the bat makes contact with the top of his head and it's lights out for Red Hood.

So why is Replacement acting so jovial? Why does Dickiebird sound frustrated instead of worried? Mild concussion or no, anyone who can break into Red Hood's safe house and beat him unconscious with bat is not a threat to be taken lightly. Green starts to tint Jason's vision at his so called family's apparent lack of concern.

Tim gives Jason an incredulous look that only makes the pit boil hotter. It's Dick's next sentence that manages to freeze the rage.

"Wasn't your apartment, Little Wing."

"What."

Dick finally sits up with a shrug. "Wasn't your apartment. I was in your apartment with the case. Then I heard a commotion from your neighbor next door. He was pretty panicked about having beaten Red Hood with something he called 'The Creep Stick'."

Jason stares at Dick like he'd grown a third head, mind trying to work overtime despite the concussion still making thoughts hurt. "Who the fuck was next door?"

Tim decides this is a safe moment to pipe back in with somewhat more restrained glee. "That would be Danny. Daniel Nightengale. One of my classmates and friend who fortunately decided to call me about the 2 vigilantes that he knocked out when they broke into his apartment."

Jason narrows his eyes at Tim as he finally speaks the sentence that knocks the damnable giddiness out of the room.

"I own both apartments on either side of me so that no one hears Red Hood through those thin ass walls. There shouldn't be a Danny Nightengale living next door to me."

.

Dun dun duuuuunnnnnn.

this is a sequel to this.

The hoodlums and nightlings: @skulld3mort-1fan, @satanicrutialspecialist, @terzatheunderscorerima, @autumnwulf, @jaggedheart11, @froartuck,

Danny is panicking.

Keep reading

[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 4/?: Explanations

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

What is behind this door?

Hunter tapped his foot, examining the door. He’d been able to pinpoint which door led to the mysterious section of house, but now he had to wonder if the room was trapped. He didn’t see any of those glyphs on the door, but who knew what was on the other side.

What are you hiding, Wittebane?

Hunter reached for the doorknob.

“Hey, Hunter!”

Hunter jumped, yanking his hand back from the door as if he’d been burned. He whirled around to face the original. “What are you doing here?!” he demanded.

A soft chuckle. “I was looking for you, actually.”

Suspicion flared in Hunter’s mind. Convenient, that he wanted to check in just as Hunter had been about to open the mysterious door. “Why?”

He rubbed the back of his head, sheepish. “I haven’t really been able to check in on you much. I’ve been so focused on keeping an eye on the current golden guard that I haven’t really paid any attention to you. I’m sorry. How are you settling in?”

“Fairly well, thank you. Mrs. Wittebane and Jason have been looking after me.”

A faint smile crossed the original’s face. “Oh, good. He hasn’t been… too much?”

“Too much?”

“He gets excited. Some of his brothers get overwhelmed. I thought he’d be a good match for you, though. And maybe a little bit the other way around.”

“Because I’ve mentored before?”

“Yes.”

Hunter didn’t know how to feel about that. Did you send Jason so that I’d forget about Darius? As a replacement? He eyed the original. He’s smart enough to stay out of uncle’s reach, uncle doesn’t even know he or any of us are alive. Clever and gutsy enough to rescue all of us. It was easy to forget all that with how goofy and innocuous he seemed most of the time, but this human was a match for Belos brainwise, and apparently had a better understanding of people than Hunter had originally given him credit for.

A little too much like Uncle.

The original grinned at him. “Uh-oh, are we reassessing my threat level?”

“I—uh—” Hunter sputtered, mind whirling. Then there was that tendency to just say whatever popped into his head, instead of filing away spotted information for secret use. Why would he say that?! Just to knock Hunter off his guard, to prove that Hunter couldn’t hide anything from him?!

“Hey—” the original reached out, as if to take his arm, then faltered. “—Uh, sorry—look. Deep breath. Focus on the moment. Sorry, didn’t mean to set off the overthinking. You’re definitely not the first child soldier I’ve taken in, Hunter. You’re all unique, and have your own personalities, but… a lot of you share habits.” His nose wrinkled. “If I tried to list every time I’ve gotten that exact appraising look as you guys decided I was more dangerous than I look, we’d be here all day. What’s on your mind?”

Hunter took a deep breath. Follow his lead. He’s candid with you, reciprocate. This isn’t the coven, there are different rules and expectations here. “You wanted Jason to replace Darius?”

Wittebane’s face crumpled. “Oh. Well, I—no, that’s not… not how I intended that.” He gave Hunter a small, sad smile. “I think I know better than anyone that loved ones can’t be replaced, no matter how hard you try. There’s always going to be that little gap they left behind. I just thought… it might be more familiar to you, I suppose? I don’t know what your kid was like, but I just thought it would be better for you than a bunch more adults. Something to focus on so you didn’t lose yourself.”

Hunter shook his head with a small smile. “Darius wasn’t much like Jason. He was… he liked to take the easy way out, to find the quickest way to do what was required of him. He was bright, very clever, very good at what he did, and sometimes that made him a bit of a slacker. He like to have fun, to do the things he wanted, you know? But when he saw something he wanted, he buckled down and he got it. I liked that about him, if he cared about something, he defended it passionately, no matter how silly someone else might think it was, like his clothes. Or his friends.”

“Yeah?”

Hunter shook his head again. This felt… easy to talk about. Comfortable. “The only major disagreement we ever had, over his friends. Alador and Odalia. I…” suddenly, the meaning behind everything that had happened swept up to him in a rush, and he blinked. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, I—” Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That was a. That was a Belos thing, I…” he looked up at Wittebane. “I tried to separate them,” he said in a low voice, “I thought they would be bad for his chances of success if he was attached, and… it was a bit of a sore point between us, I dropped it when I realized how much he cared about them, but… titan, I wish I could apologize, that was… that was just Belos talking, wasn’t it?”

The original took in a deep breath. “I would say it’s… a product of your upbringing. Yes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s… easy… to blame my brother for every wrongdoing. And, in fact, he is the reasoning behind most things the people in this house did that they regret. Phillip tricked, manipulated, and forced us into a lot of the bad things that we did, and that's on him. But there are some things that… we did on our own. And that's where… you have to acknowledge and take responsibility for your own actions. No one told Melgear, Venari, Horus, and Hamlet to torture that scout, did they?”

“No.”

“No. I understand where they come from, of course, but… that was their action, and it was wrong. Yes, these things happen with his upbringing to blame, but I don’t think my brother told you to try and break Darius from his friends, did he?”

Hunter heaved a sigh. “No,” he admitted, “I… it really was me, huh? I mean, I WAS spouting off what I’d been taught, how I joined the coven, but… ugh.”

The original shrugged. “You’re sorry for it. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

“Not if I can’t ever tell him.”

A head shake. “What if he never forgave you?”

“What?”

“What if he never forgave you?” Wittebane repeated, “What if you could apologize to him, and he said ‘okay. I don’t forgive you?’ Would you keep feeling bad about it, if you did everything you could to make up for it, and he didn’t forgive you?”

“I—” Hunter stuttered, “I ca—I don’t—”

Wittebane shrugged. “No one is obligated to forgive you. It’s more important that you’re truly sorry for you past actions and try to be a better person than it is to be forgiven. If you define yourself by someone else’s attitude towards you, well… that’s how we ended up here, huh? Defining ourselves by Phillip’s wants and desires and feelings towards us? Not that that’s your fault, but… it is something that everyone here struggled or still struggles with. What my brother did will affect all of us through life, but it doesn’t have to be the only thing about us. You can’t erase the past, and you shouldn’t forget it, but you can try to make something new out of it.”

“The others… they chose their own name to find their own definition of themselves,” Hunter said slowly. Jason had said something along those lines, of course, but it just now sank in.

“Sure. It’s not a necessary step, and even when they DO choose their own name, it doesn’t flip some magical switch. But yes, that’s why they change it.” He sucked in a deep breath, dusting off his hands. “Whoof. Bit of a heavy conversation, huh?”

Hunter felt a tiny smile approach his face. “A bit.”

“How about some tea? Or—”

“That’s alright. Thank you, though. You should… probably check in on the current golden guard again?”

“Yeah, I suppose I should. Let me know if you need anything?”

“Yessir.”

Wittebane gave the mysterious door a long look, then shrugged, and moved back towards his oracle room. Hunter examined the door again.

What could be so bad that someone so open and honest would hide it?

He heard a scuffle behind him, and he whirled around to see a Grimwalker with huge glasses, a bun, and a scar over his right eye sneaking out of a different room, dashing down the hallway.

“What is he…”

Hunter was about to call after the original, but then stopped. If this Grimwalker was hiding from Wittebane, then maybe they knew some information that Wittebane wasn’t willing to share.

What’s going on around here?

Hunter opened the door the Grimwalker had snuck out of, then almost immediately started backing away.

There was a stone statue of a golden guard in there. Hunter could recognize the signs on the stone—a petrification.

Did the other Grimwalker…?

Did the original?!

How?!

Broken stone flowers and living flowers in varying states of decay littered the floor around the statue told the story that this wasn’t a rescue—someone had done this to him while he was here.

I have to get out of here.

It’s not safe—do Jason and Mole know?! Or are they next?

He backed right into another person, and he whirled around to see the bespectacled Grimwalker again.

“See something you didn’t like?” the Grimwalker asked.

Knock him out, or play it cool? Would that raise an alarm? Is he rogue, like Horus and the others, or is this part of Wittebane’s plan?

“I—you—”

Too late to play it cool.

“Sam, you’re sounding threatening again,” a voice said cheerfully at his right shoulder.

“You could ask ‘are you okay? You look kinda freaked out’ like a normal person, you know,” another voice agreed at his left.

Hunter’s head whipped back and forth to see two more grimwalkers. Pinned.

“I am not,” the glasses grimwalker—Sam—protested, his voice getting higher pitched.

The grimwalker on the right—who didn’t have any arms, and COULDN’T grab Hunter, even if he’d wanted to, Hunter realized—grinned, lowering his voice to a sinister tone. “See something you didn’t like?” he whispered creepily.

“Locke! I do not sound like that!”

“I thought it was an excellent impression,” the Grimwalker on the left piped up. This one had a scar across their forehead.

“Thank you, Lake.”

“Plus, your lab is kinda creepy when you’re not in it scurrying around like your head’s on fire.” Lake nudged Hunter. “That’s what freaked you out, right?”

Sam pushed his glasses up. “Well, fine, then, I will explain the lab.” He grabbed Hunter’s arm, tugging him back into the room and turning on the lights before Hunter could quite react. He let Hunter go, and gestured with a lot of waving at the stone statue. “Behold! Petrified Hunter, or Petro for short!”

“Can you please just call him Peter?” Lake chuckled.

“I’m begging you,” Locke agreed.

“No. Anyway, this is… our biggest problem, at the moment.” Sam walked around the statue, shaking his head. “Belos petrified him, and I’m… well, I’m trying to figure out how to undo it.”

Hunter shook his head, his muscles starting to relax. So there really wasn’t anything sinister going on. Not here, at least. “Petrifications are permanent.”

“Sure, that’s what you think, but! Hey, we should all be dead, but we’re not, right? Anything’s possible.” Sam picked up one of the stone flowers. “I discovered the petrification glyph mostly on accident, but—”

“Wait, it’s a glyph?!”

“Yes, I—hang on a moment, how much do you know about the glyphs?”

Hunter shook his head. “Not a lot. Horus showed me a few.”

Lake and Locke both plopped down on the ground. Lake patted the ground next to them. “It’s gonna be a long explanation, make yourself comfy.”

Hunter slowly sat down next to them. “How many times have you heard it?”

“A lot,” they chorused.

“And yet, you continue to return every time a new Grimwalker appears for me to explain it,” Sam responded.

“You explain it different every time,” Locke piped up, “What if we miss something new?”

Sam shook his head. “Alright, so there are the main glyphs, of course, but you can combine them in specific ways to do something new. If you’d like later, I can show you some, or maybe these two clowns can, since they’ve listened to me explain this about a billion times apparently.”

“I can’t,” Locke said serenely.

“Liar, I have seen you put a pen in your mouth and write with better handwriting than some of your brothers. Anyway, point being, long story short, for the purposes of further explanation of this lab, one of these combos is how good ol’ Uncle Bels petrified and is still petrifying people! Hooray. Anyway, I’m trying to figure out the anti-glyph, a glyph that will do the opposite.” He gestured to the half dead and stone flowers around him with the flower in his hand. “As you can tell, it’s going marvelously.” He gathered up the stone flowers, laying them at the feet of the statue like a bouquet on the grave.

“Why were you acting all suspicious earlier?”

“Oh, that’s just how he acts all the time,” Lake commented, “Like we said, Sam has a problem with looking and sounding threatening and fishy all the time.”

Locke nodded. “Pretty much all of us have always been in high golden guard trouble alert around him until we got used to it.”

“I’m used to sneaking around,” Sam said matter-of-factly, “I studied wild magic LONG before I came here, and it wasn’t exactly a supported subject. I was quite good at it, too, before our dearest Uncle Belmont figured out I wasn’t always using my staff and broke my neck for it.”

Hunter’s hand went up to his own neck. So maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference if I’d known about the glyphs sooner.

Sam waved his hands. “But hey, I got better! And now I’m doing this, and I can study wild magic to my heart’s content, provided I do all of the experimenting myself. Wow, it’s a mess in here.” He scooped up the dead flowers and tossed them onto a glyph that he activated to incinerate them. “Any questions about my apparently ever-so-creepy lab?”

“Can’t you just… write the opposite glyphs in the same pattern? Or something?”

“Mmmm, that would be nice. Unfortunately, the glyphs don’t have a natural opposite, ice, fire, plant, light, no, there isn’t a clear choice there. Plus, the glyphs can get HUGE and complicated. In some cases, it’s easier to just do without them because of how long they take to draw. I’m sure I COULD make a glyph that would cook a meal for you, but to do so would take up as much time as simply cooking the meal myself. Petrification is one of the more complex glyphs, and I’m sure the glyph that undoes it will undoubtedly be just as complicated.” Sam threw his hands up in the air. “Or randomly simple! I don’t know. Which is why I’m testing it on these flowers before I irreversibly mess up our brother.”

“And we are so proud of you for your restraint,” Locke said seriously as Lake nodded.

“Okay, if you two are just going to tease me, then out.” Sam shooed the three of them out. “Go experiment with some glyphs. I hope you blow your faces off.”

“That’s very insensitive,” Locke said in a hurt voice, “Given how I lost my arms!”

“And given how I died,” Lake agreed.

“You got sealed in a well and left to starve or asphyxiate, and your arms were ripped off, neither of you exploded, now leave!” Sam shut the door.

“Rude,” Locke said amiably.

“Very,” Lake agreed. They turned to face Hunter. “Do you want us to teach you some glyph combos?”

Hunter rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on. “I think that’s enough long explanations for one day, thanks.”

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 23: Stealing the Batmobile (Alt Prompt Driving)

AO3

Prev

Marinette looks at her little brother with an amused expression before asking:

“He really stole the Batmobile?” 

“Yup. Claimed he was a better driver than me.” Dick says with a snort. Marinette winces. 

“To be fair, he’s probably right. You’re kind of an awful driver.” She says with an apologetic smile. Dick clutches his heart and sniffles loudly. 

“My own flesh and blood!” He cries dramatically. Damian scoffs. 

“Tt. She is on my side, Grayson. As she should be since she is <i>my<i> flesh and blood.” He says with a scowl. 

“The pain!” Dick cries, throwing himself off the couch and onto the ground. Jason just sighs and shakes his head, while Tim looks on tiredly. The five of them had decided to hang out at the manor together earlier, which had somehow shifted into telling stories about each other and funny things that had happened. Marinette loved hearing stories about her brothers from when they were younger. 

“Out of all of us, I am likely the most competent driver.” Damian says, glancing at Marinette before nodding once. “And I assume Marinette would be the second most competent.” He adds. Marinette’s face instantly turns red- she’d never driven before. Her little brother (who was two years younger) was already a great driver. And she…..was not. 

“Oh, uh, I’ve actually never driven before.” She admits. Damian frowns. 

“Wait, you’re almost fifteen and you’ve never driven before?” Jason asks, leaning forward. “Like, ever” 

“Well, no. You can’t get a license in France until you’re eighteen. So no one in their right mind is going to let a fourteen year old drive around the city.” She explains. She watches as a thoughtful look crosses Damian’s face before settling back into a neutral mask. 

“I require your assistance with something. Follow me.” He says, standing and walking out of the room. 

“Er, okay.” She says, furrowing her eyebrows. “We’ll be right back.” She reassures her other brothers. She walks quicker, trying to catch up with Damian who was practically running at this point. He glances at her and raises an eyebrow. 

“Did the others act as if they would follow?” He asks. She frowns, but shakes her head. “Excellent.” He says, opening one of the entrances to the Batcave. She follows him, but freezes as they walk in and she sees where he’s heading. 

“Damian, we’d get into so much trouble.” She says, planting her feet and freezing in place. 

“Not if we aren’t caught. Which we will be if we don’t leave soon.” He says, rushing into the changing room. She stays where she is, glancing down at Tikki peeking out of her purse. 

“Marinette, your father would not like this.” She warns. Marinette bites her lip. 

“I know, but Damian seemed so excited.” She counters, with a small smile. Tikki gives her an unimpressed look. Marinette watches as her little brother walks back out, dressed in his uniform. He nods at her once and then climbs into the driver’s side. She hesitates, weighing her options. She could go with and attempt to drive the Batmobile, or she could watch her little brother drive away and know that no one knew where he was. Crap. Pushing away every instinct telling her this is a horrible idea, she rushes after Damian and hops into the car, calling her transformation as she does. She grins at her brother, her Ladybird suit had started giving her more confidence than her Ladybug suit. It was odd, but she loved it. He immediately slams on the gas, driving out of the cave and into Gotham.

“Ukht, will you be driving as well?” He asks and she hesitates before nodding. It was the Batmobile, what could go wrong?

---

Okay apparently a lot could go wrong, she thinks, watching as the Batmobile slides into the Gotham river. 

“How the fuck did you guys manage that?” A voice asks. She whirls around, wincing when she sees Jason, as Red Hood. She can’t see his face but she can just imagine the look he’s giving them. 

“In my defense, we were left unsupervised.” She says. He scoffs. 

“You little shits left us!” He reminds her. 

“Ladybird had never had the chance to drive before. It made sense to make sure that she could drive and to train her in case she ever needs to utilize a vehicle on patrol.” Damian reasons. And yeah, the reasons are sound. But the Batmobile slowly sinking into the river kind of makes his reasons weak. Just a bit. 

“And driving into the river was, what, to see if she could drive a boat?” Jason asks, crossing his arms. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hood. That’s a car.” She says, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She regrets it, but only for a second because then she hears Damian snort. Score! Every time she was able to make her angriest brother laugh, she gave herself a point. She was so close to double digits.

“Well B’s gonna be ready to go on patrol in less than an hour. Either of you two geniuses have any ideas on how to get the car out of the river and back to the cave?” Jason asks, pulling Marinette from her silent celebration. 

“We could call a tow truck.” She suggests. 

“Tt. That is unwise. The Batmobile is not a regular car.” Damian argues and she huffs. 

“Okay well, last I checked you didn’t have any bright ideas either.” She quips, annoyed with him again. They were good at that. Laughing one minute, then annoying each other the next. She figured it just meant they were doing something right as siblings. 

“Ladybird might actually have a good idea, Robin. Unless you want to call Superman here and have him rat you out to B.” Jason says. A devious smirk stretches onto Damian’s face and Marinette suppresses a shudder. She was definitely glad the kid was on her side. Most of the time, anyway. 

“Excellent point, Hood.” He says, clearing his throat slightly before yelling. Well, not really yelling. Just talking slightly louder than normal. “Jon. I require your assistance.” A few moments later a boy flies down and lands in front of Damian. If she didn’t know any better, Marinette would assume the boy was another of her dad’s kids. Dark hair, blue eyes. But this kid had a huge smile stretched across his face. So maybe not. 

“Hey Robin! I haven’t seen you in ages!” The boy says cheerfully before waving at Red Hood. He turns to her and his smile falters slightly before it’s back full blast. He sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you! I’m Superboy.” He says. Marinette grins, shaking his hand back. 

“Ladybird, and likewise.” She says. 

“So what-” Jon (Superboy?) starts, glancing at the river, eyes widening at the car. “Did you steal the Batmobile again!?” He yelps, obviously shocked. And concerned. Which she understood. It’s not everyday you see the Batmobile slowly sinking into the Gotham river. 

“Er, temporarily misappropriated.” Marinette says, glaring at Jason who snorts at her response. 

“No, they definitely stole it. And Ladybird here decided she’d try to drive for the first time. What I’m not understanding is why you knuckleheads thought it’d be smart to drive so close to the river?” He says. 

“Obviously I wasn’t thinking clearly, Hood. Can we please just focus on getting the car out of the river before I’m murdered by Batman?” Marinette rambles, looking pleadingly at Jon. It was odd, begging a little kid to drag her superhero dad’s super car out of a river, but it had to be done. 

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Jon says, his earlier shock replaced with a wide smile once again. He flies over and grabs the car, gently pulling it up and placing it back on the road. Marinette winces at the water pouring out of the car. She was so grounded. 

---

Walking into the Batcave, Bruce frowns at the lack of Batmobile. He’d passed Tim and Dick on his way to the Cave, so he knew they didn’t have it. Which left his two most mischievous sons and the daughter they had so easily corrupted. Hopefully they were just getting fast food or something again. Hopefully nothing bad was happening. He winces. That was unlikely with his children. He rushes over to the computer, tracking the Batmobile and accessing the cameras near the car. The image in front of him makes him pinch the bridge of his nose and grit his teeth. 

“Just one day, one day is all I ask.” He mumbles under his breath. Because of course traffic cameras would catch Superboy lifting the Batmobile out of the river. Of course. He sits in his chair and watches as the kids argue for a few minutes before getting in the car and driving off. He tracks them all the way until they’re past cameras, and then he waits. Knowing it’ll only be moments until they’re in the Cave. He sits, silent as they get out of the car. 

“No, seriously, he’s gonna know.” Marinette is saying, obviously looking nervous. 

“Then beg Tikki to take all the water out or something. It’ll be fine, Pix.” Jason says. 

“She’s gonna be so mad at me though. She warned me that it was a bad idea.” Marinette says, and Bruce decides to speak up. 

“She was right.” He says, turning his chair to face them. 

“SHIT! Goddamn you Bruce, why the hell would you sneak up on us like that?” Jason huffs out, glaring at him. 

“Perhaps it’s the same reason that you three thought it was a good idea to steal the Batmobile.” Bruce says, crossing his arms. 

“Uh, fuck that. I wasn’t in on it. I went out to try and find the little shits when I realized they were gone.” Jason argues, crossing his arms too. 

“Ukht had never driven before. I believed it was a useful skill that she could utilize on future missions or patrols.” Damian says simply, his calm demeanor the complete opposite of Marinette’s current demeanor. She’s obviously panicked and anxious, avoiding looking at him. He feels his former resolve soften slightly. No one was hurt, they obviously felt bad. And Marinette obviously felt bad about it. But still….

“You’re benched for the night. Both of you.” He instructs. Damian grits his teeth but nods, while Marinette looks confused. 

“But I’m not even-” She starts to say, stopping as Jason throws a hand over her mouth. “Well, well, look at the time. I’ll take them upstairs and tuck ‘em in before patrol.” Jason says, rushing away with Marinette and leaving Damian behind. Damian turns to Bruce and frowns. 

“It did not go unnoticed by me, Father, that you benched the one child you do not allow to patrol. You may have done this in an attempt to not punish Marinette, but make no mistake she will remember this. And she will be on patrol later this week. After all, you only benched her for tonight.” Damian says, nodding at his father before walking away. Bruce sighs. He hadn’t thought this one through.

---

“What was that for?” Marinette asks, frowning at her brother as he drags her to the house. She drops her transformation as they walk, wincing slightly at the ‘we’ll talk later’ look from Tikki. Oh yeah, she was definitely getting lectured. 

“He just benched you for tonight, right?” Jason asks, a smirk on his face. Marinette huffs. 

“Yeah, but I’m not even technically allowed on patrols.” She reminds him. 

“Except now, you’re technically allowed to come tomorrow. He said you were ‘benched for the night’.” Jason points out. Marinette opens her mouth to argue, then closes it. She blinks before a wide smile stretches across her face. Was she really gonna get to go back on patrol on a technicality? Suddenly, she no longer regretted driving the Batmobile into the river.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Tues 8 June ‘21

Harry recorded a message that was played at the Stoneman Douglas High School graduation; SD is the school in Parkland Florida that in 2018 became the site of the deadliest school shooting in US history. Harry has consistently been a vocal supporter of the student activism to curb gun violence that followed the shooting (it was when he added the Stop Gun Violence stickers to his guitar and he spoke about it before when playing near there on HSLOT, for example, as well as signing on to things and donating money and talking about the bravery of the young women leading the effort in particular). “You are an incredibly strong group of people and I have no doubt that you’ll all do incredible things whatever you chose to do in the future, so good luck, love each other and be nice to each other and I hope at some point I’ll get to see you guys,” he said in the video.

A blurry blob in a blue hoodie in London last night was said to be him, out for a stroll, Don’t Worry Darling was announced to be set for release next year, and some fans literally chased Harry and Olivia down the street while filming them against their wishes (recently, not today, seems like she might be back in the US with Jason now that his filming is wrapped) and then people tried to blame their behavior on... larries?? UM did larries possess them and force them to literally chase a person asking to be left alone I DON’T BELIEVE SO, I am BEGGING you guys to quit listening to anything anyone on twitter says. My Policeman is filming in Hitchin, at a location reported by local media to be “shrouded in mystery”, but I’m pretty sure the hordes gathered to peep at filming have killed any aura of mystery at this point. They are working on location at a pool in Butts Close (YEAH I KNOW) and are apparently besieged with fans, some of whom managed to get more pictures of a blurry blob said to be Harry- this time in tiny yellow short shorts (2021/1950 version)!

Niall and Anne Marie’s Tonight Show performance aired! Anne Marie’s black and white cheetah print lined three piece outfit is amazing, like Niall is pushing the envelope a little with shapes and fits but her look takes center stage I’m afraid; anyway also they sound great and are cute, yes yes.

Liam has been in his discord lots, commenting on things and polling people. Current polls, yes no or wtf about NFTs, which landslide result (wtf) got him to say yeah okay I’ll make an explainer, and should we rename my fandom which resulted in a chat for people to make suggestions. About front runner Paynedora’s Box (Liam’s own amazing suggestion) he said “it came to me as I thought it meant every type of fan is a possibility, never know what you’re going to encounter.” Yes plus Pandora’s Box was full of demons! Apt indeed though Liam’s fans are sweeter than some, it’s true. He gives a little love to Champaynes too, which is good though given our boy’s struggle with alcohol addiction I’ll stick with my vote for the first one. He posted from an “impromptu night photoshoot” (about which his hair guy said “bringing the grit back, prepping for a very exciting launch…”), followed NFT co-creator Gabe Damast who later posted some behind the scenes talk about the making of Lonely Bug (with glimpses!) and the page for animated film Ron’s Gone Wrong, which he commented about (“this looks amazing!”), liked a Lonely Bug fanart of the bug with his face on it, and signed on to a UNICEF letter, along with 28 other celebs, asking the G7 (rich countries) to donate vaccines for distribution where most needed. And he was seen today at a Top Golf! An employee posted a distanced pic with him. Also btw those necklaces he’s been wearing all the time lately are apparently diamonds and are £50k each, but he wasn’t wearing them for golf time at least.

And additional bits from Liam’s interview from yesterday because it’s REALLY LONG, one recap wasn’t enough-- Liam said he definitely has not yet figured out what makes him happy (which makes me sad although also, normalize not having it all figured out in your 20s I don’t think that’s unusual) and talked about the difficulty of figuring out what to do when you’ve already accomplished your life goal so young, he mentioned the people speaking out against the X Factor and that he thinks there needs to be a care system for people in those shows, and said “find you a man who looks at you like Russell Brand looks at you when he’s listening to your stories, he looks into your soul,” and when host Steve talks about meditating naked says “now that’s what I want to think about!” (they’d been talking about what to focus your thoughts on for meditation). He said he wants to experiment with the way he does promo, specifically to wait to see if a song is doing well before doing press tours that might not have any point and that he thinks the industry is in a place where they need to throw out the old molds, and he talked about the industry wasting money on things they don’t need to do for promo. “You have your fanbase, grow it organically, properly,” he said, which is so much more true for any one of the 1D boys than anyone else, for sure, and it makes sense he’d say this stuff not just for the obvious reasons- we’ve all seen how badly labels have fallen short with post 1D solo stuff- but also because the 1D fandom always has been in a position out at the forefront of new ways that fan engagement work (as Liam points out, he talked about the perfect storm of the rise of twitter trends and of 1D) and modeling what will be next for other artists, so trying to fit it into old boxes doesn’t make sense, and it’s still true. Other solo artists simply DON’T HAVE the same kind of fandom these five do, and trying to market them the same way you would any random artist is just throwing away money and engagement! So it is exciting to see these guys take the lead on their own stuff and experiment with new ways of doing things, and Liam is smashing it at that.

[puppetmaster13u]

Imma focus on the DC aspect rn.

Look between Damian “I must have all the animals” Robin and Bruce “Omg it’s a dinosaur” Batman they would have so many animals (not helped by Alfred not being there to say no

Sure, they’ve woken up on an island or something after an explosion with a magical object of some sort but they’re all unhurt and still have their supplies at least

“Omg guys we have fuckin inventory-crystal things!” (Steph probably) 

First thing they encountered was a dodo which was the first sign of something being up, followed by a fuckin dinosaur (thankfully non-territorial & herbivorous) 

Every attempt to contact someone else has failed but they have supplies to make a shelter at least, even a fire and all that

It’s a very good thing they already go on survival trips and they’ve canonically gone to an island of dinosaurs before so they know what’s edible at least

“Cass did you just create narcotics- actually no don’t answer that I don’t wanna know.” “There are berries.” 

“Oh my gosh- guys I need to befriend these giant birds guys I need to do it-” (Dick probably) 

“Father, I have found several giant bats, here is a baby one to help you get over your fear.” “Oh- O-O k a y-” 

Half of their shelter has become a straight up stables with so many areas for different creatures even when they try to focus on like, food and such

If not for the worry about what might be happening back home they wouldn’t be so worried 

On the other hand being stuck together again means they end up screaming several traumas and feelings at each other when it all blows up- somehow they feel better after

“Uh, you guys thought there was just dinosaurs in this place? Because correct me if I’m wrong but that’s a dragon or something isn’t it?” 

“Bruce please get off the unicorn you have enough-” “Oh so that’s where the demon brat gets it from” “This is Biscuits the second and Biscuits the third and if anyone hurts them I will destroy their lives” 

“Jason please put the frog-dog things back you don’t need them-” “Jokes on you I do need them!” 

The moment they find a wyvern nest everything else is fucked, they got dragons now, what’s gonna stop them huh?

Bruce could trick himself before into saying it wasn’t too many animals but they have so many now 

That’s not even including the ones that are for food- the dodos are for eggs and Batcow will apparently have friends when they get back

The moment they find the blueprints for things like attack drones and other such items they are going to go crazy 

Well technically they’d probably just dis and reassemble the many mechanical things that they can get ahold of

“Okay this metal thing is crazy- holy fuck it’s self replicating and can be used for power guys I need more of this to study” 

When they do get back people are going to be so confused, especially with their sudden upgrades

No they do Not explain 

How long are they stuck? Well it was at least a year for them, but for everyone else who knows- Maybe it was only a week, maybe it was a few months of panicked searching 

If they keep the gem implant things they might hide them with things like long sleeves, tattoos, or bracelets made to incorporate the gem in the design

They might still be figuring out how to hide their… many new pets of various sizes but if they ask a magic user really nicely (maybe with a bit of blackmail or bribery) then they can definitely have enough space for… how many animals do they have again….?

Rotating a DCxDP crossover where they end up in an area similar to the Ark games.

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: L - Language 

Summary: Jason doesn’t hesitate to drag his brothers down with him when Bruce starts reprimanding him about the type of language he uses on a daily basis. 

Enjoy! :D 

“Well this is just a load of bullshit! Why do they have to intervene? We’re perfectly capable of handling this.” Jason huffs and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair. He can’t believe what he's hearing.

On the opposite side of the table Bruce levels him with a hard look. “Watch your language Jason.”

Jason blinks before sitting up straight. “What, it’s not like the kid is currently around to overhear."

“Jason!”

Glaring at the man, Jason scowls. This seems to be a regular topic of conversation between them recently because according to Bruce Jason swears too much, especially when he’s around Damian. The man, for whatever reason, wants Jason to be a good role model for the kid and apparently that includes him not swearing.

So now anytime he swears, Bruce points it out with a matching scolding tone and expression.

It’s a ridiculous notion because Jason being who he is was brought up with swearing, living on the streets for so many years exposed him to all kinds of things, one of which being the language people use. Swearing is just part of his vocabulary, half of the time he isn’t even aware he is doing it. As long as he’s not swearing at someone, then surely there should be some leniency.

“Oh come on!” He exclaims with a wave of his hands. “He’s been raised as an assassin, he was already tainted before we even met. Me saying a few words isn’t doing any harm.”

Before Bruce could respond a new voice joins the conversation. “To be fair you do swear a lot. Maybe you should try and tone it down.”

Jason turns to his right to glare at his older brother who’s lounging comfortably next to him. “Oh fuck off, Dick, no one asked for your opinion.”

Dick stares back unimpressed, he raises both eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

Jason recalls what he said and grits his teeth.

He points menacingly at Dick. “That doesn’t prove anything. Quite frankly I grew up in Crime Alley, of course I’m gonna swear, you hear it every minute in that place and typically as a kid you’re gonna pick up the habit. You know what they say old habits die hard.”

“Just like you did?” A different voice retorts with a snort.

Jason switches his gaze to Tim, who is opposite him next to Bruce currently playing with his phone, and blinks at him in surprise. “Uh, excuse me? I don’t know whether to be insulted or proud by that.”

It’s usually only him who makes death jokes so it’s come as a surprise to find Tim making one, a well-timed one too. Jason shakes his head, he’ll deal with those emotions at another time.

“Anyway, if we’re talking about who swears too much then why aren’t you giving Tim a lecture? He swears like a bloody sailor. If anyone needs reprimanding on his language it’s him!”

Tim abruptly stops fiddling with his phone and looks up, he rolls his eyes and glowers at him. “Jesus Christ that’s so immature Jason. How old are you, 10? I’m no way near as bad as you.”

His response gets a gleeful chuckle out of Jason. He knows exactly how the next few minutes are about to play out and he can’t wait. While the focus of the conversation had been on him, he’s glad for the opportunity to move it onto someone else and Tim happens to be perfect for the new spotlight.

Without any hesitation Jason digs into his pocket and grabs his phone. Once he has the device in hand he starts searching for the video he has saved for this very purpose. Call him petty, but he knew it would be good blackmail material one day.

“Oh really?” He drawls out, finally finding the video he had been looking for, “then what do I have here…” Jason clicks play and puts it on speaker so everyone in the room would be able to hear the audio.

After a second the sound of Tim’s voice could be heard. The teenager was clearly angry about something and certainly wasn’t holding back from letting his anger be known through his choice of words.

“You bloody bastard, why won’t you work you piece of shit. By god this is pissing me off now, I’ve been at this all fucking day and you’re still not fucking working. I am going to kill…”

The recording lasts for about a minute and is filled with Tim swearing his head off, cursing at everything and everyone and making empty threats. Once it’s finished Jason turns his phone off, puts it back in his pocket and leans back in his chair feeling smug about the situation.

“I rest my case.”

His words are met with a stunned silence in the room. Tim is blushing hard with his head buried in his hands. Next to him Bruce looks concerned, probably for Tim’s mental health and wellbeing. Dick’s staring at Tim with shock spread across his features.

After a few beats Tim lifts his head from his hands but keeps his eyes down staring at the table so he could avoid everyone’s eyes. “Okay in my defence the technology was really piss–annoying me. It wouldn’t work and I couldn’t work out why so I got frustrated and that happened.”

His response makes Jason snort and causes Dick to shake his head in disbelief. He knew Tim could be feisty but until that moment he never realised how bad his temper could get. Jason’s honestly impressed. However that doesn’t mean he’s letting Tim get away with it, especially when he’s getting blamed for something Tim does just as much of as him.

If he's going down then he’s dragging Tim down with him. It’s just unfortunate that he doesn’t have anything on Dick.

Jason’s broken out of his thoughts on ways he could get blackmail material on Dick when Tim speaks up again. He’s finally looking up at everyone though his still flushed face shows his prior embarrassment.

“Let’s be honest, is swearing really all that bad? As long as we’re not swearing at people then I think it’s fine. We’re not harming anyone. Who cares if we swear a little too much. And anyway, doesn’t everyone swear at some point?”

“Clark doesn’t.” Dick pipes up next to him.

Jason snorts. “That’s because big blue is a boy scout, of course he isn’t going to swear. He doesn’t count. Plus we’re from Gotham after all, it’s not like this is the most impeccable place in the world.”

Dick becomes thoughtful, humming his response. “Yeah that’s true I guess.”

“Boys.”

The three brother’s all turn and look at Bruce who had called for their attention. Jason had forgotten the man was even there, he had surprisingly been quiet until now. Maybe it’s because Clark was brought into the conversation, it must have peaked his interest. Jason files that information away for later.

“It doesn’t matter how much any of you swear, you shouldn’t do it at all. Damian is still young, he doesn’t need to grow up listening to that sort of language despite his initial upbringing.” Bruce firmly says, looking at each of them in turn. “You all know better and have good manners, going forward I expect you to use them.”

As Bruce rattles on about proper manners and the importance of them, Jason finds himself resisting the urge to smile. With every second that passes, it threatens to break out on his face. What makes matters worse is that he knows he shouldn’t smile, this isn’t a smiling matter considering how serious Bruce is being but the man is making it difficult to concentrate and to take the topic seriously.

Jason glances to the right to find Dick staring at Bruce with a hand covering the lower part of his face and Jason can tell that his brother is in the exact same boat as he is.

Apparently all it takes for him to break is Dick to glance at him and for them to make eye contact.

After that Jason couldn’t help himself but to burst out laughing, next to him Dick also breaks out into a fit of giggles. They laugh for a good while until they’re able to start calming down, by that point Jason’s cheeks are hurting and he even had tears forming in his eyes. As he takes a deep breath to compose himself he makes the mistake of looking over at Dick again, Dick looks back at him too and just like that they fall into another uncontrollable laughing fit.

While laughing Jason gets a glimpse of a confused looking Tim and a disappointed Bruce, but it’s Bruce’s scowling expression that triggers off another wave of giggles.

It takes even longer for the two of them to calm down. As he sits there Jason repeatedly takes deep breaths in order to collect himself. Once he’s calmed down a little, now able to breathe somewhat normally, he could feel how his sides are aching, how his cheeks hurt from the wide smiling and the tears coming from his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard that it hurt, and over something so trivial nonetheless.

When it feels like he’s finally composed himself he risks a glance at Dick to find his brother also in the state of calming down though there’s still a wide grin on face. He then looks at Bruce who is still staring at the two of them with his disappointed look. That’s almost enough to set himself off again. Almost.

“If you’re both quite done, we have important business to discuss, may I remind you that being the reason we’re meeting to begin with.”

“Hey, you’re the one who started on the whole language topic that derailed us in the beginning.” Jason defends himself and his brother’s. All Bruce does is huff at that, knowing Jason is right and can’t defend himself against it otherwise. Jason smirks victoriously.

Opposite him, Tim sighs loudly and makes a show to sitting up straight and sorting out some of the paperwork between them all on table. “Enough already, can we just go over the details and the police reports again and get to the end of this. I have better things to do than hear everyone bicker about language and manners.”

Dick gives the youngest a side look. “What you got planned? Is that who you were messaging just now? Is it your boyfriend?”

“What? No. Just friends. I ain’t telling you.” Tim snaps glaring at Dick.

Jason whistles. “Timmy’s getting some tonight then eh? Make sure to stay safe and use protection.”

“Jason!”

“Well he’s not wrong Tim, but where are you going? We need to know so if something happens we know where to look first.” Dick’s looking more concerned by the minute and Jason could see the flip switch from carefree older brother to over-bearing mother hen.

Tim blinks at them before turning his gaze to Bruce. In a whining voice he pleads the man, “Bruce, get them to stop!”

To begin with all Bruce does is run a hand over his face like he’s regretting every life choice he’s made and how he would rather be anywhere else but here. After a moment he sends exasperated looks at his eldest sons.

“Not much more to go, then we should be all caught up and ready to proceed with the case further tomorrow. Is it too much to ask for your full attention for the remaining hour?”

Jason sighs and sits up straighter, knowing play time is over and it’s time to be serious. One more hour won’t hurt, then afterwards there’s nothing stopping him from having a little fun is there. He nods at Bruce and picks up the piece of paper closet to him to examine the page. Dick does the same and finally Bruce proceeds with their meeting.

[writingtoforgetreality]

I Remember (Malcolm Bright x Reader)

Request: uM hi saw ur request post while i was scrolling through malcolm bright x reader tag lol so may i request an x reader w malcolm where reader's gil's niece or smth so she and mal know each other before he joined the team- and one day where mal was being a dumbass and reader was told to drive mal home and when she was securing his restraints he jokingly asked her to sing to him aNd she did sing and fell asleep on the bed by opposite mal aND he got a good amount of sleep like no night terrors and next day he accidentally slipped that reader ''slept'' w him and gils just like excuse me wtf?? Djkdkdlsjsjs idk i got this idea when i was staring at the ceiling at 4 am instead of doing my essays that were due in the morningxD sorry its p long. Thanks and have a good day/night (by @iwillboilyourteeth), [Prodigal Son-Masterlist]

Summary: Malcolm got hurt again. What a surprise. And, as always, you were right there to take care of him. Tonight, though, things took a turn. For the better or for the worse? Only the future would tell.

Words: 2,142

Warnings: language, love me some sarcasm, fluff, so much fluff, I love writing for Prodigal Son (keep the requests coming)

Song used: “I Remember” by Jason Manns

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were sitting in your apartment when your phone started ringing loudly, interrupting your movie marathon. Sighing exaggeratedly, you checked who decided to annoy you at this time. It was not too late but you liked your alone time a lot. Gil. Oh no. That could never be good.

“Uncle Gil. I hope whatever you’re about to tell me is more important than Harry Potter.” pausing the movie you were currently watching, you did not even give him enough time to greet you. A loud sigh could be heard over the phone. One, that made you laugh.

“(Y/N).” his voice was stern & you knew better than to mess with him. Yet, you could not help yourself.

“Yeah, that’s me. You called me, after all.” joking to ease the tension, your giggling was cut short by his next words.

“Malcolm is a dumbass.”

“What a revelation.”

“He’s hurt.” Gil stated. Throwing your head back in frustration, you knew he only called you if he knew it was not too bad. But bad enough to need your help. “I need you to come get him.” it was not even a question, more like an order. Immediately, you grabbed the stuff you needed & headed out of your apartment towards your car.

“Can I yell at him for being reckless?” opening the door, you got inside but before you started the engine, you waited for the call to end. Could not risk getting youself hurt. Malcolm was the stupid one, not you.

“I already did that but I’m sure he’ll appreciate to hear it again.”

“Good.”

“Drive safe.” Gil noted.

“See you in ten.” & with that you drove to the precinct where he would most likely wait for you.

Growing up, you spent a lot of time at Gil’s. Malcolm was there almost always, so you got to meet each other pretty early on. Deep down, you cared for him. More than you should care for a friend. And because of him being a profiler, you were sure he picked up on that as well. Malcolm was just nice enough to not comment on it. Besides, he would tell you that he was too broken anyway. The thing was that it never scared you away. It did the exact opposite, actually. It only made you want him more.

Did you ignore almost every speed limit? Possibly. Your knuckles were white because you had gripped the steering wheel so tightly. One of these days, you would kill Malcolm. He kept getting himself hurt & you were tired of being the one to drive him home afterwards. Of course, you knew Gil only called you because Malcolm trusted you enough but that did not change the fact that you were exhausted.

“What happened?” approaching Gil, your eyes looked around for a sign of Malcolm. “And where the hell is he?”

“Bathroom.” his finger pointed over. “He didn’t call backup & thought dealing with it alone would turn out fine.” Gil was, you could tell, almost as tired as you. Not only of Malcolm acting recklessly but also because of a long day at work.

“What a surprise.” your sarcasm got the best of you. But it helped you coping with your feelings sometimes. “Uncle Gil?” his head snapped up when you said his name.

“Yes?”

“Go home & get some sleep. I got it from here, promise.” your sweet smile was convincing enough & with a nod, he turned around & walked away.

“(Y/N)?” Malcolm noticed you when he walked out of the bathroom. His face was covered in bruised & by the way he was limping, you were sure that his entire body had to be sore. “Where’s Gil?”

“I sent him home.” shrugging as if it were nothing, you gave Malcolm a look. He knew what it meant but apparently, he wanted to play dumb.

“What?” his head tilted slightly & if it were not for his damn puppy eyes & for the fact that he was hurt, you would be the cause of his bruises. Not quite literally but still. Rolling your eyes at him, you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You’re stupid, I hope you know that.”

“I do, but we caught the killer, so it was worth it.” he casually stated.

“Is it really worth risking your life, Mal?” shaking your head shortly, you were not in the mood to discuss this any further. A simple gesture of your hand was enough to show him that you wanted to get going. “Come on, I’m gonna bring you home.”

“You’re mad.” Malcolm noted when the both of you walked outside back to your car. Sighing loudly, you stopped for a brief moment.

“Yes. I’m mad because I can’t even count how many times we’ve been in this exact situation anymore. And it sucks. Because every single time Gil calls me, I think he’ll tell me that you didn’t make it out like you always do.” Malcolm’s eyes widened when you explained how you were feeling. Your body brushing past his made him turn around & follow you without another word. It was silent between you two until you arrived inside Malcolm’s apartment.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” he spoke up, his voice much softer now. When you saw him struggling to pull off his coat, you walked over to him to help him out.

“You don’t owe me an apology, Mal.” your back faced him when you went to put his jacket away.

“I do. You always take care of me when shit like that happens. And I wanted you to know that I don’t take that for granted. If I were you, I would’ve stopped caring a long time ago.”

“You know as much as I do that this won’t ever happen.” & it was true. Malcolm could mess up over & over again. Could get himself hurt & all that. But you would always be here to catch him, no matter what.

“I don’t deserve you.” his eyes bore into yours & by the look he gave you, you knew he was not talking about you taking care of him when he was hurt. He was referring to you as a person. Basically, he wanted to make you understand that he was not worthy of your love. Which was bullshit to you.

“You deserve so much & it hurts that you don’t see it.” the conversation dropped for the time being. Navigating your way through his apartment, you looked for something he could wear to bed. Soon enough, you found something suitable & when you walked back into the room ,you found Malcolm already sitting on his bed, head hanging low. He stopped you when he noticed your hands grabbing the shirt he was wearing. Sending him a confused look, your eyebrows raised in question.

“I think I can handle it from here on.” taking the clothes from you, he went to strip himself out of his workwear. Surprisingly, he could not move his body enough to achieve anything.

“Yeah, I can see that. Come on, don’t act like that, Malcolm.” it was not the first time you had helped him undressing. As mentioned earlier, the two of you had been in this situation too many times to count.

It did not take long & he was wearing comfortable clothes. After asking if he needed anything else, you went straight to his restraints & helped strapping him in. It amazed Malcolm how you were not weirded out by the fact that he had to be held down in order to have at least a few hours of sleep.

“(Y/N)?” his voice was barely above a whisper but your humming let him know that you heard him. “Can you sing something for me?” it was meant to be a joke, he simply wanted to ease the tension between you guys. Thinking about it for a second, you came to the conclusion that it would not hurt to do that. Maybe it would help him fall asleep? Malcolm eyes widened when you actually started singing quietly. It was soothing & he closed his eyes to focus solely on your voice.

Hey you, when I saw you walk in there

And I couldn’t help but stare

At the way you move your hands

‘Cause it’s the little things you do that drive me crazy

And now, let’s forget about the crowd

And just concentrate on us

So that you can know what I want you to know

 I remember how it started

You had everything I wanted

I was helpless to resist

But I didn’t want to

 Only if you would hold me tight

As we talked all through the night

About those things you won’t tell no one else

I know that we’ve got long ways to go

But I want you to know

That I’ll be there till the end, so don’t you worry

 I remember how it started

You had everything I wanted

I was helpless to resist

But I didn’t want to

‘Cause I fell in love with you-ou-ou

 After you finished, Malcolm still had his eyes closed, he just laid there for a while, recalling the words of the song. He knew what you were trying to tell him but if he had to be honest, he was scared. If the two of you were to try something, he thought you would leave him the moment you realized his demons were too much for someone to handle. Malcolm did not hear you leave his apartment, neither did he feel a movement. Opening his eyes slowly, he found you sound asleep right next to him. Your peaceful form made him smile brightly. Contemplating if he should wake you up, he decided against it in the end. Deep down, he knew you would not judge him he if he had a night terror next to you. And if he were honest, having you with him made him incredibly calm. That night, he fell asleep almost immediately, without any nightmares invading his dreams. The reason for it was you. Only you.

Malcolm woke up early the next morning. Work called. Okay, maybe Gild had told him to take a few days off but everyone who knew Malcolm, knew that he did not listen to such orders. Or any orders, in general. You were still asleep when he loosened his restraints. He left you a note behind before leaving his apartment for work.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay at home?” Gil questioned the second Malcolm entered the office where the rest of the team was already up & working.

“You did but I’m fine.” Gil rolled his eyes at his words. Usually, whenever Malcolm insisted on being fine, he was everything but. Examining his face closer, Gil was shocked to see him so…well rested?

“Wait. How much did you sleep last night? You look unusually awake.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s because I slept with (Y/N) last night.” Malcolm spoke casually & went to examine the pictures that were displayed on the table in the middle of the room. Gil’s eyebrows raised at that. Dani only sent him a weird look & JT almost choked on his coffee at Malcolm’s confession. There were some things he did not want to know & his love life was one of it.

“Excuse me, what now?” Gil was the first one to press the topic further. Everyone knew how protective he could get when it came to you, his niece. When Malcolm turned around, he found three pairs of eyes looking sternly at him. Wait, what did he say? Realization washed over his face & he only now noticed how wrong his words sounded without any given context.

“No, wait…That came out wrong.” closing his eyes briefly, he prepared an explanation for his confused co-workers. “(Y/N) drove me home yesterday & she helped me with my restraints & all. She fell asleep & I didn’t wanna wake her up.” Malcolm’s hands gestured wildly, not wanting to give them the wrong impression of last night’s events. JT pretended to understand what he explained even though he had no idea & frankly, he did not care too much. Malcolm had lost Dani’s interest a while ago, she continued working on the next case. Only Gil was left. He gave Malcolm a knowing look, went over to him & patted him on the shoulder.

“You better take care of her, Bright. Or you have to deal with me.” his threatening smile creeped Malcolm out but he knew Gil was only trying to keep you safe. Maybe you were the right one for him. Last night was proof enough. It was scary to take that next step but on the other hand, he wanted to take that risk. He wanted to give it a try. For the both of you.

Published (04/20/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @octopus5555 (thanks for your support <3)

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - RED

Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

WORDS: 7791 WARNINGS: Sexual Content, Mentions of Trauma

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | BLUE | YELLOW

-----

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

-          Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

You:

“Y/N?”

On peaceful days should there be chaos to be expected. With peace does not come promise. A flower with blooming red petals would eventually wilt, despite all else telling it not to. That same blooming flower would die the same from other natural, unnatural causes, like a wind too strong for it to hold onto its stem or a butterfly that came too late for its pollen.

But when peace was current, something you could see right before you knowing it wasn’t to last, it wasn’t much because of the artist you were why you’d resort to capturing that peace onto your canvas and make it last forever.

Two artists, that was. Someone joined you in your endeavor that day. Not so much of a student as he were a companion. An equal, perhaps.

Damian didn’t let his squinting eyes from where he placed the tiniest round brush on, the fabric that turned blue at his touch. You merely hummed at his call of your name and didn’t look to him as well.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Two easels set up at the manor’s back porch angled just right for most of the city skyline to be seen. It was far too small to be the focus, but everything else, the valleys that surrounded it, the actual forests going against the concrete ones, if you managed to get it right, you might want to keep this one for yourself.

Your thoughts complete left all that matter, however, when Damian asked you, “It’s a question about sex. More than one actually.”

“Oh.”

Not what you thought.

You might have had a lymph node in your neck, but still you nodded.

“Alright then. What do you want to know?”

He was painting the clouds. Didn’t even look the slightest bit uncomfortable. Good, you guessed.

“How old am I supposed to be before having it?”

Some wordless mutter rolled out your tongue at that. Eventually, the answer just came right out of you.

“Other than being of age, it really depends if you’re emotionally ready for it, Damian. If you know you’re not ready, nothing should push you to do it.”

“How do I know when I’m ready?”

That same calmness, the one that steadied your often shaking hands, allowed you to create the perfect cone for one of the hilltops at the horizon. You marveled over it for a while.

“When your doubts are encompassed with everything else,” you said. “When you know about what comes after.”

A dimming yellow sun, over at the far end. It was that sun, you told yourself, that was making those words fall of your lips. And not at all this series of resurfacing memories.

“When you meet the right person,” you told him.

You saw from your side eye how that remark made Damian stop with his brush. He set it onto its holder, placed his hands on his knees. “Other people don’t wait for that last one,” he said. “Do they?”

“It’s always different for a lot of people. Sometimes, they could only ever do it with people they love. Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter.”

“When I have sex with someo-“

You gave him a dirty look.

“When I’m a lot older,” he scoffed. “And I want to engage in the act of coitus.”

“Coitus?”

“How do I know they’re right? They’re the right person at that moment, then suddenly the next, they’re not.”

You reached over his easel to grab his brush, handing it back as you pointed at a raven that landed on one of the trees. It urged him to continue.

“You ask yourself then. If things won’t go the way you’d have wanted with that someone, would you regret ever doing it with them at all?”

“Obviously,” he snorted. “I wouldn’t want to waste my time.”

A bright smile, just as you settled the green of the wilting grass. Not so much was it green as it were this brownish orange, with it still cold enough for you to wear a sweater this uncomfortable when you’d have wanted your hands free.

“Is it really this…” he did some kind of motion with his hands. “…milestone in your life that’s supposed to be so important?”

“Wow, you’re really asking the right questions here, kid.”

That nickname made him snarl, back to his canvas. It took you a while, having to look to the sky for some kind of answer that wasn’t going to mess his head for the rest of his life.

“I used to think it wasn’t,” you said. “Sometimes, it’s only as important as you make it. It’s all up to what you believe.”

You turned your brush over just the right circle, which made of the red petals of a rose on one of the bushes that first greeted the day after months of a long winter.

Then there was this sinking. Something within.

“But your first time, at least. It should be with someone you love,” you said. “You’ll find that a lot of things will be easier for you.”

He seemed satisfied with that. Thankfully. He didn’t look so traumatized just yet.

Then he asked you one that no longer was so easy to think about.

“Was your first time with someone you loved?”

And you thought, with how everything suddenly weighed, not just your head or your hands but the whirring air, the leaves that danced along to it, the flowers still so young into their bloom, the misty clouds, the light, the brush on your hand and the paint on its tip.

What wasn’t so heavy, that is, was your voice.

Because if anything surprised you that day, more than the questions and the apparent peace, was how easily the answer came out of you.

Easy, because it was true.

And it was true, because when you lied, your clammy hands would be stuck to your back, shaking just as much as your eyes would be frantic and searching for something that wasn’t there.  

But your voice was as light as your hands were calm and dry, your eyes fixated on the beautiful sight of the city and nothing else.

“Yes,” you said. And with it, came a smile that lasted for days.

.

Jason:

Two thousand dollars sounded a lot more inviting after a failed drug raid, not so much after the seeing all the evening gowns and diamonds and Bruce using his almighty charm with investors in sharp-needled stilettoes.

He did not, for his own sanity’s sake, want to sit through any of it, not even for a whole inheritance from the enterprise. Nope. Not even ten million dollars was worth putting on this god-awful suit poking through his neck like a knife, a jacket supposed to fit but had popped off one of the buttons, and of course, his hair. Swept back. Ruled over by mounds of gel and whatever it was the rest of his brothers had on. They all looked like elves in a Christmas workshop assembly line with the red tie over his chest.

Whatever trouble would happen, they’d call him. Now that they’ve blocked off his room, however, he came to not much resort.

The manor’s pool, to his luck, was unguarded. Unused for the last few months, but still clean.

Whatever silence was, and whatever silence could be, it was just that when he shut the door behind him, not bothering to latch on the lock, and turned on one of the lights, the purple and blue ones that shone from underneath the pool’s floor, like some magical lake that would speak to him in rhymes, maybe hand him a sword floating on a lily pad, but not even that was enough to impress him. As if anything impresses him still.

He stood by the poolside, hands in his suit pockets. Audibly he cursed that he forgot to bring a cigarette pack, but even that thought didn’t last long enough to bother him too much.

Jason stood there, right by the water, and watched the lights change like they told much of a story.

Something. Anything, to intrigue him.

Anything to make him feel again, to interest him, to cry out to him and actually hold his attention long enough for it to not be whisked away from his mind by his own hands because thinking or feeling was too much work.

But even those very lights, that didn’t seem so bright at all, were silent. The same silence for so many months.

He wanted noise. He wanted to hear again. But nothing, nothing was loud enough for him anymore. Someone could be screaming into his head and so much of it would disperse before it even reaches his ears at all, much less his brain. It wasn’t that he was being dumb, though that would be quite the reason.

But it was that nothing was bright enough anymore.

No one was attractive, or intriguing, or entertaining. Not by a mile.

Nothing. He cared about nothing.

Everything, all except her.

And it had to be just that, no room so bright, no smile so true, then when it was with her.

He hated the truth, perhaps just as much as he hated the rest of the world. The only thing he didn’t hate was someone he couldn’t even be with, much less love. But here he was.

Some noise from the door he came in from. He should have locked it. Now someone else was here.

More so did he wish that when he turned and saw who it was.

“Here?” Y/N’s shoes against the empty ground. That, he heard. Fuck him. “Really?”

“They closed off my room.”

She looked really pretty, lipstick on her already red lips, jumpsuit dragging along the tiles and her hair down her back. And she didn’t stop walking until she was right by his side, much to his dismay. Still, he didn’t move. Though god forbid he allow himself another look after the first one.

“You’re just gonna stand here and stare at the water?”

“Better than that shitshow outside.”

“Every party’s a shitshow for you.”

“Finally, one of you caught on.” He shifted his arms as if he had a drink he was holding, which he didn’t. He needed one badly.

“Then why accept the job?” she shrugged. “You could have just said no.”

He didn’t expect her to look at the water like it were at all interesting.

But suddenly, the lights from underneath didn’t seem so dull anymore.

Because even having to swim through the lavas of literal hell, I’d leave the comforts of isolation if it means you’d be anywhere within the room.

“Two thousand dollars,” he said.

“Ah.”

Everything did get easier to understand, once he stopped with the moping and the denial and actually allowed that stupid little voice he hated to speak up loud enough so he’d listen to it.

“Maybe you’re right,” she laughed. “The water actually is a lot more interesting.”

Right then, he allowed himself a second, subtle look. At her face. The thin straps over her shoulders that laid so well against her skin. Her hair she’d purposely made unruly but still styled enough to be classy.

The next thing to notice were her hands. They weren’t shaking, though they weren’t unmoving either. Her thumbs were rubbing over the backs of her palms, much like fidgeting her fingers would as if she were nervous. But there shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about. Nothing he could see, at that.

But after a look at her hands, it was her eyes that told him the whole story of her trailing thoughts, thoughts that maybe she didn’t know about as well.

Three years since she’s last stepped into a pool, since she’s felt that much water around her, dance along every bit of her skin when she’d push through the waves and move about as if she were floating, or flying, suspended from the ground and not have a string to hold her up.

She wanted to. He could see that. But it was doubtful that she’d admit to that. She’d never admit to that, not when it would only cause so much disappointment when she’ll ultimately cower away.

But her wanting to swim made him want to swim.

Some first step. To have someone to help her. He could be that someone.

Not even thinking for himself anymore. Jason was off to the benches at the side, and had taken off his tie and slid it off his neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, just as he took off his suit jacket.

“I’m going in.”

She looked at him like she would to a troll that had climbed out of the sewers, though it wasn’t much out of disgust as it would be of disbelief. At least, he hoped it was. That wasn’t even to matter. He’d taken off his dress shirt before he even realized what he was doing at all.

Not something he’d do so suddenly, but then again, some of the most stupid things he’s ever done the past year were all for her sake. This didn’t surprise him at the least, not even the fact that the more rational part of him was watching him move like some hamster in a wheel stupidly trying to run away.

“You’re gonna swim?”

He unbuckled his belt. “Mind turning around?”

Her eyes flashed wide open, and she did as told.

Jason took off his pants, his shoes, everything save for his boxers. This wasn’t so stupid. It shouldn’t be.

He stepped into the pool, one foot first, then he slid in. He wanted to feel the cold. He wanted it to go against his heat and make him feel something and actually overwhelm him. And it was just that, that very feeling he’d long craved, when he spread his arms and let the water seep into his flesh.

Then he found himself smiling, just as he looked up and caught Y/N watching him do all that, lips between her teeth and beaming back so wonderfully bright, every part of him ached for that sight to last so much longer.

He sat back, waved through the water, inviting her even when he wasn’t asking her, telling her that this is all okay, that she was ready.

A million voices were screaming at him that none of this added up to just about every thought he could muster, that it wasn’t in him to just jump into the water, half naked and alone with the woman he loved. So many asking him what the hell he was doing, that all this was going to scare her away.

But it was, in fact, in him to know what went on in her head, as she longingly looked at the pool like it were so much more than that. It was in him to know that there’s so many more steps in this staircase of healing, to being that very person she’d sought out to be, away from the incident, who she no longer was, and never has been.

Jason swam over to the side of the pool, at the side where she stood.

And with that, a smile so beautiful, she crouched over and set her legs to the side so she could sit on the ground. Her hand was too near from where he laid his arms, but he didn’t reach for it. He just watched as the droplets that fell from his skin onto the ground nipped at her fingers.

“Is it cold?”

His voice was low and husky. “Yeah…”

“Is it nice?”

Jason looked to the wall behind her and laughed. “The water’s great.”

She hummed.

Her hands. Something about them. He couldn’t look away. Like they were so much more than her soft fingers and her gentle touch. With his chin buried onto his folded arms, he kept looking.

Not from her hands that were reluctantly reaching for the water’s surface, shy, bashful even, like it would sting her if she inched too close. Y/N stretched out her fingers and touched it, enough to drench just the tip of it, then she twirled it about to create wonderful ripples that waved to his body.

Jason reached over to hold her wrist, stopped just in case she were to pull away, but she didn’t pull away.

Y/N’s eyes were on him, just as silent and curious, and he felt her relax.

He led her hand further into the water, deeper, colder. He felt the hair on her skin stand, bumps over her pores. She was breathless, over something so small. He pulled gently enough until the water reached up to her elbow.

Then the smile he earned out of her, the love he so wanted to earn as well, it was all he could see, with her toying with the water and swerving it about. Right then, he could hear everything. The droplets that danced, the splashes against their skin, her subtle laughter, her teeth over her lips. He heard it all, and it was beautiful, so much more than songs or tunes played by the most skilled hands over piano keys.

If he could just let himself watch her, for longer than he hoped, he’d fall deeper in love than the depths he’d already fallen into, and had tried, relentlessly, to escape from, but couldn’t. Denial didn’t help much, but neither did admittance. He was stuck. And if only things weren’t so hard, he wouldn’t dare complain. Not when that very woman he loved was this beautiful.

She drew her hand away, her other one soothing the damp skin and ruining her jumpsuit with the water, which she didn’t even care about.

He wasn’t even thinking anymore. His heart open and his mind shut off. From how she sat, her ankle was exposed, and it was close enough to the water to feel the splatters but not enough to get wet.

Still, without a word, Jason cupped his hand, drew a bit of water up to the surface.

Then he played those drops right onto her skin, close to her feet where her shoes were strapped around. She clenched her toes at the cold, but she seemed to have liked it. He did it again, the droplets falling from his fingers, until her skin was stiff from the air so cold with it drenched.

That’s when she sighed, went on to stare at the little waves he’d created.

“I want to go in.”

He backed away from the pool side, waved his arms about to show her further that it was safe, and wonderful. Then he nodded at her. “If you think you’re ready…”

He saw her throat hitch, but it wasn’t out of doubt.

“I’m ready.”

He didn’t even have to try so hard to show her that everything she was going through, right then, he knew every second of what it was like. His face was soft, his look on her was soft, every bit of him had to be soft for this to be easy on her.

Then things weren’t so soft anymore when she started pulling down her straps from her shoulders. He gulped.

“Could you uh,” she twirled her finger around, motioning that he turn the other way. He did.

It was, both to his fortune and of not, that the wall in front of him was a mirror, reflecting all that went on behind his back. Everything in him stopped, even the blood down his every vein, and with that he watched as she exposed her temple of a body, one he’d worshipped and cherished and made feel every ounce of a sensation there could be, and continue to dream about even with her no longer being there.

But she was here now.

.

You:

The hardest to take off weren’t the straps on your shoes.

But all you ever had to know, was that the one you were with, the one you were hopelessly in love with, was there to help you through all of this.

“Do you, uh,” Jason coughed. “Need some help with that?”

You knew he was watching. If you actually didn’t want him to watch, you would have gone to the other side of the pool and took off your clothes where there wasn’t a mirror in front.

“Yeah,” you said.

As his eyes laid on you, relaxed, calm, just as you remembered he once watched your body so bare, with just a strapless bra over your chest and seamless panties, what contrasted the very cold that stemmed from the water was the burn underneath your flesh, the burn in your chest, the burn on your face and every nerve ending there was. Every nerve ending.

Suddenly you were limbless when he swam over to you, right in front from where you sat at the poolside, and his fingers were on the skin of your thighs, both of them. The water from his skin, falling and absorbing into your own. A sensation in itself.

You unlatched your leg, and he pulled it off and set it to your side.

Now, you were bare.

Jason was looking up at your eyes, however, and not at anything else. Not at the parts so incomplete. Not on places so ugly. As if you were so beautiful. And from that look alone, you started to believe that you were.

One at a time.

With his hands held out, you let him take your right leg, the one covered in burns and healed stitches, but still with toes and skin at all, and carefully, laid it into the water.

It was cold. Colder than even ice. But god, was it so heavenly.

Now, the other.

Jason, from what you could tell, tried not to look nervous just as you were, but you both smiled, and that was all there is to it to make you step into that very threshold once so frightening.

Your left leg, ending just three inches below your knee, dipped into the water’s surface.

You were here.

You were free.

You could feel the cold, the water, the waves, and the rush up to your head.

“Take your time,” Jason breathed, and his voice was all the more wonderful with everything else you could feel.

Any more, and the tears might start to defy your efforts.

He was as gentle as you knew him to be, and with that, it urged you on. You wanted to be the freest version of yourself. You wanted to be in the water with him, and hold him.

“Jason-“

“I’m here.”

You slid off the poolside, and he was there to hold you up before you could even think to move. His warm hands were so different from how cold the water was, but as equally burning as the heat that spurred everywhere else. They held your waist, and you did not want them to move away at all.

“It’s okay,” he said, with his grip still strong. “I’ll let go only if you tell me to.”

So you didn’t tell him to.

Your hands, already they found their ways resting on top of his shoulders, holding onto him a lot firmer than you actually needed to. Your right leg touched the floor. Your left one waved about in the water. You looked down. They were there. They were alright. They didn’t sting, nor hurt, nor did you feel so exposed that you’d never want to step into any light again.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you frantically nodded, still looking down at the prettiest lights that shone beneath you and Jason’s feet.

You were laughing. “This is so great…”

“It is…”

With you so distracted marveling over the water, he thought you wouldn’t notice if his hands rubbed over your waist, circled them tighter, enough for his fingers to rest delicately on your spine. He was holding you so tenderly, yet you could feel how much he was holding back. And you just went on pretending not to notice.

“I want to go there.”

You pointed at the middle of the pool, where the lights were centered on, littered about to form this spiral that stretched out like a firework that burst into the sky.

“Alright,” said Jason. “Hold on, okay?”

You nodded, and again that wonderful sensory outburst that were supposed to overwhelm you, but didn’t, when Jason led you both to the center of the pool, the waves flowing against your flesh and skin. Oh, was it so beautiful. The water, touching your every bit, it was so much more than you remembered, and so much better than you’d have imagined.

As you reached that very center, and with you having to take in both the feel of this flight, the breath that had escaped you, the lights, ones you had to watch from afar, were now beneath and around you, like you stood right in the core of a star that exploded, a supernova, right at the flares and the burst of light and sound, just as it was on your flesh.

You were swimming on stars, on clouds, on a bed of petals so sweet. You were afloat in this wonderous space, the sun so close but not burning you with its light. There were tears. Wonderous tears. Ones you couldn’t hold back with your heart in full and your chest in this tug that pulled it in all directions. You splayed your arms out, and tilted your head back, enough for your hair to be dipped into the water. And you closed your eyes. Everything. Everything. This was everything.

You looked back up, and no one, not even the moon itself in the midst of a dark sky, had ever looked at you the way Jason did.

Oh god, how you loved him.

Then that music, one that was playing so sweetly the moment you stepped in, it blurred out when you circled your arms around his strong neck.

He kept with his promise and went on to keep holding you so close, closer, until your chest met his so solid, all the cold from the once freezing water was whisked away.

Fingers tangled onto his hair, breaths battling as they met in the space in between, a space that shouldn’t have been there at all. His own hands trailed down to your hips, further down until it made you jolt.

Then your legs were around him. You were flying, so high up in the sky not even the clouds would reach you.

He pushed back your hair.

You didn’t know at what point your lips had met, your warmth uniting into one, single flame, but everything was so much of the speed of a moving picture, that none of time, nothing of the sort that wasn’t him and him alone, ever even mattered anymore.

.

Jason:

What was it called, when something unfolded before you, and everything happened so fast even when you’d try to make it slow, flashed into this bright, white light, and suddenly you couldn’t move, nor say anything to protest?

That wasn’t even much to think about anymore.

Everything was paced, so slow, slow enough that he could feel every movement she made, every flick of her fingers, every sound that escaped her lips. It heightened to so much more than it actually was. Those months, where he no longer felt even just a splinter, now all those feelings collapsed into the now.

He was kissing the world, his world, and so much of her beauty manifested into this glorious flow. He was hungry, digging into her skin as if there were more to be undone. His lips were no different. Over her lips, her jaw, her neck, licking over her shoulder and back over to her lips where she tasted the sweetest.

She did not hold back either, and he didn’t want her to. She pulled on his hair enough to make it hurt and so perfect was that pain, the growl that came out of him so animalistic, even more so did he starve. Starve for her. He wanted to taste every bit of her.

And so he did, pushing her to the edge of the pool and turning her around so no longer could anything restrict his shaking touch, on every part of her that would spark a fire engulf larger than the one within his chest. He pushed himself inside her, over and over until it hurt.

He couldn’t hold back, couldn’t hide behind this mask of gentleness any longer. For that same gentleness and touches so soft, only could be when his efforts to conceal what his desires truly manifested into, and it comes with deep want, so much lust, fire that burns, skin being drawn in red by the hungriest nails and teeth that dug into flesh. His hips started to hurt, so did his hands. It was starting to hurt her, too, with there being marks on just about every sweet spot there was. But it was just those marks that pushed them both further into fulfillment.

His name, Jason, the most beautiful thing to ever escape her lips, his hands holding her still, holding her neck and squeezing just enough to let her know that only he could ever give her that perfect mix of pain and gratification so immense, that only he could touch her and make it last, and for the whole of the night, his name was the only thing she could ever cry out.

.

You:

Oh.

Oh, was it all so wonderful.

The strain, the pull of every muscle, the purple marks on your neck, the bruises on your hips, the aches down your cunt, and every bit inside you, still with the many releases, bursts of avalanches and numbs that faltered into lingering buzzes, and eventually this humming that continued like some song you couldn’t remember. Wonderful. Magical. Even if you could think straight, which you couldn’t do much with what happened, you couldn’t describe it with enough justice.

You’ve never slept so well in so long, your head up far beyond the clouds, into space and the stars above, the gas giants that make you even lighter. With not even gravity to pull you down, you were soaring up above.

In some idealistic perfection, a world without the cruelties you knew all too well, it would be that you’d wake up, satisfied at that, to a bed that wasn’t empty, next to a man you loved whose body was filled with the deepest scars, and that would have been the end to the story and all else, the chaos most especially, would cease.

But as it were as cruel as it were kind enough to grant you that moment of bliss, you woke up, still with the sky so dark, and your arm outstretched for a naked body no longer there, but instead you found that very body already with his clothes on, moving as quiet as he possibly could outside the bed.

“Jason?” you sighed, then you sat up holding the thin sheet up to your chest.

Jason was startled. Wasn’t expecting to wake you. Or that, he was trying not to.

“Why are you up?” he asked. He was in a hurry.

And his face, from what you could read, it told you everything you needed to know.

“Are you leaving?”

Again? You wanted to say.

But even if you did, his response wouldn’t have changed. For the better, that is. Because he didn’t have much a response at all.

“Go back to bed.”

“What’s going on-“

“I’m sorry.”

He zipped up his pants, put on his jacket and just like that he was headed for the door.

His face was too grim and blank for him to leave with intention to come back. His hands were too fast reaching for the door. His voice, too low as if he were hiding something from eventually spilling. No. He was leaving. And he wouldn’t want to be found. Not after that look he just gave you before he opened the door.

You took all the sheets and reached for his shoulder. Already, you were shattered. Already, the weight had befallen, on your arms and your chest. He was so stiff that even to just turn, it was hard for him to do.

But you held his face, really held him so he wouldn’t dare pull away. The air had been sucked out of that very room and so much of your body would have broken apart, fallen to the ground and no one would be there to pick them up.

“You don’t have to leave,” you whispered, pushing your forehead against his so your breaths would meet again. “Please, be with me-“

“Y/N -“

“What did I do?” You met his eyes.

“Nothing. Please. We’ll talk about this later-“

“When?”

He sounded so solid, so unaccepting of anything to be hurled at him.

“I have to go-“

“You’re not coming back, are you?“

“I said we’ll talk about this.”

“Don’t walk away from me-“

He didn’t even let you finish.

He was strong, and he never used that against you. But that time, he did. He grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you off him. In less time than you would have hoped, he was gone.

The man you wanted. The one you loved. The one you chose.

Wouldn’t choose you.

Another of the hurt, that descent, when you’ve slipped into this hole so familiar yet the pain wasn’t something to get used to. Tears on the sheets, broken, so many of them spilling out of you and onto the floor, your skin, the bed.

You can’t shatter again. You can’t break any more.

This was the choice you made. No one told you it was all going to be easy. That all this would be handed over just as you called the moment you wanted it. No. Not with him.

Go after him.

Tell him everything.

Go after him.

You grabbed everything you got, put on your clothes and rushed out that door before you were even fully awake enough for your eyes to adjust to the light. Straight down the stairs, out into the garage where you knew Jason parked his bike. He wasn’t there. He already left.

So you took one of the keys that were hung on the wall, started up one of Bruce’s many cars and drove out of that manor.

You weren’t going to let go. You’d chase him if you had to.

You knew this would happen, the moment you realized you loved this asshole. You saw this coming. And you were prepared.

You were as fast as if you flew, if you were no heavier than a speck, a particle that would let even the flap of a butterfly’s wings change its course and move so fast, no one would have seen it.

You called him. As you drove and reached the city, you did not stop calling. Five. Six. Ten times. He didn’t answer.

Once you reached his apartment, seeing that his bike wasn’t where he’d parked it, you called again.

At the fifteenth call, he picked up.

“Jason, for the love of god-“

Your hands were shaking as it held the wheel, and nothing, not even the rain pattering onto the windshield would have calmed you. Everything happened just as fast as the rest of the night went on. And here you were, at the end, and you tripped just as you saw that very end of the dark tunnel.

“Y/N…” he said. And his voice a lot softer than it had been just then.

“Please, just talk to me.”

“We’ll talk. I promise you, we will-“

“I want to talk to you now-“

“You think you know what you want,” he said. “But you don’t. Give it time. You’ll change your mind.”

You slammed your fists against the wheel and the horn blew under the impact.

“You said you’d never make decisions for me-“

“If this is your decision, you need me to make it for you.”

So close. So close to driving away and leave him for the rest of forever.

But it wasn’t close enough.

You turned to the screen right by the car’s dashboard, pressed onto the button to turn on Bruce’s many trackers. There was a red dot.

‘No,’ you whispered. ‘No, you won’t.’

.

Jason:

“I’m sorry…” he pleaded. “I’m so sorry… but I promise you. Everything will get better.”

Up a rooftop, where he thought she’d never find him. It was hard to ignore the quake in his voice, his hands, how every word he spoke was like driving a knife down his throat, neck, and chest.

“No,” she screamed, and her cries hurt more than that very knife ever would. “It won’t. You’re a coward. What are you gonna do? Leave for another four months?”

“That’s not true.”

“Tell me it is!”

“Y/N.”

He let the skyline distract him, the buildings that soared up, higher than he could ever stand, then locked his eyes onto one of them so they wouldn’t defy him and break apart.

“Whatever it is you think is going on, it isn’t. I already told you how I felt. Why didn’t you just lis-“

Of course, she’d find him.

To be frank, even if it were one of the other safe houses he’s picked that wasn’t on any map of the city, she was bound to find him. He left her at Wayne Manor, for fuck’s sake.

The minute he heard her footsteps, coming in from entryway, he stopped talking, breathing even, and put his phone down. Trackers. Of course. Bruce had five of them on him at least.

He turned around.

“You actually fucking followed me-“

“Why?”

She wore the same thing from that night, the same suit he’d lustfully watched her take off, straps down those very shoulders, baring herself. Her hair, up in this beautiful mess, makeup no longer there and her face beautifully bare. Still a sight, she was, a sight he no longer wanted to get lost in.

“Why is this so hard for you-“

“Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?“

“Because, I-“

Every word out of him, a fire that couldn’t be put out. Flames uncontrollable, and his breath nothing but encouraging winds.

“Because you’re gonna wake up one day and realize I’m not any of my brothers… I was the one who never stood a chance,” he said. “No one would think you’d want me, out of the many other things you could have had. One day, you’re gonna realize that I’m not what you wanted-“

“I love you-“

God, it was everything he ever wanted to hear.

“You had Dick and Tim. They’ve loved you for so long… And you’re actually choosing the one guy who doesn’t?“

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

Another step forward from her. Another step back from him. He can’t stand too close or all this would be as close to the world’s slowest, most painful death.

“Nothing could have pointed you to me. Everything was telling you to-“

“For fuck’s sake, stop listening to everything else and just listen to me.”

A struggle at that.

But he’s never been so cold.

It wasn’t even from the wind from such a height, if there were any at all. But he was shivering, his teeth were gritting. Everything he said, he didn’t even mean. And all the more was it excruciating to hear himself say it all.

But he could listen. Even if it’d hurt. He’ll listen.

She was crying. To just reach over and hold her hand. He couldn’t even do that.

“Three years ago,” she whispered into the cold night air. “I was at the manor. Two weeks out of the hospital. I was just learning how to walk again but that day was hard on me. I couldn’t make a step. I was on my bed, and I was just staring at the ceiling because I couldn’t get out of it.”

It pained him all the more, when he knew nothing of what was to come to him, that all this was going to catch him before he’d even realize what it was.

“You never visit me at the manor but that day, you were there. I don’t even remember what for, but you stopped by and you caught me reading A Christmas Carol because it was the one book in my room that I actually liked. Because I couldn’t go down to the library and get more, and I didn’t want to ask from anyone.

“We ended up talking about Dickens. I didn’t know shit, but I remember you talking about him like he was your uncle and I just listened to you. I told you I liked reading his books. You said you’d bring me more when you’d come back. Three days later, you did. You got me Great Expectations.”

Great Expectations.

Why can’t he remember this?

“You left, and I read it that same night. That’s when I found a quote that you highlighted.”

Jason took a step back, away from her.

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

Everything. Everything that devastated, all suddenly came to place.

“The book was new. Store bought. The tag was still there. You bought it for me a day after you visited. Then you read it yourself and highlighted that quote.”

“How did you-“

“Remember that?”

She ignored the streaks down her skin, the droplets that fell down her neck.

“It was just a quote,” she shrugged. “It easily could have been nothing… but if I think of it differently now, it all makes so much sense.”

If he took another step back, he’d fall over the ledge.

He should have done that, now that she had walked close enough for him to get so lost into her face.

“If you loved me then,” you whispered. “Did you even know about it?”

This. This was worse than a fall.

He closed his eyes and everything fell through. The tears. The sobs. Everything. Because he did love her then. He’s always loved her since. But to admit it was close to writing his own death sentence.

This. This was death. And he’d happily jump back into that abyss.

“I didn’t want to believe it…”

.

You:

You reached for his face and for once, he welcomed it.

“If you tell me to leave right now,” you swallowed. “I’ll leave. I’ll never look for you again.”

Even if it hurts, even if I’ll have to live without you. If it’s what you want, I’ll let you go.

His hands found your wrists but it was to hold you, not to pry you away.

“Do you love me?”

It wasn’t in his words.

It was how he said yes that made you soar past the birds and the thin air from above.

It was when he finally took a step forward, to hold you in place, to keep you from falling apart and keep you so close, that acceptance of what truly went on, the love you’ve long known about and continued to believe in, even when he didn’t believe in it himself. It was there. It was what moved you. You could have fallen in from one of the many spaces above and still, you would end up in his arms.

“Of course, I do…“

Just as the sun rose, to greet you both into this morning anew. So new a life, waiting for you to come welcome it. And you welcomed it with the widest arms. He kissed you, so tender and real. Up where the city could see you, where you wanted to be seen, only to be with him.

.

Epilogue

Jason:

One box would have been enough for his clothes. He didn’t have much anyway. But as it turns out, leather jackets aren’t exactly as compact as he’d liked.

“Where do you want me to put these?!”

She was in the bathroom. He saw her peak her head out from the door to look at the jacket he was holding up.

“I set up a new closet for you!” she cried out, then she went back to brushing her teeth. “It’s beside mine!”

“Got it!”

He took the boxes of clothes, set it just outside the closet which he’ll definitely get into after he deals with everything else. Moving wasn’t something he liked doing, even when he’s moved around a single city so much before his lease would have allowed him to.

But, this new apartment, her apartment, covered in paint and canvases and rags all over the place that nipped at his neat freakiness he’d soon have to overcome, he might actually stick around.

“What about this!?”

He held up his box of books.

“I emptied a shelf for you, too! It’s next to my sketchbooks.”

“Sketchbooks, sketchbooks…”

Her sketchbooks were all over the fucking place.

He found that shelf, at least. Just enough for all his books. That is, if the paint cans above wouldn’t collapse.

“Do you clean up even just a little?”

“Shut up. It’s organized mess.”

“It’s always organized mess with you artists…”

“What?!”

“Nothing!”

She stepped out the bathroom, in nothing more than just a thin shirt and pajama shorts, then she watched him fumble with the last of his boxes.

“And, uh,” he coughed. “Can I put these somewhere?”

The look on her face, playfully annoyed as it was pleasantly unsurprised, she wanted to laugh that he’d resorted to storing his whole arsenal of weapons in a single cardboard box.

“That floorboard over there,” she pointed. “I loosened it up for you.”

“You’re a doll, pretty bird.” Jason put the box on the floor, ran up to her and grabbed her by her thighs, hoisting her whole thrashing body up his shoulder.

Her screams turned to laughter, then he spun her around, slammed her into her own bed like it was a wrestling ring and held her down with a headlock.

Everything he’s ever thought how this would have ended wasn’t so much of a fraction of how it went. Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

This was how it ended.

And he never wanted it to end.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | BLUE | YELLOW

-----

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[britcision]

Y’all I totally forgot it was Wednesday, but I didn’t come empty handed! No answers, of course, just a peek back into dinner while Danny’s off committing Crimes 😏

————-

Jason really wished he could just focus on having a good time with his family. The food was, as always, exquisite, and Sam and Tucker were moaning happily along with the others.

It smelled great. It looked great. It tasted great, but something in the back of Jason’s head just wouldn’t switch off.

Not until Danny came back.

Even the thought that Danny might be in danger while he just ate dinner sat like a lead weight in his stomach.

The expanded aura… well. It kind of helped? Being practically choked by Danny’s presence, aware in every pore of his skin that Danny was there, was fine, wasn’t hurting, did help.

It just. Made it impossible to really think about anything else.

He was barely following the conversation, just reading the intricacies of Danny’s mood changes and losing track of sentences as people said them.

Finally, finally, Danny’s aura shifted again.

<<Done-got him-no big deal-coming back>>.

Jason almost sagged in his seat, shoulders unknotting marginally (they probably wouldn’t finish until he could see Danny and prove he was fine).

Sent <<impatient-relieved-happy-hurry back>> as well as he could, and nearly dropped his fork at the warm swell of <<affection> he received in return.

Well.

<<Affection-amused-teasing>>.

Clearing his throat, Jason did his best to will away the heat along the back of his neck. Nope, he wasn’t gonna blush when Danny wasn’t even here to look at him while smothering him in those feelings.

And it was definitely just the pit curling up into a little buzzing ball of happiness in his chest. Definitely not actually Jason melting like snow under a blow torch.

Whatever.

Danny was fine, he’d be back soon and Alfred had saved them both plates. And sure, maybe something in Jason wouldn’t unclench until he could see Danny in person, but letting Alfred’s cooking go cold was a sin.

He dug into his still steaming plate, forcing his shoulders to relax a little. Tucker and Tim were still talking about tech, currently disparaging what GIW thought were elite security measures.

Harley had lured Sam, Duke, and Cass into a discussion of her new place in Coney Island at the other end of the table, and yeah, Jason could get interested in that.

Someone might have already asked, but hey. He waited for a convenient pause and leaned in.

“Didn’t Croc move down there with you? He and Riddler attacked the gala last night,” he explained when Harley made a curious noise, head cocking to one side.

Her brow furrowed, so apparently the others hadn’t gotten this far yet. Not sure if he was glad or gonna tease them mercilessly later.

“He what? Yeah, he moved in, but he came back this way ta keep me company as I came up here. Someone’s tryin’ ta give me a hard time cuzza my criminal record, an’ they’re gettin’ intel from one of your local problems,” she added with a shrug, waving her hand.

Cuz yeah, that was also on the list; she’d been up with Ivy, neither of them noticeably causing trouble before apparently Ida Manson got them out of town.

Cass made a small noise of concern and Harley patted her hand, grinning.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me doll, it’s all under control. Thought it might be Pengy havin’ another go at my spot but he burst into tears when I walked in so it’s prob’ly not him,” she said with a very self satisfied smile.

Jason chuckled softly because… yeah, he could picture that. It tracked.

“Smart man,” Duke agreed with a snicker and Harley gave him a fist bump.

“Yeah, I’ll run ‘em down. But why was Waylon at the gala? He jus’ said he was gonna look inta some shit while I was gone,” Harley asked, looking around the table for an answer.

Jason shrugged.

“All their demands were for Harvey Dent. Apparently he was planning to make a run and they beat him to the punch,” he explained, in as much as he understood.

If no one else had a hand on Dent by tonight, he miiiight stretch one of his Red Hood patrols out of Crime Alley to go for a look see.

The man missed his party. The least Jason could do was pay a personal visit.

“Croc mentioned Jason,” Cass noted with a small frown, looking up at him with concern.

And, yeah, that was the other reason he was thinking of getting involved. He couldn’t imagine what the fuck he’d done as a civvie to annoy Dent.

Harley huffed, blowing blonde bangs off her face and lacing her fingers, pointing at Jason.

“Okay, so we gotta go talk to Waylon tomorrow and find out what’s goin’ on. He’s comin’ with me back to Coney when the time comes so he ain’t got time for Arkham,” she said firmly, and something settled in Jason’s gut.

Waylon had so badly wanted the Red Hood not to turn out like he had; another criminal permanently trapped in the system. Yeah, he’d like to return the favour.

Of course, not everyone in the room was up on all the secrets. Sam leaned forward, breaking her quiet streak that as far as Jason knew was her longest ever.

“Wait, you’re going to break that guy out of jail? He wanted to strap a bomb vest to Jason,” she said harshly, finally snapping Tim and Tucker out of their little happy world.

Jason raised both hands.

“He didn’t succeed.” Much as Danny had freaked out about it, Jason wasn’t gonna complain about things that hadn’t happened.

Too much like it actually happened every day, he’d never be done.

Oh. Maybe that was kinda why Danny had freaked out. That probably wasn’t good.

His personal revelation was dampened by Harley waving a hand easily.

“Nah nah nah, we’re not gonna break ‘im out tomorra. He’s gonna tell us what the fuck he was thinkin’, I’m gonna break Dent’s kneecaps, and Batsy’s gonna give a character statement an’ get ‘im released to me for community service.”

And if any of that didn’t work, they could still just break Croc out the next day. Jason knew the unspoken corollary.

Tucker’s eyebrows raised and he said the very stupidest thing that Jason had ever heard from a genius, and he’d seen Tim on 72 hours of no sleep.

“You know Batman?” He asked incredulously.

Harley stared at him for a long moment. Then snickered.

“Yeah, we know each other from work,” she said dryly, waving her fork, “we go way back.”

The assorted bats snickered to themselves and Tucker sunk back in his chair a little, grinning sheepishly around the table.

“Yeah… sorry.”

Sam rolled her eyes, arms folded as she frowned down the table. She clearly had a bigger question, which was probably fair for anyone who didn’t know the combined Harley-and-bats history.

“And you think Batman will do you a favour? He’s not exactly known to listen to reason,” she pointed out half sarcastically. Not that anyone in the room would argue.

There was a reason Jason loved her.

Harley weighed her up for a moment, then grinned, leaning forward.

“Y’know, kid, I don’t think we were introduced. There’s somethin’ real familiar about you,” she mused, folding her arms on the table and leaning over them, plate slowly nudged aside.

Sam smirked and shrugged. They were meeting a lot of new people these past couple days, but if she’d been doing the gala circuit her whole life?

Yeah, this probably wasn’t the worst. Harley was better than Jason had ever met at a party.

“Sam Manson. Friend of Jason’s through Danny,” she added with a nod to the empty seat still between her and Jason.

Harley beamed, hiking forward onto the table a little more.

“Oh, you’d be Ida’s granddaughter then?” She asked brightly, clearly pleased to have been right. “Your granny’s a real doll, sent me and Ivy on a real sweet vacation this week.”

Sam chuckled softly and nodded, giving Harley a half apologetic half cocky smile.

“Yeah, that’d be my fault. I’m not allowed to come to Gotham if there’s a chance Poison Ivy is in town,” she explained, fingers on her left hand tapping against her right arm.

Both of Harley’s brows went up.

“Oh? Are they scared somethin’ might happen to ya?” She asked, tone already very firmly suggesting she knew the answer.

So did most of the rest of the table, though Duke hadn’t actually heard the explanation last night. Not like he needed to, having met Sam for more than five minutes.

Sam didn’t disappoint. She gave another elegant half shrug, her smile turning fully dark.

“Oh, more the opposite. They think I’ll run off and join her if I see her,” she said innocently. Across the table, Tucker snorted most of a laugh.

A moment later Harley joined him, tossing her head back and laughing.

“Yeah, that sounds like Ida’s girl,” she agreed, wiping a dainty tear from her eye, “she was a real spitfire in her younger days, the stories she told Ivy when they were protestin’ together were wild.”

Sam was practically glowing with pride, and Jason had to admit that he would kinda like to meet her grandmother. He’d met her parents, and… well, maybe awesome skipped a generation.

Harley suddenly stopped, head cocking as she noticed something, a sly smile creeping across her face.

“So if they think you’ll run away with Ivy… whadda they think’ll happen if ya run into me?” She asked with a delicately studied innocence, examining her nails.

“Only good things,” Cass offered, grinning past Jason at Sam. Sam grinned back, giving Harley a shrug and a similarly innocent smile.

“Y’know, they’ve just never mentioned it. Clearly there’s no concerns there,” she agreed, and Jason snickered, raising his glass in a toast.

“None here,” he noted and Sam laughed, clinking her glass against his. Dick raised a hand, fighting a laugh.

“One concern for the integrity of Bruce’s skull?” He offered innocently, and laughed when Jason threw a napkin at him.

“If Bruce’s skull was gonna break it’d have done it years ago,” Steph opined as the voice of experience. Jason raised his glass to her too, but she was a little far to clink.

She grabbed hers up and raised it back anyway, and Sam filled the gap, clinking hers to Jason’s and then to Steph’s to pass it on.

“It’s good for him ta get his eggs scrambled,” Harley agreed from the other end of the table, raising her glass too, “and I’m gonna guess you did some percussive maintenance too that I’ll ask about later.”

“Bruce might still have a concussion,” Duke offered, not completely certain where he sat with this kind of joking, but the kid was new.

You had to watch Bruce try and kill himself going out on patrol with more bones broken than whole a couple times before you gave into his indestructibility.

Shit, maybe he should ask Danny if Bruce was liminal. For all the guy was technically a default human, Jason knew literal aliens with a better grasp on humanity.

And ghosts, now.

Harley gave him a nod anyway and patted his hand.

“I’ll aim low then sugar, don’t you fret. But to answer yer other question, Sam, Batman’s gonna get Waylon out for me cuz he doesn’t want ‘im in Arkham any more ‘n we do. Bats wants us all ta get better, and Waylon does best left alone,” she explained with a shrug.

“Until you leave him unsupervised and he teams up with Riddler?” Tim asked with a slight smile.

Jason shook his head, leaning forward on his arms too.

“He wouldn’t do it for no reason. He asked what I’d done to upset Two Face, but I can’t think of anything.” They didn’t even cross paths often.

Dent had taken Red Hood’s claim on Crime Alley as a given, learned quickly that Jason didn’t give a shit about playing nice, and minded his business.

“You sound like you know him pretty well,” Tucker said with a slight frown, and Jason shrugged.

Yeah, Tucker wasn’t in on the Robin thing yet. Luckily there was an easy answer.

“I grew up in Gotham. You guys keep coming back and you’ll get a feel for most of ‘em too.”

Tucker hesitated for a moment, probably thinking back to Amity and their own ghostly rogues. Then he nodded, settling back to poke at his mostly finished plate.

Tim still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t know Waylon the way Jason did. They’d never had the chance to talk beyond the usual Robin-and-Rogue.

Jason could prove his point tomorrow. Maybe bring Danny along.

And like the thought summoned him, Jason’s phone buzzed to a text from Danny.

‘DannyP: who tf is Constantine??👀👀🤣’

————

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[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 6 – Everything Happens in Its Own and Usually Most Inconvenient Possible Time

Chapter 1     Chapter 5

The gala was going better than anticipated.  Despite feeling like she stuck out like weed in a field of flowers, things seemed to be going well.  Marinette had talked with more people than she could remember and they all seemed to walk away happily and interested in her work except for a few pompous assholes who couldn’t keep their eyes off her growing chest.  Admittedly, she was showing more cleavage than she anticipated, but she was blaming that on the baby that was enlarging her chest already.

Luckily, she had Adrien to watch out for her and keep them from doing anything more than just look. More importantly, Tim seemed impressed with her designs for the gala and could pick out the outfits that were hers. That was two big checks for the night. The rest of her life might be going to hell, but at least this night was going smoothly.

Whereas she felt like she was an imposter in the ranks, Adrien seemed to blend into the crowd seamlessly. Laughing sensibly at the right times, sharing knowing looks that confused Marinette with the other party goers, smiling politely at the right bad jokes.  He led her to the right people to get to know and whispered in her ear the right things to say to them.

She watched Adrien flourish and felt a twinge of guilt.  This was the product of his dad.  She was benefitting from Gabriel’s abuse toward Adrien.  She grabbed Adrien’s arm to get his attention and looked up at him with sad eyes.  He gave her a soft smile and excused them politely from the conversation they were in. “It’s okay, Mari.  I’m okay,” he assured her.  He looked back out to the crowd.

“How about a fun one next?” he urged her.  

Marinette gave him a halfhearted smile and nodded.  If he could do this then so could she.  He was doing this for her.  She could hold up her end.  She nodded and smiled politely at people as she passed.  One woman lit up at her so Marinette stopped to talk to her, letting Adrien continue on without her.  After a very amusing conversation with a breath of fresh air named Selina Kyle, Marinette searched for Adrien in the crowd.  Luckily, he hadn’t wandered too far away.  She caught his attention and he turned to her with a wide smile.

“And this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  Marinette, this is Richard Grayson.”

Marinette looked over to the new man, still trying to keep all the names of people she had met already. There were too many names.  There was no way she was going to remember this new person’s name.  She looked in the new man’s eyes… familiar eyes and a familiar but strained smile. Why were those eyes familiar? “Fuck…” Marinette let out before she could stop herself.

Adrien froze.  Richard froze.  That name wasn’t right.  That definitely wasn’t the name he had given her.  Did he give her a fake name?  

“Uh, hi.” Dick offered with a strained smile.  “It’s nice to meet you. Dick Grayson.”  He wasn’t sure what their relationship was, but if she was in a relationship with Adrien, he wasn’t going to intentionally destroy it despite the twinge in his heart. That would explain the hasty exit from his apartment though.

“He is Bruce Wayne’s son,” Adrien gently reminded her, “Tim’s brother.”  

“Fuck!” Marinette groaned out louder. Tears were starting to appear in her eyes.  This could not be happening.  Not here.  Not now. She was not prepared for this conversation.  She was supposed to be networking for her job, for the partnership and her store. She did not have time for this!  Why now.  Why after all their searching and attempts to retrace her steps did it have to happen now?

He was Tim’s brother and Bruce Wayne’s son.  One of, if not the richest man in the world and the current holder of her exclusive contract.  Dick was going to hate her.  He was going to think she trapped him into this.  He was going to think she was a manipulative bitch who shouldn’t be allowed to raise children and take the baby away and never let her see it.  She would only get to see him or her or them whenever Richard took them out in public.  The baby was going to get a new mother and would call her ‘Maman’.  And what if that new mom didn’t like having a stepchild?  What if she didn’t love them like they deserved?  What if they thought Marinette didn’t want them?

“Are you okay?” Adrien asked quietly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Marinette exclaimed shaking her hands to release anxiety.  She could no longer breathe and tears were starting to gather in the corner of her eyes.

“Mari?” Adrien looked between Marinette and Richard a few times before a realization set in.  “Oh my God.  He said his name was Dick.  It’s him! It’s ladybug shirt guy!” He said with a smile.  “We found him!  I’m telling Chloe.  She is going to die.”

“No!” Marinette jumped at him to grab his phone, attracting the attention of the people around them. But at this point, Marinette no longer cared.  She had more important things to focus on.

“Well, I have more mingling to do and you,” he pushed Marinette toward Dick hard enough for her to stumble and Dick to reach out and steady her, “have some talking to do.  Good luck.  I won’t go too far.  Let me know if you need me… for anything...”  He looked at Marinette sincerely with his last statement before giving Dick a less friendly look.  “… anything at all.”

Marinette looked up at Dick through her lashes.  Her fear was radiating out of her and it made Dick want to wrap her up and hold her until she smiled.  “How… how have you been?”

Marinette looked around them noticing now close everyone was and a few people who were leaning back expressly to eavesdrop.  She eyed them warily and responded loudly enough for them to hear, “We haven’t caught up in a bit.  Let’s go somewhere and talk where the music isn’t so loud.”

Dick followed her eyes and nodded, leading her out of the ballroom and into the closed section of the manor.  He could feel the apprehension as she walked, making him nervous as well.  He didn’t know what was about to happen but he could tell it was significant.  He just didn’t know if it was good significant or bad significant.

“We should be good here. Nobody but family is allowed back here.” He looked around anxiously as if to confirm, but really it was just something for him to do, something to focus on besides her.  “I was hoping to talk to you after… after that night but realized I didn’t get your number.  I tried going back to the club to look for you, but...”

“It closed.  Yeah… I tried going back to the club, too.” Dick brightened up at that.  She had searched for him too.  It wasn’t just him that wanted to try for something more.  “I wanted to maybe just show up at your door, but I think I was still drunk when I left and…,” she scrunched up her face in uncertainty, “I saw all the weapons on the counter and when I heard you waking up in the bedroom, I just ran.  I didn’t pay attention to where I was.  And then I thought about the weapons and thought… maybe I shouldn’t.”

The realization hit Dick and he cursed under his breath.  He was going to kill Jason.  “My brother is paranoid, Jason not Tim, who you apparently know.  Living in Gotham is bad enough but he… we get targeted a lot so he… those were his weapons, not mine.  I swear.  None of them were mine and they normally aren’t even there, I just wouldn’t let them take them to the club,” he rushed out to try to assure her.  

Her eyes searched his. He held his breath praying she found what she was looking for, or not finding it, depending on the question she was trying to answer.  Whichever answer let him talk to her again, he hoped she found it.  After a few moments, she must have found some answer because she gave him a weak smile and nodded slightly.  Dick let out the breath he had been holding.  She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but Dick would take it. He could work with it if she gave him a chance.  He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.  Now he had a chance, what was he going to do with it?  “So… how have you been?”

“Pregnant,” Marinette answered quickly, instantly regretting not saying it more sensitively, easing him into the realization.  She had freaked out, it stood to reason that he would as well.

Dick’s eyes widened in shock and his breath shortened.  He looked down to her belly and back up to her face.  A look of panic was plastered on his face.  He was not ready.  How did it even happen?  He thought they had used precautions.  And he had provided the condom and put it on so it wasn’t as though she could have sabotaged anything.  Holy shit! He was going to be a dad.  How was he going to balance that?  How was he going to be a dad and Nightwing? Shit!  He couldn’t take care of himself.  How was he supposed to take care of a child?  He was pretty sure they ate more than cereal.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette rushed out seeing his whole body going into shock.  “I’m so very, very sorry!  I swear I don’t expect anything.  I don’t… I didn’t… This wasn’t on purpose.  I swear!  I wasn’t trying to get pregnant.” Tears were now freely falling down her cheeks and marring her dress.  Thank God she had waterproof mascara but the water stains were still making their mark.

“How…”

She chuckled mirthlessly. “Did you know semen leaks out before the… end?  Cuz’ I didn’t.” She wiped tears away as she spoke.  “Or rather I did, I just didn’t think it was enough to do anything.  But, if you’re truly lucky, that’s enough.  So if you wait to put a condom on until just before… the end, you can still get pregnant.”

“And you… you’re sure…” He didn’t know how to ask the question tactfully.

She drew a sharp breath and looked down wiping away a few more tears.  “Yeah.  I… I broke up with my boyfriend a little under a year ago.  There… um… there hasn’t been anyone else since then.”  

He nodded dumbly.  That was pretty conclusive.  Unless there was a sudden case of immaculate conception going on, that was his baby.  “Okay.”

She turned her eyes to him, her expression somber.  “I didn’t… I don’t expect you to do anything, not participation, not child support, nothing. I just… I thought you deserved to know even if you don’t want to be involved and I understand if this is too much for you.”

Dick looked up at her in surprise.  She was giving him an out.  She wasn’t expecting him to be a dad and help take care of them.  But for some reason, that realization only made his heart clench tighter.  Did he want an out?  Did he want to miss out on his child’s upbringing?  All of their firsts?  Their first step.  Their first summersault.  Their first word.  Their first laugh.  Their first breath.  

He didn’t.  He didn’t want to miss out on those things.  He pulled himself out of his spiral to see Marinette starting to turn away to leave.  He reached out and grabbed her hand before she could get too far away and pulled her into his chest, hugging her tightly.  “I want to be involved.  I want to be there.  I want to help.”  She froze for a few seconds before hugging him back just as strongly.  Her crying increased in his arms and he held her through it.  He wouldn’t let her go through any part of this alone, not anymore.

“I don’t know what you need, but I want to help provide it for you and… and our baby,” he said gently, pulling away just enough to wipe away her tears.  

She nodded at him, turning her eyes up to match his.  Dick felt his chest tighten.  Her eyes were glassy with tears but still gorgeous and captivating.  He moved the hand wiping the tears to cup her face. His thumb gently stroked her cheek. He leaned down toward her but her hand clasped over her lips before his lips could reach them, blocking his way. Her eyes bugged out and she ran to the trash can before throwing up.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, collapsed on the floor next to the trash can.  “And morning sickness has officially begun.  And it’s early.  Just so much luck.”  She looked up at him with an apologetic smile.  “Sorry you had to see that.”

Dick chuckled lightly, “Well, I did want to be there for all the firsts.  Come on,” he gently grabbed her hands to help her up, “let’s get you some water to rinse out your mouth and cleaned up a bit.  If you want to stay, I’d love to escort you around.  If you’d like to go home and rest, I’d love to take you home.  If you want to go somewhere and talk, I’d love to take you wherever you want.  But either way, can I get your phone number… and last name?  I want to help figure things out with you.  Maybe… if you’re interested… maybe go on a first date?  If you want to try for a relationship…. I mean… I understand if you don’t want to risk…”  

His stuttering cut off when she started giggling.  He looked up to match her eyes, a look of hope finally finding their way back into them. “I would really like that, too. And it’s Dupain-Cheng.  Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  It’s nice to officially meet you, Dick Grayson.”

Chapter 7

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje

[darkspellmaster]

What are your thoughts on the whole Tim Drake story so far?

I'm mixed honestly.

On the one hand, I'm fine with Tim being bi, nothing wrong with that and it can cover a lot of ground if you have the right writer to work with it. However, I feel like, on the other hand, the choice of writer right now for him in regard to YJ and for his Solo series might not be the best.

My issue mostly stems from the same problem I have with the break up of Peter and MJ. Steph and Tim have been connected so long that it's very hard to see him dating others. This holds true for when the two of them broke up before and he ended up engaged to another woman. While I'm okay with them splitting, same with Dick and Babs, I personally am not liking the way it's being handled due to how OOC Steph is. She's kind of jealous, and has shown that in the past with the situation where Tim was with another girl. So why she's excited and shit is beyond me.

I need to see more of what she's going to do to figure out where this is going. Tim has such a long history and connection to so many characters that it feels like DC made a huge goof when they didn't transition the YJ gen into more solid roles before bringing in Damian and co. Don't get me wrong I love my young teams, it's just that it feels like a lot of the issue with Tim's story needs to be expanded.

I'm happy so far with him in Batman and Detective, and the focus there on building back his past to define him more against Jason and Dick. Looks like they're giving Damian Magic to make him different as well, so I'm all for that. I just want Tim to be treated as fairly as Dick is and how Jason is being given a fair shake now.

Part of the issue too is that there were also WAY better male characters to hook Tim up with, and ones that made WAY more sense.

Danny Temple, for example, aka Kid Kobra, was his room mate and Tim went to hell and back to rescue him. There was more chemistry between them than him and Bernard, and Danny had a way more interesting back story that could have played more into Tim learning about himself.

There was also Harper's younger brother, who said he had a crush on Tim. I mean, right there. You can bring in Blue Jay more and Cullen could play a larger role than he is right now. Which is just dating a member of the Royal Flush Gang apparently? Maybe? I'm not sure what they're doing with him.

I would say even Duke, but I don't know if DC would let that happen. So then you look outside of the Batfamily and you have one hell of a list if the Editors will allow the use of them.

Airwave -Aka Hal Jordan Jr. Hal 'Green Lantern' Jordan's nephew who basically admitted to liking guys to his uncle. And Hal told him to go get help learning to be a hero from, of all people, Batman.

Hartley Rathway -Aka the Pied Piper. I'm not sure how old he is in earth Prime, but assuming early 20s, it could be a fun look at how Tim could deal with someone like that, if they let the cross over happen.

Francisco Gracia -Son of Stefano Gracia. He's a classmate of Steph and has ties to Roulette.

Hero Cruz -one of the Dial H for hero characters. He knows Conner and the titans.

Joel Weinberg -aka Huston, a young hero who was trying to keep his family together after his parents died.

Kid Apollo -Hey look it's from Gen 13 and could be a fun ride if someone wanted to take it.

Miguel Montez -current owner of the dial H for Hero device. Also friends with the Titans.

Miguel Barragan -aka Bunker. Of all the characters to not use for this, why not use Bunker! He and Tim already have a friendship, he's not doing anything recently outside of the Teen Titans thing, and if anyone can help Tim navigate all of this it would be Miguel because he's been through a lot.

Raymond Terrill  -aka The Ray. Ray worked with Tim when he was in YJ so I would say old friends could rekindle something.

Rich Foley -You want to bring the Dakotaverse more into DC, you have Tim date Virgil's best friend.

Terrence Berg -Bring back Terry from Green Lantern. He's the same age as Tim, and is blonde too. He's already an established character and again would connect the bats and the Lanterns.

There are so many characters out there. I mean, you really want to throw people for a loop, have him date Jon.

Like I said I feel mixed. I'm happy that Tim's moving forward with stories and that his character is being explored more. But I just wish that some of it would be with a writer that I feel more confident about, and with a partner that was more in line with what we know about Tim as a character.

Again no hate for Bernard, I just don't find him interesting.