#its where she gave Alfred his green

[jackofhearts-odb]

Big Valley my beloved

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

You Remind Me Of Her

~

"Jason wake up I want to go see the new store!"

He felt his blankets get tugged off of him. Groaning he scrunched his face into the bed.

" Let me sleep another hour or two, it was late when I got in bed."

" And who's fault is that?"

He grabbed the nearest pillow to him and flung it to where the voice was coming from, even with perfect aim he wasn't surprised when he heard it connect with his wall and not a body.

"Yours! If you hadn't dragged me with you to look for those old music disk with you I would have gotten to bed earlier."

"Liar you would still have gone to bed late for whatever other reason."

He sat up rubbing his eyes, hissing slightly when he opened them not expecting his lights to already be on.

"Okay, what store are you making me go to today Martha?"

He dodged a swat to the back of his head. Grinning he headed towards the kitchen hearing her huff and following him.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me grandma! Honestly, you're worse than a nipping dog"

"Well at least I'm not emotionally constipated like Bruce"

"True, but we're not speaking about my son right now we're speaking about you. Now hurry up! I saw the prettiest set of crystal glass cut tea set by the window when I was passing by!"

"Give me like 8 minutes to eat and get ready okay, will grampa be joining us?"

He turned to look at her in the eyes

Her green eyes, just barely glowing. The rest of her being transparent like fog in the early morning, her heels floating a few inches of the floor.

Martha Wayne his grandmother

His dead grandmother now a ghost

Just like he used to be

~

He walked into the small store the small bells jingling above his head.

"Look Jason they have such pretty things!"

His eyes followed her as she floated over to the display case. Quickly he took his phone and held it up to is ear.

"Which one's were the ones that caught your eye?'

He developed the habit of speaking into the phone when he was outside in public view while speaking with a ghost, that way nobody would give him a second glance looking like a normal phone call.

"The one with lilies and forget-me-not's."

His eyes quickly found the pieces and grabbed them. He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"Is this all you wanted from here?"

The 'Do you want to continue looking?' in his gaze. She gave a quick glance around before turning back to him.

"No just that for today, we can come back another day when you don't have plans."

Jason glanced at her while he quickly paid. Leaving the store he turned to fully look at her while still having his phone up to his ear.

"Plans? I don't have any plans for today?"

A sly grin made its way on to her face

"Well I thought it's been a while since you visited Alfred and since we're in the area we might as well visit, no?"

Jason sighed, " Fine, only because it has been a while plus if I don't go you'll just keep naggin' me."

Martha gave a small huff of amusement

"That's my boy! Now! Let's get some nice tea for our visit, it would be rude to go empty handed, how about some nice cinnamon tea huh?"

"Your obsession with cinnamon tea has started to spread to me, especially the weird way you like it."

"Gasp! It's not that weird, honestly I started drinking it like that because of my cravings while I was pregnant and just never stopped. But don't lie to me, you like it just as much as I do even with the peach jam."

"Fine maybe I do."

He looked down at the time, "Let's hurry up a buy that before it gets too late."

~

He knocked at the door, shifting the bags in his hands as he waited for Alfred to open the door.

Martha waited outside with him even though she could easily phase her way inside.

Jason heard light footsteps before the door glided open.

"Master Jason what a wonderful surprise to see you here please do come in."

Alfred herded Jason inside taking note of the bags he held.

"Did you go shopping before coming here?"

"Uh yea, some of it is for you."

"For me master Jason?"

"I thought it would be rude to come empty handed so I bought tea."

"Very thoughtful of you, lets head to the kitchen to prepare a cup shall we."

Jason quickly looked towards Martha raising a brow

"You go enjoy your tea with Alfred I'm going to look for Thomas, I'll be back by the time you leave"

Jason gave a quick smile in return before quickly following Alfred into the kitchen.

"Hey Alfie we can use the new tea set I got today, let me just wash them real quick."

He turned around, not noticing Alfred's confused stare

"You bought a tea set master Jason?"

Jason turned around after quickly wiping them dry.

"Yeah look, they even have some lilies and forget-me-not's on them, saw them by the window of the shop and thought why not?" He half lied.

"I see, I haven't seen these two flowers paired up together in ...a very long time."

Jason turned towards the kitchen entrance as he heard two pairs of footsteps nearing. Both Bruce and Dick appearing in the doorway.

"Oh good you're both here, I'm about to prepare some tea master Jason brought over for us ,sit down please."

They walked over to the table, Dick quickly hugging him.

"You didn't tell me you were dropping by!"

"Get off, and yea it was impulsive decision."

"Hn, good to see you chum."

"Yeah, you too B."

Alfred walked over with the tea prepared, placing it on the table.

Dick leaned over to see the tray.

"What kind of tea is it?"

"Master Jason brought us cinnamon tea."

Dick looked over at Jason tilting his head, "Since when do you drink cinnamon tea?"

"Since none of your business."

Jason took a small sip before sighing, "Hey Alfred do you have any peach jam?"

Alfred hesitated before looking at him confused, "Peach jam? What for?"

"I like to mix it in with the cinnamon tea."

Alfred's eyes glazed over for a second before heading towards the refrigerator, "...I see, of course let me get some for you."

He quickly came back with a small jar and placed it on the table near Jason.

"Thanks Alf." He scooped up a spoonful and dipped it in his cup.

Bruce and Alfred glanced at each other.

Dick looked up from his own cup, "Does that actually taste good? Can I try some!"

He made a grab at Jason's cup, he quickly pulled it out of reach, "Don't touch mine! If you're really curious make it yourself."

Dick slumped on the table whining, "But what if I don't like it, I'll ruin my tea!"

"That's not my problem"

"Oh come oooon just a little sip!"

"No"

"Pleaseee!"

"Ugh you're worse than a nipping dog, fine!"

Before Dick could celebrate they heard twin startled noises. They turned around and Bruce was covered in tea in what seemed like he spit out his tea, both Alfred and Bruce were staring at Jason faces pale.

Jason glanced around confused, "What? Why are you looking at me like that."

Alfred straightened up clearing his throat, " Apologies master Jason you seem to have startled us a bit."

"With what?"

Bruce finally stopped coughing, "Nothing, you just...reminded us of someone."

~

Just an Idea

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 13

Cass looked up as Jason came out of Danny’s room. He looked better.

After Danny had been stabilized, Cass had taken Jason away from the safe house and to Jason’s place with the gym in the basement. She knew what it was like to have that need to act— to hurt to ruin to end— burning under her skin. She gave Jason the fight that he needed, letting him punch and kick until they were both covered in bruises and he was shaking apart in her arms.

Today he looked better.

“N is going to stay with Danny,” Jason said with a little nod backwards.

Dick, Jason, Tim, and herself had all been taking turns staying with their new brother. He was sleeping a lot right then; he was waking with nightmares a lot too. Waking up with one of them touching him seemed to help him calm the quickest so they took turns staying close.

“Red?” Cass asked with a little tilt of her head.

Jason glanced at the clock on the oven as he opened the fridge. He wasn’t really hungry, but eating out of habit. “He’ll be over here in two hours, I he doesn’t get distracted.”

“Be nice. Red cares. He’ll be here,” she said.

Jason seemed to settle on something and popped the top off before throwing it in the microwave. “Yeah… yeah. Danny’s pretty much wormed his way into all of our hearts, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. Will for rest too.”

Jason snorted. “As if he already hasn’t with B. They didn’t need to meet for that. You know how the old man is, a real bleeding heart of stone.”

Cass rolled her eyes and ordered again, “Be nice.”

Jason frowned at her but she just smiled serenely back until he rolled his eyes. It was a win enough for her.

The heated food was set on a trivet between them and Jason stuck two forks in it.

“I’m thinking we get O in here in a few days,” he said around his own large bite of lasagna. “Danny is healing better this time, but we don’t know what sort of set back this will cause mentally and all. Having another set of hands would be good.”

“O will like him.”

“Course she will,” Jason said with almost a scoff.

“No O and Red,” Cass added thoughtfully after she had chewed her own bite. This was definitely Jason lasagna and not Alfred lasagna.

“Yeah… I don’t think I’m going to trust those three in a room together for a long time,” Jason said with a dawning sort of horror. “Danny took apart the remote here and now it has buttons for services I didn’t even know existed. I swear it will change shows on its own too if no one is paying attention to it. It’s useful, I guess, but a little creepy.”

“Ghost brother,” Cass said with a little shrug.

Jason’s eyes narrowed before he let out an exhausted sounding sigh. “I hate that you might be right. Our controller could be haunted now.”

“Alas poor Yorick?”

“Wrong character,” Jason said, pointing with his fork, “but that is a play with a ghost in it so good job.”

Cass smiled happily at the praise. “Once Red is here, you and me errands?”

“You just want to buy Danny another present,” Jason said, jabbing his fork in her direction.

“Yes,” she said with zero shame.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine, but we have to do groceries too.”

-

Babs had been warned that Danny was still very skittish, but he hadn’t actually expected him to freeze like a scared rabbit when she came into the apartment. She stopped rolling forward and moved her hands to where he could see them both clearly.

“Hi Danny,” she said with her kindest librarian voice that she had. “I’m Oracle. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Danny shook his head, the motion ran through him like a shudder and whatever had frozen him shook off him like water off a dog. His smile was still shaky though, so Babs didn’t think that whatever the reaction had been was completely done.

“Hi, Oracle.” His voice was soft, rough, a little broken.

She’d heard from a number of the bats about the latest development and the trauma that went with it, but it as still something to see someone that looked like a young Bruce covered in bandages and looking more than worse for the wear.

“Are you alright if I come in? If you aren’t, that’s alright. I’ll just talk with Nightwing in the hall for a little.”

“No, you can come in,” Danny said, sitting up a little straighter. His eyes flicked over her again. “It’s just… your hair reminded me of someone is all. No one… no one bad.”

Babs offered him a smile and came the rest of the way into the apartment. “If that changes, just let me know.”

“It’s fine, really,” Danny said, though the words were still a little bit of a whisper.

“Well then,” Dick said, interrupting the end of the oddly tense moment, “Babs, do you want any hot chocolate?”

“Thank you, but without the mountain of whip cream I know you liked to put on it,” she said, giving Dick a playful glare.

He shrugged unrepentantly. “Danny?”

“Yes please,” he said. He was fussing with the blanket he had been sitting under, folding it up just so.

Babs moved towards the kitchen to give him a little bit of space and the illusion of some privacy.

‘What was that about?’ Babs asked Dick silently through raised eye brows, a slightly twisted frown, and a subtle nod towards the living room.

‘Not a damn clue,’ is what Dick’s shrug said back.

It almost made Babs sigh.

Danny was still a complete mystery to her. While they were being good and had avoided taking blood or fingerprints from Danny, Barbara had at least been trying to find Danny’s path through the city. She’d been saying for days now that the boy was like a ghost.

She just didn’t expect that to be as literal as it was.

The nickname had lost any of its fun.

“Danny, whipped cream for you?” Dick asked.

Danny’s eyes darted from Dick to Babs.

“Oh, feel free to have it like N,” Babs said with a smile. “I just don’t have the sweet tooth that he does.”

“She never has, it’s tragic,” Dick said with a sigh as he started to warm a pot of milk. “So, whipped cream.”

“Um, yes,” Danny said.

“I will take sprinkles though,” Babs said. “Do you have the little—”

“Bats?” Dick scoffed. “Of course I have the little bats. You can’t have proper hot chocolate without the little bat sprinkles.”

“Of course not,” words serious but unable to help the little smile that she sported.

“You all really like the theme, don’t you?” Danny asked, though he was smiling too now.

“The boy in the hoddie with the Bat logo on it does not get to talk,” Dick said and tossed a large marshmallow at Danny with pin point accuracy.

Danny caught it effortlessly and started to pull it apart with a little shrug. “Hood got if for me as a present.”

“Of course he did,” Tim said as he finally emerged from wherever he had been tucked away. He handed the tablet he was carrying over to Danny before he sat down in the neighboring armchair. “He’s just trying to claim you first, as if him and I didn’t find you together.”

“Hot chocolate, Red?” Dick asked while Danny was busy looking bewildered at that.

“Sure, but add some coffee to it?” Tim asked.

“No,” Dick replied far too cheerfully. “But seriously Dandelion, a Bat logo from a Bat means something.”

Danny’s face scrunched up at that and he looked down at himself. “I don’t think… he was trying to claim me?”

Babs snorted. “Oh, trust us, he was absolutely claiming you. He probably felt that he had to do something material to even start to compete with B.B., as if he wasn’t cooking for you all the time.”

Danny stared back at her with wide blue eyes. The open surprise and desperate want was odd to see on someone that looked so much like Bruce. Damian certainly never let himself appear that way.

“And Red is already souping up your tablet, I’m assuming— though if you really want an improvement let me see it,” she continued, talking over Tim’s little snort, “and N is making you the special hot chocolate. Even Signal is thinking what he can get you and Spoiler is whining that she hasn’t met you yet.”

“She is getting so annoying,” Tim whined while Danny stuffed the shredded marshmallow in his mouth, likely to get out of saying anything. He looked more than a little teary eyed. Tim gave him the out by continuing, “We’ll have her over one morning when she’ll be tired and easily distracted by waffles. You’re not up for the full Spoiler experience yet.”

“Trust Red on that,” Dick interjected as he stirred the coco, “he dated her.”

“I don’t know what either of us were thinking,” Tim said with a sigh. “We are both way too high maintenance in different ways for it to have worked.”

“You were still waiting for you bi awakening, baby bird, you were missing out on half the options,” Dick said. He dropped one of the oversized marshmallows in each of the four mugs before pouring the scalding hot chocolate over it.

Babs left him to his sorcery and wheeled over to the couch before working her way onto it. Danny helpfully moved the blanket out of the way and then offered it back after. She draped it carefully over her legs.

“So what did Red do to your tablet?”

“I actually didn’t do anything,” Tim said, and then had to pause. “Well, not after I gave it to Danny at least. I was just making sure everything was still good. Danny’s been tinkering with it.”

Danny gave a little shrug and picked at the edge of his hoodie.

“Do you like engineering then? Or inventing?” Babs asked, trying to encourage Danny to open up a little.

“Yeah, my— I—, I mean…” Danny stumbled over his words. He lost some of his color with each false start until he was worryingly grey. He swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I used to at least.”

“Danny, hot chocolate,” Dick said with impeccable timing as always.

Danny whispered a thanks and took the almost overflowing mug. He could basically hide behind the mound of whipped cream and he definitely tried to. Babs took the offered mug with a much more modest dollop but an absurd amount of bat sprinkles. Her lips twitched up in a smile as she took a sip.

Tim’s portion was somewhere in between Bab’s and Danny and of course Dick’s was practically laughable. It’s a wonder he didn’t make an absolute mess of himself drinking it as they argued over a movie to watch. It was clever of the Bats, really, they had started to narrow down how long Danny had been a test subject by what movies he had seen or not.

It was somewhere between seventeen and twenty-three months.

Nearly two years.

They were all lucky that Danny had made it out at all. They all knew the statistics of something like that.

Hot chocolate turned into dinner turned into Danny cuddling Dick on the couch and eventually resting against Bab’s legs. A good sign about her acceptance, according to the birds.

“Oracle?”

Babs had thought that Danny was asleep. She reached out to run the tips of her fingers through his hair. The lights from the movie that was still playing glinted off her pink nails. “Yes, Danny?”

“If I asked… would you be able to find someone for me?”

She tilted her head. “The person that I remind you of?”

“Yes. Just… just so that I know she’s okay.”

“Is she in danger?”

“No, she’s not like me. She’s…” Danny cut himself off, swallowing back the words.

“But you’d still like to know.”

“Yes.”

Babs hummed. It was technically an abuse of her powers, but they were something she abused all the time. “Yes, if you ask me to, I can find out if she’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll… maybe I’ll ask. Thank you.”

“Of course, Danny.”

---

AN: I struggled with this chapter at first, but it was because I was jumping right to Barbara meeting Danny and not giving the others some more time to deal with the change in Danny. They still haven't really dealt with it, right now they're focused on healing and getting more help through Babs being around.

All our poor Bat's. So attached already and so traumatized.

But not as traumatized as Danny...

Stay delightful, darlings!

[haveihitanerve]

i apologize in advance.

Dick stared at the suit. The suit stared back. But no eyes filled the white holes. No straight lipped smile greeted him. The suit was empty. Its ears seemed wilted, though Dick knew that was just his imagination. He swallowed. “Y'know, it wont magically wrap itself around you.” Drawled a voice. “You have to actually put it on.” Dick turned to face his younger brother, Jason. But even with the cocky words and aloof demeanor, Dick could see it hurt Jason, hurt him deeply, perhaps not as deeply as it hit Dick, but he felt the empty suit just the same. Dick gave a shallow nod, not bothering the remarks with words. Jason swallowed. “Its what he would have wanted.” He offered quietly. Dick turned away. He didn't bother to contradict him. To tell him that despite what the others might believe, Bruce, his father, had never intended for any of them to don his suit. Although he had planned on them burying him. Not the other way around as had happened too many times. The soft padding of feet was the only sound of Jason’s departure. It was uncommon, nowadays, for the second Wayne child to leave without words of goodbye. But today… Dick understood today. He swallowed, and with shaking hands, opened the glass case.

The Batcave was silent. Not unusual, but it was unusual with all of the kids in it. The Batcave was never silent if the kids were present. It was something Bruce had always claimed he hated, but he had always smiled so fondly, so none had taken him seriously. But today it was. Steph was leaned against the desk, Tim in the Batchair next to her, his eyes on the Batcomputer, though he wasn't typing. For once, he was completely still. Cass, on the other hand, was pacing, her usually silent footfalls now making little scuffing sounds on the floor. Amplified by the lack of sound from the other kids, it echoed around them, almost as a steady heartbeat. The kids swallowed back their bile. Jason was propped on his motorbike, helmet held loosely in his hands. His guns were nowhere in sight. Damian sat at his feet, fidgeting. Duke, for once, was awake this late, and was twiddling his thumbs, gnawing on his bottom lip as he leaned against the far wall of the Batcave. Babs sat in her wheelchair next to where Cass was pacing, her laptop opened in front of her, but the screen was dark. Had fallen dark long ago. Selina stood, watchful, at the edge, watching all of them with keen eyes, but did not say a word. Could not find any. Alfred was in bed. He had not left it since… since the funeral. Finally, Cass’s pacing slowed, and she turned to the door, hearing things the other kids could not. All at once, the atmosphere changed, became even more charged, and they turned to the door. Steph, Jason, and Damian stood, and Duke pushed off the wall. They formed a small half circle facing the door, linking hands. As though they needed each other to get through this. Finally, the sound of walking alerted the others to what Cass had heard so much earlier. The steps were smaller, almost sluggish, but as they neared the door they picked up, almost as if forcing cheer and pep into their step. The sounds slowed and finally stopped just before the door. “Ready?” he called quietly. They locked eyes, and slowly nodded. Batman stepped into the Batcave, and promptly keeled over, vomiting. 

Selina rushed to Dick’s side in an instant, but the other kids couldn't move, frozen in place. Even Selina hesitated as she neared, slowing to a shuffle. Before she reached him he had straightened, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He raised himself to his full height and made eye contact. Damian started shaking. Jason fainted. Tim looked green. Babs spun her wheels, turning away. Steph had her hands curled under her chin and silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Cass’s head was shaking side to side, ever so slightly. Duke swallowed. Selina took a step back. Staggered back. Catwoman staggered. A smile, so fake it almost looked like it hurt, blossomed across Batmans face, but it did the trick. Now Dick looked more like himself. The smile faltered, but then returned full force, still straining with its lack of conviction. “Oh Dickie.” Selina whispered. But even with all the compassion and heartache in her voice, she did not take another step towards him. Did not dare step near that suit. The door to the Batcave opened and everyone tensed, then relaxed slightly as Wonder Woman and Superman walked in, quietly. Clarks eyes roved over all of them, before landing on Dick. An expression they had never seen before crossed his face, emotions spasming, before the alien had Dick pinned against the wall by the throat, snarling in his face. “Take it off!” he growled. Dick stared at him, unflinching. “Before he was your friend,” the oldest Wayne child said lowly. “He was my father.” The alien dropped him to the floor, taking a staggered step back. Dick flinched. Everyone staggered back from him. From the suit. From him in the suit. “Are you prepared?” Selina asked him softly. Dick stood taller, not bothering with the forced smile this time. The expression nearly took her breath away. Dick and the other children could deny it all they liked, but they resembled their father whether they wanted to or not. And had it not been for the fact that Selina had seen him die, knew he was taller, knew his face better than she knew her own, she could not tell the difference, in that moment. Between the boy, the man, that stood before her now, and the man who she had fallen in love with. “Come.” she bade him softly, turning away so she did not have to look, did not have to look at that face that was him and yet not. Dick built steel into his spine, into his step. Did not stop to think about how his line was drawn in the same grim line he had so often seen his father make. Did not focus on his siblings who all shrank away from him like he had the plague, tears and pleas and threats in their eyes. Instead he followed Selina, his steps steady. She stepped aside quickly, eyes averted, as though looking at him physically hurt her, and Dick took a deep breath, stepping in front of the mirror. Then he promptly turned, and threw up. 

[kindlingkeen]

Loyalty

A deleted scene from The People We Choose, part 1 my Choices ‘verse, a Jason-centric Lost Days AU. Warnings for references to temporary character death and canon typical violence.

Takes place circa chapter 1. I took this scene out fairly early on while drafting, so the characterization and continuity are a bit off. In other words, don’t take it as canon for TPWC. I may clean it up at some point and post it on ao3, but for now it’s going to live here.

“You’re just a pathetic gutter rat. Loyal to nothing and no one.”

One of the League’s pet assassins spits the words in Jason’s face, and they manage to hit with more than just saliva. Jason is holding the woman at knifepoint, so clearly the assassin is a biased source. But, still. 

Loyal to nothing and no one.

Is he? Is there no one he’s loyal to, nothing he believes in, Jason wonders. But, really, why should he be loyal to anyone in the first place when no one has ever been loyal to him.

It was the story of Jason’s miserable life (ugh, lives) - he’s never mattered enough. Not when it counted, not when it meant something. Willis chose an easy life of crime. Catherine chose the oblivion of drugs. Sheila chose her greed. 

And Bruce, Bruce chose the fucking mission. And he would keep choosing it.

And then there was Alfred. Jason had mattered to Alfred. Jason was sure of it. Alfred had loved him independently of the suit he wore, the criminals he did or did not hit, the person he was or the person he was trying to be.

For that, Jason thinks that he will probably always love Alfred. 

But, for Alfred, Bruce always came first.

Bruce chose to take Robin away. Bruce chose not to avenge Jason. Bruce chose to keep putting kids in the suit that Jason died in. 

And Alfred chose to stand by Bruce and allow it.

So, Jason thinks that he will probably always love Alfred. In a way. But it’s not enough.

Loyal to nothing and no one.

Jason remembers suddenly, something Talia said to him early on in his training at Tadrib Almawt as he lay nearly unconscious, bleeding heavily from a poisoned knife wound.

You made your own magic, Jason.

Jason used to think that being Robin gave him magic. What he could never really put a voice to, could barely admit to himself, was that it was that Bruce wanted him, that he thought Jason was special—that was where the magic came from.

When Robin was beaten and broken in a warehouse and Jason lay alone watching a timer count its way down to zero - he knew, he knew Bruce was coming. He wrapped that knowledge around himself like a fire blanket for his soul and held onto it with all his heart when the moment came - when he knew that no one was going to make it in time.

When Jason woke up in his coffin, he woke up crying out for Batman. When he dug his way out of his grave, he crawled out screaming for Bruce. Alone in a hospital, lost and confused, as his mind splintered apart, he pleaded for his dad. 

But when Jason woke up again, this time for good, drowning in green and pain and rage, he found himself in a world where his murderer was still bathing the city he called home with blood, while a black-haired, blue-eyed boy in Jason’s colors chased after him, a dark shadow following close behind. 

After that, when Jason woke up screaming from nightmares of dying, of choking to death as the world burned around him, he woke up with wordless shouts caught in his throat and cold, hard truth beating in his ears.

He never really had magic at all.

Delirious from blood loss and rambling with fever dreams, he’d blurted out the whole pathetic mess to Talia. He remembers with perfect clarity how she stood silently near the head of his cot watching one of Tadrib Almawt’s medics stitch him up, her face as hard as granite.

At first she’d said nothing at all, lips tight and grim, until the medic finished the bandages and bustled out of the room.

Then she sat abruptly on the side of his cot and looked him in the eye, her firm hand on his chin anchoring his head in place. 

“Jason, it’s unclear to me how exactly this could have escaped your notice,” she said, her tone drier than the desert around them, “but you were dead, and now you are not. You are magic.” 

Her hand reached down and wrapped briefly around his. When she spoke again, the Arabic words came out soft and liquid, like a dream. 

"لقد صنعت سحرك الخاص يا جيسون."

Talia was out the door and gone before he’d even realized she’d moved. Her words echoed around Jason as he shifted restlessly, trying to find sleep. 

You made your own magic, Jason.

Jason focuses again on the assassin dangling limply in his grip, the memory fading away.

I’m loyal to what matters, Jason thinks, his hand reaching out to wrap around the assassin’s sword. 

“I’m loyal to myself,” Jason whispers in the assassin’s ear, as he runs the sword through their gut.

[cookeybg]

Gotham Possesses

A cryptid Batfamily AU in which Gotham is the main character and follows its journey to consciousness as it follows its Bat and Birds. Chapters are short and a bit gloomy.

Main Characters: Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake (more characters pop up later, will add them then.)

No romantic relationships

Stuff to know: Cryptid Batfamily, grim, Melancholic mood, Angst, (let me know if I should add more tags)

Word Count: 493

[Here's my table of contents]

Chapter 8 - Gotham Mends

I felt the tether mend. Slack, unable to grasp it, it twisted and spun. I could not see where it led. All I could feel was the direction, out over the sea, too far away. Fractile images and thoughts came as quickly as they went. Still, the tether strengthened, it’s frayed edges smoothing, beckoning. He would return and I waited in anticipation for my little bird. In the center of my decease, where suffering and hopelessness covered the ground and penetrated the air like fetid fog, he exploded. He had returned, he took up residence in his old haunt, his soul now tinted with something I couldn’t place. Something…other. It filled the cracks, glowing green, with rage and misconception. The warmth of those he deemed unworthy, flowed, their heads rolled. I drank my fill, a bitter, rancid taste. Familiar. Strong. With the tools he had been given and new ones he had been taught, he domineered. Like a tidal wave he crashed against the oppressors, he fought for the oppressed and all too soon the tide hit my Bat’s shores. They clashed, their dance beautiful, deadly, sad. Reminiscent. Denial. My Bat knew who he was, I could feel his heart stutter in realization. My birds could feel the connection. All refused to believe it. My second, now called Red Hood, a name, a twisted joke, taken from the jester. He made my third spill his warmth, jealous, betrayed, bitter, hurt. Still I helped. I directed him. He needed an outlet. I let him do what he thought he needed to. My surface his playground while I worked. After all, what were some lives worth compared to our baby bird. My Bat might not have agreed, but it was all for him in the end. I would do what must be done. I tightened the tether. With a rush I slipped in, easily, he is mine. I fired synapses, cleared the fog, helped connect the dots and threw away the lies. Chiseled into the green cracks, destroyed the ones I could. He bled, he cried, he screamed, another death endured. For the inequity of it all, I shook the foundations in agreement, cracked the sky in a mournful wail. Images resurfaced. A green eyed woman, memories, familiar, guided him in the ways my Bat would not approve, but she also gave him warmth. She cared. A child he trained with, her coloring but characteristics too similar to my Bat. It was not the time for it, I stayed away. I vowed to dig deeper when my second was less fragile. He was angry, confused, but he was back and even though my Bat was devastated by his actions. He was relieved. Happy, even, to have him back, a ghost made flesh again. Unlike his parents, his son came back. For my Bat, I helped their reunion mend their souls, though new cracks appeared. They would eventually mend. There was time. They are mine.

[justrainandcoffee]

Against all odds (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 1.

(Crossover Peaky Blinders - Hunger Games)

Series masterlist - Alfie x Rose masterlist

Summary: Six years ago, Alfie won his games and the ghosts of those years still haunts him. But he has not choice but go to the Capitol, once again, because that's his role as mentor. No one of those kids who went with him to the Capitol survived and probably this year it'll be the same. Fuck the Capitol and its citizens. They're all the same. The thing is... Not all of them are the same.

Series warnings: Mentions of sex (consent and non-con). Murders. Blood. PTSD. Cheating. Prostitution. || This is set in Panem universe. Topics as minors being sexual corrupted are also mentioned because it's CANON.

Words: 3.1k

Six years earlier.

District 8.

Rose woke up sighing. Last week she celebrated her 18th birthday. Already an adult and yet, once last time she had to prepare herself for the reaping day.

The last six years of her life were tortuous. Year after year, praying for a miracle. But for now, God or whoever was up there, listened to her.

Just one more time.

Her brother Samuel was already up when she went to the kitchen. He was 13, almost 14, and that was his second time facing that not so special day.

"Hi, Sam."

"Rosie…"

She tried to prevent him from asking for things so he couldn't get any extra tesserae but also, there was a time where she fell ill for almost a month and Samuel was the one who had to ask for medicine. His name was ten times on those damn papers. Rose's name was fifty-five.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"If by okay you mean that there's a chance I can be reaped and then die then, no, I'm not okay. But I'm still alive and these toasts are good, so yes, I'm okay."

"Everything will be fine, Sam."

"Except for one boy and one girl."

Rose nodded, "except for them."

.

The escort who always visited the district during the reaping day was an extravagant man called Alistair Pullman, who had half of his hair blue and half white. Perfectly combed. He also had a ridiculous moustache and talked in a funny way.

"Welcome to The 53th Hunger Games!" Alistair exclaimed. He was wearing a white hat and a brilliant green suit.

The introduction was always the same. Same words, same tone of voice.

"…as always, ladies first."

Her heart was pounding.

Please, help me one more time.

Alistair picked up a paper and opened it "Rose… Gregg."

Gregg. Not Coldwell. Not Coldwell. She couldn't help but cried. The odds were indeed on her favour. After all those years, after all those fucking tesserae, she did it. She was never reaped.

Rose Gregg was a thin ginger girl. She was also crying but for very different reasons. She was probably walking towards her death. Rose Coldwell felt sorry for her.

"And now the gentlemen…"

The boy, luckily, wasn't her brother but a boy called Martin Wallis.

When she had the chance, she ran towards her little brother and hugged him tightly.

It was indeed a good day. At least for the Coldwells.

Far away in district 9 a boy called Alfred had been reaped.

Now.

District 9.

"How old are you?" Alfie asked.

"19."

"You're fucking not. How old are you?"

"16."

"Fuck off. Go home, girl."

"Please, sir! My sister and I, we're hungry! Let me show you! Other men say I'm good… I can be good. Whatever you want, sir."

Alfie went to the kitchen and grabbed some canned food and bread and gave it to her. "I said fuck off."

He growled. Not infrequently women and sometimes men knocked on his door offering sexual services in exchange for food or medicine he now had. Since he won his games six years ago that was a every day routine. And not so infrequently, too, he accepted their offer. It was a good way to stop thinking. As long as the person was adult and never vaginal sex. The last thing that the world needed was more kids. Were his actions questionable? Who the fuck cared? That was Panem not a fucking monastery. You had to survive and every person chose their methods. At least he wasn't a fucking rapist.

Alfie tried not to think about it. It was only once but…

He knocked the rest of the cans out of his table. He was angry.

It was months after his victory. A woman in her 50s paid for a night with him. And he didn't have the option to say no. The lady had a fetish for young teenage boys who were like him. They forced him to take a pill so he could last longer during the sex encounter. Not only the woman was older than his own mother but also was incredibly annoying. He forced himself to close his eyes and just do his job. It was the longest and most unpleasant night of his life.

No one else wanted him. Too rude and not childish enough to them. He already had beard. People of the capitol preferred baby faces. Alfie never shaved again in his life, that kept the rest of the citizens away from him.

And that day was the beginning of a new nightmare. Once again, a new reaping day. Another year where probably he was going to lose another boy and another girl.

He watched the ceremony from the distance. Both girl and boy were 15 years old. The boy named Philip had only one hand.

Alfie knew it from the very beginning, Philip had his days numbered. Later he could study the girl. In the distance he heard the train already waiting for them.

.

The Capitol. Wealthy, big, colourful… full of hypocrisy and heartless bastards. Full of people cheering for the tributes and waiting for them to be slaughtered by other kids. He despised that place. Their escort, Alissa, was speaking but Alfie wasn't paying attention to her.

The training centre was full of people. From servants to guards. Alfie saw how other victors talked to the new tributes, introducing that place. Philip and the girl were at his side in silence listening to Alissa who was too enthusiastic about these new games.

A short woman approached them and greeted Alissa with a big smile and also the kids. She just nodded at him, probably reading his facial expression.

"I'm the new stylist," she introduced herself to him and the rest "I'm Rosebeth. And I'm glad to announce you're going to shine."

.

Another fucking year. Rose watched the different kids being selected on TV. Same old story. Happy and proud faces on those from district 1 and 2, resignation on the rest of them.

That was her first year working as stylist and they assigned district 9 to her. The previous stylist had problems with authorities and he had been incarcerated. Probably killed by now, she didn't know. And Rose learnt that it's better not to ask.

If you wanted an answer all you had to do was wait and listen. Sooner or later, people talked. Especially those wealthy bitches ready to spread gossips.

The train was already there. And Rose prepared herself. Time to be someone new.

When you're part of the Capitol, you had to act like one. You couldn't have a simple and mundane name as Rose. Because of that she merged her both names in one, Rose Elizabeth: Rosebeth. And voilà, she wasn't a simple girl anymore.

Not long time ago she was part of the districts too. She didn't born there. She hated the Capitol, the ideals, the way that those kids were treated. Rose wanted to burn that place from the ground and watch it explode in thousand of pieces. And was already working on it.

But for now she was the stupid, superficial and happy Rosebeth Evert, married to one of the richest men there. And one of the biggest piece of shit, too.

"What happened to André?" the mentor asked. She looked at him and smiled.

"André isn't here anymore. As I said, I'm the new stylist and for the next weeks we're a team. The five of us, isn't that great?"

Alissa clapped happily and Philip smiled. Alfie and the girl remained in silence.

.

While they entered the elevator to go to their floor, Alfie realised he was mad. No, in fact, he was disgusted. At least André was a man who he could talk with. The woman in front of him was nothing but the perfect example of a empty minded person who probably celebrate every death. The next few weeks were going to be a hell. He looked at her and Alissa talk like very good friends but said nothing.

Alfie knew the place but the kids not. The floor that the Capitol gave to district 9 was big, elegantly decorated and with enormous windows facing the city.

Alissa was jumping here and there expressing her gratitude for the food on the table, the soft music on the background and almost everything.

"You're Reah," said Rose looking at the girl. Contrary to Philip, Reah was shy and quiet. Not agressive at all, just timid. The girl girl nodded "I'm already thinking about your dress, Reah. But I need opinions, what do you like about your District? I'm against all traditional, sweetie. André was good, but too classic. Make them talk about you, Reah."

"Reah wants peace. Her life is about to change forever, last thing she needs is to talk about stupid costumes."

Rose looked at the mentor who just talked. She read his files. Alfred Solomons, winner of the 53th Hunger games. An impressive number of seven deaths, one of them by decapitation. Two sickles was all he needed to be a victor. But the grumpy man in front of her had nothing to do with the photo in the files she read.

"Well, Alfred, what about let the girl talk instead of speaking for her? My reputation depends on the parade and I'm not going to ruin it because you're against it."

"It's okay," Reah said shyly. "I'd like to talk about the costume."

Alfie huffed before turning around and go to his bedroom.

The fucking Capitol.

.

But Alfie had nothing to say when he finally saw the costumes. Over the years, he had seen his mentored kids dressed as corn or a wearing weath hats. That night, both Reah and Philip represented Ceres, the roman goddess of grains. Comparing the costumes to distract 1, for example, probably they weren't that extravagant. But if you looked closer you could see the little details like weath ears made of golden threads perfectly sewed to the fabric. Plus longer weath ears made of real gold outstanding over their shoulders and heads.

Alissa was fascinated and told Rose. Alfie remained in silence.

Apparently, people loved them too.

The only thing that Alfie thought was that maybe that could help him to get sponsors for them.

At that hour the building was almost empty except for guards and some night workers. No one asked her what she was doing at those hours. She's carrying a sewing machine in her arms and some clothes on her shoulders.

Rose was trying to ignore her heartbeat. You had to start with something, right?

"To spy my husband," she said to the seller who didn't ask much questions when she bought a microphone.

She gave two fucks her husband. He was probably now celebrating with some other men in a bar thinking about the tributes and who could win.

A guard stopped her when she tried to enter the control centre. She knew that was going to happen. She wore her fakest smile.

"You can't pass, ma'am."

Rose giggled stupidly "oh, I know, love. But Claudius is there and I have a message for him from my cutie husband Lawrie Evert. It's just five seconds."

The guard looked at her and used the communication device on his wrist to speak with other guard inside. After a short exchange of words he let her in.

The message was fake. Probably the man named Claudius will forget that, but it gave her the chance to be inside the most precious room in the whole Capitol. The fucking control centre. No one noticed that she put the tiny mic under the table. Especially because everyone was busy and because the clothes covered her arms. Long life battery. Probably it will last longer than this game edition.

Once she left the room and the hallway. That stupid smile she hated so much disappeared from her face.

"Be careful with her," an old victor warned Alfie once the training began.

Alfie had been watching Philip and he was extremely surprised by his ability to use spears despite having only one hand. It's not like district 9 had a lot of wild animals to hunt. Alfie promised himself to ask the boy about it later.

"With who?"

"Your stylist. Do you know her husband?"

"I don't know a shit about her except that she's annoying and she's laughing like an idiot all the time. Who the fuck is her husband?"

"Lawrence Evert."

Alfie stopped looking at the boy to look at the victor. It was the black woman known as Volcano Girl. Alfie was a little kid by the time she won, probably 4 or 5 years old, he barely remembered those games. But for a few years Aveline Young was quite popular. She was 34 years now, almost two decades passed from the moment she won.

"What?" Alfie asked looking at her.

Lawrence Evert was a bad word. It was an open secret the things he did to some victors. Even Alfie who was one of the youngest and hadn't heard everything, knew about him.

"Just telling you, Alfie. I couldn't trust her if I were you. Who the fuck can marry that bastard?"

His head were full of questions. Not only now he had to protect those kids from other tributes, but in case that any of them could win, he had to ptotect her o him from the husband of a woman who was pretending to be their friend.

.

The hostility towards her the following days only increased. Alissa tried to calm him, talked to him about other things but he didn't cooperate. Every time Alfie found her talking to Reah or Philip alone, he approached them.

Those bastards were everywhere. Every night when Alfie looked through the window and watched the lights he asked himself how many of them corrupted kids. The answer was probably: a lot.

Four nights before the beginning of the 60th Hunger Games, Alfie saw Rose dancing with Philip a tropical song. Both of them were laughing, but he wasn't. Not just he turned the music off, but warned the woman with his finger.

"It's nothing…" Philip tried to say.

"It's fucking a lot. Go to bed, now. You need to rest," the man ordered.

"But Alfie…"

"Go to the fucking bed, Philip!"

The boy nodded and left the dining room, leaving the two adults alone.

"Stay fucking away from them."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rose frowned "the moment you put a feet here you treated me bad, but these last days were awful… as far as I know I did nothing! So tell me, Alfred, what the fuck is wrong with you!!"

"With me? I came forced here! And I'm doing my job! Part if it is protecting those kids from monsters like you!"

Alissa appeared that moment to tell them that they were yelling at each other. Rose open the balcony door violently. Alfie was behind her.

"What the fuck do you mean by monsters like me. Because I was giving the kid a moment to be a child again? Joking and dancing trying to make him forget about his fate?? I don't understand, so tell me!"

"You know nothing, don't you?" Alfie snorted. "Probably you spend your days thinking what ridiculous shoes to buy, what new fucking bag to wear. Meanwhile in your back your beloved husband is a pe…"

"A what?!"

"Pedophile."

Alfie saw the exactly moment where life escaped from her eyes. She was paralyzed.

"What?"

"You heard me. Why don't you ask victors what do they think about Lawrence Evert?"

"What the fuck are…oh God." Rose felt sick and ended up vomiting in a flowerpot that was there. Alfie didn't move.

It couldn't be. Those years she had heard those rumours and never doubted about it. But that was new information. Disgusting new information. Her marriage it was recent, she accepted because he promised to keep her brothers names out of the bowls and he fulfilled the promises. Now Samuel was safe from it, he was 19, but her little brother Louis was only 14.

"FUCCKKKK!!" she screamed in the wind, crying. She let him fucked her without knowing he touched kids. She felt dirty. It was disgusting. "How many…" she thought. She didn't want to know. When she calmed down, moments later, she faced Alfie who was still there.

"You too?"

"No. Not by him, at least."

"I didn't know. Please, believe me, I didn't know. This kid, Philip, he is barely older than my little brother. I miss him! For me he's nothing but like my brother Louis. I never… never!"

"Yeah. I can see you didn't know. I believe you. But I don't want you near them. I don't trust people like you. Capitol citizens enjoying the killing. You didn't touch them, but I bet my ass you enjoy the games. Born in a fucking golden crib..."

"Don't you dare to talk about me like you know me, Alfred. You know a shit about me! I'm from district 8! I put my fucking name 185 times during my adolescence. I was fucking lucky that I never been reaped. I suffer from the same misery than you or these kids. I was lucky that when I was 19 they accepted me to work here. I'm sorry your lucky was worst than mine. But don't you dare to judge me. You don't know me. You don't."

When she left the balcony, Alfie kicked the wall. Everything was a shit.

Reah and Philip the next days continue training. Alfie prepared them to face the judges. Rose was in her studio finishing the clothes for their interview on live TV. They barely talk to each other during those days. But they didn't yell at each other either.

At night, alone on her bedroom, Rose heard the conversation in the control centre and took notes: Specific words, times, names, codes… She also knew that the arena was a copy of a Grand Canyon. Beautiful but mortal. She couldn't tell Alfie, even if she wanted to. She didn't trust him. He could tell this secret to other victors and it could be the end.

.

Both kids ending their training with 7 points over 12 and the TV presentation was successful even for the shy Reah.

If kids could make it, was another story. That night, the last night, no one said a word but everyone knew that it was going to be the last supper for one of them. In the worst scenario, both of them.

Alfie found himself staring at the woman he knew as Rosebeth. She was quiet and she didn't look at all like the person of the previous days.

Next part

[shadowreader23]

Batfam prank fic (part 1)

Dick laughed as he  finished changing the color of the suit so it was Illuminous pink , and started adding glitter onto the suit as well. 5 minuotes later Dick stepped back seemingly pleased with his masterpeice clapped his hands together. And smirked.

"Time to get this show on the road." He thought to himself as Tim entered the cave

"Road work ahead?"  Tim quipped

Dick beemed in response it was common knowledge he was obsessed with memes and vines at this point,.

"Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does!" He responded. He had tried to grow closer to Tim latley and it seemd to be working.

Tim looked at the batsuit now pink and sparkly and laughed for a moment, before clearing his throat.

"Why is the batsuit pink?" He asked

Dick grinned in response. Bruce has been even more of a downer latley and its annoying so im trying to liven thing up around here.

"Please tell me thats all you did" Tim said

"Nope!" Dick responded popping the P

"Your not going to tell me what else you did are you?" Tim asked

"No youll see later byt please don't tell bruce"

"Dont worry i wont but honestly this is a pretty boring prank" Tim jnformed his brother

"I'd like to see you do better!" Fick responded Tim relied on caffine for everything and was always tired there was no way he could sucessfuly prank anyone especially Bruce

"Your on!" Tim replied

"May the best brother win" Damien responded from his perch atop the rafter

"When did you get up there!" Dick exclaimed

"I need more caffine to deal with this" Tim groaned and went to make himself a coffee.

Dick hadnt no idea the chaos this would lead to.

Several hours later Bruce came down to the cave with Alfred and Barbara. She was visiting the Manor and bruce had offered her the use of the Batcomputer while the clocktower underwebt repairs.

The lights turned on as they entered the cave and they were all looking at a bright pink sparkly batsuit.

Alfred managed to keep a straight face while Barbara burst into a fit of laughter seing the terrifying batsuit covered in pink and glitter looked so ridiculous. She couldnt help herself. Bruces eye twiched he had a leauge meeting after this and currently no spare suita he had a spare cowl but that woud not help much. Reliuctantly he put on the suit and swapped out the cowl for the spare. He looked ridiculous. Dick watched cakling as Bruce left for his leauge meeting.

"Hey batman thats an uh intresting look you got going on there" flash said

Bruce gave him the most terrifying batglare he ever recieved and flash sped away.

Bstman made his way into the meeting room where Green Lantern burst into laughter

"Not a word" he said in his most threstning voice but he sounded like....Stitch...

"NIGHTWING!" He cursed

"Something tells me i should probably avoid the manor for a few days" Dick informed Alfred

"Master Richard i thought you had outgrown this phase" Alfred sighed remembering the last time a prank war had unflolded in the manor.

"On no Alfie this is just the begining" Dick smirked.

_____

Should i make more parts?

[princesspuresarahk]

The Batman Au: Riddler’s Reform

Chapter: 4 Going home and Cousins reunite

Warning before read for a sexual mature scene in a scene(mustbe18+) hints of heavy Riddlebat

After paying the man Alfred carefully helped Edward into the car and the taxi driver drove away with Alfred going back inside where he came from after a few minutes Edward finally removed the blindfold to see he was in the taxi "All right sir so where to?" A man asked kindly making Edward sign relief as he gave the driver the directions to his cousin's home heading out of Gotham's City limits into its country area. But not long after half an hour a sudden pop startled the taxi causing them to pull over inside of the road. Both getting out they realize that a tire was popped driver whispers a curse under him "Ah dang it! That was my spare I'm sorry Mister looks like I'm going to have to call a tow truck and see if I can get someone to get you home." he said apologetically "no that's all right sir I can just walk from here." The man scratched his head looking up at the clouds "You sure it looks like we're going to have some heavy rain clouds coming soon are you sure you want to walk all the way?" Edward reassured him that he'd be fine "Well okay mister I wish you good luck and be careful." He waved goodbye as he set to call a tow truck Edward made his way out even though he was really out of breath from running all day he didn't mind walking again continuing down the road he could barely see his cousin's house in the distance across some woods and swamp areas he got an idea maybe if he crosses through it he can get there faster so he set off the road into the woods.

After hours of walking and thankfully not running into Croc (who liked to hang out here) or one of his alligators which might still be around Edward soon found the exit that leads outside of the woods and surprisingly out of Gotham oh but he didn't know that it landed in a very muddy swamp Edward ended up falling out landing in the shallow water of icky smelly mud slimy clay and dead plants that stink with the mix of sewer as Edward let out a yell in frustration but at least he was out of that icky maze and from what he could tell now it was beginning to sunset and storm clouds were coming in and he still had a long way to go so getting up he headed towards North after a long, long time of walking and knowing he was far, far away from Joker and Penguin who were probably already caught and sent back to Arkham that Edward finally found his cousin's house just like the description smiling with relief on his face he continued walking the rain began to pour down heavily on him in heavy droplets but he didn't care his main focus was get to the house nor he mind as the rain was washing away most of the gunk on his clothes face and hair as he opens the gate to entrance of the house and made his way up to front porch.

By then it was raining hard getting him soaked to the bone as he rang the doorbell announcing his arrival to his cousin hearing footsteps approach the door Edward braced himself for Scarlet's reaction to his delay as his cousin opened the door with a look of shock and relief of her face "Edward is that you oh thank heavens you had me worried sick!" She was a tall elegant woman standing at 6’0ft with beautiful caramel skin, big exotic sea green eyes and very, very natural red curly hair being the color of red roses that could put Ivy’s to shame “Hi Scarlet… ow…” Edward smiled weakly waving as he winced still feeling beat and battered up from today. He could really use a break and a hot bath “What happened to you? You was supposed to be here hours ago!” Although Scarlet was mad, she was mostly worried and concerned about Edward when she couldn’t find him and spent all day looking for him before heading back to see if he made it to the house waiting for two hours and was about to go out again to search when she heard the knock at the door. He looked tired and it looked like he had bruises. She noticed tears peeking out from his eyes possibly feeling bad for causing her distress, she pulled him into a hug “Come on inside. It’s still pouring.” Scarlet invites him into the nice dry house. As they walked inside Edward kicked off his now very worn-out sneakers as he looked around at Scarlet's and his new home which happened to be an estate the Saddler family had owned for years since the Victorian era and got to admit his cousin had really modernized the place while keeping some of the old aesthetics around.

“I’ll grab you a towel so you can dry off.” Scarlet leaves to go fetch a towel for the very wet Edward who slumped down the sofa. “That would be wonderful Scarlet thank you." He replied smiling as he was lightly still shivering from the rain chill to the bone triplets of water fell from his hair, body and clothes making him a bit guilty and embarrassed of soaking his cousin's new furniture " Uh sorry about wetting your couch ." Apologizing as Scarlet came back with a big white fluffy towel for him handing it to him "Hey, it's fine Eddie. I’ll clean it up later.” Scarlet reassured him as she handed him the big white fluffy. “You want some tea to warm you up?” She asked with a warm smile. “Oh, that would be wonderful." The sound of warm hot tea in his shivering body sounded delightful as he dried himself it brought back memories of him and Scarlet when they were small and always had tea parties together.

At that time he was happy before his poor excuse of a Father made him and his Mother move to another city when he was 5 having to go through 6 years of emotional and(almost physical) torment until his Mum was able to secretly save up enough money to leave him for good taking Edward with her where they were able to retreat to his Aunt Alex (his Mum’s big sister) and Uncle’s home in another State where the Saddler family got them the best divorce Lawyer with his Mum getting full custody of Edward and to fully cut ties with his dimwit Father, had his last name change to his Mother’s maiden ‘Nygma’ Edward shook those memories away for now, right now he is in the present to make new ones as a new Edward G. Nygma!

Meanwhile, Scarlet prepares some caramello tea with cream and honey for her cousin. She brings the steaming tea on a small saucer and hands it to him. “Now…” She sits down on the couch next to him. “I have several questions such as… What happened to you and your clothes? Where have you been all this time?” Edward sighed he knew this was going to come he knew his cousin deserved a good explanation taking a sip and savoring the taste before taking a deep breath “All right it’s kind of a long story I’ll try to not make it too stressful with the details." And so he began his long clarification of what happened. Scarlet was flabbergasted after hearing Edward's long explanation "Oh Edward baby, you've been through so much today huh?." After finishing their tea Scarlet got up to head towards her phone "Hey how about I ordered some takeout and while we wait you go ahead and go take yourself a nice hot shower huh." Edward couldn't agree more as he nodded yes "Okay the bathroom is down the hall on your left go ahead and dump your clothes in the laundry basket too and I'll bring you some fresh pajamas in a little while okay." Again Edward nodded he was ready to get clean and take a nice long hot bath, ”Thanks Scarlet that sounds very wonderful indeed."

Getting up he headed towards where the bathroom was opening the door he was greeted by a beautiful bathroom with lavender violet walls stone marble floor a double sink, a toilet, a giant glass shower and a marvelous big bathtub that was calling his name. But first a shower. Walking towards where the laundry hamper was he quickly stripped himself off his dirty soggy wet clothes throwing them in the basket in a pile and headed towards the shower opening it up he found the handles turning it on as it let out a hot steaming waterfall before him after testing it to a good temperature he stepped inside letting out a pleasurable moan as the hot water poured over his tired pale body he had a few bruises in a couple of places after the day he had but they should heal in a few days. After letting the water completely soak his body Edward set to cleaning himself starting with his hair as he poured himself a glob of shampoo and conditioner scrubbing and washing his long raven locks twice! fiercely getting any dirt or grime out of there before rinsing and doing it again until he was sure everything was completely out. After rubbing his hair clean he proceeded to clean his skin grabbing a loafer he put in a good amount of body sugar scrub until covered in bubbles and proceeded to scrub again fiercely all over his skin fast and hard until it was pink and raw from the intense cleaning as he scrubbed and washed everywhere, after that he grabbed a racer and some shaving foam proceeded to start shaving body hair he didn't like having starting with his legs, armpits, arms and finally the area between his legs he didn't like hair anywhere. After again scrubbing and rinsing again he finally got out turning the water off steam rising from his slightly pink body as he grabbed the towel off the hanger and wrapped it around his hair a few strands poking out Edward then set to have a bath. Carefully walking across the floor still dripping from his shower smelling like coconut lime and mango, Edward made the start of the water filling it up warm before turning the knob and feeling the rest with hot water. As he waited for the water to fill he lit a couple of candles that were standing by the tub for a relaxing mood along with pouring some lavender bath oil, a bath bomb with bath salts good for the body and tossed in a couple of blood orange slices that were by the tub waiting until the bathtub was filled with foamy bubbles he turned off the water and made his way into the tub plus it had a bath pillow with it where he can set and relax his head on as he said “ Oh now this is nice,” letting out another satisfied moan as he let more of the heat relax his sore body. Oh dear lord he was in heaven he might never want to come out. 20 minutes had gone by when Edward heard a soft knock at the door "Edward baby I'm coming in." Scarlet must have his pajamas "Ok." He called out Scarlet opening the door “Hey Edward I got you some pjs and undies left them on your bed." Edward replied "Kay" as Scarlet added that his room would be upstairs on the right. closing the door giving him privacy again after laying in the tub for another 30 minutes until the water was losing its heat and noticing his fingers starting to prune a little Edward knew it was time to get out. Unplugging the tub to drain he climbed out of the bath grabbed himself a big giant fluffy towel and proceeded to dry himself off unwrapping his towel around his head letting his now damp hair fall over his face and wrapping his other one securely over his body he made his way out the door steam leaving the room as he did as he found the stairs down the hall. Once he made it to his room where he found his pajamas sitting on the bed dropping the towel to the floor he made his way to the bed.

The set was made with soft green silk with lace and felt very soft between his fingers he picked up a pair of black underwear along with the shorts and top after he was done he grabbed a hairbrush from the vanity and proceeded to brush his long raven locks brushing out all the tangles until it was silky smooth and soft like a black waterfall after he was done he decided to put it in a loose braid to keep from getting wild and messy in his sleep after all that was done he made his way out downstairs as the sudden smell of food hit his nose declaring that take out was delivered just in time! Scarlet sat by the couch waiting for them. Oh, dear lordie he didn't realize how hungry he was until now only eating half a bagel and small coffee and going throughout the whole day without eating and all that running he had quite an appetite, and his cousin knew what to get! getting some of his favorite sweet and sour chicken, white sticky rice and fried, BBQ boa buns, beef and broccoli, cream cheese crab rangoon wontons, and mei fen noodles. His stomach knew that as it let out a small growl causing him to blush a little. "It's all right Eddie baby cuz you had a long day and deserve a relaxing feast." Scarlet giggled.

Causing him to laugh a little too "Of course thanks Scarlet," he sat down next to her on the couch and they began to chow down and watch a movie (Studio Ghibli's Spirited Away to be exact!) as they ate. "Tomorrow we're going to go out and take you shopping Eddie I have a few clothes for you that you can wear until we can get you a whole new wardrobe setup." Edward understood that "And since you're probably going to need to keep a low profile for a while with the paparazzi we'll be going to a different town a little beyond the outside of Gotham it's a really cute little village-like town and it has lots of good shops and stuff where you can find some really cute clothes that I think will fit your style baby."

At Wayne Manor “I can’t believe it, why would Batman help Riddler out like that? What I find odd is that Batman didn’t hand the Riddler to the cops” said Dick who was with Barbara and Tim up in Bruce Wayne’s building. The three found it odd that Batman who was known to be the spawn of the shadows was safely sending villains on their way instead of handing them over to the authorities. It sounded odd, but the two eldest sidekicks began to find it odd that Batman was now starting to go easy on the Riddler. “That is kinda weird now that you mention it, but… even though he’s despised by all of Gotham’s baddies, Batman still sees these supervillains as people who need serious help. Batman wants these people to change… even though not everyone can” said Barbara as she perused through her book. Dick knew that Barbara was right, and the two began to realize that maybe there was something that Bruce wasn’t telling them. “Bruce is hiding something… and I don’t mean billion-dollar secret base in a cave kind of hidden… why is Bruce this kind with Riddler? I mean he took him back to the cave! Does that have to violate some kind of law?” asked Barbara who found this whole thing with Batman and Riddler odd.

“Hey Alfred, where’s Bruce got to? Is he working in the cave?” asked Jason as he paused his game for a moment. Alfred had just come in to bring Tim his 10:00 pm snack a rare treat he gets to have Friday nights the 5-year-old's favorite chocolate rainbow sprinkled donut with a glass of milk. “Master Bruce has decided to shower and turn in for the night,” said Alfred, he too knew Bruce was seeing the Riddler differently. Still, Alfred decided to stay out of his boss’s business.

In the dark privacy of his room Bruce was having a time of pleasure “E-Edward… 'mm..mmmm ahhh” Groaned Bruce, he was as alone in his room, half nude on his bed black boxers slightly pushed down touching himself excitedly. After that battle today he just had an unexpected rush of sexual stamina go through him hard! (he didn’t know what got into him) causing him to keep it under control trying to ignore it after they got back to the cave and were able to send Edward on his way home after he found himself privacy later after a shower he let himself let loose as Bruce was fantasizing about Riddler and was fondly remembering the time he and the Riddler shared a night of passion. Looking at it was actually his first time being with a man, Bruce knew he was Bi-curious and liked some guys from afar but never really got into it Bruce usually ending having dates or simple one-night stands with the ladies he’s been with but with Edward (ever since that night from their temporary alliance) felt different as Bruce felt frustratingly hot and had his hands all over his muscular body, imagining how good it felt to have the effeminate Edward Nygma so close to him. “Y-you’re so cute… mmmm mmm yes!” Moaned Bruce as he was feeling his hand around his hardened cock, he started stroking himself hard as he thought about when Edward rode him, and how cute his petite partner’s moans sounded. Bruce never masturbated a lot, but it felt so good to do it now. Sometime in the future, Bruce wanted to have Riddler back here at the mansion. Yes, that’s right, a date. Bruce could immediately envision it. “I think I do like guys,” said Bruce as he lightly smiled tiredly before letting out a growl climaxing and drifting off to sleep.

Edward was knocked out after he and Scarlet finished dinner and watched 2 more movies by the time they finished the third one it was already nearing midnight and Edward was bushed “I’m heading to bed Scarlet goodnight,’’ wishing Scarlet a goodnight wave “Alright sweets dreams Eddie baby,” giving Edward a kiss on the head he headed back to his designated room where after flopping on his bed he crawled under the covers he had immediately fallen into a deep dreamless sleep surrounded by comfy soft blankets and big fluffy pillows as he snuggled up into them he knew tomorrow was going to be a new day.

Chapter: 5 Shopping and a date?

[birdiegray01]

He reloaded his computer once then twice and then one final time but no matter what it says the same. He can’t believe it. Talia lied to him, crushed his world, and then forced the lie upon him. She said she miscarried but the ten-year-old talking to Alfred in the med proves otherwise. Bruce had a son; he was a father, something so foreign to him. What even is a father Bruce wouldn’t know his father died when he was 8. Alfred is the closest he’ll ever get but neither man would be willing to admit that.

Bruce remembers meeting her for the first time. He was fourteen angry and in need of guidance and the League of Shadows gave him that. Talia was beautiful and elegant in a way Bruce had never seen before. Her tan skin was soft which contrasted with her rough calloused hands and her hair was long flowing down her back. Bruce was entranced the minute he saw her. Talia didn't make a move until he was seventeen though when he proved his strength and was finally going to leave the league. She came to him and ripped him up from the inside. He never came undone so thoroughly before his insides were mush and she was so sweetly cruel to him.

The two continued to mess around even with him gone until months later she told him of her pregnancy. She was a month along barely even a bump and Bruce was the happiest he had been since his parent's death. He was ready to give it all up his plans, his vengeance all for the bundle of joy Talia would bring. The miscarriage a month later broke him in ways he can’t explain. He never blamed her but a part of him felt it was the Lazarus pits fault that years of use festered and destroyed his child. Talia and he split almost immediately after he couldn’t bear being with knowing what they lost.

Now there’s a child of the right age that’s been dropped on Bruce's doorstep claiming to be his son. Bruce doesn’t know what hurts more the fact that it’s true and didn’t know about him until years later or that Talia lied and raised their son with league ideals without consulting him. Bruce wishes it was false and wishes that this child wasn’t his and just some league ploy to get under his skin but DNA doesn’t lie. Damian Al Goul is his son, his only son, and Talia made him a murderer.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred cuts through Bruce's internal monologue. Bruce looks away from the truth on the screen and to his butler. Alfred has his soulful eyes on with his arm lying in front of him. Alfred is going to try and give advice, but will Bruce listen, probably not. “Talk to him.”

Bruce's face pinches up ‘Talk to him’ Alfred says that like it’s easy. How is Bruce even meant to start that conversation oh hey ‘I’m your dad and Batman so stop killing!’ Yeah, that’d go well. Alfred raises one eyebrow his unsaid sass heard. Bruce sighs tiredly and moves to the med bay passing a pleased Alfred on his way.

He steps into the med bay. The bay has the newest medical equipment and two clean white beds. On the bed left of the entrance is where he sits. The boy looks up at Bruce once again taking his father in. They silently bask in each other’s presence unaware of how to approach the other. Bruce moves to the right bed sitting down in front of Damian.

“Son,” Bruce says almost as a need for confirmation. The acidic green eyes peer into Bruce’s icy blues. The two stare at each other waiting for one to back down. Neither do.

“Father.” Damian's voice is pitchy with a rich accent that makes its way into Bruce’s cementing his neglect. Damian should have a Middle Eastern, British, and polished New Jersey accent, not just the first. Bruce looks down ashamed, letting the ten-year-old win.

“You’ve killed?” Bruce asks, already knowing the answer but desperate for it to be different. Damian tilts his head and squints his eyes slightly pulling a sneer across his face.

“Tt, of course, do you believe me weak?” Damian snarls, his eyes glowing in anger at the perceived offense. Bruce puts his hands up in an attempt to show peace though the boy looks confused. Would Damian know peace probably not, how heartbreaking.

“No, it’s just I have a strict no-kill rule.” Bruce rushes to explain not wanting to further upset the volatile child assassin. The boy's face scrunches up with either confusion, judgment, or both. Damian scrutinizes him in silence, sizing Bruce up once more.

“How come, wouldn’t that make fighting… inconsequential?” Damian questioned accusingly like he expected Bruce to admit to lying.

“Some may think that but to me, killing would make me just as bad as the rogues,” Bruce explains knowing full well Damian will not see it that way.

“Idiotic.” Damian scoffs dramatically, rolling eyes.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Bruce tries to give a genuine smile but his face stains unused to the genuine movement. Damian's face scrunchs up in discomfort.

“Stop doing that.” Bruce laughs and Damian flames with anger. “Don’t laugh at me, you're the one looking like an imbecile!”

Bruce just laughs harder.

[iamfina5]

The Kinslayer Couple

Summary: The ground falls out from beneath Valaena Velaryon’s feet within the span of a week. The week begins with the death of her grandsire, making her mother queen and her Princess of Dragonstone. It ends with the death of her brother Lucerys at the hands of her husband, Aemond Targaryen. From there, Valaena embarks on a perilous journey to win a war against her own kin, forced to discern who are friends and who are foes on both sides of the conflict.

Chapter Twenty: Craven

First Prev/Next

135 A.C.

“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm and steal my throne at no cost?” Valaena stares down at her husband, who at last stands on his knees, put there by Criston. He stares back at her and holds his tongue, defiant to the last.

Sighing, she issues him a more meaningful question. “Where is Aegon?”

This time, he answers her. “I do not know.”

“But you believe he lives,” she gleans. It has been the topic of some debate, whether Aegon’s abscondence from the Red Keep had been wholly successful. Aemond nods. “Wherefore?”

His frown worsens. “Just a feeling.”

Dryly, she remarks, “How romantic.” From beside her, Jacaerys and Baela snicker.

His jaw clenching, Aemond inhales a long breath through his nose. For a moment, Valaena thinks he will make some rejoinder, but no such response comes. Flicking her hand in his direction, she orders that he be taken to his new accommodations to await his remotion to King’s Landing.

As two burly squires drag him from the room, Jacaerys complains, “I still think it best we dispatch him now.”

The decision to take back Dragonstone today had come to her as she laid in bed last night. For a moon, she had been laying the foundation of her plan to oust her usurper husband, but following her coupling with Aemond, she had realized that she was allowing him to ensorcell her anew. She had been swayed nearly to the brink last night, on the verge of admitting her true love for him and just barely withholding the admission. If she did not act swiftly, she had appreciated, she would lose her chance.

Baela reproves Jacaerys before Valaena has the chance. “Her Grace will want the pleasure herself.”

His lips twist in displeasure. “Very well. I shall write to Mother—”

“No, no,” Valaena diverts him, standing from her throne. As a unit, the three of them descend from its dais. “Allow me. I should prefer that you oversee the men.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I did not succeed in that role when last you gave it to me.”

“Don’t be silly,” she admonishes. After months of her brother doubting himself, she has grown tired of his lack of self-confidence. Nevertheless, after the Greens had come harrowingly close to exterminating the lot them by setting the Triarchy on them—and indeed succeeded in stealing little Viserys away—she cannot quite blame him. She keeps her irritation from her voice and sets him on a practical course. “We need free our leal men from the dungeons. I do not trust those who turned for Criston.” Jacaerys nods, more self-possessed with responsibility before him. “Give the commons and the squires to Ser Robert. Let him decide their fates. The knights,” she distinguishes, her eyes trailing to Ser Alfred Bloome, a sullen and sour man, “hang them. They have broken their oaths.”

“And Criston himself,” wonders Baela, her voice low so that the man in question does not overhear.

Biting her lip, Valaena tastes the late Lord Reyne’s blood. “Leave the oathbreaker to me.” 

Keep Reading

[egglantine23]

Titans part 4

Wow it’s been a while with this one! I wanted to sort of lay out a few good ideas for the first season of titans since I never touched it in my first posts. So without further ado here it is:

Let’s get this out of the way nightwing is nightwing from the very beginning no stupid still robin stuff he is nightwing and he moved out of Bruce’s manner.

Cory’s memory loss is fine but I want badass alien star so she is shipwrecked on earth and hiding from her crazy sister

Raven can keep her name for a civilian identity but she goes by her nickname raven, she stays the depressed goth kid who witnessed her moms murder.

And gar is mostly fine but I want to add some things to him since I only really remembering him being very bland, first he’s the theater kid, you don’t have to lie about green hair in theater dyed hair is the norm, but i don’t know if I want to put him in tech or as a actor. Nope great idea he’s in tech which makes him a jack of all traits, the April has a crane license in rottmnt.

Now I of course will now be adding the wonderful and amazing victor stone aka cyborg! Man I missed this guy, he was probably my favorite character in the animated show. He plays high school football and is friends with gar and knows about gars powers, he also knows raven from poetry club

In titans they also introduced Jason Todd as a recurring character but I don’t like that so we will push him to later

Time for PLOT!!!!

In the beginning not much will change for raven and dick, her mom still dies and dick is trying to help her get to a safe place and there being chased by something evil like demons that dick has been searching for for months

Now the deviations gar and victor and walking home from school and they are just about to meet up with victors dad, dr. Stone at his job when Cory’s ship crashes and victor gets caught in the blast, the group rushes him inside and dr. Stone has them bring him to his lab, cyborg is here!

Raven and dick also witness the crash and rush over to help by this time they where able to shake the demons but the crash makes them come back, they are getting destroyed by these demons when star sees them and comes out to help, cyborg is still processing what just happened with his dad and gar, somehow they end up coming to the conclusion that since gar and his family knows a lot about being an outsider cyborg might stay with them a while, we have a heartfelt scene with cyborg and his dad before

Star crashes into the window after being thrown by the demons!

Star gave the group an upper hand but after a while it wasn’t enough, gar and cyborg now join and we get a epic fighting as a team battle

Afterwords dr. Stone comes out to see if his son is ok and recognizes dick from the many times he has worked with Batman, and we have a catch up scene with the group and they realize that there are going to be a lot more demons and someone need to stop them this transitions into the titans tower and the team is now formed.

This is rather a two part episode with more plot I didn’t go over or above is part 1 and below is part 2

Now next episode

Titans tower is an old Wayne building that is sadly unprepared for its new job so dick calls Alfred, no not Bruce he’s still mad at Bruce for whatever reason, Alfred can’t make it so he sends Jason to drop of the stuff instead.

Now time for Jason Todd, now you might ask oh egglantine how will you integrate Jason one of your favorite Battfam members into the story?

I won’t

Yea I love the guy but this is titans and in order to avoid the transition into a Batman show Jason Todd will not be a recurring character. There will be cameos but any story that involves him will be a dick Grayson storyline.

I actually have the idea that as the show progresses the Batfam will be more comic relief or a running gag of no one knows how many siblings dick actually has and dick never tells

*titans in a later season calling batcave* Dick: hi Jason! Gar: wait Jason!! I thought he was dead!!! Jason eating a bagel: yea I’ve been good for like 6 years now Dick: that time you tried to kill us was pretty crazy though 😊 Titans: 😦

This is getting long enough and I have homework so I will see you next time! Also I am more than happy to answer any questions inbox should be open!

[catboy-steve]

I posted 10,738 times in 2022

That's 4,245 more posts than 2021!

64 posts created (1%)

10,674 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bakedbananners

@pax-thuban

@gaygaara

@demipunk

@pocketramblr

I tagged 682 of my posts in 2022

#toh spoilers - 62 posts

#naruto - 10 posts

#so true - 9 posts

#lmao - 7 posts

#incredible - 7 posts

#nicos art - 6 posts

#jason todd - 5 posts

#prev - 5 posts

#harley quinn - 5 posts

#jonathan sims - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and even bill seacaster while i would never call him responsible (unless it comes to like teaching them battling skills) he is so loving !!!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

percy is hazel and nicos big brother and u can not tell me otherwise

27 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

#4

just thinking thoughts abt how harley literally watched ivy die in season 1,,, wish we had gotten to see her deal with that post s1, just what if  harley started being more protective of ivy and starting taking hits for ivy because she cant go through losing ivy again��

47 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

#3

i love all might and think he’s a cool dude, but sometimes i think about how he told a random 14 year old a state secret before crushing his dreams, and then later gave that same kid a power that he couldn’t tell anyone the details about inadvertently cutting him off from his support systems (deku wasn’t allowed to tell his mom or his teachers or his friends) that weren't all might or someone all might knew and i understand all for one, just a little bit 

58 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

#2

i have been thinking and i have formulated a list of ppl who should be allowed to kill the joker/ppl i want to see kill the joker

-harley (duh)

-jason (duh)

-dick

-alfred

-tim (specifically at age like 12, i’ve read multiple fics where he has killed the joker or been directly involved in the jokers death and its great)

-i think it would be funny if they let damian kill him, but specifically 10 year old damian

-barbara 

might add more later im not sure

89 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

made this for trans day of visibility, its probably the best thing i’ve ever made 

image id: a trans flag with a picture of garfield in the bottom right he is visible from the chest up with his right arm slightly out of frame he has sunglasses on he is holding up with his left hand and his ears are back, his expression is serious. there is a stock image of an explosion behind him that is bright orange. in the top right there is another much smaller garfield popping out with a design around him that makes it look like he bust through paper. in the top middle there is orange text over bright green that reads: fun facts with garfield. a little bit below that text is more bright orange text over a bright green square that reads: being tans automatically makes you 100 times cooler and hotter. this is why so many trans people are so cool and hot. in the bottom left there is a picture of naruto pointing at the viewer, he is visible from the waist up and has a blue backpack on and his usual orange jumpsuit. his right eye is closed and he has a big open mouth that is smiling. there is a text bubble above him that reads : naruto uzumaki approves this message! believe it! end id. 

171 notes - Posted March 31, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[toomanyrobins2]

Are You Bald?

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

NOVEMBER

Bruce was once again staring at the clock. It was the 30th of November and he wanted that letter. The October one had been multiple pages and he found himself returning to them at least once a week. He’d even wrote notes in the margin of her assignment she’d sent. In the middle of stuffing it into an envelope, he’d realized what he was doing and threw it across the room. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he heard the doorknob start to turn and quickly looked back at the papers on his desk, trying to seem as though he hadn’t anxiously been awaiting Alfred.

The older man placed the letter down on the desk and as soon as the door was shut behind him, Bruce was tearing into the letter:

15th NOVEMBER

Dear Batman,

Listen to what I've learned today:

The area of the convex surface of the frustum of a regular pyramid is half the product of the sum of the perimeters of its bases by the altitude of either of its trapezoids. It doesn't sound true, but it is--I can prove it!

You've never heard about my clothes, have you? Six dresses, all new and beautiful and bought for me--not handed down from somebody bigger. Perhaps you don't realize what a climax that marks in the career of an orphan? You gave them to me, and I am very, very, VERY much obliged. It's a fine thing to be educated--but nothing compared to the dizzying experience of owning six new dresses. After wearing gingham nearly all my life, this is truly a gift I will never forget. Barbara Gordon came with me to pick them out and tell me what looks good on me. Apparently, because of my skin, I must be careful with my dress. This is a different kind of education from the one you planned for me, but it is apparently very important according to Barbara. I have an evening dress, green mull over silk (I'm perfectly beautiful in that), and a blue church dress, and a dinner dress of royal purple, and another of pale yellow challis, and a grey street suit, and an every-day dress for classes. That wouldn't be an awfully big wardrobe for Harriet Kane, perhaps, but for Y/N Abbott--Oh, my! Of course, one dress would have to be yellow, but it's very pale, nearly a cream. I was worried about the green dress with my hair. I feared I would look like a tree of a person, but Babs was right it is a splendid color. Apparently, I have the perfect coloring for jewel tones. Who knew? 

I suppose you're thinking now what a frivolous, shallow little beast she is, and what a waste of money to educate a girl? When I started high school, I entered another period even worse than the checked ginghams.

You can't know how I dreaded appearing in school in those miserable poor-box dresses. I was perfectly sure to be put down in class next to the girl who first owned my dress, and she would whisper and giggle and point it out to the others. The bitterness of wearing your enemies' cast-off clothes eats into your soul. If I wore silk stockings for the rest of my life, I don't believe I could obliterate the scar.

LATEST WAR BULLETIN! 

News from the Scene of Action.

At the fourth watch on Thursday the 13th of November, Hannibal routed the advance guard of the Romans and led the Carthaginian forces over the mountains into the plains of Casilinum. A cohort of light-armed Numidians engaged the infantry of Quintus Fabius Maximus. Two battles and light skirmishing. Romans were repulsed with heavy losses. 

I have the honour of being, 

Your special correspondent from the front, 

Y/N Abbott

PS. I know I'm not to expect any letters in return, and I've been warned not to bother you with questions, but tell me, Bats, just this once--are you awfully old or just a little old? And are you perfectly bald or just a little bald? It is very difficult thinking about you in the abstract like a theorem in geometry.

Given a tall, rich man who hates girls, but is very generous to one quite impertinent girl, what does he look like?

R.S.V.P.

Staring down at the letter, Bruce felt slightly put-out. The last letter had been nearly five pages. This was just one. One page front and back. What did he care about pyramids? Where was the discussion of her life, of basketball, and Barbara. He’d even take an update  on the insufferable Harriet Kane. Throwing the letter onto the desk, Bruce leaned back in his chair and scowled at it.

DECEMBER

19th DECEMBER

Dear Batman,

You never answered my question and it was very important. ARE YOU BALD?

I have it planned exactly what you look like--very satisfactorily--until I reach the top of your head, and then I AM stuck. I can't decide whether you have white hair or black hair or sort of sprinkly grey hair or maybe none at all.

But the problem is, shall I add some hair to your portrait?

Would you like to know what color your eyes are? They're grey, and your eyebrows stick out like a porch roof (beetling, they're called in novels), and your mouth is a straight line with a tendency to turn down at the corners. Oh, you see, I know! You're a snappy old thing with a temper.

 (Chapel bell.) 9.45 p.m.

I have a new unbreakable rule: never, never study at night no matter how many written reviews are coming in the morning. Instead, I read just plain books--I have to, you know because there are eighteen blank years behind me. You wouldn't believe what an abyss of ignorance my mind is; I am just realizing the depths myself. The things that most girls with a properly assorted family and a home and friends and a library know by absorption, I have never heard of. For example:

I never read Mother Goose or David Copperfield or Ivanhoe or Cinderella or Blue Beard or Robinson Crusoe or Jane Eyre or Alice in Wonderland or a word of Rudyard Kipling. I didn't know that Henry the Eighth was married more than once or that Shelley was a poet. I didn't know that people used to be monkeys and that the Garden of Eden was a beautiful myth. I didn't know that R. L. S. stood for Robert Louis Stevenson or that George Eliot was a lady. I had never seen a picture of the Mona Lisa and (it's true but you won't believe it) I had never heard of Sherlock Holmes.

Now, I know all of these things and a lot of others besides, but you can see how much I need to catch up. And oh, but it's fun! I look forward all day to evening, and then I put an `engaged' on the door and get into my nice red bathrobe and furry slippers and pile all the cushions behind me on the couch, and light the brass student lamp at my elbow, and read and read and read. One book isn't enough. I have four going at once. Just now, they're Tennyson's poems and Vanity Fair and Sherlock Holmes and--don't laugh--Little Women. I find that I am the only girl in college who wasn't brought up on Little Women. I haven't told anybody though (that WOULD stamp me as weird). I just quietly went and bought it with $1.12 of my last month's allowance; and the next time somebody mentions pickled limes, I'll know what she is talking about!

(Ten o'clock bell. This is a very interrupted letter.) 

SATURDAY

Sir,

I have the honor to report fresh explorations in the field of geometry. On Friday last we abandoned our former works in parallelepipeds and proceeded to truncated prisms. We are finding the road rough and very uphill.

SUNDAY

The Christmas holidays begin next week and the trunks are up. The corridors are so filled up that you can hardly get through, and everybody is so bubbling over with excitement that studying is getting left out. I'm going to have a beautiful time on vacation; there's another Freshman who lives in Texas staying behind, and we are planning to take long walks and if there's any ice-- learn to skate. Then there is still the whole library to be read--and three empty weeks to do it in!

Goodbye, Batman, I hope that you are feeling as happy as am. 

Yours ever, 

Y/N

PS. Don't forget to answer my question. If you don't want the trouble of writing, have your secretary telegraph. Just say: Mr. Smith is quite bald, or Mr. Smith is not bald, or Mr. Smith has white hair. And you can deduct the twenty-five cents out of my allowance. Goodbye till January--and a merry Christmas!

TOWARDS THE END OF THE CHRISTMAS VACATION…exact date unknown

Dear Batman,

Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as popcorns. It's late afternoon--the sun is just setting (a cold yellow color) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat using the last light to write to you.

Your five gold pieces were a surprise! I'm not used to receiving Christmas presents. You have already given me such lots of things-- everything I have, you know--that I don't quite feel that I deserve extras. But I like them just the same. Do you want to know what I bought with my money?

I. A silver watch in a leather case to wear on my wrist and get me to recitations in time.

II. Matthew Arnold’s poems

III. A hot water bottle

IV. A steamer rug, because my tower is dreadfully cold.

V. 500 sheets of yellow manuscript paper

VI. A dictionary of synonyms. (To enlarge this author's vocabulary.) 

VII. (I don't much like to confess this last item, but I will.) A pair of silk stockings.

And now, never say I don't tell all! It was a very low motive, if you must know it, that prompted the silk stockings. Harriet Kane comes into my room to do geometry, and she sits cross-legged on the couch and wears silk stockings every night. But just wait--as soon as she gets back from vacation I shall go in and sit on her couch in my silk stockings. You see, the miserable creature that I am but at least I'm honest; and you knew already, from my record, that I wasn't perfect, didn't you?

To recapitulate (that's the way the English instructor begins every other sentence), I am very much obliged for my seven presents. I'm pretending to myself that they came in a box from my family in California. The watch is from my father, the rug from my mother, the hot water bottle from my grandmother who is always worrying for fear I shall catch a cold in this climate--and the yellow paper from my little brother Harry. My sister Isabel gave me the silk stockings, and Aunt Susan the Matthew Arnold poems; Uncle Harry (little Harry is named after him) gave me the dictionary. He wanted to send chocolates, but I insisted on synonyms. You don't object, do you, to playing the part of a composite family? And now, shall I tell you about my vacation, or are you only interested in my education as such? I hope you appreciate the delicate shade of meaning in `as such'. It is the latest addition to my vocabulary.

The Senior girl from Texas is named Diana Prince. I like her, but not so much as Barbara Gordon; I shall never like anyone so much as Babs--except you. I must always like you the best of all because you're my whole family rolled into one. Diana and I and two Sophomores have walked 'cross country’ every pleasant day and explored the whole neighborhood, dressed in short skirts and knit jackets and caps, and carrying shiny sticks to whack things with. Once we walked into town--four miles-- and stopped at a restaurant where the college girls go for dinner. Broiled lobster (35 cents), and for dessert, buckwheat cakes and maple syrup (15 cents). Nourishing and cheap. It was such a lark! Especially for me, because it was so awfully different from the orphanage--I feel like an escaped convict every time I leave the campus. Before I thought, I started to tell the others what an experience I was having. The cat was almost out of the bag when I grabbed it by its tail and pulled it back. It's awfully hard for me not to tell everything I know. I'm a very confiding soul by nature; if I didn't have you to tell things to, I'd burst.

We had a molasses candy pull last Friday evening, given by the house matron of Fergusson to the left-behinds in the other halls. There were twenty-two of us altogether, Freshmen and Sophomores and Juniors and Seniors all united in amicable accord. The kitchen is huge, with copper pots and kettles hanging in rows on the stone wall-- the littlest casserole among them about the size of a wash boiler. Four hundred girls live in Fergusson. The chef, in a white cap and apron, fetched out twenty-two other white caps and aprons-- I can't imagine where he got so many--and we all turned ourselves into cooks.

It was great fun, though I have seen better candy. When it was finally finished, and ourselves and the kitchen and the door-knobs all thoroughly sticky, we organized a procession and still in our caps and aprons, each carrying a big fork or spoon or frying pan, we marched through the empty corridors to the officers' parlor, where half-a-dozen professors and instructors were passing a tranquil evening. We serenaded them with college songs and offered refreshments. They accepted politely but dubiously. We left them sucking chunks of molasses candy, sticky and speechless.

So you see, Bats, my education progresses!

Don't you really think that I ought to be an artist instead of an author? Vacation will be over in two days and I shall be glad to see the girls

again. My tower is just a trifle lonely; when nine people occupy a house that was built for four hundred, they do rattle around a bit.

Eleven pages, you must be tired! I meant this to be just a short little thank-you note--but when I get started I seem to have a ready pen.

Goodbye, and thank you for thinking of me--I should be perfectly happy except for one little threatening cloud on the horizon. Examinations come in February. 

Yours with love, 

Y/N

PS. Maybe it isn't proper to send love? If it isn't, please excuse me. But I must love somebody and there's only you and Mother Waller to choose between, so you see--you'll HAVE to put up with it because I can't love her.

Bruce felt like a dirty old man. He couldn't stop the picture of Y/N in her robe and silk stockings. He sat in his study, trying to fight off the images. It was too easy to imagine her sitting in his favorite chair by the fireplace in his study while he worked. She would pad in quietly, her messy locks hanging freely over her shoulders, and head straight for his books. Completely ignoring him and yet, it was the definition of domestic bliss.

He shook his head and, too violently, shoved the newest letter with the others. “You keep the letters?” Clark’s voice startled Bruce, not that he’d ever admit it, “You’ve never done that before.”

“They are entertaining. She is studying to be a writer after all.” 

“Of course," Clark just smiled like he knew a secret that Bruce wasn’t privy to, "Now, can we go? The host disappearing from his own New Years' party is never a good look. Lois has called for us three times?"

"Yes, fine." Bruce stood up and stared down at the drawer again. he couldn't help but wonder what Y/N was doing to celebrate.

[brisbookmark]

The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending

One

His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head. 

Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.

He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound. 

The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.

And he’s scared.

He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.

It’s blood, it’s always been blood.

He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now. 

Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.

Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.

All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.

Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.

It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her. 

He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all. 

And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again. 

Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother, 

No, he couldn’t. 

Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.

"What's that my boy?"

"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."

The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.

His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her. 

Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already. 

He wanted someone to save him.

"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.

Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth. 

"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."

"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.

"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar. 

No. Please, anything but that. 

"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.

The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries. 

"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again. 

"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.

"Who's hurting you Jason?"

"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones. 

"Wrong!" 

"The, the Joker-"

"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."

Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."

The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.

Two

He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult. 

Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.

The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.

Batman hadn't even tried. 

"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."

The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.

"Jason."

"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.

Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths. 

"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"

Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.

The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.

It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.

He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.

He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting. 

"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain, 

He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.

“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”

Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway. 

“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes. 

“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”

Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.

Well, be careful what you wish for. 

Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all. 

He starts crying.

He doesn’t know when he stops.

The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.

One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him. 

"Bruce-, bruce stop-"

The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."

The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.

Songbird.

"You can't.."

"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.

"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."

The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.

His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.

"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!" 

"SHUT UP-"

"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.

If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.

"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness. 

"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this? 

"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck. 

He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A. 

Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.

THE.

Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-

JOKES.

Jason feels like vomiting. 

ON.

Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it. 

YOU.

The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing. 

Three

Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.

This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.

Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.

He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball. 

"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.

The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go. 

Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.

"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer. 

"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.

Stop touching him. Stop hurting him. 

He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.

He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder. 

It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared. 

He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever. 

Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him. 

The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.

When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.

"What a shame you couldn't handle it."

x

Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.

Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.

They found something better.

For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old. 

"Jason?"

The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.

"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness. 

The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay. 

Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.

But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.

Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close. 

He's gonna be okay.

Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.

She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like. 

Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear. 

He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up. 

"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.

That doesn't matter now.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."

Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.

It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.  

Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.

One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters. 

She doesn't say anything. She knows.

Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running. 

Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.

Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.

"Jay, side of my mask, the-"

"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.

"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.

"I'm here. Did you..?"

"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement. 

Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."

"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!" 

"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause. 

"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."

The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.

"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster. 

"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"

"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle. 

"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.

She's told to go right and through a door.

There's two sets of footsteps now.

Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"

"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities. 

"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."

"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men. 

His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm. 

He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar. 

Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd. 

Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room. 

No. 

No.

The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again. 

x

Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

[ggomos-maribat]

D-DAY Chapter 2 | 244 Days Before

Her contact hadn't been modest in his description of Gotham. The city was as insipid as he told her, with puffs of mixed clouds and smog looming over. not as guards but as judgmental observers. Muted colors accompanied black umbrellas and gray pavements. Even the greener areas was a smudge in the scenery, rather than a striking element of surprise.

Marinette pushed on the gates of the manor. She had one pink suitcase, a matching purse, and a will to survive the city.

At first, she had planned to rent a humble apartment but when a family friend had caught news of her visit, he immediately urged her to reside in the manor instead. She jumped at the offer rather quickly when he mentioned that she could earn some money as his assistant.

"Marinette, it's good to see you." Alfred welcomed her at the door, helping her with the luggage.

She gave a smile and a wave. "Alfred, hello. Thanks for inviting me again."

The interior of the house exceeded the grandiosity she had seen in her rich friends' abodes. She couldn't help but gawk at the chandelier and pristine carpeting. Alfred manages all of this on his own?

"The masters are not around at the moment," said Alfred. "Shall I take you to the bedroom and tour you around the house?"

"Sure." She nodded.

The prepared bedroom looked comfy enough. Alfred had even added a sewing machine for her to use. After the tour, they headed to the back gardens for afternoon tea and snacks.

"How did you find the trip here? I would've fetched you if you told me about your flight schedule." Alfred set down two cups of green tea on the table, along with an array of pastries.

She laughed a little. "Exactly why I never told you. I just got a cab."

His expression was tinged with disapproval; she sounded like she was making herself a clear target for crime. Despite this, Alfred didn't comment on it. "What do you think of Gotham so far?"

"Just like how you said it would be." Marinette shrugged. "Guess I have to get in touch with my depressive side to fit in."

"It does take some time to get used to."

"I'll try to adapt more quickly."

"I'm happy you volunteered to take some work off my hands," said Alfred, as he passed her the sugar. "You will be on kitchen duty most of the time. I'm certain the masters will appreciate a new style of cooking."

Marinette brought the teacup to her lips, savoring its warmth against the cool weather. "I can help with anything you ask, don't worry."

"I wouldn't want to get in the way of your other . . . responsibilities."

Other responsibilities. She pursed her lips.

"I have more than enough time for them," she assured. "Speaking of cooking, is there anything I need to know? Allergies and restrictions? Likes and dislikes?"

Alfred took a piece of cheese bread. "Not everyone in the family stays in the manor everyday, but there are times where they do dine together. As for restrictions, I have prepared some lists for your perusal."

"Of course you have," Marinette smiled, eyes glittering. She and Alfred were similar like that.

"If you would like, you can also help in ordering our groceries if there are any ingredients you wish to purchase."

She reached for a puff pastry, still warm from the oven. "I was thinking of baking something as a 'thank you' for taking me in. You said the family will be around for dinner tonight . . . how about macarons?"

"Macarons would be wonderful. I believe I have the ingredients stocked," Alfred replied.

Although cooking and baking weren't first in line for her career options, Marinette was satisfied with gaining new experiences.

"I must warn you about the boys. They can be quite a handful." Judging from the exasperation in his tone, Alfred seemed to stand by that on a daily basis.

"Not as chaotic as my friends, hopefully."

"I would say they can be a headache." He sighed. "If they give you trouble, feel free to inform me."

The Wayne family . . . She had done her fair share of research. Obviously, there was much more than what the public knew. She was already aware of their nightly escapades, but she'd never dare tell them that she was in the know.

Marinette leaned back on the chair.

"How are your Guardian duties?"

Her lip caught between her teeth. She didn't expect him to bring it up. "It's going well," she responded coolly, touching one of her earrings. "I brought two Miraculouses with me but I don't plan on using them that much. Only for emergencies."

"The kwamis?"

"I'll make sure to keep them hidden." She needed to avoid unwanted attention after all.

"If you need help, you're welcome to ask me." Alfred poured another cup of tea. "You need a healthy recovery. I do think Gotham is not the best place for it, however a getaway from Paris is suitable."

No. Leaving Paris won't do anything different. I'm not here to escape from it. I'm here for something else. She swallowed. A part of her regretted telling Alfred about Paris.

Her gaze lowered. "Yes, I'll keep that in mind."

---

Tim padded down the stairs wrapped in a blanket from the top of his head, down to his ankles. The manor was quiet. It usually was. Heavy curtains hung motionlessly, barring the sunlight from intruding. Oak furniture held nothing but lifeless objects with dust littered inside nooks and crannies. The hallway seemed to stretch for miles. Empty. Hollow.

It was like the Drake Manor all over again.

He was lucky Alfred persuaded him to get some sleep. If he hadn't spent the hours in his slumber, he would've collapsed in the middle of the meeting. But the problem with sleeping was that his extra work would pile up, and he'd spiral into a draining schedule once again.

Work. Eat. Work. Drink coffee. Patrol. Work. And repeat.

He wouldn't mind extra company. But the others had lives of their own, immersed in their timelines that seldom crossed with his. If he voiced out his complaints, he was sure they wouldn't take him seriously if they were even there to listen to him in the first place.

And so he trudged, dragged his starving body along the hall, thinking maybe—maybe—if he reached out to any of his siblings, at least one would try to spend time with him.

Tim took one step into the kitchen and froze. "Who are you?"

Everything hit him at the same time: the scent of baked pastries, the heat coming from the oven, the sight of an unfamiliar girl holding a mixing bowl. His unfocused eyes blinked tiredly.

"You must be Mr. Drake. It's nice to meet you." The girl smiled. "I'm Marinette. I'll be helping Alfred around the manor."

Tim blinked again. His fuzzy memories recalled Alfred and Bruce announcing a newcomer, with a warning to hide signs of their vigilante activity. But he couldn't remember the specifics.

He eyed her suspiciously.

"Did Alfred not mention anything . . .?" The girl frowned.

Tim cleared his throat, taking a seat on one of the barstools. "Yeah, sorry I kind of forgot."

He completely forgot. He would've done a background check if he had a clear mind during the past few days. Not that Bruce or Alfred wouldn't have done one as well. He was cautious of strangers he knew nothing about, especially if they were allowed inside the manor.

"It's all good. I'm baking macarons for dinner's dessert. Alfred's trimming in the gardens but I'll let him know you're awake." Marinette pointed to a metal tray. "Would you like me to make you something? Brunch? Snacks?"

His stomach growled loudly. Tim blushed. "Brunch, please."

She nodded. "Any preferences?"

"Anything edible, thank you."

She grabbed a plate of the macarons and handed it to him. "Here, help yourself while I prepare."

Tim took a yellow piece between his fingers as he stared at it. It wouldn't be smart to readily accept it from someone he didn't know yet. But if Alfred knows her and trusts her enough, that's okay, right? He took one bite. A sour flavor erupted in his mouth, satiating a part of his appetite.

He took more macarons as he watched her glide around the kitchen. Short stature, agile, dark hair, he noted, an accent . . . she's not from around here.

"So where did you come from?" Tim asked.

"Paris," she answered breezily. "Alfred's a longtime friend of my grandmother. He suggested I come work here when I mentioned my trip to Gotham."

"Why the sixth circle of hell?"

Marinette laughed a bit. "Opportunities. Some friends of mine have connections in Gotham, so I'm thinking of reaching out to them."

Still, coming to Gotham of all places was rather sketchy. He'd have to look more into her reasons during the background check.

"Does that include Wayne Industries?"

Pink tinted her cheeks. "Yeah, it does. Oh, but I'm not planning to take advantage of my work here or anything like that!"

The corner of his lips tugged upwards. "Too bad, I was planning to give you an easy way in as co-CEO."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'd rather earn my merits, Mr. Drake."

"Tim. Call me Tim."

"Tim," she repeated.

Marinette moved towards an open binder propped on top of a chair. Tim took a peek and saw that it was a set of instructions from Alfred. She continued her cooking before finally giving him a steaming cup of coffee (and she knew to use his favorite mug!)

The first sip took him to the heavens. The ambrosia drink burned his tongue but satisfied the junkie in him. It was unlike anything he'd tasted before.

"This is amazing," he rasped out.

"My personal brew!" She chirped. "I tend to pull a lot of all-nighters myself."

He'd drink it everyday. Inject it into his bloodstream if he could. Marinette must've seen his stunned expression. "Are you leaving for work today? I can pack you a thermos," she said.

His eyebrows shot up. "I'd like that."

Tim eagerly sipped on his coffee as the smell of brunch wafted around in the room. Doesn't matter if it's poisoned, he decided, this is my new drug.

He pouted at the empty mug afterwards. "If you can make this everyday . . ."

"I'll make sure to have it on hand all the time."

Finally, she slid the plate food in front of him before grabbing a cup of coffee for herself and settling by the bar. Tim held himself back from wolfing down the whole thing in seconds.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect anyone from the family to be home," she told him, drinking her coffee. "Alfred said I'll be meeting everyone tonight."

He grimaced. "I think he assumed that I won't be waking up until later today. Actually, I usually stay in my apartment, not in the manor. Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize. I was just a bit surprised." She ran her thumb on the cup handle. "I don't mind the company."

I don't mind the company.

He could say the same for her. As they fell into a continuous conversation, Tim slowly compared her to a breath of fresh air, a wave of color in the restrictive walls of the manor. The kitchen felt alive with her in it. The entire manor even.

"What do you do that makes you so sleep-deprived, by the way?" he asked.

"Clothing commissions, designing, my online courses," she listed off. "Making sure my friends don't get into trouble. I also helped in my family's bakery."

A fashion designer, he stored the thought away for later. "Sounds like a lot." He lifted a spoonful of food. "More hectic than my life."

"I'm sure you're busier." She shook her head, ponytail swaying. "I can't imagine what it's like to oversee a company of your own."

"Yeah, I won't recommend that life." Not to mention the vigilante gig.

"Before I forget." She set her cup aside and laced her fingers together. "Do you have any advice for meeting your family?"

Bruce will pull out his faux persona either way, he wanted to answer, and the others will be too preoccupied to pay attention to you. It was even a miracle they'd be getting together for dinner.

"You don't have to be nervous, they're not—err—stuck-up people if that's what you're worried about," he replied. "Alfred's already vouching for you. It's not like they can change his decision. Also, your macarons are enough to win them over."

Her lips parted. "You think the macarons are good?"

"More than good."

"Will you be here tonight?"

There's papers to be signed. Background check. Monitoring. Board meetings. Project proposals. Emails to be answered. That one favor for Babs that I haven't finished.

"Sure, I'll be there."

Marinette smiled widely. Her radiance seemed to spread around the place. It was strange for her to be in gloomy, ruthless Gotham. She was an outsider among outsiders. At the same time, Tim couldn't say that her presence was unpleasant.

She went back to the kitchen counter to brew more coffee for his thermos. "I'll pack macarons with this, if you want."

"Can I get two boxes? I'll give one to my assistant as a peace offering."

She chuckled. "Of course."

Tim's gaze flickered to his empty plate. He was full. Energy buzzed in him. The loneliness had somewhat disappeared.

When was the last time I felt like this?

He blew out a shaky breath whilst watching Marinette. She was still a mystery. He was yet to know everything about her but his subconscious already chose to trust her. Breath hitching at the realization, he gripped the edge of the bar.

Tim rubbed both his eyes. I have to start coming to the manor more often. 

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