#shouldn’t know so now Dick and Bruce are convinced the Red Hood knows their identities

[spidey29phangirl]

@ghost-bxrd oh my god yes that is brilliant Tim is a menace when he wants to be and he’s always down to lying to B, so now? when Jay’s asking him not to tell the bats his identity?? Tim is obviously not gonna go snitching, instead he plots how to get Jason to tell his family himself.

Straight up refusing to leave makes for a great start. Annoy Jason back into the family. Jason choosing to deny everything Tim says about his family missing him.

(“he didn’t even come to my funeral,” “Jason, Dick didn’t even know there WAS a funeral to attend to.”)

JAY ACTING THE PART IN THE KIDNAPPING SHTICK 💜 I adore that, i imagine he doesn’t even feel bad about doing it, the bats they 1. allowed tim to be robin (because fine okay maybe Jason wasn’t “replaced” or whatever but he stands by the fact Timmers should’ve never have been in a place he felt Bruce needed an emotional support robin) and 2. fed what to this child?? he’s unhinged, touch starved (and clearly has never had any supervision in his life)

Jason ends up establishing routine to provide a somewhat sense of normalcy and his life seems almost domestic now??what the fuck. our bois can’t even remember the last time they cuddled this much with someone (yes, yes they can (Jay with his dad but he refuses to remember cause then he’ll think he’ll cry if he does. The longing and the sorrow he’d pushed down too much to even think of acknowledging it.) (He had ignored it the first time Talia told him Bruce had replaced him. He shoved it every time he threw himself at the worst Gotham had to offer and came back to a place where there was no one waiting for him. He barely contained it when he he’d realized he’d been consumed by rage every second during the best part of three years over people who didn’t even know he was alive—who had let his murderer live when he hadn’t—who hadn’t even noticed his desecrated grave—)

(and Tim with his other older brother Dick, who probably just saw in him the brother he lost. It was what Tim always told himself as he soaked the piece of affection the older boy gave him. Did Tim chastise himself for basking in it? yes, maybe, but Tim hoped he was at least helping Dick cope. He kept reminding himself that he wasn’t really who Dick really wanted—because that was the thing. Tim never seemed to be who anyone wanted him to be. It was his parents when they left him because he wasn’t enough to get them to stay, it was Bruce when he started to say another name only to cut off with a pang of hurt and disappointment in his voice, it was Alfred who looked out in grief and hazy distance when Tim arrived injured from a rough patrol in the same colors his grandson had died on—)

WOW, angst train. I didn’t want that but it sets the mood. ANYWAY, because we need some fluff and also because both are vigilantes and nightmares are part of the package deal, when they do cuddle (and it’s unspoken) is when one puts their comfort movie or tv show in the TV, wrapped in a blanket in the couch and waiting for both exhaustion to take its toll and for the other to see the signs and join them. When Jason is the first one to falls asleep he often finds himself taking the better part of the couch, when it’s Tim, he always falls asleep on Jason, be it head to the shoulder, feet on legs, or head on lap.

Their little routine is actually improving their mental health (a little, give them that, i know they both have sooo much issues) Jason is the first who takes initiative when the baby bird won’t leave (after all someone HAD to put the example of self care habits and we all know that wasn’t going to be Tim) (JSJHK Tim actually doesn’t mind doing them, but he doesn’t if Jason doesn’t. Its idiotic, like they’re both tricking each other into taking care of themselves. It’s adorable)

Tim!! patrolling with Jason!! That’s lowkey awesome, let me tell you. Tim’s over the moon I can imagine and Jason’s just shaking his head not even trying to stop him. Baby birds get relentless too, and playing the part in his own kidnapping never meant Tim would actually commit to the house arrest bit—besides Tim told Jason himself how he became Robin. It’s parallels. Even though don’t get him wrong Jay still very much disapproves there’s still a Robin, especially one with the self preservation instincts of a wet paper bag (at least he’s where Jason can see him and keep alive)

I’m just imagining all of Gotham trying to figure out what’s happening because that’s Robin? With the guy who put heads in a duffel bag?? What is he doing here? That’s the third time this week,, and oh shit Red Hood’s super protective of him? Didn’t He hate the Bats?? Oh wait there they are and oh shit oh shit backtrack He still does. Just imagine the fight?? In one side you got the original duo, Batman and Nightwing, who are the ones with most experience but who think their Robin is compromised and also don’t know the Red Hood is more than just a highly trained assassin (they recognize league training but let’s say they don’t recognize the distinctive bat one or maybe they do and that throws them off so badly) and on the other, you got the younger side of the family that actually knows what’s happening behind the scenes, and who can concentrate better because of it (Jason knows they’re holding back against their little bird and that he is the primary target) (and Tim because he knows he’s there to keep the idiot that keeps goading to their family that Robin switched sides and B and Dick from seriously beating the hell out of each other.) (Putting himself between them works like a charm) and besides he’s literally having the time of his life being in the other side of a fight with B and N, I mean at first he’s indignant they’re holding back, but Tim’s like super quick to use the fact that they think he’s “brainwashed” to force them into giving him a real challenge and also, also he’s fighting alongside his childhood Robin.

Tim is literally bursting with energy, you better believe he’s putting it all in this fight. I mean like yes his plan was to make the bats worry to keep Jason on his toes and force a confrontation and have Tim maybe purposely taking a hit and fake falling to activate all mother hen instincts or smth but, but he’s having fun.

(can you even blame him?)

I’m just picturing the very next day this idiots talk about having another hostage photo shoot:

(“but why do I have to?” “timbit I made my hate for them more than clear and i ended that fight more than mad—it’s safe to assume they think I killed you when we left,”

“oh please you wouldn’t even leave me take the fight to another rooftop because you were worried they would suddenly have no restrain and break my ribs or smth Jason, you think they didn’t notice your hovering?“

“fine. still we gotta update them that you’re fine and not dead robin number two.” )

Tim, who knows this is his brother’s chaotic way of keeping the rest of the bats from worrying too much because he cares:

progress ✨

ok you said go wild and i will fully embrace that. i wanted to brainstorm about this idea I had and had also posted but like in a sentence, when it’s more of an outline. it’s of a robin!tim that can sense dead people so when the red hood makes his debut he’s naturally curious and tim follows him around and jason obviously realizes, holds up a knife to his throat and startles when tim asks “how are you here” with just no regards for his own safety and genuine curiosity?? literally not knowing he’s jason but jason stops and goes “you know who I am?” and tim whispers “I know you died” and jason coils back because that is as much confirmation as he needs cue panic because the kid knows surely then the bat knows too and that just won’t do, so in his panic he ends up kidnapping the kid and taking him to his safehouse where he keeps pacing because jason needs answers and he refuses to get them torturing the kid (because fucking kid had gone out looking for him despite knowing the red hood had it out of his head, did this kid even have any self preservation skills? he didn’t even seemed fazed jason’s back??which wow, hurt not gonna lie) then when tim wakes up because jason knocked him unconscious the reveal happens and Tim is so shocked that Jason is shocked because bitch I thought you knew!!! what how the fuck would I know!! chaos ensues but then jason abruptly realizes this is great! his plans did not derail *looks at timbo munching his food and watching indiana jones* his plan with the bat he means

Jason, sitting in a room with all his plans on fire: This is fine :’D

No but seriously, I LOVE a Tim with the self preservation instinct of a wet paper towel. He’s a competent teen vigilante, but where it concerns the Bats (and especially his hero, Jason) he’s an absolute human disaster.

Ok but first of all we need to talk a bit more thoroughly about “sensing the dead” thing. Dead as in ghosts? Or dead as in— murder victims and such. Either would apply to Jason if we go with a “Death clings to people who’ve seen beyond the veil” scenario, but Tim’s thoughts would differ vastly upon first meeting the Red Hood.

And Jason, poor Jason, the Pit Madness didn’t stand a chance faced with what is essentially a toddler looking at him with wide and curious eyes, so damn trusting despite that knife to his throat, and he’s just losing his mind because he could have slit Tim’s throat and nobody would have found out until it was too late. What if Jason had been literally anybody else? The kid would have died.

Obviously this Robin can’t be trusted to keep himself safe/alive, that means Jason has to do it for him. Easy. He can do this. It’s cool. Jason is freaking the fuck out.

Tim, upon realizing that the Red Hood is Jason, promptly goes from mildly alarmed over his kidnapping to ✨starstruck✨ and steadfastly refuses to leave Jason’s safehouse unless Jason agrees to come back to the manor. No, he doesn’t care about the multitude of death threats (he totally calls the bluff from the get go).

Jason promptly decides to make the best out of a shitty situation and pretends to be an evil kidnapper and just— keeps dangling the baby bird over Bruce and Dick’s head, slipping them concerning photos (Tim wasn’t exactly happy about the “hostage photo shooting session” but he agreed after Jason promised to make him his special coffee flavored cake) and telling them he’s torturing their Robin with a crowbar (because Jason is a drama queen).

And you know what else would be funny? If, after a few days, Tim slips out to go on patrol with Jason. He completely ignores Bruce and/or Dick when the call out to him and actively helps Hood with his crime stuff (while also sneakily forcing Hood to cut down on the killing by about— 80-90%).

Bruce and Dick are fairly convinced they’re looking at a brainwashing situation.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 14: Back to Basics (De-Aged)

AO3

Prev

The constant attention after her temporary death was a little stifling. Adrien was good about not overwhelming her. He’d seen her take bad hits before and he knew (from personal experience) that the cure would bring the two of them back to normal. No, despite being there in person as she died, Adrien was not drowning her in attention. She was thankful.

Her family, despite her constant reassurances however, did not get the memo. That she was okay. That she would be okay. Now and in future attacks. No, instead they constantly blew up her phone. ESPECIALLY during akuma attacks. Which was one of the only times she didn’t even have her phone on her. But whatever. One good thing did come from her temporary death though. She was talking to her dad. Like, actually talking. The bonding kind of talking. He wouldn’t talk to her about hero stuff (though she imagined he also wanted to forget about her “death” seeing as it was the third time he’d seen the dead body of one of his children). No, instead they got to know each other. She asked about Bridgette, which led to her finding out about his fiance- Selina Kyle. Marinette was really looking forward to meeting her, hopefully next time she took a portal to Gotham.

They also talked about Marinette’s designs- Uncle Jagged, MDC, how the company started, where she wanted to go with the company. Most of their conversations stayed at the surface level of getting to know you, but they were definitely getting closer. Though, she thought that if he’d just talked to her about hero work already (or took her on another patrol), their bonding would happen more naturally. Less like twenty questions. Her brothers, though…

Her brothers were constantly asking questions about how she was, how she felt, if she was safe, if she was sure they couldn’t convince her to leave Paris. It was a lot. But still nice. Nice to know that they cared so much, even if her death was only temporary (as she’d tried to remind them a million times).

The whole “dying painfully and then being resurrected after the battle” thing also led to her and Adrien making a lot of plans. Different ideas and things to do in case of certain akumas, types of attacks, deaths, just a LOT of contingency plans. She’d filled Alfred in on some of the plans, since several involved that half of her family or running to Gotham. But she didn’t tell her brothers. Or her dad. No need to worry or stress them out more than they already were. So she moved on. For several weeks. An entire month passed without Hawkmoth using a nightmare inducing akuma. It was nice. --- Adrien Agreste was not having a good day. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault though. Well, okay that’s a lie. It was definitely his fault. He’d thought after his crazy declaration in Gotham, asking Mari out would be easy. Simple. It was not. All the times he’d said she was “just a friend” were definitely coming back to haunt him. Every single time he tried to ask her out, something happened. An akuma attack. Marinette fell. Emergency photoshoot. Mari dropped all of her stuff and was almost late to class. Lila got someone to confront Marinette about something. He suddenly had an extra fencing lesson with Kagami.

But no more. No. Even though today hasn’t exactly gone as planned (overslept, late for photoshoot which made him extra late for school, got permission to eat at school but forgot to bring his food and then Mari left lunch instead of staying because her brother called so he didn’t even get to see her, forgot his science homework- yeah, bad day) it would be better. Because now he’s walking over to Mari’s and he’s going to ask her out if it’s the last- The shrill blaring of the akuma alarm breaks him out of his thoughts. Really? Now? Groaning, he darts into an alley.

“I blame you.” He deadpans to Plagg, glaring at the kwami’s maniacal laughter.

“Sure kid, sure. You know Pigtails is crazy ‘bout you. Doesn’t mean anything that you can’t ask her out.” He says once his laughter dies down.

“I hope you’re right.” Adrien mumbles. “Plagg, claws out!” He smirks as he’s transformed, feeling a lightness he hasn’t felt all day. He immediately uses his staff to launch himself onto the roof, taking in his surroundings. No crazy weather. No giant stone monster or baby. Nothing flying around. Nothing looks out of the ordinary. Frowning, he retracts his staff to call Ladybug. It rings, but she doesn’t answer.

“Hey Bugaboo. Where should we meet? I don’t see anything unusual. Call me back.” He hands up and decides his best bet is to patrol around, keep an eye out for anything unusual. Just as he starts to think that maybe it was a false alarm, a red blob flies at him. He blinks.

“Chat! Follow me!” Tikki directs, whirling around and zooming away. Adrien’s heart sinks. Please let her be okay. I can’t watch her die again. Please. The words go on a cycle in his head as he runs behind Tikki, too worried to ask. He frowns when she dips down into an alley where someone- not Mari- is waiting.

“What’s going on?” He asks, completely confused.

“The akuma was able to get to Marinette before she could transform.” Tikki explains and Adrien frowns.

“Marinette? Are you- that’s Marinette?” He asks in bewilderment. The girl standing in front of him couldn’t be older than three.

“Unfortunately. The akuma can de-age people.” Tikki says with a sigh.

“Oh gosh, okay. Hi, I’m Chat Noir!” Adrien says, squatting down so that he’s eye level. He extends a hand, smiling at the girl.

“Kitty!” She giggles, throwing her arms around him.

“Oh, uh, hi.” He says, putting his arms around her and picking her up. He turns to Tikki.

“So is this one of those “take her to Mr. Wayne until the fight is over because she can’t be Ladybug right now” situations? Or a “hide her until this is all over” situation? We had  a lot of plans. De-aging was not one of them.” Adrien asks.

“Take her to Mr. Wayne. This akuma is sneaky and we can’t risk Marinette revealing her identity.” Tikki says.

“What?” Adrien asks. How could a baby Mari reveal her identity?

“Adri, wanna cookie please.” Mari says with a pout. His jaw drops and she giggles, patting his face. “Silly kitty!”

“She still knows?” He asks, his voice jumping an octave as he panics. How much did she know? Did she still know everything about the other kwami and the other heroes and- oh god, her dad is Batman. Oh this could be bad. Very bad.

“Okay, nevermind that, where are the glasses? I’ve got to get her out of here before someone hears her tell everyone’s secrets.” Adrien says, suddenly understanding the entire situation.

“Here go!” Mari says, pulling glasses out of her purse. Adrien takes them with a forced smile and merges Plagg and Kaalki. Though the akuma didn’t appear to be deadly, it was going to be a long battle for just one person. Especially since this akuma was actually good at hiding. He makes the portal and steps through, scoffing at the immediate defensive stances from her brothers.

“I’ve been here before.” He reminds them, letting his transformation fall.

“Who’s the kid?” Jason asks, going back to his breakfast when he deems Adrien not a threat. Adrien grimaces.

“So, yeah about that...um, Plagg will explain.” He says, slipping the ring onto Mari’s finger and taking the earrings. Time to get out of this mess. --- Bruce blinks as Adrien leaves as quickly as he came, no explanation. Only a ring of light. He glances at the little girl and frowns. Based on pictures he’d seen, he’d guess the girl was Marinette. But his daughter was a teenager. Which meant this little girl couldn’t be Marinette. But then who-

“Daddy!” She squeals, finally looking at him with her bright eyes. She runs up to him and raises her arms. He blinks, unsure of what she wants. She huffs. “Up.” She demands. He picks her up, eyebrows furrowed as she squeezes him tightly.

“Marinette?” He asks, still confused. A loud cackling draws his attention to the tiny floating black cat at the other end of the table. Of course.

“Pigtails is gonna freak about this later.” He says with a snort.

“And you are?” Bruce asks, wary of the creature. It was definitely not hostile, Adrien did leave it here. But he was still uncertain of its intentions.

“Plagg. The black ca kwami. Akuma back in Paris hit her and you all are her safe house. If she’s unable to fight as Ladybug, someone is supposed to bring her here. The kid or her, if she can still use a Miraculous.” Plagg explains, glancing around. “Say, you got any cheese?” He adds, and just like that, the kwami is off-supposedly to find cheese in the kitchen.

“So- how does she know you if she’s this little? She’s gotta be like, three.” Dick asks with a frown. “You just met.”

“Cause I’m Batman!” Marinette says, mimicking his voice. Jason snorts.

“Sure Pixie, and I’m Ladybug.” He says, reaching over and ruffling her hair.

“No, I am!” She pouts, crossing her arms. “You can’t be, you’re Red Hood.” She adds. Tim- who had been silently sipping coffee- spits over the entire table.

“Good job Drake. Now breakfast is ruined for everyone.” Damian sneers.

“She knows! But she’s tiny! She shouldn’t-” Tim rants.

“It’s magic, Drake.” Damian says, cutting him off. “I am unsure of what you expect. Now, since breakfast is ruined, I will be taking Titus on a walk.” He adds, standing up and starting to leave. Bruce is barely able to stop Marinette from falling as she leaps from his lap and rushes to Damian.

“Can I come?” She asks with a wide smile. Damian hesitates, glancing at him. Bruce shrugs. “Can I come, please?” Marinette adds, sticking out her lip in a pout.

“Tt. I suppose you can come with.” He says with pursed lips. Marinette squeals, grabbing Damian’s hand and tugging him along. The sound of a camera shutter makes Bruce whirl around to see- of course. Dick had his phone out and was taking picture after picture, a wide smile on his face as the two walked away, Marinette babbling on about how cool superheroes are as they walk.

“Who would’ve thought we’d be able to get pictures of baby Mari with us!” He says cheerfully, looking down at his phone. Bruce stills. He could have pictures with one of his kids, as a baby. He glances over at Tim, trying to figure out a way to ask that wouldn’t be too weird. Was the request too weird?

“Don’t worry, B. Already on it.” Tim says, shaking his phone. “Got several pictures of your little hug situation.” He adds. Bruce nods. Still…

“Everyone in the parlor in five minutes. Make sure Alfred comes too. I’ll go get Damian and Marinette.” Bruce says, standing from the table.

“For what?” Jason asks, visually bristling at the orders. Though their relationship was getting better, it was still rocky. And it likely would be for years.

“A family picture.” Bruce says simply. They’d have to take another when Marinette is herself, but he wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. --- Damian Wayne was many things. A former member of the League of Assassins. The current, (and in his unbiased opinion, best) Robin, an animal lover, a brother and a son. He also enjoyed drawing, occasionally painting too. What he was not, was a babysitter. He did not enjoy small children. They often cried for no reason, talked too much and smelled odd. His sister, luckily, did not smell odd. Nor had she cried. She was, however, babbling incoherently. And smiling. Nonstop. It was odd, but not awful. Looking down at the small girl, he was suddenly struck with the awful memory of her death. Of the sword that- no. She was fine. She may be a toddler now, but she was still fine.

“And then, Chat was a bad guy.” She says as he tunes back into her words. He frowns. That’s odd.

“What do you mean?” He asks, sure he misheard her.

“Chat! His suit turned bad and the moon went boom!” She exclaims, gesturing with her hands to mimic an explosion. Why was there no footage of this?

“That sounds like a very bad dream.” He leads, certain that it was just one of her fears. He knew Marinette struggled with anxiety and doubted herself as a hero. Surely that’s all she was referring to. She shakes her head.

“Nu-uh. Not a dream.” She denies, frowning. He starts to ask for clarification, to try and help, when she squeals and runs forward, wrapping her tiny arms around Titus. Damian sighs. It was useless to attempt to have an actual discussion with her right now anyway. Perhaps later they could revisit the topic.

“Careful, Titus.” Damian says, slightly concerned for how the large dog would react to Marinette. He had never really been around small children before, and while he was nice, some dogs just disliked children. Not that Damian blamed them. Instead of knocking her down or growling at her though, Titus nuzzles into her. Gently pushing her along as they walk around the gardens. Damian feels his lip quirk up in a smile. Pulling his phone out, he takes a quick picture, certain Marinette would like to see it later. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Father walking towards them swiftly.

“Father.” He acknowledges.

“Damian. We’re going to take some pictures together before she turns back.” Father says, glancing at Marinette who was giggling against Titus. She turns and notices the two talking, her smile growing even wider.

“Daddy!” She cheers, running forward and jumping into Father’s arms. Damian quirks an eyebrow at the uncharacteristically large smile on his father’s face. It was odd, but he also knew that his father regretted losing so much time with both him and Marinette. The others it was to be expected, but to not even have that time with his own blood children….

“Did you have fun with Damian, sweetheart?” He asks, and Damian blinks at the surprisingly soft tone. Very odd. He suddenly couldn’t wait for Marinette to turn back. He did not care for the sudden changes in his father.

“Yup! Dami showed me the flowers and the trees and Titus is so silly!” She rambles, nearly whacking Father in the face as she gestures wildly. Damian barely holds back a snort as he watches them.

“I’m so glad you had fun. Can we go inside now, there’s some things we want to do before you go back to Paris.” He explains. Marinette frowns, a pout replacing her large smile.

“I don’t wanna.” She whines, and Damian is shocked to see tears. Actual tears.

“Why don’t you want to go home?” Father asks, and the look on his face makes it obvious. He’s thrown.

“Tired.” She says, laying her head on Father’s shoulder. “Akumas are bad.” She adds.

“We’re going to help Marinette. You won’t be alone anymore. You and Chat Noir will both have help. We’ll figure this out.” Father assures her, holding her.

“Perhaps we could continue this conversation later, Father. You wanted to take pictures and there is no guarantee how long she will be...young.” Damian points out, making a mental note to also bring up the ‘Chat was bad’ scenario later.

“Er, yes. Let’s go. Come on honey, it’s okay. You’re still here.” Father says, turning and walking towards the house, quietly reassuring Marinette until she starts smiling again. While seeing his older sister younger than him was entertaining, Damian much preferred older Marinette. She had a better handle on her emotions. And though he would never admit it to her face, was also much more bearable in conversation. --- Jason was not fond of family pictures. Hell, he wasn’t fond of most things that involved family bonding. He’d been around more since they discovered Marinette, but that was mostly to make sure that Bruce didn’t fuck it up too badly. The kid was the most emotionally available one he had. She could do more than brood. And Jason was not about to let Bruce mess that up by being an asshole. So, sure, he’d been around more. But that didn’t mean he had to be in a family picture.

“I don’t wanna.” He argues, glaring at Dick who was trying to get him to come stand next to him. Dick, Alfred and Replacement were all coming up with poses will B got Demon Spawn and Pixie to come back inside. Jason wanted no part of any of it.

“Master Jason, this is a unique opportunity.” Alfred chastises. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I’ll join when he finds another kid.” He mumbles, trying not to sound too bitter. He wasn’t mad at Marinette, not at all. But being Bruce Wayne’s kid was a fucking recipe for disaster. Three of them had died (and come back). All of them were a vigilante or hero of some sort. None of them had a normal life. So as nice as it could be, being a kid of the Bruce Wayne, it was also a bit of a curse.

“Jay!” Marinette squeals, practically throwing herself from Bruce’s arms as they walk into the room. Jason lunges forward, catching her.

“Shit, Pix, you just about fell.” He swears, eyes wide as she giggles uncontrollably.

“Language.” Dick calls. Jason narrows his eyes, about to argue, when Marinette shifts in his arms. Oh yeah. She’s kind of tiny right now. Probably shouldn’t say anything too bad.

“Daddy says we’re gonna take pictures!” She says, grinning widely. Jason winces. Damnit Bruce.

“Really? Well, I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun.” He says, preparing to put her down so that he can dip out.

“We have to get a picture of just the kids too! Daddy says we’ll take more another day, but we gotta hurry.” She rambles, struggling in his arms to be let down. He sets her down, taken aback by how strong she is as she grabs his hand and tugs him behind the couch. Standing right next to Dick. Of fucking course.

“Pix, I don’t-” He tries to say.

“Nope. Picture time!” She cheers, running back to Bruce. Jason shakes his head. Of fucking course the Pixie was gonna get him to do some stupid shit he didn’t want to do. Of course. --- Alfred glances at the new pictures on the wall as he walks down to the kitchen. It had been a few days since Miss Marinette had left. A few days since he was able to see a genuine smile on Master Bruce’s face. The family had managed to get dozens of pictures and videos on that day, including a picture with himself, Master Bruce and the children. Glancing at the picture of just the children, all laughing and cuddled up on the couch, Alfred smiles. It was nice to have these pictures, pictures with genuine joy on his family’s face. Even if it happened because of a villain attack.

Next

Master list

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

[americancowgirl19]

Eight Year

Summary: You’ve been missing for a long time but now you’re home and Dick isn’t about to let you distance yourself from him.

Warnings: Angst Fluff

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count:

A/n: Act like Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian all grew up under the same roof with you for this one shot. Damian is still the only one that is Bruce’s biological child though.

Masterlist - Part Two (Old Times)

If anyone asked where the best place in the Wayne Manor was, you’d tell them about the rooftop. You had to be extremely balanced and brave (or stupid) to be able to get to the peak. But once you got there, it would be the perfect place to see all of Gotham. If the wind was blowing right and you strained your ears to listen, you could even hear the hustle and bustle of the city despite being so far away. 

But that was when you were growing up. Everything’s different now. The roof was still an amazing place to be but it no longer held the peacefulness you craved as a child. Still, it was better than being in the middle of the family arguments occurring below you. Even then, you can’t completely escape it.

“I figured I’d find you up here,” 

You don’t even have to turn your head to know who was walking across the roof toward you with expert balance. The roof put distance between you and your other brothers except Dick. While they didn’t mind jumping from one building to another with Batman, the roof of Wayne manor was different. You had claimed it as your own and raised hell if anyone bothered you. Anyone other than Dick at least. You always had a soft spot for him.

“Shouldn’t you be in Bludhaven?” You ask, averting your gaze from the skyline of Gotham to the slanted shingles on the roof.

“Well, when you see on the news that Y/n Y/l/n came home for the first time in eight years you make a special trip,” Dick says, sitting in the spot he had claimed 15 years ago.

“You shouldn’t have wasted your time,” You mutter.

“Hey,” He lightly scolds. “You’re not a waste of time,” He tells you, his voice a little softer. You risk a glance at him. He gives you a small smile. You force one in return before looking down as it fades.

“Did I ever... hurt you?” You ask, your jaw clenching the instant the question is out in an attempt to hold yourself together.

“Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself.” Dick states, shaking his head. “Nothing you did was you,”

“But it was, Dick.” You snap, looking at him. “Every kill, every fight, every injury was because of me. I was the one who did that, no one else.”

“Do you even remember what happened?” Dick asks, raising his eyebrows at you. “Remember what they forced you to do?” You hold his gaze before looking down. “It wasn’t you fault,” Dick says slowly trying to emphasize his point. “You didn’t have control over yourself, you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I hate that I can’t remember,” You whisper. “Eight years of my life and nothing. All I remember is going to that party with you,” A small smile came onto your lips. “I convinced you to dance with me,”

“We danced all night,” Dick whispers, a smile of his own on his lips. It only lasts a few seconds before it fades. “I leave you for two minutes and you just... disappear,” You frown your eyebrows not liking the sound of his voice.

“You blame yourself? Dick...” You whisper, your shoulder deflating.

“We look after each other,” He says, looking at you. “It’s what we do. You have my back and I have yours, always. But the one time you actually need me and I’m in the kitchen doing a beer bong.” He growls, glaring at his fidgeting hands.

You push back the tears as your arms wrap around his arm. You hug his bicep and rest your head on his shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath and kisses the top of your head.

“I missed you so goddamn much,” Dick whispers, leaning against you. His head leaning on yours, his nose buried in your hair. Your eyes closed as you focus on him. You ignore the tear falling down your face.

Eight years ago you had been kidnapped by a group that you have no recollection of. They had you under their complete control. Not only did they kidnap you and turn your mind into mush, they experimented on you. They wanted to make you strong enough, powerful enough to be able to take down the Justice League and everyone associated with them.

They succeeded, sort of. While you couldn’t take down the entire Justice League, you were considerably stronger than you had been. They had a serum that changed your DNA. You had the enhancement and strength of Superman, the speed of Flash, and the power of Zatanna.

Bruce had an entire file on you. He had recordings of the experiments you went through that your captors had taken and notes on everything you did. One night when everyone was asleep or out patrolling the city, you looked through the file.

You don’t remember it but you had been the reason behind so many deaths. So many good people, sidekicks and full fledged League members fell by your hand. You didn’t know how you could show your face around anybody knowing what you had done.

You felt touched that your family had spent the last eight years searching for you and trying to find a way to get you back. Even after everything you had done, they never gave up on you. They wanted you back, they wanted to help you become yourself again.

Yes, you’re home now. Yes, you’re in control of your actions now. No, you don’t feel like you’re back to yourself again. Not even close.

Before you were kidnapped, you were the original Batgirl. You and Dick had been trained at the same time. You both took up the mantle as Batman’s sidekick at the same time. You did everything together.

So, when Dick transitioned to Nightwing you hung up your cape to become Nightshade. You both thought it was clever with a side of corny at the time which is the exact reason why you took a name so similar to his. Since you were no longer Batman’s sidekicks, you had free range to become your own persons. 

With Jason as Batman’s new Robin, Gotham was becoming crowded. Dick suggested Bludhaven and you followed him. You were there for three years before you were taken. Your absence happened a month before Jason’s death.

You family had no idea how they survived two tragedies so close to each other. 

Almost a year later a mysterious assassin emerges out of nowhere. It took them a while to figure out that it was you. When your identity was revealed, the decision on what to do with you split the League. 

Half the League wanted to get revenge for what you had done by death or isolation in an inescapable prison off world. The other half wanted to save and rehabilitate you. 

Batman, Nightwing, and Robin (Tim) were strong advocates of saving you. In fact it had been brought up more than once that if anyone tried to kill you or take you off world they would have to personally deal with them, mainly Dick.

Dick had just found out that you were alive, he had hoped that you were but now he knew. Now that he knew you were alive, no matter what you did, he was going to get you back and damn anybody who got in his way.

They knew off the bat that you weren’t in control of your actions thus making you innocent in their eyes. But not everybody believed you to be innocent. But as Dick told anybody who lobbied against you, nobody was killing you or taking you away while he was around.

It wasn’t until Red Hood’s identity was revealed as Jason did they finally have a chance at bringing you home. Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin (Dick), Damian (a couple of months before he would take up the Robin suit), and Superboy all went up against you one night.

This wasn’t the first time Nightwing, Robin and Damian had tried to get you but with Red Hood and Superboy on their side they became victorious. Red Hood gave them that extra person while Superboy was more equipped to handle your speed and strength.

You were taken to the watchtower. You stayed there for a long time and weren’t allowed to socialize until you had control of your mind back. About a week ago you were released to Batman. 

A couple of days ago the media caught word that Bruce Wayne’s long lost daughter has finally returned home which prompted Dick to come back to Gotham.

But while you are home with your family you can’t help but feel like an outsider. Since you’re return you feel as if there’s this wall between you and them. Bruce wasn’t completely sure how to act around you. Tim tried but you just couldn’t connect with him. Even Damian, the all confident biological kid of Bruce Wayne, felt awkward around you despite his relief that you were home. You haven’t seen Jason since you returned home but since your arrival to Gotham has been broadcasted you knew it wouldn’t be long until you two met up.

“I’m glad you’re here,” You whisper, snuggling into him more. 

“Where else would I be?” He mutters. You look up, your eyes meeting his. “My place will always be by your side,” He reassures you.

“Dick... I’m not the same person I was, ok?” You whisper. “I’m still adjusting and-” Dick’s lips meet yours before you can finish. You lean into him, your hand touching the side of his face.

“You’re it for me, pretty girl,” Dick whispers, smiling softly. “You’ve been mine since we were kids and I’m not giving you up just because you’re stronger, faster and weirder than me now,” He winks at you. You smile widely and laugh quietly.

“I thought after eight years-”

“No,” Dick whispers, shaking his head. “It’ll only ever be you, sweetheart. Only you,” You smile, snuggling into him.

“Master Grayson, Ms. Y/l/n,” Alfred hollers from the ground. You both look down. “Dinner is served,”

“Thank you, Alfred,” You replied loud enough for him to hear. Alfred nods and reenters the house. You sigh looking at Dick.

“Come on, you know how Alfred gets if he has to say things twice,” Dick says standing up. You take his hand and he pulls you to him. “You and me, just like it has been since we were 12. That hasn’t changed,” You grin, balancing yourself carefully as you drape your arms around his neck.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly kissing you when we were 12,” Dick smirks, holding your hips.

“Relationships evolve,” He shrugs. You smile, staring into his eyes.

“You make the world quiet, Dick Grayson.” You whisper to him. “You keep my mind straight,”

“You do that yourself... I just remind you to smile and relax very so often,” He tells you.

“I love you,” You whisper, pressing your lips against his.

[redjaybathood]

read on ao3: This Should (not) Have Been a Love Story Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, other Batfam members, WIP, Words: 2,440 Chapters: 1/5, T Bruce Wayne never revealed that he knew Red Hood's real identity to anyone. In fact, he took such great pains to keep others out of the loop that people started to speculate (Dick, mostly, and Barbara, and then all the others — it just made sense at the time). So, when Batman dies, and Gotham City is in chaos, Nightwing decides to use an unlikely ally to fight the good fight. There's no way Red Hood won't agree to help, being in love with Batman as he was.

Dick

Dick found him on the roof of the building, perched beside a gargoyle. If his helmet had ears on top of it, it would have been easy to mistake his shadow for Bruce. He heard Dick, that’s for sure. Dick wasn’t trying for subtle. But he didn’t even change his pose, staring at the distance as the sirens were going off in the distance and something was lit on fire yet again. It seemed like the intelligence Oracle gathered has been right; Red Hood was the only one who did not take the opportunity that Batman’s death provided to carve a bigger piece of the city. He was grieving. A luxury Dick didn’t have time for right now.

What convinced him the most to go through with this mad scheme was the bottle of whiskey he was griping in his hand. The same label Bruce liked. And it didn’t seem like Red Hood was drinking any of that.

Sentimental, Dick thought. I can work with that.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said out loud.

That, and not the simple fact that a vigilante was at his back when he was alone and vulnerable, made Red Hood tense. The man turned his head to the right, still without looking directly at Dick. After a minute, he spoke.

“Shouldn’t it be my words for you?”

Dick shrugged, trying to keep his tone light and not at all bitter.

“The last few years, you have seen more of him than I had.”

“Only because he didn’t want you around this city, around me, and every other scum that plagues it. He wanted you safe.”

Yeah, Dick knew that, on a rational level. But this wasn’t about him and Bruce.

“What he wanted the most,” Dick sat down a little farther away from Red Hood. “Is to keep this city safe.”

“He was good at it, mostly.”

“Two weeks after he died, and it all went belly up.”

“Oh, bird boy, it went to shit immediately, like every second of every day — he just isn’t here to do anything about it. You know what gets me?”

Dick felt Red Hood’s gaze on him for the first time since they started talking. Was he expecting Dick to know the answer? No, apparently he didn’t, because Red Hood continued.

“I wanted, planned to kill him, even. Changed my mind at the last minute, of course, but. When I did want that, I was thinking I would be doing something good, something meaningful. That Gotham would be better without him, I would be better without him.”

“But everything went to shit, and you’re feeling shitty,” Dick nodded. It was surprisingly familiar, what Hood described, and he used that. “I know the feeling. Not wanting to kill him — but sometimes I thought that I would be better off without him.”

“You are, though.”

It was Dick’s turn to look at Red Hood.

“How do you figure?”

“Just saying. I don’t know you, but you look like a normal person.”

Dick felt a tang inside his chest.

“I had my moments.”

“Had them less and less after leaving Bruce, though.”

“Bruce, huh?” Dick’s insides went cold. It’s fine, he told himself. He wasn’t expecting precisely that, but he knew Red Hood and Batman were close. He just… “You know, it took him about seven years before he told Catwoman his name. And he asked for my blessing beforehand.”

Red Hood scoffed.

“It’s not that big of a secret. Harvey Dent knew, Joker knew, League of Assassins, Deathstroke… Oh, and Hush — I am pretty sure he became a supervillain just for him.”

“Same as you, then?” Dick pressed while it was hot. “Batman did say that it was personal between you and him when he deigned to answer any questions about you. Said that he created you, in a way.”

Red Hood reeled.

“I have never heard anything more disgusting in my life,” he said. “No, wait — when Joker claimed to create me. Ugh. No, they did not create me, this city did.”

He went back to swinging his legs off the ledge and staring at the distance. Shit. Dick needed to continue to engage him, when slowly broaching the topic, making it seem like it’s his own idea...

“Why are you here, Nightwing? You aren’t here to arrest me, and you’re sure as hell not here to trade memories about the old man.”

Fuck it, Dick thought. I’m going all in.

“Within these two weeks, since the word got out that Batman died, your gang had significantly diminished its activities.”

“With the Big Bad Bat dead, we gave ourselves a holiday to celebrate, what about it?” Red Hood immediately refuted — and Dick didn’t even insinuate anything yet. “There’s, you know, no rush anymore.”

“Others seem to disagree. The city is drowning in strife and chaos, Hood. I won’t lie to you — I have all hands on deck for this one, everyone who’s been an ally, is here. And we’re still over our heads. I’m tired. I am one hair away from some kind of mental breakdown, and I can’t. I have responsibilities that he left behind. The city and…”

“The kid,” Hood said, and that should have not been as surprising as it was, that he knew about Damian’s existence if he knew Bruce Wayne’s name. “Yeah, it’s really shitty timing for a family reunion. So?”

“So I need help.” There, he said it.

It didn’t go exactly as planned. But the distance Bruce put between them in the last few years might have been not all for the better: his emotional manipulation skills became rusty.

“I’m listening,” Hood gestured with the whiskey bottle. “Not agreeing to anything yet, but I’m listening.”

“When you first came to the city and took over Black Mask’s holdings, it took you a few months. Then you had some kind of showdown between you, Batman, and Joker, and disappeared from Gotham for a bit…”

“I was dead but continue.”

Dick’s curiosity wanted him to dig into that — but not today. He filed it for future use.

“And after that, you have been much more low-profile. You’re based in Crime Alley now…”

“Park Row, please.”

“Park Row. And you seemingly being uninterested in other districts and avenues of profit except drug running, it made other gangs crop up, made some rogues retain the positions they had before Roman Sionis came to power. The situation festered until it blew up, after Batman’s death.”

“You’re not seriously telling me it’s my fault.”

Dick smirked.

“It’s interesting that you’d think that — do you think it’s your fault? But no, I am just saying, you could have taken over the whole city, if you wanted to.”

“Sure,” Hood drawled. “So could you. Or your Big Brother. What are you saying, Nightwing?”

“I think you know.”

“I just want you to say it. Do you want me to, what, take over the crime in Gotham? Like was my plan all along when I returned to the city — the plan Batman stopped? No,” Hood pointed a finger at him when Dick tried to interrupt. “I don’t think you realize. I killed a lot of people. It made tactical sense, at the time. Intimidation goes a long way in Gotham. Bruce knew that already, that’s why Batman existed — he just didn’t want to take that one final step. I don’t blame him — I’ve seen how it plays out, in another universe. Gotham is the safest place on Earth, in that one, and he was fucking miserable. I never wanted that for him. That’s why I was doing it myself, what he couldn’t. So he won’t ever have to. But he didn’t want that — he said I was a coward and looking for an easy way out. And all I ever wanted was to keep my city safe.”

Dick listened to the rant. Hood seemed like he needed to get that off the chest. Maybe, it will make him more susceptible to his offer.

“So what do you want from me, Dickie? Things just got a little too real for you, and you want me to finish what I started? Kill every bastard in this forsaken city? Kill them all and see how it makes no fucking difference because it can’t make any difference because it can’t bring him back?”

“Uh,” Dick said. He knew that if Red Hood was aware of Batman’s identity, his own would be a very quick calculation. It still made him feel strangely naked when Hood called him by his name. “I want you to join the team. But without all the killing, preferably.”

It made Hood, who was gesturing wildly during his little speech, screech to a stop.

He seemed to think about, really think about it. Unfortunately, Dick could see his face, and his body language reading abilities were not on par with Cass, so he didn’t know what exactly Hood’s been thinking.

“Killing is my MO, though,” he said after what seemed like an eternity but was actually two minutes. “If that makes me a coward, psycho, evil, whatever, it doesn’t matter, but I sincerely believe in stopping threats permanently before they can hurt more people.”

That wasn’t a no. Dick moved in for a kill.

“You will get to wear a Batsuit,” he said. “And Batman doesn’t kill, sure. But if you want to track someone down in your free time as Red Hood — well, we all are overworked and overtired, we just can’t be everywhere at once to stop you.”

Hood drew back, and his left hand slipped from where it was clutching the roof. He was fast to regain a more firm position, thankfully.

“What? Why would I — why are you offering me the Batsuit? Are you possessed? Quick, tell me something only Nightwing would know.”

“How would you know something only Nightwing would know?”

“But — you’re his successor.”

Dick scrunched his nose.

“I’m not, actually. And we don’t need a successor right now. We need an illusion that Batman is still alive. And you have the same body shape as him, it’s uncanny. I half expect that under this helmet you’re his clone.”

“Ew,” Hood said. “But really? You want to work with a villain?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we had done it. Two-Face, Catwoman, Luthor, Deathstroke. Me, Batman, Justice League, we all worked with villains sometimes. And, our goals are aligned, aren’t they? You and me, we just want Gotham safe. You are even willing to kill for it. That’s dedication.”

“But you’re not going to let me actually kill anyone,” Hood said. “All that talk about how I can use Batman at nights and Red Hood at days — I need to sleep too, you know. If I’m doing it, Red Hood has to go.”

Well, yes. That was exactly what Dick has been thinking. Though, if Red Hood did slip here and there, it wasn’t the worst what could happen, Dick figured. It all came down to comparison. This, how the city has been doing right now — and how it was only going to be worse when their allies start to get back to their own perches because Dick had no right to ask anyone to put their own lives on hold for his sake… Versus a bargain with Hood that maybe, just maybe can reel them a jackpot.

It would not be the first time when working alongside heroes made a villain change his ways, after all. Especially if Dick could continue using his feelings for Bruce against him.

“That’s your decision,” he said. “Just don’t step over my bottom line, don’t kill anyone in Batman’s suit, don’t kill anyone who could be stopped without it, and we’re all good, basically.”

“Huh.”

“Exactly.”

“But I can kill people who couldn’t be stopped otherwise, right? Like, random example here — Joker?”

“I mean, sure. I killed him once. It didn’t take, and I felt really, really shitty about it… But yeah.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. So you’re in?” Dick got up and offered Red Hood a hand.

“Okay, whatever,” Hood said, clasping it back and getting on his feet. “I reserve the right to go back to murder and mayhem the second I want to.”

“If it’s adding more chaos to Gotham, I reserve the right to stop you. But yeah, it’s a deal.”

After this tentative truce, all that was left was to set up a rendezvous, where Hood could get the suit, meet the team, and participate in the briefing. Oracle was getting the materials ready — they needed to be sure that everyone was on the same page. She also was preparing a schedule for the new Batman. He will not have any time left to be Red Hood, that was for sure.

After they exchanged the details of the next meeting, Dick was ready to go down. Before he reached the roof exit, Hood’s words stopped him.

“You know Batman would have hated it?” Hood said. “Just so we clear. He would never, ever forgive you for this — or me. I think the one thing he would hate more than me in his suit if you went to Joker with this proposal.”

Dick really thought Hood was exaggerating. The small crumbles of information he received from Batman about Red Hood… And it was very, very little, just like the times when he tried to keep things about Talia al Ghul, or Catwoman, from Dick. He could never figure out if Bruce thought he was protecting Dick or them. He liked to think it was the first.

“I don’t think he hated you that much,” he said instead. “But either way, if he didn’t want someone he didn’t like filling in his suit — shouldn’t have died, then.”

Dick got a little more vicious when he thought he had in him. But it was true, in a way. He was pissed at Bruce for putting himself in harm’s way. Yeah, that’s what his whole life was about, being a hero, and that was why Dick loved him so much. But he wished Bruce didn’t do it, that he stayed alive for Dick instead.

Hood nodded, jerkily.

“Makes sense,” he said. “Don’t die if you don’t want to be replaced. That tracks.”

Dick thought Hood understood him, then. That he was as pissed at Bruce as Dick was. So he didn’t put a lot of thought into this and left. Didn’t question the exchange further.

Looking back at things, it always made Dick feel funny, in “ha-ha ouch” kind of way. But that was later.

[wordsfromthesol]

Avengers or Justice League (2/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol​ Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @malfoys-demigod  @pricetagofficial @anousiemay​ Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Word Count: 1.2k

Part One

You woke up several hours later, still in the passenger seat. It had definitely been longer than 2 hours. How were you not in New York yet…Before you could ask, Jason spoke up.

"So…welcome back. It's been a while. A lot has changed."

"I can see that. What happened?"

"Well I met the spider thing. Very helpful, definitely a child. But he said Bats was about 3 hours north of here. In a small town called Croatoa."

"Seriously?"

"I couldn't believe it either. Couldn't even find it on a map…but the kid gave me directions. Should be there in…now." Jason commented as he turned onto a dirt road. You had a feeling this wasn't going to end well.

**

You had been in this weird town for a few hours. All you had done was sit on the roof of the hotel and listen. The conversations…something was just off. You couldn't put your finger on exactly what. You were so zoned out that you didn't even hear Jason come up behind you.

"Something is off here. Right?" His voice broke your trance.

"Definitely." You nodded, reassuring him that he wasn't crazy.

"There's no crime here. At all. In the last 10 years. Not even a speeding ticket."

"Well the town is all dirt roads…" The comment was meant to put your minds at rest. It didn't. "Should we even be staying here? Crime does tend to follow us." Jason's bellowing laugh cut through the tension.

"I've already got us another room. About an hour away. It was the closest town to here." You moved to get up but stopped when you noticed Jason wasn't following you.

"Is there something else?" A look of concern graced your features.

"Why am I here? Good ole Bruce doesn't need me. Never has. I don't fit into the mold of his superhero gang. I shouldn't even be alive. Who thought I was worth saving?" It was as if someone dosed him with a truth serum. All the insecurities he felt began to pour out.

"Honestly…I have no idea why you were saved. Then again, why was I? Why didn’t that blast kill me? Why did Tony create something to save me? And why did Bruce teach me how to control the catastrophic energy inside of me?" Now you couldn't stop. There was something about this place. "We need to leave." You were barely able to muster up the words.

**

You still weren't sure how the two of you made it out of town, but as soon as you did it was like a switch flipped.

"By the way, Bruce's way of doing things…it's not always right. You don't need to fit into his mold." Even though the effects wore off, you still remembered everything Jason had said. Everything you had said. Those fears and uncertainties, you don't think you'd ever actually said them aloud. You could tell Jason hadn't either.

"Do you think he's there?"

"It's a pretty small town, I would've heard him…unless there was some underground bunker…" You turned towards Jason, realizing that that was an actual possibility. The rest of the drive was ridden in silence. Neither of you wanted to talk about the things that were said.

You had no idea where Jason went, but it had been hours. The two of you had to come up with a plan. It didn't take long for you to find him in an alleyway wailing on some drug dealer.

"Hey, Hood." You casually walked up next to him, leaning against the adjacent brick wall. He sent one final punch towards the dealer before turning towards you. "Don't you think we have more important matters?" Jason just stared at you, confused. You scoffed and starting walking back to the hotel, as you reached the end of the alley you called out, "If you want a lecture we'll have to find your dear ole dad."

You weren't surprised to hear Jason's footsteps quickly behind you. "Well do you know where to begin?"

"Kinda…I was thinking. And the power to affect people's minds like that has to be constantly going. Especially since it affected us."

"Yeah but that could be anything. A sound, emitting something into the air, even widescale mind control." You let out a defeated sigh as Jason continued. "I can call Miss Martian. If it's the latter."

"Alright, get her on standby. I'm going to call Tony. Maybe he has something we could use if it's a sound or air thing." You stopped dead in your tracks and turned towards Jason. "I just don't get why they would have Bruce. I get that he is inherently violent…but he still helps people. And they wouldn't need him if there was no crime…"

"I…" Jason started walking again, not wanting to think about the answer. "I'll get Tim on it. Just don't go back there until we know more."

Your eyes widened, "Yeah no, of course not."

**

Once you were sure Jason was asleep, you flew just outside the town limits and began circling the town. There had to be something you missed. It took almost 30 minutes for you to notice the sound. You stopped, hovering about 30 feet in the air, as you focused in on the noise. The next thing you knew you were plummeting to the ground, yet you couldn't stop yourself. It seemed as if Jason was at your side as soon as you hit the ground.

"Y/N! Are you kidding me?!"

Your eyes fluttered open to examine the damage around you. "I thought you were asleep."

"And I called bullshit the moment you said you wouldn't come back here." You didn't protest as he scooped you up and gently placed you in the car.

"It's sound." You mumbled as you fought off the headache.

"Guess I'll have to talk to the tin can again." He rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he watched your face contort in pain. "You okay?"

"Just karma for not listening to the all mighty Jason Todd."

**

A week had passed and it seemed the mission grew stagnant. Tony had developed a device that blocked the sound, which you had already tested, but there were still too many unknowns. Every meeting consisted of hypothesizing different situations and possibilities that could be encountered once everyone was inside.

"Enough already!" You shouted at the arguing heroes. "We could do this for months. It's pointless. We need to go now. Batman may not even be there anymore."

"Oh, uh…he is." Spiderman chimed in.

You furrowed your brow, "How do you know that?"

"I put a tracker on him. It's still there…" As the whole room burst out in laughter, Spiderman just looked around, confused. "What?!" His voice broke through.

"Oh…sweetheart." You began as you regained your composure. "There are three reasons that tracker works. One, he was brainwashed and actually didn't know it was there. Two, he put the tracker on something useless to send you on a wild goose chase. And three, he put the tracker somewhere he wanted you to go."

"Considering the creepy town, I'd rule out the second one." Dick chimed in.

"So do we just split up and find the entrance to the tunnels?" You could tell that Tim was ready to get this mission over, so you started doling out responsibilities.

"Tony starts at the north end, Nightwing and Robin at the east, Red Robin and Spiderman, the west. Red Hood and I will start at the south. We can't go in costume though. It will be too obvious."

"So we must reveal our identities to these inane people?" Damian was not happy with the situation, especially having to work with members of the Avengers.

"Just don’t say your name? We're trying to find Batman, this is more important than your secret identity."

**

You prayed that the sonic dampeners Tony developed would hold for the duration of the mission. You had no idea how long this would take. This situation seemed much more involved than some low level, one-off criminal. It was a demonstration, a practice round.

The town was small enough, so one of the groups had to stumble upon this entrance. The only tricky part was not drawing attention to yourselves. Seven strangers come to town at once…you were hoping whatever brainwashing protocol overlooked this fact. And you were right. No one gave you and Jason a second glance as the two of you strolled down the street. It had been almost an hour before you stumbled upon a potential entrance. As discreetly as possible, you opened the hatch and lowered yourself through the hole.

"So which way do we go?" Jason commented as he followed in suit.

"Left?" You figured you had a 50/50 shot, so you went with your gut. After all, if you went right, you wouldn't be in town for too much longer. "You should probably call the others. Have them rendezvous here, in case we run into trouble."

"Trouble from who? The townies?" You shrugged off his condescending tone. The two of you had been walking for a few minutes when you started to hear footsteps. People were running towards you.

"Uh, Jason…we need to move." Jason didn't bother to argue, as the urgency was pasted over your face. The two of you raced down the corridor until you saw something. "STOP! There's a room. There." You pointed towards the concrete block to your right.

"And does this room have a door?" You could tell by his tone, Jason wasn't afraid to make one. Your eyes scanned around the area until you found it. Not bothering to answer his question, you rushed towards the opening.

"And it's locked."

"Not for long," Jason smirked as knelt down to work on the lock. It was opened in seconds. Your eyes searched around the room in awe. There was video and audio of the entire city. Even inside people's homes.

"How do we --" Your question was interrupted by a loud banging against the door. "Just subdue, don't maim or murder." The comment was a reminder to both yourself and Jason. These were innocent unsuspecting townspeople, not criminals.

"Didn't need to be said!" You shoot a glare his way, to which he responds with a shrug of the shoulders. Just as the two of you braced for a fight, the banging stopped. Seconds later, Tim swung open the door.

"In a bit of a bind?"

"Does it look like we know how to operate this?" You pointed towards the various machines behind you. Tim nodded and got to work.

**

"So, no evil mastermind or Batman." You had convinced Jason to come back to the hotel with you and let the rest of them deal with the groggy and confused townspeople.

"Guess not."

"There's probably going to be more towns like this. You'll have to keep an eye out…"

"Oh. So you're leaving Earth then?" Jason's chest sank at the thought.

"Is there a reason I should stay?" You knew the answer, but you wanted him to say it. You wanted to make sure you weren't imagining everything.

"I can probably think of a few…"

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 33

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Updating today instead of tomorrow so I can spend the whole day on the work I procrastinated :/

~~~

How did she end up staying at Wayne Manor for a week and a half? Deception. She’d never felt more betrayed than she did in that moment. And to think, she and Tim had been friends. 

She’d rolled her eyes when Wayne Manor came into view.

“I can go home, you know.”

“Says the person who got kidnapped on her way there,” responded Tim with a sigh. He paused at the gate as they waited for it to open. “Besides, your ankle’s messed up. You shouldn’t be walking.”

She groaned and tipped her head back against his arm so she could glare at him. “I’m fine.”

He had looked away for a moment, using the gate opening as an excuse, then he started walking. After a while, he hesitantly looked at her. “But I’m not! You got hurt because of me. Please, just... let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Her face burned. “Fine. I’ll stay until Halloween. Happy?”

He seemed to consider this, then shook his head. “But, bean, that’s tomorrow! At least stay here for proper treatment, then you can go.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I could get proper treatment without you.”

He had only sighed in response.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay until I’m healed.”

“Really?” He asked, his face full of hope.

She nodded.

And then, much to her horror, a smug smile stretched across his face. “No take backs! Sucker!”

Truly horrible. She’d never trust again.

~

Still, she'd be lying if she said she didn’t have a good time.

After ‘convincing’ (begging) them to go to her apartment and get her supplies she’d started working on the outfits for the steadily approaching Gala. She’d intended to do most of her embroidery while she was there, because it was calming and repetitive and she’d be able to relax with Tim... but then Dick had seen what she was doing and had nerded out with her about outfits and design. It turned out one person in their family did have a little bit of style, and she was ecstatic. Now she lazed on his way-too-comfortable bed and worked while babbling on about her designs. And he actually understood what she was saying. It was great.

And, when she wasn’t designing, she’d often be found drinking coffee with Tim (the Waynes had bought another machine for her after the first day’s... ‘incident’). They would lean against each other and drink in comfortable silence, which is exactly what everyone wants in the early morning. Who cares if it was three in the afternoon? With their sleep schedules it was practically like being awake at five in the morning anyways.

At other times she and Jason could be found together. This was less fun, because he was the one most pressed about her ankle. While everyone knew that her foot would probably be fine in a week’s time, he was the one to practically carry her everywhere like a damsel in distress. He’d learned to stop when she kicked him in the shin (with her bad leg, it was not a good time for either of them), but he was still extremely worried for her and not at all concerned with hiding it. Still, he made it up to her by sneaking her extra coffees (Dick had set a limit when he’d seen the way Tim and her binge-drank when with each other).

The only bad part was...

Her and Damian locked eyes across the table and they sent each other a glare. She didn’t even know why his presence irritated her to no end, didn’t know why her veins buzzed whenever he got too close; she only knew that she didn’t like it.

She didn’t act on it that much, surprisingly. She had no real reason to be angry with him, the slight rudeness he’d presented the day they’d met was perfectly justified. Marinette settled for the occasional snide comment at the table.

This only seemed to upset him more and more as time went on.

Finally, when her leg was healed (Jason had managed to convince her to stay an extra day to be sure), he’d grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away from Tim before either of them could really react.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed as he pulled her along, struggling to not spill her coffee due to their brisk pace.

He dragged her into the dojo and crossed his arms over his chest. “Me? You’re the one who’s been rude the whole time you’ve been staying here!”

She couldn’t respond. He had a bit of a point. She settled for sending him a glare over the rim of her cup.

“What do you have against me?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Maybe I just don’t like people.”

“You made friends with the Rogues!”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. She lowered her drink slightly. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” she corrected herself.

Damian scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever. You don’t want to answer? Fine. Fight me.”

Marinette felt like she had whiplash. He’d gone from being annoyed that she wasn’t being nice to him to wanting to fight in approximately half a second. Still, she had to admit, fighting him would probably be nice. Not only did she miss the adrenaline of a fight, but a tiny part of her hoped that her anger would dissipate if she gave him a punch or two.

She set down her drink. “Sure. Whatever.”

He looked a bit smug. They walked along the walls and pulled off equipment that they deemed necessary. Basically they both pulled on some grappling gloves and she added an ankle brace to make sure she didn’t instantly mess up her leg again.

After a few minutes of stretching they squared up to each other on the mat.

She grinned and raised her hands to her face. She didn’t actually know how good he was, but she wasn’t all that intent on going easy on him. They had a dojo, he had to have some kind of fighting expertise, that only made --.

Marinette was pulled from her thoughts as a punch came at her face. She dodged with ease and backed up a few steps, raising her guard properly. All she needed was to take her time to learn his fighting style.

She smiled as she dodged his attacks. He was getting angrier, sloppier, with every miss. His style was getting more and more obvious. Just a few more attacks and she would be completely sure --.

His fist came for her throat.

She had to do a backflip to avoid the blow.

His eyes widened.

She cursed mentally. She’d given up her one possible advantage: the high chances of him underestimating her.

Her element of surprise gone, she forced herself to go on the offense. She threw a short jab at him and raised her eyebrows at the almost practiced nature of his block, like he’d done this exact motion a million times.

Her lips twitched. Amateurs are usually the ones who choreograph their moves like that --.

Realization struck her just as his fist did, sending her back a few steps.

Her body moved on autopilot, sending a kick at his chest to get him away so she could recover. His hand locked on her foot and one of his legs swept hers out from under her. A curse slipped from between her lips as her back hit the mat, but it was nothing compared to her reaction when he dropped a bit of weight on the leg he held. Pain pulled a strangled sob from her throat and she thought her leg would shatter.

Her hand slammed the ground twice.

Damian stopped instantly at the motion a worried expression flickering across his features. Red Hood wasn’t lying, the reaction had been instantaneous in both of them. They’d both been drilled, both had the same cues. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

And, unfortunately, Damian wasn’t completely stupid. She saw confusion find its way across his face. And then shock. Denial. Understanding. Anger. And then acceptance.

He dropped onto the mat beside her and covered his face with his hands. “You’re Ladybug.”

“And you’re Robin,” she agreed, pulling her still throbbing leg to her chest. “You suck with and without the outfit. It makes sense,” she muttered.

And, sadly, it really did make sense. The buzzing under her skin she’d interpreted as anger was just the cat miraculous calling out to her, to its guardian, waving its arms and screaming at her to just let him use it. And, now that she thought about it, it could only have been him. She’d probably recognized the feeling she had around Damian as the one she had around Robin subconsciously and transferred that anger onto him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she warned.

He scoffed. “Why would I hide it? They already suspect you. Besides, it’s not like the rest of my family would care, they love you with and without the costume.”

She sat up and sent him a glare. “It’s not about that. I keep my identity secret because I want to. It’s my privacy, my secret, and you don’t get to a choice in this.”

Damian -- no, Robin -- no -- He opened his fingers to peek at her serious face and she caught an eye roll.

“And, if you don’t...” She added, her voice sickly sweet. “I’m sure your family would love to know exactly how I found out who you all were.”

It was a guess, really. She assumed that, because they were pretty open about being family as vigilantes, they all had to be in on it when they told someone about their identities. But it was still a guess. She gave him her most confident look so he wouldn’t think she was bluffing.

His eyes narrowed and he sat up as well. She scrutinized his face; she looked for fear or annoyance or something, but he’d managed to put together a perfect mask.

And then...

He sighed and stuck his hand out. “Fine. I don’t tell them anything, you don’t tell them anything. Deal?”

They shook on it.

“Deal.”

~

She spent the next three days (because Jason had thrown a fit when he’d realized she had messed up her ankle more) observing the family. It would be beneficial to learn which bat corresponded to which Wayne, it made it easier to keep her lies consistent.

She could go off of ages, of course. It was the easy way to guess, but she’d never been one to take the easy way.

Besides, the ‘hard way’ wasn’t actually all that hard.

Bruce Wayne was a reclusive billionaire known to adopt kids faster than they could say ‘hi’. Batman was a reclusive billionaire known to take vigilantes under his wing just as quickly.

Dick Grayson-Wayne was an ex-acrobat who was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person. Nightwing incorporated acrobat-like flexibility and technique in fighting and was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person.

Jason Todd-Wayne was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to joke about committing murder. Red Hood was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to actually commit murder.

Timothy Drake-Wayne was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to become CEO of a company at a young age. Red Robin was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to figure out Batman and Robin’s identities at a young age.

Honestly, she felt like banging her head on a wall for not realizing it sooner. Sure, she’d suspected it, but she’d been so determined for ‘proper’ proof that she didn’t realize that there was some pretty good proof right in front of her.

Well, at least she’d figured it out at some point, she supposed.

~

She sent Jason a glare as she scooped some coffee pods into her bag. “I am fine.”

“But --.”

“I am fine.”

He huffed. “You’re still limping.”

“I. Am. Fine.”

He opened his mouth one last time, but was cut off by Tim pushing past him to wrap her in a hug. “Beeeeaaaaan, please let me --.”

She rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to push him off, only detaching an arm so she could drink from her mug. “Not working a second time.”

He groaned and buried his face in her hair. She sighed and glanced at Jason. “Help.”

“Only if you promise to stay a bit longer,” he said without missing a beat, his lips curved into a Cheshire grin.

Marinette sent him a look before leaning into Tim. “You’re all allowed to come to my house at any point.”

“Yeah, but your house is boring,” complained Dick.

She threw a cup of coffee creamer at him and he dodged it without even sparing it a glance.

“It’s true, bean, it’s pretty empty in there.”

Marinette laughed quietly. “Fine. If you guys don’t like it then you’re not allowed back.”

Jason gasped and joined the hug. “How dare you?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to trap me here?”

“Whaaaaat? Us? No,” said Dick as he, too, walked over and wrapped his arms around her.

Marinette decided she’d give them a few minutes. She could still reach her coffee, and that’s all that really mattered.

At least, until she saw Damian in the hallway. Her shoulders tensed slightly at the sight of him. Ever since their agreement they’d come to a kind of truce. After all, if they really wanted they could spill the secret. Sure, there was incentive to keep quiet, but if one of their tempers got the better of them...

“Help?” She tried.

He looked away and continued walking, leaving her to suffer.

She sighed and went to work prying arms off of her. There was a lot of whining, but none of them resisted.

Outside of Tim.

Dick broke into a grin and pulled Jason out, yelling that they were going to help pack her stuff over his shoulder. She didn’t believe that was quite it. For some reason.

“Tim,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Come back for Thanksgiving?” He asked.

She blinked. A little over a month beforehand he’d been desperate to keep her away from this place. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Fine. I’ll stay for Thanksgiving. But only if you let go.”

“Fine.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows when he didn’t let go immediately.

“Um...?”

He smirked. “I said I’d let go, I never said when.”

She groaned and pushed him off. This time he let her. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“Mmm,” she said, determined to not say yes or no.

He didn’t seem to notice, giving her a wide grin. “Right, ready to go?”

She smiled. “Yep!”

~~~

Taglist

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<3

[peppersonironi]

How I Picture a Batfam Age Reversal

I’m going to write this as a fic (And I want to go on into a young justice world where dick forms the team and his siblings are protective) but here is the outline in bullet points in case anyone is interested. Please note this is VERY first draft.

Ages (At end) & Order:

Damian- 24

Duke- 21

Stephanie- 20

Tim- 21

Cassandra- 19

Jason- 19

Barbara- 15

Dick- 13

Damian is Ten when he is sent to live w/ his father. Bruce is 30.

They don’t really work well together at first. But Selina, Alfred, and Clark somehow get it through Bruce’s thick skull that he has to care for this child.

Damian keeps sneaking out on patrol, against B’s wishes. Eventually, he let’s Damian join and tells him to choose a name (Not what we meant, Bruce!)

Damian wants to go for something like Shadow, or Demon, but Bruce puts his foot down. He says that Damian shouldn’t try to be darkness.

Damian is pouting in the gardens when he finds a wounded robin. It’s wing is broken. He demands that the animal should be taken to a shelter, and carries it in his hand the whole way there.

The bird makes it, and Damian demands to be called Robin. He designs his suit, going slightly more colorful. “I might be called Robin, but I am NOT wearing brown, Pennyworth.”

Bruce introduces him to Superboy (Jon, note: less age dif) and the pair are close friends.

He is Robin for a little over seven years before he begins to fight with Bruce about being allowed to patrol alone, and being his own hero. (basically what happened w/ Dick).

Damian leaves Gotham, opting to claim Bludhaven. Jon joins him. He suggests they call each other Nightwing and Flamebird. Damian thinks it’s a bit childish, but he can’t say no to Jon. They’re costumes are here. (done by @hyperactive-lectiophile! Fantastic job!)

They eventually realize they’re in love w/ each other, all while trying to figure their lives  out. Damian briefly tries to join the police. He hates it. Eventually, he enrolls in BH college for a major in Art and a minor in business.

Later in Gotham, the We Are Robin/Robin War stuff happens. Long story short, Duke is adopted. 

Damian is angry to find out he has a new brother, goes to Gotham to yell at Bruce, but then meets Duke. They bond, and are close siblings. Damian makes his father promise to not adopt any more strays.

Stephanie Brown wants to stop her Father, so she sews up a costume and goes out as Batgirl. Bruce is apprehensive at first, but his family basically yells at him to train the poor girl before she gets hurt.

He does, and after Steph meets Damian, who she absolutely adores (He loves her too. The way she pisses his father off is legendary), Stephanie decides she wants to be Robin. Batgirl was good for dealing with her father, but she wants to belong to this new family, and, w/ Damian’s blessing, she makes a new costume.

Unfortunately, after a while, Stephanie is killed by Black Mask (her death is faked, like in the comics, but the Fam doesn’t know)

Enter Tim Drake. Batman has been going crazy over grief, and not even Nightwing, Catwoman (this is SOOOO batcat, btw) or The Signal can calm him down. Tim steps right up, and demands to be robin.

Damian and Bruce fight over this. Surprisingly, Damian is the one who thinks Tim should be given a chance. He sees how his father has been acting. Damian knows that Tim must be brilliant to figure out their identities, and thinks that should count for something. Duke takes his side, knowing that it takes guts to talk to batman, and be willing to join him. Bruce, meanwhile, is a constant chant of “no more dead robins”. After a while, and lots of arguing, Tim takes his place as Robin. They redesign the suit, and he takes his place as robin.

It’s little while after this that Stephanie comes back. Tim offers Robin back, but Stephanie declines. They talk and grow closer. At one point they talk about Stephanie’s new moniker. She says she doesn’t want to be Batgirl either. She wants something new. Tim suggests Spoiler (Bad pun turned brilliant idea?).

Cassandra Cain arrives on the scene next. She saves the commissioner’s life (like No Man’s Land, minus No Man’s Land), and Stephanie immediately imprints on this tiny assassin child (So do the rest of the family, but Steph claims the fourteen-year old first. She and Bruce fight over custody.). She offers Cass Batgirl. Gotham gained a new vigilante, and Bruce Wayne adopted a new child. (Faster than the comics, I KNOW. But Cass deserves happiness)

Everyone loves their new sister, and everyone spoils her. Duke is the one to take her to a ballet the first time. She immediately begs to be put into lessons.

Somewhere in here Tim’s mom dies and his dad is in a coma. Bruce takes him in.

Eventually, Bruce decides to offer Tim Red Robin, hoping to avoid the strife he had with Damian. (Like in the comics, Bruce was going to give Jason Red Robin)

Tim is unsure of this, and puts off deciding. Then little Jason Peter Todd decides to jack the tires of the batmobile and is immediately taken in.

Everyone is captivated by the tiniest addition to their family, but it's also at this time that Jack Drake finds out about Robin and forces Tim to quit. Tim gives Jason his blessing to become Robin.

Everyone pitches in on helping train the newest Robin. Damian teaches the kid things he learned from the league (non-lethal things, since Damian loves this kid), Duke teaches him escrima fighting, Stephanie (Much to Bruce’s dismay) has a full seminar of the delicacies of glitter bomb making. Tim teaches the kid hacking, when he can get away from his dad. 

Unfortunately, when Jason has been Robin for almost a year, he is killed by the Joker.

The family is torn apart by greif. But this time around, Bruce has a much larger support system. All of them lean on each other.

The only time that Damian ever broke his no-kill rule while living with his father was to kill the Joker. He hunted and murdered the clown, sparing Harley. He had been friends with Quinzel since he was Robin, and knew how the Joker treated her. Harley became the batfam’s honorary aunt after this.

Bruce was too emotionally tired to fight with Damian over his actions, so no one said anything. Eventually, Bruce and Damian did argue. Damian refused to apologize,, though he did promise his father to never kill again. Their relationship was strained for a while, but they worked through it.

Less than a year later, Jack Drake dies, and Tim comes back onto the vigilante scene. He refuses to become Robin, however, choosing to take Bruce up on his offer and become Red Robin. He designs his own suit, and the world seems to slowly become normal. Or some semblance of it.

One night, the circus is in town and the whole family (except Alfred) is home. Duke, Tim, and Steph drag Bruce, Cass, and Damian to go see it.

It is on this night that Dick Grayson’s parents fall to their death. Dick is sent to live in juvi, meanwhile Bruce tries to adopt Dick. He succeeds, and the manor once again has a bright young child running through it’s halls.

Dick figures out the secret identities of his family and instantly demands to be allowed out. He wants to take down Zucko, and won’t settle for every single member hunting for him. Dick wants to take down his parent’s murdered himself. He tries to sneak out multiple times, but is always stopped.

Damian talks to Dick (They are extremely close) and explains the origins of Robin. He says that the mantle was born out of a want to distance himself from the revenge and violence of the league. Dick cries when he learns this and says that his own parents used to call him Robin. He suggests that the mantle is more than a personal need. Robin is Family.

Damian almost immediately demands that Dick be trained and help catch Zucko. Bruce is confused, as before, Damian was strongly against letting a nine-year-old fight crime. Damian explains (after much cajoling. He might be more emotionally open and healthy than when he first arrived in the manor, but the kid is still constipated) what Dick had said, and that Damian understands the kid’s need for direction. “When I first came here, I needed Robin. I might not have known it, but I did. Richard needs Robin now, as well.”

The family took sides on the issue, but eventually Dick (with the aid of his puppy-dog-eyes™) won everyone over. He got his own Robin costume, and they caught Zucko.

Dick refused to stop being Robin, and so Gotham gained a new bird.

Dick was Robin for almost two years when The Red Hood made his appearance in Gotham. No one knew what he wanted, as he didn’t seem to do much beyond killing criminals. They thought he was a vigilante at first, but then he began to take over the criminal underbelly of Gotham, regulating crime. On top of that, Red Hood targeted Robin. Attacking the boy wonder when no one else was around. After the red helmeted rogue let loose a few hints about the league of shadows, Damian interrogated his mother, who explained the identity of The Red Hood, and how she had set him on Gotham.

As soon as the family figured out the newcomer’s identity, and the reason he was alive Damian tracked him down. He knew how to deal with pit rage from his childhood, and brought the lost bird back to the nest.

The family was whole for the first time in years. Jason was still angry and resentful, but he had his family back. Jason was grateful for Damian taking revenge for him, and they were once again close. 

Slowly, Jason let everyone back in, including Bruce. Dick is wary at first of this new older brother, but the little chicken nugget quickly warms up to Jason, and even convinces him to teach him how to shoot a gun (In secret, of course, Dami and Bruce would blow a gasket). Jason couldn’t resist the kid. It was physically impossible.

A year later, Cass decides to pursue dance as her career. She gets a job with the Hong Kong Ballet company. She moves there, and decides to take a new moniker: Black Bat. Her family is so proud of her, but they miss her dearly. Duke visits often, bringing new back to the family.

The absence of Batgirl is filled after a while by Barbara Gordan. She makes her own costume and starts going out. Once again, Stephanie Brown adopts a smol bean (Well, not legally. The commissioner is still alive) and outfits her with a more Gotham-friendly suit and weaponry (I.e. heavy kevlar and leather)

Babs is taken whole-heartedly into the fold, and is made an honorary sister.

[jinmukangwrites]

Vulnerable

Batfamweek2020 Day 6 / Fluff / @official-batfam-week​

Summary: Jason finds a little intruder in one of his safe houses. He tries to convince himself he doesn’t care until he finds out he really, really cares. 

Yeah I know this is two days late. Listen, time is relative and the week isn’t over until I say it’s over. Also yes, the prompt is fluff and this seems to be mostly angst, but there’s cuddles at the end which is about as fluffy as you guys can get out of me.

AO3

-o-o-o-o-

When Jason entered his safe house, he honestly wasn’t expecting anything to be amiss or out of place, yet here he is, walking up to the run down apartment squished between some Chinese takeout shop and a weird voodoo shop just to see the front door slightly ajar.

On instant high alert, Jason grabs at the gun on his hip and considers digging out a domino mask to hide his identity. He’s in street clothes, a civilian if you will. He’s just gotten back from grocery shopping to fill up his various houses with a resupply of food storage. He’s not really in the mood to fight anyone, and for all he knows whoever is inside his safe house could just be a squatter.

Though, no typical squatter can bypass his security measures. Whoever is here is competent enough to discharge his surplus of alarms and boobytraps.

And besides, whoever went through the trouble of breaking and entering into his safe house wouldn’t be there for Red Hood. They’re here for Jason.

He slowly places his bags of canned goods and such onto the ground and pulls his gun out so it’s held out in front of him. He stalks towards the door and takes a calming breath, not wanting to think about who could possibly be in there but also thinking of the worst case scenario.

Maybe just a smart squatter. Could be the Joker. Maybe Bruce. Jason doesn’t if Bruce falls in the good or bad category, but Jason swears to god if he barges in there and it’s just that stupid bastard Jason will categorize him as the absolute worst and might just shoot the jerk-face anyway.

Jason kicks the door open hard enough to make it’s hinges squeal in protest. His gaze instantly locks on a figure sitting on his moth eaten sofa he placed in front of a display TV that he took from the local Walmart.

What? It was “broken” and they were going to throw it away even though he could easily fix it. No harm no foul.

The figure on his sofa looks up from a phone in their hands with a glare, and Jason lowers his gun with a scoff and returns the narrowed eyes with his own.

“What the heck are you doing here, tater-tot?” He demands.

“Tt,” Damian rolls his eyes and returns to his phone, Jason leans his head forward a little to see what the brat is doing on it and it looks to be... that Animal Crossing app. Huh. “It’s none of your business, Todd.”

Jason scoffs, putting his gun back in his holster. “This is my safe house, to which the door you left open. It’s every ounce of my business.”

“Fine,” Damian snarls, standing up abruptly and shoving his phone inside his jacket pocket. “I’ll leave then.”

Jason has to fight to not make any of his utter bafflement physical as he makes a grab for the kid’s arm before he can retreat through the door. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not leaving until I get a straight answer out of ya-“

Damian jerks his arm violently and Jason just manages to keep a grasp on him. “Unhand me, you imbecile!”

“Ah, nah,” Jason retorts, grabbing his other arm as Damian goes to throw a punch. Damian squirms and Jason fights off a sigh as he has to kneel down and hold the brat in an almost white knuckled grasp so he doesn’t escape. He really hopes no one steals his groceries while it’s just sitting out there ripe for the taking. “You broke into my house, you can leave and go throw a tantrum somewhere else after this, I could seriously care less, but if I have to tie you to a chair and play Justin Bieber until you talk I will.”

Damian shoots Jason a look of pure loathing before he glares at his shoes, no longer struggling but still looking like he’ll dart for the nearest exit the moment Jason lowers his guard. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have come here. Let me go.” A second. Then a small: “Please.”

“Okay,” Jason says, and if he didn’t have both his hands keeping Damian still, he would be rubbing the bridge of his nose. Where’s the golden boy when you need him? “Okay, something is clearly up with you. What’s up? Did Titus poo on your bed? Break an expensive pot? Accidentally kill someone-?”

“I don’t kill,” Damian snarls suddenly, and the ferocity of the statement has Jason blinking in shock. Damian is refusing to look up now, eyes blinking quicker than normal. “I don’t. Not anymore. I don’t.”

Jason narrows his eyes and gets down on his knees to become level with the little midget. “Kid. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Damian sniffs, uses his shoulders to rub at his eyes, and there’s a suspicious glint in his green irises that has Jason suddenly feel a rush of panic. Oh heck nah. This is Goldilocks’ problem. Jason should have just let the kid go. Yeah, he asked what was bothering him but the last thing he expected were tears. However, Damian looks just as shocked with himself as Jason is and quickly bites his lip.

“Can I stay the night?” Damian asks suddenly, throwing another red flag up in Jason’s mind. Whatever is going on, Damian doesn’t want to go home where his daddy-dearest and perfect oldest brother are probably waiting for him in a panic. He know’s Dickhead is in town. He posted a picture of Alfred the Cat on his Instagram just a few hours ago, saying it felt good to be home.

Jason is almost tempted to grab the brat and stuff him a duffel, lock the zippers with a cable tie and drop him at the front gates for Alfred to find, just so he doesn’t have to deal with this, but then he studies the kid for a moment, seeing a vulnerability in him that he can’t say he’s ever seen before. He sighs.

“Fine. Don’t explain. Go to the couch and play your cute game thing. I’ll be back.”

Damian gives him an unimpressed glare. “It’s not a cute game.”

“I know what Animal Crossing is, sweetie-pie,” Jason says back, ruffling the younger’s hair and biting back a chuckle that tries to escape his throat as Damian tries to whack at his hand. “It’s a cute game.”

Jason watches Damian retreat back to the sofa, but this time the brat puts in some earbuds and curls up between the arm and the back of the couch, bringing his knees to his chest and his hoodie over his head. Jason has to gather all his will power to not roll his eyes as he stands up and goes out to grab his—thankfully untouched—groceries.

He walks in and begins to take everything out of the bags. He watches Damian out of the corner of his eyes as he does so, but the brat doesn’t move. Just flicks his finger over the screen, perhaps trying to catch a fish or something. He doesn’t dwell on it though, thinking about the tears that had threatened to fall a moment ago. They could have been a trick, a way for Damian to get Jason off his back because it would undoubtedly make Jason too uncomfortable to push more, but at the same time he knows Damian is awful at fake crying. He has a lot of pride stuffed in that little body.

He shakes his head and begins to sort the cans for storage, leaving a few out for dinner he guesses. He was planning on just going to the Batburger—because the Chinese restaurant next door gave him a night in the bathroom to remember the last time he ate there—and grabbing something filled with carbs, but now that the little bat-brat is here that’s sort of thrown out the window. He’s still hungry though.

Lets see, he has a can of sloppy joe, some buns in the pantry that are hopefully not moldy yet, and some mixed vegetables. Easy.

He begins to pull out various pots and pans to begin the last second dinner. It doesn’t take long for the meat to start sizzling while the vegetables just barely begin to warm. He sets a pan lid over the meat and lets it simmer as he goes to grab the buns and some American cheese slices. He eyes Damian as he does so, noting how the kid hasn’t moved since Jason had told him he could stay.

Whatever. It’s not his problem. He’s not worried about the tyke at all...

When everything is finally heated and warm it suddenly occurs to him that Dick has mentioned here and there that Damian was actually vegetarian. Jason curses and opens the fridge, looking for anything that’s leafy and green. Thankfully, he manages to scrape together a sad amount of green lettuce and half a tomato. He sniffs a bottle of ranch and looks at it’s expiration date and wrinkles his nose. He’ll let Damian choose if he wants ranch or not. He grabs two plastic plates and places his own Joe with cheese down on one plate and scoops out a helping of corn, peas, and carrots while he makes a terribly depressed salad on the other. He sighs and adds double the helping of vegetables onto Damain’s plate. If only he had shredded cheese or croutons or even garbanzo beans...

He plops himself down next to the kid and clears his throat, placing Damian’s sad sad meal down on the coffee table with his bottle of devious ranch and then digs into his sloppy joe, grabbing a remote to turn on the TV to something probably boring and dumb.

He watches as Damian wrinkles his nose slightly at his meal, and Jason almost prepares himself to snap that he did his best, but Damian surprises him and takes the plate into his lap. He takes out his earbuds and clicks his phone off, shifting so he can see the TV better.

Thankfully Jason manages to find a channel that’s replaying Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire so the silence between the two of them isn’t as awkward as it could be. Damian picks at his browning salad and makes a move to communicate.

They watch the movie in silence, and Jason finds himself not being able to actually concentrate as his mind keeps wondering what could be up with Damian.

-o-o-o-o-

“Alrighty,” Jason says, clapping his hands together as the movie credits begin to roll. “Goodnight.”

Damian doesn’t say anything as Jason gets up and gathers the paper plates to throw them away. Jason is determined to just go to bed and not deal with any of this in the morning. Sure, he should go out as Hood and take down some gangs, but Damian doesn’t appear to have his costume—let alone a change of clothes—with him and there’s no way Jason is leaving him here alone.

He should just call Dick. Call him and he’d gladly drop everything he’s doing to take the kid away. However, he can’t help but feel a sense of unity when he notices Damain’s phone ding with a little text notification and Damian quickly sliding it away, not even reading it.

Besides, Jason said he could stay the night. What kind of person would he be if he couldn’t make good on his word? He’s an ex-killer not a complete jackass.

He retreats to his room, releasing a sigh and shutting the door. It’s a small house, nothing but a living room, kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom. Damian will have to sleep on the couch because there’s no way Jason is letting him take his bed. He takes off his shirt and changes into a pair of looser fitting pants as he crawls into the rickety old bed that was discounted at IKEA because someone broke some pieces. The blankets he slips into are thin but many. Well, three. It’s decent enough, he can survive most cold nights with the warmth three thin, threadbare blankets could scrap up.

He closes his eyes, thinking about nothing other than sleep.

He wonders if he has a blanket out there for-

Woah wait. Hold up. Nooope. Go to bed Jason. Go to bed...

Sleep...

It’s a colder night and the living room gets colder than the bedroom...

But it’s warm in his blankets so he won’t worry about it... sleep... sleep sleep sleep...

He peeks his eye open and looks at his phone sitting on the mattress beside his head.

Not even fifteen minutes has passed. He growls and forces his eyes closed, curling his knees so they’re almost touching his chest. Did he lock the door? He’s pretty sure he locked the door. Though, if he didn’t that would mean someone could barge in and the first thing they’d see was a small kid in his day clothes shivering in the cold of the living room with no pillow.

No, he definitely locked the door. He definitely locked it just like how he definitely doesn’t care if a certain demon brat is crashing on his couch in day old clothes with no pillow or blanket.

He opens his eyes, looks at how only a minute has passed and silently curses to himself.

Shit.

He cares.

He throws the blankets off from his body and slips off the side of his bed to his feet. He looks around his room and grabs at one out of two pillows he was using and then tears off one out of three blankets and stomps towards his door, just to stop and growl as he turns around and finds the smallest shirt and sweats he could find.

He barges into the living room and Damian practically jumps from his curled up position on the couch. Jason ignores the subject of his lack of sleep as he goes to the door, grabs the handle, and giggles it to make sure it’s locked.

It’s locked.

He turns heel and Damian is watching him as if he’s grown a second head. Jason ignores the stare and dumps the pile of fabric in his arms onto the kid. Damian squawks but Jason ignores that and storms back to his room, trying to ignore the goosebumps on his arms and chest from the cold of the room and how he’s making a thirteen year old kid sleep out here and- NOPE! He’s not worried about it. He gave him a blanket and pillow and even some of his own clothes. Damian will survive and Jason will sleep.

He hits his pillow, trying not to mourn the girth he’s lost beneath his head because he’s too nice of a guy sometimes, and curls up in his two blankets, fighting off the threat of shivers from going out into the chilly air. He eventually warms up, just like actual sleep begins to lure him, and soon he’s not thinking about much of anything...

...

Was that a sniffle?

His eyes creek open against his will. Time has felt like it moved, and when he glares at his phone to see two hours has passed he curses the gods for making this night as difficult as possible. He’s about to close his eyes again when the something that woke him up that he had almost forgot about sounds again.

A sniff. From the other side of the door. It sounds wet, like it belongs to a runny nose and his eyebrows come together. Yeah it’s cold out in the living room but not that cold. He closes his eyes, blaming dramatics, when the sniffle sounds again, but with something else this time that has Jason practically jumping out of his bed like he’s been electrocuted.

A whimper. That was a whimper.

He creeps towards the door, something heavy in his gut, and places his ear on the thin wood.

He can hear it all clearly now. The sniffles, the tiny choked off whimpers of someone trying to not make too much noise, the panting breaths.

Crying. Someone’s crying on the other side of his door and it’s two in the morning and Jason is all of a sudden thinking about the ignored texts, the silent acceptance of not even sub-par food, the cute distracting animal game, the caught in the headlights look when Jason stormed out earlier, the almost desperate way he asked to crash the night here, the angry outburst the he’s not a killer.

Jason doesn’t care. He doesn’t. This is Dick’s job. Not Jason. Jason is the family black sheep who people avoid unless they want something, and Jason avoids them right back. Dick is the big, caring, older brother while Jason is the distant outcast. Jason doesn’t care if Damian is in his living room crying. He really, truly, awfully, lyingly doesn’t care.

Shit.

He cares.

crying opens his door slowly and the sniffling and whimpering instantly cuts off. The door swings slowly open and Jason is left standing in his doorway watching as Damian wipes furiously at his eyes and glares at the opposite side of the room, curling up and biting his lower lip to perhaps stop it from trembling.

“What do you want, Todd,” Damian snarls, but his voice tremors and Jason has to fight down the panic threatening to escape his throat because he has no clue what to do. Here’s some kid who’s legally his youngest brother who’s swimming in his too big clothes with tear tracks down his cheeks and Jason cannot think of a single thing to do.

What would Dick do? Dick would smile and probably gather the kid up in a hug and say everything will be okay and other soppy comforting crap. Jason runs the scenario out in his head, imagines him trying to approach the kid with open arms to give him a hug. Strangely enough, while he can easily imagine Dick and Damian ending up cuddling or whatever, Jason can only see himself writhing on the floor with a knife between his ribs.

So, the Dick-protocol is out. Jason needs to do something else, and quick.

He grinds his jaw and forces himself to leave the safety of the room. Damian watches him warily as he slowly sits up and backs up to the corner of the sofa, furthest from where Jason is approaching from. Jason gives the kid a side eyed glance before he grabs at the remote and turns on the TV.

Jason isn’t the best with cuddles or comfort, but the least he can do is sit it out and let Damian decide what the next step is, even if Jason has to sit here shirtless in the chilly living room with the TV turned low on some Spanish soap channel for the rest of the night.

Somehow, Damian doesn’t fight that. He just wipes his eyes again, getting rid of most evidence of tear tracks, and then settles into his corner, stubbornly watching the TV.

Forty minutes into the soap marathon, right when someone is revealed to not be the father—gasp—something finally happens.

Damian speaks.

“Do you regret it?” Says a small voice in a whisper. Jason turns his head and he almost has to squint his eyes to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. Damian is valiantly avoiding his gaze, staring straight at the TV. His hands are nervously pulling at the strings of his borrowed sweatpants though, which is a sight Jason never thought he’d see.

“Regret what?” He questions.

Damian worries his lip for a second and something shiny swims in his eyes. Jason remains silent until Damian finally speaks. “Killing those people.”

Finally, Damian looks at Jason and he looks so vulnerable and scared and Jason is pretty sure this is all just some sort of fever dream because what the hell. His brain short circuits and restarts as he tries to gather his thoughts, but suddenly all his thoughts are nothing more than green anger as he hacks through the necks of drug dealers and stuffs heads in duffel bags. Thoughts lined with lividity as he shoots at rapists and murderers and gets blood splattered on his red mask. Thoughts of holding the Joker against his chest, pressing the point of his gun against the psychopaths temple and screaming a choice at Bruce.

The Joker, or him.

He absentmindedly reaches for the scar on his neck; it’s a unique one for the fact it’s not one that he gained in death nor in his autopsy. It’s thin and precise and did just enough damage for Jason to accidentally let go of the Joker and grab at the sharp batarang sticking out from his neck, blood already leaking through his fingers. Proof that Bruce would rather slice his neck than let a mindless murderer continue to breathe. A permanent reminder that Jason isn’t as important as some no-kill-rule. A warning he should never attempt something like that ever again.

He’s been doing better. He hasn’t killed anyone since... since forever. His bullets are not ones made to kill. His aims are not lethal. When he shoots he shoots because he has to, and he’s been forcing himself to use his fists first.

Does he regret it? Does he regret getting so angry and hurt and confused that he killed dozens of people just to get Black Mask angry so he could get to Joker and therefore Batman? Does he regret the blood on his hands? The hours clutching his chest in the shower after the first life he took, scrubbing at his skin so it’s red and raw, repeating over and over and over to himself that this will all be worth it. The days avoiding the freezer where he stored the severed heads until he had all of them because he was afraid he’d puke? The months convincing himself that beating his replacement senseless would be worth it?

Does he regret it?

He clutches the material of his pants with one hand and rubs the length of his scar with his other, taking a deep breath.

“No.”

Damian’s eyes widen slightly in shock, and Jason realizes he was expecting a different answer. He clears his throat, fights the urge to hug himself like he’s raw and vulnerable. An animal on display.

“I don’t regret killing those people. But if I was sent back in time and given the option to redo everything... I wouldn’t have done it.”

“I don’t understand,” Damian says and Jason releases a bitter chuckle.

“I’m a different person now, and back then killing those people I felt was the only thing I could do. I used to... sit and wonder about what I could have done differently, what I could have changed, but I decided it isn’t worth it. I killed those people in cold blood, and if I regret it now then I won't be able to move on. So no, I don’t regret it.”

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence and Jason sighs. “Look, I enjoy talking about my past as much as the next guy, but why do you bring it up?“

Damian bites his lip again, and Jason almost worries that sooner or later he’s going to draw blood with his sharp canines, but Damian brings his legs to his chest and stars absentmindedly at the TV as some chick slaps another chick for whatever reason.

“I regret them,” Damian whispers, and Jason decides now would be a wise time to remain silent. “I killed people because my mother and grandfather said it was my birthright too. I was superior and they were worthless. I never... thought anything of it. Until now.” He takes a shaky breath and continues, rubbing his eye with his shoulder. “I promised Grayson I would never kill again, and I’ve always intended to keep that promise for myself if not for him. B-but father doesn’t trust me all the time and it’s hard t-to think that I’m ever going to live up to that promise when he’s constantly telling me how I could have slipped up or how I could have killed... killed somebody a-and it’s been three years since- and why doesn’t he trust me? Why does he always think I’m... I’m gonna...”

He breaks off into a painful sounding sob and Jason watches wide eyed, completely at a loss of what to do. He sits there and watches as Damian explains through sobs that someone died yesterday, a criminal he was chasing. The man accidentally slipped off the docks into the freezing, churning, unforgiving water of Gotham Bay and drowned before Robin could safely get down to him. Batman arrived just as Robin pulled his dead body back onto the docks. Batman tried to resuscitate him, but with no luck.

Robin was benched, blamed for his death, and Nightwing didn’t take his side.

Bruce said he could have reacted faster. Dick chose to try and stay in the middle but ended up just getting Bruce mad at both of them and Damian feeling betrayed.

It’s no wonder Damian ran out and was ignoring every text message sent his way. He feels like his whole world has turned against him. Jason is almost tempted to let the kid stay more than the night.

Somehow, Jason’s managed to scoot closer to the crying kid, and somehow, Damian’s ended up under his arms. Leaning against his chest, crying and letting the warm tears run down his cheeks and against Jason’s skin. It feels personal. It feels open. It feels secret and sacred.

Jason clutches the kid closer, and he doesn’t say a thing because he doesn’t know what to say quite yet.

He just holds him, then when Damian tires himself out and his eyes become puffy and half-lidded, Jason gathers him up and carries him to the bedroom, his arms too full to turn off the TV. Damian instantly curls up into his side as he lays them both down onto the bed, dragging the sheets.

People die on patrol, yet Bruce seems to be the hardest on them when it’s the criminals who die. Victims, choking on their own blood and crying, eyes going milky, but Bruce only sees the criminal that Jason aloud to get shot by their own partner, he only sees the thug Jason aloud to get stabbed through the gut when Joker got sick of them. It’s a whole, vile system Bruce has. When victims die, it’s no one’s fault, but when the bad guys die, they should have been strong enough and brave enough and fast enough to stop it.

Jason doesn’t think Bruce will ever trust Jason not to kill. He doesn’t think Bruce will ever trust Damian not to kill.

So the least Jason can do right now while Bruce seethes and Dick tries to mediate is hold Damian a little tighter as a promise that Jason is on his side instead of the people who are supposed to be.

He hopes it’s enough. Because it’s truly the least he can do.

[aconitemare]

[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter Four

AO3

Previous Chapter

Dick kicks his foot in the air repeatedly, inspecting the pink flowers on his white Oxfords. He’s pretending to ignore the people around him — possibly, he is actually ignoring them, as the outlines of their bodies blur around his fancy footwear. He leans farther back on Jason’s desk, conjuring the picture of ease. To his left rests Jason’s Red Hood helmet in a gargoyle-fashion. Everyone here knows Jason Todd is the Red Hood, but Dick is just Richie Grayson, D-list celebrity. The sleeves of his pretentiously silk bomber jacket, embroidered with colorful roosters, slip slightly down his shoulder. 

“Is this really the best time to be hiring people? Specifically this person?” This question comes from James — or “Wingman,” as Jason earlier informed him of. James is up-and-coming, bat-themed, Gotham-based vigilante who believes the Red Hood is absolutely critical to public safety. Dick has not yet shared this detail with Batman, having only received it an hour before this current meeting, but he’s hoping they’ll share a good laugh over that.

“No time like the present,” Jason says without much concern. He stands beside the desk, a few feet from Dick. 

Dick catches James crossing his arms from the corner of his eyes. The defensive body language convinces him to focus more on the arrangement of people. Suzie Su still sits on the recliner, seemingly indifferent. Her sisters, one of which Dick recognizes as the waitress who intercepted him and Miguel earlier, flock around Su either on the couch or near her armrest; all except for Night, Dick’s blackjack dealer yesterday, who now occupies a distant corner of the room by herself. Miguel sits in the recliner opposite Suzie Su, playing with his tie. James stands the closest to Dick and Jason and busies himself with looking like he eats nails for breakfast. 

“The son of Bruce Wayne is hardly a sound addition to the Outlaws,” James points out. 

Suzie Su’s head swivels towards Jason. “Oh, no,” she says, suddenly invested, “Whatever ‘the outlaws’ is, count me out of it. I’m going legit, you promised!”

Jason takes a page from Dick’s book and seats himself on the corner of his desk. He grips the edge, knees spread, so that he looks like he’s riding a horse. For an unstably diverse crowd, he’s rather at ease at the head of it, Dick notes. Jason holds up a silencing finger and begins his address, “Firstly, the Outlaws are too legit for any mere mortal to handle, that includes you, Su, so stuff it. Secondly, James, you can also stuff it because no one’s inviting Richie Rich onto the team except you, it would seem.”

So, does that mean I don’t get to see the Super Secret Clubhouse and make friendship bracelets? Dick almost says. Instead, he receives a text alert and checks his phone to see Bruce left him a message. 

What is your plan of action? it reads.

Dick quickly shoots back a non-committal text, wary of Jason sensing Batman’s concern through the phone. Luckily, Jason doesn’t pay Dick’s texting any mind, preoccupied with his stand-off against Wingman. 

James persists, undeterred by Jason’s skilled dismissal. “Batman isn’t exactly in your corner, Todd. He is, however, in Wayne’s pocket. As is Richie Grayson.”

Dick frowns; his current persona is apparently no longer a good fit. He will need to adjust accordingly. Dick sits up straighter on the desk and tucks his legs. “I have my own funds, as a matter of fact,” he speaks up. Jason’s eyes slice into him — oh, right, Dick’s not supposed to talk while meeting the in-laws. Oh, well. He continues, “I work for the Bludhaven Police Department.” 

Dick touches his jacket collar and inspects the interior fabrice. “I try to dress nice when there might be cameras so I don’t make Bruce look bad, but most of it’s bought off-price at Marshalls.” This last part is a lie as he rarely buys his own photo op clothes. Bruce has a personal stylist who keeps everyone’s wardrobe at the Manor stocked. Dick hit up his old bedroom on the way to the hotel. 

“You’re a cop,” James repeats. 

Dick holds back a wince. So much for Agent 37’s kick-ass undercover portfolio. “Every cop’s a little dirty in the ‘Haven,” he says, hopefully smoothly.

Unfortunately, James does not find this comforting. “So not only are you a cop who knows about the Iceberg’s business, but you’re not even a good cop?”

Dick points at Jason. “He murders people,” he deflects. 

Jason sighs obnoxiously loud. “Richie has information and contacts,” Jason increases his volume when James looks like he wants to say something else, “neither of which are anyone’s business at the moment but mine. Believe it or not, but I’m pretty attached to my life, in both a literal and figurative sense, and so if I say the guy from that one lady-service Pantene commercial is going to keep my organs safely inside my body, rest assured, I have done my research.”

This standing ovation inspires Dick to wonder whether Jason saw that commercial on cable or some other venue. He tries and fails to imagine Jason watching Friends reruns. Maybe he caught it off some gun review video on Youtube. This is the kind of media Dick assumes Jason consumes. 

“Great to know,” says Suzie Su flatly. “So, Richie, who’s trying to whack our boss?”

“No one yet. There have been no attempts on his life thus far,” Dick responds. Then, “Also, you can just call me Dick.”

“Shouldn’t be too tough,” Suzie Su remarks.

“The situation will escalate, though,” James states,  “There is no doubt that Red Hood is the final target.”

“Correct. Which is why it’s important that we trust each other,” Dick says. He levels a gaze at everyone in the room except for James, which should indicate to him that he’s the object of criticism without presenting Dick as outwardly hostile. “If we are too busy suspecting each other without any evidence, we allow for outside threats to slip past our radar.” Dick can only hope they will take this to heart; it will be harder for him to investigate Jason’s people if they’re also investigating him.  

“Truth,” Miguel agrees as he stands to his feet and walks towards Dick. “Although it kind of worked out for us this time, right? You following me, us following you?” As he approaches, he extends a hand and Dick dismounts from the desk. “Welcome to the team, Dick,” Miguel says, clapping Dick on the shoulder as they shake. His smile is warm and sincere. Dick feels an equally genuine grin spread across his face.��

“Alright, alright,” Jason says, leaning from his spot on the desk to bat an arm at them. “What did I just say about teams, dude,” he gripes. Miguel shrugs rather blithely before he returns to his chair. Dick appreciates what he hopes will be the one easy-going personality in this tense bunch. 

Jason claps his hands together and stands. “Okay, here’s the deal: I want someone always watching my vehicle for the next, fuck, two weeks, I guess? One week?” He looks to Dick for confirmation. Dick mouths, ‘longer.’ “One week to start, cool,” Jason locks in his answer. “I don’t mean from the cameras, as I really am hoping to catch this person ASAP and get back to my regularly scheduled gangbanging.”

Dick watches the crowd: Miguel gives a whoop, Suzie Su rolls her eyes, one of the sisters not standing in the corner laughs. 

“So, that means I need you,” Jason flourishes his arm in the air and brings it dramatically down like a hammer, finger pointing sharply at Miguel, “to physically be in the parking lot.”

Miguel looks around in bafflement. “I’m the owner. That would look weird,” he says, gesturing towards himself.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure everyone is lining up for your autograph, too, now come off it. No one here is instantly recognizable except for me, and that’s mostly to do with the helmet,” Jason pats the helmet beside him emphatically, “giving me serious red Darth Vader vibes.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. Jason hears him anyway, but that turns out to be not so bad. Jason’s eyes flicker towards him but they’re absent of reproach, which is how Dick realizes he had expected to be growled at for his humor. But Jason made the joke, didn’t he? He goes so far as to smile, not threateningly, but pleasantly. Dick wants to call it soft even. 

Jason’s eyes are back on the ragtag team within the second. He explains properly his reasoning to Miguel. “The subject’s abilities and target range are unknown to us. You’re our safest bet for handling whatever he might be capable of. And you can wear whatever you want.” Dick assumes that last bit is weighted with the implication of a supersuit, although Miguel’s secret identity may very well be known considering the lack of visible confusion on anyone’s face. Of course, that could just be indifference; no one in this room seems particularly interested in each other. 

“If you see someone snooping, wait it out. If you see someone put something on my bike, apprehend them and bring them to me where I can then proceed to shoot their brains out,” Jason instructs. Dick tries to say something, but Jason says over his attempt, “If they’re guilty.”

“Not really the problem,” Dick mutters. 

“The Su Brigade can, I don’t know, keep doing what you’re doing, I guess? Keep an eye on suspicious figures.”

Dick chimes in, “This time, however, immediately report to Jason or myself. Don’t rush in unless the threat is urgent. Don’t,” he motions to James, “text James, or whatever it is you guys did. That was sloppy and uncoordinated.”

James shifts his weight more evenly. Dick instantly recognizes the implicit challenge and straightens his back. “Text you, huh? What, you the boss now?”

Dick files through his possible responses, weighs the best tone to take, the stance to adopt. Should he pick up the gauntlet and try to assert dominance, or go for diplomacy? He doubts this will come to blows, but the direction he takes this could have later consequences, could affect Jason’s safety even in the long-run. 

Dick almost misses the change in Jason’s posture, but it’s instantaneous. “He’s close enough,” Jason has already spoken, no longer leaning against the desk but standing with his hands deceptively plunged into his jeans pockets and his searing green eyes locked on James. “More the boss than you are, at any rate, so yeah, I’d text him.” He sounds almost casual, accent set in a lazy Gotham drawl, yet there’s an angered click to how he sets his teeth. He’s intimidating, alright, the sharp cut of his cheeks complementing his strong jaw. He’s quite Hollwood-esque actually, Dick thinks — at least before he realizes Jason is looking right back at him. Jason raises his eyebrows and spins his fingers in a prompting manner. “Well? Anything else you’d like to derail the meeting with, Dick?”

And just like that, Jason manages to personally undermine the power he just gave him. Dick is bordering on impressed, restrained only by his sudden irritation. Dick simply smiles and says, “You’re the boss.”

“Fantastic. James! How do you feel about interrogating people you can’t beat up?” Jason proposes to the next member of the non-team. 

Dick thinks James could question people without beating them up just fine, especially after the practice he got in while interrogating Dick. James doesn’t comment on whether he’s up to the task, however, but replies, “Who am I interrogating?”

Jason grins and quickly bows his body. “A witness. Exciting, right? Unfortunately, no, not exciting. This will suck for you. Daniel Garcia, the second victim, should be at Gotham General Hospital — fingers crossed he has insurance, because otherwise you’ll have to find out where he lives and talk to him there.”

Dick could be projecting, but he thinks James puffs up his chest at this. “I can find anyone anywhere,” vows James.

“I’ve no doubt, buddy. I just would prefer he not have to relive everything the second he gets home because a stranger wants to hear the gory details,” Jason explains. His tone is slightly scolding. There might be some decency in him yet. Dick immediately feels guilty for being surprised. Jason is a good guy. A good guy. He’s said as much to Bruce. Did he forget to tell himself the same thing?

“Bring some flowers to soften things,” Dick suggests.

“Flowers don’t soften a crowbar, Dick,” Jason disagrees. Still, he adds for James, “But yeah, bring flowers. The family won’t like you for it, but they’ll hate you even more if you don’t.”

“Do we have to do anything?” Suzie Su asks, a little unhappily, it would seem. Dick doesn’t trust her. Then again, would she be so openly disloyal if she was double-crossing? The only person in this room Dick trusts is Miguel — and even then, if there’s one thing Batman has been trying to drill into him for half his life, it’s that trust is a liability. Anyone here could logically be a mole. Anyone here could be loyal, too. 

“No, Suzie Su, I expect absolutely nothing from you and that’s why I dragged you to a staff meeting, so you could sit on your ass and pick at your nails,” Jason intones. Suzie Su drops her manicured nails to her lap and glares at him. Jason sticks his tongue out in response. “You and your lovely sisters of questionable bloodline are my ears to the ground.”

“So, same as before?”

Jason cocks his head, shakes it up and down as if weighing the question, and says, “K-i-i-i-i-nd of? It’s like what you were doing before, but not complete garbage. Need I remind you that you let this idiot into my office.” Jason jabs his thumb in Dick’s direction.

Miguel raises his finger. He’s properly relaxed in his cushiony recliner, legs crossed and arms spilling over the back. “Ah, but you let the idiot stay,” he reminds Jason. 

Dick twists his lips. “Thanks, Miguel. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Jason decides. “Alright, everyone out of my office and onto the things I demand of you. Dick, you’re coming with me.”

The crowd is already dispersing. Dick hops off the desk and pats the wrinkles from his pants. “Why’s that? I thought you didn’t want me breathing down your neck.”

Jason’s back is to Dick as he fastens his Red Hood helmet over his head, which tips Dick off that some of his people outside the office might still not know who’s under the mask. Jason’s response is rougher than before. “You saw the tapes, didn’t you?” The energy from only a minute ago has melted from his voice. The helmet lights up then and Jason’s next words are modulated, shrouded in static. “That makes you the expert.”

Dick does not miss the irony of this statement. 

  ___________

  Dick has Jason drive him to Bludhaven. Jason has many cars and not a single one is worth less than $80,000. “How do you blend in?” Dick asked on the way to his shitty apartment across the pond, Jason looking absolutely put-upon by the half-hour drive.  His Red Hood helmet has been stowed away in a personally customized, hidden compartment. “I don’t,” Jason simply replied. Dead guys, according to Jason, don’t need to feign poverty. Especially if those dead guys are better known for their underground empires and resort casinos. However, two rich men in a luxury vehicle don’t have much business commiserating with the family of boys like Terry Weind. So, the two stop by Bludhaven to pick up Dick’s Saturn and allow him to change into less flamboyant clothes. 

Dick chooses a threadbare BPD t-shirt and jeans. Jason stays in his signature ensemble of leather jacket and combat boots. He raises his brows at Dick’s outfit, but Dick insists it’s a good choice. Even if they don’t like the police, he’s still out of uniform and unarmed, and they’ll know this isn’t his territory. He’ll seem like a commuter, which might even win him some subconscious sympathy; many people in downtown Gotham have to commute to Bludhaven, albeit usually for a fishery job and not the police department. 

Jason waits in the car for Dick to come out. Dick invites him in, but secretly he’s relieved. The place is a mess. If how he keeps his office is a hint, Jason’s habits are immaculate. They would put Dick to shame. Dick taps Jason’s window to signal they’re switching to the Saturn. Jason takes an excessively long time to part with his car, all but cooing at it, but does eventually make it over. He settles into the passenger seat, looking Dick up and down.

“What?” Dick asks, perhaps defensively. He should’ve said something like, “Like what you see?” but it’s too late for that. 

Jason shrugs casually, but his eyes flicker to Dick’s hair. “Nothing. You just look normal now.” 

Dick jams his keys into the ignition, because he has to be rough for the car to start, and rolls his eyes. “You mean my hair’s not gay?”

“Eh. Less gay.” And then Jason is reaching out and ruffling his hair, fingers curling through the still-damp waves. Dick stuck his hair under the bathroom sink’s faucet before putting his shirt on. He got water everywhere, but he needed to get the product out. He weirdly hopes Jason doesn’t feel any lingering stickiness, that his hair is soft to touch. 

Jason’s face abruptly screws up in confusion as if he isn’t sure how he got here. Slowly, he retracts his hand and sits straight in his seat. Dick didn’t notice how open Jason’s body language was just a moment ago, but he notices how it closes. His knees no longer point towards Dick but to the windshield; his arms, once extended towards him, now fold across his chest. Dick stares at him for a moment, trying to piece together the puzzle he suspects they almost had. 

Jason’s presence always has that mystifying effect on him, however, like he’s a monument to all the almosts they’ve been. When Jason was Robin, they were almost friends. When he was the Red Hood, they were almost enemies. Then they might have been brothers, could have been, maybe. There had been that night on the rooftop when Dick had managed to slip through Spyral’s many fingers — when Barbara had run away and Damian had embraced him and Tim demanded why, why — Jason had drawn blood as his voice broke because you don’t do that to your. Almost.

They are always on the verge of some new meaning. 

“Well?” asks Jason. “Are you waiting for me to set up the GPS? You know the address, let’s go.”

Dick quickly recovers and begins edging out from his spot between two other parked cars on the street. “What are we, drag racing? Jeesh.” They avoid traffic for the drive over but do swing into a corner store once they’re in Gotham again. Jason buys the most expensive bouquet available while Dick fiddles with a rack of playing cards. Pokémon? Magic? Would Terry care about either of those games? He sees Jason head to the counter and grabs a random card pack to check out. His phone buzzes in his pocket just as he finishes counting off the dollar bills. He hands the cashier $16 and unlocks his phone. It’s from Bruce.

Any progress?

Dick begins typing out an answer when he remembers the boundaries he agreed on with Jason. He said he wouldn’t share any details with Bruce unless Jason okay’d it. He could let Jason know Bruce is asking, but even mentioning Bruce tends to sour him. Dick would rather get through this meeting with Terry Weind first. He makes a mental note to inform Jason later and give Bruce a non-answer if he says no. 

Ten minutes later and they’re standing on narrow porch steps. The wooden planks are dark and splintery and covered in cigarette butts where an ash tray has been knocked down. Dick squats down and picks it up; ceramic, woodsy-green and leaf-shaped. He sets it atop the paint-chipped banister while Jason knocks on the door. The walls are thin enough that Dick can trace the sound of someone walking down the stairs. It’s summery outside today, the earth baked through by the sun, but he’s thinking of winters down here. Even with a good furnace, these walls must let the chill in. 

A woman opens the door in her nightgown, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame. Her eyes are red and the skin beneath them sags. Her skin is almost ashen. She looks tired. She is tired, she’s exhausted, Dick can feel it when he looks at her. Her exhaustion is a heavy substance that spreads out and sinks into his flesh. 

“Are you Terry’s mom?” Jason asks. He has the flowers already at his chest. His voice is stiff with emotion. Dick recalls his comment about Daniel reliving trauma and wonders if that’s what Jason is doing right now. 

The woman nods and says that, yes, she is, but little changes in her expression. Dick had been expecting confusion, but she accepts the flowers without hesitation. Evidently, they are not remotely the first ones to share condolences. “My name’s Laura,” she says, touching the waxy petal of a calla lily. Her voice is soft and deep as if it’s been anchored to the bottom of the ocean.

“I’m Jason.”

“Dick,” Dick says after him. 

Laura opens her mouth silently for a few seconds before carefully telling them, “I appreciate you boys coming here and wishing us well. It’s been hard, but we’re grateful to the community’s response, it’s been wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me not inviting you in, it’s just that I work grave and don’t get much sleep, and Terry’s resting.”

“We understand. But actually, we’re not just here to offer our sympathy — though you do have it, of course,” Dick conveys. He rushes the words of each clause so his speech comes out in quick, nervous chunks. He’s dipping head, taking up as little room as possible while moving closer to her. Jason takes a step back to accommodate him. He wants to represent himself as sincere, perhaps too sincere to the point of being clumsy. People often think inept and trustworthy are the same thing; the logic goes, you can’t be hiding any tricks up your sleeve if you’re more likely to spill them on the floor. 

“If you turn us away, we get it, don’t worry,” assures Dick, “but this is our city and our kids are getting snatched.”

Laura begins shaking her head. “Oh, no, he’s not answering any questions — ”

“We won’t ask as many questions as the police,” Dick hurries to say. “We don’t need to. We,” here, Dick breaks off his speech and looks uncertainly at Jason, feigning hesitance. Then he takes a galvanizing breath, readying for his big leap, this information he’s sharing only with Laura. “I work part-time at the Park Row Memorial. I’m a guard, similar work to what I do with the Bludhaven Police. We have it monitored 24/7 so it doesn’t become a high-crime area again.” Dick sighs in frustration and bites his lips. “Laura,” he says firmly, staring into her eyes. Her pupils have dilated along his story. Good. “I saw Terry that night. The police haven’t even asked Park staff yet, they don’t care. But I saw it happen and I think I can do something about it.”

The best cover story is always based in reality. The best lies are true. 

Laura’s eyes drop the ground as she thinks. She’s also biting her lip. Dick ponders over whether she does that often and Dick got lucky, or if she’s mirroring him. Either way, he’s won her over. She shuffles to the side and waves them in, her movements less languid than before. 

She leads them to the stairwell and says, “If he doesn’t want to answer questions, he doesn’t have to. I’m not going to force him, you got it? Get what you can and hope it’s useful.” With this, she climbs the steps to the second floor, Jason and Dick following at an appropriate distance. They pause at the top step while she enters Terry’s room and explains in hushed tones his guests. She relates Dick’s reason for being here and then there’s a long pause before Dick detects a faint, “Sure.” 

Dick and Jason share a look that confirms: they’re in. Laura places a light hand on Jason’s bicep and guides them to the door. “I’ll stand right here,” she says firmly and waves them forward. Dick looks around for a chair, sees none, and settles on the windowsill facing Terry’s bed. He’s faired better than the next two kids, all injuries considered. He was out of the hospital in a month. He lies in his twin-sized mattress beneath a crisp sheet, a blue comforter shoved to the foot of his bed. A square bandage covers his right cheek, there’s stitching over his right eyebrow, and there’s more stitches on the right side of his skull. His right arm and knee have been set in casts. Dick remembers him curling onto his side at one point in the video. 

In the wake of the other victims’ hospital records (courtesy of Oracle), Terry’s assault had been carried out with perfunctory brutality. Dick recollects the scene but recalls no hesitation in the attacker’s swings, yet their violence has clearly increased. Perhaps they are doing someone else’s dirty work and the job has just now awakened a taste for pain in them. Or maybe it’s one guy after all and they’re adjusting to the role. 

“So, you know the fucker who did this?” Terry speaks up first. His voice is a little rough and definitely fatigued. Despite his current infirmity, Dick can tell he’s a sturdy kid. He’s got the same build Jason had at that age, youthfully broad with natural muscle in the absence of training. A body with room to grow in. 

Dick shrugs. “Not personally. But we hold out hope. What did his face look like? Any defining features?” he attempts, even knowing that Terry’s report claimed to make out nothing from the night of the attack.

Terry was looking at Jason beforehand, which Dick can’t blame him for. Jason takes up most of the room as he stands by Terry’s feet, stock straight with his massive arms folded. Dick has a habit of downsizing Jason in his head. In general, Dick’s guilty of subconsciously diminishing certain people’s threat levels, letting his familiarity with them obscure the danger they still pose. He does his best to put himself in Terry’s shoes and see what he might see; he accomplishes this by summoning the first night he encountered the Red Hood before he was also Jason Todd, fallen boy wonder. Even without the vigilante get-up, the man’s intimidating. 

Now that Dick has asked a question, however, Terry’s eyes appraise him. Dick once again folds in on himself, tucking his arms closer to his sides and leaning back so he’s as out of Terry’s space as he can be. Then Terry’s eyes stray to the floor and he mumbles, “Looked like nothing. It was dark.” But he doesn’t say it like it was nothing. 

“You saw something,” Dick contests. He’s not going to wheedle or coax, he decides, because that would just leave Terry room to equivocate. “You don’t know what you saw, but you saw something, and whatever that is will help us more than pretending there weren’t streetlamps.”

Terry grimaces. The twitch of his battered face reminds Dick of his age and his heart aches. There should be a grace period for children, an exception made for those still new to this earth. He hates that pain is one of the first things they learn. “He was white, I guess,” Terry supplies. His good fingers have found a loose thread on the hem of his pushed-down sheets. He picks at it. “He never said a word the whole time. It was quiet. He — I saw his hands. I thought, I thought the police would find his thumbprints or whatever, on me, but that’s not how it works, they said. They were all fucked up.”

“The hands or the police?” Jason interjects.

Terry doesn’t look up from his loose thread, but one half of his mouth pulls up into a faint, flickering smile. It manages to be bright even so. “The hands. There were old scars all over the knuckles. Dry, too, like he never heard of lotion.”

Dick supposes the attacker could work in manual labor, but it’s unlikely if there were truly that many scars and all old. “Just the knuckles?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Dick guesses he’s experienced with combat. The ugly, close-up kind. Still, just the knuckles, that sounds more like punishment than accident. And the dry skin? That could easily be eczema, although wouldn’t a seasoned killer think to cover up, prevent skin follicles from falling into a lab tech’s hands? It is summer, but Gotham runs more humid than dry, so perhaps they’re dealing with a foreigner. “And the face?” he prompts. 

Terry abruptly drops his hand from the nervous thread and sighs raggedly. “Nothing, man. I couldn’t see anything, okay, it was,” Terry falters, “confusing.”

“Confusing how?” Jason asks.

“I don’t know!” Terry’s voice pitches in frustration. “It was weird, all swirly and shit.”

Dick can hear the criticism leak into Jason’s tone when he curtly repeats, “Swirly.” 

Terry backpedals. “I said I don’t know,” he mutters. 

Swirly voices sound familiar to Dick. He used to have one for a time when he played James Bond for Spyral. “I think we might have a contact, Jay,” Dick muses. 

“Really?” Jason says with noticeable surprise. “Swirly’s our big break?”

“Emphasis on the might and ixnay on the big.” To Terry, he says, “Tell me, does tsuchigumo ring any bells?”

Terry’s face scrunches up. “Does what huh?”

Dick will take that as a no. “Oh, well. Still worth looking into,” he says. Dick stands and retrieves the card pack from his plastic bag. He holds it up for Terry to see before setting it down on the bed. Terry takes it immediately and brings it up to his face for inspection. “Your mom has the flowers. I wasn’t sure what to get you, but let me know if you need or want anything. Oh.” Dick swivels his head around the room. There’s not much to it aside from a bed, a dresser, and a box T.V. collecting dust. “Do you have something I can write my number on?”

Jason chooses that moment to step forward, sliding between Dick and where Terry lies. He leans across, a crisp, laminated paper balanced between his index and middle finger. “Here’s my card. Let me know if you have any more information or if either of you need help,” he explains. Terry sets Dick’s gift down and gingerly accepts the card. He flips it over: no logo, just a phone number.

“That’s it?” says Terry. “What contact? Who did this?”

“It’s too soon to tell. I wish I had more to give you two,” Dick says sympathetically to Terry and Laura, the latter of whom hasn’t left her post by the door. She rests her cheek on the frame and watches on.

Terry has more questions though and he’s edging on excited. “Are you P.I.’s? Why do you even care? I bet you fucking did this, or one of your boys — ”

“I understand your distrust,” Dick says over him. He glances nervously at Laura to gauge what she thinks of the accusation and if she’s about to step in. She’s a little straighter, body no longer depending on the wall, but her face is still impassive if alert. Dick hurries to smooth this over. “You don’t know us well enough to understand why we care. We have to prove ourselves, I get that. And we will. Until then, you’ve got nothing to lose, right? All we know is you didn’t see anything.”

Terry stares at him silently, suspicion darkening his eyes. There is risk in coming here, of course, depending on how well Terry’s attacker can trace Jason’s footsteps. But Dick has already weighed the risks and he’s betting that Terry’s part is done here insofar as the criminal is concerned. Luckily, Terry can’t identify what he’s got to lose or how much he has told them between the lines, so the charges drop like that. 

There’s a few beats of silence before Jason starts fidgeting. “Yea-a-a-h, we’re going to go now,” he announces, pointing over his shoulder towards the window. Dick could cringe, he’s so awkward. 

“Thanks to both of you,” Dick says and smiles as warmly as he can. He trails closely behind Jason who shuffles towards the door, his body too tall and too broad to fit comfortably in the modest room. Unthinking, the pads of Dick’s fingers feather over Jason’s back as if to guide him forward. As Jason moves, Dick lets his fingers linger in the air, covering up the touch with empty space. He curls his fingers in and tucks them behind his back. Laura follows them out. 

“Thank you again,” Dick says at the door. “We’ll be in touch if anything develops,” he promises. And he will be; if not as Dick then certainly as Nightwing. 

Laura thanks them half-heartedly. Dick suddenly feels self-conscious about the Pokémon cards. He may as well have given them a box with nothing inside it or a flashlight without a bulb. He heads back to the car, feeling Laura’s heavy gaze on his shoulders the whole way. 

Dick is buckling himself in when Jason opens the passenger door. “Mind sharing with the class what information was so decisive you had no further questions?” he asks as he climbs into the car. 

“No questions Terry could answer. This is the best we can do for a lead,” Dick explains. He needs to make a call, but that will have to wait until they’re on the road and not idling outside a victim’s house. Maybe he can take them to a restaurant, buy Jason a drink, a friendly gesture. Would Jason want to drink with him though?

“Yeah, about that,” Jason says as the car shoots off, “what lead?”

Scratch the drink; neither of them are lightweights, but on principle, they shouldn’t drink during an ongoing investigation. Still, he could buy them some sub sandwiches. He used to buy food for Tim all the time back in the day, as a reprieve from the typical Batman and Robin style of accidentally fasting until the case is resolved.

They reach a redlight almost immediately. Dick drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Spyral uses this tech called ‘Hypnos 2.0.’ They slide in kind of like contacts? They’re eye implants basically, but they transmit information between your brain and the brain of whoever’s looking at you. Their most common application was hiding your identity. If someone looked at you, they’d just see a scrambled mess instead of a face.”

Jason’s face scrunches up as he stares out the windshield. He scratches his head. “Scrambled like Picasso or.”

The light turns green. “More like a spiral,” Dick says lightly, nodding conversationally. 

“Thematic,” Jason comments. 

“Very. And the uniforms weren’t too shabby either.” He adds the joke more to test the waters than anything, gauge how delicate a topic Spyral is between them. Everyone in their family has a slightly different relationship with Dick’s double life. Bruce and Damian’s have been the easiest, marked by faint curiosity about his activities and begrudging acceptance of help from associated colleagues. The others have been noticeably more dodgy and uncomfortable regarding for Spyral. Dick’s stint as as Agent 37 has made everyone evasive, even for bats. 

If Jason would normally have an emotional reaction to Spyral, he’s too preoccupied for one now. Dick can practically see the gears in his mind turning as his eyes narrow and his chin falls to rest on his hand. Dick feels simultaneously relief and shame; of course, Spyral is just a lead. Spyral may have been Dick’s life at one point, but to Jason, it’s just an organization. At best, contacting Spyral could save his life. At worst, well, Dick’s not expecting Jason to unpack whatever baggage Dick left in Gotham. 

Dick resists the urge to grimace at his own thoughts. He’s overthinking. Can one overthink a ruthless spy agency that up until a year ago controlled his every movement? 

Jason’s voice, slow and thick with the sound of a city that’s always been his, reels Dick back to shore. “Dare I ask what the uniform entailed?”

“Cargo pants,” Dick answers simply. He’s watching the road ahead, but he can hear Jason make a pleasantly surprised noise. They pass a fire hydrant painted to look like a sunflower. Dick thinks it’d be nice for Bludhaven to do that and makes a note to push the idea at city hall after the case. 

“So, you think that this guy is from Spyral?” Jason asks. 

Dick shrugs. “That, or he’s connected enough to snag some tech. We should check first with the other two victims, see if their descriptions match up with Terry’s. If they do, it’s probably Spyral and not some low-grade black market street vendor. Nine of out ten optometrists do not recommend mind control contact lenses.”

Jason slams his hand down on the middle compartment. “Mind control?” he exclaims. When Dick glances at him, Jason’s expression is mostly shock with a sliver of what might be plain rage. But that would be an overreaction considering all the other crimes Spyral is guilty of. All the crimes they’re guilty of, especially Red Hood, although making that argument would be more trouble than it’s worth. 

Dick tries not to let Jason’s sheer judgment weigh on him. Dick has far more pressing guilt elsewhere to torture himself over. Still, it’s hard not to feel righteous rage on Jason’s behalf. He often forgets this part of Jason’s character, this abrupt sense of justice that powers him, but it’s no less prominent than it is in Bruce or himself. It might actually be stronger in Jason, a little left of center, but bleeding red nonetheless. Unfortunately, car safety dictates Dick not be on the receiving end of justice, so he replies as casually as possible, “Well, that’s what Hypnos is, essentially.”

“No way.” Jason points an accusatory finger that Dick sees from his peripheral. A street corner features a hot dog stand. Dick nearly pulls over, but the finger might kill whatever buzz a chili dog can offer. “Don’t ‘that’s-what-Hypnos-is-Jason- obviously ’ me. You just said it transmits info.”

Dick did not think his tone had come off condescending in the least. But if that’s what Jason got from it, then perhaps he missed casual and landed on dismissive. Bludhaven must be eroding his tact already. “Sorry. When I said it transmits information, I meant it as a blanket statement for everything it does. Hypnos can alter memories, which is more-or-less how the identity protection works, by modifying one’s memory of a face. It can send someone a location address or really anything you have stored in your own memory, which is helpful. It can also send orders.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s helpful, too,” Jason derides. He looks like he smelled something bad. Was Dick this perturbed by Hypnos when he first joined Spyral? He doesn’t think so. He had been so quickly embroiled in so many terrible things. What was a little crowd control in the face of cold, efficient, and constant murder? 

The guns. The feel of one is his hand like death itself, how they loomed in his bedroom and among his gear, beckoning him closer to an edge everyone wanted to push him off of. The guns had overshadowed all else for him. 

“Either way,” Dick carries on, “it’s unlikely this guy has his hands on Spyral tech without Spyral knowing something about him. They keep close enough watch over people that have nothing to do with them, let alone people that have access to their technology. He could be anywhere from an engineer to a passing contact, but he’s no ghost.”

“Terrific. Exactly what I need, a mind-controlling stalker from an quasi-omniscient spy organization hellbent running around on the streets of Gotham.”

Dick shrugs. “Gotham’s had it worse.”

“Have I?”

“I don’t know. Have you?” Dick retorts. 

Jason scowls. “Wouldn’t be my first assassination attempt, I suppose,” he concedes.

Dick perks up and offers him a grin. “And it won’t be your last!” he crows. 

Jason just stares at him, utterly perplexed. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is curled above his teeth in bewilderment. 

“Because you’ll be alive,” Dick hurriedly explains. “You know, like, woohoo!” He takes one hand off the wheel to pump the air triumphantly. 

“Woohoo,” Jason repeats hollowly. “Insanity.”

“What?” asks Dick. They will be coming up on the grinder shop soon. Should he suggest lunch to Jason or just drag him in? He’s leaning towards dragging. That seems more effective.

“That we’re all just living to hopefully get killed a day that’s not tomorrow,” Jason observes. 

It’s not more cynical than funny, but something in Jason’s tone — the utter resignation, perhaps — makes Dick laugh anyway. “Everyone on earth’s on borrowed time, really,” he says, not unhappily. Death hasn’t frightened him since he was young. Exposure therapy, he called it once during some Titans mission that feels a lot farther in the past than it is. “The reckless and foolhardy like us, we’re just more aware of it.”

Jason blows air out from his nose in a mix between a snort and a laugh. “And here I thought vigilante-types were less aware of their own mortality.”

“Are you kidding? You have to know you’re walking towards death to find that exact path each night. Snatched purses, drug rings, elitist assassins dressed as owls, fear gas and escaped convicts and murderous clowns — and we run right towards them with open arms,” Dick says, irony guiding his grin as Jason smirks back at him. 

“And open chest cavities, half the the time,” Jason tacks on. 

Dick nods fervently. “Yes, let’s not forget that,” he tries to say seriously, but laughter trips him on the last word. “I don’t know. I think it’s all very sane, actually, to see what’s going on and get involved, do what you can to make everything a little bit better. But too much sanity can look like insanity, for sure.”

Jason does snort this time. “Keep moralizing like that and you’ll sound straight out of a conversation between the Joker and B.”

Dick wrinkles his nose. “Ew. I hope not.”

“‘We’re the same, you and I,’” Jason croons in a wispy, sing-song voice. “‘Sane and in-sane.’”

Dick can make out the small, white-background-red-letters sign of Hester’s Grinders a few yards down the road. There’s just enough room before the fire hydrant — this one plain, chipped red — to safely park. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll keep my philosophies to myself. And so long as we’re changing the subject — hungry?”

Previous Chapter

[dotthings]

There’s a ton of John Winchester mirroring for the comic book store owner mentoring his successors and as someone else pointed out, “Jaeger” means hunter and they used footage from earlier eps for the fake trailer including John being their Jaeger stand-in. So a whole lot here about father figures, and mentors, and particularly John as someone who trained children to be warriors and is a complicated father role and there were costs to his obsession. Comic book store owner as a more benign mentor, until he became a ghost, but a parallel to John nonetheless. Are we not going to talk about the John Winchester and father-son pain parallel nod?

So let’s talk about that massive Jason Todd as Red Hood mannequin easter egg which is probably just meant as a fun easter egg because of Jensen’s planned Halloween cosplay. But the camera swept over a whole bunch of DC comics titles including Batman. While the Jason Todd mannequin is standing there in the comics shop. Just...standing there. Silent and heavy-laden with pointed significance.

Slight spoilers behind the cut for this ep and the dc animated movie Under the Red Hood where Jensen voiced Jason Todd and some batfamily and spn parallels.

Before I throw Bruce Wayne under the bus, the circumstances are a bit different. All of Bruce’s kids that he trained to be Robins came to him. Bruce isn’t exactly a picture of emotional stability and he shouldn’t have agreed to let minors become warriors alongside of him, but he also didn’t emotionally abuse them or tell them this was their only job and purpose in life and tell them they were worthless if they didn’t watch over their little brother properly. He was strict as a teacher, not denigrating or dismissive. And if Dick Grayson or any Robin had gone to Bruce and said “I just want to be a regular kid” I think Bruce would feel immense relief (and a little sad but mostly relief). Alfred would throw a party. Bruce would protect that regular life for the kids he mentored. All the Robins had to convince Bruce they could handle it, that they were ready, convince him to let them into his scary world, and Bruce, in all the iterations of the story, is strict about the rules and you aren’t ready until he says so and they all asked to be there. Begged, even. Even when Bruce was saying no you’re not ready.

There were however high costs. There’s a bunch of dead (and then un-deaded) Robins, there’s damaged Robins, there’s the Robin who didn’t die but left and became his own hero and became in some ways a better version of his adoptive father. There are also storylines where Bruce tells them nope that’s it this is too dangerous I don’t want to lose you so I am benching you. Which angers the Robins. Bruce knows the costs.

John is a different matter. Dean and Sam weren’t given an initial choice. They were raised into it from infancy. John punished outside interests, his kids looking beyond the hunting life. Bruce’s kids were always offered an education, college, options. It helps that Bruce was a billionaire with bottomless resources of course but John and Bruce both had a choice how they mentored their kids, how they treated them personally and yeah I’d say Bruce comes out looking like the better dad, with both of them in a zone of no dude don’t let kids be warriors. But allowing them and drilling it into their heads that can be their only worth and role in life are two different things. Nonetheless both Bruce and John are complicated painful father figures.

BTW Dick Grayson, the first Robin’s parents, were named John and Mary. And Dick was trained into the slightly perilous family business of being a trapeze artist, but with lots of safety nets and love and his extended circus family around him. Sam and Dean had no safety nets, there were no safety nets for John, and they had little sense of community. Also John and Mary Grayson died due to sabotage while performing without a safety net.

Should I bring up the fact Sam, Dean, and Cas are training Jack who is effectively still a child to be a hunter—but with lots of safety nets, with Cas telling him his own worth, instead of “this is your only worth.” With choices because Jack is the one begging to go out in the field while Dean is playing protective batdad saying no. If Jack said he wanted something else, if Jack decides he wants to go to college someday, or just be a guy who works in a comics shop and has friends, TFW is going to support him.

What’s interesting about Jason Todd showing up in this ep of spn is that Jason is the most tragic Robin and the one Bruce always felt the most sense of failure on. Jason is the Robin who died (there’s another one who did too but DC also undid that, and Jason was the first to die). Under the Red Hood effectively is the story of someone who thought his father didn’t love him enough. So it’s the high cost of training children to be warriors writ large and the Red Hood animated movie brings in a lot about insecurities from both Bruce and Jason’s end—I failed you, you didn’t love me enough. Jason’s also got sibling jealousy issues. Jason had behavioral problems, he was a bit of an asshole, he was basically good, but Jason was the 2nd Robin and had to follow Dick Grayson who is a really talented, good-hearted, smart, handsome, universally loved, gold standard of Robins, and became Nightwing who can hold his own as Batman’s equal.

Jason was murdered by the Joker and that was the end of him for decades. His memory haunted the batfamily. His memory taunted Dick with the potential for his own failure and he haunted Bruce. There’s a story where Bruce blows up at Dick saying Jason was just like Dick—brash and over-confident and so Dick could have been killed just as easy. Anyway Jason’s story was over until DC brought him back from the dead and while not gone all over to the dark side Jason was pretty messed up emotionally, tried to steal Nightwing’s identity in one SL, and uses violence to do his work on levels Batman was adamantly against. (note I have no idea if these backstories on the batfamily are still considered canon or not what with all the reboots but they are part of an emotional continuity in how I know the characters—it’s comics and animated series and there are emotional consistencies across all the canon versions and maintained through the reboots. Still, discussinf what’s “dc canon” is a mess).

Oh and Stuart was stealing from his mentor and in one of the Jason Todd origin stories, Batman found Jason when Jason stole from him (the batmobile hubcaps. Jason had moxy).

I was also a batfamily fan when I got into SPN and early seasons SPN sent all my batfamily parallel radars beeping. So now, that Red Hood mannequin, being in this ep? With those other parallels about John running strong already in place? Of all things, they put this ouchie of a batfamily nod in there? That is some easter egg. That thing was just begging to be meta’d, it was asking for it.