#bruce is territorial that much is true

[leoleolovesdc]

I hate to be that guy, but the no metas rule in gotham doesn't exist and never existed

Bruce doesn't like that other heroes come meddling in his city but this has nothing to do with powers, metas are humans and citizens, some of them are hidden or just don't do hero stuff and it'd impossible for Bruce to forbid a whole percentage of the population to be there or protect the city

Booster Gold is from Gotham, Black Canary is from Gotham, Duke Thomas is from Gotham, they are all meta super heroes and Bruce has never made a deal out of it

He doesn't care if people have super powers, he just doesn't want outside heroes fucking with his business

[lazerswordweilder]

There’s a prompt I’ve heard from at least two seperate people, Danny gets adopted by the Waynes as a meta and the power suppression cuff hurts.

Okay, I need to sleep so let’s do this fast. No matter what anyone at Wayne Manor did, all Danny would do for the first day would be trying to get the cuff off, no one understood why, by the second day they got worried, a civilian shouldn’t go this long without food.

By the third day Danny realises he’s going to have a serious problem if he doesn’t act soon, he gets Bruces attention (this is the first ‘sane’ thing he’s done since he arrived so Bruce agrees to talk happily). Bruce doesn’t expect Danny to make him swear that nothing is recording this, that no one will hear what Danny says here, Bruce is concerned but not normal enough to see too much of an issue in this, so he agrees. Danny says this ‘I’m not human. I’m pretending to be a meta because the genocide of my entire species is legal and I’m too weak to fight the hunters right now.’ that alone was enough for Bruce to freak out, Danny really didn’t have to keep talking ‘My powers don’t work anywhere near the way a metas would, I don’t know why the cuff is working but you need to get it off. The powers are a part of me, they’re connected to my core, and the cuffs are hurting my core. I’ll die for good if you keep this on, it’s luck I’ve survived this long with the cuff on.’ Bruce decided to just unlock the cuff at this point, and immediately realised Danny was right.

For the first time that feral panic in his eyes was gone, he floated into the air, legs morphing into a tail, and immediately looks so much more comfortable than he had- again since Bruce had met him. He looked healthier and he seemed to- no, he was glowing. He took a deep breath in and the air he breathed out was icy and cold, Bruce had been told Dannt seemed to have some ice powers. The powers were obviously part of him.

‘First things first, legal genocide of your entire species? Was that a lie to get me to take the cuff off?’ Bruce asked hopefully, Danny actually laughed, revealing fangs

‘I wish- I’d love that to be true.’ Danny said

For just a slip second something else flashed across Dannys face, pain and sadness, like a king carrying his kingdom, like a soldier carrying his fallen armies legacy.

‘Could you stop it?’ Danny asked, Bruce nodded quickly

‘I will stop it.’ Bruce promised, Danny relaxed, he sighed and he looked just a little lighter

‘They’re safe.’ he whispered, happiness and relief obvious on his face ‘My friad, my haunt, my kingdom.’ Danny muttered

‘Fraid? Haunt? Kingdom?’ Bruce asked

‘Oh, just our species terminology, the closest translations would be family and territory.’ Danny said

‘What about kingdom?’ Bruce asked

‘What? No I meant the normal definition for that, I became king after the whole Pariah incident last year.’ Danny said it casually, in a tone Bruce knew well, the classic: this is not normal and I’m deeply traumatised about it, let’s pretend it’s no big deal.

[spacedace]

Had a dc x dp brain worm, feel free to use as a prompt <3

Sidenote, I decided to get fancy with the Ancients titles because of course I did lol

Shifting Where = Space (Danny)

Eternal When = Time (Clockwork)

Ever Onward = Speedforce (Ellie)

---

Bruce watched the footage again.

And again.

Again.

It didn’t make sense.

A week ago every television, radio, computer, phone - even the LED billboards - had been taken over to deliver a message. Across the United States. In every territory it held. Every military base. Down in the depths of the oceans where American submarines tried to creep past Atlantian patrols. In the endless cold white of Antarctica. Even far above in the International Space Station. Any place the United States Government had control over, any place one of its citizens found themselves. There was the message.

The face of an entity, human in shape but not in form. Hair as gleaming white as starlight, eyes bright as the twisting dance of the Aurora Borealis, skin as cold and blue as the tail of a comet. The entity wore armor as black as the depths of space with a crown to match, the later glinting and shifting with the twisting birth and death of galaxies. A cloak of nebulae danced down his shoulders, eclipsing the world beyond the entity entirely.

He named himself, jaw tight, expression serious.

High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms.

The Shifting Where. Son of the Eternal When. Father of the Ever Onward. His Epitaphs many and ever growing. The True Balance. The Bridge Between. The Devourer of Dark. The Last Child of Between. The Great One.

King of the Dead. King of the Infinite Worlds. King of so much more than Bruce had ever even known was possible.

King who had declared war. Who marshaled his endless armies. Who spoke of warnings, of efforts to reach a peace, of trying again and again and again to find a way to not plunge into violence and bloodshed. All things living come to call him King in time, he had no want or need to go out and hurry that along. But there were no options left to him now. He had tried for peace. He had been denied.

He would not see his people suffer any longer. Would not see those he’d sworn to lead and protect imprisoned by fools who had sworn themselves enemies to all the afterlives. Would no longer permit the vicious cruelty to continue.

The message was a final warning.

A final offer.

Three days, Phantom said. The United States government would have three days to release their prisoners, to begin the process of dismantling the laws that made death itself an illegal act.

If they refused, he would lead his endless armies personally in the war to come.

It had not been an idle threat.

Three days after the message, after Bruce and the rest of the Justice League scrambled to try and figure out just what it was it was all about, after Justice League Dark’s members shakily took turns explaining just how powerful the being that had gave that message was and how much danger the world was in should he and his armies march upon their world, war came.

Of all places, it began in a town in Illinois.

The sky shattered like broken glass above, Lazarus Green beyond, and the Dead poured out.

It started in Illinois.

It did not end there.

Bruce watched the footage of it all, eyes burning as he watched every second of CCTV footage, every shaky phone camera video, every news broadcast.

Most of them looked human enough. Changed in death, but recognizably human once. A pair of glowing teenagers on a motorcycle, a writhing shadow twisting about at their command sweeping chaos upon the battlefield. A young woman dressed to perform with hair a literal flame, burning bright blue and snapping furiously as she played devastation upon her enemies with her guitar. A child with corpse gray skin and luminescent green hair, flickering in and out of Bruce’s ability to see as if fighting against a law of existence to be visible, screaming orders to a skeleton crew from his place on deck of a 1700s ship that sailed through the sky, disappearing into clouds before raining down attacks from above.

There was more. Glowing skeletons dressed in the fashions of war spanning every culture going back millennia. Robots with weapons far beyond the technology they had even in the League. Creatures of myth and legend. Things of nightmares.

Leading them all, as he had promised, was Phantom.

He looked younger, smaller. Just a boy, really, a gangly teenager that hadn’t quite finished growing into himself. One holding power beyond anything Bruce could ever imagine, but still just a child as far as he could see, no older than Tim who’d just graduated high school. Frantic research found Phantom appearing as far back as human history, but those sightings had to have been after his death. Bruce can’t help but wonder how young the boy had been when he died, how much of that youth still clung to him through all these eons.

It wasn’t something he’d let him self consider normally, not with something like this.

A dangerous unknown appearing without warning and attacking with unimaginable power and seemingly endless forces. It was something that would normally eclipse everything else. Something that would make Bruce put aside the ache at seeing a face so young twisted in rage.

But.

He watched all the footage.

Civilians were put in the crossfire. Were shot at and endangered. Were left terrified and scrambling for safety in buildings that were rapidly being torn away by stray artillery.

But never by Phantom or his armies.

The dead, in fact, went very far out of their way to ensure civilians weren’t harmed. Sweeping people up out of the way of falling debris. Shielding them from attacks that would have most certainly killed a normal human. Some dead even helped evacuate, ushering a frightened and panicked populous to safety as gently as they were capable of. Some of the less human creatures - giant bear-like beings with horns and fangs and ice edging their burly frames - even rushed forward to offer medical aid.

When the sky shattered open and the armies of the dead swept in, they ignored the town below. They focused instead on what was discovered later to be the base of a secretive government agency. The dead’s fight focused on those individuals in sharp white suits, bearing weapons capable of actually injuring King Phantom’s people.

It was these agents that brought the fight to the streets to Amity Park. That fired recklessly and without thought or care to the casualties they could inflict. That didn’t seem to care if they killed a hundred civilians if it meant hurting just one of Phantom’s soldiers.

Bruce watched all the footage.

And again.

Again.

Phantom had declared war.

Phantom spoke in his message of being out of options, of attempting peace. Phantom gave three days time for the release of captives. Phantom lead armies who fought viciously but never once willingly harmed civilians.

Phantom declared war, but he didn’t want it.

“Amanda Waller has reached out.”

Bruce didn’t turn his attention from the screens before him, eyes burning as he followed Phantom as the King dove away from the middle of locked combat to shield a child from a pulse of green energy from something like a grenade another agent in white had carelessly thrown. The child was crying but unharmed. The left pauldron of Phantom’s armor cracked and shattered from a direct shot from the enemy he’d just been fighting that he’d turned his back on, a glowing green liquid uncomfortably like Lazarus Water dripped down from a smoldering wound.

Clark stepped up to stand beside him as he watched, face worn and tired. The League had missed the first battle, but they’d been quick to appear at the rest. Phantom and his army ignored them unless they put themselves purposefully in the way of the fight. They were, as Justice League Dark had warned, vastly out powered by the entities fighting. A hulking giant knight made of shadow riding a nightmarish steed had driven Clark six feet down into the dirt when he’d attempted to make his way to Phantom directly to try and talk to the king.

The depth Clark had ended up felt like a warning of what would happen if he tried to get close to the king again.

It probably was.

“She said they have intel for us.” A faint twitch of fingers, jaw clenching, voice flat in that way that told Bruce his old friend was fighting back anger with everything he had. “That she has options for how to deal with the insurgence.”

Bruce shut off the monitors.

He’d seen enough.

Now was time to get answers to just what, exactly, Amanda Waller and the US government had done to cause the Dead to rise and rage.

---

Part Two Part Three Part Four

[yasmindifference]

12!

Tim is only halfway through his explanation of the case he's been working when Bruce sighs and says, "I'll bring Hood in."

He's so astonished by this idiocy that it genuinely takes him a few seconds to recover; he has to run to catch up. Then, since he's running anyway, he uses his momentum to slide into place a few steps ahead, blocking Batman's path.

In the Cave, that's more symbolic than anything--there's plenty of room to go around him--and B respects that much, at least. He stops in his tracks.

"No, you won't," Tim says very clearly.

Batman frowns. "Red Robin."

"Batman," he returns, and Batman's frown deepens.

He's wearing the cowl now, having pulled it on as he walked--steeling himself for what he's decided he has to do. Shutting Bruce away so his paternal affection doesn't slow him down.

As usual, he's being a complete moron. World's Greatest Detective, Tim's ass.

"Red Robin," Batman says again, "your attachment to Red Hood--"

"--has nothing to do with this," Tim interrupts. "Jason didn't do it."

His pointed use of Jason's actual name goes unacknowledged; Batman sets his shoulders to loom and doubles down.

"The victim profile is clearly in line with Hood's usual targets," he says. "The victim's own victims were children, specifically children from Crime Alley, and his crimes against them were exactly the kind that Hood punishes the most severely. You can't deny that."

He's using the Batman growl and still looming over Tim...why, Tim's not exactly sure. It's not like he ever backed down from this kind of display even when he was a literal child facing down a Batman half-mad with grief. As an adult and a vigilante in his own right, who's been facing down the city's, world's, and occasionally galaxy's worst for nearly a decade...Batman is barely going to make him blink.

So he meets the eerie white lenses of the cowl straight on when he says, "No, I can't deny any of that. But Jason still didn't do it."

"You're being unrealistic," Batman says sharply. "Basing your conclusion on emotion instead of fact."

"No, that would be you," Tim corrects, just as sharp. "You're blinded by your issues with Jason's way of doing things. If you were actually thinking straight--"

"Hood makes a habit of targeting rapists, pedophiles, and anyone who breaks his so-called 'rules' in the territory he claims as his." Batman looms harder. "All three apply to the victim. What evidence do you have to support his innocence?"

"The fact that this isn't how Jason works."

Batman's face blanks out, scowl wiped away as he forcefully suppresses his reaction to Tim's words.

"Hood has never agreed with the no-kill rule," he says, "and despite our truce, he never committed to not using lethal force. It was only a matter of time before he crossed the line again, and this is precisely how he likes to 'punish' those he deems guilty."

Tim has to take a second to deliberately calm himself before he can trust his voice. His hands ache for how tightly he's fisted them.

"No," he says, once he's sure his voice won't shake with the anger trembling in his fists. "No, it isn't."

"Tim--"

"It's true that Jason isn't opposed to lethal force," he says over Batman. "It's also true that he particularly targets people who break his rules and/or prey on children. But not like this!"

If he were anyone but Batman, Tim would say Bruce falters.

"Explain."

Tim doesn't hesitate.

"Yes, Jason is willing to kill," he says. "Yes, he'll even make it hurt if the crime is bad enough. But his goal isn't to punish anyone--it's to protect people."

Batman's flat expression--what little Tim can see of it beyond the cowl, at least--says he doesn't appreciate the difference.

Tim tries again. "Jason doesn't kill because he enjoys it, he kills because he thinks it's the only way to stop the worst of the worst. That's why he goes after the people the system can't or won't contain."

Still, Batman is unmoved. Tim gets to the point.

"Our victim was tortured over the course of several hours," he says again. It was one of the first lines in his little presentation on the case, and should have immediately disqualified Jason as a potential perpetrator. "I estimate at least twelve hours passed between the infliction of the first wound and his death, which was the result of a combination of shock and blood loss."

"You said that already," Batman says, unamused.

"Yes, and you should've known that it ruled out Jason!" Tim snaps. "If Jason had done this, he might have, have kneecapped the guy first, or shot him in the gut, or something, because yes, he'd have wanted to make him hurt. But the death still would have been measured in minutes, because at the end of the day, Jason's main priority is to end suffering, not cause it."

For a long, tense moment, Batman stares at him. Tim's trembling with emotion--not just anger that Batman is doubting him, but fear at what Batman might do to Jason if Tim can't stop him.

For all of Bruce's talk about Jason crossing lines...when it comes to Jason, Bruce tends to cross plenty himself.

Finally, Batman (and he is still so very Batman) says, "I wish I could believe that, but I can't."

"Then believe in me," Tim says, seizing the opening at once. "Just give me a day or two, okay? I'll find the real killer and prove that Jason didn't do this."

After either a few seconds or a lifetime, Batman finally--finally--backs down.

"You have a week," he says, and turns away. "And if you're wrong..."

Tim isn't about to humor that ominous trailing off. "I'm not. You'll see."

"I hope so," Bruce says quietly.

Prompt #12 was one character standing up for the other! Good choice! ♡♡

[sleepy-grav3]

The End of Legacies

DCxDP

A/n: Random idea that passed through my mind. It's not good in my opinion, but only because I wanted it to be more dramatic but didn't have the motivation to.

Summary: Danny made Bruce keep his no-killing rule until he's done preparing for Joker's ghost. The day he was ready finally came.

Tw: Murder, swears, canonical death and torture, maybe more.

Ghost King Danny; Danny and Bruce think of each other as brothers; Danny also has an adoption habit; Danny is also Hourglass (Clockwork's apprentice)

Bruce loves his kids. And The Joker is the biggest risk to them. The monster was the reason for their fragile bond.

He's tried to kill him before. He's revived him before. He's treated him before.

He hates it. And he hates that he can't tell his children why at the risk of prolonging this horrendous creature that was no longer human.

And he'd known this would happen. He's been told it long ago by a ghost who had made him swear that the Joker will live until he gives the word.

It's been 2 decades since then and Bruce almost wishes that he was selfish enough to risk the multi-verse for the sake of his children's peace of mind and even soul.

Bruce knew that Jason's Pit Rage wouldn't be fully gone until he killed the Joker. That's what Revenants need to live a peaceful undead life.

Bruce knew that Dick and Damian would never trust him unless he broke his rule for the family. Until then, Batman was above them in his list of priorities. He hates that it's somewhat true.

Bruce knew that none of them would ever feel even the slightest bit safe with that fucking thing alive.

But he couldn't end it. Not yet.

And he remembered that day where his rule became an obligation and not a personal mercy.

-

It was a random day. Gray sky, just a bit darker than usual. Batman was out as normal, still at the start of his nightly career, when a light came towards him. He recognized that light.

Phantom.

He went to WE's rooftop and stood there, waiting for Phantom. It wasn't long until the half-ghost joined him.

"Phantom. What are you doing here?"

If it were any other hero, he'd be more assertive, more territorial. But this was Phantom. A 17 year old boy who acted as a diplomat due to his kingly status and was planning on going to college rather than spend his time as a vigilante.

He was a kid and he knew better than to mess with Gotham without insider knowledge and experience.

Phantom gave a smile that came off more as a grimace. It made Batman tense.

"I don't come to you as Phantom, but as Hourglass, the apprentice of the Master of Time. And I must have you swear an oath to follow your rule until the time comes."

"Can you expand on that?"

Pha- Hourglass nodded.

"As of now, an actual joke. As of later, a monster unnamed. The Joker will grow to become so malicious that I as King must make preparations for his arrival to the Realms. Ending him now will not stop the travesties from occurring. Waiting will at least allow for all of Gotham to renew."

Danny pursed his lips.

"I could give you the prophecy and the only warning I am allowed to give if you wish. But know this, Detective. In hearing, you will become Odysseus, Cassandra, and Zeus. Only later will you understand. Do you still wish for me to relay it?"

[ Bruce remembered this moment. He remembered his answer and how much pain it brought upon realization. He wished he refused. He wished he wasn't so prideful to think that he could've prevented it all from happening. ]

"Yes."

Hourglass nodded.

"The first will oversee."

Dick was the first Robin. He was the only one who made it but wasn't unscathed. He regretted allowing Robin to be a curse.

"The second shall fall."

Jason was the second Robin and died because of it.

"The third shall become the first and the who knows will be the next."

Tim was the third Robin. He was the first to survive Joker's torture from the family's victims. Bruce didn't realize that Tim knew he'd be the next Joker until he had an intense relapse where his contingencies for JJ came to light.

"The fourth shall fall."

Steph was the fourth Robin. She had died, but not by The Joker's hands.

"The fifth shall mourn and chase."

Tim was technically also the fifth when he returned. He lost so many people in such a short amount of time before going on a chase after Bruce.

"The honorary sixth will rule until the day gains the sun."

Duke was the honorary sixth along with many others through the We Are Robin movement.

"The seventh bathed in blood."

Damian was the seventh Robin. He's his biological son from an assassin family. He's plagued by his mother's side of his family, chased after and forever fearing the end of normalcy.

"The eighth shall meet the stars that burn and freeze."

Jarro was technically the eighth Robin. He had seen many things out in space and Bruce knows that he didn't share it all when he visits.

Hourglass finished off and Danny looked at him with sadness in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

"None of it will be your fault. Let me handle things here. He's my responsibility."

Danny nodded and then smiled softly.

"On another note. When you see the girl, come visit me. You'll know which one later on."

-

Bruce would visit Danny, especially on the days the realization sank in and all was done.

Danny had made a life since then. He remains a last resort for the Justice League, a counselor of the dead side of things, the official King of the Realms, and a father of 3 children: Billy Batson, Ace, and Kon.

Bruce considers him a brother due to their close enough age, ignoring the 8 year gap. So he was also an uncle and a son. He was oh so thankful to be privy to Alfred's immortality due to an apparent adventure that nobody knew about because no time had passed while he was on it.

But he still waited for the day Danny would visit. The day he could introduce him to his children as their uncle. To have a full family dinner. To have the nightmare end.

It yet another random day that Phantom had come to him. He was in his office in the manor, doing some paperwork for WE for Tim due to him having an intense migraine.

It was out of nowhere when the ghost literally tumbled in. He flew through the door but flew back in the room during Bruce's moment of shock.

"I finished! The preparations for the bastard is done!"

Bruce rapidly blinked, trying to process it. He could hardly believe it. This wasn't some sick joke, Danny would never do that to him. He wasn't mind controlled either, his eyes would give it away no matter what method was used.

Bruce couldn't hold back the tears or the loud sobs. Danny detransformed and hugged him tightly, letting Bruce cry his heart out on Danny's chest as he remained in his seat.

Alfred came to check on them and upon seeing Danny, he sheds a few tears.

-

That night, Bruce had gathered everyone. They were shocked to see Raven, Supernova (Kon), Captain Marvel, and Phantom there.

"What threat is there that we need even Captain Marvel and Phantom's assistance, Father?"

"And why isn't this a League meeting? I mean sure, the bats and birds are definitely better than them, but still." Steph questioned.

"I'd also like to know that." Helena and Jason both huffed/scoffed.

Bruce took a breath.

"Tonight, there will be another breakout. However, this one will be different. Tonight, The Joker will die by my hands."

"WHOA!"

"WHAT?!"

"BRUCE?????"

"Holy shit-"

"He's a clone-"

"Imposter!"

The guests only glanced at each other before focusing back on the chaos. Captain Marvel was the one to silence them by stepping forward with a raised hand.

"So, you guys must all be confused. Before we explain, I'll have you all know that Batman is the real Batman. None of us have been influence by anything either. Phantom?"

"Right." Phantom flew over to sit on Batman's shoulder, there was no weight for him to be concerned about Batman complaining to him later. "20 years ago, I came to Batman and told him that the Joker would become so evil that I had to make preparations for his death. And until then, The Joker shouldn't be killed. Otherwise, he'd reek terror upon the multi-verse."

Phantom smiled sympathetically down at Batman.

"I'm sure he hasn't told any of you this to not have you pressure me into hurrying what was already being hurried, in which, would only prolong the time to Joker's End. Please don't blame Bruce and understand that he truly does love you all and suffered knowing that if he killed or irreversibly harmed the rogue early, you would all still suffer the same fates but without any kind of avenging. In addition to that, many people would've not had the opportunity to be redeemed, created, and more."

Silence. The cave was silent at what Phantom had admitted. Jason was ready to just leave, Dick was ready to explode with betrayal, Babs was in shock, Tim and Damian understood fully, Cass also understood but was still hurt, Helena muttered an 'of course he did', and Duke was more than heartbroken.

Phantom eventually sighed and got off of Bruce's shoulder.

"We have 15 minutes until the breakout happens. Batman?"

Plans were made that night.

The night that Phantom, Captain Marvel, Raven, and Supernova had gathered in Gotham to handle Joker's ghost on the mortal Realm. On the other side, Phantasm (Dani), Wraith (Dan), Ace, Zatanna, and Constantine waited for the monster to come and dealt with him accordingly.

The Joker went out with a blast by Batman's hands, just like he wanted.

But he will not know eternity in peace. He will be tortured by the victims he killed and the ones he didn't for all of time until they got bored of him. And on that day, Danny will end him forever.

This is the end of The Joker. He will not rise again.

[the-daydreaming-show]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 — “I am, I have been, and I was born hungry.”

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: An abandoned son makes a decision. The cared for son is taken away.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬): Bruce Wayne X ScarletWitch!Reader; Jason Todd x Batmom!ScarletWitch!Reader; Tim Drake x Batmom!ScarletWitch!Reader; Jason Todd x Tim Drake.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧��𝐧𝐠: kidnapping, mention of PTSD, weapons, threats (silent), drugs and forced drug use, death of Janet Drake, and mention of Jack Drake in the hospital, Jason is mansplaining, manipulating and manslaughter his way through this sequel.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: This took a while because I had a precise plan for this sequel, but writing this chapter, something possessed me and changed everything. So, now I'm not sure what's going to happen, it's all in destiny hands now on!!!

Thanks to our beta reader, the wonderful @igotmessymind for her work, as always, I appreciate you very much!!

Now, I would like to make a special mention of @andieperrie18, who made a playlist base on the Batmom Scarlet Witch.

And I need you to admire this masterpiece, because this playlist doesn't just include songs. NOO, It also has dialogue between Batmom and Bruce at the beginning, and it's just gold. Also go to check the other playlist in her channel, they have some good stuff. The small talks and slow dancing with Bruce Wayne is one of my favorites!!!

So, thank you very much to you @andieperrie18 for your love and the dedication it took to make this playlist. I don't have enough words to show my adoration and gratitude for this playlist. So everyone, please go give them love to the playlist while reading this chapter!!

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬 / Prelude / Next Part

Jason knew he was not walking on good ground. He hadn't been since he was revived in the Lazarus Pit. He hadn't been when he had killed criminals to try to control Gotham's crime. Nor when he had to escape from Arkham Asylum after Batman had locked him there, under the excuse that it was best for him.

Lies. 

All were lies.

He knew it now more than ever as he looked at his wall.

Jason was sitting in an old chair facing the wall, where a variety of photos, newspaper clippings, maps, and notes were displayed. 

Seeing that wall told him that he was definitely slipping into a new territory of madness. 

But-he-couldn't-stop. It was like he was on a slide, and he couldn't dig his heels in to stop. A part of him didn't want to stop. 

Just as he hadn't wanted to soften the news of his return to Bruce, that part of Jason wanted revenge with every atom of his true self. And now it was pushing him towards that wall. 

Another part of him, though, didn't want to do this. It was the part that still made him want to put his hands in his mouth to eat his cuticles, like he had done as a child. That part wanted to approach you on the street, and calmly let you explain why you hadn't sought him out. So that he could move on somehow, in a way that would make you proud of how Jason had handled everything.

But you had abandoned him.

After Bruce found out he was alive, Jason had hoped that once he told you all of it, you'd show up at his door. Jason had been ready to listen to your logical arguments and leave the whole killing thing behind. 

¿Who cared about revenge and Gotham if there was a chance to get back with his mom? 

Not to Jason.

You didn't; you never showed up. 

And now the part that wanted revenge was screaming too loud for him to hear anything else.

So there he was, sitting in a chair, arms crossed, as he carefully admired the wall he had created.

There were pictures of you picking up Timothy Drake from school, taking him shopping, hugging him at galas, and chatting with him at fashion events. Events that you had probably only been invited to, but you had convinced the team to let you take someone else, the same way you did with Jason when he was young. You probably took him to eat at your favorite restaurant every Friday after school, like they did with him. You probably also turned off the light in his room every night after saying goodnight, like you did with Jason.

No shame; you had given everything that was Jason's to that boy. 

That's why you weren't looking for him when you found out he was alive. You had replaced him with that kid, the same way Bruce had, and you deserved the same kind of punishment.

You deserved his revenge. And you will receive it.

You were in your office, in your brand's office building, a few blocks from Wayne Tower, where your entire clothing brand has done most of its business since you married Bruce. The official and original store of your brand is still in Metropolis, where it all started, but you moved the main offices to Gotham when you got married. So all of your children spent time between Wayne Tower and your building.

Usually, that was where they ended up after school.

Tim was supposed to go there after school. Typically, you would go pick him up. But that day he was staying a few extra hours at school for his Debate Club, and he would walk with his friends to their houses and meet you before you left the office that afternoon. So you were surprised when, as you were evaluating some new designs, your phone lit up with your youngest son's phone number.

“Mom,” Tim’s voice immediately sounded on the other end of the phone when you answered. He sounded nervous.

“Tim, honey,” you said, looking up at the clock. “Did I forget to pick you up?”, and immediately, your mind goes into paranoia, convinced that Tim had asked you to go look for him, and that's why he was calling you, and you had forgotten.

“No, no. Mom, it's fine,” he assured you quickly. You could hear chatter in the background, like someone was encouraging him to talk. “Mom, do you know today is Friday, right?”

Obviously, you remembered that it was Friday. On Fridays, when Tim came home from school, the two of you would go out to dinner at your favorite restaurant as a traditional mother-son activity.

“Yes, I've noticed,” you said, closing the sketchbook to give the boy your full attention.

“And we always go to eat at Julián's on Fridays after school, without fail,” he continues explaining. You assumed he was going somewhere, so you murmured an affirmation. “Well, you saw Dylan, my chemistry classmate. He and others are going to eat at a pizzeria near the school, and they invited me. After eating, we are all going to go to his house to play video games. If you're okay with that, I would like to go. Or I'll just go eat and go back home early. I-” Tim was already in babbling territory; you could barely contain your laughter when you interrupted him.

“It's okay, Tim. I don’t mind a change of plans, darling,” you assured him, and you could see his shoulders relax even from your building. “I'll take advantage and visit your father's office; I'll ask him to accompany me on an impromptu date.”

“Okay, okay. Yes, that sounds good.” Tim was smiling as big as he could, while around him, his classmates were singing victory for the afternoon they had organized. “I'll let you know where we are and call you when it's time to come home. I love you.”

Before you could tell him that he didn't need to tell you exactly where to be and at what time, Tim hung up the call, too excited about the whole thing. To which you inevitably laughed, happy that Tim had an activity, say a boy his age, and that he was so excited about it. You had met Dylan a couple of times; he was a good kid, so you were sure everything would be fine.

Jason watched Tim walk with his friends all night.

After observing him for weeks, he realized that the chic lived based on a fairly consistent routine. One that repeated itself almost around the clock for some reason, but Jason suspected that it had to do with the post-traumatic stress the boy must have had after the Joker's attack on his biological parents the year before. The boy's mother was six meters underground, and his father was on medical care for life because of all this. Jason almost felt bad for him. Almost.

This also meant that you and Bruce were very aware of the boy's routine, so if Tim were to disappear for even a couple of hours, it would ruin your plan. So he chanced it, waiting for the ideal moment to feed his need for revenge.

So when the sixteen-year-old decided to leave school one afternoon in the company of a group of other kids his age, he was clearly not on his way to your office like he usually did.

Jason took the phone out of his pocket and gave the order to start.

The group of friends went into a hidden, but sufficiently crowded, pizzeria a few blocks from the house of the boy Dylan, to whom Tim seemed closest in the group.

Jason had quickly discovered that Tim was a smart kid. He was too smart for Jay to trick him or accidentally cause him to fall into a trap of some kind.

But he had also discovered that Tim was, like Bruce, an idiot for justice.

He had watched him risk his life more than necessary for civilians while he ran around as Robin, when Jason from afar could have found about five ways to save the civilians without getting in the way. Tim jumped in to save them with his own hands every time there was a lethal risk. It could be that the weight of not having helped his parents was still eating him alive too.

But one way or another, Jason would use that to his advantage.

Jason walked into the pizzeria, followed by five other men he knew Tim would recognize. It was because he had gotten them out of jail, especially because Robin had dragged them and put them there, with the aim of getting them to help him. The proposed men didn't know he was there for that reason; they were just doing their job for the money, unaware of the mental games Jason was playing with the teenager.

And Tim Drake understood what was going to happen the moment he saw Jason. She looked him in the eyes and smiled as she casually glanced at the table of the group of friends, who were still wearing their school uniforms.

“Timothy, little one,” Jason greeted casually, putting his hands in his pockets and watching as Tim's eyes went to the way that movement revealed the reflection of a gun on his hip. “I've been looking for you!!”

Jason knew exactly how Tim would react and looked at the situation. They had both been trained by the same man at the end of the day. They were a reflection of each other, and that is why it was a dangerous game. “Are you hungry, Timothy? Because I am starving.”

Jason wasn't talking about the pizzas, and Tim knew it quickly. But he couldn't do anything, not with Jason so armed and clearly accompanied. Both were surrounded by so many civilians, and Tim's friends. His new friends, who had been patient with him and had accepted him into his group, which he had been joining since they were children. But they still tried to integrate him and invited him to things, again and again, until that day he accepted for the first time in months.

The table had fallen silent at the extra situation, but Tim seemed to know the stranger who had sat down, so they didn't say anything. But Dylan, as kind and caring as he was, saw the way the color had drained from Tim's face. So he spoke.

“Don't worry, Dylan,” Jason told him, which took Dylan by surprise since he had never told the stager his name, and he got genuinely worried now. “He just needs something to drink; he's just dehydrated. Timmy works a lot and doesn’t take care of himself.”

While talking to Dylan, Tim watched as Jason grabbed his glass of soda that he had been drinking while they waited for the pizzas. Without anyone else noticing, Tim watched as Jason dropped a pill into the drink, which was probably intended to knock him out, or at least drug him enough to make it manageable for Jason.

All without anyone else noticing, just so he could see it and know what was going on. He was faced with the reality that he couldn't do anything, and he couldn't fight, not at such a potential price. He was trapped. 

It made Tim feel alarmingly alone, despite being surrounded by people.

“Here, drink something.” Jason handed him the glass, where the gas from the soda easily hid the bubbles that the pill made as it dissolved. “It will do you good.”

The two stood face-to-face for a moment as the older brother offered the glass, and Jason didn't need to make the threat for Tim to understand. 

Or Tim drank the soda and voluntarily sedated himself. Or he would get him out of there in a much more aggressive way. And some bullets could be lost in that situation, so Jason could make sure that his friends were the ones who received them.

Tim could see the decapitated bodies of Black Mask's lieutenants, found shortly after Red Hood appeared in Gotham, before Bruce discovered his identity.

So he grabbed the glass and brought it to his mouth. Tim gave Jason a last pleading look, to which the boy just smiled sweetly. And your youngest son just wanted to scream for you, but you didn't know Jason was alive, and you suspected that's exactly what Jason wanted.

He wouldn't put you in danger.

Bruce would handle everything; Tim trusted that.

Tim downed the glass of soda in four gulps and didn't remember anything else after that.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @some-lovely-day @simonsbluee @yuki-chan23 @miyakana @myst3batz @otchae @d3m0n8ch1ld @marsenbie @mynameisnotlaura @andieperrie18 @totallynotme420 @igotmessymind @amarawayne @calsjack @kodzukenmaaa @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @blarba-girl @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh @ashlynnmalfoy @kimmis-stuff @undecided-shipper @justafanficsreader @poppyalice2001 @holdyuhmuda @jiabae @mara-moon @avitute @lafrone

[battexthefox]

SuperBat #1: Small Acts

This takes place after Bruce, Diana, and Clark find out each other's identities, and before the Justice League find out each other's.

Clark shows up to Justice League meetings in his supersuit, holding a drink carrier with two coffees; one hot chocolate, and an americano with a shot of vanilla. Bruce looks at him quizzically, but doesn't say anything, even when Clark hands him the coffee with his iconic S symbol emblazoned on the side. Internally, Bruce snickers at the thought of the God-like Kryptonian walking into a café, standing in line, and ordering as if he were any other person.

"Hope I got it right, Bruce. I think this is your order" Clark smiles, speaking quietly. Bruce takes a sip. He sits back ever so slightly, stunned. Clark's smile widens. "Is it right?"

"Did Dick give you my order?"

"No, Steph did." Bruce thinks back to earlier that day, walking past Steph's room and hearing her faint giggle. Ah.

Bruce adjusts his posture back to his normal rigid position. Diana, who always sits across from the duo, grins a cheshire smile. Bruce and Clark don't notice.

Bruce becomes used to Clark bringing coffee to their bi-monthly meetings. In fact, he comes to expect it. After a few months, Hal points out that Superman only brings coffee for Batman.

"Why don't I get one?" Hal teases. Clark blushes a bright pink, his smile falters slightly. Bruce notices, but doesn't think much of it.

"Well, Batman is pretty much nocturnal, right? I kinda assumed he would be tired during these meetings, so I guess I thought he might need a pick-me-up."

Well-reasoned, Bruce thinks. Of course, he isn't tired. He always has someone else, normally Nightwing, cover the night before so he is alert and attentive during these meetings.

A week later, Clark starts noticing encrypted e-mails popping up in his inbox. Its contents are all articles about a company that appears to be a shell organization for a company operating out of Metropolis. He starts writing right away. Two or three days later, his investigation is complete, and his article is written. He suspects once he publishes his findings, a certain crime organization will be taken into custody. Within a few days, Clark's suspicion becomes true.

At the next meeting, as Clark is handing Bruce his coffee, Bruce says "I noticed Ascorp has been taken down. Good work." Clark looks at him, mouth agape.

"You sent the email?" Bruce nods.

"It seemed right up your alley. Plus, I don't have jurisdiction in Metropolis. That's your territory."

Clark smiles at him. He hears a quickening heartbeat, and looks around. Huh. Not to say he hasn't noticed it before, but this time, it seemed... different. More noticeable.

Diana smiles her cheshire grin again. Hal looks over at her, than over to Batman and Superman.

"Oooooooooh" He jokes. Nobody else on the team gets it, except Wonder Woman, who sends a knowing wink over to him.

[t4tmagicians]

"Am I too dark?" Dick asks, at age eight. He's in the first design of what will be his Robin costume, it's barely more than his old circus leotard with a cape stitched onto the shoulders.

Bruce pauses, his hands full of rough, thick fabric. Dick is looking at the mirror they dragged down to the Cave together - it's really starting to look like somewhere lived in, instead of a messy collection of scaffolding and computer screens. He's not glaring at his reflection like he's displeased, it's a softer, almost tired looking expression.

"Too dark for what?" He asks, because he has an idea, but Alfred had reminded him that Dick was struggling with direct communication and Bruce would need to tempt out his feelings.

"To be rich. Cause I am now, kinda." Dick says, like it's obvious. He's giving Bruce a confused look, or at least, he might be. His eyebrows hadn't fully grown in yet, and it was a little hard to figure out his expressions.

"No." Bruce says, pulling a row of stitches tighter. "You're not too dark. You don't look much darker than me." He's a bit unsure on the R emblem on the chest, but Dick had been very insistent on it.

"It's different. I don't -" He makes a frustrated sound. "I don't know why I'm dark. I look like you, but wrong." He says simply, and runs a finger down his nose, frowning.

"You're not wrong." Bruce says, because it's true, and it's the only thing he can think of. "Not for how you look."

"I'm hungry. Can we ask Alfred for pancakes?" Dick says, and that conversation is over.

.

"Chavvi." Dick, age ten, says quietly, as Bruce runs a brush through his dark curls.

"Chavy?" Bruce repeats, wincing as he slowly unpicks a knot with his hands - his hair was getting long now, he might want to suggest a haircut soon.

"You're saying it wrong." He corrects. "Chavvi. It's what mom called me. I think it means kid." He wiggles in the too big chair, and Bruce has to hold his head still to make sure he doesn't accidentally rip a chunk of hair out.

"Chavvi. Okay." Bruce says, and after a moment of hesitation, he adds, "My mom called me lovebug."

Dick snorts. "Lovebug. That's silly."

"Yeah," Bruce looks up at the portrait of his mother and father hanging over the fireplace, and doesn't resist the small smile on his face. "It is silly."

.

"Are you sure?" Stephanie Brown, age fourteen, asks in hushed tones. She's pulling her hair back from her face, and staring at the old mirror in the Batcave that had been there for nearly a decade.

"I can see it." Dick, age twenty, says, leaning over her shoulder. "It's in the cheekbones. See?" He pokes his own, before poking Stephanie's until she giggles, and Bruce has to remind them to get ready for their mission.

"Come on, chavvi." Dick says, ushering Stephanie along. Bruce makes an additional note to Steph's file that night - ethnicity, white (British-Irish) and roma.

.

"Am I too dark for you?" Damian, age ten, snaps, and it's like Bruce is twenty years younger, and the Batcave was only a tiny corner of what it was now, and Bruce wasn't sure how to love a son.

"No." He says, firmly. Because Damian isn't. Later, Dick, age twenty-two, is found fussing over Damian's skin, claiming to care about his scars and their healing alone, but Bruce can see the small, eight year old boy inside of him stood at a mirror and asking, am I too dark?, in every soft swipe of a thumb of Damian's warm brown skin.

.

Duke, age sixteen, takes to the family quickly. Dick goes to ruffle his hair, before realising it's too short. He settles for an awkward headpat instead, which makes Tim laugh.

After a few night shifts, Duke looks at a mirror, and grimaces. "Am I getting paler?"

"Comes with the territory." Stephanie, age eighteen, explains. "I promise, I'm not this white naturally."

It's true, Stephanie browns - pun not intended - easily in the sun.

"Gross." Duke says, and Dick and Stephanie nod in agreement.

.

Summer is sweltering, and Dick is darker than ever. He looks in a mirror, and to Bruce, and smiles brightly. "We need to get you a tan, old man. You're too pale."

"I could stand to be a little darker." He agrees, and he feels a little more full inside.

[bighungrywolf]

"I've been waiting for you, Bruce, we need to talk."

"Um… hey, Dan, okay… I don't know what you want to talk about, but… I'm in a bit of a hurry, if you want to talk about it tomorrow" replied Bruce, clearly nervous and trying to avoid a conversation that he knew exactly what it was going to be about.

"Oooooh, it's funny, I don't give a shit about your rush, just like you don't give a shit about respecting the limits that are set for you, do you, Bruce?

"I really don't know what you're talking about mate, you know I would never do anything to upset you, and that…" stammered Bruce.

"Cut the crap buddy, I know perfectly well that you've come into my territory and taken what wasn't yours, is it too much of a coincidence that you suddenly join the same gym as me and suddenly people start disappearing, which for once I had nothing to do with, right? You think you're so macho? Maybe someone needs to teach you again that you shouldn't enter another pred's hunting ground, and you should remember who the real alpha is here and who's in charge. And you know what they say, an eye for an eye… you hunt the ones that were going to be my snacks, and it's only fair that you give me back what was mine, isn't it?"

"Y…you're absolutely right, forgive me Dan, I'll find a couple…no, a dozen guys that are to your liking so you can feast on them" Bruce replied clearly flustered.

"Oooooh, my little Bruce, I think you've missed the point. Why would I want to devour people who are not even good as a first course, when I have the most delicious dish of the feast in front of me? Ironic, isn't it, the hunter becomes the prey, and it's about time someone showed you where you belong: in the stomach of a true alpha!!!! Guuuuuuuulp. Aaaaaaaaah, how I love to serve justice. Be comfortable in there, little buddy, soon my metabolism will transform you into a simple soup to feed this superior body. BuuuuUUuuRp"

[basalting]

a good fuckin' day

i tried so hard to have no angst in this but... alas

day two of @jasontoddweek2025 - joker - chronic pain - fear toxin

Jason is sleeping when it happens. OR, Jason Todd on the day the Joker dies.

jason todd & babs gordon, jason todd & bruce wayne - character death (obviously) - 3064 words

Jason is still sleeping when it happens.

Barely two hours after he collapsed into bed, still in his boots and jacket, a piercing alarm from the discarded helmet jolted him awake. Snarling curses and stumbling out of bed, Jason jammed an ear piece in, he and Babs had an agreement. She only ever contacted him if she had info on people fucking around in his territory or if there was an actually serious ‘all hands on deck’ type emergency, on pain of Jason destroying every bat bug he knew was planted and going to ground for at least 6 months.

After finally finishing rooting out a arms smuggling deal that included assholes trying to slip in faulty weapons guaranteed to explode and some idiot trying their hand at being the next Scarecrow, if this was anything less than the fucking apocalypse, Jason might have to break the duffel bag out again.

“Fuckin’ what?!”

“You haven’t heard yet?” Barbie’s voice was unfiltered for once, she sounded… Exhilarated? Shocked? There was some repressed emotion in the barely there tremble in her voice. Jason went still, mind racing. There hadn’t been any whispers of the big movers doing anything. When he’d finally dragged his weary ass home, Gotham had been at as much equilibrium as it ever had.

“Heard what O?”

Babs was quiet for a moment, Jason’s shoulders were starting to ache from how tense he was. “Jay… I need you to know that what I’m about to tell you is true, my Dad and B are already on the scene and they’ve confirmed it’s real. Okay?”

Oh fuck, Jason thought, Dick’s dead.

That had to be it, there was no other reason for Babs to ring the alarm. For B and the commish to be confirming T.O.D. Dickhead was dead.

His hands were shaking, his breathing kept even only by force of habit. Fuck. Dick was supposed to be coming to ‘Lian’s-giving.’ That stupid fuck-ass holiday Roy threw every year for Lian’s not-birthday that the old Titans and the Outlaws were all dragged into. Dick promised to teach her to juggle this year. Now he was dead.

Faintly he heard Babs talking, her voice getting louder and more urgent. He didn’t know if he could listen to it, if he could handle hearing how Dick had died. Didn’t know if he could handle not knowing.

“Jason!”

“Fuck!”

Babs’ voice was suddenly a roar in his ear, volume remotely increased so that it set his head ringing.

“Sorry,” Babs said, at a less ear piercing level, “you went dead silent on me Jay. Did you hear me?”

“Yeah…” Jason sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face and leaning back against the table. “So… How’d it happen?”

“They’ll need to do an autopsy,” Just the word made Jason’s skin crawl, “but it’s looking like a ischaemic stroke. There’s no wounds on the body. Well,” There was bitter amusement in Babs voice, “no fresh wounds.”

“Jesus…” A stroke. A fucking stroke is what got Dick? Not any of this cape life bullshit? Unless the stroke is because of all the head trauma that hard-headed ass has- had gone through.

“If you wanted to go see, maybe go piss on the body for me, I’ll send you the location.”

”What the fuck did you just say?” Jason snarled, “You think I’m gonna fucking piss on Dick’s body? You think I’m that much of a fucking bastard? You can go fuck yourself Barbara you fucking sanctimonious fu-“

Barbara’s sounded baffled as she, once again, overrode his volume - partially deafening him, “Who said anything about Dick?”

“What?”

“What?”

There was a beat of silence before Barbara slowly asked, “Jason… Why do you think I want you to… piss on Dick?”

“He’s dead isn’t he.” Jason said flatly, staring at the gloomy sky through his shitty cracked window. “That’s why you used the emergency line.”

“Oh Jay,” Barbara said with a soft laugh, “Dick’s fine. I told B to update him and he’s been blowing up my phone. He’s doing shots in San Fran’ right now to celebrate.”

“Oh…” The relief almost made his head spin, Dick was still alive to be an annoying (and annoyingly helpful) shithead. Still alive to teach Lian how to juggle and to scream a little sense into B’s dense fucking skull and to fuck around at the edge of Red Hood’s territory on quiet nights until they ended up in a game of city-wide tag.

“Then what the fuck Barbie? Who’s fuckin’ dead??”

“The Joker!” Babs burst out, delighted and vindicated and shaking with relief. "That's what I was trying to tell you!"

Jason fully collapsed, legs giving out from under him. It didn’t seem real, couldn’t be real. Finally, after years of torment and a mountain of bodies and so much fucking pain. The Joker… dead?

“You’re sure?” He asked urgently, hand coming up to cup his ear, as if it might disappear before Babs could talk, “You’re really sure? He’s dead? And it’s him? Not a fucking clone or a- fuck a body double or- or- a shitty cosplayer? Or-“

“It’s him Jason.” Her voice was soft, throwing him back to his Robin days, to one of the serial killer cases they’d worked, to Batgirl gently pulling out of a room soaked in old blood and stinking of rot. (Cass and Steph carried her mantle well, but Babs would always be Jason’s Batgirl.) “I’ve got CCTV of his cell leading back to when B dropped him off after his last break out. I’ve scrubbed through all of it, there’s nothing missing. Dad’s already sent off for a DNA test and B’s got his own samples to check. But yeah Jay, it’s really him.”

Tears, hot as blood, carved burning lines down his cheeks. He inhaled shakily, “Can you- Can you send it to me? The footage. I need to- I need to see.”

“Of course Jay.” A beat of quiet, “Do you want to see him? To go check yourself? Dad’s holding people off until B clears out, we can get you in to see him before he’s taken to the morgue.”

Jason was tired, he fucking stunk to be honest, he needed a shower and a meal and about sixteen beers and a nap, in no particular order.

But he needed to see. It wouldn’t be real, until he saw.

“Yeah… You want me to pick you up? I’ll brace him so you can run him over.”

Babs laughed, too loud with relief, “Nah, I’ll go once he’s at the morgue. I want to make sure the coroners report is done before I let Harley know.”

Jason’s smile was wide and tear stained and bloodthirsty, at the thought of Harley finding out the Joker was dead. For real, not coming back, was exhilarating. He’d never like Harley, knew she was a victim of the Joker’s as well, but part of him would always wonder if she would’ve laughed at the Joker killing him if she’d still be with him at the time. But he knew she helped Babs out. Occasionally moonlighted as one of Babs’ Birds of Prey, and - from one Joker survivor to another - he wouldn’t begrudge her this joy.

“I’ll head to Arkham then. See ya later O.”

No time for a shower, Jason dropped the ear piece on the table as he hauled himself over to the sink to wash his face. Bruce would just have to deal with him, stinking and lightly bloodstained and all.

—————

Arkham was a rotten shithole, as always. The Bridge was closed off, cop cars blocking the entrance, but when Red Hood rolled up an officer muttered into her radio, waited a moment then motioned to one of the cars.

“Hey Hood,” Her voice was the harsh rasp of someone who smoked a lot, tired eyes squinting at his helmet above where his eyes were, “Give the bastard a kick in the nuts for me would ya?”

Hood nodded, riding between the cars as soon as the gap widened. Arkham’s gates were open, unsurprisingly, the floodlights on bright even against the gloomy morning and, more surprisingly, RR’s bike was parked by the entrance. Hood skidded to a stop, spraying some of the gravel over RR’s bike as he parked.

“Seriously?” The doors to Arkam swung open and Red Robin stomped out, a matte black bag almost invisible under his cape. “You can’t not be an asshole for one fucking day?”

“I never take a day off.” Hood responded, voice scrambler disguising his smirk from everyone except RR himself. “Is that-?”

“Yes.” RR said business-like, brushing the larger pieces of gravel off his seat and making a face at the dust. “Batman is still with the commissioner but he asked me to do a pick up so we can start analyzing the evidence as soon as possible.”

Translation: B’s a paranoid fuck and if this isn’t the real Joker he wants to know as quickly as possible. If it wasn’t the Joker, somehow. Then B would want to start investigating who might be helping the Joker fake his death and go to ground. Not that Jason could blame him, he fully intended to take his own samples. Just to make sure.

“Surprised he could even reach out,” Hood said quietly, ducking in close to muffle his words from the asylum workers and cops milling about, “Thought you kept your shit on DND when you’re at your boyfriends.”

“I was already awake,” RR muttered back, fussing with the bag as he settled on his bike.

“Oh my,” Hood grinned, “gettin’ it early Red? So was it your wake up call? Or his?”

RR’s face didn’t twitch but Hood saw those ears turning red. “Goodbye Hood.”

Hood cackled as he watched RR race out the gates and down the bridge, before shouldering his way through the doors. A shrink tried to stop him as he stalked through the halls, but Red Hood simply ignored them. Babs directions were pulled up on his HUD and even the rabbits warren that was Arkham wouldn’t keep him distracted.

The Joker had been hidden away in the isolation cells of the high security (HA!) patient ward, it was eerily quiet when Hood finally approached the open door. Commissioner Gordon looked like shit, exhausted and coffee-stained, his tie mostly undone and a fresh cigarette clenched between his teeth. He nodded at Hood when he stepped into the cell.

“Any other bats or birds I should expect this morning?” He said it with the tired amusement of someone who didn’t expect an answer.

“No.” B slowly lifted his head, still crouched over the body that looked like it had fallen off the bed. “Red Hood is the only one coming to Arkham.” A pause. “There will probably be break ins at the morgue.”

“Fuck me.” Gordon sighed. B and Hood shrugged at him, the Joker had a lot of enemies and a lot of people who’d love to take a swing at his corpse.

Hood crouched next to Batman, snapping on the gloves Batman silently offered him. The body was almost skeletally thin, greasy hair a sickly green and the bright orange Arkham jumpsuit made the pale skin almost ghostly. Hood grabbed a fistful of hair and tilted the head towards him.

The body was stiff, rigor mortis keeping the neck tight and inflexible, Batman braced a hand on the body’s shoulder - helping move it without adding more damage. The Joker’s unpainted face grinned back at him. Hood almost jolted back, almost expected the Joker to pop his eyes fully open and laugh in his face. Batman shifted, pressing his knee into Hood’s thigh.

The helmet captured the sound of his shaky breath before it could be heard. He nodded slightly at Batman, letting him brace the Joker’s body while Hood pulled out a small samples kit.

“Seriously?” Gordon groaned, “Is there going to be any fucking blood left for my coroner once you’re all done with him? I thought you were trying to prevent the vampire accusations Batman.”

B grunted, tapping a gloved hand to the puncture wound he’d taken his sample from. “The average male adult body has 5.7 litres of blood, I highly doubt your coroner will notice a few vials of blood missing.”

Hood side-eyed Batman through his helmet, somehow he thought Batman had taken more than a couple vials of blood on his own. The blood was thick and dark in the vial, already coagulating in the veins. Hood tucked his (single) vial into the kit, bagging some hairs he carelessly ripped out of the scalp and swapping the inside of the clowns mouth before he nodded for Batman to let go. Batman lowered the body gently, more to preserve the scene than out of respect for the body.

“Y’done then?” Gordon asked, ashing his cigarette into the small toilet in the cell.

Hood started to nod as he and Batman rose to their feet when he paused, grinned, and then said, “Well, O did have a request for me.”

B went still at his tone, and Gordon frowned at him. Gordon knew who Oracle was, even if everyone politely pretended he didn’t, “What’d she want?”

“She asked me to piss on the clowns corpse so-“ Hood hooked his hand in the waistband of his jeans, Gordon jolted cursing before Batman sighed and put a hand on his elbow.

“Please don’t tamper with the crime scene Red Hood.”

“Fine.” Hood send turning on his heel, more than ready to be out of this cell, out of Arkham as a whole. Dick had the right idea, he’d set the samples analyzing and then get spectacularly wasted. “Later Commish, B.”

Without looking back, without stopping, Hood left the Joker’s corpse in it’s pathetic cell.

——————

Jason made it out of Arkham, into the city proper and most of the way home before his hands started shaking too hard for him to stay straight on his bike. His chest was tight, dizzy as if he couldn’t breath properly. He dumped his bike in one of the hidden cache’s he wasn’t supposed to know about and hunkered down on the roof of a nearby building. Below him Gotham was alive with people, cars honking and people chattering and it was a dizzying, frenetic mess that he couldn’t quite focus on.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he freaking out??

Shouldn’t there be less shit to freak out about? The clown was dead. Why was he still freaking out?

There was a soft scuff on the ground.

“Hood.”

Batman folded himself down, crouching well out of Jason’s reach. Or- No, crouching so Jason/was out of his reach, with his freaky long ass gibbon arms. Jason pressed harder against the air conditioning unit against his back, the firm pressure forcing him into the here and now.

“Jay-lad…”

Batman flicked the opaque lens away from his cowl, tired and worried blue eyes tracked over him. “You’re alright lad.” Bruce said quietly, “You’re safe.”

“I don’t- I don’t get why,” Jason gasped out, clawing at his helmet and dropping it at his side. The sweat from wearing a full cover helmet and the sweat from this- this fucking panic attack made him feel kind of like he was drowning with it on. “I was fine! So why-“

“It’s alright,” Bruce soothed, his eyes cold and gentle. Bruce was always easiest to understand when you looked at his eyes. Privately Jason thought that was why he developed the opaque lens, why Brucie Wayne was defined by his lazy half lidded gaze. “You don’t-“ Bruce hesitated a bit, eyes pinching at the corners. “You don’t have to be fine, Jason. It’s okay if you aren’t. I-“ Bruce inhaled, set his shoulders.

“I’m not fine.”

Despite himself, Jason barked out a laugh. “That’s obvious old man.”

Bruce huffed a laugh, “Guess I walked into that one. No Jason, I mean I’m not fine about the Joker. Being dead.” Bruce’s fists clenched, “I’ve thought he was dead before, been sure of it. I hope all the samples prove it’s him. I hope he’s really truly dead. But I’ve bet on the Joker being gone before and I don’t know if I can ever trust that he’s truly gone. And that’s okay.”

Bruce shuffled closer, inch by inch, until he could hold Jason’s hands. So gently that the rough textured material of his gauntlets didn’t hurt at all. “It’s okay if you can’t believe it yet Jason. Or ever.”

Jason sighed, tipped forward until his forehead thunked onto the hard line of the Batsuit. Breathed.

“Yeah.” He said eventually, “It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get ya, right old man?”

Bruce huffed again, “That’s right Jay-lad.” He lifted a hand up, gently stroked it through Jason’s hair. On any other day Jason wouldn’t of allowed it, would’ve already snapped at B and run off.

But today the Joker was dead.

Today he could let his- his dad comfort him.

They stayed together, in the bubble of quiet on the roof, until Jason’s hands stopped shaking. Until breathing felt less like a fight.

“I should go.” Jason muttered finally, leaning out of Bruce’s hold to pick up his helmet. “Need to go shower ‘n’ shit.”

“Well,” Bruce said, “I didn’t want to say anything lad, but you are smelling a little ripe.”

Jason paused, then lunged. Bruce rolled away from the wild grab, pulling out his grapple. “Come back here mother fucker! You want ripe, I’ll fucking show you ripe you old fuck!”

Bruce leapt off the roof, grappling away. Towards the batmobile and off to return to the manor.

And Jason turned away, leaping off the roof towards home. Towards his bed and his shower and the six-pack of beer in his fridge.

Before his feet Gotham pulsed with life, the story must of broken because he could hear people gasping. Snippets of conversation. All saying the same thing.

’He’s dead-’

’The Joker’s dead!’

’Found dead in Arkham-‘

’-good riddance-‘

’about fucking time!’

’-today’s gonna be a good fuckin’ day.’

Jason laughed, arched into his next swing. The Joker is dead, he thought. It was a good fuckin’ day.

[skkmamsbrainrot]

Batboys' Favourite Animals

Dick would always say it was elephants, would say he liked how they remembered everything, but they weren't actually. He loved elephants, don't get him wrong, but his true favourite animals were bats. Elephants symbolized his life with his parents, his life before the accident. Bats symbolized, and continue to symbolize, his life with Bruce and his siblings, his life after the accident. Bats brought him out of a dark place in a way no one else could, and he tore through Bats' walls like no one had before except for Alfred. Dick forged the path of Robin and Bats branching out. After all, it was because of, at the time, Robin that he had joined the Justice League in the first place.

Jason would always say it was wolves, would say he liked how ruthless they were, but deep down he knew it was bats. While Bats may have been part of the reason he knew what dying felt like, he was also the reason Jason knew what not dying was like. On that day, in the alleyway that Jason stole his tires, he knows he would have died soon after, if not that day then in the days following. But Bats took him in that day. He gave him everything he could, and then Jason had died. But even after everything, from Jason dying, hating him because he let him die, to thinking that Tim was his replacement, he still took Jason in again. For that, Jason will always be thankful.

Tim would always say it was birds, would say he liked their freedom, but that wasn't true. He would never admit it, but bats are his favourite. In the time when he and Bats were both truly alone, they found company and solace in the other. They were able to find friends, and eventually family, in each other. It allows them to be closer together than ever before, relishing in the fact that they have had similar experiences. They were both boys in upper-economy Gotham with absent parents (though Alfred could have counted, he would never truly be Bruce's mother or father). They were both geniuses who noticed and knew too much for their age. They understood each other in a way no one else could, because no one else had had that experience quite like they had.

Damian would always tell you it was panthers, but it was, thruthfully, bats. He enjoyed how they always seemed to stay together, and that they had their own secret language they used to communicate. How anyone could ever not find echolocation fascinating was beyond him. Damian liked how even when pups grow into adults they weren't forced to leave the cauldron. Instead, they could stay and help it, adding to the numbers or helping with food and territory. He wanted that. He wanted to be valued and allowed to stay so he could help. So maybe if he held out a silent hope that one day, if and when he makes it to adulthood, he could be treasured enough to keep close, it might happen?

(I find it incredibly ironic that the creature Bruce fears is the same that his children all love.)

[chaoswarfare]

~Tim ‘drake’ Drake~

Tim is a drake. Well, not a ‘Drake', Drake, but a drake. Let’s try that again- Tim Drake is a dragon. A scaly shapeshifting menace of a creature that terrorizes humans and burns villages. Not that he knew that from the beginning.

It all started when Janet and Jack Drake found an interesting rock at an archeological site, that seemed to be some sort of massive fossilized egg based on the tough pitted shell. True to their habit of hoarding interesting finds to themselves, they brought it home with them.

And then it hatched.

And the large wingless lizard turned into a baby.

Now, admitting that the baby wasn’t theirs would be a problem in the sense that they would have to admit that they’ve been stealing from dig sites for over a decade. Getting rid of the child wouldn’t be an option either, Janet’s always been squeamish about these sorts of things, and Jack wouldn’t want to upset her like that. So the only option left to them was to keep it and claim the child was theirs.

And thus, Tim the drake became Tim Drake. Irony at it’s finest if you’d ask him.

—————————-

It wasn’t easy growing up in a household where any adults would be out for months at a time, but Tim made do. It was hard for him, always turning around expecting someone to be there, and it always just being him all alone. He dove into his hobbies to take his mind off of it, learning to play the violin and piano at a frightening rate and picking up knowledge as fast as he could get his claws on it.

He particularly loved the ancient folktales of the dragons, whatever part of the world they were from. Feeling the shivers of his scales rattling underneath his skin as the mythical beasts fought to defend what was theirs. Even if it was rather disappointing when they lost.

Starting school was probably the first time Tim had ever been able to compare himself to the humans of his age.

It was horrible. The children attending his classes didn’t see things the same way. On top of that they weren’t as… well developed you could say. They were soft and fragile, and had trouble comprehending the simplest of things, that Tim has been aware of for years.

It didn’t take them long to move him up a few grades to better learn at his current level, but that didn’t help anything. While the children of the higher grades were much more mature than his former classmates, they detested having someone so much younger than them thriving in the class they thought was difficult. Tim didn’t make any friends there either.

The only solace for Tim was going out at night. It felt better being awake under the stars rather than the sun’s harsh light, and hopping between the roofs of Gotham felt so right being that high off the earth. Everything from the wind in his hair to the smell of the sky so high from the general smog of the lower city levels. It felt more like home that the Drake Manor ever did.

He started taking his camera out with him to shoot photos of the skyline and trying to capture the joy of flying across the rooftops. That’s when he first saw the Bats. They were out very nearly every night, doing the exact same things he was doing, and fighting the dangers of their territory while they were at it! Tim knew he would learn a lot following them on their patrols.

So that’s exactly what he did.

He didn’t put the pieces together until he saw Robin do a quadruple somersault, and realized that he was Dick Greyson. It was easy enough to figure out who Batman was after that. All it really meant to Tim though was Bruce Wayne was a much better ‘prince’ of the city than he had thought previously. Every gala he went to where the two were at he watched them interact with the rest of the 1% who attended the galas. His parents even had him shake hands with them once!

It really upset him when the first Robin split from Batman when they started fighting, but then Jason became Robin afterwards. Tim was overjoyed. Dick may have been a wonderful Robin, but he was different than Jason. Jason was kind and witty in ways he wasn’t, and was clearly a born Gothamite. It made him feel that much more relatable.

——————

It hadn’t really set in before now how dangerous following them could be. Sure, before there would be an occasional bullet whizzing past his hiding spots, or a thug would get just a bit too close, but the thing that really cemented it was dangling by the scruff of his neck being held by Batman of all people.

He had raced after Robin too fast to try and get a better action shot of him swinging on his grapple, and just about flew off the edge of the building. It still didn’t feel scary to Tim, the falling that is, he’d fallen from higher up with only some bruising to show for his troubles, but Batman clearly thought differently.

The terror of being caught in someone else’s territory was causing Tim to panic just a little, and Bruce’s deep raspy growl wasn’t helping him at all. He wriggled and kicked at the arm holding him as he was lectured, and eventually got fed up and pulled himself up and sank his teeth into Batman’s gauntleted arm. The shock of his teeth going right through his armor caused him to drop tim(a measly three stories), and he was back on his feet and sprinting away before Batman could get his wits about him.

———————-

The nights after they kept looking for Tim. Tim kept hiding, only coming out for the best pictures. Who knew if Batman would be man at him after all.

Eventually the search died down though, and the usual routine fell into place. Tim chasing them with the camera, The Bats taking down criminals, and Then all of them returning to their homes, with none of them realizing Tim lived just down the street.

They kept going to the galas and Tim even became friends a bit with Jason, albeit in the way people just talk to each other out of a shared hatred for large events. Tim’s parents come home and leave barely a week later, and Tim fights the urge to ask to go with them. They won’t say yes.

Then the unthinkable happened. Robin disappeared.

At first Tim thought it was the same kind of spat that Bruce and Dick used to get into with the increasing level of violence Batman put on criminals. And then the news broke about Jason’s death. They were never truly friends or even met in any memorable capacity(for Jason), but Tim couldn’t imagine the boy not in his life patrolling the gotham skyline and grumpily sulking around the buffet tables at galas.

Batman continued to get worse and worse and Tim didn’t know what to do except try and get the Justice League to realize what was happening in Gotham. He called and called and left so many hundreds of messages and letters and emails, until they told him to stop trying to contact them. With them cut off, Tim turned to Bludhaven to try and convince Dick to take up being nightwing again. He didn’t want anything to do with it either.

That night tim lost control of his form with the extent of his emotions for the first time in years.

With no no other options left, he walked the mile-and-a-half trek to the Wayne Manor to talk to Bruce himself. It took a lot of convincing, but he finally allowed Tim to help him, even just as a temporary Robin. Tim could do that. Just until Bruce got back on his feet and no longer.

He didn’t treat Tim like either of the other Robins, but that was fine. He wasn’t part of the family after all, no matter how often he stayed over, or Alfred made food for the both of them instead of just Bruce. Dick was over a lot to see him, and Tim figured this was his way of missing Jason. Just like being Robin for Batman was Tim’s.

——————————

Tim didn’t know what set it off, and told him something was wrong.

Nothing seemed wrong in the tower, even if it was quiet since none of the rest of his team was in there, there was nothing out of place and no odd smells in the air, but something was setting off his instincts anyway.

His eyes flicked back to track a shadow for a moment before it disappeared back down the hallway. The lights flickered and went off right at that moment, and Tim realized something must be seriously wrong.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly as his daylight filters receded into his eyelids and he tried not to breathe too loudly in case he missed something vital. Tim finally gave up on whatever the threat was coming to him and set off down the pitch black hallway. Every single footstep echoed creepily and he would shudder if he wasn’t able to tell exactly where the sounds were coming from.

He wandered towards the stairs to get down to the zeta tubes, but froze when he heard a single breath that wasn’t his own. Before he had time to process it, Red Hood was already on him and had him in a headlock that was rapidly cutting off his air.

“You really think you’re tough shit, huh replacement?” The modulated voice ground out far too loud next to his ear. Tim struggled and kicked, but couldn’t wriggle his fingers between the Hood’s arm and his neck. He didn’t stop struggling even when he felt a blade rest against his neck, or when Hood kept talking about something or other. He could feel the burning in his core creeping its way up his throat and had to get free.

suddenly a line of pain opened up on his neck, and he hit the ground in a pile. Red Hood didn’t wait to make sure he wasn’t bleeding out before he started beating Tim up where he was lying on the floor. Tim watched in horror as he took off his helmet and revealed the face underneath it. That was Jason, the same Jason who Tim used to follow around obsessively, and idolized before he died. And now he was here, back, to oust Tim from the territory he stole and reclaim his spot.

Tim cried out as Jason stomped on his fingers and the scales under the bruised skin ground together with a sound like bones snapping.

And then Jason.

Kicked him.

Down.

The.

Stairs.

It bruised his outside skin terribly, and the false nerves still sent his brain the same pain signals. Tim groaned from his place on the floor, and shrieked as a gunshot went off and a bullet buried itself under the skin of his thigh as the wound bled sluggishly. The damned thing had ricocheted up underneath his scales and his brain was fuzzy with the agony of it. It was so much worse that any damage to his human skin.

Jason hovers around for just a few minutes, smearing something on the walls, and then takes his leave without another word to Tim. Maybe he thought he had passed out. Figures he would think Tim is that weak.

As soon as the sounds disappear, Tim digs into the bullet wound and allows two of his claws to slice through the skin of his fingers to use as tweezers. His vision keeps flashing with white throughout the whole process, and as soon as the bullet plinks onto the ground, Tim really does pass out.

And then he wakes up in the Batcave, with Leslie Thompkins hovering over him, Waiting to grill him for answers as to how he has smooth midnight blue scales underneath his skin.

—————————-

Tim stayed in Doc. Thompkin’s care for three more days, in which he had to explain his suspicions about his origins. She was a good listener and only noted down the important medical issues in his folder of nothing else. She kept Bruce mostly out of the medical wing past the report of what happened, and put away any of his medical records as soon as any of the family walked in.

Alfred worried as good as the best of them, offering Tim soup and drinks and obviously trying to take his mind off the fact that Jason was back. Tim appreciated the attention anyway, most of the time he just came over to patrol and then went back to the Drake Manor. He sobered quickly at the thought that Jason wanted his spot back.

He knows logically how he would feel if someone came out of nowhere and stole what was his, so he can’t even be truly mad about it since he understands where he’s coming from a bit. For some reason, though, Bruce and Dick don’t see it the same way. Tim just didn’t get why they were so upset about it, as soon as Jason got what he wanted or Bruce put an end to it, it would all be over. That’s how it’s supposed to work.

Maybe Tim was just the one confused. The dynamics of the Wayne family seem so different than what he’s used to after all. The Drakes would never treat him this kindly- especially if he was injured. This kind of coddling would be unheard of, and they would get frustrated and leave for another dig within a few days.

Bruce and Alfred and Dick and now Cass and Stephanie- they weren’t like that. They hovered and wouldn’t let him go on patrol until it was safe and Jason was caught, and they cared! they cared so much about Tim’s safety and health and he wasn’t even a part of their family, he was just placeholding until a new Robin could be chosen.

He can’t help but wonder how they would react if they knew.

—————————-

Red Hood ended up probationally re-joining the Batclan and Tim was suddenly almost murdered a lot less. He knew that would happen when he finally got told by Bruce that he wouldn’t be getting the Joker’s head on a stick or whatever it was he was so set on.

However now Bruce has brought home his blood son from where he’s been living with the League of Assassins.

Damian was loud and obnoxious about how ‘he is the only blood son’ and ‘the rest of you are only placeholders and not worthy of Father’s attention’ which may be true in Tim’s case, but it’s entirely unfair to say that to the others, who are in fact Waynes, whether Damian likes it or not.

And he seems to be leaning heavily towards ‘not’ based on how he’s begun to take it out on Tim. He sets traps and Outright attacks him during training, and if Tim’s senses weren’t as good as they were then he definitely would have succeeded in killing him in his sleep one night. He’s even been thrown off the dinosaur and the railing of the cave.

Damian will just. Not. Quit.

It was fine, everything was still fine until Bruce disappeared. He was gone. Everyone was convinced that he was gone for good. Red Hood disappeared back to Crime Alley, Cass left for Hong Kong, even Dick took up the mantle of Batman and gave Robin away from Tim to give to Damian to appease him.

But Tim could still smell him. Bruce’s scent floated around in odd places, seemingly from nowhere. And whenever Tim brought up Bruce being potentially alive it just upset everyone more and more, until Dick outright threatened to put him in Arkham.

And then Tim struck out on his own. Partially to find Bruce.

Partially because he knows where he’s not wanted.

————————

About two months three days and eleven hours into his journey, Tim starts to get an unbearable itch whenever he’s in his human form. Whenever he even thinks of staying in his false skin, even for a minute his scales itch like they’ve got termites underneath them.

And so he hunkers down in a cave and waits for it to pass.

Soon the itching comes back, on his shoulder blades and down his spine the itch settles into what feels like his bones, and he takes to rubbing on the stone walls of the cave to get rid of the godforsaken itch, even just for a moment.

After what could only have been days of unbearable suffering at the hands of the itching, the skin of his back splits upon, and gives his new wings the chance to open fully for the first time. He cranes his neck back as he fans them, catching the air and drying the skin of the clear slime that they had burst from. Tim’s surprised to be proud of his wings that he didn’t know he would have, the way the blues catch the sunlight from the opening of the cave when the scales are angled just so.

He wished he could show them to Bruce.

The thought surprised him as he crouched in the cold cave on the mountainside, and he couldn’t help but wince at the knowledge that Bruce would probably chase him out of the city.

He doesn’t like metas after all, so why would he want a dragon shifter meta anywhere near his city. Tim shook his head and test flapped his wings a couple times to gauge how they caught the air.

It’s time to find his Bruce.

——————————

Tim found flying to be his new favorite thing.

The night winds carried him farther and faster than any vehicle could before in the direction he caught Bruce’s scent, hiding as plain old Tim at dig sites and grabbing any evidence he could.

Because Bruce was alive, and he was trapped in time.

Tim had already found several clues in different eras and time periods that could only be Bruce letting him know where he was. Even after so long, on some of them he could still catch some of his scent.

Everything was going alright until he caught the attention of Ra’s Al Ghul, Damian’s grandfather. The old bastard has been hiding out in Nanda Parbat for decades, commanding assassinations all over the world. And now he’s noticed Tim, and potentially what he is as well. At least given the assassins he sent to retrieve him, to discuss information about Bruce.

And Tim can’t refuse for that.

———————————-

Ra’s is almost a good host, despite definitely having him drugged on the way there.

Tim woke up in what he presumed would be his room, complete with clothes in the closet and servants waiting on his needs. Ra’s called for him immediately after he woke up, and as he walked behind the assassin sent to fetch him, he couldn’t help but notice the growing unease he felt as he grew closer to Ra’s guest area. There was a strange heavy smell that lingered in his nostrils, and he fought the urge to growl as the warmth in his belly built up to be stiflingly hot.

Tim realized why as soon as he was deposited in what could only be a throne room. The decorations all sparkled and smelled of what Tim immediately recognized as gold, and the tapestries and carpets were of the highest quality he had ever seen. They were nothing to the huge deep forest green dragon lounging on the throne.

Tim hadn’t exactly spent much time looking at his true form in the mirror, but he knew for certain that Ra’s looked very different from him. He had a heavy crest over his eyes for one that Tim lacked, and he had two pairs of horns, one of which swooped out behind his head and the other curled behind his ears, and his head was much boxier of a shape, but had a regal curve to his snout regardless. disregarding all of that, he was almost four times Tim’s size.

He was incredibly dangerous.

Ra’s let his head drift from side to side like a snake getting ready to strike as he watched Tim, before lounging back on his throne as if Tim wasn’t truly worth his time.

“Well? It’s considered rude among our kind to address one another in disguise, little Robin.” Ra’s hissed and flicked his tail at Tim in disdain. “Did your dam never even teach you proper etiquette?”

Tim shuddered as he tried to make sense of what was going on, heaving breaths as he locked eyes with the massive beast across the room from him.

“Ah, she didn’t. I presume that you’ve never met her then. Don’t worry little Robin,” Ra’s rumbled “This will prove to be very educational.”

And then Tim fainted.

————————

The next months he spent learning from Ra’s what it meant to be a dragon, how all the weird impulses and oddities he’d had over the years was his instincts, and he was never truly human in the first place. It took tim a very long time to grow used to being in another dragon’s territory without any immediate risk of being chased out, but ra’s assured him that was normal.

With every month Tim spent out in Nanda Parbat learning about his true form and instincts and what all that means, he grew to miss the Wayne’s more and more. Bruce was still out there and he had to get him back to Gotham where he belongs.

One night tim sneaks out of the temple and is halfway back across the alps before Ras even notices.

Soon, with the evidence that hes collected on his quest he finally reaches gotham to deliver everything they need to get bruce back to the league. He doesn’t stop in gotham, but flies directly to the zeta tubes in the tower and summons his second skin just to zeta up to the watchtower and deliver his information.

But they already knew.

Throughout all the time he had been gone they had also been collecting the information and they were very nearly where tim himself was at when he brought his evidence back. Downcast, Tim returned to Gotham to see how the Wayne's were doing.

It felt odd after all this time to travel the human way. He’s gotten so used to flying everywhere that it seems ridiculously inconvenient now that he has to hide his form again.

He's suddenly drawn back to the fact that Bruce and the others have no idea that he’s a dragon. the imaginings of the looks of horror on their faces as he sheds his skin takes over his mind. He can’t do that to them. can’t let them cast him out like that. Tim makes up his mind about it one last time

He won’t tell them.

it’s for the best.

—————————

Tim makes it back to the manor at the same time that dick and Damian leave for patrol, just missing them. entirely purposely on his part, but he's not ready to face them before alfred. to his shock, Cass is back in the manor, her stuff is right where it used to be in her room, and there’s even evidence of Jason having been around lately.

Tim doesn’t know what to think about the fact that everyone seems to have moved on without him and Bruce there with them. It hurts because they’re his people and they don’t need or want time there.

Turning a corner to go back to the room he used to spend the night in, he realizes downcastedly that it seems to have been repurposed as an art studio of some kind. his scales itch under his skin at the idea that they wanted him gone so much that they would actively erase every trace of him from the house.

Tim decides it’s not worth it before anyone gets back from patrol, he sneaks back out the way he came in and sulks all the way back to drake manor, empty as always where he can brood and be himself.

A place that he could never do at the house he considers home.

A house that has very visibly stated that it wants him gone. Tim wouldn’t be surprised if they changed out all his gear and even changed the zeta in the cave to keep him out at this point either, tears starting to prick at the edges of his vision.

It’s not home.

It’s not home it's not home it's not home anymore.

They replaced him.

No that’s not right, he was the one that replaced someone else, and now that he’s back there’s no more need for Tim to hang around, he’s outlived his usefulness. He’s come to terms with the fact that his parents never wanted him either, so with a heavy heart he starts packing his bags to go back to nanda parbat to be either the manipulator that at least understands how it feels to be tim

It's time to go back to the demon's lair.

————————

Dick catches him on the way out of Drake Manor to tell him they’re getting Bruce back and he was vital to the mission.

He claims to have missed Tim a lot along with the rest of the family, but Tim struggles to believe in his words with Damian scowling like a little demon behind him. Tim tries to explain that he’s just getting out of their hair when Red Hood pulls up on his motorcycle asking if they’ve found Tim and then stops dead when he sees him. it’s like they actually missed him

Tim hesitates for just a moment before pushing his way out of the hug and turning away. He has unfinished business with rad and he can’t let this stop him no matter how much he wants to stay. At the very least he will be returning this time and he tells them that before he goes and boards the bus to take him to the airport for appearances sake.

On the plane he glances out the window and wonders if they’ll still miss him the same once Bruce is back or if they’ll just discard him again once there’s no longer a place missing in the family.

Tim still doesn’t know.

—————————-

After getting back to Nanda Parbat to face down Ra’s he’s greeted with a frantic swarm of servants dragging him down the hall away from where he can hear terrifying roars and snarls and crashes coming from.

It could only be Ra’s, and Tim realized he was right when he walks into the stone room containing the lazarus pits and Ra’s is thrashing and howling in rage. Rage at Tim for thinking he could leave without his permission, or that he would take his hospitality for granted like that.

Ra’s had gone completely mad once he realized Tim was gone and couldn’t be calmed down until they had found him again. Tim had had enough of this

Ra’s had treated him nothing but coldly and contemptuously since he had requested he come to nanda parbat, and tim was boiling with enough rage to raise the temperature around him.

Ra’s seemed to notice this and only got more angry at tim, and he lunged at the smaller dragon without warning to fling him by the neck into a nearby wall, tim staggered to his feet and threw himself at ras, using his small side to his advantage as he scrabbled over the larger dragon leaving deep bites and scratches as he went, and just as ras lunged towards him with open jaws as he was tossed from his back, tim finally opened his jaws and let loose the flame he had been holding back for the last 16 years. It stuck to the sides of Ra’s face and ate away at the scales and flesh like some sort of potent acid as he shrieked and writhed in agony as Tim watched.

Figured he didn’t know that Tim could do that.

Serves him right.

Tim watched until the bleached white bones showed through more than flesh and then left, the lazarus pits couldn’t repair that kind of damage and he knew it. Tim figured it was time to pack up and go home.

It was time to try and be with his family again.

———————

Two days after Bruce was returned they got the news of Ra’s death. Talia had been the one to step up to become Demon’s head instead of Damian, and she filled the role better than Ra’s ever had.

Damian wasn’t handling it nearly as well and Tim kept finding him listless about what to do now that he wouldn’t be the demon head, until he started really pursuing a life with the Waynes.

Nobody else knew what had happened at Nanda Parbat, nobody else was in the base at the point of Ra’s death, except Tim And Ra’s and Ra’s had killed most everyone that had known about tim and who he was.

Bruce was actually glad to have Tim back and thankful about how he had helped get him out of the time stream.

The others never got over being happy that Tim was back either, even Damian grew to actually seem to like his company after a while. alfred told him that it was because they all actually considered him part of the family, which only drew him deeper into the family circle the more often they would repeat it to him.

Everything was good, everyone was together, and Tim was happy.

They still didn’t know about him and Bruce was still adamant about not allowing metas in the city. Sometimes when a meta rogue would slip into the city Bruce would go out to take care of them personally just to reinforce the assumption that metas weren’t safe in Gotham. That meant Tim wasn’t safe in gotham either

But that was fine. He didn’t have to tell them and they didn’t have to know. everything would work out in the end, even if tim has to hide in his skin the remainder of their natural lives. He has forever after all.

And Tim is great at lying.

[maladaptivefanfic]

I Want a Nurse

Bucky Barnes x fem!Avenger!reader

(starts with Matt Murdock x reader but just trust me)

Rating: Mature (nothing yet)

Summary: Finding herself in unfamiliar territory, or unfamiliar times to be exact, an Avenger must find her way home or risk permanently altering her timeline. If only Bucky Barnes were less charming her task would be much easier.

Ooo we're getting backstory now - why do Matt and Bucky not get along what a mystery Also thanks for your patience, last week the hurricane and this week coming to terms with aging and my mortality thanks to the whole one direction thing is crazy am I right? ANYWAY

Chapter Three - A Chance Encounter

July 2nd, 1943, Azzano Italy - Nightingale

“I’m just saying that Sergeant Barnes is quite smitten with you.” Lorraine sang as they folded the linens

“And I’m saying that Sergeant Barnes is a notorious flirt! The nurses that were already here told us as much.” Y/n could only roll her eyes, half the nurses in camp were already half in love with Barnes due to his flirting.

“Yes but he’s been giving you special attention.” Lorraine winked as she spoke, enjoying watching Sergeant Barnes following her friend around like a lost puppy.

“Oh like George gives you?” Y/n reminded her, as two could play at this game!

“Stop that!” Lorraine huffed, as y/n laughed. It was true, in the days since they arrived, Bucky had been giving her extra attention. Sure he flirted with the other nurses, but he was always finding an excuse to escort y/n this place or the next, lifting things for her, carrying them around the camp wherever she wanted them to go.

She was always trying to shake him, but like a bad cold he kept coming back.

She had tried to warn him off, saying she already had a man back home, but Bucky insisted he just wanted to enjoy her company in any way he could, even if it was just carrying boxes around for her.

“And what is the story on your man, you don’t talk about him much.” Janet asked, bringing over the newest batch of dried linens to fold.

She couldn’t decide how to talk about Matt. She had mentioned he was mostly blind, and that’s why he wasn’t in the service. It also vaguely explained why she didn’t write or receive letters - none of the girls wanted to pry into the specifics about his visual capabilities.

“He’s sweet, very charming, i miss him.” A sad smile made its way across her face as she thought of her friend or rather her boyfriend she had to remind herself. There was always the fear that she might never see him again, or any of her friends. Maybe Tony and Bruce might not find a way to bring her back. That scared her more than anything.

“Lawyer too as you mentioned? Bet you’ll get a nice ring if he proposes.” Lorraine whistled, nudging her side, breaking y/n from her spell with a giggle.

“You’re horrible.” Still she laugh. Despite the pain in her chest, and the hurt in her heart, she laughed because at least in all of this she had friends.

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

Present Day - 4 Days Since Nightingale’s Disappearance - Avengers Tower - Bucky Barnes

“YOU’RE FLIRTING WITH HER?! SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND!” Matt’s yelling could likely be heard in Queens.

“ITS NOT LIKE I KNEW!!” Bucky yelled back, never one to step down from Murdock’s attacks.

With the new found memories, and Steve letting slip that Bucky had done more than just “meet” y/n, Matt had a whole new reason to yell at Bucky.

“Bullshit!” Matt scoffed as he sneered at Bucky.

“It’s not like I can stop myself from flirting with her in 1943!!” God if only he could, he thought desperately.

“You don’t even like her!” Matt was dead set that Bucky despised y/n, but somehow finding out some version of Barnes was smitten with her was even worse in his eyes.

“Well he does!” Bucky stopped for a minute “I did? This is confusing” Damn this headache and screwed up timeline.

But Murdock was already storming away to the lab deciding it was the best move rather than trying to strangle the super soldier in front of him. 

Now that they knew what the weapon did, it was a matter of reverse engineering it and while Matt was no help in the scientific department he felt more useful sitting in the lab while the brain trust worked rather than yelling at Barnes. Bucky was more than thankful as it let him lean his head against the cool refrigerator for some relief.

Over the last few hours, days had begun to pile into Bucky’s memories. Helping her around the camp, talking, chatting, and yes her mentioning Matt and Bucky of 1943 swiftly ignoring that. He was a man on a horrible little mission, and Bucky was begging his past self to give it up. But no, Bucky’s mind filled with sweet memories of her smile and giggling, the way she would blush when he slipped in a charming line, all of it etched into his brain as he desperately tried to ignore it. His stomach flipped remembering it all in painful detail, from the way she would laugh at his jokes despite herself or smile at him when he insisted on helping her.

Looking back now he could see the worry trapped behind her eyes, she didn’t want to bother him in 1943 for the same reason she didn’t bother him now. She thought he hated her, and honestly it was better that way in Bucky’s mind.

“How’s it going?” Wanda asked as she entered the kitchen, she had been easing the pain these new memories created as they warped Barnes’ mind but even powerful witches needed a lunch break.

“I forgot how persistent I could be.” He moved to stare blankly at the counter top as she pulled food from the fridge.

“Steve has always said you were very charming. Maybe the persistence is part of the charm.” She laughed slightly, her hand grazing the top of his head as she eased the pain his new memories caused. Sometimes she would catch glimpses of the memories, see what was in Bucky’s heart in 1943

“You were quite taken with her.” She mentioned softly

“Don’t let the devil hear you.”

“Matt is scared, he has been in love with her for years. Finally she has given him a chance and she disappears.” Her voice was somber, having seen the Devil sulking around the tower for days.

“I know.” Bucky mumbled, everyone knew. Murdock wasn’t exactly subtle.

“And so are you.” Bucky straightened abruptly at that comment

“No, no I wasn’t, I’m not, neither he nor I were. She is just another pretty girl, nothing special.” This was going a direction Barnes hated quickly.

“Mmmhmm” the witch hummed, with a decidedly obvious lack of agreement.

“I mean it Wanda, leave it alone.”

“Fine, fine. But you know when we do bring her back, you won’t be able to ignore her again. You won’t be able to ignore how you feel any more.” There was finality in her tone. Finality, and knowing.

Bucky knew that, as his heart beat heavy in his chest he knew.

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

Present Day, 4 Days Since Nightingale’s Disappearance - Avengers Tower - Matt Murdock

Matt Murdock was able to tolerate a lot in his life. He’d proven that in the last few years to be certain. Fighting villains both normal and super powered, taking down massive criminal organizations, law school - he had made it through quite a lot.

His dear friend turned new girlfriend being sucked into the past by a mad scientist was a new one.

Peter Parker was a bright and kind kid, explaining everything to Matt so he could understand the findings and know that they had a plan.

“It looks like Mr Stark and Dr Banner could be able to combine the remnants of the gun with his own tech. We know what it was made to do, and we have a general idea of how to reverse it, but theory and practice take a bit of time. While we’re working on that, we’re trying to get ahold of Dr Strange, which isn’t just his superhero name he’s actually a surgical doctor, I made that mistake before. But he’s not really a doctor anymore he’s a wizard. He has this cool amulet that can help him move around in time. If the gun is taking to long, and we have to start worrying about the affects y/n’s presence in the past might have, we could maybe use that amulet to bring her back. As far as the timeline goes we don’t have-”

The rambling continued and while Matt was no scientist he could follow along with what was going on;

Make the gun work in reverse, transfer that technology on a larger and controlled scale, save the girl, maintain the timeline.

But knowing this and feeling the impact of this were different.

He missed y/n, he missed her laugh, her gentle hands, and her warmth. He tried going through the motions with work the first day or two but he was running on empty as his energy was eaten up by worrying. Foggy and Karen were understanding, begging him to stay home, but sitting in his apartment with nothing to do but worry was worse.

He’d found himself in her apartment in the tower more than once. Just sitting on her couch, breathing in her scent. He didn’t want to touch anything, didn’t want to disturb what she’d left.

He wanted to keep hope but it already felt like he was in mourning.

And stupid Barnes.

From the moment he’d met y/n he’d known that Barnes wasn’t nice to her. And now, the bastard was flirting with her in the past! He’d been an ass as long as Matt had known him, and it didn’t seem like he was letting up anytime soon.

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

4 Years Prior to Present Day - Hell’s Kitchen - Matt Murdock

Playing the Devil was typically easy enough, but perhaps he should start to learn his limits. Tonight that was taking a beating against four guys who had been trying to chase down a girl walking home, but he’d left them in a bloody pile for the cops so he counted it as a win. He was limping through the alleyways trying to get his barings when he heard the scuffle of feet.

“Excuse me, sir?” A sweet smell, tinged with a light hint of gasoline filled his nose as he turned to meet the source of the kind voice.

“Please, can I help you?” She called out him, worry filling her tone as it carried to him down the alleyway

“Can’t exactly take me to the ER.” he smiled with a chuckle

She laughed with him but still approached

“No not really, how would we even fill out the intake paper work? First name ‘The’, last name ‘Devil’?” He chuckled, but a wheeze escaped him as he leaned again the wall for support.

“I’m Nightingale, with the Avengers, let me heal you some so you can at least get home.”

Nightingale, he’d heard of her. Foggy described her as cute, and her voice on the news was gentle on Matt’s ears. She was a new addition to the Avengers, with some wicked healing abilities. Apparently internal bleeding and gunshot wounds were nothing under her hands.

Yeah, ok, he could use that. Especially considering one of those assholes had a gun and wasn’t afraid to use it.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Again he smiled at her, and he could hear her light laugh.

“Who knew the devil could be so charming? I have to put my hands on you, is that alright?”

“Whatever you need to do.”

And so he felt her fingertips on his stomach over the nasty gunshot wound first, then he felt the warmth seep into his muscles, his bones, and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. She hummed as her fingertips danced along his body, prodding and poking as she found cuts, bruises, sore muscles, and even a crik in his neck from sleeping wrong last night. He felt weightless and light as she continued and he was putty in her hands.

“Mmm usually I’m the one making girls feel boneless, this is new.” He smiled at her, the ease he was feeling bringing way to his charming grin

“Not complaining are you?” He could hear the smile in her voice

Another groan as she fixed his shoulder blade

“God no, if a pretty woman wants to make me feel better I’ll be the last to complain.”

“You don’t even know if I’m pretty or not.” It was quietly, as if she hadn’t meant to say it

“How did you-“

“I could feel the damage to your eyes when fixing the cut on your jaw. It must’ve been an old injury because it wouldn’t budge.” Again she spoke softly, and this time Matt genuinely smiled. There was something really endearing about her trying to fix his sight.

“My friend told me how cute you were, at that press conference when they brought you on. He was saying he wanted to know where Tony Stark was finding all these beautiful, powerful women. If there was an island or something?”

Again she giggled, god what a beautiful sound.

“More like, I slipped up and got caught by Mr. Stark.” she huffed a little as she laughed softly.

“Ooo, using your healing powers for nefarious purposes?”

“Not like that,” and another laugh, Matt could get used to that sound, he could get addicted “I was working in a hospital. I started healing too much and Stark caught on to the reports.”

“Ahhh, very easy to catch a healer in a hospital.” He smirked, of course this angel was trying to secretly help people.

“Hey I was sneaky for a while!”

“Oh I’m sure.” He smiled as she pulled her hands back, but he reached out for them before they could get away from him. “Thank you.”

“Of course, I’m happy to help.”

“If you’re ever in Hell’s Kitchen again-“ he started to speak, hoping for a chance to meet her again when a gruff voice interrupted him.

“Hey! Nightingale, you about done back there? We have a mission report and you’re holding us up.” Sergeant Barnes made his way around the corner. The annoyance heavy in his voice and he made her jump in surprise. Matt could feel her tense and he immediately decided he didn’t like Sergeant Barnes.

“Well, come on then.” Barnes’ irritation thick in his tone.

“Sorry, sorry,” he could feel her turn back to him “next time I’m in the area, I’ll try to catch you.” Her heart was beating quickly as he kissed her hand before she could leave

“Now Nightingale!” Barnes was already on the back of his motorcycle, the engine roaring to life as he shouted in frustration.

She jumped after him, sitting on the back and her hands clutched the seat.

She was uncomfortable around Sergeant Barnes, he made her nervous and a little scared. All Matt could tell was the Barnes felt annoyed, and angry.

No he didn’t like Sergeant Barnes at all

But Nightingale, oh he had to meet her again.

[odinsblog]

I told y’all about the Krassenstein brothers: Elon Musk has monetized their twitter accounts and now they’re singing the “both sides” bullshit for clicks. It’s only a matter of time until they round the corner into Libertarian, GOP-lite, Bill Maher + Glenn Greenwald territory.

As far as the Kyle Rittenhouse case goes, it’s extremely disingenuous for Ed to omit the fact that the judge bent over backwards to help Rittenhouse, and inexplicably threw out the charges that would he would have almost certainly been found guilty of—as a minor, 17-year-old Rittenhouse did not, by law, have a legal right to have that gun on his person. Not to mention, he crossed state lines to “protect” 🙄 a store where he was recorded days earlier saying how he wished he had a chance to shoot Black Lives Matter protesters. (Judge Schroeder didn’t allow that part in either).

Does anyone else remember how Judge Bruce Schroeder allowed Rittenhouse to hand pick his jurors??

Or does anyone else remember how Bruce Schroeder casually allowed a person who killed two people to stand directly behind him—without handcuffs? Tell me that image didn’t influence the jurors.

There was sO fucking much wrong with that case. The judge practically instructed the jurors to find Rittenhouse not guilty. It was anything but a fair trial.

Anyway, it might take years for the Krassenstein’s to completely show their true conservative neoliberal colors, but 1) it IS coming, and 2) don’t say you weren’t forewarned.

Related posts beneath the cut

👉🏿 https://www.tumblr.com/odinsblog/722670201637896193/finally-someone-put-it-into-words-they-want-to

👉🏿 https://www.tumblr.com/odinsblog/725376945094787072/mark-this-on-a-calendar-the-krassenstein-brothers

👉🏿 https://www.tumblr.com/odinsblog/711429140382990336/imagine-calling-other-people-disgusting

👉🏿 https://www.tumblr.com/odinsblog/668456167955185664

👉🏿 https://www.tumblr.com/odinsblog/668436797559341056

👉🏿 https://www.tumblr.com/odinsblog/668350399412060161

[influenzalake]

cat boy Damian Wayne headcanons

because cat boy Damian is canon now 

- when Damian is initially turned into a cat, he still retains all of his memories and human mannerisms

- he can still be Robin for a few weeks, his father monitors his condition day by day

- as time passes he turns more and more into a cat, not just on the outside. 

- Bruce is kind of nervous? Will Damian forget everything they went through as he changes :( ? Will he forget? Will he regress?

- Bruce's worries are quelled when his son refuses to leave Wayne Manor unless he sniffs the grounds top to bottom. His urge to patrol is still present, just now in cat form. Damian must secure his territory and Bruce finds that he can tolerate that. 

- Damian and Alfred find themselves going at it more often than they probably should, but Damian will just not take a proper bath! Alfred claims licking yourself is not true hygiene, but Damian disagrees. 

- total Napoleon cat personality type, he needs his scent on everything he cares about and will plop himself on whatever and whoever to make a point 

-  lots of kitty cuddles 

- and licks

- Selina is having a field day

- Damian eventually spreads out and starts to patrol Gotham again, much to his father's chagrin

- Damian understands Gotham as his territory, so catboy Robin goes on the hunt

- At least he still wears his suit and mask, his identity is safe. Of course, who would spend any more brain power wondering who exactly Evolution Update Robin is when he's just so cute?

- Damian still has his sense of justice, but now goes about it differently

- He utilizes his new agility and claws the most. Gotham criminals are now the butt of every newscaster's joke. "getting mollywhopped by little mew mew" is not a good look for self proclaimed "tough guys" 

- Batman now has to wrangle villains and his feline son on patrol nights. 

- Damian goes in without a fight, to his cat brain he has finished his rounds and can now go back home to his base of operations (and dinner)

- Jon is always finding excuses to "check on" his best friend

- Tim and Dick have a whole binder full of kitty Dami photos, both have sworn an oath of secrecy

- Cass drops by and will go for snuggles unapologetically

- she has the battle scars to prove it

- Jason finds this whole thing hilarious, but keeps his distance in case it is contagious 

- Citizens go out in droves to possibly catch Cat Boy Robin out and about, also becoming easy targets for Gotham villains 

- When they inevitably do become kidnapped or worse, they get both a savior and unforgettable moment, all in the form of fluff

- Bruce eventually finds a cure and while he finds this entire situation oddly comical at times, he does want his son back. His real human son, when his snappy quips are in the form of words and not hissing 

[rev-wrath]

*stumbling into your ask box with a thought about the main dynamic between R and Bruce* R loves like a dog and Bruce loves like a cat (this leads to way too many miscommunications and too much time spent apart)

This I feel, is true for alpha R. Beta R, I feel is also a cat. Or an incredibly territorial and cagey dog.