#batfam misquotes

[thesulkycroissant]

As a person who has, in fact, played D&D with my siblings before, and more specifically DMed for my siblings, the chaos I envision unfolding in a Batfam session is a source of pure delight.

Damian furious because he rolled too low to hit WITH A SWORD!! "I would not have missed, I have trained since birth!"

Dick arguing he ought to be able to make an Acrobatics check for everything; any time he is denied, he offers to demonstrate that it is physically possible and then demonstrates no matter what anyone else says.

Duke is playing a wild magic sorcerer and is DELIGHTED by the wild magic table.

Jason took the character trait about constantly quoting or misquoting your sacred text. Everyone quiets down to hear him every time he says one bc invariably it is always something Alfred has said.

Bruce SO EARNESTLY trying to play a lawful good Paladin even though everyone told him NOT TO DO IT.

Cass rolls for the monsters :)

(Tim is DMing cuz I said so.)

[batfam-aus]

dick: damian what do you want for your birthday

tim: don’t say sword

jason: or any bladed weapon

tim: or any throwable weapon

jason: weaponry is out

tim: that really covers our bases

damian: excellent. i can practice with weapons of opportunity

damian: i would like a cheese grater, 1000 ball bearings, and a can of hairspray

dick: points for creativity i’ll see what i can do

jason: oh here we go

cass: i want to join. may i also have a cheese grater

tim: we’re all going to die

stephanie (also holding a cheese grater): OF FUN

[supersecretyoungjusticeaccount]

On their way to their first Wayne family dinner as a throuple...

Roy: What do you even bring to a mansion that's full of bats and gnomes?

Jason: An escape plan.

Kori: *nodding sagely*

[dickgraysontrashcan]

tim: uh oh, you didn't pass the vibe check.

black mask: the what?

jason; shooting him: NOT A VIBE.

[supersecretyoungjusticeaccount]

He has the charisma for it

Dick: I've been involved in a number of cults, both as a leader and a follower. You have more fun as a follower but make more money as a leader. Jason: What the fuck. Steph, with a notebook in hand, in awe: There is still so much I don't know about you.

[apinchofsanity]

Batfam at Wayne Galas

Kid Dick Grayson: Doing somersaults, backflips, handstands and juggling hors d'oeuvres to entertain the other bored kids at the event.

Adult Dick Grayson: It is significantly less cute when you break an entire catering table attempting to do a triple back pike whilst slllightly tipsy on champagne.

Barbara Gordon: Egging Dick Grayson on with his dumbassery because its good internet content.

Kid Jason Todd: Baiting dumb rich people to donate more to the charities because put your money where your mouth is bitches.

Adult Jason Todd: Is legally dead. Still attends under an alias because free bar and informing egotistical white men that they're misquoting classic literature in a heavy crime alley accent is a better high than opium.

Kid Tim Drake: Well behaved, incredibly polite and only speaks when spoken too. A picture perfect Drake industries heir.

Teen Tim Drake: Always found asleep underneath the catering table, staff are used to it and know to ignore the loud snoring.

Damian Wayne: Vividly imagines the demise of 95% of the attendee's, especially the older women who try to pinch his cheeks. Stole a dog once cause someone had it trapped in a small handbag whilst it was clearly visibly distressed and dehydrated.

Cass Cain: Loves dancing with Stephanie and Bruce and any other members of the batfam that are available and or willing.

Steph Brown: Only attends because it makes Cass happy and the dresses are pretty AF!!! "It has POCKETS BRUCE!!! do you know how many shrimp I can fit in here??" "wha? no Steph! don't put shrimp in your dress! we have shrimp at home!!" "too laaaate" :3

Duke Thomas: Nervous and quiet but whichever other batkid is in attendance looks after him and makes sure he has a good time.

[jupitermelichios]

fic titles meme

I wasn’t tagged by @morethanonepage​ but I’m doing it anyway.

Look at the most recent 20 (or however many!) fanwork titles on your AO3 account and answer the questions below.

Highschool Never Ends

A Brief History of Gotham City

Together

The Anatomy of a Robin

Serial Fiction

Leprechaun

Mechanic

Halogen

Popsicle

What did the fox say?

Known Me Better

Of Stray Cats & Sharp Suits

Human, Or Something Like It

The Narrow Edge

Pretty Boy

The Light That’s Coming In The Morning

Insert Hell Pun Here

Two Things In Life

The Gaslight Saga

Three Droids Walk Into A Bar

1. How many are you happy with?

I’d say most of them, honestly. Human or something like it I’m genuinely proud of, and the Gaslight Saga still makes me snicker (it’s a batfam twilight au notfic, so the awful pun is definitely the right tone).

2. How many are…not great?

6-9 were written for an event, and I made a concious choice that they would have one-word titles that I wouldn’t think about too hard, because picking titles is really hard and I wanted to get them up as quickly as possible, so they’re not good but I don’t feel too bad about it. What Did The Fox Say is an objectively terrible title, but at the same time I feel like it fits the tone of the fic pretty well.

3. How many did you scramble for at the last minute?

Most of them, honestly. Pretty Boy got named literally as I was uploading it, because titles are hard. Highchool Never Ends I didn’t decide on until pretty much the upload stage, but honestly, it was never going to be called anything else. Insert Hell Pun Here was supposed to have an actual name, but I wrote it as part of the@wipbigbang ​ and they put the placeholder title on the artist sign-up sheet and it just kind of stuck. I even ended up working a reference to it into the fic itself.

4. How many did you know before you started writing/creating, or near the beginning?

Human or Something Like It was named fairly early in the writing process, as was A Brief History of Gotham (although that doesn’t really count because it is in fact just a brief history of gotham, so it’s not so much a name as it is a description). Generally I don’t have titles until very near the end of the process, although I’m working on two unposted WIPs which have actual titles at the moment which exciting.

5. How many are quotes from songs or poems?

Just the three; The Light That’s Coming In The Morning comes from the folk song Sing John Ball, and I still to this day don’t know why it feels appropriate for that fic, but it does. Highschool Never Ends and What Did The Fox Say are both pretty obvious!

6. How many are other quotes?

The Narrow Edge comes from a Cicero quote (”so near is truth to falsehood that a wise man would do well not to trust himself on the narrow edge”) because in as much as there’s a theme at all to it, the theme is false presentation of the self.

Know Me Better is from the Voyage of the Dawntreader, it’s Aslan talking about Jesus, because the fic is about the Pevensie children finding their faith(s) in the real world.

Two Things In Life is from the famous quote “there are two things in life that are inevitable, death and taxes”, but it’s kind of a riff on it because it’s a crackfic about the Malfoy family getting tv liscence fee demands, which as any british person will tell you are far more inescapable and ubiquitous than mere death.

And finally the anatomy of a robin is a misquote but I haven’t been able to work out which of the many books called ‘the anatomy of a ...’ was the original. Possibly it was the anatomy of a murder?

7. Which best reflects the plot of the story/content of the fanwork?

I mean ‘a brief history of gotham city’ is about as on the nose as you can get. Aside from that it’s probably ‘human or something like it’, because it’s a story about a cyborg and a deeply damaged teenager talking about what it means to be a person.

8. Which best reflects the theme of the story?

Despite the fact that I was deliberately going for the easy pickings, title wise, I have a real soft spot for ‘Hallogen’, because I think the simplicity of the title reflects the starkness of the fic. Anatomy of a Robin is pretty good thematically, since the fic is all about what Robin means to Dick, and all the ways that’s different from what Batman and Nightwing mean. The Narrow Edge and Human or Something Like It I’ve talked about already.

Pretty Boy doesn’t relfect the themes of the story but I kind of like that about it, because it’s a title that seems like it tells you exactly what you’re getting, and then you open the fic and find it’s actually a lot of talking and character work mixed in with all the fucking and that’s not really what you ordered, which is pretty much how Midnighter’s feeling about his role in the story and I like that parrallel.

9. Which best reflects the character voice of the story/pov of the fanwork?

Human or something like it is a title Tim Drake would definitely approve of, and Insert Hell Pun Here is actually said by one of the characters (I think it’s Xander but I actually can’t remember) so I guess that reflects the voice pretty well!

10. Which is your favourite title?

Oh gods that’s a hard one. Um, honestly? Probably the Gaslight Saga. It’s such a stupid pun and I’m genuinely proud of it. After that it’s probably Anatomy of a Robin. Probably my favourite fic title I’ve ever written predates this list, and it’s ‘things lost to the fire’ which is a weird nothing of a fic about Cap & Widow wrestling with the legacy of WWII which I’m genuinely proud of. I think what I’ve learned today is that I like my fic titles stark and kind of depressing.

I’m tagging @irolltwenties @starcityrebels @gealach-in-a-misty-world @kittyaugust @kiseiakhun

I’m really bad at remembering which of my tumblr mutuals are also people I follow on AO3 unless the username is the exact same, so if any writers see this and think it would be fun consider yourselves tagged!

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [11/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #haunting #paranormal investigator

First Chapter

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

Author’s Note: I decided to upload this today instead of tomorrow as I have a final paper due Friday and if I'm gonna concentrate on finishing it and not writing fanfic, I need to put this up now :P Enjoy the BatFam feels.

________________________________________________________________

 A day later and Jason is still stewing in anger—and, if he’s being honest—a bit of hurt. Even after reuniting, even after listening to what Jason had to say, and trying to get him to come home—Bruce still can’t be convinced to deal with the Joker.

Or at the very least stand aside and let Jason do it.

It’s like he’s trying to protect my non-existent virtue or some kind of innocence I never really had.

Does Bruce even actually remember him anymore? Or has he built up some false memory in his head that’s turned the boy Jason was into some clone of Dick?

The obvious, adult way of finding out would be to drive over to the manor and go for Round Two in confronting Bruce, but that’s a journey he’s not ready to take yet. Especially since the emotionally stunted man child that is the Dark Knight might take that as Jason coming to grovel for forgiveness, which just…no.

It’s decided. Jason will sit and sulk in his office and pretend Bruce and all of his Bat-drama doesn’t exist. He has work to do, anyhow.

The phone rings and Jason smirks.

“Like I said,” he tells himself smugly and picks it up, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. “Beyond Investigations, Victor Shelley speaking.”

“First of all, you have a really warped sense of humor choosing that as your civilian identity,” a familiar voice tells him, and Jason’s stomach flips a little as he nearly slides off his chair.

“Well, if it isn’t my esteemed former stalker,” he drawls, then winces because it’s not exactly his best line. “You can’t tell me it’s not funny, in the gallows kind of way.”

“If you wanted gallows, I’m surprised you didn’t go with Vlad Stoker,” Tim Drake remarks.

“That would be cliché. And Stoker’s overrated. Also, he once demanded all the gay writers be imprisoned, which ain’t cool,” Jason replies with an easy enjoyment. “But I doubt you’re calling to talk early horror literature with me. Gotta say, it’s the first time I’ve ever waited more than two days for someone to call me when I give them my number.”

Shit. That was a little more flirting than he intended.

“That leads to second of all,” Tim says, either missing the innuendo or ignoring it completely. “Care to explain why, after you asked me not to say anything to B about you being here, you ratted me out to him?”

That’s…not what he was expecting. Jason sits up, suddenly serious. “Ratted you out? What are you talking about?”

“He came back home after that thing downtown with Freeze yesterday completely shaken because he ran into you, and apparently you let it slip that I knew you were back and didn’t tell anyone.”

There’s more than a little irritation in Tim’s voice there, and Jason’s heart picks up a bit in worry. He thinks back to the encounter the night before, trying to figure out when he would have outed Tim. He can’t think of anything.

Then he remembers his parting words.

The blood rushes to his face.

If Bruce figured out he was talking about Tim with such a throwaway comment, he worries what else he might have inferred.

Don’t think about it too closely. Worry about putting Tim in his crosshairs.  

He groans. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Apparently I should have been the one asking for a week’s grace,” Tim goes on dryly.

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking,” Jason tells him. “Talkin’ to B always gets my blood pressure up, and then my mouth just starts to run.”

“No kidding.”

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

There’s a pause, and then, “No more than normal. A couple of years ago that sort of thing would have really messed with my head, but these days I can deal.”

“What happened a couple of years ago?”

Tim pauses again, and even though Jason can’t sense auras or ghosts through telephone lines, he’s pretty sure that the dark aura constantly surrounding the younger man is behind that.

“Let’s just say I learned that Brue can be myopic about certain things,” Tim says at last. “Either he’s entirely focused on what’s right in front of him, or some arbitrary future end game. He doesn’t really…absorb the things that happen between those two points.”

Jason blinks. “That’s a scary kind of accurate.”

“That’s what I do. I think and I know things.”

Jason can’t hold back a scoff.

“Did you…did you just misquote Game of Thrones?”

Tim lets out a somewhat startled laugh. “I guess I did. Totally unintentional, I promise. Although, you get points for catching it.”

“Points for what? Is there a prize?”

 “Even if there was, I’d be keeping it. I’m still ticked off at you for telling on me to B.”

“And I still feel bad about that. I owe you a drink.”

No, no you don’t. No drinks, no nothing. Off-limits, remember?

“Still not old enough to drink, Jason,” Tim replies, voice sounding less irritated and weary and more…amused? Fond even?

Then he hangs up, leaving Jason staring at the receiver of his phone in puzzled frustration.

“This isn’t going to end well for me, is it?”

“No,” Sheila tells him from where she’s lingering across the room, “it’s not.”

Jason lets his head fall onto his desk.

With the ice now broken with Tim and Bruce (or at least as broken as it can get given the latter’s inability to process anything resembling emotions), Jason pretty knows his days of privacy are likely at an end.

He completely expects the requisite visitations of various Family members who will no doubt have been told he’s alive.

Both the ones I knew and the one I didn’t…

If he weren’t pretending indifference, he would have expected Dick to be the first to show up, all passion and anger. He doesn’t have many memories of his predecessor-slash-older-brother-figure where he wasn’t furious about something—almost always Bruce related. To Jason, he only seemed to have two settings: coddling and wanting to pick a fight.

Jason’s not sure which of those he wants to encounter just now.

Turns out his intuition about Dick being his first visit is completely off.  

Instead, he wakes one night from a dead sleep by a sense of presence, both physical and spectral.

There’s a kid standing at the edge of his futon, swathed in Robin’s colors but with the aura of a predator lying in wait. He can’t be more than twelve, and there’s just something about the set of his shoulders and clench of his jaw that screams Bruce.

He’s also not alone.

Outside the open window that the kid obviously used to break in, a ghostly figure in a voluminous green robe looms, hissing imprecations at Jason’s wards from the decapitated head it holds in its hands.

Jason blinks, intrigue cutting through his sleep-dulled senses. Considering the kid is Talia’s, he obviously has some League of Assassins training. Given that, Jason would have expected there to be a lot more ghosts following the kid around. Either he hasn’t killed very many people beyond the one by the window, or the ones he has didn’t leave anything unfinished.

Either way, this brat’s dangerous.

“You know who I am?” Robin challenges although it’s more a statement of fact.

“Chip off the old block is what you are,” Jason grumbles, sitting up—slowly, in case the hard-looking kid thinks he’s about to try something. He’d rather not get into another Wayne beatdown so soon after his encounter with Bruce. “Did he actually teach you the menacing-people-in-the-dark thing, or is it genetic?”

“What is your purpose for returning to Gotham?” the boy demands, ignoring the question.

“Best chili dogs in the world,” Jason shoots back, reaching for the small table beside his fold-out bed and the carton of cigarettes there.

“Stow your flippant remarks, Todd, I will have my answer whether you give it voluntarily or after I’ve loosened a few of your teeth.”

“Big words for someone probably still losing their own baby teeth. What are you, six?”

“I won’t tolerate any attempts to shove your way back into Father’s life,” the boy insists. “We already have one failure lingering about where he shouldn’t be, no need for a second.” He pauses, tilts his head to one side, and his mouth pulls into a cold smirk. “Or rather, you were the first, weren’t you?”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You know there’s a headless guy in a green curtain following you around, right? I’d think really hard about what B considers a failure before throwing that word at other people.”

The kid’s mouth goes white around the edges—touchy subject, apparently—and moves into a crouch like he’s about to dive across the room. He pauses though, fingers touching his hear, and then scowls.

“That Daddy calling you out for missing curfew?” Jason prods.

“This isn’t over!” the kid snaps, and then like he’s making a point, whips a Batarang at Jason’s face.

By the time Jason’s reached up to catch it, the brat and his ghost have vanished.

“Well, that was fun,” Jason mutters, bemused and confident he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

He spends the rest of the night and early morning first checking emails and then researching. John sent him a bunch of information on kodoku, the technique Jason couldn’t remember in conjunction with the thing attracting negative energy to Tim.

It’s not exactly what he was thinking of, but even if it doesn’t help him figure out that conundrum, it might offer an inkling or two of how to deal with the ever-present Joker problem.

Need to read up on it more before I can know for sure.

His stomach growls and he decides to table it for now. There’s a 24-hour breakfast place down the street actually does bangers and mash, which he’s been craving since leaving London.

Instead, there’s a knock at the door.

Guess I’m putting off breakfast for a bit longer. Oh well. Potential client.

Jason forces himself to put on a normal, welcoming face and goes to open the door.  

What he doesn’t expect to find is a certain English butler standing in the shitty hallway just outside his office, with a bulky canvas bag in his arms and a disapproving look on his face that only just falters as their eyes meet.

It’s as if the air has been punched out of Jason’s lungs because if there’s anyone he has missed than anyone else since he’s been away, it’s Alfred.

“Master Jason,” the older man says, somehow managing to keep his voice from wavering, and god, he sounds the same. “I am sure in instilled at least a rudimentary etiquette into you as a boy. Therefore, you can imagine my disappointment upon learning you have been in Gotham for several weeks now and did not come to call at the manor.”

Jason can’t hold back the slightly hysterical chuckle at that, because trust Alfred to act like he’s been on some kind of extended vacation, instead of six feet under and insane. Yet, it doesn’t feel as dismissive or repressing as it would from Bruce.

“You know me, Alf,” he says through a suddenly dry mouth. “That stuff never took.”

“So it would seem.”

They exchange looks, both sizing up the other and then Alfred raises an eyebrow. Jason shakes his head like a sleepwalker and indicates the older man should come in.

Alfred moves smoothly across the threshold of the tiny office, frowning at the disarray (and mostly at the futon).

“Given the fact you’ve only recently, er, moved in, I thought it best to arrive with provisions.”

He sets the paper bag down on Jason’s desk and removes a box containing a hot plate, a kettle and what appears to be a package of tea. Though his back is turned, there’s a tension in his shoulders and a minor tremor that, when Jason cranes his head, he realizes are from shaking hands.

When Alfred turns around, Jason can’t hold back from reaching over and enveloping him in a hug.

It’s so different from the awkward thing with Bruce, and even though Alfred has never been the hugging type, he holds Jason just as tightly.

They stay like that for several moments, before Alfred speaks again, his voice tense like he’s speaking around a lump in his throat. “You have certainly grown into your various limbs, my boy.”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess I did…”

Jason tells Alfred everything.

He doesn’t skip any of the details the way he did with Tim and, to an extent, with Bruce. Because the fact is, he doesn’t know Tim, not really, and he knows Bruce too well. Alfred won’t look at him with pity or as something damaged; there’s pain in the way he watches Jason, but also an overwhelming and unquestionable relief.

Alfred isn’t one to cry, but his eyes gleam wetly as Jason relates how he woke in his coffin and the trial of digging himself out.

“I didn’t remember it for a while,” he admits. “Mostly it’s what comes back in nightmares. I guess it’s so clear because it’s the only thing that happened to me for another year. I was in a coma for about as long.”

“And no one knew who you were,” Alfred murmurs dully. “Everyone thought you were already dead.”

“…yeah.”

“My dear boy…if we had known…”

“Can’t change the past, Alf,” Jason shrugs, trying to play it off. “And even if you had known, I wasn’t me for a long time. Wouldn’t have wanted you to go through that.”

“And yet…somehow, you rallied,” Alfred says, determined. “You recovered.”

“I guess you could say that,” Jason says with a bitter twist of the mouth. “Not sure people would call seeing ghosts ‘recovered’.” He exhales. “I do see ‘em, Alf—all the time. I didn’t know what it was I the beginning, and…that made things harder. I was so out of it; I couldn’t tell when I was talking to someone alive or someone dead. Everyone at the hospitals thought I was insane. Bet you can guess what happened next.”

“Master Timothy…was reluctant to tell me when I asked,” the old man admits. “I’m astounded anyone in the system would have thought Arkham of all places was the appropriate place for you.” He clenches his fists together, no doubt imagining using them on whoever made that particular decision. “But Mr. Constantine, he rescued you?”

“Yeah,” Jason leans back, crossing his arms. “If he hadn’t shown up, I’d still be rotting away there. It was completely by chance, too. An old mate of his called in a favor with him, wanted to prove his sister was possessed and not bat-shit crazy.” Alfred shoots him a reprimanding look and Jason shrugs. “Sorry. Anyway, turns out she was crazy. John was keen to get out of there as soon as possible and happened to pass my room on the way out—he heard me talking to one of my many spectral roommates. He could sense the energy and when he went to look, he could see ‘em too.”

“And thus discovered that your supposed insanity was not quite so clear-cut,” Alfred determines, looking a mite triumphant.

“Not exactly. I’d been driven almost beyond the point of no return by then. If I’d been there much longer, it’d have been too late. But John could tell I was a medium. He decided I wasn’t supposed to be there and busted me out—then decided it’d be dangerous to let me wander around on my own like that. Been with him ever since. Three years of trying to heal what that asshat clown did to my brain and train myself not to lose it when I get rushed by a stampede of dead people.”

“Then I can only be grateful to him,” Alfred says. “Should you speak to Mr. Constantine in the near future, do tell him he will always have a place to stay at the manor should he need it.”

Jason laughs. “I don’t see him coming out this way any time soon. And I doubt B would be open to that arrangement.”

“You let me worry about Master Bruce. As for you—is there any point in reminding you that you also have a place to stay should you tire of this…urban setting?”

“This is my home, Alf,” Jason replies, at least halfway apologetic. “The manor might have...become that if I’d been there longer. Maybe.” He spares a moment’s thought for the little boy that wanted nothing more than to become Batman when he grew up. “But not now. I’m too—I’ve got my own mission now.”

Alfred nods, mouth turned downward. Jason tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the sad gleam in his eye.

“In the hope that your mission is not so all-consuming as Master Bruce’s, I shall still keep a guestroom at the ready. I…suspect returning to your old room would harm more than heal.”

And this is why Jason always loved Alfred. He gets it. Even when he’s hoping for the impossible.

“Guess I can live with that,” Jason says.

 “I do expect you to call for dinner at some point in the future. Perhaps not until you’re more settled. But surely you can sacrifice an hour or two for a pot roast dinner.”

Jason’s mouth immediately waters.

“Oh, that’s playing dirty, old man,” he tells him seriously.

“Having lived in Gotham this long, it’s hardly a surprise that I, too, can affect nefariousness when the occasion calls for it.” There’s a buzzing sound and Alfred digs into his pocket for his mobile phone and then heaves a sigh in a very familiar way. “Master Damian’s school. I’m afraid I must attend to this.”

“Ten o’clock and he’s already in trouble,” Jason whistles. “Beating my old record, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Alfred agrees seriously. He stands then, looks like he wants to hug Jason again but manages to keep control of himself this time. “Seeing you again is a gift, Master Jason. I hope you will allow me to impose on your hospitality again in the future?”

“You’re welcome here any time,” Jason says, warm and sincere. “I’m…it’s really good to see you again, Alf.”

The old man nods then continues to gaze at Jason a few beats longer, as if to make sure he really is seeing him, and then heads for the door. Jason sees him out, watches him until he vanishes around the corner, and then sags heavily against the doorpost to his office.

A bone-deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with sleep deprivation washes over him.

“'Stay under the radar’, I said,” he mutters to himself. “'Don’t let the Family know I’m here'. That was the plan. There was a reason for the plan…”

A reason that was supposed to guard against an estranged father and attractive replacement and loving butler.

(Well, to be fair, he didn’t know that ‘attractive replacement’ was on his list, but it clearly should have been.)

At least I got the really hard reunions out of the way. Except for Barbie, but I doubt she’d drag herself up a flight of stairs just to see me. Might be able to avoid that one a bit longer…

Honestly, he's kind of afraid of having to look Barbara Gordon in the eyes. There's so much pain between them, all caused by the same evil.

As it turns out, Jason’s next visitor is somehow more overwhelming. Or at least starts out that way.

He’s shuffling through the hallway to his door with a bag of take-out that evening, and suddenly the air becomes cold and suffocating. Jason winces, tries to breathe slow and measured against the cold.

“Whoever you are, can you just…stay where you are for a minute?” he grunts, fumbling with his keys to jimmy the door open. Silence is the only response, but he takes that as acquiescence.

Well, that’s rare. A creepy stalker that actually listens.

He practically falls into the office, the constricted sensation in his lungs vanishing as soon as he crosses the threshold.

Wards are still working. Good.

“Okay, you can come in now,” he says, putting his groceries on his desk and turning around.

He almost does a double-take.

The person that glides into his office is a small Asian girl, maybe an inch or two shorter than Tim, and deceptively dainty looking. Deceptive, because Jason can see the ghosts crowding the hallway behind her, clawing at the doorway and keening and cursing at her in a myriad of languages.

“How in the hell does someone that looks like you have that big a body count?” he asks, halfway between impressed and horrified.

The girl’s face remains blank, but her eyes skitter away, as if in shame. Jason immediately feels like a tool.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…you’re just a kid.”

“Older than you,” she tells him in clear but accented English. She cocks her head to one side, studying him in a way that is almost as invasive as any of the mind-readers he met while working for John. And then she smiles and says, “Little brother.”

Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. Jason blinks.

“…What.”

She points to herself. “Cassandra. Wayne.”

“Wayne,” he repeats, and then makes the connection and snorts. “Of course. Most people collect stamps. B collects orphans.” He wanders over to his desk and sits down heavily. “What’d he bring you in for? Me, it was boosting tires off the Batmobile.”

Cassandra Wayne’s eyes widen in surprise and then sparkle with amusement and delight.

“So, what brings you here? Come to stare at the clan screw-up?”

“Curious,” she tells him.

“About?”

“They said you see…differently,” she says.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s…comforting,” she says, hesitating on the word like she’s not sure it’s the right one.

“Why’s that?”

“I see different too.”

Jason eyes her, then the myriad ghosts lingering beyond the words. He nods, serious. “I bet you do.”

She smiles at him.

He kind of can’t help be charmed by her, despite the vicious insults being hurled at her by her ghostly entourage.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Close that door so I can hear myself think, and you can stay for supper. I’ve got too much for just me.” He nods at the bags which contain what was supposed to be both tonight’s meal and tomorrow’s lunch. “Not sure if you eat souvlaki, but—”

“I eat anything,” she replies and sits in one of the chairs by his desk.

“Same here,” Jason agrees, handing her one of the Styrofoam containers. “Just promise me you won’t eat it with a fork and knife.”

She makes a face. “I am not Bruce.”

“Thank the gods for small miracles…”

To Be Continued

________________________________________________________________

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[queensilver]

Dick: Did he trick you into learning the best revenge is living well?

Damian: What? No! We beat the sh*t out of a bunch of rifraff.

Art by @lindatart

[batfam-aus]

damian: and this is my tokay gecko. his name is jason

jon: after your brother?

damian: their call is said to sound like “tokay”. or “fuck you”

damian: they are also known for their ferocious bite. they’re capable of ripping off chunks of human flesh

jon: then WHY ARE YOU HOLDING HIM IN YOUR BARE HANDS

damian: after months of consistent effort i have tamed jason. all you need is to respect the gecko’s space and teach it that you mean it no harm. it’s difficult work, but rewarding

damian: the same is true of my brother jason. observe:

jon, peering over the banister: ?

jason: hey hellspawn FUCK YOU

damian: as you can see, even his call is the same as that of a tokay gecko

[batfam-aus]

- batboys are at a noisy mcdonalds after a long patrol. silverware is clattering, people are chattering -

tim: [bees buzzing in his head]

tim: [mental bees intensifying]

tim: ALRIGHT THATS IT! SHUT THE FUCK UP! shut up!!!! I AM TIRED OF HEARING

[restaurant falls silent and everyone stares at tim]

tim: i… am sitting down ._.

dick: what’s going on tim-tam are you okay

tim: it’s the fucking tapping it’s the NOISE it’s the RACKET

jason: uh……… huh………

damian: no. drake is entirely correct. the noise in this establishment is infuriating

dick: the sounds of a normal mcdonalds???

tim: dick you don’t understand my brain keeps trying to translate the clattering dishes into morse code and i can’t turn it off

tim: it’s all gibberish dick

jason: you think so too, imp?

damian: having spent so much tine with all of you i am developing an immunity to gibberish. but yes

jason: i don’t…

jason: …

jason: shit y’all are right this is annoying as hell. fuck you for bringing my attention to it

tim: it drives me actually insane

jason: totally get it dude

damian: it is distracting to say the least

jason: oh yeah absolutely

dick: i have a solution! [starts tapping over the background noise]

jason, tim, and damian: FOR FUCKS SAKE

jason, tim, and damian: i… love…… you… guys………

jason: awwww

tim: huh actually i don’t mind it when there’s a pattern

damian: i can accept your solution—for now

dick: don’t worry guys i can do this all night :D

[batfam-aus]

jason: i feel like when you pat a dog and they make a hollow thunk-thunk sound because that’s not a dog that’s a dog-shaped piñata that you forgot to fill with candy and your son’s 8th birthday party started 15 minutes ago and there’s no fucking candy and your wife is screaming and the kid is crying and the ice cream cake’s been left out for an hour and it’s slumped over in a half-melted heap and all you can think about is how the nearest cliff is a 5 minute drive away

dick: i said i’d buy you another green smoothie after work

jason: i’m mentally getting into my 1994 toyota corolla right now

[batfam-aus]

in the batfam group chat

bruce: hhhgsruhilgslkwqj;lnkbn

dick: are you ok b???

bruce: HJJJJJJJJGJJSLIJGJIJG

jason: all those years of crime fighting have finally caught up with him

stephanie: omg so sad

stephanie: f

tim: maybe he's writing in code

jason: he better not be

dick: should i call someone

bruce: I'm fine.

jason: aw

dick: what happened???

bruce: Flash had the zoomies again. G 2 G, the Watchtower has entered a decaying orbit from the sheer force generated by his zoomies, and we are now burning up in the atmosphere.

tim: f

stephanie: f

dick: alright which one of you taught him to say zoomies

stephanie: ...

stephanie: and that's another f in the chat boys... but this one's for me

[batfam-aus]

Jason: Hey, anybody ever tell you you gotta nice smell? What’s a guy gotta eat to smell like that?

Dick: It’s cologne.

Jason: Huh. Never tried eating cologne before.

[batfam-aus]

Tim: Let me get this straight—

Dick: Good luck with that!

[batfam-aus]

Damian: No! You didn't woo her with any tact! Do you know what people like?

Dick: Bagels!

Damian: Maybe.